[transcriber's note: footnotes moved to end of book.] [illustration] alfred russel wallace letters and reminiscences by james marchant _with two photogravures and eight half-tone plates_ in two volumes volume i cassell and company, ltd london, new york, toronto and melbourne to the memory of annie wallace preface these two volumes consist of a selection from several thousands of letters entrusted to me by the wallace family and dating from the dawn of darwinism to the second decade of the twentieth century, supplemented by such biographical particulars and comments as are required for the elucidation of the correspondence and for giving movement and continuity to the whole. the wealth and variety of wallace's own correspondence, excluding the large collection of letters which he received from many eminent men and women, and the necessity for somewhat lengthy introductions and many annotations, have expanded the work to two (there was, indeed, enough good material to make four) volumes. the family has given me unstinted confidence in using or rejecting letters and reminiscences, and although i have consulted scientific and literary friends, i alone must be blamed for sins of omission or commission. nothing has been suppressed in the unpublished letters, or in any of the letters which appear in these volumes, because there was anything to hide. everything wallace wrote, all his private letters, could be published to the world. his life was an open book--"no weakness, no contempt, dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair." the profoundly interesting and now historic correspondence between darwin and wallace, part of which has already appeared in the "life and letters of charles darwin" and "more letters," and part in wallace's autobiography, entitled "my life," is here published, with new additions, for the first time as a whole, so that the reader now has before him the necessary material to form a true estimate of the origin and growth of the theory of natural selection, and of the personal relationships of its noble co-discoverers. my warmest thanks are offered to sir francis darwin for permission to use his father's letters, for his annotations, and for rendering help in checking the typescript of the darwin letters; to mr. john murray, c.v.o., for permission to use letters and notes from the "life and letters of charles darwin" and from "more letters"; to messrs. chapman and hall for their great generosity in allowing the free use of letters and material in wallace's "my life"; to prof. e.b. poulton, prof. sir w.f. barrett, sir wm. thiselton-dyer, dr. henry forbes, and others for letters and reminiscences; and to prof. poulton for reading the proofs and for valuable suggestions. an intimate chapter on wallace's home life has been contributed by his son and daughter, mr. w.g. wallace and miss violet wallace. j.m. _march, ._ contents volume i introduction part i i. wallace and darwin--early years ii. early letters ( - ) part ii i. the discovery of natural selection ii. the complete extant correspondence between wallace and darwin ( - ) volume ii part iii i. wallace's works on biology and geographical distribution ii. correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc. ( - ) iii. correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc. ( - ) part iv home life part v social and political views part vi some further problems i. astronomy ii. spiritualism part vii characteristics appendix: lists of wallace's writings index list of plates in volume i a.r. wallace ( ) a.r. wallace (singapore, ) a.r. wallace's mother a.r. wallace soon after his return from the east alfred russel wallace letters and reminiscences introduction in westminster abbey there repose, almost side by side, by no conscious design yet with deep significance, the mortal remains of isaac newton and of charles darwin. "'the origin of species,'" said wallace, "will live as long as the 'principia' of newton." near by are the tombs of sir john herschel, lord kelvin and sir charles lyell; and the medallions in memory of joule, darwin, stokes and adams have been rearranged so as to admit similar memorials of lister, hooker and alfred russel wallace. now that the plan is completed, darwin and wallace are together in this wonderful galaxy of the great men of science of the nineteenth century. several illustrious names are missing from this eminent company; foremost amongst them being that of herbert spencer, the lofty master of that synthetic philosophy which seemed to his disciples to have the proportions and qualities of an enduring monument, and whose incomparable fertility of creative thought entitled him to share the throne with darwin. it was spencer, darwin, wallace, hooker, lyell and huxley who led that historic movement which garnered the work of lamarck and buffon, and gave new direction to the ceaseless interrogation of nature to discover the "how" and the "why" of the august progression of life. looking over the long list of the departed whose names are enshrined in our minster, one has sorrowfully to observe that contemporary opinion of their place in history and abiding worth was not infrequently astray; that memory has, indeed, forgotten their works; and their memorials might be removed to some cloister without loss of respect for the dead, perhaps even with the silent approval of their own day and generation could it awake from its endless sleep and review the strange and eventful course of human life since they left "this bank and shoal of time." but may it not be safely prophesied that of all the names on the starry scroll of national fame that of charles darwin will, surely, remain unquestioned? and entwined with his enduring memory, by right of worth and work, and we know with darwin's fullest approval, our successors will discover the name of alfred russel wallace. darwin and wallace were pre-eminent sons of light. among the great men of the victorian age wallace occupied a unique position. he was the co-discoverer of the illuminating theory of natural selection; he watched its struggle for recognition against prejudice, ignorance, ridicule and misrepresentation; its gradual adoption by its traditional enemies; and its final supremacy. and he lived beyond the hour of its signal triumph and witnessed the further advance into the same field of research of other patient investigators who are disclosing fresh phases of the same fundamental laws of development, and are accumulating a vast array of new facts which tell of still richer light to come to enlighten every man born into the world. to have lived through that brilliant period and into the second decade of the twentieth century; to have outlived all contemporaries, having been the co-revealer of the greatest and most far-reaching generalisation in an era which abounded in fruitful discoveries and in revolutionary advances in the application of science to life, is verily to have been the chosen of the gods. who and what manner of man was alfred russel wallace? who were his forbears? how did he obtain his insight into the closest secrets of nature? what was the extent of his contributions to our stock of human knowledge? in which directions did he most influence his age? what is known of his inner life? these are some of the questions which most present-day readers and all future readers into whose hands this book may come will ask. as to his descent, his upbringing, his education and his estimate of his own character and work, we can, with rare good fortune, refer them to his autobiography, in which he tells his own story and relates the circumstances which, combined with his natural disposition, led him to be a great naturalist and a courageous social reformer; nay more, his autobiography is also in part a peculiar revelation of the inner man such as no biography could approach. we are also able to send inquirers to the biographies and works of his contemporaries--darwin, hooker, lyell, huxley and many others. all this material is already available to the diligent reader. but there are other sources of information which the present book discloses--wallace's home life, the large collection of his own letters, the reminiscences of friends, communications which he received from many co-workers and correspondents which, besides being of interest in themselves, often cast a sidelight upon his own mind and work. all these are of peculiar and intimate value to those who desire to form a complete estimate of wallace. and it is to help the reader to achieve this desirable result that the present work is published. it may be stated here that wallace had suggested to the present writer that he should undertake a new work, to be called "darwin and wallace," which was to have been a comparative study of their literary and scientific writings, with an estimate of the present position of the theory of natural selection as an adequate explanation of the process of organic evolution. wallace had promised to give as much assistance as possible in selecting the material without which the task on such a scale would obviously have been impossible. alas! soon after the agreement with the publishers was signed and in the very month that the plan of the work was to have been shown to wallace, his hand was unexpectedly stilled in death; and the book remains unwritten. but as the names of darwin and wallace are inseparable even by the scythe of time, a slight attempt is here made, in the first sections of part i. and part ii., to take note of their ancestry and the diversities and similarities in their respective characters and environments--social and educational; to mark the chief characteristics of their literary works and the more salient conditions and events which led them, independently, to the idea of natural selection. finally, it may be remarked that up to the present time the unique work and position of wallace have not been fully disclosed owing to his great modesty and to the fact that he outlived all his contemporaries. "i am afraid," wrote sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to him in one of his letters ( ), "the splendid modesty of the big men will be a rarer commodity in the future. no doubt many of the younger ones know an immense deal; but i doubt if many of them will ever exhibit the grasp of great principles which we owe to you and your splendid band of contemporaries." if this work helps to preserve the records of the influence and achievements of this illustrious and versatile genius and of the other eminent men who brought the great conception of evolution to light, it will surely have justified its existence. part i i.--wallace and darwin--early years as springs burst forth, now here, now there, on the mountain side, and find their way together to the vast ocean, so, at certain periods of history, men destined to become great are born within a few years of each other, and in the course of life meet and mingle their varied gifts of soul and intellect for the ultimate benefit of mankind. between the years and at least eight illustrious scientists "saw the light"--sir charles lyell, sir joseph hooker, t.h. huxley, herbert spencer, john tyndall, charles darwin, alfred russel wallace and louis agassiz; whilst amongst statesmen and authors we recall bismarck, gladstone, lincoln, tennyson, longfellow, robert and elizabeth browning, ruskin, john stuart blackie and oliver wendell holmes--a wonderful galaxy of shining names. the first group is the one with which we are closely associated in this section, in which we have brought together the names of charles darwin and alfred russel wallace--between whose births there was a period of fourteen years, darwin being born on the th of february, , and wallace on the th of january, . in each case we are indebted to an autobiography for an account of their early life and work, written almost entirely from memory when at an age which enabled them to take an unbiased view of the past. the autobiography of darwin was written for the benefit of his family only, when he was ; while the two large volumes entitled "my life" were written by wallace when he was , for the pleasure of reviewing his long career. these records are characterised by that charming modesty and simplicity of life and manner which was so marked a feature of both men. in the circumstances surrounding their early days there was very little to indicate the similarity in character and mental gifts which became so evident in their later years. a brief outline of the hereditary influences immediately affecting them will enable us to trace something of the essential differences as well as the similarities which marked their scientific and literary attainments. the earliest records of the darwin family show that in an ancestor of that name (though spelt differently) was a substantial yeoman living on the borders of lincolnshire and yorkshire. in the reign of james i. the post of yeoman of the royal armoury of greenwich was granted to william darwin, whose son served with the royalist army under charles i. during the commonwealth, however, he became a barrister of lincoln's inn, and later the recorder of the city of lincoln. passing over a generation, we find that a brother of dr. erasmus darwin "cultivated botany," and, when far advanced in years, published a volume entitled "principia botanica," while erasmus developed into a poet and philosopher. the eldest son of the latter "inherited a strong taste for various branches of science ... and at a very early age collected specimens of all kinds." the youngest son, robert waring, father of charles darwin, became a successful physician, "a man of genial temperament, strong character, fond of society," and was the possessor of great psychic power by which he could readily sum up the characters of others, and even occasionally read their thoughts. a judicious use of this gift was frequently found to be more efficacious than actual medicine! to the end of his life charles darwin entertained the greatest affection and reverence for his father, and frequently spoke of him to his own children. from this brief summary of the family history it is easy to perceive the inherited traits which were combined in the attractive personality of the great scientist. from his early forbears came the keen love of sport and outdoor exercise (to which considerable reference is made in his youth and early manhood); the close application of the philosopher; and the natural aptitude for collecting specimens of all kinds. to his grandfather he was doubtless indebted for his poetic imagination, which, consciously or unconsciously, pervaded his thoughts and writings, saving them from the cold scientific atmosphere which often chills the lay mind. lastly, the geniality of his father was strongly evidenced by his own love of social intercourse, his courtesy and ready wit, whilst the gentleness of his mother--who unfortunately died when he was years old--left a delicacy of feeling which pervaded his character to the very last. no such sure mental influences, reaching back through several generations, can be traced in the records of the wallace family, although what is known reveals the source of the dogged perseverance with which wallace faced the immense difficulties met with by all early pioneer travellers, of that happy diversity of mental interests which helped to relieve his periods of loneliness and inactivity, and of that quiet determination to pursue to the utmost limit every idea which impressed his mind as containing the germ of a wider and more comprehensive truth than had yet been generally recognised and accepted. the innate reticence and shyness of manner which were noticeable all through his life covered a large-heartedness even in the most careful observation of facts, and produced a tolerant disposition towards his fellow-men even when he most disagreed with their views or dogmas. he was one of those of whom it may be truly said in hackneyed phrases that he was "born great," whilst destined to have "greatness thrust upon him" in the shape of honours which he received with hesitation. from his autobiography we gather that his father, though dimly tracing his descent from the famous wallace of stirling, was born at hanworth, in middlesex, where there appears to have been a small colony of residents bearing the same name but occupying varied social positions, from admiral to hotel-keeper--the grandfather of alfred russel wallace being known as a victualler. thomas vere wallace was the only son of this worthy innkeeper; and, being possessed of somewhat wider ambitions than a country life offered, was articled to a solicitor in london, and eventually became an attorney-at-law. on his father's death he inherited a small private income, and, not being of an energetic disposition, he preferred to live quietly on it instead of continuing his practice. his main interests were somewhat literary and artistic, but without any definite aim; and this lack of natural energy, mental and physical, reappeared in most of the nine children subsequently born to him, including alfred russel, who realised that had it not been for the one definite interest which gradually determined his course in life (an interest demanding steady perseverance and concentrated thought as well as physical enterprise), his career might easily have been much less useful. it was undoubtedly from his father that he acquired an appreciation of good literature, as they were in the habit of hearing shakespeare and similar works read aloud round the fireside on winter nights; whilst from his mother came artistic and business-like instincts--several of her relatives having been architects of no mean skill, combining with their art sound business qualities which placed them in positions of civic authority and brought them the respect due to men of upright character and good parts. during the chequered experiences which followed the marriage of thomas vere wallace and mary ann greenell there appears to have been complete mutual affection and understanding. although wallace makes but slight reference to his mother's character and habits, one may readily conclude that her disposition and influence were such as to leave an indelible impression for good on the minds of her children, amongst her qualities being a talent for not merely accepting circumstances but in a quiet way making the most of each experience as it came--a talent which we find repeated on many occasions in the life of her son alfred. it is a little curious that each of these great scientists should have been born in a house overlooking a well-known river--the home of the darwins standing on the banks of the severn, at shrewsbury, and that of the wallaces a stone's throw from the waters of the romantic and beautiful usk, of monmouthshire. with remarkable clearness dr. wallace could recall events and scenes back to the time when he was only years of age. his first childish experiment occurred about that time, due to his being greatly impressed by the story of the "fox and the pitcher" in Ã�sop's fables. finding a jar standing in the yard outside their house, he promptly proceeded to pour a small quantity of water into it, and then added a handful of small stones. the water not rising to the surface, as it did in the fable, he found a spade and scraped up a mixture of earth and pebbles which he added to the stones already in the jar. the result, however, proving quite unsatisfactory, he gave up the experiment in disgust and refused to believe in the truth of the fable. his restless brain and vivid imagination at this early period is shown by some dreams which he could still recall when years of age; whilst the strong impression left on his mind by certain localities, with all their graphic detail of form and colour, enabled him to enjoy over again many of the simple pleasures that made up his early life in the beautiful grounds of the ancient castle in which he used to play. the first great event in his life was the journey undertaken by ferry-boat and stage-coach from usk to hertford, to which town the family removed when he was years old, and where they remained for the next eight years, until he left school. the morning after their arrival an incident occurred which left its trace as of a slender golden thread running throughout the fabric of his long life. alfred, with child-like curiosity about his new surroundings, wandered into the yard behind their house, and presently heard a voice coming from the other side of the low wall, saying, "hallo! who are you?" and saw a boy about his own age peering over the top. explanations followed, and soon, by the aid of two water-butts, the small boys found themselves sitting side by side on the top of the wall, holding a long and intimate conversation. thus began his friendship with george silk, and by some curious trend of circumstances the two families became neighbours on several subsequent occasions,[ ] so that the friendship was maintained until in due course the boys separated each to his own way in life--the one to wander in foreign lands, the other to occupy a responsible position at home. after spending about a year at private schools, alfred wallace was sent with his brother john to hertford grammar school. his recollections of these school days are full of interest, especially as contrasted with the school life of to-day. he says: "we went to school even in the winter at seven in the morning, and three days a week remained till five in the afternoon; some artificial light was necessary, and this was effected by the primitive method of every boy bringing his own candle or candle-ends with any kind of candlestick he liked. an empty ink-bottle was often used, or the candle was even stuck on to the desk with a little of its own grease. so that it enabled us to learn our lessons or do our sums, no one seemed to trouble about how we provided the light." though never robust in health, he enjoyed all the usual boyish sports, especially such as appealed to his imagination and love of adventure. not far from the school a natural cave, formed in a chalky slope and partially concealed by undergrowth, made an excellent resort for "brigands"; and to this hiding place were brought potatoes and other provisions which could be cooked and eaten in primitive fashion, with an air of secrecy which added to the mystery and attraction of the boyish adventure. it is curious to note that one destined to become a great traveller and explorer should have found the study of geography "a painful subject." but this was, as he afterwards understood, entirely due to the method of teaching then, and sometimes now, in vogue, which made no appeal whatever to the imagination by creating a mental picture of the peoples and nations, or the varied wonders and beauties of nature which distinguish one country from another. "no interesting facts were ever given, no accounts of the country by travellers were ever read, no good maps ever given us, nothing but the horrid stream of unintelligible place names to be learnt." the only subjects in which he considered that he gained some valuable grounding at school were latin, arithmetic, and writing. this estimate of the value of the grammar-school teaching is echoed in darwin's own words when describing his school days at precisely the same age at shrewsbury grammar school, where, he says, "the school as a means of education to me was simply a blank." it is therefore interesting to notice, side by side, as it were, the occupation which each boy found for himself out of school hours, and which in both instances proved of immense value in their respective careers in later life. darwin, even at this early age, found his "taste for natural history, and more especially for collecting," well developed. "i tried," he says, "to make out the names of plants, and collected all sorts of things, shells, seals, franks, coins and minerals. the passion for collecting which leads a man to be a systematic naturalist ... was very strong in me, and was clearly innate, as none of my sisters or brothers ever had this taste." he also speaks of himself as having been a very "simple little fellow" by the manner in which he was either himself deceived or tried to deceive others in a harmless way. as an instance of this, he remembered declaring that he could "produce variously coloured polyanthuses and primroses by watering them with certain coloured fluids," though he knew all the time it was untrue. his feeling of tenderness towards all animals and insects is revealed in the fact that he could not remember--except on one occasion--ever taking more than one egg out of a bird's nest; and though a keen angler, as soon as he heard that he could kill the worms with salt and water he never afterwards "spitted a living worm, though at the expense, probably, of some loss of success!" nothing thwarted young darwin's intense joy and interest in collecting minerals and insects, and in watching and making notes upon the habits of birds. in addition to this wholesome outdoor hobby, the tedium of school lessons was relieved for him by reading shakespeare, byron and scott--also a copy of "wonders of the world" which belonged to one of the boys, and to which he always attributed his first desire to travel in remote countries, little thinking how his dreams would be fulfilled. whilst charles darwin occupied himself with outdoor sport and collecting, with a very moderate amount of reading thrown in at intervals, wallace, on the contrary, devoured all the books he could get; and fortunately for him, his father having been appointed librarian to the hertford town library, alfred had access to all the books that appealed to his mental appetite; and these, especially the historical novels, supplemented the lack of interesting history lessons at school, besides giving him an insight into many kinds of literature suited to his varied tastes and temperament. in addition, however, to the hours spent in reading, he and his brother john found endless delight in turning the loft of an outhouse adjoining their yard into a sort of mechanical factory. here they contrived, by saving up all their pence (the only pocket-money that came to them), to make crackers and other simple fireworks, and to turn old keys into toy cannon, besides making a large variety of articles for practical domestic purposes. thus he cultivated the gift of resourcefulness and self-reliance on which he had so often to depend when far removed from all civilisation during his travels on the amazon and in the malay archipelago. a somewhat amusing instance of this is found in a letter to his sister, dated june th, , at a time when he wanted a really capable man for his companion, in place of the good-natured but incapable boy charles, whom he had brought with him from london to teach collecting. in reply to some remarks by his sister about a young man who she thought would be suitable, he wrote: "do not tell me merely that he is 'a very nice young man.' of course he is.... i should like to know whether he can live on rice and salt fish for a week on occasion.... can he sleep on a board?... can he walk twenty miles a day? whether he can work, for there is sometimes as hard work in collecting as in anything. can he saw a piece of wood straight? ask him to make you anything--a little card box, a wooden peg or bottle-stopper, and see if he makes them neat and square." in another letter he describes the garden and live stock he had been able to obtain where he was living; and in yet another he gives a long list of his domestic woes and tribulations--which, however, were overcome with the patience inculcated in early life by his hobbies, and also by the fact that the family was always more or less in straitened circumstances, so that the children were taught to make themselves useful in various ways in order to assist their mother in the home. as he grew from childhood into youth, alfred wallace's extreme sensitiveness developed to an almost painful degree. he grew rapidly, and his unusual height made him still more shy when forced to occupy any prominent position amongst boys of his own age. during the latter part of his time at hertford grammar school his father was unable to pay the usual fees, and it was agreed that alfred should act as pupil teacher in return for the lessons received. this arrangement, while acceptable on the one hand, caused him actual mental and physical pain on the other, as it increased his consciousness of the disabilities under which he laboured in contrast with most of the other boys of his own age. at the age of wallace was taken away from school, and until something could be definitely decided about his future--as up to the present he had no particular bent in any one direction--he was sent to london to live with his brother john, who was then working for a master builder in the vicinity of tottenham court road. this was in january, , and it was during the following summer that he joined his other brother, william, at barton-on-the-clay, bedfordshire, and began land surveying. in the meantime, while in london, he had been brought very closely into contact with the economics and ethics of robert owen, the well-known socialist; and although very young in years he was so deeply impressed with the reasonableness and practical outcome of these theories that, though considerably modified as time went on, they formed the foundation for his own writings on socialism and allied subjects in after years. as one of our aims in this section is to suggest an outline of the contrasting influences governing the early lives of wallace and darwin, it is interesting to note that at the ages of and respectively, and immediately on leaving school, they came under the first definite mental influence which was to shape their future thought and action. yet how totally different from wallace's trials as a pupil teacher was the removal of darwin from dr. butler's school at shrewsbury because "he was doing no good" there, and his father thought it was "time he settled down to his medical study in edinburgh," never heeding the fact that his son had already one passion in life, apart from "shooting, dogs, and rat-catching," which stood a very good chance of saving him from becoming the disgrace to the family that his good father feared. so that while wallace was imbibing his first lessons in socialism at years of age, darwin at found himself merely enduring, with a feeling of disgust, dr. duncan's lectures, which were "something fearful to remember," on materia medica at eight o'clock on a winter's morning, and, worse still, dr. munro's lectures on human anatomy, which were "as dull as he was himself." yet he always deeply regretted not having been urged to practise dissection, because of the invaluable aid it would have been to him as a naturalist. by mental instinct, however, darwin soon found himself studying marine zoology and other branches of natural science. this was in a large measure due to his intimacy with dr. grant, who, in a later article on flustra, made some allusion to a paper read by darwin before the linnean society on a small discovery which he had made by the aid of a "wretched microscope" to the effect that the so-called ova of flustra were really larvæ and had the power of independent action by means of cilia. during his second year in edinburgh he attended jameson's lectures on geology and zoology, but found them so "incredibly dull" that he determined never to study the science. then came the final move which, all unknowingly, was to lead darwin into the pursuit of a science which up to that time had only been a hobby and not in any sense the serious profession of his life. but again how wide the difference between his change from edinburgh to cambridge, and that of wallace from a month's association with a working-class socialistic community in london to land surveying under the simplest rural conditions prevalent amongst the respectable labouring farmers of bedfordshire--darwin to the culture and privileges of a great university with the object of becoming a clergyman, and wallace taking the first road that offered towards earning a living, with no thought as to the ultimate outcome of this life in the open and the systematic observation of soils and land formation. but the inherent tendencies of darwin's nature drew him away from theology to the study of geology, entomology and botany. the ensuing four years at cambridge were very happy ones. while fortunate in being able to follow his various mental and scientific pursuits with the freedom which a good social and financial position secured for him, he found himself by a natural seriousness of manner, balanced by a cheerful temperament and love of sport, the friend and companion of men many years his seniors and holding positions of authority in the world of science. amongst these the name of professor henslow will always take precedence. "this friendship," says darwin, "influenced my whole career more than any other." henslow's extensive knowledge of botany, geology, entomology, chemistry and mineralogy, added to his sincere and attractive personality, well-balanced mind and excellent judgment, formed a strong and effective bias in the direction darwin was destined to follow. apart, however, from the strong personal influence of henslow, sedgwick and others with whom he came much in contact, two books which he read at this time aroused his "burning zeal to add the most humble contribution to the noble structure of natural science"; these were sir j. herschel's "introduction to the study of natural philosophy," and humboldt's "personal narrative." indeed, so fascinated was he by the description given of teneriffe in the latter that he at once set about a plan whereby he might spend a holiday, with henslow, in that locality, a holiday which was, indeed, to form part of his famous voyage. by means of his explorations in the neighbourhood of cambridge, and one or two visits to north wales, darwin's experimental knowledge of geology and allied sciences was considerably increased. in his zeal for collecting beetles he employed a labourer to "scrape the moss off old trees in winter, and place it in a bag, and likewise to collect the rubbish at the bottom of the barges in which reeds were brought from the fens, and thus ... got some very rare species." during the summer vacation of , at the personal request of henslow, he accompanied professor sedgwick on a geological tour in north wales. in order, no doubt, to give him some independent experience, sedgwick sent darwin on a line parallel with his own, telling him to bring back specimens of the rocks and to mark the stratification on a map. in later years darwin was amazed to find how much both of them had failed to observe, "yet these phenomena were so conspicuous that ... a house burnt down by fire could not tell its story more plainly than did the valley of cwm idwal." this tour was the introduction to a momentous change in his life. on returning to shrewsbury he found a letter awaiting him which contained the offer of a voyage in h.m.s. _beagle_. but owing to several objections raised by dr. darwin, he wrote and declined the offer; and if it had not been for the immediate intervention of his uncle, mr. josiah wedgwood (to whose house he went the following day to begin the shooting season), who took quite a different view of the proposition, the "journal of researches during the voyage of h.m.s. _beagle_," by charles darwin, would never have been written. at length, however, after much preparation and many delays, the _beagle_ sailed from plymouth on december th, , and five years elapsed before darwin set foot again on english soil. the period, therefore, in darwin's life which we find covered by his term at edinburgh and cambridge, until at the age of he found himself suddenly launched on an entirely new experience full of adventure and fresh association, was spent by wallace in a somewhat similar manner in so far as his outward objective in life was more or less distinct from the pursuits which gradually dawned upon his horizon, though they were followed as a "thing apart" and not as an ultimate end. with wallace's removal into bedfordshire an entirely new life opened up before him. his health, never very good, rapidly improved; both brain and eye were trained to practical observations which proved eminently valuable. his descriptions of the people with whom he came in contact during these years of country life reveal the quiet toleration of the faults and foibles of others, not devoid of the keen sense of humour and justice which characterised his lifelong attitude towards his fellow-men. the many interests of his new life, together with the use of a pocket sextant, prompted him to make various experiments for himself. the only sources from which he could obtain helpful information, however, were some cheap elementary books on mechanics and optics which he procured from the society for the diffusion of useful knowledge; these he studied and "puzzled over" for several years. "having no friends of my own age," he wrote, "i occupied myself with various pursuits in which i had begun to take an interest. having learnt the use of the sextant in surveying, and my brother having a book on nautical astronomy, i practised a few of the simpler observations. among these were determining the meridian by equal altitudes of the sun, and also by the pole-star at its upper or lower culmination; finding the latitude by the meridian altitude of the sun, or of some of the principal stars; and making a rude sundial by erecting a gnomon towards the pole. for these simple calculations i had hannay and dietrichsen's almanac, a copious publication which gave all the important data in the nautical almanac, besides much other interesting matter useful for the astronomical amateur or the ordinary navigator. i also tried to make a telescope by purchasing a lens of about ft. focus at an optician's in swansea, fixing it in a paper tube and using the eye-piece of a small opera-glass. with it i was able to observe the moon and jupiter's satellites, and some of the larger star-clusters; but, of course, very imperfectly. yet it served to increase my interest in astronomy, and to induce me to study with some care the various methods of construction of the more important astronomical instruments; and it also led me throughout my life to be deeply interested in the grand onward march of astronomical discovery."[ ] at the same time wallace became attracted by, and interested in, the flowers, shrubs and trees growing in that part of bedfordshire, and he acquired some elementary knowledge of zoology. "it was," he writes, "while living at barton that i obtained my first information that there was such a science as geology.... my brother, like most land-surveyors, was something of a geologist, and he showed me the fossil oysters of the genus gryphæa and the belemnites ... and several other fossils which were abundant in the chalk and gravel around barton.... it was here, too, that during my solitary rambles i first began to feel the influence of nature and to wish to know more of the various flowers, shrubs and trees i daily met with, but of which for the most part i did not even know the english names. at that time i hardly realised that there was such a science as systematic botany, that every flower and every meanest and most insignificant weed had been accurately described and classified, and that there was any kind of system or order in the endless variety of plants and animals which i knew existed. this wish to know the names of wild plants, to be able to speak ... about them, had arisen from a chance remark i had overheard about a year before. a lady ... whom we knew at hertford, was talking to some friends in the street when i and my father met them ... [and] i heard the lady say, 'we found quite a rarity the other day--the monotropa; it had not been found here before.' this i pondered over, and wondered what the monotropa was. all my father could tell me was that it was a rare plant; and i thought how nice it must be to know the names of rare plants when you found them."[ ] one can picture the tall quiet boy going on these solitary rambles, his eye becoming gradually quickened to perceive new forms in nature, contrasting them one with another, and beginning to ponder over the _cause_ which led to the diverse formation and colouring of leaves apparently of the same family. it was in , four years later, that he heard of, and at once procured, a book published at a shilling by the s.p.c.k. (the title of which he could not recall in after years), to which he owed his first scientific glimmerings of the vast study of botany. the next step was to procure, at much self-sacrifice, lindley's "elements of botany," published at half a guinea, which to his immense disappointment he found of very little use, as it did not deal with british plants! his disappointment was lessened, however, by the loan from a mr. hayward of london's "encyclopedia of plants," and it was with the help of these two books that he made his first classification of the specimens which he had collected and carefully kept during the few preceding years. "it must be remembered," he says in "my life," "that my ignorance of plants at this time was extreme. i knew the wild rose, bramble, hawthorn, buttercup, poppy, daisy and foxglove, and a very few others equally common.... i knew nothing whatever as to genera and species, nor of the large number of distinct forms related to each and grouped into natural orders. my delight, therefore, was great when i was ... able to identify the charming little eyebright, the strange-looking cow-wheat and louse-wort, the handsome mullein and the pretty creeping toad-flax, and to find that all of them, as well as the lordly foxglove, formed parts of one great natural order, and that under all their superficial diversity of form was a similarity of structure which, when once clearly understood, enabled me to locate each fresh species with greater ease." this, however, was not sufficient, and the last step was to form a herbarium. "i soon found," he wrote, "that by merely identifying the plants i found in my walks i lost much time in gathering the same species several times, and even then not being always quite sure that i had found the same plant before. i therefore began to form a herbarium, collecting good specimens and drying them carefully between drying papers and a couple of boards weighted with books or stones.... i first named the species as nearly as i could do so, and then laid them out to be pressed and dried. at such times," he continues--and i have quoted the passage for the sake of this revealing confession--"i experienced the joy which every discovery of a new form of life gives to the lover of nature, almost equal to those raptures which i afterwards felt at every capture of new butterflies on the amazon, or at the constant stream of new species of birds, beetles and butterflies in borneo, the moluccas, and the aru islands."[ ] anything in the shape of gardening papers and catalogues which came in his way was eagerly read, and to this source he owed his first interest in the fascinating orchid. "a catalogue published by a great nurseryman in bristol ... contained a number of tropical orchids, of whose wonderful variety and beauty i had obtained some idea from the woodcuts in loudon's 'encyclopedia.' the first epiphytal orchid i ever saw was at a flower show in swansea ... which caused in me a thrill of enjoyment which no other plant in the show produced. my interest in this wonderful order of plants was further enhanced by reading in the _gardener's chronicle_ an article by dr. lindley on one of the london flower shows, where there was a good display of orchids, in which ... he added, 'and _dendrobium devonianum_, too delicate and beautiful for a flower of earth.' this and other references ... gave them, in my mind, a weird and mysterious charm ... which, i believe, had its share in producing that longing for the tropics which a few years later was satisfied in the equatorial forests of the amazon."[ ] for a brief period, when there was a lull in the surveying business and his prospects of continuing in this profession looked uncertain, he tried watchmaking, and would probably--though not by choice--have been apprenticed to it but for an unexpected circumstance which caused his master to give up his business. alfred gladly, when the occasion offered, returned to his outdoor life, which had begun to make the strongest appeal to him, stronger, perhaps, than he was really aware. early in another break occurred, due to the sudden falling off of land surveying as a profitable business. his brother could no longer afford to keep him as assistant, finding it indeed difficult to obtain sufficient employment for himself. as wallace knew no other trade or profession, the only course which occurred to his mind as possible by which to earn a living was to get a post as school teacher. after one or two rather amusing experiences, he eventually found himself in very congenial surroundings under the rev. abraham hill, headmaster of the collegiate school at leicester. here he stayed for a little more than a year, during which time--in addition to his school work and a considerable amount of hard reading on subjects to which he had not hitherto been able to devote himself--he was led to become greatly interested in phrenology and mesmerism, and before long found himself something of an expert in giving mesmeric demonstrations before small audiences. phrenology, he believed, proved of much value in determining his own characteristics, good and bad, and in guiding him to a wise use of the faculties which made for his ultimate success; while his introduction to mesmerism had not a little to do with his becoming interested and finally convinced of the part played by spiritualistic forces and agencies in human life. the most important event, however, during this year at leicester was his meeting with h.w. bates, through whom he was introduced to the absorbing study of beetles and butterflies, the link which culminated in their mutual exploration of the amazon. it is curious that wallace retained no distinct recollection of how or when he met bates for the first time, but thought that "he heard him mentioned as an enthusiastic entomologist and met him at the library." bates was at this time employed by his father, who was a hosiery manufacturer, and he could therefore only devote his spare time to collecting beetles in the surrounding neighbourhood. the friendship brought new interests into both lives, and though wallace was obliged a few months later to leave leicester and return to his old work of surveying (owing to the sudden death of his brother william, whose business affairs were left in an unsatisfactory condition and needed personal attention), he no longer found in it the satisfaction he had previously experienced, and his letters to bates expressed the desire to strike out on some new line, one which would satisfy his craving for a definite pursuit in the direction of natural science. somewhere about the autumn of , bates paid a visit to wallace at neath, and the plan to go to the amazon which had been slowly forming itself at length took shape, due to the perusal of a little book entitled "a voyage up the river amazon," by w.h. edwards. further investigations showed that this would be particularly advantageous, as the district had only been explored by the german zoologist, von spix, and the botanist von martins, in - , and subsequently by count de castelnau. during this interval we find, in a letter to bates, the following allusion to darwin, which is the first record of wallace's high estimate of the man with whom his own name was to be dramatically associated ten years later. "i first," he says, "read darwin's journal three or four years ago, and have lately re-read it. as the journal of a scientific traveller it is second only to humboldt's narrative; as a work of general interest, perhaps superior to it. he is an ardent admirer and most able supporter of mr. lyell's views. his style of writing i very much admire, so free from all labour, or egotism, yet so full of interest and original thought."[ ] the early part of was occupied in making arrangements with mr. samuel stevens, of king street, covent garden, to act as their agent in disposing of a duplicate collection of specimens which they proposed sending home; by this means paying their expenses during the time they were away, any surplus being invested against their return. this and other matters being satisfactorily settled, they eventually sailed from liverpool on april th in a barque of tons, said to be "a very fast sailer," which proved to be correct. on arriving at para about a month later, they immediately set about finding a house, learning something of the language, the habits of the people amongst whom they had come to live, and making short excursions into the forest before starting on longer and more trying explorations up country. wallace's previous vivid imaginings of what life in the tropics would mean, so far as the surpassing beauty of nature was concerned, were not immediately fulfilled. as a starting-point, however, para had many advantages. besides the pleasant climate, the country for some hundreds of miles was found to be nearly level at an elevation of about or ft. above the river; the first distinct rise occurring some miles up the river tocantins, south-west of para; the whole district was intersected by streams, with cross channels connecting them, access by this means being comparatively easy to villages and estates lying farther inland. before making an extensive excursion into the interior, he spent some time on the larger islands at the mouth of the amazon, on one of which he immediately noticed the scarcity of trees, while "the abundance of every kind of animal life crowded into a small space was here very striking, compared with the sparse manner in which it is scattered in the virgin forests. it seems to force us to the conclusion that the luxuriance of tropical vegetation is not favourable to the production of animal life. the plains are always more thickly peopled than the forest; and a temperate zone, as has been pointed out by mr. darwin, seems better adapted to the support of large land animals than the tropics." we have already referred to the fact that at the very early age of wallace had imbibed his first ideas of socialism, or how the "commonwealth" of a people or nation was the outcome of cause and effect, largely due to the form of government, political economy and progressive commerce best suited to any individual state or country. the seed took deep root, and during the years spent for the most part amongst an agricultural people in england and wales his interest in these questions had been quickened by observation and intelligent inquiry. it is no wonder, therefore, that during the whole of his travels we find many intimate references to such matters regarding the locality in which he happened to find himself, but which can only be noticed in a very casual manner in this section. for instance, he soon discovered that the climate and soil round para conduced to the cultivation of almost every kind of food, such as cocoa, coffee, sugar, farinha (the universal bread of the country) from the mandioca plant, with vegetables and fruits in inexhaustible variety; while the articles of export included india-rubber, brazil nuts, and piassaba (the coarse, stiff fibre of a palm, used for making brooms for street sweeping), as well as sarsaparilla, balsam-capivi, and a few other drugs. the utter lack of initiative, or even ordinary interest, in making the most of the opportunities lying at hand, struck him again and again as he went from place to place and was entertained hospitably by hosts of various nationalities; until at times the impression is conveyed that apart from his initial interest as a naturalist, a longing seized him to arouse those who were primarily responsible for these conditions out of the apathy into which they had fallen, and to make them realise the larger pleasure which life offers to those who recognise the opportunities at hand, not only for their own advancement but also for the benefit of those placed under their control. all of which we find happily illustrated during his visit to sarawak, in the malay archipelago. the whole of these four years was crowded with valuable experiences of one sort and another. some of the most toilsome journeys proved only a disappointment, while others brought success beyond his most sanguine dreams. at the end of two years it was agreed between himself and bates that they should separate, wallace doing the northern parts and tributaries of the amazon, and bates the main stream, which, from the fork of the rio negro, is called the upper amazon, or the solimoes. by this arrangement they were able to cover more ground, besides devoting themselves to the special goal of research on which each was bent. in the meantime, wallace's younger brother, herbert, had come out to join him, and for some time their journeys were made conjointly; but finding that his brother was not temperamentally fitted to become a naturalist, it was decided that he should return to england. accordingly, they parted at barra when wallace started on his long journey up the rio negro, the duration of which was uncertain; and it was not until many months after the sad event that he heard the distressing news that herbert had died of yellow fever on the eve of his departure from para for home. fortunately, bates was in para at the time, and did what he could for the boy until stricken down himself with the same sickness, from which, however, his stronger constitution enabled him to recover. perhaps the most eventful and memorable journey during this period was the exploration of the uaupés river, of which wallace wrote nearly sixty years later: "so far as i have heard, no english traveller has to this day ascended the uaupés river so far as i did, and no collector has stayed at any time at javita, or has even passed through it." from a communication received from the royal geographical society it appears that the first complete survey of this river (a compass traverse supplemented by astronomical observations) was made ( - ) by dr. hamilton rice, starting from the side of colombia, and tracing the whole course of the river from a point near the source of its head-stream. the result showed that the general course of the lower river was much as represented by wallace, though considerable corrections were necessary both in latitude and longitude. "i am assured by authorities on the rio negro region," writes dr. scott keltie to mr. w.g. wallace, under date may , , "that your father's work still holds good." in may, , wallace returned to para, and sailed for england the following july. the ship took fire at sea, and all his treasures (not previously sent to england) were unhappily lost. ten days and nights were spent in an open boat before another vessel picked them up, and in describing this terrible experience he says: "when the danger appeared past i began to feel the greatness of my loss. with what pleasure had i looked upon every rare and curious insect i had added to my collection! how many times, when almost overcome by the ague, had i crawled into the forest and been rewarded by some unknown and beautiful species! how many places, which no european foot but my own had trodden, would have been recalled to my memory by the rare birds and insects they had furnished to my collection! how many weary days and weeks had i passed, upheld only by the fond hope of bringing home many new and beautiful forms from these wild regions ... which would prove that i had not wasted the advantage i had enjoyed, and would give me occupation and amusement for many years to come! and now ... i had not one specimen to illustrate the unknown lands i had trod, or to call back the recollection of the wild scenes i had beheld! but such regrets were vain ... and i tried to occupy myself with the state of things which actually existed."[ ] on reaching london, wallace took a house in upper albany street, where his mother and his married sister (mrs. sims), with her husband, a photographer, came to live with him. the next eighteen months were fully occupied with sorting and arranging such collections as had previously reached england; writing his book of travels up the amazon and rio negro (published in the autumn of ), and a little book on the palm trees based on a number of fine pencil sketches he had preserved in a tin box, the only thing saved from the wreck. in summing up the most vivid impressions left on his mind, apart from purely scientific results, after his four years in south america, he wrote that the feature which he could never think of without delight was "the wonderful variety and exquisite beauty of the butterflies and birds ... ever new and beautiful, strange and even mysterious," so that he could "hardly recall them without a thrill of admiration and wonder." but "the most unexpected sensation of surprise and delight was my first meeting and living with man in a state of nature--with absolute uncontaminated savages!... and the surprise of it was that i did not expect to be at all so surprised.... these true wild indians of the uaupés ... had nothing that we call clothes; they had peculiar ornaments, tribal marks, etc.; they all carried tools or weapons of their own manufacture.... but more than all, their whole aspect and manner was different--they were all going about their own work or pleasure, which had nothing to do with white men or their ways; they walked with the free step of the independent forest-dweller, and, except the few that were known to my companion, paid no attention whatever to us, mere strangers of an alien race! in every detail they were original and self-sustaining as are the wild animals of the forest, absolutely independent of civilisation.... i could not have believed that there would have been so much difference in the aspect of the same people in their native state and when living under european supervision. the true denizen of the amazonian forest, like the forest itself, is unique and not to be forgotten." the foregoing "impressions" recall forcibly those expressed by darwin in similar terms at the close of his "journal": "delight ... is a weak term to express the feelings of a naturalist who, for the first time, has wandered by himself in a brazilian forest. the elegance of the grasses, the novelty of the parasitical plants, the beauty of the flowers, the glossy green of the foliage ... the general luxuriance of the vegetation, filled me with admiration. a paradoxical mixture of sound and silence pervades the shady parts of the wood ... yet within the recesses ... a universal silence appears to reign ... such a day as this brings with it a deeper pleasure than he (a naturalist) can ever hope to experience again,"[ ] and in another place: "among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind, none can exceed in sublimity the primeval forests undefaced by the hand of man; ... temples filled with the various productions of the god of nature; ... no one can stand in these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there is more in man than the mere breath of his body."[ ] in complete contrast to the forest, the bare, treeless, and uninhabited plains of patagonia "frequently crossed before" darwin's eyes. why, he could not understand, except that, being so "boundless," they left "free scope for the imagination." as these travels,[ ] undertaken at comparatively the same age, represent the foundation upon which their scientific work and theories were based during the long years which followed, a glance at the conditions governing the separate expeditions--both mental and physical--may be of some value. the most obvious difference lies, perhaps, in the fact that darwin was free from the thought of having to "pay his way" by the immediate result of his efforts, and likewise from all care and anxiety regarding domestic concerns; the latter being provided for him when on board the _beagle_, or arranged by those who accompanied him on his travels overland and by river. the elimination of these minor cares tended to leave his mind free and open to absorb and speculate at comparative leisure upon all the strange phenomena which presented themselves throughout the long voyage. a further point of interest in determining the ultimate gain or loss lies in the fact that darwin's private excursions had to be somewhat subservient to the movements of the _beagle_ under the command of captain fitz-roy. this, in all probability, was beneficial to one of his temperament--unaccustomed to be greatly restricted by outward circumstances or conditions, though never flagrantly (or, perhaps, consciously) going against them. the same applies in a measure to wallace, who, on more than one occasion, confessed his tendency to a feeling of semi-idleness and dislike to any form of enforced physical exertion; but as every detail, involving constant forethought and arrangement, as well as the execution, devolved upon himself, the latent powers of methodical perseverance, which never failed him, no matter what difficulties barred his way, were called forth. darwin's estimate of the "habit of mind" forced upon himself during this period may not inaptly be applied to both men: "everything about which i thought or read was made to bear directly on what i had seen, or was likely to see; and this habit of mind was continued during the five years of the voyage. i feel sure that it was this training which enabled me to do whatever i have done in science." it may be further assumed that darwin was better equipped mentally--from a scientific point of view--owing to his personal intercourse with eminent scientific men previous to his assuming this responsible position. wallace, on the contrary, had practically little beyond book-knowledge and such experience as he had been able to gain by solitary wanderings in the localities in which he had, by circumstances, been forced to reside. his plan of operations must, therefore, have been largely modified and adapted as time went on, and as his finances allowed. to both, therefore, credit is due for the adaptability evinced under conditions not always congenial or conducive to the pursuits they had undertaken. although the fact is not definitely stated by wallace, it may readily be inferred that the idea of making this the starting-point of a new life was clearly in his mind; while darwin simply accepted the opportunity when it came, and was only brought to a consciousness of its full meaning and bearing on his future career whilst studying the geological aspect of santiago when "the line of white rock revealed a new and important fact," namely, that there had been afterwards subsidence round the craters, which had since been in action and had poured forth lava. "it then," he says, "first dawned on me that i might perhaps write a book on the geology of the various countries visited, and this made me thrill with delight. that was a memorable hour to me; and how distinctly i can call to mind the low cliff of lava, beneath which i rested, with the sun glaring hot, a few strange desert plants growing near, and with living corals in the tidal pools at my feet!"[ ] another point of comparison lies in the fact that at no time did the study of man or human nature, from the metaphysical and psychological point of view, appeal to darwin as it did to wallace; and this being so, the similarity between the impression made on them individually by their first contact with primitive human beings is of some interest. wallace's words have already been quoted; here are darwin's: "nothing is more certain to create astonishment than the first sight in his native haunt of a barbarian, of man in his lowest and most savage state. one asks: 'could our progenitors have been men like these--men whose very signs and expressions are less intelligible to us than those of the domesticated animals; men who do not possess the instinct of those animals, nor yet appear to boast of human reason, or at least of arts consequent on that reason?' i do not believe it is possible to describe or paint the difference between a savage and civilised man. it is the difference between a wild and tame animal."[ ] the last words suggest the seed-thought eventually to be enlarged in "the descent of man," and there is also perhaps a subtle suggestion of the points in which wallace differed from darwin when the time came for them to discuss this important section of the theory of evolution. it needed, however, the further eight years spent by wallace in the malay archipelago to bring about a much wider knowledge of nature-science before he was prepared in any way to assume the position of exponent of theories not seriously thought of previously in the scientific world. in the autumn of , on the completion of his "travels on the amazon and rio negro," wallace paid his first visit to switzerland, on a walking tour in company with his friend george silk. on his return, and during the winter months, he was constant in his attendance at the meetings of the entomological and zoological societies. it was at one of these evening gatherings that he first met huxley, and he also had a vague recollection of once meeting and speaking to darwin at the british museum. had it not been for his extreme shyness of disposition, and (according to his own estimation) "lack of conversational powers," he would doubtless have become far more widely known, and have enjoyed the friendship of not a few of the eminent men who shared his interests, during this interval before starting on his journey to singapore. it was due to his close study of the insect and bird departments of the british museum that he decided on singapore as a new starting-point for his natural history collections. as the region was generally healthy, and no part of it (with the exception of the island of java) had been explored, it offered unlimited attractions for his special work. but as the journey out would be an expensive one, he was advised to lay his plans before sir roderick murchison, then president of the royal geographical society, and it was through his kindly interest and personal application to the government that a passage was provided in one of the p. and o. boats going to singapore. he left early in . arrived at singapore, an entirely new world opened up before him. new peoples and customs thronged on all hands, a medley of nationalities such as can only be seen in the east, where, even to-day, and though forming part of one large community, each section preserves its native dress, customs and religious habits. after spending some time at singapore he moved from place to place, but finally decided upon making ternate his head-quarters, as he discovered a comfortable bungalow, not too large, and adaptable in every way as a place in which to collect and prepare his specimens between the many excursions to other parts of the archipelago. the name is now indelibly associated with that particular visit which ended after a trying journey in an attack of intermittent fever and general prostration, during which he first conceived the idea which has made ternate famous in the history of natural science. [illustration: a.r. wallace singapore, ] one or two points in the following letters recall certain contrasts similar to those already drawn between darwin's impression of places and people and those made on the mind of wallace by practically the same conditions. a typical instance is found in their estimate of the life and work of the missionaries whom they met and from whom they received the warmest hospitality. their experience included both protestant and roman catholic, and from darwin's account the former appeared to him to have the more civilising effect on the people, not only from a religious but also from the economic and industrial points of view. in the "journal" (p. ) we find a detailed account of a visit to the missionary settlement at waimate, new zealand. after describing the familiar english appearance of the whole surroundings, he adds: "all this is very surprising when it is considered that five years ago nothing but the fern flourished here. moreover, native workmanship, taught by these missionaries, has effected this change--the lesson of the missionary is the enchanter's wand. the house had been built, the windows framed, the fields ploughed, and even the trees grafted, by the new zealander. when i looked at the whole scene it was admirable. it was not that england was brought vividly before my mind; ... nor was it the triumphant feeling at seeing what englishmen could effect; but rather the high hopes thus inspired for the future progress of this fine island." no such feeling was inspired by the conditions surrounding the roman catholic missionaries whom he met from time to time. in an earlier part of the "journal" he records an evening spent with one living in a lonely place in south america who, "coming from santiago, had contrived to surround himself with some few comforts. being a man of some little education, he bitterly complained of the total want of society. with no particular zeal for religion, no business or pursuit, how completely must this man's life be wasted." in complete opposition to these views, passages occur in the following letters which show that wallace thought more highly of the roman catholic than of the protestant missionaries. in one place, speaking of the former, he says: "most are frenchmen ... well-educated men who give up their lives for the good of the people they live among, i think catholics and protestants are equally wrong, but as missionaries i think catholics are the best, and i would gladly see none others rather than have, as in new zealand, sects of native dissenters more rancorous against each other than in england. the unity of the catholics is their strength, and an unmarried clergy can do as missionaries what married men never can undertake." as a sidelight on these contradictory estimates of the same work, it should be borne in mind that darwin had but recently given up the idea of becoming a clergyman, and doubtless retained some of the instinctive regard for sincere christian protestantism (whether represented by the church of england or by nonconformists), while wallace had long since relinquished all doctrinal ideas on religion and all belief in the beneficial effect produced by forms of worship on the individual. among the regions wallace visited was sarawak. of one of his sojourns here some interesting reminiscences have been sent to me by mr. l.v. helmes. he says: it was in that wallace came to sarawak. i was there then, sent by a private firm, which later became the borneo company, to open up, by mining, manufacture and trade, the resources of the country, and amongst these enterprises was coal-mining on the west. wallace came in search of new specimens of animal and especially insect life. the clearing of ancient forests at these mines offered a naturalist great opportunities, and i gave wallace an introduction to our engineer in charge there. his collections of beetles and butterflies there were phenomenal; but the district was also the special home of the great ape, the orang-utan, or meias, as the natives called them, of which he obtained so many valuable specimens. many notes must at that time have passed between us, for i took much interest in his work. we had put up a temporary hut for him at the mines, and on my occasional visits there i saw him and his young assistant, charles allen, at work, admired his beautiful collections, and gave my help in forwarding them. but it was mainly in social intercourse that we met, when wallace, in intervals of his labours, came to ku-ching, and was the rajah's guest. then occurred those interesting discussions at social gatherings to which he refers in a letter to me in , when he wrote: "i was pleased to receive your letter, with reminiscences of old times. i often recall those pleasant evenings with rajah brooke and our little circle, but since the old rajah's death i have not met any of the party." wallace was in sarawak at the happy period in the country's history. it was beginning to emerge from barbarism. the borneo company was just formed, and the seed of the country's future prosperity was sown. wallace, therefore, found us all sanguine and cheerful; yet we were on the brink of a disaster which brought many sorrows in its train. but the misfortunes of the chinese revolt had not yet cast their shadows before them. the rajah's white guests round his hospitable table; the malay chiefs and office-holders, who made evening calls from curiosity or to pay their respects; dyaks squatting in dusky groups in corners of the hall, with petitions to make or advice to seek from their white ruler--such would be the gathering of which wallace would form a part. no suspicion or foreboding would trouble the company; yet within a few months that hall would be given to the flames of an enemy's torch, and the rajah himself and many of those who formed that company would be fugitives in the jungle.... the malay archipelago, in the unregenerated days when wallace roamed the forests, and sailed the straits in native boats and canoes, was full of danger to wanderers of the white race. anarchy prevailed in many parts; usurping nobles enslaved the people in their houses; and piratical fleets scoured the sea, capturing and enslaving yearly thousands of peaceful traders, women and children. the writer was himself in besieged in a bornean river by a pirate fleet, which was eventually destroyed by a sarawak government steamer with the following result of the fight: pirates and captives were killed or drowned, and of the latter were liberated and sent to their homes; showing how formidable these pirates were. but wallace, absorbed in his scientific pursuits, minded not these dangers, nor the hardships of any kind which a roving life in untrodden jungles and feverish swamps brings. when wallace left sarawak after his fifteen months' residence in the country, he left his young assistant, charles allen, there. he entered my service, and remained some time after the formation of the borneo company. later, he again joined wallace, and then went to new guinea, doing valuable collecting and exploring work. he finally settled in singapore, where i met him in . he had married and was doing well; but died not long after my interview with him. he had come to the east with wallace as a lad of , and had been his faithful companion and assistant during years of arduous work.--l.v.h. the eight years spent by wallace in this almost unknown part of the world were times of strenuous mental and physical exertion, resulting in the gathering together of an enormous amount of matter for future scientific investigation, but counterbalanced unfortunately by more or less continuous ill-health--which at times made the effort of clear reasoning and close application to scientific pursuits extremely difficult. an indication of the unwearying application with which he went about his task is seen in the fact that during this period he collected , specimens of natural history, travelled about , miles within the archipelago, and made sixty or seventy journeys, "each involving some preparation and loss of time," so that "not more than six years were really occupied in collecting." a faint idea of this long and solitary sojourn in lonely places is given in a letter to his old friend bates, dated december th, , in which he says: "many thanks for your long and interesting letter. i have myself suffered much in the same way as you describe, and i think more severely. the kind of _tædium vitæ_ you mention i also occasionally experience here. i impute it to a too monotonous existence." and again when he begs his friend to write, as he is "half froze for news." as already stated, wallace, at no time during these wanderings, had any escort or protection, having to rely entirely upon his own tact and patience, combined with firmness, in his dealings with the natives. on one occasion he was taken ill, and had to remain six weeks with none but native papuans around him, and he became so attached to them that when saying good-bye it was with the full intention of returning amongst them at a later period. in another place he speaks of sleeping under cover of an open palm-leaf hut as calmly as under the protection of the metropolitan police! up to that time, also, he was the only englishman who had actually seen the beautiful "birds of paradise in their native forests," this success being achieved after "five voyages to different parts of the district they inhabit, each occupying in its preparation and execution the larger part of a year." and then only five species out of a possible fourteen were procured. his enthusiasm as a naturalist and collector knew no bounds, butterflies especially calling into play all his feelings of joy and satisfaction. describing his first sight of the _ornithoptera croesus_, he says that the blood rushed to his head and he felt much more like fainting than he had done when in apprehension of immediate death; a similar sensation being experienced when he came across another large bird-winged butterfly, _ornithoptera poseidon_. "it is one thing," he says, "to see such beauty in a cabinet, and quite another to feel it struggling between one's fingers, and to gaze upon its fresh and living beauty, a bright-green gem shining out amid the silent gloom of a dark and tangled forest. the village of dobbo held that evening at least one contented man." these thrills of joy may be considered as some compensation for such experiences as those contained in his graphic account of a single journey in a "prau," or native boat. "my first crew," he wrote, "ran away; two men were lost for a month on a desert island; we were ten times aground on coral reefs; we lost four anchors; our sails were devoured by rats; the small boat was lost astern; we were thirty-eight days on the voyage home which should have taken twelve; we were many times short of food and water; we had no compass-lamp owing to there not being a drop of oil in waigiou when we left; and to crown it all, during the whole of our voyage, occupying in all seventy-eight days (all in what was supposed to be the favourable season), we had not one single day of fair wind." the scientific discoveries arising out of these eight years of laborious work and physical hardship were first--with the exception of the memorable essay on natural selection--included in his books on the malay archipelago, the geographical distribution of animals, island life, and australasia, besides a number of papers contributed to various scientific journals. a bare catalogue of the places visited and explored includes sumatra, java, borneo, celebes, the moluccas, timor, new guinea, the aru and ké islands. comparing this list with that given by darwin at the close of the "journal," we find that though in some respects the ground covered by the two men was similar, it never actually overlapped. the countries and islands visited by the _beagle_ came in the following order: cape de verde islands, st. paul's rocks, fernando noronha, south america (including the galapagos archipelago, the falkland isles, and tierra del fuego), tahiti, new zealand, australia, tasmania, keeling island, maldive coral atolls, mauritius, st. helena, ascension. brazil was revisited for a short time, and the _beagle_ touched at the cape de verde islands and the azores on the homeward voyage. the very nature of this voyage did not permit darwin to give unlimited time to the study of any particular spot or locality; but his accurate observation of every detail, together with his carefully kept journal, afforded ample scope and foundation for future contemplation. to wallace, the outstanding result may be summed up in the fact that he discovered that the malay archipelago is divided into a western group of islands, which in their zoological affinities are asiatic, and an eastern, which are australian. the oriental borneo and bali are respectively divided from the australian celebes and lombok by a narrow belt of sea known as "wallace's line," on the opposite side of which the indigenous mammalia are as widely divergent as in any two parts of the world. to both men darwin's estimate of the influence of travel may aptly apply in the sense that from a geographical point of view "the map of the world ceases to be a blank ... each part assumes its proper dimensions," continents are no longer considered islands, nor islands as mere specks. wallace's homeward journey was not so eventful as the previous one had been, except for the unsuccessful efforts to bring back several species of live birds, which, with the exception of his birds of paradise, died on the way. on reaching london in the spring of , he again made his home with his married sister, mrs. sims (who was living in westbourne grove). in a large empty room at the top of the house he found himself surrounded with packing-cases which he had not seen for five or six years, and which, together with his recent collections, absorbed his time and interest for the first few weeks. later, he settled down to his literary work, and, with the exception of one or two visits to the continent and america, spent the remainder of his life in england--a life full of activity, the results of which still permeate scientific research. part i (_continued_) ii.--early letters [ -- ] of the few letters which have been preserved relating to this period, a number have already been published in "my life," and need not be reprinted here. but in some cases portions of these letters have been given because they bring out aspects of wallace's character which are not revealed elsewhere. the various omissions which have been made in other letters refer either to unimportant personal matters or to technical scientific details. the first of the letters was written during wallace's voyage to the malay archipelago. * * * * * to g. silk _steamer "bengal," red sea. march , [ ]._ my dear george,-- ... of all the eventful days of my life my first in alexandria was the most striking. imagine my feelings when, coming out of the hotel (whither i had been conveyed in an omnibus) for the purpose of taking a quiet stroll through the city, i found myself in the midst of a vast crowd of donkeys and their drivers, all thoroughly determined to appropriate my person to their own use and interest, without in the least consulting my inclinations. in vain with rapid strides and waving arms i endeavoured to clear a way and move forward; arms and legs were seized upon, and even the christian coat-tails were not sacred from the profane mahometans. one would hold together two donkeys by their tails while i was struggling between them, and another, forcing together their heads, would thus hope to compel me to mount upon one or both of them; and one fellow more impudent than the rest i laid flat upon the ground, and sending the donkey staggering after him, i escaped a moment midst hideous yells and most unearthly cries. i now beckoned to a fellow more sensible-looking than the rest, and told him that i wished to walk and would take him for a guide, and hoped now to be at rest; but vain thought! i was in the hands of the philistines, and getting us up against a wall, they formed an impenetrable phalanx of men and brutes thoroughly determined that i should only get away from the spot on the legs of a donkey. bethinking myself now that donkey-riding was a national institution, and seeing a fat yankee (very like my paris friend) mounted, being like myself hopeless of any other means of escape, i seized upon a bridle in hopes that i should then be left in peace. but this was the signal for a more furious onset, for, seeing that i would at length ride, each one was determined that he alone should profit by the transaction, and a dozen animals were forced suddenly upon me and a dozen hands tried to lift me upon their respective beasts. but now my patience was exhausted, so, keeping firm hold of the bridle i had first taken with one hand, i hit right and left with the other, and calling upon my guide to do the same, we succeeded in clearing a little space around us. now then behold your friend mounted upon a jackass in the streets of alexandria, a boy behind holding by his tail and whipping him up, charles (who had been lost sight of in the crowd) upon another, and my guide upon a third, and off we go among a crowd of jews and greeks, turks and arabs, and veiled women and yelling donkey-boys to see the city. we saw the bazaars and the slave market, where i was again nearly pulled to pieces for "backsheesh" (money), the mosques with their elegant minarets, and then the pasha's new palace, the interior of which is most gorgeous. we have seen lots of turkish soldiers walking in comfortable irregularity; and, after feeling ourselves to be dreadful guys for two hours, returned to the hotel whence we were to start for the canal boats. you may think this account is exaggerated, but it is not; the pertinacity, vigour and screams of the alexandrian donkey-drivers no description can do justice to....--yours sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his mother _singapore, april , _. my dear mother,--we arrived here safe on the th of this month, having had very fine weather all the voyage. on shore i was obliged to go to a hotel, which was very expensive, so i tried to get out into the country as soon as i could, which, however, i did not manage in less than a week, when i at last got permission to stay with a french roman catholic missionary who lives about eight miles out of the town and close to the jungle. the greater part of the inhabitants of singapore are chinese, many of whom are very rich, and all the villages about are almost entirely of chinese, who cultivate pepper and gambir. some of the english merchants here have splendid country houses. i dined with one to whom i brought an introduction. his house was most elegant, and full of magnificent chinese and japanese furniture. we are now at the mission of bukit tima. the missionary speaks english, malay and chinese, as well as french, and is a very pleasant man. he has built a very pretty church here, and has about chinese converts. having only been here four days, i cannot tell much about my collections yet. insects, however, are plentiful.... charles gets on pretty well in health, and catches a few insects; but he is very untidy, as you may imagine by his clothes being all torn to pieces by the time we arrived here. he will no doubt improve and will soon be useful. malay is the universal language, in which all business is carried on. it is easy, and i am beginning to pick up a little, but when we go to malacca shall learn it most, as there they speak nothing else. i am very unfortunate with my watch. i dropped it on board and broke the balance-spring, and have now sent it home to mr. matthews to repair, as i cannot trust anyone here to do it.... love to fanny and thomas,--i remain your affectionate son, alfred b. wallace. * * * * * to his mother _bukit tama, singapore. may , ._ my dear mother,--i send you a few lines through g. silk as i thought you would like to hear from me. i am very comfortable here living with a roman catholic missionary.... i send by this mail a small box of insects for mr. stevens--i think a very valuable one--and i hope it will go safely. i expected a letter from you by the last mail, but received only two _athenoeums_ of march and .... the forest here is very similar to that of south america. palms are very numerous, but they are generally small and horridly spiny. there are none of the large and majestic species so abundant on the amazon. i am so busy with insects now that i have no time for anything else, i send now about a thousand beetles to mr. stevens, and i have as many other insects still on hand which will form part of my next and principal consignment. singapore is very rich in beetles, and before i leave i think i shall have a most beautiful collection. [illustration: a.r. wallace's mother] i will tell you how my day is now occupied. get up at half-past five. bath and coffee. sit down to arrange and put away my insects of the day before, and set them safe out to dry. charles mending nets, filling pincushions, and getting ready for the day. breakfast at eight. out to the jungle at nine. we have to walk up a steep hill to get to it, and always arrive dripping with perspiration. then we wander about till two or three, generally returning with about or beetles, some very rare and beautiful. bathe, change clothes, and sit down to kill and pin insects. charles ditto with flies, bugs and wasps; i do not trust him yet with beetles. dinner at four. then to work again till six. coffee. read. if very numerous, work at insects till eight or nine. then to bed. adieu, with love to all.--your affectionate son, alfred e. wallace. * * * * * to his mother _in the jungle near malacca. july, ._ my dear mother,--as this letter may be delayed getting to singapore i write at once, having an opportunity of sending to malacca to-morrow. we have been here a week, living in a chinese house or shed, which reminds me remarkably of my old rio negro habitation. i have now for the first time brought my "rede" into use, and find it very comfortable. we came from singapore in a small schooner with about fifty chinese, hindoos and portuguese passengers, and were two days on the voyage, with nothing but rice and curry to eat, not having made any provision, it being our first experience of these country vessels. malacca is an old dutch city, but the portuguese have left the strongest mark of their possession in the common language of the place being still theirs. i have now two portuguese servants, a cook and a hunter, and find myself thus almost brought back again to brazil by the similarity of language, the people, and the jungle life. in malacca we stayed only two days, being anxious to get into the country as soon as possible. i stayed with a roman catholic missionary; there are several here, each devoted to a particular part of the population, portuguese, chinese and wild malays of the jungle. the gentleman we were with is building a large church, of which he is architect himself, and superintends the laying of every brick and the cutting of every piece of timber. money enough could not be raised here, so he took a voyage _round the world!_ and in the united states, california, and india got subscriptions sufficient to complete it. it is a curious and not very creditable thing that in the english colonies of singapore and malacca there is not a single protestant missionary; while the conversion, education and physical and moral improvement of the inhabitants (non-european) is entirely left to these french missionaries, who without the slightest assistance from our government devote their lives to the christianising and civilising of the varied populations which we rule over. here the birds are abundant and most beautiful, more so than on the amazon, and i think i shall soon form a most beautiful collection. they are, however, almost all common, and so are of little value except that i hope they will be better specimens than usually come to england. my guns are both very good, but i find powder and shot in singapore cheaper than in london, so i need not have troubled myself to take any. so far both i and charles have enjoyed excellent health. he can now shoot pretty well, and is so fond of it that i can hardly get him to do anything else. he will soon be very useful, if i can cure him of his incorrigible carelessness. at present i cannot trust him to do the smallest thing without watching that he does it properly, so that i might generally as well do it myself. i shall remain here probably two months, and then return to singapore to prepare for a voyage to cambodia or somewhere else, so do not be alarmed if you do not hear from me regularly. love to all.--your affectionate son, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his mother _singapore. september , ._ my dear mother,--i last wrote to you from malacca in july. i have now just returned to singapore after two months' hard work. at malacca i had a pretty strong touch of fever with the old rio negro symptoms, but the government doctor made me take a great quantity of quinine every day for a week together and so killed it, and in less than a fortnight i was quite well and off to the jungle again. i see now how to treat the fever, and shall commence at once when the symptoms again appear. i never took half enough quinine in america to cure me. malacca is a pretty place, and i worked very hard. insects are not very abundant there, still by perseverance i got a good number and many rare ones. of birds, too, i made a good collection. i went to the celebrated mount ophir and ascended to the top. the walk was terrible--thirty miles through jungle, a succession of mud holes. my boots did good service. we lived there a week at the foot of the mountain, in a little hut built by our men, and i got some fine new butterflies there and hundreds of other new and rare insects. we had only rice and a little fish and tea, but came home quite well. the height of the mountain is about , feet.... elephants and rhinoceroses, as well as tigers, are abundant there, but we had our usual bad luck in not seeing any of them. on returning to malacca i found the accumulations of two or three posts, a dozen letters and fifty newspapers.... i am glad to be safe in singapore with my collections, as from here they can be insured. i have now a fortnight's work to arrange, examine, and pack them, and then in four months hence there will be some work for mr. stevens. sir james brooke is here. i have called on him. he received me most cordially, and offered me every assistance at sarawak. i shall go there next, as the missionary does not go to cambodia for some months. besides, i shall have some pleasant society at sarawak, and shall get on in malay, which is very easy, but i have had no practice--though still i can ask for most common things. my books and instruments arrived in beautiful condition. they looked as if they had been packed up but a day. not so the unfortunate eatables....--i remain your affectionate son, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to g. silk _singapore. october , ._ dear g.,--to-morrow i sail for sarawak. sir j. brooke has given me a letter to his nephew, capt. brooke, to make me at home till he arrives, which may be a month, perhaps. i look forward with much interest to see what he has done and how he governs. i look forward to spending a very pleasant time at sarawak.... sir w. hooker's remarks are encouraging, but i cannot afford to collect plants. i have to work for a living, and plants would not pay unless i collect nothing else, which i cannot do, being too much interested in zoology. i should like a botanical companion like mr. spruce very much. we are anxiously expecting accounts of the taking of sebastopol. i am much obliged to latham for quoting me, and hope to see it soon. that ought to make my name a little known. i have not your talent at making acquaintances, and find singapore very dull. i have not found a single companion. i long for you to walk about with and observe the queer things in the streets of singapore. the chinamen and their ways are inexhaustibly amusing. my revolver is too heavy for daily use. i wish i had had a small one.--yours sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to an unknown correspondent[ ] _si munjon coal works, borneo. may, ._ one of the principal reasons which induced me to come here was that it is the country of those most strange and interesting animals, the orang-utans, or "mias" of the dyaks. in the sarawak district, though scarce twenty miles distant, they are quite unknown, there being some boundary line in this short space which, obeying the inexplicable laws of distribution, they never pass. the dyaks distinguish three different kinds, which are known in europe by skulls or skeletons only, much confusion still existing in their synonymy, and the external characters of the adult animals being almost or quite unknown. i have already been fortunate enough to shoot two young animals of two of the species, which were easily distinguishable from each other, and i hope by staying here some time to get adult specimens of all the species, and also to obtain much valuable information as to their habits. the jungle here is exceedingly monotonous; palms are scarce and flowers almost wanting, except some species of dwarf gingerwort. it is high on the trees that flowers are alone to be found.... oak trees are rather plentiful, as i have already found three species with red, brown, and black acorns. this is confirmatory of dr. hooker's statement that, contrary to the generally received opinion, oaks are equally characteristic of a tropical as of a temperate climate. i must make an exception to the scarcity of flowers, however, tall slender trees occurring not unfrequently, whose stems are flower-bearing. one is a magnificent object, or ft. of the stem being almost hidden by rich orange-coloured flowers, which in the gloomy forest have, as i have before remarked of tropical insects under similar circumstances, an almost magical effect of brilliancy. not less beautiful is another tree similarly clothed with spikes of pink and white berries. the only striking features of the animal world are the hornbills, which are very abundant and take the place of the toucans of brazil, though i believe they have no real affinity with them; and the immense flights of fruit-eating bats which frequently pass over us. they extend as far as the eye can reach, and continue passing for hours. by counting and estimation i calculated that at least , passed one evening while we could see them, and they continued on some time after dark. the species is probably the _pteropus edulis_; its expanded wings are near ft. across, and it flies with great ease and rapidity. fruit seems so scarce in these jungles that it is a mystery where they find enough to supply such vast multitudes. our mode of life here is very simple--rather too much so, as we have a continual struggle to get enough to eat. the sarawak market is to a great extent supplied with rice, fowls, and sweet potatoes from this river, yet i have been obliged to send to sarawak to purchase these very articles. the reason is that the dyaks are almost all in debt to the malay traders, and will therefore not sell anything, fearful of not having sufficient to satisfy their creditors. they have now just got in their rice harvest, and though it is not a very abundant one there is no immediate pressure of hunger to induce them to earn anything by hunting or snaring birds, etc. this also prevents them from being very industrious in seeking for the "mias," though i have offered a high price for full-grown animals. the old men here relate with pride how many heads they have taken in their youth, and though they all acknowledge the goodness of the present rajah's government, yet they think that if they could still take a few heads they would have better harvests. the more i see of uncivilised people, the better i think of human nature on the whole, and the essential differences between so-called civilised and savage man seem to disappear. here are we, two europeans surrounded by a population of chinese, malays, and dyaks. the chinese are generally considered, and with some truth, to be thieves, liars, and careless of human life, and these chinese are coolies of the very lowest and least educated class. the malays are invariably characterised as treacherous and bloodthirsty, and the dyaks have only recently ceased to think head-taking an absolute necessity. we are two days' journey from sarawak, where, though the government is european, yet it only exists by the consent and support of the native population. now i can safely say that in any part of europe, if the same facilities for crime and disturbance existed, things would not go on so smoothly as they do here. we sleep with open doors and go about constantly unarmed; one or two petty robberies and a little private fighting have taken place among the chinese, but the great proportion of them are quiet, honest, decent sort of men. they did not at first like the strictness and punctuality with which the english manager kept them to their work, and two or three ringleaders tried to get up a strike for short hours and higher wages, but mr. g.'s energy and decision soon stopped this by sending off the ringleaders at once, and summoning all the dyaks and malays in the neighbourhood to his assistance in case of any resistance being attempted. it was very gratifying to see how rapidly they came up at his summons, and this display of power did much good, for since then everything has gone on smoothly. preparations are now making for building a "joss house," a sure sign that the chinese have settled to the work, and giving every promise of success in an undertaking which must have a vast influence on the progress of commerce and civilisation of borneo and the surrounding countries. india, australia, and every country with which they have communication must also be incalculably benefited by an abundant supply of good coal within two days' steam of singapore. let us wish success, then, to the si munjon coal works!--a.r.w. * * * * * to his sister, mrs. sims _sadong river borneo]. june , ._ my dear fanny,-- ... i am now obliged to keep fowls and pigs, or we should get nothing to eat. i have three pigs now and a china boy to attend to them, who also assists in skinning "orang-utans," which he and charles are doing at this moment. i have also planted some onions and pumpkins, which were above ground in three days and are growing vigorously. i have been practising salting pork, and find i can make excellent pickled pork here, which i thought was impossible, as everyone i have seen try has failed. it is because they leave it to servants, who will not take the necessary trouble. i do it myself. i shall therefore always keep pigs in the future. i find there will not be time for another box round the cape, so must have a small parcel overland. i should much like my _lasts_, but nothing else, unless some canvas shoes are made. if the young man my mother and mr. stevens mentioned comes, he can bring them. i shall write to mr. stevens about the terms on which i can take him. i am, however, rather shy about it, having hitherto had no one to suit me. as you seem to know him, i suppose he comes to see you sometimes. let me know what you think of him. do not tell me merely that he is "a very nice young man." of course he is. so is charles a very nice boy, but i could not be troubled with another like him for any consideration whatever. i have written to mr. stevens to let me know his character, as regards _neatness_ and _perseverance_ in doing anything he is set about. from you i should like to know whether he is quiet or boisterous, forward or shy, talkative or silent, sensible or frivolous, delicate or strong. ask him whether he can live on rice and salt fish for a week on an occasion--whether he can do without wine or beer, and sometimes without tea, coffee or sugar--whether he can sleep on a board--whether he likes the hottest weather in england--whether he is too delicate to skin a stinking animal--whether he can walk twenty miles a day--whether he can work, for there is sometimes as hard work in collecting as in anything. can he draw (not copy)? can he speak french? does he write a good hand? can he make anything? can he saw a piece of board straight? (charles cannot, and every bit of carpenter work i have to do myself.) ask him to make you anything--a little card box, a wooden peg or bottle-stopper, and see if he makes them neat, straight and square. charles never does anything the one or the other. charles has now been with me more than a year, and every day some such conversation as this ensues: "charles, look at these butterflies that you set out yesterday." "yes, sir." "look at that one--is it set out evenly?" "no, sir." "put it right then, and all the others that want it." in five minutes he brings me the box to look at. "have you put them all right?" "yes, sir." "there's one with the wings uneven, there's another with the body on one side, then another with the pin crooked. put them all right this time." it most frequently happens that they have to go back a third time. then all is right. if he puts up a bird, the head is on one side, there is a great lump of cotton on one side of the neck like a wen, the feet are twisted soles uppermost, or something else. in everything it is the same, what ought to be straight is always put crooked. this after twelve months' constant practice and constant teaching! and not the slightest sign of improvement. i believe he never will improve. day after day i have to look over everything he does and tell him of the same faults. another with a similar incapacity would drive me mad. he never, too, by any chance, puts anything away after him. when done with, everything is thrown on the floor. every other day an hour is lost looking for knife, scissors, pliers, hammer, pins, or something he has mislaid. yet out of doors he does very well--he collects insects well, and if i could get a neat, orderly person in the house i would keep him almost entirely at out-of-door work and at skinning, which he does also well, but cannot put into shape....--your affectionate brother, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his mother _sarawak. christmas day, ._ my dear mother,--you will see i am spending a second christmas day with the rajah.... i have lived a month with the dyaks and have been a journey about sixty miles into the interior. i have been very much pleased with the dyaks. they are a very kind, simple and hospitable people, and i do not wonder at the great interest sir j. brooke takes in them. they are more communicative and lively than the american indians, and it is therefore more agreeable to live with them. in moral character they are far superior to either malays or chinese, for though head-taking has been a custom among them it is only as a trophy of war. in their own villages crimes are very rare. ever since sir j. has been here, more than twelve years, in a large population there has been but one case of murder in a dyak tribe, and that one was committed by a stranger who had been adopted into the tribe. one wet day i got a piece of string to show them how to play "scratch cradle," and was quite astonished to find that they knew it better than i did and could make all sorts of new figures i had never seen. they were also very clever with tricks with string on their fingers, which seemed to be a favourite amusement. many of the distant tribes think the rajah cannot be a man. they ask all sorts of curious questions about him, whether he is not as old as the mountains, whether he cannot bring the dead to life, and i have no doubt for many years after his death he will be looked upon as a deity and expected to come back again. i have now seen a good deal of sir james, and the more i see of him the more i admire him. with the highest talents for government he combines the greatest goodness of heart and gentleness of manner. at the same time he has such confidence and determination, that he has put down with the greatest ease some conspiracies of one or two malay chiefs against him. it is a unique case in the history of the world, for a european gentleman to rule over two conflicting races of semi-savages with their own consent, without any means of coercion, and depending solely upon them for protection and support, and at the same time to introduce the benefits of civilisation and check all crime and semi-barbarous practices. under his government, "running amuck," so frequent in all other malay countries, has never taken place, and with a population of , malays, all of whom carry their "creese" and revenge an insult by a stab, murders do not occur more than once in five or six years. the people are never taxed but with their own consent, and sir j.'s private fortune has been spent in the government and improvement of the country; yet this is the man who has been accused of injuring other parties for his own private interests, and of wholesale murder and butchery to secure his government!...--your ever affectionate son, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his sister, mrs. sims _singapore.. february , ._ my dear fanny,-- ... i have now left sarawak, where i began to feel quite at home, and may perhaps never return to it again; but i shall always look back with pleasure to my residence there and to my acquaintance with sir james brooke, who is a gentleman and a nobleman in the noblest sense of both words.... charles has left me. he has stayed with the bishop of sarawak, who wants teachers and is going to try to educate him for one. i offered to take him on with me, paying him a fair price for all the insects, etc., he collected, but he preferred to stay. i hardly know whether to be glad or sorry he has left. it saves me a great deal of trouble and annoyance, and i feel it quite a relief to be without him. on the other hand, it is a considerable loss for me, as he had just begun to be valuable in collecting. i must now try and teach a china boy to collect and pin insects. my collections in borneo have been very good, but some of them will, i fear, be injured by the long voyages of the ships. i have collected upwards of , insects, besides birds, shells, quadrupeds, and plants. the day i arrived here a vessel sailed for macassar, and i fear i shall not have another chance for two months unless i go a roundabout way, and perhaps not then, so i have hardly made up my mind what to do,--your affectionate brother, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his brother-in-law, thomas sims _singapore. [probably about march, .]_ dear thomas,-- ... you and fanny talk of my coming back for a trifling sore as if i was within an omnibus ride of conduit st. i am now perfectly well, and only waiting to go eastward. the far east is to me what the far west is to the americans. they both meet in california, where i hope to arrive some day. i quite enjoy being a few days at singapore now. the scene is at once so familiar and strange. the half-naked chinese coolies, the neat shopkeepers, the clean, fat, old, long-tailed merchants, all as busy and full of business as any londoners. then the handsome klings, who always ask double what they take, and with whom it is most amusing to bargain. the crowd of boatmen at the ferry, a dozer begging and disputing for a farthing fare, the americans, the malays, and the portuguese make up a scene doubly interesting to me now that i know something about them and can talk to them in the general language of the place. the streets of singapore on a fine day are as crowded and busy as tottenham court road, and from the variety of nations and occupations far more interesting. i am more convinced than ever that no one can appreciate a new country in a short visit. after two years in the country i only now begin to understand singapore and to marvel at the life and bustle, the varied occupations, and strange population, on a spot which so short a time ago was an uninhabited jungle....--yours affectionately, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his sister, mrs. sims _singapore. april , ._ my dear fanny,--i believe i wrote to you last mail, and have now little to say except that i am still a prisoner in singapore and unable to get away to my land of promise, macassar, with whose celebrated oil you are doubtless acquainted. i have been spending three weeks with my old friend the french missionary, going daily into the jungle, and fasting on fridays on omelet and vegetables, a most wholesome custom which i think the protestants were wrong to leave off. i have been reading huc's travels in china in french, and talking with a french missionary just arrived from tonquin. i have thus obtained a great deal of information about these countries and about the extent of the catholic missions in them, which is astonishing. how is it that they do their work so much more thoroughly than the protestant missionaries? in cochin china, tonquin, and china, where all christian missionaries are obliged to live in secret and are subject to persecution, expulsion, and often death, yet every province, even those farthest in the interior of china, have their regular establishment of missionaries constantly kept up by fresh supplies who are taught the languages of the countries they are going to at penang or singapore. in china there are near a million catholics, in tonquin and cochin china more than half a million! one secret of their success is the cheapness of their establishments. a missionary is allowed about £ a year, on which he lives, in whatever country he may be. this has two good effects. a large number of missionaries can be employed with limited funds, and the people of the countries in which they reside, seeing they live in poverty and with none of the luxuries of life, are convinced they are sincere. most are frenchmen, and those i have seen or heard of are well-educated men, who give up their lives to the good of the people they live among. no wonder they make converts, among the lower orders principally. for it must be a great comfort to these poor people to have a man among them to whom they can go in any trouble or distress, whose sole object is to comfort and advise them, who visits them in sickness, who relieves them in want, and whom they see living in daily danger of persecution and death only for their benefit. you will think they have converted me, but in point of doctrine i think catholics and protestants are equally wrong. as missionaries i think catholics are best, and i would gladly see none others, rather than have, as in new zealand, sects of native dissenters more rancorous against each other than in england. the unity of the catholics is their strength, and an unmarried clergy can do as missionaries what married men can never undertake. i have written on this subject because i have nothing else to write about. love to thomas and edward.--believe me, dear fanny, your ever affectionate brother, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his sister, mrs. sims _macassar. december , ._ my dear fanny,--i have received yours of september, and my mother's of october, and as i am now going out of reach of letters for six months i must send you a few lines to let you know that i am well and in good spirits, though rather disappointed with the celebrated macassar.... for the last fortnight, since i came in from the country, i have been living here rather luxuriously, getting good rich cow's milk to my tea and coffee, very good bread and excellent dutch butter ( s. a lb.). the bread here is raised with toddy just as it is fermenting, and it imparts a peculiar sweet taste to the bread which is very nice. at last, too, there is some fruit here. the mangoes have just come in, and they are certainly magnificent. the flavour is something between a peach and a melon, with the slightest possible flavour of turpentine, and very juicy. they say they are unwholesome, and it is a good thing for me i am going away now. when i come back there will be not one to be had....--i remain, dear fanny, your ever affectionate brother, a.r. wallace. * * * * * h.w. bates to a.r. wallace _tunantins, upper amazon. november , ._ dear wallace,-- ... i received about six months ago a copy of your paper in the _annals_ on "the laws which have governed the introduction of new species." i was startled at first to see you already ripe for the enunciation of the theory. you can imagine with what interest i read and studied it, and i must say that it is perfectly well done. the idea is like truth itself, so simple and obvious that those who read and understand it will be struck by its simplicity; and yet it is perfectly original. the reasoning is close and clear, and although so brief an essay, it is quite complete, embraces the whole difficulty, and anticipates and annihilates all objections. few men will be in a condition to comprehend and appreciate the paper, but it will infallibly create for you a high and sound reputation. the theory i quite assent to, and, you know, was conceived by me also, but i profess that i could not have propounded it with so much force and completeness. many details i could supply, in fact a great deal remains to be done to illustrate and confirm the theory: a new method of investigating and propounding zoology and botany inductively is necessitated, and new libraries will have to be written; in part of this task i hope to be a labourer for many happy and profitable years. what a noble subject would be that of a monograph of a group of beings peculiar to one region but offering different species in each province of it--tracing the laws which connect together the modifications of forms and colour with the _local_ circumstances of a province or station--tracing as far as possible the actual _affiliation_ of the species. two of such groups occur to me at once, in entomology, in heliconiidæ and erotylidæ of south america; the latter i think more interesting than the former for one reason--the species are more local, having feebler means of locomotion than the heliconiidæ....--yours very truly, henry walter bates. * * * * * to h.w. bates _amboyna. january , ._ my dear bates,--my delay of six months in answering your very interesting and most acceptable letter dated an ideal absurdity put forth when such a simple hypothesis will explain _all the facts_. i have been much gratified by a letter from darwin, in which he says that he agrees with "almost every word" of my paper. he is now preparing for publication his great work on species and varieties, for which he has been collecting information twenty years. he may save me the trouble of writing the second part of my hypothesis by proving that there is no difference in nature between the origin of species and varieties, or he may give me trouble by arriving at another conclusion, but at all events his facts will be given for me to work upon. your collections and my own will furnish most valuable material to illustrate and prove the universal applicability of the hypothesis. the connection between the succession of affinities and the geographical distribution of a group, worked out species by species, has never yet been shown as we shall be able to show it. in this archipelago there are two distinct faunas rigidly circumscribed, which differ as much as those of south america and africa, and more than those of europe and north america: yet there is nothing on the map or on the face of the islands to mark their limits. the boundary line often passes between islands closer than others in the same group. i believe the western part to be a separated portion of continental asia, the eastern the fragmentary prolongation of a former pacific continent. in mammalia and birds the distinction is marked by genera, families, and even orders confined to one region; in _insects_ by a number of genera and little groups of peculiar species, the _families_ of insects having generally a universal distribution. * * * * * _ternate, january , ._ i have not done much here yet, having been much occupied in getting a house repaired and put in order. this island is a volcano with a sloping spur on which the town is situated. about ten miles to the east is the coast of the large island of gilolo, perhaps the most perfect entomological _terra incognita_ now to be found. i am not aware that a single insect has ever been collected there, and cannot find it given as the locality of any insects in my catalogues or descriptions. in about a week i go for a month collecting there, and then return to prepare for a voyage to new guinea. i think i shall stay in this place two or three years, as it is the centre of a most interesting and almost unknown region. every house here was destroyed in by an earthquake during an eruption of the volcano.... what great political events have passed since we left england together! and the most eventful for england, and perhaps the most glorious, is the present mutiny in india, which has proved british courage and pluck as much as did the famed battles of balaclava and inker-man. i believe that both india and england will gain in the end by the fearful ordeal. when do you mean returning for good? if you go to the andes you will, i think, be disappointed, at least in the number of species, especially of coleoptera. my experience here is that the low grounds are much the most productive, though the mountains generally produce a few striking and brilliant species....--yours sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to f. bates _ternate. march , ._ my dear mr. bates,--when i received your very acceptable letter (a month ago) i had just written one to your brother, which i thought i could not do better than send to you to forward to him, as i shall thereby be able to confine myself solely to the group you are studying and to other matters touched upon in your letter. i had heard from mr. stevens some time ago that you had begun collecting exotic geodephaga, but were confining yourself to one or two illustrations of each genus. i was sure, however, that you would soon find this unsatisfactory. nature must be studied in detail, and it is the wonderful variety of the species of a group, their complicated relations and their endless modification of form, size and colours, which constitute the pre-eminent charm of the entomologist's study. it is with the greatest satisfaction, too, i hail your accession to the very limited number of collectors and students of exotic insects, and sincerely hope you may be sufficiently favoured by fortune to enable you to form an extensive collection and to devote the necessary time to its study and ultimately to the preparation of a complete and useful work. though i cannot but be pleased that you are able to do so, i am certainly surprised to find that you indulge in the expensive luxury of from three to seven specimens of a species. i should have thought that in such a very extensive group you would have found one or, at most, a pair quite sufficient. i fancy very few collectors of exotic insects do more than this, except where they can obtain additional specimens by gift or by exchange. your remarks on my collections are very interesting to me, especially as i have kept descriptions with many outline figures of my malacca and sarawak geodephaga, so that with one or two exceptions i can recognise and perfectly remember every species you mention.... now with regard to your request for notes of habits, etc. i shall be most willing to comply with it to some extent, first informing you that i look forward to undertaking on my return to england a "coleoptera malayana," to contain descriptions of the known species of the whole archipelago, with an essay on their geographical distribution, and an account of the habits of the genera and species from my own observations. of course, therefore, i do not wish any part of my notes to be published, as this will be a distinctive feature of the work, so little being known of the habits, stations and modes of collecting exotic coleoptera, ... you appear to consider the state of entomological literature flourishing and satisfactory: to _me_ it seems quite the contrary. the number of unfinished works and of others with false titles is disgraceful to science.... i think ... on the whole we may say that the archipelago is _very rich_, and will bear a comparison even with the richest part of south america. in the country between ega and peru there is work for fifty collectors for fifty years. there are hundreds and thousands of andean valleys every one of which would bear exploring. here it is the same with islands. i could spend twenty years here were life long enough, but feel i cannot stand it, away from home and books and collections and comforts, more than four or five, and then i shall have work to do for the rest of my life. what would be the use of accumulating materials which one could not have time to work up? i trust your brother may give us a grand and complete work on the coleoptera of the amazon valley, if not of all south america....--yours faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his mother _october , ._ my dear mother,-- ... i have just returned from a short trip, and am now about to start on a longer one, but to a place where there are some soldiers, a doctor and engineer who speak english, so if it is good for collecting i shall stay there some months. it is batchian, an island on the south-west side of gilolo, about three or four days' sail from ternate. i am now quite recovered from my new guinea voyage and am in good health. i have received letters from mr. darwin and dr. hooker, two of the most eminent naturalists in england, which has highly gratified me. i sent mr. darwin an essay on a subject on which he is now writing a great work. he showed it to dr. hooker and sir c. lyell, who thought so highly of it that they immediately read it before the linnean society. this assures me the acquaintance and assistance of these eminent men on my return home. mr. stevens also tells me of the great success of the aru collection, of which £ , worth has actually been sold. this makes me hope i may soon realise enough to live upon and carry out my long cherished plans of a country life in old england. if i had sent the large and handsome shells from aru, which are what you expected to see, they would not have paid expenses, whereas the cigar box of small ones has sold for £ . you must not think i shall always do so well as at aru; perhaps never again, because no other collections will have the novelty, all the neighbouring countries producing birds and insects very similar, and many even the very same. still, if i have health i fear not to do very well. i feel little inclined now to go to california; as soon as i have finished my exploration of this region i shall be glad to return home as quickly and cheaply as possible. it will certainly be by way of the cape or by second class overland. may i meet you, dear old mother, and all my other relatives and friends, in good health. perhaps john and his trio will have had the start of me.... * * * * * to h.w. bates _ceram, november , ._ dear bates,--allow me to congratulate you on your safe arrival home with all your treasures; a good fortune which i trust is this time[ ] reserved for me. i hope you will write to me and tell me your projects. stevens hinted at your undertaking a "fauna of the amazon valley." it would be a noble work, but one requiring years of labour, as of course you would wish to incorporate all existing materials and would have to spend months in berlin and milan and paris to study the collections of spix, natterer, oscolati, castituan and others, as well as most of the chief private collections of europe. i hope you may undertake it and bring it to a glorious conclusion. i have long been contemplating such a work for this archipelago, but am convinced that the plan must be very limited to be capable of completion....--i remain, dear bates, yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to h.w. bates _ternate. december , ._ dear bates,--many thanks for your long and interesting letter. i have myself suffered much in the same way as you describe, and i think more severely. the kind of _tædium vitæ_ you mention i also occasionally experience here. i impute it to a too monotonous existence. i know not how or to whom to express fully my admiration of darwin's book. to him it would seem flattery, to others self-praise; but i do honestly believe that with however much patience i had worked up and experimented on the subject, i could never have _approached_ the completeness of his book--its vast accumulation of evidence, its overwhelming argument, and its admirable tone and spirit. i really feel thankful that it has not been left to me to give the theory to the public. mr. darwin has created a new science and a new philosophy, and i believe that never has such a complete illustration of a new branch of human knowledge been due to the labours and researches of a single man. never have such vast masses of widely scattered and hitherto utterly disconnected facts been combined into a system, and brought to bear upon the establishment of such a grand and new and simple philosophy!...--in haste, yours faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his brother-in-law, thomas sims _delli, timor. march , _[ ] my dear thomas,--i will now try and write you a few lines in reply to your last three letters, which i have not before had time and inclination to do. first, about your _one-eyed_ and _two-eyed_ theory of art, etc. etc. i do not altogether agree with you. we do not see _all objects_ wider with two eyes than with one. a spherical or curved object we do see so, because our right and left eye each see a portion of the surface not seen by the other, but for that very reason the portion seen perfectly with both eyes is _less_ than with one. thus [_see_ diagram on next page] we only see from a to a with both our eyes, the two side portions ab ab being seen with but one eye, and therefore (when we are using both eyes) being seen obscurely. but if we look at a flat object, whether square or oblique to the line of vision, we see it of exactly the same size with two eyes as with one because the one eye can see no part of it that the other does not see also. but in painting i believe that this difference of proportion, where it does exist, is far too small to be _given_ by any artist and also too small to affect the picture if given. [illustration] again, i entirely deny that by _any means_ the exact effect of a landscape with objects at various distances from the eye can be given on a fiat surface; and moreover that the monocular clear outlined view is quite as true and good on the whole as the binocular hazy outlined view, and for this reason: we cannot and do not see clearly or look at two objects at once, if at different distances from us. in a real view our eyes are directed successively at every object, which we then see clearly and with distinct outlines, everything else--nearer and farther--being indistinct; but being able to change the focal angle of our two eyes and their angle of direction with great rapidity, we are enabled to glance rapidly at each object in succession and thus obtain a general and detailed view of the whole. a house, a tree, a spire, the leaves of a shrub in the foreground, are each seen (while we direct our eyes to them) with perfect definition and sharpness of outline. now a monocular photo gives the clearness of outline and accuracy of definition, and thus represents every individual part of a landscape just as we see it when looking at that part. now i maintain that this is _right_, because no painting can represent an object both distinct and indistinct. the only question is, shall a painting show us objects as we see them when looking at them, or as we see them when looking at _something else_ near them? the only approach painters can make to this varying effect of binocular vision, and what they often do, is to give the most important and main feature of their painting _distinct_ as we should see it when looking at it in nature, while all around has a subdued tone and haziness of outline like that produced by seeing the real objects when our vision is not absolutely directed to them. but then if, as in nature, when you turn your gaze to one of these objects in order to see it clearly, you cannot do so, this is a defect. again, i believe that we actually see in a good photograph better than in nature, because the best camera lenses are more perfectly adjusted than our eyes, and give objects at varying distances with better definition. thus in a picture we see at the same time near and distinct objects easily and clearly, which in reality we cannot do. if we could do so, everyone must acknowledge that our vision would be so much the more perfect and our appreciation of the beauties of nature more intense and complete; and in so far as a good landscape painting gives us this power it is better than nature itself; and i think this may account for that excessive and entrancing beauty of a good landscape or of a good panorama. you will think these ideas horribly heterodox, but if we all thought alike there would be nothing to write about and nothing to learn. i quite agree with you, however, as to artists using both eyes to paint and to see their paintings, but i think you quite mistake the theory of looking through the "catalogue"; it is not because the picture can be seen better with one eye, but because its effect can be better seen when all lateral objects are hidden--the catalogue does this. a double tube would be better, but that cannot be extemporised so easily. have you ever tried a stereograph taken with the camera only the distance apart of the eyes? that must give _nature_. when the angle is greater the views in the stereoscope show us, not nature, but a perfect reduced model of nature seen nearer the eye. it is curious that you should put turner and the pre-raphaelites as _opposed_ and representing _binocular_ and _monocular_ painting when turner himself praises up the pre-raphaelites and calls holman hunt the greatest living painter!!... now for mr. darwin's book. you quite misunderstand mr. d.'s statement in the preface and his sentiments. i have, of course, been in correspondence with him since i first sent him my little essay. his conduct has been most liberal and disinterested. i think anyone who reads the linnean society papers and his book will see it. i _do_ back him up in his whole round of conclusions and look upon him as the _newton of natural history_. you begin by criticising the _title_. now, though i consider the title admirable, i believe it is not mr. darwin's but the publisher's, as you are no doubt aware that publishers _will_ have a taking title, and authors must and do give way to them. mr. d. gave me a different title before the book came out. again, you misquote and misunderstand huxley, who is a complete convert. prof. asa gray and dr. hooker, the two first botanists of europe and america, are converts. and lyell, the first geologist living, who has all his life written against such conclusions as darwin arrives at, is a convert and is about to declare or already has declared his conversion--a noble and almost unique example of a man yielding to conviction on a subject which he has taught as a master all his life, and confessing that he has all his life been wrong. it is clear that you have not yet sufficiently read the book to enable you to criticise it. it is a book in which every page and almost every line has a bearing on the main argument, and it is very difficult to bear in mind such a variety of facts, arguments and indications as are brought forward. it was only on the _fifth_ perusal that i fully appreciated the whole strength of the work, and as i had been long before familiar with the same subjects i cannot but think that persons less familiar with them cannot have any clear idea of the accumulated argument by a single perusal. your objections, so far as i can see anything definite in them, are so fully and clearly anticipated and answered in the book itself that it is perfectly useless my saying anything about them. it seems to me, however, as clear as daylight that the principle of natural selection _must_ act in nature. it is almost as necessary a truth as any of mathematics. next, the effects produced by this action _cannot be limited._ it cannot be shown that there _is_ any limit to them in nature. again, the millions of facts in the numerical relations of organic beings, their geographical distribution, their relations of affinity, the modification of their parts and organs, the phenomena of intercrossing, embryology and morphology--all are in accordance with his theory, and almost all are necessary results from it; while on the other theory they are all isolated facts having no connection with each other and as utterly inexplicable and confusing as fossils are on the theory that they are special creations and are not the remains of animals that have once lived. it is the vast _chaos_ of facts, which are explicable and fall into beautiful order on the one theory, which are inexplicable and remain a chaos on the other, which i think must ultimately force darwin's views on any and every reflecting mind. isolated difficulties and objections are nothing against this vast cumulative argument. the human mind cannot go on for ever accumulating facts which remain unconnected and without any mutual bearing and bound together by no law. the evidence for the production of the organic world by the simple laws of inheritance is exactly of the same nature as that for the production of the present surface of the earth--hills and valleys, plains, rocks, strata, volcanoes, and all their fossil remains--by the slow and natural action of natural causes now in operation. the mind that will ultimately reject darwin must (to be consistent) reject lyell also. the same arguments of apparent stability which are thought to disprove that organic species can change will also disprove any change in the inorganic world, and you must believe with your forefathers that each hill and each river, each inland lake and continent, were created as they stand, with their various strata and their various fossils--all appearances and arguments to the contrary notwithstanding. i can only recommend you to read again darwin's account of the horse family and its comparison with pigeons; and if that does not convince and stagger you, then you are unconvertible. i do not expect mr. darwin's larger work will add anything to the general strength of his argument. it will consist chiefly of the details (often numerical) and experiments and calculations of which he has already given the summaries and results. it will therefore be more confusing and less interesting to the general reader. it will prove to scientific men the accuracy of his details, and point out the sources of his information, but as not one in a thousand readers will ever test these details and references the smaller work will remain for general purposes the best.... i see that the great exhibition for seems determined on. if so it will be a great inducement to me to cut short the period of my banishment and get home in time to see it. i assure you i now feel at times very great longings for the peace and quiet of home--very much weariness of this troublesome, wearisome, wandering life. i have lost some of that elasticity and freshness which made the overcoming of difficulties a pleasure, and the country and people are now too familiar to me to retain any of the charms of novelty which gild over so much that is really monotonous and disagreeable. my health, too, gives way, and i cannot now put up so well with fatigue and privations as at first. all these causes will induce me to come home as soon as possible, and i think i may promise, if no accident happens, to come back to dear and beautiful england in the summer of next year. c. allen will stay a year longer and complete the work which i shall not be able to do. i have been pretty comfortable here, having for two months had the society of mr. geach, a cornish mining engineer who has been looking for copper here. he is a very intelligent and pleasant fellow, but has now left. another englishman, capt. hart, is a resident here. he has a little house on the foot of the hills two miles out of town; i have a cottage (which was mr. geach's) a quarter of a mile farther. he is what you may call a _speculative_ man: he reads a good deal, knows a little and wants to know more, and is fond of speculating on the most abstruse and unattainable points of science and philosophy. you would be astonished at the number of men among the captains and traders of these parts who have more than an average amount of literary and scientific taste; whereas among the naval and military officers and various government officials very few have any such taste, but find their only amusements in card-playing and dissipation. some of the most intelligent and best informed dutchmen i have met with are trading captains and merchants. this country much resembles australia in its physical features, and is very barren compared with most of the other islands.... it is very rugged and mountainous, having no true forests, but a scanty vegetation of gum trees with a few thickets in moist places. it is consequently very poor in insects, and in fact will hardly pay my expenses; but having once come here i may as well give it a fair trial. birds are tolerably abundant, but with few exceptions very dull coloured. i really believe the whole series of birds of the tropical island of timor are less beautiful and bright-coloured than those of great britain. in the mountains potatoes, cabbages and wheat are grown in abundance, and so we get excellent pure bread made by chinamen in delli. fowls, sheep, pigs and onions are also always to be had, so that it is the easiest country to live in i have yet met with, as in most other places one is always doubtful whether a dinner can be obtained. i have been a trip to the hills and stayed ten days in the clouds, but it was very wet, being the wrong season.... having now paid you off my literary debts, i trust you will give me credit again for some long letters on things in general. address now to care of hamilton, gray and co., singapore, and with love and remembrances to all friends, i remain, my dear thomas, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.-- ... will you, next time you visit my mother, make me a little plan of her cottage, showing the rooms and their dimensions, so that i may see if there will be room enough for me on my return? i shall want a good-sized room for my collections, and when i can decide exactly on my return it would be as well to get a little larger house beforehand if necessary. please do not forget this.--yours, a.r.w. p.s.--write by next mail, as circumstances have occurred which make it possible i may return home this year.--a.r.w. p.s.--you allude in your last letter to a subject i never touch upon because i know we cannot agree upon it. however, i will now say a few words, that you may know my opinions, and if you wish to convert me to your way of thinking, take more vigorous measures to effect it. you intimate that the happiness to be enjoyed in a future state will depend upon, and be a reward for, our belief in certain doctrines which you believe to constitute the essence of true religion. you must think, therefore, that belief is _voluntary_ and also that it is _meritorious_. but i think that a little consideration will show you that belief is quite independent of our will, and our common expressions show it. we say, "i wish i could believe him innocent, but the evidence is too clear "; or, "whatever people may say, i can never believe he can do such a mean action." now, suppose in any similar case the evidence on both sides leads you to a certain belief or disbelief, and then a reward is offered you for changing your opinion. can you really change your opinion and belief, for the hope of reward or the fear of punishment? will you not say, "as the matter stands i can't change my belief. you must give me proofs that i am wrong or show that the evidence i have heard is false, and then i may change my belief "? it may be that you do get more and do change your belief. but this change is not voluntary on your part. it depends upon the force of evidence upon your individual mind, and the evidence remaining the same and your mental faculties remaining unimpaired--you cannot believe otherwise any more than you can fly. belief, then, is not voluntary. how, then, can it be meritorious? when a jury try a case, all hear the same evidence, but nine say "guilty" and three "not guilty," according to the honest belief of each. are either of these more worthy of reward on that account than the others? certainly you will say no! but suppose beforehand they all know or suspect that those who say "not guilty" will be punished and the rest rewarded: what is likely to be the result? why, perhaps six will say "guilty" honestly believing it, and glad they can with a clear conscience escape punishment; three will say "not guilty" boldly, and rather bear the punishment than be false or dishonest; the other three, fearful of being convinced against their will, will carefully stop their ears while the witnesses for the defence are being examined, and delude themselves with the idea they give an honest verdict because they have heard only one side of the evidence. if any out of the dozen deserve punishment, you will surely agree with me it is these. belief or disbelief is therefore not meritorious, and when founded on an unfair balance of evidence is blameable. now to apply the principles to my own case. in my early youth i heard, as ninety-nine-hundredths of the world do, only the evidence on one side, and became impressed with a veneration for religion which has left some traces even to this day. i have since heard and read much on both sides, and pondered much upon the matter in all its bearings. i spent, as you know, a year and a half in a clergyman's family and heard almost every tuesday the very best, most earnest and most impressive preacher it has ever been my fortune to meet with, but it produced no effect whatever on my mind. i have since wandered among men of many races and many religions. i have studied man, and nature in all its aspects, and i have sought after truth. in my solitude i have pondered much on the incomprehensible subjects of space, eternity, life and death. i think i have fairly heard and fairly weighed the evidence on both sides, and i remain an _utter disbeliever_ in almost all that you consider the most sacred truths. i will pass over as utterly contemptible the oft-repeated accusation that sceptics shut out evidence because they will not be governed by the morality of christianity. you i know will not believe that in my case, and _i_ know its falsehood as a general rule. i only ask, do you think i can change the self-formed convictions of twenty-five years, and could you think such a change would have anything in it to merit _reward_ from _justice_? i am thankful i can see much to admire in all religions. to the mass of mankind religion of some kind is a necessity. but whether there be a god and whatever be his nature; whether we have an immortal soul or not, or whatever may be our state after death, i can have no fear of having to suffer for the study of nature and the search for truth, or believe that those will be better off in a future state who have lived in the belief of doctrines inculcated from childhood, and which are to them rather a matter of blind faith than intelligent conviction.--a.r.w. this for yourself; show the _letter only_ to my mother. * * * * * to his mother _sourabaya, java. july , ._ my dear mother,--i am, as you will see, now commencing my retreat westwards, and have left the wild and savage moluccas and new guinea for java, the garden of the east, and probably without any exception the finest island in the world. my plans are to visit the interior and collect till november, and then work my way to singapore so as to return home and arrive in the spring. travelling here will be a much pleasanter business than in any other country i have visited, as there are good roads, regular posting stages, and regular inns or lodging-houses all over the interior, and i shall no more be obliged to carry about with me that miscellaneous lot of household furniture--bed, blankets, pots, kettles and frying pan, plates, dishes and wash-basin, coffee-pots and coffee, tea, sugar and butter, salt, pickles, rice, bread and wine, pepper and curry powder, and half a hundred more odds and ends, the constant looking after which, packing and repacking, calculating and contriving, have been the standing plague of my life for the last seven years. you will better understand this when i tell you that i have made in that time about eighty movements, averaging one a month, at every one of which all of these articles have had to be rearranged and repacked by myself according to the length of the trip, besides a constant personal supervision to prevent waste or destruction of stores in places where it is impossible to supply them. fanny wrote me last month to know about how i should like to live on my return. of course, my dear mother, i should not think of living anywhere but with you, after such a long absence, if you feel yourself equal to housekeeping for us both; and i have always understood that your cottage would be large enough. the accommodation i should require is, besides a small bedroom, one large room, or a small one if there is, besides, a kind of lumber room where i could keep my cases and do rough and dirty work. i expect soon from thomas a sketch-plan of your cottage, by which i can at once tell if it will do. if not, i must leave you and fanny to arrange as you like about a new residence. i should prefer being a little way out of town in a quiet neighbourhood and with a garden, but near an omnibus route, and if necessary i could lodge at any time for a week in london. this, i think, will be better and much cheaper than living close to town, and rents anywhere in the west end are sure now to rise owing to the approaching great exhibition. i must of course study economy, as the little money i have made will not be all got in for a year or two after my return.... you must remember to write to me by the middle of november mail, as that is probably the last letter i can receive from you. i send the letter to fanny, who will most likely call on you and talk over matters. i am a little confused arriving in a new place with a great deal to do and living in a noisy hotel, so different to my usual solitary life, so that i cannot well collect my ideas to write any more, but must remain, my dear mother, your ever affectionate son, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to his sister, mrs. sims _in the mountains of java. october , ._ my dear fanny,--i have just received your second letter in praise of your new house. as i have said my say about it in my last, i shall now send you a few lines on other subjects. i have been staying here a fortnight , feet above the sea in a fine cool climate, but it is unfortunately dreadfully wet and cloudy. i have just returned from a three days' excursion to one of the great java volcanoes , feet high. i slept two nights in a house , feet above the sea. it was bitterly cold at night, as the hut was merely of plaited bamboo, like a sieve, so that the wind came in on all sides. i had flannel jackets and blankets and still was cold, and my poor men, with nothing but their usual thin cotton clothes, passed miserable nights lying on a mat on the ground round the fire which could only warm one side at a time. the highest peak is an extinct volcano with the crater nearly filled up, forming merely a saucer on the top, in which is a good house built by the government for the old dutch naturalists who surveyed and explored the mountain. there are a lot of strawberries planted there, which do very well, but there were not many ripe. the common weeds and plants of the top were very like english ones, such as buttercups, sow-thistle, plantain, wormwood, chickweed, charlock, st. john's wort, violets and many others, all closely allied to our common plants of those names, but of distinct species. there was also a honey-suckle, and a tall and very pretty kind of cowslip. none of these are found in the low tropical lands, and most of them only on the tops of these high mountains. mr. darwin supposed them to have come there during a glacial or very cold period, when they could have spread over the tropics and, as the heat increased, gradually rose up the mountains. they were, as you may imagine, most interesting to me, and i am very glad that i have ascended _one_ lofty mountain in the tropics, though i had miserable wet weather and had no view, owing to constant clouds and mist. i also visited a semi-active volcano close by continually sending out steam with a noise like a blast-furnace--quite enough to give me a conception of all other descriptions of volcanoes. the lower parts of the mountains of java, from , to , feet, have the most beautiful tropical vegetation i have ever seen. abundance of splendid tree ferns, some ft. high, and some hundreds of varieties of other ferns, beautiful-leaved plants as begonias, melastomas, and many others, and more flowers than are generally seen in the tropics. in fact, this region exhibits all the beauty the tropics can produce, but still i consider and will always maintain that our own meadows and woods and mountains are more beautiful. our own weeds and wayside flowers are far prettier and more varied than those of the tropics. it is only the great leaves and the curious-looking plants, and the deep gloom of the forests and the mass of tangled vegetation that astonish and delight europeans, and it is certainly grand and interesting and in a certain sense beautiful, but not the calm, sweet, warm beauty of our own fields, and there is none of the brightness of our own flowers; a field of buttercups, a hill of gorse or of heather, a bank of foxgloves and a hedge of wild roses and purple vetches surpass in _beauty_ anything i have ever seen in the tropics. this is a favourite subject with me, but i cannot go into it now. send the accompanying note to mr. stevens immediately. you will see what i say to him about my collections here. java is the richest of all the islands in birds, but they are as well known as those of europe, and it is almost impossible to get a new one. however, i am adding fine specimens to my collection, which will be altogether the finest known of the birds of the archipelago, except perhaps that of the leyden museum, who have had naturalists collecting for them in all the chief islands for many years with unlimited means. give my kind love to mother, to whom i will write next time.--your affectionate brother, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to g. silk[ ] _singapore. january , ._ my dear george,-- ... on the question of marriage we probably differ much. i believe a good wife to be the greatest blessing a man can enjoy, and the only road to happiness, but the qualifications i should look for are probably not such as would satisfy you. my opinions have changed much on this point: i now look at intellectual companionship as quite a secondary matter, and should my good stars ever send me an affectionate, good-tempered and domestic wife, i shall care not one iota for accomplishments or even for education. i cannot write more now. i do not yet know how long i shall be here, perhaps a month. then ho! for england!--in haste, yours most affectionately, alfred r. wallace. part ii i.--the discovery of natural selection "there are not many joys in human life equal to the joy of the sudden birth of a generalisation, illuminating the mind after a long period of patient research. what has seemed for years so chaotic, so contradictory, and so problematic takes at once its proper position within an harmonious whole. out of the wild confusion of facts and from behind the fog of guesses--contradicted almost as soon as they are born--a stately picture makes its appearance, like an alpine chain suddenly emerging in all its grandeur from the mists which concealed it the moment before, glittering under the rays of the sun in all its simplicity and variety, in all its mightiness and beauty. and when the generalisation is put to a test, by applying it to hundreds of separate facts which seemed to be hopelessly contradictory the moment before, each of them assumes its due position, increasing the impressiveness of the picture, accentuating some characteristic outline, or adding an unsuspected detail full of meaning. the generalisation gains in strength and extent; its foundations grow in width and solidity; while in the distance, through the far-off mist on the horizon, the eye detects the outlines of new and still wider generalisations. he who has once in his life experienced this joy of scientific creation will never forget it; he will be longing to renew it; and he cannot but feel with pain that this sort of happiness is the lot of so few of us, while so many could also live through it--on a small or on a grand scale--if scientific methods and leisure were not limited to a handful of men."--prince kropotkin, "memoirs of a revolutionist." the social and scientific atmosphere in which wallace found himself on his return from his eight years' exile in the malay archipelago was considerably more genial than that which he had enjoyed during his previous stay in london following his exploration of the amazon. his position as one of the leading scientists of the day was already recognised, dating from the memorable st of july, , when the two papers, his own and darwin's, on the theory of natural selection had been read before the linnean society. during the four years which had elapsed since that date the storm of criticism had waxed and waned; subsiding for a time only to burst out afresh from some new quarter where the theory bade fair to jeopardise some ancient belief in which scientist or theologian had rested with comparative satisfaction until so rudely disturbed. during this period wallace had been quietly pursuing his researches in the malay archipelago, though not without a keen interest in all that was taking place at home in so far as this reached him by means of correspondence and newspaper reports--his only means of keeping in touch with the world beyond the boundaries of the semi-civilised countries in which he was then living. in order to follow the story of how the conception of the theory of natural selection grew and eventually took definite form in wallace's mind, independently of the same development in the mind of darwin, we must go back to a much earlier period in his life, and as nearly as possible link up, the scattered remarks which here and there act as signposts pointing towards the supreme solution which has made his name famous for all time. in part i., section i., many passages occur which clearly reveal his awakening to the study of nature. a chance remark overheard in conversation in the quiet street of hertford touched the hidden spring of interest in a subject which was to become the one great purpose of his life. then his enthusiastic yielding to the simple and natural attraction which flowers and trees have always exerted upon the sympathetic observer led step by step to the study of groups and families, until, on his second sojourn at neath, and about a year before his journey to south america with h.w. bates, we find him deliberately pondering over the problem which many years later he described by saying that he "had in fact been bitten by the passion for species and their description." in a letter to bates dated november th, , he concludes by asking, "have you read 'vestiges of the natural history of creation,' or is it out of your line?" and in the next (dated december th), in reply to one from his friend, he continues, "i have a rather more favourable opinion of the 'vestiges' than you appear to have, i do not consider it a hasty generalisation, but rather an ingenious hypothesis strongly supported by some striking facts and analogies, but which remains to be proved by more facts and the additional light which more research may throw upon the problem.... it furnishes a subject for every observer of nature to attend to; every fact," he observes, "will make either for or against it, and it thus serves both as an incitement to the collection of facts, and an object to which they can be applied when collected. many eminent writers support the theory of the progressive development of animals and plants. there is a very philosophical work bearing directly on the question--lawrence's 'lectures on man'.... the great object of these 'lectures' is to illustrate the different races of mankind, and the manner in which they probably originated, and he arrives at the conclusion (as also does prichard in his work on the 'physical history of man') that the varieties of the human race have not been produced by any external causes, but are due to the development of certain distinctive peculiarities in some individuals which have thereafter become propagated through an entire race. now, i should say that a permanent peculiarity not produced by external causes is a characteristic of 'species' and not of mere 'variety,' and thus, if the theory of the 'vestiges' is accepted, the negro, the red indian, and the european are distinct species of the genus homo. "an animal which differs from another by some decided and permanent character, however slight, which difference is undiminished by propagation and unchanged by climate and external circumstances, is universally held to be a distinct _species_; while one which is not regularly transmitted so as to form a distinct race, but is occasionally reproduced from the parent stock (like albinoes), is generally, if the difference is not very considerable, classed as a _variety_. but i would class both these as distinct _species_, and i would only consider those to be _varieties_ whose differences are produced by external causes, and which, therefore, are not propagated as distinct races." again, writing about the same period, he adds: "i begin to feel rather dissatisfied with a mere local collection; little is to be learnt by it. i should like to take some one family to study thoroughly, principally with a view to the theory of the origin of species. by that means i am strongly of opinion that some definite results might be arrived at." and he further alludes to "my favourite subject--the variations, arrangements, distribution, etc., of species."[ ] it is evident that in bates wallace found his first real friend and companion in matters scientific; for in another letter he says: "i quite envy you, who have friends near you attracted to the same pursuits. i know not a single person in this little town who studies any one branch of natural history, so that i am quite alone in this respect." in fact, except for a little friendly help now and then, as in the case of mr. hayward lending him a copy of loudon's encyclopedia of plants, he had always pondered over his nature studies without any assistance up to the time of his meeting bates at leicester. from the date of the above letter ( ) on to the early part of --nearly eight years later--no reference is found either in his life or correspondence to the one absorbing idea towards which all his reflective powers were being directed. then, during a quiet time at sarawak, the accumulation of thought and observation found expression in an essay entitled "the law which has regulated the introduction of species," which appeared in the _annals and magazine of natural history_ in the following september ( ). from november, , the year of his arrival in the east, until january or february, , sarawak was the centre from which wallace made his explorations inland, including some adventurous excursions on the sadong river. during the wet season--or spring--of , while living in a small house at the foot of the santubong mountains (with one malay boy who acted as cook and general companion), he tells us how he occupied his time in looking over his books and pondering "over the problem which was rarely absent from [his] thoughts." in addition to the knowledge he had acquired from reading such books as those by swainson and humboldt, also lucien bonaparte's "conspectus," and several catalogues of insects and reptiles in the british museum "giving a mass of facts" as to the distribution of animals over the whole world, and having by his own efforts accumulated a vast store of information and facts direct from nature while in south america and since coming out east, he arrived at the conclusion that this "mass of facts" had never been properly utilised as an indication of the way in which species had come into existence. having no fellow-traveller to whom he could confide these conclusions, he was almost driven to put his thoughts and ideas on paper--weighing each argument with studious care and open-eyed consideration as to its bearing on the whole theory. as the "result seemed to be of some importance," it was sent, as already mentioned, to the _annals and magazine of natural history_ as one of the leading scientific journals in england. in the light of future events it is not surprising that huxley (many years later), in referring to this "powerful essay," adds: "on reading it afresh i have been astonished to recollect how small was the impression it made." as this earliest contribution by wallace to the doctrine of evolution[ ] is of peculiar historical value, and has not been so fully recognised as it undoubtedly deserves, and is now almost inaccessible, it will be useful to indicate in his own words the clear line of argument put forth by him two years before his second essay with which many readers are more familiar. he begins: every naturalist who has directed his attention to the subject of the geographical distribution of animals and plants must have been interested in the singular facts which it presents. many of these facts are quite different from what would have been anticipated, and have hitherto been considered as highly curious but quite inexplicable. none of the explanations attempted from the time of linnæus are now considered at all satisfactory; none of them have given a cause sufficient to account for the facts known at the time, or comprehensive enough to include all the new facts which have since been and are daily being added. of late years, however, a great light has been thrown upon the subject by geological investigations, which have shown that the present state of the earth, and the organisms now inhabiting it, are but the last stage of a long and uninterrupted series of changes which it has undergone, and consequently, that to endeavour to explain and account for its present condition without any reference to those changes (as has frequently been done) must lead to very imperfect and erroneous conclusions.... the following propositions in organic geography and geology give the main facts on which the hypothesis [_see_ p. ] is founded. geography ( ) large groups, such as classes and orders, are generally spread over the whole earth, while smaller ones, such as families and genera, are frequently confined to one portion, often to a very limited district. ( ) in widely distributed families the genera are often limited in range; in widely distributed genera, well-marked groups of species are peculiar to each geographical district. ( ) when a group is confined to one district and is rich in species, it is almost invariably the case that the most closely allied species are found in the same locality or in closely adjoining localities, and that therefore the natural sequence of the species by affinity is also geographical. ( ) in countries of a similar climate, but separated by a wide sea or lofty mountains, the families, genera and species of the one are often represented by closely allied families, genera and species peculiar to the other. geology ( ) the distribution of the organic world in time is very similar to its present distribution in space. ( ) most of the larger and some of the smaller groups extend through several geological periods. ( ) in each period, however, there are peculiar groups, found nowhere else, and extending through one or several formations. ( ) species of one genus, or genera of one family, occurring in the same geological time are more closely allied than those separated in time. ( ) as generally in geography no species or genus occurs in two very distant localities without being also found in intermediate places, so in geology the life of a species or genus has not been interrupted. in other words, no group or species has come into existence twice. ( ) the following law may be deduced from these facts: _every species has come into existence coincident both in time and space with a pre-existing closely allied species_. this law agrees with, explains and illustrates all the facts connected with the following branches of the subject: st, the system of natural affinities; nd, the distribution of animals and plants in space; rd, the same in time, including all the phenomena of representative groups, and those which prof. forbes supposed to manifest polarity; th, the phenomena of rudimentary organs. we will briefly endeavour to show its bearing upon each of these. if [this] law be true, it follows that the natural series of affinities will also represent the order in which the several species came into existence, each one having had for its immediate antetype a clearly allied species existing at the time of its origin.... if two or more species have been independently formed on the plan of a common antetype, then the series of affinities will be compound, and can only be represented by a forked or many-branched line.... sometimes the series of affinities can be well represented for a space by a direct progression from species to species or from group to group, but it is generally found impossible so to continue. there constantly occur two or more modifications of an organ or modifications of two distinct organs, leading us on to two distinct series of species, which at length differ so much from each other as to form distinct genera or families. these are the parallel series or representative groups of naturalists, and they often occur in different countries, or are found fossil in different formations.... we thus see how difficult it is to determine in every case whether a given relation is an analogy or an affinity, for it is evident that as we go back along the parallel or divergent series, towards the common antetype, the analogy which existed between the two groups becomes an affinity.... again, if we consider that we have only the fragments of this vast system, the stems and main branches being represented by extinct species of which we have no knowledge, while a vast mass of limbs and boughs and minute twigs and scattered leaves is what we have to place in order, and determine the true position each originally occupied with regard to the others, the whole difficulty of the true natural system of classification becomes apparent to us. we shall thus find ourselves obliged to reject all those systems of classification which arrange species or groups in circles, as well as those which fix a definite number for the division of each group.... we have ... never been able to find a case in which the circle has been closed by a direct affinity. in most cases a palpable analogy has been substituted, in others the affinity is very obscure or altogether doubtful.... if we now consider the geographical distribution of animals and plants upon the earth, we shall find all the facts beautifully in accordance with, and readily explained by, the present hypothesis. a country having species, genera, and whole families peculiar to it will be the necessary result of its having been isolated for a long period, sufficient for many series of species to have been created on the type of pre-existing ones, which, as well as many of the earlier-formed species, have become extinct, and made the groups appear isolated.... such phenomena as are exhibited by the galapagos islands, which contain little groups of plants and animals peculiar to themselves, but most nearly allied to those of south america, have not hitherto received any, even a conjectural explanation. the galapagos are a volcanic group of high antiquity and have probably never been more closely connected with the continent than they are at present. he then proceeds at some length to explain how the galapagos must have been at first "peopled ... by the action of winds and currents," and that the modified prototypes remaining are the "new species" which have been "created in each on the plan of the pre-existing ones." this is followed by a graphic sketch of the general effect of volcanic and other action as affecting the distribution of species, and the exact form in which they are found, even fishes giving "evidence of a similar kind: each great river [having] its peculiar genera, and in more extensive genera its groups of closely allied species." after stating a number of practical examples he continues: the question forces itself upon every thinking mind--why are these things so? they could not be as they are, had no law regulated their creation and dispersion. the law here enunciated not merely explains, but necessitates the facts we see to exist, while the vast and long-continued geological changes of the earth readily account for the exceptions and apparent discrepancies that here and there occur. the writer's object in putting forward his views in the present imperfect manner is to submit them to the tests of other minds, and to be made aware of all the facts supposed to be inconsistent with them. as his hypothesis is one which claims acceptance solely as explaining and connecting facts which exist in nature, he expects facts alone to be brought forward to disprove it, not _a priori_ arguments against its probability. he then refers to some of the geological "principles" expounded by sir charles lyell on the "extinction of species," and follows this up by saying: to discover how the extinct species have from time to time been replaced by new ones down to the very latest geological period, is the most difficult, and at the same time the most interesting, problem in the natural history of the earth. the present inquiry, which seeks to eliminate from known facts a law which has determined, to a certain degree, what species could and did appear at a given epoch, may, it is hoped, be considered as one step in the right direction towards a complete solution of it.... admitted facts seem to show ... a general, but not a detailed progression.... it is, however, by no means difficult to show that a real progression in the scale of organisation is perfectly consistent with all the appearances, and even with apparent retrogression should such occur. using once more the analogy of a branching tree to illustrate the natural arrangement of species and their successive creation, he clearly shows how "apparent retrogression may be in reality a progress, though an interrupted one"; as "when some monarch of the forest loses a limb, it may be replaced by a feeble and sickly substitute." as an instance he mentions the mollusca, which at an early period had reached a high state of development of forms and species, while in each succeeding age modified species and genera replaced the former ones which had become extinct, and "as we approach the present era but few and small representatives of the group remain, while the gasteropods and bivalves have acquired an immense preponderance." in the long series of changes the earth had undergone, the process of peopling it with organic beings had been continually going on, and whenever any of the higher groups had become nearly or quite extinct, the lower forms which better resisted the modified physical conditions served as the antetype on which to found new races. in this manner alone, it was believed, could the representative groups of successive periods, and the risings and fallings in the scale of organisations, be in every case explained. again, attending to a recent article by prof. forbes, he points out certain inaccuracies and how they may be proved to be so; and continues: we have no reason for believing that the number of species on the earth at any former period was much less than at present; at all events the aquatic portion, with which the geologists have most acquaintance, was probably often as great or greater. now we know that there have been many complete changes of species, new sets of organisms have many times been introduced in place of old ones which have become extinct, so that the total amount which have existed on the earth from the earliest geological period must have borne about the same proportion to those now living as the whole human race who have lived and died upon the earth to the population at the present time.... records of vast geological periods are entirely buried beneath the ocean ... beyond our reach. most of the gaps in the geological series may thus be filled up, and vast numbers of unknown and unimaginable animals which might help to elucidate the affinities of the numerous isolated groups which are a perpetual puzzle to the zoologist may be buried there, till future revolutions may raise them in turn above the water, to afford materials for the study of whatever race of intelligent beings may then have succeeded us. these considerations must lead us to the conclusion that our knowledge of the whole series of the former inhabitants of the earth is necessarily most imperfect and fragmentary--as much as our knowledge of the present organic world would be, were we forced to make our collections and observations only in spots equally limited in area and in number with those actually laid open for the collection of fossils.... the hypothesis of prof. forbes is essentially one that assumes to a great extent the _completeness_ of our knowledge of the _whole series_ of organic beings which have existed on earth.... the hypothesis put forward in this paper depends in no degree upon the completeness of our knowledge of the former condition of the organic world, but takes what facts we have as fragments of a vast whole, and deduces from them something of the nature and proportion of that whole which we can never know in detail.... another important series of facts, quite in accordance with, and even necessary deductions from, the law now developed, are those of _rudimentary organs_. that these really do exist, and in most cases have no special function in the animal economy, is admitted by the first authorities in comparative anatomy. the minute limbs hidden beneath the skin in many of the snake-like lizards, the anal hooks of the boa constrictor, the complete series of jointed finger-bones in the paddle of the manatee and the whale, are a few of the most familiar instances. in botany a similar class of facts has been long recognised. abortive stamens, rudimentary floral envelope and undeveloped carpels are of the most frequent occurrence. to every thoughtful naturalist the question must arise, what are these for? what have they to do with the great laws of creation? do they not teach us something of the system of nature? if each species has been created independently, and without any necessary relation with pre-existing species, what do these rudiments, these apparent imperfections, mean? there must be a cause for them; they must be the necessary result of some great natural law. now, if ... the great law which has regulated the peopling of the earth with animal and vegetable life is, that every change shall be gradual; that no new creature shall be formed widely different from anything before existing; that in this, as in everything else in nature, there shall be gradation and harmony--then these rudimentary organs are necessary and are an essential part of the system of nature. ere the higher vertebrates were formed, for instance, many steps were required, and many organs had to undergo modifications from the rudimental condition in which only they had as yet existed.... many more of these modifications should we behold, and more complete series of them, had we a view of all the forms which have ceased to live. the great gaps that exist ... would be softened down by intermediate groups, and the whole organic world would be seen to be an unbroken and harmonious system. the article, in which we can see a great generalisation struggling to be born, ends thus: it has now been shown, though most briefly and imperfectly, how the law that "every species has come into existence coincident both in time and space with a pre-existing closely allied species," connects together and renders intelligible a vast number of independent and hitherto unexplained facts. the natural system of arrangement of organic beings, their geographical distribution, their geological sequence, the phenomena of representative and substituted groups in all their modifications, and the most singular peculiarities of anatomical structure, are all explained and illustrated by it, in perfect accordance with the vast mass of facts which the researches of modern naturalists have brought together, and, it is believed, not materially opposed to any of them. it also claims a superiority over previous hypotheses, on the ground that it not merely explains but necessitates what exists. granted the law, and many of the most important facts in nature could not have been otherwise, but are almost as necessary deductions from it as are the elliptic orbits of the planets from the law of gravitation. some time after the appearance of this article, wallace was informed by his friend and agent, mr. stevens, that several naturalists had expressed regret that he was "theorising," when what "was wanted was to collect more facts." apart from this the only recognition which reached him in his remote solitude was a remark in an approving letter from darwin (_see_ p. ). as wallace wrote nothing further of importance until the second essay which more fully disclosed his view of the origin of species, we will now briefly trace the growth of the theory of natural selection up to , as it came to darwin. it is well known that during darwin's voyage in the _beagle_ he was deeply impressed by discovering extinct armadillo-like fossil forms in south america, the home of armadilloes, and by observing the relationship of the plants and animals of each island in the galapagos group to those of the other islands and of south america, the nearest continent. these facts suggested evolution, and without evolution appeared to be meaningless. evolution and its motive cause were the problems which "haunted" him for the next twenty years. the first step towards a possible solution was the "opening of a notebook for facts in relation to the origin of species" in , two years before the publication of his journal. from the very commencement of his literary and scientific work, a rule rigidly adhered to was that of interspersing his main line of thought and research by reading books touching on widely diverging subjects; and it was thus, no doubt, that during october, , he read "for amusement" malthus's "essay on population"; not, as he himself affirms, with any definite idea as to its intimate bearing on the subject so near his heart. but the immediate result was that the idea of natural selection at once arose in his mind, and, in his own words, he "had a theory by which to work." in may and june, , during a visit to maer and shrewsbury, he wrote his first "pencil sketch of species theory," but not until two years later ( ) did he venture to enlarge this to one of folio pages, "a wonderfully complete presentation of the arguments familiar to us in the 'origin.'"[ ] already, in addition to the mass of facts collected, darwin was busy with some of the experiments which he described in a letter to sir joseph hooker (in ) as affording the latter a "good right to sneer, for they are so _absurd_, even in _my_ opinion, that i dare not tell you." while a sentence in another letter (dated ) throws a sidelight on all this preparatory work: "in your letter you wonder what 'ornamental poultry' has to do with barnacles; but do not flatter yourself that i shall not yet live to finish the barnacles, and then make a fool of myself on the subject of species, under which head ornamental poultry are very interesting." somewhere about this time ( - ), darwin, referring to the idea of natural selection which arose in his mind after reading malthus on "population" four years earlier, continues: "but at that time i overlooked one problem of great importance ... the tendency in organic beings descended from the same stock to diverge in character as they become modified ... and i can remember the very spot in the road, whilst in my carriage, when to my joy the solution occurred to me.... the solution, as i believe, is that the modified offspring of all dominant and increasing forms tend to become adapted to many and highly diversified places in the economy of nature."[ ] so convinced was he of the truth of his ideas as expressed in the ms., that immediately after its completion he wrote the memorable letter to mrs. darwin telling her what he would wish done regarding its publication in the event of his death. it was probably about two years later ( ) that he first confided his completed work--up to that date--to sir joseph hooker, and later to sir charles lyell; refraining, however, except in general conversation with other scientists, from informing anyone of the progress he was making towards a positive solution of the problem. his attitude of mind and manner at this period is happily illustrated by huxley, who, speaking of his early acquaintance with darwin, says: "i remember in the course of my first interview with darwin expressing my belief in the sharpness of the line of demarcation between natural groups and in the absence of transitional forms, with all the confidence of youth and imperfect knowledge. i was not aware, at that time, that he had then been many years brooding over the species question; and the humorous smile which accompanied his gentle answer, that such was not altogether his view, long haunted and puzzled me." little did charles darwin dream that, only three years after this first ms. was written (in ), a youthful naturalist--known only as a surveyor at neath--was deliberately pondering over the same issue, and writing to his only scientific friend on the subject. as, however, the different methods of thought by which they arrived at the same conclusion is so aptly related by wallace himself, we will leave it for him to tell the story in its appointed place.[ ] in , the year following the appearance of wallace's essay in the _annals and magazine of natural history_, both hooker and lyell urged darwin to publish the result of his long and patient research. but he was still reluctant to do so, not having as yet satisfied himself with regard to certain conclusions which, he felt, must be stoutly maintained in face of the enormous amount of criticism which would arise immediately his theory was launched on the scientific world. and thus the event was postponed until the memorable year . up to the year no correspondence had passed between wallace and darwin, so far, at least, as the former could remember, for he says, in a letter dated frith hill, godalming, december , (written to mr. a. newton): "i had hardly heard of darwin before going to the east, except as connected with the voyage of the _beagle_.... i saw him _once_ for a few minutes in the british museum before i sailed. through stevens, my agent, i heard that he wanted curious _varieties_ which he was studying. i _think_ i wrote about some varieties of ducks i had sent, and he must have written once to me.... but at that time i had not the remotest notion that he had already arrived at a definite theory--still less that it was the same as occurred to me, suddenly, in ternate in ." it is clear, therefore, that the essay written at sarawak formed the first real link with darwin, although not fully recognised at the time. in may, , darwin wrote to wallace: "i am much obliged for your letter ... and even still more by your paper in the _annals_, a year or more ago. i can plainly see that we have thought much alike and to a certain extent have come to similar conclusions.... i agree to almost every word of your paper; and i dare say that you will agree with me that it is very rare to find oneself agreeing pretty closely with any theoretical paper." he concludes: "you have my very sincere and cordial good wishes for success of all kinds, and may all your theories succeed, except that on oceanic islands, on which subject i will do battle to the death." the three years from to were for wallace crowded with hard work, and perilous voyages by sea and hardships by land. january, , found him at amboyna, where, in all probability, he found a pile of long-delayed correspondence awaiting him, and among this a letter from bates referring to the article which had appeared in print september, . in reply he says: "to persons who have not thought much on the subject i fear my paper on the 'succession of species' will not appear so clear as it does to you. that paper is, of course, merely the announcement of the theory, not its development. i have prepared the plan and written portions of a work embracing the whole subject, and have endeavoured to prove in detail what i have as yet only indicated.... i have been much gratified by a letter from darwin, in which he says that he agrees with 'almost every word' of my paper. he is now preparing his great work on 'species and varieties,' for which he has been preparing materials for twenty years. he may save me the trouble of writing more on my hypothesis, by proving that there is no difference in nature between the origin of species and of varieties; or he may give me trouble by arriving at another conclusion; but, at all events, his facts will be given for me to work upon. your collections and my own will furnish most valuable material to illustrate and prove the universal application of the hypothesis. the connection between the succession of affinities and the geographical distribution of a group, worked out species by species, has never yet been shown as we shall be able to show it." "this letter proves," writes wallace,[ ] "that at this time i had not the least idea of the nature of darwin's proposed work nor of the definite conclusions he had arrived at, nor had i myself any expectations of a complete solution of the great problem to which my paper was merely the prelude. yet less than two months later that solution flashed upon me, and to a large extent marked out a different line of work from that which i had up to this time anticipated.... in other parts of this letter i refer to the work i hoped to do myself in describing, cataloguing, and working out the distribution of my insects. i had in fact been bitten by the passion for species and their description, and if neither darwin nor myself had hit upon 'natural selection,' i might have spent the best years of my life in this comparatively profitless work. but the new ideas swept all this away." this letter was finished after his arrival at ternate, and a few weeks later he was prostrated by a sharp attack of intermittent fever which obliged him to take a prolonged rest each day, owing to the exhausting hot and cold fits which rapidly succeeded one another. the little bungalow at ternate had now come to be regarded as "home" for it was here that he stored all his treasured collections, besides making it the goal of all his wanderings in the archipelago. one can understand, therefore, that, in spite of the fever, there was a sense of satisfaction in the feeling that he was surrounded with the trophies of his arduous labours as a naturalist, and this passion for species and their descriptions being an ever-present speculation in his mind, his very surroundings would unconsciously conduce towards the line of thought which brought to memory the argument of "positive checks" set forth by malthus in his "principles of population" (read twelve years earlier) as applied to savage and civilised races. "it then," he says, "occurred to me that these causes or their equivalents are continually acting in the case of animals also; and as animals usually breed much more rapidly than does mankind, the destruction every year from these causes must be enormous in order to keep down the numbers of each species, since they evidently do not increase regularly from year to year, as otherwise the world would have been densely crowded with those that breed most quickly.... then it suddenly flashed upon me that this self-acting process would necessarily _improve the race_, because in every generation the inferior would inevitably be killed off and the superior would remain--that is, the _fittest would survive_. then at once i seemed to see the whole effect of this, that when changes of land and sea, or of climate, or of food-supply, or of enemies occurred--and we know that such changes have always been taking place--and considering the amount of individual variation that my experience as a collector had shown me to exist, then it followed that all the changes necessary for the adaptation of the species to the changing conditions would be brought about; and as great changes in the environment are always slow, there would be ample time for the change to be effected by the survival of the best fitted in every generation. in this way every part of an animal's organism could be modified as required, and in the very process of this modification the unmodified would die out, and thus the _definite_ characters and the clear _isolation_ of each new species would be explained. the more i thought over it the more i became convinced that i had at length found the long-sought-for law of nature that solved the problem of the origin of species. for the next hour i thought over the deficiencies in the theories of lamarck and of the author of the 'vestiges,' and i saw that my new theory supplemented these views and obviated every important difficulty. i waited anxiously for the termination of my fit (of fever) so that i might at once make notes for a paper on the subject. the same evening i did this pretty fully, and on the two succeeding evenings wrote it out carefully in order to send it to darwin by the next post, which would leave in a day or two."[ ] the story of the arrival of this letter at down, and of the swift passage of events between the date on which darwin received it and the reading of the "joint communications" before the linnean society, has been often told. but few, perhaps, have enjoyed the privilege of reading the account of this memorable proceeding as related by sir joseph hooker at the celebration of the event held by the linnean society in . as, therefore, the correspondence (pp. - ) between wallace and darwin during a long series of years conveys many expressions of their mutual appreciation of each other's work in connection with the origin of species, it will avoid a possible repetition of these if we take a long leap forward and give the notable speeches made by wallace, sir joseph hooker, sir e. ray lankester, and others at this historical ceremony, which have not been published except in the _proceedings_ of the society, now out of print. the gathering was held on july , , at the institute of civil engineers, great george street, to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the joint communication made by charles darwin and alfred russel wallace to the linnean society, "on the tendency of species to form varieties; and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection." the large gathering included the president, dr. dukinfield h. scott, distinguished representatives of many scientific societies and universities, the danish and swedish ministers, and a representative from the german embassy. most of the members of dr. wallace's and mr. darwin's family were also present.[ ] the president opened with some explanatory observations, and then invited wallace to come forward in order to receive the first darwin-wallace medal. in presenting it he said: dr. alfred russel wallace,--we rejoice that we are so happy as to have with us to-day the survivor of the two great naturalists whose crowning work we are here to commemorate. your brilliant work in natural history and geography, and as one of the founders of the theory of evolution by natural selection, is universally honoured and has often received public recognition, as in the awards of the darwin and royal medals of the royal society, and of our medal in . to-day, in asking you to accept the first darwin-wallace medal, we are offering you of your own, for it is you, equally with your great colleague, who created the occasion we celebrate. there is nothing in the history of science more delightful or more noble than the story of the relations between yourself and mr. darwin, as told in the correspondence now so fully published--the story of a generous rivalry in which each discoverer strives to exalt the claims of the other. we know that mr. darwin wrote (april th, ): "you cannot tell how much i admire your spirit in the manner in which you have taken all that was done about publishing our papers. i had actually written a letter to you stating that i would not publish anything before you had published." then came the letters of hooker and lyell, leading to the publication of the joint papers which they communicated. you, on your side, always gave the credit to him, and underestimated your own position as the co-discoverer. i need only refer to your calling your great exposition of the joint theory "darwinism," as the typical example of your generous emphasising of the claims of your illustrious fellow-worker. it was a remarkable and momentous coincidence that both you and he should have independently arrived at the idea of natural selection after reading malthus's book, and a most happy inspiration that you should have selected mr. darwin as the naturalist to whom to communicate your discovery. that theory, in spite of changes in the scientific fashion of the moment, you have always unflinchingly maintained, and still uphold as unshaken by all attacks. like mr. darwin, you, if i may say so, are above all a naturalist, a student and lover of living animals and plants, as shown in later years by your enthusiasm and success in gardening. it is to such men, those who have learnt the ways of nature, as nature really is in the open, to whom your doctrine of natural selection specially appeals, and therein lies its great and lasting strength. finally, you must allow me to allude to the generous interest you have always shown, and continue to show, in the careers of younger men who are endeavouring to follow in your steps. i ask you, dr. wallace, to accept this medal, struck in your honour and in that of the great work inaugurated fifty years ago by mr. darwin and yourself. wallace began his reply by thanking the council of the society for the honour they had done him, and then proceeded: since the death of darwin, in , i have found myself in the somewhat unusual position of receiving credit and praise from popular writers under a complete misapprehension of what my share in darwin's work really amounted to. it has been stated (not unfrequently) in the daily and weekly press, that darwin and myself discovered "natural selection" simultaneously, while a more daring few have declared that i was _the first_ to discover it, and i gave way to darwin! in order to avoid further errors of this kind (which this celebration may possibly encourage), i think it will be well to give the actual facts as simply and clearly as possible. the _one fact_ that connects me with darwin, and which, i am happy to say, has never been doubted, is that the idea of what is now termed "natural selection" or "survival of the fittest," together with its far-reaching consequences, occurred to us _independently_, and was first jointly announced before this society fifty years ago. but, what is often forgotten by the press and the public is, that the idea occurred to darwin in , nearly twenty years earlier than to myself (in february, ); and that during the whole of that twenty years he had been laboriously collecting evidence from the vast mass of literature of biology, of horticulture, and of agriculture; as well as himself carrying out ingenious experiments and original observations, the extent of which is indicated by the range of subjects discussed in his "origin of species," and especially in that wonderful storehouse of knowledge, his "animals and plants under domestication," almost the whole materials for which work had been collected, and to a large extent systematised, during that twenty years. so far back as , at a time when i had hardly thought of any serious study of nature, darwin had written an outline of his views, which he communicated to his friends sir charles lyell and dr. (now sir joseph) hooker. the former strongly urged him to publish an abstract of his theory as soon as possible, lest some other person might precede him; but he always refused till he had got together the whole of the materials for his intended great work. then, at last, lyell's prediction was fulfilled, and, without any apparent warning, my letter, with the enclosed essay, came upon him, like a thunderbolt from a cloudless sky! this forced him to what he considered a premature publicity, and his two friends undertook to have our two papers read before this society. how different from this long study and preparation--this philosophical caution--this determination not to make known his fruitful conception till he could back it up by overwhelming proofs--was my own conduct. the idea came to me as it had come to darwin, in a sudden flash of insight; it was thought out in a few hours--was written down with such a sketch of its various applications and developments as occurred to me at the moment--then copied on thin letter paper and sent off to darwin--all within one week. _i_ was then (as often since) the "young man in a hurry": _he_, the painstaking and patient student seeking ever the full demonstration of the truth that he had discovered, rather than to achieve immediate personal fame. such being the actual facts of the case, i should have had no cause for complaint if the respective shares of darwin and myself in regard to the elucidation of nature's method of organic development had been henceforth estimated as being, roughly, proportional to the time we had each bestowed upon it when it was thus first given to the world--that is to say, as twenty years is to one week. for, he had already made it his own. if the persuasion of his friends had prevailed with him, and he had published his theory after ten years'--fifteen years'--or even eighteen years' elaboration of it--_i_ should have had no part in it whatever, and _he_ would have been at once recognised as the sole and undisputed discoverer and patient investigator of this great law of "natural selection" in all its far-reaching consequences. it was really a singular piece of good luck that gave to me any share whatever in the discovery. during the first half of the nineteenth century (and even earlier) many great biological thinkers and workers had been pondering over the problem and had even suggested ingenious but inadequate solutions. some of these men were among the greatest intellects of our time, yet, till darwin, all had failed; and it was only darwin's extreme desire to perfect his work that allowed me to come in, as a very bad second, in the truly olympian race in which all philosophical biologists, from buffon and erasmus darwin to richard owen and robert chambers, were more or less actively engaged. and this brings me to the very interesting question: why did so many of the greatest intellects fail, while darwin and myself hit upon the solution of this problem--a solution which this celebration proves to have been (and still to be) a satisfying one to a large number of those best able to form a judgment on its merits? as i have found what seems to me a good and precise answer to this question, and one which is of some psychological interest, i will, with your permission, briefly state what it is. on a careful consideration, we find a curious series of correspondences, both in mind and in environment, which led darwin and myself, alone among our contemporaries, to reach identically the same theory. first (and most important, as i believe), in early life both darwin and myself became ardent beetle-hunters. now there is certainly no group of organisms that so impresses the collector by the almost infinite number of its specific forms, the endless modifications of structure, shape, colour, and surface-markings that distinguish them from each other, and their innumerable adaptations to diverse environments. these interesting features are exhibited almost as strikingly in temperate as in tropical regions, our own comparatively limited island-fauna possessing more than , species of this one order of insects. again, both darwin and myself had what he terms "the mere passion for collecting," not that of studying the minutiæ of structure, either internal or external. i should describe it rather as an intense interest in the variety of living things--the variety that catches the eye of the observer even among those which are very much alike, but which are soon found to differ in several distinct characters. now it is this superficial and almost child-like interest in the outward forms of living things which, though often despised as unscientific, happened to be _the only one_ which would lead us towards a solution of the problem of species. for nature herself distinguishes her species by just such characters--often exclusively so, always in some degree--very small changes in outline, or in the proportions of appendages--as give a quite distinct and recognisable facies to each, often aided by slight peculiarities in motion or habit; while in a larger number of cases differences of surface-texture, of colour, or in the details of the same general scheme of colour-pattern or of shading, give an unmistakable individuality to closely allied species. it is the constant search for and detection of these often unexpected differences between very similar creatures that gives such an intellectual charm and fascination to the mere collection of these insects; and when, as in the case of darwin and myself, the collectors were of a speculative turn of mind, they were constantly led to think upon the "why" and the "how" of all this wonderful variety in nature--this overwhelming and, at first sight, purposeless wealth of specific forms among the very humblest forms of life. then, a little later (and with both of us almost accidentally) we became travellers, collectors, and observers, in some of the richest and most interesting portions of the earth; and we thus had forced upon our attention all the strange phenomena of local and geographical distribution, with the numerous problems to which they give rise. thenceforward our interest in the great mystery of _how_ species came into existence was intensified, and--again to use darwin's expression--"haunted" us. finally, both darwin and myself, at the critical period when our minds were freshly stored with a considerable body of personal observation and reflection bearing upon the problem to be solved, had our attention directed to the system of _positive checks_ as expounded by malthus in his "principles of population." the effect of that was analogous to that of friction upon the specially prepared match, producing that flash of insight which led us immediately to the simple but universal law of the "survival of the fittest," as the long-sought _effective_ cause of the continuous modification and adaptations of living things. it is an unimportant detail that darwin read this book two years _after_ his return from his voyage, while i read it _before_ i went abroad, and it was a sudden recollection of its teachings that caused the solution to flash upon me. i attach much importance, however, to the large amount of solitude we both enjoyed during our travels, which, at the most impressionable period of our lives, gave us ample time for reflection on the phenomena we were daily observing. this view, of the combination of certain mental faculties and external conditions that led darwin and myself to an identical conception, also serves to explain why none of our precursors or contemporaries hit upon what is really so very simple a solution of the great problem. such evolutionists as robert chambers, herbert spencer, and huxley, though of great intellect, wide knowledge, and immense power of work, had none of them the special turn of mind that makes the collector and the species-man; while they all--as well as the equally great thinker on similar lines, sir charles lyell--became in early life immersed in different lines of research which engaged their chief attention. neither did the actual precursors of darwin in the statement of the principle--wells, matthews and prichard--possess any adequate knowledge of the class of facts above referred to, or sufficient antecedent interest in the problem itself, which were both needed in order to perceive the application of the principle to the mode of development of the varied forms of life. and now, to recur to my own position, i may be allowed to make a final remark. i have long since come to see that no one deserves either praise or blame for the _ideas_ that come to him, but only for the actions resulting therefrom. ideas and beliefs are certainly not voluntary acts. they come to us--we hardly know _how_ or _whence_, and once they have got possession of us we cannot reject or change them at will. it is for the common good that the promulgation of ideas should be free--uninfluenced either by praise or blame, reward or punishment. but the _actions_ which result from our ideas may properly be so treated, because it is only by patient thought and work that new ideas, if good and true, become adapted and utilised; while if untrue, or if not adequately presented to the world, they are rejected or forgotten. i therefore accept the crowning honour you have conferred on me to-day, not for the happy chance through which i became an independent originator of the doctrine of "survival of the fittest," but as a too liberal recognition by you of the moderate amount of time and work i have given to explain and elucidate the theory, to point out some novel applications of it, and (i hope i may add) for my attempts to extend those applications, even in directions which somewhat diverged from those accepted by my honoured friend and teacher charles darwin. sir joseph hooker was now called upon by the president to receive the darwin-wallace medal. in acknowledging the honour that had been paid him, he said: no thesis or subject was vouchsafed to me by the council, but, having gratefully accepted the honour, i was bound to find one for myself. it soon dawned upon me that the object sought by my selection might have been that, considering the intimate terms upon which mr. darwin extended to me his friendship, i could from my memory contribute to the knowledge of some important events in his career. it having been intimated to me that this was in a measure true, i have selected as such an event one germane to this celebration and also engraven on my memory, namely, the considerations which determined mr. darwin to assent to the course which sir charles lyell and myself had suggested to him, that of presenting to the society, in one communication, his own and mr. wallace's theories on the effect of variation and the struggle for existence on the evolution of species. you have all read francis darwin's fascinating work as editor of his father's "life and letters," where you will find (vol. ii., p. ) a letter addressed, on the th of june, , to sir charles lyell by mr. darwin, who states that he had on that day received a communication from mr. wallace written from the celebes islands requesting that it might be sent to him (sir charles). in a covering letter mr. darwin pointed out that the enclosure contained a sketch of a theory of natural selection as depending on the struggle for existence so identical with one he himself entertained and fully described in ms. in that he never saw a more striking coincidence: had mr. wallace seen his sketch he could not have made a better short abstract, even his terms standing "as heads of chapters." he goes on to say that he would at once write to mr. wallace offering to send his ms. to any journal; and concludes: "so my originality is smashed, though my book [the forthcoming 'origin of species'], if it will have any value will not be deteriorated, as all know the labour consists in the application of the theory." after writing to sir charles lyell, mr. darwin informed me of mr. wallace's letter and its enclosure, in a similar strain, only more explicitly announcing his resolve to abandon all claim to priority for his own sketch. i could not but protest against such a course, no doubt reminding him that i had read it and that sir charles knew its contents some years before the arrival of mr. wallace's letter; and that our withholding our knowledge of its priority would be unjustifiable. i further suggested the simultaneous publication of the two, and offered--should he agree to such a compromise--to write to mr. wallace fully informing him of the motives of the course adopted. in answer mr. darwin thanked me warmly for my offer to explain all to mr. wallace, and in a later letter he informed me that he was disposed to look favourably on my suggested compromise, but that before making up his mind he desired a second opinion as to whether he could honourably claim priority, and that he proposed applying to sir charles lyell for this. i need not say that this was a relief to me, knowing as i did what sir charles's answer must be. in vol. ii., pp. - , of the "life and letters," mr. darwin's application to sir charles lyell is given, dated june th, with a postscript dated june th. in it he requests that the answer shall be sent to me to be forwarded to himself. i have no recollection of reading the answer, which is not to be found either in darwin's or my own correspondence; it was no doubt satisfactory. further action was now left in the hands of sir charles and myself, we all agreeing that, whatever action was taken, the result should be offered for publication to the linnean society. on june th mr. darwin wrote to me in acute distress, being himself very ill, and scarlet fever raging in the family, to which one infant son had succumbed on the previous day, and a daughter was ill with diphtheria. he acknowledged the receipt of the letter from me, adding, "i cannot think now of the subject, but soon will: you shall hear as soon as i can think"; and on the night of the same day he writes again, telling me that he is quite prostrated and can do nothing but send certain papers for which i had asked as essential for completing the prefatory statement to the communication to the linnean society of mr. wallace's essay.... the communications were read, as was the custom in those days, by the secretary to the society. mr. darwin himself, owing to his illness and distress, could not be present. sir charles lyell and myself said a few words to emphasise the importance of the subject, but, as recorded in the "life and letters" (vol. ii., p. ), although intense interest was excited, no discussion took place: "the subject was too novel, too ominous, for the old school to enter the lists before armouring." ... it must also be noticed that for the detailed history given above there is no documentary evidence beyond what francis darwin has produced in the "life and letters." there are no letters from lyell relating to it, not even answers to mr. darwin's of the th, th, and th of june; and sir leonard lyell has at my request very kindly but vainly searched his uncle's correspondence for any relating to this subject beyond the two above mentioned. there are none of my letters to either lyell or darwin, nor other evidence of their having existed beyond the latter's acknowledgment of the receipt of some of them; and, most surprising of all, mr. wallace's letter and its enclosure have disappeared. such is my recollection of this day, the fiftieth anniversary of which we are now celebrating, and of the fortnight that immediately preceded it. it remains for me to ask your forgiveness for intruding upon your time and attention with the half-century-old real or fancied memories of a nonagenarian as contributions to the history of the most notable event in the annals of biology that had followed the appearance in of the "systema naturæ" of linnæus. following sir j. hooker, the president, referring to prof. haeckel, who was unable to be present, said that he was "the great apostle of the darwin-wallace theory in germany ... his enthusiastic and gallant advocacy [having] chiefly contributed to its success in that country.... a man of world-wide reputation, the leader on the continent of the 'old guard' of evolutionary biologists, prof. haeckel was one whom the linnean society delighted to honour." two more german scientists were honoured with the medal, namely prof. august weismann (who was also absent), and prof. eduard strasburger, the latter paying a special tribute to wallace in saying: "when i was young the investigations and the thought of alfred russel wallace brought me a great stimulus. through his 'malay archipelago' a new world of scientific knowledge was unfolded before me. on this occasion i feel it my duty to proclaim it with gratitude." the medal was then presented to sir francis galton, who delivered a notable speech in responding. the last on this occasion to receive the medal was sir e. ray lankester, who, in replying to the president's graceful speech, referred to the happy relationships which had existed between the contemporary men of science of his own time, but with special reference to darwin and wallace he said: never was there a more beautiful example of modesty, of unselfish admiration for another's work, of loyal determination that the other should receive the full merit of his independent labours and thoughts, than was shown by charles darwin on that occasion.... subsequently, throughout all their arduous work and varied publications upon the great doctrine which they on that day unfolded to humanity ... the same complete absence of rivalry characterised these high-minded englishmen, even when in some outcomes of their doctrine they were not in perfect agreement.... i think i am able to say that great as was the interest excited by the new doctrine in the scientific world, and wild and angry as was the opposition to it in some quarters, few, if any, who took part in the scenes attending the birth and earlier reception of darwin's "origin of species" had a prevision of the enormous and all-important influence which that doctrine was destined to exercise upon every line of human thought.... it is in its application to the problems of human society that there still remains an enormous field of work and discovery for the darwin-wallace doctrine. in the special branch of study which wallace himself set going--the inquiry into the local variations, races, and species of insects as evidence of descent with modification, and of the mechanism by which that modification is brought about--there is still great work in progress, still an abundant field to be reaped.... several able observers and experimenters have set themselves the task of improving, if possible, the theoretical structure raised by darwin and wallace.... but i venture to express the opinion that they have none of them resulted in any serious modification of the great doctrine submitted to the linnean society on july st, , by charles darwin and alfred russel wallace. not only do the main lines of the theory of darwin and wallace remain unchanged, but the more it is challenged by new suggestions and new hypotheses the more brilliantly do the novelty, the importance, and the permanent value of the work by those great men, to-day commemorated by us, shine forth as the one great epoch-making effort of human thought on this subject. sir francis darwin and sir william thiselton-dyer spoke on behalf of schools which had sent representatives to the meeting; prof. lönnberg and sir archibald geikie on behalf of the academies and societies; while lord avebury delivered the concluding address. any summary of this period in the lives of darwin and wallace would be incomplete without some distinct reference to one other name, namely, that of herbert spencer, whom i have linked with them in the introduction. while we owe to darwin and wallace a definite theory of organic development, it must be remembered that spencer included this in the general scheme of evolution which grew as slowly but surely in his mind--and as independently as did that of the origin of species in the minds of darwin and wallace. huxley recalls: "within the ranks of biologists, at that time, i met with nobody except dr. grant, of university college, who had a word to say for evolution--and his advocacy was not calculated to advance the cause. outside these ranks, the only person known to me whose knowledge and capacity compelled respect, and who was, at the same time, a thorough-going evolutionist, was mr. herbert spencer.... many and prolonged were the battles we fought on this topic.... i took my stand upon two grounds: first, that up to that time the evidence in favour of transmutation was wholly insufficient; and, secondly, that no suggestions respecting the causes of the transmutations assumed ... were in any war adequate to explain the phenomena. looking back at the state of knowledge at that time, i really do not see that any other conclusion was justifiable."[ ] and prof. raphael meldola, in a lecture on evolution wherein he compares the impression left by each of these great founders of that school upon the current of modern thought, says: "through all ... his [spencer's] writings the underlying idea of development can be traced with increasing depth and breadth, expanding in in his 'social statics' to a foreshadowing of the general doctrine of evolution. in his views on organic evolution had become so definite that he gave public expression to them in that well-known and powerful essay on 'the development hypothesis.' ... in the 'principles of psychology,' the first edition of which was published in , the evolutionary principle was dominant. by --the year of the announcement of natural selection by darwin and wallace--he had conceived the great general scheme and had sketched out the first draft of the prospectus of the synthetic philosophy, the final and amended syllabus [being] issued in . the work of darwin and spencer from that period, although moving along independent lines, was directed towards the same end, notwithstanding the diversity of materials which they made use of and the differences in their methods of attack; that end was the establishment of evolution as a great natural principle or law."[ ] in this connection it is especially interesting to note how near spencer had come to the conception of natural selection without grasping its full significance. in an article on a "theory of population" (published in the _westminster review_ for april, ) he wrote: "and here, indeed, without further illustration, it will be seen that premature death, under all its forms and from all its causes, cannot fail to work in the same direction. for as those prematurely carried off must, in the average of cases, be those in whom the power of self-preservation is the least, it unavoidably follows that those left behind to continue the race must be those in whom the power of self-preservation is the greatest--must be the select of their generation. so that whether the dangers of existence be of the kind produced by excess of fertility, or of any other kind, it is clear that by the ceaseless exercise of the faculties needed to contend with them, and by the death of all men who fail to contend with them successfully, there is ensured a constant progress towards a higher degree of skill, intelligence, self-regulation--a better co-ordinance of actions--a more complete life." up to the period of the publication of the "origin of species" and the first conception of the scheme of the synthetic philosophy there had been no communication between darwin and spencer beyond the presentation by spencer of a copy of his essays to darwin in , which was duly acknowledged. but by the time the "origin of species" had been before the public for eight years, the darwinian principle of selection had become an integral part of the spencerian mechanism of organic evolution. indeed the term "survival of the fittest," approved by both darwin and wallace as an alternative for "natural selection," was, as is well known, introduced by spencer. wallace's relations with spencer, though somewhat controversial at times, were nevertheless cordial and sympathetic. in "my life" he tells of his first visit, and the impression left upon his mind by their conversation. it occurred somewhere about - , shortly after he and bates had read, and been greatly impressed by, spencer's "first principles." "our thoughts," he says, "were full of the great unsolved problem of the origin of life--a problem which darwin's 'origin of species' left in as much obscurity as ever--and we looked to spencer as the one man living who could give us some clue to it. his wonderful exposition of the fundamental laws and conditions, actions and interactions of the material universe seemed to penetrate so deeply into that 'nature of things' after which the early philosophers searched in vain ... that we hoped he would throw some light on that great problem of problems.... he was very pleasant, spoke appreciatively of what we had both done for the practical exposition of evolution, and hoped we would continue to work at the subject. but when we touched upon the great problem, and whether he had arrived at even one of the first steps towards its solution, our hopes were dashed at once. that, he said, was too fundamental a problem to even think of solving at present. we did not yet know enough of matter in its essential constitution nor of the various forces of nature; and all he could say was that everything pointed to its having been a development out of matter--a phase of that continuous process of evolution by which the whole universe had been brought to its present condition. and so we had to wait and work contentedly at minor problems. and now, after forty years, though spencer and darwin and weismann have thrown floods of light on the phenomena of life, its essential nature and its origin remain as great a mystery as ever. whatever light we do possess is from a source which spencer and darwin neglected or ignored."[ ] in his presidential address to the entomological society in wallace made some special allusion to spencer's theory of the origin of instincts, and on receiving a copy of the address spencer wrote: "it is gratifying to me to find that your extended knowledge does not lead you to scepticism respecting the speculation of mine which you quote, but rather enables you to cite further facts in justification of it. possibly your exposition will lead some of those, in whose lines of investigation the question lies, to give deliberate attention to it." a further proof of his confidence was shown by asking wallace (in ) to look over the proofs of the first six chapters of his "principles of sociology" in order that he might have the benefit of his criticisms alike as naturalist, anthropologist, and traveller. this brief reference to the illustrious group of men to whom we owe the foundations of this new epoch of evolutionary thought--and not the foundations only, but also the patient building up of the structure upon which each one continued to perform his allotted task--and the prefatory notes and the footnotes attached to the letters will serve to elucidate the historical correspondence between darwin and wallace which follows. part ii (_continued_) ii.--the complete extant correspondence between wallace and darwin [ -- ] "i hope it is a satisfaction to you to reflect--and very few things in my life have been more satisfactory to me--that we have never felt any jealousy towards each other, though in some senses rivals. i believe i can say this of myself with truth, and i am absolutely sure that it is true of you."--darwin to wallace. "to have thus inspired and retained this friendly feeling, notwithstanding our many differences of opinion, i feel to be one of the greatest honours of my life."--wallace to darwin. "i think the way he [wallace] carries on controversy is perfectly beautiful, and in future histories of science the wallace-darwin episode will form one of the few bright points among rival claimants."--erasmus darwin to his niece, henrietta darwin, . the first eight letters from darwin to wallace were found amongst the latter's papers, carefully preserved in an envelope on the outside of which he had written the words reproduced on the next page. neither wallace's part of this correspondence, nor the original ms. of his essay "on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type," which he sent to darwin from ternate, has been discovered. but these eight letters from darwin explain themselves and reveal the inner story of the independent discovery of the theory of natural selection. with respect to the letters which follow the first eight, both sides of the correspondence, with few exceptions, have been brought together. some of the letters have already appeared in "the life and letters of charles darwin" and "more letters," others in "my life," by a.r. wallace, whilst many have not before been published. some of these letters, in themselves, have little more than ephemeral interest, and parts of other letters could have been eliminated, from the point of view of lightening this volume and of economising the reader's attention. but i decided, with the fullest approval of the wallace and darwin families, that the letters of these illustrious correspondents should be here presented as a whole, without mutilation. [illustration: facsimile of inscription by wallace on the envelope in which he kept the first eight letters he received from darwin.] many of the notes of explanation to the wallace letters have been gathered from his own writings, and are mainly in his own words, and in such cases the reader has the advantage of perusing letters annotated by their author, while most of the notes to the darwin letters are by sir f. darwin. * * * * * letter i c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent, may , ._ my dear sir,--i am much obliged for your letter of oct. th from celebes, received a few days ago: in a laborious undertaking, sympathy is a valuable and real encouragement. by your letter, and even still more by your paper in the _annals_,[ ] a year or more ago, i can plainly see that we have thought much alike and to a certain extent have come to similar conclusions. in regard to the paper in the _annals_, i agree to the truth of almost every word of your paper; and i daresay that you will agree with me that it is very rare to find oneself agreeing pretty closely with any theoretical paper; for it is lamentable how each man draws his own different conclusions from the very same fact. this summer will make the twentieth year (!) since i opened my first note-book on the question how and in what way do species and varieties differ from each other. i am now preparing my work for publication, but i find the subject so very large, that though i have written many chapters, i do not suppose i shall go to press for two years. i have never heard how long you intend staying in the malay archipelago; i wish i might profit by the publication of your travels there before my work appears, for no doubt you will reap a large harvest of facts. i have acted already in accordance with your advice of keeping domestic varieties, and those appearing in a state of nature, distinct; but i have sometimes doubted of the wisdom of this, and therefore i am glad to be backed by your opinion. i must confess, however, i rather doubt the truth of the now very prevalent doctrine of all our domestic animals having descended from several wild stocks; though i do not doubt that it is so in some cases. i think there is rather better evidence on the sterility of hybrid animals than you seem to admit: and in regard to plants, the collection of carefully recorded facts by kölreuter and gaertner (and herbert) is _enormous_. i most entirely agree with you on the little effect of "climatic conditions" which one sees referred to _ad nauseam_ in all books: i suppose some very little effect must be attributed to such influences, but i fully believe that they are very slight. it is really _impossible_ to explain my views in the compass of a letter as to causes and means of variation in a state of nature; but i have slowly adopted a distinct and tangible idea--whether true or false others must judge; for the firmest conviction of the truth of a doctrine by its author seems, alas, not to be the slightest guarantee of truth. i have been rather disappointed at my results in the poultry line; but if you should, after receiving this, stumble on any curious domestic breed, i should be very glad to have it; but i can plainly see that the result will not be at all worth the trouble which i have taken. the case is different with the domestic pigeons; from its study i have learned much. the rajah has sent me some of his pigeons and fowls and _cats'_ skins from the interior of borneo and from singapore. can you tell me positively that black jaguars or leopards are believed generally or always to pair with black? i do not think colour of offspring good evidence. is the case of parrots fed on fat of fish turning colour mentioned in your travels? i remember a case of parrots with (i think) poison from some toad put into hollow whence primaries had been removed. one of the subjects on which i have been experimenting, and which cost me much trouble, is the means of distribution of all organic beings found on oceanic islands; and any facts on this subject would be most gratefully received. land-molluscs are a great perplexity to me. this is a very dull letter, but i am a good deal out of health, and am writing this, not from my home, as dated, but from a water-cure establishment. with most sincere good wishes for your success in every way, i remain, my dear sir, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * letter ii c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent. december , ._ my dear sir,--i thank you for your letter of sept. th. i am extremely glad to hear that you are attending to distribution in accordance with theoretical ideas. i am a firm believer that without speculation there is no good and original observation. few travellers have attended to such points as you are now at work on; and indeed the whole subject of distribution of animals is dreadfully behind that of plants. you say that you have been somewhat surprised at no notice having been taken of your paper in the _annals_. i cannot say that i am; for so very few naturalists care for anything beyond the mere description of species. but you must not suppose that your paper has not been attended to: two very good men, sir c. lyell, and mr. e. blyth at calcutta, specially called my attention to it. though agreeing with you on your conclusions in the paper, i believe i go much further than you; but it is too long a subject to enter on my speculative notions. i have not yet seen your paper on distribution of animals in the aru islands: i shall read it with the _utmost_ interest; for i think that the most interesting quarter of the whole globe in respect to distribution; and i have long been very imperfectly trying to collect data from the malay archipelago. i shall be quite prepared to subscribe to your doctrine of subsidence: indeed from the quite independent evidence of the coral reefs i coloured my original map in my coral volumes colours [_sic_] of the aru islands as one of subsidence, but got frightened and left it uncoloured. but i can see that you are inclined to go _much_ further than i am in regard to the former connection of oceanic islands with continents. ever since poor e. forbes propounded this doctrine, it has been eagerly followed; and hooker elaborately discusses the former connection of all the antarctic islands and new zealand and south america. about a year ago i discussed the subject much with lyell and hooker (for i shall have to treat of it) and wrote out my arguments in opposition; but you will be glad to hear that neither lyell nor hooker thought much of my arguments; nevertheless, for once in my life i dare withstand the almost preternatural sagacity of lyell. you ask about land-shells on islands far distant from continents: madeira has a few identical with those of europe, and here the evidence is really good, as some of them are sub-fossil. in the pacific islands there are cases of identity, which i cannot at present persuade myself to account for by introduction through man's agency; although dr. aug. gould has conclusively shown that many land-shells have thus been distributed over the pacific by man's agency. these cases of introduction are most plaguing. have you not found it so in the malay archipelago? it has seemed to me, in the lists of mammals of timor and other islands, that _several_ in all probability have been naturalised. since writing before, i have experimented a little on some land-molluscs, and have found sea-water not quite so deadly as i anticipated. you ask whether i shall discuss man: i think i shall avoid the whole subject, as so surrounded with prejudices, though i fully admit that it is the highest and most interesting problem for the naturalist. my work, on which i have now been at work more or less for twenty years, will _not_ fix or settle anything; but i hope it will aid by giving a large collection of facts with one definite end. i get on very slowly, partly from ill-health, partly from being a very slow worker. i have got about half written; but i do not suppose i shall publish under a couple of years. i have now been three whole months on one chapter on hybridism! i am astonished to see that you expect to remain out three or four years more: what a wonderful deal you will have seen; and what an interesting area, the grand malay archipelago and the richest parts of south america! i infinitely admire and honour your zeal and courage in the good cause of natural science; and you have my very sincere and cordial good wishes for success of all kinds; and may all your theories succeed, except that on oceanic islands, on which subject i will do battle to the death.--pray believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * letter iii c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent. january , ._ my dear sir,--i was extremely much pleased at receiving three days ago your letter to me and that to dr. hooker. permit me to say how heartily i admire the spirit in which they are written. though i had absolutely nothing whatever to do in leading lyell and hooker to what they thought a fair course of action, yet i naturally could not but feel anxious to hear what your impression would be. i owe indirectly much to you and them; for i almost think that lyell would have proved right and i should never have completed my larger work, for i have found my abstract[ ] hard enough with my poor health; but now, thank god, i am in my last chapter but one. my abstract will make a small volume of or pages. whenever published, i will of course send you a copy, and then you will see what i mean about the part which i believe selection has played with domestic productions. it is a very different part, as you suppose, from that played by "natural selection." i sent off, by same address as this note, a copy of the _journal of the linnean society_, and subsequently i have sent some half-dozen copies of the paper. i have many other copies at your disposal; and i sent two to your friend dr. davies (?), author of works on men's skulls. i am glad to hear that you have been attending to birds' nests; i have done so, though almost exclusively under one point of view, viz. to show that instincts vary, so that selection could work on and improve them. few other instincts, so to speak, can be preserved in a museum. many thanks for your offer to look after horses' stripes; if there are any donkeys', pray add them. i am delighted to hear that you have collected bees' combs; when next in london i will inquire of f. smith and mr. saunders. this is an especial hobby of mine, and i think i can throw light on the subject. if you can collect duplicates at no very great expense, i should be glad of specimens for myself, with some bees of each kind. young growing and irregular combs, and those which have not had pupæ, are most valuable for measurements and examination; their edges should be well protected against abrasion. everyone whom i have seen has thought your paper very well written and interesting. it puts my extracts (written in , now just twenty years ago!), which i must say in apology were never for an instant intended for publication, in the shade. you ask about lyell's frame of mind. i think he is somewhat staggered, but does not give in, and speaks with horror often to me of what a thing it would be and what a job it would be for the next edition of the principles if he were "perverted." but he is most candid and honest, and i think will end by being perverted. dr. hooker has become almost as heterodox as you or i--and i look at hooker as _by far_ the most capable judge in europe. most cordially do i wish you health and entire success in all your pursuits; and god knows, if admirable zeal and energy deserve success, most amply do you deserve it. i look at my own career as nearly run out; if i can publish my abstract, and perhaps my greater work on the same subject, i shall look at my course as done.--believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * letter iv c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent. april , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i this morning received your pleasant and friendly note of nov. th. the first part of my ms.[ ] is in murray's hands, to see if he likes to publish it. there is no preface, but a short introduction, which must be read by everyone who reads my book. the second paragraph in the introduction[ ] i have had copied _verbatim_ from my foul copy, and you will, i hope, think that i have fairly noticed your papers in the _linnean transactions_.[ ] you must remember that i am now publishing only an abstract, and i give no references. i shall of course allude to your paper on distribution;[ ] and i have added that i know from correspondence that your explanation of your law is the same as that which i offer. you are right, that i came to the conclusion that selection was the principle of change from study of domesticated productions; and then reading malthus i saw at once how to apply this principle. geographical distribution and geographical relations of extinct to recent inhabitants of south america first led me to the subject. especially the case of the galapagos islands. i hope to go to press in early part of next month. it will be a small volume of about pages or so. i will, of course, send you a copy. i forget whether i told you that hooker, who is our best british botanist, and perhaps the best in the world, is a _full_ convert, and is now going immediately to publish his confession of faith; and i expect daily to see the proof-sheets. huxley is changed and believes in mutation of species: whether a _convert_ to us, i do not quite know. we shall live to see all the _younger_ men converts. my neighbour and excellent naturalist, j. lubbock, is an enthusiastic convert. i see by natural history notices that you are doing great work in the archipelago; and most heartily do i sympathise with you. for god's sake take care of your health. there have been few such noble labourers in the cause of natural science as you are. farewell, with every good wish.--yours sincerely, c. darwin. p.s.--you cannot tell how i admire your spirit, in the manner in which you have taken all that was done about publishing our papers. i had actually written a letter to you, stating that i would _not_ publish anything before you had published. i had not sent that letter to the post when i received one from lyell and hooker, _urging_ me to send some ms. to them, and allow them to act as they thought fair and honourably to both of us. i did so. * * * * * letter v c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent. august , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i received your letter and memoir[ ] on the th, and will forward it to-morrow to the linnean society. but you will be aware that there is no meeting till beginning of november. your paper seems to me _admirable_ in matter, style and reasoning; and i thank you for allowing me to read it. had i read it some months ago i should have profited by it for my forthcoming volume. but my two chapters on this subject are in type; and though not yet corrected, i am so wearied out and weak in health that i am fully resolved not to add one word, and merely improve style. so you will see that my views are nearly the same with yours, and you may rely on it that not one word shall be altered owing to my having read your ideas. are you aware that mr. w. earl published several years ago the view of distribution of animals in the malay archipelago in relation to the depth of the sea between the islands? i was much struck with this, and have been in habit of noting all facts on distribution in the archipelago and elsewhere in this relation. i have been led to conclude that there has been a good deal of naturalisation in the different malay islands, and which i have thought to certain extent would account for anomalies. timor has been my greatest puzzle. what do you say to the peculiar _felis_ there? i wish that you had visited timor: it has been asserted that a fossil mastodon or elephant's tooth (i forget which) had been found there, which would be a grand fact. i was aware that celebes was very peculiar; but the relation to africa is quite new to me and marvellous, and almost passes belief. it is as anomalous as the relation of plants in south-west australia to the cape of good hope. i differ _wholly_ from you on colonisation of _oceanic_ islands, but you will have _everyone_ else on your side. i quite agree with respect to all islands not situated far in ocean. i quite agree on little occasional internavigation between lands when once pretty well stocked with inhabitants, but think this does not apply to rising and ill-stocked islands. are you aware that _annually_ birds are blown to madeira, to azores (and to bermuda from america). i wish i had given fuller abstract of my reasons for not believing in forbes's great continental extensions; but it is too late, for i will alter nothing. i am worn out, and must have rest. owen, i do not doubt, will bitterly oppose us; but i regard that very little, as he is a poor reasoner and deeply considers the good opinion of the world, especially the aristocratic world. hooker is publishing a grand introduction to the flora of australia, and goes the whole length. i have seen proofs of about half.--with every good wish, believe me yours very sincerely, c. darwin. excuse this brief note, but i am far from well. * * * * * letter vi c. darwin to a.r. wallace _ilkley. november , ._ my dear sir,--i have told murray to send you by post (if possible) a copy of my book, and i hope that you will receive it at nearly the same time with this note. (n.b.--i have got a bad finger, which makes me write extra badly.) if you are so inclined, i should very much like to hear your general impression of the book, as you have thought so profoundly on the subject and in so nearly the same channel with myself. i hope there will be some little new to you, but i fear not much. remember, it is only an abstract, and very much condensed. god knows what the public will think. no one has read it, except lyell, with whom i have had much correspondence. hooker thinks him a complete convert, but he does not seem so in his letters to me. but he is evidently deeply interested in the subject. i do not think your share in the theory will be overlooked by the real judges, as hooker, lyell, asa gray, etc. i have heard from mr. sclater that your paper on the malay archipelago has been read at the linnean society, and that he was _extremely_ much interested by it. i have not seen one naturalist for six or nine months owing to the state of my health, and therefore i really have no news to tell you. i am writing this at ilkley wells, where i have been with my family for the last six weeks, and shall stay for some few weeks longer. as yet i have profited very little. god knows when i shall have strength for my bigger book. i sincerely hope that you keep your health: i suppose that you will be thinking of returning soon with your magnificent collection and still grander mental materials. you will be puzzled how to publish. the royal society fund will be worth your consideration.--with every good wish, pray believe me yours very sincerely, charles darwin. i think that i told you before that hooker is a complete convert. if i can convert huxley i shall be content. * * * * * letter vii c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent, s.e. march , ._ my dear wallace,--the addresses which you have sent me are capital, especially that to the rajah; and i have dispatched two sets of queries. i now enclose a copy to you, and should be very glad of any answers; you must not suppose the p.s. about memory has lately been inserted; please return these queries, as it is my standard copy. the subject is a curious one; i fancy i shall make a rather interesting appendix to my essay on man. i fully admit the probability of "protective adaptation" having come into play with female butterflies as well as with female birds. i have a good many facts which make me believe in sexual selection as applied to man, but whether i shall convince anyone else is very doubtful.--dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * letter viii c. darwin to a.r. wallace _down, bromley, kent. may , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i received this morning your letter from amboyna dated feb. th, containing some remarks and your too high approbation of my book. your letter has pleased me very much, and i most completely agree with you on the parts which are strongest and which are weakest. the imperfection of the geological record is, as you say, the weakest of all; but yet i am pleased to find that there are almost more geological converts than of pursuers of other branches of natural science. i may mention lyell, ramsay, jukes, rogers, keyerling, all good men and true. pictet of geneva is not a convert, but is evidently staggered (as i think is bronn of heidelberg), and he has written a perfectly fair review in the _bib. universelle_ of geneva. old bronn has translated my book, well done also into german, and his well-known name will give it circulation. i think geologists are more converted than simple naturalists because more accustomed to reasoning. before telling you about the progress of opinion on the subject, you must let me say how i admire the generous manner in which you speak of my book: most persons would in your position have felt bitter envy and jealousy. how nobly free you seem to be of this common failing of mankind. but you speak far too modestly of yourself; you would, if you had had my leisure, have done the work just as well, perhaps better, than i have done it. talking of envy, you never read anything more envious and spiteful (with numerous misrepresentations) than owen is in the _edinburgh review_. i must give one instance; he throws doubts and sneers at my saying that the ovigerous frena of cirripedes have been converted into branchiæ, because i have not found them to be branchiæ; whereas _he himself_ admits, before i wrote on cirripedes, without the least hesitation, that their organs are branchiæ. the attacks have been heavy and incessant of late. sedgwick and prof. clarke attacked me savagely at the cambridge philosophical society, but henslow defended me well, though not a convert. phillips has since attacked me in a lecture at cambridge; sir w. jardine in the _edinburgh new philosophical journal_, wollaston in the _annals of nat. history_, a. murray before the royal soc. of edinburgh, haughton at the geological society of dublin, dawson in the _canadian nat. magazine_, and _many others_. but i am getting case-hardened, and all these attacks will make me only more determinedly fight. agassiz sends me personal civil messages, but incessantly attacks me; but asa gray fights like a hero in defence. lyell keeps as firm as a tower, and this autumn will publish on the geological history of man, and will then declare his conversion, which now is universally known. i hope that you have received hooker's splendid essay. so far is bigotry carried that i can name three botanists who will not even read hooker's essay!! here is a curious thing: a mr. pat. matthews, a scotchman, published in a work on naval timber and arboriculture, and in the appendix to this he gives _most clearly_ but very briefly in half-dozen paragraphs our view of natural selection. it is a most complete case of anticipation. he published extracts in the _gardeners' chronicle_. i got the book, and have since published a letter acknowledging that i am fairly forestalled. yesterday i heard from lyell that a german, dr. schaffhausen, has sent him a pamphlet published some years ago, in which the same view is nearly anticipated, but i have not yet seen this pamphlet. my brother, who is a very sagacious man, always said, "you will find that someone will have been before you." i am at work at my larger work, which i shall publish in separate volumes. but for ill-health and swarms of letters i get on very, very slowly. i hope that i shall not have wearied you with these details. [illustration: a.r. wallace soon after his return from the east] with sincere thanks for your letter, and with most deeply-felt wishes for your success in science and in every way, believe me your sincere well-wisher, c. darwin. * * * * * of the letters from wallace to darwin which have been preserved, the earliest is the following: _ westbourne grove terrace, w. april , ._ my dear mr. darwin,--i was much pleased to receive your note this morning. i have not yet begun work, but hope to be soon busy. as i am being doctored a little i do not think i shall be able to accept your kind invitation at present, but trust to be able to do so during the summer. i beg you to accept a wild honeycomb from the island of timor, not quite perfect but the best i could get. it is of a small size, but of characteristic form, and i think will be interesting to you. i was quite unable to get the honey out of it, so fear you will find it somewhat in a mess; but no doubt you will know how to clean it. i have told stevens to send it to you. hoping your health is now quite restored and with best wishes, i remain, my dear mr. darwin, yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. may , ._ my dear mr. darwin,--many thanks for your most interesting book on the orchids. i have read it through most attentively, and have really been quite as much staggered by the wonderful adaptations you show to exist in them as by the _eye_ in animals or any other complicated organs. i long to get into the country and have a look at some orchids guided by your new lights, but i have been now for ten days confined to my room with what is disagreeable though far from dangerous--boils. i have been reading several of the reviews on the "origin," and it seems to me that you have assisted those who want to criticise you by your overstating the difficulties and objections. several of them quote your own words as the strongest arguments against you. i think you told me owen wrote the article in the _quarterly_. this seems to me hardly credible, as he speaks so much of owen, quotes him as such a great authority, and i believe even calls him a profound philosopher, etc. etc. would owen thus speak of himself? trusting your health is good, i remain, my dear mr. darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. may , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i write one line to thank you for your note and to say that the bishop of oxford[ ] wrote the _quarterly review_ (paid £ ), aided by owen. in the _edinburgh_ owen no doubt praised himself. mr. maw's review in the _zoologist_ is one of the best, and staggered me in parts, for i did not see the sophistry of parts. i could lend you any which you might wish to see; but you would soon be tired. hopkins and pictet in france are two of the best. i am glad you approve of my little orchid book; but it has not been worth, i fear, the ten months it has cost me: it was a hobby-horse, and so beguiled me. i am sorry to hear that you are suffering from boils; i have often had fearful crops: i hope that the doctors are right in saying that they are serviceable. how puzzled you must be to know what to begin at. you will do grand work, i do not doubt. my health is, and always will be, very poor: i am that miserable animal a regular valetudinarian.--yours very sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. august , ._ my dear mr. darwin,--i sincerely trust that your little boy is by this time convalescent, and that you are therefore enabled to follow your favourite investigations with a more tranquil mind. i heard a remark the other day which may not perhaps be new to you, but seemed to me a fact, if true, in your favour. mr. ward (i think it was), a member of the microscopical society, mentioned as a fact noticed by himself with much surprise that "the muscular fibres of the whale were no larger than those of the bee!"--an excellent indication of community of origin. while looking at the ostriches the other day at the gardens, it occurred to me that they were a case of special difficulty, as, inhabiting an ancient continent, surrounded by numerous enemies, how did their wings ever become abortive, and if they did so before the birds had attained their present gigantic size, strength and speed, how could they in the transition have maintained their existence? i see westwood in the _annals_ brings forward the same case, arguing that the ostriches should have acquired better wings within the historic period; but as they are now the swiftest of animals they evidently do not want their wings, which in their present state may serve some other trifling purpose in their economy such as fans, or balancers, which may have prevented their being reduced to such rudiments as in the cassowaries. the difficulty to me seems to be, how, if they once had flight, could they have lost it, surrounded by swift and powerful carnivora against whom it must have been the only defence? this probably is all clear to you, but i think it is a point you might touch upon, as i think the objection will seem a strong one to most people. in a day or two i go to devonshire for a few weeks and hope to lay in a stock of health to enable me to stick to work at my collections during the winter. i begin to find that large collections involve a heavy amount of manual labour which is not very agreeable. present my compliments to mrs. and miss darwin, and believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ carlton terrace, southampton. august , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--you will not be surprised that i have been slow in answering when i tell you that my poor boy[ ] became frightfully worse after you were at down; and that during our journey to bournemouth he had a slight relapse here and my wife took the scarlet fever rather severely. she is over the crisis. i have had a horrid time of it, and god only knows when we shall be all safe at home again--half my family are at bournemouth. i have given a piece of the comb from timor to a mr. woodbury (who is working at the subject), and he is _extremely_ interested by it (i was sure the specimen would be valuable) and has requested me to ascertain whether the bee (_a. testacea_) is domesticated when it makes its combs. will you kindly inform me? your remarks on ostriches have interested me, and i have alluded to the case in the third edition. the difficulty does not seem to me so great as to you. think of bustards, which inhabit wide open plains, and which so seldom take flight: a very little increase in size of body would make them incapable of flight. the idea of ostriches acquiring flight is worthy of westwood; think of the food required in these inhabitants of the desert to work the pectoral muscles! in the rhea the wings seem of considerable service in the first start and in turning.[ ] ... * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. september , ._ my dear mr. darwin,--many thanks for the third edition of the "origin," which i found here on my return from devonshire on saturday. i have not had time yet to read more than the historical sketch, which is very interesting, and shows that the time had quite come for your book. i am now reading herbert spencer's "first principles," which seems to me a truly great work, which goes to the root of everything. i hope you will be well enough to come to cambridge. i remain, my dear mr. darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. january [ ?]._ my dear mr. darwin,--i am very sorry indeed to hear you are still in weak health. have you ever tried mountain air? a residence at , or , ft. elevation is very invigorating. i trust your family are now all in good health, and that you may be spared any anxiety on that score for some time. if you come to town i shall hope to have the pleasure of seeing you. i am now in much better health, but find sudden changes of weather affect me very much, bringing on ague and fever fits. i am now working a little, but having fresh collections still arriving from correspondents in the east, it is principally the drudgery of cleaning, packing, and arrangement. on the opposite page i give all the information i can about the timor fossils, so that you can send it entire to dr. falconer. with best wishes for the speedy recovery of your health, i remain, my dear mr. darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. january , ._ dear wallace,--i am still unable to write otherwise than by dictation. in a letter received two or three weeks ago from asa gray he writes: "i read lately with gusto wallace's exposé of the dublin man on bee cells, etc."[ ] now though i cannot read at present, i much want to know where this is published, that i may procure a copy. further on asa gray says (after speaking of agassiz's paper on glaciers in the _atlantic magazine_ and his recent book entitled "method of study"): "pray set wallace upon these articles." so asa gray seems to think much of your powers of reviewing, and i mention this as it assuredly is _laudari a laudato_. i hope you are hard at work, and if you are inclined to tell me i should much like to know what you are doing. it will be many months, i fear, before i shall do anything. pray believe me yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. january , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your kind letter. i was afraid to write because i heard such sad accounts of your health, but i am glad to find that you can write, and i presume read, by deputy. my little article on haughton's paper was published in the _annals of natural history_ about august or september last, i think, but i have not a copy to refer to. i am sure it does not deserve asa gray's praises, for though the matter may be true enough, the manner i know is very inferior. it was written hastily, and when i read it in the _annals_ i was rather ashamed of it, as i knew so many could have done it so much better. i will try and see agassiz's paper and book. what i have hitherto seen of his on glacial subjects seems very good, but in all his natural history _theories_, he seems so utterly wrong and so totally blind to the plainest deduction from facts, and at the same time so vague and obscure in his language, that it would be a very long and wearisome task to answer him. with regard to work, i am doing but little--i am afraid i have no good habit of systematic work. i have been gradually getting parts of my collections in order, but the obscurities of synonymy and descriptions, the difficulty of examining specimens, and my very limited library, make it wearisome work. i have been lately getting the first groups of my butterflies in order, and they offer some most interesting facts in variation and distribution--in variation some very puzzling ones. though i have very fine series of specimens, i find in many cases i want more; in fact if i could have afforded to have all my collections kept till my return i should, i think, have found it necessary to retain twice as many as i now have. i am at last making a beginning of a small book on my eastern journey, which, if i can persevere, i hope to have ready by next christmas. i am a very bad hand at writing anything like narrative. i want something to argue on, and then i find it much easier to go ahead. i rather despair, therefore, of making so good a book as bates's, though i think my subject is better. like every other traveller, i suppose, i feel dreadfully the want of copious notes on common everyday objects, sights and sounds and incidents, which i imagined i could never forget but which i now find it impossible to recall with any accuracy. i have just had a long and most interesting letter from my old companion spruce. he says he has had a letter from you about melastoma, but has not, he says, for three years seen a single melastomaceous plant! they are totally absent from the pacific plains of tropical america, though so abundant on the eastern plains. poor fellow, he seems to be in a worse state than you are. life has been a burden to him for three years owing to lung and heart disease, and rheumatism, brought on by exposure in high, hot, and cold damp valleys of the andes. he went down to the dry climate of the pacific coast to die more at ease, but the change improved him, and he thinks to come home, though he is sure he will not survive the first winter in england. he had never been able to get a copy of your book, though i am sure no one would have enjoyed or appreciated it more. if you are able to bear reading, will you allow me to take the liberty of recommending you a book? the fact is i have been so astonished and delighted with the perusal of spencer's works that i think it a duty to society to recommend them to all my friends who i think can appreciate them. the one i particularly refer to now is "social statics," a book which is by no means hard to read; it is even amusing, and owing to the wonderful clearness of its style may be read and understood by anyone. i think, therefore, as it is quite distinct from your special studies at present, you might consider it as "light literature," and i am pretty sure it would interest you more than a great deal of what is now considered very good. i am utterly astonished that so few people seem to read spencer, and the utter ignorance there seems to be among politicians and political economists of the grand views and logical stability of his works. he appears to me as far ahead of john stuart mill as j.s.m. is of the rest of the world, and, i may add, as darwin is of agassiz. the range of his knowledge is no less than its accuracy. his nebular hypothesis in the last volume of his essays is the most masterly astronomical paper i have ever read, and in his forthcoming volume on biology he is i understand going to show that there is something else besides natural selection at work in nature. so you must look out for a "foeman worthy of your steel"! but perhaps all this time you have read his books. if so, excuse me, and pray give me your opinion of him, as i have hitherto only met with one man (huxley) who has read and appreciated him. allow me to say in conclusion how much i regret that unavoidable circumstances have caused me to see so little of you since my return home, and how earnestly i pray for the speedy restoration of your health.--yours most sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _malvern wells. tuesday, march, ._ my dear mr. wallace,--your kindness is neverfailing. i got worse and worse at home and was sick every day for two months; so came here, when i suddenly broke down and could do nothing; but i hope i am now very slowly recovering, but am very weak. sincere thanks about melastoma: these flowers have baffled me, and i have caused several friends much useless labour; though, heaven knows, i have thrown away time enough on them myself. the gorse case is very valuable, and i will quote it, as i presume i may. i was very glad to see in the _reader_ that you have been giving a grand paper (as i infer from remarks in discussion) on geographical distribution. i am very weak, so will say no more.--yours very sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * in vol. i., p. , of the "life and letters of charles darwin," darwin states the circumstances which led to his writing the "descent of man." he says that his collection of facts, begun in or , was continued for many years without any definite idea of publishing on the subject. the letter to wallace of may , , in reply to the latter's of may , shows that in the period of ill-health and depression about he despaired of ever being able to do so. _ westbourne grove terrace, w. may , ._ my dear darwin,--i was very much gratified to hear by your letter of a month back that you were a little better, and i have since heard occasionally through huxley and lubbock that you are not worse. i sincerely hope the summer weather and repose may do you real good. the borneo cave exploration is to go on at present without a subscription. the new british consul who is going out to sarawak this month will undertake to explore some of the caves nearest the town, and if anything of interest is obtained a good large sum can no doubt be raised for a thorough exploration of the whole country. sir j. brooke will give every assistance, and will supply men for the preliminary work. i send you now my little contribution to the _theory_ of the origin of man. i hope you will be able to agree with me. if you are able, i shall be glad to have your criticisms. i was led to the subject by the necessity of explaining the vast mental and cranial differences between man and the apes combined with such small structural differences in other parts of the body, and also by an endeavour to account for the diversity of human races combined with man's almost perfect stability of form during all historical epochs. it has given me a settled opinion on these subjects, if nobody can show a fallacy in the argument. the anthropologicals did not seem to appreciate it much, but we had a long discussion which appears almost verbatim in the _anthropological review_.[ ] as the _linnean transactions_ will not be out till the end of the year i sent a pretty full abstract of the more interesting parts of my papilionidæ paper[ ] to the _reader_, which, as you say, is a splendid paper. trusting mrs. darwin and all your family are well, and that you are improving, believe me yours most sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent. may , ._ dear wallace,--i am so much better that i have just finished a paper for the linnean society; but as i am not yet at all strong i felt much disinclination to write, and therefore you must forgive me for not having sooner thanked you for your paper on man received on the th. but first let me say that i have hardly ever in my life been more struck by any paper than that on variation, etc. etc., in the _reader_. i feel sure that such papers will do more for the spreading of our views on the modification of species than any separate treatises on the single subject itself. it is really admirable; but you ought not in the man paper to speak of the theory as mine; it is just as much yours as mine. one correspondent has already noticed to me your "high-minded" conduct on this head. but now for your man paper, about which i should like to write more than i can. the great leading idea is quite new to me, viz. that during late ages the mind will have been modified more than the body; yet i had got as far as to see with you that the struggle between the races of man depended entirely on intellectual and _moral_ qualities. the latter part of the paper i can designate only as grand and most eloquently done. i have shown your paper to two or three persons who have been here, and they have been equally struck with it. i am not sure that i go with you on all minor points. when reading sir g. grey's account of the constant battles of australian savages, i remember thinking that natural selection would come in, and likewise with the esquimaux, with whom the art of fishing and managing canoes is said to be hereditary. i rather differ on the rank under the classificatory point of view which you assign to man: i do not think any character simply in excess ought ever to be used for the higher division. ants would not be separated from other hymenopterous insects, however high the instinct of the one and however low the instincts of the other. with respect to the differences of race, a conjecture has occurred to me that much may be due to the correlation of complexion (and consequently hair) with constitution. assume that a dusky individual best escaped miasma and you will readily see what i mean. i persuaded the director-general of the medical department of the army to send printed forms to the surgeons of all regiments in tropical countries to ascertain this point, but i daresay i shall never get any returns. secondly, i suspect that a sort of sexual selection has been the most powerful means of changing the races of man. i can show that the different races have a widely different standard of beauty. among savages the most powerful men will have the pick of the women, and they will generally leave the most descendants. i have collected a few notes on man, but i do not suppose i shall ever use them. do you intend to follow out your views, and if so would you like at some future time to have my few references and notes? i am sure i hardly know whether they are of any value, and they are at present in a state of chaos. there is much more that i should like to write but i have not strength.--believe me, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. our aristocracy is handsomer? (more hideous according to a chinese or negro) than the middle classes, from pick of women; but oh what a scheme is primogeniture for destroying natural selection! i fear my letter will be barely intelligible to you. * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. may [ ]._ my dear darwin,--you are always so ready to appreciate what others do, and especially to overestimate my desultory efforts, that i cannot be surprised at your very kind and flattering remarks on my papers. i am glad, however, that you have made a few critical observations, and am only sorry you were not well enough to make more, as that enables me to say a few words in explanation. my great fault is haste. an idea strikes me, i think over it for a few days, and then write away with such illustrations as occur to me while going on. i therefore look at the subject almost solely from one point of view. thus in my paper on man[ ] i aim solely at showing that brutes are modified in a _great variety_ of ways by natural selection, but that in _none of these particular_ ways can man be modified, because of the superiority of his intellect. i therefore no doubt overlook a few smaller points in which natural selection may still act on men and brutes alike. colour is one of them, and i have alluded to this in correlation to constitution in an abstract i have made at sclater's request for the _natural history review_.[ ] at the same time, there is so much evidence of migrations and displacements of races of man, and so many cases of peoples of distinct physical characters inhabiting the same or similar regions, and also of races of uniform physical characters inhabiting widely dissimilar regions, that the external characteristics of the chief races of man must i think be older than his present geographical distribution, and the modifications produced by correlation to favourable variations of constitution be only a secondary cause of external modification. i hope you may get the returns from the army. they would be very interesting, but i do not expect the results would be favourable to your view. with regard to the constant battles of savages leading to selection of physical superiority, i think it would be very imperfect, and subject to so many exceptions and irregularities that it could produce no _definite_ result. for instance, the strongest and bravest men would lead, and expose themselves most, and would therefore be most subject to wounds and death. and the physical energy which led to any one tribe delighting in war might lead to its extermination by inducing quarrels with all surrounding tribes and leading them to combine against it. again, superior cunning, stealth and swiftness of foot, or even better weapons, would often lead to victory as well as mere physical strength. moreover this kind of more or less perpetual war goes on among all savage peoples. it could lead therefore to no differential characters, but merely to the keeping up of a certain average standard of bodily and mental health and vigour. so with selection of variations adapted to special habits of life, as fishing, paddling, riding, climbing, etc. etc., in different races: no doubt it must act to some extent, but will it be ever so rigid as to induce a definite physical modification, and can we imagine it to have had any part in producing the distinct races that now exist? the sexual selection you allude to will also, i think, have been equally uncertain in its results. in the very lowest tribes there is rarely much polygamy, and women are more or less a matter of purchase. there is also little difference of social condition, and i think it rarely happens that any healthy and undeformed man remains without wife and children. i very much doubt the often-repeated assertion that our aristocracy are more beautiful than the middle classes. i allow that they present _specimens_ of the highest kind of beauty, but i doubt the average. i have noticed in country places a greater average amount of good looks among the middle classes, and besides, we unavoidably combine in our idea of beauty, intellectual expression and refinement of _manner_, which often make the less appear the more beautiful. mere physical beauty--that is, a healthy and regular development of the body and features approaching to the _mean_ or _type_ of european man--i believe is quite as frequent in one class of society as the other, and much more frequent in rural districts than in cities. with regard to the rank of man in zoological classification, i fear i have not made myself intelligible. i never meant to adopt owen's or any other such views, but only to point out that from _one_ point of view he was right. i hold that a distinct _family_ for man, as huxley allows, is all that can possibly be given him zoologically. but at the same time, if my theory is true--that while the animals which surrounded him have been undergoing modification in _all_ parts of their bodies to a _generic_ or even _family_ degree of difference, he has been changing almost wholly in the brain and head--then, in geological antiquity the _species_ of man may be as old as many mammalian _families_, and the origin of the _family_ man may date back to a period when some of the orders first originated. as to the theory of natural selection itself, i shall always maintain it to be actually yours and yours only. you had worked it out in details i had never thought of, years before i had a ray of light on the subject, and my paper would never have convinced anybody or been noticed as more than an ingenious speculation, whereas your book has revolutionised the study of natural history, and carried away captive the best men of the present age. all the merit i claim is the having been the means of inducing _you_ to write and publish at once. i may possibly some day go a little more into this subject (of man), and, if i do, will accept the kind offer of your notes. i am now, however, beginning to write the "narrative of my travels" which will occupy me a long time, as i hate writing narrative, and after bates's brilliant success rather fear to fail. i shall introduce a few chapters on geographical distribution and other such topics. sir c. lyell, while agreeing with my main argument on man, thinks i am wrong in wanting to put him back into miocene times, and thinks i do not appreciate the immense interval even to the later pliocene. but i still maintain my view, which in fact is a logical result of my theory, for if man originated in later pliocene times, when almost all mammalia were of closely allied species to those now living, and many even identical, then man has _not_ been stationary in bodily structure while animals have been varying, and my theory will be proved to be all wrong. in murchison's address to the geographical society just delivered he points out africa, as being the _oldest_ existing land. he says there is _no_ evidence of its having been ever submerged during the tertiary epoch. here, then, is evidently the place to find _early man_. i hope something good may be found in borneo, and that then means may be found to explore the still more promising regions of tropical africa, for we can expect nothing of man _very_ early in europe. it has given me great pleasure to find that there are symptoms of improvement in your health. i hope you will not exert yourself too soon or write more than is quite agreeable to you. i think i made out every word of your letter though it was not always easy.--believe me, my dear darwin, yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. june , ._ dear wallace,--you must not suppose from my delay that i have not been much interested by your long letter. i write now merely to thank you, and just to say that probably you are right on all the points you touch on except, as i think, about sexual selection, which i will not give up. my belief in it, however, is contingent on my general beliefs in sexual selection. it is an awful stretcher to believe that a peacock's tail was thus formed; but believing it, i believe in the same principle somewhat modified applied to man. i doubt whether my notes would be of any use to you, and as far as i remember they are chiefly on sexual selection. i am very glad to hear that you are on your travels. i believe you will find it a very convenient vehicle for miscellaneous discussion. with your admirable powers of writing, i cannot doubt that you will make an excellent book.--believe me, dear wallace, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--a great gun, flourens, has written a little dull book against me; which pleases me much, for it is plain that our good work is spreading in france. he speaks of the _engouement_ about this book, "so full of empty and presumptuous thoughts." * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. january , ._ my dear wallace,--i must ease my mind by saying how much i admire the two papers you have sent me. that on parrots[ ] contained most new matter to me, and interested me _extremely_; that in the _geographical journal_[ ] strikes me as an epitome of the whole theory of geographical distribution: the comparison of borneo and new guinea, the relation of the volcanic outbursts and the required subsidence, and the comparison of the supposed conversion of the atlantic into a great archipelago, seemed to me the three best hits. they are both indeed excellent papers.--believe me yours very sincerely, charles darwin. do try what hard work will do to banish painful thoughts.[ ] p.s.--during one of the later french voyages, a _wild_ pig was killed and brought from the aru islands to paris. am i not right in inferring that this must have been introduced and run wild? if you have a clear opinion on this head, may i quote you? * * * * * _ westbourne grove terrace, w. january , [ ?]._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your kind letter. i send you now a few more papers. one on man is not much in your line. the other three are bird lists, but in the introductory remarks are a few facts of distribution that may be of use to you, and as you have them already in the _zoological proceedings_, you can cut these up if you want "extracts." i hope you do not very much want the aru pig to be a domestic animal run wild, because i have no doubt myself it was the species peculiar to the new guinea fauna (_sus papuensis_, less.), a very distinct form. i have no doubt it is this species, though i did not get it myself there, because i was told that on a small island near, called there pulo babi (pig island), was a race of pigs (different from and larger than those of the large islands) which had originated from the wreck of a large ship near a century ago. the productions of the aru islands closely resemble those of new guinea, more than half the species of birds being identical, as well as about half of the few known mammals. i am beginning to work at some semi-mechanical work, drawing up catalogues of parts of my collection for publication. i enclose my "carte." have you a photograph of yourself of any kind you can send me? when you come to town next, may i beg the honour of a sitting for my brother-in-law, mr. sims, westbourne grove?--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--your paper on _lythrum salicaria_[ ] is most beautiful. what a wonderful plant it is! i long to hear your paper on tendrils and hear what you have got out of them. my old friend spruce, a good botanist and close observer, could probably supply you with some facts on that or other botanical subjects if you would write to him. he is now at kew, but almost as ill as yourself.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. february , ._ my dear wallace,--i am much obliged for your photograph, for i have lately set up a scientific album; and for the papers, which i will read before long. i enclose my own photo, taken by my son, and i have no other. i fear it will be a long time before i shall be able to sit to a photographer, otherwise i should be happy to sit to mr. sims. thanks for information about the aru pig, which will make me very cautious. it is a perplexing case, for nathusius says the skull of the aru resembles that of the chinese breed, and he thinks that _sus papuensis_ has been founded on a young skull; d. blainville stating that an old skull from new guinea resembles that of the wild pigs of malabar, and these belong to the _s. scrofa_ type, which is different from the chinese domestic breed. the latter has not been found in a wild condition.--believe me, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, regent's park, n.w. sept. , ._ dear darwin,--i should have written before to thank you for the copy of your paper on climbing plants, which i read with great interest; i can imagine how much pleasure the working out must have given you. i was afraid you were too ill to make it advisable that you should be bothered with letters. i write now, in hopes you are better, to communicate a curious case of _variation_ becoming at once _hereditary_, which was brought forward at the british association. i send a note of it on the other side, but if you would like more exact particulars, with names and dates and a drawing of the bird, i am sure mr. o'callaghan would send them to you. i hope to hear that you are better, and that your new book is really to come out next winter.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. note.--last spring mr. o'callaghan was told by a country boy that he had seen a blackbird with a topknot; on which mr. o'c. very judiciously told him to watch it and communicate further with him. after a time the boy told him he had found a blackbird's nest, and had seen this crested bird near it and believed he belonged to it. he continued watching the nest till the young were hatched. after a time he told mr. o'c. that two of the young birds seemed as if they would have topknots. he was told to get one of them as soon as it was fledged. however, he was too late, and they left the nest, but luckily he found them near and knocked one down with a stone, which mr. o'c. had stuffed and exhibited. it has a fine crest, something like that of a polish fowl, but _larger_ in proportion to the bird, and very regular and well formed. the male must have been almost like the umbrella bird in miniature, the crest is so large and expanded.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. september , ._ dear wallace,--i am much obliged for your extract; i never heard of such a case, though such a variation is perhaps the most likely of any to occur in a state of nature and be inherited, inasmuch as all domesticated birds present races with a tuft or with reversed feathers on their heads. i have sometimes thought that the progenitor of the whole class must have been a crested animal. do you make any progress with your journal of travels? i am the more anxious that you should do so as i have lately read with much interest some papers by you on the ouran-outang, etc., in the _annals_, of which i have lately been reading the latter volumes, i have always thought that journals of this nature do considerable good by advancing the taste for natural history; i know in my own case that nothing ever stimulated my zeal so much as reading humboldt's personal narrative. i have not yet received the last part of _linnean transactions_, but your paper[ ] at present will be rather beyond my strength, for though somewhat better i can as yet do hardly anything but lie on the sofa and be read aloud to. by the way, have you read tylor and lecky?[ ] both these books have interested me much. i suppose you have read lubbock?[ ] in the last chapter there is a note about you in which i most cordially concur.[ ] i see you were at the british association, but i have heard nothing of it except what i have picked up in the _reader_. i have heard a rumour that the _reader_ is sold to the anthropological society. if you do not begrudge the trouble of another note (for my sole channel of news through hooker is closed by his illness), i should much like to hear whether the _reader_ is thus sold. i should be very sorry for it, as the paper would thus become sectional in its tendency. if you write, tell me what you are doing yourself. the only news which i have about the "origin" is that fritz müller published a few months ago a remarkable book[ ] in its favour, and secondly that a second french edition is just coming out.--believe me, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, regents park. october , ._ dear darwin,--i was just leaving town for a few days when i received your letter, or should have replied at once. the _reader_ has no doubt changed hands, and i am inclined to think for the better. it is purchased, i believe, by a gentleman who is a fellow of the anthropological society, but i see no signs of its being made a special organ of that society. the editor (and, i believe, proprietor) is a mr. bendyshe, the most talented man in the society, and, judging from his speaking, which i have often heard, i should say the articles on "simeon and simony," "metropolitan sewage," and "france and mexico," are his, and these are in my opinion superior to anything that has been in the _reader_ for a long time; they have the point and brilliancy which are wanted to make leading articles readable and popular. the articles on mill's political economy and on mazzini are also first-rate. he has introduced also the plan of having two, and now three, important articles in each number--one political or social, one literary, and one scientific. under the old regime they never had an editor above mediocrity, except masson (? musson); there was a want of unity among the proprietors as to the aims and objects of the journal; and there was a want of capital to secure the services of good writers. this seems to me to be now all changed for the better, and i only hope the rumour of that _bête noire_, the anthropological society, having anything to do with it may not cause our best men of science to withdraw their support and contributions. i have read tylor, and am reading lecky. i found the former somewhat disconnected and unsatisfactory from the absence of any definite result or any decided opinion on most of the matters treated of. lecky i like much, though he is rather tedious and obscure at times. most of what he says has been said so much more forcibly by buckle, whose work i have read for the second time with increased admiration, although with a clear view of some of his errors. nevertheless, his is i think unapproachably the grandest work of the present century, and the one most likely to liberalise opinion. lubbock's book is very good, but his concluding chapter very weak. why are men of science so dreadfully afraid to say what they think and believe? in reply to your kind inquiries about myself, i can only say that i am ashamed of my laziness. i have done nothing lately but write a paper on pigeons for the _ibis_, and am drawing up a catalogue of my collection of birds. as to my "travels," i cannot bring myself to undertake them yet, and perhaps never shall, unless i should be fortunate enough to get a wife who would incite me thereto and assist me therein--which is not likely. i am glad to hear that the "origin" is still working its revolutionary way on the continent. will müller's book on it be translated? i am glad to hear you are a little better. my poor friend spruce is still worse than you are, and i fear now will not recover. he wants to write a book if he gets well enough.--with best wishes, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. january , ._ my dear wallace,--i thank you for your paper on pigeons,[ ] which interested me, as everything that you write does. who would ever have dreamed that monkeys influenced the distribution of pigeons and parrots! but i have had a still higher satisfaction; for i finished yesterday your paper in the _linnean transactions_.[ ] it is admirably done. i cannot conceive that the most firm believer in species could read it without being staggered. such papers will make many more converts among naturalists than long-winded books such as i shall write if i have strength. i have been particularly struck with your remarks on dimorphism; but i cannot quite understand one point (p. ), and should be grateful for an explanation, for i want fully to understand you.[ ] how can one female form be selected and the intermediate forms die out, without also the other extreme form also dying out from not having the advantages of the first selected form? for, as i understand, both female forms occur on the same island. i quite agree with your distinction between dimorphic forms and varieties; but i doubt whether your criterion of dimorphic forms not producing intermediate offspring will suffice; for i know of a good many varieties, which must be so called, that will not blend or intermix, but produce offspring quite like either parent. i have been particularly struck with your remarks on geological distribution in celebes. it is impossible that anything could be better put, and [it] would give a cold shudder to the immutable naturalists. and now i am going to ask a question which you will not like. how does your journal get on? it will be a shame if you do not popularise your researches. my health is so far improved that i am able to work one or two hours a day.--believe me, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, regent's park, n.w. february , ._ my dear darwin,--i am very glad to hear you are a little better, and hope we shall soon have the pleasure of seeing your volume on "variation under domestication." i do not see the difficulty you seem to feel about two or more female forms of one species. the _most common_ or _typical_ female form must have certain characters or qualities which are sufficiently advantageous to it to enable it to maintain its existence; in general, such as vary much from it die out. but occasionally a variation may occur which has special advantageous characters of its own (such as mimicking a protected species), and then this variation will maintain itself by selection. in no less than three of my _polymorphic_ species of papilio, one of the female forms mimics the _polydorus_ group, which, like the _Ã�neas_ group in america, seems to have some special protection. in two or three other cases one of the female forms is confined to a restricted locality, to the conditions of which it is probably specially adapted. in other cases one of the female forms resembles the male, and perhaps receives a protection from the abundance of the males, in the crowd of which it is passed over. i think these considerations render the production of two or three forms of female very conceivable. the physiological difficulty is to me greater, of how each of two forms of female produces offspring like the other female as well as like itself, but no intermediates? if you "know varieties that will not blend or intermix, but produce offspring quite like either parents," is not that the very physiological test of a species which is wanting for the _complete proof_ of the origin of species? i have by no means given up the idea of writing my travels, but i think i shall be able to do it better for the delay, as i can introduce chapters giving popular sketches of the subjects treated of in my various papers. i hope, if things go as i wish this summer, to begin work at it next winter. but i feel myself incorrigibly lazy, and have no such system of collecting and arranging facts or of making the most of my materials as you and many of our hard-working naturalists possess in perfection.--with best wishes, believe me, dear darwin, yours most sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, s.e. tuesday, february, ._ my dear wallace,--after i had dispatched my last note, the simple explanation which you give had occurred to me, and seems satisfactory. i do not think you understand what i mean by the non-blending of certain varieties. it does not refer to fertility. an instance will explain. i crossed the painted lady and purple sweet peas, which are very differently coloured varieties, and got, even out of the same pod, both varieties perfect, but none intermediate. something of this kind, i should think, must occur at first with your butterflies and the three forms of lythrum; though these cases are in appearance so wonderful, i do not know that they are really more so than every female in the world producing distinct male and female offspring. i am heartily glad that you mean to go on preparing your journal.--believe me yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint, sussex. july , ._ my dear darwin,--i have been so repeatedly struck by the utter inability of numbers of intelligent persons to see clearly, or at all, the self-acting and necessary effects of natural selection, that i am led to conclude that the term itself, and your mode of illustrating it, however clear and beautiful to many of us, are yet not the best adapted to impress it on the general naturalist public. the two last cases of this misunderstanding are ( ) the article on "darwin and his teachings" in the last _quarterly journal of science_, which, though very well written and on the whole appreciative, yet concludes with a charge of something like blindness, in your not seeing that natural selection requires the constant watching of an intelligent "chooser," like man's selection to which you so often compare it; and ( ) in janet's recent work on the "materialism of the present day," reviewed in last saturday's _reader_, by an extract from which i see that he considers your weak point to be that you do not see that "thought and direction are essential to the action of natural selection." the same objection has been made a score of times by your chief opponents, and i have heard it as often stated myself in conversation. now, i think this arises almost entirely from your choice of the term natural selection, and so constantly comparing it in its effects to man's selection, and also to your so frequently personifying nature as "selecting," as "preferring," as "seeking only the good of the species," etc., etc. to the few this is as clear as daylight, and beautifully suggestive, but to many it is evidently a stumbling-block. i wish, therefore, to suggest to you the possibility of entirely avoiding this source of misconception in your great work (if not now too late), and also in any future editions of the "origin," and i think it may be done without difficulty and very effectually by adopting spencer's term (which he generally uses in preference to natural selection), viz. "survival of the fittest." this term is the plain expression of the _fact_; "natural selection" is a metaphorical expression of it, and to a certain degree _indirect_ and _incorrect_, since, even personifying nature, she does not so much select special variations as exterminate the most unfavourable ones. combined with the enormous multiplying powers of all organisms, and the "struggle for existence," leading to the constant destruction of by far the largest proportion--facts which no one of your opponents, as far as i am aware, has denied or misunderstood--"the survival of the fittest," rather than of those which were less fit, could not possibly be denied or misunderstood. neither would it be possible to say that to ensure the "survival of the fittest" any _intelligent chooser_ was necessary, whereas when you say "natural selection" acts so as to choose those that are fittest it _is_ misunderstood, and apparently always will be. referring to your book, i find such expressions as "man selects only for his own good; nature only for that of the being which she tends." this, it seems, will always be misunderstood; but if you had said, "man selects only for his own good; nature, by the inevitable survival of the fittest, only for that of the being she tends," it would have been less liable to be so. i find you use the term natural selection in two senses--( ) for the simple preservation of favourable and rejection of unfavourable variations, in which case it is equivalent to "survival of the fittest"; ( ) for the _effect or change_ produced by this preservation, as when you say, "to sum up the circumstances favourable or unfavourable to natural selection," and, again, "isolation, also, is an important element in the process of natural selection": here it is not merely "survival of the fittest," but _change_ produced by survival of the fittest, that is meant. on looking over your fourth chapter, i find that these alterations of terms can be in most cases easily made, while in some cases the addition of "or survival of the fittest" after "natural selection" would be best; and in others, less likely to be misunderstood, the original term might stand alone. i could not venture to propose to any other person so great an alteration of terms, but you, i am sure, will give it an impartial consideration, and, if you really think the change will produce a better understanding of your work, will not hesitate to adopt it. it is evidently also necessary not to personify "nature" too much, though i am very apt to do it myself, since people will not understand that all such phrases are metaphors. natural selection is, when understood, so necessary and self-evident a principle that it is a pity it should be in any way obscured; and it therefore occurs to me that the free use of "survival of the fittest", which is a compact and accurate definition of it, would tend much to its being more widely accepted and prevent its being so much misrepresented and misunderstood. there is another objection made by janet which is also a very common one. it is that the chances are almost infinite against the particular kind of variation required being coincident with each change of external conditions, to enable an animal to become modified by natural selection in harmony with such changed conditions; especially when we consider that, to have produced the almost infinite modifications of organic beings, this coincidence must have taken place an almost infinite number of times. now it seems to me that you have yourself led to this objection being made by so often stating the case too strongly against yourself. for example, at the commencement of chapter iv. you ask if it is "improbable that useful variations should sometimes occur in the course of thousands of generations"; and a little further on you say, "unless profitable variations do occur, natural selection can do nothing." now, such expressions have given your opponents the advantage of assuming that _favourable_ variations are _rare accidents_, or may even for long periods never occur at all, and thus janet's argument would appear to many to have great force. i think it would be better to do away with all such qualifying expressions, and constantly maintain (what i certainly believe to be the fact) that _variations of every kind_ are _always occurring_ in _every part_ of _every species_, and therefore that favourable variations are _always ready_ when wanted. you have, i am sure, abundant materials to prove this, and it is, i believe, the grand fact that renders modification and adaptation to conditions almost always possible. i would put the burthen of proof on my opponents to show that any one organ, structure, or faculty does _not vary_, even during one generation, among all the individuals of a species; and also to show any _mode or way_ in which any such organ, etc., does not vary. i would ask them to give any reason for supposing that any organ, etc., is ever _absolutely identical_ at any _one time in all the individuals_ of a species, and if not, then it is always varying, and there are always materials which, from the simple fact that the "fittest survive," will tend to the modification of the race into harmony with changed conditions. i hope these remarks may be intelligible to you, and that you will be so kind as to let me know what you think of them. i have not heard for some time how you are getting on. i hope you are still improving in health, and that you will be able now to get on with your great work, for which so many thousands are looking with interest.--with best wishes, believe me, my dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. july , [ ]._ my dear wallace,--i have been much interested by your letter, which is as clear as daylight. i fully agree with all that you say on the advantages of h. spencer's excellent expression of "the survival of the fittest." this, however, had not occurred to me till reading your letter. it is, however, a great objection to this term that it cannot be used as a substantive governing a verb; and that this is a real objection i infer from h. spencer continually using the words "natural selection." i formerly thought, probably in an exaggerated degree, that it was a great advantage to bring into connection natural and artificial selection; this indeed led me to use a term in common, and i still think it some advantage. i wish i had received your letter two months ago, for i would have worked in "the survival," etc., often in the new edition of the "origin," which is now almost printed off, and of which i will, of course, send you a copy. i will use the term in my next book on domestic animals, etc., from which, by the way, i plainly see that you expect _much_ too much. the term natural selection has now been so largely used abroad and at home that i doubt whether it could be given up, and with all its faults i should be sorry to see the attempt made. whether it will be rejected must now depend on the "survival of the fittest." as in time the term must grow intelligible, the objections to its use will grow weaker and weaker. i doubt whether the use of any term would have made the subject intelligible to some minds, clear as it is to others; for do we not see, even to the present day, malthus on population absurdly misunderstood? this reflection about malthus has often comforted me when i have been vexed at the misstatement of my views. as for m. janet,[ ] he is a metaphysician, and such gentlemen are so acute that i think they often misunderstand common folk. your criticism on the double sense in which i have used natural selection is new to me and unanswerable; but my blunder has done no harm, for i do not believe that anyone excepting you has ever observed it. again, i agree that i have said too much about "favourable variations," but i am inclined to think you put the opposite side too strongly; if every part of every being varied, i do not think we should see the same end or object gained by such wonderfully diversified means. i hope you are enjoying the country and are in good health, and are working hard at your malay archipelago book, for i will always put this wish in every note i write to you, like some good people always put in a text. my health keeps much the same, or rather improves, and i am able to work some hours daily.--with many thanks for your interesting letter, believe me, my dear wallace, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i suppose you have read the last number of h. spencer; i have been struck with astonishment at the prodigality of original thought in it. but how unfortunate it is that it seems scarcely ever possible to discriminate between the direct effect of external influences and the "survival of the fittest." * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, regent's park, n.w. nov. , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for the fourth edition of the "origin," which i am glad to see grows so vigorously at each moult, although it undergoes no metamorphosis. how curious it is that dr. wells should so clearly have seen the principle of natural selection fifty years ago, and that it should have struck no one that it was a great principle of universal application in nature! we are going to have a discussion on "mimicry, as producing abnormal sexual characters," at the entomological to-night. i have a butterfly (diadema) of which the female is metallic blue, the male dusky brown, contrary to the rule in all other species of the genus, and in almost all insects; but the explanation is easy--it mimics a metallic _euploea_, and so gets a protection perhaps more efficient than its allies derive from their sombre colours, and which females require much more than males. i read a paper on this at the british association. have you the report published at nottingham in a volume by dr. robertson? if so, you can tell me if my paper is printed in full. i suppose you have read agassiz's marvellous theory of the great amazonian glacier, , miles long! i presume that will be a _little_ too much, even for you. i have been writing a little popular paper on "glacial theories" for the _quarterly journal of science_ of january next, in which i stick up for glaciers in north america and icebergs in the amazon! i was very glad to hear from lubbock that your health is permanently improved. i hope therefore you will be able to give us a volume per annum of your _magnum opus_, with all the facts as you now have them, leaving additions to come in new editions. i am working a little at another family of my butterflies, and find the usual interesting and puzzling cases of variation, but no such phenomena as in the papilionidæ.--with best wishes, believe me, my dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ queen anne street, w. monday, january, ._ my dear wallace,--i return by this post the _journal_.[ ] your résumé of glacier action seems to me very good, and has interested my brother much, and as the subject is new to him he is a better judge. that is quite a new and perplexing point which you specify about the freshwater fishes during the glacial period. i have also been very glad to see the article on lyell, which seems to me to be done by some good man. i forgot to say when with you--but i then indeed did not know so much as i do now--that the sexual, i.e. _ornamental_, differences in fishes, which differences are sometimes very great, offer a difficulty in the wide extension of the view that the female is not brightly coloured on account of the danger which she would incur in the propagation of the species. i very much enjoyed my long conversation with you; and to-day we return home, and i to my horrid dull work of correcting proof-sheets.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--i had arranged to go and see your collection on saturday evening, but my head suddenly failed after luncheon, and i was forced to lie down all the rest of the day. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. february , ._ dear wallace,--i much regretted that i was unable to call on you, but after monday i was unable even to leave the house. on monday evening i called on bates and put a difficulty before him, which he could not answer, and, as on some former similar occasion, his first suggestion was, "you had better ask wallace." my difficulty is, why are caterpillars sometimes so beautifully and artistically coloured? seeing that many are coloured to escape danger, i can hardly attribute their bright colour in other cases to mere physical conditions. bates says the most gaudy caterpillar he ever saw in amazonia (of a sphinx) was conspicuous at the distance of yards from its black and red colouring whilst feeding on large green leaves. if anyone objected to male butterflies having been made beautiful by sexual selection, and asked why should they not have been made beautiful as well as their caterpillars, what would you answer? i could not answer, but should maintain my ground. will you think over this, and some time, either by letter or when we meet, tell me what you think? also, i want to know whether your _female_ mimetic butterfly is more beautiful and brighter than the male? when next in london i must get you to show me your kingfishers. my health is a dreadful evil; i failed in half my engagements during this last visit to london.--believe me, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * the answer to this letter is missing, but in vol. ii. of "my life," p. , wallace writes: "on reading this letter i almost at once saw what seemed to be a very easy and probable explanation of the facts. i had then just been preparing for publication (in the _westminster review_) my rather elaborate paper on 'mimicry and protective colouring,' and the numerous cases in which specially showy and slow-flying butterflies were known to have a peculiar odour and taste which protected them from the attacks of insect-eating birds and other animals led me at once to suppose that the gaudily coloured caterpillars must have a similar protection. i had just ascertained from mr. jenner weir that one of our common white moths (_spilosoma menthastri_) would not be eaten by most of the small birds in his aviary, nor by young turkeys. now, as a _white_ moth is as conspicuous in the dusk as a coloured caterpillar in the daylight, this case seemed to me so much on a par with the other that i felt almost sure my explanation would turn out correct. i at once wrote to mr. darwin to this effect." * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. february , ._ my dear wallace,--bates was quite right, you are the man to apply to in a difficulty. i never heard anything more ingenious than your suggestion, and i hope you may be able to prove it true. that is a splendid fact about the white moths; it warms one's very blood to see a theory thus almost proved to be true.[ ] with respect to the beauty of male butterflies, i must as yet think that it is due to sexual selection; there is some evidence that dragonflies are attracted by bright colours; but what leads me to the above belief is so many male orthoptera and cicadas having musical instruments. this being the case, the analogy of birds makes me believe in sexual selection with respect to colour in insects. i wish i had strength and time to make some of the experiments suggested by you; but i thought butterflies would not pair in confinement; i am sure i have heard of some such difficulty. many years ago i had a dragonfly painted with gorgeous colours, but i never had an opportunity of fairly trying it. the reason of my being so much interested just at present about sexual selection is that i have almost resolved to publish a little essay on the origin of mankind, and i still strongly think (though i failed to convince you, and this to me is the heaviest blow possible) that sexual selection has been the main agent in forming the races of man. by the way, there is another subject which i shall introduce in my essay, viz. expression of countenance. now, do you happen to know by any odd chance a very good-natured and acute observer in the malay archipelago who, you think, would make a few easy observations for me on the expression of the malays when excited by various emotions. for in this case i would send to such person a list of queries.--i thank you for your most interesting letters, and remain yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. march , ._ dear darwin,--i return your queries, but cannot answer them with any certainty. for the malays i should say yes to , , , , and , and no to , and ; but i cannot be _certain_ in any one. but do you think these things are of much importance? i am inclined to think that if you could get good direct observations you would find some of them often differ from tribe to tribe, from island to island, and sometimes from village to village. some no doubt may be deep-seated, and would imply organic differences; but can you tell beforehand which these are? i presume the frenchman shrugs his shoulders whether he is of the norman, breton, or gaulish stock. would it not be a good thing to send your list of queries to some of the bombay and calcutta papers? as there must be numbers of indian judges and other officers who would be interested and would send you hosts of replies. the australian papers and new zealand might also publish them, and then you would have a fine basis to go on. is your essay on variation in man to be a supplement to your volume on domesticated animals and cultivated plants? i would rather see your second volume on "the struggle for existence, etc.," for i doubt if we have a sufficiency of fair and accurate facts to do anything with man. huxley, i believe, is at work upon it. i have been reading murray's volume on the geographical distribution of mammals. he has some good ideas here and there, but is quite unable to understand natural selection, and makes a most absurd mess of his criticism of your views on oceanic islands. by the bye, what an interesting volume the whole of your materials on that subject would, i am sure, make.--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. march, ._ my dear wallace,--i thank you much for your two notes. the case of julia pastrana[ ] is a splendid addition to my other cases of correlated teeth and hair, and i will add it in correcting the proof of my present volume. pray let me hear in course of the summer if you get any evidence about the gaudy caterpillars. i should much like to give (or quote if published) this idea of yours, if in any way supported, as suggested by you. it will, however, be a long time hence, for i can see that sexual selection is growing into quite a large subject, which i shall introduce into my essay on man, supposing that i ever publish it. i had intended giving a chapter on man, inasmuch as many call him (not _quite_ truly) an eminently _domesticated_ animal; but i found the subject too large for a chapter. nor shall i be capable of treating the subject well, and my sole reason for taking it up is that i am pretty well convinced that sexual selection has played an important part in the formation of races, and sexual selection has always been a subject which has interested me much. i have been very glad to see your impression from memory on the expressions of malays. i fully agree with you that the subject is in no way an important one: it is simply a "hobby-horse" with me about twenty-seven years old; and after thinking that i would write an essay on man, it flashed on me that i could work in some "supplemental remarks on expression." after the horrid, tedious, dull work of my present huge and, i fear, unreadable book, i thought i would amuse myself with my hobby-horse. the subject is, i think, more curious and more amenable to scientific treatment than you seem willing to allow. i want, anyhow, to upset sir c. bell's view, given in his most interesting work, "the anatomy of expression," that certain muscles have been given to man solely that he may reveal to other men his feelings. i want to try and show how expressions have arisen. that is a good suggestion about newspapers; but my experience tells me that private applications are generally most fruitful. i will, however, see if i can get the queries inserted in some indian paper. i do not know names or addresses of any other papers. i have just ordered, but not yet received, murray's book: lindley used to call him a blunder-headed man. it is very doubtful whether i shall ever have strength to publish the latter part of my materials. my two female amanuenses are busy with friends, and i fear this scrawl will give you much trouble to read.--with many thanks, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. april , ._ dear wallace,--i have been greatly interested by your letter;[ ] but your view is not new to me. if you will look at p. of the fourth edition of the "origin," you will find it very briefly given with two extremes of the peacock and black grouse. a more general statement is given at p. , or at p. of the first edition, for i have long entertained this view, though i have never had space to develop it. but i had not sufficient knowledge to generalise as far as you do about colouring and nesting. in your paper, perhaps you will just allude to my scanty remark in the fourth edition, because in my essay upon man i intend to discuss the whole subject of sexual selection, explaining, as i believe it does, much with respect to man. i have collected all my old notes and partly written my discussion, and it would be flat work for me to give the leading idea as exclusively from you. but as i am sure from your greater knowledge of ornithology and entomology that you will write a much better discussion than i could, your paper will be of great use to me. nevertheless, i must discuss the subject fully in my essay on man. when we met at the zoological society and i asked you about the sexual differences in kingfishers, i had this subject in view; as i had when i suggested to bates the difficulty about gaudy caterpillars which you have so admirably (as i believe it will prove) explained. i have got one capital case (genus forgotten) of an [australian] bird in which the female has long-tailed plumes and which consequently builds a different nest from all her allies.[ ] with respect to certain female birds being more brightly coloured than the males, and the latter incubating, i have gone a little into the subject and cannot say that i am fully satisfied. i remember mentioning to you the case of rhynchæa, but its nesting seems unknown. in some other cases the difference in brightness seemed to me hardly sufficiently accounted for by the principle of protection. at the falkland islands there is a carrion hawk in which the female (as i ascertained by dissection) is the brightest coloured, and i doubt whether protection will here apply; but i wrote several months ago to the falklands to make inquiries. the conclusion to which i have been leaning is that in some of these abnormal cases the colour happened to vary in the female alone, and was transmitted to females alone, and that her variations have been selected through the admiration of the male. it is a very interesting subject, but i shall not be able to go on with it for the next five or six months, as i am fully employed in correcting dull proof-sheets; when i return to the work i shall find it much better done by you than i could have succeeded in doing. with many thanks for your very interesting note, believe me, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. it is curious how we hit on the same ideas. i have endeavoured to show in my ms. discussion that nearly the same principles account for young birds _not_ being gaily coloured in many cases--but this is too complex a point for a note. _postscript. down. april ._ my dear wallace,--on reading over your letter again, and on further reflection, i do not think (as far as i remember my words) that i expressed myself _nearly strongly_ enough as to the value and beauty of your generalisation, viz. that all birds in which the female is conspicuously or brightly coloured build in holes or under domes. i thought that this was the explanation in many, perhaps most cases, but do not think i should ever have extended my view to your generalisation. forgive me troubling you with this p.s.--yours, ch. darwin. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. may , ._ my dear wallace,--the offer of your valuable notes is _most_ generous, but it would vex me to take so much from you, as it is certain that you could work up the subject very much better than i could. therefore i earnestly and without any reservation hope that you will proceed with your paper, so that i return your notes. you seem already to have well investigated the subject. i confess on receiving your note that i felt rather flat at my recent work being almost thrown away, but i did not intend to show this feeling. as a proof how little advance i had made on the subject, i may mention that though i had been collecting facts on the colouring and other sexual differences in mammals, your explanation with respect to the females had not occurred to me. i am surprised at my own stupidity, but i have long recognised how much clearer and deeper your insight into matters is than mine. i do not know how far you have attended to the laws of inheritance, so what follows may be obvious to you. i have begun my discussion on sexual selection by showing that new characters often appear in one sex and are transmitted to that sex alone, and that from some unknown cause such characters apparently appear oftener in the male than in the female. secondly, characters may be developed and be confined to the male, and long afterwards be transferred to the female. thirdly, characters may, again, arise in either sex and be transmitted to both sexes, either in an equal or unequal degree. in this latter case i have supposed that the survival of the fittest has come into play with female birds and kept the female dull-coloured. with respect to the absence of spurs in female gallinaceous birds, i presume that they would be in the way during incubation; at least, i have got the case of a german breed of fowls in which the hens were spurred, and were found to disturb and break their eggs much. with respect to the females of deer not having horns, i presume it is to save the loss of organised matter. in your note you speak of sexual selection and protection as sufficient to account for the colouring of all animals; but it seems to me doubtful how far this will come into play with some of the lower animals, such as sea anemones, some corals, etc. etc. on the other hand, haeckel has recently well shown that the transparency and absence of colour in the lower oceanic animals, belonging to the most different classes, may be well accounted for on the principle of protection. some time or other i should like much to know where your paper on the nests of birds has appeared, and i shall be extremely anxious to read your paper in the _westminster review_. your paper on the sexual colouring of birds will, i have no doubt, be very striking. forgive me, if you can, for a touch of illiberality about your paper, and believe me yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. july , ._ my dear wallace,--i am very much obliged for your article on mimicry,[ ] the whole of which i have read with the greatest interest. you certainly have the art of putting your ideas with remarkable force and clearness; now that i am slaving over proof-sheets it makes me almost envious. i have been particularly glad to read about the birds' nests, and i must procure the _intellectual observer_; but the point which i think struck me most was about its being of no use to the heliconias to acquire in a slight degree a disagreeable taste. what a curious case is that about the coral snakes. the summary, and indeed the whole, is excellent, and i have enjoyed it much.--with many thanks, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. wednesday, [august or september, ]._ dear darwin,--i am very sorry i was out when you called yesterday. i had just gone to the zoological gardens, and i met sir c. lyell, who told me you were in town. if you should have time to go to bayswater, i think you would be pleased to see the collections which i have displayed there in the form of an _exhibition_ (though the public will not go to see it). if you can go, with any friends, i should like to meet you there if you can appoint a time. i am glad to find you continue in tolerable health.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. what do you think of the duke of argyll's criticisms, and the more pretentious one in the last number of the _north british review_? i have written a little article answering them both, but i do not yet know where to get it published.--a.r.w. * * * * * _ - / westbourne grove, bayswater, w. october , ._ dear darwin,--i am sorry i was not in town when your note came. i took a short trip to scotland after the british association meeting, and went up ben lawers. it was very cold and wet, and i could not find a companion or i should have gone as far as glen roy. my article on "creation by law," in reply to the duke of argyll and the _north british_ reviewer, is in the present month's number of the _quarterly journal of science_. i cannot send you a copy because they do not allow separate copies to be printed. there is a nice illustration of the _predicted_ madagascar moth and _angræcum sesquipedale_. i shall be glad to know whether i have done it satisfactorily to you, and hope you will not be so very sparing of criticism as you usually are. i hope you are getting on well with your great book. i hear a rumour that we are to have _one_ vol. of it about christmas. i quite forget whether i told you that i have a little boy, now three months old, and have named him herbert spencer (having had a brother herbert). i am now staying chiefly in the country, at hurstpierpoint, but come up to town once a month at least. you may address simply, "hurstpierpoint, sussex." hoping your health is tolerable and that all your family are well, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. october and , ._ my dear wallace,--i ordered the journal a long time ago, but by some oversight received it only yesterday and read it. you will think my praise not worth having from being so indiscriminate, but if i am to speak the truth, i must say i admire every word. you have just touched on the points which i particularly wished to see noticed. i am glad you had the courage to take up _angræcum_[ ] after the duke's attack; for i believe the principle in this case may be widely applied. i like the figure, but i wish the artist had drawn a better sphinx. with respect to beauty, your remarks on hideous objects and on flowers not being made beautiful except when of practical use to them strike me as very good. on this one point of beauty, i can hardly think that the duke was quite candid. i have used in the concluding paragraph of my present book precisely the same argument as you have, even bringing in the bulldog,[ ] with respect to variations not having been specially ordained. your metaphor of the river[ ] is new to me, and admirable; but your other metaphor, in which you compare classification and complex machines, does not seem to me quite appropriate, though i cannot point out what seems deficient. the point which seems to me strong is that all naturalists admit that there is a _natural_ classification, and it is this which descent explains. i wish you had insisted a little more against the _north british_[ ] reviewer assuming that each variation which appears is a strongly marked one; though by implication you have made this _very_, plain. nothing in your whole article has struck me more than your view with respect to the limit of fleetness in the racehorse and other such cases; i shall try and quote you on this head in the proof of my concluding chapter. i quite missed this explanation, though in the case of wheat i hit upon something analogous. i am glad you praise the duke's book, for i was much struck with it. the part about flight seemed to me at first very good, but as the wing is articulated by a ball-and-socket joint, i suspect the duke would find it very difficult to give any reason against the belief that the wing strikes the air more or less obliquely. i have been very glad to see your article and the drawing of the butterfly in _science gossip_. by the way, i cannot but think that you push protection too far in some cases, as with the stripes on the tiger. i have also this morning read an excellent abstract in the _gardeners' chronicle_ of your paper on nests;[ ] i was not by any means fully converted by your letter, but i think now i am so; and i hope it will be published somewhere _in extenso_. it strikes me as a capital generalisation, and appears to me even more original than it did at first. i have had an excellent and cautious letter from mr. geach of singapore with some valuable answers on expression, which i owe to you. i heartily congratulate you on the birth of "herbert spencer," and may he deserve his name, but i hope he will copy his father's style and not his namesake's. pray observe, though i fear i am a month too late, when tears are first secreted enough to overflow; and write down date. i have finished vol. i. of my book, and i hope the whole will be out by the end of november; if you have the patience to read it through, which is very doubtful, you will find, i think, a large accumulation of facts which will be of service to you in your future papers, and they could not be put to better use, for you certainly are a master in the noble art of reasoning. have you changed your house to westbourne grove? believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. this letter is so badly expressed that it is barely intelligible, but i am tired with proofs. p.s.--mr. warington has lately read an excellent and spirited abstract of the "origin" before the victoria institute, and as this is a most orthodox body he has gained the name of the devil's advocate. the discussion which followed during three consecutive meetings is very rich from the nonsense talked. if you would care to see the number i could lend it you. i forgot to remark how capitally you turn the table on the duke, when you make him create the _angræcum_ and moth by special creation. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint. october , ._ dear darwin,--i am very glad you approve of my article on "creation by law" as a whole. the "machine metaphor" is not mine, but the _north british_ reviewer's. i merely accept it and show that it is on our side and not against us, but i do not think it at all a good metaphor to be used as an _argument_ either way. i did not half develop the argument on the limits of variation, being myself limited in space; but i feel satisfied that it is the true answer to the very common and very strong objection, that "variation has strict limits." the fallacy is the requiring variation in domesticity to go beyond the limits of the same variation under nature. it does do so sometimes, however, because the conditions of existence are so different. i do not think a case can be pointed out in which the limits of variation under domestication are not up to or beyond those already marked out in nature, only we generally get in the _species_ an amount of change which in nature occurs only in the whole range of the _genus_ or _family_. the many cases, however, in which variation has gone far beyond nature and has not yet stopped are ignored. for instance, no wild pomaceous fruit is, i believe, so large as our apples, and no doubt they could be got much larger if flavour, etc., were entirely neglected. i may perhaps push "protection" too far sometimes, for it is my hobby just now, but as the lion and the tiger are, i think, the only two non-arboreal cats, i think the tiger stripe agreeing so well with its usual habitat is at least a probable case. i am rewriting my article on birds' nests for the new _natural history review_. i cannot tell you about the first appearance of _tears_, but it is very early--the first week or two, i think. i can see the _victoria institute magazine_ at the london library. i shall read your book, _every word_. i hear from sir c. lyell that you come out with a grand new theory at the end, which even the _cautious_ (!) huxley is afraid of! sir c. said he could think of nothing else since he read it. i long to see it. my address is hurstpierpoint during the winter, and, when in town, - / westbourne grove. i suppose you will now be going on with your book on sexual selection and man, by way of relaxation! it is a glorious subject, but will require delicate handling,--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ duchess street, w. february , ._ dear darwin,--i have to thank you for signing the memorial as to the east london museum, and also for your kindness in sending me a copy of your great book, which i have only just received. i shall take it down in the country with me next week, and enjoy every line at my leisure. allow me also to congratulate you on the splendid position obtained by your second son at cambridge. you will perhaps be glad to hear that i have been for some time hammering away at my travels, but i fear i shall make a mess of it. i shall leave most of the natural history generalisation, etc., for another work, as if i wait to incorporate all, i may wait for years.--hoping you are quite well, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. february , [ ?]._ my dear wallace,--i am hard at work on sexual selection and am driven half mad by the number of collateral points which require investigation, such as the relative numbers of the two sexes, and especially on polygamy. can you aid me with respect to birds which have strongly marked secondary sexual characters, such as birds of paradise, humming-birds, the rupicola or rock-thrush, or any other such cases? many gallinaceous birds certainly are polygamous. i suppose that birds may be known not to be polygamous if they are seen during the whole breeding season to associate in pairs, or if the male incubates, or aids in feeding the young. will you have the kindness to turn this in your mind? but it is a shame to trouble you now that, as i am _heartily_ glad to hear, you are at work on your malayan travels. i am fearfully puzzled how far to extend your protective views with respect to the females in various classes. the more i work, the more important sexual selection apparently comes out. can butterflies be polygamous?--i.e. will one male impregnate more than one female? forgive me troubling you, and i daresay i shall have to ask your forgiveness again, and believe me, my dear wallace, yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--baker has had the kindness to set the entomological society discussing the relative numbers of the sexes in insects, and has brought out some very curious results. is the orang polygamous? but i daresay i shall find that in your papers in (i think) the _annals and magazine of natural history_. * * * * * the following group of letters deals with the causes of the sterility of hybrids (_see_ note in "more letters," p. ). darwin's final view is given in the "origin," th edit., , p. . he acknowledges that it would be advantageous to two incipient species if, by physiological isolation due to mutual sterility, they could be kept from blending; but he continues: "after mature reflection, it seems to me that this could not have been effected through natural selection." and finally he concludes (p. ): "but it would be superfluous to discuss this question in detail; for with plants we have conclusive evidence that the sterility of crossed species must be due to some principle quite independent of natural selection. both gäartner and kolreuter have proved that in genera including numerous species a series can be formed from species which, when crossed, yield fewer and fewer seeds, to species which never produce a single seed, but yet are affected by the pollen of certain other species, for the germen swells. it is here manifestly impossible to select the more sterile individuals, which have already ceased to yield seeds; so that this acme of sterility, when the germen alone is affected, cannot have been gained through selection; and from the laws governing the various grades of sterility being so uniform throughout the animal and vegetable kingdoms, we may infer that the cause, whatever it may be, is the same or nearly the same in all cases." wallace still adhered to his view (_see_ "darwinism," , p. , _also_ p. of "more letters," note , and letter , p. ). the discussion of began with a letter from wallace, written towards the end of february, giving his opinion on the "variation of animals and plants"; the discussion on the sterility of hybrids is at p. , vol. ii., st edit. * * * * * (_second and third sheets of a letter from wallace, apparently of february, ._) i am in the second volume of your book, and i have been astonished at the immense number of interesting facts you have brought together. i read the chapter on pangenesis first, for i could not wait. i can hardly tell you how much i admire it. it is a positive _comfort_ to me to have any feasible explanation of a difficulty that has always been haunting me, and i shall never be able to give it up till a better one supplies its place, and that i think hardly possible. you have now fairly beaten spencer on his own ground, for he really offered no solution of the difficulties of the problem. the incomprehensible minuteness and vast numbers of the physiological germs or atoms (which themselves must be compounded of numbers of spencer's physiological units) is the only difficulty, but that is only on a par with the difficulties in all conceptions of matter, space, motion, force, etc. as i understood spencer, his physiological units were identical throughout each species, but slightly different in each different species; but no attempt was made to show how the identical form of the parent or ancestors came to be built up of such units. the only parts i have yet met with where i somewhat differ from your views are in the chapter on the causes of variability, in which i think several of your arguments are unsound: but this is too long a subject to go into now. also, i do not see your objection to _sterility_ between allied species having been aided by natural selection. it appears to me that, given a differentiation of a species into two forms, each of which was adapted to a special sphere of existence, every slight degree of sterility would be a positive advantage, not to the _individuals_ who were sterile, but to _each form_. if you work it out, and suppose the two incipient species a, b to be divided into two groups, one of which contains those which are fertile when the two are crossed, the other being slightly sterile, you will find that the latter will certainly supplant the former in the struggle for existence, remembering that you have shown that in such a cross the offspring would be _more vigorous_ than the pure breed, and would therefore certainly soon supplant them, and as these would not be so well adapted to any special sphere of existence as the pure species a and b, they would certainly in their turn give way to a and b. i am sure all naturalists will be disgusted at the malicious and ignorant article in the _athenæum_. it is a disgrace to the paper, and i hope someone will publicly express the general opinion of it. we can expect no good reviews of your book till the quarterlies or best monthlies come out.... i shall be anxious to see how pangenesis is received.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. february , ._ my dear wallace,--you cannot well imagine how much i have been pleased by what you say about pangenesis. none of my friends will speak out, except, to a certain extent, sir h. holland,[ ] who found it very tough reading, but admits that some view "closely akin to it" will have to be admitted. hooker, as far as i understand him, which i hardly do at present, seems to think that the hypothesis is little more than saying that organisms have such and such potentialities. what you say exactly and fully expresses my feeling, viz. that it is a relief to have some feasible explanation of the various facts, which can be given up as soon as any better hypothesis is found. it has certainly been an immense relief to my mind; for i have been stumbling over the subject for years, dimly seeing that some relation existed between the various classes of facts. i now hear from h. spencer that his views quoted in my footnote refer to something quite distinct, as you seem to have perceived. i shall be very glad to hear, at some future day, your criticisms on the causes of variability. indeed, i feel sure that i am right about sterility and natural selection. two of my grown-up children who are acute reasoners have two or three times at intervals tried to prove me wrong, and when your letter came they had another try, but ended by coming back to my side. i do not quite understand your case, and we think that a word or two is misplaced. i wish some time you would consider the case under the following point of view. if sterility is caused or accumulated through natural selection, then, as every degree exists up to absolute barrenness, natural selection must have the power of increasing it. now take two species, a and b, and assume that they are (by any means) half-sterile, i.e. produce half the full number of offspring. now try and make (by natural selection) a and b absolutely sterile when crossed, and you will find how difficult it is. i grant, indeed it is certain, that the degree of sterility of the individuals of a and b will vary, but any such extra-sterile individuals of, we will say, a, if they should hereafter breed with other individuals of a, will bequeath no advantage to their progeny, by which these families will tend to increase in number over other families of a, which are not more sterile when crossed with b. but i do not know that i have made this any clearer than in the chapter in my book. it is a most difficult bit of reasoning, which i have gone over and over again on paper with diagrams. i shall be intensely curious to see your article in the _journal of travel_. many thanks for such answers as you could give. from what you say i should have inferred that birds of paradise were probably polygamous. but after all, perhaps it is not so important as i thought. i have been going through the whole animal kingdom in reference to sexual selection, and i have just got to the beginning of lepidoptera, i.e. to end of insects, and shall then pass on to vertebrata. but my ladies next week are going (ill-luck to it) to take me nolens-volens to london for a whole month. i suspect owen wrote the article in the _athenæum_, but i have been told that it is berthold seeman. the writer despises and hates me. hearty thanks for your letter--you have indeed pleased me, for i had given up the great god pan as a stillborn deity. i wish you could be induced to make it clear with your admirable powers of elucidation in one of the scientific journals. i think we almost entirely agree about sexual selection, as i now follow you to large extent about protection to females, having always believed that colour was often transmitted to both sexes; but i do not go quite so far about protection.--always yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint. march , ._ my dear darwin,--i beg to enclose what appears to me a demonstration, _on your own principles_, that natural selection _could_ produce _sterility of hybrids_. if it does not convince you i shall be glad if you will point out where the fallacy lies. i have taken the two cases of a slight sterility overcoming a perfect fertility, and of a perfect sterility overcoming a partial fertility--the beginning and end of the process. you admit that variations in fertility and sterility occur, and i think you will also admit that if i demonstrate that a considerable amount of sterility would be advantageous to a variety, that is sufficient proof that the slightest variation in that direction would be useful also, and would go on accumulating. sir c. lyell spoke to me as if he greatly admired pangenesis. i am very glad h. spencer at once acknowledges that his view was something quite distinct from yours. although, as you know, i am a great admirer of his, i feel how completely his view failed to go to the root of the matter, as yours does. his explained nothing, though he was evidently struggling hard to find an explanation. yours, as far as i can see, explains everything in _growth and reproduction_, though of course the mystery of _life_ and _consciousness_ remains as great as ever. parts of the chapter on pangenesis i found hard reading, and have not quite mastered yet, and there are also throughout the discussions in vol. ii. many bits of hard reading on minute points which we, who have not worked experimentally at cultivation and crossing as you have done, can hardly see the importance of, or their bearing on the general question. if i am asked, i may perhaps write an article on the book for some periodical, and if so shall do what i can to make pangenesis appreciated. i suppose mrs. darwin thinks you _must_ have a holiday, after the enormous labour of bringing out such a book as that. i am sorry i am not now staying in town. i shall, however, be up for two days on thursday, and shall hope to see you at the linnean, where mr. trimen has a paper on some of his wonderful south african mimetic butterflies. i hope this will reach you before you leave.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint. march , ._ dear darwin,--i am very sorry your letter came back here while i was going to town, or i should have been very pleased to have seen you. trimen's paper at the linnean was a very good one, but the only opponents were andrew murray and b. seeman. the former talked utter nonsense about the "harmony of nature" produced by "polarisation," alike in "rocks, plants and animals," etc. etc. etc. and seeman objected that there was mimicry among plants, and that our theory would not explain it. lubbock answered them both in his best manner. pray take your rest, and put my last notes by till you return to down, or let your son discover the fallacies in them. would you like to see the specimens of pupæ of butterflies whose colours have changed in accordance with the colour of the surrounding objects? they are very curious, and mr. t.w. wood, who bred them, would, i am sure, be delighted to bring them to show you. his address is stanhope street, hampstead road, n.w.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. darwin had already written a short note to wallace expressing a general dissent from his views. * * * * * _ chester place, regent's park, n.w. march , ._ my dear wallace,--many thanks about pieridæ. i have no photographs up here, but will remember to send one from down. should you care to have a large one, of treble or quadruple common size, i will with pleasure send you one under glass cover, to any address you like in london, either now or hereafter. i grieve to say we shall not be here on april nd, as we return home on the st. in summer i hope that mrs. wallace and yourself will pay us a visit at down, soon after you return to london; for i am sure you will allow me the freedom of an invalid. my paper to-morrow at the linnean society is simply to prove, alas! that primrose and cowslip are as good species as any in the world, and that there is no trustworthy evidence of one producing the other. the only interesting point is the frequency of the production of natural hybrids, i.e. oxlips, and the existence of one kind of oxlip which constitutes a third good and distinct species. i do not suppose that i shall be able to attend the linnean society to-morrow. i have been working hard in collecting facts on sexual selection every morning in london, and have done a good deal; but the subject grows more and more complex, and in many respects more difficult and doubtful. i have had grand success this morning in tracing gradational steps by which the peacock tail has been developed: i quite feel as if i had seen a long line of its progenitors. i do not feel that i shall grapple with the sterility argument till my return home; i have tried once or twice and it has made my stomach feel as if it had been placed in a vice. your paper has driven three of my children half-mad--one sat up to twelve o'clock over it. my second son, the mathematician, thinks that you have omitted one almost inevitable deduction which apparently would modify the result. he has written out what he thinks, but i have not tried fully to understand him. i suppose that you do not care enough about the subject to like to see what he has written? i hope your book progresses. i am intensely anxious to see your paper in _murray's journal_.--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint. march , ._ dear darwin,--i should very much value a _large_ photograph of you, and also a carte for my album, though it is too bad to ask you for both, as you must have so many applicants. i am sorry i shall not see you in town, but shall look forward with pleasure to paying you a visit in the summer. i am sorry about the primulas, but i feel sure some such equally good case will some day be discovered, for it seems impossible to understand how all natural species whatever should have acquired sterility. closely allied forms from adjacent islands would, i should think, offer the best chance of finding good species fertile _inter se_; since even if natural selection induces sterility i do not see how it could affect them, or why they should _always_ be sterile, and varieties _never_. i am glad you have got good materials on sexual selection. it is no doubt a difficult subject. one difficulty to me is, that i do not see how the constant _minute_ variations, which are sufficient for natural selection to work with, could be _sexually_ selected. we seem to require a series of bold and abrupt variations. how can we imagine that an inch in the tail of a peacock, or a quarter of an inch in that of the bird of paradise, would be noticed and preferred by the female? pray let me see what your son says about the sterility selection question. i am deeply interested in all that concerns the powers of natural selection, but, though i admit there are a few things it cannot do, i do not yet believe sterility to be one of them. in case your son has turned his attention to mathematical physics, will you ask him to look at the enclosed question, which i have vainly attempted to get an answer to?--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ chester place, regent's park, n.w. march - , ._ my dear wallace,--i have sent your query to cambridge to my son. he ought to answer it, for he got his place of second wrangler chiefly by solving very difficult problems. i enclose his remarks on two of your paragraphs: i should like them returned some time, for i have not studied them, and let me have your impression. i have told e. edwards to send one of my large photographs to you addressed to - / westbourne grove, not to be forwarded. when at home i will send my carte. the sterility is a most [? puzzling] problem. i can see so far, but i am hardly willing to admit all your assumptions, and even if they were all admitted, the process is so complex and the sterility (as you remark in your note) so universal, even with species inhabiting quite distinct countries (as i remarked in my chapter), together with the frequency of a difference in reciprocal unions, that i cannot persuade myself that it has been gained by natural selection, any more than the difficulty of grafting distinct genera and the impossibility of grafting distinct families. you will allow, i suppose, that the capacity of grafting has not been directly acquired through natural selection. i think that you will be pleased with the second volume or part of lyell's principles, just out. in regard to sexual selection. a girl sees a handsome man, and without observing whether his nose or whiskers are the tenth of an inch longer or shorter than in some other man, admires his appearance and says she will marry him. so, i suppose, with the pea-hen; and the tail has been increased in length merely by, on the whole, presenting a more gorgeous appearance. jenner weir, however, has given me some facts showing that birds apparently admire details of plumage.--yours most sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint. march , [ ?]._ dear darwin,--many thanks for the photo, which i shall get when i go to town. i return your son's notes with my notes on them. without going into any details, is not this a strong general argument?-- . a species varies occasionally in two directions, but owing to their free intercrossing they (the variations) never increase. . a change of conditions occurs which threatens the existence of the species, but the _two varieties_ are adapted to the changing conditions, and, if accumulated, will form two new _species adapted to the new conditions_. . free crossing, however, renders this impossible, and so the species is in danger of extinction. . if _sterility_ could be induced, then the pure races would increase more rapidly and replace the old species. . it is admitted that _partial sterility_ between _varieties_ does occasionally occur. it is admitted the _degree_ of this sterility _varies_. is it not probable that natural selection can accumulate these variations and thus save the species? if natural selection can _not_ do this, how do species ever arise, except when a variety is isolated? closely allied species in distinct countries being sterile is no difficulty, for either they diverged from a common ancestor in contact, and natural selection increased the sterility, or they were isolated, and have varied since, in which case they have been for ages influenced by distinct conditions which may well produce sterility. if the difficulty of _grafting_ was as great as the difficulty of _crossing_, and as _regular_, i admit it would be a most serious objection. but it is not. i believe many distinct species can be grafted while others less distinct cannot. the regularity with which natural species are sterile together, even when _very much alike_, i think is an argument in favour of the sterility having been generally produced by natural selection for the good of the species. the other difficulty, of unequal sterility of reciprocal crosses, seems none to me; for it is a step to more complete sterility, and as such would be useful and would be increased by selection. i have read sir c. lyell's second volume with great pleasure. he is, as usual, very cautious, and hardly ever expresses a positive opinion, but the general effect of the whole book is very strong, as the argument is all on our side. i am in hopes it will bring in a new set of converts to natural selection, and will at all events lead to a fresh ventilation of the subject.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ chester place, regent's park, n.w. march , ._ my dear wallace,--my son has failed in your problem, and says that it is "excessively difficult": he says you will find something about it in thomson and tait, "natural philosophy" (art. ). he has, however, sent the solution, if the plate rested on a square rim, but he supposes this will not answer your purpose; nevertheless, i have forwarded it by this same post. it seems that the rim being round makes the problem much more difficult. i enclose my photograph, which i have received from down. i sent your answer to george on his objection to your argument on sterility, but have not yet heard from him. i dread beginning to think over this fearful problem, which i believe beats the plate on the circular rim; but i will sometime. i foresee, however, that there are so many doubtful points that we shall never agree. as far as a glance serves it seems to me, perhaps falsely, that you sometimes argue that hybrids have an advantage from greater vigour, and sometimes a disadvantage from not being so well fitted to their conditions. heaven protect my stomach whenever i attempt following your argument!--yours most sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent. april , ._ my dear wallace,--i have been considering the terrible problem. let me first say that no man could have more earnestly wished for the success of natural selection in regard to sterility than i did, and when i considered a general statement (as in your last note) i always felt sure it could be worked out, but always failed in detail, the cause being, as i believe, that natural selection cannot effect what is not good for the individual, including in this term a social community. it would take a volume to discuss all the points; and nothing is so humiliating to me as to agree with a man like you (or hooker) on the premises and disagree about the result. i agree with my son's argument and not with rejoinder. the cause of our difference, i think, is that i look at the number of offspring as an important element (all circumstances remaining the same) in keeping up the average number of individuals within any area. i do not believe that the amount of food by any means is the sole determining cause of number. lessened fertility is equivalent to a new source of destruction. i believe if in one district a species produce _from any cause_ fewer young, the deficiency would be supplied from surrounding districts. this applies to your par. . if the species produced fewer young from any cause in _every_ district, it would become extinct unless its fertility were augmented through natural selection (_see_ h. spencer). i demur to the probability and almost to the possibility of par. , as you start with two forms, within the same area, which are not mutually sterile, and which yet have supplanted the parent-form (par. ). i know of no ghost of a fact supporting belief that disinclination to cross accompanies sterility. it cannot hold with plants, or the lower fixed aquatic animals. i saw clearly what an immense aid this would be, but gave it up. disinclination to cross seems to have been independently acquired, probably by natural selection; and i do not see why it would not have sufficed to have prevented incipient species from blending to have simply increased sexual disinclination to cross. par. : i demur to a certain extent to amount of sterility and structural dissimilarity necessarily going together, except indirectly and by no means strictly. look at the case of pigeons, fowls, and cabbages. i overlooked the advantage of the half-sterility of reciprocal crosses; yet, perhaps from novelty, i do not feel inclined to admit the probability of natural selection having done its work so clearly. i will not discuss the second case of utter sterility; but your assumptions in par. seem to me much too complicated. i cannot believe so universal an attribute as utter sterility between remote species was acquired in so complex a manner. i do not agree with your rejoinder on grafting; i fully admit that it is not so closely restricted as crossing; but this does not seem to me to weaken the case as one of analogy. the incapacity of grafting is likewise an invariable attribute of plants sufficiently remote from each other, and sometimes of plants pretty closely allied. the difficulty of increasing the sterility, through natural selection, of two already sterile species seems to me best brought home by considering an actual case. the cowslip and primrose are moderately sterile, yet occasionally produce hybrids: now these hybrids, two or three or a dozen in a whole parish, occupy ground which _might_ have been occupied by either pure species, and no doubt the latter suffer to this small extent. but can you conceive that any individual plants of the primrose and cowslip, which happened to be mutually rather more sterile (i.e. which when crossed yielded a few less seeds) than usual, would profit to such a degree as to increase in number to the ultimate exclusion of the present primrose and cowslip? i cannot. my son, i am sorry to say, cannot see the full force of your rejoinder in regard to the second head of continually augmented sterility. you speak in this rejoinder, and in par. , of all the individuals becoming in some slight degree sterile in certain districts; if you were to admit that by continued exposure to these same conditions the sterility would inevitably increase, there would be no need of natural selection. but i suspect that the sterility is not caused so much by any particular conditions, as by long habituation to conditions of any kind. to speak according to pangenesis, the gemmules of hybrids are not injured, for hybrids propagate freely by buds; but their reproductive organs are somehow affected, so that they cannot accumulate the proper gemmules, in nearly the same manner as the reproductive organs of a pure species become affected when exposed to unnatural conditions. this is a very ill-expressed and ill-written letter. do not answer it, unless the spirit urges you. life is too short for so long a discussion. we shall, i _greatly_ fear, never agree.--my dear wallace, most sincerely yours, ch. darwin. * * * * * _hurstpierpoint. [?] april , ._ dear darwin,--i am sorry you should have given yourself the trouble to answer my ideas on sterility. if you are not convinced, i have little doubt but that i am wrong; and in fact i was only _half convinced_ by my own arguments, and i now think there is about an even chance that natural selection may or not be able to accumulate sterility. if my first proposition is modified to _the existence of a species and a variety in the same area_, it will do just as well for my argument. such certainly do exist. they are fertile together, and yet each maintains itself tolerably distinct. how can this be, if there is no disinclination to crossing? my belief certainly is that number of offspring is not so important an element in keeping up population of a species as supply of food and other favourable conditions, because the numbers of a species constantly vary greatly in different parts of its area, whereas the average number of offspring is not a very variable element. however, i will say no more but leave the problem as insoluble, only fearing that it will become a formidable weapon in the hands of the enemies of natural selection. while writing a few pages on the northern alpine forms of plants on the java mountains i wanted a few cases to refer to like teneriffe, where there are no _northern_ forms, and scarcely any alpine. i expected the volcanoes of hawaii would be a good case, and asked dr. seeman about them. it seems a man has lately published a list of hawaiian plants, and the mountains swarm with european alpine genera and some species![ ] is not this most extraordinary and a puzzler? they are, i believe, truly oceanic islands in the absence of mammals and the extreme poverty of birds and insects, and they are within the tropics. will not that be a hard nut for you when you come to treat in detail on geographical distribution? i enclose seeman's note, which please return when you have copied the list, if of any use to you. many thanks for your carte, which i think very good. the large one had not arrived when i was in town last week. sir c. lyell's chapter on oceanic islands i think very good.--believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. april , ._ my dear wallace,--you allude in your note to several points which i should much enjoy discussing with you did time and strength permit. i know dr. seeman is a good botanist, but i most strongly advise you to show the list to hooker before you make use of the materials in print. hooker seems much overworked, and is now gone a tour, but i suppose you will be in town before very long, and could see him. the list is quite unintelligible to me; it is not pretended that the same species exist in the sandwich islands and arctic regions; and as far as the genera are concerned, i know that in almost every one of them species inhabit such countries as florida, north africa, new holland, etc. therefore these, genera seem to me almost mundane, and their presence in the sandwich islands will not, as i suspect in my ignorance, show any relation to the arctic regions. the sandwich islands, though i have never considered them much, have long been a sore perplexity to me: they are eminently oceanic in position and productions; they have long been separated from each other; and there are only slight signs of subsidence in the islets to the westward. i remember, however, speculating that there must have been some immigration during the glacial period from north america or japan; but i cannot remember what my grounds were. some of the plants, i think, show an affinity with australia. i am very glad that you like lyell's chapter on oceanic islands, for i thought it one of the best in the part which i have read. if you do not receive the big photo of me in due time, let me hear.--yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * the following refers to wallace's article, "a theory of birds' nests," in andrew murray's _journal of travel_, i. . he here treats in fuller detail the view already published in the _westminster review_ for july, , p. . the rule which wallace believes, with very few exceptions, to hold good is, "that when both sexes are of strikingly gay and conspicuous colours, the nest is ... such as to conceal the sitting bird; while, whenever there is a striking contrast of colours, the male being gay and conspicuous, the female dull and obscure, the nest is open and the sitting bird exposed to view." at this time wallace allowed considerably more influence to _sexual_ selection (in combination with the need of protection) than in his later writings. see his letter to darwin of july , (p. ), which fixes the period at which the change in his views occurred. he finally rejected darwin's theory that colours "have been developed by the preference of the females, the more ornamented males becoming the parents of each successive generation." (_see_ "darwinism," , p. .) _down, bromley, kent, s.e. april , ._ my dear wallace,--i have been deeply interested by your admirable article on birds' nests. i am delighted to see that we really differ very little--not more than two men almost always will. you do not lay much or any stress on new characters spontaneously appearing in one sex (generally the male) and being transmitted exclusively, or more commonly only in excess, to that sex. i, on the other hand, formerly paid far too little attention to protection. i had only a glimpse of the truth. but even now i do not go quite as far as you. i cannot avoid thinking rather more than you do about the exceptions in nesting to the rule, especially the partial exceptions, i.e. when there is some little difference between the sexes in species which build concealed nests. i am now quite satisfied about the incubating males; there is so little difference in conspicuousness between the sexes. i wish with all my heart i could go the whole length with you. you seem to think that such birds probably select the most beautiful females: i must feel some doubt on this head, for i can find no evidence of it. though i am writing so carping a note, i admire the article _thoroughly_. and now i want to ask a question. when female butterflies are more brilliant than their males, you believe that they have in most cases, or in all cases, been rendered brilliant so as to mimic some other species and thus escape danger. but can you account for the males not having been rendered equally brilliant and equally protected? although it may be most for the welfare of the species that the female should be protected, yet it would be some advantage, certainly no disadvantage, for the unfortunate male to enjoy an equal immunity from danger. for my part, i should say that the female alone had happened to vary in the right manner, and that the beneficial variations had been transmitted to the same sex alone. believing in this, i can see no improbability (but from analogy of domestic animals a strong probability): the variations leading to beauty must _often_ have occurred in the males alone, and been transmitted to that sex alone. thus i should account in many cases for the greater beauty of the male over the female, without the need of the protective principle. i should be grateful for an answer on this point. i hope that your eastern book progresses well.--my dear wallace, yours sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * sir clifford allbutt's view, referred to in the following letter, probably had reference to the fact that the sperm-cell goes, or is carried, to the germ-cell, never vice versa. in this letter darwin gives the reason for the "law" referred to. wallace has been good enough to supply the following note (may , ): "it was at this time that my paper on 'protective resemblance' first appeared in the _westminster review_, in which i adduced the greater, or, rather, the more continuous, importance of the female (in the lower animals) for the race, and my 'theory of birds' nests' (_journal of travel and natural history_, no. ), in which i applied this to the usually dull colours of female butterflies and birds. it is to these articles, as well as to my letters, that darwin chiefly refers." _down, bromley, kent, s.e. april , ._ my dear wallace,--your letter, like so many previous ones, has interested me much. dr. allbutt's view occurred to me some time ago, and i have written a short discussion on it. it is, i think, a remarkable law, to which i have found no exception. the foundation lies in the fact that in many cases the eggs or seeds require nourishment and protection by the mother-form for some time after impregnation. hence the spermatozoa and antherozoids travel in the lower aquatic animals and plants to the female, and pollen is borne to the female organ. as organisms rise in the scale it seems natural that the male should carry the spermatozoa to the females in his own body. as the male is the searcher he has received and gained more eager passions than the female; and, very differently from you, i look at this as _one_ great difficulty in believing that the males select the more attractive females; as far as i can discover they are always ready to seize on any female, and sometimes on many females. nothing would please me more than to find evidence of males selecting the more attractive females [? _in pigeons_[ ]]: i have for months been trying to persuade myself of this. there is the case of man in favour of this belief, and i know in hybrid [_lizards'_[ ]] unions of males preferring particular females, but alas! not guided by colour. perhaps i may get more evidence as i wade through my twenty years' mass of notes. i am not shaken about the female protected butterflies: i will grant (only for argument) that the life of the male is of _very_ little value; i will grant that the males do not vary; yet why has not the protective beauty of the female been transferred by inheritance to the male? the beauty would be a gain to the male, as far as we can see, as a protection; and i cannot believe that it would be repulsive to the female as she became beautiful. but we shall never convince each other. i sometimes marvel how truth progresses, so difficult is it for one man to convince another unless his mind is vacant. nevertheless, i myself to a certain extent contradict my own remark; for i believe _far more_ in the importance of protection than i did before reading your articles. i do not think you lay nearly stress enough in your articles on what you admit in your letter, viz. "there seems to be some production of vividness ... of colour in the male independent of protection." this i am making a chief point; and have come to your conclusion so far that i believe that intense colouring in the female sex is often checked by being dangerous. that is an excellent remark of yours about no known case of the male _alone_ assuming protective colours; but in the cases in which protection has been gained by dull colours, i presume that sexual selection would interfere with the male losing his beauty. if the male alone had acquired beauty as a protection, it would be most readily overlooked, as males are so often more beautiful than their females. moreover, i grant that the loss of the male is somewhat less precious and thus there would be less rigorous selection with the male, so he would be less likely to be made beautiful through natural selection for protection. (this does not apply to sexual selection, for the greater the excess of males and the less precious their lives, so much the better for sexual selection.) but it seems to me a good argument, and very good if it could be thoroughly established.--yours most sincerely, c. darwin. i do not know whether you will care to read this scrawl. p.s.--i heard yesterday that my photograph had been sent to your london address--westbourne grove. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. may , ._ my dear wallace,--i am afraid i have caused you a great deal of trouble in writing to me at such length. i am glad to say that i agree almost entirely with your summary, except that i should put sexual selection as an equal or perhaps as even a more important agent in giving colour than natural selection for protection. as i get on in my work i hope to get clearer and more decided ideas. working up from the bottom of the scale i have as yet only got to fishes. what i rather object to in your articles is that i do not think anyone would infer from them that you place sexual selection even as high as no. in your summary. it was very natural that you should give only a line to sexual selection in the summary to the _westminster review_, but the result at first to my mind was that you attributed hardly anything to its power. in your penultimate note you say: "in the great mass of cases in which there is _great_ differentiation of colour between the sexes, i believe it is due _almost wholly_ to the need of protection to the female." now, looking to the whole animal kingdom i can at present by no means admit this view; but pray do not suppose that because i differ to a certain extent, i do not thoroughly admire your several papers and your admirable generalisation on birds' nests. with respect to this latter point, however, although following you, i suspect that i shall ultimately look at the whole case from a rather different point of view. you ask what i think about the gay-coloured females of pieris:[ ] i believe i quite follow you in believing that the colours are wholly due to mimicry; and i further believe that the male is not brilliant from not having received through inheritance colour from the female, and from not himself having varied; in short, that he has not been influenced by selection. i can make no answer with respect to the elephants. with respect to the female reindeer, i have hitherto looked at the horns simply as the consequence of inheritance _not_ having been limited by sex. your idea about colour being concentrated in the smaller males seems good, and i presume that you will not object to my giving it as your suggestion.--believe me, my dear wallace, with many thanks, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * wallace's more recent views on the question of natural selection and sterility may be found in a note written by him in : "when writing my 'darwinism' and coming again to the consideration of the problem of the effect of natural selection in accumulating variations in the amount of sterility between varieties or incipient species, twenty years later, i became more convinced than i was when discussing with darwin, of the substantial accuracy of my argument. recently a correspondent who is both a naturalist and a mathematician has pointed out to me a slight error in my calculation at p, (which does not, however, materially affect the result) disproving the physiological selection of the late dr. romanes, but he can see no fallacy in my argument as to the power of natural selection to increase sterility between incipient species, nor, so far as i am aware, has anyone shown such fallacy to exist. "on the other points on which i differed from mr. darwin in the foregoing discussion--the effect of high fertility on population of a species, etc.--i still hold the views i then expressed, but it would be out of place to attempt to justify them here."--a.r.w. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. august , [ ?]._ dear darwin,--i ought to have written before to thank you for the copies of your paper on "primula" and on "cross unions of dimorphic plants, etc." the latter is particularly interesting, and the conclusion most important; but i think it makes the difficulty of _how_ these forms, with their varying degrees of sterility, originated, greater than ever. if natural selection could not accumulate varying degrees of sterility for the plant's benefit, then how did sterility ever come to be associated with _one cross_ of a trimorphic plant rather than another? the difficulty seems to be increased by the consideration that the advantage of a cross with a _distinct individual_ is gained just as well by illegitimate as by legitimate unions. by what means, then, did illegitimate unions ever become sterile? it would seem a far simpler way for each plant's pollen to have acquired a prepotency on another individual's stigma over that of the same individual, without the extraordinary complication of three differences of structure and eighteen different unions with varying degrees of sterility! however, the fact remains an excellent answer to the statement that sterility of hybrids proves the absolute distinctness of the parents. i have been reading with great pleasure mr. bentham's last admirable address,[ ] in which he so well replies to the gross misstatements of the _athenæum_; and also says a word in favour of pangenesis. i think we may now congratulate you on having made a valuable convert, whose opinions on the subject, coming so late and being evidently so well considered, will have much weight. i am going to norwich on tuesday to hear dr. hooker, who i hope will boldly promulgate "darwinianism" in his address. shall we have the pleasure of seeing you there? i am engaged in negotiations about my book. hoping you are well and getting on with your next volumes, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _freshwater, isle of wight. august , ._ my dear wallace,--thanks for your note. i did sometimes think of going to norwich, for i should have very much liked it, but it has been quite out of the question. we have been here for five weeks for a change, and it has done me some little good; but i have been forced to live the life of a drone, and for a month before leaving home i was unable to do anything and had to stop all work. we return to down to-morrow. hooker has been here for two or three days, so that i have had much talk about his address. i am glad that you will be there. it is real good news that your book is so advanced that you are negotiating about its publication. with respect to dimorphic plants: it is a great puzzle, but i _fancy_ i partially see my way--too long for a letter and too speculative for publication. the groundwork of the acquirement of such peculiar fertility (for what you say about any other distinct individual being, as it would appear, sufficient, is very true) rests on the stamens and pistil having varied first in relative length, _as actually occurs_ irrespective of dimorphism, and the peculiar kind of fertility characteristic of dimorphic and the trimorphic plants having been _secondarily_ acquired. pangenesis makes _very_ few converts: g.h. lewes is one. i had become, before my nine weeks' horrid interruption of all work, extremely interested in sexual selection and was making fair progress. in truth, it has vexed me much to find that the further i get on, the more i differ from you about the females being dull-coloured for protection. i can now hardly express myself as strongly even as in the "origin." this has _much decreased_ the pleasure of my work. in the course of september, if i can get at all stronger, i hope to get mr. j. jenner weir (who has been _wonderfully_ kind in giving me information) to pay me a visit, and i will then write for the chance of your being able to come and, i hope, bring with you mrs. wallace. if i could get several of you together, it would be less dull for you, for of late i have found it impossible to talk with any human being for more than half an hour, except on extraordinarily good days.--believe me, my dear wallace, ever yours sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent. august , [ ?]._ dear darwin,--i was very sorry to hear you had been so unwell again, and hope you will not exert yourself to write me such long letters. darwinianism was in the ascendant at norwich (i hope you do not dislike the word, for we really _must_ use it), and i think it rather disgusted some of the parsons, joined with the amount of _advice_ they received from hooker and huxley. the worst of it is that there are no opponents left who know anything of natural history, so that there are none of the good discussions we used to have. g.h. lewes seems to me to be making a great mistake in the _fortnightly_, advocating _many distinct_ origins for different groups, and even, if i understand him, distinct origins for some allied groups, just as the anthropologists do who make the red man descend from the orang, the black man from the chimpanzee--or rather the malay and orang one ancestor, the negro and chimpanzee another. vogt told me that the germans are all becoming converted by your last book. i am certainly surprised that you should find so much evidence against protection having checked the acquirement of bright colour in females; but i console myself by presumptuously hoping that i can explain your facts, unless they are derived from the very groups on which i chiefly rest--birds and insects. there is nothing _necessarily_ requiring protection in females; it is a matter of habits. there are groups in which both sexes require protection in an exactly equal degree, and others (i think) in which the male requires most protection, and i feel the greatest confidence that these will ultimately support my view, although i do _not_ yet know the facts they may afford. hoping you are in better health, believe me, dear darwin, yours faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. september , [ ?]._ dear darwin,--it will give me great pleasure to accept your kind invitation for next saturday and sunday, and my wife would very much like to come too, and will if possible. unfortunately, there is a new servant coming that very day, and there is a baby at the mischievous age of a year and a quarter to be left in somebody's care; but i daresay it will be managed somehow. i will drop a line on friday to say if we are coming the time you mention.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. _friday_. my dear darwin,--my wife has arranged to accompany me to-morrow, and we hope to be at orpington station at . , as mentioned by you.--very truly yours, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. september , ._ my dear wallace,--the beetles have arrived, and cordial thanks: i never saw such wonderful creatures in my life. i was thinking of something quite different. i shall wait till my son frank returns, before soaking and examining them. i long to steal the box, but return it by this post, like a too honest man. i am so much pleased about the male musk callichroma; for by odd chance i told frank a week ago that next spring he must collect at cambridge lots of cerambyx moschatus, for as sure as life he would find the odour sexual! you will be pleased to hear that i am undergoing severe distress about protection and sexual selection: this morning i oscillated with joy towards you; this evening i have swung back to the old position, out of which i fear i shall never get. i did most thoroughly enjoy my talk with you three gentlemen, and especially with you, and to my great surprise it has not knocked me up. pray give my kindest remembrances to mrs. wallace, and if my wife were at home she would cordially join in this.--yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. i have had this morning a capital letter from walsh of illinois; but details too long to give. * * * * * among wallace's papers was found the following draft of a letter of his to darwin: _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. september , ._ dear darwin,--the more i think of your views as to the colours of females, the more difficulty i find in accepting them, and as you are now working at the subject i hope it will not interrupt you to hear "counsel on the other side." i have a "general" and a "special" argument to submit. . female birds and insects are generally exposed to more danger than the male, and in the case of insects their existence is necessary for a longer period. . they therefore require in some way or other a special balance of protection. . now, if the male and female were distinct species, with different habits and organisations, you would, i think, at once admit that a difference of colour serving to make that one less conspicuous which evidently required more protection than the other had been acquired by natural selection. . but you admit that variations appearing in one sex are transmitted (often) to that sex only: there is therefore nothing to prevent natural selection acting on the two sexes as if they were two species. . your objection that the same protection would to a certain extent be useful to the male, seems to me utterly unsound, and directly opposed to your own doctrine so convincingly urged in the "origin," "_that natural selection never can improve an animal beyond its needs_." so that admitting abundant variation of colour in the male, it is impossible that he can be brought by natural selection to resemble the female (unless _her_ variations are always transmitted to _him_), because the _difference_ of their colours is to balance the _difference_ in their organisations and habits, and natural selection cannot give to the male _more_ than is needed to effect that balance. . the fact that in almost all protected groups the females perfectly resemble the males shows, i think, a tendency to transference of colour from one sex to the other when this tendency is not injurious. or perhaps the _protection_ is acquired because this tendency exists. i admit therefore in the case of concealed nests they [habits] may have been acquired for protection. now for the special case. . in the very weak-flying leptalis both sexes mimic heliconidæ. . in the much more powerful papilio, pieris, and diadema it is generally the _female only_ that mimics danaida. . in these cases the females often acquire more bright and varied colours than the male. sometimes, as in _pieris pyrrha_, conspicuously so. . no single case is known of a male papilio, pieris, diadema (or any other insect?) _alone_ mimicking a danais, etc. . but colour is more frequent in males, and _variations_ always seem ready for purposes of sexual or other selection. . the fair inference seems to be that given in proposition of the general argument, viz. that _each species_ and _each sex_ can only be modified by selection just as far as is absolutely necessary, not a step farther. a male, being by structure and habits less exposed to danger and less requiring protection than the female, cannot have more protection given to it by natural selection, but a female must have some extra protection to balance the greater danger, and she rapidly acquires it in one way or another. . an objection derived from cases like male fish, which seem to require protection, yet having brighter colours, seems to me of no more weight than is that of the existence of many white and unprotected species of leptalis to bates's theory of mimicry, that only one or two species of butterflies perfectly resemble leaves, or that the instincts or habits or colours that seem essential to the preservation of one animal are often totally absent in an allied species. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent. september , ._ my dear wallace,--i am very much obliged for all your trouble in writing me your long letter, which i will keep by me and ponder over. to answer it would require at least folio pages! if you could see how often i have rewritten some pages, you would know how anxious i am to arrive as near as i can to the truth. we differ, i think, chiefly from fixing our minds perhaps too closely on different points, on which we agree: i lay great stress on what i know takes place under domestication: i think we start with different fundamental notions on inheritance. i find it most difficult, but not, i think, impossible, to see how, for instance, a few red feathers appearing on the head of a male bird, and which _are at first transmitted to both sexes_, could come to be transmitted to males alone;[ ] but i have no difficulty in making the whole head red if the few red feathers in the male from the first tended to be sexually transmitted. i am quite willing to admit that the female may have been modified, either at the same time or subsequently, for protection, by the accumulation of variations limited in their transmission to the female sex. i owe to your writings the consideration of this latter point. but i cannot yet persuade myself that females _alone_ have often been modified for protection. should you grudge the trouble briefly to tell me whether you believe that the plainer head and less bright _colours_ of [female symbol][ ] chaffinch, the less red on the head and less clean colours of [female symbol] goldfinch, the much less red on breast of [female symbol] bullfinch, the paler crest of goldencrest wren, etc., have been acquired by them for protection? i cannot think so; any more than i can that the considerable differences between [female symbol] and [male symbol] house-sparrow, or much greater brightness of [male symbol] _parus cæruleus_ (both of which build under cover) than of [female symbol] parus are related to protection. i even misdoubt much whether the less blackness of blackbird is for protection. again, can you give me reason for believing that the merest differences between female pheasants, the female _gallus bankiva_, the female of black grouse, the pea-hen, female partridge, have all special reference to protection under slightly different conditions? i of course admit that they are all protected by dull colours, derived, as i think, from some dull-ground progenitor; and i account partly for their difference by partial transference of colour from the male, and by other means too long to specify; but i earnestly wish to see reason to believe that each is specially adapted for concealment to its environment. i grieve to differ from you, and it actually terrifies me, and makes me constantly distrust myself. i fear we shall never quite understand each other. i value the cases of bright-coloured, incubating male fishes--and brilliant female butterflies, solely as showing that one sex may be made brilliant without any necessary transference of beauty to the other sex; for in these cases i cannot suppose that beauty in the other sex was checked by selection. i fear this letter will trouble you to read it. a very short answer about your belief in regard to the [female symbol] finches and gallinaceæ would suffice.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, s.w. september , ._ dear darwin,--your view seems to be that variations occurring in one sex are transmitted either to that sex exclusively or to both sexes equally, or more rarely partially transferred. but we have every gradation of sexual colours from total dissimilarity to perfect identity. if this is explained solely by the laws of inheritance, then the colours of one or other sex will be always (in relation to their environment) a _matter of chance_. i cannot think this. i think selection more powerful than laws of inheritance, of which it makes use, as shown by cases of two, three or four forms of female butterflies, all of which have, i have little doubt, been specialised for protection. to answer your first question is most difficult, if not impossible, because we have no sufficient evidence in _individual cases of slight sexual difference_, to determine whether the male alone has acquired his superior brightness by sexual selection, or the female been made duller by need of protection, or whether the two causes have acted. many of the sexual differences of existing species may be inherited differences from parent forms who existed under different conditions and had greater or less need of protection. i think i admitted before the general tendency (probably) of males to acquire brighter tints. yet this cannot be universal, for many female birds and quadrupeds have equally bright tints. i think the case of [female symbol] _pieris pyrrha_ proves that females alone can be greatly modified for protection. to your second question i can reply more decidedly. i do think the females of the gallmaceæ you mention have been modified or been prevented from acquiring the brighter plumage of the male by need of protection. i know that the _gallus bankiva_ frequents drier and more open situations than the pea-hen of java, which is found among grassy and leafy vegetation corresponding with the colours of the two. so the argus pheasant, [male symbol] and [female symbol], are, i feel sure, protected by their tints corresponding to the dead leaves of the lofty forest in which they dwell, and the female of the gorgeous fire-back pheasant, _lophura viellottii_, is of a very similar _rich brown colour_. i do not, however, at all think the question can be settled by individual cases, but only by large masses of facts. the colours of the mass of female birds seem to me strictly analogous to the colours of both sexes of snipes, woodcocks, plovers, etc., which are undoubtedly protective. now, supposing, on your view, that the colours of a male bird become more and more brilliant by sexual selection, and a good deal of that colour is transmitted to the female till it becomes positively injurious to her during incubation and the race is in danger of extinction, do you not think that all the females who had acquired less of the male's bright colours or who themselves varied in a protective direction would be preserved, and that thus a good protective colouring would be acquired? if you admit that this could occur, and can show no good reason why it should not often occur, then we no longer differ, for this is the main point of my view. have you ever thought of the red wax-tips of the bombycilla beautifully imitating the red fructification of lichens used in the nest, and therefore the females have it too? yet this is a very sexual-looking character. we begin printing this week.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--pray don't distress yourself on this subject. it will all come right in the end, and after all it is only an episode in your great work.--a.r.w. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. october , ._ dear darwin,--i should have answered your letter before, but have been very busy reading over my mss. the last time before going to press, drawing maps, etc. etc. your first question cannot be answered, because we have not, in _individual cases_ of _slight sexual_ difference, sufficient evidence to determine how much of that difference is due to sexual selection acting on the male, how much to natural selection (protective) acting on the female, or how much of the difference may be due to inherited differences from ancestors who lived under different conditions. on your second question i can give an opinion. i do think the females of the gallinaceæ you mention have been either _modified_; or _prevented from acquiring much of the brighter plumage of the males_, by the need of protection. i know that _gallus bankiva_ frequents drier and more open situations than _pavo muticus_, which in java is found among grassy and leafy vegetation corresponding with the colours of the two females. so the argus pheasants, male and female, are, i feel sure, protected by their tints corresponding to dead leaves of the dry lofty forests in which they dwell; and the female of the gorgeous fire-back pheasant, _lophura viellottii_, is of a very similar rich brown colour. these and many other colours of female birds seem to me exactly analogous to the colours of _both sexes_ in such groups as the snipes, woodcocks, plovers, ptarmigan, desert birds, arctic animals, greenbirds. [the second page of this letter has been torn off. this letter and that of september appear both to answer the same letter from darwin. the last page of this or of another letter was placed with it in the portfolio of letters; it is now given.] i am sorry to find that our difference of opinion on this point is a source of anxiety to you. pray do not let it be so. the truth will come out at last, and our difference may be the means of setting others to work who may set us both right. after all, this question is only an episode (though an important one) in the great question of the origin of species, and whether you or i are right will not at all affect the main doctrine--that is one comfort. i hope you will publish your treatise on sexual selection as a separate book as soon as possible, and then while you are going on with your other work, there will no doubt be found someone to battle with me over your facts, on this hard problem. with best wishes and kind regards to mrs. darwin and all your family, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. october , ._ my dear wallace,--your letter is very valuable to me, and in every way very kind. i will not inflict a long answer, but only answer your queries. there are breeds (viz. hamburgh) in which both sexes differ much from each other and from both sexes of _g. bankiva_; and both sexes are kept constant by selection. the comb of spanish [male symbol] has been ordered to be upright and that of spanish [female symbol] to lop over, and this has been effected. there are sub-breeds of game fowl, with [female symbol]s very distinct and [male symbol]s almost identical; but this apparently is the result of spontaneous variation without special selection. i am very glad to hear of the case of [female symbol] birds of paradise. i have never in the least doubted the possibility of modifying female birds _alone_ for protection; and i have long believed it for butterflies: i have wanted only evidence for the females alone of birds having had their colours modified for protection. but then i believe that the variations by which a female bird or butterfly could get or has got protective colouring have probably from the first been variations limited in their transmission to the female sex; and so with the variations of the male, where the male is more beautiful than the female, i believe the variations were sexually limited in their transmission to the males. i am delighted to hear that you have been hard at work on your ms.--yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. january , ._ dear darwin,--it will give me very great pleasure if you will allow me to dedicate my little book of malayan travels to you, although it will be far too small and unpretending a work to be worthy of that honour. still, i have done what i can to make it a vehicle for communicating a taste for the higher branches of natural history, and i know that you will judge it only too favourably. we are in the middle of the second volume, and if the printers will get on, shall be out next month. have you seen in the last number of the _quarterly journal of science_ the excellent remarks on _fraser's_ article on natural selection failing as to man? in one page it gets to the heart of the question, and i have written to the editor to ask who the author is. my friend spruce's paper on palms is to be read to-morrow evening at the linnean. he tells me it contains a discovery which he calls "alteration of function." he found a clump of geonema all of which were females, and the next year the same clump were all males! he has found other facts analogous to this, and i have no doubt the subject is one that will interest you. hoping you are pretty well and are getting on steadily with your next volumes, and with kind regards to mrs. darwin and all your circle, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--have you seen the admirable article in the _guardian_ (!) on lyell's "principles"? it is most excellent and liberal. it is written by the rev. geo. buckle, of tiverton vicarage, bath, whom i met at norwich and found a thoroughly scientific and liberal parson. perhaps you have heard that i have undertaken to write an article for the _quarterly_ (!) on the same subject, to make up for that on "modern geology" last year not mentioning sir c. lyell. really, what with the tories passing radical reform bills and the church periodicals advocating darwinianism, the millennium must be at hand.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. january , ._ my dear wallace,--your intended dedication pleases me much and i look at it as a _great_ honour, and this is nothing more than the truth. i am glad to hear, for lyell's sake and on general grounds, that you are going to write in the _quarterly_. some little time ago i was actually wishing that you wrote in the _quarterly_, as i knew that you occasionally contributed to periodicals, and i thought that your articles would thus be more widely read. thank you for telling me about the _guardian_, which i will borrow from lyell. i did note the article in the _quarterly journal of science_ and put it aside to read again with the articles in _fraser_ and the _spectator_. i have been interrupted in my regular work in preparing a new edition[ ] of the "origin," which has cost me much labour, and which i hope i have considerably improved in two or three important points. i always thought individual differences more important than single variations, but now i have come to the conclusion that they are of paramount importance, and in this i believe i agree with you. fleeming jenkin's arguments have convinced me.[ ] i heartily congratulate you on your new book being so nearly finished.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. january , ._ dear darwin,--will you tell me _where_ are fleeming jenkin's arguments on the importance of single variation? because i at present hold most strongly the contrary opinion, that it is the individual differences or _general variability_ of species that enables them to become modified and adapted to new conditions. variations or "sports" may be important in modifying an animal in one direction, as in colour for instance, but how it can possibly work in changes requiring co-ordination of many parts, as in orchids for example, i cannot conceive. and as all the more important structural modifications of animals and plants imply much co-ordination, it appears to me that the chances are millions to one against _individual variations_ ever coinciding so as to render the required modification possible. however, let me read first what has convinced you. you may tell mrs. darwin that i have now a daughter. give my kind regards to her and all your family.--very truly yours, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. february , ._ my dear wallace,--i must have expressed myself atrociously; i meant to say exactly the reverse of what you have understood. f. jenkin argued in the _north british review_[ ] against single variations ever being perpetuated, and has convinced me, though not in quite so broad a manner as here put. i always thought individual differences more important, but i was blind and thought that single variations might be preserved much oftener than i now see is possible or probable. i mentioned this in my former note merely because i believed that you had come to similar conclusions, and i like much to be in accord with you. i believe i was mainly deceived by single variations offering such simple illustrations, as when man selects. we heartily congratulate you on the birth of your little daughter.--yours very sincerely, c. darwin. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. march , ._ my dear wallace,--i was delighted at receiving your book[ ] this morning. the whole appearance and the illustrations with which it [is] so profusely ornamented are quite beautiful. blessings on you and your publisher for having the pages cut and gilded. as for the dedication, putting quite aside how far i deserve what you say, it seems to me decidedly the best expressed dedication which i have ever met. the reading will probably last me a month, for i dare not have it read aloud, as i know that it will set me thinking. i see that many points will interest me greatly. when i have finished, if i have anything particular to say, i will write again. accept my cordial thanks. the dedication is a thing for my children's children to be proud of.--yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. march , ._ dear darwin,--thanks for your kind note. i could not persuade mr. macmillan to cut more than twenty-five copies for my own friends, and he even seemed to think this a sign of most strange and barbarous taste. mr. weir's paper on the kinds of larvæ, etc., eaten or rejected by insectivorous birds was read at the last meeting of the entomological society and was most interesting and satisfactory. his observations and experiments, so far as they have yet gone, confirm in _every instance_ my hypothetical explanation of the colours of caterpillars. he finds that all nocturnal-feeding obscure-coloured caterpillars, all _green_ and _brown_ and _mimicking_ caterpillars, are greedily eaten by almost every insectivorous bird. on the other hand, every gaily coloured, spotted or banded species, which never conceal themselves, and all spiny and hairy kinds, are _invariably rejected_, either without or after trial. he has also come to the curious and rather unexpected conclusion, that hairy and spiny caterpillars are not protected by their hairs, but by their nauseous taste, the hairs being merely an external mark of their uneatableness, like the gay colours of others. he deduces this from two kinds of facts: ( ) that very young caterpillars before the hairs are developed are equally rejected, and ( ) that in many cases the smooth pupæ and even the perfect insects of the same species are equally rejected. his facts, it is true, are at present not very numerous, but they all point one way. they seem to me to lend an immense support to my view of the great importance of protection in determining colour, for it has not only prevented the eatable species from ever acquiring bright colours, spots, or markings injurious to them, but it has also conferred on all the nauseous species distinguishing marks to render their uneatableness more protective to them than it would otherwise be. when you have read my book i shall be glad of any hints for corrections if it comes to another edition. i was horrified myself by coming accidentally on several verbal inelegancies after all my trouble in correcting, and i have no doubt there are many more important errors.--believe me, dear darwin, yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. march , ._ my dear wallace,--i have finished your book.[ ] it seems to me excellent, and at the same time most pleasant to read. that you ever returned alive is wonderful after all your risks from illness and sea voyages, especially that most interesting one to waigiou and back. of all the impressions which i have received from your book, the strongest is that your perseverance in the cause of science was heroic. your descriptions of catching the splendid butterflies have made me quite envious, and at the same time have made me feel almost young again, so vividly have they brought before my mind old days when i collected, though i never made such captures as yours. certainly collecting is the best sport in the world. i shall be astonished if your book has not a great success; and your splendid generalisations on geographical distribution, with which i am familiar from your papers, will be new to most of your readers. i think i enjoyed most the timor case, as it is best demonstrated; but perhaps celebes is really the most valuable. i should prefer looking at the whole asiatic continent as having formerly been more african in its fauna, than admitting the former existence of a continent across the indian ocean. decaisne's paper on the flora of timor, in which he points out its close relation to that of the mascarene islands, supports your view. on the other hand, i might advance the giraffes, etc., in the sewalik deposits. how i wish someone would collect the plants of banca! the puzzle of java, sumatra and borneo is like the three geese and foxes: i have a wish to extend malacca through banca to part of java and thus make three parallel peninsulas, but i cannot get the geese and foxes across the river. many parts of your book have interested me much: i always wished to hear an independent judgment about the rajah brooke, and now i have been delighted with your splendid eulogium on him. with respect to the fewness and inconspicuousness of the flowers in the tropics, may it not be accounted for by the hosts of insects, so that there is no need for the flowers to be conspicuous? as, according to humboldt, fewer plants are social in the tropical than in the temperate regions, the flowers in the former would not make so great a show. in your note you speak of observing some inelegancies of style. i notice none. all is as clear as daylight. i have detected two or three errata. in vol. i. you write lond_i_acus: is this not an error? vol. ii., p. : for _western_ side of aru read _eastern_. page : do you not mean the horns of the moose? for the elk has not palmated horns. i have only one criticism of a general nature, and i am not sure that other geologists would agree with me: you repeatedly speak as if the pouring out of lava, etc., from volcanoes actually caused the subsidence of an adjoining area. i quite agree that areas undergoing opposite movements are somehow connected; but volcanic outbursts must, i think, be looked at as mere accidents in the swelling tip of a great dome or surface of _plutonic_ rocks; and there seems no more reason to conclude that such swelling or elevation in mass is the cause of the subsidence than that the subsidence is the cause of the elevation; which latter view is indeed held by some geologists, i have regretted to find so little about the habits of the many animals which you have seen. in vol. ii., p. , i wish i could see the connection between variations having been first or long ago selected, and their appearance at an earlier age in birds of paradise than the variations which have subsequently arisen and been selected. in fact, i do not understand your explanation of the curious order of development of the ornaments of these birds. will you please to tell me whether you are sure that the female casuarius (vol. ii., p. ) sits on her eggs as well as the male?--for, if i am not mistaken, bartlett told me that the male alone, who is less brightly coloured about the neck, sits on the eggs. in vol. ii., p. , you speak of male savages ornamenting themselves more than the women, of which i have heard before; now, have you any notion whether they do this to please themselves, or to excite the admiration of their fellow-men, or to please the women, or, as is perhaps probable, from all three motives? finally, let me congratulate you heartily on having written so excellent a book, full of thought on all sorts of subjects. once again, let me thank you for the very great honour which you have done me by your dedication.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. vol. ii., p. : when in new zealand i thought the inhabitants a mixed race, with the type of tahiti preponderating over some darker race with more frizzled hair; and now that the stone instruments [have] revealed the existence of ancient inhabitants, is it not probable that these islands were inhabited by true papuans? judging from descriptions the pure tahitans must differ much from your papuans. * * * * * the reference in the following letter is to wallace's review, in the april number of the _quarterly_, of lyell's "principles of geology" (tenth edition), and of the sixth edition of the "elements of geology." wallace points out that here for the first time sir c. lyell gave up his opposition to evolution; and this leads wallace to give a short account of the views set forth in the "origin of species." in this article wallace makes a definite statement as to his views on the evolution of man, which were opposed to those of darwin. he upholds the view that the brain of man, as well as the organs of speech, the hand and the external form, could not have been evolved by natural selection (the "child" he is supposed to "murder "). at p. he writes: "in the brain of the lowest savages and, as far as we know, of the prehistoric races, we have an organ ... little inferior in size and complexity to that of the highest types.... but the mental requirements of the lowest savages, such as the australians or the andaman islanders, are very little above those of many animals.... how then was an organ developed far beyond the needs of its possessor? natural selection could only have endowed the savage with a brain a little superior to that of an ape, whereas he actually possesses one but very little inferior to that of the average members of our learned societies." this passage is marked in darwin's copy with a triply underlined "no," and with a shower of notes of exclamation. it was probably the first occasion on which he realised the extent of this great and striking divergence in opinion between himself and his colleague. he had, however, some indication of it in wallace's paper on man in the _anthropological review_, , referred to in his letter to wallace of may , , and again in that of april , . _down, bromley, kent, s.e. march , ._ my dear wallace,--i must send a line to thank you, but this note will require no answer. this very morning after writing i found that "elk" was used for "moose" in sweden, but i had been reading lately about elk and moose in north america. as you put the case in your letter, which i think differs somewhat from your book, i am inclined to agree, and had thought that a feather could hardly be increased in length until it had first grown to full length, and therefore it would be increased late in life and transmitted to a corresponding age. but the crossoptilon pheasant, and even the common pheasant, show that the tail feathers can be developed very early. thanks for other facts, which i will reflect on when i go again over my ms. i read all that you said about the dutch government with much interest, but i do not feel i know enough to form any opinion against yours. i shall be intensely curious to read the _quarterly_: i hope you have not murdered too completely your own and my child. i have lately, i.e. in the new edition of the "origin,"[ ] been moderating my zeal, and attributing much more to mere useless variability. i did think i would send you the sheet, but i daresay you would not care to see it, in which i discuss nägeli's essay on natural selection not affecting characters of no functional importance, and which yet are of high classificatory importance. hooker is pretty well satisfied with what i have said on this head. it will be curious if we have hit on similar conclusions. you are about the last man in england who would deviate a hair's breadth from his conviction to please any editor in the world.--yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--after all, i have thought of one question, but if i receive no answer i shall understand that (as is probable) you have nothing to say. i have seen it remarked that the men and women of certain tribes differ a little in shade or tint; but have you ever seen or heard of any difference in tint between the two sexes which did not appear to follow from a difference in habits of life? * * * * * _down, bromley, kent, s.e. april , ._ my dear wallace,--i have been wonderfully interested by your article,[ ] and i should think lyell will be much gratified by it. i declare if i had been editor and had the power of directing you i should have selected for discussion the very points which you have chosen. i have often said to younger geologists (for i began in the year ) that they did not know what a revolution lyell had effected; nevertheless, your extracts from cuvier have quite astonished me. though not able really to judge, i am inclined to put more confidence in croll than you seem to do; but i have been much struck by many of your remarks on degradation. thomson's views of the recent age of the world have been for some time one of my sorest troubles, and so i have been glad to read what you say. your exposition of natural selection seems to me inimitably good; there never lived a better expounder than you. i was also much pleased at your discussing the difference between our views and lamarck's. one sometimes sees the odious expression, "justice to myself compels me to say, etc.," but you are the only man i ever heard of who persistently does himself an injustice and never demands justice. indeed, you ought in the review to have alluded to your paper in the linnean _journal_, and i feel sure all our friends will agree in this, but you cannot "burke" yourself, however much you may try, as may be seen in half the articles which appear. i was asked but the other day by a german professor for your paper, which i sent him. altogether, i look at your article as appearing in the _quarterly_ as an immense triumph for our cause. i presume that your remarks on man are those to which you alluded in your note. if you had not told me i should have thought that they had been added by someone else. as you expected, i differ grievously from you, and i am very sorry for it. i can see no necessity for calling in an additional and proximate cause in regard to man. but the subject is too long for a letter. i have been particularly glad to read your discussion, because i am now writing and thinking much about man. i hope that your malay book sells well. i was extremely pleased with the article in the _q.j. of science_, inasmuch as it is thoroughly appreciative of your work. alas! you will probably agree with what the writer says about the uses of the bamboo. i hear that there is also a good article in the _saturday review_, but have heard nothing more about it.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours ever sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i have had a baddish fall, my horse partly rolling over me; but i am getting rapidly well. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. april , ._ dear darwin,--i am very glad you think i have done justice to lyell, and have also well "exposed" (as a frenchman would say) natural selection. there is nothing i like better than writing a little account of it, and trying to make it clear to the meanest capacity. the "croll" question is awfully difficult. i had gone into it more fully, but the editor made me cut out eight pages. i am very sorry indeed to hear of your accident, but trust you will soon recover and that it will leave no bad effects. i can quite comprehend your feelings with regard to my "unscientific" opinions as to man, because a few years back i should myself have looked at them as equally wild and uncalled for. i shall look with extreme interest for what you are writing on man, and shall give full weight to any explanations you can give of his probable origin. my opinions on the subject have been modified solely by the consideration of a series of remarkable phenomena, physical and mental, which i have now had every opportunity of fully testing, and which demonstrate the existence of forces and influences not yet recognised by science. this will, i know, seem to you like some mental hallucination, but as i can assure you from personal communication with them, that robert chambers, dr. norris of birmingham, the well-known physiologist, and c.f. varley, the well-known electrician, who have all investigated the subject for years, agree with me both as to the facts and as to the main inferences to be drawn from them, i am in hopes that you will suspend your judgment for a time till we exhibit some corroborative symptoms of insanity. in the meantime i can console you by the assurance that i _don't_ agree with the _q.j. of science_ about bamboo, and that i see no cause to modify any of my opinions expressed in my article on the "reign of law."--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. june , ._ dear darwin,--thank you very much for the copy of your fifth edition of the "origin." i have not yet read all the additions, but those i have looked at seem very interesting, though somewhat brief, but i suppose you are afraid of its great and rapid growth. a difficult sexual character seems to me the plumules or battledore scales on the wings of certain families and genera of butterflies, almost invariably changing in form with the species and genera in proportion to other changes, and always constant in each species yet confined to the males, and so small and mixed up with the other scales as to produce no effect on the colour or marking of the wings. how could sexual selection produce them? your correspondent mr. geach is now in england, and if you would like to see him i am sure he would be glad to meet you. he is staying with his brother (address guildford), but often comes to town. hoping that you have quite recovered from your accident and that the _great work_ is progressing, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--you will perhaps be pleased to hear that german, french, and danish translations of my "malay archipelago" are in progress.--a.r.w. * * * * * _caerleon, barmouth, n. wales. june , ._ my dear wallace,--we have been here a fortnight, and shall remain here till the beginning of august. i can say nothing good about my health, and i am so weak that i can hardly crawl half a mile from the house; but i hope i may improve, and anyhow the magnificent view of cader is enjoyable. i do not know that i have anything to ask mr. geach, nor do i suppose i shall be in london till late in the autumn, but i should be particularly obliged, if you have any communication with mr. geach, if you would express for me my _sincere_ thanks for his kindness in sending me the very valuable answers on expression. i wrote some months ago to him in answer to his last letter. i would ask him to down, but the fatigue to me of receiving a stranger is something which to you would be utterly unintelligible. i think i have heard of the scales on butterflies; but there are lots of sexual characters which quite baffle all powers of even conjecture. you are quite correct, that i felt forced to make all additions to the "origin" as short as possible. i am indeed pleased to hear, and fully expected, that your malay work would be known throughout europe. oh dear! what would i not give for a little more strength to get on with my work.--ever yours, c. darwin. i wish that you could have told me that your place in the new museum was all settled. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. october , ._ dear darwin,--i do not know your son's (mr. george darwin's) address at cambridge. will you be so good as to forward him the enclosed note begging for a little information? i was delighted to see the notice in the _academy_ that you are really going to bring out your book on man. i anticipate for it an enormous sale, and shall read it with intense interest, although i expect to find in it more to differ from than in any of your other books. some reasonable and reasoning opponents are now taking the field. i have been writing a little notice of murphy's "habit and intelligence," which, with much that is strange and unintelligible, contains some very acute criticisms and the statement of a few real difficulties. another article just sent me from the _month_ contains some good criticism. how incipient organs can be useful is a real difficulty, so is the independent origin of similar complex organs; but most of his other points, though well put, are not very formidable. i am trying to begin a little book on the distribution of animals, but i fear i shall not make much of it from my idleness in collecting facts. i shall make it a popular sketch first, and, if it succeeds, gather materials for enlarging it at a future time. if any suggestion occurs to you as to the kind of maps that would be best, or on any other essential point, i should be glad of a hint. i hope your residence in wales did you good. i had no idea you were so near dolgelly till i met your son there one evening when i was going to leave the next morning. it is a glorious country, but the time i like is may and june--the foliage is so glorious. sincerely hoping you are pretty well, and with kind regards to mrs. darwin and the rest of your family, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. october , ._ my dear wallace,--i forwarded your letter at once to my son george, but i am nearly sure that he will not be able to tell you anything; i wish he could for my own sake; but i suspect there are few men in england who could. pray send me a copy or tell me where your article on murphy will be published. i have just received the _month_, but have only read half as yet. i wish i knew who was the author; you ought to know, as he admires you so much; he has a wonderful deal of knowledge, but his difficulties have not troubled me much as yet, except the case of the dipterous larva. my book will not be published for a long time, but murray wished to insert some notice of it. sexual selection has been a tremendous job. fate has ordained that almost every point on which we differ should be crowded into this vol. have you seen the october number of the _revue des deux mondes?_ it has an article on you, but i have not yet read it; and another article, not yet read, by a very good man on the transformist school. i am very glad to hear that you are beginning a book, but do not let it be "little," on distribution, etc. i have no hints to give about maps; the subject would require long and anxious consideration. before forbes published his essay on distribution and the glacial period i wrote out and had _copied_ an essay on the same subject, which hooker read. if this ms. would be of any use to you, _on account of the references_ in it to papers, etc., i should be very glad to lend it, to be used in any way; for i foresee that my strength will never last out to come to this subject. i have been pretty well since my return from wales, though at the time it did me no good. we shall be in london next month, when i shall hope to see you.--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. december , [ ]._ dear darwin,--dr. adolf bernhard meyer, who translated my book into german, has written to me for permission to translate my original paper in the _linnean proceedings_ with yours, and wants to put my photograph and yours in it. if you have given him permission to translate the papers (which i suppose he can do without permission if he pleases), i write to ask which of your photographs you would wish to represent you in germany--the last, or the previous one by ernest edwards, which i think much the best--as if you like i will undertake to order them and save you any more trouble about it. it is, of course, out of the question our meeting to be photographed together, as mr. meyer coolly proposes. hoping you are well, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i have written a paper on geological time, which will appear in _nature_, and i _think_ i have hit upon a solution of your greatest difficulties in that matter.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. december , ._ my dear wallace,--i wrote to dr. meyer that the photographs in england would cost much and that they did not seem to me worth the cost to him, but that i of course had no sort of objection. i should be greatly obliged if you would kindly take the trouble to order any one which you think best: possibly it would be best to wait, unless you feel sure, till you hear again from dr. m. i sent him a copy of our joint paper. he has kindly sent me the translation of your book, which is splendidly got up, and which i thought i could not better use than by sending it to fritz müller in brazil, who will appreciate it. i liked your reviews on mr. murphy very much; they are capitally written, like everything which is turned out of your workshop. i was specially glad about the eye. if you agree with me, take some opportunity of bringing forward the case of perfected greyhound or racehorse, in proof of the possibility of the selection of many correlated variations. i have remarks on this head in my last book. if you throw light on the want of geological time, may honour, eternal glory and blessings crowd thick on your head.--yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. i forgot to say that i wrote to dr. m. to say that i should not soon be in london, and that, of all things in the world, i hate most the bother of sitting for photographs, so i declined with many apologies. i have recently refused several applications. * * * * * _ st. mark's crescent, n.w. january , ._ dear darwin,--my paper on geological time having been in type nearly two months, and not knowing when it will appear, i have asked for a proof to send you, huxley and lyell. the latter part only contains what i think is new, and i shall be anxious to hear if it at all helps to get over your difficulties. i have been lately revising and adding to my various papers bearing on the "origin of species," etc., and am going to print them in a volume immediately, under the title of "contributions to the theory of natural selection: a series of essays." in the last, i put forth my heterodox opinions as to man, and even venture to attack the huxleyan philosophy! hoping you are quite well and are getting on with your man book, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--when you have read the proof and done with it, may i beg you to return it to me?--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. january , [ ]._ my dear wallace,--i have been very much struck by your whole article (returned by this post), especially as to rate of denudation, for the still glaciated surfaces have of late most perplexed me. also _especially_ on the lesser mutations of climate during the last , years; for i quite think with you no cause so powerful in inducing specific changes, through the consequent migrations. your argument would be somewhat strengthened about organic changes having been formerly more rapid, if sir w. thomson is correct that physical changes were formerly more violent and abrupt. the whole subject is so new and vast that i suppose you hardly expect anyone to be at once convinced, but that he should keep your view before his mind and let it ferment. this, i think, everyone will be forced to do. i have not as yet been able to digest the fundamental notion of the shortened age of the sun and earth. your whole paper seems to me admirably clear and well put. i may remark that rütimeyer has shown that several wild mammals in switzerland since the neolithic period have had their dentition and, i _think_, general size _slightly_ modified. i cannot believe that the isthmus of panama has been open since the commencement of the glacial period; for, notwithstanding the fishes, so few shells, crustaceans, and, according to agassiz, not one echinoderm is common to the sides. i am very glad you are going to publish all your papers on natural selection: i am sure you are right, and that they will do our cause much good. but i groan over man--you write like a metamorphosed (in retrograde direction) naturalist, and you the author of the best paper that ever appeared in the _anthropological review_! eheu! eheu! eheu!--your miserable friend, c. darwin. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. march , ._ my dear wallace,--many thanks for the woodcut, which, judging from the rate at which i crawl on, will hardly be wanted till this time next year. whether i shall have it reduced, or beg mr. macmillan for a stereotype, as you said i might, i have not yet decided. i heartily congratulate you on your removal being over, and i much more heartily condole with myself at your having left london, for i shall thus miss my talks with you which i always greatly enjoy. i was excessively pleased at your review of galton, and i agree to every word of it. i must add that i have just re-read your article in the _anthropological review_, and _i defy_ you to upset your own doctrine.--ever yours very sincerely, ch. darwin * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. april , [ ]._ my dear wallace,--i have just received your book ["natural selection"][ ] and read the preface. there never has been passed on me, or indeed on anyone, a higher eulogium than yours. i wish that i fully deserved it. your modesty and candour are very far from new to me. i hope it is a satisfaction to you to reflect--and very few things in my life have been more satisfactory to me--that we have never felt any jealousy towards each other, though in one sense rivals. i believe that i can say this of myself with truth, and i am absolutely sure that it is true of you. you have been a good christian to give a list of your additions, for i want much to read them, and i should hardly have had time just at present to have gone through all your articles. of course, i shall immediately read those that are new or greatly altered, and i will endeavour to be as honest as can reasonably be expected. your book looks remarkably well got up.--believe me, my dear wallace, to remain yours very cordially, ch. darwin * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. june , ._ my dear wallace,--as imitation and protection are your subjects i have thought that you would like to possess the enclosed curious drawing. the note tells all i know about it.--yours very sincerely, ch. darwin p.s.--i read not long ago a german article on the colours of _female_ birds, and that author leaned rather strongly to your side about nidification. i forget who the author was, but he seemed to know a good deal.--c.d. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. july , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for the drawing. i must say, however, the resemblance to a snake is not very striking, unless to a cobra not found in america. it is also evident that it is not mr. bates's caterpillar, as that threw the head backwards so as to show the feet above, forming imitations of keeled scales. claparède has sent me his critique on my book. you will probably have it too. his arguments in reply to my heresy seem to me of the weakest. i hear you have gone to press, and i look forward with fear and trembling to being crushed under a mountain of facts! i hear you were in town the other day. when you are again, i should be glad to come at any convenient hour and give you a call. hoping your health is improving, and with kind remembrances to mrs. darwin and all your family, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * in "my life" (vol. ii., p. ) wallace wrote: "in the year mr. a.w. bennett read a paper before section d of the british association at liverpool entitled 'the theory of natural selection from a mathematical point of view,' and this paper was printed in full in _nature_ of november , . to this i replied on november , and my reply so pleased mr. darwin that he at once wrote to me as follows:" _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. november , ._ my dear wallace,--i must ease myself by writing a few words to say how much i and all others in this house admire your article in _nature_. you are certainly an unparalleled master in lucidly stating a case and in arguing. nothing ever was better done than your argument about the term "origin of species," and the consequences about much being gained, even if we know nothing about precise cause of each variation. by chance i have given a few words in my first volume, now some time printed off, about mimetic butterflies, and have touched on two of your points, viz. on species already widely dissimilar not being made to resemble each other, and about the variations in lepidoptera being often well pronounced. how strange it is that mr. bennett or anyone else should bring in the action of the mind as a leading cause of variation, seeing the beautiful and complex adaptations and modifications of structure in plants, which i do not suppose they would say had minds. i have finished the first volume, and am half-way through the first proof of the second volume, of my confounded book, which half kills me by fatigue, and which i much fear will quite kill me in your good estimation. if you have leisure i should much like a little news of you and your doings and your family.--ever yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. november , ._ dear darwin,--your letter gave me very great pleasure. we still agree, i am sure, on nineteen points out of twenty, and on the twentieth i am not inconvincible. but then i must be convinced by facts and arguments, not by high-handed ridicule such as claparède's. i hope you see the difference between such criticisms as his, and that in the last number of the _north american review_, where my last chapter is really criticised, point by point; and though i think some of it very weak, i admit that some is very strong, and almost converts me from the error of my ways. as to your new book, i am sure it will not make me think less highly of you than i do, unless you do, what you have never done yet, ignore facts and arguments that go against you. i am doing nothing just now but writing articles and putting down anti-darwinians, being dreadfully ridden upon by a horrid old-man-of-the-sea, who has agreed to let me have the piece of land i have set my heart on, and which i have been trying to get of him since last february, but who will not answer letters, will not sign an agreement, and keeps me week after week in anxiety, though i have accepted his own terms unconditionally, one of which is that i pay rent from last michaelmas! and now the finest weather for planting is going by. it is a bit of a wilderness that can be made into a splendid imitation of a welsh valley in little, and will enable me to gather round me all the beauties of the temperate flora which i so much admire, or i would not put up with the little fellow's ways. the fixing on a residence for the rest of your life is an important event, and i am not likely to be in a very settled frame of mind for some time. i am answering a. murray's geographical distribution of coleoptera for my entomological society presidential address, and am printing a second edition of my "essays," with a few notes and additions. very glad to see (by your writing yourself) that you are better, and with kind regards to all your family, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. january , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your first volume,[ ] which i have just finished reading through with the greatest pleasure and interest, and i have also to thank you for the great tenderness with which you have treated me and my heresies. on the subject of sexual selection and protection you do not yet convince me that i am wrong, but i expect your heaviest artillery will be brought up in your second volume, and i may have to capitulate. you seem, however, to have somewhat misunderstood my exact meaning, and i do not think the difference between us is quite so great as you seem to think it. there are a number of passages in which you argue against the view that the female has, in any large number of cases, been "specially modified" for protection, or that _colour_ has _generally_ been obtained by either sex for purposes of protection. but my view is, and i thought i had made it clear, that the female has (in most cases) been simply prevented from acquiring the gay tints of the male (even when there was a tendency for her to inherit it) because it was hurtful; and, that when protection is not needed, gay colours are so generally acquired by both sexes as to show that inheritance by both sexes of colour variations is the most usual, when _not prevented from acting_ by natural selection. the colour itself may be acquired either by sexual selection or by other unknown causes. there are, however, difficulties in the very wide application you give to sexual selection which at present stagger me, though no one was or is more ready than myself to admit the perfect truth of the principle or the immense importance and great variety of its applications. your chapters on man are of intense interest, but as touching my special heresy not as yet altogether convincing, though of course i fully agree with every word and every argument which goes to prove the "evolution" or "development" of man out of a lower form. my only difficulties are as to whether you have accounted for _every_ step of the development by ascertained laws. feeling sure that the book will keep up and increase your high reputation and be immensely successful, as it deserves to be, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. january , ._ my dear wallace,--your note has given me very great pleasure, chiefly because i was so anxious not to treat you with the least disrespect, and it is so difficult to speak fairly when differing from anyone. if i had offended you, it would have grieved me more than you will readily believe. secondly, i am greatly pleased to hear that vol. i. interests you; i have got so sick of the whole subject that i felt in utter doubt about the value of any part. i intended when speaking of the female not having been specially modified for protection to include the prevention of characters acquired by the [male symbol] being transmitted to the [female symbol]; but i now see it would have been better to have said "specially acted on," or some such term. possibly my intention may be clearer in vol. ii. let me say that my conclusions are chiefly founded on a consideration of all animals taken in a body, bearing in mind how common the rules of sexual differences appear to be in all classes. the first copy of the chapter on lepidoptera agreed pretty closely with you. i then worked on, came back to lepidoptera, and thought myself compelled to alter it, finished sexual selection, and for the last time went over lepidoptera, and again i felt forced to alter it. i hope to god there will be nothing disagreeable to you in vol. ii., and that i have spoken fairly of your views. i feel the more fearful on this head, because i have just read (but not with sufficient care) mivart's book,[ ] and i feel _absolutely certain_ that he meant to be fair (but he was stimulated by theological fervour); yet i do not think he has been quite fair: he gives in one place only half of one of my sentences, ignores in many places all that i have said on effects of use, speaks of my dogmatic assertion, "of false belief," whereas the end of paragraph seems to me to render the sentence by no means dogmatic or arrogant; etc. etc. i have since its publication received some quite charming letters from him. what an ardent (and most justly) admirer he is of you. his work, i do not doubt, will have a most potent influence versus natural selection. the pendulum will now swing against us. the part which, i think, will have most influence is when he gives whole series of cases, like that of whalebone, in which we cannot explain the gradational steps; but such cases have no weight on my mind--if a few fish were extinct, who on earth would have ventured even to conjecture that lung had originated in swim-bladder? in such a case as thylacines, i think he was bound to say that the resemblance of the jaw to that of the dog is superficial; the number and correspondence and development of teeth being widely different. i think, again, when speaking of the necessity of altering a number of characters together, he ought to have thought of man having power by selection to modify simultaneously or almost simultaneously many points, as in making a greyhound or racehorse--as enlarged upon in my "domestic animals." mivart is savage or contemptuous about my "moral sense," and so probably will you be. i am extremely pleased that he agrees with my position, _as far as animal nature is concerned_, of man in the series; or, if anything, thinks i have erred in making him too distinct. forgive me for scribbling at such length. you have put me quite in good spirits, i did so dread having been unintentionally unfair towards your views. i hope earnestly the second volume will escape as well. i care now very little what others say. as for our not quite agreeing, really in such complex subjects it is almost impossible for two men who arrive independently at their conclusions to agree fully--it would be unnatural for them to do so.--yours ever very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. march , ._ dear darwin,--i need not say that i read your second volume with, if possible, a greater interest than the first, as so many topics of special interest to me are treated of. you will not be surprised to find that you have not convinced me on the "female protection" question, but you _will_ be surprised to hear that i do not despair of convincing you. i have been writing, as you are aware, a review for the _academy_, which i tried to refuse doing, but the editor used as an argument the statement that you wished me to do so. it is not an easy job fairly to summarise such a book, but i hope i have succeeded tolerably. when i got to discussion, i felt more at home, but i most sincerely trust that i may not have let pass any word that may seem to you in the least too strong. you have not written a word about me that i could wish altered, but as i know you wish me to be candid with you, i will mention that you have quoted one passage in a note (p. , vol. ii.) which seems to me a caricature of anything i have written. now let me ask you to rejoice with me, for i have got my chalk pit, and am hard at work engineering a road up its precipitous slopes. i hope you may be able to come and see me there some day, as it is an easy ride from london, and i shall be anxious to know if it is equal to the pit in the wilds of kent mrs. darwin mentioned when i lunched with you. should your gardener in the autumn have any thinnings out of almost any kind of hardy plants they would be welcome, as i have near four acres of ground in which i want to substitute ornamental plants for weeds. with best wishes, and hoping you may have health and strength to go on with your great work, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. my review will appear next wednesday. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. march , ._ my dear wallace,--i have just read your grand review.[ ] it is in every way as kindly expressed towards myself as it is excellent in matter. the lyells have been here, and sir c. remarked that no one wrote such good scientific reviews as you, and, as miss buckley added, you delight in picking out all that is good, though very far from blind to the bad. in all this i most entirely agree. i shall always consider your review as a great honour, and however much my book may hereafter be abused, as no doubt it will be, your review will console me, notwithstanding that we differ so greatly. i will keep your objections to my views in my mind, but i fear that the latter are almost stereotyped in my mind, i thought for long weeks about the inheritance and selection difficulty, and covered quires of paper with notes, in trying to get out of it, but could not, though clearly seeing that it would be a great relief if i could. i will confine myself to two or three remarks. i have been much impressed with what you urge against colour[ ] in the case of insects having been acquired through sexual selection. i always saw that the evidence was very weak; but i still think, if it be admitted that the musical instruments of insects have been gained through sexual selection, that there is not the least improbability in colour having been thus gained. your argument with respect to the denudation of mankind, and also to insects, that taste on the part of one sex would have to remain nearly the same during many generations, in order that sexual selection should produce any effect, i agree to, and i think this argument would be sound if used by one who denied that, for instance, the plumes of birds of paradise had been so gained. i believe that you admit this, and if so i do not see how your argument applies in other cases. i have recognised for some short time that i have made a great omission in not having discussed, as far as i could, the acquisition of taste, its inherited nature, and its permanence within pretty close limits for long periods. one other point and i have done: i see by p. of your review that i must have expressed myself very badly to have led you to think that i consider the prehensile organs of males as affording evidence of the females exerting a choice. i have never thought so, and if you chance to remember the passage (but do not hunt for it), pray point it out to me. i am extremely sorry that i gave the note from mr. stebbing; i thought myself bound to notice his suggestion of beauty as a cause of denudation, and thus i was led on to give his argument. i altered the final passage which seemed to me offensive, and i had misgivings about the first part. i heartily wish i had yielded to these misgivings. i will omit in any future edition the latter half of the note. i have heard from miss buckley that you have got possession of your chalk pit, and i congratulate you on the tedious delay being over. i fear all our bushes are so large that there is nothing which we are at all likely to grub up. years ago we threw away loads of things. i should very much like to see your house and grounds; but i fear the journey would be too long. going even to kew knocks me up, and i have almost ceased trying to do so. once again let me thank you warmly for your admirable review.--my dear wallace, yours ever very sincerely, c. darwin. what an excellent address you gave about madeira, but i wish you had alluded to lyell's discussion on land shells, etc.--not that he has said a word on the subject. the whole address quite delighted me. i hear mr. crotch[ ] disputed some of your facts about the wingless insects, but he is a _crotchety_ man. as far as i remember, i did not venture to ask mr. appleton to get you to review me, but only said, in answer to an inquiry, that you would undoubtedly be the best, or one of the very few men who could do so effectively. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent, s.e. march , ._ my dear wallace,--very many thanks for the new edition of your essays. honour and glory to you for giving list of additions. it is grand as showing that our subject flourishes, your book coming to a new edition so soon. my book also sells immensely; the edition will, i believe, be , copies. i am tired with writing, for the load of letters which i receive is enough to make a man cry, yet some few are curious and valuable. i got one to-day from a doctor on the hair on backs of young weakly children, which afterwards falls off. also on hairy idiots. but i am tired to death, so farewell. thanks for your last letter. there is a very striking second article on my book in the _pall mall_. the articles in the _spectator_[ ] have also interested me much.--again farewell. c. darwin. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. may , ._ dear darwin,--have you read that very remarkable book "the fuel of the sun"? if not, get it. it solves the great problem of the almost unlimited duration of the sun's heat in what appears to me a most satisfactory manner. i recommended it to sir c. lyell, and he tells me that grove spoke very highly of it to him. it has been somewhat ignored by the critics because it is by a new man with a perfectly original hypothesis, founded on a vast accumulation of physical and chemical facts; but not being encumbered with any mathematical shibboleths, they have evidently been afraid that anything so intelligible could not be sound. the manner in which everything in physical astronomy is explained is almost as marvellous as the powers of natural selection in the same way, and naturally excites a suspicion that the respective authors are pushing their theories "a little too far." if you read it, get proctor's book on the sun at the same time, and refer to his coloured plates of the protuberances, corona, etc., which marvellously correspond with what matthieu williams's theory requires. the author is a practical chemist engaged in iron manufacture, and it is from furnace chemistry that he has been led to the subject. i think it the most original, most thoughtful and most carefully-worked-out theory that has appeared for a long time, and it does not say much for the critics that, as far as i know, its great merits have not been properly recognised. i have been so fully occupied with road-making, well-digging, garden- and house-planning, planting, etc., that i have given up all other work. do you not admire our friend miss buckley's admirable article in _macmillan_? it seems to me the best and most original that has been written on your book. hoping you are well, and are not working too hard, i remain yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. july , ._ my dear wallace,--i send by this post a review by chauncey wright, as i much want your opinion of it, as soon as you can send it. i consider you an incomparably better critic than i am. the article, though not very clearly written, and poor in parts for want of knowledge, seems to me admirable. mivart's book is producing a great effect against natural selection, and more especially against me. therefore, if you think the article even somewhat good, i will write and get permission to publish it as a shilling pamphlet, together with the ms. addition (enclosed), for which there was not room at the end of the review. i do not suppose i should lose more than £ or £ . i am now at work at a new and cheap edition of the "origin," and shall answer several points in mivart's book and introduce a new chapter for this purpose; but i treat the subject so much more concretely, and i daresay less philosophically, than wright, that we shall not interfere with each other. you will think me a bigot when i say, after studying mivart, i was never before in my life so convinced of the _general_ (i.e. not in detail) truth of the views in the "origin." i grieve to see the omission of the words by mivart, detected by wright.[ ] i complained to m. that in two cases he quotes only the commencement of sentences by me and thus modifies my meaning; but i never supposed he would have omitted words. there are other cases of what i consider unfair treatment. i conclude with sorrow that though he means to be honourable, he is so bigoted that he cannot act fairly. i was glad to see your letter in _nature_, though i think you were a little hard on the silly and presumptuous man. i hope that your house and grounds are progressing well, and that you are in all ways flourishing. i have been rather seedy, but a few days in london did me much good; and my dear good wife is going to take me somewhere, _nolens volens_, at the end of this month. c. darwin. * * * * * _holly home, barking, e. july , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for giving me the opportunity to read at my leisure the very talented article of mr. c. wright. his criticism of mivart, though very severe, is, i think, in most cases sound; but i find the larger part of the article so heavy and much of the language and argument so very obscure, that i very much doubt the utility of printing it separately. i do not think the readers of mivart could ever read it in that form, and i am sure your own answer to mivart's arguments will be so much more clear and to the point, that the other will be unnecessary. you might extract certain portions in your own chapter, such as the very ingenious suggestion as to the possible origin of mammary glands, as well as the possible use of the rattle of the rattlesnake, etc. i cannot see the force of mivart's objection to the theory of production of the long neck of the giraffe (suggested in my first essay), and which c. wright seems to admit, while his "watch-tower" theory seems to me more difficult and unlikely as a means of origin. the argument, "why haven't other allied animals been modified in the same way?" seems to me the weakest of the weak. i must say also i do not see any great reason to complain of the "words" left out by mivart, as they do not seem to me materially to affect the meaning. your expression, "and tends to depart in a slight degree," i think hardly grammatical; a _tendency_ to depart cannot very well be said to be in a slight degree; a _departure_ can, but a tendency must be either a _slight tendency_ or a _strong tendency_; the degree to which the departure may reach must depend on favourable or unfavourable causes in addition to the tendency itself. mivart's words, "and tending to depart from the parental type," seem to me quite unobjectionable as a paraphrase of yours, because the "tending" is kept in; and your own view undoubtedly is that the tendency may lead to an ultimate departure to any extent. mivart's error is to suppose that your words favour the view of _sudden departures_, and i do not see that the expression he uses really favours his view a bit more than if he had quoted your exact words. the expression of yours he relies upon is evidently "the whole organism seeming to have become plastic," and he argues, no doubt erroneously, that having so become "plastic," any amount or a larger amount of sudden variation in some direction is likely. mivart's greatest error, the confounding "individual variations" with "minute or imperceptible variations," is well exposed by c. wright, and that part i should like to see reprinted; but i always thought you laid too much stress on the slowness of the action of natural selection owing to the smallness and rarity of favourable variations. in your chapter on natural selection the expressions, "extremely slight modifications," "every variation even the slightest," "every grade of constitutional difference," occur, and these have led to errors such as mivart's, i say all this because i feel sure that mivart would be the last to intentionally misrepresent you, and he has told me that he was sorry the word "infinitesimal," as applied to variations used by natural selection, got into his book, and that he would alter it, as no doubt he has done, in his second edition. some of mivart's strongest points--the eye and ear, for instance--are unnoticed in the review. you will, of course, reply to these. his statement of the "missing link" argument is also forcible, and has, i have no doubt, much weight with the public. as to all his minor arguments, i feel with you that they leave natural selection stronger than ever, while the two or three main arguments do leave a lingering doubt in my mind of some fundamental organic law of development of which we have as yet no notion. pray do not attach any weight to my opinions as to the review. it is very clever, but the writer seems a little like those critics who know an author's or an artist's meaning better than they do themselves. my house is now in the hands of a contractor, but i am wall-building, etc., and very busy.--with best wishes, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. july , ._ my dear wallace,--very many thanks. as soon as i read your letter i determined, not to print the paper, notwithstanding my eldest daughter, who is a very good critic, thought it so interesting as to be worth reprinting. then my wife came in, and said, "i do not much care about these things and shall therefore be a good judge whether it is very dull." so i will leave my decision open for a day or two. your letter has been, and will be, of use to me in other ways: thus i had quite forgotten that you had taken up the case of the giraffe in your first memoir, and i must look to this. i feel very doubtful how far i shall succeed in answering mivart; it is so difficult to answer objections to doubtful points and make the discussion readable. i shall make only a selection. the worst of it is that i cannot possibly hunt through all my references for isolated points; it would take me three weeks of intolerably hard work. i wish i had your power of arguing clearly. at present i feel sick of everything, and if i could occupy my time and forget my daily discomforts or little miseries, i would never publish another word. but i shall cheer up, i daresay, soon, being only just got over a bad attack. farewell. god knows why i bother you about myself. i can say nothing more about missing links than what i have said. i should rely much on pre-silurian times; but then comes sir w. thomson like an odious spectre. farewell.--yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. i was grieved to see in the _daily news_ that the madman about the flat earth has been threatening your life. what an odious trouble this must have been to you. p.s.--there is a most cutting review of me in the _quarterly_:[ ] i have only read a few pages. the skill and style make me think of mivart. i shall soon be viewed as the most despicable of men. this _quarterly_ review tempts me to republish ch. wright, even if not read by anyone, just to show that someone will say a word against mivart, and that his (i.e. mivart's) remarks ought not to be swallowed without some reflection. i quite agree with what you say that mivart fully intends to be honourable; but he seems to me to have the mind of a most able lawyer retained to plead against us, and especially against me. god knows whether my strength and spirit will last out to write a chapter versus mivart and others; i do so hate controversy, and feel i should do it so badly. p.s.--i have now finished the review: there can be no doubt it is by mivart, and wonderfully clever. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. july , ._ dear darwin,--i am very sorry you are so unwell, and that you allow criticisms to worry you so. remember the noble army of converts you have made! and the host of the most talented men living who support you wholly. what do you think of putting c. wright's article as an appendix to the new edition of the "origin"? that would get it read, and obviate my chief objection, that the people who read mivart and the "origin" will very few of them buy a separate pamphlet to read. pamphlets are such nuisances. i don't think mivart could have written the _quarterly_ article, but i will look at it and shall, i think, be able to tell. pray keep your spirits up. i am so distracted by building troubles that i can write nothing, and i shall not, till i get settled in my new house, some time next spring, i hope.--with best wishes, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _haredene, albury, guildford. august , ._ my dear wallace,--your kind and sympathetic letter pleased me greatly and did me good, but as you are so busy i did not answer it. i write now because i have just received a very remarkable letter from fritz müller (with butterflies' wings gummed on paper as illustrations) on mimicry, etc. i think it is well worth your reading, but i will not send it, unless i receive a / d. card to this effect. he puts the difficulty of first start in imitation excellently, and gives wonderful proof of closeness of the imitation. he hints a curious addition to the theory in relation to sexual selection, which you will think madly hypothetical: it occurred to me in a very different class of cases, but i was afraid to publish it. it would aid the theory of imitative protection, _when the colours are bright_. he seems much pleased with your caterpillar theory. i wish the letter could be published, but without coloured illustrations [it] would, i fear, be unintelligible. i have not yet made up my mind about wright's review; i shall stop till i hear from him. your suggestion would make the "origin," already too large, still more bulky. by the way, did mr. youmans, of the united states, apply to you to write a popular sketch of natural selection? i told him you would do it immeasurably better than anyone in the world. my head keeps very rocky and wretched, but i am better,--ever yours most truly, c. darwin. * * * * * _holly house, barking, e. march , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your new edition of the "origin," which i have been too busy to acknowledge before. i think your answer to mivart on the initial stages of modification ample and complete, and the comparison of whale and duck most beautiful. i always saw the fallacy of these objections, of course. the eye and ear objection you have not so satisfactorily answered, and to me the difficulty exists of how _three times over_ an organ of sight was developed with the apparatus even approximately identical. why should not, in one case out of the three, the heat rays or the chemical rays have been utilised for the same purpose, in which case no translucent media would have been required, and yet vision might have been just as perfect? the fact that the eyes of insects and molluscs are transparent to us shows that the very same limited portion of the rays of the spectrum is utilised for vision by them as by us. the chances seem to me immense against that having occurred through "fortuitous variation," as mivart puts it. i see still further difficulties on this point but cannot go into them now. many thanks for your kind invitation. i will try and call some day, but i am now very busy trying to make my house habitable by lady day, when i _must_ be in it.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. july , ._ my dear wallace,--i have just read with infinite satisfaction your crushing article in _nature_.[ ] i have been the more glad to see it, as i have not seen the book itself: i did not order it, as i felt sure from dr. b.'s former book that he could write nothing of value. but assuredly i did not suppose that anyone would have written such a mass of inaccuracies and rubbish. how rich is everything which he says and quotes from herbert spencer! by the way, i suppose that you read h. spencer's answer to martineau: it struck me as quite wonderfully good, and i felt even more strongly inclined than before to bow in reverence before him. nothing has amused me more in your review than dr. b.'s extraordinary presumption in deciding that such men as lyell, owen, h. spencer, mivart, gaudry, etc. etc., are all wrong. i daresay it would be very delightful to feel such overwhelming confidence in oneself. i have had a poor time of it of late, rarely having an hour of comfort, except when asleep or immersed in work; and then when that is over i feel dead with fatigue. i am now correcting my little book on expression; but it will not be published till november, when of course a copy will be sent to you. i shall now try whether i can occupy myself without writing anything more on so difficult a subject as evolution. i hope you are now comfortably settled in your new house, and have more leisure than you have had for some time. i have looked out in the papers for any notice about the curatorship of the new museum, but have seen nothing. if anything is decided in your favour, i _beg_ you to inform me.--my dear wallace, very truly yours, c. darwin. how grandly the public has taken up hooker's case. * * * * * _down. august , [ ]._ my dear wallace,--i hate controversy, chiefly perhaps because i do it badly; but as dr. bree accuses you of "blundering," i have thought myself bound to send the enclosed letter[ ] to _nature_, that is, if you in the least desire it. in this case please post it. if you do not _at all_ wish it, i should rather prefer not sending it, and in this case please tear it up. and i beg you to do the same, if you intend answering dr. bree yourself, as you will do it incomparably better than i should. also please tear it up if you don't like the letter.--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. august , ._ dear darwin,--i have sent your letter to _nature_, as i think it will settle that question far better than anything i can say. many thanks for it. i have not seen dr. bree's letter yet, as i get _nature_ here very irregularly, but as i was very careful to mention none but _real errors_ in dr. bree's book, i do not imagine there will be any necessity for my taking any notice of it. it was really entertaining to have such a book to review, the errors and misconceptions were so inexplicable and the self-sufficiency of the man so amazing. yet there is some excellent writing in the book, and to a half-informed person it has all the appearance of being a most valuable and authoritative work. i am now reviewing a much more important book and one that, if i mistake not, will really compel you sooner or later to modify some of your views, though it will not at all affect the main doctrine of natural selection as applied to the higher animals. i allude, of course, to bastian's "beginnings of life," which you have no doubt got. it is hard reading, but intensely interesting. i am a thorough convert to his main results, and it seems to me that nothing more important has appeared since your "origin." it is a pity he is so awfully voluminous and discursive. when you have thoroughly digested it i shall be glad to know what you are disposed to think. my first notice of it will i think appear in _nature_ next week, but i have been hurried for it, and it is not so well written an article as i could wish. i sincerely hope your health is improving.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i fear lubbock's motion is being pushed off to the end of the session, and hooker's case will not be fairly considered. i hope the matter will _not_ be allowed to drop.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. august , ._ my dear wallace,--i have at last finished the gigantic job of reading dr. bastian's book, and have been deeply interested in it. you wished to hear my impression, but it is not worth sending. he seems to me an extremely able man, as indeed i thought when i read his first essay. his general argument in favour of archebiosis[ ] is wonderfully strong; though i cannot think much of some few of his arguments. the result is that i am bewildered and astonished by his statements, but am not convinced; though on the whole it seems to me probable that archebiosis is true. i am not convinced partly i think owing to the deductive cast of much of his reasoning; and i know not why, but i never feel convinced by deduction, even in the case of h. spencer's writings. if dr. b.'s book had been turned upside down, and he had begun with the various cases of heterogenesis, and then gone on to organic and afterwards to saline solutions, and had then given his general arguments, i should have been, i believe, much more influenced. i suspect, however, that my chief difficulty is the effect of old convictions being stereotyped on my brain. i must have more evidence that germs or the minutest fragments of the lowest forms are always killed by ° of fahr. perhaps the mere reiteration of the statements given by dr. b. by other men whose judgment i respect and who have worked long on the lower organisms would suffice to convince me. here is a fine confession of intellectual weakness; but what an inexplicable frame of mind is that of belief. as for rotifers and tardigrades being spontaneously generated, my mind can no more digest such statements, whether true or false, than my stomach can digest a lump of lead. dr. b. is always comparing archebiosis as well as growth to crystallisation; but on this view a rotifer or tardigrade is adapted to its humble conditions of life by a happy accident; and this i cannot believe. that observations of the above nature may easily be altogether wrong is well shown by dr. b. having declared to huxley that he had watched the entire development of a leaf of sphagnum. he must have worked with very impure materials in some cases, as plenty of organisms appeared in a saline solution not containing an atom of nitrogen. i wholly disagree with dr. b. about many points in his latter chapters. thus the frequency of generalised forms in the older strata seems to me clearly to indicate the common descent with divergence of more recent forms. notwithstanding all his sneers, i do not strike my colours as yet about pangenesis. i should like to live to see archebiosis proved true, for it would be a discovery of transcendent importance; or if false i should like to see it disproved, and the facts otherwise explained; but i shall not live to see all this. if ever proved, dr. b. will have taken a prominent part in the work. how grand is the onward rush of science; it is enough to console us for the many errors which we have committed and for our efforts being overlaid and forgotten in the mass of new facts and new views which are daily turning up. this is all i have to say about dr. b.'s book, and it certainly has not been worth saying. nevertheless, reward me whenever you can by giving me any news about your appointment to the bethnal green museum.--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. august , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your long and interesting letter about bastian's book, though i almost regret that my asking you for your opinion should have led you to give yourself so much trouble. i quite understand your frame of mind, and think it quite a natural and proper one. you had hard work to hammer your views into people's heads at first, and if bastian's theory is true he will have still harder work, because the facts he appeals to are themselves so difficult to establish. are not you mistaken about the sphagnum? as i remember it, huxley detected a fragment of sphagnum leaf _in the same solution in which a fungoid growth had been developed_. bastian mistook the sphagnum also for a vegetable growth, and on account of this ignorance of the character of sphagnum, and its presence in the solution, huxley rejected somewhat contemptuously (and i think very illogically) all bastian's observations. again, as to the saline solution without nitrogen, would not the air supply what was required? i quite agree that the book would have gained force by rearrangement in the way you suggest, but perhaps he thought it necessary to begin with a general argument in order to induce people to examine his new collection of facts, i am impressed _most_ by the agreement of so many observers, some of whom struggle to explain away their own facts. what a wonderfully ingenious and suggestive paper that is by galton on "blood relationship." it helps to render intelligible many of the eccentricities of heredity, atavism, etc. sir charles lyell was good enough to write to lord ripon and mr. cole[ ] about me and the bethnal green museum, and the answer he got was that at present no appointment of a director is contemplated. i suppose they see no way of making it a natural history museum, and it will have to be kept going by loan collections of miscellaneous works of art, in which case, of course, the south kensington people will manage it. it is a considerable disappointment to me, as i had almost calculated on getting something there. with best wishes for your good health and happiness, believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i have just been reading howorth's paper in the _journal of the anthropological institute_. how perverse it is. he throughout confounds "fertility" with "increase of population," which seems to me to be the main cause of his errors. his elaborate accumulation of facts in other papers in _nature_, on "subsidence and elevation of land," i believe to be equally full of error, and utterly untrustworthy as a whole.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. september , ._ my dear wallace,--i write a line to say that i understood--but i may of course have been mistaken--from huxley that bastian distinctly stated that he had watched the development of the scale of sphagnum: i was astonished, as i knew the appearance of sphagnum under a high power, and asked a second time; but i repeat that i may have been mistaken. busk told me that sharpey had noticed the appearance of numerous infusoria in one of the solutions not containing any nitrogen; and i do not suppose that any physiologist would admit the possibility of infusoria absorbing nitrogen gas. possibly i ought not to have mentioned statements made in private conversation, so please do not repeat them. i quite agree about the extreme importance of such men as cohn [illegible] and carter having observed apparent cases of heterogenesis. at present i should prefer any mad hypothesis, such as that every disintegrated molecule of the lowest forms can reproduce the parent-form, and that the molecules are universally distributed, and that they do not lose their vital power until heated to such a temperature that they decompose like dead organic particles. i am extremely grieved to hear about the museum: it is a great misfortune.--yours most sincerely, c. darwin. i have taken up old botanical work and have given up all theories. i quite agree about howorth's paper: he wrote to me and i told him that we differed so widely it was of no use our discussing any point. as for galton's paper, i have never yet been able to fully digest it: as far as i have, it has not cleared my ideas, and has only aided in bringing more prominently forward the large proportion of the latent characters. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. october , ._ my dear wallace,--i have thought that you would perhaps like to see enclosed specimen and extract from letter (translated from the german by my son) from dr. w. marshall, zoological assistant to schlegel at leyden. neither the specimen nor extract need be returned; and you need not acknowledge the receipt. the resemblance is not so close, now that the fragments are gummed on card, as i at first thought. your review of houzeau was very good: i skimmed through the whole gigantic book, but you managed to pick out the plums much better than i did for myself. you are a born critic. what an _admirable_ number that was of _nature_. i am writing this at sevenoaks, where we have taken a house for three weeks and have one more week to stay. we came here that i may get a little rest, of which i stood in much need.--ever yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. with respect to what you say about certain instincts of ants having been acquired by experience or sense, have you kept in mind that the neuters have no progeny? i wish i knew whether the fertile females, or queens, do the same work (viz. placing the eggs in warm places, etc.) as the neuters do afterwards; if so the case would be comparatively simple; but i believe this is not the case, and i am driven to selection of varying pre-existing instincts. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. november , ._ dear darwin,--i should have written earlier to thank you for your book,[ ] but was hoping to be able to read more of it before doing so. i have not, however, found time to get beyond the first three chapters, but that is quite sufficient to show me how exceedingly interesting you have made the subject, and how completely and admirably you have worked it out. i expect it will be one of the most popular of your works. i have just been asked to write a review of it for the _quarterly journal of science_, for which purpose i shall be in duty bound to seek out some deficiencies, however minute, so as to give my notice some flavour of criticism. the cuts and photos are admirable, and my little boy and girl seized it at once to look at the naughty babies. with best wishes, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i will take this opportunity of asking you if you know of any book that will give me a complete catalogue of vertebrate fossils with some indication of their affinities.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. january , ._ my dear wallace,--i have read your review with much interest, and i thank you sincerely for the very kind spirit in which it is written. i cannot say that i am convinced by your criticisms.[ ] if you have ever actually observed a kitten sucking and pounding with extended toes its mother, and then seen the same kitten when a _little older_ doing the same thing on a soft shawl, and ultimately an old cat (as i have seen), and do not admit that it is identically the same action, i am astonished. with respect to the decapitated frog,[ ] i have always heard of pflüger as a most trustworthy observer. if, indeed, anyone knows a frog's habits so well as to say that it never rubs off a bit of leaf or other object, which may stick to its thigh, in the same manner as it did the acid, your objection would be valid. some of flourens' experiments, in which he removed the cerebral hemisphere from a pigeon, indicate that acts _apparently_ performed consciously can be done without consciousness--i presume through the force of habit; in which case it would appear that intellectual power is not brought into play. several persons have made such suggestions and objections as yours about the hands being held up in astonishment:[ ] if there was any straining of the muscles, as with protruded arms under fright, i would agree: as it is i must keep to my old opinion, and i daresay you will say that i am an obstinate old blockhead.--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. the book has sold wonderfully; , copies have now been printed. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. wednesday morning, [november, ]._ dear darwin,--yours just received. pray act exactly as if nothing had been said to me on the subject. i do not particularly _wish_ for the work,[ ] as, besides being as you say, tedious work, it involves a considerable amount of responsibility. still, i am prepared to do any literary work of the kind, as i told bates some time ago, and that is the reason he wrote to me about it. i certainly think, however, that it would be in many ways more satisfactory to you if your son did it, and i therefore hope he may undertake it. should he, however, for any reasons, be unable, i am at your service as a _dernier ressort_. in case my meaning is not quite clear, i will _not do it_ unless your son has the offer and declines it.--believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred b. wallace. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. november , ._ dear darwin,--i quite understand what you require, and would undertake to do it to the best of my ability. of course in such work i should not think of offering criticisms of matter. i do not think i could form any idea of how long it would take by seeing the mss., as it would all depend upon the amount of revision and working-in required. i have helped sir c. lyell with his last three or four editions in a somewhat similar though different way, and for him i have kept an account simply of the hours i was employed in any way for him, and he paid me /- an hour; but (of course this is confidential) i do not think this quite enough for the class of work. i should propose for your work /- an hour as a fair remuneration, and i would put down each day the hours i worked at it. no doubt you will get it done for very much less by any literary man accustomed to regular literary work and nothing else, and perhaps better done, so do not in the least scruple in saying you decide on employing the gentleman you had in view if you prefer it. if you send it to me could you let me have _all_ your mss. copied out, as it adds considerably to the time required if there is any difficulty in deciphering the writing, which in yours (as you are no doubt aware) there often is. my hasty note to bates was not intended to be shown you or anyone. i thought he had heard of it from murray, and that the arrangement was to be made by murray.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i have been delighted with h. spencer's "study of sociology." some of the passages in the latter part are _grand_. you have perhaps seen that i am dipping into politics myself occasionally.--a.r.w. * * * * * _down, beckenkam, kent. november , ._ dear wallace,--i thank you for your extremely kind letter, and i am sorry that i troubled you with that of yesterday. my wife thinks that my son george would be so much pleased at undertaking the work for me, that i will write to him, and so probably shall have no occasion to trouble you. if on still further reflection, and after looking over my notes, i think that my son could not do the work, i will write again and _gratefully_ accept your proposal. but if you do not hear, you will understand that i can manage the affair myself. i never in my lifetime regretted an interruption so much as this new edition of the "descent." i am deeply immersed in some work on physiological points with plants. i fully agree with what you say about h. spencer's "sociology"; i do not believe there is a man in europe at all his equal in talents. i did not know that you had been writing on politics, except so far as your letter on the coal question, which interested me much and struck me as a capital letter. i must again thank you for your letter, and remain, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. i hope to heaven that politics will not replace natural science. i know too well how atrociously bad my handwriting is. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. december , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your kindness in sending me a copy of your new edition of the "descent." i see you have made a whole host of additions and corrections which i shall have great pleasure in reading over as soon as i have got rid of my horrid book on geographical distribution, which is almost driving me mad with the amount of drudgery required and the often unsatisfactory nature of the result. however, i must finish with it soon, or all the part first done will have to be done over again, every new book, either as a monograph, or a classification, putting everything wrong (for me). hoping you are in good health and able to go on with your favourite work, i remain yours very sincerely, alfred b. wallace. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. july , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your kindness in sending me a copy of your new book.[ ] being very busy i have only had time to dip into it yet. the account of utricularia is most marvellous, and quite new to me. i'm rather surprised that you do not make any remarks on the origin of these extraordinary contrivances for capturing insects. did you think they were too obvious? i daresay there is no difficulty, but i feel sure they will be seized on as inexplicable by natural selection, and your silence on the point will be held to show that you consider them so! the contrivance in utricularia and dionæa, and in fact in drosera too, seems fully as great and complex as in orchids, but there is not the same motive force. fertilisation and cross-fertilisation are important ends enough to lead to _any_ modification, but can we suppose mere nourishment to be so important, seeing that it is so easily and almost universally obtained by extrusion of roots and leaves? here are plants which lose their roots and leaves to acquire the same results by infinitely complex modes! what a wonderful and long-continued series of variations must have led up to the perfect "trap" in utricularia, while at any stage of the process the same end might have been gained by a little more development of roots and leaves, as in , plants out of , ! is this an imaginary difficulty, or do you mean to deal with it in future editions of the "origin"?--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. november , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your beautiful little volume on "climbing plants," which forms a most interesting companion to your "orchids" and "insectivorous plants." i am sorry to see that you have not this time given us the luxury of cut edges. i am in the midst of printing and proof-sheets, which are wearisome in the extreme from the mass of names and statistics i have been obliged to introduce, and which will, i fear, make my book insufferably dull to all but zoological specialists. my trust is in my pictures and maps to catch the public. hoping yourself and all your family are quite well, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. june , ._ my dear wallace,--i must have the pleasure of expressing to you my unbounded admiration of your book,[ ] though i have read only to page --my object having been to do as little as possible while resting. i feel sure that you have laid a broad and safe foundation for all future work on distribution. how interesting it will be to see hereafter plants treated in strict relation to your views; and then all insects, pulmonate molluscs, and fresh-water fishes, in greater detail than i suppose you have given to these lower animals. the point which has interested me most, but i do not say the most valuable point, is your protest against sinking imaginary continents in a quite reckless manner, as was started by forbes, followed, alas, by hooker, and caricatured by wollaston and murray. by the way, the main impression which the latter author has left on my mind is his utter want of all scientific judgment. i have lifted up my voice against the above view with no avail, but i have no doubt that you will succeed, owing to your new arguments and the coloured chart. of a special value, as it seems to me, is the conclusion that we must determine the areas chiefly by the nature of the mammals. when i worked many years ago on this subject, i doubted much whether the now-called palearctic and nearctic regions ought to be separated; and i determined if i made another region that it should be madagascar. i have therefore been able to appreciate the value of your evidence on these points. what progress palæontology has made during the last years! but if it advances at the same rate in the future, our views on the migration and birthplace of the various groups will, i fear, be greatly altered. i cannot feel quite easy about the glacial period and the extinction of large mammals, but i much hope that you are right. i think you will have to modify your belief about the difficulty of dispersal of land molluscs; i was interrupted when beginning to experimentise on the just-hatched young adhering to the feet of ground-roosting birds. i differ on one other point, viz. in the belief that there must have existed a tertiary antarctic continent, from which various forms radiated to the southern extremities of our present continents. but i could go on scribbling for ever. you have written, as i believe, a grand and memorable work, which will last for years as the foundation for all future treatises on geographical distribution,--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--you have paid me the highest conceivable compliment by what you say of your work in relation to my chapters on distribution in the "origin," and i heartily thank you for it. * * * * * _the dell, grays, essex. june , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your very kind letter. so few people will read my book at all regularly, that a criticism from one who does so will be very welcome. if, as i suppose, it is only to p. of vol. i. that you have read, you cannot yet quite see my conclusions on the points you refer to (land molluscs and antarctic continent). my own conclusions fluctuated during the progress of the book, and i have, i know, occasionally used expressions (the relics of earlier ideas) which are not quite consistent with what i say further on. i am positively against any southern continent as _uniting_ south america with australia or new zealand, as you will see at vol. i., pp. - and - . my general conclusions as to distribution of land mollusca[ ] are at vol. ii., pp. - . when you have read these passages and looked at the general facts which lead to them, i shall be glad to hear if you still differ from me. though, of course, _present results_ as to origin and migrations of genera of mammals will have to be modified owing to new discoveries, i cannot help thinking that much will remain unaffected, because in all geographical and geological discoveries the great outlines are soon reached; the details alone remain to be modified. i also think much of the geological evidence is now so accordant with, and explanatory of, geographical distribution that it is prima facie correct in outline. nevertheless, such vast masses of new facts will come out in the next few years that i quite dread the labour of incorporating them in a new edition. now for a little personal matter. for two years i have made up my mind to leave this place--mainly for two reasons: drought and wind prevent the satisfactory growth of all delicate plants; and i cannot stand being unable to attend evening meetings and being obliged to refuse every invitation in london. but i was obliged to stay till i had got it into decent order to attract a customer. at last it is so, and i am offering it for sale, and as soon as it is disposed of i intend to try the neighbourhood of dorking, whence there are late trains from cannon street and charing cross. i see your post-mark was dorking, so i suppose you have been staying there. is it not a lovely country? i hope your health is improved, and when, quite at your leisure, you have waded through my book, i trust you will again let me have a few lines of friendly criticism and advice.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham. june , ._ my dear wallace,--i have now finished the whole of vol. i., with the same interest and admiration as before; and i am convinced that my judgment was right and that it is a memorable book, the basis of all future work on the subject. i have nothing particular to say, but perhaps you would like to hear my impressions on two or three points. nothing has struck me more than the admirable and convincing manner in which you treat java. to allude to a very trifling point, it is capital about the unadorned head of the argus pheasant.[ ] how plain a thing is, when it is once pointed out! what a wonderful case is that of celebes! i am glad that you have slightly modified your views with respect to africa,[ ] and this leads me to say that i cannot swallow the so-called continent of lemuria, i.e. the direct connection of africa and ceylon![ ] the facts do not seem to me many and strong enough to justify so immense a change of level. moreover, mauritius and the other islands appear to me oceanic in character. but do not suppose that i place my judgment on this subject on a level with yours. a wonderfully good paper was published about a year ago on india in the _geological journal_--i _think_ by blandford.[ ] ramsay agreed with me that it was one of the best published for a long time. the author shows that india has been a continent with enormous fresh-water lakes from the permian period to the present day. if i remember right he believes in a former connection with south africa. i am sure that i read, some to years ago, in a french journal, an account of teeth of mastodon found in timor; but the statement may have been an error. with respect to what you say about the colonising of new zealand, i somewhere have an account of a frog frozen in the ice of a swiss glacier, and which revived when thawed. i may add that there is an indian toad which can resist salt water and haunts the seaside. nothing ever astonished me more than the case of the galaxias; but it does not seem known whether it may not be a migratory fish like the salmon. it seems to me that you complicate rather too much the successive colonisations with new zealand. i should prefer believing that the galaxias was a species, like the emys of the sewalik hills, which has long retained the same form. your remarks on the insects and flowers of new zealand have greatly interested me; but aromatic leaves i have always looked at as a protection against their being eaten by insects or other animals; and as insects are there rare, such protection would not be much needed. i have written more than i intended, and i must again say how profoundly your book has interested me. now let me turn to a very different subject. i have only just heard of and procured your two articles in the _academy_. i thank you most cordially for your generous defence of me against mr. mivart. in the "origin" i did not discuss the derivation of any one species; but that i might not be accused of concealing my opinion i went out of my way and inserted a sentence which seemed to me (and still so seems) to declare plainly my belief. this was quoted in my "descent of man." therefore it is very unjust, not to say dishonest, of mr. mivart to accuse me of base fraudulent concealment; i care little about myself; but mr. mivart, in an article in the _quarterly review_ (which i _know_ was written by him), accused my son george of encouraging profligacy, and this without the least foundation.[ ] i can assert this positively, as i laid george's article and the _quarterly review_ before hooker, huxley and others, and all agreed that the accusation was a deliberate falsification. huxley wrote to him on the subject and has almost or quite cut him in consequence; and so would hooker, but he was advised not to do so as president of the royal society. well, he has gained his object in giving me pain, and, good god, to think of the flattering, almost fawning speeches which he has made to me! i wrote, of course, to him to say that i would never speak to him again. i ought, however, to be contented, as he is the one man who has ever, as far as i know, treated me basely. forgive me for writing at such length, and believe me yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i am very sorry that you have given up sexual selection. i am not at all shaken, and stick to my colours like a true briton. when i think about the unadorned head of the argus pheasant, i might exclaim, _et tu, brute!_ * * * * * _down, beckenham. june , ._ my dear wallace,--i have been able to read rather more quickly of late and have finished your book. i have not much to say. your careful account of the temperate parts of south america interested me much, and all the more from knowing something of the country. i like also much the general remarks towards the end of the volume on the land molluscs. now for a few criticisms. p. :[ ] i am surprised at your saying that "during the whole tertiary period north america was zoologically far more strongly contrasted with south america than it is now." but we know hardly anything of the latter except during the pliocene period, and then the mastodon, horse, several great dentata, etc. etc., were common to the north and south. if you are right i erred greatly in my journal, where i insisted on the former close connection between the two. p. , and elsewhere: i agree thoroughly with the general principle that a great area with many competing forms is necessary for much and high development; but do you not extend this principle too far--i should say much too far, considering how often several species of the same genus have been developed on very small islands? p. : you say that the sittidæ extend to madagascar, but there is no number in the tabular heading.[ ] p. : rhinochetus is entered in the tabular heading under no. of the _neotropical_ sub-regions.[ ] reviewers think it necessary to find some fault, and if i were to review you, the sole point which i should blame is your not giving very numerous references. these would save whoever follows you great labour. occasionally i wished myself to know the authority for certain statements, and whether you or somebody else had originated certain subordinate views. take the case of a man who had collected largely on some island, for instance st. helena, and who wished to work out the geographical relations of his collection; he would, i think, feel very blank at not finding in your work precise references to all that had been written on st. helena. i hope you will not think me a confoundedly disagreeable fellow. i may mention a capital essay which i received a few mouths ago from axel blytt[ ] on the distribution of the plants of scandinavia; showing the high probability of there having been secular periods alternately wet and dry; and of the important part which they have played in distribution. i wrote to forel, who is always at work on ants, and told him of your views about the dispersal of the blind coleoptera, and asked him to observe. i spoke to hooker about your book, and feel sure that he would like nothing better than to consider the distribution of plants in relation to your views; but he seemed to doubt whether he should ever have time. and now i have done my jottings, and once again congratulate you on having brought out so grand a work. i have been a little disappointed at the review in _nature_[ ]--my dear wallace, yours sincerely, charles darwin. * * * * * _rose hill, dorking. july , ._ my dear darwin,--i should have replied sooner to your last kind and interesting letters, but they reached me in the midst of my packing previous to removal here, and i have only just now got my books and papers in a get-at-able state. and first, many thanks for your close observation in detecting the two absurd mistakes in the tabular headings. as to the former greater distinction of the north and south american faunas, i think i am right. the edentata, being proved (as i hold) to have been mere temporary migrants into north america in the post-pliocene epoch, form no part of its tertiary fauna. yet in south america they were so enormously developed in the pliocene epoch that we know, if there is any such thing as evolution, etc., that strange ancestral forms must have preceded them in miocene times. mastodon, on the other hand, represented by one or two species only, appears to have been a late immigrant into south america from the north. the immense development of ungulates (in varied families, genera, and species) in north america during the whole tertiary epoch is, however, the great feature, which assimilates it to europe and contrasts it with south america. true camels, hosts of hog-like animals, true rhinoceroses, and hosts of ancestral horses, all bring north america much nearer to the old world than it is now. even the horse, represented in all south america by equus only, was probably a temporary immigrant from the north. as to extending too far the principle (yours) of the necessity of comparatively large areas for the development of varied faunas, i may have done so, but i think not. there is, i think, every probability that most islands, etc., where a varied fauna now exists have been once more extensive, e.g. new zealand, madagascar. where there is no such evidence (e.g. galapagos), the fauna is _very restricted_. lastly as to want of references; i confess the justice of your criticism. but i am dreadfully unsystematic. it is my first large work involving much of the labour of others. i began with the intention of writing a comparatively short sketch, enlarged it, and added to it, bit by bit; remodelled the tables, the headings, and almost everything else, more than once, and got my materials into such confusion that it is a wonder it has not turned out far more crooked and confused than it is. i, no doubt, ought to have given references; but in many cases i found the information so small and scattered, and so much had to be combined and condensed from conflicting authorities, that i hardly knew how to refer to them or where to leave off. had i referred to all authors consulted for every fact, i should have greatly increased the bulk of the book, while a large portion of the references would be valueless in a few years owing to later and better authorities. my experience of referring to references has generally been most unsatisfactory. one finds, nine times out of ten, the fact is stated, and nothing more; or a reference to some third work not at hand! i wish i could get into the habit of giving chapter and verse for every fact and extract, but i am too lazy and generally in a hurry, having to consult books against time when in london for a day. however, i will try and do something to mend this matter should i have to prepare another edition. i return you forel's letter. it does not advance the question much, neither do i think it likely that even the complete observation he thinks necessary would be of much use; because it may well be that the ova or larvæ or imagos of the beetles are not carried systematically by the ants, but only occasionally owing to some exceptional circumstances. this might produce a great effect in distribution, yet be so rare as never to come under observation. several of your remarks in previous letters i shall carefully consider. i know that, compared with the extent of the subject, my book is in many parts crude and ill-considered; but i thought, and still think, it better to make _some generalisations_ wherever possible, as i am not at all afraid of having to alter my views in many points of detail. i was so overwhelmed with zoological details that i never went through the geological society's _journal_ as i ought to have done, and as i mean to do before writing more on the subject. with best wishes, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _rose hill, dorking. december , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your new book on "crossing plants," which i have read with much interest. i hardly expected, however, that there would have been so many doubtful and exceptional cases. i fancy that the results would have come out better had you always taken weights instead of heights; and that would have obviated the objection that will, i daresay, be made, that _height_ proves nothing, because a tall plant may be weaker, less bulky and less vigorous than a shorter one. of course no one who knows you or who takes a _general_ view of your results will say this, but i daresay it will be said. i am afraid this book will not do much or anything to get rid of the one great objection, that the physiological characteristic of species, the infertility of hybrids, has not yet been produced. have you ever tried experiments with plants (if any can be found) which for several centuries have been grown under very different conditions, as for instance potatoes on the high andes and in ireland? if any approach to sterility occurred in mongrels between these it would be a grand step. the most curious point you have brought out seems to me the slight superiority of self-fertilisation over fertilisation with another flower of the same plant, and the most important result, that difference of constitution is the essence of the benefit of cross-fertilisation. all you now want is to find the neutral point where the benefit is at its maximum, any greater difference being prejudicial. hoping you may yet demonstrate this, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _rose hill, dorking. january , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your valuable new edition of the "orchids," which i see contains a great deal of new matter of the greatest interest. i am amazed at your continuous work, but i suppose, after all these years of it, it is impossible for you to remain idle. i, on the contrary, am very idle, and feel inclined to do nothing but stroll about this beautiful country, and read all kinds of miscellaneous literature. i have asked my friend mr. mott to send you the last of his remarkable papers--on haeckel. but the part i hope you will read with as much interest as i have done is that on the deposits of carbon, and the part it has played and must be playing in geological changes. he seems to have got the idea from some german book, but it seems to me very important, and i wonder it never occurred to sir charges lyell. if the calculations as to the quantity of undecomposed carbon deposited are anything approaching to correctness, the results must be important. hoping you are in pretty good health, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _rose hill, dorking. july , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your admirable volume on "the forms of flowers." it would be impertinence of me to say anything in praise of it, except that i have read the chapters on "illegitimate offspring of heterostyled plants" and on "cleistogamic flowers" with great interest. i am almost afraid to tell you that in going over the subject of the colours of animals, etc., for a small volume of essays, etc., i am preparing, i have come to conclusions directly opposed to _voluntary sexual selection_, and believe that i can explain (in a general way) _all_ the phenomena of sexual ornaments and colours by laws of development aided by simple natural selection. i hope you admire as i do mr. belt's remarkable series of papers in support of his terrific "oceanic glacier river-damming" hypothesis. in awful grandeur it beats everything "glacial" yet out, and it certainly explains a wonderful lot of hard facts. the last one, on the "glacial period in the southern hemisphere," in the _quarterly journal of science_, is particularly fine, and i see he has just read a paper at the geological society. it seems to me supported by quite as much evidence as ramsay's "lakes"; but ramsay, i understand, will have none of it--as yet.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. august , ._ my dear wallace,--i am very much obliged to you for sending your article, which is very interesting and appears to me as clearly written as it can be. you will not be surprised that i differ altogether from you about sexual colours. that the tail of the peacock and his elaborate display of it should be due merely to the vigour, activity, and vitality of the male is to me as utterly incredible as my views are to you. mantegazza published a few years ago in italy a somewhat similar view. i cannot help doubting about recognition through colour; our horses, dogs, fowls, and pigeons seem to know their own species, however differently the individuals may be coloured. i wonder whether you attribute the odoriferous and sound-producing organs, when confined to the males, to their greater vigour, etc.? i could say a good deal in opposition to you, but my arguments would have no weight in your eyes, and i do not intend to write for the public anything on this or any other difficult subject. by the way, i doubt whether the term voluntary in relation to sexual selection ought to be employed: when a man is fascinated by a pretty girl it can hardly be called voluntary, and i suppose that female animals are charmed or excited in nearly the same manner by the gaudy males. three essays have been published lately in germany which would interest you: one by weismann, who shows that the coloured stripes on the caterpillars of sphinx are beautifully protective: and birds were frightened away from their feeding-place by a caterpillar with large eye-like spots on the broad anterior segments of the body. fritz müller has well discussed the first steps of mimicry with butterflies, and comes to nearly or quite the same conclusion as you, but supports it by additional arguments. fritz müller also has lately shown that the males alone of certain butterflies have odoriferous glands on their wings (distinct from those which secrete matter disgusting to birds), and where these glands are placed the scales assume a different shape, making little tufts. farewell: i hope that you find dorking a pleasant place? i was staying lately at abinger hall, and wished to come over to see you, but driving tires me so much that my courage failed.--yours very sincerely, chas. darwin. * * * * * _madeira villa, madeira road, ventnor, isle of wight. september , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your letter. of course i did not expect my paper to have any effect on your opinions. you have looked at all the facts so long from your special point of view that it would require conclusive arguments to influence you, and these, from the complex nature of the question, are probably not to be had. we must, i think, leave the case in the hands of others, and i am in hopes that my paper may call sufficient attention to the subject to induce some of the great school of darwinians to take the question up and work it out thoroughly. you have brought such a mass of facts to support your view, and have argued it so fully, that i hardly think it necessary for you to do more. truth will prevail, as you as well as i wish it to do. i will only make one or two remarks. the word "voluntary" was inserted in _my proofs only_, in order to distinguish clearly between the two radically distinct kinds of "sexual selection." perhaps "conscious" would be a better word, to which i think you will not object, and i will alter it when i republish. i lay no stress on the word "voluntary." sound- and scent-producing organs in males are surely due to "natural" or "automatic" as opposed to "conscious" selection. if there were gradations in the sounds produced, from mere noises, up to elaborate music--the case would be analogous to that of "colours" and "ornament." being, however, comparatively simple, natural selection, owing to their use as a guide, seems sufficient. the louder sound, heard at a greater distance, would attract or be heard by more females, or it may attract other males and lead to combats _for_ the females, but this would not imply _choice_ in the sense of rejecting a male whose stridulation was a trifle less loud than another's, which is the essence of the theory as applied by you to colour and ornament. but greater general vigour would almost certainly lead to greater volume or persistence of sound, and so the same view will apply to both cases on my theory. thanks for the references you give me. my ignorance of german prevents me supporting my views by the mass of observations continually being made abroad, so i can only advance my own ideas for what they are worth. i like dorking much, but can find no house to suit me, so fear i shall have to move again. with best wishes, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. september , [ ]._ my dear wallace,--"conscious" seems to me much better than "voluntary." conscious action, i presume, comes into play when two males fight for a female; but i do not know whether you admit that, for instance, the spur of the cock is due to sexual selection. i am quite willing to admit that the sounds and vocal organs of some males are used only for challenging, but i doubt whether this applies to the musical notes of hylobates or to the howling (i judge chiefly from rengger) of the american monkeys. no account that i have seen of the stridulation of male insects shows that it is a challenge. all those who have attended to birds consider their song as a charm to the females and not as a challenge. as the males in most cases search for the females i do not see how their odoriferous organs will aid them in finding the females. but it is foolish in me to go on writing, for i believe i have said most of this in my book: anyhow, i well remember thinking over it. the "belling" of male stags, if i remember rightly, is a challenge, and so i daresay is the roaring of the lion during the breeding season. i will just add in reference to your former letter that i fully admit that with birds the fighting of the males co-operates with their charms; and i remember quoting bartlett that gaudy colouring in the males is almost invariably concomitant with pugnacity. but, thank heaven, what little more i can do in science will be confined to observation on simple points. however much i may have blundered, i have done my best, and that is my constant comfort.--most truly yours, c. darwin. * * * * * _waldron edge, duppas hill, croydon. september , ._ dear darwin,--an appointment is soon to be made of someone to have the superintendence of epping forest under the new act, and as it is a post which of all others i should like i am trying very hard to get up interest enough to secure it. one of the means is the enclosed memorial, which has been already signed by sir j. hooker and sir j. lubbock, and to which i feel sure you will add your name, which i expect has weight "even in the city." in want of anything better to do i have been grinding away at a book on the geography of australia for stanford for the last six months. hoping you are in good health, and with my best compliments to mrs. darwin and the rest of your family, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. september , ._ my dear wallace,--i return the paper signed, and most heartily wish that you may be successful, not only for your own sake, but for that of natural science, as you would then have more time for new researches. i keep moderately well, but always feel half-dead, yet manage to work away on vegetable physiology, as i think that i should die outright if i had nothing to do.--believe me yours very sincerely, ch. darwin * * * * * _walron edge, duppas hill, croydon. september , ._ dear darwin,--many thanks for your signature and good wishes. i have some hopes of success, but am rather doubtful of the committee of the corporation who will have the management, for they have just decided after a great struggle in the court of common council that it is to be a rotatory committee, every member of the council (of whom there are ) coming on it in succession if they please. they evidently look upon it as a committee which will have great opportunities of excursions, picnics, and dinners, at the expense of the corporation, while the improvement of the forest will be quite a secondary matter. i am very glad to hear you are tolerably well. it is all i can say of myself.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. january , ._ my dear wallace,--as this note requires no sort of answer, you must allow me to express my lively admiration of your paper in the _nineteenth century_.[ ] you certainly are a master in the difficult art of clear exposition. it is impossible to urge too often that the selection from a single varying individual or of a single varying organ will not suffice. you have worked in capitally allen's admirable researches. as usual, you delight to honour me more than i deserve. when i have written about the extreme slowness of natural selection (in which i hope i may be wrong), i have chiefly had in my mind the effects of intercrossing. i subscribe to almost everything you say excepting the last short sentence. and now let me add how grieved i was to hear that the city of london did not elect you for the epping office, but i suppose it was too much to hope that such a body of men should make a good selection. i wish you could obtain some quiet post and thus have leisure for moderate scientific work. i have nothing to tell you about myself; i see few persons, for conversation fatigues me much; but i daily do some work in experiments on plants, and hope thus to continue to the end of my days. with all good wishes, believe me yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--have you seen mr. farrer's article in the last _fortnightly_? it reminded me of an article on bequests by you some years ago which interested and almost converted me. * * * * * _waldron edge, duppas hill, croydon. january , ._ my dear darwin,--it is a great pleasure to receive a letter from you sometimes--especially when we do not differ very much. i am, of course, much pleased and gratified that you like my article. i wrote it chiefly because i thought there was something a little fresh still to say on the subject, and also because i wished to define precisely my present position, which people continually misunderstand. the main part of the article forms part of a chapter of a book i have now almost finished on my favourite subject of "geographical distribution." it will form a sort of supplement to my former work, and will, i trust, be more readable and popular. i go pretty fully into the laws of variation and dispersal; the exact character of specific and generic areas, and their causes; the growth, dispersal and extinction of species and groups, illustrated by maps, etc.; changes of geography and of climate as affecting dispersal, with a full discussion of the glacial theory, adopting croll's views (part of this has been published as a separate article in the _quarterly review_ of last july, and has been highly approved by croll and geikie); a discussion of the theory of permanent continents and oceans, which i see you were the first to adopt, but which geologists, i am sorry to say, quite ignore. all this is preliminary. then follows a series of chapters on the different kinds of islands, continental and oceanic, with a pretty full discussion of the characters, affinities, and origin of their fauna and flora in typical cases. among these i am myself quite pleased with my chapters on new zealand, as i believe i have fully explained and accounted for _all_ the main peculiarities of the new zealand and australian floras. i call the book "island life," etc. etc., and i think it will be interesting. thanks for your regrets and kind wishes anent epping. it was a disappointment, as i had good friends on the committee and therefore had too much hope. i may just mention that i am thinking of making some application through friends for some post in the new josiah mason college of science at birmingham, as registrar or curator and librarian, etc. the trustees have advertised for professors to begin next october. should you happen to know any of the trustees, or have any influential friends in birmingham, perhaps you could help me. i think this book will be my last, as i have pretty well said all i have to say in it, and i have never taken to experiment as you have. but i want some easy occupation for my declining years, with not too much confinement or desk-work, which i cannot stand. you see i had some reason for writing to you; but do not you trouble to write again unless you have something to communicate. with best wishes, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. i have not seen the _fortnightly_ yet, but will do so. * * * * * _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. october , ._ my dear darwin,--i hope you will have received a copy of my last book, "island life," as i shall be very glad of your opinion on certain points in it. the first five chapters you need not read, as they contain nothing fresh to you, but are necessary to make the work complete in itself. the next five chapters, however (vii. to x.), i think, will interest you. as i _think_, in chapters viii. and ix. i have found the true explanation of geological climates, and on this i shall be very glad of your candid opinion, as it is the very foundation-stone of the book. the rest will not contain much that is fresh to you, except the three chapters on new zealand. sir joseph hooker thinks my theory of the australian and new zealand floras a decided advance on anything that has been done before. in connection with this, the chapter on the azores should be read. chap. xvi. on the british fauna may also interest you. i mention these points merely that you may not trouble yourself to read the whole book, unless you like. hoping that you are well, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. november , ._ my dear wallace,--i have now read your book,[ ] and it has interested me deeply. it is quite excellent, and seems to me the best book which you have ever published; but this may be merely because i have read it last. as i went on, i made a few notes,[ ] chiefly when i differed strongly from you; but god knows whether they are worth your reading. you will be disappointed with many of them; but they will show that i had the will, though i did not know the way, to do what you wanted. i have said nothing on the infinitely many passages and views which i admired and which were new to me. my notes are badly expressed; but i thought that you would excuse my taking any pains with my style. i wish that my confounded handwriting was better. i had a note the other day from hooker, and i can see that he is _much_ pleased with the dedication. with all good wishes, believe me yours sincerely, ch. darwin. in two or three weeks you will receive a book from me; if you care to know what it is about, read the paragraph in introduction about new terms and then the last chapter, and you will know whole contents of book. * * * * * _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. november , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your kind remarks and notes on my book. several of the latter will be of use to me if i have to prepare a second edition, which i am not so sure of as you seem to be. . in your remark as to the doubtfulness of paucity of fossils being due to coldness of water, i think you overlook that i am speaking _only_ of waters in the latitude of the alps, in miocene and eocene times, when icebergs and glaciers temporarily descended into an otherwise warm sea; my theory being that there was no glacial epoch at that time, but merely a local and temporary descent of the snow-line and glaciers owing to high excentricity and winter in _aphelion_. . i cannot see the difficulty about the cessation of the glacial period. between the miocene and the pleistocene periods geographical changes occurred which rendered a true glacial period possible with high excentricity. when the high excentricity passed away the glacial epoch also passed away in the temperate zone; but it persists in the arctic zone, where during the miocene there were mild climates, and this is due to the persistence of the changed geographical conditions. the present arctic climate is itself a comparatively new and abnormal state of things due to geographical modification. as to "epoch" and "period," i use them as synonyms to avoid repeating the same word. . rate of deposit and geological time: there no doubt i may have gone to an extreme, but my "twenty-eight million years" may be anything under millions, as i state. there is an enormous difference between _mean_ and _maximum_ denudation and deposition. in the case of the great faults the upheaval along a given line would itself facilitate the denudation (whether subaerial or marine) of the upheaved portion at a rate perhaps a hundred times faster than plains and plateaux. so, local subsidence might itself lead to very rapid deposition. suppose a portion of the gulf of mexico near the mouth of the mississippi were to subside for a few thousand years, it might receive the greater part of the sediment from the whole mississippi valley, and thus form strata at a very rapid rate. . you quote the pampas thistles, etc., against my statement of the importance of preoccupation. but i am referring especially to st. helena, and to plants naturally introduced from the adjacent continents. surely, if a certain number of african plants reached the island and became modified into a complete adaptation to its climatic conditions, they would hardly be expelled by other african plants arriving subsequently. they might be so conceivably, but it does not seem probable. the cases of the pampas, new zealand, tahiti, etc., are very different, where highly developed _aggressive_ plants have been artificially introduced. under nature it is these very aggressive species that would first reach any island in their vicinity, and, being adapted to the island and colonising it thoroughly, would then hold their own against other plants from the _same_ country, mostly less aggressive in character. i have not explained this so fully as i should have done in the book. your criticism is therefore useful. my chap. xxiii. is no doubt very speculative, and i cannot wonder at your hesitating at accepting my views. to me, however, your theory of hosts of existing species migrating over the tropical lowlands from the north temperate to the south temperate zone appears more speculative and more improbable. for, where could the rich lowland _equatorial_ flora have existed during a period of general refrigeration sufficient for this? and what became of the wonderfully rich cape flora which, if the temperature of tropical africa had been so recently lowered, would certainly have spread northwards and on the return of the heat could hardly have been driven back into the sharply defined and _very restricted area_ in which it now exists? as to the migration of plants from mountain to mountain not being so probable as to remote islands, i think that is fully counterbalanced by two considerations: (a) the area and abundance of the mountain stations along such a range as the andes are immensely greater than those of the islands in the north atlantic, for example. (b) the temporary occupation of mountain stations by migrating plants (which i think i have shown to be probable) renders _time_ a much more important element in increasing the number and variety of the plants so dispersed than in the case of islands, where the flora soon acquires a fixed and endemic character, and where the number of species is necessarily limited. no doubt, direct evidence of seeds being carried great distances through the air is wanted, but, i am afraid, can hardly be obtained. yet i feel the greatest confidence that they _are_ so carried. take for instance the two peculiar orchids of the azores (habinaria species): what other mode of transit is conceivable? the whole subject is one of great difficulty, but i hope my chapter may call attention to a hitherto neglected factor in the distribution of plants. your references to the mauritius literature are very interesting, and will be useful to me; and again thanking you for your valuable remarks, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. november , ._ my dear darwin,--many thanks for your new book containing your wonderful series of experiments and observations on the movements of plants. i have read the introduction and conclusion, which shows me the importance of the research as indicating the common basis of the infinitely varied habits and mode of growth of plants. the whole subject becomes thus much simplified, though the nature of the basic vitality which leads to such wonderful results remains as mysterious as ever.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. january , ._ my dear darwin,--i have been intending to write to you for some weeks to call your attention to what seems to me a striking confirmation (or at all events a support) of my views of the land migration of plants from mountain to mountain. in _nature_ of dec. th, p. , mr. baker, of kew, describes a number of the alpine plants of madagascar as being _identical species_ with some found on the mountains of abyssinia, the cameroons, and other african mountains. now, if there is one thing more clear than another it is that madagascar has been separated from africa since the miocene (probably the early miocene) epoch. these plants must therefore have reached the island either _since_ then, in which case they certainly must have passed through the air for long distances, or at the time of the union. but the miocene and eocene periods were certainly warm, and these alpine plants could hardly have migrated over tropical forest lands, while it is very improbable that if they had been isolated at so remote a period, exposed to such distinct climatal and organic environments as in madagascar and abyssinia, they would have in both places retained their specific characters unchanged. the presumption is, therefore, that they are comparatively _recent_ immigrants, and if so must have passed across the sea from mountain to mountain, for the richness and speciality of the madagascar forest vegetation render it certain that no recent glacial epoch has seriously affected that island. hoping that you are in good health, and wishing you the compliments of the season, i remain yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. january , ._ my dear wallace,--the case which you give is a very striking one, and i had overlooked it in _nature._[ ] but i remain as great a heretic as ever. any supposition seems to me more probable than that the seeds of plants should have been blown from the mountains of abyssinia or other central mountains of africa to the mountains of madagascar. it seems to me almost infinitely more probable that madagascar extended far to the south during the glacial period, and that the southern hemisphere was, according to croll, then more temperate; and that the whole of africa was then peopled with some temperate forms, which crossed chiefly by agency of birds and sea-currents; and some few by the wind from the shores of africa to madagascar, subsequently ascending to the mountains. how lamentable it is that two men should take such widely different views, with the same facts before them; but this seems to be almost regularly our case, and much do i regret it. i am fairly well, but always feel half dead with fatigue. i heard but an indifferent account of your health some time ago, but trust that you are now somewhat stronger.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. january , ._ my dear wallace,--you know from miss buckley that, with her assistance, i drew up a memorial to mr. gladstone with respect to your services to science. the memorial was corrected by huxley, who has aided me in every possible way. it was signed by twelve good men, and you would have been gratified if you had seen how strongly they expressed themselves on your claims. the duke of argyll, to whom i sent the memorial, wrote a private note to mr. gladstone. the memorial was sent in only on january th, and i have just received a note in mr. gladstone's own handwriting, in which he says: "i lose no time in apprising you that although the fund is moderate and at present poor, i shall recommend mr. wallace for a pension of £ a year." i will keep this note carefully, as, if the present government were to go out, i do not doubt that it would be binding on the next government. i hope that it will give you some satisfaction to see that not only every scientific man to whom i applied, but that also our government appreciated your lifelong scientific labour.--believe me, my dear wallace, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. i should expect that there will be some delay before you receive an official announcement. * * * * * _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. january , ._ my dear darwin,--i need not say how very grateful i am to you for your constant kindness, and especially for the trouble you have taken in recommending me to mr. gladstone. it is also, of course, very gratifying to hear that so many eminent men have so good an opinion of the little scientific work i have done, for i myself feel it to be very little in comparison with that of many others. the amount you say mr. gladstone proposes to recommend is considerably more than i expected would be given, and it will relieve me from a great deal of the anxieties under which i have laboured for several years. to-day is my fifty-eighth birthday, and it is a happy omen that your letter should have arrived this morning. i presume after i receive the official communication will be the proper time to thank the persons who have signed the memorial in my favour. i do not know whether it is the proper etiquette to write a private letter of thanks to mr. gladstone, or only a general official one. whenever i hear anything from the government i will let you know. again thanking you for your kindness, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. january , ._ my dear wallace,--i am heartily glad that you are pleased about the memorial. i do not feel that my opinion is worth much on the point which you mention. a relation who is in a government office and whose judgment, i think, may be fully trusted, felt sure that if you received an official announcement without any private note, it ought to be answered officially, but if the case were mine, i would express whatever i thought and felt in an official document. his reason was that gladstone gives or recommends the pension on public grounds alone. if the case were mine i would not write to signers of the memorial, because i believe that they acted like so many jurymen in a claim against the government. nevertheless, if i met any of them or was writing to them on any other subject, i should take the opportunity of expressing my feelings. i think you might with propriety write to huxley, as he entered so heartily into the scheme and aided in the most important manner in many ways. sir j. lubbock called here yesterday and mr. f. balfour came here with one of my sons, and it would have pleased you to see how unfeignedly delighted they were at my news of the success of the memorial. i wrote also to tell the duke of argyll of the success, and he in answer expressed very sincere pleasure.--my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. * * * * * _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. january , ._ my dear darwin,--yours just received was very welcome, and the delay in its reaching me is of no importance whatever, as, having seen the announcement of the queen's approval of the pension, of course i felt it was safe. the antedating of the first payment is a very liberal and thoughtful act; but i do not think it is any way exceptional as regards myself. i am informed it is the custom because, as no payment is made after the death of the person, if the first payment were delayed the proposed recipient might die before the half-year (or quarter-day) and thus receive nothing at all. i suppose you sent the right address to mr. seymour. i have not yet heard from him, but i daresay i shall during the next week. as i am assured both by miss buckley and by prof. huxley that it is to you that i owe in the first place this great kindness, and that you have also taken an _immense_ amount of trouble to bring it to so successful issue, i must again return you my best thanks, and assure you that there is no one living to whose kindness in such a matter i could feel myself indebted with so much pleasure and satisfaction.--believe me, dear darwin, yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * _down, beckenham, kent. july ._ my dear wallace,--dr. g. krefft has sent me the enclosed from sydney. a nurseryman saw a caterpillar feeding on a plant and covered the whole up, but, when he searched for the cocoon [pupa], was long before he could find it, so good was its imitation, in colour and form, of the leaf to which it was attached. i hope that the world goes well with you. do not trouble yourself by acknowledging this.--ever yours, ch. darwin. accompanying this letter, which has been published in "darwin and modern science" ( ), was a photograph of the chrysalis (_papilio sarpedon choredon_) attached to a leaf of its food-plant. many butterfly pupæ are known to have the power of individual adjustment to the colours of the particular food-plant or other normal environment; and it is probable that the australian _papilio_ referred to by darwin possesses this power. * * * * * _nutwood cottage, frith hill, godalming, july , ._ my dear darwin,--i am just doing, what i have rarely if ever done before--reading a book through a second time immediately after the first perusal. i do not think i have ever been so attracted by a book, with perhaps the exception of your "origin of species" and spencer's "first principles" and "social statics." i wish therefore to call your attention to it, in case you care about books on social and political subjects, but here there is also an elaborate discussion of malthus's "principles of population," to which both you and i have acknowledged ourselves indebted. the present writer, mr. george, while admitting the main principle as self-evident and as actually operating in the case of animals and plants, denies that it ever has operated or can operate in the case of man, still less that it has any bearing whatever on the vast social and political questions which have been supported by a reference to it. he illustrates and supports his views with a wealth of illustrative facts and a cogency of argument which i have rarely seen equalled, while his style is equal to that of buckle, and thus his book is delightful reading. the title of the book is "progress and poverty." it has gone through six editions in america, and is now published in england by kegan paul. it is devoted mainly to a brilliant discussion and refutation of some of the most widely accepted maxims of political economy, such as the relation of wages and capital, the nature of rent and interest, the laws of distribution, etc., but all treated as parts of the main problem as stated in the title-page, "an enquiry into the cause of industrial depressions and of increase of want with increase of wealth." it is the most startling novel and original book of the last twenty years, and if i mistake not will in the future rank as making an advance in political and social science equal to that made by adam smith a century ago. i am here settled in my little cottage engaged in the occupation i most enjoy--making a garden, and admiring the infinite variety and beauty of vegetable life. i am out of doors all day and hardly read anything. as the long evenings come on i shall get on with my book on the "land question," in which i have found a powerful ally in mr. george. hoping you are well, believe me, yours most faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the following is the last letter wallace received from darwin, who died on wednesday, april , , in the seventy-fourth year of his age. _down, beckenham, kent. july , ._ my dear wallace,--i have been heartily glad to get your note and hear some news of you. i will certainly order "progress and poverty," for the subject is a most interesting one. but i read many years ago some books on political economy, and they produced a disastrous effect on my mind, viz. utterly to distrust my own judgment on the subject and to doubt much everyone else's judgment! so i feel pretty sure that mr. george's book will only make my mind worse confounded than it is at present. i, also, have just finished a book which has interested me greatly, but whether it would interest anyone else i know not: it is "the creed of science," by w. graham, a.m. who and what he is i know not, but he discusses many great subjects, such as the existence of god, immortality, the moral sense, the progress of society, etc. i think some of his propositions rest on very uncertain foundations, and i could get no clear idea of his notions about god. notwithstanding this and other blemishes, the book has interested me _extremely_. perhaps i have been to some extent deluded, as he manifestly ranks too high what i have done. i am delighted to hear that you spend so much time out of doors and in your garden; for with your wonderful power of observation you will see much which no one else has seen. from newman's old book (i forget the title) about the country near godalming, it must be charming. we have just returned home after spending five weeks on ullswater: the scenery is quite charming; but i cannot walk, and everything tires me, even seeing scenery, talking with anyone or reading much. what i shall do with my few remaining years of life i can hardly tell. i have everything to make me happy and contented, but life has become very wearisome to me. i heard lately from miss buckley in relation to lyell's life, and she mentioned that you were thinking of switzerland, which i should think and hope you will enjoy much. i see that you are going to write on the most difficult political question, the land. something ought to be done--but what is to rule? i hope that you will [not] turn renegade to natural history; but i suppose that politics are very tempting. with all good wishes for yourself and family, believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. * * * * * wallace's last letter to darwin was written in october, : _nutwood cottage, frith hill, godalming. october , ._ my dear darwin,--i have delayed writing to thank you for your book on worms till i had been able to read it, which i have now done with great pleasure and profit, since it has cleared up many obscure points as to the apparent sinking or burying of objects on the surface and the universal covering up of old buildings. i have hitherto looked upon them chiefly from the gardener's point of view--as a nuisance, but i shall tolerate their presence in the view of their utility and importance. a friend here to whom i am going to lend your book tells me that an agriculturist who had been in west australia, near swan river, told him many years ago of the hopelessness of farming there, illustrating the poverty and dryness of the soil by saying, "there are no worms in the ground." i do not see that you refer to the formation of leaf-mould by the mere decay of leaves, etc. in favourable places many inches or even feet of this is formed--i presume without the agency of worms. if so, would it not take part in the formation of all mould? and also the decay of the roots of grasses and of all annual plants, or do you suppose that _all_ these are devoured by worms? in reading the book i have not noticed a single erratum. i enclose you a copy of two letters to the _mark lane express_, written at the request of the editor, and which will show you the direction in which i am now working, and in which i hope to do a little good.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. footnotes: [ ] "while at hertford i lived altogether in five different houses, and in three of these the silk family lived next door to us, which involved not only each family having to move about the same time, but also that two houses adjoining each other should have been vacant together, and that they should have been of the size required by each, which after the first was not the same, the silk family being much the larger."--"my life," i. . [ ] "my life," i. - . [ ] "my life," i. - . [ ] darwin makes a similar comment: "i was very successful in collecting, and invented two new methods ... and thus i got some very rare species. no poet ever felt more delighted at seeing his first poem published than i did at seeing, in stephens' 'illustrations of british insects,' the magic words, 'captured by c. darwin, esq.'"--darwin's autobiography, in the one-volume "life," p. . [ ] "my life," i. - . [ ] there is no record in his autobiography as to the exact date when he first became acquainted with lyell's work, though several times reference is made to it. [ ] "travels on the amazon," p. . [ ] "voyage of the _beagle_," pp. - . [ ] "voyage of the _beagle_," p. . [ ] it is interesting to note that the careers of sir joseph hooker, charles darwin, h.w. bates, alfred russel wallace and t.h. huxley were all determined by voyages or journeys of exploration. [ ] "life of charles darwin" (one-volume edit.), p. . [ ] "voyage of the _beagle_," p. . [ ] this letter may have been written for publication. [ ] a reference to the loss of his earlier collection (p. ). [ ] the original of this letter is in the possession of the trustees of the british museum. [ ] for the other part of this letter see "my life," i. . [ ] "my early letters to bates suffice to show that the great problem of the origin of species was already distinctly formulated in my mind; that i was not satisfied with the more or less vague solutions at that time offered; that i believed the conception of evolution through natural law so clearly formulated in the 'vestiges' to be, so far as it went, a true one; and that i firmly believed that a full and careful study of the facts of nature would ultimately lead to a solution of the mystery."--"my life," i. - . [ ] "on the law which has regulated the introduction of species."--_ann. and mag. of natural history_, nd series, , xvi. . [ ] "life of charles darwin" (one-vol. edit.), p. . [ ] "life of charles darwin," (one-vol. edit.), p. , [ ] _see post_, p. . [ ] "my life," i. . [ ] "my life," i. - . [ ] it will be remembered, that darwin died in april, , twenty-six years previously. [ ] "life and letters of charles darwin," ii. . [ ] "the herbert spencer lecture," delivered at the museum, december , . (clarendon press, oxford.) [ ] "my life," ii. - . [ ] "on the law which has regulated the introduction of new species."--_ann. and mag. of nat. hist._, . the law is thus stated by wallace: "every species has come into existence coincident both in time and space with a pre-existing closely-allied species." [ ] "the origin of species." [ ] "the origin of species." [ ] first edit., , pp. , . [ ] "on the tendency of species to form varieties and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection." by c. darwin and a.r. wallace. communicated by sir c. lyell and j.d. hooker. _journ. linn. soc._, , iii. . read july st, . [ ] "on the law which has regulated the introduction of new species." _ann. and mag. of nat. hist._, , xvi. . [ ] this seems to refer to wallace's paper on "the zoological geography of the malay archipelago," _journ. linn. soc._, . [ ] dr. samuel wilberforce. [ ] now major leonard darwin. [ ] the last sheet of the letter is missing. [ ] wallace's paper was entitled "remarks on the rev. s. haughton's paper on the bee's cells and on the origin of species." prof. haughton's paper appeared in the _ann. and mag. of nat. hist._, , xi. . wallace's was published in the same journal. [ ] for march, . [ ] _reader_, april , . an abstract of wallace's paper "on the phenomena of variation and geographical distribution, as illustrated by the papilionidæ of the malayan region," _linn. soc. trans._, xxv. [ ] _anthropolog. rev._, . [ ] _nat. hist. rev._, , p. . [ ] "read june, ."--a.r.w. [ ] "june , ."--a.r.w. [ ] "referring to my broken engagement."--a.r.w. [ ] paper on the three forms of lythrum. [ ] probably the one on the distribution of malayan butterflies, _linn. soc. trans._, xxv. [ ] e.b. tylor's "early history of mankind," and lecky's "rationalism." [ ] "prehistoric times." [ ] the note speaks of the "characteristic unselfishness" with which wallace ascribed the theory of natural selection to darwin. [ ] "für darwin." [ ] "on the pigeons of the malay archipelago," _ibis_, october, . wallace points out (p. ) that "the most striking superabundance of pigeons, as well as of parrots, is confined to the australo-malayan sub-regions in which ... the forest-haunting and fruit-eating mammals, such as monkeys and squirrels, are totally absent." he points out also that monkeys are "exceedingly destructive to eggs and young birds."--note, "more letters," i. . [ ] "the geographical distribution and variability of the malayan papilionidæ," _linn. soc. trans._, xxv. [ ] the passage referred to in this letter as needing farther explanation is the following: "the last six cases of mimicry are especially instructive, because they seem to indicate one of the processes by which dimorphic forms have been produced. when, as in these cases, one sex differs much from the other, and varies greatly itself, it may be that individual variations will occasionally occur, having a distant resemblance to groups which are the objects of mimicry, and which it is therefore advantageous to resemble. such a variety will have a better chance of preservation; the individuals possessing it will be multiplied; and their accidental likeness to the favoured group will be rendered permanent by hereditary transmission, and each successive variation which increases the resemblance being preserved, and all variation departing from the favoured type having less chance of preservation, there will in time result those singular cases of two or more isolated and fixed forms bound together by that intimate relationship which constitutes them the sexes of a single species. the reason why the females are more subject to this kind of modification than the males is probably that their slower flight when laden with eggs, and their exposure to attack while in the act of depositing their eggs upon leaves, render it especially advantageous for them to have additional protection. this they at once obtain by acquiring a resemblance to other species which, from whatever cause, enjoy a comparative immunity from persecution." [ ] this no doubt refers to janet's "matérialisme contemporain." [ ] _quarterly journal of science_, january , . "ice marks in north wales," by a.r. wallace. [ ] i.e., the suggestion that conspicuous caterpillars or perfect insects (e.g. white butterflies) which are distasteful to birds are protected by being easily recognised and avoided. [ ] a bearded woman having an irregular double set of teeth. see "animals and plants," ii. . [ ] the letter to which this is a reply is missing. it evidently refers to wallace's belief in the paramount importance of protection in the evolution of colour. _see also_ darwin's letter of february , . [ ] _menura superba._ see "the descent of man" ( ), p. . rhynchæa, mentioned on p. , is discussed in the "descent," p. . the female is more brightly coloured than the male and has a convoluted trachea, elsewhere a masculine character. there seems some reason to suppose that "the male undertakes the duty of incubation." [ ] _westminster review_, july, . [ ] _angræcum sesquipedale_, a madagascar orchid, with a whip-like nectary, to in. in length, which, according to darwin ("fertilisation of orchids," nd edit., p. ), is adapted to the visits of a moth with a proboscis of corresponding length. he points out that there is no difficulty in believing in the existence of such a moth as f. müller had described (_nature_, , p. ), a brazilian sphinx-moth with a trunk to in. in length. moreover, forbes had given evidence to show that such an insect does exist in madagascar (_nature_, , p. ). the case of _angræcum_ was put forward by the duke of argyll as being necessarily due to the personal contrivance of the deity. mr. wallace shows (p. , _quarterly journal of science_, ) that both proboscis and nectary might be increased in length by means of natural selection. it may be added that hermann müller has shown good grounds for believing that mutual specialisation of this kind is beneficial both to insect and to plant. [ ] "variation of animals and plants," st edit., ii. . "did he cause the frame and mental qualities of the dog to vary in order that a breed might be formed of indomitable ferocity, with jaws fitted to pin down the bull for man's brutal sport?" [ ] _see_ wallace, _quarterly journ. of sci._, , pp. - . he imagined an observer examining a great river system, and finding everywhere adaptations which reveal the design of the creator. "he would see special adaptations to the wants of man in the broad, quiet, navigable rivers, through fertile alluvial plains, that would support a large population, while the rocky streams and mountain torrents were confined to those sterile regions suitable for a small population of shepherds and herdsmen." [ ] at p. wallace deals with fleeming jenkin's review in the _north british review_, . the review strives to show that there are strict limitations to variation, since the most rigorous and long-continued selection does not indefinitely increase such a quality as the fleetness of a racehorse. on this wallace remarks that the argument "fails to meet the real question," which is not whether indefinite change is possible, but "whether such differences as do occur in nature could have been produced by the accumulation of variations by selection." [ ] abstract of a paper on "birds' nests and plumage," read before the british association. see _gard. chron._, , p. . [ ] sir henry holland, bart., m.d., f.r.s., a writer on mental physiology and other scientific subjects (b. , d. ). [ ] "this turns out to be inaccurate, or greatly exaggerated. there are no true alpines, and the european genera are comparatively few. _see_ my 'island life,' p. ."--a.r.w. [ ] "in pigeons" and "lizards" inserted by a.r.w. [ ] see _westminster review_, july, , p. . [ ] _proc. linn. soc._, - , p. . [ ] it is not enough that females should be produced from the males with red feathers, which should be destitute of red feathers; but these females must have a _latent tendency_ to produce such feathers, otherwise they would cause deterioration in the red head-feathers of their male offspring. such latent tendency would be shown by their producing the red feathers when old or diseased in their ovaria. [ ] the symbols [male symbol], [female symbol] stand for male and female respectively. [ ] the fifth. [ ] explained in letter of february , . _see_ p. . [ ] june, . [ ] "malay archipelago." [ ] "malay archipelago." [ ] the fifth edition, pp. - . [ ] in the _quarterly review_, april, . [ ] inserted by a.r.w. [ ] "the descent of man." [ ] "the genesis of species," by st. g. mivart. . [ ] in the _academy_, march , . [ ] "mr. wallace says that the pairing of butterflies is probably determined by the fact that one male is stronger-winged or more pertinacious than the rest, rather than by the choice of the females. he quotes the case of caterpillars which are brightly coloured and yet sexless. mr. wallace also makes the good criticism that 'the descent of man' consists of two books mixed together."--"life and letters of charles darwin," iii. . [ ] g. crotch was a well-known coleopterist and official in the university library at cambridge. [ ] _spectator_, march and , . "with regard to the evolution of conscience the reviewer thinks that mr. darwin comes much nearer to the 'kernel of the psychological problem' than many of his predecessors. the second article contains a good discussion of the bearing of the book on the question of design, and concludes by finding in it a vindication of theism more wonderful than that in paley's 'natural theology.'"--"life and letters," iii. . [ ] _north american review_, vol. , pp. , . chauncey wright points out that the words omitted are "essential to the point on which he [mr. mivart] cites mr. darwin's authority." it should be mentioned that the passage from which words are omitted is not given within inverted commas by mr. mivart.--_see_ "life and letters of charles darwin," iii. . [ ] july, . [ ] a review of dr. bree's book, "an exposition of fallacies in the hypotheses of mr. darwin."--_nature_, july , . [ ] "bree on darwinism," _nature_, aug. , . the letter is as follows: "permit me to state--though the statement is almost superfluous--that mr. wallace, in his review of dr. bree's work, gives with perfect correctness what i intended to express, and what i believe was expressed clearly, with respect to the probable position of man in the early part of his pedigree. as i have not seen dr. bree's recent work, and as his letter is unintelligible to me, i cannot even conjecture how he has so completely mistaken my meaning; but, perhaps, no one who has read mr. wallace's article, or who has read a work formerly published by dr. bree on the same subject as his recent one, will be surprised at any amount of misunderstanding on his part.--charles darwin, aug. ." _see_ "life and letters of charles darwin," iii. . [ ] that is to say, spontaneous generation. for the distinction between archebiosis and heterogenesis, _see_ bastian, chap. vi. _see also_ "life and letters of charles darwin," iii. . [ ] sir henry cole, k.c.b. ( - ). [ ] "expression of the emotions." [ ] _quarterly journal of science_, january, , p. : "i can hardly believe that when a cat, lying on a shawl or other soft material, pats or pounds it with its feet, or sometimes sucks a piece of it, it is the persistence of the habit of pressing the mammary glands and sucking during kittenhood." wallace goes on to say that infantine habits are generally completely lost in adult life, and that it seems unlikely that they should persist in a few isolated instances. [ ] wallace speaks of "a readiness to accept the most marvellous conclusions or interpretations of physiologists on what seem very insufficient grounds," and he goes on to assert that the frog experiment is either incorrectly recorded, or else that it "demonstrates volition, and not reflex action." [ ] the raising of the hands in surprise is explained ("expression of the emotions," st edit., p. ) on the doctrine of antithesis as being the opposite of listlessness. mr. wallace's view (given in the second edition of "expression of the emotions," p. ) is that the gesture is appropriate to sudden defence or to the giving of aid to another person. [ ] at this time darwin, while very busy with other work, had to prepare a second edition of "the descent of man," and it is probable that he or the publishers suggested that wallace should make the necessary corrections.--editor. [ ] "insectivorous plants." [ ] "the geographical distribution of animals." . [ ] wallace points out that "hardly a small island on the globe but has some land shell peculiar to it," and he goes so far as to say that probably air-breathing mollusca have been chiefly distributed by air- or water-carriage, rather than by voluntary dispersal on the land. _see_ "more letters," ii. . [ ] _see_ "the descent of man," st edit., pp. and , for drawings of the argus pheasant and its markings. the ocelli on the wing feathers were favourite objects of darwin's, and sometimes formed the subject of the little lectures which on rare occasions he would give to a visitor interested in natural history. in wallace's book, the meaning of the ocelli comes in by the way, in the explanation of plate ix., "a malayan forest with some of its peculiar birds." the case is a "remarkable confirmation of mr. darwin's views, that gaily coloured plumes are developed in the male bird for the purpose of attractive display." [ ] "geographical distribution of animals," i. - . [ ] "geographical distribution," i. . the name lemuria was proposed by mr. sclater for an imaginary submerged continent extending from madagascar to ceylon and sumatra. wallace points out that if we confine ourselves to facts lemuria is reduced to madagascar, which he makes a subdivision of the ethiopian region. [ ] h.f. blandford, "on the age and correlations of the plant-bearing series of india and the former existence of an indo-oceanic continent" (_quart. journ. geol. soc_., , xxxi. ). [ ] in the _contemporary review_ for august, , mr. george darwin wrote an article "on beneficial restrictions to liberty of marriage." in the july number of the _quarterly review_, , p. , in an article entitled "primitive man--tylor and lubbock," mr. mivart thus referred to mr. darwin's article: "elsewhere (pp. - ) mr. george darwin speaks ( ) in an approving strain of the most oppressive laws and of the encouragement of vice to check population. ( ) there is no sexual criminality of pagan days that might not be defended on the principles advocated by the school to which this writer belongs." in the _quarterly review_ for october, , p. , appeared a letter from mr. george darwin "absolutely denying" charge no. , and with respect to charge no. he wrote: "i deny that there is any thought or word in my essay which could in any way lend itself to the support of the nameless crimes here referred to." to the letter was appended a note from mr. mivart, in which he said: "nothing would have been further from our intention than to tax mr. darwin personally (as he seems to have supposed) with the advocacy of laws or acts which he saw to be oppressive or vicious. we, therefore, most willingly accept his disclaimer, and are glad to find that he does not, in fact, apprehend the full tendency of the doctrines which he has helped to propagate. nevertheless, we cannot allow that we have enunciated a single proposition which is either 'false' or 'groundless.' ... but when a writer, according to his own confession, comes before the public 'to attack the institution of marriage' ... he must expect searching criticism; and, without implying that mr. darwin has in 'thought' or 'word' approved of anything which he wishes to disclaim, we must still maintain that the doctrines which he advocates are most dangerous and pernicious."--editor. [ ] the pages refer to vol. ii. of wallace's "geographical distribution." [ ] the number ( ) was erroneously omitted.--a.r.w. [ ] an error: should have been the australian.--a.r.w. [ ] axel blytt, "essay on the immigration of the norwegian flora." christiania, . [ ] june , , p. _et seq._ [ ] "the origin of species and genera." [ ] "island life." [ ] in "my life" (ii. - ) wallace writes; "with this came seven foolscap pages of notes, many giving facts from his extensive reading which i had not seen. there were also a good many doubts and suggestions on the very difficult questions in the discussion of the causes of the glacial epochs. chapter xxiii., discussing the arctic element in south temperate floras, was the part he most objected to, saying, 'this is rather too speculative for my old noddle. i must think that you overrate the importance of new surfaces on mountains and dispersal from mountain to mountain. i still believe in alpine plants having lived on the lowlands and in the southern tropical regions having been cooled during glacial periods, and thus only can i understand character of floras on the isolated african mountains. it appears to me that you are not justified in arguing from dispersal to oceanic islands to mountains. not only in latter cases currents of sea are absent, but what is there to make birds fly direct from one alpine summit to another? there is left only storms of wind, and if it is probable or possible that seeds may thus be carried for great distances, i do not believe that there is at present any evidence of their being thus carried more than a few miles.' this is the most connected piece of criticism in the notes, and i therefore give it verbatim." [ ] "_nature_, december , . the substance of this article by mr. baker, of kew, is given in 'more letters,' vol. iii. , in a footnote."--"my life," ii. . [transcriber's note: footnotes moved to end of book] alfred russel wallace letters and reminiscences [illustration: a.r. wallace ( )] alfred russel wallace letters and reminiscences by james marchant _with two photogravures and eight half-tone plates_ in two volumes volume ii cassell and company, ltd london, new york, toronto and melbourne contents of volume ii part iii i. wallace's works on biology and geographical distribution ii. correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc. ( - ) iii. correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc. ( - ) part iv home life part v social and political views part vi some further problems i. astronomy ii. spiritualism part vii characteristics appendix: lists of wallace's writings index list of plates in volume ii a.r. wallace ( ) _photogravure frontispiece_ mrs. a.r. wallace (about ) the study at "old orchard" a.r. wallace admiring eremurus robustus (about ) grave of alfred russel and annie wallace wallace and darwin medallions in the north aisle of the choir of westminster abbey alfred russel wallace letters and reminiscences part iii i.--wallace's works on biology and geographical distribution "i have long recognised how much clearer and deeper your insight into matters is than mine." "i sometimes marvel how truth progresses, so difficult is it for one man to convince another, unless his mind is vacant." "i grieve to differ from you, and it actually terrifies me, and makes me constantly distrust myself. i fear we shall never quite understand each other." --darwin to wallace. during the period covered by the reception, exposition, and gradual acceptance of the theory of natural selection, both wallace and darwin were much occupied with closely allied scientific work. the publication in of the "origin of species"[ ] marked a distinct period in the course of darwin's scientific labours; his previous publications had, in a measure, prepared the way for this, and those which immediately followed were branches growing out from the main line of thought and argument contained in the "origin," an overflow of the "mass of facts" patiently gathered during the preceding years. with wallace, the end of the first period of his literary work was completed by the publication of his two large volumes on "the geographical distribution of animals," towards which all his previous thought and writings had tended, and from which, again, came other valuable works leading up to the publication of "darwinism" ( ). it will be remembered that darwin and wallace, on their respective returns to england, after many years spent in journeyings by land and sea and in laborious research, found the first few months fully occupied in going over their large and varied collections, sorting and arranging with scrupulous care the rare specimens they had taken, and in discovering the right men to name and classify them into correct groups. at this point it will be useful to arrange darwin's writings under three heads, namely: ( ) his zoological and geological books, including "the voyage of the _beagle_" (published in ), "coral reefs" ( ), and "geological observations on south america" ( ). in this year he also began his work on barnacles, which was published in ; and in addition to the steady work on the "origin of species" from onwards, his observations on "earthworms," not published until , formed a distinct phase of his study during the whole of these years ( - ). ( ) as a natural sequence we have "variations of animals and plants under domestication" ( ), "the descent of man" ( ), and "the expression of the emotions" ( ). ( ) what may be termed his botanical works, largely influenced by his evolutionary ideas, which include "the fertilisation of orchids" ( ), "movements and habits of climbing plants" ( ), "insectivorous plants" ( ), "the different forms of flowers and plants of the same species" ( ), and "the power of movement in plants" ( ). a different order, equally characteristic, is discovered in wallace's writings, and it is to be noted that while darwin devoted himself entirely to scientific subjects, wallace diverged at intervals from natural science to what may be termed the scientific consideration of social conditions, in addition to his researches into spiritualistic phenomena. the many enticing interests arising out of the classifying of his birds and insects led wallace to the conclusion that it would be best to postpone the writing of his book on the malay archipelago until he could embody in it the more generally important results derived from the detailed study of certain portions of his collections. thus it was not until seven years later ( ) that this complete sketch of his travels "from the point of view of the philosophic naturalist" appeared. between and he wrote a number of articles which were published in various journals and magazines, and he read some important papers before the linnean, entomological, and other learned societies. these included several on physical and zoological geography; six on questions of anthropology; and five or six dealing with special applications of natural selection. as these papers "discussed matters of considerable interest and novelty," such a summary of them may be given as will serve to indicate their value to natural science. the first of them, read before the zoological society in january, , gave some detailed information about his collection of birds brought from buru. in this he showed that the island was originally one of the moluccan group, as every bird found there which was not widely distributed was either identical with or closely allied to moluccan species, while none had special affinities with celebes. it was clear, then, that this island formed the most westerly outlier of the moluccan group. the next paper of importance, read before the same society in november ( ), was on the birds of the chain of islands extending from lombok to the great island of timor. this included a list of species of birds, of which twenty-nine were altogether new. a special feature of the paper was that it enabled him to mark out precisely the boundary line between the indian and australian zoological regions, and to trace the derivation of the rather peculiar fauna of these islands, partly from australia and partly from the moluccas, but with a strong recent migration of javanese species due to the very narrow straits separating most of the islands from each other. in "my life" some interesting tables are given to illustrate how the two streams of immigration entered these islands, and further that "as its geological structure shows ... timor is the older island and received immigrants from australia at a period when, probably, lombok and flores had not come into existence or were unhabitable.... we can," he says, "feel confident that timor has not been connected with australia, because it has none of the peculiar australian mammalia, and also because many of the commonest and most widespread groups of australian birds are entirely wanting."[ ] two other papers, dealing with parrots and pigeons respectively ( - ), were thought by wallace himself to be among the most important of his studies of geographical distribution. writing of them he says: "these peculiarities of distribution and coloration in two such very diverse groups of birds interested me greatly, and i endeavoured to explain them in accordance with the laws of natural selection." in march, , having begun to make a special study of his collection of butterflies, he prepared a paper for the linnean society on "the malayan papilionidæ, as illustrating the theory of natural selection." the introductory portion of this paper appeared in the first edition of his volume entitled "contributions to the theory of natural selection" ( ), but it was omitted in later editions as being too technical for the general reader. from certain remarks found here and there, both in "my life" and other works, butterflies would appear to have had a special charm and attraction for wallace. their varied and gorgeous colourings were a ceaseless delight to his eye, and when describing them one feels the sense of pleasure which this gave him, together with the recollection of the far-off haunts in which he had first discovered them. this series of papers on birds and insects, with others on the physical geography of the archipelago and its various races of man, furnished all the necessary materials for the general sketch of the natural history of these islands, and the many problems arising therefrom, which made the "malay archipelago" the most popular of his books. in addition to his own personal knowledge, however, some interesting comparisons are drawn between the accounts given by early explorers and the impressions left on his own mind by the same places and people. on the publication of this work, in , extensive and highly appreciative reviews appeared in all the leading papers and journals, and to-day it is still looked upon as one of the most trustworthy and informative books of travel. when the "malay archipelago" was in progress, a lengthy article on "geological climates and the origin of species" (which formed the foundation for "island life" twelve years later) appeared in the _quarterly review_ (april, ). several references in this to the "principles of geology"--sir charles lyell's great work--gave much satisfaction both to lyell and to darwin. the underlying argument was a combination of the views held by sir charles lyell and mr. croll respectively in relation to the glacial epoch, and the great effect of changed distribution of sea and land, or of differences of altitude, and how by combining the two a better explanation could be arrived at than by accepting each theory on its own basis. his next publication of importance was the volume entitled "contributions to the theory of natural selection," consisting of ten essays (all of which had previously appeared in various periodicals) arranged in the following order: . on the law which has regulated the introduction of new species. . on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type. . mimicry, and other protective resemblances among animals. . the malayan papilionidæ. . instinct in man and animals. . the philosophy of birds' nests. . a theory of birds' nests. . creation by law. . the development of human races under the law of natural selection. . the limits of natural selection as applied to man. his reasons for publishing this work were, first, that the first two papers of the series had gained him the reputation of being an originator of the theory of natural selection, and, secondly, that there were a few important points relating to the origin of life and consciousness and the mental and moral qualities of man and other views on which he entirely differed from darwin. though in later years wallace's convictions developed considerably with regard to the spiritual aspect of man's nature, he never deviated from the ideas laid down in these essays. only a very brief outline must suffice to convey some of the most important points. in the childhood of the human race, he believed, natural selection would operate mainly on man's body, but in later periods upon the mind. hence it would happen that the physical forms of the different races were early fixed in a permanent manner. sharper claws, stronger muscles, swifter feet and tougher hides determine the survival value of lower animals. with man, however, the finer intellect, the readier adaptability to environment, the greater susceptibility to improvement, and the elastic capacity for co-ordination, were the qualities which determined his career. tribes which are weak in these qualities give way and perish before tribes which are strong in them, whatever advantages the former may possess in physical structure. the finest savage has always succumbed before the advance of civilisation. "the red indian goes down before the white man, and the new zealander vanishes in presence of the english settler." nature, careless in this stage of evolution about the body, selects for survival those varieties of mankind which excel in mental qualities. hence it has happened that the physical characteristics of the different races, once fixed in very early prehistoric times, have never greatly varied. they have passed out of the range of natural selection because they have become comparatively unimportant in the struggle for existence. after going into considerable detail of organic and physical development, he says: "the inference i would draw from this class of phenomena is, that a superior intelligence has guided the development of man in a definite direction, and for a special purpose, just as man guides the development of many animal and vegetable forms." thus he foreshadows the conclusion, to be more fully developed in "the world of life" ( ), of an over-ruling god, of the spiritual nature of man, and of the other world of spiritual beings. an essay that excited special attention was that on mimicry. the two on birds' nests brought forth some rather heated correspondence from amateur naturalists, to which wallace replied either by adducing confirmation of the facts stated, or by thanking them for the information they had given him. with reference to the paper on mimicry, it is interesting to note that the hypothesis therein adopted was first suggested by h.w. bates, wallace's friend and fellow-traveller in south america. the essay under this title dealt with the subject in a most fascinating manner, and was probably the first to arouse widespread interest in this aspect of natural science. the next eight years saw the production of many important and valuable works, amongst which the "geographical distribution of animals" ( ) occupies the chief place. this work, though perhaps the least known to the average reader, was considered by wallace to be the most important scientific work he ever attempted. from references in letters written during his stay in the malay archipelago, it is clear that the subject had a strong attraction for him, and formed a special branch of study and observation many years before he began to work it out systematically in writing. his decision to write the book was the outcome of a suggestion made to him by prof. a. newton and dr. sclater about . in addition to having already expressed his general views on this subject in various papers and articles, he had, after careful consideration, come to adopt dr. sclater's division of the earth's surface into six great zoological regions, which he found equally applicable to birds, mammalia, reptiles, and other great divisions; while at the same time it helped to explain the apparent contradictions in the distribution of land animals. some years later he wrote: in whatever work i have done i have always aimed at systematic arrangement and uniformity of treatment throughout. but here the immense extent of the subject, the overwhelming mass of detail, and above all the excessive diversities in the amount of knowledge of the different classes of animals, rendered it quite impossible to treat all alike. my preliminary studies had already satisfied me that it was quite useless to attempt to found any conclusions on those groups which were comparatively little known, either as regards the proportion of species collected and described, or as regards their systematic classification. it was also clear that as the present distribution of animals is necessarily due to their past distribution, the greatest importance must be given to those groups whose fossil remains in the more recent strata are the most abundant and the best known. these considerations led me to limit my work in its detailed systematic groundwork, and study of the principles and law of distribution, to the mammalia and birds, and to apply the principles thus arrived at to an explanation of the distribution of other groups, such as reptiles, fresh-water fishes, land and fresh-water shells, and the best-known insect orders. there remained another fundamental point to consider. geographical distribution in its practical applications and interest, both to students and to the general reader, consists of two distinct divisions, or rather, perhaps, may be looked at from two points of view. in the first of these we divide the earth into regions and sub-regions, study the causes which have led to the difference in their animal productions, give a general account of these, with the amount of resemblance to and difference from other regions; and we may also give lists of the families and genera inhabiting each, with indications as to which are peculiar and which are also found in adjacent regions. this aspect of the study i term zoological geography, and it is that which would be of most interest to the resident or travelling naturalist, as it would give him, in the most direct and compact form, an indication of the numbers and kinds of animals he might expect to meet with.[ ] the keynote of the general scheme of distribution, as set forth in these two volumes, may be expressed as an endeavour to compare the extinct and existing fauna of each country and to trace the course by which what is now peculiar to each region had come to assume its present character. the main result being that all the higher forms of life seem to have originally appeared in the northern hemisphere, which has sent out migration after migration to colonise the three southern continents; and although varying considerably from time to time in form and extent, each has kept essentially distinct, while at the same time receiving periodically wave after wave of fresh animal life from the northward. this again was due to many physical causes such as peninsulas parting from continents as islands, islands joining and making new continents, continents breaking up or effecting junction with or being isolated from one another. thus australia received the germ of her present abundant fauna of pouched mammals when she was part of the old-world continent, but separated from that too soon to receive the various placental mammals which have, except in her isolated area, superseded those older forms. so, also, south america, at one time unconnected with north america, developed her great sloths and armadilloes, and, on fusing with the latter, sent her megatheriums to the north, and received mastodons and large cats in exchange. some of the points, such for instance as the division of the sub-regions into which each greater division is separated, gave rise to considerable controversy. wallace's final estimate of the work stands: "no one is more aware than myself of the defects of the work, a considerable portion of which are due to the fact that it was written a quarter of a century too soon--at a time when both zoological and palæontological discovery were advancing with great rapidity, while new and improved classifications of some of the great classes and orders were in constant progress. but though many of the details given in these volumes would now require alteration, there is no reason to believe that the great features of the work and general principles established by it will require any important modification."[ ] about this time he wrote the article on "acclimatisation" for the "encyclopædia britannica"; and another on "distribution-zoology" for the same work. as president of the biological section of the british association he prepared an address for the meeting at glasgow; wrote a number of articles and reviews, as well as his remarkable book on "miracles and modern spiritualism." in he published "tropical nature," in which he gave a general sketch of the climate, vegetation, and animal life of the equatorial zone of the tropics from his own observations in both hemispheres. the chief novelty was, according to his own opinion, in the chapter on "climate," in which he endeavoured to show the exact causes which produce the difference between the uniform climate of the equatorial zone, and that of june and july in england. although at that time _we_ receive actually more of the light and heat of the sun than does java or trinidad in december, yet these places have then a mean temperature very much higher than ours. it contained also a chapter on humming-birds, as illustrating the luxuriance of tropical nature; and others on the colours of animals and of plants, and on various biological problems.[ ] "island life"[ ] (published ) was begun in , and occupied the greater part of the next three years. this had been suggested by certain necessary limitations in the writing of "the geographical distribution of animals." it is a fascinating account of the relations of islands to continents, of their unwritten records of the distribution of plant and animal life in the morning time of the earth, of the causes and results of the glacial period, and of the manner of reckoning the age of the world from geological data. it also included several new features of natural science, and still retains an important place in scientific literature. no better summary can be given than that by the author himself: in my "geographical distribution of animals" i had, in the first place, dealt with the larger groups, coming down to families and genera, but taking no account of the various problems raised by the distribution of particular _species_. in the next place, i had taken little account of the various islands of the globe, excepting as forming sub-regions or parts of sub-regions. but i had long seen the great interest and importance of these, and especially of darwin's great discovery of the two classes into which they are naturally divided--oceanic and continental islands. i had already given lectures on this subject, and had become aware of the great interest attaching to them, and the great light they threw upon the means of dispersal of animals and plants, as well as upon the past changes, both physical and means of dispersal and colonisation of animals is so connected with, and often dependent on, that of plants, that a consideration of the latter is essential to any broad views as to the distribution of life upon the earth, while they throw unexpected light upon those exceptional means of dispersal which, because they are exceptional, are often of paramount importance in leading to the production of new species and in thus determining the nature of insular floras and faunas. having no knowledge of scientific botany, it needed some courage, or, as some may think, presumption, to deal with this aspect of the problem; but ... i had long been excessively fond of plants, and ... interested in their distribution. the subject, too, was easier to deal with, on account of the much more complete knowledge of the detailed distribution of plants than of animals, and also because their classification was in a more advanced and stable condition. again, some of the most interesting islands of the globe had been carefully studied botanically by such eminent botanists as sir joseph hooker for the galapagos, new zealand, tasmania, and the antarctic islands; mr. h.c. watson for the azores; mr. j.g. baker for mauritius and other mascarene islands; while there were floras by competent botanists of the sandwich islands, bermuda and st. helena.... but i also found it necessary to deal with a totally distinct branch of science--recent changes of climate as dependent on changes of the earth's surface, including the causes and effects of the glacial epoch, since these were among the most powerful agents in causing the dispersal of all kinds of organisms, and thus bringing about the actual distribution that now prevails. this led me to a careful study of mr. james croll's remarkable works on the subject of the astronomical causes of the glacial and interglacial periods.... while differing on certain details, i adopted the main features of his theory, combining with it the effects of changes in height and extent of land which form an important adjunct to the meteorological agents.... besides this partially new theory of the causes of glacial epochs, the work contained a fuller statement of the various kinds of evidence proving that the great oceanic basins are permanent features of the earth's surface, than had before been given; also a discussion of the mode of estimating the duration of geological periods, and some considerations leading to the conclusion that organic change is now less rapid than the average, and therefore that less time is required for this change than has hitherto been thought necessary. i was also, i believe, the first to point out the great difference between the more ancient continental islands and those of more recent origin, with the interesting conclusions as to geographical changes afforded by both; while the most important novelty is the theory by which i explained the occurrence of northern groups of plants in all parts of the southern hemisphere--a phenomenon which sir joseph hooker had pointed out, but had then no means of explaining.[ ] in wallace wrote a volume on australasia for stanford's "compendium of geography and travel." a later edition was published in , which contained in addition to the physical geography, natural history, and geology of australia, a much fuller account of the natives of australia, showing that they are really a primitive type of the great caucasian family of mankind, and are by no means so low in intellect as had been usually believed. this view has since been widely accepted. having, towards the close of , received an invitation from the lowell institute, boston, u.s.a., to deliver a course of lectures in the autumn and winter of , wallace decided upon a series which would embody those theories of evolution with which he was most familiar, with a special one on "the darwinian theory" illustrated by a set of original diagrams on variation. these lectures eventually became merged into the well-known book entitled "darwinism." on the first delivery of his lecture on the "darwinian theory" at boston it was no small pleasure to wallace to find the audience both large and attentive. one of the newspapers expressed the public appreciation in the following truly american fashion: "the first darwinian, wallace, did not leave a leg for anti-darwinism to stand on when he had got through his first lowell lecture last evening. it was a masterpiece of condensed statement--as clear and simple as compact--a most beautiful specimen of scientific work. dr. wallace, though not an orator, is likely to become a favourite as a lecturer, his manner is so genuinely modest and straightforward." wherever he went during his tour of the states this lecture more than all others attracted and pleased his audiences. many who had the opportunity of conversing with him, and others by correspondence, confessed that they had not been able to understand the "origin of species" until they heard the facts explained in such a lucid manner by him. it was this fact, therefore, which led him, on his return home in the autumn of , to begin the preparation of the book ("darwinism") published in . the method he chose was that of following as closely as possible the lines of thought running through the "origin of species," to which he added many new features, in addition to laying special emphasis on the parts which had been most generally misunderstood. indeed, so fairly and impartially did he set forth the general principles of the darwinian theory that he was able to say: "some of my critics declare that i am more darwinian than darwin himself, and in this, i admit, they are not far wrong." his one object, as set out in the preface, was to treat the problem of the origin of species from the standpoint reached after nearly thirty years of discussion, with an abundance of new facts and the advocacy of many new and old theories. as it had frequently been considered a weakness on darwin's part that he based his evidence primarily on experiments with domesticated animals and cultivated plants, wallace desired to secure a firm foundation for the theory in the variation of organisms in a state of nature. it was in order to make these facts intelligible that he introduced a number of diagrams, just as darwin was accustomed to appeal to the facts of variation among dogs and pigeons. another change which he considered important was that of taking the struggle for existence first, because this is the fundamental phenomenon on which natural selection depends. this, too, had a further advantage in that, after discussing variations and the effects of artificial selection, it was possible at once to explain how natural selection acts. the subjects treated with novelty and interest in their important bearings on the theory of natural selection were: ( ) a proof that all _specific_ characters are (or once have been) either useful in themselves or correlated with useful characters (chap. vi.); ( ) a proof that natural selection can, in certain cases, increase the sterility of crosses (chap. vii.); ( ) a fuller discussion of the colour relations of animals, with additional facts and arguments on the origin of sexual differences of colour (chaps. viii.-x.); ( ) an attempted solution of the difficulty presented by the occurrence of both very simple and complex modes of securing the cross-fertilisation of plants (chap. xi.); ( ) some fresh facts and arguments on the wind-carriage of seeds, and its bearing on the wide dispersal of many arctic and alpine plants (chap. xii.); ( ) some new illustrations of the non-heredity of acquired characters, and a proof that the effects of use and disuse, even if inherited, must be overpowered by natural selection (chap. xiv.); and ( ) a new argument as to the nature and origin of the moral and intellectual faculties of man (chap. xv.). "although i maintain, and even enforce," wrote wallace, "my differences from some of darwin's views, my whole work tends forcibly to illustrate the overwhelming importance of natural selection over all other agencies in the production of new species. i thus take up darwin's earlier position, from which he somewhat receded in the later editions of his works, on account of criticisms and objections which i have endeavoured to show are unsound. even in rejecting that phase of sexual selection depending on female choice, i insist on the greater efficacy of natural selection. this is pre-eminently the darwinian doctrine, and i therefore claim for my book the position of being the advocate of pure darwinism." in concluding this section which, like a previous one, touches upon the intimate relations between darwin and wallace, and the points on which they agreed or differed, it is well, as the differences have been exaggerated and misunderstood, to bear in mind his own declaration: "none of my differences from darwin imply any real divergence as to the overwhelming importance of the great principle of natural selection, while in several directions i believe that i have extended and strengthened it."[ ] with these explanatory notes the reader will now be able to follow the two groups of letters on natural selection, geographical distribution, and the origin of life and consciousness which follow. part iii (_continued_) ii.--correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc. [ - ] * * * * * h. spencer to a.r. wallace _ bloomsbury square, w.c. may , ._ my dear sir,--when i thanked you for your little pamphlet[ ] the other day, i had not read it. i have since done so with great interest. its leading idea is, i think, undoubtedly true, and of much importance towards an interpretation of the facts. though i think that there are some purely physical modifications that may be shown to result from the direct influence of civilisation, yet i think it is quite clear, as you point out, that the small amounts of physical differences that have arisen between the various human races are due to the way in which mental modifications have served in place of physical ones. i hope you will pursue the inquiry. it is one in which i have a direct interest, since i hope, hereafter, to make use of its results.--sincerely yours, herbert spencer * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street. may , [ ]._ my dear sir,--i have been reading with great interest your paper on the origin of the races of man, in which i think the question between the two opposite parties is put with such admirable clearness and fairness that that alone is no small assistance towards clearing the way to a true theory. the manner in which you have given darwin the whole credit of the theory of natural selection is very handsome, but if anyone else had done it without allusion to your papers it would have been wrong.... with many thanks for your most admirable paper, believe me, my dear sir, ever very truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street. march , ._ dear mr. wallace,--i am citing your two papers in my second volume of the new edition of the "principles"--that on the physical geography of the malay archipelago, , and the other on varieties of man in ditto, . i am somewhat confounded with the marked line which you draw between the two provinces on each side of the straits of lombok. it seems to me that darwin and hooker have scarcely given sufficient weight to the objection which it affords to some of their arguments. first, in regard to continental extension, if these straits could form such a barrier, it would seem as if nothing short of a land communication could do much towards fusing together two distinct faunas and floras. but here comes the question--are there any land-quadrupeds in bali or in lombok? i think you told me little was known of the plants, but perhaps you know something of the insects. it is impossible that birds of long flight crossing over should not have conveyed the seeds and eggs of some plants, insects, mollusca, etc. then the currents would not be idle, and during such an eruption as that of tomboro in sumbawa all sorts of disturbances, aerial, aquatic and terrestrial, would have scattered animals and plants. when i first wrote, thirty-five years ago, i attached great importance to preoccupancy, and fancied that a body of indigenous plants already fitted for every available station would prevent an invader, especially from, a quite foreign province, from having a chance of making good his settlement in a new country. but darwin and hooker contend that continental species which have been improved by a keen and wide competition are most frequently victorious over an insular or more limited flora and fauna. looking, therefore, upon bali as an outpost of the great old world fauna, it ought to beat lombok, which only represents a less rich and extensive fauna, namely the australian. you may perhaps answer that lombok is an outpost of an army that may once have been as multitudinous as that of the old continent, but the larger part of the host have been swamped in the pacific. but they say that european forms of animals and plants run wild in australia and new zealand, whereas few of the latter can do the same in europe. in my map there is a small island called nousabali; this ought to make the means of migration of seeds and animals less difficult. i cannot find that you say anywhere what is the depth of the sea between the straits of lombok, but you mention that it exceeds fathoms. i am quite willing to infer that there is a connection between these soundings and the line of demarcation between the two zoological provinces, but must we suppose land communication for all birds of short flight? must we unite south america with the galapagos islands? can you refer me to any papers by yourself which might enlighten me and perhaps answer some of these queries? i should have thought that the intercourse even of savage tribes for tens of thousands of years between neighbouring islands would have helped to convey in canoes many animals and plants from one province to another so as to help to confound them. your hypothesis of the gradual advance of two widely separated continents towards each other seems to be the best that can be offered. you say that a rise of a hundred fathoms would unite the philippine islands and bali to the indian region. is there, then, a depth of feet in that narrow strait of bali, which seems in my map only two miles or so in breadth? i have [been] confined to the house for a week by a cold or i should have tried to see you. i am afraid to go out to-day.--believe me ever most truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street. april , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i have been reading over again your paper published in in the _annals_ on "the law which has regulated the introduction of new species"; passages of which i intend to quote, not in reference to your priority of publication, but simply because there are some points laid down more clearly than i can find in the work of darwin itself, in regard to the bearing of the geological and zoological evidence on geographical distribution and the origin of species. i have been looking into darwin's historical sketch thinking to find some allusion to your essay at page xx., th ed., when he gets to , but i can find no allusion to it. yet surely i remember somewhere a passage in which darwin says in print that you had told him that in you meant by such expressions as "species being created on the type of pre-existing ones closely allied," and by what you say of modified prototypes, and by the passage in which you ask "what rudimentary organs mean if each species has been created independently," etc., that new species were created by variation and in the way of ordinary generation. your last letter was a great help to me, for it was a relief to find that the lombok barrier was not so complete as to be a source of difficulty. i have also to thank you for your papers, one of which i had read before in the _natural history review_, but i am very glad of a separate copy. i am rather perplexed by darwin speculating on the possibility of new zealand having once been united with australia (p. , th ed.). the puzzle is greater than i can get over, even looking upon it as an oceanic island. why should there have been no mammalia, rodents and marsupials, or only one mouse? even if the glacial period was such that it was enveloped in a greenlandic winding-sheet, there would have been some antarctic animals? it cannot be modern, seeing the height of those alps. it may have been a set of separate smaller islands, an archipelago since united into fewer. no savages could have extirpated mammalia, besides we should have found them fossil in the same places with all those species of extinct dinornis which have come to light. perhaps you will say that the absence of mammalia in new caledonia is a corresponding fact. this reminds me of another difficulty. on the hypothesis of the coral islands being the last remnants of a submerged continent, ought they not to have in them a crowd of peculiar and endemic types, each rivalling st. helena, instead of which i believe they are very poor [in] peculiar genera. have they all got submerged for a short time during the ups and downs to which they have been subjected, tahiti and some others having been built up by volcanic action in the pliocene period? madeira and the canaries were islands in the upper miocene ocean, and may therefore well have peculiar endemic types of very old date, and destroyed elsewhere. i have just got in wollaston's "coleoptera atlantidum," and shall be glad to lend it you when i have read the introduction. he goes in for continental extension, which only costs him two catastrophes by which the union and disunion with the nearest mainland may readily be accomplished.... --believe me ever most truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street. may , ._ my dear sir,--i forgot to ask you last night about an ornithological point which i have been discussing with the duke of argyll. in chapter v. of his "reign of law" (which i should be happy to lend you, if you have time to look at it immediately) he treats of humming-birds, saying that gould has made out about species, every one of them very distinct from the other, and only one instance, in ecuadór, of a species which varies in its tail-feathers in such a way as to make it doubtful whether it ought to rank as a species, an opinion to which gould inclines, or only as a variety or incipient species, as the duke thinks. for the duke is willing to go so far towards the transmutation theory as to allow that different humming-birds may have had a common ancestral stock, provided it be admitted that a new and marked variety appears at once with the full distinctness of sex so remarkable in that genus. according to his notion, the new male variety and the female must both appear at once, and this new race or species must be regarded as an "extraordinary birth." my reason for troubling you is merely to learn, since you have studied the birds of south america, and i hope collected some humming-birds, whether gould is right in saying that there are so many hundred very distinct species without instances of marked varieties and transitional forms. if this be the case, would it not present us with an exception to the rule laid down by darwin and hooker that when a genus is largely represented in a continuous tract of land the species of that genus tend to vary? i have inquired of sclater and he tells me that he has a considerable distrust of gould's information on this point, but that he has not himself studied humming-birds. in regard to shells, i have always found that dealers have a positive prejudice against intermediate forms, and one of the most philosophical of them, now no more, once confessed to me that it was very much against his trade interest to give an honest opinion that certain varieties were not real species, or that certain forms, made distinct genera by some conchologists, ought not so to rank. nine-tenths of his customers, if told that it was not a good genus or good species, would say, "then i need not buy it." what they wanted was names, not things. of course there are genera in which the species are much better defined than in others, but you would explain this, as darwin and hooker do, by the greater length of time during which they have existed, or the greater activity of changes, organic and inorganic, which have taken place in the region inhabited by the generic or family type in question. the manufactory of new species has ceased, or nearly so, and in that case i suppose a variety is more likely to be one of the transitional links which has not yet been extinguished than the first step towards a new permanent race or allied species.... your last letter will be of great use to me. i had cited the case of beetles recovering from immersion of hours in alcohol from my own experience, but am glad it strikes you in the same light. mcandrew told me last night that the littoral shells of the azores being european, or rather african, is in favour of a former continental extension, but i suspect that the floating of seaweed containing their eggs may dispense with the hypothesis of the submersion of , miles of land once intervening. i want naturalists carefully to examine floating seaweed and pumice met with at sea. tell your correspondents to look out. there should be a microscopic examination of both these means of transport.--believe me ever truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street. july , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i was very glad, though i take in the _westminster review_, to have a duplicate of your most entertaining and instructive essay on mimicry of colours, etc., which i have been reading with great delight, and i may say that both copies are in full use here. i think it is admirably written and most persuasive.--believe me ever most truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * to herbert spencer _hurstpierpoint, sussex. october , ._ my dear mr. spencer,--after leaving you yesterday i thought a little over your objections to the duke of argyll's theory of flight on the ground that it does not apply to insects, and it seems to me that exactly the same general principles do apply to insects as to birds. i read over the duke's book without paying special attention to that part of it, but as far as i remember, the case of insects offers no difficulty in the way of applying his principles. if any wing were a rigid plane surface, it appears to me that there are only two ways in which it could be made to produce flight. firstly, on the principle that the resistance in a fluid, and i believe also in air, increases in a greater ratio than the velocity (? as the square), the descending stroke might be more rapid than the ascending one, and the resultant would be an upward or forward motion. secondly, some kind of furling or feathering by a rotatory motion of the wing might take place on raising the wings. i think, however, it is clear that neither of these actions occurs during the flight of insects. in both slow- and quick-flying species there is no appearance of such a difference of velocity, and i am not aware that anyone has attempted to prove that it occurs; and the fact that in so many insects the edges of the fore and hind wings are connected together, while their insertions at the base are at some distance apart, _entirely precludes a rotation of the wings_. the whole structure and form of the wings of insects, moreover, indicate an action in flight quite analogous to that of birds. i believe that a careful examination will show that the wings of almost all insects are slightly concave beneath. further, they are all constructed with a strong and rigid anterior margin, while the outer and hinder margins are exceedingly thin and flexible. yet further, i feel confident (and a friend here agrees with me) that they are much more rigid against _upward_ than against _downward_ pressure. now in most insects (take a butterfly as an example) the body is weighted behind the insertion of the wings by the long and heavy abdomen, so as to produce an oblique position when freely suspended. there is also much more wing surface behind than before the fulcrum. now if such an insect produces by muscular action a regular flapping of the wings, flight must result. at the downward stroke the pressure of the air against the hind wings would raise them all to a nearly horizontal position, and at the same time bend up their posterior margins a little, producing an upward and onward motion. at the upward stroke the pressure on the hind wings would depress them considerably into an oblique position, and from their great flexibility in that direction would bend down their hind margins. the resultant would be a slightly downward and considerably onward motion, the two strokes producing that undulating flight so characteristic of butterflies, and so especially observable in the broad-winged tropical species. now all this is quite conformable to the action of a bird's wing. the rigid anterior margin, the slender and flexible hind margin; the greater resistance to upward than to downward pressure, and the slight concavity of the under surface, are all characters common to the wings of birds and most insects, and, considering the totally different structure and homologies of the two, i think there is at least an _a priori_ case for the function they both subserve being dependent upon these peculiarities. if i remember rightly, it is on these principles that the duke of argyll has explained the flight of birds, in which, however, there are of course some specialities depending on the more perfect organisation of the wing, its greater mobility and flexibility, its capacity for enlargement and contraction, and the peculiar construction and arrangement of the feathers. these, however, are matters of detail; and there are no doubt many and important differences of detail in the mode of flight of the different types of insects which would require a special study of each. it appeared to me that the duke of argyll had given that special study to the flight of birds, and deserved praise for having done so successfully, although he may not have quite solved the whole problem, or have stated quite accurately the comparative importance of the various causes that combine to effect flight. --believe me yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _ queen's gardens, bayswater, w. december , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i did not answer your last letter, being busy in getting out my second edition of "first principles." i was quite aware of the alleged additional cause of flight which you name, and do not doubt that it is an aid. but i regard it simply as an aid. if you will move an outstretched wing backwards and forwards with equal velocity, i think you will find that the difference of resistance is nothing like commensurate with the difference in size between the muscles that raise the wings and the muscles that depress them. it seems to me quite out of the question that the principles of flight are fundamentally different in a bat and a bird, which they must be if the duke of argyll's interpretation is correct. i write, however, not so much to reply to your argument as to correct a misapprehension which my expressions seem to have given you. the objections are not made by tyndall or huxley; but they are objections made by me, which i stated to them, and in which they agreed--tyndall expressing the opinion that i ought to make them public. i name this because you may otherwise some day startle tyndall or huxley by speaking to them of _their_ objections, and giving me as the authority for so affiliating them.--very truly yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street, london, w. november, ._ dear wallace,--you probably remember an article by agassiz in an american periodical, the _christian observer_, on the diversity of human races, etc., to prove that each distinct race was originally created for each zoological and botanical province. but while he makes out a good case for the circumscription of the principal races to distinct provinces, he evades in a singular manner the community of the red indian race to north and south america. he takes pains to show that the same american race pervades north and south america, or at least all america south of the arctic region. this was dr. morton's opinion, and is, i suppose, not to be gainsaid. in other words, while the papuan, indo-malayan, negro and other races are strictly limited each of them to a particular region of mammalia, the red indian type is common to sclater's neo-arctic and neo-tropical regions. have you ever considered the explanation of this fact on darwinian principles? if there were not barbarous tribes like the fuegians, one might imagine america to have been peopled when mankind was somewhat more advanced and more capable of diffusing itself over an entire continent. but i cannot well understand why isolation such as accompanies a very low state of social progress did not cause the neo-tropical and neo-arctic regions to produce by varieties and natural selection two very different human races. may it be owing to the smaller lapse of time, which time, nevertheless, was sufficient to allow of the spread of the representatives of one and the same type from canada to cape horn? have you ever touched on this subject, or can you refer me to anyone who has?--believe me ever most truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * to sir c. lyell . dear sir charles,--why the colour of man is sometimes constant over large areas while in other cases it varies, we cannot certainly tell; but we may well suppose it to be due to its being more or less correlated with constitutional characters favourable to life. by far the most common colour of man is a warm brown, not very different from that of the american indian. white and black are alike deviations from this, and are probably correlated with mental and physical peculiarities which have been favourable to the increase and maintenance of the particular race. i shall infer, therefore, that the brown or red was the original colour of man, and that it maintains itself throughout all climates in america because accidental deviations from it have not been accompanied by any useful constitutional peculiarities. it is bates's opinion that the indians are recent immigrants into the tropical plains of south america, and are not yet fully acclimatised.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _ harley street. march , ._ dear wallace,-- ...i am reading your new book,[ ] of which you kindly sent me a copy, with very great pleasure. nothing equal to it has come out since darwin's "voyage of the _beagle_." ... the history of the mias is very well done. i am not yet through the first volume, but my wife is deep in the second and much taken with it. it is so rare to be able to depend on the scientific knowledge and accuracy of those who have so much of the wonderful to relate....--believe me ever most truly yours, cha. lyell. * * * * * canon kingsley to a.r. wallace _eversley rectory, winchfield. may , ._ my dear sir,--i am reading--or rather have all but read--your new book,[ ] with a delight which i cannot find words to express save those which are commonplace superlatives. let me felicitate you on having, at last, added to the knowledge of our planet a chapter which has not its equal (as far as i can recollect) since our friend darwin's "voyage of the _beagle_." let me, too, compliment you on the modesty and generosity which you have shown, in dedicating your book to darwin, and speaking of him and his work as you have done. would that a like unselfish chivalry were more common--i do not say amongst scientific men, for they have it in great abundance, but--in the rest of the community. may i ask--as a very great favour--to be allowed to call on you some day in london, and to see your insects? i and my daughter are soon, i hope, going to the west indies, for plants and insects, among other things; and the young lady might learn much of typical forms from one glance at your treasures. i send this letter by our friend bates--being ignorant of your address.--believe me, my dear sir, ever yours faithfully, c. kingsley. * * * * * to miss a. buckley[ ] _holly house, barking, e. february , ._ dear miss buckley,--i have read darwin's first volume,[ ] and like it very much. it is overwhelming as proving the origin of man from some lower form, but that, i rather think, hardly anyone doubts now. he is very weak, as yet, on my objection about the "hair," but promises a better solution in the second volume. have you seen mivart's book, "genesis of species"? it is exceedingly clever, and well worth reading. the arguments against natural selection as the exclusive mode of development are some of them exceedingly strong, and very well put, and it is altogether a most readable and interesting book. though he uses some weak and bad arguments, and underrates the power of natural selection, yet i think i agree with his conclusion in the main, and am inclined to think it is more philosophical than my own. it is a book that i think will please sir charles lyell.--believe me, yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss a. buckley _holly house, barking, e. march , ._ dear miss buckley,--thanks for your note. i am hard at work criticising darwin. i admire his moral sense chapter as much as anything in the book. it is both original and the most satisfactory of all the theories, if not quite satisfactory....--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--darwin's book on the whole is wonderful! there are plenty of points open to criticism, but it is a marvellous contribution to the history of the development of the forms of life. * * * * * sir c. lyell to a.r. wallace _february , ._ dear wallace,--i have read the preface,[ ] and like and approve of it much. i do not believe there is a word which darwin would wish altered. it is high time this modest assertion of your claims as an independent originator of natural selection should be published.--ever most truly, cha. lyell. * * * * * sir j. hooker to a.r. wallace _royal gardens, kew. august , ._ my dear wallace,--i think you have made an immense advance to our knowledge of the ways and means of distribution, and bridged many great gaps.[ ] your reasoning seems to me to be sound throughout, though i am not prepared to receive it in all its details. i am disposed to regard the western australian flora as the latest in point of origin, and i hope to prove it by development, and by the absence of various types. if western australia ever had an old flora, i am inclined to suppose that it has been destroyed by the invasion of eastern types after the union with east australia. my idea is that these types worked round by the south, and altered rapidly as they proceeded westward, increasing in species. nor can i conceive the western island, when surrounded by sea, harbouring a flora like its present one. i have been disposed to regard new caledonia and the new hebrides as the parent country of many new zealand and australian forms of vegetation, but we do not know enough of the vegetation of the former to warrant the conclusion; and after all it would be but a slight modification of your views. i very much like your whole working of the problem of the isolation and connection of new zealand and australia _inter se_ and with the countries north of them, and the whole treatment of that respecting north and south migration over the globe is admirable....--ever most truly yours, j.d. hooker. * * * * * sir j. hooker to a.r. wallace _royal gardens, kew. november , ._ dear mr. wallace,--i have been waiting to thank you for "island life" till i should have read it through as carefully as i am digesting the chapters i have finished; but i can delay no longer, if only to say that i heartily enjoy it, and believe that you have brushed away more cobwebs that have obscured the subject than any other, besides giving a vast deal that is new, and admirably setting forth what is old, so as to throw new light on the whole subject. it is, in short, a first-rate book. i am making notes for you, but hitherto have seen no defect of importance except in the matter of the bahamas, whose flora is floridan, not cuban, in so far as we know it....--very truly yours, jos. d. hooker. * * * * * to sir w. thiselton-dyer _pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon. january , ._ dear mr. thiselton-dyer,--if i had had your lecture before me when writing the last chapters of my book i should certainly have quoted you in support of the view of the northern origin of the southern flora by migration along existing continents. on reading it again i am surprised to find how often you refer to this; but when i read it on its first appearance i did not pay special attention to this point except to note that your views agreed more closely with those i had advanced, derived from the distribution of animals, than those of any previous writer on botanical distribution. when, at a much later period, on coming to the end of my work, i determined to give a chapter to the new zealand flora in order to see how far the geological and physical relations between new zealand and australia would throw light on its origin, i went for my facts to the works of sir joseph hooker and mr. bentham, and also to your article in the "encyclopædia britannica," and worked out my conclusions solely from these, and from the few facts referring to the migration of plants which i had collected. had i referred again to your lecture i should certainly have quoted the cases you give (in a note, p. ) of plants extending along the andes from california to peru and chile, and vice versa. whatever identity there is in our views was therefore arrived at independently, and it was an oversight on my part not referring to your views, partly due to your not having made them a more prominent feature of your very interesting and instructive lecture. working as i do at home, i am obliged to get my facts from the few books i can get together; and i only attempted to deal with these great botanical questions because the facts seemed sufficiently broad and definite not to be much affected by errors of detail or recent additions to our knowledge, and because the view which i took of the past changes in australia and new zealand seemed calculated to throw so much light upon them. without such splendid summaries of the relations of the southern floras as are given in sir j. hooker's introductions, i should not have touched the subject at all; and i venture to hope that you or some of your colleagues will give us other such summaries, brought down to the present date, of other important floras--as, for example, those of south africa and south temperate america. many thanks for additional peculiar british plants. when i hear what mr. mitten has to say about the mosses, etc., i should like to send a corrected list to _nature_, which i shall ask you to be so good as to give a final look over.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--mr. darwin strongly objects to my view of the migration of plants along mountain-ranges, rather than along lowlands during cold periods. this latter view seems to me as difficult and inadequate as mine does to him.--a.r.w. * * * * * wallace was in frequent correspondence with professor raphael meldola, the eminent chemist, a friend both of darwin and of wallace, a student of evolution, and a stout defender of darwinism. i received from him much help and advice in connection with this work, and had he lived until its completion--he died, suddenly, in --my indebtedness to him would have been even greater. the following letter to meldola refers to a suggestion that the white colour of the undersides of animals might have been developed by selection through the _physical_ advantage gained from the protection of the vital parts by a _lighter_ colour and therefore by a surface of less radiative activity. the idea was that there would be less loss of animal heat through such a white coating. we were at that time unaware of thayer's demonstration of the value of such colouring for the purposes of concealment among environment. wallace accepted thayer's view at once when it was subsequently put forward; as do most naturalists at the present time. to prof. meldola _frith hill, godalming. april , ._ my dear meldola,--your letter in _nature_ last week "riz my dander," as the yankees say, and, for once in a way, we find ourselves deadly enemies prepared for mortal combat, armed with steel (pens) and prepared to shed any amount of our own--ink. consequently i rushed into the fray with a letter to _nature_ intended to show that you are as wrong (as wicked) as are the russians in afghanistan. having, however, the most perfect confidence that the battle will soon be over,... --yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the following letter refers to the theory of physiological selection which had recently been propounded by romanes, and which prof. meldola had criticised in _nature_, xxxix. . to prof. meldola _frith hill, godalming. august , ._ my dear meldola,--i have just read your reply to romanes in _nature_, and so far as your view goes i agree, but it does not go far enough. professor newton has called my attention to a passage in belt's "nicaragua," pp. - , in which he puts forth very clearly exactly your view. i find i had noted the explanation as insufficient, and i hear that in darwin's copy there is "no! no!" against it. it seems, however, to me to summarise _all_ that is of the slightest value in romanes' wordy paper. i have asked newton (to whom i had lent it) to forward to you at birmingham a proof of my paper in the _fortnightly_, and i shall be much obliged if you will read it carefully, and, if you can, "hold a brief" for me at the british association in this matter. you will see that a considerable part of my paper is devoted to a demonstration of the fallacy of that part of "romanes" which declares species to be distinguished generally by useless characters, and also that "simultaneous variations" do not usually occur. on the question of sterility, which, as you well observe, is the core of the question, i think i show that it could not work in the way romanes puts it. the objection to belt's and your view is, also, that it would not work unless the "sterility variation" was correlated with the "useful variation." you assume, i think, this correlation, when you speak of two of your varieties, b. and k., being _less fertile with the parent form_. without correlation they could not be so, only some few of them. romanes always speaks of his physiological variations as being independent, "primary," in which case, as i show, they could hardly ever survive. at the end of my paper i show a correlation which is probably general and sufficient. in criticising romanes, however, at the british association, i want to call your special attention to a point i have hardly made clear enough in my paper. romanes always speaks of the "physiological variety" as if it were like any other _simple_ variety, and could as easily (he says more easily) be increased. whereas it is really complex, requiring a remarkable correlation between different sets of individuals which he never recognises. to illustrate what i mean, let me suppose a case. let there occur in a species three individual physiological varieties--a, b and c--each being infertile with the bulk of the species, but quite fertile with some small part of it. let a, for example, be fertile with x, y and z. now i maintain it to be in the highest degree improbable that b, a quite distinct individual, with distinct parents originating in a distinct locality, and perhaps with a very different constitution, merely because it also is sterile with the bulk of the species, should be fertile with the very same individuals, x, y, z, that a is fertile with. it seems to me to be at least to that it will be fertile with some other quite distinct set of individuals. and so with c, and any other similar variety. i express this by saying that each has its "sexual complements," and that the complements of the one are almost sure not to be the complements of the other. hence it follows that a, b, c, though differing in the same character of general infertility with the bulk of the species, will really be three distinct varieties physiologically, and can in no way unite to form a single physiological variety. this enormous difficulty romanes apparently never sees, but argues as if all individuals that are infertile with the bulk of the species must be or usually are fertile with the same set of individuals or with each other. this i call a monstrous assumption, for which not a particle of evidence exists. take this in conjunction with my argument from the severity of the struggle for existence and the extreme improbability of the respective "sexual complements" coming together at the right time, and i think romanes' ponderous paper is disposed of. i wrote my paper, however, quite as much to expose the great presumption and ignorance of romanes in declaring that natural selection is _not_ a theory of the origin of species--as it is calculated to do much harm. see, for instance, the way the duke of argyll jumped at it like a trout at a fly!--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the earlier part of the next letter refers to "the experimental proof of the protective value of colour and markings in insects in reference to their vertebrate enemies," in the _proceedings of the zoological society of london_, , p. . to prof. poulton _frith hill, godalming. october , ._ my dear poulton,--it is very interesting to me to see how very generally the facts are in accordance with theory, and i am only surprised that the exceptions and irregularities are not more numerous than they are found to be. the only difficult case, that of _d. euphorbiæ_, is due probably to incomplete knowledge. are lizards and sea-birds the only, or even the chief, possible enemies of the species? they evidently do not prevent its coming to maturity in considerable abundance, and it is therefore no doubt preserved from its chief enemies during its various stages of growth. the only point on which i differ from you--as you know--is your acceptance, as proved, of the theory of sexual colour selection, and your speaking of insects as having a sense of "the beautiful" in colour, as if that were a known fact. but that is a wide question, requiring full discussion.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to sir francis darwin _frith hill, godalming. november , ._ dear mr. darwin,--many thanks for the copy of your father's "life and letters," which i shall read with very great interest (as will all the world). i was not aware before that your father had been so distressed--or rather disturbed--by my sending him my essay from ternate, and i am very glad to feel that his exaggerated sense of honour was quite needless so far as i was concerned, and that the incident did not in any way disturb our friendly relations. i always felt, and feel still, that people generally give me far too much credit for my mere sketch of the theory--so very small an affair as compared with the vast foundation of fact and experiment on which your father worked.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mrs. fisher (_née_ buckley) _frith hill, godalming. february , ._ my dear mrs. fisher,--i know nothing of the physiology of ferns and mosses, but as a matter of fact i think they will be found to increase and diminish together all over the world. both like moist, equable climates and shade, and are therefore both so abundant in oceanic islands, and in the high regions of the tropics. i am inclined to think that the reason ferns have persisted so long in competition with flowering plants is the fact that they thrive best in shade, flowers best in the light. in our woods and ravines the flowers are mostly spring flowers, which die away just as the foliage of the trees is coming out and the shade deepens; while ferns are often dormant at that time, but grow as the shade increases. why tree-ferns should not grow in cold countries i know not, except that it may be the winds are too violent and would tear all the fronds off before the spores were ripe. everywhere they grow in ravines, or in forests where they are sheltered, even in the tropics. and they are not generally abundant, but grow in particular zones only. in all the amazon valley i don't remember ever having seen a tree-fern.... i too am struggling with my "popular sketch of darwinism," and am just now doing a chapter on the great "hybridity" question. i really think i shall be able to arrange the whole subject more intelligibly than darwin did, and simplify it immensely by leaving out the endless discussion of collateral details and difficulties which in the "origin of species" confuse the main issue.... the most remarkable steps yet made in advance are, i think, the theory of weismann of the continuity of the germ plasm, and its corollary that acquired modifications are never inherited! and patrick geddes's explanation of the laws of growth in plants on the theory of the antagonism of vegetative and reproductive growth....--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. meldola _frith hill, godalming. march , ._ my dear meldola,--i have been working away at my hybridity chapters,[ ] and am almost disposed to cry "eureka!" for i have got light on the problem. when almost in despair of making it clear that natural selection could act one way or the other, i luckily routed out an old paper that i wrote twenty years ago, giving a demonstration of the action of natural selection. it did not convince darwin then, but it has convinced me now, and i think it can be proved that in some cases (and those i think most probable) natural selection will accumulate variations in infertility between incipient species. many other causes of infertility co-operate, and i really think i have overcome the fundamental difficulties of the question and made it a good deal clearer than darwin left it.... i think also it completely smashes up romanes.--yours faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the next letter relates to a question which prof. meldola raised as to whether, in view of the extreme importance of "divergence" (in the darwinian sense) for the separation and maintenance of specific types, it might not be possible that sterility, when of advantage as a check to crossing, had in itself, as a physiological character, been brought about by natural selection, just as extreme fecundity had been brought about (by natural selection) in cases where such fecundity was of advantage. to prof. meldola _frith hill, godalming. april , ._ my dear meldola,--many thanks for your criticism. it is a perfectly sound one as against my view being a _complete explanation_ of the phenomena, but that i do not claim. and i do not see any chance of the required facts being forthcoming for many years to come. experiments in the hybridisation of animals are so difficult and tedious that even darwin never undertook any, and the only people who could and ought to have done it--the zoological society--will not. there is one point, however, i think you have overlooked. you urge the improbability of the required infertility being correlated with the particular variations which characterised each incipient species. but the whole point of my argument is, that the physiological adjustments producing fertility are so delicate that they are disturbed by almost any variation or change of conditions--except in the case of domestic animals, which have been domesticated because they are not subject to this disturbance. the whole first half of the chapter is to bring out this fact, which darwin has dwelt upon, and it certainly does afford a foundation for the assumption that usually, and in some considerable number of individuals, variation in nature, accompanied by somewhat changed conditions of life, is accompanied by, and probably correlated with, some amount of infertility. no doubt this assumption wants proving, but in the meantime i am glad you think that, granting the assumption, i have shown that natural selection is able to accumulate sterility variations. that is certainly a step in advance, and we cannot expect to do more than take very short theoretical steps till we get more facts to rest upon. if you should happen to come across any facts which seem to bear upon it, pray let me know. i can find none but those i have referred to. i have just finished a chapter on male ornament and display, which i trust will help to clear up that point--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. w.b. hemsley _frith hill, godalming. august , ._ dear mr. hemsley,--you are aware that patrick geddes proposes to exclude natural selection in the origination of thorns and spines, which he imputes to "diminishing vegetativeness" or "ebbing vitality of the species." it has occurred to me that insular floras should afford a test of the correctness of this view, since in the absence of mammalia the protection of spines would be less needed. your study of these floras will no doubt enable you to answer a few questions on this point. spines and thorns are, i believe, usually abundant in arid regions of continents, especially in south africa, where large herbivorous mammals abound. now, if the long-continued presence of these mammals is a factor in the production of spines by natural selection, they should be wholly or comparatively absent in regions equally arid where there are no mammals. the galapagos seem to be such a case--also perhaps some of the sandwich islands, and generally the extra-tropical volcanic islands. also australia comparatively, and the highlands of madagascar. of course, the endemic species must be chiefly considered, as they have had time to be modified by the conditions. if you can give me the facts, or your general impression from your study of these floras, i shall be much obliged. i see, of course, many other objections to geddes's theory, but this seems to offer a crucial test.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. w.b. hemsley _frith hill, godalming. september , ._ dear mr. hemsley,--many thanks for your interesting letter. the facts you state seem quite to support the usual view, that thorns and spines have been developed as a protection against other animals. the few spiny plants in new zealand may be for protection against land molluscs, of which there are several species as large as any in the tropics. of course in australia we should expect only a comparative scarcity of spines, as there are many herbivorous marsupials in the country.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the next and several of the succeeding letters refer to the translations of weismann's "essays upon heredity and kindred biological problems" (oxford, ), and to "darwinism" (london, ). to prof. poulton _frith hill, godalming. november , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--i returned you the two first of weismann's essays, with a few notes and corrections in pencil on that on "duration of life." looking over some old papers, i have just come across a short sketch on two pages, on "the action of natural selection in producing old age, decay and death," written over twenty years ago.[ ] i had the same general idea as weismann, but not that beautiful suggestion of the duration of life, in each case, being the _minimum_ necessary for the preservation of the species. _that_ i think masterly. the paper on "heredity" is intensely interesting, and i am waiting anxiously for the concluding part. i will refer to these papers in notes in my book, though perhaps yours will be out first....--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _frith hill, godalming. november , ._ dear mr. poulton,--i return herewith (but separately) the "proofs" i have of weismann's essays. the last critical one is rather heavy, and adds nothing of importance to the earlier one on duration of life. i enclose my "note" on the subject, which was written, i think, about , certainly before . you will see it was only a few ideas jotted down for further elaboration and then forgotten. i see however it _does_ contain the germ of weismann's argument as to duration of life being determined by the time of securing continuance of the species.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _frith hall, godalming. january , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--my attention has been called by mr. herdman, in his inaugural address to the liverpool biological society, to galton's paper on "heredity," which i read years ago but had forgotten. i have just read it again (in the _journal of the anthropological institute_, vol. v., p. , jan., ), and i find a remarkable anticipation of weismann's theories which i think should be noticed in a preface to the translation of his book.[ ] he argues that it is the undeveloped germs or gemmules of the fertilised ovum that form the sexual elements of the offspring, and thus heredity and atavism are explained. he also argues that, as a corollary, "acquired modifications are barely if at all inherited in the correct sense of the word." he shows the imperfection of the evidence on this point, and admits, just as weismann does, the heredity of changes in the parent like alcoholism, which, by permeating the whole tissues, may _directly_ affect the reproductive elements. in fact, all the main features of weismann's views seem to be here anticipated, and i think he ought to have the credit of it. being no physiologist, his language is not technical, and for this reason, and the place of publication perhaps, his remarkable paper appears to have been overlooked by physiologists. i think you will find the paper very suggestive, even supplying some points overlooked by weismann.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _hamilton house, the croft, hastings. february , ._ dear mr. poulton,--do you happen to have, or can you easily refer to, grant allen's small books of collected papers under such titles as "vignettes from nature," "the evolutionist at large," "colin clout's calendar," and another i can't remember? in one of them is a paper on the origin of wheat, in which he puts forth the theory that the grasses, etc., are degraded forms which were once insect-fertilised, summing up his views in the phrase, "wheat is a degraded lily," or something like that. now henslow, in his "floral structures,"[ ] adopts the same theory for all the wind-fertilised or self-fertilised flowers, and he tells me that he is _alone_ in the view. i believe the view is a true one, and i want to give g. allen the credit of first starting it, and want to see how far he went. if you have or can get this work of his with that paper, can you lend it me for a few days? i know not who to write to for it, as botanists of course ignore it, and g. allen himself is, i believe, in algeria....--yours faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _ queen's gardens, lancaster gate, w. may , ._ dear mr. wallace,--a few days ago there reached me a copy of your new book, "darwinism," for which, along with this acknowledgment, i send my thanks. in my present state of health i dare not read, and fear i shall be unable to profit by the accumulation of evidence you have brought together. i see sundry points on which i might raise discussions, but beyond the fact that i am at present unable to enter into them, i doubt whether they would be of any use. i regret that you have used the title "darwinism," for notwithstanding your qualification of its meaning you will, by using it, tend greatly to confirm the erroneous conception almost universally current.--truly yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. november , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--i have much pleasure in sending you cope's book[ ] (with the review of "darwinism"), which i hope you will keep as long as you like, till you have mastered all its obscurities of style and eccentricities of argument. i think you will find a good deal in it to criticise, and it will be well for you to know what the leader of the neo-lamarckians regards as the foundation-stones of his theory. i greatly enjoyed my visit to oxford, and only regretted that i could not leave more time for personal talk with yourself, for i am so deplorably ignorant of modern physiology that i am delighted to get intelligible explanations of its bearings on the subjects that most interest me in science. i quite see all its importance in investigations of the mechanism of colours, but there is so much still unknown that it will be very hard to convince me that there is no other possible explanation of the peacock's feather than the "continued preference by the females" for the most beautiful males, in _this one point_, "during a long line of descent"--as darwin says! i expect, however, great light from your new book....--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * sir francis galton to a.r. wallace _ rutland gate, s.w. may , ._ dear mr. wallace,--i send the paper with pleasure, and am glad that you will read it, and i hope then see more clearly than the abstract could show the grounds of my argument. these finger-marks are most remarkable things. of course i have made out much more about them since writing that memoir. indeed i have another paper on them next thursday at the royal society, but that only refers to ways of cataloguing them, either for criminal administration, or what i am more interested in, viz. racial and hereditary inquiry. what i have done in this way is not ready for publication, but i may mention (privately, please) that these persistent marks, which seem fully developed in the sixth month of foetal life, and appear under the reservations and in the evidence published in the memoir to be practically _quite_ unchanged during life, are _not_ correlated with any ordinary characteristic that i can discover. they are the same in the lowest idiots as in ordinary persons. (i took the impressions of some of these, so idiotic that they mostly could not speak, or even stand, at the great darenth asylum, dartford.) they are the same in clod-hoppers as in the upper classes, and _yet_ they are as hereditary as other qualities, i think. their tendency to symmetrical distribution on the two hands is _marked_, and symmetry _is_ a form of kinship. my argument is that sexual selection can have had nothing to do with the patterns, neither can any other form of selection due to vigour, wits, and so forth, because they are not correlated with them. they just go their own gait, uninfluenced by anything that we can find or reasonably believe in, of a _naturally selective influence_, in the plain meaning of the phrase.--very sincerely yours, francis galton. * * * * * to theo. d.a. cockerell _parkstone, dorset. march , ._ dear mr. cockerell,-- ... your theory to account for the influence of a first male on progeny by a second seems very probable--and in fact if, as i suppose, spermatozoa often enter ova without producing complete fertilisation, it must be so. _that_ would be easily experimented on, with fowls, dogs, etc., but i do not remember the fact having been observed except with horses. it ought to be common, when females have young by successive males.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * the next letter relates to a controversy with romanes concerning herbert spencer's argument about co-adaptation which romanes had urged in support of neo-lamarckism as opposed to natural selection. prof. meldola endeavoured to show that the difficulties raised by spencer and supported by romanes had no real weight because the possibility of so-called "co-adaptations" being developed _successively_ in the order of evolution had not been reckoned with. there was no real divergence between wallace and prof. meldola on this matter when they subsequently discussed it. the correspondence is in _nature_, xliii. , and subsequently. _see also_ "darwin and after darwin," by romanes, , ii. . to prof. meldola _parkstone, dorset, april , ._ my dear meldola,--you have now put your foot in it! romanes _agrees_ with you! henceforth he will claim you as a disciple, converted by his arguments! there was one admission in your letter i was very sorry to see, because it cannot be strictly true, and is besides open to much misrepresentation. i mean the admission that romanes pounces upon in his second paragraph. of course, the number of individuals in a species being finite, the chance of four coincident variations occurring in any one individual--each such variation being separately very common--cannot be anything like "infinity to one." why, then, do you concede it most fully?--the result being that romanes takes you to concede that it is infinity to one against the coincident variations occurring in "_any individuals_." surely, with the facts of coincident independent variation we now possess, the occurrence of three, four, or five, coincident variations cannot be otherwise than frequent. as a fact, more than half the whole population of most species seems to vary to a perceptible and measurable, and therefore sufficient, amount in scores of ways. take a species with a million pairs of individuals--half of these vary sufficiently, either + or -, in the four acquired characters a, b, c, d: what will be the proportion of individuals that vary + in these four characters according to the law of averages? will it not be about in ? if so it is ample--in many cases--for natural selection to work on, because in many cases less than / of offspring survives. on romanes' view of the impossibility of natural selection doing anything alone, because the required coincident variations do not occur, the occurrence of a "strong man" or a racehorse that beats all others easily must be impossible, since in each of these cases there must be scores of coincident favourable variations. given sufficient variation, i believe divergent modification of a species in two lines could easily occur, even if free intercrossing occurred, because, the numbers varying being a large proportion of the whole, the numbers which bred like with like would he sufficient to carry on the two lines of divergence, those that intercrossed and produced less perfectly adapted offspring being eliminated. of course some amount of segregate breeding does always occur, as darwin always maintained, but, as he also maintained, it is not absolutely essential to evolution. romanes argues as if "free intercrossing" meant that none would pair like with like! i hope you will have another slap at him, and withdraw or explain that unlucky "infinity to one," which is romanes' sheet-anchor.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. june , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--many thanks for sending me weismann's additional essays,[ ] which i look forward to reading with much pleasure. i have, however, read the first, and am much disappointed with it. it seems to me the _weakest and most inconclusive_ thing he has yet written. at p. he states his theory as to degeneration of eyes, and again, on p. , of anthers and filaments; but in both cases he fails to _prove_ it, and apparently does not see that his panmixia, or "cessation of selection," cannot possibly produce _continuous_ degeneration culminating in the total or almost total disappearance of an organ. romanes and others have pointed out this weakness in his theory, but he does not notice it, and goes on calmly throughout the essay to _assume_ that mere panmixia must cause progressive degeneration to an unlimited extent; whereas all it can do is to effect a reduction to the average of the total population on which selection has been previously worked. he says "individuals with weak eyes would not be eliminated," but omits to notice that individuals with strong eyes would also "not be eliminated," and as there is no reason alleged why variations in _all directions_ should not occur as before, the free intercrossing would tend to keep up a mean condition only a little below that which was kept up by selection. it is clear that some form of selection must always co-operate in degeneration, such as economy of growth, which he hardly notices except as a possible but not a necessary factor, or actual injuriousness. it appears to me that what is wanted is to take a number of typical cases, and in each of them show how natural selection comes in to carry on the degeneration begun by panmixia. weismann's treatment of the subject is merely begging the question.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. august , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--as to panmixia you have quite misunderstood my position. by the "mean condition," i do not mean the "mean" during the whole course of development of the organ, as you seem to take it. that would indeed be absurd. i do mean the "mean" of the whole series of individual variations now occurring, during a period sufficient to contain all or almost all the variations to which the species is _now_ subject. take, for instance, such a case as the wings of the swallow, on the full development of which the life of the bird depends. many individuals no doubt perish for lack of wing-power, due to deficiency in size or form of wing, or in the muscles which move it. the extreme limits of variation would be seen probably if we examined every swallow that had reached maturity during the last century. the average of all those would perhaps be or per cent. below the average of those that survive to become the parents of the next generation in any year; and what i maintain is, that panmixia alone could not reduce a swallow's wings below this first average. any further reduction must be due either to some form of selection or to "economy of growth"--which is also, fundamentally, a form of selection. so with the eyes of cave animals, panmixia could only cause an imperfection of vision equal to the average of those variations which occurred, say, during a century before the animal entered the cave. it could only produce more effect than this if the effects of disuse are hereditary--which is a non-weismannian doctrine. i think this is also the position that romanes took.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. j.w. marshall _parkstone, dorset. september , ._ my dear marshall,--i am glad you enjoyed mr. hudson's book. his observations are inimitable--and his theories and suggestions, if not always the best, at least show thought on what he has observed. i was most pleased with his demonstration as to the supposed instincts of young birds and lambs, showing clearly that the former at all events are not due to inherited experience, as darwin thought. the whole book, too, is pervaded by such a true love of nature and such a perception of its marvels and mysteries as to be unique in my experience. the modern scientific morphologists seem so wholly occupied in tracing out the mechanism of organisms that they hardly seem to appreciate the overwhelming marvel of the powers of life, which result in such infinitely varied structures and such strange habits and so-called instincts. the older i grow the more marvellous seem to me the mere variety of form and habit in plants and animals, and the unerring certitude with which from a minute germ the whole complex organism is built up, true to the type of its kind in all the infinitude of details! it is this which gives such a charm to the watching of plants growing, and of kittens so rapidly developing their senses and habitudes!...--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ my dear poulton,--thanks for the separate copy of your great paper on colours of larva, pupa, etc.[ ] i have read your conclusions and looked over some of the experiments, and think you have now pretty well settled that question. i am reading through the new volume of the life of darwin, and am struck with the curious example his own case affords of non-heredity of acquired variations. he expresses his constant dread--one of the troubles of his life--that his children would inherit his bad health. it seems pretty clear, from what f. darwin says in the new edition, that darwin's constant nervous stomach irritation was caused by his five years sea-sickness. it was thoroughly established before, and in the early years of, his marriage, and, on his own theory his children ought all to have inherited it. have they? you know perhaps better than i do, whether any of the family show any symptoms of that particular form of illness--and if not it is a fine case!--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * wallace was formally admitted to the royal society in june, . the postscript of the following letter refers to his cordial reception by the fellows. to prof. meldola _parkstone, dorset. june , ._ my dear meldola,--as we had no time to "discourse" on thursday, i will say a few words on the individual adaptability question. we have to deal with facts, and facts certainly show that, in many groups, there is a great amount of adaptable change produced in the individual by external conditions, and that that change is not inherited. i do not see that this places natural selection in any subordinate position, because this individual adaptability is evidently advantageous to many species, and may itself have been produced or increased by natural selection. when a species is subject to great changes of conditions, either locally or at uncertain times, it may be a decided advantage to it to become individually adapted to that change while retaining the power to revert instantly to its original form when the normal conditions return. but whenever the changed conditions are permanent, or are such that individual adaptation cannot meet the requirements, then natural selection rapidly brings about a permanent adaptation which is inherited. in plants these two forms of adaptation are well marked and easily tested, and we shall soon have a large body of evidence upon it. in the higher animals i imagine that individual adaptation is small in amount, as indicated by the fact that even slight varieties often breed true. in lepidoptera we have the two forms of colour-adaptability clearly shown. many species are, in all their stages, permanently adapted to their environment. others have a certain power of individual adaptation, as of the pupæ to their surroundings. if this last adaptation were strictly inherited it would be positively injurious, since the progeny would thereby lose the power of individual adaptability, and thus we should have light pupæ on dark surroundings, and vice versa. each kind of adaptation has its own sphere, and it is essential that the one should be non-inheritable, the other heritable. the whole thing seems to me quite harmonious and "as it should be." thiselton-dyer tells me that h. spencer is dreadfully disturbed on the question. he fears that acquired characters may not be inherited, in which case the foundation of his whole philosophy is undermined!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i am afraid you are partly responsible for that kindly meant but too personal manifestation which disturbed the solemnity of the royal society meeting on thursday!... * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. september , ._ my dear poulton,--i suppose you were not at nottingham and did not get the letter, paper, and photographs i sent you there, but to be opened by the secretary of section d in case you were not there. it was about a wonderful and perfectly authenticated case of a woman who dressed the arm of a gamekeeper after amputation, and six or seven months afterwards had a child born without the forearm on the right side, exactly corresponding in _form_ and _length_ of stump to that of the man. photographs of the man, and of the boy seven or eight years old, were taken _by the physician of the hospital_ where the man's arm was cut off, and they show a most striking correspondence. these, with my short paper, appear to have produced an effect, for a committee of section d has been appointed to collect evidence on this and other matters....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. november , ._ my dear poulton,--the letter i wrote to you at nottingham was returned to me here (after a month), so i did not think it worth while to send it to you again, though it did contain my congratulations on your appointment,[ ] which i now repeat. as you have not seen the paper i sent to the british association, i will just say that i should not have noticed the subject publicly but, after a friend had given me the photographs (sent with my paper), i came across the following statement in the new edition of chambers' encyclopædia, art. deformities (by prof. a. hare): "in an increasing proportion of cases which are carefully investigated, it appears that maternal impressions, the result of shock or unpleasant experiences, may have a considerable influence in producing deformities in the offspring." in consequence of this i sent the case which had been furnished me, and which is certainly about as well attested and conclusive as anything can be. the facts are these: a gamekeeper had his right forearm amputated at the north devon infirmary. he left before it was healed, thinking his wife could dress it, but as she was too nervous, a neighbour, a young recently married woman, a farmer's wife, still living, came and dressed it every day till it healed. about six months after she had a child born _without right hand and forearm_, the stump exactly corresponding in length to that of the gamekeeper. dr. richard budd, m.d., f.r.c.p.,[ ] of barnstaple, the physician to the infirmary, when the boy was five or six years old, himself took a photograph of the boy and the gamekeeper side by side, showing the wonderful correspondence of the two arms. i have these facts _direct from dr. budd_, who was personally cognisant of the whole circumstances. a few years after, in november, , dr. budd gave an account of the case and exhibited the photographs to a large meeting at the college of physicians, and i have no doubt it is _one_ of the cases referred to in the article i have quoted, though dr. budd thinks it has never been published. it will be at once admitted that this is not a chance coincidence, and that all theoretical difficulties must give way to such facts as this, ... of course it by no means follows that similar causes should in all cases produce similar effects, since the idiosyncrasy of the mother is no doubt an important factor; but where the combined coincidences are so numerous as in this case--_place, time, person_ and exact correspondence of _resulting deformity_--some causal relation must exist.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. part iii (_concluded_) iii.--correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc. [ -- ] * * * * * herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _queen's hotel, cliftonville, margate. august , ._ dear mr. wallace,--though we differ on some points we agree on many, and one of the points on which we doubtless agree is the absurdity of lord salisbury's representation of the process of natural selection based upon the improbability of two varying individuals meeting. his nonsensical representation of the theory ought to be exposed, for it will mislead very many people. i see it is adopted by the _pall mall_. i have been myself strongly prompted to take the matter up, but it is evidently your business to do that. pray write a letter to the _times_ explaining that selection or survival of the fittest does not necessarily take place in the way he describes. you might set out by remarking that whereas he begins by comparing himself to a volunteer colonel reviewing a regiment of regulars, he very quickly changes his attitude and becomes a colonel of regulars reviewing volunteers and making fun of their bunglings. he deserves a-severe castigation. there are other points on which his views should be rectified, but this is the essential point. it behoves you of all men to take up the gauntlet he has thrown down.--very truly yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _queen's hotel, cliftonville, margate, aug. , ._ dear mr. wallace,--i cannot at all agree with you respecting the relative importance of the work you are doing and that which i wanted you to do. various articles in the papers show that lord salisbury's argument is received with triumph, and, unless it is disposed of, it will lead to a public reaction against the doctrine of evolution at large, a far more serious evil than any error which you propose to rectify among biologists. everybody will look to you for a reply, and if you make no reply it will be understood that lord salisbury's objection is valid. as to the non-publication of your letter in the _times_, that is absurd, considering that your name and that of darwin are constantly coupled together.--truly yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. september , ._ my dear poulton,--i was glad to see your exposure of another american neo-lamarckian in _nature_.[ ] it is astonishing how utterly illogical they all are! i was much pleased with your point of the adaptations supposed to be produced by the inorganic environment when they are related to the organic. it is i think new and very forcible. for nearly a month i have been wading through bateson's book,[ ] and writing a criticism of it, and of galton, who backs him up with his idea of "organic stability." ... neither he nor galton appears to have any adequate conception of what natural selection is, or how impossible it is to escape from it. they seem to think that, given a stable variation, natural selection must hide its diminished head! bateson's preface, concluding reflections, etc., are often quite amusing.... he is so cocksure he has made a great discovery--which is the most palpable of mare's nests.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i allude of course to his grand argument--"environment _continuous_--species _discontinuous_--therefore _variations_ which produce species must be also _discontinuous_"! (bateson--q.e.d.). * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ my dear poulton,--i have read your paper on "theories of evolution"[ ] with great pleasure. it is very clear and very forcible, and i should think must have opened the eyes of some of your hearers. your cases against lamarckism were very strong, and i think quite conclusive. there is one, however, which seems to me weak--that about the claws of lobsters and the tails of lizards moving and acting when detached from the body. it may be argued, fairly, that this is only an incidental result of the extreme muscular irritability and contractibility of the organs, which might have been caused on lamarckian as well as on the darwinian hypothesis. the running of a fowl after its head is chopped off is an example of the same kind of thing, and this is certainly not useful. the detachment itself of claw and tail is no doubt useful and adaptive. when discussing the objection as to failures not being found fossil, there are two additional arguments to those you adduce: ( ) every failure has been, first, a success, or it could not have come into existence (as a species); and ( ) the hosts of huge and very specialised animals everywhere recently extinct are clearly failures. they were successes as long as the struggle was with animal competitors only, physical conditions being highly favourable. but, when physical conditions became adverse, as by drought, cold, etc., they failed and became extinct. the entrance of new enemies from another area might equally render them failures. as to your question about myself and darwin, i had met him once only for a few minutes at the british museum before i went to the east.... --yours very faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. clement reid _parkstone, dorset. november , ._ my dear clement reid,-- ... the great, the grand, and long-expected, the prophesied discovery has at last been made--miocene or old pliocene man in india!!! good worked flints found _in situ_ by the palæontologist to the geological survey of india! it is in a ferruginous conglomerate lying beneath , feet of pliocene strata and containing hippotherium, etc. but perhaps you have seen the article in _natural science_ describing it, by rupert jones, who, very properly, accepts it! of course we want the bones, but we have got the flints, and they may follow. hurrah for the missing link! excuse more.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the next letter relates to the rising school of biologists who, in opposition to darwin's views, held that species might arise by what was at the time termed "discontinuous variation." to prof. meldola _february , ._ my dear professor meldola,--i hope to have copies of my "evolution" article in a few days, and will send you a couple. the article was in print last september, but, being long, was crowded out month after month, and only now got in by being cut in two. i think i have demolished "discontinuous variation" as having any but the most subordinate part in evolution of species. congratulations on presidency of the entomological society. a.r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. march , ._ my dear poulton,--i have now nearly finished reading romanes, but do not find it very convincing. there is a large amount of special pleading. on two points only i feel myself hit. my doubt that darwin really meant that _all_ the individuals of a species could be similarly modified without selection is evidently wrong, as he adduces other quotations which i had overlooked. the other point is, that my suggested explanation of sexual ornaments gives away my case as to the utility of all specific characters. it certainly does as it stands, but i now believe, and should have added, that all these ornaments, where they differ from species to species, are also recognition characters, and as such were rendered stable by natural selection from their first appearance. i rather doubt the view you state, and which gulick and romanes make much of, that a portion of a species, separated from the main body, will have a different average of characters, unless they are a local race which has already been somewhat selected. the large amount of variation, and the regularity of the curve of variation, whenever about or individuals are measured in the same locality, shows that the bulk of a species are similar in amount of variation everywhere. but when a portion of a species begins to be modified in adaptation to new conditions, distinction of some kind is essential, and therefore any slight difference would be increased by selection. i see no reason to believe that species (usually) have been isolated first and modified afterwards, but rather that new species usually arise from species which have a wide range, and in different areas need somewhat different characters and habits. then _distinctness_ arises both by adaptation and by development of recognition marks to minimise intercrossing. i wonder darwin did not see that if the unknown "constant causes" he supposes can modify all the individuals of a species, either indifferently, usefully, or hurtfully, and that these characters so produced are, as romanes says, very, very numerous in all species, and are sometimes the only specific characters, then the neo-lamarckians are quite right in putting natural selection as a very secondary and subordinate influence, since all it has to do is to weed out the hurtful variations. of course, if a species with warning colours were, in part, completely isolated, and its colours or markings were accidentally different from the parent form, whatever set of markings and colours it had would be, i consider, rendered stable for recognition, and also for protection, since if it varied too much the young birds and other enemies would take a heavier toll in learning it was uneatable. it might then be said that the character by which this species differs from the parent species is a useless character. but surely this is not what is usually meant by a "useless character." this is highly useful in itself, though the difference from the other species is not useful. if they were in contact it would be useful, as a distinction preventing intercrossing, and so long as they are not brought together we cannot really tell if it is a species at all, since it might breed freely with the parent form and thus return back to one type. the "useless characters" i have always had in mind when arguing this question are those which are or are supposed to be absolutely useless, not merely relatively as regards the difference from an allied species. i think this is an important distinction.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _ avenue road, regent's park, london, n.w. september , _ dear mr. wallace,--as i cannot get you to deal with lord salisbury i have decided to do it myself, having been finally exasperated into doing it by this honour paid to his address in france--the presentation of a translation to the french academy. the impression produced upon some millions of people in england cannot be allowed to be thus further confirmed without protest. one of the points which i propose to take up is the absurd conception lord salisbury sets forth of the process of natural selection. when you wrote you said you had dealt with it yourself in your volume on darwinism. i have no doubt that it is also in some measure dealt with by darwin himself, by implication or incidentally. you of course know darwin by heart, and perhaps you would be kind enough to save me the trouble of searching by indicating the relevant passages both in his books and in your own. my reading power is very small, and it tries me to find the parts i want by much reading.--truly yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * to the following letter from mr. gladstone, wallace attached this pencil note: "in i put forth the first idea of mouth-gesture as a factor in the origin of language, in a review of e.b. tylor's 'anthropology,' and in i extended it into an article in the _fortnightly review_, and reprinted it with a few further corrections in my 'studies,' under the title 'the expressiveness of speech or mouth-gesture as a factor in the origin of language.' in it i have developed a completely new principle in the theory of the origin of language by showing that every motion of the jaws, lips and tongue, together with inward or outward breathing, and especially the mute or liquid consonants ending words which serve to indicate abrupt or continuous motion, have corresponding meanings in so many cases as to show a fundamental connection. i thus enormously extended the principle of onomatopoeia in the origin of vocal language. as i have been unable to find any reference to this important factor in the origin of language, and as no competent writer has pointed out any fallacy in it, i think i am justified in supposing it to be new and important. mr. gladstone informed me that there were many thousands of illustrations of my ideas in homer."--a.r.w. * * * * * w.e. gladstone to a.r. wallace _hawarden castle, chester. october , ._ dear sir,--your kindness in sending me your most interesting article draws on you the inconvenience of an acknowledgment. my pursuits in connection with homer, especially, have made me a confident advocate of the doctrine that there is, within limits, a connection in language between sound and sense. i would consent to take the issue simply on english words beginning with _st_. you go upon a kindred class in _sn_. i do not remember a perfectly _innocent_ word, a word habitually used _in bonam partem_, and beginning with _sn_, except the word "snow," and "snow," as i gather from _schnee_, is one of the worn-down words. may i beg to illustrate you once more on the ending in _p_. i take our old schoolboy combinations: hop, skip and jump. each motion an ending motion; and to each word closed with _p_ compare the words _run, rennen, courir, currere._ but i have now a new title to speak. it is deafness; and i know from deafness that i run a worse chance with a man whose mouth is covered with beard and moustache. a young relation of mine, slightly deaf, was sorely put to it in an university examination because one of his examiners was _secretal_ in this way. i will not trouble you further except to express, with misgiving, a doubt on a single point, the final _f_. in driving with lord granville, who was deaf but not very deaf, i had occasion to mention to him the duke of _fife_, i used every effort, but in no way could i contrive to make him hear the word. i break my word to add one other particular. out of , odd lines in homer, every one of them expressed, in a sense, heavy weight or force; the blows of heavy-armed men on the breastplates of foes ... [illegible] and the like.--with many thanks, i remain yours very faithfully, w.e. gladstone. p.s.--i should say that the efficacy of lip-expression, undeniably, is most subtle, and defies definite description. * * * * * to dr. archdall reid _parkstone, dorset. april , ._ dear sir,--i am sorry i had not space to refer more fully to your interesting work.[ ] the most important point on which i think your views require emendation is on _instinct_. i see you quote spalding's experiments, but these have been quite superseded and shown to be seriously incorrect by prof. lloyd morgan. a paper by him in the _fortnightly review_ of august, , gives an account of his experiments, and he read a paper on the same subject at the british association last year. he is now preparing a volume on the subject which will contain the most valuable series of observations yet made on this question. another point of some importance where i cannot agree with you is your treating dipsomania as a disease, only to be eliminated by drunkenness and its effects. it appears to me to be only a vicious habit or indulgence which would cease to exist in a state of society in which the habit were almost universally reprobated, and the means for its indulgence almost absent. but this is a matter of comparatively small importance.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. archdall reid _parkstone. april , ._ dear sir,--"we can but reason from the facts we know." we know a good deal of the senses of the higher animals, very little of those of insects. if we find--as i think we do--that all cases of supposed "instinctive knowledge" in the former turn out to be merely intuitive reactions to various kinds of stimulus, combined with very rapidly acquired experience, we shall be justified in thinking that the actions of the latter will some day be similarly explained. when lloyd morgan's book is published we shall have much information on this question. (_see_ "natural selection and tropical nature," pp. - .)--yours truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. meldola _parkstone, dorset. october , ._ my dear meldola,--i got weismann's "germinal selection" two or three months back and read it very carefully, and on the whole i admire it very much, and think it does complete the work of ordinary variation and selection. of course it is a pure hypothesis, and can never perhaps be directly proved, but it seems to me a reasonable one, and it enables us to understand two groups of facts which i have never been able to work out satisfactorily by the old method. these two facts are: ( ) the total, or almost total, disappearance of many useless organs, and ( ) the continuous development of secondary sexual characters beyond any conceivable utility, and, apparently, till checked by inutility. it explains both these. disuse alone, as i and many others have always argued, cannot do the first, but can only cause _regression to the mean_, with perhaps some further regression from economy of material. as to the second, i have always felt the difficulty of accounting for the enormous development of the peacock's train, the bird of paradise plumes, the long wattle of the bell bird, the enormous tail-feathers of the guatemalan trogon, of some humming-birds, etc. etc. etc. the beginnings of all these i can explain as recognition marks, and this explains also their distinctive character in allied species, but it does not explain their growing on and on far beyond what is needful for recognition, and apparently till limited by absolute hurtfulness. it is a relief to me to have "germinal selection" to explain this. i do not, however, think it at all necessary to explain adaptations, however complex. variation is so general and so large, in dominant species, and selection is so tremendously powerful, that i believe all needful adaptation may be produced without it. but, if it exists, it would undoubtedly hasten the process of such adaptation and would therefore enable new places in the economy of nature to be more rapidly filled up. i was thinking of writing a popular exposition of the new theory for _nature_, but have not yet found time or inclination for it. i began reading "germinal selection" with a prejudice against it. that prejudice continued through the first half, but when i came to the idea itself, and after some trouble grasped the meaning and bearing of it, i saw the work it would do and was a convert at once. it really has no relation to lamarckism, and leaves the non-heredity of acquired characters exactly where it was.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the next letter relates to the great controversy then being carried on with respect to weismann's doctrine of the non-inheritance of "acquired" characters, which doctrine implied complete rejection of the last trace of lamarckism from darwinian evolution. wallace ultimately accepted the weismannian teaching. darwin had no opportunity during his lifetime of considering this question, which was raised later in an acute form by weismann. to prof. meldola _parkstane, dorset. january , ._ my dear meldola,--the passage to which you refer in the "origin" (top of p. ) shows darwin's firm belief in the "heredity of acquired variations," and also in the importance of definite variations, that is, "sports," though elsewhere he almost gives these up in favour of indefinite variations; and this last is now the view of all darwinians, and even of many lamarckians. i therefore always now assume this as admitted. weismann's view as to "possible variations" and "impossible variations" on p. of "germinal selection" is misleading, because it can only refer to "sports" or to "cumulative results," not to "individual variations" such as are the material natural selection acts on. variation, as i understand it, can only be a slight modification in the offspring of that which exists in the parent. the question whether pigs could possibly develop wings is absurd, and altogether beside the question, which is, solely, so far as direct evidence goes, as to the means by which the change from one species to another closely allied species has been brought about. those who want to begin by discussing the causes of change from a dog to a seal, or from a cow to a whale, are not worth arguing with, as they evidently do not comprehend the a, b, c of the theory. darwin's ineradicable acceptance of the theory of heredity of the effects of climate, use and disuse, food, etc., on the individual led to much obscurity and fallacy in his arguments, here and there.--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ my dear poulton,--thanks for copy of your british association address,[ ] which i did not read in _nature_, being very busy just then. i have now read it with much pleasure, and think it a very useful and excellent discussion that was much needed. there is, however, one important error, i think, which vitiates a vital part of the argument, and which renders it possible so to reduce the time indicated by geology as to render the accordance of geology and physics more easy to effect. the error i allude to was made by sir a. geikie in his presidential address[ ] which you quote. immediately it appeared i wrote to him pointing it out, but he merely acknowledged my letter, saying he would consider it. to me it seems a most palpable and extraordinary blunder. the error consists in taking the rate of deposition as the same as the rate of denudation, whereas it is about twenty times as great, perhaps much more--because the area of deposition is at least twenty times less than that of denudation. in order to equal the area of denudation, it would require that _every_ bed of _every_ formation should have once extended over the _whole area_ of all the land of the globe! the deposition in narrow belts along coasts of all the matter brought down by rivers, as proved by the _challenger_, leads to the same result. in my "island life," nd edit., pp. - , i have discussed this whole matter, and on reading it again i can find no fallacy in it. i have, however, i believe, overestimated the time required for deposition, which i believe would be more nearly one-fortieth than one-twentieth that of mean denudation; because there is, i believe, also a great overestimate of the maximum of deposition, because it is partly made up of beds which may have been deposited simultaneously. also the maximum thickness is probably double the mean thickness. the mean rate of denudation, both for european rivers and for all the rivers that have been measured, is a foot in three million years, which is the figure that should be taken in calculations.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. meldola _parkstone, dorset. april , ._ my dear meldola,-- ... i thought romanes' article in reply to spencer was very well written and wonderfully clear for him, and i agree with most of it, except his high estimate of spencer's co-adaptation argument. it is quite true that spencer's biology rests entirely on lamarckism, so far as heredity of acquired characters goes. i have been reading weismann's last book, "the germ plasm." it is a wonderful attempt to solve the most complex of all problems, and is almost unreadable without some practical acquaintance with germs and their development.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _parkstone, dorset. june , ._ my dear poulton,-- ... the rate of deposition might be modified in an archipelago, but would not necessarily be less than now, on the _average_. on the ocean side it might be slow, but wherever there were comparatively narrow straits between the islands it might be even faster than now, because the area of deposition would be strictly limited. in the seas between java and borneo and between borneo and celebes the deposition _may be_ above the average. again, during the development of continents there were evidently extensive mountain ridges and masses with landlocked seas, or inland lakes, and in all these deposition would be rapid. anyhow, the fact remains that there is no necessary equality between rates of denudation and deposition (in thickness) as geikie has _assumed_. i was delighted with your account of prichard's wonderful anticipation of galton and weismann! it is so perfect and complete.... it is most remarkable that such a complete statement of the theory and such a thorough appreciation of its effects and bearing should have been so long overlooked. i read prichard when i was very young, and have never seen the book since. his facts and arguments are really useful ones, and i should think weismann must be delighted to have such a supporter come from the grave. his view as to the supposed transmission of disease is quite that of archdall reid's recent book. he was equally clear as to selection, and had he been a _zoologist_ and _traveller_ he might have anticipated the work of both darwin and weismann! to bring out such a book as his "researches" when only twenty-seven, and a practising physician, shows what a remarkable man he was.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. meldola _parkstone, dorset. july , ._ my dear meldola,-- ... i am now reading a wonderfully interesting book--o. fisher's "physics of the earth's crust." it is really a grand book, and, though full of unintelligible mathematics, is so clearly explained and so full of good reasoning on all the aspects of this most difficult question that it is a pleasure to read it. it was especially a pleasure to me because i had just been writing an article on the permanence of the oceanic basins, at the request of the editor of _natural science_, who told me i was not orthodox on the point. but i find that fisher supports the same view with very great force, and it strikes me that if weight of argument and number of capable supporters create orthodoxy in science, it is the other side who are not orthodox. i have some fresh arguments, and i was delighted to be able to quote fisher. it seems almost demonstrated now that sir w. thomson was wrong, and that the earth _has_ a molten interior and a very thin crust, and in no other way can the phenomena of geology be explained....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to sir oliver lodge _parkstone, dorset. march , ._ my dear sir,--my own opinion has long been--and i have many times given reasons for it--that there is always an ample amount of variation in all directions to allow any useful modification to be produced, very rapidly, as compared with the rate of those secular changes (climate and geography) which necessitate adaptation; hence no guidance of variation in certain lines is necessary. for proof of this i would ask you to look at the diagrams in chapter iii. of my "darwinism," reading the explanation in the text. the proof of such constant indefinite variability has been much increased of late years, and if you consider that instead of tens or hundreds of individuals, nature has as many thousands or millions to be selected from, every year or two, it will be clear that the materials for adaptation are ample. again, i believe that the time, even as limited by lord kelvin's calculations, is ample, for reasons given in chapter x., "on the earth's age," in my "island life," and summed up on p. . i therefore consider the difficulty set forth on p. of the leaflet you send is not a real one. to my mind, the development of plants and animals from low forms of each is fully explained by the variability proved to exist, with the actual rapid multiplication and natural selection. for this no other intellectual agency is required. the problem is to account for the infinitely complex constitution of the material world and its forces which rendered living organisms possible; then, the introduction of consciousness or sensation, which alone rendered the animal world possible; lastly, the presence in man of capacities and moral ideas and aspirations which could not conceivably be produced by variation and natural selection. this is stated at p. - of my "darwinism," and is also referred to in the article i enclose (at p. ) and which you need not return. the subject is so large and complex that it is not to be wondered so many people still maintain the insufficiency of natural selection, without having really mastered the facts. i could not, therefore, answer your question without going into some detail and giving references.... --believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. h.n. ridley _parkstone, dorset. october , ._ my dear mr. ridley,-- ... we are much interested now about de rougemont, and i dare say you have seen his story in the _wide world magazine_, while in the _daily chronicle_ there have been letters, interviews and discussions without end. a few people, who think they know everything, treat him as an impostor; but unfortunately they themselves contradict each other, and so far are proved to be wrong more often than de rougemont. i firmly believe that his story is substantially true--making allowance for his being a foreigner who learnt one system of measures, then lived thirty years among savages, and afterwards had to reproduce all his knowledge in english and australian idioms. as an intelligent writer in the _saturday review_ says, putting aside the sensational illustrations there is absolutely nothing in his story but what is quite _possible_ and even _probable_. he must have reached singapore the year after i returned home, and i dare say there are people there who remember jensen, the owner of the schooner _veilland_, with whom he sailed on his disastrous pearl-fishing expedition. jensen is said now to be in british new guinea, and has often spoken of his lost cargo of pearls. ---- and ----, of the royal geographical society, state that they are convinced of the substantial truth of the main outlines of his story, and after three interviews and innumerable questions are satisfied of his _bona fides_--and so am i.--with best wishes, believe me to be yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * mr. samuel waddington to a.r. wallace _ whitehall gardens, london, s.w. february , ._ dear sir,--i trust you will forgive a stranger troubling you with a letter, but a friend has asked me whether, as a matter of fact, darwin held that _all_ living creatures descended from one and the same ancestor, and that the pedigree of a humming-bird and that of a hippopotamus would meet if traced far enough back. can you tell me whether darwin did teach this? i should have thought that as life was developed once, it probably could and would be developed many times in different places, as month after month, and year after year went by; and that, from the very first, it probably took many different forms and characters, in the same way as crystals take different forms and shapes, even when composed of the same substance. from these many developments of "life" would descend as many separate lines of evolution, one ending in the humming-bird, another in the hippopotamus, a third in the kangaroo, etc., and their pedigrees (however far back they might be traced) would not join until they reached some primitive form of protoplasm,--yours faithfully, samuel waddington. * * * * * to mr. samuel waddington _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ dear sir,--darwin believed that all living things originated from "a few forms or from one"--as stated in the last sentence of his "origin of species." but privately i am sure he believed in the _one_ origin. of course there is a possibility that there were several distinct origins from inorganic matter, but that is very improbable, because in that case we should expect to find some difference in the earliest forms of the germs of life. but there is no such difference, the primitive germ-cells of man, fish or oyster being almost indistinguishable, formed of identical matter and going through identical primitive changes. as to the humming-bird and hippopotamus, there is no doubt whatever of a common origin--if evolution is accepted at all; since both are vertebrates--a very high type of organism whose ancestral forms can be traced back to a simple type much earlier than the common origin of mammals, birds and reptiles.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to sir francis darwin _parkstone, dorset. july , ._ dear mr. darwin,--thanks for the letter returned. i _do_ hold the opinion expressed in the last sentence of the article you refer to, and have reprinted it in my volume of studies, etc. but the stress must be laid on the word _proof_. i intended it to enforce the somewhat similar opinion of your father, in the "origin" (p. , th edit.), where he says, "analogy may be a deceitful guide." but i really do not go so far as he did. for he maintained that there was not any proof that the several great classes or kingdoms were descended from common ancestors. i maintain, on the contrary, that all without exception are now proved to have originated by "descent with modification," but that there is no proof, and no necessity, that the very same causes which have been sufficient to produce all the species of a genus or order were those which initiated and developed the greater differences. at the same time i do _not_ say they were not sufficient. i merely urge that there is a difference between proof and probability.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _broadstone, wimborne. august , ._ my dear poulton,-- ... what a miserable abortion of a theory is "mutation," which the americans now seem to be taking up in place of lamarckism, "superseded." anything rather than darwinism! i am glad dr. f.a. dixey shows it up so well in this week's _nature_,[ ] but too mildly!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _broadstone, wimborne. april , ._ my dear poulton,--many thanks for copy of your address,[ ] which i have read with great pleasure and will forward to birch next mail. you have, i think, produced a splendid and unanswerable set of facts proving the non-heredity of acquired characters. i was particularly pleased with the portion on "instincts," in which the argument is especially clear and strong. i am afraid, however, the whole subject is above and beyond the average "entomologist" or insect collector, but it will be of great value to all students of evolution. it is curious how few even of the more acute minds take the trouble to reason out carefully the teaching of certain facts--as in the case of romanes and the "variable protection," and as i showed also in the case of mivart (and also romanes and gulick) declaring that isolation alone, without natural selection, could produce perfect and well-defined species (see _nature_, jan. , ).... --yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to sir francis darwin _broadstone, wimborne. october , ._ dear mr. darwin,--i return you the two articles on "mutation" with many thanks. as they are both supporters of de vries, i suppose they put his case as strongly as possible. professor hubrecht's paper is by far the clearest and the best written, and he says distinctly that de vries claims that all new species have been produced by mutations, and none by "fluctuating variations." professor hubrecht supports this and says that de vries has proved it! and all this founded upon a few "sports" from one species of plant, itself of doubtful origin (variety or hybrid), and offering phenomena in no way different from scores of other cultivated plants. never, i should think, has such a vast hypothetical structure been erected on so flimsy a basis! the boldness of his statements is amazing, as when he declares (as if it were a fact of observation) that fluctuating variability, though he admits it as the origin of all domestic animals and plants, yet "never leads to the formation of species"! (hubrecht, p. .) there is one point where he so grossly misinterprets your father that i think you or some other botanist should point it out. de vries is said to quote from "life and letters," ii., p. , where darwin refers to "chance variations"--explained three lines on as "the slight differences selected by which a race or species is at length formed." yet de vries and hubrecht claim that by "chance variations" darwin meant "sports" or "mutations," and therefore agrees with de vries, while both omit to refer to the many passages in which, later, he gave less and less weight to what he termed "single large variations"--the same as de vries' "mutations"!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to sir joseph hooker _broadstone, wimborne. november , ._ my dear sir joseph,--i am writing to apologise for a great oversight. when i sent my publishers a list of persons who had contributed to "my life" in various ways, your name, which should have been _first_, was strangely omitted, and the omission was only recalled to me yesterday by reading your letters to bates in clodd's edition of his amazon book, which i have just purchased. i now send you a copy by parcel-post, in the hope that you will excuse the omission to send it sooner. now for a more interesting subject, i was extremely pleased and even greatly surprised, in reading your letters to bates, to find that at that early period ( ) you were already strongly convinced of three facts which are absolutely essential to a comprehension of the method of organic evolution, but which many writers, even now, almost wholly ignore. they are ( ) the universality and large amount of normal variability, ( ) the extreme rigour of natural selection, and ( ) that there is no adequate evidence for, and very much against, the inheritance of acquired characters. it was only some years later, when i began to write on the subject and had to think out the exact mode of action of natural selection, that i myself arrived at ( ) and ( ), and have ever since dwelt upon them--in season and out of season, as many will think--as being absolutely essential to a comprehension of organic evolution. the third i did not realise till i read weismann, i have never seen the sufficiency of normal variability for the modification of species more strongly or better put than in your letters to bates. darwin himself never realised it, and consequently played into the hands of the "discontinuous variation" and "mutation" men, by so continually saying "_if_ they vary"--"without variation natural selection can do nothing," etc. your argument that variations are not caused by change of environment is equally forcible and convincing. has anybody answered de vries yet? f. darwin lent me prof. hubrecht's review from the _popular science monthly_, in which he claims that de vries has proved that new species have always been produced from "mutations," never through normal variability, and that darwin latterly agreed with him! this is to me amazing! the americans too accept de vries as a second darwin!--yours very sincerely, alfred e. wallace. * * * * * sir j. hooker to a.r. wallace _the camp, sunningdale. november , ._ my dear wallace,--my return from a short holiday at sidmouth last thursday was greeted by your kind and welcome letter and copy of your "life." the latter was, i assure you, never expected, knowing as i do the demand for free copies that such a work inflicts on the writer. in fact i had put it down as one of the annual christmas gifts of books that i receive from my own family. coming, as it thus did, quite unexpectedly, it is doubly welcome, and i do heartily thank you for this proof of your greatly valued friendship. it will prove to be one of four works of greatest interest to me of any published since darwin's "origin," the others being waddell's "lhasa," scott's "antarctic voyage," and mill's "siege of the south pole." i have not seen clodd's edition of bates's "amazon," which i have put down as to be got, and i had no idea that i should have appeared in it. your citation of my letters and their contents are like dreams to me; but to tell you the truth, i am getting dull of memory as well as of hearing, and what is worse, in reading: what goes in at one eye goes out at the other. so i am getting to realise darwin's consolation of old age, that it absolves me from being expected to know, remember, or reason upon new facts and discoveries. and this must apply to your query as to anyone having as yet answered de vries. i cannot remember having seen any answer; only criticisms of a discontinuous sort. i cannot for a moment entertain the idea that darwin ever assented to the proposition that new species have always been produced from mutation and never through normal variability. possibly there is some quibble on the definition of mutation or of variation. the americans are prone to believe any new things, witness their swallowing the thornless cactus produced by that man in california--i forget his name--which kew exposed by asking for specimens to exhibit in the cactus house....--i am, my dear wallace, sincerely yours, jos. d. hooker. * * * * * to mr. e. smedley _broadstone, wimborne. january , ._ dear mr. smedley,--i have read oliver lodge's book in answer to haeckel, but i do not think it very well done or at all clearly written or well argued. a book[ ] has been sent me, however, which is a masterpiece of clearness and sound reasoning on such difficult questions, and is a far more crushing reply to haeckel than o. lodge's. i therefore send you a copy, and feel sure you will enjoy it. it is a stiff piece of reasoning, and wants close attention and careful thought, but i think you will be able to appreciate it. in my opinion it comes as near to an intelligible solution of these great problems of the universe as we are likely to get while on earth. it is a book to read and think over, and read again. it is a masterpiece....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _broadstone, wimborne. july , ._ my dear poulton,--thanks for your very interesting letter. i am glad to hear you have a new book on "evolution"[ ] nearly ready and that in it you will do something to expose the fallacies of the mutationists and mendelians, who pose before the world as having got _all_ wisdom, before which we poor darwinians must hide our diminished heads! wishing to know the best that could be said for these latter-day anti-darwinians, i have just been reading lock's book on "variation, heredity, and evolution." in the early part of his book he gives a tolerably fair account of natural selection, etc. but he gradually turns to mendelism as the "one thing needful"--stating that there can be "no sort of doubt" that mendel's paper is the "most important" contribution of its size ever made to biological science! "mutation," as a theory, is absolutely nothing new--only the assertion that new species originate _always_ in sports, for which the evidence adduced is the most meagre and inconclusive of any ever set forth with such pretentious claims! i hope you will thoroughly expose this absurd claim. mendelism is something new, and within its very limited range, important, as leading to conceptions as to the causes and laws of heredity, but only misleading when adduced as the true origin of species in nature, as to which it seems to me to have no part.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _broadstone, wimborne. november , ._ my dear poulton,--many thanks for letting me see the proofs.[ ] ... the whole reads very clearly, and i am delighted with the way you expose the mendelian and mutational absurd claims. that ought to really open the eyes of the newspaper men to the fact that natural selection and darwinism are not only holding their ground but are becoming more firmly established than ever by every fresh research into the ways and workings of living nature. i shall look forward to great pleasure in reading the whole book. i was greatly pleased with archdall reid's view of mendelism in _nature_.[ ] he is a very clear and original thinker. i see in essay x. you use in the title the term "defensive coloration." why this instead of the usual "protective"? surely the whole function of such colours and markings is to protect from attack--not to defend when attacked. the latter is the function of stings, spines and hard coats. i only mention this because using different terms may lead to some misconception. your illustration of mutation by throwing colours on a screen, and the argument founded on it, i liked much. that reminds me that h. spencer's argument for inheritance of acquired variations--that co-ordination of many parts at once, required for adaptations, would be impossible by chance variations of those parts--applies with a hundredfold force to mutations, which are admittedly so much less frequent both in their numbers and the repetitions of them.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _broadstone, wimborne. december , ._ my dear poulton,--the importance of mendelism to evolution seems to me to be something of the same kind, but very much less in degree and importance, as galton's fine discovery of the law of the average share each parent has in the characters of the child--one quarter, the four grandparents each one-sixteenth, and so on. that illuminates the whole problem of heredity, combined with individual diversity, in a way nothing else does. i almost wish you could introduce that!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. archdall reid _broadstone, wimborne. january , ._ dear sir,-- ... i was much pleased the other day to read, in a review of mr. t. rice holmes's fine work on "ancient britain and the invasions of julius cæsar," that the author has arrived by purely historical study at the conclusion that we have not risen morally above our primitive ancestors. it is a curious and important coincidence. i myself got the germ of the idea many years ago, from a very acute thinker, mr. albert mott, who gave some very original and thoughtful addresses as president of the liverpool philosophical society, one of which dealt with the question of savages being often, perhaps always, the descendants of more civilised races, and therefore affording no proof of progression. at that time (about - ) i could not accept the view, but i have now come to think he was right.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. november , ._ my dear poulton,-- ... you may perhaps have heard that i have been invited by the royal institution (through sir w. crookes) to give them a lecture on the jubilee of the "origin of species" in january, after some consideration i accepted, because i _think_ i can give a broad and general view of darwinism, that will finally squash up the mutationists and mendelians, and be both generally intelligible and interesting. so far as i know this has never yet been done, and the royal institution audience is just the intelligent and non-specialist one i shall be glad to give it to if i can. i have been very poorly the last three weeks, but am now recovering my health and strength slowly. it will take me all my time the next two months to get this ready, and now i must write a letter in reply to the absurd and gross misrepresentation of prof. hubrecht, as to imaginary differences between darwin and myself, in the last _contemporary_!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the next letter relates to wallace's friday evening discourse at the royal institution. his friends were afraid whether his voice could be sustained throughout the hour--fears which were abundantly dispelled by the actual performance. this was his last public lecture. to prof. meldola _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. december , ._ my dear meldola,--thanks for your kind offer to read for me if necessary. but when sir wm. crookes first wrote to me about it, he offered to read all, or any parts of the lecture, if my voice did not hold out. i am very much afraid i cannot stand the strain of speaking beyond my natural tone for an hour, or even for half that time--but i may be able to do the opening and conclusion.... i am glad that you see, as i do, the utter futility of the claims of the mutationists. i may just mention them in the lecture, but i hope i have put the subject in such a way that even "the meanest capacity" will suffice to see the absurdity of their claims.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. january , ._ my dear poulton,--i had a delightful two hours at the museum on saturday morning, as mr. rothschild brought from tring several of his glass-bottomed drawers with his finest new new guinea butterflies. they _were_ a treat! i never saw anything more lovely and interesting!... as to your very kind and pressing invitation,[ ] i am sorry to be obliged to decline it. i cannot remain more than one day or night away from home, without considerable discomfort, and all the attractions of your celebration are, to me, repulsions.... my lecture, even as it will be published in the _fortnightly_, will be far too short for exposition of all the points i wish to discuss, and i hope to occupy myself during this year in saying all i want to say in a book (of a wider scope) which is already arranged for. one of the great points, which i just touched on in the lecture, is to show that all that is usually considered the waste of nature--the enormous number produced in proportion to the few that survive--was absolutely essential in order to secure the variety and continuity of life through all the ages, and especially of that one line of descent which culminated in man. that, i think, is a subject no one has yet dealt with.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. march , ._ dear poulton,-- ... i am glad that lankester has replied to the almost disgraceful centenary article in the _times_. but it is an illustration of the widespread mischief the mutationists, etc., are doing. i have no doubt, however, it will all come right in the end, though the end may be far off, and in the meantime we must simply go on, and show, at every opportunity, that darwinism actually does explain the whole fields of phenomena that they do not even attempt to deal with, or even approach....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mrs. fisher _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. march , ._ dear mrs. fisher,-- ... another point i am becoming more and more impressed with is, a teleology of fundamental laws and forces rendering development of the infinity of life-forms possible (and certain) in place of the old teleology applied to the production of each species. such are the case of feathers reproduced annually, which i gave at end of lecture, and the still more marvellous fact of the caterpillar, often in two or three weeks of chrysalis life, having its whole internal, muscular, nervous, locomotive and alimentary organs decomposed and recomposed into a totally different being--an absolute miracle if ever there is one, quite as wonderful as would be the production of a complex marine organism out of a mass of protoplasm. yet, because there has been continuity, the difficulty is slurred over or thought to be explained!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to sir w.t. thiselton-dyer _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. june , ._ dear sir william,--on saturday, to my great pleasure, i received a copy of the darwin commemoration volume. i at once began reading your most excellent paper on the geographical distribution of plants. it is intensely interesting to me, both because it so clearly brings out darwin's views and so judiciously expounds his arguments--even when you intimate a difference of opinion--but especially because you bring out so clearly and strongly his views on the general permanence of continents and oceans, which to-day, as much as ever, wants insisting upon. i may just mention here that none of the people who still insist on former continents where now are deep oceans have ever dealt with the almost physical impossibility of such a change having occurred without breaking the continuity of terrestrial life, owing to the mean depth of the ocean being at least six times the mean height of the land, and its area nearly three times, so that the whole mass of the land of the existing continents would be required to build up even _one small_ continent in the depths of the atlantic or pacific! i have demonstrated this, with a diagram, in my "darwinism" (chap, xii.), and it has never been either refuted or noticed, but passed by as if it did not exist! your whole discussion of dispersal and distribution is also admirable, and i was much interested with your quotations from guppy, whose book i have not seen, but must read. most valuable to me also are your numerous references to darwin's letters, so that the article serves as a compendious index to the five volumes, as regards this subject. especially admirable is the way in which you have always kept darwin before us as the centre of the whole discussion, while at the same time fairly stating the sometimes adverse views of those who differ from him on certain points....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to a.r. wallace _the ferns, witcombe, gloucester. june , ._ dear dr. wallace,--it is difficult for me to tell you how gratified i am by your extraordinarily kind letter.... the truth is that success was easy. it has been my immense good fortune to know most of those who played in the drama. the story simply wanted a straightforward amanuensis to tell itself. but it is a real pleasure to me to know that i have met with some measure of success. there are many essays in the book that you will not like any more than i do. the secret of this lies in the fact, which you pointed out in your memorable speech at the linnean celebration, that no one but a naturalist can really understand darwin. i did not go to cambridge--i had my hands full here. i was not sorry for the excuse. there seemed to me a note of insincerity about the whole business. i am short-tempered. i cannot stand being told that the origin of species has still to be discovered, and that specific differences have no "reality" (bateson's essay, p. ). people are of course at liberty to hold such opinions, but decency might have presented another occasion for ventilating them.--yours sincerely, w.t. thiselton-dyer. * * * * * sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to a.r. wallace _the ferns, witcombe, gloucester. july , ._ dear mr. wallace,-- ... i have just got f. darwin's "foundations." he tries to make out that his father could have dispensed with malthus. but the selection death-rate in a slightly varying large population is _the_ pith of the whole business. the darwin-wallace theory is, as you say, "the continuous adjustment of the organic to the inorganic world." it is what mathematicians call "a moving equilibrium." in fact, i have always maintained that it is a mathematical conception. it seemed to me there was a touch of insincerity about the whole celebration,[ ] as the younger cambridge school as a whole do not even begin to understand the theory.... i take it that the reason is, as you pointed out, that none of them are naturalists.--yours sincerely, w.t. thiselton-dyer. * * * * * to dr. archdall reid _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. december , ._ dear dr. archdall reid,--many thanks for your very interesting and complimentary letter. i am very glad to hear of your new book, which i doubt not will be very interesting and instructive. the subjects you treat are, however, so very complex, and require so much accurate knowledge of the facts, and so much sound reasoning upon them, that i cannot possibly undertake the labour and thought required before i should feel justified in expressing an opinion upon your treatment of them.... i rejoice to hear that you have exposed the fallacy of the claims of the mendelians. i have also tried to do so, but i find it quite impossible for me to follow their detailed studies and arguments. it wants a mathematical mind, which i have not. but on the general relation of mendelism to evolution i have come to a very definite conclusion. this is, that it has no relation whatever to the evolution of species or higher groups, but is really antagonistic to such evolution! the essential basis of evolution, involving as it does the most minute and all-pervading adaptation to the whole environment, is extreme and ever-present plasticity, as a condition of survival and adaptation. but the essence of mendelian characters is their rigidity. they are transmitted without variation, and therefore, except by the rarest of accidents, can never become adapted to ever-varying conditions. moreover, when crossed they reproduce the same pair of types in the same proportions as at first, and therefore without selection; they are antagonistic to evolution by continually reproducing injurious or useless characters--which is the reason they are so rarely found in nature, but are mostly artificial breeds or sports. my view is, therefore, that mendelian characters are of the nature of abnormalities or monstrosities, and that the "mendelian laws" serve the purpose of eliminating them when, as usually, they are not useful, and thus preventing them from interfering with the normal process of natural selection and adaptation of the more plastic races. i am also glad to hear of your new argument for non-inheritance of acquired characters.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to sir w.t. thiselton-dyer _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne, february , ._ dear sir w. thiselton-dyer,--i thank you very much for taking so much trouble as you have done in writing your views of my new book.[ ] i am glad to find that you agree with much of what i have said in the more evolutionary part of it, and that you differ only on some of my suggested interpretations of the facts. i have always felt the disadvantage i have been under--more especially during the last twenty years--in having not a single good biologist anywhere near me, with whom i could discuss matters of theory or obtain information as to matters of fact. i am therefore the more pleased that you do not seem to have come across any serious misstatements in the botanical portions, as to which i have had to trust entirely to second-hand information, often obtained through a long and varied correspondence. as to your disagreement from me in the conclusions arrived at and strenuously advocated in the latter portions of my work, i am not surprised. i am afraid, now, that i have not expressed myself sufficiently clearly as to the fundamental phenomena which seem to me absolutely to necessitate a guiding mind and organising power. hardly one of my critics (i think absolutely not one) has noticed the distinction i have tried and intended to draw between evolution on the one hand, and the fundamental powers and properties of life--growth, assimilation, reproduction, heredity, etc.--on the other. in evolution i recognise the action of natural selection as universal and capable of explaining all the facts of the continuous development of species from species, "from amoeba to man." but this, as darwin, weismann, kerner, lloyd-morgan, and even huxley have seen, has nothing whatever to do with the basic mysteries of life--growth, etc. etc. the chemists think they have done wonders when they have produced in their laboratories certain organic substances--always by the use of other organic products--which life builds up within each organism, and from the few simple elements available in air, earth, and water, innumerable structures--bone, horn, hair, skin, blood, muscle, etc. etc.; and these are not amorphous--mere lumps of dead matter--but organised to serve certain definite purposes in each living organism. i have dwelt on this in my chapter on "the mystery of the cell." now i have been unable to find any attempt by any biologist or physiologist to grapple with this problem. one and all, they shirk it, or simply state it to be insoluble. it is here that i state guidance and organising power are essential. my little physiological parable or allegory (p. ) i think sets forth the difficulty fairly, though by no means adequately, yet not one of about fifty reviews i have read even mentions it. if you know of any writer of sufficient knowledge and mental power, who has fully recognised and fairly grappled with this fundamental problem, i should be very glad to be referred to him. i have been able to find no approach to it. yet i am at once howled at, or sneered at, for pointing out the facts that such problems exist, that they are not in any way touched by evolution, but are far before it, and the forces, laws and agencies involved are those of existences possessed of powers, mental and physical, far beyond those mere mechanical, physical, or chemical forces we see at work in nature....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to a.r. wallace _the ferns, witcombe, gloucester. february , ._ dear mr. wallace,-- ... you must let me correct you on one technical point in your letter. it is no longer possible to say that chemists effect the synthesis of organic products "by the use of other organic substances." from what has been already effected, it cannot be doubted that eventually every organic substance will be built up from "the few simple elements available in air, earth and water." i think you may take it from me that this does not admit of dispute.... at any rate we are in agreement as to natural selection being capable of explaining evolution "from amoeba to man." it is generally admitted that that is a mechanical or scientific explanation. that is to say, it invokes nothing but intelligible actions and causes. de vries, however, asserts that the darwinian theory is _not_ scientific at all, and that is of course a position he has a right to take up. but if we admit that it is scientific, then we are precluded from admitting a "directive power." this was von baer's position, also that of kant and of weismann. but von baer remarks that the naturalist is not precluded from asking "whether the _totality_ of details leads him to a general and final basis of intentional design." i have no objection to this, and offer it as an olive-branch which you can throw to your howling and sneering critics. as to "structures organised to serve certain definite purposes," surely they offer no more difficulty as regards "scientific" explanation than the apparatus by which an orchid is fertilised. we can work back to the amoeba to find ourselves face to face with a scarcely organised mass of protoplasm. and then we find ourselves face to face with a problem which will, perhaps, for ever remain insoluble scientifically. but as for that, so is the primeval material of which it (protoplasm) is composed. "matter" itself is evaporating, for it is being resolved by physical research into something which is intangible. we cannot form the slightest idea how protoplasm came into existence. it is impossible to regard it as a mere substance. it is a mechanism. although the chemist may hope to make eventually all the substances which protoplasm fabricates, and will probably do so, he can only build them up by the most complicated processes. protoplasm appears to be able to manufacture them straight off in a way of which the chemist cannot form the slightest conception. this is one aspect of the mystery of _life_. herbert spencer's definition tells one nothing. science can only explain nature as it reveals itself to the senses in terms of consciousness. the explanation may be all wrong in the eyes of omniscience. all one can say is that it is a practical working basis, and is good enough for mundane purposes. but if i am asked if i can solve the riddle of the universe i can only answer, no. brunetière then retorts that science is bankrupt. but this is equivocal. it only means that it cannot meet demands beyond its power to satisfy. i entirely sympathise with anyone who seeks an answer from some other non-scientific source. but i keep scientific explanations and spiritual craving wholly distinct. the whole point of evolution, as formulated by lyell and darwin, is to explain phenomena by known causes. now, directive power is not a known cause. determinism compels me to believe that every event is inevitable. if we admit a directive power, the order of nature becomes capricious and unintelligible. excuse my saying all this. but that is the dilemma as it presents itself to _my_ mind. if it does not trouble other people, i can only say, so much the better for them. briefly, i am afraid i must say that it is ultra-scientific. i think that would have been pretty much darwin's view. i do not think that it is quite fair to say that biologists shirk the problem. in my opinion they are not called upon to face it. bastian, i suppose, believed that he had bridged the gulf between lifeless and living matter. and here is a man, of whom i know nothing, who has apparently got the whole thing cut and dried.--yours sincerely, w.t. thiselton-dyer. * * * * * to prof. poulton _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. may , ._ my dear poulton,--thanks for your paper on darwin and bergson.[ ] i have read nothing of bergson's, and although he evidently has much in common with my own views, yet all vague ideas--like "an internal development force"--seem to me of no real value as an explanation of nature. i claim to have shown the necessity of an ever-present mind as the primal cause both of all physical and biological evolution. this mind works by and through the primal forces of nature--by means of natural selection in the world of life; and i do not think i could read a book which rejects this method in favour of a vague "law of sympathy." he might as well reject gravitation, electrical repulsion, etc. etc., as explaining the motions of cosmical bodies....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. ben r. miller _old orchard, broadstone, dorset, january , ._ dear sir,--thanks for your kind congratulations, and for the small pamphlet[ ] you have sent me. i have read it with much interest, as the writer was evidently a man of thought and talent. the first lecture certainly gives an approach to darwin's theory, perhaps nearer than any other, as he almost implies the "survival of the fittest" as the cause of progressive modification. but his language is imaginative and obscure. he uses "education" apparently in the sense of what we should term "effect of the environment." the second lecture is even a more exact anticipation of the modern views as to microbes, including their transmission by flies and other insects and the probability that the blood of healthy persons contains a sufficiency of destroyers of the pathogenic germs--such as the white blood-corpuscles--to preserve us in health. but he is so anti-clerical and anti-biblical that it is no wonder he could not get a hearing in boston in .--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. poulton _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. april , ._ my dear poulton,--about two months ago an american ... sent me the enclosed booklet,[ ] which he had been told was very rare, and contained an anticipation of darwinism. this it certainly does, but the writer was highly imaginative, and, like all the other anticipators of darwin, did not perceive the whole scope of his idea, being, as he himself says, not sufficiently acquainted with the facts of nature. his anticipations, however, of diverging lines of descent from a common ancestor, and of the transmission of disease germs by means of insects, are perfectly clear and very striking. as you yourself made known one of the anticipators of darwin, whom he himself had overlooked, you are the right person to make this known in any way you think proper. as you have so recently been in america, you might perhaps ascertain from the librarian of the public library in boston, or from some of your biological friends there, what is known of the writer and of his subsequent history. if the house at down is ever dedicated to darwin's memory it would seem best to preserve this little book there; if not you can dispose of it as you think best.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--two of my books have been translated into japanese: will you ascertain whether the bodleian would like to have them? * * * * * to prof. poulton[ ] _old orchard, broadstone, dorset, june , ._ my dear poulton,--i am very glad you have changed your view about the "sleeper" lectures being a "fake." the writer was too earnest, and too clear a thinker, to descend to any such trick. and for what? "agnostic" is not in shakespeare, but it may well have been used by someone before huxley. the parts of your address of which you send me slips are excellent, and i am sure will be of great interest to your audience. i quite agree with your proposal that the "lectures" shall be given to the linnean society.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. e. smedley _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. august , ._ dear mr. smedley,--i am glad to see you looking so jolly. i return the photo to give to some other friend. mr. marchant, the lecturer you heard, is a great friend of mine, but is now less dogmatic. the piltdown skull does not prove much, if anything! the papers are wrong about me. i am not writing anything now; perhaps shall write no more. too many letters and home business. too much bothered with many slight ailments, which altogether keep me busy attending to them. i am like job, who said "the grasshopper was a burthen" to him! i suppose its creaking song.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. w.j. farmer _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. ._ dear sir,-- ... i presume your question "why?" as to the varying colour of individual hairs and feathers, and the regular varying of adjacent hairs, etc., to form the surface pattern, applies to the ultimate cause which enables those patterns to be hereditary, and, in the case of birds, to be reproduced after moulting yearly. the purpose, or end they serve, i have, i think, sufficiently dealt with in my "darwinism"; the method by which such useful tints and markings are produced, because useful, is, i think, clearly explained by the law of natural selection or survival of the fittest, acting through the universal facts of heredity and variation. but the "why"--which goes further back, to the directing agency which not only brings each special cell of the highly complex structure of a feather into its exactly right position, but, further, carries pigments or produces surface striæ (in the case of the metallic or interference colours) also to their exactly right place, and nowhere else--is the mystery, which, if we knew, we should (as tennyson said of the flower in the wall) "know what god and man is." the idea that "cells" are all conscious beings and go to their right places has been put forward by butler in his wonderful book "life and habit," and now even haeckel seems to adopt it. all theories of heredity, including darwin's pangenesis, do not touch it, and it seems to me as fundamental as life and consciousness, and to be absolutely inconceivable by us till we know what life is, what spirit is, and what matter is; and it is probable that we must develop in the spirit world some few thousand million years before we get to this knowledge--if then! my book, "man's place in the universe," shows, i think, indications of the vast importance of that universe as the producer of man which so many scientific men to-day try to belittle, because of what may be, in the infinite!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. part iv home life (by w.g. wallace and violet wallace) in our father's youth and prime he was ft. in. in height, with square though not very broad shoulders. at the time to which our first clear recollections go back he had already acquired a slight stoop due to long hours spent at his desk, and this became more pronounced with advancing age; but he was always tall, spare and very active, and walked with a long easy swinging stride which he retained to the end of his life. as a boy he does not appear to have been very athletic or muscularly strong, and his shortsightedness probably prevented him from taking part in many of the pastimes of his schoolfellows. he was never a good swimmer, and he used to say that his long legs pulled him down. he was, however, always a good walker and, until quite late in life, capable of taking long country walks, of which he was very fond. he was very quick and active in his movements at times, and even when years of age would get up on a chair or sofa to reach a book from a high shelf, and move about his study with rapid strides to find some paper to which he wished to refer. when out of doors he usually carried an umbrella, and in the garden a stick, upon which he leaned rather heavily in his later years. his hair became white rather early in life, but it remained thick and fine to the last, a fact which he attributed to always wearing soft hats. he had full beard and whiskers, which were also white. his eyes were blue and his complexion rather pale. he habitually wore spectacles, and to us he never looked quite natural without them. towards the end of his life his eyes were subject to inflammation, and the glasses were blue. his hands, though large, were not clumsy, and were capable of very delicate manipulation, as is shown by his skill in handling and preserving insects and bird-skins, and also in sketching, where delicacy of touch was essential. his handwriting is another example of this; it remained clear and even to the end, in spite of the fact that he wrote all his books, articles, and letters with his own hand until the last few years, when he occasionally had assistance with his correspondence; but his last two books, "social environment" and "the revolt of democracy," written when he was years of age, were penned by himself, and the mss. are perfectly legible and regular. he was very domestic, and loved his home. his interest extended to the culinary art, and he was fond of telling us how certain things should be cooked. this became quite a joke among us. he was very independent, and it never seemed to occur to him to ask to have anything done for him if he could do it himself--and he could do many things, such as sewing on buttons and tapes and packing up parcels, with great neatness. when unpacking parcels he never cut the string if it could be untied, and he would fold it up before removing the paper, which in its turn was also neatly folded. his clothes were always loose and easy-fitting, and generally of some quiet-coloured cloth or tweed. out of doors he wore a soft black felt hat rather taller than the clerical pattern, and a black overcoat unless the weather was very warm. he wore no ornaments of any kind, and even the silver watch-chain was worn so as to be invisible. he wore low collars with turned-down points and a narrow black tie, which was, however, concealed by his beard. he was not very particular about his personal appearance, except that he always kept his hair and beard well brushed and trimmed. [illustration: mrs. a.r. wallace (about )] in our early days at grays we children were allowed to run in and out of his study; but if he was busy writing at the moment we would look at a book until he could give us his attention. his brother in california sent him a live specimen of the lizard called the "horned toad," and this creature was kept in the study, where it was allowed to roam about, its favourite place being on the hearth. about this time he read "alice through the looking-glass," which pleased him greatly; he was never tired of quoting from it and using some of lewis carroll's quaint words till it became one of our classics. some of our earliest recollections are of the long and interesting walks we took with our father and mother. he never failed to point out anything of interest and tell us what he knew about it, and would answer our numerous questions if possible, or put us off with some joking reference to boojums or jabberwocks. we looked upon him as an infallible source of information, not only in our childhood, but to a large extent all his life. when exploring the country he scorned "trespass boards." he read them "trespassers will be persecuted," and then ignored them, much to our childish trepidation. if he was met by indignant gamekeepers or owners, they were often too much awed by his dignified and commanding appearance to offer any objection to his going where he wished. he was fond of calling our attention to insects and to other objects of natural history, and giving us interesting lessons about them. he delighted in natural scenery, especially distant views, and our walks and excursions were generally taken with some object, such as finding a bee-orchis or a rare plant, or exploring a new part of the country, or finding a waterfall. in we went to live at dorking, but stayed there only a year or two. an instance of his love of mystifying us children may be given. it must have been shortly after our arrival at dorking that one day, having been out to explore the neighbourhood, he returned about tea-time and said, "where do you think i have been? to glory!" of course we were very properly excited, and plied him with questions, but we got nothing more out of him then. later on we were taken to see the wonderful place called "glory wood"; and it had surely gained in glory by such preparation. sometimes it would happen that a scene or object would recall an incident in his tropical wanderings and he would tell us of the sights he had seen. at the time he was greatly interested in botany, in which he was encouraged by our mother, who was an ardent lover of flowers; and to the end of his life he exhibited almost boyish delight when he discovered a rare plant. many walks and excursions were taken for the purpose of seeing some uncommon plant growing in its natural habitat. when he had found the object of his search we were all called to see it. during his walks and holidays he made constant use of the one-inch ordnance maps, which he obtained for each district he visited, planning out our excursions on the map before starting. he had a gift for finding the most beautiful walks by means of it. in we moved to croydon, where we lived about four years. it was at this time that he hoped to get the post of superintendent of epping forest. we still remember all the delights we children were promised if we went to live there. we had a day's excursion to see the forest, he with his map finding out the roads and stopping every now and then to admire a fresh view or to explain what he would do if the opportunity were given him. it was a very hot day, and we became so thirsty that when we reached a stream, to our great joy and delight he took out of his pocket, not the old leather drinking-cup he usually carried, but a long piece of black indiarubber tubing. we can see him now, quite as pleased as we were with this brilliant idea, letting it down into the stream and then offering us a drink! no water ever tasted so nice! our mother used to be a little anxious as to the quality of the water, but he always put aside such objections by saying _running_ water was quite safe, and somehow we never came to any harm through it. the same happy luck attended our cuts and scratches; he always put "stamp-paper" on them, calling it plaster, and we knew of no other till years later. he used the same thing for his own cuts, etc., to the end of his life, with no ill effects. in we moved again, this time to godalming, where he had built a small house which be called "nutwood cottage." after croydon this was a very welcome change and we all enjoyed the lovely country round. the garden as usual was the chief hobby, and mr. j.w. sharpe, our old friend and neighbour in those days, has written his reminiscences of this time which give a very good picture of our father. they are as follows: * * * * * about thirty-five years ago dr. wallace built a house upon a plot of ground adjoining that upon which our house stood. i was at that time an assistant master at charterhouse school; and dr. wallace became acquainted with a few of the masters besides myself. with two or three of them he had regular weekly games of chess; for he was then and for long afterwards very fond of that game; and, i understand, possessed considerable skill at it. a considerable portion of his spare time was spent in his garden, in the management of which mrs. wallace, who had much knowledge and experience of gardening, very cordially assisted him. here his characteristic energy and restlessness were conspicuously displayed. he was always designing some new feature, some alteration in a flower-bed, some special environment for a new plant; and always he was confident that the new schemes would be found to have all the perfections which the old ones lacked. from all parts of the world botanists and collectors sent him, from time to time, rare or newly discovered plants, bulbs, roots or seeds, which he, with the help of mrs. wallace's practical skill, would try to acclimatise, and to persuade to grow somewhere or other in his garden or conservatory. nothing disturbed his cheerful confidence in the future, and nothing made him happier than some plan for reforming the house, the garden, the kitchen-boiler, or the universe. and, truth to say, he displayed great ingenuity in all these enterprises of reformation. although they were never in effect what they were expected to be by their ingenious author, they were often sufficiently successful; but, successful or not, he was always confident that the next would turn out to be all that he expected of it. with the same confidence he made up his mind upon many a disputable subject; but, be it said, never without a laborious examination of the necessary data, and the acquisition of much knowledge. in argument, of which intellectual exercise he was very fond, he was a formidable antagonist. his power of handling masses of details and facts, of showing their inner meanings and the principles underlying them, and of making them intelligible, was very great; and very few men of his time had it in equal measure. but the most striking feature in his conversation was his masterly application of general principles: these he handled with extraordinary skill. in any subject with which he was familiar, he would solve, or suggest a plausible solution of, difficulty after difficulty by immediate reference to fundamental principles. this would give to his conclusions an appearance of inevitableness which usually overbore his adversary, and, even if it did not convince him, left him without any effective reply. this, too, had a good deal to do, i am disposed to conjecture, with another very noticeable characteristic of his which often came out in conversation, and that was his apparently unfailing confidence in the goodness of human nature. no man nor woman but he took to be in the main honest and truthful, and no amount of disappointment--not even losses of money and property incurred through this faith in others' virtues--had the effect of altering this mental habit of his. his intellectual interests were very widely extended, and he once confessed to me that they were agreeably stimulated by novelty and opposition. an uphill fight in an unpopular cause, for preference a thoroughly unpopular one, or any argument in favour of a generally despised thesis, had charms for him that he could not resist. in his later years, especially, the prospect of writing a new book, great or small, upon any one of his favourite subjects always acted upon him like a tonic, as much so as did the project of building a new house and laying out a new garden. and in all this his sunny optimism and his unfailing confidence in his own powers went far towards securing him success.--j.w.s. * * * * * "land nationalisation" ( ), "bad times" ( ), and "darwinism" ( ) were written at godalming, also the series of lectures which he gave in america in - and at various towns in the british isles. he also continued to have examination papers[ ] to correct each year--and a very strenuous time that was. our mother used to assist him in this work, and also with the indexes of his books. we now began to make nature collections, in which he took the keenest interest, many holidays and excursions being arranged to further these engrossing pursuits. one or two incidents occurred at "nutwood" which have left clear impressions upon our minds. one day one of us brought home a beetle, to the great horror of the servant. passing at the moment, he picked it up, saying, "why, it is quite a harmless little creature!" and to demonstrate its inoffensiveness he placed it on the tip of his nose, whereupon it immediately bit him and even drew blood, much to our amusment and his own astonishment. on another occasion he was sitting with a book on the lawn under the oak tree when suddenly a large creature alighted upon his shoulder. looking round, he saw a fine specimen of the ring-tailed lemur, of whose existence in the neighbourhood he had no knowledge, though it belonged to some neighbours about a quarter of a mile away. it seemed appropriate that the animal should have selected for its attentions the one person in the district who would not be alarmed at the sudden appearance of a strange animal upon his shoulder. needless to say, it was quite friendly. a year or so before we left godalming he enlarged the house and altered the garden. but his health not having been very good, causing him a good deal of trouble with his eyes, and having more or less exhausted the possibilities of the garden, he decided to leave godalming and find a new house in a milder climate. so in he finally fixed upon a small house at parkstone in dorset. planning and constructing houses, gardens, walls, paths, rockeries, etc., were great hobbies of his, and he often spent hours making scale drawings of some new house or of alterations to an existing one, and scheming out the details of construction. at other times he would devise schemes for new rockeries or waterworks, and he would always talk them over with us and tell us of some splendid new idea he had hit upon. as mr. sharpe has noted, he was always very optimistic, and if a scheme did not come up to his expectations he was not discouraged but always declared he could do it much better next time and overcome the defects. he was generally in better health and happier when some constructional work was in hand. he built three houses, "the dell" at grays, "nutwood cottage" at godalming, and the "old orchard" at broadstone. the last he actually built himself, employing the men and buying all the materials, with the assistance of a young clerk of works; but though the enterprise was a source of great pleasure, it was a constant worry. he also designed and built a concrete garden wall, with which he was very pleased, though it cost considerably more than he anticipated. he had not been at parkstone long before he set about the planning of "alterations" with his usual enthusiasm. we were both away from home at this time, and consequently had many letters from him, of which one is given as a specimen. his various interests are nearly always referred to in these letters, and in not a few of them his high spirits show themselves in bursts of exuberance which were very characteristic whenever a new scheme was afoot. the springs of eternal youth were for ever bubbling up afresh, so that to us he never grew old. one of us remembers how, when he must have been about , someone said, "what a wonderful old man your father is!" this was quite a shock, for to us he was not old. the letter referred to above is the following: * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _parkstone, dorset, february , ._ my dear will,--another week has passed away into eternity, another month has opened its eyes on the world, and still the illustrious charles [bricklayer] potters about, still the carpenter plies the creaking saw and the stunning hammer, still the plumber plumbs and the bellhanger rattles, still the cisterns overflow and the unfinished drains send forth odorous fumes, still the rains descend and all around the house is a muddle of muck and mire, and still there is so much to do that we look forward to some far distant futurity, when all that we are now suffering will be over, and we may look back upon it as upon some strange yet not altogether uninteresting nightmare! briefly to report progress. the new pipe-man has finished the bathroom and nearly done the bells, and we have had gas alight the last three days. the balcony is finished, the bath and lavatory are closed up and waiting for the varnishers. charles has finished the roof, and the scaffolding is removed. but though two plumbers have tried all their skill, the ball-cock in the cistern won't work, and when the water has been turned on an hour it overflows. the gutters and pipes to roof are not up, and the night before last a heavy flood of rain washed a quantity of muddy water into the back entrance, which flowed right across the kitchen into the back passage and larder, leaving a deposit of alluvial mud that would have charmed a geologist. however, we have stopped that for the future by a drain under the doorstep. the new breakfast-room is being papered and will look tidy soon. a man has been to measure for the stairs. the front porch door is promised for to-morrow, and the stairs, i suppose, in another week. a lot of fresh pointing is to be done, and all the rain-water pipes and the rain-water cistern with its overflow pipes, and then the greenhouse, and then all the outside painting--after which we shall rest for a month and then do the inside papering; but whether that can be done before easter seems very doubtful.... our alterations still go on. the stairs just up--friday night we had to go outside to get to bed, and saturday and sunday we _could_ get up, but over a chasm, and with alarming creaks. now it is all firm, but no handrail yet. painters still at work, and whitewashers. porch door up, with two birds in stained glass--looks fine--proposed new name, "dicky-bird lodge." bath fixed, but waiting to be varnished--luxurious!... * * * * * dr. wallace had already received four medals from various scientific societies, and at our suggestion he had a case made to hold them all, which is referred to in the following letter. the two new medals mentioned were those of the royal geographical and linnean societies. he attached very little importance to honours conferred upon himself, except in so far as they showed acceptance of "the truth," as he called it. * * * * * to miss violet wallace _parkstone, dorset. april , ._ my dear violet,-- ... i have got j.g. wood's book on the horse. it is very good; i think the best book he has written, as his heart was evidently in it.... a dreadful thing has happened! just as i have had my medal-case made, "regardless of expense," they are going to give me another medal! hadn't i better decline it, with thanks? "no room for more medals"!!--your affectionate papa, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--a poor man came here last night (saturday) with a basket of primrose roots--had carried them eight miles, couldn't sell one in poole or parkstone--was years old--couldn't get any work to do--had no home, etc. so, though i do not approve of digging up primrose roots as a trade, i gave him s. d. for them, pitying him as one of the countless victims of landlordism.--a.r.w. a poor man was sentenced to fourteen days' hard labour last week for picking snowdrops in charborough park. shame!--a.r.w., pres. l.n. society. * * * * * to miss violet wallace _parkstone, dorset. may , ._ my dear violet,--i have finished reading "freeland." it is very good--as good a story as "looking backward," but not quite so pleasantly written--rather heavy and germanic in places. the results are much the same as in "looking backward" but brought about in a different and very ingenious manner. it may be called "individualistic socialism." i shall be up in london soon, i expect, to the first meetings of the examiners in the great science of "omnium gatherum."[ ]--your affec. papa, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * while he lived at parkstone our father built a small orchid house in which he cultivated a number of orchids for a few years, but the constant attention which they demanded, together with the heated atmosphere, were too much for him, and he was obliged to give them up. he was never tired of admiring their varied forms and colours, or explaining to friends the wonderful apparatus by which many of them were fertilised. the following letter shows his enthusiasm for orchids: to miss violet wallace _parkstone, dorset. november_ , . my dear violet,-- ... i have found a doctor at poole (mr. turner) who has two nice orchid houses which he attends to entirely himself, and as i can thus get advice and sympathy from a fellow maniac (though he _is_ a public vaccinator!) my love of orchids is again aroused to fever-heat, and i have made some alterations in the greenhouse which will better adapt it for orchid growing, and have bought a few handsome kinds very cheap, and these give me a lot of extra work and amusement.... * * * * * to his wife _hôtel du glacier du rhône. wednesday evening, [july, ]._ my dear annie,--i send you now a box of plants i got on both sides of the furka pass yesterday, and about here to-day. the furka pass on both sides is a perfect flower-garden, and the two sides have mostly different species. the violets and anemones were lovely, and i have got two species of glorious gentians.... all the flowers in the box are very choice species, and have been carefully dug up, and having seen how they grow, i have been thinking of a plan of making a little bed for them on the top of the new rockery where there is now nothing particular. will you please plant them out carefully in the zinc tray of peat and sphagnum that stands outside near the little greenhouse door? just lift up the sphagnum and see if the earth beneath is moist, if not give it a soaking. then put them all in, the short-rooted ones in the sphagnum only, the others through into the peat. then give them a good syringing and put the tray under the shelf outside the greenhouse, and cover with newspaper for a day or two. after that i think they will do, keeping them moist if the weather is dry. i am getting hosts of curiosities. to-day we found four or five species of willows from / in. to in. high, and other rarities.... in haste for post and dinner.--your ever affectionate alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss violet wallace _parkstone, dorset. october , ._ my dear violet,--in your previous letter you asked me the conundrum, why does a wagtail wag its tail? that's quite easy, on darwinian principles. many birds wag their tails. some eastern flycatchers--also black and white--wag their long tails up and down when they alight on the ground or on a branch. other birds with long tails jerk them up in the air when they alight on a branch. now these varied motions, like the motions of many butterflies, caterpillars, and many other animals, must have a use to the animal, and the most common, or rather the most probable, use is, either to frighten or to distract an enemy. if a hawk was very hungry and darted down on a wagtail from up in the air, the wagging tail would be seen most distinctly and be aimed at, and thus the bird would be missed or at most a feather torn out of the tail. the bird hunts for food in the open, on the edges of ponds and streams, and would be especially easy to capture, hence the wagging tail has been developed to baffle the enemy.... * * * * * to miss violet wallace _parkstone, dorset. march , ._ my dear violet,-- ... i have now finished reading the "maha bharata," which is on the whole very fine--finer, i think, than the "iliad." i have read a good deal of it twice, and it will bear reading many times. it corresponds pretty nearly in date with the "iliad," the scenes it describes being supposed to be about b.c. . many of the ideas and moral teachings are beautiful; equal to the best teaching and superior to the general practice of to-day. i have made a lot of emendations and suggestions, which i am going to send to the translator, as the proofs have evidently not been carefully read by any english literary man. about the year dr. wallace began to think of leaving parkstone, partly for reasons of health and partly to get a larger garden, if possible. he spent three years in looking for a suitable spot in many of the southern counties, and we were all pressed to join in the search. finally he found just the spot he wanted at broadstone; only three miles away. the following letters describe his final success--all written with his usual optimism and high spirits: * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _parkstone, dorset. october , ._ my dear will,--at length the long quest has come to an end, and i have agreed to buy three acres of land at broadstone. ma and i have just been over again this morning to consider its capabilities, and the exact boundaries that will be the most advantageous, as i have here the great advantage of choosing exactly what i will have. i only wish i could afford five acres instead of three, or even ten; but the three will contain the very eye of the whole. i enclose you a bit of the -inch ordnance on which i have marked the piece i have finally fixed upon in red chalk. the attractive bit is the small enclosure of one acre, left rather paler, which is an old orchard in a little valley sloping downward to the s.s.e. there are, perhaps, a score of trees in it--apples, pears, plums and cherries, i believe, and under them a beautiful green short turf like a lawn--kept so, i believe, by rabbits. from the top of this orchard is a fine view over moor and heather, then over the great northern bay of poole harbour, and beyond to the purbeck hills and out to the sea and the old harry headland. it is not very high--about feet, i think, but being on the edge of one of the plateaus the view is very effective. on the top to the left of the road track is a slightly undulating grass field, of which i have a little less than an acre. to the right of the fence, and coming down to the wood, is very rough ground densely covered with heather and dwarf gorse, a great contrast to the field. the wood on the right is mixed but chiefly oak, i think, with some large firs, one quite grand; while the wood on the left is quite different, having some very tall spanish chestnuts loaded with fruit, some beeches, some firs--but i have not had time yet to investigate thoroughly. thus this little bit of three acres has five subdivisions, each with a quite distinct character of its own, and i never remember seeing such variety in such a small area. the red wavy line is about where i shall have to make my road, for the place has now no road, and i think i am very lucky in discovering it and in getting it. another advantage is in the land, which is varied to suit all crops. i fancy ... i shall find places to grow most of my choice shrubs, etc., better than here. i expect bulbs of all kinds will grow well, and i mean to plant a thousand or so of snowdrops, crocuses, squills, daffodils, etc., in the orchard, where they will look lovely. * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _parkstone, dorset. november , ._ my dear will,-- ... i have taken advantage of a foggy cold day to trace you a copy of the ground plan of the proposed house.... of course the house will be much larger than we want, but i look to future value, and rather than build it smaller, to be enlarged afterwards, i would prefer to leave the drawing-room and bedroom adjoining with bare walls inside till they can be properly finished. the house-keeper's room would be a nice dining-room, and the hall a parlour and drawing-room combined. but the outside must be finished, on account of the garden, creepers, etc. the s.e. side (really about s.s.e.) has the fine views. if you can arrange to come at christmas we will have a picnic on the ground the first sunny day. i was all last week surveying--a very difficult job, to mark out exactly three acres so as to take in exactly as much of each kind of ground as i wanted, and with no uninterrupted view over any one of the boundary lines! i found the sextant, and it was very useful setting out the two right angles of the northern boundary. i have not got possession yet, but hope to do so by next week. the house, we reckon, can be built for £ , at the outside.... * * * * * to mrs. fisher _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ dear mrs. fisher,-- ... you will be surprised to hear that i have been so rash as to buy land and to (propose to) build a house! every other effort to get a pleasant country cottage with a little land having failed, we discovered, accidentally, a charming spot only four miles from this house and half a mile from broadstone station, and have succeeded in buying three acres, _chosen by myself_, from lord wimborne at what is really a reasonable price. in its contour, views, wood, and general aspect of wild nature it is almost perfection; and annie, violet, and will are all pleased and satisfied with it. it is on the slope of the broadstone middle plateau, looking south over poole harbour with the purbeck hills beyond, and a little eastward out to the sea.... the ground is good loam in the orchard, with some sand and clay in the field, but this is so open to the sun and air that we are not afraid of it, as the _house-site_ will be entirely concreted over, and i have arranged for a heating stove in a cellar, which will warm and dry the whole basement. in a week or two we hope to begin building, so you may fancy how busy i am, especially as we are building it without a contractor, with the help of a friend.... i go over two or three times a week, as i have two gardeners at work. in the summer (should i be still in the land of the living) i hope you will be able to come and see our little estate, which is to be called by the descriptive name of "old orchard." i have got a good architect to make the working drawings and he has designed a very picturesque yet unpretentious house.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _parkstone, dorset. march , ._ my dear will,--this week's progress has been fairly good although the wet after the frost has caused two falls in the cellar excavations, and we have had to put drain pipes to carry water out, though not much accumulated.... during the week some horses in the field have not only eaten off the tops of the privet hedge, but have torn up some dozens of the plants by the roots, by putting their heads over the -foot wire fence. i am therefore obliged in self-defence to raise the post a foot higher and put barbed wire along the top of it. some cows also got in our ground one day and ate off the tops of the newly planted laurels, which i am told they are very fond of, so i have got a chain and padlock for our gate.... * * * * * we moved into the new house at broadstone at the end of november, , before it was quite finished, and here dr. wallace lived till the end of his life. the garden was an endless source of interest and occupation, being much larger than any he had had since leaving grays. when writing he was not easily disturbed and never showed any impatience or annoyance at any interruption. if interrupted by a question he would pause, pen in hand, and reply or discuss the matter and then resume his unfinished sentence. [illustration: the study at "old orchard"] he seemed to have the substance of his writing in his mind before he commenced, and did not often refer to books or to notes, though he usually had one or two books or papers on the table at hand, and sometimes he would jump up to get a book from the shelves to verify some fact or figure. when preparing for a new book or article he read a great many works and papers bearing on the subject. these were marked with notes and references on the flyleaves; and often by pencil marks to indicate important passages, but he did not often make separate notes. he had a wonderful memory, and stored in his mind the facts and arguments he wished to use, or the places where they were to be found. he borrowed many books from libraries, and from these he sometimes made a few notes. he was not a sound sleeper, and frequently lay awake during the night, and then it was that he thought out and planned his work. he often told us with keen delight of some new idea or fresh argument which had occurred to him during these waking hours. after spending months, or sometimes years, in reading and digesting all the literary matter he could obtain on a subject,--and forming a plan for the treatment of it, he would commence writing, and keep on steadily for five or six hours a day if his health permitted. he also wrote to people all over the world to obtain the latest facts bearing on the subject. in he began writing "man's place in the universe." * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _old orchard. july , ._ my dear will,--i have just finished going over your notes and corrections of the last four chapters. i can't think how i was so stupid to make the mistake in figures which you corrected. in almost all cases i have made some modification in accordance with your suggestions, and the book will be much improved thereby. i have put in a new paragraph about the stars in other parts than the milky way and solar cluster, but there is really nothing known about them. i have also cut out the first reference to jupiter altogether. of course a great deal is speculative, but any reply to it is equally speculative. the question is, which speculation is most in accordance with the known facts, and not with prepossessions only? considering that the book has all been read up and written in less than three months, it cannot be expected to be as complete and careful as if three years had been expended on it, but then it is fresher perhaps. the bit about the pure air came to me while writing, and i let myself go. why should i not try and do a little good and make people think a little on such matters, when i have the chance of perhaps more readers than all my other books? as to my making too much of man, of course that is the whole subject of the book! and i look at it differently from you, because i know _facts_ about him you neither know nor believe _yet_. if you are once convinced of the facts and teachings of spiritualism, you will think more as i do. * * * * * the following letter refers to his little book on mars. to mr. w.g. wallace _broadstone, wimborne. september , ._ my dear will,-- ... after elaborate revision and correction i have sent my ms. of the little "mars" book to macmillans yesterday.... will you read the whole proofs carefully, in the character of the "intelligent reader"? your fresh eye will detect little slips, bad logic, too positive statements, etc., which i may have overlooked. it will only be about or pages large type--and i want it to be really good, and free from blunders that any fool can see.... * * * * * for some years now he had suffered from repeated attacks of asthma and bronchitis. he had tried the usual remedies for these complaints without any good results, and, though still able to write, had then no thought of beginning any large work; in fact, he considered he had but a few more years to live. when mr. bruce-joy came to see him in order to model the portrait medallion, he mentioned in the course of conversation that he had tried the salisbury treatment with wonderful results. our father was at first incredulous, but decided to try it in a modified form. he gave up all starchy foods and ate beef only, cooked in a special manner to render it more digestible. he found such relief from this change of diet that from this time onwards he followed a very strict daily routine, which he continued to the end of his life with slight variations. he made himself a cup of tea on a gas stove in his bedroom at a.m. (the exact quantity of tea and water having been measured the previous evening), and boiled it in a small double saucepan for a definite time by the watch. he always said this cup of tea tasted better than at any other time of the day. he then returned to bed and slept till a.m. during his last two or three years he suffered from rheumatism in his shoulder and it took him a long time to dress, and he called in the aid of his gardener in the last year, who acted as his valet. while dressing he prepared a cup of cocoa on the gas stove, which he carried into the study (next door) at a.m. this was all he had for breakfast, and he took it while reading the paper or his letters. dinner at one o'clock was taken with his family, and he usually related any interesting or striking news he had read in the paper, or in his correspondence, and commented upon it, or perhaps he would tell us of some new flower in the garden. he drank hot water with a little canary sack and a dash of soda-water, to which he added a spoonful of plum jam. he was very fond of sweet things, such as puddings, but he had to partake sparingly of them, and it was a great temptation when some dish of which he was particularly fond was placed upon the table. after dinner he usually took a nap in the study before resuming work or going into the garden. tea was at four o'clock, and consisted only of a cup of tea, which he made himself in the study, unless there were visitors whom he wished to see, when he would sometimes take it into the drawing-room and make it there. after tea he again wrote, or took a turn in the garden if the weather and season permitted. latterly he spent a good part of the afternoon and evening reading and dozing on the sofa, and only worked at short intervals when he felt equal to it. supper, at seven, was a repetition of dinner, and he took it with us in the dining-room. after supper he generally read a novel before the fire except in the very hottest weather, and he frequently dozed on and off till he retired at eleven. he made himself a cup of cocoa while preparing for bed, and drank it just before lying down. for the last year or two it was a constant difficulty with him to secure enough nourishment without aggravating his ailments by indigestion. during this time he suffered continuous discomfort, though he seldom gave utterance to complaint or allowed it to affect the uniform equability of his temper. * * * * * in his daughter came to live with her parents, who generously allowed her to take three or four children as pupils. at first we feared they might bother our father, but he really enjoyed seeing them about and talking to them. he was always interested in any new child, and if for a short time none were forthcoming, always lamented the fact. at dinner the children would ask him all sorts of questions, very amusing ones sometimes. they were also intensely interested in what he ate, and watched with speechless wonder when they saw him eating orange, banana, and sugar with his meat. one of these early pupils, reginald b. rathbone, has sent reminiscences which are so characteristic that we give them as they stand: * * * * * "i have stayed at dr. wallace's house on three occasions; the first two were when i was only about eight or nine years old, and my recollections of him at that time are therefore necessarily somewhat dim. certain things, however, have stuck in my memory. i went there quite prepared to see a very venerable and imposing-looking old gentleman, and filled in advance with much awe and respect for him. as regards his personal appearance i was by no mean disappointed, as his tall, slightly-stooping figure, long white hair and beard, and his spectacles fulfilled my highest expectations, i remember being struck with the kindly look of his eyes, and indeed they did not belie his nature, for he always treated me with great kindness, patience and indulgence, which is somewhat remarkable considering my age, and how exasperating i must have been sometimes. i soon began to regard him as a never-failing fount of wisdom, and as one who could answer any question one liked to put to him. of this latter fact i was not slow to take advantage. i plied him with every kind of question my imaginative young brain could conceive, usually beginning with 'why.' "he nearly always gave me an answer, and what is more, a satisfactory one, and well within the scope of my limited understanding. these definite, satisfactory answers of his used to afford me great pleasure, it being quite a new experience for me to have all my questions answered for me in this way. these answers, as i have said, were nearly always forthcoming, though indeed, on one or two occasions, in answer to an especially ridiculous query of mine he would answer, 'that is a very foolish question, reggie.' but this was very rare. "i remember taking a great interest in what dr. wallace ate. he had a hearty appetite, and was no believer in vegetarianism, for at lunch his diet consisted chiefly of cold beef, liberally seasoned with various sauces and relishes, also vinegar. i used to gaze at these bottles with great admiration. whenever there were peas he used to take large quantities of sugar with them. this greatly aroused my curiosity, and i questioned him about it. 'why,' said he, 'peas themselves contain sugar; it is, therefore, much more sensible to take sugar with them than salt.' and he recounted an anecdote of how an eminent personage he had once dined with had been waited on with great respect and attention by all present, but salt was offered to him with the peas. 'if you want to make me quite happy,' said the great man, 'you will give me some sugar with my peas.' his favourite drink, i remember, was canary sack. "he had a strongly humorous side, and always enjoyed a good laugh. as an instance of this, i will recount the following incident: when i had returned home after my first visit to 'the old orchard,' my sister, three years older than myself, and i had a heated argument on the subject of the number of stomachs in a cow. i insisted it was three; she, on the other hand, held that it was seven. after a long and fierce dispute, i exclaimed: 'well, let us write to dr. wallace, and he will settle it for us and tell us the real number.' this we did, the brazen audacity of the proceeding not striking us at the time. by return of post we received a letter which, alas! i have unfortunately not preserved, but the substance of which i well remember. 'dear irene and reggie,' it ran, 'your dispute as to the number of stomachs which a cow possesses can be settled and rectified by a simple mathematical process usually called subtraction, thus: irene's cow stomachs reggie's cow stomachs ---------- the farmer's cow stomachs. "dr. wallace then went on to explain the names and uses of the four stomachs. "two instances of his fun come to my mind as i write. 'why,' i asked, 'do you sometimes take off your spectacles to read the paper?' 'because i can see better without 'em,' he said. 'then why,' i asked again, 'do you ever wear them?' 'because i can see better with 'em,' was the reply. the other instance relates to chloroform. he was describing the agonies suffered by those who had to undergo amputation before the discovery of anæsthetics, whereas nowadays, he said, 'you are put under chloroform, then wake up and find your arm cut off, having felt nothing. or you wake up and find your leg cut off. or you wake up and find your head cut off!' he then laughed heartily at his own joke. "these are just a few miscellaneous reminiscences, many of them no doubt trivial, but they may perhaps be not entirely devoid of interest, when it is remembered that they are the impressions and recollections of one who was then a boy of eight years old."--b.b.k. * * * * * the year was very auspicious to dr. wallace. to begin with, it was the fiftieth anniversary of the reading of the darwin and wallace joint papers on the origin of species before the linnean society, an event which was commemorated in the way described elsewhere. in the autumn, and just as he was beginning to recover from a spell of bad health, he was invited to give a lecture at the royal institution, the prospect of which seemed to have upon him a most stimulating effect; he at once began to think about a suitable subject. following closely on this came the news that the order of merit was to be conferred upon him. his letters to his son give the details of this eventful period:[ ] * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. october_ , . my dear will,-- ... i have a rather surprising bit of news for you. when i was almost at my worst, feeling very bad, i had a letter inviting me to give an evening lecture at the royal institution, for their jubilee of the "origin of species"! of course i decided at once to decline as impossible, etc., having nothing new to say, etc. but a few hours afterwards an idea suddenly came to me for a very fine lecture, if i can work it out as i hope--and the more i thought over it the better it seemed. so, two days back, i wrote to sir w. crookes--the honorary secretary, who had written to me--accepting provisionally!... here is another "crowning honour"--the most unexpected of all!... * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. december , ._ my dear will,-- ... this morning the copley medals came, gold and silver, smaller than any of the others, but very beautifully designed; the face has the royal society's arms, with copley's name, and "dignissimo," and my name below. the reverse is the royal arms. by the same post came a letter from the lord chancellor's office informing me, to my great relief, that the king had been graciously pleased to dispense with my personal attendance at the investiture of the order of merit, ... * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. december , ._ my dear will,--the ceremony is over, very comfortably. i am duly "invested," and have got two engrossed documents, both signed by the king, one appointing me a member of the "order of merit" with all sorts of official and legal phrases, the other a dispensation from being personally "invested" by the king--as col. legge explained, to safeguard me as having a right to the order in case anybody says i was not "invested." ... colonel legge was a very pleasant, jolly kind of man, and he told us he was in attendance on the german emperor when he was staying near christchurch last summer, and went for many drives with the emperor only, all about the country.... col. legge got here at . , and had to leave at . (at station), so we got a carriage from wimborne to meet the train and take him back, and ma gave him some tea, and he said he had got a nice little place at stoke poges but with no view like ours, and he showed me how to wear the order and was very pleasant: and we were all pleased.... the next letter refers to the discovery of a rare moth and some beetles in the root of an orchid. it was certainly a strange yet pleasant coincidence that these creatures should find themselves in dr. wallace's greenhouse, where alone they would be noticed and appreciated as something uncommon. * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. february , ._ my dear will,-- ... in my last letter i did not say anything about my morning at the nat. hist. museum.... what i enjoyed most was seeing some splendid new guinea butterflies which mr. rothschild[ ] and his curator, mr. jordan, brought up from tring on purpose to show me. i could hardly have imagined anything so splendid as some of these. i also saw some of the new paradise birds in the british museum. but mr. rothschild says they have five times as many at tring, and much finer specimens, and he invited me to spend a week-end at tring and see the museum. so i may go, perhaps--in the summer. but i have a curious thing to tell you about insect collecting at "old orchard." about five months back i was examining one of the clumps of an orchid in the glass case--which had been sent me from buenos ayres by mr. john hall--when three pretty little beetles dropped out of it, on the edge of the tank, and i only managed to catch two of them. they were pretty little longicornes, about an inch long, but very slender and graceful, though only of a yellowish-brown colour. i sent them up to the british museum asking the name, and telling them they could keep them if of any use. they told me they were a species of the large south american genus ibidion, but they had not got it in the collection! on the sunday before christmas day i was taking my evening inspection of the orchids, etc., in the glass case when a largish insect flew by my face, and when it settled it looked like a handsome moth or butterfly. it was brilliant orange on the lower wings, the upper being shaded orange brown, very moth-like, but the antennæ were clubbed like a butterfly's. at first i thought it was a butterfly that mimicked a moth, but i had never seen anything like it before. next morning i got a glass jar half filled with bruised laurel leaves, and ma got it in, and after a day or two i set it, clumsily, and meant to take it to london, but had no small box to put it in. i told mr. rothschild about it, and he said it sounded like a castnia--curious south american moths very near to butterflies. so he got out the drawer with them, but mine was not there; then he got another drawer half-empty, and there it was--only a coloured drawing, but exactly like. it had been described, but neither the museum nor mr. rothschild had got it! i had had the orchids nearly a year and a half, so it must have been, in the chrysalis all that time and longer, which mr. rothschild said was the case with the castnias. on going home i searched, and found the brown chrysalis-case it had come out of among the roots of the same orchid the little longicornes had dropped from. it is, i am pretty sure, a brazilian species, and i have written to ask mr. hall if he knows where it came from. i have sent the moth and chrysalis to prof. poulton (i had promised it to him at the lecture) for the oxford collection, and he is greatly pleased with it; and especially with its history--one quite small bit of an orchid, after more than a year in a greenhouse, producing a rare or new beetle and an equally rare moth!... i am glad to say i feel really better than any time the last ten years.--a.r.w. * * * * * the rev. o. pickard-cambridge has kindly written his reminiscence of another very curious coincidence connected with a natural history object. "some years ago, on looking over some insect drawers in my collection, mr. a.r. wallace exclaimed, 'why, there is my old sarawak spider!' 'well! that is curious,' i replied, 'because that spider has caused me much trouble and thought as to who might have caught it, and where; i had only lately decided to describe and figure it, even though i could give the name of neither locality nor finder, being, as it seemed to me, of a genus and species not as yet recorded; also i had, as you see, provisionally conferred your name upon it, although i had not the remotest idea that it had anything else to do with you.' 'well,' said mr. wallace, 'if it is my old spider it ought to have my own private ticket on the pin underneath.' 'it has a ticket,' i replied, 'but it is unintelligible to me; the spider came to me among some other items by purchase at the sale of mr. wilson saunders' collections.' 'if it is mine,' said wallace (examining it), 'the ticket should be so-and-so. and it is! i caught this spider at sarawak, and specially noted its remarkable form. i remember it as if it were yesterday, and now i find it here, and you about to publish it as a new genus and species to which, in total ignorance of whence it came or who caught it, you have given my name!' thus it stands, and '_friula wallacii_, camb. (family gasteracanthidæ), taken by alfred russel wallace at sarawak,' is the (unique as i believe) type specimen, in my collection."--o.p.c. * * * * * dr. wallace was very fond of reading good novels, and usually spent an hour or two, before retiring to bed, with what he called a "good domestic story." one of his favourite authors was marion crawford. poetry appealed to him very strongly, and he had a good memory for his favourite verses, especially for those he had learned in his youth. amongst his books were over fifty volumes of poetry. he liked to see friends or interesting visitors, but he was rather nervous with strangers until he became interested in what they had to say. he enjoyed witty conversation, and especially a good story well told. no one laughed more heartily than he when he was much amused, and he would slap his hands upon his knees with delight. he was very accessible to anyone who might have something to say worth hearing, and he had a great many visitors, especially during the last ten years of his life. many people distinguished in science, literature, or politics called upon him, and he always enjoyed these visits, and the excitement of them seemed to have no bad effect upon him, even in the last year, when we sometimes feared he might be fatigued by them. in consequence of his sympathy with many heterodox ideas he frequently had visits from "cranks" who wished to secure his support for some new theory or "discovery." he would listen patiently, perhaps ask a few questions, and then endeavour to point out their fallacies. he would amuse us afterwards by describing their "preposterous ideas," and if much bored, he would speak of them as "muffs." he was loath to hurt their feelings, but he generally ended by expressing his opinion quite clearly, occasionally to their discomfiture. * * * * * dr. littledale has contributed some reminiscences which may be introduced here. "when i first met dr. wallace the conversation turned on the types of visitors that came to see him, and he gave us an amusing account of two young women who called on him to read through a most ponderous treatise relating to the universe (i think it was). at all events the treatise proved, amongst other things, that kepler's laws were all wrong. dr. wallace was very busy at the time, and politely declined to undertake the task. i remember him well describing with his hands the size of this enormous manuscript and laughing heartily as he detailed how the writer of the manuscript, the elder of the two sisters, persistently tried to persuade him that her theories were all absolutely proved in the work, while the younger sister acted as a sort of echo to her sister. the climax came in a fit of weeping, and, as dr. wallace described it, the whole fabric of the universe was washed away in a flood of tears. "on one occasion, when i was asked by mrs. wallace to see dr. wallace professionally, he was lying on the sofa in his study by the fire wrapped up in rugs, having just got over a bad shivering attack or rigor. his temperature was ° fahr., and all the other usual signs of acute fever were present, but nothing to enable one to form a positive opinion as to the cause. it must have been forty years since he had been in the tropics, but i think he felt that it was an attack of malarial fever. knowing my patient, my treatment consisted in asking what he was going to do for himself. 'well,' he said, 'i am going to have a hot bath and then go to bed, and to-morrow i shall get up and go into the garden as usual.' and he was out in the garden next day when i went to see him. this was an instance, doubtless one of many, of the 'will to live,' which carried him through a long life. "once, when he was talking about the gaps in the evolution of life, viz. between the inorganic and organic, between vegetable and animal, and between animal and man, i asked, 'why postulate a beginning at all? we are satisfied with illimitability at one end, why not at the other?' 'for the simple reason,' he said, 'that the mind cannot comprehend anything that has never had a beginning.' "what attracted me to him most, i think, was his remarkable simplicity of language, whatever the topic of conversation might be, and this not the simplicity of the great mind bringing itself down to the level of the ordinary individual, but his customary mode of expression. i have heard him say that he felt the need of the fluency of speech which huxley possessed, as he had to cast about for the expression that he wanted. this may have been the case when he was lecturing, but i certainly never noticed it in conversation."--h.e.l. * * * * * dr. wallace was always interested in young men and others who were going abroad with the intention of studying natural history, and gave them what advice and help he could. he much enjoyed listening to the accounts given by travellers of the scenes, animals and plants and native life they had seen, and deplored the so-called civilising of the natives, which, in his opinion, generally meant their exploitation by europeans, leading to their deterioration and extermination. his nervousness with strangers sometimes led them to form quite erroneous impressions. it occasionally found expression in a nervous laugh which had nothing to do with amusement or humour, but was often heard when he was most serious and felt most deeply. one or two interviewers described it as a "chuckle," an expression which suggested feelings most opposite to those which he really experienced. although he could draw and sketch well, he did not take much pleasure in it, and only exercised his skill when there was a definite object in view. his sketches show a very delicate touch, and denote painstaking accuracy, while some are quite artistic. he much preferred drawing with compasses and squares, there being a practical object in his mind for which the plans or drawings were only the first steps. even in his ninety-first year he found much enjoyment in drawing plans, and spent many hours in designing alterations to a small cottage which his daughter had bought. he was interested in literary puzzles and humorous stories, and he preserved in an old scrap-book any that appealed to him. he would sometimes read some of them on festive occasions, or when we had children's parties, and sometimes he laughed so heartily himself that he could not go on reading. in reviewing the years during which dr. wallace lived at broadstone, the last decade, when he was between eighty and ninety years of age, this period seems to have been one of the most eventful, and as full of work and mental activity as any previous period. he never tired of his garden, in which he succeeded in growing a number of rare and curious shrubs and plants. our mother shared his delight and interest in the garden, and knew a great deal about flowers. she had an excellent memory for their botanical names, and he often asked her the name of some plant which he was pointing out to a friend and which for the moment he had forgotten. she was very fond of roses and of primroses, and there was a fine display of these flowers at "old orchard." she was successful in "budding" and in hybridising roses, and produced several beautiful varieties. she was proficient in raising seeds, and he sometimes placed some which he received from abroad in her charge. when he first came to live at broadstone he frequently took short walks to the post or to the bank, and sometimes went by train to poole on business, but he gradually went out less and less, till in the last few years he seldom went outside the garden, but strolled about looking at the flowers or supervising the construction of a new bed or rockery. during his last years his gardener wheeled him about the garden in a bath-chair when he did not feel strong enough to walk all the time. in , after his last two small books were written, he did no more writing except correspondence. this he attended to himself, except on one or two occasions when he was not very well or felt tired, when he asked one of us to answer a few letters for him. he took great interest in a small cottage which had recently been acquired on the purbeck hills near the sea, and in september, much against our wishes, he went there for two nights, taking the gardener to look after him. luckily the weather was fine, and the change and excitement seemed to do him good, and during the next month he was very bright and cheerful, though, as some of his letters to his old friend dr. richard norris and to dr. littledale show, he had been becoming increasingly weak. * * * * * to miss norris _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. december , ._ my dear miss norris,--i am very sorry to hear that your father is so poorly. the weather is terribly gloomy, and i have not been outside my rooms and greenhouse for more than an hour a week perhaps, for the last two months, and feel the better for it. just now i feel better than i have done for a year past, having at last, i think, hit upon a proper diet, though i find it very difficult to avoid eating or drinking too much of what i like best.... it is one of my fads that i hate to waste anything, and it is that partly which makes it so difficult for me to avoid overeating. from a boy i was taught to leave no scraps on my plate, and from this excellent general rule of conduct i now suffer in my old age!...--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. littledale _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. january , ._ dear dr. littledale,--many thanks for your kind congratulations and good wishes.[ ] i am glad to say i feel still able to jog on a few years longer in this _very good_ world--for those who can make the best of it. i am now suffering most from "eczema," which has settled in my legs, so that i cannot stand or walk for any length of time. perhaps that is an outlet for something worse, as i still enjoy my meals, and usually feel as well as ever, though i have to be very careful as to _what_ i eat.--with best wishes for your prosperity, yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. norris _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. october , ._ my dear dr. norris,--except for a continuous weakness i seem improving a little in general health, and the chronic rheumatic pain in my right shoulder has almost passed away in the last month (after about three years), and i can impute it to nothing but about a quarter of a pint a day of bulmer's cider! a most agreeable medicine! the irritability of the skin, however, continues, though the inflammation of the legs has somewhat diminished.... my increasing weakness is now my most serious trouble, as it prevents me really from doing any more work, and causes a large want of balance, and liability to fall down. even moving about the room after books, etc., dressing and undressing, make me want to lie down and rest.... with kind remembrances to your daughter, believe me yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * in disposition dr. wallace was cheerful, and very optimistic, and remarkably even-tempered. if irritated he quickly recovered, and soon forgot all about the annoyance, but he was always strongly indignant at any injustice to the weak or helpless. when worried by business difficulties or losses he very soon recovered his optimism, and seemed quite confident that all would come right (as indeed it generally did), and latterly he became convinced that all his past troubles were really blessings in disguise, without which as a stimulant he would have done no useful work. his life was a happy one, and even the discomforts caused by his ailments, which were at times very acute for days together, never prevented him from enjoying the contemplation of his flowers, nor disturbed the serenity of his temper, nor caused him to complain. although rather delicate all his life, he rarely stayed in bed; in fact, only once in our memory, during an illness at parkstone, did he do so, and then only for one day. on saturday, november st ( ), he walked round the garden, and on the following day seemed very bright, and enjoyed his dinner and supper, but about nine o'clock he felt faint and shivered violently. we called in dr. norman, who came in about an hour, and we heard them having a long talk and even laughing, in the study. as the doctor left he said, "wonderful man! he knows so much. i can do nothing for him." the next day he did not get up at the usual time, but we felt no anxiety until noon, when he still showed no inclination to rise. he appeared to be dozing, and said he wanted nothing. from that time he gradually sank into semi-consciousness, and at half-past nine in the morning of friday, november th, quietly passed on to that other life in which he was such a firm believer. part v social and political views "when a country is well governed, poverty and a mean condition are things to be ashamed of. when a country is ill governed, riches and honour are things to be ashamed of."--confucius. in the above sentences, written long before the dawn of christian civilisation, we have an apt summary of the social and political views of alfred russel wallace. as we have stated in a previous chapter, it was during his short stay in london as a boy, when he was led to study the writings and methods of robert owen, of new lanark, that his mind first opened to the consideration of the inequalities of our social life. during the six years which he spent in land-surveying he obtained a more practical knowledge of the laws pertaining to public and private property as they affected the lives and habits of both squire and peasant. the village inn, or public-house, was then the only place where men could meet to discuss topics of mutual interest, and it was there that young wallace and his brother spent some of their own leisure hours listening to and conversing with the village rustics. the conversation was not ordinarily of an educational character, but occasionally experienced farmers would discuss agricultural and land problems which were beginning to interest wallace. in reading his books and essays written more than seventy years later, we are struck with the exceptional opportunities which he had of comparing social conditions, and commercial and individual prosperity during that long period, and of witnessing the introduction of many inventions. he used to enjoy recalling many of the discussions between intelligent mechanics which he heard of in his early days regarding the introduction of the steam-engine. one and another declared that the grip of the engine on the rails would not be sufficient to draw heavy trucks or carriages; that the wheels, in fact, would whiz round instead of going on, and that it would be necessary to sprinkle sand in front of the wheels, or make the tyres rough like files. about this time, too, there arose a keen debate upon the relative merits of the new railroads and the old canals. many thought that the former could never compete with the latter in carrying heavy goods; but facts soon proved otherwise, for in one district alone the traffic of the canal, within two years of the coming of the railway, decreased by , , tons. it was during these years, and when he and his brother were making a survey for the enclosure of some common lands near llandrindod wells, that wallace finally became aware of the injustice towards the labouring classes of the general enclosure act. in this particular locality the land to be enclosed consisted of a large extent of moor, and mountain which, with other common rights, had for many years enabled the occupants of the scattered cottages around to keep a horse, cow, or a few sheep, and thus make a fairly comfortable living. under the act, the whole of this open land was divided among the adjacent landowners of the parish or manor, in proportion to the size or value of their estates. thus, to those who actually possessed much, much was given; whilst to those who only nominally owned a little land, even that was taken away in return for a small compensation which was by no means as valuable to them as the right to graze their cattle. in spite of the statement set forth in the general enclosure act--"whereas it is expedient to facilitate the enclosure and improvement of common and other lands now subject to the rights of property which obstruct cultivation and the productive employment of labour," wallace ascertained many years later that no single part of the land so enclosed had been cultivated by those to whom it was given, though certain portions had been let or sold at fabulous prices for building purposes, to accommodate summer visitors to the neighbourhood. thus the unfortunate people who had formerly enjoyed home, health, and comparative prosperity in the cottages scattered over this common land had been obliged to migrate to the large towns, seeking for fresh employment and means of subsistence, or had become "law-created paupers"; whilst to crown all, the piece of common originally "reserved" for the benefit of the inhabitants had been turned into golf-links! again and again wallace drew attention to the fundamental duties of landownership, maintaining that the public, as a whole, had become so blinded by custom that no effectual social reform would ever be established unless some strenuous and unremitting effort was made to recover the land by law from those who had made the land laws and who had niched the common heritage of humanity for their own private aggrandisement. with regard to the actual value of land, wallace pointed out that the last valuation was made in the year , and therefore, with the increase of value through minerals and other products since then, the arrears of land tax due up to would amount to more than the value of all the agricultural land of our country at the present time; therefore existing landlords, in clamouring for their alleged rights of property, might find out that those "rights" no longer exist. yet another point on which he insisted was the right of way through fields or woodlands, and especially beside the sea. with the advent of the motor-car and other swift means of locomotion, the public roads are no longer safe and pleasurable for pedestrians; besides the iniquitous fact that hundreds are kept from enjoying the beauties of nature by the utterly selfish and useless reservations of such by-paths by the landowner. "this all-embracing system of land-robbery," again he writes, "for which nothing is too great or too small; which has absorbed meadow and forest, moor and mountain, which has appropriated most of our rivers and lakes and the fish that live in them; making the agriculturist pay for his seaweed manure and the fisherman for his bait of shell-fish; which has desolated whole counties to replace men by sheep or cattle, and has destroyed fields and cottages to make a wilderness for deer and grouse; which has stolen the commons and filched the roadside wastes; which has driven the labouring poor into the cities, and thus been the chief cause of the misery, disease, and early death of thousands ... it is the advocates of this inhuman system who, when a partial restitution of their unholy gains is proposed, are the loudest in their cries of 'robbery'! "but all the robbery, all the spoliation, all the legal and illegal filching, has been on _their_ side.... they made the laws to legalise their actions, and, some day, we, the people, will make laws which will not only legalise but justify our process of restitution. it will justify it, because, unlike their laws, which always took from the poor to give to the rich--to the very class which made the laws--ours will only take from the superfluity of the rich, _not_ to give to the poor or to any individuals, but to so administer as to enable every man to live by honest work, to restore to the whole people their birthright in their native soil, and to relieve all alike from a heavy burden of unnecessary and unjust taxation. _this_ will be the true statesmanship of the future, and it will be justified alike by equity, by ethics, and by religion." these, then, are the facts and reasons upon which dr. wallace based his strenuous advocacy of land nationalisation.[ ] it was only by slow degrees that he arrived at some of the conclusions propounded in his later years, but once having grasped their full importance to the social and moral well-being of the community, he held them to the last. the first book which tended to fasten his attention upon these matters was "social statics," by herbert spencer, but in the publication of his "malay archipelago" brought him into personal contact with john stuart mill, through whose invitation he became a member of the general committee of the land tenure reform association. on the formation of the land nationalisation society in he retired from the association, and devoted himself to the larger issues which the new society embraced. soon after the latter society was started, henry george, the american author of "progress and poverty," came to england, and wallace had many opportunities of hearing him speak in public and of discussing matters of common interest in private. in spite of the ridicule poured upon henry george's book by many eminent social reformers, wallace consistently upheld its general principles. his second work on these various subjects was a small book entitled "bad times," issued in , in which he went deeply into the root causes of the depression in trade which had lasted since . the facts there given were enlarged upon and continually brought up to date in his later writings. articles which had appeared in various magazines were gathered together and included, with those on other subjects, in "studies, scientific and social." his last three books, which include his ideas on social diseases and the best method of preventing them, were "the wonderful century," "social environment and moral progress," and "the revolt of democracy"; the two last being issued, as we have seen, in , the year of his death. in "social environment and moral progress" the conclusion of his vehement survey of our moral and social conditions was startling: "_it is not too much to say that our whole system of society is rotten from top to bottom, and that the social environment as a whole in relation to our possibilities and our claims is the worst that the world has ever seen_." that terrible indictment was doubly underscored in his ms. what, in his mature judgment, were the causes and remedies? he set them out in this order: . the evils are due, broadly and generally, to our living under a system of universal competition for the means of existence, the remedy for which is equally universal co-operation. . it may also be defined as a system of economic antagonism, as of enemies, the remedy being a system of economic brotherhood, as of a great family, or of friends. . our system is also one of monopoly by a few of all the means of existence--the land, without access to which no life is possible; and capital, or the results of stored-up labour, which is now in the possession of a limited number of capitalists, and therefore is also a monopoly. the remedy is freedom of access to land and capital for all. . also, it may be defined as social injustice, inasmuch as the few in each generation are allowed to inherit the stored-up wealth of all preceding generations, while the many inherit nothing. the remedy is to adopt the principle of equality of opportunity for all, or of universal _inheritance by the state in trust for the whole community_. "we have," he finally concluded, "ourselves created an immoral or unmoral social environment. to undo its inevitable results we must reverse our course. we must see that _all_ our economic legislation, _all_ our social reforms, are in the very opposite direction to those hitherto adopted, and that they tend in the direction of one or other of the four fundamental remedies i have suggested. in this way only can we hope to change our existing immoral environment into a moral one, and _initiate a new era of moral progress._" the "revolt of democracy"[ ] was addressed directly to the labour party. and once again he drew a vivid picture of how, during the whole of the nineteenth century, there was a continuous advance in the application of scientific discovery to the arts, especially to the invention and application of labour-saving machinery; and how our wealth had increased to an equally marvellous extent. he pointed out that various estimates which had been made of the increase in our wealth-producing capacity showed that, roughly speaking, the use of mechanical power had increased it more than a hundredfold during the century; yet the result had been to create a limited upper class, living in unexampled luxury, while about one-fourth of the whole population existed in a state of fluctuating penury, often sinking below the margin of poverty. many thousands were annually drawn into this gulf of destitution, and died from direct starvation and premature exhaustion or from diseases produced by unhealthy employment. during this long period, however, although wealth and want had alike increased side by side, public opinion had not been sufficiently educated to permit of any effectual remedy being applied. the workers themselves had failed to visualise its fundamental causes, land monopoly and the competitive system of industry giving rise to an ever-increasing private capitalism which, to a very large extent, had controlled the legislature. all through the last century this rapid accumulation of wealth due to extensive manufacturing industries led to a still greater increase of middlemen engaged in the distribution of the products, from the wealthy merchant to the various grades of tradesmen and small shop-keepers who supplied the daily wants of the community. to those who lived in the midst of this vast industrial system, or were a part of it, it seemed natural and inevitable that there should be rich and poor; and this belief was enforced on the one hand by the clergy, and on the other by political economists, so that religion and science agreed in upholding the competitive and capitalistic system of society as the only rational and possible one. hence it came to be believed that the true sphere of governmental action did not include the abolition of poverty. it was even declared that poverty was due to economic causes over which governments had no power; that wages were kept down by the "iron law" of supply and demand; and that any attempt to find a remedy by acts of parliament only aggravated the disease. during the premiership of sir henry campbell-bannerman this attitude was, for the first time, changed. on numerous occasions sir henry declared that he held it to be the duty of a government to deal with problems of unemployment and poverty. in three great strikes, coming in rapid succession--those of the railway and other transport unions, the miners, and the london dock labourers--brought home to the middle and upper classes, and to the government, how completely all are dependent on the "working classes." this and similar experiences showed us that when the organisation of the trade unions was more complete, and the accumulated funds of several years were devoted to this purpose, the bulk of the inhabitants of london, and of other great cities, could be made to suffer a degree of famine comparable with that of paris when besieged by the german army in . wallace's watchword throughout these social agitations was "equality of opportunity for all," and the ideal method by which he hoped to achieve this end was a system of industrial colonisation in our own country whereby _all_ would have a fair, if not an absolutely equal, share in the benefits arising from the production of their own labour, whether physical or mental.[ ] with regard to the education of the people, especially as a stepping-stone to moral and intellectual reform, wallace believed in the training of individual natural talent, rather than the present system of general education thrust upon every boy or girl regardless of their varying mental capacities. he also urged that the building-up of the mind should be alternated with physical training in one or more useful trades, so that there might be, not only at the outset, but also in later life, a choice of occupation in order to avoid the excess of unemployment in any one direction. in his opinion, one of the injurious results of our competitive system, having its roots, however, in the valuable "guilds" of a past epoch, was the almost universal restriction of our workers to only one kind of labour. the result was a dreadful monotony in almost all spheres of work, the extreme unhealthiness of many, and a much larger amount of unemployment than if each man or woman were regularly trained in two or more occupations. in addition to two of what are commonly called trades, every youth should be trained for one day a week or one week in a month, according to the demand for labour, in some of the various operations of farming or gardening. not only would this improve the general health of the workers, but it would also add much to the interest and enjoyment of their lives. "there is one point," he wrote, "in connection with this problem which i do not think has ever been much considered or discussed. it is the undoubted benefit to all the members of a society of _the greatest possible diversity of character_, as a means both towards the greatest enjoyment and interest of association, and to the highest ultimate development of the race. if we are to suppose that man might have been created or developed with none of those extremes of character which now often result in what we call wickedness, vice, or crime, there would certainly have been a greater monotony in human nature, which would, perhaps, have led to less beneficial results than the variety which actually exists may lead to. we are more and more getting to see that very much, perhaps all, the vice, crime, and misery that exists in the world is the result, not of the wickedness of individuals, but of the entire absence of sympathetic training from infancy onwards. so far as i have heard, the only example of the effects of such a training on a large scale was that initiated by robert owen at new lanark, which, with most unpromising materials, produced such marvellous results on the character and conduct of the children as to seem almost incredible to the numerous persons who came to see and often critically to examine them. there must have been all kinds of characters in his schools, yet _none_ were found to be incorrigible, _none_ beyond control, _none_ who did not respond to the love and sympathetic instruction of their teachers. it is therefore quite possible that _all_ the evil in the world is directly due to man, not to god, and that when we once realise this to its full extent we shall be able, not only to eliminate almost completely what we now term evil, but shall then clearly perceive that all those propensities and passions that under bad conditions of society inevitably led to it, will under good conditions add to the variety and the capacities of human nature, the enjoyment of life by all, and at the same time greatly increase the possibilities of development of the whole race. i myself feel confident that this is really the case, and that such considerations, when followed out to their ultimate issues, afford a complete solution of the great problem of the ages--the origin of evil."[ ] closely allied with the welfare of the child is another "reform" with which wallace's name will long be associated. that is his strong denunciation of vaccination. for seven years he laboured to show medical and scientific men that statistics proved beyond doubt the futility of this measure to prevent disease. a few were converted, but public opinion is hard to move. in his ideal of the future, dr. wallace gave a large and honoured sphere to women. he considered that it was in the highest degree presumptuous and irrational to attempt to deal by compulsory enactments with the most vital and most sacred of all human relationships, regardless of the fact that our present phase of social development is not only extremely imperfect, but, as already shown, vicious and rotten to the core. how could it be possible to determine by legislation those relations of the sexes which shall be best alike for individuals and for the race in a society in which a large proportion of our women are forced to work long hours daily for the barest subsistence, with an almost total absence of the rational pleasures of life, for the want of which thousands are driven into uncongenial marriages in order to secure some amount of personal independence or physical well-being. he believed that when men and women are, for the first time in the course of civilisation, equally free to follow their best impulses; when idleness and vicious and hurtful luxury on the one hand, and oppressive labour and the dread of starvation on the other, are alike unknown; when _all_ receive the best and broadest education that the state of civilisation and knowledge will admit; when the standard of public opinion is set by the wisest and the best among us, and that standard is systematically inculcated in the young--then we shall find that a system of truly "natural selection" (a term that wallace preferred to "eugenics," which he utterly disliked) will come spontaneously into action which will tend steadily to eliminate the lower, the less developed, or in any way defective types of men, and will thus continuously raise the physical, moral, and intellectual standard of the race. he further held that "although many women now remain unmarried from necessity rather than from choice, there are always considerable numbers who feel no strong impulse to marriage, and accept husbands to secure subsistence and a home of their own rather than from personal affection or sexual emotion. in a state of society in which all women were economically independent, where all were fully occupied with public duties and social or intellectual pleasures, and had nothing to gain by marriage as regards material well-being or social position, it is highly probable that the numbers of unmarried from choice would increase. it would probably come to be considered a degradation for any woman to marry a man whom she could not love and esteem, and this reason would tend at least to delay marriage till a worthy and sympathetic partner was encountered." but this choice, he considered, would be further strengthened by the fact that, with the ever-increasing approach to equality of opportunity for every child born in our country, that terrible excess of male deaths, in boyhood and early manhood especially, due to various preventable causes, would disappear, and change the present majority of women to a majority of men. this would lead to a greater rivalry for wives, and give to women the power of rejecting all the lower types of character among their suitors. "it will be their special duty so to mould public opinion, through home training and social influence, as to render the women of the future the regenerators of the entire human race." he fully hoped and believed that they would prove equal to the high and responsible position which, in accordance with natural laws, they will be called upon to fulfil. * * * * * mr. d.a. wilson, who visited him in , writes: he surprised me by saying he was a socialist--one does not expect a man like him to label himself in any way. it appeared to be unconscious modesty, like a school-boy's, which made him willing to be labelled; but no label could describe him, and his mental sweep was unlimited. although in his ninetieth year, he seemed to be in his prime. there was no sign of age but physical weakness, and you had to make an effort at times to remember even that. his eye kindled as he spoke, and more than once he walked about and chuckled, like a schoolboy pleased. an earnest expression like carlyle's came over his countenance as he reprobated the selfish, wild-cat competition which made life harder and more horrible to-day for a well-doing poor man in england than among the malays or burmese before they had any modern inventions. co-operation was the upward road for humanity. men grew out of beasthood by it, and by it civilisation began. forgetting it, men retrograded, subsiding swiftly, so that there were many individuals among us to-day who were in body, mind, and character below the level of our barbarian ancestors or contemporary "savages," to say nothing of civilised burmese or malays. what he meant by socialism can be seen from his books. nothing in them surprised me after our talk. his appreciation of confucius, when i quoted some things of the chinese sage's which confirmed what he was saying, was emphatic, and that and many other things showed that socialism to him implied the upward evolution of humanity. it was because of the degradation of men involved that he objected to letting individuals grab the public property--earth, air and water. monopolies, he thought, should at once revert to the public, and we had an argument which showed that he had no objection to even artificial monopolies if they were public property. he defended the old dutch government monopolies of spices, and declared them better than to-day's free trade, when cultivation is exploited by men who always tended to be mere money-grabbers, selfish savages let loose. in answer i mentioned the abuses of officialdom, as seen by me from the inside in burma, and he agreed that the mental and moral superiority of many kinds of asiatics to the europeans who want to boss them made detailed european administration an absurdity. we should leave these peoples to develop in their own way. having conquered burma and india, he proceeded, the english should take warning from history and restrict themselves to keeping the peace, and protecting the countries they had taken. they should give every province as much home rule as possible and as soon as possible, and study to avoid becoming parasites.--d.a.w. * * * * * we may fittingly conclude this brief summary of wallace's social views and ideals by citing his own reply to the question: "why am i a socialist?" "i am a socialist because i believe that the highest law for mankind is justice. i therefore take for my motto, 'fiat justitia, ruat coelum'; and my definition of socialism is, 'the use, by everyone, of his faculties for the common good, and the voluntary organisation of labour for the equal benefit of all.' that is absolute social justice; that is ideal socialism. it is, therefore, the guiding star for all true social reform." * * * * * he corresponded with miss buckley not only on scientific but also on public questions and social problems: to miss buckley _rosehill, dorking. sunday, [? december, ]._ dear miss buckley,-- ... how wonderfully the russians have got on since you left! a very little more and the turkish government might be turned out of europe--even now it might be with the greatest ease if our government would join in giving them the last kick. whatever power they retain in europe will most certainly involve another war before twenty years are over.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _waldron edge, croydon. may , ._ dear miss buckley,-- ... my "reciprocity" article seems to have produced a slight effect on the _spectator_, though it did snub me at first, but it is perfectly sickening to read the stuff spoken and written, in parliament and in all the newspapers, about the subject, all treating our present practice as something holy and immutable, whatever bad effects it may produce, and though it is not in any way "free trade" and would i believe have been given up both by adam smith and cobden.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * he was always ready, even eager, to discuss his social and land nationalisation principles with his scientific friends, with members of his own family, and indeed with anyone who would lend a willing ear. herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _ queen's gardens, bayswater, w. april , ._ dear mr. wallace,--as you may suppose, i fully sympathise with the general aims of your proposed land nationalisation society; but for sundry reasons i hesitate to commit myself, at the present stage of the question, to a programme so definite as that which you send me. it seems to me that before formulating the idea in a specific shape it is needful to generate a body of public opinion on the general issue, and that it must be some time before there can be produced such recognition of the general principle involved as is needful before definite plans can be set forth to any purpose....--truly yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * herbert spencer to a.r. wallace _ queen's gardens, bayswater, w. july , ._ dear mr. wallace,--i have already seen the work you name, "progress and poverty," having had a copy, or rather two copies, sent me. i gathered from what little i glanced at that i should fundamentally disagree with the writer, and have not read more. i demur entirely to the supposition, which is implied in the book, that by any possible social arrangements whatever the distress which humanity has to suffer in the course of civilisation could have been prevented. the whole process, with all its horrors and tyrannies, and slaveries, and wars, and abominations of all kinds, has been an inevitable one accompanying the survival and spread of the strongest, and the consolidation of small tribes into large societies; and among other things the lapse of land into private ownership has been, like the lapse of individuals into slavery, at one period of the process altogether indispensable. i do not in the least believe that from the primitive system of communistic ownership to a high and finished system of state ownership, such as we may look for in the future, there could be any transition without passing through such stages as we have seen and which exist now. argument aside, however, i should be disinclined to commit myself to any scheme of immediate action, which, as i have indicated to you, i believe at present premature. for myself i feel that i have to consider not only what i may do on special questions, but also how the action i take on special questions may affect my general influence; and i am disinclined to give more handles against me than are needful. already, as you will see by the enclosed circular, i am doing in the way of positive action more than may be altogether prudent.--sincerely yours, herbert spencer. * * * * * a.r. wallace to mr. a.c. swinton _frith hill, godalming. december , ._ my dear swinton,-- ... i have just received an invitation to go to lecture in sydney on sundays for three months, with an intimation that other lectures can be arranged for in melbourne and new zealand. it is tempting!... if i had the prospect of clearing £ , by a lecturing campaign i would go, though it would require a great effort.... i did not think it possible even to contemplate going so far again, but the chance of earning a lot of money which would enable me to clear off this house and leave something for my family must be seriously considered.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss violet wallace _parkstone, dorset. may_ , . my dear violet,-- ... i am quite in favour of a legal eight hours' day. overtime need not be forbidden, but every man who works overtime should have a legal claim to double wages for the extra hours. that would make it cheaper for the master to employ two sets of men working each eight hours when they had long jobs requiring them, while for the necessities of finishing contracts, etc., they could well afford to pay double for the extra hours. "it would make everything dearer!" of course it would! how else can you produce a more equal distribution of wealth than by making the rich and idle pay more and the workers receive more? "the workers would have to pay more, too, for everything they bought!" true again, but what they paid more would not equal their extra earnings, because a large portion of the extra pay to the men will be paid by the rich, and only the remainder paid by the men themselves. the eight hours' day and double pay for overtime would not only employ thousands now out of work, but would actually raise wages per hour and per day. this is clear, because wages are kept down wholly by the surplus supply of labour in every trade. the moment the surplus is used up, or nearly so, by more men being required on account of shorter hours, competition among the men becomes less; among the employers, for men, more: hence necessarily higher wages all round. as to the bogey of foreign competition, it is a bogey only. all the political economists agree that if wages are raised in all trades, it will not in the least affect our power to export goods as profitably as now. look and see! and, secondly, the eight hours' movement is an international one, and will affect all alike in the end. there are some arguments for you! poor unreasoning infant!!... * * * * * rev. augustus jessopp to a.r. wallace _scarning rectory, east dereham. august , ._ my dear mr. wallace,--i have put off writing to thank you for your kind letter, and the book and pamphlets you were good enough to send me, because i hoped in acknowledgment to say i had read your little volumes, as i intend to. the fates have been against me, and i will delay no longer thanking you for sending them to me. i do not believe in your theory of land nationalisation one bit! but i like to see all that such a man as you has to say on his side. in return i send you my view of the matter, which is just as likely to convert you as your book is to convert me. i love a man with a theory, for i learn most from such a man, and when i have thought a thing out in my own mind and forgotten the arguments while i have arrived at a firm conviction as to the conclusion, it is refreshing to be reminded of points and facts that have slipped away from me! it was a great pleasure and privilege to make your acquaintance the other day, and i hope we may meet again some day.--very truly yours, augustus jessopp. * * * * * rev. h. price hughes to a.r. wallace _ taviton street, gordon square, w.c. september , ._ dear dr. wallace,--i am always very glad when i hear from you. so far as your intensely interesting volume has compelled some very prejudiced people to read your attack on modern delusions, it is a great gain, especially to themselves. i have read your tract on "justice, not charity," with great pleasure and approval. the moment mr. benjamin kidd invented the striking term of "equality of opportunity" i adopted it, and have often preached it in the pulpit and on the platform, just as you preach it in the tract before me. i fully agree that justice, not charity, is the fundamental principle of social reform. there is something very contemptible in the spiteful way in which many newspapers and magistrates are trying to aggravate the difficulties of conscientious men who avail themselves of the conscience clause in the new vaccination act. there is very much to be done yet before social justice is realised, but the astonishing manifesto of the czar of russia, which i have no doubt is a perfectly sincere one, is a revelation of the extent to which social truth is leavening european society. since i last wrote to you i have been elected president of the wesleyan methodist conference, which will give me a great deal of special work and special opportunities also, i am thankful to say, of propagating social christianity, which in fact, and to a great extent in form, is what you yourself are doing.--yours very sincerely, h. price hughes. * * * * * to alfred russell _parkstone, dorset. may , ._ dear sir,--i am not a vegetarian, but i believe in it as certain to be adopted in the future, and as essential to a higher social and moral state of society. my reasons are: ( ) that far less land is needed to supply vegetable than to supply animal food. ( ) that the business of a butcher is, and would be, repulsive to all refined natures. ( ) that with proper arrangements for variety and good cookery, vegetable food is better for health of body and mind.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. john (lord) morley _parkstone, dorset, october , ._ dear sir,--i look upon you as the one politician left to us, who, by his ability and integrity, his eloquence and love of truth, his high standing as a thinker and writer, and his openness of mind, is able to become the leader of the english people in their struggle for freedom against the monopolists of land, capital, and political power. i therefore take the liberty of sending you herewith a book of mine containing a number of miscellaneous essays, a few of which, i venture to think, are worthy of your serious attention. some time since you intimated in one of your speeches that, if the choice for this country were between imperialism and socialism, you were inclined to consider the latter the less evil of the two. you added, i think, your conviction that the dangers of socialism to human character were what most influenced you against it. i trust that my impression of what you said is substantially correct. now i myself believe, after a study of the subject extending over twenty years, that this danger is non-existent, and certainly does not in any way apply to the fundamental principles of socialism, which is, simply, _the voluntary organisation of labour for the good of all_....--with great esteem, i am yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * mr. john (lord) morley to a.r. wallace _ elm park gardens, s.w. october , ._ my dear sir,--for some reason, though your letter is dated the th, it has only reached me, along with the two volumes, to-day. i feel myself greatly indebted to you for both. in older days i often mused upon a passage of yours in the "malay archipelago" contrasting the condition of certain types of savage life with that of life in a modern industrial city. and i shall gladly turn again to the subject in these pages, new to me, where you come to close quarters with the problem. but my time and my mind are at present neither of them free for the effective consideration of this mighty case. nor can i promise myself the requisite leisure for at least several months to come. what i can do is to set your arguments a-simmering in my brain, and perhaps when the time of liberation arrives i may be in a state to make something of it. i don't suppose that i shall be a convert, but i always remember j.s. mill's observation, after recapitulating the evils to be apprehended from socialism, that he would face them in spite of all, if the only alternative to socialism were our present state.--with sincere thanks and regard, believe me yours faithfully john morley. * * * * * to mr. c.g. stuart-menteith _parkstone, dorset. june , ._ dear sir,--i have no time to discuss your letter[ ] at any length. you seem to assume that we can say definitely who are the "fit" and who the "unfit." i deny this, except in the most extreme cases. i believe that, even now, the race is mostly recruited by the _more fit_--that is the upper working classes and the lower middle classes. both the very rich and the very poor are probably--as classes--below these. the former increase less rapidly through immorality and late marriage; the latter through excessive infant mortality. if that is the case, no legislative interference is needed, and would probably do harm. i see nothing in your letter which is really opposed to my contention--that under rational social conditions the healthy instincts of men and women will solve the population problem far better than any tinkering interference either by law or by any other means. and in the meantime the condition of things is not so bad as you suppose.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. sydney cockerell _broadstone, wimborne. january , ._ dear mr. cockerell,--i have now finished reading kropotkin's life with very great interest, especially for the light it throws on the present condition of russia. it also brings out clearly some very fine aspects of the russian character, and the horrible despotism to which they are still subject, equivalent to that of the days of the bastille and the system of _lettres de cachet_ before the great revolution in france. it seems to me probable that under happier conditions--perhaps in the not distant future--russia may become the most advanced instead of the most backward in civilisation--a real leader among nations, not in war and conquest but in social reform.--yours faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. j. hyder (of the land nationalisation society) _broadstone, wimborne. may , ._ dear mr. hyder,--although it is not safe to hallo before one is out of the wood, i think i may congratulate the society upon the prospect it now has of obtaining the first-fruits of its persistent efforts, for a quarter of a century, to form an enlightened public opinion in favour of our views. if the government adequately fulfils its promises, we shall have, in the bill for a fair valuation of land apart from improvements, as a basis of taxation and for purchase, and that giving local authorities full powers to acquire land so valued, the first real and definite steps towards complete nationalisation.... alfred r. wallace, * * * * * to mr. a. wiltshire[ ] _broadstone, wimborne. october , ._ dear sir,--i told mr. button that i do not approve of the resolution you are going to move.[ ] the workers of england have themselves returned a large majority of ordinary liberals, including hundreds of capitalists, landowners, manufacturers, and lawyers, with only a sprinkling of radicals and socialists. the government--your own elected government--is doing more for the workers than any liberal government ever did before, yet you are going to pass what is practically a vote of censure on it for not being a radical, labour, and socialist government! if this government attempted to do what you and i think ought to be done, it would lose half its followers and be turned out, ignominiously, giving the tories another chance. that is foolish as well as unfair.--yours truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to lord avebury _broadstone, wimborne. june , ._ dear lord avebury,-- ... allow me to wish every success to your bill for preserving beautiful birds from destruction. to stop the import is the only way--short of the still more drastic method of heavily fining everyone who wears feathers in public, with imprisonment for a second offence. but we are not yet ripe for that.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. to mr. e. smedley _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. december , ._ dear mr. smedley,--thanks for your long and interesting letter.... man is, and has been, horribly cruel, and it is indeed difficult to explain why. yet that there is an explanation, and that it does lead to good in the end, i believe. praying is evidently useless, and should be, as it is almost always selfish--for _our_ benefit, or our _families_, or our _nation_.--yours very truly, alfred e. wallace. * * * * * to mr. w.g. wallace _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. august , ._ my dear will,-- ... the railway strike surpasses the parliament bill in excitement. on receipt of friday's paper, i sat down and composed and sent off to lloyd george a short but big letter, on large foolscap paper, urging him and asquith, as the two strong men of the government, to take over at once the management of the railways of the entire country, by royal proclamation--on the ground of mismanagement for seventy years, and having brought the country to the verge of starvation and civil war; to grant an amnesty to all strikers (except for acts of violence), also grant all the men's demands for one year, and devote that time to a deliberate and impartial inquiry and a complete scheme of reorganisation of the railways in the interest, first of the public, then of the men of all grades, lastly of the share and bond owners, who will become guaranteed public creditors.... it has been admitted and proved again and again, that the men are badly treated, that their grievances are real--their very unanimity and standing by each other proves it. their demands are most moderate; and the cost in extra wages will be saved over and over in safety, regularity, economy of working, and public convenience. i have not had even an acknowledgment of receipt yet, but hope to in a day or two.... * * * * * mr. h.m. hyndman to a.r. wallace _ queen anne's gate, westminster, s.w. march , ._ dear sir,--everyone who knows anything of the record of modern science in this country recognises how very much we all owe to you. it was, therefore, specially gratifying to me that you should be so kind as to write such a very encouraging letter on the occasion of my seventieth birthday. i owe you sincere thanks for what you said, though i may honestly feel that you overpraised what i have done. it has been an uphill fight, but i am lucky in being allowed to see through the smoke and dust of battle a vision of the promised land. the transformation from capitalism to socialism is going on slowly under our eyes. again thanking you and wishing you every good wish, believe me yours sincerely, h.m. hyndman. * * * * * to mr. m.j. murphy _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. august , ._ dear sir,--i not only think but firmly believe that lloyd george is working for the good of the people, in all ways open to him. the wonder is that he can persuade asquith and the cabinet to let him go as far as he does. no doubt he is obliged to do things he does not think the best absolutely, but the best that are practicable. he does not profess to be a socialist, and he is not infallible, but he does the best he can, under the conditions in which he finds himself. socialists who condemn him for not doing more are most unfair. they must know, if they think, that if he tried to do much more towards socialism he would break up the government and let in the tories.--yours truly, a.r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. a. wiltshire _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. september , ._ dear sir,--i wish you every success in your work for the amelioration of the condition of the workers, through whose exertions it may be truly said we all live and move and have our being. your motto is excellent. above all things stick together. equally important is it to declare as a fixed principle that wages are to be and must be continuously raised, never lowered. you have too much arrears to make up--too many forces against you, to admit of their being ever lowered. let future generations decide when that is necessary--if ever. this is a principle worth enforcing by a general strike. nothing less will be effective--nothing less should be accepted; and you must let the government know it, and insist that they adopt it. the rise must always be towards uniformity of payment for all useful and productive work.--yours sincerely, alfred e. wallace. part vi some further problems i.--astronomy of the varied subjects upon which wallace wrote, none, perhaps, came with greater freshness to the general reader than his books written when he was nearly eighty upon the ancient science of astronomy. perhaps he would have said that the "directive mind and purpose" kept these subjects back until the closing years of his life in order that he might bring to bear upon them his wider knowledge of nature, enlightened by that spiritual perception which led him to link the heavens and the earth in one common bond of evolution, culminating in the development of moral and spiritual intelligences. "man's place in the universe" ( ) was in effect a prelude to "the world of life" ( ). wallace saw afterwards that one grew out of the other, as we find him frequently saying with regard to his other books and essays. as with spiritualism, so with astronomy, the seed-interest practically lay dormant in his mind for many years; with this difference, however, that temperament and training caused a speedy unfolding of his mind when once a scientific subject gripped him, whereas with spiritualism he felt the need of moving slowly and cautiously before fully accepting the phenomena as verifiable facts. it was during the later period of his land-surveying, when he was somewhere between the ages of and , that he became distinctly interested in the stars. being left much alone at this period, he began to vary his pursuits by studying a book on nautical astronomy, and constructing a rude telescope.[ ] this primitive appliance increased his interest in other astronomical instruments, and especially in the grand onward march of astronomical discovery, which he looked upon as one of the wonders of the nineteenth century. it was the inclusion of astronomy in lectures he delivered at davos which led him to extend his original brief notes into the four chapters which form an important part of his "wonderful century." he freely confessed that in order to write these chapters he was obliged to read widely, and to make much use of friends to whom astronomy was a more familiar study. and it was whilst he was engaged upon these chapters that his attention became riveted upon the unique position of our planet in relation to the solar system. he had noticed that certain definite conditions appeared to be absolutely essential to the origin and development of the higher types of terrestrial life, and that most of these must have been certainly dependent on a very delicate balance of the forces concerned in the evolution of our planet. our position in the solar system appeared to him to be peculiar and unique because, he thought, we may be almost sure that these conditions do not coexist on any other planet, and that we have no good reason to believe that other planets could have maintained over a period of millions of years the complex and equable conditions absolutely necessary to the existence of the higher forms of terrestrial life. therefore it appeared to him to be proved that our earth does really stand alone in the solar system by reason of its special adaptation for the development of human life. granting this, however, the question might still be asked, why should not any one of the suns in other parts of space possess planets as well adapted as our own to develop the higher forms of organic life? these questions cannot be answered definitely; but there are reasons, he considered, why the central position which we occupy may alone be suitable. it is almost certain that electricity and other mysterious radiant forces (of which we have so recently discovered the existence) have played an important part in the origin and development of organised life, and it does not appear to be extravagant to assume that the extraordinary way in which these cosmic forces have remained hidden from us may be due to that central position which we are found to occupy in the whole universe of matter discoverable by us. indeed, it may well be that these wonderful forces of the ether are more irregular--and perhaps more violent--in their effect upon matter in what may be termed the outer chambers of that universe, and that they are only so nicely balanced, so uniform in their action, and so concealed from us, as to be fit to aid in the development of organic life in that central portion of the stellar system which our globe occupies. should these views as to the unique central position of our earth be supported by the results of further research, it will certainly rank as the most extraordinary and perhaps the most important of the many discoveries of the past century. while still working on this section of his "wonderful century," he was asked to write a scientific article, upon any subject of his own choice, for the _new york independent_. and as the idea of the unique position of the earth to be the abode of human life was fresh in his mind, he thought it would prove interesting to the general public. however, before his article appeared simultaneously in the american papers and in the _fortnightly review_, a friend who read it was so impressed with its originality and treatment that he persuaded wallace to enlarge it into book form; and it appeared in the autumn of as "man's place in the universe." this fascinating treatise upon the position occupied by the earth, and man, in the universe, had the same effect as some of his former writings, of drawing forth unstinted commendation from many religious and secular papers; whilst the severely scientific and materialistic reviewers doubted how far his imagination had superseded unbiased reason. on one point, however, most outsiders were in agreement--that he had invested an ancient subject with freshest interest through approaching it by an entirely new way. the plan followed was that of bringing together all the positive conclusions of the astronomer, the geologist, the physicist, and the biologist, and by weighing these carefully in the balance he arrived at what appeared to him to be the only reasonable conclusion. he therefore set out to solve the problem whether or not the logical inferences to be drawn from the various results of modern science lent support to the view that our earth is the only inhabited planet, not only in our own solar system, but in the whole stellar universe. in the course of his close and careful exposition he takes the reader through the whole trend of modern scientific research, concluding with a summing-up of his deductions in the following six propositions, in the first three of which he sets out the conclusions reached by modern astronomers: ( ) that the stellar universe forms one connected whole; and, though of enormous extent, is yet finite, and its extent determinable. ( ) that the solar system is situated in the plane of the milky way, and not far removed from the centre of that plane. the earth is, therefore, nearly in the centre of the stellar universe. ( ) that this universe consists throughout of the same kinds of matter, and is subjected to the same physical and chemical laws. the conclusions which i claim to have shown to have enormous probabilities in their favour are: ( ) that no other planet in the solar system than our earth is inhabited or habitable. ( ) that the probabilities are almost as great against any other sun possessing inhabited planets. ( ) that the nearly central position of our sun is probably a permanent one, and has been specially favourable, perhaps absolutely essential, to life-development on the earth. wallace never maintained that this earth alone in the whole universe is the abode of life. what he maintained was, first, that our solar system appears to be in or near the centre of the visible universe, and, secondly, that all the available evidence supports the idea of the extreme unlikelihood of there being on any star or planet revealed by the telescope any intelligent life either identical with or analogous to man. to suppose that this one particular type of universe extends over all space was, he considered, to have a low idea of the creator and his power. such a scheme would mean monotony instead of infinite variety, the keynote of things as they are known to us. there might be a million universes, but all different. to his mind there was no difficulty in believing in the existence of consciousness apart from material organism; though he could not readily conceive of pure mind, or pure spirit, apart from some kind of substantial envelope or substratum. many of the views suggested in "man's place in the universe" as to man's spiritual progress hereafter, the reason or ultimate purpose for which he was brought into existence, were enlarged upon, later, in "the world of life." as early, however, as , wallace did not hesitate to express his own firm conviction that science and spiritualism were in many ways closely akin. he believed that the near future would show the strong tendency of scientists to become more religious or spiritual. the process, he thought, would be slow, as the general attitude has never been more materialistic than now. a few have been bold enough to assert their belief in some outside power, but the leading scientific men are, as a rule, dead against them. "they seem," he once remarked, "to think, and to like to think, that the whole phenomena of life will one day be reduced to terms of matter and motion, and that every vegetable, animal, and human product will be explained, and may some day be artificially produced, by chemical action. but even if this were so, behind it all there would still remain an unexplained mystery." closely associated with "man's place in the universe" is a small volume, "is mars habitable?" this was first commenced as a review of professor percival lowell's book, "mars and its canals," with the object of showing that the large amount of new and interesting facts contained in this work did not invalidate the conclusion that he (wallace) had reached in --that mars is not habitable. the conclusions to which his argument led him were these: ( ) all physicists are agreed that ... mars would have a mean temperature of about ° f. owing to its distance from the sun. ( ) but the very low temperatures on the earth under the equator at a height where the barometer stands at about three times as high as on mars, proves that from scantiness of atmosphere alone mars cannot possibly have a temperature as high as the freezing-point of water. the combination of these two results must bring down the temperature of mars to a degree wholly incompatible with the existence of animal life. ( ) the quite independent proof that water-vapour cannot exist on mars, and that, therefore, the first essential of organic life--water--is non-existent. the conclusion from these three independent proofs ... is therefore irresistible--that animal life, especially in its highest forms, cannot exist. mars, therefore, is not only uninhabited by intelligent beings ... but is absolutely uninhabitable. * * * * * in contrast to his purely scientific interest in astronomy, wallace was moved by the romance of the "stars," akin to his enthusiastic love of beautiful butterflies. had it not been for this touch of romance and idealism in his writings on astronomy, they would have lost much of their charm for the general reader. his breadth of vision transforms him from a mere student of astronomy into a seer who became ever more deeply conscious of the mystery both "before and behind." "rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows; sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows? from the great deep to the great deep he goes." and whilst facing with brave and steady mind the great mysteries of earth and sky, of life and what lies beyond it, he himself loved to quote: "fear not thou the hidden purpose of that power which alone is great, nor the myriad world his shadow, nor the silent opener of the gate." among the scientific friends to whom he appealed for help when writing his astronomical books was prof. (now sir) w.f. barrett. * * * * * to prof. barrett _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ my dear barrett,--i shall be much obliged if you will give me your opinion on a problem in physics that i cannot find answered in any book. it relates to the old nebular hypothesis, and is this: it is assumed that the matter of the solar system was once wholly gaseous, and extended as a roughly globular or lenticular mass beyond the orbit of neptune. sir robert ball stated in a lecture here that even when the solar nebula had shrunk to the size of the earth's orbit it must have been (i think he said) hundreds of times rarer than the residual gas in one of crookes's high vacuum tubes. yet, by hypothesis, it was hot enough, even in its outer portions, to retain all the solid elements in the gaseous state. now, admitting this to be _possible_ at any given epoch, my difficulty is this: how long could the outer parts of this nebula exist, exposed to the zero temperature of surrounding space, without losing the gaseous state and aggregating into minute solid particles--into meteoric dust, in fact? could it exist an hour? a day? a year? a century? yet the process of condensation from the neptunian era to that of saturn or jupiter must surely have occupied millions of centuries. what kept the almost infinitely rare metallic gases in the gaseous state all this time? is such a condition of things physically possible? i cannot myself imagine any such condition of things as the supposed primitive solar nebula as possibly coming into existence under any conceivably antecedent conditions, but, granted that it did come into existence, it seems to me that the gaseous state must almost instantly begin changing into the solid state. hence i adopt the meteoric theory instead of the nebular; since all the evidence is in favour of solid matter being abundant all through known space, while there is no evidence of metallic gases existing in space, except as the result of collisions of huge masses of matter. is my difficulty a mare's nest?--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mrs. fisher _broadstone, wimborne. february , ._ dear mrs. fisher,--thanks for your letter. am sorry i have not converted you, but perhaps it will come yet! i will only make one remark as to your conclusion. i have not attempted to prove a negative! that is not necessary. what i claim to have done is, to have shown that all the evidence we have, be it much or little, is decidedly against not only other solar planets having inhabitants, but also, as far as probabilities are concerned, equally against it in any supposed stellar planets--for not one has been proved to exist. there is absolutely no evidence which shows even a probability of there being other inhabited worlds. it is all pure speculation, depending upon our ideas as to what the universe is for, as to what _we_ think (some of us!) _ought_ to be! that is not evidence, even of the flimsiest. all i maintain is that mine _is_ evidence, founded on physical probabilities, and that, as against no evidence at all--no proved physical probability--mine holds the field!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. e. smedley _broadstone, dorset. july , ._ dear mr. smedley,-- ... i write chiefly to tell you that i have read mr. lowell's last book, "mars and its canals," and am now writing an article, or perhaps a small book, about it. i am sure his theories are all wrong, and i am showing why, so that anyone can see his fallacies. his observations, drawings, photographs, etc., are all quite right, and i believe true to nature, but his interpretation of what he sees is wrong--often even to absurdity. he began by thinking the straight lines are works of art, and as he finds more and more of these straight lines, he thinks that proves more completely that they are works of art, and then he twists all other evidence to suit that. the book is not very well written, but no doubt the newspaper men think that as he is such a great astronomer he must know what it all means! i am more than ever convinced that mars is totally uninhabitable....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. barrett _broadstone, wimborne. august , ._ my dear barrett,--thanks for your letter, and your friend prof. stroud's. i have come to the sad conclusion that it is hopeless to get any mathematician to trouble himself to track out lowell's obscurities and fallacies.... so, being driven on to my own resources, i have worked out a mode of estimating (within limits) the temperature of mars, without any mathematical formulæ--and only a little arithmetic. i want to know if there is any fallacy in it, and therefore take the liberty of sending it to you, as you are taking your holiday, just to read it over and tell me if you see any flaw in it. i also send my short summary of lowell's _philosophical magazine_ paper, so that you can see if my criticism at the end is fair, and whether his words really mean what to me they seem to....--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. f. birch _sept. , ._ dear fred,-- ... for the last two or three months i have had a hard struggle with mars--not the god of war, but the planet--writing a small book, chiefly criticising lowell's last book, called "mars and its canals," published less than a year back by macmillan, who will also publish my reply. _i_ think it is crushing, but it has cost me a deal of trouble, as lowell has also printed a long and complex mathematical article trying to prove that though mars receives less than half the sun-heat we do, yet it is very nearly as warm and quite habitable! but his figures and arguments are alike so shaky and involved that i cannot get any of my mathematical friends to tackle it or point out his errors. however, i think i have done it myself by the rules of common sense....--your sincere friend, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. h. jamyn brooke _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. december , ._ dear sir,--your "monistic" system is to me a system of mere contradictory words. you begin with three things--then you say they are correlated with one substance--coextensive with the universe. this you cannot possibly know, and it is about as intelligible and as likely to be true as the athanasian creed!--yours truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prop. knight _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. october , ._ dear mr. knight,--i have written hardly anything on the direct proofs of "immortality" except in my book on "miracles and modern spiritualism," and also in "my life," vol. ii. but my two works, "man's place in the universe" (now published at s.), and my later volume, "the world of life," form together a very elaborate, and i think conclusive, scientific argument in favour of the view that the whole material universe exists and is designed for the production of immortal spirits, in the greatest possible diversity of nature, and character, corresponding with ... the almost infinite diversity of that universe, in all its parts and in every detail....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. p.s.--i am fairly well, but almost past work.--a.r.w. * * * * * to sir oliver lodge _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. october , ._ dear sir oliver lodge,--owing to ill-health and other causes i have only now been able to finish the perusal of your intensely interesting and instructive address to the british association. i cannot, however, refrain from writing to you to express my admiration of it, and especially of the first half of it, in which you discuss the almost infinite variety and complexity of the physical problems involved in the great principle of "continuity" in so clear a manner that outsiders like myself are able to some extent to apprehend them. i am especially pleased to find that you uphold the actual existence and _continuity_ of the ether as scientifically established, and reject the doubts of some mathematicians as to the reality and perfect continuity of space and time as unthinkable. the latter part of the address is even more important, and is especially notable for your clear and positive statements as to the evidence in all life-process of a "guiding" mind. i can hardly suppose that you can have found time to read my rather discursive and laboured volume on "the world of life," written mainly for the purpose of enforcing not only the proofs of a "guiding" but also of a "foreseeing" and "designing" mind by evidence which will be thought by most men of science to be unduly strained. it is, therefore, the more interesting to me to find that you have yourself (on pp. - of your address) used the very same form of analogical illustration as i have done (at p. of "the world of life") under the heading of "a physiological allegory," as being a very close representation of what really occurs in nature. to conclude: your last paragraph rises to a height of grandeur and eloquence to which i cannot attain, but which excites my highest admiration. should you have a separate copy to spare of your romanes lecture at oxford, i should be glad to have it to refer to.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the last of wallace's letters on astronomical subjects was written to sir oliver lodge about a week before his death: to sir oliver lodges _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. october , ._ dear sir oliver lodge,--many thanks for your romanes lecture, which, owing to my ignorance of modern electrical theory and experiments, is more difficult for me than was your british association address. i have been very much interested the last month by reading a book sent me from america by mr. w.l. webb, being "an account of the unparalleled discoveries of mr. t.j.j. see." several of mr. see's own lectures are given, with references to his "researches on the evolution of the stellar systems," in two large volumes. his theory of "capture" of suns, planets, and satellites seems to me very beautifully worked out under the influence of gravitation and a resisting medium of cosmical dust--which explains the origin and motions of the moon as well as that of all the planets and satellites far better than sir g. darwin's expulsion theory. i note however that he is quite ignorant that proctor, forty years ago, gave full reasons for this "capture" theory in his "expanse of heaven," and also that the same writer showed that the milky way could not have the enormous lateral extension he gives to it, but that it cannot really be much flattened. he does not even mention the proofs given of this both by proctor and, i think, by herbert spencer, while in mr. webb's volume (opposite p. ) is a diagram showing the "coal sack" as a "vacant lane" running quite through and across the successive spiral extensions laterally of the galaxy, without any reference or a word of explanation that such features, of which there are many, really demonstrate the untenability of such extension. an even more original and extremely interesting part of mr. see's work is his very satisfactory solution of the hitherto unsolved geological problem of the origin of all the great mountain ranges of the world, in chapters x., xi., and xii. of mr. webb's volume. it seems quite complete except for the beginnings, but i suppose it is a result of the formation of the _earth_ by accretion and not by expulsion, by heating and not by cooling....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. ii.--spiritualism "the completely materialistic mind of my youth and early manhood has been slowly moulded into the socialistic, spiritualistic, and theistic mind i now exhibit--a mind which is, as my scientific friends think, so weak and credulous in its declining years, as to believe that fruit and flowers, domestic animals, glorious birds and insects, wool, cotton, sugar and rubber, metals and gems, were all foreseen and foreordained for the education and enjoyment of man. the whole cumulative argument of my 'world of life' is that _in its every detail_ it calls for the agency of a mind ... enormously above and beyond any human mind ... whether this unknown reality is a single being and acts everywhere in the universe as direct creator, organiser, and director of every minutest motion ... or through 'infinite grades of beings,' as i suggest, comes to much the same thing. mine seems a more clear and intelligible supposition ... and it is the teaching of the bible, of swedenborg, and of milton."--letter from a.r. wallace to james marchant, written in . the letters on spiritualism which wallace wrote cast further light on the personal attitude of mind which he maintained towards that subject. he was an unbiased scientific investigator, commencing on the "lower level" of spirit phenomena, such as raps and similar physical manifestations of "force by unseen intelligences," and passing on to a clearer understanding of the phenomena of mesmerism and telepathy; to the materialisation of, and conversation with, the spirits of those who had been known in the body, until the conviction of life after death, as the inevitable crowning conclusion to the long process of evolution, was reached in the remarkable chapter with which he concludes "the world of life"--an impressive prose poem. like that of many other children, wallace's early childhood was spent in an orthodox religious atmosphere, which, whilst awakening within him vague emotions of religious fervour, derived chiefly from the more picturesque and impassioned of the hymns which he occasionally heard sung at a nonconformist chapel, left no enduring impression. moreover, at the age of he was brought suddenly into close contact with socialism as expounded by robert owen, which dispelled whatever glimmerings of the christian faith there may have been latent in his mind, leaving him for many years a confirmed materialist. this fact, together with his early-aroused sense of the social injustice and privations imposed upon the poorer classes both in town and country, which he carefully observed during his experience as a land-surveyor, might easily have had an undesirable effect upon his general character had not his intense love and reverence for nature provided a stimulus to his moral and spiritual development. but the "directive mind and purpose" was preparing him silently and unconsciously until his "fabric of thought" was ready to receive spiritual impressions. for, according to his own theory, as "the laws of nature bring about continuous development, on the whole progressive, one of the subsidiary results of this mode of development is that no organ, no sensation, no faculty arises _before_ it is needed, or in greater degree than it is needed."[ ] from this point of view we may make a brief outline of the manner in which this particular "faculty" arose and was developed in him. when at leicester, in , his curiosity was greatly excited by some lectures on mesmerism given by mr. spencer hall, and he soon discovered that he himself had considerable power in this direction, which he exercised on some of his pupils. later, when his brother herbert joined him in south america, he found that he also possessed this gift, and on several occasions they mesmerised some of the natives for mere amusement. but the subject was put aside, and wallace paid no further attention to such phenomena until after his return to england in . it was not until the summer of that he witnessed any phenomena of a spiritualistic nature; of these a full account is given in "miracles and modern spiritualism" (p. ). "i came," he says, "to the inquiry utterly unbiased by hopes or fears, because i knew that my belief could not affect the reality, and with an ingrained prejudice even against such a word as 'spirit,' which i have hardly yet overcome." from that time until , when the second edition of that book appeared, he did much, together with other scientists, to establish these facts, as he believed them to be, on a rational and scientific foundation. it will also be noticed, both before and after this period, that in addition to the notable book which he published dealing exclusively with these matters, the gradual trend of his convictions, advancing steadily towards the end which he ultimately reached, had become so thoroughly woven into his "fabric of thought" that it appears under many phases in his writings, and occupies a considerable part of his correspondence, of which we have only room for some specimens. the first definite statement of his belief in "this something" other than material in the evolution of man appeared in his essay on "the development of human faces under the law of natural selection" ( ). in this he suggested that, man having reached a state of physical perfection through the progressive law of natural selection, thenceforth mind became the dominating factor, endowing man with an ever-increasing power of intelligence which, whilst the physical had remained stationary, had continued to develop according to his needs. this "in-breathing" of a divine spirit, or the controlling force of a supreme directive mind and purpose, which was one of the points of divergence between his theory and that held by darwin, is too well known to need repetition. this disagreement has a twofold interest from the fact that darwin, in his youth, studied theology with the full intention of taking holy orders, and for some years retained his faith in the more or less orthodox beliefs arising out of the bible. but as time went by, an ever-extending knowledge of the mystery of the natural laws governing the development of man and nature led him to make the characteristically frank avowal that he "found it more and more difficult ... to invent evidence which would suffice to convince"; adding, "this disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but was at last complete. the rate was so slow that i felt no distress."[ ] with wallace, however, his early disbelief ended in a deep conviction that "as nothing in nature actually 'dies,' but renews its life in another and higher form, so man, the highest product of natural laws here, must by the power of mind and intellect continue to develop hereafter." the varied reasons leading up to this final conviction, as related by himself in "miracles and modern spiritualism" and "my life," are, however, too numerous and detailed to be retold in a brief summary in this place. the correspondence that follows deals entirely with investigations on this side of the atlantic, but a good deal of evidence which to him was conclusive was obtained during his stay in america, where spiritualism has been more widely recognised, and for a much longer period than in england. some of the letters addressed to miss buckley (afterwards mrs. fisher) reveal the extreme caution which he both practised himself and advocated in others when following up any experimental phase of spiritual phenomena. the same correspondence also gives a fairly clear outline of his faith in the ascending scale from the physical evidence of spirit-existence to the communication of some actual knowledge of life as it exists beyond the veil. in spiritual matters, as in natural science, though at times his head may have appeared to be "in the clouds," his feet were planted firmly on the earth. this is seen, to note another curious instance, in his correspondence with sir wm. barrett, where he maintains a delicate balance between natural science and "spirit impression" when discussing the much controverted reality of "dowsing" for water. it was this breadth of vision, unhampered by mere intellectualism, but always kept within reasonable bounds by scientific deduction and analysis, which constituted alfred russel wallace a seer of the first rank. wallace lived to see the theory of evolution applied to the life-history of the earth and the starry firmament, to the development of nations and races, to the progress of mind, morals and religion, even to the origin of consciousness and life--a conception which has completely revolutionised man's attitude towards himself and the world and god. evolution became intelligible in the light of that idea which came to him in his hut at ternate and changed the face of the universe. surely it was enough for any one man to be one of the two chief originators of such a far-reaching thought and to witness its impact upon the ancient story of special creations which it finally laid in the dust. but wallace was privileged beyond all the men of his generation. he lived to see many of the results of the theory of evolution tested by time and to foresee that there were definite limits to its range, that, indeed, there were two lines of development--one affecting the visible world of form and colour and the other the invisible world of life and spirit--two worlds springing from two opposite poles of being and developing _pari passu_, or, rather, the spiritual dominating the material, life originating and controlling organisation. it was, in short, his peculiar task to reveal something of the why as well as the how of the evolutionary process, and in doing so verily to bring immortality to light. the immediate exciting cause of this discovery of the inadequacy of evolution from the material side alone to account for the world of life may seem to many to have been trivial and unworthy of the serious attention of a great scientist. how, it might be asked, could the crude and doubtful phenomena of spiritualism afford reasonably adequate grounds for challenging its supremacy and for setting a limit to its range? but spiritualistic phenomena were only the accidental modes in which the other side of evolution struck in upon his vision. they set him upon the other track and opened up to him the vaster kingdom of life which is without beginning, limit or end; in which perchance the sequence of life from the simple to the complex, from living germ to living god, may also be the law of growth. it is in the light of this ultimate end that we must judge the stumbling steps guided by raps and visions which led him to the ladder set up to the stars by which connection was established with the inner reality of being. that was the distinctive contribution which he made to human beliefs over and above his advocacy of pure darwinism. * * * * * reading almost everything he could obtain upon occult phenomena, wallace found that there was such a mass of testimony by men of the highest character and ability in every department of human learning that he thought it would be useful to bring this together in a connected sketch of the whole subject. this he did, and sent it to a secularist magazine, in which it appeared in , under the title of "the scientific aspect of the supernatural." he sent a copy to huxley. * * * * * to t.h. huxley _ st. mark's crescent, regent's park, n.w. november , ._ dear huxley,--i have been writing a little on a _new branch_ of anthropology, and as i have taken your name in vain on the title-page i send you a copy. i fear you will be much shocked, but i can't help it; and before finally deciding that we are all mad i hope you will come and see some very curious phenomena which we can show you, _among friends only_. we meet every friday evening, and hope you will come sometimes, as we wish for the fullest investigation, and shall be only too grateful to you or anyone else who will show us how and where we are deceived. * * * * * t.h. huxley to a.r. wallace [? _november, ._] dear wallace,--i am neither shocked nor disposed to issue a commission of lunacy against you. it may be all true, for anything i know to the contrary, but really i cannot get up any interest in the subject. i never cared for gossip in my life, and disembodied gossip, such as these worthy ghosts supply their friends with, is not more interesting to me than any other. as for investigating the matter, i have half-a-dozen investigations of infinitely greater interest to me to which any spare time i may have will be devoted. i give it up for the same reason i abstain from chess--it's too amusing to be fair work, and too hard work to be amusing.--yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. * * * * * to t.h. huxley _ st. mark's crescent, regent's park, n.w. december , ._ dear huxley,--thanks for your note. of course, i have no wish to press on you an inquiry for which you have neither time nor inclination. as for the "gossip" you speak of, i care for it as little as you can do, but what i do feel an intense interest in is the exhibition of _force_ where force has been declared _impossible_, and of _intelligence_ from a source the very mention of which has been deemed an _absurdity_. faraday has declared (apropos of this subject) that he who can prove the existence or exertion of force, if but the lifting of a single ounce, by a power not yet recognised by science, will deserve and assuredly receive applause and gratitude. (i quote from memory the sense of his expressions in his lecture on education.) i believe i can now show such a force, and i trust some of the physicists may be found to admit its importance and examine into it.--believe me yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _holly house, barking, e. december , ._ dear miss buckley,-- ... you did not hear mrs. hardinge[ ] on very favourable topics, and i hope you will hear her often again, and especially hear one of her regular discourses. i think, however, from what you heard, that, setting aside all idea of her being more than a mere spiritualist lecturer setting forth the ideas and opinions of the sect, you will admit that spiritualists, as represented by her, are neither prejudiced nor unreasonable, and that they are truly imbued with the scientific spirit of subordinating all theory to fact. you will also admit, i think, that the moral teachings of spiritualism, as far as she touched upon them, are elevated and beautiful and calculated to do good; and if so, that is the use of spiritualism--the getting such doctrines of future progress founded on actual phenomena which we can observe and examine now, not on phenomena which are said to have occurred thousands of years ago and of which we have confessedly but imperfect records. i think, too, that the becoming acquainted with two such phases of spiritualism as are exhibited by mrs. hardinge and miss houghton must show you that the whole thing is not to be judged by the common phenomena of public stances alone, and i can assure you that there are dozens of other phases of the subject as remarkable as these two....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _holly house. barking, e. june , ._ dear miss buckley,-- ... i have lately had a stance with the celebrated mr. home, and saw that most wonderful phenomenon an accordion playing beautiful music by itself, the bottom only being held in mr. home's hand. i was invited to watch it as closely as i pleased under the table in a well-lighted room. i am sure nothing touched it but mr. home's one hand, yet at one time i saw a shadowy yet defined hand on the keys. this is too vast a phenomenon for any sceptic to assimilate, and i can well understand the impossibility of their accepting the evidence of their own senses. mr. crookes, f.r.s., the chemist, was present and suspended the table with a spring balance, when it was at request made heavy or light, the indicator moving accordingly, and to prevent any mistake it was made light when the hands of all present were resting on the table and heavy when our hands were all underneath it. the difference, if i remember, was about lb. i was also asked to place a candle on the floor and look under the table while it was lifted completely off the floor, mr. home's feet being ft. distant from any part of it. this was in a lady's house in the west end. mr. home courts examination if people come to him in a fair and candid spirit of inquiry....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _the dell, grays, essex. january , ._ my dear miss buckley,--i am delighted to hear of your success so far, and hope you are progressing satisfactorily. pray keep accurate notes of all that takes place.... allow me ... to warn you not to take it for granted till you get proof upon proof that it is really your sister that is communicating with you. i hope and think it is, but still, the conditions that render communication possible are so subtle and complex that she may not be able; and some other being, reading your mind, may be acting through you and making you think it is your sister, to induce you to go on. be therefore on the look out for characteristic traits of your sister's mind and manner which are different from your own. these will be tests, especially if they come when and how you are not expecting them. even if it is your sister, she may be obliged to use the intermediation of some other being, and in that case her peculiar idiosyncrasy may be at first disguised, but it will soon make itself distinctly visible. of course you will preserve every scrap you write, and date them, and they will, i have no doubt, explain each other as you go on. if you can get to see the last number of the _quarterly journal of science_, you will find a most important article by mr. crookes, giving an outline of the results of his investigations, which he is going to give in full in a volume. his facts are most marvellous and convincing, and appear to me to answer every one of the objections that have usually been made to the evidence adduced....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _the dell, grays, essex. february , ._ dear miss buckley,--i was much pleased with your long and interesting letter of the th and am glad you are getting on at last. it will be splendid if you really become a good medium for some first-rate unmistakable manifestations that even huxley will acknowledge are worth seeing, and carpenter confess are not to be explained by unconscious cerebration....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _the dell, grays, essex. march , ._ dear miss buckley,--i compassionate your mediumistic troubles, but i have no doubt it will all come right in the end. the fact that your sister will not talk as you want her to talk--will not say what you expect her to say, is a grand proof that it is not your unconscious cerebration that does her talking for her. is not that clear? whether it is she herself or someone else who is talking to you, is not so clear, but that it is not you, i think, is clear enough. i can quite understand, too, that your sister in her new life may be, above all things, interested in getting the telegraph in good order, to communicate, and will not think of much else till that is done. while the first atlantic cable was being laid the messages would be chiefly reports of progress, directions and instructions, with now and then trivialities about the weather, the time, or small items of news. only when it was in real working order was a president's message, a queen's speech, sent through it. automatic writing and trance speaking never yet convinced anybody. they are only useful for those who are already convinced. but you _would_ begin this way. you would not go to mediums and séances and see what you could get that way. so now you must persevere; but do not give up your own judgment in anything. insist upon having things explained to you, or say you won't go on. you will then find they will be explained, only it may take a little more time.... --yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to miss buckley _the dell, grays, essex. april , ._ dear miss buckley,-- ... on coming home this evening i received the news of poor little bertie's death--this morning at eight o'clock. i left him only yesterday forenoon, and had then considerable hopes, for we had just commenced a new treatment which a fortnight earlier i am pretty sure might have saved him. the thought suddenly struck me to go to dr. williams, of hayward's heath ... but it was too late. as he had been in this same state of exhaustion for nearly a month, it is evident that very slight influences might have been injurious or beneficial. our orthodox medical men are profoundly ignorant of the subtle influences of the human body in health and disease, and can thus do nothing in many cases which nature would cure if assisted by proper conditions. we who know what strange and subtle influences are around us can believe this....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * mr. wallace felt the death of this child so deeply that during the remainder of his life he never mentioned him except when obliged, and then with tears in his eyes.--a.b. fisher. * * * * * to miss buckley _the dell, grays, essex. thursday evening, [? december, ]._ dear miss buckley,--our stance came off last evening, and was a tolerable success. the medium is a very pretty little lively girl, the place where she sits a bare empty cupboard formed by a frame and doors to close up a recess by the side of a fireplace in a small basement breakfast-room. we examined it, and it is absolutely impossible to conceal a scrap of paper in it. miss cooke is locked in this cupboard, above the door of which is a square opening about inches each way, the only thing she takes with her being a long piece of tape and a chair to sit on. after a few minutes katie's whispering voice was heard, and a little while after we were asked to open the door and seal up the medium. we found her hands tied together with the tape passed three times round each wrist and tightly knotted, the hands tied close together, the tape then passing behind and well knotted to the chair-back. we sealed all the knots with a private seal of my friend's, and again locked the door. a portable gas lamp was on a table the whole evening, shaded by a screen so as to cast a shadow on the square opening above the door of the cupboard till permission was given to illuminate it. every object and person in the room were always distinctly visible. a face[ ] then appeared at the opening, but dark and indistinct. after a time another face quite distinct with a white turban-like headdress--this was a handsome face with a considerable general likeness to that of the medium, but paler, larger, fuller, and older--decidedly a different face, although like. the light was thrown full on this face, and on request it advanced so that the chin projected a little beyond the aperture. we were then ordered to release the medium. i opened the door, and found her bent forward with her head in her lap, and apparently in a deep sleep or trance--from which a touch and a few words awoke her. we then examined the tape and knots--all was as we left it and every seal perfect. the same face appeared later in the evening, and also one decidedly different with coarser features. after this, for the sake i believe of two sceptics present, the medium was twice tied up in a way that no human being could possibly tie herself. her wrists were tied together so tightly and painfully that it was impossible to untie them in any moderate time, and she was also secured to the chair; on the other occasion the two arms were tied close above the elbows so tightly that the arms were swelling considerably from impeded circulation, the elbows being drawn together as close as possible behind the back, there repeatedly knotted, and again tightly knotted to the back of the chair. miss c. was evidently in considerable pain, and she had to be lifted out bodily in her chair before we could safely cut her loose, so tightly was she bound. this evidently had a great effect on the sceptics, as i have no doubt it was intended to have, and it demonstrated pretty clearly that some strange being was inside the cupboard playing these tricks, although quite invisible and intangible to us except when she made certain portions of herself visible. when miss c. was complaining of being hurt by the tying we could hear the whispering voice soothing her in the kindest manner, and also heard kisses, and miss c. afterwards declared that she could feel hands and face about her like those of a real person. during all the face exhibitions singing had to go on to a rather painful extent.[ ] a dr. purdon was present, an army surgeon, who has been much in india, and seems a very intelligent man. he seemed very intimate with the family, and told us he had studied them all, and had had miss cooke a month at a time in his own house, studying these phenomena. he was absolutely satisfied of their genuineness, and indeed no opportunity for imposture seems to exist. the children of the house tell wonderful tales of how they are lifted up and carried about by the spirits. they seem to enjoy it very much, and to look upon it all as just as real and natural as any other matters of their daily life. can such things be in this nineteenth century, and the wise ones pass away in utter ignorance of their existence?--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * at the glasgow meeting of the british association in , prof. (now sir) w.f. barrett read a paper "on some phenomena associated with abnormal conditions of mind." wallace was chairman of the section in which the paper was read, and a vigorous controversy arose at the close between dr. carpenter, who came in towards the end of the paper, and the chairman. the paper set forth certain remarkable evidence which prof. barrett had obtained from a subject in the mesmeric trance, giving what appeared to be indubitable proof of some supernormal mode of transmission of ideas from his mind to that of the subject. the facts were so novel and startling that prof. barrett asked for a committee of experts to examine the whole question and see whether such a thing as "thought transference," independently of the recognised channels of sense, did really exist. this was the first time evidence of this kind had been brought before a scientific society, and a protracted discussion followed. the paper also dealt with certain so-called spiritualistic phenomena, which at the time prof. barrett was disposed to attribute to hallucination and "thought-transference." the introduction of this topic led the discussion away from the substance of the paper, and prof. barrett's plea for a committee of investigation on thought-transference fell through. so strong was the feeling against the paper in official scientific circles at the time, that even an abstract was refused publication in the _report_ of the british association, and it was not until the society for psychical research was founded that the paper was published, in the first volume of its _proceedings_. it was the need of a scientific society to collect, sift and discuss and publish the evidence on behalf of such supernormal phenomena as prof. barrett described at the british association that induced him to call a conference in london at the close of , which led to the foundation of the society for psychical research early in . wallace, in his letter to prof. barrett which follows, refers to reichenbach's experiments with certain sensitives who declared they saw luminosity from the poles of a magnet after they had been for some time in a perfectly darkened room. acting on wallace's suggestion, prof. barrett constructed a perfectly darkened room and employed a large electro-magnet, the current for which could be made or broken by an assistant outside without the knowledge of those present in the darkened room. under these circumstances, and taking every precaution to prevent any knowledge of when the magnet was made active by the current, prof. barrett found that two or three persons, out of a large number with whom he experimented, saw a luminosity streaming from the poles of the magnet directly the current was put on. an article of prof. barrett's on the subject, with the details of the experiment, was published in the _philosophical magazine_, and also in the _proceedings_ of the society for psychical research (vol. i.). * * * * * to prof. barrett _rosehill, dorking, december , ._ my dear prof. barrett,-- ... i see you are to lecture at south kensington the end of this month (i think), and if you can spare time to run down here and stay a night or two we shall be much pleased to see you, and i shall be greatly interested to have a talk on the subject of your paper, and hear what further evidence you have obtained. i want particularly to ask you to take advantage of any opportunity that you may have to test the power of sensitives to see the "flames" from magnets and crystals, as also to _feel_ the influence from them. this is surely a matter easily tested and settled. i consider it has been tested and settled by reichenbach, but he is ignored, and a fresh proof of this one fact, by indisputable tests, is much needed; and a paper describing such tests and proofs would i imagine be admitted into the _proceedings_ of any suitable society. you will have heard no doubt of the treasury having taken up the prosecution of slade. massey the barrister, one of the most intelligent and able of the spiritualists (whose accession to the cause is due, i am glad to say, to my article in the _fortnightly_), proposes a memorial and deputation to the government protesting against this prosecution by the treasury on the ground that it implies that slade is an habitual impostor and nothing else, and that in face of the body of evidence to the contrary, it is an uncalled-for interference with the private right of investigation into these subjects. on such general grounds as these i sincerely hope you will give your name to the memorial....--yours very faithfully, a.r. wallace. to prof. barrett _rosehill, dorking. december , ._ my dear barrett,--i am always glad when a man i like and respect treats me as a friend. i am advised by other friends also not to waste more time on dr. c. [carpenter], and i do not think i shall answer him again, except perhaps to keep him to certain points, as in my letter in the last _nature_. in a proof of his new edition of "lectures" i see he challenges me to produce a person who can detect by light or sensation when an electro-magnet is made and unmade. the association of spiritualists are going to experiment, as dr. c. offers to pay £ if it succeeds. should you have an opportunity of trying with any persons, and can find one who sees or feels the influence strongly, it might be worth while to send him to london, as nothing would tend to lower dr. c. in public estimation on this subject more than his being forced to acknowledge that what he has for more than thirty years declared to be purely subjective is after all an objective phenomenon. i never had anything to do with showing or sending a medium to huxley. he must refer to his séance a few months ago with mrs. kane and mrs. jencken (along with carpenter and tyndall), when ... nothing but raps occurred....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * the british association met in dublin in , and prof. barrett asked wallace to stay with him at kingstown, or, if he preferred being nearer the meetings, with a friend in dublin. earlier in the year mr. huggins, afterwards sir w. huggins, o.m. and president of the royal society, had sent prof. barrett a very beautifully executed drawing of the knots tied in an endless cord during the remarkable sittings prof. zöllner had with the medium slade. sir w. huggins invited prof. barrett to come and see him at his observatory at tulse hill, near london, and there he met wallace and discussed the whole matter. it may not be generally known that so careful and accurate an observer as sir w. huggins was convinced of the genuineness of the phenomena he had witnessed with lord dunraven and others through the medium d.d. home. he informed prof. barrett of this himself. to prof. barrett _waldron edge, duppas hill, croydon. june , ._ my dear barrett,--the receipt of a british association circular reminds me of your kind invitation to stay with you or your friend at dublin, and as you may be wishing soon to make your arrangements i write at once to let you know that, much to my regret, i shall not be able to come to dublin this year. since i met you at mr. huggins's i have done nothing myself in spiritual investigations, but have been exceedingly interested in the knot-tying experiment of prof. zöllner and the weight-varying experiments of the spiritualists' association. i do not see what flaw can be found in either of them....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * in the discussion on prof. barrett's paper at the glasgow meeting of the british association, which took place in the london _times_ and other newspapers, instances of apparent thought-transference were given by many correspondents. each of these cases prof. barrett investigated personally, and one of them led to a remarkable series of experiments which he conducted at buxton, with the result that no doubt was left on his mind of the fact of the transference of ideas from one mind to another independent of the ordinary channels of sense. he asked prof. and mrs. h. sidgwick to come to buxton and repeat his experiments with the subjects there--daughters of a local clergyman. they did so, and though they had less success at first than prof. barrett had had, they were ultimately convinced of the genuineness of the phenomena. in addition, mr. edmund gurney, mr. frederic myers, prof. a. hopkinson and prof. balfour stewart, all responded to prof. barrett's invitation to visit buxton and test the matter for themselves, and all came to the same conclusion as he had. subsequently gurney and myers associated their name with barrett's in a paper on the subject, published in the _nineteenth century_. prof. barrett asked wallace to read over the first report made by prof. and mrs. sidgwick, which at first seemed somewhat disheartening, and the following is his reply: remarks on experiments in thought reading by mr. and mrs. sidgwick at buxton the failure of so many of these experiments seems to me to depend on their having been conducted without any knowledge of the main peculiarity of thought reading or clairvoyance--that it is a perception of the object thought of or hidden, not by its name, or even by its sum total of distinctive qualities, but by the simple qualities separately. a clairvoyant will perceive a thing as round, then as yellow, and finally as an orange. now mr. galton's experiments have shown how various are the powers of visualising objects possessed by different persons, and how distinct their modes of doing so; and if these distinct visualisations of the same thing are in any way presented to a clairvoyant, there is little wonder that some confusion should result. this would suggest that one person who possesses the faculty of clearly visualising objects would meet with more success than a number of persons some of whom visualise one portion or quality of the object, some another, while to others the name alone is present to the mind. it follows from these considerations that cards are bad for such experiments. the qualities of number, colour, form and arrangement may be severally most prominent in one mind or other, and the result is confusion to the thought reader. this is shown in the experiments by the number of pips or the suit alone being often right. it must also be remembered that children have not the same thorough knowledge of the names of the cards that we have, nor can they so rapidly and certainly count their numbers. this introduces another source of uncertainty which should be avoided in such experiments as these. the same thing is still more clearly shown by the way in which objects are guessed by some prominent quality or resemblance, not by any likeness of name--as poker guessed for walking-stick, fork for pipe, something iron for knife, etc. and the total failure in the case of names of towns is clearly explained by the fact that these would convey no distinct idea or concrete image that could be easily described. these last failures really give an important clue to the nature of the faculty that is being investigated, since they show that it is not _words_ or _names_ that are read but thoughts or images that are perceived, and the certainty of the perception will depend upon the simple character of these images and the clearness and identity of the perception of them by the different persons present. if these considerations are always kept in view, i feel sure that the experiments will be far more successful. alfred e. wallace. sept. , . * * * * * wallace's remarkable gifts as a lecturer are less widely known than his lucid and admirable style as a writer. though sir wm. barrett has heard a great number of eminent scientific men lecture, he considers that few could approach him for the simplicity, clearness and vigour of his exposition, which commanded the unflagging attention of every one of his hearers. mr. frederic myers, no mean judge of literary merit, once said he thought wallace one of the most lucid english writers and lecturers of his time. prof. barrett was anxious to induce wallace to lecture in dublin, and brought the matter before the science committee of the royal dublin society, which arranges a course of afternoon lectures by distinguished men every spring. the committee cordially supported the suggestion that wallace should be invited to lecture, and the invitation was accepted. during his visit to dublin, wallace stayed with prof. barrett at kingstown, and was busily engaged in revising the proof-sheets of his book on "land nationalisation" ( ). in "my life" (vol. ii., p. ) wallace says that among the eminent men whose "first acquaintance and valued friendship" he owed to a common interest in spiritualism was frederic myers, whom he met first at some séances in london about the year . * * * * * f.w.h. myers to a.r. wallace _leckhampton house, cambridge. april , ._ my dear wallace,--i will read your pamphlet[ ] most carefully; will write and tell you how it affects me; and will in any case send it on with your letter and a letter of my own to sir john gorst, whom i know well, and whom i agree with you in regarding as the most acceptable member of the government. if i am converted, it will be wholly _your_ doing. i have read much on the subject--creighton, etc., and am at present strongly pro-vaccination; at the same time, there is no one by whom i would more willingly be converted than yourself. i am glad to take this opportunity of telling you something about my relation to one of your books. i write now from bed, having had some influenzic pneumonia, now going off. for some days my temperature was and i was very restless at night, anxious to read, but in too sensitive and fastidious a state to tolerate almost any book. i found that almost the only book which i could read was your "malay archipelago" (of course i had read it before). in spite of my complete ignorance of natural history there was a certain charm about the book, both moral and literary, which made it deeply congenial in those trying hours. you have had few less instructed readers, but very few can have dwelt on that simple manly record with a more profound sympathy. i want to bespeak you as a _friend at court_. when we get into the next world, i beg you to remember me and say a good word for me when you can, as you will have much influence there. to me it seems that hodgson's report[ ] is the _best_ thing which we have yet published. i trust that it impresses you equally. it has converted _podmore_ amongst other people! i will, then, write again soon, and i am yours most truly, f.w.h. myers. * * * * * to mrs. fisher (_née_ buckley) _parkstone, dorset. january , ._ my dear mrs. fisher,--i am glad to hear that you are going on with your book. i am sure it will be a comfort to you. i have read one book of hudson's--"a scientific demonstration of a future life," and that is so pretentious, so unscientific, and so one-sided that i do not feel inclined to read more of the same author's work. i do not think i mentioned to you (as i thought you did not read much now) a really fine and original work, called "psychic philosophy, a religion of natural law," by desertis (redway). i should like to know if, after reading that, you still think hudson's books worth reading. i have been much pleased and interested lately in reading mark twain's, mrs. oliphant's and andrew lang's books about joan of arc. the last two are far the best, mrs. oliphant's as a genuine sympathetic _history_, lang's as a fine realistic story ("a monk of fife"). jeanne was really perhaps the most beautiful character in authentic history, and the one that most conclusively demonstrates spirit-guidance, and both mrs. oliphant and a. lang bring this out admirably.... --yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mrs. fisher _parkstone, dorset. september , ._ my dear mrs. fisher,--i have much pleasure in signing your application for the psychical research society, though the majority of the active members are so absurdly and illogically sceptical that you will not find much instruction in their sayings. mr. podmore's report in the last-issued _proceedings_ is a good illustration.... we have all been in switzerland this year. violet, her mother, and five lady friends all went together to a rather newly-discovered place, adelboden, a branch valley from that going up to the gemmi pass by kandersteg. i went first for a week to davos, to give a lecture to dr. lunn's party, and enjoyed myself much, chiefly owing to the company of rev. hugh price hughes, one of the most witty, earnest, advanced, and estimable men i have ever met. dr. lunn himself is very jolly, and we had also mr. le gallienne, the poet and critic, and between them we had a very brilliant table-talk. mr. haweis was also there, and one afternoon he and i talked for two hours about spiritualism. he is a thorough spiritualist, and preaches it....--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. to mrs. fisher _parkstone, dorset. april , ._ my dear mrs. fisher,--i have tried several reincarnation and theosophical books, but _cannot_ read them or take any interest in them. they are so purely imaginative, and do not seem to me rational. many people are captivated by it--i think most people who like a grand, strange, complex theory of man and nature, given with authority--people who if religious would be roman catholics. crookes gave a suggestive and interesting, but in some ways rather misleading address as president of the psychical research society. i liked oliver lodge's address to the spiritualists' association better....--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * in , at the urgent request of prof. h. sidgwick, president of the society for psychical research, prof. barrett undertook, with considerable reluctance, to make a thorough examination of the subject of "dowsing" for water and minerals by means of the so-called "divining rod." at the time he fully believed that a critical inquiry of this kind would speedily show all the alleged successes of the dowser to be due either to fraud or a sharp eye for the ground. as the inquiry went on, to his surprise he found that neither chicanery, nor clever guessing, nor local knowledge, nor chance coincidence could explain away the accumulated evidence, but that something new to science was really at the root of the matter. this result was so startling that prof. barrett had to pursue the investigation for six years before venturing to publish his first report, which appeared in the _proceedings_ of the society for psychical research, part xxxii., . this was followed by a second report published some years later, in which he gave a fresh body of evidence on the criticisms of some eminent geologists to whom he had submitted the evidence. the reports were reviewed in _nature_ with considerable severity, and some erroneous statements were made, to which prof. barrett replied. the editor, sir norman lockyer, at first declined to publish prof. barrett's reply, and to this wallace refers in the following letter. * * * * * to prof. barrett _parkstone, dorset. october , ._ my dear barrett,-- ... apropos of _nature_, they never gave a word of notice to my book[ ]--probably they would say out of kindness to myself as one of their oldest contributors, since they would have had to scarify me, especially as regards the huge vaccination chapter, which is nevertheless about the most demonstrative bit of work i have done. i begged myers--as a personal favour--to read it. he told me he firmly believed in vaccination, but would do so, and afterwards wrote me that he could see no answer to it, and if there was none he was converted. there certainly has been not a tittle of answer except abuse. i am glad you brought lockyer up sharp in his attempt to refuse you the right to reply. i am glad you now have some personal observations to adduce. i hope persons or corporations who are going to employ a dowser will now advise you so that you may be present....--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. barrett _parkstone, dorset. december , ._ my dear barrett,-- ... i have read your very interesting paper on the divining rod, and the additional evidence you now send. of course, i think it absolutely conclusive, but there are many points on which i differ from your conclusions and remarks, which i think are often unfair to the dowsers. i will just refer to one or two. at p. (note) you call the idea of there being a "spring-head" at a particular point "absurd." but instead of being absurd it is a _fact_, proved not only by numerous cases you have given of strong springs being found quite near to weak springs a few yards off, but by all the phenomena of mineral and hot springs. near together, as at bath, hot springs and cold springs rise to the surface, and springs of different quality at harrogate, yet each keeps its distinct character, showing that each rises from a great depth without any lateral diffusion or intermixture. this is a common phenomenon all over the world, the dowsers' facts support it, geologists know all about it, yet i presume they have told you that when a dowser states this fact it ceases to be a fact and becomes an absurdity! the only other point i have time to notice is your sect. ii. (p. ). you head this, "evidence that the motion of the rod is due to unconscious muscular action." naturally i read this with the greatest interest, but found to my astonishment that you adduce no evidence at all, but only opinions of various people, and positive assertions that such is the case! now as i _know_ that motions of various objects occur without any muscular action, or even any contact whatever, while crookes has proved this by careful experiments which have never been refuted, what _improbability_ is there that this should be such a case, and what is the value of these positive assertions which you quote as "evidence"? and at p. you quote the person who says the more he tried to prevent the stick's turning the more it turned, as _evidence_ in favour of muscular action, without a word of explanation. another man (p. ) says he "could not restrain it." none of the "trained anatomists" you quote give a particle of _proof_, only positive opinion, that it must be muscular action--simply because they do not believe any other action possible. their evidence is just as valueless as that of the people who say that all thought-transference is collusion or imposture! i do not say that it is not "muscular action," though i believe it is not always so, but i do say that you have as yet given not a particle of proof that it is so, while scattered through your paper is plenty of evidence which points to its being something quite different. such are the cases when people hold the rod for the first time and have never seen a dowser work, yet the rod turns, over water, to their great astonishment, etc. etc. your conclusion that it is "clairvoyance" is a good provisional conclusion, but till we know what clairvoyance really is it explains nothing, and is merely another way of stating the _fact_. i believe all true clairvoyance to be spirit impression, and that all true dowsing is the same--that is, when in either case it cannot be thought-transference, but even this i believe to be also, for the most part, if not wholly, spirit impression.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to prof. barrett _parkstone, dorset. february , ._ my dear barrett,--i am rather sorry you wrote to any one of the society for psychical research people about my being asked to be president, because i should certainly feel compelled to decline it. i never go, willingly, to london now, and should never attend meetings, so pray say no more about it. besides, i am so widely known as a "crank" and a "faddist" that my being president would injure the society, as much as lord rayleigh would benefit it, so pray do not put any obstacle in _his_ way, though of course there is no necessity to beg him as a favour to be the successor of sidgwick, crookes and myers.... * * * * * to rev. j.b. henderson _parkstone, dorset. august , ._ dear sir,--although i look upon christianity as originating in an unusual spiritual influx, i am not disposed to consider [it] as _essentially_ different from those which originated other great religious and philanthropic movements. it is probable that in _your_ sense of the word i am not a christian.--believe me yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. j.w. marshall _parkstone, dorset. march , ._ my dear marshall,--we were very much grieved to hear of your sad loss in a letter from violet. pray accept our sincere sympathy for mrs. marshall and yourself. death makes us feel, in a way nothing else can do, the mystery of the universe. last autumn i lost my sister, and she was the only relative i have been with at the last. for the moment it seems unnatural and incredible that the living self with its special idiosyncrasies you have known so long can have left the body, still more unnatural that it should (as so many now believe) have utterly ceased to exist and become nothingness! with all my belief in, and knowledge of, spiritualism, i have, however, occasional qualms of doubt, the remnants of my original deeply ingrained scepticism; but my reason goes to support the psychical and spiritualistic phenomena in telling me that there _must_ be a hereafter for us all....--believe me yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to dr. edwin smith _parkstone, dorset. october , ._ dear sir,--i know nothing of london mediums now. nine-tenths of the alleged frauds in mediums arise from the ignorance of the sitters. the only way to gain any real knowledge of spiritualistic phenomena is to follow the course pursued in all science--study the elements before going to the higher branches. to expect proof of materialisation before being satisfied of the reality of such simpler phenomena as raps, movements of various objects, etc. etc., is as if a person began chemistry by trying to analyse the more complex vegetable products before he knew the composition of water and the simplest salts. if you want to _know_ anything about spiritualism you should experiment yourself with a select party of earnest inquirers--personal friends. when you have thus satisfied yourself of the existence of a considerable range of the physical phenomena and of many of the obscurities and difficulties of the inquiry, you may use the services of public mediums, without the certainty of imputing every little apparent suspicious circumstance to trickery, since you will have seen similar suspicious facts in your private circle where you _knew_ there was no trickery. you will find rules for forming private circles in some issues of _light_. you can get them from the office of _light_.--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * prof. barrett to a.r. wallace _ de vesci terrace, kingstown, co. dublin. november , ._ my dear wallace,-- ... just now i am engaged in a correspondence with the secretaries of the society for psychical research on the question of the presidency for next year. i maintain that as a matter of duty to the society you should be asked to accept the presidency, though of course it would be impossible for you to be much more than an honorary president, as we could not expect you often to come to london. i am anxious that in our records for future reference your presidency should appear.... podmore, who is proposed as president, represents the attitude of resolute incredulity, and i consider this line of action has been to some extent injurious to the s.p.r. crookes supported my proposal, and so did lodge, and so would myers if he had lived. all this is of course between ourselves.... i have a vast amount of material unpublished on "dowsing" and am convinced the explanation is subconscious clairvoyance....--yours very sincerely, w.f. barrett. * * * * * to mrs. fisher _broadstone, wimborne. april , ._ my dear mrs. fisher,--if you mean "honest" by "thoroughly reliable," there are plenty of such mediums, but if you mean those who give equally good results always, and to all persons, i should say there are none.... i am reading herbert spencer's "autobiography" (just finished vol. i.). i find it very interesting, though tedious in parts. i am glad i did not read it before i wrote mine. he certainly brings out his own character most strikingly, and a wonderful character it was. how extraordinarily little he owed either to teaching or to reading! i think he is best described as a "reasoning genius."--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * lord avebury to a.r. wallace _ grosvenor street, w. may , ._ my dear wallace,--i have been reading your biography with great interest. it must be a source of very pleasant memories to you to look back and feel how much you have accomplished. it surprises me, however, how much we differ, and it is another illustration of the problems [?] of our (or rather i should say of my) intellect. in some cases, indeed, the difference is as to facts. you would, i am sure, for instance, find that you have been misinformed as to "thousands of dogs" being vivisected annually (p. ).... as to spiritualism, my difficulty is that nothing comes of it. what has been gained by your séances, compared to your studies? i see you have a kindly reference to our parties at high elms in old days, on which i often look back with much pleasure, but much regret also. if you would give us the pleasure of another visit, _do_ propose yourself, and you will have a very hearty welcome from yours very sincerely, avebury. * * * * * a lecture delivered by prof. barrett before the quest society in london, entitled "creative thought," was published by request, and as it discussed the subject of evolution and the impossibility of explaining the phenomena of life without a supreme directing and formative force behind all the manifestations of life, he was anxious to have wallace's criticisms. at that time he had not read wallace's recently published work on a similar subject, and he was greatly surprised to find how closely his views agreed with those of the great naturalist. to prof. barrett _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. february , ._ my dear barrett,--thanks for your proofs, which i return. it is really curious how closely your views coincide with mine, and how admirably and clearly you have expressed them. if it were not for your adopting throughout, as an actual fact, the (to me) erroneous theory of the "subconscious self," i should agree with every word of it. i have put "?" where this is prominently put forward, merely to let you know how i totally dissent from it. to me it is pure assumption, and, besides, proves nothing. thanks for the flattering "postscript," which i return with a slight suggested alteration. reviews have been generally very fair, complimentary and flattering. but to me it is very curious that even the religious reviewers seem horrified and pained at the idea that the infinite being does not actually do every detail himself, apparently leaving his angels, and archangels, his seraphs and his messengers, which seem to exist in myriads according to the bible, to have no function whatever!--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * prof. barrett to a.r. wallace _ de vesci terrace, kingstown, co. dublin. february , ._ my dear wallace,-- ... thank you very much for your kind letter and comments. i have modified somewhat the phraseology as regards the "subliminal self." i think we really agree but use different terms. there _is_ a hidden directive power, which works in conjunction with, and is temporarily part of, our own conscious self; but it is below the threshold of consciousness, or is a subliminal part of our self. i should like to have come over to broadstone expressly to ask your views on the parts you queried. for i have an immense faith in the soundness of your judgment, and in the accuracy of your views _in the long run_. i should like also immensely to see you again and in your lovely home....--yours ever sincerely, w.f. barrett. * * * * * to prof. barrett _old orchard, broadstone, wimborne. february , ._ my dear barrett,--i wrote you yesterday on quite another matter, but having yours this morning in reply to my criticisms of your address, i send a few lines of explanation. most of my queries to your statements apply solely to your expressing them so positively, as if they were absolute certainties which no psychical researcher doubted. my main objection to the term "subliminal self" and its various synonyms is, that it is so dreadfully vague, and is an excuse for the assumption that a whole series of the most mysterious of psychical phenomena are held to be actually explained by it. thus it is applied to explain all cases of apparent "possession," when the alleged "secondary self" has a totally different character, and uses the dialect of another social grade, from the normal self, sometimes even possesses knowledge that the real self could not have acquired, speaks a language that the normal self never learnt. all this is, to me, the most gross travesty of science, and i therefore object totally to the use of the term which is so vaguely and absurdly used, and of which no clear and rational explanation has ever been given. you are now one of my oldest friends, and one with whom i most sympathise; and i only regret that we have seen so little of each other.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * to mr. e. smedley _old orchard, broadstone, dorset. october , ._ dear mr. smedley,--i am quite astonished at your wasting your money on an advertising astrologer. in the horoscope sent you there is not a single definite fact that would apply to you any more than to thousands of other men. all is vague, what "might be," etc. etc. it is just calculated to lead you on to send more money, and get in reply more words and nothing else....--yours very truly, alfred r. wallace. [illustration: a.r. wallace admiring _eremus robustus_ about .] part vii characteristics "there is a point of view so lofty or so peculiar that from it we are able to discern in men and women something more than and apart from creed and profession and formulated principle; which indeed directs and colours this creed and principle as decisively as it is in its turn acted on by them, and this is their character or humanity."--lord morley. "as sets the sun in fine autumnal calm so dost thou leave us. thou not least but last link with that rare and gallant little band of seekers after truth, whose days, though past, shed lustre on the hist'ry of their land. and thine, o wallace, thine the added charm of modesty, thy mem'ry to embalm."--_anonymous._ (_received with a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley, a few days after dr. wallace's death_.) addison somewhere says that modesty sets off every talent which a man can be possessed of. this was manifestly true of alfred russel wallace. when, for instance, honours were bestowed upon him, he accepted or rejected them with the same good-humour and unspoilable modesty. to prof. e.b. poulton, whose invitation for the forthcoming encæmia had been conveyed in prof. bartholomew price's letter, he wrote: _godalming. may , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--i have just received from prof. b. price the totally unexpected offer of the honorary degree of d.c.l. at the coming commemoration, and you will probably be surprised and _disgusted_ to hear that i have declined it. i have to thank you for your kind offer of hospitality during the ceremony, but the fact is, i have at all times a profound distaste of all public ceremonials, and at this particular time that distaste is stronger than ever. i have never recovered from the severe illness i had a year and a half ago, and it is in hopes of restoring my health that i have let my cottage here and have taken another at parkstone, dorset, into which i have arranged to move on midsummer day. to add to my difficulties, i have work at examination papers for the next two or three weeks, and also a meeting (annual) of our land nationalisation society, so that the work of packing my books and other things and looking after the plants which i have to move from my garden will have to be done in a very short time. under these circumstances it would be almost impossible for me to rush away to oxford except under absolute compulsion, and to do so would be to render a ceremony which at any time would be a trial, a positive punishment. really the greatest kindness my friends can do me is to leave me in peaceful obscurity, for i have lived so secluded a life that i am more and more disinclined to crowds of any kind. i had to submit to it in america, but then i felt exceptionally well, whereas now i am altogether weak and seedy and not at all up to fatigue or excitement.--yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. prof. poulton pressed him to reconsider his decision, and he reluctantly gave way. * * * * * _godalming. june , ._ my dear mr. poulton,--i am exceedingly obliged by your kind letters, and i will say at once that if the council of the university should again ask me to accept the degree, to be conferred in the autumn, as you propose, i could not possibly refuse it. at the same time i hope you will not in any way urge it upon them, as i really feel myself too much of an amateur in natural history and altogether too ignorant (i left school--a bad one--finally, at fourteen) to receive honours from a great university. but i will say no more about that.--yours very faithfully, a.r. wallace. * * * * * in due course he received the degree. "on that occasion," says professor poulton, "wallace stayed with us, and i was anxious to show him something of oxford; but, with all that there is to be seen, one subject alone absorbed the whole of his interest--he was intensely anxious to find the rooms where grant allen had lived. he had received from grant allen's father a manuscript poem giving a picture of the ancient city dimly seen by midnight from an undergraduate's rooms. with the help of grant allen's college friends we were able to visit every house in which he had lived, but were forced to conclude that the poem was written in the rooms of a friend or from an imaginary point of view." his friend sir w.t. thiselton-dyer, with others, was promoting his election to the royal society, and wrote to him: sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to a.r. wallace _kew. october , ._ dear mr. wallace,-- ... when you were at kew this summer i took the liberty of saying that it would give great pleasure to the fellows of the royal society if you would be willing to join their body. i understood you to say that it would be agreeable to you. i now propose to comply with the necessary formalities. but before doing so it will be proper to ask for your formal consent. you will then, as a matter of course, be included in the next annual election. will you forgive me if i am committing any indiscretion in saying that i have good authority for adding (though i suppose it can hardly be stated officially at this stage) that no demand will ever be made upon you for a subscription?--believe me yours sincerely, w.t. thiselton-dyer. * * * * * sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to a.r. wallace _kew. january , ._ dear mr. wallace,-- ... i was very vexed to hear that i had misunderstood your wishes about the royal society. of course, the matter must often have presented itself to your mind, and i confess that it argued a little presumption on the part of a person like myself, so far inferior to you in age and standing, to think that you would yield to my solicitation. i was obliged for my health to go to eastbourne, and there i had the pleasure of seeing mr. huxley, who, you will be glad to hear, is wonderfully well, and an ardent gardener! his present ambition is to grow every possible saxifrage. i told him that i had had the audacity to approach you on the subject of the royal society. he heartily approved, and expressed the strongest opinion that unless you had some insuperable objection you ought to yield. all of us who belong to the r.s. have but one wish, which is that it should stand before the public as containing all that is best and worthiest in british science. as long as men like you stand aloof, that cannot be said. lately we have been exposed to some very ill-natured attacks: we have been told that we are professional, and not discoverers. well, this is all the more reason for your not holding aloof from us. i wish you would think it over again. huxley went the length of saying that to him it seemed a plain duty. but this is language i do not like to use. as to attending the meetings or taking part in the work of the society, that is immaterial. darwin never did either, though he did once come to one of the evening receptions, and enjoyed it immensely. in writing as i do i am not merely expressing my own opinions, but those of many others of my own standing who are keenly interested in the matter. it is not a great matter to ask. i have the certificate ready. you have but to say the word. you will be put to no trouble or pecuniary responsibility. that my father-in-law arranged, long ago. to dissociate yourself from the r.s. really amounts nowadays to doing it an injury. and i am sure you do not wish that. with all good wishes, believe me yours sincerely, w.t. thiselton-dyer. * * * * * to sir w.t. thiselton-dyer _parkstone, dorset. january , ._ dear mr. thiselton-dyer,--i have been rather unwell myself the last few days or should have answered your very kind letter sooner. i feel really overpowered. i cannot understand why you or anyone should care about my being an f.r.s., because i have really done so little of what is usually considered scientific work to deserve it. i have for many years felt almost ashamed of the amount of reputation and honour that has been awarded me. i can understand the general public thinking too highly of me, because i know that i have the power of clear exposition, and, i think, also, of logical reasoning. but all the work i have done is more or less amateurish and founded almost wholly on other men's observations; and i always feel myself dreadfully inferior to men like sir j. hooker, huxley, flower, and scores of younger men who have extensive knowledge of whole departments of biology of which i am totally ignorant. i do not wish, however, to be thought ungrateful for the many honours that have been given me by the royal and other societies, and will therefore place myself entirely in your hands as regards my election to the f.r.s. i am much pleased to hear that huxley has taken to gardening. i have no doubt he will do some good work with his saxifrages. for myself the personal attention to my plants occupies all my spare time, and i derive constant enjoyment from the mere contemplation of the infinite variety of forms of leaf and flower, and modes of growth, and strange peculiarities of structure which are the source of fresh puzzles and fresh delights year by year. with best wishes and many thanks for the trouble you are taking on my behalf, believe me yours very faithfully, alfred b. wallace. * * * * * in the _standard_ announced that the degree of d.c.l. was to be conferred upon him by the university of wales. he wrote to miss dora best, who had sent him the information: i have not seen the _standard_. but i suppose it is about the offer of a degree by the university of wales. you will not be surprised to hear that i have declined it "with thanks." the bother, the ceremony, the having perhaps to get a blue or yellow or scarlet gown! and at all events new black clothes and a new topper! such as i have not worn this twenty years. luckily i had a good excuse in having committed the same offence before. some ten years back i declined the offer of a degree from cambridge, so that settled it. p.s.--having already degrees two--ll.d. (dublin) and d.c.l. (oxford)--i might have quoted shakespeare: "to gild refined gold, to paint the lily," etc. but i didn't!--a.r.w. * * * * * in he received the order of merit, the highest honour conferred upon him. to his friend mrs. fisher he wrote: dear mrs. fisher,--is it not awful--two more now! i should think very few men have had three such honours within six months! i have never felt myself worthy of the copley medal--and as to the order of merit--to be given to a red-hot radical, land nationaliser, socialist, anti-militarist, etc. etc. etc., is quite astounding and unintelligible!... there is another thing you have not heard yet, but it will be announced soon. sir w. crookes, as secretary of the royal institution, wrote to me two weeks back asking me very strongly to give them a lecture at their opening meeting (third week in january) appropriate to the jubilee of the "origin of species." i was very unwell at the time--could eat nothing, etc.--and was going to decline positively, having nothing more to say! but while lying down, vaguely thinking about it, an idea flashed upon me of a new treatment of the whole subject of darwinism, just suitable for a lecture to a r.i. audience. i felt at once there was something that ought to be said, and that i should like to say--so i actually wrote and accepted, provisionally. my voice has so broken that unless i can improve it i fear not being heard, but crookes promised to read it either wholly, or leaving to me the opening and concluding paragraphs. i was very weak--almost a skeleton--but i am now getting much better. but finishing up the "spruce" book, and now all these honours and congratulations and letters, etc., are giving me much work, yet i am getting strong again, and really hope to do this "lecture" as my last stroke for darwinism against the mutationists and mendelians, but much more effective, i hope, than my article in the august _contemporary review_, though that was pretty strong.--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. how more than true "sunlight's"[ ] words have come, "you will come out of the hole! you will be more in the world. you will have satisfaction, retrospection, and work"! literally fulfilled!--a.r.w. * * * * * and to mr. f. birch: _december , ._ dear fred,-- ... i received a letter from lord knollys--the king's private secretary--informing me that his majesty proposed to offer me the order of merit, among the birthday honours! this is an "order" established by the present king about eight years ago, solely for "merit"--whether civil or military--it is a pity it was not civil only, as the military have so many distinctions already. so i had to compose a very polite letter of acceptance and thanks, and then later i had to beg to be excused (on the ground of age and delicate health) from attending the investiture at buckingham palace (on december th), when court dress--a kind of very costly livery--is obligatory! and i was kept for weeks waiting. but at last one of the king's equerries, col. legge (an earl's son), came down here about two weeks ago bringing the order, which is a very handsome cross in red and blue enamel and gold--rich colours--with a crown above, and a rich ribbed-silk blue and crimson riband to hang it round the neck! col. legge was very pleasant, stayed half an hour, had some tea, and showed us how to wear it. so i shall be in duty bound to wear it on the only public occasion i shall be seen again (in all probability), when i give (or attempt to give) my lecture.[ ] then, i had a letter from windsor telling me that chalk portraits of all the members of the order were to be taken for the collections in the library, and a mr. strang came and stayed the night, and in four hours completed a very good life-size head, in coloured chalk, and so far, so good!--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * wallace regarded "sunlight's" prophecy about "retrospection" as being fulfilled in , when he received the invitation of messrs. chapman and hall to begin collecting material for his autobiography which was subsequently published in two large volumes, under the title of "my life." referring to this work he wrote to mrs. fisher: _broadstone, dorset. april_ , . dear mrs. fisher,--thanks for your remarks on what an autobiography ought to be. but i am afraid i shall fall dreadfully short. i seem to remember nothing but ordinary facts and incidents of no interest to anyone but my own family. i do not feel myself that anything has much influenced my character or abilities, such as they are. lots of things have given me opportunities, and those i can state. also other things have directed me into certain lines, but i can't dilate on these; and really, with the exception of darwin and sir charles lyell, i have come into close relations with hardly any eminent men. all my doings and surroundings have been commonplace! i am now just reading a charming and ideal bit of autobiography--robert dale owen's "threading my way." if you have not read it, do get it (published by trübner and co. in ). it is delightful. so simple and natural throughout. but his father was one of the most wonderful men of the nineteenth century--robert owen of new lanark--and this book gives the true history of his great success. then r.d. owen met clarkson and heard from his own lips how he worked to abolish the slave trade. then he had part of his education at hofwyl under fellenberg, an experiment in education and self-government wonderfully original and successful. he afterwards worked at "new harmony" with his father, and met during his life almost all the most remarkable people in england and america. this book only contains the first twenty-seven years of his life and i am afraid he never completed it. such a book makes me despair!--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * when "my life" was published, he wrote to the same old and valued friend: _broadstone, wimborne. november , ._ my dear mrs. fisher,--the reviewers are generally very fair about the fads except a few. the _review_ invents a new word for me--i am an "anti-body"; but the _outlook_ is the richest: i am the one man who believes in spiritualism, phrenology, anti-vaccination, and the centrality of the earth in the universe, whose life is worth writing. then it points out a few things i am capable of believing, but which everybody else knows to be fallacies, and compares me to sir i. newton writing on the prophets! yet of course he praises my biology up to the skies--there i am wise--everywhere else i am a kind of weak, babyish idiot! it is really delightful! only one is absolutely savage about it all--the _liverpool_ _daily post and mercury_. the reviewer devotes over three columns almost wholly to the fads--as to all of which he evidently knows absolutely nothing, but he is cocksure that i am always wrong!...--yours very sincerely, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * he always thought that he was deficient in the gift of humour: "i am," he wrote to mr. j.w. marshall (may , ), "still grinding away at my autobiography. have got to my american lecture tour, and hope to finish by about sept. but have such lots of interruptions. i am just reading huxley's life. some of his letters are inimitable, but the whole is rather monotonous. i find there is a good deal of variety in my life if i had but the gift of humour! alas! i could not make a joke to save my life. but i find it very interesting." "unless somebody," he wrote to miss evans, "can make me laugh just before the critical moment i always have a horrid expression in photographs." yet another observant friend remarked that "he had a keen sense of humour. it was always his boyish joyous exuberance which touched me. he never grew old. when i had sat with him an hour he was a young man, he became transfigured to me." ... "the last time i saw dr. wallace," writes prof. t.d.a. cockerell of colorado, "was immediately after the darwin celebration at cambridge in . i was the first to give him the details concerning it, and vividly remember how interested he was, and how heartily he laughed over some of the funny incidents, which may not as yet be told in print. one of his most prominent characteristics was his keen sense of humour, and his enjoyment of a good story." in the summer of he spent a holiday with prof. meldola at lyme regis. "after our ramble," said the professor, "we used to spend the evenings indoors, i reading aloud the 'ingoldsby legends,' which wallace richly enjoyed. his humour was a delightful characteristic. 'the inimitable puns of t. hood were,' he said, 'the delight of my youth, as is the more recondite and fantastic humour of mark twain and lewis carroll in my old age.'" * * * * * wallace loved to give time and trouble in aiding young men to start in life, especially if they were endeavouring to become naturalists. he sent them letters of advice, helped them in the choice of the right country to visit, and gave them minute practical instructions how to live healthily and to maintain themselves. he put their needs before other and more fortunate scientific workers and besought assistance for them. "the central secret of his personal magnetism lay in his wide and unselfish sympathy," writes prof. poulton.[ ] "it might be thought by those who did not know wallace that the noble generosity which will always stand as an example before the world was something special--called forth by the illustrious man with whom he was brought in contact. this would be a great mistake. wallace's attitude was characteristic, and characteristic to the end of his life. "a keen young naturalist in the north of england, taking part in an excursion to the new forest, called on wallace and confided to him the dream of his life--a first-hand knowledge of tropical nature. when i visited 'old orchard' in the summer of , i found that wallace was intently interested in two things: his garden, and the means by which his young friend's dream might best be realised. the subject was referred to in seventeen letters to me; it formed the sole topic of some of them. it was a grand and inspiring thing to see this great man identifying himself heart and soul with the interests of one--till then a stranger--in whom he recognised the passionate longings of his own youth. by the force of sympathy he re-lived in the life of another the splendid years of early manhood." the late prof. knight recalled meeting him at the british association in dundee, during the year , when wallace was his guest for the usual time of the gathering. he wrote: i, and everyone else who then met him at my house, were struck, as no one could fail to be, by his rare urbanity, his social charm, his modesty, his unobtrusive strength, his courtesy in explaining matters with which he was himself familiar but those he conversed with were not; and his abounding interest, not only in almost every branch of science, but in human knowledge in all its phases, especially new ones. he was a many-sided scientific man, and had a vivid sense of humour. he greatly enjoyed anecdote, as illustrative of character. during those days he talked much on the fundamental relations between science and philosophy, as well as on the connection of poetry with both of them. when he left dundee he went to kenmore, that he might ascend ben lawers in search of some rare ferns. in i saw him, after meeting thomas carlyle and dean stanley at linlathen, when darwin's theory was much discussed, and when our genial host--mr. erskine--talked so dispassionately but decidedly against evolution as explanatory of the rise of what was new. a little later in the same year matthew arnold discussed the same subject with some friends at the athenæum club, defending the chief aim of darwin's theory, and enlarging from a different point of view what wallace had done in the same direction. i remember well that he characterised the two men as fellow-workers, not as followers, or in any sense as copyists. wallace's versatility not only continued, but grew in many ways with the advance of years. it was seen in his appreciation of the value of historical study. quite late in life he wrote: "the nineteenth century is quite as wonderful in the domain of history as in that of science." comparatively few know, or remember, that he and his young brother herbert--on whom he left an interesting chapter _in memoriam_--both wrote verses, some of which were of real value. it may be safely said that few scientific men have sympathetically entered into bordering territories and therein excelled. the whole field of psychical research was familiar to him, and he might have been a leader in it. my last meeting with him was at his final home, the "old orchard," broadstone, in . i was staying at boscombe in hants, and he asked me to "come and see his garden, while we talked of past days." he had then the freshness of boyhood, blent with the mellow wisdom of age.--w.a.k. the eminent naturalist and traveller, dr. henry o. forbes, who later explored the greater part of the lands visited by wallace, contributes the following appreciation of the latter's scientific work: as a traveller, explorer and working naturalist, wallace will always stand in the first rank, compared even with the most modern explorers. it ought not to be forgotten, however, how great were the difficulties, the dangers and the cost of travel fifty years ago, compared with the facilities now enjoyed by his successors, who can command steam and motor transport to wellnigh any spot on the coasts of the globe, and who have to their hand concentrated and preserved foods, a surer knowledge of the causes of tropical diseases, and outfits of non-perishable medicines sufficient for many years within the space of a few cubic inches. commissariat and health are the keys to all exploration in uncivilised regions. wallace accomplished his work on the shortest of commons and lay weeks at a time sick through inability to replenish his medical stores. he was no mere "trudger" over new lands. where those before him, and even many after him, have been able to see only sterile objects, his discerning eyes perceived everywhere a meaning in the varying modes of organic life, and in response to his sympathetic mind nature revealed to him more of her multitudinous secrets than to most others. wallace's amazonian travels were far from unfruitful, in spite of the irreparable loss he sustained in the burning of his notes and the bulk of his collections in the vessel by which he was returning home; but it was in the malay archipelago that his most celebrated years of investigation were passed, which marked him as one of the greatest naturalists of our time. as a methodical natural history collector--which is "the best sport in the world" according to darwin--he has never been surpassed; and few naturalists, if any, have ever brought together more enormous collections than he. the mere statement, taken from his "malay archipelago," of the number of his captures in the archipelago in six years of actual collecting, exceeding , specimens--a number greater than the entire contents of many large museums--still causes amazement. the value of a collection, however, depends on the full and accurate information attached to each specimen, and from this point of view only a few collections, including darwin's and bates's, have possessed the great scientific value of his. wallace's eastern explorations included nearly all the large and the majority of the smaller islands of the archipelago. many of them he was the first naturalist to visit, or to reside on. ceram, batjian, buru, lombok, timor, aru, ke and new guinea had never been previously scientifically investigated. when in "the first and greatest of the naturalists," as dr. wollaston styles wallace, visited new guinea, it was "the first time that any european had ventured to reside alone and practically unprotected on the mainland of this country," which, dangerous as it is now in the same regions, was infinitely more so then. of the journals of his voyagings, "the malay archipelago" will always be ranked among the greatest narratives of travel. the fact that this volume has gone through a dozen editions is witness to its extraordinary popularity among intelligent minds, and hardly supports the belief that his scientific work has been forgotten. nor can this popularity be a matter of much surprise, for few travellers have possessed wallace's powers of exposition, his lucidity and charm of style. professor strasburger of bonn has declared that through "the malay archipelago" "a new world of scientific knowledge" was unfolded before him. "i feel it ... my duty," he adds, "to proclaim it with gratitude." wallace's narrative has attracted during the past half-century numerous naturalists to follow in his tracks, many of whom have reaped rich aftermaths of his harvest; but certain it is that no explorer in the same, if in any other, region has approached his eminence, or attained the success he achieved. as a systematic zoologist, wallace took no inconsiderable place; his _métier_, however, was different. he described, nevertheless, large sections of his lepidoptera and of his birds, on which many valuable papers are printed in the _transactions_ of the learned societies and in various scientific periodicals. of the former, special mention may be made of that on variation in the "papilionidæ of the malayan region," of which darwin has recorded: "i have never in my life been more struck by any paper." of the latter, reference may be drawn to his account of the "pigeons of the malay archipelago" and his paper on the "passerine birds," in which he proposed an important new arrangement of the families of that group (used later in his "geographical distribution") based on the feathering of their wings. without a lengthy search through the zoological records, it would be impossible to say how many species wallace added to science; but the constant recurrence in the catalogue of birds in the british museum of "wallacei" as the name bestowed on various new species by other systematists, and of "wallace" succeeding those scientifically named by himself, is an excellent gauge of their very large number. in the field of anthropology wallace could never be an uninterested spectator. he took a deep interest, he tells us, in the study of the various races of mankind. his accounts of the amazonian tribes suffered greatly by the loss of his journals; but of the peoples of the malay archipelago he has given us a most interesting narrative, detailing their bodily and mental characteristics, and showing how their distribution accorded with that of the fauna on the opposite sides--malays to the west, papuans to the east--of wallace's line. if fuller investigation of the new guinea tribes requires some modification in regard to their origin, his observations, as broadly outlined then, remain true still. his opinions on the origin of the australian aborigines--that they were a low and primitive type of caucasian race--which, when first promulgated, were somewhat sceptically received, are now those accepted by many very competent anthropologists. wallace's contributions to geographical science were only second in importance to those he so pre-eminently made to biology. though skilled in the use of surveying instruments, he did little or no map-making--at all times a laborious and lengthy task--for, with more important purposes in his mind, he could not spare the time, nor did the limitations to his movements permit any useful attempt. yet he did pure geographical work quite as important. the value of the comparative study of the flora and fauna of neighbouring regions, the great differences in the midst of much likeness between the organic life of neighbouring land masses, was a subject that was always in wallace's mind during his exploration of the amazon valley, for he perceived that the physical geography and the distribution of these animals and plants were of the greatest service in elucidating their history where the geological record was defective. as is well known, the visual inspection of the geological structure of tropical countries is always difficult and often impossible to make out because of the dense vegetation upon the surface and even the faces of the river gorges. but for the loss of his collections and notes we should have had from wallace's pen a physical history of the amazon. this loss was, however, amply made up by his very original contributions to the geography of the malay archipelago. "the zoological geography of the malay archipelago" and "the physical geography of the malay archipelago" (written on eastern soil, with the texts of his discourses around him) were the forerunners of his monumental "geographical distribution of animals," elaborated in england after his return. "to the publication of the 'geographical distribution of animals' we owe the first scientific study of the distribution of organic life on the globe, which has broadened ever since, and continues to interest students daily; his brilliant work in natural history and geography ... is universally honoured," are the opinions of dr. scott speaking as president of the linnean society of london. one of wallace's most important contributions to the physical geography of the malay region was his discovery of the physical differences between the western and the eastern portions of the archipelago; i.e. that the islands lying to the east of a line running north from the middle of the straits of bali and outside celebes were fragments of an ancient and larger australian continent, while those to the western side were fragments of an asiatic continent. this he elucidated by recognising that the flora and fauna on the two sides of the line, close though these islands approached each other, were absolutely different and had remained for ages uncommingled. this line was denominated "wallace's line" by huxley, and this discovery alone would have been sufficient to associate his name inseparably with this region of the globe.--h.o.f. like darwin, wallace gave excessive attention to the suggestions and criticisms of people who were obviously ignorant of the subjects about which they wrote. he was never impatient with honest ignorance or considered the lowly position of his correspondents. he replied to all letters of inquiry (and he received many from working men), and always gave his best knowledge and advice to anyone who desired it. there was not the faintest suggestion of the despicable sense of superiority about him. "i had, of course, revelled in 'the malay archipelago' when a boy," says prof. cockerell, "but my first personal relations with dr. wallace arose from a letter i wrote him after reading his 'darwinism,' then (early in ) recently published. the book delighted me, but i found a number of little matters to criticise and discuss, and with the impetuosity of youth proceeded to write to the author, and also to send a letter on some of the points to _nature_. i have possibly not yet reached years of discretion, but in the perspective of time i can see with confusion that what i regarded as worthy zeal might well have been characterised by others as confounded impudence. in the face of this, the tolerance and kindness of dr. wallace's reply is wholly characteristic: 'i am very much obliged to you for your letter containing so many valuable emendations and suggestions on my "darwinism." they will be very useful to me in preparing another edition. living in the country with but few books, i have often been unable to obtain the _latest_ information, but for the purpose of the argument the facts of a few years back are often as good as those of to-day--which in their turn will be modified a few years hence.... you appear to have so much knowledge of details in so many branches of natural history, and also to have thought so much on many of the more recondite problems, that i shall be much pleased to receive any further remarks or corrections on any other portions of my book.' this letter, written to a very young and quite unknown man in the wilds of colorado, who had merely communicated a list of more or less trifling criticisms, can only be explained as an instance of dr. wallace's eagerness to help and encourage beginners. it did not occur to him to question the propriety of the criticisms, he did not write as a superior to an inferior; he only saw what seemed to him a spark of biological enthusiasm, which should by all means be kindled into flame. many years later, when i was at his house, he produced with the greatest delight some letters from a young man who had gone to south america and was getting his first glimpse of the tropical forest. what discoveries he might make! what joy he must have on seeing the things described in the letter, such things as dr. wallace himself had seen in brazil so long ago!" wallace's critical faculty was always keen and vigilant. unlike some critics, however, he relished genuine and well-informed criticism of his own writings. flattery he despised; whilst the charge of dishonesty aroused strongest resentment. deceived he might be, but he required clear proof that his own eyes and ears had led him astray. romanes, who had propounded the forgotten theory of physiological selection, charged wallace with adopting it as his own. this was not only untrue, it was ridiculous; and wallace, after telling him so and receiving no apology, dropped him out of his recognition. during romanes' illness mr. thiselton-dyer wrote to wallace and sought to bring about a reconciliation, and wallace replied: * * * * * _parkstone, dorset. september , ._ my dear thiselton-dyer,--i am sorry to hear of romanes' illness, because i think he would have done much good work in carrying out experiments which require the leisure, means and knowledge which he possesses. i cannot, however, at all understand his wishing to have any communication from myself. i do not think i ever met romanes in private more than once, when he called on me more than twenty years ago about some curious psychical phenomena occurring in his own family; and perhaps half a dozen letters--if so many--may have passed between us since. there is therefore no question of personal friendship disturbed. i consider, however, that he made a very gross misstatement and personal attack on me when he stated, both in english and american periodicals, that in my "darwinism" i adopted his theory of "physiological selection" and claimed it as my own, and that my adoption of it was "unequivocal and complete." this accusation he supported by such a flood of words and quotations and explanations as to obscure all the chief issues and render it almost impossible for the ordinary reader to disentangle the facts. i told him then that unless he withdrew this accusation as publicly as he had made it i should decline all future correspondence with him, and should avoid referring to him in any of my writings. this is, of course, very different from any criticism of my theories; that, or even ridicule, would never disturb me; but when a man has made an accusation of literary and scientific dishonesty, and has done all he can to spread this accusation over the whole civilised world, my only answer can be--after showing, as i have done (_see nature_, vol. xliii., pp. and ), that his accusations are wholly untrue--to ignore his existence. i cannot believe that he can want any sympathy from a man he says has wilfully and grossly plagiarised him, unless he feels that his accusations were unfounded. if he does so, and will write to me to that effect (for publication, if i wish, after his death), i will accept it as full reparation and write him such a letter as you suggest.--believe me yours very faithfully, alfred r. wallace. * * * * * sir w.t. thiselton-dyer to a.r. wallace _kew. september , ._ dear mr. wallace,--i am afraid i have been rather guilty of an impertinence which i hope you will forgive. romanes is an old acquaintance of mine of many years' standing. personally, i like him very much; but for his writings i confess i have no great admiration. pray believe me i had no mission of any sort on his part to write to you. but i feel so sorry for him that when he told me how much he regretted that he did not stand well with you, i could not resist writing to tell you of the calamities that have befallen him. i must confess i was in total ignorance of what you tell me. i don't see how, under the circumstances, you can do anything. i was never more surprised in my life, in fact, than when i read your letter. the whole thing is too childishly preposterous. romanes laments over _me_ because he says i wilfully misunderstand his theory. the fact is, poor fellow, that i do not think he understands it himself. if his life had been destined to be prolonged i should have done all in my power to have induced him to occupy himself more with observation and less with mere logomachy. i cannot get him to face the fact that natural hybrids are being found to be more and more common amongst plants. at the beginning of the century it was supposed that there were some sixty recognisable species of willows in the british isles: now they are cut down to about sixteen, and all the rest are resolved into hybrids.--ever sincerely, w.t. thiselton-dyer. * * * * * wallace was a seeker after truth who was never shy of his august mistress, whatever robes she wore. "i feel within me," wrote darwin to henslow, "an instinct for truth, or knowledge, or discovery, of something of the same nature as the instinct of virtue." this was equally true of wallace. he had a fine reverence for truth, beauty and love, and he feared not to expose error. he paid no respect to time-honoured practices and opinions if he believed them to be false. vaccination came under his searching criticism, and in the face of nearly the whole medical faculty he denounced it as quackery condemned by the very evidence used to defend it. he very carefully examined the claims of phrenology, which had been laughed out of court by scientific men, and he came to the conclusion that "in the present (twentieth) century phrenology will assuredly attain general acceptance. it will prove itself to be the true science of the mind. its practical uses in education, in self-discipline, in the reformatory treatment of criminals, and in the remedial treatment of the insane, will gain it one of the highest places in the hierarchy of the sciences; and its persistent neglect and obloquy during the last sixty years of the nineteenth century will be referred to as an example of the almost incredible narrowness and prejudice which prevailed among men of science at the very time they were making such splendid advances in other fields of thought and discovery."[ ] wallace was not even scared out of his wits by ghosts, for, unlike coleridge, he believed in them although he thought he had seen many. whether truth came from the scaffold or the throne, the séance or the sky, it did not alter the truth, and did not prejudice or overbear his judgment. he shed his early materialism (which temporarily took possession of him as it did of many others as a result of the shock following the overwhelming discoveries of that period) when he was brought face to face with the phenomena of the spiritual kingdom which withstood the searching test of his keen observation and reasoning powers. prejudices, preconceived notions, respect for his scientific position or the opinions of his eminent friends or the reputation of the learned societies to which he belonged--all were quietly and firmly put aside when he saw what he recognised to be the truth. if his fellow-workers did not accept it, so much the worse for them. he stood four-square against the onslaught of quasi-scientific rationalism, which once threatened to obliterate all the ancient landmarks of morality and religion alike. he made mistakes, and he admitted and corrected them, because he verily loved truth for her own sake. and to the very end of his long life he kept the windows of his soul wide open to what he believed to be the light of this and other worlds. he was, then, a man of lofty ideals, and his idealism was at the base of his opposition to the materialism which boasted that natural selection explained all adaptation, and that physics could give the solution of huxley's poser to spencer: "given the molecular forces in a mutton chop, deduce hamlet and faust therefrom," and which regarded mind as a quality of matter as brightness is a quality of steel, and life as the result of the organisation of matter and not its cause. "we have ourselves," wrote prof. h.f. osborn in an account of wallace's scientific work which wallace praised, "experienced a loss of confidence with advancing years, an increasing humility in the face of transformations which become more and more mysterious the more we study them, although we may not join with this master in his appeal to an organising and directing principle." but profound contemplation of nature and of the mind of man led wallace to belief in god, to accept the divine origin of life and consciousness, and to proclaim a hierarchy of spiritual beings presiding over nature and the affairs of nations. "whatever," writes dr. h.o. forbes, "may be the last words on the deep and mysterious problems to which wallace addressed himself in his later works, the unquestioned consensus of the highest scientific opinion throughout the world is that his work has been for more than half a century, and will continue to be, a living stimulus to interpretation and investigation, a fertilising and vivifying force in every sphere of thought." it is perhaps unprofitable to go further than in previous chapters into his so-called heresies--political, scientific or religious. yet we may imitate his boldness and ask whether he was not, perhaps, in advance of his age and whether his heresies were not shrewd anticipations of some truth at present but partially revealed. take the example of spiritualism, which, i suppose, has more opponents than anti-vaccination. no one can overlook the fact that spiritualism has many scientific exponents--myers, crookes, lodge, barrett and others. prejudices against spiritualism are as unscientific as the credulity which swallows the mutterings of every medium. podmore's two ponderous volumes on the history of spritualism are marred by an obvious anxiety to make the very least, if not the very worst, of every phenomenon alleged to be spiritualistic. that kind of deliberate and obstinate blindness which prided itself on being the clear cold light of science wallace scorned and denounced. he did not insist upon spiritualistic manifestations shaping themselves according to his own predesigned moulds in order to be investigated. he watched for facts whatever form they assumed. he fully recognised that the phenomena he saw and heard could be easily ridiculed, but behind them he as fully believed that he came into contact with spiritual realities which remain, and which led him to other explanations of the higher faculties of man and the origin of life and consciousness than were acceptable to the materialistic followers of haeckel, büchner and huxley. and who dares dogmatically to assert in the name of science and in the second decade of the twentieth century, when the deeper meanings of evolution are being revealed, and the philosophy of bergson is spoken about on the housetops, that he was wrong? in these views may he not become the peer of darwin? at first blush it may seem to be a bad example of special pleading to attempt to discover the reason for his opposition to vaccination in his idealism. but it is not far from the truth. he believed in a ministry of public health, that doctors should be servants of the state, and that they should be paid according as they kept people well and not ill. health is the natural condition of the human body when it is properly sustained and used. and chemicals, even in sickness, are of less importance than fresh air, light and proper food. he ridiculed, too, the notion of unhealthy places. "it is like," he wrote to mr. birch, "the old idea that every child must have measles, and the sooner the better." to the same correspondent, who was contemplating going into virgin forests and who expressed his fear of malaria, he replied: "there is no special danger of malaria or other diseases in a dense forest region. i am sure this is a delusion, and the dense virgin forests, even when swampy, are, in a state of nature, perfectly healthy to live in. it is man's tampering with them, and man's own bad habits of living, that render them unhealthy. having now gone over all spruce's journals and letters during his twelve years' life in and about the amazonian forests, i am sure this is so. and even where a place is said to be notoriously 'malarious,' it is mostly due not to infection only but to predisposition due to malnutrition or some bad mode of living. a person living healthily may, for the most part, laugh at such terrors. neither i nor spruce ever got fevers when we lived in the forests and were able to get wholesome food." "health," he said to the present writer, "is the best resistant to disease, and not the artificial giving of a mild form of a disease in order to render the body immune to it for a season. vaccination is not only condemned upon the statistics which are used to uphold it, but it is a false principle--unscientific, and therefore doomed to fail in the end." besides which, he believed in mental healing, and had recorded definite and certain benefit from spiritual "healers." and he reminded himself that amongst doctors (witness the blind opposition encountered by lister's discoveries) were found from time to time not a few enemies of the true healing art, and obstinate defenders of many forms of quackery. wallace made no claim to be an original investigator. he knew his limitations, and said again and again that he could not have conducted the slow and minute researches or have accumulated the vast amount of detailed evidence to which darwin, with infinite patience, devoted his life. he was genuinely glad that it had not fallen to his lot to write "the origin of species." he felt that his chief faculty was to reason from facts which others discovered. yet he had that original insight and creative faculty which enabled him to see, often as by flashlight, the explanation which had remained hidden from the eyes of the man who was most familiar with the particular facts, and he elaborated it with quickening pulse, anxious to put down the whole conception which filled his mind lest some portion of it should escape him. therein lay one secret of his great genius. he often said that he was an idler, but we know that he was a patient and industrious worker. his idleness was his way of describing his long musings, waiting the bidding of her whom god inspires--truth, who often hides her face from the clouded eyes of man. for hours, days, weeks, he was disinclined to work. he felt no constraining impulse, his attention was relaxed or engaged upon a novel, or his seeds, or the plan of a new house, which always excited his interest. then, apparently suddenly, whilst in one of his day-dreams, or in a fever (as at ternate, to recall the historical episode when the theory of natural selection struck him), an explanation, a theory, a discovery,[ ] the plan of a new book, came to him like a flash of light, and with the plan the material, the arguments, the illustrations; the words came tumbling one over the other in his brain, and as suddenly his idleness vanished, and work, eager, prolonged, unwearying, filled his days and months and years until the message was written down and the task fully accomplished. whilst writing he referred to few books, but wrote straight on, adding paragraph to paragraph, chapter to chapter, without recasting or revision.[ ] and the result was fresh, striking, original. it was a creation. the work being done, he relapsed into his busy idleness. the truth, as he saw it, seemed to come to him. some people called him a prophet, but he was not conscious of that high calling. i do not remember him saying that he was only a messenger. perhaps later, when he was reviewing his life, he connected his sudden inspirations with a higher source, but for their realisation he relied upon a foundation of veritable facts, facts patiently accumulated, a foundation laid broad and deep. he had the vision of the prophet allied with the wisdom of the philosopher and the calm mental detachment of the man of science. perhaps another explanation of his genius may be found in his open-mindedness. truth found ready access to his conscience, and always a warm welcome, and he saw with open eyes where others were stone-blind. he belonged to our common humanity. no caste or acquired pride or unapproachable intellectualism cut him off from the people. his simple humanness made him one with us all. and his humanity was singularly comprehensive. it led him, for instance, to investigate the subject of suffering in animals. he noticed that all good men and women rightly shrank from giving pain to them, and he set himself to prove that the capacity for pain decreased as we descended the scale of life, and that poets and others were mistaken when they imputed acute suffering to the lower creation, because of the very restricted response of their nervous system. even in the case of the human infant, he concluded that only very slight sensations are at first required, and that such only are therefore developed. the sensation of pain does not, probably, reach its maximum till the whole organism is fully developed in the adult individual. "this," he added, with that characteristic touch which made him kin to all oppressed people, "is rather comforting in view of the sufferings of so many infants needlessly sacrificed through the terrible defects of our vicious social system." to wallace pain was the birth-cry of a soul's advance--the stamp of rank in nature is capacity for pain. pain, he held, was always strictly subordinated to the law of utility, and was never developed beyond what was actually needed for the protection and advance of life. this brings the sensitive soul immense relief. our susceptibility to the higher agonies is a condition of our advance in life's pageant. take another instance. amongst his numerous correspondents there were not a few who decided not to take life, for food, or science, or in war. one young man who went out with the assistance of wallace to trinidad and brazil to become a naturalist, and to whom he wrote many letters[ ] of direction and encouragement, gave up the work of collecting--to wallace's sincere disappointment--and came home because he felt that it was wrong to take the lives of such wondrous and beautiful birds and insects. another correspondent, who had joined the navy, wrote a number of long letters to wallace setting forth his conscientious objections to killing, arrived at after reading wallace's books; and although wallace endeavoured from prudential considerations to restrain him from giving up his position, he nevertheless wholly sympathised with him and in the end warmly defended him when it was necessary to do so. the sacrifice, too, of human life in dangerous employments for the purpose of financial gain, no less than the frightful slaughter of the battlefield, was abhorrent to wallace and aroused his intensest indignation. life to him was sacred. it had its origin in the spiritual kingdom. "we are lovers of nature, from 'bugs' up to 'humans,'" he wrote to mr. fred birch. by every means he laboured earnestly to secure an equal opportunity of leading a useful and happy life for all men and women. he championed the cause of women--of their freer life and their more active and public part in national service. he found the selective agency, which was to work for the amelioration he desired, in a higher form of sexual selection, which will be the prerogative of women; and therefore woman's position in the not distant future "will be far higher and more important than any which has been claimed for or by her in the past." when political and social rights are conceded to her on equality with men, her free choice in marriage, no longer influenced by economic and social considerations, will guide the future moral progress of the race, restore the lost equality of opportunity to every child born in our country, and secure the balance between the sexes. "it will be their (women's) special duty so to mould public opinion, through home training and social influence, as to render the women of the future the regenerators of the entire human race." he was acutely anxious that his ideals should be realised on earth by the masses of the people. he had a large and noble vision of their future. and he had his plan for their immediate redemption--national ownership of the soil, better housing, higher wages, certainty of employment, abolition of preventable diseases, more leisure and wider education, not merely for the practical work of obtaining a livelihood but to enable them to enjoy art and literature and song. his opposition to eugenics (to adopt the word introduced by galton, which wallace called jargon) sprang from his idealism and his love of the people, as well as from his scientific knowledge. on the social side he thought that eugenics offered less chance of a much-needed improvement of environment than the social reforms which he advocated, whilst on the scientific side he believed that the attempt, with our extremely limited knowledge, to breed men and women by artificial selection was worse than folly. he feared that, as he understood it, eugenics would perpetuate class distinctions, and postpone social reform, and afford quasi-scientific excuses for keeping people "in the positions nature intended them to occupy," a scientific reading of the more offensive saying of those who, having plenty themselves, believe that it is for the good of the lower classes to be dependent upon others. "clear up," he said to the present writer one day, when we drifted into a warm discussion of the teachings of eugenists; "change the environment so that all may have an adequate opportunity of living a useful and happy life, and give woman a free choke in marriage; and when that has been going on for some generations you may be in a better position to apply whatever has been discovered about heredity and human breeding, and you may then know which are the better stocks." "segregation of the unfit," he remarked to an interviewer after the eugenic conference, at which much was unhappily said that wholly justified his caustic denunciation, "is a mere excuse for establishing a medical tyranny. and we have enough of this kind of tyranny already ... the world does not want the eugenist to set it straight.... eugenics is simply the meddlesome interference of an arrogant scientific priestcraft." thus his radicalism and his so-called fads were born of his high aspirations. he was not the recluse calmly spinning theories from a bewildering chaos of observations, and building up isolated facts into the unity of a great and illuminating conception in the silence and solitude of his library, unmindful of the great world of sin and sorrow without. he could say with darwin, "i was born a naturalist"; but we can add that his heart was on fire with love for the toiling masses. he had felt the intense joy of discovering a vast and splendid generalisation, which not only worked a complete revolution in biological science, but has also illuminated the whole field of human knowledge. yet his greatest ambition was to improve the cruel conditions under which thousands of his fellow-creatures suffered and died, and to make their lives sweeter and happier. his mind was great enough and his heart large enough to encompass all that lies between the visible horizons of human thought and activity, and even in his old age he lived upon the topmost peaks, eagerly looking for the horizon beyond. in the words of the late mr. gladstone, he "was inspired with the belief that life was a great and noble calling; not a mean and grovelling thing that we are to shuffle through as we can, but an elevated and lofty destiny." * * * * * but we must not be tempted into further disquisition. as he grew older the public press as well as his friends celebrated his birthdays. congratulations by telegram and letter poured in upon him and gave him great pleasure. minor poets sang special solos, or joined in the chorus. one example may be quoted: alfred russel wallace th january, a little cot back'd by a wood-fring'd height, where sylvan usk runs swiftly babbling by: here thy young eyes first look'd on earth and sky, and all the wonders of the day and night; o born interpreter of nature's might, lord of the quiet heart and seeing eye, vast is our debt to thee we'll ne'er deny, though some may own it in their own despite. now after fourscore teeming years and seven, our hearts are jocund that we have thee still a refuge in this world of good and ill, when evil triumphs and our souls are riv'n; a friend to all the friendless under heav'n; a foe to fraud and all the lusts that kill. o champion of the truth, whate'er it be! world-wand'rer over this terrestrial frame; twin-named with darwin on the roll of fame; this day we render homage unto thee; for in thy steps o'er alien land and sea, where life burns fast and tropic splendours flame. oft have we follow'd with sincere acclaim to mark thee unfold nature's mystery. for this we thank thee, yet one thing remains shall shrine thee deeper in the heart of man, in ages yet to be when we are dust; thou hast put forth thy hand to rend our chains, our birthright to restore from feudal ban; o righteous soul, magnanimous and just! w. braunston jones. sir william barrett, one of wallace's oldest friends, visited him during the last year of his life, and thus describes the visit: in the early summer of , some six months before his death, i had the pleasure of paying another visit and spending a delightful afternoon with my old friend. his health was failing, and he sat wrapped up before a fire in his study, though it was a warm day. he could not walk round his garden with me as before, but pointed to the little plot of ground in front of the french windows of his study--where he had moved some of his rarer primulas and other plants he was engaged in hybridising--and which he could just manage to visit. his eyesight and hearing seemed as good as ever, and his intellectual power was undimmed.... dr. wallace then, pointing to the beautiful expanse of garden, woodland and sea which was visible from the large study windows, burst forth with vigorous gesticulation and flashing eyes: "just think! all this wonderful beauty and diversity of nature results from the operation of a few simple laws. in my early unregenerate days i used to think that only material forces and natural laws were operative throughout the world. but these i now see are hopelessly inadequate to explain this mystery and wonder and variety of life. i am, as you know, absolutely convinced that behind and beyond all elementary processes there is a guiding and directive force; a divine power or hierarchy of powers, ever controlling these processes so that they are tending to more abundant and to higher types of life." this led dr. wallace to refer to my published lecture on "creative thought" and express his hearty concurrence with the line of argument therein; in fact he had already sent me his views, which, with his consent, i published as a postscript to that lecture. then our conversation turned upon recent political events, and it was remarkable how closely he had followed, and how heartily he approved, the legislation of the liberal government of the day. his admiration for mr. lloyd george was unfeigned. "to think that i should have lived to see so earnest and democratic a chancellor of the exchequer!" he exclaimed, and he confidently awaited still larger measures which would raise the condition of the workers to a higher level; and nothing was more striking than his intense sympathy with every movement for the relief of poverty and the betterment of the wage-earning classes. the land question, we agreed, lay at the root of the matter, and land nationalisation the true solution. in fact, ever since i read the proof-sheets of his book on this subject, which he corrected when staying at my house in kingstown, i have been a member of the land nationalisation society, of which he was president. needless to say, dr. wallace was an ardent home ruler and free trader,[ ] but on the latter question he said there should be an export duty on coal, especially the south wales steam coal, as our supply was limited and it was essential for the prosperity of the country--and "the purchaser pays the duty," he remarked. i heartily agreed with him, and said that a small export duty _had_ been placed on coal by the conservative government, but subsequently was removed. this he had forgotten, and when later on i sent him particulars of the duty and its yield, he replied saying that at that time he was so busy with the preparation of a book that he had overlooked the fact. he wrote most energetically on the importance of the government being wise in time, and urged at least a s. export duty on coal. we talked about the question of a portrait of dr. wallace being painted and presented to the royal society, which had been suggested by the rev. james marchant, to whom dr. wallace referred, when talking to me, in grateful and glowing terms.--w.f.b. perhaps it should be added to sir william barrett's reminiscences that the movement which was set on foot to carry out this project was stayed by wallace's death. during the last years of his life his pen was seldom dry. his interest in science and in politics was fresh and keen to the closing week. he wrote "social environment and moral progress" in , at the age of . the book had a remarkable reception. leading articles and illustrated reviews appeared in most of the daily newspapers. the book, into which he had put his deepest thoughts and feelings upon the condition of society, was hailed as a virile and notable production from a truly great man. after this was issued, he saw another, "the revolt of democracy," through the press. but this did not exhaust his activities. he entered almost immediately into a contract to write a big volume upon the social order, and as a side issue to help, as is mentioned in the introduction, in the production of an even larger book upon the writings and position of darwin and wallace and the theory of natural selection as an adequate explanation of organic evolution. age did not seem to weaken his amazing fertility of creative thought, nor to render him less susceptible to the claims of humanity, which he faced with a noble courage. in nobility of character and in magnitude, variety and richness of mind he was amongst the foremost scientific men of the victorian age, and with his death that great period, which was marked by wide and illuminating generalisations and the grand style in science, came to an end. apart altogether, however, from his scientific position and attainments, which set him on high, he was a noble example of brave, resolute, and hopeful endeavour, maintained without faltering to the end of a long life. and this is not the least valuable part of his legacy to the race. when henslow died, huxley wrote to hooker: "he had intellect to comprehend his highest duty distinctly, and force of character to do it; which of us dare ask for a higher summary of his life than that? for such a man there can be no fear in facing the great unknown; his life has been one long experience of the substantial justice of the laws by which this world is governed, and he will calmly trust to them still as he lays his head down for his long sleep." let that also stand as the estimate of wallace by his contemporaries, an estimate which we believe posterity will confirm. and to it we may add that death, which came to him in his sleep as a gentle deliverer, opened the door into the larger and fuller life into which he tried to penetrate and in which he firmly believed. if that faith be founded in truth, darwin and wallace, yonder as here, are united evermore. * * * * * i am writing these concluding words on the second anniversary of his death. before me there lies the telegram which brought me the sad news that he had "passed away very peacefully at . a.m., without regaining consciousness." he was in his ninety-first year. it was suggested that he should be buried in westminster abbey, beside charles darwin, but mrs. wallace and the family, expressing his own wishes as well as theirs, did not desire it. on monday, november th, he was laid to rest with touching simplicity in the little cemetery of broadstone, on a pine-clad hill swept by ocean breezes. he was followed on his last earthly journey by his son and daughter, by miss mitten, his sister-in-law, and by the present writer. mrs. wallace, being an invalid, was unable to attend. the funeral service was conducted by the bishop of salisbury (dr. ridgeway), and among the official representatives were prof. raphael meldola and prof. e.b. poulton representing the royal society; the latter and dr. scott representing the linnean society, and mr. joseph hyder the land nationalisation society. a singularly appropriate monument, consisting of a fossil tree-trunk from the portland beds, has been erected over his grave upon a base of purbeck stone, which bears the following inscription: alfred russel wallace, o.m. born jan. th, , died nov. th, a year later, on the th of december, , his widow died after a long illness, and was buried in the same grave. she was the eldest daughter of mr. william mitten, of hurstpierpoint, an enthusiastic botanist, and in no mean degree she inherited her father's love of wild flowers and of the beautiful in nature. it was this similarity of tastes which led to her close intimacy and subsequent marriage, in , with wallace. their married life was an exceedingly happy one. she was able to help him in his scientific labours, and she provided that atmosphere in the home life which enabled him to devote himself to his many-sided enterprises. and nothing would give him more joy than to know that this book is dedicated to her memory. [illustration: the grave of alfred russel and annie wallace] soon after wallace's death a committee was formed (with prof. poulton as chairman and prof. meldola as treasurer) to erect a memorial, and the following petition was sent to the dean and chapter of westminster abbey: we, the undersigned, earnestly desiring a suitable national memorial to the late alfred russel wallace, and believing that no position would be so appropriate as westminster abbey, the burial-place of his illustrious fellow-worker charles darwin, petition the right reverend the dean and chapter for permission to place a medallion in westminster abbey. we further guarantee, if the medallion be accepted, to pay the abbey fees of £ . arch. geikie william crookes a.b. kempe e. ray lankester d.h. scott d. prain a.e. shipley raphael meldola p.a. macmahon john w. judd oliver j. lodge e.b. poulton a. strahan h.h. turner j. larmor w. ramsay silvanus p. thompson john perry james marchant (hon. sec.) to which the dean replied: _the deanery, westminster, s.w. december , ._ dear mr. marchant,--i have pleasure in informing you that i presented your petition at our chapter meeting this morning, and a glad and unanimous assent was accorded to it. i should be glad later on to be informed as to the artist you are employing; and probably it would be as well for him and you and some members of the royal society to meet me and the chapter and confer together upon the most suitable and artistic arrangement or rearrangement of the medallions of the great men of science of the nineteenth century. nothing could have been more satisfactory or impressive than the document with which you furnished me this morning. i hope to get it specially framed.--yours sincerely, herbert e. ryle. mr. bruce-joy, who had made an excellent medallion of dr. wallace during his lifetime, accepted the commission to fashion the medallion for westminster abbey, and it was unveiled, by a happy but undesigned coincidence, on all souls' day, november , together with medallions to the memory of sir joseph hooker and lord lister. in the course of his sermon, the dean said--and with these words we may well conclude this book: "to-day there are uncovered to the public view, in the north aisle of the choir, three memorials to men who, i believe, will always be ranked among the most eminent scientists of the last century. they passed away, one in , one in , and one in . they were all men of singularly modest character. as is so often observable in true greatness, there was in them an entire absence of that vanity and self-advertisement which are not infrequent with smaller minds. it is the little men who push themselves into prominence through dread of being overlooked. it is the great men who work for the work's sake without regard to recognition, and who, as we might say, achieve greatness in spite of themselves. [illustration: the wallace and darwin medallions in the north aisle of the choir of westminster abbey] "alfred russel wallace was a most famous naturalist and zoologist. he arrived by a flash of genius at the same conclusions which darwin had reached after sixteen years of most minute toil and careful observation.... it was a unique example of the almost exact concurrence of two great minds working upon the same subject, though in different parts of the world, without collusion and without rivalry.... between darwin and wallace goodwill and friendship were never interrupted. wallace's life was spent in the pursuit of various objects of intellectual and philosophical interest, over which i need not here linger. all will agree that it is fitting his medallion should be placed next to that of darwin, with whose great name his own will ever be linked in the worlds of thought and science. "all will acknowledge the propriety of these three great names being honoured in this abbey church, even though it be, to use wordsworth's phrase, already 'filled with mementoes, satiate with its part of grateful england's overflowing dead.' "these are three men whose lifework it was to utilise and promote scientific discovery for the preservation and betterment of the human race." appendix lists of wallace's writings i.--books date title "palm trees on the amazon" "a narrative of travels on the amazon and rio negro." new edition in "the minerva library," "the scientific aspect of the supernatural" "the malay archipelago," vols. tenth edition, vol., "contributions to the theory of natural selection." republished, with "tropical nature," "miracles and modern spiritualism." revised edition, "the geographical distribution of animals," vols. "tropical nature and other essays." printed in vol. with "natural selection," "australasia." "stanford's compendium of geography and travel." (new issue, ) "island life." revised edition, "land nationalisation" "bad times" "darwinism." rd edition, "the wonderful century." new edition, "studies, scientific and social" "the wonderful century reader" "vaccination a delusion" "man's place in the universe." new edition, . cheap s. edition, "my life," vols. new edition, vol., "is mars habitable?" "notes of a botanist on the amazon and andes," by richard spruce. edited by a.r. wallace "the world of life" "social environment and moral progress" "the revolt of democracy" ii.--articles, papers, reviews, etc. _the articles marked with an asterisk were republished in wallace's "studies, scientific and social."_ -----------------+---------------------+---------------------------------- date | periodical or | subject | society | --------+--------+---------------------+---------------------------------- | | proc. zool. soc., | on the umbrella bird | | lond. | | | " " | monkeys of the amazon | - | trans. entomol. | on the habits of the butterflies | | soc. | of the amazon valley | | zoologist | on the habits of the hesperidæ | | proc. zool. soc., | on some fishes allied to gymnotus | | lond. | june | | entomolog. soc. | on the insects used for food by | | | the indians of the amazon june | | royal geograph. soc.| the rio negro | - | zoologist | letters from singapore and borneo | - | trans. entomol. | description of a new species of | | soc. | ornithoptera | | annals and mag. | on the ornithology of malacca | | of nat. hist. | | | journ. bot. | botany of malacca | | zoologist | the entomology of malacca sept. | | annals and mag. | on the law which has regulated | | of nat. hist. | the introduction of new species | | " " | some account of an infant | | | orang-outang | | " " | on the orang-outang or mias of | | | borneo dec. | | " " | on the habits of the orang-outang | | | of borneo | | " " | attempts at a natural arrangement | | | of birds nov. | | chambers's journ. | a new kind of baby | | journ. bot. | on the bamboo and durian of borneo | | zoologist | observations on the zoology of | | | borneo | - | trans. entomol. | on the habits, etc., of a species | | soc. | of ornithoptera inhabiting the | | | aru islands | - | " " | letters from aru islands and from | | | batchian dec. | | annals and mag. | natural history of the aru islands | | of nat. hist. | | | " " | on the great bird of paradise | | proc. geograph. | notes of a journey up the sadong | | soc. | river | | " " | on the aru islands | | zoologist | note on the theory of permanent | | " " | and geographical varieties | | " " | on the entomology of the aru | | | islands | - | trans. entomol. | note on the sexual differences in | | soc. | the genus lomaptera | | annals and mag. | correction of an important error | | of nat. hist. | affecting the classification of | | | the _psittacidæ_ | | proc, linn. soc. |on the tendency of varieties to | | (iii. ) | depart indefinitely from the | | | original type[ ] oct. | | ibis |geographical distribution of birds dec. | | entomolog. soc. |note on the habits of scolytidæ and | | | bostrichidæ | | journ. geograph. |notes of a voyage to new guinea | | soc. | | | ibis |the ornithology of north celebes | | proc. zool, soc., |notes on semioptera wallacii | | lond. | | | proc. linn. soc. |zoological geography of malay | | (iv. ) | archipelago | | ibis |on the ornithology of ceram and | | | waigiou | | " |notes on the ornithology of timor | | proc. and journ. |on the trade between the eastern | | geogr. soc. | archipelago and new guinea | | | and its islands | | proc. zool. soc., |list of birds from the sula islands | | lond. | | | ibis |on some new birds from the northern | | | moluccas | | proc. zool. soc., |narrative of search after birds of | | lond. | paradise | | " |on some new and rare birds from new | | | guinea | | " |description of three new species | | | of _pitta_ from the moluccas | | annals and mag. |on the proposed change in name of | | of nat. hist. | _gracula pectoralis_ | | entomol. journ. |notes on the genus _iphias_ | | ibis |note on _corvus senex _and _corvus | | | fuscicapillus_ | | " |notes on the fruit-pigeons of genus | | | _treron_ | | intellectual |the bucerotidæ, or hornbills | | observer | | | proc. zool, soc. |list of birds collected on island | | lond. | of bouru april | | zoologist |who are the humming-bird's | | | relations? june | | royal geograph. |physical geography of the malay | | soc. | archipelago | | proc, zool. soc., |on the identification of _hirundo | | lond. | esculenta_, linn. | | " |list of birds inhabiting the | | | islands of timor, flores and | | | lombok | | annals and mag. |on the rev. s. haughton's paper on | | of nat. hist. | the bee's cell and the origin of | | | species jan. | | nat. hist. rev. |some anomalies in zoological and | | | botanical geography jan. | |edinburgh new |ditto | | journ. (philos.) | | | proc. zool. soc., | parrots of the malayan region | | lond. | | | anthropol. soc. | the origin of human races and the | | journ. | antiquity of man deduced from | | | natural selection | | proc. entom. soc. | effect of locality in producing | | and zoologist | change of form in insects | | proc. entom. soc. | views on polymorphism | | ibis | remarks on the value of | | | osteological characters in the | | | classification of birds | | " | remarks on the habits, | | | distribution, etc., of the genus | | | _pitta_ | | " | note on _astur griseiceps_ | | nat. hist. rev. | bone caves in borneo | | proc. zool. soc., | list of the land shells collected | | lond. | by mr. wallace in the malay | | | archipelago jan. | | trans. ethnolog. | on the progress of civilisation in | | soc. | north celebes jan. | | " | on the varieties of man in the | | | malay archipelago | | proc. zool. soc., | descriptions of new birds from the | | lond. | malay archipelago june | | reader | how to civilise savages* oct. | | ibis | pigeons of the malay archipelago | | trans. linn. soc. | on the phenomena of variation and | | (xxv.) (abstract | geographical distribution as | | in reader, april, | illustrated by papilionidæ of | | ) | the malayan region | | proc. zoo. soc., | list of lepidoptera collected by | | lond. | swinton at takow, formosa | | proc. entomol. }| exposition of the theory of | | soc. }| mimicry as explaining anomalies | | zoologist }| of sexual variation | | intellectual | the philosophy of birds' nests | | observer | jan. | | quarterly journ. | ice-marks in north wales | | of sci. | april | | " | the polynesians and their | | | migrations* july | | westminster rev. | mimicry and other protective | | | resemblances among animals sept. | | science gossip | disguises of insects oct. | | quarterly journ. | creation by law | | of sci. | | | proc. entomol. }| | | soc. }| a catalogue of the cetoniidæ of | | trans. entomol. }| the malayan archipelago, etc. | | soc. }| jan. | | ibis | raptorial birds of the malay | | | archipelago | | trans. entomol. | on the pieridæ of the indian and | | soc. | australian regions | | --- | the limits of natural selection | | | applied to man* | | trans. entomol. | note on the localities given in | | soc. | the "longicornia malayana" | | journ. of travel | a theory of birds' nests | | and nat. hist. | april | | quarterly rev. | reviews of lyell's "principles | | | of geology" (entitled | | | "geological climates and | | | origin of species") | | macmillan's mag. | museums for the people* | | trans. entomol. | notes on eastern butterflies ( | | soc. | parts) | | brit. association | on a diagram of the earth's | | report | eccentricity, etc. march | | academy | review of darwin's "descent of | | | man" may | | entomolog. soc. | address on insular faunas, etc. | | " | the beetles of madeira and | | | their teachings* nov. | | ---- | reply to mr. hampden's charges | | journ. linnean soc. | introduction to f. smith's | | | catalogue of aculeate | | | hymenoptera, etc. jan. | | times | spiritualism and science april | | macmillan's mag. | disestablishment and | | | disendowment, with a proposal | | | for a really national church | | | of england* sept. | | daily news | coal a national trust* dec. | | contemp. rev. | limitation of state functions | | | in the administration of | | | justice* jan. | | academy | reviews of mivart's "man and | | | apes" and a.j. mott's "origin | | | of savage life" april | | ---- | review of w. marshall's | | | "phrenologist amongst the | | | todas" april | | ---- | review of g. st. clair's | | | "darwinism and design" | | ibis | on the arrangement of the | | | families constituting the | | | order passeres may | | academy | review of mivart's "lessons | | | from nature" | | proc. geograph. | the comparative antiquity of | | soc. | continents july | | quarterly journ. of | review of carpenter's | | sci. | "mesmerism and spiritualism," | | | etc. sept. | | macmillan's mag. | the colours of animals and and oct.| | | plants nov. | | fraser's mag. | the curiosities of credulity dec. | | fortnightly rev. | humming-birds dec. | } | athenæum | {correspondence with w.b. jan. | } | " | { carpenter on spiritualism nov. | | fortnightly rev. | epping forest, and how to deal | | | with it feb. | | contemp. rev. | new guinea and its inhabitants april | | academy | review of haeckel's "evolution | | | of man" july | | nineteenth cent. | reciprocity: a few words in | | | reply to mr. lowe* july | | quarterly rev. | glacial epochs and warm polar | | | climates jan. | | nineteenth cent. | the origin of species and | | | genera* oct. | | academy | review of a.h. swinton's | | | "insect variety" nov. | | contemp. rev. | how to nationalise the land* | | | dec. | | academy | review of seebohm's "siberia in | | | europe" | | rugby nat. hist. | abstract of four lectures on | | soc. rept. | the natural history of | | | islands dec. | | contemp. rev. | monkeys: their affinities and | | | distribution* aug. and| | macmillan's mag. | the why and how of land sept. | | | nationalisation* march | | christn. socialist | the morality of interest--the | | | tyranny of capital | | claims of labour | the depression of trade* | | lectures | mar. | | banner of light | letter "_in re_ mrs. ross | | | (washington, d.c.)" mar. | | independ. rev. | review of e.d. cope's "origin | | | of the fittest" | | nation |" oct. | | fortnightly rev. | american museums* | | ---- | the action of natural selection | | | in producing old age, decay | | | and death june | | land nationalisation| address | | soc. | sept. | | fortnightly rev. | progress without poverty (human | | | selection)* oct. | | " | english and american flowers* dec. | | " | flowers and forests of the far | | | west* jan. | | arena | human progress, past and | | | future* | | address to l.n.s. | herbert spencer on the land | | | question* aug. | | nineteenth cent. | why i voted for mr. gladstone aug. and| | natural sci. | the permanence of great ocean dec. | | | basins* nov. | | fortnightly rev. | our molten globe* dec. | | natural sci. | note on sexual selection feb. | | nineteenth cent. | inaccessible valleys* mar. and| | arena | the social quagmire and the way apr. | | | out of it* apr. and| | fortnightly rev. | are individually acquired may | | | characters inherited?* nov. | | " | the ice age and its work* dec. | | " | erratic blocks, etc. lake | | | basins* | | arena | the bacon-shakespeare case april | | land nationalisation| address on parish councils | | soc. | june | | natural sci. | the palearctic and nearctic | | | regions compared as regards | | | families and genera of | | | mammalia and birds june | | contemp. rev. | how to preserve the house of | | | lords* july | | land and labour | review of f.w. hayes' "great | | | revolution of " sept. | | natural sci. | the rev. g. henslow on natural | | | selection* | | smithsonian rep. | method of organic evolution oct. | | nineteenth cent. | a counsel of perfection for | | | sabbatarians* | | | | | vox clamantium | economic and social justice* feb. and| | fortnightly rev. | method of organic evolution* march | | | oct. | | " | expressiveness of speech or | | | mouth-gesture as a factor in | | | the origin of language* | | agnostic annual | why live a moral life?* may | | contemp. rev. | how best to model the earth* july | | labour leader | letter on international labour | | | congress aug. | | fortnightly rev. | the gorge of the aar and its | | | teaching* dec. | | journ. linn. soc. | the problem of utility: are | | (v. ) | specific characters always or | | | generally useful? march | | natural sci. | problem of instinct* | | "forecasts of | re-occupation of land, solution | | coming century" | of the unemployed problem* march | | lancet | letter on vaccination may | | shrewsbury chron. | letter to dr. bond and a.k.w. | | | on vaccination june ,| | | , ,| | echo |" aug. | | | sept. | | the eagle and the | darwinism and nietzscheism in | | serpent | sociology | | printed for private | justice not charity (address to | | circulation | international congress of | | | spiritualists, london, june, | | | )* dec. | | academy | paper money as a standard of | | | value* feb., | | journ. soc. | letters on mr. podmore _re_ march,| | psychical res. | clairvoyance, etc. april | | | may | | l'humanité | the causes of war and the | | nouvelle | remedies* nov. | | clarion | letter on the transvaal war | | n.y. independent | white men in the tropics* | | | | | n.y. sun | evolution nov. | | n.y. journ. | social evolution in the | | | twentieth century: an | | | anticipation | | ---- | ralahine and its teachings* | | ---- | true individualism the | | | essential preliminary of a | | | real social advance* | | morning leader | an appreciation of the past | | | century jan. | | black and white | relations with darwin march | | fortnightly rev. | man's place in the universe sept. | | " | man's place in the universe. | | | reply to critics oct. | | academy | the wonderful century. reply to | | | dr. saleeby nov. | | daily mail | does man exist in other worlds? | | | reply to critics jan. | | clarion | anticipations for the immediate | | | future, written for the | | | _berliner lokalanzeiger_, and | | | refused feb., | | fortnightly rev. | an unpublished poem by e.a. april | | | poe, "leonainie" apr., | | independent rev. | birds of paradise in the may | | | arabian nights | | anti-vaccination | summary of the proofs that | | league | vaccination does not prevent | | | small-pox, but really | | | increases it | | labour annual | inefficiency of strikes | | clarion | letter on opposition to | | | military expenditure | | vaccination | letter on inconsistency of the | | inquirer | government on vaccination oct. | | daily news | why not british guiana? five | | | acres for s. d. nov. | | independent rev. | the native problem in south | | | africa and elsewhere jan. | | fortnightly rev. | personal suffrage, a rational | | | system of representation and | | | election feb. | | " | a new house of lords | |harmsworth's "history| how life became possible on the | | of the world" | earth sept. | | public opinion | letter on sir w. ramsay's | | | theory: did man reach his | | | highest development in the | | | past? jan. | | n.y. world | cable on advance in science in | | | jan. | | outlook | letter on woman jan. | | fortnightly rev. | evolution and character june and| | socialist rev. | the remedy for unemployment july | | | july | | times | letter on the first paper on | | | natural selection july | | delineator | are the dead alive? aug. | | public opinion | is it peace or war? a reply aug. | | contemp. rev. | present position of darwinism sept. | | new age | letter on nationalisation, not | | | purchase, of railways dec. | | contemp. rev. | darwinism _v._ wallaceism christ | | christian | on the abolition of want -mas | | commonwealth | jan. | | royal institution | the world of life, as | | | visualised, etc., by | | | darwinism feb. | | clarion pamphlet | the remedy for unemployment | | (? socialist rev.)| feb. | | daily news | flying machines in war feb. | | daily mail | charles darwin (centenary) feb. | | clarion | the centenary of darwin march | | fortnightly rev. | the world of life (revised | | | lecture) april | | daily news | letter on aerial fleets april | | " | man in the universe oct. | | public opinion | a new era in public opinion jan. | | daily chronicle | letter on the insurance act aug. | | daily news | a policy of defence sept. | | ---- | the nature and origin of life iii.--letters, reviews, etc., in "nature" --------+----------+------+-------------------------------------------- vol. | page | date | subject --------+----------+------+-------------------------------------------- i. | | | origin of species controversy " | | " | " " " " | , | | government aid to science " | , | " | measurement of geological time " | | " | hereditary genius ii. | | " | pettigrew's "handy book of bees" " | | " | a twelve-wired bird of paradise " | | " | early history of mankind " | | " | speech on the arrangement of specimens | | " | in a natural history museum (british | | " | association) " | | " | glaciation of brazil iii. | , | " | man and natural selection " | , | " | " " " " | | " | mimicry versus hybridity " | | | leroy's "intelligence and perfectibility of | | | animals" " | | " | theory of glacial motion " | | " | duncan's "metamorphoses of insects" " | | " | dr. bevan's "honey bee" " | | " | anniversary address at the entomological | | " | society " | | " | sharpe's monograph of the alcedinidæ iv. | | " | staveley's "british insects" " | | " | dr. bastian's work on the origin of life " | | " | h. howorth's views on darwinism " | | " | " " " " | | " | recent neologisms " | | " | canon kingsley's "at last" v. | | | the origin of insects " | | " | ethnology and spiritualism vi. | | " | the last attack on darwinism (reviews) " | , | " | bastian's "beginnings of life" " | | " | ocean circulation " | | " | speech on diversity of evolution (british | | | association) " | | " | houzeau's "faculties of man and | | | animals" vii. | | " | misleading cyclopædias " | | | modern applications of the doctrine of " | | | natural selection (reviews) " | | " | inherited feeling " | | " | j.t. moggridge's "harvesting ants and | | | trapdoor spiders" " | | " | cave deposits of borneo viii. | | | natural history collections in the east | | | india museum " | , | " | perception and instinct in the lower " | | | animals " | | " | dr. page's textbook on physical geography " | | " | works on african travel (reviews) " | | " | lyell's "antiquity of man" ix. | | " | dr. meyer's exploration of new guinea " | | | belt's "naturalist in nicaragua" " | | " | david sharp's "zoological nomenclature" " | , | " | animal locomotion x. | | " | migration of birds " | | " | automatism of animals xii. | | | lawson's "new guinea" xiv. | | | opening address in biology section, british " | | | association " | | " | erratum in address to biology section, " | | | british association " | | " | reply to reviewers of "geographical " | | | distribution of animals" " | | " | "races of men" " | | | glacial drift in california " | | " | the "hog-wallows" of california xvi. | | " | zoological relations of madagascar and " | | | africa xvii. | | " | mr. wallace and reichenbach's odyle " | | " | the radiometer and its lessons " | | " | bees killed by tritoma " | | " | the comparative richness of faunas and " | | | floras tested numerically " | | " | mr. crookes and eva fay " | | | northern affinities of chilian insects xviii. | | " | a twenty years' error in the geography of " | | | australia xix. | | " | remarkable local colour-variation in " | | | lizards " | , | " | the formation of mountains " | | | " " " " | | " | organisation and intelligence " | , | " | grant allen's "colour sense" " | | " | did flowers exist during the | | | carboniferous epoch xx. | | " | butler's "evolution, old and new" " | | " | mccook's "agricultural ants of texas" " | | " | reply to reviewers of wallace's " | | | "australasia" xxi. | | | reply to everett on wallace's "australasia" xxii. | | " | two darwinian essays xxiii. | , ,| " | geological climates | | | " | , | " | new guinea " | | " | climates of vancouver island and " | | " | bournemouth " | | " | correction of an error in "island life" xxiv. | | | tyler's "anthropology" xxiv. | | | weismann's "studies in the theory of | | | descent" xxv. | | " | carl bock's "head-hunters of borneo" " | | | grant allen's "vignettes from nature" " | | " | houseman's "story of our museum" xxvi. | | " | weismann's "studies in the theory of | | | descent" " | | " | müller's "difficult cases of mimicry" xxvii. | | | " " " " | | " | on the value of the neo-arctic as one of the | | | primary zoological regions xxviii. | | " | w.f. white's "ants and their ways" xxxi. | | | colours of arctic animals xxxii. | | " | h.o. forbes's "a naturalist's wanderings | | | in the eastern archipelago" xxxiii. | | | victor hehn's "wanderings of plants and | | | animals" xxxiv. | | " | h.s. gorham's "central american entomology" " | | " | physiological selection and the origin of | | | species xxxv. | | | mr. romanes on physiological selection xxxvi. | | " | the british museum and the american | | | museums xxxix. | | | which are the highest butterflies? (quotations | | | from letter of w.h. edwards) xl. | | " | lamarck _versus_ weismann xli. | | " | protective coloration of eggs xlii. | | | e.b. poulton's "colours of animals" " | | " | birds and flowers xliii. | , | " | romanes on physiological selection " | | | c. lloyd morgan's "animal life and | | | intelligence" " | | " | remarkable ancient sculptures from north-west | | | america xliv. | | " | david syme's "modification of organisms" xlvi. | | " | variation and natural selection xlv. | | " | topical selection and mimicry " | | | w.h. hudson's "the naturalist in la | | | plata" xlvi. | | " | correction in "island life" xlvii. | | " | an ancient glacial epoch in australia " | , | " | the earth's age " | | | the glacial theory of alpine lakes " | | " | w.h. hudson's "idle days in patagonia xlviii. | | " | h.o. forbes's discoveries in the chatham | | | islands " | | " | intelligence of animals " | | " | the glacier theory of alpine lakes " | | " | the non-inheritance of acquired characters " | | " | pre-natal influences on character " | | " | habits of south african animals " | | " | the supposed glaciation of brazil xlix. | | | the recent glaciation of tasmania " | , | " | sir w. howorth on "geology in nubibus" " | | " | recognition marks " | , | | the origin of lake basins " | | " | j.h. stirling's "darwinianism, workmen and | | | work" " | | " | b. kidd's "social evolution" " | | " | what are zoological regions? (read at cambridge | | | natural science club) l. | | " | panmixia and natural selection " | | " | nature's method in the evolution of life li. | | | tan spots over dogs' eyes " | | " | the age of the earth lii. | | " | uniformitarianism in geology " | | " | h. dyer's "evolution of industry" " | | " | the discovery of natural selection liii. | | | the cause of an ice age " | | " | the astronomical theory of a glacial period " | | " | e.d. cope's "primary factors of organic | | | evolution" " | | " | g. archdall reid's "present evolution of man" lv. | | | e.b. poulton's "charles darwin and the theory | | | of natural selection" lix. | | | the utility of specific characters lxi. | | | is new zealand a zoological region? lxvii. | | | genius and the struggle for existence lxxv. | | | fertilisation of flowers by insects lxxvi. | | " | the "double drift" theory of star motions =======+==========+======+================================================= index a "acclimatisation," wallace's article on, ii. acquired characters, non-inheritance of (_see_ non-inheritance) africa, flora of, i. agassiz, louis, attacks darwin's "origin of species," i. ; glacial theories of, ; on diversity of human races, ii. alexandria, wallace at, i. - allbutt, sir clifford, theory of generation, i. allen, charles (wallace's assistant), i. , , , , , , , , , ---- grant, on origin of wheat, ii. ; wallace and, alpine plants, i. , amazon and rio negro, wallace's exploration of, i. - amboyna, wallace at, i. america, wallace's lecture tour in, ii. "anatomy of expression," bell's, i. "ancient britain and the invasions of julius cæsar," holmes's, ii. angræcum sesquipedale, i. (note) animals and plants, distribution of, darwin's views, i. "---- ---- under domestication," i. ---- geographical distribution of, i. , ; migration of, lyell's theory, ii. "antarctic voyage," scott's, ii. "anthropology," tyler's, wallace's review of, ii. ; his interest in, _et seq._ antiseptic treatment, medical opposition to, ii. ants, instincts of, i. apis testacea, i. archebiosis, i. - argus pheasant, i. , , argyll, duke of, i. , , , ii. ; his theory of flight, - arnold, matthew, on darwin's theory, ii. aru islands, distribution of animals in, i. ; productions of, ---- pig, i. , , astronomy, wallace's works on, ii. _et seq._; lectures at davos on, "australasia," wallace's, i. australia, fauna and flora of, ii. , , - ---- wallace invited to lecture in, ii. avebury, lord, i. , , ; signs memorial to city corporation in wallace's favour, ; and the civil list pension to wallace, ---- letter from, on wallace's biography, and spiritualism, ii. azores, birds of, i. ; orchids of, b "bad times," wallace's, ii. , baer, von, ii. bahamas, flora of, ii. baker, j.g., on alpine plants of madagascar, i. - balfour, francis, i. bali, fauna of, ii. - ball, sir robert, on solar nebula, ii. "barnacles," darwin's, ii. barrett, sir w.f., paper on "phenomena associated with abnormal conditions of the mind," ii. ; on wallace as lecturer, ; inquiry into dowsing, etc., ; invites wallace's criticism of "creative thought," ; last visit to wallace, - ---- letters from: on presidency of psychical research society, ii. - ; on a supreme directive power, - bartlett, on colouring of male birds, i. bates, f., i. ---- h.w., i. , ; explores the amazon, - ---- ---- letter from, on "law regulating introduction of new species," i. bates's caterpillar, i. , bateson, prof., sir w.t. thiselton-dyerson, ii. ---- "material for study of variation," ii. - bats, fruit-eating, i. _beagle_, darwin's voyage in the, i. , , , , "------, voyage of the," i. , , , ii. bee's cell, prof. haughton's paper on the, i. bees' combs, i. ; a honeycomb from timor, , beetles, darwin's zeal for collecting, i. ; wallace's study of, ; south american, ; wallace's collection of, , "beginnings of life," bastian's, i. bell, sir c., i. belt, mr., glacial theory of, i. bendyshe, mr., i. bennett, a.w., i. bentham, g., i. bergson, wallace on, ii. bermuda, birds of, i. best, miss dora, letter to, on welsh offer of a degree to wallace, ii. biology and geographical distribution, wallace's works on, ii. - ; correspondence on, - ---- "grand old men" of, ii. (note) birch, mr. f., ii. , - bird of paradise, i. , , , birds, flight of, i. - , ii. _et seq._; colour problem of, i. , , , - , , , (note), ; polygamous, , ; migration of, ii. , ; instincts of, birds' nests, i. , , , , "---- ---- and plumage," wallace's, i. "---- ---- philosophy of," wallace's, i. , ii. , blackbird, crested, i. blainville, d., i. blandford, h.f., i. blood relationship, galton on, i. blyth, e., i. blytt, axel, essay on plants of scandinavia, i. borneo, wallace's collections from, i. ; cave exploration, ---- company, i. , , boston (u.s.a.), wallace's lectures at, ii. botany, darwin's study of, at cambridge, i. ; wallace's study of, , , ii. "----, elements of," lindley's, i. brazil, wallace's explorations in, i. bree, dr., i. (note), - british museum, original of wallace letter in, i. broadstone, funeral of wallace at, ii. bronn, h.g., translates "origin of species" into german, i. brooke, capt., i ---- h. jamyn, ii. ---- sir james, i. , , - , , bruce-joy, mr., portrait-medallion of wallace, ii. , buckle, rev. g., article by, on lyell's "principles," i. buckley, miss (mrs. fisher), i. , , , , , ii. , , ; reviews "descent of man," i. budd, dr. richard, ii. buffon and evolution, i. buru, wallace's collection of birds from, ii. bustards, i. butler, samuel, "life and habit," ii. butterflies, wallace's study of, i. ; of south america, ; of malay archipelago, - ; protective adaptation of, ; variation and distribution of, ; mimetic, , , , , (note), , , , , , ; sexual selection of, , (note); flight of, ii, c cambridge, darwin at, i. , ---- philosophical society, attacks on "origin of species" at, i. campbell-bannerman, sir henry, ii. carbon, deposits of, i. carlyle, thomas, ii. carpenter, dr., his controversies with wallace, ii. , carroll, lewis, wallace's quotations from, ii. casuarius, query from darwin on, i. caterpillars, colouring of, i. , , , , , , celebes, i. , , ; geological distribution in, "cessation of selection," ii. chambers, robert, i. , , child's "root principles," ii. clairvoyance, ii. , , . (_see also_ spiritualism) claparède, critique of, on wallace's "natural selection," i. , clarke, prof., attacks darwin at cambridge philosophical society, i. clarkson, thomas, ii. cleistogamic flowers, i. climates, geological, wallace's theory of, i. climatic conditions, plants and, i. "climbing plants, movements and habits of," darwin's, i, , ii. coal, export duties on, wallace's view of, ii. cockerell, sydney c., ii. ---- theo. d.a., ii. ; and the darwin celebration at cambridge, ; first personal relations with wallace, - "coleoptera atlantidum," wollaston's, ii. - "colin clout's calendar," ii. coloration, protective, i. , , - , , , , - , , , , _et seq._, , , , ii. , , . (_see also_ protection, mimicry) colour-adaptability, ii. confucius, wallace's appreciation of, ii. conscience, evolution of, i. "contributions to the theory of natural selection," wallace's, i. , , , ii. , cooke, kate, medium, ii. , , co-operation, wallace on, ii. - cope, e.d., ii. copley medals awarded to wallace, ii. , coral islands, lyell on, ii. "---- reefs," darwin's, ii. ---- snakes, i. crawford, marion, one of wallace's favourite authors, ii. "creation by law," wallace's article on, i. , , ii. "creative thought," sir wm. barrett's, ii. - , "creed of science," graham's, i. croll, james, i. , , , ii. , crookes, sir w., and psychical research, ii. , , , ; and westminster abbey memorial to wallace, cross- and self-fertilisation, i. , , ii. "cross unions of dimorphic plants," darwin's, i. "crossing plants," darwin's, i. crotch, g., i. d "darwin and after darwin," romanes', ii. "---- and his teachings," i. "---- and 'the origin,'" poulton's, ii. (note) ----, charles, i. , ; birth of, ; autobiography, , (note); ancestors, ; at shrewsbury grammar school, ; natural history tastes, ; as angler, ; egg-collecting, ; humanity of, ; leaves shrewsbury grammar school, ; fondness for shooting, ; at cambridge, ; medical studies, ; theological studies, , ii. ; tours in north wales, i. ; beetle-hunting, , ; voyage in the _beagle_, ; theory of natural selection, , ; reading, ; visits maer and shrewsbury, ; experiments, ; huxley and, ; at work on species and varieties, ; at down, ; receives presentation copy of spencer's essays, ; appreciation of wallace's magnanimity, , , , , , , , , , ; falls from his horse, ; on wallace's review of "descent of man," - ; criticism of wallace's "geographical distribution," , ; at dorking, ; promotes memorial to city corporation in favour of wallace, ; acknowledgment of "island life," - ; on migration of plants, (note), ; memorial to gladstone on behalf of wallace, ; death of, darwin, charles, letters to wallace: on "law regulating introduction of new species," etc., i. , ii. ; on distribution of animals, i. ; on his "origin of species," etc., , ; on wallace's "zoological geography of the malay archipelago," ; inviting wallace's opinion of the "origin," ; on protective adaptation of butterflies, ; on press reviews of "origin," , ; on theory of flight, ; on wallace as reviewer, ; on wallace's "variation" and his paper on man, ; on sexual selection, ; on wallace's papers on pigeons and parrots, ; on the aru pig, ; on the crested blackbird, etc., ; on wallace's "pigeons of malay archipelago" and dimorphism, ; on the non-blending of varieties, ; on the term "survival of the fittest," ; on sexual differences in fishes, ; on colour of caterpillars, ; on coloration and expression in man, ; on sexual selection and expression, ; on scheme for his work on man, ; on laws of inheritance, etc., ; on wallace's "mimicry," ; on wallace's reply to duke of argyll, ; on sexual selection and collateral points, ; on pangenesis and sterility of hybrids, ; on production of natural hybrids, etc., ; on sexual selection, , , ; on northern alpine flora, ; on wallace's article on "birds' nests," and on mimetic butterflies, ; on sir clifford allbutt's sperm-cell theory, and on female protected butterflies, ; on wallace's "protective resemblance," ; on dimorphic plants and colour protection, ; on the colour problem of birds, , , ; on fifth edition of "origin of species," ; on single variations, ; on wallace's "malay archipelago," , , ; on wallace's review of lyell's "principles," ; on baffling sexual characters, ; on wallace's paper, "geological time," ; on wallace's views on man, , ; on wallace's "natural selection," ; on wallace's criticism of bennett's paper, ; on his "descent of man" and st. g. mivart, ; on wallace's review of "descent of man," ; on chauncey wright's criticism of mivart, ; on a _quarterly_ review, , ; on fritz müller's letter on mimicry, ; on dr. bree, , ; on bastian's "beginnings of life," , ; on ants, ; criticising wallace's review of "expression of the emotions," ; on spencer and politics, ; on utricularia, ; on wallace's "geographical distribution of animals," , , ; on wallace's article on colours of animals, etc., ; on wallace's "origin of species and genera," ; on wallace's "island life," ; on land migration of plants, ; on memorial for wallace pension, , ; on mimicry, ; on political economy and "creed of science," ; on land question, ----, erasmus, i. ; on the wallace-darwin episode, ---- sir francis, and "life and letters of charles darwin," i. , , , ---- sir g., expulsion theory of, ii. ----, mr. horace, letter from his father, on discoverers, ii. (note) ---- major leonard, i. , ---- dr. robert waring, i. , "darwinism," wallace's, i, , , ii. , , , , , ; plan of, - ; spencer's objection to title, davos, wallace's lecture at, ii. dawson, sir j.w., attack on natural selection, i. de rougemont, wallace on, ii. de vries on mutation, ii. , decaisne's paper on flora of timor, i. deformities, article on, in chambers's encyclopedia, ii. dendrobium devonianum, i. denudation, theory of, i. , , ii. , , deposition, theory of, i. , ii. , "descent of man," darwin's, i. , , , , (note), ii. , ; review in _pall mall gazette_, i. ; in _spectator_, "development of human races under law of natural selection," wallace's, ii. , "different forms of flowers and plants of the same species," darwin's, i. , ii. dimorphism, i. , , dipsomania, wallace on, ii. discontinuous variation, ii. , disuse, physiological effects of, i. divining rod, experiments with, ii. , - , dixey, dr., ii. domestic selection (_see_ selection, domestic) domestication, variation under, i. dowsing for water, etc., ii. , - , dunraven, lord, and psychical research, ii. "duration of life," weismann's, ii. , dyaks, i. , e earl, w., on distribution of animals in malay archipelago, i. "early history of mankind," tylor's, i. , earth, formation of, ii. ; wallace's views on, _et seq._ "earthworms," darwin's, i. , ii. edinburgh, darwin in, i. , education, wallace's views of, ii. edwards, w.h., "voyage up the amazon," i. eight hours' day, wallace on, ii. "encyclopedia of plants," london's, i. , , entomological society, i. ; discussion on mimicry at, ; wallace's presidential address to, eocene period, i. , epping forest, superintendency of, wallace and, i. - , erotylidæ, i. erskine of linlathen on evolution, ii. "essays on evolution," poulton's, ii. (note), (note), , "---- upon heredity," weismann's, ii. , , eugenics, ii. , ; term disliked by wallace, , ; and segregation of unfit, letter from wallace on, evans, miss, ii. evil, origin of, ii. evolution, theory of, lamarck and, i. , ; lyell and, , , ; as conceived in "vestiges of creation," , (note) _et seq._; darwin and, _et seq._, - ; notable converts to, , , , , , ; wallace's views on, , , , ii. , , ; sir w.t. thiselton-dyer on, , . (_see also_ selection) "---- and adaptation," morgan's, ii. ---- and mendelism, wallace on, ii. "evolution of the stellar system, researches on," ii. "---- theories of," poulton's, ii. "evolutionist at large," ii. "expanse of heaven," proctor's, ii. "exposition of fallacies in the hypotheses of darwin," bree's, i. (note), - "expression, anatomy of," bell's, i. ---- in the malays, i. , "---- of the emotions," darwin's, i. , ii. ; review of, i. - "expressiveness of speech, etc., in the origin of language," wallace's, ii. f facsimile of wallace's inscription on envelope containing his first eight letters from darwin, i. faraday on spiritualism, ii. farmer, w.j., ii. farrer, mr., i. fauna, british, i. felis of timor, i. fellenberg and r.d. owen, ii, ferns, lawrence on, ii. "fertilisation of orchids," darwin's, i. (note), ii. ---- self- and cross-, i. , , ii. finger-prints, gallon's papers on, ii. - "first principles," spencer's, wallace's admiration of, i. fish, sexual differences in, i. fisher, mrs. (_see_ buckley, miss) ---- o., "physics of the earth's crust," wallace on, ii. fitzroy, capt., i. flight, theory of, i. - , ii. _et seq._ flora, endemic, ii. "floral structures," henslow's, ii. flourens' criticism of darwin's theory, i. flowers, tropical, i. ; cleistogamic, flustra, darwin's article on larvæ of, i. forbes, dr. henry, ii. (note); estimation of wallace, - , ---- prof., i. , , , , , , forel and darwin, i, , "forms of flowers," darwin's, i. fossils, i. "foundations," sir f. darwin's, ii. free trade and monopoly, wallace's views on, ii. "freeland," wallace's opinion of, ii. "fuel of the sun," m. williams's, i. - g galapagos islands, i. , ; fauna of, i. , ii. galaxias, i. galton, sir francis, on heredity, ii. ; on organic stability, ; introduces term eugenics, ---- letter from, on finger-marks, ii. - gärtner, i. geach, c., i. , , geddes, prof. patrick, ii. (note), , geikie, sir a., i. , ii. , general enclosure act, ii. "genesis of species," mivart's, i. , , - , , ii. geodephaga, exotic, i. geographical distribution and biology, wallace's writings on, ii. - ; correspondence on, - "---- ---- of animals," wallace's, i. , , ii. - , , , , - , - "---- ---- of mammals," murray's, i. "---- ---- of plants," sir w.t. thiselton-dyer's, ii. geographical distribution of plants and animals, i. , , ii. geography, old-time teaching of, i. ; organic, ; zoological, ii. "geological climates and the origin of species," wallace's, ii. ---- distribution of plants and animals, i. , , "---- history of man," lyell's, i. "---- observations on south america," darwin's, ii. ---- time, wallace's paper on, i. geology, darwin's studies in, i. , george, rt. hon. d. lloyd, wallace's letter to, on the railway strike, ii. ; wallace's admiration of, - , ---- henry, i. , ; meets wallace, ii. "germ plasm," weismann's, ii. "germinal selection," weismann's, ii. , glacial period, theory of, i. , , , , , , , , - , ii. , gladstone, w.e., recommends wallace for a pension, i. ---- letter from, on onomatopoeia, ii. - gould, dr. aug., on land shells, i. ----, john, list of humming-birds, ii. ; sclater's distrust of, graham's "creed of science," i. grant, dr., article on flustra, i. ; advocacy of evolution by, granville, lord, ii. gray, asa, i. , ; defends darwin, great exhibition of , i. greenell, mary ann (mrs. t.v. wallace), i. growth, economy of, ii. gurney, edmund, and telepathy, ii. h habinaria, i. "habit and intelligence," murphy's, i. , haeckel, prof., and the darwin-wallace jubilee, i. hall, john, sends wallace orchids from buenos ayres, ii. ---- spencer, lectures on mesmerism, ii. hardinge, mrs., medium, ii. , hare, prof. a., ii. hart, capt., i. haughton, prof. s., criticises darwin's "origin of species," i. ; on "the bee's cell and origin of species," haweis, rev. h.r., ii. hayward, mr., i. , heliconiidæ, i. helmes, l.v., reminiscences of wallace's visit to sarawak, i. - hemsley, dr. w.b., ii. henderson, rev. j.b., ii. henslow, prof., darwin's friendship with, i. ; defends darwin, herdman, mr., inaugural address to liverpool biological society, ii. heredity, weismann's essays on, ii. - , ; galton on, herschel, sir j., i. hertford grammar school, i. , heterogenesis, i. (note), , heterostyled plants, illegitimate offspring of, i. hodgson's psychical research report, ii. holland, sir h., on pangenesis, i. holmes, t. rice, ii. home, d.d., medium, ii. , home rule, wallace's advocacy of, ii. homer, onomatopoeic examples in, ii. , honeycomb sent by wallace to darwin, i. hooker, sir joseph, birth of, i. , ; on oak trees, ; and the darwin-wallace joint paper, , , , , , , , ; receives the darwin-wallace medal, ; speech at darwin-wallace jubilee, ; darwin's appreciation of, , ; introduction to "flora of australia," ; on pangenesis, ; visits darwin at freshwater, ; signs memorial to city corporation in wallace's favour, ; opinion on wallace's "island life," ----, sir joseph, letters from: on "island life," ii. - ; acknowledging wallace's "life," etc., - hopkins's review of the "origin of species," i. hopkinson, prof. a., and spiritualism, ii. howorth, sir h.h., on subsidence and elevation of land, i. hubrecht, prof., ii. ; alleges differences between darwin and wallace, hudson's "scientific demonstration of a future life," ii. huggins, sir w., and psychical research, ii. , hughes, hugh price, wallace's opinion of, ii. ---- letter from, on wallace's "justice, not charity," ii. humboldt's "personal narrative," i. , , humming-birds, ii. , huxley, t.h., i. , , , , ; meets wallace, ; appreciation of wallace, ; first interview with darwin, ; and herbert spencer, ; and the memorial to gladstone as to a pension for wallace, ; and psychical research, ii. ; opinion as to wallace joining royal society, ; on henslow, ---- letters from, declining wallace's invitation to investigate "curious phenomena," ii. - hybrids, sterility of, i. , _et seq._; and natural selection, _et seq._; infertility of, hyder, mr. j., ii. , hyndman, mr. h.m., letter from, acknowledging wallace's birthday congratulations, ii. i "ice-marks in north wales," wallace's, i. "illustrations of british insects," i. (note) "immigration of norwegian flora," blytt's, i. immortality, wallace's views on, ii. indian mutiny, i. indians, american, bates's opinion of, ii. individual adaptability and natural selection, ii. "insectivorous plants," darwin's, i. , , ii. insects, migration of, lyell on, ii. ; theory of flight, instinct, archdall reid's views of, ii. "---- in man and animals," wallace's, ii. "introduction to study of natural philosophy," herschel's, i. "is mars habitable?" wallace's, ii. "island life," wallace's, i. , , - , ii. , - , , , , islands, continental, i. , ii. ---- oceanic, i. , - , , ii. j jameson's lectures on geology and zoology in edinburgh, i. janet's "materialism of the present day," i. , , , jardine, sir w., criticism of "origin of species," i. java, birds of, i. ; flora of, ; mountains of, - ; volcanoes of, , jencken, mrs., ii. jenkin, fleeming, on limitations to variation, i. ; darwin on, , ; wallace on, jensen and de rougemont, ii. jessopp, rev. augustus, letter on land nationalisation, ii. joan of arc, works on, ii. jones, sir rupert, on miocene or old pliocene man in india, ii. ---- mr. w. braunston, birthday ode by, ii. jordan, mr., ii. josiah mason college, birmingham, wallace and, i. "journal of researches," darwin's, i. , , , judd, john w., and wallace medallion, ii. jukes, j.b., a supporter of darwin, i. k kane, mrs., ii. keltie, dr. j. scott, on wallace's exploration in brazil, i. kelvin, lord (_see_ thomson, sir w.) kempe, sir a.b., signs petition for wallace memorial, ii. keyerling and the darwinian theory, i. kidd, mr. benjamin, and "equality of opportunity," ii. kingsley, canon, letter to wallace on "malay archipelago," ii. - knight, prof., ii. ; his reminiscences of wallace, knollys, lord, ii. kolreuter, i. krefft, dr. g., i. kropotkin, prince, "memoirs of a revolutionist," i. l lamarck and evolution, i. , , lambs, instincts of, ii. land laws, wallace and, ii. ---- molluscs, darwin on, i. , , , ---- nationalisation, wallace and, ii. ---- ---- society, foundation of, ii. "---- ----," wallace's, i. , ii. , ---- shells, i. , , ---- tenure reform association, wallace and, ii. lankester, sir e. ray, receives darwin-wallace medal and speaks at jubilee celebration, i. ; replies to a darwin centenary article in the _times_, ii. ; a signatory to wallace memorial petition, larmor, sir j., and wallace national memorial, ii. "law regulating introduction of new species," wallace's, i. , , , , ii. , le gallienne, mr., meets wallace, ii. lecky's "rationalism," darwin on, i. ; wallace on, - "lectures on man," lawrence's, i. legge, col., conveys to wallace the order of merit, ii. lemuria, continent of, i. lepidoptera, colour-adaptability in, ii. lewes, g.h., and pangenesis, i. ; and origin of species, leyden museum, i. "lhasa," waddell's, ii. life after death, wallace's belief in, ii. "---- and habit," samuel butler's, ii. "---- and letters of charles darwin," i. , , , - , , (note), (note), (note), (note), ii. ----, origin of, spencer on, i. - ---- ---- wallace's views on, ii. "limits of natural selection as applied to man," wallace's, ii. lindley, dr., "elements of botany," i. ; article on orchids by, linnean society, darwin-wallace communication to, i. , , , , ; jubilee of event, _et seq._, ii. lip-expression, efficacy of, ii. littledale, dr., reminiscences of wallace, ii. - , lock's "variation, heredity, and evolution," ii. lodge, sir oliver, reply to haeckel, ii. ; romanes lecture, - ; address at psychical research society, ; and the national memorial to wallace, lombok, fauna of, ii. , lönnberg, prof., i. "looking backward," ii. lophura viellottii, i. loudon's "encyclopedia of plants," i. , , lowell, prof. percival, "mars and its canals," ii. , - lubbock, sir john (_see_ avebury, lord) lunn, sir h., meets wallace, ii. lyell, sir c., birth of, i. ; and the darwin-wallace joint essay, , , , , , , , , , ii. ; as evolutionist, i. , , ; on extinction of species, ; and wallace's "law regulating introduction of new species," ; defends darwin, ; on pangenesis, ; and the "fuel of the sun," ---- letters from: on "origin of races of man," ii. ; on geographical distribution, ; on wallace's "law regulating introduction of species," etc., ; on humming-birds, shells, etc., ; on wallace's "mimicry of colours," ; on diversity of human races, - ; on wallace's "malay archipelago," ; on wallace's "geographical distribution," lyell, sir leonard, i. lythrum, trimorphism of, i. , m mcandrew, mr., on littoral shells of the azores, ii. macmahon, dr. p.a., and the wallace medallion, ii. madagascar, i. (note); fauna of, , , , , ; flora of, - madeira, land shells in, i. ; birds in, "maha bharata," wallace's appreciation of, ii. malaria, wallace on, ii. malay archipelago, wallace's explorations in, i. - ; distribution of animals in, "---- ----," wallace's, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , ; translations of, i. "malayan papilionidæ," wallace's, i. , ii. , , malthus on "population," i. , , , , , , man, influence of sexual selection on, i. , , , , , ; geographical distribution of, ; zoological classification of, ; original colour of, ii. . ----, origin of, darwin's views of, i. - , (_see also_ "descent of man") ---- ---- wallace's views of, i. - , - , _et seq._, , , , , , ii. "man's place in the universe," ii. , , , _et seq._, mantegazza, colour theory of, i. marchant, james, ii. ; and the wallace memorial, ii. ; letter from bishop ryle to, "mars," wallace's, ii. , - , - "---- and its canals," lowell's, ii. , - marshall, mr. j.w., ii. , , ---- dr. w., i. martineau, james, darwin on spencer's reply to, i. "material for study of variation," bateson's, ii. - "materialism of the present day," janet's, i. , , , maternal impressions, ii. - matthew, p., anticipates theory of natural selection, i. , maw, mr., reviews "origin of species," i. melastoma, i. , meldola, prof. raphael, lecture on evolution by, i. ; death of, ii. ; criticism of romanes' theory, ; on importance of "divergence," - ; president of entomological society, ; reminiscences of wallace, ; at wallace's funeral, ; and the abbey memorial, mendelism, ii. ; dr. archdall reid's view of, ; and evolution, wallace on, menura superba, i. (note) mesmerism, wallace and, i. , ii. meyer, dr. adolf bernhard, i. , mias, i. , , , ii. mill, john stuart, invites wallace to join land tenure reform association, ii. mill's "siege of the south pole," ii. miller, mr. ben r., letter to, ii. mimetic butterflies, i. , , , , , (note), , , , , , "mimicry, and other protective resemblances," wallace's, ii. , , "---- and protective colouring," wallace's, i. , ---- bates's theory of, i. ---- darwin on, i. ----, wallace on, i. (note), - , miocene period, i. , , , "miracles and modern spiritualism," wallace's, ii. , , missionaries, wallace's and darwin's impressions of, compared, i. - ; wallace on, , , - mitten, miss, ii. ---- mr. william, ii. , mivart, st. g., controversy with mr. g. darwin, i. ; his "genesis of species," - , , - , ii. moluccas, birds of, ii. monistic theory, ii. monkeys, influence of, on distribution of pigeons and parrots, i. (note), monopoly and free trade, wallace on, ii. "more letters," i. , , (note), (note) morgan, prof. lloyd, wallace on, ii. , ---- t.h., "evolution and adaptation," ii. morley, mr. john (lord), correspondence with, ii. morton, dr., on american race problem, ii. moths, jenner weir's observations on, i. mott, mr., on haeckel, i. ; on progression of races, ii. mould, formation of, by agency of earthworms, i. mount ophir (malay), i. mouth-gesture as factor in origin of language, ii. "movements and habits of climbing plants," darwin's, i. , , ii. mailer, fritz, "für darwin," i. ; on mimetic butterflies, (note), , ---- hermann, i. (note) murchison, sir roderick, and wallace, i. ; on africa, murphy, mr. m.j., ii. murphy's "habit and intelligence," wallace's review of, i. , murray, andrew, attacks darwin's "origin of species," i. ; opposes trimen's views on mimetic butterflies, murray's "geographical distribution of mammals," i. mutation theory, ii. , "my life," wallace's, i. , (note), , , , , , - , (note), , , , , , , (note), (note), ii. , , , , , , , , , myers, f.w.h., and telepathy, ii. , ; on wallace as lecturer, ---- letter from, on vaccination pamphlet, the "malay archipelago," etc., ii. - n nägeli's essay on natural selection, i. nathusius on the aru pig, i. natural selection (_see_ selection, natural) "---- ---- action of, in producing old age, decay, and death," wallace's, ii. "---- ---- contributions to the theory of," wallace's, i. , , , ii. , "---- ---- from a mathematical point of view," bennett's, i. nebular hypothesis, spencer's, i. ; wallace on, ii. neo-lamarckians, ii. , , new zealand, aborigines of, i. ; colonisation of, ; fauna and flora of, , , , , ii. , , "newton of natural history," the, i. newton, prof. a., i. , ii. , "nicaragua," belt's, ii. non-inheritance of acquired characters, ii. - , , , , , ; prof. poulton's address on, norman, dr., and wallace, ii. norris, dr. richard, i. , ii. ---- miss, ii. "norwegian flora, immigration of," blytt's, i. o oceanic islands, colonisation of, i. , , , ; flora of, - , onomatopoeia, ii. orang-utans, i. , , , ii. "orchids," darwin's, i. , ---- wallace's admiration of, i. , ii. ; epiphytal, i. ; of the azores, "origin of species," darwin's, i. , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , ii. , , ; reviews of, i. , ---- ---- (_see_ selection) "---- ---- and genera," wallace's, i. "---- of the fittest," cope's, ii. "---- of the races of man," wallace's, ii. ornithoptera croesus, i. ---- poseidon, i. orr, henry b., ii. osborn, prof. h.f., on wallace, ii. ostriches, wallace on, i. ; darwin on, - owen, sir r., darwin's opinion of, i. ; attacks darwin's theory, , , , ---- robert, and wallace, i. , ii. , , , ---- robert dale, ii. p pacific islands, land shells in, i. pain, wallace on, ii. pangenesis, i. _et seq._, , , , ii. panmixia, ii. , papilio, polymorphic species of, i. ---- sarpedon choredon, i. "papilionidæ of the malay region," wallace's, i. , ii. , , para, wallace at, i. , ; products of, parrots, wallace's paper on, i. , ii. "passerine birds," wallace's, ii. pastrana, julia, i. patagonia, plains of, i. "permanence of oceanic basins," wallace's, ii. permian period, i. perry, john, and wallace national memorial, ii. "personal narrative," humboldt's, i. , , pheasants, argus, i. , , "phenomena of variation and geographical distribution," wallace's, i. phillips' attack on darwin's "origin of species," i. phrenology, wallace's belief in, i. , ii. "physical geography of the malay archipelago," wallace's, ii. "---- history of man," prichard's, i. , , ii. "physics of the earth's crust," fisher's, ii. physiological selection (_see_ selection, physiological) pickard-cambridge, rev. o., reminiscences of wallace, ii. pictet, prof. f.j., reviews the "origin of species," i. , pigeons, domestic, i. "---- of the malay archipelago," wallace's, i. , ii. "plants, crossing," darwin's, wallace on, i. - ---- geographical distribution of, i. ; effect of climatic conditions on, ; heterostyled, ; migration of, (note), , - , - , ii. , - ; lyell on migration of, - ; variety of form and habit in, "plants of india and indo-oceanic continent," blandford's, i. pleistocene period, i. pliocene period, i. , , ii. podmore, frank, effect on, of hodgson's psychical research report, ii. ; report by, in _proceedings_ of psychical research society, ; proposed as president, polymorphism, wallace on, i. "population, essay on," malthus's, i. , , , , , , "---- theory of," spencer's, i. poulton, prof., and weismann's "essays upon heredity," ii. - ; paper on colours of larva, pupa, etc., ; appointed hope professor of zoology in oxford university, ; exposure of an american neo-lamarckian by, ; presidential address to british association, wallace's criticism of, ; presidential address to entomological society, ; on wallace, ; at funeral of wallace, ; and the westminster abbey memorial, poverty, wallace's views on, ii. _et seq._ "power of movement in plants," darwin's, i. , ii. prain, sir d., and wallace memorial in westminster abbey, ii. "prehistoric times," lubbock's, i. , - "present evolution of man, the," archdall reid's, ii. , price, prof. b., formally offers d.c.l. degree to wallace, ii. prichard's "physical history of man," i. , , ii. primula, darwin's paper on, i. "principles of geology," lyell's, i. , ii. "---- of psychology," spencer's, i. "---- of sociology," spencer's, i. proctor, r.a., i. ; "expanse of heaven," ii. "progress and poverty," henry george's, i. , , ii, protection, principle of, i. , , , , , , , , _et seq._, _et seq._, , , , , , _et seq._, - , , , - , , , - (_see also_ coloration, protective, _and_ mimicry) "protective resemblance," wallace's, i. "---- value of colour and markings in insects," ii. protoplasm, origin of, sir w. thiselton-dyer on, ii. - "psychic philosophy," desertis's, ii. psychical research, wallace and, ii. , _et seq._, , ---- ---- society, foundation of, ii. pteropus edulis, i. purdon, dr., ii. r ramsay, andrew, darwin on, i. ---- sir wm., and wallace national memorial, ii. rathbone, reginald b., reminiscences of wallace, ii. - "rationalism," lecky's, i. - "regression to the mean," ii. reichenbach, experiments of, with sensitives, ii. , "reign of law," duke of argyll's, ii. "researches," prichard's, i. , , ii. "---- on evolution of stellar systems," ii. - "revolt of democracy," wallace's, ii. , , , rhynchæa, i. , rice, dr. hamilton, survey of uaupés river, i. ridgeway, dr., bishop of salisbury, ii. ridley, mr. h.n., ii. ripon, lord, i. rogers, h.d., darwin on, i. romanes, g.j.: theory of physiological selection, i. , ii. ; meldola's criticism of, , - ; wallace's criticism of, _et seq._; his accusation against wallace, - "root principles," child's, ii. rothschild, the hon. lionel (lord), wallace's admiration of his butterflies, ii. , royal geographical society, and exploration of uaupés river, i. ---- institute, the, wallace's lecture at, ii. , , rudimentary organs, i. russell, mr. alfred, letter to, ii. russia, czar of, manifesto of, ii. ---- wallace on, ii. rütimeyer, researches on mammals in switzerland by, i. ryle, bishop, and the medallion of wallace, ; sermon at its unveiling, - s sadong river, wallace's exploration of, i. salisbury, bishop of, at funeral of wallace, ii. ---- marquis of, view of natural selection, ii. , ; translation of his address, santiago, darwin at, i. sarawak, wallace in, i. , - , , scandinavia, distribution of plants in, i. schaffhausen, dr., almost anticipates natural selection, i. "scientific aspect of the supernatural," wallace's, ii. "---- demonstration of a future life," hudson's, ii. sclater, p.h., on wallace's "malay archipelago," i. - ; and lemuria, (note); division of earth into zoological regions, ii. ; distrust of gould, scott, dr. dukinfield h., speech at presentation of darwin-wallace medals, i. - ; at wallace's funeral, ii. ; and the wallace memorial in westminster abbey, scott's "antarctic voyage," ii. sedgwick, prof., and darwin, i. , ; attacks darwin at cambridge philosophical society, see, t.j.j., ii. - seeman, berthold, i. , , , segregation of the unfit, wallace on, ii. - , selection, domestic, i. , , , , , , , , , (note), , , , , , , , ---- natural, theory of, i. , , _et seq._, _et seq._, , , , , , ii. - , , , , , , , ; discovery of, i. , - ; anticipations of, , , ; spencer's alternative term for, , ; lord salisbury's conception of, ii. , , ; neo-lamarckians and, ---- physiological, romanes' theory of, i. , ii. , - , _et seq._, - ---- sexual, i. , , , , , - , , , , , _et seq._, - , , - , _et seq._, , , , self-fertilisation, i. , , ii. "shall we have common sense?" sleeper's, ii. , sharpe, mr. j.w., reminiscences of wallace, ii. - shells, lyell on, ii. shipley, dr. a.e., and wallace medallion in westminster abbey, ii. shrewsbury grammar school, darwin and, i. , sidgwick, prof, and mrs. h., telepathic experiments by, ii. , ; wallace's remarks on, - "siege of the south pole," mill's, ii. silk, george, i. , ; wallace's friendship with, ; walking tour in switzerland with wallace, sims, mrs. (sister of a.r. wallace), i. , , , , , , ---- thomas, i. , singapore, wallace at, i. slade, prosecution of, ii. sleeper, george w., ii. , , smedley, mr. e., ii. , , , , smith, dr. edwin, ii. "social environment and moral progress," wallace's, ii. , - , "---- statics," spencer's, i. , , ii. socialism, wallace's first lessons in, and later views of, i. , , ii. _et seq._; "individualistic," ; wallace's definition of, society for psychical research, foundation of, ii. "sociology, principles of," i. "---- study of," spencer's, i. solar nebula, lecture by sir r. ball on, ii. ---- system, central position of, ii. south america, fauna of, ii. special creation, i. (note), , , ii. , species, mutability of, i. , ; law of introduction of, , - ; extinction of, . (_see also_ selection, natural) spencer, herbert, birth of, i. ; and evolution, , ; arguments with huxley on evolution, ; sends darwin a copy of his essays, ; suggests "survival of the fittest" as alternative to "natural selection," , ; wallace's relations with, ; darwin's approval of "survival of the fittest," ; autobiography of, ii. ---- letters from: on "origin of the races of man," ii. ; on theory of flight, - ; on "darwinism," ; on lord salisbury's view of natural selection, , , ; on land nationalisation society, ; on "progress and poverty," etc., - spilosoma menthastri, i. spiritualism, wallace's belief in, ii. , , , _et seq._, - ; huxley on, ; lord avebury on, spiritualists, association of, ii. , spontaneous generation, i. spruce, mr., i. , , , stanley, dean, at linlathen, ii. stephens' "illustrations of british insects," i. (note) sterility, natural selection and, meldola on, ii. - stevens, samuel, i. , , , , , , , , stewart, prof. balfour, and telepathy, ii. strahan, dr. a., and wallace memorial, ii. strang, mr., chalk portrait of wallace by, ii. strasburger, prof. eduard, receives darwin-wallace medal, i. ; tribute to wallace, ; on wallace's "malay archipelago," ii. stuart-menteith, c.g., ii. "studies, scientific and social," wallace's, ii. , "study of variation, with regard to discontinuity in origin of species," bateson's, ii. - "subsidence and elevation of land," sir h.h. howorth's, i. ---- theory of, i. , , , , , survival of the fittest, i. , , - , ii. (_see also_ selection, natural) sus papuensis, i. , ---- scrofa, i. swinton, mr. a.c., ii. synthetic philosophy, spencer's, i. , , switzerland, wallace's visits to, i. , ii. t telepathy, ii. , _et seq._, , "tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from original type," wallace's, i. ; loss of ms., , ii. ternate, wallace at, i. , , , ; volcanic eruption of in, ; wallace's paper on natural selection sent to darwin from, i. , ii. tertiary period, i. , , , thayer's theory of animal colouring, ii. "theories of evolution," poulton's, ii. "theory of development and heredity," orr's, ii. "---- of natural selection from a mathematical point of view," bennett's, i. "---- of population," spencer's, i. thiselton-dyer, sir w.t.: appreciation of wallace by, i. ; at darwin-wallace jubilee, ; paper on geographical distribution of plants by, ii. ---- letters from: on darwin commemoration volume, ii. ; on sir f. darwin's "foundations" and the darwin celebration, ; on evolution and the fundamental powers and properties of life, - ; asking wallace to join royal society, , - ; on romanes' charge of plagiarism, - thompson, prof. silvanus p., signs petition for national memorial to wallace, ii. thomson, prof. j.a., ii. (note) ---- sir w. (lord kelvin), on age of world, i. , , , ii. thought transference (_see_ telepathy) "threading my way," r.d. owen's, ii. timor, birds of, i. , ii. ; mammalia of, i. , ii. ; fossils of, i. , , ; darwin receives honeycomb from, , ; flora of, transmutation of species, i. , ii. "travels on the amazon and rio negro," wallace's, i, , trees, tropical, i. trimen, mr., paper on mimetic butterflies by, i. , trimorphism in plants, i. , , tropical forests, darwin's description of, i. - ; denizens of, "---- nature," wallace's, ii. turner, dr., orchids of, ii. ---- mr. h.h., signs petition for national memorial of wallace, ii. tylor, e.b., "early history of mankind," i. ; wallace on, ; "anthropology," ii. tyndall, john, birth of, i. ; and psychical research, ii. u uaupés, indians of, i. ; exploration of, i. unfit, segregation of, ii. - , united states, wallace's lecturing tour in, ii. "unparalleled discoveries of mr. t.j.j. see, account of," ii. utricularia, i. - v vaccination, wallace and, ii. , , , - ; rev. h. price hughes on, ; frederic myers and, "variation, heredity, and evolution," lock's, ii. ---- of birds, i. - "variations of animals and plants under domestication," darwin's, i. , , , , , ii. variety, wallace's differentiation of, from species, i. - , , , , , (note), , , , , , ii. , , , varley, c.f., i. vegetarianism, wallace on, ii. "vestiges of the natural history of creation," i. , (note) victoria, queen, approves of pension to wallace, i. "vignettes from nature," grant allen's, ii. vogt, prof., i. volcanic eruptions and migration, lyell's theory of, ii. "voyage of the _beagle_," darwin's, i. , , , ii. "---- up the amazon," edwards's, i. w waddell's "lhasa," ii. waddington, mr. samuel, ii. wages, question of, ii. waimate (n.z.), missionary settlement at, i. wallace, alfred russel: co-discoverer of natural selection, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , ii. - ; early years, i. - ; nervousness, , , , ii. ; his father, i. ; his mother, , , ; first experiments, , - ; schooldays, ; geographical studies, ; love of reading, ; pupil teacher at hertford grammar school, ; interest in socialism, , , ii. _et seq._, ; land-surveying, i. , , , ii. , ; astronomical studies and writings, i. , ii. _et seq._; early interest in zoology and geology, i. ; first telescope, , ii. ; love of botany, i. , , ii. ; his herbarium, i. ; as watchmaker, ; interest in phrenology and mesmerism, , ii. , ; studies beetles and butterflies, i. , ; school teacher at leicester, ; voyage to amazon, _et seq._; explores uaupés river, ; fire at sea and loss of collections, , ; first meeting with darwin, , , ii. ; meets huxley, i. ; visits switzerland, , ii. ; visits singapore, i. ; on missionaries, - , , , , - ; in sarawak, - ; beetle and butterfly collecting, i. , - , , , ii. - ; ill-health of, i. , ; enthusiasm as naturalist and collector, - , ; journey in a "prau," ; early letters, etc., - ; darwin-wallace joint paper read before linnean society, , , , , ; darwin's appreciation of his magnanimity, , , , , , , , , , , , , ; attack of intermittent fever, , ; jubilee of darwin-wallace essay and his speech, _et seq_; relations with spencer, ; presidential address to entomological society, ; reads proofs of spencer's "principles of sociology," ; correspondence with darwin, - ; inscription on envelope containing darwin's first eight letters, ; sends darwin a honeycomb, ; reads spencer's works, , ; "exposé" of rev. s. haughton's "bee's cell," ; his opinion of agassiz, ; and the origin of man, , , , _et seq._, ; and darwin's paper on climbing plants, ; on a crested blackbird, ; on the _reader_, ; on mimicry, (note), , , ; approves of term "survival of the fittest," ; birth of a son, ; later views on natural selection, , ; dedicates "malayan travels" to darwin, ; birth of a daughter, ; visits wales, ; reviews "descent of man," ; on chauncey wright and mivart, - ; bethnal green museum directorship, ; and second edition of "descent of man," (note), , ; social and political views, , , , ii. - , - ; at dorking, i. , , ii. ; and the superintendency of epping forest, i. , , , , ii. ; writes a work on geography, i. , ii. ; recommended for a civil list pension, i. - ; works on biology, etc., ii. _et seq._; articles for "encyclopædia britannica," ; lectures at boston, u.s.a., ; correspondence on biology, geographical distribution, etc., - ; on theory of flight, i. , ii. - ; and mivart's "genesis of species," ; friendship with meldola, ; theory of animal heat, ; and romanes, _et seq._, _et seq._; on ferns, ; on sterility and natural selection, _et seq._; admitted to royal society, , , , ; on "discontinuous variation," - ; theory of mouth-gesture as a factor in origin of language, ; on non-heredity of acquired characters, ; his last public lecture, , - ; two of his works translated into japanese, ; home life, - ; domesticity of, ; skill at chess, ; examiner in physiography at south kensington, ; as housebuilder, , , - ; honours from scientific societies, ; enthusiasm for orchids, ; his method of writing, - , ; and psychical research, , , - , - ; daily routine, - ; sense of humour, - , , , , , , ; receives the order of merit, - ; his sarawak spider, ; failing health, _et seq._; death, , ; funeral, ; memorial in westminster abbey, - ; lists of writings, ---- ---- ---- letters to his mother: announcing arrival at singapore, i. ; describing work at singapore, ; on malacca and missionaries, ; on his collections and visit to rajah brooke, ; on the rajah, ; on correspondence from darwin and hooker, and his aru collection, ; on plans for collecting at java, and impending return to england, ---- ---- ---- letter to his wife, sending plants from furka pass, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to his son, mr. w.g. wallace: on building of house at parkstone, ii. - ; on purchase of land at broadstone and garden plans, - ; enclosing ground plan of house and describing progress, - ; on "man's place in the universe," and spiritualism, - ; requesting revision of "mars," ; on forthcoming lecture at the royal institution, and conferment of order of merit, - ; on discovery of a rare moth and beetles in root of an orchid, - ; on the railway strike, - ---- ---- ---- letters to his daughter violet: on "victims of landlordism," ii. ; on "freeland" and "looking backward," ; on orchid growing, ; on use of a wagging tail, - ; on "maha bharata," ; on eight hours' movement, ---- ---- ---- letter to lord avebury, on bill for bird preservation, i. ---- ---- ---- letters to sir w.f. barrett: on the nebular hypothesis, ii. ; on mars, ; on experiments with sensitives and on prosecution of slade, ; on dr. carpenter, ; regretting inability to attend dublin meeting of british association, ; on the advocacy of vaccination, ; on dowsing, - ; on presidency of psychical research society, ; on "creative thought" and on ministry of angels, ; explaining his criticisms of "creative thought," - ---- ---- ---- letter to f. bates, on exotic insect-collecting, i. ---- ---- ---- letters to h.w. bates: on darwin's journal, i. ; on "law regulating introduction of new species" and ternate, ; congratulating him on arriving home, ; on darwin, ---- ---- ---- letters to mr. f. birch: on "mars," ii. ; announcing conferment of order of merit, - ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. h. jamyn brooke, on monism, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to miss buckley (mrs. fisher): on "descent of man," ii. - ; on physiology of ferns, etc., - ; on infinity of life-forms, - ; on house-planning at broadstone, - ; on turks, ; on his "reciprocity" article, ; on the earth as only habitable planet, ; on spiritualism, - ; on psychical and other works, - ; on his visit to switzerland, ; on re-incarnation and theosophical writings, ; on psychical research and spencer's "autobiography," ; on conferment of order of merit, ; on his autobiography, and owen, - ; on reviews of "my life," - ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. sydney c. cockerell, on kropotkin's life, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. theo. d.a. cockerell, on fertilisation, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to charles darwin: on the timor honeycomb, i. ; on darwin's "orchids," ; on theory of flight, ; on spencer's "social statics," ; on borneo exploration and his contribution to theory of man's origin, ; on his paper on man and natural selection, ; on the aru islands, ; on a case of variation becoming hereditary, ; on the _reader_, ; on dimorphism, ; suggesting "survival of the fittest" in preference to "natural selection," ; on mimicry and glacier action, ; on expression, ; on "creation by law," , ; on superintendency of a museum, ; on sterility of hybrids, ; on natural selection as producing sterility of hybrids, and pangenesis, ; on trimen's paper at the linnean society, ; on selective sterility, , , ; on darwin's "cross unions of dimorphic plants," ; on protection and sexual selection, , , ; on the dedication of "malayan travels," etc., ; on single variations, ; on colouring of caterpillars, ; on his "unscientific" opinions on man, , , ; on wing-scales of butterflies, ; on dr. meyer, ; on "descent of man," , , ; recommending two remarkable books, ; on mivart and chauncey wright's critique, ; on darwin's answer to mivart, ; on dr. bree, and bastian's "beginnings of life," ; on a bethnal green museum appointment, ; on darwin's "expression of the emotions," ; on invitation to undertake revision work for darwin, , ; on "climbing plants," ; on darwin's criticism of "geographical distribution," , ; on darwin's "crossing plants," ; on darwin's "orchids," ; on darwin's "forms of flowers," and glacial theory, ; on sufficiency of natural selection, ; on epping forest superintendency, , ; on "island life," , ; on darwin's criticism of "island life," ; on darwin's "movements of plants," ; on land migration of plants, ; on civil list pension, , ; on "progress and poverty," ; on darwin's "earthworms," ---- ---- ---- letters to sir francis darwin: on darwin's "life and letters," ii. ; on descent with modification, ; on mutation, ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. w.j. farmer, on final cause of varying colour of hairs, etc., ii. - ---- ---- ---- letter to dr. w.b. hemsley, on insular floras, ii. - ---- ---- ---- letter to rev. j.b. henderson, on christianity, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to sir j. hooker, on natural selection, etc., ii. - ---- ---- ---- letters to huxley: enclosing a copy of "the scientific aspect of the supernatural," ii. ; on psychical research, ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. j. hyder, on land nationalisation, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to prof. knight, on immortality, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to dr. littledale, acknowledging birthday congratulations, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to sir oliver lodge: on proof of constant variability, and lord kelvin's calculations, ii. - ; on principle of continuity, etc., - ; acknowledging romanes' lecture and criticising lectures by mr. see, - ---- ---- ---- letter to sir c. lyell, on colour of man, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to mr. j.w. marshall: on hudson's observations and theories, ii. - ; conveying condolences, and views on a hereafter, ; on his autobiography, ---- ---- ---- letters to prof. meldola: on physiological selection, ii. - ; on natural selection, , - ; on meldola's controversy with romanes, - ; on individual adaptability, - ; on "discontinuous variation," - ; on weismann's "germinal selection," - ; on weismann's doctrine of non-inheritance of acquired characters, - ; on weismann's "germ plasm," ; on fisher's "physics of the earth's crust," ; on meldola's offer to read wallace's paper at royal institute, - ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. ben. r. miller, on sleeper's "shall we have common sense?" ii. - ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. john (lord) morley, on socialism, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. m.j. murphy, on mr. lloyd george, ii. - ---- ---- ---- letter to dr. norris, on increasing weakness, ii. - ---- letter to miss norris, on health and diet, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to prof. e.b. poulton: on "protective value of colour and markings in insects," ii. ; on weismann's "essays upon heredity," , ; on grant allen's theory of origin of wheat, ; on cope's "origin of the fittest," ; on weismann's additional essays, - ; on non-heredity of acquired characters, - ; on maternal impression, - ; on bateson's "material for the study of variation," - ; on poulton's "theories of evolution," - ; criticising romanes, - ; on poulton's presidential address to british association, - ; on denudation and deposition, ; on mutation, ; on poulton's presidential address to entomological society, ; on mendelism and mutation, ; on poulton's introduction to "essays on evolution," - ; on invitation to lecture at royal institution, ; on lord rothschild's butterflies, and royal institution lecture, - ; on an article in the _times_, ; on bergson, ; on sleeper's alleged anticipation of darwinism, - ; on declining the oxford d.c.l. degree, - ; agreeing to accept the degree, ---- ---- ---- letters to dr. archdall reid: on "present evolution of man," ii. - ; on instinctive knowledge, ; on "ancient britain and invasions of cæsar," ; on mendelism and evolution, - ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. clement reid, on discovery of miocene or pliocene man in india, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. h.n. ridley, on de rougemont, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. alfred russell, on vegetarianism, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to mr. g. silk: on alexandrian donkey-drivers, i. ; on forthcoming visit to sarawak, ; on marriage, ---- ---- ---- letters to mrs. sims (his sister): on his assistant, i. , ; on missionaries, ; on life in macassar, ; on java and its flora, ---- ---- ---- letters to thomas sims: on singapore, i. ; on monocular and binocular vision, darwin's "descent of species," and belief and disbelief, ---- ---- ---- letters to mr. e. smedley: on child's "root principles," ii. - , - ; on prayer, ; on mars, ; on horoscope, ---- ---- ---- letter to dr. edwin smith, on spiritualism, ii. ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. c.g. stuart-menteith, on segregation of the unfit, ii. - ---- ---- ---- letter to mr. a.c. swinton, on suggested lecture tour in australia, ii. ---- ---- ---- letters to sir w. thiselton-dyer: on botanical distribution and migration, ii. - ; on darwin commemoration volume, - ; on "world of life," - ; on election to royal society, - ; on romanes' charge against wallace of plagiarism, - ---- ---- ---- letter to samuel waddington, on origin of all living things, ii. - ---- ---- ---- letters to mr. a. wiltshire: on the liberal government, ii. ; on necessity for increased wages, ---- ---- ---- letter to an unknown correspondent, on fauna and flora of borneo district, and dyaks, i. ---- annie (a.r. wallace's wife), ii. , ---- herbert (a.r. wallace's brother), i. , ii. , ---- john (a.r. wallace's brother), i. , , ---- mary ann (a.r. wallace's mother), i. ---- thomas vere (a.r. wallace's father), i. ; librarian of hertford, ; straitened circumstances of, , ---- violet (daughter of a.r. wallace), reminiscences of her father, ii. - ---- w.g. (son of a.r. wallace), reminiscences of his father, ii. - "wallace's line," i. , ii. , , war, wallace's abhorrence of, ii. ward, mr., on muscular fibres of whales, i. warington, mr., and "origin of species," i. webb, mr. w.l., ii. - wedgwood, josiah, and darwin, i. weir, jenner, on moths, i. ; on plumage of birds, ; darwin's appreciation of, ; paper at the entomological society, weismann, prof. a., receives darwin-wallace medal, i. ; on colouring of caterpillars, ; "essays upon heredity," ii. _et seq_., - (_see also_ non-inheritance of acquired characters) wells, dr., and natural selection, i. , westminster abbey, graves and memorials of men of science in, i. ; petition to dean and chapter as to medallion to wallace in, ii. ; unveiling of the medallion, westwood and theory of flight, i. ; darwin on, - whale, muscular fibres of, i. wilberforce, bishop, reviews darwin's "origin of species," williams, dr., ii. ---- matthieu, i. wilson, mr. d.a., reminiscences of wallace, ii. - wiltshire, mr. a., letters to, ii. , wimborne, lord, sale of land to wallace, ii. wollaston, dr., reviews "origin of species," i. ; tribute to wallace, ii. wollaston's "coleoptera atlantidum," ii. - woman, independence and future of, wallace's views on, ii. - , "wonderful century," wallace's, ii. , , , "wonders of the world," i. wood, j.g., book on the horse, ii. woodbury, mr., researches of, i. "world of life," wallace's, ii. , , , , , , "worms, formation of vegetable mould by action of," darwin's, i. wright, chauncey, reviews mivart's "genesis of species," i. , - z zöllner, prof., and supernormal phenomena, ii. , "zoological geography of the malay archipelago," wallace's, i, , ii. zoology, lectures on, at edinburgh, i, ; darwin's study of, at cambridge, printed by cassell & company, limited, la belle sauvage, london, e.c. f . footnotes: [ ] "it is no doubt the chief work of my life."--c. darwin. [ ] "my life," i. - . [ ] "my life," ii. - . [ ] "my life," pp. - . [ ] "my life," pp. - . [ ] dr. henry forbes in a note to the editor writes: "in his 'island life' wallace extended his philosophical observations to a wider field, and it is in philosophical biology that wallace's name must stand pre-eminent for all time." "in our own science of biology," say profs. geddes and thomson in a recent work, "we may recall the 'grand old men,' surely second to none in history--darwin, wallace, and hooker." [ ] "my life," ii. - . [ ] "my life," ii. . [ ] "the origin of the races of man." [ ] "the malay archipelago." [ ] private secretary to sir charles lyell. [ ] "the descent of man." [ ] probably refers to "the geographical distribution of animals." [ ] the book referred to is wallace's "island life," published in . [ ] for the work on "darwinism." [ ] printed in full as a footnote to weismann's "essays upon heredity," etc. [ ] _see_ footnote , pp. - , of weismann's "essays upon heredity," etc. [ ] "the origin of floral structures through insect and other agencies." internat. sci. series. . [ ] "the origin of the fittest." london, . [ ] "essays upon heredity and kindred biological problems," vol. ii. . [ ] _trans. ent. soc., london_, , p. . [ ] as hope professor of zoology in the university of oxford. [ ] a member of a family which has produced several eminent medical men. [ ] vol. i., p. , a review of "a theory of development and heredity," by henry b. orr. . [ ] "material for the study of variation, treated with especial regard to discontinuity in the origin of species." . [ ] reprinted in "essays on evolution," p. . . [ ] "the present evolution of man." . [ ] presidential address in section d of british association, , reprinted in "essays on evolution," p. . [ ] to the british association at edinburgh, . [ ] vol. ixx. ( ), p. , a review of t.h. morgan's "evolution and adaptation." [ ] "the bearing of the study of insects upon the question, are acquired characters hereditary?" the presidential address to the entomological society of london, , reprinted in "essays on evolution," p. . [ ] probably "root principles," by child. [ ] "essays on evolution." . [ ] of the introduction to "essays on evolution." [ ] vol. lxxvii., p. , a note "on the interpretation of mendelian phenomena." [ ] the oxford celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the birth of charles darwin, february , . an account of the celebration is given in "darwin and 'the origin,'" by e.b. poulton, p. . . [ ] the darwin celebration. [ ] "the world of life." [ ] _bedrock_, april, , p. . [ ] "shall we have common sense? some reeeat lectures." by george w. sleeper. boston, . [ ] _see_ footnote to preceding letter. the book formed the subject of prof. poulton's presidential addresses (may , , and may , ) to the linnean society (_proceedings_, - , p. , and - , p. ). the above letter is in part quoted in the former address. [ ] this letter relates to evidences, favourable to sleeper, which had not at the time been critically examined, but broke down when carefully scrutinised. _see_ prof. poulton's address to the linnean society, may , (_proc_., - , p. ). [ ] for many years he was examiner in physiography at south kensington. [ ] _see_ footnote on p. . [ ] for letters from wallace describing col. legge's visit with the order, _see_ pp. and . [ ] the present lord rothschild. [ ] on his ninetieth birthday. [ ] see his book, "land nationalisation, its necessity and its aims" ( ). [ ] although this book was his last published work, it was written before "social environment and moral progress." he handed me the ms. a few months before his death.--the editor. [ ] a full account of this scheme is given in his "studies, scientific and social," chap. xxvi. [ ] "my life," ii. - [ ] advocating eugenics and the segregation of the unfit. [ ] hon. sec. of the federated trades and labour council, bournemouth. [ ] at an old age pension meeting. [ ] _see_ vol. i., p. . [ ] "the world of life," p. . [ ] "life and letters," i. . [ ] considerable reference is made to mrs. hardinge in "miracles and modern spiritualism" pp. - . [ ] the "spirits" are supposed to produce the faces. [ ] this is a strange accompaniment of most advanced spiritual phenomena. [ ] against vaccination. [ ] psychical research society report. [ ] "the wonderful century." [ ] a medium. [ ] the lecture at the royal institution, when he wore the order. [ ] in _nature_, nov. , , p. . [ ] "the wonderful century," p. . [ ] "i have been speculating last night," wrote c. darwin to his son horace, "what makes a man a discoverer of undiscovered things; and a most perplexing problem it is. many men who are very clever--much cleverer than the discoverers--never originate anything. as far as i can conjecture, the art consists in habitually searching for the causes and meaning of everything which occurs."--"emma darwin," p. . [ ] it is interesting to compare this with darwin's manner of writing. darwin confessed: "there seems to be a sort of fatality in my mind leading me to put at first my statement or proposition in a wrong or awkward form. formerly i used to think about my sentences before writing them down; but for several years i have found that it saves time to scribble in a vile hand whole pages as quickly as i possibly can, contracting half the words; and then correct deliberately. sentences thus scribbled down are often better ones than i could have written deliberately." [ ] see pp. , . [ ] but see _ante_, p. . [ ] wallace's section of the darwin-wallace essay entitled "on the tendency of species to form varieties; and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection." nat the naturalist; or, a boy's adventures in the eastern seas by george manville fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ nat's mother and father have died, and he is being brought up by an aunt and uncle, the latter being his mother's brother. his aunt does not care at all for boys, and in particular makes sniping remarks at nat the whole time. but nat's uncle is very fond of him, and they are great friends. but enter the aunt's brother, a famous naturalist, back from some trip in south america. nat, who has already shown great interest in collecting specimens from nature, is enthralled, helps him to stuff and catalogue his specimens, and eventually persuades him to take him (nat) with him on his next trip. this requires a little training in shooting and sailing. then they are off, on a p&o liner sailing from marseilles. on arriving in the java seas they disembark, purchase a little boat, and set off. very soon they are joined by an enthusiastic native, and the trio spend some years collecting numerous splendid specimens, of birds, beetles, and anything else they can. an unfriendly tribe of natives steal their boat, but does not find their hut and specimens. they set-to to build a boat of some sort, to get themselves away from such an unfriendly place. at the same time their native assistant disappears, presumably murdered by the unfriendly locals. what happens next i will not spoil the story by telling. you'll enjoy it. ________________________________________________________________________ nat the naturalist; or, a boy's adventures in the eastern seas, by george manville fenn. chapter one. why i went to my uncle's. "i don't know what to do with him. i never saw such a boy--a miserable little coward, always in mischief and doing things he ought not to do, and running about the place with his whims and fads. i wish you'd send him right away, i do." my aunt went out of the room, and i can't say she banged the door, but she shut it very hard, leaving me and my uncle face to face staring one at the other. my uncle did not speak for some minutes, but sat poking at his hair with the waxy end of his pipe, for he was a man who smoked a great deal after dinner; the mornings he spent in his garden, being out there as early as five o'clock in the summer and paying very little attention to the rain. he was a very amiable, mild-tempered man, who had never had any children, in fact he did not marry till quite late in life; when i remember my poor father saying that it was my aunt married my uncle, for uncle would never have had the courage to ask her. i say "my poor father", for a couple of years after that marriage, the news came home that he had been lost at sea with the whole of the crew of the great vessel of which he was the surgeon. i remember it all so well; the terrible blank and trouble that seemed to have come upon our house, with my mother's illness that followed, and that dreadful day when uncle joseph came down-stairs to me in the dining-room, and seating himself by the fire filled and lit his pipe, took two or three puffs, and then threw the pipe under the grate, let his head go down upon his hands, and cried like a child. a minute or two later, when i went up to him in great trouble and laid my hand upon his shoulder, saying, "don't cry, uncle; she'll be better soon," he caught me in his arms and held me to his breast. "nat, my boy," he said, "i've promised her that i'll be like a father to you now, and i will." i knew only too soon why he said those words, for a week later i was an orphan boy indeed; and i was at uncle joseph's house, feeling very miserable and unhappy in spite of his kind ways and the pains he took to make me comfortable. i was not so wretched when i was alone with uncle in the garden, where he would talk to me about his peas and potatoes and the fruit-trees, show me how to find the snails and slugs, and encourage me to shoot at the thieving birds with a crossbow and arrow; but i was miserable indeed when i went in, for my aunt was a very sharp, acid sort of woman, who seemed to have but one idea, and that was to keep the house so terribly tidy that it was always uncomfortable to the people who were in it. it used to be, "nat, have you wiped your shoes?" "let me look, sir. ah! i thought so. not half wiped. go and take them off directly, and put on your slippers. you're as bad as your uncle, sir." i used to think i should like to be as good. "i declare," said my aunt, "i haven't a bit of peace of my life with the dirt and dust. the water-cart never comes round here as it does in the other roads, and the house gets filthy. moil and toil, moil and toil, from morning to night, and no thanks whatever." when my aunt talked like this she used to screw up her face and seem as if she were going to cry, and she spoke in a whining, unpleasant tone of voice; but i never remember seeing her cry, and i used to wonder why she would trouble herself about dusting with a cloth and feather brush from morning to night, when there were three servants to do all the work. i have heard the cook tell jane the housemaid that mrs pilgarlic was never satisfied; but it was some time before i knew whom she meant; and to this day i don't know why she gave my aunt such a name. whenever aunt used to be more than usually fretful, as time went on my uncle would get up softly, give me a peculiar look, and go out into the garden, where, if i could, i followed, and we used to talk, and weed, and train the flowers; but very often my aunt would pounce upon me and order me to sit still and keep out of mischief if i could. i was very glad when my uncle decided to send me to school, and i used to go to one in our neighbourhood, so that i was a good deal away from home, as uncle said i was to call his house now; and school and the garden were the places where i was happiest in those days. "yes, my boy," said my uncle, "i should like you to call this home, for though your aunt pretends she doesn't like it, she does, you know, nat; and you mustn't mind her being a bit cross, nat. it isn't temper, you know, it's weakness. it's her digestion's bad, and she's a sufferer, that's what she is. she's wonderfully fond of you, nat." i remember thinking that she did not show it. "and you must try and get on, nat, and get lots of learning," he would often say when we were out in the garden. "you won't be poor when you grow up, for your poor mother has left you a nice bit of money, but you might lose that, nat, my boy; nobody could steal your knowledge, and-- ah, you rascal, got you, have i?" this last was to a great snail which he raked out from among some tender plants that had been half eaten away. "yes, nat, get all the knowledge you can and work hard at your books." but somehow i didn't get on well with the other boys, for i cared so little for their rough games. i was strong enough of my age, but i preferred getting out on to clapham common on half-holidays, to look for lizards in the furze, or to catch the bright-coloured sticklebacks in the ponds, or else to lie down on the bank under one of the trees, and watch the efts coming up to the top to make a little bubble and then go down again, waving their bodies of purple and orange and the gay crests that they sometimes had all along their backs in the spring. when i used to lie there thinking, i did not seem to be on clapham common, but far away on the banks of some huge lake in a foreign land with the efts and lizards, crocodiles; and the big worms that i sometimes found away from their holes in wet weather became serpents in a moist jungle. of course i got all these ideas from books, and great trouble i found myself in one day for playing at tiger-hunting in the garden at home with buzzy, my aunt's great tabby tom-cat; and for pretending that nap was a lion in the african desert. but i'll tell you that in a chapter to itself, for these matters had a good deal to do with the alteration in my mode of life. chapter two. first thoughts of hunting. as i told you, my uncle had no children, and the great house at streatham was always very quiet. in fact one of my aunt's strict injunctions was that she should not be disturbed by any noise of mine. but aunt had her pets--buzzy, and nap. buzzy was the largest striped tom-cat, i think, that i ever saw, and very much to my aunt's annoyance he became very fond of me, so much so that if he saw me going out in the garden he would leap off my aunt's lap, where she was very fond of nursing him, stroking his back, beginning with his head and ending by drawing his tail right through her hand; all of which buzzy did not like, but he would lie there and swear, trying every now and then to get free, but only to be held down and softly whipped into submission. buzzy decidedly objected to being nursed, and as soon as he could get free he would rush after me down the garden, where he would go bounding along, arching his back, and setting up the fur upon his tail. every now and then he would hide in some clump, and from thence charge out at me, and if i ran after him, away he would rush up a tree trunk, and then crouch on a branch with glowing eyes, tearing the while with his claws at the bark as if in a tremendous state of excitement, ready to bound down again, and race about till he was tired, after which i had only to stoop down and say, "come on," when he would leap on to my back and perch himself upon my shoulder, purring softly as i carried him round the grounds. i used to have some good fun, too, with nap, when my aunt was out; but she was so jealous of her favourite's liking for me that at last i never used to have a game with nap when she was at home. buzzy could come out and play quietly, but nap always got to be so excited, lolling out his tongue and yelping and barking with delight as he tore round after me, pretending to bite and worry me, and rolling over and over, and tumbling head over heels as he capered and bounded about. i think nap was the ugliest dog i ever saw, for he was one of those dirty white french poodles, and my aunt used to have him clipped, to look like a lion, as she said, and have him washed with hot soap and water every week. nothing pleased nap better than to go out in the garden with me, but i got into sad trouble about it more than once. "look at him, joseph," my aunt would say, "it's just as if it was done on purpose to annoy me. beautifully washed as he was yesterday, and now look at him with his curly mane all over earth, and with bits of straw and dead leaves sticking in it. if you don't send that boy away to a boarding-school i won't stay in the house." then my uncle would look troubled, and take me into his own room, where he kept his books and garden seeds. "you mustn't do it, nat, my boy, indeed you mustn't. you see how it annoys your aunt." "i didn't think i was doing any harm, uncle," i protested. "nap jumped out of the window, and leaped up at me as if he wanted a game, and i only raced round the garden with him." "you didn't rub the earth and dead leaves in his coat then, nat?" said my uncle. "oh no!" i said; "he throws himself on his side and pushes himself along, rubs his head on the ground, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other. i think it's because he has got f--" "shush! hush! my dear boy," cried my uncle, clapping his hand over my lips. "if your aunt for a moment thought that there were any insects in that dog, she would be ill." "but i'm sure that there are some in his coat, uncle," i said, "for if you watch him when he's lying on the hearth-rug to-night, every now and then he jumps up and snaps at them, and bites the place." "shush! yes, my boy," he whispered; "but don't talk about it. your aunt is so particular. it's a secret between us." i couldn't help smiling at him, and after a moment or two he smiled at me, and then patted me on the shoulder. "don't do anything to annoy your aunt, my boy," he said; "i wouldn't play with nap if i were you." "i'll try not to, uncle," i said; "but he will come and coax me to play with him sometimes." "h'm! yes," said my uncle thoughtfully, "and it does do him good, poor dog. he eats too much, and gets too fat for want of exercise. suppose you only play with him when your aunt goes out for a walk." "very well, uncle," i said, and then he shook hands with me, and gave me half a crown. i couldn't help it, i was obliged to spend that half-crown in something i had been wanting for weeks. it was a large crossbow that hung up in the toy-shop window in streatham, and that bow had attracted my attention every time i went out. to some boys a crossbow would be only a crossbow, but to me it meant travels in imagination all over the world. i saw myself shooting apples off boys' heads, transfixing eagles in their flight, slaying wild beasts, and bringing home endless trophies of the chase, so at the first opportunity i was off to the shop, and with my face glowing with excitement and delight i bought and took home the crossbow. "hallo, nat!" said uncle joseph. "why, what's that--a crossbow?" "yes, uncle; isn't it a beauty?" i cried excitedly. "well, yes, my boy," he said; "but, but--how about your aunt? suppose you were to break a window with that, eh? what should we do?" "but i won't shoot in that direction, uncle," i promised. "or shoot out jane's or cook's eye? it would be very dreadful, my boy." "oh, yes, uncle," i cried; "but i will be so careful, and perhaps i may shoot some of the birds that steal the cherries." "ah! yes, my boy, so you might," he said rubbing his hands softly. "my best bigarreaus. those birds are a terrible nuisance, nat, that they are. you'll be careful, though?" "yes, i'll be careful, uncle," i said; and he went away nodding and smiling, while i went off to clapham common to try the bow and the short thick arrows supplied therewith. it was glorious. at every twang away flew the arrow or the piece of tobacco-pipe i used instead; and at last, after losing one shaft in the short turf, i found myself beside the big pond over on the far side, one that had the reputation of being full of great carp and eels. my idea here was to shoot the fish, but as there were none visible to shoot i had to be content with trying to hit the gliding spiders on the surface with pieces of tobacco-pipe as long as they lasted, for i dared not waste another arrow, and then with my mind full of adventures in foreign countries i walked home. the next afternoon my aunt went out, and i took the bow down the garden, leaving my uncle enjoying his pipe. i had been very busy all that morning, it being holiday time, in making some fresh arrows for a purpose i had in view, and, so as to be humane, i had made the heads by cutting off the tops of some old kid gloves, ramming their finger-ends full of cotton-wool, and then tying them to the thin deal arrows, so that each bolt had a head like a little soft leather ball. "those can't hurt him," i said to myself; and taking a dozen of these bolts in my belt i went down the garden, with buzzy at my heels, for a good tiger-hunt. for the next half-hour streatham was nowhere, and that old-fashioned garden with its fruit-trees had become changed into a wild jungle, through which a gigantic tiger kept charging, whose doom i had fixed. shot after shot i had at the monster--once after it had bounded into the fork of a tree, another time as it was stealing through the waving reeds, represented by the asparagus bed. later on, after much creeping and stalking, with the tiger stalking me as well as springing out at me again and again, but never getting quite home, i had a shot as it was lurking beside the great lake, represented by our tank. here its striped sides were plainly visible, and, going down on hands and knees, i crept along between two rows of terrible thorny trees that bore sweet juicy berries in the season, but which were of the wildest nature now, till i could get a good aim at the monster's shoulder, and see its soft lithe tail twining and writhing like a snake. i crept on, full of excitement, for a leafy plant that i refused to own as a cabbage no longer intercepted my view. then lying flat upon my chest i fitted an arrow to my bow, and was cautiously taking aim, telling myself that if i missed i should be seized by the monster, when some slight sound i made caused it to spring up, presenting its striped flank for a target as it gazed here and there. play as it was, it was all intensely real to me; and in those moments i was as full of excitement as if i had been in some distant land and in peril of my life. then, after long and careful aim, twang went the bow, and to my intense delight the soft-headed arrow struck the monster full in the flank, making it bound up a couple of feet and then pounce upon the bolt, and canter off at full speed towards a dense thicket of scarlet-runners. "victory, victory!" i cried excitedly; "wounded, wounded!" and i set off in chase, but approaching cautiously and preparing my bow again, for i had read that the tiger was most dangerous when in the throes of death. i forget what i called the scarlet-runner thicket, but by some eastern name, and drawing nearer i found an opportunity for another shot, which missed. away bounded buzzy, evidently enjoying the fun, and i after him, to find him at bay beneath a currant bush. i was a dozen yards away in the central path, and, of course, in full view of the upper windows of the house; but if i had noted that fact then, i was so far gone in the romance of the situation that i daresay i should have called the house the rajah's palace. as it was i had forgotten its very existence in the excitement of the chase. "this time, monster, thou shalt die," i cried, as i once more fired, making buzzy leap into the path, and then out of sight amongst the cabbages. "hurray! hurray!" i shouted, waving my crossbow above my head, "the monster is slain! the monster is slain!" there was a piercing shriek behind me, and i turned, bow in hand, to find myself face to face with my aunt. chapter three. how i hunted the lion in no-man's-land and what followed. my aunt's cry brought out uncle joseph in a terrible state of excitement, and it was not until after a long chase and buzzy was caught that she could be made to believe that he had not received a mortal wound. and a tremendous chase it was, for the more uncle joseph and i tried to circumvent that cat, the more he threw himself into the fun of the hunt and dodged us, running up trees like a squirrel, leaping down with his tail swollen to four times its usual size, and going over the beds in graceful bounds, till uncle joseph sat down to pant and wipe his face while i continued the chase; but all in vain. sometimes i nearly caught the cat, but he would be off again just as i made a spring to seize him, while all aunt sophia's tender appeals to "poor buzzy then," "my poor pet then," fell upon ears that refused to hear her. "oh how stupid i am!" i said to myself. "oh, buzzy, this is too bad to give me such a chase. come here, sir, directly;" and i stooped down. it had the required result, for buzzy leaped down off the wall up which he had scrambled, jumped on to my back, settled himself comfortably with his fore-paws on my shoulder, and began to purr with satisfaction. "i am glad, my boy," said uncle joseph, "so glad you have caught him; but have you hurt him much?" "he isn't hurt at all, uncle," i said. "it was all in play." "but your aunt is in agony, my boy. here, let me take the cat to her." he stretched out his hands to take the cat from my shoulder, but buzzy's eyes dilated and he began to swear, making my uncle start back, for he dreaded a scratch from anything but a rose thorn, and those he did not mind. "would you mind taking him to your aunt, natty, my boy?" he said. "no, uncle, if you'll please come too," i said. "don't let aunt scold me, uncle; i'm very sorry, and it was only play." "i'll come with you, nat," he said, shaking his head; "but i ought not to have let you have that bow, and i'm afraid she will want it burnt." "will she be very cross?" i said. "i'm afraid so, my boy." and she really was. "oh you wicked, wicked boy," she cried as i came up; "what were you doing?" "only playing at tiger-hunting, aunt," i said. "with my poor darling buzzy! come to its own mistress then, buzzy," she cried pityingly. "did the wicked, cruel boy--oh dear!" _wur-r-ur! spit, spit_! that was buzzy's reply to his mistress's attempt to take him from my shoulder, and he made an attempt to scratch. "and he used to be as gentle as a lamb," cried my aunt. "you wicked, wicked boy, you must have hurt my darling terribly to make him so angry with his mistress whom he loves." i protested that i had not, but it was of no use, and i was in great disgrace for some days; but aunt sophia forgot to confiscate my crossbow. the scolding i received ought to have had more effect upon me, but it did not; for it was only a week afterwards that i was again in disgrace, and for the same fault, only with this difference, that in my fancy the garden had become a south african desert, and nap was the lion i was engaged in hunting. i did him no harm, i am sure, but a great deal of good, with the exercise; and the way in which he entered into the sport delighted me. he charged me and dashed after me when i fled; when i hid behind trees to shoot at him he seized the arrows, if they hit him, and worried them fiercely; while whenever they missed him, in place of dashing at me he would run after the arrows and bring them in his mouth to where he thought i was hiding. i don't think nap had any more sense than dogs have in general, but he would often escape from my aunt when i came home from school, and run before me to the big cupboard where i kept my treasures, raise himself upon his hind-legs, and tear at the door till i opened it and took out the crossbow, when he would frisk round and round in the highest state of delight, running out into the garden, dashing back, running out again, and entering into the spirit of the game with as much pleasure as i did. but the fun to be got out of a crossbow gets wearisome after a time, especially when you find that in spite of a great deal of practice it is very hard to hit anything that is at all small. the time glided on, and i was very happy still with my uncle; but somehow aunt sophia seemed to take quite a dislike to me; and no matter how i tried to do what was right, and to follow out my uncle's wishes, i was always in trouble about something or another. one summer uncle joseph bought me a book on butterflies, with coloured plates, which so interested me that i began collecting the very next day, and captured a large cabbage butterfly. no great rarity this, but it was a beginning; and after pinning it out as well as i could i began to think of a cabinet, collecting-boxes, a net, and a packet of entomological pins. i only had to tell uncle joseph my wants and he was eager to help me. "collecting-boxes, nat?" he said, rubbing his hands softly; "why, i used to use pill-boxes when i was a boy: there are lots up-stairs." he hunted me out over a dozen that afternoon, and supplied me with an old drawer and a piece of camphor, entering into the matter with as much zest as i did myself. then he obtained an old green gauze veil from my aunt, and set to work with me in the tool-house to make a net, after the completion of which necessity he proposed that we should go the very next afternoon as far as clapham common to capture insects. he did not go with me, for my aunt wanted him to hold skeins of wool for her to wind, but he made up to me for the disappointment that evening by sitting by me while i pinned out my few but far from rare captures, taking great pleasure in holding the pins for me, and praising what he called my cleverness in cutting out pieces of card. i did not know anything till it came quite as a surprise, and it was smuggled into the house so that my aunt did not know, jane, according to uncle's orders, carrying it up to my bedroom. it was a large butterfly-case, made to open out in two halves like a backgammon board; and in this, as soon as they were dry, i used to pin my specimens, examining them with delight, and never seeming to weary of noting the various markings, finding out their names, and numbering them, and keeping their proper titles in a book i had for the purpose. i did not confine myself to butterflies, but caught moths and beetles, with dragon-flies from the edges of the ponds on clapham common, longing to go farther afield, but not often obtaining a chance. then, as i began to find specimens scarce, i set to collecting other things that seemed interesting, and at last, during a visit paid by my aunt to some friends, uncle joseph took me to the british museum to see the butterflies there, so, he said, that i might pick up a few hints for managing my own collection. that visit turned me into an enthusiast, for before we returned i had been for hours feasting my eyes upon the stuffed birds and noting the wondrous colours on their scale-like feathers. i could think of scarcely anything else, talk of nothing else afterwards for days; and nothing would do but i must begin to collect birds and prepare and stuff them for myself. "you wouldn't mind, would you, uncle?" i said. "mind? no, my boy," he said, rubbing his hands softly; "i should like it; but do you think you could stuff a bird?" "not at first," i said thoughtfully; "but i should try." "to be sure, nat," he cried smiling; "nothing like trying, my boy; but how would you begin?" this set me thinking. "i don't know, uncle," i said at last, "but it looks very easy." "ha! ha! ha! nat; so do lots of things," he cried, laughing; "but sometimes they turn out very hard." "i know," i said suddenly. "i know," i said, "i could find out how to do it." "have some lessons, eh?" he said. "no, uncle." "how would you manage it then, nat?" "buy a stuffed bird, uncle, and pull it to pieces, and see how it is done." "to be sure, nat," he cried; "to be sure, my boy. that's the way; but stop a moment; how would you put it together again?" "oh! i think i could, uncle," i said; "i'm nearly sure i could. how could i get one to try with?" "why, we might buy one somewhere," he said thoughtfully; "for i don't think they'd lend us one at the british museum; but i tell you what, nat," he cried: "i've got it." "have you, uncle?" "to be sure, my boy. there's your aunt's old parrot that died and was stuffed. don't you know?" i shook my head. "it was put somewhere up-stairs in the lumber-room, and your aunt has forgotten all about it. you might try with that." "and i'd stuff it again when i had found out all about it, uncle," i said. "to be sure, my boy," said uncle, thoughtfully; "i wonder whether your aunt would want buzzy and nap stuffed if they were to die?" "she'd be sure to; aunt is so fond of them," i said. "why, uncle, i might be able to do it myself." "think so?" he said thoughtfully. "why, it would make her pleased, my boy." but neither buzzy nor nap showed the slightest intention of dying so as to be stuffed, and i had to learn the art before i could attempt anything of the kind. chapter four. the remains of poor polly. the very first opportunity, my uncle took me up with him to the lumber-room, an attic of which my aunt kept the key; and here, after quite a hunt amongst old portmanteaux, broken chairs, dusty tables, bird-cages, wrecked kennels, cornice-poles, black-looking pictures, and dozens of other odds and ends, we came in a dark corner upon the remains of one of my aunt's earliest pets. it was the stuffed figure of a grey parrot that had once stood beneath a glass shade, but the shade was broken, and poor polly, who looked as if she had been moulting ever since she had been fixed upon her present perch, had her head partly torn from her shoulders. "here she is," said my uncle. "poor old polly! what a bird she was to screech! she never liked me, nat, but used to call me _wretch_, as plain as you could say it yourself. it was very wicked of me, i dare say, nat, but i was so glad when she died, and your aunt was so sorry that she cried off and on for a week." "but she never was a pretty bird, uncle," i said, holding the stuffed creature to the light. "no, my boy, never, and she used to pull off her feathers when she was in a passion, and call people _wretch_. she bit your aunt's nose once. but do you think it will do?" "oh yes, uncle," i said; "but may i pull it to pieces?" "well, yes, my boy, i think so," he said dreamily. "you couldn't spoil it, could you?" "why, it is spoiled already, uncle joe," i said. "yes, my boy, so it is; quite spoiled. i think i'll risk it, nat." "but if aunt would be very cross, uncle, hadn't i better leave it?" i said. "if you didn't take it, nat, she would never see it again, and it would lie here and moulder away. i think you had better take it, my boy." i was so eager to begin that i hesitated no more, but took the bird out into the tool-house, where i could make what aunt called "a mess" without being scolded, and uncle put on his smoking-cap, lit his pipe, and brought a high stool to sit upon and watch me make my first attempt at mastering a mystery. the first thing was to take polly off her perch, which was a piece of twig covered with moss, that had once been glued on, but now came away in my hands, and i found that the bird had been kept upright by means of wires that ran down her legs and were wound about the twig. uncle smoked away as solemnly as could be, while i went on, and he seemed to be admiring my earnestness. "there's wire up the legs, uncle," i cried, as i felt about the bird. "oh! is there?" he said, condescendingly. "yes, uncle, and two more pieces in the wings." "you don't say so, nat!" "yes, uncle, and another bit runs right through the body from the head to the tail; and--yes--no--yes--no--ah, i've found out how it is that the tail is spread." "have you, nat?" he cried, letting his pipe out, he was so full of interest. "yes, uncle; there's a thin wire threaded through all the tail feathers, just as if they were beads." "why, what a boy you are!" he cried, wonderingly. "oh, it's easy enough to find that out, uncle," i said, colouring. "now let's see what's inside." "think there's anything inside, natty, my boy?" "oh yes, uncle," i said; "it's full of something. why, it's tow." "toe, my boy!" he said seriously, "parrot's toe?" "t-o-w. tow, uncle, what they use to clean the lamps. i can stuff a bird, uncle, i know." "think you can, natty?" "yes, to be sure," i said confidently. "why, look here, it's easy to make a ball of tow the same shape as an egg for the body, and then to push wires through the body, and wings, and legs; no, stop a moment, they seem to be fastened in. yes, so they are, but i know i can do it." uncle joe held his pipe in his mouth with his teeth and rubbed his hands with satisfaction, for he was as pleased with my imagined success as i was, and as he looked on i pulled out the stuffing from the skin, placing the wings here, the legs there, and the tail before me, while the head with its white-irised glass eye was stuck upon a nail in the wall just over the bench. "i feel as sure as can be, uncle, that i could stuff one." "ha! ha! ha!" he laughed. "_wretch! wretch! wretch_! that's what polly would say if she could speak. see how you've pulled her to pieces." i looked up as he spoke, and there was the head with its queer glass eyes seeming to stare hard at me, and at the mess of skin and feathers on the bench. "well, i have pulled her to pieces, haven't i, uncle?" i said. "that you have, my boy," he said, chuckling, as if he thought it very good fun. "but i have learned how to stuff a bird, uncle," i said triumphantly. "and are you going to stuff polly again?" he asked, gazing at the ragged feathers and skin. i looked at him quite guiltily. "i--i don't think i could put this one together again, uncle," i said. "you see it was so ragged and torn before i touched it, and the feathers are coming out all over the place. but i could do a fresh one. you see there's nothing here but the skin. all the feathers are falling away." "yes," said my uncle, "and i know--" "know what, uncle?" "why, they do the skin over with some stuff to preserve it, and you'll have to get it at the chemist's." "yes, uncle." "and i don't know, natty," he said, "but i think you might try and put poor old polly together again, for i don't feel quite comfortable about her; you have made her in such a dreadful mess." "yes, i have, indeed, uncle," i said dolefully, for the eagerness was beginning to evaporate. "and your aunt was very fond of her, my boy, and she wouldn't like it if she knew." "but i'm afraid i couldn't put her together again now, uncle;" and then i began to tremble, and my uncle leaped off his stool, and broke his pipe: for there was my aunt's well-known step on the gravel, and directly after we heard her cry: "joseph! nathaniel! what are you both doing?" and i knew that i should have to confess. chapter five. how my uncle and i put humpty dumpty together again. my uncle stood by me very bravely when aunt sophia entered the tool-house with an exclamation of surprise. for a few minutes she could not understand what we had been about. "feathers--a bird--a parrot!" she exclaimed at last. "why, it is like poor polly." i looked very guiltily at my uncle and was about to speak, but he made me a signal to be silent. "yes, my dear," he faltered, "it--it was poor polly. we--we found her in the lumber-room--all in ruins, my dear, and we--we have been examining her." "i don't believe it," said my aunt sharply. "that mischievous boy has been at his tricks again." "i assure you, my dear," cried my uncle, "i had to do with it as well. i helped him. nat wants to understand bird-stuffing, and we have been to the museum and then we came home." "well, of course you did," said my aunt tartly; "do you suppose i thought you stopped to live in the museum?" "no, my dear, of course not," said my uncle, laughing feebly. "we are studying the art of taxidermy, my dear, nat and i." he added this quite importantly, putting his eyeglasses on and nodding to me for my approval and support. "bless the man! taxi what?" cried my aunt, who seemed to be fascinated by polly's eyes; and she began to softly scratch the feathers on the back of the head. "taxi-dermy," said my uncle, "and--and, my dear, i wouldn't scratch polly's head if i were you; the skins are preserved with poison." "bless my heart!" exclaimed my aunt, snatching back her hand; and then holding out a finger to me: "wipe that, nat." i took out my handkerchief, dipped a corner in the watering-pot, and carefully wiped the finger clear of anything that might be sticking to it, though, as my own hands were so lately in contact with polly's skin, i don't believe that i did much good; but it satisfied my aunt, who turned once more to uncle joe. "now then, joseph; what did you say?" "taxi-dermy, my dear," he said again importantly; "the art of preserving and mounting the skins of dead animals." "and a nice mess you'll both make, i dare say," cried my aunt. "but not indoors, my dear. we shall be very careful. you see polly had been a good deal knocked about. your large black box had fallen right upon her, and her head was off, my dear. the glass shade was in shivers." "poor polly, yes," said my aunt, "i had her put there because of the moths in her feathers. well, mind this, i shall expect natty to repair her very nicely; and you must buy a new glass shade, joseph. ah, my precious!" this was to nap, who, in reply to her tender speech, made three or four bounds to get to me, but aunt caught him by the ear and held him with the skin of his face pulled sidewise, so that he seemed to be winking at me as he lolled out his thin red tongue, and uttered a low whine. "but mind this, i will not have any mess made indoors." as she spoke my aunt stooped down and took nap in her arms, soiling her handsome silk dress a good deal with the dog's dirty feet. then she walked away saying endearing things to nap, who only whined and struggled to get away in the most ungrateful fashion; while my uncle took off his glasses, drew a long breath, and said as he wiped his face with his red silk handkerchief: "i was afraid she was going to be very cross, my boy. she's such a good woman, your dear aunt, my boy, and i'm very proud of her; but she does upset me so when she is cross." "i was all of a fidge, uncle," i said laughing. "so was i, nat, so was i. but don't laugh, my boy. it is too serious a thing for smiles. it always puts me in such a dreadful perspiration, nat, for i don't like to be angry too. never be angry with a woman when you grow up, nat, my boy; women, you see, belong to the weaker sex." "yes, uncle," i said wonderingly; and then he began to beam and smile again, and rubbed his hands together softly as he looked at our work. "but you will have to put polly together again, nat," he said at last. "put her together again, uncle!" i said in dismay. "why, it's like humpty dumpty sat on a wall--all the king's horses and all the king's men--" "couldn't put humpty dumpty together again," said my uncle quite seriously. "but we must put polly together again, natty. there's your aunt, you know." "yes, uncle, there's aunt sophia," i said ruefully; "but the feathers are all out of the skin, and the skin's all in pieces. i'm afraid she will never look decent, try how i may." my uncle rubbed his head softly. "it does look as if it would be a terrible job, nat," he said; "but it must be done, and i'm afraid if you made her look as well as she did when we found her, your aunt wouldn't be satisfied." "i'm sure i couldn't make her look as well as she did then, uncle," i replied despairingly; "but i'll try." "yes, do, my boy. that's right, try. and look here, nat--i'll help you." i was very glad to hear uncle joseph say that, though i did not think he would be able to help me much; and so as to lose no time we began at once to think the matter out, and uncle said _yes_ to all i proposed to do, which was his idea of helping me; for he said i drove in the nails and he clinched them. after a bit of thinking i came to the conclusion that i have since learned was the very best one i could have arrived at, that the proper thing to do was to fix on polly's wire legs as neatly made a body as i could, and then to stick the feathers all over it in their proper places. but then what was the body to be made of? clay or putty could be easily moulded into shape, but they would be too heavy. papier-mache would have been the thing, but i did not know how to make it, so at last i decided to cut out a body from a piece of wood. "the very thing, nat," said my uncle. "stop a minute, my boy, till i've lit my pipe, and then we'll begin." i waited till my uncle said he was ready, and then we did begin, that is to say, he went on smoking while i sawed off a piece of wood that i thought would do. i need not tell you all about that task; how laboriously i carved away day after day at that piece of wood with my pocket-knife, breaking one in the work; how i mounted the piece of wood at last on wires, and then proceeded, by the help of a little glue-pot that my uncle bought on purpose, to stick polly's feathers on again. by the way, i think i fastened on her wings with tin tacks. it was a very, very long job; but at every stage my uncle sat and expressed his approval, and every spare hour was spent in the tool-house, where i patiently worked away. i grew very tired of my task, but felt that i must finish it, and i have often thought since what a splendid lesson it proved. and so i worked on and on, sticking little patches of skin here, feathers there, and i am afraid making such blunders as would have driven a naturalist frantic, for i am sure that patches of feathers that belonged to the breast were stuck on the back, and smooth back feathers ornamented polly's breast. the head was tolerably complete, so that was allowed to hang on the nail in the wall, where it seemed to watch the process of putting together again; but the tail was terrible, and often made me feel ready to give up in despair. but here my uncle really did help me, for when ever he saw me out of heart and tired he used to say: "suppose we give up now for a bit, nat, and have a run." then when the time came for another try at polly we used to laugh and say that we would have another turn at humpty dumpty. at last--and i don't know how long it took--the time had come when polly's head was to cease from staring down in a ghastly one-eyed way at her body, and it was to come down and crown the edifice. i remember it so well. it was a bright, sunny half-holiday, when i was longing to be off fishing, but with humpty dumpty incomplete there was no fishing for me, especially as aunt sophia had been asking how soon her pet was to be finished. "come along, nat," said uncle joseph, "and we'll soon finish it." i smiled rather sadly, for i did not feel at all sanguine. i made the glue-pot hot, however, and set to work, rearranging a patch or two of feathers that looked very bad, and then i stared at uncle and he gazed at me. i believe we both had some kind of an idea that the sort of feather tippet that hung from polly's head would act as a cloak to hide all the imperfections that were so plain. certainly some such hopeful idea was in my brain, though i did not feel sanguine. "now then, my boy, now then," cried my uncle, as at last i took polly's head from the nail, and he rubbed his hands with excitement. "we shall do it at last." i fancy i can smell the hot steaming glue now as i went about that day's work, for i kept on stirring it up and thinking how much i ought to put in the bird's neck and upon its skull to keep from soiling and making sticky all its feathers. it took some consideration, and all the while dear uncle joe watched me as attentively as if i were going to perform some wonderful operation. he even held his breath as i began to glue the head, and uttered a low sigh of relief as i replaced the brush in the pot. then as carefully as i could i fixed the head in its place, securing it the more tightly by driving a long thin stocking-needle right through the skull into the wood. and there it was, the result of a month's spare time and labour, and i drew back to contemplate this effort of genius. i can laugh now as i picture the whole scene. the rough bench on which stood the bird, the wall on which hung the garden tools, uncle joe with his pipe in one hand, his other resting upon his knee as he sat upon an upturned tub gazing straight at me, and i seem to see my own boyish self gazing at my task till i utterly broke down with the misery and vexation of my spirit, laying my head upon my arms and crying like a girl. for a few minutes uncle joe was so taken aback that he sat there breathing hard and staring at me. "why, nat--nat, my boy," he said at last, as he got down off the tub and stood there patting my shoulders. "what is the matter, my boy; are you poorly?" "no--no--no," i sobbed. "it's horrid, horrid, horrid!" "what's horrid, natty?" he said. "that dreadful bird. oh, uncle," i cried passionately, "i knew i couldn't do it when i began." "the bird? what! humpty dumpty? what! polly? why, my boy, she's splendid, and your aunt will be so--" "she's not," i cried, flashing into passion. "she isn't like a bird at all. i know how soft and rounded and smooth birds are; and did you ever see such a horrid thing as that? it's a beast, uncle! it's a regular guy! it's a--oh, oh!" in my rage of disappointment at the miserable result of so much hard work i tore the lump of feathered wood from the bench, dashed it upon the ground, and stamped upon it. then my passion seemed to flash away as quickly as it had come, and i stood staring at uncle joe and uncle joe stared at me. chapter six. a piece of deceit that was not carried out. for a few minutes neither of us spoke. uncle joe seemed to be astounded and completely taken off his balance. he put on his glasses and took them off over and over again. he laid down his pipe and rubbed his hands first and then his face with his crimson silk handkerchief, ending by taking off his glasses and rolling them in the handkerchief, flipping them afterwards under the bench all amongst the broken flower-pots. and all the time i felt a prey to the bitterest remorse, and as if i had done something so wicked that i could never be forgiven again. "oh, uncle! dear uncle joe," i cried passionately. "i am so--so sorry." "sorry, nat!" he said, taking my outstretched hands, and then drawing me to his breast, holding me there and patting my back with both his hands. "sorry, nat! yes, that's what i felt, my boy. it was such a pity, you know." "oh, no, uncle joe," i cried, looking down at my work. "it was horrible, and i've been more ashamed of it every day." "have you, nat, my boy?" he said. "oh, yes, uncle, but i kept on hoping that--that somehow--somehow it would come better." "that's what i've been hoping, my boy," he said, "for you did try very hard." "yes, uncle, i tried very, very hard, but it never did come better." "no, my boy, you are quite right; it never did come any better, but i hoped it would when you put on its head." "so did i, uncle, but it only seemed to make it look more ridiculous, and it wasn't a bit like a bird." "no, my boy, it wasn't a bit like a bird," he said weakly. "then why did you say it was capital, uncle?" i cried sharply. "well, my boy, because--because i--that is--i wanted to encourage you, and," he cried more confidently, "it was capital for you." "oh, uncle joe, it was disgraceful, and i don't know what aunt would have said." "i don't know what she will say now," said my uncle ruefully, as he gazed down at humpty dumpty's wreck, where it lay crushed into the dust. "i'm afraid she'll be very cross. you see i half told her that it would be done to-day, and i'm afraid--" "oh, uncle, why did you tell her that?" i said reproachfully. "well, my boy, you see she had been remonstrating a little about our being out here so much, and i'm afraid i have been preparing her for a surprise." "and now she'll be more cross than ever, uncle," i said, picking up the bird. "yes, my boy, now she'll be more cross than ever. it's a very bad job, nat, and i don't like to see you show such a temper as that." "i'm very sorry, uncle joe," i said humbly. "i didn't mean to fly out like that. it's just like jem boxhead at our school." "does he fly out into tempers like that, nat?" "yes, uncle, _often_." "it's a very bad job, my boy, and i never saw anything of the kind before in you. it isn't a disease, temper isn't, or i should think you had caught it. you couldn't catch a bad temper, you know, my boy. but don't you think, natty, we might still manage to put humpty dumpty together again?" "no, uncle," i said, "it's impossible;" and i know now that it was an impossibility from the first, for my hours of experience have taught me that i had engaged upon a hopeless task. he took out his crimson handkerchief, and reseating himself upon the tub began wiping his face and hands once more. "you've made me very hot, natty," he said. "what is to be done?" "i don't know, uncle," i said dolefully. "but are you very cross with me?" "cross, my boy? no. i was only thinking how much you are like my poor sister, your dear mother, who would go into a temper like that sometimes when we were boy and girl." "please, uncle," i said, laying my hand upon his arm, "i'll try very hard not to go into a temper again like that." "yes, yes, do, my boy," he said, taking my hand in his and speaking very affectionately. "don't give way to temper, my boy, it's a bad habit. but i'm not sorry, nat, i'm not a bit sorry, my dear boy, to see that you've got some spirit in you like your poor mother. she was so different to me, nat. i never had a bit of spirit, and people have always done as they pleased with me." i could not help thinking about my aunt just then, but i said nothing, and it was uncle joe who began again about the parrot. "so you think we could not put humpty dumpty together again, nat?" "no, uncle," i said despairingly, "i'm sure we could not. it's all so much lost time." "there's plenty more time to use, nat, for some things," he said dreamily, "but not for doing our work, and--and, my boy, after your aunt has let us be out here so much, i'm afraid that i dare not tell her of our failure." "then what's to be done, uncle?" i said. "i'm afraid, my boy, we must be very wicked and deceitful." "deceitful, uncle?" "yes, my boy, or your aunt will never forgive us." "why, what do you mean, uncle?" i said. "i've been thinking, my boy, that i might go out somewhere and buy a grey parrot--one already stuffed. i dare not face her without." i felt puzzled, and with a strong belief upon me that we were going to do a very foolish thing. "wouldn't it be better to go and tell aunt sophia frankly that we have had an accident, and spoiled the parrot, uncle?" "yes, my boy, much better," he said, "very much better; but--but i dare not do it, nat, i dare not do it." i felt as if i should like to say, "i'll do it, uncle," but i, too, shrank from the task, and we were saved from the underhanded proceeding by the appearance of my aunt at the tool-house door. my unfortunate attempt at restuffing poor polly made me less a favourite than ever with aunt sophia, who never let a day pass without making some unpleasant allusion to my condition there. my uncle assured me that i was in no wise dependent upon them, for my mother's money gave ample interest for my education and board, but aunt sophia always seemed to ignore that fact, so that but for uncle joe's kindness i should have been miserable indeed. the time slipped away, and i had grown to be a tall strong boy of fifteen; and in spite of my aunt's constant fault-finding i received sufficient encouragement from uncle joe to go on with my natural history pursuits, collecting butterflies and beetles, birds' eggs in the spring, and stuffing as many birds as i could obtain. some of these latter were very roughly done, but i had so natural a love for the various objects of nature, that i find the birds i did in those days, rough as they were, had a very lifelike appearance. i had only to ask my uncle for money to buy books or specimens and it was forthcoming, and so i went on arranging and rearranging, making a neatly written catalogue of my little museum in the tool-house, and always helped by uncle joe's encouragement. i suppose i was a strange boy, seeking the companionship of my school-fellows but very little, after my aunt had refused to let any of them visit me, or to let me go to their homes. i was driven thus, as it were, upon my own resources, and somehow i did not find mine to be an unhappy life; in fact so pleasant did it seem that when the time came for me to give it up i was very sorry to leave it, and felt ready to settle down to aunt's constant fault-finding for the sake of dear tender-hearted old uncle joe, who was broken completely in spirit at my having to go. "but it's right, nat, my boy, quite right," he said, "and you would only be spoiled if you stayed on here. it is time now that you began to think of growing to be a man, and i hope and pray that you'll grow into one of whom i can be proud." chapter seven. the return of the wanderer. one day when i came home from school i was surprised to find a tall dark gentleman in the drawing-room with my uncle and aunt. he was so dark that he looked to me at first to be a foreigner, and his dark keen eyes and long black beard all grizzled with white hairs made him so very different to uncle joseph that i could not help comparing one with the other. "this is master nathaniel, i suppose," said the stranger in a quick sharp way, just as if he was accustomed to order people about. "yes, that's joseph's nephew," said my aunt tartly, "and a nice boy he is." "you mean a nasty one," i said to myself, as i coloured up, "but you needn't have told a stranger." "yes," said uncle joseph, "he is a very nice boy, richard, and i'm very proud of him." my aunt gave a very loud sniff. "suppose we shake hands then, nathaniel," said the stranger, whom i immediately guessed to be my aunt sophia's brother richard, who was a learned man and a doctor, i had heard. he seemed to order me to shake hands with him, and i went up and held out mine, gazing full in his dark eyes, and wondering how much he knew. "well done, youngster," he said, giving my hand a squeeze that hurt me ever so, but i would not flinch. "i like to see a boy able to look one full in the face." "oh! he has impudence enough for anything," said my aunt. "oh! has he?" said our visitor smiling. "well, i would rather see a boy impudent than a milksop." "nat was never impudent to me," said my uncle, speaking up for me in a way that made my aunt stare. "i see--i see," said our visitor. "you never were fond of boys, sophy." "no, indeed," said my aunt. "cats and dogs were always more in your way," said our visitor. "get out!" this was to nap, who had been smelling about him for some time, and he gave him so rough a kick that the dog yelped out, and in a moment the temper that i had promised my uncle to keep under flashed forth again, as i caught at nap to protect him, and flushing scarlet-- "don't kick our dog," i said sharply. i've often thought since that my aunt ought to have been pleased with me for taking the part of my old friend and her favourite, but she turned upon me quickly. "leave the room, sir, directly. how dare you!" she cried. "to dare to speak to a visitor like that!" and i had to go out in disgrace, but as i closed the door i saw our visitor laughing and showing his white teeth. "i shall hate him," i said to myself, as i put my hands in my pockets and began to wander up and down the garden; but i had hardly gone to and fro half a dozen times before i heard voices, and i was about to creep round by the side path and get indoors out of the way when mr richard burnett caught sight of me, and shouted to me to come. i went up looking hurt and ill-used as he was coming down the path with uncle joe; but he clapped me on the shoulder, swung me round, and keeping his arm half round my neck, walked me up and down with them, and i listened as he kept on telling uncle joseph about where he had been. "five years in south america, wandering about away from civilisation, is a long time, joe; but i shall soon be off again." i pricked up my ears. "back to south america, dick?" "no, my dear boy, i shall go in another direction this time." "where shall you go this time, sir?" i said eagerly. "eh? where shall i go, squire?" he said sharply. "right away to borneo and new guinea, wherever i am likely to collect specimens and find new varieties." "do you collect, sir?" i said excitedly. "to be sure i do, my boy. do you?" he added with a smile. "yes, sir, all i can." "oh yes! he has quite a wonderful collection down in the tool-house, richard. come and see." our visitor smiled in such a contemptuous way that i coloured up again, and felt as if i should have liked to cry, "you sha'n't see them to make fun of my work." but by that time we were at the tool-house door, and just inside was my cabinet full of drawers that uncle had let the carpenter make for me, and my cases and boxes, and the birds i had stuffed. in fact by that time, after a couple of years collecting, the tools had been ousted to hang in another shed, and the tool-house was pretty well taken up with my lumber. "why, hallo!" cried our visitor; "who stuffed those birds?" i answered modestly enough that it was i. "and what's in these drawers, eh?" he said, pulling them out sharply one after the other, and then opening my cases. "nat's collections," said my uncle very proudly. "here's his catalogue." "neatly written out--numbered--latin names," he said, half to himself. "why, hallo, young fellow, i don't wonder that your aunt sophia says you are a bad character." "but he isn't, dick," said uncle joe warmly; "he's a very good lad, and sophy don't mean what she says." "she used to tell me i should come to no good in the old days when i began to make a mess at home, joe," he said merrily. "why, nat, my boy, you and i must be good friends. you would like to come and see my collection, eh?" "will you--will you show it to me, sir?" i said, catching him in my excitement by the sleeve. "well, i don't know," he said drily; "you looked daggers at me because i kicked your aunt's pet." "i couldn't help it, sir," i said; "nap has always been such good friends with me that i didn't like to see him hurt." "then i beg nap's pardon," he said smiling. "i thought he was only a useless pet; but if he can be a good friend to you he is a better dog than i thought for." "he'd be a splendid dog to hunt with, sir, if he had a chance." "would he? well, i'm glad of it, and you shall come and see my collection, and help me catalogue and arrange them if you like. here, hi! stop a minute: where are you going?" "only to fetch my cap, sir," i said excitedly, for the idea of seeing the collections of a man who had been five years in south america seemed to set me on fire. "plenty of time yet, my boy," he said, showing white teeth in a pleasant smile; "they are in the docks at southampton, on board ship. wait a bit, and you shall see all." chapter eight. i find myself a brother naturalist. i stood looking very hard at our visitor, doctor burnett, and thought how very different he was to aunt sophia. only a little while before, i had felt as if i must hate him for behaving so badly to nap, and for talking to me in such a cold, contemptuous way. it had seemed as if he would join with aunt sophia in making me uncomfortable, and i thought it would have been so much pleasanter if he had stayed away. but now, as i stood watching him, he was becoming quite a hero in my eyes, for not only had he been abroad seeing the wonders of the world, but he had suddenly shown a liking for me, and his whole manner was changed. when he had spoken to me in the house it had been in a pooh-poohing sort of fashion, as if i were a stupid troublesome boy, very much in the way, and as if he wondered at his sister and brother-in-law's keeping me upon the premises; but now the change was wonderful. the cold distant manner had gone, and he began to talk to me as if he had known me all my life. "shall we go round the garden again, dick?" said my uncle, after standing there nodding and smiling at me, evidently feeling very proud that his brother-in-law should take so much notice of the collection. "no," said our visitor sharply. "there, get your pipe, joe, and you can sit down and look on while i go over nat's collection. we naturalists always compare notes--eh, nat?" i turned scarlet with excitement and pleasure, while uncle joseph rubbed his hands, beaming with satisfaction, and proceeded to take down his long clay pipe from where it hung upon two nails in the wall, and his little tobacco jar from a niche below the rafters. "that's what i often do here, dick," he said; "i sit and smoke and give advice--when it is asked, and nat goes on with his stuffing and preserving." "then now, you may sit down and give advice--when it is asked," said our visitor smiling, "while nat and i compare notes. who taught you how to stuff birds, nat?" "i--i taught myself, sir," i replied. "taught yourself?" he said, pinching one of my birds--a starling that i had bought for a penny of a man with a gun. "yes, sir; i pulled polly to pieces." "you did what?" he cried, bursting into a roar of laughter. "why, who was polly--one of the maids?" "oh no, sir! aunt sophy's stuffed parrot." "well, really, nat," he said, laughing most heartily, "you're the strangest boy i ever met." "am i, sir?" i said, feeling a little chilled again, for he seemed to be laughing unpleasantly at me. "that you are, nat; but i like strange boys. so you pulled polly to pieces, eh? and found out where the naturalists put the wires, eh?" "yes, sir." "and how do you preserve the skins?" "with arsenical soap, sir." "that's right; so do i." "but it's very dangerous stuff, sir," i said eagerly. "not if it is properly used, my boy," he said, taking up bird after bird and examining it carefully. "a fire is a very dangerous thing if you thrust your hand into it, and uncle joe's razors are dangerous things if they are not properly used. you see i don't trouble them much," he added smiling. "no, indeed, sir," i said, as i glanced at his long beard. "i don't have hot water for shaving brought to me, nat, when i'm at sea, my boy, or out in the jungle. it's rough work there." "but it must be very nice, sir," i said eagerly. "very, my boy, when you lie down to sleep beneath a tree, so hungry that you could eat your boots, and not knowing whether the enemy that attacks you before morning will be a wild beast, a poisonous serpent, or a deadly fever." "but it must be very exciting, sir," i cried. "very, my boy," he said drily. "yes: that bird's rough, but i like the shape. there's nature in it--at least as much as you can get by imitation. look, joe, there's a soft roundness about that bird. it looks alive. some of our best bird-stuffers have no more notion of what a bird is like in real life than a baby. what made you put that tomtit in that position, nat?" he said, turning sharply to me. "that?--that's how they hang by the legs when they are picking the buds, sir," i said nervously, for i was quite startled by his quick, sudden way. "to be sure it is, nat, my boy. that's quite right. always take nature as your model, and imitate her as closely as you can. some of the stuffed birds at the british museum used to drive me into a rage. glad to see you have the true ring in you, my boy." i hardly knew what he meant by the "true ring", but it was evidently meant kindly, and i felt hotter than ever; but my spirits rose as i saw how pleased uncle joe was. "you can stuff birds, then, sir?" i said, after a pause, during which our visitor made himself very busy examining everything i had. "well, yes, nat, after a fashion. i'm not clever at it, for i never practise mounting. i can make skins." "make skins, sir?" "yes, my boy. don't you see that when i am in some wild place shooting and collecting, every scrap of luggage becomes a burden." "yes, sir; of course," i said, nodding my head sagely, "especially if the roads are not good." "roads, my boy," he said laughing; "the rivers and streams are the only roads in such places as i travel through. then, of course, i can't use wires and tow to distend my birds, so we make what we call skins. that is to say, after preparing the skin, all that is done is to tie the long bones together, and fill the bird out with some kind of wild cotton, press the head back on the body by means of a tiny paper cone or sugar-paper, put a band round the wings, and dry the skin in the sun." "yes, i know, sir," i cried eagerly; "and you pin the paper round the bird with a tiny bamboo skewer, and put another piece of bamboo through from head to tail." "why, how do you know?" he said wonderingly. "oh! nat knows a deal," said uncle joe, chuckling. "we're not such stupid people as you think, dick, even if we do stay at home." "i've got a skin or two, sir," i said, "and they were made like that." as i spoke i took the two skins out of an old cigar-box. "oh! i see," he said, as he took them very gently and smoothed their feathers with the greatest care. "where did you get these, nat?" "i bought them with my pocket-money in oxford street, sir," i said, as uncle joe, who had not before seen them, leaned forward. "and do you know what they are, my boy?" said our visitor. "no, sir; i have no books with pictures of them in, and the man who sold them to me did not know. can you tell me, sir?" "yes, nat, i think so," he said quietly. "this pretty dark bird with the black and white and crimson plumage is the rain-bird--the blue-billed gaper; and this softly-feathered fellow with the bristles at the side of his bill is a trogon." "a trogon, sir?" "yes, nat, a trogon; and these little bamboo skewers tell me directly that the birds came from somewhere in the east." i looked at him wonderingly. "yes, nat," he continued, "from the east, where the bamboo is used for endless purposes. it is hard, and will bear a sharp point, and is so abundant that the people seem to have no end to the use they make of it." "and have you seen birds like these alive, sir?" "no, nat, but i hope to do so before long. that blue-billed gaper probably came from malacca, and the trogon too. see how beautifully its wings are pencilled, and how the bright cinnamon of its back feathers contrasts with the bright crimson of its breast. we have plenty of trogons out in the west; some of them most gorgeous fellows, with tails a yard long, and of the most resplendent golden metallic green." "and humming-birds, sir?" "thousands, my boy; all darting through the air like living gems. the specimens brought home are very beautiful, but they are as nothing compared to those fairy-like little creatures, full of life and action, with the sun flashing from their plumage." "and are there humming-birds, sir, in the east?" i cried, feeling my mouth grow dry with excitement and interest. "no, my boy; but there is a tribe of tiny birds there that we know as sun-birds, almost as beautiful in their plumage, and of very similar habit. i hope to make a long study of their ways, and to get a good collection. i know nothing, however, more attractive to a man who loves nature than to lie down beneath some great plant of convolvulus, or any trumpet-shaped blossom, and watch the humming-birds flashing to and fro in the sunlight. their scale-like feathers on throat and head reflect the sun rays like so many gems, and their colours are the most gorgeous that it is possible to conceive. but there, i tire you. why, joe, your pipe's out!" "please go on, sir," i said in a hoarse whisper, for, as he spoke, i felt myself far away in some wondrous foreign land, lying beneath the trumpet-flowered tree or plant, gazing at the brilliant little creatures he described. "do you like to hear of such things, then?" he said smiling. "oh! so much, sir!" i cried; and he went on. "i believe some of them capture insects at certain times, but as a rule these lovely little birds live upon the honey they suck from the nectaries of these trumpet-shaped blossoms; and their bills are long and thin so that they can reach right to the end. some of these little creatures make quite a humming noise with their wings, and after darting here and there like a large fly they will seem to stop midway in the air, apparently motionless, but with their wings all the while beating so fast that they are almost invisible. sometimes one will stop like this just in front of some beautiful flower, and you may see it hang suspended in the air, while it thrusts in its long bill and drinks the sweet honey that forms its food." "and can you shoot such little things, sir?" i asked. "oh, yes, my boy; it is easy enough to shoot them," he replied. "the difficulty is to bring them down without hurting their plumage, which is extremely delicate. the indians shoot them with a blow-pipe and pellets and get very good specimens; but then one is not always with the indians; and in those hot climates a bird must be skinned directly, so i generally trust to myself and get my own specimens." "with a blow-pipe, sir?" "no, nat; i have tried, but i never got to be very clever with it. one wants to begin young to manage a blow-pipe well. i always shot my humming-birds with a gun." "and shot, sir?" "not always, nat. i have brought them down with the disturbance of the air or the wad of the gun. at other times i have used sand, or in places where i had no sand i have used water." "water!" i exclaimed. "yes, and very good it is for the purpose, nat. a little poured into the barrel of the gun after the powder is made safe with a couple of wads, is driven out in a fine cutting spray, which has secured me many a lovely specimen with its plumage unhurt." "but don't it seem rather cruel to shoot such lovely creatures, dick?" said uncle joe in an apologetic tone. "well, yes, it has struck me in that light before now," said our visitor; "but as i am working entirely with scientific views, and for the spread of the knowledge of the beautiful occupants of this world, i do not see the harm. besides, i never wantonly destroy life. and then, look here, my clear joe, if you come to think out these things you will find that almost invariably the bird or animal you kill has passed its life in killing other things upon which it lives." "ye-es," said uncle joe, "i suppose it has." "you wouldn't like to shoot a blackbird, perhaps?" "well, i don't know," said uncle joe. "they are the wickedest thieves that ever entered a garden; aren't they, nat?" "yes, uncle, they are a nuisance," i said. "well, suppose you killed a blackbird, joe," continued our visitor; "he has spent half his time in killing slugs and snails, and lugging poor unfortunate worms out of their holes; and it seems to me that the slug or the worm is just as likely to enjoy its life as the greedy blackbird, whom people protect because he has an orange bill and sings sweetly in the spring." "ye-es," said my uncle, looking all the while as if he were terribly puzzled, while i sat drinking in every word our visitor said, feeling that i had never before heard any one talk like that. "for my part," continued our visitor, "i never destroy life wantonly; and as for you, young man, you may take this for a piece of good advice--never kill for the sake of killing. let it be a work of necessity--for food, for a specimen, for your own protection, but never for sport. i don't like the word, nat; there is too much cruelty in what is called sport." "but wouldn't you kill lions and tigers, sir?" i said. "most decidedly, my boy. that is the struggle for life. i'd sooner kill a thousand tigers, nat, than one should kill me," he said laughing; "and for my part--" "joseph, i'm ashamed of you. nathaniel, this is your doing, you naughty boy," cried my aunt, appearing at the door. "it is really disgraceful, joseph, that you will come here to sit and smoke; and as for you, nathaniel, what do you mean, sir, by dragging your un--, i mean a visitor, down into this nasty, untidy place, and pestering him with your rubbish?" "oh, it was not nathaniel's doing, sophy," said our visitor smiling, as he rose and drew aunt's arm through his, "but mine; i've been making the boy show me his treasures. there, come along and you and i will have a good long chat now. nat, my boy, i sha'n't forget what we said." chapter nine. uncle dick's boxes. "i'm afraid we've made your aunt very cross, nat, my boy," said uncle joe, rubbing his hands softly, and looking perplexed and troubled. "do you think, nat, that i have been leading you wrong?" "i hope not, uncle," i said, "and i don't think so, for it has been very nice out here in the toolshed, and we have enjoyed ourselves so." "yes, my boy, we have, very much, indeed, but i'm afraid your aunt never forgave us for not putting humpty dumpty together again." "but, uncle," i said, "isn't it unreasonable of aunt sophia to expect us to do what all the king's horses and all the king's men could not do?" he looked at me for a few minutes without speaking, and then he began to smile very slightly, then a little more and a little more, till, instead of looking dreadfully serious, his face was as happy as it could be. then he began to laugh very heartily, and i laughed too, till the tears were in our eyes. "of--of course it was, nat," he cried, chuckling and coughing together. "we couldn't do what all the king's horses and all the king's men didn't manage, nat, and--yes, my dear, we're coming." uncle joe jumped up and went out of the tool-house, for my aunt's voice could be heard telling us to come in. "hush!" he whispered, with a finger on his lips. "make haste in, nat, and run up to your room and wash your hands." i followed him in, and somehow, whenever doctor burnett was in the room, my aunt did not seem so cross, especially as her brother took a good deal of notice of me, and kept on asking me questions. i soon found, to my great delight, that he was going to stay with us till he started for singapore, a place whose name somehow set me thinking about chinese people and indian rajahs, but that was all; the rest was to me one great mystery, and i used to lie in bed of a night and wonder what sort of a place it could be. every day our visitor grew less cool and distant in his ways, and at last my aunt said pettishly: "well, really, richard, it is too bad; this is the third morning this week you have kept that boy away from school by saying you wanted him. how do you expect his education to get on?" "get on?" said doctor burnett; "why, my dear sister, he is learning the whole time he is with me; i'll be bound to say that he has picked up more geography since he has been with me than he has all the time he has been to school." "i don't know so much about that," said my aunt snappishly. "then i do," he said. "let the boy alone, he is learning a great deal; and i shall want him more this next week." "you'd better take him away from school altogether," said my aunt angrily. "well, yes," said the doctor quietly; "as it is so near his holidays, he may as well stop away the rest of this half." "richard!" cried my aunt as i sat there pinching my legs to keep from looking pleased. "he will have to work hard at helping me with my collections, which are on the way here, i find, from a letter received this morning. there will be a great deal of copying and labelling, and that will improve his writing, though he does write a fair round hand." "but it will be neglecting his other studies," cried my aunt. "but then he will be picking up a good deal of latin, for i shall explain to him the meaning of the words as he writes them, and, besides, telling him as much as i know of natural history and my travels." "and what is to become of the boy then?" cried my aunt. "i will not have him turn idler, richard." "well, if you think i have turned idler, sophy," he said laughing, and showing his white teeth, "all i can say is, that idling over natural history and travelling is very hard work." "but the boy must not run wild as--" "i did? there, say it out, sophy," said her brother. "i don't mind, my dear; some people look upon everything they do not understand as idling." "i think i understand what is good for that boy," said my aunt shortly. "of course you do," said the doctor, "and you think it will do him good to help me a bit, sophy. come along, nat, my boy, we are to have the back-room for the chests, so we must make ready, for they will be here to-morrow." "oh, doctor burnett," i cried as soon as we were alone. "suppose you call me uncle richard for the future, my boy," he said. "by and by, when we get to know each other better, it will be uncle dick. why not at once, eh?" "i--i shouldn't like to call you that, sir," i said. "why not?" "i--i hardly know, sir, only that you seem so clever and to know so much." "then it shall be uncle dick at once," he said, laughing merrily; "for every day that you are with me, nat, you will be finding out more and more that i am not so clever as you think." so from that day it was always uncle dick, and as soon as the great chests arrived we set to work. i shall never forget those great rough boxes made of foreign wood, nor the intense interest with which i watched them as they were carried in upon the backs of the stout railway vanmen and set carefully in the large back-room. there were twenty of them altogether, and some were piled upon the others as if they were building stones, till at last the men's book had been signed, the money paid for carriage, and uncle joe, uncle dick, and i sat there alone staring at the chests and wondering at their appearance. for they were battered, and bruised, and chipped away in splinters, so that they looked very old indeed, though, as my uncle told me, there was not one there more than five years old, though they might have been fifty. every one had painted upon it in large white letters: "dr burnett, fzs, london," and i wondered what fzs might mean. then i noticed that the chests were all numbered, and i was longing intensely for them to be opened, when uncle dick, as i suppose i must call him now, made me start by crying out: "screw-driver!" i jumped up and ran to uncle joe's tool-box for the big screw-driver, and was back with it in a very short time, uncle dick laughing heartily as he saw my excitement. "thank you, nat, that will do," he said. "it will be nice and handy for me to-morrow morning." "ha--ha--ha!" he laughed directly after, as he saw my blank disappointed face. "did you think i was going to open the cases to-day, nat?" "i did hope so, sir," i said stoutly. "then i will," he cried, "for your being so frank. now then, which shall it be?" "i should begin with number one, sir," i said. "and so we will, nat. nothing like order. look here, my boy. here is my book for cataloguing." he showed me a large blank book ruled with lines, and on turning it over i found headings here and there under which the different specimens were to be placed. but i could not look much at the book while "our great traveller", as uncle joe used to call him to me, was busy at work with the screw-driver, taking out the great screws, one after another, and laying them in a box. "now, nat," he said, "suppose after going through all my trouble i find that half my specimens are destroyed, what shall i do?" "i don't know, uncle," i said. "i know what i should do." "what, my boy?" "go and try and find some more." "a good plan," he said laughing; "and when it means journeying ten or twelve thousand miles, my boy, to seek for more, it becomes a serious task." all this while he was working away at the screws, till they were half out and loose enough for me to go on turning them with my fingers, and this, after the first two or three, i did till we came to the last, when my uncle stopped and pretended that it was in so tight that it would not turn. "let me try, uncle," i cried. "you? nonsense! boy. there, i think we shall have to give up for to-day." he burst out laughing the next moment at my doleful face, gave the screw a few rapid twists; and in a few more moments it was out, and he took hold of the lid. "ready?" he exclaimed. "yes, quite ready," said uncle joe, who was nearly as much excited as i was myself; and then the lid was lifted and we eagerly looked inside. there was not much to see, only what looked like another lid, held in its place by a few stout nails. these were soon drawn out though, the second lid lifted, and still there was nothing to see but cotton-wool, which, however, sent out a curious spicy smell, hot and peppery, and mixed with camphor. then the treat began, for uncle dick removed a few layers of cotton-wool, and there were the birds lying closely packed, and so beautiful in plumage that we--that is, uncle joe and i--uttered a cry of delight. i had never before seen anything so beautiful, i thought, as the gorgeous colours of the birds before me, or they seemed to be so fresh and bright and different to anything i had seen in the museum, uncle dick having taken care, as i afterwards found, to reject any but the most perfect skins; and these were before me ready to be taken out and laid carefully upon some boards he had prepared for the purpose, and as i helped him i kept on asking questions till some people would have been answered out. uncle dick, however, encouraged me to go on questioning him, and i quickly picked up the names of a good many of the birds. now it would be a magnificent macaw all blue and scarlet. then a long-tailed paroquet of the most delicate green, and directly after quite a trayful of the most lovely little birds i had ever seen. they were about the size of chaffinches for the most part; but while some were of the richest crimson, others were blue and green and violet, and a dozen other shades of colour mixed up in the loveliest way. "now what are those, nat?" said my uncle. "i don't know, sir," i very naturally said. "what would they be if they were in england and only plain-coloured?" "why, i should have said by their beaks, uncle, that they were finches, and lived on seed." "finches they are, nat, and you are quite right to judge them by their beaks." "but i didn't know that there were finches abroad, uncle dick," i said. "then you know now, my boy, and by degrees you will learn that there are finches all over the world, and sparrows, and thrushes, and cuckoos, and larks, and hawks, crows, and all the other birds that you find in england." "why, i thought they were all different, uncle," i said. "so most people think," he said, as he went on unpacking the birds; "the difference is that while our british finches are sober coloured, those of hot countries are brilliant in plumage. so are the crow family and the thrushes, as you will see, while some of the sparrows and tits are perfect dandies." "why, i thought foreign birds were all parrots and humming-birds, and things like that." "well, we have those birds different abroad, nat," he replied, "and as i tell you the principal difference is in the gorgeous plumes." "but such birds as birds of paradise, uncle?" i said. "well, what should you suppose a bird of paradise to be?" "i don't know," i said. "well, should you think it were a finch, nat?" "no, uncle," i said at once. "well, it isn't a pheasant, is it?" "oh no!" "what then?" i stood with a tanager in one hand, a lovely manakin in the other, thinking. "they couldn't be crows," i said, "because--" "because what?" "i don't know, uncle." "no, of course you do not, my boy, for crows they really are." "what! birds of paradise with their lovely buff plumes, uncle?" "yes, birds of paradise with their lovely buff and amber plumes, my boy; they are of the crow family, just as our jays, magpies, and starlings are. you would be surprised, my boy, when you came to study and investigate these matters, how few comparatively are the families and classes to which birds belong, and how so many of the most gorgeous little fellows are only showily-dressed specimens of the familiar flutterers you have at home. look at that one there, just on the top." "what! that lovely orange and black bird, uncle?" i said, picking up the one he pointed at, and smoothing its rich plumage. "yes, nat," he said; "what is it?" uncle joe took his pipe from his lips, and looked at it very solemnly. "'tisn't a parrot," he said, "because it has not got a hooky beak." "no, it isn't a parrot, uncle," i exclaimed; "its beak is more like a starling's." "if it were a starling, what family would it belong to?" i stopped to think, and then recollected what he had said a short time before. "a crow, uncle." "quite right, my boy; but that bird is not one of the crows. try again." "i'm afraid to try, uncle," i said. "why, my boy?" "because i shall make some silly mistake." "then make a mistake, nat, and we will try to correct it. we learn from our blunders." "it looks to me something of the same shape as a thrush or blackbird, sir," i said. "and that's what it is, my boy. that bird is an oriole--the orange oriole; and there is another, the yellow oriole. both thrushes, nat, and out in the east there are plenty more of most beautiful colours, especially the ground-thrushes. but there is someone come to call us to feed, i suppose. we must go now." "oh!" i exclaimed, "what a pity! we seem to have just begun." all the same we had been at work for a very long time, so hands were washed, and we all went in to dinner. chapter ten. all amongst the bird skins. my aunt waylaid me with a very unpleasant task directly after dinner, but uncle dick saw my disappointment, and said that he must have me, so i escaped, and, to my great delight, we went at once to his room to go on unpacking the birds, my excitement and wonder increasing every minute. i was rather disappointed with some of the skins, for they were as plain and ordinary looking as sparrows or larks; but uncle dick seemed to set great store by them, and said that some of the plainest were most valuable for their rarity. uncle joe sat and looked on, saying very little, while uncle dick and i did the unpacking and arranging, laying the beautiful skins out in rows upon the boards and shelves. "they wanted unpacking," said uncle dick, "for some of them are quite soft and damp with exposure to the sea air. well, nat, what is it?" "i was hoping to find some birds of paradise, uncle," i replied. "then your hopes will be disappointed, my boy, for the simple reason that my travels have been in florida, mexico, central america, peru, and brazil, with a short stay of a few months in the west indies." "and are there no birds of paradise there, uncle?" "no, my boy, nor yet within thousands of miles. birds of paradise, as they are called, are found in the isles of the eastern seas, the aru isles and new guinea." "oh! how i should like to go!" i cried. "you?" he said laughing. "what for, nat?" "to shoot and collect, sir," i cried; "it must be grand." "and dangerous, and wearisome," he said smiling. "you would soon want to come back to uncle joe." "i shouldn't like to leave uncle joe," i said thoughtfully; "but i should like to go all the same. i'd take uncle joe with me," i said suddenly. "he'd help me ever so." uncle dick laughed, and we went on with our task, which never seemed to weary me, so delighted was i with the beauty of the birds. as one box was emptied another was begun, and by the time i had finished the second i thought we had exhausted all the beauty of the collection, and said so, but my uncle laughed. "why, we have not begun the chatterers yet, nat," he said. "let me see--yes," he continued, "they should be in that box upon which your uncle's sitting." uncle joe solemnly moved to another case and his late seat was opened, the layers of cotton-wool, in this case a little stained with sea-water, removed, and fresh beauties met my gaze. "there, nat," said uncle dick; "those are the fruits of a long stay in central america and the hotter parts of peru. what do you think of that bird?" i uttered an exclamation of delight as i drew forth and laid gently in my hand a short stumpy bird that must in life have been about as big as a very thick-set pigeon. but this bird was almost entirely of a rich orange colour, saving its short wings and tail, which were of a cinnamon-brown, and almost hidden by a fringe of curly, crisp orange plumes, while the bird's beak was covered by the radiating crest, something like a frill, that arched over the little creature's head. "why, nothing could be more beautiful than that, uncle," i cried. "what is it?" "the rock manakin, or chatterer," he replied; "an inhabitant of the hottest and most sterile parts of central america. here is another kind that i shot in peru. you see it is very similar but has less orange about it, and its crest is more like a tuft or shaving-brush than the lovely radiating ornament of the other bird. that is almost like a wheel of feathers in rapid motion." "and as orange as an orange," said uncle joe, approvingly. "i thought we could not find any more beautiful birds in your boxes, uncle," i said. "oh! but we have not done yet, my boy; wait and see." we went on with our task, the damp peculiar odour showing that it was high time the cases were emptied. "now, nat, we are coming to the cuckoos," he said, as i lifted a thin layer of wool. "it does seem curious for there to be cuckoos in america," i said. "i don't see why, nat," he replied, as he carefully arranged his specimens. "you remember i told you it was a cuckoo, probably from malacca, that you showed me you had bought; well, those you are about to unpack are some of the american representatives of the family. you will see that they are soft-billed birds, with a very wide gape and bristles like moustaches at the sides like thin bars to keep in the captives they take." "and what do they capture, sir?" i asked. "oh, caterpillars and butterflies and moths, nat. soft-bodied creatures. nature has given each bird suitable bills for its work. mind how you take out that bird. no: don't lift it yet. see, that top row must come out after the whole of that layer which is arranged all over the top row's tails." "what! do their tails go right along the box, uncle?" i cried. "yes, some of them, my boy. be careful: those are very tender and delicate birds." i lifted one, and held it out to uncle joe, who came down from his seat to examine the glories of the bird i had in my hands. it was something like the cinnamon-brown and crimson bird i had bought, but much larger. its breast was of a vivid rosy crimson, and its back and head one mass of the most brilliant golden-green. not the green of a leaf or strand of grass, but the green of glittering burnished metal that flashed and sparkled in the sunshine. it seemed impossible for it to be soft and downy, for each feather looked harsh, hard, and carved out of the brilliant flashing metal, while turn it which way i would it flashed and looked bright. "well, nat," said uncle dick, "what do you say to that?" "oh, uncle," i cried; "it is wonderful! but that cannot be a cuckoo." "why not, nat? if cuckoos are slaty coloured here and have breasts striped like a hawk, that is no reason why in the hot climates, where the sun burns your skin brown, they should not be brightly coloured in scarlet and green. you have seen that the modest speckled thrush of england has for relatives thrushes of yellow and orange. what has the poor cuckoo done that his hot country friends should not be gay?" "but do these lovely creatures suck all the little birds' eggs to make their voices clear?" "and when they cry `cuckoo' the summer draws near, eh, nat? no, my boy, i think not. to begin with, i believe that it is all a vulgar error about the cuckoo sucking little birds' eggs. doubtless cuckoos have been shot with eggs in their mouths, perhaps broken in the fall, but i think the eggs they carried were their own, which, after laying, they were on their way to put in some other bird's nest to be hatched, as it is an established fact they do; and because they are very small eggs people think they are those of some other bird that the cuckoo has stolen." "are cuckoos' eggs small, uncle?" i said. "very, my boy, for so large a bird. i have seen them very little larger than the wagtail's with which they were placed. then as to their crying `cuckoo' when summer draws near. i have heard their notes, and they live in a land of eternal summer. but go on emptying the case." i drew out specimen after specimen, some even more beautiful than the first i had taken from the case, though some were far more sober in their hues; but i had not taken out one yet from the top row. when at last i set one of these free, with his tail quite a yard in length, my admiration knew no bounds. in colouring it was wonderfully like the first which i have described, but in addition it had a golden-green crest, and the long feathers of the tail were of the same brilliant metallic colour. it seemed to me then--and though now i find beauties in sober hues i do not think i can alter my opinion--one of the loveliest, i should say one of the most magnificent, birds in creation, and when fourteen of these wonderful creatures were laid side by side i could have stopped for hours revelling in their beauties. "well, nat," said my uncle, who quite enjoyed my thorough admiration, "i should make quite a naturalist of you if i had you with me." "oh, if i could go!" i cried in an excited tone, at which he merely laughed. "i'd give anything to see those birds alive." "it requires some work and patience, my boy. i was a whole year in the most inaccessible places hunting for those trogons before i got them." "trogons! yes, you said they were trogons." "_trogon resplendens_. those long-tailed feathers are fitly named, nat, for they are splendid indeed." "glorious!" i cried enthusiastically; and though we worked for some time longer my help was very poor, on account of the number of times i kept turning to the splendid trogons to examine their beauties again and again. chapter eleven. my hopes. it was a long task, the emptying of those cases, even to get to the end of the birds, and i could not help thinking, as day after day crept by, what a wonderfully patient collector my uncle richard must have been. certainly he had been away for years and had travelled thousands of miles, but the labour to obtain all these birds, and then carefully skin, prepare, and fill them with wool, must have been tremendous. "and did you shoot them all, uncle?" i asked one day. "with very few exceptions, my boy," he replied, laying down his pen for a minute to talk. "i might have bought here and there specimens of the natives, but they are very rough preservers of birds, and i wanted my specimens to be as perfect as could be, as plenty of poor ones come into this country, some of which are little better than rubbish, and give naturalists a miserable idea of the real beauty of the birds in their native homes. but no one can tell the immense amount of labour it cost me to make this collection, as you will see, nat, when we open this next case." uncle dick was right. i was astonished as we emptied the next case, which was full of tiny specimens, hundreds upon hundreds of humming-birds, with crests and throats like beautiful precious stones, and all so small that it seemed wonderful how they could have been skinned and preserved. the more i worked with uncle dick the more i wondered, and the stronger grew my desire to follow in his steps. so when we had all the birds out so that they could dry in the warm air of the room, there were the cases full of beetles of all kinds, with glistening horny wing-cases; butterflies so large and beautiful that i used to lean over them, feast my eyes on their colours, and then go into day-dreams, in which i pictured to myself the wonderful far-off lands that produced such creatures, and think and think how it would be possible to go out there all alone, as my uncle had gone, and spend years in collecting these various objects to bring home. then i used to wake up again and work hard with my uncle, writing out names in his lists, all as carefully as i could, but of course making plenty of mistakes in the latin names, while uncle joe used to sit and smoke and look on, rarely speaking for fear of interrupting us, till uncle dick looked up and started a conversation by way of a rest. then all the different birds when thoroughly dry had to be repacked in the boxes, with plenty of camphor and other preservative spices and gums to keep the various insects away, and quite a couple of months had slipped away before we were nearly done. i ought to have been back at school, but uncle dick would not hear of my going, and he seemed to have such influence over my aunt that his word was quite law. "no, sophy, i have not half done with him," he said one evening. "i don't want to flatter the boy, but he is very valuable to me. i could easily get a clerk or copyist to make out my lists and help me select and rearrange my specimens; but he would do it mechanically. nat takes an interest in what he is doing, and is a naturalist at heart." "but he ought to be going on with his studies," said aunt sophia. "it is quite time he was back at school." "he is learning a great deal more than he would at school," said uncle dick; "and his handwriting is a good deal improved. it is more free and quicker." "but there are his other studies," said aunt sophia, who was in a bad humour. "well, sophy, he has picked up a great deal of latin since he has been helping me; knows ten times as much as he did about america and the west indian islands, and has picked up a host of little natural history facts, for he is always asking questions." "oh yes," said my aunt tartly, "he can ask questions enough! so can all boys." "but not sensible questions, my dear," said uncle dick smiling; but my aunt kept looking angrily at me as i sat hearing all that was going on. "sensible questions, indeed!" she said; "and pray, of what use is it going to be to him that he knows how to stick a pin through a butterfly and leave the poor thing to wriggle to death." "naturalists do not stick pins through butterflies and leave them to wriggle to death," said uncle dick, looking at me and smiling. "suppose they did, nat, what would happen?" "it would be very cruel, uncle, and would spoil the specimen," i said promptly. "to be sure it would, nat." "it's all waste of time, richard, and the boy shall go back to school." "i have not done with nat yet, sophy, and i shall be obliged by your ceasing to talk nonsense. it worries me." this was said in so quiet and decided a way, and in the voice of one so accustomed to command, that my aunt said: "well, richard, i suppose it must be as you wish." "yes, if you please," he said quietly. "i have the boy's interest at heart as much as you." as the time went on my aunt and uncle dick had two or three little encounters over this, in all of which aunt sophy was worsted; uncle dick quietly forcing her to let him have his own way in everything. this set me thinking very much about the future, for i knew that in less than two months' time uncle dick would be off upon his new expedition; one that was to be into the most unfrequented regions of the east indian islands, though he had said very little about it in my presence. "i should like to know all about where you are going, uncle dick," i said one afternoon, as we were working together. "why, my boy?" "because it is so interesting to know all about foreign lands, uncle." "well, my boy, i think of going from here straight away to singapore, either with or without a stay at ceylon. from singapore i mean to traverse most of the islands along the equator, staying longest at such of them as give me plenty of specimens. then i shall go on and on to new guinea, collecting all the time, spending perhaps four or five years out there before i return; that is, if the malays and papuans will be kind enough to leave me alone and not throw spears at me." "you will go where all the most beautiful birds are plentiful, uncle?" i said. "yes, my boy, collecting all the time." "shall you go alone, uncle?" i ventured to say after a pause. "yes, my boy, quite alone, except that i shall engage one or two native servants at the places where i stay, and perhaps i shall buy a boat for my own special use to cruise from island to island. why, what are you sighing about, boy?" "i was thinking about your going out there, uncle, all alone." "well, my boy, do you suppose i shall be frightened?" "no, uncle, of course not; but won't you be dull?" "i shall be too busy to be dull, my boy. the only likely time for me to be dull is of an evening, and then i shall go to sleep." he went on with his work until it grew dark, and then at his request i lit the lamp, placed it down close to his writing, and remained standing there by his elbow wanting to speak but not daring to do so, till he suddenly turned round and looked me in the face. "why, nat, my boy, what's the matter? are you unwell?" "no, uncle," i said slowly. "what then? is anything wrong?" "i--i was thinking about when you are gone, uncle." "ah! yes, my boy; you'll have to go back to school then and work away at your ciphering and french. i shall often think about you, nat, when i am busy over the birds i have shot, skinning and preserving them; and when i come back, nat, you must help me again." "when you come back?" i said dolefully. "yes, my lad. let me see--you are fourteen now. in four or five years you will have grown quite a man. perhaps you will not care to help me then." "oh, uncle!" i cried; for i could keep it back no longer. it had been the one great thought of my mind night and day for weeks now, and if my prayer were not gratified the whole of my future seemed to be too blank and miserable to be borne. "why, what is it, my boy?" he said. "nat, my lad, don't be afraid to speak out. is anything wrong?" "yes, uncle," i panted; for my words seemed to choke me. "speak out then, my boy, what is it?" "you--you are going away, uncle." "well, nat, you've known that for months," he said, with a smile. "yes, uncle; but don't go by yourself," i cried. "take me with you; i won't want much to eat--i won't give you any trouble; and i'll work so very, very hard to help you always, and i could be useful to you. pray--pray, uncle, take me too." he pushed his chair away from the table and sat gazing at me with a frown upon his face, then he jumped up and began walking swiftly up and down the room. "i would hardly let you know that i was with you, uncle, and there should be nothing you wanted that i would not do. don't be angry with me for asking to go, for i do want to go with you so very, very much." "angry, my boy! no, not angry," he cried; "but no, no; it is impossible." "don't say that, uncle," i cried; "i would work so hard." "yes, yes, my boy, i know that; but it would not be just to you to drag you away there to those wild lands to live like a savage half your time." "but i should like that, uncle," i cried excitedly. "to expose you to risks of voyaging, from the savages, and from disease. no, no, nat, you must not ask me. it would not do." "oh, uncle!" i cried, with such a pitiful look of disappointment on my face, that he stopped and laid his hand upon my shoulder. "why, nat, my boy," he said in a soft, gentle way, very different to his usual mode of speaking, "nothing would be more delightful to me than to have you for my companion; not for my servant, to work so hard, but to be my friend, helpmate, and counsellor in all my journeyings. why, it would be delightful to have you with me, boy, to enjoy with me the discovery of some new specimen." "which we had hunted out in some wild jungle where man had never been before, uncle!" "bird or butterfly, it would be all the same, nat; we should prize it and revel in our discovery." "yes, and i'd race you, uncle, and see which could find most new sorts." "and of an evening we could sit in our tent or hut, and skin and preserve, or pin out what we had found during the day, nat, eh?" "oh, uncle, it would be glorious!" i cried excitedly. "and i say-- birds of paradise! we would make such a collection of all the loveliest kinds." "then we should have to hunt and fish, nat, for the pot, for there would be no butchers' and fishmongers' shops, lad." "oh! it would be glorious, uncle!" i cried. "glorious, my boy!" he said as excitedly as i; "why, we should get on splendidly, and--tut, tut, tut! what an idiot am i! hold your tongue, sir, it is impossible!" "uncle!" "here have i been encouraging the boy, instead of crushing the idea at once," he cried impatiently. "no, no, no, nat, my boy. it was very foolish of me to speak as i did. you must not think of it any more." "oh! uncle, don't talk to me like that," i cried. "pray, pray take me with you." "i tell you no, boy," he said impatiently. "it would be unjust to you to encourage you to lead such a vagabond life as mine. say no more about it, sir," he added harshly. "it is impossible!" a deep sigh escaped my lips, and then i was silent, for my uncle turned to his writing again, and for the next week he was cold and distant to me, while i went on with my task in a dull, spiritless manner, feeling so miserable that i was always glad to go and hide myself away, to sit and think, and wonder what i should do when my uncle had gone. chapter twelve. uncle dick says "yes!" it was about a fortnight after this conversation, during the whole of which time uncle dick seemed to have kept me so at arm's-length that my very life had become wretched in the extreme, when, being in the drawing-room one evening, my aunt, who had been talking to him about his preparations for going away in three weeks' time, suddenly drew his attention to me. "do you see how ill and white this boy has turned, richard? now it's of no use you denying it; he's quite upset with your nasty birds and stuff." "no, he is not," cried uncle dick suddenly; and his whole manner changed. "the boy is fretting." "fretting!" cried my aunt; "with plenty to eat and drink, and a good bed to sleep on! what has he to fret about?" "he is fretting because he has taken it into his head that he would like to go with me." "like to go with you, dick?" cried uncle joe, laying hold of the arms of his easy-chair. "yes, joe, i'm afraid i have turned his head with my descriptions of collecting abroad." to my utter astonishment, as i sat there with my face burning, and my hands hot and damp, aunt sophy did not say a word. "but--but you wouldn't like to go with your uncle richard, nat, would you?" said uncle joe. "i can't help it, uncle," i said, as i went to him; "but i should like to go. i don't want to leave you, but i'd give anything to go collecting with uncle dick, anywhere, all over the world." uncle joe took out his red handkerchief and sat wiping his face. "i have turned it over in my mind a dozen times," said uncle dick, "and sometimes i have thought that it would be an injustice to the boy, sometimes i have concluded that with his taste for natural history, his knowledge of treating skins and setting out butterflies and moths, it would be a shame not to give him every encouragement." "how?" said my aunt, drily. "by taking him with me and letting him learn to be a naturalist." "humph!" said my aunt; "take him with you right away on your travels?" "yes," said my uncle dick. "but i don't think it would be right," said uncle joseph softly. "don't be stupid, joe," said my aunt sharply; "why shouldn't the boy go, i should like to know?" "oh, aunt!" i cried excitedly. "yes, sir, and oh, aunt, indeed!" she cried, quite mistaking my meaning. "do you suppose that you are to stay here idling away your time all your life--and--" "that will do," cried uncle dick quickly. "nat, my boy, i have held off from taking you before; but if your uncle joseph will give his consent as your guardian, you shall come with me as my pupil, companion, and son, if you will, and as far as in me lies i will do my duty by you. what say you, joe?" he continued, as i ran to him and took his extended hands. my aunt looked at me as if she were going to retract her permission; but she was stopped, i should say, for the first and last time in her life, by uncle joseph, who waved his hand and said sadly: "it will be a great grief to me, dick, a great grief," he said, "and i shall miss my boy nat very, very much; but i won't stand in his light, dick. i know that i can trust you to do well by the boy." "i will, joe, as well as if he were my own." "i know it, dick, i know it," said uncle joe softly; "and i can see that with you he will learn a very, very great deal. nat, my boy, you are very young yet, but you are a stout, strong boy, and your heart is in that sort of thing, i know." "and may i go--will you take me, uncle dick? say you will." "indeed i will, my boy," he cried, shaking my hand warmly; "only you will have to run the same risks as i do, and stick to me through thick and thin." "but i don't think it would be possible for him to be ready," said my aunt, who evidently now began to repent of her ready consent. "nonsense, sophy!" cried uncle dick; "i'll get him ready in time, with a far better outfit than you could contrive. leave that to me. well, nat, it is to be then. only think first; we may be away for years." "i don't mind, sir; only i should like to be able to write to uncle joe," i said. "you may write to him once a week, nat, and tell him all our adventures, my boy; but i don't promise you that you will always be able to post your letters. there, time is short. you shall go out with me this morning." "where to, uncle?" i said. "to the gunsmith's, my boy. i shall have to fit you up with a light rifle and double shot-gun; and what is more, teach you how to use them. get your cap and let's go: there is no time to spare." chapter thirteen. how i learned to shoot. i did not know where we were going, or how we got there, in my state of excitement; but i found myself as if in a dream handling guns and rifles that my uncle placed before me, and soon after we were in a long passage place with a white-washed target at the end, and half a dozen guns on a table at my side. "look here, nat," said uncle dick, "time soon steps by, my boy, and you will grow older and stronger every day, so i shall let you have both gun and rifle a little too heavy for you. you must make shift with them at first, and you will improve in their use day by day." "yes, uncle," i said as i looked at the beautifully finished weapons from which we were to choose. "did you ever fire off a gun?" said my uncle. "no, uncle." "you will not be afraid?" "will it hurt me, uncle?" "no." "then i'm not afraid," i said. he liked my confidence in his word, and nodded approval. just then the man with us took up one of the guns to load it, but my uncle stopped him. "no," he said; "let him load for himself. look, nat, this is one of the patent breech-loading rifles. i pull this lever and the breech of the gun opens so that i can put in this little roll, which is a cartridge-- do you see?" "yes, uncle." "now i close it, and the rifle is ready to fire. next i reopen, take out the cartridge, and close again. try if you can do the same." i took the rifle, and, with the exception of being too hurried and excited, did nearly as my uncle had done. "now, my boy," he said, "the piece is loaded, and a loaded gun or rifle is a very dangerous thing. never play with your piece; never trifle in any way; never let your barrel be pointed at those who are with you. remember those bits of advice." "yes, uncle." "there, now, put the piece to your shoulder, aim at that white target, and pull the trigger." "but there is no cap on," i said. "caps are things of the past, nat," he said smiling, "except that they are inclosed in the cartridge. now, then, hold your piece tightly to your shoulder, take careful aim--but quickly--and fire." i tried to obey him exactly, but the rifle seemed very heavy to hold up firmly, and the sight at the end of the barrel seemed to dance about; but i got it pretty steady for the moment, drew the trigger, there was a sharp report, and the stock of the piece seemed to give me a thump on the shoulder as i heard a dull _clang_. "well done, nat; a good beginning, boy. there, your bullet has hit the target just on the extreme edge." "what, that black star? is that the place, uncle?" "to be sure it is, my boy. i thought that rifle would be too heavy for you; but if you can do that the first time, it decides me to keep it." the man smiled approval, and my uncle took the rifle in his hand. "brush!" shouted the man, and a brush started out of a hole in the wall, and touched the target over with white-wash. "now for the double gun," said my uncle. "try this one, nat." i took the gun and put it to my shoulder, aiming at the target; but it seemed heavier than the rifle, and the sight wavered about. "try this one, nat," said my uncle; and he handed me another with rather shorter barrels. "i like this one, uncle," i said. "it's ever so much lighter." "no, sir," said the man smiling; "it's half a pound heavier. it is the make. the weight of the gun is more central, and it goes up to the eye better." "yes," said my uncle; "it is a handy little gun. load that the same as you did before." i found the construction so similar that i had no difficulty in loading both barrels of the gun, and it seemed such easy work to just slip in a couple of little rolls of brown paper as compared to the way in which i had seen men load guns with a ramrod. "now, nat," said my uncle in a quick businesslike way; "once more, you must remember that a gun is not a plaything, and though you are a boy in years you must begin to acquire the serious ways of a man. to handle a gun properly is an art, perfection in which means safety to yourself and friends, durability to the gun, and death quick and painless for the object at which you fire. now then. no hesitation, boy: raise your gun quickly to your shoulder, take a sharp aim, and fire right and left barrels at those two targets." my heart beat fast as i did as my uncle bade me, feeling two sharp thuds on my shoulder, and then as i stared through the smoke i expected to see the two white targets covered with shot marks. "better luck next time, nat," said my uncle smiling. "haven't i hit them, uncle?" i said in dismay. "no, my boy; one charge ploughed up the sawdust below the target on the right, and the other scored the white-washed wall three feet to the left of the second target." "but do you think it is a good gun, uncle? i aimed quite straight." "we'll see, nat," he replied, taking the gun from my hand, and reloading it with a quick cleverness of hand that fascinated me. then raising the gun he fired both barrels in rapid succession, hardly seeming to take aim, and as the smoke rose above our heads we all walked towards the targets, which looked like currant dumplings. the man with us rubbed his hands with satisfaction, saying that it was a capital close pattern, which my uncle afterwards explained to me meant that the shot marks were very close and regular all over the targets, instead of being scattered irregularly, which he said was a great disadvantage in a gun. "i don't think, sir, that you'll find many guns do better than that, sir; and, if you'll excuse me for saying so, i don't think many gentlemen would have made two such clever shots." "there is no cleverness in it," said my uncle quietly. "when a man spends all his days with a gun in his hand it becomes like second nature to him to hit that at which he aims. yes, i like the gun. now, nat, what do you say--which was in fault last time?" "i was, uncle," i said rather ruefully. "i thought it would be so easy to shoot." "so it is, my boy, when you have had practice. now come back and we will not lose any more time in selecting pieces. you shall have that gun and that rifle, and we will have a couple of hours' practice at loading and firing." we walked back to the table, and as we did so i saw a man thrust a long-handled brush from a loophole at the side of the wall and whiten the targets once more. "you decide upon those two pieces, then, sir," said the gunmaker; and my uncle bowed his head. i noticed then how quiet he seemed when away from home, speaking very little but always to the purpose; a habit, i suppose, acquired from his long and solitary life abroad. he then said that we had an abundant supply of cartridges, and took a chair beside me. "now, nat," he said, as soon as we were alone, save that a man was behind the loophole ready to thrust out his long-handled brush to whiten the target. "now, nat, my boy, fire away all that ammunition. it will not be wasted, for it will make you used to your gun. we will leave the rifle practice till we get to sea. now, then, begin, and mind this, when you have fired keep your eye upon the object at which you aimed. i'll tell you why. if it is a bird, say a valuable specimen, that we have been seeking for weeks, you may have hit the object, but it flies a short distance before it drops, and if you have lost sight of it for a moment all our trouble is wasted, for it is sometimes labour in vain to seek for small objects in a dense, perhaps impenetrable jungle." "i'll remember that, uncle." "another thing, my boy--a very simple thing, but one which you must learn to do, for your eyes are too valuable when we are collecting for them to do anything but look out for the treasures we seek. now mind this: you raise your gun, take aim, and fire--not hurriedly, mind, but with quick ease. then either before or after you have fired your second barrel, according to circumstances, but with your eyes still fixed upon the bird or animal at which you shot, open the breech of your gun, take out the spent cartridge, and reload." "without looking, uncle?" "certainly: your fingers will soon manage all that with a little education." i could not help a little nervous haste as i began to load and fire at the targets, but after two or three shots i grew more used to what i was doing, and to my great delight found that i had hit the target. then after a little more practice i found it so much easier that i generally saw one or two little spots on the white discs; and by the time that the ammunition was all gone--that was after i had fired forty-eight times--i had once or twice made a respectable show upon the target, but i finished off with four misses, and as my head was now aching badly from the concussion and the noise, i turned with a very rueful face to my uncle. "time we left off that," he said smiling. "you are tired, and your hands are getting unsteady." "i'm afraid i shall never shoot, uncle dick," i said dolefully. "nonsense, my boy!" he cried, clapping me on the shoulder; "you shot very badly indeed, but better than i expected, and you steadily improved until you grew tired. all these matters take time." chapter fourteen. how to manage a boat. the time was short before we were to start on our long journey, but uncle dick was determined to make the best of it, and he steadily went on with what he called my education, as well as fitting me out with proper necessaries for my voyage. these last were very few and simple. "for you see, nat," he said, smiling, "we must not encumber ourselves with anything unnecessary. you must bid good-bye to collars and cuffs, and be content with flannels, one to wear and one for your knapsack; and this you will have to wash and dry whenever you get a chance. we'll take some socks, but after a time we shall have to be content with nothing but good boots. we must not have an ounce of luggage that we can do without." it was a delicious time of adventure to me as i went about with uncle dick buying the necessaries for our trip, and very proud i felt of my flannels and stout drill breeches and norfolk jackets, with belt to hold cartridges, and a strong sheathed knife. every day i had a long practice with my gun with what uncle said were satisfactory results; and matters had been going on like this for about a fortnight when my uncle said one day: "now, nat, we must have a bit more education, my boy. we shall very often be left to our own resources, and travel from island to island in a boat, which we shall have to manage; so come along and let me see if i cannot make a sailor of you before we start." in order to do this he took me down to gravesend, where, in spite of its being a rough day, he engaged a sailing-boat. "bit too rough for that, mister, isn't it?" said a rough-looking sailor who stood by with his hands in his pockets. "it is rough, my man," said my uncle quietly. "jump in, nat." i felt afraid, but i would not show it, and jumped into the boat, which was pushed off, and my uncle at once proceeded to hoist the lug-sail. "that's right, nat," he said encouragingly. "i saw that you felt a bit nervous, for your cheeks were white; but that is the way: bravely meet a terror and it shrinks to half its size. i can remember feeling as timid as could be on entering an open boat and pulling off in a choppy sea; but now i know the danger, and how to meet it, i feel as calm and comfortable as you will after a trip or two. now then, lay hold of that rope and give a pull when i cry `haul', and we'll soon have a little sail upon her." i did as he bade me, and, pulling at the rope, the sail was hoisted part of the way with the effect that it ballooned out in an instant, and the boat went sidewise. "mind, uncle," i shouted; "the boat's going over;" and i clung to the other side. "no, it isn't, nat," he said coolly. "we could heel over twice as much as that without danger. i'll show you. take another pull here." "no, no, uncle," i cried, "i'm satisfied; i believe you." "take hold of the rope and haul," he shouted; and i obeyed him, with the boat heeling over so terribly that i felt sure that the water would rush over the side. he laughed as he made fast the rope, and bade me go to the rudder, for i had taken tight hold of the side of the boat. there was something so quick and decided about uncle dick's way of ordering anyone that i never thought of disobeying him, and i crept to the rudder, while he took his place beside me as the boat danced up and down upon what i, who had never seen the open sea, thought frightful waves. "now, nat," he said, "you see this rope i have here." "yes, uncle." "this is the sheet, as it is called, of the sail, and it runs through that block to make it easier for me to give or take as i want. now, my boy, here is your first lesson in managing a sailing-boat whether the wind is rough, or as gentle as a breath. never fasten your sheet, but hold it loose in your hand." "why, uncle?" i said, as it seemed to me that it would have saved all the trouble of holding it if it had been tied to the side. "that's why," he said, as just then the wind increased, so that i clung once more to the side, for the sail was blown so hard that the boat would have gone over enough for the water to rush in if uncle dick had not let the rope run swiftly through his hands, making the sail quite loose, and the boat became upright once more. "i brought you out on a roughish day, nat," he continued, "so as to give you a good lesson. look here, nat,--if an unskilful rider mounted a spirited horse he would most likely be thrown; and if a person who does not know how to manage a sailing-boat goes out in one on a windy day, the chances are that the boat is capsized, fills, and goes to the bottom. now, if i had not had hold of the sheet then, and eased off the sail--let it go, as a sailor would call it,--we should have been capsized, and then--" "what then, uncle?" i said, feeling very nervous indeed. "we should have gone to the bottom, my boy, and been drowned, for i don't think i could have swum ashore from here in my clothes and taken you as well." "then--then, hadn't we much better go ashore at once, uncle?" i said, looking at him nervously. "yes, nat, i'll take you ashore at once if you feel afraid; but before doing so i will tell you that i brought you out here to give you a severe lesson in what boat-sailing with me is likely to be; and i tell you besides, nat, that i know well how to manage a boat. you have had enough of it, i see, and we will go back." he made a motion to take the tiller out of my hands, for i was steering as he told me to steer, but i pushed his hand back. "i thought you were frightened, nat," he said; and then there was a pause, for i wanted to speak, but the words would not come. at last, though, they did. "i am frightened, uncle, very much frightened; and this going up and down makes me feel sick." "all right, then, nat, we'll go back," he said kindly; but he was watching me all the while. "no," i gasped, "we won't, and--and," i cried, setting my teeth fast, "i won't be sick." "but it is dangerous, nat, my boy," he said; "and we are going straight away into rougher water. let us go back." "no," i said, "you brought me out to try me, uncle, and i won't be a coward, not if i die." he turned his head away for a few minutes, and seemed to be looking at the distant shore, and all the while the little boat rushed through the water at a tremendous rate, the sail bellying out and the gunwale down dangerously near the waves as we seemed to cut our way along. the feeling of sickness that had troubled me before now seemed to go off, as if my determination had had something to do with it; and in spite of the sensation of dread i could not help liking my position, and the way in which we mastered the waves, as it were, going head on to one that seemed as if it would leap into the boat, but only for us to rise up its slope and then plunge down to meet another, while the danger i had feared minute after minute floated away astern. when my uncle turned his head he said quietly: "nat, my boy, it was dangerous work to come out here with me; but, my boy, it is far more dangerous work to go out on that long voyage with me amongst savages, perhaps; to sail on unknown seas, and to meet perils that we can not prepare to encounter. do you not think, my boy, you have chosen badly? come, nat, speak out. i will not call you a coward, for it would only be natural for you to refuse to go. come, speak to me frankly. what do you say?" "was it dangerous to come out to-day, uncle, in this little boat?" "decidedly, my boy. you heard what that old boatman said." "yes, uncle. then why did you come?" he stared at me for a moment or two, and then said quietly to me, leaning forward so that he could look straight into my eyes. "to give you a lesson, my boy." "but you knew you could manage the boat, uncle?" "yes, my boy. i have had a good deal of experience in boat-sailing on the great american rivers, and on the sea." "and you would not mind coming out at a time like this, uncle?" "no, my boy, certainly not. i have been out years ago with the yarmouth boatmen in very rough seas indeed." there was a pause for a time, and then he said again, "well, nat, will you give up?" "no, uncle," i said excitedly, "i don't feel half so frightened. i couldn't help it then." "you'd have been a strange boy, nat, if you had helped it," he said laughing; "and i am very glad we came. now, let me tell you that we are in a very small boat in water quite rough enough to be very dangerous; but knowing what i do, possessing, as i do, the knowledge which is power, nat, there is not the least danger whatever, and you may rest perfectly assured that we will get back quite safe." "then i've been terribly cowardly, and afraid for nothing, uncle," i said, as i felt horribly ashamed. "yes, my boy, but that is generally the case," he said smiling. "you were afraid because you were ignorant. once you know well what you are about, you feel ashamed of your old cowardice." "but it's very shocking to be like that, uncle," i said. "not at all, my boy. it is the result of ignorance. the more ignorant and uncultivated people are, the greater cowards they seem. they are superstitious, and believe in ghosts and goblins and imps and fairies; and as for savages in far-off regions, they are sometimes the greatest cowards under the sun." "i feel very much ashamed of myself, uncle," i said, and the tears stood in my eyes. he looked at me very kindly as i spoke. "i wish i was not so ignorant." "for my part, nat," he said, "i feel very proud of you, my boy; and let me tell you that you have no cause to be ashamed at all. now take hold of the sheet here, and give and take as i tell you. don't be afraid to let it slip through your hands fast if there is a heavy squall. i'll steer. the sea is heavier out in this long reach. tell me when you'd like to put back." "i don't want to go back, uncle," i said; "let's go on." he nodded, and away we dashed, scudding along and riding over the waves, while he showed me how he steered, and why he did this and that; how, by a little pressure on the tiller, he could check our speed, and even turn the little vessel so that we were facing where the wind blew from, and now the sail flapped angrily; but we made no progress at all, only were tossed about on the waves. i told him that i thought we could only go along with the wind straight behind us, but he showed me how we could sail with the wind on either side, and sometimes with it almost facing us, by what he called tacking, which i found meant that, if the wind came from straight before us, say at a certain point in front, we could get there at last by zigzagging through the water, now half a mile to the left, now half a mile to the right, a common way of progressing which brought us nearer and nearer every time. "the sea is rougher than i thought," he said, "for i suppose we may call it sea out here, nat, this being the estuary of the thames, so i think i'll make that do for to-day." "don't go back for me, uncle," i said, as a wave broke over the bow of the boat, splashing us from top to toe. "i am going back for both our sakes, nat, for we shall soon be wet through. it is a day for india-rubber coats; but this has been a glorious sail, and a splendid lesson for you, nat." "yes, uncle," i said, "and i feel hardly frightened a bit now." "no, my boy, it has given you far more confidence than you had before. it is live and learn, nat; you believe more in me and i believe more in you." he gave me one of his nods as he said this, and then took the rope from my hand. "now, nat, steer us home, my boy; i'll tell you what to do. by and by you and i will have a native boat, perhaps, with a matting sail, to manage, sailing about near the equator." "but is it rough out there, uncle, amongst the islands?" i said. "very, at times, my boy; but with a light, well-built boat like this i should not be afraid to go anywhere. see how like a duck she is in shape, and how easily she rides over the waves. i should like to have one exactly the same build but twice as large, and with the fore part and poop decked over or covered in with canvas; and i don't know but what it would be wise to take out such a boat." then he went on giving me explanations about the sail, and which was a lug-sail, what was meant by fore-and-aft rig, and a dozen other things, showing me the while too how to steer. the result was that, drenched with spray, but all in a glow with excitement, we got safely back, and for my part feeling that i had had a lesson indeed, and ready to put out any time with my uncle in far rougher seas. chapter fifteen. saying "good-bye!" days of practice with my gun followed, and then two or three more afternoons in the mouth of the thames, my uncle always selecting the roughest days for that purpose; but after a time or two i quite got over my dread of the water, and was ready enough to hold the sheet or take the tiller, picking up very rapidly a knowledge of how to steer so as to ease the boat over the waves that would take us on the beam; learning how to tack and go about: and a dozen other little matters highly necessary for one who attempts the management of a boat. and then the day of parting came, for uncle dick had made all his preparations, which were after all very simple, consisting as they did of two or three changes of clothes, plenty of ammunition, tools for skinning birds and animals, an abundant supply of preserving paste, and some medicines. it was arranged that we were to go by one of the french steamers from marseilles, to catch which we had of course to cross france, and then we intended to travel by one of the peninsular and oriental steamers to singapore after crossing the isthmus of suez, for this was long before monsieur de lesseps had thrust spade into the sand. "get the good-byes over quickly, nat," said uncle dick; and this i did as far as my aunt sophy was concerned, though she did kiss me and seem more affectionate than usual. but it was different with poor uncle joseph, and had i known how he would take it to heart i'm afraid that i should have thought twice over before making up my mind to go. "i can hardly believe it, nat, my boy," he said in a husky voice. "it don't seem natural for you to be going away, my boy, and i don't know how i shall get on without you." as he spoke he held my hands in his, and though he was pretending to be very cheerful, i could see that he was greatly troubled, and after all his kindness to me i felt as if i was behaving cruelly and ungratefully in the extreme. "but i'm not going to grieve about you, nat, my boy," he said quite cheerfully, "and here's your knife." as he spoke he drew a splendid great jack-knife out of his pocket, hauling out a quantity of white cord to which it was attached, and proceeding to fasten it round my waist. "there, nat, my boy," he said, "it was the best i could get you; and the man says it is a splendid bit of stuff. do you like it, nat--do you like it?" "oh, uncle," i said, "it is too kind of you!" "not a bit, my boy, not a bit; and now make good use of it, and grow strong and big, and come back as clever a man as your uncle, and i know you will." there is a bit of history to that knife, for it was only the day before that he and i and uncle dick were together, and uncle joe wanted to make me a present. "there, nat," said uncle joe, drawing his heavy gold watch out of the fob by its watered-silk ribbon with the handsomely chased gold key and large topaz seal at the end, "i shall give you that watch, my boy, for a keepsake. take it, nat, and put it in your pocket; keep it out of sight, my boy, till you have gone. i shall tell your aunt afterwards, but she mightn't like it, you know, and it would be a little unpleasant." "but i don't like to take your watch, uncle," i said, glad as i should have been to have it, for it seemed too bad to take it away. "quite right, nat," said uncle dick; "don't take it." "not take it!" said uncle joe in a disappointed tone. "no; he does not want a watch, joe. where he is going he must make the sun his watch." "yes," said uncle joe quickly, "but how about the night?" "then he'll have to sleep and rest himself for the next day's work." "and how about getting up in good time?" "daylight's the good time for getting up, joe," said uncle dick; "and the sun will tell him the time." "ah!" cried uncle joe triumphantly, "but the sun does not always shine." "no, not here," replied uncle dick. "you have too much smoke and fog. we are going where he shines almost too much. here, put away your watch, joe. it is of no use to a boy who will be journeying through the primeval forest, plunging through thorny undergrowth or bog, or fording rivers and letting his clothes dry on him afterwards." "but i should have liked him to have the watch," said uncle joe, rubbing one side of his nose softly with the case. "leave it for him in your will, then, my boy," said uncle dick. "he wants nothing that will encumber him, and your watch would only be a nuisance when the water had soaked in. leave it to him in your will." "yes," said uncle joseph, "but i should have liked to give him something else to make him always remember me when he's away." "why, uncle joe," i cried, with a curious choking feeling coming in my throat, "you don't think i could ever forget you?" "no, my boy, no," he said, shaking my hand very heartily, and then laying the watch down, as if he didn't care to take to it again. "it's very kind of you, joe," said uncle dick, for he saw how his brother-in-law seemed hurt; "but don't you see, my dear boy, we are going to lead the roughest of rough lives, and what we carry at a time when every extra ounce will be a trouble, must be the barest necessities. i've often had to leave behind valuable things, solely because i could not carry them. here, i tell you what: you go into the city to-morrow, and buy him one of the best, and biggest, and strongest jack-knives you can find; one of those with a steel loop so that it can hang handily from a lanyard, ready for any purpose from cutting his breakfast to hacking a way through the canes, or skinning a wild beast. you could not give him a better present than that." "to be sure," cried uncle joe, brightening up, "i will. what kind of a handle would you like, nat?" "never mind the handle, joe; look to the blade. let it be a thoroughly good bit of stuff, the best you can buy." "to be sure. yes; to be sure," cried uncle joe; and taking up his watch he lowered it so carelessly into its place that it missed the fob, and ran down the right leg of his trousers into his wellington boot. i had to turn boot-jack and drag the boot off before the watch could be recovered, uncle dick laughing heartily the while. and now this was the knife the good, amiable old fellow had got for me, and certainly it was one that would stand me in good stead for any length of time. "good-bye, joe, old fellow," said uncle dick, gripping his hand fast. "i'll take care of nat." "yes, yes, you will, won't you?" he cried. "indeed i will, joe, indeed i will; and now once more good-bye, old fellow, i'm off. till we meet again. come after me soon, nat." uncle dick went away so as to leave us together, and no sooner were we alone than uncle joe hesitated for a moment, and then hugged me to his breast. "good-bye; god bless you, my boy!" he cried. "it's all for the best, and i won't worry about your going; only come back to me as soon as you can, and mind you write." i can remember that there was a curious dim look about everything just then, and that uncle dick was very quiet in the cab; and so he was in the train, speaking to me hardly at all, and afterwards he read to himself nearly all the way to paris, after which he suddenly seemed to turn merry and bright, and chatted to me in the heartiest way. chapter sixteen. out on the blue water. everything was so new to me that, on embarking at marseilles, i was never tired of inspecting the large steamer, and trying, with only moderate success, to talk to the french sailors, who, on learning our destination, were very civil; but, after the first day or two, began to joke me about never coming back any more. it was comical work trying to make out what they meant as they began to talk to me about the terrible wild beasts i should meet, and, above all, about the orang-outangs, which they assured me were eight or nine feet high, and would look upon me, they assured me, as a _bonne bouche_. the third day out on the beautiful blue water, as some of the passengers had guns out, and were shooting at the sea-birds for amusement merely, a practice that i should have thought very cruel but for the fact that they never once hit anything, uncle dick came up to me on the poop deck and clapped me on the shoulder. "now, nat," he said, "there's plenty of room out here for a rifle ball to go humming away as far as it likes without danger to anyone; so get out your rifle and you shall have a practice." "at the sea-gulls, uncle?" i said. "no, no; nonsense!" he said; "we don't shoot sea-gulls with a rifle. i shall start you with a target." "a target, uncle?" i said; "but if you do, we shall leave it all behind in a very short time." "to be sure we shall," he replied, laughing; "and then we'll have another." i ran down and got my rifle out of the cabin, feeling half ashamed to go on deck again when i had fastened on my belt full of cartridges; but i got over my modesty, and joined my uncle, whom i found waiting for me with half a dozen black wine bottles, and as many bladders blown out tightly, while the bottles were empty and firmly corked. "now, nat," he said, "here are your targets, and i reckon upon your having half a dozen shots at each before the steamer takes us too far away, unless you manage to sink it sooner." i looked at my uncle to see if he was laughing at me, but he was quite serious, and, in obedience to his order, i loaded and stood ready. "now, look here, my boy," he said; "this will be rather a difficult task, for both your target and you are in motion. so you must aim as well as you can. i should draw trigger just as the bladder is rising." "but how shall we know if i hit it?" "you are not very likely to hit it, nat," he said smiling; "but if you do, the bladder will collapse--the bottle be shivered to fragments, and sink. now let us see." it made me feel nervous to see so many people collect about me, one and all eager to witness my skill, and i knew enough french to understand a good many of their remarks. some said i must be a very skilful shot, others that i could not shoot at all; and one way and another they disconcerted me so that, when my uncle threw the first bladder over the side, and i saw it floating away, i felt so confused that i let it get some distance before i fired. "reload," said my uncle; and i did so, and fired again. "reload," he said; and, having obeyed him, i waited till the bladder was on the top of a wave, and again fired without result. "again," said my uncle; "don't hesitate, and fire sharply." the bladder was now getting a long way astern and looking very small, so small that i knew i should not hit it, and consequently i felt no surprise that it should go floating away. "don't lose time, nat," my uncle continued, just as if it was quite a matter of course that i should go on missing shot after shot. so once more i prepared to fire, and as i did so i saw that two of the french passengers had their telescopes fixed upon the object at which, after taking very careful aim, speck as it seemed, i fired. to my utter astonishment, as the smoke rose i saw no bladder was floating on the waves, a fact of which the lookers-on had already informed me by a round of applause. "he would not hit them when they were close," cried one passenger. "i said, he would not try. it was un grand shot, messieurs, un coup merveilleux." i felt scarlet in the face, and grew the more and more ashamed as first one and then another insisted upon shaking hands with me. "now, nat," said my uncle in a low voice, "after that you will lose your character if you do not hit some more." "pray, don't send out another, uncle," i whispered. "why not, boy? what does it matter if you do miss? keep on practising, and never mind what people say. are you ready?" "yes, uncle." "fire, then, as soon as you get a good view of the bladder." i waited until it was about forty yards away, and rising slowly to the top of a wave, when, calculating the distance as well as i could, i fired, and the bladder disappeared. i could not believe it, and expected each moment to see it come back to the surface; but no, there was no bladder visible; and, having reloaded, my uncle sent another afloat, bidding me wait till it was farther away before i fired. i obeyed him and missed. fired again and missed, but the third time the bladder collapsed and sank, and my reputation as a marksman was made. the french passengers would have petted and spoiled me had not my uncle interfered; and when we were once more alone he began to talk of my success. "you quite exceeded anything i expected, nat," he said smiling. "how you managed it, my boy, i cannot tell. the first time i set it down to pure accident; but when you repeated it again and again, all i can say, my boy, is that your eyes must be wonderfully good, and your aim and judgment even better. i doubt with all my practice whether i could have been more successful." "i think it must have been chance, uncle," i said, "for i seemed to have no time to aim, and the vessel heaved up so just then." "no, my boy," he replied, "it was not chance, but the result in a great measure of your practice with your gun; but you will not always shoot so well as that. when you come to be out with me in the wilds of one of the islands we visit, and have perhaps been tramping miles through rough forest, you will find it hard work to hit the object at which you aim." "but it will be easier to shoot from the ground than from on shipboard, uncle, will it not?" "for some things yes, my boy, for others no. but wait a bit, nat, and we shall see." the practice was kept up all through our voyage, and i became quite an adept at breaking floating bottles and other objects that were sent over the side, for the bladders soon came to an end; but our voyage was very uneventful. it was always enjoyable, for there was so much that was fresh to see. i never complained about the heat, which was very great, although people were lying about under awnings, while i used to get into the chains, or the rigging below the bowsprit, so as to gaze down into the wonderfully clear water and watch the dolphins and bonita as they darted through the sunlit depths with such ease and grace. sometimes i have wished that i could be a fish, able with a sweep or two of my powerful tail to dart myself through the water just as i pleased, or float at any depth, keeping up with the huge steamer as it was driven on. then a change would come over me, and i would think to myself: well, i'm very glad i'm not a fish; for just as i would be watching some lovely mackerel-like fellow with a flashing back of mottled blue and purple, some monster ten times his size would make a dart at him and engulf him in his capacious throat. and as i watched the larger fish seize their food, it seemed to me that once they could get within easy range they seemed to suck their prey into their jaws, drawing it in with the great rush of water they sent through their gills. it was not tempting at such times and above all when one used to see a thin grey fellow, six or eight feet long, seeming to sneak by the side of the ship, or just astern, where there was an eddy. every now and then it would turn half over and show the pale under parts as it made a snatch at something that looked good to eat; and after a good many tries the sailors managed to catch one by means of a hook baited with a piece of ham that had been condemned as high. it was only about six feet long, and when it lay on the wet deck thrashing about with its tail i thought that after all a shark was not such a dangerous-looking creature as i expected, and i said so to my uncle. "think not, nat?" he said. "why, no, uncle, i don't think i should be afraid of a shark; i think i could catch such a fellow as that with a rod and line." "ah! nat, some of them run up to fifteen or twenty feet in length," he said; "and they are awfully savage brutes. such a one as this would be enough to kill a man." "he don't look like it, uncle," i said. "why, look here!" i ran to where the shark lay, and stooping down, seized it with both hands by the thin part just before where the tail forked, meaning to give it a shake and drag the brute along the deck; but just as i got tight hold the creature seemed to send a wave down its spine, and with one flip i was sent staggering across the deck to fall heavily at full length, the crew and passengers around roaring with laughter at my discomfiture. i was so angry and mortified that i jumped up, opened my great jack-knife, and was rushing at the shark, when my uncle laid his hand upon my arm. "don't be foolish, nat, but take your lesson like a man. you will not despise the strength of a shark for the future." "why, it was like touching a great steel spring, uncle," i said. "if anything i should say that the backbone of a shark has more power in it when set in motion than a steel spring, nat," he said. "there, now, our friend is helpless, and we can examine him in peace." for, after thrashing the deck with a series of tremendous blows with his tail, the shark had his quietus given to him with a few blows of a hatchet, and as he lay upon the deck my uncle pointed out to me the peculiarity of the monster's structure, and after we had examined his nasty sharp triangular teeth in the apparently awkwardly placed mouth, i was shown how it was that a shark had such wonderful power of propelling itself through the water, for in place of having an ordinary fin-like tail, made up of so many bones with a membrane between, the shark's spine is continued right along to the extremity of the upper curve of its propeller, the other curve being comparatively small. the flying-fish in the red sea have been described too often for it to be necessary for me to say anything about the beauty of these fishy swallows, but we saw hundreds of them dart out of the sea, skim along for a distance, and then drop in again. then there were glimpses had in the deep clear blue--for that was the colour i found the red sea--of fishes with scales of orange, vermilion, and gold, bright as the gorgeous sunsets that dyed sea and sky of such wondrous hues evening after evening before darkness fell all at once, and the great stars, brighter, bigger, and clearer than i had ever seen them before, turned the heavens into a vast ocean of gems. day and night seemed to me to follow one another with wonderful rapidity, till one morning, as the steamer was panting and throbbing on its way, my uncle pointed to what looked like a low distant haze far away on our right. "do you see those mountains, nat?" he said. "mountains, uncle! are these mountains?" "yes, my boy, in a land that i could find it in my heart to visit, only that is not quite wild enough for our purpose." "what place is it, then?" i said, gazing eagerly at the faint distant line. "sumatra, nat;" and as he spoke the long-shaped island, so familiar on the maps at school, rose before my eyes, and with it came java, celebes, borneo, and new guinea, places that were before long to be the objects of our quest. chapter seventeen. the malay kris in strange lands. three days later we were lying in singapore harbour, and i had one or two runs ashore to have a good look at the town, with its busy port full of all kinds of vessels, from the huge black-sided steamer and trim east indiaman, to the clumsy high-sterned, mat-sailed, chinese junk, and long narrow malay prahu. i could have stayed there a month staring about me at the varied scenes in the bright sunshine, where hundreds of chinamen in their blue cotton loose clothes and thick-soled shoes were mingled with dark-looking hindoostanees, cingalese, and thick-lipped, flat-nosed, fierce-looking malays, every man in a gay silk or cotton sarong or kilt, made in plaids of many colours and with the awkward-looking, dangerous kris stuck at the waist. i say i could have stopped here for a month, enjoying the change, and wondering why the malays should be so constantly chewing betel-nut and pepper leaves. i learned, too, that there was much to be seen in the island, and that there were tigers in the jungle near the plantations; but my uncle said there was no time to waste, and we must get on. "we don't want civilisation, nat, or the works of man; we want to go far away into the wilds." "but don't you mean to go to malacca, uncle?" i said. "that is where so many birds come from." "i did think of going there, nat; but i want to get to less-frequented spots, and i have found to-day a great prahu that is going right away to the ke islands, which will be well on our route to aru and new guinea. the malay captain says he will take us, and tow our boat behind." "our boat, uncle?" "yes, nat; while you have been staring about at the heathen i have been busy looking out for a boat, and i have found one that i think will do. come and see." i went with him to a creek outside the busiest part of the town, where the principal part of the people seemed to be fishermen, and here, after threading our way amongst dozens of clumsy-looking boats, my uncle showed me one that i should have thought would be the last to suit us. "why, you don't admire my choice, nat!" he said smiling. "it is such a common-looking thing, and it isn't painted," i replied. "no, my boy, but it is well varnished with native resin. it is malay built, very strong, and the mast and sails are well-made, though rough; better still, it will carry us, and a man or two for crew if we like, and give plenty of room for our treasures as well." "but it is differently rigged to the boats on the thames, uncle," i said disparagingly. "naturally, my boy," he said laughing; "but the sails will require the same management." "and what an anchor, uncle!" i said. "why, it is made of bamboo and a stone." "we can easily buy a small grapnel and some cord, nat," he said smiling; "and when you have found out how our boat will sail, you will think better of it, i am sure." on the following day but one we were on board the prahu surrounded by fierce-looking malays, every man being armed with his kris, and looking as bloodthirsty a lot as i thought i had ever seen. our boat was towing behind as the men used long oars to get us out of the port, and then the great matting sails were hoisted, and we began to go swiftly through the surging sea. "there, nat," said my uncle gleefully, "good-bye to civilisation, for we are fairly off. how do you feel now?" "i was thinking, uncle, suppose that, now they have us safely on board, and away from all help--" "they were suddenly to rise up, draw their knives, which are said to be poisoned, nat." "yes, uncle, and stab us." "rob us," he said laughing. "and throw us overboard, uncle." "ah! nat; suppose they did. what would uncle joe say?" "it would kill him, uncle," i said, with tears in my eyes. "and aunt sophy?" he said. "well, i don't know about aunt sophy," i replied; "but i hope she would be very sorry." "ah! well, you needn't be nervous, nat, for i don't think the malays are such bloodthirsty fellows as people say; and our captain here, in spite of his fierce aspect, is very gentlemanly and pleasant." i could not help looking at our captain, whom uncle dick called gentlemanly, for to my eyes he seemed to be a fierce savage, with his scarlet kerchief bound round his head, beneath which his dark eyes seemed to flash angrily. "shall you keep your loaded gun with you always, uncle, while we are with these people?" i said. "no, my boy, certainly not," he replied; "and you may take it for granted, nat, that even the most savage people are as a rule inoffensive and ready to welcome a white man as a friend, except where they have been ill-treated by their civilised visitors. as for the malays, i have met several travellers who have been amongst then and they all join in saying that they are a quiet superior race of people, with whom you may be perfectly safe, and who are pleased to be looked upon as friends." "but i thought, uncle," i said, "that they were very dangerous, and that those krises they wore were poisoned?" "travellers' tales, my boy. the kris is the malay's national weapon that everyone wears. why, nat, it is not so very long since every english gentleman wore a sword, and we were not considered savages." we had rather a long and tiresome voyage, for the prahu, though light and large, did not prove a very good sea-boat. when the wind was fair, and its great sail spread, we went along swiftly, and we were seldom for long out of sight of land, coasting, as we did, by the many islands scattered about the equator; but it was through seas intersected by endless cross currents and eddies, which seemed to seize upon the great prahu when the wind died down, and often took us so far out of our course one day, that sometimes it took the whole of the next to recover what we had lost. so far, in spite of the novelty of many of the sights we had seen, i had met with nothing like that which i had pictured in my boyish dreams of wondrous foreign lands. the sea was very lovely, so was the sky at sunrise and sunset; but where we had touched upon land it was at ports swarming with shipping and sailors of all nations. i wanted to see beautiful islands, great forests and mountains, the home of strange beasts and birds of rare plumage, and to such a place as this it seemed as if we should never come. i said so to uncle dick one day as we sat together during a calm, trying to catch a few fish to make a change in our food. "wait a bit, nat," he said smiling. "yes, uncle, but shall we see wonderful lands such as i should like?" "you'll see no wonderful lands with giants' castles, and dwarfs and fairies in, nat," he replied smiling; "but before long i have no doubt that i shall be able to show you beauties of nature glorious enough to satisfy the most greedy imagination." "oh! of course i did not expect to see any of the nonsense we read of in books, uncle," i said; "only we have been away from home now three months, and we have not got a single specimen as yet, and i want to begin." "patience, my boy, patience," he said. "i am coming all this distance so as to get to quite new ground. so far we have not landed on a tropic island, for i shall not count civilised singapore; but very soon we shall take to our own boat and coast along here and there, landing where we please, and you shall have nature's wonders and natural history to your heart's content. look there," he said softly; "there is a beginning for you. do you see that?" he pointed down into the gloriously blue clear water, illumined by the sunshine, which made it flash wherever there was the slightest ripple. "yes, i can see some lovely little fish, uncle," i said. "why, they are all striped like perch. there's one all blue and scarlet. oh! i wish i could catch him." "no, no; farther down there, where those pink weeds are waving on that deep-brown mass of coral. what's that?" "why, it's a great eel, uncle. what a length! and how thin! how it is winding in and out amongst the weed! is it an eel?" "no, nat; it is a snake--a sea-snake; and there is another, and another. they are very dangerous too." "are they poisonous, then?" i said. "extremely. their bite is often fatal, nat, so beware of them if ever you see one caught." we had a fine opportunity for watching the movements of these snakes, for several came into sight, passing through the water in that peculiar waving manner that is seen in an eel; but a breeze springing up soon after, the sail filled out, and once more we glided rapidly over the beautiful sea. i call it beautiful sea, for those who have merely looked upon the ocean from our own coasts have no conception of the grandeur of the tropic seas amongst the many islands of the eastern archipelago, where the water is as bright as lapis lazuli, as clear as crystal, and the powerful sun lights up its depths, and displays beauties of submarine growth at which the eye never tires of gazing. it used to worry me sometimes that we had not longer calms to enable me to get down into the little boat and lie flat, with my face as close to the water as i could place it, looking into what was to me a new world, full of gorgeous corals and other zoophytes, some motionless, others all in action. scarlet, purple, blue, yellow, crimson, and rich ruddy brown, they looked to me like flowers amongst the singular waving weeds that rose from the rocks below. here fishes as brilliant in colours, but more curious in shape, than the pets of our glass globes at home, sailed in and out, chasing the insects or one another, their scales flashing every now and then as they turned on one side or dashed up towards the surface and leaped clean out of the water. in some places the sand was of a beautiful creamy white and as pure as could be, uncle dick saying that it was formed out of the corals which were being constantly pounded up by the waves. but whenever the breeze rose i had to be quickly on board again, and on we sailed till, after a long dreamy voyage, we came one morning in sight of some mountains; and as we drew nearer i could see that the rocks rose straight up from the sea, which, calm as it was, sent up columns of spray where the waves broke upon the solid stone. "there, nat," said my uncle, "that is our present destination." "what! that rocky place, uncle?" i said, with a tone of disappointment in my voice. "yes, my quick young judge," he said laughing. "wait till we get closer in," he continued, using his glass; "or no, you can see now; look, nat." he handed me the glass, and as i looked through, my heart seemed to give a great throb, for the lovely picture i gazed upon seemed to more than realise my dreams. for what at a distance looked to be a sunlit rocky shore, proved through the glass to be a land with lovely shaped trees growing to the edges of the cliffs, which were covered with wonderful shrubs and creepers. even the rocks looked to be of beautiful colours, and every here and there i could see lovely little bays and nooks, edged with glistening white sand, upon which the crystal water played, sparkling like diamonds and sapphires in the sun. "oh, uncle!" i cried. "well, nat, will that place do for a beginning?" "how soon can we get ashore?" i cried excitedly in answer. "in a couple of hours, now, nat; but i said will this place do?" "oh, uncle!" i cried, "it was worth coming all the way to see. i could wander about there for months. shall i get the guns out of the cases?" "gently, gently," he said laughing; "let's get into harbour first." chapter eighteen. i find the black ways strange. we were not very long in getting to the harbour, a snug landlocked cove where the great prahu in which we had come could lie well protected from the rollers. our passage in was made easy, as the great sails were lowered by the men in a couple of canoes, who paddled out, shouting and singing, and splashing the water; and then, after ropes had been made fast to their sterns, they paddled away again, drawing us steadily inshore. i began to wonder directly whether these would be anything like the savages who came to robinson crusoe's island; but a moment's reflection told me that juan fernandez was supposed to be his island, and that was on the other side of the world. "well, nat, what do you think of our visitors?" said my uncle, as i leaned over the prow of our vessel and watched the men in the canoe. "i was thinking, uncle, that it can't cost them much for clothes," i said, laughing. "no, nat," he replied, joining in my mirth; "but do you see how different they are to our sailors here?" "yes, they are blacker, uncle, and have different shaped noses, and their hair curls instead of being straight." "good!" he exclaimed; "that's the way to become a naturalist. observe everything. you are quite right; we are going to leave one race of men now, nat, the malays, to travel amongst the papuans, a people who are wonderfully different in every way." i felt a little nervous at first on going ashore, for we were surrounded by quite a crowd of fierce-looking blacks, all chattering, gesticulating, and pressing on us in their eagerness to get close up, but i soon found that it was only excitement and delight at seeing us among them, and that they wanted to barter ornaments and shells, for tobacco and sugar, or knives. they were just like children, and though, had they been so disposed, they could have overpowered us and taken possession of everything we possessed in an instant, nothing seemed farther from their thoughts. the captain of the prahu came ashore with us, and we explained to one of the chief men that we wanted to have a hut on shore and stay with them for a time, and his countenance expanded into a broad grin of pleasure, one which seemed to increase as we both shook hands with him, and uncle gave him a handful of tobacco, and i a small common one-bladed knife. he looked at both in turn, and then seemed puzzled as to what he ought to give us in exchange, while, when he was made to understand that they were presents and nothing was wanted back, he attached himself to us, and very soon we found ourselves the possessors of a very dark, little well-thatched hut, with no windows, and nothing to close the door, but it answered our purpose in giving us shelter, and to it the chief willingly helped with a couple of dozen of his men, in getting our chests, boxes, and stores. the next thing was to find a place for our boat, which was towed ashore behind a canoe; and on the chief understanding the want, he very soon pointed out to us a shady nook where it could be run ashore and beached in safety, away from the waves, he helping himself to make the rope fast to a large cocoa-nut tree. this done, the chief walked, or rather strutted, round our boat, and looked under it, over it, and about it in all directions, making grimaces expressive of his disgust, and ending by kicking its sides and making derisive gestures, to show that he thought it a very poor boat indeed. the prahu was going away the next day, so a busy scene of trading went on till night, when the captain sought us out, and in his broken english enquired very earnestly whether we had landed everything, including sundry stores which my uncle dick had purchased of the scotch merchants at singapore, they being able to tell him what was most likely to find favour amongst the savages with whom we should have to deal. in answer to a question, the malay captain assured us that we might feel quite safe amongst the ke islanders, and also with those in the aru and neighbouring isles; but he said that he would not trust the men of new guinea, unless it was in a place where they had never seen white men before. he promised to be on the look-out for us as he was trading to and fro during the next year or two, for my uncle assured him that we should be about that time among the islands, and with the promise to meet us here in a year's time if we did not meet before, and to come from singapore provided with plenty of powder and shot for our use, and ready to take back any cases of specimens we might have ready, he parted from us with the grave courtesy of a mohammedan gentleman. the next time we saw him was in the morning, as he waved his scarlet headkerchief to us from the deck of his prahu, which was floating away on the current, there being barely wind enough to fill the sails. some very beautifully shaped canoes filled with the naked black islanders paddled out for some little distance beside the prahu, singing and shouting, and splashing the sea into foam with their paddles, making it sparkle like diamonds in the glorious morning sunshine. but after a while my uncle and i, in spite of the delightful sensation of being ashore in such a glorious climate, began to feel so very human that we set to and made a fire; then i fetched water from a spring in the rock that ran over in a cascade towards the sea, and after rigging up three pieces of bamboo, gypsy fashion, the kettle soon began to sing, the coffee was measured out, a box dragged outside the hut door to act as a table, and just as the canoes approached the shore we began upon biscuit, a couple of toasted red herrings, of which we got a couple of boxes at singapore, and what seemed to me the most delicious cup of coffee i had ever tasted. "there," uncle said to me at last, "we are regularly launched now, nat. those malays were not savages, but people of law and order. now we are left alone in the wilds indeed." "yes, uncle, and here come the black fellows," i said with my mouth full of biscuit. in fact, as soon as they had run their beautiful canoes up on to the sands they were starting in a body to come and look at us; but there was a loud shout and some gesticulating, and we saw one tall savage flourishing a spear, when they all went off in other directions, while the savage with the spear came sidling towards us in a slow, awkward way, keeping his face turned in the opposite direction, but gradually coming nearer. "i hope he does not mean to throw that spear at us, nat," said my uncle. "where did the others go?" "they seemed to go into the woods there," i said. "humph! and they might get round to the back of our hut," said my uncle, looking rather uneasy. "but we will not show any distrust. have you recognised that chief this morning?" "i think this is he, uncle," i said, "but i can't see his face." "well, we will soon see," said my uncle, as we went on with our breakfast, and kept on watching the black till he came about fifty yards away, apparently searching for something amongst the shrubs and plants with the handle of his spear. "shout at him, nat," said my uncle. "eh?" the savage must have seen us from the first, but he looked up, then down, then turned himself and _gazed_ in every direction but that in which we were; and i shouted again, but still he would not look our way. "he is shamming, nat, like a very bashful boy," said uncle dick. "he wants us to ask him to breakfast. hallo! get my rifle, nat; i can see a lot of heads in the trees there. no, sit still; they are only boys." the savage evidently saw them at the same moment, for he made a rush towards the dark figures that were stealing from tree trunk to tree trunk, and we saw them dash away directly out of sight, after which the savage came sidling in our direction again. "hi!" i shouted, as the childish pantomime went on, and the savage stared in all directions as if wonder-stricken at a strange noise coming he knew not whence, and ending by kneeling down and laying his ear to the ground. "hi!" i shouted again; but it was of no use, he could not possibly see either us, our chest, our fire, or the hut, but kept sidling along, staring in every direction but the right. "go and fetch him, nat, while i toast another bloater. we'll give him some breakfast, and it will make him friendly." i got up and went off, wondering what uncle joe and aunt sophia would have said to see me going to speak to that great spear-armed savage, and for a moment i wondered what would happen if he attacked me. "uncle dick would shoot him dead with his rifle," i said to myself by way of comfort, and i walked boldly on. still he would not see me, but kept sidling on till i got close up to him and gave him a smart spank on his naked shoulder. in an instant he had spun round, leaped to a couple of yards away, and poised his spear as if to hurl. then, acting his astonishment with great cleverness, his angry countenance broke up into a broad smile, he placed his spear into the hollow of his left arm, and stepped forward to shake hands, chattering away eagerly, though i could not understand a word. "come and have some breakfast," i said, and he chattered again. "come and have some breakfast," i shouted; and then to myself: "how stupid i am! he can't understand." so i took him by the arm, and pointed towards where my uncle was watching us with his rifle leaning against the table; and i knew that he must have been looking after my safety. the savage stared here and there and everywhere, but he could not see my uncle till i dragged him half-way to the fire and pointed again, when he uttered a shout of surprise, as much as to say, "well, who would have thought of seeing him there!" he then walked up with me, grinning pleasantly, shook hands, and looked astonished as we pointed to the ground for him to sit down. he seated himself though, at last, after sticking his spear in the sandy earth, and then watched us both as i spread some salt butter out of a pot on a piece of biscuit, and then handed him over some hot coffee, which i made very sweet, while my uncle, after shaking hands, had gone on toasting the bloater upon a stick of bamboo. "don't give him the coffee too hot, nat," said my uncle. "there, that's done, i think." "i could drink it myself, uncle," i replied, and we placed the food before our guest, pointing to it, but he kept on shaking his head, and put his hands behind him. "perhaps he thinks it is not good, uncle," i said, after we had several times partaken of our own to set him an example. "or that it is poisoned," said my uncle. "taste it to show him it is good, nat." i took up the tin mug of coffee and tasted it twice, then broke a piece off the biscuit, put a little of the herring upon it, and ate it, the savage watching me closely the while. then his face broke into a broad smile once more, and he made believe to have suddenly comprehended that the food was meant for him, for, taking a good draught of the coffee, he leaped up, tossing his arms on high, and danced round us, shouting with delight for quite a minute before he reseated himself, and ate his breakfast, a good hearty one too, chattering all the while, and not troubling himself in the least that we could not understand a word. "i'm sorry about one thing, nat," my uncle said. "he would not eat that food because he was afraid that it was poisoned." "well, wasn't that right of him, uncle?" i said, "as we are quite strangers." "yes, my boy; but it teaches us that he knows what poison is, and that these savages may make use of it at times." our black guest looked at us intently whenever we spoke, and seemed to be trying to comprehend what we said, but began to laugh again as soon as he saw that we observed him, ending by jumping up and shaking hands again, and pointing to the rifle, seizing his spear, holding it up to his shoulder, and then making a very good imitation of the report with his mouth. he then pointed to a bird flying at a distance, and laughed and nodded his head several times. "that relieves us of a little difficulty, nat," said my uncle. "the malay captain seems to have told him why we have come; but there is another difficulty still, and that is about leaving our stores." "it seems to me, uncle, that what we ought to do first is to learn the language." "yes, nat, and we must. it would be more useful to us now than your latin and french." "yes, uncle, and we shall have to learn it without books. hallo! what's he going to do?" chapter nineteen. our very black friend. the reason for my exclamation was that our visitor suddenly began to drag the chest we had used for a table into the hut, and after this he carried in the kettle, and two or three other things that we had had out, the rifle included; after which, as we watched him, he patted us both on the chest to call our attention to what he was going to do, and, picking up his spear, he thrust it down into the ground close up to the doorway, its point standing up above the thatch. "what does he mean by that, uncle?" i asked. "i think i know, nat," he replied; "but wait a minute. this fellow is no fool." for after calling our attention to what he was going to do, he ran off into the jungle; and as we watched the spot where he had disappeared, he peered at us from behind a tree trunk, then from another, and another, popping up in all sorts of out-of-the-way places where we least expected to see him, and then suddenly creeping out on hands and knees from among some bushes, raising his head every now and then as if looking to see if he was watched, and again crawling on towards the hut. just in the midst of the pantomime he became aware of what we had seen before, about a dozen boys coming cautiously through the forest, when, jumping up in a rage, he dashed at them, and they disappeared, he after them, to come back panting and continue his performance, hiding and creeping out again, and going nearer and nearer to the hut. "i say, uncle, isn't this all nonsense?" i said. "no, my boy. he can't talk to us to make us understand, so he is trying to show us something by signs." as he spoke the black crept on and on, rising to his knees and peering round to see if he was watched, and at last, having arrived within half a dozen yards of the hut, he rose and made a dash for the door, making believe to see the spear, stuck up there like a sentry, for the first time, and then stopping short, uttering a howl of dread, and shivering all over as he crept crouching away, holding out his hands behind him as if to ward off a blow. then suddenly springing up, he ceased acting, looked at us, and laughed. "why, what does he mean, uncle?" i said. "i know," said uncle dick quickly; and pointing to some of the savages down on the shore he went up to the door of the hut, and made as if to go in, but stopped and pointed again to the savages at a distance. the black nodded and laughed, danced about with delight, and then pointing to the savages himself he ran to the door, and came shivering and crouching away once more as if too much alarmed to go in. "it is all right, nat," said my uncle; "he is evidently a chief, and he means that no one will dare go into the hut while his spear is stuck there. we have made a friend." all this time the savage was looking sharply from one to the other, as if to make sure that we comprehended him; and then, seeing that we did, he made signs for us to follow him, talking excitedly the while. we walked with him to a grove of cocoa-nut trees, passing a number of the people as we passed through, but no one attempted to follow us; and after about a quarter of an hour's walk he led us to a roughly-built palm-thatched shed, where we could hear the sounds of chopping and hammering, and on entering we found, to our surprise, that the shed was far larger than we had expected, and that in it were four men busy at work making a boat similar to one that lay there evidently but lately built. our new friend pointed to the finished boat, and we looked it over at once to find that it was beautifully made and perfect, with its oars, anchor, mast, and sail, and finished with such neatness that i began to wonder what tools the man must use, while my wonder was increased upon my uncle pointing out to me the fact that there was not a single nail in the whole boat, which was entirely put together by means of wooden pegs, and fastened with thin bands of rattan cane. the black noticed our appreciation of the boat, and had we felt any doubt before of his power, it was silenced at once, for, giving his orders, the boat was half carried, half run down over the soft sand out into the pure blue water, when he signed to us to enter, leaped in afterwards, and we were run right out by the men. the breeze was light, but strong enough for the boat, and the sail being hoisted, away we went upon the long rollers, rising and falling so easily that i could not help thinking how clever these islanders must be. "why, nat," said my uncle, "we ought to have waited until we came here, for this boat is worth a dozen of the one i bought. it is so light and buoyant, and suited to the seas we are on. it will hold quite as much as our own, and be stronger and far easier to manage." all this time the black was watching him intently, striving to understand his words, but shaking his head in a disappointed manner from time to time. we had a fair trial of the boat, and became each minute better satisfied. sometimes my uncle steered, sometimes i, and always to find that the light vessel went over the roughest rollers like a cork, and without shipping a drop of water. my uncle managed as well that we should run along the coast, so as to see something of the country, with the result that i grew quite excited by my desire to land and see some of the wonders of the place; and at last the boat's head was put about and we ran back. now, however, the black chief took the rudder in hand, and ran us ashore on the top of a great roller, which left us high and dry upon the soft white sand, our companion jumping out and pulling us beyond reach of the next wave with the greatest ease. the spot he had chosen was close to the boat we had brought from singapore, up to which our companion had walked, kicking it with a look of contempt; and i must say that i could not help feeling ashamed of the rough, common, clumsy-looking thing, after our ride in that from which we had just disembarked. just then our companion shouted, and half a dozen blacks came racing and clattering to our side, taking charge of the boat, while we walked up to the hut, not without some misgivings as to the state of its contents. it was quite evident, though, that no one had been near it, and our companion, with a look of consequence that was very comical in a naked savage, took up his spear and stood aside while we entered and obtained our guns and ammunition. at this, however, he made signs indicative of his displeasure, shaking his head and pointing to the boat and then to our stores. "i shall have to trade for the boat," said my uncle; "and to tell the truth, nat, i don't feel at all unwilling." so setting to, there was a long pantomime scene, in which my uncle offered the black chief our heavy, clumsy boat for the new, light, canoe-like vessel we had tried. the offer was refused with a show of disgust, but not so great as i expected; for, as i afterwards found, there were iron and copper fittings in our boat that were looked upon by the islanders as a great acquisition. so then my uncle proceeded to lay in the boat a bit at a time the additions that he would give in exchange, his offerings consisting of showy cloth, brass wire, and axes, till the chief was satisfied and the boat was our own, after which he made signs for us to get our guns, and we started inland for our first shooting expedition, i with my pulses throbbing, and every nerve in a state of tension as i wondered what would be the first gloriously feathered trophy that i should secure. chapter twenty. amongst nature's treasures. it was a land of marvels to me, as now for the first time i saw in all their beauty the tall cocoa-nut trees and other palms, like vast ferns, towering up on their column-like stems and spreading their enormous feathery leaves so gracefully towards the earth. then after a few steps we came upon bananas, with their long ragged leaves and mighty clusters of curiously-shaped fruit, with hundreds of other trees, such as i had never even heard of before, and among which, every now and then, we heard the sharp harsh cry of some bird of the parrot tribe. these cries set us both on the _qui vive_, but though we walked for some little distance we did not obtain a shot nor see a single bird, but we found that there was plenty of forest land full of vast trees with here and there patches of beautiful undergrowth, so that, as uncle dick said, it was only a matter of time. "i feel as excited over it, nat, as you seem to be, my boy; for it is intensely interesting always to me, this search for unknown birds. what's that?" we stopped to listen, but could not make out what the noise was that kept falling upon our ears. it was a kind of soft pleasant croak, ending in a kind of deep hum, sometimes coming from one direction, sometimes from another. "it can't be a bull-frog, nat, for we are not near any marsh or water as far as i can see." "are there tree bull-frogs, uncle?" i said, "because that noise comes out of one of the tall trees. oh! look, there's a big bird," i cried, and raising my gun i took quick aim and fired, when far above us there was a heavy flapping noise of wings amongst the trees, and then silence. "a miss, or a hit too weak to bring him down, nat," said my uncle smiling. "better luck next time. load again, my boy." i hastily reloaded, and we went on again, rising higher and higher over very difficult ground; and then we entered another grove of high trees and heard the same soft croaking noise as before. "pigeons, nat, without doubt," said my uncle. "no other birds, i think, would have made that curious flapping of the wings." "but that bird i shot at was too big for a pigeon, uncle," i replied. "you'll find pigeons out here, nat, four times as big as you have seen at home. look, my boy, on the top branches of that great tree there is quite a cluster of them. steal up softly; you round that way, i will go this. we shall one of us get a shot, i dare say." i made a little circuit in obedience to my uncle's orders, and we crept up softly towards where a huge tree rose like a pillar to a tremendous height before sending out a branch, and there, just dimly seen in the soft twilight beneath the canopy of leaves, were several huge birds, which took flight with a great rattle of wings as we came near. there was the quick report of my uncle's gun, closely followed by mine, and one bird fell heavily to the ground, the others disappearing from view beyond the trees; but just then our companion uttered a shout and dashed on ahead, to return in a few minutes with a second bird which his quick eyes had detected as wounded, and he had seen it drop into a tree some distance off, and then fall, to lead him a long chase before he secured it and brought it back. meanwhile we were both kneeling beside the first, which had fallen in a patch of open ground where the sun came down, and i shall never forget the delight with which i gazed at its wonderfully beautiful plumage. "a pigeon, you see, nat," said my uncle; "and a fine one too." "is that a pigeon, uncle?" i said wonderingly. "to be sure it is, my boy, and--" _crack_! "that was a thrush, if i am not mistaken." i ran and picked up a bird that he shot in the middle of his speech, as it flew over some low bushes, and brought it back in triumph. "no, uncle, it is not a thrush," i cried. "it is a lovely blue and grey bird." "what is it, then, nat?" he said, smiling. "have you forgotten all i told you about the representatives of our home birds being bright in colour?" "but i did not think a thrush could be all of a lovely pale blue, uncle," i said; "and i never saw such a pigeon as that. why, its back and wings are almost as green as those cuckoos--the trogons--and what beautiful feet and eyes! oh! uncle," i said, "i am glad we came." he smiled as he knelt down and carefully smoothed the feathers of the great pigeon, thrusting a little cotton-wool into its beak to soak up any moisture that might escape and damage the feathers. "we shall, i believe, find plenty of magnificent pigeons out here, nat," he said, as i eagerly watched his acts, so as to know what to do next time. "but i never expected to find pigeons, uncle, with gold and violet reflections on their feathers." "why not, nat," he replied laughing, "when in dull, foggy old england, where there is so little sunshine, the pigeons and doves have beautiful iris-like reflections on their necks and breasts? now for the thrush. there, nat, that is a beauty. i should have felt that i had done a good day's work if i had only secured that dainty prize with its delicately harmonious coat of soft grey and blue." "and it is a thrush, uncle?" "certainly. look at the beak. this is one of the pittas or ground-thrushes, nat, of which there are a good many out in these islands. some of them are, i believe, much more brightly coloured than this; but bright plumage is not all we want, my boy; it is new specimens, nat. we must be discoverers as well as collectors." by this time the lovely thrush was hung with the two pigeons carefully by the beaks to a long bamboo, and after we had explained to our black companion, by means of a little dumb-show, that he must carry the bamboo carefully, a task which, after a few skips and bounds to show his delight, he undertook to perform. we went on again, trusting to him to find the way back through the wilderness of great tree trunks, some of which rose, without a branch, to a vast height above our heads, but only to make up for it afterwards, for the branches then clustered so thickly that all the sunshine was shut out, and we walked in the deep shadow, save where here and there we found an opening which looked quite dazzling by contrast. here it was that we found flowers growing, and saw traces enough of insects to make us determine to bring collecting-boxes another time, on purpose to obtain the glorious beetles and butterflies that we saw here and there. "look, uncle," i cried; "there's another, and another. oh, if i had my butterfly-net!" for i kept seeing beetles of dazzling lustre, and butterflies marked with such brilliant colours, that i was ready to throw down my gun and rush off in chase. "yes, this is a better collecting ground than clapham common, nat," said my uncle. "we ought to have plenty of pinning out to do to-morrow night. to-day i hope to be busy enough making skins. hist! look at the black." i had just time to save the bamboo with the birds from being thrown down upon the ground by our companion, who went upon hands and knees, and crawled forward a short distance to the shelter of some bushes at the edge of a bright opening, where the sun poured down like showers of silver light. "he has found something," i whispered. "then you run forward, nat, and see. be cool, and take a good quick aim. i'll mind the birds." he took the bamboo, and i ran forward to where the black was waving me on; but went more cautiously as i drew nearer, and a few moments later i was crouching in the shadow of the bushes at the edge of the opening, watching the objects at which the black was pointing. i knew by means of my ears what birds he had found, before i caught sight of them, for every now and then a harsh shrill scream was uttered, and before long i could see across the opening quite a little flock of beautiful scarlet lories busily feeding on the clustering fruit of a tall forest tree, which, being close to the sunny opening, was covered with leaves and twigs, from the top to the very ground. i was so utterly taken up by the beauty of the sight that i forgot all about my gun, but knelt there watching the lovely little long-tailed birds, climbing by the help of their beaks, in and out amongst the branches, sometimes hanging by their strong curved bills, sometimes head downwards by one or both legs, and always busily hunting for food. i had seen stuffed specimens before, but they seemed so poor and common-looking beside the velvety softness and brilliant colouring of these smooth-feathered, lively, rounded birds, and i kept on enjoying the sight to so great an extent that i am sure the flock would have escaped had not my black companion shook my arm violently, and pointed to my gun, when, recalling the object of my journey, i raised it, took careful aim, and fired. there was a shrill cry from the birds, and the flock took flight, but not until i had managed to get another shot, the result being that i secured three very beautiful specimens to take back to my uncle, showing them to him with a glow of pride. "i want to be of some use, uncle," i said, for i had been afraid that he would think i could not shoot. "use, nat! why, you shot one of those pigeons this morning." "did i, uncle?" i said. "to be sure, my boy. at all events i did not, so it must have been you." he was delighted with the three specimens i had secured, and saying that these would be as many as he could comfortably preserve that day, we went on exploring more than collecting, in what was to me quite a fairyland of wonders. perhaps long confinement on shipboard had something to do with it; but all the same, every place we came to had its beauties of some kind or another. now it was a noisy stream leaping from the rocks in a feathery cascade; at another time, a grove full of curious orchids. every now and then some lovely butterfly would start from flower or damp spot in the openings, but it was of no use to chase them then, my uncle said, for we had no means of preserving them. "let's collect, nat," he said, "and make a splendid set of cases of birds and insects; but let's have no wanton destruction. i hate to see birds shot except for a purpose." "we shall have to look out, uncle," i said, laughing, "for it is hard enough work to walk on this ground; i don't know how we shall run." in fact, when we got back to our hut, after shooting a couple more pigeons, our shoes were showing already how sharp the rocks were that formed a great part of the ground over which we tramped. i almost wondered at my uncle shooting two more pigeons, as we had already a couple, but i found out the reason when we reached home, as we called it, to find that everything was in its place; no one apparently having entered the hut, from which our black guide now took his spear, and without another word hurried away. chapter twenty one. feeding in the wilderness. "i hope master ebony is not offended," said my uncle, wiping his face. "perhaps it is only his way. now, nat, get some sticks and make a good fire, while i lay the cloth and cook. that's the evil of being alone, we have to prepare and cook for ourselves; but we'll have a treat to-day." i soon had a fire burning, and then watched uncle dick as with sharp knife and clever fingers he quickly skinned the four pigeons, placing their skins where they would not dry, and then busying himself over the birds. "won't you have some dinner first, uncle?" i said, for i was terribly hungry. "first? no, my boy, not till we have cooked it. you don't want to eat your birds raw, do you?" "what! are you going to eat those--those--" "pigeons?" he said, as i hesitated. "to be sure, nat; why not? do you suppose that because birds have bright feathers they are not good to eat?" "well, no, uncle," i replied, as i thought of pheasants, and that at one time people used to eat the peacock; "but these birds have green feathers." it was a very stupid remark, but it seemed the only thing i could then say. "ah! they'll be none the worse for that, my boy," he said, laughing, as he removed the birds' crops on to a great leaf which i held for him. "we'll examine those after dinner, nat, so as to see on what the birds feed. if i'm not mistaken they eat the large fruit of the nutmeg for one thing." "then they ought to taste of spice, uncle," i said, laughing. "wait a bit, nat, and you'll see how good these fruit-pigeons are. now, cut with that great jack-knife of yours a good sharp pair of bamboo skewers, or spits, and we'll soon have the rascals roasting. we can't eat the insects, but we can the birds, and a great treat they will be after so much shipboard food." "that they will be, uncle," i said, as the pigeons, each quite double or three times the size of one of our home birds, were stuck before the fire, and began to send out a nice appetising smell. "then you won't be too prejudiced to eat them?" he said, laughing. "oh, uncle!" i said, "i'm so hungry i could eat anything now." "well done, nat. well, my boy, as long as we get plenty of specimens to skin we sha'n't starve. turn that skewer round. that's right; stick it tightly into the sand, and now let's have on a little more wood. pick up those old cocoa-nut shells and husks, and put on, nat." "will they burn well?" i said. "i was afraid of putting out the fire." "splendidly, my boy. the shells are full of oil, and will send out a capital heat." we were obliged to nibble a biscuit while we waited, and anxiously watched the frizzling and browning birds, for we were terribly hungry. "i hope they won't be long, uncle," i said. "so do i, nat," he replied; "but what a splendid dining-room we have got out here! isn't it lovely, my boy, under this blue sky and shading trees?" "hundreds of times better than going to a picnic at bushey park, uncle," i said. "but you talked of eating the birds we shot. thrushes would be good, wouldn't they?" "delicious, nat, only so very small." "but you wouldn't eat parrots, uncle, lories, and paroquets, and these sort of birds?" "why not?" he replied, turning his skewer, while i imitated him, it seeming to be settled that we were each to have a couple of pigeons for our dinner. "i don't know why not, uncle," i said thoughtfully, "only it seems so queer to eat a poll parrot;" and as i spoke i could not help thinking of poor humpty dumpty, and all the trouble i had had. "it seems queer," i said again. "but why does it seem queer, nat?" he said, smiling. "come, my boy, you must throw aside prejudices." "well, you see, uncle, they have got such hooked beaks," i said, in a helpless sort of way. "ha! ha! ha!" he laughed. "why, what a reason, nat! i might as well say i would not eat snipe, or woodcock, because it has such a long straight beak. turn your skewer, nat. they are beginning to smell maddeningly nice. they're as fat as butter. nothing like a walk such as ours to give you an appetite. there, take the big tin and go and fill it with adam's ale." i ran to the rock pool and filled the tin with the cool clear water, and came back to the fire. "they'll soon be done, nat," said my uncle. "yes, my boy, i should eat parrots, and shall eat a good many, i hope. why, look here, nat, what do parrots eat?" "sop and seed and sugar," i said. "yes, when they are shut up in a cage at home, nat; but fruit, my boy, in their native state. there, you may take that as a rule, that all birds that live on seed or fruit are good for food." "and those that live on prey, uncle, are bad," i said. "well, no; that won't do, nat. parrots are delicious. i've eaten dozens. and so are some birds that live on small prey--ducks and geese, for instance, eat a great many live things; and the birds that live on insects are, some of them, very good. i think we may say birds of light diet are all good, and draw the line at all carrion or raptorial birds. i should not like to eat hawk, owl, or anything of the crow family; but there is no knowing, nat, what we might do if half-starved, and that's what i am now. nat, my boy, the birds are done. now for a glorious feast! i'm sure i shall pick the bones of my two." "and i'm sure i shall, uncle. i was never so hungry in my life." "then now to begin, my boy; give me that tin plate and say grace, if we are in the wilds. what's become of all the savages?" "oh, uncle!" i cried, "here comes our guide. he wasn't offended." "thunder!" cried uncle dick, with a comical look of disgust; "he has come back to dinner." "yes, uncle," i groaned, as i looked at the pigeons; "and he has brought two great hungry fellows with him." "fetch the guns, nat," cried my uncle in comical wrath; "let's fight in defence of our prey. no, don't; we must bribe them with biscuits to go." uncle dick looked at me in a miserably resigned way, and it all seemed so droll that these blacks should come up just as we were preparing for such a feast, that i leaned back against the cocoa-nut tree by the fire and laughed till i cried. chapter twenty two. company to dinner. i was wiping the tears from my eyes as mr ebony, as uncle called him, came up, carrying something in a great palm leaf, while his companions had something else in a basket. mr ebony was grinning tremendously. then he said something, and the two others went away, while our black guest, for that he evidently meant to be, sniffed at the pigeons, rubbed himself, and danced with delight. but we had wronged him, for he was not going to behave shabbily, for, taking the basket, he rolled out of it a dozen great fruit, half being cocoa-nuts, the other something nearly as large that i had never seen before. then he nodded and grinned, and had another bit of a dance before unrolling the huge palm leaf, and showing us four good-looking fishes, each twice as big as a large mackerel, and so fresh that one was hardly now dead. mr ebony grinned and danced again, nodding at us both, and saying something in his tongue which sounded to me like, "now we'll have such a jolly tuck-out;" but of course it was not that, though it evidently meant as much. the next minute with wonderful skill our visitor had cut some bamboos with a kind of adze he had in the cord round his waist, slit open and cleaned the fish with a sharp-pointed piece of wood, and then got each one stuck on a piece of bamboo to roast before the fire. he was like a man on springs; he did things so jerkily and quick, jumping up and rushing off, to come back laden with wood for the fire, some of which he carefully put on, and then nodded and grinned and rubbed himself. "well, mr ebony," said my uncle, smiling, "you are really not a bad fellow after all; and as you have come to dinner in full dress i am very glad to see you, and let's fall to. by all the rules of etiquette, my dear sir, soup comes first, sir. we have no soup. fish follows next, but, my dear carbonaceous-looking friend, the fish is not done, while the pigeons are, so sit down. nat, my boy, give our honoured guest a tin plate and a biscuit. monsieur ebony--pigeon?" as my uncle spoke he pulled up his bamboo spit, and, taking hold of the sandy end, he presented the other to our visitor, who took hold tightly, watching my uncle the while as he drew his hunting-knife, and, with a dexterous chop, divided the bamboo in two, leaving each with a pigeon. "come, nat, boy, fall to. that other pigeon will have to be divided." then there was silence as i helped myself to the great pigeon, and we began to eat with such a sense of enjoyment as i never felt before; but when my uncle and i were half through our pigeons mr ebony had finished his, and was casting furtive glances at the one still frizzling and browning before the fire in company with the fishes, which our guest carefully turned. "give him the other pigeon, nat," said my uncle, "and we will make up with fish;" so i offered it to our visitor, but he shook his head, and began chattering, pointing to the fish, which he kept turning; and as soon as one was done, looked with a good deal of natural politeness to see if we were ready; but as we were not, he threw his bones over his head--of course i do not mean his own bones, but the bones of the pigeon, which he had crunched up with his white teeth, like a dog, and began at once upon his fish. leaving the fourth pigeon stuck upon the spit, we now in our turn each tried a fish, which uncle dick said were a kind of perch, and very delicious they were, especially with the addition of a little pepper, of which, after the first taste, our visitor showed himself to be very fond; and taken altogether, we made a most delicious repast, without thinking of the dessert which had yet to come. this our visitor commenced after he had eaten a second fish, chattering away to us, and opening the nuts with great skill, giving one to each of us, so that for the first time i tasted what cocoa-nut really was like. not a hard, indigestible, sweet, oily kind of woody kernel fast round the shell, so that it was hard to get it off; but a sweet, soft pulp that we cut and scraped out like cream-cheese, while it had a refreshing slightly acid flavour that was most delicious. i never saw anyone before like our black friend, for no sooner did he see by our looks that we enjoyed his cocoa-nuts than he jumped up and danced, laughing with pleasure, but stopping every now and then to have a taste himself, till we had finished, when he took one of the other great nuts, which i saw were thorny, and marked down the sides with seams, as if ready for opening by means of a knife. "that is not cocoa-nut, is it, uncle?" i said, looking curiously at the great wooden fruit, as the black proceeded to split it open with his hatchet, inserting the blade very cleverly so as to get it open, with the result that a very unpleasant odour arose. "it don't seem to be good, whatever it is," said my uncle. "why, it must be the durian, nat," he said eagerly. "i wanted to see that fruit." "but it does not seem good to eat, uncle," i said, as i looked at the portion given to me, which appeared to be full of a kind of custard with big seeds inside, about as large as a chestnut. "they say it is delicious," he replied, helping himself to a little with the blade of his knife. "taste away." i tasted, and he tasted, the black watching us attentively; and no sooner did he see the face i made than he became tremendously excited, jumping about, making smacking sounds with his lips, and rubbing himself to show how good it was. then, still seeing that we did not get on, he opened another, and taking half began to eat rapidly, dancing about with delight and rolling his eyes, to explain to us that he was having a most delicious feast. "perhaps this is a better one," said my uncle, stretching out his hand for the untouched half, but upon tasting it he did not find it so satisfactory as that which we had, and we made a very poor dessert, as far as the durian was concerned, greatly to our friend's chagrin. the meal being at an end, we each took a hearty draught of the pure water, and offered the tin to our guest, but he shook his head and kept on making signs as he cried out: "rack-rack-rack-rack!" "what does he mean, uncle?" i said. "look, he is pretending to pour something into the water. he means arrack." "yes, and he will not get any, nat--neither arrack nor brandy. those are for medicines, my boy; but go and get one of those small bottles of raspberry vinegar, and i'll give him some of that." the black watched me intently as i fetched the little bottle of rich red syrup, and kept his eyes upon his host, when, after emptying all but about half a pint of water out of the tin, my uncle poured out a table-spoonful of the syrup into the clear water and stirred it up, offering it afterwards to the black, who took it, smelt it suspiciously, and then handed it to me. i drank a portion, and found it so good that i finished it, to our guest's amazement and disgust; but the cup was soon replenished, and now he tasted eagerly, drinking it up, and then indulging in a fresh dance. "now for work," said my uncle. "let's clear away, nat;" and the remains of the dinner having been carried into the tent, the box of requisites was brought out, and with the black squatting down upon his heels to watch us attentively, i helped uncle dick prepare his first skins. chapter twenty three. how to prepare skins, and go fishing. the process was very simple, for he took the thrush and the lories, inserted a sharp-pointed penknife just through the skin, and then with clever fingers turned the delicate skin back, taking care not to injure the feathers either by the moisture of the bird's flesh or by handling and roughening the plumage, the result being that he skilfully turned the skin inside out after cutting through the legs and wings, cleaning the bones of flesh, and leaving in the skull, after stripping the bird right to the beak. it was surprising how beautifully clean everything came away, so that when the fleshy side of the skin had been brushed over with moistened arsenical soap, the wing-bones tied together, the hollow of the skull and orbits of the eyes filled up with cotton-wool, and a ball of the same placed for the body, the skin being turned back over all and slightly shaken, a stranger would hardly have known that the flesh of the bird had been removed. there was no odour except the aromatic scent of the preserving soap; and when a little sugar-paper had been twisted up into which to thrust the bird's head and shoulders to keep the neck short, and the bird had lain in the sun for a few hours, it became quite stiff and dry, exactly like the skins with which i was familiar. uncle dick insisted upon my doing the thrush and one of the lories, while he did the pigeons, whose skins were so tender, and so covered with oily fat, that they required a great deal of care to keep the feathers unsullied. i set to work then, skinning my birds pretty readily from old practice, and after a little bungling i managed to make of them respectable-looking skins. "you'll soon improve, nat," said my uncle, as we laid our specimens all together in the sun, the black nodding his approval at all we did; but the skins had not been lying there long, and our hands washed previous to putting on the kettle for tea, before our new friend jumped up in a great state of excitement, pointing to a reddish-brown streak that seemed to run from the wood nearly to where our specimens lay. "ants!" exclaimed my uncle, darting to the skins, and shaking off a few of the enemies that had come to the attack; and it was not until we had contrived to make a little channel all round one of our boxes upon which the skins were laid, and connected it with the little spring of water, so that our treasure was surrounded by a tiny moat, that we could keep the insects away. our black friend, who was evidently a great chief among his people, made no scruple about stopping to have some tea with us, watching the boiling of the kettle and our preparations with the greatest of curiosity, but always in a calm, composed way. "it is rather a nuisance always having him here, nat," said my uncle; "but we should be bothered with a good many more if he were to go, and really he does not seem a bad sort of fellow." he certainly was not, for though he ate heartily of anything we gave him, he was as generous as could be, going off to return with men laden with fruit, fish, and a kind of sago, which was not at all bad boiled up and sweetened. i missed a good many things such as i had been used to, but so far it all seemed to be glorious fun, and that night i lay down to rest looking through the open doorway at the stars, breathing the soft warm air, and dropping off into a delicious sleep, to dream of home, and uncle joe in his garden, smoking his long clay pipe. i was awakened at daybreak by some one touching me, and on opening my eyes i started with dread as i saw a black face close to my own, and a grinning set of white teeth. i knew directly who it was, though, and getting up i saw that my uncle was still peacefully sleeping off the previous day's fatigue. i was going to rouse him, but mr ebony pulled me by the arm to come without waking him. my next movement was to get my gun; but again our black friend objected, pulling at me half angrily, and i accompanied him outside into the cool grey morning. i hesitated to follow him for a minute, thinking that i ought not to leave my uncle; but i could not help thinking that we were quite helpless amongst these savages if they chose to turn against us, and therefore all we could do was to cultivate their good-will. mr ebony, whose black mop of hair stood out more fiercely than ever, was watching me attentively, scowling fiercely, as i thought; but as soon as i prepared to follow him he began to grin and chatter away to me, keeping on repeating the word "_ikan-ikan_," till we were down in the half darkness by where the waves lapped the sand; and now i saw a good-sized canoe with half a dozen men waiting, all looking, with their paddles in their hands, like so many fierce black executioners, prepared to make an end of me. mr ebony signed to me to get into the boat, and feeling that perhaps they might be going to make a prisoner of me and take me to another island, i asked myself whether i ought not to resist; but seeing how useless it would be, i resigned myself to my fate, jumped into the canoe, mr ebony followed; and with no singing and splashing now, but in utter silence, we pushed off over the grey sea. "where are we going, i wonder?" i said to myself. "ikan, ikan," said mr ebony, shaking something in the bottom of the canoe. "ikan! where's that, i wonder?" i said to myself. "why, these are fishing-lines. ikan, fish," i exclaimed, pointing to the lines and then to the sea, making as if to throw in one of the lines. "ikan, ikan," cried mr ebony, grinning with delight, and then he touched my hands and the lines, and patted my back--dancing about afterwards till he nearly danced overboard, after which he became a little more calm, but kept on smiling in the most satisfied way, and shouting "ikan, ikan;" all the others saying it after him, as if highly satisfied, and when to please them i said "ikan, ikan," they uttered a shout, and i felt quite at home, and delighted at having come. i don't know how it was, but as soon as i felt satisfied that they were not going to do me any harm i began to learn how much they were all like a set of schoolboys of my own age, for big, strong, well-made men as they were, they seemed to be full of fun, and as young as they could be. they paddled swiftly out and away from the land, working hard to send the great canoe well along over the long rollers that we seemed to climb, to glide down the other side; and, with the exception of the heaving, slow rolling motion of the sea, all being deliciously calm, i thoroughly enjoyed my ride, especially as mr ebony, who was evidently a very big man amongst his people, had taken a great liking to me and kept on drawing my attention to every splash on the surface of the water, and then to the busy way in which he was preparing his coarse fishing-lines. i suppose there are some boys who never cared for fishing; but however cruel it may be as a sport, i must confess that i was always passionately fond of it, and now to be out on this tropic sea before sunrise, with the stars seen faintly here and there, the blacks keeping up a rhythmical motion of the paddles, and the water lapping up against the bow of the canoe, i felt an indescribable kind of delight that no words of mine will put on paper. i should think we paddled about a couple of miles, and then at a word from mr ebony the paddles were all laid in, and a line, with its great coarsely-made hooks formed out of well-sharpened pieces of brass wire, was handed to me, my guide showing me how to throw it over the side; not that i needed showing, for it seemed to come quite natural; and i began to think, as i passed the line over, of the sticklebacks on clapham common, and the occasional carp that we schoolboys used to catch. mr ebony grinned with satisfaction, and threw his own line over the side just as a splash behind me made me turn in time to see a rope running out rapidly, evidently attached to some kind of anchor. this checked the canoe, which was floating along so fast that it had begun to ride over our lines, which now, however, floated away upon the swift current. there was no noise or chattering now, but all the blacks sat or stood very quietly in the canoe, and i saw that three of them had long spears, barbed like hooks, and looking as if they were meant for catching fish. there was a good length of line in my hands, which i kept on paying out, as the sailors call it, just as mr ebony was letting out his till it was nearly all gone, and i saw that the end was tied to the edge of the canoe. but still there was no sign of any fish, and i was beginning to stare about me, for just then a patch of golden light seemed to start out into view, and i could see that the tops of the mountains in the island were just catching the first rays of the sun, while the stars that had been looking so pale seemed to go out quickly one after another. "i wonder whether uncle dick is awake yet," i thought to myself, "and what he will say to my being away, and--" an exclamation from my black companion brought me back from my dreamy thoughts; not that it was necessary, for something else had roused me, and that was a sharp jerk at the line, which snatched it quite out of my hands, and had it not been fastened to the side of the boat i should have lost it. mr ebony was coming to my help, but seeing me dart at it again and, catching hold, begin to haul in and struggle hard with my fish, he rubbed himself and grinned, especially when he saw that i had to hang on with all my might to keep from being dragged out of the canoe. the next moment he had enough to do to manage a fish that had taken his bait, and to keep it from crossing my line so as to get them into a tangle. it was quite startling for the moment to have hold of so strong a fish, one which darted here, there, and everywhere; now diving straight down, now running away out to sea, and then when i thought the line must snap, for it made tugs that cut my hands and jerked my shoulders, i uttered a cry of disappointment, for the line came in slack, and the fish was gone. it puzzled me to see how coolly the others took it, but i supposed that they were used to losing fish from the badness of their tackle, and besides, there was evidently a big one on mr ebony's line to take their attention. "i wonder whether he has taken the hook," i thought to myself as i carefully drew in the line, coiling it neatly down between my legs, yard after yard, till i had pulled in at least fifty yards of the coarse cord, when, to my utter astonishment, there was a sudden check or rush, and the line began to run rapidly out again, my fish being still there, and i saw now that it had made a rush in towards the canoe, and then lain quite still close to the bottom till i had disturbed it by jerking the line as i hauled it in. the rest that it had had seemed to have made it stronger than ever, for it darted about at a tremendous pace, and i was still playing it, letting it run when it made fierce dashes, and hauling in the line whenever it grew a little slack, when there was a bit of a bustle by my side as mr ebony drew his fish close up to the side of the canoe, and one of the blacks darted a barbed spear into it and lifted it into the canoe. it was a beautifully-marked fish about three feet long, and as i glanced at it i wondered whether mine would be as big; and then i thought it must be bigger, it pulled with such tremendous force; but at last its struggles grew less and less powerful, and twice over i was able to draw it nearly to the surface, but only for it to dart away again, and i thought it was lost. it seemed to excite a good deal of interest amongst the savages, two of whom stood, one on either side of me, ready with their spears to make a thrust at the fish, and one of them stretched out his hand to take the line from me, but mr ebony uttered such a fierce exclamation, and caught so angrily at a paddle, that the man drew back, and after a long and gallant fight i at last drew my fish so close in that, just as it was in the act of dashing off again, a couple of spears transfixed it, and it was drawn over the side amidst a shout of triumph. mr ebony, who was the most excited of all, patting me on the shoulders and shaking hands most eagerly with one of the savages, took out the hook, the line was thrown over again, and i had time to examine my prize, a splendid fish, flashing with glorious colours in the morning light. it was over a yard long, and very thick and round, while its glistening scales were as big as shillings at the very least; in fact i don't think i should exaggerate if i said that some in the centre rows were as large as two-shilling pieces, fluted and gilded, and some tinged with orange and glistening scarlet and green. so great was the delight of all on board that they began to dance and sing with such vigour that the canoe rocked about, and one man went head over heels out into the sea. i was horrified as i saw him disappear, but he was up again, grinning hugely, and slipped in over the side of the canoe like a great black eel, giving himself a shake to send the water out of his mop of hair, and then sitting down to watch us fish. for quite half an hour now we caught nothing, but it did not seem to matter, for there was so much to look at as the glorious sun rose over the sea, turning it into orange and gold; while, when i was tired of that, the beauty of the trees and mountains on the island, with the endless changes of light and shade, made my heart beat with pleasure as i thought of what a lovely home these savages possessed, and it seemed to explain to me why it was that they were all so childlike and happy. i caught another fish then of seven or eight pounds weight, different to the others, and mr ebony caught seven or eight quickly one after the other, i suppose out of a shoal, and then, laughing and chattering once again, the anchor, which proved to be a curious elbow, evidently the root of a tree, sharped at its points and weighted with a lump of coral, was hauled up, placed in the stern of the canoe, and we turned for the shore. "what a morning for a bathe!" i thought, as we drew nearer; and starting up in the canoe when we were about a quarter of a mile from the land, i began to take off my things, meaning to swim ashore, where we were within a couple of hundred yards; but mr ebony stopped me, saying something i could not understand of course. "i'm going to swim ashore," i said, making believe to leap overboard, and then striking out with my arms; but my companions all chattered angrily, and mr ebony, to my horror, came at me, snapping at my arms and legs with his great white teeth, and looking terribly fierce, while, as i shrunk away, one of the blacks touched me on the back, and as i turned sharply, with mr ebony holding on to my trouser leg and apparently trying to tear out a piece, the black behind me pointed down into the clear water, now brightly lit-up by the sun, and i saw two long grey fish gliding slowly amongst the coral rocks, and i wanted no telling that they were sharks. i pointed to the sharks in my turn, shuddering as i thought of what an escape i had had; and not being able to express myself in language, i did what mr ebony had done to me, made a dash at his leg and pretended to bite it, not doing so, however, for i did not care to touch his great black limb with my teeth. he understood me, though, and chattered with delight, getting up and relieving his feelings by a short dance before settling down again and shaking hands. in another minute the canoe was run up on the beautiful soft sand, the savages leaping out into the shallow water and carrying it beyond reach of the waves, when i stepped out with mr ebony, who made one of the men pick up my fish and carry it before us in triumph to our hut, the others taking the rest of the fish towards the village. chapter twenty four. a butterfly hunt. "why, nat," cried my uncle, "i was beginning to be alarmed. been fishing, eh?" he said, as he shook hands with our black friend, who had evidently made up his mind to stay breakfast; for, seizing the big fish, he snapped off a couple of great banana leaves upon which to lay it, and the man who had carried it went away; but not until i had made him show his teeth by giving him a couple of biscuits and a handful of sugar. i explained to my uncle how i had been carried off that morning, and my feeling of alarm, and he nodded. "i don't think there is anything to be alarmed about, nat," he replied, "so long as we do not in any way touch upon their prejudices; but what a splendid fish, nat, my boy! it must be a kind of mullet, i should say, by its soft mouth and the long barbs hanging from the corners of its chubby lips. yes, that's what it must be; but i'm sorry to say that i am very ignorant about fish." my uncle had not been idle, for he had made a good fire, the kettle was boiling, and we should have begun breakfast at once if it had not been for mr ebony's preparations. he had lost no time, but had slit off some great chunks of solid fish, placing them on great bamboo skewers to roast, washing his hands afterwards with great nicety, and then scooping up the dry warm sand and letting it trickle over his fingers, palms, and wrists, until they were dry. "i have not been idle, you see, nat," said my uncle, pointing to a newly made skin, that of a very lovely little green lory with a delicate peach-coloured head, the separation from the green feathers being marked by a deep black collar which gave the bird a neatness and beauty that was very attractive to the eye. but mr ebony was not satisfied with his contribution to the breakfast, for, striking me on the breast, pointing to the fire, and saying, "ikan, ikan, youf, youf," several times over, i repeated them to his satisfaction, understanding that he meant i was to mind the fish, and then he went off quickly. "ikan," said my uncle, "that's the malay word for fish, so i suppose they use some malay words though their language is quite different." "then he said, `youf, youf,' uncle." "yes: youf must mean cooking or fire, which is api in the malay tongue. but this fresh morning air gives me an appetite, nat. i hope he won't be long; turn the fish, my lad, it's burning." "no, uncle, it's only brown," i replied, altering the position of the great collops; "but how beautiful it smells!" "yes, nat, we want no fish sauces out here, my boy." "where did you shoot that beautiful lory, uncle?" i asked. "it was in that palm-tree close to us, nat," he replied; "and now, while we are waiting, i'll put together a few boxes and the butterfly-nets and the cyanide bottle, ready for a start directly after breakfast." "shall you take the guns, uncle?" "only one, nat, and we'll carry it in turn," he replied. "this is to be a butterfly and beetle day, so we will not go far in any direction, but keep within reach of the camp so as to come back for food and rest. it will save us from having to carry provisions." just then we saw mr ebony coming towards us loaded with a basket of fruit, which he placed on the sand, and then after a dance round us he plumped down by the fire and picked out the skewers where the fish was most done, handing one to each, and our breakfast began. mr ebony thoroughly enjoyed his coffee with plenty of sugar, for he had no distrust now, but ate and drank as we did, laughing and talking all the while, and stopping every now and then to point to butterfly or bird that went by, eating a prodigious breakfast, but mostly of fish and fruit. breakfast over, as soon as he saw us ready for a start he stuck his spear down again in front of the door, excited and eager to be off, and ready to draw our attention to the fact that one of us had no gun. we pointed, however, to the butterfly-nets and that satisfied him, and when we were ready to start i suggested to my uncle that we should put the uncooked remains of the fish and the fruit inside the hut so as to have them when we came back. "to be sure, nat," he said, "i had forgotten them." but at the first attempt to remove them mr ebony stopped me, and uttered a loud, ringing cry, whose effect was to bring about a couple of dozen little naked black boys out of the jungle, where they must have been watching us, safely hidden all the time. to these comical-looking little objects the chief said a few words, when there was a rush, and the remains from our breakfast were carried off like magic, mr ebony pointing to the sea and to the trees as much as to say, "there is plenty more when we want it." we were not long in getting to work, for no sooner were we in the denser part of the island where the foliage grew thick and moist, than we were astounded at the number of little lizards that swarmed about, darting here and there and puzzling me at first as to what colour they were. one moment they seemed to be bright green, the next like a wriggling line of the most beautiful blue. i found out their colour, though, as soon as i had one in the butterfly-net, for while their bodies were of a brilliant green, their tails were a blue as pure as the sky. a couple of them were consigned to the spirit bottle for preservation, and then we tramped on, growing more and more delighted with the country the farther we went. for some time butterflies were absent, so we had to take to collecting birds, but hardly had we shot three different kinds of parrots, all of a most lovely colour, than we seemed to tumble upon the butterflies, and in the course of that one day we captured some of the most lovely specimens i had ever seen out of a museum. blue, yellow, black, crimson, no tint was wanting to make them attractive, and we went on for hour after hour, forgetting all about our dinner in the excitement of the chase, and filling our boxes before we thought of leaving off. not only butterflies had been captured, but beetles of many kinds, most of them clad in armour that seemed to have been burnished, so brilliant were they in their green, purple, and violet when held up in the sun. chapter twenty five. why ebony would not say good-bye. it was with feelings full of regret that we said good-bye to our black friend at the end of a month; for by that time the want of fresh specimens made my uncle say that it was time to be on the move. we could have gone on shooting scarlet lories, nutmeg pigeons, and pittas as long as we liked, but that would have been wanton work, and uncle discovered that the neighbouring islands would, wherever we went, give us fresh supplies and present to us birds and insects such as we had never seen before, so at last we prepared to start, and with some little difficulty made mr ebony understand that we wanted a good supply of sago, fruit, and fish for our voyage. at first he could not understand that we were going right away, but as soon as he did comprehend our signs the poor fellow looked miserable, for he had regularly attached himself to us all the time of our stay, and he was inconsolable at the idea of our going. he helped us, however, to load our boat, and would have given us fish enough for twenty people would we have taken it; and at last, just after an early breakfast, we bade farewell to the beautiful island, and waving an adieu to the people, of whom we had seen very little, we turned to shake hands with our black friend, both my uncle and i having ready a present for him; mine being a handy little hatchet, my uncle's a large two-bladed knife. to our surprise, though, as we stood down on the sands he refused to shake hands with us, looking very serious and glum, and when we gave him our presents, thinking that they would bring a smile to his face, he took them quickly and threw them into the bottom of the boat. "it is a pity," said my uncle, "for i do not like the idea of parting bad friends, nat, my boy. i'd give something if i could speak to the poor fellow in his own language and tell him that we are not ungrateful for all his kindness." "i often wish we could speak in their own tongue, uncle," i said. "yes, nat, but it is next to impossible, for there are fifty or sixty different dialects spoken. there, offer to shake hands with him again. you two were always such good friends." i offered my hand to the black chief, but he put his own behind him and pointed to the boat, as much, it seemed to me, as to say, "there, you've got all you want now; go away." my uncle tried with no better success, and as the natives were gathering about us we reluctantly got in where the beautiful canoe lay heaving on the sands as the great rollers came in. everything was in readiness, our boxes snugly stowed, our provisions ready, our guns in their waterproof cases, the sail lay ready for hoisting, and all that was wanted now was to wait until a good wave came in and then shove off and ride out on it as it retired. the canoe was so large that i wondered whether we should be able to manage it ourselves; but i had full confidence in my uncle's skill, and it seemed to me that my help now ought to be of some use. so i seized the pole that lay ready, and prepared to use it; but mr ebony, as we had somehow got into the habit of calling him now, said something to the little crowd on the sands, when, as he took the lead, eight or nine ran into the water, seized the boat by the sides, and ran her right out forty or fifty yards to where the water was up to their breasts, when, giving us a final thrust, away we went upon the top of a roller, my uncle hoisting the sail at the right moment, and we glided on. i had seized a great paddle used for steering and taken care to keep the boat's head right, laughing to myself the while, and wondering what my uncle would say when he turned round, for he was hauling up the sail and too busy to notice anything but his work. when at last he did turn round, just as we had glided lightly a good five hundred yards from the shore, he cried out: "hallo!" for there, just in front of me, squatting down upon his heels and with all his white teeth displayed, was mr ebony, apparently quite at home, and without the slightest intention of going back. "why, what does this mean?" said my uncle, and he pointed to the shore. but mr ebony had no intention of going, and if we had not learned much of his language, he had picked up something of ours, for he began to shout, "no, no, no, no, no," till he was out of breath, and laying himself down he took tight hold of one of the thwarts of the canoe, as if to say that he meant to cling to that if we tried to throw him over. "this is why he wouldn't shake hands, nat," said my uncle. "he couldn't swim ashore now, for the sharks, so i suppose he means to come with us. let's see." my uncle pointed to the shore, but mr ebony shook his head, so uncle dick pointed right ahead eastward, in the direction we were going, and our black friend nodded, and jumping up danced about, grinning and muttering excitedly the while. "well, nat," said my uncle, "what's to be done? he wants to go with us." "can't we take him, uncle?" i replied. "oh yes, nat, we can take him," he replied; "and he would be very useful. only it comes upon me like a surprise. it is, of course, a good thing to have a black with us, for it will teach the people we come across that we are friendly, even if we cannot make them understand, though, i dare say, ebony here will be able sometimes to act as interpreter." "ebo-nee, ebo-nee, ebo-nee," cried our passenger loudly; and he began to beat his chest to show that he comprehended whom we meant. then touching me on the chest he cried with great eagerness, "nat, my boy--nat, my boy," looking delighted when we laughed; and to give further example of his powers as a linguist, he next touched my uncle as he had touched me. "ung-go-dit, ung-go-dit," he cried, finishing off by slapping his naked flesh, and shouting, "ebo-nee, ebo-nee." "very good, master ebo-nee," said uncle dick; "since you are so apt at learning, you may as well go on and pick up our words, for i quite despair of learning yours." the black was shrewd enough to see that we accepted his presence, and upon this he shook hands with us both twice over and then took the great paddle from my hand, steering and showing himself thoroughly skilful in the management of our canoe. my uncle pointed east as the course he wanted to go; but our crew, as we called him, rose in mutiny directly, pointing south, and handing the paddle back to me he grew very excited, saying, "bird, bird," flapping his arms like wings and uttering screeches, whistles, and cries, before lifting an imaginary gun to his shoulder and uttering the word "bang!" "that is plain enough to understand, nat," said my uncle. "yes," i replied; "he means that there are plenty of parrots and other birds on some island where he will take us." "bird, bird," cried ebo-nee, as we called him henceforth, and he pointed south-west. "it does not much matter where we go, nat," said my uncle, "so long as we visit islands where naturalists have never been before, so i shall trust to our friend here. we can get to new guinea at any time now, for it lies all along the north. all right, go on then," said my uncle to ebo-nee, and he nodded and smiled, pointing to what looked like a mist upon the water far away. "nat, ung, shoot," cried ebo eagerly; "shoot, shoot, shoot." "why, we shall have quite an english scholar on board soon, nat," said my uncle laughing; and then in turns we held the sheet as the swift canoe glided over the sunlit waves till the island we had left began to grow dim in the distance and its mountains to sink, as it were, beneath the wave, while the place to which we were going grew less misty and indistinct. it was evidently very high land, and as we drew nearer we could see that right and left of it there were other islands apparently of goodly size. mid-day came and we made a hearty meal, the canoe, urged by the soft brisk breeze, still gliding onwards till towards evening, when we were sufficiently near the land we approached to make out that it was very bleak and bare and sterile. there was a ridge of mountains in the central portion, but as we examined the place with the glass it looked as blank and uninviting as could be. "not a sign of an inhabitant," said my uncle. "i'm afraid we have made a mistake, nat; but perhaps one of the other islands may prove more inviting." he continued his inspection and went on talking. "there are plenty of traces of sea-birds," he continued, "for the cliffs are covered with guano; but it is not their breeding season, and i cannot see a single bird. but he is not making straight for the sands. why don't you try to land there?" ebo shook his head, and then laughed and said, "no," steering the canoe to the left of the island. and so we sailed on till it was so near sunset that it would be dark in half an hour, when our crew, who had evidently been here before, suddenly steered the canoe into a cove well sheltered from the rollers, and lowering the sail we ran her up on the soft sands quite clear of the sea, ebo at once setting to work collecting dry drift-wood to make a fire. he pointed out a sheltered spot among some heaped-up rocks where the sand had been blown up by tempests into a soft bed, and here, after a very hearty meal well cooked over the fire ebo had made, we lay down to sleep; my uncle having climbed to the top of the rocks and swept the island with his glass, returning to say that there was not a trace of a human being. we slept soundly and well out there in that little storm-swept island, but no storms disturbed us, and the first thing i heard after lying down was the crackling of wood as ebo piled it up to make a good fire. as soon as he saw me awake he beckoned me to go to the boat, and there, taking the fish we had brought out of the basket, he smelt it, made me do the same, and then threw all but one small silvery fellow into the sea. "hullo!" cried my uncle, "isn't that waste, nat?" for he had advanced over the sands unheard. "i think so, uncle, but he means to catch some fresh." that was evidently ebo's intentions, for he cut up the silvery fish into scraps for bait, and then signing to us to help him, we launched the canoe, paddled out half a mile, and then threw over a couple of lines, ebo showing his teeth with delight as he drew in quickly a couple of good-sized mullet-looking fish, a couple more, and another soon coming to my line. but ebo was not satisfied till we had caught five or six times as many as seemed necessary. then and then only did we paddle ashore. it was soon evident why ebo had wanted so many fish, for after cleaning and setting enough for our breakfasts to roast, he prepared the rest and put them to cook while we made a hearty meal. this being ended my uncle rose. "well, nat," he said, "this seems a terribly sterile place, but we may as well have a look round; one finds good specimens sometimes in unlikely spots. let's get our guns." ebo was watching us intently all the time, evidently trying to comprehend us and directly after he, to our utter astonishment, shouted out: "no gun; no shoot; no gun; no bird. boat, boat, boat, boat." he pointed to the canoe, and then right to sea again, and seeing us laugh he burst into a hearty fit himself, ending by dancing about and putting the freshly cooked fish on board, where we followed him and once more launched upon the tropic sea. it was plain enough that this was only a resting-place upon our way, for as soon as the sail was hoisted ebo took the paddle and steered us south-west, leaving larger islands to right and left though nothing was visible ahead. "i suppose we must trust him, nat," said my uncle; "but it does look rather wild work cruising these seas in an open canoe, quite at the mercy of a savage whose language we cannot speak." "but i think he must have been here before, uncle," i replied. "no doubt about it, my boy." "nat, my boy," cried ebo laughing, for he had caught part of my uncle's speech. "yes, he has been here before, and probably has touched at some place where he has seen, or thinks he has seen, plenty of birds. at any rate, if the weather holds fair it will not be such a very difficult thing to run for some island for shelter." i had been thinking the same thing, that it seemed a very risky proceeding to sail right out to sea under the guidance of this savage; but there was so much romance and novelty in the idea of sailing away like columbus in search of a new land, that i thoroughly enjoyed it, and the farther we sailed the more excited i grew. it was now plain enough why ebo had insisted upon a good supply of fish, for we dined off it and then made our evening meal of the same, no land being in sight, and when at last the lower edge of the sun seemed to touch the crimson water, sending a path of light right to our canoe, whose sail it seemed to turn to ruddy gold, there was still no land in sight. my uncle stood up and used the glass, gazing straight before him in the direction that seemed to be our goal; but ebo shook his head, and then closed his eyes and made believe to sleep, pointing to us in turn. "he wants us to lie down and sleep, nat," said my uncle, "but it is out of the question;" and he shook his head. ebo tried again and again to get us to lie down, but finding that we would not, he sat there laughing and looking as merry as could be, although there was no land in sight, and at last, when the sun was disappearing, he placed the paddle in my uncle's hand, pointing south-south-west as the course to be steered, after which he lay down and went off fast asleep. i sat talking to my uncle and holding the sheet, though the breeze was so steady it seemed to be quite unnecessary, while he steered the canoe onward through the darkness, taking the stars for his compass, till the motion of the boat and the darkness combined to send me off into a deep sleep. i had closed my eyes and started up several times before, but this last time, when i opened my eyes again a was to see the black figure of ebo seated there steering, with the sun just above the horizon, and my uncle stretched in the bottom of the canoe fast asleep. ebo grinned as i stared at him, and then as i looked about i found that far away to the west there was land that we must have passed in the night, but still we were sailing on as it were into space. the water now was bright golden again, and the air felt delicious; but i began to wish that we were at our journey's end, and pointing ahead i tried to learn from our steersman how much farther he was going to take us. his reply was to point straight ahead, and we were still speeding on, when, after five or six hours' sleep, my uncle jumped up into wakefulness, ready to partake of the waiting meal of cold fish, biscuits, and fruit; the coffee, which in a case like this i made by means of a spirit-lamp, being kept in abeyance for a time. "well, nat," he said, "is our wild-goose chase nearly at an end? is land in sight?" "no, uncle," i said, after gazing carefully ahead. just then ebo pointed to the telescope, and made signs to my uncle to use it. "look through?" he said to the black. "all right, my friend, i will;" and placing it to his eye as he stood up in the boat he cried to me as i eagerly watched him, "land ahead, nat, and apparently a wooded shore!" chapter twenty six. an unknown island. by the time we had made a hearty meal ebo pointed with triumph to the faint hazy speck in the distance, now growing minute by minute plainer to our eyes. ebo watched our countenances very intently, and then suddenly broke out with: "bird--shoot--bird." "he seems to have brought us here under the impression that it is a good place, nat, and i trust it will prove so," said my uncle. "i hope there will be no unpleasant savages to hinder our work." as we drew nearer the glass was frequently brought to bear, but neither my uncle nor i could detect any sign of habitation, not even when we were within a quarter of a mile of the shore; but, to uncle dick's great delight, the place proved to be densely wooded in some parts, while the lofty hills looked green and park-like, with the large trees dotted here and there. the beach was a soft white sand, upon which the waves curled gently over; and not twenty yards from the highest marks made by the tide, the tall palms, loaded with fruit, drooped their great feathery leaves. as far as we could see the island was not large, but the interior was very mountainous, the green hills running up to a great height, for the most part well-clothed with wood; and to our great delight, as we ran the boat cautiously upon the sand, we could hear the screams of parrots and the whistling and twittering of innumerable birds. "we may as well be prepared against danger," said uncle dick, loading his gun, and i followed suit; but ebo began to chatter and expostulate with us for leaving the boat, and signed to us to help him run it up on the next wave well ashore, so that a rope could be made fast round the nearest palm stem. this we did, and the black's next movement was to collect wood for a fire. to humour him we waited about while he lit the fire, but kept making little incursions amongst the openings to see if we could spy out any signs of human habitation. but look where we would we saw nothing, and it soon became evident that we were the only occupants of that part of the island. ebo seemed so satisfied and contented that it was very evident that there was nothing to fear; so we obeyed his signs after we had helped him to make a good fire, and followed him through an open park-like piece of the country till we were about half a mile from the sea, when his object in guiding us was plain enough, for he pointed out a little flock of half a dozen pigeons, as big, it seemed to me, as ordinary fowls, and getting within range we fired together, and shot four. ebo rushed forward in triumph, and i followed, to regret that i had not attended to uncle dick's instructions about reloading, for i could have obtained a specimen of a curious great black parrot or cockatoo, i could not quite see which, as it flew across an opening. but we secured the birds we had shot, and going back my uncle and i set to and skinned them, handing over the bodies to ebo to cook, while we carefully preserved the skins, admiring them all the while. for they were of a rich warm slate colour, and each bird bore a delicate grey crest upon his head, which gave him a noble look, making each bird seem a very prince among pigeons. handsome as was the appearance of the birds, they were none the less delicious in the eating. no doubt our open-air life had a good deal to do with the keen enjoyment we had in eating the birds we shot; but feeding as these pigeons did on spices, nuts, and other sweet food, the flavour given to their flesh was very fine. dinner over, we were for an expedition; but ebo protested loudly. taking an axe and beckoning us to follow we accompanied him to a patch of bamboo, and helped him to cut down a good selection of stout pieces, and after them a number of lengths of rattan cane, which grew here in a wonderful way. i had seen it growing before, but never to such perfection; for it seemed to run up one tree and down another, running along over the bushes for a short distance and then ascending another, till uncle dick computed that some of these canes were quite a hundred yards long. it was very evident what ebo meant, and he was telling us all the time, though not a word could we understand, as we helped him. "as we are to make a hut for shelter, nat, i suppose he expects us to stay here for some time, which is a good sign, for he evidently knows that there are plenty of specimens to be had." "do you think any naturalist has been here before, uncle?" i said. "i hardly dare think such a thing, nat," he replied; "but i cannot help feeling hopeful. as i judge it this seems to be an island to which he and his fellows have sailed some time or another, and it is possible that european foot has never trodden here before." "let's hope it is so, uncle," i said; "and then, what a collection we shall get!" "you will make me as sanguine as you are yourself, nat," he said laughing; and then we began to be too hot and busy to talk much, for after carrying the bamboos and rattans to the edge of the forest, just beneath a widely spreading tree, in whose branches every now and then some beautiful lory came and perched, but only to fly off screaming, ebo began to build. sharpening four stout bamboos and forcing them into the soft sandy soil for the four corners of the hut, he very soon bound as many more to them horizontally about five feet from the ground, tying them in the cleverest way with the cane. then he tied a couple more across at each end, and laid a long stout bamboo in the forks they made for a ridge-pole, binding all as strongly as could be with an ingenious twist, and after that making rafters of smaller bamboos, so that in a couple of hours he had made the rough framework. towards the latter part of the time, in obedience to his instructions, which were given by word of mouth and wave of hand, uncle dick and i cut a great number of palm leaves of a very large size, with which ebo rapidly thatched the hut, making by the time it was dark a very rough but very efficient shelter, where we lay down to sleep that night upon a pile of soft dry grass, of which there was any quantity naturally made into hay and close at hand. we were so tired out that night that we did not trouble ourselves about there being no sides to the hut, being only too glad to have a roof to keep off the dew, and, trusting to there being no dangerous wild beasts, we followed ebo's example, lying down and sleeping soundly till the sun was once more above the sea. chapter twenty seven. fresh treasures. ebo set to work earnestly to finish the hut, binding down the palm leaves of the thatch with more long canes, which he cleverly threaded in and out, and afterwards secured their ends. then he cut off the long ends of the bamboos so as to leave all tidy before commencing the sides. my uncle was as anxious as i was to go upon some expedition; but as there was no shelter to be obtained here, and it became more and more evident that we were upon an uninhabited island, he saw the necessity for having our boxes and stores under a roof. so we set manfully to work helping the black, cutting bamboos, bringing large palm leaves, fetching long rattan canes, and handing them to him; while, saving when he left off for meals, ebo toiled like a slave, working with an industry that we should not have expected to find in an inhabitant of one of these sleepy isles. at last, though, he finished, and his childish delight seemed to know no bounds. he danced and shouted, ran in and out, walked round the hut, and then strutted up to us full of self-satisfaction, his tongue going all the while, and evidently feeling highly delighted at our smiles and words of praise. no time was lost in transferring our boxes and stores beneath the roof; and then, as it wanted quite three hours to sunset, my uncle proposed, by way of recompense for all our drudgery, that we should take our guns and see if we could not obtain a few specimens. ebo looked delighted, and, without being told, obtained a short piece of bamboo ready for carrying the birds we shot. then, taking his spear out of the canoe, he smiled to show how ready he was; but uncle dick took him by the arm and led him up to the door of the hut. "put your spear there, as you did before, to keep off all visitors, master ebo," he said; and he accompanied his request with signs to express what he wished. ebo understood him at once, and made as if to stick the spear in the ground before the door, but he stopped short and shook his head, ran a few yards, and peered in amongst the trees; turned round and shook his head again; ran in another direction and peeped about, coming back shaking his head again. ebo's motions said as plainly as could be: "there is nobody here but ourselves," and as if to satisfy us he led the way to a high hill about a mile away, from whence we had a splendid view all but in one direction, where there lay a clump of mountains. look which way we would there was nothing but rich plain and dense jungle, with occasional patches of park-like land. not a sign was there of huts, and once more ebo looked at us and shook his head, counting us afterwards in his own way--one, two, three, and then tossing his arms in the air. "we are in luck, nat," said my uncle. "this island must swarm with natural history specimens, and he has brought us here because he thought it a good place; so now to make the best use of our time. look out!" as he spoke he raised his gun and fired at a bird darting down a narrow rift between two rocks that looked as if they had been riven asunder. i thought he had missed it, but ebo ran ahead and returned directly with a most lovely kingfisher in glorious plumage. "if we get nothing more in this island, nat, i shall be satisfied," said my uncle as we gazed at the lovely creature which ebo had brought; and seeing the satisfaction in our faces he indulged in another dance. "yes," continued my uncle, patting ebo's black shoulder, "you are a treasure, ebo, and i see we shall be greatly in your debt. now, nat, we must not have a feather of that bird spoiled. i feel ready to go back on purpose to prepare it." it was indeed a lovely creature; but as i gazed upon its delicately beautiful tints i felt puzzled. it was of rich purple on the back, with azure-blue shoulders dashed and speckled with a lighter blue, while all the under parts were of a pure white, which seemed to throw out the rich colours of the back. but the great beauty of the specimen was its tail, which was long and had the two centre feathers continued almost without any plumes till the end, where they spread out like a couple of racket bats, making the little bird in all about a foot and a half long. i felt as if i should never tire of gazing at the beautiful specimen, and quite understood my uncle's feeling about wishing to make sure of it by preserving it at once. just then, though, a large bird flew across, at which i fired, but it was too far distant, and the shots did no more than rattle about its feathers. "did you see its great beak, uncle?" i said. "yes, nat, a hornbill. i daresay we shall find plenty of them here. they take the places in the east of the toucans of the west. but now, nat, there is an easy shot for you--look! ebo is pointing to it. there, seated on that twig. now see he darts off after a fly and is back again. no, he is off once more. we have scared him." but by this time i had seen the bird, and taking quick aim as it hovered and snatched at a fly of some kind, i fired and brought it down, to find that i too had got a prize in the shape of a lovely little bee-eater, with plumage rich in green and blue, brown and black, while its tail was also rendered more beautiful by the extension of its central feathers in two long thin points. my uncle's gun spoke out again the next moment, the second barrel following quickly, and ebo ran and picked up another of the lovely kingfishers, and one of a different kind with a rich coral-red beak, short tail, and its back beautifully barred with blue and black like the ornamental feathers in the wings of a jay. "that is a bee-eater you have shot, nat, and a lovely thing too. mine are all kingfishers." "there must be a little stream down in that hollow between those rocks, uncle," i replied. "no, nat, i don't suppose there is," he said, smiling. "but why do you say that?" "because of those kingfishers, uncle. there must be a stream or pool somewhere near." "i daresay there is, nat; but not on account of these birds, my lad. they are dry kingfishers, nat. they do not live upon fish, but upon beetles, butterflies, and moths, darting down and picking them off the ground without wetting a feather." "why, how curious!" i said. "they have beaks just like the kingfishers at home." "very much like them, nat," he said; "but they catch no fish. but come, we must get back to the hut, or we shall never get our birds turned into skins before dark. look out!" we fired so closely together that it sounded like one shot, and three more of the great pigeons fell heavily to the ground--part of a little flock that was passing over our head. ebo seized them with a grin of delight, for he knew that these meant larder, and then hastening back we had just time to strip and prepare our skins before night fell, when, work being ended, the fire was relit, the kettle boiled, and a sort of tea-supper by moonlight, with the dark forest behind and the silvery sea before us, ended a very busy day. chapter twenty eight. a bit of a scare. that night as i lay in the dark, with the beach outside lit-up by the moon, and listened to the strange noises of the forest behind the hut, i felt over and over again ready to awaken my uncle or ebo, so sure was i that i could hear wild beasts on the move. should there be tigers, or leopards, or even wild boars, what chance should we have if they attacked? or it might be that one of the huge serpents of which i had read so much might creep in at the open door. i wanted to be brave, but somehow that night i felt horribly afraid, even the humming buzz of some night-flying beetle making me start. perhaps i was over-excited, or perhaps, as my uncle would have said, i had eaten too much. at all events, be it what it may, i could not go to sleep, but lay there turning hot and cold and wishing it was morning. the silence seemed so dreadful, and the idea of this being an uninhabited island, instead of being delightful as it had felt in the bright sunshine, now appeared horrible, and i lay thinking of our being far from all human help, and that if our boat happened to drift away we should be left to starve. of course this was all nonsense, for with such a clever savage as ebo and our own ingenuity and tools we could have built another boat--not such a good one as we had arrived in, but quite strong enough to bear us over a calm sea to one or the other of the islands where trading vessels came. then i grew hot and seemed to be dripping with perspiration, and my horror increased. what would become of us when our food and powder and shot were gone? we should starve to death. and i began to tremble and wish i had not come, feeling as if i would give anything to be back at home in my old bedroom, with the gas outside in the road and the policeman's heavy foot to be heard now and then as he went along his beat on the look-out for burglars. i should have been ready to meet aunt sophia the next morning and receive the severest scolding i had ever had--anything to be away from where i was. then i tried to reason with myself and to think that even if our powder and shot were gone we could make bows and arrows, and set traps, and as food ran short we could always make fishing-lines and catch the scaly creatures that swarmed amongst the rocks all round the shore. besides which there were cocoa-nuts in plenty, with abundance of other fruit. i thought too of how when i was at home i should have revelled in the idea of being in such a place, to have an uninhabited island, and such a glorious one, far more beautiful and productive than that of robinson crusoe, than whom i should be far better off, for in addition to a man friday i had my clever uncle for companion, guide, and protector. at the thought of the last word i stretched out my hand to awaken him and tell him of my horrible feeling of dread; but i drew it back for very shame, for what was there to be afraid of? i grew a little calmer then and lay gazing out of the open door at the brilliant moonlight, which made some leaves glisten as if they were of silver, and all beneath and amidst the thickets look dark and black and soft as velvet. then came a strange sighing noise from the forest behind us, which made my flesh creep as i wondered what it could be. then there was a wild, strange cry, and soon after a heavy crash as of something falling. after that, as i lay bathed in perspiration and oppressed by the terrible feeling of loneliness that seemed to increase, i fancied i heard the pat, pat, pat, pat of some animal running along the ground, followed by a hard breathing. "that must be a wild beast," i said to myself; and i rose up on one elbow to listen, meaning to get hold of my gun and load it if the sound came nearer. then in a confused and troubled way i began to ask myself whether i ought to awaken uncle dick and at the same time kick ebo to make him seize his spear and help in our defence. but there are no big wild beasts in these islands, my uncle had said to me several times, even expressing his doubt as to there being anything very large in new guinea. "but there are great apes," i said to myself. "i know there are in borneo, so why should there not be others in an island like this?" and in imagination i began to picture a hideous, great orang-outang cautiously advancing towards our cabin. i knew they could be very fierce and that they were tremendously strong. then, too, some travellers had described them as being quite giants of six, seven, and eight feet high, and supposing that there really were no other wild beasts in this island, undoubtedly there were these wild men of the woods, as the malays called them, and it was one of these that was coming about the hut. of course; i knew now as well as if i had seen it. that crash i had heard was made by one of these monsters, and that was its hard breathing that i could hear now. it was of no use that i tried to make myself believe that i was only listening to ebo breathing, and every now and then indulging in a regular snore. no, i would not believe it, and lay with my feeling of horror increasing each moment till i lay so helpless now, that if i had wanted to get my gun i could not, i dared not move. then there was another horror in the shape of a curious lapping noise from the sea, with a splashing and wallowing as of some great beast; and i did know this, that horrible crocodiles came up the rivers and lived about their mouths, going out to sea and back, and though we had seen no river yet in this island, it was evident that this was one of the monsters crawling about on the shore, and i seemed to see it in the moonlight with its great coarse, scaly back, crooked legs, long stiff tail, and hideous head with sly cruel-looking eyes, and wide, long, teeth-armed jaws. after a while i knew as well as could be that with its strange instinct it would scent us out and come nearer and nearer, crawling along over the soft sand and leaving a track that could easily be seen the next day. i even seemed to see its footprints with the wide-spread toes, and the long, wavy furrow ploughed by its tail. it was all one terrible nightmare, growing worse and worse; the noise on the shore increased, the rustling and crashing in the woods; there was a strange humming and buzzing all around, and the breathing sounded closer and deeper. at last when i felt as if i could bear it no longer, and that if i did not rouse my uncle and ebo we should be destroyed, i tried to call out, but my voice sounded weak and faint; there was a terrible sense of oppression about me, and the humming and singing noise increased. i contrived, however, to touch ebo, and he muttered angrily and changed his position, the noise he made in doing so waking my uncle, who started up on one elbow as if to listen. "he hears it all, then," i said to myself, and with a wonderful sense of relief i knew that we should be saved. why did i not spring up to help him? you will say. ah! that i could not do, for i lay there perfectly paralysed with fright and quite speechless, till to my horror i saw in the dim light of the reflected moonbeams my uncle lie down again, when i made a tremendous effort and gasped forth something or another, i cannot say what. "hallo!" he exclaimed. "anything the matter, nat?" and getting up quickly he struck a match and lit a little wax taper that he always carried in the brass match-box, part of which formed a stick. he was kneeling by my side directly and had hold of my hand, when at his touch my senses seemed to come back to me. "quick!--the guns!" i panted; "wild beasts!--a crocodile, an ape, uncle. i have been hearing them come." "nonsense! my boy," he said, smiling. "no, no; it is no nonsense, uncle. quick!--the guns!" "no, my dear boy, it is nonsense. there are no noxious or dangerous beasts here. you are quite safe from them. you have been dreaming, nat." "i've not been asleep," i said piteously. "haven't you, my lad?" he said, with one hand on my brow and the other on my wrist; "then you have been fancying all these troubles. nat, my boy, you have got a touch of fever. i'm very glad you woke me when you did." "fever, uncle?" i gasped, as the horror of my situation increased, and like a flash came the idea of being ill out in that wilderness, away from all human help and comfort; and, ludicrous is it may sound, i forgot all about uncle dick, and began to think of dr portly, who had a big brass plate upon his door in the clapham road. "yes, my boy, a touch of fever, but we'll soon talk to him, nat; we'll nip him in the bud. a stitch in time saves nine. now you shall see what's in that little flat tin box i brought. i saw you stare at it when i packed up." "i thought it was preserving things, uncle," i said. "so it is, my boy, full of preserving things, one of which you shall soon have for a dose. i hope you like bitters, nat?" he laughed so pleasantly that he seemed to give me courage, but i glanced in a frightened way at the opening as i said that i did not much mind. he saw my glance, and went outside with a cup in his hand, to come back in a few minutes with it full of water from a pool close by. "no wild beasts about, nat, my boy," he said merrily. "they were only fever phantoms." "but i have not been to sleep, uncle," i protested. "sign that you are ill, nat, because generally you drop off in an instant and sleep soundly for hours. there are no wild beasts, my boy, in these islands." "but i'm sure i heard a great ape breathing hard, and it broke off a great branch in the forest." "and i'm sure, nat, that you heard ebo snoring; and as to the branch breaking, you heard, i dare say, a dead one fall. they are always falling in these old forests. we don't notice the noise in the day, when the birds are singing, but in the night everything sounds wonderfully clear." "but i'm certain i heard a crocodile crawling up out of the sea, and creeping towards the hut." "and i'm certain you did not, my dear boy. we have no muddy tidal river here for them to frequent. it was all fever-born, nat, my boy; believe me." all the while he was talking i saw that he was busy getting something ready. first he put a little white powder in a glass, then he poured a few drops of something over it, and filled it up with water, stirring it with a little bit of glass rod before kneeling down by me. "there, nat," he said kindly, "drink that off." "what is it, uncle?" i said, taking the glass with hot and trembling hand. "a preserving thing, my boy. one of the greatest blessings ever discovered for a traveller. it is quinine, nat, fever's deadliest enemy. down with it at once." the stuff was intensely bitter, but my mouth was so hot and parched, and the water with it so cool and pleasant, that i quite enjoyed it, and drew a deep breath. "there, now, lie down again, my boy, and be off to sleep. don't fill your head full of foolish imaginings, nat. there is nothing to fear from wild beasts here." "but am i going to be very ill, uncle?" "no, certainly not. you will sleep after that till three or four hours past sunrise, and then you will waken, feeling a little weak, perhaps, but in other respects all right. perhaps it will come back again, and if it does we will rout it out once more with some quinine. why, nat, i've had dozens of such attacks." i lay back, feeling more at rest, and satisfied that uncle was right about the beasts, for there was no sound now to trouble me; only the lapping of the water, which seemed to be only the waves now beating softly upon the sand, while the heavy breathing was certainly ebo's, that gentleman never having moved since i touched him. then i saw my uncle shut up his little tin case and replace it in the chest, put out the wax taper, and lie down upon his couch of dry grass, yawning slightly, and then lying gazing out of the open door, for i could see his eyes shine. but by degrees the faintly lit-up hut, with its bamboos and roof, its chests, guns, and ebo's spear, all seemed to grow indistinct, and then all was restful peace. chapter twenty nine. a strange cry in the woods. when i opened my eyes again the sea was dancing and sparkling, and the leaves waving gently in the soft warm breeze. i could see from where i lay that the water was rippling gently upon the sand, and not far from the hut door my uncle was busy skinning some bright-plumaged bird, while ebo was cooking a couple of pigeons, and watching a little kettle stuck amongst the glowing ashes. i was very comfortable, and did not feel disposed to move, for all seemed so calm and pleasant; and when i thought a little about my previous night's fancies i was ready to smile at them as being perfectly absurd. i did not speak, but lay quite still, gazing at the lovely picture framed by the open door, and thinking how beautiful it all was, and how foolish i had been to go on fancying such dangers as i had in the night. then it was very pleasant, too, to watch uncle dick, and how very much quicker and cleverer he was at making a skin than i was. still, i hoped by practice to get to be as quick. he went on till he had dressed the interior of the skin with the soap preparation, and after filling certain parts with cotton-wool, and tying the wing-bones together, he turned it back, smoothed the plumage, and i saw that it was another of the short blue-barred kingfishers similar to that we had obtained before. i could not help noticing as i lay there so quietly what great care and attention he gave to his task, seeming as if he thoroughly enjoyed his work, and felt it to be a duty to do it well. at last, though, it was put away to dry, and after carefully washing his hands he came to the hut door very gently to see if i was awake. "ah, nat," he said smiling, "how are you after your long sleep?" "long sleep, uncle!" i cried. "is it very late?" "nearly noon, my boy. well, how are you?" "i--i think i'm quite well, thank you, uncle," i said, springing up, and feeling ashamed to be lying there, but turning so giddy that i should have fallen had uncle dick not caught my arm. "sit down," he said quietly. "there, that is better." "yes; i feel better now," i said. "to be sure you do. well, nat, i think we have beaten the fever. you will feel weak for a day or two, but you will soon be all right." and so it proved. for after two or three days of weakness, and a strange weary feeling that was quite new to me, i rapidly got better and felt no more dread of being alone at night; in fact i slept soundly as could be, and got up ready and fresh for any new work. uncle dick was very kind, for until i was stronger he contented himself with shooting just about the hut, finding plenty of beautiful birds; but as soon as i was strong enough we prepared some cold provisions and started off for a longer exploration. ebo was delighted, and capered about in the excess of his joy, chattering in his own tongue and introducing every english word he had picked up, and these began now to be a good many; but he had very little idea of putting them to a proper use, muddling them up terribly, but keeping in the most perfect humour no matter how we laughed at him. "it is my belief, nat," said uncle dick, "that we shall find something better worthy of our notice yet if we make a good long expedition into the more wooded parts of the island." "i thought we could not be better off, uncle," i said, "for we are getting some lovely birds." "so we are, nat; but one is never satisfied, and always wants more. i expect we shall find some birds of paradise, for it strikes me that the cry i have heard several times at daybreak comes from one of them." "birds of paradise! here, uncle?" i cried. "why not, my boy? it is as likely a place as it is possible to imagine: an island near the equator, deeply wooded, and hardly ever visited by man. i should say that we must find some here." "oh, uncle!" i cried as my eyes glistened, and i felt my cheeks flush at the anticipation of seeing one of these noble birds before the muzzle of my gun. "i shall be greatly disappointed if we do not find some, and i should have been in search of them before now, only i thought you would like to go, and there was plenty of work close home." i did not say much, but i felt very grateful at his thoughtfulness, and the very next morning we were off before it was day, tramping through the thick herbage and mounting the rising ground towards the south. "i purpose trying to get right across the island to-day, nat," he said, "and if we are too tired to get back all the way we must contrive enough shelter and camp out for one night in the woods." "i shall not mind, uncle," i said, and on we went. this time we had provided ourselves with light small baskets, such as we could swing from a cord that passed over our right shoulders, and long and deep enough to hold a good many specimens. we all three bore these, ebo's being double the size of ours, as he had no gun to use, but trotted easily by our side with his spear over his shoulder. before we had gone two miles several lovely birds had fallen to our guns, principally of the thrush family, for our way was amongst bushes on the rising ground. it is impossible to describe properly the beauty of these lovely softly-feathered objects. fancy a bird of the size of our thrush but with a shorter tail, and instead of being olive-green and speckled with brown, think of it as having a jetty head striped with blue and brown, and its body a blending of buff, pale greyish blue, crimson, and black. we kept on, taking our prizes from the baskets, where they lay in cotton-wool, to examine and admire them again and again. no sooner had we feasted our eyes upon these birds than something as bright of colour fell to our guns. now it would be a golden oriole or some glittering sun-bird. then a beautiful cuckoo with crimson breast and cinnamon-brown back. then some beautifully painted paroquet with a delicate long taper tail; and we were in the act of examining one of these birds, when, as we paused on the edge of a forest of great trees by which we had been skirting, my uncle grasped my arm, for, sounding hollow, echoing, and strange, there rang out a loud harsh cry: "_quauk-quauk-quauk! qwok-qwok-qwok_!" this was answered from a distance here and there, as if there were several of the birds, if they were birds, scattered about the forest. "there, nat," said my uncle; "do you hear that?" "yes," i said, laughing. "i could hear it plainly enough, uncle. what was it made by--some kind of crow?" "yes, nat, some kind of crow." "are they worth trying to shoot, uncle?" i asked. "yes," he said with a peculiar smile; and then, as the cry rang out again, apparently nearer, he signified to ebo that he should try and guide us in the direction of the sounds. the black understood him well enough, and taking the lead he went on swiftly through the twilight of the forest, for it was easy walking here beneath the vast trees, where nothing grew but fungi and a few pallid-looking little plants. and so we went on and on, with the trees seeming to get taller and taller, and of mightier girth. now and then we caught a glimpse of the blue sky, but only seldom, the dense foliage forming a complete screen. every now and then we could hear the hoarse harsh cry; but though we went on and on for a tremendous distance, we seemed to get no nearer, till all at once ebo stopped short, there was the hoarse cry just overhead, and i saw something sweep through the great branches a hundred and fifty feet away. i had not time to fire, for my uncle's gun made the forest echo, though nothing fell. "i missed it, nat," he said, "for the branches were in my way; but i thought i would not let the slightest chance go by." "what was it, uncle?" i said. "one of your crows," he replied, laughing; and ebo went on again. just then my uncle glanced at his compass, and saw that we were travelling in the right direction--due south--so it did not matter how far we went; but though we kept hearing the cries of the crow-birds, as i eventually called them, we saw no more, and felt disappointed for a time, but not for long; there were too many fresh objects for our notice. at last daylight appeared ahead, and we came out from amongst the trunks, which had risen up on every side of us like pillars, into a beautiful open valley dotted with trees, some of which were green with luxuriant branches right to the ground. we did not spend many moments gazing at the beautiful landscape, so lovely that i half expected to see houses there, and that it was the result of clever gardening; but it was nature's own work, and in every tree there were so many birds, and of such lovely kinds, that we seemed to have come to the very place of all in the world to make our collection. "there, nat, look!" said my uncle, pointing to where, in the full sunshine, a great bird with a train of soft amber plumage flew across the opening, to disappear amongst the trees; "there goes one of your crows." "that lovely buff bird, uncle?" i said; "why, it looked like what i should think a bird of paradise would be." "and that's what it was, undoubtedly, nat," he said, "though i never before saw one on the wing." "but you said crow, uncle," i said. "oh! of course, you said the birds of paradise belonged to the crow family. i wish you could have shot it." "it would have required a rifle to hit it at that distance, nat; but wait a bit. we have learned one thing, and that is the fact that we have birds of paradise here, and that satisfies me that we cannot do better than keep to our present quarters. this place exceeds my highest hopes for a collecting ground. there, look at that bird by the great hollow-looking tree." "i was looking at it, uncle. it is one of those great birds with the big bill and a thing upon it like a deck-house." "yes," said my uncle, "and there is something more. look, ebo has gone on. he seems to understand by our looks when he cannot make out our words." for ebo had trotted forward towards the tree that had taken our attention, where the great hornbill had flown to a dead trunk some ten-feet from the ground, and then flapped away. chapter thirty. a curious married couple. as ebo reached the tree he turned back to us laughing and pointing with his spear, and then signed to us to come, though even when we were close up to him i could see nothing but a tiny hole in the trunk of the great tree. "it can't be a nest, uncle," i said, "because it is not big enough. perhaps it is a wild bees' hive." "i don't know yet," said my uncle. "i'm like you, nat, a little bit puzzled. if it were not so small i should say it was a nest from the way that great hornbill keeps flapping about and screeching." "shall i shoot it, uncle?" i said eagerly. "well, no, nat, i hardly like to do that. if it is as i think, it would be too cruel, for we should be starving the young, and it will be easy to get a specimen of a hornbill if we want one, though really it is such a common bird that it is hardly worth carriage as a skin." just then, to show us, ebo began to poke at the hole with the point of his spear, and we saw the point of a bill suddenly pop out and dart in again, while the great hornbill shrieked and shouted, for i can call it nothing else, so queerly sounded its voice. "why, it can't be the hornbill's nest, uncle!" i said. "look how small it is." "yes, it is small, but it is the hornbill's nest after all," said my uncle, as ebo kept on poking at the hole and bringing down pieces of what seemed to be clay. then, seeing how interested we were, he took off his basket, lay down his spear, and taking a hatchet from his waistband cut a few nicks for his toes, and began to climb up, the big hornbill screeching horribly the while, till ebo was level with the hole, from out of which the end of a bill kept on peeping. then the hornbill flew off and ebo began to chop away a large quantity of dry clay till quite a large hole was opened, showing the original way into the hollow tree; and now, after a great deal of hoarse shrieking the black got hold of the great bird that was inside, having quite a fight before he could drag it out by the legs, and then dropping with it, flapping its great wings, to the ground. "undoubtedly the female hornbill," said my uncle. "how singular! the male bird must have plastered her up there and fed her while she has been sitting. that was what we saw, nat." "then there must be eggs, uncle," i cried, with my old bird-nesting propensities coming to the front. but ebo was already up the tree again as soon as he had rid himself of the great screaming bird, and in place of bringing down any eggs he leaped back to the earth with a young hornbill, as curious a creature as it is possible to imagine. it was like a clear leather bag or bladder full of something warm and soft, and with the most comical head, legs, and wings, a good-sized soft beak, a few blue stumps of feathers to represent the tail, and nothing else. it was, so to speak, a horribly naked skin of soft jelly with staring eyes, and it kept on gaping helplessly for more food, when it was evidently now as full as could be. "are there more birds?" said uncle dick pointing to the hole; but ebo shook his head, running up, thrusting in his hand, and coming down again. "very curious, nat," said my uncle. "the male bird evidently shuts his wife up after she has laid an egg, to protect her from other birds and perhaps monkeys till she has hatched, and then he goes on feeding her and her young one." "and well too, uncle; he is as fat as butter." "feeding both well till the young one is fit to fly." "which won't be yet, uncle, for he hasn't a feather." "no, my boy. well, what shall we do with them?" said my uncle, still holding the screeching mother, while i nursed the soft warm bird baby, her daughter or son. "let's put the little--no, i mean the big one back, uncle," i said, laughing. "just what i was thinking. climb up and do it." i easily climbed to the nest and was glad to get the young bird in again without cracking its skin, which seemed so tender; and no sooner had i rolled it softly in and climbed down than my uncle let the mother go, and so strong was her love of her young that she immediately flew to the hole and crept in, croaking and screaming in an uneasy, angry way, as if she was scolding us for interfering with her little one, while from a distance amongst the trees the cock bird kept on answering her with the noisiest and most discordant cries. every now and then it came into sight, flying heavily across the openings between the trees, its great cream-coloured, clumsy-looking bill shining and looking bright in the sun, while the cries it uttered tempted one to put one's fingers into one's ears. and all the time the hen bird inside the tree kept answering it peevishly, as much as to say, look here: what a shame it is! why don't you come and drive these people away? "this is one of the most singular facts in natural history that i have met with," said uncle dick, who was still gazing curiously up at the tree and watching the female hornbill's head as she kept shuffling herself about uneasily, and seemed to object to so much light. "i think i know what it is, uncle," i said, laughing. "do you, nat," he replied. "well, you are cleverer than i am if you do know. well, why is it?" "the hen hornbill must be like uncle joe's little bantam, who never would sit till she was shut up in the dark, and that's why mr hornbill fastened up his wife." my uncle laughed, and then, to ebo's great delight, for he had been fidgeting about and wondering why it was that we stopped so long, we continued our journey in search of the birds of paradise, whose cries could be heard at a distance every now and then. but though we kept on following the sounds we seemed to get no nearer, and to make matters worse, so as not to scare them uncle said it would be better not to fire, with the consequence that we missed shooting some very beautiful birds that flitted from tree to tree. "we must give up the birds of paradise to-day, nat," said my uncle at last. "i see it is of no use to follow them; they are too shy." "then how are we to get any?" i said in a disappointed tone; for we had been walking for some hours now and i was tired. "lie in wait for them, nat," he replied smiling. "but come, we'll try and shoot a few birds for food now and have a good dinner. you will feel all the more ready then for a fresh walk." by means of a little pantomime we made ebo understand what we wanted, and in a very little while he had taken us to where the great pigeons thronged the trees, many being below feeding on a kind of nut which had fallen in great profusion from a lofty kind of palm. if we had wanted a hundred times as many of the big pigeons we could easily have shot them, they were so little used to attack; but we only brought down a sufficiency for our present wants, and as soon as ebo understood that these birds were not to be skinned but plucked for eating, he quickly had a good fire blazing and worked away stripping the feathers off so that they dropped on the fire and were consumed. the plumage was so beautiful that it seemed to be like so much wanton destruction to throw it away, and i could not help thinking what delight it would have given me before i had seen uncle dick's collection, to have been the possessor of one of these noble birds. but as my uncle very reasonably said, we should have required a little army of porters to carry our chests, and then a whole vessel to take them home, if we were to preserve every specimen we shot. we could only save the finest specimens; the rest must go for food; and of course we would only, after we had obtained a sufficiency of a particular kind, shoot those that we required for the table. ebo was invaluable in preparing fires and food for cooking, and upon this occasion, as he placed the birds on sticks close to the hot blaze, i watched him with no little interest, longing as i did to begin the feast. but birds take time to cook, and instead of watching impatiently for them to be ready, i saw that uncle dick had taken his gun down a narrow little glade between two rows of trees growing so regularly that they seemed to have been planted by a gardener. but no gardener had ever worked here, and as i overtook my uncle he began to talk of how singular it was that so beautiful a place should be without inhabitants. "the soil must be rich, nat, to produce such glorious trees and shrubs. look at the beauty of what flowers there are, and the herbage, nat. the place is a perfect paradise." "and do you feel sure, uncle, that there are no savages here?" "none but ourselves, nat," said my uncle, laughing. "well, but we are not savages, uncle," i said. "that is a matter of opinion, my boy. i'm afraid the birds here, if they can think about such things, would be very much disposed to look upon us as savages for intruding upon their beautiful domain to shoot one here and one there for our own selfish purposes." "oh! but birds can't think, uncle," i said. "how do you know?" well, of course i did not know, and could produce no argument in support of my case. so i looked up at him at last in a puzzled way and saw that he was smiling. "you can't answer that question, nat," he said. "it is one of the matters that science sees no way of compassing. still, i feel certain that birds have a good deal of sense." "but you don't think they can talk to one another, do you, uncle?" "no, it cannot be called talking; but they have certain ways of communicating one with the other, as anyone who has taken notice of domestic fowls can see. what is more familiar than the old hen's cry to her chickens when she has found something eatable? and then there is the curious call uttered by all fowls when any large bird that they think is a bird of prey flies over them." "oh! yes, i've heard that, uncle," i said. "i remember an old hen uttering that peculiar warning note one day in a field, nat, and immediately every chicken feeding near hurried off under the hedges and trees, or thrust their heads into tufts of grass to hide themselves from the hawk." "that seems to show, uncle, that they do understand." "yes, they certainly comprehend a certain number of cries, and it is a sort of natural language that they have learned for their preservation." "i know too about the chickens, uncle," i said. "sometimes they go about uttering a little soft twittering noise as if they were happy and contented; but if they lose sight of their mother they pipe and cry and stand on their toes, staring about them as if they were in the greatest of trouble." "i think i can tell you another curious little thing about fowls too, and their way of communicating one with the other. many years ago, nat, i had a fancy for keeping some very large fine dorking fowls, and very interesting i found it letting the hens sit and then taking care of their chickens." "but how is it, uncle," i said, interrupting him, "that a tiny, tender chicken can so easily chip a hole in an egg-shell, as they do when they are nearly ready to come out?" "because, for one reason, the egg-shell has become very brittle, and all the glutinous, adhesive matter has dried away from the lime; the other reason is, that the pressure of the bird's beak alone is sufficient to do it, because the pressure comes from within. there is a wonderful strength in an egg, nat, if the pressure is from without; it will bear enormous weight from without, for one particle supports another, and in reason the pressure adds to the strength. the slightest touch, however, is sufficient to break a way out from within. i'll be bound to say you have often hammered an egg with a spoon and been surprised to find how hard it is." "yes, uncle, often," i said. "well, but to go on with my story, nat. one day a favourite hen had eleven beautiful little yellow downy chickens, and for the fun of the thing i took one soft little thing out of the nest and carried it into the yard, where the great cock was strutting about with his sickle-feathered green tail glistening in the sun, and, putting down the tiny yellow ball of down, i drew back, calling the old cock the while. "he ran up, thinking it was something to eat; but as soon as he reached the helpless little chick he stopped short, bent his head down, looked at it first with one eye, then with the other, and seemed lost in meditation. "`come, papa,' i said, `what do you think of your little one?' "still he kept on staring intently at the little thing till it began to cry `_peek, peek, peek_' in a most dismal tone, for it was very cold, and then the old cock, who had been looking very important and big, suddenly began to cry `_took, took, took_', just like a hen, and softly crouched down, spreading his wings a little for the chick to creep under him and get warm, and no doubt he would have taken care of that chicken and brought it up if i had not taken it back to the hen. "but look! we are talking about barn-door fowls and losing chances to get lovely specimens of foreign birds and--what's that?" for just then a shrill wild call rang down the lovely glade, and i thought that uncle dick was wrong, and savages were near. chapter thirty one. lost in the forest. there was no occasion for alarm, the cry only coming from ebo, who, as soon as he saw us, began making frantic signs to us to come. "that means the pigeons are cooked, nat," said my uncle, laughing; and this was the case, for, as soon as he saw us, the black came running up gesticulating and pointing behind him in the direction of the fire, where the delicious birds were waiting for us to eat. those were delightful meals that we had out in the shade of some grand wide-spreading tree, in whose branches every now and then a parrot would come shrieking, to be followed by others; and as we ate our dinner so would they busily find and eat theirs, hanging by their legs, perhaps head downwards, or perching on one leg and using the other with its soft clasping yoke toes like a hand to convey the food towards its beak. i never felt tired of watching the parrots and paroquets, for besides their beauty of plumage of all kinds of soft tints of green, brightened with orange and scarlet and blue, they always looked such plump and delicately feathered birds. i have seen hundreds of them stuffed, and have admired the bird-mounters' skill, but they never get anywhere near nature and the soft and downy beauty of a bird in its native state. the wonder to me was that they could keep themselves so prim, and with every feather in such perfect order. the paroquets, for instance, had the central feathers of their tail so long and thin and delicate, that it seemed that, flitting and climbing about the trees so much, they must get them broken, but they apparently never did, except when they were damaged by our shot. it was the same with the lovely racket-tailed kingfishers and the fly-catchers, some of which had tails double the length of their own bodies, and of a delicacy that was beautiful in the extreme. but i must go back to the rest of our adventures that day, for as soon as we had dined and had a rest, uncle dick signed to ebo that he should make a rough hut beneath this tree, ready for our sleeping that night, and leaving him industriously at work, we started off together to try and explore a little more of the island. going as straight as we could, we were not very long before, from a bit of a hill, we could see the blue waters of the ocean spreading far and wide, and soon after we made out the great rollers falling over upon the sands, which spread right and left, of a dazzling whiteness, being composed entirely of powdered-up coral and madrepore. there was no need, my uncle said, to go farther that day, for we had found out that it was no great distance across the island; the thing now was to discover its length. "it seems a foolish thing to do, perhaps, nat," said my uncle, "but i should very much like to try a little more exploration to-day. i don't think we will shoot any more birds, but examine the land instead, so as to be a little at home with its shape, ready for making a trip here and there in the future. we shall be able to mark down good spots, too, for finding specimens in the future." "but shall you stay here long, uncle?" i asked. "that i cannot answer, nat," he replied, as we shouldered our guns and trudged on. "it all depends upon the number of specimens we find, and so far it seems to me that we might travel far before we hit again upon such a wild paradise." "i wonder how uncle joe would like to live here!" i said laughing. "what a garden he might have, and how things would grow! oh, how i should like to help him build the house and get the garden in order!" "your uncle joe would be happy anywhere, nat," said my uncle. "he is one of those contented amiable men who are always at rest; but i'm afraid your aunt sophia would soon find it dull, and be grumbling because there was no gas, no pavement, no waterworks, no omnibuses, no cabs, no railroads. no, nat, my boy, your aunt sophia would be miserable here." "and yet it is such a lovely place," i cried enthusiastically. "everything is so beautiful. oh! uncle, i could stay here forever." "no, nat, you could not," he replied laughing; "but it is very beautiful all the same. i have travelled a great deal, and have seen some wonderful scenery, but i have never met with so much beauty condensed in so small a space." we kept on walking, but it was only to stop every now and then before some fresh find--sometimes it would be a curiously-shaped orchid, or a pitcher-plant half full of dead insects. then some great forest tree full of sweet-scented blossoms, and alive with birds and insects, would arrest our attention; or down in some moist hollow, where a tiny stream trickled from the rocks, there would be enormous tree-ferns springing up twelve or fifteen feet above us, and spreading their beautiful fronds like so much glorious green lace against the sky. a fern is always a beautiful object, but these tree-ferns were more than beautiful--they were grand. the farther we went the more beauties we found, and we kept on noting down places to visit again where there were palm and other trees full of fruit, which evidently formed the larder of various kinds of beautiful birds. we could have shot enough in that walk to have kept us busy making skins for days, but we kept to the determination my uncle had made, not to shoot any more that day, except once, when the curious hoarse cry of some bird of paradise, answered by others at a distance, tempted us away. "birds of paradise are exceptions, nat," said my uncle, smiling. "we must get them when we can." i immediately seemed to see the beautiful bird flying amongst the trees, with its lovely buff plumes trailing behind like so much live sunshine, and glancing once at my gun to see that the cartridges were in all right, i crept cautiously on amongst the trees on one side as uncle dick made a bit of a curve round in another, so that we had a good many great forest trees between us, whose foliage we carefully watched as we went cautiously on. every now and then, after a silence that made us think that our labour was all in vain, and we were about to give up, the loud harsh cry would come echoing from amongst the trees, and always seeming so near that i thought i must get a shot at the bird in a moment or two, and i bent down and crept on as quietly as i could, till the tree from which the sound seemed to come was reached. then i would stand ready to fire, watching carefully for a shot, peering amongst the boughs, and fancying a dozen times over that i could catch glimpses of the bird amongst the leaves, when, as if laughing at me for my pains, the cry would come again from a couple of hundred yards away, and the chase went on. i did not shout to uncle dick, for by stopping to listen now and then i could hear the rustling of the leaves and twigs as he went on, besides every now and then catching through the dim light a glimpse of his face. once or twice, when a beautiful bird sprang up between us, my heart began to beat more quickly, for i thought that if uncle was tempted to shoot at it he might hit me; but by degrees i grew more confident and walked boldly on, feeling that i had nothing to fear. that bird must have led us for miles. every time we were ready to give up, the hoarse cry rang out again, and we followed once more, feeling sure that sooner or later we must get a shot at it, or at one of the others which kept answering from a distance; but at last i heard a peculiar whistle from where my uncle would be, and i forced my way through the undergrowth and joined him. "nat," he said, wiping the perspiration from his face, "that must have been a wild-goose instead of a bird of paradise. have you heard it lately?" "no, uncle; not for quite a quarter of an hour. i think it must have taken a longer flight this time." "_yawk, yawk--wok, wok, wok, wok, wok_," rang out close behind us, and we both fired simultaneously at a faint gleam of what seemed to be yellow light as it flitted through the glade, running forward to get beyond the smoke in the hope that we might have hit it. but even if we had we should not have been able to find it, for in the eagerness of our pursuit we had come now into one of the densest parts of the forest that we had found, and after wandering on through a faint warm glow caused by the setting sun shining through the tree trunks, a sudden dull greyness had come upon us, followed almost at once by darkness, and we knew that we were lost. "i ought to have known better, nat," said my uncle, with an exclamation of impatience. "i have not the most remote idea where our camp is, and ebo will be expecting us back." "oh! never mind, uncle," i said; "let's have a try. i dare say we can find the way back." "my dear boy, it would be sheer folly," he replied. "how is it possible? we are tired out now, and it would be only exhausting ourselves for nothing, and getting a touch of fever, to go striving on through the night." "what are we to do then, uncle?" "do, my boy? do as adam did, make ourselves as comfortable as we can beneath a tree. we can do better, for we can cut some wood and leaves to make ourselves a shelter." "what, build a hut, uncle?" i said in dismay; for i was now beginning to find out how tired i really was. "no; we won't take all that trouble; but what we do we must do quickly. come along." i followed him up a slope to where the ground seemed to be a trifle more open and the trees larger, and as we forced our way on my uncle drew his great hunting-knife and chopped down a straight young sapling, which, upon being topped and trimmed, made a ten-feet pole about as thick as my arm was then. this he fixed by resting one end in the fork of a tree and tying the other to a branch about five feet from the ground. "now then, nat," he cried, "get your big sheath-knife to work and clear the ground here. does it seem dry?" "yes, uncle, quite," i said. "well, then, you chop off plenty of soft twigs and leaves and lay them thickly for a bed, while i make a roof over it." we worked with a will, i for my part finding plenty of tree-ferns, whose fronds did capitally, and uncle dick soon had laid sloping against the pole a sufficiency of leafy branches to form an ample shelter against the wind and rain should either come. "so far, so good, nat," he said; "now are you very hungry?" "i'm more tired than hungry, uncle," i said. "then i think we will light a fire and then have as good a night's rest as we can." there was no difficulty in getting plenty of dried wood together, and after a few failures this began to blaze merrily, lighting up the leaves of the trees with a rich red glow; and when it was at its height setting a good many birds flitting about in the strange glow, so that we could have procured more specimens here. but after sitting talking by the fire for some time we crept in under our leafy shed, and it seemed to me that no sooner had i stretched myself out than i fell fast asleep. chapter thirty two. another night horror. i had no idea how long i had been asleep when all at once i started into wakefulness, feeling that we were in danger. i did not know what the danger might be, but that there was something about to happen i was sure. it was very dark in our narrow shed, and nearly dark out beyond our feet, only that a faint glow from our fire made one or two tree trunks stand out like dark sentinels just on the other side. my uncle was so near that i could have wakened him by just moving one hand, but remembering that other night i shrank from wakening him without cause. "i've got another fever fit coming on," i said to myself; but all the same i did not feel so, only startled and timid, and to encourage myself i thought that i must have had a bad dream. but no; i could remember no dream. it seemed as if i had sunk at once into a profound sleep from which i had just wakened fancying that we were in danger. then i lay quite still listening to my uncle's breathing, and thinking how helpless and unprotected we were out in that wild place, not even having ebo with us now. but what was there to fear, i asked myself as i recalled my uncle's words, that he was certain there were no wild beasts in such an island as this, and there were no other inhabitants than ourselves. yes, i could think of all this, and it ought to have made me more comfortable; but no, there was still that curious feeling of being in danger, and i felt as certain as if i could see it, that something was coming to attack us. then as i could neither see nor hear anything i began once more to conclude that i must be suffering from another attack of fever, and i lifted my hand to awaken my uncle, so that he might give me some quinine again. then i recollected that the medicine was in one of our boxes right away from where we were, for we were lost in the forest, and it would be impossible to move until the sun was up once more. so there i lay till another change came over me, and i once more felt sure that it was not fever again. i knew it was not, and this time there was no mistake-- something was coming through the forest, though what it was i could not tell. should i waken my uncle? i raised my hand again and again, but always lowered it once more, so fearful was i of being ridiculed; and then i lay thinking that although uncle had said with such certainty that there were neither inhabitants nor wild beasts, there was plenty of room for either to hide away in these forests; and besides, should there be no regular inhabitants, some might have come by canoe from one or other of the islands. and, yes, i was sure of it, they must have seen our fire, and were creeping up to kill us where we lay. this was a very pretty theory; but would not they make some noise as they came, and if so, where was that noise? i lay perfectly still with the perspiration oozing out of me and my horror increasing, but still there was no noise. yes, there was--a low rustling sound as of some one creeping through the bushes towards us. there could be no mistaking that sound, it was just the same as i had been hearing all the afternoon as we crept cautiously on in search of the birds of paradise. i listened and tried to pierce the darkness with my eyes, but only just about the embers of the fire was anything visible, where the tree trunks stood all like sentries. then the noise ceased and i was ready to believe that i had made a mistake. no, there it was again, and certainly much nearer. should i wake uncle dick, or should i try to be brave enough to deal with the danger myself? i was horribly frightened and sadly wanted him to give me his help and counsel; but as i was not sure, in spite of my feelings, that there really was danger, i fought hard with my cowardice and determined to act as seemed best. cautiously reaching out my hand i took hold of my gun, and by pressing my finger on each trigger in turn, i cocked it silently, and raising myself on one elbow waited for the danger to come. the sounds stopped several times, but were always resumed, and the more i listened the more certain i felt that some big animal was creeping up with great caution towards the fire, though i felt that that animal might be a man. i would have given anything to have been able to sit up in an easier position; but i could only have done so by making a noise and perhaps waking uncle dick for nothing. so i remained as i was, watching with eyes and ears upon the strain, the barrel of my gun towards the opening in our leafy shed and well covering the fire; and so minute after minute went by, with the sensation more and more strongly upon me of the near presence of some creature, one which i each moment expected to see cross the faint glow of the fire. then all was still, and though i listened so intently i could hear nothing but my uncle's breathing. so still did everything become that i began to feel less oppression at my chest, and ready to believe that it was all fancy, when suddenly the embers of the fire seemed to have fallen a little together, for the glow grew stronger and there was a faint flicker which made my heart give one great bound. for there, between me and the fire, was what appeared to be the monstrous figure of an orang-outang, which had crawled close up to the fire and was looking at it. the creature was on all-fours and had its back to me, while the darkness of the night prevented me from making it out properly; but it looked to me very large and dark coloured, and i had read that the strength of these creatures was enormous. it crouched there about five yards from where i lay, and as i wondered whether i had better shoot, i suddenly recollected that both barrels of my gun were loaded with small shot, and that at such a distance, though the shot would well hang together, they were not certain to make a mortal wound; while the result would be that the monster would be more fierce and terrible than it was before. i don't think i was afraid to fire, but i hesitated, and as i waited i felt that there was a possibility of the animal not being aware of our presence, for it was evidently the fire that had attracted it. but these hopes came to an end directly, and i raised my gun softly to my shoulder, for the creature seemed about to crawl towards me. this was only for a moment or two though, and then there was a peculiar scratching noise as if the monster was tearing at the bushes, and i could dimly see its great back waving to and fro. then all at once the scratching ceased, and it seemed to have thrown some twigs and leaves upon the fire, which blazed up, and my gun nearly fell from my hand. "ebo!" i shouted; and as my uncle sprang up and we crept out into the ruddy light spread by the burning wood, there was my monster in the shape of our trusty follower, dancing about like mad, and chattering away as he pointed to the fire, then to himself, then to a distance, and seemed to be trying to make us understand that he had seen the fire and tracked us by its light to where we were. his delight seemed to know no bounds, for whenever he came to a pause in his performance and stood grinning at us, he broke out again, leaping about, running away, coming back, and shouting and laughing as he slapped himself loudly with his hands. i can compare his conduct to nothing but that of a dog who has just found his master. the question now arose what was to be done, and by a good deal of sign-- making we asked ebo to lead us back to the camp; but he shook his head and stamped and frowned, and to cut the matter short threw some more wood on the fire, pushed us both into our leaf tent, lay down across the front, and went to sleep. chapter thirty three. my earthquake. i said very little to my uncle about my alarm, feeling sure that he would laugh very heartily at my mistake, but i lay awake for some little while thinking that it was time i grew to be more manly and brave, and not so ready to be frightened at everything i could not directly understand. it seemed so shocking, too, for i might in my cowardly fear have shot poor ebo, who was one of the best and truest of fellows, and seemed never so happy as when able to do something for me. my last thoughts before i went to sleep were that i hoped i might grow into a brave and true man, and i determined to try hard not to be such a weak coward. i have often thought since, though, that if any ordinary man had been placed in the same situation he would have been as nervous as i; for to awake out of a deep sleep in a dark forest in a wild land, where dangerous beasts might be lurking, to hear a peculiar rustling noise, and through the faint light to make out the figure of the black, looking big and indistinct as he crept on all-fours, was, to put it as you may, very startling. i was ready enough to laugh at all the dread when i awoke in the morning to find the sun just up, and sending his rays through the long vistas of trees, where the birds were whistling, twittering, and screaming loudly, while every now and then from a distance came the hoarse cry of the birds of paradise. "it is terribly tempting, nat," said my uncle, "but i think we had better make straight for camp and get a good breakfast before we do anything else. hallo! what is ebo doing?" "making up the fire," i said; and directly the black had thrown on a great armful of dead wood he came to us laughing and rubbing the front of his person, squeezing himself in to show how empty he was, after which he picked up a stick, took aim at a bird, said "_bop_!" and ran to pick it up; coming back laughing for us to applaud his performance. "well, nat, that's a piece of dumb-show that says very plainly we are to shoot some birds for breakfast before we do anything else, and it would perhaps be wise, so come along; there are some of our old friends in that great palm-tree." i followed my uncle closely, and we had no difficulty in shooting three of the great pigeons, which ebo pounced upon and carried off in triumph, and in a few minutes they were roasting upon sticks, while our black cook busied himself in climbing a cocoa-tree, from which he detached half a dozen nuts, each of which came down with a tremendous thud. i was terribly hungry, but uncle dick said we should be worse if we stopped there smelling the roasting pigeons. so we took our guns and went across an opening to where there was tree after tree, rising some thirty or forty feet high, all covered with beautiful white sweet-scented starry flowers, each with a tube running up from it like that of a jasmine. all about this beautiful little birds were flitting, and as we watched them for some time i could see their feathers flash and glitter in the sunshine, as if some wore tiny helmets of burnished gold and breastplates of purple glittering scales. no colours could paint the beauty of these lovely little creatures, which seemed to be of several different kinds, for some had patches of scarlet, of orange, blue, and white to add to the brilliancy of their feathering; and so little used were they to the sight of man that they seemed to pay no attention to us, but allowed us to go very close, so that we could see them flit and hover and balance themselves before the sweet-scented starry bell-flowers, into whose depths they thrust their long thin beaks after the honey and insects that made them their home. i soon learned from my uncle that they were the sun-birds, the tiny little fellows that were in the old world what the humming-birds were in the new, for there are no humming-birds in the east. following uncle dick's example, i took the shot out of my gun, for he said that the concussion and the wad would be sufficient to bring them down. but, somehow, we were so interested in what we saw that neither of us thought of firing, and there we stood watching the glittering feathers, the graceful motions, and the rapidity with which these tiny birds seemed to flash from blossom to blossom, till a loud yell from ebo summoned us to breakfast. "yes, nat," said my uncle, who seemed to read my thoughts, "that is the way to see the beauty of the sun-birds. no stuffed specimens of ours will ever reproduce a hundredth part of their beauty; but people cannot always come from england to see these things. take care! what's that?" we were going through rather a dense patch of undergrowth, where the ground beneath was very soft and full of water, evidently from some boggy springs. there was a great deal of cane and tall grass, with water weeds of a most luxuriant growth, and the place felt hot and steamy as we forced our way through, till, as i was going first and parting the waving canes right and left with my gun barrel, i stepped upon what seemed to be a big branch of a rotten tree that had fallen there, when suddenly i felt myself lifted up a few inches and jerked back, while at the same moment the canes and grass crashed and swayed, and something seemed to be in violent motion. "is it an earthquake, uncle?" i said, looking aghast at the spot from whence had been jerked. "yes, nat, and there it goes. fire, boy, fire!" he took rapid aim a little to the left, where the canes and broad-leaved plants were swaying to and fro in a curious way, just as if, it seemed then, a little pig was rushing through, and following his example i fired in the same direction. but our shots seemed to have no effect, and whatever it was dashed off into a thicker part, where it was too swampy to follow even if we had been so disposed. "your earthquake has got away for the present, nat," said my uncle. "did you see it?" "no, uncle," i said. "but you must have trodden upon it, and it threw you back." "no, uncle; i trod upon the trunk of a small tree, that was all." "you trod upon a large serpent, nat, my boy," he exclaimed. "ugh!" i ejaculated; and i made a jump back on to more solid ground. "the danger has passed now, nat," he said, smiling at my dread; "but really i could not have believed such a creature existed in so small an island." "oh, uncle!" i cried, "i shall never like to go about again for fear of treading upon another." "you will soon get over that, nat, and perhaps we may have the luck to shoot the brute. i don't think we did it much mischief this time, though i got a good sight of it as it glided amongst the canes." "why, we had no shot in our guns, uncle," i cried; "we took them out so as not to knock the sun-birds about too much." "of course!" cried my uncle. "how foolish of me not to remember this!" we had both reloaded now, and then, without heeding a shout from ebo, we stood looking in the direction taken by the reptile, though now all the luxuriant canes and grasses were quite still. "what do you say, nat?" said my uncle. "shall we follow the monster and try and shoot it?" "it must be forty or fifty feet long, uncle," i said, feeling a curious creeping sensation run through me. "forty or fifty nonsenses, my boy!" he said, laughing. "such serpents as that only exist in books. they rarely exceed twenty feet where they are largest. that fellow would not be fifteen. what do you say--will you come?" "ye-es, uncle," i said hesitatingly, feeling hot and cold by turns. "why, nat," he said quietly, "you are afraid!" i did not speak for a moment or two, but felt the hot blood flush into my face as i stood there looking him full in the eyes, and unable to withdraw my gaze. "yes, uncle," i said at last. "i did not want to be, but a serpent is such a horrible thing, and i am afraid." "yes, it is a horrible monster, nat," he said quietly. "i don't like them myself, but if we could kill it--" "i can't help feeling afraid, uncle," i said, "but i'm ready to go on now." "what! to attack it, nat?" "yes, uncle." "it will be rather dangerous, my boy." "yes, uncle," i said. "i suppose so; but i want to get over being so afraid of things. i'm quite ready now." i looked to him to come on at once, but he did not move, and stood looking at me for some minutes without speaking. "then we will go and attack the brute, nat," he said; "but it will not go away from that bit of a swamp, so we will try and put a little more nerve into our hearts with a good breakfast, and then have ebo to help us, unless he proves to be a worse coward than you." "he could not be, uncle," i said pitifully; and i felt very, very miserable. "oh! yes, he could be, nat, my boy," said my uncle, smiling, and grasping me affectionately by the arm. "you are a coward, nat, but you fought with your natural dread, mastered it, and are ready to go and attack that beast. master ebo may be a coward and not fight with and master his dread. so you see the difference, my boy." another shout from the black made us hasten our steps to where he was dancing about and pointing to the crisp brown pigeons, big as chickens, with great green leaves for plates, and the new ripe cocoa-nuts divested of their husks; but for a few moments i could not eat for thinking of the serpent. my fresh young appetite asserted itself though soon after, and, forgetting the danger to come, i made one of the most delicious of meals. chapter thirty four. many feet of unpleasantry. it was only while i was scraping out the last of the delicate cream from the inside of a huge cocoa-nut that i recalled the task we had to come, and a curious shiver ran through me as i glanced in the direction of the swamp where, nearly a mile away, the reptile lay. ebo knew nothing about it as yet, and i hardly conceived how he would be made to understand what we had seen. "do you think he will be ready to help kill the serpent, uncle?" i said, after waiting for some time to see if he would say anything about the attack. "i hardly know, nat," he replied cheerily; "but we'll soon try him. by the way, use the cartridges with the largest kind of shot, for we must make up for this morning's mistakes. here, ebo, we've seen a snake," he said. "ung-kul, nat-mi-boi. hal-lo, hal-lo hal-lo!" replied ebo, laughing merrily, and showing his white teeth. "we shall not get at his understanding like that," said my uncle quietly; and he sat thinking for a moment. "shall i try and draw a snake, uncle?" i said. "to be sure, nat," he replied, laughing; "but where are paper, pencil, or chalk? stop a minute--i have it." we generally carried a stout piece of cord with us, ready for any emergency, and this cord, about ten yards long and a little thicker than clothes-line, my uncle now untwisted from his waist, where he had worn it like a belt, and calling ebo's attention to it he laid it out upon the ground. then holding one end he made it wave about and crawl and curve and twine, ending by knotting it up in a heap and laying the end carefully down as if it were a serpent asleep. ebo watched the process attentively, at first seriously and then as if delighted, clapping his hands, dancing, and chattering away as if telling my uncle how clever he was. "but that does not show him what we want, uncle," i said. "well, then, you try." i took up the rope, made it undulate a little, and then as ebo looked on i gave it a quick twist and wound it round him, pretending to make the end bite. he took to it directly, pretending that the reptile was crushing him, fighting his way free of the folds, picking up his club and attacking it in turn, beating the make-believe head with his club, and finally indulging in a war-dance as he jumped round, dragging the imaginary serpent after him, pretending all the while that it was very heavy, before stooping down to smell it, making a grimace, and then throwing down the rope, which he pretended to bury in the sand. "it's all right, nat. he understands, and has evidently encountered big snakes. now, then, to show him our enemy, for he will fight." my uncle was right, for it was evident that ebo quite understood us and meant fighting, for, sticking his spear in the ground, he made signs to me that i should lend him my hunting-knife, which i at once did, and laughing and chattering away he looked about him a little, and then proceeded to cut down a sapling tree about as thick as his arm, from whose trunk he selected a piece a couple of feet in length and carefully trimmed it into a formidable club with a smooth, small handle, while he left the thick end jagged with the ugly places from which he had cut the branches. he was not long in getting it into shape, and no sooner had he satisfied himself with his work than he returned my hunting-knife, making believe that he was horribly afraid lest it should cut off his head, and then proceeded to attack an imaginary serpent that was trying to escape through the bushes. now he was trying to strike it, now retreating, now making blows at it upon the ground, now in the air, ending by dropping his club and seizing the neck of the creature, which he pretended had coiled round him; now he was down upon one knee, now overthrown and rolling over and over in a fierce struggle; but at last his acting came to a conclusion by his striking the reptile's head against a tree, kicking off an imaginary coil from his leg, and strutting about proudly to show how he had conquered. the most surprising part of the affair was that he did not seem to be in the slightest degree exhausted by his efforts, but picked up his club and began chattering to us, and pointing to the marsh as if asking us to come on. "well, nat," said my uncle, "if he will only fight half as well as that when we encounter the serpent, there ought to be nothing to fear. we ought to master the brute easily." "would such a serpent be very strong, uncle?" i asked. "wonderfully strong," he replied. "their muscles are tremendously powerful. see what strength anything of similar form possesses; an eel, for instance." "yes, uncle," i said thoughtfully, as i recalled how difficult i had once found it to hold a large one that i had caught. "eels are very strong." "look here, nat," said my uncle kindly, "i don't think we should run any risks in following up this serpent, for one good shot would disable it; but still it may be a little perilous, and it is not just to expect a boy of your age to face such a danger. you stop back at a distance, and i will send ebo into the marsh to drive it out, while i try to get a shot at it." "oh, no, uncle!" i said quickly. "come now, my boy," he cried, clapping me on the shoulder. "you are going because you think i shall consider you cowardly if you stay behind. i tell you truly, nat, i shall not." "i did feel something of that kind, uncle," i said warmly; "but that is not all. i want to try and be brave and to master all my cowardly feelings, and this seems such a chance." he stood looking at me for a few minutes, and then said quietly: "very well then, nat, you shall come. but be careful with your gun, and do not fire unless you have a clear shot. don't hurry, and mind that ebo is not near. as to the danger," he said, "there is very little. the worst thing that could happen would be that the serpent might seize you." i could not help a shudder. "coil round you." the shudder felt now was the serpent wrapping me round. "and giving you a severe squeeze," continued my uncle. "it is a hundred to one against its teeth catching you in the face, and it is doubtful whether they would penetrate your clothes, and even if they did you would suffer no worse than from a few thorns, for these constricting reptiles are not poisonous." "it don't sound very nice, uncle," i said, feeling as if my face was showing white through the brown of the sunburns. "no, nat, it does not," he said; "but now i have told you the worst i may as well say something on the other side. now the chances are that the brute will try its best to escape, and be shot in the act; and even supposing that it did seize you, which is no more likely than that it should seize ebo or me, we should immediately get hold of it by the neck and have its head off before it knew where it was." "yes, uncle, i know you would," i said with more confidence and a strange thrill of excitement running through me. "let me come, please." "you shall, nat," he replied; "and now i'll confess to you, my boy, that i should have felt disappointed if you had held back. come along, my lad, and i think we shall soon slay this modern dragon." all this time ebo had been looking at us wonderingly; but no sooner did we examine our guns and start forward, than he shouldered his club and went before us towards the piece of marshy ground. i walked on by uncle's side with my gun ready, and all the time i kept on wondering what he would have said to me if he had known how nervous i felt. the thoughts of what we were approaching seemed to take all the brightness and beauty out of the scene, which was as lovely as could be. strange birds flew by us, glorious trees were on every side, some of them covered with flowers, while the brilliant greens of various shades made up for the want of colour in others. where we were the land seemed to slope down into a little valley, while farther back there was a ridge clothed to its summit with beautiful vegetation. but just then, as the poetical writer said, the trail of the serpent was over it all, and i kept on seeing imaginary reptiles' heads reared above the beautiful waving canes and grasses, and fancied i detected the rustling noise made by the creature's scales as they glided through the dry stems. "now," said my uncle, as we stood at last on the edge of the moist depression, "we must contrive some plan of attack, nat. we must not let the enemy escape, or he will be scaring us all the time we stay." i thought it very kind of him to say _us_ when i know he meant _you_, but i did not say anything, only eagerly searched the thickly-spread canes and broad-leaved plants as far as i could see with my eyes, and then i could not help thinking what a beautiful spot that marsh was in spite of the serpent, as two or three of the lovely pitta thrushes flitted amidst the bamboos, and half a dozen sun-birds darted about a convolvulus-like plant, and kept flashing in the sunshine, which every now and then seemed to make their feathers blaze. "now, nat," said my uncle, "i think this will be a good place for you, by this trickling rill; you see the place is roughly in the shape of a ham, so you shall have the place of honour, my boy, by the knuckle-bone, while i and ebo go round the fat sides and see if we can find the enemy there." "do you think it will come this way, uncle?" i said. "yes, nat, just below you there, so be cool, and give it both your barrels as it goes by. you may depend upon one thing, and that is that the reptile, if it comes down here, will be trying hard to escape. it will not attack you." i hoped uncle dick was right, but could not feel sure, as i remained on the side of the steep slope, at the bottom of which a tiny stream trickled amongst a long patch of luxuriant canes through which i expected the serpent would try to escape to another part of the island. the next minute i was quite alone, for in obedience to my uncle's signs, and eagerly falling into his plans, ebo ran off to get to the back of the little marsh, my uncle also disappearing quietly on my own side, but of course higher up. "perhaps the serpent won't be here after all," i thought to myself as i stood there in the midst of the profound silence; and i could not keep back the hope within me that this might be the case. everything was now very still, only that once from a distance came the hoarse cry of a bird of paradise and the scream of a parrot, but directly after i seemed to detect the peculiar noise made by a hornbill, one of which birds flapped across the little valley towards a clump of trees. not a sound came from beyond the cane swamp, and the slightest grasses hardly moved, but stood there with their feathery plumes bathed in sunshine, while with strained eyes i counted the knots on every light-brown and cream-coloured cane. i was watching for a wavy, undulating movement, which i felt sure must follow if the serpent was there and creeping about; but all was perfectly still. "it must be farther up to the top of the marsh than he thinks," i said to myself; and then i heard a cry which made my blood bound through my veins. but there was nothing the matter; it was only ebo on the move, and i heard my uncle answer him. then there was a beating noise as if the black was thrashing the canes with his club. then my heart seemed to leap to my mouth, for there was a rustling in the tall grasses, something seemed to be forcing its way through, and with my gun at my shoulder i was ready to fire at the first glimpse of the scaly skin, but feathers appeared instead, and a couple of large wading-birds flew out. the beating went on, and bird after bird took flight from its lurking-place, some being very beautiful; but no serpent appeared, and i began to feel more bold. still the beating went on, with ebo shouting from time to time and my uncle answering, till they could not have been more than fifty yards above me, when suddenly the black seemed to change his tone, shouting excitedly to my uncle. "they've found it," i said to myself; and in my excitement i forgot all about my fears, and stood there with my eyes sweeping the cane growth and my ears strained to their utmost. all at once, and so close that the noise made me jump, i heard a shot, followed by a shout from ebo, and a loud crashing noise, as if the canes were being thrashed together with a big stick. bang once more, and then perfect silence, but directly after the thrashing, beating noise began once more, and as i gazed excitedly in that direction i heard my uncle's voice. "look out, nat," he cried. "it's coming your way." "yolly-to, yolly-to!" cried ebo; but i hardly heard him, for, rushing down amongst the reeds and canes, writhing and bounding in the most extraordinary way, beating, whipping the tall leaves, tying itself up in knots and then throwing itself out nearly straight, came what to me seemed to be a most monstrous serpent. i ought to have fired, but as the reptile came towards me i felt as if i must run, and i turned and fled for a dozen yards before shame stopped me, and i faced about. the creature was close at hand, writhing horribly, and leaving behind it a beaten track, as in a fit of desperation i raised my gun, took quick aim, and fired, leaped aside to get away from the smoke, and fired again at something close to me. the next moment i was knocked down, my gun flying out of my hand, and when i struggled up the serpent was gone. "hurt, nat?" cried my uncle, who came running up with ebo, who began to feel me all over. "i don't think i am, uncle," i said angrily; "but the thing gave me a horrible bang." "pick up your gun then and come along, lad. you hit the brute with both barrels, and i know i did once. come along; load as you run." ebo had already gone on in the serpent's track, for after i had been sent over by a blow as the reptile writhed so fiercely, it had straightened itself out, and gone straight down the little valley towards more open ground. "obe-ally-yolly!" shouted ebo, and running after him i found that the serpent was gliding about in a rapid way amongst some tall trees, with the black darting at it and hitting it with his club from time to time, but apparently without making any impression. "stand back, ebo," cried my uncle, waving the black away, and then, as ebo leaped back, preparing to fire. but he lowered his gun as i came up. "no," he said, "you shall give him the _coup de grace_, nat;" and feeling no fear now i finished the loading of my gun and went in among the trees. "fire at its head, nat," cried my uncle; but it was not easy to see it, for the creature kept on twining about in a wonderfully rapid way; but at last i caught it as the head came from behind a tree trunk, fired, and the monster leaped from the ground and fell back in a long straight line, perfectly motionless, till ebo darted in to give it a final thump with his club, when, to my astonishment, the blow seemed to electrify the creature, which drew itself up into a series of waves, and kept on throbbing as it were from end to end. "shall i fire again, uncle?" i said excitedly. "no, nat," he replied; "it would only be slaying the slain. bravo, my boy! you did capitally." "but i ran away at first, uncle," i said sorrowfully. "i did not stop when the serpent first came out." "it was enough to make a saint george run away from such a dragon, nat," he said laughing. "i could not have believed such a serpent existed in these isles. let's see how long he is." "thirty feet, uncle," i cried excitedly. "your eyes magnify this morning, nat," he said merrily. "no, my boy," he continued, after pacing along by the writhing creature's side; "that serpent is barely fourteen feet long, but it is wonderfully thick for its size, and it proves that there must be animals here such as would form its prey." "shall you have it skinned, uncle?" i asked. "yes," he replied, handing his knife to ebo, who readily understood what was wanted, and leaving him to his very nasty job, my uncle and i went in search of birds of paradise. chapter thirty five. another fishing trip. we had a long tramp after the birds of paradise that day, but did not get one. we shot some lovely sun-birds though, and a couple of thrushes such as we had not seen before. our walk took us well in sight of the sea once more, and we began to have a pretty good idea of the form of the island. but the more we went about the more my uncle was satisfied that it was only a matter of time to make here a glorious collection of the birds of the eastern islands. we saw four different kinds of birds of paradise in our walk, though we did not get one on account of their shyness, but we did not despair of getting over that; and at last, well tired out, we returned to ebo, who had hung up the serpent's skin to dry, and following his guidance till nightfall we got back to our hut by the sea-shore, where the boat lay perfectly safe, and being too tired to make a fire and cook, we lay down and fell asleep at once. it was still dark when i was awakened by a hand shaking my arm, and, starting up, there was the black face of ebo bent over me. "ikan-ikan," he kept on repeating. "ikan--fish," said my uncle, starting up. "yes, we may as well get some for a change, nat;" and in a few minutes we were all down on the sand launching the boat, which rode out lightly over the rollers. we had plenty of fishing-lines, so fine that ebo shook his head at them, and proceeded to show us how easily they would break; but after trying over and over again without success, and only cutting his hands, he grinned and jumped up to dance, but evidently thinking there was no room he settled down again and began to examine some hooks and glittering tin baits which we had in a box. these he scanned most carefully as the boat skimmed along, my uncle steering, and after trying the sharpness of the hooks he performed what always seemed to me a conjuring trick, in bringing a couple of mother-of-pearl baits out of his waist-cloth, with a roll of twine. the savages of the east, in fact most of the eastern people, wear a cord round the waist made of a material in accordance with their station. the poorer people will have it of cotton or twisted grass, the wealthier and chiefs of silk, while some have it threaded with gold. this thin cord is used as a support for their waist-cloth, and is rarely taken off, but is fastened so tightly that i have seen it appear completely buried in the flesh, just as if the wearers had an idea that they ought to make themselves look as much like an insect as possible. ebo wore a very tight _lingouti_--as it is called--round and over which he tucked the coarse cotton cloth which formed his only article of attire, and it was by means of this cotton cloth that he performed what i have spoken of as being like conjuring tricks, for somehow or another, although he had the appearance of carrying nothing about with him, he had always a collection of useful articles stored away in the folds of that waist-cloth. upon the present occasion he brought out two mother-of-pearl baits such as would be used to attract the fish when no real bait could be obtained. it was a sight to see ebo comparing his pearl baits with our specimens of tin and tinned copper, and for a time he seemed as if he could hardly make up his mind which was the better. then he laid his coil of line made of roughly twisted grass beside ours, and inspected the two carefully, after which he uttered a sigh and put his own away, evidently quite satisfied that the civilised article was by far the better. we sailed out about a mile and then anchored at the edge of a reef of coral, which acted as a shelter against the great rollers which broke far away upon its edge, seeming to make a ridge of surf, while where we lay all was undulating and calm, but with the tide running strongly over the reef, where the water was not a fathom deep and growing shallower moment by moment. ebo laid his short club ready to his hand, signing to me to draw my big hunting-knife and place it beside me. "that looks as if we were to catch some large and dangerous fish, nat," said my uncle; and he drew his own knife before passing to each of us a line with the artificial baits affixed. "won't you fish, uncle?" i asked. "no, my boy. you two can fish, and as soon as you catch one we will cut him up for bait. i don't believe in artificial bait when you can get real." by this time ebo had thrown out his line and i followed his example, seeing the swift current seize upon the bait and carry it rapidly out over the reef, twinkling and sparkling in the water as i jerked it by paying out more line. all at once, when it was some fifteen yards away. i felt a jerk and a snatch. "i've got one," i said; but the tugging ceased directly, and i felt that the fish had gone. either the same, though, or another seized it directly, for there was a fierce tug which cut my hand, and i had to give line for a few moments while the fish i had hooked darted here and there like lightning, but i had it up to the side soon after, and gazed at it with delight, for it was, as it lay panting in the boat, like a magnificent goldfish, five or six pounds weight, with bars across its side of the most dazzling blue. "poo--chah--chah!" ebo cried with a face full of disgust as he twisted his own line round a peg in the boat, and seizing his club battered the fish to death after unhooking it, and threw it over the side, where, as it was carried away, i could see that dozens of fish were darting at it, tearing it to pieces as fast as they could. "what did you do that for?" i cried angrily, for it seemed wasting a splendid fish. ebo chatted away in reply, almost as angrily, after which, evidently satisfied that i did not understand, he behaved very nastily, though his dumb-show was so comic that it made us roar with laughter. for he pretended to eat, as we supposed, some of the fish. then he jumped up, sat down, jumped up again, rubbed his front, kicked out his legs and shouted, making hideous grimaces as if he were in pain, ending by leaning over the side of the boat, pretending to be horribly sick, and finishing his performance by lying down, turning up his eyes, and moaning. "we must take what he shows us for granted, nat," said my uncle, as ebo jumped up smiling, as much as to say, "wasn't i clever?" "these people know which are the wholesome and which are the unwholesome fish; but i was going to use some of that fellow for bait." just then ebo hooked and brought in a fine fish that was all blue, but even this one would not do, for he killed it and tossed it overboard, chattering at it the while as if he were abusing it for being so bad. we saw scores of fish dart at it as it was thrown in, and now they bit so freely at the artificial baits that there was no occasion to change. i had hold of what seemed a nice fish directly, and after letting it run a little i began hauling in, watching its progress through the shallow clear water and thinking how bright and beautiful it looked against the brilliant corals, the softly waving weeds of every shade of brown and scarlet, while now and then some other fish darted at it. all at once i uttered a cry of astonishment, for a long line of undulating creamy white seemed to dart at my fish, seize it with a jerk, and twist itself round it, till fish and the eel-like creature that attacked it resembled a knot. i kept on hauling in, but only slowly now, for fear the hook should break out, the weight being double what it was and the water lashed into glittering foam. "what is it, uncle?" i cried excitedly. "don't hurry, nat," he replied; and just then ebo, who had been too busy pulling in a fish to notice my line, threw out again, and then fastening his cord came over to my side to see. no sooner did he make out what i had at the end of the line than he seized his club, gesticulated furiously, and began beating the side of the boat, chattering aloud, and signing to me to give him the line. "let him have it, nat," said my uncle. "he has had experience with these things." i gave up my hold of the fishing-line most unwillingly, for the little adventure was intensely exciting, and every jerk and drag made by the creature that had seized my fish sent a thrill through my arms to my very heart. "it is some kind of sea-snake that has taken your fish, nat, and is regularly constricting it. as i told you before, there are some of them dangerously poisonous, and not like our great friend out in the swamp." meanwhile ebo was jerking and shaking the line furiously, as if endeavouring to get rid of the snake, but without avail, for it held on tightly, having evidently got one fold twisted round the line, and i must confess, after hearing about the poisonous nature of these creatures, to feeling rather nervous as to its behaviour if it were brought on board. but ebo did not mean to bring it on board. he wanted to shake it off, and what with the struggles of the fish and the writhing and twisting of the snake, it seemed every moment as if the line must break. the black brought it close in, then let it go almost to the full length of the line, jerked it, made fierce snatches, but all in vain; and at last getting the unwelcome visitor close in, he signed to my uncle to take his knife while he raised his club for a blow, when there was a sudden cessation of the rush, and foam in the water, and fish and snake had gone. ebo grinned with triumph, and after examining the bait threw it out again, returning to the other side directly to draw in a satisfactory fish for our breakfast, while my uncle chatted to me about my last captive. "this is new to me, nat," he said. "i never could have thought that these snakes or eels, for they seem to partake of the character of the latter, would have wound themselves round the prey they seized. the elongated fish in our part of the world, congers, dog-fish, guard-fish, and similar creatures, fasten their teeth into their prey, then setting their bodies in rapid motion like a screw, they regularly cut great pieces out of their victim. this was precisely the same as a serpent with its prey, and it is a natural history fact worth recording. but look!" i had already felt a fish snap at my bait, checked it, and knew that i was fast into a monster. for a few moments he let me feel something heavy and inert at the end of my line, then there was a plunge and a rush, the line went hissing out, and try as i would to check it, the fish ran straight off till i dragged with all my might, and felt that either the line must break or my hands would be terribly cut. "give and take, nat," cried my uncle. "it's all give, uncle, and i can't take a bit." i had hardly said the words when i was at liberty to take in as much as i liked, for the fish was gone, and upon drawing in my line in a terribly disappointed way, it was to find that the fish had completely bitten through the very strong wire gimp, not broken it, but bitten it as cleanly as if it had been done with a knife. "that must have been a monster," said uncle dick. "but never mind, my boy. here, hold still and i'll loop on another bait." he was in the act of doing this when ebo began to dance about in the boat, striving hard to drag in the fish he had hooked. his plan was to haul in as quickly as he could, never giving the fish a moment's rest, and any form of playing the swift, darting creature did not seem to enter his head. he seemed to have found his match this time, for the fish refused to be dragged on board, but after a fierce struggle the black's arms were too much for it, and a dozen rapid hand-over-hand hauls resulted in its being hauled over the side, a sharp-nosed glittering silver-fish about four feet long, and i was about to fling myself upon it to hold it down and stop its frantic leaps amongst our tackle, when ebo uttered a cry of alarm, darted before me, and attacked the fish with his club, dealing it the most furious blow upon the head, but apparently without any effect, for as one of the blows fell, the great fish seemed to make a side dart with its head, and its jaws closed upon the club, holding on so fiercely and with such power that it was not until uncle dick had cut off its head that the club could be wrenched away, when ebo showed me the creature's jaws full of teeth like lancets and pretty well as sharp. "no wonder your wire was bitten through," said my uncle. "hallo! is he not good to eat?" ebo evidently seemed to consider that it was not, for the fish was thrown over, and the fierce monster, that must have been a perfect tyrant of the waters, had not floated a dozen feet before it was furiously attacked and literally hacked to pieces. there was no difficulty in getting fish that morning, the only thing was to avoid hooking monsters that would break or bite through our tackle, and those which were not good for food. the reef literally swarmed with fish, some large, some small, and every now and then we could see the rapid dash of one of the snake-eels as i called them. i saw them regularly leap out of the water sometimes and come down in a knot, twisting and twining about in the most extraordinary way, and at last, so interesting was the clear, shallow water, that we laid aside our lines and leaned over the side gazing down at the fish that flashed about, till the reef was dry, and leaving ebo in the boat we landed to walk about over the shining weeds and coral, picking our way amongst shell-fish of endless variety, some with great heavy shells a couple of feet long, and some so small and delicate that i had to handle them with the greatest delicacy to keep from crushing their tissue-papery shells. i could have stayed there for hours and filled the boat with wonders. there was scarlet and orange coral, so beautiful that i was for bringing away specimens; but uncle dick showed me that it was only the gelatinous covering that was of so lovely a tint, and this, he told me, would soon decay. then there were the brilliantly tinted weeds. there were sea-slugs too, delicacies amongst the chinese under the name of _trepang_, and so many other wonders of the sea that i should have gone on searching amongst the crevices of the sharp coral, if i had not had a sharp warning given to me to make for the boat by the parts that had only been an inch or two deep rapidly increasing to a foot, and my uncle shouting to me to come aboard. it was quite time, for i was some distance from the boat, with the tide flowing in so rapidly that in a few minutes i should have had to swim, and a swim in water swarming with such furious kinds of the finny tribe was anything but tempting. as it was i had to swim a few strokes, and was of course soaked, but my uncle hauled me uninjured into the boat and i little minded the wetting, but laughed at my adventure as we sat over our breakfast and feasted upon frizzled fish to our hearts' content. chapter thirty six. ebo satisfies our wants. it would be tedious if i were to go on describing the almost endless varieties of birds we shot, glowing though they were with rainbow colours, and to keep repeating how we skinned and preserved this sun-bird, that pitta, or trogon, or lovely rose-tinted dove. parrots and cockatoos we found without number, and as we selected only the finest specimens, our collection rapidly increased, so fast, indeed, by steady work, that i began to understand how my uncle had brought so great a number from the west. but still one of the great objects of our visit to this part of the world had not been achieved; we had shot no birds of paradise; and these were scarce things in england at the time of which i write. there were plenty of rough specimens of their plumage worn in ladies' bonnets; but a fair, well-preserved skin was hardly known, those brought to england being roughly dried by the natives; so at last my uncle declared that no more birds should be shot and skinned until we had obtained specimens of some at least of the lovely creatures whose cries we often heard about us, but which tantalisingly kept out of shot. it was a difficult task, but we at last made ebo understand that we must shoot some of these birds, when by his way he seemed to indicate that if we had only told him sooner we might have had as many as we liked. that very day he obtained a good little store of provisions, shouldered his spear, and went off by himself, and we saw no more of him for forty-eight hours, when he came back in the most unconcerned way, just as if he had never been out of sight, and sat down and ate all that we put before him. after that he lay down and went to sleep for some hours, waking up ready to dance around us, chattering vehemently until we had finished the skins we were preserving, when he signed to us to take our guns and to follow him. we obeyed him, but he did not seem satisfied until we had collected some provision as well, when once more he set off, taking us through a part of the island we had not visited before, and, if anything, more beautiful than that we had. it was a long journey he took us, and we could have secured hundreds of brilliantly coloured birds, but we only shot a few large ones, such as we knew to be good food, ready for our halt by the camp fire, for it seemed that we were not to return to our hut that night. over hillsides, down in valleys where tree-ferns sprang up, of the most beautifully laced fronds, great groves of palms and clumps of cocoa-nut trees, some of whose fruit ebo climbed and got for us, and still we went on, avoiding the marshy-looking spots which experience had taught us to be the home of the serpents, which, in very small numbers, inhabited the isle. several times over we looked inquiringly at ebo, but he only smiled and pointed forward, and we followed him till he stopped suddenly and showed us some wood ready for making a fire. here we had a welcome rest and a hearty meal, but he did not let us stay long, hurrying us forward, till, just before sundown, he brought us to a dense patch of forest, with huge trees towering upward and spreading their branches, making an impenetrable shade. "it will be too dark to travel far here to-night, nat," said my uncle. "where does he mean to go? but this ought to be the place for the birds of paradise, nat, if we are to get any." just then ebo stopped, and we found a rough hut of leaves with a bed of fern already waiting for us, this having been part of his work during his prolonged absence. his delight knew no bounds as he saw that we were pleased, and as usual he indulged in a dance, after which he caught us in turn by the arm and tried very hard to explain that the birds of paradise were plentiful here. we were too tired to think about anything much besides sleep, and very gladly crept into our hut, to sleep so soundly without a single thought of serpents or huge apes, that i seemed hardly to have closed my eyes, and felt exceedingly grumpy and indisposed to move when ebo began shaking me to get me up. "all right!" i said, and then, as i lay still with my eyes closed, ebo kept on: "hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok;" and it seemed so stupid of him, but there it was again; "hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok." "come, nat," cried my uncle; "unbutton those eyelids, boy, and get up. don't you hear the birds calling?" "i thought it was ebo, uncle," i said. "oh! i am so sleepy." "never mind the sleepiness, nat. come along and let's see if we cannot get some good specimens." just then i saw ebo's face in the opening, and cutting a yawn right in half i followed my uncle out into the darkness, for though the birds of paradise were calling, there was no sign of day. but if we wished for success i felt that we must get beneath the trees unseen, and, examining my gun, i followed my uncle, who in turn kept close behind ebo. the black went forward very cautiously, and looking very strange and misty in the darkness; but he evidently knew what he was about, going along amongst the great tree trunks without a sound, while we followed as lightly as we could. on all sides we could hear the hoarse cries of the birds, which we felt must be in good numbers, and i felt less sleepiness now in the fresh morning air, and a curious feeling of excitement came over me as i thought of the lovely amber plumes of these birds, and wondered whether i should be fortunate enough to bring one down. all at once ebo stopped beneath an enormous tree, and as we crept up close to its mighty trunk we gazed up into the darkness and could here and there catch a glimpse of a star; in fact, so black was it, that but for the cries of the various birds we heard, it might have been taken for the middle of the night. there was nothing to see but an almost opaque blackness, though now and then i fancied i could make out a great branch crossing above my head. it seemed nonsense to have come, but the loud cry of one of the birds we sought, sounded loudly just then and silenced my doubts. i raised my gun ready for a shot, but could see nothing. just then my uncle whispered with his lips to my ear: "don't make a sound, and don't fire till you have a good chance. look out." the loud quok, quok, quok, was answered from a distance, repeated above our heads, and then there was the whistle of wings plainly heard in the solemn silence of the forest, and all this repeated again overhead till it seemed as if we were just beneath a tree where the birds of paradise met for discussion, like the rooks at home in the elms. but no matter how i strained my eyes i could not distinguish a single bird. the minutes went by, and i longed for the light, for though i knew it would betray our presence, still i might catch sight of one bird and bring it down. but the light did not come, and as my arms ached with holding up my gun i lowered it, and patiently waited with my heart beating heavily, as i listened to the cries that were on the increase. all at once i felt an arm glide over my shoulder, and i could just make out that ebo was pointing upward with his black finger steadily in one direction. i tried to follow it but could see nothing, and i was thinking how much better a savage's sight was than ours, when from out of the darkness there came the hoarse "_hawk, hawk, hawk; quok, quok, quok_," and as the cry seemed to direct my eye, i fancied that i could see something moving slightly at a very great height, bowing and strutting like a pigeon. i looked and looked again and could not see it; then a star that was peeping through the leaves seemed to be suddenly hidden, and there was the movement again. i forgot all about my uncle's orders about not firing until i had a good chance, and taking a steady aim at the dimly seen spot just as the hoarse cry arose once more, i drew the trigger. the flash from my gun seemed to cut the blackness, and the report went echoing away amongst the trees; then there was a sharp rustling noise, and a dull, quick thud, and i was about to spring forward and seek for what i had shot, but ebo's arms closed round me and held me fast. i understood what he meant, and contented myself with reloading my gun, the click of the lock sounding very loud in the silence that had ensued, for the report of my gun had caused a complete cessation of all cries, and i felt that we should get no more shots for some time; but all the same i had heard no rush of wings as of a flock of birds taking flight, and i wondered whether any of them were still in the dense top of the tree. five or ten minutes must have elapsed, and then once more ebo's arm glided over my shoulder and rested there, while i laid my cheek against it, and gazed in quite another direction now till i fancied i saw what he was pointing at, but which looked like nothing but a dark spot high up amongst the twigs; in fact, when i did make it out i felt sure that it was a nest. but i recalled how accurate ebo had been before, and once more taking aim, making it the more careful by leaning my gun barrel against the trunk of the tree, i fired; there was a quick rustle of leaves and twigs, and another dull thud, but no one moved. after a few minutes' waiting ebo pointed out another, whatever it was, for i was still in doubt as to whether these were birds of paradise that i had shot, for the silence had not been broken since i fired first. i took a quicker aim this time and drew the trigger, and once more there was a heavy fall through the branches, and then as if by magic it seemed to be daylight, and i saw several big birds dotted about the tree. uncle dick and i fired together, and then came a rush of wings as another bird fell, the loud cries being repeated from a distance; while ebo, evidently considering that it was of no more use to wait, ran out to pick up the birds. only one bird had fallen when my uncle and i fired together, for i believe i missed; but as ebo and i picked up the result of our expedition here the sun rose, and in the bright light that came between the trees we stood gazing in ecstasy at the lovely creatures. "oh, uncle!" that was all i could say for some time. "i think it ought to be `oh, nat!'" he replied laughing. "why, you young dog, what eyes you have! you got all the luck." "oh no, uncle," i said laughing; "i shot with ebo's eyes." "then next time i'll do the same," he said. "but let's go and shoot some more," i said excitedly. "no, nat, we shall get no more of these to-day. i suppose it will only be by hiding in the darkness beneath the trees they frequent that we shall have any success. they are wonderfully shy, and no wonder when they have such plumage to protect." i suppose most people have seen specimens of the great bird of paradise, but they can have no conception of the beauty of a freshly shot specimen such as were two of those which i brought down. i felt as if i could never tire of gazing at the wonderful tinting of the bird, here of a pale straw yellow with the feathers short and stiff like velvet, there of a rich chocolate with the neck covered with scales of metallic green. their tails seemed to have, in place of centre feathers, a couple of long beautiful curving wires nearly a yard long; but the chief beauty of the birds was the great tuft of plumage which seemed to come out from beneath the wings, light and soft, quite two feet long, and all of a rich golden orange. it seems to me impossible to conceive a more lovely bird, and we took them in triumph to our hut, where we breakfasted, my uncle afterwards carefully making skins of all four. the other two were evidently younger birds, and had not their full plumage, but they were very beautiful and formed a splendid addition to the collection. chapter thirty seven. beauties in plume. our work done, my uncle decided that we should stay here for a couple of days at least, even if we did not afterwards come round to this side of the island, for our good fortune was not yet at an end. in taking a look round, towards mid-day we heard a harsh cry, and by means of a little stalking uncle dick got within shot and brought down a bird that was almost as beautiful as those we shot before daylight. this had shorter plumes of a rich red, but it had two long double curved wires in its tail, and its upper plumage was more plush-like and richer in its colours. the metallic green was more vivid, the golden yellow a colour which was most bright upon its neck and shoulders. almost directly after i shot a big dull brown bird which gave me no satisfaction at all; but uncle dick was delighted, saying that it was the female bird of the kind we had shot, and we decided that it was the red bird of paradise. even then we had not come to the end of our good fortune, for after passing over hundreds of sun-birds, pittas, and trogons, such as we should have been only too glad to meet a short time back, my uncle suddenly raised his gun and fired at what seemed to be, from where i stood, a couple of sturdy-looking starlings. one fell, and uncle dick shouted to me as the second bird came in my direction. i made a quick shot at it just as it was darting among some bushes, and brought it down, and on running to pick it up i found that i had shot something entirely fresh to me. "well done, nat!" cried my uncle. "mine is only the hen bird. what a lovely little creature, to be sure! it is a gem." "what is it, uncle?" i said. "evidently a paradise bird, my boy." it was a curious little short-tailed fellow, but wonderful in its colours; while from the centre of the dumpy tail sprang two wires of about six inches long, which formed two flat spiral curls at the end, and of a most intense green. instead of the long plumes of the birds we shot before--birds three times the size of this--it had under each wing a little tuft of grey, tipped with green, which the bird could set up like tiny tans. the whole of the upper surface was of a rich red, and the under part of a glistening floss-silky or glass-thready white, but relieved here and there with bands and patches of metallic green. there were shades of orange crimson here, and when i add that the bird's legs were of a delicious blue, and its beak of orange yellow like a blackbird's, you can realise how beautiful a creature i had shot. "there, nat," said my uncle, "we will do no more, only carefully preserve the treasures we have got." but hardly had he spoken before he fired again and brought down another bird, which was again a wonder. it seemed about the size of the last, but was entirely different, though sufficiently similar to mark it as a paradise bird. it had nearly as short a tail, with the two central wires crossed, but instead of forming the beautiful curves of the other with the flat disc at the end, these wires ended in a point and curled round so as to form a circle. the prevailing colours were orange, buff, and yellow, but its great peculiarity was a couple of ruffs or capes of feathers hanging from the back of its neck, the upper one of a pale yellow, the lower of a reddish-brown. uncle dick was in as great a state of delight as i, and our pleasure seemed to be reflected upon ebo, who showed his satisfaction at having brought us to the place, by shouldering his spear and striding up and down with one hand upon his hip, as if proud of his position as companion of the white man. the time glided by very fast during our stay at the island, where we found plenty of fruit, as many fish as we liked to catch, and abundance of large pigeons and other birds to help our larder. the climate was hot, but the breezes that came from the sea always seemed to modify the heat and make it bearable. several storms occurred, during which the trees bent before the fury of the blast, and the waves piled the sands high with weeds and shells. the lightning was terrific and the thunder deafening. at times it was awful, and a curious scared feeling used at first to come over me. but i soon grew used to the storms, and as they were soon over, took but little notice of them, except to enjoy the delicious freshness of the air that seemed afterwards to make everything ten times more beautiful than it was before. it would become wearisome if i kept on writing of the beauty of the different varieties of the birds of paradise we found, and the lovely tinting and arrangement of their plumes; let it be sufficient when i tell you that scarcely a day passed without ebo finding some fresh specimen for us to shoot, and then dancing round with the delight of a boy as we skinned and preserved the new treasure. sometimes we had a beetle day, sometimes a butterfly day, collecting the loveliest specimens; but birds formed our principal pursuit, and our cases began to present a goodly aspect as we packed in carefully the well-dried aromatic skins. i had had one or two more slight touches of fever, and my uncle was poorly once, but he so skilfully treated us both that the disease was soon mastered, and the trouble passed over. taken altogether, though, we found the island, in spite of the heat, a most delightful place of residence, and it was with feelings of real regret that i sat in our swift boat one day with the big sail set, skimming over the smooth sea, all our stores on board, and uncle dick at the helm steering due north, for we had bidden the beautiful island farewell, and its shores were beginning to grow distant to our eyes. chapter thirty eight. ebo does not approve of new guinea for reasons that appear. it did not seem to matter to ebo where we went so long as he was with us. he must have been a man of five-and-thirty, and he was brave as a lion--as the lion is said to be in the story, for in reality he is a great sneak--but ebo seemed to have the heart of a boy. he was ready to laugh when i did, and sit by me when i was ill or tired, his face full of sympathy, and no sooner was i better than it was the signal for a triumphal dance. ebo was as happy now as could be. it did not matter to him where we were going, and he laughed and chattered and pointed out the fish to me as we skimmed over the shallow water of the coral reefs, sometimes approaching islands whose names we did not know, and which were apparently too small to be down in the chart; but whatever temptations they might hold out my uncle steered right on due north, and on the evening of the second day there was land stretching east and west as far as we could see. "now, nat," he cried, "where is your geography? what place is that?" "i should say it must be new guinea, uncle," i said. "quite right, my boy. hallo! what's the matter with ebo?" that gentleman had been lying down in the bottom of the boat fast asleep for the past three hours, as he was to sit up and bear me company through a part of the night; but having woke up and caught sight of the land he seemed to have become furious. having been with us now so long, he had picked up a good many words, just as we had picked up a good many of his, so that by their help and signs we got along pretty well. but now it was quite startling to see his excitement. he seemed so agitated that he could only recollect the word _no_, and this he kept on repeating as he dashed at me and then left me, to run to my uncle, seizing the tiller and trying to drag it round so as to alter the direction of the boat. "no, no, no, no, no!" he cried. then pointing to the land he came at me, caught up his spear, and i thought he was going to kill me, for he made a savage thrust at me which went right past my arm; dropped the spear, caught up his club, forced back my head over the gunwale of the boat, raised his club and made believe to beat me to death, hammering the boat side with all his might. after this he made a sham attack upon my uncle, who, however, took it coolly, and only laughed after seeing the attack upon me, though i had noticed one hand go to his gun when ebo made at me with the spear. after the black had worked himself up into a perspiration, instead of, as i expected, bursting out laughing, he kept on pointing to the land, crying, "no, no, no!" and then, "kill bird, kill man, nat, mi boy, kill ung-kul dit; kill ebo. no, no, no!" "you mean that the savages will kill us if we land?" i said. "kill, kill," he cried, nodding his head excitedly, and banging the side of the boat with his club; "kill, kill, kill. kill ebo, kill nat, mi boy, kill ung-kul dit, kill boat, kill, kill. no, no, no!" "well done, ebo!" cried my uncle laughing. "your english is splendid. good boy." "ebo, good boy," cried the black. "no, no, no. kill, kill." "they sha'n't kill us, ebo," said my uncle, taking up his gun and pointing it at the shore; while, to make his meaning clearer, i did the same. "shoot--kill man." "shoot! kill!" cried ebo, who evidently understood, for he picked up his spear, and thrust with it fiercely towards the shore. "yes, shoot; kill man," he continued, nodding his head; but he seemed very much dissatisfied and gazed intently towards the distant land. "he seems to know the character of the new guinea savages, nat," said uncle dick. "i have always heard that they are a fierce and cruel set, but we shall soon see whether it is safe to land." we sailed gently on, for it turned out a glorious moonlight night, and altering our course a little we were at sunrise within a couple of miles of what seemed to be a very beautiful country, wooded to the shore, and rising up inland to towering mountains. great trees seemed to prevail everywhere, but we saw no sign of human being. "the place looks very tempting, nat," said uncle, "and if we can hit upon an uninhabited part i expect that we should find some capital specimens for our cases. let us see what the place is like." ebo tried in his fashion to dissuade us from going farther, and it was evident that the poor fellow was terrible uneasy as the boat was run in close to the shore, when all at once about a dozen nude black savages came running down to the water's edge, making signs to us to land, and holding up bunches of bright feathers and rough skins of birds. "they look friendly, nat," said my uncle. "look here; i will land and take them a few presents in beads and brass wire; we shall soon see if they mean mischief." "i'll come with you, uncle," i said. "no; you stop with the boat and keep her afloat. here are the guns all ready loaded. i don't suppose there will be any danger; but if there is, you must pepper the enemy with small shot to keep them back--that is, of course, if you see them attack me." "hadn't i better come, uncle?" "no; i shall take ebo. they may be as simple-hearted and friendly as the others we have met, and this country must be so grand a collecting ground that i cannot afford to be scared away by what may be false reports raised by people who have behaved ill to the natives." he took out a few strings of brightly coloured beads and a little roll of brass wire, and waved them in the air, when the savages shouted and kept on making signs to us to land. we were only about twenty yards from the sandy shore now, and we could see every expression of face of the new guinea men, as my uncle threw one leg over the side and then stood up to his knees in the clear water. "kill ung-kul dit," said ebo, clinging to his arm. "no, no! come," replied my uncle. ebo's club was already in his _lingouti_, and picking up his spear he too leaped into the water, while i sat down in the boat with the barrel of my gun resting on the gunwale as the sail flapped and the boat rocked softly to and fro. the people seemed to be delighted as my uncle waded in; but i noted that they carefully avoided wetting their own feet, keeping on the dry sand talking eagerly among themselves; and though i looked attentively i could see no sign of arms. so peaceful and good-tempered did they all look that i was completely thrown off my guard, and wondered how ebo could be so cowardly as to keep about a yard behind my uncle, who walked up to them fearlessly, and held out his hand with a string of beads. the new guinea men chattered and seemed delighted, holding out their hands and catching eagerly at the beads, snatching them from the giver's hands, and asking apparently for more. i saw uncle dick sign to them that he wanted some of their birds in exchange. they understood him, for they held out two or three skins, and he advanced a step to take them; but they were snatched back directly, and, as if by magic, the savages thrust their hands behind them, and in an instant each man was flourishing a war-club. it all seemed to happen in a moment, and my heart seemed to stand still as i saw one treacherous savage, over six feet high, strike my uncle over the head with his club, my poor uncle falling as if he had been killed. it was now that i saw why ebo had held back behind my uncle, and it was fortunate that the faithful fellow had followed the guidance of his own reason. for as, in the midst of a tremendous shouting and yelling, the tall savage bent forward to again strike my uncle i saw ebo's lance point strike him in the throat, and he went down. this checked the savages for an instant, long enough to enable the black to stoop down and get a good grip of uncle dick's collar with his left hand, while with his right he kept making darts with his spear at the yelling savages who kept striking at him with their clubs. so tremendous and so true were ebo's thrusts that i saw another great black go down, and a couple more run yelling back towards the dense cover from which they had come; but ebo was in a very critical position. my uncle was heavy, and the black had hard work to drag him over the sand towards the boat, and keep his enemies at bay. it was now that i saw what a brave warrior and chief our follower must be; but i also saw how his enemies had formed a half circle and were trying to get behind him and cut him off from the boat. for the first few moments i had felt helpless; then i had determined to leap over and go to their help; then i saw that i was best where i was, and took aim, ready to fire at the first chance, for i could do nothing at first for fear of injuring my friends. and besides, a horrible feeling of compunction had come upon me at the thought of having to fire at men--fellow creatures--and i shrank from drawing trigger. at last, though, i saw that further hesitation would be fatal. ebo was making a brave defence, and had wounded several of his assailants as he dragged my uncle to the water's edge. another step and he could have waded, easily dragging my uncle over the water, but his enemies had made a savage dash, and one of the boldest had got hold of his spear. another moment and he would have been struck down, when, hesitating no longer, i took quick aim and fired right into the thick of the black group as far on one side of my uncle as i could. as the report rang out, and the stinging shot hissed and scattered, injuring several, they uttered fierce yells and separated for a moment, giving me a better chance to fire again, and i did with such effect that the savage who was dragging at ebo's spear loosed his hold, turned, and ran for his life. it was a golden moment for our black friend, who made a couple of darts with his freed weapon, and then backing rapidly drew my uncle through the water towards the boat. the savages were staggered by the shot from my gun. many were wounded, but they were trifling small shot-wounds, which only infuriated them as they saw their prey escaping, and with a rush they came tearing through the water, whirling their clubs above their heads and yelling furiously. my blood was up now, and in those brief moments i saw our fate, that of being massacred by these treacherous ruthless wretches, to whom we had made offerings of peace and good-will. i seemed to see our battered boat, and then friends at home waiting for news of those who had sailed out here on a peaceful expedition, news that would never come; and a curious pang came over me as i felt that i must save uncle dick and his brave defender if i could. i had already picked up my uncle's loaded double gun, and there were two rifles also loaded ready to my hand, so, taking careful aim now at the foremost of the savage crew just as they were pressing ebo hard, i fired. i could not see for a moment for the smoke, but as it parted i saw that the men were close enough now for the shot to have much more serious effect. two had fallen, but after a moment's hesitation the others made a fresh rush, which i met with another shot, which checked them again; but though another man fell, and half a dozen more were streaming with blood, they only seemed the more infuriate and again came on. i did not even then like to use the fatal rifles, but found time to cram in a couple more cartridges, and by this time ebo had dragged my uncle to the boat, stooped, lifted him in, and then with one hand upon the gunwale kept shoving her off, backing and wading, and thrusting with his spear at the fierce wretches who came on more savagely than ever. the boat moved slowly, but i was hot with excitement now, and i fired once at a savage who was striking at ebo, then at a group, and then there was a dull heavy thud as a war-club that had been thrown with clever aim struck me full in the forehead, and i fell senseless in the bottom of the boat. chapter thirty nine. ebo's song of triumph. when i came to, it was with a terrible pain in my head, and a misty feeling of having been taken by the savages, who had laid me down and were having a war-dance of triumph around me. "hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi!" then it kept on in a shrill tone till it seemed, as my head ached so badly, almost maddening. at last i raised my heavy eyelids and saw that instead of lying on the sand surrounded by savages, i was some distance from the shore and in the boat. i could dimly see, as through a mist, the savages on the beach, and they were shouting, yelling, and threatening us with their war-clubs; but it was ebo who was apparently about to dance the bottom out of the boat, and keeping up that abominable "hi, yi, yi!" his song of triumph for the victory he had won. "hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi! _hey_!" the _hey_! was accompanied by a tremendous jump, and a flourish of the spear at the savages on shore, whom the defiance seemed to madden as they rushed about furiously waving their clubs and yelling with all their might. sometimes they dashed into the water right to their chests, some swam out with their war-clubs in their teeth, and some went through a pantomime in which we were all supposed to be beaten down and being pounded into jelly upon the shore. all this delighted ebo, who varied his war-song by making derisive gestures, showing his utter contempt for his cowardly enemies, all of which seemed to sting them to fury, and i began to wonder how we should get on if they had canoes. for our boat was floating gently along about sixty yards from the shore with the sail flapping about, the current driving her away, but the rollers carrying her in. at first i could do nothing but sit there and gaze, sometimes at ebo, and sometimes at the savages. then in a sleepy stupid way i looked at my uncle, who was lying in the bottom of the boat with his eyes closed and perfectly motionless. somehow my state then did not trouble me much, only that i wished my head would not ache quite so badly. i was quite aware that we were in danger, but that seemed to be quite natural; and at last i began to wonder why i did not begin doing something, and why my uncle did not get up. at last it seemed to occur to ebo that it was time for him to finish shouting, and he laid his spear down, came to me, and lifted me, so that my head was over the side of the boat, and he then scooped up the cool water and bathed my face, with such satisfactory effect that i was able to think clearly; and thanking him, i was about to perform a similar duty for my uncle, when, to my horror, i saw a crowd of savages running a couple of canoes over the sands, evidently to launch them, and finish the treacherous work that they had begun. for a few moments i felt paralysed, but recovering myself i made a sign to ebo, hoisted the great sail to its fullest height, and as the boat careened over i hurried aft to the tiller and the sail began slowly to fill, and our boat to move gently through the water. but never had it moved so slowly before, for the breeze was very light, and it seemed as if the savages must get their canoes launched, and have paddled out to us before we could get up any speed. they saw this, and kept on shouting and working with all their might, moving first one canoe and then the other to the edge of the water, launching them, springing in, and the next moment the air was black with paddles. again an instant and the sea was foaming with their vigorous strokes. but for the fact that the canoes were very large and heavy and took time to get well in motion, we must have been overtaken, for the wind seemed to be playing with our sail, one moment filling it out, the next letting it flap idly as the boat rose and fell upon the waves. seeing that i could do no more i fastened the tiller with a piece of cord and rapidly reloaded the guns, ebo picking up his spear, and, to my horror, beginning to shout at and deride the savages. it would have made little difference, i suppose, for the blacks would have killed us without mercy had they overhauled us, and that they seemed certain to do, for they were paddling steadily and well, their blades being plunged into the water with the greatest regularity, making it foam and sparkle as they swept along. so fast did they seem to come, uttering in chorus a sort of war-cry at each plunge of the paddles, that i wondered why they did not overhaul us, so slowly did we seem to move, and at last, as they got their canoes in full swing, they came on hand over hand, getting so near that the men in the bows made ready their spears to hurl, and i raised my gun, meaning to make as brave an end as i could. i was too much excited to feel frightened now. i suppose there was not time, all my thoughts being turned upon the acts of the savages, one of whom now threw a spear, which fell short. i took aim at him, but did not fire, thinking that i would reserve the shot till we were in greater danger, and hoping that a couple of well-directed charges might have the effect of deterring them from further pursuit. but still on they came just abreast, and it was evident that they meant to attack on each side of our poor little boat, which looked so small beside the long war-canoes, each of which contained about forty men. they uttered a loud yell now, for the boat seemed to stand still and the sail began to flap, and, somehow, just then, as i felt what dreadful danger we were in, i began thinking about clapham common, and running there in the sunshine, while uncle joe looked blandly on, evidently enjoying my pursuits. just then half a dozen spears were thrown, and i nearly fell overboard, only saving myself by making a snatch at one of the stays. it was not that i was struck by a spear, but that the boat had given a leap and bent down till it seemed as if she would capsize. in fact she would have gone down with her sail flat upon the water if i had not eased off the sheet as she went slipping through the waves at a tremendous rate. it was a work of moments, and then when i turned my head it was to see that the canoes were double the distance behind, with the savages paddling furiously; but i saw that if the wind held, their case was like that of a pet spaniel running after a greyhound, for our boat kept careening over and literally racing through the sea. in five minutes i found that the canoes were so far behind that we had no more cause for fear, and, altering our course so as to sail gently on about a mile from the shore, i gave ebo the sheet to hold, knelt down, bathed uncle dick's face, and bound up a great cut that had laid open his head. my work had its reward, for, partly from the freshness of the water, partly from the pain i must have caused him, my uncle revived, stared wildly about him for a few minutes, and then, as he realised our position, he muttered a little to himself, and ended by shaking hands with me and ebo, holding the black palm of the latter in his own for some moments, as he looked our follower in the face. "i was much to blame, nat," he said at last. "i ought to have been more guarded; but i could not think that these people were so treacherous." chapter forty. we secure fresh treasures. our injuries soon grew better, but though we kept on sailing for days and days past the most tempting-looking spots, we never dared to land, for always as soon as we neared some gloriously-wooded track, all hill, dale, and mountain, and amidst whose trees the glasses showed us plenty of birds, the inhabitants began to cluster on the shore, and when once or twice my uncle said that we would go in nearer and see, the same custom was invariably observed: the people came shouting and dancing about the beach holding out birds and bunches of feathers and shells, making signs for us to land. there was no need for ebo to grow excited and cry, "no--no! man-kill! man-kill!" for my uncle laughed and shook his head. "they must try another way of baiting their traps, nat," he would cry laughing. "my head is too sore with blows and memories to be caught again." it was always the same. no sooner did the treacherous savages find that we would not land than they rushed to their canoes, and began to pursue us howling and yelling; but the swift-sailed boat was always ready to leave them far behind, and we were only too glad to find that the pleasant brisk breezes stood our friends. "i would not loiter here, nat," he said, "amidst such a treacherous, bloodthirsty set, but the great island is so tempting that i long for a ramble amongst its forests. i know that there are plenty of wonderful specimens to be obtained here. new kinds of paradise birds, butterflies, and beetles, and other attractions that it would be a sin not to obtain." "perhaps we shall find a place by and bye where there are no inhabitants, uncle," i said. "that is what i have been hoping for days," he replied; and not long after we sailed round a headland into a beautiful bay with the whitest of sand, trees clustering amidst the lovely yellow stone cliffs, and a bright stream of water flowing through a gorge and tumbling over two or three little barriers of rocks before losing itself in the calm waters of the bay. some six or seven miles back was a high ridge of mountains, which seemed to touch the sea to east and west, cutting off as it were a narrow strip from the mainland, and this strip, some fifteen miles long and six wide at its greatest, was fertile in the extreme. "why, nat," cried my uncle, "this should be as grand a place as our island. if it is free of savages it is the beau ideal of a naturalist's station. look! what's that?" "a deer come out of the wood to drink in the stream," i said. "poor deer," laughed my uncle, "i'm afraid it will have to come into our larder, for a bit of venison is the very thing we want." as he spoke he cautiously took up a rifle, rested it upon the edge of the boat, waited a few moments, and then fired at fully five hundred yards' distance, and i saw the deer make one great bound and fall dead. "good! eatum," said ebo approvingly; but instead of indulging in a frantic dance he shaded his eyes and gazed about in every direction, carefully sweeping the shore, and paying no heed to us as the boat was sailed close in. as the keel was checked by the sand ebo leaped out, and i thought he was about to rush at the deer to skin it for food, but he ran off rapidly in one direction right along the shore, coming back at the end of a quarter of an hour, during which, after dragging our prize on board, we remained, gun in hand, upon the watch. ebo started again and went in the other direction, being away longer this time, but returning triumphant to indulge in a dance, and help drag the boat into a place of safety before proceeding to light a fire. venison steaks followed, and after another exploration we found that we were in so thoroughly uninhabited a part of the island that we built a hut and slept ashore perfectly undisturbed. the next morning we had another exploration, to find that, as my uncle had supposed, the ridge of mountains cut us off from the rest of the island, and finding nothing to fear we once more set to work. parrots were in profusion, and so were the great crowned pigeons; these latter becoming our poultry for the table. there was an abundance, though, of birds of large size, whose skins we did not care to preserve, but which, being fruit-eaters, were delicious roasted. then we had another deer or two; caught fish in the bay; and literally revelled in the bounteous supply of fruit. meanwhile we were working industriously over our specimens, finding paroquets that were quite new to us, splendid cockatoos, and some that were as ugly as they were curious. sun-birds, pittas, lovely starlings, kingfishers, and beautifully-tinted pigeons were in abundance. bright little manakins of a vivid green were there, so feathered that they put me in mind of the rich orange cock-of-the-rocks that uncle dick had brought over from central america. sometimes we were shooting beside the lovely trickling stream where it gathered itself into pools to form tiny waterfalls, places where some birds seemed to love to come. at others, beneath some great flower-draped tree, where the sun-birds hovered and darted. but the great objects of our search, the birds of paradise, haunted the nut and berry bearing trees. some were always to be found by a kind of palm that attracted the pigeons as well, these latter swallowing fruit that looked as big as their heads. here, to our intense delight, we shot the paradise oriole, a magnificent orange, yellow, and black bird, its head looking as if it was covered with a lovely orange plush. one day we had made a longer excursion than usual, and had been so successful that we were about to turn back, having a long afternoon's work before us to preserve our specimens. we had penetrated right to the mountainous ridge, and finding the ground rise very rapidly we came to a standstill, when a peculiar cry up amongst the tree-shadowed rocks above us made us forget our fatigue, especially as ebo was making signs. the cry was so different to any that we had before heard that we felt that it must be some new bird, and full of eagerness set to work to stalk it. all at once what seemed a flash of dark blue darted from a tree, and before gun could reach shoulder it was gone. but ebo had been on the watch, and away he crept amongst the rocks and trees, following what we now took to be a prize, till we saw him a quarter of a mile away holding up his spear as a signal. we followed cautiously, and with a look of intelligence in his eyes he signed to my uncle to go one way towards a clump of tall palms, and to me to go in the other direction. "fire upwards," whispered my uncle, and we parted. i knew from ebo's ways that the bird must be in one of these trees, and with my eyes sweeping the great leaves in all directions i tried to make out the bird, but in vain, and i had advanced so near that i gave up all hope of seeing it, when suddenly from the other side there was a shot, then another, and feeling satisfied that my uncle had secured the prize i was completely taken off my guard, and stared with astonishment as a large bird, with tail quite a couple of feet long, swept by me towards the dense undergrowth of the lower ground, where it would have been in vain to hunt for it. just, however, as the bird was darting between the trees i raised my gun and made a quick snapshot at quite sixty yards' distance, and then called myself a stupid for not being more ready and for wasting a charge of powder and shot. my uncle hailed me now. "any luck, nat?" he cried, as he came up. "no, uncle," i replied. "i made a flying shot, but it was too far-off." "so were mine, nat, but i fired on the chance of getting the bird. it was a bird of paradise different to any i have seen. we must come again. i never had a chance at it." "but i did, uncle," i said dolefully, "and missed it." "where was it when you fired?" "down among those trees, uncle. i let it go too far." "why, you hit it, nat! there's ebo." i looked, and to my intense delight there was our black companion holding up the bird in triumph. he had seen it fall when i shot, marked it down, and found it amongst the dense undergrowth, placing it before us with hardly a feather disarranged. it was a splendid bird, the last we shot in new guinea, and over three feet long, its tail being two and of a lovely bluish tint. if looked at from one side it was bronze, from the other green, just as the light fell, while from its sides sprung magnificent plumes of rich blue and green. they were not long, filmy plumes like those of the great bird of paradise, but short, each widening towards the end, and standing up like a couple of fans above the wings. it was a feast to gaze upon so lovely an object of creation, and i felt more proud of having secured that specimen than of any bird i had shot before. "well, nat the naturalist," cried my uncle, when he had carefully hung the bird by its beak from a stick, "i think i did right in bringing you with me." "i am glad you think so, uncle," i said. "i mean it, my boy, for you have been invaluable to me. it was worth all the risk of coming to this savage place to get such a bird as that." "there must be plenty more wonderful birds here, uncle," i said, "if we could stop in safety." "i am sure there are, nat, and there is nothing i should like better than to stay here. it is a regular naturalist's hunting-ground and full of treasures, if we dared thoroughly explore it." "just now, uncle," i said, "i feel as if i want to do nothing else but sit down and rest by a good dinner. oh! i am so fagged!" "come along, then," he said smiling, "and we will make straight for camp, and i dare say we can manage a good repast for your lordship. home, ebo. eat--drink--sleep." "eat--drink--sleep," said ebo nodding, for he knew what those three words meant, and carefully carrying the treasures we had shot, tied at regular distances along a stick, he trudged on in advance towards our hut upon the shore. chapter forty one. our terrible losses. we had only about three miles to go if we could have flown like birds; but the way lay in and out of rocks, with quite a little precipice to descend at times, so that the journey must have been double that length. the hope of a good meal, however, made us trudge on, and after a few stops to rest i saw that we must now be nearing the shore, for the ground was much more level. so different did it appear, though, that i hardly recognised some of it, and had it not been for ebo i am sure we should have gone astray; but, savage like, he seemed to have an unerring instinct for finding his way back over ground he had been over before, and we had only to look back at him if we were in front for him to point out the way with the greatest of confidence. we were trudging on in front, talking in a low tone about making another expedition into the mountainous part, in the hope of finding it, the higher we climbed, more free from risk of meeting natives, and we were now getting so near the shore that we could hear the beat of the waves upon a reef that lay off our hut, and sheltered the boat from being washed about, when all of a sudden, as we were traversing some low, scrubby bushes which were more thorny than was pleasant, ebo suddenly struck us both on the shoulder, forcing us down amongst the leaves and twigs, and on looking sharply round we saw that he had dropped our splendid specimens, and, wild-eyed and excited, he was crouching too. "why, ebo," began my uncle; but the black clapped his hand upon his mouth, and then pointed to the shore in front. i felt my blood turn cold; for there, not fifty yards away, and dimly seen through the shade of leaves, was a party of about fifty new guinea men, with a couple of dozen more in three canoes that were lying just outside the reef. they were a fierce-looking lot, armed with spears, axes, and clubs, and they were gesticulating and chattering fiercely about our boat. i heard my uncle utter a groan, for it seemed as if the labours of all these months upon months of collecting were wasted, and that specimens, stores, arms, everything of value, would fall into the hands of these savages. he was perfectly calm directly after, and crouched there with his gun ready for a chance, should there be any necessity for its use; but he knew that it was useless to attempt to fight, all we could do was to save our lives. after about half an hour's talk the savages embarked, taking our boat in tow behind one of their canoes, and we saw the bright water flash as the paddles beat regularly, and the men sent their craft along till they swept round the headland west of the bay and were gone. "oh, uncle!" i cried, as soon as we were safe. "it is very hard, nat, my boy," he said sadly; "but it might have been worse. we have our lives and a little ammunition; but the scoundrels have wrecked my expedition." "and we have no boat, uncle." "nor anything else, nat," he said cheerfully. "but we have plenty of pluck, my boy, and ebo will help us to make a canoe to take us to the moluccas, where i dare say i can get some merchant to fit us out again. well, ebo," he cried, "all gone!" "man--kill--gone," repeated ebo, shaking his spear angrily, and then he kept repeating the word owe--boat, as we went down to the shore. "let's see if they have left anything in the hut, nat," said my uncle. "we must have food even if we are stripped." we turned through the bushes and made our way into the little arbour-like spot beside the stream where ebo had built our hut beneath a splendid tree, when, to our utter astonishment, we found that the savages had not seen our little home, but had caught sight of the boat, landed and carried it off, without attempting to look for its owners. no one had been there since we left, that was evident; and pleased as we were, our delight was more than equalled by ebo's, for laying down our specimens, this time more carefully, he refreshed himself with a dance before lighting a fire, where a capital meal was prepared, which we thankfully enjoyed as we thought of the benefits we received by having the forethought to carry everything out of the boat and placing it under cover for fear of rain. the savages then had taken nothing but our boat, and the next thing was to set to work to construct another, for my uncle said he should not feel satisfied to stay where we were longer, without some means of retreat being ready for an emergency. before lying down we managed to ask ebo what he thought of our being able to build a canoe that would carry us and our luxuries. for reply he laughed, pointed to our axes and to the trees, as if to say, what a foolish question when we have all the material here! i was so wearied, and slept so heavily, that i had to be awakened by my uncle long after the sun was up. "come, nat," he said, "i want you to make a fire. ebo has gone off somewhere." i made the fire, after which we had a hasty breakfast, and then worked hard at skin making--preserving all our specimens. the day glided by, but ebo did not come, and feeling no disposition to collect more, in fact not caring now to fire, we had a look round to see which would be the most likely place to cut down a tree and begin building a boat. "it is lucky for us, nat," said my uncle, "that ebo belongs to a nation of boat-builders. perhaps he has gone to search for a suitable place and the kind of wood he thinks best; but i wish he would come." night fell and no ebo. the next morning he was not there; and as day after day glided by we set ourselves to work to search for him, feeling sure that the poor fellow must have fallen from some precipice and be lying helpless in the forest. but we had no success, and began to think then of wild beasts, though we had seen nothing large enough to be dangerous, except that worst wild beast of all, savage man. still we searched until we were beginning to conclude that he must have been seen by a passing canoe whose occupants had landed and carried him off. "i don't think they would, uncle," i said, though; "he is too sharp and cunning. why, it would be like seeking to catch a wild bird to try and get hold of ebo, if he was out in the woods." "perhaps you are right, nat," said my uncle. "there is one way, though, that we have never tried, i mean over the mountain beyond where you shot that last bird. to-morrow we will go across there and see if there are any signs of the poor fellow. if we see none then we must set to work ourselves to build a canoe or hollow one out of a tree, and i tremble, nat, for the result." "shall we be able to make one big enough to carry our chests, uncle?" "no, nat, i don't expect it. if we can contrive one that will carry us to some port we must be satisfied. there i can buy a boat, and we must come back for our stores." we devoted the next two days to a long expedition, merely using our guns to procure food, and reluctantly allowing several splendid birds to escape. but our expedition only produced weariness; and footsore and worn out we returned to our hut, fully determined to spend our time in trying what we could contrive in the shape of a boat, falling fast asleep, sad at heart indeed, for in ebo we felt that we had lost a faithful friend. chapter forty two. an experiment in boat-building. "it is of no use to be down-hearted, nat," said my uncle the next morning. "cheer up, my lad, and let's look our difficulties in the face. that's the way to overcome them, i think." "i feel better this morning, uncle," i said. "nothing like a good night's rest, nat, for raising the spirits. this loss of the boat and then of our follower, if he is lost, are two great misfortunes, but we must bear in mind that before all this hardly anything but success attended us." "except with the savages, uncle," i said. "right, nat: except with the savages. now let's go down to the shore and have a good look out to sea." we walked down close to the water, and having satisfied ourselves that no canoes were in sight, we made a fire, at which our coffee was soon getting hot, while i roasted a big pigeon, of which food we never seemed to tire, the supply being so abundant that it seemed a matter of course to shoot two or three when we wanted meat. "i'd give something, nat," said my uncle, as we sat there in the soft, delicious sea air, with the sunshine coming down like silver rays through the glorious foliage above our heads--"i'd give something, nat, if boat-building had formed part of my education." "or you had gone and learned it, like peter the great, uncle." "exactly, my boy. but it did not, so we must set to work at once and see what we can do. now what do you say? how are we to make a boat?" "i've been thinking about it a great deal, uncle," i said, "and i was wondering whether we could not make a bark canoe like the indians." "a bark canoe, eh, nat?" "yes, uncle. i've seen a model of one, and it looks so easy." "yes, my boy, these things do look easy; but the men who make them, savages though they be, work on the experience of many generations. it took hundreds of years to make a good bark canoe, nat, and i'm afraid the first manufacturers of that useful little vessel were drowned. no, nat, we could not make a canoe of that kind." "then we must cut down a big tree and hollow it out, uncle, only it will take a long time." "yes, nat, but suppose we try the medium way. i propose that we cut down a moderately-sized tree, and hollow it out for the lower part of our boat, drive pegs all along the edge for a support, and weave in that a basket-work of cane for the sides as high as we want it." "but how could we make the sides watertight, uncle?" i said; "there seem to be no pine-trees here to get pitch or turpentine." "no, nat, but there is a gum to be found in large quantities in the earth, if we can discover any. the malays called it _dammar_, and use it largely for torches. it strikes me that we could turn it into a splendid varnish, seeing what a hard resinous substance it is. ebo would have found some very soon, i have no doubt." "then i must find some without him, uncle," i said. "i shall go hunting for it whenever i am not busy boat-building." he smiled at my enthusiasm, and after examining the skins to see that they were all dry and free from attacks of ants, we each took a hatchet and our guns, and proceeded along by the side of the shore in search of a stout straight tree that should combine the qualities of being light, strong, easy to work, and growing near the sea. we quite came to the conclusion that we should have a great deal of labour, and only learn by experience which kind of tree would be suitable, perhaps having to cut down several before we found one that would do. "and that will be bad, uncle," i said. "it will cause us a great deal of labour, nat," he replied smiling; "but it will make us handy with our hatchets." "i did not mean that, uncle," i replied; "i was thinking of savages coming in this direction and seeing the chips and cut-down trees." "to be sure, nat, you are right. that will be bad; but as we are cut off so from the rest of the island, we must be hopeful that we may get our work done before they come." we spent four days hunting about before we found a tree that possessed all the qualities we required. we found dozens that would have done, only they were far away from the shore, where it would have been very difficult to move our boat afterwards to the water's edge. but the tree we selected offered us a thick straight stem twenty feet long, and it was so placed that the land sloped easily towards the sea, and it was sufficiently removed from the beach for us to go on with our work unseen. we set to at once to cut it down, finding to our great delight as soon as we were through the bark that the wood was firm and fibrous, and yet easy to cut, so that after six hours' steady chopping we had made a big gap in the side, when we were obliged to leave off because it was dark. we worked the next day and the next, and then my uncle leaned against it while i gave a few more cuts, and down it went with a crash amongst the other trees, to be ready for working up into the shape we required. next morning as soon as it was light we began again to cut off the top at the length we intended to have our boat, a task this which saved the labour of chopping off the branches. i worked hard, and the labour was made lighter by uncle dick's pleasant conversation. for he chatted about savage and civilised man, and laughingly pointed out how the latter had gone on improving. "you see what slow laborious work this chipping with our axes is, nat," he said one day, as we kept industriously on, "when by means of cross-cut saws and a circular saw worked by steam this tree could be soon reduced to thin boards ready for building our boat." birds came and perched near us, and some were very rare in kind, but we felt that we must leave them alone so as to secure those we had obtained, and we worked patiently on till at the end of a week the tree began to wear outside somewhat the shape of a boat, and it was just about the length we required. it was terribly hard work, but we did not shrink, and at last, after congratulating ourselves upon having got so far without being interfered with by the savages, we had shouldered our guns and were walking back to the hut one evening when we caught sight of a black figure running across an opening, and we knew that our time of safety was at an end. "it is what i have always feared, nat," said my uncle quickly. "quick; put big-shot cartridges in your gun. we will not spill blood if we can help it, but it is their lives or ours, and we must get safely back home." "what shall we do now?" i said huskily. "wait and see what the enemy mean to do, and--" "hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi. hey. nat, mi boy. ung-kul!" came shrilly through the trees. "hooray!" i shrieked, leaping out of my hiding-place. "ebo! ebo! hi, yi, yi--hi, yi, yi. hooray!" we ran to meet him, and he bounded towards us, leaping, dancing, rolling on the ground, hugging us, and seeming half mad with delight as he dragged us down to the sea-side, where a new surprise awaited us. for there upon shore, with her anchor fixed in the sands, lay our boat apparently quite uninjured. as ebo danced about and patted the boat and then himself, it was plain enough to read the cause of his disappearance. he had gone off along the shore following the savages to their village, and then watched his opportunity to sail off. and this he had of course done, placing the boat safely in its old moorings. he made signs for something to eat, and then i noticed that he looked very thin; and it was evident that the poor fellow had suffered terrible privations in getting back our treasure, and proving himself so good a friend. chapter forty three. farewell to a friend. "don't you feel disappointed, nat?" said my uncle smiling. "we shall not be able to finish our boat." "i shall get over it, uncle," i said. "hallo! what's the matter with ebo?" for before he had half finished eating he jumped up and made signs to us which we did not understand, and then began to drag one of the chests down towards the boat. "i see, nat; he means it is not safe to stay," said my uncle; and setting to work we got all our treasures safely on board, with such food and fruit as we had ready, filled the water barrel, and then paused. but ebo was not satisfied; he chattered excitedly and signed to us to launch the boat. "i'll take his advice," said my uncle. "he means that the savages may be in pursuit." so, pushing off, the sail was hoisted, and in the bright starlight of the glorious night we sailed away, carefully avoiding the reef, where the rollers were breaking heavily, and before we were half a mile from the shore ebo pressed my arm and pointed. "only just in time, nat," said my uncle. "what an escape!" for there, stealing cautiously along between us and the white sandy shore, we counted five large canoes, whose occupants were paddling softly so as to make no noise, and but for ebo's sharp eyes they would have passed us unseen. we had no doubt that they were going after our boat, and had they been half an hour sooner our fate would have been sealed. as it was they did not see the tall sail that swept us swiftly along, and by the time the sun rose brightly over the sea we were far enough away from danger to look upon it as another trouble passed. we ran in two or three times where we found that there were no inhabitants and obtained a few birds and some fruit; but this was so dangerous a task that we afterwards contented ourselves with fish, which we cooked upon some sandy spot or reef where the coast was clear, and we could have seen the savages at a great distance, so as to leave plenty of time for escape. my uncle turned the boat's head south very reluctantly at last, for there was a mystery and temptation about the vast isle of new guinea that was very attractive. the birds and insects we had collected there were, some of them, quite new to science, and he used to say that if he could have stayed there long enough our specimens would have been invaluable. still it was impossible, for the danger was too great, and besides, as he said, we should have been nearly three years away from home by the time we reached england, and it would be our wisest course to make sure of what we had obtained. in due time we sailed to ebo's island, where we found that the captain of the prahu on board which we had come, had been, and sailed once more, so that it would be months before we could see him again. under these circumstances, and to ebo's great delight, we left our chests of specimens sealed up in a hut, where we felt that they would be quite safe, and then, with ebo for guide, we sailed to ceram, a large island, where we were able to purchase stores, and from there to the moluccas, where we did better. at both of these places we made many expeditions, collecting both birds and insects, some of them being very lovely; but there was a want of novelty about them, my uncle said, the ground having been so often visited before. and at last we sailed south again to ebo's island, finding all our stores and specimens quite safe and sound, and spending a few days in sunning and repacking them. by that time the captain of the prahu had arrived, ready to welcome us warmly, for he had been afraid that ill had befallen us. he could not stay long, so our chests were placed on board, and at last there was nothing to do but to take farewell of ebo, the true-hearted fellow, whose dejected look went to my heart. he cheered up a little as my uncle gave him four new axes, as many pocket-knives, the residue of our beads and brass wire, and the remaining odds and ends that we had bought to barter; but above all, the gift that sent him off into a fit of dancing was that of the boat, all complete as it was. at first he seemed to think that he was to give us something in exchange, and consequently he began to fetch all sorts of treasures, as he considered them. when at last, though, he knew it was a present, his delight knew no bounds, and he danced and sang for joy. the next morning we said good-bye, and the last i saw of poor ebo was as he stood in his boat watching us and waving his spear, and i'm not ashamed to say that the tears stood in my eyes as i wondered whether i should ever see that true, generous fellow again. chapter forty four. home again. it was on a bright sunny day in july that my uncle and i jumped into a cab and bade the man drive us to the old house, where i had passed so many happy as well as unhappy days. "we will not stop to go and see barbers or to dress, nat, but go and take them by surprise," said my uncle; and for the first time i began to wonder whether i had altered. "am i very much more sunburnt than i used to be?" i said suddenly, as we drew near the door. "well, you are not quite black," he said laughing, "but you have altered, nat, since they saw you last." how my heart beat as we walked up to the front door, where the maid, a stranger, stared at us, and said that her mistress was out, and looked suspiciously at us, evidently, as she afterwards owned, taking us for sailor fellows with parrots and silk things for sale. "where's uncle joseph?" i said sharply. "oh, please, sir, are you master nathaniel, who's far away at sea?" she cried. "i am nathaniel," i said laughing, "but i'm not far away at sea. where's uncle joe?" "he's down the garden, sir, smoking his pipe in the tool-house," said the girl smiling; and i dashed through the drawing-room, jumped down the steps, and ran to the well-remembered spot, to find dear old uncle joe sitting there with all my treasures carefully dusted but otherwise untouched; and as i stood behind him and clapped my hands over his eyes, there was he with poor old humpty dumpty before him. "who--who's that?" he cried. "guess!" i shouted. "i--i can't guess," he said. "i don't know you. let go or i shall call for help." "why, uncle joe!" i cried, taking away my hands and clasping his. he stared at me from top to toe, and at last said in a trembling voice: "you're not my boy nat?" "but indeed i am, uncle," i cried. "my boy nat _was a boy_," he said nervously, "not a big six-foot fellow with a gruff voice, and--my dear dick. why, then, it is nat after all." the old man hugged me in his arms, and was ready to shed weak tears, for uncle dick had followed me and was looking on. "why, why, why--what have you been doing to him, dick?" cried uncle joe excitedly. "here, he can't be our nat, and he has got a man's voice, and he is bigger than me, and he is nearly black. why, here's sophy-- sophy, dear, who's this?" i caught her in my arms and kissed her, and she too stared at me in surprise, for i suppose i had altered wonderfully, though in my busy life of travel i had taken little note of the change. it was very pleasant to settle down once more in quiet and sort our specimens, or tell uncle joe of all our dangers by land and sea; but after a time, although aunt sophia was now very kind and different to what she had been of old, there came a strong feeling upon me at times that i should once more like to be wandering amidst the beautiful islands of the eastern seas, watching the wondrous beauties of the world beneath the shallow waters, or the glorious greens of the trees upon the tropic shores. the boy who loves nature goes on loving nature to the end, for i may say that uncle dick spoke the truth when he said that i ought to be called nat the naturalist, for i feel that i am nat the naturalist still. "uncle dick," i said one day, "shall we ever have another trip together collecting birds?" "time proves all things, my boy," he said; "wait and see." images of public domain material from the google print project.) lamarck [illustration: attempt at a reconstruction of the profile of lamarck from an unpublished etching by dr. cachet] lamarck the founder of evolution _his life and work_ with translations of his writings on organic evolution by alpheus s. packard, m.d., ll.d. professor of zoölogy and geology in brown university; author of "guide to the study of insects," "text-book of entomology," etc., etc. "la postérité vous honorera!" --_mlle. cornelie de lamarck_ longmans, green, and co. and fifth avenue, new york london and bombay copyright, , by longmans, green, and co. _all rights reserved_ press of j. j. little & co. astor place, new york preface although it is now a century since lamarck published the germs of his theory, it is perhaps only within the past fifty years that the scientific world and the general public have become familiar with the name of lamarck and of lamarckism. the rise and rehabilitation of the lamarckian theory of organic evolution, so that it has become a rival of darwinism; the prevalence of these views in the united states, germany, england, and especially in france, where its author is justly regarded as the real founder of organic evolution, has invested his name with a new interest, and led to a desire to learn some of the details of his life and work, and of his theory as he unfolded it in and subsequent years, and finally expounded it in . the time seems ripe, therefore, for a more extended sketch of lamarck and his theory, as well as of his work as a philosophical biologist, than has yet appeared. but the seeker after the details of his life is baffled by the general ignorance about the man--his antecedents, his parentage, the date of his birth, his early training and education, his work as a professor in the jardin des plantes, the house he lived in, the place of his burial, and his relations to his scientific contemporaries. except the _éloges_ of geoffroy st. hilaire and cuvier, and the brief notices of martins, duval, bourguignat, and bourguin, there is no special biography, however brief, except a _brochure_ of thirty-one pages, reprinted from a few scattered articles by the distinguished anthropologist, m. gabriel de mortillet, in the fourth and last volume of a little-known journal, _l'homme_, entitled _lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes, ses disciples_, paris, . this exceedingly rare pamphlet was written by the late m. gabriel de mortillet, with the assistance of philippe salmon and dr. a. mondière, who with others, under the leadership of paul nicole, met in and formed a _réunion lamarck_ and a _dîner lamarck_, to maintain and perpetuate the memory of the great french transformist. owing to their efforts, the exact date of lamarck's birth, the house in which he lived during his lifetime at paris, and all that we shall ever know of his place of burial have been established. it is a lasting shame that his remains were not laid in a grave, but were allowed to be put into a trench, with no headstone to mark the site, on one side of a row of graves of others better cared for, from which trench his bones, with those of others unknown and neglected, were exhumed and thrown into the catacombs of paris. lamarck left behind him no letters or manuscripts; nothing could be ascertained regarding the dates of his marriages, the names of his wives or of all his children. of his descendants but one is known to be living, an officer in the army. but his aims in life, his undying love of science, his noble character and generous disposition are constantly revealed in his writings. the name of lamarck has been familiar to me from my youth up. when a boy, i used to arrange my collection of shells by the lamarckian system, which had replaced the old linnean classification. for over thirty years the lamarckian factors of evolution have seemed to me to afford the foundation on which natural selection rests, to be the primary and efficient causes of organic change, and thus to account for the origin of variations, which darwin himself assumed as the starting point or basis of his selection theory. it is not lessening the value of darwin's labors, to recognize the originality of lamarck's views, the vigor with which he asserted their truth, and the heroic manner in which, against adverse and contemptuous criticism, to his dying day he clung to them. during a residence in paris in the spring and summer of , i spent my leisure hours in gathering material for this biography. i visited the place of his birth--the little hamlet of bazentin, near amiens--and, thanks to the kindness of the schoolmaster of that village, m. duval, was shown the house where lamarck was born, the records in the old parish register at the _mairie_ of the birth of the father of lamarck and of lamarck himself. the jesuit seminary at amiens was also visited, in order to obtain traces of his student life there, though the search was unsuccessful. my thanks are due to professor a. giard of paris for kind assistance in the loan of rare books, for copies of his own essays, especially his _leçon d'ouverture des cours de l'Évolution des Êtres organisés_, , and in facilitating the work of collecting data. introduced by him to professor hamy, the learned anthropologist and archivist of the muséum d'histoire naturelle, i was given by him the freest access to the archives in the maison de buffon, which, among other papers, contained the ms. _archives du muséum_; _i.e._, the _procès verbaux des séances tenues par les officiers du jardin des plantes_, from to , bound in vellum, in thirty-four volumes. these were all looked through, though found to contain but little of biographical interest relating to lamarck, beyond proving that he lived in that ancient edifice from until his death in . dr. hamy's elaborate history of the last years of the royal garden and of the foundation of the muséum d'histoire naturelle, in the volume commemorating the centennial of the foundation of the museum, has been of essential service. my warmest thanks are due to m. adrien de mortillet, formerly secretary of the society of anthropology of paris, for most essential aid. he kindly gave me a copy of a very rare pamphlet, entitled _lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes, ses disciples_. he also referred me to notices bearing on the genealogy of lamarck and his family in the _revue de gascogne_ for . to him also i am indebted for the privilege of having electrotypes made of the five illustrations in the _lamarck_, for copies of the composite portrait of lamarck by dr. gachet, and also for a photograph of the _acte de naissance_ reproduced by the late m. salmon. i have also to acknowledge the kindness shown me by dr. j. deniker, the librarian of the bibliothèque du muséum d'histoire naturelle. i had begun in the museum library, which contains nearly if not every one of lamarck's publications, to prepare a bibliography of all of lamarck's writings, when, to my surprise and pleasure, i was presented with a very full and elaborate one by the assistant-librarian, m. godefroy malloisel. to professor edmond perrier i am indebted for a copy of his valuable _lamarck et le transformisme actuel_, reprinted from the noble volume commemorative of the centennial of the foundation of the muséum d'histoire naturelle, which has proved of much use. other sources from which biographical details have been taken are cuvier's _éloge_, and the notice of lamarck, with a list of many of his writings, in the _revue biographique de la société malacologique de france_, . this notice, which is illustrated by three portraits of lamarck, one of which has been reproduced, i was informed by m. paul kleinsieck was prepared by the late j. r. bourguignat, the eminent malacologist and anthropologist. the notices by professor mathias duval and by l. a. bourguin have been of essential service. as regards the account of lamarck's speculative and theoretical views, i have, so far as possible, preferred, by abstracts and translations, to let him tell his own story, rather than to comment at much length myself on points about which the ablest thinkers and students differ so much. it is hoped that lamarck's writings referring to the evolution theory may, at no distant date, be reprinted in the original, as they are not bulky and could be comprised in a single volume. this life is offered with much diffidence, though the pleasure of collecting the materials and of putting them together has been very great. brown university, providence, r. i., _october, ._ contents chapter page i. birth, family, youth, and military career ii. student life and botanical career iii. lamarck's share in the reorganization of the jardin des plantes and museum of natural history iv. professor of invertebrate zoÖlogy at the museum v. last days and death vi. position in the history of science; opinions of his contemporaries and some later biologists vii. lamarck's work in meteorology and physical science viii. lamarck's work in geology ix. lamarck the founder of invertebrate palÆontology x. lamarck's opinions on general physiology and biology xi. lamarck as a botanist xii. lamarck the zoÖlogist xiii. the evolutionary views of buffon and of geoffroy st. hilaire xiv. the views of erasmus darwin xv. when did lamarck change his views regarding the mutability of species? xvi. the steps in the development of lamarck's views on evolution before the publication of his "philosophie zoologique" xvii. the "philosophie zoologique" xviii. lamarck's theory as to the evolution of man xix. lamarck's thoughts on morals, and on the relation between science and religion xx. the relations between lamarckism and darwinism; neolamarckism bibliography list of illustrations attempt at a reconstruction of the profile of lamarck by dr. gachet (photogravure) _frontispiece_ facing page birthplace of lamarck, front view } } birthplace of lamarck " " } act of birth autograph of lamarck, january  , lamarck at the age of years birthplace of lamarck. rear view from the west } } maison de buffon, in which lamarck lived in paris, } - } portrait of lamarck, when old and blind, in the costume of a member of the institute. engraved in portrait of lamarck maison de buffon, in which lamarck lived, - É. geoffroy st. hilaire lamarck, the founder of evolution. his life and work chapter i birth, family, youth, and military career the life of lamarck is the old, old story of a man of genius who lived far in advance of his age, and who died comparatively unappreciated and neglected. but his original and philosophic views, based as they were on broad conceptions of nature, and touching on the burning questions of our day, have, after the lapse of a hundred years, gained fresh interest and appreciation, and give promise of permanent acceptance. the author of the _flore française_ will never be forgotten by his countrymen, who called him the french linné; and he who wrote the _animaux sans vertèbres_ at once took the highest rank as the leading zoölogist of his period. but lamarck was more than a systematic biologist of the first order. besides rare experience and judgment in the classification of plants and of animals, he had an unusually active, inquiring, and philosophical mind, with an originality and boldness in speculation, and soundness in reasoning and in dealing with such biological facts as were known in his time, which have caused his views as to the method of organic evolution to again come to the front. as a zoölogical philosopher no one of his time approached lamarck. the period, however, in which he lived was not ripe for the hearty and general adoption of the theory of descent. as in the organic world we behold here and there prophetic types, anticipating, in their generalized synthetic nature, the incoming, ages after, of more specialized types, so lamarck anticipated by more than half a century the principles underlying the present evolutionary theories. so numerous are now the adherents, in some form, of lamarck's views, that at the present time evolutionists are divided into darwinians and lamarckians or neolamarckians. the factors of organic evolution as stated by lamarck, it is now claimed by many, really comprise the primary or foundation principles or initiative causes of the origin of life-forms. hence not only do many of the leading biologists of his native country, but some of those of germany, of the united states, and of england, justly regard him as the founder of the theory of organic evolution. besides this, lamarck lived in a transition period. he prepared the way for the scientific renascence in france. moreover, his simple, unselfish character was a rare one. he led a retired life. his youth was tinged with romance, and during the last decade of his life he was blind. he manfully and patiently bore adverse criticisms, ridicule, forgetfulness, and inappreciation, while, so far from renouncing his theoretical views, he tenaciously clung to them to his dying day. the biography of such a character is replete with interest, and the memory of his unselfish and fruitful devotion to science should be forever cherished. his life was also notable for the fact that after his fiftieth year he took up and mastered a new science; and at a period when many students of literature and science cease to be productive and rest from their labors, he accomplished the best work of his life--work which has given him lasting fame as a systematist and as a philosophic biologist. moreover, lamarckism comprises the fundamental principles of evolution, and will always have to be taken into consideration in accounting for the origin, not only of species, but especially of the higher groups, such as orders, classes, and phyla. this striking personage in the history of biological science, who has made such an ineffaceable impression on the philosophy of biology, certainly demands more than a brief _éloge_ to keep alive his memory. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ jean-baptiste-pierre-antoine de monet, chevalier de lamarck, was born august  , , at bazentin-le-petit. this little village is situated in picardy, or what is now the department of the somme, in the arrondissement de péronne, canton d'albert, a little more than four miles from albert, between this town and bapaume, and near longueval, the nearest post-office to bazentin. the village of bazentin-le-grand, composed of a few more houses than its sister hamlet, is seen half a mile to the southeast, shaded by the little forest such as borders nearly every town and village in this region. the two hamlets are pleasantly situated in a richly cultivated country, on the chalk uplands or downs of picardy, amid broad acres of wheat and barley variegated with poppies and the purple cornflower, and with roadsides shaded by tall poplars. the peasants to the number of compose the diminishing population. there were in , or about that date. the silence of the single little street, with its one-storied, thatched or tiled cottages, is at infrequent intervals broken by an elderly dame in her _sabots_, or by a creaking, rickety village cart driven by a farmer-boy in blouse and hob-nailed shoes. the largest inhabited building is the _mairie_, a modern structure, at one end of which is the village school, where fifteen or twenty urchins enjoy the instructions of the worthy teacher. a stone church, built in , and somewhat larger than the needs of the hamlet at present require, raises its tower over the quiet scene. our pilgrimage to bazentin had for its object the discovery of the birthplace of lamarck, of which we could obtain no information in paris. our guide from albert took us to the _mairie_, and it was with no little satisfaction that we learned from the excellent village teacher, m. duval, that the house in which the great naturalist was born was still standing, and but a few steps away, in the rear of the church and of the _mairie_. with much kindness he left his duties in the schoolroom, and accompanied us to the ancient structure. [illustration: birthplace of lamarck, front view] [illustration: birthplace of lamarck] the modest _château_ stands a few rods to the westward of the little village, and was evidently the seat of the leading family of the place. it faces east and is a two-storied house of the shape seen everywhere in france, with its high, incurved roof; the walls, nearly a foot and a half thick, built of brick; the corners and windows of blocks of white limestone. it is about fifty feet long and twenty-five feet wide. above the roof formerly rose a small tower. there is no porch over the front door. within, a rather narrow hall passes through the centre, and opens into a large room on each side. what was evidently the drawing-room or _salon_ was a spacious apartment with a low white wainscot and a heavy cornice. over the large, roomy fireplace is a painting on the wood panel, representing a rural scene, in which a shepherdess and her lover are engaged in other occupations than the care of the flock of sheep visible in the distance. over the doorway is a smaller but quaint painting of the same description. the house is uninhabited, and perhaps uninhabitable--indeed almost a ruin--and is used as a storeroom for wood and rubbish by the peasants in the adjoining house to the left, on the south. the ground in front was cultivated with vegetables, not laid down to a lawn, and the land stretched back for perhaps three hundred to four hundred feet between the old garden walls. here, amid these rural scenes, even now so beautiful and tranquil, the subject of our sketch was born and lived through his infancy and early boyhood.[ ] if his parents did not possess an ample fortune, they were blessed with a numerous progeny, for lamarck was the eleventh and youngest child, and seems to have survived all the others. biographers have differed as to the date of the birth of lamarck.[ ] happily the exact date had been ascertained through the researches of m. philippe salmon; and m. duval kindly showed us in the thin volume of records, with its tattered and torn leaves, the register of the _acte de naissance_, and made a copy of it, as follows: _extrait du registre aux actes de baptême de la commune de bazentin, pour l'année ._ l'an mil sept cent quarante-quatre, le premier août est né en légitime mariage et le lendemain a été baptisé par moy curé soussigné jean baptiste pierre antoine, fils de messire jacques philippe de monet, chevalier de lamarck, seigneur des bazentin grand et petit et de haute et puissante dame marie françoise de fontaine demeurant en leur château de bazentin le petit, son parrain a été messire jean baptiste de fossé, prêtre-chanoine de l'église collégiale de st. farcy de péronne, y demeurant, sa marraine dame antoinette françoise de bucy, nièce de messire louis joseph michelet, chevalier, ancien commissaire de l'artillerie de france demeurante au château de guillemont, qui ont signé avec mon dit sieur de bazentin et nous. ont signé: de fossé, de bucy michelet, bazentin. cozette, curé. [illustration: act of birth] of lamarck's parentage and ancestry there are fortunately some traces. in the _registre aux actes de baptême pour l'année _, still preserved in the _mairie_ of bazentin-le-petit, the record shows that his father was born in february, , at bazentin. the infant was baptised february  , , the permission to the _curé_ by henry, bishop of amiens, having been signed february  , . lamarck's grandparents were, according to this certificate of baptism, messire philippe de monet de lamarck, ecuyer, seigneur des bazentin, and dame magdeleine de lyonne. the family of lamarck, as stated by h. masson,[ ] notwithstanding his northern and almost germanic name of chevalier de lamarck, originated in the southwest of france. though born at bazentin, in old picardy, it is not less true that he descended on the paternal side from an ancient house of béarn, whose patrimony was very modest. this house was that of monet. another genealogist, baron c. de cauna,[ ] tells us that there is no doubt that the family of monet in bigorre[ ] was divided. one of its representatives formed a branch in picardy in the reign of louis xiv. or later. lamarck's grandfather, philippe de monet, "seigneur de bazentin et autres lieux," was also "chevalier de l'ordre royal et militaire de saint-louis, commandant pour le roi en la ville et château de dinan, pensionnaire de sa majesté." the descendants of philippe de lamarck were, adds de cauna, thus thrown into two branches, or at least two offshoots or stems (_brisures_), near péronne. but the actual posterity of the monet of picardy was reduced to a single family, claiming back, with good reason, to a southern origin. one of its scions in the maternal line was a brilliant officer of the military marine and also son-in-law of a very distinguished naval officer. the family of monet was represented among the french nobility of by messires de monet de caixon and de monet de saint-martin. by marriage their grandson was connected with an honorable family of montant, near saint-sever-cap. another authority, the abbé j. dulac, has thrown additional light on the genealogy of the de lamarck family, which, it may be seen, was for at least three centuries a military one.[ ] the family of monet, seigneur de saint-martin et de sombran, was maintained as a noble one by order of the royal council of state of june  , . he descended (i) from bernard de monet, esquire, captain of the château of lourdes, who had as a son (ii) Étienne de monet, esquire, who, by contract dated august  , , married marguerite de sacaze. he was the father of (iii) pierre de monet, esquire, "seigneur d'ast, en béarn, guidon des gendarmes de la compagnie du roi de navarre." from him descended (iv) Étienne de monet, esquire, second of the name, "seigneur d'ast et lamarque, de julos." he was a captain by rank, and bought the estate of saint-martin in . he married, in , jeanne de lamarque, daughter of william de lamarck, "seigneur de lamarque et de bretaigne." they had three children, the third of whom was philippe, "chevalier de saint-louis, commandant du château de dinan, seigneur de bazentin, en picardy," who, as we have already seen, was the father of the naturalist lamarck, who lived from to . the abbé relates that philippe, the father of the naturalist, was born at saint-martin, in the midst of bigorre, "_in pleine bigorre_," and he very neatly adds that "the bigorrais have the right to claim for their land of flowers one of the glories of botany."[ ] the name was at first variously spelled de lamarque, de la marck, or de lamarck. he himself signed his name, when acting as secretary of the assembly of professors-administrative of the museum of natural history during the years of the first republic, as plain lamarck. the inquiry arises how, being the eleventh child, he acquired the title of chevalier, which would naturally have become extinct with the death of the oldest son. the abbé dulac suggests that the ten older of the children had died, or that by some family arrangement he was allowed to add the domanial name to the patronymic one. certainly he never tarnished the family name, which, had it not been for him, would have remained in obscurity. as to his father's tastes and disposition, what influence his mother had in shaping his character, his home environment, as the youngest of eleven children, the nature of his education in infancy and boyhood, there are no sources of information. but several of his brothers entered the army, and the domestic atmosphere was apparently a military one. philippe de lamarck, with his large family, had endowed his first-born son so that he could maintain the family name and title, and had found situations for several of the others in the army. jean lamarck did not manifest any taste for the clerical profession. he lived in a martial atmosphere. for centuries his ancestors had borne arms. his eldest brother had been killed in the breach at the siege of berg-op-zoom; two others were still in the service, and in the troublous times at the beginning of the war in , a young man of high spirit and courage would naturally not like to relinquish the prospect of renown and promotion. but, yielding to the wishes of his father, he entered as a student at the college of the jesuits at amiens.[ ] his father dying in , nothing could induce the incipient abbé, then seventeen years of age, to longer wear his bands. immediately on returning home he bought himself a wretched horse, for want of means to buy a better one, and, accompanied by a poor lad of his village, he rode across the country to join the french army, then campaigning in germany. [illustration: autograph of lamarck, january  , je prie le citoyen qui assemble dans le magazin de l'imprimerie du citoyen agasse de remettre à madame chevalier cent exemplaires de mon hydrogeologie, pour les brocher. paris le  pluviose an dix lamarck] he carried with him a letter of recommendation from one of his neighbors on an adjoining estate in the country, madame de lameth, to m. de lastic, colonel of the regiment of beaujolais.[ ] "we can imagine [says cuvier] the feelings of this officer on thus finding himself hampered with a boy whose puny appearance made him seem still younger than he was. however, he sent him to his quarters, and then busied himself with his duties. the period indeed was a critical one. it was the th of july, . the marshal de broglie had just united his army with that of the prince de soubise, and the next day was to attack the allied army commanded by the prince ferdinand of brunswick. at the break of day m. de lastic rode along the front of his corps, and the first man that met his gaze was the new recruit, who, without saying anything to him, had placed himself in the front rank of a company of grenadiers, and nothing could induce him to quit his post. "it is a matter of history that this battle, which bears the name of the little village of fissingshausen, between ham and lippstadt, in westphalia, was lost by the french, and that the two generals, mutually accusing each other of this defeat, immediately separated, and abandoned the campaign. "during the movement of the battle, de lamarck's company was stationed in a position exposed to the direct fire of the enemy's artillery. in the confusion of the retreat he was forgotten. already all the officers and non-commissioned officers had been killed; there remained only fourteen men, when the oldest grenadier, seeing that there were no more of the french troops in sight, proposed to the young volunteer, become so promptly commander, to withdraw his little troop. 'but we are assigned to this post,' said the boy, 'and we should not withdraw from it until we are relieved.' and he made them remain there until the colonel, seeing that the squad did not rally, sent him an orderly, who crept by all sorts of covered ways to reach him. this bold stand having been reported to the marshal, he promoted him on the field to the rank of an officer, although his order had prescribed that he should be very chary of these kinds of promotions." his physical courage shown at this age was paralleled by his moral courage in later years. the staying power he showed in immovably adhering to his views on evolution through many years, and under the direct and raking fire of harsh and unrelenting criticism and ridicule from friend and foe, affords a striking contrast to the moral timidity shown by buffon when questioned by the sorbonne. we can see that lamarck was the stuff martyrs are made of, and that had he been tried for heresy he would have been another tycho brahe. soon after, de lamarck was nominated to a lieutenancy; but so glorious a beginning of his military career was most unexpectedly checked. a sudden accident forced him to leave the service and entirely change his course of life. his regiment had been, during peace, sent into garrison, first at toulon and then at monaco. while there a comrade in play lifted him by the head; this gave rise to an inflammation of the lymphatic glands of the neck, which, not receiving the necessary attention on the spot, obliged him to go to paris for better treatment. "the united efforts [says cuvier] of several surgeons met with no better success, and danger had become very imminent, when our _confrère_, the late m. tenon, with his usual sagacity, recognized the trouble, and put an end to it by a complicated operation, of which m. de lamarck preserved deep scars. this treatment lasted for a year, and, during this time, the extreme scantiness of his resources confined him to a solitary life, when he had the leisure to devote himself to meditations." footnotes: [ ] in the little chapel next the church lies buried, we were told by m. duval, a protestant of the family of de guillebon, the purchaser (_acquéreur_) of the _château_. whether the estate is now in the hands of his heirs we did not ascertain. [ ] as stated by g. de mortillet, the date of his birth is variously given. michaud's _dictionnaire biographique_ gives the date april  ; other authors, april  ; others, the correct one, august  , . (_lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes, ses disciples._ _l'homme_, iv. p.  , .) [ ] "sur la maison de viella--les mortiers-brévise et les montalembert en gascogne--et sur le naturaliste lamarck." par hippolyte masson. (_revue de gascogne_, xvii., pp.  - , .) [ ] _ibid._, p.  . [ ] a small town in southwestern france, near lourdes and pau; it is about eight miles north of tarbes, in gascony. [ ] _revue de gascogne_, pp.  - , . [ ] the abbé attempts to answer the question as to what place gave origin to the name of lamarck, and says: "the author of the history of béarn considered the cradle of the race to have been the freehold of marca, parish of gou (basses-pyrénées). a branch of the family established in le magnoac changed its name of marca to that of la marque." it was m. d'ossat who gave rise to this change by addressing his letters to m. de marca (at the time when he was preceptor of his nephew), sometimes under the name of m. marca, sometimes _m. la marqua_, or of _m. de la marca_, but more often still under that of _m. de la marque_, "with the object, no doubt, of making him a frenchman" ("_dans la vue sans doute de le franciser_"). (_vie du cardinal d'ossat_, tome i., p.  .) "to recall their origin, the branch of magnoac to-day write their name _marque-marca_. if the marca of the historian belongs to béarn, the lamarque of the naturalist, an orthographic name in principle, proceeds from bigorre, actually chosen (_désignée_) by _lamarcq, pontacq, or lamarque près béarn_. that the _lamarque_ of the botanist of the royal cabinet distinguished himself from all the _lamarques_ of béarn or of bigorre, which it bears (_qu'il gise_) to this day in the hautes-pyrénées, canton d'ossun, we have many proofs: aast at some distance, bourcat and couet all near l'abbaye laïque, etc. the village so determined is called in turn _marca_, _la marque_, _lamarque_; names predestined to several destinations; judge then to the mercy of a botanist, _lamarck_, _la marck_, _delamarque_, _de lamarck_, who shall determine their number? as to the last, i only explain it by a fantasy of the man who would de-bigorrize himself in order to germanize himself in the hope, apparently, that at the first utterance of the name people would believe that he was from the _outre rhin_ rather than from the borders of gave or of adour. consequently a hundred times more learned and a hundred times more worthy of a professorship in the museum, where monet would seem (_entrevait_) much less than lamarque." it may be added that béarn was an ancient province of southern france nearly corresponding to the present department of basses-pyrénées. its capital was pau. [ ] we have been unable to ascertain the date when young lamarck entered the seminary. on making inquiries in june, , at the jesuits' seminary in amiens, one of the faculty, after consultation with the father superior, kindly gave us in writing the following information as to the exact date: "the registers of the great seminary were carried away during the french revolution, and we do not know whither they have been transported, and whether they still exist to-day. besides, it is very doubtful whether lamarck resided here, because only ecclesiastics preparing for receiving orders were received in the seminary. do you not confound the seminary with the ancient college of rue poste de paris, college now destroyed?" [ ] we are following the _Éloge_ of cuvier almost verbatim, also reproduced in the biographical notice in the _revue biographique de la société malacologique de france_, said to have been prepared by j. r. bourguignat. chapter ii student life and botanical career the profession of arms had not led lamarck to forget the principles of physical science which he had received at college. during his sojourn at monaco the singular vegetation of that rocky country had attracted his attention, and chomel's _traité des plantes usuelles_ accidentally falling into his hands had given him some smattering of botany. lodged at paris, as he has himself said, in a room much higher up than he could have wished, the clouds, almost the only objects to be seen from his windows, interested him by their ever-changing shapes, and inspired in him his first ideas of meteorology. there were not wanting other objects to excite interest in a mind which had always been remarkably active and original. he then realized, to quote from his biographer, cuvier, what voltaire said of condorcet, that solid enduring discoveries can shed a lustre quite different from that of a commander of a company of infantry. he resolved to study some profession. this last resolution was but little less courageous than the first. reduced to a pension (_pension alimentaire_) of only  francs a year, he attempted to study medicine, and while waiting until he had the time to give to the necessary studies, he worked in the dreary office of a bank. the meditations, the thoughts and aspirations of a contemplative nature like his, in his hours of work or leisure, in some degree consoled the budding philosopher during this period of uncongenial labor, and when he did have an opportunity of communicating his ideas to his friends, of discussing them, of defending them against objection, the hardships of his workaday life were for the time forgotten. in his ardor for science all the uncongenial experiences of his life as a bank clerk vanished. like many another rising genius in art, literature, or science, his zeal for knowledge and investigation in those days of grinding poverty fed the fires of his genius, and this was the light which throughout his long poverty-stricken life shed a golden lustre on his toilsome existence. he did not then know that the great linné, the father of the science he was to illuminate and so greatly to expand, also began life in extreme poverty, and eked out his scanty livelihood by mending over again for his own use the cast-off shoes of his fellow-students. (cuvier.) bourguin[ ] tells us that lamarck's medical course lasted four years, and this period of severe study--for he must have made it such--evidently laid the best possible foundation that paris could then afford for his after studies. he seems, however, to have wavered in his intentions of making medicine his life work, for he possessed a decided taste for music. his eldest brother, the chevalier de bazentin, strongly opposed, and induced him to abandon this project, though not without difficulty. at about this time the two brothers lived in a quiet village[ ] near paris, and there for a year they studied together science and history. and now happened an event which proved to be the turning point, or rather gave a new and lasting impetus to lamarck's career and decided his vocation in life. in one of their walks they met the philosopher and sentimentalist, jean jacques rousseau. we know little about lamarck's acquaintance with this genius, for all the details of his life, both in his early and later years, are pitifully scanty. lamarck, however, had attended at the jardin du roi a botanical course, and now, having by good fortune met rousseau, he probably improved the acquaintance, and, found by rousseau to be a congenial spirit, he was soon invited to accompany him in his herborizations. still more recently professor giard[ ] has unearthed from the works of rousseau the following statement by him regarding species: "est-ce qu'à proprement parler il n'existerait point d'espèces dans la nature, mais seulement des individus?"[ ] in his _discours sur l'inégalité parmi les hommes_ is the following passage, which shows, as giard says, that rousseau perfectly understood the influence of the _milieu_ and of wants on the organism; and this brilliant writer seems to have been the first to suggest natural selection, though only in the case of man, when he says that the weaker in sparta were eliminated in order that the superior and stronger of the race might survive and be maintained. "accustomed from infancy to the severity of the weather and the rigors of the seasons, trained to undergo fatigue, and obliged to defend naked and without arms their life and their prey against ferocious beasts, or to escape them by flight, the men acquired an almost invariably robust temperament; the infants, bringing into the world the strong constitution of their fathers, and strengthening themselves by the same kind of exercise as produced it, have thus acquired all the vigor of which the human species is capable. nature uses them precisely as did the law of sparta the children of her citizens. she rendered strong and robust those with a good constitution, and destroyed all the others. our societies differ in this respect, where the state, in rendering the children burdensome to the father, indirectly kills them before birth."[ ] soon lamarck abandoned not only a military career, but also music, medicine, and the bank, and devoted himself exclusively to science. he was now twenty-four years old, and, becoming a student of botany under bernard de jussieu, for ten years gave unremitting attention to this science, and especially to a study of the french flora. cuvier states that the _flore française_ appeared after "six months of unremitting labor." however this may be, the results of over nine preceding years of study, gathered together, written, and printed within the brief period of half a year, was no hasty _tour de force_, but a well-matured, solid work which for many years remained a standard one. it brought him immediate fame. it appeared at a fortunate epoch. the example of rousseau and the general enthusiasm he inspired had made the study of flowers very popular--"_une science à la mode_," as cuvier says--even among many ladies and in the world of fashion, so that the new work of lamarck, though published in three octavo volumes, had a rapid success. the preface was written by daubenton.[ ] buffon also took much interest in the work, opposing as it did the artificial system of linné, for whom he had, for other reasons, no great degree of affection. he obtained the privilege of having the work published at the royal printing office at the expense of the government, and the total proceeds of the sale of the volumes were given to the author. this elaborate work at once placed young lamarck in the front rank of botanists, and now the first and greatest honor of his life came to him. the young lieutenant, disappointed in a military advancement, won his spurs in the field of science. a place in botany had become vacant at the academy of sciences, and m. de lamarck having been presented in the second rank (_en seconde ligne_), the ministry, a thing almost unexampled, caused him to be given by the king, in , the preference over m. descemet, whose name was presented before his, in the first rank, and who since then, and during a long life, never could recover the place which he unjustly lost.[ ] "in a word, the poor officer, so neglected since the peace, obtained at one stroke the good fortune, always very rare, and especially so at that time, of being both the recipient of the favor of the court and of the public."[ ] [illustration: lamarck at the age of years] the interest and affection felt for him by buffon were of advantage to him in another way. desiring to have his son, whom he had planned to be his successor as intendant of the royal garden, and who had just finished his studies, enjoy the advantage of travel in foreign lands, buffon proposed to lamarck to go with him as a guide and friend; and, not wishing him to appear as a mere teacher, he procured for him, in , a commission as royal botanist, charged with visiting the foreign botanical gardens and museums, and of placing them in communication with those of paris. his travels extended through portions of the years and . according to his own statement,[ ] in pursuit of this object he collected not only rare and interesting plants which were wanting in the royal garden, but also minerals and other objects of natural history new to the museum. he went to holland, germany, hungary, etc., visiting universities, botanical gardens, and museums of natural history. he examined the mines of the hartz in hanover, of freyburg in saxony, of chemnitz and of cremnitz in hungary, making there numerous observations which he incorporated in his work on physics, and sent collections of ores, minerals, and seeds to paris. he also made the acquaintance of the botanists gleditsch at berlin, jacquin at vienna, and murray at göttingen. he obtained some idea of the magnificent establishments in these countries devoted to botany, "and which," he says, "ours do not yet approach, in spite of all that had been done for them during the last thirty years."[ ] on his return, as he writes, he devoted all his energies and time to research and to carrying out his great enterprises in botany; as he stated: "indeed, for the last ten years my works have obliged me to keep in constant activity a great number of artists, such as draughtsmen, engravers, and printers."[ ] but the favor of buffon, powerful as his influence was,[ ] together with the aid of the minister, did not avail to give lamarck a permanent salaried position. soon after his return from his travels, however, m. d'angiviller, the successor of buffon as intendant of the royal garden, who was related to lamarck's family, created for him the position of keeper of the herbarium of the royal garden, with the paltry salary of ,  francs. according to the same _État_, lamarck had now been attached to the royal garden five years. in he received as salary only ,  livres or francs; in it was raised to the sum of ,  livres. footnotes: [ ] _les grand naturalists français au commencement du xix siècle._ [ ] was this quiet place in the region just out of paris possibly near mont valérien? he must have been about twenty-two years old when he met rousseau and began to study botany seriously. his _flore française_ appeared in , when he was thirty-four years old. rousseau, at the end of his checkered life, from to , lived in paris. he often botanized in the suburbs; and mr. morley, in his _rousseau_, says that "one of his greatest delights was to watch mont valérien in the sunset" (p.  ). rousseau died in paris in . that rousseau expressed himself vaguely in favor of evolution is stated by isidore geoffroy st. hilaire, who quotes a "_phrase, malheureusement un peu ambiguë, qui semble montrer, dans se grand écrivain, un partisan de plus de la variabilité du type_." (_résumé des vues sur l'espèce organique_, p.  , paris, .) the passage is quoted in geoffroy's _histoire naturelle générale des règnes organiques_, ii., ch. i., p.  . i have been unable to verify this quotation. [ ] _leçon d'ouverture du cours de l'Évolution des Êtres organisés._ paris, . [ ] _dictionnaire des termes de la botanique._ art. aphrodite. [ ] _discours sur l'origine et les fondements de l'inégalité parmi les hommes._ . [ ] since , the keeper and demonstrator of the cabinet, who shared with thouin, the chief gardener, the care of the royal gardens. daubenton was at that time the leading anatomist of france, and after buffon's death he gathered around him all the scientific men who demanded the transformation of the superannuated and incomplete jardin du roi, and perhaps initiated the movement which resulted five years later in the creation of the present museum of natural history. (hamy, _l. c._, p.  .) [ ] de mortillet (_lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes_, p.  ) states that lamarck was elected to the academy at the age of thirty; but as he was born in , and the election took place in , he must have been thirty-five years of age. [ ] cuvier's _Éloge_, p. viii.; also _revue biographique de la société malacologique_, p.  . [ ] see letters to the committee of public instruction. [ ] cuvier's _Éloge_, p. viii; also bourguignat in _revue biog. soc. malacologique_, p.  . [ ] he received no remuneration for this service. as was afterwards stated in the national archives, _État des personnes attachées au muséum national d'histoire naturelle a l'époque du messidor an ii de la république_, he "sent to this establishment seeds of rare plants, interesting minerals, and observations made during his travels in holland, germany, and in france. he did not receive any compensation for this service." [ ] "the illustrious intendant of the royal garden and cabinet had concentrated in his hands the most varied and extensive powers. not only did he hold, like his predecessors, the _personnel_ of the establishment entirely at his discretion, but he used the appropriations which were voted to him with a very great independence. thanks to the universal renown which he had acquired both in science and in literature, buffon maintained with the men who succeeded one another in office relations which enabled him to do almost anything he liked at the royal garden." his manner to public men, as condorcet said, was conciliatory and tactful, and to his subordinates he was modest and unpretending. (professor g. t. hamy, _les derniers jours du jardin du roi_, etc., p.  .) buffon, after nearly fifty years of service as intendant, died april  , . chapter iii lamarck's share in the reorganization of the jardin des plantes and museum of natural history even in his humble position as keeper of the herbarium, with its pitiable compensation, lamarck, now an eminent botanist, with a european reputation, was by no means appreciated or secure in his position. he was subjected to many worries, and, already married and with several children, suffered from a grinding poverty. his friend and supporter, la billarderie, was a courtier, with much influence at the tuileries, but as intendant of the royal garden without the least claim to scientific fitness for the position; and in he was on the point of discharging lamarck.[ ] on the th of august the finance committee reduced the expenses of the royal garden and cabinet, and, while raising the salary of the professor of botany, to make good the deficiency thus ensuing suppressed the position of keeper of the herbarium, filled by lamarck. lamarck, on learning of this, acted promptly, and though in this cavalier way stricken off from the rolls of the royal garden, he at once prepared, printed, and distributed among the members of the national assembly an energetic claim for restoration to his office.[ ] his defence formed two brochures; in one he gave an account of his life, travels, and works, and in the other he showed that the place which he filled was a pressing necessity, and could not be conveniently or usefully added to that of the professor of botany, who was already overworked. this manly and able plea in his own defence also comprised a broad, comprehensive plan for the organization and development of a great national museum, combining both vast collections and adequate means of public instruction. the paper briefly stated, in courteous language, what he wished to say to public men, in general animated with good intentions, but little versed in the study of the sciences and the knowledge of their application. it praised, in fit terms, the work of the national assembly, and gave, without too much emphasis, the assurance of an entire devotion to the public business. then in a very clear and comprehensive way were given all the kinds of service which an establishment like the royal garden should render to the sciences and arts, and especially to agriculture, medicine, commerce, etc. museums, galleries, and botanical gardens; public lectures and demonstrations in the museum and school of botany; an office for giving information, the distribution of seeds, etc.--all the resources already so varied, as well as the facilities for work at the jardin, passed successively in review before the representatives of the country, and the address ended in a modest request to the assembly that its author be allowed a few days to offer some observations regarding the future organization of this great institution. the assembly, adopting the wise views announced in the manifest which had been presented by the officers of the jardin and cabinet, sent the address to the committee, and gave a month's time to the petitioners to prepare and present a plan and regulations which should establish the organization of their establishment.[ ] it was in that the decisive step was taken by the officers of the royal garden[ ] and cabinet of natural history which led to the organization of the present museum of natural history as it is to-day. throughout the proceedings, lamarck, as at the outset, took a prominent part, his address having led the assembly to invite the officers of the double establishment to draw up rules for its government. the officers met together august  d, and their distrust and hostility against the intendant were shown by their nomination of daubenton, the nestor of the french savants, to the presidency, although la billarderie, as representing the royal authority, was present at the meeting. at the second meeting (august  th) he took no part in the proceedings, and absented himself from the third, held on august  , . it will be seen that even while the office of intendant lasted, that official took no active part in the meetings or in the work of the institution, and from that day to this it has been solely under the management of a director and scientific corps of professors, all of them original investigators as well as teachers. certainly the most practical and efficient sort of organization for such an establishment.[ ] lamarck, though holding a place subordinate to the other officers, was present, as the records of the proceedings of the officers of the jardin des plantes at this meeting show. during the middle of , the intendant, la billarderie, after "four years of incapacity," placed his resignation in the hands of the king. the minister of the interior, instead of nominating daubenton as intendant, reserved the place for a _protégé_, and, july  , , sent in the name of jacques-henri bernardin de saint-pierre, the distinguished author of _paul et virginie_ and of _Études sur la nature_. the new intendant was literary in his tastes, fond of nature, but not a practical naturalist. m. hamy wittily states that "bernardin saint-pierre contemplated and dreamed, and in his solitary meditations had imagined a system of the world which had nothing in common with that which was to be seen in the faubourg saint victor, and one can readily imagine the welcome that the officers of the jardin gave to the singular naturalist the tuileries had sent them."[ ] lamarck suffered an indignity from the intermeddling of this second intendant of the jardin. in his budget of expenses[ ] sent to the minister of the interior, bernardin de saint-pierre took occasion to refer to lamarck in a disingenuous and blundering way, which may have both amused and disgusted him. but the last days of the jardin du roi were drawing to a close, and a new era in french natural science, signalized by the reorganization of the jardin and cabinet under the name of the _muséum d'histoire naturelle_, was dawning. on the th of february, , the national convention, at the request of lakanal,[ ] ordered the committees of public instruction and of finances to at once make a report on the new organization of the administration of the jardin des plantes. lakanal consulted with daubenton, and inquired into the condition and needs of the establishment; daubenton placed in his hands the brochure of , written by lamarck. the next day lakanal, after a short conference with his colleagues of the committee of public instruction, read in the tribune a short report and a decree which the committee adopted without discussion. their minds were elsewhere, for grave news had come in from all quarters. the austrians were bombarding valenciennes, the prussians had invested mayence, the spanish were menacing perpignan, and bands of vendeans had seized saumur after a bloody battle; while at caen, at evreux, at bordeaux, at marseilles, and elsewhere, muttered the thunders of the outbreaks provoked by the proscription of the girondins. so that under these alarming conditions the decree of the th of june, in spite of its importance to science and higher learning in france, was passed without discussion. in his _lamarck_ de mortillet states explicitly that lamarck, in his address of , changed the name of the jardin du roi to jardin des plantes.[ ] as the article states, "entirely devoted to his studies, lamarck entered into no intrigue under the falling monarchy, so he always remained in a position straitened and inferior to his merits." it was owing to this and his retired mode of life that the single-minded student of nature was not disturbed in his studies and meditations by the revolution. and when the name of the jardin du roi threatened to be fatal to this establishment, it was he who presented a memoir to transform it, under the name of jardin des plantes, into an institution of higher instruction, with six professors. in , lakanal adopted lamarck's plan, and, enlarging upon it, created twelve chairs for the teaching of the natural sciences. bourguin thus puts the matter: "in june, , lakanal, having learned that 'the vandals' (that is his expression) had demanded of the tribune of the convention the suppression of the royal garden, as being an annex of the king's palace, recurred to the memoirs of lamarck presented in and gave his plan of organization. he inspired himself with lamarck's ideas, but enlarged upon them. instead of six positions of professors-administrative, which lamarck asked for, lakanal established twelve chairs for the teaching of different branches of natural science."[ ] footnotes: [ ] another intended victim of la billarderie, whose own salary had been at the same time reduced, was faujas de saint-fond, one of the founders of geology. but his useful discoveries in economic geology having brought him distinction, the king had generously pensioned him, and he was retained in office on the printed _État_ distributed by the committee of finance. (hamy, _l. c._, p.  .) [ ] hamy, _l. c._, p.  . this brochure, of which i possess a copy, is a small quarto pamphlet of fifteen pages, signed, on the last page, "_j. b. lamarck, ancien officier au régiment de beaujolais, de l'académie des sciences de paris, botaniste attaché au cabinet d'histoire naturelle du jardin des plantes_." [ ] hamy, _l. c._, p.  ; also _pièces justificatives_, nos.  _et_ , pp.  - . the intendant of the garden was completely ignored, and his unpopularity and inefficiency led to his resignation. but meanwhile, in his letter to condorcet, the perpetual secretary of the institute of france, remonstrating against the proposed suppression by the assembly of the place of intendant, he partially retracted his action against lamarck, saying that lamarck's work, "_peut être utile, mais n'est pas absolutement nécessaire_." the intendant, as hamy adds, knew well the value of the services rendered by lamarck at the royal garden, and that, as a partial recompense, he had been appointed botanist to the museum. he also equally well knew that the author of the _flore française_ was in a most precarious situation and supported on his paltry salary a family of seven persons, as he was already at this time married and had five children. "but his own place was in peril, and he did not hesitate to sacrifice the poor savant whom he had himself installed as keeper of the herbarium." (hamy, _l. c._, pp.  , .) [ ] the first idea of the foundation of the jardin dates from , but the actual carrying out of the conception was in . the first act of installation took place in . gui de la brosse, in order to please his high protectors, the first physicians of the king, named his establishment _jardin des plantes medicinales_. it was renovated by fagon, who was born in the jardin, and whose mother was the niece of gui de la brosse. by his disinterestedness, activity, and great scientific capacity, he regenerated the garden, and under his administration flourished the great professors, duverney, tournefort, geoffroy the chemist, and others (perrier, _l. c._, p.  ). fagon was succeeded by buffon, "the new legislator and second founder." his intendancy lasted from to . [ ] three days after, august  th, the report was ready, the discussion began, and the foundations of the new organization were definitely laid. "no longer any jardin or cabinets, but a museum of natural history, whose aim was clearly defined. no officers with unequal functions; all are professors and all will give instruction. they elect themselves and present to the king _a candidate for each vacant place_. _finally, the general administration of the museum will be confided to the officers of the establishment_, this implying the suppression of the intendancy." (hamy, _l. c._, p.  .) [ ] hamy, _l. c._, p.  . the faubourg saint victor was a part of the quartier latin, and included the jardin des plantes. [ ] _devis de la dépense du jardin national des plantes et du cabinet d'histoire naturelle pour l'année _, presented to the national convention by citoyen bernardin de saint-pierre. in it appeared a note relative to lamarck, which, after stating that, though full of zeal and of knowledge of botany, his time was not entirely occupied; that for two months he had written him in regard to the duties of his position; referred to the statements of two of his seniors, who repeated the old gossip as to the claim of la billarderie that his place was useless, and also found fault with him for not recognizing the artificial system of linné in the arrangement of the herbarium, added: "however, desirous of retaining m. la marck, father of six children, in the position which he needs, and not wishing to let his talents be useless, after several conversations with the older officers of the jardin, i have believed that, m. desfontaines being charged with the botanical lectures in the school, and m. jussieu in the neighborhood of paris, it would be well to send m. la marck to herborize in some parts of the kingdom, in order to complete the french flora, as this will be to his taste, and at the same time very useful to the progress of botany; thus everybody will be employed and satisfied."--perrier, _lamarck et le transformisme actuel_, pp.  , . (copied from the national archives.) "the life of bernardin de st. pierre ( - ) was nearly as irregular as that of his friend and master [rousseau]. but his character was essentially crafty and selfish, like that of many other sentimentalists of the first order." (morley's _rousseau_, p.  , footnote.) [ ] joseph lakanal was born in , and died in . he was a professor of philosophy in a college of the oratory, and doctor of the faculty at angers, when in he was sent as a representative (_député_) to the national convention, and being versed in educational questions he was placed on the committee of public instruction and elected its president. he was the means, as hamy states, of saving from a lamentable destruction, by rejuvenizing them, the scientific institutions of ancient france. during the revolution he voted for the death of louis xvi. lakanal also presented a plan of organization of a national institute, what is now the institut de france, and was charged with designating the first forty-eight members, who should elect all the others. he was by the first forty-eight thus elected. proscribed as a regicide at the second restoration, he sailed for the united states, where he was warmly welcomed by jefferson. the united states congress voted him five hundred acres of land. the government of louisiana offered him the presidency of its university, which, however, he did not accept. in he went to live on the shores of mobile bay on land which he purchased from the proceeds of the sale of the land given him by congress. here he became a pioneer and planter. in he manifested a desire to return to his native country, and offered his services to the new government, but received no answer and was completely ignored. but two years later, thanks to the initiative of geoffroy st. hilaire, who was the means of his reëlection to the french academy, he decided to return, and did so in . he lived in retirement in paris, where he occupied himself until his death in in writing a book entitled _séjour d'un membre de l'institut de france aux États-unis pendant vingt-deux ans_. the manuscript mysteriously disappeared, no trace of it ever having been found. (larousse, _grand dictionnaire universel_, art. lakanal.) his bust now occupies a prominent place among those of other great men in the french academy of sciences. [ ] this is seen to be the case by the title of the pamphlet: _mémoire sur les cabinets d'histoire naturelle, et particulièrement sur celui du jardin des plantes_. [ ] bourguin also adds that "on one point lamarck, with more foresight, went farther than lakanal. he had insisted on the necessity of the appointment of four demonstrators for zoölogy. in the decree of june  , , they were even reduced to two. afterwards they saw that this number was insufficient, and to-day ( ) the department of zoölogy is administered at the museum by four professors, in conformity with the division indicated by lamarck." chapter iv professor of invertebrate zoÖlogy at the museum lamarck's career as a botanist comprised about twenty-five years. we now come to the third stage of his life--lamarck the zoölogist and evolutionist. he was in his fiftieth year when he assumed the duties of his professorship of the zoölogy of the invertebrate animals; and at a period when many men desire rest and freedom from responsibility, with the vigor of an intellectual giant lamarck took upon his shoulders new labors in an untrodden field both in pure science and philosophic thought. it was now the summer of , and on the eve of the reign of terror, when paris, from early in october until the end of the year, was in the deadliest throes of revolution. the dull thud of the guillotine, placed in front of the tuileries, in the place de la revolution, which is now the place de la concorde, a little to the east of where the obelisk of luxor now stands, could almost be heard by the quiet workers in the museum, for sansculottism in its most aggressive and hideous forms raged not far from the jardin des plantes, then just on the border of the densest part of the paris of the first revolution. lavoisier, the founder of modern chemistry, was guillotined some months later. the abbé haüy, the founder of crystallography, had been, the year previous, rescued from prison by young geoffroy st. hilaire, his neck being barely saved from the gleaming axe. roland, the friend of science and letters, had been so hunted down that at rouen, in a moment of despair, on hearing of his wife's death, he thrust his sword-cane through his heart. madame roland had been beheaded, as also a cousin of her husband, and we can well imagine that these fateful summer and autumn days were scarcely favorable to scientific enterprises.[ ] still, however, amid the loud alarums of this social tempest, the museum underwent a new birth which proved not to be untimely. the minister of the interior (garat) invited the professors of the museum to constitute an assembly to nominate a director and a treasurer, and he begged them to present extracts of their deliberations for him to send to the executive council, "under the supervision of which the national museum is for the future placed;" though in general the assembly only reported to the minister matters relating to the expenses, the first annual grant of the museum being ,  livres. four days after, june  th, the assembly met and adopted the name of the establishment in the following terms: _muséum d'histoire naturelle décrété par la convention nationale le  juin, _; and at a meeting held on the th of july the assembly definitely organized the first bureau, with daubenton as director, thouin treasurer, and desfontaines secretary. lamarck, as the records show, was present at all these meetings, and at the first one, june  th, lamarck and fourcroy were designated as commissioners for the formation of the museum library. all this was done without the aid or presence of bernardin de saint-pierre, the intendant. the minister of the interior, meanwhile, had communicated to him the decision of the national convention, and invited him to continue his duties up to the moment when the new organization should be established. after remaining in his office until july  th, he retired from the museum august  th following, and finally withdrew to the country at essones. the organization of the museum is the same now as in , having for over a century been the chief biological centre of france, and with its magnificent collections was never more useful in the advancement of science than at this moment. let us now look at the composition of the assembly of professors, which formed the board of administration of the museum at the time of his appointment. the associates of lamarck and geoffroy st. hilaire, who had already been connected with the royal garden and cabinet, were daubenton, thouin, desfontaines, portal, and mertrude. the nestor of the faculty was daubenton, who was born in . he was the collaborator of buffon in the first part of his _histoire naturelle_, and the author of treatises on the mammals and of papers on the bats and other mammals, also on reptiles, together with embryological and anatomical essays. thouin, the professor of horticulture, was the veteran gardener and architect of the jardin des plantes, and withal a most useful man. he was affable, modest, genial, greatly beloved by his students, a man of high character, and possessing much executive ability. a street near the jardin was named after him. he was succeeded by bosc. desfontaines had the chair of botany, but his attainments as a botanist were mediocre, and his lectures were said to have been tame and uninteresting. portal taught human anatomy, while mertrude lectured on vertebrate anatomy; his chair was filled by cuvier in . of this group lamarck was _facile princeps_, as he combined great sagacity and experience as a systematist with rare intellectual and philosophic traits. for this reason his fame has perhaps outlasted that of his young contemporary, geoffroy st. hilaire. the necessities of the museum led to the division of the chair of zoölogy, botany being taught by desfontaines. and now began a new era in the life of lamarck. after twenty-five years spent in botanical research he was compelled, as there seemed nothing else for him to undertake, to assume charge of the collection of invertebrate animals, and to him was assigned that enormous, chaotic mass of forms then known as molluscs, insects, worms, and microscopic animals. had he continued to teach botany, we might never have had the lamarck of biology and biological philosophy. but turned adrift in a world almost unexplored, he faced the task with his old-time bravery and dogged persistence, and at once showed the skill of a master mind in systematic work. the two new professorships in zoölogy were filled, one by lamarck, previously known as a botanist, and the other by the young Étienne geoffroy st. hilaire, then twenty-two years old, who was at that time a student of haüy, and in charge of the minerals, besides teaching mineralogy with especial reference to crystallography. to geoffroy was assigned the four classes of vertebrates, but in reality he only occupied himself with the mammals and birds. afterwards lacépède[ ] took charge of the reptiles and fishes. on the other hand, lamarck's field comprised more than nine-tenths of the animal kingdom. already the collections of insects, crustacea, worms, molluscs, echinoderms, corals, etc., at the museum were enormous. at this time france began to send out those exploring expeditions to all parts of the globe which were so numerous and fruitful during the first third of the nineteenth century. the task of arranging and classifying single-handed this enormous mass of material was enough to make a young man quail, and it is a proof of the vigor, innate ability, and breadth of view of the man that in this pioneer work he not only reduced to some order this vast horde of forms, but showed such insight and brought about such radical reforms in zoölogical classification, especially in the foundation and limitation of certain classes, an insight no one before him had evinced. to him and to latreille much of the value of the _règne animal_ of cuvier, as regards invertebrate classes, is due. the exact title of the chair held by lamarck is given in the _État_ of persons attached to the national museum of natural history at the date of the er messidor, an ii. of the republic ( ), where he is mentioned as follows: "lamarck--fifty years old; married for the second time; wife _enceinte_; six children; professor of zoölogy, of insects, of worms, and microscopic animals." his salary, like that of the other professors, was put at ,  livres,  sous,  deniers.[ ] Étienne geoffroy st. hilaire[ ] has related how the professorship was given to lamarck. "the law of had prescribed that all parts of the natural sciences should be equally taught. the insects, shells, and an infinity of organisms--a portion of creation still almost unknown--remained to be treated in such a course. a desire to comply with the wishes of his colleagues, members of the administration, and without doubt, also, the consciousness of his powers as an investigator, determined m. de lamarck: this task, so great, and which would tend to lead him into numberless researches; this friendless, unthankful task he accepted--courageous resolution, which has resulted in giving us immense undertakings and great and important works, among which posterity will distinguish and honor forever the work which, entirely finished and collected into seven volumes, is known under the name of _animaux sans vertèbres_." before his appointment to this chair lamarck had devoted considerable attention to the study of conchology, and already possessed a rather large collection of shells. his last botanical paper appeared in , but practically his botanical studies were over by . during the early years of the revolution, namely, from to and including , lamarck published nothing. whether this was naturally due to the social convulsions and turmoil which raged around the jardin des plantes, or to other causes, is not known. in , however, lamarck and his friends and colleagues, bruguière, olivier, and the abbé haüy, founded the _journal d'histoire naturelle_, which contains nineteen botanical articles, two on shells, besides one on physics, by lamarck. these, with many articles by other men of science, illustrated by plates, indicate that during the years of social unrest and upheaval in paris, and though france was also engaged in foreign wars, the philosophers preserved in some degree, at least, the traditional calm of their profession, and passed their days and nights in absorption in matters biological and physical. in appeared his _système des animaux sans vertèbres_, preceded by the opening discourse of his lectures on the lower animals, in which his views on the origin of species were first propounded. during the years - , or for a period of six years, he published nothing on zoölogy, and during this time only one paper appeared, in , on the influence of the moon on the earth's atmosphere. but as his memoirs on fire and on sound were published in , it is evident that his leisure hours during this period, when not engaged in museum work and the preparation of his lectures, were devoted to meditations on physical and meteorological subjects, and most probably it was towards the end of this period that he brooded over and conceived his views on organic evolution. it appears that he was led, in the first place, to conchological studies through his warm friendship for a fellow naturalist, and this is one of many proofs of his affectionate, generous nature. the touching story is told by Étienne geoffroy st. hilaire.[ ] "it was impossible to assign him a professorship of botany. m. de lamarck, then forty-nine years old, accepted this change in his scientific studies to take charge of that which everybody had neglected; because it was, indeed, a heavy load, this branch of natural history, where, with so varied relations, everything was to be created. on one group he was a little prepared, but it was by accident; a self-sacrifice to friendship was the cause. for it was both to please his friend bruguière as well as to penetrate more deeply into the affections of this very reserved naturalist, and also to converse with him in the only language which he wished to hear, which was restricted to conversations on shells, that m. de lamarck had made some conchological studies. oh, how, in , did he regret that his friend had gone to persia! he had wished, he had planned, that he should take the professorship which it was proposed to create. he would at least supply his place; it was in answer to the yearnings of his soul, and this affectionate impulse became a fundamental element in the nature of one of the greatest of zoölogical geniuses of our epoch." once settled in his new line of work, lamarck, the incipient zoölogist, at a period in life when many students of less flexible and energetic natures become either hide-bound and conservative, averse to taking up a different course of study, or actually cease all work and rust out--after a half century of his life had passed, this rare spirit, burning with enthusiasm, charged like some old-time knight or explorer into a new realm and into "fresh fields and pastures new." his spirit, still young and fresh after nearly thirty years of mental toil, so unrequited in material things, felt a new stimulus as he began to investigate the lower animals, so promising a field for discovery. he said himself: "that which is the more singular is that the most important phenomena to be considered have been offered to our meditations only since the time when attention has been paid to the animals least perfect, and when researches on the different complications of the organization of these animals have become the principal foundation of their study. it is not less singular to realize that it was almost always from the examination of the smallest objects which nature presents to us, and that of considerations which seem to us the most minute, that we have obtained the most important knowledge to enable us to arrive at the discovery of her laws, and to determine her course." after a year of preparation he opened his course at the museum in the spring of . in his introductory lecture, given in , after ten years of work on the lower animals, he addressed his class in these words: "indeed it is among those animals which are the most multiplied and numerous in nature, and the most ready to regenerate themselves, that we should seek the most instructive facts bearing on the course of nature, and on the means she has employed in the creation of her innumerable productions. in this case we perceive that, relatively to the animal kingdom, we should chiefly devote our attention to the invertebrate animals, because their enormous multiplicity in nature, the singular diversity of their systems of organization and of their means of multiplication, their increasing simplification, and the extreme fugacity of those which compose the lowest orders of these animals, show us, much better than the higher animals, the true course of nature, and the means which she has used and which she still unceasingly employs to give existence to all the living bodies of which we have knowledge." during this decade ( - ) and the one succeeding, lamarck's mind grew and expanded. before , however much he may have brooded over the matter, we have no utterances in print on the transformation theory. his studies on the lower animals, and his general knowledge of the vertebrates derived from the work of his contemporaries and his observations in the museum and menagerie, gave him a broad grasp of the entire animal kingdom, such as no one before him had. as the result, his comprehensive mind, with its powers of rapid generalization, enabled him to appreciate the series from monad (his _ébauche_) to man, the range of forms from the simple to the complex. even though not a comparative anatomist like cuvier, he made use of the latter's discoveries, and could understand and appreciate the gradually increasing complexity of forms; and, unlike cuvier, realize that they were blood relations, and not separate, piece-meal creations. animal life, so immeasurably higher than vegetable forms, with its highly complex physiological functions and varied means of reproduction, and the relations of its forms to each other and to the world around, affords facts for evolution which were novel to lamarck, the descriptive botanist. [illustration: birthplace of lamarck. rear view, from the west] [illustration: maison de buffon, in which lamarck lived in paris. - ] in accordance with the rules of the museum, which required that all the professors should be lodged within the limits of the jardin, the choice of lodgings being given to the oldest professors, lamarck, at the time of his appointment, took up his abode in the house now known as the maison de buffon, situated on the opposite side of the jardin des plantes from the house afterwards inhabited by cuvier, and in the angle between the galerie de zoologie and the museum library.[ ] with little doubt the windows of his study, where his earlier addresses, the _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_, and the _philosophie zoologique_, were probably written, looked out upon what is now the court on the westerly side of the house, that facing the rue geoffroy st. hilaire. at the time of his entering on his duties as professor of zoölogy, lamarck was in his fiftieth year. he had married twice and was the father of six children, and without fortune. he married for a third, and afterwards for a fourth time, and in all, seven children were born to him, as in the year ( ) the minute referring to his request for an indemnity states: "il est chargé de sept enfans dont un est sur les vaisseaux de la république." another son was an artist, as shown by the records of the assembly of the museum for september  , , when he asked for a chamber in the lodgings of thouin, for the use of his son, "_peintre_." geoffroy st. hilaire, in , spoke of one of his sons, m. auguste de lamarck, as a skilful and highly esteemed engineer of ponts-et-chaussées, then advantageously situated. but man cannot live by scientific researches and philosophic meditations alone. the history of lamarck's life is painful from beginning to end. with his large family and slender salary he was never free from carking cares and want. on the  fructidor, an ii. of the republic, the national convention voted the sum of ,  livres, with which an indemnity was to be paid to citizens eminent in literature and art. lamarck had sacrificed much time and doubtless some money in the preparation and publication of his works, and he felt that he had a just claim to be placed on the list of those who had been useful to the republic, and at the same time could give proof of their good citizenship, and of their right to receive such indemnity or appropriation. accordingly, in he sent in a letter, which possesses much autobiographical interest, to the committee of public instruction, in which he says: "during the twenty-six years that he has lived in paris the citizen lamarck has unceasingly devoted himself to the study of natural history, and particularly botany. he has done it successfully, for it is fifteen years since he published under the title of _flore française_ the history and description of the plants of france, with the mention of their properties and of their usefulness in the arts; a work printed at the expense of the government, well received by the public, and which now is much sought after and very rare." he then describes his second great botanical undertaking, the _encyclopædia and illustration of genera_, with nine hundred plates. he states that for ten years past he has kept busy "a great number of parisian artists, three printing presses for different works, besides delivering a course of lectures." the petition was granted. at about this period a pension of twelve hundred francs from the academy of sciences, and which had increased to three thousand francs, had ceased eighteen months previously to be paid to him. but at the time (an ii.) lamarck was "chargé de sept enfans," and this appropriation was a most welcome addition to his small salary. the next year (an iii.) he again applied for a similar allowance from the funds providing an indemnity for men of letters and artists "whose talents are useful to the republic." again referring to the _flore française_, and his desire to prepare a second edition of it, and his other works and travels in the interest of botanical science, he says: "if i had been less overburdened by needs of all kinds for some years, and especially since the suppression of my pension from the aforesaid academy of sciences, i should prepare the second edition of this useful work; and this would be, without doubt, indeed, the opportunity of making a new present to my country. "since my return to france i have worked on the completion of my great botanical enterprises, and indeed for about ten years past my works have obliged me to keep in constant activity a great number of artists, such as draughtsmen, engravers, and printers. but these important works that i have begun, and have in a well-advanced state, have been in spite of all my efforts suspended and practically abandoned for the last ten years. the loss of my pension from the academy of sciences and the enormous increase in the price of articles of subsistence have placed me, with my numerous family, in a state of distress which leaves me neither the time nor the freedom from care to cultivate science in a fruitful way." lamarck's collection of shells, the accumulation of nearly thirty years,[ ] was purchased by the government at the price of five thousand livres. this sum was used by him to balance the price of a national estate for which he had contracted by virtue of the law of  ventôse de l'an iv.[ ] this little estate, which was the old domain of beauregard, was a modest farm-house or country-house at héricourt-saint-samson, in the department of seine-et-oise, not far to the northward of beauvais, and about fifty miles from paris. it is probable that as a proprietor of a landed property he passed the summer season, or a part of it, on this estate. this request was, we may believe, made from no unworthy or mercenary motive, but because he thought that such an indemnity was his due. some years after (in ) the chair of zoölogy, newly formed by the faculté des sciences in paris, was offered to him. desirable as the salary would have been in his straitened circumstances, he modestly refused the offer, because he felt unable at that time of life (he was, however, but sixty-five years of age) to make the studies required worthily to occupy the position. one of lamarck's projects, which he was never able to carry out, for it was even then quite beyond the powers of any man single-handed to undertake, was his _système de la nature_. we will let him describe it in his own words, especially since the account is somewhat autobiographical. it is the second memoir he addressed to the committee of public instruction of the national convention, dated  vendémiaire, l'an iii. ( ): "in my first memoir i have given you an account of the works which i have published and of those which i have undertaken to contribute to the progress of natural history; also of the travels and researches which i have made. "but for a long time i have had in view a very important work--perhaps better adapted for education in france than those i have already composed or undertaken--a work, in short, which the national convention should without doubt order, and of which no part could be written so advantageously as in paris, where are to be found abundant means for carrying it to completion. "this is a _système de la nature_, a work analogous to the _systema naturæ_ of linnæus, but written in french, and presenting the picture complete, concise, and methodical, of all the natural productions observed up to this day. this important work (of linnæus), which the young frenchmen who intend to devote themselves to the study of natural history always require, is the object of speculations by foreign authors, and has already passed through thirteen different editions. moreover, their works, which, to our shame, we have to use, because we have none written expressly for us, are filled (especially the last edition edited by gmelin) with gross mistakes, omissions of double and triple occurrence, and errors in synonymy, and present many generic characters which are inexact or imperceptible and many series badly divided, or genera too numerous in species, and difficulties insurmountable to students. "if the committee of public instruction had the time to devote any attention to the importance of my project, to the utility of publishing such a work, and perhaps to the duty prescribed by the national honor, i would say to it that, after having for a long time reflected and meditated and determined upon the most feasible plan, finally after having seen amassed and prepared the most essential materials, i offer to put this beautiful project into execution. i have not lost sight of the difficulties of this great enterprise. i am, i believe, as well aware of them, and better, than any one else; but i feel that i can overcome them without descending to a simple and dishonorable compilation of what foreigners have written on the subject. i have some strength left to sacrifice for the common advantage; i have had some experience and practice in writing works of this kind; my herbarium is one of the richest in existence; my numerous collection of shells is almost the only one in france the specimens of which are determined and named according to the method adopted by modern naturalists--finally, i am in a position to profit by all the aid which is to be found in the national museum of natural history. with these means brought together, i can then hope to prepare in a suitable manner this interesting work. "i had at first thought that the work should be executed by a society of naturalists; but after having given this idea much thought, and having already the example of the new encyclopædia, i am convinced that in such a case the work would be very defective in arrangement, without unity or plan, without any harmony of principles, and that its composition might be interminable. "written with the greatest possible conciseness, this work could not be comprised in less than eight volumes in vo, namely: one volume for the quadrupeds and birds; one volume for the reptiles and fishes; two volumes for the insects; one volume for the worms (the molluscs, madrepores, lithophytes, and naked worms); two volumes for the plants; one volume for the minerals: eight volumes in all. "it is impossible to prepare in france a work of this nature without having special aid from the nation, because the expense of printing (on account of the enormous quantity of citations and figures which it would contain) would be such that any arrangement with the printer or the manager of the edition could not remunerate the author for writing such an immense work. "if the nation should wish to print the work at its own expense, and then give to the author the profits of the sale of this edition, the author would be very much pleased, and would doubtless not expect any further aid. but it would cost the nation a great deal, and i believe that this useful project could be carried through with greater economy. "indeed, if the nation will give me twenty thousand francs, in a single payment, i will take the whole responsibility, and i agree, if i live, that before the expiration of seven years the _système de la nature_ in french, with the complemental addition, the corrections, and the convenient explanations, shall be at the disposition of all those who love or study natural history." footnotes: [ ] most men of science of the revolution, like monge and others, were advanced republicans, and the chevalier lamarck, though of noble birth, was perhaps not without sympathy with the ideas which led to the establishment of the republic. it is possible that in his walks and intercourse with rousseau he may have been inspired with the new notions of liberty and equality first promulgated by that philosopher. his studies and meditations were probably not interrupted by the events of the terror. stevens, in his history of the french revolution, tells us that paris was never gayer than in the summer of , and that during the reign of terror the restaurants, _cafés_, and theatres were always full. there were never more theatres open at the same period than then, though no single great play or opera was produced. meanwhile the great painter david at this time built up a school of art and made that city a centre for art students. indeed the revolution was "a grand time for enthusiastic young men," while people in general lived their ordinary lives. there is little doubt, then, that the savants, except the few who were occupied by their duties as members of the _convention nationale_, worked away quietly at their specialties, each in his own study or laboratory or lecture-room. [ ] bern. germ. Étienne, comte de lacépède, born in , died in , was elected professor of the zoölogy of "quadrupedes ovipares, reptiles, et poissons," january  , (records of the museum). he was the author of works on amphibia, reptiles, and mammals, forming continuations of buffon's _histoire naturelle_. he also published _histoire naturelle des poissons_ ( - ), _histoire des cétacés_ ( ), and _histoire naturelle de l'homme_ ( ), _les ages de la nature et histoire de l'espèce humaine_, tome  , . [ ] perrier, _l. c._, p.  . [ ] _fragments biographiques_, p.  . [ ] _fragments biographiques_, p.  . [ ] a few years ago, when we formed the plan of writing his life, we wrote to friends in paris for information as to the exact house in which lamarck lived, and received the answer that it was unknown; another proof of the neglect and forgetfulness that had followed lamarck so many years after his death, and which was even manifested before he died. afterwards professor giard kindly wrote that by reference to the _procès verbaux_ of the assembly, it had been found by professor hamy that he had lived in the house of buffon. the house is situated at the corner of rue de buffon and rue geoffroy st. hilaire. the courtyard facing rue geoffroy st. hilaire bears the number   rue de buffon, and is in the angle between the galerie de zoologie and the bibliothèque. the edifice is a large four-storied one. lamarck occupied the second _étage_, what we should call the third story; it was first occupied by buffon. his bedroom, where he died, was on the _premier étage_. it was tenanted by de quatrefages in his time, and is at present occupied by professor g. t. hamy; professor l. vaillant living in the first _étage_, or second story, and dr. j. deniker, the _bibliothécaire_ and learned anthropologist, in the third. the second _étage_ was, about fifty years ago ( - ), renovated for the use of fremy the chemist, so that the exact room occupied by lamarck as a study cannot be identified. this ancient house was originally called _la croix de fer_, and was built about two centuries before the foundation of the jardin du roi. it appears from an inspection of the notes on the titles and copies of the original deeds, preserved in the archives, and kindly shown me by professor g. t. hamy, the archivist of the museum, that this house was erected in , the deed being dated _ xbre_, . the house is referred to as _maison ditte la croix de fer_ in deeds of , , and . it was sold by charles roger to m. le compte de buffon, march  , . one of the old gardens overlooked by it was called _de jardin de la croix_. it was originally the first structure erected on the south side of the jardin du roi. [ ] in the "avertissement" to his _système des animaux sans vertèbres_ ( ), after stating that he had at his disposition the magnificent collection of invertebrate animals of the museum, he refers to his private collection as follows: "et une autre assez riche que j'ai formée moi-même par près de trente années de recherches," p. vii. afterwards he formed another collection of shells named according to his system, and containing a part of the types described in his _histoire naturelle des animaux sans vertèbres_ and in his minor articles. this collection the government did not acquire, and it is now in the museum at geneva. the paris museum, however, possesses a good many of the lamarckian types, which are on exhibition (perrier, _l. c._, p.  ). [ ] _lettre du ministre des finances (de ramel) au ministre de l'intérieur_ (  pr. an v.). see perrier, _l. c._, p.  . chapter v last days and death lamarck's life was saddened and embittered by the loss of four wives, and the pangs of losing three of his children;[ ] also by the rigid economy he had to practise and the unending poverty of his whole existence. a very heavy blow to him and to science was the loss, at an advanced age, of his eyesight. it was, apparently, not a sudden attack of blindness, for we have hints that at times he had to call in latreille and others to aid him in the study of the insects. the continuous use of the magnifying lens and the microscope, probably, was the cause of enfeebled eyesight, resulting in complete loss of vision. duval[ ] states that he passed the last ten years of his life in darkness; that his loss of sight gradually came on until he became completely blind. in the reports of the meetings of the board of professors there is but one reference to his blindness. previous to this we find that, at his last appearance at these sessions--_i.e._, april  , --since his condition did not permit him to give his course of lectures, he had asked m. latreille to fill his place; but such was the latter's health, he proposed that m. audouin, sub-librarian of the french institute, should lecture in his stead, on the invertebrate animals. this was agreed to. the next reference, and the only explicit one, is that in the records for may  , , as follows: "vu la cécité dont m. de lamarck est frappé, m. bosc[ ] continuera d'exercer sur les parties confiert à m. audouin la surveillance attribuée au professeur." but, according to duval, long before this he had been unable to use his eyes. in his _système analytique des connaissances positives de l'homme_, published in , he refers to the sudden loss of his eyesight. even in advanced life lamarck seems not to have suffered from ill-health, despite the fact that he apparently during the last thirty years of his life lived in a very secluded way. whether he went out into the world, to the theatre, or even went away from paris and the museum into the country in his later years, is a matter of doubt. it is said that he was fond of novels, his daughters reading to him those of the best french authors. after looking with some care through the records of the sessions of the assembly of professors, we are struck with the evidences of his devotion to routine museum work and to his courses of lectures. at that time the museum sent out to the _Écoles centrales_ of the different departments of france named collections made up from the duplicates, and in this sort of drudgery lamarck took an active part. he also took a prominent share in the business of the museum, in the exchange and in the purchase of specimens and collections in his department, and even in the management of the menagerie. thus he reported on the dentition of the young lions (one dying from teething), on the illness and recovery of one of the elephants, on the generations of goats and kids in the park; also on a small-sized bull born of a small cow covered by a scottish bull, the young animal having, as he states, all the characters of the original. for one year ( ) he was secretary of the board of professors of the museum.[ ] the records of the meetings from  vendémiaire, l'an iii., until  vendémiaire, l'an iv., are each written in his bold, legible handwriting or signed by him. he signed his name _lamarck_, this period being that of the first republic. afterwards, in the records, his name is written _de lamarck_. he was succeeded by É. geoffroy st. hilaire, who signed himself plain _geoffroy_. in he acted as treasurer of the assembly, and again for a period of six years, until and including , when he resigned, the reason given being: "il s'occupe depuis six ans et que ses travaux et son age lui rendent penibles." lamarck was extremely regular in his attendance at these meetings. from until he rarely, if ever, missed a meeting. we have only observed in the records of this long period the absence of his name on two or three occasions from the list of those present. during and the following year it was his blindness which probably prevented his regular attendance. july  , , he was present, and presented the fifth volume of his _animaux sans vertèbres_; and august  , , he was present[ ] and laid before the assembly the sixth volume of the same great work. [illustration: portrait of lamarck, when old and blind, in the costume of a member of the institute, engraved in .] from the observations of the records we infer that lamarck never had any long, lingering illness or suffered from overwork, though his life had little sunshine or playtime in it. he must have had a strong constitution, his only infirmity being the terrible one (especially to an observer of nature) of total blindness. lamarck's greatest work in systematic zoölogy would never have been completed had it not been for the self-sacrificing spirit and devotion of his eldest daughter. a part of the sixth and the whole of the last volume of the _animaux sans vertèbres_ were presented to the assembly of professors september  , . this volume was dictated to and written out by one of his daughters, mlle. cornelie de lamarck. on her the aged savant leaned during the last ten years of his life--those years of failing strength and of blindness finally becoming total. the frail woman accompanied him in his hours of exercise, and when he was confined to his house she never left him. it is stated by cuvier, in his eulogy, that at her first walk out of doors after the end came she was nearly overcome by the fresh air, to which she had become so unaccustomed. she, indeed, practically sacrificed her life to her father. it is one of the rarest and most striking instances of filial devotion known in the annals of science or literature, and is a noticeable contrast to the daughters of the blind milton, whose domestic life was rendered unhappy by their undutifulness, as they were impatient of the restraint and labors his blindness had imposed upon them. besides this, the seventh volume is a voluminous scientific work, filled with very dry special details, making the labor of writing out from dictation, of corrections and preparation for the press, most wearisome and exhausting, to say nothing of the corrections of the proof-sheets, a task which probably fell to her--work enough to break down the health of a strong man. it was a natural and becoming thing for the assembly of professors of the museum, in view of the "malheureuse position de la famille," to vote to give her employment in the botanical laboratory in arranging and pasting the dried plants, with a salary of ,  francs. of the last illness of lamarck, and the nature of the sickness to which he finally succumbed, there is no account. it is probable that, enfeebled by the weakness of extreme old age, he gradually sank away without suffering from any acute disease. the exact date of his death has been ascertained by dr. mondière,[ ] with the aid of m. saint-joanny, archiviste du dèpartment de la seine, who made special search for the record. the "acte" states that december  , , lamarck, then a widower, died in the jardin du roi, at the age of eighty-five years. the obsequies, as stated in the _moniteur universel_ of paris for december  , , were celebrated on the sunday previous in the church of saint-médard, his parish. from the church the remains were borne to the cemetery of montparnasse. at the interment, which took place december  , m. latreille, in the name of the academy of sciences, and m. geoffroy st. hilaire, in the name and on behalf of his colleagues, the professors of the museum of natural history, pronounced eulogies at the grave. the eulogy prepared by cuvier, and published after his death, was read at a session of the academy of sciences, by baron silvestre, november  , . with the exception of these formalities, the great french naturalist, "the linné of france," was buried as one forgotten and unknown. we read with astonishment, in the account by dr. a. mondière, who made zealous inquiries for the exact site of the grave of lamarck, that it is and forever will be unknown. it is a sad and discreditable, and to us inexplicable, fact that his remains did not receive decent burial. they were not even deposited in a separate grave, but were thrown into a trench apparently situated apart from the other graves, and from which the bones of those thrown there were removed every five years. they are probably now in the catacombs of paris, mingled with those of the thousands of unknown or paupers in that great ossuary.[ ] dr. mondière's account is as follows. having found in the _moniteur_ the notice of the burial services, as above stated, he goes on to say: "armed with this document, i went again to the cemetery of montparnasse, where i fortunately found a conservator, m. lacave, who is entirely _au courant_ with the question of transformism. he therefore interested himself in my inquiries, and, thanks to him, i have been able to determine exactly where lamarck had been buried. i say had been, because, alas! he had been simply placed in a _trench off on one side_ (_fosse à part_), that is to say, one which should change its occupant at the end of five years. was it negligence, was it the jealousy of his colleagues, was it the result of the troubles of ? in brief, there had been no permission granted to purchase a burial lot. the bones of lamarck are probably at this moment mixed with those of all the other unknown which lie there. what had at first led us into an error is that we made the inquiries under the name of lamarck instead of that of de monnet. in reality, the register of inscription bears the following mention: "'de monnet de lamarck buried this  december (  years), d square, st division, d line, trench  .' "at some period later, a friendly hand, without doubt, had written on the margin of the register the following information: "'to the left of m. dassas.' "m. lacave kindly went with us to search for the place where lamarck had been interred, and on the register we saw this: "'dassas, st division, th line south, no.  to the west, concession - .' on arriving at the spot designated, we found some new graves, but nothing to indicate that of m. dassas, our only mark by which we could trace the site after the changes wrought since . after several ineffectual attempts, i finally perceived a flat grave, surrounded by an iron railing, and covered with weeds. its surface seemed to me very regular, and i probed this lot. there was a gravestone there. the grave-digger who accompanied us cleared away the surface, and i confess that it was with the greatest pleasure and with deep emotion that we read the name dassas. [illustration: position of the burial place of lamarck in the cemetery of montparnasse.] "we found the place, but unfortunately, as i have previously said, the remains of lamarck are no longer there." mondière added to his letter a little plan (p.  ), which he drew on the spot.[ ] but the life-work of lamarck and his theory of organic evolution, as well as the lessons of his simple and noble character, are more durable and lasting than any monument of stone or brass. his name will never be forgotten either by his own countrymen or by the world of science and philosophy. after the lapse of nearly a hundred years, and in this first year of the twentieth century, his views have taken root and flourished with a surprising strength and vigor, and his name is preëminent among the naturalists of his time. no monument exists in montparnasse, but within the last decade, though the reparation has come tardily, the bust of lamarck may be seen by visitors to the jardin des plantes, on the outer wall of the nouvelle galerie, containing the museums of comparative anatomy, palæontology, and anthropology. although the city of paris has not yet erected a monument to its greatest naturalist, some public recognition of his eminent services to the city and nation was manifested when the municipal council of paris, on february  , , gave the name lamarck to a street.[ ] this is a long and not unimportant street on the hill of montmartre in the xviii^e _arrondissement_, and in the zone of the old stone or gypsum quarries which existed before paris extended so far out in that direction, and from which were taken the fossil remains of the early tertiary mammals described by cuvier. the city of toulouse has also honored itself by naming one of its streets after lamarck; this was due to the proposal of professor Émile cartailhac to the municipal council, which voted to this effect may  , . in the meetings of the assembly of professors no one took the trouble to prepare and enter minutes, however brief and formal, relative to his decease. the death of lamarck is not even referred to in the _procès-verbaux_. this is the more marked because there is an entry in the same records for , and about the same date, of an extraordinary _séance_ held november  , , when "the assembly" was convoked to take measures regarding the death of professor vauquelin relative to the choice of a candidate, chevreul being elected to fill his chair. lamarck's chair was at his death divided, and the two professorships thus formed were given to latreille and de blainville. at the session of the assembly of professors held december  , , geoffroy st. hilaire sent in a letter to the assembly urging that the department of invertebrate animals be divided into two, and referred to the bad state of preservation of the insects, the force of assistants to care for these being insufficient. he also, in his usual tactful way, referred to the "_complaisance extrème de la parte de m. de lamarck_" in , in assenting to the reunion in a single professorship of the mass of animals then called "_insectes et vermes_." the two successors of the chair held by lamarck were certainly not dilatory in asking for appointments. at a session of the professors held december  , , the first meeting after his death, we find the following entry: "m. latreille écrit pour exprimer son désir d'être présenté comme candidat à la chaire vacante par le décès de m. lamarck et pour rappeler ses titres à cette place." m. de blainville also wrote in the same manner: "dans le cas que la chaire serait divisée, il demande la place de professeur de l'histoire des animaux inarticulés. dans le cas contraire il se présente également comme candidat, voulant, tout en respectant les droits acquis, ne pas laisser dans l'oubli ceux qui lui appartiennent." january  , , latreille[ ] was unanimously elected by the assembly a candidate to the chair of entomology, and at a following session (february  th) de blainville was unanimously elected a candidate for the chair of _molluscs, vers et zoophytes_, and on the th of march the royal ordinance confirming those elections was received by the assembly. there could have been no fitter appointments made for those two positions. lamarck had long known latreille "and loved him as a son." de blainville honored and respected lamarck, and fully appreciated his commanding abilities as an observer and thinker. footnotes: [ ] i have been unable to ascertain the names of any of his wives, or of his children, except his daughter, cornelie. [ ] "l'examen minutieux de petits animaux, analysés à l'aide d'instruments grossissants, fatigua, puis affaiblait, sa vue. bientôt il fut complement aveugle. il passa les dix derniers années de sa vie plongé dans les ténèbres, entouré des soins de ses deux tilles, à l'une desquelles il dictait le dernier volume de son _histoire des animaux sans vertèbres_."--_le transformiste lamarck_, _bull. soc. anthropologie_, xii., , p.  . cuvier, also, in his history of the progress of natural science for , remarks: "m. de la marck, malgré l'affoiblissement total de sa vue, poursuit avec un courage inaltérable la continuation de son grand ouvrage sur les animaux sans vertèbres" (p.  ). [ ] louis auguste guillaume bosc, born in paris, ; died in . author of now unimportant works, entitled: _histoire naturelle des coquilles_ ( ); _hist. nat. des vers_ ( ); _hist. nat. des crustacés_ ( ), and papers on insects and plants. he was associated with lamarck in the publication of the _journal d'histoire naturelle_. during the reign of terror in he was a friend of madame roland, was arrested, but afterwards set free and placed first on the directory in . in he sailed for charleston, s. c. nominated successively vice-consul at wilmington and consul at new york, but not obtaining his exequatur from president adams, he went to live with the botanist michaux in carolina in his botanical garden, where he devoted himself to natural history until the quarrel in between the united states and france caused him to return to france. on his return he sent north american insects to his friends fabricius and olivier, fishes to lacépède, birds to daudin, reptiles to latreille. not giving all his time to public life, he devoted himself to natural history, horticulture, and agriculture, succeeding thouin in the chair of horticulture, where he was most usefully employed until his death.--(cuvier's _Éloge_.) [ ] the first director of the board or assembly of professors-administrative of the museum was daubenton, lacépède being the secretary, thouin the treasurer. daubenton was succeeded by jussieu; and lacépède, first by desfontaines and afterwards by lamarck, who was elected secretary  fructidor, an ii. ( ). [ ] his attendance this year was infrequent. july  , , he was present and made a report relative to madrepores and molluscs. in the summer of he attended several of the meetings. august  , , he was present, and referred to the collection of shells of struthiolaria. he was present may  d and june  th, when it was voted that he should enjoy the garden of the house he occupied and that a chamber should be added to his lodgings. he was frequent in attendance this year, especially during the summer months. he attended a few meetings at intervals in , , and only twice in . at a meeting held april  , , he was present, and, stating that his condition did not permit him to lecture, asked to have audouin take his place, as latreille's health did not allow him to take up the work. the next week ( th) he was likewise present. on may  he was present, as also on june  , october  , and also through december, . his last appearance at these business meetings was on july  , . [ ] see, for the _acte de décès_, _l'homme_, iv. p.  , and _lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes_, etc., p.  . [ ] dr. mondière in _l'homme_, iv. p.  , and _lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes_, p.  . a somewhat parallel case is that of mozart, who was buried at vienna in the common ground of st. marx, the exact position of his grave being unknown. there were no ceremonies at his grave, and even his friends followed him no farther than the city gates, owing to a violent storm.--(_the century cyclopedia of names._) [ ] still hoping that the site of the grave might have been kept open, and desiring to satisfy myself as to whether there was possibly space enough left on which to erect a modest monument to the memory of lamarck, i took with me the _brochure_ containing the letter and plan of dr. mondière to the cemetery of montparnasse. with the aid of one of the officials i found what he told me was the site, but the entire place was densely covered with the tombs and grave-stones of later interments, rendering the erection of a stone, however small and simple, quite out of the question. [ ] the rue lamarck begins at the elevated square on which is situated the church of the sacré-coeur, now in process of erection, and from this point one obtains a commanding and very fine view overlooking the city; from there the street curves round to the westward, ending in the avenue de saint-ouen, and continues as a wide and long thoroughfare, ending to the north of the cemetery of montmartre. a neighboring street, rue becquerel, is named after another french savant, and parallel to it is a short street named rue darwin. [ ] latreille was born at brives, november  , , and died february  , . he was the leading entomologist of his time, and to him cuvier was indebted for the arrangement of the insects in the _règne animal_. his bust is to be seen on the same side of the nouvelle galerie in the jardin des plantes as those of lamarck, cuvier, de blainville, and d'orbigny. his first paper was introduced by lamarck in . in the minutes of the session of  thermidor, l'an vi. (july, ), we find this entry: "the citizen lamarck announces that the citizen latreille offered to the administration to work under the direction of that professor in arranging the very numerous collection of insects of the museum, so as to place them under the eye of the public." and here he remained until his appointment. several years ( ) before lamarck's death he had asked to have latreille fill his place in giving instruction. audouin ( - ), also an eminent entomologist and morphologist, was appointed _aide-naturaliste-adjoint_ in charge of mollusca, crustacea, worms, and zoöphytes. he was afterwards associated with h. milne edwards in works on annelid worms. december  , , latreille asked to be allowed to employ boisduval as a _préparateur_; he became the author of several works on injurious insects and lepidoptera. chapter vi position in the history of science; opinions of his contemporaries and some later biologists de blainville, a worthy successor of lamarck, in his posthumous book, _cuvier et geoffroy saint-hilaire_, pays the highest tribute to his predecessor, whose position as the leading naturalist of his time he fully and gratefully acknowledges, saying: "among the men whose lectures i have had the advantage of hearing, i truly recognize only three masters, m. de lamarck, m. claude richard, and m. pinel" (p.  ). he also speaks of wishing to write the scientific biographies of cuvier and de lamarck, the two zoölogists of this epoch whose lectures he most frequently attended and whose writings he studied, and "who have exercised the greatest influence on the zoölogy of our time" (p.  ). likewise in the opening words of the preface he refers to the rank taken by lamarck: "the aim which i have proposed to myself in my course on the principles of zoölogy demonstrated by the history of its progress from aristotle to our time, and consequently the plan which i have followed to attain this aim, have very naturally led me, so to speak, in spite of myself, to signalize in m. de lamarck the expression of one of those phases through which the science of organization has to pass in order to arrive at its last term before showing its true aim. from my point of view this phase does not seem to me to have been represented by any other naturalist of our time, whatever may have been the reputation which he made during his life." he then refers to the estimation in which lamarck was held by auguste comte, who, in his _cours de philosophie positive_, has anticipated and even surpassed himself in the high esteem he felt for "the celebrated author of the _philosophie zoologique_." the eulogy by cuvier, which gives most fully the details of the early life of lamarck, and which has been the basis for all the subsequent biographical sketches, was unworthy of him. lamarck had, with his customary self-abnegation and generosity, aided and favored the young cuvier in the beginning of his career,[ ] who in his _règne animal_ adopted the classes founded by lamarck. thoroughly convinced of the erroneous views of cuvier in regard to cataclysms, he criticised and opposed them in his writings in a courteous and proper way without directly mentioning cuvier by name or entering into any public debate with him. when the hour came for the great comparative anatomist and palæontologist, from his exalted position, to prepare a tribute to the memory of a naturalist of equal merit and of a far more thoughtful and profound spirit, to be read before the french academy of sciences, what a eulogy it was--as de blainville exclaims, _et quel éloge_! it was not printed until after cuvier's death, and then, it is stated, portions were omitted as not suitable for publication.[ ] this is, we believe, the only stain on cuvier's life, and it was unworthy of the great man. in this _éloge_, so different in tone from the many others which are collected in the three volumes of cuvier's eulogies, he indiscriminately ridicules all of lamarck's theories. whatever may have been his condemnation of lamarck's essays on physical and chemical subjects, he might have been more reserved and less dogmatic and sarcastic in his estimate of what he supposed to be the value of lamarck's views on evolution. it was cuvier's adverse criticisms and ridicule and his anti-evolutional views which, more than any other single cause, retarded the progress of biological science and the adoption of a working theory of evolution for which the world had to wait half a century. it even appears that lamarck was in part instrumental in inducing cuvier in to go to paris from normandy, and become connected with the museum. de blainville relates that the abbé tessier met the young zoölogist at valmont near fécamp, and wrote to geoffroy that "he had just discovered in normandy a pearl," and invited him to do what he could to induce cuvier to come to paris. "i made," said geoffroy, "the proposition to my _confrères_, but i was supported, and only feebly, by m. de lamarck, who slightly knew m. cuvier as the author of a memoir on entomology." the eulogy pronounced by geoffroy st. hilaire over the remains of his old friend and colleague was generous, sympathetic, and heartfelt. "yes [he said, in his eloquent way], for us who knew m. de lamarck, whom his counsels have guided, whom we have found always indefatigable, devoted, occupied so willingly with the most difficult labors, we shall not fear to say that such a loss leaves in our ranks an immense void. from the blessings of such a life, so rich in instructive lessons, so remarkable for the most generous self-abnegation, it is difficult to choose. "a man of vigorous, profound ideas, and very often admirably generalized, lamarck conceived them with a view to the public good. if he met, as often happened, with great opposition, he spoke of it as a condition imposed on every one who begins a reform. moreover, the great age, the infirmities, but especially the grievous blindness of m. de lamarck had reserved for him another lot. this great and strong mind could enjoy some consolation in knowing the judgment of posterity, which for him began in his own lifetime. when his last tedious days, useless to science, had arrived, when he had ceased to be subjected to rivalry, envy and passion became extinguished and justice alone remained. de lamarck then heard impartial voices, the anticipated echo of posterity, which would judge him as history will judge him. yes, the scientific world has pronounced its judgment in giving him the name of 'the french linné,' thus linking together the two men who have both merited a triple crown by their works on general natural history, zoölogy and botany, and whose names, increasing in fame from age to age, will both be handed down to the remotest posterity."[ ] also in his _Études sur la vie, les ouvrages, et les doctrines de buffon_ ( ), geoffroy again, with much warmth of affection, says: "attacked on all sides, injured likewise by odious ridicule, lamarck, too indignant to answer these cutting epigrams, submitted to the indignity with a sorrowful patience.... lamarck lived a long while poor, blind, and forsaken, but not by me; i shall ever love and venerate him."[ ] the following evidently heartfelt and sincere tribute to his memory, showing warm esteem and thorough respect for lamarck, and also a confident feeling that his lasting fame was secure, is to be found in an obscure little book[ ] containing satirical, humorous, but perhaps not always fair or just, characterizations and squibs concerning the professors and aid-naturalists of the jardin des plantes. "what head will not be uncovered on hearing pronounced the name of the man whose genius was ignored and who languished steeped in bitterness. blind, poor, forgotten, he remained alone with a glory of whose extent he himself was conscious, but which only the coming ages will sanction, when shall be revealed more clearly the laws of organization. "lamarck, thy abandonment, sad as it was in thy old age, is better than the ephemeral glory of men who only maintain their reputation by sharing in the errors of their time. "honor to thee! respect to thy memory! thou hast died in the breach while fighting for truth, and the truth assures thee immortality." lamarck's theoretical views were not known in germany until many years after his death. had goethe, his contemporary ( - ), known of them, he would undoubtedly have welcomed his speculations, have expressed his appreciation of them, and lamarck's reputation would, in his own lifetime, have raised him from the obscurity of his later years at paris. hearty appreciation, though late in the century, came from ernst haeckel, whose bold and suggestive works have been so widely read. in his _history of creation_ ( ) he thus estimates lamarck's work as a philosopher: "to him will always belong the immortal glory of having for the first time worked out the theory of descent, as an independent scientific theory of the first order, and as the philosophical foundation of the whole science of biology." referring to the _philosophie zoologique_, he says: "this admirable work is the first connected exposition of the theory of descent carried out strictly into all its consequences. by its purely mechanical method of viewing organic nature, and the strictly philosophical proofs brought forward in it, lamarck's work is raised far above the prevailing dualistic views of his time; and with the exception of darwin's work, which appeared just half a century later, we know of none which we could, in this respect, place by the side of the _philosophie zoologique_. how far it was in advance of its time is perhaps best seen from the circumstance that it was not understood by most men, and for fifty years was not spoken of at all. cuvier, lamarck's greatest opponent, in his _report on the progress of natural science_, in which the most unimportant anatomical investigations are enumerated, does not devote a single word to this work, which forms an epoch in science. goethe, also, who took such a lively interest in the french nature-philosophy and in the 'thoughts of kindred minds beyond the rhine,' nowhere mentions lamarck, and does not seem to have known the _philosophie zoologique_ at all." again in haeckel writes:[ ] "we regard it as a truly tragic fact that the _philosophie zoologique_ of lamarck, one of the greatest productions of the great literary period of the beginning of our century, received at first only the slightest notice, and within a few years became wholly forgotten.... not until fully fifty years later, when darwin breathed new life into the transformation views founded therein, was the buried treasure again recovered, and we cannot refrain from regarding it as the most complete presentation of the development theory before darwin. "while lamarck clearly expressed all the essential fundamental ideas of our present doctrine of descent; and excites our admiration at the depth of his morphological knowledge, he none the less surprises us by the prophetic (_vorausschauende_) clearness of his physiological conceptions." in his views on life, the nature of the will and reason, and other subjects, haeckel declares that lamarck was far above most of his contemporaries, and that he sketched out a programme of the biology of the future which was not carried out until our day. j. victor carus[ ] also claims for lamarck "the lasting merit of having been the first to have placed the theory (of descent) on a scientific foundation." the best, most catholic, and just exposition of lamarck's views, and which is still worth reading, is that by lyell chapters xxxiv.-xxxvi. of his _principles of geology_, , and though at that time one would not look for an acceptance of views which then seemed extraordinary and, indeed, far-fetched, lyell had no words of satire and ridicule, only a calm, able statement and discussion of his principles. indeed, it is well known that when, in after years, his friend charles darwin published his views, lyell expressed some leaning towards the older speculations of lamarck. lyell's opinions as to the interest and value of lamarck's ideas may be found in his _life and letters_, and also in the _life and letters of charles darwin_. in the chapter, _on the reception of the origin of species_, by huxley, are the following extracts from lyell's _letters_ (ii., pp.  - ). in a letter addressed to mantell (dated march  , ), lyell speaks of having just read lamarck; he expresses his delight at lamarck's theories, and his personal freedom from any objections based on theological grounds. and though he is evidently alarmed at the pithecoid origin of man involved in lamarck's doctrine, he observes: "but, after all, what changes species may really undergo! how impossible will it be to distinguish and lay down a line beyond which some of the so-called extinct species have never passed into recent ones?" he also quotes a remarkable passage in the postscript to a letter written to sir john herschel in : "in regard to the origination of new species, i am very glad to find that you think it probable it may be carried on through the intervention of intermediate causes." how nearly lyell was made a convert to evolution by reading lamarck's works may be seen by the following extracts from his letters, quoted by huxley: "i think the old 'creation' is almost as much required as ever, but of course it takes a new form if lamarck's views, improved by yours, are adopted." (to darwin, march  , , p.  .) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "as to lamarck, i find that grove, who has been reading him, is wonderfully struck with his book. i remember that it was the conclusion he (lamarck) came to about man, that fortified me thirty years ago against the great impression which his argument at first made on my mind--all the greater because constant prevost, a pupil of cuvier forty years ago, told me his conviction 'that cuvier thought species not real, but that science could not advance without assuming that they were so.'" ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "when i came to the conclusion that after all lamarck was going to be shown to be right, that we must 'go the whole orang,' i re-read his book, and remembering when it was written, i felt i had done him injustice. "even as to man's gradual acquisition of more and more ideas, and then of speech slowly as the ideas multiplied, and then his persecution of the beings most nearly allied and competing with him--all this is very darwinian. "the substitution of the variety-making power for 'volition,' 'muscular action,' etc. (and in plants even volition was not called in), is in some respects only a change of names. call a new variety a new creation, one may say of the former, as of the latter, what you say when you observe that the creationist explains nothing, and only affirms 'it is so because it is so.' "lamarck's belief in the slow changes in the organic and inorganic world in the year was surely above the standard of his times, and he was right about progression in the main, though you have vastly advanced that doctrine. as to owen in his 'aye aye' paper, he seems to me a disciple of pouchet, who converted him at rouen to 'spontaneous generation.' "have i not, at p.  , put the vast distinction between you and lamarck as to 'necessary progression' strongly enough?" (to darwin, march  , . _lyell's letters_, ii., p.  .) darwin, in the freedom of private correspondence, paid scant respect to the views of his renowned predecessor, as the following extracts from his published letters will show: "heaven forfend me from lamarck nonsense of a 'tendency to progression,' 'adaptations from the slow willing of animals,' etc. but the conclusions i am led to are not widely different from his; though the means of change are wholly so." (darwin's _life and letters_, ii., p.  , .) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "with respect to books on this subject, i do not know of any systematical ones, except lamarck's, which is veritable rubbish.... is it not strange that the author of such a book as the _animaux sans vertèbres_ should have written that insects, which never see their eggs, should _will_ (and plants, their seeds) to be of particular forms, so as to become attached to particular objects."[ ] (ii., p.  , .) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "lamarck is the only exception, that i can think of, of an accurate describer of species, at least in the invertebrate kingdom, who has disbelieved in permanent species, but he in his absurd though clever work has done the subject harm." (ii., p.  , no date.) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "to talk of climate or lamarckian habit producing such adaptions to other organic beings is futile." (ii., p.  , .) on the other hand, another great english thinker and naturalist of rare breadth and catholicity, and despite the fact that he rejected lamarck's peculiar evolutional views, associated him with the most eminent biologists. in a letter to romanes, dated in , huxley thus estimates lamarck's position in the scientific world: "i am not likely to take a low view of darwin's position in the history of science, but i am disposed to think that buffon and lamarck would run him hard in both genius and fertility. in breadth of view and in extent of knowledge these two men were giants, though we are apt to forget their services. von bär was another man of the same stamp; cuvier, in a somewhat lower rank, another; and j. müller another." (_life and letters of thomas henry huxley_, ii., p.  , .) the memory of lamarck is deeply and warmly cherished throughout france. he gave his country a second linné. one of the leading botanists in europe, and the greatest zoölogist of his time, he now shares equally with geoffroy st. hilaire and with cuvier the distinction of raising biological science to that eminence in the first third of the nineteenth century which placed france, as the mother of biologists, in the van of all the nations. when we add to his triumphs in pure zoölogy the fact that he was in his time the philosopher of biology, it is not going too far to crown him as one of the intellectual glories, not only of france, but of the civilized world. how warmly his memory is now cherished may be appreciated by the perusal of the following letter, with its delightful reminiscences, for which we are indebted to the venerable and distinguished zoölogist and comparative anatomist who formerly occupied the chair made illustrious by lamarck, and by his successor, de blainville, and who founded the laboratoire arago on the mediterranean, also that of experimental zoölogy at roscoff, and who still conducts the _journal de zoologie expérimentale_. paris le  _décembre_, . m. le professeur packard. _cher monsieur_: vous m'avez fait l'honneur de me demander des renseignements sur la famille de de lamarck, et sur ses relations, afin de vous en servir dans la biographie que vous préparez de notre grand naturaliste. je n'ai rien appris de plus que ce que vous voulez bien me rappeler comme l'ayant trouvé dans mon adresse de . je ne connais plus ni les noms ni les adresses des parents de de lamarck, et c'est avec regret qu'il ne m'est pas possible de répondre à vos désirs. lorsque je commençai mes études à paris, on ne s'occupait guère des idées générales de de lamarck que pour s'en moquer. excepté geoffroy st. hilaire et de blainville, dont j'ai pu suivre les belles leçons et qui le citaient souvent, on parlait peu de la philosophie zoologique. il m'a été possible de causer avec des anciens collègues du grand naturaliste; au jardin des plantes de très grands savants, dont je ne veux pas écrire le nom, le traitaient _de fou_! il avait loué un appartement sur le haut d'une maison, et là cherchait d'après la direction des nuages à prévoir l'état du temps. on riait de ces études. n'est-ce pas comme un observatoire de météorologie que ce savant zoologiste avait pour ainsi dire fondé avant que la science ne se fut emparée de l'idée? lorsque j'eus l'honneur d'être nommé professeur au jardin des plantes en , je fis l'historique de la chaire que j'occupais, et qui avait été illustrée par de lamarck et de blainville. je crois que je suis le premier à avoir fait l'histoire de notre grand naturaliste dans un cours public. je dus travailler pas mal pour arriver à bien saisir l'idée fondamentale de la philosophie. les définitions de la nature et des forces qui président aux changements qui modifient les êtres d'après les conditions auxquelles ils sont soumis ne sont pas toujours faciles à rendre claires pour un public souvent difficile. ce qui frappe surtout dans ses raisonnements, c'est que de lamarck est parfaitement logique. il comprend très bien ce que plus d'un transformiste de nos jours ne cherche pas à éclairer, que le premier pas, le pas difficile à faire pour arriver à expliquer la création par des modifications successives, c'est le passage de la matière inorganique à la matière organisée, et il imagine la chaleur et l'électricité comme étant les deux facteurs qui par attraction ou répulsion finissent par former ces petits amas organisés qui seront le point de départ de toutes les transformations de tous les organismes. voilà le point de départ--la génération spontanée se trouve ainsi expliquée! de lamarck était un grand et profond observateur. on me disait au museum (des contemporains) qu'il avait l'instinct de l'espèce. il y aurait beaucoup à dire sur cette expression--l'instinct de l'espèce--il m'est difficile dans une simple lettre de développer des idées philosophiques que j'ai sur cette question,--laquelle suppose la notion de l'individu parfaitement définie et acquis. je ne vous citerai qu'un exemple. je ne l'ai vu signalé nulle part dans les ouvrages anciens sur de lamarck. qu'étaient nos connaissances à l'époque de de lamarck sur les polypiers? les hydraires étaient loin d'avoir fourni les remarquables observations qui parurent dans le milieu à peu près du siècle qui vient de finir, et cependant de lamarck déplace hardiment la lucernaire--l'éloigne des coralliaires, et la rapproche des êtres qui forment le grand groupe des hydraires. ce trait me paraît remarquable et le rapporte à cette réputation qu'il avait au museum de jouir de l'instinct de l'espèce. de toute part on acclame le grand naturaliste, et'il n'y a pas même une rue portant son nom aux environs du jardin des plantes? j'ai eu beau réclamer le conseil municipal de paris à d'autres favoris que de lamarck. lorsque le jardin des plantes fut réorganisé par la convention, de lamarck avait  ans. il ne s'était jusqu'alors occupé que de botanique. il fut à cet age chargé de l'histoire de la partie du règne animal renfermant les animaux invertèbres sauf les insectes et les crustacés. la chaire est restée la même; elle comprend les vers, les helminthes, les mollusques, et ce qu'on appelait autrefois les zoophytes ou rayonnées, enfin les infusoires. quelle puissance de travail! ne fallait-il pas pour passer de la botanique, à  ans, à la zoologie, et laisser un ouvrage semblable à celui qui illustre encore le nom du botaniste devenue zoologiste par ordre de la convention! sans doute dans cet ouvrage il y a bien des choses qui ne sont plus acceptables--mais pour le juger avec équité, il faut se porter a l'époque où il fut fait, et alors on est pris d'admiration pour l'auteur d'un aussi immense travail. j'ai une grande admiration pour le génie de de lamarck, et je ne puis que vous louer de le faire encore mieux connaître de nos contemporains. recevez, mon cher collègue, l'expression de mes sentiments d'estime pour vos travaux remarquables et croyez-moi--tout à vous, h. de lacaze duthiers. footnotes: [ ] for example, while cuvier's chair was in the field of vertebrate zoölogy, owing to the kindness of lamarck ("_par gracieuseté de la part de m. de lamarck_") he had retained that of mollusca, and yet it was in the special classification of the molluscs that lamarck did his best work (blainville, _l. c._, p.  ). [ ] de blainville states that "the academy did not even allow it to be printed in the form in which it was pronounced" (p.  ); and again he speaks of the lack of judgment in cuvier's estimate of lamarck, "the naturalist who had the greatest force in the general conception of beings and of phenomena, although he might often be far from the path" (p.  ). [ ] _fragments biographiques_, pp.  - . [ ] _l. c._ p.  . [ ] _histoire naturelle drolatique et philosophique des professeurs du jardin des plantes, _etc._ par isid. s. de gosse. avec des annotations de m. frédéric gerard._ paris, . [ ] _die naturanschauung von darwin, goethe und lamarck_, jena, . [ ] _geschichte der zoologie bis auf joh. müller und charles darwin_, . [ ] we have been unable to find these statements in any of lamarck's writings. chapter vii lamarck's work in meteorology and physical science when a medical student in paris, lamarck, from day to day watching the clouds from his attic windows, became much interested in meteorology, and, indeed, at first this subject had nearly as much attraction for him as botany. for a long period he pursued these studies, and he was the first one to foretell the probabilities of the weather, thus anticipating by over half a century the modern idea of making the science of meteorology of practical use to mankind. his article, "de l'influence de la lune sur l'atmosphère terrestre," appeared in the _journal de physique_ for , and was translated in two english journals. the titles of several other essays will be found in the bibliography at the close of this volume. from to he regularly published an annual meteorological report containing the statement of probabilities acquired by a long series of observations on the state of the weather and the variations of the atmosphere at different times of the year, giving indications of the periods when to expect pleasant weather, or rain, storms, tempests, frosts, thaws, etc.; finally the citations of these probabilities of times favorable to fêtes, journeys, voyages, harvesting crops, and other enterprises dependent on good weather. lamarck thus explained the principles on which he based his probabilities: two kinds of causes, he says, displace the fluids which compose the atmosphere, some being variable and irregular, others constant, whose action is subject to progressive and fixed laws. between the tropics constant causes exercise an action so considerable that the irregular effects of variable causes are there in some degree lost; hence result the prevailing winds which in these climates become established and change at determinate epochs. beyond the tropics, and especially toward the middle of the temperate zones, variable causes predominate. we can, however, still discover there the effects of the action of constant causes, though much weakened; we can assign them the principal epochs, and in a great number of cases make this knowledge turn to our profit. it is in the elevation and depression (_abaissement_) of the moon above and below the celestial equator that we should seek for the most constant of these causes. with his usual facility in such matters, he was not long in advancing a theory, according to which the atmosphere is regarded as resembling the sea, having a surface, waves, and storms; it ought likewise to have a flux and reflux, for the moon ought to exercise the same influence upon it that it does on the ocean. in the temperate and frigid zones, therefore, the wind, which is only the tide of the atmosphere, must depend greatly on the declination of the moon; it ought to blow toward the pole that is nearest to it, and advancing in that direction only, in order to reach every place, traversing dry countries or extensive seas, it ought then to render the sky serene or stormy. if the influence of the moon on the weather is denied, it is only that it may be referred to its phases, but its position in the ecliptic is regarded as affording probabilities much nearer the truth.[ ] in each of these annuals lamarck took great care to avoid making any positive predictions. "no one," he says, "could make these predictions without deceiving himself and abusing the confidence of persons who might place reliance on them." he only intended to propose simple probabilities. after the publication of the first of these annuals, at the request of lamarck, who had made it the subject of a memoir read to the institute in (  ventôse, l'an ix.), chaptal, minister of the interior, thought it well to establish in france a regular correspondence of meteorological observations made daily at different points remote from each other, and he conferred the direction of it on lamarck. this system of meteorological reports lasted but a short time, and was not maintained by chaptal's successor. after three of these annual reports had appeared, lamarck rather suddenly stopped publishing them, and an incident occurred in connection with their cessation which led to the story that he had suffered ill treatment and neglect from napoleon i. it has been supposed that lamarck, who was frank and at times brusque in character, had made some enemies, and that he had been represented to the emperor as a maker of almanacs and of weather predictions, and that napoleon, during a reception, showing to lamarck his great dissatisfaction with the annuals, had ordered him to stop their publication. but according to bourguin's statement this is not the correct version. he tells us: "according to traditions preserved in the family of lamarck things did not happen so at all. during a reception given to the institute at the tuileries, napoleon, who really liked lamarck, spoke to him in a jocular way about his weather probabilities, and lamarck, very much provoked (_très contrarié_) at being thus chaffed in the presence of his colleagues, resolved to stop the publication of his observations on the weather. what proves that this version is the true one is that lamarck published another annual which he had in preparation for the year . in the preface he announced that his age, ill health, and his circumstances placed him in the unfortunate necessity of ceasing to busy himself with this periodical work. he ended by inviting those who had the taste for meteorological observations, and the means of devoting their time to it, to take up with confidence an enterprise good in itself, based on a genuine foundation, and from which the public would derive advantageous results." these opuscles, such as they were, in which lamarck treated different subjects bearing on the winds, great droughts, rainy seasons, tides, etc., became the precursors of the _annuaires du bureau des longitudes_. an observation of lamarck's on a rare and curious form of cloud has quite recently been referred to by a french meteorologist. it is probable, says m. e. durand-greville in _la nature_, november  , , that lamarck was the first to observe the so-called pocky or festoon cloud, or mammato-cirrus cloud, which at rare intervals has been observed since his time.[ ] full of over confidence in the correctness of his views formed without reference to experiments, although lavoisier, by his discovery of oxygen in the years - , and other researches, had laid the foundations of the antiphlogistic or modern chemistry, lamarck quixotically attempted to substitute his own speculative views for those of the discoverers of oxygen--priestley ( ) and the great french chemist lavoisier. lamarck, in his _hydrogéologie_ ( ), went so far as to declare: "it is not true, and it seems to me even absurd to believe that pure air, which has been justly called _vital air_, and which chemists now call _oxygen gas_, can be the radical of saline matters--namely, can be the principle of acidity, of causticity, or any salinity whatever. there are a thousand ways of refuting this error without the possibility of a reply.... this hypothesis, the best of all those which had been imagined when lavoisier conceived it, cannot now be longer held, since i have discovered what is really _caloric_" (p.  ). after paying his respects to priestley, he asks: "what, then, can be the reason why the views of chemists and mine are so opposed?" and complains that the former have avoided all written discussion on this subject. and this after his three physico-chemical works, the _réfutation_, the _recherches_, and the _mémoires_ had appeared, and seemed to chemists to be unworthy of a reply. it must be admitted that lamarck was on this occasion unduly self-opinionated and stubborn in adhering to such views at a time when the physical sciences were being placed on a firm and lasting basis by experimental philosophers. the two great lessons of science--to suspend one's judgment and to wait for more light in theoretical matters on which scientific men were so divided--and the necessity of adhering to his own line of biological study, where he had facts of his own observing on which to rest his opinions, lamarck did not seem ever to have learned. the excuse for his rash and quixotic course in respect to his physico-chemical vagaries is that he had great mental activity. lamarck was a synthetic philosopher. he had been brought up in the encyclopædic period of learning. he had from his early manhood been deeply interested in physical subjects. in middle age he probably lived a very retired life, did not mingle with his compeers or discuss his views with them. so that when he came to publish them, he found not a single supporter. his speculations were received in silence and not deemed worthy of discussion. a very just and discriminating judge of lamarck's work, professor cleland, thus refers to his writings on physics and chemistry: "the most prominent defect in lamarck must be admitted, quite apart from all consideration of the famous hypothesis which bears his name, to have been want of control in speculation. doubtless the speculative tendency furnished a powerful incentive to work, but it outran the legitimate deductions from observation, and led him into the production of volumes of worthless chemistry without experimental basis, as well as into spending much time in fruitless meteorological predictions." (_encyc. brit._, art. lamarck.) how a modern physicist regards lamarck's views on physics may be seen by the following statement kindly written for this book by professor carl barus of brown university, providence: "lamarck's physical and chemical speculations, made throughout on the basis of the alchemistic philosophy of the time, will have little further interest to-day than as evidence showing the broadly philosophic tendencies of lamarck's mind. made without experiment and without mathematics, the contents of the three volumes will hardly repay perusal, except by the historian interested in certain aspects of pre-lavoisierian science. the temerity with which physical phenomena are referred to occult static molecules, permeated by subtle fluids, the whole mechanism left without dynamic quality, since the mass of the molecule is to be non-essential, is markedly in contrast with the discredit into which such hypotheses have now fallen. it is true that an explanation of natural phenomena in terms "le feu éthéré, le feu calorique, et le feu fixé" might be interpreted with reference to the modern doctrine of energy; but it is certain that lamarck, antedating fresnel, carnot, ampère, not to mention their great followers, had not the faintest inkling of the possibility of such an interpretation. indeed, one may readily account for the resemblance to modern views, seeing that all speculative systems of science must to some extent run in parallel, inasmuch as they begin with the facts of common experience. nor were his speculations in any degree stimulating to theoretical science. many of his mechanisms in which the ether operates on a plane of equality with the air can only be regarded with amusement. the whole of his elaborate schemes of color classification may be instanced as forerunners of the methods commercially in vogue to-day; they are not the harbingers of methods scientifically in vogue. one looks in vain for research adequate to carry the load of so much speculative text. "even if we realize that the beginnings of science could but be made amid such groping in the dark, it is a pity that a man of lamarck's genius, which seems to have been destitute of the instincts of an experimentalist, should have lavished so much serious thought in evolving a system of chemical physics out of himself." the chemical status of lamarck's writings is thus stated by professor h. carrington bolton in a letter dated washington, d. c., february  , : "excuse delay in replying to your inquiry as to the chemical status of the french naturalist, lamarck. not until this morning have i found it convenient to go to the library of congress. that library has not the _recherches_ nor the _mémoires_, but the position of lamarck is well known. he had no influence on chemistry, and his name is not mentioned in the principal histories of chemistry. he made no experiments, but depended upon his imagination for his facts; he opposed the tenets of the new french school founded by lavoisier, and proposed a fanciful scheme of abstract principles that remind one of alchemy. "cuvier, in his _Éloge_ (_mémoires acad. royale des sciences_, ), estimates lamarck correctly as respects his position in physical science." lamarck boldly carried the principle of change and evolution into inorganic nature by the same law of change of circumstances producing change of species. under the head, "de l'espèce parmi les minéraux," p.  , the author states that he had for a long time supposed that there were no species among minerals. here, also, he doubts, and boldly, if not rashly, in this case, opposes accepted views, and in this field, as elsewhere, shows, at least, his independence of thought. "they teach in paris," he says, "that the integrant molecule of each kind of compound is invariable in nature, and consequently that it is as old as nature, hence, mineral species are constant. "for myself, i declare that i am persuaded, and even feel convinced, that the integrant molecule of every compound substance whatever, may change its nature, namely, may undergo changes in the number and in the proportions of the principles which compose it." he enlarges on this subject through eight pages. he was evidently led to take this view from his assumption that everything, every natural object, organic or inorganic, undergoes a change. but it may be objected that this view will not apply to minerals, because those of the archæan rocks do not differ, and have undergone no change since then to the present time, unless we except such minerals as are alteration products due to metamorphism. the primary laws of nature, of physics, and of chemistry are unchangeable, while change, progression from the generalized to the specialized, is distinctly characteristic of the organic as opposed to the inorganic world. footnotes: [ ] "on the influence of the moon on the earth's atmosphere," _journal de physique_, prairial, l'an vi. ( ). [ ] nature, dec.  , . chapter viii lamarck's work in geology whatever may be said of his chemical and physical lucubrations, lamarck in his geological and palæontological writings is, despite their errors, always suggestive, and in some most important respects in advance of his time. and this largely for the reason that he had once travelled, and to some extent observed geological phenomena, in the central regions of france, in germany, and hungary; visiting mines and collecting ores and minerals, besides being in a degree familiar with the french cretaceous fossils, but more especially those of the tertiary strata of paris and its vicinity. he had, therefore, from his own experience, slight as it was, some solid grounds of facts and observations on which to meditate and from which to reason. he did not attempt to touch upon cosmological theories--chaos and creation--but, rather, confined himself to the earth, and more particularly to the action of the ocean, and to the changes which he believed to be due to organic agencies. the most impressive truth in geology is the conception of the immensity of past time, and this truth lamarck fully realized. his views are to be found in a little book of  pages, entitled _hydrogéologie_. it appeared in (an x.), or ten years before the first publication of cuvier's famous _discours sur les revolutions de la surface du globe_ ( ). written in his popular and attractive style, and thoroughly in accord with the cosmological and theological prepossessions of the age, the discours was widely read, and passed through many editions. on the other hand, the _hydrogéologie_ died stillborn, with scarcely a friend or a reader, never reaching a second edition, and is now, like most of his works, a bibliographical rarity. the only writer who has said a word in its favor, or contrasted it with the work of cuvier, is the judicious and candid huxley, who, though by no means favorable to lamarck's factors of evolution, frankly said: "the vast authority of cuvier was employed in support of the traditionally respectable hypotheses of special creation and of catastrophism; and the wild speculations of the _discours sur les revolutions de la surface du globe_ were held to be models of sound scientific thinking, while the really much more sober and philosophic hypotheses of the _hydrogéologie_ were scouted."[ ] before summarizing the contents of this book, let us glance at the geological atmosphere--thin and tenuous as it was then--in which lamarck lived. the credit of being the first observer, before steno ( ), to state that fossils are the remains of animals which were once alive, is due to an italian, frascatero, of verona, who wrote in . "but," says lyell,[ ] "the clear and philosophical views of frascatero were disregarded, and the talent and argumentative powers of the learned were doomed for three centuries to be wasted in the discussion of these two simple and preliminary questions: first, whether fossil remains had ever belonged to living creatures; and, secondly, whether, if this be admitted, all the phenomena could not be explained by the deluge of noah." previous to this the great artist, architect, engineer, and musician, leonardo da vinci ( - ), who, among other great works, planned and executed some navigable canals in northern italy, and who was an observer of rare penetration and judgment, saw how fossil shells were formed, saying that the mud of rivers had covered and penetrated into the interior of fossil shells at a time when these were still at the bottom of the sea near the coast.[ ] that versatile and observing genius, bernard palissy, as early as , in a book entitled _the origin of springs from rain-water_, and in other writings, criticized the notions of the time, especially of italian writers, that petrified shells had all been left by the universal deluge. "it has happened," said fontenelle, in his eulogy on palissy, delivered before the french academy a century and a half later, "that a potter who knew neither latin nor greek dared, toward the end of the sixteenth century, to say in paris, and in the presence of all the doctors, that fossil shells were veritable shells deposited at some time by the sea in the places where they were then found; that the animals had given to the figured stones all their different shapes, and that he boldly defied all the school of aristotle to attack his proofs."[ ] then succeeded, at the end of the seventeenth century, the forerunners of modern geology: steno ( ), leibnitz ( ), ray ( ), woodward ( ), vallisneri ( ), while moro published his views in . in the eighteenth century réaumur[ ] ( ) presented a paper on the fossil shells of touraine. cuvier[ ] thus pays his respects, in at least an unsympathetic way, to the geological essayists and compilers of the seventeenth century: "the end of the seventeenth century lived to see the birth of a new science, which took, in its infancy, the high-sounding name of 'theory of the earth.' starting from a small number of facts, badly observed, connecting them by fantastic suppositions, it pretended to go back to the origin of worlds, to, as it were, play with them, and to create their history. its arbitrary methods, its pompous language, altogether seemed to render it foreign to the other sciences, and, indeed, the professional savants for a long time cast it out of the circle of their studies." their views, often premature, composed of half-truths, were mingled with glaring errors and fantastic misconceptions, but were none the less germinal. leibnitz was the first to propose the nebular hypothesis, which was more fully elaborated by kant and laplace. buffon, influenced by the writing of leibnitz, in his _théorie de la terre_, published in , adopted his notion of an original volcanic nucleus and a universal ocean, the latter as he thought leaving the land dry by draining into subterranean caverns. he also dimly saw, or gathered from his reading, that the mountains and valleys were due to secondary causes; that fossiliferous strata had been deposited by ocean currents, and that rivers had transported materials from the highlands to the lowlands. he also states that many of the fossil shells which occur in europe do not live in the adjacent seas, and that there are remains of fishes and of plants not now living in europe, and which are either extinct or live in more southern climates, and others in tropical seas. also that the bones and teeth of elephants and of the rhinoceros and hippopotamus found in siberia and elsewhere in northern europe and asia indicate that these animals must have lived there, though at present restricted to the tropics. in his last essay, _Époques de la nature_ ( ), he claims that the earth's history may be divided into epochs, from the earliest to the present time. the first epoch was that of fluidity, of incandescence, when the earth and the planets assumed their form; the second, of cooling; the third, when the waters covered the earth, and volcanoes began to be active; the fourth, that of the retreat of the seas, and the fifth the age when the elephants, the hippopotamus, and other southern animals lived in the regions of the north; the sixth, when the two continents, america and the old world, became separate; the seventh and last being the age of man. above all, by his attractive style and bold suggestions he popularized the subjects and created an interest in these matters and a spirit of inquiry which spread throughout france and the rest of europe. but notwithstanding the crude and uncritical nature of the writings of the second half of the eighteenth century, resulting from the lack of that more careful and detailed observation which characterizes our day, there was during this period a widespread interest in physical and natural science, and it led up to that more exact study of nature which signalizes the nineteenth century. "more new truths concerning the external world," says buckle, "were discovered in france during the latter half of the eighteenth century than during all preceding periods put together."[ ] as perkins[ ] says: "interest in scientific study, as in political investigation, seemed to rise suddenly from almost complete inactivity to extraordinary development. in both departments english thinkers had led the way, but if the impulse to such investigations came from without, the work done in france in every branch of scientific research during the eighteenth century was excelled by no other nation, and england alone could assert any claim to results of equal importance. the researches of coulomb in electricity, of buffon in geology, of lavoisier in chemistry, of daubenton in comparative anatomy, carried still farther by their illustrious successors towards the close of the century, did much to establish conceptions of the universe and its laws upon a scientific basis." and not only did rousseau make botany fashionable, but goldsmith wrote from paris in : "i have seen as bright a circle of beauty at the chemical lectures of rouelle as gracing the court of versailles." petit lectured on astronomy to crowded houses, and among his listeners were gentlemen and ladies of fashion, as well as professional students.[ ] the popularizers of science during this period were voltaire, montesquieu, alembert, diderot, and other encyclopædists. here should be mentioned one of buffon's contemporaries and countrymen; one who was the first true field geologist, an observer rather than a compiler or theorist. this was jean e. guettard ( - ). he published, says sir archibald geikie, in his valuable work, _the founders of geology_, about two hundred papers on a wide range of scientific subjects, besides half a dozen quarto volumes of his observations, together with many excellent plates. geikie also states that he is undoubtedly entitled to rank among the first great pioneers of modern geology. he was the first ( ) to make a geological map of northern france, and roughly traced the limits of his three bands or formations from france across the southeastern english counties. in his work on "the degradation of mountains effected in our time by heavy rains, rivers, and the sea,"[ ] he states that the sea is the most potent destroyer of the land, and that the material thus removed is deposited either on the land or along the shores of the sea. he thought that the levels of the valleys are at present being raised, owing to the deposit of detritus in them. he points out that the deposits laid down by the ocean do not extend far out to sea, "that consequently the elevations of new mountains in the sea, by the deposition of sediment, is a process very difficult to conceive; that the transport of the sediment as far as the equator is not less improbable; and that still more difficult to accept is the suggestion that the sediment from our continent is carried into the seas of the new world. in short, we are still very little advanced towards the theory of the earth as it now exists." guettard was the first to discover the volcanoes of auvergne, but he was "hopelessly wrong" in regard to the origin of basalt, forestalling werner in his mistakes as to its aqueous origin. he was thus the first neptunist, while, as geikie states, his "observations in auvergne practically started the vulcanist camp." we now come to lamarck's own time. he must have been familiar with the results of pallas's travels in russia and siberia ( - ). the distinguished german zoölogist and geologist, besides working out the geology of the ural mountains, showed, in , that there was a general law in the formation of all mountain chains composed chiefly of primary rocks;[ ] the granitic axis being flanked by schists, and these by fossiliferous strata. from his observations made on the volga and about its mouth, he presented proofs of the former extension, in comparatively recent times, of the caspian sea. but still more pregnant and remarkable was his discovery of an entire rhinoceros, with its flesh and skin, in the frozen soil of siberia. his memoir on this animal places him among the forerunners of, if not within the ranks of, the founders of palæontology. meanwhile soldani, an italian, had, in , shown that the limestone strata of italy had accumulated in a deep sea, at least far from land, and he was the first to observe the alternation of marine and fresh-water strata in the paris basin. lamarck must have taken much interest in the famous controversy between the vulcanists and neptunists. he visited freyburg in ; whether he met werner is not known, as werner began to lecture in . he must have personally known faujas of paris, who, in , published his description of the volcanoes of vivarais and velay; while desmarest's ( - ) elaborate work on the volcanoes of auvergne, published in , in which he proved the igneous origin of basalt, was the best piece of geological exploration which had yet been accomplished, and is still a classic.[ ] werner ( - ), the propounder of the neptunian theory, was one of the founders of modern geology and of palæontology. his work entitled _ueber die aüssern kennzeichen der fossilien_ appeared in ; his _kurze klassifikation und beschreibung der gebirgsarten_ in . he discovered the law of the superposition of stratified rocks, though he wrongly considered volcanic rocks, such as basalt, to be of aqueous origin, being as he supposed formed of chemical precipitates from water. but he was the first to state that the age of different formations can be told by their fossils, certain species being confined to particular beds, while others ranged throughout whole formations, and others seemed to occur in several different formations; "the original species found in these formations appearing to have been so constituted as to live through a variety of changes which had destroyed hundreds of other species which we find confined to particular beds."[ ] his views as regards fossils, as jameson states, were probably not known to cuvier, and it is more than doubtful whether lamarck knew of them. he observed that fossils appear first in "transition" or palæozoic strata, and were mainly corals and molluscs; that in the older carboniferous rocks the fossils are of higher types, such as fish and amphibious animals; while in the tertiary or alluvial strata occur the remains of birds and quadrupeds. he thought that marine plants were more ancient than land plants. his studies led him to infer that the fossils contained in the oldest rocks are very different from any of the species of the present time; that the newer the formation, the more do the remains approach in form to the organic beings of the present creation, and that in the very latest formations, fossil remains of species now existing occur. such advanced views as these would seem to entitle werner to rank as one of the founders of palæontology.[ ] hutton's _theory of the earth_ appeared in , and in a more developed state, as a separate work, in .[ ] "the ruins of an older world," he said, "are visible in the present structure of our planet, and the strata which now compose our continents have been once beneath the sea, and were formed out of the waste of preëxisting continents. the same forces are still destroying, by chemical decomposition or mechanical violence, even the hardest rocks, and transporting the materials to the sea, where they are spread out and form strata analogous to those of more ancient date. although loosely deposited along the bottom of the ocean, they became afterwards altered and consolidated by volcanic heat, and were then heaved up, fractured, and contorted." again he said: "in the economy of the world i can find no traces of a beginning, no prospect of an end." as lyell remarks: "hutton imagined that the continents were first gradually destroyed by aqueous degradation, and when their ruins had furnished materials for new continents, they were upheaved by violent convulsions. he therefore required alternate periods of general disturbance and repose." to hutton, therefore, we are indebted for the idea of the immensity of the duration of time. he was the forerunner of lyell and of the uniformitarian school of geologists. hutton observed that fossils characterized certain strata, but the value of fossils as time-marks and the principle of the superposition of stratified fossiliferous rocks were still more clearly established by william smith, an english surveyor, in . meanwhile the abbé haüy, the founder of crystallography, was in professor of mineralogy in the jardin des plantes. _lamarck's contributions to physical geology; his theory of the earth._ such were the amount and kind of knowledge regarding the origin and structure of our earth which existed at the close of the eighteenth century, while lamarck was meditating his _hydrogéologie_, and had begun to study the invertebrate fossils of the paris tertiary basin. his object, he says in his work, is to present certain considerations which he believed to be new and of the first order, which had escaped the notice of physicists, and which seemed to him should serve as the foundations for a good theory of the earth. his theses are: . what are the natural consequences of the influence and the movements of the waters on the surface of the globe? . why does the sea constantly occupy a basin within the limits which contain it, and there separate the dry parts of the surface of the globe always projecting above it? . has the ocean basin always existed where we actually see it, and if we find proofs of the sojourn of the sea in places where it no longer remains, by what cause was it found there, and why is it no longer there? . what influence have living bodies exerted on the substances found on the surface of the earth and which compose the crust which invests it, and what are the general results of this influence? lamarck then disclaims any intentions of framing brilliant hypotheses based on supposititious principles, but nevertheless, as we shall see, he falls into this same error, and like others of his period makes some preposterous hypotheses, though these are far less so than those of cuvier's _discours_. he distinguishes between the action of rivers or of fresh-water currents, torrents, storms, the melting of snow, and the work of the ocean. the rivers wear away and bear materials from the highlands to the lowlands, so that the plains are gradually elevated; ravines form and become immense valleys, and their sides form elevated crests and pass into mountain ranges. he brings out and emphasizes the fact, now so well known, that the erosive action of rain and rivers has formed mountains of a certain class. "it is then evident to me, that every mountain which is not the result of a _volcanic irruption_ or of some local catastrophe, has been carved out from a plain, where its mass is gradually formed, and was a part of it; hence what in this case are the summits of the mountains are only the remains of the former level of the plain unless the process of washing away and other means of degradation have not since reduced its height." now this will apply perfectly well to our table-lands, mesas, the mountains of our bad-lands, even to our catskills and to many elevations of this nature in france and in northern africa. but lamarck unfortunately does not stop here, but with the zeal of an innovator, by no means confined to his time alone, claims that the mountain masses of the alps and the andes were carved out of plains which had been raised above the sea-level to the present heights of those mountains. two causes, he says, have concurred in forming these elevated plains. "one consists in the continual accumulation of material filling the portion of the ocean-basin from which the same seas slowly retreat; for it does not abandon those parts of the ocean-basin which are situated nearer and nearer to the shores that it tends to leave, until after having filled its bottom and having gradually raised it. it follows that the coasts which the sea is abandoning are never made by a very deep-lying formation, however often it appears to be such, for they are continually elevated as the result of the perpetual balancing of the sea, which casts off from its shores all the sediments brought down by the rivers; in such a way that the great depths of the ocean are not near the shore from which the sea retreats, but out in the middle of the ocean and near the opposite shores which the sea tends to invade. "the other cause, as we shall see, is found in the detritus of organic bodies successively accumulated, which perpetually elevates, although with extreme slowness, the soil of the dry portions of the globe, and which does it all the more rapidly, as the situation of these parts gives less play to the degradation of the surface caused by the rivers. "doubtless a plain which is destined some day to furnish the mountains which the rivers will carve out from its mass would have, when still but a little way from the sea, but a moderate elevation above its river channels; but gradually as the ocean basin removed from this plain, this basin constantly sinking down into the interior (_épaisseur_) of the external crust of the globe, and the soil of the plain perpetually rising higher from the deposition of the detritus of organic bodies, it results that, after ages of elevation of the plain in question, it would be in the end sufficiently thick for high mountains to be shaped and carved out of its mass. "although the ephemeral length of life of man prevents his appreciation of this fact, it is certain that the soil of a plain unceasingly acquires a real increase in its elevation in proportion as it is covered with different plants and animals. indeed the débris successively heaped up for numerous generations of all these beings which have by turns perished, and which, as the result of the action of their organs, have, during the course of this life, given rise to combinations which would never have existed without this means, most of the principles which have formed them not being borrowed from the soil; this débris, i say, wasting successively on the soil of the plain in question, gradually increases the thickness of its external bed, multiplies there the mineral matters of all kinds and gradually elevates the formation." our author, as is evident, had no conception, nor had any one else at the time he wrote, of the slow secular elevation of a continental plateau by crust-movements, and lamarck's idea of the formation of elevated plains on land by the accumulation of débris of organisms is manifestly inadequate, our aërial or eolian rocks and loess being wind-deposits of sand and silt rather than matters of organic origin. thus he cites as an example of his theory the vast elevated plains of tartary, which he thought had been dry land from time immemorable, though we now know that the rise took place in the quaternary or present period. on the other hand, given these vast elevated plains, he was correct in affirming that rivers flowing through them wore out enormous valleys and carved out high mountains, left standing by atmospheric erosion, for examples of such are to be seen in the valley of the nile, the colorado, the upper missouri, etc. he then distinguishes between granitic or crystalline mountains, and those composed of stratified rocks and volcanic mountains. the erosive action of rivers is thus discussed; they tend first, he says, to fill up the ocean basins, and second, to make the surface of the land broken and mountainous, by excavating and furrowing the plains. our author did not at all understand the causes of the inclination or tilting up of strata. little close observation or field work had yet been done, and the rocks about paris are but slightly if at all disturbed. he attributes the dipping down of strata to the inclination of the shores of the sea, though he adds that nevertheless it is often due to local subsidences. and then he remarks that "indeed in many mountains, and especially in the pyrenees, in the very centre of these mountains, we observe that the strata are for the most part either vertical or so inclined that they more or less approach this direction." "but," he asks, "should we conclude from this that there has necessarily occurred a universal catastrophe, a general overturning? this assumption, so convenient for those naturalists who would explain all the facts of this kind without taking the trouble to observe and study the course which nature follows, is not at all necessary here; for it is easy to conceive that the inclined direction of the beds in the mountains may have been produced by other causes, and especially by causes more natural and less hypothetical than a general overturning of strata." while streams of fresh water tend to fill up and destroy the ocean basins, he also insists that the movements of the sea, such as the tides, currents, storms, submarine volcanoes, etc., on the contrary, tend to unceasingly excavate and reëstablish these basins. of course we now know that tides and currents have no effect in the ocean depths, though their scouring effects near shore in shallow waters have locally had a marked effect in changing the relations of land and sea. lamarck went so far as to insist that the ocean basin owes its existence and its preservation to the scouring action of the tides and currents. the earth's interior was, in lamarck's opinion, solid, formed of quartzose and silicious rocks, and its centre of gravity did not coincide with its geographical centre, or what he calls the _centre de forme_. he imagined also that the ocean revolved around the globe from east to west, and that this movement, by its continuity, displaced the ocean basin and made it pass successively over all the surface of the earth. then, in the third chapter, he asks if the basin of the sea has always been where we now actually see it, and whether we find proofs of the sojourn of the sea in the place where it is now absent; if so, what are the causes of these changes. he reiterates his strange idea of a general movement of the ocean from east to west, at the rate of at least three leagues in twenty-four hours and due to the moon's influence. and here lamarck, in spite of his uniformitarian principles, is strongly cataclysmic. what he seems to have in mind is the great equatorial current between africa and the west indies. to this perpetual movement of the waters of the atlantic ocean he ventures to attribute the excavation of the gulf of mexico, and presumes that at the end of ages it will break through the isthmus of panama, and transform america into two great islands or two small continents. not understanding that the islands are either the result of upheaval, or outliers of continents, due to subsidence, lamarck supposed that his westward flow of the ocean, due to the moon's attraction, eroded the eastern shores of america, and the currents thus formed "in their efforts to move westward, arrested by america and by the eastern coasts of china, were in great part diverted towards the south pole, and seeking to break through a passage across the ancient continent have, a long time since, reduced the portion of this continent which united new holland to asia into an archipelago which comprises the molucca, philippine, and mariana islands." the west indies and windward islands were formed by the same means, and the sea not breaking through the isthmus of panama was turned southward, and the action of its currents resulted in detaching the island of tierra del fuego from south america. in like manner new zealand was separated from new holland, madagascar from africa, and ceylon from india. he then refers to other "displacements of the ocean basin," to the shallowing of the straits of sunda, of the baltic sea, the ancient subsidence of the coast of holland and zealand, and states that sweden offers all the appearance of having recently emerged from the sea, while the caspian sea, formerly much larger than at present, was once in communication with the black sea, and that some day the straits of sunda and the straits of dover will be dry land, so that the union of england and france will be formed anew. strangely enough, with these facts known to him, lamarck did not see that such changes were due to changes of level of the land rather than to their being abandoned or invaded by the sea, but explained these by his bizarre hypothesis of westward-flowing currents due to the moon's action; though it should be in all fairness stated that down to recent times there have been those who believed that it is the sea and not the land which has changed its level. this idea, that the sea and not the land has changed its level, was generally held at the time lamarck wrote, though strabo had made the shrewd observation that it was the land which moved. the greek geographer threw aside the notion of some of his contemporaries, and with wonderful prevision, considering the time he wrote and the limited observations he could make, claimed that it is not the sea which has risen or fallen, but the land itself which is sometimes raised up and sometimes depressed, while the sea-bottom may also be elevated or sunk down. he refers to such facts as deluges, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions, and sudden swellings of the land beneath the sea. "and it is not merely the small, but the large islands also, not merely the islands, but the continents which can be lifted up together with the sea; and, too, the large and small tracts may subside, for habitations and cities, like bure, bizona, and many others, have been engulfed by earthquakes."[ ] but it was not until eighteen centuries later that this doctrine, under the teachings of playfair, leopold von buch, and Élie de beaumont ( - ) became generally accepted. in humboldt remarked, "it is a fact to-day recognized by all geologists, that the rise of continents is due to an actual upheaval, and not to an apparent subsidence occasioned by a general depression of the level of the sea" (_cosmos_, i). yet as late as we have an essay by h. trautschold[ ] in which is a statement of the arguments which can be brought forward in favor of the doctrine that the increase of the land above sea level is due to the retirement of the sea.[ ] as authentic and unimpeachable proofs of the former existence of the sea where now it is absent, lamarck cites the occurrence of fossils in rocks inland. lamarck's first paper on fossils was read to the institute in , or about three years previous to the publication of the _hydrogéologie_. he restricts the term "fossils" to vegetable and animal remains, since the word in his time was by some loosely applied to minerals as well as fossils; to anything dug out of the earth. "we find fossils," he says, "on dry land, even in the middle of continents and large islands; and not only in places far removed from the sea, but even on mountains and in their bowels, at considerable heights, each part of the earth's surface having at some time been a veritable ocean bottom." he then quotes at length accounts of such instances from buffon, and notices their prodigious number, and that while the greater number are marine, others are fresh-water and terrestrial shells, and the marine shells may be divided into littoral and pelagic. "this distinction is very important to make, because the consideration of fossils is, as we have already said, one of the principal means of knowing well the revolutions which have taken place on the surface of our globe. this subject is of great importance, and under this point of view it should lead naturalists to study fossil shells, in order to compare them with their analogues which we can discover in the sea; finally, to carefully seek the places where each species lives, the banks which are formed of them, the different beds which these banks may present, etc., etc., so that we do not believe it out of place to insert here the principal considerations which have already resulted from that which is known in this respect. "_the fossils which are found in the dry parts of the surface of the globe are evident indications of a long sojourn of the sea in the very places where we observe them._" under this heading, after repeating the statement previously made that fossils occur in all parts of the dry land, in the midst of the continents and on high mountains, he inquires _by what cause_ so many marine shells could be found in the explored parts of the world. discarding the old idea that they are monuments of the deluge, transformed into fossils, he denies that there was such a general catastrophe as a universal deluge, and goes on to say in his assured, but calm and philosophic way: "on the globe which we inhabit, everything is submitted to continual and inevitable changes, which result from the essential order of things: they take place, in truth, with more or less promptitude or slowness, according to the nature, the condition, or the situation of the objects; nevertheless they are wrought in some time or other. "to nature, time is nothing, and it never presents a difficulty; she always has it at her disposal, and it is for her a means without limit, with which she has made the greatest as well as the least things. "the changes to which everything in this world is subjected are changes not only of form and of nature, but they are changes also of bulk, and even of situation. "all the considerations stated in the preceding chapters should convince us that nothing on the surface of the terrestrial globe is immutable. they teach us that the vast ocean which occupies so great a part of the surface of our globe cannot have its bed constantly fixed in the same place; that the dry or exposed parts of this surface themselves undergo perpetual changes in their condition, and that they are in turn successively invaded and abandoned by the sea. "there is, indeed, every evidence that these enormous masses of water continually displace themselves, both their bed and their limits. "in truth these displacements, which are never interrupted, are in general only made with extreme and almost inappreciable slowness, but they are in ceaseless operation, and with such constancy that the ocean bottom, which necessarily loses on one side while it gains on another, has already, without doubt, spread over not only once, but even several times, every point of the surface of the globe. "if it is thus, if each point of the surface of the terrestrial globe has been in turn dominated by the seas--that is to say, has contributed to form the bed of those immense masses of water which constitute the ocean--it should result ( ) that the insensible but uninterrupted transfer of the bed of the ocean over the whole surface of the globe has given place to deposits of the remains of marine animals which we should find in a fossil state; ( ) that this translation of the ocean basin should be the reason why the dry portions of the earth are always more elevated than the level of the sea; so that the old ocean bed should become exposed without being elevated above the sea, and without consequently giving rise to the formation of mountains which we observe in so many different regions of the naked parts of our globe." thus littoral shells of many genera, such as pectens, tellinæ, cockle shells, turban shells (_sabots_), etc., madrepores and other littoral polyps, the bones of marine or of amphibious animals which have lived near the sea, and which occur as fossils, are then unimpeachable monuments of the sojourn of the sea on the points of the dry parts of the globe where we observe their deposits, and besides these occur deep-water forms. "thus the encrinites, the belemnites, the orthoceratites, the ostracites, the terebratules, etc., all animals which habitually live at the bottom, found for the most part among the fossils deposited on the point of the globe in question, are unimpeachable witnesses which attest that this same place was once part of the bottom or great depths of the sea." he then attempts to prove, and does so satisfactorily, that the shells he refers to are what he calls deep-water (pélagiennes). he proves the truth of his thesis by the following facts: . we are already familiar with a marine gryphæa, and different terebratulæ, also marine shell-fish, which do not, however, live near shore. . also the greatest depth which has been reached with the rake or the dredge is not destitute of molluscs, since we find there a great number which only live at this depth, and without instruments to reach and bring them up we should know nothing of the _cones_, _olives_, mitra, many species of murex, strombus, etc. . finally, since the discovery of a living encrinus, drawn up on a sounding line from a great depth, and where lives the animal or polyp in question, it is not only possible to assure ourselves that at this depth there are other living animals, but on the contrary we are strongly bound to think that other species of the same genus, and probably other animals of different genera, also live at the same depths. all this leads one to admit, with bruguière,[ ] the existence of deep-water shell-fish and polyps, which, like him, i distinguish from littoral shells and polyps. "the two sorts of monuments of which i have above spoken, namely, littoral and deep-sea fossils, may be, and often should be, found separated by different beds in the same bank or in the same mountains, since they have been deposited there at very different epochs. but they may often be found mixed together, because the movements of the water, the currents, submarine volcanoes, etc., have overturned the beds, yet some regular deposits in water always tranquil would be left in quite distant beds.... every dry part of the earth's surface, when the presence or the abundance of marine fossils prove that formerly the sea has remained in that place, has necessarily twice received, for a single incursion of the sea, littoral shells, and once deep-sea shells, in three different deposits--this will not be disputed. but as such an incursion of the sea can only be accomplished by a period of immense duration, it follows that the littoral shells deposited at the first sojourn of the edge of the sea, and constituting the first deposit, have been destroyed--that is to say, have not been preserved to the present time; while the deep-water shells form the second deposit, and there the littoral shells of the third deposit are, in fact, the only ones which now exist, and which constitute the fossils that we see." he again asserts that these deposits could not be the result of any sudden catastrophe, because of the necessarily long sojourn of the sea to account for the extensive beds of fossil shells, the remains of "infinitely multiplied generations of shelled animals which have lived in this place, and have there successively deposited their débris." he therefore supposes that these remains, "continually heaped up, have formed these shell banks, become fossilized after the lapse of considerable time, and in which it is often possible to distinguish different beds." he then continues his line of anti-catastrophic reasoning, and we must remember that in his time facts in biology and geology were feebly grasped, and scientific reasoning or induction was in its infancy. "i would again inquire how, in the supposition of a universal catastrophe, there could have been preserved an infinity of delicate shells which the least shock would break, but of which we now find a great number uninjured among other fossils. how also could it happen that bivalve shells, with which calcareous rocks and even those changed into a silicious condition are interlarded, should be all still provided with their two valves, as i have stated, if the animals of these shells had not lived in these places? "there is no doubt but that the remains of so many molluscs, that so many shells deposited and consequently changed into fossils, and most of which were totally destroyed before their substance became silicified, furnished a great part of the calcareous matter which we observe on the surface and in the upper beds of the earth. "nevertheless there is in the sea, for the formation of calcareous matter, a cause which is greater than shelled molluscs, which is consequently still more powerful, and to which must be referred ninety-nine hundredths, and indeed more, of the calcareous matter occurring in nature. this cause, so important to consider, is the existence of _coralligenous polyps_, which we might therefore call _testaceous polyps_, because, like the testaceous molluscs, these polyps have the faculty of forming, by a transudation or a continual secretion of their bodies, the stony and calcareous polypidom on which they live. "in truth these polyps are animals so small that a single one only forms a minute quantity of calcareous matter. but in this case what nature does not obtain in any volume or in quantity from any one individual, she simply receives by the number of animals in question, through the enormous multiplicity of these animals, and their astonishing fecundity--namely, by the wonderful faculty they have of promptly regenerating, of multiplying in a short time their generations successively, and rapidly accumulating; finally, by the total amount of reunion of the products of these numerous little animals. "moreover, it is a fact now well known and well established that the coralligenous polyps, namely, this great family of animals with coral stocks, such as the millepores, the madrepores, astrææ, meandrinæ, etc., prepare on a great scale at the bottom of the sea, by a continual secretion of their bodies, and as the result of their enormous multiplication and their accumulated generations, the greatest part of the calcareous matter which exists. the numerous coral stocks which these animals produce, and whose bulk and numbers perpetually increase, form in certain places islands of considerable extent, fill up extensive bays, gulfs, and roadsteads; in a word, close harbors, and entirely change the condition of coasts. "these enormous banks of madrepores and millepores, heaped upon each other, covered and intermingled with serpulæ, different kinds of oysters, patellæ, barnacles, and other shells fixed by their base, form irregular mountains of an almost limitless extent. "but when, after the lapse of considerable time, the sea has left the places where these immense deposits are laid down, then the slow but combined alteration that these great masses undergo, left uncovered and exposed to the incessant action of the air, light, and a variable humidity, changes them gradually into fossils and destroys their membranous or gelatinous part, which is the readiest to decompose. this alteration, which the enormous masses of the corals in question continued to undergo, caused their structure to gradually disappear, and their great porosity unceasingly diminished the parts of these stony masses by displacing and again bringing together the molecules composing them, so that, undergoing a new aggregation, these calcareous molecules obtained a number of points of contact, and constituted harder and more compact masses. it finally results that instead of the original masses of madrepores and millepores there occurs only masses of a compact calcareous rock, which modern mineralogists have improperly called _primitive limestone_, because, seeing in it no traces of shells or corals, they have mistaken these stony masses for deposits of a matter primitively existing in nature." he then reiterates the view that these deposits of marble and limestones, often forming mountain ranges, could not have been the result of a universal catastrophe, and in a very modern way goes on to specify what the limits of catastrophism are. the only catastrophes which a naturalist can reasonably admit as having taken place are partial or local ones, those dependent on causes acting in isolated places, such as the disturbances which are caused by volcanic eruptions, by earthquakes, by local inundations, by violent storms, etc. these catastrophes are with reason admissible, because we observe their analogues, and because we know that they often happen. he then gives examples of localities along the coast of france, as at manche, where there are ranges of high hills made up of limestones containing gryphææ, ammonites, and other deep-water shells. in the conclusion of the chapter, after stating that the ocean has repeatedly covered the greater part of the earth, he then claims that "the displacement of the sea, producing a constantly variable inequality in the mass of the terrestrial radii, has necessarily caused the earth's centre of gravity to vary, as also its two poles.[ ] moreover, since it appears that this variation, very irregular as it is, not being subjected to any limits, it is very probable that each point of the surface of the planet we inhabit is really in the case of successively finding itself subjected to different climates." he then exclaims in eloquent, profound, and impassioned language: "how curious it is to see that such suppositions receive their confirmation from the consideration of the state of the earth's surface and of its external crust, from that of the nature of certain fossils found in abundance in the northern regions of the earth, and whose analogues now live in warm climates; finally, in that of the ancient astronomical observations of the egyptians. "oh, how great is the antiquity of the terrestrial globe, and how small are the ideas of those who attribute to the existence of this globe a duration of six thousand and some hundred years since its origin down to our time! "the physico-naturalist and the geologist in this respect see things very differently; for if they have given the matter the slightest consideration--the one, the nature of fossils spread in such great numbers in all the exposed parts of the globe, both in elevated situations and at considerable depths in the earth; the other, the number and disposition of the beds, as also the nature and order of the materials which compose the external crust of this globe studied throughout a great part of its thickness and in the mountain masses--have they not had opportunities to convince themselves that the antiquity of this same globe is so great that it is absolutely beyond the power of man to appreciate it in an adequate way! "assuredly our chronologies do not extend back very far, and they could only have been made by propping them up by fables. traditions, both oral and written, become necessarily lost, and it is in the nature of things that this should be so. "even if the invention of printing had been more ancient than it is, what would have resulted at the end of ten thousand years? everything changes, everything becomes modified, everything becomes lost or destroyed. every living language insensibly changes its idiom; at the end of a thousand years the writings made in any language can only be read with difficulty; after two thousand years none of these writings will be understood. besides wars, vandalism, the greediness of tyrants and of those who guide religious opinions, who always rely on the ignorance of the human race and are supported by it, how many are the causes, as proved by history and the sciences, of epochs after epochs of revolutions, which have more or less completely destroyed them. "how many are the causes by which man loses all trace of that which has existed, and cannot believe nor even conceive of the immense antiquity of the earth he inhabits! "how great will yet seem this antiquity of the terrestrial globe in the eyes of man when he shall form a just idea of the origin of living bodies, as also of the causes of the development and of the gradual process of perfection of the organization of these bodies, and especially when it will be conceived that, time and favorable circumstances having been necessary to give existence to all the living species such as we actually see, he is himself the last result and the actual maximum of this process of perfecting, the limit (_terme_) of which, if it exists, cannot be known." in the fourth chapter of the book there is less to interest the reader, since the author mainly devotes it to a reiteration of the ideas of his earlier works on physics and chemistry. he claims that the minerals and rocks composing the earth's crust are all of organic origin, including even granite. the thickness of this crust he thinks, in the absence of positive knowledge, to be from three to four leagues, or from nine to twelve miles. after describing the mode of formation of minerals, including agates, flint, geodes, etc., he discusses the process of fossilization by molecular changes, silicious particles replacing the vegetable or animal matter, as in the case of fossil wood. while, then, the products of animals such as corals and molluscs are limestones, those of vegetables are humus and clay; and all of these deposits losing their less fixed principles pass into a silicious condition, and end by being reduced to quartz, which is the earthy element in its purest form. the salts, pyrites, and metals only differ from other minerals by the different circumstances under which they were accumulated, in their different proportions, and in their much greater amount of carbonic or acidific fire. regarding granite, which, he says, naturalists very erroneously consider as _primitive_, he begins by observing that it is only by conjecture that we should designate as primitive any matter whatever. he recognizes the fact that granite forms the highest mountains, which are generally arranged in more or less regular chains. but he strangely assumes that the constituents of granite, _i.e._, felspar, quartz, and mica, did not exist before vegetables, and that these minerals and their aggregation into granite were the result of slow deposition in the ocean.[ ] he goes so far as to assert that the porphyritic rocks were not thus formed in the sea, but that they are the result of deposits carried down by streams, especially torrents flowing down from mountains. gneiss, he thinks, resulted from the detritus of granitic rocks, by means of an inappreciable cement, and formed in a way analogous to that of the porphyries. then he attacks the notion of leibnitz of a liquid globe, in which all mineral substances were precipitated tumultuously, replacing this idea by his chemical notion of the origin of the crystalline and volcanic rocks. he is on firmer ground in explaining the origin of chalk and clay, for the rocks of the region about paris, with which he was familiar, are sedimentary and largely of organic origin. in the "addition" (pp.  - ) following the fourth chapter lamarck states that, allowing for the variations in the intensity of the cause of elevation of the land as the result of the accumulations of organic matter, he thinks he can, without great error, consider the mean rate as  mm. (  foot) a century. as a concrete example it has been observed, he says, that one river valley has risen a foot higher in the space of eleven years. passing by his speculations on the displacement of the poles of the earth, and on the elevations of the equatorial regions, which will dispense with the necessity of considering the earth as originally in a liquid condition, he allows that "the terrestrial globe is not at all a body entirely and truly solid, but that it is a combination (_réunion_) of bodies more or less solid, displaceable in their mass or in their separate parts, and among which there is a great number which undergo continual changes in condition." it was, of course, too early in the history of geology for lamarck to seize hold of the fact, now so well known, that the highest mountain ranges, as the alps, pyrenees, the caucasus, atlas ranges, and the mountains of the moon (he does not mention the himalayas) are the youngest, and that the lowest mountains, especially those in the more northern parts of the continents, are but the roots or remains of what were originally lofty mountain ranges. his idea, on the contrary, was, that the high mountain chains above mentioned were the remains of ancient equatorial elevations, which the fresh waters, for an enormous multitude of ages, were in the process of progressively eroding and wearing down. what he says of the formation of coal is noteworthy: "wherever there are masses of fossil wood buried in the earth, the enormous subterranean beds of coal that are met with in different countries, these are the witnesses of ancient encroachments of the sea, over a country covered with forests; it has overturned them, buried them in deposits of clay, and then after a time has withdrawn." in the appendix he briefly rehearses the laws of evolution as stated in his opening lecture of his course given in the year ix. ( ), and which would be the subject of his projected work, _biologie_, the third and last part of the terrestrial physics, a work which was not published, but which was probably comprised in his _philosophie zoologique_. the _hydrogéologie_ closes with a "_mémoire sur la matière du feu_" and one "_sur la matière du son_," both being reprinted from the _journal de physique_. footnotes: [ ] _evolution in biology_, in _darwiniana_, new york, , p.  . [ ] _principles of geology_. [ ] lyell's _principles of geology_, th edit., p.  . [ ] quoted from flourens' _Éloge historique de georges cuvier_, hoefer's edition. paris, . [ ] _remarques sur les coquilles fossiles de quelques cantons de la touraine_. mém. acad. sc. paris, , pp.  - . [ ] _Éloge historique de werner_, p.  . [ ] _history of civilization_, i. p.  . [ ] _france under louis xv._, p.  . [ ] _france under louis xv._, p.  . [ ] see vol. iii. of his _mémoires sur differentes parties des sciences et des arts_, pp.  - . geikie does not give the date of the third volume of his work, but it was apparently about , as vol. ii. was published in . i copy geikie's account of guettard's observations often in his own words. [ ] lyell's _principles of geology_. [ ] geikie states that the doctrine of the origin of valleys by the erosive action of the streams which flow through them, though it has been credited to various writers, was first clearly taught from actual concrete examples by desmarest. _l. c._, p.  . [ ] jameson's _cuvier's theory of the earth_, new york, . [ ] j. g. lehmann of berlin, in , first formally stated that there was some regular succession in the strata, his observations being based on profiles of the hartz and the erzgebirge. he proposed the names zechstein, kupferschiefer, rothes todtliegendes, which still linger in german treatises. g. c. fuchsel ( ) wrote on the stratigraphy of the coal measures, the permian and the later systems in thuringia. (zittel.) [ ] james hutton was born at edinburgh, june  , , where he died march  , . [ ] quoted from lyell's _principles of geology_, eighth edit., p.  . [ ] _bulletin société imp. des naturalistes de moscou_, xlii. ( ), pt.  . p.  , quoted from geikie's _geology_, p.  , footnote. [ ] suess also, in his _anlitz_ etc., substitutes for the folding of the earth's crust by tangential pressure the subsidence by gravity of portions of the crust, their falling in obliging the sea to follow. suess also explains the later transgressions of the sea by the progressive accumulation of sediments which raise the level of the sea by their deposition at its bottom. thus he believes that the true factor in the deformation of the globe is vertical descent, and not, as neumayr had previously thought, the folding of the crust. [ ] bruguière ( - ), a conchologist of great merit. his descriptions of new species were clear and precise. in his paper on the coal mines of the mountains of cevennes (choix de mémoires d'hist. nat., ) he made the first careful study of the coal formation in the cevennes, including its beds of coal, sandstone, and shale. a. de jussieu had previously supposed that the immense deposits of coal were due to sudden cataclysms or to one of the great revolutions of the earth during which the seas of the east or west indies, having been driven as far as into europe, had deposited on its soil all these exotic plants to be found there, after having torn them up on their way. but bruguière, who is to be reckoned among the early uniformitarians, says that "the capacity for observation is now too well-informed to be contented with such a theory," and he explains the formation of coal deposits in the following essentially modern way: "the stores of coal, although formed of vegetable substances, owe their origin to the sea. it is when the places where we now find them were covered by its waters that these prodigious masses of vegetable substances were gathered there, and this operation of nature, which astonishes the imagination, far from depending on any extraordinary commotion of the globe, seems, on the contrary, to be only the result of time, of an order of things now existing, and especially that of slow changes" (i, pp.  , ). the proofs he brings forward are the horizontality of the beds, both of coal and deposits between them, the marine shells in the sandstones, the fossil fishes intermingled with the plant remains in the shales; moreover, some of the coal deposits are covered by beds of limestone containing marine shells which lived in the sea at a very great depth. the alternation of these beds, the great mass of vegetable matter which lived at small distances from the soil which conceals them, and the occurrence of these beds so high up, show that at this time europe was almost wholly covered by the sea, the summits of the alps and the pyrenees being then, as he says, so many small islands in the midst of the ocean. he also intimates that the climate when these ferns ("bamboo" and "banana") lived was warmer than that of europe at present. in this essay, then, we see a great advance in correctness of geological observation and reasoning over any previous writers, while its suggestions were appreciated and adopted by lamarck. [ ] hooke had previously, in order to explain the presence of tropical fossil shells in england, indulged in a variety of speculations concerning changes in the position of the axis of the earth's rotation, "a shifting of the earth's centre of gravity analogous to the revolutions of the magnetic pole, etc." (lyell's _principles_). see also p.  . [ ] cuvier, in a footnote to his _discours_ (sixth edition, p.  ), in referring to this view, states that it originated with rodig (_la physique_, p.  , leipzig, ) and de maillet (_telliamed_, tome ii., p.  ), "also an infinity of new german works." he adds: "m. de lamarck has recently expanded this system in france at great length in his _hydrogéologie_ and in his _philosophie zoologique_." is the rodig referred to ih. chr. rodig, author of _beiträge zur naturwissenschaft_ (leipzig, . ^o)? we have been unable to discover this view in de maillet; cuvier's reference to p.  is certainly incorrect, as quite a different subject is there discussed. chapter ix lamarck the founder of invertebrate palÆontology it was fortunate for palæontology that the two greatest zoölogists of the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries, lamarck and cuvier, lived in the paris basin, a vast cemetery of corals, shells, and mammals; and not far from extensive deposits of cretaceous rocks packed with fossil invertebrates. with their then unrivalled knowledge of recent or existing forms, they could restore the assemblages of extinct animals which peopled the cretaceous ocean, and more especially the tertiary seas and lakes. lamarck drew his supplies of tertiary shells from the tertiary beds situated within a radius of from twenty-five to thirty miles from the centre of paris, and chiefly from the village of grignon, about ten miles west of paris, beyond versailles, and still a rich collecting ground for the students of the museum and sorbonne. he acknowledges the aid received from defrance,[ ] who had already collected at grignon five hundred species of fossil shells, three-fourths of which, he says, had not then been described. lamarck's first essay ("_sur les fossiles_") on fossils in general was published at the end of his _système des animaux sans vertèbres_ (pp.  - ), in , a year before the publication of the _hydrogéologie_. "i give the name _fossils_," he says, "to remains of living beings, changed by their long sojourn in the earth or under water, but whose forms and structure are still recognizable. "from this point of view, the bones of vertebrate animals and the remains of testaceous molluscs, of certain crustacea, of many echinoderms, coral polyps, when after having been for a long time buried in the earth or hidden under the sea, will have undergone an alteration which, while changing their substance, has nevertheless destroyed neither their forms, their figures, nor the special features of their structures." he goes on to say that the animal parts having been destroyed, the shell remains, being composed of calcareous matter. this shell, then, has lost its lustre, its colors, and often even its nacre, if it had any; and in this altered condition it is usually entirely white. in some cases where the shells have remained for a long period buried in a mud of some particular color, the shell receives the same color. "in france, the fossil shells of courtagnon near reims, grignon near versailles, of what was formerly touraine, etc., are almost all still in this calcareous state, having more or less completely lost their animal parts--namely, their lustre, their peculiar colors, and their nacre. "other fossils have undergone such an alteration that not only have they lost their animal portion, but their substance has been changed into a silicious matter. i give to this second kind of fossil the name of _silicious fossils_, and examples of this kind are the different oysters ('des ostracites'), many terebratulæ ('des terebratulites'), trigoniæ, ammonites, echinites, encrinites, etc. "the fossils of which i have just spoken are in part buried in the earth, and others lie scattered over its surface. they occur in all the exposed parts of our globe, in the middle even of the largest continents, and, what is very remarkable, they occur on mountains up to very considerable altitudes. in many places the fossils buried in the earth form banks extending several leagues in length."[ ] conchologists, he says, did not care to collect or study fossil shells, because they had lost their lustre, colors, and beauty, and they were rejected from collections on this account as "dead" and uninteresting. "but," he adds, "since attention has been drawn to the fact that these fossils are extremely valuable _monuments_ for the study of the revolutions which have taken place in different regions of the earth, and of the changes which the beings living there have themselves successively undergone (in my lectures i have always insisted on these considerations), consequently the search for and study of fossils have excited special interest, and are now the objects of the greatest interest to naturalists." lamarck then combats the views of several naturalists, undoubtedly referring to cuvier, that the fossils are extinct species, and that the earth has passed through a general catastrophe (_un bouleversement universel_) with the result that a multitude of species of animals and plants were consequently absolutely lost or destroyed, and remarks in the following telling and somewhat derisive language: "a universal catastrophe (_bouleversement_) which necessarily regulates nothing, mixes up and disperses everything, is a very convenient way to solve the problem for those naturalists who wish to explain everything, and who do not take the trouble to observe and investigate the course followed by nature as respects its production and everything which constitutes its domain. i have already elsewhere said what should be thought of this so-called universal overturning of the globe; i return to fossils. "it is very true that, of the great quantity of fossil shells gathered in the different countries of the earth, there are yet but a very small number of species whose living or marine analogues are known. nevertheless, although this number may be very small, which no one will deny, it is enough to suppress the universality announced in the proposition cited above. "it is well to remark that among the fossil shells whose marine or living analogues are not known, there are many which have a form closely allied to shells of the same genera known to be now living in the sea. however, they differ more or less, and cannot be rigorously regarded as the same species as those known to be living, since they do not perfectly resemble them. these are, it is said, extinct species. "i am convinced that it is possible never to find, among fresh or marine shells, any shells perfectly similar to the fossil shells of which i have just spoken. i believe i know the reason; i proceed to succinctly indicate, and i hope that it will then be seen, that although many fossil shells are different from all the marine shells known, this does not prove that the species of these shells are extinct, but only that these species have changed as the result of time, and that actually they have different forms from those individuals whose fossil remains we have found." then he goes on in the same strain as in the opening discourse, saying that nothing terrestrial remains constant, that geological changes are continually occurring, and that these changes produce in living organisms a diversity of habits, a different mode of life, and as the result modifications or developments in their organs and in the shape of their parts. "we should still realize that all the modifications which the organism undergoes in its structure and form as the result of the influence of circumstances which would influence this being, are propagated by generation, and that after a long series of ages not only will it be able to form new species, new genera, and even new orders, but also each species will even necessarily vary in its organization and in its forms. "we should not be more surprised then if, among the numerous fossils which occur in all the dry parts of the globe and which offer us the remains of so many animals which have formerly existed, there should be found so few of which we know the living analogues. if there is in this, on the contrary, anything which should astonish us, it is to find that among these numerous fossil remains of beings which have lived there should be known to us some whose analogues still exist, from a germ to a vast multitude of living forms, of different and ascending grades of perfection, ending in man. "this fact, as our collection of fossils proves, should lead us to suppose that the fossil remains of the animals whose living analogues we know are the less ancient fossils. the species to which each of them belongs had doubtless not yet time to vary in any of its forms. "we should, then, never expect to find among the living species the totality of those that we meet with in the fossil state, and yet we cannot conclude that any species can really be lost or extinct. it is undoubtedly possible that among the largest animals some species have been destroyed as a result of the multiplication of man in the regions where they live. but this conjecture cannot be based on the consideration of fossils alone; we can only form an opinion in this respect when all the inhabited parts of the globe will have become perfectly known." lamarck did not have, as we now have, a knowledge of the geological succession of organic forms. the comparatively full and detailed view which we possess of the different vast assemblages of plant and animal life which have successively peopled the surface of our earth is a vision on which his eyes never rested. his slight, piecemeal glimpse of the animal life of the paris basin, and of the few other extinct forms then known, was all he had to depend upon or reason from. he was not disposed to believe that the thread of life once begun in the earliest times could be arbitrarily broken by catastrophic means; that there was no relation whatever between the earlier and later faunas. he utterly opposed cuvier's view that species once formed could ever be lost or become extinct without ancestors or descendants. he on the contrary believed that species underwent a slow modification, and that the fossil forms are the ancestors of the animals now living. moreover, lamarck was the inventor of the first genealogical tree; his phylogeny, in the second volume of his _philosophie zoologique_ (p.  ), proves that he realized that the forms leading up to the existing ones were practically extinct, as we now use the word. lamarck in theory was throughout, as houssay well says, at one with us who are now living, but a century behind us in knowledge of the facts needed to support his theory. in this first published expression of his views on palæontology, we find the following truths enumerated on which the science is based: ( ) the great length of geological time; ( ) the continuous existence of animal life all through the different geological periods without sudden total extinctions and as sudden recreations of new assemblages; ( ) the physical environment remaining practically the same throughout in general, but with ( ) continual gradual but not catastrophic changes in the relative distribution of land and sea and other modifications in the physical geography, changes which ( ) caused corresponding changes in the habitat, and ( ) consequently in the habits of the living beings; so that there has been all through geological history a slow modification of life-forms. thus lamarck's idea of creation is _evolutional_ rather than _uniformitarian_. there was, from his point of view, not simply a uniform march along a dead level, but a progression, a change from the lower or generalized to the higher or specialized--an evolution or unfolding of organic life. in his effort to disprove catastrophism he failed to clearly see that species, as we style them, became extinct, though really the changes in the species practically amounted to extinctions of the earlier species as such. the little that was known to lamarck at the time he wrote, prevented his knowing that species became extinct, as we say, or recognizing the fact that while some species, genera, and even orders may rise, culminate, and die, others are modified, while a few persist from one period to another. he did, however, see clearly that, taking plant and animal life as a whole, it underwent a slow modification, the later forms being the descendants of the earlier; and this truth is the central one of modern palæontology. lamarck's first memoir on fossil shells, in which he described many new species, was published in , after the appearance of his _hydrogéologie_, to which he refers. it was the first of a series of descriptive papers, which appeared at intervals from to . he does not fail to open the series of memoirs with some general remarks, which prove his broad, philosophic spirit, that characterizing the founder of a new science. he begins by saying that the fossil forms have their analogues in the tropical seas. he claims that there was evident proof that these molluscs could not have lived in a climate like that of places in which they now occur, instancing _nautilius pompilius_, which now lives in the seas of warm countries; also the presence of exotic ferns, palms, fossil amber, fossil gum elastic, besides the occurrence of fossil crocodiles and elephants both in france and germany.[ ] hence there have been changes of climate since these forms flourished, and, he adds, the intervals between these changes of climate were stationary periods, whose duration was practically without limit. he assigns a duration to these stationary or intermediate periods of from three to five million years each--"a duration infinitely small relative to those required for all the changes of the earth's surface." he refers in an appreciative way to the first special treatise on fossil shells ever published, that of an englishman named brander,[ ] who collected the shells "out of the cliffs by the sea-coast between christ church and lymington, but more especially about the cliffs by the village of hordwell," where the strata are filled with these fossils. lamarck, working upon collections of tertiary shells from grignon and also from courtagnon near reims, with the aid of brander's work showed that these beds, not known to be eocene, extended into hampshire, england; thus being the first to correlate by their fossils, though in a limited way to be sure, the tertiary beds of france with those of england. how he at a later period ( ) regarded fossils and their relations to geology may be seen in his later memoirs, _sur les fossiles des environs de paris_.[ ] "the determination of the characters, both generic and specific, of animals of which we find the fossil remains in almost all the dry parts of the continents and large islands of our globe will be, from several points of view, a thing extremely useful to the progress of natural history. at the outset, the more this determination is advanced, the more will it tend to complete our knowledge in regard to the species which exist in nature and of those which have existed, as it is true that some of them have been lost, as we have reason to believe, at least as concerns the large animals. moreover, this same determination will be singularly advantageous for the advancement of geology; for the fossil remains in question may be considered, from their nature, their condition, and their situation, as authentic monuments of the revolutions which the surface of our globe has undergone, and they can throw a strong light on the nature and character of these revolutions." this series of papers on the fossils of the paris tertiary basin extended through the first eight volumes of the _annales_, and were gathered into a volume published in . in his descriptions his work was comparative, the fossil species being compared with their living representatives. the thirty plates, containing figures representing species (exclusive of those figured by brard), were afterwards published, with the explanations, but not the descriptions, as a separate volume in .[ ] this (the text published in ) is the first truly scientific palæontological work ever published, preceding cuvier's _ossemens fossiles_ by six years. when we consider lamarck's--at his time unrivalled--knowledge of molluscs, his philosophical treatment of the relations of the study of fossils to geology, his correlation of the tertiary beds of england with those of france, and his comparative descriptions of the fossil forms represented by the existing shells, it seems not unreasonable to regard him as the founder of invertebrate palæontology, as cuvier was of vertebrate or mammalian palæontology. we have entered the claim that lamarck was one of the chief founders of palæontology, and the first french author of a genuine, detailed palæontological treatise. it must be admitted, therefore, that the statement generally made that cuvier was the founder of this science should be somewhat modified, though he may be regarded as the chief founder of vertebrate palæontology. in this field, however, cuvier had his precursors not only in germany and holland, but also in france. our information as to the history of the rise of vertebrate palæontology is taken from blainville's posthumous work entitled _cuvier et geoffroy saint-hilaire_.[ ] in this work, a severe critical and perhaps not always sufficiently appreciative account of cuvier's character and work, we find an excellent history of the first beginnings of vertebrate palæontology. blainville has little or nothing to say of the first steps in invertebrate palæontology, and, singularly enough, not a word of lamarck's principles and of his papers and works on fossil shells--a rather strange oversight, because he was a friend and admirer of lamarck, and succeeded him in one of the two departments of invertebrates created at the museum d'histoire naturelle after lamarck's death. blainville, who by the way was the first to propose the word _palæontology_, shows that the study of the great extinct mammals had for forty years been held in great esteem in germany, before faujas and cuvier took up the subject in france. two frenchmen, also before , had examined mammalian bones. thus bernard de jussieu knew of the existence in a fossil state of the teeth of the hippopotamus. guettard[ ] published in a memoir on the fossil bones of aix en provence. lamanon ( - )[ ] in a beautiful memoir described a head, almost entire, found in the gypsum beds of paris. daubenton had also slightly anticipated cuvier's law of correlation, giving "a very remarkable example of the mode of procedure to follow in order to solve these kinds of questions by the way in which he had recognized a bone of a giraffe whose skeleton he did not possess" (de blainville). "but it was especially in germany, in the hands of pallas, camper, blumenbach, anatomists and physicians, also those of walch, merck, hollmann, esper, rosenmüller, and collini (who was not, however, occupied with natural history), of beckman, who had even discussed the subject in a general way (_de reductione rerum fossilium ad genera naturalia prototyporum--nov. comm. soc. scient. goettingensis_, t. ii.), that palæontology applied to quadrupeds had already settled all that pertained to the largest species." as early as , hollmann[ ] had admirably identified the bones of a rhinoceros found in a bone-deposit of the hartz, although he had no skeleton of this animal for comparison. pallas, in a series of memoirs dating from , had discovered and distinguished the species of siberian elephant or mammoth, the rhinoceros, and the large species of oxen and buffalo whose bones were found in such abundance in the quaternary deposits of siberia; and, as blainville says, if he did not distinguish the species, it was because at this epoch the question of the distinction of the two species of rhinoceros and of elephants, in the absence of material, could not be solved. this solution, however, was made by the dutch anatomist camper, in , who had brought together at amsterdam a collection of skeletons and skulls of the existing species which enabled him for the first time to make the necessary comparisons between the extinct and living species. a few years later ( ) blumenbach confirmed camper's identification, and gave the name of _elephas primigenius_ to the siberian mammoth. "beckman" [says blainville] "as early as had even published a very good memoir on the way in which we should consider fossil organic bodies; he was also the first to propose using the name _fossilia_ instead of _petrefacta_, and to name the science which studies fossils _oryctology_. it was also he who admitted that these bodies should be studied with reference to the class, order, genus, species, as we would do with a living being, and he compared them, which he called _prototypes_,[ ] with their analogues. he then passes in review, following the zoölogical order, the fossils which had been discovered by naturalists. he even described one of them as a new species, besides citing, with an erudition then rare, all the authors and all the works where they were described. he did no more than to indicate but not name each species. thus he was the means of soon producing a number of german authors who made little advance from lack of anatomical knowledge; but afterwards the task fell into the hands of men capable of giving to the newly created palæontology a remarkable impulse, and one which since then has not abated." blumenbach,[ ] the most eminent and all-round german anatomist and physiologist of his time, one of the founders of anthropology as well as of palæontology, had meanwhile established the fact that there were two species of fossil cave-bear, which he named _ursus spelæus_ and _u. arctoideus_. he began to publish his _archæologia telluris_,[ ] the first part of which appeared in . from blainville's useful summary we learn that blumenbach, mainly limiting his work to the fossils of hanover, aimed at studying fossils in order to explain the revolutions of the earth. "hence the order he proposed to follow was not that commonly followed in treatises on oryctology, namely, systematic, following the classes and the orders of the animal and vegetable kingdom, but in a chronological order, in such a way as to show that the classes, so far as it was possible to conjecture with any probability, were established after or in consequence of the different revolutions of the earth. "thus, as we see, all the great questions, more or less insoluble, which the study of fossil organic bodies can offer, were raised and even discussed by the celebrated professor of göttingen as early as , before anything of the sort could have arisen from the essays of m. g. cuvier; the errors of distribution in the classes committed by blumenbach were due to the backward state of geology." the political troubles of germany, which also bore heavily upon the university of göttingen, probably brought blumenbach's labors to an end, for after a second "specimen" of his work, of less importance than the first, the _archæologia telluris_ was discontinued. the french geologist faujas,[ ] who also published several articles on fossil animals, ceased his labors, and now cuvier began his memorable work. the field of the labors and triumphs of palæontology were now transferred to france. we have seen that the year , when lamarck and geoffroy saint-hilaire were appointed to fill the new zoölogical chairs, and the latter had in called cuvier from normandy to paris, was a time of renascence of the natural sciences in france. cuvier began a course of lectures on comparative anatomy at the museum of natural history. he was more familiar than any one else in france with the progress in natural science in germany, and had felt the stimulus arising from this source; besides, as blainville stated, he was also impelled by the questions boldly raised by faujas in his geological lectures, who was somewhat of the school of buffon. cuvier, moreover, had at his disposition the collection of skeletons of the museum, which was frequently increased by those of the animals which died in the menagerie. with his knowledge of comparative anatomy, of which, after vicq-d'azyr, he was the chief founder, and with the gypsum quarry of montmartre, that rich cemetery of tertiary mammals, to draw from, he had the whole field before him, and rapidly built up his own vast reputation and thus added to the glory of france. his first contribution to palæontology[ ] appeared in , in which he announced his intention of publishing an extended work on fossil bones of quadrupeds, to restore the skeletons and to compare them with those now living, and to determine their relations and differences; but, says blainville, in the list of thirty or forty species which he enumerates in his tableau, none was apparently discovered by him, unless it was the species of "dog" of montmartre, which he afterward referred to his new genera palæotherium and anaplotherium. in (le  brumaire, an ix.) he published, by order of the institut, the programme of a work on fossil quadrupeds, with an increased number of species; but, as blainville states, "it was not until , and in tome iii. of the _annales du muséum_, namely, more than three years after his programme, that he began his publications by fragments and without any order, while these publications lasted more than eight years before they were collected into a general work"; this "_corps d'ouvrage_" being the _ossemens fossiles_, which was issued in in four quarto volumes, with an atlas of plates. it is with much interest, then, that we turn to cuvier's great work, which brought him such immediate and widespread fame, in order to see how he treated his subject. his general views are contained in the preliminary remarks in his well-known "essay on the theory of the earth" ( ), which was followed in by his _discours sur les révolutions de la surface du globe_. it was written in a more attractive and vigorous style than the writings of lamarck, more elegant, concise, and with less repetition, but it is destitute of the philosophic grasp, and is not the work of a profound thinker, but rather of a man of talent who was an industrious collector and accurate describer of fossil bones, of a high order to be sure, but analytical rather than synthetical, of one knowing well the value of carefully ascertained and demonstrated facts, but too cautious, if he was by nature able to do so, to speculate on what may have seemed to him too few facts. it is also the work of one who fell in with the current views of the time as to the general bearing of his discoveries on philosophy and theology, believing as he did in the universality of the noachian deluge. like lamarck, cuvier independently made use of the comparative method, the foundation method in palæontology; and cuvier's well-known "law of correlation of structures," so well exemplified in the vertebrates, was a fresh, new contribution to philosophical biology. in his _discours_, speaking of the difficulty of determining the bones of fossil quadrupeds, as compared with fossil shells or the remains of fishes, he remarks:[ ] "happily comparative anatomy possessed a principle which, well developed, was capable of overcoming every difficulty; it was that of the correlation of forms in organic beings, by means of which each kind of organism can with exactitude be recognized by every fragment of each of its parts.--every organized being," he adds, "forms an entire system, unique and closed, whose organs mutually correspond, and concur in the same definite action by a reciprocal reaction. hence none of these parts can change without the other being also modified, and consequently each of them, taken separately, indicates and produces (_donne_) all the others. "a claw, a shoulder-blade, a condyle, a leg or arm-bone, or any other bone separately considered, enables us to discover the kind of teeth to which they have belonged; so also reciprocally we may determine the form of the other bones from the teeth. thus, commencing our investigation by a careful survey of any one bone by itself, a person who is sufficiently master of the laws of organic structure can reconstruct the entire animal. the smallest facet of bone, the smallest apophysis, has a determinate character, relative to the class, the order, the genus, and the species to which it belongs, so that even when one has only the extremity of a well-preserved bone, he can, with careful examination, assisted by analogy and exact comparison, determine all these things as surely as if he had before him the entire animal." cuvier adds that he has enjoyed every kind of advantage for such investigations owing to his fortunate situation in the museum of natural history, and that by assiduous researches for nearly thirty years[ ] he has collected skeletons of all the genera and sub-genera of quadrupeds, with those of many species in certain genera, and several individuals of certain species. with such means it was easy for him to multiply his comparisons, and to verify in all their details the applications of his laws. such is the famous law of correlation of parts, of cuvier. it could be easily understood by the layman, and its enunciation added vastly to the popular reputation and prestige of the young science of comparative anatomy.[ ] in his time, and applied to the forms occurring in the paris basin, it was a most valuable, ingenious, and yet obvious method, and even now is the principal rule the palæontologist follows in identifying fragments of fossils of any class. but it has its limitations, and it goes without saying that the more complete the fossil skeleton of a vertebrate, or the remains of an arthropod, the more complete will be our conception of the form of the extinct organism. it may be misleading in the numerous cases of convergence and of generalized forms which now abound in our palæontological collections. we can well understand how guarded one must be in working out the restorations of dinosaurs and fossil birds, of the permian and triassic theromorphs, and the tertiary creodonts as compared with existing carnivora. as the late o. c. marsh[ ] observed: "we know to-day that unknown extinct animals cannot be restored from a single tooth or claw unless they are very similar to forms already known. had cuvier himself applied his methods to many forms from the early tertiary or older formations he would have failed. if, for instance, he had had before him the disconnected fragments of an eocene tillodont he would undoubtedly have referred a molar tooth to one of his pachyderms, an incisor tooth to a rodent, and a claw bone to a carnivore. the tooth of a hesperornis would have given him no possible hint of the rest of the skeleton, nor its swimming feet the slightest clue to the ostrich-like sternum or skull. and yet the earnest belief in his own methods led cuvier to some of his most important discoveries." let us now examine from cuvier's own words in his _discours_, not relying on the statements of his expositors or followers, just what he taught notwithstanding the clear utterances of his older colleague, lamarck, whose views he set aside and either ignored or ridiculed.[ ] ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ he at the outset affirms that nature has, like mankind, also had her intestine wars, and that "the surface of the globe has been much convulsed by successive revolutions and various catastrophes." as first proof of the revolutions on the surface of the earth he instances fossil shells, which in the lowest and most level parts of the earth are "almost everywhere in such a perfect state of preservation that even the smallest of them retain their most delicate parts, their sharpest ridges, and their finest and tenderest processes." "we are therefore forcibly led to believe not only that the sea has at one period or another covered all our plains, but that it must have remained there for a long time and in a state of tranquillity, which circumstance was necessary for the formation of deposits so extensive, so thick, in part so solid, and filled with the exuviæ of aquatic animals." but the traces of revolutions become still more marked when we ascend a little higher and approach nearer to the foot of the great mountain chains. hence the strata are variously inclined, and at times vertical, contain shells differing specifically from those of beds on the plains below, and are covered by horizontal later beds. thus the sea, previous to the formation of the horizontal strata, had formed others, which by some means have been broken, lifted up, and overturned in a thousand ways. there had therefore been also at least one change in the basin of that sea which preceded ours; it had also experienced at least one revolution. he then gives proofs that such revolutions have been numerous. "thus the great catastrophes which have produced revolutions in the basins of the sea were preceded, accompanied, and followed by changes in the nature of the fluid and of the substances which it held in solution, and when the surface of the seas came to be divided by islands and projecting ridges, different changes took place in every separate basin." we now come to the cuvierian doctrine _par excellence_, one in which he radically differs from lamarck's views as to the genetic relations between the organisms of successive strata. "amid these changes of the general fluid it must have been almost impossible for the same kind of animals to continue to live, nor did they do so in fact. their species, and even their genera, change with the strata, and although the same species occasionally recur at small distances, it is generally the case that the shells of the ancient strata have forms peculiar to themselves; that they gradually disappear till they are not to be seen at all in the recent strata, still less in the existing seas, in which, indeed, we never discover their corresponding species, and where several even of their genera are not to be found; that, on the contrary, the shells of the recent strata resemble, as regards the genus, those which still exist in the sea, and that in the last formed and loosest of these strata there are some species which the eye of the most expert naturalists cannot distinguish from those which at present inhabit the ocean. "in animal nature, therefore, there has been a succession of changes corresponding to those which have taken place in the chemical nature of the fluid; and when the sea last receded from our continent its inhabitants were not very different from those which it still continues to support." he then refers to successive irruptions and retreats of the sea, "the final result of which, however, has been a universal depression of the level of the sea." "these repeated irruptions and retreats of the sea have neither been slow nor gradual; most of the catastrophes which have occasioned them have been sudden." he then adds his proofs of the occurrence of revolutions before the existence of living beings. like lamarck, cuvier was a wernerian, and in speaking of the older or primitive crystalline rocks which contain no vestige of fossils, he accepted the view of the german theorist in geology, that granites forming the axis of mountain chains were formed in a fluid. we must give cuvier the credit of fully appreciating the value of fossils as being what he calls "historical documents," also for appreciating the fact that there were a number of revolutions marking either the incoming or end of a geological period; but as he failed to perceive the unity of organization in organic beings, and their genetic relationship, as had been indicated by lamarck and by geoffroy st. hilaire, so in geological history he did not grasp, as did lamarck, the vast extent of geological time, and the general uninterrupted continuity of geological events. he was analytic, thoroughly believing in the importance of confining himself to the discovery of facts, and, considering the multitude of fantastic hypotheses and suggestions of previous writers of the eighteenth century, this was sound, sensible, and thoroughly scientific. but unfortunately he did not stop here. master of facts concerning the fossil mammals of the paris basin, he also--usually cautious and always a shrewd man of the world--fell into the error of writing his "theory of the world," and of going to the extreme length of imagining universal catastrophes where there are but local ones, a universal noachian deluge when there was none, and of assuming that there were at successive periods thoroughgoing total and sudden extinctions of life, and as sudden recreations. cuvier was a natural leader of men, a ready debater, and a clear, forcible writer, a man of great executive force, but lacking in insight and imagination; he dominated scientific paris and france, he was the law-giver and autocrat of the laboratories of paris, and the views of quiet, thoughtful, profound scholars such as lamarck and geoffroy st. hilaire were disdainfully pushed aside, overborne, and the progress of geological thought was arrested, while, owing to his great prestige, the rising views of the lamarckian school were nipped in the bud. every one, after the appearance of cuvier's great work on fossil mammals and of his _règne animal_, was a cuvierian, and down to the time of lyell and of charles darwin all naturalists, with only here and there an exception, were pronounced cuvierians in biology and geology--catastrophists rather than uniformitarians. we now, with the increase of knowledge of physical and historical geology, of the succession of life on the earth, of the unity of organization pervading that life from monad to man all through the ages from the precambrian to the present age, know that there were vast periods of preparation followed by crises, perhaps geologically brief, when there were widespread changes in physical geography, which reacted on the life-forms, rendering certain ones extinct, and modifying others; but this conception is entirely distinct from the views of cuvier and his school,[ ] which may, in the light of our present knowledge, properly be deemed not only totally inadequate, but childish and fantastic. cuvier cites the view of dolomieu, the well-known geologist and mineralogist ( - ), only, however, to reject it, who went to the extent of supposing that "tides of seven or eight hundred fathoms have carried off from time to time the bottom of the ocean, throwing it up in mountains and hills on the primitive valleys and plains of the continents" (dolomieu in _journal de physique_). cuvier met with objections to his extreme views. in his discourse he thus endeavors to answer "the following objection" which "has already been stated against my conclusions": "why may not the non-existing races of mammiferous land quadrupeds be mere modifications or varieties of those ancient races which we now find in the fossil state, which modifications may have been produced by change of climate and other local circumstances, and since raised to the present excessive differences by the operation of similar causes during a long succession of ages? "this objection may appear strong to those who believe in the indefinite possibility of change of forms in organized bodies, and think that during a succession of ages, and by alternations of habits, all the species may change into each other, or one of them give birth to all the rest. yet to these persons the following answer may be given from their own system: if the species have changed by degrees, as they assume, we ought to find traces of this gradual modification. thus, between the palæotherium and the species of our own days, we should be able to discover some intermediate forms; and yet no such discovery has ever been made. since the bowels of the earth have not preserved monuments of this strange genealogy, we have a right to conclude that the ancient and now extinct species were as permanent in their forms and characters as those which exist at present; or, at least, that the catastrophe which destroyed them did not have sufficient time for the production of the changes that are alleged to have taken place." cuvier thus emphatically rejects all idea that any of the tertiary mammals could have been the ancestral forms of those now existing. "from all these well-established facts, there does not seem to be the smallest foundation for supposing that the new genera which i have discovered or established among extraneous fossils, such as the _palæotherium_, _anaplotherium_, _megalonynx_, _mastodon_, _pterodactylis_, etc., have ever been the sources of any of our present animals, which only differ as far as they are influenced by time or climate. even if it should prove true, which i am far from believing to be the case, that the fossil elephants, rhinoceroses, elks, and bears do not differ further from the present existing species of the same genera than the present races of dogs differ among themselves, this would by no means be a sufficient reason to conclude that they were of the same species; since the races or varieties of dogs have been influenced by the trammels of domestication, which these other animals never did and indeed never could experience."[ ] the extreme views of cuvier as to the frequent renewal and extinction of life were afterward (in ) carried out to an exaggerated extent by d'orbigny, who maintained that the life of the earth must have become extinct and again renewed twenty-seven times. similar views were held by agassiz, who, however, maintained the geological succession of animals and the parallelism between their embryonic development and geological succession, the two foundation stones of the biogenetic law of haeckel. but immediately after the publication of cuvier's _ossemens fossiles_, as early as , von schlotheim, the founder of vegetable palæontology, refused to admit that each set of beds was the result of such a thoroughgoing revolution.[ ] at a later date bronn "demonstrated that certain species indeed really passed from one formation to another, and though stratigraphic boundaries are often barriers confining the persistence of some form, still this is not an absolute rule, since the species in nowise appear in their entirety."[ ] at present the persistence of genera like saccamina, lingula, ceratodus, etc., from one age to another, or even through two or more geological ages, is well known, while _atrypa reticulatus_, a species of world-wide distribution, lived from near the beginning of the upper silurian to the waverly or beginning of the carboniferous age. such were the views of the distinguished founder of vertebrate palæontology. when we compare the _hydrogéologie_ of lamarck with cuvier's _discours_, we see, though some erroneous views, some very fantastic conceptions are held, in common with others of his time, in regard to changes of level of the land and the origin of the crystalline rocks, that it did contain the principles upon which modern palæontology is founded, while those of cuvier are now in the limbo--so densely populated--of exploded, ill-founded theories. our claim that lamarck should share with cuvier the honor of being a founder of palæontology[ ] is substantiated by the philosophic lyell, who as early as , in his _principles of geology_, expresses the same view in the following words: "the labors of cuvier in comparative osteology, and of lamarck in recent and fossil shells, had raised these departments of study to a rank of which they had never previously been deemed susceptible." our distinguished american palæontologist, the late o. c. marsh, takes the same view, and draws the following parallel between the two great french naturalists: "in looking back from this point of view, the philosophical breadth of lamarck's conclusions, in comparison with those of cuvier, is clearly evident. the invertebrates on which lamarck worked offered less striking evidence of change than the various animals investigated by cuvier; yet they led lamarck directly to evolution, while cuvier ignored what was before him on this point, and rejected the proof offered by others. both pursued the same methods, and had an abundance of material on which to work, yet the facts observed induced cuvier to believe in catastrophes, and lamarck in the uniform course of nature. cuvier declared species to be permanent; lamarck, that they were descended from others. both men stand in the first rank in science; but lamarck was the prophetic genius, half a century in advance of his time."[ ] footnotes: [ ] although defrance (born , died in ) aided lamarck in collecting tertiary shells, his earliest palæontological paper (on hipponyx) did not appear until the year . [ ] in a footnote lamarck refers to an unpublished work, which probably formed a part of the _hydrogéologie_, published in the following year. "_voyez à ce sujet mon ouvrage intitulé: de l'influence du mouvement des eaus sur la surface du globe terrestre, et des indices du déplacement continuel du bassin des mers, ainsi que de son transport successif sur les différens points de la surface du globe_" (no date). [ ] it should be stated that the first observer to inaugurate the comparative method was that remarkable forerunner of modern palæontologists, steno the dane, who was for a while a professor at padua. in , in his treatise entitled _de solido intra solidum naturaliter contento_, which lyell translates "on gems, crystals, and organic petrefactions inclosed within solid rocks," he showed, by dissecting a shark from the mediterranean, that certain fossil teeth found in tuscany were also those of some shark. "he had also compared the shells discovered in the italian strata with living species, pointed out their resemblance, and traced the various gradations from shells merely calcined, or which had only lost their animal gluten, to those petrefactions in which there was a perfect substitution of stony matter" (lyell's _principles_, p.  ). about twenty years afterwards, the english philosopher robert hooke, in a discourse on earthquakes, written in , but published posthumously in , was aware that the fossil ammonites, nautili, and many other shells and fossil skeletons found in england, were of different species from any then known; but he doubted whether the species had become extinct, observing that the knowledge of naturalists of all the marine species, especially those inhabiting the deep sea, was very deficient. in some parts of his writings, however, he leans to the opinion that species had been lost. some species, he observes with great sagacity, "are _peculiar to certain places_, and not to be found elsewhere." turtles and such large ammonites as are found in portland seem to have been the productions of hotter countries, and he thought that england once lay under the sea within the torrid zone (lyell's _principles_). gesner the botanist, of zurich, also published in an excellent treatise on petrefactions and the changes of the earth which they testify. he observed that some fossils, "such as ammonites, gryphites, belemnites, and other shells, are either of unknown species or found only in the indian and other distant seas" (lyell's _principles_). geikie estimates very highly guettard's labors in palæontology, saying that "his descriptions and excellent drawings entitle him to rank as the first great leader of the palæontological school of france." he published many long and elaborate memoirs containing brief descriptions, but without specific names, and figured some hundreds of fossil shells. he was the first to recognize trilobites (illænus) in the silurian slates of angers, in a memoir published in . some of his generic names, says geikie, "have passed into the languages of modern palæontology," and one of the genera of chalk sponges which he described has been named after him, _guettardia_. in his memoir "on the accidents that have befallen fossil shells compared with those which are found to happen to shells now living in the sea" (trans. acad. roy. sciences, , pp.  , , ) he shows that the beds of fossil shells on the land present the closest possible analogy to the flow of the present sea, so that it becomes impossible to doubt that the accidents, such as broken and worn shells, which have affected the fossil organisms, arose from precisely the same causes as those of exactly the same nature that still befall their successors on the existing ocean bottom. on the other hand, geikie observes that it must be acknowledged "that guettard does not seem to have had any clear ideas of the sequence of formations and of geological structures." [ ] scheuchzer's "complaint and vindication of the fishes" (_piscium querelae et vindiciae_, germany, ), "a work of zoölogical merit, in which he gave some good plates and descriptions of fossil fish" (lyell). gesner's treatise on petrefactions preceded lamarck's work in this direction, as did brander's _fossillia hantoniensia_, published in , which contained "excellent figures of fossil shells from the more modern (or eocene) marine strata of hampshire. in his opinion fossil animals and testacea were, for the most part, of unknown species, and of such as were known the living analogues now belonged to southern latitudes" (lyell's _principles_, eighth edition, p.  ). [ ] _annales du muséum d'histoire naturelle_, vi., , pp.  - . [ ] _recueil de planches des coquilles fossiles des environs de paris_ (paris, ). there are added two plates of fossil fresh-water shells (twenty-one species of limnæa, etc.) by brard, with sixty-two figures. [ ] _cuvier et geoffroy saint-hilaire. biographies scientifiques_, par ducrotay de blainville (paris, , p.  ). [ ] "mémoire sur des os fossiles découverts auprès de la ville d'aix en provence" (mém. acad. sc., paris, , pp.  - ). [ ] "sur un os d'une grosseur énorme qu'on a trouvé dans une couche de glaise au milieu de paris; et en général sur les ossemens fossiles qui ont appartenu à de grands animaux" (_journal de physique_, tome xvii., . pp.  - ). lamanon also, in , published in the same _journal_ an article on the nature and position of the bones found at aix en provence; and in another article on the fossil bones belonging to gigantic animals. [ ] hollmann had still earlier published a paper entitled _de corporum marinorum, aliorumque peregrinorum in terra continente origine_ (_commentarii soc. goettingen._, tom. iii., , pp.  - ). [ ] _novi commentarii soc. sc. goettingensis_, tom. ii., _commentat._, tom. i. [ ] his first palæontological article appears to have been one entitled _beiträge zur naturgeschichte der vorwelt_ (lichtenberg, _voigt's magaz._, bd. vi., s.  , , pp.  - ). i have been unable to ascertain in which of his publications he describes and names the cave-bear. [ ] _specimen archæologia telluris terrarumque imprimis hannoveranæ_, pts. i., ii. _cum  tabl. aen.  maj._ gottingæ, . [ ] faujas saint-fond wrote articles on fossil bones ( ); on fossil plants both of france ( ) and of monte bolca ( ); on a fish from nanterre ( ) and a fossil turtle ( ); on two species of fossil ox, whose skulls were found in germany, france, and england ( ), and on an elephant's tusk found in the volcanic tufa of darbres ( ); on the fossil shells of mayence ( ); and on a new genus (_clotho_) of bivalve shells. [ ] _sur les ossemens qui se trouvent dans le gyps de montmartre_ (_bulletin des sciences pour la société philomatique_, tomes , , , pp.  - ). [ ] the following account is translated from the fourth edition of the _ossemens fossiles_, vol.  ., , also the sixth edition of the _discours_, separately published in . it does not differ materially from the first edition of the _essay on the theory of the earth_, translated by jameson, and republished in new york, with additions by samuel l. mitchell, in . [ ] in the first edition of the _théorie_ he says fifteen years, writing in . in the later edition he changed the number of years to thirty. [ ] de blainville is inclined to make light of cuvier's law and of his assumptions; and in his somewhat cynical, depreciatory way, says: "thus for the thirty years during which appeared the works of m. g. cuvier on fossil bones, under the most favorable circumstances, in a kind of renascence of the science of organization of animals, then almost effaced in france, aided by the richest osteological collections which then existed in europe, m. g. cuvier passed an active and a comparatively long life, in a region abounding in fossil bones, without having established any other principle in osteology than a witticism which he had been unable for a moment to take seriously himself, because he had not yet investigated or sufficiently studied the science of organization, which i even doubt, to speak frankly, if he ever did. otherwise, he would himself soon have perceived the falsity of his assertion that a single facet of a bone was sufficient to reconstruct a skeleton from the observation that everything is harmoniously correlated in an animal. it is a great thing if the memory, aided by a strong imagination, can thus pass from a bone to the entire skeleton, even in an animal well known and studied even to satiety; but for an unknown animal, there is no one except a man but slightly acquainted with the anatomy of animals who could pretend to do it. it is not true anatomists like hunter, camper, pallas, vicq-d'azyr, blumenbach, soemmering, and meckel who would be so presuming, and m. g. cuvier would have been himself much embarrassed if he had been taken at his word, and besides it is this assertion which will remain formulated in the mouths of the ignorant, and which has already made many persons believe that it is possible to answer the most difficult and often insoluble problems in palæontology, without having made any preliminary study, with the aid of dividers, and, on the other hand, discouraging the blumenbachs and soemmerings from giving their attention to this kind of work." huxley has, _inter alia_, put the case in a somewhat similar way, to show that the law should at least be applied with much caution to unknown forms: "cuvier, in the _discours sur les révolutions de la surface du globe_, strangely credits himself, and has ever since been credited by others, with the invention of a new method of palæontological research. but if you will turn to the _recherches sur les ossemens fossiles_, and watch cuvier not speculating, but working, you will find that his method is neither more nor less than that of steno. if he was able to make his famous prophecy from the jaw which lay upon the surface of a block of stone to the pelvis which lay hidden in it, it was not because either he or any one else knew, or knows, why a certain form of jaw is, as a rule, constantly accompanied by the presence of marsupial bones, but simply because experience has shown that these two structures are coördinated" (_science and hebrew tradition. rise and progress of paleontology_ , p.  ). [ ] _history and methods of paleontological discovery_ ( ). [ ] the following statement of cuvier's views is taken from jameson's translation of the first _essay on the theory of the earth_, "which formed the introduction to his _recherches sur les ossemens fossiles_," the first edition of which appeared in , or ten years after the publication of the _hydrogéologie_. the original i have not seen, but i have compared jameson's translation with the sixth edition of the _discours_ ( ). [ ] cuvier, in speaking of these revolutions, "which have changed the surface of our earth," correctly reasons that they must have excited a more powerful action upon terrestrial quadrupeds than upon marine animals. "as these revolutions," he says, "have consisted chiefly in changes of the bed of the sea, and as the waters must have destroyed all the quadrupeds which they reached if their irruption over the land was general, they must have destroyed the entire class, or, if confined only to certain continents at one time, they must have destroyed at least all the species inhabiting these continents, without having the same effect upon the marine animals. on the other hand, millions of aquatic animals may have been left quite dry, or buried in newly formed strata or thrown violently on the coasts, while their races may have been still preserved in more peaceful parts of the sea, whence they might again propagate and spread after the agitation of the water had ceased." [ ] _discours_, etc. sixth edition. [ ] felix bernard, _the principles of paleontology_, paris, , translated by c. e. brooks, edited by j. m. clark, from th annual report new york state geologist, , pp.  - (p.  ). bernard gives no reference to the work in which schlotheim expressed this opinion. e. v. schlotheim's first work, _flora der vorwelt_, appeared in , entitled _beschreibung merkwürdiger kraüterabdrücke und pflanzenversteinerungen. ein beytrag zur flora der vorvelt._ i abtheil. mit  kpfrn. ^o. gotha, . a later work was _beyträge zur naturgeschichte der versteinerungen in geognostischer hinsicht_ (_denkschrift d. k. academie d. wissenschaften zu münchen für den jahren und _. taf. münchen, ). he was followed in germany by sternberg (_versuch einer geognostischbotanischen darstellung der flora der vorvelt._ - . . leipzig, - ); and in france by a. t. brongniart, - (_histoire des végétaux fossiles_, ). these were the pioneers in palæophytology. [ ] bernard's _history and methods of paleontological discovery_ ( ), p.  . [ ] in his valuable and comprehensive _geschichte der geologie und paläontologie_ ( ), prof. k. von zittel, while referring to lamarck's works on the tertiary shells of paris and his _animaux sans vertèbres_, also giving a just and full account of his life, practically gives him the credit of being one of the founders of invertebrate palæontology. he speaks of him as "the reformer and founder of scientific conchology," and states that "he defined with wonderful acuteness the numerous genera and species of invertebrate animals, and created thereby for the ten years following an authoritative foundation." zittel, however, does not mention the _hydrogéologie_. probably so rare a book was overlooked by the eminent german palæontologist. [ ] _history and methods of paleontological discovery_ ( ), p.  . chapter x lamarck's opinions on general physiology and biology lamarck died before the rise of the sciences of morphology, embryology, and cytology. as to palæontology, which he aided in founding, he had but the slightest idea of the geological succession of life-forms, and not an inkling of the biogenetic law or recapitulation theory. little did he know or foresee that the main and strongest support of his own theory was to be this same science of the extinct forms of life. yet it is a matter of interest to know what were his views or opinions on the nature of life; whether he made any suggestions bearing on the doctrine of the unity of nature; whether he was a vitalist or not; and whether he was a follower of haller and of bonnet,[ ] as was cuvier, or pronounced in favor of epigenesis. we know that he was a firm believer in spontaneous generation, and that he conceived that it took place not only in the origination of his primeval germs or _ébauches_, but at all later periods down to the present day. yet lamarck accepted harvey's doctrine, published in , that all living beings arose from germs or eggs.[ ] he must have known of spallanzani's experiments, published in , even if he had not read the writings of treviranus ( - ), both of whom had experimentally disproved the theory of the spontaneous generation of animalcules in putrid infusions, showing that the lowest organisms develop only from germs. the eighteenth century, though one of great intellectual activity, was, however, as regards cosmology, geology, general physiology or biology, a period of groping in the dim twilight, when the whole truth or even a part of it was beyond the reach of the greatest geniuses, and they could only seize on half-truths. lamarck, both a practical botanist, systematic zoölogist, and synthetic philosopher, had done his best work before the rise of the experimental and inductive methods, when direct observation and experiments had begun to take the place of vague _à priori_ thinking and reasoning, so that he labored under a disadvantage due largely to the age in which he lived. only the closing years of the century witnessed the rise of the experimental methods in physics and chemistry, owing to the brilliant work of priestley and of lavoisier. the foundations of general physiology had been laid by haller,[ ] those of embryology to a partial extent by wolff,[ ] von baer's work not appearing until , the year in which lamarck died. _spontaneous generation._--lamarck's views on spontaneous generation are stated in his _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_ ( ). he begins by referring to his statement in a previous work[ ] that life may be suspended for a time and then go on again. "here i would remark it (life) can be produced (_préparée_) both by an organic act and by nature herself, without any act of this kind, in such a way that certain bodies without possessing life can be prepared to receive it, by an impression _which indicates in these bodies the first traces of organization_." we will not enter upon an exposition of his views on the nature of sexual generation and of fecundation, the character of his _vapeur subtile_ (_aura vitalis_) which he supposes to take an active part in the act of fertilization, because the notion is quite as objectionable as that of the vital force which he rejects. he goes on to say, however, that we cannot penetrate farther into the wonderful mystery of fecundation, but the opinions he expresses lead to the view that "nature herself imitates her procedures in fecundation in another state of things, without having need of the union or of the products of any preëxistent organization." he proceeds to observe that in the places where his _aura vitalis_, or subtle fluid, is very abundant, as in hot climates or in heated periods, and especially in humid places, life seems to originate and to multiply itself everywhere and with a singular rapidity. "in this high temperature the higher animals and mankind develop and mature more rapidly, and diseases run their courses more swiftly; while on the other hand these conditions are more favorable to the simpler forms of life, for the reason that in them the orgasm and irritability are entirely dependent on external influences, and all plants are in the same case, because heat, moisture, and light complete the conditions necessary to their existence. "because heat is so advantageous to the simplest animals, let us examine whether there is not occasion for believing that it can itself form, with the concourse of favorable circumstances, the first germs of animal life. "_nature necessarily forms generations, spontaneous or direct, at the extremity of each organic kingdom or where the simplest organic bodies occur._" this proposition, he allows, is so far removed from the view generally held, that it will be for a long time, and perhaps always, regarded as one of the errors of the human mind. "i do not," he adds, "ask any one to accord it the least confidence on my word alone. but as surely it will happen, sooner or later, that men on the one hand independent of prejudices even the most widespread, and on the other profound observers of nature, may have a glimpse of this truth, i am very content that we should know that it is of the number of those views which, in spite of the prejudices of my age, i have thought it well to accept." "why," he asks, "should not heat and electricity act on certain matters under favorable conditions and circumstances?" he quotes lavoisier as saying (_chémie_, i., p.  ) "that god in creating light had spread over the world the principle of organization of feeling and of thought"; and lamarck suggests that heat, "this mother of generation, this material soul of organized bodies," may be the chief one of the means which nature directly employs to produce in the appropriate kind of matter an act of arrangement of parts, of a primitive germ of organization, and consequently of vitalization analogous to sexual fecundation. "not only the direct formation of the simplest living beings could have taken place, as i shall attempt to demonstrate, but the following considerations prove that it is necessary that such germ-formations should be effected and be repeated under favorable conditions, without which the state of things which we observe could neither exist nor subsist." his argument is that in the lower polyps (the protozoa) there is no sexual reproduction, no eggs. but they perish (as he strangely thought, without apparently attempting to verify his belief) in the winter. how, he asks, can they reappear? is it not more likely that these simple organisms are themselves regenerated? after much verbiage and repetition, he concludes: "we may conceive that the simplest organisms can arise from a minute mass of substances which possess the following conditions--namely, which will have solid parts in a state nearest the fluid conditions, consequently having the greatest suppleness and only sufficient consistence to be susceptible of constituting the parts contained in it. such is the condition of the most gelatinous organized bodies. "through such a mass of substances the subtile and expansive fluids spread, and, always in motion in the milieu environing it, unceasingly penetrate it and likewise dissipate it, arranging while traversing this mass the internal disposition of its parts, and rendering it suitable to continually absorb and to exhale the other environing fluids which are able to penetrate into its interior, and which are susceptible of being contained. "these other fluids, which are water charged with dissolved (_dissous_) gas, or with other tenuous substances, the atmospheric air, which contains water, etc., i call containable fluids, to distinguish them from subtile fluids, such as caloric, electricity, etc., which no known bodies are believed to contain. "the containable fluids absorbed by the small gelatinous mass in question remain almost motionless in its different parts, because the non-containable subtile fluids which always penetrate there do not permit it. "in this way the uncontainable fluids at first mark out the first traces of the simplest organization, and consequently the containable fluids by their movements and their other influences develop it, and with time and all the favorable circumstances complete it." this is certainly a sufficiently vague and unsatisfactory theory of spontaneous generation. this sort of guess-work and hypothetical reasoning is not entirely confined to lamarck's time. have we not, even a century later, examples among some of our biologists, and very eminent ones, of whole volumes of _à priori_ theorizing and reasoning, with scarcely a single new fact to serve as a foundation? and yet this is an age of laboratories, of experimentations and of trained observers. the best of us indulge in far-fetched hypotheses, such as pangenesis, panmixia, the existence of determinants, and if this be so should we not excuse lamarck, who gave so many years to close observation in systematic botany and zoölogy, for his flights into the empyrean of subtle fluids, containable and uncontainable, and for his invocation of an _aura vitalis_, at a time when the world of demonstrated facts in modern biology was undiscovered and its existence unsuspected? _the preëxistence of germs and the encasement theory._--lamarck did not believe in bonnet's idea of the "preëxistence of germs." he asks whether there is any foundation for the notion that germs "successively develop in generations, _i.e._ in the multiplication of individuals for the preservation of species," and says: "i am not inclined to believe it if this preëxistence is taken in a general sense; but in limiting it to individuals in which the unfertilized embryos or germs are formed before generation. i then believe that it has some foundation.--they say with good reason," he adds, "that every living being originates from an egg.... but the eggs being the envelope of every kind of germ, they preëxist in the individuals which produce them, before fertilization has vivified them. the seeds of plants (which are vegetable eggs) actually exist in the ovaries of flowers before the fertilization of these ovaries."[ ] from whom did he get this idea that seeds or eggs are envelopes of all sorts of germs? it is not the "evolution" of a single germ, as, for example, an excessively minute but complete chick in the hen's egg, in the sense held by bonnet. who it was he does not mention. he evidently, however, had the swiss biologist in mind, who held that all living things proceed from preëxisting germs.[ ] whatever may have been his views as to the germs in the egg before fertilization, we take it that he believed in the epigenetic development of the plant or animal after the seed or egg was once fertilized.[ ] lamarck did not adopt the encasement theory of swammerdam and of heller. we find nothing in lamarck's writings opposed to epigenesis. the following passage, which bears on this subject, is translated from his _mémoires de physique_ (p.  ), where he contrasts the growth of organic bodies with that of minerals. "the body of this living being not having been formed by _juxtaposition_, as most mineral substances, that is to say, by the external and successive apposition of particles aggregated _en masse_ by attraction, but essentially formed by generation, in its principle, it has then grown by intussusception--namely, by the introduction, the transportation, and the internal apposition of molecules borne along and deposited between its parts; whence have resulted the successive developments of parts which compose the body of this living individual, and from which afterwards also result the repairs which preserve it during a limited time." here, as elsewhere in his various works, lamarck brings out the fact, for the first time stated, that all material things are either non-living or mineral, inorganic; or living, organic. a favorite phrase with him is living bodies, or, as we should say, organisms. he also is the first one to show that minerals increase by juxtaposition, while organisms grow by intussusception. no one would look in his writings for an idea or suggestion of the principle of differentiation of parts or organs as we now understand it, or for the idea of the physiological division of labor; these were reserved for the later periods of embryology and morphology. _origin of the first vital function._--we will now return to the germ. after it had begun spontaneous existence, lamarck proceeds to say: "before the containable fluids absorbed by the small, jelly-like mass in question have been expelled by the new portions of the same fluids which reach there, they can then deposit certain of the contained fluids they carry along, and the movements of the contained fluids may apply these substances to the containing parts of the newly organized microscopic being. in this way originates the first of the vital functions which becomes established in the simplest organism, _i.e._, nutrition. the environing containable fluids are, then, for the living body of very great simplicity, a veritable chyle entirely prepared by nature. "mutilation cannot operate without gradually increasing the consistence of the parts contained within the minute new organism and without extending its dimensions. hence soon arose the second of the vital functions, _growth or internal development_." _first faculty of animal nature._--then gradually as the continuity of this state of things within the same minute living mass in question increases the consistence of its parts enclosed within and extends its dimensions, a vital orgasm, at first very feeble, but becoming progressively more intense, is formed in these enclosed parts and renders them susceptible of _reaction_ against the slight impression of the fluids in motion which they contain, and at the same time renders them capable of contraction and of distention. hence the origin of _animal irritability_ and the basis of feeling, which is developed wherever a nervous fluid, susceptible of locating the effects in one of several special centres, can be formed. "scarcely will the living corpuscle, newly animalized, have received any increase in consistence and in dimensions of the parts contained, when, as the result of the organic movement which it enjoys, it will be subjected to successive changes and losses of its substance. "it will then be obliged to take nourishment not only to obtain any development whatever, but also to preserve its individual existence, because it is necessary that it repair its losses under penalty of its destruction. "but as the individual in question has not yet any special organ for nutrition, it therefore absorbs by the pores of its internal surface the substance adapted for its nourishment. thus the first mode of taking food in a living body so simple can be no other than by absorption or a sort of suction, which is accomplished by the pores of its outer surface. "this is not all; up to the present time the animalized corpuscle we are considering is still only a primitive animalcule because it as yet has no special organ. let us see then how nature will come to furnish it with any primitive special organ, and what will be the organ that nature will form before any others, and which in the simplest animal is the only one constantly found; this is the alimentary canal, the principal organ of digestion common to all except colpodes, vibrios, proteus (amoeba), volvoces, monads, etc. "this digestive canal is," he says--proceeding with his _à priori_ morphology--"a little different from that of this day, produced by contractions of the body, which are stronger in one part of the body than in another, until a little crease is produced on the surface of the body. this furrow or crease will receive the food. insensibly this little furrow by the habit of being filled, and by the so frequent use of its pores, will gradually increase in depth; it will soon assume the form of a pouch or of a tubular cavity with porous walls, a blind sac, or with but a single opening. behold the primitive alimentary canal created by nature, the simplest organ of digestion." in like _à priori_ manner he describes the creation of the faculty of reproduction. the next organ, he says, is that of reproduction due to the regenerative faculty. he describes fission and budding. finally (p.  ) he says: "indeed, we perceive that if the first germs of living bodies are all formed in one day in such great abundance and facility under favorable circumstances, they ought to be, nevertheless, by reason of the antiquity of the causes which make them exist, the most ancient organisms in nature." in he rejected the view once held of a continuous chain of being, the _échelle des êtres_ suggested by locke and by leibnitz, and more fully elaborated by bonnet, from the inorganic to the organic worlds, from minerals to plants, from plants to polyps (our infusoria), polyps to worms, and so on to the higher animals. he, on the contrary, affirms that nature makes leaps, that there is a wide gap between minerals and living bodies, that everything is not gradated and shaded into each other. one reason for this was possibly his strange view, expressed in , that all brute bodies and inorganic matters, even granite, were not formed at the same epoch but at different times, and were derived from organisms.[ ] the mystical doctrine of a vital force was rife in lamarck's time. the chief starting point of the doctrine was due to haller, and, as verworn states, it is a doctrine which has confused all physiology down to the middle of the present century, and even now emerges again here and there in varied form.[ ] lamarck was not a vitalist. life, he says,[ ] is usually supposed to be a particular being or entity; a sort of principle whose nature is unknown, and which possesses living bodies. this notion he denies as absurd, saying that life is a very natural phenomenon, a physical fact; in truth a little complicated in its principles, but not in any sense a particular or special being or entity. he then defines life in the following words: "life is an order and a state of things in the parts of every body possessing it, which permits or renders possible in it the execution of organic movement, and which, so long as it exists, is effectively opposed to death. derange this order and this state of things to the point of preventing the execution of organic movement, or the possibility of its reëstablishment, then you cause death." afterwards, in the _philosophie zoologique_, he modifies this definition, which reads thus: "life, in the parts of a body which possesses it, is an order and a state of things which permit organic movements; and these movements, which constitute active life, result from the action of a stimulating cause which excites them."[ ] for the science of all living bodies lamarck proposed the word "biology," which is so convenient a term at the present day. the word first appears in the preface to the _hydrogéologie_, published in . it is worthy of note that in the same year the same word was proposed for the same science by g. r. treviranus as the title of a work, _biologie, der philosophie der lebenden natur_, published in - (vols. i.-vi., - ), the first volume appearing in . in the second part of the _philosophie zoologique_ he considers the physical causes of life, and in the introduction he defines nature as the _ensemble_ of objects which comprise: ( ) all existing physical bodies; ( ) the general and special laws which regulate the changes of condition and situation of these bodies; ( ) finally, the movement everywhere going on among them resulting in the wonderful order of things in nature. to regard nature as eternal, and consequently as having existed from all time, is baseless and unreasonable. he prefers to think that nature is only a result, "whence, i suppose, and am glad to admit, a first cause, in a word, a supreme power which has given existence to nature, which has made it as a whole what it is." as to the source of life in bodies endowed with it, he considers it a problem more difficult than to determine the course of the stars in space, or the size, masses, and movements of the planets belonging to our solar system; but, however formidable the problem, the difficulties are not insurmountable, as the phenomena are purely physical--_i.e._, essentially resulting from acts of organization. after defining life, in the third chapter (beginning vol. ii.) he treats of the exciting cause of organic movements. this exciting cause is foreign to the body which it vivifies, and does not perish, like the latter. "this cause resides in invisible, subtile, expansive, ever-active fluids which penetrate or are incessantly developed in the bodies which they animate." these subtile fluids we should in these days regard as the physico-chemical agents, such as heat, light, electricity. what he says in the next two chapters as to the "orgasme" and irritability excited by the before-mentioned exciting cause may be regarded as a crude foreshadowing of the primary properties of protoplasm, now regarded as the physical basis of life--_i.e._, contractility, irritability, and metabolism. in chapter vi. lamarck discusses direct or spontaneous generation in the same way as in . in the following paragraph we have foreshadowed the characteristic qualities of the primeval protoplasmic matter fitted to receive the first traces of organization and life: "every mass of substance homogeneous in appearance, of a gelatinous or mucilaginous consistence, whose parts, coherent among themselves, will be in the state nearest fluidity, but will have only a consistence sufficient to constitute containing parts, will be the body most fitted to receive the first traces of organization and life." in the third part of the _philosophie zoologique_ lamarck considers the physical causes of feeling--_i.e._, those which form the productive force of actions, and those giving rise to intelligent acts. after describing the nervous system and its functions, he discusses the nervous fluid. his physiological views are based on those of richerand's _physiologie_, which he at times quotes. lamarck's thoughts on the nature of the nervous fluid (_recherches sur le fluide nerveux_) are curious and illustrative of the gropings after the truth of his age. he claims that the supposed nervous fluid has much analogy to the electric, that it is the _feu éthéré_ "animalized by the circumstances under which it occurs." in his _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_ ( ) he states that, as the result of changes continually undergone by the principal fluids of an animal, there is continually set free in a state of _feu fixé_ a special fluid, which at the instant of its disengagement occurs in the expansive state of the caloric, then becomes gradually rarefied, and insensibly arrives at the state of an extremely subtile fluid which then passes along the smallest nervous ramifications in the substance of the nerve, which is a very good conductor for it. on its side the brain sends back the subtile fluid in question along the nerves to the different organs. in the same work ( ) lamarck defines thought as a physical act taking place in the brain. "this act of thinking gives rise to different displacements of the subtile nervous fluid and to different accumulations of this fluid in the parts of the brain where the ideas have been traced." there result from the flow of the fluid on the conserved impressions of ideas, special movements which portions of this fluid acquire with each impression, which give rise to compounds by their union producing new impressions on the delicate organ which receives them, and which constitute abstract ideas of all kinds, also the different acts of thought. all the acts which constitute thought are the comparisons of ideas, both simple and complex, and the results of these comparisons are judgments. he then discusses the influence of the nervous fluid on the muscles, and also its influence considered as the cause of feeling (_sentiment_). finally he concludes that _feu fixé_, caloric, the nervous fluid, and the electric fluid "are only one and the same substance occurring in different states." footnotes: [ ] charles bonnet ( - ), a swiss naturalist, is famous for his work on aphides and their parthenogenetic generation, on the mode of reproduction in the polyzoa, and on the respiration of insects. after the age of thirty-four, when his eyesight became impaired, he began his premature speculations, which did not add to his reputation. judging, however, by an extract from his writings by d'archiac (_introduction à l'Étude de la paléontologie stratigraphique_, ii., p.  ), he had sound ideas on the theory of descent, claiming that "la diversité et la multitude des conjunctions, peut-être même la diversité des climats et des nourritures, ont donné naissance à de nouvelles espèces ou à des individus intermédiaires" (_oeuvres d'hist. nat. et de philosophie_, in- vo, p.  , ). [ ] see his remark: "_on a dit avec raison que tout ce qui a vie provient d'un auf_" (_mémoires de physique_, etc., , p.  ). he appears, however, to have made the simplest organisms exceptions to this doctrine. [ ] _elementa physiologiae corporis humani_, iv. lausanne, . [ ] _theoria generationis_, . [ ] _mémoires de physique_, ( ), p.  . [ ] _mémoires de physique_, etc. ( ), p.  . [ ] huxley's "evolution in biology" (_darwiniana_, p.  ), where be quotes from bonnet's statements, which "bear no small resemblance to what is understood by evolution at the present day." [ ] buffon did not accept bonnet's theory of preëxistent germs, but he assumed the existence of "_germes accumulés_" which reproduced parts or organs, and for the production of organisms he imagined "_molécules organiques_." réaumur had previously ( ) conjectured that there were "_germes cachés et accumulés_" to account for the regeneration of the limbs of the crayfish. the ideas of bonnet on germs are stated in his _mémoires sur les salamandres_ ( - - ) and in his _considérations sur les corps organisés_ ( .) [ ] _mémoires de physique_, etc., pp.  , , - . yet the idea of a sort of continuity between the inorganic and the organic world is expressed by verworn. [ ] _general physiology_ (english trans., , p.  ). in france vitalism was founded by bordeu ( - ), developed further by barthez ( - ) and chaussier ( - ), and formulated most distinctly by louis dumas ( - ). later vitalists gave it a thoroughly mystical aspect, distinguishing several varieties, such as the _nisus formativus_ or formative effort, to explain the forms of organisms, accounting for the fact that from the egg of a bird, a bird and no other species always develops (_l. c._, p.  ). [ ] _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_ ( ), p.  . the same view was expressed in _mémoires de physique_ ( ), pp.  - , . [ ] here might be quoted for comparison other famous definitions of life: "life is the sum of the functions by which death is resisted."--bichat. "life is the result of organization."--(?) "life is the principle of individuation."--coleridge ex. schelling. "life is the twofold internal movement of composition and decomposition, at once general and continuous."--de blainville, who wisely added that there are "two fundamental and correlative conditions inseparable from the living being--an organism and a medium." "life is the continuous adjustment of internal relations to external relations."--herbert spencer. chapter xi lamarck as a botanist during the century preceding the time of lamarck, botany had not flourished in france with the vigor shown in other countries. lamarck himself frankly stated in his address to the committee of public instruction of the national convention that the study of plants had been for a century neglected by frenchmen, and that the great progress which it had made during this time was almost entirely due to foreigners. "i am free to say that since the distinguished tournefort the french have remained to some extent inactive in this direction; they have produced almost nothing, unless we except some fragmentary mediocre or unimportant works. on the other hand, linné in sweden, dilwillen in england, haller in switzerland, jacquin in austria, etc., have immortalized themselves by their own works, vastly extending the limit of our knowledge in this interesting part of natural history." what led young lamarck to take up botanical studies, his botanical rambles about paris, and his longer journeys in different parts of france and in other countries, his six years of unremitting labor on his _flore française_, and the immediate fame it brought him, culminating in his election as a member of the french academy, have been already recounted. lamarck was thirty-four when his _flore française_ appeared. it was not preceded, as in the case of most botanical works, by any preliminary papers containing descriptions of new or unknown species, and the three stout octavo volumes appeared together at the same date. the first volume opens with a report on the work made by mm. duhamel and guettard. then follows the _discours préliminaire_, comprising over a hundred pages, while the main body of the work opens with the _principes Élémentaires de botanique_, occupying  pages. the work was a general elementary botany and written in french. before this time botanists had departed from the artificial system of linné, though it was convenient for amateurs in naming their plants. jussieu had proposed his system of natural families, founded on a scientific basis, but naturally more difficult for the use of beginners. to obviate the matter lamarck conceived and proposed the dichotomic method for the easy determination of species. no new species were described, and the work, written in the vernacular, was simply a guide to the indigenous plants of france, beginning with the cryptogams and ending with the flowering plants. a second edition appeared in , and a third, edited and remodelled by a. p. de candolle, and forming six volumes, appeared in - . this was until within a comparatively few years the standard french botany. soon after the publication of his _flore française_ he projected two other works which gave him a still higher position among botanists. his _dictionnaire de botanique_ was published in - , forming eight volumes and five supplementary ones. the first two and part of the third volume were written by lamarck, the remainder by other botanists, who completed it after lamarck had abandoned botanical studies and taken up his zoölogical work. his second great undertaking was _l'illustration des genres_ ( - ), with a supplement by poiret ( ). cuvier speaks thus of these works: "_l'illustration des genres_ is a work especially fitted to enable one to acquire readily an almost complete idea of this beautiful science. the precision of the descriptions and of the definitions of linnæus is maintained, as in the institutions of tournefort, with figures adapted to give body to these abstractions, and to appeal both to the eye and to the mind, and not only are the flowers and fruits represented, but often the entire plant. more than two thousand genera are thus made available for study in a thousand plates in quarto, and at the same time the abridged characters of a vast number of species are given. "the _dictionnaire_ contains more details of the history with careful descriptions, critical researches on their synonymy, and many interesting observations on their uses or on special points of their organizations. the matter is not all original in either of the works, far from it, but the choice of figures is skilfully made, the descriptions are drawn from the best authors, and there are a large number which relate to species and also some genera previously unknown." lamarck himself says that after the publication of his _flore française_, his zeal for work increasing, and after travelling by order of the government in different parts of europe, he undertook on a vast scale a general work on botany. "this work comprised two distinct features. in the first (_le dictionnaire_), which made a part of the new encyclopedia, the citizen lamarck treats of philosophical botany, also giving the complete description of all the genera and species known. an immense work from the labor it cost, and truly original in its execution.... the second treatise, entitled _illustration des genres_, presents in the order of the sexual system the figures and the details of all the genera known in botany, and with a concise exposition of the generic characters and of the species known. this work, unique of its kind, already contains six hundred plates executed by the best artists, and will comprise nine hundred. also for more than ten years the citizen lamarck has employed in paris a great number of artists. moreover, he has kept running three separate presses for different works, all relating to natural history." cuvier in his _Éloge_ also adds: "it is astonishing that m. de lamarck, who hitherto had been studying botany as an amateur, was able so rapidly to qualify himself to produce so extensive a work, in which the rarest plants were described. it is because, from the moment he undertook it, with all the enthusiasm of his nature, he collected them from the gardens and examined them in all the available herbaria; passing the days at the houses of the botanists he knew, but chiefly at the home of m. de jussieu, in that home where for more than a century a scientific hospitality welcomed with equal kindness every one who was interested in the delightful study of botany. when any one reached paris with plants he might be sure that the first one who should visit him would be m. de lamarck; this eager interest was the means of his receiving one of the most valuable presents he could have desired. the celebrated traveller sonnerat, having returned in for the second time from the indies, with very rich collections of natural history, imagined that every one who cultivated this science would flock to him; it was not at pondichéry or in the moluccas that he had conceived an idea of the vortex which too often in this capital draws the savants as well as men of the world; no one came but m. de lamarck, and sonnerat, in his chagrin, gave him the magnificent collection of plants which he had brought. he profited also by that of commerson, and by those which had been accumulated by m. de jussieu, and which were generously opened to him." these works were evidently planned and carried out on a broad and comprehensive scale, with originality of treatment, and they were most useful and widely used. lamarck's original special botanical papers were numerous. they were mostly descriptive of new species and genera, but some were much broader in scope and were published over a period of ten years, from to , and appeared in the _journal d'histoire naturelle_, which he founded, and in the _mémoires_ of the academy of sciences. he discussed the shape or aspect of the plants characteristic of certain countries, while his last botanical effort was on the sensibility of plants ( ). although not in the front rank of botanists, compared with linné, jussieu, de candolle, and others, yet during the twenty-six years of his botanical career it may safely be said that lamarck gave an immense impetus to botany in france, and fully earned the title of "the french linné." lamarck not only described a number of genera and species of plants, but he attempted a general classification, as cleland states: "in (_hist. de l'acad._) he evinced his appreciation of the necessity of natural orders in botany by an attempt at the classification of plants, interesting though crude, and falling immeasurably short of the system which grew in the hands of his intimate friend jussieu."--_encyc. brit._, art. lamarck. a genus of tropical plants of the group _solanaceæ_ was named _markea_ by richard, in honor of lamarck, but changed by persoon and poiret to _lamarckea_. the name _lamarckia_ of moench and koeler was proposed for a genus of grasses; it is now _chrysurus_. lamarck's success as a botanist led to more or less intimate relations with buffon. but it appears that the good-will of this great naturalist and courtier for the rising botanist was not wholly disinterested. lamarck owed the humble and poorly paid position of keeper of the herbarium to buffon. bourguin adds, however: "_mais il les dut moins à ses mérites qu'aux petits passions de la science officielle._ the illustrious buffon, who was at the same time a very great lord at court, was jealous of linné. he could not endure having any one compare his brilliant and eloquent word-pictures of animals with the cold and methodical descriptions of the celebrated swedish naturalist. so he attempted to combat him in another field--botany. for this reason he encouraged and pushed lamarck into notice, who, as the popularizer of the system of classification into natural families, seemed to him to oppose the development of the arrangement of linné." lamarck's style was never a highly finished one, and his incipient essays seemed faulty to buffon, who took so much pains to write all his works in elegant and pure french. so he begged the abbé haüy to review the literary form of lamarck's works. here it might be said that lamarck's is the philosophic style; often animated, clear, and pure, it at times, however, becomes prolix and tedious, owing to occasional repetition. but after all it can easily be understood that the discipline of his botanical studies, the friendship manifested for him by buffon, then so influential and popular, the relations lamarck had with jussieu, haüy, and the zoölogists of the jardin du roi, were all important factors in lamarck's success in life, a success not without terrible drawbacks, and to the full fruition of which he did not in his own life attain. chapter xii lamarck the zoÖlogist although there has been and still may be a difference of opinion as to the value and permanency of lamarck's theoretical views, there has never been any lack of appreciation of his labors as a systematic zoölogist. he was undoubtedly the greatest zoölogist of his time. lamarck is the one dominant personage who in the domain of zoölogy filled the interval between linné and cuvier, and in acuteness and sound judgment he at times surpassed cuvier. his was the master mind of the period of systematic zoölogy, which began with linné--the period which, in the history of zoölogy, preceded that of comparative anatomy and morphology. after aristotle, no epoch-making zoölogist arose until linné was born. in england linné was preceded by ray, but binomial nomenclature and the first genuine attempt at the classification of animals dates back to the _systema naturæ_ of linné, the tenth edition of which appeared in . [illustration: portrait of lamarck] the contemporaries of lamarck in biological science, in the eighteenth century, were camper ( - ), spallanzani ( - ), wolff ( - ), hunter ( - ), bichat ( - ), and vicq d'azyr ( - ). these were all anatomists and physiologists, the last-named being the first to propose and use the term "comparative anatomy," while bichat was the founder of histology and pathological anatomy. there was in fact no prominent systematic zoölogist in the interval between linné and lamarck. in france there were only two zoölogists of prominence when lamarck assumed his duties at the museum. these were bruguière the conchologist and olivier the entomologist. in germany hermann was the leading systematic zoölogist. we would not forget the labors of the great german anatomist and physiologist blumenbach, who was also the founder of anthropology; nor the german anatomists tiedemann, bojanus, and carus; nor the embryologist döllinger. but lamarck's method and point of view were of a new order--he was much more than a mere systematist. his work in systematic zoölogy, unlike that of linné, and especially of cuvier, was that of a far higher grade. lamarck, besides his rigid, analytical, thorough, and comprehensive work on the invertebrates, whereby he evolved order and system out of the chaotic mass of forms comprised in the insects and vermes of linné, was animated with conceptions and theories to which his forerunners and contemporaries, geoffroy st. hilaire excepted, were entire strangers. his tabular view of the classes of the animal kingdom was to his mind a genealogical tree; his idea of the animal kingdom anticipated and was akin to that of our day. he compares the animal series to a tree with its numerous branches, rather than to a single chain of being. this series, as he expressly states, began with the monad and ended with man; it began with the simple and ended with the complex, or, as we should now say, it proceeded from the generalized or undifferentiated to the specialized and differentiated. he perceived that many forms had been subjected to what he calls degeneration, or, as we say, modification, and that the progress from the simple to the complex was by no means direct. moreover, fossil animals were, according to his views, practically extinct species, and stood in the light of being the ancestors of the members of our existing fauna. in fact, his views, notwithstanding shortcomings and errors in classification naturally due to the limited knowledge of anatomy and development of his time, have been at the end of a century entirely confirmed--a striking testimony to his profound insight, sound judgment, and philosophic breadth. the reforms that he brought about in the classification of the invertebrate animals were direct and positive improvements, were adopted by cuvier in his _règne animal_, and have never been set aside. we owe to him the foundation and definition of the classes of infusoria, annelida, arachnida, and crustacea, the two latter groups being separated from the insects. he also showed the distinctness of echinoderms from polyps, thus anticipating leuckart, who established the phylum of coelenterata nearly half a century later. his special work was the classification of the great group of mollusca, which he regarded as a class. when in our boyhood days we attempted to arrange our shells, we were taught to use the lamarckian system, that of linné having been discarded many years previous. the great reforms in the classification of shells are evidenced by the numerous manuals of conchology based on the works of lamarck. we used to hear much of the lamarckian genera of shells, and lamarck was the first to perceive the necessity of breaking up into smaller categories the few genera of linné, which now are regarded as families. he may be said to have had a wonderfully good eye for genera. all his generic divisions were at once accepted, since they were based on valid characters. though not a comparative anatomist, he at once perceived the value of a knowledge of the internal structure of animals, and made effective use of the discoveries of cuvier and of his predecessors--in fact, basing his system of classification on the organs of respiration, circulation, and the nervous system. he intimated that specific characters vary most, and that the peripheral parts of the body, as the shell, outer protective structures, the limbs, mouth-parts, antennæ, etc., are first affected by the causes which produce variation, while he distinctly states that it requires a longer time for variations to take place in the internal organs. on the latter he relied in defining his classes. one is curious to know how lamarck viewed the question of species. this is discussed at length by him in his general essays, which are reproduced farther on in this biography, but his definition of what a species is far surpasses in breadth and terseness, and better satisfies the views now prevailing, than that of any other author. his definition of a species is as follows: "every collection of similar individuals, perpetuated by generation in the same condition, so long as the circumstances of their situation do not change enough to produce variations in their habits, character, and form." lamarck's rare skill, thoroughness, and acuteness as an observer, combined with great breadth of view, were also supplemented by the advantages arising from residence in paris, and his connection with the museum of natural history. paris was in the opening years of the nineteenth century the chief centre of biological science. france having convalesced from the intestinal disorders of the revolution, and, as the result of her foreign wars, adding to her territory and power, had begun with the strength of a young giant to send out those splendid exploring expeditions which gathered in collections in natural history from all parts of the known or accessible world, and poured them, as it were, into the laps of the professors of the jardin des plantes. the shelves and cases of the galleries fairly groaned with the weight of the zoölogical riches which crowded them. from the year to the french government showed the greatest activity in sending out exploring expeditions to egypt, africa, and the tropics.[ ] the zoölogists who explored egypt were geoffroy st. hilaire and savigny. those who visited the east, the south seas, the east indian archipelago, and other regions were bruguière, olivier, bory de st. vincent, péron, lesueur, quoy, gaimard, le vaillant, edoux, and souleyet. the natural result was the enormous collections of the jardin des plantes, and consequently enlarged views regarding the number and distribution of species, and their relation to their environment. in paris, about the time of lamarck's death, flourished also savigny, who published his immortal works on the morphology of arthropods and of ascidians; and straus-durckheim, whose splendidly illustrated volumes on the anatomy of the cockchafer and of the cat will never cease to be of value; and É. geoffroy st. hilaire, whose elaborate and classical works on vertebrate morphology, embryology, and comparative anatomy added so much to the prestige of french science. we may be sure that lamarck did his own work without help from others, and gave full credit to those who, like defrance or bruguière, aided or immediately preceded him. he probably was lacking in executive force, or in the art which cuvier knew so well to practise, of enlisting young men to do the drudgery or render material aid, and then, in some cases, neglecting to give them proper credit. the first memoir or paper published on a zoölogical subject by lamarck was a modest one on shells, which appeared in in the _journal d'histoire naturelle_, the editors of which were lamarck, bruguière, olivier, haüy, and pelletier. this paper was a review of an excellent memoir by bruguière, who preceded lamarck in the work of dismemberment of the linnæan genera. his next paper was on four new species of helix. to this _journal_, of which only two volumes were published, cuvier contributed his first paper--namely, on some new species of "cloportes" (oniscus, a genus of terrestrial crustacea or "pill-bugs"); this was followed by his second memoir on the anatomy of the limpet, his next article being descriptions of two species of flies from his collection of insects.[ ] seven years later lamarck gave some account of the genera of cuttlefishes. his first general memoir was a prodromus of a new classification of shells ( ). meanwhile lamarck's knowledge of shells and corals was utilized by cuvier in his _tableau élémentaire_, published in , who acknowledges in the preface that in the exposition of the genera of shells he has been powerfully seconded, while he indicated to him (cuvier) a part of the subgenera of corals and alcyonarians, and adds, "i have received great aid from the examination of his collection." also he acknowledges that he had been greatly aided (_puissamment secondé_) by lamarck, who had even indicated the most of the subdivisions established in his _tableau élémentaire_ for the insects (blainville, _l. c._, p.  ), and he also accepted his genera of cuttlefishes. after this lamarck judiciously refrained from publishing descriptions of new species, and other fragmentary labors, and for some ten years from the date of publication of his first zoölogical article reserved his strength and elaborated his first general zoölogical work, a thick octavo volume of  pages, entitled _système des animaux sans vertèbres_, which appeared in . linné had divided all the animals below the vertebrates into two classes only, the insecta and vermes, the insects comprising the present classes of insects, myriapoda, arachnida, and crustacea; the vermes embracing all the other invertebrate animals, from the molluscs to the monads. lamarck perceived the need of reform, of bringing order out of the chaotic mass of animal forms, and he says (p.  ) that he has been continually occupied since his attachment to the museum with this reform. he relies for his characters, the fundamental ones, on the organs of respiration, circulation, and on the form of the nervous system. the reasons he gives for his classification are sound and philosophical, and presented with the ease and aplomb of a master of taxonomy. he divided the invertebrates, which cuvier had called animals with white blood, into the seven following classes. we place in a parallel column the classification of cuvier in . _classification of lamarck._ _classification of cuvier._ . mollusca. i. _mollusca._ . crustacea. ii. _insectes et vers._ . arachnides (comprising . insectes. the myriapoda). . vers. . insectes. iii. _zoophytes._ . vers. . echinodermes. . meduses, animaux . radiaires. infusorines, rotifer, vibrio, volvox. . polypes. . zoophytes proprement dits. of these, four were for the first time defined, and the others restricted. it will be noticed that he separates the radiata (_radiaires_) from the polypes. his "radiaires" included the echinoderms (the _vers echinoderms_ of bruguière) and the medusæ (his _radiaires molasses_), the latter forming the discophora and siphonophora of present zoölogists. this is an anticipation of the division by leuckart in of the radiata of cuvier into coelenterata and echinodermata. the "polypes" of lamarck included not only the forms now known as such, but also the rotifera and protozoa, though, as we shall see, he afterwards in his course of eliminated from this heterogeneous assemblage the infusoria. comparing this classification with that of cuvier[ ] published in , we find that in the most important respects, _i.e._, the foundation of the classes of crustacea, arachnida, and radiata, there is a great advance over cuvier's system. in cuvier's work the molluscs are separated from the worms, and they are divided into three groups, cephalopodes, gasteropodes, and acephales--an arrangement which still holds, that of lamarck into mollusques céphalés and mollusques acéphalés being much less natural. with the elimination of the mollusca, cuvier allowed the vers or vermes of linné to remain undisturbed, except that the zoöphytes, the equivalent of lamarck's polypes, are separately treated. he agrees with cuvier in placing the molluscs at the head of the invertebrates, a course still pursued by some zoölogists at the present day. he states in the _philosophie zoologique_[ ] that in his course of lectures of the year he established the class of crustacea, and adds that "although this class is essentially distinct, it was not until six or seven years after that some naturalists consented to adopt it." the year following, or in his course of , he separated from the insects the class of arachnida, as "easy and necessary to be distinguished." but in he says that this class "is not yet admitted into any other work than my own."[ ] as to the class of annelides, he remarks: "cuvier having discovered the existence of arterial and venous vessels in different animals which have been confounded under the name of worms (_vers_) with other animals very differently organized, i immediately employed the consideration of this new fact in rendering my classification more perfect, and in my course of the year  ( ) i established the class of annelides, a class which i have placed after the molluscs and before the crustaceans, as their known organization requires." he first established this class in his _recherches sur les corps vivans_ ( ), but it was several years before it was adopted by naturalists. the next work in which lamarck deals with the classification of the invertebrates is his _discours d'ouverture du cours des animaux sans vertèbres_, published in . on page  he speaks of the animal chain or series, from the monad to man, ascending from the most simple to the most complex. the monad is one of his _polypes amorphs_, and he says that it is the most simple animal form, the most like the original germ (_ébauche_) from which living bodies have descended. from the monad nature passes to the volvox, proteus (amoeba), and vibrio. from them are derived the _polypes rotifères_ and other "radiaires," and then the vers, arachnides, and crustacea. on page  a tabular view is presented, as follows: . _les mollusques._ . _les cirrhipèdes._ . _les annelides._ . _les crustacés._ . _les arachnides._ . _les insectes._ . _les vers._ . _les radiaires._ . _les polypes._ it will be seen that at this date two additional classes are proposed and defined--_i.e._, the annelides and the cirrhipedes, though the class of annelida was first privately characterized in his lectures for . the elimination of the barnacles or cirrhipedes from the molluscs was a decided step in advance, and was a proof of the acute observation and sound judgment of lamarck. he says that this class is still very imperfectly known and its position doubtful, and adds: "the cirrhipedes have up to the present time been placed among the molluscs, but although certain of them closely approach them in some respects, they have a special character which compels us to separate them. in short, in the genera best known the feet of these animals are distinctly articulated and even crustaceous (_crustacés_)." he does not refer to the nervous system, but this is done in his next work. it will be remembered that cuvier overlooked this feature of the jointed limbs, and also the crustaceous-like nervous system of the barnacles, and allowed them to remain among the molluscs, notwithstanding the decisive step taken by lamarck. it was not until many years after ( ) that thompson proved by their life-history that barnacles are true crustacea. in the _philosophie zoologique_ the ten classes of the invertebrates are arranged in the following order: _les mollusques._ _les cirrhipèdes._ _les annelides._ _les crustacés._ _les arachnides._ _les insectes._ _les vers._ _les radiaires._ _les polypes._ _les infusoires._ at the end of the second volume lamarck gives a tabular view on a page by itself (p.  ), showing his conception of the origin of the different groups of animals. this is the first phylogeny or genealogical tree ever published. tableau servant à montrer l'origine des differens animaux. vers. infusoires. . polypes. . radiaires. . . . . . . . . insectes. . arachnides. annelides. crustacés. cirrhipèdes. mollusques. . . . poissons. reptiles. . . . . . oiseaux. . . . . . monotrèmes. m. amphibies. . . . . . . . m. cétacés. . . . m. ongulés. m. onguiculés. the next innovation made by lamarck in the _extrait du cours de zoologie_, in , was not a happy one. in this work he distributed the fourteen classes of the animal kingdom into three groups, which he named _animaux apathiques_, _sensibles_, and _intelligens_. in this physiologico-psychological base for a classification he unwisely departed from his usual more solid foundation of anatomical structure, and the results were worthless. he, however, repeats it in his great work, _histoire naturelle des animaux sans vertèbres_ ( - ). the sponges were by cuvier, and also by lamarck, accorded a position among the polypes, near alcyonium, which represents the latter's _polypiers empâtés_; and it is interesting to notice that, for many years remaining among the protozoa, meanwhile even by agassiz regarded as vegetables, they were by haeckel restored to a position among the coelenterates, though for over twenty years they have by some american zoölogists been more correctly regarded as a separate phylum.[ ] lamarck also separated the seals and morses from the cetacea. adopting his idea, cuvier referred the seals to an order of carnivora. another interesting matter, to which professor lacaze-duthiers has called attention in his interesting letter on p.  , is the position assigned _lucernaria_ among his _radiaires molasses_ near what are now ctenophora and medusæ, though one would have supposed he would, from its superficial resemblance to polyps, have placed it among the polyps. to lamarck we are also indebted for the establishment in of the molluscan group of heteropoda. lamarck's acuteness is also shown in the fact that, whereas cuvier placed them among the acephalous molluscs, he did not regard the ascidians as molluscs at all, but places them in a class by themselves under the name of _tunicata_, following the sipunculus worms. yet he allowed them to remain near the holothurians (then including sipunculus) in his group of _radiaires echinodermes_, between the latter and the vers. he differs from cuvier in regarding the tunic as the homologue of the shell of lamellibranches, remarking that it differs in being muscular and contractile. lamarck's fame as a zoölogist rests chiefly on this great work. it elicited the highest praise from his contemporaries. besides containing the innovations made in the classification of the animal kingdom, which he had published in previous works, it was a summary of all which was then known of the invertebrate classes, thus forming a most convenient hand-book, since it mentioned all the known genera and all the known species except those of the insects, of which only the types are mentioned. it passed through two editions, and still is not without value to the working systematist. in his _histoire des progrès des sciences naturelles_ cuvier does it justice. referring to the earlier volume, he states that "it has extended immensely the knowledge, especially by a new distribution, of the shelled molluscs ... m. de lamarck has established with as much care as sagacity the genera of shells." again he says, in noticing the three first volumes: "the great detail into which m. de lamarck has entered, the new species he has described, renders his work very valuable to naturalists, and renders most desirable its prompt continuation, especially from the knowledge we have of means which this experienced professor possesses to carry to a high degree of perfection the enumeration which he will give us of the shells" (_oeuvres complètes de buffon_, , t.  , p.  ). "his excellences," says cleland, speaking of lamarck as a scientific observer, "were width of scope, fertility of ideas, and a preëminent faculty of precise description, arising not only from a singularly terse style, but from a clear insight into both the distinctive features and the resemblance of forms" (_encyc. britannica_, art. lamarck). the work, moreover, is remarkable for being the first one to begin with the simplest and to end with the most highly developed forms. lamarck's special line of study was the mollusca. how his work is still regarded by malacologists is shown by the following letter from our leading student of molluscs, dr. w. h. dall: "smithsonian institution, "united states national museum, washington, d. c., "_november  , ._ "lamarck was one of the best naturalists of his time, when geniuses abounded. his work was the first well-marked step toward a natural system as opposed to the formalities of linné. he owed something to cuvier, yet he knew how to utilize the work in anatomy offered by cuvier in making a natural classification. his failing eyesight, which obliged him latterly to trust to the eyes of others; his poverty and trials of various kinds, more than excuse the occasional slips which we find in some of the later volumes of the _animaux sans vertèbres_. these are rather of the character of typographical errors than faults of scheme or principle. "the work of lamarck is really the foundation of rational natural malacological classification; practically all that came before his time was artificial in comparison. work that came later was in the line of expansion and elaboration of lamarck's, without any change of principle. only with the application of embryology and microscopical work of the most modern type has there come any essential change of method, and this is rather a new method of getting at the facts than any fundamental change in the way of using them when found. i shall await your work on lamarck's biography with great interest. "i remain, "yours sincerely, "william h. dall." footnotes: [ ] during the same period ( - ) russia sent out expeditions to the north and northeast, accompanied by the zoölogists tilesius, langsdorff, chamisso, eschscholtz, and brandt, all of them of german birth and education. from to england fitted up and sent out exploring expeditions commanded by beechey, fitzroy, belcher, ross, franklin, and stanley, the naturalists of which were bennett, owen, darwin, adams, and huxley. from germany, less of a maritime country, at a later date, humboldt, spix, prince wied-neuwied, natterer, perty, and others made memorable exploring expeditions and journeys. [ ] these papers have been mercilessly criticised by blainville in his "cuvier et geoffroy st. hilaire." in the second article--_i.e._, on the anatomy of the limpet--cuvier, in considering the organs, follows no definite plan; he gives a description "_tout-a-fait fantastique_" of the muscular fibres of the foot, and among other errors in this first essay on comparative anatomy he mistakes the tongue for the intromittent organ; the salivary glands, and what is probably part of the brain, being regarded as the testes, with other "_erreurs matérielles inconcevables, même à l'époque ou elle fut rédigée_." in his first article he mistakes a species of the myriapod genus glomeris for the isopod genus armadillo. in this he is corrected by the editor (possibly lamarck himself), who remarks in a footnote that the forms to which m. cuvier refers under the name of armadillo are veritable species of julus. we have verified these criticisms of cuvier by reference to his papers in the "journal." it is of interest to note, as blainville does, that cuvier at this period admits that there is a passage from the isopoda to the armadilloes and julus. cuvier, then twenty-three years old, wrote: "_nous sommes donc descendus par degrès, des Écrevisses aux squilles, de celles-ci aux aselles, puis aux cloportes, aux armadilles et aux Ïules_" (_journal d'hist. nat._, tom. ii., p.  , ). these errors, as regards the limpet, were afterwards corrected by cuvier (though he does not refer to his original papers) in his _mémoires pour servir à l'histoire et à l'anatomie des mollusques_ ( ). [ ] _tableau élémentaire de l'histoire naturelle des animaux._ paris, an vi. ( ). vo, pp.  . with plates. [ ] tome i., p.  . [ ] in his _histoire des progrès des sciences naturelles_ cuvier takes to himself part of the credit of founding the class crustacea, stating that aristotle had already placed them in a class by themselves, and adding, "_mm. cuvier et de lamarck les en out distingués par des caractères de premier ordre tirés de leur circulation._" undoubtedly cuvier described the circulation, but it was lamarck who actually realized the taxonomic importance of this feature and placed them in a distinct class. [ ] see a. hyatt's _revision of north american poriferæ_, part ii. (boston, , p.  ); also the present writer in his _text-book of zoölogy_ ( ). chapter xiii the evolutionary views of buffon and of geoffroy st. hilaire of the french precursors of lamarck there were four--duret ( ), de maillet ( ), robinet ( ), and buffon. the opinions of the first three could hardly be taken seriously, as they were crude and fantastic, though involving the idea of descent. the suggestions and hypotheses of buffon and of erasmus darwin were of quite a different order, and deserve careful consideration. [illustration: maison de buffon, in which lamarck lived, - ] george louis leclerc, comte de buffon, was born in at montbard, burgundy, in the same year as linné. he died at paris in , at the age of eighty-one years. he inherited a large property from his father, who was a councillor of the parliament of burgundy. he studied at dijon, and travelled abroad. buffon was rich, but, greatly to his credit, devoted all his life to the care of the royal garden and to writing his works, being a most prolific author. he was not an observer, not even a closet naturalist. "i have passed," he is reported to have said, "fifty years at my desk." appointed in , when he was thirty-two years old, intendant of the royal garden, he divided his time between his retreat at montbard and paris, spending four months in paris and the remainder of the year at montbard, away from the distractions and dissipations of the capital. it is significant that he wrote his great _histoire naturelle_ at montbard and not at paris, where were the collections of natural history. his biographer, flourens, says: "what dominates in the character of buffon is elevation, force, the love of greatness and glory; he loved magnificence in everything. his fine figure, his majestic air, seemed to have some relation with the greatness of his genius; and nature had refused him none of those qualities which could attract the attention of mankind. "nothing is better known than the _naïveté_ of his self-esteem; he admired himself with perfect honesty, frankly, but good-naturedly." he was once asked how many great men he could really mention; he answered: "five--newton, bacon, leibnitz, montesquieu, and myself." his admirable style gained him immediate reputation and glory throughout the world of letters. his famous epigram, "_le style est l'homme même_" is familiar to every one. that his moral courage was scarcely of a high order is proved by his little affair with the theologians of the sorbonne. buffon was not of the stuff of which martyrs are made. his forte was that of a brilliant writer and most industrious compiler, a popularizer of science. he was at times a bold thinker; but his prudence, not to say timidity, in presenting in his ironical way his thoughts on the origin of things, is annoying, for we do not always understand what buffon did really believe about the mutability or the fixity of species, as too plain speaking in the days he wrote often led to persecution and personal hazard.[ ] his cosmological ideas were based on those of burnet and leibnitz. his geological notions were founded on the labors of palissy, steno, woodward, and whiston. he depended upon his friend daubenton for anatomical facts, and on gueneau de montbéliard and the abbé bexon for his zoölogical data. as flourens says, "buffon was not exactly an observer: others observed and discovered for him. he discovered, himself, the observations of others; he sought for ideas, others sought facts for him." how fulsome his eulogists were is seen in the case of flourens, who capped the climax in exclaiming, "buffon is leibnitz with the eloquence of plato;" and he adds, "he did not write for savants: he wrote for all mankind." no one now reads buffon, while the works of réaumur, who preceded him, are nearly as valuable as ever, since they are packed with careful observations. the experiments of redi, of swammerdam, and of vallisneri, and the observations of réaumur, had no effect on buffon, who maintained that, of the different forms of genesis, "spontaneous generation" is not only the most frequent and the most general, but the most ancient--namely, the primitive and the most universal.[ ] buffon by nature was unsystematic, and he possessed little of the spirit or aim of the true investigator. he left no technical papers or memoirs, or what we would call contributions to science. in his history of animals he began with the domestic breeds, and then described those of most general, popular interest, those most known. he knew, as malesherbes claimed, little about the works even of linné and other systematists, neither grasping their principles nor apparently caring to know their methods. his single positive addition to zoölogical science was generalizations on the geographical distribution of animals. he recognized that the animals of the tropical and southern portions of the old and new worlds were entirely unlike, while those of north america and northern eurasia were in many cases the same. we will first bring together, as flourens and also butler have done, his scattered fragmentary views, or rather suggestions, on the fixity of species, and then present his thoughts on the mutability of species. "the species" is then "an abstract and general term."[ ] "there only exist individuals and _suites_ of individuals, that is to say, species."[ ] he also says that nature "imprints on each species its unalterable characters;" that "each species has an equal right to creation;"[ ] that species, even those nearest allied, "are separated by an interval over which nature cannot pass;"[ ] and that "each species having been independently created, the first individuals have served as a model for their descendants."[ ] buffon, however, shows the true scientific spirit in speaking of final causes. "the pig," he says, "is not formed as an original, special, and perfect type; its type is compounded of that of many other animals. it has parts which are evidently useless, or which, at any rate, it cannot use." ... "but we, ever on the lookout to refer all parts to a certain end--when we can see no apparent use for them, suppose them to have hidden uses, and imagine connections which are without foundation, and serve only to obscure our perception of nature as she really is: we fail to see that we thus rob philosophy of her true character, which is to inquire into the 'how' of these things--into the manner in which nature acts--and that we substitute for this true object a vain idea, seeking to divine the 'why'--the ends which she has proposed in acting" (tome v., p.  , , _ex_ butler). the volumes of the _histoire naturelle_ on animals, beginning with tome iv., appeared in the years to , or over a period of fourteen years. butler, in his _evolution, old and new_, effectually disposes of isidore geoffroy st. hilaire's statement that at the beginning of his work (tome iv., ) he affirms the fixity of species, while from to he declares for variability. but butler asserts from his reading of the first edition that "from the very first chapter onward he leant strongly to mutability, even if he did not openly avow his belief in it.... the reader who turns to buffon himself will find that the idea that buffon took a less advanced position in his old age than he had taken in middle life is also without foundation"[ ] (p.  ). but he had more to say on the other side, that of the mutability of species, and it is these tentative views that his commentators have assumed to have been his real sentiments or belief, and for this reason place buffon among the evolutionists, though he had little or no idea of evolution in the enlarged and thoroughgoing sense of lamarck. he states, however, that the presence of callosities on the legs of the camel and llama "are the unmistakable results of rubbing or friction; so also with the callosities of baboons and the pouched monkeys, and the double soles of man's feet."[ ] in this point he anticipates erasmus darwin and lamarck. as we shall see, however, his notions were much less firmly grounded than those of erasmus darwin, who was a close observer as well as a profound thinker. in his chapter on the _dégénération des animaux_, or, as it is translated, "modification of animals," buffon insists that the three causes are climate, food, and domestication. the examples he gives are the sheep, which having originated, as he thought, from the mufflon, shows marked changes. the ox varies under the influence of food; reared where the pasturage is rich it is twice the size of those living in a dry country. the races of the torrid zones bear a hump on their shoulders; "the zebu, the buffalo, is, in short, only a variety, only a race of our domestic ox." he attributed the camel's hump to domesticity. he refers the changes of color in the northern hare to the simple change of seasons. he is most explicit in referring to the agency of climate, and also to time and to the uniformity of nature's processes in causing variation. writing in he says: "if we consider each species in the different climates which it inhabits we shall find perceptible varieties as regards size and form; they all derive an impress to a greater or less extent from the climate in which they live. these changes are only made slowly and imperceptibly. nature's great workman is time. he marches ever with an even pace and does nothing by leaps and bounds, but by degrees, gradations, and succession he does all things; and the changes which he works--at first imperceptible--become little by little perceptible, and show themselves eventually in results about which there can be no mistake. nevertheless, animals in a free, wild state are perhaps less subject than any other living beings, man not excepted, to alterations, changes, and variations of all kinds. being free to choose their own food and climate, they vary less than domestic animals vary."[ ] the buffonian factor of the direct influence of climate is not in general of so thoroughgoing a character as usually supposed by the commentators of buffon. he generally applies it to the superficial changes, such as the increase or decrease in the amount of hair, or similar modifications not usually regarded as specific characters. the modifications due to the direct influence of climate may be effected, he says, within even a few generations. under the head of geographical distribution (in tome ix., ), in which subject buffon made his most original contribution to exact biology, he claims to have been the first "even to have suspected" that not a single tropical species is common to both eastern and western continents, but that the animals common to both continents are those adapted to a temperate or cold climate. he even anticipates the subject of migration in past geological times by supposing that those forms travelled from the old world either over some land still unknown, or "more probably" over territory which has long since been submerged.[ ] the mammoth "was certainly the greatest and strongest of all quadrupeds, but it has disappeared; and if so, how many smaller, feebler, and less remarkable species must have perished without leaving us any traces or even hints of their having existed? how many other species have changed their nature, that is to say, become perfected or degraded, through great changes in the distribution of land and ocean; through the cultivation or neglect of the country which they inhabit; through the long-continued effects of climatic changes, so that they are no longer the same animals that they once were. yet of all living beings after man the quadrupeds are the ones whose nature is most fixed and form most constant; birds and fishes vary much more easily; insects still more again than these; and if we descend to plants, which certainly cannot be excluded from animated nature, we shall be surprised at the readiness with which species are seen to vary, and at the ease with which they change their forms and adopt new natures."[ ] the following passages, debarring the error of deriving all the american from the old world forms, and the mistake in supposing that the american forms grew smaller than their ancestors in the old world, certainly smack of the principle of isolation and segregation, and this is buffon's most important contribution to the theory of descent. "it is probable, then, that all the animals of the new world are derived from congeners in the old, without any deviation from the ordinary course of nature. we may believe that, having become separated in the lapse of ages by vast oceans and countries which they could not traverse, they have gradually been affected by, and derived impressions from, a climate which has itself been modified so as to become a new one through the operations of those same causes which dissociated the individuals of the old and the new world from one another; thus in the course of time they have grown smaller and changed their characters. this, however, should not prevent our classifying them as different species now, for the difference is no less real though it dates from the creation. _nature, i maintain, is in a state of continual flux and movement. it is enough for man if he can grasp her as she is in his own time, and throw but a glance or two upon the past and future, so as to try and perceive what she may have been in former times and what one day she may attain to._"[ ] buffon thus suggests the principle of the struggle for existence to prevent overcrowding, resulting in the maintenance of the balance of nature: "it may be said that the movement of nature turns upon two immovable pivots--one, the illimitable fecundity which she has given to all species; the other, the innumerable difficulties which reduce the results of that fecundity, and leave throughout time nearly the same quantity of individuals in every species; ... destruction and sterility follow closely upon excessive fecundity, and, independently of the contagion which follows inevitably upon overcrowding, each species has its own special sources of death and destruction, which are of themselves sufficient to compensate for excess in any past generation."[ ] he also adds, "the species the least perfect, the most delicate, the most unwieldy, the least active, the most unarmed, etc., have already disappeared or will disappear."[ ] on one occasion, in writing on the dog, he anticipates erasmus darwin and lamarck in ascribing to the direct cause of modification the inner feelings of the animal modified, change of condition being the indirect cause.[ ] he, however, did not suggest the idea of the transmission of acquired characters by heredity, and does not mention the word heredity. these are all the facts he stated; but though not an observer, buffon was a broad thinker, and was led from these few data to generalize, as he could well do, from the breadth of his knowledge of geology gained from the works of his predecessors, from leibnitz to woodward and whiston. "after the rapid glance," he says, "at these variations, which indicate to us the special changes undergone by each species, there arises a more important consideration, and the view of which is broader; it is that of the transformation (_changement_) of the species themselves; it is that more ancient modification which has gone on from time immemorial, which seems to have been made in each family or, if we prefer, in each of the genera in which were comprised more or less allied species."[ ] in the beginning of his first volume he states "that we can descend by almost imperceptible degrees from the most perfect creature to the most formless matter--from the most highly organized animal to the most entirely inorganic substance. we will recognize this gradation as the great work of nature; and we will observe it not only as regards size and form, but also in respect of movements and in the successive generations of every species." "hence," he continues, "arises the difficulty of arriving at any perfect system or method in dealing either with nature as a whole or even with any single one of her subdivisions. the gradations are so subtle that we are often obliged to make arbitrary divisions. nature knows nothing about our classifications, and does not choose to lend herself to them without reasons. we therefore see a number of intermediate species and objects which it is very hard to classify, and which of necessity derange our system, whatever it may be."[ ] this is all true, and was probably felt by buffon's predecessors, but it does not imply that he thought these forms had descended from one another. "in thus comparing," he adds, "all the animals, and placing them each in its proper genus, we shall find that the two hundred species whose history we have given may be reduced to a quite small number of families or principal sources from which it is not impossible that all the others may have issued."[ ] he then establishes, on the one hand, nine species which he regarded as isolated, and, on the other, fifteen principal genera, primitive sources or, as we would say, ancestral forms, from which he derived all the animals (mammals) known to him. hence he believed that he could derive the dog, the jackal, the wolf, and the fox from a single one of these four species; yet he remarks, _per contra_, in : "although we cannot demonstrate that the production of a species by modification is a thing impossible to nature, the number of contrary probabilities is so enormous that, even philosophically, we can scarcely doubt it; for if any species has been produced by the modification of another, if the species of ass has been derived from that of the horse, this could have been done only successively and by gradual steps: there would have been between the horse and ass a great number of intermediate animals, the first of which would gradually differ from the nature of the horse, and the last would gradually approach that of the ass; and why do we not see to-day the representatives, the descendants of those intermediate species? why are only the two extremes living?" (tome iv., p.  ). "if we once admit that the ass belongs to the horse family, and that it only differs from it because it has been modified (_dégénéré_), we may likewise say that the monkey is of the same family as man, that it is a modified man, that man and the monkey have had a common origin like the horse and ass, that each family has had but a single source, and even that all the animals have come from a single animal, which in the succession of ages has produced, while perfecting and modifying itself, all the races of other animals" (tome iv., p.  ). "if it were known that in the animals there had been, i do not say several species, but a single one which had been produced by modification from another species; if it were true that the ass is only a modified horse, there would be no limit to the power of nature, and we would not be wrong in supposing that from a single being she has known how to derive, with time, all the other organized beings" (_ibid._, p.  ). the next sentence, however, translated, reads as follows: "but no. it is certain from revelation that all animals have alike been favored with the grace of an act of direct creation, and that the first pair of every species issued fully formed from the hands of the creator" (tome iv., p.  ). in which of these views did buffon really believe? yet they appear in the same volume, and not at different periods of his life. he actually does say in the same volume (iv., p.  ): "it is not impossible that all species may be derivations (_issues_)." in the same volume also (p.  ) he remarks: "there is in nature a general prototype in each species on which each individual is modelled, but which seems, in being realized, to change or become perfected by circumstances; so that, relatively to certain qualities, there is a singular (_bizarre_) variation in appearance in the succession of individuals, and at the same time a constancy in the entire species which appears to be admirable." and yet we find him saying at the same period of his life, in the previous volume, that species "are the only beings in nature, beings perpetual, as ancient, as permanent as she."[ ] a few pages farther on in the same volume of the same work, apparently written at the same time, he is strongly and stoutly anti-evolutional, affirming: "the imprint of each species is a type whose principal features are graven in characters forever ineffaceable and permanent."[ ] in this volume (iv., p.  ) he remarks that the senses, whether in man or in animals, may be greatly developed by exercise. the impression left on the mind, after reading buffon, is that even if he threw out these suggestions and then retracted them, from fear of annoyance or even persecution from the bigots of his time, he did not himself always take them seriously, but rather jotted them down as passing thoughts. certainly he did not present them in the formal, forcible, and scientific way that erasmus darwin did. the result is that the tentative views of buffon, which have to be with much research extracted from the forty-four volumes of his works, would now be regarded as in a degree superficial and valueless. but they appeared thirty-four years before lamarck's theory, and though not epoch-making, they are such as will render the name of buffon memorable for all time. Étienne geoffroy st. hilaire. Étienne geoffroy st. hilaire was born at Étampes, april  , . he died in paris in . he was destined for the church, but his tastes were for a scientific career. his acquaintance with the abbé haüy and daubenton led him to study mineralogy. he was the means of liberating haüy from a political prison; the abbé, as the result of the events of august, , being promptly set free at the request of the academy of sciences. the young geoffroy was in his turn aided by the illustrious haüy, who obtained for him the position of sub-guardian and demonstrator of mineralogy in the cabinet of natural history. at the early age of twenty-one years, as we have seen, he was elected professor of zoölogy in the museum, in charge of the department of mammals and birds. he was the means of securing for cuvier, then of his own age, a position in the museum as professor-adjunct of comparative anatomy. for two years ( and ) the two youthful savants were inseparable, sharing the same apartments, the same table, the same amusements, the same studies, and their scientific papers were prepared in company and signed in common. [illustration: É. geoffroy st. hilaire] geoffroy became a member of the great scientific commission sent to egypt by napoleon ( - ). by his boldness and presence of mind he, with savigny and the botanist delille, saved the treasures which at alexandria had fallen into the hands of the english general in command. in he was charged by napoleon with the duty of organizing public instruction in portugal. here again, by his address and firmness, he saved the collections and exchanges made there from the hands of the english. when thirty-six years old he was elected a member of the institute. in he began to discuss philosophical anatomy, the doctrine of homologies; he also studied the embryology of the mammals, and was the founder of teratology. it was he who discovered the vestigial teeth of the baleen whale and those of embryo birds, and the bearing of this on the doctrine of descent must have been obvious to him. as early as , before lamarck had changed his views as to the stability of species, the young geoffroy, then twenty-three years old, dared to claim that species may be only "_les diverses dégénérations d'un même type_." these views he did not abandon, nor, on the other hand, did he actively promulgate them. it was not until thirty years later, in his memoir on the anatomy of the gavials, that he began the series of his works bearing on the question of species. in was held the famous debates between himself and cuvier in the academy of sciences. but the contest was not so much on the causes of the variation of species as on the doctrine of homologies and the unity of organization in the animal kingdom. in fact, geoffroy did not adopt the views peculiar to his old friend lamarck, but was rather a follower of buffon. his views were preceded by two premises. the species is only "_fixé sous la raison du maintien de l'état conditionnel de son milieu ambiant_." it is modified, it changes, if the environment (_milieu ambiant_) varies, and according to the extent (selon la portée) of the variations of the latter.[ ] as the result, among recent or living beings there are no essential differences as regards them--"_c'est le même cours d'événements_," or "_la même marche d'excitation_."[ ] on the other hand, the _monde ambiant_ having undergone more or less considerable change from one geological epoch to another, the atmosphere having even varied in its chemical composition, and the conditions of respiration having been thus modified,[ ] the beings then living would differ in structure from their ancestors of ancient times, and would differ from them according "to the degree of the modifying power."[ ] again, he says, "the animals living to-day have been derived by a series of uninterrupted generations from the extinct animals of the antediluvian world."[ ] he gave as an example the crocodiles of the present day, which he believed to have descended from the fossil forms. while he admitted the possibility of one type passing into another, separated by characters of more than generic value, he always, according to his son isidore, rejected the view which made all the living species descend "_d'une espèce antediluvienne primitive_."[ ] it will be seen that geoffroy st. hilaire's views were chiefly based on palæontological evidence. he was throughout broad and philosophical, and his eloquent demonstration in his _philosophie anatomique_ of the doctrine of homologies served to prepare the way for modern morphology, and affords one of the foundation stones on which rests the theory of descent. though temporarily vanquished in the debate with cuvier, who was a forceful debater and represented the views then prevalent, a later generation acknowledges that he was in the right, and remembers him as one of the founders of evolution. footnotes: [ ] mr. morley, in his _rousseau_, gives a startling picture of the hostility of the parliament at the period ( ) when buffon's works appeared. not only was rousseau hunted out of france, and his books burnt by the public executioner, but there was "hardly a single man of letters of that time who escaped arbitrary imprisonment" (p.  ); among others thus imprisoned was diderot. at this time ( - ) malesherbes (born , guillotined ), one of the "best instructed and most enlightened men of the century," was directeur de la libraire. "the process was this: a book was submitted to him; he named a censor for it; on the censor's report the director gave or refused permission to print or required alterations. even after these formalities were complied with, the book was liable to a decree of the royal council, a decree of the parliament, or else a lettre-de-cachet might send the author to the bastille" (morley's _rousseau_, p.  ). [ ] _histoire naturelle, générale et particulière._ st edition. imprimerie royale. paris: - ,  vols. to. tome iv., p.  . this is the best of all the editions of buffon, says flourens, from whose _histoire des travaux et des idées de buffon_, st edition (paris, ), we take some of the quotations and references, which, however, we have verified. we have also quoted some passages from buffon translated by butler in his "evolution, old and new" (london, ). [ ] _l. c._, tome iv., p.  ( ). this is the first volume on the animals below man. [ ] tome xi., p.  ( ). [ ] tome xii., p.  ( ). [ ] tome v., p.  ( ). [ ] tome xiii., p. vii. ( ). [ ] osborn adopts, without warrant we think, isidore geoffroy st. hilaire's notion, stating that he "shows clearly that his opinions marked three periods." the writings of isidore, the son of Étienne geoffroy, have not the vigor, exactness, or depth of those of his father. [ ] tome xiv., p.  ( ). [ ] tome vi., pp.  - ( ). [ ] butler, _l. c._, pp.  - . [ ] tome ix., p.  , (_ex_ butler). [ ] tome ix., p.  , (_ex_ butler). [ ] tome vi., p.  , (quoted from butler, _l. c._, pp.  - ). [ ] quoted from osborn, who takes it from de lanessan. [ ] butler, _l. c._, p.  (from buffon, tome v., ). [ ] tome xiv., p.  ( ). [ ] tome i., p.  . [ ] tome xiv., p.  . [ ] tome xiii., p. i. [ ] tome xiii., p. ix. [ ] _Études progressives d'un naturaliste_, etc., , p.  . [ ] _ibid._ [ ] _sur l'influence du monde ambiant pour modifier les formes animaux (mémoires acad. sciences_, xii., , pp.  , ). [ ] _recherches sur l'organisation des gavials (mémoires du muséum d'histoire naturelle_), xii., p.  ( ). [ ] _sur l'influence du monde ambiant_, p.  . [ ] _dictionnaire de la conversation_, xxxi., p.  , (quoted by i. geoffroy st. hilaire); _histoire nat. gén. des règnes organiques_, ii., ^e partie; also _résumé_, p.  ( ). chapter xiv the views of erasmus darwin erasmus darwin, the grandfather of charles darwin, was born in , or twenty-four years after buffon. he was an english country physician with a large practice, and not only interested in philosophy, mechanics, and natural science, but given to didactic rhyming, as evinced by _the botanical garden_ and _the loves of the plants_, the latter of which was translated into french in , and into italian in . his "shrewd and homely mind," his powers of keen observation and strong common sense were revealed in his celebrated work _zoonomia_, which was published in two volumes in , and translated into german in - . he was not a zoölogist, published no separate scientific articles, and his striking and original views on evolution, which were so far in advance of his time, appear mostly in the section on "generation," comprising  pages of his _zoonomia_,[ ] which was mainly a medical work. the book was widely read, excited much discussion, and his views decided opposition. samuel butler in his _evolution, old and new_ ( ) remarks: "paley's _natural theology_ is written throughout at the _zoonomia_, though he is careful, _moro suo_, never to mention this work by name. paley's success was probably one of the chief causes of the neglect into which the buffonian and darwinian systems fell in this country." dr. darwin died in the same year ( ) as that in which the _natural theology_ was published. krause also writes of the reception given by his contemporaries to his "physio-philosophical ideas." "they spoke of his wild and eccentric fancies, and the expression 'darwinising' (as employed, for example, by the poet coleridge when writing on stillingfleet) was accepted in england nearly as the antithesis of sober biological investigation."[ ] the grandson of erasmus darwin had little appreciation of the views of him of whom, through atavic heredity, he was the intellectual and scientific child. "it is curious," he says in the 'historical sketch' of the _origin of species_--"it is curious how largely my grandfather, dr. erasmus darwin, anticipated the views and erroneous grounds of opinion of lamarck in his _zoonomia_ (vol. i., pp.  - ), published in ." it seems a little strange that charles darwin did not devote a few lines to stating just what his ancestor's views were, for certain of them, as we shall see, are anticipations of his own. the views of erasmus darwin may thus be summarily stated: . all animals have originated "from a single living filament" (p.  ), or, stated in other words, referring to the warm-blooded animals alone, "one is led to conclude that they have alike been produced from a similar living filament" (p.  ); and again he expresses the conjecture that one and the same kind of living filament is and has been the cause of all organic life (p.  ). it does not follow that he was a "spermist," since he strongly argued against the incasement or "evolution" theory of bonnet. . changes produced by differences of climate and even seasons. thus "the sheep of warm climates are covered with hair instead of wool, and the hares and partridges of the latitudes which are long buried in snow become white during the winter months" (p.  ). only a passing reference is made to this factor, and the effects of domestication are but cursorily referred to. in this respect darwin's views differed much from buffon's, with whom they were the primary causes in the modification of animals. the other factors or agencies are not referred to by buffon, showing that darwin was not indebted to buffon, but thought out the matter in his own independent way. . "fifthly, from their first rudiment or primordium to the termination of their lives, all animals undergo perpetual transformations, which are in part produced by their own exertions in consequence of their desires and aversions, of their pleasures and their pains, or of irritations or of associations; and many of these acquired forms or propensities are transmitted to their posterity" (p.  ). the three great objects of desire are, he says, "lust, hunger, and security" (p.  ). . contests of the males for the possession of the females, or law of battle. under the head of desire he dwells on the desire of the male for the exclusive possession of the female; and "these have acquired weapons to combat each other for this purpose," as the very thick, shield-like horny skin on the shoulders of the boar, and his tusks, the horns of the stag, the spurs of cocks and quails. "the final cause," he says, "of this contest among the males seems to be that the strongest and most active animal should propagate the species, which should thence become improved" (p.  ). this savors so strongly of sexual selection that we wonder very much that charles darwin repudiated it as "erroneous." it is not mentioned by lamarck, nor is dr. darwin's statement of the exertions and desires of animals at all similar to lamarck's, who could not have borrowed his ideas on appetency from darwin or any other predecessor. . the transmission of characters acquired during the lifetime of the parent. this is suggested in the following crude way: "thirdly, when we enumerate the great changes produced in the species of animals before their maturity, as, for example, when the offspring reproduces the effects produced upon the parent by accident or cultivation; or the changes produced by the mixture of species, as in mules; or the changes produced probably by the exuberance of nourishment supplied to the fetus, as in monstrous births with additional limbs, many of these enormities of shape are propagated and continued as a variety, at least, if not as a new species of animal. i have seen a breed of cats with an additional claw on every foot; of poultry also with an additional claw, and with wings to their feet, and of others without rumps. mr. buffon mentions a breed of dogs without tails, which are common at rome and naples, which he supposes to have been produced by a custom, long established, of cutting their tails close off. there are many kinds of pigeons admired for their peculiarities which are more or less thus produced and propagated."[ ] . the means of procuring food has, he says, "diversified the forms of all species of animals. thus the nose of the swine has become hard for the purpose of turning up the soil in search of insects and of roots. the trunk of the elephant is an elongation of the nose for the purpose of pulling down the branches of trees for his food, and for taking up water without bending his knees. beasts of prey have acquired strong jaws or talons. cattle have acquired a rough tongue and a rough palate to pull off the blades of grass, as cows and sheep. some birds have acquired harder beaks to crack nuts, as the parrot. others have acquired beaks to break the harder seeds, as sparrows. others for the softer kinds of flowers, or the buds of trees, as the finches. other birds have acquired long beaks to penetrate the moister soils in search of insects or roots, as woodcocks, and others broad ones to filtrate the water of lakes and to retain aquatic insects. all which seem to have been gradually produced during many generations by the perpetual endeavors of the creature to supply the want of food, and to have been delivered to their posterity with constant improvement of them for the purpose required" (p.  ). . the third great want among animals is that of security, which seems to have diversified the forms of their bodies and the color of them; these consist in the means of escaping other animals more powerful than themselves.[ ] hence some animals have acquired wings instead of legs, as the smaller birds, for purposes of escape. others, great length of fin or of membrane, as the flying-fish and the bat. others have acquired hard or armed shells, as the tortoise and the echinus marinus (p.  ). "the colors of insects," he says, "and many smaller animals contribute to conceal them from the dangers which prey upon them. caterpillars which feed on leaves are generally green; earthworms the color of the earth which they inhabit; butterflies, which frequent flowers, are colored like them; small birds which frequent hedges have greenish backs like the leaves, and light-colored bellies like the sky, and are hence less visible to the hawk, who passes under them or over them. those birds which are much amongst flowers, as the goldfinch (_fringilla carduelis_), are furnished with vivid colors. the lark, partridge, hare, are the color of dry vegetables or earth on which they rest. and frogs vary their color with the mud of the streams which they frequent; and those which live on trees are green. fish, which are generally suspended in water, and swallows, which are generally suspended in air, have their backs the color of the distant ground, and their bellies of the sky. in the colder climates many of these become white during the existence of the snows. hence there is apparent design in the colors of animals, whilst those of vegetables seem consequent to the other properties of the materials which possess them" (_the loves of the plants_, p.  , note). in his _zoonomia_ (§ xxxix., vi.) darwin also speaks of the efficient cause of the various colors of the eggs of birds and of the hair and feathers of animals which are adapted to the purpose of concealment. "thus the snake, and wild cat, and leopard are so colored as to resemble dark leaves and their light interstices" (p.  ). the eggs of hedge-birds are greenish, with dark spots; those of crows and magpies, which are seen from beneath through wicker nests, are white, with dark spots; and those of larks and partridges are russet or brown, like their nests or situations. he adds: "the final cause of their colors is easily understood, as they serve some purpose of the animal, but the efficient cause would seem almost beyond conjecture." of all this subject of protective mimicry thus sketched out by the older darwin, we find no hint or trace in any of lamarck's writings. . great length of time. he speaks of the "great length of time since the earth began to exist, perhaps millions of ages before the commencement of the history of mankind" (p.  ). in this connection it may be observed that dr. darwin emphatically opposes the preformation views of haller and bonnet in these words: "many ingenious philosophers have found so great difficulty in conceiving the manner of the reproduction of animals that they have supposed all the numerous progeny to have existed in miniature in the animal originally created, and that these infinitely minute forms are only evolved or distended as the embryon increases in the womb. this idea, besides being unsupported by any analogy we are acquainted with, ascribes a greater tenuity to organized matter than we can readily admit" (p.  ); and in another place he claims that "we cannot but be convinced that the fetus or embryon is formed by apposition of new parts, and not by the distention of a primordial nest of germs included one within another like the cups of a conjurer" (p.  ). . to explain instinct he suggests that the young simply imitate the acts or example of their parents. he says that wild birds choose spring as their building time "from the acquired knowledge that the mild temperature of the air is more convenient for hatching their eggs;" and further on, referring to the fact that seed-eating animals generally produce their young in spring, he suggests that it is "part of the traditional knowledge which they learn from the example of their parents."[ ] . hybridity. he refers in a cursory way to the changes produced by the mixture of species, as in mules. of these ten factors or principles, and other views of dr. darwin, some are similar to those of lamarck, while others are directly opposed. there are therefore no good grounds for supposing that lamarck was indebted to darwin for his views. thus erasmus darwin supposes that the formation of organs precedes their use. as he says, "the lungs must be previously formed before their exertions to obtain fresh air can exist; the throat or oesophagus must be formed previous to the sensation or appetites of hunger and thirst" (_zoonomia_, p.  ). again (_zoonomia_, i., p.  ), "from hence i conclude that with the acquisition of new parts, new sensations and new desires, as well as new powers, are produced" (p.  ). lamarck does not carry his doctrine of use-inheritance so far as erasmus darwin, who claimed, what some still maintain at the present day, that the offspring reproduces "the effects produced upon the parent by accident or cultivation." the idea that all animals have descended from a similar living filament is expressed in a more modern and scientific way by lamarck, who derived them from monads. the erasmus darwin way of stating that the transformations of animals are in part produced by their own exertions in consequence of their desires and aversions, etc., is stated in a quite different way by lamarck. finally the principle of law of battle, or the combat between the males for the possession of the females, with the result "that the strongest and most active animal should propagate the species," is not hinted at by lamarck. this view, on the contrary, is one of the fundamental principles of the doctrine of natural selection, and was made use of by charles darwin and others. so also erasmus anticipated charles darwin in the third great want of "security," in seeking which the forms and colors of animals have been modified. this is an anticipation of the principle of protective mimicry, so much discussed in these days by darwin, wallace, and others, and which was not even mentioned by lamarck. from the internal evidence of lamarck's writings we therefore infer that he was in no way indebted to erasmus darwin for any hints or ideas.[ ] footnotes: [ ] vol. ii., d edition. our references are to this edition. [ ] krause, _the scientific works of erasmus darwin_, footnote on p.  : "see 'athenæum,' march, , p.  ." [ ] _zoonomia_, i., p.  ( d edition, p.  ). [ ] the subject of protective mimicry is more explicitly stated by dr. darwin in his earlier book, _the loves of the plants_, and, as krause states, though rösel von rosenhof in his _insekten-belustigungen_ (nurnberg, ) describes the resemblance which geometric caterpillars, and also certain moths when in repose, present to dry twigs, and thus conceal themselves, "this group of phenomena seems to have been first regarded from a more general point of view by dr. darwin." [ ] _zoonomia_, vol. i., p.  . [ ] mr. samuel butler, in his _evolution, old and new_, taking it for granted that lamarck was "a partisan of immutability till ," intimates that "the secret of this sudden conversion must be found in a french translation by m. deleuze of dr. darwin's poem, _the loves of the plants_, which appeared in . lamarck--the most eminent botanist of his time--was sure to have heard of and seen this, and would probably know the translator, who would be able to give him a fair idea of the _zoonomia_" (p.  ). but this notion seems disproved by the fact that lamarck delivered his famous lecture, published in , during the last of april or in the first half of may, . the views then presented must have been formed in his mind at least for some time--perhaps a year or more--previous, and were the result of no sudden inspiration, least of all from any information given him by deleuze, whom he probably never met. if lamarck had actually seen and read the _zoonomia_ he would have been manly enough to have given him credit for any novel ideas. besides that, as we have already seen, the internal evidence shows that lamarck's views were in some important points entirely different from those of erasmus darwin, and were conceptions original with the french zoölogist. krause in his excellent essay on the scientific works of erasmus darwin ( ) refers to lamarck as "evidently a disciple of darwin," stating that lamarck worked out "in all directions" erasmus darwin's principles of "will and active efforts" (p.  ). chapter xv when did lamarck change his views regarding the mutability of species? lamarck's mind was essentially philosophical. he was given to inquiring into the causes and origin of things. when thirty-two years old he wrote his "researches on the causes of the principal physical facts," though this work did not appear from the press until , when he was fifty years of age. in this treatise he inquires into the origin of compounds and of minerals; also he conceived that all the rocks as well as all chemical compounds and minerals originated from organic life. these inquiries were reiterated in his "memoirs on physics and natural history," which appeared in , when he was fifty-three years old. the atmosphere of philosophic france, as well as of england and germany in the eighteenth century, was charged with inquiries into the origin of things material, though more especially of things immaterial. it was a period of energetic thinking. whether lamarck had read the works of these philosophers or not we have no means of knowing. buffon, we know, was influenced by leibnitz. did buffon's guarded suggestions have no influence on the young lamarck? he enjoyed his friendship and patronage in early life, frequenting his house, and was for a time the travelling companion of buffon's son. it should seem most natural that he would have been personally influenced by his great predecessor, but we see no indubitable trace of such influence in his writings. lamarckism is not buffonism. it comprises in the main quite a different, more varied and comprehensive set of factors.[ ] was lamarck influenced by the biological writings of haller, bonnet, or by the philosophic views of condillac, whose _essai sur l'origine des connaissances humaines_ appeared in ; or of condorcet, whom he must personally have known, and whose _esquisse d'un tableau historique des progrès de l'esprit humain_ was published in ?[ ] in one case only in lamarck's works do we find reference to these thinkers. was lamarck, as the result of his botanical studies from to , and being puzzled, as systematic botanists are, by the variations of the more plastic species of plants, led to deny the fixity of species? we have been unable to find any indications of a change of views in his botanical writings, though his papers are prefaced by philosophical reflections. it would indeed be interesting to know what led lamarck to change his views. without any explanation as to the reason from his own pen, we are led to suppose that his studies on the invertebrates, his perception of the gradations in the animal scale from monad to man, together with his inherent propensity to inquire into the origin of things, also his studies on fossils, as well as the broadening nature of his zoölogical investigations and his meditations during the closing years of the eighteenth century, must gradually have led to a change of views. it was said by isidore geoffroy st. hilaire that lamarck was "long a partisan of the immutability of species,"[ ] but the use of the word "partisan" appears to be quite incorrect, as he only in one instance expresses such views. the only place where we have seen any statement of lamarck's earlier opinions is in his _recherches sur les causes des principaux faits physiques_, which was written, as the "advertisement" states, "about eighteen years" before its publication in . the treatise was actually presented april  , , to the académie des sciences.[ ] it will be seen by the following passages, which we translate, that, as huxley states, this view presents a striking contrast to those to be found in the _philosophie zoologique_: " . although my sole object in this article [article premier, p.  ] has only been to treat of the physical cause of the maintenance of life of organic beings, still i have ventured to urge at the outset that the existence of these astonishing beings by no means depends on nature; that all which is meant by the word nature cannot give life--namely, that all the faculties of matter, added to all possible circumstances, and even to the activity pervading the universe, cannot produce a being endowed with the power of organic movement, capable of reproducing its like, and subject to death. " . all the individuals of this nature which exist are derived from similar individuals, which, all taken together, constitute the entire species. however, i believe that it is as impossible for man to know the physical origin of the first individual of each species as to assign also physically the cause of the existence of matter or of the whole universe. this is at least what the result of my knowledge and reflection leads me to think. if there exist any varieties produced by the action of circumstances, these varieties do not change the nature of the species (_ces variétés ne dénaturent point les espèces_); but doubtless we are often deceived in indicating as a species what is only a variety; and i perceive that this error may be of consequence in reasoning on this subject" (tome ii., pp.  - ). it must apparently remain a matter of uncertainty whether this opinion, so decisively stated, was that of lamarck at thirty-two years of age, and which he allowed to remain, as then stated, for eighteen years, or whether he inserted it when reading the proofs in . it would seem as if it were the expression of his views when a botanist and a young man. in his _mémoires de physique et d'histoire naturelle_, which was published in , there is nothing said bearing on the stability of species, and though his work is largely a repetition of the _recherches_, the author omits the passages quoted above. was this period of six years, between and , given to a reconsideration of the subject resulting in favor of the doctrine of descent? huxley quotes these passages, and then in a footnote (p.  ), after stating that lamarck's _recherches_ was not published before , and stating that at that time it presumably expressed lamarck's mature views, adds: "it would be interesting to know what brought about the change of opinion manifested in the _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_, published only seven years later." in the appendix to this book ( ) he thus refers to his change of views: "i have for a long time thought that _species_ were constant in nature, and that they were constituted by the individuals which belong to each of them. i am now convinced that i was in error in this respect, and that in reality only individuals exist in nature" (p.  ). some clew in answer to the question as to when lamarck changed his views is afforded by an almost casual statement by lamarck in the addition entitled _sur les fossiles_ to his _système des animaux sans vertèbres_ ( ), where, after speaking of fossils as extremely valuable monuments for the study of the revolutions the earth has passed through at different regions on its surface, and of the changes living beings have there themselves successively undergone, he adds in parenthesis: "_dans mes leçons j'ai toujours insiste sur ces considérations._" are we to infer from this that these evolutionary views were expressed in his first course, or in one of the earlier courses of zoölogical lectures--_i.e._, soon after his appointment in --and if not then, at least one or two, or perhaps several, years before the year ? for even if the change in his views were comparatively sudden, he must have meditated upon the subject for months and even, perhaps, years, before finally committing himself to these views in print. so strong and bold a thinker as lamarck had already shown himself in these fields of thought, and one so inflexible and unyielding in holding to an opinion once formed as he, must have arrived at such views only after long reflection. there is also every reason to suppose that lamarck's theory of descent was conceived by himself alone, from the evidence which lay before him in the plants and animals he had so well studied for the preceding thirty years, and that his inspiration came directly from nature and not from buffon, and least of all from the writings of erasmus darwin. footnotes: [ ] see the comparative summary of the views of the founders of evolution at the end of chapter xvii. [ ] while rousseau was living at montmorency "his thought wandered confusedly round the notion of a treatise to be called 'sensitive morality or the materialism of the age,' the object of which was to examine the influence of external agencies, such as light, darkness, sound, seasons, food, noise, silence, motion, rest, on our corporeal machine, and thus, indirectly, upon the soul also."--_rousseau_, by john morley (p.  ). [ ] butler's _evolution, old and new_ (p.  ), and isidore geoffroy st. hilaire's _histoire naturelle générale_, tome ii., p.  ( ). [ ] after looking in vain through both volumes of the _recherches_ for some expression of lamarck's earlier views, i found a mention of it in osborn's _from the greeks to darwin_, p.  , and reference to huxley's _evolution in biology_, ("darwiniana," p.  ), where the paragraphs translated above are quoted in the original. chapter xvi the steps in the development of lamarck's views on evolution before the publication of his _philosophie zoologique_ i. _from the système des animaux sans vertèbres_ ( ). the first occasion on which, so far as his published writings show, lamarck expressed his evolutional views was in the opening lecture[ ] of his course on the invertebrate animals delivered in the spring of , and published in as a preface to his _système des animaux sans vertèbres_, this being the first sketch or prodromus of his later great work on the invertebrate animals. in the preface of this book, referring to the opening lecture, he says: "i have glanced at some important and philosophic views that the nature and limits of this work do not permit me to develop, but which i propose to take up elsewhere with the details necessary to show on what facts they are based, and with certain explanations which would prevent any one from misunderstanding them." it may be inferred from this that he had for some time previous meditated on this theme. it will now be interesting to see what factors of evolution lamarck employed in this first sketch of his theory. after stating the distinctions existing between the vertebrate and invertebrate animals, and referring to the great diversity of animal forms, he goes on to say that nature began with the most simply organized, and having formed them, "then with the aid of much time and of favorable circumstances she formed all the others." "it appears, as i have already said, that _time_ and _favorable conditions_ are the two principal means which nature has employed in giving existence to all her productions. we know that for her time has no limit, and that consequently she has it always at her disposal. "as to the circumstances of which she has had need and of which she makes use every day in order to cause her productions to vary, we can say that they are in a manner inexhaustible. "the essential ones arise from the influence and from all the environing media (_milieux_), from the diversity of local causes (_diversité des lieux_), of habits, of movements, of action, finally of means of living, of preserving their lives, of defending themselves, of multiplying themselves, etc. moreover, as the result of these different influences the faculties, developed and strengthened by use (_usage_), became diversified by the new habits maintained for long ages, and by slow degrees the structure, the consistence, in a word the nature, the condition of the parts and of the organs consequently participating in all these influences, became preserved and were propagated by generation.[ ] "the bird which necessity (_besoin_) drives to the water to find there the prey needed for its subsistence separates the toes of its feet when it wishes to strike the water[ ] and move on its surface. the skin, which unites these toes at their base, contracts in this way the habit of extending itself. thus in time the broad membranes which connect the toes of ducks, geese, etc., are formed in the way indicated. "but one accustomed to live perched on trees has necessarily the end of the toes lengthened and shaped in another way. its claws are elongated, sharpened, and are curved and bent so as to seize the branches on which it so often rests. "likewise we perceive that the shore bird, which does not care to swim, but which, however, is obliged (a _besoin_) to approach the water to obtain its prey, will be continually in danger of sinking in the mud, but wishing to act so that its body shall not fall into the liquid, it will contract the habit of extending and lengthening its feet. hence it will result in the generations of these birds which continue to live in this manner, that the individuals will find themselves raised as if on stilts, on long naked feet; namely, denuded of feathers up to and often above the thighs. "i could here pass in review all the classes, all the orders, all the genera and species of animals which exist, and make it apparent that the conformation of individuals and of their parts, their organs, their faculties, etc., is entirely the result of circumstances to which the race of each species has been subjected by nature. "i could prove that it is not the form either of the body or of its parts which gives rise to habits, to the mode of life of animals, but, on the contrary, it is the habits, the mode of life, and all the influential circumstances which have, with time, made up the form of the body and of the parts of animals. with the new forms new faculties have been acquired, and gradually nature has reached the state in which we actually see her" (pp.  - ). he then points out the gradation which exists from the most simple animal up to the most composite, since from the monad, which, so to speak, is only an animated point, up to the mammals, and from them up to man, there is evidently a shaded gradation in the structure of all the animals. so also among the plants there is a graduated series from the simplest, such as _mucor viridescens_, up to the most complicated plant. but he hastens to say that by this regular gradation in the complication of the organization he does not mean to infer the existence of a linear series, with regular intervals between the species and genera: "such a series does not exist; but i speak of a series almost regularly graduated in the principal groups (_masses_) such as the great families; series most assuredly existing, both among animals and among plants, but which, as regards genera and especially species, form in many places lateral ramifications, whose extremities offer truly isolated points." this is the first time in the history of biological science that we have stated in so scientific, broad, and modern form the essential principles of evolution. lamarck insists that time without limit and favorable conditions are the two principal means or factors in the production of plants and animals. under the head of favorable conditions he enumerates variations in climate, temperature, the action of the environment, the diversity of local causes, change of habits, movement, action, variation in means of living, of preservation of life, of means of defence, and varying modes of reproduction. as the result of the action of these different factors, the faculties of animals, developed and strengthened by use, become diversified by the new habits, so that by slow degrees the new structures and organs thus arising become preserved and transmitted by heredity. in this address it should be noticed that nothing is said of willing and of internal feeling, which have been so much misunderstood and ridiculed, or of the direct or indirect action of the environment. he does speak of the bird as wishing to strike the water, but this, liberally interpreted, is as much a physiological impulse as a mental desire. no reference also is made to geographical isolation, a factor which he afterwards briefly mentioned. although lamarck does not mention the principle of selection, he refers in the following way to competition, or at least to the checks on the too rapid multiplication of the lower invertebrates: "so were it not for the immense consumption as food which is made in nature of animals which compose the lower orders of the animal kingdom, these animals would soon overpower and perhaps destroy, by their enormous numbers, the more highly organized and perfect animals which compose the first classes and the first orders of this kingdom, so great is the difference in the means and facility of multiplying between the two. "but nature has anticipated the dangerous effects of this vast power of reproduction and multiplication. she has prevented it on the one hand by considerably limiting the duration of life of these beings so simply organized which compose the lower classes, and especially the lowest orders of the animal kingdom. on the other hand, both by making these animals the prey of each other, thus incessantly reducing their numbers, and also by determining through the diversity of climates the localities where they could exist, and by the variety of seasons--_i.e._, by the influences of different atmospheric conditions--the time during which they could maintain their existence. "by means of these wise precautions of nature everything is well balanced and in order. individuals multiply, propagate, and die in different ways. no species predominates up to the point of effecting the extinction of another, except, perhaps, in the highest classes, where the multiplication of the individuals is slow and difficult; and as the result of this state of things we conceive that in general species are preserved" (p.  ). here we have in anticipation the doctrine of malthus, which, as will be remembered, so much impressed charles darwin, and led him in part to work out his principle of natural selection. the author then taking up other subjects, first asserts that among the changes that animals and plants unceasingly bring about by their production and _débris_, it is not the largest and most perfect animals which have caused the most considerable changes, but rather the coral polyps, etc.[ ] he then, after dilating on the value of the study of the invertebrate animals, proceeds to define them, and closes his lecture by describing the seven classes into which he divides this group. ii. _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans, (opening discourse)._ the following is an abstract with translations of the most important passages relating to evolution: that the portion of the animal kingdom treated in these lectures comprises more species than all the other groups taken together is, however, the least of those considerations which should interest my hearers. "it is the group containing the most curious forms, the richest in marvels of every kind, the most astonishing, especially from the singular facts of organization that they present, though it is that hitherto the least considered under these grand points of view. "how much better than learning the names and characters of all the species is it to learn of the origin, relation, and mode of existence of all the natural productions with which we are surrounded. "_first part: progress in structure of living beings in proportion as circumstances favor them._ "when we give continued attention to the examination of the organization of different living beings, to that of different systems which this organization presents in each organic kingdom, finally to certain changes which are seen to be undergone in certain circumstances, we are convinced: " . that the nature of organic movement is not only to develop the organization but also to multiply the organs and to fulfil the functions, and that at the outset this organic movement continually tends to restrict to functions special to certain parts the functions which were at first general--_i.e._, common to all parts of the body; " . that the result of _nutrition_ is not only to supply to the developing organization what the organic movement tends to form, but besides, also by a forced inequality between the matters which are assimilated and those which are dissipated by losses, this function at a certain term of the duration of life causes a progressive deterioration of the organs, so that as a necessary consequence it inevitably causes death; " . that the property of the movement of the fluids in the parts which contain them is to break out passages, places of deposit, and outlets; to there create canals and consequently different organs; to cause these canals, as well as the organs, to vary on account of the diversity both of the movements and of the nature of the fluids which give rise to them; finally to enlarge, elongate, to gradually divide and solidify [the walls of] these canals and these organs by the matters which form and incessantly separate the fluids which are there in movement, and one part of which is assimilated and added to the organs, while the other is rejected and cast out; " . that the state of organization in each organism has been gradually acquired by the progress of the influences of the movement of fluids, and by those changes that these fluids have there continually undergone in their nature and their condition through the habitual succession of their losses and of their renewals; " . that each organization and each form acquired by this course of things and by the circumstances which there have concurred, were preserved and transmitted successively by generation [heredity] until new modifications of these organizations and of these forms have been acquired by the same means and by new circumstances; " . finally, that from the uninterrupted concurrence of these causes or from these laws of nature, together with much time and with an almost inconceivable diversity of influential circumstances, organic beings of all the orders have been successively formed. "considerations so extraordinary, relatively to the ideas that the vulgar have generally formed on the nature and origin of living bodies, will be naturally regarded by you as stretches of the imagination unless i hasten to lay before you some observations and facts which supply the most complete evidence. "from the point of view of knowledge based on observation the philosophic naturalist feels convinced that it is in that which is called the lowest classes of the two organic kingdoms--_i.e._, in those which comprise the most simply organized beings--that we can collect facts the most luminous and observations the most decisive on the _production_ and the reproduction of the living beings in question; on the causes of the formation of the organs of these wonderful beings; and on those of their developments, of their diversity and their multiplicity, which increase with the concourse of generations, of times, and of influential circumstances. "hence we may be assured that it is only among the singular beings of these lowest classes, and especially in the lowest orders of these classes, that it is possible to find on both sides the primitive germs of life, and consequently the germs of the most important faculties of animality and vegetality." _modification of the organization from one end to the other of the animal chain._ "one is forced," he says, "to recognize that the totality of existing animals constitute _a series of groups_ forming a true chain, and that there exists from one end to the other of this chain a gradual modification in the structure of the animals composing it, as also a proportionate diminution in the number of faculties of these animals from the highest to the lowest (the first germs), these being without doubt the form with which nature began, with the aid of much time and favorable circumstances, to form all the others." he then begins with the mammals and descends to molluscs, annelids, and insects, down to the polyps, "as it is better to proceed from the known to the unknown;" but farther on (p.  ) he finally remarks: "ascend from the most simple to the most compound, depart from the most imperfect animalcule and ascend along the scale up to the animal richest in structure and faculties; constantly preserve the order of relation in the group, then you will hold the true thread which connects all the productions of nature; you will have a just idea of its progress, and you will be convinced that the most simple of its living productions have successively given existence to all the others. "_the series which constitutes the animal scale resides in the distribution of the groups, and not in that of the individuals and species._ "i have already said[ ] that by this shaded graduation in the complication of structure i do not mean to speak of the existence of a linear and regular series of species or even genera: such a series does not exist. but i speak of a quite regularly graduated series in the principal groups, _i.e._, in the principal system of organizations known, which give rise to classes and to great families, series most assuredly existing both among animals and plants, although in the consideration of genera, and especially in that of species, it offers many lateral ramifications whose extremities are truly isolated points. "however, although there has been denied, in a very modern work, the existence in the animal kingdom of a single series, natural and at the same time graduated, in the composition of the organization of beings which it comprehends, series in truth necessarily formed of groups subordinated to each other as regards structure and not of isolated species or genera, i ask where is the well-informed naturalist who would now present a different order in the arrangement of the twelve classes of the animal kingdom of which i have just given an account? "i have already stated what i think of this view, which has seemed sublime to some moderns, and indorsed by _professor hermann_." each distinct group or mass of forms has, he says, its peculiar system of essential organs, but each organ considered by itself does not follow as regular a course in its degradations (modifications). "indeed, the least important organs, or those least essential to life, are not always in relation to each other in their improvement or their degradation; and an organ which in one species is atrophied may be very perfect in another. these irregular variations in the perfecting and in the degradation of non-essential organs are due to the fact that these organs are oftener than the others submitted to the influences of external circumstances, and give rise to a diversity of species so considerable and so singularly ordered that instead of being able to arrange them, like the groups, in a single simple linear series under the form of a regular graduated scale, these very species often form around the groups of which they are part lateral ramifications, the extremities of which offer points truly isolated. "there is needed, in order to change each internal system of organization, a combination of more influential circumstances, and of more prolonged duration than to alter and modify the external organs. "i have observed, however, that, when circumstances demand, nature passes from one system to another without making a leap, provided they are allies. it is, indeed, by this faculty that she has come to form them all in succession, in proceeding from the simple to the more complex. "it is so true that she has the power, that she passes from one system to the other, not only in two different families which are allied, but she also passes from one system to the other in the same individual. "the systems of organization which admit as organs of respiration true lungs are nearer to systems which admit gills than those which require tracheæ. thus not only does nature pass from gills to lungs in allied classes and families, as seen in fishes and reptiles, but in the latter she passes even during the life of the same individual, which successively possesses each system. we know that the frog in the tadpole state respires by gills, while in the more perfect state of frog it respires by lungs. we never see that nature passes from a system with tracheæ to a system with lungs. "_it is not the organs, i.e., the nature and form of the parts of the body of an animal, which give rise to the special habits and faculties, but, on the contrary, its habits, its mode of life, and the circumstances in which individuals are placed, which have, with time, brought about the form of its body, the number and condition of its organs, finally the faculties which it possesses._ * * * * * "time and favorable circumstances are the two principal means which nature employs to give existence to all her productions. we know that time has for her no limit, and that consequently she has it always at her disposition. "as to the circumstances of which she has need (_besoin_) and which she employs every day to bring about variations in all that she continues to produce, we can say that they are in her in some degree inexhaustible. "the principal ones arise from the influence of climate, from that of different temperatures, of the atmosphere, and from all environing surroundings (_milieux_); from that of the diversity of places and their situations; from that of the most ordinary habitual movements, of actions the most frequent; finally from that of the means of preservation, of the mode of life, of defence, of reproduction, etc. "moreover, as the result of these different influences the faculties increase and strengthen themselves by use, diversify themselves by the new habits preserved through long periods, and insensibly the conformation, the consistence--in a word, the nature and state of the parts and also of the organs--consequently participate in all these influences, are preserved and propagate themselves by generation" (_système des animaux sans vertèbres_, p.  ). * * * * * "it is easy for any one to see that the habit of exercising an organ in every living being which has not reached the term of diminution of its faculties not only makes this organ more perfect, but even makes it acquire developments and dimensions which insensibly change it, with the result that with time it renders it very different from the same organ considered in another organism which has not, or has but slightly, exercised it. it is also very easy to prove that the constant lack of exercise of an organ gradually reduces it and ends by atrophying it." then follow the facts regarding the mole, spalax, ant-eater, and the lack of teeth in birds, the origin of shore birds, swimming birds and perching birds, which are stated farther on. "thus the efforts in any direction, maintained for a long time or made habitually by certain parts of a living body, to satisfy the needs called out (_exigés_) by nature or by circumstances, develop these parts and cause them to acquire dimensions and a form which they never would have obtained if these efforts had not become an habitual action of the animals which have exercised them. observations made on all the animals known would furnish examples of this. "when the will determines an animal to any kind of action, the organs whose function it is to execute this action are then immediately provoked by the flowing there of subtile fluids, which become the determining cause of movements which perform the action in question. a multitude of observations support this fact, which now no one would doubt. "it results from this that multiplied repetitions of these acts of organization strengthen, extend, develop, and even create the organs which are there needed. it is only necessary to closely observe that which is everywhere happening in this respect to firmly convince ourselves of this cause of developments and organic changes. "however, each change acquired in an organ by habitual use sufficient to have formed (_opéré_) it is preserved by generation, if it is common to the individuals which unite in the reproduction of their kind. finally, this change propagates itself and is then handed down (_se passe_) to all the individuals which succeed and which are submitted to the same circumstances, without their having been obliged to acquire it by the means which have really created it. "besides, in the unions between the sexes the intermixtures between individuals which have different qualities or forms are necessarily opposed to the constant propagation of these qualities and forms. we see that which in man, who is exposed to such different circumstances which influence individuals, prevents the qualities of accidental defects which they have happened to acquire from being preserved and propagated by heredity (_génération_). "you can now understand how, by such means and an inexhaustible diversity of circumstances, nature, with sufficient length of time, has been able to and should produce all these results. "if i should choose here to pass in review all the classes, orders, genera, and species of animals in existence i could make you see that the structure of individuals and their organs, faculties, etc., is solely the result of circumstances to which each species and all its races have been subjected by nature, and of habits that the individuals of this species have been obliged to contract. "the influences of localities and of temperatures are so striking that naturalists have not hesitated to recognize the effects on the structure, the developments, and the faculties of the living bodies subject to them. "we have long known that the animals inhabiting the torrid zone are very different from those which live in the other zones. buffon has remarked that even in latitudes almost the same the animals of the new continent are not the same as those of the old. "finally the count lacépède, wishing to give to this well-founded fact the precision which he believed it susceptible, has traced twenty-six zoölogical divisions on the dry parts of the globe, and eighteen over the ocean; but there are many other influences than those which depend on localities and temperatures. "everything tends, then, to prove my assertion--namely, that it is not the form either of the body or of its parts which has given rise to habits and to the mode of life of animals, but, on the contrary, it is the habits, the mode of life, and all the other influential circumstances which have with time produced the form of the bodies and organs of animals. with new forms new faculties have been acquired, and gradually nature has arrived at the state where we actually see it. * * * * * "finally as it is only at that extremity of the animal kingdom where occur the most simply organized animals that we meet those which may be regarded as the true germs of animality, and it is the same at the same end of the vegetable series; is it not at this end of the scale, both animal and vegetable, that nature has commenced and recommenced without ceasing the first germ of her living production? who is there, in a word, who does not see that the process of perfection of those of these first germs which circumstances have favored will gradually and after the lapse of time give rise to all the degrees of perfection and of the composition of the organization, from which will result this multiplicity and this diversity of living beings of all orders with which the exterior surface of our globe is almost everywhere filled or covered? "indeed, if the manner (_usage_) of life tends to develop the organization, and even to form and multiply the organs, as the state of an animal which has just been born proves it, compared to that where it finds itself when it has reached the term where its organs (beginning to deteriorate) cease to make new developments; if, then, each particular organ undergoes remarkable changes, according as it is exercised and according to the manner of which i have shown you some examples, you will understand that in carrying you to the end of the animal chain where are found the most simple organizations, and that in considering among these organizations those whose simplicity is so great that they lie at the very door of the creative power of nature, then this same nature--that is to say, the state of things which exist--has been to form directly the first beginnings of organization; she has been able, consequently, by the manner of life and the aid of circumstances which favor its duration, to progressively render perfect its work, and to carry it to the point where we now see it. "time is wanting to present to you the series of results of my researches on this interesting subject, and to develop-- " . what really is life. " . how nature herself creates the first traces of organization in appropriate groups where it had not existed. " . how the organic or vital movement is excited by it and held together with the aid of a stimulating and active cause which she has at her disposal in abundance in certain climates and in certain seasons of the year. " . finally, how this organic movement, by the influence of its duration and by that of the multitude of circumstances which modify its effects, develops, arranges, and gradually complicates the organs of the living body which possesses them. "such has been without doubt the will of the infinite wisdom which reigns throughout nature; and such is effectively the order of things clearly indicated by the observation of all the facts which relate to them." (end of the opening discourse.) appendix (p.  ). _on species in living bodies._ "i have for a long time thought that _species_ were constant in nature, and that they were constituted by the individuals which belong to each of them. "i am now convinced that i was in error in this respect, and that in reality only individuals exist in nature. "the origin of this error, which i have shared with many naturalists who still hold it, arises from _the long duration_, in relation to us, _of the same state of things_ in each place which each organism inhabits; but this duration of the same state of things for each place has its limits, and with much time it makes changes in each point of the surface of the globe, which produces changes in every kind of circumstances for the organisms which inhabit it. "indeed, we may now be assured that nothing on the surface of the terrestrial globe remains in the same state. everything, after a while, undergoes different changes, more or less prompt, according to the nature of the objects and of circumstances. elevated areas are constantly being lowered, and the loose material carried down to the lowlands. the beds of rivers, of streams, of even the sea, are gradually removed and changed, as also the climate;[ ] in a word, the whole surface of the earth gradually undergoes a change in situation, form, nature, and aspect. we see on every hand what ascertained facts prove; it is only necessary to observe and to give one's attention to be convinced of it. "however, if, relatively to living beings, the diversity of circumstances brings about for them a diversity of habits, a different mode of existence, and, as the result, modifications in their organs and in the shape of their parts, one should believe that very gradually every living body whatever would vary in its organization and its form. "all the modifications that each living being will have undergone as the result of change of circumstances which have influenced its nature will doubtless be propagated by heredity (_génération_). but as new modifications will necessarily continue to operate, however slowly, not only will there continually be found new species, new genera, and even new orders, but each species will vary in some part of its structure and its form. "i very well know that to our eyes there seems in this respect a _stability_ which we believe to be constant, although it is not so truly; for a very great number of centuries may form a period insufficient for the changes of which i speak to be marked enough for us to appreciate them. thus we say that the flamingo (_phoenicopterus_) has always had as long legs and as long a neck as have those with which we are familiar; finally, it is said that all animals whose history has been transmitted for , or , years are always the same, and have lost or acquired nothing in the process of perfection of their organs and in the form of their different parts. we may be assured that this appearance of _stability_ of things in nature will always be taken for reality by the average of mankind, because in general it judges everything only relatively to itself. "but, i repeat, this consideration which has given rise to the admitted error owes its source to the very great slowness of the changes which have gone on. a little attention given to the facts which i am about to cite will afford the strongest proof of my assertion. "what nature does after a great length of time we do every day by suddenly changing, as regards a living being, the circumstances in which it and all the individuals of its species are placed. "all botanists know that the plants which they transplant from their natal spot into gardens for cultivation there gradually undergo changes which in the end render them unrecognizable. many plants naturally very hairy, there become glabrous or nearly so; a quantity of those which were procumbent or trailing there have erect stems; others lose their spines or their thorns; finally, the dimensions of parts undergo changes which the circumstances of their new situation infallibly produce. this is so well known that botanists prefer not to describe them, at least unless they are newly cultivated. is not wheat (_triticum sativum_) a plant brought by man to the state wherein we actually see it, which otherwise i could not believe? who can now say in what place its like lives in nature? "to these known facts i will add others still more remarkable, and which confirm the view that change of circumstances operates to change the parts of living organisms. "when _ranunculus aquatilis_ lives in deep water, all it can do while growing is to make the end of its stalks reach the surface of the water where they flourish. then all the leaves of the plant are finely cut or pinked.[ ] if the same plant grows in shallower water the growth of its stalks may give them sufficient extent for the upper leaves to develop out of the water; then its lower leaves only will be divided into hair-like joints, while the upper ones will be simple, rounded, and a little lobed.[ ] this is not all: when the seeds of the same plant fall into some ditch where there is only water or moisture sufficient to make them germinate, the plant develops all its leaves in the air, and then none of them is divided into capillary points, which gives rise to _ranunculus hederaceus_, which botanists regard as a species. "another very striking proof of the effect of a change of circumstances on a plant submitted to it is the following: "it is observed that when a tuft of _juncus bufonius_ grows very near the edge of the water in a ditch or marsh this rush then pushes out filiform stems which lie in the water, are there deformed, becoming disturbed (_traçantes_), proliferous, and very different from that of _juncus bufonius_ which grows out of water. this plant, modified by the circumstances i have just indicated, has been regarded as a distinct species; it is the _juncus supinus_ of rotte.[ ] "i could also give citations to prove that the changes of circumstances relative to organisms necessarily change the influences which they undergo on the part of all that which environs them or which acts on them, and so necessarily bring about changes in their size, their shape, their different organs. "then among living beings nature seems to me to offer in an absolute manner only individuals which succeed one another by generation. "however, in order to facilitate the study and recognition of these organisms, i give the name of _species_ to every collection of individuals which during a long period resemble each other so much in all their parts that these individuals only present small accidental differences which, in plants, reproduction by seeds causes to disappear. "but, besides that at the end of a long period the totality of individuals of such a species change as the circumstances which act on them, those of these individuals which from special causes are transported into very different situations from those where the others occur, and then constantly submitted to other influences--the former, i say, assume new forms as the result of a long habit of this other mode of existence, and then they constitute a new _species_, which comprehends all the individuals which occur in the same condition of existence. we see, then, the faithful picture of that which happened in this respect in nature, and of that which the observation of its acts can alone discover to us." iii. _lamarck's views on species, as published in ._ in the opening lecture[ ] of his course at the museum of natural history, delivered in prairial (may  -june  ), , we have a further statement of the theoretical views of lamarck on species and their origin. he addresses his audience as "citoyens," france still being under the _régime_ of the republic. the brochure containing this address is exceedingly rare, the only copy existing, as far as we know, being in the library of the museum of natural history in paris. the author's name is not even given, and there is no imprint. lamarck's name, however, is written on the outside of the cover of the copy we have translated. at the end of the otherwise blank page succeeding the last page (p.  ) is printed the words: _esquisse d'un philosophie zoologique_, the preliminary sketch, however, never having been added. he begins by telling his hearers that they should not desire to burden their memories with the infinite details and immense nomenclature of the prodigious quantity of animals among which we distinguish an illimitable number of species, "but what is more worthy of you, and of more educational value, you should seek to know the course of nature." "you may enter upon the study of classes, orders, genera, and even of the most interesting species, because this would be useful to you; but you should never forget that all these subdivisions, which could not, however, be well spared, are artificial, and that nature does not recognize any of them." "in the opening lecture of my last year's course i tried to convince you that it is only in the organization of animals that we find the foundation of the natural relations between the different groups, where they diverge and where they approach each other. finally, i tried to show you that the enormous series of animals which nature has produced presents, from that of its extremities where are placed the most perfect animals, down to that which comprises the most imperfect, or the most simple, an evident modification, though irregularly defined (_nuancé_), in the structure of the organization. "to-day, after having recalled some of the essential considerations which form the base of this great truth; after having shown you the principal means by which nature is enabled to create (_opérer_) her innumerable productions and to vary them infinitely; finally, after having made you see that in the use she has made of her power of generating and multiplying living beings she has necessarily proceeded from the more simple to the more complex, gradually complicating the organization of these bodies, as also the composition of their substance, while also in that which she has done on non-living bodies she has occupied herself unremittingly in the destruction of all preëxistent combinations, i shall undertake to examine under your eyes the great question in natural history--what is a _species_ among organized beings? "when we consider the series of animals, beginning at the end comprising the most perfect and complicated, and passing down through all the degrees of this series to the other end, we see a very evident modification in structure and faculties. on the contrary, if we begin with the end which comprises animals the most simple in organization, the poorest in faculties and in organs--in a word, the most imperfect in all respects--we necessarily remark, as we gradually ascend in the series, a truly progressive complication in the organization of these different animals, and we see the organs and faculties of these beings successively multiplying and diversifying in a most remarkable manner. "these facts once known present truths which are, to some extent, eternal; for nothing here is the product of our imagination or of our arbitrary principles; that which i have just explained rests neither on systems nor on any hypothesis: it is only the very simple result of the observation of nature; hence i do not fear to advance the view that all that one can imagine, from any motives whatever, to contradict these great verities will always be destroyed by the evidence of the facts with which it deals. "to these facts it is necessary to add these very important considerations, which observation has led me to perceive, and the basis of which will always be recognized by those who pay attention to them; they are as follows: "firstly, the exercise of life, and consequently of organic movement, constitutes its activity, tends, without ceasing, not only to develop and to extend the organization, but it tends besides to multiply the organs and to isolate them in special centres (_foyers_). to make sure whether the exercise of life tends to extend and develop the organization, it suffices to consider the state of the organs of any animal which has just been born, and to compare them in this condition with what they are when the animal has attained the period when its organs cease to receive any new development. then we will see on what this organic law is based, which i have published in my _recherches sur les corps vivans_ (p.  ), _i.e._, that-- "'the special property of movement of fluids in the supple parts of the living body which contain them is to open (_frayer_) there routes, places of deposit and tissues; to create there canals, and consequently different organs; to cause these canals and these organs to vary there by reason of the diversity both of the movements as well as the nature of the fluids which occur there; finally to enlarge, to elongate, to divide and to gradually strengthen (_affermir_) these canals and their organs by the matters which are formed in the fluids in motion, which incessantly separate themselves, and a part of which is assimilated and united with organs while the rest is rejected.' "secondly, the continual employment of an organ, especially if it is strongly exercised, strengthens this organ, develops it, increases its dimensions, enlarges and extends its faculties. "this second law of effects of exercise of life has been understood for a long time by those observers who have paid attention to the phenomena of organization. "indeed, we know that all the time that an organ, or a system of organs, is rigorously exercised throughout a long time, not only its power, and the parts which form it, grow and strengthen themselves, but there are proofs that this organ, or system of organs, at that time attracts to itself the principal active forces of the life of the individual, because it becomes the cause which, under these conditions, makes the functions of other organs to be diminished in power. "thus not only every organ or every part of the body, whether of man or of animals, being for a long period and more vigorously exercised than the others, has acquired a power and facility of action that the same organ could not have had before, and that it has never had in individuals which have exercised less, but also we consequently remark that the excessive employment of this organ diminishes the functions of the others and proportionately enfeebles them. "the man who habitually and vigorously exercises the organ of his intelligence develops and acquires a great facility of attention, of aptitude for thought, etc., but he has a feeble stomach and strongly limited muscular powers. he, on the contrary, who thinks little does not easily, and then only momentarily fixes his attention, while habitually giving much exercise to his muscular organs, has much vigor, possesses an excellent digestion, and is not given to the abstemiousness of the savant and man of letters. "moreover, when one exercises long and vigorously an organ or system of organs, the active forces of life (in my opinion, the nervous fluid) have taken such a habit of acting (_porter_) towards this organ that they have formed in the individual an inclination to continue to exercise which it is difficult for it to overcome. "hence it happens that the more we exercise an organ, the more we use it with facility, the more does it result that we perceive the need (_besoin_) of continuing to use it at the times when it is placed in action. so we remark that the habit of study, of application, of work, or of any other exercise of our organs or of any one of our organs, becomes with time an indispensable need to the individual, and often a passion which it does not know how to overcome. "thirdly, finally, the effort made by necessity to obtain new faculties is aided by the concurrence of favorable circumstances; they create (_créent_) with time the new organs which are adapted (_propres_) to their faculties, and which as the result develop after long use (_qu'en suite un long emploi développe_). "how important is this consideration, and what light it spreads on the state of organization of the different animals now living! "assuredly it will not be those who have long been in the habit of observing nature, and who have followed attentively that which happens to living individuals (to animals and to plants), who will deny that a great change in the circumstances of their situation and of their means of existence forces them and their race to adopt new habits; it will not be those, i say, who attempt to contest the foundation of the consideration which i have just exposed. "they can readily convince themselves of the solidity of that which i have already published in this respect.[ ] "i have felt obliged to recall to you these great considerations, a sketch of which i traced for you last year, and which i have stated for the most part in my different works, because they serve, as you have seen, as a solution of the problem which interests so many naturalists, and which concerns the determination of _species_ among living bodies. "indeed, if in ascending in the series of animals from the most simply organized animalcule, as from the monad, which seems to be only an animated point, up to the animals the most perfect, or whose structure is the most complicated--in a word, up to animals with mammæ--you observe in the different orders which comprise this great series a gradation, shaded (_nuancé_), although irregular, in the composition of the organization and in the increasing number of faculties, is it not evident that in the case where nature would exert some active power on the existence of these organized bodies she has been able to make them exist only by beginning with the most simple, and that she has been able to form directly among the animals only that which i call the rough sketches or germs (_ébauches_) of animality--that is to say, only these animalcules, almost invisible and to some extent without consistence, that we see develop spontaneously and in an astonishing abundance in certain places and under certain circumstances, while only in contrary circumstances are they totally destroyed? "do we not therefore perceive that by the action of the laws of organization, which i have just now indicated, and by that of different means of multiplication which are due to them (_qui en dérivent_), nature has in favorable times, places, and climates multiplied her first germs (_ébauches_) of animality, given place to developments of their organizations, rendered gradually greater the duration of those which have originally descended from them, and increased and diversified their organs? then always preserving the progress acquired by the reproductions of individuals and the succession of generations, and aided by much time and by a slow but constant diversity of circumstances, she has gradually brought about in this respect the state of things which we now observe. "how grand is this consideration, and especially how remote is it from all that is generally thought on this subject! moreover, the astonishment which its novelty and its singularity may excite in you requires that at first you should suspend your judgment in regard to it. but the observation which establishes it is now on record (_consignée_), and the facts which support it exist and are incessantly renewed; however, as they open a vast field to your studies and to your own researches, it is to you yourselves that i appeal to pronounce on this great subject when you have sufficiently examined and followed all the facts which relate to it. "if among living bodies there are any the consideration of whose organization and of the phenomena which they produce can enlighten us as to the power of nature and its course relatively to the existence of these bodies, also as to the variations which they undergo, we certainly have to seek for them in the lowest classes of the two organic kingdoms (the animals and the plants). it is in the classes which comprise the living bodies whose organization is the least complex that we can observe and bring together facts the most luminous, observations the most decisive on the origin of these bodies, on their reproduction and their admirable diversification, finally on the formation and the development of their different organs, the whole process being aided by the concurrence of generations, of time, and of circumstances. "it is, indeed, among living bodies the most multiplied, the most numerous in nature, the most prompt and easy to regenerate themselves, that we should seek the most instructive facts bearing on the course of nature and on the means she has employed to create her innumerable productions. in this case we perceive that, relatively to the animal kingdom, we should chiefly give our attention to the invertebrate animals, because their enormous multiplicity in nature, the singular diversity of their systems of organization and of their means of multiplication, their increasing simplification, and the extreme fugacity of those which compose the lowest orders of these animals, show us much better than the others the true course of nature, and the means which she has used and which she is still incessantly employing to give existence to all the living bodies of which we have knowledge. "her course and her means are without doubt the same for the production of the different plants which exist. and, indeed, though it is not believed, as some naturalists have wrongly held, but without proof, that plants are bodies more simple in organization than the most simple animals, it is a veritable error which observation plainly denies. "truly, vegetable substance is less surcharged with constituent principles than any animal substance whatever, or at least most of them, but the substance of a living body and the organization of these bodies are two very different things. but there is in plants, as in animals, a true gradation in organization from the plant simplest in organization and parts up to plants the most complex in structure and with the most diversified organs. "if there is some approach, or at least some comparison to make between vegetables and animals, this can only be by opposing plants the most simply organized, like fungi and algæ, to the most imperfect animals like the polyps, and especially the amorphous polyps, which occur in the lowest order. "at present we clearly see that in order to bring about the existence of animals of all the classes, of all the orders, and of all the genera, nature has had to begin by giving existence to those which are the most simple in organization and lacking most in organs and faculties, the frailest in constituency, the most ephemeral, the quickest and easiest to multiply; and we shall find in the _amorphous_ or _microscopic polyps_ the most striking examples of this simplification of organization, and the indication that it is solely among them that occur the astonishing germs of animality. "at present we only know the principal law of the organization, the power of the exercise of the functions of life, the influence of the movement of fluids in the supple parts of organic bodies, and the power which the regenerations have of conserving the progress acquired in the composition of organs. "at present, finally, relying on numerous observations, seeing that with the aid of much time, of changes in local circumstances, in climates, and consequently in the habits of animals, the progression in the complication of their organization and in the diversity of their parts has gradually operated (_a dû s'opérer_) in a way that all the animals now known have been successively formed such as we now see them, it becomes possible to find the solution of the following question: "what is a _species_ among living beings? "all those who have much to do with the study of natural history know that naturalists at the present day are extremely embarrassed in defining what they mean by the word species. "in truth, observation for a long time has shown us, and shows us still in a great number of cases, collections of individuals which resemble each other so much in their organization and by the _ensemble_ of their parts that we do not hesitate to regard these collections of similar individuals as constituting so many species. "from this consideration we call _species_ every collection of individuals which are alike or almost so, and we remark that the regeneration of these individuals conserves the species and propagates it in continuing successively to reproduce similar individuals. "formerly it was supposed that each species was immutable, as old as nature, and that she had caused its special creation by the supreme author of all which exists. "but we can impose on him laws in the execution of his will, and determine the mode which he has been pleased to follow in this respect, so it is only in this way that he permits us to recognize it by the aid of observation. has not his infinite power created an order of things which successively gives existence to all that we see as well as to all that which exists and which we do not know? "assuredly, whatever has been his will, the omnipotence of his power is always the same; and in whatever way this supreme will has been manifested, nothing can diminish its greatness. as regards, then, the decrees of this infinite wisdom, i confine myself to the limits of a simple observer of nature. then, if i discover anything in the course that nature follows in her creations, i shall say, without fear of deceiving myself, that it has pleased its author that she possesses this power. "the idea that was held as to species among living bodies was quite simple, easy to grasp, and seemed confirmed by the constancy in the similar form of the individuals which reproduction or generation perpetuated. there still occur among us a very great number of these pretended species which we see every day. "however, the farther we advance in the knowledge of the different organized bodies with which almost every part of the surface of the globe is covered, the more does our embarrassment increase in determining what should be regarded as species, and the greater is the reason for limiting and distinguishing the genera. "as we gradually gather the productions of nature, as our collections gradually grow richer, we see almost all the gaps filled up, and our lines of demarcation effaced. we find ourselves compelled to make an arbitrary determination, which sometimes leads us to seize upon the slightest differences between varieties to form of them the character of that which we call species, and sometimes one person designates as a variety of such a species individuals a little different, which others regard as constituting a particular species. "i repeat, the richer our collections become, the more numerous are the proofs that all is more or less shaded (_nuancé_), that the remarkable differences become obliterated, and that the more often nature leaves it at our disposal to establish distinctions only minute, and in some degree trivial peculiarities. "but some genera among animals and plants are of such an extent, from the number of species they contain, that the study and the determination of these species are now almost impossible. the species of these genera, arranged in series and placed together according to their natural relations, present, with those allied to them, differences so slight that they shade into each other; and because these species are in some degree confounded with one another they leave almost no means of determining, by expression in words, the small differences which distinguish them. "there are also those who have been for a long time, and strongly, occupied with the determination of the species, and who have consulted rich collections, who can understand up to what point species, among living bodies, merge one into another (_fondent les unes dans les autres_), and who have been able to convince themselves, in the regions (_parties_) where we see isolated species, that this is only because there are wanting other species which are more nearly related, and which we have not yet collected. "i do not mean to say by this that the existing animals form a very simple series, one everywhere equally graduated; but i say that they form a branching series, irregularly graduated, and which has no discontinuity in its parts, or which at best has not always had, if it is true that it is to be found anywhere (_s'il est vrai qu'il s'en trouve quelque part_). it results from this that the species which terminates each branch of the general series holds a place at least on one side apart from the other allied species which intergrade with them. behold this state of things, so well known, which i am now compelled to demonstrate. "i have no need (_besoin_) of any hypothesis or any supposition for this: i call to witness all observing naturalists. "not only many genera, but entire orders, and some classes even, already present us with portions almost complete of the state of things which i have just indicated. "however, when in this case we have arranged the species in series, and they are all well placed according to their natural relations, if you select one of them, and it results in making a leap (_saut pardessus_) over to several others, you take another one of them a little less remote; these two species, placed in comparison, will then present the greatest differences from each other. it is thus that we had begun to regard most of the productions of nature which occur at our door. then the generic and specific distinctions were very easy to establish. but now that our collections are very much richer, if you follow the series that i have cited above, from the species that you first chose up to that which you took in the second place, and which is very different from the first, you have passed from shade to shade without having remarked any differences worth noticing. "i ask what experienced zoölogist or botanist is there who has not thoroughly realized that which i have just explained to you? "or how can one study, or how can one be able to determine in a thorough way the species, among the multitude of known polyps of all orders of radiates, worms, and especially of insects, where the simple genera of papilio, phalæna, noctua, tinea, musca, ichneumon, curculio, capricorn, scarabæus, cetonia, etc., etc., already contain so many closely allied species which shade into each other, are almost confounded one with another? what a host of molluscan shells exist in every country and in all seas which elude our means of distinction, and exhaust our resources in this respect! ascend to the fishes, to the reptiles, to the birds, even to the mammals, and you will see, except the lacunæ which are still to be filled, everywhere shadings which take place between allied species, even the genera, and where after the most industrious study we fail to establish good distinctions. does not botany, which considers the other series, comprising the plants, offer us, in its different parts, a state of things perfectly similar? in short, what difficulties do not arise in the study and in the determination of species in the genera lichena, fucus, carex, poa, piper, euphorbia, erica, hieracium, solanum, geranium, mimosa, etc., etc.? "when these genera were established but a small number of species were known, and then it was easy to distinguish them; but at present almost all the gaps between them are filled, and our specific differences are necessarily minute and very often insufficient. "from this state of things well established we see what are the causes which have given rise to them; we see whether nature possesses the means for this, and if observation has been able to give us our explanation of it. "a great many facts teach us that gradually as the individuals of one of our species change their situation, climate, mode of life, or habits, they thus receive influences which gradually change the consistence and the proportions of their parts, their form, their faculties, even their organization; so that all of them participate eventually in the changes which they have undergone. "in the same climate, very different situations and exposures at first cause simple variations in the individuals which are found exposed there; but, as time goes on, the continual differences of situation of individuals of which i have spoken, which live and successively reproduce in the same circumstances, give rise among them to differences which are, in some degree, essential to their being, in such a way that at the end of many successive generations these individuals, which originally belonged to another species, are at the end transformed into a new species, distinct from the other. "for example, if the seeds of a grass, or of every other plant natural to a humid field, should be transplanted, by an accident, at first to the slope of a neighboring hill, where the soil, although more elevated, would yet be quite cool (_frais_) so as to allow the plant to live, and then after having lived there, and passed through many generations there, it should gradually reach the poor and almost arid soil of a mountain side--if the plant should thrive and live there and perpetuate itself during a series of generations, it would then be so changed that the botanists who should find it there would describe it as a separate species. "the same thing happens to animals which circumstances have forced to change their climate, manner of living, and habits; but for these the influences of the causes which i have just cited need still more time than in the case of plants to produce the notable changes in the individuals, though in the long run, however, they always succeed in bringing them about. "the idea of defining under the word _species_ a collection of similar individuals which perpetuate the same by generation, and which have existed thus as anciently as nature, implies the necessity that the individuals of one and the same species cannot mix, in their acts of generation, with the individuals of a different species. unfortunately observation has proved, and still proves every day, that this consideration has no basis; for the hybrids, very common among plants, and the unions which are often observed between the individuals of very different species among animals, have made us perceive that the limits between these species, supposed to be constant, are not so rigid as is supposed. "in truth, nothing often results from these singular unions, especially when they are very incongruous, as the individuals which result from them are usually sterile; but also, when the disparities are less great, it is known that the drawbacks (_défauts_) with which it has to do no longer exist. however, this means alone suffices to gradually create the varieties which have afterwards arisen from races, and which, with time, constitute that which we call _species_. "to judge whether the idea which is formed of species has any real foundation, let us return to the considerations which i have already stated; they are, namely-- " . that all the organic bodies of our globe are veritable productions of nature, which she has created in succession at the end of much time. " . that in her course nature has begun, and begins anew every day, by forming the simplest organic bodies, and that she directly forms only these--that is to say, only these first primitive germs (_ébauches_) of organization, which have been badly characterized by the expression of "spontaneous generations" (_qu'on a désignées mal-à-propos par l'expression de générations spontanées_). " . that the first germs (_ébauches_) of the animals and plants were formed in favorable places and circumstances. the functions of life beginning and an organic movement established, these have necessarily gradually developed the organs, so that after a time and under suitable circumstances they have been differentiated, as also the different parts (_elles les ont diversifiés ainsi qui les parties_). " . that the power of increase in each portion of organic bodies being inherited at the first production (_effets_) of life, it has given rise to different modes of multiplication and of regeneration of individuals; and in that way the progress acquired in the composition of the organization and in the forms and the diversity of the parts has been preserved. " . that with the aid of sufficient time, of circumstances which have been necessarily favorable, of changes that all parts of the surface of the globe have successively undergone in their condition--in a word, with the power that new situations and new habits have in modifying the organs of bodies endowed with life--all those which now exist have been imperceptibly formed such as we see them. " . finally, that according to a similar order of things, living beings, having undergone each of the more or less great changes in the condition of their organization and of their parts, that which is designated as a species among them has been insensibly and successively so formed, can have only a relative constancy in its condition, and cannot be as ancient as nature. "but, it will be said, when it is necessary to suppose that, with the aid of much time and of an infinite variation in circumstances, nature has gradually formed the different animals that we know, would we not be stopped in this supposition by the sole consideration of the admirable diversity which we observe in the instinct of different animals, and by that of the marvels of all sorts which their different kinds of industry present? "will one dare to carry the spirit of system (_porter l'esprit de système_) to the point of saying that it is nature, and she alone, which creates this astonishing diversity of means, of ruses, of skill, of precautions, of patience, of which the industry of animals offers us so many examples! what we observe in this respect in the class of insects alone, is it not a thousand times more than is necessary to compel us to perceive that the limits of the power of nature by no means permit her herself to produce so many marvels, and to force the most obstinate philosophy to recognize that here the will of the supreme author of all things has been necessary, and has alone sufficed to cause the existence of so many admirable things? "without doubt one would be rash, or rather wholly unreasonable, to pretend to assign limits to the power of the first author of all things; and by that alone no one can dare to say that this infinite power has not been able to will that which nature herself shows us she has willed. "this being so, if i discover that nature herself brings about or causes all the wonders just cited; that she creates the organization, the life, even feeling; that she multiplies and diversifies, within limits which are not known to us, the organs and faculties of organic bodies the existence of which she sustains or propagates; that she has created in animals by the single way of _need_, which establishes and directs the habits, the source of all actions, from the most simple up to those which constitute _instinct_, industry, finally reason, should i not recognize in this power of nature--that is to say, of existing things--the execution of the will of its sublime author, who has been able to will that it should have this power? shall i any the less wonder at the omnipotence of the power of the first cause of all things, if it has pleased itself that things should be thus, than if by so many (separate) acts of his omnipotent will he should be occupied and occupy himself still continually with details of all the special creations, all the variations, and all the developments and perfections, all the destructions and all the renewals--in a word, with all the changes which are in general produced in things which exist? "but i intend to prove in my 'biologie' that nature possesses in her _faculties_ all that is necessary to have to be able herself to produce that which we admire in her works; and regarding this subject i shall then enter into sufficient details which i am here obliged to omit.[ ] "however, it is still objected that all we see stated regarding the state of living bodies are unalterable conditions in the preservation of their form, and it is thought that all the animals whom history has transmitted to us for two or three thousand years have always remained the same, and have lost nothing nor acquired anything in the perfecting of their organs and in the form of their parts. "while this apparent stability has for a long time been accepted as true, it has just been attempted to establish special proofs in a report on the collections of natural history brought from egypt by the citizen geoffroy." quotes three paragraphs in which the reporters (cuvier and geoffroy st. hilaire) say that the mummied animals of thebes and memphis are perfectly similar to those of to-day. then he goes on to say: "i have seen them, these animals, and i believe in the conformity of their resemblance with the individuals of the same species which live to-day. thus the animals which the egyptians worshipped and embalmed two or three thousand years ago are still in every respect similar to those which actually live in that country. "but it would be assuredly very singular that this should be otherwise; for the position of egypt and its climate are still or very nearly the same as at former times. therefore the animals which live there have not been compelled to change their habits. "there is, then, nothing in the observation which has just been reported which should be contrary to the considerations which i have expressed on this subject; and which especially proves that the animals of which it treats have existed during the whole period of nature. it only proves that they have existed for two or three thousand years; and every one who is accustomed to reflect, and at the same time to observe that which nature shows us of the monuments of its antiquity, readily appreciates the value of a duration of two or three thousand years in comparison with it. "hence, as i have elsewhere said, it is sure that this appearance of the stability of things in nature will always be mistaken by the average of mankind for the reality; because in general people only judge of everything relatively to themselves. "for the man who observes, and who in this respect only judges from the changes which he himself perceives, the intervals of these changes are _stationary conditions_ (_états_) which should appear to be limitless, because of the brevity of life of the individuals of his species. thus, as the records of his observations and the notes of facts which he has consigned to his registers only extend and mount up to several thousands of years (three to five thousand years), which is an infinitely small period of time relatively to those which have sufficed to bring about the great changes which the surface of the globe has undergone, everything seems _stable_ to him in the planet which he inhabits, and he is inclined to reject the monuments heaped up around him or buried in the earth which he treads under his feet, and which surrounds him on all sides.[ ] * * * * * "it seems to me [as mistaken as] to expect some small creatures which only live a year, which inhabit some corner of a building, and which we may suppose are occupied with consulting among themselves as to the tradition, to pronounce on the duration of the edifice where they occur: and that going back in their paltry history to the twenty-fifth generation, they should unanimously decide that the building which serves to shelter them is eternal, or at least that it has always existed; because it has always appeared the same to them; and since they have never heard it said that it had a beginning. great things (_grandeurs_) in extent and in duration are relative.[ ] "when man wishes to clearly represent this truth he will be reserved in his decisions in regard to stability, which he attributes in nature to the state of things which he observes there.[ ] "to admit the insensible change of species, and the modifications which individuals undergo as they are gradually forced to vary their habits or to contract new ones, we are not reduced to the unique consideration of too small spaces of time which our observations can embrace to permit us to perceive these changes; for, besides this induction, a quantity of facts collected for many years throws sufficient light on the question that i examine, so that does not remain undecided; and i can say now that our sciences of observation are too advanced not to have the solution sought for made evident. "indeed, besides what we know of the influences and the results of heteroclite fecundations, we know positively to-day that a forced and long-sustained change, both in the habits and mode of life of animals, and in the situation, soil, and climate of plants, brings about, after a sufficient time has elapsed, a very remarkable change in the individuals which are exposed to them. "the animal which lives a free, wandering life on plains, where it habitually exercises itself in running swiftly; the birds whose needs (_besoins_) require them unceasingly to traverse great spaces in the air, finding themselves enclosed, some in the compartments of our menageries or in our stables, and others in our cages or in our poultry yards, are submitted there in time to striking influences, especially after a series of regenerations under the conditions which have made them contract new habits. the first loses in large part its nimbleness, its agility; its body becomes stouter, its limbs diminish in power and suppleness, and its faculties are no longer the same. the second become clumsy; they are unable to fly, and grow more fleshy in all parts of their bodies. "behold in our stout and clumsy horses, habituated to draw heavy loads, and which constitute a special race by always being kept together--behold, i say, the difference in their form compared with those of english horses, which are all slender, with long necks, because for a long period they have been trained to run swiftly: behold in them the influence of a difference of habit, and judge for yourselves. you find them, then, such as they are in some degree in nature. you find there our cock and our hen in the condition we have [made] them, as also the mixed races that we have formed by mixed breeding between the varieties produced in different countries, or where they were so in the state of domesticity. you find there likewise our different races of domestic pigeons, our different dogs, etc. what are our cultivated fruits, our wheat, our cabbage, our lettuce, etc., etc., if they are not the result of changes which we ourselves have effected in these plants, in changing by our culture the conditions of their situation? are they now found in this condition in nature? to these incontestable facts add the considerations which i have discussed in my _recherches sur les corps vivans_ (p.  _et suiv._), and decide for yourselves. "thus, among living bodies, nature, as i have already said, offers only in an absolute way individuals which succeed each other genetically, and which descend one from the other. so the _species_ among them are only relative, and only temporary. "nevertheless, to facilitate the study and the knowledge of so many different bodies it is useful to give the name of _species_ to the entire collection of individuals which are alike, which reproduction perpetuates in the same condition as long as the conditions of their situation do not change enough to make their habits, their character, and their form vary. "such is, citizens, the exact sketch of that which goes on in nature since she has existed, and of that which the observation of her acts has alone enabled us to discover. i have fulfilled my object if, in presenting to you the results of my researches and of my experience, i have been able to disclose to you that which in your studies of this kind deserves your special attention. "you now doubtless conceive how important are the considerations which i have just exposed to you, and how wrong you would be if, in devoting yourself to the study of animals or of plants, you should seek to see among them only the multiplied distinctions that we have been obliged to establish; in a word, if you should confine yourselves to fixing in your memory the variable and indefinite nomenclature which is applied to so many different bodies, instead of studying nature herself--her course, her means, and the constant results that she knows how to attain." on the next fly page are the following words: _esquisse d'une philosophie zoologique_. iv. _lamarck's views as published in ._[ ] "those who have observed much and have consulted the great collections, have been able to convince themselves that as gradually as the circumstances of their habitat, of exposure to their surroundings, of climate, food, mode of living, etc., have changed, the characters of size, form, of proportion between the parts, of color, of consistence, of duration, of agility, and of industry have proportionately changed. "they have been able to see, as regards the animals, that the more frequent and longer sustained use of any organ gradually strengthens this organ, develops it, enlarges it, and gives it a power proportional to the length of time it has been used; while the constant lack of use of such an organ insensibly weakens it, causes it to deteriorate, progressively diminishes its faculties, and tends to make it waste away.[ ] "finally, it has been remarked that all that nature has made individuals to acquire or lose by the sustained influence of circumstances where their race has existed for a long time, she has preserved by heredity in the new individuals which have originated from them (_elle le conserve par la génération aux nouveaux individus qui en proviennent_). these verities are firmly grounded, and can only be misunderstood by those who have never observed and followed nature in her operations. "thus we are assured that that which is taken for _species_ among living bodies, and that all the specific differences which distinguish these natural productions, have no absolute _stability_, but that they enjoy only a relative _stability_; which it is very important to consider in order to fix the limits which we must establish in the determination of that which we must call _species_. "it is known that different places change in nature and character by reason of their position, their 'composition' [we should say geological structure or features], and their climate; that which is easily perceived in passing over different places distinguished by special characteristics; behold already a cause of variation for the natural productions which inhabit these different places. but that which is not sufficiently known, and even that which people refuse to believe, is that each place itself changes after a time, in exposure, in climate, in nature, and in character, although with a slowness so great in relation to our period of time that we attribute to it a perfect _stability_. "now, in either case, these changed places proportionately change the circumstances relative to the living bodies which inhabit them, and these produce again other influences on those same bodies. "we see from this that if there are extremes in these changes there are also gradations (_nuances_), that is to say, steps which are intermediate, and which fill up the interval; consequently there are also gradations in the differences which distinguish that which we call _species_. "indeed, as we constantly meet with such shades (or intermediate steps) between these so-called _species_, we find ourselves forced to descend to the minutest details to find any distinctions; the slightest peculiarities of form, of color, of size, and often even of differences only perceived in the aspect of the individual compared with other individuals which are related to it the more by their relations, are seized upon by naturalists to establish specific differences; so that, the slightest varieties being reckoned as species, our catalogues of species grow infinitely great, and the name of the productions of nature of the most interest to us are, so to speak, buried in these enormous lists, become very difficult to find, because now the objects are mostly only determined by characters which our senses can scarcely enable us to perceive. "meanwhile we should remember that nothing of all this exists in nature; that she knows neither classes, orders, genera, nor species, in spite of all the foundation which the portion of the natural series which our collection contains has seemed to afford them; and that of organic or living bodies there are, in reality, only individuals, and among different races which gradually pass (_nuancent_) into all degrees of organization" (p.  ). on p.  he speaks of the animal chain from monad to man, ascending from the most simple to the most complex. the monad is the most simple, the most like a germ of living bodies, and from its nature passes to the volvoces, proteus, vibrios; from them nature arrives at the production of "polypes rotifères"--and then at "radiaires," worms, arachnida, crustacea, and cirrhipedes. footnotes: [ ] _discours d'ouverture du cours de zoologie donné dans le muséum national d'histoire naturelle, le  floréal, an  de la république_ ( ). floréal is the name adopted by the national convention for the eighth month of the year. in the years of the republic to it extended from april  to may  inclusive, and in the years to from april  to may  (_century cyclopedia of names_). the lecture, then, in which lamarck first presented his views was delivered on some day between april  and may  , . [ ] lamarck by the word _génération_ implies heredity. he nowhere uses the word _hérédité_. [ ] "l'oiseau que le besoin attire sur l'eau pour y trouver la proie qui le fait vivre, écarte les doigts de ses pieds lorsqu'il veut frapper l'eau et se mouvoir à sa surface" (p.  ). if the word _veut_ has suggested the doctrine of appetency in meaning has been pushed too far by the critics of lamarck. [ ] this he already touched upon in his _mémoires de physique et d'histoire naturelle_ (p.  ). [ ] _système des animaux sans vertèbres_, pp.  and . [ ] i have cited the incontestable proofs in my _hydrogéologie_, and i have the conviction that one day all will be compelled to accept these great truths. [ ] _ranunculus aquaticus capillaceus_ (tournef., p.  ). [ ] _ranunculus aquaticus_ (folio rotundo et capillaceo, tournef., p.  ). [ ] _gramen junceum_, etc. (moris, hist. , sec.  , t.  , f.  ). [ ] _discours d'ouverture d'un cours de zoologie, prononcé en prairial, an xi, au muséum d'histoire naturelle, sur la question, qu'est-ce que l'espèce parmi les corps vivans?_ ( ). [ ] _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_, p.  . [ ] "see at the end of this discourse the sketch of a _philosophie zoologique_ relative to this subject." [this sketch was not added--only the title at the end of the book.] [ ] see the _annales du muséum d'hist. nat._, iv^e cahier. ., , pp.  , : _mémoires sur les fossiles des environs de paris_, etc. he repeats in his _discours_ what he wrote in in the _annales_. [ ] _ibid._ this is repeated from the article in the _annales_. [ ] _ibid._ "see my _recherches sur les corps vivans_" (appendix, p.  ). [ ] _discours d'ouverture du cours des animaux sans vertèbres, prononcé dans le muséum d'histoire naturelle en mai  ._ (no imprint. ^o, pp.  .) only the most important passages are here translated. [ ] "we know that all the forms of organs compared to the uses of these same organs are always perfectly adapted. but there is a common error in this connection, since it is thought that the forms of organs have caused their functions (_en ont amené l'emploi_), whereas it is easy to demonstrate by observation that it is the uses (_usages_) which have given origin to the forms of organs." chapter xvii the "philosophie zoologique" lamarck's mature views on the theory of descent comprise a portion of his celebrated _philosophie zoologique_. we will let him tell the story of creation by natural causes so far as possible in his own words. in the _avertissement_, or preface, he says that his experience has led him to realize that a body of precepts and of principles relating to the study of animals and even applicable to other parts of the natural sciences would now be useful, our knowledge of zoölogical facts having, for about thirty years, made considerable progress. after referring to the differences in structure and faculties characterizing animals of different groups, he proceeds to outline his theory, and begins by asking: "how, indeed, can i consider the singular modification in the structure of animals, as we glance over the series from the most perfect to the least perfect, without asking how we can account for a fact so positive and so remarkable--a fact attested to me by so many proofs? should i not think that nature has successively produced the different living beings by proceeding from the most simple to the most compound; because in ascending the animal scale from the most imperfect up to the most perfect, the organization perfects itself and becomes gradually complicated in a most remarkable way?" this leads him to consider what is life, and he remarks (p. xv.) that it does not exist without external stimuli. the conditions necessary for the existence of life are found completely developed in the simplest organization. we are then led to inquire how this organization, by reason of certain changes, can give rise to other organisms less simple, and finally originate creatures becoming gradually more complicated, as we see in ascending the animal scale. then employing the two following considerations, he believes he perceives the solution of the problem which has occupied his thoughts. he then cites as factors ( ) use and disuse; ( ) the movement of internal fluids by which passages are opened through the cellular tissue in which they move, and finally create different organs. hence the _movement of fluids in the interior of animals_, and the _influence of new circumstances_ as animals gradually expose themselves to them in spreading into every inhabitable place, are the two general causes which have produced the different animals in the condition we now see them. meanwhile he perceived the importance of the preservation by heredity, though he nowhere uses that word, in the new individuals reproduced of everything which the results of the life and influencing circumstances had caused to be acquired in the organization of those which have transmitted existence to them. in the _discours préliminaire_, referring to the _progression_ in organization of animals from the simplest to man, as also to the successive acquisition of different special organs, and consequently of as many faculties as new organs obtained, he remarks: "then we can perceive how needs (_besoins_), at the outset reduced to nullity, and of which the number gradually increases, have produced the inclination (_penchant_) to actions fitted to satisfy it; how the actions, becoming habitual and energetic, have caused the development of the organs which execute them; how the force which excites the organic movements may, in the simplest animals, be outside of them and yet animate them; how, then, this force has been transported and fixed in the animal itself; finally, how it then has become the source of sensibility, and in the end that of acts of intelligence. "i shall add that if this method had been followed, then _sensation_ would not have been regarded as the general and immediate cause of organic movements, and it would not have been said that life is a series of movements which are executed in virtue of sensations received by different organs; or, in other words, that all the vital movements are the product of impressions received by the sensitive parts.[ ] "this cause seems, up to a certain point, established as regards the most perfect animals; but had it been so relatively to all living beings, they should all be endowed with the power of sensation. but it cannot be proved that this is the case with plants, and it cannot likewise be proved that it is so with all the animals known. "but nature in creating her organisms has not begun by suddenly establishing a faculty so eminent as that of sensation: she has had the means of producing this faculty in the imperfect animals of the first classes of the animal kingdom," referring to the protozoa. but she has accomplished this gradually and successively. "nature has progressively created the different special organs, also the faculties which animals enjoy." he remarks that though it is indispensable to classify living forms, yet that our classifications are all artificial; that species, genera, families, orders, and classes do not exist in nature--only the individuals really exist. in the third chapter he gives the old definition of species, that they are fixed and immutable, and then speaks of the animal series, saying: "i do not mean by this to say that the existing animals form a very simple series, and especially evenly graduated; but i claim that they form a branched series,[ ] irregularly graduated, and which has no discontinuity in its parts, or which, at least, has not always had, if it is true that, owing to the extinction of some species, there are some breaks. it follows that the _species_ which terminates each branch of the general series is connected at least on one side with other _species_ which intergrade with it" (p.  ). he then points out the difficulty of determining what are species in certain large genera, such as papilio, ichneumon, etc. how new species arise is shown by observation. "a number of facts teaches us that in proportion as the individuals of one of our species are subjected to changes in situation, climate, mode of life or habits, they thereby receive influences which gradually change the consistence and the proportions of their parts, their form, their faculties, even their structure; so that it follows that all of them after a time participate in the changes to which they have been subjected. "in the same climate very different situations and exposures cause simple variations in the individuals occurring there; but, after the lapse of time, the continual differences of situation of the individuals of which i speak, which live and successively reproduce under the same circumstances, produce differences in them which become, in some degree, essential to their existence, so that at the end of many successive generations these individuals, which originally belonged to another species, became finally transformed into a new species distinct from the other. "for example, should the seeds of a grass or of any other plant natural to a moist field be carried by any means at first to the slope of a neighboring hill, where the soil, although more elevated, will yet be sufficiently moist to allow the plant to live there, and if it results, after having lived there and having passed through several generations, that it gradually reaches the dry and almost arid soil of a mountain side; if the plant succeeds in living there, and perpetuates itself there during a series of generations, it will then be so changed that any botanists who should find it there would make a distinct species of it. "the same thing happens in the case of animals which circumstances have forced to change in climate, mode of life, and habits; but in their case the influences of the causes which i have just cited need still more time than the plants to bring about notable changes in the individuals. "the idea of embracing, under the name of _species_, a collection of like individuals which are perpetuated by generation, and which have remained the same as long as nature has endured, implies the necessity that the individuals of one and the same species should not cross with individuals of a different species. "unfortunately observation has proved, and still proves every day, that this consideration is unfounded; for hybrids, very common among plants, and the pairings which we often observe between the individuals of very different _species_ of animals, have led us to see that the limits between these supposed constant species are not so fixed as has been imagined. "in truth, nothing often results from these singular unions, especially if they are very ill-assorted, and then the individuals which do result from them are usually infertile; but also, when the disparities are less great, we know that the default in question does not occur. "but this cause only suffices to create, step by step, varieties which finally become races, and which, with time, constitute what we call _species_. "to decide whether the idea which is formed of the _species_ has any real foundation, let us return to the considerations which i have already explained; they lead us to see: " . that all the organized bodies of our globe are true productions of nature, which she has successively formed after the lapse of much time; " . that, in her course. nature has begun, and begins over again every day, to form the simplest organisms, and that she directly creates only those, namely, which are the first germs (_ébauches_) of organization, which are designated by the expression of _spontaneous generations_; " . that the first germs of the animal and plant having been formed in appropriate places and circumstances, the faculties of a beginning life and of an organic movement established, have necessarily gradually developed the organs, and that with time they have diversified them, as also the parts; " . that the power of growth in each part of the organized body being inherent in the first created forms of life, it has given rise to different modes of multiplication and of regeneration of individuals; and that consequently the progress acquired in the composition of the organization and in the shape and diversity of the parts has been preserved; " . that with the aid of sufficient time, of circumstances which have been necessarily favorable, of changes of condition that every part of the earth's surface has successively undergone--in a word, by the power which new situations and new habits have of modifying the organs of living beings, all those which now exist have been gradually formed such as we now see them; " . finally, that, according to a similar order of things, living beings having undergone each of the more or less great changes in the condition of their structure and parts, that which we call a _species_ among them has been gradually and successively so formed, having only a relative constancy in its condition, and not being as old as nature herself. "but, it will be said, when it is supposed that by the aid of much time and of an infinite variation in circumstances, nature has gradually formed the different animals known to us, shall we not be stopped in this supposition by the simple consideration of the admirable diversity which we observe in the _instincts_ of different animals, and by that of the marvels of every kind presented by their different kinds of _industry_? "shall we dare to extend the spirit of system so far as to say that it is nature who has herself alone created this astonishing diversity of means, of contrivances, of skill, of precautions, of patience, of which the _industry_ of animals offers us so many examples? what we observe in this respect in the simple class of _insects_, is it not a thousand times more than sufficient to make us realize that the limit to the power of nature in nowise permits her to herself produce so many marvels, but to force the most obstinate philosopher to recognize that here the will of the supreme author of all things has been necessary, and has alone sufficed to create so many admirable things? "without doubt, one would be rash or, rather, wholly insensate, to pretend to assign limits to the power of the first author of all things; but, aside from that, no one could dare to say that this infinite power could not will that which nature even shows us it has willed"[ ] (p.  ). referring to the alleged proof of the fixity of species brought forward by cuvier in the _annales du muséum d'histoire naturelle_ (i., pp.  and ) that the mummied birds, crocodiles, and other animals of egypt present no differences from those now living, lamarck says: "it would assuredly be very singular if it were otherwise, because the position of egypt and its climate are still almost exactly what they were at that epoch. moreover, the birds which live there still exist under the same circumstances as they were then, not having been obliged to change their habits. "moreover, who does not perceive that birds, which can so easily change their situation and seek places which suit them are less subject than many other animals to the variations of local circumstances, and hence less restricted in their habits." he adds the fact that the animals in question have inhabited egypt for two or three thousand years, and not necessarily from all time, and that this is not time enough for marked changes. he then gives the following definition of species, which is the best ever offered: "species, then, have only a relative stability, and are invariable only temporarily." "yet, to facilitate the study and knowledge of so many different organisms it is useful to give the name of _species_ to every similar collection of similar individuals which are perpetuated by heredity (_génération_) in the same condition, so long as the circumstances of their situation do not change enough to render variable their habits, character, and form." he then discusses fossil species in the way already described in chapter iii. (p.  ). the subject of the checks upon over-population by the smaller and weaker animals, or the struggle for existence, is thus discussed in chapter iv.: "owing to the extreme multiplication of the small species, and especially of the most imperfect animals, the multiplicity of individuals might be prejudicial to the preservation of the species, to that of the progress acquired in the improvement of the organization--in a word, to the general order, if nature had not taken precautions to keep this multiplication within due limits over which she would never pass. "animals devour one another, except those which live only on plants; but the latter are exposed to being devoured by the carnivorous animals. "we know that it is the strongest and the best armed which devour the weaker, and that the larger kinds devour the smaller. nevertheless, the individuals of a single species rarely devour each other: they war upon other races.[ ] "the multiplication of the small species of animals is so considerable, and the renewals of their generations are so prompt, that these small species would render the earth uninhabitable to the others if nature had not set a limit to their prodigious multiplication. but since they serve as prey for a multitude of other animals, as the length of their life is very limited, and as the lowering of the temperature kills them, their numbers are always maintained in proper proportions for the preservation of their races and that of others. "as to the larger and stronger animals, they would be too dominant and injure the preservation of other races if they should multiply in too great proportions. but their races devouring each other, they would only multiply slowly and in a small number at a time; this would maintain in this respect the kind of equilibrium which should exist. "finally, only man, considered separately from all which is characteristic of him, seems capable of multiplying indefinitely, because his intelligence and his resources secure him from seeing his increase arrested by the voracity of any animals. he exercises over them such a supremacy that, instead of fearing the larger and stronger races of animals, he is thus rather capable of destroying them, and he continually checks their increase. "but nature has given him numerous passions, which, unfortunately, developing with his intelligence, thus place a great obstacle to the extreme multiplication of the individuals of his species. "indeed, it seems as if man had taken it upon himself unceasingly to reduce the number of his fellow-creatures; for never, i do not hesitate to say, will the earth be covered with the population that it could maintain. several of its habitable parts would always be alternately very sparsely populated, although the time for these alternate changes would be to us measureless. "thus by these wise precautions everything is preserved in the established order; the changes and perpetual renewals which are observable in this order are maintained within limits over which they cannot pass; the races of living beings all subsist in spite of their variations; the progress acquired in the improvement of the organization is not lost; everything which appears to be disordered, overturned, anomalous, reënters unceasingly into the general order, and even coöperates with it; and especially and always the will of the sublime author of nature and of all existing things is invariably executed" (pp.  - ). in the sixth chapter the author treats of the degradation and simplification of the structure from one end to the other of the animal series, proceeding, as he says, inversely to the general order of nature, from the compound to the more simple. why he thus works out this idea of a general degradation is not very apparent, since it is out of tune with his views, so often elsewhere expressed, of a progressive evolution from the simple to the complex, and to his own classification of the animal kingdom, beginning as it does with the simplest forms and ending with man. perhaps, however, he temporarily adopts the prevailing method of beginning with the highest forms in order to bring out clearly the successive steps in inferiority or degradation presented in descending the animal scale. we will glean some passages of this chapter which bear on his theory of descent. speaking of the different kinds of aquatic surroundings he remarks: "in the first place it should be observed that in the waters themselves she [nature] presents considerably diversified circumstances; the fresh waters, marine waters, calm or stagnant waters, running waters or streams, the waters of warm climates, those of cold regions, finally those which are shallow and those which are very deep, offer many special circumstances, each of which acts differently on the animals living in them. now, in a degree equal to the make-up of the organization, the races of animals which are exposed to either of these circumstances have been submitted to special influences and have been diversified by them." he then, after referring to the general degradation of the batrachians, touches upon the atrophy of legs which has taken place in the snakes: "if we should consider as a result of _degradation_ the loss of legs seen in the snakes, the _ophidia_ should be regarded as constituting the lowest order of reptiles; but it would be an error to admit this consideration. indeed, the serpents being animals which, in order to hide themselves, have adopted the habit of gliding directly along the ground, their body has lengthened very considerably and disproportionately to its thickness. now, elongated legs proving disadvantageous to their necessity of gliding and hiding, very short legs, being only four in number, since they are vertebrate animals, would be incapable of moving their bodies. thus the habits of these animals have been the cause of the disappearance of their legs, and yet the _batrachians_, which have them, offer a more degraded organization, and are nearer the fishes" (p.  ). referring on the next page to the fishes, he remarks:-- "without doubt their general form, their lack of a constriction between the head and the body to form a neck, and the different fins which support them in place of legs, are the results of the influence of the dense medium which they inhabit, and not that of the _dégradation_ of their organization. but this modification (_dégradation_) is not less real and very great, as we can convince ourselves by examining their internal organs; it is such as to compel us to assign to the fishes a rank lower than that of the reptiles." he then states that the series from the lamprey and fishes to the mammals is not a regularly gradated one, and accounts for this "because the work of nature has been often changed, hindered, and diverted in direction by the influences which singularly different, even contrasted, circumstances have exercised on the animals which are there found exposed in the course of a long series of their renewed generations." lamarck thus accounts for the production of the radial symmetry of the medusæ and echinoderms, his _radiaires_. at the present day this symmetry is attributed perhaps more correctly to their more or less fixed mode of life. "it is without doubt by the result of this means which nature employs, at first with a feeble energy with _polyps_, and then with greater developments in the _radiata_, that the radial form has been acquired; because the subtile ambient fluids, penetrating by the alimentary canal, and being expansive, have been able, by an incessantly renewed repulsion from the centre towards every point of the circumference, to give rise to this radiated arrangement of parts. "it is by this cause that, in the radiata, the intestinal canal, although still very imperfect, since more often it has only a single opening, is yet complicated with numerous radiating vasculiform, often ramified, appendages. "it is, doubtless, also by this cause that in the soft radiates, as the medusæ, etc., we observe a constant isochronic movement, movement very probably resulting from the successive intermissions between the masses of subtile fluids which penetrate into the interior of these animals and those of the same fluids which escape from it, often being spread throughout all their parts. "we cannot say that the isochronic movements of the soft radiates are the result of their respiration; for below the vertebrate animals nature does not offer, in that of any animal, these alternate and measured movements of inspiration and expiration. whatever may be the respiration of radiates, it is extremely slow, and is executed without perceptible movements" (p.  ). _the influence of circumstances on the actions and habits of animals._ it is in chapter vii. that the views of lamarck are more fully presented than elsewhere, and we therefore translate all of it as literally as possible, so as to preserve the exact sense of the author. "we do not here have to do with a line of argument, but with the examination of a positive fact, which is more general than is supposed, and which has not received the attention it deserves, doubtless because, very often, it is quite difficult to discover. this fact consists in the influence which circumstances exert on the different organisms subjected to them. "in truth, for a long time there has been noticed the influence of different states of our organization on our character, our propensities (_penchants_), our actions, and even our ideas; but it seems to me that no one has yet recognized that of our actions and of our habits on our organization itself. now, as these actions and these habits entirely depend on the circumstances in which we habitually find ourselves, i shall try to show how great is the influence which these circumstances exercise on the general form, on the condition of the parts, and even on the organization of living bodies. it is therefore this very positive fact which is to be the subject of this chapter. "if we have not had numerous occasions to plainly recognize the effects of this influence on certain organisms which we have transported under entirely new and different circumstances, and if we had not seen these effects and the changes resulting from them produced, in a way, under our very eyes, the important fact in question would have always remained unknown. "the influence of circumstances is really continuously and everywhere active on living beings, but what renders it difficult for us to appreciate this influence is that its effects only become sensible or recognizable (especially in the animals) at the end of a long period. "before stating and examining the proofs of this fact, which deserves our attention, and which is very important for a zoölogical philosophy, let us resume the thread of the considerations we had begun to discuss. "in the preceding paragraph we have seen that it is now an incontrovertible fact that, in considering the animal scale in a sense the inverse of that of nature, we find that there exists in the groups composing this scale a continuous but irregular modification (_dégradation_) in the organization of animals which they comprise, an increasing simplification in the organization of these organisms; finally, a proportionate diminution in the number of faculties of these beings. "this fact once recognized may throw the greatest light on the very order which nature has followed in the production of all the existing animals; but it does not show why the structure of animals in its increasing complexity from the more imperfect up to the most perfect offers only an irregular gradation, whose extent presents a number of anomalies or digressions which have no appearance of order in their diversity. "now, in seeking for the reason of this singular irregularity in the increasing complexity of organization of animals, if we should consider the outcome of the influences that the infinitely diversified circumstances in all parts of the globe exercise on the general form, the parts, and the very organization of these animals, everything will be clearly explained. "it will, indeed, be evident that the condition in which we find all animals is, on one side, the result of the increasing complexity of the organization which tends to form a regular gradation, and, on the other, that it is that of the influences of a multitude of very different circumstances which continually tend to destroy the regularity in the gradations of the increasing complexity of the organization. "here it becomes necessary for me to explain the meaning i attach to the expression _circumstances influencing the form and structure of animals_--namely, that in becoming very different they change, with time, both their form and organization by proportionate modifications. "assuredly, if these expressions should be taken literally, i should be accused of an error; for whatever may be the circumstances, they do not directly cause any modification in the form and structure of animals. "but the great changes in the circumstances bring about in animals great changes in their needs, and such changes in their needs necessarily cause changes in their actions. now, if the new needs become constant or very permanent, the animals then assume new _habits_, which are as durable as the needs which gave origin to them. we see that this is easily demonstrated and even does not need any explanation to make it clearer. "it is then evident that a great change in circumstances having become constant in a race of animals leads these animals into new habits. "now, if new circumstances, having become permanent in a race of animals, have given to these animals new _habits_--that is to say, have led them to perform new actions which have become habitual--there will from this result the use of such a part by preference to that of another, and in certain cases the total lack of use of any part which has become useless. "nothing of all this should be considered as a hypothesis or as a mere peculiar opinion; they are, on the contrary, truths which require, in order to be made evident, only attention to and the observation of facts. "we shall see presently by the citation of known facts which prove it, on one side that the new wants, having rendered such a part necessary, have really by the result of efforts given origin to this part, and that as the result of its sustained use it has gradually strengthened it, developed, and has ended in considerably increasing its size; on the other side we shall see that, in certain cases, the new circumstances and new wants having rendered such a part wholly useless, the total lack of use of this part has led to the result that it has gradually ceased to receive the development which the other parts of the animal obtain; that it gradually becomes emaciated and thin; and that finally, when this lack of use has been total during a long time, the part in question ends in disappearing. all this is a positive fact; i propose to give the most convincing proofs. "in the plants, where there are no movements, and, consequently, no habits properly so called, great changes in circumstances do not bring about less great differences in the development of their parts; so that these differences originate and develop certain of them, while they reduce and cause several others to disappear. but here everything operates by the changes occurring in the nutrition of the plant, in its absorptions and transpirations, in the amount of heat, light, air, and humidity which it habitually receives; finally, in the superiority that certain of the different vital movements may assume over others. "between individuals of the same species, some of which are constantly well nourished, and in circumstances favorable to their entire development, while the others live under reversed circumstances, there is brought about a difference in the condition of these individuals which gradually becomes very remarkable. how many examples could i not cite regarding animals and plants, which would confirm the grounds for this view! now, if the circumstances remain the same, rendering habitual and constant the condition of individuals badly fed, diseased, or languishing, their internal organization becomes finally modified, and reproduction between the individuals in question preserves the acquired modifications, and ends in giving rise to a race very distinct from that of the individuals which unceasingly meet with circumstances favorable to their development. "a very dry spring-time is the cause of the grass of a field growing very slowly, remaining scraggy and puny, flowering and fruiting without growing much. "a spring interspersed with warm days and rainy days makes the same grass grow rapidly, and the harvest of hay is then excellent. "but if any cause perpetuates the unfavorable circumstances surrounding these plants, they vary proportionally, at first in their appearance and general condition, and finally in several particulars of their characters. "for example, if some seed of any of the grasses referred to should be carried into an elevated place, on a dry and stony greensward much exposed to the winds, and should germinate there, the plant which should be able to live in this place would always be badly nourished, and the individuals reproduced there continuing to exist under these depressing circumstances, there would result a race truly different from that living in the field, though originating from it. the individuals of this new race would be small, scraggy, and some of their organs, having developed more than others, would then offer special proportions. "those who have observed much, and who have consulted the great collections, have become convinced that in proportion as the circumstances of habitat, exposure, climate, food, mode of life, etc., come to change, the characters of size, form, proportion between the parts, color, consistence, agility, and industry in the animals change proportionally. "what nature accomplishes after a long time, we bring about every day by suddenly changing, in the case of a living plant, the circumstances under which it and all the individuals of its species exist. "all botanists know that the plants which they transplant from their birthplace into gardens for cultivation gradually undergo changes which at last render them unrecognizable. many plants naturally very hairy then become glabrous, or almost so; many of those which were creeping and trailing, then become erect; others lose their spines or their prickles; others still, from the woody and perennial condition which their stem possesses in a warm climate, pass, in our climate, into an herbaceous condition, and among these several are nothing more than annual plants; finally, the dimensions of their parts themselves undergo very considerable changes. these effects of changes of circumstances are so well known that botanists prefer not to describe garden plants, at least only those which have been newly cultivated. "is not cultivated wheat (_triticum sativum_) only a plant brought by man into the condition in which we actually see it? who can tell me in what country such a plant lives in a state of nature--that is to say, without being there the result of its culture in some neighboring region? "where occur in nature our cabbage, lettuce, etc., in the condition in which we see them in our kitchen-gardens? is it not the same as regards a number of animals which domestication has changed or considerably modified? "what very different races among our fowls and domestic pigeons, which we have obtained by raising them in different circumstances and in different countries, and how vainly do we now endeavor to rediscover them in nature! "those which are the least changed, without doubt by a more recent process of domestication, and because they do not live in a climate which is foreign to them, do not the less possess, in the condition of some of their parts, great differences produced by the habits which we have made them contract. thus our ducks and our domestic geese trace back their type to the wild ducks and geese; but ours have lost the power of rising into the high regions of the air, and of flying over extensive regions; finally, a decided change has been wrought in the state of their parts compared with that of animals of the race from which they have descended. "who does not know that such a native bird, which we raise in a cage and which lives there five or six years in succession, and after that replaced in nature--namely, set free--is then unable to fly like its fellows which have always been free? the slight change of circumstance operating on this individual has only diminished its power of flight, and doubtless has not produced any change in the shape of its parts. but if a numerous series of generations of individuals of the same race should have been kept in captivity for a considerable time, there is no doubt but that even the form of the parts of these individuals would gradually undergo notable changes. for a much stronger reason, if, instead of a simple captivity constantly maintained over them, this circumstance had been at the same time accompanied by a change to a very different climate, and if these individuals by degrees had been habituated to other kinds of food, and to other kinds of movements to obtain it; certainly these circumstances, united and becoming constant, would insensibly form a new and special race. "where do we find, in nature, this multitude of races of _dogs_, which, as the result of domesticity to which we have reduced these animals, have been brought into their present condition? where do we find these bull-dogs, greyhounds, water spaniels, spaniels, pug-dogs, etc., etc., races which present among themselves much greater differences than those which we admit to be specific in wild animals of the same genus? "without doubt, a primitive single race, very near the wolf, if it is not itself the true type, has been submitted by man, at some period, to the process of domestication. this race, which then offered no difference between its individuals, has been gradually dispersed by man into different countries, with different climates; and after a time these same individuals, having undergone the influences of their habitats, and of the different habits they were obliged to contract in each country, have undergone remarkable changes, and have formed different special races. now, the man who, for commercial reasons or from interests of any other kind, travels a very great distance, having carried into a densely populated place, as for example a great capital, different races of dogs originated in some very distant country, then the increase of these races by heredity (_génération_) has given rise successively to all those we now know. "the following fact proves, as regards plants, how a change in any important circumstance leads to a change in the parts of their organisms. "so long as _ranunculus aquatilis_ is submerged in the water, its leaves are all finely incised and the divisions hair-like; but when the stalks of this plant reach the surface of the water, the leaves which grow out in the air are wider, rounded, and simply lobed. if some feet from the same plant the roots succeed in pushing into a soil only damp, without being submerged, their stalks then are short, none of their leaves are divided into capillary divisions, which gives rise to _ranunculus hederaceus_, which the botanists regard as a species whenever they meet with it. "there is no doubt that as regards animals important changes in the circumstances under which they are accustomed to live do not produce alteration in their organs; for here the changes are much slower in operating than in plants, and, consequently, are to us less marked, and their cause less recognizable. "as to the circumstances which have so much power in modifying the organs of living beings, the most influential are, doubtless, the diversity of the surroundings in which they live; but besides this there are many others which, in addition, have a considerable influence in the production of the effects in question. "it is known that different localities change in nature and quality owing to their position, their nature, and their climate, as is easily seen in passing over different places distinguished by special features; hence we see a cause of variation for the animals and plants which live in these different places. but what we do not sufficiently know, and even what we generally refuse to believe, is that each place itself changes with time in exposure, in climate, in nature, and quality, although with a slowness so great in relation to our own continuance that we attribute to it a perfect stability. "now, in either case, these changed localities proportionally change the circumstances relative to the organisms which inhabit them, and the latter then give rise to other influences bearing on these same beings. "we perceive from this that, if there are extremes in these changes, there are also gradations--namely, degrees which are intermediate and which fill the interval. consequently there are also gradations in the differences which distinguish what we call _species_. "it is then evident that the whole surface of the earth offers, in the nature and situation of the matters which occupy its different points, a diversity of circumstances which is throughout in relation with that of the forms and parts of animals, independent of the special diversity which necessarily results from the progress of the composition of organization in each animal. "in each locality where animals can live, the circumstances which establish there an order of things remain for a long time the same, and really change there only with a slowness so great that man cannot directly notice them. he is obliged to consult monuments to recognize that in each one of these places the order of things that he discovers there has not always been the same, and to perceive that it will change more. "the races of animals which live in each of these places should, then, retain their customary habits there also for a long time; hence to us seems an apparent constancy of races which we call _species_--constancy which has originated among us the idea that these races are as ancient as nature. "but in the different points of the earth's surface which can be inhabited, nature and the situation of the places and climates constitute there, for the animals as for the plants, _different circumstances_ of all sorts of degrees. the animals which inhabit these different places should then differ from each other, not only on account of the state of nature of the organization in each race, but, besides, by reason of the habits that the individuals of each race there are forced to have; so, in proportion as he traverses the larger parts of the earth's surface the observing naturalist sees circumstances changing in a manner somewhat noticeable; he constantly sees that the species change proportionately in their characters. "now, the true order of things necessary to consider in all this consists in recognizing: " . that every slight change maintained under the circumstances where occur each race of animals, brings about in them a real change in their wants. " . that every change in the wants of animals necessitates in them other movements (_actions_) to satisfy the new needs, and consequently other habits. " . that every new want necessitating new actions to satisfy it, demands of the animal which feels it both the more frequent use of such of its parts of which before it made less use, which develops and considerably enlarges them, and the use of new parts which necessity has caused to insensibly develop in it by the effects of its inner feelings; which i shall constantly prove by known facts. "thus, to arrive at a knowledge of the true causes of so many different forms and so many different habits of which the known animals offer us examples, it is necessary to consider that circumstances infinitely diversified, but all slowly changing, into which the animals of each race are successively thrown, have caused, for each of them, new wants and necessarily changes in their habits. moreover, this truth, which cannot be denied, being once recognized, it will be easy to see how the new needs have been able to be satisfied, and the new habits formed, if any attention be given to the two following laws of nature, which observation always confirms: "_first law._ "in every animal which has not exceeded the term of its development, the more frequent and sustained use of any organ gradually strengthens this organ, develops and enlarges it, and gives it a strength proportioned to the length of time of such use; while the constant lack of use of such an organ imperceptibly weakens it, causes it to become reduced, progressively diminishes its faculties, and ends in its disappearance. "_second law._ "everything which nature has caused individuals to acquire or lose by the influence of the circumstances to which their race may be for a long time exposed, and consequently by the influence of the predominant use of such an organ, or by that of the constant lack of use of such part, it preserves by heredity (_génération_) and passes on to the new individuals which descend from it, provided that the changes thus acquired are common to both sexes, or to those which have given origin to these new individuals. "these are the two fundamental truths which can be misunderstood only by those who have never observed or followed nature in its operations, or only by those who allow themselves to fall into the error which i have combated. "naturalists having observed that the forms of the parts of animals compared with the uses of these parts are always in perfect accord, have thought that the forms and conditions of parts have caused the function; but this is a mistake, for it is easy to demonstrate by observation that it is, on the contrary, the needs and uses of organs which have developed these same parts, which have even given origin to them where they did not exist, and which consequently have given rise to the condition in which we observe them in each animal. "if this were not so, it would have been necessary for nature to have created for the parts of animals as many forms as the diversity of circumstances in which they have to live had required, and that these forms and also the circumstances had never varied. "this is certainly not the existing order of things, and if it were really such, we should not have the race-horses of england; we should not have our great draft horses, so clumsy and so different from the first named, for nature herself has not produced their like; we should not, for the same reason, have terrier dogs with bow legs, greyhounds so swift in running, water-spaniels, etc.; we should not have tailless fowls, fantail pigeons, etc.; finally, we could cultivate the wild plants as much as we pleased in the rich and fertile soil of our gardens without fearing to see them change by long culture. "for a long time we have felt the force of the saying which has passed into the well-known proverb--_habits form a second nature_. "assuredly, if the habits and nature of each animal can never vary, the proverb is false, has no foundation, and does not apply to the instances which led to its being spoken. "if we should seriously consider all that i have just stated, it might be thought that i had good reason when in my work entitled _recherches sur les corps vivans_ (p.  ) i established the following proposition: "'it is not the organs--that is to say, the nature and form of the parts of the body of an animal--which have given rise to its habits and its special faculties; but it is, on the contrary, its habits, its manner of life, and the circumstances in which are placed the individuals from which it originates, which have, with time, brought about the form of its body, the number and condition of its organs, finally, the faculties which it enjoys.' "if we weigh this proposition, and if we recall all the observations which nature and the state of things continually lead us to do, then its importance and its solidity will become more evident. "time and favorable circumstances are, as i have already said, the two principal means which nature employs to give existence to all her productions: we know that time for her has no limits, and that consequently it is ever at her disposal. "as to the circumstances of which she has need, and which she uses still daily to cause variations in all that she continues to produce, we can say that they are, in some degree, for her inexhaustible. "the principal circumstances arise from the influence of climate; from those of different temperatures of the atmosphere, and from all the environing media; from that of the diversity of different localities and their situation; from that of habits, the ordinary movements, the most frequent actions; finally, from that of means of preservation, of mode of living, of defence, of reproduction, etc. "moreover, owing to these diverse influences, the faculties increase and become stronger by use, become differentiated by the new habits preserved for long ages, and insensibly the organization, the consistence--in a word, the nature and condition of parts, as also of the organs--participate in the results of all these influences, become preserved, and are propagated by generation. "these truths, which are only the results of the two natural laws above stated, are in every case completely confirmed by facts; they clearly indicate the course of nature in all the diversity of its products. "but instead of contenting ourselves with generalities which might be considered as hypothetical, let us directly examine the facts, and consider, in the animals, the result of the use or disuse of their organs on the organs themselves, according to the habits that each race has been compelled to contract. "i shall now attempt to prove that the constant lack of exercise of organs at first diminishes their faculties, gradually impoverishes them, and ends by making them disappear, or even causing them to be atrophied, if this lack of use is perpetuated for a very long time through successive generations of animals of the same race. "i shall next prove that, on the contrary, the habit of exercising an organ, in every animal which has not attained the limit of the diminution of its faculties, not only perfects and increases the faculties of this organ, but, besides, enables it to acquire developments and dimensions which insensibly change it; so that with time it renders it very different from the same organ in another animal which exercises it much less. "_the lack of use of an organ, become constant by the habits formed, gradually impoverishes this organ, and ends by causing it to disappear and even to destroy it._ "as such a proposition can only be admitted on proof, and not by its simple announcement, let us prove it by the citation of the leading known facts on which it is based. "the vertebrate animals, whose plan of organization is in all nearly the same, although they offer much diversity in their parts, have jaws armed with _teeth_; moreover, those among them which circumstances have placed in the habit of swallowing their food without previous _mastication_ are exposed to the result that their teeth become undeveloped. these teeth, then, either remain concealed between the bony edges of the jaws, without appearing above, or even their gums are found to have been atrophied. "in the baleen whales, which have been supposed to be completely deprived of teeth, m. geoffroy has found them concealed in the jaws of the _foetus_ of this animal. this professor has also found in the birds the groove where the teeth should be situated; but they are no longer to be seen there. "in the class even of mammals, which comprises the most perfect animals, and chiefly those in which the vertebrate plan of organization is most perfectly carried out, not only the baleen has no usable teeth, but the ant-eater (_myrmecophaga_) is also in the same condition, whose habit of not masticating its food has been for a long time established and preserved in its race. "the presence of eyes in the head is a characteristic of a great number of different animals, and becomes an essential part of the plan of organization of vertebrates. "nevertheless the mole, which owing to its habits makes very little use of vision, has only very small eyes, which are scarcely visible, since they exercise these organs to a very slight extent. "the _aspalax_ of olivier (_voyage en egypte et en perse_, ii. pl.  f.  ), which lives under ground like the mole, and which probably exposes itself still less than that animal to the light of day, has totally lost the power of sight; also it possesses only vestiges of the organ of which it is the seat; and yet these vestiges are wholly concealed under the skin and other parts which cover them, and do not permit the least access to the light. "the _proteus_, an aquatic reptile allied to the salamander in its structure, and which lives in the dark subterranean waters of deep caves, has, like the _aspalax_, only vestiges of the organs of sight--vestiges which are covered and concealed in the same manner. "we turn to a decisive consideration relative to this question. "light does not penetrate everywhere; consequently animals which habitually live in situations where it does not penetrate lack the occasion of exercising the organs of sight, if nature has provided them with them. moreover, the animals which make part of the plan of organization in which _eyes_ are necessarily present, have originally had them. however, since we find them among those which are deprived of the use of this organ, and which have only vestiges concealed and covered over, it should be evident that the impoverishment and even the disappearance of these organs are the result of a constant lack of exercise. "what proves it is that the organ of _hearing_ is never in this condition, and that we always find it in the animals when the nature of their organization should require its existence; the reason is as follows. "the _cause of sound_, that which, moved by the shock or the vibrations of bodies, transmits to the organ of hearing the impression which it receives, penetrates everywhere, traverses all the media, and even the mass of the densest bodies: from this it results that every animal which makes a part of a plan of organization to which _hearing_ is essential, has always occasion to exercise this organ in whatever situation it lives. so, among the _vertebrate animals_ we see none deprived of their organs of hearing; but in the groups below them, when the same organs are once wanting, we do not again find them. "it is not so with the organ of sight, for we see this organ disappear, reappear, and again disappear, in proportion to the possibility or impossibility of the animal's exercising it. "in the _acephalous molluscs_, the great development of the mantle of these molluscs has rendered their eyes and even their head entirely useless. these organs, also forming a part of a plan of organization which should comprise them, have disappeared and atrophied from constant lack of use. "finally, it is a part of the plan of organization of _reptiles_, as in other vertebrate animals, to have four legs appended to their skeleton. the serpents should consequently have four, though they do not form the lowest order of reptiles, and are not so near the fishes as the batrachians (the frogs, the salamanders, etc.). "however, the serpents having taken up the habit of gliding along the ground, and of concealing themselves in the grass, their body, owing to continually repeated efforts to elongate itself so as to pass through narrow spaces, has acquired a considerable length disproportionate to its size. moreover, limbs would have been very useless to these animals, and consequently would not have been employed: because long legs would have interfered with their need of gliding, and very short legs, not being more than four in number, would have been incapable of moving their body. hence the lack of use of these parts having been constant in the races of these animals, has caused the total disappearance of these same parts, although really included in the plan of organization of the animals of their class. "many insects which by the natural character of their order, and even of their genus, should have wings, lack them more or less completely from disuse. a quantity of coleoptera, orthoptera, hymenoptera, and of hemiptera, etc., afford examples; the habits of these animals do not require them to make use of their wings. "but it is not sufficient to give the explanation of the cause which has brought about the condition of the organs of different animals--a condition which we see to be always the same in those of the same species; we must besides observe the changes of condition produced in the organs of one and the same individual during its life, by the single result of a great change in the special habits in the individuals of its species. the following fact, which is one of the most remarkable, will serve to prove the influence of habits on the condition of organs, and show how changes wrought in the habits of an individual, produce the condition of the organs which are brought into action during the exercise of these habits. "m. tenon, member of the institute, has given an account to the class of sciences, that having examined the intestinal canal of several men who had been hard drinkers all their lives, he had constantly found it to be shortened to an extraordinary extent, compared with the same organ in those not given to such a habit. "we know that hard drinkers, or those who are addicted to drunkenness, take very little solid food, that they eat very lightly, and that the beverage which they take in excess frequently suffices to nourish them. "moreover, as fluid aliments, especially spirituous liquors, do not remain a long time either in the stomach or in the intestines, the stomach and the remainder of the intestinal canal lose the habit of being distended in intemperate persons, so also in sedentary persons and those engaged in mental labor, who are habituated to take but little food. gradually and at length their stomach becomes contracted, and their intestines shortened. "we are not concerned here with the shrinkage and shortening produced by a puckering of the parts, which permit ordinary extension, if instead of a continued emptiness these viscera should be filled; the shrinkage and shortening in question are real, considerable, and such that these organs would burst open rather than yield suddenly to the causes which would require ordinary extension. "in circumstances of persons of the same age, compare a man who, in order to devote himself to habitual study and mental work, which have rendered his digestion more difficult, has contracted the habit of eating lightly, with another who habitually takes a good deal of exercise, walks out often, and eats heartily; the stomach of the first will be weakened, and a small quantity of food will fill it, while that of the second will be not only maintained in its ordinary health but even strengthened. "we have here the case of an organ much modified in its dimensions and in its faculties by the single cause of a change in habits during the life of the individual. "_the frequent use of an organ become constant by habit increases the faculties of this organ, even develops it, and enables it to acquire dimensions and a power of action which it does not possess in animals which exercise less._ "we have just said that the lack of employment of an organ which necessarily exists modifies it, impoverishes it, and ends by its disappearing entirely. "i shall now demonstrate that the continued employment of an organ, with the efforts made to draw out its powers under circumstances where it would be of service, strengthens, extends, and enlarges this organ, or creates a new one which can exercise the necessary functions. "the bird which necessity drives to the water to find there prey fitted for its sustenance, opens the digits of its feet when it wishes to strike the water and propel itself along its surface. the skin which unites these digits at their base, by these acts of spreading apart being unceasingly repeated contracts the habit of extending; so that after a while the broad membranes which connect the digits of ducks, geese, etc., are formed as we see them. the same efforts made in swimming--_i.e._, in pushing back the water, in order to advance and to move in this liquid--have likewise extended the membrane situated between the digits of the frogs, the sea-turtles, the otter, beaver, etc. "on the contrary, the bird whose mode of life habituates it to perch on trees, and which is born of individuals who have all contracted this habit, has necessarily the digits of the feet longer and shaped in another way than those of the aquatic animals which i have just mentioned. its claws, after a while, became elongated, pointed, and curved or hook-like in order to grasp the branches on which the animal often rests. "likewise we see that the shore bird, which is not inclined to swim, and which moreover has need of approaching the edge of the water to find there its prey, is in continual danger of sinking in the mud. now, this bird, wishing to act so that its body shall not fall into the water, makes every effort to extend and elongate its legs. it results from this that the long-continued habit that this bird and the others of its race contract, of extending and continually elongating their legs, is the _cause_ of the individuals of this race being raised as if on stilts, having gradually acquired long, naked legs, which are denuded of feathers up to the thighs and often above them (_système des animaux sans vertèbres_, p.  ). "we also perceive that the same bird, wishing to catch fish without wetting its body, is obliged to make continual efforts to lengthen its neck. now, the results of these habitual efforts in this individual and in those of its race have enabled them, after a time, to singularly elongate them--as, indeed, is proved by the long neck of all shore birds. "if any swimming birds, such as the swan and the goose, whose legs are short, nevertheless have a very long neck, it is because these birds in swimming on the surface of the water have the habit of plunging their head down as far as they can, to catch aquatic larvæ and different animalcules for food, and because they make no effort to lengthen their legs. "when an animal to satisfy its wants makes repeated efforts to elongate its tongue, it will acquire a considerable length (the ant-eater, green wood-pecker); when it is obliged to seize anything with this same organ, then its tongue will divide and become forked. that of the humming-birds, which seize with their tongue, and that of the lizard and serpents, which use it to feel and examine objects in front of them, are proofs of what i advocate. "wants, always occasioned by circumstances, and followed by sustained efforts to satisfy them, are not limited in results, in modifying--that is to say, in increasing or diminishing--the extent and the faculties of organs; but they also come to displace these same organs when certain of these wants become a necessity. "the fishes which habitually swim in large bodies of water, having need of seeing laterally, have, in fact, their eyes placed on the sides of the head. their bodies, more or less flattened according to the _species_, have their sides perpendicular to the plane of the water, and their eyes are placed in such a way that there is an eye on each flattened side. but those fishes whose habits place them under the necessity of constantly approaching the shores, and especially the shelving banks or where the slope is slight, have been forced to swim on their flattened faces, so as to be able to approach nearer the edge of the water. in this situation, receiving more light from above than from beneath, and having a special need of being always attentive to what is going on above them, this need has forced one of their eyes to undergo a kind of displacement, and to assume the very singular situation which is familiar to us in the _soles_, _turbots_, _dabs_, etc. (_pleuronectes_ and _achirus_). the situation of these eyes is asymmetrical, because this results from an incomplete change. now, this change is entirely completed in the rays, where the transverse flattening of the body is entirely horizontal, as also the head. also the eyes of the rays, both situated on the upper side, have become symmetrical. "the serpents which glide along the surface of the ground are obliged chiefly to see elevated objects, or what are above their eyes. this necessity has brought an influence to bear on the situation of the organs of vision in these animals; and, in fact, they have the eyes placed in the lateral and upper parts of the head, so as to easily perceive what is above or at their sides; but they only see for a short distance what is in front of them. moreover, forced to supply the lack of ability to see and recognize what is in front of their head, and which might injure them, they need only to feel such objects with the aid of their tongue, which they are obliged to dart out with all their power. this habit has not only contributed to render the tongue slender, very long and retractile, but has also led in a great number of species to its division, so as to enable them to feel several objects at once; it has likewise allowed them to form an opening at the end of their head, to enable the tongue to dart out without their being obliged to open their jaws. "nothing is more remarkable than the result of habits in the herbivorous mammals. "the quadruped to whom circumstances and the wants which they have created have given for a long period, as also to others of its race, the habit of browsing on grass, only walks on the ground, and is obliged to rest there on its four feet the greater part of its life, moving about very little, or only to a moderate extent. the considerable time which this sort of creature is obliged to spend each day to fill itself with the only kind of food which it requires, leads it to move about very little, so that it uses its legs only to stand on the ground, to walk, or run, and they never serve to seize hold of or to climb trees. "from this habit of daily consuming great amounts of food which distend the organs which receive it, and of only moving about to a limited extent, it has resulted that the bodies of these animals are thick, clumsy, and massive, and have acquired a very great volume, as we see in elephants, rhinoceroses, oxen, buffaloes, horses, etc. "the habit of standing upright on their four feet during the greater part of the day to browse has given origin to a thick hoof which envelops the extremity of the digits of their feet; and as their toes are not trained to make any movement, and because they have served no other use than as supports, as also the rest of the leg, the most of them are short, are reduced in size, and even have ended by totally disappearing. thus in the _pachyderms_, some have five toes enveloped in horn, and consequently their foot is divided into five parts; others have only four, and still others only three. but in the _ruminants_, which seem to be the most ancient of mammals, which are limited only to standing on the ground, there are only two digits on each foot, and only a single one is to be found in the _solipedes_ (the horse, the ass). "moreover, among these herbivorous animals, and especially among the ruminants, it has been found that from the circumstances of the desert countries they inhabit they are incessantly exposed to be the prey of carnivorous animals, and find safety only in precipitous flight. necessity has forced them to run swiftly; and from the habit they have thus acquired their body has become slenderer and their limbs much more delicate: we see examples in the antelopes, the gazelles, etc. "other dangers in our climate to which are continually exposed the deer, the roebuck, the fallow-deer, of perishing from the chase made by man, have reduced them to the same necessity, restrained them to similar habits, and have given rise to the same results. "the ruminating animals only using their legs as supports, and not having strong jaws, which are only exercised in cutting and browsing on grass, can only fight by striking with the head, by directing against each other the _vertex_ of this part. "in their moments of anger, which are frequent, especially among the males, their internal feelings, by their efforts, more strongly urge the fluids toward this part of their head, and it there secretes the corneous matter in some, and osseous matter mixed with corneous matter in others, which gives origin to solid protuberances; hence the origin of horns and antlers, with which most of these animals have the head armed. "as regards habits, it is curious to observe the results in the special form and height of the giraffe (_camelopardalis_); we know that this animal, the tallest of mammals, inhabits the interior of africa, and that it lives in localities where the earth, almost always arid and destitute of herbage, obliges it to browse on the foliage of trees, and to make continual efforts to reach it. it has resulted from this habit, maintained for a long period in all the individuals of its race, that its forelegs have become longer than the hinder ones, and that its neck is so elongated that the giraffe, without standing on its hind legs, raises its head and reaches six meters in height (almost twenty feet). "among the birds, the ostriches, deprived of the power of flight, and raised on very long legs, probably owe their singular conformation to analogous circumstances. "the result of habits is as remarkable in the carnivorous mammals as it is in the herbivorous, but it presents effects of another kind. "indeed, those of these mammals which are habituated, as their race, both to climb as well as to scratch or dig in the ground, or to tear open and kill other animals for food, have been obliged to use the digits of their feet; moreover, this habit has favored the separation of their digits, and has formed the claws with which they are armed. "but among the carnivores there are some which are obliged to run in order to overtake their prey; moreover, since these need and consequently have the habit of daily tearing with their claws and burying them deeply in the body of another animal, to seize and then to tear the flesh, and have been enabled by their repeated efforts to procure for these claws a size and curvature which would greatly interfere in walking or running on stony soil, it has resulted in this case that the animal has been obliged to make other efforts to draw back these too salient and curved claws which would impede it, and hence there has resulted the gradual formation of those special sheaths in which the cats, tigers, lions, etc., withdraw their claws when not in action. "thus the efforts in any direction whatever, maintained for a long time or made habitually by certain parts of a living body to satisfy necessities called out by nature or by circumstances, develop these parts and make them acquire dimensions and a shape which they never would have attained if these efforts had not become the habitual action of the animals which have exercised them. the observations made on all the animals known will everywhere furnish examples. "can any of them be more striking than that which the _kangaroo_ offers us? this animal, which carries its young in its abdominal pouch, has adopted the habit of holding itself erect, standing only on its hind feet and tail, and only changing its position by a series of leaps, in which it preserves its erect attitude so as not to injure its young. "let us see the result: " . its fore legs, of which it makes little use, and on which it rests only during the instant when it leaves its erect attitude, have never reached a development proportionate to that of the other parts, and have remained thin, very small, and weak; " . the hind legs, almost continually in action, both for supporting the body and for leaping, have, on the contrary, obtained a considerable development, and have become very large and strong; " . finally, the tail, which we see is of much use in supporting the animal and in the performance of its principal movements, has acquired at its base a thickness and a strength extremely remarkable. "these well-known facts are assuredly well calculated to prove what results from the habitual use in the animals of any organ or part; and if, when there is observed in an animal an organ especially well developed, strong, and powerful, it is supposed that its habitual use has not produced it, that its continual disuse will make it lose nothing, and, finally, that this organ has always been such since the creation of the species to which this animal belongs, i will ask why our domestic ducks cannot fly like wild ducks--in a word, i might cite a multitude of examples which prove the differences in us resulting from the exercise or lack of use of such of our organs, although these differences might not be maintained in the individuals which follow them genetically, for then their products would be still more considerable. "i shall prove, in the second part, that when the will urges an animal to any action, the organs which should execute this action are immediately provoked by the affluence of subtile fluids (the nervous fluid), which then become the determining cause which calls for the action in question. a multitude of observations prove this fact, which is now indisputable. "it results that the multiplied repetitions of these acts of organization strengthen, extend, develop, and even create the organs which are necessary. it is only necessary attentively to observe that which is everywhere occurring to convince ourselves of the well-grounded basis of this cause of organic developments and changes. "moreover, every change acquired in an organ by a habit of use sufficient to have produced it is then preserved by heredity (_génération_) if it is common to the individuals which, in fecundation, unite in the reproduction of their species. finally, this change is propagated, and thus is transmitted to all the individuals which succeed and which are submitted to the same circumstances, unless they have been obliged to acquire it by the means which have in reality created it. "besides, in reproductive unions the crossings between the individuals which have different qualities or forms are necessarily opposed to the continuous propagation of these qualities and these forms. we see that in man, who is exposed to so many diverse circumstances which exert an influence on him, the qualities or the accidental defects which he has been in the way of acquiring, are thus prevented from being preserved and propagated by generation. if, when some particular features of form or any defects are acquired, two individuals under this condition should always pair, they would reproduce the same features, and the successive generations being confined to such unions, a special and distinct race would then be formed. but perpetual unions between individuals which do not have the same peculiarities of form would cause all the characteristics acquired by special circumstances to disappear. "from this we can feel sure that if distances of habitation did not separate men the intermixture by generation would cause the general characteristics which distinguish the different nations to disappear. "if i should choose to pass in review all the classes, all the orders, all the genera, and all the species of animals which exist, i should show that the structure of individuals and their parts, their organs, their faculties, etc., etc., are in all cases the sole result of the circumstances in which each species is found to be subjected by nature and by the habits which the individuals which compose it have been obliged to contract, and which are only the product of a power primitively existing, which has forced the animals into their well-known habits. "we know that the animal called the _ai_, or the sloth (_bradypus tridactylus_), is throughout life in a condition so very feeble that it is very slow and limited in its movements, and that it walks on the ground with much difficulty. its movements are so slow that it is thought that it cannot walk more than fifty steps in a day. it is also known that the structure of this animal is in direct relation with its feeble state or its inaptitude for walking; and that should it desire to make any other movements than those which it is seen to make, it could not do it. "therefore, supposing that this animal had received from nature its well-known organization, it is said that this organization has forced it to adopt the habits and the miserable condition it is in. "i am far from thinking so; because i am convinced that the habits which the individuals of the race of the _ai_ were originally compelled to contract have necessarily brought their organization into its actual state. "since continual exposure to dangers has at some time compelled the individuals of this species to take refuge in trees and to live in them permanently, and then feed on their leaves, it is evident that then they would give up making a multitude of movements that animals which live on the ground perform. "all the needs of the _ai_ would then be reduced to seizing hold of the branches, to creeping along them or to drawing them in so as to reach the leaves, and then to remain on the tree in a kind of inaction, so as to prevent falling. besides, this kind of sluggishness would be steadily provoked by the heat of the climate; for in warm-blooded animals the heat urges them rather to repose than to activity. "moreover, during a long period of time the individuals of the race of the _ai_ having preserved the habit of clinging to trees and of making only slow and slightly varied movements, just sufficient for their needs, their organization has gradually become adapted to their new habits, and from this it will result: " . that the arms of these animals making continual efforts readily to embrace the branches of trees, would become elongated; " . that the nails of their digits would acquire much length and a hooked shape, by the continued efforts of the animal to retain its hold; " . that their digits never having been trained to make special movements, would lose all mobility among themselves, would become united, and would only preserve the power of bending or of straightening out all together; " . that their thighs, continually embracing both the trunks and the larger branches of trees, would contract a condition of habitual separation which would tend to widen the pelvis and to cause the cotyloid cavities to be directed backward; " . finally, that a great number of their bones would become fused, and hence several parts of their skeleton would assume an arrangement and a figure conformed to the habits of these animals, and contrary to what would be necessary for them to have for other habits. "indeed, this can never be denied, because, in fact, nature on a thousand other occasions shows us, in the power exercised by circumstances on habits, and in that of the influence of habits on forms, dispositions, and the proportion of the parts of animals, truly analogous facts. "a great number of citations being unnecessary, we now see to what the case under discussion is reduced. "the fact is that divers animals have each, according to their genus and their species, special habits, and in all cases an organization which is perfectly adapted to these habits. "from the consideration of this fact, it appears that we should be free to admit either one or the other of the following conclusions, and that only one of them is susceptible of proof. "_conclusion admitted up to this day_: nature (or its author), in creating the animals, has foreseen all the possible kinds of circumstances in which they should live, and has given to each species an unchanging organization, as also a form determinate and invariable in its different parts, which compels each species to live in the places and in the climate where we find it, and has there preserved its known habits. "_my own conclusion_: nature, in producing in succession every species of animal, and beginning with the least perfect or the simplest to end her work with the most perfect, has gradually complicated their structure; and these animals spreading generally throughout all the inhabitable regions of the globe, each species has received, through the influence of circumstances to which it has been exposed, the habits which we have observed, and the modifications in its organs which observation has shown us it possesses. "the first of these two conclusions is that believed up to the present day--namely, that held by nearly every one; it implies, in each animal, an unchanging organization and parts which have never varied, and which will never vary; it implies also that the circumstances of the places which each species of animal inhabits will never vary in these localities; for should they vary, the same animals could not live there, and the possibility of discovering similar forms elsewhere, and of transporting them there, would be forbidden. "the second conclusion is my own: it implies that, owing to the influence of circumstances on habits, and as the result of that of habits on the condition of the parts and even on that of the organization, each animal may receive in its parts and its organization, modifications susceptible of becoming very considerable, and of giving rise to the condition in which we find all animals. "to maintain that this second conclusion is unfounded, it is necessary at first to prove that each point of the surface of the globe never varies in its nature, its aspect, its situation whether elevated or depressed, its climate, etc., etc.; and likewise to prove that any part of animals does not undergo, even at the end of a long period, any modification by changes of circumstances, and by the necessity which directs them to another kind of life and action than that which is habitual to them. "moreover, if a single fact shows that an animal for a long time under domestication differs from the wild form from which it has descended, and if in such a species in domesticity we find a great difference in conformation between the individuals submitted to such habits and those restricted to different habits, then it will be certain that the first conclusion does not conform to the laws of nature, and that, on the contrary, the second is perfectly in accord with them. "everything combines then to prove my assertion--namely, that it is not the form, either of the body or of its parts, which gives rise to habits, and to the mode of life among animals; but that it is on the contrary the habits, the manner of living, and all the other influencing circumstances which have, after a time, constituted the form of the body and of the parts of animals. with the new forms, new faculties have been acquired, and gradually nature has come to form the animals as we actually see them. "can there be in natural history a consideration more important, and to which we should give more attention, than that which i have just stated? "we will end this first part with the principles and the exposition of the natural classification of animals." in the fourth chapter of the third part (vol. ii. pp.  - ) lamarck treats of the internal feelings of certain animals, which provoke wants (_besoins_). this is the subject which has elicited so much adverse criticism and ridicule, and has in many cases led to the wholesale rejection of all of lamarck's views. it is generally assumed or stated by lamarck's critics, who evidently did not read his book carefully, that while he claimed that the plants were evolved by the direct action of the physical factors, that in the case of all the animals the process was indirect. but this is not correct. he evidently, as we shall see, places the lowest animals, those without (or what he supposed to be without) a nervous system, in the same category as the plants. he distinctly states at the outset that only certain animals and man are endowed with this singular faculty, "which consists in being able to experience _internal emotions_ which provoke the wants and different external or internal causes, and which give birth to the power which enables them to perform different actions." "the nervous fluid," he says, "can, then, undergo movements in certain parts of its mass, as well as in every part at once; moreover, it is these latter movements which constitute the _general movements_ (_ébranlements_) of this fluid, and which we now proceed to consider. "the general movements of the nervous fluid are of two kinds; namely, " . partial movements (_ébranlements_), which finally become general and end in a reaction. it is the movements of this sort which produce feeling. we have treated of them in the third chapter. " . the movements which are general from the time they begin, and which form no reaction. it is these which constitute internal emotions, and it is of them alone of which we shall treat. "but previously, it is necessary to say a word regarding the _feeling of existence_, because this feeling is the source from which the inner emotions originate. "_on the feeling of existence._ "the feeling of existence (_sentiment d'existence_), which i shall call _inner feeling_,[ ] so as to separate from it the idea of a general condition (_généralité_) which it does not possess, since it is not common to all living beings and not even to all animals, is a very obscure feeling, with which are endowed those animals provided with a nervous system sufficiently developed to give them the faculty of feeling. "this sentiment, very obscure as it is, is nevertheless very powerful, for it is the source of inner emotions which test (_éprouvent_) the individuals possessing it, and, as the result, this singular force urges these individuals to themselves produce the movements and the actions which their wants require. moreover this feeling, considered as a very active _motor_, only acts thus by sending to the muscles which necessarily cause these movements and actions the nervous fluid which excites them.... "indeed, as the result of organic or vital movements which are produced in every animal, that which possesses a nervous system sufficiently developed has physical sensibility and continually receives in every inner and sensitive part impressions which continually affect it, and which it feels in general without being able to distinguish any single one. "the sentiment of existence [consciousness] is general, since almost every sensitive part of the body shares in it. 'it constitutes this _me_ (_moi_) with which all animals, which are only sensitive, are penetrated, without perceiving it, but which those possessing a brain are able to notice, having the power of thought and of giving attention to it. finally, it is in all the source of a power which is aroused by wants, which acts effectively only by emotion, and through which the movements and actions derive the force which produces them'.... "finally, the inner feeling only manifests its power, and causes movements, when there exists a system for muscular movement, which is always dependent on the nervous system, and cannot take place without it." the author then states that these emotions of the organic sense may operate in the animals and in man either without or with an act of their will. "from what has been said, we cannot doubt but that the inner and general feeling which urges the animals possessing a nervous system fitted for feeling should be susceptible of being aroused by the causes which affect it; moreover, these causes are always the need both of satisfying hunger, of escaping dangers, of avoiding pain, of seeking pleasure, or that which is agreeable to the individual, etc. "the emotions of the inner feeling can only be recognized by man, who alone pays attention to them, but he only perceives those which are strong, which excite his whole being, such as a view from a precipice, a tragic scene, etc." lamarck then divides the emotions into physical and moral, the latter arising from our ideas, thoughts--in short, our intellectual acts--in the account of which we need not follow him. in the succeeding chapter (v.) the author dilates on the force which causes actions in animals. "we know," he says "that plants can satisfy their needs without moving, since they find their food in the environing _milieux_. but it is not the same with animals, which are obliged to move about to procure their sustenance. moreover, most of them have other wants to satisfy, which require other kinds of movements and acts." this matter is discussed in the author's often leisurely and prolix way, with more or less repetition, which we will condense. the lowest animals--those destitute of a nervous system--move in response to a stimulus from without. nature has gradually created the different organs of animals, varying the structure and situation of these organs according to circumstances, and has progressively improved their powers. she has begun by borrowing from without, so to speak--from the environment--the _productive force_, both of organic movements and those of the external parts. "she has thus transported this force [the result of heat, electricity, and perhaps others (p.  )] into the animal itself, and, finally, in the most perfect animals she has placed a great part of this force at their disposal, as i will soon show." this force incessantly introduced into the lowest animals sets in motion the visible fluids of the body and excites the irritability of their contained parts, giving rise to different contractile movements which we observe; hence the appearance of an irresistible propensity (_penchant_) which constrains them to execute those movements which by their continuity or their repetition give rise to habits. the most imperfect animals, such as the _infusoria_, especially the monads, are nourished by absorption and by "an internal inhibition of absorbed matters." "they have," he says, "no power of seeking their food, they have not even the power of recognizing it, but they absorb it because it comes in contact with every side of them (_avec tous les points de leur individu_), and because the water in which they live furnishes it to them in sufficient abundance." "these frail animals, in which the subtile fluids of the environing _milieux_ constitute the stimulating cause of the orgasm, of irritability and of organic movements, execute, as i have said, contractile movements which, provoked and varied without ceasing by this stimulating cause, facilitate and hasten the absorptions of which i have just spoken." ... _on the transportation of the force-producing movements in the interior of animals._ "if nature were confined to the employment of its first means--namely, of a force entirely external and foreign to the animal--its work would have remained very important; the animals would have remained machines totally passive, and she would never have given origin in any of these living beings to the admirable phenomena of sensibility, of inmost feelings of existence which result therefrom, of the power of action, finally, of ideas, by which she can create the most wonderful of all, that of thought--in a word, intelligence. "but, wishing to attain these grand results, she has by slow degrees prepared the means, in gradually giving consistence to the internal parts of animals; in differentiating the organs, and in multiplying and farther forming the fluids contained, etc., after which she has transported into the interior of these animals that force productive of movements and of actions which in truth it would not dominate at first, but which she has come to place, in great part, at their disposition when their organization should become very much more perfect. "indeed, from the time that the animal organization had sufficiently advanced in its structure to possess a nervous system--even slightly developed, as in insects--the animals provided with this organization were endowed with an intimate sense of their existence, and from that time the force productive of movements was conveyed into the very interior of the animal. "i have already made it evident that this internal force which produces movements and actions should derive its origin in the intimate feeling of existence which animals with a nervous system possess, and that this feeling, solicited or aroused by needs, should then start into motion the subtile fluid contained in the nerves and carry it to the muscles which should act, this producing the actions which the needs require. "moreover, every want felt produces an emotion in the inner feeling of the individual which experiences it; and from this emotion of the feeling in question arises the force which gives origin to the movement of the parts which are placed in activity.... "thus, in the animals which possess the power of acting--namely, the force productive of movements and actions--the inner feeling, which on each occasion originates this force, being excited by some need, places in action the power or force in question; excites the movement of displacement in the subtile fluid of the nerves--which the ancients called _animal spirits_; directs this fluid towards that of its organs which any want impels to action; finally makes this same fluid flow back into its habitual reservoirs when the needs no longer require the organ to act. "the inner feeling takes the place of the _will_; for it is now important to consider that every animal which does not possess the special organ in which or by which it executes thoughts, judgments, etc., has in reality no will, does not make a choice, and consequently cannot control the movements which its inner feeling excites. _instinct_ directs these actions, and we shall see that this direction always results from emotions of the inner feeling, in which intelligence has no part, and from the organization even which the habits have modified, in such a manner that the needs of animals which are in this category, being necessarily limited and always the same in the same species, the inner feeling and, consequently, the power of acting, always produces the same actions. "it is not the same in animals which besides a nervous system have a brain [the author meaning the higher vertebrates], and which make comparisons, judgments, thoughts, etc. these same animals control more or less their power of action according to the degree of perfection of their brain; and although they are still strongly subjected to the results of their habits, which have modified their structure, they enjoy more or less freedom of the will, can choose, and can vary their acts, or at least some of them." lamarck then treats of the consumption and exhaustion of the nervous fluid in the production of animal movements, resulting in fatigue. he next occupies himself with the origin of the inclination to the same actions, and of instinct in animals. "the cause of the well-known phenomenon which constrains almost all animals to always perform the same acts, and that which gives rise in man to a propensity (_penchant_) to repeat every action, becoming habitual, assuredly merits investigation. "the animals which are only 'sensible'[ ]--namely, which possess no brain, cannot think, reason, or perform intelligent acts, and their perceptions being often very confused--do not reason and can scarcely vary their actions. they are, then, invariably bound by habits. thus the insects, which of all animals endowed with feeling have the least perfect nervous system,[ ] have perceptions of objects which affect them, and seem to have memory of them when they are repeated. yet they can vary their actions and change their habits, though they do not possess the organ whose acts could give them the means. "_on the instincts of animals._ "we define instinct as the sum (_ensemble_) of the decisions (_déterminations_) of animals in their actions; and, indeed, some have thought that these determinations were the product of a rational choice, and consequently the fruit of experience. others, says cabanis, may think with the observers of all ages that several of these decisions should not be ascribed to any kind of reasoning, and that, without ceasing as for that to have their source in physical sensibility, they are most often formed without the will of the individuals able to have any other part than in better directing the execution. it should be added, without the will having any part in it; for when it does not act, it does not, of course, direct the execution. "if it had been considered that all the animals which enjoy the power of sensation have their inner feeling susceptible of being aroused by their needs, and that the movements of their nervous fluids, which result from these emotions, are constantly directed by this inner sentiment and by habits, then it has been felt that in all the animals deprived of intelligence all the decisions of action can never be the result of a rational choice, of judgment, of profitable experience--in a word, of will--but that they are subjected to needs which certain sensations excite, and which awaken the inclinations which urge them on. "in the animals even which enjoy the power of performing certain intelligent acts, it is still more often the inner feeling and the inclinations originating from habits which decide, without choice, the acts which animals perform. "moreover, although the executing power of movements and of actions, as also the cause which directs them, should be entirely internal, it is not well, as has been done,[ ] to limit to internal impressions the primary cause or provocation of these acts, with the intention to restrict to external impressions that which provokes intelligent acts; for, from what few facts are known bearing on these considerations, we are convinced that, either way, the causes which arouse and provoke acts are sometimes internal and sometimes external, that these same causes give rise in reality to impressions all of which act internally. "according to the idea generally attached to the word _instinct_ the faculty which this word expresses is considered as a light which illuminates and guides animals in their actions, and which is with them what reason is to us. no one has shown that instinct can be a force which calls into action; that this force acts effectively without any participation of the will, and that it is constantly directed by acquired inclinations." there are, the author states, two kinds of causes which can arouse the inner feeling (organic sense)--namely, those which depend on intellectual acts, and those which, without arising from it, immediately excite it and force it to direct its power of acting in the direction of acquired inclinations. "these are the only causes of this last kind, which constitute all the acts of _instinct_; and as these acts are not the result of deliberation, of choice, of judgment, the actions which arise from them always satisfy, surely and without error, the wants felt and the propensities arising from habits. "hence, _instinct_ in animals is an inclination which necessitates that from sensations provoked while giving rise to wants the animal is impelled to act without the participation of any thought or any act of the will. "this propensity owes to the organization what the habits have modified in its favor, and it is excited by impressions and wants which arouse the organic sense of the individual and put it in the way of sending the nervous fluid in the direction which the propensity in activity needs to the muscles to be placed in action. "i have already said that the habit of exercising such an organ, or such a part of the body, to satisfy the needs which often spring up, should give to the subtile fluid which changes its place where is to be operated the power which causes action so great a facility in moving towards this organ, where it has been so often employed, that this habit should in a way become inherent in the nature of the individual, which is unable to change it. "moreover, the wants of animals possessing a nervous system being, in each case, dependent on the structure of these organisms, are: " . of obtaining any kind of food; " . of yielding to sexual fecundation which excites in them certain sensations; " . of avoiding pain; " . of seeking pleasure or happiness. "to satisfy these wants they contract different kinds of habits, which are transformed into so many propensities, which they can neither resist nor change. from this originate their habitual actions, and their special propensities to which we give the name of instinct.[ ] "this propensity of animals to preserve their habits and to renew the actions resulting from them being once acquired, is then propagated by means of reproduction or generation, which preserves the organization and the disposition of parts in the state thus attained, so that this same propensity already exists in the new individuals even before they have exercised it. "it is thus that the same habits and the same _instinct_ are perpetuated from generation to generation in the different species or races of animals, without offering any notable variation,[ ] so long as it does not suffer change in the circumstances essential to the mode of life." "_on the industry of certain animals._ "in those animals which have no brain that which we call _industry_ as applied to certain of their actions does not deserve such a name, for it is a mistake to attribute to them a faculty which they do not possess. "propensities transmitted and received by heredity (_génération_); habits of performing complicated actions, and which result from these acquired propensities; finally, different difficulties gradually and habitually overcome by as many emotions of the organic sense (_sentiment intérieur_), constitute the sum of actions which are always the same in the individuals of the same race, to which we inconsiderately give the name of _industry_. "the instinct of animals being formed by the habit of satisfying the four kinds of wants mentioned above, and resulting from the propensities acquired for a long time which urge them on in a way determined for each species, there comes to pass, in the case of some, only a complication in the actions which can satisfy these four kinds of wants, or certain of them, and, indeed, only the different difficulties necessary to be overcome have gradually compelled the animal to extend and make contrivances, and have led it, without choice or any intellectual act, but only by the emotions of the organic sense, to perform such and such acts. "hence the origin, in certain animals, of different complicated actions, which has been called _industry_, and which are so enthusiastically admired, because it has always been supposed, at least tacitly, that these actions were contrived and deliberately planned, which is plainly erroneous. they are evidently the fruit of a necessity which has expanded and directed the habits of the animals performing them, and which renders them such as we observe. "what i have just said is especially applicable to the invertebrate animals, in which there enters no act of intelligence. none of these can indeed freely vary its actions; none of them has the power of abandoning what we call its _industry_ to adopt any other kind. "there is, then, nothing wonderful in the supposed industry of the ant-lion (_myrmeleon formica-leo_), which, having thrown up a hillock of movable sand, waits until its booty is thrown down to the bottom of its funnel by the showers of sand to become its victim; also there is none in the manoeuvre of the oyster, which, to satisfy all its wants, does nothing but open and close its shell. so long as their organization is not changed they will always, both of them, do what we see them do, and they will do it neither voluntarily nor rationally. "this is not the case with the vertebrate animals, and it is among them, especially in the birds and mammals, that we observe in their actions traces of a true _industry_; because in difficult cases their intelligence, in spite of their propensity to habits, can aid them in varying their actions. these acts, however, are not common, and are only slightly manifested in certain races which have exercised them more, as we have had frequent occasion to remark." lamarck then (chapter vi.) examines into the nature of the _will_, which he says is really the principle underlying all the actions of animals. the will, he says, is one of the results of thought, the result of a reflux of a portion of the nervous fluid towards the parts which are to act. he compares the brain to a register on which are imprinted ideas of all kinds acquired by the individual, so that this individual provokes at will an effusion of the nervous fluid on this register, and directs it to any particular page. the remainder of the second volume (chapter vii.) is devoted to the understanding, its origin and that of ideas. the following additions relative to chapters vii. and viii. of the first part of this work are from vol. ii., pp.  - . in the last of june, , the menagerie of the museum of natural history having received a phoca (_phoca vitulina_), lamarck, as he says, had the opportunity of observing its movements and habits. after describing its habits in swimming and moving on land and observing its relation to the clawed mammals, he says his main object is to remark that the seals do not have the hind legs arranged in the same direction as the axis of their body, because these animals are constrained to habitually use them to form a caudal fin, closing and widening, by spreading their digits, the paddle (_palette_) which results from their union. "the morses, on the contrary, which are accustomed to feed on grass near the shore, never use their hind feet as a caudal fin; but their feet are united together with the tail, and cannot separate. thus in animals of similar origin we see a new proof of the effect of habits on the form and structure of organs." he then turns to the flying mammals, such as the flying squirrel (_sciurus volans_, _ærobates_, _petaurista_, _sagitta_, and _volucella_), and then explains the origin of their adaptation for flying leaps. "these animals, more modern than the seals, having the habit of extending their limbs while leaping to form a sort of _parachute_, can _only_ make a very prolonged leap when they glide down from a tree or spring only a short distance from one tree to another. now, by frequent repetitions of such leaps, in the individuals of these races the skin of their sides is expanded on each side into a loose membrane, which connects the hind and fore legs, and which, enclosing a volume of air, prevents their sudden falling. these animals are, moreover, without membranes between the fingers and toes. "the galeopithecus (_lemur volans_), undoubtedly a more ancient form but with the same habits as the flying squirrel (_pteromys geoff._), has the skin of the _flancs_ more ample, still more developed, connecting not only the hinder with the fore legs, but in addition the fingers and the tail with the hind feet. moreover, they leap much farther than the flying squirrels, and even make a sort of flight.[ ] "finally, the different bats are probably mammals still older than the galeopithecus, in the habit of extending their membrane and even their fingers to encompass a greater volume of air, so as to sustain their bodies when they fly out into the air. "by these habits, for so long a period contracted and preserved, the bats have obtained not only lateral membranes, but also an extraordinary elongation of the fingers of their fore feet (with the exception of the thumb), between which are these very ample membranes uniting them; so that these membranes of the hands become continuous with those of the flanks, and with those which connect the tail with the two hind feet, forming in these animals great membranous wings with which they fly perfectly, as everybody knows. "such is then the power of habits, which have a singular influence on the conformation of parts, and which give to the animals which have for a long time contracted certain of them, faculties not found in other animals. "as regards the amphibious animals of which i have often spoken, it gives me pleasure to communicate to my readers the following reflections which have arisen from an examination of all the objects which i have taken into consideration in my studies, and seen more and more to be confirmed. "i do not doubt but that the mammals have in reality originated from them, and that they are the veritable cradle (_berceau_) of the entire animal kingdom. "indeed, we see that the least perfect animals (and they are the most numerous) live only in the water; hence it is probable, as i have said (vol. ii., p.  ), that it is only in the water or in very humid places that nature causes and still forms, under favorable conditions, direct or spontaneous generations which have produced the simplest animalcules and those from which have successively been derived all the other animals. "we know that the infusoria, the polyps, and the radiata only live in the water; that the worms even only live some in the water and others in very damp places. "moreover, regarding the worms, which seem to form an initial branch of the animal scale, since it is evident that the infusoria form another branch, we may suppose that among those of them which are wholly aquatic--namely, which do not live in the bodies of other animals, such as the gordius and many others still unknown--there are doubtless a great many different aquatic forms; and that among these aquatic worms, those which afterwards habitually expose themselves to the air have probably produced amphibious insects, such as the mosquitoes, the ephemeras, etc., etc., which have successively given origin to all the insects which live solely in the air. but several races of these having changed their habits by the force of circumstances, and having formed habits of a life solitary, retired, or hidden, have given rise to the arachnides, almost all of which also live in the air. "finally, those of the arachnides which have frequented the water, which have consequently become progressively habituated to live in it, and which finally cease to expose themselves to the air--this indicates the relations which, connecting the scolopendræ to julus, this to the oniscus, and the last to asellus, shrimps, etc., have caused the existence of all the crustacea. "the other aquatic worms which are never exposed to the air, multiplying and diversifying their races with time, and gradually making progress in the complication of their structure, have caused the formation of the annelida, cirripedia, and molluscs, which together form an uninterrupted portion of the animal scale. "in spite of the considerable hiatus which we observe between the known molluscs and the fishes, the molluscs, whose origin i have just indicated, have, by the intermediation of those yet remaining unknown, given origin to the fishes, as it is evident that the latter have given rise to the reptiles. "in continuing to consult the probabilities on the origin of different animals, we cannot doubt but that the reptiles, by two distinct branches which circumstances have brought about, have given rise on one side to the formation of birds, and on the other to that of amphibious mammals, which have given in their turn origin to all the other mammals.[ ] "indeed, the fishes having caused the formation of batrachia, and these of the ophidian reptiles, both having only one auricle in the heart, nature has easily come to give a heart with a double auricle to other reptiles which constitute two special branches; finally, she has easily arrived at the end of forming, in the animals which had originated from each of these branches, a heart with two ventricles. "thus, among the reptiles whose heart has a double auricle, on the one side, the chelonians seem to have given origin to the birds; if, independently of several relations which we cannot disregard, i should place the head of a tortoise on the neck of certain birds, i should perceive almost no disparity in the general physiognomy of the factitious animal; and on the other side, the saurians, especially the 'planicaudes,' such as the crocodiles, seem to have given origin to the amphibious mammals. "if the branch of the chelonians has given rise to birds, we can yet presume that the palmipede aquatic birds, especially the _brevipennes_, such as the penguins and the _manchots_, have given origin to the monotremes. "finally, if the branch of saurians has given rise to the amphibious mammals, it will be most probable that this branch is the source whence all the mammals have taken their origin. "i therefore believe myself authorized to think that the terrestrial mammals originally descended from those aquatic mammals that we call amphibia. because the latter being divided into three branches by the diversity of the habits which, with the lapse of time, they have adopted, some have caused the formation of the cetacea, others that of the ungulated mammals, and still others that of the unguiculate mammals. "for example, those of the amphibia which have preserved the habit of frequenting the shores differ in the manner of taking their food. some among them accustoming themselves to browse on herbage, such as the morses and lamatines, gradually gave origin to the ungulate mammals, such as the pachyderms, ruminants, etc.; the others, such as the phocidæ, contracting the habit of feeding on fishes and marine animals, caused the existence of the unguiculate mammals, by means of races which, while becoming differentiated, became entirely terrestrial. "but those aquatic mammals which would form the habit of never leaving the water, and only rising to breathe at the surface, would probably give origin to the different known cetaceans. moreover, the ancient and complete habitation of the cetacea in the ocean has so modified their structure that it is now very difficult to recognize the source whence they have derived their origin. "indeed, since the enormous length of time during which these animals have lived in the depths of the sea, never using their hind feet in seizing objects, their disused feet have wholly disappeared, as also their skeleton, and even the pelvis serving as their attachment. "the alteration which the cetaceans have undergone in their limbs, owing to the influence of the medium in which they live and the habits which they have there contracted, manifests itself also in their fore limbs, which, entirely enveloped by the skin, no longer show externally the fingers in which they end; so that they only offer on each side a fin which contains concealed within it the skeleton of a hand. "assuredly, the cetaceans being mammals, it entered into the plan of their structure to have four limbs like the others, and consequently a pelvis to sustain their hind legs. but here, as elsewhere, that which is lacking in them is the result of atrophy brought about, at the end of a long time, by the want of use of the parts which were useless. "if we consider that in the phocæ, where the pelvis still exists, this pelvis is impoverished, narrowed, and with no projections on the hips, we see that the lessened (_médiocre_) use of the hind feet of these animals must be the cause, and that if this use should entirely cease, the hind limbs and even the pelvis would in the end disappear. "the considerations which i have just presented may doubtless appear as simple conjectures, because it is possible to establish them only on direct and positive proofs. but if we pay any attention to the observations which i have stated in this work, and if then we examine carefully the animals which i have mentioned, as also the result of their habits and their surroundings, we shall find that these conjectures will acquire, after this examination, an eminent probability. "the following _tableau_[ ] will facilitate the comprehension of what i have just stated. it will be seen that, in my opinion, the animal scale begins at least by two special branches, and that in the course of its extent some branchlets (_rameaux_) would seem to terminate in certain places. "this series of animals beginning with two branches where are situated the most imperfect, the first of these branches received their existence only by direct or spontaneous generation. "a strong reason prevents our knowing the changes successively brought about which have produced the condition in which we observe them; it is because we are never witnesses of these changes. thus we see the work when done, but never watching them during the process, we are naturally led to believe that things have always been as we see them, and not as they have progressively been brought about. "among the changes which nature everywhere incessantly produces in her _ensemble_, and her laws remain always the same, such of these changes as, to bring about, do not need much more time than the duration of human life, are easily understood by the man who observes them; but he cannot perceive those which are accomplished at the end of a considerable time. "if the duration of human life only extended to the length of a _second_, and if there existed one of our actual clocks mounted and in movement, each individual of our species who should look at the hour-hand of this clock would never see it change its place in the course of his life, although this hand would really not be stationary. the observations of thirty generations would never learn anything very evident as to the displacement of this hand, because its movement, only being that made during half a minute, would be too slight to make an impression; and if observations much more ancient should show that this same hand had really moved, those who should see the statement would not believe it, and would suppose there was some error, each one having always seen the hand on the same point of the dial-plate. "i leave to my readers all the applications to be made regarding this supposition. "_nature_, that immense totality of different beings and bodies, in every part of which exists an eternal circle of movements and changes regulated by law; totality alone unchangeable, so long as it pleases its sublime author to make it exist, should be regarded as a whole constituted by its parts, for a purpose which its author alone knows, and not exclusively for any one of them. "each part necessarily is obliged to change, and to cease to be one in order to constitute another, with interests opposed to those of all; and if it has the power of reasoning it finds this whole imperfect. in reality, however, this whole is perfect, and completely fulfils the end for which it was designed." the last work in which lamarck discussed the theory of descent was in his introduction to the _animaux sans vertèbres_. but here the only changes of importance are his four laws, which we translate, and a somewhat different phylogeny of the animal kingdom. the four laws differ from the two given in the _philosophie zoologique_ in his theory (the second law) accounting for the origin of a new organ, the result of a new need. "_first law_: life, by its proper forces, continually tends to increase the volume of every body which possesses it, and to increase the size of its parts, up to a limit which it brings about. "_second law_: the production of a new organ in an animal body results from the supervention of a new want (_besoin_) which continues to make itself felt, and of a new movement which this want gives rise to and maintains. "_third law_: the development of organs and their power of action are constantly in ratio to the employment of these organs. "_fourth law_: everything which has been acquired, impressed upon, or changed in the organization of individuals, during the course of their life is preserved by generation and transmitted to the new individuals which have descended from those which have undergone those changes." in explaining the second law he says: "the foundation of this law derives its proof from the third, in which the facts known allow of no doubt; for, if the forces of action of an organ, by their increase, further develop this organ--namely, increase its size and power, as is constantly proved by facts--we may be assured that the forces by which it acts, just originated by a new want felt, would necessarily give birth to the organ adapted to satisfy this new want, if this organ had not before existed. "in truth, in animals so low as not to be able to _feel_, it cannot be that we should attribute to a felt want the formation of a new organ, this formation being in such a case the product of a mechanical cause, as that of a new movement produced in a part of the fluids of the animal. "it is not the same in animals with a more complicated structure, and which are able to _feel_. they feel wants, and each want felt, exciting their inner feeling, forthwith sets the fluids in motion and forces them towards the point of the body where an action may satisfy the want experienced. now, if there exists at this point an organ suitable for this action, it is immediately cited to act; and if the organ does not exist, and only the felt want be for instance pressing and continuous, gradually the organ originates, and is developed on account of the continuity and energy of its employment. "if i had not been convinced: , that the thought alone of an action which strongly interests it suffices to arouse the _inner feeling_ of an individual; , that a felt want can itself arouse the feeling in question; , that every emotion of _inner feeling_, resulting from a want which is aroused, directs at the same instant a mass of nervous fluid to the points to be set in activity, that it also creates a flow thither of the fluids of the body, and especially nutrient ones; that, finally, it then places in activity the organs already existing, or makes efforts for the formation of those which would not have existed there, and which a continual want would therefore render necessary--i should have had doubts as to the reality of the law which i have just indicated. "but, although it may be very difficult to verify this law by observation, i have no doubt as to the grounds on which i base it, the necessity of its existence being involved in that of the third law, which is now well established. "i conceive, for example, that a _gasteropod mollusc_, which, as it crawls along, finds the need of feeling the bodies in front of it, makes efforts to touch those bodies with some of the foremost parts of its head, and sends to these every time supplies of nervous fluids, as well as other fluids--i conceive, i say, that it must result from this reiterated afflux towards the points in question that the nerves which abut at these points will, by slow degrees, be extended. now, as in the same circumstances other fluids of the animal flow also to the same places, and especially nourishing fluids, it must follow that two or more tentacles will appear and develop insensibly under those circumstances on the points referred to. "this is doubtless what has happened to all the races of _gasteropods_, whose wants have compelled them to adopt the habit of feeling bodies with some part of their head. "but if there occur, among the _gasteropods_, any races which, by the circumstances which concern their mode of existence or life, do not experience such wants, then their head remains without tentacles; it has even no projection, no traces of tentacles, and this is what has happened in the case of _bullæa_, _bulla_, and _chiton_." in the _supplément à la distribution générale des animaux_ (introduction, p.  ), concerning the real order of origin of the invertebrate classes, lamarck proposes a new genealogical tree. he states that the order of the animal series "is far from simple, that it is branching, and seems even to be composed of several distinct series;" though farther on (p.  ) he adds: "je regarde _l'ordre de la production_ des animaux comme formé de deux séries distinctes. "ainsi, je soumets à la méditation des zoologistes l'ordre présumé de la _formation_ des animaux, tel que l'exprime le tableau suivant:" in the matter of the origin of instinct, as in evolution in general, lamarck appears to have laid the foundation on which darwin's views, though he throws aside lamarck's factors, must rest. the "inherited habit" theory is thus stated by lamarck. instinct, he claims, is not common to all animals, since the lowest forms, like plants, are entirely passive under the influences of the surrounding medium; they have no wants, are automata. "but animals with a nervous system have _wants_, _i.e._, they feel hunger, sexual desires, they desire to avoid pain or to seek pleasure, etc. to satisfy these wants they contract habits, which are gradually transformed into so many propensities which they can neither resist nor change. hence arise habitual actions and special _propensities_, to which we give the name of _instinct_. "these propensities are inherited and become innate in the young, so that they act instinctively from the moment of birth. thus the same habits and instincts are perpetuated from one generation to another, with no _notable_ variations, so long as the species does not suffer change in the circumstances essential to its mode of life." the same views are repeated in the introduction to the _animaux sans vertèbres_ ( ), and again in , in his last work, and do not need to be translated, as they are repetitions of his previously published views in the _philosophie zoologique_. unfortunately, to illustrate his thoughts on instinct lamarck does not give us any examples, nor did he apparently observe to any great extent the habits of animals. in these days one cannot follow him in drawing a line--as regards the possession of instincts--between the lowest organisms, or protozoa, and the groups provided with a nervous system. _lamarck's meaning of the word "besoins," or wants or needs._--lamarck's use of the word wants or needs (_besoins_) has, we think, been greatly misunderstood and at times caricatured or pronounced as "absurd." the distinguished french naturalist, quatrefages, although he was not himself an evolutionist, has protested against the way lamarck's views have been caricatured. by nearly all authors he is represented as claiming that by simply "willing" or "desiring" the individual bird or other animal radically and with more or less rapidity changed its shape or that of some particular organ or part of the body. this is, as we have seen, by no means what he states. in no instance does he speak of an animal as simply "desiring" to modify an organ in any way. the doctrine of appetency attributed to lamarck is without foundation. in all the examples given he intimates that owing to changes in environment, leading to isolation in a new area separating a large number of individuals from their accustomed habitat, they are driven by necessity (_besoin_) or new needs to adopt a new or different mode of life--new habits. these efforts, whatever they may be--such as attempts to fly, swim, wade, climb, burrow, etc., continued for a long time "in all the individuals of its species," or the great number forced by competition to migrate and become segregated from the others of the original species--finally, owing to the changed surroundings, affect the mass of individuals thus isolated, and their organs thus exercised in a special direction undergo a slow modification. even so careful a writer as dr. alfred r. wallace does not quite fairly, or with exactness, state what lamarck says, when in his classical essay of he represents lamarck as stating that the giraffe acquired its long neck by _desiring_ to reach the foliage of the more lofty shrubs, and constantly stretching its neck for the purpose. on the contrary, he does not use the word "desiring" at all. what lamarck does say is that-- "the giraffe lives in dry, desert places, without herbage, so that it is obliged to browse on the leaves of trees, and is continually forced to reach up to them. it results from this habit, continued for a long time in all the individuals of its species, that its fore limbs have become so elongated that the giraffe, without raising itself erect on its hind legs, raises its head and reaches six meters high (almost twenty feet)."[ ] we submit that this mode of evolution of the giraffe is quite as reasonable as the very hypothetical one advanced by mr. wallace;[ ] _i.e._, that a variety occurred with a longer neck than usual, and these "at once secured a fresh range of pasture over the same ground as their shorter-necked companions, and on the first scarcity of food were thereby enabled to outlive them." mr. wallace's account also of lamarck's general theory appears to us to be one-sided, inadequate, and misleading. he states it thus: "the hypothesis of lamarck--that progressive changes in species have been produced by the attempts of animals to increase the development of their own organs, and thus modify their structure and habits." this is a caricature of what lamarck really taught. wants, needs (_besoins_), volitions, desires, are not mentioned by lamarck in his two fundamental laws (see p.  ), and when the word _besoins_ is introduced it refers as much to the physiological needs as to the emotions of the animal resulting from some new environment which forces it to adopt new habits such as means of locomotion or of acquiring food. it will be evident to one who has read the original or the foregoing translations of lamarck's writings that he does not refer so much to mental desires or volitions as to those physiological wants or needs thrust upon the animal by change of circumstances or by competition; and his _besoins_ may include lust, hunger, as well as the necessity of making muscular exertions such as walking, running, leaping, climbing, swimming, or flying. as we understand lamarck, when he speaks of the incipient giraffe or long-necked bird as making efforts to reach up or outwards, the efforts may have been as much physiological, reflex, or instinctive as mental. a recent writer, dr. r. t. jackson, curiously and yet naturally enough uses the same phraseology as lamarck when he says that the long siphon of the common clam (mya) "was brought about by the effort to reach the surface, induced by the habit of deep burial" in its hole.[ ] on the other hand, can we in the higher vertebrates entirely dissociate the emotional and mental activities from their physiological or instinctive acts? mr. darwin, in his _expressions of the emotions in man and animals_, discusses in an interesting and detailed way the effects of the feelings and passions on some of the higher animals. it is curious, also, that dr. erasmus darwin went at least as far as lamarck in claiming that the transformations of animals "are in part produced by their own exertions in consequence of their desires and aversions, of their pleasures and their pains, or of irritations or of associations." cope, in the final chapter of his _primary factors of organic evolution_, entitled "the functions of consciousness," goes to much farther extremes than the french philosopher has been accused of doing, and unhesitatingly attributes consciousness to all animals. "whatever be its nature," he says, "the preliminary to any animal movement which is not automatic is an effort." hence he regards effort as the immediate source of all movement, and considers that the control of muscular movements by consciousness is distinctly observable; in fact, he even goes to the length of affirming that reflex acts are the product of conscious acts, whereas it is plain enough that reflex acts are always the result of some stimulus. another case mentioned by lamarck in his _animaux sans vertèbres_, which has been pronounced as absurd and ridiculous, and has aided in throwing his whole theory into disfavor, is his way of accounting for the development of the tentacles of the snail, which is quoted on p.  . this account is a very probable and, in fact, the only rational explanation. the initial cause of such structures is the intermittent stimulus of occasional contact with surrounding objects, the irritation thus set up causing a flow of the blood to the exposed parts receiving the stimuli. the general cause is the same as that concerned in the production of horns and other hard defensive projections on the heads of various animals. in commenting on this case of the snail, professor cleland, in his just and discriminating article on lamarck, says: "however absurd this may seem, it must be admitted that, unlimited time having been once granted for organs to be developed in series of generations, the objections to their being formed in the way here imagined are only such as equally apply to the theory of their origin by natural selection.... in judging the reasonableness of the second law of lamarck [referring to new wants, see p.  ] as compared with more modern and now widely received theories, it must be observed that it is only an extension of his third law; and that third law is a fact. the strengthening of the blacksmith's arm by use is proverbially notorious. it is, therefore, only the sufficiency of the lamarckian hypothesis to explain the first commencement of new organs which is in question, if evolution by the mere operation of forces acting in the organic world be granted; and surely the darwinian theory is equally helpless to account for the beginning of a new organ, while it demands as imperatively that every stage in the assumed hereditary development of an organ must have been useful.... lamarck gave great importance to the influence of new wants acting indirectly by stimulating growth and use. darwin has given like importance to the effects of accidental variations acting indirectly by giving advantage in the struggle for existence. the speculative writings of darwin have, however, been interwoven with a vast number of beautiful experiments and observations bearing on his speculations, though by no means proving his theory of evolution; while the speculations of lamarck lie apart from his wonderful descriptive labors, unrelieved by intermixture with other matters capable of attracting the numerous class who, provided they have new facts set before them, are not careful to limit themselves to the conclusions strictly deducible therefrom. but those who read the _philosophie zoologique_ will find how many truths often supposed to be far more modern are stated with abundant clearness in its pages." (_encyc. brit._, art. "lamarck.") comparative summary of the views of the founders of the theory of evolution, with dates of publication. -------------+-------------+------------------------+------------+------------ |erasmus | |geoffroy st.|charles buffon |darwin |lamarck |hilaire |darwin ( - ). |( - ). |( - - ). |( - ).|( ). -------------+-------------+------------------------+------------+------------ | | | | all animals |all animals |all organisms arose from|unity of |universal possibly |derived from |germs. first germ |organization|tendency to derived from |a single |originated by |in animal |fortuitous a single |filament. |spontaneous generation. |kingdom. |variability type. | |development from the | |assumed. | |simple to the complex. |change of | time, its | |animal series not |"milieu | great length,| |continuous, but |ambiant," | stated. | |tree-like; graduated |direct. | | |from monad to man; | | immutability | |constructed the first | | of species | |phylogenetic tree. | | stated and | | |founded the |struggle then denied. |time, great |time, great length of, |doctrine of |for |length of, |definitely postulated; |homologies. |existence. nature |definitely |its duration practically| | advances by |demanded. |unlimited. | | gradations, | | | | passing from | |uniformitarianism of | | one species | |hutton and of lyell |founder of | to another by| |anticipated. |teratology. | imperceptible| | | | degrees. |effects of |effects of favorable |his embryo- | |change of |circumstances, such as |logical | changes in |climate, |changes of environment, |studies | distribution |direct |climate, soil, food, |influenced | of land and |(briefly |temperature; direct in |his | water as |stated). |case of plants and |philosophic | causing | |lowest animals, indirect|views. | variation. | |in case of the higher | | | |animals and man. | | effects of | | | | changes of | |conditions of existence | | climate, | |remaining constant, | | direct. | |species do not vary and | |competition | |vice-versa. | |strongly effects of | | | |advocated. changes of | |struggle for existence; | | food. | |stronger devour the | |natural |domesti- |weaker. competition | |selection. effects of |cation |stated in case of ai or |species are | domesti- |briefly |sloth. balance of |"different |sexual cation. |referred to. |nature. |modifi- |selection. | | |cations of | effects of |effects of |effects of use and |one and the |effects of use. (the |use: |disuse, discussed at |same type." |use and only examples|characters |length. | |disuse (in given are the|produced by | | |some callosities |their own |vestigial structures the| |cases). on legs of |exertions in |remains of organs | | camel, of |consequence |actively used by | | baboon, and |of their |ancestors of present | | the |desires, |forms. | | thickening by|aversions, | | | use of soles |lust, hunger,|new wants or necessities| | on man's |and security.|induced by changes of | | feet.) | |climate, habitat, etc., | | |sexual |result in production of | | |selection, |new propensities, new | | |law of |habits, and functions. | | |battle. | | | | |change of habits | | |protective |originate organs; change| | |mimicry. |of functions create new | | | |organs; formation of new| | |origin of |habits precede the | | |organs before|origin of new or | | |development |modification of organs | | |of their |already formed. | | |functions. | | | | |geographical isolation | |isolation |inheritance |suggested as a factor in| |"an |of acquired |case of man. | |important |characters | | |element." |(vaguely |swamping effects of | | |stated). |crossing. | | | | | | |instincts |lamarck's definition of | | |result of |species the most | | |imitation. |satisfactory yet stated.| | | | | | |opposed |inheritance of acquired | |inheritance |preformation |characters. | |of acquired |views of | | |characters. |haller and |instinct the result of | | |bonnet. |inherited habits. | | | | | | | |opposed preformation | | | |views; epigenesis | | | |definitely stated and | | | |adopted. | | | | | | -------------+-------------+------------------------+------------+------------ footnotes: [ ] [cabanis.] _rapp. du phys. et du moral de l'homme_, pp.  à , et . [ ] lamarck's idea of the animal series was that of a branched one, as shown by his genealogical tree on p.  , and he explains that the series begins at least by two special branches, these ending in branchlets. he thus breaks entirely away from the old idea of a continuous ascending series of his predecessors bonnet and others. professor r. hertwig therefore makes a decided mistake and does lamarck a great injustice in his "zoölogy," where he states: "lamarck, in agreement with the then prevailing conceptions, regarded the animal kingdom as a series grading from the lowest primitive animal up to man" (p.  ); and again, on the next page, he speaks of "the theory of geoffroy st.-hilaire and lamarck" as having in it "as a fundamental error the doctrine of the serial arrangement of the animal world" (english trans.). hertwig is in error, and could never have carefully read what lamarck did say, or have known that he was the first to throw aside the serial arrangement, and to sketch out a genealogical tree. [ ] the foregoing pages ( - ) are reprinted by the author from the _discours_ of . see pp.  - . [ ] perrier thus comments on this passage: "_ici nous sommes bien près, semble-t-il, non seulement de la lutte pour la vie telle one la concevra darwin, mais même de la sélection naturelle. malheureusement, au lieu de poursuivre l'idée, lamarck aussitôt s'engage dans une autre voie_," etc. (_la philosophie zoologique avant darwin_, p.  ). [ ] the expression "_sentiment intérieur_" may be nearly equivalent to the "organic sense" of modern psychologists, but more probably corresponds to our word consciousness. [ ] lamarck's division of _animaux sensibles_ comprises the insects, arachnids, crustacea, annelids, cirrhipedes, and molluscs. [ ] rather a strange view to take, as the brain of insects is now known to be nearly as complex as that of mammals. [ ] richerand, _physiologie_. vol ii. p.  . [ ] "as all animals do not have the power of performing voluntary acts, so in like manner _instinct_ is not common to all animals: for those lacking the nervous system also want the organic sense, and can perform no instinctive acts. "these imperfect animals are entirely passive, they do nothing of themselves, they have no wants, and nature as regards them treats them as she does plants. but as they are irritable in their parts, the means which nature employs to maintain their existence enables them to execute movements which we call actions." it thus appears that lamarck practically regards the lowest animals as automata, but we must remember that the line he draws between animals with and without a nervous system is an artificial one, as some of the forms which he supposed to be destitute of a nervous system are now known to possess one. [ ] it should be noticed that lamarck does not absolutely state that there are no variations whatever in instinct. his words are much less positive: "_sans offrer de variation notable._" this dues not exclude the fact, discovered since his time, that instincts are more or less variable, thus affording grounds for darwin's theory of the origin of new kinds of instincts from the "accidental variation of instincts." professor james' otherwise excellent version of lamarck's view is inexact and misleading when he makes lamarck say that instincts are "perpetuated _without variation_ from one generation to another, so long as the outward conditions of existence remain the same" (_the principles of psychology_, vol. ii., p.  , ). he leaves out the word notable. the italics are ours. farther on (p.  ), it will be seen that lamarck acknowledges that in birds and mammals instinct is variable. [ ] it is interesting to compare with this darwin's theory of the origin of the same animals, the flying squirrels and galeopithecus (_origin of species_, th edition, new york, pp.  - ), and see how he invokes the lamarckian factors of change of "climate and vegetation" and "changing conditions of life," to originate the variations before natural selection can act. his account is a mixture of lamarckism with the added darwinian factors of competition and natural selection. we agree with this view, that the change in environment and competition sets the ball in motion, the work being finished by the selective process. the act of springing and the first attempts at flying also involve strong emotions and mental efforts, and it can hardly be denied that these lamarckian factors came into continual play during the process of evolution of these flying creatures. [ ] this sagacious, though crude suggestion of the origin of birds and mammals from the reptiles is now, after the lapse of nearly a century, being confirmed by modern morphologists and palæontologists. [ ] reproduced on page  . [ ] this is taken from my article, "lamarck and neo-lamarckianism," in the _open court_, chicago, february, . compare also "darwin wrong," etc., by r. f. licorish, m.d., barbadoes, , reprinted in _natural science_, april, . [ ] _natural selection_, pp.  - . [ ] _american naturalist_, , p.  . chapter xviii lamarck's theory as to the evolution of man lamarck's views on the origin of man are contained in his _recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivans_ ( ) and his _philosophie zoologique_, published in . we give the following literal translation in full of the views he presented in , and which were probably first advanced in lectures to his classes. "as to man, his origin, his peculiar nature, i have already stated in this book that i have not kept these subjects in view in making these observations. his extreme superiority over the other living creatures indicates that he is a privileged being who has in common with the animals only that which concerns animal life. "in truth, we observe a sort of gradation in the intelligence of animals, like what exists in the gradual improvement of their organization, and we remark that they have ideas, memory; that they think, choose, love, hate, that they are susceptible of jealousy, and that by different inflexions of their voice and by signs they communicate with and understand each other. it is not less evident that man alone is endowed with reason, and that on this account he is clearly distinguished from all the other productions of nature. "however, were it not for the picture that so many celebrated men have drawn of the weakness and lack of human reason; were it not that, independently of all the freaks into which the passions of man almost constantly allure him, the _ignorance_ which makes him the opinionated slave of custom and the continual dupe of those who wish to deceive him; were it not that his reason has led him into the most revolting errors, since we actually see him so debase himself as to worship animals, even the meanest, of addressing to them his prayers, and of imploring their aid; were it not, i say, for these considerations, should we feel authorized to raise any doubts as to the excellence of this special light which is the attribute of man? "an observation which has for a long time struck me is that, having remarked that the habitual use and exercise of an organ proportionally develops its size and functions, as the lack of employment weakens in the same proportion its power, and even more or less completely atrophies it, i am apprised that of all the organs of man's body which is the most strongly submitted to this influence, that is to say, in which the effects of exercise and of habitual use are the most considerable, is it not the organ of thought--in a word, is it not the brain of man? "compare the extraordinary difference existing in the degree of intelligence of a man who rarely exercises his powers of thought, who has always been accustomed to see but a small number of things, only those related to his ordinary wants and to his limited desires; who at no time thinks about these same objects, because he is obliged to occupy himself incessantly with providing for these same wants; finally, who has few ideas, because his attention, continually fixed on the same things, makes him notice nothing, that he makes no comparisons, that he is in the very heart of nature without knowing it, that he looks upon it almost in the same way as do the beasts, and that all that surrounds him is nothing to him: compare, i say, the intelligence of this individual with that of the man who, prepared at the outset by education, has contracted the useful practice of exercising the organ of his thought in devoting himself to the study of the principal branches of knowledge; who observes and compares everything he sees and which affects him; who forgets himself in examining everything he can see, who insensibly accustoms himself to judge of everything for himself, instead of giving a blind assent to the authority of others; finally, who, stimulated by reverses and especially by injustice, quietly rises by reflection to the causes which have produced all that we observe both in nature and in human society; then you will appreciate how enormous is the difference between the intelligence of the two men in question. "if newton, bacon, montesquieu, voltaire, and so many other men have done honor to the human species by the extent of their intelligence and their genius, how nearly does the mass of brutish, ignorant men approach the animal, becoming a prey to the most absurd prejudices and constantly enslaved by their habits, this mass forming the majority of all nations? "search deeply the facts in the comparison i have just made, you will see how in one part the organ which serves for acts of thought is perfected and acquires greater size and power, owing to sustained and varied exercise, especially if this exercise offers no more interruptions than are necessary to prevent the exhaustion of its powers; and, on the other hand, you will perceive how the circumstances which prevent an individual from exercising this organ, or from exercising it habitually only while considering a small number of objects which are always of the same nature, impede the development of his intellectual faculties. "after what i have just stated as to the results in man of a slight exercise of the organ by which he thinks, we shall no longer be astonished to see that in the nations which have come to be the most distinguished, because there is among them a small number of men who have been able, by observation and reflection, to create or advance the higher sciences, the multitude in these same nations have not been for all that exempted from the most absurd errors, and have not the less always been the dupe of impostors and victims of their prejudices. "such is, in fact, the fatality attached to the destiny of man that, with the exception of a small number of individuals who live under favorable though special circumstances, the multitude, forced to continually busy itself with providing for its needs, remains permanently deprived of the knowledge which it should acquire; in general, exercises to a very slight extent the organ of its intelligence; preserves and propagates a multitude of prejudices which enslave it, and cannot be as happy as those who, guiding it, are themselves guided by reason and justice. "as to the animals, besides the fact that they in descending order have the brain less developed, they are otherwise proportionally more limited in the means of exercising and of varying their intellectual processes. they each exercise them only on a single or on some special points, on which they become more or less expert according to their species. and while their degree of organization remains the same and the nature of their needs (_besoins_) does not vary, they can never extend the scope of their intelligence, nor apply it to other objects than to those which are related to their ordinary needs. "some among them, whose structure is a little more perfect than in others, have also greater means of varying and extending their intellectual faculties; but it is always within limits circumscribed by their necessities and habits. "the power of habit which is found to be still so great in man, especially in one who has but slightly exercised the organ of his thought, is among animals almost insurmountable while their physical state remains the same. nothing compels them to vary their powers, because they suffice for their wants and these require no change. hence it is constantly the same objects which exercise their degree of intelligence, and it results that these actions are always the same in each species. "the sole acts of variation, _i.e._, the only acts which rise above the limits of habits, and which we see performed in animals whose organization allows them to, are _acts of imitation_. i only speak of actions which they perform voluntarily or freely (_actions qu'ils font de leur plein gré_). "birds, very limited in this respect in the powers which their structure furnishes, can only perform acts of imitation with their vocal organ; this organ, by their habitual efforts to render the sounds, and to vary them, becomes in them very perfect. thus we know that several birds (the parrot, starling, raven, jay, magpie, canary bird, etc.) imitate the sounds they hear. "the monkeys, which are, next to man, the animals by their structure having the best means to this end, are most excellent imitators, and there is no limit to the things they can mimic. "in man, infants which are still of the age when simple ideas are formed on various subjects, and who think but little, forming no complex ideas, are also very good imitators of everything which they see or hear. "but if each order of things in animals is dependent on the state of organization occurring in each of them, which is not doubted, there is no occasion for thinking that in these same animals the order which is superior to all the others in organization is proportionally so also in extent of means, invariability of actions, and consequently in intellectual powers. "for example, in the mammals which are the most highly organized, the _quadrumana_, which form a part of them, have, besides the advantages over other mammals, a conformation in several of their organs which considerably increases their powers, which allows of a great variability in their actions, and which extends and even makes predominant their intelligence, enabling them to deal with a greater variety of objects with which to exercise their brain. it will doubtless be said: but although man may be a true mammal in his general structure, and although among the mammals the _quadrumana_ are most nearly allied to him, this will not be denied, not only that man is strongly distinguished from the _quadrumana_ by a great superiority of intelligence, but he is also very considerably so in several structural features which characterize him. "first, the occipital foramen being situated entirely at the base of the cranium of man and not carried up behind, as in the other vertebrates, causes his head to be posed at the extremity of the vertebral column as on a pivot, not bowed down forward, his face not looking towards the ground. this position of the head of man, who can easily turn it to different sides, enables him to see better a larger number of objects at one time, than the much inclined position of the head of other mammals allows them to see. "secondly, the remarkable mobility of the fingers of the hand of man, which he employs either all together or several together, or each separately, according to his pleasure, and besides, the sense of touch highly developed at the extremity of these same fingers, enables him to judge the nature of the bodies which surround him, to recognize them, to make use of them--means which no other animals possess to such a degree. "thirdly, by the state of his organization man is able to hold himself up and walk erect. he has, for this attitude which is natural to him, large muscles at the lower extremities which are adapted to this end, and it would thus be as difficult to walk habitually on his four extremities as it would be for the other mammals, and even for the _quadrumana_, to walk so habitually erect on the soles of their feet. "moreover, man is not truly quadrumanous; for he has not, like the monkeys, an almost equal facility in using the fingers of his feet, and of seizing objects with them. in the feet of man the thumbs are not in opposition to the other fingers to use in grasping, as in monkeys, etc. "i appreciate all these reasons, and i see that man, although near the _quadrumana_, is so distinct that he alone represents a separate order, belonging to a single genus and species, offering, however, many different varieties. this order may be, if it is desired, that of the _bimana_. "however, if we consider that all the characteristics which have been cited are only differences in degree of structure, may we not suppose that this special condition of organization of man _has been gradually acquired at the close of a long period of time, with the aid of circumstances which have proved favorable?_[ ] what a subject for reflection for those who have the courage to enter into it! "if the _quadrumana_ have not the occipital opening situated directly at the base of the cranium as in man, it is assuredly much less raised posteriorly than in the dog, cat, and all the other mammals. thus they all may quite often stand erect, although this attitude for them is very irksome. "i have not observed the situation of the occipital opening of the jacko or orang-outang (_simia satyrus_ l.); but as i know that this animal almost habitually walks erect, though it has no strength in its legs, i suppose that the occipital foramen is not situated so far from the base of the skull as in the other _quadrumana_. "the head of the negro, less flattened in front than that of the european man, necessarily has the occipital foramen central. "the more should the jacko contract the habit of walking about, the less mobility would he have in his toes, so that the thumbs of the feet, which are already much shorter than the other digits, would gradually cease to be placed in opposition to the other toes, and to be useful in grasping. the muscles of its lower extremities would acquire proportionally greater thickness and strength. then the increased or more frequent exercise of the fingers of its hands would develop nervous masses at their extremities, thus rendering the sense of touch more delicate. this is what our train of reasoning indicates from the consideration of a multitude of facts and observations which support it."[ ] the subject is closed by a quotation from grandpré on the habits of the chimpanzee. it is not of sufficient importance to be here reproduced. seven years after the publication of these views, lamarck again returns to the subject in his _philosophie zoologique_, which we translate. "_some observations relative to man_. "if man were distinguished from the animals by his structure alone, it would be easy to show that the structural characters which place him, with his varieties, in a family by himself, are all the product of former changes in his actions, and in the habits which he has adopted and which have become special to the individuals of his species. "indeed, if any race whatever of _quadrumana_, especially the most perfect, should lose, by the necessity of circumstances or from any other cause, the habit of climbing trees, and of seizing the branches with the feet, as with the hands, to cling to them; and if the individuals of this race, during a series of generations, should be obliged to use their feet only in walking, and should cease to use their hands as feet, there is no doubt, from the observations made in the preceding chapter, that these _quadrumana_ would be finally transformed into _bimana_, and that the thumbs of their feet would cease to be shorter than the fingers, their feet only being of use for walking. "moreover, if the individuals of which i speak were impelled by the necessity of rising up and of looking far and wide, of endeavoring to stand erect, and of adopting this habit constantly from generation to generation, there is no doubt that their feet would gradually and imperceptibly assume a conformation adapted for an erect posture, that their legs would develop calves, and that these creatures would not afterwards walk as they do now, painfully on both hands and feet. "also, if these same individuals should cease using their jaws for biting in self-defence, tearing or seizing, or using them like nippers in cutting leaves for food, and should they only be used in chewing food, there is no doubt that their facial angle would become higher, that their muzzle would become shorter and shorter, and that in the end this being entirely effaced, their incisor teeth would become vertical. "now supposing that a race of _quadrumana_, as for example the most perfect, had acquired, by habits constant in every individual, the structure i have just described, and the power of standing erect and of walking upright, and that as the result of this it had come to dominate the other races of animals, we should then conceive: " . that this race farther advanced in its faculties, having arrived at the stage when it lords it over the others, will be spread over the surface of the globe in every suitable place; " . that it will hunt the other higher races of animals and will struggle with them for preëminence (_lui disputer les biens de la terre_) and that it will force them to take refuge in regions which it does not occupy; " . that being injured by the great multiplication of closely allied races, and having banished them into forests or other desert places, it will arrest the progress of improvement in their faculties, while its own self, the ruler of the region over which it spreads, will increase in population without hindrance on the part of others, and, living in numerous tribes, will in succession create new needs which should stimulate industry and gradually render still more perfect its means and powers; " . that, finally, this preëminent race having acquired an absolute supremacy over all the others, there arose between it and the highest animals a difference and indeed a considerable interval. "thus the most perfect race of _quadrumana_ will have been enabled to become dominant, to change its habits as the result of the absolute dominion which it will have assumed over the others, and with its new needs, by progressively acquiring modifications in its structure and its new and numerous powers, to keep within due limits the most highly developed of the other races in the state to which they had advanced, and to create between it and these last very remarkable distinctions. "the angola orang (_simia troglodytes_ lin.) is the highest animal; it is much more perfect than the orang of the indies (_simia satyrus_ lin.), which is called the orang-outang, and, nevertheless, as regards their structure they are both very inferior to man in bodily faculties and intelligence. these animals often stand erect; but this attitude is not habitual, their organization not having been sufficiently modified, so that standing still (_station_) is painful for them. "it is known, from the accounts of travellers, especially in regard to the orang of the indies, that when immediate danger obliges it to fly, it immediately falls on all fours. this betrays, they tell us, the true origin of this animal, since it is obliged to abandon the alien unaccustomed partially erect attitude which is thrust upon it. "without doubt this attitude is foreign to it, since in its change of locality it makes less use of it, which shows that its organization is less adapted to it; but though it has become easier for man to stand up straight, is the erect posture wholly natural to him? "although man, who, by his habits, maintained in the individuals of his species during a great series of generations, can stand erect only while changing from one place to another, this attitude is not less in his case a condition of fatigue, during which he is able to maintain himself in an upright position only during a limited time and with the aid of the contraction of several of his muscles. "if the vertebral column of the human body should form the axis of this body, and sustain the head in equilibrium, as also the other parts, the man standing would be in a state of rest. but who does not know that this is not so; that the head is not articulated at its centre of gravity; that the chest and stomach, as also the viscera which these cavities contain, weigh heavily almost entirely on the anterior part of the vertebral column; that the latter rests on an oblique base, etc.? also, as m. richerand observes, there is needed in standing a force active and watching without ceasing to prevent the body from falling over, the weight and disposition of parts tending to make the body fall forward. "after having developed the considerations regarding the standing posture of man, the same savant then expresses himself: 'the relative weight of the head, of the thoracic and abdominal viscera, tends therefore to throw it in front of the line, according to which all the parts of the body bear down on the ground sustaining it; a line which should be exactly perpendicular to this ground in order that the standing position may be perfect. the following fact supports this assertion: i have observed that infants with a large head, the stomach protruding and the viscera loaded with fat, accustom themselves with difficulty to stand up straight, and it is not until the end of their second year that they dare to surrender themselves to their proper forces; they stand subject to frequent falls and have a natural tendency to revert to the quadrupedal state.' (_physiologie_, vol. ii., p.  .) "this disposition of the parts which cause the erect position of man, being a state of activity, and consequently fatiguing, instead of being a state of rest, would then betray in him an origin analogous to that of the mammals, if his organization alone should be taken into consideration. "now in order to follow, in all its particulars, the hypothesis presented in the beginning of these observations, it is fitting to add the following considerations: "the individuals of the dominant race previously mentioned, having taken possession of all the inhabitable places which were suitable for them, and having to a very considerable extent multiplied their necessities in proportion as the societies which they formed became more numerous, were able equally to increase their ideas, and consequently to feel the need of communicating them to their fellows. we conceive that there would arise the necessity of increasing and of varying in the same proportion the _signs_ adopted for the communication of these ideas. it is then evident that the members of this race would have to make continual efforts, and to employ every possible means in these efforts, to create, multiply, and render sufficiently varied the _signs_ which their ideas and their numerous wants would render necessary. "it is not so with any other animals; because, although the most perfect among them, such as the _quadrumana_, live mostly in troops, since the eminent supremacy of the race mentioned they have remained stationary as regards the improvement of their faculties, having been driven out from everywhere and banished to wild, desert, usually restricted regions, whither, miserable and restless, they are incessantly constrained to fly and hide themselves. in this situation these animals no longer contract new needs, they acquire no new ideas; they have but a small number of them, and it is always the same ones which occupy their attention, and among these ideas there are very few which they have need of communicating to the other individuals of their species. there are, then, only very few different _signs_ which they employ among their fellows, so that some movements of the body or of certain of its parts, certain hisses and cries raised by the simple inflexions of the voice, suffice them. "on the contrary, the individuals of the dominant race already mentioned, having had need of multiplying the _signs_ for the rapid communication of their ideas, now become more and more numerous, and, no longer contented either with pantomimic signs or possible inflexions of their voice to represent this multitude of signs now become necessary, would succeed by different efforts in forming _articulated sounds_: at first they would use only a small number, conjointly with the inflexions of their voice; as the result they would multiply, vary, and perfect them, according to their increasing necessities, and according as they would be more accustomed to produce them. indeed, the habitual exercise of their throat, their tongue, and their lips to make articulate sounds, will have eminently developed in them this faculty. "hence for this particular race the origin of the wonderful power of _speech_; and as the distance between the regions where the individuals composing it would be spread would favor the corruption of the signs fitted to express each idea, from this arose the origin of languages, which must be everywhere diversified. "then in this respect necessities alone would have accomplished everything; they would give origin to efforts; and the organs fitted for the articulation of sounds would be developed by their habitual use. "such would be the reflections which might be made if man, considered here as the preëminent race in question, were distinguished from the animals only by his physical characters, and if his origin were not different from theirs." this is certainly, for the time it was written, an original, comprehensive, and bold attempt at explaining in a tentative way, or at least suggesting, the probable origin of man from some arboreal creature allied to the apes. it is as regards the actual evolutional steps supposed to have been taken by the simian ancestors of man, a more detailed and comprehensive hypothesis than that offered by darwin in his _descent of man_,[ ] which lamarck has anticipated. darwin does not refer to this theory of lamarck, and seems to have entirely overlooked it, as have others since his time. the theory of the change from an arboreal life and climbing posture to an erect one, and the transformation of the hinder pair of hands into the feet of the erect human animal, remind us of the very probable hypothesis of mr. herbert spencer, as to the modification of the quadrumanous posterior pair of hands to form the plantigrade feet of man. footnotes: [ ] author's italics. [ ] "how much this unclean beast resembles man!"--_ennius_. "indeed, besides other resemblances the monkey has mammæ, a clitoris, nymphs, uterus, uvula, eye-lobes, nails, as in the human species; it also lacks a suspensory ligament of the neck. is it not astonishing that man, endowed with wisdom, differs so little from such a disgusting animal!"--_linnæus_. [ ] vol. i., chapter iv., pp.  - ; ii., p.  . chapter xix lamarck's thoughts on morals, and on the relation between science and religion one who has read the writings of the great french naturalist, who may be regarded as the founder of evolution, will readily realize that lamarck's mind was essentially philosophic, comprehensive, and synthetic. he looked upon every problem in a large way. his breadth of view, his moral and intellectual strength, his equably developed nature, generous in its sympathies and aspiring in its tendencies, naturally led him to take a conservative position as to the relations between science and religion. he should, as may be inferred from his frequent references to the author of nature, be regarded as a deist. when a very young man, he was for a time a friend of the erratic and gifted rousseau, and was afterwards not unknown to condorcet, the secretary of the french academy of sciences, so liberal in his views and so bitter an enemy of the church; and though constantly in contact with the radical views and burning questions of that day, lamarck throughout his life preserved his philosophic calm, and maintained his lofty tone and firm temper. we find no trace in his writings of sentiments other than the most elevated and inspiring, and we know that in character he was pure and sweet, self-sacrificing, self-denying, and free from self-assertion. the quotations from his _philosophie zoologique_, published in , given below, will show what were the results of his meditations on the relations between science and religion. had his way of looking at this subject prevailed, how much misunderstanding and ill-feeling between theologians and savants would have been avoided! had his spirit and breadth of view animated both parties, there would not have been the constant and needless opposition on the part of the church to the grand results of scientific discovery and philosophy, or too hasty dogmatism and scepticism on the part of some scientists. in lamarck, at the opening of the past century, we behold the spectacle of a man devoting over fifty years of his life to scientific research in biology, and insisting on the doctrine of spontaneous generation; of the immense length of geological time, so opposed to the views held by the church; the evolution of plants and animals from a single germ, and even the origin of man from the apes, yet as earnestly claiming that nature has its author who in the beginning established the order of things, giving the initial impulse to the laws of the universe. as duval says, after quoting the passage given below: "deux faits son à noter dans ce passage: d'une part, les termes dignes et conciliants dans lesquels lamarck établit la part de la science et de la religion; cela vaut, mieux, même en tenant compte des différences d'epoques, que les abjurations de buffon."[ ] the passage quoted by m. duval is the following one: "surely nothing exists except by the will of the sublime author of all things. but can we not assign him laws in the execution of his will, and determine the method which he has followed in this respect? has not his infinite power enabled him to create an order of things which has successively given existence to all that we see, as well as to that which exists and that of which we have no knowledge? as regards the decrees of this infinite wisdom, i have confined myself to the limits of a simple observer of nature."[ ] in other places we find the following expressions: "there is then, for the animals as for the plants, an order which belongs to nature, and which results, as also the objects which this order makes exist, from the power which it has received from the supreme author of all things. she is herself only the general and unchangeable order that this sublime author has created throughout, and only the totality of the general and special laws to which this order is subject. by these means, whose use it continues without change, it has given and will perpetually give existence to its productions; it varies and renews them unceasingly, and thus everywhere preserves the whole order which is the result of it."[ ] ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "to regard nature as eternal, and consequently as having existed from all time, is to me an abstract idea, baseless, limitless, improbable, and not satisfactory to my reason. being unable to know anything positive in this respect, and having no means of reasoning on this subject, i much prefer to think that _all nature_ is only a result: hence, i suppose, and i am glad to admit it, a first cause, in a word, a supreme power which has given existence to nature, and which has made it in all respects what it is."[ ] ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "nature, that immense totality of different beings and bodies, in every part of which exists an eternal circle of movements and changes regulated by law; totality alone unchangeable, so long as it pleases its sublime author to cause its existence, should be regarded as a whole constituted by its parts, for a purpose which its author alone knows, and not exclusively for any one of them. "each part is necessarily obliged to change, and to cease to be one in order to constitute another, with interests opposed to those of all; and if it has the power of reasoning it finds this whole imperfect. in reality, however, this whole is perfect and completely fulfils the end for which it was designed."[ ] lamarck's work on general philosophy[ ] was written near the end of his life, in . he begins his "discours préliminaire" by referring to the sudden loss of his eyesight, his work on the invertebrate animals being thereby interrupted. the book was, he says, "rapidly" dictated to his daughter, and the ease with which he dictated was due, he says, to his long-continued habit of meditating on the facts he had observed. in the "principes primordiaux" he considers man as the only being who has the power of observing nature, and the only one who has perceived the necessity of recognizing a superior and only cause, creator of the order of the wonders of the world of life. by this he is led to raise his thoughts to the _supreme author_ of all that exists. "in the creation of his works, and especially those we can observe, this omnipotent being has undoubtedly been the ruling power in pursuing the method which has pleased him, namely, his will has been: "either to create instantaneously and separately every particular living being observed by us, to personally care for and watch over them in all their changes, their movements, or their actions, to unremittingly care for each one separately, and by the exercise of his supreme will to regulate all their life; "or to reduce his creations to a small number, and among these, to institute an order of things general and continuous, pervaded by ceaseless activity (_mouvement_), especially subject to laws by means of which all the organisms of whatever nature, all the changes they undergo, all the peculiarities they present, and all the phenomena that many of them exhibit, may be produced. "in regard to these two modes of execution, if observation taught us nothing we could not form any opinion which would be well grounded. but it is not so; we distinctly see that there exists an order of things truly created (_véritablement créé_), as unchangeable as its author allows, acting on matter alone, and which possesses the power of producing all visible beings, of executing all the changes, all the modifications, even the extinctions, so also the renewals or recreations that we observe among them. it is to this order of things that we have given the name of _nature_. the supreme author of all that exists is, then, the immediate creator of matter as also of nature, but he is only indirectly the creator of what nature can produce. "the end that god has proposed to himself in creating matter, which forms the basis of all bodies, and nature, which divides (_divise_) this matter, forms the bodies, makes them vary, modifies them, changes them, and renews them in different ways, can be easily known to us; for the supreme being cannot meet with any obstacle to his will in the execution of his works; the general results of these works are necessarily the object he had in view. thus this end could be no other than the existence of nature, of which matter alone forms the sphere, and should not be that causing the creation of any special being. "do we find in the two objects created, _i.e._, _matter_ and _nature_, the source of the good and evil which have almost always been thought to exist in the events of this world? to this question i shall answer that good and evil are only relative to particular objects, that they never affect by their temporary existence the general result expected (_prévu_), and that for the end which the creator designed, there is in reality neither good nor evil, because everything in nature perfectly fulfils its object. "has god limited his creations to the existence of only matter and nature? this question is vain, and should remain without an answer on our part; because, being reduced to knowing anything only through observation, and to bodies alone, also to what concerns them, these being for us the only observable objects, it would be rash to speak affirmatively or negatively on this subject. "what is a spiritual being? it is what, with the aid of the imagination, one would naturally suppose (_l'on vaudra supposer_). indeed, it is only by means of opposing that which is material that we can form the idea of spirit; but as this hypothetical being is not in the category of objects which it is possible for us to observe, we do not know how to take cognizance of it. the idea that we have of it is absolutely without base. "we only know physical objects and only objects relative to these beings (_êtres_): such is the condition of our nature. if our thoughts, our reasonings, our principles have been considered as metaphysical objects, these objects, then, are not beings (_êtres_). they are only relations or consequences of relations (_rapports_), or only results of observed laws. "we know that relations are distinguished as general and special. among these last are regarded those of nature, form, dimension, solidity, size, quantity, resemblance, and difference; and if we add to these objects the being observed and the consideration of known laws, as also that of conventional objects, we shall have all the materials on which our thoughts are based. "thus being able to observe only the phenomena of nature, as well as the laws which regulate these phenomena, also the products of these last, in a word, only bodies (_corps_) and what concerns them, all that which immediately proceeds from supreme power is incomprehensible to us, as it itself [_i.e._, supreme power] is to our minds. to create, or to make anything out of nothing, this is an idea we cannot conceive of, for the reason that in all that we can know, we do not find any model which represents it. god alone, then, can create, while nature can only produce. we must suppose that, in his creations, the divinity is not restricted to the use of any time, while, on the other hand, nature can effect nothing without the aid of long periods of time." without translating more of this remarkable book, which is very rare, much less known than the _philosophie zoologique_, the spirit of the remainder may be imagined from the foregoing extracts. the author refers to the numerous evils resulting from ignorance, false knowledge, lack of judgment, abuse of power, demonstrating the necessity of our confining ourselves within the circle of the objects presented by nature, and never to go beyond them if we do not wish to fall into error, because the profound study of nature and of the organization of man alone, and the exact observation of facts alone, will reveal to us "the truths most important for us to know," in order to avoid the vexations, the perfidies, the injustices, and the oppressions of all sorts, and "incalculable disorders" which arise in the social body. in this way only shall we discover and acquire the means of obtaining the enjoyment of the advantages which we have a right to expect from our state of civilization. the author endeavors to state what science can and should render to society. he dwells on the sources from which man has drawn the knowledge which he possesses, and from which he can obtain many others--sources the totality of which constitutes for him the field of realities. lamarck also in this work has built up a system for moral philosophy. self-love, he says, perfectly regulated, gives rise: . to moral force which characterizes the laborious man, so that the length and difficulties of a useful work do not repel him. . to the courage of him who, knowing the danger, exposes himself when he sees that this would be useful. . to love of wisdom. wisdom, according to lamarck, consists in the observance of a certain number of rules or virtues. these we cite in a slightly abridged form. love of truth in all things; the need of improving one's mind; moderation in desires; decorum in all actions; a wise reserve in unessential wants; indulgence, toleration, humanity, good will towards all men; love of the public good and of all that is necessary to our fellows; contempt for weakness; a kind of severity towards one's self which preserves us from that multitude of artificial wants enslaving those who give up to them; resignation and, if possible, moral impassibility in suffering reverses, injustices, oppression, and losses; respect for order, for public institutions, civil authorities, laws, morality, and religion. the practice of these maxims and virtues, says lamarck, characterizes true philosophy. and it may be added that no one practised these virtues more than lamarck. like cuvier's, his life was blameless, and though he lived a most retired life, and was not called upon to fill any public station other than his chair of zoölogy at the jardin des plantes, we may feel sure that he had the qualities of courage, independence, and patriotism which would have rendered such a career most useful to his country. as bourguin eloquently asserts: "lamarck was the brave man who never deserted a dangerous post, the laborious man who never hesitated to meet any difficulty, the investigating spirit, firm in his convictions, tolerant of the opinions of others, the simple man, moderate in all things, the enemy of weakness, devoted to the public good, imperturbable under the attaints of fortune, of suffering, and of unjust and passionate attacks." footnotes: [ ] mathias duval: "le transformiste français lamarck," _bulletin de la société d'anthropologie de paris_, xii., , p.  . [ ] _philosophie zoologique_, p.  . [ ] _loc. cit._, i., p.  . [ ] _loc. cit._, i., p.  . [ ] _loc. cit._, ii., p.  . [ ] _système analytique des connaissances de l'homme_, etc. chapter xx the relations between lamarckism and darwinism; neolamarckism since the appearance of darwin's _origin of species_, and after the great naturalist had converted the world to a belief in the general doctrine of evolution, there has arisen in the minds of many working naturalists a conviction that natural selection, or darwinism as such, is only one of other evolutionary factors; while there are some who entirely reject the selective principle. darwin, moreover, assumed a tendency to fortuitous variation, and did not attempt to explain its cause. fully persuaded that he had discovered the most efficient and practically sole cause of the origin of species, he carried the doctrine to its extreme limits, and after over twenty years of observation and experiment along this single line, pushing entirely aside the erasmus-darwin and lamarckian factors of change of environment, though occasionally acknowledging the value of use and disuse, he triumphantly broke over all opposition, and lived to see his doctrine generally accepted. he had besides the support of some of the strongest men in science: wallace in a twin paper advocated the same views; spencer, lyell, huxley, hooker, haeckel, bates, semper, wyman, gray, leidy, and other representative men more or less endorsed darwin's views, or at least some form of evolution, and owing largely to their efforts in scientific circles and in the popular press, the doctrine of descent rapidly permeated every avenue of thought and became generally accepted. meanwhile, the general doctrine of evolution thus proved, and the "survival of the fittest" an accomplished fact, the next step was to ascertain "how," as cope asked, "the fittest originated?" it was felt by some that natural selection alone was not adequate to explain the first steps in the origin of genera, families, orders, classes, and branches or phyla. it was perceived by some that natural selection by itself was not a _vera causa_, an efficient agent, but was passive, and rather expressed the results of the operations of a series of factors. the transforming should naturally precede the action of the selective agencies. we were, then, in our quest for the factors of organic evolution, obliged to fall back on the action of the physico-chemical forces such as light, or its absence, heat, cold, change of climate; and the physiological agencies of food, or in other words on changes in the physical environment, as well as in the biological environment. lamarck was the first one who, owing to his many years' training in systematic botany and zoölogy, and his philosophic breadth, had stated more fully and authoritatively than any one else the results of changes in the action of the primary factors of evolution. hence a return on the part of many in europe, and especially in america, to lamarckism or its modern form, neolamarckism. lamarck had already, so far as he could without a knowledge of modern morphology, embryology, cytology, and histology, suggested those fundamental principles of transformism on which rests the selective principle. had his works been more accessible, or, where available, more carefully read, and his views more fairly represented; had he been favored in his lifetime by a single supporter, rather than been unjustly criticised by cuvier, science would have made more rapid progress, for it is an axiomatic truth that the general acceptance of a working evolutionary theory has given a vast impetus to biology. we will now give a brief historical summary of the history of opinion held by lamarckians regarding the causes of the "origin of the fittest," the rise of variations, and the appearance of a population of plant and animal forms sufficiently extensive and differentiated to allow for the play of the competitive forces, and of the more passive selective agencies which began to operate in pre-cambrian times, or as soon as the earth became fitted for the existence of living beings. the first writer after lamarck to work along the lines he laid down was mr. herbert spencer. in - , in his epochal and remarkably suggestive _principles of biology_, the doctrine of use and disuse is implicated in his statements as to the effects of motion on structure in general;[ ] and in his theory as to the origin of the notochord, and of the segmentation of the vertebral column and the segmental arrangement of the muscles by muscular strains,[ ] he laid the foundations for future work along this line. he also drew attention in the same work to the complementary development of parts, and likewise instanced the decreased size of the jaws in the civilized races of mankind, as a change not accounted for by the natural selection of favorable variations.[ ] in fact, this work is largely based on the lamarckian principles, as affording the basis for the action of natural selection, and thirty years later we find him affirming: "the direct action of the medium was the primordial factor of organic evolution."[ ] in his well-known essay on "the inadequacy of natural selection" ( ) the great philosopher, with his accustomed vigor and force, criticises the arguments of those who rely too exclusively on darwinism alone, and especially neodarwinism, as a sufficient factor to account for the origin of special structures as well as species. the first german author to appreciate the value of the lamarckian factors was that fertile and comprehensive philosopher and investigator ernst haeckel, who also harmonized lamarckism and darwinism in these words: "we should, on account of the grand proofs just enumerated, have to adopt lamarck's theory of descent for the explanation of biological phenomena, even if we did not possess darwin's theory of selection. the one is so completely and _directly proved_ by the other, and established by mechanical causes, that there remains nothing to be desired. the laws of _inheritance_ and _adaptation_ are universally acknowledged physiological facts, the former traceable to propagation, the latter to the _nutrition_ of organisms. on the other hand, the _struggle for existence_ is a _biological_ fact, which with mathematical necessity follows from the general disproportion between the average number of organic individuals and the numerical excess of their germs."[ ] a number of american naturalists at about the same date, as the result of studies in different directions, unbiassed by a too firm belief in the efficacy of natural selection, and relying on the inductive method alone, worked away at the evidence in favor of the primary factors of evolution along lamarckian lines, though quite independently, for at first neither hyatt nor cope had read lamarck's writings. in professor a. hyatt published the first of a series of classic memoirs on the genetic relations of the fossil cephalopods. his labors, so rich in results, have now been carried on for forty years, and are supplemented by careful, prolonged work on the sponges, on the tertiary shells of steinheim, and on the land shells of the hawaiian islands. his first paper was on the parallelism between the different stages of life in the individual and those of the ammonites, carrying out d'orbigny's discovery of embryonic, youthful, adult, and old-age stages in ammonites,[ ] and showing that these forms are due to an acceleration of growth in the mature forms, and a retardation in the senile forms. in a memoir on the "biological relations of the jurassic ammonites,"[ ] he assigns the causes of the progressive changes in these forms, the origination of new genera, and the production of young, mature, and senile forms to "the favorable nature of the physical surroundings, primarily producing characteristic changes which become perpetuated and increased by inheritance within the group." the study of the modifications of the tertiary forms of planorbis at steinheim, begun by hilgendorf, led among others (nine in all) to the following conclusions: "first, that the unsymmetrical spiral forms of the shells of these and of all the mollusca probably resulted from the action of the laws of heredity, modified by gravitation. "second, that there are many characteristics in these shells and in other groups, which are due solely to the uniform action of the physical influence of the immediate surroundings, varying with every change of locality, but constant and uniform within each locality. "third, that the darwinian law of natural selection does not explain these relations, but applies only to the first stages in the establishment of the differences between forms or species in the same locality. that its office is to fix these in the organization and bring them within the reach of the laws of heredity." these views we find reiterated in his later palæontological papers. hyatt's views on acceleration were adopted by neumayr.[ ] waagen,[ ] from his studies on the jurassic cephalopods, concludes that the factors in the evolution of these forms were changes in external conditions, geographical isolation, competition, and that the fundamental law was not that of darwin, but "the law of development." hyatt has also shown that at first evolution was rapid. "the evolution is a purely mechanical problem in which the action of the habitat is the working agent of all the major changes; first acting upon the adult stages, as a rule, and then through heredity upon the earlier stages in successive generations." he also shows that as the primitive forms migrated and occupied new, before barren, areas, where they met with new conditions, the organisms "changed their habits and structures rapidly to accord with these new conditions."[ ] while the palæontological facts afford complete and abundant proofs of the modifying action of changes in the environment, hyatt, in , from his studies on sponges,[ ] shows that the origin of their endless forms "can only be explained by the action of physical surroundings directly working upon the organization and producing by such direct action the modifications or common variations above described." mr. a. agassiz remarks that the effect of the nature of the bottom of the sea on sponges and rhizopods "is an all-important factor in modifying the organism."[ ] while hyatt's studies were chiefly on the ammonites, molluscs, and existing sponges, cope was meanwhile at work on the batrachians. his _origin of genera_ appeared shortly after hyatt's first paper, but in the same year ( ). this was followed by a series of remarkably suggestive essays based on his extensive palæontological work, which are in part reprinted in his _origin of the fittest_ ( ); while in his epoch-making book, _the primary factors of organic evolution_ ( ), we have in a condensed shape a clear exposition of some of the lamarckian factors in their modern neolamarckian form. in the introduction, p.  , he remarks: "in these papers by professor hyatt and myself is found the first attempt to show by concrete examples of natural taxonomy that the variations that result in evolution are not multifarious or promiscuous, but definite and direct, contrary to the method which seeks no origin for variations other than natural selection. in other words, these publications constitute the first essays in systematic evolution that appeared. by the discovery of the paleontologic succession of modifications of the articulations of the vertebrate, and especially mammalian, skeleton, i first furnished an actual demonstration of the reality of the lamarckian factor of use, or motion, as friction, impact, and strain, as an efficient cause of evolution."[ ] the discussion in cope's work of kinetogenesis, or of the effects of use and disuse, affords an extensive series of facts in support of these factors of lamarck's. as these two books are accessible to every one, we need only refer the reader to them as storehouses of facts bearing on neolamarckism. the present writer, from a study of the development and anatomy of limulus and of arthropod ancestry, was early ( )[ ] led to adopt lamarckian views in preference to the theory of natural selection, which never seemed to him adequate or sufficiently comprehensive to explain the origin of variations. in the following year,[ ] from a study of the insects and other animals of mammoth cave, we claimed that "the characters separating the genera and species of animals are those inherited from adults, modified by their physical surroundings and adaptations to changing conditions of life, inducing certain alterations in parts which have been transmitted with more or less rapidity, and become finally fixed and habitual." in an essay entitled "the ancestry of insects"[ ] ( ) we adopted the lamarckian factors of change of habits and environment, of use and disuse, to account for the origin of the appendages, while we attributed the origin of the metamorphoses of insects to change of habits or of the temperature of the seasons and of climates, particularly the change in the earth's climates from the earlier ages of the globe, "when the temperature of the earth was nearly the same the world over, to the times of the present distribution of heat and cold in zones." from further studies on cave animals, published in ,[ ] we wrote as follows: "in the production of these cave species, the exceptional phenomena of darkness, want of sufficient food, and unvarying temperature, have been plainly enough _veræ causæ_. to say that the principle of natural selection accounts for the change of structure is no explanation of the phenomena; the phrase has to the mind of the writer no meaning in connection with the production of these cave forms, and has as little meaning in accounting for the origination of species and genera in general. darwin's phrase 'natural selection,' or herbert spencer's term 'survival of the fittest,' expresses simply the final result, while the process of the origination of the new forms which have survived, or been selected by nature, is to be explained by the action of the physical environments of the animals coupled with inheritance-force. it has always appeared to the writer that the phrases quoted above have been misused to state the cause, when they simply express the result of the action of a chain of causes which we may, with herbert spencer, call the 'environment' of the organism undergoing modification; and thus a form of lamarckianism, greatly modified by recent scientific discoveries, seems to meet most of the difficulties which arise in accounting for the origination of species and higher groups of organisms. certainly 'natural selection' or the 'survival of the fittest' is not a _vera causa_, though the 'struggle for existence' may show us the causes which have led to the _preservation_ of species, while changes in the environment of the organism may satisfactorily account for the original tendency to variation assumed by mr. darwin as the starting-point where natural selection begins to act." in our work on _the cave animals of north america_,[ ] after stating that darwin in his _origin of species_ attributed the loss of eyes "wholly to disuse," remarking (p.  ) that after the more or less perfect obliteration of the eyes, "natural selection will often have effected other changes, such as an increase in the length of the antennæ or palpi, as a compensation for blindness," we then summed up as follows the causes of the production of cave faunæ in general: " . change in environment from light, even partial, to twilight or total darkness, and involving diminution of food, and compensation for the loss of certain organs by the hypertrophy of others. " . disuse of certain organs. " . adaptation, enabling the more plastic forms to survive and perpetuate their stock. " . isolation, preventing intercrossing with out-of-door forms, thus insuring the permanency of the new varieties, species, or genera. " . heredity, operating to secure for the future the permanence of the newly originated forms as long as the physical conditions remain the same. "natural selection perhaps expresses the total result of the working of these five factors rather than being an efficient cause in itself, or at least constitutes the last term in a series of causes. hence lamarckism in a modern form, or as we have termed it, neolamarckism, seems to us to be nearer the truth than darwinism proper or natural selection."[ ] in an attempt to apply lamarck's principle of the origin of the spines and horns of caterpillars and other insects as well as other animals to the result of external stimuli,[ ] we had not then read what he says on the subject. (see p.  .) having, however, been led to examine into the matter, from the views held by recent observers, especially henslow, and it appearing that lamarck was substantially correct in supposing that the blood (his "fluids") would flow to parts on the exposed portions of the body and thus cause the origin of horns, on the principle of the saying, "_ubi irritatio, ibi affluxus_," we came to the following conclusions: "the lamarckian factors ( ) change (both direct and indirect) in the _milieu_, ( ) need, and ( ) habit, and the now generally adopted principle that a change of function induces change in organs,[ ] and in some or many cases actually induces the hypertrophy and specialization of what otherwise would be indifferent parts or organs;--these factors are all-important in the evolution of the colors, ornaments, and outgrowths from the cuticle of caterpillars." our present views as to the relations between the lamarckian factors and the darwinian one of natural selection are shown by the following summary at the end of this essay. " . the more prominent tubercles, and spines or bristles arising from them, are hypertrophied piliferous warts, the warts, with the seta or hair which they bear, being common to all caterpillars. " . the hypertrophy or enlargement was probably [we should rather say _possibly_] primarily due to a change of station from herbs to trees, involving better air, a more equable temperature, perhaps a different and better food. " . the enlarged and specialized tubercles developed more rapidly on certain segments than on others, especially the more prominent segments, because the nutritive fluids would tend more freely to supply parts most exposed to external stimuli. " . the stimuli were in great part due to the visits of insects and birds, resulting in a mimicry of the spines and projections on the trees; the colors (lines and spots) were due to light or shade, with the general result of protective mimicry, or adaptation to tree-life. " . as the result of some unknown factor some of the hypodermic cells at the base of the spines became in certain forms specialized so as to secrete a poisonous fluid. " . after such primitive forms, members of different families, had become established on trees, a process of arboreal segregation or isolation would set in, and intercrossing with low-feeders would cease. " . heredity, or the unknown factors of which heredity is the result, would go on uninterruptedly, the result being a succession of generations perfectly adapted to arboreal life. " . finally the conservative agency of natural selection operates constantly, tending towards the preservation of the new varieties, species, and genera, and would not cease to act, in a given direction, so long as the environment remained the same. " . thus in order to account for the origin of a species, genus, family, order, or even a class, the first steps, causing the origination of variations, were in the beginning due to the primary (direct and indirect) factors of evolution (neolamarckism), and the final stages were due to the secondary factors, segregation and natural selection (darwinism)." from a late essay[ ] we take the following extracts explaining our views: "in seeking to explain the causes of a metamorphosis in animals, one is compelled to go back to the primary factors of organic evolution, such as the change of environment, whether the factors be cosmical (gravity), physical changes in temperature, effects of increased or diminished light and shade, under- or over-nutrition, and the changes resulting from the presence or absence of enemies, or from isolation. the action of these factors, whether direct or indirect, is obvious, when we try to explain the origin or causes of the more marked metamorphoses of animals. then come in the other lamarckian factors of use and disuse, new needs resulting in new modes of life, habits, or functions, which bring about the origination, development, and perfection of new organs, as in new species and genera, etc., or which in metamorphic forms may result in a greater increase in the number of, and an exaggeration of the features characterizing the stages of larval life. "vi. _the adequacy of neolamarckism_. "it is not to be denied that in many instances all through the ceaseless operation of these fundamental factors there is going on a process of sifting or of selection of forms best adapted to their surroundings, and best fitted to survive, but this factor, though important, is quite subordinate to the initial causes of variation, and of metamorphic changes. "neolamarckism,[ ] as we understand this doctrine, has for its foundation a combination of the factors suggested by the buffon and geoffroy st. hilaire school, which insisted on the direct action of the _milieu_, and of lamarck, who relied both on the direct (plants and lowest animals) and on the indirect action of the environment, adding the important factors of need and of change of habits resulting either in the atrophy or in the development of organs by disuse or use, with the addition of the hereditary transmission of characters acquired in the lifetime of the individual. "lamarck's views, owing to the early date of his work, which was published in , before the foundation of the sciences of embryology, cytology, palæontology, zoögeography, and in short all that distinguishes modern biology, were necessarily somewhat crude, though the fundamental factors he suggested are those still invoked by all thinkers of lamarckian tendencies. "neolamarckism gathers up and makes use of the factors both of the st. hilaire and lamarckian schools, as containing the more fundamental causes of variation, and adds those of geographical isolation or segregation (wagner and gulick), the effects of gravity, the effects of currents of air and of water, of fixed or sedentary as opposed to active modes of life, the results of strains and impacts (ryder, cope, and osborn), the principle of change of function as inducing the formation of new structures (dohrn), the effects of parasitism, commensalism, and of symbiosis--in short, the biological environment; together with geological extinction, natural and sexual selection, and hybridity. "it is to be observed that the neolamarckian in relying mainly on these factors does not overlook the value of natural selection as a guiding principle, and which began to act as soon as the world became stocked with the initial forms of life, but he simply seeks to assign this principle to its proper position in the hierarchy of factors. "natural selection, as the writer from the first has insisted, is not a _vera causa_, an initial or impelling cause in the origination of new species and genera. it does not start the ball in motion; it only, so to speak, guides its movements down this or that incline. it is the expression, like that of "the survival of the fittest" of herbert spencer, of the results of the combined operation of the more fundamental factors. in certain cases we cannot see any room for its action; in some others we cannot at present explain the origin of species in any other way. its action increased in proportion as the world became more and more crowded with diverse forms, and when the struggle for existence had become more unceasing and intense. it certainly cannot account for the origination of the different branches, classes, or orders of organized beings. it in the main simply corresponds to artificial selection; in the latter case, man selects forms already produced by domestication, the latter affording sports and varieties due to change in the surroundings, that is, soil, climate, food, and other physical features, as well as education. "in the case also of heredity, which began to operate as soon as the earliest life forms appeared, we have at the outset to invoke the principle of the heredity of characters acquired during the lifetime of lowest organisms. "finally, it is noticeable that when one is overmastered by the dogma of natural selection he is apt, perhaps unconsciously, to give up all effort to work out the factors of evolution, or to seek to work out this or that cause of variation. trusting too implicitly to the supposed _vera causa_, one may close his eyes to the effects of change of environment or to the necessity of constant attempts to discover the real cause of this or that variation, the reduction or increase in size of this or that organ; or become insensible to the value of experiments. were the dogma of natural selection to become universally accepted, further progress would cease, and biology would tend to relapse into a stage of atrophy and degeneration. on the other hand, a revival of lamarckism in its modern form, and a critical and doubting attitude towards natural selection as an efficient cause, will keep alive discussion and investigation, and especially, if resort be had to experimentation, will carry up to a higher plane the status of philosophical biology." although now the leader of the neodarwinians, and fully assured of the "all-sufficiency" of natural selection, the veteran biologist weismann, whose earlier works were such epoch-making contributions to insect embryology, was, when active as an investigator, a strong advocate of the lamarckian factors. in his masterly work, _studies in the theory of descent_[ ] ( ), although accepting darwin's principle of natural selection, he also relied on "the transforming influence of direct action as upheld by lamarck," although he adds, "its extent cannot as yet be estimated with any certainty." he concluded from his studies in seasonal dimorphism, "that differences of specific value can originate through the direct action of external conditions of life only." while conceding that sexual selection plays a very important part in the markings and coloring of butterflies, he adds "that a change produced directly by climate may be still further increased by sexual selection." he also inquired into the origin of variability, and held that it can be elucidated by seasonal dimorphism. he thus formulated the chief results of his investigations: "a species is only caused to change through the influence of changing external conditions of life, this change being in a fixed direction which entirely depends on the physical nature of the varying organism, and is different in different species or even in the two sexes of the same species." the influence of changes of climate on variation has been studied to especial advantage in north america, owing to its great extent, and to the fact that its territory ranges from the polar to the tropical regions, and from the atlantic to the pacific ocean. as respects climatic variation in birds, professor baird first took up the inquiry, which was greatly extended, with especial relation to the formation of local varieties, by dr. j. a. allen,[ ] who was the first to ascertain by careful measurements, and by a study of the difference in plumage and pelage of individuals inhabiting distant portions of a common habitat, the variations due to climatic and local causes. "that varieties," he says, "may and do arise by the action of climatic influences, and pass on to become species; and that species become, in like manner, differentiated into genera, is abundantly indicated by the facts of geographical distribution, and the obvious relation of local forms to the conditions of environment. the present more or less unstable condition of the circumstances surrounding organic beings, together with the known mutations of climate our planet has undergone in past geological ages, point clearly to the agency of physical conditions as one of the chief factors in the evolution of new forms of life. so long as the environing conditions remain stable, just so long will permanency of character be maintained; but let changes occur, however gradual or minute, and differentiations begin." he inclines to regard the modifications as due rather to the direct action of the conditions of environment than to "the round-about process of natural selection." he also admits that change of habits and food, use and disuse, are factors. the same kind of inquiry, though on far less complete data, was extended by the present writer[ ] in to the moths, careful measurements of twenty-five species of geometrid moths common to the atlantic and pacific coasts of north america showing that there is an increase in size and variation in shape of the wings, and in some cases in color, in the pacific coast over eastern or atlantic coast individuals of the same species, the differences being attributed to the action of climatic causes. the same law holds good in the few notodontian moths common to both sides of our continent. similar studies, the results depending on careful measurements of many individuals, have recently been made by c. h. eigenmann ( - ), w. j. moenkhaus ( ), and h. c. bumpus ( - ). the discoveries of owen, gaudry, huxley, kowalevsky, cope, marsh, filhol, osborn, scott, wortmann, and many others, abundantly prove that the lines of vertebrate descent must have been the result of the action of the primary factors of organic evolution, including the principles of migration, isolation, and competition; the selective principle being secondary and preservative rather than originative. important contributions to dynamic evolution or kinetogenesis are the essays of cope, ryder, dall, osborn, jackson, scott, and wortmann. ryder began in to publish a series of remarkably suggestive essays on the "mechanical genesis," through strains, of the vertebrate limbs and teeth, including the causes of the reduction of digits. in discussing the origin of the great development of the incisor teeth of rodents, he suggested that "the more severe strains to which they were subjected by enforced or intelligently assumed changes of habit, were the initiatory agents in causing them to assume their present forms, such forms as were best adapted to resist the greatest strains without breaking."[ ] he afterwards[ ] claimed that the articulations of the cartilaginous fin-rays of the trout (_salmo fontinalis_) are due to the mechanical strains experienced by the rays in use as motors of the body of the fish in the water. in the line of inquiry opened up by cope and by ryder are the essays of osborn[ ] on the mechanical causes for the displacement of the elements of the feet in the mammals, and the phylogeny of the teeth. also professor w. b. scott thus expresses the results of his studies:[ ] "to sum up the results of our examination of certain series of fossil mammals, one sees clearly that transformation, whether in the way of the addition of new parts or the reduction of those already present, acts just _as if_ the direct action of the environment and the habits of the animal were the efficient cause of the change, and any explanation which excludes the direct action of such agencies is confronted by the difficulty of an immense number of the most striking coincidences.... so far as i can see, the theory of determinate variations and of use-inheritance is not antagonistic but supplementary to natural selection, the latter theory attempting no explanation of the _causes_ of variation. nor is it pretended for a moment that use and disuse are the sole or even the chief factors in variation." as early as the lamarckian factor of isolation, due to migration into new regions, was greatly extended, and shown by moritz wagner[ ] to be a most important agent in the limitation and fixation of varieties and species. "darwin's work," he says, "neither satisfactorily explains the external cause which gives the first impulse to increased individual variability, and consequently to natural selection, nor that condition which, in connection with a certain advantage in the struggle for life, renders the new characteristics indispensable. the latter is, according to my conviction, solely fulfilled by the voluntary or passive migration of organisms and colonization, which depends in a great measure upon the configuration of the country; so that only under favorable conditions would the home of a new species be founded." this was succeeded by rev. j. t. gulick's profound essays "on diversity of evolution under one set of external conditions"[ ] ( ), and on "divergent evolution through cumulative segregation"[ ] ( ). these and later papers are based on his studies on the land shells of the hawaiian islands. the cause of their extreme diversity of local species is, he claims, not due to climatic conditions, food, enemies, or to natural selection, but to the action of what he calls the "law of segregation." fifteen years later mr. romanes published his theory of physiological selection, which covered much the same ground. a very strong little book by an ornithologist of wide experience, charles dixon,[ ] and refreshing to read, since it is packed with facts, is lamarckian throughout. the chief factor in the formation of local species is, he thinks, isolation; the others are climatic influences (especially the glacial period), use and disuse, and sexual selection as well as chemical agency. dixon insists on the "vast importance of isolation in the modification of many forms of life, without the assistance of natural selection." again he says: "natural selection, as has often been remarked, can only preserve a beneficial variation--it cannot originate it, it is not a cause of variation; on the other hand, the use or disuse of organs is a direct cause of variation, and can furnish natural selection with abundance of material to work upon" (p.  ). the book, like the papers of allen, ridgway, gulick, and others, shows the value of isolation or segregation in special areas as a factor in the origination of varieties and species, the result being the prevention of interbreeding, which would otherwise swamp the incipient varieties. here might be cited delboeuf's law:[ ] "when a modification is produced in a very small number of individuals, this modification, even were it advantageous, would be destroyed by heredity, as the favored individuals would be obliged to unite with the unmodified individuals. _il n'en est rien, cependant._ however great may be the number of forms similar to it, and however small may be the number of dissimilar individuals which would give rise to an isolated individual, we can always, while admitting that the different generations are propagated under the same conditions, meet with a number of generations at the end of which the sum total of the modified individuals will surpass that of the unmodified individuals." giard adds that this law is capable of mathematical demonstration. "thus the continuity or even the periodicity of action of a primary factor, such, for example, as a variation of the _milieu_, shows us the necessary and sufficient condition under which a variety or species originates without the aid of any secondary factor." semper,[ ] an eminent zoölogist and morphologist, who also was the first (in ) to criticise darwin's theory of the mode of formation of coral atolls, though not referring to lamarck, published a strong, catholic, and original book, which is in general essentially lamarckian, while not undervaluing darwin's principle of natural selection. "it appears to me," he says, in the preface, "that of all the properties of the animal organism, variability is that which may first and most easily be traced by exact investigation to its efficient causes." "by a rearrangement of the materials of his argument, however, we obtain, as i conceive, convincing proof that external conditions can exert not only a very powerful selective force, but a transforming one as well, although it must be the more limited of the two. "an organ no longer needed for its original purpose may adapt itself to the altered circumstances, and alter correspondingly if it contains within itself, as i have explained above, the elements of such a change. then the influence exerted by the changed conditions will be _transforming_, not _selective_. "this last view may seem somewhat bold to those readers who know that darwin, in his theory of selection, has almost entirely set aside the direct transforming influence of external circumstances. yet he seems latterly to be disposed to admit that he had undervalued the transforming as well as the selective influence of external conditions; and it seems to me that his objection to the idea of such an influence rested essentially on the method of his argument, which seemed indispensable for setting his theory of selection and his hypothesis as to the transformation of species in a clear light and on a firm footing" (p.  ). dr. h. de varigny has carried on much farther the kind of experiments begun by semper. in his _experimental evolution_ he employs the lamarckian factors of environment and use and disuse, regarding the selective factors as secondary. the lamarckian factors are also depended upon by the late professor eimer in his works on the variation of the wall-lizard and on the markings of birds and mammals ( - ), his final views being comprised in his general work.[ ] the essence of his point of view may be seen by the following quotation: "according to my conception, the physical and chemical changes which organisms experience during life through the action of the environment, through light or want of light, air, warmth, cold, water, moisture, food, etc., and which they transmit by heredity, are the primary elements in the production of the manifold variety of the organic world, and in the origin of species. from the materials thus supplied the struggle for existence makes its selection. these changes, however, express themselves simply as growth" (p.  ). in a later paper[ ] eimer proposes the term "orthogenesis," or direct development, in rigorous conformity to law, in a few definite directions. although this is simply and wholly lamarckism, eimer claims that it is not, "for," he strangely enough says, "lamarck ascribed no efficiency whatever to the effects of outward influences on the animal body, and very little to their effects upon vegetable organisms." whereas if he had read his lamarck carefully, he would have seen that the french evolutionist distinctly states that the environment acts directly on plants and the lower animals, but indirectly on those animals with a brain, meaning the higher vertebrates. the same anti-selection views are held by eimer's pupil, piepers,[ ] who explains organic evolution by "laws of growth, ... uncontrolled by any process of selection." dr. cunningham likewise, in the preface to his translation of eimer's work, gives his reasons for adopting neolamarckian views, concluding that "the theory of selection can never get over the difficulty of the origin of entirely new characters;" that "selection, whether natural or artificial, could not be the essential cause of the evolution of organisms." in an article on "the new darwinism" (_westminster review_, july, ) he claims that weismann's theory of heredity does not explain the origin of horns, venomous teeth, feathers, wings of insects, or mammary glands, phosphorescent organs, etc., which have arisen on animals whose ancestors never had anything similar. discussing the origin of whales and other aquatic mammals, w. kükenthal suggests that the modifications are partially attributable to mechanical principles. (_annals and mag. nat. hist._, february, .) from his studies on the variation of butterflies, karl jordan[ ] proposes the term "mechanical selection" to account for them, but he points out that this factor can only work on variations produced by other factors. certain cases, as the similar variation in the same locality of two species of different families, but with the same wing pattern, tell in favor of the direct action of the local surroundings on the markings of the wings. in the same direction are the essays of schroeder[ ] on the markings of caterpillars, which he ascribes to the colors of the surroundings; of fischer[ ] on the transmutations of butterflies as the result of changes of temperature, and also dormeister's[ ] earlier paper. steinach[ ] attributes the color of the lower vertebrates to the direct influence of the light on the pigment cells, as does biedermann.[ ] in his address on evolution and the factors of evolution, professor a. giard[ ] has given due credit to lamarck as "the creator of transformism," and to the position to be assigned to natural selection as a secondary factor. he quotes at length lamarck's views published in . after enumerating the primary factors of organic evolution, he places natural selection among his secondary factors, such as heredity, segregation, amixia, etc. on the other hand, he states that lamarck was not happy in the choice of the examples which he gave to explain the action of habits and use of parts. "je ne rappellerai par l'histoire tant de fois critique du cou de la giraffe et des cornes de l'escargot." another important factor in the evolution of the metazoa or many-celled animals, from the sponges and polyps upward from the one-celled forms or protozoa, is the principle of animal aggregation or colonization advanced by professor perrier. as civilization and progressive intelligence in mankind arose from the aggregation of men into tribes or peoples which lived a sedentary life, so the agricultural, building, and other arts forthwith sprang up; and as the social insects owe their higher degree of intelligence to their colonial mode of life, so as soon as unicellular organisms began to become fixed, and form aggregates, the sponge and polyp types of organization resulted, this leading to the gastræa, or ancestral form from which all the higher phyla may have originated. m. perrier appears to fully accept lamarck's views, including his speculations as to wants, and use and disuse. he, however, refuses to accept lamarck's extreme view as to the origin through effort of entirely new organs. as he says: "unfortunately, if lamarck succeeded in explaining in a plausible way the modification of organs already existing, their adaptation to different uses, or even their disappearance from disuse, in regard to the appearance of new organs he made hypotheses so venturesome that they led to the momentary forgetfulness of his other forceful conceptions."[ ] the popular idea of lamarckism, and which from the first has been prejudicial to his views, is that an animal may acquire an organ by simply wishing for or desiring it, or, as his french critics put it, "un animal finit toujours par posséder un organe quand il le veut." "such," says perrier,[ ] "is not the idea of lamarck, who simply attributes the transformations of species to the stimulating action of external conditions, construing it under the expression of wants (_besoins_), and explaining by that word what we now call _adaptations_. thus the long neck of the giraffe results from the fact that the animal inhabits a country where the foliage is situated at the tops of high trees; the long legs of the wading birds have originated from the fact that these birds are obliged to seek their food in the water without wetting themselves," etc. (see p.  .) "many cases," says perrier, "may be added to-day to those which lamarck has cited to support his first law [pp.  , ]; the only point which is open to discussion is the extent of the changes which an organ may undergo, through the use it is put to by the animal. it is a simple question of measurement. the possibility of the creation of an organ in consequence of external stimuli is itself a matter which deserves to be studied, and which we have no right to reject without investigation, without observations, or to treat as a ridiculous dream; lamarck would doubtless have made it more readily accepted, if he had not thought it well to pass over the intermediate steps by means of wants. it is incontestable that by lack of exercise organs atrophy and disappear." finally, says perrier: "without doubt the real mechanism of the improvement (_perfectionnement_) of organisms has escaped him [lamarck], but neither has darwin explained it. the law of natural selection is not the indication of a process of transformation of animals; it is the expression of the total results. it states these results without showing us how they have been brought about. we indeed see that it tends to the preservation of the most perfect organisms; but darwin does not show us how the organisms themselves originated. this is a void which we have only during these later years tried to fill" (p.  ). dr. j. a. jeffries, author of an essay "on the epidermal system of birds," in a later paper[ ] thus frankly expresses his views as to the relations of natural selection to the lamarckian factors. referring to darwin's case of the leg bones of domestic ducks compared with those of wild ducks, and the atrophy of disused organs, he adds: "in this case, as with most of lamarck's laws, darwin has taken them to himself wherever natural selection, sexual selection, and the like have fallen to the ground. "darwin's natural selection does not depend, as is popularly supposed, on direct proof, but is adduced as an hypothesis which gains its strength from being compatible with so many facts of correlation between an organism and its surroundings. yet the same writer who considers natural selection proved will call for positive experimental proof of lamarck's theory, and refuse to accept its general compatibility with the facts as support. almost any case where natural selection is held to act by virtue of advantage gained by use of a part is equally compatible with lamarck's theory of use and development. the wings of birds of great power of flight, the relations of insects to flowers, the claws of beasts of prey, are all cases in point." professor j. a. thomson's useful _synthetic summary of the influence of the environment upon the organism_ ( ) takes for its text spencer's aphorism, that the direct action of the medium was the primordial factor of organic evolution. professor geddes relies on the changes in the soil and climate to account for the origin of spines in plants. the botanist sachs, in his _physiology of plants_ ( ), remarks: "a far greater portion of the phenomena of life are [is] called forth by external influences than one formerly ventured to assume." certain botanists are now strong in the belief that the species of plants have originated through the direct influence of the environment. of these the most outspoken is the rev. professor g. henslow. his view is that self-adaptation, by response to the definite action of changed conditions of life, is the true origin of species. in [ ] he insisted, "_in the strictest sense of the term_, that natural selection is not wanted as an 'aid' or a 'means' in originating species." in a later paper[ ] he reasserts that all variations are definite, that there are no indefinite variations, and that natural selection "can take no part in the origination of varieties." he quotes with approval the conclusion of mr. herbert spencer in , published "seven years before darwin and dr. wallace superadded natural selection as an aid in the origin of species. he saw no necessity for anything beyond the natural power of change with adaptation; and i venture now to add my own testimony, based upon upwards of a quarter of a century's observations and experiments, which have convinced me that mr. spencer was right and darwin was wrong. his words are as follows: 'the supporters of the development hypothesis can show ... that any existing species, animal or vegetable, when placed under conditions different from its previous ones, immediately begins to undergo certain changes of structure fitting it for the new conditions; ... that in the successive generations these changes continue until ultimately the new conditions become the natural ones.... they can show that throughout all organic nature there is at work a modifying influence of the kind they assign as the causes of specific differences; an influence which, though slow in its action, does in time, if the circumstances demand it, produce marked changes.'"[ ] mr. henslow adduces observations and experiments by buckman, bailey, lesage, lothelier, costantin, bonnier, and others, all demonstrating that the environment acts directly on the plant. henslow also suggests that endogens have originated from exogenous plants through self-adaptation to an aquatic habit,[ ] which is in line with our idea that certain classes of animals have diverged from the more primitive ones by change of habit, although this has led to the development of new class-characteristics by use and disuse, phenomena which naturally do not operate in plants, owing to their fixed conditions. other botanists--french, german, and english--have also been led to believe in the direct influence of the _milieu_, or environment. such are viet,[ ] and scott elliot,[ ] who attributes the growth of bulbs to the "direct influence of the climate." in a recent work costantin[ ] shares the belief emphatically held by some german botanists in the direct influence of the environment not only as modifying the form, but also as impressing, without the aid of natural selection, that form on the species or part of its inherited stock; and one chapter is devoted to an attempt to establish the thesis that acquired characters are inherited. in his essay "on dynamic influences in evolution" w. h. dall[ ] holds the view that-- "the environment stands in a relation to the individual such as the hammer and anvil bear to the blacksmith's hot iron. the organism suffers during its entire existence a continuous series of mechanical impacts, none the less real because invisible, or disguised by the fact that some of them are precipitated by voluntary effort of the individual itself.... it is probable that since the initiation of life upon the planet no two organisms have ever been subjected to exactly the same dynamic influences during their development.... the reactions of the organism against the physical forces and mechanical properties of its environment are abundantly sufficient, if we are granted a single organism, with a tendency to grow, to begin with; time for the operation of the forces; and the principle of the survival of the fittest." in his paper on the hinge of pelecypod molluscs and its development, he has pointed out a number of the particular ways in which the dynamics of the environment may act on the characters of the hinge and shell of bivalve molluscs. he has also shown that the initiation and development of the columellar plaits in voluta, mitra, and other gasteropod molluscs "are the necessary mechanical result of certain comparatively simple physical conditions; and that the variations and peculiarities connected with these plaits perfectly harmonize with the results which follow within organic material subjected to analogous stresses." in the same line of study is dr. r. t. jackson's[ ] work on the mechanical origin of characters in the lamellibranch molluscs. "the bivalve nature of the shell doubtless arose," he says, "from the splitting on the median line of a primitive univalvular ancestor;" and he adds: "a parallel case is seen in the development of a bivalve shell in ancient crustaceans;" in both types of shells "the form is induced by the mechanical conditions of the case." the adductor muscles of bivalve molluscs and crustaceans are, he shows plainly, the necessary consequence of the bivalvular condition. in his theory as to the origin of the siphon of the clam (_mya arenaria_), he explains it in a manner identical with lamarck's explanations of the origin of the wading and swimming birds, etc., even to the use of the words "effort" and "habit." "in _mya arenaria_ we find a highly elongated siphon. in the young the siphon hardly extends beyond the borders of the valves, and then the animal lives at or close to the surface. in progressive growth, as the animal burrows deeper, the siphon elongates, until it attains a length many times the total length of the valves. "the ontogeny of the individual and the paleontology of the family both show that mya came from a form with a very abbreviated siphon, and it seems evident that the long siphon of this genus was brought about by the effort to reach the surface induced by the habit of deep burial." "the tendency to equalize the form of growth in a horizontal plane, or the geomalic tendency of professor hyatt,[ ] is seen markedly in pelecypods. in forms which crawl on the free borders of the valves, the right and left growth in relation to the perpendicular is obvious, and agrees with the right and left sides of the animal. in pecten the animal at rest lies on the right valve, and swims or flies with the right valve lowermost. here equalization to the right and left of the perpendicular line passing through the centre of gravity is very marked (especially in the vola division of the group); but the induced right and left aspect corresponds to the dorsal and ventral sides of the animal, not the right and left sides, as in the former case. lima, a near ally of pecten, swims with the edges of the valves perpendicular. in this case the geomalic growth corresponds to the right and left sides of the animal. "the oyster has a deep or spoon-shaped attached valve, and a flat or flatter free valve. this form, or a modification of it, we find to be characteristic of all pelecypods which are attached to a foreign object of support by the cementation of one valve. all are highly modified, and are strikingly different from the normal form seen in locomotive types of the group. the oyster may be taken as the type of the form adopted by attached pelecypods. the two valves are unequal, the attached valve being concave, the free valve flat; but they are not only unequal, they are often very dissimilar--as different as if they belonged to a distinct type in what would be considered typical forms. this is remarkable as a case of acquired and inherited characteristics finding very different expression in the two valves of a group belonging to a class typically equivalvular. the attached valve is the most highly modified, and the free is least modified, retaining more fully ancestral characters. therefore, it is to the free young before fixation takes place and to the free, least-modified valve that we must turn in tracing genetic relations of attached groups. another characteristic of attached pelecypods is camerated structure, which is most frequent and extensive in the thick attached valve. the form as above described is characteristic of the ostreidæ, hinnites, spondylus, and plicatula, dimya, pernostrea, aetheria, and mulleria; and chama and its near allies. these various genera, though ostreiform in the adult, are equivalvular and of totally different form in the free young. the several types cited are from widely separated families of pelecypods, yet all, under the same given conditions, adopt a closely similar form, which is strong proof that common forces acting on all alike have induced the resulting form. what the forces are that have induced this form it is not easy to see from the study of this form alone; but the ostrean form is the base of a series, from the summit of which we get a clearer view." (_amer. nat._, pp.  - .) here we see, plainly brought out by jackson's researches, that the lamarckian factors of change of environment and consequently of habit, effort, use and disuse, or mechanical strains resulting in the modifications of some, and even the appearance of new organs, as the adductor muscles, have originated new characters which are peculiar to the class, and thus a new class has been originated. the mollusca, indeed, show to an unusual extent the influence of a change in environment and of use and disuse in the formation of classes. lang's treatment, in his _text-book of comparative anatomy_ ( ), of the subjects of the musculature of worms and crustacea, and of the mechanism of the motion of the segmented body in the arthropoda, is of much value in relation to the mechanical genesis of the body segments and limbs of the members of this type. dr. b. sharp has also discussed the same subject (_american naturalist_, , p.  ), also graber in his works, while the present writer in his _text-book of entomology_ ( ) has attempted to treat of the mechanical origin of the segments of insects, and of the limbs and their jointed structure, along the lines laid down by herbert spencer, lang, sharp, and graber. w. roux[ ] has inquired how natural selection could have determined the special orientation of the sheets of spongy tissue of bone. he contends that the selection of accidental variation could not originate species, because such variations are isolated, and because, to constitute a real advantage, they should rest on several characters taken together. his example is the transformation of aquatic into terrestrial animals. g. pfeffer[ ] opposes the efficacy of natural selection, as do c. emery[ ] and o. hertwig. the essence of hertwig's _the biological problem of to-day_ ( ) is that "in obedience to different external influences the same rudiments may give rise to different adult structures" (p.  ). delage, in his _théories sur l'hérédité_, summarizes under seven heads the objections of these distinguished biologists. species arise, he says, from general variations, due to change in the conditions of life, such as food, climate, use and disuse, very rarely individual variations, such as sports or aberrations, which are more or less the result of disease. mention should also be made of the essays and works of h. driesch,[ ] de varigny,[ ] danilewsky,[ ] verworn,[ ] davenport,[ ] gadow,[ ] and others. in his address on "neodarwinism and neolamarckism," mr. lester f. ward, the palæobotanist, says: "i shall be obliged to confine myself almost exclusively to the one great mind, who far more than all others combined paved the way for the new science of biology to be founded by darwin, namely, lamarck." after showing that lamarck established the functional, or what we would call the dynamic factors, he goes on to say that "lamarck, although he clearly grasped the law of competition, or the struggle for existence, the law of adaptation, or the correspondence of the organism to the changing environment, the transmutation of species, and the genealogical descent of all organic beings, the more complex from the more simple; he nevertheless failed to conceive the selective principle as formulated by darwin and wallace, which so admirably complemented these great laws."[ ] as is well known, huxley was, if we understand his expressions aright, not fully convinced of the entire adequacy of natural selection. "there is no fault to be found with mr. darwin's method, then; but it is another question whether he has fulfilled all the conditions imposed by that method. is it satisfactorily proved, in fact, that species may be originated by selection? that there is such a thing as natural selection? that none of the phenomena exhibited by species are inconsistent with the origin of species in this way? * * * * * "after much consideration, with assuredly no bias against mr. darwin's views, it is our clear conviction that, as the evidence stands, it is not absolutely proven that a group of animals, having all the characters exhibited by species in nature, has ever been originated by selection, whether artificial or natural. groups having the morphological character of species, distinct and permanent races, in fact, have been so produced over and over again; but there is no positive evidence, at present, that any group of animals has, by variation and selective breeding, given rise to another group which was even in the least degree infertile with the first. mr. darwin is perfectly aware of this weak point, and brings forward a multitude of ingenious and important arguments to diminish the force of the objection."[ ] we have cited the foregoing conclusions and opinions of upwards of forty working biologists, many of whom were brought up, so to speak, in the darwinian faith, to show that the pendulum of evolutionary thought is swinging away from the narrow and restricted conception of natural selection, pure and simple, as the sole or most important factor, and returning in the direction of lamarckism. we may venture to say of lamarck what huxley once said of descartes, that he expressed "the thoughts which will be everybody's two or three centuries after" him. only the change of belief, due to the rapid accumulation of observed facts, has come in a period shorter than "two or three centuries;" for, at the end of the very century in which lamarck, whatever his crudities, vagueness, and lack of observations and experiments, published his views, wherein are laid the foundations on which natural selection rests, the consensus of opinion as to the direct and indirect influence of the environment, and the inadequacy of natural selection as an initial factor, was becoming stronger and deeper-rooted each year. we must never forget or underestimate, however, the inestimable value of the services rendered by darwin, who by his patience, industry, and rare genius for observation and experiment, and his powers of lucid exposition, convinced the world of the truth of evolution, with the result that it has transformed the philosophy of our day. we are all of us evolutionists, though we may differ as to the nature of the efficient causes. footnotes: [ ] vol. ii., p.  , . [ ] vol. ii., p.  . [ ] vol. i., §  , p.  . [ ] _the factors of organic evolution_, , p.  . [ ] _schöpfungegeschichte_, . _the history of creation_, new york, ii., p.  . [ ] alcide d'orbigny, _paléontologie française_, paris, - . [ ] abstract in proceedings of the boston society of natural history, xvii., december  , . [ ] _zeitschr. der deutsch. geol. gesellschaft_, . [ ] _palæontologica indica_. jurassic fauna of kutch. i. cephalopoda, pp.  - . (see hyatt's _genesis of the arietidæ_, pp.  , .) [ ] "genera of fossil cephalopods," proc. bost. soc. nat. hist., xxii., april  , , p.  . [ ] "revision of the north american poriferæ." memoirs bost. soc. nat. hist., ii., part iv., . [ ] _three cruises of the "blake,"_ , ii., p.  . [ ] the earliest paper in which he adopted the lamarckian doctrines of use and effort was his "methods of creation of organic types" ( ). in this paper cope remarks that he "has never read lamarck in french, nor seen a statement of his theory in english, except the very slight notices in the _origin of species_ and _chambers' encyclopædia_, the latter subsequent to the first reading of this paper." it is interesting to see how thoroughly lamarckian cope was in his views on the descent theory. [ ] proceedings of the american association for the advancement of science, troy meeting, . printed in august, . [ ] _american naturalist_, v., december, , p.  . see also pp.  , , . [ ] printed in advance, being chapter xiii. of _our common insects_, salem, , pp.  , , , , , . [ ] "a new cave fauna in utah." _bulletin of the united states geological survey_, iii., april  , , p.  . [ ] memoirs of the national academy of sciences, iv., , pp.  :  plates. see also _american naturalist_, sept., , xxii., p.  , and sept., , xxviii., p.  . [ ] carl h. eigenmann, in his elaborate memoir, _the eyes of the blind vertebrates of north america (archiv für entwickelungsmechanik der organismen_, , viii.), concludes that the lamarckian view, that through disuse and the transmission by heredity of the characters thus inherited the eyes of blind fishes are diminished, "is the only view so far examined that does not on the face of it present serious objections" (pp.  - ). [ ] "hints on the evolution of the bristles, spines, and tubercles of certain caterpillars, etc." proceedings boston society of natural history, xxiv., , pp.  - ;  plates. [ ] e. j. marey: "le transformisme et la physiologie expérimentale, cours du collège de france," _revue scientifique_, ^me série, iv., p.  . (function makes the organ, especially in the osseous and muscular systems.) see also a. dohrn: _der ursprung der wirbelthiere und das princip des functionswechsels_, leipzig, . see also lamarck's opinion, p.  . [ ] "on the inheritance of acquired characters in animals with a complete metamorphosis." proceedings amer. acad. arts and sciences, boston, xxix. (n. s., xxi.). , pp.  - ; also monograph of "bombycine moths," memoirs nat. acad. sciences, vii., , p.  . [ ] in , in the introduction to the _standard natural history_, we proposed the term neolamarckianism, or lamarckism in its modern form, to designate the series of factors of organic evolution, and we take the liberty to quote the passage in which the word first occurs. we may add that the briefer form, neolamarckism, is the more preferable. "in the united states a number of naturalists have advocated what may be called neo-lamarckian views of evolution, especially the conception that in some cases rapid evolution may occur. the present writer, contrary to pure darwinians, believes that many species, but more especially types of genera and families, have been produced by changes in the environment acting often with more or less rapidity on the organism, resulting at times in a new genus, or even a family type. natural selection, acting through thousands, and sometimes millions, of generations of animals and plants, often operates too slowly; there are gaps which have been, so to speak, intentionally left by nature. moreover, natural selection was, as used by some writers, more an idea than a _vera causa_. natural selection also begins with the assumption of a tendency to variation, and presupposes a world already tenanted by vast numbers of animals among which a struggle for existence was going on, and the few were victorious over the many. but the entire inadequacy of darwinism to account for the primitive origin of life forms, for the original diversity in the different branches of the tree of life forms, the interdependence of the creation of ancient faunas and floras on geological revolutions, and consequent sudden changes in the environment of organisms, has convinced us that darwinism is but one of a number of factors of a true evolution theory; that it comes in play only as the last term of a series of evolutionary agencies or causes; and that it rather accounts, as first suggested by the duke of argyll, for the _preservation_ of forms than for their origination. we may, in fact, compare darwinism to the apex of a pyramid, the larger mass of the pyramid representing the complex of theories necessary to account for the world of life as it has been and now is. in other words, we believe in a modified and greatly extended lamarckianism, or what may be called neo-lamarckianism." [ ] _studies in the theory of descent_. by dr. august weismann. translated and edited, with notes, by raphael meldola. london, .  vols. [ ] "the influence of physical conditions in the genesis of species," _radical review_, i., may, . see also j. a. allen in bull. mus. comp. zoöl. ii., ; also r. ridgway, _american journal of science_, december, , january, . [ ] annual report of the united states geological and geographical survey territories, . pp.  - . see also the author's monograph of geometrid moths or phalænidæ of the united states, , pp.  - , and monograph of bombycine moths (notodontidæ), p.  . [ ] proceedings academy of natural science, philadelphia ( ), p.  . [ ] proceedings of the american philosophical society ( ), p.  . [ ] transactions american philosophical society, xvi. ( ), and later papers. [ ] _american journal of morphology_ ( ), pp.  , . [ ] "Über die darwinische theorie in besug auf die geographische verbreitung der organismen." sitzenb. der akad. münchen, . translated by j. l. laird under the title, _the darwinian theory and the law of the migration of organisms_. london, . also _ueber den einfluss der geographischen isolirung und colonierbildung auf die morphologischen veränderungen der organismen_. münchen, . [ ] _linnæan society's journal_: zoölogy, xi., . [ ] _linnæan society's journal_: zoölogy, xx., , pp.  - , - : also _nature_, july  , . [ ] _evolution without natural selection; or, the segregation of species without the aid of the darwinian hypothesis_, london ( ), pp.  - . [ ] _revue scientifique_, xix. ( ). p.  . quoted by giard in _rev. sci._, , p.  . [ ] _animal life as affected by the natural conditions of existence._ by karl semper. the international scientific series. new york, . [ ] _organic evolution as the result of the inheritance of acquired characters, according to the laws of organic growth._ translated by j. t. cunningham, . [ ] _on orthogenesis and the impotence of natural selection in species formation._ chicago, . [ ] _die farbenevolution bei den pieriden_. leiden, . [ ] "on mechanical selection and other problems." _novitates zoologicæ_, iii. tring, . [ ] _entwicklung der raupenzeichnung und abhängigkeit der letzeren von der farbe der umgebung_, . [ ] _transmutation der schmetterlinge infolge temperatur-veränderungen_, . [ ] _ueber den einfluss der temperatur bei der erzeugung der schmetterlings-varietäten_, . [ ] _ueber farbenwechsel bei niederen wirbelthieren, bedingt durch directe wirkung des lichts auf die pigmentzellen._ _centralblatt für physiologie_, , v., p.  . [ ] _ueber den farbenwechsel der frösche._ _pflüger's archiv für physiologie_, , li., p.  . [ ] _leçon d'ouverture du cours de l'Évolution des Êtres organisés._ paris, , and "les facteurs de l'Évolution," _revue scientifique_, november , . [ ] _revue encyclopédique_, . p.  . yet we have an example of the appearance of a new organ in the case of the duckbill, in which the horny plates take the place of the teeth which poulton has discovered in the embryo. other cases are the adductor muscles of shelled crustacea. (see p.  .) [ ] _la philosophie zoologique avant darwin_. paris, , p.  . [ ] "lamarckism and darwinism." proceedings boston society natural history, xxv., , pp.  - . [ ] "the origin of species without the aid of natural selection," _natural science_, oct., . also, "the origin of plant structures." [ ] "does natural selection play any part in the origin of species among plants?" _natural science_, sept., . [ ] "essay on the development hypothesis," , london _times_. [ ] "a theoretical origin of endogens from exogens through self-adaptation to an aquatic habit," _linnean society journal_: botany, , _l. c._, xxix., pp.  - . a case analogous to kinetogenesis in animals is his statement based on mathematical calculations by mr. hiern, "that the best form of the margin of floating leaves for resisting the strains due to running water is circular, or at least the several portions of the margin would be circular arcs" (p.  ). [ ] "de l'influence du milieu sur la structure anatomique des végétaux," _ann. sci. nat. bot._, ser.  , xii., , p.  . [ ] "notes on the regional distribution of the cape flora," _transactions_ botanical society, edinburgh. , p.  . [ ] _les végétaux et les milieux cosmiques_, paris, , pp.  . [ ] proceedings biological society of washington, . [ ] "phylogeny of the pelecypoda," memoirs boston society natural history, iv., , pp.  - . also, _american naturalist_, , xxv., pp.  - . [ ] "transformations of planorbis at steinheim, with remarks on the effects of gravity upon the forms of shells and animals," proceedings a. a. a. s., xxix., . [ ] _der kampf der theile im organismus_. leipzig, . also _gesammelte abhandlungen über entwickelungsmechanik der organismen_. leipzig, . [ ] _die unwandlung der arten ein vorgang functioneller selbsgestaltung_. leipzig, . [ ] _gedanken zur descendenz- und vererbungstheorie; biol. centralblatt_, xiii., , - . [ ] _entwickelungmecanische studien_, - . [ ] _experimental evolution_, ; also, "recherches sur le nanisme experimental," _journ. anat. et phys._, . [ ] "ueber die organsplastischen kräfte der organismen," _arbeit. nat. ges._, petersburg, xvi., ; protok, - . [ ] _general physiology_, . [ ] _experimental morphology_, - .  vols. [ ] "modifications of certain organs which seem to be illustrations of the inheritance of acquired characters in mammals and birds." _zool. jahrb. syst. abth._, , iv., pp.  - ; also, _the lost link_, by e. haeckel, with notes, etc., by h. gadow, . [ ] proceedings biological society of washington, vi., , pp.  , . [ ] _lay sermons, addresses, and reviews_, , p.  . a bibliography of the writings of j. b. de lamarck[ ] - flore française ou description succinte de toutes les plantes qui croissent naturellement en france, disposées selon une nouvelle méthode d'analyse et à laquelle on a joint la citation de leurs vertus les moins équivoques en médecine et de leur utilité dans les arts. paris (impr. nationale), . vo,  vol. vol. i. ext. du rapport fait par mm. duhamet et guettard de cet ouvrage. pp.  - . discours préliminaire. pp. i-cxix. principes élémentaires de botanique. pp.  - . méthode analytique.--plantes cryptogames. pp.  - , viii, pl. vol. ii. méthode analytique.--plantes adultes, ou dont les fleurs sont dans un état de développement parfait. pp. iv., . vol. iii. méthode analytique. pp.  , x. _idem._ e édit. paris, . ( - ) flore française ou description succinte de toutes les plantes qui croissent naturellement en france, disposées selon une nouvelle méthode d'analyse, et précédées par un exposé des principes élémentaires de la botanique. (en collaboration avec a. p. de candolle). Édition iii. paris (agasse), .  vol., vo. vol. i. lettre de m. de candolle à m. lamarck. pp. xv. discours préliminaire. (réimpression de la re édit.) pp.  - . principes élémentaires de botanique, pp.  - . méthode analytique: {analyse des genres. pp.  - . {analyse des espèces. pp.  - ,  pl. vol. ii. explication de la carte botanique de france, pp. i-xii. plantes acotylédonées. pp.  - . carte coloriée. vol. iii. monocotylédonées phanérogames. pp.  . vol. iv. " " pp.  . même édition, augmentée du tome  et tome  , contenant espèces non décrites dans les cinq premiers volumes. paris (desray), . vo, pp.  . lettre de m. a. p. de candolle à m. lamarck, pp.  . dictionnaire botanique.--(en encyclopédie méthodique. paris, in to.) i, ; ii, ; pour le iiie volume, , lamarck a été aidé par desrousseaux. le ive, , est de desrousseaux, poiret et savigny. les derniers: v, ; vi, ; vii, ; et viii, , sont de poiret. lamarck et poiret. encyclopédie méthod.: botanique.  vols. et suppl.  à  , avec  pl. mémoire sur un nouveau genre de plante nommé brucea, et sur le faux brésillet d'amérique. mém. acad. des sci.  janvier . pp.  - . mémoire sur les classes les plus convenables à établir parmi les végétaux et sur l'analogie de leur nombre avec celles déterminées dans le règne animal, ayant égard de part et d'autre à la perfection graduée des organes. (de la classification des végétaux.) mém. acad. des sci. . pp.  - . mémoire sur le genre du muscadier, myristica. mém. acad. des sci. . pp.  - , pl. v.-ix. mémoire sur les cabinets d'histoire naturelle, et particulièrement sur celui du jardin des plantes; contenant l'exposition du régime et de l'ordre qui conviennent à cet établissement, pour qu'il soit vraiment utile. (no imprint.) to, pp.  . considérations en faveur du chevalier de la marck, ancien officier au régiment de beaujolais, de l'académie royale des sciences; botaniste du roi, attaché au cabinet d'histoire naturelle. [paris] . vo, pp.  . instruction aux voyageurs autour du monde, sur les observations les plus essentielles à faire en botanique. soc. philom. (bull.) paris, , pp.  . illustrations des genres, ou exposition des caractères de tous les genres de plantes établis par les botanistes (encyclopédie méthodique): i, ; ii, ; iii, , avec  planches. (le supplément, qui constitue le tome iv, , est de poiret.) extrait de la flore française. paris, .  vol. in- vo. tableau encyclopédique et méthodique des trois règnes de la nature. botanique continuée par j. l. m. poiret. paris (panckoucke), - . text,  v.; pls.,  v. (encyclopédie méthodique.) to. tableau encyclopédique et méthodique des trois règnes de la nature. mollusques testacés (et polypes divers). paris (panckoucke) [etc.], - . text ( ),  pp. pls.   v. (encyclopédie méthodique.) to. _idem._ continuator bruguière, jean guillaume. histoire naturelle des vers. par bruguière [et j. b. p. a. de lamarck; continuée par g. p. deshayes]. paris (panckoucke) [etc.], - ,  v. (encyclopédie méthodique.) to. journal d'histoire naturelle, rédigé par mm. lamarck, bruguière, olivier, haüy et pelletier. tomes i, ii. pl.  - , - . paris (impr. du cercle social), . in- vo,  vol. le même, sous le titre: choix de mémoires sur divers objets d'histoire naturelle, par lamarck; formant les collections du journal d'hist. nat.  vol. in- vo, tirés de format in- to, dont le me contient  pl. paris (imprim. du cercle social), . _nota._--tous les exemplaires de cet ouvrage que l'on rencontre sont incomplets. un exemplaire de format in- vo, provenant de la bibliothèque cuvier (et qui se trouve à la bibliothèque du muséum), contient les pages  à  ;  pages copiées à la main terminent le volume, dont on connaît complet un seul exemplaire. sur l'histoire naturelle en général. sur la nature des articles de ce journal qui concernent la botanique. philosophie botanique. l'auteur propose dans cet article un nouveau genre de plante: le genre rothia (rothia carolinensis, p.  , pl.  ). journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . (ce recueil porte aussi le titre suivant: choix de mémoires sur divers objets d'histoire naturelle, par mm. lamarck, bruguière, olivier, haüy et pelletier.) sur le calodendron (calodendron capense), pp.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . philosophie botanique. journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . (dans cet article l'auteur donne la description de: mimosa obliqua. pp.  , pl.  .) sur les travaux de linné. journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . (l'auteur conclut que tout ce que fit linnæus pour la botanique, il le fit aussi pour la zoologie; et ne donna pas moins de preuves de son génie en traitant le règne minéral, quoique dans cette partie de l'histoire naturelle il fut moins heureux en principes et en convenances dans les rapprochements et les déterminations, que dans les deux autres règnes.) sur une nouvelle espèce de vantane. ventanea parviflora. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . exposition d'un nouveau genre de plante nommé drapètes. drapetes muscosus et seq. p.  , pl.  , fig.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur le phyllachne. phyllachne uliginosa. p.  , pl.  , fig.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur l'hyoseris virginica. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur le genre des acacies; et particulièrement sur l'acacie hétérophille. mimosa heterophylla. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur les systèmes et les méthodes de botanique et sur l'analyse. journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur une nouvelle espèce de grassette. pinguicula campanulata, p.  , pl.  , fig. i. journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur l'étude des rapports naturels. journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur les relations dans leur port ou leur aspect, que les plantes de certaines contrées ont entre elles, et sur une nouvelle espèce d'hydrophylle. hydrophyllum magellanicum. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i. . pp.  - . notice sur quelques plantes rares ou nouvelles, observées dans l'amérique septentrionale par m. a. michaux; adressée à la société d'histoire naturelle de paris par l'auteur; et rédigée avec des observations. canna flava--pinguicula lutea--ilex americana--ilex æstivalis--ipomæa rubra--mussænda frondosa--kalmia hirsuta--andromeda mariana--a. formosissima. journ. d'hist. nat i, . pp.  - . sur une nouvelle espèce de loranthe. loranthus cucullaris. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. i, . pp.  - . sur le nouveau genre polycarpea. polycarpæa teneriffæ. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . sur l'augmentation continuelle de nos connaissances à l'égard des espèces et sur une nouvelle espèce de sauge. salvia scabiosæfolia. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . sur une nouvelle espèce de pectis. pectis pinnata. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . sur le nouveau genre sanvitalia. sanvitalia procumbens. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . sur l'augmentation remarquable des espèces dans beaucoup de genres qui n'en offraient depuis longtemps qu'une, et particulièrement sur une nouvelle espèce d'hélénium. helenium caniculatum. p.  , pl.  . journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . observations sur les coquilles, et sur quelques-uns des genres qu'on a établis dans l'ordre des vers testacés. purpurea, fusus, murex, terebra, etc. journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . sur l'administration forestière, et sur les qualités individuelles des bois indigènes, ou qui sont acclimatés en france; auxquels on a joint la description des bois exotiques, que nous fournit le commerce. par _p. c. varenne-tenille_, bourg (philippon), .  vol. vo. journ. d'hist. nat. ii, . pp.  - . sur quatre espèces d'hélices. journ. d'hist nat. ii, . pp.  - . prodrome d'une nouvelle classification des coquilles, comprenant une rédaction appropriée des caractères génériques et l'établissement d'un grand nombre de genres nouveaux.--in mém. soc. hist. nat. paris, i, . p.  . sur les ouvrages généraux en histoire naturelle; et particulièrement sur l'édition du systema naturæ de linnæus, que m. gmelin vient de publier. act. soc. hist. nat., paris, i. re part., . pp.  - . recherches sur les causes des principaux faits physiques, et particulièrement sur celles de la combustion, de l'elévation de l'eau dans l'état de vapeurs; de la chaleur produite par le frottement des corps solides entre eux; de la chaleur qui se rend sensible dans les décompositions subites, dans les effervescences et dans le corps de beaucoup d'animaux pendant la durée de leur vie; de la causticité, de la saveur et de l'odeur de certains composés; de la couleur des corps; de l'origine des composés et de tous les minéraux; enfin, de l'entretien de la vie des êtres organiques, de leur accroissement, de leur état de vigueur, de leur dépérissement et de leur mort. avec une planche. tomes , . paris, seconde année de la république [ ]. vo. mémoire sur les molécules essentiels des composés. soc. philom. rapp., - . pp.  - . voyage de pallas dans plusieurs provinces de l'empire de russie et dans l'asie septentrionale, traduit de l'allemand par gauthier de la peyronnerie. nouvelle édition revue et enrichie de notes par lamarck, langlès et billecoq. paris, an ii ( ).  vol. in- vo, avec un atlas de  pl. folio. voyage au japon, par le cap de bonne-espérance, les îles de la sonde, etc., par thunberg, traduit, rédigé (sur la version anglaise), etc., par langlès, et _revu, quant à l'histoire naturelle_, par lamarck. paris. .  vol. in- to ( vo,  vol.), av. fig. réfutation de la théorie pneumatique et de la nouvelle théorie des chimistes modernes, etc. paris, .  vol. vo. mémoires de physique et d'histoire naturelle, établis sur des bases de raisonnement indépendantes de toute théorie; avec l'explication de nouvelles considérations sur la cause générale des dissolutions, sur la matière du feu; sur la couleur des corps; sur la formation des composés; sur l'origine des minéraux; et sur l'organisation des corps vivants. lus à la première classe de l'institut national, dans ses séances ordinaires. paris, an v ( ).  vol. vo. pp.  . de l'influence de la lune sur l'atmosphère terrestre, etc. bull. soc. philom. i., ; pp.  - . gilbert annal. vi, ; pp.  - ; et nicholson's journal, iii, ; pp.  - . mémoires de physique et d'histoire naturelle. paris, . vo. biogr. un., suppl. lxx. p.  . de l'influence de la lune sur l'atmosphère terrestre. journ. de phys. xlvi, ; pp.  - . gilbert annal. vi, ; pp.  - . tilloch, philos. mag. i, ; pp.  - . paris, soc. philom. (bull.) ii, ; pp.  - . nicholson's journ. iii, . pp.  - . sensibility of plants. (translated from the mémoires de physique.) tilloch, philos. mag. i, . pp.  - . mollusques testacés du tableau encyclopédique et méthodique des trois règnes de la nature, paris, an vi ( ).  vol. in- to de  pl., formant suite à l'histoire des vers de bruguière ( ), continuée par deshayes ( ), de l'encyclopédie méthodique. mémoire sur la matière du feu, considéré comme instrument chimique dans les analyses. º, de l'action du feu employé comme instrument chimique par la voie sèche; p.  . º, de l'action du feu employé comme instrument chimique par la voie humide; p.  . journ. de phys. xlviii, . pp.  - . mémoire sur la matière du son. (lu à l'institut national, le  brumaire an viii, et le du même mois.) journ. de phys. xlix, . pp.  - . sur les genres de la sèche, du calmar et du poulpe, vulgairement nommés polypes de mer. (lu à l'institut national le  floréal an vi.) soc. hist. nat., paris (mém.), . pp.  - , pl.  , . bibl. paris, soc. philom. (bull.) i, part.  , . pp.  - (extrait). prodrome d'une nouvelle classification des coquilles, comprenant une rédaction appropriée des caractères génériques, et l'établissement d'un grand nombre de genres nouveaux. (lu à l'institut national le  frimaire an vii.) soc. hist. nat., paris (mém.), . pp.  - . tableau systématique des genres--  g. sur les fossiles et l'influence du mouvement des eaux, considérés comme indices du déplacement continuel du bassin des mers, et de son transport sur différents points de la surface du globe. (lu à l'institut national le  pluviôse an vii [ ].) hydrogéologie, p.  . annuaire météorologique pour l'an viii de la république française, etc. (annonce.) paris, soc. philom. (bull.) iii, . p.  . annuaire météorologique pour l'an viii de la république. paris, .  vol. mo;  pp. bibl., gilbert annal. vi, . pp.  - . mémoire sur le mode de rédiger et de noter les observations météorologiques, afin d'en obtenir des résultats utiles, et sur les considérations que l'on doit avoir en vue pour cet objet. journ. de phys. li, . pp.  - . annuaire météorologique, contenant l'exposé des probabilités acquises par une longue suite d'observations sur l'état du ciel et sur les variations de l'atmosphère, etc. paris, - ,  volumes, dont les  premiers in- mo, les autres in- vo. système des animaux sans vertèbres ou tableau général des classes, des ordres et des genres de ces animaux. présentant leurs caractères essentiels et leur distribution d'après leurs rapports naturels, et de leur organisation; et suivant l'arrangement établi dans les galeries du muséum d'histoire naturelle parmi les dépouilles conservées. précédé du discours d'ouverture du cours de zoologie donné dans le muséum d'histoire naturelle l'an viii de la république, le  floréal. paris (déterville), an ix ( ), viii. pp.  . bibl., paris, soc. philom. (bull.) iii, - . pp.  - . recherches sur la périodicité présumée des principales variations de l'atmosphère, et sur les moyens de s'assurer de son existence et de sa détermination. (lues à l'institut national de france, le  ventôse an ix.) journ. de phys. lii. . pp.  - . réfutation des résultats obtenus par le c. cotte, dans ses recherches sur l'influence des constitutions lunaires, et imprimés dans le journal de physique, mois de fructidor an ix. p.  . journ. de phys. liii, . pp.  - . sur la distinction des tempêtes d'avec les orages, les ouragans, etc. et sur le caractère du vent désastreux du  brumaire an ix (  novembre ). (lu à l'institut national le  frimaire an ix.) journ. de phys. lii, floréal, . pp.  - . sur les variations de l'état du ciel dans les latitudes moyennes entre l'équateur et le pôle, et sur les principales causes qui y donnent lieu. journ. de phys. lvi. . pp.  - . recherches sur l'organisation des corps vivants et particulièrement sur son origine, sur la cause de ses développements et des progrès de sa composition, et sur celles qui, tendant continuellement à la détruire, dans chaque individu, amènent nécessairement sa mort. (précédé du discours d'ouverture du cours de zoologie au mus. nat. d'hist. nat., an x de la république.) paris (maillard) [ ].  vol. vo. pp.  . affinités chimiques, p.  .--anéantissement de la colonne vertébrale, p.  .--du coeur, p.  .--de l'organe de la vue, p.  .--annélides, p.  .--arachnides, p.  .--la biologie, p.  .--création de la faculté de se reproduire, p.  .--crustacés, p.  .--dégradation de l'organisation d'une extrémité à l'autre de la chaîne des animaux, p.  .--Échelle animale, p.  .--les éléments, p.  .--les espèces, pp.  - .--exercice d'un organe, pp.  , , , .--les facultés, pp.  , , , .--fécondation, p.  .--fluide nerveux, pp.  , , , .--formation directe des premiers traits de l'organisation, pp.  , , , .--générations spontanées, pp.  , , .--habitudes des animaux, pp.  , , .--homme, p.  .--imitation, p.  .--influence du fluide nerveux sur les muscles, p.  .--insectes, p.  .--irritabilité, pp.  , , .--mammaux, p.  .--molécules intégrants des composés, p.  .--mollusques, p.  .--mouvement organique, pp.  - .--multiplication des individus, pp.  - .--nature animale, p.  .--nutrition, p.  .--oiseaux, p.  .--orgasme vital, pp.  - .--organes des corps vivants, p.  .--organes de la pensée, p.  .--organisation, pp.  , , , .--pensée, p.  .--poissons, p.  .--polypes, p.  .--quadrumanes, pp.  , , .--radiaires, p.  .--raison, p.  .--reptiles, p.  .--sentiment, p.  .--troglodyte, p.  .--tableau du règne animal, p.  .--vie, p.  . mémoire sur la tubicinelle. (lu à l'assemblée des professeurs du muséum d'histoire naturelle.) ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, i, . pp.  , pl.  . bull. soc. philom. iii, paris, - . pp.  - . (extrait.) mémoires sur les cabinets d'histoire naturelle et particulièrement sur celui du jardin des plantes; contenant l'exposition du régime et de l'ordre qui conviennent à cet établissement, pour qu'il soit vraiment utile. ext. des ann. du mus. ( ). paris. in- to.  p. des diverses sortes de cabinets où l'on rassemble des objets d'histoire naturelle, p.  . vrais principes que l'on doit suivre dans l'institution d'un cabinet d'histoire naturelle, p.  . sur le cabinet d'histoire naturelle du jardin des plantes, p.  . hydrogéologie, ou recherches de l'influence générale des eaux sur surface du globe terrestre; sur les causes de l'existence du bassin des mers; de son déplacement et de son transport successif sur les différents points de la surface de ce globe; enfin, sur les changements que les corps vivants exercent sur la nature et l'état de cette surface. paris, an x [ ]. vo. pp.  . - mémoires sur les fossiles des environs de paris, comprenant la détermination des espèces qui appartiennent aux animaux marins sans vertèbres, et dont la plupart sont figurés dans la collection des velins du muséum. er mémoire. mollusques testacés dont on trouve les dépouilles fossiles dans les environs de paris. paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) i, . pp.  - ; - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) ii, . pp.  - ; - ; - ; - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) iii, . pp.  - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) iv, . pp.  - ; - ; - ; - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) v, . pp.  - ; - ; - ; - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) vi, . pp.  - ; - ; - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) vii, . pp.  - ; - ; - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) viii, . pp.  - ; - ; - . tirage à part. paris. in- to. . pp.  . er mémoire. genres chiton, patella, fissurella. pp.  - . e " " emarginula, calyptræa, conus, cypræa, terebellum et oliva. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres ancilla, voluta. pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) i, . e mémoire. genres mitra, marginella, cancellaria, purpura. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres buccinum, terebra, harpa, cassis. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres strombus, rostellaria, murex. pp.  - . e mémoire. genre fusus. pp.  - . e " genres fusus, pyrula. pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) ii, . e mémoire. genre pleurotoma. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres pleurotoma, cerithium. pp.  - . e et e mémoires. genre cerithium. pp.  - ; - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) iii, . e mémoire. genres trochus, solarium. pp.  - . e " " turbo, delphinula, cyclostoma. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres scalaria, turritella, bulla. pp.  - . e " " bulimus, phasianella, lymnæa. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres melania, auricula, pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) iv, . e mémoire. genres volvaria, ampullaria, planorbis. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres helicina, nerita, natica. pp.  - . e " " nautilus, discorbis, rotalia, lenticulina. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres nummulites, lituola, spirolina. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres miliola, renulina, gyrogona. pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) v, . e mémoire. genres pinna, mytilus, modiola, nucula. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres pectunculus, arca. pp.  - . e " " cucullæa, cardita, cardium. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres crassatella, mactra, erycina. pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) vi, . e mémoire. genres erycina, venericardia, venus. pp.  - . e " " venus, cytherea, donax. pp.  - . e " " tellina, lucina. pp.  - . e " " cyclas, solen, fistulana. pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) vii, . e mémoire. genre ostrea. pp.  - . e " genres chama, spondylus, pecten. pp.  - . e mémoire. genres lima, corbula. pp.  - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) viii, . sur la crénatule, nouveau genre de coquillage. pl.  . cr. avicularis.--cr. mytiloides.--cr. phasianoptera. ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, iii, . pp.  - , pl.  . sur deux nouveaux genres d'insectes de la nouvelle hollande: chiroscelis bifenestra; p.  . panops baudini; p.  . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, iii, . pp.  - . sur une nouvelle espèce de trigonie, et sur une nouvelle espèce d'huître, découvertes dans le voyage du capitaine baudin. trigonia suborbiculata; p.  , pl.  , fig.  . ostrea ovato-cuneiformis; p.  , pl.  , fig.  . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, iv, . pp.  - . mémoire sur deux nouvelles espèces de volutes des mers de la nouvelle hollande. voluta undulata; p.  , pl. xii., fig.  . voluta nivosa; p.  , pl. xii., fig.  , . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, v, . pp.  - . sur la galathée, nouveau genre de coquillage bivalve. galathea radiata. p.  , pl.  . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, v, . pp.  - . considérations sur quelques faits applicables à la théorie du globe, observés par m. péron dans son voyage aux terres australes, et sur quelques questions géologiques qui naissent de la connaissance de ces faits. (observations zoologiques propres à constater l'ancien séjour de la mer sur le sommet des montagnes des îles de diemen, de la nouvelle hollande et de l'île timor.) ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, vi, . pp.  - . zusatz das nordlicht am sten octob., , betreffend. (translated from the moniteur.) gilbert annal. xix, . pp.  , - . sur la dicerate, nouveau genre de coquillage bivalve. diceras arietina. p.  , pl.  , fig.  . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, vi, . pp.  - . sur l'amphibulime. a. cucullata. p.  , pl.  , fig.  . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, vi, . pp.  - . recherches asiatiques ou mémoires de la société établie au bengale pour faire des recherches sur l'histoire et les antiquités, les arts, les sciences, etc., traduits de l'anglais par la baume, revues et augmentés de notes, pour la partie orientale, par langlès; pour la partie des sciences, par lamarck, etc. paris, .  vol. to, av. pl. - recueil de planches des coquilles fossiles des environs de paris, avec leurs explications. on y a joint  planches de lymnées fossiles et autres coquilles qui les accompagnent, des environs de paris; par m. brard. ensemble  pl. gr. en taille douce. paris (dufour & d'ocagne), . in- to. explic. des premières planches, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) vi, . pp.  - , pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) vii, . pp.  - . pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) viii, . pp.  - . pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) viii, . pp.  - , pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) ix, . pp.  - , pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, , . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) ix, . pp.  - , pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) xii, . pp.  - , pl.  - . explic. des  pl. suivantes, - . paris, mus. hist. nat. (ann.) xiv, . pp.  - , pl.  - . synopsis plantarum in flora gallica descriptarum. (en collab. avec a. p. decandolle.) paris (h. agasse). .  vol. vo. xxiv.  pp. ordinum generumque anomalorum clavis analytica. pp. i-xxiv. discours d'ouverture du cours des animaux sans vertèbres, prononcé dans le muséum d'histoire naturelle en mai  . paris, . br., in- vo. sur la division des mollusques acéphales conchylifères, et sur un nouveau genre de coquille appartenant à cette division (etheria). ann. mus. x, . pp.  - ,  pl. etwas über die meteorologie. gilbert annal. xvii, . pp.  - . sur la division des mollusques acéphalés conchylifères et sur un nouveau genre de coquille appartenant à cette division. (genre etheria.) ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, x, . pp.  - . sur l'Éthérie, nouveau genre de coquille bivalve de la famille des camacées. etheria elliptica; p.  , pl.  et , fig.  . etheria trigonule; p.  , pl.  et , fig.  . etheria semi-lunata; p.  , pl.  , fig.  , . etheria transversa; p.  , pl.  , fig.  , . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris. x, . pp.  - . (ce mémoire se rattache au précédent.) philosophie zoologique, ou exposition des considérations relatives à l'histoire naturelle des animaux; à la diversité de leur organisation et des facultés qu'ils en obtiennent; aux causes physiques qui maintiennent en eux la vie et donnent lieu aux mouvements qu'ils exécutent; enfin, à celles qui produisent, les unes les sentiments, et les autres l'intelligence de ceux qui en sont doués. paris (dentu), .  vol. in- vo, xxv, .  pages. _idem_, nouvelle Édition. paris, j. b. baillière. . (a reprint of the first edition.) me Édition. revue et précédée d'une introduction biographique par charles martins. paris. savy. .  vol. vo. lxxxiv. ;  pages. vol. i. première partie.--considération sur l'histoire naturelle des animaux, leurs caractères, leurs rapports, leur organisation, leur distribution, leur classification et leurs espèces. chap. i. des parties de l'art dans les productions de la nature. p.  . chap. ii. importance de la considération des rapports. p.  . chap. iii. de l'espèce parmi les corps vivants et de l'idée que nous devons attacher à ce mot. p.  . chap. iv. généralités sur les animaux. p.  . chap. v. sur l'état actuel de la distribution et de la classification des animaux. p.  . chap. vi. dégradation et simplification de l'organisation d'une extrémité à l'autre de la chaîne animale, en procédant du plus composé vers le plus simple. p.  . chap. vii. de l'influence des circonstances sur les actions et les habitudes des animaux, et de celle des actions et des habitudes de ces corps vivants, comme causes qui modifient leur organisation et leurs parties. p.  . chap. viii. de l'ordre naturel des animaux, et de la disposition qu'il faut donner à leur distribution générale pour la rendre conforme à l'ordre même de la nature. p.  . deuxième partie.--considérations sur les causes physiques de la vie, les conditions qu'elle exige pour exister, la force excitatrice de ses mouvements, les facultés qu'elle donne aux corps qui la possèdent et les résultats de son existence dans ces corps. chap. i. comparaison des corps inorganiques avec les corps vivants, suivie d'une parallèle entre les animaux et les végétaux. p.  . chap. ii. de la vie, de ce qui la constitue, et des conditions essentielles à son existence dans un corps. p.  . vol. ii. me partie. chap. iii. de la cause excitatrice des mouvements organiques. p.  . chap. iv. de l'orgasme et de l'irritabilité. p.  . chap. v. du tissu cellulaire, considéré comme la gangue dans laquelle toute organisation a été formée. p.  . chap. vi. des générations directes ou spontanées. p.  . chap. vii. des résultats immédiats de la vie dans un corps. p.  . chap. viii. des facultés communes à tous les corps vivants. p.  . chap. ix. des facultés particulières à certains corps vivants. p.  . troisième partie.--considérations sur les causes physiques du sentiment; celles qui constituent la force productrice des actions; enfin, celles qui donnent lieu aux actes d'intelligence qui s'observent dans différents animaux. p.  . chap. i. du système nerveux, de sa formation et des différentes sortes de fonctions qu'il peut exciter. p.  . chap. ii. du fluide nerveux. p.  . chap. iii. de la sensibilité et du mécanisme des sensations. p.  . chap. iv. du sentiment intérieur, des émotions qu'il est susceptible d'éprouver, et de la puissance qu'il en acquiert pour la production des actions. p.  . chap. v. de la force productrice des actions des animaux, et de quelques faits particuliers qui résultent de l'emploi de cette force; p.  . de la consommation et de l'épuisement du fluide nerveux dans la production des actions animales; p.  . de l'origine du penchant aux mêmes actions; p.  . de l'instinct des animaux; p.  . de l'industrie de certains animaux; p.  . chap. vi. de la volonté. p.  . chap. vii. de l'entendement, de son origine, et de celle des idées. p.  . chap. viii. des principaux actes de l'entendement, ou de ceux du premier ordre dont tous les autres dérivent; p.  . de l'imagination; p.  . de la raison et de sa comparaison avec l'instinct; p.  . (ces notes ont été relevées sur l'édition de .) - sur la détermination des espèces parmi les animaux sans vertèbres, et particulièrement parmi les mollusques testacés. (tirage à part, paris, . to.  pls.) ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, xv, . pp.  - . descript. des espèces.--cône (conus). pp.  - ; pp.  - ; pp.  - . descript. des espèces.--porcelaine (cypræa). pp.  - . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, xvi, . descript. des espèces.--porcelaine (cypræa), suite, pp.  - . descript. des espèces.--ovule (ovula). pp.  - . " " " tarrière (terebellum). pp.  - . " " " ancillaire (ancillaria). pp.  - . " " " olive (oliva). pp.  - . ann. mus. hist. nat. xvii, . descript. des espèces.--volute (voluta). pp.  - . " " " mitre (mitra). pp.  - . description des espèces du genre conus. ann. muséum. xv. . pp.  - , - , - . description du genre porcelaine (cypræa) et des espèces qui le composent. ann. mus. xv, . pp.  - . suite de la détermination des espèces de mollusques testacés. continuation du genre porcelaine. ann. mus. xvi, . pp.  - . extrait du cours de zoologie du muséum d'histoire naturelle sur les animaux sans vertèbres, présentant la distribution et classification de ces animaux, les caractères des principales divisions et une simple liste des genres, à l'usage de ceux qui suivent ce cours. paris, octobre . vo. pp.  . sur les polypiers empâtés. ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, xx, . pinceau (penicillus). pp.  , - . flabellaire (flabellaria). pp.  - . synoique (synoicum). pp.  - . Éponge (spongia). pp.  - ; - ; - . ann. mus. hist. nat., paris, i, . téthie (tethya). pp.  - . alcyon (alcyonium). pp.  - ; - ; - . géodie (geodia). pp.  - . botrylle (botryllus). pp.  - . polycycle (polycyclus). pp.  - . - sur les polypiers corticifères. mém. mus. hist. nat., paris, i, . p.  . corail (coraillium). pp.  - . mélite (melitæa). pp.  - . isis. pp.  - . cymosaire (cymosaria). pp.  - . antipate (antipathes). pp.  - . mém. mus. hist. nat., paris, ii, . gorgone (gorgonia). pp.  - ; - . coralline (corallina). pp.  - . rapport fait à l'institut (en collaboration avec cuvier) sur les observations sur les lombrics, ou les vers de terre, etc., par montègre. paris, . br., in- vo,  pl. - histoire naturelle des animaux sans vertèbres, présentant les caractères généraux et particuliers de ces animaux, leur distribution, leurs classes, leurs familles, leurs genres, et la citation des principales espèces qui s'y rapportent; précédée d'une introduction offrant la détermination des caractères essentiels de l'animal, sa distinction du végétal et des autres corps naturels; enfin, l'exposition des principes fondamentaux de la zoologie. paris, mars  à août  .  vol. vo. e édit., paris, - .  vol. in- vo. suite de la détermination des espèces de mollusques testacés. genres volute et mitre. ann. mus. xvii, . pp.  - et - . description des genres tarrière (terebellum), ancillaria et oliva. ann. mus. xvii, . pp.  - . système analytique des connaissances de l'homme restreintes à celles qui proviennent directement ou indirectement de l'observation. paris (berlin), . in- vo. pp.  . première partie.--des objets que l'homme peut considérer hors de lui, et que l'observation peut lui faire connaître, p.  . chap. i. de la matière, p.  . chap. ii. de la nature; p.  . définition de la nature, et exposé des parties dont se compose l'ordre des choses qui la constitue; p.  . objets métaphysiques dont l'ensemble constitue la nature; p.  . de la nécessité d'étudier la nature, c'est-à-dire l'ordre des choses qui la constitue, les lois qui régissent ses actes, et surtout, parmi ces lois, celles qui sont relatives à notre être physique; p.  . exposition des sources où l'homme a puisé les connaissances qu'il possède et dans lesquelles il pourra en recueillir quantité d'autres; sources dont l'ensemble constitue pour lui le champ des réalités; p.  . des objets évidemment produits; p.  . chap. i. des corps inorganiques, p.  . chap. ii. des corps vivants; p.  . des végétaux; p.  . des animaux; p.  . deuxième partie.--de l'homme et de certains systèmes organiques observés en lui, lesquels concourrent à l'exécution de ses actions; p.  . généralités sur le sentiment; p.  . analyse des phénomènes qui appartiennent au sentiment; p.  . sect. i.--de la sensation. p.  . chap. i. des sensations particulières, p.  . chap. ii. de la sensation générale. sect. ii.--du sentiment intérieur et de ses principaux produits. p.  . chap. i. des penchants naturels. p.  . chap. ii. de l'instinct. p.  . sect. iii.--de l'intelligence, des objets qu'elle emploie, et des phénomènes auxquels elle donne lieu. p.  . chap. i. des idées. p.  . chap. ii. du jugement et de la raison. p.  . chap. iii. imagination. p.  . recueil de planches de coquilles fossiles des environs de paris, avec leurs explications. on y a joint deux planches de lymnées fossiles et autres coquilles qui les accompagnent, des environs de paris; par m. brard. paris, .  vol. in- to de  pl. histoire naturelle des végétaux par lamarck et mirbel. paris, déterville (roret). in- mo.  vol., avec  pl. cet ouvrage fait partie de buffon: cours complet d'histoire naturelle (edit. de castel).  vol. in- mo. paris, - . déterville (roret). storia naturale de' vegetabili per famiglie con la citazione de la classe et dell' ordine di linnes, e l'indicazione dell' use che si puo far delle piante nelle arti, nel commercio, nell' agricultura, etc. con disegni tratti dal naturale e un genere completo, secondo il sistema linneano, con de' rinvii alla famiglie naturali, di a. l. jussieu. da g. b. lamarck e da b. mirbel. recata in lingua italiana dal a. farini con note ed aggiunte.  tom. de - . fasc. - . (engelmann's bibliothec. hist. nat., .) footnotes: [ ] prepared by m. g. malloisel, with a few titles added by the author. eulogies and biographical articles on lamarck geoffroy st. hilaire, Étienne.--discours sur lamarck. (recueil publié par l'institut. to. paris, .) cuvier, george.--Éloge de m. de lamarck, par m. le baron cuvier. lu à l'académie des sciences, le  novembre . [no imprint.] paris. (trans. in edinburgh new philosophical journ. no.  .) bourguin, l. b.--les grands naturalistes français au commencement du xixe siècle (annales de la société linnéenne du département de maine-et-loire. me année. angers, . vo. pp.  - ). introduction, pp.  - . lacaze-duthiers, h. de.--de lamarck. (cours de zoologie au muséum d'histoire naturelle.) revue scientifique, . nos.  - - . memoir of lamarck, by j. duncan. see jardine (sir w.), bart., the naturalist's library. vol.  , pp.  - . edinburgh, . quatrefages, a. de.--charles darwin et ses précurseurs français. Étude sur le transformisme. paris, . vo. pp.  . martins, charles.--un naturaliste philosophe. lamarck, sa vie et ses oeuvres. extrait de la revue des deux mondes. livraison du er mars . paris. haeckel, ernst.--die naturanschauung von darwin, goethe und lamarck. vortrag in der ersten öffentlichen sitzung der fünf und fünfzigsten versammlung deutscher naturforscher und aerzte zu eisenach am  september . jena, . vo. pp.  . perrier, edmond.--la philosophie zoologique avant darwin. paris, . pp.  . perrier, edmond.--lamarck et le transformisme actuel. (extrait du volume commémoratif du centenaire de la fondation du muséum d'histoire naturelle.) paris, . folio. pp.  . bourguignat, j. r.--lamarck, j. b. p. a. de monnet de. (biographical sketch, with a partial bibliography of his works, said to have been prepared by m. bourguignat.) revue biographique de la société malacologique de france. paris, . pp.  - . with a portrait after vaux-bidon. mortillet, gabriel de.--lamarck. par g. de mortillet. (l'homme, iv, no.  .  jan. . pp.  - .) with portrait and handwriting, including autograph of lamarck. mortillet, gabriel de, and others.--lamarck. par un groupe de transformistes, ses disciples. (reprinted from l'homme, iv. paris, . vo. pp.  .) with portrait and figures. mortillet, gabriel de.--réunion lamarck. (la société, l'École et le laboratoire d'anthropologie de paris, à l'exposition universelle de paris.) paris, . pp.  - . mortillet, adrien de.--recherches sur lamarck (including acte de naissance, acte de décès, and letter from m. mondière regarding his place of burial). l'homme, iv, no.  . mai  . pp.  - . with portrait and view of the house he lived in. on p.  , a note referring to a movement to erect a monument to lamarck. giard, alfred.--leçon d'ouverture du cours de l'évolution des êtres organisés. (bull. sc. de la france et de la belgique.) paris, . pp.  . portrait. claus, carl.--lamarck als begründer des descendenzlehre. wien, . vo. pp.  . duval, mathias.--le transformiste français lamarck. (bull. soc. d'anthropologie de paris. tome xii, iiie série.) pp.  - . lamarck.--les maîtres de la science: lamarck. paris, . g. masson, Éditeur. mo. pp.  . hamy, e. t.--les derniers jours du jardin du roi et la fondation du muséum d'histoire naturelle. pp.  . (extrait du volume commémoratif du centenaire de la fondation du muséum d'histoire naturelle.) paris,  juin . folio. pp.  . paris, . osborn, h. f.--from the greeks to darwin. an outline of the development of the evolution idea. new york. . vo. pp.  . houssay, frédéric.--lamarck, son oeuvre et son esprit. revue encyclopédique. année . pp.  - . paris, librairie larousse. hermanville, f. j. f.--notice biographique sur lamarck. sa vie et ses oeuvres. beauvais, . vo. pp.  . portrait, after thorel-perrin. packard, a. s.--lamarck, and neo-lamarckism. (the open court. feb., .) chicago, . pp.  - . packard, a. s.--lamarck's views on the evolution of man, on morals, and on the relation of science to religion. the monist, chicago, oct., . chapters xviii and xix of the present work. index adaptation, , , , . Ærobates, . ai, . amphibia, . ant-eater, , . antlers, origin of, . ant-lion, . appetence, doctrine of, , , , , . aspalax, . atrophy, , , , , , , , , . audouin j. v., . barus, c., estimate of lamarck's work in physics, . batrachia, . battle, law of, , . beaver, . besoins, , , , , , , , , , , , . bird, humming, . birds, domestic, atrophy in, ; origin of, ; origin of swimming, , ; perching, , ; shore, , . blainville, h. d. de, , , . blumenbach, . bolton, h. c., . bonnet, c., ideas on evolution, ; germs, . bosc, l. a. g., . bourguin. l. b., , . bradypus tridactylus, . brain, , ; human, . bruguière, j. g., , . buffalo, . buffon, g. l. l., , , ; factors of evolution, , ; views on descent, . bulla, . callosities, origin of, . camelo-pardalis, , . carnivora, ; origin of, . catastrophism, , , , , ; anti-, , , . cave life, , . cetacea, , ; rudimentary teeth of, . chain of being, , , , , , , . changes in environment, ; local, ; slow, . characters, acquired, heredity of, , , , , , . chimpanzee, . chiton, . circumstances, influence of, , , , , , , , , , . clam, origin of siphon of, , . classifications, artificial, . claws of birds, ; carnivora, , . climate, , , , , , , . coal, origin of, , . colonies, animal, . colors, animal, . competition, , . conditions, changes of, , , , , , , , . consciousness, , , . cope, e. d., , . corals, . correlation, law of, , , ; of tertiary beds, . costantin, . creation by evolution, . crossing, swamping effects of, , . crustacea, origin of, . cunningham, j. t., . cuvier, george, , ; eulogy on lamarck, ; first paper, . dall, w. h., estimate of lamarck's work, . darkness, influence of, . darwin, charles, , ; estimate of lamarck's views, ; factors tabulated, ; origin of man, compared with lamarck's, ; views on descent, , . darwin, erasmus, factors of evolution, , , ; life of, . daubenton, , , , . deer, . degeneration, as used by buffon, , ; by geoffroy, ; by lamarck, , , . delboeuf's law, . desiring, , , . digits, modifications of, , , , , , ; reduction of, . direct action of environment, , , , , . disuse, , , , , , , , , , , . dixon, c., . dogs, tailless, ; domestication in, ; races of, , . domestic animals, , . domestication, effects of, , . d'orbigny, a., . duck, , , . duckbill, . earth, great age of, ; revolutions of, , , ; theory of, . earth's interior, . effort, , , , , , , , , , , , . egypt, mummied species of, , . eigenmann, c. h., . eimer, g. h. t., . elephant, . emotion, . encasement theory, , , . environment, , , , . epigenesis, . erosion, . evil, . evolution, dynamic, ; lamarck's views on, . exercise, , . existence, struggle for, , , . extinct species, , , . eyeless animals, , . eyes, ; of flounder, . faujas de st. fond, , . feelings, internal, , , , . fishes, flat, ; form due to medium, ; origin of, . fittest, origin of, . flamingo, . flounder, . flying mammals, origin of, . fossilization, . fossils, , , , , ; deep-sea, ; of paris basin, . frog, . function, change of, . galeopithecus, . gasteropods, , . generation, spontaneous, , , , . geoffroy st. hilaire, e., , , ; factors tabulated, ; life, ; views on descent, ; views on species, . geographical distribution, , . geological time, , , . geology, lamarck's work in, . germs of life, first, , , ; preëxistence of, , , . giard, a., , . giraffe, , , , . goose, , , . granite, origin of, , . guettard, j. e., , , . gulick, j. t., . habits, , , , , , , , , , , , . haeckel, e., ; estimate of lamarck's theory, . hamy, e. t., , , . hearing, . henslow, g., . heredity, , , , , , ; of acquired characters, , , , , , . hertwig, r., . hoofs, origin of, . hooke, robert, . horns, origin of, , , , . horse, , , . hutton, james, . huxley, t. h., , ; estimate of lamarck's scientific position, , . hyatt, a., , . hybridity, . hybrids, . hydrogéologie, . imitation, . indirect action of environment, , . industry, animal, . infusoria, . insects, wingless, . intestines of man, . instinct, , , , , , ; variations in, , , . isolation, , , ; in man, , . jacko, . jardin des plantes, . jeffries, j. a., . jordan, k., . juncus bufonius, . kangaroo, . lacaze-duthiers, h. de, reminiscences of lamarck, . lakanal, j., . lamarck, cornelie de, . lamarck, j. b. de, birth, ; birthplace, ; blindness, ; botanical career, , , ; burial place, ; death, ; estimates of his life-work, ; factors at evolution, , ; founder of palæontology, ; house in paris, ; meteorology and physical science, ; military career, ; origin of man, ; parentage, ; share in reorganization of museum, ; shells, collections of, ; on spontaneous generation, ; style, ; travels, ; views on religion, ; work in geology, ; zoölogical work, , . lamarckism, relations to darwinism, . land, changes of level of, . latreille, p. a., . law of battle, , . laws of evolution, lamarck's, , . legs, atrophy of, , , . lemur volans, . life, ; conditions of, , , , , , , ; definitions of, , , . light, . limbs, atrophy of, , ; genesis of, ; of seal, , ; whale, . lizard, . local changes, . lyell, charles, estimate of lamarck's theory, . mammals, aquatic, ; flying, . man, as a check on animal life, ; origin of, ; origin of language, ; origin of his plantigrade feet, ; posture, , ; relation to apes, ; segregation of, from apes, ; shape of his skull, ; sign-language, ; speech, origin of, ; swamping effects of crossing in, . medium, . milieu, , . mimicry, protective, , , . minerals, growth of, . mole, . molluscs, ; eyeless, ; gasteropod, ; pelecypod, ; lamellibranch, ; lamarck's work on, . monet, de, . monotremes, origin from birds, . morals, . mortillet, g. de, . mountains formed by erosion, , . muscles, adductor, . museum of natural history, paris, . mya arenaria, , . myrmecophaga, . myrmeleon, . nails, . natural selection. inadequacy of, , , , , , , , , . nature, balance of, ; definition of, , , . neck, elongation of, in birds, , , ; giraffe, , ; ostrich, . needs, , , , , , , , , , , , . neodarwinism, . neolamarckism, , , , , . ophidia, atrophy of legs of, , . organic sense, , , . organs, changes in, ; origin of, precedes their use, ; follows their use, , ; atrophy of, , , , , , , , ; new production of, , , . orang-outang, . osborn, h. s., . ostrich, . otter, . ox, . oyster, . palæontology, ; invertebrate, , . pallas, . penchants, , , , . perrier, e., , . petaurista, . philosophy, moral, lamarck's, . phoca vitulina, , . phylogeny, . pigeons, ; fantail, . planorbis, . plants, changes due to cultivation, etc., , , , , , ; cultivated, . population, over-, checks on, , . preformation, , , . propensities, , , , , , . proteus, . pteromys, . ranunculus aquatilis, , . religion and science, . reptiles, . revolutions of the earth, , . rousseau, j. j., , . roux, w., . ruminants, . ryder, j. a., . science and religion, . sciurus volans, . scott, w. b., . sea, former existence of, , , . seal, , . segments, origin of, . segregation, in man, , . selection, mechanical, . semper, c., . series, animal, branching, , , . serpents, origin of, , ; eyes of, . sexual selection, , . shell, bivalve, origin of, ; crustacean, . shells, deep-water, ; fossil, , , , ; lamarckian genera, . simia satyrus, ; troglodytes, . sloth, . snakes, atrophy of legs of, , ; eyes of, ; origin of, , ; tongue of, . sole, . species, buffon's views on, , ; definition of, , , , , ; extinct, ; geoffroy st. hilaire, views on, ; lamarck's views on, ; modification of, ; origin of, , ; stability of, , , ; variation in, . speech, . spencer, herbert, , , , . spermist, . sphalax, . spines, , , . sponges, . squirrel, flying, , . stimulus, external, , , . struggle for existence, , , . surroundings, , ; local, . symmetry, radial, . swan, . tail, of kangaroo, . teeth, ; atrophy of, ; in embryo birds, ; in whales, . temperature, . tentacles of snail, , . tertiary shells, , , . thought, definition of, . time, geological, , , , . toes, modifications of, , , , , , , . tree, genealogical, first, , , , , . trout, . tubercles, origin of, . tunicata, position of, . turbot, . turtle, sea, . uniformitarianism, . use, , , , , , , , , . use-inheritance, , , , , , , . use originates organs, , , . variability, . variation, climatic, , , ; causes of, , . varieties, . varigny, h. de, . vestigial organs, , . vital force, . vitalism, . volucella, . wagner, m., . wallace, a. r., on origin of giraffe's neck, . wants, , , , , , , , , , , , . ward, l. f., . water, diversified condition of, . werner, . whale, , , . will, , , . willing, , , . weismann, a., . wings, atrophy of, in insects, . woodpecker, . the story of my heart an autobiography by richard jefferies chapter i the story of my heart commences seventeen years ago. in the glow of youth there were times every now and then when i felt the necessity of a strong inspiration of soul-thought. my heart was dusty, parched for want of the rain of deep feeling; my mind arid and dry, for there is a dust which settles on the heart as well as that which falls on a ledge. it is injurious to the mind as well as to the body to be always in one place and always surrounded by the same circumstances. a species of thick clothing slowly grows about the mind, the pores are choked, little habits become a part of existence, and by degrees the mind is inclosed in a husk. when this began to form i felt eager to escape from it, to throw off the heavy clothing, to drink deeply once more at the fresh foundations of life. an inspiration--a long deep breath of the pure air of thought--could alone give health to the heart. there is a hill to which i used to resort at such periods. the labour of walking three miles to it, all the while gradually ascending, seemed to clear my blood of the heaviness accumulated at home. on a warm summer day the slow continued rise required continual effort, which caried away the sense of oppression. the familiar everyday scene was soon out of sight; i came to other trees, meadows, and fields; i began to breathe a new air and to have a fresher aspiration. i restrained my soul till reached the sward of the hill; psyche, the soul that longed to be loose. i would write psyche always instead of soul to avoid meanings which have become attached to the word soul, but it is awkward to do so. clumsy indeed are all words the moment the wooden stage of commonplace life is left. i restrained psyche, my soul, till i reached and put my foot on the grass at the beginning of the green hill itself. moving up the sweet short turf, at every step my heart seemed to obtain a wider horizon of feeling; with every inhalation of rich pure air, a deeper desire. the very light of the sun was whiter and more brilliant here. by the time i had reached the summit i had entirely forgotten the petty circumstances and the annoyances of existence. i felt myself, myself. there was an intrenchment on the summit, and going down into the fosse i walked round it slowly to recover breath. on the south-western side there was a spot where the outer bank had partially slipped, leaving a gap. there the view was over a broad plain, beautiful with wheat, and inclosed by a perfect amphitheatre of green hills. through these hills there was one narrow groove, or pass, southwards, where the white clouds seemed to close in the horizon. woods hid the scattered hamlets and farmhouses, so that i was quite alone. i was utterly alone with the sun and the earth. lying down on the grass, i spoke in my soul to the earth, the sun, the air, and the distant sea far beyond sight. i thought of the earth's firmness--i felt it bear me up: through the grassy couch there came an influence as if i could feel the great earth speaking to me. i thought of the wandering air--its pureness, which is its beauty; the air touched me and gave me something of itself. i spoke to the sea: though so far, in my mind i saw it, green at the rim of the earth and blue in deeper ocean; i desired to have its strength, its mystery and glory. then i addressed the sun, desiring the soul equivalent of his light and brilliance, his endurance and unwearied race. i turned to the blue heaven over, gazing into its depth, inhaling its exquisite colour and sweetness. the rich blue of the unattainable flower of the sky drew my soul towards it, and there it rested, i for pure colour is rest of heart. by all these i prayed; i felt an emotion of the soul beyond all definition; prayer is a puny thing to it, and the word is a rude sign to the feeling, but i know no other. by the blue heaven, by the rolling sun bursting through untrodden space, a new ocean of ether every day unveiled. by the fresh and wandering air encompassing the world; by the sea sounding on the shore--the green sea white-flecked at the margin and the deep ocean; by the strong earth under me. then, returning, i prayed by the sweet thyme, whose little flowers i touched with my hand; by the slender grass; by the crumble of dry chalky earth i took up and let fall through my fingers. touching the crumble of earth, the blade of grass, the thyme flower, breathing the earth-encircling air, thinking of the sea and the sky, holding out my hand for the sunbeams to touch it, prone on the sward in token of deep reverence, thus i prayed that i might touch to the unutterable existence infinitely higher than deity. with all the intensity of feeling which exalted me, all the intense communion i held with the earth, the sun and sky, the stars hidden by the light, with the ocean--in no manner can the thrilling depth of these feelings be written--with these i prayed, as if they were the keys of an instrument, of an organ, with which i swelled forth the note of my soul, redoubling my own voice by their power. the great sun burning with light; the strong earth, dear earth; the warm sky; the pure air; the thought of ocean; the inexpressible beauty of all filled me with a rapture, an ecstasy, and inflatus. with this inflatus, too, i prayed. next to myself i came and recalled myself, my bodily existence. i held out my hand, the sunlight gleamed on the skin and the iridescent nails; i recalled the mystery and beauty of the flesh. i thought of the mind with which i could see the ocean sixty miles distant, and gather to myself its glory. i thought of my inner existence, that consciousness which is called the soul. these, that is, myself--i threw into the balance to weight the prayer the heavier. my strength of body, mind and soul, i flung into it; i but forth my strength; i wrestled and laboured, and toiled in might of prayer. the prayer, this soul-emotion was in itself-not for an object-it was a passion. i hid my face in the grass, i was wholly prostrated, i lost myself in the wrestle, i was rapt and carried away. becoming calmer, i returned to myself and thought, reclining in rapt thought, full of aspiration, steeped to the lips of my soul in desire. i did not then define, or analyses, or understand this. i see now that what i laboured for was soul-life, more soul-nature, to be exalted, to be full of soul-learning. finally i rose, walked half a mile or so along the summit of the hill eastwards, to soothe myself and come to the common ways of life again. had any shepherd accidentally seen me lying on the turf, he would only have thought that i was resting a few minutes; i made no outward show. who could have imagined the whirlwind of passion that was going on within me as i reclined there! i was greatly exhausted when i reached home. occasionally i went upon the hill deliberately, deeming it good to do so; then, again, this craving carried me away up there of itself. though the principal feeling was the same, there were variations in the mode in which it affected me. sometimes on lying down on the sward i first looked up at the sky, gazing for a long time till i could see deep into the azure and my eyes were full of the colour; then i turned my face to the grass and thyme, placing my hands at each side of my face so as to shut out everything and hide myself. having drunk deeply of the heaven above and felt the most glorious beauty of the day, and remembering the old, old, sea, which (as it seemed to me) was but just yonder at the edge, i now became lost, and absorbed into the being or existence of the universe. i felt down deep into the earth under, and high above into the sky, and farther still to the sun and stars. still farther beyond the stars into the hollow of space, and losing thus my separateness of being came to seem like a part of the whole. then i whisper-ed to the earth beneath, through the grass and thyme, down into the depth of its ear, and again up to the starry space hid behind the blue of day. travelling in an instant across the distant sea, i saw as if with actual vision the palms and cocoanut trees, the bamboos of india, and the cedars of the extreme south. like a lake with islands the ocean lay before me, as clear and vivid as the plain beneath in the midst of the amphitheatre of hills. with the glory of the great sea, i said, with the firm, solid, and sustaining earth; the depth, distance, and expanse of ether; the age, tamelessness, and ceaseless motion of the ocean; the stars, and the unknown in space; by all those things which are most powerful known to me, and by those which exist, but of which i have no idea whatever, i pray. further, by my own soul, that secret existence which above all other things bears the nearest resemblance to the ideal of spirit, infinitely nearer than earth, sun, or star. speaking by an inclination towards, not in words, my soul prays that i may have something from each of these, that i may gather a flower from them, that i may have in myself the secret and meaning of the earth, the golden sun, the light, the foam-flecked sea. let my soul become enlarged; i am not enough; i am little and contemptible. i desire a great-ness of soul, an irradiance of mind, a deeper insight, a broader hope. give me power of soul, so that i may actually effect by its will that which i strive for. in winter, though i could not then rest on the grass, or stay long enough to form any definite expression, i still went up to the hill once now and then, for it seemed that to merely visit the spot repeated all that i had previously said. but it was not only then. in summer i went out into the fields, and let my soul inspire these thoughts under the trees, standing against the trunk, or looking up through the branches at the sky. if trees could speak, hundreds of them would say that i had had these soul-emotions under them. leaning against the oak's massive trunk, and feeling the rough bark and the lichen at my back, looking southwards over the grassy fields, cowslip-yellow, at the woods on the slope, i thought my desire of deeper soul-life. or under the green firs, looking upwards, the sky was more deeply blue at their tops; then the brake fern was unrolling, the doves cooing, the thickets astir, the late ash-leaves coming forth. under the shapely rounded elms, by the hawthorn bushes and hazel, everywhere the same deep desire for the soul-nature; to have from all green things and from the sunlight the inner meaning which was not known to them, that i might be full of light as the woods of the sun's rays. just to touch the lichened bark of a tree, or the end of a spray projecting over the path as i walked, seemed to repeat the same prayer in me. the long-lived summer days dried and warmed the turf in the meadows. i used to lie down in solitary corners at full length on my back, so as to feel the embrace of the earth. the grass stood high above me, and the shadows of the tree-branches danced on my face. i looked up at the sky, with half-closed eyes to bear the dazzling light. bees buzzed over me, sometimes a butterfly passed, there was a hum in the air, greenfinches sang in the hedge. gradually entering into the intense life of the summer days--a life which burned around as if every grass blade and leaf were a torch--i came to feel the long-drawn life of the earth back into the dimmest past, while the sun of the moment was warm on me. sesostris on the most ancient sands of the south, in ancient, ancient days, was conscious of himself and of the sun. this sunlight linked me through the ages to that past consciousness. from all the ages my soul desired to take that soul-life which had flowed through them as the sunbeams had continually poured on earth. as the hot sands take up the heat, so would i take up that soul-energy. dreamy in appearance, i was breathing full of existence; i was aware of the grass blades, the flowers, the leaves on hawthorn and tree. i seemed to live more largely through them, as if each were a pore through which i drank. the grasshoppers called and leaped, the greenfinches sang, the blackbirds happily fluted, all the air hummed with life. i was plunged deep in existence, and with all that existence i prayed. through every grass blade in the thousand, thousand grasses; through the million leaves, veined and edge-cut, on bush and tree; through the song-notes and the marked feathers of the birds; through the insects' hum and the colour of the butterflies; through the soft warm air, the flecks of clouds dissolving--i used them all for prayer. with all the energy the sunbeams had poured unwearied on the earth since sesostris was conscious of them on the ancient sands; with all the life that had been lived by vigorous man and beauteous woman since first in dearest greece the dream of the gods was woven; with all the soul-life that had flowed a long stream down to me, i prayed that i might have a soul more than equal to, far beyond my conception of, these things of the past, the present, and the fulness of all life. not only equal to these, but beyond, higher, and more powerful than i could imagine. that i might take from all their energy, grandeur, and beauty, and gather it into me. that my soul might be more than the cosmos of life. i prayed with the glowing clouds of sun-set and the soft light of the first star coming through the violet sky. at night with the stars, according to the season: now with the pleiades, now with the swan or burning sirius, and broad orion's whole constellation, red aldebaran, arcturus, and the northern crown; with the morning star, the light-bringer, once now and then when i saw it, a white-gold ball in the violet-purple sky, or framed about with pale summer vapour floating away as red streaks shot horizontally in the east. a diffused saffron ascended into the luminous upper azure. the disk of the sun rose over the hill, fluctuating with throbs of light; his chest heaved in fervour of brilliance. all the glory of the sunrise filled me with broader and furnace-like vehemence of prayer. that i might have the deepest of soul-life, the deepest of all, deeper far than all this greatness of the visible universe and even of the invisible; that i might have a fulness of soul till now unknown, and utterly beyond my own conception. in the deepest darkness of the night the same thought rose in my mind as in the bright light of noontide. what is there which i have not used to strengthen the same emotion? chapter ii sometimes i went to a deep, narrow valley in the hills, silent and solitary. the sky crossed from side to side, like a roof supported on two walls of green. sparrows chirped in the wheat at the verge above, their calls falling like the twittering of swallows from the air. there was no other sound. the short grass was dried grey as it grew by the heat; the sun hung over the narrow vale as if it had been put there by hand. burning, burning, the sun glowed on the sward at the foot of the slope where these thoughts burned into me. how many, many years, how many cycles of years, how many bundles of cycles of years, had the sun glowed down thus on that hollow? since it was formed how long? since it was worn and shaped, groove-like, in the flanks of the hills by mighty forces which had ebbed. alone with the sun which glowed on the work when it was done, i saw back through space to the old time of tree-ferns, of the lizard flying through the air, the lizard-dragon wallowing in sea foam, the mountainous creatures, twice-elephantine, feeding on land; all the crooked sequence of life. the dragon-fly which passed me traced a continuous descent from the fly marked on stone in those days. the immense time lifted me like a wave rolling under a boat; my mind seemed to raise itself as the swell of the cycles came; it felt strong with the power of the ages. with all that time and power i prayed: that i might have in my soul the intellectual part of it; the idea, the thought. like a shuttle the mind shot to and fro the past and the present, in an instant. full to the brim of the wondrous past, i felt the wondrous present. for the day--the very moment i breathed, that second of time then in the valley, was as marvellous, as grand, as all that had gone before. now, this moment was the wonder and the glory. now, this moment was exceedingly wonderful. now, this moment give me all the thought, all the idea, ali the soul expressed in the cosmos around me. give me still more, for the interminable universe, past and present, is but earth; give me the unknown soul, wholly apart from it, the soul of which i know only that when i touch the ground, when the sunlight touches my hand, it is not there. therefore the heart looks into space to be away from earth. with all the cycles, and the sunlight streaming through them, with all that is meant by the present, i thought in the deep vale and prayed. there was a secluded spring to which i sometimes went to drink the pure water, lifting it in the hollow of my hand. drinking the lucid water, clear as light itself in solution, i absorbed the beauty and purity of it. i drank the thought of the element; i desired soul-nature pure and limpid. when i saw the sparkling dew on the grass--a rainbow broken into drops--it called up the same thought-prayer. the stormy wind whose sudden twists laid the trees on the ground woke the same feeling; my heart shouted with it. the soft summer air which entered when i opened my window in the morning breathed the same sweet desire. at night, before sleeping, i always looked out at the shadowy trees, the hills looming indistinctly in the dark, a star seen between the drifting clouds; prayer of soul-life always. i chose the highest room, bare and gaunt, because as i sat at work i could look out and see more of the wide earth, more of the dome of the sky, and could think my desire through these. when the crescent of the new moon shone, all the old thoughts were renewed. all the succeeding incidents of the year repeated my prayer as i noted them. the first green leaf on the hawthorn, the first spike of meadow grass, the first song of the nightingale, the green ear of wheat. i spoke it with the ear of wheat as the sun tinted it golden; with the whitening barley; again with the red gold spots of autumn on the beech, the buff oak leaves, and the gossamer dew-weighted. all the larks over the green corn sang it for me, all the dear swallows; the green leaves rustled it; the green brook flags waved it; the swallows took it with them to repeat it for me in distant lands. by the running brook i meditated it; a flash of sunlight here in the curve, a flicker yonder on the ripples, the birds bathing in the sandy shallow, the rush of falling water. as the brook ran winding through the meadow, so one thought ran winding through my days. the sciences i studied never checked it for a moment; nor did the books of old philosophy. the sun was stronger than science; the hills more than philosophy. twice circumstances gave me a brief view of the sea then the passion rose tumultuous as the waves. it was very bitter to me to leave the sea. sometimes i spent the whole day walking over the hills searching for it; as if the labour of walking would force it from the ground. i remained in the woods for hours, among the ash sprays and the fluttering of the ring-doves at their nests, the scent of pines here and there, dreaming my prayer. my work was most uncongenial and useless, but even then sometimes a gleam of sunlight on the wall, the buzz of a bee at the window, would bring the thought to me. only to make me miserable, for it was a waste of golden time while the rich sunlight streamed on hill and plain. there was a wrenching of the mind, a straining of the mental sinews; i was forced to do this, my mind was yonder. weariness, exhaustion, nerve-illness often ensued. the insults which are showered on poverty, long struggle of labour, the heavy pressure of circumstances, the unhappiness, only stayed the expression of the feeling. it was always there. often in the streets of london, as the red sunset flamed over the houses, the old thought, the old prayer, came. not only in grassy fields with green leaf and running brook did this constant desire find renewal. more deeply still with living human beauty; the perfection of form, the simple fact of form, ravished and always will ravish me away. in this lies the outcome and end of all the loveliness of sunshine and green leaf, of flowers, pure water, and sweet air. this is embodiment and highest ex-pression; the scattered, uncertain, and designless loveliness of tree and sunlight brought to shape. through this beauty i prayed deepest and longest, and down to this hour. the shape--the divine idea of that shape--the swelling muscle or the dreamy limb, strong sinew or curve of bust, aphrodite or hercules, it is the same. that i may have the soul-life, the soul-nature, let divine beauty bring to me divine soul. swart nubian, white greek, delicate italian, massive scandinavian, in all the exquisite pleasure the form gave, and gives, to me immediately becomes intense prayer. if i could have been in physical shape like these, how despicable in comparison i am; to be shapely of form is so infinitely beyond wealth, power, fame, all that ambition can give, that these are dust before it. unless of the human form, no pictures hold me; the rest are flat surfaces. so, too, with the other arts, they are dead; the potters, the architects, meaningless, stony, and some repellent, like the cold touch of porcelain. no prayer with these. only the human form in art could raise it, and most in statuary. i have seen so little good statuary, it is a regret to me; still, that i have is beyond all other art. fragments here, a bust yonder, the broken pieces brought from greece, copies, plaster casts, a memory of an aphrodite, of a persephone, of an apollo, that is all; but even drawings of statuary will raise the prayer. these statues were like myself full of a thought, for ever about to burst forth as a bud, yet silent in the same attitude. give me to live the soul-life they express. the smallest fragment of marble carved in the shape of the human arm will wake the desire i felt in my hill-prayer. time went on; good fortune and success never for an instant deceived me that they were in themselves to be sought; only my soul-thought was worthy. further years bringing much suffering, grinding the very life out; new troubles, renewed insults, loss of what hard labour had earned, the bitter question: is it not better to leap into the sea? these, too, have made no impression; constant still to the former prayer my mind endures. it was my chief regret that i had not endeavoured to write these things, to give expression to this passion. i am now trying, but i see that i shall only in part succeed. the same prayer comes to me at this very hour. it is now less solely associated with the sun and sea, hills, woods, or beauteous human shape. it is always within. it requires no waking; no renewal; it is always with me. i am it; the fact of my existence expresses it. after a long interval i came to the hills again, this time by the coast. i found a deep hollow on the side of a great hill, a green concave opening to the sea, where i could rest and think in perfect quiet. behind me were furze bushes dried by the heat; immediately in front dropped the steep descent of the bowl-like hollow which received and brought up to me the faint sound of the summer waves. yonder lay the immense plain of sea, the palest green under the continued sunshine, as though the heat had evaporated the colour from it; there was no distinct horizon, a heat-mist inclosed it and looked farther away than the horizon would have done. silence and sunshine, sea and hill gradually brought my mind into the condition of intense prayer. day after day, for hours at a time, i came there, my soul-desire always the same. presently i began to consider how i could put a part of that prayer into form, giving it an object. could i bring it into such a shape as would admit of actually working upon the lines it indicated for any good? one evening, when the bright white star in lyra was shining almost at the zenith over me, and the deep concave was the more profound in the dusk, i formulated it into three divisions. first, i desired that i might do or find something to exalt the soul, something to enable it to live its own life, a more powerful existence now. secondly, i desired to be able to do something for the flesh, to make a discovery or perfect a method by which the fleshly body might enjoy more pleasure, longer life, and suffer less pain. thirdly, to construct a more flexible engine with which to carry into execution the design of the will. i called this the lyra prayer, to distinguish it from the far deeper emotion in which the soul was alone concerned. of the three divisions, the last was of so little importance that it scarcely deserved to be named in conjunction with the others. mechanism increases convenience--in no degree does it confer physical or moral perfection. the rudimentary engines employed thousands of years ago in raising buildings were in that respect equal to the complicated machines of the present day. control of iron and steel has not altered or improved the bodily man. i even debated some time whether such a third division should be included at all. our bodies are now conveyed all round the world with ease, but obtain no advantage. as they start so they return. the most perfect human families of ancient times were almost stationary, as those of greece. perfection of form was found in sparta; how small a spot compared to those continents over which we are now taken so quickly! such perfection of form might perhaps again dwell, contented and complete in itself, on such a strip of land as i could see between me and the sand of the sea. again, a watch keeping correct time is no guarantee that the bearer shall not suffer pain. the owner of the watch may be soulless, without mind-fire, a mere creature. no benefit to the heart or to the body accrues from the most accurate mechanism. hence i debated whether the third division should be included. but i reflected that time cannot be put back on the dial, we cannot return to sparta; there is an existent state of things, and existent multitudes; and possibly a more powerful engine, flexible to the will, might give them that freedom which is the one, and the one only, political or social idea i possess. for liberty, therefore, let it be included. for the flesh, this arm of mine, the limbs of others gracefully moving, let me find something that will give them greater perfection. that the bones may be firmer, somewhat larger if that would be an advantage, certainly stronger, that the cartilage and sinews may be more enduring, and the muscles more powerful, something after the manner of those ideal limbs and muscles sculptured of old, these in the flesh and real. that the organs of the body may be stronger in their action, perfect, and lasting. that the exterior flesh may be yet more beautiful; that the shape may be finer, and the motions graceful. these are the soberest words i can find, purposely chosen; for i am so rapt in the beauty of the human form, and so earnestly, so inexpressibly, prayerful to see that form perfect, that my full thought is not to be written. unable to express it fully, i have considered it best to put it in the simplest manner of words. i believe in the human form; let me find something, some method, by which that form may achieve the utmost beauty. its beauty is like an arrow, which may be shot any distance according to the strength of the bow. so the idea expressed in the human shape is capable of indefinite expansion and elevation of beauty. of the mind, the inner consciousness, the soul, my prayer desired that i might discover a mode of life for it, so that it might not only conceive of such a life, but actually enjoy it on the earth. i wished to search out a new and higher set of ideas on which the mind should work. the simile of a new book of the soul is the nearest to convey the meaning--a book drawn from the present and future, not the past. instead of a set of ideas based on tradition, let me give the mind a new thought drawn straight from the wondrous present, direct this very hour. next, to furnish the soul with the means of executing its will, of carrying thought into action. in other words, for the soul to become a power. these three formed the lyra prayer, of which the two first are immeasurably the in more important. i believe in the human being, mind and flesh; form and soul. it happened just afterwards that i went to pevensey, and immediately the ancient wall swept my mind back seventeen hundred years to the eagle, the pilum, and the short sword. the grey stones, the thin red bricks laid by those whose eyes had seen caesar's rome, lifted me out of the grasp of house-life, of modern civilisation, of those minutiae which occupy the moment. the grey stone made me feel as if i had existed from then till now, so strongly did i enter into and see my own life as if reflected. my own existence was focused back on me; i saw its joy, its unhappiness, its birth, its death, its possibilities among the infinite, above all its yearning question. why? seeing it thus clearly, and lifted out of the moment by the force of seventeen centuries, i recognised the full mystery and the depths of things in the roots of the dry grass on the wall, in the green sea flowing near. is there anything i can do? the mystery and the possibilities are not in the roots of the grass, nor is the depth of things in the sea; they are in my existence, in my soul. the marvel of existence, almost the terror of it, was flung on me with crushing force by the sea, the sun shining, the distant hills. with all their ponderous weight they made me feel myself: all the time, all the centuries made me feel myself this moment a hundred-fold. i determined that i would endeavour to write what i had so long thought of, and the same evening put down one sentence. there the sentence remained two years. i tried to carry it on; i hesitated because i could not express it: nor can i now, though in desperation i am throwing these rude stones of thought together, rude as those of the ancient wall. chapter iii there were grass-grown tumuli on the hills to which of old i used to walk, sit down at the foot of one of them, and think. some warrior had been interred there in the antehistoric times. the sun of the summer morning shone on the dome of sward, and the air came softly up from the wheat below, the tips of the grasses swayed as it passed sighing faintly, it ceased, and the bees hummed by to the thyme and heathbells. i became absorbed in the glory of the day, the sunshine, the sweet air, the yellowing corn turning from its sappy green to summer's noon of gold, the lark's song like a waterfall in the sky. i felt at that moment that i was like the spirit of the man whose body was interred in the tumulus; i could understand and feel his existence the same as my own. he was as real to me two thousand years after interment as those i had seen in the body. the abstract personality of the dead seemed as existent as thought. as my thought could slip back the twenty centuries in a moment to the forest-days when he hurled the spear, or shot with the bow, hunting the deer, and could return again as swiftly to this moment, so his spirit could endure from then till now, and the time was nothing. two thousand years being a second to the soul could not cause its extinction. it was no longer to the soul than my thought occupied to me. recognising my own inner consciousness, the psyche, so clearly, death did not seem to me to affect the personality. in dissolution there was no bridgeless chasm, no unfathomable gulf of separation; the spirit did not immediately become inaccessible, leaping at a bound to an immeasurable distance. look at another person while living; the soul is not visible, only the body which it animates. therefore, merely because after death the soul is not visible is no demonstration that it does not still live. the condition of being unseen is the same condition which occurs while the body is living, so that intrinsically there is nothing exceptionable, or supernatural, in the life of the soul after death. resting by the tumulus, the spirit of the man who had been interred there was to me really alive, and very close. this was quite natural, as natural and simple as the grass waving in the wind, the bees humming, and the larks' songs. only by the strongest effort of the mind could i understand the idea of extinction; that was supernatural, requiring a miracle; the immortality of the soul natural, like earth. listening to the sighing of the grass i felt immortality as i felt the beauty of the summer morning, and i thought beyond immortality, of other conditions, more beautiful than existence, higher than immortality. that there is no knowing, in the sense of written reasons, whether the soul lives on or not, i am fully aware. i do not hope or fear. at least while i am living i have enjoyed the idea of immortality, and the idea of my own soul. if then, after death, i am resolved without exception into earth, air, and water, and the spirit goes out like a flame, still i shall have had the glory of that thought. it happened once that a man was drowned while bathing, and his body was placed in an outhouse near the garden. i passed the outhouse continually, sometimes on purpose to think about it, and it always seemed to me that the man was still living. separation is not to be comprehended; the spirit of the man did not appear to have gone to an in conceivable distance. as my thought flashes itself back through the centuries to the luxury of canopus, and can see the gilded couches of a city extinct, so it slips through the future, and immeasurable time in front is no boundary to it. certainly the man was not dead to me. sweetly the summer air came up to the tumulus, the grass sighed softly, the butterflies went by, sometimes alighting on the green dome. two thousand years! summer after summer the blue butterflies had visited the mound, the thyme had flowered, the wind sighed in the grass. the azure morning had spread its arms over the low tomb; and full glowing noon burned on it; the purple of sunset rosied the sward. stars, ruddy in the vapour of the southern horizon, beamed at midnight through the mystic summer night, which is dusky and yet full of light. white mists swept up and hid it; dews rested on the turf; tender harebells drooped; the wings of the finches fanned the air--finches whose colours faded from the wings how many centuries ago! brown autumn dwelt in the woods beneath; the rime of winter whitened the beech clump on the ridge; again the buds came on the wind-blown hawthorn bushes, and in the evening the broad constellation of orion covered the east. two thousand times! two thousand times the woods grew green, and ring-doves built their nests. day and night for two thousand years--light and shadow sweeping over the mound--two thousand years of labour by day and slumber by night. mystery gleaming in the stars, pouring down in the sunshine, speaking in the night, the wonder of the sun and of far space, for twenty centuries round about this low and green-grown dome. yet all that mystery and wonder is as nothing to the thought that lies therein, to the spirit that i feel so close. realising that spirit, recognising my own inner consciousness, the psyche, so clearly, i cannot understand time. it is eternity now. i am in the midst of it. it is about me in the sunshine; i am in it, as the butterfly floats in the light-laden air. nothing has to come; it is now. now is eternity; now is the immortal life. here this moment, by this tumulus, on earth, now; i exist in it. the years, the centuries, the cycles are absolutely nothing; it is only a moment since this tumulus was raised; in a thousand years it will still be only a moment. to the soul there is no past and no future; all is and will be ever, in now. for artificial purposes time is mutually agreed on, but is really no such thing. the shadow goes on upon the dial, the index moves round upon the clock, and what is the difference? none whatever. if the clock had never been set going, what would have been the difference? there may be time for the clock, the clock may make time for itself; there is none for me. i dip my hand in the brook and feel the stream; in an instant the particles of water which first touched me have floated yards down the current, my hand remains there. i take my hand away, and the flow--the time--of the brook does not exist to me. the great clock of the firmament, the sun and the stars, the crescent moon, the earth circling two thousand times, is no more to me than the flow of the brook when my hand is withdrawn; my soul has never been, and never can be, dipped in time. time has never existed, and never will; it is a purely artificial arrangement. it is eternity now, it always was eternity, and always will be. by no possible means could i get into time if i tried. i am in eternity now and must there remain. haste not, be at rest, this now is eternity. because the idea of time has left my mind--if ever it had any hold on it--to me the man interred in the tumulus is living now as i live. we are both in eternity. there is no separation-no past; eternity, the now, is continuous. when all the stars have revolved they only produce now again. the continuity of now is for ever. so that it appears to me purely natural, and not super natural, that the soul whose temporary frame was interred in this mound should be existing as i sit on the sward. how infinitely deeper is thought than the million miles of the firmament! the wonder is here, not there; now, not to be, now always. things that have been miscalled supernatural appear to me simple, more natural than nature, than earth, than sea, or sun. it is beyond telling more natural that i should have a soul than not, that there should be immortality; i think there is much more than immortality. it is matter which is the supernatural, and difficult of under-standing. why this clod of earth i hold in my hand? why this water which drops sparkling from my fingers dipped in the brook? why are they at all? when? how? what for? matter is beyond understanding, mysterious, impenetrable; i touch it easily, comprehend it, no. soul, mind--the thought, the idea--is easily understood, it understands itself and is conscious. the supernatural miscalled, the natural in truth, is the real. to me everything is supernatural. how strange that condition of mind which cannot accept anything but the earth, the sea, the tangible universe! without the misnamed supernatural these to me seem incomplete, unfinished. without soul all these are dead. except when i walk by the sea, and my soul is by it, the sea is dead. those seas by which no man has stood--which no soul has been--whether on earth or the planets, are dead. no matter how majestic the planet rolls in space, unless a soul be there it is dead. as i move about in the sunshine i feel in the midst of the supernatural: in the midst of immortal things. it is impossible to wrest the mind down to the same laws that rule pieces of timber, water, or earth. they do not control the soul, however rigidly they may bind matter. so full am i always of a sense of the immortality now at this moment round about me, that it would not surprise me in the least if a circumstance outside physical experience occurred. it would seem to me quite natural. give the soul the power it conceives, and there would be nothing wonderful in it. i can see nothing astonishing in what are called miracles. only those who are mesmerised by matter can find a difficulty in such events. i am aware that the evidence for miracles is logically and historically untrustworthy; i am not defending recorded miracles. my point is that in principle i see no reason at all why they should not take place this day. i do not even say that there are or ever have been miracles, but i maintain that they would be perfectly natural. the wonder rather is that they do not happen frequently. consider the limitless conceptions of the soul: let it possess but the power to realise those conceptions for one hour, and how little, how trifling would be the helping of the injured or the sick to regain health and happiness--merely to think it. a soul-work would require but a thought. soul-work is an expression better suited to my meaning than "miracle," a term like others into which a special sense has been infused. when i consider that i dwell this moment in the eternal now that has ever been and will be, that i am in the midst of immortal things this moment, that there probably are souls as infinitely superior to mine as mine to a piece of timber, what then, pray, is a "miracle"? as commonly understood, a "miracle" is a mere nothing. i can conceive soul-works done by simple will or thought a thousand times greater. i marvel that they do not happen this moment. the air, the sunlight, the night, all that surrounds me seems crowded with inexpressible powers, with the influence of souls, or existences, so that i walk in the midst of immortal things. i myself am a living witness of it. sometimes i have concentrated myself, and driven away by continued will all sense of outward appearances, looking straight with the full power of my mind inwards on myself. i find "i" am there; an "i" i do not wholly understand, or know--something is there distinct from earth and timber, from flesh and bones. recognising it, i feel on the margin of a life unknown, very near, almost touching it: on the verge of powers which if i could grasp would give me an immense breadth of existence, an ability to execute what i now only conceive; most probably of far more than that. to see that "i" is to know that i am surrounded with immortal things. if, when i die, that "i" also dies, and becomes extinct, still even then i have had the exaltation of these ideas. how many words it has taken to describe so briefly the feelings and the thoughts that came to me by the tumulus; thoughts that swept past and were gone, and were succeeded by others while yet the shadow of the mound had not moved from one thyme flower to another, not the breadth of a grass blade. softly breathed the sweet south wind, gently the yellow corn waved beneath; the ancient, ancient sun shone on the fresh grass and the flower, my heart opened wide as the broad, broad earth. i spread my arms out, laying them on the sward, seizing the grass, to take the fulness of the days. could i have my own way after death i would be burned on a pyre of pine-wood, open to the air, and placed on the summit of the hills. then let my ashes be scattered abroad--not collected urn an urn--freely sown wide and broadcast. that is the natural interment of man--of man whose thought at least has been among the immortals; interment in the elements. burial is not enough, it does not give sufficient solution into the elements speedily; a furnace is confined. the high open air of the topmost hill, there let the tawny flame lick up the fragment called the body; there cast the ashes into the space it longed for while living. such a luxury of interment is only for the wealthy; i fear i shall not be able to afford it. else the smoke of my resolution into the elements should certainly arise in time on the hill-top. the silky grass sighs as the wind comes carrying the blue butterfly more rapidly than his wings. a large humble-bee burrs round the green dome against which i rest; my hands are scented with thyme. the sweetness of the day, the fulness of the earth, the beauteous earth, how shall i say it? three things only have been discovered of that which concerns the inner consciousness since before written history began. three things only in twelve thousand written, or sculptured, years, and in the dumb, dim time before then. three ideas the cavemen primeval wrested from the unknown, the night which is round us still in daylight--the existence of the soul, immortality, the deity. these things found, prayer followed as a sequential result. since then nothing further has been found in all the twelve thousand years, as if men had been satisfied and had found these to suffice. they do not suffice me. i desire to advance further, and to wrest a fourth, and even still more than a fourth, from the darkness of thought. i want more ideas of soul-life. i am certain that there are more yet to be found. a great life--an entire civilisation--lies just outside the pale of common thought. cities and countries, inhabitants, intelligences, culture--an entire civilisation. except by illustrations drawn from familiar things, there is no way of indicating a new idea. i do not mean actual cities, actual civilisation. such life is different from any yet imagined. a nexus of ideas exists of which nothing is known--a vast system of ideas--a cosmos of thought. there is an entity, a soul-entity, as yet unrecognised. these, rudely expressed, constitute my fourth idea. it is beyond, or beside, the three discovered by the cavemen; it is in addition to the existence of the soul; in addition to immortality; and beyond the idea of the deity. i think there is something more than existence. there is an immense ocean over which the mind can sail, upon which the vessel of thought has not yet been launched. i hope to launch it. the mind of so many thousand years has worked round and round inside the circle of these three ideas as a boat on an inland lake. let us haul it over the belt of land, launch on the ocean, and sail outwards. there is so much beyond all that has ever yet been imagined. as i write these words, in the very moment, i feel that the whole air, the sunshine out yonder lighting up the ploughed earth, the distant sky, the circumambient ether, and that far space, is full of soul-secrets, soul-life, things outside the experience of all the ages. the fact of my own existence as i write, as i exist at this second, is so marvellous, so miracle-like, strange, and supernatural to me, that i unhesitatingly conclude i am always on the margin of life illimitable, and that there are higher conditions than existence. everything around is supernatural; everything so full of unexplained meaning. twelve thousand years since the caveman stood at the mouth of his cavern and gazed out at the night and the stars. he looked again and saw the sun rise beyond the sea. he reposed in the noontide heat under the shade of the trees, he closed his eyes and looked into himself. he was face to face with the earth, the sun, the night; face to face with himself. there was nothing between; no wall of written tradition; no built up system of culture--his naked mind was confronted by naked earth. he made three idea-discoveries, wresting them from the unknown; the existence of his soul, immortality, the deity. now, to-day, as i write, i stand in exactly the same position as the caveman. written tradition, systems of culture, modes of thought, have for me no existence. if ever they took any hold of my mind it must have been very slight; they have long ago been erased. from earth and sea and sun, from night, the stars, from day, the trees, the hills, from my own soul--from these i think. i stand this moment at the mouth of the ancient cave, face to face with nature, face to face with the supernatural, with myself. my naked mind confronts the unknown. i see as clearly as the noonday that this is not all; i see other and higher conditions than existence; i see not only the existence of the soul, immortality, but, in addition, i realise a soul-life illimitable; i realise the existence of a cosmos of thought; i realise the existence of an inexpressible entity infinitely higher than deity. i strive to give utterance to a fourth idea. the very idea that there is another idea is something gained. the three found by the cavemen are but stepping-stones: first links of an endless chain. at the mouth of the ancient cave, face to face with the unknown, they prayed. prone in heart to-day i pray, give me the deepest soul-life. chapter iv the wind sighs through the grass, sighs in the sunshine; it has drifted the butterfly eastwards along the hill. a few yards away there lies the skull of a lamb on the turf, white and bleached, picked clean long since by crows and ants. like the faint ripple of the summer sea sounding in the hollow of the ear, so the sweet air ripples in the grass. the ashes of the man interred in the tumulus are indistinguishable; they have sunk away like rain into the earth; so his body has disappeared. i am under no delusion; i am fully aware that no demonstration can be given of the three stepping-stones of the cavemen. the soul is inscrutable; it is not in evidence to show that it exists; immortality is not tangible. full well i know that reason and knowledge and experience tend to disprove all three; that experience denies answer to prayer. i am under no delusion whatever; i grasp death firmly in conception as i can grasp this bleached bone; utter extinction, annihilation. that the soul is a product at best of organic composition; that it goes out like a flame. this may be the end; my soul may sink like rain into the earth and disappear. wind and earth, sea, and night and day, what then? let my soul be but a product, what then? i say it is nothing to me; this only i know, that while i have lived--now, this moment, while i live--i think immortality, i lift my mind to a fourth idea. if i pass into utter oblivion, yet i have had that. the original three ideas of the cavemen became encumbered with superstition; ritual grew up, and ceremony, and long ranks of souls were painted on papyri waiting to be weighed in the scales, and to be punished or rewarded. these cobwebs grotesque have sullied the original discoveries and cast them into discredit. erase them altogether, and consider only the underlying principles. the principles do not go far enough, but i shall not discard all of them for that. even supposing the pure principles to be illusions, and annihilation the end, even then it is better--it is something gained to have thought them. thought is life; to have thought them is to have lived them. accepting two of them as true in principle, then i say that these are but the threshold. for twelve thousand years no effort has been made to get beyond that threshold. these are but the primer of soul-life; the merest hieroglyphics chipped out, a little shape given to the unknown. not to-morrow but to-day. not the to-morrow of the tumulus, the hour of the sunshine now. this moment give me to live soul-life, not only after death. now is eternity, now i am in the midst of immortality; now the supernatural crowds around me. open my mind, give my soul to see, let me live it now on earth, while i hear the burring of the larger bees, the sweet air in the grass, and watch the yellow wheat wave beneath me. sun and earth and sea, night and day--these are the least of things. give me soul-life. there is nothing human in nature. the earth, though loved so dearly, would let me perish on the ground, and neither bring forth food nor water. burning in the sky the great sun, of whose company i have been so fond, would merely burn on and make no motion to assist me. those who have been in an open boat at sea without water have proved the mercies of the sun, and of the deity who did not give them one drop of rain, dying in misery under the same rays that smile so beautifully on the flowers. in the south the sun is the enemy; night and coolness and rain are the friends of man. as for the sea, it offers us salt water which we cannot drink. the trees care nothing for us; the hill i visited so often in days gone by has not missed me. the sun scorches man, and willing his naked state roast him alive. the sea and the fresh water alike make no effort to uphold him if his vessel founders; he casts up his arms in vain, they come to their level over his head, filling the spot his body occupied. if he falls from a cliff the air parts; the earth beneath dashes him to pieces. water he can drink, but it is not produced for him; how many thousands have perished for want of it? some fruits are produced which he can eat, but they do not produce themselves for him; merely for the purpose of continuing their species. in wild, tropical countries, at the first glance there appears to be some consideration for him, but it is on the surface only. the lion pounces on him, the rhinoceros crushes him, the serpent bites, insects torture, diseases rack him. disease worked its dreary will even among the flower-crowned polynesians. returning to our own country, this very thyme which scents my fingers did not grow for that purpose, but for its own. so does the wheat beneath; we utilise it, but its original and native purpose was for itself. by night it is the same as by day; the stars care not, they pursue their courses revolving, and we are nothing to them. there is nothing human in the whole round of nature. all nature, all the universe that we can see, is absolutely indifferent to us, and except to us human life is of no more value than grass. if the entire human race perished at this hour, what difference would it make to the earth? what would the earth care? as much as for the extinct dodo, or for the fate of the elephant now going. on the contrary, a great part, perhaps the whole, of nature and of the universe is distinctly anti-human. the term inhuman does not express my meaning, anti-human is better; outre-human, in the sense of beyond, outside, almost grotesque in its attitude towards, would nearly convey it. everything is anti-human. how extraordinary, strange, and incomprehensible are the creatures captured out of the depths of the sea! the distorted fishes; the ghastly cuttles; the hideous eel-like shapes; the crawling shell-encrusted things; the centipede-like beings; monstrous forms, to see which gives a shock to the brain. they shock the mind because they exhibit an absence of design. there is no idea in them. they have no shape, form, grace, or purpose; they call up a vague sense of chaos, chaos which the mind revolts from. it would be a relief to the thought if they ceased to be, and utterly disappeared from the sea. they are not inimical of intent towards man, not even the shark; but there the shark is, and that is enough. these miserably hideous things of the sea are not anti-human in the sense of persecution, they are outside, they are ultra and beyond. it is like looking into chaos, and it is vivid because these creatures, interred alive a hundred fathoms deep, are seldom seen; so that the mind sees them as if only that moment they had come into existence. use has not habituated it to them, so that their anti-human character is at once apparent, and stares at us with glassy eye. but it is the same in reality with the creatures on the earth. there are some of these even now to which use has not accustomed the mind. such, for instance, as the toad. at its shapeless shape appearing in an unexpected corner many people start and exclaim. they are aware that they shall receive no injury from it, yet it affrights them, it sends a shock to the mind. the reason lies in its obviously anti-human character. all the designless, formless chaos of chance-directed matter, without idea or human plan, squats there embodied in the pathway. by watching the creature, and convincing the mind from observation that it is harmless, and even has uses, the horror wears away. but still remains the form to which the mind can never reconcile itself. carved in wood it is still repellent. or suddenly there is a rustle like a faint hiss in the grass, and a green snake glides over the bank. the breath in the chest seems to lose its vitality; for an instant the nerves refuse to transmit the force of life. the gliding yellow-streaked worm is so utterly opposed to the ever present idea in the mind. custom may reduce the horror, but no long pondering can ever bring that creature within the pale of the human idea. these are so distinctly opposite and anti-human that thousands of years have not sufficed to soften their outline. various insects and creeping creatures excite the same sense in lesser degrees. animals and birds in general do not. the tiger is dreaded, but causes no disgust. the exception is in those that feed on offal. horses and dogs we love; we not only do not recognise anything opposite in them, we come to love them. they are useful to us, they show more or less sympathy with us, they possess, especially the horse, a certain grace of movement. a gloss, as it were, is thrown over them by these attributes and by familiarity. the shape of the horse to the eye has become conventional: it is accepted. yet the horse is not in any sense human. could we look at it suddenly, without previous acquaintance, as at strange fishes in a tank, the ultra-human character of the horse would be apparent. it is the curves of the neck and body that carry the horse past without adverse comment. examine the hind legs in detail, and the curious backward motion, the shape and anti-human curves become apparent. dogs take us by their intelligence, but they have no hand; pass the hand over the dog's head, and the shape of the skull to the sense of feeling is almost as repellent as the form of the toad to the sense of sight. we have gradually gathered around us all the creatures that are less markedly anti-human, horses and dogs and birds, but they are still themselves. they originally existed like the wheat, for themselves; we utilise them, but they are not of us. there is nothing human in any living animal. all nature, the universe as far as we see, is anti- or ultra-human, outside, and has no concern with man. these things are unnatural to him. by no course of reasoning, however tortuous, can nature and the universe be fitted to the mind. nor can the mind be fitted to the cosmos. my mind cannot be twisted to it; i am separate altogether from these designless things. the soul cannot be wrested down to them. the laws of nature are of no importance to it. i refuse to be bound by the laws of the tides, nor am i so bound. though bodily swung round on this rotating globe, my mind always remains in the centre. no tidal law, no rotation, no gravitation can control my thought. centuries of thought have failed to reconcile and fit the mind to the universe, which is designless, and purposeless, and without idea. i will not endeavour to fit my thought to it any longer; i find and believe myself to be distinct--separate; and i will labour in earnest to obtain the highest culture for myself. as these natural things have no connection with man, it follows again that the natural is the strange and mysterious, and the supernatural the natural. there being nothing human in nature or the universe, and all things being ultra-human and without design, shape, or purpose, i conclude that, no deity has anything to do with nature. there is no god in nature, nor in any matter anywhere, either in the clods on the earth or in the composition of the stars. for what we understand by the deity is the purest form of idea, of mind, and no mind is exhibited in these. that which controls them is distinct altogether from deity. it is not force in the sense of electricity, nor a deity as god, nor a spirit, not even an intelligence, but a power quite different to anything yet imagined. i cease, therefore, to look for deity in nature or the cosmos at large, or to trace any marks of divine handiwork. i search for traces of this force which is not god, and is certainly not the higher than deity of whom i have written. it is a force without a mind. i wish to indicate something more subtle than electricity, but absolutely devoid of consciousness, and with no more feeling than the force which lifts the tides. next, in human affairs, in the relations of man with man, in the conduct of life, in the events that occur, in human affairs generally everything happens by chance. no prudence in conduct, no wisdom or foresight can effect anything, for the most trivial circumstance will upset the deepest plan of the wisest mind. as xenophon observed in old times, wisdom is like casting dice and determining your course by the number that appears. virtue, humanity, the best and most beautiful conduct is wholly in vain. the history of thousands of years demonstrates it. in all these years there is no more moving instance on record than that of danae, when she was dragged to the precipice, two thousand years ago. sophron was governor of ephesus, and laodice plotted to assassinate him. danae discovered the plot, and warned sophron, who fled, and saved his life. laodice--the murderess in intent--had danae seized and cast from a cliff. on the verge danae said that some persons despised the deity, and they might now prove the justice of their contempt by her fate. for having saved the man who was to her as a husband, she was rewarded in this way with cruel death by the deity, but laodice was advanced to honour. the bitterness of these words remains to this hour. in truth the deity, if responsible for such a thing, or for similar things which occur now, should be despised. one must always despise the fatuous belief in such a deity. but as everything in human affairs obviously happens by chance, it is clear that no deity is responsible. if the deity guides chance in that manner, then let the deity be despised. apparently the deity does not interfere, and all things happen by chance. i cease, therefore, to look for traces of the deity in life, because no such traces exist. i conclude that there is an existence, a something higher than soul--higher, better, and more perfect than deity. earnestly i pray to find this something better than a god. there is something superior, higher, more good. for this i search, labour, think, and pray. if after all there be nothing, and my soul has to go out like a flame, yet even then i have thought this while it lives. with the whole force of my existence, with the whole force of my thought, mind, and soul, i pray to find this highest soul, this greater than deity, this better than god. give me to live the deepest soul-life now and always with this soul. for want of words i write soul, but i think that it is something beyond soul. chapter v it is not possible to narrate these incidents of the mind in strict order. i must now return to a period earlier than anything already narrated, and pass in review other phases of my search from then up till recently. so long since that i have forgotten the date, i used every morning to visit a spot where i could get a clear view of the east. immediately on rising i went out to some elms; thence i could see across the dewy fields to the distant hill over or near which the sun rose. these elms partially hid me, for at that time i had a dislike to being seen, feeling that i should be despised if i was noticed. this happened once or twice, and i knew i was watched contemptuously, though no one had the least idea of my object. but i went every morning, and was satisfied if i could get two or three minutes to think unchecked. often i saw the sun rise over the line of the hills, but if it was summer the sun had been up a long time. i looked at the hills, at the dewy grass, and then up through the elm branches to the sky. in a moment all that was behind me, the house, the people, the sounds, seemed to disappear, and to leave me alone. involuntarily i drew a long breath, then i breathed slowly. my thought, or inner consciousness, went up through the illumined sky, and i was lost in a moment of exaltation. this only lasted a very short time, perhaps only part of a second, and while it lasted there was no formulated wish. i was absorbed; i drank the beauty of the morning; i was exalted. when it ceased i did wish for some increase or enlargement of my existence to correspond with the largeness of feeling i had momentarily enjoyed. sometimes the wind came through the tops of the elms, and the slender boughs bent, and gazing up through them, and beyond the fleecy clouds, i felt lifted up. the light coming across the grass and leaving itself on the dew-drops, the sound of the wind, and the sense of mounting to the lofty heaven, filled me with a deep sigh, a wish to draw something out of the beauty of it, some part of that which caused my admiration, the subtle inner essence. sometimes the green tips of the highest boughs seemed gilded, the light laid a gold on the green. or the trees bowed to a stormy wind roaring through them, the grass threw itself down, and in the east broad curtains of a rosy tint stretched along. the light was turned to redness in the vapour, and rain hid the summit of the hill. in the rush and roar of the stormy wind the same exaltation, the same desire, lifted me for a moment. i went there every morning, i could not exactly define why; it was like going to a rose bush to taste the scent of the flower and feel the dew from its petals on the lips. but i desired the beauty--the inner subtle meaning--to be in me, that i might have it, and with it an existence of a higher kind. later on i began to have daily pilgrimages to think these things. there was a feeling that i must go somewhere, and be alone. it was a necessity to have a few minutes of this separate life every day; my mind required to live its own life apart from other things. a great oak at a short distance was one resort, and sitting on the grass at the roots, or leaning against the trunk and looking over the quiet meadows towards the bright southern sky, i could live my own life a little while. behind the trunk i was alone; i liked to lean against it; to touch the lichen on the rough bark. high in the wood of branches the birds were not alarmed; they sang, or called, and passed to and fro happily. the wind moved the leaves, and they replied to it softly; and now at this distance of time i can see the fragments of sky up through the boughs. bees were always humming in the green field; ring-doves went over swiftly, flying for the woods. of the sun i was conscious; i could not look at it, but the boughs held back the beams so that i could feel the sun's presence pleasantly. they shaded the sun, yet let me know that it was there. there came to me a delicate, but at the same time a deep, strong, and sensuous enjoyment of the beautiful green earth, the beautiful sky and sun; i felt them, they gave me inexpressible delight, as if they embraced and poured out their love upon me. it was i who loved them, for my heart was broader than the earth; it is broader now than even then, more thirsty and desirous. after the sensuous enjoyment always came the thought, the desire: that i might be like this; that i might have the inner meaning of the sun, the light, the earth, the trees and grass, translated into some growth of excellence in myself, both of body and of mind; greater perfection of physique, greater perfection of mind and soul; that i might be higher in myself. to this oak i came daily for a long time; sometimes only for a minute, for just to view the spot was enough. in the bitter cold of spring, when the north wind blackened everything, i used to come now and then at night to look from under the bare branches at the splendour of the southern sky. the stars burned with brilliance, broad orion and flashing sirius--there are more or brighter constellations visible then than all the year: and the clearness of the air and the blackness of the sky--black, not clouded--let them gleam in their fulness. they lifted me--they gave me fresh vigour of soul. not all that the stars could have given, had they been destinies, could have satiated me. this, all this, and more, i wanted in myself. there was a place a mile or so along the road where the hills could be seen much better; i went there frequently to think the same thought. another spot was by an elm, a very short walk, where openings in the trees, and the slope of the ground, brought the hills well into view. this too, was a favourite thinking-place. another was a wood, half an hour's walk distant, through part of which a rude track went, so that it was not altogether inclosed. the ash-saplings, and the trees, the firs, the hazel bushes--to be among these enabled me to be myself. from the buds of spring to the berries of autumn, i always liked to be there. sometimes in spring there was a sheen of blue-bells covering acres; the doves cooed; the blackbirds whistled sweetly; there was a taste of green things in the air. but it was the tall firs that pleased me most; the glance rose up the flame-shaped fir-tree, tapering to its green tip, and above was the azure sky. by aid of the tree i felt the sky more. by aid of everything beautiful i felt myself, and in that intense sense of consciousness prayed for greater perfection of soul and body. afterwards, i walked almost daily more than two miles along the road to a spot where the hills began, where from the first rise the road could be seen winding southwards over the hills, open and uninclosed. i paused a minute or two by a clump of firs, in whose branches the wind always sighed--there is always a movement of the air on a hill. southwards the sky was illumined by the sun, southwards the clouds moved across the opening or pass in the amphitheatre, and southwards, though far distant, was the sea. there i could think a moment. these pilgrimages gave me a few sacred minutes daily; the moment seemed holy when the thought or desire came in its full force. a time came when, having to live in a town, these pilgrimages had to be suspended. the wearisome work on which i was engaged would not permit of them. but i used to look now and then, from a window, in the evening at a birch-tree at some distance; its graceful boughs drooped across the glow of the sunset. the thought was not suspended; it lived in me always. a bitterer time still came when it was necessary to be separated from those i loved. there is little indeed in the more immediate suburbs of london to gratify the sense of the beautiful. yet there was a cedar by which i used to walk up and down, and think the same thoughts as under the great oak in the solitude of the sunlit meadows. in the course of slow time happier circumstances brought us together again, and, though near london, at a spot where there was easy access to meadows and woods. hills that purify those who walk on them there were not. still i thought my old thoughts. i was much in london, and, engagements completed, i wandered about in the same way as in the woods of former days. from the stone bridges i looked down on the river; the gritty dust, the straws that lie on the bridges, flew up and whirled round with every gust from the flowing tide; gritty dust that settles in the nostrils and on the lips, the very residuum of all that is repulsive in the greatest city of the world. the noise of the traffic and the constant pressure from the crowds passing, their incessant and disjointed talk, could not distract me. one moment at least i had, a moment when i thought of the push of the great sea forcing the water to flow under the feet of these crowds, the distant sea strong and splendid; when i saw the sunlight gleam on the tidal wavelets; when i felt the wind, and was conscious of the earth, the sea, the sun, the air, the immense forces working on, while the city hummed by the river. nature was deepened by the crowds and foot-worn stones. if the tide had ebbed, and the masts of the vessels were tilted as the hulls rested on the shelving mud, still even the blackened mud did not prevent me seeing the water as water flowing to the sea. the sea had drawn down, and the wavelets washing the strand here as they hastened were running the faster to it. eastwards from london bridge the river raced to the ocean. the bright morning sun of summer heated the eastern parapet of london bridge; i stayed in the recess to acknowledge it. the smooth water was a broad sheen of light, the built-up river flowed calm and silent by a thousand doors, rippling only where the stream chafed against a chain. red pennants drooped, gilded vanes gleamed on polished masts, black-pitched hulls glistened like a black rook's feathers in sunlight; the clear air cut out the forward angles of the warehouses, the shadowed wharves were quiet in shadows that carried light; far down the ships that were hauling out moved in repose, and with the stream floated away into the summer mist. there was a faint blue colour in the air hovering between the built-up banks, against the lit walls, in the hollows of the houses. the swallows wheeled and climbed, twittered and glided downwards. burning on, the great sun stood in the sky, heating the parapet, glowing steadfastly upon me as when i rested in the narrow valley grooved out in prehistoric times. burning on steadfast, and ever present as my thought. lighting the broad river, the broad walls; lighting the least speck of dust; lighting the great heaven; gleaming on my finger-nail. the fixed point of day--the sun. i was intensely conscious of it; i felt it; i felt the presence of the immense powers of the universe; i felt out into the depths of the ether. so intensely conscious of the sun, the sky, the limitless space, i felt too in the midst of eternity then, in the midst of the supernatural, among the immortal, and the greatness of the material realised the spirit. by these i saw my soul; by these i knew the supernatural to be more intensely real than the sun. i touched the supernatural, the immortal, there that moment. when, weary of walking on the pavements, i went to rest in the national gallery, i sat and rested before one or other of the human pictures. i am not a picture lover: they are flat surfaces, but those that i call human are nevertheless beautiful. the knee in daphnis and chloe and the breast are like living things; they draw the heart towards them, the heart must love them. i lived in looking; without beauty there is no life for me, the divine beauty of flesh is life itself to me. the shoulder in the surprise, the rounded rise of the bust, the exquisite tints of the ripe skin, momentarily gratified the sea-thirst in me. for i thirst with all the thirst of the salt sea, and the sun-heated sands dry for the tide, with all the sea i thirst for beauty. and i know full well that one lifetime, however long, cannot fill my heart. my throat and tongue and whole body have often been parched and feverish dry with this measureless thirst, and again moist to the fingers' ends like a sappy bough. it burns in me as the sun burns in the sky. the glowing face of cytherea in titian's venus and adonis, the heated cheek, the lips that kiss each eye that gazes on them, the desiring glance, the golden hair--sunbeams moulded into features--this face answered me. juno's wide back and mesial groove, is any thing so lovely as the back? cythereals poised hips unveiled for judgment; these called up the same thirst i felt on the green sward in the sun, on the wild beach listening to the quiet sob as the summer wave drank at the land. i will search the world through for beauty. i came here and sat to rest before these in the days when i could not afford to buy so much as a glass of ale, weary and faint from walking on stone pavements. i came later on, in better times, often straight from labours which though necessary will ever be distasteful, always to rest my heart with loveliness. i go still; the divine beauty of flesh is life itself to me. it was, and is, one of my london pilgrimages. another was to the greek sculpture galleries in the british museum. the statues are not, it is said, the best; broken too, and mutilated, and seen in a dull, commonplace light. but they were shape--divine shape of man and woman; the form of limb and torso, of bust and neck, gave me a sighing sense of rest. these were they who would have stayed with me under the shadow of the oaks while the blackbirds fluted and the south air swung the cowslips. they would have walked with me among the reddened gold of the wheat. they would have rested with me on the hill-tops and in the narrow valley grooved of ancient times. they would have listened with me to the sob of the summer sea drinking the land. these had thirsted of sun, and earth, and sea, and sky. their shape spoke this thirst and desire like mine--if i had lived with them from greece till now i should not have had enough of them. tracing the form of limb and torso with the eye gave me a sense of rest. sometimes i came in from the crowded streets and ceaseless hum; one glance at these shapes and i became myself. sometimes i came from the reading-room, where under the dome i often looked up from the desk and realised the crushing hopelessness of books, useless, not equal to one bubble borne along on the running brook i had walked by, giving no thought like the spring when i lifted the water in my hand and saw the light gleam on it. torso and limb, bust and neck instantly returned me to myself; i felt as i did lying on the turf listening to the wind among the grass; it would have seemed natural to have found butterflies fluttering among he statues. the same deep desire was with me. i shall always go to speak to them; they are a place of pilgrimage; wherever there is a beautiful statue there is a place of pilgrimage. i always stepped aside, too, to look awhile at the head of julius caesar. the domes of the swelling temples of his broad head are full of mind, evident to the eye as a globe is full of substance to the sense of feeling in the hands that hold it. the thin worn cheek is entirely human; endless difficulties surmounted by endless labour are marked in it, as the sandblast, by dint of particles ceaselessly driven, carves the hardest material. if circumstances favoured him he made those circumstances his own by marvellous labour, so as justly to receive the credit of chance. therefore the thin cheek is entirely human--the sum of human life made visible in one face--labour, and endurance, and mind, and all in vain. a shadow--of deep sadness has gathered on it in the years that have passed, because endurance was without avail. it is sadder to look at than the grass-grown tumulus i used to sit by, because it is a personality, and also on account of the extreme folly of our human race ever destroying our greatest. far better had they endeavoured, however hopelessly, to keep him living till this day. did but the race this hour possess one-hundredth part of his breadth of view, how happy for them! of whom else can it be said that he had no enemies to forgive because he recognised no enemy? nineteen hundred years ago he put in actual practice, with more arbitrary power than any despot, those very principles of humanity which are now put forward as the highest culture. but he made them to be actual things under his sway. the one man filled with mind; the one man without avarice, anger, pettiness, littleness; the one man generous and truly great of all history. it is enough to make one despair to think of the mere brutes butting to death the great-minded caesar. he comes nearest to the ideal of a design-power arranging the affairs of the world for good in practical things. before his face--the divine brow of mind above, the human suffering-drawn cheek beneath--my own thought became set and strengthened. that i could but look at things in the broad way he did; that i could not possess one particle of such width of intellect to guide my own course, to cope with and drag forth from the iron-resisting forces of the universe some one thing of my prayer for the soul and for the flesh. chapter vi there is a place in front of the royal exchange where the wide pavement reaches out like a promontory. it is in the shape of a triangle with a rounded apex. a stream of traffic runs on either side, and other streets send their currents down into the open space before it. like the spokes of a wheel converging streams of human life flow into this agitated pool. horses and carriages, carts, vans, omnibuses, cabs, every kind of conveyance cross each other's course in every possible direction. twisting in and out by the wheels and under the horses' heads, working a devious way, men and women of all conditions wind a path over. they fill the interstices between the carriages and blacken the surface, till the vans almost float on human beings. now the streams slacken, and now they rush amain, but never cease; dark waves are always rolling down the incline opposite, waves swell out from the side rivers, all london converges into this focus. there is an indistinguishable noise--it is not clatter, hum, or roar, it is not resolvable; made up of a thousand thousand footsteps, from a thousand hoofs, a thousand wheels--of haste, and shuffle, and quick movements, and ponderous loads; no attention can resolve it into a fixed sound. blue carts and yellow omnibuses, varnished carriages and brown vans, green omnibuses and red cabs, pale loads of yellow straw, rusty-red iron clanking on paintless carts, high white wool-packs, grey horses, bay horses, black teams; sunlight sparkling on brass harness, gleaming from carriage panels; jingle, jingle, jingle! an intermixed and intertangled, ceaselessly changing jingle, too, of colour; flecks of colour champed, as it were, like bits in the horses' teeth, frothed and strewn about, and a surface always of dark-dressed people winding like the curves on fast-flowing water. this is the vortex and whirlpool, the centre of human life today on the earth. now the tide rises and now it sinks, but the flow of these rivers always continues. here it seethes and whirls, not for an hour only, but for all present time, hour by hour, day by day, year by year. here it rushes and pushes, the atoms triturate and grind, and, eagerly thrusting by, pursue their separate ends. here it appears in its unconcealed personality, indifferent to all else but itself, absorbed and rapt in eager self, devoid and stripped of conventional gloss and politeness, yielding only to get its own way; driving, pushing, carried on in a stress of feverish force like a bullet, dynamic force apart from reason or will, like the force that lifts the tides and sends the clouds onwards. the friction of a thousand interests evolves a condition of electricity in which men are moved to and fro without considering their steps. yet the agitated pool of life is stonily indifferent, the thought is absent or preoccupied, for it is evident that the mass are unconscious of the scene in which they act. but it is more sternly real than the very stones, for all these men and women that pass through are driven on by the push of accumulated circumstances; they cannot stay, they must go, their necks are in the slave's ring, they are beaten like seaweed against the solid walls of fact. in ancient times, xerxes, the king of kings, looking down upon his myriads, wept to think that in a hundred years not one of them would be left. where will be these millions of to-day in a hundred years? but, further than that, let us ask, where then will be the sum and outcome of their labour? if they wither away like summer grass, will not at least a result be left which those of a hundred years hence may be the better for? no, not one jot! there will not be any sum or outcome or result of this ceaseless labour and movement; it vanishes in the moment that it is done, and in a hundred years nothing will be there, for nothing is there now. there will be no more sum or result than accumulates from the motion of a revolving cowl on a housetop. nor do they receive any more sunshine during their lives, for they are unconscious of the sun. i used to come and stand near the apex of the promontory of pavement which juts out towards the pool of life; i still go there to ponder. burning in the sky, the sun shone on me as when i rested in the narrow valley carved in prehistoric time. burning in the sky, i can never forget the sun. the heat of summer is dry there as if the light carried an impalpable dust; dry, breathless heat that will not let the skin respire, but swathes up the dry fire in the blood. but beyond the heat and light, i felt the presence of the sun as i felt it in the solitary valley, the presence of the resistless forces of the universe; the sun burned in the sky as i stood and pondered. is there any theory, philosophy, or creed, is there any system or culture, any formulated method able to meet and satisfy each separate item of this agitated pool of human life? by which they may be guided, by which hope, by which look forward? not a mere illusion of the craven heart--something real, as real as the solid walls of fact against which, like drifted sea-weed, they are dashed; something to give each separate personality sunshine and a flower in its own existence now; something to shape this million-handed labour to an end and outcome that will leave more sunshine and more flowers to those who must succeed? something real now, and not in the spirit-land; in this hour now, as i stand and the sun burns. can any creed, philosophy, system, or culture endure the test and remain unmolten in this fierce focus of human life? consider, is there anything slowly painted on the once mystic and now commonplace papyri of ancient, ancient egypt, held on the mummy's withered breast? in that elaborate ritual, in the procession of the symbols, in the winged circle, in the laborious sarcophagus? nothing; absolutely nothing! before the fierce heat of the human furnace, the papyri smoulder away as paper smoulders under a lens in the sun. remember nineveh and the cult of the fir-cone, the turbaned and bearded bulls of stone, the lion hunt, the painted chambers loaded with tile books, the lore of the arrow-headed writing. what is in assyria? there are sand, and failing rivers, and in assyria's writings an utter nothing. the aged caves of india, who shall tell when they were sculptured? far back when the sun was burning, burning in the sky as now in untold precedent time. is there any meaning in those ancient caves? the indistinguishable noise not to be resolved, born of the human struggle, mocks in answer. in the strange characters of the zend, in the sanscrit, in the effortless creed of confucius, in the aztec coloured-string writings and rayed stones, in the uncertain marks left of the sunken polynesian continent, hieroglyphs as useless as those of memphis, nothing. nothing! they have been tried, and were found an illusion. think then, to-day, now looking from this apex of the pavement promontory outwards from our own land to the utmost bounds of the farthest sail, is there any faith or culture at this hour which can stand in this fierce heat? from the various forms of semitic, aryan, or turanian creed now existing, from the printing-press to the palm-leaf volume on to those who call on the jewel in the lotus, can aught be gathered which can face this, the reality? the indistinguishable noise, non-resolvable, roars a loud contempt. turn, then, to the calm reasoning of aristotle; is there anything in that? can the half-divine thought of plato, rising in storeys of sequential ideas, following each other to the conclusion, endure here? no! all the philosophers in diogenes laertius fade away: the theories of mediaeval days; the organon of experiment; down to this hour--they are useless alike. the science of this hour, drawn from the printing-press in an endless web of paper, is powerless here; the indistinguishable noise echoed from the smoke-shadowed walls despises the whole. a thousand footsteps, a thousand hoofs, a thousand wheels roll over and utterly contemn them in complete annihilation. mere illusions of heart or mind, they are tested and thrust aside by the irresistible push of a million converging feet. burning in the sky, the sun shines as it shone on me in the solitary valley, as it burned on when the earliest cave of india was carved. above the indistinguishable roar of the many feet i feel the presence of the sun, of the immense forces of the universe, and beyond these the sense of the eternal now, of the immortal. full well aware that all has failed, yet, side by side with the sadness of that knowledge, there lives on in me an unquenchable belief, thought burning like the sun, that there is yet something to be found, something real, something to give each separate personality sunshine and flowers in its own existence now. something to shape this million-handed labour to an end and outcome, leaving accumulated sunshine and flowers to those who shall succeed. it must be dragged forth by might of thought from the immense forces of the universe. to prepare for such an effort, first the mind must be cleared of the conceit that, because we live to-day, we are wiser than the ages gone. the mind must acknowledge its ignorance; all the learning and lore of so many eras must be erased from it as an encumbrance. it is not from past or present knowledge, science or faith, that it is to be drawn. erase these altogether as they are erased under the fierce heat of the focus before me. begin wholly afresh. go straight to the sun, the immense forces of the universe, to the entity unknown; go higher than a god; deeper than prayer; and open a new day. that i might but have a fragment of caesar's intellect to find a fragment of this desire! from my home near london i made a pilgrimage almost daily to an aspen by a brook. it was a mile and a quarter along the road, far enough for me to walk off the concentration of mind necessary for work. the idea of the pilgrimage was to get away from the endless and nameless circumstances of everyday existence, which by degrees build a wall about the mind so that it travels in a constantly narrowing circle. this tether of the faculties tends to make them accept present knowledge, and present things, as all that can be attained to. this is all--there is nothing more--is the iterated preaching of house-life. remain; be content; go round and round in one barren path, a little money, a little food and sleep, some ancient fables, old age and death. of all the inventions of casuistry with man for ages has in various ways which manacled himself, and stayed his own advance, there is none equally potent with the supposition that nothing more is possible. once well impress on the mind that it has already all, that advance is impossible because there is nothing further, and it is chained like a horse to an iron pin in the ground. it is the most deadly--the most fatal poison of the mind. no such casuistry has ever for a moment held me, but still, if permitted, the constant routine of house-life, the same work, the same thought in the work, the little circumstances regularly recurring, will dull the keenest edge of thought. by my daily pilgrimage, i escaped from it back to the sun. in summer the leaves of the aspen rustled pleasantly, there was the tinkle of falling water over a hatch, thrushes sang and blackbirds whistled, greenfinches laughed in their talk to each other. the commonplace dusty road was commonplace no longer. in the dust was the mark of the chaffinches' little feet; the white light rendered even the dust brighter to look on. the air came from the south-west--there were distant hills in that direction--over fields of grass and corn. as i visited the spot from day to day the wheat grew from green to yellow, the wild roses flowered, the scarlet poppies appeared, and again the beeches reddened in autumn. in the march of time there fell away from my mind, as the leaves from the trees in autumn, the last traces and relics of superstitions and traditions acquired compulsorily in childhood. always feebly adhering, they finally disappeared. there fell away, too, personal bias and prejudices, enabling me to see clearer and with wider sympathies. the glamour of modern science and discoveries faded away, for i found them no more than the first potter's wheel. erasure and reception proceeded together; the past accumulations of casuistry were erased, and my thought widened to receive the idea of something beyond all previous ideas. with disbelief, belief increased. the aspiration and hope, the prayer, was the same as that which i felt years before on the hills, only it now broadened. experience of life, instead of curtailing and checking my prayer, led me to reject experience altogether. as well might the horse believe that the road the bridle forces it to traverse every day encircles the earth as i believe in experience. all the experience of the greatest city in the world could not withhold me. i rejected it wholly. i stood bare-headed before the sun, in the presence of the earth and air, in the presence of the immense forces of the universe. i demand that which will make me more perfect now, this hour. london convinced me of my own thought. that thought has always been with me, and always grows wider. one midsummer i went out of the road into the fields, and sat down on the grass between the yellowing wheat and the green hawthorn bushes. the sun burned in the sky, the wheat was full of a luxuriant sense of growth, the grass high, the earth giving its vigour to tree and leaf, the heaven blue. the vigour and growth, the warmth and light, the beauty and richness of it entered into me; an ecstasy of soul accompanied the delicate excitement of the senses: the soul rose with the body. rapt in the fulness of the moment, i prayed there with all that expansion of mind and frame; no words, no definition, inexpressible desire of physical life, of soul-life, equal to and beyond the highest imagining of my heart. these memories cannot be placed in exact chronological order. there was a time when a weary restlessness came upon me, perhaps from too-long-continued labour. it was like a drought--a moral drought--as if i had been absent for many years from the sources of life and hope. the inner nature was faint, all was dry and tasteless; i was weary for the pure, fresh springs of thought. some instinctive feeling uncontrollable drove me to the sea; i was so under its influence that i could not arrange the journey so as to get the longest day. i merely started, and of course had to wait and endure much inconvenience. to get to the sea at some quiet spot was my one thought; to do so i had to travel farther, and from want of prearrangement it was between two and three in the afternoon before i reached the end of my journey. even then, being too much preoccupied to inquire the way, i missed the road and had to walk a long distance before coming to the shore. but i found the sea at last; i walked beside it in a trance away from the houses out into the wheat. the ripe corn stood up to the beach, the waves on one side of the shingle, and the yellow wheat on the other. there, alone, i went down to the sea. i stood where the foam came to my feet, and looked out over the sunlit waters. the great earth bearing the richness of the harvest, and its hills golden with corn, was at my back; its strength and firmness under me. the great sun shone above, the wide sea was before me, the wind came sweet and strong from the waves. the life of the earth and the sea, the glow of the sun filled me; i touched the surge with my hand, i lifted my face to the sun, i opened my lips to the wind. i prayed aloud in the roar of the waves--my soul was strong as the sea and prayed with the sea's might. give me fulness of life like to the sea and the sun, to the earth and the air; give me fulness of physical life, mind equal and beyond their fulness; give me a greatness and perfection of soul higher than all things; give me my inexpressible desire which swells in me like a tide--give it to me with all the force of the sea. then i rested, sitting by the wheat; the bank of beach was between me and the sea, but the waves beat against it; the sea was there, the sea was present and at hand. by the dry wheat i rested, i did not think, i was inhaling the richness of the sea, all the strength and depth of meaning of the sea and earth came to me again. i rubbed out some of the wheat in my hands, i took up a piece of clod and crumbled it in my fingers--it was a joy to touch it--i held my hand so that i could see the sunlight gleam on the slightly moist surface of the skin. the earth and sun were to me like my flesh and blood, and the air of the sea life. with all the greater existence i drew from them i prayed for a bodily life equal to it, for a soul-life beyond my thought, for my inexpressible desire of more than i could shape even into idea. there was something higher than idea, invisible to thought as air to the eye; give me bodily life equal in fulness to the strength of earth, and sun, and sea; give me the soul-life of my desire. once more i went down to the sea, touched it, and said farewell. so deep was the inhalation of this life that day, that it seemed to remain in me for years. this was a real pilgrimage. time passed away, with more labour, pleasure, and again at last, after much pain and wearinesss of mind, i came down again to the sea. the circumstances were changed--it was not a hurried glance--there were opportunities for longer thought. it mattered scarcely anything to me now whether i was alone, or whether houses and other people were near. nothing could disturb my inner vision. by the sea, aware of the sun overhead, and the blue heaven, i feel that there is nothing between me and space. this is the verge of a gulf, and a tangent from my feet goes straight unchecked into the unknown. it is the edge of the abyss as much as if the earth were cut away in a sheer fall of eight thousand miles to the sky beneath, thence a hollow to the stars. looking straight out is looking straight down; the eye-glance gradually departs from the sea-level, and, rising as that falls, enters the hollow of heaven. it is gazing along the face of a vast precipice into the hollow space which is nameless. there mystery has been placed, but realising the vast hollow yonder makes me feel that the mystery is here. i, who am here on the verge, standing on the margin of the sky, am in the mystery itself. if i let my eye look back upon me from the extreme opposite of heaven, then this spot where i stand is in the centre of the hollow. alone with the sea and sky, i presently feel all the depth and wonder of the unknown come back surging up around, and touching me as the foam runs to my feet. i am in it now, not to-morrow, this moment; i cannot escape from it. though i may deceive myself with labour, yet still i am in it; in sleep too. there is no escape from this immensity. feeling this by the sea, under the sun, my life enlarges and quickens, striving to take to itself the largeness of the heaven. the frame cannot expand, but the soul is able to stand before it. no giant's body could be in proportion to the earth, but a little spirit is equal to the entire cosmos, to earth and ocean, sun and star-hollow. these are but a few acres to it. were the cosmos twice as wide, the soul could run over it, and return to itself in a time so small, no measure exists to mete it. therefore, i think the soul may sometimes find out an existence as superior as my mind is to the dead chalk cliff. with the great sun burning over the foam-flaked sea, roofed with heaven--aware of myself, a consciousness forced on me by these things--i feel that thought must yet grow larger and correspond in magnitude of conception to these. but these cannot content me, these titanic things of sea, and sun, and profundity; i feel that my thought is stronger than they are. i burn life like a torch. the hot light shot back from the sea scorches my cheek--my life is burning in me. the soul throbs like the sea for a larger life. no thought which i have ever had has satisfied my soul. chapter vii my strength is not enough to fulfil my desire; if i had the strength of the ocean, and of the earth, the burning vigour of the sun implanted in my limbs, it would hardly suffice to gratify the measureless desire of life which possesses me. i have often walked the day long over the sward, and, compelled to pause, at length, in my weariness, i was full of the same eagerness with which i started. the sinews would obey no longer, but the will was the same. my frame could never take the violent exertion my heart demanded. labour of body was like meat and drink to me. over the open hills, up the steep ascents, mile after mile, there was deep enjoyment in the long-drawn breath, the spring of the foot, in the act of rapid movement. never have i had enough of it; i wearied long before i was satisfied, and weariness did not bring a cessation of desire; the thirst was still there. i rowed, i used the axe, i split tree-trunks with wedges; my arms tired, but my spirit remained fresh and chafed against the physical weariness. my arms were not strong enough to satisfy me with the axe, or wedges, or oars. there was delight in the moment, but it was not enough. i swam, and what is more delicious than swimming? it is exercise and luxury at once. but i could not swim far enough; i was always dissatisfied with myself on leaving the water. nature has not given me a great frame, and had it done so i should still have longed for more. i was out of doors all day, and often half the night; still i wanted more sunshine, more air, the hours were too short. i feel this even more now than in the violence of early youth: the hours are too short, the day should be sixty hours long. slumber, too, is abbreviated and restricted; forty hours of night and sleep would not be too much. so little can be accomplished in the longest summer day, so little rest and new force is accumulated in a short eight hours of sleep. i live by the sea now; i can see nothing of it in a day; why, i do but get a breath of it, and the sun sinks before i have well begun to think. life is so little and so mean. i dream sometimes backwards of the ancient times. if i could have the bow of ninus, and the earth full of wild bulls and lions, to hunt them down, there would be rest in that. to shoot with a gun is nothing; a mere touch discharges it. give me a bow, that i may enjoy the delight of feeling myself draw the string and the strong wood bending, that i may see the rush of the arrow, and the broad head bury itself deep in shaggy hide. give me an iron mace that i may crush the savage beast and hammer him down. a spear to thrust through with, so that i may feel the long blade enter and the push of the shaft. the unwearied strength of ninus to hunt unceasingly in the fierce sun. still i should desire greater strength and a stouter bow, wilder creatures to combat. the intense life of the senses, there is never enough for them. i envy semiramis; i would have been ten times semiramis. i envy nero, because of the great concourse of beauty he saw. i should like to be loved by every beautiful woman on earth, from the swart nubian to the white and divine greek. wine is pleasant and meat refreshing; but though i own with absolute honesty that i like them, these are the least of all. of these two only have i ever had enough. the vehemence of exertion, the vehemence of the spear, the vehemence of sunlight and life, the insatiate desire of insatiate semiramis, the still more insatiate desire of love, divine and beautiful, the uncontrollable adoration of beauty, these--these: give me these in greater abundance than was ever known to man or woman. the strength of hercules, the fulness of the senses, the richness of life, would not in the least impair my desire of soul-life. on the reverse, with every stronger beat of the pulse my desire of soul-life would expand. so it has ever been with me; in hard exercise, in sensuous pleasure, in the embrace of the sunlight, even in the drinking of a glass of wine, my heart has been lifted the higher towards perfection of soul. fulness of physical life causes a deeper desire of soul-life. let me be physically perfect, in shape, vigour, and movement. my frame, naturally slender, will not respond to labour, and increase in proportion to effort, nor will exposure harden a delicate skin. it disappoints me so far, but my spirit rises with the effort, and my thought opens. this is the only profit of frost, the pleasure of winter, to conquer cold, and to feel braced and strengthened by that whose province it is to wither and destroy, making of cold, life's enemy, life's renewer. the black north wind hardens the resolution as steel is tempered in ice-water. it is a sensual joy, as sensuous as the warm embrace of the sunlight, but fulness of physical life ever brings to me a more eager desire of soul-life. splendid it is to feel the boat rise to the roller, or forced through by the sail to shear the foam aside like a share; splendid to undulate as the chest lies on the wave, swimming, the brimming ocean round: then i know and feel its deep strong tide, its immense fulness, and the sun glowing over; splendid to climb the steep green hill: in these i feel myself, i drink the exquisite joy of the senses, and my soul lifts itself with them. it is beautiful even to watch a fine horse gallop, the long stride, the rush of the wind as he passes--my heart beats quicker to the thud of the hoofs, and i feel his strength. gladly would i have the strength of the tartar stallion roaming the wild steppe; that very strength, what vehemence of soul-thought would accompany it. but i should like it, too, for itself. for i believe, with all my heart, in the body and the flesh, and believe that it should be increased and made more beautiful by every means. i believe--i do more than think--i believe it to be a sacred duty, incumbent upon every one, man and woman, to add to and encourage their physical life, by exercise, and in every manner. a sacred duty each towards himself, and each towards the whole of the human race. each one of us should do some little part for the physical good of the race--health, strength, vigour. there is no harm therein to the soul: on the contrary, those who stunt their physical life are most certainly stunting their souls. i believe all manner of asceticism to be the vilest blasphemy--blasphemy towards the whole of the human race. i believe in the flesh and the body, which is worthy of worship--to see a perfect human body unveiled causes a sense of worship. the ascetics are the only persons who are impure. increase of physical beauty is attended by increase of soul beauty. the soul is the high even by gazing on beauty. let me be fleshly perfect. it is in myself that i desire increase, profit, and exaltation of body, mind, and soul. the surroundings, the clothes, the dwelling, the social status, the circumstances are to me utterly indifferent. let the floor of the room be bare, let the furniture be a plank table, the bed a mere pallet. let the house be plain and simple, but in the midst of air and light. these are enough--a cave would be enough; in a warmer climate the open air would suffice. let me be furnished in myself with health, safety, strength, the perfection of physical existence; let my mind be furnished with highest thoughts of soul-life. let me be in myself myself fully. the pageantry of power, the still more foolish pageantry of wealth, the senseless precedence of place; words fail me to express my utter contempt for such pleasure or such ambitions. let me be in myself myself fully, and those i love equally so. it is enough to lie on the sward in the shadow of green boughs, to listen to the songs of summer, to drink in the sunlight, the air, the flowers, the sky, the beauty of all. or upon the hill-tops to watch the white clouds rising over the curved hill-lines, their shadows descending the slope. or on the beach to listen to the sweet sigh as the smooth sea runs up and recedes. it is lying beside the immortals, in-drawing the life of the ocean, the earth, and the sun. i want to be always in company with these, with earth, and sun, and sea, and stars by night. the pettiness of house-life--chairs and tables--and the pettiness of observances, the petty necessity of useless labour, useless because productive of nothing, chafe me the year through. i want to be always in company with the sun, and sea, and earth. these, and the stars by night, are my natural companions. my heart looks back and sympathises with all the joy and life of ancient time. with the circling dance burned in still attitude on the vase; with the chase and the hunter eagerly pursuing, whose javelin trembles to be thrown; with the extreme fury of feeling, the whirl of joy in the warriors from marathon to the last battle of rome, not with the slaughter, but with the passion--the life in the passion; with the garlands and the flowers; with all the breathing busts that have panted beneath the sun. o beautiful human life! tears come in my eyes as i think of it. so beautiful, so inexpressibly beautiful! so deep is the passion of life that, if it were possible to live again, it must be exquisite to die pushing the eager breast against the sword. in the flush of strength to face the sharp pain joyously, and laugh in the last glance of the sun--if only to live again, now on earth, were possible. so subtle is the chord of life that sometimes to watch troops marching in rhythmic order, undulating along the column as the feet are lifted, brings tears in my eyes. yet could i have in my own heart all the passion, the love and joy, burned in the breasts that have panted, breathing deeply, since the hour of ilion, yet still i should desire more. how willingly i would strew the paths of all with flowers; how beautiful a delight to make the world joyous! the song should never be silent, the dance never still, the laugh should sound like water which runs for ever. i would submit to a severe discipline, and to go without many things cheerfully, for the good and happiness of the human race in the future. each one of us should do something, however small, towards that great end. at the present time the labour of our predecessors in this country, in all other countries of the earth, is entirely wasted. we live--that is, we snatch an existence--and our works become nothing. the piling up of fortunes, the building of cities, the establishment of immense commerce, ends in a cipher. these objects are so outside my idea that i cannot understand them, and look upon the struggle in amazement. not even the pressure of poverty can force upon me an understanding of, and sympathy with, these things. it is the human being as the human being of whom i think. that the human being as the human being, nude--apart altogether from money, clothing, houses, properties--should enjoy greater health, strength, safety, beauty, and happiness, i would gladly agree to a discipline like that of sparta. the spartan method did produce the finest race of men, and sparta was famous in antiquity for the most beautiful women. so far, therefore, it fits exactly to my ideas. no science of modern times has yet discovered a plan to meet the requirements of the millions who live now, no plan by which they might attain similar physical proportion. some increase of longevity, some slight improvement in the general health is promised, and these are great things, but far, far beneath the ideal. probably the whole mode of thought of the nations must be altered before physical progress is possible. not while money, furniture, affected show and the pageantry of wealth are the ambitions of the multitude can the multitude become ideal in form. when the ambition of the multitude is fixed on the ideal of form and beauty, then that ideal will become immediately possible, and a marked advance towards it could be made in three generations. glad, indeed, should i be to discover something that would help towards this end. how pleasant it would be each day to think, to-day i have done something that will tend to render future generations more happy. the very thought would make this hour sweeter. it is absolutely necessary that something of this kind should be discovered. first, we must lay down the axiom that as yet nothing has been found; we have nothing to start with; all has to be begun afresh. all courses or methods of human life have hitherto been failures. some course of life is needed based on things that are, irrespective of tradition. the physical ideal must be kept steadily in view. chapter viii an enumeration of the useless would almost be an enumeration of everything hitherto pursued. for instance, to go back as far as possible, the study and labour expended on egyptian inscriptions and papyri, which contain nothing but doubtful, because laudatory history, invocations to idols, and similar matters: all these labours are in vain. take a broom and sweep the papyri away into the dust. the assyrian terra-cotta tablets, some recording fables, and some even sadder--contracts between men whose bodies were dust twenty centuries since--take a hammer and demolish them. set a battery to beat down the pyramids, and a mind-battery to destroy the deadening influence of tradition. the greek statue lives to this day, and has the highest use of all, the use of true beauty. the greek and roman philosophers have the value of furnishing the mind with material to think from. egyptian and assyrian, mediaeval and eighteenth-century culture, miscalled, are all alike mere dust, and absolutely useless. there is a mass of knowledge so called at the present day equally useless, and nothing but an encumbrance. we are forced by circumstances to become familiar with it, but the time expended on it is lost. no physical ideal--far less any soul-ideal--will ever be reached by it. in a recent generation erudition in the text of the classics was considered the most honourable of pursuits; certainly nothing could be less valuable. in our own generation, another species of erudition is lauded--erudition in the laws of matter--which, in itself, is but one degree better. the study of matter for matter's sake is despicable; if any can turn that study to advance the ideal of life, it immediately becomes most valuable. but not without the human ideal. it is nothing to me if the planets revolve around the sun, or the sun around the earth, unless i can thereby gather an increase of body or mind. as the conception of the planets revolving around the sun, the present astronomical conception of the heavens, is distinctly grander than that of ptolemy, it is therefore superior, and a gain to the human mind. so with other sciences, not immediately useful, yet if they furnish the mind with material of thought, they are an advance. but not in themselves--only in conjunction with the human ideal. once let that slip out of the thought, and science is of no more use than the invocations in the egyptian papyri. the world would be the gainer if the nile rose and swept away pyramid and tomb, sarcophagus, papyri, and inscription; for it seems as if most of the superstitions which still to this hour, in our own country, hold minds in their sway, originated in egypt. the world would be the gainer if a nile flood of new thought arose and swept away the past, concentrating the effort of all the races of the earth upon man's body, that it might reach an ideal of shape, and health, and happiness. nothing is of any use unless it gives me a stronger body and mind, a more beautiful body, a happy existence, and a soul-life now. the last phase of philosophy is equally useless with the rest. the belief that the human mind was evolved, in the process of unnumbered years, from a fragment of palpitating slime through a thousand gradations, is a modern superstition, and proceeds upon assumption alone. nothing is evolved, no evolution takes place, there is no record of such an event; it is pure assertion. the theory fascinates many, because they find, upon study of physiology, that the gradations between animal and vegetable are so fine and so close together, as if a common web bound them together. but although they stand so near they never change places. they are like the figures on the face of a clock; there are minute dots between, apparently connecting each with the other, and the hands move round over all. yet ten never becomes twelve, and each second even is parted from the next, as you may hear by listening to the beat. so the gradations of life, past and present, though standing close together never change places. nothing is evolved. there is no evolution any more than there is any design in nature. by standing face to face with nature, and not from books, i have convinced myself that there is no design and no evolution. what there is, what was the cause, how and why, is not yet known; certainly it was neither of these. but it may be argued the world must have been created, or it must have been made of existing things, or it must have been evolved, or it must have existed for ever, through all eternity. i think not. i do not think that either of these are "musts," nor that any "must" has yet been discovered; not even that there "must" be a first cause. there may be other things--other physical forces even--of which we know nothing. i strongly suspect there are. there may be other ideas altogether from any we have hitherto had the use of. for many ages our ideas have been confined to two or three. we have conceived the idea of creation, which is the highest and grandest of all, if not historically true; we have conceived the idea of design, that is of an intelligence making order and revolution of chaos; and we have conceived the idea of evolution by physical laws of matter, which, though now so much insisted on, is as ancient as the greek philosophers. but there may be another alternative; i think there are other alternatives. whenever the mind obtains a wider view we may find that origin. for instance, is not always due to what is understood by cause. at this moment the mind is unable to conceive of anything happening, or of anything coming into existence, without a cause. from cause to effect is the sequence of our ideas. but i think that if at some time we should obtain an altogether different and broader sequence of ideas, we may discover that there are various other alternatives. as the world, and the universe at large, was not constructed according to plan, so it is clear that the sequence or circle of ideas which includes plan, and cause, and effect, are not in the circle of ideas which would correctly explain it. put aside the plan-circle of ideas, and it will at once be evident that there is no inherent necessity or "must." there is no inherent necessity for a first cause, or that the world and the universe was created, or that it was shaped of existing matter, or that it evolved itself and its inhabitants, or that the cosmos has existed in varying forms for ever. there may be other alternatives altogether. the only idea i can give is the idea that there is another idea. in this "must"--"it must follow"--lies my objection to the logic of science. the arguments proceed from premises to conclusions, and end with the assumption "it therefore follows." but i say that, however carefully the argument be built up, even though apparently flawless, there is no such thing at present as "it must follow." human ideas at present naturally form a plan, and a balanced design; they might be indicated by a geometrical figure, an upright straight line in the centre, and branching from that straight line curves on either hand exactly equal to each other. in drawing that is how we are taught, to balance the outline or curves on one side with the curves on the other. in nature and in fact there is no such thing. the stem of a tree represents the upright line, but the branches do not balance; those on one side are larger or longer than those on the other. nothing is straight, but all things curved, crooked, and unequal. the human body is the most remarkable instance of inequality, lack of balance, and want of plan. the exterior is beautiful in its lines, but the two hands, the two feet, the two sides of the face, the two sides of the profile, are not precisely equal. the very nails of the fingers are set ajar, as it were, to the lines of the hand, and not quite straight. examination of the interior organs shows a total absence of balance. the heart is not in the centre, nor do the organs correspond in any way. the viscera are wholly opposed to plan. coming, lastly, to the bones, these have no humanity, as it were, of shape; they are neither round nor square; the first sight of them causes a sense of horror, so extra-human are they in shape; there is no balance of design in them. these are very brief examples, but the whole universe, so far as it can be investigated, is equally unequal. no straight line runs through it, with balanced curves each side. let this thought now be carried into the realms of thought. the mind, or circle, or sequence of ideas, acts, or thinks, or exists in a balance, or what seems a balance to it. a straight line of thought is set in the centre, with equal branches each side, and with a generally rounded outline. but this corresponds to nothing in tangible fact. hence i think, by analogy, we may suppose that neither does it correspond to the circle of ideas which caused us and all things to be, or, at all events, to the circle of ideas which accurately understand us and all things. there are other ideas altogether. from standing face to face so long with the real earth, the real sun, and the real sea, i am firmly convinced that there is an immense range of thought quite unknown to us yet. the problem of my own existence also convinces me that there is much more. the questions are: did my soul exist before my body was formed? or did it come into life with my body, as a product, like a flame, of combustion? what will become of it after death? will it simply go out like a flame and become non-existent, or will it live for ever in one or other mode? to these questions i am unable to find any answer whatsoever. in our present range of ideas there is no reply to them. i may have previously existed; i may not have previously existed. i may be a product of combustion; i may exist on after physical life is suspended, or i may not. no demonstration is possible. but what i want to say is that the alternatives of extinction or immortality may not be the only alternatives. there may be something else, more wonderful than immortality, and far beyond and above that idea. there may be something immeasurably superior to it. as our ideas have run in circles for centuries, it is difficult to find words to express the idea that there are other ideas. for myself, though i cannot fully express myself, i feel fully convinced that there is a vast immensity of thought, of existence, and of other things beyond even immortal existence. chapter ix in human affairs everything happens by chance--that is, in defiance of human ideas, and without any direction of an intelligence. a man bathes in a pool, a crocodile seizes and lacerates his flesh. if any one maintains that an intelligence directed that cruelty, i can only reply that his mind is under an illusion. a man is caught by a revolving shaft and torn to pieces, limb from limb. there is no directing intelligence in human affairs, no protection, and no assistance. those who act uprightly are not rewarded, but they and their children often wander in the utmost indigence. those who do evil are not always punished, but frequently flourish and have happy children. rewards and punishments are purely human institutions, and if government be relaxed they entirely disappear. no intelligence whatever interferes in human affairs. there is a most senseless belief now prevalent that effort, and work, and cleverness, perseverance and industry, are invariably successful. were this the case, every man would enjoy a competence, at least, and be free from the cares of money. this is an illusion almost equal to the superstition of a directing intelligence, which every fact and every consideration disproves. how can i adequately express my contempt for the assertion that all things occur for the best, for a wise and beneficent end, and are ordered by a humane intelligence! it is the most utter falsehood and a crime against the human race. even in my brief time i have been contemporary with events of the most horrible character; as when the mothers in the balkans cast their own children from the train to parish in the snow; as when the princess alice foundered, and six hundred human beings were smothered in foul water; as when the hecatomb of two thousand maidens were burned in the church at santiago; as when the miserable creatures tore at the walls of the vienna theatre. consider only the fates which overtake the little children. human suffering is so great, so endless, so awful that i can hardly write of it. i could not go into hospitals and face it, as some do, lest my mind should be temporarily overcome. the whole and the worst the worst pessimist can say is far beneath the least particle of the truth, so immense is the misery of man. it is the duty of all rational beings to acknowledge the truth. there is not the least trace of directing intelligence in human affairs. this is a foundation of hope, because, if the present condition of things were ordered by a superior power, there would be no possibility of improving it for the better in the spite of that power. acknowledging that no such direction exists, all things become at once plastic to our will. the credit given by the unthinking to the statement that all affairs are directed has been the bane of the world since the days of the egyptian papyri and the origin of superstition. so long as men firmly believe that everything is fixed for them, so long is progress impossible. if you argue yourself into the belief that you cannot walk to a place, you cannot walk there. but if you start you can walk there easily. any one who will consider the affairs of the world at large, and of the individual, will see that they do not proceed in the manner they would do for our own happiness if a man of humane breadth of view were placed at their head with unlimited power, such as is credited to the intelligence which does not exist. a man of intellect and humanity could cause everything to happen in an infinitely superior manner. could one like the divine julius--humane, generous, broadest of view, deep thinking--wield such power, certainly every human being would enjoy happiness. but that which is thoughtlessly credited to a non-existent intelligence should really be claimed and exercised by the human race. it is ourselves who should direct our affairs, protecting ourselves from pain, assisting ourselves, succouring and rendering our lives happy. we must do for ourselves what superstition has hitherto supposed an intelligence to do for us. nothing whatsoever is done for us. we are born naked, and not even protected by a shaggy covering. nothing is done for us. the first and strongest command (using the word to convey the idea only) that nature, the universe, our own bodies give, is to do everything for ourselves. the sea does not make boats for us, nor the earth of her own will build us hospitals. the injured lie bleeding, and no invisible power lifts them up. the maidens were scorched in the midst of their devotions, and their remains make a mound hundreds of yards long. the infants perished in the snow, and the ravens tore their limbs. those in the theatre crushed each other to the death--agony. for how long, for how many thousand years, must the earth and the sea, and the fire and the air, utter these things and force them upon us before they are admitted in their full significance? these things speak with a voice of thunder. from every human being whose body has been racked by pain; from every human being who has suffered from accident or disease; from every human being drowned, burned, or slain by negligence, there goes up a continually increasing cry louder than the thunder. an awe-inspiring cry dread to listen to, which no one dares listen to, against which ears are stopped by the wax of superstition and the wax of criminal selfishness:--these miseries are your doing, because you have mind and though, and could have prevented them. you can prevent them in the future. you do not even try. it is perfectly certain that all diseases without exception are preventable, or, if not so, that they can be so weakened as to do no harm. it is perfectly certain that all accidents are preventable; there is not one that does not arise from folly or negligence. all accidents are crimes. it is perfectly certain that all human beings are capable of physical happiness. it is absolutely incontrovertible that the ideal shape of the human being is attainable to the exclusion of deformities. it is incontrovertible that there is no necessity for any man to die but of old age, and that if death cannot be prevented life can be prolonged far beyond the farthest now known. it is incontrovertible that at the present time no one ever dies of old age. not one single person ever dies of old age, or of natural causes, for there is no such thing as a natural cause of death. they die of disease or weakness which is the result of disease either in themselves or in their ancestors. no such thing as old age is known to us. we do not even know what old age would be like, because no one ever lives to it. our bodies are full of unsuspected flaws, handed down it may be for thousands of years, and it is of these that we die, and not of natural decay. till these are eliminated, or as nearly eliminated as possible, we shall never even know what true old age is like, nor what the true natural limit of human life is. the utmost limit now appears to be about one hundred and five years, but as each person who has got so far has died of weaknesses inherited through thousands of years, it is impossible to say to what number of years he would have reached in a natural state. it seems more than possible that true old age--the slow and natural decay of the body apart from inherited flaw--would be free from very many, if not all, of the petty miseries which now render extreme age a doubtful blessing. if the limbs grew weaker they would not totter; if the teeth dropped it would not be till the last; if the eyes were less strong they would not be quite dim; nor would the mind lose its memory. but now we see eyes become dim and artifical aid needed in comparative youth, and teeth drop out in mere childhood. many men and women lose teeth before they are twenty. this simple fact is evidence enough of inherited weakness or flaw. how could a person who had lost teeth before twenty be ever said to die of old age, though he died at a hundred and ten? death is not a supernatural event; it is an event of the most materialistic character, and may certainly be postponed, by the united efforts of the human race, to a period far more distant from the date of birth than has been the case during the historic period. the question has often been debated in my mind whether death is or is not wholly preventable; whether, if the entire human race were united in their efforts to eliminate causes of decay, death might not also be altogether eliminated. if we consider ourselves by the analogy of animals, trees, and other living creatures, the reply is that, however postponed, in long process of time the tissues must wither. suppose an ideal man, free from inherited flaw, then though his age might be prolonged to several centuries, in the end the natural body must wear out. that is true so far. but it so happens that the analogy is not just, and therefore the conclusions it points to are not tenable. man is altogether different from every other animal, every other living creature known. he is different in body. in his purely natural state--in his true natural state--he is immeasurably stronger. no animal approaches to the physical perfection of which a man is capable. he can weary the strongest horse, he can outrun the swiftest stag, he can bear extremes of heat and cold hunger and thirst, which would exterminate every known living thing. merely in bodily strength he is superior to all. the stories of antiquity, which were deemed fables, may be fables historically, but search has shown that they are not intrinsically fables. man of flesh and blood is capable of all that ajax, all that hercules did. feats in modern days have surpassed these, as when webb swam the channel; mythology contains nothing equal to that. the difference does not end here. animals think to a certain extent, but if their conceptions be ever so clever, not having hands they cannot execute them. i myself maintain that the mind of man is practically infinite. it can understand anything brought before it. it has not the power of its own motion to bring everything before it, but when anything is brought it is understood. it is like sitting in a room with one window; you cannot compel everything to pass the window, but whatever does pass is seen. it is like a magnifying glass, which magnifies and explains everything brought into its focus. the mind of man is infinite. beyond this, man has a soul. i do not use this word in the common sense which circumstances have given to it. i use it as the only term to express that inner consciousness which aspires. these brief reasons show that the analogy is imperfect, and that therefore, although an ideal animal--a horse, a dog, a lion--must die, it does not follow that an ideal man must. he has a body possessed of exceptional recuperative powers, which, under proper conditions, continually repairs itself. he has a mind by which he can select remedies, and select his course and carefully restore the waste of tissue. he has a soul, as yet, it seems to me, lying in abeyance, by the aid of which he may yet discover things now deemed supernatural. considering these things i am obliged by facts and incontrovertible argument to conclude that death is not inevitable to the ideal man. he is shaped for a species of physical immortality. the beauty of form of the ideal human being indicates immortality--the contour, the curve, the outline answer to the idea of life. in the course of ages united effort long continued may eliminate those causes of decay which have grown up in ages past, and after that has been done advance farther and improve the natural state. as a river brings down suspended particles of sand, and depositing them at its mouth forms a delta and a new country; as the air and the rain and the heat of the sun desiccate the rocks and slowly wear down mountains into sand, so the united action of the human race, continued through centuries, may build up the ideal man and woman. each individual labouring in his day through geological time in front must produce an effect. the instance of sparta, where so much was done in a few centuries, is almost proof of it. the truth is, we die through our ancestors; we are murdered by our ancestors. their dead hands stretch forth from the tomb and drag us down to their mouldering bones. we in our turn are now at this moment preparing death for our unborn posterity. this day those that die do not die in the sense of old age, they are slain. nothing has been accumulated for our benefit in ages past. all the labour and the toil of so many millions continued through such vistas of time, down to those millions who at this hour are rushing to and fro in london, has accumulated nothing for us. nothing for our good. the only things that have been stored up have been for our evil and destruction, diseases and weaknesses crossed and cultivated and rendered almost part and parcel of our very bones. now let us begin to roll back the tide of death, and to set our faces steadily to a future of life. it should be the sacred and sworn duty of every one, once at least during lifetime, to do something in person towards this end. it would be a delight and pleasure to me to do something every day, were it ever so minute. to reflect that another human being, if at a distance of ten thousand years from the year , would enjoy one hour's more life, in the sense of fulness of life, in consequence of anything i had done in my little span, would be to me a peace of soul. chapter x united effort through geological time in front is but the beginning of an idea. i am convinced that much more can be done, and that the length of time may be almost immeasurably shortened. the general principles that are now in operation are of the simplest and most elementary character, yet they have already made considerable difference. i am not content with these. there must be much more--there must be things which are at present unknown by whose aid advance may be made. research proceeds upon the same old lines and runs in the ancient grooves. further, it is restricted by the ultra-practical views which are alone deemed reasonable. but there should be no limit placed on the mind. the purely ideal is as worthy of pursuit as the practical, and the mind is not to be pinned to dogmas of science any more than to dogmas of superstition. most injurious of all is the continuous circling on the same path, and it is from this that i wish to free my mind. the pursuit of theory--the organon of pure thought--has led incidentally to great discoveries, and for myself i am convinced it is of the highest value. the process of experiment has produced much, and has applied what was previously found. empiricism is worthy of careful re-working out, for it is a fact that most things are more or less empirical, especially in medicine. denial may be given to this statement, nevertheless it is true, and i have had practical exemplification of it in my own experience. observation is perhaps more powerful an organon than either experiment or empiricism. if the eye is always watching, and the mind on the alert, ultimately chance supplies the solution. the difficulties i have encountered have generally been solved by chance in this way. when i took an interest in archaeological matters--an interest long since extinct--i considered that a part of an army known to have marched in a certain direction during the civil war must have visited a town in which i was interested. but i exhausted every mode of research in vain; there was no evidence of it. if the knowledge had ever existed it had dropped again. some years afterwards, when my interest had ceased, and i had put such inquiries for ever aside (being useless, like the egyptian papyri), i was reading in the british museum. presently i returned my book to the shelf, and then slowly walked along the curving wall lined with volumes, looking to see if i could light on anything to amuse me. i took out a volume for a glance; it opened of itself at a certain page, and there was the information i had so long sought--a reprint of an old pamphlet describing the visit of the army to the town in the civil war. so chance answered the question in the course of time. and i think that, seeing how great a part chance plays in human affairs, it is essential that study should be made of chance; it seems to me that an organon from experiment. then there is the inner consciousness--the psyche--that has never yet been brought to bear upon life and its questions. besides which there is a super-sensuous reason. often i have argued with myself that such and such a course was the right one to follow, while in the intervals of thinking about it an undercurrent of unconscious impulse has desired me to do the reverse or to remain inactive. sometimes it has happened that the supersensuous reasoning has been correct, and the most faultless argument wrong. i presume this supersensuous reasoning, preceeding independently in the mind, arises from perceptions too delicate for analysis. from these considerations alone i am convinced that, by the aid of ideas yet to be discovered, the geological time in front may be immeasurably shortened. these modes of research are not all. the psyche--the soul in me--tells me that there is much more, that these are merely beginnings of the crudest kind. i fully recognise the practical difficulty arising from the ingrained, hereditary, and unconscious selfishness which began before history, and has been crossed and cultivated for twelve thousand years since. this renders me less sanguine of united effort through geological time ahead, unless some idea can be formed to give a stronger impulse even than selfishness, or unless the selfishness can be utilised. the complacency with which the mass of people go about their daily task, absolutely indifferent to all other considerations, is appalling in its concentrated stolidity. they do not intend wrong--they intend rightly: in truth, they work against the entire human race. so wedded and so confirmed is the world in its narrow groove of self, so stolid and so complacent under the immense weight of misery, so callous to its own possibilities, and so grown to its chains, that i almost despair to see it awakened. cemeteries are often placed on hillsides, and the white stones are visible far off. if the whole of the dead in a hillside cemetery were called up alive from their tombs, and walked forth down into the valley, it would not rouse the mass of people from the dense pyramid of stolidity which presses on them. there would be gaping and marvelling and rushing about, and what then? in a week or two the ploughman would settle down to his plough, the carpenter to his bench, the smith to his anvil, the merchant to his money, and the dead come to life would be utterly forgotten. no matter in what manner the possibilities of human life are put before the world, the crowd continues as stolid as before. therefore nothing hitherto done, or suggested, or thought of, is of much avail; but this fact in no degree stays me from the search. on the contrary, the less there has been accomplished the more anxious i am; the truth it teaches is that the mind must be lifted out of its old grooves before anything will be certainly begun. erase the past from the mind--stand face to face with the real now--and work out all anew. call the soul to our assistance; the soul tells me that outside all the ideas that have yet occurred there are others, whole circles of others. i remember a cameo of augustus caesar--the head of the emperor is graven in delicate lines, and shows the most exquisite proportions. it is a balanced head, a head adjusted to the calmest intellect. that head when it was living contained a circle of ideas, the largest, the widest, the most profound current in his time. all that philosophy had taught, all that practice, experiment, and empiricism had discovered, was familiar to him. there was no knowledge in the ancient world but what was accessible to the emperor of rome. now at this day there are amongst us heads as finely proportioned as that cut out in the cameo. though these living men do not possess arbitrary power, the advantages of arbitrary power--as far as knowledge is concerned--are secured to them by education, by the printing-press, and the facilities of our era. it is reasonable to imagine a head of our time filled with the largest, the widest, the most profound ideas current in the age. augustus caesar, however great his intellect, could not in that balanced head have possessed the ideas familiar enough to the living head of this day. as we have a circle of ideas unknown to augustus caesar, so i argue there are whole circles of ideas unknown to us. it is these that i am so earnestly desirous of discovering. for nothing has as yet been of any value, however good its intent. there is no virtue, or reputed virtue, which has not been rigidly pursued, and things have remained as before. men and women have practised self-denial, and to what end? they have compelled themselves to suffer hunger and thirst; in vain. they have clothed themselves in sack cloth and lacerated the flesh. they have mutilated themselves. some have been scrupulous to bathe, and some have been scrupulous to cake their bodies with the foulness of years. many have devoted their lives to assist others in sickness or poverty. chastity has been faithfully observed, chastity both of body and mind. self-examination has been pursued till it ended in a species of sacred insanity, and all these have been of no more value than the tortures undergone by the indian mendicant who hangs himself up by a hook through his back. all these are pure folly. asceticism has not improved the form, or the physical well-being, or the heart of any human being. on the contrary, the hetaira is often the warmest hearted and the most generous. casuistry and self-examination are perhaps the most injurious of all the virtues, utterly destroying independence of mind. self-denial has had no result, and all the self-torture of centuries has been thrown away. lives spent in doing good have been lives nobly wasted. everything is in vain. the circle of ideas we possess is too limited to aid us. we need ideas as far outside our circle as ours are outside those that were pondered over by augustus caesar. the most extraordinary spectacle, as it seems to me, is the vast expenditure of labour and time wasted in obtaining mere subsistence. as a man, in his lifetime, works hard and saves money, that his children may be free from the cares of penury and may at least have sufficient to eat, drink, clothe, and roof them, so the generations that preceded us might, had they so chosen, have provided for our subsistence. the labour and time of ten generations, properly directed, would sustain a hundred generations succeeding to them, and that, too, with so little self-denial on the part of the providers as to be scarcely felt. so men now, in this generation, ought clearly to be laying up a store, or, what is still more powerful, arranging and organising that the generations which follow may enjoy comparative freedom from useless labour. instead of which, with transcendent improvidence, the world works only for to-day, as the world worked twelve thousand years ago, and our children's children will still have to toil and slave for the bare necessities of life. this is, indeed an extraordinary spectacle. that twelve thousand written years should have elapsed, and the human race--able to reason and to think, and easily capable of combination in immense armies for its own destruction--should still live from hand to mouth, like cattle and sheep, like the animals of the field and the birds of the woods; that there should not even be roofs to cover the children born, unless those children labour and expend their time to pay for them; that there should not be clothes, unless, again, time and labour are expended to procure them; that there should not be even food for the children of the human race, except they labour as their fathers did twelve thousand years ago; that even water should scarce be accessible to them, unless paid for by labour! in twelve thousand written years the world has not yet built itself a house, nor filled a granary, nor organised itself for its own comfort. it is so marvellous i cannot express the wonder with which it fills me. and more wonderful still, if that could be, there are people so infatuated, or, rather, so limited of view, that they glory in this state of things, declaring that work is the main object of man's existence--work for subsistence--and glorying in their wasted time. to argue with such is impossible; to leave them is the only resource. this our earth this day produces sufficient for our existence. this our earth produces not only a sufficiency, but a superabundance, and pours a cornucopia of good things down upon us. further, it produces sufficient for stores and granaries to be filled to the rooftree for years ahead. i verily believe that the earth in one year produces enough food to last for thirty. why, then, have we not enough? why do people die of starvation, or lead a miserable existence on the verge of it? why have millions upon millions to toil from morning to evening just to gain a mere crust of bread? because of the absolute lack of organisation by which such labour should produce its effect, the absolute lack of distribution, the absolute lack even of the very idea that such things are possible. nay, even to mention such things, to say that they are possible, is criminal with many. madness could hardly go farther. that selfishness has all to do with it i entirely deny. the human race for ages upon ages has been enslaved by ignorance and by interested persons whose object it has been to confine the minds of men, thereby doing more injury than if with infected hands they purposely imposed disease on the heads of the people. almost worse than these, and at the present day as injurious, are those persons incessantly declaring, teaching, and impressing upon all that to work is man's highest condition. this falsehood is the interested superstition of an age infatuated with money, which having accumulated it cannot even expend it in pageantry. it is a falsehood propagated for the doubtful benefit of two or three out of ten thousand, it is the lie of a morality founded on money only, and utterly outside and having no association whatever with the human being in itself. many superstitions have been got rid of in these days; time it is that this, the last and worst, were eradicated. at this hour, out of thirty-four millions who inhabit this country, two-thirds--say twenty-two millions--live within thirty years of that abominable institution the poorhouse. that any human being should dare to apply to another the epithet "pauper" is, to me, the greatest, the vilest, the most unpardonable crime that could be committed. each human being, by mere birth, has a birthright in this earth and all its productions; and if they do not receive it, then it is they who are injured, and it is not the "pauper"--oh, inexpressibly wicked word!--it is the well-to-do, who are the criminal classes. it matters not in the least if the poor be improvident, or drunken, or evil in any way. food and drink, roof and clothes, are the inalienable right of every child born into the light. if the world does not provide it freely--not as a grudging gift but as a right, as a son of the house sits down to breakfast--then is the world mad. but the world is not mad, only in ignorance--an interested ignorance, kept up by strenuous exertions, from which infernal darkness it will, in course of time, emerge, marvelling at the past as a man wonders at and glories in the light who has escaped from blindness. chapter xi this our earth produces not only a sufficiency a superabundance, but in one year pours a cornucopia of good things forth, enough to fill us for many years in succession. the only reason we do not enjoy it is the want of rational organisation. i know, of course, and all who think know, that some labour or supervision will always necessary, since the plough must travel the furrow and the seed must must be sown; but i maintain that a tenth, nay, a hundredth, part of the labour and slavery now gone through will be sufficient, and that in the course of time, as organisation perfects itself and discoveries advance, even that part will diminish. for the rise and fall of the tides alone furnish forth sufficient power to do automatically all the labour that is done on the earth. is ideal man, then, to be idle? i answer that, if so, i see no wrong, but a great good. i deny altogether that idleness is an evil, or that it produces evil, and i am well aware why the interested are so bitter against idleness--namely, because it gives time for thought, and if men had time to think their reign would come to an end. idleness--that is, the absence of the necessity to work for subsistence--is a great good. i hope succeeding generations will be able to be ideal. i hope that nine-tenths of their time will be leisure time; that they may enjoy their days, and the earth, and the beauty of this beautiful world; that they may rest by the sea and dream; that they may dance and sing, and eat and drink. i will work towards that end with all my heart. if employment they must have--and the restlessness of the mind will insure that some will be followed--then they will find scope enough in the perfection of their physical frames, in the expansion of the mind, and in the enlargement of the soul. they shall not work for bread, but for their souls. i am willing to divide and share all i shall ever have for this purpose, though i think the end will rather be gained by organisation than by sharing alone. in these material things, too, i think that we require another circle of ideas, and i believe that such ideas are possible, and, in a manner of speaking, exist. let me exhort every one to do their utmost to think outside and beyond our present circle of ideas. for every idea gained is a hundred years of slavery remitted. even with the idea of organisation which promises most i am not satisfied, but endeavour to get beyond and outside it, so that the time now necessary may be shortened. besides which, i see that many of our difficulties arise from obscure and remote causes--obscure like the shape of bones, for whose strange curves there is no familiar term. we must endeavour to understand the crookedness and unfamiliar curves of the conditions of life. beyond that still there are other ideas. never, never rest contented with any circle of ideas, but always be certain that a wider one is still possible. for my thought is like a hyperbola that continually widens ascending. for grief there is no known consolation. it is useless to fill our hearts with bubbles. a loved one gone is gone, and as to the future--even if there is a future--it is unknown. to assure ourselves otherwise is to soothe the mind with illusions; the bitterness of it is inconsolable. the sentiments of trust chipped out on tombstones are touching instances of the innate goodness of the human heart, which naturally longs for good, and sighs itself to sleep in the hope that, if parted, the parting is for the benefit of those that are gone. but these inscriptions are also awful instances of the deep intellectual darkness which presses still on the minds of men. the least thought erases them. there is no consolation. there is no relief. there is no hope certain; the whole system is a mere illusion. i, who hope so much, and am so rapt up in the soul, know full well that there is no certainty. the tomb cries aloud to us--its dead silence presses on the drum of the ear like thunder, saying, look at this, and erase your illusions; now know the extreme value of human life; reflect on this and strew human life with flowers; save every hour for the sunshine; let your labour be so ordered that in future times the loved ones may dwell longer with those who love them; open your minds; exalt your souls; widen the sympathies of your hearts; face the things that are now as you will face the reality of death; make joy real now to those you love, and help forward the joy of those yet to be born. let these facts force the mind and the soul to the increase of thought, and the consequent remission of misery; so that those whose time it is to die may have enjoyed all that is possible in life. lift up your mind and see now in this bitterness of parting, in this absence of certainty, the fact that there is no directing intelligence; remember that this death is not of old age, which no one living in the world has ever seen; remember that old age is possible, and perhaps even more than old age; and beyond these earthly things-what? none know. but let us, turning away from the illusion of a directing intelligence, look earnestly for something better than a god, seek for something higher than prayer, and lift our souls to be with the more than immortal now. a river runs itself clear during the night, and in sleep thought becomes pellucid. all the hurrying to and fro, the unrest and stress, the agitation and confusion subside. like a sweet pure spring, thought pours forth to meet the light, and is illumined to its depths. the dawn at my window ever causes a desire for larger thought, the recognition of the light at the moment of waking kindles afresh the wish for a broad day of the mind. there is a certainty that there are yet ideas further, and greater--that there is still a limitless beyond. i know at that moment that there is no limit to the things that may be yet in material and tangible shape besides the immaterial perceptions of the soul. the dim white light of the dawn speaks it. this prophet which has come with its wonders to the bedside of every human being for so many thousands of years faces me once again with the upheld finger of light. where is the limit to that physical sign? from space to the sky, from the sky to the hills, and the sea; to every blade of grass, to every leaf, to the smallest insect, to the million waves of ocean. yet this earth itself appears but a mote in that sunbeam by which we are conscious of one narrow streak in the abyss. a beam crosses my silent chamber from the window, and atoms are visible in it; a beam slants between the fir-trees, and particles rise and fall within, and cross it while the air each side seems void. through the heavens a beam slants, and we are aware of the star-stratum in which our earth moves. but what may be without that stratum? certainly it is not a void. this light tells us much, but i think in the course of time yet more delicate and subtle mediums than light may be found, and through these we shall see into the shadows of the sky. when will it be possible to be certain that the capacity of a single atom has been exhausted? at any moment some fortunate incident may reveal a fresh power. one by one the powers of light have been unfolded. after thousands of years the telescope opened the stars, the prism analysed the substance of the sun, the microscope showed the minute structure of the rocks and the tissues of living bodies. the winged men on the assyrian bas-reliefs, the gods of the nile, the chariot-borne immortals of olympus, not the greatest of imagined beings ever possessed in fancied attributes one-tenth the power of light. as the swallows twitter, the dim white finger appears at my window full of wonders, such as all the wise men in twelve thousand precedent years never even hoped to conceive. but this is not all--light is not all; light conceals more than it reveals; light is the darkest shadow of the sky; besides light there are many other mediums yet to be explored. for thousands of years the sunbeams poured on the earth, full as now of messages, and light is not a hidden thing to be searched out with difficulty. full in the faces of men the rays came with their intelligence from the sun when the papyri were painted beside the ancient nile, but they were not understood. this hour, rays or undulations of more subtle mediums are doubtless pouring on us over the wide earth, unrecognised, and full of messages and intelligence from the unseen. of these we are this day as ignorant as those who painted the papyri were of light. there is an infinity of knowledge yet to be known, and beyond that an infinity of thought. no mental instrument even has yet been invented by which researches can be carried direct to the object. whatever has been found has been discovered by fortunate accident; in looking for one thing another has been chanced on. a reasoning process has yet to be invented by which to go straight to the desired end. for now the slightest particle is enough to throw the search aside, and the most minute circumstance sufficient to conceal obvious and brilliantly shining truths. one summer evening sitting by my window i watched for the first star to appear, knowing the position of the brightest in the southern sky. the dusk came on, grew deeper, but the star did not shine. by-and-by, other stars less bright appeared, so that it could not be the sunset which obscured the expected one. finally, i considered that i must have mistaken its position, when suddenly a puff of air blew through the branch of a pear-tree which overhung the window, a leaf moved, and there was the star behind the leaf. at present the endeavour to make discoveries is like gazing at the sky up through the boughs of an oak. here a beautiful star shines clearly; here a constellation is hidden by a branch; a universe by a leaf. some mental instrument or organon is required to enable us to distinguish between the leaf which may be removed and a real void; when to cease to look in one direction, and to work in another. many men of broad brow and great intellect lived in the days of ancient greece, but for lack of the accident of a lens, and of knowing the way to use a prism, they could but conjecture imperfectly. i am in exactly the position they were when i look beyond light. outside my present knowledge i am exactly in their condition. i feel that there are infinities to be known, but they are hidden by a leaf. if any one says to himself that the telescope, and the microscope, the prism, and other discoveries have made all plain, then he is in the attitude of those ancient priests who worshipped the scarabaeus or beetle. so, too, it is with thought; outside our present circle of ideas i believe there is an infinity of idea. all this that has been effected with light has been done by bits of glass--mere bits of shaped glass, quickly broken, and made of flint, so that by the rude flint our subtlest ideas are gained. could we employ the ocean as a lens, and force truth from the sky, even then i think there would be much more beyond. natural things are known to us only under two conditions--matter and force, or matter and motion. a third, a fourth, a fifth--no one can say how many conditions--may exist in the ultra-stellar space, and such other conditions may equally exist about us now unsuspected. something which is neither matter nor force is difficult to conceive, yet, i think, it is certain that there are other conditions. when the mind succeeds in entering on a wider series, or circle of ideas, other conditions would appear natural enough. in this effort upwards i claim the assistance of the soul--the mind of the mind. the eye sees, the mind deliberates on what it sees, the soul understands the operation of the mind. before a bridge is built, or a structure erected, or an interoceanic canal made, there must be a plan, and before a plan the thought in the mind. so that it is correct to say the mind bores tunnels through the mountains, bridges the rivers, and constructs the engines which are the pride of the world. this is a wonderful tool, but it is capable of work yet more wonderful in the exploration of the heavens. now the soul is the mind of the mind. it can build and construct and look beyond and penetrate space, and create. it is the keenest, the sharpest tool possessed by man. but what would be said if a carpenter about to commence a piece of work examined his tools and deliberately cast away that with the finest edge? such is the conduct of those who reject the inner mind or psyche altogether. so great is the value of the soul that it seems to me, if the soul lived and received its aspirations it would not matter if the material universe melted away as snow. many turn aside the instant the soul is mentioned, and i sympathise with them in one sense; they fear lest, if they acknowledge it, they will be fettered by mediaeval conditions. my contention is that the restrictions of the mediaeval era should entirely be cast into oblivion, but the soul recognised and employed. instead of slurring over the soul, i desire to see it at its highest perfection. chapter xii subtle as the mind is, it can effect little without knowledge. it cannot construct a bridge, or a building, or make a canal, or work a problem in algebra, unless it is provided with information. this is obvious, and yet some say, what can you effect by the soul? i reply because it has had no employment. mediaeval conditions kept it in slumber: science refuses to accept it. we are taught to employ our minds, and furnished with materials. the mind has its logic and exercise of geometry, and thus assisted brings a great force to the solution of problems. the soul remains untaught, and can effect little. i consider that the highest purpose of study is the education of the soul or psyche. it is said that there is no proof of the existence of the soul, but, arguing on the same grounds, there is no proof of the existence of the mind, which is not a tangible thing. for myself, i feel convinced that there is a soul, a mind of the mind--and that it really exists. now, glancing at the state of wild and uneducated men, it is evident that they work with their hands and make various things almost instinctively. but when they arrive at the idea of mind, and say to themselves, i possess a mind, then they think and proceed farther, forming designs and constructions both tangible and mental. next then, when we say, i have a soul, we can proceed to shape things yet further, and to see deeper, and penetrate the mystery. by denying the existence and the power of the soul--refusing to employ it--we should go back more than twelve thousand written years of human history. but instead of this, i contend, we should endeavour to go forward, and to discover a fourth idea, and after that a fifth, and onwards continually. i will not permit myself to be taken captive by observing physical phenomena, as many evidently are. some gases are mingled and produce a liquid; certainly it is worth careful investigation, but it is no more than the revolution of a wheel, which is so often seen that it excites no surprise, though, in truth, as wonderful. so is all motion, and so is a grain of sand; there is nothing that is not wonderful; as, for instance, the fact of the existence of things at all. but the intense concentration of the mind on mechanical effects appears often to render it incapable of perceiving anything that is not mechanical. some compounds are observed to precipitate crystals, all of which contain known angles. thence it is argued that all is mechanical, and that action occurs in set ways only. there is a tendency to lay it down as an infallible law that because we see these things therefore everything else that exists in space must be or move exactly in the same manner. but i do not think that because crystals are precipitated with fixed angles therefore the whole universe is necessarily mechanical. i think there are things exempt from mechanical rules. the restriction of thought to purely mechanical grooves blocks progress in the same way as the restrictions of mediaeval superstition. let the mind think, dream, imagine: let it have perfect freedom. to shut out the soul is to put us back more than twelve thousand years. just as outside light, and the knowledge gained from light, there are, i think, other mediums from which, in times to come, intelligence will be obtained, so outside the mental and the spiritual ideas we now possess i believe there exists a whole circle of ideas. in the conception of the idea that there are others, i lay claim to another idea. the mind is infinite and able to understand everything that is brought before it; there is no limit to its understanding. the limit is in the littleness of the things and the narrowness of the ideas which have been put for it to consider. for the philosophies of old time past and the discoveries of modern research are as nothing to it. they do not fill it. when they have been read, the mind passes on, and asks for more. the utmost of them, the whole together, make a mere nothing. these things have been gathered together by immense labour, labour so great that it is a weariness to think of it; but yet, when all is summed up and written, the mind receives it all as easily as the hand picks flowers. it is like one sentence--read and gone. the mind requires more, and more, and more. it is so strong that all that can be put before it is devoured in a moment. left to itself it will not be satisfied with an invisible idol any more than with a wooden one. an idol whose attributes are omnipresence, omnipotence, and so on, is no greater than light or electricity, which are present everywhere and all-powerful, and from which perhaps the thought arose. prayer which receives no reply must be pronounced in vain. the mind goes on and requires more than these, something higher than prayer, something higher than a god. i have been obliged to write these things by an irresistible impulse which has worked in me since early youth. they have not been written for the sake of argument, still less for any thought of profit, rather indeed the reverse. they have been forced from me by earnestness of heart, and they express my most serious convictions. for seventeen years they have been lying in my mind, continually thought of and pondered over. i was not more than eighteen when an inner and esoteric meaning began to come to me from all the visible universe, and indefinable aspirations filled me. i found them in the grass fields, under the trees, on the hill-tops, at sunrise, and in the night. there was a deeper meaning everywhere. the sun burned with it, the broad front of morning beamed with it; a deep feeling entered me while gazing at the sky in the azure noon, and in the star-lit evening. i was sensitive to all things, to the earth under, and the star-hollow round about; to the least blade of grass, to the largest oak. they seemed like exterior nerves and veins for the conveyance of feeling to me. sometimes a very ecstasy of exquisite enjoyment of the entire visible universe filled me. i was aware that in reality the feeling and the thought were in me, and not in the earth or sun; yet i was more conscious of it when in company with these. a visit to the sea increased the strength of the original impulse. i began to make efforts to express these thoughts in writing, but could not succeed to my own liking. time went on, and harder experiences, and the pressure of labour came, but in no degree abated the fire of first thought. again and again i made resolutions that i would write it, in some way or other, and as often failed. i could express any other idea with ease, but not this. once especially i remember, in a short interval of distasteful labour, walking away to a spot by a brook which skirts an ancient roman wall, and there trying to determine and really commence to work. again i failed. more time, more changes, and still the same thought running beneath everything. at last, in , in the old castle of pevensey, under happy circumstances, once more i resolved, and actually did write down a few notes. even then i could not go on, but i kept the notes (i had destroyed all former beginnings), and in the end, two years afterwards, commenced this book. after all this time and thought it is only a fragment, and a fragment scarcely hewn. had i not made it personal i could scarcely have put it into any shape at all. but i felt that i could no longer delay, and that it must be done, however imperfectly. i am only too conscious of its imperfections, for i have as it were seventeen years of consciousness of my own inability to express this the idea of my life. i can only say that many of these short sentences are the result of long-continued thought. one of the greatest difficulties i have encountered is the lack of words to express ideas. by the word soul, or psyche, i mean that inner consciousness which aspires. by prayer i do not mean a request for anything preferred to a deity; i mean intense soul-emotion, intense aspiration. the word immortal is very inconvenient, and yet there is no other to convey the idea of soul-life. even these definitions are deficient, and i must leave my book as a whole to give its own meaning to its words. time has gone on, and still, after so much pondering, i feel that i know nothing, that i have not yet begun; i have only just commenced to realise the immensity of thought which lies outside the knowledge of the senses. still, on the hills and by the seashore, i seek and pray deeper than ever. the sun burns southwards over the sea and before the wave runs its shadow, constantly slipping on the advancing slope till it curls and covers its dark image at the shore. over the rim of the horizon waves are flowing as high and wide as those that break upon the beach. these that come to me and beat the trembling shore are like the thoughts that have been known so long; like the ancient, iterated, and reiterated thoughts that have broken on the strand of mind for thousands of years. beyond and over the horizon i feel that there are other waves of ideas unknown to me, flowing as the stream of ocean flows. knowledge of facts is limitless: they lie at my feet innumerable like the countless pebbles; knowledge of thought so circumscribed! ever the same thoughts come that have been written down centuries and centuries. let me launch forth and sail over the rim of the sea yonder, and when another rim arises over that, and again and onwards into an ever-widening ocean of idea and life. for with all the strength of the wave, and its succeeding wave, the depth and race of the tide, the clear definition of the sky; with all the subtle power of the great sea, there rises an equal desire. give me life strong and full as the brimming ocean; give me thoughts wide as its plain; give me a soul beyond these. sweet is the bitter sea by the shore where the faint blue pebbles are lapped by the green-grey wave, where the wind-quivering foam is loth to leave the lashed stone. sweet is the bitter sea, and the clear green in which the gaze seeks the soul, looking through the glass into itself. the sea thinks for me as i listen and ponder; the sea thinks, and every boom of the wave repeats my prayer. sometimes i stay on the wet sands as the tide rises, listening to the rush of the lines of foam in layer upon layer; the wash swells and circles about my feet, i have my hands in it, i lift a little in my hollowed palm, i take the life of the sea to me. my soul rising to the immensity utters its desire-prayer with all the strength of the sea. or, again, the full stream of ocean beats upon the shore, and the rich wind feeds the heart, the sun burns brightly; the sense of soul-life burns in me like a torch. leaving the shore i walk among the trees; a cloud passes, and the sweet short rain comes mingled with sunbeams and flower-scented air. the finches sing among the fresh green leaves of the beeches. beautiful it is, in summer days, to see the wheat wave, and the long grass foam--flecked of flower yield and return to the wind. my soul of itself always desires; these are to it as fresh food. i have found in the hills another valley grooved in prehistoric times, where, climbing to the top of the hollow, i can see the sea. down in the hollow i look up; the sky stretches over, the sun burns as it seems but just above the hill, and the wind sweeps onward. as the sky extends beyond the valley, so i know that there are ideas beyond the valley of my thought; i know that there is something infinitely higher than deity. the great sun burning in the sky, the sea, the firm earth, all the stars of night are feeble--all, all the cosmos is feeble; it is not strong enough to utter my prayer-desire. my soul cannot reach to its full desire of prayer. i need no earth, or sea, or sun to think my thought. if my thought-part--the psyche--were entirely separated from the body, and from the earth, i should of myself desire the same. in itself my soul desires; my existence, my soul-existence is in itself my prayer, and so long as it exists so long will it pray that i may have the fullest soul-life. through forest and stream, or, the quest of the quetzal, by george manville fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ the book is apparently quite genuinely by george manville fenn, judging by its style and content. yet it does not appear on any list of his books, and copies of it seem to be very rare. for that reason we have not been able to put a verified publication date on the book. it does not even appear in the british library's catalogue, indicating that it was possibly not registered for copyright. it is fairly short, taking but three hours to read aloud. it was published in the same cover as "the new forest spy," which is approximately of the same length, so that they can both be regarded as longish short stories. the book can be regarded as a sequel to "nat the naturalist", except that the action takes place somewhere in the jungles of south america. the quetzal is a beautiful bird with a long tail, and beautifully coloured. the object of the expedition is to shoot, skin, and mount specimens. there is a passing reference to ebo, who appears in "nat the naturalist" between chapters to , so that gives us some kind of a date, for that book was first published in . let us say or . possibly fenn was asked by members of his young readership for more about nat, and this is the result. the co-hero is pete, whom we first meet on board ship being maltreated by the captain. when nat and his uncle are dropped off with their own small boat, and are camping ashore for their first night, they discharge their fire-arms at sounds they take to be enemy locals. the noises turn out to be pete and cross, the ship's carpenter, who had jumped ship. pete had been a dirty-looking frightened boy on the ship, but with a quick wash of the face he turns out to be quite a useful lad, and plays a full part in the expedition. there is the usual fenn style of apparently mortal perils, overcome by cunning or luck, and it is quite a good read or listen. ________________________________________________________________________ through forest and stream; or, the quest of the quetzal, by george manville fenn. chapter one. why we were there. the captain of the steamer stopped by where i was watching the flying fish fizz out of the blue-ink-like water, skim along for some distance, and drop in again, often, i believe, to be snapped up by some bigger fish; and he gave me a poke in the shoulder with one finger, so hard, that it hurt. "yes?" i said, for he stood looking hard in my face, while i looked back harder in his, for it seemed such a peculiar way of addressing one, and his manner was more curious still. he was naturally a smooth-faced man with a very browny-yellow skin, and he kept on passing the finger with which he had poked me over first one cheek and then over the other, just as if he were shaving himself without soap. then his speech seemed more peculiar than his manner, for he repeated my one word, only instead of pronouncing it _yes_, he turned it into _yuss_. he looked so comic and puzzled that i smiled, and the smile became a laugh. i was sorry directly after, because it seemed rude to one who had been very civil to me ever since we left kingston harbour. "'tain't nothing to laugh at, young feller," he said, frowning. "i've been talking to him yonder, and i can't make nothing of him. he's a _re-lay-tive_ of yours, isn't he?" "yes; my uncle," i replied. "well, i'm afraid he don't know what he's cut out for himself, and i think i ought to tell you, so as you may talk to him and bring him to his senses." "there's no need," i said, quickly. "oh, yes, there is, my lad. he don't know what he's got before him, and it's right that you should. he's going shooting, isn't he?" "yes." "nattralist?" "yes." "well, he don't know what the parts are like where he's going. do you know what fevers is?" "oh, yes," i replied; "i've heard of them often." "well, the coast yonder's where they're made, my lad. natur's got a big workshop all along there, and she makes yaller ones, and black ones; scarlet, too, i dessay, though i never see none there that colour." "uncle's a doctor," i said, "and he'll know all about that." "but he's going, he tells me, to shoot birds in the forests and up the rivers, and means to skin 'em, and he won't do it." "why not?" i said. "why not? because if the fevers don't stop you both, the injuns will; and if they don't, you'll get your boat capsized in the rivers or along the coast, or you'll get lost in the woods and never be heerd of again." "uncle's an old, experienced traveller," i said, "and has been a great deal in south america." "you warn't with him there, was you?" "no," i said; "but i was with him in the east indian islands." "then you tell him to stop about the west indy islands. he may get some birds there, but he won't if he goes to the coast yonder. you tell him i say so." "what's the use?" i said. "uncle has made his plans." "oh, yes, and he thinks he's going to do wonders with that cranky cockboat." he turned and nodded his head contemptuously at our good-sized boat lashed on the deck amidships. "it was the best he could get in port royal harbour," i said, "and all the better for being rather small." "why?" said the captain. "easier to manage. we can go up the rivers in her, or sail along the coast." "you'll get snagged in the rivers, and pitched into the sea if you try to coast along. oh, here he is!" for at that moment uncle dick, looking particularly eager and inquiring, came up to where we stood. "well, captain," he said, "having a word with my nephew about our boat?" "that's so, sir," was the reply, "and about that venture of yours. you take my advice, now, and just go from port to port with me, and you can buy all you want for a few dollars; and that'll be better than going up country and catching fevers. there's lots o' bird-skins to be bought." uncle dick laughed good-humouredly. "why, captain," he said, "i might just as well have stopped in london and bought a few bird-skins down by the docks." "a deal better, doctor. you don't know what you're cutting out for yourself." "we should come off badly for natural history specimens, captain, if people followed your advice." "quite well enough, doctor. i don't see much good in stuffed birds." "ah, well, captain," said my uncle, "we will not argue about that. you land us and our boat where i said." "do you know what sort of a place it is, sir?" "pretty well," replied my uncle. "i shall know better when we reach it." "all right, sir. you're my passenger, and i'll keep to my bargain. but don't you blame me if anything goes wrong." "i never shall, believe me," said my uncle. "you won't," said the captain, and he walked aft, shaking his head as if our case was hopeless. "our friend is not very encouraging, nat," said my uncle. "he believes that he knows better than we do, but i think we shall manage all the same. at any rate, we'll try." "how far are we from the coast?" i asked. "not above a day's run," said my uncle; "so have all your traps ready for putting in the boat at any moment." "everything is ready, uncle," i said. "that's right. i shall be glad to get ashore and to work." "not more glad than i shall be, uncle," i said. "i'm sick of being cooped up on board ship with this skipper--there, he's at it again." the voice of the captain in a furious passion abusing someone, followed by the sound of a blow and a yelp such as a dog would give when kicked, made uncle dick frown. "the brute!" he muttered. "how he does knock that poor lad about." "it's shameful, uncle," i said, passionately, "if we stop on board much longer i shall tell him he's what you said." "no, hold your tongue, nat," said my uncle. "we have no right to interfere. he has often made my blood boil. ah! don't laugh. i mean feel hot, sir." "i wasn't going to laugh, uncle," i said. "it makes me wonder, though, how boys can want to come to sea." "all captains are not like our friend yonder," said uncle dick. "but it seems to me that he's a tyrant to everyone on board. who's being bullied now?" for just then sharp words were being exchanged, and a gruff voice cried: "do. you hit me, and skipper or no skipper, i'll give it you back with interest!" "what! you mutinous dog!" shouted the captain. "here, boy, go down and fetch my revolver from the cabin." "bah!" came in a loud voice. "you daren't use it. if you did, the crew would put you in irons." the ship's carpenter came by where we were stood, scowling fiercely at us both, walked to the forecastle hatch, and went below. "yes, nat," said my uncle, "i think we shall be happier out in the woods. don't you wish we had ebo here?" "i've often wished it, uncle," i said. "but perhaps we may pick up just such a fellow out yonder." "such pieces of luck don't happen twice to the same people. hullo, here's poor doldrums. well, my lad, in trouble again?" the ship's boy, a sallow, dirty-looking lad of about eighteen, but stunted and, dwarfed for his age, came shuffling by us, to follow the carpenter, and he held one hand to his eye and spoke in answer with his face half averted. "trouble again, sir?" said the poor fellow, half piteously, half in anger; "i aren't never been out of it since we sailed." "what have you been doing? here, let me look at your face." "oh, never mind that, sir," said the lad, shrinking. "but i do mind," said my uncle. "let me see." uncle dick did not wait for the boy to take down his hand, but drew it away, to show that the eye was red and swollen up. "did the captain do that?" i said. the lad nodded, and his forehead filled with lines. "what had you been about?" "nothing, sir," said the lad bitterly. "then what had you left undone?" "i dunno, sir. i try all day long to do what the skipper wants, but it's always kicks when it arn't blows; and when it's neither he's always swearing at me. i wish i was dead!" he cried passionately. "stop here," cried uncle dick, sharply, for the lad was moving off, with his eye covered up again. regularly cowed, the lad stopped short, flinching the while. "don't do that," said uncle dick. "i was not going to strike you." "no, sir, but everybody else does, 'cept the carpenter. but i don't care now; i shall go overboard and end it." "why?" said uncle dick. "why, sir? what's the good o' living such a life as this?" "this ship is not the whole world, my lad, and all the people are not like the captain." the lad looked half wonderingly at my uncle, and then turned to me with so pitiful a look that i felt ready to take the poor fellow's part the next time he was in trouble. "everyone nearly seems the same to me," he said drearily. "i don't know why i come to sea. thought it was all going to be adventures and pleasure, and it's all kicks and blows, just because i'm a boy." the poor fellow looked enviously at me, and sniffing loudly, walked on. "it ought to be stopped, uncle," i said. "the poor fellow's life is made miserable." "yes, nat. it is terrible to see how one man can make other people's lives a burden to them. i'm a regular tyrant to you sometimes." i laughed. "why, aunt sophy says you spoil me," i cried. "well, we will not argue about that, my boy," said my uncle; "we've too much to think about. in twenty-four hours we shall be afloat with our boat to ourselves; and the sooner the better, for if she's out of the water much longer we shall have her leaky." he walked to where our half-decked boat lay in its chocks, with all her tackle carefully lashed in place, and i could not help feeling proud of our possession, as i thought of the delights of our river trips to come, and the days when we should be busy drying and storing skins on board, for it was planned out that we were to make the rivers our highways as far as possible, and live on board, there being a snug cabin under the half-deck, while well-oiled sail-cloth was arranged to draw over the boom, which could be turned into the ridge pole of a roof, and shut in the after part of the boat, making all snug at night, or during a tropical downpour. "she's rather too big for us, nat," said my uncle, "and i hope they will have no accident when they lower her down." "oh, i hope not, uncle," i said. "so do i, my boy, but they were clumsy enough in getting her on board. however, we shall have troubles in plenty without inventing any." we stood together, leaning over the side and talking about our plans, which were to collect any new and striking birds that we could find, while specially devoting ourselves to shooting the quetzals, as they were called by the natives, the splendid trogons whose plumes were worn by the emperors of the past. "and i'm not without hope, nat," said my uncle, "that in course of our journeys up in the mountains, in the parts which have not yet been explored, we may find the cock of the rocks. i see no reason whatever why those birds should not inhabit suitable regions as far north as this. it is hot enough in central america, as hot as brazil, and far hotter than peru." "what about humming-birds, uncle," i said. "we shall find plenty, and perhaps several that have never before been collected; but we must not want ordinary specimens. we must not overload ourselves, but get only what is choice." our conversation was interrupted by the coming of the captain, who looked at us searchingly. "well, doctor," he said; "been thinking it all over?" "yes," said uncle dick, quietly. "and you're going to let me take you in to belize?" "indeed i'm not," said my uncle quietly. "i made all my plans before i started, and explained to you before we sailed from port royal what i wished you to do." "well, yes, you did say something about it." "the something was that you should drop me where i wished--somewhere in yucatan or on mosquito coast." "that's right, doctor; you did." "very well, then; according to your calculations at noon to-day, we shall be within sight of land about mid-day to-morrow." "dessay we shall, among the cays and reefs and little bits of islands yonder." "then you will fulfil your part of the agreement at mid-day." "drop you and your boat out at sea?" "yes," said uncle dick. "i say; doctor, air you mad?" "i hope not." "well, i begin to think you must be, for this is about the most unheard-of thing a man could do. you and this boy of yours have got to live." "of course," said my uncle. "well, what are you going to live on?" "if i must explain, the stores contained in the cases you have of mine below." "hah!" cried the captain; "well, that's right, i suppose. but what about fresh water?" "there is the cask, and a little tank belonging to the boat. they are both full, and we shall never be out of sight of land while on the coast. afterwards we shall be journeying up the different rivers." "but when you've eaten all your stores, what then, doctor?" "i hope we shall never be in that condition," said my uncle, "for we shall husband our stores as reserves, and live as much as we can upon the fish we catch and the birds we shoot." "ha, ha, ha!" laughed the captain. "going up the rivers, air you?" "yes." "then you'd better try and ketch the sea cows. they're big as elephants, and one o' them'll last you two, six months if she don't go bad." "thank you," said my uncle, smiling; "but we shall be content with smaller deer than that." "well, i guess i don't like letting you go doctor," said the captain. "so it seems," said my uncle quietly. "pray why?" "don't seem fair to young squire here, for one thing." "have you any other reason?" said my uncle. "you two can't manage a boat like that." "we have managed a bigger one before. any other reason?" "well, yes; you two'll come to grief, and i don't want to be brought to book for setting you adrift on about the maddest scheme i ever heerd tell of." "ah, now we understand one another," said my uncle, quietly. "well, you may set you mind at rest, sir. i am the best judge of the risks to be run, and you will never be called to account for my actions." "well, don't blame me if you both find yourselves on your backs with fever." "never fear, captain," said my uncle. "if it is calm in the morning, as soon as we are within sight of land--" "what land?" "any land on or off the coast, i shall be obliged by your getting my boat over the side, and the stores and chests out of the hold and cabin, so that we can get everything stowed away, then you can take us in tow, and i can cast off as soon as i like." "all right," said the captain, and he went forward once more, while we two stayed on deck watching the wonderful sunset, till the great golden orange ball dipped down out of sight behind the clouds, which looked like ranges of mountains rising from some glorious shore. we were not long afterwards made aware of the captain's reason for going forward, his voice rising in angry bullying tones, and we soon found that he and the fierce carpenter were engaged in a furious quarrel, which ended as quickly as it began, the captain making his reappearance, driving the ship's boy before him, and hastening the poor fellow's sluggish, unwilling movements by now and then giving him a kick. chapter two. our start. my sleep was disturbed that night by dreams of sea cows as big as elephants, orange-coloured birds in huge flocks, and golden-green quetzals flying round my head, with their yard-long tails spread out, and their scarlet breasts gleaming in the sunshine which flashed through my cabin window. i was puzzling myself as to how the beautiful birds could be out there at sea, and why it was that uncle dick and i could be walking about at the same time among golden mountains, which were, i felt sure, only last evening's sunset clouds, when all at once it was quite clear, for uncle dick cried: "now then, nat, my boy, tumble out, tumble out. the sun's up, and we've no end to do. the men are at work already." i was awake then, and after hurriedly dressing, i went on deck, to find out that the noises i had been hearing were caused by the men making fast some tackle to our boat, ropes being passed through a pulley block at the end of a swinging boom, and when they were ready the mate gave orders. then the men began to haul, and as the ropes tightened the heavy boat was lifted out of the chocks in which she lay, and with a good deal of creaking was swung out over the bulwarks quite clear of the steamer's side, and then lowered down with her bows much lower than the stern, so that it looked as if the boat we had trusted to for taking us many a long journey was about to dive down under the sea. but she was too well built, and as she kissed the flashing waters she began to float, the stern part dipping lower till she was level, and the ropes grew slack, when all the men gave a cheer as she glided along beside the steamer, tugging at the rope which was made fast to her bows. next uncle dick went down into her with the carpenter, and i was left on deck to superintend the getting up of our chests and boxes of stores, which were lowered down into the boat, the carpenter; who looked quiet and civil enough now, working well at packing in the chests so that they fitted snugly together and took up little room. then our two small portmanteaus of clothes were swung down, followed by the cartridge-boxes and the long case which held our guns and rifles. lastly the tank in the stern was filled with fresh water, and the little cask swung down and lashed under the middle thwart. "how much more is there to come, nat?" asked my uncle, as i stood on deck, looking down. "that's all, uncle," i said. "bravo! for we're packed pretty close. hardly room to move, eh, carpenter?" "i don't see much the matter, sir," said the man. "everything's nice and snug, and these boxes make like a deck. bimeby when you've used your stores you can get rid of a chest or two." "no," said uncle dick; "we shall want them to hold the specimens we shoot. but you've packed all in splendidly, my lad." "thankye, sir," said the man gruffly, and just then i heared a low weary sigh from somewhere close by, and turning sharply, i saw the ship's boy standing there with his left hand up to his face, looking at me piteously. "hallo!" i said, smiling; "how's the eye this morning?" "horrid bad, sir," he answered. "let me look." he took away his hand slowly and unwillingly, showing that the eye was a good deal swollen and terribly blackened. "you wouldn't like an eye like that, sir?" he said, with a faint smile. "no," i said angrily; "and it's a great shame." i hardly know how it was that i had it there, where money was not likely to be of use, but i had a two-shilling piece in my pocket, and i gave it to the poor fellow, as it seemed to me like showing more solid sympathy than empty words. his face lit up so full of sunshine that i did not notice how dirty it was as he clapped the piece of silver to the swollen eye. "that will not do any good," i said, laughing. "done a lot, sir," he answered--"that and what you said." he made a curious sound as if he were half choking then, and turned sharply to run forward to the cook's galley. by the time breakfast was over, land could be seen from the deck to starboard, port, and right forward--misty-looking land, like clouds settled here and there upon the surface of the sea. this grew clearer and clearer, till about noon it was plain to see that some of the patches were islands, while farther to the west the mainland spread right and left with dim bluish-looking mountains in the distance. it was early in the afternoon that the captain suddenly gave his orders, the engine was stopped, and the boat towing far astern began to grind up against the side, as it rose and fell on the heaving sea. "still of the same mind, doctor?" said the captain. "certainly, sir." "then now's your time. over you go." "i thought you would run in a few miles nearer," said uncle dick. "did you, sir?" said the captain roughly; "then you made a great mistake. this sea swarms with reefs and shoals nigher in, and i'm not going to be mad enough to risk my vessel, if you're mad enough to risk your life. now, sir, please, i want to get ahead and claw off here before it falls calm. if i don't, some of these currents 'll be landing me where i don't want to go." "we are ready," said uncle dick. "haul that boat abreast the starboard gangway!" shouted the captain, and a couple of men ran to obey the order. "well, good-bye, captain," said uncle dick, "and thank you for what you've done." "good-bye, sir, and good luck to you. you too, youngster; but it isn't too late yet." "much," said my uncle, and it seemed quite strange to me that what followed took so short a time. for one minute we were on the deck of the large vessel, the next we were standing up in our little boat, waving our hats to the crew, who had crowded to the side to give us a cheer; and the last faces i noted as they glided away were those of the carpenter and the boy, who gazed after us in a wistful way, the latter looking miserable in the extreme as he held his left hand over his eye. chapter three. night ashore. i was brought back to the present by my uncle giving me a hearty slap on the shoulder. "ready to begin again, nat?" he cried. "yes, uncle," i said eagerly. "it seems like the old days come back." "ship the rudder, then, while i hoist the sail. the skipper may be right, so let's make use of this soft breeze to get to the mainland before the calm leaves us at the mercy of the currents." a few minutes later the boat careened over gently, and glided fast through the water, while i steered, making for an opening which uncle dick made out with his glass to be the mouth of a valley running up the country. "it's too far off to see all i want, nat," he said, as he closed his glass; "but i fancy we shall find a river there, and we'll run in and try our luck. if there's nothing attractive about the place, we'll make a fresh start after a night's rest, and go on coasting along south till we find the sort of place we want. how well the boat sails with her load!" on we glided, with the vessel we had left gradually getting hull down as the afternoon wore on, while we passed no less than three tempting-looking wooded islets where we might have landed to pass the night; but uncle dick shook his head. "no, my boy," he said; "we'll keep to our course. there are more of these cays about, and we could land upon one if the wind dropped. as it holds fair, we'll run on to the mainland, for if it only keeps on till sunset, we shall reach the shore before dark." uncle dick was right, and as it drew near sunset i was feasting my eyes on a wild-looking region whose beauty increased as we drew closer. there was dense mangrove jungle, then cliff covered with verdure, and this was broken up by patches of yellow sand backed by fringes of cocoanut grove, which again gave place to open park-like forest with big trees--this last where the great rocky bluff towered up with another eminence on the other side of the opening--but there was no river, nothing but a fine sandy cove, with a tiny stream running down from a patch of beautiful forest. as we ran in we had our last sight of the distant vessel which had brought us so far on our journey, and uncle dick, who was standing up forward to direct me in my steering, cried-- "nothing could be better, nat. it's like landing on one of our old islands. neither hut nor inhabitant to be seen. this is genuine wild country, and we shall find a river to-morrow. i was half afraid that we should be coming upon sugar or coffee plantations, or perhaps men cutting down the great mahogany trees." i was as delighted as he was, for my mind was full of the gloriously-plumaged bird we meant to shoot, and there in imagination i peopled the flower-decked bushes with flashing humming-birds whose throats and crests glowed with scale-like feathers, brilliant as the precious stones--emerald, topaz, ruby, and sapphire--after which they were named. the great forest trees would be, i felt sure, full of the screaming parrot tribe, in their uniforms of leafy green, faced with orange, blue, and crimson; while, farther up the country, there would be the splendid quetzals, all metallic golden-green and scarlet. but i had little time for thought. in a short time, in obedience to my uncle's orders, i had steered the boat right into the mouth of the little stream beyond where the salt waves broke; the sail was lowered and furled and the anchor carried ashore and fixed between two masses of rock, so that it could not be dragged out by the tugging of the craft. "wouldn't do to wake up and find our boat gone, nat," said uncle dick, "if we set up our tent on shore. the sand looks very tempting, and we are not likely to be disturbed. but now then, start a fire, while i unpack some stores, and--yes--we will. we'll set up the tent to sleep under. more room to stretch our legs." i was not long in getting a fire burning, with the kettle full of the beautiful rivulet water heating; while uncle dick stuck in the two pointed and forked sticks with which we were provided, laid the pole from fork to fork, and spread the oiled canvas sheet over it, so that there was a shelter from the night dews. but before our coffee was ready and the bacon for our supper fried, night was upon us, and the bushes near scintillating in the most wondrous way, every twig seeming to be alive with fire-flies. for a short space of time, as we sat there on the sands, partaking of our meal--than which nothing more delicious had ever passed my lips--all was still but the lapping of the tiny waves and the musical trickling of the rivulet amongst the rocks and stones. then i jumped, for a peculiar cry arose from the forest behind us, and this seemed to be the signal for an outburst of sounds new to me, piping, thrumming, drumming, shrieking, howling, grunting in every variety, and i turned to look in uncle dick's face, which was lit up by the glow from our little wood fire. "brings back old times in the south american forests, nat," he said coolly. "i could put a name to nearly every musician at work in nature's orchestra yonder." "what was that horrible cry?" i whispered. "jaguar or puma?" "neither, my boy; only a heron or crane somewhere up the stream." "that snorting croak, then?" "only frogs or toads, nat; and that chirruping whirring is something in the cricket or cicada way. if we heard a jaguar or puma, it would most likely be a magnified tom-cat-like sort of sound." "but that mournful howl, uncle?" i whispered. "a poor, melancholy spider-monkey saying good-night to his friends in the big trees. most of the other cries are made by night-birds out on the hunt for their suppers. that cry was made by a goat-sucker, one of those `chuck-will's-widow' sort of fellows. they're very peculiar, these night-hawks. even ours at home keeps up that whirring, spinning-wheel-like sound in the surrey and sussex fir-woods. ah, that's a dangerous creature, if you like!" he said, in a whisper. "which?" i said, below my breath. "that piping _ping-wing-wing_." "why, that's a mosquito, uncle," i cried contemptuously. "the only thing likely to attack us to-night, nat," he said, laughing; "but we'll have the guns and everything ready all the same." "to shoot the mosquitoes, uncle?" "no, but anything that might--mind, i say _might_--come snuffing about us." uncle dick was so calm and cool over it that he made me the same, and the little nervous sensation caused by the novelty of my position soon passed away. the guns were loaded and laid ready, a couple of blankets spread, and utterly wearied out, after making up the fire, we crept into our tent and lay down to get a good night's sleep. "we'll rest on shore wherever it's safe, nat," were uncle dick's last words. "it's nicer to have the solid ground under you. this is a treat; the sand's like a feather bed; but we shan't often have such a luxurious place. good-night." "one moment, uncle," i whispered, as i heard a rustling sound somewhere in the bushes. "what do you think is making that?" i waited for him to answer, under the impression that he was listening to make sure before he replied; but as he took no heed, i spoke again, but only to hear his hard breathing, for he was fast asleep, and i started up in horror, for the strange rustling sound, as of a huge snake or alligator creeping through the dry grass and bushes, began again much nearer than before. chapter four. the dangers of the night. it is not pleasant to hear a noise as of something forcing its way through bushes close by your bedside, when instead of the strong walls of a house in a thickly inhabited place, with police to protect you, there is nothing but a thin piece of canvas between you and a forest swarming, for aught you can tell, with hosts of dangerous creatures seeking their prey. i felt that in my first night where i lay by the outskirts of one of the central american forests, and i should have seized uncle dick by the arm and shaken him into wakefulness but for the dread of being considered cowardly. for he seemed so calm and confident that i dared not wake him up, to be told that the noise i heard was only made by some innocent animal that would flee for its life if i slipped outside. "i wonder whether that would," i said to myself. "i'll try." i made up my mind that i would take my double gun from where it lay beside me and go out; but it was a long time before i could make up my body to act; and when at last, in anger with myself for being so cowardly, i did creep out softly and make a dash in the direction of the sound, i was bathed in perspiration, and my legs shook beneath me, for i felt certain that the next minute i should be seized by some monstrous creature ready to spring at me out of the darkness. but nothing did seize me. for there was a thud and a faint crash repeated again and again, and though i could not see, i felt certain that the fire had attracted some deer-like creature, which had gone bounding off, till all was silent again, when i crept back, letting the canvas fall behind me, feeling horribly conceited, and thinking what a brave fellow i must be. i must have gone off to sleep directly i lay down then, for one moment i was looking at the dull-reddish patch in the canvas behind which the fire was burning, and the next everything was blank, till all at once i was wide awake, with a hand laid across my mouth, and the interior of our scrap of a tent so dark that i could see nothing; but i could hear someone breathing, and directly after uncle dick whispered: "lie still--don't speak." he removed his hand then, and seemed to be listening. "hear anything, nat?" he said. "not now, uncle. i did a little while ago, and took my gun and went out." "ah! what was it?" "some kind of deer, and it bounded away." "it was no deer that i heard, my boy," he whispered, "but something big and heavy. whatever it was trod upon a stick or a shell, and it snapped loudly and woke me up. there it is again." i heard the sound quite plainly in the darkness, and it was exactly as uncle dick described, but i leaned towards its being a fragile shell trodden on by some big animal or a man. "couldn't be one of the great cats?" i whispered. "oh, no! they tread like velvet." "could it be a tapir?" "not a likely place for one. hist!" i was silent, and lay listening, so to speak, with all my might, till a low swishing sound reached us, just as if someone had brushed against a bush. uncle dick laid his hand upon my shoulder, and he pressed it hard, as if silently saying, "did you hear that?" i answered him in a similar way, and then he whispered: "someone is prowling round the tent, and we shall have to go out and challenge them." "suppose they are savages with bows and arrows?" i whispered back. "too dark for them to take aim," he said. "a bold dash out will scare them, and i'll fire over their heads." i felt as if it would be safer to stay where we were; but it seemed cowardly, so i was silent. "i'll go out at once," said uncle dick, and i was silent for a moment, and then rose with my gun ready. "i'll come with you, uncle," i whispered. he pressed my hand before creeping softly out; and i followed, to find that the darkness was as black as inside the tent; that the fire-flies had ceased to shimmer and flash about the low trees, and that the fire was so nearly out that there was nothing visible but a faint glow. "stand fast," whispered uncle dick, "while i throw on some of the light twigs we put ready." i did not remember putting any light twigs ready, nor anything else just then, for my head was full of wild thoughts, and i was straining my eyesight in all directions, with my gun cocked and ready to fire at the first attack. all at once there was a rustle as the twigs were thrown on the glowing embers; a sharp crackling followed, and a bright flame sprang up. at almost the same moment there came from the trees beyond the sound of a rush being made through the bushes, and then the report of uncle dick's gun as he fired twice. someone uttered an ejaculation, the rushing sound increased, and directly after there came a loud crashing noise as if someone had fallen; but he--or it--was up again directly, and our enemies, by the splashing and crackling sounds, seemed to be retreating up the bed of the rivulet. i stood ready to fire, but reserved my shot, as there seemed to be no need; and as i listened intently i could hear uncle dick slipping fresh cartridges into his gun, and the click it gave as he closed the breech. "hadn't we better get into shelter?" i whispered. "we offer such a good mark for an arrow." "no, my boy," said my uncle; "the fire is between us and the enemy, and we are quite safe." for the twigs were blazing merrily now, and sending out a bright light, which spread around and made the nearest trees stand out and the little tent look bright and clear. but the next moment something else caught my eye, and the startled sensation seemed to cause a catching of my breath as i stood pointing down at the smooth patch of sand beside the trickling water of the stream--a patch over which a wave must have lately passed, it was so smooth, while close up towards the fire, and where the full blaze of light played, were the objects which had struck my eye. "what is it, nat?" said my uncle sharply, and then as he caught sight of the marks too, he answered his own question aloud: "footprints--men's--yes, more than one. hah! look-out, nat; i can hear them coming back." uncle dick's ears seemed to be sharper than mine, for though i listened intently and stood prepared to fire, some minutes elapsed before i heard a sound, and then it was not from up the stream, but from overhead--a sharp whistling cry--which was repeated again and again, and i caught the flash of wings as a large bird circled round, evidently attracted by the fire, which was kept blazing. "throw on some more, nat," said my uncle; "it will serve to keep them at a distance. perhaps we've scared the savages off for good." "i hope so," i said; "but we mustn't go to sleep again." "you're a queer chap, nat, if you could go to sleep after this; i couldn't." "but they may not be savages, uncle," i said. "perhaps not, but the place seemed so wild that i don't think they could be anything else. we must take turn and turn to watch till daylight. you go and lie down." "no, uncle," i said; "i'd rather stay and watch. what time is it?" "about midnight, i should think," he said, pulling out the big old silver hunting-watch that accompanied him on all his travels, and holding it down in the full light from the fire. "humph!" he ejaculated. "what time do you say?" "not much more than ten," i said decisively. "i had only just dropped asleep." "it took you a long time to drop, then," he said drily. "ah! look at that bird. it will singe its wings directly." "what time is it, then?" i said, for i was more interested in knowing how long i should have to watch in the darkness than in the flight of a bird. "like to know exactly, nat?" said my uncle. "of course," i said, wonderingly. "you shall, then, my boy. it's ten minutes, thirty seconds, past six." "nonsense, uncle!" i cried. "the old watch must have stopped. did you forget to wind it up?" for answer he held it to my ear, and it was ticking loudly, while as he lowered it and i glanced at the face, i could see that the second hand had moved some distance on. "do you think it is right?" i said. "yes; we were fagged out last night and slept very soundly. you'll soon know, for it will be daylight directly." both the watch and my uncle were right--for the scream of a parrot reached my ears soon after, followed by whistlings and pipings from the forest; while soon after a horribly harsh grating screech came from overhead, and i caught a glimpse of the bird which uttered it--one of the great long-tailed aras, on its way with three or four more to a favourite part of the forest. "going figging, nat," said my uncle, putting some more wood on the fire, not for the sake of the light--for away across the sea the dawn was brightening fast, after the way of sunrise and sunset in tropic lands; and even as i looked there, far on high, was a faint fleck of orange light on a tiny cloud. a few minutes later there were scores, and the birds were singing and chirping in all directions, even the sea furnishing the screams and peculiar cries of the various ducks and gulls. "how glorious!" i said softly, for the beauty of the scene around in the glow of the morning light made me forget the darkness of the night and the terrors that it brought. "yes, nat; we've hit upon birdland the first try," said my uncle. "but it seems as if we shall have to leave it unless we can be sure that the indians are friendly." as he spoke, we both examined the footprints again. "savage marks for certain, nat," said my uncle. "do you see? these fellows have not been in the habit of wearing shoes." "yes, i see," i replied. "the big toe so wide away from the others." "you see that at a glance. i suppose it would be unwise to follow them; they would hear us coming, and might send a couple of arrows into us-- perhaps poisoned. it's a pity nat; for there are plenty of birds about, and we could get some good specimens.--yes; what is it?" "they've been all along here, right down to the sea, uncle. see their tracks?" "yes; and i can see something else," he said, shading his eyes, and looking to right and left anxiously in the now broad daylight. "what can you see?" i asked. he pointed now, and i saw what he meant. "the marks made by a boat," i said. "why, uncle, they must have come in a canoe, and been attracted by our fire. can you see their canoe?" "no," said my uncle, after a long look round and away over the glittering waters. "but it's bad, nat. they will not have gone far away, and will be coming back here in search of it." "then we shall have to take to the boat again and sail farther down the coast." "we'd better get on board, my lad, certainly," said my uncle; "so let's roll up the tent, and--ah! look-out! quick, lad--your gun!" i was ready directly, cocked both barrels of my piece, my heart beating fast in the emergency--for the danger we dreaded seemed to be at hand. chapter five. a surprise. "ahoy! don't shoot," came from out of the dense jungle up the stream. "why, uncle," i cried, "that doesn't sound like a savage." "it's worse, nat," said my uncle. "there's a terribly english sound about it." "ahoy, i say!" came again. "don't shoot!" "ahoy! who are you?" shouted my uncle. "don't shoot, and we'll come out," came in tones half smothered by the thick growth. "we're not going to fire. who are you, and what are you doing here?" there was a sharp brushing sound of leafage being forced aside, the splashing of feet in water, and the soft rattle of pebbles being moved in the stream bed by feet, and the next minute two figures came from under the pendent bough, which nearly touched the water and stood in the bright glow of the rising sun, while astonishment brought the words to our lips: "the carpenter!" cried my uncle. and i burst out laughing as i said: "that boy!" "why, we took you for savages," said my uncle. "was it you two who came to the fire last night?" "and you shot at us," said the boy, in a doleful voice. "shot at you?" cried my uncle angrily. "of course i did. how dare you come prowling about our tent in the dead of night!" "didn't prowl, sir," said the boy humbly. "we could see your fire burning like a light as we come along, and we came straight to it, landed--and landed--and you came out, sir--came out, sir--and fired at us." "then you should have shouted." "yes, sir," said the boy, "but we was afraid to--feared you'd fire at us." "but you see now, you came the wrong way." "yes, sir," said the boy, glancing at the carpenter; "we did come the wrong way." "well, what is it? did we leave anything behind? very good of the captain to send you." "didn't send us, sir," said the boy, looking down. "not send you?" cried uncle dick, staring. "how is it you came, then?" the boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scooping up the dry sand with his toes, and turned to his companion, who gave me a peculiar look and stood frowning. "why don't you speak out and tell the gentleman, bill cross?" "i left it to you, boy. you've got a tongue in your head." "yes; but you're bigger and older than me. but i don't mind telling. you see, mr nat, sir," he said, suddenly turning to me, "i couldn't stand it any longer. they was killing of me, and as soon as you was gone, sir, it seemed so much worse that i went and shook hands with bill cross, who was the only one who ever said a kind word to me, and i telled him what i was going to do." "told him you were going to run away?" said my uncle. "no, sir," said the boy promptly. "i telled him i'd come to say good-bye, for as soon as it was too dark for them to see to save me i was going to--" "run away?" said my uncle sternly, for the boy had stopped short. "no, sir," he resumed; "i was going to jump overboard." "why, you miserable, wicked young rascal, how dare you tell me such a thing as that?" cried my uncle. the boy gave a loud sniff. "that's just what bill cross said, sir: and that he'd knock my blessed young head off if i dared to do such a thing." "did you say that?" asked my uncle. "yes, sir, i did, sir," said the man gruffly; "and a very stupid thing too." "how stupid?" said my uncle. "if he drowned himself and went to the bottom, how was i ever to get the chance to hit him, sir?" "humph! i see," said my uncle; "but you meant right. and what then?" he continued, turning back to the boy. "bill cross said, sir, that if i'd got the spirit of a cockroach i wouldn't do that. `cut and run,' he says." "quite right," said my uncle. "i mean, get to another ship." "`where am i to run to?' i says. `i can't run atop of the water.' "`no,' he says; `but you could get in a boat when it was dark and row away.' `i dursen't,' i says; `it would be stealing the boat.' `you could borrow it,' he says; `that's what i'm going to do.' `you are?' i says. `i am,' he says; `for i'd sooner die o' thirst on the roaring main,' he says, `than put up with any more.' you did, didn't you, mate?" he cried, appealingly. "i did," growled the carpenter; "and i stick to it." "he said that as soon as it was dark he should manage to lower one of the boats and follow yours, and ask you to take him as crew; and if you wouldn't, he should go ashore and turn robinson crusoe." "that's right, boy," said the carpenter; "and i would." "and i says to him, sir, `bill cross,' i says, `if i tars myself black, will you let me come with you and be your man friday?'" "and what did he say to that?" asked my uncle, frowning. "said i was black enough already, sir, without my having a black eye; and if i come with him, he'd promise me never to behave half so bad as the skipper did, so of course i come." "took one of the ship's boats and stole away with it?" said my uncle. the boy nodded, and my uncle turned to the carpenter. "is this all true?" he asked. "yes, sir, every word of it. you know how bad it was." "and you followed our boat?" "followed the way we last saw your sail, sir, for long before it was dark the boat went out of sight. but just as i'd give up all hope of seeing it again, we saw your fire like a spark on shore, and we come after that." "rowed?" i said. "no, sir; sailed. there's a little lug-sail to the boat. we didn't lose sight of the fire again, and at last we ran our boat ashore." "and you've come to offer your services?" said my uncle. "yes, sir," said the man gruffly. "but even if i could take you under the circumstances, i don't want the services of any man." "your's is a big boat, sir, and hard to manage, particular at sea," said the carpenter. "i know the boat's capabilities better than you can tell me," said my uncle shortly, "and i do not require help." "then we've made a bad job of it, boy," said the carpenter. "the gentleman don't know what we can do, bill, and how useful we should be." "i daresay," said my uncle, frowning, "but i do not want a man, nor another lad." "if you'll only let me stop, sir," said the boy piteously. "i don't want no wages, and i won't eat much, only what you've done with, and there arn't nothing i won't do. i'll carry anything, and work--oh, how i will work! i'll be like your dog, i will, and you can both knock me about and kick me, and i won't say a word. you won't hit me half so hard as the skipper and the men did; and even if you did, you're only two, and there's twenty of them; so if you're allus doing it i shall be ten times better off." "it's my duty to send you and your mate, here, back to the ship," said uncle dick. "oh, don't say that, sir," cried the boy; "but if you did, we shouldn't go, for bill cross said if you wouldn't take us along with you we'd go and live in the woods, and if we starved to death there, we should be better off than aboard ship." "but you signed for the voyage, my man," said uncle dick, "and if i consented to take you with me i should be helping you to defraud the owners." "serve the owners right, sir, for having their people treated like dogs, or worse," growled the carpenter. "'sides, i don't see what fraud there is in it. i've worked hard these two months, and drawn no pay. they'll get that, and they may have it and welcome." "that's all very well," said uncle dick, "but a bargain's a bargain. the want of two hands in an emergency may mean the loss of the ship, and you and this lad have deserted. no; i can't agree to it; you must take your boat and go back." "can't, sir, now," said the carpenter bitterly; "and i thought we was coming to english gentlemen who would behave to a couple of poor wretches like christians." "it is no part of a christian's duty to be unjust. you know you have done wrong and have helped this poor lad to do the same," said my uncle. "i should have fought it out, sir, if it hadn't been for the poor boy. dog's life's nothing to what he went through." "where is your boat?" said uncle dick, suddenly. the carpenter laughed. "i dunno, sir," he said; "we sent her adrift when we landed, and you know what the currents are along here better, p'raps, than i do." "what! you've sent your boat adrift?" "yes, sir; we made up our minds to cut and run, and we can't go back now. we didn't want to steal the boat. they'll get it again." uncle dick frowned and turned to me. "this is a pretty state of affairs, nat; and it's like forcing us to take them on board and sail after the steamer. what's to be done?" "cannot we keep them, uncle?" "keep them? i don't want a boy to kick and knock about and jump on, sir. do you?" "well, no, uncle," i said; "but--" "but! yes, it's all very well to say `but,' my lad. you don't see how serious it is." "i'd serve you faithful, sir," said the carpenter. "i'm not going to brag, but i'm a handy man, sir. you might get a hole in the boat, and i didn't bring no clothes, but i brought my tools, and i'm at home over a job like that. you might want a hut knocked up, or your guns mended. i'd do anything, sir, and i don't ask for pay. it might come to your wanting help with the blacks. if you did, i'd fight for you all i could." "well, i don't know what to do, nat. what do you say?" the boy darted forward wildly and threw himself upon his knees. "say _yes_, mr nat; say _yes_!" he cried imploringly. "don't send us off, sir, and you shan't never repent it. you know what made us run away. say yes, sir; oh, say yes!" "i can't say anything else, uncle," i said, in a husky voice. "hooray!" yelled the boy, throwing his cap in the air. "do you hear, bill cross? the gentleman says `yes'!" the loud shout and the flying up of the cap had the effect of starting a little flock of birds from the nearest trees, and, obeying the instinct of the moment, uncle dick raised his gun and fired--two barrels, each of which laid low one of the birds, which dropped in different directions. i was off after one of them directly, and, in utter disregard of uncle dick's warning shout, the boy was off after the other, but took some time to find it in the dense growth amongst which it had fallen. "a beautiful little finch, uncle," i said, as i brought back my prize. "lovely!" he cried. "i never saw one like this before. it's a pity i did not stop that fellow. he will have spoiled the other." but he was wrong, for the boy was just then coming from among the low bushes, carefully bearing the second bird upon the top of his cap, which he held between his hands like a tray. "is he all right, sir?" said the bearer excitedly. "i picked him up by his neb and never touched his feathers." "yes, in capital order," said uncle dick. "come, you've begun well!" the boy's eyes flashed with pleasure, and taking advantage of uncle dick being busy over the birds, he turned to me. "then we may stop with you, master nat?" he whispered. "i suppose so, but you must wait and see what my uncle says. i say, though," i cried, "will you keep your face clean if you're allowed to stay?" "face? clean?" he said, passing his dirty hand over his dingy countenance. "ain't it clean now?" i burst into a roar of laughter, for the poor fellow's face was not only thoroughly grubby, but decorated with two good-sized smudges of tar. "you mean it's dirty, mr nat," he said seriously. "all right; i'll go and scrub it." the next minute he was down on his knee at the water's edge scooping up a handful of muddy sand and, as he termed it, scrubbing away as if he would take off all the skin, and puffing and blowing the while like a grampus, while the carpenter looked on as much amused as i. but he turned serious directly, and with an earnest look in his eyes he said: "thank you for what you said, mr nat, sir. you shan't find me ungrateful." i nodded, and walked away to join my uncle, for i always hated to be talked to like that. uncle dick had his small case open, with its knife; cotton-wire, thread, and bottle of preserving cream, and when i joined him where he was seated he had already stripped the skin off one of the birds, and was painting the inside cover with the softened paste; while a few minutes later he had turned the skin back over a pad of cotton-wool, so deftly that, as the feathers fell naturally into their places and he tied the legs together, it was hard to believe that there was nothing but plumage, the skin, and a few bones. "open the case," he said, and as i did so he laid his new specimen upon a bed of cotton-wool, leaving room for the other bird, and went on skinning in the quick clever way due to long practice. "it doesn't take those two fellows long to settle down, nat," he said, as he went on. "no, uncle," i replied, as i turned my eyes to where the boy had given himself a final sluice and was now drying his face and head pounce-powder fashion. that is to say, after the manner in which people dried up freshly-written letters before the days of blotting-paper. for the boy had moved to a heap of dry sand and with his eyes closely shut was throwing that on his face and over his short hair. "there's no question of right or wrong," said my uncle quietly. "if we do not take these fellows with us it means leaving them to starve to death in the forest, for they have neither gun, boat, nor fishing tackle." "but it would be wrong not to take them," i said. "yes," replied my uncle drily. then he was silent for a few minutes while he turned back the skin from the bird's wing joints, and all at once made me look at him wonderingly, for he said "bill!" with the handle of the knife in his teeth. "what about bill?" i said. "bill--cross," continued my uncle. "what's the other's name?" "boy," i said, laughing. "i never heard him called anything else. hadn't we better call the carpenter man?" "it would be just as reasonable," said my uncle. "ask the boy his name." by this time our new acquisition was dry, and i stared at him, for he seemed to be someone else as he dusted off the last of the sand. it was not merely that he had got rid of the dirt and reduced the tar smudges, but that something within was lighting up his whole face in a pleasant, hearty grin as he looked up at me brightly in a way i had never seen before. "is my face better, mr nat?" he said. "yes," i said, "ever so much; and you must keep it so." "oh, yes," he said seriously; "i will now. it was no good before." "what's your name?" i said. he showed his white teeth. "name? they always called me boy on board," he replied. "yes, but you've got a name like anyone else," i said. "oh, yes, sir," he replied, wrinkling up his forehead as if thinking deeply; "i've got a name somewheres, but i've never seemed to want it. got most knocked out of me. it's peter, i know; but--i say, bill cross," he cried sharply, "what's my name?" the carpenter smiled grimly, and gave me a sharp look as much as to say, "wait a minute and you shall see me draw him out." "name, my lad," he said. "here, i say, you haven't gone and knocked your direction off your knowledge box, have you?" "i dunno," said the boy, staring. "i can't 'member it." "where was it stuck on--your back?" "nay, it was in my head if it was anywhere. gahn! you're laughing at me. here! i know, mr nat; it's horn--peter horn. that's it." "well, you are a thick-skulled one, pete, not to know your own name." "yes," replied the boy thoughtfully; "it's being knocked about the head so did it, i s'pose. what shall i do now, sir? light a fire?" "yes, at once," i said, for the thought made me know that i was hungry. "make it now between those pieces of rock yonder by the boat." the boy went off eagerly; cross followed; and i went back, to find my uncle finishing the second skin. "that's a good beginning, nat," he said. "now, then, the next thing is to see about breakfast." "and after that, uncle?" "then we'll be guided by circumstances, nat," he replied. "what we have to do is to get into the wildest places we can find where its river, forest, or mountain." "isn't this wild enough?" i said. "yes, my boy; but i want to get up into the interior, and we must find a road." "a road means civilisation," i said. "ah! but i mean one of nature's roads--a river. sooner or later we shall find one up which we can sail, and when that is no longer possible we must row or pole." "then we shall find the advantage, uncle, of having a little crew, and-- what's the matter now?" i stared in astonishment, for the minute before pete and the carpenter were busy feeding the fire and trying to get the kettle they had swung, gypsy fashion, on three bamboos, to boil. now they were both crawling towards us on all-fours, pete getting over the ground like a dog. "it's all over, master nat, and good-bye if yer never sees us again. it's robinson crusoe out in the woods now." "why, bill," i said, "has he gone mad?" "pretty nigh, sir. look." "look at what?" "steamer, sir, found the boat, i s'pose, and they're coming round the point to pick us up. good luck to you, gentlemen, and good-bye." he plunged after pete into the bed of the stream, and they disappeared in the jungle, just as the steamer in full sail and close in came gliding into our sight, towing a boat astern. chapter six. a false alarm. "it looks bad for them, poor fellows!" said my uncle, shading his eyes to gaze seaward. "the captain means to have them back." "nonsense! uncle," i said; "it's a false alarm. that's not our ship." "not our ship?" he cried, springing up. "of course it's not. and whatever she is those on board don't see us." we stood watching for a few minutes before i ran to the boat and got the glass out of the locker to have a good look. "well, what do you make of her?" said my uncle. "i don't know what she is," i said; "but there are only two people on deck--one forward and the other leaning half asleep over the wheel. here, i'll go and call those two back." "you'd call in vain," said my uncle, as i replaced the glass in the case. "they're beyond earshot, and you could not find them." "what are we to do then, uncle?" i said. "have breakfast, my boy. i want mine." "but those two poor fellows?" "well, they took fright, nat. a guilty conscience needs no accuser. they had run from their ship, and the sight of one was enough to make them feel that they were being sought." "but we ought to do something, uncle," i said. "we can't do anything but wait, my lad," he replied. "there, don't be uneasy; they'll come back as soon as they've got over the scaring. i daresay we shall see or hear of them before night." my uncle's words brought back the hungry feeling which had been swept away, and i saw to the breakfast, making the coffee and frizzling some slices of bacon, the meal being thoroughly enjoyable, eaten there in the shade of a great tree, while everything around looked beautiful in the extreme; and it was not until my morning hunger was nearly appeased that the flies and the flying thoughts of our late companions tormented me much. then they began to get worse; and in a fit of sympathy i felt ashamed of enjoying my meal so well while those two poor fellows were suffering from hunger and fear. "what's the matter, nat?" said my uncle; and then, "look! who'd have thought of seeing humming-birds so near the sea?" i did not reply, for i did not know which part of my uncle's remark to answer first; so i stared at the lovely little birds flitting about some flowers. "steamer's getting a good way along," said my uncle, after a few minutes' silence. "here, i must have two or three of those little beauties." "they're not quetzals, uncle," i said, smiling. "no; but i'm not going to miss getting rare specimens, nat. we may not find the quetzals, and we must not go back empty-handed. is the anchor quite fast?" "yes, uncle, perfectly," i said. "then let's get what good birds we can while we're waiting. the sound of our guns may bring those fellows back." he was right, for about mid-day, when we were busily preparing some skins of the lovely little humming-birds we had shot, i caught up the gun by my side, for their was a peculiar piping cry. "what bird's that?" i said, in a sharp whisper. "_pee-wew_!" came softly. "some kind of sea bird," said my uncle. "it sounds like a gull." i laughed, and laid down my gun. "why are you doing that?" said my uncle. "_pee-wee_!" came the cry again. "_pee-wee_!" i whistled, and then i shouted aloud, "all right! steamer's gone." there was the cracking of twigs and a loud rustling sound, followed by the sight of pete, who crept out from among the bushes, hot, panting, and with face and hands terribly scratched. "sure she's gone, master nat?" he said dolefully. "sure? yes," i cried. "it wasn't our ship at all." "there, i knowed it warn't all the time, only bill cross said he was sure it were. here, come out! way he! it's all right." the carpenter forced his way out of the jungle soon after, glaring at pete. "here," he cried gruffly, "what d'ye mean by scaring a fellow like that?" "it warn't me," cried pete. "you said it was our ship coming after us." "never mind, now," said my uncle. "set the fire going again, and get yourselves some breakfast; but don't be in such a hurry to take fright next time. we'd better have our dinner at the same time, nat; and if there's any wind this evening we'll sail southward." there was plenty of wind, and so quite early in the afternoon the anchor was placed on board, pete tucked up his trousers and ran the boat out, and then scrambled in to help with the sail. then, as the boat careened over and glided away, he and his companion gave a hearty cheer. we sailed along the coast southward for days and days, always finding plenty to interest and a few specimens worth shooting, both bill and pete looking on with the most intense interest at the skinning and preserving, till one day the latter said confidently: "i could do that, mr nat." "very well," i said; "you shall try with one of the next birds i shoot." "at last," cried my uncle a day or two later, and, seizing the tiller, he steered the boat straight for a wide opening and into what seemed to be a lake, so surrounded were we by tropical trees. but the current we met soon showed that we were at the mouth of a good-sized river, and the wind being in our favour, we ran up it a dozen miles or so before evening. for a long time the shores right and left had been closing in, and our progress growing slower, for the forest, which had been at some distance, now came down to the water's edge, the trees were bigger, and for the last two miles we had sailed very slowly, shut in as we were by the great walls of verdure which towered far above the top of our mast and completely shut out the wind. fortunately, the river was deep and sluggish so that progression was comparatively easy, and every hundred yards displayed something tempting to so ardent a naturalist as my uncle. not always pleasant, though, for the sluggish waters swarmed with huge alligators, and every now and then one plunged in from the bank with a mighty splash. some of the first we saw were approached innocently enough--for to unaccustomed eyes they looked like muddy logs floating down stream, and pete laughed at me when i told him to lift his oar as we passed one so drowsy that it paid no heed. "raise your oar-blade," i said, as we glided along, "or that brute may turn angry and upset us." i was sitting holding the tiller, steering, and bill cross held the other oar, while my uncle, tired out by a tramp ashore, was lying down forward, fast asleep, in the shadow cast by the sail, which kept on filling and flapping--for in the reach we had now entered the wind was hardly felt. "i never saw a tree run at a boat, master nat," said pete, as he raised his oar-blade. but before we had half passed the sleeping reptile the boy gave it a sudden chop on the back, and then, horrified by the consequence of his act, he started up in his place, plunged overboard into the deep, muddy water on the other side, and disappeared. for a moment or two i thought that we were all going to follow, for the reptile struck the boat a tremendous blow with its tail as it plunged down, raising the river in waves and eddies, and making our craft dance so that the water nearly came over the side, and we all clung to the nearest object to our hands. "what's that?" cried my uncle. "alligator," i said, in a startled tone. "where's the boy?" "gone overboard." "not seized by one of the loathsome monsters?" "oh, no, sir," said bill, who looked rather startled. "he chopped it, and it scared him over the side." "well, where is he?" cried my uncle, appealing to me, while i looked vainly over the surface, which was now settling down. "i--i don't know," i stammered. "he went over somewhere here." "but where did he come up?" cried my uncle. "haven't you seen him?" i was silent, for a terrible feeling of dread kept me from speaking, and my uncle turned to the carpenter. "no, sir, i haven't seen him," was the reply. "let the boat drift down. don't pull, man, you're sending us over to the other side. stop a moment." my uncle hurriedly took pete's place, seized the oar that was swinging from the rowlock, and began to pull so as to keep the boat from drifting, while i steered. "hadn't you better let her go down a bit, sir?" said the carpenter. "he may be drifting, and will come up lower." "but the lad could swim," said my uncle, as i began to feel a horrible chill which made my hands grow clammy. "swim? yes, sir--like a seal. i'm getting skeart. one of they great lizardy things must have got him." "cease rowing!" cried my uncle, and he followed my example of standing up in the boat and scanning the surface, including the nearest shore-- that on our left, where the trees came right down to the water. they stopped together, and let the boat drift slowly with the current downward and backward, till all at once there was a light puff of hot wind which filled the sail, and we mastered the current, once more gliding slowly up stream, with the water pattering against the sides and bows. but there was no sign of pete, and having failed to take any bearings, or to remember by marks on the shore whereabouts he had gone down, we were quite at fault, so that when the wind failed again and the boat drifted back, it was impossible to say where we had seen the last of the poor lad. i felt choking. something seemed to rise in my throat, and i could only sit there dumb and motionless, till all at once, as the wind sprang up again, filled the sail, and the boat heeled over, the necessity of doing something to steer her and keep her in the right direction sent a thrill through me, and i did what i ought to have done before. for, as the water rattled again under the bows and we glided on, i shouted aloud-- "pete, lad, where are you?" "ahoy!" came from a distance higher up, farther than we could have deemed possible after so much sailing. "hooray!" shouted the carpenter. "why he's got ashore yonder." "where did the hail come from, nat?" said my uncle, with a sigh of relief. "seemed to be from among the trees a hundred yards forward there to the left." "run her close in, then, and hail, my lad," he cried. he had hardly spoken before the wind failed again, and they bent to their oars. "where are you, pete?" i shouted. "here, among the trees," came back, and i steered the boat in the direction, eagerly searching the great green wall of verdure, but seeing nothing save a bird or two. "are you ashore?" i shouted. "nay! it's all water underneath me. come on, sir. here i am." a few more strokes of the oars ran us close in beneath the pendent boughs, and the next minute the carpenter caught hold of one of the overhanging branches and kept the boat there, while pete descended from where he had climbed, to lower himself into the boat and sit down shivering and dripping. "thought he'd got me, sir," he said, looking white. "i dived down, though, and only come up once, but dove again so as to come up under the trees; and then i found a place where i could pull myself up. it was precious hard, though. i kep' 'specting one of 'em would pull me back, till i was up yonder; and it arn't safe there." "why not?" i said. "there's great monkeys yonder, and the biggest snake i ever see, master nat." "but did you not see the boat? didn't you see us hunting for you?" said my uncle angrily. "no, sir; i had all i could do to swim to one of the trees, diving down so as the 'gators shouldn't see me; and when i did get up into the tree, you'd gone back down the river, so that i couldn't see nothing of you." "but why didn't you shout, pete?" said the carpenter. "everyone's been afraid you was drowned." "who was going to shout when there was a great snake curled up in knots like a ship's fender right over your head? think i wanted to wake him up? then there was two great monkeys." "great monkeys!" said my uncle. "pray, how big were they?" "dunno, sir, but they looked a tidy size, and whenever i moved they begun to make faces and call me names." "what did they call you, pete?" i said. "i dunno, master nat. you see, it was all furren, and i couldn't understand it; but one of 'em was horrid howdacious: he ran along a bough till he was right over my head, and then he took hold with his tail and swung himself to and fro and chattered, and said he'd drop on my head if i dared to move." "are you sure he said that, pete?" said my uncle drily. "well, sir, i can't be quite sure, because i couldn't understand him; but it seemed something like that." "yes, but i'm afraid there was a good deal of imagination in it, pete, and that you have bad eyes." "oh, no, sir," said pete; "my eyes are all right." "they cannot be," said my uncle; "they must magnify terribly. now then, take off your wet clothes, wring them out, and hang them up in the sun, while we look after this huge serpent and the gigantic monkeys. draw the boat along by the boughs, cross, till we can look through that opening. be ready with your gun, nat. put in a couple of those swanshot cartridges. you shall do the shooting." i hurriedly changed the charges in my double gun and sat in my place, looking up eagerly, trying to pierce the green twilight and tangle of crossing boughs, while pete slowly slipped off his dripping shirt and trousers, watching me the while. "see anything yet?" said my uncle, as he helped cross to push the boat along, pulling the boughs aside, which forced him to lower the sail and unship the mast. "no, uncle; the boughs are too thick--yes--yes, i can see a monkey hanging by his tail." "a six-footer? bring him down, then. we must have his skin." "six-footer? no!" i said. "it's about as big as a fat baby." "i thought so," said my uncle. "never mind the poor little thing; look-out for the monstrous snake. i daresay it's one of the anacondas crept up out of the river. see it?" "no, uncle; but there might be a dozen up there." "keep on looking. you must see it if it's as big as pete here says. was it close to the trunk, my lad?" "not very, sir; it was just out a little way, where the boughs spread out." "i see it!" i cried. "keep the boat quite still. it's curled up all in a knot." "a hundred feet long?" said my uncle, laughing. "not quite, uncle." "well, fifty?" "i don't think so, uncle." "five-and-twenty, then?" "oh, no," i said; "it's rather hard to tell, because of the way she folds double about; but i should think it's twelve feet long." "i thought so," said my uncle. "pete, you'll have to wear diminishing glasses." "that aren't the one, sir," said pete gruffly. "shall i shoot, uncle?" "no; we don't want the skin, and it would be a very unpleasant task to take it off. push off, cross, and let's go up the stream. i want to get to clearer parts, where we can land and make some excursions." pete hung his head when i looked at him, but he said no more, and a couple of hours after, with his clothes thoroughly dry, he was helping to navigate the boat, rowing, poling, and managing the sail till night fell, when we once more moored to a great tree trunk, as we had made a practice all the way up, and slept in safety on board, with the strange noises of the forest all around. chapter seven. snakes and pumas. it was a relief at last, after many days of hard work, sailing and rowing and poling over the shallows by means of the light bamboos we cut upon the banks, to find that we were well above the dense, jungle-like forest where, save in places, landing was impossible. instead of creeping along between the two high walls of verdure, the river ran clear, shallow, and sparkling, among gravelly beds and rocks; while, though the growth was abundant on banks, there were plenty of open places full of sunshine and shadow, where flowers bloomed and birds far brighter in colour flitted from shrub to shrub, or darted in flocks among the trees. mountains rose up in the distance, and every now and then we had glorious peeps of the valleys, which near at hand were of the richest golden-green, but in the distance gradually grew from amethyst into the purest blue. "at last!" cried uncle dick, for we had reached the outskirts of the land he sought--one with the natural roads necessary; for by careful management we contrived to penetrate some distance up the various streams which came down from the mountains to join the main river, and when we had forced the boat up a little stream till it was aground, we there camped and made expeditions on foot in all directions, coming back to the boat with our treasures. it was difficult to decide which stream to try, and one in particular whose mouth we passed several times in our journeys to and fro attracted me--i could not tell why--and i suggested more than once that we should go up it; but uncle dick shook his head. "it is the least likely, nat," he said on one occasion, and when, after several expeditions, i proposed it again, because most of those we tried evidently bore to the north, while this had a southward tendency, he refused tetchily. "can't you see how covered it is with water-weed and tangled growth? it would be impossible to go up there without a small canoe." so i said no more, but contented myself with his choice. for of treasures we had plenty, the wild mountain valleys swarming with beautifully plumaged birds, especially with those tiny little objects which were actually less than some of the butterflies and moths. these humming-birds we generally shot with sand, sometimes merely with the wad of the cartridge, and even at times brought them down by the concussion caused by firing with powder only, when very near. i was never tired of examining these little gems of the bird world, and wondering at their excessive beauty in their dazzling hues, exactly like those of the precious stones from which they are named--ruby, emerald, topaz, sapphire, amethyst, and the like. "it caps me," pete used to say, as he stared with open mouth when i carefully skinned the tiny creatures to preserve them. then came the day when, after a long tramp along with pete, we found ourselves at the end of a narrow valley, with apparently no farther progress to be made. we had started, after an early breakfast in the boat, and left my uncle there to finish off the drying of some skins ready for packing in a light case of split bamboo which the carpenter had made; and with one gun over my shoulder, a botanist's collecting-box for choice birds, and pete following with another gun and a net for large birds slung over his shoulder, we had tramped on for hours, thinking nothing of the heat and the sun-rays which flashed off the surface of the clear shallow stream we were following, for the air came down fresh and invigorating from the mountains. we had been fairly successful, for i had shot four rare humming-birds; but so far we had seen no specimens of the gorgeous quetzal, and it was for these that our eyes wandered whenever we reached a patch of woodland, but only to startle macaws, parroquets, or the clumsy-looking--but really light and active--big-billed toucans, which made pete shake his head. "they're all very well, with their orange and red throats, or their pale primrose or white, master nat; but i don't see no good in birds having great bills like that." we had a bit of an adventure, too, that was rather startling, as we slowly climbed higher in tracking the course of the little stream towards its source in the mountain. as we toiled on where the rocks rose like walls on either side, and the ground was stony and bare, the rugged glittering in the sunshine, pete had got on a few yards ahead through my having paused to transfer a gorgeous golden-green beetle to our collecting-box. i was just thinking that the absence of grass or flowers was probably due to the fact that the flooded stream must at times run all over where we were walking, the narrow valley looking quite like the bed of a river right up to the rocks on either side, when pete shouted to me-- "come and look, master nat. what's this here? want to take it?" i looked, and then fired the quickest shot i ever discharged in my life. i hardly know how i managed it; but one moment i was carrying my gun over my shoulder, the next i had let the barrels fall into my left hand and fired. pete leapt off the ground, uttering a yell which would have made anyone who could have looked on imagine that i had shot him. he dropped the gun he carried and turned round to face me. "what did you do that for, master nat?" he cried. "for that," i said, pointing, and then raising my piece to my shoulder, i fired again at something writhing and twining among the loose stones. "thought you meant to shoot me, sir," said pete, picking up the gun and covering a dint he had made in the stock, as he stared down at the object that was now dying fast. "well, it's of no good now. you've reg'larly spoiled it." "do you know what that is?" i said, with my heart beating fast. "course i do," he said with a laugh. "snake." "yes, the most deadly snake out here. if i had waited till you touched it you would have been stung; and that generally means death." "my word!" said pete, shrinking away. "think of it, sir! shouldn't have liked that, master nat. what snake is it?" "a rattlesnake." "i didn't hear him rattle. but i was just going to lay hold of him behind his ears and pick him up." "and yet uncle told you to beware of poisonous snakes." "ah! so he did, sir; but i wasn't thinking about what he said then. so that's his rattle at the end of his tail, with a sting in it." "nonsense!" i cried. "rattlesnakes do not sting." "hark at him!" cried pete, addressing nobody. then to me-- "why, you said just now they did." "i meant bite." "but wapses have their stings in their tails." "but rattlesnakes do not," i said. "look here." i drew the hunting knife i carried, and with one chop took off the dangerous reptile's head. then picking it up i opened the jaws and showed him the two keen, hollow, poisonous fangs which rose erect when the jaws gaped. "seem too little to do any harm, master nat," said pete, rubbing his head. "well, i shall know one of them gentlemen another time.--oh, don't chuck it away!" he cried. "i should like to put that head in a box and save it." "too late, pete," i said, for i had just sent the head flying into the rippling stream; and after reloading we went on again till it seemed as if we were quite shut in. for right in front was a towering rock, quite perpendicular above a low archway, at whose foot the stream rushed gurgling out, while the sides of the narrow ravine in which we were rose up like a wall. "we shall have to go back, pete, i suppose," i said, as i looked upon either side. "i wouldn't, sir," he replied; "it's early yet." "but we couldn't climb up there." "oh, yes, we could, sir, if we took it a bit at a time." pete was right. i had looked at the task all at once, but by taking it a bit at a time we slowly climbed up and up till we reached to where there was a gentle slope dotted with patches of woodland, and looking more beautiful than the part we had travelled over that day. it was just as we had drawn ourselves up on to the gentle slope which spread away evidently for miles, that pete laid his hand upon my arm and pointed away to the left. "look!" he whispered; "thing like a great cat. there she goes." but i did not look, for i had caught sight of a couple of birds gliding through the air as if they were finishing their flight and about to alight. "look there!" i panted excitedly, as i watched for the place where the birds would pitch, which proved to be out of sight, beyond a clump of trees. "this way, master nat," whispered pete. "no, no; this way," i said hoarsely. and i hurried forward, having to get over about a hundred yards before i could reach the patch behind which the birds had disappeared. my heart beat faster with excitement as well as exertion as i checked my pace on reaching the trees and began to creep softly along in their shelter, till all at once there was a harsh scream, followed by a dozen more, as a little flock of lovely green parroquets took flight, and pete stopped short for me to fire. but i did not; i only kept on, wondering whether the objects of my search would take fright. they did the next moment, and i fired at what seemed like a couple of whirring patches of orange, one of which to my great joy fell, while the other went right away in a straight line, showing that it had not been touched. "that's got him!" cried pete excitedly. and he ran forward to pick up the bird, while i began to reload, but stopped in astonishment, for from some bushes away to the left, in a series of bounds, a magnificent puma sprang into sight, and seemed to be racing pete so as to get first to the fallen bird. pete was nearest, and would have been there first, but he suddenly caught sight of the great active cat and stopped short. this had the effect of making the puma stop short too, and stand lashing its tail and staring at pete as if undecided what to do. i ought to have behaved differently, but i was as much taken by surprise as pete, and i, too, stood staring instead of reloading my gun, while it never once occurred to the lad that he had one already charged in his hand. suddenly, to my astonishment, he snatched off his straw hat. "shoo!" he cried, and sent it skimming through the air at the puma. the effect was all he desired, for the beautiful animal sprang round and bounded away towards the nearest patch of forest, pete after him till he reached his hat, which he picked up in triumph and stuck on his head again, grinning as he returned. "that's the way to scare that sort, master nat," he cried. and he reached me again just as i stooped to pick up the fallen bird. "cock of the rocks, pete," i cried triumphantly, too much excited to think about the puma. "is he, sir?" said pete. "well, he ran away like a hen." "no, no! i mean this bird. isn't it a beauty?" "he just is, sir. lives on oranges, i s'pose, to make him that colour." "i don't know what it lived on," i said as i regularly gloated over the lovely bird with its orange plumage and soft wheel-like crest of feathers from beak to nape. "this must go in your net, pete; but you must carry it very carefully." "i will, master nat. going back now?" "back? no," i cried. "we must follow up that other one. i saw which way it flew. uncle will be in ecstasies at our having found a place where they come." "will he, sir? thought it was golden-green birds with long tails. quizzals. that one's got hardly any tail at all." "he wants these too," i said, closing the breech of my gun. "come along." "but how about that there big cat, sir? he's gone down that way." "we must fire at it if it comes near again, or you must throw your hat," i said, laughing. "all right, sir, you know. only if he or she do turn savage, it might be awkward." "i don't think they're dangerous animals, pete," i said; "and we must have that other bird, and we may put up more. here, i'll go first." "nay, play fair, master nat," said pete; "let's go side by side." "yes, but a little way apart. open out about thirty feet, and then let's go forward slowly. i think we shall find it among those trees yonder." "the big cat, sir?" said pete. "no, no!" i cried; "the other bird, the cock of the rocks. now then, forward." a little flock of brightly-coloured finches flew up before we had gone a hundred yards, but i was so excited by the prospect of getting my prize's mate that these seemed of no account, and we went on, my intention being to fire at the cock of the rocks, and nothing else, unless the golden plumage of a quetzal flashed into sight. in another five minutes we had forgotten all about the puma, for we were leaving the trees where it had disappeared away to our left, and we went on and on, starting birds again and again, till we had passed over a quarter of a mile and were pushing on amongst open clumps of bushes with patches of woodland here and there. pete was abreast of me with the other gun, and i was sweeping the ground before me in search of the orange plumage of the bird i sought, which might spring up at any time, when i had to pass round a pile of rugged stones half covered with herbage. "sort of place for snakes to bask," i said to myself, as i gave it a little wider berth, when all at once, to my surprise, up rose with a whirr not the bird i sought, but a little flock of seven or eight, and as i raised my gun to fire at the group of whizzing orange--_thud_! something heavy had bounded from the pile of stone i had passed, to alight full upon my shoulders. _bang, bang_! went both barrels of my gun, and the next moment i was down, spread-eagle fashion, on my face, conscious of the fact that what was probably the puma's mate had bounded right upon me as i stooped forward to fire, and as i heard pete utter a yell of horror, the beast's muzzle was pressed down on the back of my neck, and its hot breath stirred the roots of my hair. chapter eight. a lucky escape. for a few minutes, or a few moments, i cannot tell which, i lay there half stunned. then i began to think that i should be torn to pieces and devoured, and my next vivid thought took the form of a question--will it hurt much? this set me wondering whether i was already badly injured, and as i had read that people who are seriously hurt do not feel pain at the time, i took it for granted that i was in a very sad state. but all the same i did not feel torn by the creature's claws, nor yet as if its teeth had been driven into the back of my neck, though i supposed that they had been. what i did feel was that the puma was heavy, soft, and very hot. "then i can't be hurt," i reasoned with myself at last, "or i should feel the pain now," and with this i began to think it was time to do something; but i hesitated about beginning, for i could make no use of my discharged gun. there was my knife, though, if i could get it out from its sheath in my belt, and feeling that, if it were to come to a struggle, my empty hands would be no match for the puma's teeth and claws, i began to steal my fingers towards my belt. i stopped directly, though, for at the first movement there was a deep shuddering growl at the nape of my neck, and it seemed to run down my spine and out at the tips of my fingers and toes. it was just as if the puma were saying-- "you just lie still, or i'll bite." that must have been the meaning, for i lay quite still with the great heat drops tickling my face and running in the roots of my hair, while the puma crouched upon my back so that i could feel its shape exactly. "what can i do?" i said to myself, and then i remembered the old story about the traveller and the bear--how he shammed death, and the bear left him. that was what i felt that i must do, and i lay perfectly still in the hope that the puma would leave me, though it seemed quite to approve of its couch, and lay close, breathing steadily, so that i felt the rise and fall of its breast against my back. just when i was beginning to feel faint with the heat and excitement, a thrill ran through me, for from somewhere close at hand, but invisible to me in the position i occupied, i heard pete's voice-- "oh, master nat, master nat! are you killed?" "no," i cried; but i said no more, for there was a savage growl, a snap, and i felt myself seized at the back of the neck and shaken, but the puma had only seized the collar of my loose jacket, so that i was unhurt still. "what shall i do, master nat?" cried pete. the puma loosed its hold of the collar of my jacket, and i felt it raise its head as if looking in the direction of pete, and it growled fiercely again. "shoot, pete, shoot!" i cried, feeling that at all risks i must speak. the puma's teeth gripped my collar again, and i could fell its claws glide out of their sheaths like a cat's and press upon my shoulders, giving me a warning of what the beast could do. but its attention was taken off directly by pete's voice, and it raised its head again and growled at him as if daring him to approach and rob it of its prey. for pete cried in a despairing tone-- "i dursn't shoot, master nat, i dursn't shoot. i aren't clever with a gun, and i should hit you." i knew this was quite true, and that under the circumstances i dared not have fired, so i lay perfectly still, trying to think out what to do, for the animal seemed determined not to leave me, and i began to grow giddy as well as faint. then i started, for there was a rustling of the grass and a sharp crack, as if pete had trodden upon a dead twig. the puma growled again furiously, and then as i started, seized my collar tight in its teeth and shook me, for the sharp report of the gun pete carried rang out, followed by that of a second barrel, when i heard the loud whirr of wings, and felt sure that three or four more specimens of the lovely orange-tinted birds i sought had been scared into flight. but the firing in the air had not scared the puma, which lowered its head again and seized my collar, clinging tightly, and working its claws in and out of their sheaths. "it's no good, master nat," cried pete; "it don't frighten him a bit. shall i run back and tell the doctor?" "no," i said softly, so as not to irritate the puma; "you could not get back till after dark, and i should be dead before then." "what shall i do then, master nat? what shall i do? i want to save you, but i'm such a coward. i don't care, though; he shall have my knife into him if i die for it! ah, i know!" he cried exultingly, "whoo--hoo--oo--oo--oo!" to my astonishment and delight, just as i was nearly fainting, the puma gave a furious growl and a tremendous bound, leaving me free, and as i struggled to my feet, panting and exhausted, i caught sight of pete twenty yards away in the act of picking up his straw hat, with which he returned to me, grinning with delight. "that done it," he cried. "he couldn't understand it a bit, i sent my old hat skimming at him, and i say, he did cut away. i say, you aren't much hurt, are you, sir?" "n-no," i said hesitatingly, "i think not. look at my neck and shoulder. see if they bleed." "yes," cried pete excitedly, "he's got hold of you at the back o' the neck and ragged you. where's your hankychy?" i turned deathly sick with horror as i drew out my handkerchief and gave it to him; and then i felt ashamed of myself, for pete burst out laughing. "he aren't touched your neck, master nat," he cried, "on'y got hold of the collar of your jacket and chawed it a bit. i say, who'd ha' thought an old straw hat was better than a gun!" "can we get some water?" i said hoarsely. "yes, there's some trickles down into a bit of a pool yonder, where i found my hat. come on." a few minutes later i was bathing my hands and face, after we had lain down and drunk heartily of the sweet, cool, clear water, to rise up refreshed, and as the puma had disappeared, feeling as if the danger through which we had passed was very far away. "how d'yer feel now, master nat?" asked pete. "oh, better; much better," i said quickly. "good job he didn't begin eating of you, ain't it, sir?" "yes, pete, a very good job," i said heartily. "then let's go on and shoot some more of them yaller birds." i shook my head as i held out one hand, which was trembling. "i don't think i could hit a bird now, pete, after that upset." "oh, yes, you could, sir," he cried. "let's go on; and i say, if you see my gentleman again, you pepper him, and he won't come near us any more." "i don't know, pete," i said thoughtfully; "the pain might make it more vicious. let's get back to the boat. i feel as if i've done quite enough for one day." i finished reloading my gun as i spoke, so as to be ready for emergencies, and turned to retrace our steps to the rocky descent to the stream, when pete touched my arm. "coming back here to drink," he whispered. i forgot all about the shock and nervousness the next moment, as i saw the flutter of approaching wings, and directly after my gun rang out with two reports, while as the smoke floated away, pete triumphantly ran to where a couple of the orange birds had fallen. "i say, master nat," he said, "you can shoot. wish i could do that. you seem just to hold the gun up and it's done. i knew you could. they are beauties. something better worth taking back than we had before." the birds' plumage was carefully smoothed, and without further adventure we reached the top of the vast rocky wall and descended to the stream, where we had another refreshing draught close to the mouth of the natural arch through which the water flowed, and then tramped back to the boat, reaching it at sundown, where my uncle was, as i had said, in ecstasies with the beautiful birds we had brought. i was as pleased, but just then i thought more of the pleasant roast-bird supper and the coffee that awaited us, and paid more attention to these than anything else. over the supper, though, i related our experience with the pumas, and my uncle looked serious. "you got off well, nat," he said. "they are not dangerous beasts, though, unless attacked and hurt. i'd give them as wide a berth in future as i could. i'm thankful that you had such an escape." chapter nine. through the cavern. my uncle accompanied me in my next and several other visits to the upper valley, with the result that we obtained as many specimens of the beautiful orange birds as we required, and in addition several rare kinds of humming-birds; but strangely enough, anxious as i was that my uncle should see one of the pumas they were never encountered once. the whole of the upper valley was very lovely, and the air, from its being so high up among the mountains, deliciously cool. "it seems a pity," my uncle said, "that nobody lives here." for as far as we could make out in our many journeys, human beings had never penetrated its solitudes. "yes," i said, on one of these occasions, "it is a glorious place, uncle, and anyone might make it a lovely garden with hardly any trouble; but i shouldn't like to live here after all." "why?" he said. "you seem very hard to please." "the place isn't perfect, uncle," i said. "no place is, but i don't see much to find fault with. oh, you mean that we can find no quetzals." "no, i did not," i said. "i meant we find too many rattlesnakes." "ah, yes, they are a nuisance, nat; but they always get out of our way if they can, and so long as they don't bite us we need not complain. well, we have pretty well explored this valley, and it is time we tried another. we must get farther to the south." "why not strike off, then, from the top of the great cliff above the arch, and try and find where the stream dives down?" "what!" he said; "you don't think, then, that the stream rises entirely there?" "no," i said; "i fancy it dives underground when it reaches a mountain, and comes out where we saw." "quite likely," he said, jumping at the idea. "we'll try, for we have had some beautiful specimens from the woodlands on the banks of that stream. perhaps we may find my golden-green trogons up there after all, for i feel sure that there are some to be found up among the head-waters of the river." the next day preparations were made for our expedition, and as the country we were in seemed to be so completely uninhabited from its unsuitability for agricultural purposes, and the little attraction it had for hunters other than such as we, there was no occasion to mind leaving the boat. the carpenter and pete were in high glee at the news that they were to accompany us, and in the intervals of packing up, their delight was expressed by furtive punches and slaps delivered when one or the other was not looking. "i am glad, mr nat," bill cross said to me when we were alone for a few minutes overnight. "i'm not grumbling, sir, and i like making cases and cooking and washing, but i do feel sometimes as if i'd give anything to be able to shoulder a gun and come along with you gents, shooting and hunting for curiosities." "well, you'll have a fine chance now, bill," i said. "yes, sir, and it'll just be a treat; for i haven't had much of the fun so far, have i?" "fun?" i said. "yes, sir; it's fun to a chap like me who when he goes to sleep of a night it's with the feeling that there's a day's work done." "so it is with all of us," i said. "i work very hard; so does my uncle." "yes, sir; but don't you see that what's work to you as can go and do is seems like play to me as is obliged to stay in camp--i mean with the boat. but as i was going to say, after a night's rest when one wakes up it's always to begin another day's work! but there, don't you think i'm grumbling, sir, because i arn't; for i've never been so happy in my life before as since i've been out here with you and the doctor. what time do we start to-morrow?" "breakfast before daylight, and start as soon as we can see," i replied. "right, sir; i'll be ready." there was so little novelty in a fresh trip to me then, that i dropped asleep as soon as i lay down in the tent under a big tree ashore, and it seemed like the next minute when the carpenter in his gruff voice called to us that breakfast was nigh ready. i looked up, to see his face by the lanthorn he had brought alight, as he hung it from a hook on the tent-pole; and then after making sure that my uncle was awake, i hurried out into the darkness, where pete was busy frizzling bacon over the glowing embers, ran down into the fresh, cool water for my bath, and came out with my blood seeming to dance through my veins. our breakfast was soon dispatched, and before the sun rose the tent had been fastened up, our guns and satchels shouldered and swung, and in addition cross carried a coil of rope and the lanthorn, now out and freshly trimmed. "be useful," he said, with a sage nod of the head. "s'pose we shall be out all night." the next minute he and pete shouldered the extra guns and the packs they were to carry in case our trip lasted over more than a couple of days; and we set off in single file steadily up the side of the stream between the walls of rock, and sometimes wading across it to find better ground. twice over we waded in the middle of the water, where it was sandy, and found it nowhere over our knees. in due time we reached the spot where the walls of the gorge had drawn together and the end was closed by the perpendicular mountain at whose foot was the little natural arch out of which the water came gurgling swiftly. here my uncle stopped for the load-bearers to have a short rest before we began to climb upward to puma vale, as i had dubbed it. pete and cross used their loads as seats, and the latter, who had not seen the place before, sat looking about attentively, while my uncle took out his little double-glass and examined the towering mountain for signs of birds upon the ledges or trees which clung to the sides. the carpenter turned to me and nodded. "strange pretty place, mr nat," he cried, "and it's just like pete said it was. going up yonder to try and find the river again farther on, aren't we?" "yes, and i think we shall find it." "wouldn't it be better to keep on up it? should be sure of it then." "but don't you see that we can go no farther?" i said wonderingly. "no, sir, i don't. water's not above eighteen inches deep, and it's nice sandy bottom." "but it nearly touches the top of the arch," i said. "just there it do, sir, but that's only the doorway; it may be ever so high inside. p'raps i'm wrong, though. you've tried it, then?" "what, tried to get under that horrible dark arch? oh, no!" "why not?" said the man coolly. "i don't see nothing horrid. dessay it'll be dark, but we've a lanthorn." "but we should have to wade, and in the darkness we might go down some horrible hole." cross shook his head. "nay," he said; "you might do that if the water was running the other way downward, but we should have to go up stream with the water coming to us. we shouldn't find any holes; what we should find more likely would be waterfalls, and have to climb up 'em." "what's that?" cried my uncle, who had caught part of what was said, and he was told the rest. "let's have a look, nat," he said, and slipping off our boots and stockings we waded on over the soft sand to where the water came rushing out through the arch, stooping down and peering in as we listened to the gurgling and whispering of the water. "shall we have the lanthorn, and i'll stoop down and see if the roof gets higher farther in?" i said. "would you mind doing it?" said my uncle. "i don't think i should like it much," i said; "but i'll try." "let me go, master nat, sir," said pete eagerly; "i won't mind." "sounds as if there's plenty of room inside, sir," said cross, who had followed our example and waded in. "let's see," said my uncle, stooping down, after cocking his gun. then holding it as if it were a pistol, he reached in as far as he could and fired both barrels. the reports sounded dull and smothered, and as we listened my uncle said: "it is only a narrow passage, i think." then he was silent, for the reports were repeated ten times as loudly, and went on reverberating again and again, from farther and farther away, till they gradually grew indistinct and strange, for there was a strange dull roar growing louder and louder till the echoes were drowned, while the roar seemed to come on and on, till without hesitation on anyone's part we turned and ran splashing out of the stream to the shore, to escape from a dark rushing cloud which came streaming out of the mouth of the cave with screams, hisses, and whisperings, out and away down the narrow ravine till it seemed to be filled with birds and bats, while a strange black-beetly odour assailed our nostrils. "no doubt about there being plenty of room, lads," said my uncle, as he laughed at our scared faces, for the sudden rush out was startling. "is them owls, sir?" said the carpenter, staring. "no, no," replied my uncle; "they are something of the goat-sucker tribe--night-birds which build in caves; but a good half of what we see are bats." "yes, i can see they're bats, sir, and the biggest i ever did see. well, they won't hurt us, sir?" "no, but they're terribly afraid we shall hurt them," said my uncle. "well, nat, what do you say? shall we explore the underground river?" i felt as if i should like to say, "no, i would rather not," but the pride within me made me take the other view of the matter. "yes," i said, "of course," and the sense of unwillingness was forgotten in the desire to laugh at the look of horror in pete's face as he stared appealingly from one to the other. "you won't mind, cross?" said my uncle. "no, sir; i should like it," replied the man. "light the lanthorn." "shall we take our loads with us, uncle?" i said. "certainly. if the way through is short we shall want them at the other side. if it is long we shall want some refreshments on the way." "but suppose--" i began, and then i stopped. "suppose what?" said my uncle. "suppose the river does not pass through the mountain, but comes from deep down somewhere." "the more interesting the discovery of its hidden source, my lad. but that is not likely. look at the rock. what is it--granite or gneiss?" "no," i said; "limestone." "well, you ought to know how limestone ridges are honeycombed with water-formed caverns. we have several examples at home. if this subterranean river came bubbling up from somewhere in the interior and the rock were granite, i should expect it to be hot." "and it's quite cold, sir," said cross. "oh, no, just pleasantly cool. i don't think there's a doubt about its having its source higher up in the mountains; but whether it has dived down for a few hundred yards or a few miles we can only know by exploring." "well, cross," i said to the carpenter, "will this be fun enough for you?" "splendid, sir," said the man enthusiastically. "i never had a treat like this." "master nat," whispered pete, "am i to come too?" "of course," i said. "tuck up your trousers as high as you can." "but suppose we have to swim, sir?" "look here, pete," i said, "you don't want to come." "no, sir. can't help it, sir, but i never could a-bear the dark." "then i'll ask my uncle to let you stop behind." "what!" cried the poor fellow fiercely, "leave me behind, and you go? that you just won't, sir. i'd go if it was twice as dark." i saw him set his teeth, and then, as my uncle gave the word, he climbed up to a verdant cleft with cross to cut four stout bamboos about six feet long to act as walking-staves. "we must always be ready to feel our way and try the depth," said uncle dick; "and avoid any holes. if it grows deeper as we go on and there is no bare rock at the sides, of course we must return." a few minutes later our guns were slung across our backs, the loads taken up, and, each armed with a staff, we made our start--cross, as he held the lanthorn, asking leave to lead the way. "we shan't be able to do it, master nat," whispered pete, as we followed in turn, pete last, for it was very hard work, the barrels of our guns scraping again and again against the roof during the first twenty yards or so; but pete had hardly uttered the above words before i saw cross raise the lanthorn higher. then my uncle began to walk erect, and directly after i found on raising my staff that i could not touch the roof, while a sharp whistle uttered by our lanthorn-bearer was echoed from far on high. "plenty of room upwards, sir," cried cross. "yes," said my uncle. "ugh! what a horrid place, master nat!" whispered pete, who kept as close to me as he could. "do mind, sir." "mind what?" i said. "the holes. if you step into one of them there's no knowing how deep they are. they must be just like wells." "how do you know?" i said gruffly; and he was silent, giving me time to look to right and left and forward, as far as the light of the lanthorn would allow. there was not much to see--only a faint halo of light, with reflections sometimes from dripping rocks; but it seemed that there was no shore to the river on either side such as would afford footing, while as far as i could make out the stream was about the same width as it was outside. there was the dancing light on ahead, playing strangely on the surface of the gliding waters, and all around black darkness, while the vast cavern in which we were, seemed to be filled with strange sounds, splashings, ripplings, whisperings, and their echoes. "hear that, master nat?" said pete, getting close beside me and grasping my arm. "of course i can," i said pettishly, for it was bad enough to suffer from one's own feelings, without being troubled at such a time by others. "but--oh, there it goes again," he whispered. "what goes again?" i said. "that, sir. i dunno what it is, but there seems to be lots of 'em. bill cross stirs 'em up with the stick and the light, and they swims off both sides, and then you can hear 'em splashing with their tails as they come back again." "nonsense!" i said. "that's all imagination." "oh, no, it aren't, sir," he whispered. "i say, what did you say was the name of them big snakes that lives part of their time in the water?" "anacondas." "that's them, sir. we've got all amongst 'em here, and they'll be having one of us directly." "pooh! there's nothing alive in this dark place," i said scornfully. "what! why, wasn't it alive with birds and bats?" "oh, yes, but i don't believe there's a fish in these dark waters." "fish! oh, i don't mind fish, sir, as long as they aren't sharks. it's them conders i can't bear. it wouldn't so much matter if we were in the dark, but we've brought a light to show 'em where we are." "there are no snakes here," i said angrily. "it's all very well for you to say so, master nat," he replied; "but you just listen. there! hear that?" "yes, the splash against the side of the wave we make in wading." pete was about to say something more, but just then my uncle turned his head. "use your bamboo well, nat," he said, "in case of there being any cracks; but the bottom seems very level, and the depth keeps about the same. nice and cool here. keep close up. what's that, cross?" "only a stone standing right up, sir; water washes round it. it's best to keep right in the middle, i think." "you must judge about that," said my uncle. "go on." "how far do you think we've come, sir, now?" "about a quarter of a mile, i should say." "that's what i thought, sir," said the carpenter, and he waded steadily on, with us following. after a time it grew very monotonous, but we persevered, finding the underground river sometimes a little deeper, then shallower, so that the water rippled just above our ankles, while we knew at times that the cavern was wide and high, at others that it closed in on either side, and twice over the roof was so close that i could touch it with my stick. the times when it opened out were plain enough, for our splashings or voices echoed and went whispering far away. but otherwise the journey was very tame, and as the feeling of awe died away, the journey seemed uncommonly free from danger, for i felt it was absurd to imagine the waters to be peopled with strange creatures. we had been wading on for quite a couple of hours, when the water began to grow more sluggish, and to flow very quietly, rising, too, higher and higher, till it was above our waists, and the light reflected from the surface showed that it was very smooth. "keep on, sir?" said cross. "yes," said my uncle. "keep on till it nearly touches your chin. then we'll turn back." pete uttered a low groan, but followed in a despairing way, while we went on for another quarter of an hour, with the water deeper and deeper, and at last, to our great delight, my uncle said: "there, the water is rippling up in my beard, so it is time to go back." "hah!" ejaculated pete, and then he groaned, for cross said: "not so deep now as it was ten minutes ago, sir." "are you sure?" "yes, sir. i know by my stick. i keep my hand so that it touches the water, and i've had to move it twice in the last five minutes. it's not so deep now by three inches." "go on, then," said my uncle, and we followed, to find the water getting shallower rapidly now. ten minutes later it was below my waist, and in another ten minutes not above mid-thigh; but it had evidently widened out, for our voices seemed to go off far away into the distance, and my uncle suddenly said: "why, nat, the river must have widened out into a regular lake. how shall we find the place where it narrows again?" "foller that there sound, sir, i think," said cross. "what sound?" i said. "that, sir; listen. i can hear where it seems to be rushing in ever so far away." "yes, i can hear it now," i said. "forward, then," said my uncle, and with the water once more but little above our knees we waded steadily on after the light which cross bore breast-high. "cheer up, pete," i said; "we must be getting on now. why, if it came to the worst we could turn back." "never find the way, sir," he said bitterly, and then he uttered a yell, closely following upon a sharp ejaculation from the carpenter, who suddenly placed his foot in some cavity of the smooth floor, fell forward with an echoing splash, and the next moment the lanthorn disappeared beneath the gleaming surface, leaving us in utter darkness. _wash, wash, ripple, ripple_ went the water, and the cries whispered away as fading echoes, and then pete's voice rose in a piteous wail. "i knowed it, i knowed it," he said. "we shall never see the light again. oh, help, master nat, help! here's one of them water-conders got me by the leg to pull me down." a cry that went to my heart and sent a shudder through every nerve, for the darkness seemed so thick that it might be felt. chapter ten. into the sunlight again. there was a loud splashing noise, another cry, and the gurgling made by someone being dragged under water; and then, just as i felt that the horror was greater than i could bear, the carpenter cried: "what's the matter with you? don't make a row like that." "i--i felt something ketch hold of me and pulling me down." "something! do you call me something?" growled the carpenter. "of course i catched hold of you. you'd catch hold if you tumbled as i did. bad job about the light, master." "yes, a very bad job," said my uncle's voice out of the darkness. "how was it?" "stepped down into some hole, sir. felt myself going right into a crack-like sort o' place." "all stand still, then," cried my uncle, "while i strike a match. where's the lanthorn?" "oh, i've got that fast, sir; but you won't get the wick to light, i'm afraid, now." "here, stop!" i cried, as a sudden feeling of delight shot through me. "i can see daylight yonder." "bravo! well done, nat!" cried my uncle. "it's a long way off, but there's a faint gleam yonder in the direction from which that sound of falling water comes. let me lead now, cross. i think i can manage without a light." "better feel about well, sir, with your stick," said the carpenter. "that hole i trod in was rather awkward." "i'll mind," said my uncle; "follow me close," and he began to wade in the direction of the faint gleam of light. "did you get wet, pete?" i said. "wet, sir? he pulled me right under water. it's buzzing in my ears now." "better than being pulled under by a water-snake, pete," i said, and he gave a shivering shudder as we followed on without either coming across the hole, and at the end of a quarter of an hour the light ahead was rapidly growing plainer, while the roar of falling water became louder and echoed through the vast cavern over whose watery floor we progressed. in another half-hour's slow wading, we were able to make out our position, one which now became more striking minute by minute, for we could see that we were in a vast chasm whose bottom was the rushing foaming river along which we were wading. it was some fifty feet wide, and the roof overhead nearly as much, while right in front, at the distance of a couple of hundred yards, and facing us as it now sent ever-changing flashes and reflections of light into the cavern, was the great fall whose waters thundered as they dived from somewhere out of sight into a huge basin whose overflowings formed the underground river along which we journeyed. the scene became more beautiful minute by minute, the noise more deafening; and at last we stopped short, warned by the increasing depth of the water, and the sight of the great pool into which the cascade thundered down. we were standing in the beautiful green twilight water to the middle, but no one for a time wished to stir, the scene was so grand, made more beautiful as it was from time to time by a gleam of sunshine shooting down across the faint mist of spray which floated upwards, and wherever this bright light fell we had glimpses of what seemed like fragments of a broken rainbow. "very beautiful, nat," said my uncle at last, "but the floor here is rather damp; i am tired and hungry; and we have to get out. which way shall we try?" "not go back, uncle," i said quickly. "let's get into the sunshine again." "certainly; but how? we can't wade any farther without risk of drowning. what do you say, cross?" "yonder's an awful pit, sir," said the carpenter. "i could climb over the stones at the side there," said pete suddenly. "well, i think it possible," said my uncle. "but where's that rope?" "i've got it here, sir, round me," said pete. "well, we'll make one end fast round you, and pay out the line as you climb, so that we can haul you in if you fall into the deep water. will you try?" "oh, yes, sir; i'll try," cried pete. we made for the side, to find it slightly shallower, and after knotting the rope round his waist, pete was started up the rocks, which proved, in spite of their threatening appearance much less difficult than we had anticipated, so that in a few minutes the lad had climbed to the level of the top of the falls, where he stood on a broad shelf, and by the help of the rope hauled up our baskets and satchels. this done, pete threw the rope down to us, then it was made fast to my waist and i began to climb, pete hauling in the slack as i advanced, finding the way giddy but easy to climb. the danger was a slip upon the mossy rocks, wet with the fine spray which rose from the awful watery pit below. but the touch of the rope gave confidence, and in a few minutes i was by pete's side, ready to throw down the rope to cross, who came up with the sure-footedness of a sailor. then the packs were hauled up, and my uncle followed. our task was not yet done, for we had to take to the river again, just beyond the edge of the fall, a hundred feet above where we had waded before, and found ourselves in a narrow gorge with almost perpendicular sides covered with tree, bush, creeper, and wonderful ferns, all made glorious by the sunshine and blue sky. the water was shallow, and we made fair progress, always looking the while for some way out of the gorge, whose beauties tempted us to linger, for we were once more among flowers, insects, and birds, one of the first of which sailed slowly overhead and across the gorge--an eagle with widespread pinions. "out of shot," said my uncle, as we stood knee-deep watching the large bird till it floated right out of sight. "and not the sort of specimen we want, if it were in, uncle," i said. "quite right, nat. look yonder at the finches and those lovely blue creepers; but they're not what we want." "no, uncle," i said; "i'm looking for what we do want. ought not the quetzals to be found in a place like this?" "we are in their region, nat," he replied, "and that is all i can say. we know so little about them, the skins having been mostly supplied by the indians. but these rocks and patches of timber ought to be their home." "there's a place, sir, where we might climb up out of this hollow," said cross just then, and he pointed to a mere gash in the rocks, down which a tiny rivulet trickled. it proved to be passable, and at the end of another quarter of an hour we were upon fairly level ground, open, and in the full sunshine, ready to rest, bask, dry our clothes, and sit down to what seemed to me the most delicious meal i had ever eaten. in spite of the length of time which we had apparently spent in the darkness, it was still early in the day, and it was not long, after a good rest upon a hot rock in the sunny glow, before the two sufferers from their plunge were able once more to go about in quite dry clothes. by this time we had made use of pocket compass and glass, taking bearings, so to speak, and pretty well made out our position to be only a few miles to the south and west of puma valley, while my uncle was in ecstasies with the promising appearance of the district, for as a collecting ground we had mountain, forest, plain, valley, and the lovely river-gorge waiting to be farther explored. "if the quetzals are to be found, nat," said my uncle, "we ought to see them here." "what about going back, uncle?" i said, interrupting him. "back!" he cried. "what, are you tired already?" "no, i was thinking about the possibility of getting up the tent and some more stores so as to be able to thoroughly explore these higher grounds." "yes," he said; "that's what we must do. i fancy we can make our way back without going through that hole again; but it was well worth the trouble, since it led us to this lovely ravine." "pst!" i whispered; "pete sees something. he is making signs. look, he is signing to those trees." we seized our guns and advanced cautiously in the direction pointed out, separating so as to cover all the ground, in the full expectation of seeing some rare bird or another take flight. but we met on the other side of the cluster of trees indicated, after having passed right through without a sign. "gone on to the next patch, uncle," i whispered; and we went on again, carrying out the same plans; and a finch or two took flight, but nothing more. again we went on, and tried a third little clump, but with no better fortune, and we stopped and looked at each other. "whatever it was, it is too cunning for us, nat," said my uncle, "so we may as well give it up, for we could go on like this till dark." "yes," i said, with a sigh, "and it's hot and tiring work." "never mind; let's go back now," he said. "we don't even know what it was the lad saw." we began to retrace our steps, keeping a sharp look-out, but seeing nothing but some active lizards sunning themselves among the rocks, and a rattlesnake, which we carefully left at rest; but before we were half-way back to where we had left our companions we came upon them with the spare guns. "haven't you shot it, sir?" asked pete, staring hard at my uncle. "no, we have not even seen it, whatever it is," said my uncle, smiling. "wonderful handsome bird, sir, with long blue and green and red and yellow feathers in its tail." "macaw--ara," said my uncle; "flying across from tree to tree?" "yes, sir, i daresay it was," said pete; "but it wasn't flying; it was on the ground, and when we saw it, in it went among the bushes quite slowly, didn't it, bill?" "you said it did, my lad," replied cross. "i didn't see it." "long green, blue, red, and yellow feathers in its tail?" said my uncle. "yes, sir; that's it," looking up. "and on the ground?" "yes, sir." "running?" "oh, no, sir, it was just creeping quietly along when i beckoned you." "i don't know any bird answering your description but a macaw," said my uncle. "how big was it?" "as big as a barn-door cock, sir, i think." "look here, pete; you've seen macaws, or aras, as they call them. mr nat here shot one days ago." "them big poll parrots, sir? oh no, it warn't one of them, sir. i know that sort well enough." "i hope we shall come upon it another day then," said my uncle. we had a short rest, and then turned in the direction of the river-gorge again, its presence simplifying our position, for we had only to steer south at any time to come upon the steep, well-wooded ravine, along whose sides we had constant peeps of the clear flowing water, finding several places where we could descend, while here the variety of birds, insects, and reptiles was wonderful, and had we wanted them we could soon have killed more than we should have been able to preserve. but with most of them my uncle was familiar, and unless the specimen seen was something rare, he let it go in peace. "fortune may favour us, nat," he said, "and we may come upon the home of the beautiful trogons, especially the splendid trogon, or quetzal. then we must make the best of our opportunities." i had expected that we should make our way back to the boat-camp that night, but we spent so much time exploring the wonders and beauties of the gorge, that evening was coming on when we stopped about a mile higher along the stream than the spot where we first climbed up, and as we were well supplied with provisions, and were pretty well fagged, my uncle decided to camp in the shelter of the rocky side of the ravine for the night. so pete was set to collect dead wood for a fire, cross descended with our kettle to fill it below, and before long we were partaking of a capital meat-tea by the light of the fire; while we strolled a little way from our camp to listen to the various sounds of the night, it seemed as if a fresh world of inhabitants had awakened, and for hours we listened to the strange notes of bird and insect, and watched with wonder the beauty of the fire-flies, which never seemed to grow common. the fire was burning low when we turned back to camp, and pete was stretched out on the sandy shelf beneath the great tree he had selected for our resting-place, and snoring as if he meant to make up for the hard day's work. but cross was wakeful and ready to throw a few more dry twigs upon the fire to light us as soon as he heard our steps. "seen or heard anything, cross?" i said. "crickets, and toads, and frogs, and chuckling birds who seem to think we must be foolish to come right out here into no-man's-land, sir. that's about all. how have you got on?" "had a lovely walk," i said, as i settled down in my place beneath the sheltering boughs. "good-night, uncle; good-night, everybody," and i believe that in ten minutes' time i was sleeping as soundly as if secure and well housed in a civilised land. chapter eleven. we lose the axe. "well, you can't help liking the place, master nat," said pete the next morning, as we prepared the breakfast, "even if you do have to sleep on the sand with a nubbly stone under your back. look at it; makes me feel as if i should like to be a savage indian chief, and always live here shooting and fishing." "it is lovely," i said, as i gazed around at the glorious scene. "why, you could get more birds here than you'll ever want. i think we ought to stay here instead of going away." "we're only going to fetch up more stores and the tent, pete. we must bring an axe, too, and make a shed." "then we're coming back?" "yes." "oh, that's all right, then, master nat. i did think it a pity to run away again as soon as we'd found this place." the sun was only just up when after a good breakfast we started to find our way back to the entrance of the cave where we had set off upon our dark journey; and, taking a course which he had marked out from the high ground, my uncle led the way so well that by afternoon we struck the stream again, not by the mouth of the cavern, but miles below it, so that as soon as we could find a way down to its bank we retraced our way, and reached the anchored and well-moored boat long before dark. our task now was simple. the loads we were to take up the mountain-gorge were prepared, and next morning, heavily laden, we started with the intention of staying in the neighbourhood of the upper river for a week certain. it was a hard task, laden as we were, but we managed to reach the camping-place with our heavy loads just at nightfall, one and all completely done up, and content to eat a morsel of food before lying down to sleep at once. "it's very fortunate for us that the country is quite uninhabited," i remember thinking, as i lay down and revelled in the restful sensation afforded by the soft dry sand, part of a heap which had crumbled from the side of the ravine in the course of ages. i remember no more till i was awakened by pete, who announced breakfast, and i stared confusedly in the light of the early dawn at the bright fire, and wondered where i was. that morning the tent was set up, and a rough shed was cleverly made by cross, who seemed to glory in showing us how easily he could contrive a good shelter in case we should be overtaken by a tropical storm. he selected a spot where the rock was out of the perpendicular, hanging over to some extent, and here he soon had four young straight trees set up, held in place by cross-pieces. then rafters of bamboo were bound in position with the strong creepers which abounded, and this done, he began thatching, first with green boughs, then with a layer of palm-like leaves, which he made to overlap, and a strong reedy grass, that grew abundantly in a low moist place by the river, was bound on in bundles for a finish. "capital," said my uncle; "but too much like stopping for months, when it is hardly likely we shall stay two weeks." "may as well be comfortable, sir, while we are here," said cross, smiling. "keep the sun off, if we don't have rain." that night we had everything shipshape, and retired early to rest, to enjoy a delicious sleep, which only seemed to last ten minutes before i opened my eyes to find it was morning once more, and i lay wondering what it was that cross had lost, for it seemed to me in my half-wakeful state that i heard him say: "well, no more bones about it; you had it last, and you must find it." i could not speak till i had made an effort and sat up, and then i was wakeful enough for the words to come. "what have you lost?" i asked. "my axe, sir, and i can't get along without that. it's a whole bag of tools to me. pete had it last thing to chop some wood, and he says he laid it down inside the hut; but it aren't here now, and he's got to find it." "i can't find it, master nat," said pete dolefully; "he must have took it away and laid it somewhere else himself. seems such a pity, it do." "what, to take the axe?" i said. "nay--i meant to have a bother about that, and spoiling the holiday. i know the best way to find a thing like that," he added triumphantly. "how?" i asked. "don't look for it, and then you're sure to find it when you least expect." but the axe was not found then, and it was soon forgotten, for we were too busy searching the sides of the wonderful gorge, going day after day for miles on one side exploring the nooks and crannies, and another day wading across the river to explore the other side. but though we discovered and shot numbers of the most beautiful birds, many of them quite new to both, we saw no sign of those we sought, and at last my uncle had decided that we must move a few miles higher, when a discovery was made which sent a thrill of hopefulness through us, and we began exploring and shooting more eagerly than ever, devoting each morning to the task and the evenings to skinning and preserving, till our selection of beautiful skins began to grow to an extent far greater than we had intended. meanwhile we had been living a gloriously free and happy life; expeditions had been made twice to the boat for more necessaries, which were supplemented by an abundant supply of birds and fishes, the upper waters being so full of the latter that it was an easy task of a morning for pete and me to catch enough for a meal. but we had a few unpleasant experiences. twice over we found that rattlesnakes had been attracted by the fire and had taken possession of quarters in our tent, for which, as they viciously showed fight, they were condemned to death and executed. one morning, too, on waking, i caught sight of peculiar marks on the loose dry sand, a smooth deep furrow having been made, to which i drew my uncle's attention. "we ought to hunt out the creature which made that, nat," said my uncle. "rather an unpleasant neighbour to have. why, the fellow that marked that trail must be a good eighteen feet long." it, too, suffered for its temerity, for it came again, and was seen by pete on awaking in the morning, when he cautiously drew my attention to the monster's presence near the fire. the next minute a couple of shots from my double gun rang out, and the huge serpent was writhing and twining among the bushes, and beating them flat by blows from its powerful tail. cross skinned it when it was dead, saying that he must have it for a curiosity if we did not, and probably it stretched a little in the process, for it proved to be a python, twenty feet in length and enormously thick. it was the very next day when we were about to move, the visit of the python and the possibility of one from its mate having decided our immediate change, after a final tramp round in search of the birds we wanted. but we had no more luck than usual. we could have shot plenty of specimens, but not those we sought, and we were nearing our camp when all at once what i took to be a pigeon dashed out of a tree, and meaning it for a roast, my gun flew to my shoulder, i fired hastily, and the bird fell. "uncle!" i cried, as i picked it out dead from among a clump of ferns. "a quetzal!" shouted my uncle excitedly, for it was a scarlet-breasted bird, with back and wing, coverts of a glorious golden-green. "but you said that they had tails three or four feet long." "yes," said my uncle; "the kind i want to find have, while this is only short; but here is proof that we are working in the right direction." "then we must stop here, uncle," i cried. "yes, nat, it would be madness to leave. we must wait till the right ones come." that bird's wonderfully oily and tender skin was carefully stripped off in the evening, and it had a drying box all to itself, one made expressly by cross, who confided to me that it was the finest bird he had ever seen. "some of they humming-birds is handsome enough," he said, "but there's nothing of 'em. this one's grand. now, if i could only find that there chopper as pete lost--" "didn't lose it," growled pete. "--i should be," continued the carpenter, severely, "a happy man. aren't you, sir?" "no," i said; "nor shall be till i shoot some with tails three feet long." the finding of this specimen completely, as i have said, changed our plans. "it would be folly to go away now, nat," repeated my uncle, "for at any moment we may find quite a flock." this was one afternoon, when we had returned after an unsuccessful hunt, to take out our treasure and gloat over its wonderful plumage. "yes," i said; "but it's very tiresome, all this failure. perhaps this is the only one for hundreds of miles." "nonsense!" cried my uncle. "i daresay, if the truth were known, we pass scores of them every day, sitting after the fashion of these trogons, perfectly still like a ball of feathers, watching us, and with their green plumage so like that of the leaves that we might go by hundreds of times and not see them." "oh!" i cried, "we could not pass one of them. the sun would make those beautiful golden-green wing coverts flash again." "in the sunshine, my boy, but they rest in the deep shade. we shall come upon them yet, and find out their habits. then all will be easy. anyone searching for birds of paradise in new guinea might go scores of times without success, and come away and say there are none. just as it is in australia: at one time of year flocks of the great white and sulphur cockatoos can be found; at another time you may search the same district for months and not see one." "yes, uncle," i said wearily, for i was tired after a long walk in the hot sun pestered by flies; "and i suppose there are plenty of birds about here that we have not seen. why, of course, we haven't seen pete's wonderful specimen yet." "no," said my uncle drily, "and i shall be very much surprised if we ever do." "do you think there is nothing of the kind, then?" i said. "i don't like to be positive, but i should say that he made that bird out of his own head." "oh, i don't think so, uncle," i replied; "pete's very honest and straightforward." "yes, but he lets his brain run riot, nat. he saw some bird, i do not doubt, but not clothed and ornamented as he says." "there are birds with brightly-coloured tails such as he said?" "are there?" said my uncle drily. "i think not. if there be i should like a specimen; it would be an exciting display for the learned bird-lovers in london to gaze at. don't you see, my boy, he furnished the specimen he saw with the tail plumage of three different varieties of the macaw--the green the blue, and the red. pete's eyes played tricks with him that time. i wish he would see the long floating feathers of a quetzal flashing its green and gold and purple in the sunshine." "so do i, uncle," i replied. "i wish we could find and shoot dozens of them, but i don't long for the task of skinning them; they are so delicate and likely to tear." "like all the birds related to the cuckoos," said my uncle; "but we were very successful over this. by the way, pete is getting very handy in that way. we must trust him with some of the commoner things, for it seems as if after all we shall have to fill up with the best of the less-known birds." "oh, no," i said, as i carefully smoothed down the loose silky plumage of our solitary specimen. "we're tired now. when we have had a good wash and our tea-dinner we shall feel different." i carefully put away the trogon, and crossed to where pete was busy getting the kettle to boil, and making other preparations for our evening meal. no light task, for his fire troubled him a good deal, and he began about it at once. "what i want, master nat," he said, "is some regular good stiff clay to make up into bricks. they'd bake hard. as for these stones i build up a fireplace and oven with, some go bang and fly off in splinters, and the other sort moulders all away into dust--regular lime, you know, that fizzles and cisses when it's cold and you pour water over it, and then comes hot again." "try some of those pieces out of the river bed." "i have, sir, and they're worst of all. i say, master nat, stop and see that the pot don't boil over. i want to go down and get some fresh, clean water." "don't be long, then," i cried. "i say, what's in the pot?" "dicky bird stoo!" said pete, grinning. "no touching while i'm gone." he caught up the bucket and started off down the cliff-side towards the river, while i idly watched him till he was out of sight, and sat back away from the glow of the fire, for i was hot enough without that. then i naturally began thinking about the splendid trogons, and whether there was any likely place near that we had not well hunted through. "lots," i said to myself. "they're here to-day and gone to-morrow. that's the way with birds, except when they have nests. they go about according to where they can find food. hullo! he can't have got to the water in this short time." for i had caught sight of pete hurrying back, and as soon as he saw me watching him climbing up from below he begun to make signs to me not to speak. "what has he found?" i said to myself, for he was creeping up nearly bent double and moving with the greatest caution. i rose to go down to him, but at the slightest movement he waved his hand to me to keep back; so i waited till he came up, panting, his face covered with the great drops of perspiration. "seen a big snake?" i said, laughing. "no," he whispered; "don't make a noise. i've seen the troghums." "what!" i cried excitedly. "don't," he whispered, "or you may frighten 'em again." "but do you mean to say you've seen some of the beautiful trogons?" "no," he panted, "not them; i've seen two or three of them other birds with the green and yellow and blue cocked-up tails, same as i saw before and you couldn't find." "where are they?" i cried eagerly, for it was evident that he had seen something new in the way of birds. "down below in the path we cut away to get to the water. they're behind the low bushes, three or four of 'em, and i could see their tails cocking up over the top. guns, quick, 'fore they're gone and you say i was dreaming again." i uttered a low chirruping signal which brought my uncle and cross to hear the news, and the next minute we had seized our guns. none too soon, for we were hardly ready before pete pointed triumphantly downward towards a clump of ferns some twenty yards away, where i distinctly saw something move. "now, aren't there no birds with tails like that?" he whispered, and i saw plainly in three places just such feathers as he had described rise into sight; but they were not the tails of birds, being the fantastic feather tiaras of indians, whose dark faces rose now full in our view. the next moment we saw that they were armed with bows, and i had hardly realised this when there was a twanging sound, the whizz of arrows, and i uttered a cry of pain. it was as if a red-hot iron had passed through my shoulder, and my cry was echoed by an indian yell. chapter twelve. attacked by indians. my pang of agony was accompanied by a feeling of rage against the cause of it, and in blind fury i fired both barrels of my gun in the direction of the indians, almost at the same moment as my uncle and the carpenter discharged theirs. the reports were followed by another yell, the crashing of bushes and ferns, and the sound as of men tearing away. "take care, cross," cried my uncle. "load again, and keep under cover. hah! there goes one of the treacherous hounds. gone, and i'm not loaded. now i am. not hurt, are you, nat?" "i'm afraid i am," i said, drawing in my breath with pain. "here, let's look," cried my uncle. "keep under cover, pete. i don't want anyone else to be hurt. you, cross, look out, and fire at the first sign. now, nat, what is it? tut, tut, tut! there, keep a good heart, my lad. it has gone clean through your shoulder." "poisoned, uncle?" i cried anxiously. "pooh! nonsense, boy! hold still. it will not be a long operation." i saw him take out his keen knife. "are you going to cut out the arrow head?" i said huskily. "there is no need; the indian did that for you. look here." i could not help shuddering, but i was firm, and watched him take hold of the slender arrow close to my shoulder, and with one stroke cut cleanly through it close to the wing-feathers. then, going behind me, he seized the other part and made me wince once more with pain, as with one quick, steady movement, he drew the missile right through. "hurt?" he said cheerfully. "horribly, uncle." "never mind that. it's only through flesh. no bone-touch, and there are only a couple of little holes to heal up. pan of water here, pete." "aren't none, sir. i was going to fetch a bucket when i see what i thought was birds." "tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated my uncle. "i must have some water to bathe the wounds." "all right, sir; i'll run down for some. bucket's down there." "no, no! the indians--they may attack you." "what!" cried pete in a whimpering voice; "touch me when i'm going for some water for master nat? they'd better! i'd smash 'em." before he could be stopped he was bounding down the precipitous place, and my uncle turned anxiously to cross. "see any sign of them?" he said. "yes, sir, twice over; but they were too quick for me to get a shot. they've waded the river down yonder, and i got a glimpse of two of 'em climbing up." "hah! then he may escape them. cross, one of us ought to follow and cover him." "right, sir. i'm off," cried the carpenter, and he hurried down our way to the river, just as we heard two sharp cracks from somewhere below. "make you feel sick, nat?" said my uncle. "no, i forgot it just then. i was thinking what a trump pete is. poor fellow! he has risked his life to get me that water." "yes," said my uncle through his teeth: "he's a brave fellow, and he likes you, nat." no more was said, and in a few minutes we heard the rustling of bushes and saw bill cross coming backwards with his gun at the ready, covering pete, who was panting up with his bucket of water. the next minute my smarting wounds were being bathed and the bleeding encouraged till it stopped naturally, when my uncle brought out his pocket-book, applied some lint from it, and bandaged the places firmly, afterwards turning a handkerchief into a sling. "there," he said, "you need not fidget about poison, my lad. the place will soon heal. now then, any sign of the enemy?" "no, sir," cried pete; "they cut away across the river, all but that chap that was hit." "was one hit?" said my uncle eagerly. "yes, sir; he's lying down yonder by the water, and he's got our chopper." "what?" "i come upon him lying bleeding, and as soon as he saw me he began to put an arrow on his bow-string; but i hit him on the nose, broke his bow in two, and chucked his arrows in the river. he must have come before, and sneaked our old axe." "then he's there now?" "yes, sir; he can't run. you winged him--i mean legged. but i've got our chopper again." "sit still, nat," said my uncle. "here, pete, carry my gun, and you, cross, come and cover me. i can't leave the poor wretch like that." i saw cross frown as he followed my uncle, and pete stopped for a moment behind with me. "i mustn't stop, master nat," he said. "i am sorry, sir, but don't you be a downhearted 'un. i shan't be long. i say: who was right about the axe?" i nodded my thanks to him, and then sat back, in acute pain, thinking about the sudden change in the state of our affairs, and of how necessary it would be for us to retreat into a safer part of the country. it was all so unexpected and so vexatious, just as in all probability we might be on the point of discovering the birds we sought. i was musing in a half-faint way, the pain and shock having made me feel very sick, when i heard the sounds of the returning party, and to my surprise they brought in the wounded indian on cross's back, the poor fellow being in a half-fainting condition from a frightful wound in the right thigh. as he was laid down on his back he began to come-to, and looked wildly round, while when he saw my uncle approach him knife in hand, he set his teeth and made a fierce attempt to rise. but cross was holding him from behind, and the poor fellow was helpless. he evidently believed that his enemy was about to put him to death, and on finding that he could not help himself he seemed ready to calmly accept his fate, for he fixed his eyes upon my uncle with a bitter, contemptuous smile, and then folded his arms and lay there like an image cast in bronze. it was not a fierce countenance, being smooth, large-eyed, and disposed to be effeminate and plump, while when my uncle busied himself over the terrible wound with the knife, and must have given the man excruciating pain, he did not even wince, but kept gazing hard at his surgeon who tortured him, as if proud and defiant to the last. his expression only began to change when he saw the knife laid aside and pete bring some water in the tin for my uncle to bathe the wound; and now it was full of wonder as the place was covered with lint from the pocket-book, and then carefully bandaged from the supply ready against accidents. "there, my fine fellow," said my uncle at last; "now if you keep quiet, you being a healthy fellow, young and strong, that bad wound will soon heal. if you had left us alone you would not have got it. you don't understand, of course; but you must lie still." the indian's countenance changed more than ever. he had fully grasped the fact that he was not to be slain, and also that his wound had been carefully dressed, and with his fierce aspect completely gone, he took hold of the hand with which my uncle was pressing him back to lie still, and held it against his forehead, smiling up at him the while; and then he sank back and closed his eyes. "it's a bad wound, nat, but he'll get over it. that must have been your shot." "why not yours?" i said. "i couldn't shoot with that arrow through me." "but you did, for it was done with the big swan pellets, and i had nothing but dust shot in my gun, for the little birds." "oh!" i cried wonderingly. "ah, that's why you made that poor fellow cry." as i lay and thought afterwards i was to my dissatisfaction convinced that mine had been the hand which fired the shot, and the knowledge of this somehow made me feel a kind of sympathy for the savage who lay there far more badly wounded than i, while the carpenter and my uncle, with pete's help, built up a kind of semi-circular hedge as a defence around us. "we can't begin our retreat with you in that condition, nat," my uncle said, "and i don't like to be driven away by a little party of ruffians like these." "i could walk," i said. "i know that," he replied curtly; "walk yourself into a state, of fever, and make your wound go bad. look at that fellow; nature teaches him what to do--lie still--curl up like an animal, till his injury heals. what are you thinking about?" "that poor fellow's wound." "poor fellow! possibly the savage who sent that arrow through your shoulder. you're a rum fellow, nat." "well, you were just as sympathetic, uncle," i said. "see how you dressed his wound, just as if he were a friend." "no, i did not, nat," he said, smiling. "i dressed him just as a surgeon should a wounded patient. by the way, he did not seem to bear any malice." "perhaps he will, uncle, when he knows i shot him." "don't tell him, then. we'll all share the blame." "so you mean to stop here, then?" i said. "yes, certainly, for the present. why, if we were to begin to pack up, i daresay the next thing we should see would be a flock of quetzals flying about." "but suppose a whole tribe of indians attack us?" "not likely, nat. these people are few and greatly scattered; but if we are attacked we shall have to give the poor wretches a scaring with a few charges of shot--i mean distant charges, scattered, not fired at close quarters like yours." the day passed slowly by, with my three companions working away to strengthen our little camp, and the wounded indian sleeping. i, too, dropped off for an hour during the great heat of the late afternoon, and awoke feeling feverish and strange. but pete was set to bathe my forehead with water, and the rapid evaporation made my head comparatively cool and pleasant, so much so that my uncle smiled. "you're going on all right, nat," he said, "and the wound will soon grow easier." the sun had passed over to the west, and was behind the cliff, leaving us well in shelter; the sound of the rushing water below sounded cool and pleasant, and i was lying back watching the wounded indian--carib, my uncle called him--when all at once there came a low howl from the thicket on the other side of the river. "what's that! one of the howling monkeys?" i said to uncle. "no," he said softly, and i saw him reach out his hand slowly for his gun. "watch my patient." i turned my eyes to where the man lay, and saw that he had raised his head, and was gazing keenly in the direction whence the cry had come. the next minute the howl was repeated, and it had hardly died out when it arose again, but this time from our prisoner, who placed his hands to his lips and sent forth a mournful cry. then it was answered from the other side, and the carib turned excitedly to us, talking rapidly, but without our being able to comprehend a word. one thing, though, was evident--the poor fellow was highly excited, and he smiled and chattered at us, before repeating the cry, which was again answered, and then a kind of duet was kept up, with the distance and time between the calls growing shorter minute by minute. "this is all very well," said cross softly, "but he's bringing on his injun mates. you'll tell us when to fire, sir?" "yes, if there is any need," said my uncle. "be ready; that is all." our prisoner watched us excitedly, and evidently grasped what was meant, for he began to talk to us eagerly, and then pointed downward again and again. he was in the midst of an eager explanation to us when there was a rustling in the bushes below, and a dusky figure came up, caught sight of us behind the barricade, and stopped short. but our prisoner uttered a call, and the dark, pleasant-faced figure came on fearlessly, found the opening we had left, and the next moment was down upon her knees wailing softly and passing her hands over the bandages, ending by laying her face against our prisoner's breast, and beginning to sob. "nothing to fear from her," said my uncle. "it's the poor fellow's wife." meanwhile the carib was evidently explaining his position to the woman, and she turned to us, smiling, evidently ready to be the best of friends, while her manners showed that she meant to stay and nurse her wounded husband, whom she had traced to where he lay. "better be friends than enemies, nat," said my uncle. "but one of us must keep watch to-night." chapter thirteen. success at last. watch was kept that night and several more, while the days were passed suspiciously and uneasily. but we saw no sign of more indians, those who shared our camp seeming quite at home, and proving to be gentle, inoffensive creatures, now that they were satisfied that we intended to do them no harm. the woman began at once to see to the fire, and fetch water from the river, and only once showed any sign of resentment. that was on the morning following her coming, when my uncle began to unfasten his patient's bandages after dressing my arm. this she tried to stop by seizing my uncle's hand, but at a word from her husband she sat down and watched the whole process. after that the morning performance of the surgical duties was looked for with the greatest interest, the woman fetching water and waiting upon my uncle during his attention to both his patients. the days passed on, with my wound troubling me but very little. the prisoner's was far worse, but he did not seem to suffer, settling down quite happily in a dreamy way, and as no danger came near, the shooting and collecting went on, my uncle going alone, and leaving pete and cross to protect me and the camp. fortunately we had a sufficiency of stores, my uncle shot for provisions as well as science; i helped by sitting down in one particular spot by the rushing stream and catching fish almost as fast as i could throw in, and mapah, as the woman's name seemed to be, went off every morning and returned loaded with wild fruit and certain roots, which she and her husband ate eagerly. some very good specimens were brought in by my uncle, and the two indians sat watching us curiously as we busily skinned them, filled them out, and laid them to dry, mapah eagerly taking possession of the tail-feathers of some parrots intended to be cooked for the evening's meal, and weaving them into a band of plaited grass so as to form tiaras of the bright-hued plumes for herself and her husband, both wearing them with no little show of pride. "and only to think of it, master nat," said pete. "reg'larly cheated me when i see 'em first over the bushes; i made sure they was birds." they expressed a good deal of pleasure, too, over some of the brighter birds brought in, and our prisoner talked and made signs to me and pointed in one direction as he tried hard to make me understand something one day; but i was alone with him, and very dense for a time, as in a crippled way i put the finishing touches to the skin of a brilliant kingfisher. then all at once i grasped his meaning. "why, of course!" i cried. "how thick-headed of me!" i went to the bamboo half-box, half-basket cross had made, and brought it back to where the indian was sitting nursing his wounded leg, took off the lid, and carefully withdrew the trogon. "is that the sort of bird you mean?" i said. "hah!" he said, in a long-drawn cry, full of the satisfaction he felt, and both he and his wife chattered to me eagerly, mapah shaking her head, though, and pointing at the bird's tail with one dusky hand, before holding both out before me a yard apart. "you've seen them with tails as long as that?" i said, placing my hand by the caudal feathers of our one specimen, and then slowly drawing it away till it was some distance off. "hah!" cried the indian again, and he laughed and chatted, and pointed across the river to the south, while his wife took off her feather crown, held it before me, and drew each long feather through her hand as if stretching it to three feet in length, and then touched the golden-green plumage of our solitary specimen. the trogon was carefully put away, the kingfisher laid to dry, and then i could hardly contain myself till my uncle's return, well laden with ducks and a dusky bird that was evidently a half-grown turkey. "tired out, nat," he said, throwing down the birds, for mapah and her husband to seize and begin to pluck for our evening meal. "we must make a fresh start." "why?" i said quietly. "because we have shot the only trogon in the district, and we are wasting time here." "nonsense," i said; "there are plenty more." "if we could find them," he replied wearily. i had intended to keep him waiting longer, but i could not hold back what i felt certain i had discovered, and hurrying to the case i brought out the precious specimen and made mapah and her husband go through the whole pantomime again. "why, nat," cried my uncle excitedly, while pete and cross looked on, "it's as plain as a pikestaff: these people are quite familiar with the long-tailed species--_resplendens_--and they could take us to places where they could be found." "that's it, uncle," i cried, and pete and cross joined in a hearty cheer. "oh, but to think of it--the misery and disappointment," cried my uncle: "that poor fellow will not be able to walk and act as guide for a month, and it may be a hundred miles away." "that don't matter, sir," cried pete; "he's only a little chap. me and bill cross'll take it in turns pig-a-backing him; won't we mate?" "we will that, pete, lad," cried the carpenter, and somehow that seemed to be the brightest evening of our expedition, even the two indians seeming to share our satisfaction, for they readily grasped the idea that they had afforded us pleasure by promising in their fashion to show us the objects of our weary search. as we lay down to sleep that night i felt more wakeful than ever i had been before, and i could hear my uncle turning restlessly about. all at once he broke the silence by whispering,-- "asleep, nat?" "asleep? no; i've got quetzal on the brain, and the birds seem to be pecking at my shoulder on both sides with red-hot beaks. how do you feel?" "in agony, my boy. i'm afraid we have been jumping at conclusions. perhaps the indians do not understand, after all." sleep came at last, though, and the next day nothing else could be thought of or talked of. the indians were questioned in dumb show, with the skin of the trogon for a text, and we got on more, uncle dick's spirits rising as it grew more plainly that the indian fully understood about the birds we wanted. in fact, in dumb show he at last began to teach us the bird's habits. he showed us how it sat upon the branch of a tree, taking a parroquet as an example, pointing out that the bird we meant had toes like it, two before and two behind, setting it on a piece of wood, and then ruffling its plumage all up till it looked like a ball of feathers. "that's right, nat," cried my uncle. "exactly how trogons sit. the fellow's a born observer. i am glad you shot him. go on, dusky." the man understood, as he sat holding the piece of branch in one hand, the bird in the other. he glanced at us to see if we were watching him, and then smoothing the feathers quickly, he began to buzz and whirr like a beetle, as cleverly as a ventriloquist. next he made the dead bird he held dart from its perch, and imitated the quick flight of one chasing a large beetle through the air, catching it, and returning to its perch, where with wonderful accuracy he went through the movements of it swallowing its prey, and then ruffling itself up again into a ball of feathers. "splendid!" cried my uncle. "exact. he knows the right birds, nat. now then, cuvier, where is the happy spot? over yonder?" and my uncle pointed up the river; but the indian shook his head, and pointed across and away to the south, after which he laid his head upon his hand and imitated going to sleep eight times. "eight days' journey to the south, nat," said uncle dick. "a long way to carry him. i understand," he said, turning to the indian again, shouldering his gun, bending down, and making believe to walk; but his patient shook his head violently, took hold of his piece of wood, and went through the motion of paddling. "hah!" i cried, imitating him. "he means we should have to go in a canoe, uncle." "that's it," he cried, and he pointed down at the river; but the man shook his head again, and pointed right across into the distance. "nat," said my uncle, "we shall do it yet. it must be on that river we passed before we turned up this. we shall have to get him down to the boat." i wish i could write--_no sooner said than done_; but it was not so; for our future guide was not yet fit to start on such a journey. he was getting better fast, but not fast enough, and in spite of my assertions, i was not recovered from a very bad wound. in short, it seemed that the only thing to do, as we appeared to have nothing more to fear from indians with two such guards in camp, was to send down to the boat for more of the stores, that is, enough for another fortnight's stay, when the difficulty was solved by cross one morning. "i've been turning it over in my mind, master nat, about carrying that chap down to the boat, but the doctor says it would open his wound again and throw him back, so that won't do." "no; certainly not," i said. "then i got a notion that i could knock up a sort of chair he could sit in, and me and pete and mrs mapah could carry it strapped on our backs in turn." "nonsense! that little woman could not carry her husband." "what, sir!" cried cross laughing. "don't you make a mistake, sir; she's as strong as a pony. but the doctor says it would shake him too much, so what do you say to this? s'pose i build a raft, and we go back the same as we come?" "through the dark cavern?" "i don't know no laws again' our burning a good light, sir." "but how are you going to get it down the falls?" "in bits, sir," he said, laughing. "i should build it down yonder on the side at the bottom of the falls. then we could swing old dusky down with the rope, and all we should want would be a couple of bamboo poles, and there we are." the notion seemed wild at first, but cross soon showed uncle dick and me that it was quite possible; and in the course of the next fortnight he proved it by means of his axe, making the raft out of the bamboos that he cut and which we sent down to him over the falls, some to be broken in the descent, but the most part to reach him safe and sound. as the work went on mapah helped, being wonderfully active and sure-footed on the rocks; and through her our prisoner grasped the meaning of what was going on, nodding and smiling when the time came for our start, and to my great satisfaction showing not the slightest shrinking from venturing into the cavern after being carefully lowered down. for at last all was ready, and with a good supply of resinous boughs cut into lengths for torches, we lit up and embarked upon our return journey, to find that what had looked so terrible through the darkness of ignorance was a perfectly trivial affair. it was through resounding cavern and winding tunnel, shrouded in gloom, but utterly wanting in terrors and difficulties, being merely the gliding down a subterranean stream out into broad daylight at the other end. here our raft served to carry us over the shallows right down to our boat, at which our prisoner gazed in wonder--wonder which was increased when we set sail and glided towards the mouth of the little river we had passed on our way up. it soon became evident that in his wanderings our indian had been over the ground before. this was proved by his manner towards his wife, to whom he talked eagerly, pointing out different objects, rocky cliff, forest and mountain, as if they were familiar objects. but the great proof of all was his behaviour a couple of days later, when we felt that the mouth of the southern river must be near, for he was all excitement till it was in sight, when he began shouting to us and pointing, indicating that we should steer the boat into the mouth of the very river as i suggested weeks before, and take a fresh course. "hah!" exclaimed my uncle; "you were right, nat, after all. i fancied he meant this." fortunately for us, the narrowness and the way in which the side stream was encumbered with overhanging growth, fallen log and tangle proved to be only at the very beginning; for at the end of a mile or two of difficulties which were very discouraging, while the stream narrowed so that it promised to close in overhead, its course became clearer and its waters deep and sluggish, so that we were able to camp at night some miles from the mouth. the next day our guide showed us by signs that our oars were not proper implements for use in such a river, with the result that cross set to work roughing out a paddle which our companions seized upon to finish off while another was made. boards from the bottom and thwarts were cut up for the purpose, and before many hours had passed we were furnished with half-a-dozen fairly useful paddles, by whose aid, and all working together, the boat could be directed through the narrowest channels of verdure. for the next six days we steadily advanced, through a wonderfully beautiful region, a very paradise for a naturalist, and where we might have collected gorgeously plumaged birds by the thousand and insects galore. but we had our one aim in view, and though we seemed as far off as ever, and there were moments when uncle dick and i began to doubt, our guide seemed so confident, pointing always onward, that we grew hopeful again, and went on and on. "do you know what bill cross says, master nat?" said pete, when we were camping one evening. "how should i?" i replied pettishly, for i was weary of the continuous paddling. "then, i'll tell you, sir," said pete solemnly, "he says he feels cock-sure that them two brown 'uns is taking us to where their tribe lives, so that they may grab the boat and guns and things, and then light a fire and have a feast." "eat us?" i said. "that's it, sir; the doctor says they must be caribs, and caribs is cannibals, and we ought to go back." "so we will, pete," i said, "when we have found the quetzals." it was the very next day that, after struggling a few more miles over shallows, the roar of water fell upon our ears, and the current gradually grew more swift, while that night with a good deal of pantomime our guide indicated that the boat could go no farther. "as if we didn't know that, master nat," said cross. the consequence was that our craft was securely moored, the tent once more set up on shore, and after a good night's rest we started off to explore the open wooded country around the beautiful falls close at hand. we left cross in camp with the indian, and his wife eagerly started with us as guide, leading us through lovely patches of forest and open glade till we were well above the falls, and where the little stream now glided slowly along. "it looks as if we're to find the quetzal at last," said my uncle softly; "the woman seems so confident." "i hope so," i said; "for if ever there was a beautiful home for a bird it ought to be here." we had hardly spoken before mapah, who was some distance ahead, stopped, held up her hand, and stole back, signing for us to take her place and go forward. we cocked our guns and stepped cautiously on, to find ourselves at the edge of an opening where no less than five of the lovely birds we sought were perched, each on a dead bough, with plumage absolutely glittering in the sun-rays, which shot through, just as the flashing scale of the humming-bird sends forth its gleams of broken light. every now and then one darted out into the full sunshine in chase of butterfly or beetle, its loose tail-feathers spreading out comet-like and waving in the clear air. the scene was so striking that for some time we stood bending forward watching the birds and their actions, every movement showing their glorious plumage in a fresh light, and but one feeling was upon us--that it was like sacrilege to destroy creatures so exquisitely perfect. at last, though, the naturalist and collector prevailed. we had come thousands of miles to secure specimens of these birds for english museums, and have them we must. i started as from a dream on seeing my uncle move. "going to fire, uncle?" i said. "yes, nat," he replied, with something like a sigh; "we must have a few to take back." he raised his gun, but lowered it again, and looked at me, while i looked at him. "was it all a dream?" he said hoarsely. "surely not, uncle," i cried, as i stared about the opening, where not a bird was to be seen. but we had proof directly that it was no dream, for pete, who was holding the spare guns, cried excitedly: "oh, i say! you've let 'em go!" in the days which followed we were less sentimental, getting, in the neighbourhood of where we had seen them first, specimen after specimen in the most perfect plumage, till we felt that it would be like a crime to shoot down more. "let's get away from the temptation, nat," said my uncle, and the very next day we started back, intent now on the one thought of getting our treasures safely home. we parted from our indian companions a fortnight later, sending them ashore with our guide's wound so nearly cured that he could limp about easily. they were laden with presents--uncle dick's patient proud of the grandest prize he evidently thought a man could possess, to wit, the carpenter's axe; and his wife rejoicing in a leather housewife of needles and thread, a pair of good useful scissors, and my old silver watch, hung by its chain round her tawny neck--her great joy being in a child-like way to hold it to her ear after winding up to listen to its ticking. bill cross made a set of new cases when he reached port royal for the careful packing of the skins in our glorious collection, and he and pete parted from us with every sign of regret. "i thought my tools might come in useful, gentlemen," he said, smiling. "i don't know what we should have done without you, cross," said my uncle. pete's forehead wrinkled up, and he looked at me wistfully. "i don't know which was the more useful, cross," i said, "you or pete." "wish you a safe journey home to the old country, gentlemen," said pete, smiling; "and, if ever you're going collecting again and'll take me, why, i'd come from anywheres the wide world round." but they did not say good-bye when the vessel in which we had taken our passage sailed, for the captain was short of hands and gladly took them on, so that it was at liverpool we finally parted, for we had what they wished us, a safe journey home. "you will take me if you go again, master nat?" cried pete, when we shook hands. "yes, pete," i said; "i promise you i will." the end. the autobiography of charles darwin from the life and letters of charles darwin by charles darwin edited by his son francis darwin [my father's autobiographical recollections, given in the present chapter, were written for his children,--and written without any thought that they would ever be published. to many this may seem an impossibility; but those who knew my father will understand how it was not only possible, but natural. the autobiography bears the heading, 'recollections of the development of my mind and character,' and end with the following note:--"aug. , . this sketch of my life was begun about may th at hopedene (mr. hensleigh wedgwood's house in surrey.), and since then i have written for nearly an hour on most afternoons." it will easily be understood that, in a narrative of a personal and intimate kind written for his wife and children, passages should occur which must here be omitted; and i have not thought it necessary to indicate where such omissions are made. it has been found necessary to make a few corrections of obvious verbal slips, but the number of such alterations has been kept down to the minimum.--f.d.] a german editor having written to me for an account of the development of my mind and character with some sketch of my autobiography, i have thought that the attempt would amuse me, and might possibly interest my children or their children. i know that it would have interested me greatly to have read even so short and dull a sketch of the mind of my grandfather, written by himself, and what he thought and did, and how he worked. i have attempted to write the following account of myself, as if i were a dead man in another world looking back at my own life. nor have i found this difficult, for life is nearly over with me. i have taken no pains about my style of writing. i was born at shrewsbury on february th, , and my earliest recollection goes back only to when i was a few months over four years old, when we went to near abergele for sea-bathing, and i recollect some events and places there with some little distinctness. my mother died in july , when i was a little over eight years old, and it is odd that i can remember hardly anything about her except her death-bed, her black velvet gown, and her curiously constructed work-table. in the spring of this same year i was sent to a day-school in shrewsbury, where i stayed a year. i have been told that i was much slower in learning than my younger sister catherine, and i believe that i was in many ways a naughty boy. by the time i went to this day-school (kept by rev. g. case, minister of the unitarian chapel in the high street. mrs. darwin was a unitarian and attended mr. case's chapel, and my father as a little boy went there with his elder sisters. but both he and his brother were christened and intended to belong to the church of england; and after his early boyhood he seems usually to have gone to church and not to mr. case's. it appears ("st. james' gazette", dec. , ) that a mural tablet has been erected to his memory in the chapel, which is now known as the 'free christian church.') my taste for natural history, and more especially for collecting, was well developed. i tried to make out the names of plants (rev. w.a. leighton, who was a schoolfellow of my father's at mr. case's school, remembers his bringing a flower to school and saying that his mother had taught him how by looking at the inside of the blossom the name of the plant could be discovered. mr. leighton goes on, "this greatly roused my attention and curiosity, and i enquired of him repeatedly how this could be done?"--but his lesson was naturally enough not transmissible.--f.d.), and collected all sorts of things, shells, seals, franks, coins, and minerals. the passion for collecting which leads a man to be a systematic naturalist, a virtuoso, or a miser, was very strong in me, and was clearly innate, as none of my sisters or brother ever had this taste. one little event during this year has fixed itself very firmly in my mind, and i hope that it has done so from my conscience having been afterwards sorely troubled by it; it is curious as showing that apparently i was interested at this early age in the variability of plants! i told another little boy (i believe it was leighton, who afterwards became a well-known lichenologist and botanist), that i could produce variously coloured polyanthuses and primroses by watering them with certain coloured fluids, which was of course a monstrous fable, and had never been tried by me. i may here also confess that as a little boy i was much given to inventing deliberate falsehoods, and this was always done for the sake of causing excitement. for instance, i once gathered much valuable fruit from my father's trees and hid it in the shrubbery, and then ran in breathless haste to spread the news that i had discovered a hoard of stolen fruit. i must have been a very simple little fellow when i first went to the school. a boy of the name of garnett took me into a cake shop one day, and bought some cakes for which he did not pay, as the shopman trusted him. when we came out i asked him why he did not pay for them, and he instantly answered, "why, do you not know that my uncle left a great sum of money to the town on condition that every tradesman should give whatever was wanted without payment to any one who wore his old hat and moved [it] in a particular manner?" and he then showed me how it was moved. he then went into another shop where he was trusted, and asked for some small article, moving his hat in the proper manner, and of course obtained it without payment. when we came out he said, "now if you like to go by yourself into that cake-shop (how well i remember its exact position) i will lend you my hat, and you can get whatever you like if you move the hat on your head properly." i gladly accepted the generous offer, and went in and asked for some cakes, moved the old hat and was walking out of the shop, when the shopman made a rush at me, so i dropped the cakes and ran for dear life, and was astonished by being greeted with shouts of laughter by my false friend garnett. i can say in my own favour that i was as a boy humane, but i owed this entirely to the instruction and example of my sisters. i doubt indeed whether humanity is a natural or innate quality. i was very fond of collecting eggs, but i never took more than a single egg out of a bird's nest, except on one single occasion, when i took all, not for their value, but from a sort of bravado. i had a strong taste for angling, and would sit for any number of hours on the bank of a river or pond watching the float; when at maer (the house of his uncle, josiah wedgwood.) i was told that i could kill the worms with salt and water, and from that day i never spitted a living worm, though at the expense probably of some loss of success. once as a very little boy whilst at the day school, or before that time, i acted cruelly, for i beat a puppy, i believe, simply from enjoying the sense of power; but the beating could not have been severe, for the puppy did not howl, of which i feel sure, as the spot was near the house. this act lay heavily on my conscience, as is shown by my remembering the exact spot where the crime was committed. it probably lay all the heavier from my love of dogs being then, and for a long time afterwards, a passion. dogs seemed to know this, for i was an adept in robbing their love from their masters. i remember clearly only one other incident during this year whilst at mr. case's daily school,--namely, the burial of a dragoon soldier; and it is surprising how clearly i can still see the horse with the man's empty boots and carbine suspended to the saddle, and the firing over the grave. this scene deeply stirred whatever poetic fancy there was in me. in the summer of i went to dr. butler's great school in shrewsbury, and remained there for seven years still midsummer , when i was sixteen years old. i boarded at this school, so that i had the great advantage of living the life of a true schoolboy; but as the distance was hardly more than a mile to my home, i very often ran there in the longer intervals between the callings over and before locking up at night. this, i think, was in many ways advantageous to me by keeping up home affections and interests. i remember in the early part of my school life that i often had to run very quickly to be in time, and from being a fleet runner was generally successful; but when in doubt i prayed earnestly to god to help me, and i well remember that i attributed my success to the prayers and not to my quick running, and marvelled how generally i was aided. i have heard my father and elder sister say that i had, as a very young boy, a strong taste for long solitary walks; but what i thought about i know not. i often became quite absorbed, and once, whilst returning to school on the summit of the old fortifications round shrewsbury, which had been converted into a public foot-path with no parapet on one side, i walked off and fell to the ground, but the height was only seven or eight feet. nevertheless the number of thoughts which passed through my mind during this very short, but sudden and wholly unexpected fall, was astonishing, and seem hardly compatible with what physiologists have, i believe, proved about each thought requiring quite an appreciable amount of time. nothing could have been worse for the development of my mind than dr. butler's school, as it was strictly classical, nothing else being taught, except a little ancient geography and history. the school as a means of education to me was simply a blank. during my whole life i have been singularly incapable of mastering any language. especial attention was paid to verse-making, and this i could never do well. i had many friends, and got together a good collection of old verses, which by patching together, sometimes aided by other boys, i could work into any subject. much attention was paid to learning by heart the lessons of the previous day; this i could effect with great facility, learning forty or fifty lines of virgil or homer, whilst i was in morning chapel; but this exercise was utterly useless, for every verse was forgotten in forty-eight hours. i was not idle, and with the exception of versification, generally worked conscientiously at my classics, not using cribs. the sole pleasure i ever received from such studies, was from some of the odes of horace, which i admired greatly. when i left the school i was for my age neither high nor low in it; and i believe that i was considered by all my masters and by my father as a very ordinary boy, rather below the common standard in intellect. to my deep mortification my father once said to me, "you care for nothing but shooting, dogs, and rat-catching, and you will be a disgrace to yourself and all your family." but my father, who was the kindest man i ever knew and whose memory i love with all my heart, must have been angry and somewhat unjust when he used such words. looking back as well as i can at my character during my school life, the only qualities which at this period promised well for the future, were, that i had strong and diversified tastes, much zeal for whatever interested me, and a keen pleasure in understanding any complex subject or thing. i was taught euclid by a private tutor, and i distinctly remember the intense satisfaction which the clear geometrical proofs gave me. i remember, with equal distinctness, the delight which my uncle gave me (the father of francis galton) by explaining the principle of the vernier of a barometer with respect to diversified tastes, independently of science, i was fond of reading various books, and i used to sit for hours reading the historical plays of shakespeare, generally in an old window in the thick walls of the school. i read also other poetry, such as thomson's 'seasons,' and the recently published poems of byron and scott. i mention this because later in life i wholly lost, to my great regret, all pleasure from poetry of any kind, including shakespeare. in connection with pleasure from poetry, i may add that in a vivid delight in scenery was first awakened in my mind, during a riding tour on the borders of wales, and this has lasted longer than any other aesthetic pleasure. early in my school days a boy had a copy of the 'wonders of the world,' which i often read, and disputed with other boys about the veracity of some of the statements; and i believe that this book first gave me a wish to travel in remote countries, which was ultimately fulfilled by the voyage of the "beagle". in the latter part of my school life i became passionately fond of shooting; i do not believe that any one could have shown more zeal for the most holy cause than i did for shooting birds. how well i remember killing my first snipe, and my excitement was so great that i had much difficulty in reloading my gun from the trembling of my hands. this taste long continued, and i became a very good shot. when at cambridge i used to practise throwing up my gun to my shoulder before a looking-glass to see that i threw it up straight. another and better plan was to get a friend to wave about a lighted candle, and then to fire at it with a cap on the nipple, and if the aim was accurate the little puff of air would blow out the candle. the explosion of the cap caused a sharp crack, and i was told that the tutor of the college remarked, "what an extraordinary thing it is, mr. darwin seems to spend hours in cracking a horse-whip in his room, for i often hear the crack when i pass under his windows." i had many friends amongst the schoolboys, whom i loved dearly, and i think that my disposition was then very affectionate. with respect to science, i continued collecting minerals with much zeal, but quite unscientifically--all that i cared about was a new-_named_ mineral, and i hardly attempted to classify them. i must have observed insects with some little care, for when ten years old ( ) i went for three weeks to plas edwards on the sea-coast in wales, i was very much interested and surprised at seeing a large black and scarlet hemipterous insect, many moths (zygaena), and a cicindela which are not found in shropshire. i almost made up my mind to begin collecting all the insects which i could find dead, for on consulting my sister i concluded that it was not right to kill insects for the sake of making a collection. from reading white's 'selborne,' i took much pleasure in watching the habits of birds, and even made notes on the subject. in my simplicity i remember wondering why every gentleman did not become an ornithologist. towards the close of my school life, my brother worked hard at chemistry, and made a fair laboratory with proper apparatus in the tool-house in the garden, and i was allowed to aid him as a servant in most of his experiments. he made all the gases and many compounds, and i read with great care several books on chemistry, such as henry and parkes' 'chemical catechism.' the subject interested me greatly, and we often used to go on working till rather late at night. this was the best part of my education at school, for it showed me practically the meaning of experimental science. the fact that we worked at chemistry somehow got known at school, and as it was an unprecedented fact, i was nicknamed "gas." i was also once publicly rebuked by the head-master, dr. butler, for thus wasting my time on such useless subjects; and he called me very unjustly a "poco curante," and as i did not understand what he meant, it seemed to me a fearful reproach. as i was doing no good at school, my father wisely took me away at a rather earlier age than usual, and sent me (oct. ) to edinburgh university with my brother, where i stayed for two years or sessions. my brother was completing his medical studies, though i do not believe he ever really intended to practise, and i was sent there to commence them. but soon after this period i became convinced from various small circumstances that my father would leave me property enough to subsist on with some comfort, though i never imagined that i should be so rich a man as i am; but my belief was sufficient to check any strenuous efforts to learn medicine. the instruction at edinburgh was altogether by lectures, and these were intolerably dull, with the exception of those on chemistry by hope; but to my mind there are no advantages and many disadvantages in lectures compared with reading. dr. duncan's lectures on materia medica at o'clock on a winter's morning are something fearful to remember. dr.---- made his lectures on human anatomy as dull as he was himself, and the subject disgusted me. it has proved one of the greatest evils in my life that i was not urged to practise dissection, for i should soon have got over my disgust; and the practice would have been invaluable for all my future work. this has been an irremediable evil, as well as my incapacity to draw. i also attended regularly the clinical wards in the hospital. some of the cases distressed me a good deal, and i still have vivid pictures before me of some of them; but i was not so foolish as to allow this to lessen my attendance. i cannot understand why this part of my medical course did not interest me in a greater degree; for during the summer before coming to edinburgh i began attending some of the poor people, chiefly children and women in shrewsbury: i wrote down as full an account as i could of the case with all the symptoms, and read them aloud to my father, who suggested further inquiries and advised me what medicines to give, which i made up myself. at one time i had at least a dozen patients, and i felt a keen interest in the work. my father, who was by far the best judge of character whom i ever knew, declared that i should make a successful physician,--meaning by this one who would get many patients. he maintained that the chief element of success was exciting confidence; but what he saw in me which convinced him that i should create confidence i know not. i also attended on two occasions the operating theatre in the hospital at edinburgh, and saw two very bad operations, one on a child, but i rushed away before they were completed. nor did i ever attend again, for hardly any inducement would have been strong enough to make me do so; this being long before the blessed days of chloroform. the two cases fairly haunted me for many a long year. my brother stayed only one year at the university, so that during the second year i was left to my own resources; and this was an advantage, for i became well acquainted with several young men fond of natural science. one of these was ainsworth, who afterwards published his travels in assyria; he was a wernerian geologist, and knew a little about many subjects. dr. coldstream was a very different young man, prim, formal, highly religious, and most kind-hearted; he afterwards published some good zoological articles. a third young man was hardie, who would, i think, have made a good botanist, but died early in india. lastly, dr. grant, my senior by several years, but how i became acquainted with him i cannot remember; he published some first-rate zoological papers, but after coming to london as professor in university college, he did nothing more in science, a fact which has always been inexplicable to me. i knew him well; he was dry and formal in manner, with much enthusiasm beneath this outer crust. he one day, when we were walking together, burst forth in high admiration of lamarck and his views on evolution. i listened in silent astonishment, and as far as i can judge without any effect on my mind. i had previously read the 'zoonomia' of my grandfather, in which similar views are maintained, but without producing any effect on me. nevertheless it is probable that the hearing rather early in life such views maintained and praised may have favoured my upholding them under a different form in my 'origin of species.' at this time i admired greatly the 'zoonomia;' but on reading it a second time after an interval of ten or fifteen years, i was much disappointed; the proportion of speculation being so large to the facts given. drs. grant and coldstream attended much to marine zoology, and i often accompanied the former to collect animals in the tidal pools, which i dissected as well as i could. i also became friends with some of the newhaven fishermen, and sometimes accompanied them when they trawled for oysters, and thus got many specimens. but from not having had any regular practice in dissection, and from possessing only a wretched microscope, my attempts were very poor. nevertheless i made one interesting little discovery, and read, about the beginning of the year , a short paper on the subject before the plinian society. this was that the so-called ova of flustra had the power of independent movement by means of cilia, and were in fact larvae. in another short paper i showed that the little globular bodies which had been supposed to be the young state of fucus loreus were the egg-cases of the wormlike pontobdella muricata. the plinian society was encouraged and, i believe, founded by professor jameson: it consisted of students and met in an underground room in the university for the sake of reading papers on natural science and discussing them. i used regularly to attend, and the meetings had a good effect on me in stimulating my zeal and giving me new congenial acquaintances. one evening a poor young man got up, and after stammering for a prodigious length of time, blushing crimson, he at last slowly got out the words, "mr. president, i have forgotten what i was going to say." the poor fellow looked quite overwhelmed, and all the members were so surprised that no one could think of a word to say to cover his confusion. the papers which were read to our little society were not printed, so that i had not the satisfaction of seeing my paper in print; but i believe dr. grant noticed my small discovery in his excellent memoir on flustra. i was also a member of the royal medical society, and attended pretty regularly; but as the subjects were exclusively medical, i did not much care about them. much rubbish was talked there, but there were some good speakers, of whom the best was the present sir j. kay-shuttleworth. dr. grant took me occasionally to the meetings of the wernerian society, where various papers on natural history were read, discussed, and afterwards published in the 'transactions.' i heard audubon deliver there some interesting discourses on the habits of n. american birds, sneering somewhat unjustly at waterton. by the way, a negro lived in edinburgh, who had travelled with waterton, and gained his livelihood by stuffing birds, which he did excellently: he gave me lessons for payment, and i used often to sit with him, for he was a very pleasant and intelligent man. mr. leonard horner also took me once to a meeting of the royal society of edinburgh, where i saw sir walter scott in the chair as president, and he apologised to the meeting as not feeling fitted for such a position. i looked at him and at the whole scene with some awe and reverence, and i think it was owing to this visit during my youth, and to my having attended the royal medical society, that i felt the honour of being elected a few years ago an honorary member of both these societies, more than any other similar honour. if i had been told at that time that i should one day have been thus honoured, i declare that i should have thought it as ridiculous and improbable, as if i had been told that i should be elected king of england. during my second year at edinburgh i attended ----'s lectures on geology and zoology, but they were incredibly dull. the sole effect they produced on me was the determination never as long as i lived to read a book on geology, or in any way to study the science. yet i feel sure that i was prepared for a philosophical treatment of the subject; for an old mr. cotton in shropshire, who knew a good deal about rocks, had pointed out to me two or three years previously a well-known large erratic boulder in the town of shrewsbury, called the "bell-stone"; he told me that there was no rock of the same kind nearer than cumberland or scotland, and he solemnly assured me that the world would come to an end before any one would be able to explain how this stone came where it now lay. this produced a deep impression on me, and i meditated over this wonderful stone. so that i felt the keenest delight when i first read of the action of icebergs in transporting boulders, and i gloried in the progress of geology. equally striking is the fact that i, though now only sixty-seven years old, heard the professor, in a field lecture at salisbury craigs, discoursing on a trapdyke, with amygdaloidal margins and the strata indurated on each side, with volcanic rocks all around us, say that it was a fissure filled with sediment from above, adding with a sneer that there were men who maintained that it had been injected from beneath in a molten condition. when i think of this lecture, i do not wonder that i determined never to attend to geology. from attending ----'s lectures, i became acquainted with the curator of the museum, mr. macgillivray, who afterwards published a large and excellent book on the birds of scotland. i had much interesting natural-history talk with him, and he was very kind to me. he gave me some rare shells, for i at that time collected marine mollusca, but with no great zeal. my summer vacations during these two years were wholly given up to amusements, though i always had some book in hand, which i read with interest. during the summer of i took a long walking tour with two friends with knapsacks on our backs through north wales. we walked thirty miles most days, including one day the ascent of snowdon. i also went with my sister a riding tour in north wales, a servant with saddle-bags carrying our clothes. the autumns were devoted to shooting chiefly at mr. owen's, at woodhouse, and at my uncle jos's (josiah wedgwood, the son of the founder of the etruria works.) at maer. my zeal was so great that i used to place my shooting-boots open by my bed-side when i went to bed, so as not to lose half a minute in putting them on in the morning; and on one occasion i reached a distant part of the maer estate, on the th of august for black-game shooting, before i could see: i then toiled on with the game-keeper the whole day through thick heath and young scotch firs. i kept an exact record of every bird which i shot throughout the whole season. one day when shooting at woodhouse with captain owen, the eldest son, and major hill, his cousin, afterwards lord berwick, both of whom i liked very much, i thought myself shamefully used, for every time after i had fired and thought that i had killed a bird, one of the two acted as if loading his gun, and cried out, "you must not count that bird, for i fired at the same time," and the gamekeeper, perceiving the joke, backed them up. after some hours they told me the joke, but it was no joke to me, for i had shot a large number of birds, but did not know how many, and could not add them to my list, which i used to do by making a knot in a piece of string tied to a button-hole. this my wicked friends had perceived. how i did enjoy shooting! but i think that i must have been half-consciously ashamed of my zeal, for i tried to persuade myself that shooting was almost an intellectual employment; it required so much skill to judge where to find most game and to hunt the dogs well. one of my autumnal visits to maer in was memorable from meeting there sir j. mackintosh, who was the best converser i ever listened to. i heard afterwards with a glow of pride that he had said, "there is something in that young man that interests me." this must have been chiefly due to his perceiving that i listened with much interest to everything which he said, for i was as ignorant as a pig about his subjects of history, politics, and moral philosophy. to hear of praise from an eminent person, though no doubt apt or certain to excite vanity, is, i think, good for a young man, as it helps to keep him in the right course. my visits to maer during these two or three succeeding years were quite delightful, independently of the autumnal shooting. life there was perfectly free; the country was very pleasant for walking or riding; and in the evening there was much very agreeable conversation, not so personal as it generally is in large family parties, together with music. in the summer the whole family used often to sit on the steps of the old portico, with the flower-garden in front, and with the steep wooded bank opposite the house reflected in the lake, with here and there a fish rising or a water-bird paddling about. nothing has left a more vivid picture on my mind than these evenings at maer. i was also attached to and greatly revered my uncle jos; he was silent and reserved, so as to be a rather awful man; but he sometimes talked openly with me. he was the very type of an upright man, with the clearest judgment. i do not believe that any power on earth could have made him swerve an inch from what he considered the right course. i used to apply to him in my mind the well-known ode of horace, now forgotten by me, in which the words "nec vultus tyranni, etc.," come in. (justum et tenacem propositi virum non civium ardor prava jubentium non vultus instantis tyranni mente quatit solida.) cambridge - . after having spent two sessions in edinburgh, my father perceived, or he heard from my sisters, that i did not like the thought of being a physician, so he proposed that i should become a clergyman. he was very properly vehement against my turning into an idle sporting man, which then seemed my probable destination. i asked for some time to consider, as from what little i had heard or thought on the subject i had scruples about declaring my belief in all the dogmas of the church of england; though otherwise i liked the thought of being a country clergyman. accordingly i read with care 'pearson on the creed,' and a few other books on divinity; and as i did not then in the least doubt the strict and literal truth of every word in the bible, i soon persuaded myself that our creed must be fully accepted. considering how fiercely i have been attacked by the orthodox, it seems ludicrous that i once intended to be a clergyman. nor was this intention and my father's wish ever formerly given up, but died a natural death when, on leaving cambridge, i joined the "beagle" as naturalist. if the phrenologists are to be trusted, i was well fitted in one respect to be a clergyman. a few years ago the secretaries of a german psychological society asked me earnestly by letter for a photograph of myself; and some time afterwards i received the proceedings of one of the meetings, in which it seemed that the shape of my head had been the subject of a public discussion, and one of the speakers declared that i had the bump of reverence developed enough for ten priests. as it was decided that i should be a clergyman, it was necessary that i should go to one of the english universities and take a degree; but as i had never opened a classical book since leaving school, i found to my dismay, that in the two intervening years i had actually forgotten, incredible as it may appear, almost everything which i had learnt, even to some few of the greek letters. i did not therefore proceed to cambridge at the usual time in october, but worked with a private tutor in shrewsbury, and went to cambridge after the christmas vacation, early in . i soon recovered my school standard of knowledge, and could translate easy greek books, such as homer and the greek testament, with moderate facility. during the three years which i spent at cambridge my time was wasted, as far as the academical studies were concerned, as completely as at edinburgh and at school. i attempted mathematics, and even went during the summer of with a private tutor (a very dull man) to barmouth, but i got on very slowly. the work was repugnant to me, chiefly from my not being able to see any meaning in the early steps in algebra. this impatience was very foolish, and in after years i have deeply regretted that i did not proceed far enough at least to understand something of the great leading principles of mathematics, for men thus endowed seem to have an extra sense. but i do not believe that i should ever have succeeded beyond a very low grade. with respect to classics i did nothing except attend a few compulsory college lectures, and the attendance was almost nominal. in my second year i had to work for a month or two to pass the little-go, which i did easily. again, in my last year i worked with some earnestness for my final degree of b.a., and brushed up my classics, together with a little algebra and euclid, which latter gave me much pleasure, as it did at school. in order to pass the b.a. examination, it was also necessary to get up paley's 'evidences of christianity,' and his 'moral philosophy.' this was done in a thorough manner, and i am convinced that i could have written out the whole of the 'evidences' with perfect correctness, but not of course in the clear language of paley. the logic of this book and, as i may add, of his 'natural theology,' gave me as much delight as did euclid. the careful study of these works, without attempting to learn any part by rote, was the only part of the academical course which, as i then felt and as i still believe, was of the least use to me in the education of my mind. i did not at that time trouble myself about paley's premises; and taking these on trust, i was charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation. by answering well the examination questions in paley, by doing euclid well, and by not failing miserably in classics, i gained a good place among the oi polloi or crowd of men who do not go in for honours. oddly enough, i cannot remember how high i stood, and my memory fluctuates between the fifth, tenth, or twelfth, name on the list. (tenth in the list of january .) public lectures on several branches were given in the university, attendance being quite voluntary; but i was so sickened with lectures at edinburgh that i did not even attend sedgwick's eloquent and interesting lectures. had i done so i should probably have become a geologist earlier than i did. i attended, however, henslow's lectures on botany, and liked them much for their extreme clearness, and the admirable illustrations; but i did not study botany. henslow used to take his pupils, including several of the older members of the university, field excursions, on foot or in coaches, to distant places, or in a barge down the river, and lectured on the rarer plants and animals which were observed. these excursions were delightful. although, as we shall presently see, there were some redeeming features in my life at cambridge, my time was sadly wasted there, and worse than wasted. from my passion for shooting and for hunting, and, when this failed, for riding across country, i got into a sporting set, including some dissipated low-minded young men. we used often to dine together in the evening, though these dinners often included men of a higher stamp, and we sometimes drank too much, with jolly singing and playing at cards afterwards. i know that i ought to feel ashamed of days and evenings thus spent, but as some of my friends were very pleasant, and we were all in the highest spirits, i cannot help looking back to these times with much pleasure. but i am glad to think that i had many other friends of a widely different nature. i was very intimate with whitley (rev. c. whitley, hon. canon of durham, formerly reader in natural philosophy in durham university.), who was afterwards senior wrangler, and we used continually to take long walks together. he inoculated me with a taste for pictures and good engravings, of which i bought some. i frequently went to the fitzwilliam gallery, and my taste must have been fairly good, for i certainly admired the best pictures, which i discussed with the old curator. i read also with much interest sir joshua reynolds' book. this taste, though not natural to me, lasted for several years, and many of the pictures in the national gallery in london gave me much pleasure; that of sebastian del piombo exciting in me a sense of sublimity. i also got into a musical set, i believe by means of my warm-hearted friend, herbert (the late john maurice herbert, county court judge of cardiff and the monmouth circuit.), who took a high wrangler's degree. from associating with these men, and hearing them play, i acquired a strong taste for music, and used very often to time my walks so as to hear on week days the anthem in king's college chapel. this gave me intense pleasure, so that my backbone would sometimes shiver. i am sure that there was no affectation or mere imitation in this taste, for i used generally to go by myself to king's college, and i sometimes hired the chorister boys to sing in my rooms. nevertheless i am so utterly destitute of an ear, that i cannot perceive a discord, or keep time and hum a tune correctly; and it is a mystery how i could possibly have derived pleasure from music. my musical friends soon perceived my state, and sometimes amused themselves by making me pass an examination, which consisted in ascertaining how many tunes i could recognise when they were played rather more quickly or slowly than usual. 'god save the king,' when thus played, was a sore puzzle. there was another man with almost as bad an ear as i had, and strange to say he played a little on the flute. once i had the triumph of beating him in one of our musical examinations. but no pursuit at cambridge was followed with nearly so much eagerness or gave me so much pleasure as collecting beetles. it was the mere passion for collecting, for i did not dissect them, and rarely compared their external characters with published descriptions, but got them named anyhow. i will give a proof of my zeal: one day, on tearing off some old bark, i saw two rare beetles, and seized one in each hand; then i saw a third and new kind, which i could not bear to lose, so that i popped the one which i held in my right hand into my mouth. alas! it ejected some intensely acrid fluid, which burnt my tongue so that i was forced to spit the beetle out, which was lost, as was the third one. i was very successful in collecting, and invented two new methods; i employed a labourer to scrape during the winter, moss off old trees and place it in a large bag, and likewise to collect the rubbish at the bottom of the barges in which reeds are brought from the fens, and thus i got some very rare species. no poet ever felt more delighted at seeing his first poem published than i did at seeing, in stephens' 'illustrations of british insects,' the magic words, "captured by c. darwin, esq." i was introduced to entomology by my second cousin w. darwin fox, a clever and most pleasant man, who was then at christ's college, and with whom i became extremely intimate. afterwards i became well acquainted, and went out collecting, with albert way of trinity, who in after years became a well-known archaeologist; also with h. thompson of the same college, afterwards a leading agriculturist, chairman of a great railway, and member of parliament. it seems therefore that a taste for collecting beetles is some indication of future success in life! i am surprised what an indelible impression many of the beetles which i caught at cambridge have left on my mind. i can remember the exact appearance of certain posts, old trees and banks where i made a good capture. the pretty panagaeus crux-major was a treasure in those days, and here at down i saw a beetle running across a walk, and on picking it up instantly perceived that it differed slightly from p. crux-major, and it turned out to be p. quadripunctatus, which is only a variety or closely allied species, differing from it very slightly in outline. i had never seen in those old days licinus alive, which to an uneducated eye hardly differs from many of the black carabidous beetles; but my sons found here a specimen, and i instantly recognised that it was new to me; yet i had not looked at a british beetle for the last twenty years. i have not as yet mentioned a circumstance which influenced my whole career more than any other. this was my friendship with professor henslow. before coming up to cambridge, i had heard of him from my brother as a man who knew every branch of science, and i was accordingly prepared to reverence him. he kept open house once every week when all undergraduates, and some older members of the university, who were attached to science, used to meet in the evening. i soon got, through fox, an invitation, and went there regularly. before long i became well acquainted with henslow, and during the latter half of my time at cambridge took long walks with him on most days; so that i was called by some of the dons "the man who walks with henslow;" and in the evening i was very often asked to join his family dinner. his knowledge was great in botany, entomology, chemistry, mineralogy, and geology. his strongest taste was to draw conclusions from long-continued minute observations. his judgment was excellent, and his whole mind well balanced; but i do not suppose that any one would say that he possessed much original genius. he was deeply religious, and so orthodox that he told me one day he should be grieved if a single word of the thirty-nine articles were altered. his moral qualities were in every way admirable. he was free from every tinge of vanity or other petty feeling; and i never saw a man who thought so little about himself or his own concerns. his temper was imperturbably good, with the most winning and courteous manners; yet, as i have seen, he could be roused by any bad action to the warmest indignation and prompt action. i once saw in his company in the streets of cambridge almost as horrid a scene as could have been witnessed during the french revolution. two body-snatchers had been arrested, and whilst being taken to prison had been torn from the constable by a crowd of the roughest men, who dragged them by their legs along the muddy and stony road. they were covered from head to foot with mud, and their faces were bleeding either from having been kicked or from the stones; they looked like corpses, but the crowd was so dense that i got only a few momentary glimpses of the wretched creatures. never in my life have i seen such wrath painted on a man's face as was shown by henslow at this horrid scene. he tried repeatedly to penetrate the mob; but it was simply impossible. he then rushed away to the mayor, telling me not to follow him, but to get more policemen. i forget the issue, except that the two men were got into the prison without being killed. henslow's benevolence was unbounded, as he proved by his many excellent schemes for his poor parishioners, when in after years he held the living of hitcham. my intimacy with such a man ought to have been, and i hope was, an inestimable benefit. i cannot resist mentioning a trifling incident, which showed his kind consideration. whilst examining some pollen-grains on a damp surface, i saw the tubes exserted, and instantly rushed off to communicate my surprising discovery to him. now i do not suppose any other professor of botany could have helped laughing at my coming in such a hurry to make such a communication. but he agreed how interesting the phenomenon was, and explained its meaning, but made me clearly understand how well it was known; so i left him not in the least mortified, but well pleased at having discovered for myself so remarkable a fact, but determined not to be in such a hurry again to communicate my discoveries. dr. whewell was one of the older and distinguished men who sometimes visited henslow, and on several occasions i walked home with him at night. next to sir j. mackintosh he was the best converser on grave subjects to whom i ever listened. leonard jenyns (the well-known soame jenyns was cousin to mr. jenyns' father.), who afterwards published some good essays in natural history (mr. jenyns (now blomefield) described the fish for the zoology of the "beagle"; and is author of a long series of papers, chiefly zoological.), often stayed with henslow, who was his brother-in-law. i visited him at his parsonage on the borders of the fens [swaffham bulbeck], and had many a good walk and talk with him about natural history. i became also acquainted with several other men older than me, who did not care much about science, but were friends of henslow. one was a scotchman, brother of sir alexander ramsay, and tutor of jesus college: he was a delightful man, but did not live for many years. another was mr. dawes, afterwards dean of hereford, and famous for his success in the education of the poor. these men and others of the same standing, together with henslow, used sometimes to take distant excursions into the country, which i was allowed to join, and they were most agreeable. looking back, i infer that there must have been something in me a little superior to the common run of youths, otherwise the above-mentioned men, so much older than me and higher in academical position, would never have allowed me to associate with them. certainly i was not aware of any such superiority, and i remember one of my sporting friends, turner, who saw me at work with my beetles, saying that i should some day be a fellow of the royal society, and the notion seemed to me preposterous. during my last year at cambridge, i read with care and profound interest humboldt's 'personal narrative.' this work, and sir j. herschel's 'introduction to the study of natural philosophy,' stirred up in me a burning zeal to add even the most humble contribution to the noble structure of natural science. no one or a dozen other books influenced me nearly so much as these two. i copied out from humboldt long passages about teneriffe, and read them aloud on one of the above-mentioned excursions, to (i think) henslow, ramsay, and dawes, for on a previous occasion i had talked about the glories of teneriffe, and some of the party declared they would endeavour to go there; but i think that they were only half in earnest. i was, however, quite in earnest, and got an introduction to a merchant in london to enquire about ships; but the scheme was, of course, knocked on the head by the voyage of the "beagle". my summer vacations were given up to collecting beetles, to some reading, and short tours. in the autumn my whole time was devoted to shooting, chiefly at woodhouse and maer, and sometimes with young eyton of eyton. upon the whole the three years which i spent at cambridge were the most joyful in my happy life; for i was then in excellent health, and almost always in high spirits. as i had at first come up to cambridge at christmas, i was forced to keep two terms after passing my final examination, at the commencement of ; and henslow then persuaded me to begin the study of geology. therefore on my return to shropshire i examined sections, and coloured a map of parts round shrewsbury. professor sedgwick intended to visit north wales in the beginning of august to pursue his famous geological investigations amongst the older rocks, and henslow asked him to allow me to accompany him. (in connection with this tour my father used to tell a story about sedgwick: they had started from their inn one morning, and had walked a mile or two, when sedgwick suddenly stopped, and vowed that he would return, being certain "that damned scoundrel" (the waiter) had not given the chambermaid the sixpence intrusted to him for the purpose. he was ultimately persuaded to give up the project, seeing that there was no reason for suspecting the waiter of especial perfidy.--f.d.) accordingly he came and slept at my father's house. a short conversation with him during this evening produced a strong impression on my mind. whilst examining an old gravel-pit near shrewsbury, a labourer told me that he had found in it a large worn tropical volute shell, such as may be seen on the chimney-pieces of cottages; and as he would not sell the shell, i was convinced that he had really found it in the pit. i told sedgwick of the fact, and he at once said (no doubt truly) that it must have been thrown away by some one into the pit; but then added, if really embedded there it would be the greatest misfortune to geology, as it would overthrow all that we know about the superficial deposits of the midland counties. these gravel-beds belong in fact to the glacial period, and in after years i found in them broken arctic shells. but i was then utterly astonished at sedgwick not being delighted at so wonderful a fact as a tropical shell being found near the surface in the middle of england. nothing before had ever made me thoroughly realise, though i had read various scientific books, that science consists in grouping facts so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them. next morning we started for llangollen, conway, bangor, and capel curig. this tour was of decided use in teaching me a little how to make out the geology of a country. sedgwick often sent me on a line parallel to his, telling me to bring back specimens of the rocks and to mark the stratification on a map. i have little doubt that he did this for my good, as i was too ignorant to have aided him. on this tour i had a striking instance of how easy it is to overlook phenomena, however conspicuous, before they have been observed by any one. we spent many hours in cwm idwal, examining all the rocks with extreme care, as sedgwick was anxious to find fossils in them; but neither of us saw a trace of the wonderful glacial phenomena all around us; we did not notice the plainly scored rocks, the perched boulders, the lateral and terminal moraines. yet these phenomena are so conspicuous that, as i declared in a paper published many years afterwards in the 'philosophical magazine' ('philosophical magazine,' .), a house burnt down by fire did not tell its story more plainly than did this valley. if it had still been filled by a glacier, the phenomena would have been less distinct than they now are. at capel curig i left sedgwick and went in a straight line by compass and map across the mountains to barmouth, never following any track unless it coincided with my course. i thus came on some strange wild places, and enjoyed much this manner of travelling. i visited barmouth to see some cambridge friends who were reading there, and thence returned to shrewsbury and to maer for shooting; for at that time i should have thought myself mad to give up the first days of partridge-shooting for geology or any other science. "voyage of the 'beagle' from december , , to october , ." on returning home from my short geological tour in north wales, i found a letter from henslow, informing me that captain fitz-roy was willing to give up part of his own cabin to any young man who would volunteer to go with him without pay as naturalist to the voyage of the "beagle". i have given, as i believe, in my ms. journal an account of all the circumstances which then occurred; i will here only say that i was instantly eager to accept the offer, but my father strongly objected, adding the words, fortunate for me, "if you can find any man of common sense who advises you to go i will give my consent." so i wrote that evening and refused the offer. on the next morning i went to maer to be ready for september st, and, whilst out shooting, my uncle (josiah wedgwood.) sent for me, offering to drive me over to shrewsbury and talk with my father, as my uncle thought it would be wise in me to accept the offer. my father always maintained that he was one of the most sensible men in the world, and he at once consented in the kindest manner. i had been rather extravagant at cambridge, and to console my father, said, "that i should be deuced clever to spend more than my allowance whilst on board the 'beagle';" but he answered with a smile, "but they tell me you are very clever." next day i started for cambridge to see henslow, and thence to london to see fitz-roy, and all was soon arranged. afterwards, on becoming very intimate with fitz-roy, i heard that i had run a very narrow risk of being rejected, on account of the shape of my nose! he was an ardent disciple of lavater, and was convinced that he could judge of a man's character by the outline of his features; and he doubted whether any one with my nose could possess sufficient energy and determination for the voyage. but i think he was afterwards well satisfied that my nose had spoken falsely. fitz-roy's character was a singular one, with very many noble features: he was devoted to his duty, generous to a fault, bold, determined, and indomitably energetic, and an ardent friend to all under his sway. he would undertake any sort of trouble to assist those whom he thought deserved assistance. he was a handsome man, strikingly like a gentleman, with highly courteous manners, which resembled those of his maternal uncle, the famous lord castlereagh, as i was told by the minister at rio. nevertheless he must have inherited much in his appearance from charles ii., for dr. wallich gave me a collection of photographs which he had made, and i was struck with the resemblance of one to fitz-roy; and on looking at the name, i found it ch. e. sobieski stuart, count d'albanie, a descendant of the same monarch. fitz-roy's temper was a most unfortunate one. it was usually worst in the early morning, and with his eagle eye he could generally detect something amiss about the ship, and was then unsparing in his blame. he was very kind to me, but was a man very difficult to live with on the intimate terms which necessarily followed from our messing by ourselves in the same cabin. we had several quarrels; for instance, early in the voyage at bahia, in brazil, he defended and praised slavery, which i abominated, and told me that he had just visited a great slave-owner, who had called up many of his slaves and asked them whether they were happy, and whether they wished to be free, and all answered "no." i then asked him, perhaps with a sneer, whether he thought that the answer of slaves in the presence of their master was worth anything? this made him excessively angry, and he said that as i doubted his word we could not live any longer together. i thought that i should have been compelled to leave the ship; but as soon as the news spread, which it did quickly, as the captain sent for the first lieutenant to assuage his anger by abusing me, i was deeply gratified by receiving an invitation from all the gun-room officers to mess with them. but after a few hours fitz-roy showed his usual magnanimity by sending an officer to me with an apology and a request that i would continue to live with him. his character was in several respects one of the most noble which i have ever known. the voyage of the "beagle" has been by far the most important event in my life, and has determined my whole career; yet it depended on so small a circumstance as my uncle offering to drive me thirty miles to shrewsbury, which few uncles would have done, and on such a trifle as the shape of my nose. i have always felt that i owe to the voyage the first real training or education of my mind; i was led to attend closely to several branches of natural history, and thus my powers of observation were improved, though they were always fairly developed. the investigation of the geology of all the places visited was far more important, as reasoning here comes into play. on first examining a new district nothing can appear more hopeless than the chaos of rocks; but by recording the stratification and nature of the rocks and fossils at many points, always reasoning and predicting what will be found elsewhere, light soon begins to dawn on the district, and the structure of the whole becomes more or less intelligible. i had brought with me the first volume of lyell's 'principles of geology,' which i studied attentively; and the book was of the highest service to me in many ways. the very first place which i examined, namely st. jago in the cape de verde islands, showed me clearly the wonderful superiority of lyell's manner of treating geology, compared with that of any other author, whose works i had with me or ever afterwards read. another of my occupations was collecting animals of all classes, briefly describing and roughly dissecting many of the marine ones; but from not being able to draw, and from not having sufficient anatomical knowledge, a great pile of ms. which i made during the voyage has proved almost useless. i thus lost much time, with the exception of that spent in acquiring some knowledge of the crustaceans, as this was of service when in after years i undertook a monograph of the cirripedia. during some part of the day i wrote my journal, and took much pains in describing carefully and vividly all that i had seen; and this was good practice. my journal served also, in part, as letters to my home, and portions were sent to england whenever there was an opportunity. the above various special studies were, however, of no importance compared with the habit of energetic industry and of concentrated attention to whatever i was engaged in, which i then acquired. everything about which i thought or read was made to bear directly on what i had seen or was likely to see; and this habit of mind was continued during the five years of the voyage. i feel sure that it was this training which has enabled me to do whatever i have done in science. looking backwards, i can now perceive how my love for science gradually preponderated over every other taste. during the first two years my old passion for shooting survived in nearly full force, and i shot myself all the birds and animals for my collection; but gradually i gave up my gun more and more, and finally altogether, to my servant, as shooting interfered with my work, more especially with making out the geological structure of a country. i discovered, though unconsciously and insensibly, that the pleasure of observing and reasoning was a much higher one than that of skill and sport. that my mind became developed through my pursuits during the voyage is rendered probable by a remark made by my father, who was the most acute observer whom i ever saw, of a sceptical disposition, and far from being a believer in phrenology; for on first seeing me after the voyage, he turned round to my sisters, and exclaimed, "why, the shape of his head is quite altered." to return to the voyage. on september th ( ), i paid a flying visit with fitz-roy to the "beagle" at plymouth. thence to shrewsbury to wish my father and sisters a long farewell. on october th i took up my residence at plymouth, and remained there until december th, when the "beagle" finally left the shores of england for her circumnavigation of the world. we made two earlier attempts to sail, but were driven back each time by heavy gales. these two months at plymouth were the most miserable which i ever spent, though i exerted myself in various ways. i was out of spirits at the thought of leaving all my family and friends for so long a time, and the weather seemed to me inexpressibly gloomy. i was also troubled with palpitation and pain about the heart, and like many a young ignorant man, especially one with a smattering of medical knowledge, was convinced that i had heart disease. i did not consult any doctor, as i fully expected to hear the verdict that i was not fit for the voyage, and i was resolved to go at all hazards. i need not here refer to the events of the voyage--where we went and what we did--as i have given a sufficiently full account in my published journal. the glories of the vegetation of the tropics rise before my mind at the present time more vividly than anything else; though the sense of sublimity, which the great deserts of patagonia and the forest-clad mountains of tierra del fuego excited in me, has left an indelible impression on my mind. the sight of a naked savage in his native land is an event which can never be forgotten. many of my excursions on horseback through wild countries, or in the boats, some of which lasted several weeks, were deeply interesting: their discomfort and some degree of danger were at that time hardly a drawback, and none at all afterwards. i also reflect with high satisfaction on some of my scientific work, such as solving the problem of coral islands, and making out the geological structure of certain islands, for instance, st. helena. nor must i pass over the discovery of the singular relations of the animals and plants inhabiting the several islands of the galapagos archipelago, and of all of them to the inhabitants of south america. as far as i can judge of myself, i worked to the utmost during the voyage from the mere pleasure of investigation, and from my strong desire to add a few facts to the great mass of facts in natural science. but i was also ambitious to take a fair place among scientific men,--whether more ambitious or less so than most of my fellow-workers, i can form no opinion. the geology of st. jago is very striking, yet simple: a stream of lava formerly flowed over the bed of the sea, formed of triturated recent shells and corals, which it has baked into a hard white rock. since then the whole island has been upheaved. but the line of white rock revealed to me a new and important fact, namely, that there had been afterwards subsidence round the craters, which had since been in action, and had poured forth lava. it then first dawned on me that i might perhaps write a book on the geology of the various countries visited, and this made me thrill with delight. that was a memorable hour to me, and how distinctly i can call to mind the low cliff of lava beneath which i rested, with the sun glaring hot, a few strange desert plants growing near, and with living corals in the tidal pools at my feet. later in the voyage, fitz-roy asked me to read some of my journal, and declared it would be worth publishing; so here was a second book in prospect! towards the close of our voyage i received a letter whilst at ascension, in which my sisters told me that sedgwick had called on my father, and said that i should take a place among the leading scientific men. i could not at the time understand how he could have learnt anything of my proceedings, but i heard (i believe afterwards) that henslow had read some of the letters which i wrote to him before the philosophical society of cambridge (read at the meeting held november , , and printed in a pamphlet of pages for distribution among the members of the society.), and had printed them for private distribution. my collection of fossil bones, which had been sent to henslow, also excited considerable attention amongst palaeontologists. after reading this letter, i clambered over the mountains of ascension with a bounding step, and made the volcanic rocks resound under my geological hammer. all this shows how ambitious i was; but i think that i can say with truth that in after years, though i cared in the highest degree for the approbation of such men as lyell and hooker, who were my friends, i did not care much about the general public. i do not mean to say that a favourable review or a large sale of my books did not please me greatly, but the pleasure was a fleeting one, and i am sure that i have never turned one inch out of my course to gain fame. from my return to england (october , ) to my marriage (january , .) these two years and three months were the most active ones which i ever spent, though i was occasionally unwell, and so lost some time. after going backwards and forwards several times between shrewsbury, maer, cambridge, and london, i settled in lodgings at cambridge (in fitzwilliam street.) on december th, where all my collections were under the care of henslow. i stayed here three months, and got my minerals and rocks examined by the aid of professor miller. i began preparing my 'journal of travels,' which was not hard work, as my ms. journal had been written with care, and my chief labour was making an abstract of my more interesting scientific results. i sent also, at the request of lyell, a short account of my observations on the elevation of the coast of chile to the geological society. ('geolog. soc. proc. ii. , pages - .) on march th, , i took lodgings in great marlborough street in london, and remained there for nearly two years, until i was married. during these two years i finished my journal, read several papers before the geological society, began preparing the ms. for my 'geological observations,' and arranged for the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle".' in july i opened my first note-book for facts in relation to the origin of species, about which i had long reflected, and never ceased working for the next twenty years. during these two years i also went a little into society, and acted as one of the honorary secretaries of the geological society. i saw a great deal of lyell. one of his chief characteristics was his sympathy with the work of others, and i was as much astonished as delighted at the interest which he showed when, on my return to england, i explained to him my views on coral reefs. this encouraged me greatly, and his advice and example had much influence on me. during this time i saw also a good deal of robert brown; i used often to call and sit with him during his breakfast on sunday mornings, and he poured forth a rich treasure of curious observations and acute remarks, but they almost always related to minute points, and he never with me discussed large or general questions in science. during these two years i took several short excursions as a relaxation, and one longer one to the parallel roads of glen roy, an account of which was published in the 'philosophical transactions.' ( , pages - .) this paper was a great failure, and i am ashamed of it. having been deeply impressed with what i had seen of the elevation of the land of south america, i attributed the parallel lines to the action of the sea; but i had to give up this view when agassiz propounded his glacier-lake theory. because no other explanation was possible under our then state of knowledge, i argued in favour of sea-action; and my error has been a good lesson to me never to trust in science to the principle of exclusion. as i was not able to work all day at science, i read a good deal during these two years on various subjects, including some metaphysical books; but i was not well fitted for such studies. about this time i took much delight in wordsworth's and coleridge's poetry; and can boast that i read the 'excursion' twice through. formerly milton's 'paradise lost' had been my chief favourite, and in my excursions during the voyage of the "beagle", when i could take only a single volume, i always chose milton. from my marriage, january , , and residence in upper gower street, to our leaving london and settling at down, september , . (after speaking of his happy married life, and of his children, he continues:--) during the three years and eight months whilst we resided in london, i did less scientific work, though i worked as hard as i possibly could, than during any other equal length of time in my life. this was owing to frequently recurring unwellness, and to one long and serious illness. the greater part of my time, when i could do anything, was devoted to my work on 'coral reefs,' which i had begun before my marriage, and of which the last proof-sheet was corrected on may th, . this book, though a small one, cost me twenty months of hard work, as i had to read every work on the islands of the pacific and to consult many charts. it was thought highly of by scientific men, and the theory therein given is, i think, now well established. no other work of mine was begun in so deductive a spirit as this, for the whole theory was thought out on the west coast of south america, before i had seen a true coral reef. i had therefore only to verify and extend my views by a careful examination of living reefs. but it should be observed that i had during the two previous years been incessantly attending to the effects on the shores of south america of the intermittent elevation of the land, together with denudation and the deposition of sediment. this necessarily led me to reflect much on the effects of subsidence, and it was easy to replace in imagination the continued deposition of sediment by the upward growth of corals. to do this was to form my theory of the formation of barrier-reefs and atolls. besides my work on coral-reefs, during my residence in london, i read before the geological society papers on the erratic boulders of south america ('geolog. soc. proc.' iii. .), on earthquakes ('geolog. trans. v. .), and on the formation by the agency of earth-worms of mould. ('geolog. soc. proc. ii. .) i also continued to superintend the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle".' nor did i ever intermit collecting facts bearing on the origin of species; and i could sometimes do this when i could do nothing else from illness. in the summer of i was stronger than i had been for some time, and took a little tour by myself in north wales, for the sake of observing the effects of the old glaciers which formerly filled all the larger valleys. i published a short account of what i saw in the 'philosophical magazine.' ('philosophical magazine,' .) this excursion interested me greatly, and it was the last time i was ever strong enough to climb mountains or to take long walks such as are necessary for geological work. during the early part of our life in london, i was strong enough to go into general society, and saw a good deal of several scientific men, and other more or less distinguished men. i will give my impressions with respect to some of them, though i have little to say worth saying. i saw more of lyell than of any other man, both before and after my marriage. his mind was characterised, as it appeared to me, by clearness, caution, sound judgment, and a good deal of originality. when i made any remark to him on geology, he never rested until he saw the whole case clearly, and often made me see it more clearly than i had done before. he would advance all possible objections to my suggestion, and even after these were exhausted would long remain dubious. a second characteristic was his hearty sympathy with the work of other scientific men. (the slight repetition here observable is accounted for by the notes on lyell, etc., having been added in april, , a few years after the rest of the 'recollections' were written.) on my return from the voyage of the "beagle", i explained to him my views on coral-reefs, which differed from his, and i was greatly surprised and encouraged by the vivid interest which he showed. his delight in science was ardent, and he felt the keenest interest in the future progress of mankind. he was very kind-hearted, and thoroughly liberal in his religious beliefs, or rather disbeliefs; but he was a strong theist. his candour was highly remarkable. he exhibited this by becoming a convert to the descent theory, though he had gained much fame by opposing lamarck's views, and this after he had grown old. he reminded me that i had many years before said to him, when discussing the opposition of the old school of geologists to his new views, "what a good thing it would be if every scientific man was to die when sixty years old, as afterwards he would be sure to oppose all new doctrines." but he hoped that now he might be allowed to live. the science of geology is enormously indebted to lyell--more so, as i believe, than to any other man who ever lived. when [i was] starting on the voyage of the "beagle", the sagacious henslow, who, like all other geologists, believed at that time in successive cataclysms, advised me to get and study the first volume of the 'principles,' which had then just been published, but on no account to accept the views therein advocated. how differently would anyone now speak of the 'principles'! i am proud to remember that the first place, namely, st. jago, in the cape de verde archipelago, in which i geologised, convinced me of the infinite superiority of lyell's views over those advocated in any other work known to me. the powerful effects of lyell's works could formerly be plainly seen in the different progress of the science in france and england. the present total oblivion of elie de beaumont's wild hypotheses, such as his 'craters of elevation' and 'lines of elevation' (which latter hypothesis i heard sedgwick at the geological society lauding to the skies), may be largely attributed to lyell. i saw a good deal of robert brown, "facile princeps botanicorum," as he was called by humboldt. he seemed to me to be chiefly remarkable for the minuteness of his observations, and their perfect accuracy. his knowledge was extraordinarily great, and much died with him, owing to his excessive fear of ever making a mistake. he poured out his knowledge to me in the most unreserved manner, yet was strangely jealous on some points. i called on him two or three times before the voyage of the "beagle", and on one occasion he asked me to look through a microscope and describe what i saw. this i did, and believe now that it was the marvellous currents of protoplasm in some vegetable cell. i then asked him what i had seen; but he answered me, "that is my little secret." he was capable of the most generous actions. when old, much out of health, and quite unfit for any exertion, he daily visited (as hooker told me) an old man-servant, who lived at a distance (and whom he supported), and read aloud to him. this is enough to make up for any degree of scientific penuriousness or jealousy. i may here mention a few other eminent men, whom i have occasionally seen, but i have little to say about them worth saying. i felt a high reverence for sir j. herschel, and was delighted to dine with him at his charming house at the cape of good hope, and afterwards at his london house. i saw him, also, on a few other occasions. he never talked much, but every word which he uttered was worth listening to. i once met at breakfast at sir r. murchison's house the illustrious humboldt, who honoured me by expressing a wish to see me. i was a little disappointed with the great man, but my anticipations probably were too high. i can remember nothing distinctly about our interview, except that humboldt was very cheerful and talked much. --reminds me of buckle whom i once met at hensleigh wedgwood's. i was very glad to learn from him his system of collecting facts. he told me that he bought all the books which he read, and made a full index, to each, of the facts which he thought might prove serviceable to him, and that he could always remember in what book he had read anything, for his memory was wonderful. i asked him how at first he could judge what facts would be serviceable, and he answered that he did not know, but that a sort of instinct guided him. from this habit of making indices, he was enabled to give the astonishing number of references on all sorts of subjects, which may be found in his 'history of civilisation.' this book i thought most interesting, and read it twice, but i doubt whether his generalisations are worth anything. buckle was a great talker, and i listened to him saying hardly a word, nor indeed could i have done so for he left no gaps. when mrs. farrer began to sing, i jumped up and said that i must listen to her; after i had moved away he turned around to a friend and said (as was overheard by my brother), "well, mr. darwin's books are much better than his conversation." of other great literary men, i once met sydney smith at dean milman's house. there was something inexplicably amusing in every word which he uttered. perhaps this was partly due to the expectation of being amused. he was talking about lady cork, who was then extremely old. this was the lady who, as he said, was once so much affected by one of his charity sermons, that she _borrowed_ a guinea from a friend to put in the plate. he now said "it is generally believed that my dear old friend lady cork has been overlooked," and he said this in such a manner that no one could for a moment doubt that he meant that his dear old friend had been overlooked by the devil. how he managed to express this i know not. i likewise once met macaulay at lord stanhope's (the historian's) house, and as there was only one other man at dinner, i had a grand opportunity of hearing him converse, and he was very agreeable. he did not talk at all too much; nor indeed could such a man talk too much, as long as he allowed others to turn the stream of his conversation, and this he did allow. lord stanhope once gave me a curious little proof of the accuracy and fulness of macaulay's memory: many historians used often to meet at lord stanhope's house, and in discussing various subjects they would sometimes differ from macaulay, and formerly they often referred to some book to see who was right; but latterly, as lord stanhope noticed, no historian ever took this trouble, and whatever macaulay said was final. on another occasion i met at lord stanhope's house, one of his parties of historians and other literary men, and amongst them were motley and grote. after luncheon i walked about chevening park for nearly an hour with grote, and was much interested by his conversation and pleased by the simplicity and absence of all pretension in his manners. long ago i dined occasionally with the old earl, the father of the historian; he was a strange man, but what little i knew of him i liked much. he was frank, genial, and pleasant. he had strongly marked features, with a brown complexion, and his clothes, when i saw him, were all brown. he seemed to believe in everything which was to others utterly incredible. he said one day to me, "why don't you give up your fiddle-faddle of geology and zoology, and turn to the occult sciences!" the historian, then lord mahon, seemed shocked at such a speech to me, and his charming wife much amused. the last man whom i will mention is carlyle, seen by me several times at my brother's house, and two or three times at my own house. his talk was very racy and interesting, just like his writings, but he sometimes went on too long on the same subject. i remember a funny dinner at my brother's, where, amongst a few others, were babbage and lyell, both of whom liked to talk. carlyle, however, silenced every one by haranguing during the whole dinner on the advantages of silence. after dinner babbage, in his grimmest manner, thanked carlyle for his very interesting lecture on silence. carlyle sneered at almost every one: one day in my house he called grote's 'history' "a fetid quagmire, with nothing spiritual about it." i always thought, until his 'reminiscences' appeared, that his sneers were partly jokes, but this now seems rather doubtful. his expression was that of a depressed, almost despondent yet benevolent man; and it is notorious how heartily he laughed. i believe that his benevolence was real, though stained by not a little jealousy. no one can doubt about his extraordinary power of drawing pictures of things and men--far more vivid, as it appears to me, than any drawn by macaulay. whether his pictures of men were true ones is another question. he has been all-powerful in impressing some grand moral truths on the minds of men. on the other hand, his views about slavery were revolting. in his eyes might was right. his mind seemed to me a very narrow one; even if all branches of science, which he despised, are excluded. it is astonishing to me that kingsley should have spoken of him as a man well fitted to advance science. he laughed to scorn the idea that a mathematician, such as whewell, could judge, as i maintained he could, of goethe's views on light. he thought it a most ridiculous thing that any one should care whether a glacier moved a little quicker or a little slower, or moved at all. as far as i could judge, i never met a man with a mind so ill adapted for scientific research. whilst living in london, i attended as regularly as i could the meetings of several scientific societies, and acted as secretary to the geological society. but such attendance, and ordinary society, suited my health so badly that we resolved to live in the country, which we both preferred and have never repented of. residence at down from september , , to the present time, . after several fruitless searches in surrey and elsewhere, we found this house and purchased it. i was pleased with the diversified appearance of vegetation proper to a chalk district, and so unlike what i had been accustomed to in the midland counties; and still more pleased with the extreme quietness and rusticity of the place. it is not, however, quite so retired a place as a writer in a german periodical makes it, who says that my house can be approached only by a mule-track! our fixing ourselves here has answered admirably in one way, which we did not anticipate, namely, by being very convenient for frequent visits from our children. few persons can have lived a more retired life than we have done. besides short visits to the houses of relations, and occasionally to the seaside or elsewhere, we have gone nowhere. during the first part of our residence we went a little into society, and received a few friends here; but my health almost always suffered from the excitement, violent shivering and vomiting attacks being thus brought on. i have therefore been compelled for many years to give up all dinner-parties; and this has been somewhat of a deprivation to me, as such parties always put me into high spirits. from the same cause i have been able to invite here very few scientific acquaintances. my chief enjoyment and sole employment throughout life has been scientific work; and the excitement from such work makes me for the time forget, or drives quite away, my daily discomfort. i have therefore nothing to record during the rest of my life, except the publication of my several books. perhaps a few details how they arose may be worth giving. my several publications. in the early part of , my observations on the volcanic islands visited during the voyage of the "beagle" were published. in , i took much pains in correcting a new edition of my 'journal of researches,' which was originally published in as part of fitz-roy's work. the success of this, my first literary child, always tickles my vanity more than that of any of my other books. even to this day it sells steadily in england and the united states, and has been translated for the second time into german, and into french and other languages. this success of a book of travels, especially of a scientific one, so many years after its first publication, is surprising. ten thousand copies have been sold in england of the second edition. in my 'geological observations on south america' were published. i record in a little diary, which i have always kept, that my three geological books ('coral reefs' included) consumed four and a half years' steady work; "and now it is ten years since my return to england. how much time have i lost by illness?" i have nothing to say about these three books except that to my surprise new editions have lately been called for. ('geological observations,' nd edit. . 'coral reefs,' nd edit. .) in october, , i began to work on 'cirripedia.' when on the coast of chile, i found a most curious form, which burrowed into the shells of concholepas, and which differed so much from all other cirripedes that i had to form a new sub-order for its sole reception. lately an allied burrowing genus has been found on the shores of portugal. to understand the structure of my new cirripede i had to examine and dissect many of the common forms; and this gradually led me on to take up the whole group. i worked steadily on this subject for the next eight years, and ultimately published two thick volumes (published by the ray society.), describing all the known living species, and two thin quartos on the extinct species. i do not doubt that sir e. lytton bulwer had me in his mind when he introduced in one of his novels a professor long, who had written two huge volumes on limpets. although i was employed during eight years on this work, yet i record in my diary that about two years out of this time was lost by illness. on this account i went in for some months to malvern for hydropathic treatment, which did me much good, so that on my return home i was able to resume work. so much was i out of health that when my dear father died on november th, , i was unable to attend his funeral or to act as one of his executors. my work on the cirripedia possesses, i think, considerable value, as besides describing several new and remarkable forms, i made out the homologies of the various parts--i discovered the cementing apparatus, though i blundered dreadfully about the cement glands--and lastly i proved the existence in certain genera of minute males complemental to and parasitic on the hermaphrodites. this latter discovery has at last been fully confirmed; though at one time a german writer was pleased to attribute the whole account to my fertile imagination. the cirripedes form a highly varying and difficult group of species to class; and my work was of considerable use to me, when i had to discuss in the 'origin of species' the principles of a natural classification. nevertheless, i doubt whether the work was worth the consumption of so much time. from september i devoted my whole time to arranging my huge pile of notes, to observing, and to experimenting in relation to the transmutation of species. during the voyage of the "beagle" i had been deeply impressed by discovering in the pampean formation great fossil animals covered with armour like that on the existing armadillos; secondly, by the manner in which closely allied animals replace one another in proceeding southwards over the continent; and thirdly, by the south american character of most of the productions of the galapagos archipelago, and more especially by the manner in which they differ slightly on each island of the group; none of the islands appearing to be very ancient in a geological sense. it was evident that such facts as these, as well as many others, could only be explained on the supposition that species gradually become modified; and the subject haunted me. but it was equally evident that neither the action of the surrounding conditions, nor the will of the organisms (especially in the case of plants) could account for the innumerable cases in which organisms of every kind are beautifully adapted to their habits of life--for instance, a woodpecker or a tree-frog to climb trees, or a seed for dispersal by hooks or plumes. i had always been much struck by such adaptations, and until these could be explained it seemed to me almost useless to endeavour to prove by indirect evidence that species have been modified. after my return to england it appeared to me that by following the example of lyell in geology, and by collecting all facts which bore in any way on the variation of animals and plants under domestication and nature, some light might perhaps be thrown on the whole subject. my first note-book was opened in july . i worked on true baconian principles, and without any theory collected facts on a wholesale scale, more especially with respect to domesticated productions, by printed enquiries, by conversation with skilful breeders and gardeners, and by extensive reading. when i see the list of books of all kinds which i read and abstracted, including whole series of journals and transactions, i am surprised at my industry. i soon perceived that selection was the keystone of man's success in making useful races of animals and plants. but how selection could be applied to organisms living in a state of nature remained for some time a mystery to me. in october , that is, fifteen months after i had begun my systematic enquiry, i happened to read for amusement 'malthus on population,' and being well prepared to appreciate the struggle for existence which everywhere goes on from long-continued observation of the habits of animals and plants, it at once struck me that under these circumstances favourable variations would tend to be preserved, and unfavourable ones to be destroyed. the result of this would be the formation of new species. here then i had at last got a theory by which to work; but i was so anxious to avoid prejudice, that i determined not for some time to write even the briefest sketch of it. in june i first allowed myself the satisfaction of writing a very brief abstract of my theory in pencil in pages; and this was enlarged during the summer of into one of pages, which i had fairly copied out and still possess. but at that time i overlooked one problem of great importance; and it is astonishing to me, except on the principle of columbus and his egg, how i could have overlooked it and its solution. this problem is the tendency in organic beings descended from the same stock to diverge in character as they become modified. that they have diverged greatly is obvious from the manner in which species of all kinds can be classed under genera, genera under families, families under sub-orders and so forth; and i can remember the very spot in the road, whilst in my carriage, when to my joy the solution occurred to me; and this was long after i had come to down. the solution, as i believe, is that the modified offspring of all dominant and increasing forms tend to become adapted to many and highly diversified places in the economy of nature. early in lyell advised me to write out my views pretty fully, and i began at once to do so on a scale three or four times as extensive as that which was afterwards followed in my 'origin of species;' yet it was only an abstract of the materials which i had collected, and i got through about half the work on this scale. but my plans were overthrown, for early in the summer of mr. wallace, who was then in the malay archipelago, sent me an essay "on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type;" and this essay contained exactly the same theory as mine. mr. wallace expressed the wish that if i thought well of his essay, i should sent it to lyell for perusal. the circumstances under which i consented at the request of lyell and hooker to allow of an abstract from my ms., together with a letter to asa gray, dated september , , to be published at the same time with wallace's essay, are given in the 'journal of the proceedings of the linnean society,' , page . i was at first very unwilling to consent, as i thought mr. wallace might consider my doing so unjustifiable, for i did not then know how generous and noble was his disposition. the extract from my ms. and the letter to asa gray had neither been intended for publication, and were badly written. mr. wallace's essay, on the other hand, was admirably expressed and quite clear. nevertheless, our joint productions excited very little attention, and the only published notice of them which i can remember was by professor haughton of dublin, whose verdict was that all that was new in them was false, and what was true was old. this shows how necessary it is that any new view should be explained at considerable length in order to arouse public attention. in september i set to work by the strong advice of lyell and hooker to prepare a volume on the transmutation of species, but was often interrupted by ill-health, and short visits to dr. lane's delightful hydropathic establishment at moor park. i abstracted the ms. begun on a much larger scale in , and completed the volume on the same reduced scale. it cost me thirteen months and ten days' hard labour. it was published under the title of the 'origin of species,' in november . though considerably added to and corrected in the later editions, it has remained substantially the same book. it is no doubt the chief work of my life. it was from the first highly successful. the first small edition of copies was sold on the day of publication, and a second edition of copies soon afterwards. sixteen thousand copies have now ( ) been sold in england; and considering how stiff a book it is, this is a large sale. it has been translated into almost every european tongue, even into such languages as spanish, bohemian, polish, and russian. it has also, according to miss bird, been translated into japanese (miss bird is mistaken, as i learn from prof. mitsukuri.--f.d.), and is there much studied. even an essay in hebrew has appeared on it, showing that the theory is contained in the old testament! the reviews were very numerous; for some time i collected all that appeared on the 'origin' and on my related books, and these amount (excluding newspaper reviews) to ; but after a time i gave up the attempt in despair. many separate essays and books on the subject have appeared; and in germany a catalogue or bibliography on "darwinismus" has appeared every year or two. the success of the 'origin' may, i think, be attributed in large part to my having long before written two condensed sketches, and to my having finally abstracted a much larger manuscript, which was itself an abstract. by this means i was enabled to select the more striking facts and conclusions. i had, also, during many years followed a golden rule, namely, that whenever a published fact, a new observation or thought came across me, which was opposed to my general results, to make a memorandum of it without fail and at once; for i had found by experience that such facts and thoughts were far more apt to escape from the memory than favourable ones. owing to this habit, very few objections were raised against my views which i had not at least noticed and attempted to answer. it has sometimes been said that the success of the 'origin' proved "that the subject was in the air," or "that men's minds were prepared for it." i do not think that this is strictly true, for i occasionally sounded not a few naturalists, and never happened to come across a single one who seemed to doubt about the permanence of species. even lyell and hooker, though they would listen with interest to me, never seemed to agree. i tried once or twice to explain to able men what i meant by natural selection, but signally failed. what i believe was strictly true is that innumerable well-observed facts were stored in the minds of naturalists ready to take their proper places as soon as any theory which would receive them was sufficiently explained. another element in the success of the book was its moderate size; and this i owe to the appearance of mr. wallace's essay; had i published on the scale in which i began to write in , the book would have been four or five times as large as the 'origin,' and very few would have had the patience to read it. i gained much by my delay in publishing from about , when the theory was clearly conceived, to ; and i lost nothing by it, for i cared very little whether men attributed most originality to me or wallace; and his essay no doubt aided in the reception of the theory. i was forestalled in only one important point, which my vanity has always made me regret, namely, the explanation by means of the glacial period of the presence of the same species of plants and of some few animals on distant mountain summits and in the arctic regions. this view pleased me so much that i wrote it out in extenso, and i believe that it was read by hooker some years before e. forbes published his celebrated memoir ('geolog. survey mem.,' .) on the subject. in the very few points in which we differed, i still think that i was in the right. i have never, of course, alluded in print to my having independently worked out this view. hardly any point gave me so much satisfaction when i was at work on the 'origin,' as the explanation of the wide difference in many classes between the embryo and the adult animal, and of the close resemblance of the embryos within the same class. no notice of this point was taken, as far as i remember, in the early reviews of the 'origin,' and i recollect expressing my surprise on this head in a letter to asa gray. within late years several reviewers have given the whole credit to fritz muller and hackel, who undoubtedly have worked it out much more fully, and in some respects more correctly than i did. i had materials for a whole chapter on the subject, and i ought to have made the discussion longer; for it is clear that i failed to impress my readers; and he who succeeds in doing so deserves, in my opinion, all the credit. this leads me to remark that i have almost always been treated honestly by my reviewers, passing over those without scientific knowledge as not worthy of notice. my views have often been grossly misrepresented, bitterly opposed and ridiculed, but this has been generally done, as i believe, in good faith. on the whole i do not doubt that my works have been over and over again greatly overpraised. i rejoice that i have avoided controversies, and this i owe to lyell, who many years ago, in reference to my geological works, strongly advised me never to get entangled in a controversy, as it rarely did any good and caused a miserable loss of time and temper. whenever i have found out that i have blundered, or that my work has been imperfect, and when i have been contemptuously criticised, and even when i have been overpraised, so that i have felt mortified, it has been my greatest comfort to say hundreds of times to myself that "i have worked as hard and as well as i could, and no man can do more than this." i remember when in good success bay, in tierra del fuego, thinking (and, i believe, that i wrote home to the effect) that i could not employ my life better than in adding a little to natural science. this i have done to the best of my abilities, and critics may say what they like, but they cannot destroy this conviction. during the two last months of i was fully occupied in preparing a second edition of the 'origin,' and by an enormous correspondence. on january st, , i began arranging my notes for my work on the 'variation of animals and plants under domestication;' but it was not published until the beginning of ; the delay having been caused partly by frequent illnesses, one of which lasted seven months, and partly by being tempted to publish on other subjects which at the time interested me more. on may th, , my little book on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' which cost me ten months' work, was published: most of the facts had been slowly accumulated during several previous years. during the summer of , and, i believe, during the previous summer, i was led to attend to the cross-fertilisation of flowers by the aid of insects, from having come to the conclusion in my speculations on the origin of species, that crossing played an important part in keeping specific forms constant. i attended to the subject more or less during every subsequent summer; and my interest in it was greatly enhanced by having procured and read in november , through the advice of robert brown, a copy of c.k. sprengel's wonderful book, 'das entdeckte geheimniss der natur.' for some years before i had specially attended to the fertilisation of our british orchids; and it seemed to me the best plan to prepare as complete a treatise on this group of plants as well as i could, rather than to utilise the great mass of matter which i had slowly collected with respect to other plants. my resolve proved a wise one; for since the appearance of my book, a surprising number of papers and separate works on the fertilisation of all kinds of flowers have appeared: and these are far better done than i could possibly have effected. the merits of poor old sprengel, so long overlooked, are now fully recognised many years after his death. during the same year i published in the 'journal of the linnean society' a paper "on the two forms, or dimorphic condition of primula," and during the next five years, five other papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants. i do not think anything in my scientific life has given me so much satisfaction as making out the meaning of the structure of these plants. i had noticed in or the dimorphism of linum flavum, and had at first thought that it was merely a case of unmeaning variability. but on examining the common species of primula i found that the two forms were much too regular and constant to be thus viewed. i therefore became almost convinced that the common cowslip and primrose were on the high road to become dioecious;--that the short pistil in the one form, and the short stamens in the other form were tending towards abortion. the plants were therefore subjected under this point of view to trial; but as soon as the flowers with short pistils fertilised with pollen from the short stamens, were found to yield more seeds than any other of the four possible unions, the abortion-theory was knocked on the head. after some additional experiment, it became evident that the two forms, though both were perfect hermaphrodites, bore almost the same relation to one another as do the two sexes of an ordinary animal. with lythrum we have the still more wonderful case of three forms standing in a similar relation to one another. i afterwards found that the offspring from the union of two plants belonging to the same forms presented a close and curious analogy with hybrids from the union of two distinct species. in the autumn of i finished a long paper on 'climbing plants,' and sent it to the linnean society. the writing of this paper cost me four months; but i was so unwell when i received the proof-sheets that i was forced to leave them very badly and often obscurely expressed. the paper was little noticed, but when in it was corrected and published as a separate book it sold well. i was led to take up this subject by reading a short paper by asa gray, published in . he sent me seeds, and on raising some plants i was so much fascinated and perplexed by the revolving movements of the tendrils and stems, which movements are really very simple, though appearing at first sight very complex, that i procured various other kinds of climbing plants, and studied the whole subject. i was all the more attracted to it, from not being at all satisfied with the explanation which henslow gave us in his lectures, about twining plants, namely, that they had a natural tendency to grow up in a spire. this explanation proved quite erroneous. some of the adaptations displayed by climbing plants are as beautiful as those of orchids for ensuring cross-fertilisation. my 'variation of animals and plants under domestication' was begun, as already stated, in the beginning of , but was not published until the beginning of . it was a big book, and cost me four years and two months' hard labour. it gives all my observations and an immense number of facts collected from various sources, about our domestic productions. in the second volume the causes and laws of variation, inheritance, etc., are discussed as far as our present state of knowledge permits. towards the end of the work i give my well-abused hypothesis of pangenesis. an unverified hypothesis is of little or no value; but if anyone should hereafter be led to make observations by which some such hypothesis could be established, i shall have done good service, as an astonishing number of isolated facts can be thus connected together and rendered intelligible. in a second and largely corrected edition, which cost me a good deal of labour, was brought out. my 'descent of man' was published in february, . as soon as i had become, in the year or , convinced that species were mutable productions, i could not avoid the belief that man must come under the same law. accordingly i collected notes on the subject for my own satisfaction, and not for a long time with any intention of publishing. although in the 'origin of species' the derivation of any particular species is never discussed, yet i thought it best, in order that no honourable man should accuse me of concealing my views, to add that by the work "light would be thrown on the origin of man and his history." it would have been useless and injurious to the success of the book to have paraded, without giving any evidence, my conviction with respect to his origin. but when i found that many naturalists fully accepted the doctrine of the evolution of species, it seemed to me advisable to work up such notes as i possessed, and to publish a special treatise on the origin of man. i was the more glad to do so, as it gave me an opportunity of fully discussing sexual selection--a subject which had always greatly interested me. this subject, and that of the variation of our domestic productions, together with the causes and laws of variation, inheritance, and the intercrossing of plants, are the sole subjects which i have been able to write about in full, so as to use all the materials which i have collected. the 'descent of man' took me three years to write, but then as usual some of this time was lost by ill health, and some was consumed by preparing new editions and other minor works. a second and largely corrected edition of the 'descent' appeared in . my book on the 'expression of the emotions in men and animals' was published in the autumn of . i had intended to give only a chapter on the subject in the 'descent of man,' but as soon as i began to put my notes together, i saw that it would require a separate treatise. my first child was born on december th, , and i at once commenced to make notes on the first dawn of the various expressions which he exhibited, for i felt convinced, even at this early period, that the most complex and fine shades of expression must all have had a gradual and natural origin. during the summer of the following year, , i read sir c. bell's admirable work on expression, and this greatly increased the interest which i felt in the subject, though i could not at all agree with his belief that various muscles had been specially created for the sake of expression. from this time forward i occasionally attended to the subject, both with respect to man and our domesticated animals. my book sold largely; copies having been disposed of on the day of publication. in the summer of i was idling and resting near hartfield, where two species of drosera abound; and i noticed that numerous insects had been entrapped by the leaves. i carried home some plants, and on giving them insects saw the movements of the tentacles, and this made me think it probable that the insects were caught for some special purpose. fortunately a crucial test occurred to me, that of placing a large number of leaves in various nitrogenous and non-nitrogenous fluids of equal density; and as soon as i found that the former alone excited energetic movements, it was obvious that here was a fine new field for investigation. during subsequent years, whenever i had leisure, i pursued my experiments, and my book on 'insectivorous plants' was published in july --that is, sixteen years after my first observations. the delay in this case, as with all my other books, has been a great advantage to me; for a man after a long interval can criticise his own work, almost as well as if it were that of another person. the fact that a plant should secrete, when properly excited, a fluid containing an acid and ferment, closely analogous to the digestive fluid of an animal, was certainly a remarkable discovery. during this autumn of i shall publish on the 'effects of cross and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom.' this book will form a complement to that on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' in which i showed how perfect were the means for cross-fertilisation, and here i shall show how important are the results. i was led to make, during eleven years, the numerous experiments recorded in this volume, by a mere accidental observation; and indeed it required the accident to be repeated before my attention was thoroughly aroused to the remarkable fact that seedlings of self-fertilised parentage are inferior, even in the first generation, in height and vigour to seedlings of cross-fertilised parentage. i hope also to republish a revised edition of my book on orchids, and hereafter my papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants, together with some additional observations on allied points which i never have had time to arrange. my strength will then probably be exhausted, and i shall be ready to exclaim "nunc dimittis." written may st, . 'the effects of cross and self-fertilisation' was published in the autumn of ; and the results there arrived at explain, as i believe, the endless and wonderful contrivances for the transportal of pollen from one plant to another of the same species. i now believe, however, chiefly from the observations of hermann muller, that i ought to have insisted more strongly than i did on the many adaptations for self-fertilisation; though i was well aware of many such adaptations. a much enlarged edition of my 'fertilisation of orchids' was published in . in this same year 'the different forms of flowers, etc.,' appeared, and in a second edition. this book consists chiefly of the several papers on heterostyled flowers originally published by the linnean society, corrected, with much new matter added, together with observations on some other cases in which the same plant bears two kinds of flowers. as before remarked, no little discovery of mine ever gave me so much pleasure as the making out the meaning of heterostyled flowers. the results of crossing such flowers in an illegitimate manner, i believe to be very important, as bearing on the sterility of hybrids; although these results have been noticed by only a few persons. in , i had a translation of dr. ernst krause's 'life of erasmus darwin' published, and i added a sketch of his character and habits from material in my possession. many persons have been much interested by this little life, and i am surprised that only or copies were sold. in i published, with [my son] frank's assistance, our 'power of movement in plants.' this was a tough piece of work. the book bears somewhat the same relation to my little book on 'climbing plants,' which 'cross-fertilisation' did to the 'fertilisation of orchids;' for in accordance with the principle of evolution it was impossible to account for climbing plants having been developed in so many widely different groups unless all kinds of plants possess some slight power of movement of an analogous kind. this i proved to be the case; and i was further led to a rather wide generalisation, viz. that the great and important classes of movements, excited by light, the attraction of gravity, etc., are all modified forms of the fundamental movement of circumnutation. it has always pleased me to exalt plants in the scale of organised beings; and i therefore felt an especial pleasure in showing how many and what admirably well adapted movements the tip of a root possesses. i have now (may , ) sent to the printers the ms. of a little book on 'the formation of vegetable mould, through the action of worms.' this is a subject of but small importance; and i know not whether it will interest any readers (between november and february , copies have been sold.), but it has interested me. it is the completion of a short paper read before the geological society more than forty years ago, and has revived old geological thoughts. i have now mentioned all the books which i have published, and these have been the milestones in my life, so that little remains to be said. i am not conscious of any change in my mind during the last thirty years, excepting in one point presently to be mentioned; nor, indeed, could any change have been expected unless one of general deterioration. but my father lived to his eighty-third year with his mind as lively as ever it was, and all his faculties undimmed; and i hope that i may die before my mind fails to a sensible extent. i think that i have become a little more skilful in guessing right explanations and in devising experimental tests; but this may probably be the result of mere practice, and of a larger store of knowledge. i have as much difficulty as ever in expressing myself clearly and concisely; and this difficulty has caused me a very great loss of time; but it has had the compensating advantage of forcing me to think long and intently about every sentence, and thus i have been led to see errors in reasoning and in my own observations or those of others. there seems to be a sort of fatality in my mind leading me to put at first my statement or proposition in a wrong or awkward form. formerly i used to think about my sentences before writing them down; but for several years i have found that it saves time to scribble in a vile hand whole pages as quickly as i possibly can, contracting half the words; and then correct deliberately. sentences thus scribbled down are often better ones than i could have written deliberately. having said thus much about my manner of writing, i will add that with my large books i spend a good deal of time over the general arrangement of the matter. i first make the rudest outline in two or three pages, and then a larger one in several pages, a few words or one word standing for a whole discussion or series of facts. each one of these headings is again enlarged and often transferred before i begin to write in extenso. as in several of my books facts observed by others have been very extensively used, and as i have always had several quite distinct subjects in hand at the same time, i may mention that i keep from thirty to forty large portfolios, in cabinets with labelled shelves, into which i can at once put a detached reference or memorandum. i have bought many books, and at their ends i make an index of all the facts that concern my work; or, if the book is not my own, write out a separate abstract, and of such abstracts i have a large drawer full. before beginning on any subject i look to all the short indexes and make a general and classified index, and by taking the one or more proper portfolios i have all the information collected during my life ready for use. i have said that in one respect my mind has changed during the last twenty or thirty years. up to the age of thirty, or beyond it, poetry of many kinds, such as the works of milton, gray, byron, wordsworth, coleridge, and shelley, gave me great pleasure, and even as a schoolboy i took intense delight in shakespeare, especially in the historical plays. i have also said that formerly pictures gave me considerable, and music very great delight. but now for many years i cannot endure to read a line of poetry: i have tried lately to read shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. i have also almost lost my taste for pictures or music. music generally sets me thinking too energetically on what i have been at work on, instead of giving me pleasure. i retain some taste for fine scenery, but it does not cause me the exquisite delight which it formerly did. on the other hand, novels which are works of the imagination, though not of a very high order, have been for years a wonderful relief and pleasure to me, and i often bless all novelists. a surprising number have been read aloud to me, and i like all if moderately good, and if they do not end unhappily--against which a law ought to be passed. a novel, according to my taste, does not come into the first class unless it contains some person whom one can thoroughly love, and if a pretty woman all the better. this curious and lamentable loss of the higher aesthetic tastes is all the odder, as books on history, biographies, and travels (independently of any scientific facts which they may contain), and essays on all sorts of subjects interest me as much as ever they did. my mind seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, i cannot conceive. a man with a mind more highly organised or better constituted than mine, would not, i suppose, have thus suffered; and if i had to live my life again, i would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept active through use. the loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature. my books have sold largely in england, have been translated into many languages, and passed through several editions in foreign countries. i have heard it said that the success of a work abroad is the best test of its enduring value. i doubt whether this is at all trustworthy; but judged by this standard my name ought to last for a few years. therefore it may be worth while to try to analyse the mental qualities and the conditions on which my success has depended; though i am aware that no man can do this correctly. i have no great quickness of apprehension or wit which is so remarkable in some clever men, for instance, huxley. i am therefore a poor critic: a paper or book, when first read, generally excites my admiration, and it is only after considerable reflection that i perceive the weak points. my power to follow a long and purely abstract train of thought is very limited; and therefore i could never have succeeded with metaphysics or mathematics. my memory is extensive, yet hazy: it suffices to make me cautious by vaguely telling me that i have observed or read something opposed to the conclusion which i am drawing, or on the other hand in favour of it; and after a time i can generally recollect where to search for my authority. so poor in one sense is my memory, that i have never been able to remember for more than a few days a single date or a line of poetry. some of my critics have said, "oh, he is a good observer, but he has no power of reasoning!" i do not think that this can be true, for the 'origin of species' is one long argument from the beginning to the end, and it has convinced not a few able men. no one could have written it without having some power of reasoning. i have a fair share of invention, and of common sense or judgment, such as every fairly successful lawyer or doctor must have, but not, i believe, in any higher degree. on the favourable side of the balance, i think that i am superior to the common run of men in noticing things which easily escape attention, and in observing them carefully. my industry has been nearly as great as it could have been in the observation and collection of facts. what is far more important, my love of natural science has been steady and ardent. this pure love has, however, been much aided by the ambition to be esteemed by my fellow naturalists. from my early youth i have had the strongest desire to understand or explain whatever i observed,--that is, to group all facts under some general laws. these causes combined have given me the patience to reflect or ponder for any number of years over any unexplained problem. as far as i can judge, i am not apt to follow blindly the lead of other men. i have steadily endeavoured to keep my mind free so as to give up any hypothesis, however much beloved (and i cannot resist forming one on every subject), as soon as facts are shown to be opposed to it. indeed, i have had no choice but to act in this manner, for with the exception of the coral reefs, i cannot remember a single first-formed hypothesis which had not after a time to be given up or greatly modified. this has naturally led me to distrust greatly deductive reasoning in the mixed sciences. on the other hand, i am not very sceptical,--a frame of mind which i believe to be injurious to the progress of science. a good deal of scepticism in a scientific man is advisable to avoid much loss of time, but i have met with not a few men, who, i feel sure, have often thus been deterred from experiment or observations, which would have proved directly or indirectly serviceable. in illustration, i will give the oddest case which i have known. a gentleman (who, as i afterwards heard, is a good local botanist) wrote to me from the eastern counties that the seed or beans of the common field-bean had this year everywhere grown on the wrong side of the pod. i wrote back, asking for further information, as i did not understand what was meant; but i did not receive any answer for a very long time. i then saw in two newspapers, one published in kent and the other in yorkshire, paragraphs stating that it was a most remarkable fact that "the beans this year had all grown on the wrong side." so i thought there must be some foundation for so general a statement. accordingly, i went to my gardener, an old kentish man, and asked him whether he had heard anything about it, and he answered, "oh, no, sir, it must be a mistake, for the beans grow on the wrong side only on leap-year, and this is not leap-year." i then asked him how they grew in common years and how on leap-years, but soon found that he knew absolutely nothing of how they grew at any time, but he stuck to his belief. after a time i heard from my first informant, who, with many apologies, said that he should not have written to me had he not heard the statement from several intelligent farmers; but that he had since spoken again to every one of them, and not one knew in the least what he had himself meant. so that here a belief--if indeed a statement with no definite idea attached to it can be called a belief--had spread over almost the whole of england without any vestige of evidence. i have known in the course of my life only three intentionally falsified statements, and one of these may have been a hoax (and there have been several scientific hoaxes) which, however, took in an american agricultural journal. it related to the formation in holland of a new breed of oxen by the crossing of distinct species of bos (some of which i happen to know are sterile together), and the author had the impudence to state that he had corresponded with me, and that i had been deeply impressed with the importance of his result. the article was sent to me by the editor of an english agricultural journal, asking for my opinion before republishing it. a second case was an account of several varieties, raised by the author from several species of primula, which had spontaneously yielded a full complement of seed, although the parent plants had been carefully protected from the access of insects. this account was published before i had discovered the meaning of heterostylism, and the whole statement must have been fraudulent, or there was neglect in excluding insects so gross as to be scarcely credible. the third case was more curious: mr. huth published in his book on 'consanguineous marriage' some long extracts from a belgian author, who stated that he had interbred rabbits in the closest manner for very many generations, without the least injurious effects. the account was published in a most respectable journal, that of the royal society of belgium; but i could not avoid feeling doubts--i hardly know why, except that there were no accidents of any kind, and my experience in breeding animals made me think this very improbable. so with much hesitation i wrote to professor van beneden, asking him whether the author was a trustworthy man. i soon heard in answer that the society had been greatly shocked by discovering that the whole account was a fraud. (the falseness of the published statements on which mr. huth relied has been pointed out by himself in a slip inserted in all the copies of his book which then remained unsold.) the writer had been publicly challenged in the journal to say where he had resided and kept his large stock of rabbits while carrying on his experiments, which must have consumed several years, and no answer could be extracted from him. my habits are methodical, and this has been of not a little use for my particular line of work. lastly, i have had ample leisure from not having to earn my own bread. even ill-health, though it has annihilated several years of my life, has saved me from the distractions of society and amusement. therefore my success as a man of science, whatever this may have amounted to, has been determined, as far as i can judge, by complex and diversified mental qualities and conditions. of these, the most important have been--the love of science--unbounded patience in long reflecting over any subject--industry in observing and collecting facts--and a fair share of invention as well as of common sense. with such moderate abilities as i possess, it is truly surprising that i should have influenced to a considerable extent the belief of scientific men on some important points. the life and letters of charles darwin by charles darwin including an autobiographical chapter edited by his son francis darwin volume i preface in choosing letters for publication i have been largely guided by the wish to illustrate my father's personal character. but his life was so essentially one of work, that a history of the man could not be written without following closely the career of the author. thus it comes about that the chief part of the book falls into chapters whose titles correspond to the names of his books. in arranging the letters i have adhered as far as possible to chronological sequence, but the character and variety of his researches make a strictly chronological order an impossibility. it was his habit to work more or less simultaneously at several subjects. experimental work was often carried on as a refreshment or variety, while books entailing reasoning and the marshalling of large bodies of facts were being written. moreover, many of his researches were allowed to drop, and only resumed after an interval of years. thus a rigidly chronological series of letters would present a patchwork of subjects, each of which would be difficult to follow. the table of contents will show in what way i have attempted to avoid this result. in printing the letters i have followed (except in a few cases) the usual plan of indicating the existence of omissions or insertions. my father's letters give frequent evidence of having been written when he was tired or hurried, and they bear the marks of this circumstance. in writing to a friend, or to one of his family, he frequently omitted the articles: these have been inserted without the usual indications, except in a few instances, where it is of special interest to preserve intact the hurried character of the letter. other small words, such as "of", "to", etc., have been inserted usually within brackets. i have not followed the originals as regards the spelling of names, the use of capitals, or in the matter of punctuation. my father underlined many words in his letters; these have not always been given in italics,--a rendering which would unfairly exaggerate their effect. the diary or pocket-book, from which quotations occur in the following pages, has been of value as supplying a frame-work of facts round which letters may be grouped. it is unfortunately written with great brevity, the history of a year being compressed into a page or less; and contains little more than the dates of the principal events of his life, together with entries as to his work, and as to the duration of his more serious illnesses. he rarely dated his letters, so that but for the diary it would have been all but impossible to unravel the history of his books. it has also enabled me to assign dates to many letters which would otherwise have been shorn of half their value. of letters addressed to my father i have not made much use. it was his custom to file all letters received, and when his slender stock of files ("spits" as he called them) was exhausted, he would burn the letters of several years, in order that he might make use of the liberated "spits." this process, carried on for years, destroyed nearly all letters received before . after that date he was persuaded to keep the more interesting letters, and these are preserved in an accessible form. i have attempted to give, in chapter iii., some account of his manner of working. during the last eight years of his life i acted as his assistant, and thus had an opportunity of knowing something of his habits and methods. i have received much help from my friends in the course of my work. to some i am indebted for reminiscences of my father, to others for information, criticisms, and advice. to all these kind coadjutors i gladly acknowledge my indebtedness. the names of some occur in connection with their contributions, but i do not name those to whom i am indebted for criticisms or corrections, because i should wish to bear alone the load of my short-comings, rather than to let any of it fall on those who have done their best to lighten it. it will be seen how largely i am indebted to sir joseph hooker for the means of illustrating my father's life. the readers of these pages will, i think, be grateful to sir joseph for the care with which he has preserved his valuable collection of letters, and i should wish to add my acknowledgment of the generosity with which he has placed it at my disposal, and for the kindly encouragement given throughout my work. to mr. huxley i owe a debt of thanks, not only for much kind help, but for his willing compliance with my request that he should contribute a chapter on the reception of the 'origin of species.' finally, it is a pleasure to acknowledge the courtesy of the publishers of the 'century magazine' who have freely given me the use of their illustrations. to messrs. maull and fox and messrs. elliott and fry i am also indebted for their kindness in allowing me the use of reproductions of their photographs. francis darwin. cambridge, october, . table of contents. volume i. chapter .i.--the darwin family. chapter .ii.--autobiography. chapter .iii.--reminiscences. letters. chapter .iv.--cambridge life-- - . chapter .v.--the appointment to the 'beagle'-- . chapter .vi.--the voyage-- - . chapter .vii.--london and cambridge-- - . chapter .viii.--religion. chapter .ix.--life at down-- - . chapter .x.--the growth of the 'origin of species.' chapter .xi.--the growth of the 'origin of species'--letters-- - . chapter .xii.--the unfinished book--may -june . chapter .xiii.--the writing of the 'origin of species'--june , --november . chapter .xiv.--professor huxley on the reception of the 'origin of species.' life and letters of charles darwin. volume i. chapter .i. -- the darwin family. the earliest records of the family show the darwins to have been substantial yeomen residing on the northern borders of lincolnshire, close to yorkshire. the name is now very unusual in england, but i believe that it is not unknown in the neighbourhood of sheffield and in lancashire. down to the year we find the name spelt in a variety of ways--derwent, darwen, darwynne, etc. it is possible, therefore, that the family migrated at some unknown date from yorkshire, cumberland, or derbyshire, where derwent occurs as the name of a river. the first ancestor of whom we know was one william darwin, who lived, about the year , at marton, near gainsborough. his great grandson, richard darwyn, inherited land at marton and elsewhere, and in his will, dated , "bequeathed the sum of s. d. towards the settynge up of the queene's majestie's armes over the quearie (choir) doore in the parishe churche of marton." (we owe a knowledge of these earlier members of the family to researches amongst the wills at lincoln, made by the well-known genealogist, colonel chester.) the son of this richard, named william darwin, and described as "gentleman," appears to have been a successful man. whilst retaining his ancestral land at marton, he acquired through his wife and by purchase an estate at cleatham, in the parish of manton, near kirton lindsey, and fixed his residence there. this estate remained in the family down to the year . a cottage with thick walls, some fish-ponds and old trees, now alone show where the "old hall" once stood, and a field is still locally known as the "darwin charity," from being subject to a charge in favour of the poor of marton. william darwin must, at least in part, have owed his rise in station to his appointment in by james i. to the post of yeoman of the royal armoury of greenwich. the office appears to have been worth only pounds a year, and the duties were probably almost nominal; he held the post down to his death during the civil wars. the fact that this william was a royal servant may explain why his son, also named william, served when almost a boy for the king, as "captain-lieutenant" in sir william pelham's troop of horse. on the partial dispersion of the royal armies, and the retreat of the remainder to scotland, the boy's estates were sequestrated by the parliament, but they were redeemed on his signing the solemn league and covenant, and on his paying a fine which must have struck his finances severely; for in a petition to charles ii. he speaks of his almost utter ruin from having adhered to the royal cause. during the commonwealth, william darwin became a barrister of lincoln's inn, and this circumstance probably led to his marriage with the daughter of erasmus earle, serjeant-at-law; hence his great-grandson, erasmus darwin, the poet, derived his christian name. he ultimately became recorder of the city of lincoln. the eldest son of the recorder, again called william, was born in , and married the heiress of robert waring, a member of a good staffordshire family. this lady inherited from the family of lassells, or lascelles, the manor and hall of elston, near newark, which has remained ever since in the family. (captain lassells, or lascelles, of elston was military secretary to monk, duke of albemarle, during the civil wars. a large volume of account books, countersigned in many places by monk, are now in the possession of my cousin francis darwin. the accounts might possibly prove of interest to the antiquarian or historian. a portrait of captain lassells in armour, although used at one time as an archery-target by some small boys of our name, was not irretrievably ruined.) a portrait of this william darwin at elston shows him as a good-looking young man in a full-bottomed wig. this third william had two sons, william, and robert who was educated as a barrister. the cleatham property was left to william, but on the termination of his line in daughters reverted to the younger brother, who had received elston. on his mother's death robert gave up his profession and resided ever afterwards at elston hall. of this robert, charles darwin writes (what follows is quoted from charles darwin's biography of his grandfather, forming the preliminary notice to ernst krause's interesting essay, 'erasmus darwin,' london, , page .):-- "he seems to have had some taste for science, for he was an early member of the well-known spalding club; and the celebrated antiquary dr. stukeley, in 'an account of the almost entire sceleton of a large animal,' etc., published in the 'philosophical transactions,' april and may , begins the paper as follows: 'having an account from my friend robert darwin, esq., of lincoln's inn, a person of curiosity, of a human sceleton impressed in stone, found lately by the rector of elston,' etc. stukeley then speaks of it as a great rarity, 'the like whereof has not been observed before in this island to my knowledge.' judging from a sort of litany written by robert, and handed down in the family, he was a strong advocate of temperance, which his son ever afterwards so strongly advocated:-- from a morning that doth shine, from a boy that drinketh wine, from a wife that talketh latine, good lord deliver me! "it is suspected that the third line may be accounted for by his wife, the mother of erasmus, having been a very learned lady. the eldest son of robert, christened robert waring, succeeded to the estate of elston, and died there at the age of ninety-two, a bachelor. he had a strong taste for poetry, like his youngest brother erasmus. robert also cultivated botany, and, when an oldish man, he published his 'principia botanica.' this book in ms. was beautifully written, and my father [dr. r.w. darwin] declared that he believed it was published because his old uncle could not endure that such fine caligraphy should be wasted. but this was hardly just, as the work contains many curious notes on biology--a subject wholly neglected in england in the last century. the public, moreover, appreciated the book, as the copy in my possession is the third edition." the second son, william alvey, inherited elston, and transmitted it to his granddaughter, the late mrs. darwin, of elston and creskeld. a third son, john, became rector of elston, the living being in the gift of the family. the fourth son, the youngest child, was erasmus darwin, the poet and philosopher. table of relationship. (an incomplete list of family members.) robert darwin of elston, - , had three sons, william alvey darwin, - , robert waring darwin, - , and erasmus darwin, - . william alvey darwin, - , had a son, william brown darwin, - , and a daughter, anne darwin. william brown darwin, - , had two daughters, charlotte darwin and sarah darwin. charlotte darwin married francis rhodes, now francis darwin of creskeld and elston. sarah darwin married edward noel. anne darwin married samuel fox and had a son, william darwin fox. erasmus darwin, - , married ( ) mary howard, - , with whom he had two sons, charles darwin, - , and robert waring darwin, and ( ) eliz. chandos-pole, - , with whom he had a daughter, violetta darwin, and a son, francis sacheverel darwin. robert waring darwin, - , married susannah wedgwood and had a son, charles robert darwin, b. february , , d. april , . violetta darwin married samuel tertius galton and had a son, francis galton. francis sacheverel darwin, - , had two sons, reginald darwin and edward darwin, "high elms." the table above shows charles darwin's descent from robert, and his relationship to some other members of the family, whose names occur in his correspondence. among these are included william darwin fox, one of his earliest correspondents, and francis galton, with whom he maintained a warm friendship for many years. here also occurs the name of francis sacheverel darwin, who inherited a love of natural history from erasmus, and transmitted it to his son edward darwin, author (under the name of "high elms") of a 'gamekeeper's manual' ( th edition ), which shows keen observation of the habits of various animals. it is always interesting to see how far a man's personal characteristics can be traced in his forefathers. charles darwin inherited the tall stature, but not the bulky figure of erasmus; but in his features there is no traceable resemblance to those of his grandfather. nor, it appears, had erasmus the love of exercise and of field-sports, so characteristic of charles darwin as a young man, though he had, like his grandson, an indomitable love of hard mental work. benevolence and sympathy with others, and a great personal charm of manner, were common to the two. charles darwin possessed, in the highest degree, that "vividness of imagination" of which he speaks as strongly characteristic of erasmus, and as leading "to his overpowering tendency to theorise and generalise." this tendency, in the case of charles darwin, was fully kept in check by the determination to test his theories to the utmost. erasmus had a strong love of all kinds of mechanism, for which charles darwin had no taste. neither had charles darwin the literary temperament which made erasmus a poet as well as a philosopher. he writes of erasmus ('life of erasmus darwin,' page .): "throughout his letters i have been struck with his indifference to fame, and the complete absence of all signs of any over-estimation of his own abilities, or of the success of his works." these, indeed, seem indications of traits most strikingly prominent in his own character. yet we get no evidence in erasmus of the intense modesty and simplicity that marked charles darwin's whole nature. but by the quick bursts of anger provoked in erasmus, at the sight of any inhumanity or injustice, we are again reminded of him. on the whole, however, it seems to me that we do not know enough of the essential personal tone of erasmus darwin's character to attempt more than a superficial comparison; and i am left with an impression that, in spite of many resemblances, the two men were of a different type. it has been shown that miss seward and mrs. schimmelpenninck have misrepresented erasmus darwin's character. (ibid., pages , , etc.) it is, however, extremely probable that the faults which they exaggerate were to some extent characteristic of the man; and this leads me to think that erasmus had a certain acerbity or severity of temper which did not exist in his grandson. the sons of erasmus darwin inherited in some degree his intellectual tastes, for charles darwin writes of them as follows: "his eldest son, charles (born september , ), was a young man of extraordinary promise, but died (may , ) before he was twenty-one years old, from the effects of a wound received whilst dissecting the brain of a child. he inherited from his father a strong taste for various branches of science, for writing verses, and for mechanics...he also inherited stammering. with the hope of curing him, his father sent him to france, when about eight years old ( -' ), with a private tutor, thinking that if he was not allowed to speak english for a time, the habit of stammering might be lost; and it is a curious fact, that in after years, when speaking french, he never stammered. at a very early age he collected specimens of all kinds. when sixteen years old he was sent for a year to [christ church] oxford, but he did not like the place, and thought (in the words of his father) that the 'vigour of his mind languished in the pursuit of classical elegance like hercules at the distaff, and sighed to be removed to the robuster exercise of the medical school of edinburgh.' he stayed three years at edinburgh, working hard at his medical studies, and attending 'with diligence all the sick poor of the parish of waterleith, and supplying them with the necessary medicines.' the aesculapian society awarded him its first gold medal for an experimental inquiry on pus and mucus. notices of him appeared in various journals; and all the writers agree about his uncommon energy and abilities. he seems like his father to have excited the warm affection of his friends. professor andrew duncan... spoke...about him with the warmest affection forty-seven years after his death when i was a young medical student at edinburgh... "about the character of his second son, erasmus (born ), i have little to say, for though he wrote poetry, he seems to have had none of the other tastes of his father. he had, however, his own peculiar tastes, viz., genealogy, the collecting of coins, and statistics. when a boy he counted all the houses in the city of lichfield, and found out the number of inhabitants in as many as he could; he thus made a census, and when a real one was first made, his estimate was found to be nearly accurate. his disposition was quiet and retiring. my father had a very high opinion of his abilities, and this was probably just, for he would not otherwise have been invited to travel with, and pay long visits to, men so distinguished in different ways as boulton the engineer, and day the moralist and novelist." his death by suicide, in , seems to have taken place in a state of incipient insanity. robert waring, the father of charles darwin, was born may , , and entered the medical profession like his father. he studied for a few months at leyden, and took his m.d. (i owe this information to the kindness of professor rauwenhoff, director of the archives at leyden. he quotes from the catalogue of doctors that "robertus waring darwin, anglo-britannus," defended (february , ) in the senate a dissertation on the coloured images seen after looking at a bright object, and "medicinae doctor creatus est a clar. paradijs." the archives of leyden university are so complete that professor rauwenhoff is able to tell me that my grandfather lived together with a certain "petrus crompton, anglus," in lodgings in the apothekersdijk. dr. darwin's leyden dissertation was published in the 'philosophical transactions,' and my father used to say that the work was in fact due to erasmus darwin.--f.d.) at that university on february , . "his father" (erasmus) "brought ('life of erasmus darwin,' page .) him to shrewsbury before he was twenty-one years old ( ), and left him pounds, saying, 'let me know when you want more, and i will send it you.' his uncle, the rector of elston, afterwards also sent him pounds, and this was the sole pecuniary aid which he ever received...erasmus tells mr. edgeworth that his son robert, after being settled in shrewsbury for only six months, 'already had between forty and fifty patients.' by the second year he was in considerable, and ever afterwards in very large, practice." robert waring darwin married (april , ) susannah, the daughter of his father's friend, josiah wedgwood, of etruria, then in her thirty-second year. we have a miniature of her, with a remarkably sweet and happy face, bearing some resemblance to the portrait by sir joshua reynolds of her father; a countenance expressive of the gentle and sympathetic nature which miss meteyard ascribes to her. ('a group of englishmen,' by miss meteyard, .) she died july , , thirty-two years before her husband, whose death occurred on november , . dr. darwin lived before his marriage for two or three years on st. john's hill; afterwards at the crescent, where his eldest daughter marianne was born; lastly at the "mount," in the part of shrewsbury known as frankwell, where the other children were born. this house was built by dr. darwin about , it is now in the possession of mr. spencer phillips, and has undergone but little alteration. it is a large, plain, square, red-brick house, of which the most attractive feature is the pretty green-house, opening out of the morning-room. the house is charmingly placed, on the top of a steep bank leading down to the severn. the terraced bank is traversed by a long walk, leading from end to end, still called "the doctor's walk." at one point in this walk grows a spanish chestnut, the branches of which bend back parallel to themselves in a curious manner, and this was charles darwin's favourite tree as a boy, where he and his sister catherine had each their special seat. the doctor took a great pleasure in his garden, planting it with ornamental trees and shrubs, and being especially successful in fruit-trees; and this love of plants was, i think, the only taste kindred to natural history which he possessed. of the "mount pigeons," which miss meteyard describes as illustrating dr. darwin's natural-history taste, i have not been able to hear from those most capable of knowing. miss meteyard's account of him is not quite accurate in a few points. for instance, it is incorrect to describe dr. darwin as having a philosophical mind; his was a mind especially given to detail, and not to generalising. again, those who knew him intimately describe him as eating remarkably little, so that he was not "a great feeder, eating a goose for his dinner, as easily as other men do a partridge." ('a group of englishmen,' page .) in the matter of dress he was conservative, and wore to the end of his life knee-breeches and drab gaiters, which, however, certainly did not, as miss meteyard says, button above the knee--a form of costume chiefly known to us in grenadiers of queen anne's day, and in modern wood-cutters and ploughboys. charles darwin had the strongest feeling of love and respect for his father's memory. his recollection of everything that was connected with him was peculiarly distinct, and he spoke of him frequently; generally prefacing an anecdote with some such phrase as, "my father, who was the wisest man i ever knew, etc..." it was astonishing how clearly he remembered his father's opinions, so that he was able to quote some maxims or hint of his in most cases of illness. as a rule, he put small faith in doctors, and thus his unlimited belief in dr. darwin's medical instinct and methods of treatment was all the more striking. his reverence for him was boundless and most touching. he would have wished to judge everything else in the world dispassionately, but anything his father had said was received with almost implicit faith. his daughter mrs. litchfield remembers him saying that he hoped none of his sons would ever believe anything because he said it, unless they were themselves convinced of its truth,--a feeling in striking contrast with his own manner of faith. a visit which charles darwin made to shrewsbury in left on the mind of his daughter who accompanied him a strong impression of his love for his old home. the then tenant of the mount showed them over the house, etc., and with mistaken hospitality remained with the party during the whole visit. as they were leaving, charles darwin said, with a pathetic look of regret, "if i could have been left alone in that green-house for five minutes, i know i should have been able to see my father in his wheel-chair as vividly as if he had been there before me." perhaps this incident shows what i think is the truth, that the memory of his father he loved the best, was that of him as an old man. mrs. litchfield has noted down a few words which illustrate well his feeling towards his father. she describes him as saying with the most tender respect, "i think my father was a little unjust to me when i was young, but afterwards i am thankful to think i became a prime favourite with him." she has a vivid recollection of the expression of happy reverie that accompanied these words, as if he were reviewing the whole relation, and the remembrance left a deep sense of peace and gratitude. what follows was added by charles darwin to his autobiographical 'recollections,' and was written about or . "i may here add a few pages about my father, who was in many ways a remarkable man. "he was about feet inches in height, with broad shoulders, and very corpulent, so that he was the largest man whom i ever saw. when he last weighed himself, he was stone, but afterwards increased much in weight. his chief mental characteristics were his powers of observation and his sympathy, neither of which have i ever seen exceeded or even equalled. his sympathy was not only with the distresses of others, but in a greater degree with the pleasures of all around him. this led him to be always scheming to give pleasure to others, and, though hating extravagance, to perform many generous actions. for instance, mr. b--, a small manufacturer in shrewsbury, came to him one day, and said he should be bankrupt unless he could at once borrow , pounds, but that he was unable to give any legal security. my father heard his reasons for believing that he could ultimately repay the money, and from [his] intuitive perception of character felt sure that he was to be trusted. so he advanced this sum, which was a very large one for him while young, and was after a time repaid. "i suppose that it was his sympathy which gave him unbounded power of winning confidence, and as a consequence made him highly successful as a physician. he began to practise before he was twenty-one years old, and his fees during the first year paid for the keep of two horses and a servant. on the following year his practice was large, and so continued for about sixty years, when he ceased to attend on any one. his great success as a doctor was the more remarkable, as he told me that he at first hated his profession so much that if he had been sure of the smallest pittance, or if his father had given him any choice, nothing should have induced him to follow it. to the end of his life, the thought of an operation almost sickened him, and he could scarcely endure to see a person bled--a horror which he has transmitted to me--and i remember the horror which i felt as a schoolboy in reading about pliny (i think) bleeding to death in a warm bath... "owing to my father's power of winning confidence, many patients, especially ladies, consulted him when suffering from any misery, as a sort of father-confessor. he told me that they always began by complaining in a vague manner about their health, and by practice he soon guessed what was really the matter. he then suggested that they had been suffering in their minds, and now they would pour out their troubles, and he heard nothing more about the body...owing to my father's skill in winning confidence he received many strange confessions of misery and guilt. he often remarked how many miserable wives he had known. in several instances husbands and wives had gone on pretty well together for between twenty and thirty years, and then hated each other bitterly; this he attributed to their having lost a common bond in their young children having grown up. "but the most remarkable power which my father possessed was that of reading the characters, and even the thoughts of those whom he saw even for a short time. we had many instances of the power, some of which seemed almost supernatural. it saved my father from ever making (with one exception, and the character of this man was soon discovered) an unworthy friend. a strange clergyman came to shrewsbury, and seemed to be a rich man; everybody called on him, and he was invited to many houses. my father called, and on his return home told my sisters on no account to invite him or his family to our house; for he felt sure that the man was not to be trusted. after a few months he suddenly bolted, being heavily in debt, and was found out to be little better than an habitual swindler. here is a case of trustfulness which not many men would have ventured on. an irish gentleman, a complete stranger, called on my father one day, and said that he had lost his purse, and that it would be a serious inconvenience to him to wait in shrewsbury until he could receive a remittance from ireland. he then asked my father to lend him pounds, which was immediately done, as my father felt certain that the story was a true one. as soon as a letter could arrive from ireland, one came with the most profuse thanks, and enclosing, as he said, a pound bank of england note, but no note was enclosed. i asked my father whether this did not stagger him, but he answered 'not in the least.' on the next day another letter came with many apologies for having forgotten (like a true irishman) to put the note into his letter of the day before...(a gentleman) brought his nephew, who was insane but quite gentle, to my father; and the young man's insanity led him to accuse himself of all the crimes under heaven. when my father afterwards talked over the matter with the uncle, he said, 'i am sure that your nephew is really guilty of...a heinous crime.' whereupon [the gentleman] said, 'good god, dr. darwin, who told you; we thought that no human being knew the fact except ourselves!' my father told me the story many years after the event, and i asked him how he distinguished the true from the false self-accusations; and it was very characteristic of my father that he said he could not explain how it was. "the following story shows what good guesses my father could make. lord shelburne, afterwards the first marquis of lansdowne, was famous (as macaulay somewhere remarks) for his knowledge of the affairs of europe, on which he greatly prided himself. he consulted my father medically, and afterwards harangued him on the state of holland. my father had studied medicine at leyden, and one day [while there] went a long walk into the country with a friend who took him to the house of a clergyman (we will say the rev. mr. a--, for i have forgotten his name), who had married an englishwoman. my father was very hungry, and there was little for luncheon except cheese, which he could never eat. the old lady was surprised and grieved at this, and assured my father that it was an excellent cheese, and had been sent her from bowood, the seat of lord shelburne. my father wondered why a cheese should be sent her from bowood, but thought nothing more about it until it flashed across his mind many years afterwards, whilst lord shelburne was talking about holland. so he answered, 'i should think from what i saw of the rev. mr. a--, that he was a very able man, and well acquainted with the state of holland.' my father saw that the earl, who immediately changed the conversation was much startled. on the next morning my father received a note from the earl, saying that he had delayed starting on his journey, and wished particularly to see my father. when he called, the earl said, 'dr. darwin, it is of the utmost importance to me and to the rev. mr. a-- to learn how you have discovered that he is the source of my information about holland.' so my father had to explain the state of the case, and he supposed that lord shelburne was much struck with his diplomatic skill in guessing, for during many years afterwards he received many kind messages from him through various friends. i think that he must have told the story to his children; for sir c. lyell asked me many years ago why the marquis of lansdowne (the son or grand-son of the first marquis) felt so much interest about me, whom he had never seen, and my family. when forty new members (the forty thieves as they were then called) were added to the athenaeum club, there was much canvassing to be one of them; and without my having asked any one, lord lansdowne proposed me and got me elected. if i am right in my supposition, it was a queer concatenation of events that my father not eating cheese half-a-century before in holland led to my election as a member of the athenaeum. "the sharpness of his observation led him to predict with remarkable skill the course of any illness, and he suggested endless small details of relief. i was told that a young doctor in shrewsbury, who disliked my father, used to say that he was wholly unscientific, but owned that his power of predicting the end of an illness was unparalleled. formerly when he thought that i should be a doctor, he talked much to me about his patients. in the old days the practice of bleeding largely was universal, but my father maintained that far more evil was thus caused than good done; and he advised me if ever i was myself ill not to allow any doctor to take more than an extremely small quantity of blood. long before typhoid fever was recognised as distinct, my father told me that two utterly distinct kinds of illness were confounded under the name of typhus fever. he was vehement against drinking, and was convinced of both the direct and inherited evil effects of alcohol when habitually taken even in moderate quantity in a very large majority of cases. but he admitted and advanced instances of certain persons who could drink largely during their whole lives without apparently suffering any evil effects, and he believed that he could often beforehand tell who would thus not suffer. he himself never drank a drop of any alcoholic fluid. this remark reminds me of a case showing how a witness under the most favourable circumstances may be utterly mistaken. a gentleman-farmer was strongly urged by my father not to drink, and was encouraged by being told that he himself never touched any spirituous liquor. whereupon the gentleman said, 'come, come, doctor, this won't do--though it is very kind of you to say so for my sake--for i know that you take a very large glass of hot gin and water every evening after your dinner.' (this belief still survives, and was mentioned to my brother in by an old inhabitant of shrewsbury.--f.d.) so my father asked him how he knew this. the man answered, 'my cook was your kitchen-maid for two or three years, and she saw the butler every day prepare and take to you the gin and water.' the explanation was that my father had the odd habit of drinking hot water in a very tall and large glass after his dinner; and the butler used first to put some cold water in the glass, which the girl mistook for gin, and then filled it up with boiling water from the kitchen boiler. "my father used to tell me many little things which he had found useful in his medical practice. thus ladies often cried much while telling him their troubles, and thus caused much loss of his precious time. he soon found that begging them to command and restrain themselves, always made them weep the more, so that afterwards he always encouraged them to go on crying, saying that this would relieve them more than anything else, and with the invariable result that they soon ceased to cry, and he could hear what they had to say and give his advice. when patients who were very ill craved for some strange and unnatural food, my father asked them what had put such an idea into their heads; if they answered that they did not know, he would allow them to try the food, and often with success, as he trusted to their having a kind of instinctive desire; but if they answered that they had heard that the food in question had done good to some one else, he firmly refused his assent. "he gave one day an odd little specimen of human nature. when a very young man he was called in to consult with the family physician in the case of a gentleman of much distinction in shropshire. the old doctor told the wife that the illness was of such a nature that it must end fatally. my father took a different view and maintained that the gentleman would recover: he was proved quite wrong in all respects (i think by autopsy) and he owned his error. he was then convinced that he should never again be consulted by this family; but after a few months the widow sent for him, having dismissed the old family doctor. my father was so much surprised at this, that he asked a friend of the widow to find out why he was again consulted. the widow answered her friend, that 'she would never again see the odious old doctor who said from the first that her husband would die, while dr. darwin always maintained that he would recover!' in another case my father told a lady that her husband would certainly die. some months afterwards he saw the widow, who was a very sensible woman, and she said, 'you are a very young man, and allow me to advise you always to give, as long as you possibly can, hope to any near relative nursing a patient. you made me despair, and from that moment i lost strength.' my father said that he had often since seen the paramount importance, for the sake of the patient, of keeping up the hope and with it the strength of the nurse in charge. this he sometimes found difficult to do compatibly with truth. one old gentleman, however, caused him no such perplexity. he was sent for by mr.p--, who said, 'from all that i have seen and heard of you i believe that you are the sort of man who will speak the truth, and if i ask, you will tell me when i am dying. now i much desire that you should attend me, if you will promise, whatever i may say, always to declare that i am not going to die.' my father acquiesced on the understanding that his words should in fact have no meaning. "my father possessed an extraordinary memory, especially for dates, so that he knew, when he was very old, the day of the birth, marriage, and death of a multitude of persons in shropshire; and he once told me that this power annoyed him; for if he once heard a date, he could not forget it; and thus the deaths of many friends were often recalled to his mind. owing to his strong memory he knew an extraordinary number of curious stories, which he liked to tell, as he was a great talker. he was generally in high spirits, and laughed and joked with every one--often with his servants--with the utmost freedom; yet he had the art of making every one obey him to the letter. many persons were much afraid of him. i remember my father telling us one day, with a laugh, that several persons had asked him whether miss --, a grand old lady in shropshire, had called on him, so that at last he enquired why they asked him; and he was told that miss --, whom my father had somehow mortally offended, was telling everybody that she would call and tell 'that fat old doctor very plainly what she thought of him.' she had already called, but her courage had failed, and no one could have been more courteous and friendly. as a boy, i went to stay at the house of --, whose wife was insane; and the poor creature, as soon as she saw me, was in the most abject state of terror that i ever saw, weeping bitterly and asking me over and over again, 'is your father coming?' but was soon pacified. on my return home, i asked my father why she was so frightened, and he answered he was very glad to hear it, as he had frightened her on purpose, feeling sure that she would be kept in safety and much happier without any restraint, if her husband could influence her, whenever she became at all violent, by proposing to send for dr. darwin; and these words succeeded perfectly during the rest of her long life. "my father was very sensitive, so that many small events annoyed him or pained him much. i once asked him, when he was old and could not walk, why he did not drive out for exercise; and he answered, 'every road out of shrewsbury is associated in my mind with some painful event.' yet he was generally in high spirits. he was easily made very angry, but his kindness was unbounded. he was widely and deeply loved. "he was a cautious and good man of business, so that he hardly ever lost money by an investment, and left to his children a very large property. i remember a story showing how easily utterly false beliefs originate and spread. mr. e --, a squire of one of the oldest families in shropshire, and head partner in a bank, committed suicide. my father was sent for as a matter of form, and found him dead. i may mention, by the way, to show how matters were managed in those old days, that because mr. e -- was a rather great man, and universally respected, no inquest was held over his body. my father, in returning home, thought it proper to call at the bank (where he had an account) to tell the managing partners of the event, as it was not improbable that it would cause a run on the bank. well, the story was spread far and wide, that my father went into the bank, drew out all his money, left the bank, came back again, and said, 'i may just tell you that mr. e -- has killed himself,' and then departed. it seems that it was then a common belief that money withdrawn from a bank was not safe until the person had passed out through the door of the bank. my father did not hear this story till some little time afterwards, when the managing partner said that he had departed from his invariable rule of never allowing any one to see the account of another man, by having shown the ledger with my father's account to several persons, as this proved that my father had not drawn out a penny on that day. it would have been dishonourable in my father to have used his professional knowledge for his private advantage. nevertheless, the supposed act was greatly admired by some persons; and many years afterwards, a gentleman remarked, 'ah, doctor, what a splendid man of business you were in so cleverly getting all your money safe out of that bank!' "my father's mind was not scientific, and he did not try to generalize his knowledge under general laws; yet he formed a theory for almost everything which occurred. i do not think i gained much from him intellectually; but his example ought to have been of much moral service to all his children. one of his golden rules (a hard one to follow) was, 'never become the friend of any one whom you cannot respect.'" dr. darwin had six children (of these mrs. wedgwood is now the sole survivor.): marianne, married dr. henry parker; caroline, married josiah wedgwood; erasmus alvey; susan, died unmarried; charles robert; catherine, married rev. charles langton. the elder son, erasmus, was born in , and died unmarried at the age of seventy-seven. he, like his brother, was educated at shrewsbury school and at christ's college, cambridge. he studied medicine at edinburgh and in london, and took the degree of bachelor of medicine at cambridge. he never made any pretence of practising as a doctor, and, after leaving cambridge, lived a quiet life in london. there was something pathetic in charles darwin's affection for his brother erasmus, as if he always recollected his solitary life, and the touching patience and sweetness of his nature. he often spoke of him as "poor old ras," or "poor dear old philos"--i imagine philos (philosopher) was a relic of the days when they worked at chemistry in the tool-house at shrewsbury--a time of which he always preserved a pleasant memory. erasmus being rather more than four years older than charles darwin, they were not long together at cambridge, but previously at edinburgh they lived in the same lodgings, and after the voyage they lived for a time together in erasmus' house in great marlborough street. at this time also he often speaks with much affection of erasmus in his letters to fox, using words such as "my dear good old brother." in later years erasmus darwin came to down occasionally, or joined his brother's family in a summer holiday. but gradually it came about that he could not, through ill health, make up his mind to leave london, and then they only saw each other when charles darwin went for a week at a time to his brother's house in queen anne street. the following note on his brother's character was written by charles darwin at about the same time that the sketch of his father was added to the 'recollections.':-- "my brother erasmus possessed a remarkably clear mind with extensive and diversified tastes and knowledge in literature, art, and even in science. for a short time he collected and dried plants, and during a somewhat longer time experimented in chemistry. he was extremely agreeable, and his wit often reminded me of that in the letters and works of charles lamb. he was very kind-hearted...his health from his boyhood had been weak, and as a consequence he failed in energy. his spirits were not high, sometimes low, more especially during early and middle manhood. he read much, even whilst a boy, and at school encouraged me to read, lending me books. our minds and tastes were, however, so different, that i do not think i owe much to him intellectually. i am inclined to agree with francis galton in believing that education and environment produce only a small effect on the mind of any one, and that most of our qualities are innate." erasmus darwin's name, though not known to the general public, may be remembered from the sketch of his character in carlyle's 'reminiscences,' which i here reproduce in part:-- "erasmus darwin, a most diverse kind of mortal, came to seek us out very soon ('had heard of carlyle in germany, etc.') and continues ever since to be a quiet house-friend, honestly attached; though his visits latterly have been rarer and rarer, health so poor, i so occupied, etc., etc. he had something of original and sarcastically ingenious in him, one of the sincerest, naturally truest, and most modest of men; elder brother of charles darwin (the famed darwin on species of these days) to whom i rather prefer him for intellect, had not his health quite doomed him to silence and patient idleness...my dear one had a great favour for this honest darwin always; many a road, to shops and the like, he drove her in his cab (darwingium cabbum comparable to georgium sidus) in those early days when even the charge of omnibuses was a consideration, and his sparse utterances, sardonic often, were a great amusement to her. 'a perfect gentleman,' she at once discerned him to be, and of sound worth and kindliness in the most unaffected form." (carlyle's 'reminiscences,' vol. ii. page .) charles darwin did not appreciate this sketch of his brother; he thought carlyle had missed the essence of his most lovable nature. i am tempted by the wish of illustrating further the character of one so sincerely beloved by all charles darwin's children, to reproduce a letter to the "spectator" (september , ) by his cousin miss julia wedgwood. "a portrait from mr. carlyle's portfolio not regretted by any who loved the original, surely confers sufficient distinction to warrant a few words of notice, when the character it depicts is withdrawn from mortal gaze. erasmus, the only brother of charles darwin, and the faithful and affectionate old friend of both the carlyles, has left a circle of mourners who need no tribute from illustrious pen to embalm the memory so dear to their hearts; but a wider circle must have felt some interest excited by that tribute, and may receive with a certain attention the record of a unique and indelible impression, even though it be made only on the hearts of those who cannot bequeath it, and with whom, therefore, it must speedily pass away. they remember it with the same distinctness as they remember a creation of genius; it has in like manner enriched and sweetened life, formed a common meeting-point for those who had no other; and, in its strong fragrance of individuality, enforced that respect for the idiosyncracies of human character without which moral judgment is always hard and shallow, and often unjust. carlyle was one to find a peculiar enjoyment in the combination of liveliness and repose which gave his friend's society an influence at once stimulating and soothing, and the warmth of his appreciation was not made known first in its posthumous expression; his letters of anxiety nearly thirty years ago, when the frail life which has been prolonged to old age was threatened by serious illness, are still fresh in my memory. the friendship was equally warm with both husband and wife. i remember well a pathetic little remonstrance from her elicited by an avowal from erasmus darwin, that he preferred cats to dogs, which she felt a slur on her little 'nero;' and the tones in which she said, 'oh, but you are fond of dogs! you are too kind not to be,' spoke of a long vista of small, gracious kindnesses, remembered with a tender gratitude. he was intimate also with a person whose friends, like those of mr. carlyle, have not always had cause to congratulate themselves on their place in her gallery,--harriet martineau. i have heard him more than once call her a faithful friend, and it always seemed to me a curious tribute to something in the friendship that he alone supplied; but if she had written of him at all, i believe the mention, in its heartiness of appreciation, would have afforded a rare and curious meeting-point with the other 'reminiscences,' so like and yet so unlike. it is not possible to transfer the impression of a character; we can only suggest it by means of some resemblance; and it is a singular illustration of that irony which checks or directs our sympathies, that in trying to give some notion of the man whom, among those who were not his kindred, carlyle appears to have most loved, i can say nothing more descriptive than that he seems to me to have had something in common with the man whom carlyle least appreciated. the society of erasmus darwin had, to my mind, much the same charm as the writings of charles lamb. there was the same kind of playfulness, the same lightness of touch, the same tenderness, perhaps the same limitations. on another side of his nature, i have often been reminded of him by the quaint, delicate humour, the superficial intolerance, the deep springs of pity, the peculiar mixture of something pathetic with a sort of gay scorn, entirely remote from contempt, which distinguish the ellesmere of sir arthur helps' earlier dialogues. perhaps we recall such natures most distinctly, when such a resemblance is all that is left of them. the character is not merged in the creation; and what we lose in the power to communicate our impression, we seem to gain in its vividness. erasmus darwin has passed away in old age, yet his memory retains something of a youthful fragrance; his influence gave much happiness, of a kind usually associated with youth, to many lives besides the illustrious one whose records justify, though certainly they do not inspire, the wish to place this fading chaplet on his grave." the foregoing pages give, in a fragmentary manner, as much perhaps as need be told of the family from which charles darwin came, and may serve as an introduction to the autobiographical chapter which follows. chapter .ii. -- autobiography. [my father's autobiographical recollections, given in the present chapter, were written for his children,--and written without any thought that they would ever be published. to many this may seem an impossibility; but those who knew my father will understand how it was not only possible, but natural. the autobiography bears the heading, 'recollections of the development of my mind and character,' and end with the following note:-- "aug. , . this sketch of my life was begun about may th at hopedene (mr. hensleigh wedgwood's house in surrey.), and since then i have written for nearly an hour on most afternoons." it will easily be understood that, in a narrative of a personal and intimate kind written for his wife and children, passages should occur which must here be omitted; and i have not thought it necessary to indicate where such omissions are made. it has been found necessary to make a few corrections of obvious verbal slips, but the number of such alterations has been kept down to the minimum.--f.d.] a german editor having written to me for an account of the development of my mind and character with some sketch of my autobiography, i have thought that the attempt would amuse me, and might possibly interest my children or their children. i know that it would have interested me greatly to have read even so short and dull a sketch of the mind of my grandfather, written by himself, and what he thought and did, and how he worked. i have attempted to write the following account of myself, as if i were a dead man in another world looking back at my own life. nor have i found this difficult, for life is nearly over with me. i have taken no pains about my style of writing. i was born at shrewsbury on february th, , and my earliest recollection goes back only to when i was a few months over four years old, when we went to near abergele for sea-bathing, and i recollect some events and places there with some little distinctness. my mother died in july , when i was a little over eight years old, and it is odd that i can remember hardly anything about her except her death-bed, her black velvet gown, and her curiously constructed work-table. in the spring of this same year i was sent to a day-school in shrewsbury, where i stayed a year. i have been told that i was much slower in learning than my younger sister catherine, and i believe that i was in many ways a naughty boy. by the time i went to this day-school (kept by rev. g. case, minister of the unitarian chapel in the high street. mrs. darwin was a unitarian and attended mr. case's chapel, and my father as a little boy went there with his elder sisters. but both he and his brother were christened and intended to belong to the church of england; and after his early boyhood he seems usually to have gone to church and not to mr. case's. it appears ("st. james' gazette", dec. , ) that a mural tablet has been erected to his memory in the chapel, which is now known as the 'free christian church.') my taste for natural history, and more especially for collecting, was well developed. i tried to make out the names of plants (rev. w.a. leighton, who was a schoolfellow of my father's at mr. case's school, remembers his bringing a flower to school and saying that his mother had taught him how by looking at the inside of the blossom the name of the plant could be discovered. mr. leighton goes on, "this greatly roused my attention and curiosity, and i enquired of him repeatedly how this could be done?"--but his lesson was naturally enough not transmissible.--f.d.), and collected all sorts of things, shells, seals, franks, coins, and minerals. the passion for collecting which leads a man to be a systematic naturalist, a virtuoso, or a miser, was very strong in me, and was clearly innate, as none of my sisters or brother ever had this taste. one little event during this year has fixed itself very firmly in my mind, and i hope that it has done so from my conscience having been afterwards sorely troubled by it; it is curious as showing that apparently i was interested at this early age in the variability of plants! i told another little boy (i believe it was leighton, who afterwards became a well-known lichenologist and botanist), that i could produce variously coloured polyanthuses and primroses by watering them with certain coloured fluids, which was of course a monstrous fable, and had never been tried by me. i may here also confess that as a little boy i was much given to inventing deliberate falsehoods, and this was always done for the sake of causing excitement. for instance, i once gathered much valuable fruit from my father's trees and hid it in the shrubbery, and then ran in breathless haste to spread the news that i had discovered a hoard of stolen fruit. i must have been a very simple little fellow when i first went to the school. a boy of the name of garnett took me into a cake shop one day, and bought some cakes for which he did not pay, as the shopman trusted him. when we came out i asked him why he did not pay for them, and he instantly answered, "why, do you not know that my uncle left a great sum of money to the town on condition that every tradesman should give whatever was wanted without payment to any one who wore his old hat and moved [it] in a particular manner?" and he then showed me how it was moved. he then went into another shop where he was trusted, and asked for some small article, moving his hat in the proper manner, and of course obtained it without payment. when we came out he said, "now if you like to go by yourself into that cake-shop (how well i remember its exact position) i will lend you my hat, and you can get whatever you like if you move the hat on your head properly." i gladly accepted the generous offer, and went in and asked for some cakes, moved the old hat and was walking out of the shop, when the shopman made a rush at me, so i dropped the cakes and ran for dear life, and was astonished by being greeted with shouts of laughter by my false friend garnett. i can say in my own favour that i was as a boy humane, but i owed this entirely to the instruction and example of my sisters. i doubt indeed whether humanity is a natural or innate quality. i was very fond of collecting eggs, but i never took more than a single egg out of a bird's nest, except on one single occasion, when i took all, not for their value, but from a sort of bravado. i had a strong taste for angling, and would sit for any number of hours on the bank of a river or pond watching the float; when at maer (the house of his uncle, josiah wedgwood.) i was told that i could kill the worms with salt and water, and from that day i never spitted a living worm, though at the expense probably of some loss of success. once as a very little boy whilst at the day school, or before that time, i acted cruelly, for i beat a puppy, i believe, simply from enjoying the sense of power; but the beating could not have been severe, for the puppy did not howl, of which i feel sure, as the spot was near the house. this act lay heavily on my conscience, as is shown by my remembering the exact spot where the crime was committed. it probably lay all the heavier from my love of dogs being then, and for a long time afterwards, a passion. dogs seemed to know this, for i was an adept in robbing their love from their masters. i remember clearly only one other incident during this year whilst at mr. case's daily school,--namely, the burial of a dragoon soldier; and it is surprising how clearly i can still see the horse with the man's empty boots and carbine suspended to the saddle, and the firing over the grave. this scene deeply stirred whatever poetic fancy there was in me. in the summer of i went to dr. butler's great school in shrewsbury, and remained there for seven years still midsummer , when i was sixteen years old. i boarded at this school, so that i had the great advantage of living the life of a true schoolboy; but as the distance was hardly more than a mile to my home, i very often ran there in the longer intervals between the callings over and before locking up at night. this, i think, was in many ways advantageous to me by keeping up home affections and interests. i remember in the early part of my school life that i often had to run very quickly to be in time, and from being a fleet runner was generally successful; but when in doubt i prayed earnestly to god to help me, and i well remember that i attributed my success to the prayers and not to my quick running, and marvelled how generally i was aided. i have heard my father and elder sister say that i had, as a very young boy, a strong taste for long solitary walks; but what i thought about i know not. i often became quite absorbed, and once, whilst returning to school on the summit of the old fortifications round shrewsbury, which had been converted into a public foot-path with no parapet on one side, i walked off and fell to the ground, but the height was only seven or eight feet. nevertheless the number of thoughts which passed through my mind during this very short, but sudden and wholly unexpected fall, was astonishing, and seem hardly compatible with what physiologists have, i believe, proved about each thought requiring quite an appreciable amount of time. nothing could have been worse for the development of my mind than dr. butler's school, as it was strictly classical, nothing else being taught, except a little ancient geography and history. the school as a means of education to me was simply a blank. during my whole life i have been singularly incapable of mastering any language. especial attention was paid to verse-making, and this i could never do well. i had many friends, and got together a good collection of old verses, which by patching together, sometimes aided by other boys, i could work into any subject. much attention was paid to learning by heart the lessons of the previous day; this i could effect with great facility, learning forty or fifty lines of virgil or homer, whilst i was in morning chapel; but this exercise was utterly useless, for every verse was forgotten in forty-eight hours. i was not idle, and with the exception of versification, generally worked conscientiously at my classics, not using cribs. the sole pleasure i ever received from such studies, was from some of the odes of horace, which i admired greatly. when i left the school i was for my age neither high nor low in it; and i believe that i was considered by all my masters and by my father as a very ordinary boy, rather below the common standard in intellect. to my deep mortification my father once said to me, "you care for nothing but shooting, dogs, and rat-catching, and you will be a disgrace to yourself and all your family." but my father, who was the kindest man i ever knew and whose memory i love with all my heart, must have been angry and somewhat unjust when he used such words. looking back as well as i can at my character during my school life, the only qualities which at this period promised well for the future, were, that i had strong and diversified tastes, much zeal for whatever interested me, and a keen pleasure in understanding any complex subject or thing. i was taught euclid by a private tutor, and i distinctly remember the intense satisfaction which the clear geometrical proofs gave me. i remember, with equal distinctness, the delight which my uncle gave me (the father of francis galton) by explaining the principle of the vernier of a barometer with respect to diversified tastes, independently of science, i was fond of reading various books, and i used to sit for hours reading the historical plays of shakespeare, generally in an old window in the thick walls of the school. i read also other poetry, such as thomson's 'seasons,' and the recently published poems of byron and scott. i mention this because later in life i wholly lost, to my great regret, all pleasure from poetry of any kind, including shakespeare. in connection with pleasure from poetry, i may add that in a vivid delight in scenery was first awakened in my mind, during a riding tour on the borders of wales, and this has lasted longer than any other aesthetic pleasure. early in my school days a boy had a copy of the 'wonders of the world,' which i often read, and disputed with other boys about the veracity of some of the statements; and i believe that this book first gave me a wish to travel in remote countries, which was ultimately fulfilled by the voyage of the "beagle". in the latter part of my school life i became passionately fond of shooting; i do not believe that any one could have shown more zeal for the most holy cause than i did for shooting birds. how well i remember killing my first snipe, and my excitement was so great that i had much difficulty in reloading my gun from the trembling of my hands. this taste long continued, and i became a very good shot. when at cambridge i used to practise throwing up my gun to my shoulder before a looking-glass to see that i threw it up straight. another and better plan was to get a friend to wave about a lighted candle, and then to fire at it with a cap on the nipple, and if the aim was accurate the little puff of air would blow out the candle. the explosion of the cap caused a sharp crack, and i was told that the tutor of the college remarked, "what an extraordinary thing it is, mr. darwin seems to spend hours in cracking a horse-whip in his room, for i often hear the crack when i pass under his windows." i had many friends amongst the schoolboys, whom i loved dearly, and i think that my disposition was then very affectionate. with respect to science, i continued collecting minerals with much zeal, but quite unscientifically--all that i cared about was a new-named mineral, and i hardly attempted to classify them. i must have observed insects with some little care, for when ten years old ( ) i went for three weeks to plas edwards on the sea-coast in wales, i was very much interested and surprised at seeing a large black and scarlet hemipterous insect, many moths (zygaena), and a cicindela which are not found in shropshire. i almost made up my mind to begin collecting all the insects which i could find dead, for on consulting my sister i concluded that it was not right to kill insects for the sake of making a collection. from reading white's 'selborne,' i took much pleasure in watching the habits of birds, and even made notes on the subject. in my simplicity i remember wondering why every gentleman did not become an ornithologist. towards the close of my school life, my brother worked hard at chemistry, and made a fair laboratory with proper apparatus in the tool-house in the garden, and i was allowed to aid him as a servant in most of his experiments. he made all the gases and many compounds, and i read with great care several books on chemistry, such as henry and parkes' 'chemical catechism.' the subject interested me greatly, and we often used to go on working till rather late at night. this was the best part of my education at school, for it showed me practically the meaning of experimental science. the fact that we worked at chemistry somehow got known at school, and as it was an unprecedented fact, i was nicknamed "gas." i was also once publicly rebuked by the head-master, dr. butler, for thus wasting my time on such useless subjects; and he called me very unjustly a "poco curante," and as i did not understand what he meant, it seemed to me a fearful reproach. as i was doing no good at school, my father wisely took me away at a rather earlier age than usual, and sent me (oct. ) to edinburgh university with my brother, where i stayed for two years or sessions. my brother was completing his medical studies, though i do not believe he ever really intended to practise, and i was sent there to commence them. but soon after this period i became convinced from various small circumstances that my father would leave me property enough to subsist on with some comfort, though i never imagined that i should be so rich a man as i am; but my belief was sufficient to check any strenuous efforts to learn medicine. the instruction at edinburgh was altogether by lectures, and these were intolerably dull, with the exception of those on chemistry by hope; but to my mind there are no advantages and many disadvantages in lectures compared with reading. dr. duncan's lectures on materia medica at o'clock on a winter's morning are something fearful to remember. dr.-- made his lectures on human anatomy as dull as he was himself, and the subject disgusted me. it has proved one of the greatest evils in my life that i was not urged to practise dissection, for i should soon have got over my disgust; and the practice would have been invaluable for all my future work. this has been an irremediable evil, as well as my incapacity to draw. i also attended regularly the clinical wards in the hospital. some of the cases distressed me a good deal, and i still have vivid pictures before me of some of them; but i was not so foolish as to allow this to lessen my attendance. i cannot understand why this part of my medical course did not interest me in a greater degree; for during the summer before coming to edinburgh i began attending some of the poor people, chiefly children and women in shrewsbury: i wrote down as full an account as i could of the case with all the symptoms, and read them aloud to my father, who suggested further inquiries and advised me what medicines to give, which i made up myself. at one time i had at least a dozen patients, and i felt a keen interest in the work. my father, who was by far the best judge of character whom i ever knew, declared that i should make a successful physician,--meaning by this one who would get many patients. he maintained that the chief element of success was exciting confidence; but what he saw in me which convinced him that i should create confidence i know not. i also attended on two occasions the operating theatre in the hospital at edinburgh, and saw two very bad operations, one on a child, but i rushed away before they were completed. nor did i ever attend again, for hardly any inducement would have been strong enough to make me do so; this being long before the blessed days of chloroform. the two cases fairly haunted me for many a long year. my brother stayed only one year at the university, so that during the second year i was left to my own resources; and this was an advantage, for i became well acquainted with several young men fond of natural science. one of these was ainsworth, who afterwards published his travels in assyria; he was a wernerian geologist, and knew a little about many subjects. dr. coldstream was a very different young man, prim, formal, highly religious, and most kind-hearted; he afterwards published some good zoological articles. a third young man was hardie, who would, i think, have made a good botanist, but died early in india. lastly, dr. grant, my senior by several years, but how i became acquainted with him i cannot remember; he published some first-rate zoological papers, but after coming to london as professor in university college, he did nothing more in science, a fact which has always been inexplicable to me. i knew him well; he was dry and formal in manner, with much enthusiasm beneath this outer crust. he one day, when we were walking together, burst forth in high admiration of lamarck and his views on evolution. i listened in silent astonishment, and as far as i can judge without any effect on my mind. i had previously read the 'zoonomia' of my grandfather, in which similar views are maintained, but without producing any effect on me. nevertheless it is probable that the hearing rather early in life such views maintained and praised may have favoured my upholding them under a different form in my 'origin of species.' at this time i admired greatly the 'zoonomia;' but on reading it a second time after an interval of ten or fifteen years, i was much disappointed; the proportion of speculation being so large to the facts given. drs. grant and coldstream attended much to marine zoology, and i often accompanied the former to collect animals in the tidal pools, which i dissected as well as i could. i also became friends with some of the newhaven fishermen, and sometimes accompanied them when they trawled for oysters, and thus got many specimens. but from not having had any regular practice in dissection, and from possessing only a wretched microscope, my attempts were very poor. nevertheless i made one interesting little discovery, and read, about the beginning of the year , a short paper on the subject before the plinian society. this was that the so-called ova of flustra had the power of independent movement by means of cilia, and were in fact larvae. in another short paper i showed that the little globular bodies which had been supposed to be the young state of fucus loreus were the egg-cases of the wormlike pontobdella muricata. the plinian society was encouraged and, i believe, founded by professor jameson: it consisted of students and met in an underground room in the university for the sake of reading papers on natural science and discussing them. i used regularly to attend, and the meetings had a good effect on me in stimulating my zeal and giving me new congenial acquaintances. one evening a poor young man got up, and after stammering for a prodigious length of time, blushing crimson, he at last slowly got out the words, "mr. president, i have forgotten what i was going to say." the poor fellow looked quite overwhelmed, and all the members were so surprised that no one could think of a word to say to cover his confusion. the papers which were read to our little society were not printed, so that i had not the satisfaction of seeing my paper in print; but i believe dr. grant noticed my small discovery in his excellent memoir on flustra. i was also a member of the royal medical society, and attended pretty regularly; but as the subjects were exclusively medical, i did not much care about them. much rubbish was talked there, but there were some good speakers, of whom the best was the present sir j. kay-shuttleworth. dr. grant took me occasionally to the meetings of the wernerian society, where various papers on natural history were read, discussed, and afterwards published in the 'transactions.' i heard audubon deliver there some interesting discourses on the habits of n. american birds, sneering somewhat unjustly at waterton. by the way, a negro lived in edinburgh, who had travelled with waterton, and gained his livelihood by stuffing birds, which he did excellently: he gave me lessons for payment, and i used often to sit with him, for he was a very pleasant and intelligent man. mr. leonard horner also took me once to a meeting of the royal society of edinburgh, where i saw sir walter scott in the chair as president, and he apologised to the meeting as not feeling fitted for such a position. i looked at him and at the whole scene with some awe and reverence, and i think it was owing to this visit during my youth, and to my having attended the royal medical society, that i felt the honour of being elected a few years ago an honorary member of both these societies, more than any other similar honour. if i had been told at that time that i should one day have been thus honoured, i declare that i should have thought it as ridiculous and improbable, as if i had been told that i should be elected king of england. during my second year at edinburgh i attended --'s lectures on geology and zoology, but they were incredibly dull. the sole effect they produced on me was the determination never as long as i lived to read a book on geology, or in any way to study the science. yet i feel sure that i was prepared for a philosophical treatment of the subject; for an old mr. cotton in shropshire, who knew a good deal about rocks, had pointed out to me two or three years previously a well-known large erratic boulder in the town of shrewsbury, called the "bell-stone"; he told me that there was no rock of the same kind nearer than cumberland or scotland, and he solemnly assured me that the world would come to an end before any one would be able to explain how this stone came where it now lay. this produced a deep impression on me, and i meditated over this wonderful stone. so that i felt the keenest delight when i first read of the action of icebergs in transporting boulders, and i gloried in the progress of geology. equally striking is the fact that i, though now only sixty-seven years old, heard the professor, in a field lecture at salisbury craigs, discoursing on a trapdyke, with amygdaloidal margins and the strata indurated on each side, with volcanic rocks all around us, say that it was a fissure filled with sediment from above, adding with a sneer that there were men who maintained that it had been injected from beneath in a molten condition. when i think of this lecture, i do not wonder that i determined never to attend to geology. from attending --'s lectures, i became acquainted with the curator of the museum, mr. macgillivray, who afterwards published a large and excellent book on the birds of scotland. i had much interesting natural-history talk with him, and he was very kind to me. he gave me some rare shells, for i at that time collected marine mollusca, but with no great zeal. my summer vacations during these two years were wholly given up to amusements, though i always had some book in hand, which i read with interest. during the summer of i took a long walking tour with two friends with knapsacks on our backs through north wales. we walked thirty miles most days, including one day the ascent of snowdon. i also went with my sister a riding tour in north wales, a servant with saddle-bags carrying our clothes. the autumns were devoted to shooting chiefly at mr. owen's, at woodhouse, and at my uncle jos's (josiah wedgwood, the son of the founder of the etruria works.) at maer. my zeal was so great that i used to place my shooting-boots open by my bed-side when i went to bed, so as not to lose half a minute in putting them on in the morning; and on one occasion i reached a distant part of the maer estate, on the th of august for black-game shooting, before i could see: i then toiled on with the game-keeper the whole day through thick heath and young scotch firs. i kept an exact record of every bird which i shot throughout the whole season. one day when shooting at woodhouse with captain owen, the eldest son, and major hill, his cousin, afterwards lord berwick, both of whom i liked very much, i thought myself shamefully used, for every time after i had fired and thought that i had killed a bird, one of the two acted as if loading his gun, and cried out, "you must not count that bird, for i fired at the same time," and the gamekeeper, perceiving the joke, backed them up. after some hours they told me the joke, but it was no joke to me, for i had shot a large number of birds, but did not know how many, and could not add them to my list, which i used to do by making a knot in a piece of string tied to a button-hole. this my wicked friends had perceived. how i did enjoy shooting! but i think that i must have been half-consciously ashamed of my zeal, for i tried to persuade myself that shooting was almost an intellectual employment; it required so much skill to judge where to find most game and to hunt the dogs well. one of my autumnal visits to maer in was memorable from meeting there sir j. mackintosh, who was the best converser i ever listened to. i heard afterwards with a glow of pride that he had said, "there is something in that young man that interests me." this must have been chiefly due to his perceiving that i listened with much interest to everything which he said, for i was as ignorant as a pig about his subjects of history, politics, and moral philosophy. to hear of praise from an eminent person, though no doubt apt or certain to excite vanity, is, i think, good for a young man, as it helps to keep him in the right course. my visits to maer during these two or three succeeding years were quite delightful, independently of the autumnal shooting. life there was perfectly free; the country was very pleasant for walking or riding; and in the evening there was much very agreeable conversation, not so personal as it generally is in large family parties, together with music. in the summer the whole family used often to sit on the steps of the old portico, with the flower-garden in front, and with the steep wooded bank opposite the house reflected in the lake, with here and there a fish rising or a water-bird paddling about. nothing has left a more vivid picture on my mind than these evenings at maer. i was also attached to and greatly revered my uncle jos; he was silent and reserved, so as to be a rather awful man; but he sometimes talked openly with me. he was the very type of an upright man, with the clearest judgment. i do not believe that any power on earth could have made him swerve an inch from what he considered the right course. i used to apply to him in my mind the well-known ode of horace, now forgotten by me, in which the words "nec vultus tyranni, etc.," come in. (justum et tenacem propositi virum non civium ardor prava jubentium non vultus instantis tyranni mente quatit solida.) cambridge - . after having spent two sessions in edinburgh, my father perceived, or he heard from my sisters, that i did not like the thought of being a physician, so he proposed that i should become a clergyman. he was very properly vehement against my turning into an idle sporting man, which then seemed my probable destination. i asked for some time to consider, as from what little i had heard or thought on the subject i had scruples about declaring my belief in all the dogmas of the church of england; though otherwise i liked the thought of being a country clergyman. accordingly i read with care 'pearson on the creed,' and a few other books on divinity; and as i did not then in the least doubt the strict and literal truth of every word in the bible, i soon persuaded myself that our creed must be fully accepted. considering how fiercely i have been attacked by the orthodox, it seems ludicrous that i once intended to be a clergyman. nor was this intention and my father's wish ever formerly given up, but died a natural death when, on leaving cambridge, i joined the "beagle" as naturalist. if the phrenologists are to be trusted, i was well fitted in one respect to be a clergyman. a few years ago the secretaries of a german psychological society asked me earnestly by letter for a photograph of myself; and some time afterwards i received the proceedings of one of the meetings, in which it seemed that the shape of my head had been the subject of a public discussion, and one of the speakers declared that i had the bump of reverence developed enough for ten priests. as it was decided that i should be a clergyman, it was necessary that i should go to one of the english universities and take a degree; but as i had never opened a classical book since leaving school, i found to my dismay, that in the two intervening years i had actually forgotten, incredible as it may appear, almost everything which i had learnt, even to some few of the greek letters. i did not therefore proceed to cambridge at the usual time in october, but worked with a private tutor in shrewsbury, and went to cambridge after the christmas vacation, early in . i soon recovered my school standard of knowledge, and could translate easy greek books, such as homer and the greek testament, with moderate facility. during the three years which i spent at cambridge my time was wasted, as far as the academical studies were concerned, as completely as at edinburgh and at school. i attempted mathematics, and even went during the summer of with a private tutor (a very dull man) to barmouth, but i got on very slowly. the work was repugnant to me, chiefly from my not being able to see any meaning in the early steps in algebra. this impatience was very foolish, and in after years i have deeply regretted that i did not proceed far enough at least to understand something of the great leading principles of mathematics, for men thus endowed seem to have an extra sense. but i do not believe that i should ever have succeeded beyond a very low grade. with respect to classics i did nothing except attend a few compulsory college lectures, and the attendance was almost nominal. in my second year i had to work for a month or two to pass the little-go, which i did easily. again, in my last year i worked with some earnestness for my final degree of b.a., and brushed up my classics, together with a little algebra and euclid, which latter gave me much pleasure, as it did at school. in order to pass the b.a. examination, it was also necessary to get up paley's 'evidences of christianity,' and his 'moral philosophy.' this was done in a thorough manner, and i am convinced that i could have written out the whole of the 'evidences' with perfect correctness, but not of course in the clear language of paley. the logic of this book and, as i may add, of his 'natural theology,' gave me as much delight as did euclid. the careful study of these works, without attempting to learn any part by rote, was the only part of the academical course which, as i then felt and as i still believe, was of the least use to me in the education of my mind. i did not at that time trouble myself about paley's premises; and taking these on trust, i was charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation. by answering well the examination questions in paley, by doing euclid well, and by not failing miserably in classics, i gained a good place among the oi polloi or crowd of men who do not go in for honours. oddly enough, i cannot remember how high i stood, and my memory fluctuates between the fifth, tenth, or twelfth, name on the list. (tenth in the list of january .) public lectures on several branches were given in the university, attendance being quite voluntary; but i was so sickened with lectures at edinburgh that i did not even attend sedgwick's eloquent and interesting lectures. had i done so i should probably have become a geologist earlier than i did. i attended, however, henslow's lectures on botany, and liked them much for their extreme clearness, and the admirable illustrations; but i did not study botany. henslow used to take his pupils, including several of the older members of the university, field excursions, on foot or in coaches, to distant places, or in a barge down the river, and lectured on the rarer plants and animals which were observed. these excursions were delightful. although, as we shall presently see, there were some redeeming features in my life at cambridge, my time was sadly wasted there, and worse than wasted. from my passion for shooting and for hunting, and, when this failed, for riding across country, i got into a sporting set, including some dissipated low-minded young men. we used often to dine together in the evening, though these dinners often included men of a higher stamp, and we sometimes drank too much, with jolly singing and playing at cards afterwards. i know that i ought to feel ashamed of days and evenings thus spent, but as some of my friends were very pleasant, and we were all in the highest spirits, i cannot help looking back to these times with much pleasure. but i am glad to think that i had many other friends of a widely different nature. i was very intimate with whitley (rev. c. whitley, hon. canon of durham, formerly reader in natural philosophy in durham university.), who was afterwards senior wrangler, and we used continually to take long walks together. he inoculated me with a taste for pictures and good engravings, of which i bought some. i frequently went to the fitzwilliam gallery, and my taste must have been fairly good, for i certainly admired the best pictures, which i discussed with the old curator. i read also with much interest sir joshua reynolds' book. this taste, though not natural to me, lasted for several years, and many of the pictures in the national gallery in london gave me much pleasure; that of sebastian del piombo exciting in me a sense of sublimity. i also got into a musical set, i believe by means of my warm-hearted friend, herbert (the late john maurice herbert, county court judge of cardiff and the monmouth circuit.), who took a high wrangler's degree. from associating with these men, and hearing them play, i acquired a strong taste for music, and used very often to time my walks so as to hear on week days the anthem in king's college chapel. this gave me intense pleasure, so that my backbone would sometimes shiver. i am sure that there was no affectation or mere imitation in this taste, for i used generally to go by myself to king's college, and i sometimes hired the chorister boys to sing in my rooms. nevertheless i am so utterly destitute of an ear, that i cannot perceive a discord, or keep time and hum a tune correctly; and it is a mystery how i could possibly have derived pleasure from music. my musical friends soon perceived my state, and sometimes amused themselves by making me pass an examination, which consisted in ascertaining how many tunes i could recognise when they were played rather more quickly or slowly than usual. 'god save the king,' when thus played, was a sore puzzle. there was another man with almost as bad an ear as i had, and strange to say he played a little on the flute. once i had the triumph of beating him in one of our musical examinations. but no pursuit at cambridge was followed with nearly so much eagerness or gave me so much pleasure as collecting beetles. it was the mere passion for collecting, for i did not dissect them, and rarely compared their external characters with published descriptions, but got them named anyhow. i will give a proof of my zeal: one day, on tearing off some old bark, i saw two rare beetles, and seized one in each hand; then i saw a third and new kind, which i could not bear to lose, so that i popped the one which i held in my right hand into my mouth. alas! it ejected some intensely acrid fluid, which burnt my tongue so that i was forced to spit the beetle out, which was lost, as was the third one. i was very successful in collecting, and invented two new methods; i employed a labourer to scrape during the winter, moss off old trees and place it in a large bag, and likewise to collect the rubbish at the bottom of the barges in which reeds are brought from the fens, and thus i got some very rare species. no poet ever felt more delighted at seeing his first poem published than i did at seeing, in stephens' 'illustrations of british insects,' the magic words, "captured by c. darwin, esq." i was introduced to entomology by my second cousin w. darwin fox, a clever and most pleasant man, who was then at christ's college, and with whom i became extremely intimate. afterwards i became well acquainted, and went out collecting, with albert way of trinity, who in after years became a well-known archaeologist; also with h. thompson of the same college, afterwards a leading agriculturist, chairman of a great railway, and member of parliament. it seems therefore that a taste for collecting beetles is some indication of future success in life! i am surprised what an indelible impression many of the beetles which i caught at cambridge have left on my mind. i can remember the exact appearance of certain posts, old trees and banks where i made a good capture. the pretty panagaeus crux-major was a treasure in those days, and here at down i saw a beetle running across a walk, and on picking it up instantly perceived that it differed slightly from p. crux-major, and it turned out to be p. quadripunctatus, which is only a variety or closely allied species, differing from it very slightly in outline. i had never seen in those old days licinus alive, which to an uneducated eye hardly differs from many of the black carabidous beetles; but my sons found here a specimen, and i instantly recognised that it was new to me; yet i had not looked at a british beetle for the last twenty years. i have not as yet mentioned a circumstance which influenced my whole career more than any other. this was my friendship with professor henslow. before coming up to cambridge, i had heard of him from my brother as a man who knew every branch of science, and i was accordingly prepared to reverence him. he kept open house once every week when all undergraduates, and some older members of the university, who were attached to science, used to meet in the evening. i soon got, through fox, an invitation, and went there regularly. before long i became well acquainted with henslow, and during the latter half of my time at cambridge took long walks with him on most days; so that i was called by some of the dons "the man who walks with henslow;" and in the evening i was very often asked to join his family dinner. his knowledge was great in botany, entomology, chemistry, mineralogy, and geology. his strongest taste was to draw conclusions from long-continued minute observations. his judgment was excellent, and his whole mind well balanced; but i do not suppose that any one would say that he possessed much original genius. he was deeply religious, and so orthodox that he told me one day he should be grieved if a single word of the thirty-nine articles were altered. his moral qualities were in every way admirable. he was free from every tinge of vanity or other petty feeling; and i never saw a man who thought so little about himself or his own concerns. his temper was imperturbably good, with the most winning and courteous manners; yet, as i have seen, he could be roused by any bad action to the warmest indignation and prompt action. i once saw in his company in the streets of cambridge almost as horrid a scene as could have been witnessed during the french revolution. two body-snatchers had been arrested, and whilst being taken to prison had been torn from the constable by a crowd of the roughest men, who dragged them by their legs along the muddy and stony road. they were covered from head to foot with mud, and their faces were bleeding either from having been kicked or from the stones; they looked like corpses, but the crowd was so dense that i got only a few momentary glimpses of the wretched creatures. never in my life have i seen such wrath painted on a man's face as was shown by henslow at this horrid scene. he tried repeatedly to penetrate the mob; but it was simply impossible. he then rushed away to the mayor, telling me not to follow him, but to get more policemen. i forget the issue, except that the two men were got into the prison without being killed. henslow's benevolence was unbounded, as he proved by his many excellent schemes for his poor parishioners, when in after years he held the living of hitcham. my intimacy with such a man ought to have been, and i hope was, an inestimable benefit. i cannot resist mentioning a trifling incident, which showed his kind consideration. whilst examining some pollen-grains on a damp surface, i saw the tubes exserted, and instantly rushed off to communicate my surprising discovery to him. now i do not suppose any other professor of botany could have helped laughing at my coming in such a hurry to make such a communication. but he agreed how interesting the phenomenon was, and explained its meaning, but made me clearly understand how well it was known; so i left him not in the least mortified, but well pleased at having discovered for myself so remarkable a fact, but determined not to be in such a hurry again to communicate my discoveries. dr. whewell was one of the older and distinguished men who sometimes visited henslow, and on several occasions i walked home with him at night. next to sir j. mackintosh he was the best converser on grave subjects to whom i ever listened. leonard jenyns (the well-known soame jenyns was cousin to mr. jenyns' father.), who afterwards published some good essays in natural history (mr. jenyns (now blomefield) described the fish for the zoology of the "beagle"; and is author of a long series of papers, chiefly zoological.), often stayed with henslow, who was his brother-in-law. i visited him at his parsonage on the borders of the fens [swaffham bulbeck], and had many a good walk and talk with him about natural history. i became also acquainted with several other men older than me, who did not care much about science, but were friends of henslow. one was a scotchman, brother of sir alexander ramsay, and tutor of jesus college: he was a delightful man, but did not live for many years. another was mr. dawes, afterwards dean of hereford, and famous for his success in the education of the poor. these men and others of the same standing, together with henslow, used sometimes to take distant excursions into the country, which i was allowed to join, and they were most agreeable. looking back, i infer that there must have been something in me a little superior to the common run of youths, otherwise the above-mentioned men, so much older than me and higher in academical position, would never have allowed me to associate with them. certainly i was not aware of any such superiority, and i remember one of my sporting friends, turner, who saw me at work with my beetles, saying that i should some day be a fellow of the royal society, and the notion seemed to me preposterous. during my last year at cambridge, i read with care and profound interest humboldt's 'personal narrative.' this work, and sir j. herschel's 'introduction to the study of natural philosophy,' stirred up in me a burning zeal to add even the most humble contribution to the noble structure of natural science. no one or a dozen other books influenced me nearly so much as these two. i copied out from humboldt long passages about teneriffe, and read them aloud on one of the above-mentioned excursions, to (i think) henslow, ramsay, and dawes, for on a previous occasion i had talked about the glories of teneriffe, and some of the party declared they would endeavour to go there; but i think that they were only half in earnest. i was, however, quite in earnest, and got an introduction to a merchant in london to enquire about ships; but the scheme was, of course, knocked on the head by the voyage of the "beagle". my summer vacations were given up to collecting beetles, to some reading, and short tours. in the autumn my whole time was devoted to shooting, chiefly at woodhouse and maer, and sometimes with young eyton of eyton. upon the whole the three years which i spent at cambridge were the most joyful in my happy life; for i was then in excellent health, and almost always in high spirits. as i had at first come up to cambridge at christmas, i was forced to keep two terms after passing my final examination, at the commencement of ; and henslow then persuaded me to begin the study of geology. therefore on my return to shropshire i examined sections, and coloured a map of parts round shrewsbury. professor sedgwick intended to visit north wales in the beginning of august to pursue his famous geological investigations amongst the older rocks, and henslow asked him to allow me to accompany him. (in connection with this tour my father used to tell a story about sedgwick: they had started from their inn one morning, and had walked a mile or two, when sedgwick suddenly stopped, and vowed that he would return, being certain "that damned scoundrel" (the waiter) had not given the chambermaid the sixpence intrusted to him for the purpose. he was ultimately persuaded to give up the project, seeing that there was no reason for suspecting the waiter of especial perfidy.--f.d.) accordingly he came and slept at my father's house. a short conversation with him during this evening produced a strong impression on my mind. whilst examining an old gravel-pit near shrewsbury, a labourer told me that he had found in it a large worn tropical volute shell, such as may be seen on the chimney-pieces of cottages; and as he would not sell the shell, i was convinced that he had really found it in the pit. i told sedgwick of the fact, and he at once said (no doubt truly) that it must have been thrown away by some one into the pit; but then added, if really embedded there it would be the greatest misfortune to geology, as it would overthrow all that we know about the superficial deposits of the midland counties. these gravel-beds belong in fact to the glacial period, and in after years i found in them broken arctic shells. but i was then utterly astonished at sedgwick not being delighted at so wonderful a fact as a tropical shell being found near the surface in the middle of england. nothing before had ever made me thoroughly realise, though i had read various scientific books, that science consists in grouping facts so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them. next morning we started for llangollen, conway, bangor, and capel curig. this tour was of decided use in teaching me a little how to make out the geology of a country. sedgwick often sent me on a line parallel to his, telling me to bring back specimens of the rocks and to mark the stratification on a map. i have little doubt that he did this for my good, as i was too ignorant to have aided him. on this tour i had a striking instance of how easy it is to overlook phenomena, however conspicuous, before they have been observed by any one. we spent many hours in cwm idwal, examining all the rocks with extreme care, as sedgwick was anxious to find fossils in them; but neither of us saw a trace of the wonderful glacial phenomena all around us; we did not notice the plainly scored rocks, the perched boulders, the lateral and terminal moraines. yet these phenomena are so conspicuous that, as i declared in a paper published many years afterwards in the 'philosophical magazine' ('philosophical magazine,' .), a house burnt down by fire did not tell its story more plainly than did this valley. if it had still been filled by a glacier, the phenomena would have been less distinct than they now are. at capel curig i left sedgwick and went in a straight line by compass and map across the mountains to barmouth, never following any track unless it coincided with my course. i thus came on some strange wild places, and enjoyed much this manner of travelling. i visited barmouth to see some cambridge friends who were reading there, and thence returned to shrewsbury and to maer for shooting; for at that time i should have thought myself mad to give up the first days of partridge-shooting for geology or any other science. "voyage of the 'beagle' from december , , to october , ." on returning home from my short geological tour in north wales, i found a letter from henslow, informing me that captain fitz-roy was willing to give up part of his own cabin to any young man who would volunteer to go with him without pay as naturalist to the voyage of the "beagle". i have given, as i believe, in my ms. journal an account of all the circumstances which then occurred; i will here only say that i was instantly eager to accept the offer, but my father strongly objected, adding the words, fortunate for me, "if you can find any man of common sense who advises you to go i will give my consent." so i wrote that evening and refused the offer. on the next morning i went to maer to be ready for september st, and, whilst out shooting, my uncle (josiah wedgwood.) sent for me, offering to drive me over to shrewsbury and talk with my father, as my uncle thought it would be wise in me to accept the offer. my father always maintained that he was one of the most sensible men in the world, and he at once consented in the kindest manner. i had been rather extravagant at cambridge, and to console my father, said, "that i should be deuced clever to spend more than my allowance whilst on board the 'beagle';" but he answered with a smile, "but they tell me you are very clever." next day i started for cambridge to see henslow, and thence to london to see fitz-roy, and all was soon arranged. afterwards, on becoming very intimate with fitz-roy, i heard that i had run a very narrow risk of being rejected, on account of the shape of my nose! he was an ardent disciple of lavater, and was convinced that he could judge of a man's character by the outline of his features; and he doubted whether any one with my nose could possess sufficient energy and determination for the voyage. but i think he was afterwards well satisfied that my nose had spoken falsely. fitz-roy's character was a singular one, with very many noble features: he was devoted to his duty, generous to a fault, bold, determined, and indomitably energetic, and an ardent friend to all under his sway. he would undertake any sort of trouble to assist those whom he thought deserved assistance. he was a handsome man, strikingly like a gentleman, with highly courteous manners, which resembled those of his maternal uncle, the famous lord castlereagh, as i was told by the minister at rio. nevertheless he must have inherited much in his appearance from charles ii., for dr. wallich gave me a collection of photographs which he had made, and i was struck with the resemblance of one to fitz-roy; and on looking at the name, i found it ch. e. sobieski stuart, count d'albanie, a descendant of the same monarch. fitz-roy's temper was a most unfortunate one. it was usually worst in the early morning, and with his eagle eye he could generally detect something amiss about the ship, and was then unsparing in his blame. he was very kind to me, but was a man very difficult to live with on the intimate terms which necessarily followed from our messing by ourselves in the same cabin. we had several quarrels; for instance, early in the voyage at bahia, in brazil, he defended and praised slavery, which i abominated, and told me that he had just visited a great slave-owner, who had called up many of his slaves and asked them whether they were happy, and whether they wished to be free, and all answered "no." i then asked him, perhaps with a sneer, whether he thought that the answer of slaves in the presence of their master was worth anything? this made him excessively angry, and he said that as i doubted his word we could not live any longer together. i thought that i should have been compelled to leave the ship; but as soon as the news spread, which it did quickly, as the captain sent for the first lieutenant to assuage his anger by abusing me, i was deeply gratified by receiving an invitation from all the gun-room officers to mess with them. but after a few hours fitz-roy showed his usual magnanimity by sending an officer to me with an apology and a request that i would continue to live with him. his character was in several respects one of the most noble which i have ever known. the voyage of the "beagle" has been by far the most important event in my life, and has determined my whole career; yet it depended on so small a circumstance as my uncle offering to drive me thirty miles to shrewsbury, which few uncles would have done, and on such a trifle as the shape of my nose. i have always felt that i owe to the voyage the first real training or education of my mind; i was led to attend closely to several branches of natural history, and thus my powers of observation were improved, though they were always fairly developed. the investigation of the geology of all the places visited was far more important, as reasoning here comes into play. on first examining a new district nothing can appear more hopeless than the chaos of rocks; but by recording the stratification and nature of the rocks and fossils at many points, always reasoning and predicting what will be found elsewhere, light soon begins to dawn on the district, and the structure of the whole becomes more or less intelligible. i had brought with me the first volume of lyell's 'principles of geology,' which i studied attentively; and the book was of the highest service to me in many ways. the very first place which i examined, namely st. jago in the cape de verde islands, showed me clearly the wonderful superiority of lyell's manner of treating geology, compared with that of any other author, whose works i had with me or ever afterwards read. another of my occupations was collecting animals of all classes, briefly describing and roughly dissecting many of the marine ones; but from not being able to draw, and from not having sufficient anatomical knowledge, a great pile of ms. which i made during the voyage has proved almost useless. i thus lost much time, with the exception of that spent in acquiring some knowledge of the crustaceans, as this was of service when in after years i undertook a monograph of the cirripedia. during some part of the day i wrote my journal, and took much pains in describing carefully and vividly all that i had seen; and this was good practice. my journal served also, in part, as letters to my home, and portions were sent to england whenever there was an opportunity. the above various special studies were, however, of no importance compared with the habit of energetic industry and of concentrated attention to whatever i was engaged in, which i then acquired. everything about which i thought or read was made to bear directly on what i had seen or was likely to see; and this habit of mind was continued during the five years of the voyage. i feel sure that it was this training which has enabled me to do whatever i have done in science. looking backwards, i can now perceive how my love for science gradually preponderated over every other taste. during the first two years my old passion for shooting survived in nearly full force, and i shot myself all the birds and animals for my collection; but gradually i gave up my gun more and more, and finally altogether, to my servant, as shooting interfered with my work, more especially with making out the geological structure of a country. i discovered, though unconsciously and insensibly, that the pleasure of observing and reasoning was a much higher one than that of skill and sport. that my mind became developed through my pursuits during the voyage is rendered probable by a remark made by my father, who was the most acute observer whom i ever saw, of a sceptical disposition, and far from being a believer in phrenology; for on first seeing me after the voyage, he turned round to my sisters, and exclaimed, "why, the shape of his head is quite altered." to return to the voyage. on september th ( ), i paid a flying visit with fitz-roy to the "beagle" at plymouth. thence to shrewsbury to wish my father and sisters a long farewell. on october th i took up my residence at plymouth, and remained there until december th, when the "beagle" finally left the shores of england for her circumnavigation of the world. we made two earlier attempts to sail, but were driven back each time by heavy gales. these two months at plymouth were the most miserable which i ever spent, though i exerted myself in various ways. i was out of spirits at the thought of leaving all my family and friends for so long a time, and the weather seemed to me inexpressibly gloomy. i was also troubled with palpitation and pain about the heart, and like many a young ignorant man, especially one with a smattering of medical knowledge, was convinced that i had heart disease. i did not consult any doctor, as i fully expected to hear the verdict that i was not fit for the voyage, and i was resolved to go at all hazards. i need not here refer to the events of the voyage--where we went and what we did--as i have given a sufficiently full account in my published journal. the glories of the vegetation of the tropics rise before my mind at the present time more vividly than anything else; though the sense of sublimity, which the great deserts of patagonia and the forest-clad mountains of tierra del fuego excited in me, has left an indelible impression on my mind. the sight of a naked savage in his native land is an event which can never be forgotten. many of my excursions on horseback through wild countries, or in the boats, some of which lasted several weeks, were deeply interesting: their discomfort and some degree of danger were at that time hardly a drawback, and none at all afterwards. i also reflect with high satisfaction on some of my scientific work, such as solving the problem of coral islands, and making out the geological structure of certain islands, for instance, st. helena. nor must i pass over the discovery of the singular relations of the animals and plants inhabiting the several islands of the galapagos archipelago, and of all of them to the inhabitants of south america. as far as i can judge of myself, i worked to the utmost during the voyage from the mere pleasure of investigation, and from my strong desire to add a few facts to the great mass of facts in natural science. but i was also ambitious to take a fair place among scientific men,--whether more ambitious or less so than most of my fellow-workers, i can form no opinion. the geology of st. jago is very striking, yet simple: a stream of lava formerly flowed over the bed of the sea, formed of triturated recent shells and corals, which it has baked into a hard white rock. since then the whole island has been upheaved. but the line of white rock revealed to me a new and important fact, namely, that there had been afterwards subsidence round the craters, which had since been in action, and had poured forth lava. it then first dawned on me that i might perhaps write a book on the geology of the various countries visited, and this made me thrill with delight. that was a memorable hour to me, and how distinctly i can call to mind the low cliff of lava beneath which i rested, with the sun glaring hot, a few strange desert plants growing near, and with living corals in the tidal pools at my feet. later in the voyage, fitz-roy asked me to read some of my journal, and declared it would be worth publishing; so here was a second book in prospect! towards the close of our voyage i received a letter whilst at ascension, in which my sisters told me that sedgwick had called on my father, and said that i should take a place among the leading scientific men. i could not at the time understand how he could have learnt anything of my proceedings, but i heard (i believe afterwards) that henslow had read some of the letters which i wrote to him before the philosophical society of cambridge (read at the meeting held november , , and printed in a pamphlet of pages for distribution among the members of the society.), and had printed them for private distribution. my collection of fossil bones, which had been sent to henslow, also excited considerable attention amongst palaeontologists. after reading this letter, i clambered over the mountains of ascension with a bounding step, and made the volcanic rocks resound under my geological hammer. all this shows how ambitious i was; but i think that i can say with truth that in after years, though i cared in the highest degree for the approbation of such men as lyell and hooker, who were my friends, i did not care much about the general public. i do not mean to say that a favourable review or a large sale of my books did not please me greatly, but the pleasure was a fleeting one, and i am sure that i have never turned one inch out of my course to gain fame. from my return to england (october , ) to my marriage (january , .) these two years and three months were the most active ones which i ever spent, though i was occasionally unwell, and so lost some time. after going backwards and forwards several times between shrewsbury, maer, cambridge, and london, i settled in lodgings at cambridge (in fitzwilliam street.) on december th, where all my collections were under the care of henslow. i stayed here three months, and got my minerals and rocks examined by the aid of professor miller. i began preparing my 'journal of travels,' which was not hard work, as my ms. journal had been written with care, and my chief labour was making an abstract of my more interesting scientific results. i sent also, at the request of lyell, a short account of my observations on the elevation of the coast of chile to the geological society. ('geolog. soc. proc. ii. , pages - .) on march th, , i took lodgings in great marlborough street in london, and remained there for nearly two years, until i was married. during these two years i finished my journal, read several papers before the geological society, began preparing the ms. for my 'geological observations,' and arranged for the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle".' in july i opened my first note-book for facts in relation to the origin of species, about which i had long reflected, and never ceased working for the next twenty years. during these two years i also went a little into society, and acted as one of the honorary secretaries of the geological society. i saw a great deal of lyell. one of his chief characteristics was his sympathy with the work of others, and i was as much astonished as delighted at the interest which he showed when, on my return to england, i explained to him my views on coral reefs. this encouraged me greatly, and his advice and example had much influence on me. during this time i saw also a good deal of robert brown; i used often to call and sit with him during his breakfast on sunday mornings, and he poured forth a rich treasure of curious observations and acute remarks, but they almost always related to minute points, and he never with me discussed large or general questions in science. during these two years i took several short excursions as a relaxation, and one longer one to the parallel roads of glen roy, an account of which was published in the 'philosophical transactions.' ( , pages - .) this paper was a great failure, and i am ashamed of it. having been deeply impressed with what i had seen of the elevation of the land of south america, i attributed the parallel lines to the action of the sea; but i had to give up this view when agassiz propounded his glacier-lake theory. because no other explanation was possible under our then state of knowledge, i argued in favour of sea-action; and my error has been a good lesson to me never to trust in science to the principle of exclusion. as i was not able to work all day at science, i read a good deal during these two years on various subjects, including some metaphysical books; but i was not well fitted for such studies. about this time i took much delight in wordsworth's and coleridge's poetry; and can boast that i read the 'excursion' twice through. formerly milton's 'paradise lost' had been my chief favourite, and in my excursions during the voyage of the "beagle", when i could take only a single volume, i always chose milton. from my marriage, january , , and residence in upper gower street, to our leaving london and settling at down, september , . (after speaking of his happy married life, and of his children, he continues:--) during the three years and eight months whilst we resided in london, i did less scientific work, though i worked as hard as i possibly could, than during any other equal length of time in my life. this was owing to frequently recurring unwellness, and to one long and serious illness. the greater part of my time, when i could do anything, was devoted to my work on 'coral reefs,' which i had begun before my marriage, and of which the last proof-sheet was corrected on may th, . this book, though a small one, cost me twenty months of hard work, as i had to read every work on the islands of the pacific and to consult many charts. it was thought highly of by scientific men, and the theory therein given is, i think, now well established. no other work of mine was begun in so deductive a spirit as this, for the whole theory was thought out on the west coast of south america, before i had seen a true coral reef. i had therefore only to verify and extend my views by a careful examination of living reefs. but it should be observed that i had during the two previous years been incessantly attending to the effects on the shores of south america of the intermittent elevation of the land, together with denudation and the deposition of sediment. this necessarily led me to reflect much on the effects of subsidence, and it was easy to replace in imagination the continued deposition of sediment by the upward growth of corals. to do this was to form my theory of the formation of barrier-reefs and atolls. besides my work on coral-reefs, during my residence in london, i read before the geological society papers on the erratic boulders of south america ('geolog. soc. proc.' iii. .), on earthquakes ('geolog. trans. v. .), and on the formation by the agency of earth-worms of mould. ('geolog. soc. proc. ii. .) i also continued to superintend the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle".' nor did i ever intermit collecting facts bearing on the origin of species; and i could sometimes do this when i could do nothing else from illness. in the summer of i was stronger than i had been for some time, and took a little tour by myself in north wales, for the sake of observing the effects of the old glaciers which formerly filled all the larger valleys. i published a short account of what i saw in the 'philosophical magazine.' ('philosophical magazine,' .) this excursion interested me greatly, and it was the last time i was ever strong enough to climb mountains or to take long walks such as are necessary for geological work. during the early part of our life in london, i was strong enough to go into general society, and saw a good deal of several scientific men, and other more or less distinguished men. i will give my impressions with respect to some of them, though i have little to say worth saying. i saw more of lyell than of any other man, both before and after my marriage. his mind was characterised, as it appeared to me, by clearness, caution, sound judgment, and a good deal of originality. when i made any remark to him on geology, he never rested until he saw the whole case clearly, and often made me see it more clearly than i had done before. he would advance all possible objections to my suggestion, and even after these were exhausted would long remain dubious. a second characteristic was his hearty sympathy with the work of other scientific men. (the slight repetition here observable is accounted for by the notes on lyell, etc., having been added in april, , a few years after the rest of the 'recollections' were written.) on my return from the voyage of the "beagle", i explained to him my views on coral-reefs, which differed from his, and i was greatly surprised and encouraged by the vivid interest which he showed. his delight in science was ardent, and he felt the keenest interest in the future progress of mankind. he was very kind-hearted, and thoroughly liberal in his religious beliefs, or rather disbeliefs; but he was a strong theist. his candour was highly remarkable. he exhibited this by becoming a convert to the descent theory, though he had gained much fame by opposing lamarck's views, and this after he had grown old. he reminded me that i had many years before said to him, when discussing the opposition of the old school of geologists to his new views, "what a good thing it would be if every scientific man was to die when sixty years old, as afterwards he would be sure to oppose all new doctrines." but he hoped that now he might be allowed to live. the science of geology is enormously indebted to lyell--more so, as i believe, than to any other man who ever lived. when [i was] starting on the voyage of the "beagle", the sagacious henslow, who, like all other geologists, believed at that time in successive cataclysms, advised me to get and study the first volume of the 'principles,' which had then just been published, but on no account to accept the views therein advocated. how differently would any one now speak of the 'principles'! i am proud to remember that the first place, namely, st. jago, in the cape de verde archipelago, in which i geologised, convinced me of the infinite superiority of lyell's views over those advocated in any other work known to me. the powerful effects of lyell's works could formerly be plainly seen in the different progress of the science in france and england. the present total oblivion of elie de beaumont's wild hypotheses, such as his 'craters of elevation' and 'lines of elevation' (which latter hypothesis i heard sedgwick at the geological society lauding to the skies), may be largely attributed to lyell. i saw a good deal of robert brown, "facile princeps botanicorum," as he was called by humboldt. he seemed to me to be chiefly remarkable for the minuteness of his observations, and their perfect accuracy. his knowledge was extraordinarily great, and much died with him, owing to his excessive fear of ever making a mistake. he poured out his knowledge to me in the most unreserved manner, yet was strangely jealous on some points. i called on him two or three times before the voyage of the "beagle", and on one occasion he asked me to look through a microscope and describe what i saw. this i did, and believe now that it was the marvellous currents of protoplasm in some vegetable cell. i then asked him what i had seen; but he answered me, "that is my little secret." he was capable of the most generous actions. when old, much out of health, and quite unfit for any exertion, he daily visited (as hooker told me) an old man-servant, who lived at a distance (and whom he supported), and read aloud to him. this is enough to make up for any degree of scientific penuriousness or jealousy. i may here mention a few other eminent men, whom i have occasionally seen, but i have little to say about them worth saying. i felt a high reverence for sir j. herschel, and was delighted to dine with him at his charming house at the cape of good hope, and afterwards at his london house. i saw him, also, on a few other occasions. he never talked much, but every word which he uttered was worth listening to. i once met at breakfast at sir r. murchison's house the illustrious humboldt, who honoured me by expressing a wish to see me. i was a little disappointed with the great man, but my anticipations probably were too high. i can remember nothing distinctly about our interview, except that humboldt was very cheerful and talked much. --reminds me of buckle whom i once met at hensleigh wedgwood's. i was very glad to learn from him his system of collecting facts. he told me that he bought all the books which he read, and made a full index, to each, of the facts which he thought might prove serviceable to him, and that he could always remember in what book he had read anything, for his memory was wonderful. i asked him how at first he could judge what facts would be serviceable, and he answered that he did not know, but that a sort of instinct guided him. from this habit of making indices, he was enabled to give the astonishing number of references on all sorts of subjects, which may be found in his 'history of civilisation.' this book i thought most interesting, and read it twice, but i doubt whether his generalisations are worth anything. buckle was a great talker, and i listened to him saying hardly a word, nor indeed could i have done so for he left no gaps. when mrs. farrer began to sing, i jumped up and said that i must listen to her; after i had moved away he turned around to a friend and said (as was overheard by my brother), "well, mr. darwin's books are much better than his conversation." of other great literary men, i once met sydney smith at dean milman's house. there was something inexplicably amusing in every word which he uttered. perhaps this was partly due to the expectation of being amused. he was talking about lady cork, who was then extremely old. this was the lady who, as he said, was once so much affected by one of his charity sermons, that she borrowed a guinea from a friend to put in the plate. he now said "it is generally believed that my dear old friend lady cork has been overlooked," and he said this in such a manner that no one could for a moment doubt that he meant that his dear old friend had been overlooked by the devil. how he managed to express this i know not. i likewise once met macaulay at lord stanhope's (the historian's) house, and as there was only one other man at dinner, i had a grand opportunity of hearing him converse, and he was very agreeable. he did not talk at all too much; nor indeed could such a man talk too much, as long as he allowed others to turn the stream of his conversation, and this he did allow. lord stanhope once gave me a curious little proof of the accuracy and fulness of macaulay's memory: many historians used often to meet at lord stanhope's house, and in discussing various subjects they would sometimes differ from macaulay, and formerly they often referred to some book to see who was right; but latterly, as lord stanhope noticed, no historian ever took this trouble, and whatever macaulay said was final. on another occasion i met at lord stanhope's house, one of his parties of historians and other literary men, and amongst them were motley and grote. after luncheon i walked about chevening park for nearly an hour with grote, and was much interested by his conversation and pleased by the simplicity and absence of all pretension in his manners. long ago i dined occasionally with the old earl, the father of the historian; he was a strange man, but what little i knew of him i liked much. he was frank, genial, and pleasant. he had strongly marked features, with a brown complexion, and his clothes, when i saw him, were all brown. he seemed to believe in everything which was to others utterly incredible. he said one day to me, "why don't you give up your fiddle-faddle of geology and zoology, and turn to the occult sciences!" the historian, then lord mahon, seemed shocked at such a speech to me, and his charming wife much amused. the last man whom i will mention is carlyle, seen by me several times at my brother's house, and two or three times at my own house. his talk was very racy and interesting, just like his writings, but he sometimes went on too long on the same subject. i remember a funny dinner at my brother's, where, amongst a few others, were babbage and lyell, both of whom liked to talk. carlyle, however, silenced every one by haranguing during the whole dinner on the advantages of silence. after dinner babbage, in his grimmest manner, thanked carlyle for his very interesting lecture on silence. carlyle sneered at almost every one: one day in my house he called grote's 'history' "a fetid quagmire, with nothing spiritual about it." i always thought, until his 'reminiscences' appeared, that his sneers were partly jokes, but this now seems rather doubtful. his expression was that of a depressed, almost despondent yet benevolent man; and it is notorious how heartily he laughed. i believe that his benevolence was real, though stained by not a little jealousy. no one can doubt about his extraordinary power of drawing pictures of things and men--far more vivid, as it appears to me, than any drawn by macaulay. whether his pictures of men were true ones is another question. he has been all-powerful in impressing some grand moral truths on the minds of men. on the other hand, his views about slavery were revolting. in his eyes might was right. his mind seemed to me a very narrow one; even if all branches of science, which he despised, are excluded. it is astonishing to me that kingsley should have spoken of him as a man well fitted to advance science. he laughed to scorn the idea that a mathematician, such as whewell, could judge, as i maintained he could, of goethe's views on light. he thought it a most ridiculous thing that any one should care whether a glacier moved a little quicker or a little slower, or moved at all. as far as i could judge, i never met a man with a mind so ill adapted for scientific research. whilst living in london, i attended as regularly as i could the meetings of several scientific societies, and acted as secretary to the geological society. but such attendance, and ordinary society, suited my health so badly that we resolved to live in the country, which we both preferred and have never repented of. residence at down from september , , to the present time, . after several fruitless searches in surrey and elsewhere, we found this house and purchased it. i was pleased with the diversified appearance of vegetation proper to a chalk district, and so unlike what i had been accustomed to in the midland counties; and still more pleased with the extreme quietness and rusticity of the place. it is not, however, quite so retired a place as a writer in a german periodical makes it, who says that my house can be approached only by a mule-track! our fixing ourselves here has answered admirably in one way, which we did not anticipate, namely, by being very convenient for frequent visits from our children. few persons can have lived a more retired life than we have done. besides short visits to the houses of relations, and occasionally to the seaside or elsewhere, we have gone nowhere. during the first part of our residence we went a little into society, and received a few friends here; but my health almost always suffered from the excitement, violent shivering and vomiting attacks being thus brought on. i have therefore been compelled for many years to give up all dinner-parties; and this has been somewhat of a deprivation to me, as such parties always put me into high spirits. from the same cause i have been able to invite here very few scientific acquaintances. my chief enjoyment and sole employment throughout life has been scientific work; and the excitement from such work makes me for the time forget, or drives quite away, my daily discomfort. i have therefore nothing to record during the rest of my life, except the publication of my several books. perhaps a few details how they arose may be worth giving. my several publications. in the early part of , my observations on the volcanic islands visited during the voyage of the "beagle" were published. in , i took much pains in correcting a new edition of my 'journal of researches,' which was originally published in as part of fitz-roy's work. the success of this, my first literary child, always tickles my vanity more than that of any of my other books. even to this day it sells steadily in england and the united states, and has been translated for the second time into german, and into french and other languages. this success of a book of travels, especially of a scientific one, so many years after its first publication, is surprising. ten thousand copies have been sold in england of the second edition. in my 'geological observations on south america' were published. i record in a little diary, which i have always kept, that my three geological books ('coral reefs' included) consumed four and a half years' steady work; "and now it is ten years since my return to england. how much time have i lost by illness?" i have nothing to say about these three books except that to my surprise new editions have lately been called for. ('geological observations,' nd edit. . 'coral reefs,' nd edit. .) in october, , i began to work on 'cirripedia.' when on the coast of chile, i found a most curious form, which burrowed into the shells of concholepas, and which differed so much from all other cirripedes that i had to form a new sub-order for its sole reception. lately an allied burrowing genus has been found on the shores of portugal. to understand the structure of my new cirripede i had to examine and dissect many of the common forms; and this gradually led me on to take up the whole group. i worked steadily on this subject for the next eight years, and ultimately published two thick volumes (published by the ray society.), describing all the known living species, and two thin quartos on the extinct species. i do not doubt that sir e. lytton bulwer had me in his mind when he introduced in one of his novels a professor long, who had written two huge volumes on limpets. although i was employed during eight years on this work, yet i record in my diary that about two years out of this time was lost by illness. on this account i went in for some months to malvern for hydropathic treatment, which did me much good, so that on my return home i was able to resume work. so much was i out of health that when my dear father died on november th, , i was unable to attend his funeral or to act as one of his executors. my work on the cirripedia possesses, i think, considerable value, as besides describing several new and remarkable forms, i made out the homologies of the various parts--i discovered the cementing apparatus, though i blundered dreadfully about the cement glands--and lastly i proved the existence in certain genera of minute males complemental to and parasitic on the hermaphrodites. this latter discovery has at last been fully confirmed; though at one time a german writer was pleased to attribute the whole account to my fertile imagination. the cirripedes form a highly varying and difficult group of species to class; and my work was of considerable use to me, when i had to discuss in the 'origin of species' the principles of a natural classification. nevertheless, i doubt whether the work was worth the consumption of so much time. from september i devoted my whole time to arranging my huge pile of notes, to observing, and to experimenting in relation to the transmutation of species. during the voyage of the "beagle" i had been deeply impressed by discovering in the pampean formation great fossil animals covered with armour like that on the existing armadillos; secondly, by the manner in which closely allied animals replace one another in proceeding southwards over the continent; and thirdly, by the south american character of most of the productions of the galapagos archipelago, and more especially by the manner in which they differ slightly on each island of the group; none of the islands appearing to be very ancient in a geological sense. it was evident that such facts as these, as well as many others, could only be explained on the supposition that species gradually become modified; and the subject haunted me. but it was equally evident that neither the action of the surrounding conditions, nor the will of the organisms (especially in the case of plants) could account for the innumerable cases in which organisms of every kind are beautifully adapted to their habits of life--for instance, a woodpecker or a tree-frog to climb trees, or a seed for dispersal by hooks or plumes. i had always been much struck by such adaptations, and until these could be explained it seemed to me almost useless to endeavour to prove by indirect evidence that species have been modified. after my return to england it appeared to me that by following the example of lyell in geology, and by collecting all facts which bore in any way on the variation of animals and plants under domestication and nature, some light might perhaps be thrown on the whole subject. my first note-book was opened in july . i worked on true baconian principles, and without any theory collected facts on a wholesale scale, more especially with respect to domesticated productions, by printed enquiries, by conversation with skilful breeders and gardeners, and by extensive reading. when i see the list of books of all kinds which i read and abstracted, including whole series of journals and transactions, i am surprised at my industry. i soon perceived that selection was the keystone of man's success in making useful races of animals and plants. but how selection could be applied to organisms living in a state of nature remained for some time a mystery to me. in october , that is, fifteen months after i had begun my systematic enquiry, i happened to read for amusement 'malthus on population,' and being well prepared to appreciate the struggle for existence which everywhere goes on from long-continued observation of the habits of animals and plants, it at once struck me that under these circumstances favourable variations would tend to be preserved, and unfavourable ones to be destroyed. the result of this would be the formation of new species. here then i had at last got a theory by which to work; but i was so anxious to avoid prejudice, that i determined not for some time to write even the briefest sketch of it. in june i first allowed myself the satisfaction of writing a very brief abstract of my theory in pencil in pages; and this was enlarged during the summer of into one of pages, which i had fairly copied out and still possess. but at that time i overlooked one problem of great importance; and it is astonishing to me, except on the principle of columbus and his egg, how i could have overlooked it and its solution. this problem is the tendency in organic beings descended from the same stock to diverge in character as they become modified. that they have diverged greatly is obvious from the manner in which species of all kinds can be classed under genera, genera under families, families under sub-orders and so forth; and i can remember the very spot in the road, whilst in my carriage, when to my joy the solution occurred to me; and this was long after i had come to down. the solution, as i believe, is that the modified offspring of all dominant and increasing forms tend to become adapted to many and highly diversified places in the economy of nature. early in lyell advised me to write out my views pretty fully, and i began at once to do so on a scale three or four times as extensive as that which was afterwards followed in my 'origin of species;' yet it was only an abstract of the materials which i had collected, and i got through about half the work on this scale. but my plans were overthrown, for early in the summer of mr. wallace, who was then in the malay archipelago, sent me an essay "on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type;" and this essay contained exactly the same theory as mine. mr. wallace expressed the wish that if i thought well of his essay, i should sent it to lyell for perusal. the circumstances under which i consented at the request of lyell and hooker to allow of an abstract from my ms., together with a letter to asa gray, dated september , , to be published at the same time with wallace's essay, are given in the 'journal of the proceedings of the linnean society,' , page . i was at first very unwilling to consent, as i thought mr. wallace might consider my doing so unjustifiable, for i did not then know how generous and noble was his disposition. the extract from my ms. and the letter to asa gray had neither been intended for publication, and were badly written. mr. wallace's essay, on the other hand, was admirably expressed and quite clear. nevertheless, our joint productions excited very little attention, and the only published notice of them which i can remember was by professor haughton of dublin, whose verdict was that all that was new in them was false, and what was true was old. this shows how necessary it is that any new view should be explained at considerable length in order to arouse public attention. in september i set to work by the strong advice of lyell and hooker to prepare a volume on the transmutation of species, but was often interrupted by ill-health, and short visits to dr. lane's delightful hydropathic establishment at moor park. i abstracted the ms. begun on a much larger scale in , and completed the volume on the same reduced scale. it cost me thirteen months and ten days' hard labour. it was published under the title of the 'origin of species,' in november . though considerably added to and corrected in the later editions, it has remained substantially the same book. it is no doubt the chief work of my life. it was from the first highly successful. the first small edition of copies was sold on the day of publication, and a second edition of copies soon afterwards. sixteen thousand copies have now ( ) been sold in england; and considering how stiff a book it is, this is a large sale. it has been translated into almost every european tongue, even into such languages as spanish, bohemian, polish, and russian. it has also, according to miss bird, been translated into japanese (miss bird is mistaken, as i learn from prof. mitsukuri.--f.d.), and is there much studied. even an essay in hebrew has appeared on it, showing that the theory is contained in the old testament! the reviews were very numerous; for some time i collected all that appeared on the 'origin' and on my related books, and these amount (excluding newspaper reviews) to ; but after a time i gave up the attempt in despair. many separate essays and books on the subject have appeared; and in germany a catalogue or bibliography on "darwinismus" has appeared every year or two. the success of the 'origin' may, i think, be attributed in large part to my having long before written two condensed sketches, and to my having finally abstracted a much larger manuscript, which was itself an abstract. by this means i was enabled to select the more striking facts and conclusions. i had, also, during many years followed a golden rule, namely, that whenever a published fact, a new observation or thought came across me, which was opposed to my general results, to make a memorandum of it without fail and at once; for i had found by experience that such facts and thoughts were far more apt to escape from the memory than favourable ones. owing to this habit, very few objections were raised against my views which i had not at least noticed and attempted to answer. it has sometimes been said that the success of the 'origin' proved "that the subject was in the air," or "that men's minds were prepared for it." i do not think that this is strictly true, for i occasionally sounded not a few naturalists, and never happened to come across a single one who seemed to doubt about the permanence of species. even lyell and hooker, though they would listen with interest to me, never seemed to agree. i tried once or twice to explain to able men what i meant by natural selection, but signally failed. what i believe was strictly true is that innumerable well-observed facts were stored in the minds of naturalists ready to take their proper places as soon as any theory which would receive them was sufficiently explained. another element in the success of the book was its moderate size; and this i owe to the appearance of mr. wallace's essay; had i published on the scale in which i began to write in , the book would have been four or five times as large as the 'origin,' and very few would have had the patience to read it. i gained much by my delay in publishing from about , when the theory was clearly conceived, to ; and i lost nothing by it, for i cared very little whether men attributed most originality to me or wallace; and his essay no doubt aided in the reception of the theory. i was forestalled in only one important point, which my vanity has always made me regret, namely, the explanation by means of the glacial period of the presence of the same species of plants and of some few animals on distant mountain summits and in the arctic regions. this view pleased me so much that i wrote it out in extenso, and i believe that it was read by hooker some years before e. forbes published his celebrated memoir ('geolog. survey mem.,' .) on the subject. in the very few points in which we differed, i still think that i was in the right. i have never, of course, alluded in print to my having independently worked out this view. hardly any point gave me so much satisfaction when i was at work on the 'origin,' as the explanation of the wide difference in many classes between the embryo and the adult animal, and of the close resemblance of the embryos within the same class. no notice of this point was taken, as far as i remember, in the early reviews of the 'origin,' and i recollect expressing my surprise on this head in a letter to asa gray. within late years several reviewers have given the whole credit to fritz muller and hackel, who undoubtedly have worked it out much more fully, and in some respects more correctly than i did. i had materials for a whole chapter on the subject, and i ought to have made the discussion longer; for it is clear that i failed to impress my readers; and he who succeeds in doing so deserves, in my opinion, all the credit. this leads me to remark that i have almost always been treated honestly by my reviewers, passing over those without scientific knowledge as not worthy of notice. my views have often been grossly misrepresented, bitterly opposed and ridiculed, but this has been generally done, as i believe, in good faith. on the whole i do not doubt that my works have been over and over again greatly overpraised. i rejoice that i have avoided controversies, and this i owe to lyell, who many years ago, in reference to my geological works, strongly advised me never to get entangled in a controversy, as it rarely did any good and caused a miserable loss of time and temper. whenever i have found out that i have blundered, or that my work has been imperfect, and when i have been contemptuously criticised, and even when i have been overpraised, so that i have felt mortified, it has been my greatest comfort to say hundreds of times to myself that "i have worked as hard and as well as i could, and no man can do more than this." i remember when in good success bay, in tierra del fuego, thinking (and, i believe, that i wrote home to the effect) that i could not employ my life better than in adding a little to natural science. this i have done to the best of my abilities, and critics may say what they like, but they cannot destroy this conviction. during the two last months of i was fully occupied in preparing a second edition of the 'origin,' and by an enormous correspondence. on january st, , i began arranging my notes for my work on the 'variation of animals and plants under domestication;' but it was not published until the beginning of ; the delay having been caused partly by frequent illnesses, one of which lasted seven months, and partly by being tempted to publish on other subjects which at the time interested me more. on may th, , my little book on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' which cost me ten months' work, was published: most of the facts had been slowly accumulated during several previous years. during the summer of , and, i believe, during the previous summer, i was led to attend to the cross-fertilisation of flowers by the aid of insects, from having come to the conclusion in my speculations on the origin of species, that crossing played an important part in keeping specific forms constant. i attended to the subject more or less during every subsequent summer; and my interest in it was greatly enhanced by having procured and read in november , through the advice of robert brown, a copy of c.k. sprengel's wonderful book, 'das entdeckte geheimniss der natur.' for some years before i had specially attended to the fertilisation of our british orchids; and it seemed to me the best plan to prepare as complete a treatise on this group of plants as well as i could, rather than to utilise the great mass of matter which i had slowly collected with respect to other plants. my resolve proved a wise one; for since the appearance of my book, a surprising number of papers and separate works on the fertilisation of all kinds of flowers have appeared: and these are far better done than i could possibly have effected. the merits of poor old sprengel, so long overlooked, are now fully recognised many years after his death. during the same year i published in the 'journal of the linnean society' a paper "on the two forms, or dimorphic condition of primula," and during the next five years, five other papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants. i do not think anything in my scientific life has given me so much satisfaction as making out the meaning of the structure of these plants. i had noticed in or the dimorphism of linum flavum, and had at first thought that it was merely a case of unmeaning variability. but on examining the common species of primula i found that the two forms were much too regular and constant to be thus viewed. i therefore became almost convinced that the common cowslip and primrose were on the high road to become dioecious;--that the short pistil in the one form, and the short stamens in the other form were tending towards abortion. the plants were therefore subjected under this point of view to trial; but as soon as the flowers with short pistils fertilised with pollen from the short stamens, were found to yield more seeds than any other of the four possible unions, the abortion-theory was knocked on the head. after some additional experiment, it became evident that the two forms, though both were perfect hermaphrodites, bore almost the same relation to one another as do the two sexes of an ordinary animal. with lythrum we have the still more wonderful case of three forms standing in a similar relation to one another. i afterwards found that the offspring from the union of two plants belonging to the same forms presented a close and curious analogy with hybrids from the union of two distinct species. in the autumn of i finished a long paper on 'climbing plants,' and sent it to the linnean society. the writing of this paper cost me four months; but i was so unwell when i received the proof-sheets that i was forced to leave them very badly and often obscurely expressed. the paper was little noticed, but when in it was corrected and published as a separate book it sold well. i was led to take up this subject by reading a short paper by asa gray, published in . he sent me seeds, and on raising some plants i was so much fascinated and perplexed by the revolving movements of the tendrils and stems, which movements are really very simple, though appearing at first sight very complex, that i procured various other kinds of climbing plants, and studied the whole subject. i was all the more attracted to it, from not being at all satisfied with the explanation which henslow gave us in his lectures, about twining plants, namely, that they had a natural tendency to grow up in a spire. this explanation proved quite erroneous. some of the adaptations displayed by climbing plants are as beautiful as those of orchids for ensuring cross-fertilisation. my 'variation of animals and plants under domestication' was begun, as already stated, in the beginning of , but was not published until the beginning of . it was a big book, and cost me four years and two months' hard labour. it gives all my observations and an immense number of facts collected from various sources, about our domestic productions. in the second volume the causes and laws of variation, inheritance, etc., are discussed as far as our present state of knowledge permits. towards the end of the work i give my well-abused hypothesis of pangenesis. an unverified hypothesis is of little or no value; but if any one should hereafter be led to make observations by which some such hypothesis could be established, i shall have done good service, as an astonishing number of isolated facts can be thus connected together and rendered intelligible. in a second and largely corrected edition, which cost me a good deal of labour, was brought out. my 'descent of man' was published in february, . as soon as i had become, in the year or , convinced that species were mutable productions, i could not avoid the belief that man must come under the same law. accordingly i collected notes on the subject for my own satisfaction, and not for a long time with any intention of publishing. although in the 'origin of species' the derivation of any particular species is never discussed, yet i thought it best, in order that no honourable man should accuse me of concealing my views, to add that by the work "light would be thrown on the origin of man and his history." it would have been useless and injurious to the success of the book to have paraded, without giving any evidence, my conviction with respect to his origin. but when i found that many naturalists fully accepted the doctrine of the evolution of species, it seemed to me advisable to work up such notes as i possessed, and to publish a special treatise on the origin of man. i was the more glad to do so, as it gave me an opportunity of fully discussing sexual selection--a subject which had always greatly interested me. this subject, and that of the variation of our domestic productions, together with the causes and laws of variation, inheritance, and the intercrossing of plants, are the sole subjects which i have been able to write about in full, so as to use all the materials which i have collected. the 'descent of man' took me three years to write, but then as usual some of this time was lost by ill health, and some was consumed by preparing new editions and other minor works. a second and largely corrected edition of the 'descent' appeared in . my book on the 'expression of the emotions in men and animals' was published in the autumn of . i had intended to give only a chapter on the subject in the 'descent of man,' but as soon as i began to put my notes together, i saw that it would require a separate treatise. my first child was born on december th, , and i at once commenced to make notes on the first dawn of the various expressions which he exhibited, for i felt convinced, even at this early period, that the most complex and fine shades of expression must all have had a gradual and natural origin. during the summer of the following year, , i read sir c. bell's admirable work on expression, and this greatly increased the interest which i felt in the subject, though i could not at all agree with his belief that various muscles had been specially created for the sake of expression. from this time forward i occasionally attended to the subject, both with respect to man and our domesticated animals. my book sold largely; copies having been disposed of on the day of publication. in the summer of i was idling and resting near hartfield, where two species of drosera abound; and i noticed that numerous insects had been entrapped by the leaves. i carried home some plants, and on giving them insects saw the movements of the tentacles, and this made me think it probable that the insects were caught for some special purpose. fortunately a crucial test occurred to me, that of placing a large number of leaves in various nitrogenous and non-nitrogenous fluids of equal density; and as soon as i found that the former alone excited energetic movements, it was obvious that here was a fine new field for investigation. during subsequent years, whenever i had leisure, i pursued my experiments, and my book on 'insectivorous plants' was published in july --that is, sixteen years after my first observations. the delay in this case, as with all my other books, has been a great advantage to me; for a man after a long interval can criticise his own work, almost as well as if it were that of another person. the fact that a plant should secrete, when properly excited, a fluid containing an acid and ferment, closely analogous to the digestive fluid of an animal, was certainly a remarkable discovery. during this autumn of i shall publish on the 'effects of cross and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom.' this book will form a complement to that on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' in which i showed how perfect were the means for cross-fertilisation, and here i shall show how important are the results. i was led to make, during eleven years, the numerous experiments recorded in this volume, by a mere accidental observation; and indeed it required the accident to be repeated before my attention was thoroughly aroused to the remarkable fact that seedlings of self-fertilised parentage are inferior, even in the first generation, in height and vigour to seedlings of cross-fertilised parentage. i hope also to republish a revised edition of my book on orchids, and hereafter my papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants, together with some additional observations on allied points which i never have had time to arrange. my strength will then probably be exhausted, and i shall be ready to exclaim "nunc dimittis." written may st, . 'the effects of cross and self-fertilisation' was published in the autumn of ; and the results there arrived at explain, as i believe, the endless and wonderful contrivances for the transportal of pollen from one plant to another of the same species. i now believe, however, chiefly from the observations of hermann muller, that i ought to have insisted more strongly than i did on the many adaptations for self-fertilisation; though i was well aware of many such adaptations. a much enlarged edition of my 'fertilisation of orchids' was published in . in this same year 'the different forms of flowers, etc.,' appeared, and in a second edition. this book consists chiefly of the several papers on heterostyled flowers originally published by the linnean society, corrected, with much new matter added, together with observations on some other cases in which the same plant bears two kinds of flowers. as before remarked, no little discovery of mine ever gave me so much pleasure as the making out the meaning of heterostyled flowers. the results of crossing such flowers in an illegitimate manner, i believe to be very important, as bearing on the sterility of hybrids; although these results have been noticed by only a few persons. in , i had a translation of dr. ernst krause's 'life of erasmus darwin' published, and i added a sketch of his character and habits from material in my possession. many persons have been much interested by this little life, and i am surprised that only or copies were sold. in i published, with [my son] frank's assistance, our 'power of movement in plants.' this was a tough piece of work. the book bears somewhat the same relation to my little book on 'climbing plants,' which 'cross-fertilisation' did to the 'fertilisation of orchids;' for in accordance with the principle of evolution it was impossible to account for climbing plants having been developed in so many widely different groups unless all kinds of plants possess some slight power of movement of an analogous kind. this i proved to be the case; and i was further led to a rather wide generalisation, viz. that the great and important classes of movements, excited by light, the attraction of gravity, etc., are all modified forms of the fundamental movement of circumnutation. it has always pleased me to exalt plants in the scale of organised beings; and i therefore felt an especial pleasure in showing how many and what admirably well adapted movements the tip of a root possesses. i have now (may , ) sent to the printers the ms. of a little book on 'the formation of vegetable mould, through the action of worms.' this is a subject of but small importance; and i know not whether it will interest any readers (between november and february , copies have been sold.), but it has interested me. it is the completion of a short paper read before the geological society more than forty years ago, and has revived old geological thoughts. i have now mentioned all the books which i have published, and these have been the milestones in my life, so that little remains to be said. i am not conscious of any change in my mind during the last thirty years, excepting in one point presently to be mentioned; nor, indeed, could any change have been expected unless one of general deterioration. but my father lived to his eighty-third year with his mind as lively as ever it was, and all his faculties undimmed; and i hope that i may die before my mind fails to a sensible extent. i think that i have become a little more skilful in guessing right explanations and in devising experimental tests; but this may probably be the result of mere practice, and of a larger store of knowledge. i have as much difficulty as ever in expressing myself clearly and concisely; and this difficulty has caused me a very great loss of time; but it has had the compensating advantage of forcing me to think long and intently about every sentence, and thus i have been led to see errors in reasoning and in my own observations or those of others. there seems to be a sort of fatality in my mind leading me to put at first my statement or proposition in a wrong or awkward form. formerly i used to think about my sentences before writing them down; but for several years i have found that it saves time to scribble in a vile hand whole pages as quickly as i possibly can, contracting half the words; and then correct deliberately. sentences thus scribbled down are often better ones than i could have written deliberately. having said thus much about my manner of writing, i will add that with my large books i spend a good deal of time over the general arrangement of the matter. i first make the rudest outline in two or three pages, and then a larger one in several pages, a few words or one word standing for a whole discussion or series of facts. each one of these headings is again enlarged and often transferred before i begin to write in extenso. as in several of my books facts observed by others have been very extensively used, and as i have always had several quite distinct subjects in hand at the same time, i may mention that i keep from thirty to forty large portfolios, in cabinets with labelled shelves, into which i can at once put a detached reference or memorandum. i have bought many books, and at their ends i make an index of all the facts that concern my work; or, if the book is not my own, write out a separate abstract, and of such abstracts i have a large drawer full. before beginning on any subject i look to all the short indexes and make a general and classified index, and by taking the one or more proper portfolios i have all the information collected during my life ready for use. i have said that in one respect my mind has changed during the last twenty or thirty years. up to the age of thirty, or beyond it, poetry of many kinds, such as the works of milton, gray, byron, wordsworth, coleridge, and shelley, gave me great pleasure, and even as a schoolboy i took intense delight in shakespeare, especially in the historical plays. i have also said that formerly pictures gave me considerable, and music very great delight. but now for many years i cannot endure to read a line of poetry: i have tried lately to read shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. i have also almost lost my taste for pictures or music. music generally sets me thinking too energetically on what i have been at work on, instead of giving me pleasure. i retain some taste for fine scenery, but it does not cause me the exquisite delight which it formerly did. on the other hand, novels which are works of the imagination, though not of a very high order, have been for years a wonderful relief and pleasure to me, and i often bless all novelists. a surprising number have been read aloud to me, and i like all if moderately good, and if they do not end unhappily--against which a law ought to be passed. a novel, according to my taste, does not come into the first class unless it contains some person whom one can thoroughly love, and if a pretty woman all the better. this curious and lamentable loss of the higher aesthetic tastes is all the odder, as books on history, biographies, and travels (independently of any scientific facts which they may contain), and essays on all sorts of subjects interest me as much as ever they did. my mind seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, i cannot conceive. a man with a mind more highly organised or better constituted than mine, would not, i suppose, have thus suffered; and if i had to live my life again, i would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept active through use. the loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature. my books have sold largely in england, have been translated into many languages, and passed through several editions in foreign countries. i have heard it said that the success of a work abroad is the best test of its enduring value. i doubt whether this is at all trustworthy; but judged by this standard my name ought to last for a few years. therefore it may be worth while to try to analyse the mental qualities and the conditions on which my success has depended; though i am aware that no man can do this correctly. i have no great quickness of apprehension or wit which is so remarkable in some clever men, for instance, huxley. i am therefore a poor critic: a paper or book, when first read, generally excites my admiration, and it is only after considerable reflection that i perceive the weak points. my power to follow a long and purely abstract train of thought is very limited; and therefore i could never have succeeded with metaphysics or mathematics. my memory is extensive, yet hazy: it suffices to make me cautious by vaguely telling me that i have observed or read something opposed to the conclusion which i am drawing, or on the other hand in favour of it; and after a time i can generally recollect where to search for my authority. so poor in one sense is my memory, that i have never been able to remember for more than a few days a single date or a line of poetry. some of my critics have said, "oh, he is a good observer, but he has no power of reasoning!" i do not think that this can be true, for the 'origin of species' is one long argument from the beginning to the end, and it has convinced not a few able men. no one could have written it without having some power of reasoning. i have a fair share of invention, and of common sense or judgment, such as every fairly successful lawyer or doctor must have, but not, i believe, in any higher degree. on the favourable side of the balance, i think that i am superior to the common run of men in noticing things which easily escape attention, and in observing them carefully. my industry has been nearly as great as it could have been in the observation and collection of facts. what is far more important, my love of natural science has been steady and ardent. this pure love has, however, been much aided by the ambition to be esteemed by my fellow naturalists. from my early youth i have had the strongest desire to understand or explain whatever i observed,--that is, to group all facts under some general laws. these causes combined have given me the patience to reflect or ponder for any number of years over any unexplained problem. as far as i can judge, i am not apt to follow blindly the lead of other men. i have steadily endeavoured to keep my mind free so as to give up any hypothesis, however much beloved (and i cannot resist forming one on every subject), as soon as facts are shown to be opposed to it. indeed, i have had no choice but to act in this manner, for with the exception of the coral reefs, i cannot remember a single first-formed hypothesis which had not after a time to be given up or greatly modified. this has naturally led me to distrust greatly deductive reasoning in the mixed sciences. on the other hand, i am not very sceptical,--a frame of mind which i believe to be injurious to the progress of science. a good deal of scepticism in a scientific man is advisable to avoid much loss of time, but i have met with not a few men, who, i feel sure, have often thus been deterred from experiment or observations, which would have proved directly or indirectly serviceable. in illustration, i will give the oddest case which i have known. a gentleman (who, as i afterwards heard, is a good local botanist) wrote to me from the eastern counties that the seed or beans of the common field-bean had this year everywhere grown on the wrong side of the pod. i wrote back, asking for further information, as i did not understand what was meant; but i did not receive any answer for a very long time. i then saw in two newspapers, one published in kent and the other in yorkshire, paragraphs stating that it was a most remarkable fact that "the beans this year had all grown on the wrong side." so i thought there must be some foundation for so general a statement. accordingly, i went to my gardener, an old kentish man, and asked him whether he had heard anything about it, and he answered, "oh, no, sir, it must be a mistake, for the beans grow on the wrong side only on leap-year, and this is not leap-year." i then asked him how they grew in common years and how on leap-years, but soon found that he knew absolutely nothing of how they grew at any time, but he stuck to his belief. after a time i heard from my first informant, who, with many apologies, said that he should not have written to me had he not heard the statement from several intelligent farmers; but that he had since spoken again to every one of them, and not one knew in the least what he had himself meant. so that here a belief--if indeed a statement with no definite idea attached to it can be called a belief--had spread over almost the whole of england without any vestige of evidence. i have known in the course of my life only three intentionally falsified statements, and one of these may have been a hoax (and there have been several scientific hoaxes) which, however, took in an american agricultural journal. it related to the formation in holland of a new breed of oxen by the crossing of distinct species of bos (some of which i happen to know are sterile together), and the author had the impudence to state that he had corresponded with me, and that i had been deeply impressed with the importance of his result. the article was sent to me by the editor of an english agricultural journal, asking for my opinion before republishing it. a second case was an account of several varieties, raised by the author from several species of primula, which had spontaneously yielded a full complement of seed, although the parent plants had been carefully protected from the access of insects. this account was published before i had discovered the meaning of heterostylism, and the whole statement must have been fraudulent, or there was neglect in excluding insects so gross as to be scarcely credible. the third case was more curious: mr. huth published in his book on 'consanguineous marriage' some long extracts from a belgian author, who stated that he had interbred rabbits in the closest manner for very many generations, without the least injurious effects. the account was published in a most respectable journal, that of the royal society of belgium; but i could not avoid feeling doubts--i hardly know why, except that there were no accidents of any kind, and my experience in breeding animals made me think this very improbable. so with much hesitation i wrote to professor van beneden, asking him whether the author was a trustworthy man. i soon heard in answer that the society had been greatly shocked by discovering that the whole account was a fraud. (the falseness of the published statements on which mr. huth relied has been pointed out by himself in a slip inserted in all the copies of his book which then remained unsold.) the writer had been publicly challenged in the journal to say where he had resided and kept his large stock of rabbits while carrying on his experiments, which must have consumed several years, and no answer could be extracted from him. my habits are methodical, and this has been of not a little use for my particular line of work. lastly, i have had ample leisure from not having to earn my own bread. even ill-health, though it has annihilated several years of my life, has saved me from the distractions of society and amusement. therefore my success as a man of science, whatever this may have amounted to, has been determined, as far as i can judge, by complex and diversified mental qualities and conditions. of these, the most important have been--the love of science--unbounded patience in long reflecting over any subject--industry in observing and collecting facts--and a fair share of invention as well as of common sense. with such moderate abilities as i possess, it is truly surprising that i should have influenced to a considerable extent the belief of scientific men on some important points. chapter .iii. -- reminiscences of my father's everyday life. it is my wish in the present chapter to give some idea of my father's everyday life. it has seemed to me that i might carry out this object in the form of a rough sketch of a day's life at down, interspersed with such recollections as are called up by the record. many of these recollections, which have a meaning for those who knew my father, will seem colourless or trifling to strangers. nevertheless, i give them in the hope that they may help to preserve that impression of his personality which remains on the minds of those who knew and loved him--an impression at once so vivid and so untranslatable into words. of his personal appearance (in these days of multiplied photographs) it is hardly necessary to say much. he was about six feet in height, but scarcely looked so tall, as he stooped a good deal; in later days he yielded to the stoop; but i can remember seeing him long ago swinging his arms back to open out his chest, and holding himself upright with a jerk. he gave one the idea that he had been active rather than strong; his shoulders were not broad for his height, though certainly not narrow. as a young man he must have had much endurance, for on one of the shore excursions from the "beagle", when all were suffering from want of water, he was one of the two who were better able than the rest to struggle on in search of it. as a boy he was active, and could jump a bar placed at the height of the "adam's apple" in his neck. he walked with a swinging action, using a stick heavily shod with iron, which he struck loudly against the ground, producing as he went round the "sand-walk" at down, a rhythmical click which is with all of us a very distinct remembrance. as he returned from the midday walk, often carrying the waterproof or cloak which had proved too hot, one could see that the swinging step was kept up by something of an effort. indoors his step was often slow and laboured, and as he went upstairs in the afternoon he might be heard mounting the stairs with a heavy footfall, as if each step were an effort. when interested in his work he moved about quickly and easily enough, and often in the middle of dictating he went eagerly into the hall to get a pinch of snuff, leaving the study door open, and calling out the last words of his sentence as he went. indoors he sometimes used an oak stick like a little alpenstock, and this was a sign that he felt giddiness. in spite of his strength and activity, i think he must always have had a clumsiness of movement. he was naturally awkward with his hands, and was unable to draw at all well. (the figure representing the aggregated cell-contents in 'insectivorous plants' was drawn by him.) this he always regretted much, and he frequently urged the paramount necessity of a young naturalist making himself a good draughtsman. he could dissect well under the simple microscope, but i think it was by dint of his great patience and carefulness. it was characteristic of him that he thought many little bits of skilful dissection something almost superhuman. he used to speak with admiration of the skill with which he saw newport dissect a humble bee, getting out the nervous system with a few cuts of a fine pair of scissors, held, as my father used to show, with the elbow raised, and in an attitude which certainly would render great steadiness necessary. he used to consider cutting sections a great feat, and in the last year of his life, with wonderful energy, took the pains to learn to cut sections of roots and leaves. his hand was not steady enough to hold the object to be cut, and he employed a common microtome, in which the pith for holding the object was clamped, and the razor slid on a glass surface in making the sections. he used to laugh at himself, and at his own skill in section-cutting, at which he would say he was "speechless with admiration." on the other hand, he must have had accuracy of eye and power of co-ordinating his movements, since he was a good shot with a gun as a young man, and as a boy was skilful in throwing. he once killed a hare sitting in the flower-garden at shrewsbury by throwing a marble at it, and, as a man, he once killed a cross-beak with a stone. he was so unhappy at having uselessly killed the cross-beak that he did not mention it for years, and then explained that he should never have thrown at it if he had not felt sure that his old skill had gone from him. when walking he had a fidgetting movement with his fingers, which he has described in one of his books as the habit of an old man. when he sat still he often took hold of one wrist with the other hand; he sat with his legs crossed, and from being so thin they could be crossed very far, as may be seen in one of the photographs. he had his chair in the study and in the drawing-room raised so as to be much higher than ordinary chairs; this was done because sitting on a low or even an ordinary chair caused him some discomfort. we used to laugh at him for making his tall drawing-room chair still higher by putting footstools on it, and then neutralising the result by resting his feet on another chair. his beard was full and almost untrimmed, the hair being grey and white, fine rather than coarse, and wavy or frizzled. his moustache was somewhat disfigured by being cut short and square across. he became very bald, having only a fringe of dark hair behind. his face was ruddy in colour, and this perhaps made people think him less of an invalid than he was. he wrote to dr. hooker (june , ), "every one tells me that i look quite blooming and beautiful; and most think i am shamming, but you have never been one of those." and it must be remembered that at this time he was miserably ill, far worse than in later years. his eyes were bluish grey under deep overhanging brows, with thick bushy projecting eyebrows. his high forehead was much wrinkled, but otherwise his face was not much marked or lined. his expression showed no signs of the continual discomfort he suffered. when he was excited with pleasant talk his whole manner was wonderfully bright and animated, and his face shared to the full in the general animation. his laugh was a free and sounding peal, like that of a man who gives himself sympathetically and with enjoyment to the person and the thing which have amused him. he often used some sort of gesture with his laugh, lifting up his hands or bringing one down with a slap. i think, generally speaking, he was given to gesture, and often used his hands in explaining anything (e.g. the fertilisation of a flower) in a way that seemed rather an aid to himself than to the listener. he did this on occasions when most people would illustrate their explanations by means of a rough pencil sketch. he wore dark clothes, of a loose and easy fit. of late years he gave up the tall hat even in london, and wore a soft black one in winter, and a big straw hat in summer. his usual out-of-doors dress was the short cloak in which elliot and fry's photograph represents him leaning against the pillar of the verandah. two peculiarities of his indoor dress were that he almost always wore a shawl over his shoulders, and that he had great loose cloth boots lined with fur which he could slip on over his indoor shoes. like most delicate people he suffered from heat as well as from chilliness; it was as if he could not hit the balance between too hot and too cold; often a mental cause would make him too hot, so that he would take off his coat if anything went wrong in the course of his work. he rose early, chiefly because he could not lie in bed, and i think he would have liked to get up earlier than he did. he took a short turn before breakfast, a habit which began when he went for the first time to a water-cure establishment. this habit he kept up till almost the end of his life. i used, as a little boy, to like going out with him, and i have a vague sense of the red of the winter sunrise, and a recollection of the pleasant companionship, and a certain honour and glory in it. he used to delight me as a boy by telling me how, in still earlier walks, on dark winter mornings, he had once or twice met foxes trotting home at the dawning. after breakfasting alone about . , he went to work at once, considering the / hour between and . one of his best working times. at . he came into the drawing-room for his letters--rejoicing if the post was a light one and being sometimes much worried if it was not. he would then hear any family letters read aloud as he lay on the sofa. the reading aloud, which also included part of a novel, lasted till about half-past ten, when he went back to work till twelve or a quarter past. by this time he considered his day's work over, and would often say, in a satisfied voice, "i've done a good day's work." he then went out of doors whether it was wet or fine; polly, his white terrier, went with him in fair weather, but in rain she refused or might be seen hesitating in the verandah, with a mixed expression of disgust and shame at her own want of courage; generally, however, her conscience carried the day, and as soon as he was evidently gone she could not bear to stay behind. my father was always fond of dogs, and as a young man had the power of stealing away the affections of his sister's pets; at cambridge, he won the love of his cousin w.d. fox's dog, and this may perhaps have been the little beast which used to creep down inside his bed and sleep at the foot every night. my father had a surly dog, who was devoted to him, but unfriendly to every one else, and when he came back from the "beagle" voyage, the dog remembered him, but in a curious way, which my father was fond of telling. he went into the yard and shouted in his old manner; the dog rushed out and set off with him on his walk, showing no more emotion or excitement than if the same thing had happened the day before, instead of five years ago. this story is made use of in the 'descent of man,' nd edition, page . in my memory there were only two dogs which had much connection with my father. one was a large black and white half-bred retriever, called bob, to which we, as children, were much devoted. he was the dog of whom the story of the "hot-house face" is told in the 'expression of the emotions.' but the dog most closely associated with my father was the above-mentioned polly, a rough, white fox-terrier. she was a sharp-witted, affectionate dog; when her master was going away on a journey, she always discovered the fact by the signs of packing going on in the study, and became low-spirited accordingly. she began, too, to be excited by seeing the study prepared for his return home. she was a cunning little creature, and used to tremble or put on an air of misery when my father passed, while she was waiting for dinner, just as if she knew that he would say (as he did often say) that "she was famishing." my father used to make her catch biscuits off her nose, and had an affectionate and mock-solemn way of explaining to her before-hand that she must "be a very good girl." she had a mark on her back where she had been burnt, and where the hair had re-grown red instead of white, and my father used to commend her for this tuft of hair as being in accordance with his theory of pangenesis; her father had been a red bull-terrier, thus the red hair appearing after the burn showed the presence of latent red gemmules. he was delightfully tender to polly, and never showed any impatience at the attentions she required, such as to be let in at the door, or out at the verandah window, to bark at "naughty people," a self-imposed duty she much enjoyed. she died, or rather had to be killed, a few days after his death. (the basket in which she usually lay curled up near the fire in his study is faithfully represented in mr. parson's drawing, "the study at down.") my father's midday walk generally began by a call at the greenhouse, where he looked at any germinating seeds or experimental plants which required a casual examination, but he hardly ever did any serious observing at this time. then he went on for his constitutional--either round the "sand-walk," or outside his own grounds in the immediate neighbourhood of the house. the "sand-walk" was a narrow strip of land / acres in extent, with a gravel-walk round it. on one side of it was a broad old shaw with fair-sized oaks in it, which made a sheltered shady walk; the other side was separated from a neighbouring grass field by a low quickset hedge, over which you could look at what view there was, a quiet little valley losing itself in the upland country towards the edge of the westerham hill, with hazel coppice and larch wood, the remnants of what was once a large wood, stretching away to the westerham road. i have heard my father say that the charm of this simple little valley helped to make him settle at down. the sand-walk was planted by my father with a variety of trees, such as hazel, alder, lime, hornbeam, birch, privet, and dogwood, and with a long line of hollies all down the exposed side. in earlier times he took a certain number of turns every day, and used to count them by means of a heap of flints, one of which he kicked out on the path each time he passed. of late years i think he did not keep to any fixed number of turns, but took as many as he felt strength for. the sand-walk was our play-ground as children, and here we continually saw my father as he walked round. he liked to see what we were doing, and was ever ready to sympathize in any fun that was going on. it is curious to think how, with regard to the sand-walk in connection with my father, my earliest recollections coincide with my latest; it shows how unvarying his habits have been. sometimes when alone he stood still or walked stealthily to observe birds or beasts. it was on one of these occasions that some young squirrels ran up his back and legs, while their mother barked at them in an agony from the tree. he always found birds' nests even up to the last years of his life, and we, as children, considered that he had a special genius in this direction. in his quiet prowls he came across the less common birds, but i fancy he used to conceal it from me, as a little boy, because he observed the agony of mind which i endured at not having seen the siskin or goldfinch, or whatever it might have been. he used to tell us how, when he was creeping noiselessly along in the "big-woods," he came upon a fox asleep in the daytime, which was so much astonished that it took a good stare at him before it ran off. a spitz dog which accompanied him showed no sign of excitement at the fox, and he used to end the story by wondering how the dog could have been so faint-hearted. another favourite place was "orchis bank," above the quiet cudham valley, where fly- and musk-orchis grew among the junipers, and cephalanthera and neottia under the beech boughs; the little wood "hangrove," just above this, he was also fond of, and here i remember his collecting grasses, when he took a fancy to make out the names of all the common kinds. he was fond of quoting the saying of one of his little boys, who, having found a grass that his father had not seen before, had it laid by his own plate during dinner, remarking, "i are an extraordinary grass-finder!" my father much enjoyed wandering slowly in the garden with my mother or some of his children, or making one of a party, sitting out on a bench on the lawn; he generally sat, however, on the grass, and i remember him often lying under one of the big lime-trees, with his head on the green mound at its foot. in dry summer weather, when we often sat out, the big fly-wheel of the well was commonly heard spinning round, and so the sound became associated with those pleasant days. he used to like to watch us playing at lawn-tennis, and often knocked up a stray ball for us with the curved handle of his stick. === though he took no personal share in the management of the garden, he had great delight in the beauty of flowers--for instance, in the mass of azaleas which generally stood in the drawing-room. i think he sometimes fused together his admiration of the structure of a flower and of its intrinsic beauty; for instance, in the case of the big pendulous pink and white flowers of dielytra. in the same way he had an affection, half-artistic, half-botanical, for the little blue lobelia. in admiring flowers, he would often laugh at the dingy high-art colours, and contrast them with the bright tints of nature. i used to like to hear him admire the beauty of a flower; it was a kind of gratitude to the flower itself, and a personal love for its delicate form and colour. i seem to remember him gently touching a flower he delighted in; it was the same simple admiration that a child might have. he could not help personifying natural things. this feeling came out in abuse as well as in praise--e.g. of some seedlings--"the little beggars are doing just what i don't want them to." he would speak in a half-provoked, half-admiring way of the ingenuity of a mimosa leaf in screwing itself out of a basin of water in which he had tried to fix it. one must see the same spirit in his way of speaking of sundew, earth-worms, etc. (cf. leslie stephen's 'swift,' , page , where swift's inspection of the manners and customs of servants are compared to my father's observations on worms, "the difference is," says mr. stephen, "that darwin had none but kindly feelings for worms.") within my memory, his only outdoor recreation, besides walking, was riding, which he took to on the recommendation of dr. bence jones, and we had the luck to find for him the easiest and quietest cob in the world, named "tommy." he enjoyed these rides extremely, and devised a number of short rounds which brought him home in time for lunch. our country is good for this purpose, owing to the number of small valleys which give a variety to what in a flat country would be a dull loop of road. he was not, i think, naturally fond of horses, nor had he a high opinion of their intelligence, and tommy was often laughed at for the alarm he showed at passing and repassing the same heap of hedge-clippings as he went round the field. i think he used to feel surprised at himself, when he remembered how bold a rider he had been, and how utterly old age and bad health had taken away his nerve. he would say that riding prevented him thinking much more effectually than walking--that having to attend to the horse gave him occupation sufficient to prevent any really hard thinking. and the change of scene which it gave him was good for spirits and health. unluckily, tommy one day fell heavily with him on keston common. this, and an accident with another horse, upset his nerves, and he was advised to give up riding. if i go beyond my own experience, and recall what i have heard him say of his love for sport, etc., i can think of a good deal, but much of it would be a repetition of what is contained in his 'recollections.' at school he was fond of bat-fives, and this was the only game at which he was skilful. he was fond of his gun as quite a boy, and became a good shot; he used to tell how in south america he killed twenty-three snipe in twenty-four shots. in telling the story he was careful to add that he thought they were not quite so wild as english snipe. luncheon at down came after his midday walk; and here i may say a word or two about his meals generally. he had a boy-like love of sweets, unluckily for himself, since he was constantly forbidden to take them. he was not particularly successful in keeping the "vows," as he called them, which he made against eating sweets, and never considered them binding unless he made them aloud. he drank very little wine, but enjoyed, and was revived by, the little he did drink. he had a horror of drinking, and constantly warned his boys that any one might be led into drinking too much. i remember, in my innocence as a small boy, asking him if he had been ever tipsy; and he answered very gravely that he was ashamed to say he had once drunk too much at cambridge. i was much impressed, so that i know now the place where the question was asked. after his lunch, he read the newspaper, lying on the sofa in the drawing-room. i think the paper was the only non-scientific matter which he read to himself. everything else, novels, travels, history, was read aloud to him. he took so wide an interest in life, that there was much to occupy him in newspapers, though he laughed at the wordiness of the debates; reading them, i think, only in abstract. his interest in politics was considerable, but his opinion on these matters was formed rather by the way than with any serious amount of thought. after he read his paper, came his time for writing letters. these, as well as the ms. of his books, were written by him as he sat in a huge horse-hair chair by the fire, his paper supported on a board resting on the arms of the chair. when he had many or long letters to write, he would dictate them from a rough copy; these rough copies were written on the backs of manuscript or of proof-sheets, and were almost illegible, sometimes even to himself. he made a rule of keeping all letters that he received; this was a habit which he learnt from his father, and which he said had been of great use to him. he received many letters from foolish, unscrupulous people, and all of these received replies. he used to say that if he did not answer them, he had it on his conscience afterwards, and no doubt it was in great measure the courtesy with which he answered every one, which produced the universal and widespread sense of his kindness of nature, which was so evident on his death. he was considerate to his correspondents in other and lesser things, for instance when dictating a letter to a foreigner he hardly ever failed to say to me, "you'd better try and write well, as it's to a foreigner." his letters were generally written on the assumption that they would be carelessly read; thus, when he was dictating, he was careful to tell me to make an important clause begin with an obvious paragraph "to catch his eye," as he often said. how much he thought of the trouble he gave others by asking questions, will be well enough shown by his letters. it is difficult to say anything about the general tone of his letters, they will speak for themselves. the unvarying courtesy of them is very striking. i had a proof of this quality in the feeling with which mr. hacon, his solicitor, regarded him. he had never seen my father, yet had a sincere feeling of friendship for him, and spoke especially of his letters as being such as a man seldom receives in the way of business:--"everything i did was right, and everything was profusely thanked for." he had a printed form to be used in replying to troublesome correspondents, but he hardly ever used it; i suppose he never found an occasion that seemed exactly suitable. i remember an occasion on which it might have been used with advantage. he received a letter from a stranger stating that the writer had undertaken to uphold evolution at a debating society, and that being a busy young man, without time for reading, he wished to have a sketch of my father's views. even this wonderful young man got a civil answer, though i think he did not get much material for his speech. his rule was to thank the donors of books, but not of pamphlets. he sometimes expressed surprise that so few people thanked him for his books which he gave away liberally; the letters that he did receive gave him much pleasure, because he habitually formed so humble an estimate of the value of all his works, that he was generally surprised at the interest which they excited. in money and business matters he was remarkably careful and exact. he kept accounts with great care, classifying them, and balancing at the end of the year like a merchant. i remember the quick way in which he would reach out for his account-book to enter each cheque paid, as though he were in a hurry to get it entered before he had forgotten it. his father must have allowed him to believe that he would be poorer than he really was, for some of the difficulty experienced in finding a house in the country must have arisen from the modest sum he felt prepared to give. yet he knew, of course, that he would be in easy circumstances, for in his 'recollections' he mentions this as one of the reasons for his not having worked at medicine with so much zeal as he would have done if he had been obliged to gain his living. he had a pet economy in paper, but it was rather a hobby than a real economy. all the blank sheets of letters received were kept in a portfolio to be used in making notes; it was his respect for paper that made him write so much on the backs of his old ms., and in this way, unfortunately, he destroyed large parts of the original ms. of his books. his feeling about paper extended to waste paper, and he objected, half in fun, to the careless custom of throwing a spill into the fire after it had been used for lighting a candle. my father was wonderfully liberal and generous to all his children in the matter of money, and i have special cause to remember his kindness when i think of the way in which he paid some cambridge debts of mine--making it almost seem a virtue in me to have told him of them. in his later years he had the kind and generous plan of dividing his surplus at the year's end among his children. he had a great respect for pure business capacity, and often spoke with admiration of a relative who had doubled his fortune. and of himself would often say in fun that what he really was proud of was the money he had saved. he also felt satisfaction in the money he made by his books. his anxiety to save came in a great measure from his fears that his children would not have health enough to earn their own livings, a foreboding which fairly haunted him for many years. and i have a dim recollection of his saying, "thank god, you'll have bread and cheese," when i was so young that i was rather inclined to take it literally. when letters were finished, about three in the afternoon, he rested in his bedroom, lying on the sofa and smoking a cigarette, and listening to a novel or other book not scientific. he only smoked when resting, whereas snuff was a stimulant, and was taken during working hours. he took snuff for many years of his life, having learnt the habit at edinburgh as a student. he had a nice silver snuff-box given him by mrs. wedgwood of maer, which he valued much--but he rarely carried it, because it tempted him to take too many pinches. in one of his early letters he speaks of having given up snuff for a month, and describes himself as feeling "most lethargic, stupid, and melancholy." our former neighbour and clergyman, mr. brodie innes, tells me that at one time my father made a resolve not to take snuff except away from home, "a most satisfactory arrangement for me," he adds, "as i kept a box in my study to which there was access from the garden without summoning servants, and i had more frequently, than might have been otherwise the case, the privilege of a few minutes' conversation with my dear friend." he generally took snuff from a jar on the hall table, because having to go this distance for a pinch was a slight check; the clink of the lid of the snuff jar was a very familiar sound. sometimes when he was in the drawing-room, it would occur to him that the study fire must be burning low, and when some of us offered to see after it, it would turn out that he also wished to get a pinch of snuff. smoking he only took to permanently of late years, though on his pampas rides he learned to smoke with the gauchos, and i have heard him speak of the great comfort of a cup of mate and a cigarette when he halted after a long ride and was unable to get food for some time. the reading aloud often sent him to sleep, and he used to regret losing parts of a novel, for my mother went steadily on lest the cessation of the sound might wake him. he came down at four o'clock to dress for his walk, and he was so regular that one might be quite certain it was within a few minutes of four when his descending steps were heard. from about half-past four to half-past five he worked; then he came to the drawing-room, and was idle till it was time (about six) to go up for another rest with novel-reading and a cigarette. latterly he gave up late dinner, and had a simple tea at half-past seven (while we had dinner), with an egg or a small piece of meat. after dinner he never stayed in the room, and used to apologise by saying he was an old woman, who must be allowed to leave with the ladies. this was one of the many signs and results of his constant weakness and ill-health. half an hour more or less conversation would make to him the difference of a sleepless night, and of the loss perhaps of half the next day's work. after dinner he played backgammon with my mother, two games being played every night; for many years a score of the games which each won was kept, and in this score he took the greatest interest. he became extremely animated over these games, bitterly lamenting his bad luck and exploding with exaggerated mock-anger at my mother's good fortune. after backgammon he read some scientific book to himself, either in the drawing-room, or, if much talking was going on, in the study. in the evening, that is, after he had read as much as his strength would allow, and before the reading aloud began, he would often lie on the sofa and listen to my mother playing the piano. he had not a good ear, yet in spite of this he had a true love of fine music. he used to lament that his enjoyment of music had become dulled with age, yet within my recollection, his love of a good tune was strong. i never heard him hum more than one tune, the welsh song "ar hyd y nos," which he went through correctly; he used also, i believe, to hum a little otaheitan song. from his want of ear he was unable to recognize a tune when he heard it again, but he remained constant to what he liked, and would often say, when an old favourite was played, "that's a fine thing; what is it?" he liked especially parts of beethoven's symphonies, and bits of handel. he made a little list of all the pieces which he especially liked among those which my mother played--giving in a few words the impression that each one made on him--but these notes are unfortunately lost. he was sensitive to differences in style, and enjoyed the late mrs. vernon lushington's playing intensely, and in june , when hans richter paid a visit at down, he was roused to strong enthusiasm by his magnificent performance on the piano. he much enjoyed good singing, and was moved almost to tears by grand or pathetic songs. his niece lady farrer's singing of sullivan's "will he come" was a never-failing enjoyment to him. he was humble in the extreme about his own taste, and correspondingly pleased when he found that others agreed with him. he became much tired in the evenings, especially of late years, when he left the drawing-room about ten, going to bed at half-past ten. his nights were generally bad, and he often lay awake or sat up in bed for hours, suffering much discomfort. he was troubled at night by the activity of his thoughts, and would become exhausted by his mind working at some problem which he would willingly have dismissed. at night, too, anything which had vexed or troubled him in the day would haunt him, and i think it was then that he suffered if he had not answered some troublesome person's letter. the regular readings, which i have mentioned, continued for so many years, enabled him to get through a great deal of lighter kinds of literature. he was extremely fond of novels, and i remember well the way in which he would anticipate the pleasure of having a novel read to him, as he lay down, or lighted his cigarette. he took a vivid interest both in plot and characters, and would on no account know beforehand, how a story finished; he considered looking at the end of a novel as a feminine vice. he could not enjoy any story with a tragical end, for this reason he did not keenly appreciate george eliot, though he often spoke warmly in praise of 'silas marner.' walter scott, miss austen, and mrs. gaskell, were read and re-read till they could be read no more. he had two or three books in hand at the same time--a novel and perhaps a biography and a book of travels. he did not often read out-of-the-way or old standard books, but generally kept to the books of the day obtained from a circulating library. i do not think that his literary tastes and opinions were on a level with the rest of his mind. he himself, though he was clear as to what he thought good, considered that in matters of literary taste, he was quite outside the pale, and often spoke of what those within it liked or disliked, as if they formed a class to which he had no claim to belong. in all matters of art he was inclined to laugh at professed critics, and say that their opinions were formed by fashion. thus in painting, he would say how in his day every one admired masters who are now neglected. his love of pictures as a young man is almost a proof that he must have had an appreciation of a portrait as a work of art, not as a likeness. yet he often talked laughingly of the small worth of portraits, and said that a photograph was worth any number of pictures, as if he were blind to the artistic quality in a painted portrait. but this was generally said in his attempts to persuade us to give up the idea of having his portrait painted, an operation very irksome to him. this way of looking at himself as an ignoramus in all matters of art, was strengthened by the absence of pretence, which was part of his character. with regard to questions of taste, as well as to more serious things, he always had the courage of his opinions. i remember, however, an instance that sounds like a contradiction to this: when he was looking at the turners in mr. ruskin's bedroom, he did not confess, as he did afterwards, that he could make out absolutely nothing of what mr. ruskin saw in them. but this little pretence was not for his own sake, but for the sake of courtesy to his host. he was pleased and amused when subsequently mr. ruskin brought him some photographs of pictures (i think vandyke portraits), and courteously seemed to value my father's opinion about them. much of his scientific reading was in german, and this was a great labour to him; in reading a book after him, i was often struck at seeing, from the pencil-marks made each day where he left off, how little he could read at a time. he used to call german the "verdammte," pronounced as if in english. he was especially indignant with germans, because he was convinced that they could write simply if they chose, and often praised dr. f. hildebrand for writing german which was as clear as french. he sometimes gave a german sentence to a friend, a patriotic german lady, and used to laugh at her if she did not translate it fluently. he himself learnt german simply by hammering away with a dictionary; he would say that his only way was to read a sentence a great many times over, and at last the meaning occurred to him. when he began german long ago, he boasted of the fact (as he used to tell) to sir j. hooker, who replied, "ah, my dear fellow, that's nothing; i've begun it many times." in spite of his want of grammar, he managed to get on wonderfully with german, and the sentences that he failed to make out were generally really difficult ones. he never attempted to speak german correctly, but pronounced the words as though they were english; and this made it not a little difficult to help him, when he read out a german sentence and asked for a translation. he certainly had a bad ear for vocal sounds, so that he found it impossible to perceive small differences in pronunciation. his wide interest in branches of science that were not specially his own was remarkable. in the biological sciences his doctrines make themselves felt so widely that there was something interesting to him in most departments of it. he read a good deal of many quite special works, and large parts of text books, such as huxley's 'invertebrate anatomy,' or such a book as balfour's 'embryology,' where the detail, at any rate, was not specially in his own line. and in the case of elaborate books of the monograph type, though he did not make a study of them, yet he felt the strongest admiration for them. in the non-biological sciences he felt keen sympathy with work of which he could not really judge. for instance, he used to read nearly the whole of 'nature,' though so much of it deals with mathematics and physics. i have often heard him say that he got a kind of satisfaction in reading articles which (according to himself) he could not understand. i wish i could reproduce the manner in which he would laugh at himself for it. it was remarkable, too, how he kept up his interest in subjects at which he had formerly worked. this was strikingly the case with geology. in one of his letters to mr. judd he begs him to pay him a visit, saying that since lyell's death he hardly ever gets a geological talk. his observations, made only a few years before his death, on the upright pebbles in the drift at southampton, and discussed in a letter to mr. geikie, afford another instance. again, in the letters to dr. dohrn, he shows how his interest in barnacles remained alive. i think it was all due to the vitality and persistence of his mind--a quality i have heard him speak of as if he felt that he was strongly gifted in that respect. not that he used any such phrases as these about himself, but he would say that he had the power of keeping a subject or question more or less before him for a great many years. the extent to which he possessed this power appears when we consider the number of different problems which he solved, and the early period at which some of them began to occupy him. it was a sure sign that he was not well when he was idle at any times other than his regular resting hours; for, as long as he remained moderately well, there was no break in the regularity of his life. week-days and sundays passed by alike, each with their stated intervals of work and rest. it is almost impossible, except for those who watched his daily life, to realise how essential to his well-being was the regular routine that i have sketched: and with what pain and difficulty anything beyond it was attempted. any public appearance, even of the most modest kind, was an effort to him. in he went to the little village church for the wedding of his elder daughter, but he could hardly bear the fatigue of being present through the short service. the same may be said of the few other occasions on which he was present at similar ceremonies. i remember him many years ago at a christening; a memory which has remained with me, because to us children it seemed an extraordinary and abnormal occurrence. i remember his look most distinctly at his brother erasmus's funeral, as he stood in the scattering of snow, wrapped in a long black funeral cloak, with a grave look of sad reverie. when, after an interval of many years, he again attended a meeting of the linnean society, it was felt to be, and was in fact, a serious undertaking; one not to be determined on without much sinking of heart, and hardly to be carried into effect without paying a penalty of subsequent suffering. in the same way a breakfast-party at sir james paget's, with some of the distinguished visitors to the medical congress ( ), was to him a severe exertion. the early morning was the only time at which he could make any effort of the kind, with comparative impunity. thus it came about that the visits he paid to his scientific friends in london were by preference made as early as ten in the morning. for the same reason he started on his journeys by the earliest possible train, and used to arrive at the houses of relatives in london when they were beginning their day. he kept an accurate journal of the days on which he worked and those on which his ill health prevented him from working, so that it would be possible to tell how many were idle days in any given year. in this journal--a little yellow lett's diary, which lay open on his mantel-piece, piled on the diaries of previous years--he also entered the day on which he started for a holiday and that of his return. the most frequent holidays were visits of a week to london, either to his brother's house ( queen anne street), or to his daughter's ( bryanston street). he was generally persuaded by my mother to take these short holidays, when it became clear from the frequency of "bad days," or from the swimming of his head, that he was being overworked. he went unwillingly, and tried to drive hard bargains, stipulating, for instance, that he should come home in five days instead of six. even if he were leaving home for no more than a week, the packing had to be begun early on the previous day, and the chief part of it he would do himself. the discomfort of a journey to him was, at least latterly, chiefly in the anticipation, and in the miserable sinking feeling from which he suffered immediately before the start; even a fairly long journey, such as that to coniston, tired him wonderfully little, considering how much an invalid he was; and he certainly enjoyed it in an almost boyish way, and to a curious extent. although, as he has said, some of his aesthetic tastes had suffered a gradual decay, his love of scenery remained fresh and strong. every walk at coniston was a fresh delight, and he was never tired of praising the beauty of the broken hilly country at the head of the lake. one of the happy memories of this time [ ] is that of a delightful visit to grasmere: "the perfect day," my sister writes, "and my father's vivid enjoyment and flow of spirits, form a picture in my mind that i like to think of. he could hardly sit still in the carriage for turning round and getting up to admire the view from each fresh point, and even in returning he was full of the beauty of rydal water, though he would not allow that grasmere at all equalled his beloved coniston." besides these longer holidays, there were shorter visits to various relatives--to his brother-in-law's house, close to leith hill, and to his son near southampton. he always particularly enjoyed rambling over rough open country, such as the commons near leith hill and southampton, the heath-covered wastes of ashdown forest, or the delightful "rough" near the house of his friend sir thomas farrer. he never was quite idle even on these holidays, and found things to observe. at hartfield he watched drosera catching insects, etc.; at torquay he observed the fertilisation of an orchid (spiranthes), and also made out the relations of the sexes in thyme. he was always rejoiced to get home after his holidays; he used greatly to enjoy the welcome he got from his dog polly, who would get wild with excitement, panting, squeaking, rushing round the room, and jumping on and off the chairs; and he used to stoop down, pressing her face to his, letting her lick him, and speaking to her with a peculiarly tender, caressing voice. my father had the power of giving to these summer holidays a charm which was strongly felt by all his family. the pressure of his work at home kept him at the utmost stretch of his powers of endurance, and when released from it, he entered on a holiday with a youthfulness of enjoyment that made his companionship delightful; we felt that we saw more of him in a week's holiday than in a month at home. some of these absences from home, however, had a depressing effect on him; when he had been previously much overworked it seemed as though the absence of the customary strain allowed him to fall into a peculiar condition of miserable health. besides the holidays which i have mentioned, there were his visits to water-cure establishments. in , when very ill, suffering from constant sickness, he was urged by a friend to try the water-cure, and at last agreed to go to dr. gully's establishment at malvern. his letters to mr. fox show how much good the treatment did him; he seems to have thought that he had found a cure for his troubles, but, like all other remedies, it had only a transient effect on him. however, he found it, at first, so good for him that when he came home he built himself a douche-bath, and the butler learnt to be his bathman. he paid many visits to moor park, dr. lane's water-cure establishment in surrey, not far from aldershot. these visits were pleasant ones, and he always looked back to them with pleasure. dr. lane has given his recollections of my father in dr. richardson's 'lecture on charles darwin,' october , , from which i quote:-- "in a public institution like mine, he was surrounded, of course, by multifarious types of character, by persons of both sexes, mostly very different from himself--commonplace people, in short, as the majority are everywhere, but like to him at least in this, that they were fellow-creatures and fellow-patients. and never was any one more genial, more considerate, more friendly, more altogether charming than he universally was."...he "never aimed, as too often happens with good talkers, at monopolising the conversation. it was his pleasure rather to give and take, and he was as good a listener as a speaker. he never preached nor prosed, but his talk, whether grave or gay (and it was each by turns), was full of life and salt--racy, bright, and animated." some idea of his relation to his family and his friends may be gathered from what has gone before; it would be impossible to attempt a complete account of these relationships, but a slightly fuller outline may not be out of place. of his married life i cannot speak, save in the briefest manner. in his relationship towards my mother, his tender and sympathetic nature was shown in its most beautiful aspect. in her presence he found his happiness, and through her, his life,--which might have been overshadowed by gloom,--became one of content and quiet gladness. the 'expression of the emotions' shows how closely he watched his children; it was characteristic of him that (as i have heard him tell), although he was so anxious to observe accurately the expression of a crying child, his sympathy with the grief spoiled his observation. his note-book, in which are recorded sayings of his young children, shows his pleasure in them. he seemed to retain a sort of regretful memory of the childhoods which had faded away, and thus he wrote in his 'recollections':--"when you were very young it was my delight to play with you all, and i think with a sigh that such days can never return." i may quote, as showing the tenderness of his nature, some sentences from an account of his little daughter annie, written a few days after her death:-- "our poor child, annie, was born in gower street, on march , , and expired at malvern at mid-day on the rd of april, . "i write these few pages, as i think in after years, if we live, the impressions now put down will recall more vividly her chief characteristics. from whatever point i look back at her, the main feature in her disposition which at once rises before me, is her buoyant joyousness, tempered by two other characteristics, namely, her sensitiveness, which might easily have been overlooked by a stranger, and her strong affection. her joyousness and animal spirits radiated from her whole countenance, and rendered every movement elastic and full of life and vigour. it was delightful and cheerful to behold her. her dear face now rises before me, as she used sometimes to come running downstairs with a stolen pinch of snuff for me her whole form radiant with the pleasure of giving pleasure. even when playing with her cousins, when her joyousness almost passed into boisterousness, a single glance of my eye, not of displeasure (for i thank god i hardly ever cast one on her), but of want of sympathy, would for some minutes alter her whole countenance. "the other point in her character, which made her joyousness and spirits so delightful, was her strong affection, which was of a most clinging, fondling nature. when quite a baby, this showed itself in never being easy without touching her mother, when in bed with her; and quite lately she would, when poorly, fondle for any length of time one of her mother's arms. when very unwell, her mother lying down beside her seemed to soothe her in a manner quite different from what it would have done to any of our other children. so, again, she would at almost any time spend half an hour in arranging my hair, 'making it,' as she called it, 'beautiful,' or in smoothing, the poor dear darling, my collar or cuffs--in short, in fondling me. "beside her joyousness thus tempered, she was in her manners remarkably cordial, frank, open, straightforward, natural, and without any shade of reserve. her whole mind was pure and transparent. one felt one knew her thoroughly and could trust her. i always thought, that come what might, we should have had in our old age at least one loving soul which nothing could have changed. all her movements were vigorous, active, and usually graceful. when going round the sand-walk with me, although i walked fast, yet she often used to go before, pirouetting in the most elegant way, her dear face bright all the time with the sweetest smiles. occasionally she had a pretty coquettish manner towards me, the memory of which is charming. she often used exaggerated language, and when i quizzed her by exaggerating what she had said, how clearly can i now see the little toss of the head, and exclamation of 'oh, papa what a shame of you!' in the last short illness her conduct in simple truth was angelic. she never once complained; never became fretful; was ever considerate of others, and was thankful in the most gentle, pathetic manner for everything done for her. when so exhausted that she could hardly speak, she praised everything that was given her, and said some tea 'was beautifully good.' when i gave her some water she said, 'i quite thank you;' and these, i believe, were the last precious words ever addressed by her dear lips to me. "we have lost the joy of the household, and the solace of our old age. she must have known how we loved her. oh, that she could now know how deeply, how tenderly, we do still and shall ever love her dear joyous face! blessings on her! "april , ." we his children all took especial pleasure in the games he played at with us, but i do not think he romped much with us; i suppose his health prevented any rough play. he used sometimes to tell us stories, which were considered especially delightful, partly on account of their rarity. the way he brought us up is shown by a little story about my brother leonard, which my father was fond of telling. he came into the drawing-room and found leonard dancing about on the sofa, which was forbidden, for the sake of the springs, and said, "oh, lenny, lenny, that's against all rules," and received for answer, "then i think you'd better go out of the room." i do not believe he ever spoke an angry word to any of his children in his life; but i am certain that it never entered our heads to disobey him. i well remember one occasion when my father reproved me for a piece of carelessness; and i can still recall the feeling of depression which came over me, and the care which he took to disperse it by speaking to me soon afterwards with especial kindness. he kept up his delightful, affectionate manner towards us all his life. i sometimes wonder that he could do so, with such an undemonstrative race as we are; but i hope he knew how much we delighted in his loving words and manner. how often, when a man, i have wished when my father was behind my chair, that he would pass his hand over my hair, as he used to do when i was a boy. he allowed his grown-up children to laugh with and at him, and was, generally speaking, on terms of perfect equality with us. he was always full of interest about each one's plans or successes. we used to laugh at him, and say he would not believe in his sons, because, for instance, he would be a little doubtful about their taking some bit of work for which he did not feel sure that they had knowledge enough. on the other hand, he was only too much inclined to take a favourable view of our work. when i thought he had set too high a value on anything that i had done, he used to be indignant and inclined to explode in mock anger. his doubts were part of his humility concerning what was in any way connected with himself; his too favourable view of our work was due to his sympathetic nature, which made him lenient to every one. he kept up towards his children his delightful manner of expressing his thanks; and i never wrote a letter, or read a page aloud to him, without receiving a few kind words of recognition. his love and goodness towards his little grandson bernard were great; and he often spoke of the pleasure it was to him to see "his little face opposite to him" at luncheon. he and bernard used to compare their tastes; e.g., in liking brown sugar better than white, etc.; the result being, "we always agree, don't we?" my sister writes:-- "my first remembrances of my father are of the delights of his playing with us. he was passionately attached to his own children, although he was not an indiscriminate child-lover. to all of us he was the most delightful play-fellow, and the most perfect sympathiser. indeed it is impossible adequately to describe how delightful a relation his was to his family, whether as children or in their later life. "it is a proof of the terms on which we were, and also of how much he was valued as a play-fellow, that one of his sons when about four years old tried to bribe him with sixpence to come and play in working hours. we all knew the sacredness of working-time, but that any one should resist sixpence seemed an impossibility. "he must have been the most patient and delightful of nurses. i remember the haven of peace and comfort it seemed to me when i was unwell, to be tucked up on the study sofa, idly considering the old geological map hung on the wall. this must have been in his working hours, for i always picture him sitting in the horsehair arm-chair by the corner of the fire. "another mark of his unbounded patience was the way in which we were suffered to make raids into the study when we had an absolute need of sticking-plaster, string, pins, scissors, stamps, foot-rule, or hammer. these and other such necessaries were always to be found in the study, and it was the only place where this was a certainty. we used to feel it wrong to go in during work-time; still, when the necessity was great we did so. i remember his patient look when he said once, 'don't you think you could not come in again, i have been interrupted very often.' we used to dread going in for sticking-plaster, because he disliked to see that we had cut ourselves, both for our sakes and on account of his acute sensitiveness to the sight of blood. i well remember lurking about the passage till he was safe away, and then stealing in for the plaster. "life seems to me, as i look back upon it, to have been very regular in those early days, and except relations (and a few intimate friends), i do not think any one came to the house. after lessons, we were always free to go where we would, and that was chiefly in the drawing-room and about the garden, so that we were very much with both my father and mother. we used to think it most delightful when he told us any stories about the 'beagle', or about early shrewsbury days--little bits about school-life and his boyish tastes. sometimes too he read aloud to his children such books as scott's novels, and i remember a few little lectures on the steam-engine. "i was more or less ill during the five years between my thirteenth and eighteenth years, and for a long time (years it seems to me) he used to play a couple of games of backgammon with me every afternoon. he played them with the greatest spirit, and i remember we used at one time to keep account of the games, and as this record came out in favour of him, we kept a list of the doublets thrown by each, as i was convinced that he threw better than myself. "his patience and sympathy were boundless during this weary illness, and sometimes when most miserable i felt his sympathy to be almost too keen. when at my worst, we went to my aunt's house at hartfield, in sussex, and as soon as we had made the move safely he went on to moor park for a fortnight's water-cure. i can recall now how on his return i could hardly bear to have him in the room, the expression of tender sympathy and emotion in his face was too agitating, coming fresh upon me after his little absence. "he cared for all our pursuits and interests, and lived our lives with us in a way that very few fathers do. but i am certain that none of us felt that this intimacy interfered the least with our respect or obedience. whatever he said was absolute truth and law to us. he always put his whole mind into answering any of our questions. one trifling instance makes me feel how he cared for what we cared for. he had no special taste for cats, though he admired the pretty ways of a kitten. but yet he knew and remembered the individualities of my many cats, and would talk about the habits and characters of the more remarkable ones years after they had died. "another characteristic of his treatment of his children was his respect for their liberty, and for their personality. even as quite a girl, i remember rejoicing in this sense of freedom. our father and mother would not even wish to know what we were doing or thinking unless we wished to tell. he always made us feel that we were each of us creatures whose opinions and thoughts were valuable to him, so that whatever there was best in us came out in the sunshine of his presence. "i do not think his exaggerated sense of our good qualities, intellectual or moral, made us conceited, as might perhaps have been expected, but rather more humble and grateful to him. the reason being no doubt that the influence of his character, of his sincerity and greatness of nature, had a much deeper and more lasting effect than any small exaltation which his praises or admiration may have caused to our vanity." as head of a household he was much loved and respected; he always spoke to servants with politeness, using the expression, "would you be so good," in asking for anything. he was hardly ever angry with his servants; it shows how seldom this occurred, that when, as a small boy, i overheard a servant being scolded, and my father speaking angrily, it impressed me as an appalling circumstance, and i remember running up stairs out of a general sense of awe. he did not trouble himself about the management of the garden, cows, etc. he considered the horses so little his concern, that he used to ask doubtfully whether he might have a horse and cart to send to keston for drosera, or to the westerham nurseries for plants, or the like. as a host my father had a peculiar charm: the presence of visitors excited him, and made him appear to his best advantage. at shrewsbury, he used to say, it was his father's wish that the guests should be attended to constantly, and in one of the letters to fox he speaks of the impossibility of writing a letter while the house was full of company. i think he always felt uneasy at not doing more for the entertainment of his guests, but the result was successful; and, to make up for any loss, there was the gain that the guests felt perfectly free to do as they liked. the most usual visitors were those who stayed from saturday till monday; those who remained longer were generally relatives, and were considered to be rather more my mother's affair than his. besides these visitors, there were foreigners and other strangers, who came down for luncheon and went away in the afternoon. he used conscientiously to represent to them the enormous distance of down from london, and the labour it would be to come there, unconsciously taking for granted that they would find the journey as toilsome as he did himself. if, however, they were not deterred, he used to arrange their journeys for them, telling them when to come, and practically when to go. it was pleasant to see the way in which he shook hands with a guest who was being welcomed for the first time; his hand used to shoot out in a way that gave one the feeling that it was hastening to meet the guest's hands. with old friends his hand came down with a hearty swing into the other hand in a way i always had satisfaction in seeing. his good-bye was chiefly characterised by the pleasant way in which he thanked his guests, as he stood at the door, for having come to see him. these luncheons were very successful entertainments, there was no drag or flagging about them, my father was bright and excited throughout the whole visit. professor de candolle has described a visit to down, in his admirable and sympathetic sketch of my father. ('darwin considere au point de vue des causes de son succes.'--geneva, .) he speaks of his manner as resembling that of a "savant" of oxford or cambridge. this does not strike me as quite a good comparison; in his ease and naturalness there was more of the manner of some soldiers; a manner arising from total absence of pretence or affectation. it was this absence of pose, and the natural and simple way in which he began talking to his guests, so as to get them on their own lines, which made him so charming a host to a stranger. his happy choice of matter for talk seemed to flow out of his sympathetic nature, and humble, vivid interest in other people's work. to some, i think, he caused actual pain by his modesty; i have seen the late francis balfour quite discomposed by having knowledge ascribed to himself on a point about which my father claimed to be utterly ignorant. it is difficult to seize on the characteristics of my father's conversation. he had more dread than have most people of repeating his stories, and continually said, "you must have heard me tell," or "i dare say i've told you." one peculiarity he had, which gave a curious effect to his conversation. the first few words of a sentence would often remind him of some exception to, or some reason against, what he was going to say; and this again brought up some other point, so that the sentence would become a system of parenthesis within parenthesis, and it was often impossible to understand the drift of what he was saying until he came to the end of his sentence. he used to say of himself that he was not quick enough to hold an argument with any one, and i think this was true. unless it was a subject on which he was just then at work, he could not get the train of argument into working order quickly enough. this is shown even in his letters; thus, in the case of two letters to prof. semper about the effect of isolation, he did not recall the series of facts he wanted until some days after the first letter had been sent off. when puzzled in talking, he had a peculiar stammer on the first word of a sentence. i only recall this occurring with words beginning with w; possibly he had a special difficulty with this letter, for i have heard him say that as a boy he could not pronounce w, and that sixpence was offered him if he could say "white wine," which he pronounced "rite rine." possibly he may have inherited this tendency from erasmus darwin, who stammered. (my father related a johnsonian answer of erasmus darwin's: "don't you find it very inconvenient stammering, dr. darwin?" "no, sir, because i have time to think before i speak, and don't ask impertinent questions.") he sometimes combined his metaphors in a curious way, using such a phrase as "holding on like life,"--a mixture of "holding on for his life," and "holding on like grim death." it came from his eager way of putting emphasis into what he was saying. this sometimes gave an air of exaggeration where it was not intended; but it gave, too, a noble air of strong and generous conviction; as, for instance, when he gave his evidence before the royal commission on vivisection and came out with his words about cruelty, "it deserves detestation and abhorrence." when he felt strongly about any similar question, he could hardly trust himself to speak, as he then easily became angry, a thing which he disliked excessively. he was conscious that his anger had a tendency to multiply itself in the utterance, and for this reason dreaded (for example) having to scold a servant. it was a great proof of the modesty of his style of talking, that, when, for instance, a number of visitors came over from sir john lubbock's for a sunday afternoon call he never seemed to be preaching or lecturing, although he had so much of the talk to himself. he was particularly charming when "chaffing" any one, and in high spirits over it. his manner at such times was light-hearted and boyish, and his refinement of nature came out most strongly. so, when he was talking to a lady who pleased and amused him, the combination of raillery and deference in his manner was delightful to see. when my father had several guests he managed them well, getting a talk with each, or bringing two or three together round his chair. in these conversations there was always a good deal of fun, and, speaking generally, there was either a humorous turn in his talk, or a sunny geniality which served instead. perhaps my recollection of a pervading element of humour is the more vivid, because the best talks were with mr. huxley, in whom there is the aptness which is akin to humour, even when humour itself is not there. my father enjoyed mr. huxley's humour exceedingly, and would often say, "what splendid fun huxley is!" i think he probably had more scientific argument (of the nature of a fight) with lyell and sir joseph hooker. he used to say that it grieved him to find that for the friends of his later life he had not the warm affection of his youth. certainly in his early letters from cambridge he gives proofs of very strong friendship for herbert and fox; but no one except himself would have said that his affection for his friends was not, throughout life, of the warmest possible kind. in serving a friend he would not spare himself, and precious time and strength were willingly given. he undoubtedly had, to an unusual degree, the power of attaching his friends to him. he had many warm friendships, but to sir joseph hooker he was bound by ties of affection stronger than we often see among men. he wrote in his 'recollections,' "i have known hardly any man more lovable than hooker." his relationship to the village people was a pleasant one; he treated them, one and all, with courtesy, when he came in contact with them, and took an interest in all relating to their welfare. some time after he came to live at down he helped to found a friendly club, and served as treasurer for thirty years. he took much trouble about the club, keeping its accounts with minute and scrupulous exactness, and taking pleasure in its prosperous condition. every whit-monday the club used to march round with band and banner, and paraded on the lawn in front of the house. there he met them, and explained to them their financial position in a little speech seasoned with a few well worn jokes. he was often unwell enough to make even this little ceremony an exertion, but i think he never failed to meet them. he was also treasurer of the coal club, which gave him some work, and he acted for some years as a county magistrate. with regard to my father's interest in the affairs of the village, mr. brodie innes has been so good as to give me his recollections:-- "on my becoming vicar of down in , we became friends, and so continued till his death. his conduct towards me and my family was one of unvarying kindness, and we repaid it by warm affection. "in all parish matters he was an active assistant; in matters connected with the schools, charities, and other business, his liberal contribution was ever ready, and in the differences which at times occurred in that, as in other parishes, i was always sure of his support. he held that where there was really no important objection, his assistance should be given to the clergyman, who ought to know the circumstances best, and was chiefly responsible." his intercourse with strangers was marked with scrupulous and rather formal politeness, but in fact he had few opportunities of meeting strangers. dr. lane has described (lecture by dr. b.w. richardson, in st. george's hall, october , .) how, on the rare occasion of my father attending a lecture (dr. sanderson's) at the royal institution, "the whole assembly...rose to their feet to welcome him," while he seemed "scarcely conscious that such an outburst of applause could possibly be intended for himself." the quiet life he led at down made him feel confused in a large society; for instance, at the royal society's soirees he felt oppressed by the numbers. the feeling that he ought to know people, and the difficulty he had in remembering faces in his latter years, also added to his discomfort on such occasions. he did not realise that he would be recognised from his photographs, and i remember his being uneasy at being obviously recognised by a stranger at the crystal palace aquarium. i must say something of his manner of working: one characteristic of it was his respect for time; he never forgot how precious it was. this was shown, for instance, in the way in which he tried to curtail his holidays; also, and more clearly, with respect to shorter periods. he would often say, that saving the minutes was the way to get work done; he showed his love of saving the minutes in the difference he felt between a quarter of an hour and ten minutes' work; he never wasted a few spare minutes from thinking that it was not worth while to set to work. i was often struck by his way of working up to the very limit of his strength, so that he suddenly stopped in dictating, with the words, "i believe i mustn't do any more." the same eager desire not to lose time was seen in his quick movements when at work. i particularly remember noticing this when he was making an experiment on the roots of beans, which required some care in manipulation; fastening the little bits of card upon the roots was done carefully and necessarily slowly, but the intermediate movements were all quick; taking a fresh bean, seeing that the root was healthy, impaling it on a pin, fixing it on a cork, and seeing that it was vertical, etc; all these processes were performed with a kind of restrained eagerness. he always gave one the impression of working with pleasure, and not with any drag. i have an image, too, of him as he recorded the result of some experiment, looking eagerly at each root, etc., and then writing with equal eagerness. i remember the quick movement of his head up and down as he looked from the object to the notes. he saved a great deal of time through not having to do things twice. although he would patiently go on repeating experiments where there was any good to be gained, he could not endure having to repeat an experiment which ought, if complete care had been taken, to have succeeded the first time--and this gave him a continual anxiety that the experiment should not be wasted; he felt the experiment to be sacred, however slight a one it was. he wished to learn as much as possible from an experiment, so that he did not confine himself to observing the single point to which the experiment was directed, and his power of seeing a number of other things was wonderful. i do not think he cared for preliminary or rough observation intended to serve as guides and to be repeated. any experiment done was to be of some use, and in this connection i remember how strongly he urged the necessity of keeping the notes of experiments which failed, and to this rule he always adhered. in the literary part of his work he had the same horror of losing time, and the same zeal in what he was doing at the moment, and this made him careful not to be obliged unnecessarily to read anything a second time. his natural tendency was to use simple methods and few instruments. the use of the compound microscope has much increased since his youth, and this at the expense of the simple one. it strikes us nowadays as extraordinary that he should have had no compound microscope when he went his "beagle" voyage; but in this he followed the advice of robt. brown, who was an authority in such matters. he always had a great liking for the simple microscope, and maintained that nowadays it was too much neglected, and that one ought always to see as much as possible with the simple before taking to the compound microscope. in one of his letters he speaks on this point, and remarks that he always suspects the work of a man who never uses the simple microscope. his dissecting table was a thick board, let into a window of the study; it was lower than an ordinary table, so that he could not have worked at it standing; but this, from wishing to save his strength, he would not have done in any case. he sat at his dissecting-table on a curious low stool which had belonged to his father, with a seat revolving on a vertical spindle, and mounted on large castors, so that he could turn easily from side to side. his ordinary tools, etc., were lying about on the table, but besides these a number of odds and ends were kept in a round table full of radiating drawers, and turning on a vertical axis, which stood close by his left side, as he sat at his microscope-table. the drawers were labelled, "best tools," "rough tools," "specimens," "preparations for specimens," etc. the most marked peculiarity of the contents of these drawers was the care with which little scraps and almost useless things were preserved; he held the well-known belief, that if you threw a thing away you were sure to want it directly--and so things accumulated. if any one had looked at his tools, etc., lying on the table, he would have been struck by an air of simpleness, make-shift, and oddness. at his right hand were shelves, with a number of other odds and ends, glasses, saucers, tin biscuit boxes for germinating seeds, zinc labels, saucers full of sand, etc., etc. considering how tidy and methodical he was in essential things, it is curious that he bore with so many make-shifts: for instance, instead of having a box made of a desired shape, and stained black inside, he would hunt up something like what he wanted and get it darkened inside with shoe-blacking; he did not care to have glass covers made for tumblers in which he germinated seeds, but used broken bits of irregular shape, with perhaps a narrow angle sticking uselessly out on one side. but so much of his experimenting was of a simple kind, that he had no need for any elaboration, and i think his habit in this respect was in great measure due to his desire to husband his strength, and not waste it on inessential things. his way of marking objects may here be mentioned. if he had a number of things to distinguish, such as leaves, flowers, etc., he tied threads of different colours round them. in particular he used this method when he had only two classes of objects to distinguish; thus in the case of crossed and self-fertilised flowers, one set would be marked with black and one with white thread, tied round the stalk of the flower. i remember well the look of two sets of capsules, gathered and waiting to be weighed, counted, etc., with pieces of black and of white thread to distinguish the trays in which they lay. when he had to compare two sets of seedlings, sowed in the same pot, he separated them by a partition of zinc-plate; and the zinc label, which gave the necessary details about the experiment, was always placed on a certain side, so that it became instinctive with him to know without reading the label which were the "crossed" and which were the "self-fertilised." his love of each particular experiment, and his eager zeal not to lose the fruit of it, came out markedly in these crossing experiments--in the elaborate care he took not to make any confusion in putting capsules into wrong trays, etc., etc. i can recall his appearance as he counted seeds under the simple microscope with an alertness not usually characterising such mechanical work as counting. i think he personified each seed as a small demon trying to elude him by getting into the wrong heap, or jumping away altogether; and this gave to the work the excitement of a game. he had great faith in instruments, and i do not think it naturally occurred to him to doubt the accuracy of a scale or measuring glass, etc. he was astonished when we found that one of his micrometers differed from the other. he did not require any great accuracy in most of his measurements, and had not good scales; he had an old three-foot rule, which was the common property of the household, and was constantly being borrowed, because it was the only one which was certain to be in its place--unless, indeed, the last borrower had forgotten to put it back. for measuring the height of plants he had a seven-foot deal rod, graduated by the village carpenter. latterly he took to using paper scales graduated to millimeters. for small objects he used a pair of compasses and an ivory protractor. it was characteristic of him that he took scrupulous pains in making measurements with his somewhat rough scales. a trifling example of his faith in authority is that he took his "inch in terms of millimeters" from an old book, in which it turned out to be inaccurately given. he had a chemical balance which dated from the days when he worked at chemistry with his brother erasmus. measurements of capacity were made with an apothecary's measuring glass: i remember well its rough look and bad graduation. with this, too, i remember the great care he took in getting the fluid-line on to the graduation. i do not mean by this account of his instruments that any of his experiments suffered from want of accuracy in measurement, i give them as examples of his simple methods and faith in others--faith at least in instrument-makers, whose whole trade was a mystery to him. a few of his mental characteristics, bearing especially on his mode of working, occur to me. there was one quality of mind which seemed to be of special and extreme advantage in leading him to make discoveries. it was the power of never letting exceptions pass unnoticed. everybody notices a fact as an exception when it is striking or frequent, but he had a special instinct for arresting an exception. a point apparently slight and unconnected with his present work is passed over by many a man almost unconsciously with some half-considered explanation, which is in fact no explanation. it was just these things that he seized on to make a start from. in a certain sense there is nothing special in this procedure, many discoveries being made by means of it. i only mention it because, as i watched him at work, the value of this power to an experimenter was so strongly impressed upon me. another quality which was shown in his experimental works was his power of sticking to a subject; he used almost to apologise for his patience, saying that he could not bear to be beaten, as if this were rather a sign of weakness on his part. he often quoted the saying, "it's dogged as does it;" and i think doggedness expresses his frame of mind almost better than perseverance. perseverance seems hardly to express his almost fierce desire to force the truth to reveal itself. he often said that it was important that a man should know the right point at which to give up an inquiry. and i think it was his tendency to pass this point that inclined him to apologise for his perseverance, and gave the air of doggedness to his work. he often said that no one could be a good observer unless he was an active theoriser. this brings me back to what i said about his instinct for arresting exceptions: it was as though he were charged with theorising power ready to flow into any channel on the slightest disturbance, so that no fact, however small, could avoid releasing a stream of theory, and thus the fact became magnified into importance. in this way it naturally happened that many untenable theories occurred to him; but fortunately his richness of imagination was equalled by his power of judging and condemning the thoughts that occurred to him. he was just to his theories, and did not condemn them unheard; and so it happened that he was willing to test what would seem to most people not at all worth testing. these rather wild trials he called "fool's experiments," and enjoyed extremely. as an example i may mention that finding the cotyledons of biophytum to be highly sensitive to vibrations of the table, he fancied that they might perceive the vibrations of sound, and therefore made me play my bassoon close to a plant. (this is not so much an example of superabundant theorising from a small cause, but only of his wish to test the most improbable ideas.) the love of experiment was very strong in him, and i can remember the way he would say, "i shan't be easy till i have tried it," as if an outside force were driving him. he enjoyed experimenting much more than work which only entailed reasoning, and when he was engaged on one of his books which required argument and the marshalling of facts, he felt experimental work to be a rest or holiday. thus, while working upon the 'variations of animals and plants,' in - , he made out the fertilisation of orchids, and thought himself idle for giving so much time to them. it is interesting to think that so important a piece of research should have been undertaken and largely worked out as a pastime in place of more serious work. the letters to hooker of this period contain expressions such as, "god forgive me for being so idle; i am quite sillily interested in this work." the intense pleasure he took in understanding the adaptations for fertilisation is strongly shown in these letters. he speaks in one of his letters of his intention of working at drosera as a rest from the 'descent of man.' he has described in his 'recollections' the strong satisfaction he felt in solving the problem of heterostylism. and i have heard him mention that the geology of south america gave him almost more pleasure than anything else. it was perhaps this delight in work requiring keen observation that made him value praise given to his observing powers almost more than appreciation of his other qualities. for books he had no respect, but merely considered them as tools to be worked with. thus he did not bind them, and even when a paper book fell to pieces from use, as happened to muller's 'befruchtung,' he preserved it from complete dissolution by putting a metal clip over its back. in the same way he would cut a heavy book in half, to make it more convenient to hold. he used to boast that he made lyell publish the second edition of one of his books in two volumes instead of one, by telling him how he had been obliged to cut it in half. pamphlets were often treated even more severely than books, for he would tear out, for the sake of saving room, all the pages except the one that interested him. the consequence of all this was, that his library was not ornamental, but was striking from being so evidently a working collection of books. he was methodical in his manner of reading books and pamphlets bearing on his own work. he had one shelf on which were piled up the books he had not yet read, and another to which they were transferred after having been read, and before being catalogued. he would often groan over his unread books, because there were so many which he knew he should never read. many a book was at once transferred to the other heap, either marked with a cypher at the end, to show that it contained no marked passages, or inscribed, perhaps, "not read," or "only skimmed." the books accumulated in the "read" heap until the shelves overflowed, and then, with much lamenting, a day was given up to the cataloguing. he disliked this work, and as the necessity of undertaking the work became imperative, would often say, in a voice of despair, "we really must do these books soon." in each book, as he read it, he marked passages bearing on his work. in reading a book or pamphlet, etc., he made pencil-lines at the side of the page, often adding short remarks, and at the end made a list of the pages marked. when it was to be catalogued and put away, the marked pages were looked at, and so a rough abstract of the book was made. this abstract would perhaps be written under three or four headings on different sheets, the facts being sorted out and added to the previously collected facts in different subjects. he had other sets of abstracts arranged, not according to subject, but according to periodical. when collecting facts on a large scale, in earlier years, he used to read through, and make abstracts, in this way, of whole series of periodicals. in some of his early letters he speaks of filling several note-books with facts for his book on species; but it was certainly early that he adopted his plan of using portfolios as described in the 'recollections.' (the racks on which the portfolios were placed are shown in the illustration, "the study at down," in the recess at the right-hand side of the fire-place.) my father and m. de candolle were mutually pleased to discover that they had adopted the same plan of classifying facts. de candolle describes the method in his 'phytologie,' and in his sketch of my father mentions the satisfaction he felt in seeing it in action at down. besides these portfolios, of which there are some dozens full of notes, there are large bundles of ms. marked "used" and put away. he felt the value of his notes, and had a horror of their destruction by fire. i remember, when some alarm of fire had happened, his begging me to be especially careful, adding very earnestly, that the rest of his life would be miserable if his notes and books were to be destroyed. he shows the same feeling in writing about the loss of a manuscript, the purport of his words being, "i have a copy, or the loss would have killed me." in writing a book he would spend much time and labour in making a skeleton or plan of the whole, and in enlarging and sub-classing each heading, as described in his 'recollections.' i think this careful arrangement of the plan was not at all essential to the building up of his argument, but for its presentment, and for the arrangement of his facts. in his 'life of erasmus darwin,' as it was first printed in slips, the growth of the book from a skeleton was plainly visible. the arrangement was altered afterwards, because it was too formal and categorical, and seemed to give the character of his grandfather rather by means of a list of qualities than as a complete picture. it was only within the last few years that he adopted a plan of writing which he was convinced suited him best, and which is described in the 'recollections;' namely, writing a rough copy straight off without the slightest attention to style. it was characteristic of him that he felt unable to write with sufficient want of care if he used his best paper, and thus it was that he wrote on the backs of old proofs or manuscript. the rough copy was then reconsidered, and a fair copy was made. for this purpose he had foolscap paper ruled at wide intervals, the lines being needed to prevent him writing so closely that correction became difficult. the fair copy was then corrected, and was recopied before being sent to the printers. the copying was done by mr. e. norman, who began this work many years ago when village schoolmaster at down. my father became so used to mr. norman's hand-writing, that he could not correct manuscript, even when clearly written out by one of his children, until it had been recopied by mr. norman. the ms., on returning from mr. norman was once more corrected, and then sent off to the printers. then came the work of revising and correcting the proofs, which my father found especially wearisome. it was at this stage that he first seriously considered the style of what he had written. when this was going on he usually started some other piece of work as a relief. the correction of slips consisted in fact of two processes, for the corrections were first written in pencil, and then re-considered and written in ink. when the book was passing through the "slip" stage he was glad to have corrections and suggestions from others. thus my mother looked over the proofs of the 'origin.' in some of the later works my sister, mrs. litchfield, did much of the correction. after my sister's marriage perhaps most of the work fell to my share. my sister, mrs. litchfield, writes:-- "this work was very interesting in itself, and it was inexpressibly exhilarating to work for him. he was always so ready to be convinced that any suggested alteration was an improvement, and so full of gratitude for the trouble taken. i do not think that he ever used to forget to tell me what improvement he thought that i had made, and he used almost to excuse himself if he did not agree with any correction. i think i felt the singular modesty and graciousness of his nature through thus working for him in a way i never should otherwise have done. "he did not write with ease, and was apt to invert his sentences both in writing and speaking, putting the qualifying clause before it was clear what it was to qualify. he corrected a great deal, and was eager to express himself as well as he possibly could." perhaps the commonest corrections needed were of obscurities due to the omission of a necessary link in the reasoning, something which he had evidently omitted through familiarity with the subject. not that there was any fault in the sequence of the thoughts, but that from familiarity with his argument he did not notice when the words failed to reproduce his thought. he also frequently put too much matter into one sentence, so that it had to be cut up into two. on the whole, i think the pains which my father took over the literary part of the work was very remarkable. he often laughed or grumbled at himself for the difficulty which he found in writing english, saying, for instance, that if a bad arrangement of a sentence was possible, he should be sure to adopt it. he once got much amusement and satisfaction out of the difficulty which one of the family found in writing a short circular. he had the pleasure of correcting and laughing at obscurities, involved sentences, and other defects, and thus took his revenge for all the criticism he had himself to bear with. he used to quote with astonishment miss martineau's advice to young authors, to write straight off and send the ms. to the printer without correction. but in some cases he acted in a somewhat similar manner. when a sentence got hopelessly involved, he would ask himself, "now what do you want to say?" and his answer written down, would often disentangle the confusion. his style has been much praised; on the other hand, at least one good judge has remarked to me that it is not a good style. it is, above all things, direct and clear; and it is characteristic of himself in its simplicity, bordering on naivete, and in its absence of pretence. he had the strongest disbelief in the common idea that a classical scholar must write good english; indeed, he thought that the contrary was the case. in writing, he sometimes showed the same tendency to strong expressions as he did in conversation. thus in the 'origin,' page , there is a description of a larval cirripede, "with six pairs of beautifully constructed natatory legs, a pair of magnificent compound eyes, and extremely complex antennae." we used to laugh at him for this sentence, which we compared to an advertisement. this tendency to give himself up to the enthusiastic turn of his thought, without fear of being ludicrous, appears elsewhere in his writings. his courteous and conciliatory tone towards his reader is remarkable, and it must be partly this quality which revealed his personal sweetness of character to so many who had never seen him. i have always felt it to be a curious fact, that he who had altered the face of biological science, and is in this respect the chief of the moderns, should have written and worked in so essentially a non-modern spirit and manner. in reading his books one is reminded of the older naturalists rather than of the modern school of writers. he was a naturalist in the old sense of the word, that is, a man who works at many branches of the science, not merely a specialist in one. thus it is, that, though he founded whole new divisions of special subjects--such as the fertilisation of flowers, insectivorous plants, dimorphism, etc.--yet even in treating these very subjects he does not strike the reader as a specialist. the reader feels like a friend who is being talked to by a courteous gentleman, not like a pupil being lectured by a professor. the tone of such a book as the 'origin' is charming, and almost pathetic; it is the tone of a man who, convinced of the truth of his own views, hardly expects to convince others; it is just the reverse of the style of a fanatic, who wants to force people to believe. the reader is never scorned for any amount of doubt which he may be imagined to feel, and his scepticism is treated with patient respect. a sceptical reader, or perhaps even an unreasonable reader, seems to have been generally present to his thoughts. it was in consequence of this feeling, perhaps, that he took much trouble over points which he imagined would strike the reader, or save him trouble, and so tempt him to read. for the same reason he took much interest in the illustrations of his books, and i think rated rather too highly their value. the illustrations for his earlier books were drawn by professional artists. this was the case in 'animals and plants,' the 'descent of man,' and the 'expression of the emotions.' on the other hand, 'climbing plants,' 'insectivorous plants,' the 'movements of plants,' and 'forms of flowers,' were, to a large extent, illustrated by some of his children--my brother george having drawn by far the most. it was delightful to draw for him, as he was enthusiastic in his praise of very moderate performances. i remember well his charming manner of receiving the drawings of one of his daughters-in-law, and how he would finish his words of praise by saying, "tell a--, michael angelo is nothing to it." though he praised so generously, he always looked closely at the drawing, and easily detected mistakes or carelessness. he had a horror of being lengthy, and seems to have been really much annoyed and distressed when he found how the 'variations of animals and plants' was growing under his hands. i remember his cordially agreeing with 'tristram shandy's' words, "let no man say, 'come, i'll write a duodecimo.'" his consideration for other authors was as marked a characteristic as his tone towards his reader. he speaks of all other authors as persons deserving of respect. in cases where, as in the case of --'s experiments on drosera, he thought lightly of the author, he speaks of him in such a way that no one would suspect it. in other cases he treats the confused writings of ignorant persons as though the fault lay with himself for not appreciating or understanding them. besides this general tone of respect, he had a pleasant way of expressing his opinion on the value of a quoted work, or his obligation for a piece of private information. his respectful feeling was not only morally beautiful, but was i think of practical use in making him ready to consider the ideas and observations of all manner of people. he used almost to apologise for this, and would say that he was at first inclined to rate everything too highly. it was a great merit in his mind that, in spite of having so strong a respectful feeling towards what he read, he had the keenest of instincts as to whether a man was trustworthy or not. he seemed to form a very definite opinion as to the accuracy of the men whose books he read; and made use of this judgment in his choice of facts for use in argument or as illustrations. i gained the impression that he felt this power of judging of a man's trustworthiness to be of much value. he had a keen feeling of the sense of honour that ought to reign among authors, and had a horror of any kind of laxness in quoting. he had a contempt for the love of honour and glory, and in his letters often blames himself for the pleasure he took in the success of his books, as though he were departing from his ideal--a love of truth and carelessness about fame. often, when writing to sir j. hooker what he calls a boasting letter, he laughs at himself for his conceit and want of modesty. there is a wonderfully interesting letter which he wrote to my mother bequeathing to her, in case of his death, the care of publishing the manuscript of his first essay on evolution. this letter seems to me full of the intense desire that his theory should succeed as a contribution to knowledge, and apart from any desire for personal fame. he certainly had the healthy desire for success which a man of strong feelings ought to have. but at the time of the publication of the 'origin' it is evident that he was overwhelmingly satisfied with the adherence of such men as lyell, hooker, huxley, and asa gray, and did not dream of or desire any such wide and general fame as he attained to. connected with his contempt for the undue love of fame, was an equally strong dislike of all questions of priority. the letters to lyell, at the time of the 'origin,' show the anger he felt with himself for not being able to repress a feeling of disappointment at what he thought was mr. wallace's forestalling of all his years of work. his sense of literary honour comes out strongly in these letters; and his feeling about priority is again shown in the admiration expressed in his 'recollections' of mr. wallace's self-annihilation. his feeling about reclamations, including answers to attacks and all kinds of discussions, was strong. it is simply expressed in a letter to falconer ( ?), "if i ever felt angry towards you, for whom i have a sincere friendship, i should begin to suspect that i was a little mad. i was very sorry about your reclamation, as i think it is in every case a mistake and should be left to others. whether i should so act myself under provocation is a different question." it was a feeling partly dictated by instinctive delicacy, and partly by a strong sense of the waste of time, energy, and temper thus caused. he said that he owed his determination not to get into discussions (he departed from his rule in his "note on the habits of the pampas woodpecker, colaptes campestris," 'proc. zool. soc.,' , page : also in a letter published in the 'athenaeum' ( , page ), in which case he afterwards regretted that he had not remained silent. his replies to criticisms, in the later editions of the 'origin,' can hardly be classed as infractions of his rule.) to the advice of lyell,--advice which he transmitted to those among his friends who were given to paper warfare. if the character of my father's working life is to be understood, the conditions of ill-health, under which he worked, must be constantly borne in mind. he bore his illness with such uncomplaining patience, that even his children can hardly, i believe, realise the extent of his habitual suffering. in their case the difficulty is heightened by the fact that, from the days of their earliest recollections, they saw him in constant ill-health,--and saw him, in spite of it, full of pleasure in what pleased them. thus, in later life, their perception of what he endured had to be disentangled from the impression produced in childhood by constant genial kindness under conditions of unrecognised difficulty. no one indeed, except my mother, knows the full amount of suffering he endured, or the full amount of his wonderful patience. for all the latter years of his life she never left him for a night; and her days were so planned that all his resting hours might be shared with her. she shielded him from every avoidable annoyance, and omitted nothing that might save him trouble, or prevent him becoming overtired, or that might alleviate the many discomforts of his ill-health. i hesitate to speak thus freely of a thing so sacred as the life-long devotion which prompted all this constant and tender care. but it is, i repeat, a principal feature of his life, that for nearly forty years he never knew one day of the health of ordinary men, and that thus his life was one long struggle against the weariness and strain of sickness. and this cannot be told without speaking of the one condition which enabled him to bear the strain and fight out the struggle to the end. letters. the earliest letters to which i have access are those written by my father when an undergraduate at cambridge. the history of his life, as told in his correspondence, must therefore begin with this period. chapter .iv. -- cambridge life. [my father's cambridge life comprises the time between the lent term, , when he came up as a freshman, and the end of the may term, , when he took his degree and left the university.] it appears from the college books, that my father "admissus est pensionarius minor sub magistro shaw" on october , . he did not come into residence till the lent term, , so that, although he passed his examination in due season, he was unable to take his degree at the usual time,--the beginning of the lent term, . in such a case a man usually took his degree before ash-wednesday, when he was called "baccalaureus ad diem cinerum," and ranked with the b.a.'s of the year. my father's name, however, occurs in the list of bachelors "ad baptistam," or those admitted between ash-wednesday and st. john baptist's day (june th); ("on tuesday last charles darwin, of christ's college, was admitted b.a."--"cambridge chronicle", friday, april , .) he therefore took rank among the bachelors of . he "kept" for a term or two in lodgings, over bacon the tobacconist's; not, however, over the shop in the market place, now so well known to cambridge men, but in sidney street. for the rest of his time he had pleasant rooms on the south side of the first court of christ's. (the rooms are on the first floor, on the west side of the middle staircase. a medallion (given by my brother) has recently been let into the wall of the sitting-room.) what determined the choice of this college for his brother erasmus and himself i have no means of knowing. erasmus the elder, their grandfather, had been at st. john's, and this college might have been reasonably selected for them, being connected with shrewsbury school. but the life of an under-graduate at st. john's seems, in those days, to have been a troubled one, if i may judge from the fact that a relative of mine migrated thence to christ's to escape the harassing discipline of the place. a story told by mr. herbert illustrates the same state of things:-- "in the beginning of the october term of , an incident occurred which was attended with somewhat disagreeable, though ludicrous consequences to myself. darwin asked me to take a long walk with him in the fens, to search for some natural objects he was desirous of having. after a very long, fatiguing day's work, we dined together, late in the evening, at his rooms in christ's college; and as soon as our dinner was over we threw ourselves into easy chairs and fell sound asleep. i was first to awake, about three in the morning, when, having looked at my watch, and knowing the strict rule of st. john's, which required men in statu pupillari to come into college before midnight, i rushed homeward at the utmost speed, in fear of the consequences, but hoping that the dean would accept the excuse as sufficient when i told him the real facts. he, however, was inexorable, and refused to receive my explanations, or any evidence i could bring; and although during my undergraduateship i had never been reported for coming late into college, now, when i was a hard-working b.a., and had five or six pupils, he sentenced me to confinement to the college walls for the rest of the term. darwin's indignation knew no bounds, and the stupid injustice and tyranny of the dean raised not only a perfect ferment among my friends, but was the subject of expostulation from some of the leading members of the university." my father seems to have found no difficulty in living at peace with all men in and out of office at lady margaret's other foundation. the impression of a contemporary of my father's is that christ's in their day was a pleasant, fairly quiet college, with some tendency towards "horsiness"; many of the men made a custom of going to newmarket during the races, though betting was not a regular practice. in this they were by no means discouraged by the senior tutor, mr. shaw, who was himself generally to be seen on the heath on these occasions. there was a somewhat high proportion of fellow-commoners,--eight or nine, to sixty or seventy pensioners, and this would indicate that it was not an unpleasant college for men with money to spend and with no great love of strict discipline. the way in which the service was conducted in chapel shows that the dean, at least, was not over zealous. i have heard my father tell how at evening chapel the dean used to read alternate verses of the psalms, without making even a pretence of waiting for the congregation to take their share. and when the lesson was a lengthy one, he would rise and go on with the canticles after the scholar had read fifteen or twenty verses. it is curious that my father often spoke of his cambridge life as if it had been so much time wasted, forgetting that, although the set studies of the place were barren enough for him, he yet gained in the highest degree the best advantages of a university life--the contact with men and an opportunity for his mind to grow vigorously. it is true that he valued at its highest the advantages which he gained from associating with professor henslow and some others, but he seemed to consider this as a chance outcome of his life at cambridge, not an advantage for which alma mater could claim any credit. one of my father's cambridge friends was the late mr. j.m. herbert, county court judge for south wales, from whom i was fortunate enough to obtain some notes which help us to gain an idea of how my father impressed his contemporaries. mr. herbert writes: "i think it was in the spring of that i first met darwin, either at my cousin whitley's rooms in st. john's, or at the rooms of some other of his old shrewsbury schoolfellows, with many of whom i was on terms of great intimacy. but it certainly was in the summer of that year that our acquaintance ripened into intimacy, when we happened to be together at barmouth, for the long vacation, reading with private tutors,--he with batterton of st. john's, his classical and mathematical tutor, and i with yate of st. john's." the intercourse between them practically ceased in , when my father said goodbye to herbert at cambridge, on starting on his "beagle" voyage. i once met mr. herbert, then almost an old man, and i was much struck by the evident warmth and freshness of the affection with which he remembered my father. the notes from which i quote end with this warm-hearted eulogium: "it would be idle for me to speak of his vast intellectual powers...but i cannot end this cursory and rambling sketch without testifying, and i doubt not all his surviving college friends would concur with me, that he was the most genial, warm-hearted, generous, and affectionate of friends; that his sympathies were with all that was good and true; and that he had a cordial hatred for everything false, or vile, or cruel, or mean, or dishonourable. he was not only great, but pre-eminently good, and just, and loveable." two anecdotes told by mr. herbert show that my father's feeling for suffering, whether of man or beast, was as strong in him as a young man as it was in later years: "before he left cambridge he told me that he had made up his mind not to shoot any more; that he had had two days' shooting at his friend's, mr. owen of woodhouse; and that on the second day, when going over some of the ground they had beaten on the day before, he picked up a bird not quite dead, but lingering from a shot it had received on the previous day; and that it had made and left such a painful impression on his mind, that he could not reconcile it to his conscience to continue to derive pleasure from a sport which inflicted such cruel suffering." to realise the strength of the feeling that led to this resolve, we must remember how passionate was his love of sport. we must recall the boy shooting his first snipe ('recollections.'), and trembling with excitement so that he could hardly reload his gun. or think of such a sentence as, "upon my soul, it is only about a fortnight to the 'first,' then if there is a bliss on earth that is it." (letter from c. darwin to w.d. fox.) another anecdote told by mr. herbert illustrates again his tenderness of heart:-- "when at barmouth he and i went to an exhibition of 'learned dogs.' in the middle of the entertainment one of the dogs failed in performing the trick his master told him to do. on the man reproving him, the dog put on a most piteous expression, as if in fear of the whip. darwin seeing it, asked me to leave with him, saying, 'come along, i can't stand this any longer; how those poor dogs must have been licked.'" it is curious that the same feeling recurred to my father more than fifty years afterwards, on seeing some performing dogs at the westminster aquarium; on this occasion he was reassured by the manager telling him that the dogs were taught more by reward than by punishment. mr. herbert goes on:--"it stirred one's inmost depth of feeling to hear him descant upon, and groan over, the horrors of the slave-trade, or the cruelties to which the suffering poles were subjected at warsaw...these, and other like proofs have left on my mind the conviction that a more humane or tender-hearted man never lived." his old college friends agree in speaking with affectionate warmth of his pleasant, genial temper as a young man. from what they have been able to tell me, i gain the impression of a young man overflowing with animal spirits--leading a varied healthy life--not over-industrious in the set of studies of the place, but full of other pursuits, which were followed with a rejoicing enthusiasm. entomology, riding, shooting in the fens, suppers and card-playing, music at king's chapel, engravings at the fitzwilliam museum, walks with professor henslow--all combined to fill up a happy life. he seems to have infected others with his enthusiasm. mr. herbert relates how, during the same barmouth summer, he was pressed into the service of "the science"--as my father called collecting beetles. they took their daily walks together among the hills behind barmouth, or boated in the mawddach estuary, or sailed to sarn badrig to land there at low water, or went fly-fishing in the cors-y-gedol lakes. "on these occasions darwin entomologized most industriously, picking up creatures as he walked along, and bagging everything which seemed worthy of being pursued, or of further examination. and very soon he armed me with a bottle of alcohol, in which i had to drop any beetle which struck me as not of a common kind. i performed this duty with some diligence in my constitutional walks; but alas! my powers of discrimination seldom enabled me to secure a prize--the usual result, on his examining the contents of my bottle, being an exclamation, 'well, old cherbury' (no doubt in allusion to the title of lord herbert of cherbury.) (the nickname he gave me, and by which he usually addressed me), 'none of these will do.'" again, the rev. t. butler, who was one of the barmouth reading-party in , says: "he inoculated me with a taste for botany which has stuck by me all my life." archdeacon watkins, another old college friend of my father's, remembers him unearthing beetles in the willows between cambridge and grantchester, and speaks of a certain beetle the remembrance of whose name is "crux major." (panagaeus crux-major.) how enthusiastically must my father have exulted over this beetle to have impressed its name on a companion so that he remembers it after half a century! archdeacon watkins goes on: "i do not forget the long and very interesting conversations that we had about brazilian scenery and tropical vegetation of all sorts. nor do i forget the way and the vehemence with which he rubbed his chin when he got excited on such subjects, and discoursed eloquently of lianas, orchids, etc." he became intimate with henslow, the professor of botany, and through him with some other older members of the university. "but," mr. herbert writes, "he always kept up the closest connection with the friends of his own standing; and at our frequent social gatherings--at breakfast, wine or supper parties--he was ever one of the most cheerful, the most popular, and the most welcome." my father formed one of a club for dining once a week, called the gourmet (mr. herbert mentions the name as 'the glutton club.') club, the members, besides himself and mr. herbert (from whom i quote), being whitley of st. john's, now honorary canon of durham (formerly reader in natural philosophy at durham university.); heaviside of sidney, now canon of norwich; lovett cameron of trinity, now vicar of shoreham; blane of trinity, who held a high post during the crimean war; h. lowe (brother of lord sherbrooke.) (now sherbrooke) of trinity hall; and watkins of emmanuel, now archdeacon of york. the origin of the club's name seems already to have become involved in obscurity. mr. herbert says that it was chosen in derision of another "set of men who called themselves by a long greek name signifying 'fond of dainties,' but who falsified their claim to such a designation by their weekly practice of dining at some roadside inn, six miles from cambridge, on mutton chops or beans and bacon." another old member of the club tells me that the name arose because the members were given to making experiments on "birds and beasts which were before unknown to human palate." he says that hawk and bittern were tried, and that their zeal broke down over an old brown owl, "which was indescribable." at any rate, the meetings seemed to have been successful, and to have ended with "a game of mild vingt-et-un." mr. herbert gives an amusing account of the musical examinations described by my father in his "recollections." mr. herbert speaks strongly of his love of music, and adds, "what gave him the greatest delight was some grand symphony or overture of mozart's or beethoven's, with their full harmonies." on one occasion herbert remembers "accompanying him to the afternoon service at king's, when we heard a very beautiful anthem. at the end of one of the parts, which was exceedingly impressive, he turned round to me and said, with a deep sigh, 'how's your backbone?'" he often spoke of a feeling of coldness or shivering in his back on hearing beautiful music. besides a love of music, he had certainly at this time a love of fine literature; and mr. cameron tells me that he used to read shakespeare to my father in his rooms at christ's, who took much pleasure in it. he also speaks of his "great liking for first-class line engravings, especially those of raphael morghen and muller; and he spent hours in the fitzwilliam museum in looking over the prints in that collection." my father's letters to fox show how sorely oppressed he felt by the reading of an examination: "i am reading very hard, and have spirits for nothing. i actually have not stuck a beetle this term." his despair over mathematics must have been profound, when he expressed a hope that fox's silence is due to "your being ten fathoms deep in the mathematics; and if you are, god help you, for so am i, only with this difference, i stick fast in the mud at the bottom, and there i shall remain." mr. herbert says: "he had, i imagine, no natural turn for mathematics, and he gave up his mathematical reading before he had mastered the first part of algebra, having had a special quarrel with surds and the binomial theorem." we get some evidence from his letters to fox of my father's intention of going into the church. "i am glad," he writes (march , .), "to hear that you are reading divinity. i should like to know what books you are reading, and your opinions about them; you need not be afraid of preaching to me prematurely." mr. herbert's sketch shows how doubts arose in my father's mind as to the possibility of his taking orders. he writes, "we had an earnest conversation about going into holy orders; and i remember his asking me, with reference to the question put by the bishop in the ordination service, 'do you trust that you are inwardly moved by the holy spirit, etc.,' whether i could answer in the affirmative, and on my saying i could not, he said, 'neither can i, and therefore i cannot take orders.'" this conversation appears to have taken place in , and if so, the doubts here expressed must have been quieted, for in may , he speaks of having some thoughts of reading divinity with henslow. [the greater number of the following letters are addressed by my father to his cousin, william darwin fox. mr. fox's relationship to my father is shown in the pedigree given in chapter i. the degree of kinship appears to have remained a problem to my father, as he signs himself in one letter "cousin/n to the power ." their friendship was, in fact, due to their being undergraduates together. my father's letters show clearly enough how genuine the friendship was. in after years, distance, large families, and ill-health on both sides, checked the intercourse; but a warm feeling of friendship remained. the correspondence was never quite dropped and continued till mr. fox's death in . mr. fox took orders, and worked as a country clergyman until forced by ill-health to leave his living in delamare forest. his love of natural history remained strong, and he became a skilled fancier of many kinds of birds, etc. the index to 'animals and plants,' and my father's later correspondence, show how much help he received from his old college friend.] charles darwin to j.m. herbert. saturday evening [september , ]. (the postmark being derby seems to show that the letter was written from his cousin, w.d. fox's house, osmaston, near derby.) my dear old cherbury, i am about to fulfil my promise of writing to you, but i am sorry to add there is a very selfish motive at the bottom. i am going to ask you a great favour, and you cannot imagine how much you will oblige me by procuring some more specimens of some insects which i dare say i can describe. in the first place, i must inform you that i have taken some of the rarest of the british insects, and their being found near barmouth, is quite unknown to the entomological world: i think i shall write and inform some of the crack entomologists. but now for business. several more specimens, if you can procure them without much trouble, of the following insects:--the violet-black coloured beetle, found on craig storm (the top of the hill immediately behind barmouth was called craig-storm, a hybrid cambro-english word.), under stones, also a large smooth black one very like it; a bluish metallic-coloured dung-beetle, which is very common on the hill-sides; also, if you would be so very kind as to cross the ferry, and you will find a great number under the stones on the waste land of a long, smooth, jet-black beetle (a great many of these); also, in the same situation, a very small pinkish insect, with black spots, with a curved thorax projecting beyond the head; also, upon the marshy land over the ferry, near the sea, under old sea-weed, stones, etc., you will find a small yellowish transparent beetle, with two or four blackish marks on the back. under these stones there are two sorts, one much darker than the other; the lighter-coloured is that which i want. these last two insects are excessively rare, and you will really extremely oblige me by taking all this trouble pretty soon; remember me most kindly to butler, tell him of my success, and i dare say both of you will easily recognise these insects. i hope his caterpillars go on well. i think many of the chrysalises are well worth keeping. i really am quite ashamed [of] so long a letter all about my own concerns; but do return good for evil, and send me a long account of all your proceedings. in the first week i killed seventy-five head of game--a very contemptible number--but there are very few birds. i killed, however, a brace of black game. since then i have been staying at the fox's, near derby; it is a very pleasant house, and the music meeting went off very well. i want to hear how yates likes his gun, and what use he has made of it. if the bottle is not large you can buy another for me, and when you pass through shrewsbury you can leave these treasures, and i hope, if you possibly can, you will stay a day or two with me, as i hope i need not say how glad i shall be to see you again. fox remarked what deuced good-natured fellows your friends at barmouth must be; and if i did not know how you and butler were so, i would not think of giving you so much trouble. believe me, my dear herbert, yours, most sincerely, charles darwin. remember me to all friends. [in the following january we find him looking forward with pleasure to the beginning of another year of his cambridge life: he writes to fox-- "i waited till to-day for the chance of a letter, but i will wait no longer. i must most sincerely and cordially congratulate you on having finished all your labours. i think your place a very good one considering by how much you have beaten many men who had the start of you in reading. i do so wish i were now in cambridge (a very selfish wish, however, as i was not with you in all your troubles and misery), to join in all the glory and happiness, which dangers gone by can give. how we would talk, walk, and entomologise! sappho should be the best of bitches, and dash, of dogs: then should be 'peace on earth, good will to men,'--which, by the way, i always think the most perfect description of happiness that words can give."] charles darwin to w.d. fox. cambridge, thursday [february , ]. my dear fox, when i arrived here on tuesday i found to my great grief and surprise, a letter on my table which i had written to you about a fortnight ago, the stupid porter never took the trouble of getting the letter forwarded. i suppose you have been abusing me for a most ungrateful wretch; but i am sure you will pity me now, as nothing is so vexatious as having written a letter in vain. last thursday i left shrewsbury for london, and stayed there till tuesday, on which i came down here by the 'times.' the first two days i spent entirely with mr. hope (founder of the chair of zoology at oxford.), and did little else but talk about and look at insects; his collection is most magnificent, and he himself is the most generous of entomologists; he has given me about new species, and actually often wanted to give me the rarest insects of which he had only two specimens. he made many civil speeches, and hoped you will call on him some time with me, whenever we should happen to be in london. he greatly compliments our exertions in entomology, and says we have taken a wonderfully great number of good insects. on sunday i spent the day with holland, who lent me a horse to ride in the park with. on monday evening i drank tea with stephens (j.f. stephens, author of 'a manual of british coleoptera,' , and other works.); his cabinet is more magnificent than the most zealous entomologist could dream of; he appears to be a very good-humoured pleasant little man. whilst in town i went to the royal institution, linnean society, and zoological gardens, and many other places where naturalists are gregarious. if you had been with me, i think london would be a very delightful place; as things were, it was much pleasanter than i could have supposed such a dreary wilderness of houses to be. i shot whilst in shrewsbury a dundiver (female goosander, as i suppose you know). shaw has stuffed it, and when i have an opportunity i will send it to osmaston. there have been shot also five waxen chatterers, three of which shaw has for sale; would you like to purchase a specimen? i have not yet thanked you for your last very long and agreeable letter. it would have been still more agreeable had it contained the joyful intelligence that you were coming up here; my two solitary breakfasts have already made me aware how very very much i shall miss you. ... believe me, my dear old fox, most sincerely yours, c. darwin. [later on in the lent term he writes to fox:-- "i am leading a quiet everyday sort of a life; a little of gibbon's history in the morning, and a good deal of "van john" in the evening; this, with an occasional ride with simcox and constitutional with whitley, makes up the regular routine of my days. i see a good deal both of herbert and whitley, and the more i see of them increases every day the respect i have for their excellent understandings and dispositions. they have been giving some very gay parties, nearly sixty men there both evenings."] charles darwin to w.d. fox. christ's college [cambridge], april [ ]. my dear fox, in your letter to holden you are pleased to observe "that of all the blackguards you ever met with i am the greatest." upon this observation i shall make no remarks, excepting that i must give you all due credit for acting on it most rigidly. and now i should like to know in what one particular are you less of a blackguard than i am? you idle old wretch, why have you not answered my last letter, which i am sure i forwarded to clifton nearly three weeks ago? if i was not really very anxious to hear what you are doing, i should have allowed you to remain till you thought it worth while to treat me like a gentleman. and now having vented my spleen in scolding you, and having told you, what you must know, how very much and how anxiously i want to hear how you and your family are getting on at clifton, the purport of this letter is finished. if you did but know how often i think of you, and how often i regret your absence, i am sure i should have heard from you long enough ago. i find cambridge rather stupid, and as i know scarcely any one that walks, and this joined with my lips not being quite so well, has reduced me to a sort of hybernation... i have caught mr. harbour letting -- have the first pick of the beetles; accordingly we have made our final adieus, my part in the affecting scene consisted in telling him he was a d--d rascal, and signifying i should kick him down the stairs if ever he appeared in my rooms again. it seemed altogether mightily to surprise the young gentleman. i have no news to tell you; indeed, when a correspondence has been broken off like ours has been, it is difficult to make the first start again. last night there was a terrible fire at linton, eleven miles from cambridge. seeing the reflection so plainly in the sky, hall, woodyeare, turner, and myself thought we would ride and see it. we set out at half-past nine, and rode like incarnate devils there, and did not return till two in the morning. altogether it was a most awful sight. i cannot conclude without telling you, that of all the blackguards i ever met with, you are the greatest and the best. c. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. [cambridge, thursday, april , .] my dear fox, i have delayed answering your last letter for these few days, as i thought that under such melancholy circumstances my writing to you would be probably only giving you trouble. this morning i received a letter from catherine informing me of that event (the death of fox's sister, mrs. bristowe.), which, indeed, from your letter, i had hardly dared to hope would have happened otherwise. i feel most sincerely and deeply for you and all your family; but at the same time, as far as any one can, by his own good principles and religion, be supported under such a misfortune, you, i am assured, will know where to look for such support. and after so pure and holy a comfort as the bible affords, i am equally assured how useless the sympathy of all friends must appear, although it be as heartfelt and sincere, as i hope you believe me capable of feeling. at such a time of deep distress i will say nothing more, excepting that i trust your father and mrs. fox bear this blow as well as, under such circumstances, can be hoped for. i am afraid it will be a long time, my dear fox, before we meet; till then, believe me at all times, yours most affectionately, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. shrewsbury, friday [july , ]. my dear fox, i should have written to you before only that whilst our expedition lasted i was too much engaged, and the conclusion was so unfortunate, that i was too unhappy to write to you till this week's quiet at home. the thoughts of woodhouse next week has at last given me courage to relate my unfortunate case. i started from this place about a fortnight ago to take an entomological trip with mr. hope through all north wales; and barmouth was our first destination. the two first days i went on pretty well, taking several good insects; but for the rest of that week my lips became suddenly so bad (probably with eczema, from which he often suffered.), and i myself not very well, that i was unable to leave the room, and on the monday i retreated with grief and sorrow back again to shrewsbury. the first two days i took some good insects...but the days that i was unable to go out, mr. hope did wonders...and to-day i have received another parcel of insects from him, such colymbetes, such carabi, and such magnificent elaters (two species of the bright scarlet sort). i am sure you will properly sympathise with my unfortunate situation: i am determined i will go over the same ground that he does before autumn comes, and if working hard will procure insects i will bring home a glorious stock.... my dear fox, yours most sincerely, chas. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. shrewsbury, july , . i am going to maer next week in order to entomologise, and shall stay there a week, and for the rest of this summer i intend to lead a perfectly idle and wandering life...you see i am much in the same state that you are, with this difference, you make good resolutions and never keep them; i never make them, so cannot keep them; it is all very well writing in this manner, but i must read for my little-go. graham smiled and bowed so very civilly, when he told me that he was one of the six appointed to make the examination stricter, and that they were determined this would make it a very different thing from any previous examination, that from all this i am sure it will be the very devil to pay amongst all idle men and entomologists. erasmus, we expect home in a few weeks' time: he intends passing next winter in paris. be sure you order the two lists of insects published by stephens, one printed on both sides, and the other only on one; you will find them very useful in many points of view. dear old fox, yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. christ's college, thursday [october , ]. my dear fox, i am afraid you will be very angry with me for not having written during the music meeting, but really i was worked so hard that i had no time; i arrived here on monday and found my rooms in dreadful confusion, as they have been taking up the floor, and you may suppose that i have had plenty to do for these two days. the music meeting (at birmingham.) was the most glorious thing i ever experienced; and as for malibran, words cannot praise her enough, she is quite the most charming person i ever saw. we had extracts out of several of the best operas, acted in character, and you cannot imagine how very superior it made the concerts to any i ever heard before. j. de begnis (de begnis's christian name was giuseppe.) acted 'il fanatico' in character; being dressed up an extraordinary figure gives a much greater effect to his acting. he kept the whole theatre in roars of laughter. i liked madame blasis very much, but nothing will do after malibran, who sung some comic songs, and [a] person's heart must have been made of stone not to have lost it to her. i lodged very near the wedgwoods, and lived entirely with them, which was very pleasant, and had you been there it would have been quite perfect. it knocked me up most dreadfully, and i will never attempt again to do two things the same day. ... charles darwin to w.d. fox. [cambridge] thursday [march, ]. my dear fox, i am through my little-go!!! i am too much exalted to humble myself by apologising for not having written before. but i assure you before i went in, and when my nerves were in a shattered and weak condition, your injured person often rose before my eyes and taunted me with my idleness. but i am through, through, through. i could write the whole sheet full with this delightful word. i went in yesterday, and have just heard the joyful news. i shall not know for a week which class i am in. the whole examination is carried on in a different system. it has one grand advantage--being over in one day. they are rather strict, and ask a wonderful number of questions. and now i want to know something about your plans; of course you intend coming up here: what fun we will have together; what beetles we will catch; it will do my heart good to go once more together to some of our old haunts. i have two very promising pupils in entomology, and we will make regular campaigns into the fens. heaven protect the beetles and mr. jenyns, for we won't leave him a pair in the whole country. my new cabinet is come down, and a gay little affair it is. and now for the time--i think i shall go for a few days to town to hear an opera and see mr. hope; not to mention my brother also, whom i should have no objection to see. if i go pretty soon, you can come afterwards, but if you will settle your plans definitely, i will arrange mine, so send me a letter by return of post. and i charge you let it be favourable--that is to say, come directly. holden has been ordained, and drove the coach out on the monday. i do not think he is looking very well. chapman wants you and myself to pay him a visit when you come up, and begs to be remembered to you. you must excuse this short letter, as i have no end more to send off by this day's post. i long to see you again, and till then, my dear good old fox, yours most sincerely, charles darwin. [in august he was in north wales and wrote to fox:-- "i have been intending to write every hour for the last fortnight, but really have had no time. i left shrewsbury this day fortnight ago, and have since that time been working from morning to night in catching fish or beetles. this is literally the first idle day i have had to myself; for on the rainy days i go fishing, on the good ones entomologising. you may recollect that for the fortnight previous to all this, you told me not to write, so that i hope i have made out some sort of defence for not having sooner answered your two long and very agreeable letters."] charles darwin to w.d. fox. [cambridge, november , .] my dear fox, i have so little time at present, and am so disgusted by reading that i have not the heart to write to anybody. i have only written once home since i came up. this must excuse me for not having answered your three letters, for which i am really very much obliged... i have not stuck an insect this term, and scarcely opened a case. if i had time i would have sent you the insects which i have so long promised; but really i have not spirits or time to do anything. reading makes me quite desperate; the plague of getting up all my subjects is next thing to intolerable. henslow is my tutor, and a most admirable one he makes; the hour with him is the pleasantest in the whole day. i think he is quite the most perfect man i ever met with. i have been to some very pleasant parties there this term. his good-nature is unbounded. i am sure you will be sorry to hear poor old whitley's father is dead. in a worldly point of view it is of great consequence to him, as it will prevent him going to the bar for some time.--(be sure answer this:) what did you pay for the iron hoop you had made in shrewsbury? because i do not mean to pay the whole of the cambridge man's bill. you need not trouble yourself about the phallus, as i have bought up both species. i have heard men say that henslow has some curious religious opinions. i never perceived anything of it, have you? i am very glad to hear, after all your delays, you have heard of a curacy where you may read all the commandments without endangering your throat. i am also still more glad to hear that your mother continues steadily to improve. i do trust that you will have no further cause for uneasiness. with every wish for your happiness, my dear old fox, believe me yours most sincerely, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. cambridge, sunday, january , . my dear fox, i do hope you will excuse my not writing before i took my degree. i felt a quite inexplicable aversion to write to anybody. but now i do most heartily congratulate you upon passing your examination, and hope you find your curacy comfortable. if it is my last shilling (i have not many), i will come and pay you a visit. i do not know why the degree should make one so miserable, both before and afterwards. i recollect you were sufficiently wretched before, and i can assure [you] i am now, and what makes it the more ridiculous is, i know not what about. i believe it is a beautiful provision of nature to make one regret the less leaving so pleasant a place as cambridge; and amongst all its pleasures--i say it for once and for all--none so great as my friendship with you. i sent you a newspaper yesterday, in which you will see what a good place [ th] i have got in the poll. as for christ's, did you ever see such a college for producing captains and apostles? (the "captain" is at the head of the "poll": the "apostles" are the last twelve in the mathematical tripos.) there are no men either at emmanuel or christ's plucked. cameron is gulfed, together with other three trinity scholars! my plans are not at all settled. i think i shall keep this term, and then go and economise at shrewsbury, return and take my degree. a man may be excused for writing so much about himself when he has just passed the examination; so you must excuse [me]. and on the same principle do you write a letter brimful of yourself and plans. i want to know something about your examination. tell me about the state of your nerves; what books you got up, and how perfect. i take an interest about that sort of thing, as the time will come when i must suffer. your tutor, thompson, begged to be remembered to you, and so does whitley. if you will answer this, i will send as many stupid answers as you can desire. believe me, dear fox, chas. darwin. chapter .v. -- the appointment to the 'beagle.' [in a letter addressed to captain fitz-roy, before the "beagle" sailed, my father wrote, "what a glorious day the th of november (the "beagle" did not however make her final and successful start until december .) will be to me--my second life will then commence, and it shall be as a birthday for the rest of my life."] the circumstances which led to this second birth--so much more important than my father then imagined--are connected with his cambridge life, but may be more appropriately told in the present chapter. foremost in the chain of circumstances which lead to his appointment to the "beagle", was my father's friendship with professor henslow. he wrote in a pocket-book or diary, which contain a brief record of dates, etc., throughout his life:-- " . christmas.--passed my examination for b.a. degree and kept the two following terms. "during these months lived much with professor henslow, often dining with him and walking with him; became slightly acquainted with several of the learned men in cambridge, which much quickened the zeal which dinner parties and hunting had not destroyed. "in the spring paid mr. dawes a visit with ramsay and kirby, and talked over an excursion to teneriffe. in the spring henslow persuaded me to think of geology, and introduced me to sedgwick. during midsummer geologised a little in shropshire. "august.--went on geological tour (mentioned by sedgwick in his preface to salter's 'catalogue of cambrian and silurian fossils,' .) by llangollen, ruthin, conway, bangor, and capel curig, where i left professor sedgwick, and crossed the mountain to barmouth." in a letter to fox (may, ), my father writes:--"i am very busy...and see a great deal of henslow, whom i do not know whether i love or respect most." his feeling for this admirable man is finely expressed in a letter which he wrote to rev. l. blomefield (then rev. l. jenyns), when the latter was engaged in his 'memoir of professor henslow' (published ). the passage ('memoir of the rev. john stevens henslow, m.a.,' by the rev. leonard jenyns. vo. london, , page .) has been made use of in the first of the memorial notices written for 'nature,' and mr. romanes points out that my father, "while describing the character of another, is unconsciously giving a most accurate description of his own":-- "i went to cambridge early in the year , and soon became acquainted, through some of my brother entomologists, with professor henslow, for all who cared for any branch of natural history were equally encouraged by him. nothing could be more simple, cordial, and unpretending than the encouragement which he afforded to all young naturalists. i soon became intimate with him, for he had a remarkable power of making the young feel completely at ease with him; though we were all awe-struck with the amount of his knowledge. before i saw him, i heard one young man sum up his attainments by simply saying that he knew everything. when i reflect how immediately we felt at perfect ease with a man older, and in every way so immensely our superior, i think it was as much owing to the transparent sincerity of his character as to his kindness of heart; and, perhaps, even still more, to a highly remarkable absence in him of all self-consciousness. one perceived at once that he never thought of his own varied knowledge or clear intellect, but solely on the subject in hand. another charm, which must have struck every one, was that his manner to old and distinguished persons and to the youngest student was exactly the same: and to all he showed the same winning courtesy. he would receive with interest the most trifling observation in any branch of natural history; and however absurd a blunder one might make, he pointed it out so clearly and kindly, that one left him no way disheartened, but only determined to be more accurate the next time. in short, no man could be better formed to win the entire confidence of the young, and to encourage them in their pursuits. "his lectures on botany were universally popular, and as clear as daylight. so popular were they, that several of the older members of the university attended successive courses. once every week he kept open house in the evening, and all who cared for natural history attended these parties, which, by thus favouring inter-communication, did the same good in cambridge, in a very pleasant manner, as the scientific societies do in london. at these parties many of the most distinguished members of the university occasionally attended; and when only a few were present, i have listened to the great men of those days, conversing on all sorts of subjects, with the most varied and brilliant powers. this was no small advantage to some of the younger men, as it stimulated their mental activity and ambition. two or three times in each session he took excursions with his botanical class; either a long walk to the habitat of some rare plant, or in a barge down the river to the fens, or in coaches to some more distant place, as to gamlingay, to see the wild lily of the valley, and to catch on the heath the rare natter-jack. these excursions have left a delightful impression on my mind. he was, on such occasions, in as good spirits as a boy, and laughed as heartily as a boy at the misadventures of those who chased the splendid swallow-tail butterflies across the broken and treacherous fens. he used to pause every now and then to lecture on some plant or other object; and something he could tell us on every insect, shell, or fossil collected, for he had attended to every branch of natural history. after our day's work we used to dine at some inn or house, and most jovial we then were. i believe all who joined these excursions will agree with me that they have left an enduring impression of delight on our minds. "as time passed on at cambridge i became very intimate with professor henslow, and his kindness was unbounded; he continually asked me to his house, and allowed me to accompany him in his walks. he talked on all subjects, including his deep sense of religion, and was entirely open. i own more than i can express to this excellent man... "during the years when i associated so much with professor henslow, i never once saw his temper even ruffled. he never took an ill-natured view of any one's character, though very far from blind to the foibles of others. it always struck me that his mind could not be even touched by any paltry feeling of vanity, envy, or jealousy. with all this equability of temper and remarkable benevolence, there was no insipidity of character. a man must have been blind not to have perceived that beneath this placid exterior there was a vigorous and determined will. when principle came into play, no power on earth could have turned him one hair's-breadth... "reflecting over his character with gratitude and reverence, his moral attributes rise, as they should do in the highest character, in pre-eminence over his intellect." in a letter to rev. l. blomefield (jenyns), may , , my father wrote with the same feelings that he had expressed in his letters thirty years before:-- "i thank you most sincerely for your kind present of your memoir of henslow. i have read about half, and it has interested me much. i do not think that i could have venerated him more than i did; but your book has even exalted his character in my eyes. from turning over the pages of the latter half, i should think your account would be invaluable to any clergyman who wished to follow poor dear henslow's noble example. what an admirable man he was." the geological work mentioned in the quotation from my father's pocket-book was doubtless of importance as giving him some practical experience, and perhaps of more importance in helping to give him some confidence in himself. in july of the same year, , he was "working like a tiger" at geology, and trying to make a map of shropshire, but not finding it "as easy as i expected." in writing to henslow about the same time, he gives some account of his work:-- "i should have written to you some time ago, only i was determined to wait for the clinometer, and i am very glad to say i think it will answer admirably. i put all the tables in my bedroom at every conceivable angle and direction. i will venture to say i have measured them as accurately as any geologist going could do...i have been working at so many things that i have not got on much with geology. i suspect the first expedition i take, clinometer and hammer in hand, will send me back very little wiser and a good deal more puzzled than when i started. as yet i have only indulged in hypotheses, but they are such powerful ones that i suppose, if they were put into action for but one day, the world would come to an end." he was evidently most keen to get to work with sedgwick, for he wrote to henslow: "i have not heard from professor sedgwick, so i am afraid he will not pay the severn formations a visit. i hope and trust you did your best to urge him." my father has given in his recollections some account of this tour. there too we read of the projected excursion to the canaries, of which slight mention occurs in letters to fox and henslow. in april he writes to fox: "at present i talk, think, and dream of a scheme i have almost hatched of going to the canary islands. i have long had a wish of seeing tropical scenery and vegetation, and, according to humboldt, teneriffe is a very pretty specimen." and again in may: "as for my canary scheme, it is rash of you to ask questions; my other friends most sincerely wish me there, i plague them so with talking about tropical scenery, etc. eyton will go next summer, and i am learning spanish." later on in the summer the scheme took more definite form, and the date seems to have been fixed for june, . he got information in london about passage-money, and in july was working at spanish and calling fox "un grandisimo lebron," in proof of his knowledge of the language; which, however, he found "intensely stupid." but even then he seems to have had some doubts about his companions' zeal, for he writes to henslow (july , ): "i hope you continue to fan your canary ardour. i read and re-read humboldt; do you do the same? i am sure nothing will prevent us seeing the great dragon tree." geological work and teneriffe dreams carried him through the summer, till on returning from barmouth for the sacred st of september, he received the offer of appointment as naturalist to the "beagle". the following extract from the pocket-book will be a help in reading the letters:-- "returned to shrewsbury at end of august. refused offer of voyage. "september.--went to maer, returned with uncle jos. to shrewsbury, thence to cambridge. london. " th.--went with captain fitz-roy in steamer to plymouth to see the "beagle". " nd.--returned to shrewsbury, passing through cambridge. "october nd.--took leave of my home. stayed in london. " th--reached plymouth. "october and november.--these months very miserable. "december th.--sailed, but were obliged to put back. " st.--put to sea again, and were driven back. " th.--sailed from england on our circumnavigation." george peacock (formerly dean of ely, and lowndean professor of astronomy at cambridge.) to j.s. henslow. suffolk street, pall mall east. [ .] my dear henslow, captain fitz-roy is going out to survey the southern coast of tierra del fuego, and afterwards to visit many of the south sea islands, and to return by the indian archipelago. the vessel is fitted out expressly for scientific purposes, combined with the survey; it will furnish, therefore, a rare opportunity for a naturalist, and it would be a great misfortune that it should be lost. an offer has been made to me to recommend a proper person to go out as a naturalist with this expedition; he will be treated with every consideration. the captain is a young man of very pleasing manners (a nephew of the duke of grafton), of great zeal in his profession, and who is very highly spoken of; if leonard jenyns could go, what treasures he might bring home with him, as the ship would be placed at his disposal whenever his inquiries made it necessary or desirable. in the absence of so accomplished a naturalist, is there any person whom you could strongly recommend? he must be such a person as would do credit to our recommendation. do think of this subject, it would be a serious loss to the cause of natural science if this fine opportunity was lost.... the ship sails about the end of september. write immediately, and tell me what can be done. believe me, my dear henslow, most truly yours, george peacock. j.s. henslow to c. darwin. cambridge, august , . my dear darwin, before i enter upon the immediate business of this letter, let us condole together upon the loss of our inestimable friend poor ramsay, of whose death you have undoubtedly heard long before this. i will not now dwell upon this painful subject, as i shall hope to see you shortly, fully expecting that you will eagerly catch at the offer which is likely to be made you of a trip to tierra del fuego, and home by the east indies. i have been asked by peacock, who will read and forward this to you from london, to recommend him a naturalist as companion to captain fitz-roy, employed by government to survey the southern extremity of america. i have stated that i consider you to be the best qualified person i know of who is likely to undertake such a situation. i state this not in the supposition of your being a finished naturalist, but as amply qualified for collecting, observing, and noting, anything worthy to be noted in natural history. peacock has the appointment at his disposal, and if he cannot find a man willing to take the office, the opportunity will probably be lost. captain fitz-roy wants a man (i understand) more as a companion than a mere collector, and would not take any one, however good a naturalist, who was not recommended to him likewise as a gentleman. particulars of salary, etc., i know nothing. the voyage is to last two years, and if you take plenty of books with you, anything you please may be done. you will have ample opportunities at command. in short, i suppose there never was a finer chance for a man of zeal and spirit; captain fitz-roy is a young man. what i wish you to do is instantly to come and consult with peacock (at no. suffolk street, pall mall east, or else at the university club), and learn further particulars. don't put on any modest doubts or fears about your disqualifications, for i assure you i think you are the very man they are in search of; so conceive yourself to be tapped on the shoulder by your bum-bailiff and affectionate friend, j.s. henslow. the expedition is to sail on th september (at earliest), so there is no time to be lost. g. peacock to c. darwin. [ .] my dear sir, i received henslow's letter last night too late to forward it to you by the post; a circumstance which i do not regret, as it has given me an opportunity of seeing captain beaufort at the admiralty (the hydrographer), and of stating to him the offer which i have to make to you. he entirely approves of it, and you may consider the situation as at your absolute disposal. i trust that you will accept it, as it is an opportunity which should not be lost, and i look forward with great interest to the benefit which our collections of natural history may receive from your labours. the circumstances are these;-- captain fitz-roy (a nephew of the duke of grafton) sails at the end of september, in a ship to survey, in the first instance, the south coast of tierra del fuego, afterwards to visit the south sea islands, and to return by the indian archipelago to england. the expedition is entirely for scientific purposes, and the ship will generally wait your leisure for researches in natural history, etc. captain fitz-roy is a public-spirited and zealous officer, of delightful manners, and greatly beloved by all his brother officers. he went with captain beechey (for 'beechey' read 'king.' i do not find the name fitz-roy in the list of beechey's officers. the fuegians were brought back from captain king's voyage.), and spent pounds in bringing over and educating at his own charge three natives of patagonia. he engages at his own expense an artist at pounds a year to go with him. you may be sure, therefore, of having a very pleasant companion, who will enter heartily into all your views. the ship sails about the end of september, and you must lose no time in making known your acceptance to captain beaufort, admiralty hydrographer. i have had a good deal of correspondence about this matter [with henslow?], who feels, in common with myself, the greatest anxiety that you should go. i hope that no other arrangements are likely to interfere with it.... the admiralty are not disposed to give a salary, though they will furnish you with an official appointment, and every accommodation. if a salary should be required, however, i am inclined to think that it would be granted. believe me, my dear sir, very truly yours, george peacock. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. shrewsbury, tuesday [august ?, ]. my dear sir, mr. peacock's letter arrived on saturday, and i received it late yesterday evening. as far as my own mind is concerned, i should, i think certainly, most gladly have accepted the opportunity which you so kindly have offered me. but my father, although he does not decidedly refuse me, gives such strong advice against going, that i should not be comfortable if i did not follow it. my father's objections are these: the unfitting me to settle down as a clergyman, my little habit of seafaring, the shortness of the time, and the chance of my not suiting captain fitz-roy. it is certainly a very serious objection, the very short time for all my preparations, as not only body but mind wants making up for such an undertaking. but if it had not been for my father i would have taken all risks. what was the reason that a naturalist was not long ago fixed upon? i am very much obliged for the trouble you have had about it; there certainly could not have been a better opportunity.... my trip with sedgwick answered most perfectly. i did not hear of poor mr. ramsay's loss till a few days before your letter. i have been lucky hitherto in never losing any person for whom i had any esteem or affection. my acquaintance, although very short, was sufficient to give me those feelings in a great degree. i can hardly make myself believe he is no more. he was the finest character i ever knew. yours most sincerely, my dear sir, ch. darwin. i have written to mr. peacock, and i mentioned that i have asked you to send one line in the chance of his not getting my letter. i have also asked him to communicate with captain fitz-roy. even if i was to go, my father disliking would take away all energy, and i should want a good stock of that. again i must thank you, it adds a little to the heavy but pleasant load of gratitude which i owe to you. charles darwin to r.w. darwin. [maer] august , [ ]. my dear father, i am afraid i am going to make you again very uncomfortable. but, upon consideration, i think you will excuse me once again, stating my opinions on the offer of the voyage. my excuse and reason is the different way all the wedgwoods view the subject from what you and my sisters do. i have given uncle jos (josiah wedgwood.) what i fervently trust is an accurate and full list of your objections, and he is kind enough to give his opinions on all. the list and his answers will be enclosed. but may i beg of you one favour, it will be doing me the greatest kindness, if you will send me a decided answer, yes or no? if the latter, i should be most ungrateful if i did not implicitly yield to your better judgment, and to the kindest indulgence you have shown me all through my life; and you may rely upon it i will never mention the subject again. if your answer should be yes; i will go directly to henslow and consult deliberately with him, and then come to shrewsbury. the danger appears to me and all the wedgwoods not great. the expense cannot be serious, and the time i do not think, anyhow, would be more thrown away then if i stayed at home. but pray do not consider that i am so bent on going that i would for one single moment hesitate, if you thought that after a short period you should continue uncomfortable. i must again state i cannot think it would unfit me hereafter for a steady life. i do hope this letter will not give you much uneasiness. i send it by the car to-morrow morning; if you make up your mind directly will you send me an answer on the following day by the same means? if this letter should not find you at home, i hope you will answer as soon as you conveniently can. i do not know what to say about uncle jos' kindness; i never can forget how he interests himself about me. believe me, my dear father, your affectionate son, charles darwin. [here follows the list of objections which are referred to in the following letter:-- . disreputable to my character as a clergyman hereafter. . a wild scheme. . that they must have offered to many others before me the place of naturalist. . and from its not being accepted there must be some serious objection to the vessel or expedition. . that i should never settle down to a steady life hereafter. . that my accommodations would be most uncomfortable. . that you [i.e. dr. darwin] should consider it as again changing my profession. . that it would be a useless undertaking.] josiah wedgwood to r.w. darwin. maer, august , . [read this last.] (in c. darwin's writing.) my dear doctor, i feel the responsibility of your application to me on the offer that has been made to charles as being weighty, but as you have desired charles to consult me, i cannot refuse to give the result of such consideration as i have been able to [give?] it. charles has put down what he conceives to be your principal objections, and i think the best course i can take will be to state what occurs to me upon each of them. . i should not think that it would be in any degree disreputable to his character as a clergyman. i should on the contrary think the offer honourable to him; and the pursuit of natural history, though certainly not professional, is very suitable to a clergyman. . i hardly know how to meet this objection, but he would have definite objects upon which to employ himself, and might acquire and strengthen habits of application, and i should think would be as likely to do so as in any way in which he is likely to pass the next two years at home. . the notion did not occur to me in reading the letters; and on reading them again with that object in my mind i see no ground for it. . i cannot conceive that the admiralty would send out a bad vessel on such a service. as to objections to the expedition, they will differ in each man's case, and nothing would, i think, be inferred in charles's case, if it were known that others had objected. . you are a much better judge of charles's character than i can be. if on comparing this mode of spending the next two years with the way in which he will probably spend them, if he does not accept this offer, you think him more likely to be rendered unsteady and unable to settle, it is undoubtedly a weighty objection. is it not the case that sailors are prone to settle in domestic and quiet habits? . i can form no opinion on this further than that if appointed by the admiralty he will have a claim to be as well accommodated as the vessel will allow. . if i saw charles now absorbed in professional studies i should probably think it would not be advisable to interrupt them; but this is not, and, i think, will not be the case with him. his present pursuit of knowledge is in the same track as he would have to follow in the expedition. . the undertaking would be useless as regards his profession, but looking upon him as a man of enlarged curiosity, it affords him such an opportunity of seeing men and things as happens to few. you will bear in mind that i have had very little time for consideration, and that you and charles are the persons who must decide. i am, my dear doctor, affectionately yours, josiah wedgwood. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. cambridge, red lion [september ], . my dear sir, i am just arrived; you will guess the reason. my father has changed his mind. i trust the place is not given away. i am very much fatigued, and am going to bed. i dare say you have not yet got my second letter. how soon shall i come to you in the morning? send a verbal answer. good-night, yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to miss susan darwin. cambridge, sunday morning [september ]. my dear susan, as a letter would not have gone yesterday, i put off writing till to-day. i had rather a wearisome journey, but got into cambridge very fresh. the whole of yesterday i spent with henslow, thinking of what is to be done, and that i find is a great deal. by great good luck i know a man of the name of wood, nephew of lord londonderry. he is a great friend of captain fitz-roy, and has written to him about me. i heard a part of captain fitz-roy's letter, dated some time ago, in which he says: "i have a right good set of officers, and most of my men have been there before." it seems he has been there for the last few years; he was then second in command with the same vessel that he has now chosen. he is only twenty-three years old, but [has] seen a deal of service, and won the gold medal at portsmouth. the admiralty say his maps are most perfect. he had choice of two vessels, and he chose the smallest. henslow will give me letters to all travellers in town whom he thinks may assist me. peacock has sole appointment of naturalist. the first person offered was leonard jenyns, who was so near accepting it that he packed up his clothes. but having [a] living, he did not think it right to leave it--to the great regret of all his family. henslow himself was not very far from accepting it, for mrs. henslow most generously, and without being asked, gave her consent; but she looked so miserable that henslow at once settled the point.... i am afraid there will be a good deal of expense at first. henslow is much against taking many things; it is [the] mistake all young travellers fall into. i write as if it was settled, but henslow tells me by no means to make up my mind till i have had long conversations with captains beaufort and fitz-roy. good-bye. you will hear from me constantly. direct spring gardens. tell nobody in shropshire yet. be sure not. c. darwin. i was so tired that evening i was in shrewsbury that i thanked none of you for your kindness half so much as i felt. love to my father. the reason i don't want people told in shropshire: in case i should not go, it will make it more flat. charles darwin to miss s. darwin. spring gardens, monday [september , ]. i have so little time to spare that i have none to waste in re-writing letters, so that you must excuse my bringing up the other with me and altering it. the last letter was written in the morning. in [the] middle of [the] day, wood received a letter from captain fitz-roy, which i must say was most straightforward and gentlemanlike, but so much against my going, that i immediately gave up the scheme; and henslow did the same, saying that he thought peacock had acted very wrong in misrepresenting things so much. i scarcely thought of going to town, but here i am; and now for more details, and much more promising ones. captain fitz-roy is [in] town, and i have seen him; it is no use attempting to praise him as much as i feel inclined to do, for you would not believe me. one thing i am certain, nothing could be more open and kind than he was to me. it seems he had promised to take a friend with him, who is in office and cannot go, and he only received the letter five minutes before i came in; and this makes things much better for me, as want of room was one of fitz-roy's greatest objections. he offers me to go share in everything in his cabin if i like to come, and every sort of accommodation that i can have, but they will not be numerous. he says nothing would be so miserable for him as having me with him if i was uncomfortable, as in a small vessel we must be thrown together, and thought it his duty to state everything in the worst point of view. i think i shall go on sunday to plymouth to see the vessel. there is something most extremely attractive in his manners and way of coming straight to the point. if i live with him, he says i must live poorly--no wine, and the plainest dinners. the scheme is not certainly so good as peacock describes. captain fitz-roy advises me not [to] make up my mind quite yet, but that, seriously, he thinks it will have much more pleasure than pain for me. the vessel does not sail till the th of october. it contains sixty men, five or six officers, etc., but is a small vessel. it will probably be out nearly three years. i shall pay to the mess the same as [the] captain does himself, pounds per annum; and fitz-roy says if i spend, including my outfitting, pounds, it will be beyond the extreme. but now for still worse news. the round the world is not certain, but the chance most excellent. till that point is decided, i will not be so. and you may believe, after the many changes i have made, that nothing but my reason shall decide me. fitz-roy says the stormy sea is exaggerated; that if i do not choose to remain with them, i can at any time get home to england, so many vessels sail that way, and that during bad weather (probably two months), if i like i shall be left in some healthy, safe and nice country; that i shall always have assistance; that he has many books, all instruments, guns, at my service; that the fewer and cheaper clothes i take the better. the manner of proceeding will just suit me. they anchor the ship, and then remain for a fortnight at a place. i have made captain beaufort perfectly understand me. he says if i start and do not go round the world, i shall have good reason to think myself deceived. i am to call the day after to-morrow, and, if possible, to receive more certain instructions. the want of room is decidedly the most serious objection; but captain fitz-roy (probably owing to wood's letter) seems determined to make me [as] comfortable as he possibly can. i like his manner of proceeding. he asked me at once, "shall you bear being told that i want the cabin to myself--when i want to be alone? if we treat each other this way, i hope we shall suit; if not, probably we should wish each other at the devil." we stop a week at [the] madeira islands, and shall see most of [the] big cities in south america. captain beaufort is drawing up the track through the south sea. i am writing in [a] great hurry; i do not know whether you take interest enough to excuse treble postage. i hope i am judging reasonably, and not through prejudice, about captain fitz-roy; if so, i am sure we shall suit. i dine with him to-day. i could write [a] great deal more if i thought you liked it, and i had at present time. there is indeed a tide in the affairs of man, and i have experienced it, and i had entirely given it up till one to-day. love to my father. dearest susan, good-bye. ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. london, monday, [september , ]. my dear sir, gloria in excelsis is the most moderate beginning i can think of. things are more prosperous than i should have thought possible. captain fitz-roy is everything that is delightful. if i was to praise half so much as i feel inclined, you would say it was absurd, only once seeing him. i think he really wishes to have me. he offers me to mess with him, and he will take care i have such room as is possible. but about the cases he says i must limit myself; but then he thinks like a sailor about size. captain beaufort says i shall be upon the boards, and then it will only cost me like other officers. ship sails th of october. spends a week at madeira islands; and then rio de janeiro. they all think most extremely probable, home by the indian archipelago; but till that is decided, i will not be so. what has induced captain fitz-roy to take a better view of the case is, that mr. chester, who was going as a friend, cannot go, so that i shall have his place in every respect. captain fitz-roy has [a] good stock of books, many of which were in my list, and rifles, etc., so that the outfit will be much less expensive than i supposed. the vessel will be out three years. i do not object so that my father does not. on wednesday i have another interview with captain beaufort, and on sunday most likely go with captain fitz-roy to plymouth. so i hope you will keep on thinking on the subject, and just keep memoranda of what may strike you. i will call most probably on mr. burchell and introduce myself. i am in lodgings at spring gardens. you cannot imagine anything more pleasant, kind, and open than captain fitz-roy's manners were to me. i am sure it will be my fault if we do not suit. what changes i have had. till one to-day i was building castles in the air about hunting foxes the shropshire, now llamas in south america. there is indeed a tide in the affairs of men. if you see mr. wood, remember me very kindly to him. good-bye. my dear henslow, your most sincere friend, chas. darwin. excuse this letter in such a hurry. charles darwin to w.d. fox. spring gardens, london, september , .... your letter gave me great pleasure. you cannot imagine how much your former letter annoyed and hurt me. (he had misunderstood a letter of fox's as implying a charge of falsehood.) but, thank heaven, i firmly believe that it was my own entire fault in so interpreting your letter. i lost a friend the other day, and i doubt whether the moral death (as i then wickedly supposed) of our friendship did not grieve me as much as the real and sudden death of poor ramsay. we have known each other too long to need, i trust, any more explanations. but i will mention just one thing--that on my death-bed, i think i could say i never uttered one insincere (which at the time i did not fully feel) expression about my regard for you. one thing more--the sending immediately the insects, on my honour, was an unfortunate coincidence. i forgot how you naturally would take them. when you look at them now, i hope no unkindly feelings will rise in your mind, and that you will believe that you have always had in me a sincere, and i will add, an obliged friend. the very many pleasant minutes that we spent together in cambridge rose like departed spirits in judgment against me. may we have many more such, will be one of my last wishes in leaving england. god bless you, dear old fox. may you always be happy. yours truly, chas. darwin. i have left your letter behind, so do not know whether i direct right. charles darwin to miss susan darwin. spring gardens, tuesday, [september , .] my dear susan, again i am going to trouble you. i suspect, if i keep on at this rate, you will sincerely wish me at tierra del fuego, or any other terra, but england. first i will give my commissions. tell nancy to make me some twelve instead of eight shirts. tell edward to send me up in my carpet-bag (he can slip the key in the bag tied to some string), my slippers, a pair of lightish walking-shoes, my spanish books, my new microscope (about six inches long and three or four deep), which must have cotton stuffed inside; my geological compass; my father knows that; a little book, if i have got it in my bedroom--'taxidermy.' ask my father if he thinks there would be any objection to my taking arsenic for a little time, as my hands are not quite well, and i have always observed that if i once get them well, and change my manner of living about the same time, they will generally remain well. what is the dose? tell edward my gun is dirty. what is erasmus's direction? tell me if you think there is time to write and receive an answer before i start, as i should like particularly to know what he thinks about it. i suppose you do not know sir j. mackintosh's direction? i write all this as if it was settled, but it is not more than it was, excepting that from captain fitz-roy wishing me so much to go, and from his kindness, i feel a predestination i shall start. i spent a very pleasant evening with him yesterday. he must be more than twenty-three years old; he is of a slight figure, and a dark but handsome edition of mr. kynaston, and, according to my notions, pre-eminently good manners. he is all for economy, excepting on one point--viz., fire-arms. he recommends me strongly to get a case of pistols like his, which cost pounds!! and never to go on shore anywhere without loaded ones, and he is doubting about a rifle; he says i cannot appreciate the luxury of fresh meat here. of course i shall buy nothing till everything is settled; but i work all day long at my lists, putting in and striking out articles. this is the first really cheerful day i have spent since i received the letter, and it all is owing to the sort of involuntary confidence i place in my beau ideal of a captain. we stop at teneriffe. his object is to stop at as many places as possible. he takes out twenty chronometers, and it will be a "sin" not to settle the longitude. he tells me to get it down in writing at the admiralty that i have the free choice to leave as soon and whenever i like. i dare say you expect i shall turn back at the madeira; if i have a morsel of stomach left, i won't give up. excuse my so often troubling and writing: the one is of great utility, the other a great amusement to me. most likely i shall write to-morrow. answer by return of post. love to my father, dearest susan. c. darwin. as my instruments want altering, send my things by the 'oxonian' the same night. charles darwin to miss susan darwin. london, friday morning, september , . my dear susan, i have just received the parcel. i suppose it was not delivered yesterday owing to the coronation. i am very much obliged to my father, and everybody else. everything is done quite right. i suppose by this time you have received my letter written next day, and i hope will send off the things. my affairs remain in statu quo. captain beaufort says i am on the books for victuals, and he thinks i shall have no difficulty about my collections when i come home. but he is too deep a fish for me to make him out. the only thing that now prevents me finally making up my mind, is the want of certainty about the south sea islands; although morally i have no doubt we should go there whether or no it is put in the instructions. captain fitz-roy says i do good by plaguing captain beaufort, it stirs him up with a long pole. captain fitz-roy says he is sure he has interest enough (particularly if this administration is not everlasting--i shall soon turn tory!), anyhow, even when out, to get the ship ordered home by whatever track he likes. from what wood says, i presume the dukes of grafton and richmond interest themselves about him. by the way, wood has been of the greatest use to me; and i am sure his personal introduction of me inclined captain fitz-roy to have me. to explain things from the very beginning: captain fitz-roy first wished to have a naturalist, and then he seems to have taken a sudden horror of the chances of having somebody he should not like on board the vessel. he confesses his letter to cambridge was to throw cold water on the scheme. i don't think we shall quarrel about politics, although wood (as might be expected from a londonderry) solemnly warned fitz-roy that i was a whig. captain fitz-roy was before uncle jos., he said, "now your friends will tell you a sea-captain is the greatest brute on the face of the creation. i do not know how to help you in this case, except by hoping you will give me a trial." how one does change! i actually now wish the voyage was longer before we touch land. i feel my blood run cold at the quantity i have to do. everybody seems ready to assist me. the zoological want to make me a corresponding member. all this i can construct without crossing the equator. but one friend is quite invaluable, viz., a mr. yarrell, a stationer, and excellent naturalist. (william yarrell, well-known for his 'history of british birds' and 'history of british fishes,' was born in . he inherited from his father a newsagent's business, to which he steadily adhered up to his death, "in his rd year." he was a man of a thoroughly amiable and honourable character, and was a valued office-bearer of several of the learned societies.) he goes to the shops with me and bullies about prices (not that i yet buy): hang me if i give pounds for pistols. yesterday all the shops were shut, so that i could do nothing; and i was child enough to give pound shilling for an excellent seat to see the procession. (the coronation of william iv.) and it certainly was very well worth seeing. i was surprised that any quantity of gold could make a long row of people quite glitter. it was like only what one sees in picture-books of eastern processions. the king looked very well, and seemed popular, but there was very little enthusiasm; so little that i can hardly think there will be a coronation this time fifty years. the life guards pleased me as much as anything--they are quite magnificent; and it is beautiful to see them clear a crowd. you think that they must kill a score at least, and apparently they really hurt nobody, but most deucedly frighten them. whenever a crowd was so dense that the people were forced off the causeway, one of these six-feet gentlemen, on a black horse, rode straight at the place, making his horse rear very high, and fall on the thickest spot. you would suppose men were made of sponge to see them shrink away. in the evening there was an illumination, and much grander than the one on the reform bill. all the principal streets were crowded just like a race-ground. carriages generally being six abreast, and i will venture to say not going one mile an hour. the duke of northumberland learnt a lesson last time, for his house was very grand; much more so than the other great nobility, and in much better taste; every window in his house was full of straight lines of brilliant lights, and from their extreme regularity and number had a beautiful effect. the paucity of invention was very striking, crowns, anchors, and "w.r.'s" were repeated in endless succession. the prettiest were gas-pipes with small holes; they were almost painfully brilliant. i have written so much about the coronation, that i think you will have no occasion to read the "morning herald". for about the first time in my life i find london very pleasant; hurry, bustle, and noise are all in unison with my feelings. and i have plenty to do in spare moments. i work at astronomy, as i suppose it would astound a sailor if one did not know how to find latitude and longitude. i am now going to captain fitz-roy, and will keep [this] letter open till evening for anything that may occur. i will give you one proof of fitz-roy being a good officer--all the officers are the same as before; two-thirds of his crew and [the] eight marines who went before all offered to come again, so the service cannot be so very bad. the admiralty have just issued orders for a large stock of canister-meat and lemon-juice, etc. etc. i have just returned from spending a long day with captain fitz-roy, driving about in his gig, and shopping. this letter is too late for to-day's post. you may consider it settled that i go. yet there is room for change if any untoward accident should happen; this i can see no reason to expect. i feel convinced nothing else will alter my wish of going. i have begun to order things. i have procured a case of good strong pistols and an excellent rifle for pounds, there is a saving; a good telescope, with compass, pounds, and these are nearly the only expensive instruments i shall want. captain fitz-roy has everything. i never saw so (what i should call, he says not) extravagant a man, as regards himself, but as economical towards me. how he did order things! his fire-arms will cost pounds at least. i found the carpet bag when i arrived all right, and much obliged. i do not think i shall take any arsenic; shall send partridges to mr. yarrell; much obliged. ask edward to bargain with clemson to make for my gun--two spare hammers or cocks, two main-springs, two sere-springs, four nipples or plugs--i mean one for each barrel, except nipples, of which there must be two for each, all of excellent quality, and set about them immediately; tell edward to make inquiries about prices. i go on sunday per packet to plymouth, shall stay one or two days, then return, and hope to find a letter from you; a few days in london; then cambridge, shrewsbury, london, plymouth, madeira, is my route. it is a great bore my writing so much about the coronation; i could fill another sheet. i have just been with captain king, fitz-roy's senior officer last expedition; he thinks that the expedition will suit me. unasked, he said fitz-roy's temper was perfect. he sends his own son with him as midshipman. the key of my microscope was forgotten; it is of no consequence. love to all. chas. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. spring gardens (and here i shall remain till i start) [september , ]. my dear fox, i returned from my expedition to see the "beagle" at plymouth on saturday, and found your most welcome letter on my table. it is quite ridiculous what a very long period these last twenty days have appeared to me, certainly much more than as many weeks on ordinary occasions; this will account for my not recollecting how much i told you of my plans.... but on the whole it is a grand and fortunate opportunity; there will be so many things to interest me--fine scenery and an endless occupation and amusement in the different branches of natural history; then again navigation and meteorology will amuse me on the voyage, joined to the grand requisite of there being a pleasant set of officers, and, as far as i can judge, this is certain. on the other hand there is very considerable risk to one's life and health, and the leaving for so very long a time so many people whom i dearly love, is oftentimes a feeling so painful that it requires all my resolution to overcome it. but everything is now settled, and before the th of october i trust to be on the broad sea. my objection to the vessel is its smallness, which cramps one so for room for packing my own body and all my cases, etc., etc. as to its safety, i hope the admiralty are the best judges; to a landsman's eye she looks very small. she is a ten-gun three-masted brig, but, i believe, an excellent vessel. so much for my future plans, and now for my present. i go to-night by the mail to cambridge, and from thence, after settling my affairs, proceed to shrewsbury (most likely on friday rd, or perhaps before); there i shall stay a few days, and be in london by the st of october, and start for plymouth on the th. and now for the principal part of my letter. i do not know how to tell you how very kind i feel your offer of coming to see me before i leave england. indeed i should like it very much; but i must tell you decidedly that i shall have very little time to spare, and that little time will be almost spoilt by my having so much to think about; and secondly, i can hardly think it worth your while to leave your parish for such a cause. but i shall never forget such generous kindness. now i know you will act just as you think right; but do not come up for my sake. any time is the same for me. i think from this letter you will know as much of my plans as i do myself, and will judge accordingly the where and when to write to me. every now and then i have moments of glorious enthusiasm, when i think of the date and cocoa-trees, the palms and ferns so lofty and beautiful, everything new, everything sublime. and if i live to see years in after life, how grand must such recollections be! do you know humboldt? (if you don't, do so directly.) with what intense pleasure he appears always to look back on the days spent in the tropical countries. i hope when you next write to osmaston, [you will] tell them my scheme, and give them my kindest regards and farewells. good-bye, my dear fox, yours ever sincerely, chas. darwin. charles darwin to r. fitz-roy. spring gardens [october ? ]. dear fitz-roy, very many thanks for your letter; it has made me most comfortable, for it would have been heart-breaking to have left anything quite behind, and i never should have thought of sending things by some other vessel. this letter will, i trust, accompany some talc. i read your letter without attending to the name. but i have now procured some from jones, which appears very good, and i will send it this evening by the mail. you will be surprised at not seeing me propria persona instead of my handwriting. but i had just found out that the large steam-packet did not intend to sail on sunday, and i was picturing to myself a small, dirty cabin, with the proportion of - ths of the passengers very sick, when mr. earl came in and told me the "beagle" would not sail till the beginning of november. this, of course, settled the point; so that i remain in london one week more. i shall then send heavy goods by steamer and start myself by the coach on sunday evening. have you a good set of mountain barometers? several great guns in the scientific world have told me some points in geology to ascertain which entirely depend on their relative height. if you have not a good stock, i will add one more to the list. i ought to be ashamed to trouble you so much, but will you send one line to inform me? i am daily becoming more anxious to be off, and, if i am so, you must be in a perfect fever. what a glorious day the th of november will be to me! my second life will then commence, and it shall be as a birthday for the rest of my life. believe me, dear fitz-roy, yours most sincerely, chas. darwin. monday.--i hope i have not put you to much inconvenience by ordering the room in readiness. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. devonport, november , . my dear henslow, the orders are come down from the admiralty, and everything is finally settled. we positively sail the last day of this month, and i think before that time the vessel will be ready. she looks most beautiful, even a landsman must admire her. we all think her the most perfect vessel ever turned out of the dockyard. one thing is certain, no vessel has been fitted out so expensively, and with so much care. everything that can be made so is of mahogany, and nothing can exceed the neatness and beauty of all the accommodations. the instructions are very general, and leave a great deal to the captain's discretion and judgment, paying a substantial as well as a verbal compliment to him.... no vessel ever left england with such a set of chronometers, viz., twenty-four, all very good ones. in short, everything is well, and i have only now to pray for the sickness to moderate its fierceness, and i shall do very well. yet i should not call it one of the very best opportunities for natural history that has ever occurred. the absolute want of room is an evil that nothing can surmount. i think l. jenyns did very wisely in not coming, that is judging from my own feelings, for i am sure if i had left college some few years, or been those years older, i never could have endured it. the officers (excepting the captain) are like the freshest freshmen, that is in their manners, in everything else widely different. remember me most kindly to him, and tell him if ever he dreams in the night of palm-trees, he may in the morning comfort himself with the assurance that the voyage would not have suited him. i am much obliged for your advice, de mathematicis. i suspect when i am struggling with a triangle, i shall often wish myself in your room, and as for those wicked sulky surds, i do not know what i shall do without you to conjure them. my time passes away very pleasantly. i know one or two pleasant people, foremost of whom is mr. thunder-and-lightning harris (william snow harris, the electrician.), whom i dare say you have heard of. my chief employment is to go on board the "beagle", and try to look as much like a sailor as i can. i have no evidence of having taken in man, woman or child. i am going to ask you to do one more commission, and i trust it will be the last. when i was in cambridge, i wrote to mr. ash, asking him to send my college account to my father, after having subtracted about pounds for my furniture. this he has forgotten to do, and my father has paid the bill, and i want to have the furniture-money transmitted to my father. perhaps you would be kind enough to speak to mr. ash. i have cost my father so much money, i am quite ashamed of myself. i will write once again before sailing, and perhaps you will write to me before then. remember me to professor sedgwick and mr. peacock. believe me, yours affectionately, chas. darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. devonport, december , . my dear henslow, it is now late in the evening, and to-night i am going to sleep on board. on monday we most certainly sail, so you may guess what a desperate state of confusion we are all in. if you were to hear the various exclamations of the officers, you would suppose we had scarcely had a week's notice. i am just in the same way taken all aback, and in such a bustle i hardly know what to do. the number of things to be done is infinite. i look forward even to sea-sickness with something like satisfaction, anything must be better than this state of anxiety. i am very much obliged for your last kind and affectionate letter. i always like advice from you, and no one whom i have the luck to know is more capable of giving it than yourself. recollect, when you write, that i am a sort of protege of yours, and that it is your bounden duty to lecture me. i will now give you my direction; it is at first, rio; but if you will send me a letter on the first tuesday (when the packet sails) in february, directed to monte video, it will give me very great pleasure; i shall so much enjoy hearing a little cambridge news. poor dear old alma mater! i am a very worthy son in as far as affection goes. i have little more to write about...i cannot end this without telling you how cordially i feel grateful for the kindness you have shown me during my cambridge life. much of the pleasure and utility which i may have derived from it is owing to you. i long for the time when we shall again meet, and till then believe me, my dear henslow, your affectionate and obliged friend, ch. darwin. remember me most kindly to those who take any interest in me. chapter .vi. -- the voyage. "there is a natural good-humoured energy in his letters just like himself."--from a letter of dr. r.w. darwin's to prof. henslow. [the object of the "beagle" voyage is briefly described in my father's 'journal of researches,' page , as being "to complete the survey of patagonia and tierra del fuego, commenced under captain king in to ; to survey the shores of chile, peru, and some island in the pacific; and to carry a chain of chronometrical measurements round the world."] the "beagle" is described as a well-built little vessel, of tons, rigged as a barque, and carrying six guns. she belonged to the old class of ten-gun brigs, which were nicknamed "coffins," from their liability to go down in severe weather. they were very "deep-waisted," that is, their bulwarks were high in proportion to their size, so that a heavy sea breaking over them might be highly dangerous. nevertheless, she lived through the five years' work, in the most stormy regions in the world, under commanders stokes and fitz-roy, without a serious accident. when re-commissioned in for her second voyage, she was found (as i learn from admiral sir james sulivan) to be so rotten that she had practically to be rebuilt, and it was this that caused the long delay in refitting. the upper deck was raised, making her much safer in heavy weather, and giving her far more comfortable accommodation below. by these alterations and by the strong sheathing added to her bottom she was brought up to tons burthen. it is a proof of the splendid seamanship of captain fitz-roy and his officers that she returned without having carried away a spar, and that in only one of the heavy storms that she encountered was she in great danger. she was fitted out for the expedition with all possible care, being supplied with carefully chosen spars and ropes, six boats, and a "dinghy;" lightning conductors, "invented by mr. harris, were fixed in all the masts, the bowsprits, and even in the flying jib-boom." to quote my father's description, written from devonport, november , : "everybody, who can judge, says it is one of the grandest voyages that has almost ever been sent out. everything is on a grand scale. twenty-four chronometers. the whole ship is fitted up with mahogany; she is the admiration of the whole place. in short, everything is as prosperous as human means can make it." owing to the smallness of the vessel, every one on board was cramped for room, and my father's accommodation seems to have been small enough: "i have just room to turn round," he writes to henslow, "and that is all." admiral sir james sulivan writes to me: "the narrow space at the end of the chart-table was his only accommodation for working, dressing, and sleeping; the hammock being left hanging over his head by day, when the sea was at all rough, that he might lie on it with a book in his hand when he could not any longer sit at the table. his only stowage for clothes being several small drawers in the corner, reaching from deck to deck; the top one being taken out when the hammock was hung up, without which there was not length for it, so then the foot-clews took the place of the top drawer. for specimens he had a very small cabin under the forecastle." yet of this narrow room he wrote enthusiastically, september , :-- "when i wrote last i was in great alarm about my cabin. the cabins were not then marked out, but when i left they were, and mine is a capital one, certainly next best to the captain's and remarkably light. my companion most luckily, i think, will turn out to be the officer whom i shall like best. captain fitz-roy says he will take care that one corner is so fitted up that i shall be comfortable in it and shall consider it my home, but that also i shall have the run of his. my cabin is the drawing one; and in the middle is a large table, on which we two sleep in hammocks. but for the first two months there will be no drawing to be done, so that it will be quite a luxurious room, and good deal larger than the captain's cabin." my father used to say that it was the absolute necessity of tidiness in the cramped space of the "beagle" that helped 'to give him his methodical habits of working.' on the "beagle", too, he would say, that he learned what he considered the golden rule for saving time; i.e., taking care of the minutes. sir james sulivan tells me that the chief fault in the outfit of the expedition was the want of a second smaller vessel to act as tender. this want was so much felt by captain fitz-roy that he hired two decked boats to survey the coast of patagonia, at a cost of pounds, a sum which he had to supply, although the boats saved several thousand pounds to the country. he afterwards bought a schooner to act as a tender, thus saving the country a further large amount. he was ultimately ordered to sell the schooner, and was compelled to bear the loss himself, and it was only after his death that some inadequate compensation was made for all the losses which he suffered through his zeal. for want of a proper tender, much of the work had to be done in small open whale boats, which were sent away from the ship for weeks together, and this in a climate, where the crews were exposed to severe hardships from the almost constant rains, which sometimes continued for weeks together. the completeness of the equipment was also in other respects largely due to the public spirit of captain fitz-roy. he provided at his own cost an artist, and a skilled instrument-maker to look after the chronometers. (either one or both were on the books for victuals.) captain fitz-roy's wish was to take "some well-educated and scientific person" as his private guest, but this generous offer was only accepted by my father on condition of being allowed to pay a fair share of the expense of the captain's table; he was, moreover, on the ship's books for victuals. in a letter to his sister (july ) he writes contentedly of his manner of life at sea:--"i do not think i have ever given you an account of how the day passes. we breakfast at eight o'clock. the invariable maxim is to throw away all politeness--that is, never to wait for each other, and bolt off the minute one has done eating, etc. at sea, when the weather is calm, i work at marine animals, with which the whole ocean abounds. if there is any sea up i am either sick or contrive to read some voyage or travels. at one we dine. you shore-going people are lamentably mistaken about the manner of living on board. we have never yet (nor shall we) dined off salt meat. rice and peas and calavanses are excellent vegetables, and, with good bread, who could want more? judge alderson could not be more temperate, as nothing but water comes on the table. at five we have tea. the midshipmen's berth have all their meals an hour before us, and the gun-room an hour afterwards." the crew of the "beagle" consisted of captain fitz-roy, "commander and surveyor," two lieutenants, one of whom (the first lieutenant) was the late captain wickham, governor of queensland; the present admiral sir james sulivan, k.c.b., was the second lieutenant. besides the master and two mates, there was an assistant-surveyor, the present admiral lort stokes. there were also a surgeon, assistant-surgeon, two midshipmen, master's mate, a volunteer ( st class), purser, carpenter, clerk, boatswain, eight marines, thirty-four seamen, and six boys. there are not now ( ) many survivors of my father's old ship-mates. admiral mellersh, mr. hammond, and mr. philip king, of the legislative council of sydney, and mr. usborne, are among the number. admiral johnson died almost at the same time as my father. he retained to the last a most pleasant recollection of the voyage of the "beagle", and of the friends he made on board her. to his children their names were familiar, from his many stories of the voyage, and we caught his feeling of friendship for many who were to us nothing more than names. it is pleasant to know how affectionately his old companions remembered him. sir james sulivan remained, throughout my father's lifetime, one of his best and truest friends. he writes:--"i can confidently express my belief that during the five years in the "beagle", he was never known to be out of temper, or to say one unkind or hasty word of or to any one. you will therefore readily understand how this, combined with the admiration of his energy and ability, led to our giving him the name of 'the dear old philosopher.'" (his other nickname was "the flycatcher." i have heard my father tell how he overheard the boatswain of the "beagle" showing another boatswain over the ship, and pointing out the officers: "that's our first lieutenant; that's our doctor; that's our flycatcher.") admiral mellersh writes to me:--"your father is as vividly in my mind's eye as if it was only a week ago that i was in the "beagle" with him; his genial smile and conversation can never be forgotten by any who saw them and heard them. i was sent on two or three occasions away in a boat with him on some of his scientific excursions, and always looked forward to these trips with great pleasure, an anticipation that, unlike many others, was always realised. i think he was the only man i ever knew against whom i never heard a word said; and as people when shut up in a ship for five years are apt to get cross with each other, that is saying a good deal. certainly we were always so hard at work, we had no time to quarrel, but if we had done so, i feel sure your father would have tried (and have been successful) to throw oil on the troubled waters." admiral stokes, mr. king, mr. usborne, and mr. hamond, all speak of their friendship with him in the same warm-hearted way. of the life on board and on shore his letters give some idea. captain fitz-roy was a strict officer, and made himself thoroughly respected both by officers and men. the occasional severity of his manner was borne with because every one on board knew that his first thought was his duty, and that he would sacrifice anything to the real welfare of the ship. my father writes, july , "we all jog on very well together, there is no quarrelling on board, which is something to say. the captain keeps all smooth by rowing every one in turn." the best proof that fitz-roy was valued as a commander is given by the fact that many ('voyage of the "adventure" and "beagle",' vol. ii. page .) of the crew had sailed with him in the "beagle's" former voyage, and there were a few officers as well as seamen and marines, who had served in the "adventure" or "beagle" during the whole of that expedition. my father speaks of the officers as a fine determined set of men, and especially of wickham, the first lieutenant, as a "glorious fellow." the latter being responsible for the smartness and appearance of the ship strongly objected to his littering the decks, and spoke of specimens as "d--d beastly devilment," and used to add, "if i were skipper, i would soon have you and all your d--d mess out of the place." a sort of halo of sanctity was given to my father by the fact of his dining in the captain's cabin, so that the midshipmen used at first to call him "sir," a formality, however, which did not prevent his becoming fast friends with the younger officers. he wrote about the year or to mr. p.g. king, m.l.c., sydney, who, as before stated, was a midshipman on board the "beagle":--"the remembrance of old days, when we used to sit and talk on the booms of the "beagle", will always, to the day of my death, make me glad to hear of your happiness and prosperity." mr. king describes the pleasure my father seemed to take "in pointing out to me as a youngster the delights of the tropical nights, with their balmy breezes eddying out of the sails above us, and the sea lighted up by the passage of the ship through the never-ending streams of phosphorescent animalculae." it has been assumed that his ill-health in later years was due to his having suffered so much from sea-sickness. this he did not himself believe, but rather ascribed his bad health to the hereditary fault which came out as gout in some of the past generations. i am not quite clear as to how much he actually suffered from sea-sickness; my impression is distinct that, according to his own memory, he was not actually ill after the first three weeks, but constantly uncomfortable when the vessel pitched at all heavily. but, judging from his letters, and from the evidence of some of the officers, it would seem that in later years he forgot the extent of the discomfort from which he suffered. writing june , , from the cape of good hope, he says: "it is a lucky thing for me that the voyage is drawing to its close, for i positively suffer more from sea-sickness now than three years ago." admiral lort stokes wrote to the "times", april , :-- "may i beg a corner for my feeble testimony to the marvellous persevering endurance in the cause of science of that great naturalist, my old and lost friend, mr. charles darwin, whose remains are so very justly to be honoured with a resting-place in westminster abbey? "perhaps no one can better testify to his early and most trying labours than myself. we worked together for several years at the same table in the poop cabin of the 'beagle' during her celebrated voyage, he with his microscope and myself at the charts. it was often a very lively end of the little craft, and distressingly so to my old friend, who suffered greatly from sea-sickness. after perhaps an hour's work he would say to me, 'old fellow, i must take the horizontal for it,' that being the best relief position from ship motion; a stretch out on one side of the table for some time would enable him to resume his labours for a while, when he had again to lie down. "it was distressing to witness this early sacrifice of mr. darwin's health, who ever afterwards seriously felt the ill-effects of the 'beagle's' voyage." mr. a.b. usborne writes, "he was a dreadful sufferer from sea-sickness, and at times, when i have been officer of the watch, and reduced the sails, making the ship more easy, and thus relieving him, i have been pronounced by him to be 'a good officer,' and he would resume his microscopic observations in the poop cabin." the amount of work that he got through on the "beagle" shows that he was habitually in full vigour; he had, however, one severe illness, in south america, when he was received into the house of an englishman, mr. corfield, who tended him with careful kindness. i have heard him say that in this illness every secretion of the body was affected, and that when he described the symptoms to his father dr. darwin could make no guess as to the nature of the disease. my father was sometimes inclined to think that the breaking up of his health was to some extent due to this attack. the "beagle" letters give ample proof of his strong love of home, and all connected with it, from his father down to nancy, his old nurse, to whom he sometimes sends his love. his delight in home-letters is shown in such passages as:--"but if you knew the glowing, unspeakable delight, which i felt at being certain that my father and all of you were well, only four months ago, you would not grudge the labour lost in keeping up the regular series of letters." or again--his longing to return in words like these:--"it is too delightful to think that i shall see the leaves fall and hear the robin sing next autumn at shrewsbury. my feelings are those of a schoolboy to the smallest point; i doubt whether ever boy longed for his holidays as much as i do to see you all again. i am at present, although nearly half the world is between me and home, beginning to arrange what i shall do, where i shall go during the first week." another feature in his letters is the surprise and delight with which he hears of his collections and observations being of some use. it seems only to have gradually occurred to him that he would ever be more than collector of specimens and facts, of which the great men were to make use. and even as to the value of his collections he seems to have had much doubt, for he wrote to henslow in :--"i really began to think that my collections were so poor that you were puzzled what to say; the case is now quite on the opposite tack, for you are guilty of exciting all my vain feelings to a most comfortable pitch; if hard work will atone for these thoughts, i vow it shall not be spared." after his return and settlement in london, he began to realise the value of what he had done, and wrote to captain fitz-roy--"however others may look back to the 'beagle's' voyage, now that the small disagreeable parts are well-nigh forgotten, i think it far the most fortunate circumstance in my life that the chance afforded by your offer of taking a naturalist fell on me. i often have the most vivid and delightful pictures of what i saw on board the 'beagle' pass before my eyes. these recollections, and what i learnt on natural history, i would not exchange for twice ten thousand a year." [in selecting the following series of letters, i have been guided by the wish to give as much personal detail as possible. i have given only a few scientific letters, to illustrate the way in which he worked, and how he regarded his own results. in his 'journal of researches' he gives incidentally some idea of his personal character; the letters given in the present chapter serve to amplify in fresher and more spontaneous words that impression of his personality which the 'journal' has given to so many readers.] charles darwin to r.w. darwin. bahia, or san salvador, brazils [february , ]. i find after the first page i have been writing to my sisters. my dear father, i am writing this on the th of february, one day's sail past st. jago (cape de verd), and intend taking the chance of meeting with a homeward-bound vessel somewhere about the equator. the date, however, will tell this whenever the opportunity occurs. i will now begin from the day of leaving england, and give a short account of our progress. we sailed, as you know, on the th of december, and have been fortunate enough to have had from that time to the present a fair and moderate breeze. it afterwards proved that we had escaped a heavy gale in the channel, another at madeira, and another on [the] coast of africa. but in escaping the gale, we felt its consequences--a heavy sea. in the bay of biscay there was a long and continuous swell, and the misery i endured from sea-sickness is far beyond what i ever guessed at. i believe you are curious about it. i will give you all my dear-bought experience. nobody who has only been to sea for twenty-four hours has a right to say that sea-sickness is even uncomfortable. the real misery only begins when you are so exhausted that a little exertion makes a feeling of faintness come on. i found nothing but lying in my hammock did me any good. i must especially except your receipt of raisins, which is the only food that the stomach will bear. on the th of january we were not many miles from madeira, but as there was a heavy sea running, and the island lay to windward, it was not thought worth while to beat up to it. it afterwards has turned out it was lucky we saved ourselves the trouble. i was much too sick even to get up to see the distant outline. on the th, in the evening, we sailed into the harbour of santa cruz. i now first felt even moderately well, and i was picturing to myself all the delights of fresh fruits growing in beautiful valleys, and reading humboldt's descriptions of the island's glorious views, when perhaps you may nearly guess at our disappointment, when a small pale man informed us we must perform a strict quarantine of twelve days. there was a death-like stillness in the ship till the captain cried "up jib," and we left this long-wished for place. we were becalmed for a day between teneriffe and the grand canary, and here i first experienced any enjoyment. the view was glorious. the peak of teneriffe was seen amongst the clouds like another world. our only drawback was the extreme wish of visiting this glorious island. tell eyton never to forget either the canary islands or south america; that i am sure it will well repay the necessary trouble, but that he must make up his mind to find a good deal of the latter. i feel certain he will regret it if he does not make the attempt. from teneriffe to st. jago the voyage was extremely pleasant. i had a net astern the vessel which caught great numbers of curious animals, and fully occupied my time in my cabin, and on deck the weather was so delightful and clear, that the sky and water together made a picture. on the th we arrived at port praya, the capital of the cape de verds, and there we remained twenty-three days, viz., till yesterday, the th of february. the time has flown away most delightfully, indeed nothing can be pleasanter; exceedingly busy, and that business both a duty and a great delight. i do not believe i have spent one half-hour idly since leaving teneriffe. st. jago has afforded me an exceedingly rich harvest in several branches of natural history. i find the descriptions scarcely worth anything of many of the commoner animals that inhabit the tropics. i allude, of course, to those of the lower classes. geologising in a volcanic country is most delightful; besides the interest attached to itself, it leads you into most beautiful and retired spots. nobody but a person fond of natural history can imagine the pleasure of strolling under cocoa-nuts in a thicket of bananas and coffee-plants, and an endless number of wild flowers. and this island, that has given me so much instruction and delight, is reckoned the most uninteresting place that we perhaps shall touch at during our voyage. it certainly is generally very barren, but the valleys are more exquisitely beautiful, from the very contrast. it is utterly useless to say anything about the scenery; it would be as profitable to explain to a blind man colours, as to a person who has not been out of europe, the total dissimilarity of a tropical view. whenever i enjoy anything, i always either look forward to writing it down, either in my log-book (which increases in bulk), or in a letter; so you must excuse raptures, and those raptures badly expressed. i find my collections are increasing wonderfully, and from rio i think i shall be obliged to send a cargo home. all the endless delays which we experienced at plymouth have been most fortunate, as i verily believe no person ever went out better provided for collecting and observing in the different branches of natural history. in a multitude of counsellors i certainly found good. i find to my great surprise that a ship is singularly comfortable for all sorts of work. everything is so close at hand, and being cramped makes one so methodical, that in the end i have been a gainer. i already have got to look at going to sea as a regular quiet place, like going back to home after staying away from it. in short, i find a ship a very comfortable house, with everything you want, and if it was not for sea-sickness the whole world would be sailors. i do not think there is much danger of erasmus setting the example, but in case there should be, he may rely upon it he does not know one-tenth of the sufferings of sea-sickness. i like the officers much more than i did at first, especially wickham, and young king and stokes, and indeed all of them. the captain continues steadily very kind, and does everything in his power to assist me. we see very little of each other when in harbour, our pursuits lead us in such different tracks. i never in my life met with a man who could endure nearly so great a share of fatigue. he works incessantly, and when apparently not employed, he is thinking. if he does not kill himself, he will during this voyage do a wonderful quantity of work. i find i am very well, and stand the little heat we have had as yet as well as anybody. we shall soon have it in real earnest. we are now sailing for fernando noronha, off the coast of brazil, where we shall not stay very long, and then examine the shoals between there and rio, touching perhaps at bahia. i will finish this letter when an opportunity of sending it occurs. february th. about miles from bahia. on the th we spoke the packet "lyra", on her voyage to rio. i sent a short letter by her, to be sent to england on [the] first opportunity. we have been singularly unlucky in not meeting with any homeward-bound vessels, but i suppose [at] bahia we certainly shall be able to write to england. since writing the first part of [this] letter nothing has occurred except crossing the equator, and being shaved. this most disagreeable operation consists in having your face rubbed with paint and tar, which forms a lather for a saw which represents the razor, and then being half drowned in a sail filled with salt water. about miles north of the line we touched at the rocks of st. paul; this little speck (about / of a mile across) in the atlantic has seldom been visited. it is totally barren, but is covered by hosts of birds; they were so unused to men that we found we could kill plenty with stones and sticks. after remaining some hours on the island, we returned on board with the boat loaded with our prey. from this we went to fernando noronha, a small island where the [brazilians] send their exiles. the landing there was attended with so much difficulty owing [to] a heavy surf that the captain determined to sail the next day after arriving. my one day on shore was exceedingly interesting, the whole island is one single wood so matted together by creepers that it is very difficult to move out of the beaten path. i find the natural history of all these unfrequented spots most exceedingly interesting, especially the geology. i have written this much in order to save time at bahia. decidedly the most striking thing in the tropics is the novelty of the vegetable forms. cocoa-nuts could well be imagined from drawings, if you add to them a graceful lightness which no european tree partakes of. bananas and plantains are exactly the same as those in hothouses, the acacias or tamarinds are striking from the blueness of their foliage; but of the glorious orange trees, no description, no drawings, will give any just idea; instead of the sickly green of our oranges, the native ones exceed the portugal laurel in the darkness of their tint, and infinitely exceed it in beauty of form. cocoa-nuts, papaws, the light green bananas, and oranges, loaded with fruit, generally surround the more luxuriant villages. whilst viewing such scenes, one feels the impossibility that any description would come near the mark, much less be overdrawn. march st. bahia, or san salvador. i arrived at this place on the th of february, and am now writing this letter after having in real earnest strolled in the forests of the new world. no person could imagine anything so beautiful as the ancient town of bahia, it is fairly embosomed in a luxuriant wood of beautiful trees, and situated on a steep bank, and overlooks the calm waters of the great bay of all saints. the houses are white and lofty, and, from the windows being narrow and long, have a very light and elegant appearance. convents, porticos, and public buildings, vary the uniformity of the houses; the bay is scattered over with large ships; in short, and what can be said more, it is one of the finest views in the brazils. but the exquisite glorious pleasure of walking amongst such flowers, and such trees, cannot be comprehended but by those who have experienced it. although in so low a latitude the locality is not disagreeably hot, but at present it is very damp, for it is the rainy season. i find the climate as yet agrees admirably with me; it makes me long to live quietly for some time in such a country. if you really want to have [an idea] of tropical countries, study humboldt. skip the scientific parts, and commence after leaving teneriffe. my feelings amount to admiration the more i read him. tell eyton (i find i am writing to my sisters!) how exceedingly i enjoy america, and that i am sure it will be a great pity if he does not make a start. this letter will go on the th, and i am afraid will be some time before it reaches you; it must be a warning how in other parts of the world you may be a long time without hearing. a year might by accident thus pass. about the th we start for rio, but we remain some time on the way in sounding the albrolhos shoals. tell eyton as far as my experience goes let him study spanish, french, drawing, and humboldt. i do sincerely hope to hear of (if not to see him) in south america. i look forward to the letters in rio--till each one is acknowledged, mention its date in the next. we have beat all the ships in manoeuvring, so much so that the commanding officer says, we need not follow his example; because we do everything better than his great ship. i begin to take great interest in naval points, more especially now, as i find they all say we are the no. in south america. i suppose the captain is a most excellent officer. it was quite glorious to-day how we beat the "samarang" in furling sails. it is quite a new thing for a "sounding ship" to beat a regular man-of-war; and yet the "beagle" is not at all a particular ship. erasmus will clearly perceive it when he hears that in the night i have actually sat down in the sacred precincts of the quarter deck. you must excuse these queer letters, and recollect they are generally written in the evening after my day's work. i take more pains over my log-book, so that eventually you will have a good account of all the places i visit. hitherto the voyage has answered admirably to me, and yet i am now more fully aware of your wisdom in throwing cold water on the whole scheme; the chances are so numerous of turning out quite the reverse; to such an extent do i feel this, that if my advice was asked by any person on a similar occasion, i should be very cautious in encouraging him. i have not time to write to anybody else, so send to maer to let them know, that in the midst of the glorious tropical scenery, i do not forget how instrumental they were in placing me there. i will not rapturise again, but i give myself great credit in not being crazy out of pure delight. give my love to every soul at home, and to the owens. i think one's affections, like other good things, flourish and increase in these tropical regions. the conviction that i am walking in the new world is even yet marvellous in my own eyes, and i dare say it is little less so to you, the receiving a letter from a son of yours in such a quarter. believe me, my dear father, your most affectionate son, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. botofogo bay, near rio de janeiro, may, . my dear fox, i have delayed writing to you and all my other friends till i arrived here and had some little spare time. my mind has been, since leaving england, in a perfect hurricane of delight and astonishment, and to this hour scarcely a minute has passed in idleness... at st. jago my natural history and most delightful labours commenced. during the three weeks i collected a host of marine animals, and enjoyed many a good geological walk. touching at some islands, we sailed to bahia, and from thence to rio, where i have already been some weeks. my collections go on admirably in almost every branch. as for insects, i trust i shall send a host of undescribed species to england. i believe they have no small ones in the collections, and here this morning i have taken minute hydropori, noterus, colymbetes, hydrophilus, hydrobius, gromius, etc., etc., as specimens of fresh-water beetles. i am entirely occupied with land animals, as the beach is only sand. spiders and the adjoining tribes have perhaps given me, from their novelty, the most pleasure. i think i have already taken several new genera. but geology carries the day: it is like the pleasure of gambling. speculating, on first arriving, what the rocks may be, i often mentally cry out to tertiary against primitive; but the latter have hitherto won all the bets. so much for the grand end of my voyage; in other respects things are equally flourishing. my life, when at sea, is so quiet, that to a person who can employ himself, nothing can be pleasanter; the beauty of the sky and brilliancy of the ocean together make a picture. but when on shore, and wandering in the sublime forests, surrounded by views more gorgeous than even claude ever imagined, i enjoy a delight which none but those who have experienced it can understand. if it is to be done, it must be by studying humboldt. at our ancient snug breakfasts, at cambridge, i little thought that the wide atlantic would ever separate us; but it is a rare privilege that with the body, the feelings and memory are not divided. on the contrary, the pleasantest scenes in my life, many of which have been in cambridge, rise from the contrast of the present, the more vividly in my imagination. do you think any diamond beetle will ever give me so much pleasure as our old friend crux major?... it is one of my most constant amusements to draw pictures of the past; and in them i often see you and poor little fran. oh, lord, and then old dash, poor thing! do you recollect how you all tormented me about his beautiful tail? ...think when you are picking insects off a hawthorn-hedge on a fine may day (wretchedly cold, i have no doubt), think of me collecting amongst pine-apples and orange-trees; whilst staining your fingers with dirty blackberries, think and be envious of ripe oranges. this is a proper piece of bravado, for i would walk through many a mile of sleet, snow, or rain to shake you by the hand. my dear old fox, god bless you. believe me, yours affectionately, chas. darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. rio de janeiro, may , . my dear henslow,... till arriving at teneriffe (we did not touch at madeira) i was scarcely out of my hammock, and really suffered more than you can well imagine from such a cause. at santa cruz, whilst looking amongst the clouds for the peak, and repeating to myself humboldt's sublime descriptions, it was announced we must perform twelve days' strict quarantine. we had made a short passage, so "up jib," and away for st. jago. you will say all this sounds very bad, and so it was; but from that to the present time it has been nearly one scene of continual enjoyment. a net over the stern kept me at full work till we arrived at st. jago. here we spent three most delightful weeks. the geology was pre-eminently interesting, and i believe quite new; there are some facts on a large scale of upraised coast (which is an excellent epoch for all the volcanic rocks to date from), that would interest mr. lyell. one great source of perplexity to me is an utter ignorance whether i note the right facts, and whether they are of sufficient importance to interest others. in the one thing collecting i cannot go wrong. st. jago is singularly barren, and produces few plants or insects, so that my hammer was my usual companion, and in its company most delightful hours i spent. on the coast i collected many marine animals, chiefly gasteropodous (i think some new). i examined pretty accurately a caryopyllia, and, if my eyes are not bewitched, former descriptions have not the slightest resemblance to the animal. i took several specimens of an octopus which possessed a most marvellous power of changing its colours, equalling any chameleon, and evidently accommodating the changes to the colour of the ground which it passed over. yellowish green, dark brown, and red, were the prevailing colours; this fact appears to be new, as far as i can find out. geology and the invertebrate animals will be my chief object of pursuit through the whole voyage. we then sailed for bahia, and touched at the rock of st. paul. this is a serpentine formation. is it not the only island in the atlantic which is not volcanic? we likewise stayed a few hours at fernando noronha; a tremendous surf was running so that a boat was swamped, and the captain would not wait. i find my life on board when we are on blue water most delightful, so very comfortable and quiet--it is almost impossible to be idle, and that for me is saying a good deal. nobody could possibly be better fitted in every respect for collecting than i am; many cooks have not spoiled the broth this time. mr. brown's little hints about microscopes, etc., have been invaluable. i am well off in books, the 'dictionnaire classique' is most useful. if you should think of any thing or book that would be useful to me, if you would write one line, e. darwin, wyndham club, st. james's street, he will procure them, and send them with some other things to monte video, which for the next year will be my headquarters. touching at the abrolhos, we arrived here on april th, when amongst others i received your most kind letter. you may rely on it during the evening i thought of the many most happy hours i have spent with you in cambridge. i am now living at botofogo, a village about a league from the city, and shall be able to remain a month longer. the "beagle" has gone back to bahia, and will pick me up on its return. there is a most important error in the longitude of south america, to settle which this second trip has been undertaken. our chronometers, at least sixteen of them, are going superbly; none on record have ever gone at all like them. a few days after arriving i started on an expedition of miles to rio macao, which lasted eighteen days. here i first saw a tropical forest in all its sublime grander--nothing but the reality can give any idea how wonderful, how magnificent the scene is. if i was to specify any one thing i should give the pre-eminence to the host of parasitical plants. your engraving is exactly true, but underrates rather than exaggerates the luxuriance. i never experienced such intense delight. i formerly admired humboldt, i now almost adore him; he alone gives any notion of the feelings which are raised in the mind on first entering the tropics. i am now collecting fresh-water and land animals; if what was told me in london is true, viz., that there are no small insects in the collections from the tropics, i tell entomologists to look out and have their pens ready for describing. i have taken as minute (if not more so) as in england, hydropori, hygroti, hydrobii, pselaphi, staphylini, curculio, etc. etc. it is exceedingly interesting observing the difference of genera and species from those which i know, it is however much less than i had expected. i am at present red-hot with spiders; they are very interesting, and if i am not mistaken i have already taken some new genera. i shall have a large box to send very soon to cambridge, and with that i will mention some more natural history particulars. the captain does everything in his power to assist me, and we get on very well, but i thank my better fortune he has not made me a renegade to whig principles. i would not be a tory, if it was merely on account of their cold hearts about that scandal to christian nations--slavery. i am very good friends with all the officers. i have just returned from a walk, and as a specimen, how little the insects are known. noterus, according to the 'dictionary classique,' contains solely three european species. i in one haul of my net took five distinct species; is this not quite extraordinary?... tell professor sedgwick he does not know how much i am indebted to him for the welsh expedition; it has given me an interest in geology which i would not give up for any consideration. i do not think i ever spent a more delightful three weeks than pounding the north-west mountains. i look forward to the geology about monte video as i hear there are slates there, so i presume in that district i shall find the junctions of the pampas, and the enormous granite formation of brazils. at bahia the pegmatite and gneiss in beds had the same direction, as observed by humboldt, prevailing over columbia, distant miles--is it not wonderful? monte video will be for a long time my direction. i hope you will write again to me, there is nobody from whom i like receiving advice so much as from you...excuse this almost unintelligible letter, and believe me, my dear henslow, with the warmest feelings of respect and friendship, yours affectionately, chas. darwin. charles darwin to j.m. herbert. botofogo bay, rio de janeiro, june . my dear old herbert, your letter arrived here when i had given up all hopes of receiving another, it gave me, therefore, an additional degree of pleasure. at such an interval of time and space one does learn to feel truly obliged to those who do not forget one. the memory when recalling scenes past by, affords to us exiles one of the greatest pleasures. often and often whilst wandering amongst these hills do i think of barmouth, and, i may add, as often wish for such a companion. what a contrast does a walk in these two places afford; here abrupt and stony peaks are to the very summit enclosed by luxuriant woods; the whole surface of the country, excepting where cleared by man, is one impenetrable forest. how different from wales, with its sloping hills covered with turf, and its open valleys. i was not previously aware how intimately what may be called the moral part is connected with the enjoyment of scenery. i mean such ideas, as the history of the country, the utility of the produce, and more especially the happiness of the people living with them. change the english labourer into a poor slave, working for another, and you will hardly recognise the same view. i am sure you will be glad to hear how very well every part (heaven forefend, except sea-sickness) of the expedition has answered. we have already seen teneriffe and the great canary; st. jago where i spent three most delightful weeks, revelling in the delights of first naturalising a tropical volcanic island, and besides other islands, the two celebrated ports in the brazils, viz. bahia and rio. i was in my hammock till we arrived at the canaries, and i shall never forget the sublime impression the first view of teneriffe made on my mind. the first arriving into warm weather was most luxuriously pleasant; the clear blue sky of the tropics was no common change after those accursed south-west gales at plymouth. about the line it became weltering hot. we spent one day at st. paul's, a little group of rocks about a quarter of a mile in circumference, peeping up in the midst of the atlantic. there was such a scene here. wickham ( st lieutenant) and i were the only two who landed with guns and geological hammers, etc. the birds by myriads were too close to shoot; we then tried stones, but at last, proh pudor! my geological hammer was the instrument of death. we soon loaded the boat with birds and eggs. whilst we were so engaged, the men in the boat were fairly fighting with the sharks for such magnificent fish as you could not see in the london market. our boat would have made a fine subject for snyders, such a medley of game it contained. we have been here ten weeks, and shall now start for monte video, when i look forward to many a gallop over the pampas. i am ashamed of sending such a scrambling letter, but if you were to see the heap of letters on my table you would understand the reason... i am glad to hear music flourishes so well in cambridge; but it [is] as barbarous to talk to me of "celestial concerts" as to a person in arabia of cold water. in a voyage of this sort, if one gains many new and great pleasures, on the other side the loss is not inconsiderable. how should you like to be suddenly debarred from seeing every person and place, which you have ever known and loved, for five years? i do assure you i am occasionally "taken aback" by this reflection; and then for man or ship it is not so easy to right again. remember me most sincerely to the remnant of most excellent fellows whom i have the good luck to know in cambridge--i mean whitley and watkins. tell lowe i am even beneath his contempt. i can eat salt beef and musty biscuits for dinner. see what a fall man may come to! my direction for the next year and a half will be monte video. god bless you, my very dear old herbert. may you always be happy and prosperous is my most cordial wish. yours affectionately, chas. darwin. charles darwin to f. watkins. monte video, river plata, august , . my dear watkins, i do not feel very sure you will think a letter from one so far distant will be worth having; i write therefore on the selfish principle of getting an answer. in the different countries we visit the entire newness and difference from england only serves to make more keen the recollection of its scenes and delights. in consequence the pleasure of thinking of, and hearing from one's former friends, does indeed become great. recollect this, and some long winter's evening sit down and send me a long account of yourself and our friends; both what you have, and what [you] intend doing; otherwise in three or four more years when i return you will be all strangers to me. considering how many months have passed, we have not in the "beagle" made much way round the world. hitherto everything has well repaid the necessary trouble and loss of comfort. we stayed three weeks at the cape de verds; it was no ordinary pleasure rambling over the plains of lava under a tropical sun, but when i first entered on and beheld the luxuriant vegetation in brazil, it was realizing the visions in the 'arabian nights.' the brilliancy of the scenery throws one into a delirium of delight, and a beetle hunter is not likely soon to awaken from it, when whichever way he turns fresh treasures meet his eye. at rio de janeiro three months passed away like so many weeks. i made a most delightful excursion during this time of miles into the country. i stayed at an estate which is the last of the cleared ground, behind is one vast impenetrable forest. it is almost impossible to imagine the quietude of such a life. not a human being within some miles interrupts the solitude. to seat oneself amidst the gloom of such a forest on a decaying trunk, and then think of home, is a pleasure worth taking some trouble for. we are at present in a much less interesting country. one single walk over the undulatory turf plain shows everything which is to be seen. it is not at all unlike cambridgeshire, only that every hedge, tree and hill must be leveled, and arable land turned into pasture. all south america is in such an unsettled state that we have not entered one port without some sort of disturbance. at buenos ayres a shot came whistling over our heads; it is a noise i had never before heard, but i found i had an instinctive knowledge of what it meant. the other day we landed our men here, and took possession, at the request of the inhabitants, of the central fort. we philosophers do not bargain for this sort of work, and i hope there will be no more. we sail in the course of a day or two to survey the coast of patagonia; as it is entirely unknown, i expect a good deal of interest. but already do i perceive the grievous difference between sailing on these seas and the equinoctial ocean. in the "ladies' gulf," as the spaniard's call it, it is so luxurious to sit on deck and enjoy the coolness of the night, and admire the new constellations of the south...i wonder when we shall ever meet again; but be it when it may, few things will give me greater pleasure than to see you again, and talk over the long time we have passed together. if you were to meet me at present i certainly should be looked at like a wild beast, a great grizzly beard and flushing jacket would disfigure an angel. believe me, my dear watkins, with the warmest feelings of friendship. ever yours, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. april , . my dear henslow, we are now running up from the falkland islands to the rio negro (or colorado). the "beagle" will proceed to monte video; but if it can be managed i intend staying at the former place. it is now some months since we have been at a civilised port; nearly all this time has been spent in the most southern part of tierra del fuego. it is a detestable place; gales succeed gales with such short intervals that it is difficult to do anything. we were twenty-three days off cape horn, and could by no means get to the westward. the last and final gale before we gave up the attempt was unusually severe. a sea stove one of the boats, and there was so much water on the decks that every place was afloat; nearly all the paper for drying plants is spoiled, and half of this curious collection. we at last ran into harbour, and in the boats got to the west by the inland channels. as i was one of this party i was very glad of it. with two boats we went about miles, and thus i had an excellent opportunity of geologising and seeing much of the savages. the fuegians are in a more miserable state of barbarism than i had expected ever to have seen a human being. in this inclement country they are absolutely naked, and their temporary houses are like what children make in summer with boughs of trees. i do not think any spectacle can be more interesting than the first sight of man in his primitive wildness. it is an interest which cannot well be imagined until it is experienced. i shall never forget this when entering good success bay--the yell with which a party received us. they were seated on a rocky point, surrounded by the dark forest of beech; as they threw their arms wildly round their heads, and their long hair streaming, they seemed the troubled spirits of another world. the climate in some respects is a curious mixture of severity and mildness; as far as regards the animal kingdom, the former character prevails; i have in consequence not added much to my collections. the geology of this part of tierra del fuego was, as indeed every place is, to me very interesting. the country is non-fossiliferous, and a common-place succession of granitic rocks and slates; attempting to make out the relation of cleavage, strata, etc., etc., was my chief amusement. the mineralogy, however, of some of the rocks will, i think, be curious from their resemblance to those of volcanic origin.... after leaving tierra del fuego we sailed to the falklands. i forgot to mention the fate of the fuegians whom we took back to their country. they had become entirely european in their habits and wishes, so much so that the younger one had forgotten his own language, and their countrymen paid but very little attention to them. we built houses for them and planted gardens, but by the time we return again on our passage round the horn, i think it will be very doubtful how much of their property will be left unstolen. ...when i am sea-sick and miserable, it is one of my highest consolations to picture the future when we again shall be pacing together the roads round cambridge. that day is a weary long way off. we have another cruise to make to tierra del fuego next summer, and then our voyage round the world will really commence. captain fitz-roy has purchased a large schooner of tons. in many respects it will be a great advantage having a consort--perhaps it may somewhat shorten our cruise, which i most cordially hope it may. i trust, however, that the coral reefs and various animals of the pacific may keep up my resolution. remember me most kindly to mrs. henslow and all other friends; i am a true lover of alma mater and all its inhabitants. believe me, my dear henslow, your affectionate and most obliged friend, charles darwin. charles darwin to miss c. darwin. maldonado, rio plata, may , . ...the following business piece is to my father. having a servant of my own would be a really great addition to my comfort. for these two reasons: as at present the captain has appointed one of the men always to be with me, but i do not think it just thus to take a seaman out of the ship; and, secondly, when at sea i am rather badly off for any one to wait on me. the man is willing to be my servant, and all the expenses would be under pounds per annum. i have taught him to shoot and skin birds, so that in my main object he is very useful. i have now left england nearly a year and a half, and i find my expenses are not above pounds per annum; so that, it being hopeless (from time) to write for permission, i have come to the conclusion that you would allow me this expense. but i have not yet resolved to ask the captain, and the chances are even that he would not be willing to have an additional man in the ship. i have mentioned this because for a long time i have been thinking about it. june. i have just received a bundle more letters. i do not know how to thank you all sufficiently. one from catherine, february th, another from susan, march rd, together with notes from caroline and from my father; give my best love to my father. i almost cried for pleasure at receiving it; it was very kind thinking of writing to me. my letters are both few, short, and stupid in return for all yours; but i always ease my conscience by considering the journal as a long letter. if i can manage it, i will, before doubling the horn, send the rest. i am quite delighted to find the hide of the megatherium has given you all some little interest in my employments. these fragments are not, however, by any means the most valuable of the geological relics. i trust and believe that the time spent in this voyage, if thrown away for all other respects, will produce its full worth in natural history; and it appears to me the doing what little we can to increase the general stock of knowledge is as respectable an object of life as one can in any likelihood pursue. it is more the result of such reflections (as i have already said) than much immediate pleasure which now makes me continue the voyage, together with the glorious prospect of the future, when passing the straits of magellan, we have in truth the world before us. think of the andes, the luxuriant forest of guayaquil, the islands of the south sea, and new south wales. how many magnificent and characteristic views, how many and curious tribes of men we shall see! what fine opportunities for geology and for studying the infinite host of living beings! is not this a prospect to keep up the most flagging spirit? if i was to throw it away, i don't think i should ever rest quiet in my grave. i certainly should be a ghost and haunt the british museum. how famously the ministers appear to be going on. i always much enjoy political gossip and what you at home think will, etc., etc., take place. i steadily read up the weekly paper, but it is not sufficient to guide one's opinion; and i find it a very painful state not to be as obstinate as a pig in politics. i have watched how steadily the general feeling, as shown at elections, has been rising against slavery. what a proud thing for england if she is the first european nation which utterly abolishes it! i was told before leaving england that after living in slave countries all my opinions would be altered; the only alteration i am aware of is forming a much higher estimate of the negro character. it is impossible to see a negro and not feel kindly towards him; such cheerful, open, honest expressions and such fine muscular bodies. i never saw any of the diminutive portuguese, with their murderous countenances, without almost wishing for brazil to follow the example of hayti; and, considering the enormous healthy-looking black population, it will be wonderful if, at some future day, it does not take place. there is at rio a man (i know not his title) who has a large salary to prevent (i believe) the landing of slaves; he lives at botofogo, and yet that was the bay where, during my residence, the greater number of smuggled slaves were landed. some of the anti-slavery people ought to question about his office; it was the subject of conversation at rio amongst the lower english... charles darwin to j.m. herbert. maldonado, rio plata, june , . my dear herbert, i have been confined for the last three days to a miserable dark room, in an old spanish house, from the torrents of rain; i am not, therefore, in very good trim for writing; but, defying the blue devils, i will send you a few lines, if it is merely to thank you very sincerely for writing to me. i received your letter, dated december st, a short time since. we are now passing part of the winter in the rio plata, after having had a hard summer's work to the south. tierra del fuego is indeed a miserable place; the ceaseless fury of the gales is quite tremendous. one evening we saw old cape horn, and three weeks afterwards we were only thirty miles to windward of it. it is a grand spectacle to see all nature thus raging; but heaven knows every one in the "beagle" has seen enough in this one summer to last them their natural lives. the first place we landed at was good success bay. it was here banks and solander met such disasters on ascending one of the mountains. the weather was tolerably fine, and i enjoyed some walks in a wild country, like that behind barmouth. the valleys are impenetrable from the entangled woods, but the higher parts, near the limits of perpetual snow, are bare. from some of these hills the scenery, from its savage, solitary character, was most sublime. the only inhabitant of these heights is the guanaco, and with its shrill neighing it often breaks the stillness. the consciousness that no european foot had ever trod much of this ground added to the delight of these rambles. how often and how vividly have many of the hours spent at barmouth come before my mind! i look back to that time with no common pleasure; at this moment i can see you seated on the hill behind the inn, almost as plainly as if you were really there. it is necessary to be separated from all which one has been accustomed to, to know how properly to treasure up such recollections, and at this distance, i may add, how properly to esteem such as yourself, my dear old herbert. i wonder when i shall ever see you again. i hope it may be, as you say, surrounded with heaps of parchment; but then there must be, sooner or later, a dear little lady to take care of you and your house. such a delightful vision makes me quite envious. this is a curious life for a regular shore-going person such as myself; the worst part of it is its extreme length. there is certainly a great deal of high enjoyment, and on the contrary a tolerable share of vexation of spirit. everything, however, shall bend to the pleasure of grubbing up old bones, and captivating new animals. by the way, you rank my natural history labours far too high. i am nothing more than a lions' provider: i do not feel at all sure that they will not growl and finally destroy me. it does one's heart good to hear how things are going on in england. hurrah for the honest whigs! i trust they will soon attack that monstrous stain on our boasted liberty, colonial slavery. i have seen enough of slavery and the dispositions of the negroes, to be thoroughly disgusted with the lies and nonsense one hears on the subject in england. thank god, the cold-hearted tories, who, as j. mackintosh used to say, have no enthusiasm, except against enthusiasm, have for the present run their race. i am sorry, by your letter, to hear you have not been well, and that you partly attribute it to want of exercise. i wish you were here amongst the green plains; we would take walks which would rival the dolgelly ones, and you should tell stories, which i would believe, even to a cubic fathom of pudding. instead i must take my solitary ramble, think of cambridge days, and pick up snakes, beetles and toads. excuse this short letter (you know i never studied 'the complete letter-writer'), and believe me, my dear herbert, your affectionate friend, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. east falkland island, march, . ...i am quite charmed with geology, but like the wise animal between two bundles of hay, i do not know which to like the best; the old crystalline group of rocks, or the softer and fossiliferous beds. when puzzling about stratifications, etc., i feel inclined to cry "a fig for your big oysters, and your bigger megatheriums." but then when digging out some fine bones, i wonder how any man can tire his arms with hammering granite. by the way i have not one clear idea about cleavage, stratification, lines of upheaval. i have no books which tell me much, and what they do i cannot apply to what i see. in consequence i draw my own conclusions, and most gloriously ridiculous ones they are, i sometimes fancy...can you throw any light into my mind by telling me what relation cleavage and planes of deposition bear to each other? and now for my second section, zoology. i have chiefly been employed in preparing myself for the south sea by examining the polypi of the smaller corallines in these latitudes. many in themselves are very curious, and i think are quite undescribed; there was one appalling one, allied to a flustra, which i dare say i mentioned having found to the northward, where the cells have a movable organ (like a vulture's head, with a dilatable beak), fixed on the edge. but what is of more general interest is the unquestionable (as it appears to me) existence of another species of ostrich, besides the struthio rhea. all the gauchos and indians state it is the case, and i place the greatest faith in their observations. i have the head, neck, piece of skin, feathers, and legs of one. the differences are chiefly in the colour of the feathers and scales on legs, being feathered below the knees, nidification, and geographical distribution. so much for what i have lately done; the prospect before me is full of sunshine, fine weather, glorious scenery, the geology of the andes, plains abounding with organic remains (which perhaps i may have the good luck to catch in the very act of moving), and lastly, an ocean, its shores abounding with life, so that, if nothing unforeseen happens, i will stick to the voyage, although for what i can see this may last till we return a fine set of white-headed old gentlemen. i have to thank you most cordially for sending me the books. i am now reading the oxford 'report' (the second meeting of the british association was held at oxford in , the following year it was at cambridge.); the whole account of your proceedings is most glorious; you remaining in england cannot well imagine how excessively interesting i find the reports. i am sure from my own thrilling sensations when reading them, that they cannot fail to have an excellent effect upon all those residing in distant colonies, and who have little opportunity of seeing the periodicals. my hammer has flown with redoubled force on the devoted blocks; as i thought over the eloquence of the cambridge president, i hit harder and harder blows. i hope to give my arms strength for the cordilleras. you will send me through capt. beaufort a copy of the cambridge 'report.' i have forgotten to mention that for some time past, and for the future, i will put a pencil cross on the pill-boxes containing insects, as these alone will require being kept particularly dry; it may perhaps save you some trouble. when this letter will go i do not know, as this little seat of discord has lately been embroiled by a dreadful scene of murder, and at present there are more prisoners than inhabitants. if a merchant vessel is chartered to take them to rio, i will send some specimens (especially my few plants and seeds). remember me to all my cambridge friends. i love and treasure up every recollection of dear old cambridge. i am much obliged to you for putting my name down to poor ramsay's monument; i never think of him without the warmest admiration. farewell, my dear henslow. believe me your most obliged and affectionate friend, charles darwin. charles darwin to miss c. darwin. east falkland island, april , . my dear catherine, when this letter will reach you i know not, but probably some man-of-war will call here before, in the common course of events, i should have another opportunity of writing.... after visiting some of the southern islands, we beat up through the magnificent scenery of the beagle channel to jemmy button's country. (jemmy button, york minster, and fuegia basket, were natives of tierra del fuego, brought to england by captain fitz-roy in his former voyage, and restored to their country by him in .) we could hardly recognise poor jemmy. instead of the clean, well-dressed stout lad we left him, we found him a naked, thin, squalid savage. york and fuegia had moved to their own country some months ago, the former having stolen all jemmy's clothes. now he had nothing except a bit of blanket round his waist. poor jemmy was very glad to see us, and, with his usual good feeling, brought several presents (otter-skins, which are most valuable to themselves) for his old friends. the captain offered to take him to england, but this, to our surprise, he at once refused. in the evening his young wife came alongside and showed us the reason. he was quite contented. last year, in the height of his indignation, he said "his country people no sabe nothing--damned fools"--now they were very good people, with too much to eat, and all the luxuries of life. jemmy and his wife paddled away in their canoe loaded with presents, and very happy. the most curious thing is, that jemmy, instead of recovering his own language, has taught all his friends a little english. "j. button's canoe" and "jemmy's wife come," "give me knife," etc., was said by several of them. we then bore away for this island--this little miserable seat of discord. we found that the gauchos, under pretence of a revolution, had murdered and plundered all the englishmen whom they could catch, and some of their own countrymen. all the economy at home makes the foreign movements of england most contemptible. how different from old spain. here we, dog-in-the-manger fashion, seize an island, and leave to protect it a union jack; the possessor has, of course, been murdered; we now send a lieutenant with four sailors, without authority or instructions. a man-of-war, however, ventured to leave a party of marines, and by their assistance, and the treachery of some of the party, the murderers have all been taken, there being now as many prisoners as inhabitants. this island must some day become a very important halting-place in the most turbulent sea in the world. it is mid-way between australia and the south sea to england; between chili, peru, etc., and the rio plata and the rio de janeiro. there are fine harbours, plenty of fresh water, and good beef. it would doubtless produce the coarser vegetables. in other respects it is a wretched place. a little time since, i rode across the island, and returned in four days. my excursion would have been longer, but during the whole time it blew a gale of wind, with hail and snow. there is no firewood bigger than heath, and the whole country is, more or less an elastic peat-bog. sleeping out at night was too miserable work to endure it for all the rocks in south america. we shall leave this scene of iniquity in two or three days, and go to the rio de la sta. cruz. one of the objects is to look at the ship's bottom. we struck heavily on an unknown rock off port desire, and some of her copper is torn off. after this is repaired the captain has a glorious scheme; it is to go to the very head of this river, that is probably to the andes. it is quite unknown; the indians tell us it is two or three hundred yards broad, and horses can nowhere ford it. i cannot imagine anything more interesting. our plans then are to go to fort famine, and there we meet the "adventure", who is employed in making the chart of the falklands. this will be in the middle of winter, so i shall see tierra del fuego in her white drapery. we leave the straits to enter the pacific by the barbara channel, one very little known, and which passes close to the foot of mount sarmiento (the highest mountain in the south, excepting mt.!! darwin!!). we then shall scud away for concepcion in chili. i believe the ship must once again steer southward, but if any one catches me there again, i will give him leave to hang me up as a scarecrow for all future naturalists. i long to be at work in the cordilleras, the geology of this side, which i understand pretty well is so intimately connected with periods of violence in that great chain of mountains. the future is, indeed, to me a brilliant prospect. you say its very brilliancy frightens you; but really i am very careful; i may mention as a proof, in all my rambles i have never had any one accident or scrape...continue in your good custom of writing plenty of gossip; i much like hearing all about all things. remember me most kindly to uncle jos, and to all the wedgwoods. tell charlotte (their married names sound downright unnatural) i should like to have written to her, to have told her how well everything is going on; but it would only have been a transcript of this letter, and i have a host of animals at this minute surrounding me which all require embalming and numbering. i have not forgotten the comfort i received that day at maer, when my mind was like a swinging pendulum. give my best love to my father. i hope he will forgive all my extravagance, but not as a christian, for then i suppose he would send me no more money. good-bye, dear, to you, and all your goodly sisterhood. your affectionate brother, chas. darwin. my love to nancy (his old nurse.); tell her, if she was now to see me with my great beard, she would think i was some worthy solomon, come to sell the trinkets. charles darwin to c. whitley. valparaiso, july , . my dear whitley, i have long intended writing, just to put you in mind that there is a certain hunter of beetles, and pounder of rocks still in existence. why i have not done so before i know not, but it will serve me right if you have quite forgotten me. it is a very long time since i have heard any cambridge news; i neither know where you are living or what you are doing. i saw your name down as one of the indefatigable guardians of the eighteen hundred philosophers. i was delighted to see this, for when we last left cambridge you were at sad variance with poor science; you seemed to think her a public prostitute working for popularity. if your opinions are the same as formerly, you would agree most admirably with captain fitz-roy,--the object of his most devout abhorrence is one of the d--d scientific whigs. as captains of men-of-war are the greatest men going, far greater than kings or schoolmasters, i am obliged to tell him everything in my own favour. i have often said i once had a very good friend, an out-and-out tory, and we managed to get on very well together. but he is very much inclined to doubt if ever i really was so much honoured; at present we hear scarcely anything about politics; this saves a great deal of trouble, for we all stick to our former opinions rather more obstinately than before, and can give rather fewer reasons for doing so. i do hope you will write to me: ('h.m.s. "beagle", s. american station' will find me). i should much like to hear in what state you are both in body and mind. ?quien sabe? as the people say here (and god knows they well may, for they do know little enough), if you are not a married man, and may be nursing, as miss austen says, little olive branches, little pledges of mutual affection. eheu! eheu! this puts me in mind of former visions of glimpses into futurity, where i fancied i saw retirement, green cottages, and white petticoats. what will become of me hereafter i know not; i feel like a ruined man, who does not see or care how to extricate himself. that this voyage must come to a conclusion my reason tells me, but otherwise i see no end to it. it is impossible not bitterly to regret the friends and other sources of pleasure one leaves behind in england; in place of it there is much solid enjoyment, some present, but more in anticipation, when the ideas gained during the voyage can be compared to fresh ones. i find in geology a never-failing interest, as it has been remarked, it creates the same grand ideas respecting this world which astronomy does for the universe. we have seen much fine scenery; that of the tropics in its glory and luxuriance exceeds even the language of humboldt to describe. a persian writer could alone do justice to it, and if he succeeded he would in england be called the 'grandfather of all liars.' but i have seen nothing which more completely astonished me than the first sight of a savage. it was a naked fuegian, his long hair blowing about, his face besmeared with paint. there is in their countenances an expression which i believe, to those who have not seen it, must be inconceivably wild. standing on a rock he uttered tones and made gesticulations, than which the cries of domestic animals are far more intelligible. when i return to england, you must take me in hand with respect to the fine arts. i yet recollect there was a man called raffaelle sanctus. how delightful it will be once again to see, in the fitzwilliam, titian's venus. how much more than delightful to go to some good concert or fine opera. these recollections will not do. i shall not be able to-morrow to pick out the entrails of some small animal with half my usual gusto. pray tell me some news about cameron, watkins, marindin, the two thompsons of trinity, lowe, heaviside, matthew. herbert i have heard from. how is henslow getting on? and all other good friends of dear cambridge? often and often do i think over those past hours, so many of which have been passed in your company. such can never return, but their recollection can never die away. god bless you, my dear whitley, believe me, your most sincere friend, chas. darwin. charles darwin to miss c. darwin. valparaiso, november , . my dear catherine, my last letter was rather a gloomy one, for i was not very well when i wrote it. now everything is as bright as sunshine. i am quite well again after being a second time in bed for a fortnight. captain fitz-roy very generously has delayed the ship ten days on my account, and without at the time telling me for what reason. we have had some strange proceedings on board the "beagle", but which have ended most capitally for all hands. captain fitz-roy has for the last two months been working extremely hard, and at the same time constantly annoyed by interruptions from officers of other ships; the selling the schooner and its consequences were very vexatious; the cold manner the admiralty (solely i believe because he is a tory) have treated him, and a thousand other, etc. etc.'s, has made him very thin and unwell. this was accompanied by a morbid depression of spirits, and a loss of all decision and resolution... all that bynoe [the surgeon] could say, that it was merely the effect of bodily health and exhaustion after such application, would not do; he invalided, and wickham was appointed to the command. by the instructions wickham could only finish the survey of the southern part, and would then have been obliged to return direct to england. the grief on board the "beagle" about the captain's decision was universal and deeply felt; one great source of his annoyment was the feeling it impossible to fulfil the whole instructions; from his state of mind it never occurred to him that the very instructions ordered him to do as much of the west coast as he has time for, and then proceed across the pacific. wickham (very disinterestedly giving up his own promotion) urged this most strongly, stated that when he took the command nothing should induce him to go to tierra del fuego again; and then asked the captain what would be gained by his resignation? why not do the more useful part, and return as commanded by the pacific. the captain at last, to every one's joy, consented, and the resignation was withdrawn. hurrah! hurrah! it is fixed the "beagle" shall not go one mile south of cape tres montes (about miles south of chiloe), and from that point to valparaiso will be finished in about five months. we shall examine the chonos archipelago, entirely unknown, and the curious inland sea behind chiloe. for me it is glorious. cape tres montes is the most southern point where there is much geological interest, as there the modern beds end. the captain then talks of crossing the pacific; but i think we shall persuade him to finish the coast of peru, where the climate is delightful, the country hideously sterile, but abounding with the highest interest to a geologist. for the first time since leaving england i now see a clear and not so distant prospect of returning to you all: crossing the pacific, and from sydney home, will not take much time. as soon as the captain invalided i at once determined to leave the "beagle", but it was quite absurd what a revolution in five minutes was effected in all my feelings. i have long been grieved and most sorry at the interminable length of the voyage (although i never would have quitted it); but the minute it was all over, i could not make up my mind to return. i could not give up all the geological castles in the air which i had been building up for the last two years. one whole night i tried to think over the pleasure of seeing shrewsbury again, but the barren plains of peru gained the day. i made the following scheme (i know you will abuse me, and perhaps if i had put it in execution, my father would have sent a mandamus after me); it was to examine the cordilleras of chili during this summer, and in winter go from port to port on the coast of peru to lima, returning this time next year to valparaiso, cross the cordilleras to buenos ayres, and take ship to england. would not this have been a fine excursion, and in sixteen months i should have been with you all? to have endured tierra del fuego and not seen the pacific would have been miserable... i go on board to-morrow; i have been for the last six weeks in corfield's house. you cannot imagine what a kind friend i have found him. he is universally liked, and respected by the natives and foreigners. several chileno signoritas are very obligingly anxious to become the signoras of this house. tell my father i have kept my promise of being extravagant in chili. i have drawn a bill of pounds (had it not better be notified to messrs. robarts & co.); pounds goes to the captain for the ensuing year, and pounds i take to sea for the small ports; so that bona fide i have not spent pounds during these last four months. i hope not to draw another bill for six months. all the foregoing particulars were only settled yesterday. it has done me more good than a pint of medicine, and i have not been so happy for the last year. if it had not been for my illness, these four months in chili would have been very pleasant. i have had ill luck, however, in only one little earthquake having happened. i was lying in bed when there was a party at dinner in the house; on a sudden i heard such a hubbub in the dining-room; without a word being spoken, it was devil take the hindmost who should get out first; at the same moment i felt my bed slightly vibrate in a lateral direction. the party were old stagers, and heard the noise which always precedes a shock; and no old stager looks at an earthquake with philosophical eyes... good-bye to you all; you will not have another letter for some time. my dear catherine, yours affectionately, chas. darwin. my best love to my father, and all of you. love to nancy. charles darwin to miss s. darwin. valparaiso, april , . my dear susan, i received, a few days since, your letter of november; the three letters which i before mentioned are yet missing, but i do not doubt they will come to life. i returned a week ago from my excursion across the andes to mendoza. since leaving england i have never made so successful a journey; it has, however, been very expensive. i am sure my father would not regret it, if he could know how deeply i have enjoyed it: it was something more than enjoyment; i cannot express the delight which i felt at such a famous winding-up of all my geology in south america. i literally could hardly sleep at nights for thinking over my day's work. the scenery was so new, and so majestic; everything at an elevation of , feet bears so different an aspect from that in a lower country. i have seen many views more beautiful, but none with so strongly marked a character. to a geologist, also, there are such manifest proofs of excessive violence; the strata of the highest pinnacles are tossed about like the crust of a broken pie. i crossed by the portillo pass, which at this time of the year is apt to be dangerous, so could not afford to delay there. after staying a day in the stupid town of mendoza, i began my return by uspallate, which i did very leisurely. my whole trip only took up twenty-two days. i travelled with, for me, uncommon comfort, as i carried a bed! my party consisted of two peons and ten mules, two of which were with baggage, or rather food, in case of being snowed up. everything, however, favoured me; not even a speck of this year's snow had fallen on the road. i do not suppose any of you can be much interested in geological details, but i will just mention my principal results:--besides understanding to a certain extent the description and manner of the force which has elevated this great line of mountains, i can clearly demonstrate that one part of the double line is of an age long posterior to the other. in the more ancient line, which is the true chain of the andes, i can describe the sort and order of the rocks which compose it. these are chiefly remarkable by containing a bed of gypsum nearly feet thick--a quantity of this substance i should think unparalleled in the world. what is of much greater consequence, i have procured fossil shells (from an elevation of , feet). i think an examination of these will give an approximate age to these mountains, as compared to the strata of europe. in the other line of the cordilleras there is a strong presumption (in my own mind, conviction) that the enormous mass of mountains, the peaks of which rise to , and , feet, are so very modern as to be contemporaneous with the plains of patagonia (or about with the upper strata of the isle of wight). if this result shall be considered as proved (the importance of these results has been fully recognised by geologists.), it is a very important fact in the theory of the formation of the world; because, if such wonderful changes have taken place so recently in the crust of the globe, there can be no reason for supposing former epochs of excessive violence. these modern strata are very remarkable by being threaded with metallic veins of silver, gold, copper, etc.; hitherto these have been considered as appertaining to older formations. in these same beds, and close to a goldmine, i found a clump of petrified trees, standing up right, with layers of fine sandstone deposited round them, bearing the impression of their bark. these trees are covered by other sandstones and streams of lava to the thickness of several thousand feet. these rocks have been deposited beneath water; yet it is clear the spot where the trees grew must once have been above the level of the sea, so that it is certain the land must have been depressed by at least as many thousand feet as the superincumbent subaqueous deposits are thick. but i am afraid you will tell me i am prosy with my geological descriptions and theories... your account of erasmus' visit to cambridge has made me long to be back there. i cannot fancy anything more delightful than his sunday round of king's, trinity, and those talking giants, whewell and sedgwick; i hope your musical tastes continue in due force. i shall be ravenous for the pianoforte... i have not quite determined whether i will sleep at the 'lion' the first night when i arrive per 'wonder,' or disturb you all in the dead of night; everything short of that is absolutely planned. everything about shrewsbury is growing in my mind bigger and more beautiful; i am certain the acacia and copper beech are two superb trees; i shall know every bush, and i will trouble you young ladies, when each of you cut down your tree, to spare a few. as for the view behind the house, i have seen nothing like it. it is the same with north wales; snowdon, to my mind, looks much higher and much more beautiful than any peak in the cordilleras. so you will say, with my benighted faculties, it is time to return, and so it is, and i long to be with you. whatever the trees are, i know what i shall find all you. i am writing nonsense, so farewell. my most affectionate love to all, and i pray forgiveness from my father. yours most affectionately, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. lima, july, . my dear fox, i have lately received two of your letters, one dated june and the other november, (they reached me, however, in an inverted order). i was very glad to receive a history of this most important year in your life. previously i had only heard the plain fact that you were married. you are a true christian and return good for evil, to send two such letters to so bad a correspondent as i have been. god bless you for writing so kindly and affectionately; if it is a pleasure to have friends in england, it is doubly so to think and know that one is not forgotten because absent. this voyage is terribly long. i do so earnestly desire to return, yet i dare hardly look forward to the future, for i do not know what will become of me. your situation is above envy: i do not venture even to frame such happy visions. to a person fit to take the office, the life of a clergyman is a type of all that is respectable and happy. you tempt me by talking of your fireside, whereas it is a sort of scene i never ought to think about. i saw the other day a vessel sail for england; it was quite dangerous to know how easily i might turn deserter. as for an english lady, i have almost forgotten what she is--something very angelic and good. as for the women in these countries, they wear caps and petticoats, and a very few have pretty faces, and then all is said. but if we are not wrecked on some unlucky reef, i will sit by that same fireside in vale cottage and tell some of the wonderful stories, which you seem to anticipate and, i presume, are not very ready to believe. gracias a dios, the prospect of such times is rather shorter than formerly. from this most wretched 'city of the kings' we sail in a fortnight, from thence to guayaquil, galapagos, marquesas, society islands, etc., etc. i look forward to the galapagos with more interest than any other part of the voyage. they abound with active volcanoes, and, i should hope, contain tertiary strata. i am glad to hear you have some thoughts of beginning geology. i hope you will; there is so much larger a field for thought than in the other branches of natural history. i am become a zealous disciple of mr. lyell's views, as known in his admirable book. geologising in south america, i am tempted to carry parts to a greater extent even than he does. geology is a capital science to begin, as it requires nothing but a little reading, thinking, and hammering. i have a considerable body of notes together; but it is a constant subject of perplexity to me, whether they are of sufficient value for all the time i have spent about them, or whether animals would not have been of more certain value. i shall indeed be glad once again to see you and tell you how grateful i feel for your steady friendship. god bless you, my very dear fox. believe me, yours affectionately, chas. darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. sydney, january, . my dear henslow, this is the last opportunity of communicating with you before that joyful day when i shall reach cambridge. i have very little to say: but i must write if it is only to express my joy that the last year is concluded, and that the present one, in which the "beagle" will return, is gliding onwards. we have all been disappointed here in not finding even a single letter; we are, indeed, rather before our expected time, otherwise, i dare say, i should have seen your handwriting. i must feed upon the future, and it is beyond bounds delightful to feel the certainty that within eight months i shall be residing once again most quietly in cambridge. certainly, i never was intended for a traveller; my thoughts are always rambling over past or future scenes; i cannot enjoy the present happiness for anticipating the future, which is about as foolish as the dog who dropped the real bone for its shadow.... in our passage across the pacific we only touched at tahiti and new zealand; at neither of these places or at sea had i much opportunity of working. tahiti is a most charming spot. everything which former navigators have written is true. 'a new cytheraea has risen from the ocean.' delicious scenery, climate, manners of the people are all in harmony. it is, moreover, admirable to behold what the missionaries both here and at new zealand have effected. i firmly believe they are good men working for the sake of a good cause. i much suspect that those who have abused or sneered at the missionaries have generally been such as were not very anxious to find the natives moral and intelligent beings. during the remainder of our voyage we shall only visit places generally acknowledged as civilised, and nearly all under the british flag. these will be a poor field for natural history, and without it i have lately discovered that the pleasure of seeing new places is as nothing. i must return to my old resource and think of the future, but that i may not become more prosy, i will say farewell till the day arrives, when i shall see my master in natural history, and can tell him how grateful i feel for his kindness and friendship. believe me, dear henslow, ever yours, most faithfully, chas. darwin. charles darwin to miss s. darwin. bahia, brazil, august [ ]. my dear susan, i will just write a few lines to explain the cause of this letter being dated on the coast of south america. some singular disagreements in the longitudes made captain fitz-roy anxious to complete the circle in the southern hemisphere, and then retrace our steps by our first line to england. this zigzag manner of proceeding is very grievous; it has put the finishing stroke to my feelings. i loathe, i abhor the sea and all ships which sail on it. but i yet believe we shall reach england in the latter half of october. at ascension i received catherine's letter of october, and yours of november; the letter at the cape was of a later date, but letters of all sorts are inestimable treasures, and i thank you both for them. the desert, volcanic rocks, and wild sea of ascension, as soon as i knew there was news from home, suddenly wore a pleasing aspect, and i set to work with a good-will at my old work of geology. you would be surprised to know how entirely the pleasure in arriving at a new place depends on letters. we only stayed four days at ascension, and then made a very good passage to bahia. i little thought to have put my foot on south american coast again. it has been almost painful to find how much good enthusiasm has been evaporated during the last four years. i can now walk soberly through a brazilian forest; not but what it is exquisitely beautiful, but now, instead of seeking for splendid contrasts, i compare the stately mango trees with the horse-chestnuts of england. although this zigzag has lost us at least a fortnight, in some respects i am glad of it. i think i shall be able to carry away one vivid picture of inter-tropical scenery. we go from hence to the cape de verds; that is, if the winds or the equatorial calms will allow us. i have some faint hopes that a steady foul wind might induce the captain to proceed direct to the azores. for which most untoward event i heartily pray. both your letters were full of good news; especially the expressions which you tell me professor sedgwick used about my collections. i confess they are deeply gratifying--i trust one part at least will turn out true, and that i shall act as i now think--as a man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life. professor sedgwick mentioning my name at all gives me hopes that he will assist me with his advice, of which, in my geological questions, i stand much in need. it is useless to tell you from the shameful state of this scribble that i am writing against time, having been out all morning, and now there are some strangers on board to whom i must go down and talk civility. moreover, as this letter goes by a foreign ship, it is doubtful whether it will ever arrive. farewell, my very dear susan and all of you. good-bye. c. darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. st. helena, july , . my dear henslow, i am going to ask you to do me a favour. i am very anxious to belong to the geological society. i do not know, but i suppose it is necessary to be proposed some time before being ballotted for; if such is the case, would you be good enough to take the proper preparatory steps? professor sedgwick very kindly offered to propose me before leaving england, if he should happen to be in london. i dare say he would yet do so. i have very little to write about. we have neither seen, done, or heard of anything particular for a long time past; and indeed if at present the wonders of another planet could be displayed before us, i believe we should unanimously exclaim, what a consummate plague. no schoolboys ever sung the half sentimental and half jovial strain of 'dulce domum' with more fervour, than we all feel inclined to do. but the whole subject of 'dulce domum,' and the delight of seeing one's friends, is most dangerous, it must infallibly make one very prosy or very boisterous. oh, the degree to which i long to be once again living quietly with not one single novel object near me! no one can imagine it till he has been whirled round the world during five long years in a ten-gun-brig. i am at present living in a small house (amongst the clouds) in the centre of the island, and within stone's throw of napoleon's tomb. it is blowing a gale of wind with heavy rain and wretchedly cold; if napoleon's ghost haunts his dreary place of confinement, this would be a most excellent night for such wandering spirits. if the weather chooses to permit me, i hope to see a little of the geology (so often partially described) of the island. i suspect that differently from most volcanic islands its structure is rather complicated. it seems strange that this little centre of a distinct creation should, as is asserted, bear marks of recent elevation. the "beagle" proceeds from this place to ascension, then to the cape de verds (what miserable places!) to the azores to plymouth, and then to home. that most glorious of all days in my life will not, however, arrive till the middle of october. some time in that month you will see me at cambridge, where i must directly come to report myself to you, as my first lord of the admiralty. at the cape of good hope we all on board suffered a bitter disappointment in missing nine months' letters, which are chasing us from one side of the globe to the other. i dare say amongst them there was a letter from you; it is long since i have seen your handwriting, but i shall soon see you yourself, which is far better. as i am your pupil, you are bound to undertake the task of criticising and scolding me for all the things ill done and not done at all, which i fear i shall need much; but i hope for the best, and i am sure i have a good if not too easy taskmaster. at the cape captain fitz-roy and myself enjoyed a memorable piece of good fortune in meeting sir j. herschel. we dined at his house and saw him a few times besides. he was exceedingly good natured, but his manners at first appeared to me rather awful. he is living in a very comfortable country house, surrounded by fir and oak trees, which alone in so open a country, give a most charming air of seclusion and comfort. he appears to find time for everything; he showed us a pretty garden full of cape bulbs of his own collecting, and i afterwards understood that everything was the work of his own hands...i am very stupid, and i have nothing more to say; the wind is whistling so mournfully over the bleak hills, that i shall go to bed and dream of england. goodnight, my dear henslow, yours most truly obliged and affectionately, chas. darwin. charles darwin to j.s. henslow. shrewsbury, thursday, october , [ ]. my dear henslow, i am sure you will congratulate me on the delight of once again being home. the "beagle" arrived at falmouth on sunday evening, and i reached shrewsbury yesterday morning. i am exceedingly anxious to see you, and as it will be necessary in four or five days to return to london to get my goods and chattels out of the "beagle", it appears to me my best plan to pass through cambridge. i want your advice on many points; indeed i am in the clouds, and neither know what to do or where to go. my chief puzzle is about the geological specimens--who will have the charity to help me in describing their mineralogical nature? will you be kind enough to write to me one line by return of post, saying whether you are now at cambridge? i am doubtful till i hear from captain fitz-roy whether i shall not be obliged to start before the answer can arrive, but pray try the chance. my dear henslow, i do long to see you; you have been the kindest friend to me that ever man possessed. i can write no more, for i am giddy with joy and confusion. farewell for the present, yours most truly obliged, charles darwin. charles darwin to r. fitz-roy. shrewsbury, thursday morning, october , [ ]. my dear fitz-roy, i arrived here yesterday morning at breakfast time, and, thank god, found all my dear good sisters and father quite well. my father appears more cheerful and very little older than when i left. my sisters assure me i do not look the least different, and i am able to return the compliment. indeed, all england appears changed excepting the good old town of shrewsbury and its inhabitants, which, for all i can see to the contrary, may go on as they now are to doomsday. i wish with all my heart i was writing to you amongst your friends instead of at that horrid plymouth. but the day will soon come, and you will be as happy as i now am. i do assure you i am a very great man at home; the five years' voyage has certainly raised me a hundred per cent. i fear such greatness must experience a fall. i am thoroughly ashamed of myself in what a dead-and-half-alive state i spent the few last days on board; my only excuse is that certainly i was not quite well. the first day in the mail tired me, but as i drew nearer to shrewsbury everything looked more beautiful and cheerful. in passing gloucestershire and worcestershire i wished much for you to admire the fields, woods, and orchards. the stupid people on the coach did not seem to think the fields one bit greener than usual; but i am sure we should have thoroughly agreed that the wide world does not contain so happy a prospect as the rich cultivated land of england. i hope you will not forget to send me a note telling me how you go on. i do indeed hope all your vexations and trouble with respect to our voyage, which we now know has an end, have come to a close. if you do not receive much satisfaction for all the mental and bodily energy you have expended in his majesty's service, you will be most hardly treated. i put my radical sisters into an uproar at some of the prudent (if they were not honest whigs, i would say shabby) proceedings of our government. by the way, i must tell you for the honour and glory of the family that my father has a large engraving of king george iv. put up in his sitting-room. but i am no renegade, and by the time we meet my politics will be as firmly fixed and as wisely founded as ever they were. i thought when i began this letter i would convince you what a steady and sober frame of mind i was in. but i find i am writing most precious nonsense. two or three of our labourers yesterday immediately set to work and got most excessively drunk in honour of the arrival of master charles. who then shall gainsay if master charles himself chooses to make himself a fool. good-bye. god bless you! i hope you are as happy, but much wiser, than your most sincere but unworthy philosopher, chas. darwin. chapter .vii. -- london and cambridge. - . [the period illustrated by the following letters includes the years between my father's return from the voyage of the "beagle" and his settling at down. it is marked by the gradual appearance of that weakness of health which ultimately forced him to leave london and take up his abode for the rest of his life in a quiet country house.] in june, , he writes to lyell: "my father scarcely seems to expect that i shall become strong for some years; it has been a bitter mortification for me to digest the conclusion that the 'race is for the strong,' and that i shall probably do little more but be content to admire the strides others make in science." there is no evidence of any intention of entering a profession after his return from the voyage, and early in he wrote to fitz-roy: "i have nothing to wish for, excepting stronger health to go on with the subjects to which i have joyfully determined to devote my life." these two conditions--permanent ill-health and a passionate love of scientific work for its own sake--determined thus early in his career, the character of his whole future life. they impelled him to lead a retired life of constant labour, carried on to the utmost limits of his physical power, a life which signally falsified his melancholy prophecy. the end of the last chapter saw my father safely arrived at shrewsbury on october , , "after an absence of five years and two days." he wrote to fox: "you cannot imagine how gloriously delightful my first visit was at home; it was worth the banishment." but it was a pleasure that he could not long enjoy, for in the last days of october he was at greenwich unpacking specimens from the "beagle". as to the destination of the collections he writes, somewhat despondingly, to henslow:-- "i have not made much progress with the great men. i find, as you told me, that they are all overwhelmed with their own business. mr. lyell has entered, in the most good-natured manner, and almost without being asked, into all my plans. he tells me, however, the same story, that i must do all myself. mr. owen seems anxious to dissect some of the animals in spirits, and, besides these two, i have scarcely met any one who seems to wish to possess any of my specimens. i must except dr. grant, who is willing to examine some of the corallines. i see it is quite unreasonable to hope for a minute that any man will undertake the examination of a whole order. it is clear the collectors so much outnumber the real naturalists that the latter have no time to spare. "i do not even find that the collections care for receiving the unnamed specimens. the zoological museum (the museum of the zoological society, then at bruton street. the collection was some years later broken up and dispersed.) is nearly full, and upwards of a thousand specimens remain unmounted. i dare say the british museum would receive them, but i cannot feel, from all i hear, any great respect even for the present state of that establishment. your plan will be not only the best, but the only one, namely, to come down to cambridge, arrange and group together the different families, and then wait till people, who are already working in different branches, may want specimens. but it appears to me [that] to do this it will be almost necessary to reside in london. as far as i can yet see my best plan will be to spend several months in cambridge, and then when, by your assistance, i know on what ground i stand, to emigrate to london, where i can complete my geology and try to push on the zoology. i assure you i grieve to find how many things make me see the necessity of living for some time in this dirty, odious london. for even in geology i suspect much assistance and communication will be necessary in this quarter, for instance, in fossil bones, of which none excepting the fragments of megatherium have been looked at, and i clearly see that without my presence they never would be.... "i only wish i had known the botanists cared so much for specimens (a passage in a subsequent letter shows that his plants also gave him some anxiety. "i met mr. brown a few days after you had called on him; he asked me in rather an ominous manner what i meant to do with my plants. in the course of conversation mr. broderip, who was present, remarked to him, 'you forget how long it is since captain king's expedition.' he answered, 'indeed, i have something in the shape of captain king's undescribed plants to make me recollect it.' could a better reason be given, if i had been asked, by me, for not giving the plants to the british museum?") and the zoologists so little; the proportional number of specimens in the two branches should have had a very different appearance. i am out of patience with the zoologists, not because they are overworked, but for their mean, quarrelsome spirit. i went the other evening to the zoological society, where the speakers were snarling at each other in a manner anything but like that of gentlemen. thank heavens! as long as i remain in cambridge there will not be any danger of falling into any such contemptible quarrels, whilst in london i do not see how it is to be avoided. of the naturalists, f. hope is out of london; westwood i have not seen, so about my insects i know nothing. i have seen mr. yarrell twice, but he is so evidently oppressed with business that it is too selfish to plague him with my concerns. he has asked me to dine with the linnean on tuesday, and on wednesday i dine with the geological, so that i shall see all the great men. mr. bell, i hear, is so much occupied that there is no chance of his wishing for specimens of reptiles. i have forgotten to mention mr. lonsdale (william lonsdale, - , was originally in the army, and served at the battles of salamanca and waterloo. after the war he left the service and gave himself up to science. he acted as assistant secretary to the geological society from - , when he resigned, owing to ill health.), who gave me a most cordial reception, and with whom i had much most interesting conversation. if i was not much more inclined for geology than the other branches of natural history, i am sure mr. lyell's and lonsdale's kindness ought to fix me. you cannot conceive anything more thoroughly good-natured than the heart-and-soul manner in which he put himself in my place and thought what would be best to do. at first he was all for london versus cambridge, but at last i made him confess that, for some time at least, the latter would be for me much the best. there is not another soul whom i could ask, excepting yourself, to wade through and criticise some of those papers which i have left with you. mr. lyell owned that, second to london, there was no place in england so good for a naturalist as cambridge. upon my word i am ashamed of writing so many foolish details, no young lady ever described her first ball with more particularity." a few days later he writes more cheerfully: "i became acquainted with mr. bell (t. bell, f.r.s., formerly prof. of zoology in king's college, london, and some time secretary to the royal society. he afterwards described the reptiles for the zoology of the voyage of the "beagle".) who to my surprise expressed a good deal of interest about my crustacea and reptiles, and seems willing to work at them. i also heard that mr. broderip would be glad to look over the south american shells, so that things flourish well with me." about his plants he writes with characteristic openness as to his own ignorance: "you have made me known amongst the botanists, but i felt very foolish when mr. don remarked on the beautiful appearance of some plant with an astounding long name, and asked me about its habitation. some one else seemed quite surprised that i knew nothing about a carex from i do not know where. i was at last forced to plead most entire innocence, and that i knew no more about the plants which i had collected than the man in the moon." as to part of his geological collection he was soon able to write: "i [have] disposed of the most important part [of] my collections, by giving all the fossil bones to the college of surgeons, casts of them will be distributed, and descriptions published. they are very curious and valuable; one head belonged to some gnawing animal, but of the size of a hippopotamus! another to an ant-eater of the size of a horse!" it is worth noting that at this time the only extinct mammalia from south america, which had been described, were mastodon (three species) and megatherium. the remains of the other extinct edentata from sir woodbine parish's collection had not been described. my father's specimens included (besides the above-mentioned toxodon and scelidotherium) the remains of mylodon, glossotherium, another gigantic animal allied to the ant-eater, and macrauchenia. his discovery of these remains is a matter of interest in itself, but it has a special importance as a point in his own life, since it was the vivid impression produced by excavating them with his own hands (i have often heard him speak of the despair with which he had to break off the projecting extremity of a huge, partly excavated bone, when the boat waiting for him would wait no longer.) that formed one of the chief starting-points of his speculation on the origin of species. this is shown in the following extract from his pocket book for this year ( ): "in july opened first note-book on transmutation of species. had been greatly struck from about the month of previous march on character of south american fossils, and species on galapagos archipelago. these facts (especially latter), origin of all my views."] - . charles darwin to w.d. fox. great marlborough street, november th [ ]. my dear fox, i have taken a shamefully long time in answering your letter. but the busiest time of the whole voyage has been tranquillity itself to this last month. after paying henslow a short but very pleasant visit, i came up to town to wait for the "beagle's" arrival. at last i have removed all my property from on board, and sent the specimens of natural history to cambridge, so that i am now a free man. my london visit has been quite idle as far as natural history goes, but has been passed in most exciting dissipation amongst the dons in science. all my affairs, indeed, are most prosperous; i find there are plenty who will undertake the description of whole tribes of animals, of which i know nothing. so that about this day month i hope to set to work tooth and nail at the geology, which i shall publish by itself. it is quite ridiculous what an immensely long period it appears to me since landing at falmouth. the fact is i have talked and laughed enough for years instead of weeks, so [that] my memory is quite confounded with the noise. i am delighted to hear you are turned geologist: when i pay the isle of wight a visit, which i am determined shall somehow come to pass, you will be a capital cicerone to the famous line of dislocation. i really suppose there are few parts of the world more interesting to a geologist than your island. amongst the great scientific men, no one has been nearly so friendly and kind as lyell. i have seen him several times, and feel inclined to like him much. you cannot imagine how good-naturedly he entered into all my plans. i speak now only of the london men, for henslow was just like his former self, and therefore a most cordial and affectionate friend. when you pay london a visit i shall be very proud to take you to the geological society, for be it known, i was proposed to be a f.g.s. last tuesday. it is, however, a great pity that these and the other letters, especially f.r.s., are so very expensive. i do not scruple to ask you to write to me in a week's time in shrewsbury, for you are a good letter writer, and if people will have such good characters they must pay the penalty. good-bye, dear fox. yours, c.d. [his affairs being thus so far prosperously managed he was able to put into execution his plan of living at cambridge, where he settled on december th, . he was at first a guest in the comfortable home of the henslows, but afterwards, for the sake of undisturbed work, he moved into lodgings.] he thus writes to fox, march th, , from london:-- "my residence at cambridge was rather longer than i expected, owing to a job which i determined to finish there, namely, looking over all my geological specimens. cambridge yet continues a very pleasant, but not half so merry a place as before. to walk through the courts of christ's college, and not know an inhabitant of a single room, gave one a feeling half melancholy. the only evil i found in cambridge was its being too pleasant: there was some agreeable party or another every evening, and one cannot say one is engaged with so much impunity there as in this great city." a trifling record of my father's presence in cambridge occurs in the book kept in christ's college combination-room, where fines and bets were recorded, the earlier entries giving a curious impression of the after-dinner frame of mind of the fellows. the bets were not allowed to be made in money, but were, like the fines, paid in wine. the bet which my father made and lost is thus recorded:-- "february , ." mr. darwin v. mr. baines, that the combination-room measures from the ceiling to the floor more than (x) feet. bottle paid same day. "n.b. mr. darwin may measure at any part of the room he pleases." besides arranging the geological and mineralogical specimens, he had his 'journal of researches' to work at, which occupied his evenings at cambridge. he also read a short paper at the zoological society ("notes upon rhea americana," 'zool. soc. proc.' v. , pages , .), and another at the geological society ('geol. soc. proc.' ii. , pages - .), on the recent elevation of the coast of chile. early in the spring of (march th) he left cambridge for london, and a week later he was settled in lodgings at great marlborough street; and except for a "short visit to shrewsbury" in june, he worked on till september, being almost entirely employed on his 'journal.' he found time, however, for two papers at the geological society. ("a sketch of the deposits containing extinct mammalia in the neighbourhood of the plata," 'geol. soc. proc.' ii. , pages - ; and "on certain areas of elevation and subsidence in the pacific and indian oceans, as deduced from the study of coral formations." 'geol. soc. proc' ii. , pages - .) he writes of his work to fox (march, ):-- "in your last letter you urge me to get ready the book. i am now hard at work and give up everything else for it. our plan is as follows: captain fitz-roy writes two volumes out of the materials collected during the last voyage under capt. king to tierra del fuego, and during our circumnavigation. i am to have the third volume, in which i intend giving a kind of journal of a naturalist, not following, however, always the order of time, but rather the order of position. the habits of animals will occupy a large portion, sketches of the geology, the appearance of the country, and personal details will make the hodge-podge complete. afterwards i shall write an account of the geology in detail, and draw up some zoological papers. so that i have plenty of work for the next year or two, and till that is finished i will have no holidays." another letter to fox (july) gives an account of the progress of his work:-- "i gave myself a holiday and a visit to shrewsbury [in june], as i had finished my journal. i shall now be very busy in filling up gaps and getting it quite ready for the press by the first of august. i shall always feel respect for every one who has written a book, let it be what it may, for i had no idea of the trouble which trying to write common english could cost one. and, alas, there yet remains the worst part of all, correcting the press. as soon as ever that is done i must put my shoulder to the wheel and commence at the geology. i have read some short papers to the geological society, and they were favourably received by the great guns, and this gives me much confidence, and i hope not a very great deal of vanity, though i confess i feel too often like a peacock admiring his tail. i never expected that my geology would ever have been worth the consideration of such men as lyell, who has been to me, since my return, a most active friend. my life is a very busy one at present, and i hope may ever remain so; though heaven knows there are many serious drawbacks to such a life, and chief amongst them is the little time it allows one for seeing one's natural friends. for the last three years, i have been longing and longing to be living at shrewsbury, and after all now in the course of several months, i see my dear good people at shrewsbury for a week. susan and catherine have, however, been staying with my brother here for some weeks, but they had returned home before my visit." [besides the work already mentioned he had much to busy him in making arrangements for the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle".' the following letters illustrate this subject.] charles darwin to l. jenyns. (now rev l. blomefield.) great marlborough street, april th, . dear jenyns, during the last week several of the zoologists of this place have been urging me to consider the possibility of publishing the 'zoology of the "beagle's" voyage' on some uniform plan. mr. macleay (william sharp macleay was the son of alexander macleay, formerly colonial secretary of new south wales, and for many years secretary of the linnean society.) the son, who was a most zealous naturalist, and had inherited from his father a very large general collection of insects, made entomology his chief study, and gained great notoriety by his now forgotten "quinary system", set forth in the second part of his 'horae entomologicae,' published in .--[i am indebted to rev. l. blomefield for the foregoing note.] has taken a great deal of interest in the subject, and maintains that such a publication is very desirable, because it keeps together a series of observations made respecting animals inhabiting the same part of the world, and allows any future traveller taking them with him. how far this facility of reference is of any consequence i am very doubtful; but if such is the case, it would be more satisfactory to myself to see the gleanings of my hands, after having passed through the brains of other naturalists, collected together in one work. but such considerations ought not to have much weight. the whole scheme is at present merely floating in the air; but i was determined to let you know, as i should much like to know what you think about it, and whether you would object to supply descriptions of the fish to such a work instead of to 'transactions.' i apprehend the whole will be impracticable, without government will aid in engraving the plates, and this i fear is a mere chance, only i think i can put in a strong claim, and get myself well backed by the naturalists of this place, who nearly all take a good deal of interest in my collections. i mean to-morrow to see mr. yarrell; if he approves, i shall begin and take more active steps; for i hear he is most prudent and most wise. it is scarcely any use speculating about any plan, but i thought of getting subscribers and publishing the work in parts (as long as funds would last, for i myself will not lose money by it). in such case, whoever had his own part ready on any order might publish it separately (and ultimately the parts might be sold separately), so that no one should be delayed by the other. the plan would resemble, on a humble scale, ruppel's 'atlas,' or humboldt's 'zoologie,' where latreille, cuvier, etc., wrote different parts. i myself should have little to do with it; excepting in some orders adding habits and ranges, etc., and geographical sketches, and perhaps afterwards some descriptions of invertebrate animals... i am working at my journal; it gets on slowly, though i am not idle. i thought cambridge a bad place from good dinners and other temptations, but i find london no better, and i fear it may grow worse. i have a capital friend in lyell, and see a great deal of him, which is very advantageous to me in discussing much south american geology. i miss a walk in the country very much; this london is a vile smoky place, where a man loses a great part of the best enjoyments in life. but i see no chance of escaping, even for a week, from this prison for a long time to come. i fear it will be some time before we shall meet; for i suppose you will not come up here during the spring, and i do not think i shall be able to go down to cambridge. how i should like to have a good walk along the newmarket road to-morrow, but oxford street must do instead. i do hate the streets of london. will you tell henslow to be careful with the edible fungi from tierra del fuego, for i shall want some specimens for mr. brown, who seems particularly interested about them. tell henslow, i think my silicified wood has unflintified mr. brown's heart, for he was very gracious to me, and talked about the galapagos plants; but before he never would say a word. it is just striking twelve o'clock; so i will wish you a very good night. my dear jenyns, yours most truly, charles darwin. [a few weeks later the plan seems to have been matured, and the idea of seeking government aid to have been adopted.] charles darwin to j.s. henslow. great marlborough street, [ th may, ]. my dear henslow, i was very glad to receive your letter. i wanted much to hear how you were getting on with your manifold labours. indeed i do not wonder your head began to ache; it is almost a wonder you have any head left. your account of the gamlingay expedition was cruelly tempting, but i cannot anyhow leave london. i wanted to pay my good, dear people at shrewsbury a visit of a few days, but i found i could not manage it; at present i am waiting for the signatures of the duke of somerset, as president of the linnean, and of lord derby and whewell, to a statement of the value of my collection; the instant i get this i shall apply to government for assistance in engraving, and so publish the 'zoology' on some uniform plan. it is quite ridiculous the time any operation requires which depends on many people. i have been working very steadily, but have only got two-thirds through the journal part alone. i find, though i remain daily many hours at work, the progress is very slow: it is an awful thing to say to oneself, every fool and every clever man in england, if he chooses, may make as many ill-natured remarks as he likes on this unfortunate sentence.... in august he writes to henslow to announce the success of the scheme for the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle",' through the promise of a grant of pounds from the treasury: "i have delayed writing to you, to thank you most sincerely for having so effectually managed my affair. i waited till i had an interview with the chancellor of the exchequer (t. spring rice.). he appointed to see me this morning, and i had a long conversation with him, mr. peacock being present. nothing could be more thoroughly obliging and kind than his whole manner. he made no sort of restriction, but only told me to make the most of [the] money, which of course i am right willing to do. "i expected rather an awful interview, but i never found anything less so in my life. it will be my fault if i do not make a good work; but i sometimes take an awful fright that i have not materials enough. it will be excessively satisfactory at the end of some two years to find all materials made the most they were capable of." later in the autumn he wrote to henslow: "i have not been very well of late, with an uncomfortable palpitation of the heart, and my doctors urge me strongly to knock off all work, and go and live in the country for a few weeks." he accordingly took a holiday of about a month at shrewsbury and maer, and paid a visit in the isle of wight. it was, i believe, during this visit, at mr. wedgwood's house at maer, that he made his first observations on the work done by earthworms, and late in the autumn he read a paper on the subject at the geological society. ("on the formation of mould," 'geol. soc. proc.' ii. , pages - .) during these two months he was also busy preparing the scheme of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle",' and in beginning to put together the geological results of his travels. the following letter refers to the proposal that he should take the secretaryship of the geological society.] charles darwin to j.s. henslow. october th, [ ]. my dear henslow, ...i am much obliged to you for your message about the secretaryship. i am exceedingly anxious for you to hear my side of the question, and will you be so kind as afterwards to give me your fair judgment. the subject has haunted me all summer. i am unwilling to undertake the office for the following reasons: first, my entire ignorance of english geology, a knowledge of which would be almost necessary in order to shorten many of the papers before reading them before the society, or rather to know what parts to skip. again, my ignorance of all languages, and not knowing how to pronounce a single word of french--a language so perpetually quoted. it would be disgraceful to the society to have a secretary who could not read french. secondly, the loss of time; pray consider that i should have to look after the artists, superintend and furnish materials for the government work, which will come out in parts, and which must appear regularly. all my geological notes are in a very rough state; none of my fossil shells worked up; and i have much to read. i have had hopes, by giving up society and not wasting an hour, that i should finish my geology in a year and a half, by which time the description of the higher animals by others would be completed, and my whole time would then necessarily be required to complete myself the description of the invertebrate ones. if this plan fails, as the government work must go on, the geology would necessarily be deferred till probably at least three years from this time. in the present state of the science, a great part of the utility of the little i have done would be lost, and all freshness and pleasure quite taken from me. i know from experience the time required to make abstracts even of my own papers for the 'proceedings.' if i was secretary, and had to make double abstracts of each paper, studying them before reading, and attendance would at least cost me three days (and often more) in the fortnight. there are likewise other accidental and contingent losses of time; i know dr. royle found the office consumed much of his time. if by merely giving up any amusement, or by working harder than i have done, i could save time, i would undertake the secretaryship; but i appeal to you whether, with my slow manner of writing, with two works in hand, and with the certainty, if i cannot complete the geological part within a fixed period, that its publication must be retarded for a very long time,--whether any society whatever has any claim on me for three days' disagreeable work every fortnight. i cannot agree that it is a duty on my part, as a follower of science, as long as i devote myself to the completion of the work i have in hand, to delay that, by undertaking what may be done by any person who happens to have more spare time than i have at present. moreover, so early in my scientific life, with so very much as i have to learn, the office, though no doubt a great honour, etc., for me, would be the more burdensome. mr. whewell (i know very well), judging from himself, will think i exaggerate the time the secretaryship would require; but i absolutely know the time which with me the simplest writing consumes. i do not at all like appearing so selfish as to refuse mr. whewell, more especially as he has always shown, in the kindest manner, an interest in my affairs. but i cannot look forward with even tolerable comfort to undertaking an office without entering on it heart and soul, and that would be impossible with the government work and the geology in hand. my last objection is, that i doubt how far my health will stand the confinement of what i have to do, without any additional work. i merely repeat, that you may know i am not speaking idly, that when i consulted dr. clark in town, he at first urged me to give up entirely all writing and even correcting press for some weeks. of late anything which flurries me completely knocks me up afterwards, and brings on a violent palpitation of the heart. now the secretaryship would be a periodical source of more annoying trouble to me than all the rest of the fortnight put together. in fact, till i return to town, and see how i get on, if i wished the office ever so much, i could not say i would positively undertake it. i beg of you to excuse this very long prose all about myself, but the point is one of great interest. i can neither bear to think myself very selfish and sulky, nor can i see the possibility of my taking the secretaryship without making a sacrifice of all my plans and a good deal of comfort. if you see whewell, would you tell him the substance of this letter; or, if he will take the trouble, he may read it. my dear henslow, i appeal to you in loco parentis. pray tell me what you think? but do not judge me by the activity of mind which you and a few others possess, for in that case the more difficult things in hand the pleasanter the work; but, though i hope i never shall be idle, such is not the case with me. ever, dear henslow, yours most truly, c. darwin. [he ultimately accepted the post, and held it for three years--from february , , to february , . after being assured of the grant for the publication of the 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle",' there was much to be done in arranging the scheme of publication, and this occupied him during part of october and november.] charles darwin to j.s. henslow. [ th november, .] my dear henslow, ...pray tell leonard (rev. l. jenyns.) that my government work is going on smoothly, and i hope will be prosperous. he will see in the prospectus his name attached to the fish; i set my shoulders to the work with a good heart. i am very much better than i was during the last month before my shrewsbury visit. i fear the geology will take me a great deal of time; i was looking over one set of notes, and the quantity i found i had to read, for that one place was frightful. if i live till i am eighty years old i shall not cease to marvel at finding myself an author; in the summer before i started, if any one had told me that i should have been an angel by this time, i should have thought it an equal impossibility. this marvellous transformation is all owing to you. i am sorry to find that a good many errata are left in the part of my volume, which is printed. during my absence mr. colburn employed some goose to revise, and he has multiplied, instead of diminishing my oversights; but for all that, the smooth paper and clear type has a charming appearance, and i sat the other evening gazing in silent admiration at the first page of my own volume, when i received it from the printers! good-bye, my dear henslow, c. darwin. . [from the beginning of this year to nearly the end of june, he was busily employed on the zoological and geological results of his voyage. this spell of work was interrupted only by a visit of three days to cambridge, in may; and even this short holiday was taken in consequence of failing health, as we may assume from the entry in his diary: "may st, unwell," and from a letter to his sister (may , ), when he wrote:-- "my trip of three days to cambridge has done me such wonderful good, and filled my limbs with such elasticity, that i must get a little work out of my body before another holiday." this holiday seems to have been thoroughly enjoyed; he wrote to his sister:-- "now for cambridge: i stayed at henslow's house and enjoyed my visit extremely. my friends gave me a most cordial welcome. indeed, i was quite a lion there. mrs. henslow unfortunately was obliged to go on friday for a visit in the country. that evening we had at henslow's a brilliant party of all the geniuses in cambridge, and a most remarkable set of men they most assuredly are. on saturday i rode over to l. jenyns', and spent the morning with him. i found him very cheerful, but bitterly complaining of his solitude. on saturday evening dined at one of the colleges, played at bowls on the college green after dinner, and was deafened with nightingales singing. sunday, dined in trinity; capital dinner, and was very glad to sit by professor lee (samuel lee, of queens', was professor of arabic from to , and regius professor of hebrew from to .)...; i find him a very pleasant chatting man, and in high spirits like a boy, at having lately returned from a living or a curacy, for seven years in somersetshire, to civilised society and oriental manuscripts. he had exchanged his living to one within fourteen miles of cambridge, and seemed perfectly happy. in the evening attended trinity chapel, and heard 'the heavens are telling the glory of god,' in magnificent style; the last chorus seemed to shake the very walls of the college. after chapel a large party in sedgwick's rooms. so much for my annals." he started, towards the end of june, on his expedition to glen roy, of which he writes to fox: "i have not been very well of late, which has suddenly determined me to leave london earlier than i had anticipated. i go by the steam-packet to edinburgh,--take a solitary walk on salisbury craigs, and call up old thoughts of former times, then go on to glasgow and the great valley of inverness, near which i intend stopping a week to geologise the parallel roads of glen roy, thence to shrewsbury, maer for one day, and london for smoke, ill-health and hard work." he spent "eight good days" over the parallel roads. his essay on this subject was written out during the same summer, and published by the royal society. ('phil. trans.' , pages - .) he wrote in his pocket book: "september [ ]. finished the paper on 'glen roy,' one of the most difficult and instructive tasks i was ever engaged on." it will be remembered that in his 'recollections' he speaks of this paper as a failure, of which he was ashamed. at the time at which he wrote, the latest theory of the formation of the parallel roads was that of sir lauder dick and dr. macculloch, who believed that lakes had anciently existed in glen roy, caused by dams of rock or alluvium. in arguing against this theory he conceived that he had disproved the admissibility of any lake theory, but in this point he was mistaken. he wrote (glen roy paper, page ) "the conclusion is inevitable, that no hypothesis founded on the supposed existence of a sheet of water confined by barriers, that is a lake, can be admitted as solving the problematical origin of the parallel roads of lochaber." mr. archibald geikie has been so good as to allow me to quote a passage from a letter addressed to me (november , ) in compliance with my request for his opinion on the character of my father's glen roy work:-- "mr. darwin's 'glen roy' paper, i need not say, is marked by all his characteristic acuteness of observation and determination to consider all possible objections. it is a curious example, however, of the danger of reasoning by a method of exclusion in natural science. finding that the waters which formed the terraces in the glen roy region could not possibly have been dammed back by barriers of rock or of detritus, he saw no alternative but to regard them as the work of the sea. had the idea of transient barriers of glacier-ice occurred to him, he would have found the difficulties vanish from the lake-theory which he opposed, and he would not have been unconsciously led to minimise the altogether overwhelming objections to the supposition that the terraces are of marine origin." it may be added that the idea of the barriers being formed by glaciers could hardly have occurred to him, considering what was the state of knowledge at the time, and bearing in mind his want of opportunities of observing glacial action on a large scale. the latter half of july was passed at shrewsbury and maer. the only entry of any interest is one of being "very idle" at shrewsbury, and of opening "a note-book connected with metaphysical inquiries." in august he records that he read "a good deal of various amusing books, and paid some attention to metaphysical subjects." the work done during the remainder of the year comprises the book on coral reefs (begun in october), and some work on the phenomena of elevation in s. america.] charles darwin to c. lyell. great marlborough street, august th [ ]. my dear lyell, i do not write to you at norwich, for i thought i should have more to say, if i waited a few more days. very many thanks for the present of your 'elements,' which i received (and i believe the very first copy distributed) together with your note. i have read it through every word, and am full of admiration of it, and, as i now see no geologist, i must talk to you about it. there is no pleasure in reading a book if one cannot have a good talk over it; i repeat, i am full of admiration of it, it is as clear as daylight, in fact i felt in many parts some mortification at thinking how geologists have laboured and struggled at proving what seems, as you have put it, so evidently probable. i read with much interest your sketch of the secondary deposits; you have contrived to make it quite "juicy," as we used to say as children of a good story. there was also much new to me, and i have to copy out some fifty notes and references. it must do good, the heretics against common sense must yield...by the way, do you recollect my telling you how much i disliked the manner -- referred to his other works, as much as to say, "you must, ought, and shall buy everything i have written." to my mind, you have somehow quite avoided this; your references only seem to say, "i can't tell you all in this work, else i would, so you must go to the 'principles'"; and many a one, i trust, you will send there, and make them, like me, adorers of the good science of rock-breaking. you will see i am in a fit of enthusiasm, and good cause i have to be, when i find you have made such infinitely more use of my journal than i could have anticipated. i will say no more about the book, for it is all praise. i must, however, admire the elaborate honesty with which you quote the words of all living and dead geologists. my scotch expedition answered brilliantly; my trip in the steam-packet was absolutely pleasant, and i enjoyed the spectacle, wretch that i am, of two ladies, and some small children quite sea-sick, i being well. moreover, on my return from glasgow to liverpool, i triumphed in a similar manner over some full-grown men. i stayed one whole day in edinburgh, or more truly on salisbury craigs; i want to hear some day what you think about that classical ground,--the structure was to me new and rather curious,--that is, if i understand it right. i crossed from edinburgh in gigs and carts (and carts without springs, as i never shall forget) to loch leven. i was disappointed in the scenery, and reached glen roy on saturday evening, one week after leaving marlborough street. here i enjoyed five [?] days of the most beautiful weather with gorgeous sunsets, and all nature looking as happy as i felt. i wandered over the mountains in all directions, and examined that most extraordinary district. i think, without any exceptions, not even the first volcanic island, the first elevated beach, or the passage of the cordillera, was so interesting to me as this week. it is far the most remarkable area i ever examined. i have fully convinced myself (after some doubting at first) that the shelves are sea-beaches, although i could not find a trace of a shell; and i think i can explain away most, if not all, the difficulties. i found a piece of a road in another valley, not hitherto observed, which is important; and i have some curious facts about erratic blocks, one of which was perched up on a peak feet above the sea. i am now employed in writing a paper on the subject, which i find very amusing work, excepting that i cannot anyhow condense it into reasonable limits. at some future day i hope to talk over some of the conclusions with you, which the examination of glen roy has led me to. now i have had my talk out, i am much easier, for i can assure you glen roy has astonished me. i am living very quietly, and therefore pleasantly, and am crawling on slowly but steadily with my work. i have come to one conclusion, which you will think proves me to be a very sensible man, namely, that whatever you say proves right; and as a proof of this, i am coming into your way of only working about two hours at a spell; i then go out and do my business in the streets, return and set to work again, and thus make two separate days out of one. the new plan answers capitally; after the second half day is finished i go and dine at the athenaeum like a gentleman, or rather like a lord, for i am sure the first evening i sat in that great drawing-room, all on a sofa by myself, i felt just like a duke. i am full of admiration at the athenaeum, one meets so many people there that one likes to see. the very first time i dined there (i.e. last week) i met dr. fitton (w.h. fitton ( - ) was a physician and geologist, and sometime president of the geological society. he established the 'proceedings,' a mode of publication afterwards adopted by other societies.) at the door, and he got together quite a party--robert brown, who is gone to paris and auvergne, macleay [?] and dr. boott. (francis boott ( - ) is chiefly known as a botanist through his work on the genus carex. he was also well-known in connection with the linnean society of which he was for many years an office-bearer. he is described (in a biographical sketch published in the "gardener's chronicle", ) as having been one of the first physicians in london who gave up the customary black coat, knee-breeches and silk stockings, and adopted the ordinary dress of the period, a blue coat with brass buttons, and a buff waiscoat, a costume which he continued to wear to the last. after giving up practice, which he did early in life, he spent much of his time in acts of unpretending philanthropy.) your helping me into the athenaeum has not been thrown away, and i enjoy it the more because i fully expected to detest it. i am writing you a most unmerciful letter, but i shall get owen to take it to newcastle. if you have a mind to be a very generous man you will write to me from kinnordy (the house of lyell's father.), and tell me some newcastle news, as well as about the craig, and about yourself and mrs. lyell, and everything else in the world. i will send by hall the 'entomological transactions,' which i have borrowed for you; you will be disappointed in --'s papers, that is if you suppose my dear friend has a single clear idea upon any one subject. he has so involved recent insects and true fossil insects in one table that i fear you will not make much out of it, though it is a subject which ought i should think to come into the 'principles.' you will be amused at some of the ridiculo-sublime passages in the papers, and no doubt will feel acutely a sneer there is at yourself. i have heard from more than one quarter that quarrelling is expected at newcastle (at the meeting of the british association.); i am sorry to hear it. i met old -- this evening at the athenaeum, and he muttered something about writing to you or some one on the subject; i am however all in the dark. i suppose, however, i shall be illuminated, for i am going to dine with him in a few days, as my inventive powers failed in making any excuse. a friend of mine dined with him the other day, a party of four, and they finished ten bottles of wine--a pleasant prospect for me; but i am determined not even to taste his wine, partly for the fun of seeing his infinite disgust and surprise... i pity you the infliction of this most unmerciful letter. pray remember me most kindly to mrs. lyell when you arrive at kinnordy. i saw her name in the landlord's book of inverorum. tell mrs. lyell to read the second series of 'mr. slick of slickville's sayings.'...he almost beats "samivel," that prince of heroes. goodnight, my dear lyell; you will think i have been drinking some strong drink to write so much nonsense, but i did not even taste minerva's small beer to-day. yours most sincerely, chas. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. friday night, september th [ ]. my dear lyell, i was astonished and delighted at your gloriously long letter, and i am sure i am very much obliged to mrs. lyell for having taken the trouble to write so much. (lyell dictated much of his correspondence.) i mean to have a good hour's enjoyment and scribble away to you, who have so much geological sympathy that i do not care how egotistically i write... i have got so much to say about all sorts of trifling things that i hardly know what to begin about. i need not say how pleased i am to hear that mr. lyell (father of the geologist.) likes my journal. to hear such tidings is a kind of resurrection, for i feel towards my first-born child as if it had long since been dead, buried, and forgotten; but the past is nothing and the future everything to us geologists, as you show in your capital motto to the 'elements.' by the way, have you read the article, in the 'edinburgh review,' on m. comte, 'cours de la philosophie' (or some such title)? it is capital; there are some fine sentences about the very essence of science being prediction, which reminded me of "its law being progress." i will now begin and go through your letter seriatim. i dare say your plan of putting the elie de beaumont's chapter separately and early will be very good; anyhow, it is showing a bold front in the first edition which is to be translated into french. it will be a curious point to geologists hereafter to note how long a man's name will support a theory so completely exposed as that of de beaumont's has been by you; you say you "begin to hope that the great principles there insisted on will stand the test of time." begin to hope: why, the possibility of a doubt has never crossed my mind for many a day. this may be very unphilosophical, but my geological salvation is staked on it. after having just come back from glen roy, and found how difficulties smooth away under your principles, it makes me quite indignant that you should talk of hoping. with respect to the question, how far my coral theory bears on de beaumont's theory, i think it would be prudent to quote me with great caution until my whole account is published, and then you (and others) can judge how far there is foundation for such generalisation. mind, i do not doubt its truth; but the extension of any view over such large spaces, from comparatively few facts, must be received with much caution. i do not myself the least doubt that within the recent (or as you, much to my annoyment, would call it, "new pliocene") period, tortuous bands--not all the bands parallel to each other--have been elevated and corresponding ones subsided, though within the same period some parts probably remained for a time stationary, or even subsided. i do not believe a more utterly false view could have been invented than great straight lines being suddenly thrown up. when my book on volcanoes and coral reefs will be published i hardly know; i fear it will be at least four or five months; though, mind, the greater part is written. i find so much time is lost in correcting details and ascertaining their accuracy. the government zoological work is a millstone round my neck, and the glen roy paper has lost me six weeks. i will not, however, say lost; for, supposing i can prove to others' satisfaction what i have convinced myself is the case, the inference i think you will allow to be important. i cannot doubt that the molten matter beneath the earth's crust possesses a high degree of fluidity, almost like the sea beneath the block ice. by the way, i hope you will give me some swedish case to quote, of shells being preserved on the surface, but not in contemporaneous beds of gravel... remember what i have often heard you say: the country is very bad for the intellects; the scotch mists will put out some volcanic speculations. you see i am affecting to become very cockneyfied, and to despise the poor country-folk, who breath fresh air instead of smoke, and see the goodly fields instead of the brick houses in marlborough street, the very sight of which i confess i abhor. i am glad to hear what a favourable report you give of the british association. i am the more pleased because i have been fighting its battles with basil hall, stokes, and several others, having made up my mind, from the report in the "athenaeum", that it must have been an excellent meeting. i have been much amused with an account i have received of the wars of don roderick (murchison.) and babbage. what a grievous pity it is that the latter should be so implacable...this is a most rigmarole letter, for after each sentence i take breath, and you will have need of it in reading it... i wish with all my heart that my geological book was out. i have every motive to work hard, and will, following your steps, work just that degree of hardness to keep well. i should like my volume to be out before your new edition of 'principles' appears. besides the coral theory, the volcanic chapters will, i think, contain some new facts. i have lately been sadly tempted to be idle--that is, as far as pure geology is concerned--by the delightful number of new views which have been coming in thickly and steadily,--on the classification and affinities and instincts of animals--bearing on the question of species. note-book after note-book has been filled with facts which begin to group themselves clearly under sub-laws. good night, my dear lyell. i have filled my letter and enjoyed my talk to you as much as i can without having you in propria persona. think of the bad effects of the country--so once more good night. ever yours, chas. darwin. pray again give my best thanks to mrs. lyell. [the record of what he wrote during the year does not give a true index of the most important work that was in progress,--the laying of the foundation-stones of what was to be the achievement of his life. this is shown in the foregoing letter to lyell, where he speaks of being "idle," and the following extract from a letter to fox, written in june, is of interest in this point of view: "i am delighted to hear you are such a good man as not to have forgotten my questions about the crossing of animals. it is my prime hobby, and i really think some day i shall be able to do something in that most intricate subject, species and varieties."] - . [in the winter of (january ) my father was married to his cousin, emma wedgwood. (daughter of josiah wedgwood of maer, and grand-daughter of the founder of the etruria pottery works.) the house in which they lived for the first few years of their married life, no. upper gower street, was a small common-place london house, with a drawing-room in front, and a small room behind, in which they lived for the sake of quietness. in later years my father used to laugh over the surpassing ugliness of the furniture, carpets, etc., of the gower street house. the only redeeming feature was a better garden than most london houses have, a strip as wide as the house, and thirty yards long. even this small space of dingy grass made their london house more tolerable to its two country-bred inhabitants. of his life in london he writes to fox (october ): "we are living a life of extreme quietness; delamere itself, which you describe as so secluded a spot, is, i will answer for it, quite dissipated compared with gower street. we have given up all parties, for they agree with neither of us; and if one is quiet in london, there is nothing like its quietness--there is a grandeur about its smoky fogs, and the dull distant sounds of cabs and coaches; in fact you may perceive i am becoming a thorough-paced cockney, and i glory in thoughts that i shall be here for the next six months." the entries of ill health in the diary increase in number during these years, and as a consequence the holidays become longer and more frequent. from april to may , , he was at maer and shrewsbury. again, from august to october he was away from london at maer, shrewsbury, and at birmingham for the meeting of the british association. the entry under august is: "during my visit to maer, read a little, was much unwell and scandalously idle. i have derived this much good, that nothing is so intolerable as idleness." at the end of his eldest child was born, and it was then that he began his observations ultimately published in the 'expression of the emotions.' his book on this subject, and the short paper published in 'mind,' (july .) show how closely he observed his child. he seems to have been surprised at his own feelings for a young baby, for he wrote to fox (july ): "he [i.e. the baby] is so charming that i cannot pretend to any modesty. i defy anybody to flatter us on our baby, for i defy any one to say anything in its praise of which we are not fully conscious...i had not the smallest conception there was so much in a five-month baby. you will perceive by this that i have a fine degree of paternal fervour." during these years he worked intermittently at 'coral reefs,' being constantly interrupted by ill health. thus he speaks of "recommencing" the subject in february , and again in the october of the same year, and once more in july , "after more than thirteen months' interval." his other scientific work consisted of a contribution to the geological society ('geol. soc. proc.' iii. , and 'geol. soc. trans.' vi), on the boulders and "till" of south america, as well as a few other minor papers on geological subjects. he also worked busily at the ornithological part of the zoology of the "beagle", i.e. the notice of the habits and ranges of the birds which were described by gould.] charles darwin to c. lyell. wednesday morning [february ]. my dear lyell, many thanks for your kind note. i will send for the "scotsman". dr. holland thinks he has found out what is the matter with me, and now hopes he shall be able to set me going again. is it not mortifying, it is now nine weeks since i have done a whole day's work, and not more than four half days. but i won't grumble any more, though it is hard work to prevent doing so. since receiving your note i have read over my chapter on coral, and find i am prepared to stand by almost everything; it is much more cautiously and accurately written than i thought. i had set my heart upon having my volume completed before your new edition, but not, you may believe me, for you to notice anything new in it (for there is very little besides details), but you are the one man in europe whose opinion of the general truth of a toughish argument i should be always most anxious to hear. my ms. is in such confusion, otherwise i am sure you should most willingly if it had been worth your while, have looked at any part you choose.... [in a letter to fox (january ) he shows that his "species work" was still occupying his mind:-- "if you attend at all to natural history i send you this p.s. as a memento, that i continue to collect all kinds of facts about 'varieties and species,' for my some-day work to be so entitled; the smallest contributions thankfully accepted; descriptions of offspring of all crosses between all domestic birds and animals, dogs, cats, etc., etc., very valuable. don't forget, if your half-bred african cat should die that i should be very much obliged for its carcase sent up in a little hamper for the skeleton; it, or any cross-bred pigeons, fowl, duck, etc., etc., will be more acceptable than the finest haunch of venison, or the finest turtle." later in the year (september) he writes to fox about his health, and also with reference to his plan of moving into the country:-- "i have steadily been gaining ground, and really believe now i shall some day be quite strong. i write daily for a couple of hours on my coral volume, and take a little walk or ride every day. i grow very tired in the evenings, and am not able to go out at that time, or hardly to receive my nearest relations; but my life ceases to be burdensome now that i can do something. we are taking steps to leave london, and live about twenty miles from it on some railway."] . [the record of work includes his volume on 'coral reefs' (a notice of the coral reef work appeared in the geograph. soc. journal, xii., page .), the manuscript of which was at last sent to the printers in january of this year, and the last proof corrected in may. he thus writes of the work in his diary:-- "i commenced this work three years and seven months ago. out of this period about twenty months (besides work during "beagle's" voyage) has been spent on it, and besides it, i have only compiled the bird part of zoology; appendix to journal, paper on boulders, and corrected papers on glen roy and earthquakes, reading on species, and rest all lost by illness." in may and june he was at shrewsbury and maer, whence he went on to make the little tour in wales, of which he spoke in his 'recollections,' and of which the results were published as "notes on the effects produced by the ancient glaciers of caernarvonshire, and on the boulders transported by floating ice." ('philosophical magazine,' , page .) mr. archibald geikie speaks of this paper as standing "almost at the top of the long list of english contributions to the history of the ice age." (charles darwin, 'nature' series, page .) the latter part of this year belongs to the period including the settlement at down, and is therefore dealt with in another chapter.] chapter .viii. -- religion. [the history of this part of my father's life may justly include some mention of his religious views. for although, as he points out, he did not give continuous systematic thought to religious questions, yet we know from his own words that about this time ( - ) the subject was much before his mind.] in his published works he was reticent on the matter of religion, and what he has left on the subject was not written with a view to publication. (as an exception may be mentioned, a few words of concurrence with dr. abbot's 'truths for the times,' which my father allowed to be published in the "index".) i believe that his reticence arose from several causes. he felt strongly that a man's religion is an essentially private matter, and one concerning himself alone. this is indicated by the following extract from a letter of :--(addressed to mr. j. fordyce, and published by him in his 'aspects of scepticism,' .) "what my own views may be is a question of no consequence to any one but myself. but, as you ask, i may state that my judgment often fluctuates...in my most extreme fluctuations i have never been an atheist in the sense of denying the existence of a god. i think that generally (and more and more as i grow older), but not always, that an agnostic would be the more correct description of my state of mind." he naturally shrank from wounding the sensibilities of others in religious matters, and he was also influenced by the consciousness that a man ought not to publish on a subject to which he has not given special and continuous thought. that he felt this caution to apply to himself in the matter of religion is shown in a letter to dr. f.e. abbot, of cambridge, u.s. (september , ). after explaining that the weakness arising from his bad health prevented him from feeling "equal to deep reflection, on the deepest subject which can fill a man's mind," he goes on to say: "with respect to my former notes to you, i quite forget their contents. i have to write many letters, and can reflect but little on what i write; but i fully believe and hope that i have never written a word, which at the time i did not think; but i think you will agree with me, that anything which is to be given to the public ought to be maturely weighed and cautiously put. it never occurred to me that you would wish to print any extract from my notes: if it had, i would have kept a copy. i put 'private' from habit, only as yet partially acquired, from some hasty notes of mine having been printed, which were not in the least degree worth printing, though otherwise unobjectionable. it is simply ridiculous to suppose that my former note to you would be worth sending to me, with any part marked which you desire to print; but if you like to do so, i will at once say whether i should have any objection. i feel in some degree unwilling to express myself publicly on religious subjects, as i do not feel that i have thought deeply enough to justify any publicity." i may also quote from another letter to dr. abbot (november , ), in which my father gives more fully his reasons for not feeling competent to write on religious and moral subjects:-- "i can say with entire truth that i feel honoured by your request that i should become a contributor to the "index", and am much obliged for the draft. i fully, also, subscribe to the proposition that it is the duty of every one to spread what he believes to be the truth; and i honour you for doing so, with so much devotion and zeal. but i cannot comply with your request for the following reasons; and excuse me for giving them in some detail, as i should be very sorry to appear in your eyes ungracious. my health is very weak: i never pass hours without many hours of discomfort, when i can do nothing whatever. i have thus, also, lost two whole consecutive months this season. owing to this weakness, and my head being often giddy, i am unable to master new subjects requiring much thought, and can deal only with old materials. at no time am i a quick thinker or writer: whatever i have done in science has solely been by long pondering, patience and industry. "now i have never systematically thought much on religion in relation to science, or on morals in relation to society; and without steadily keeping my mind on such subjects for a long period, i am really incapable of writing anything worth sending to the 'index'." he was more than once asked to give his views on religion, and he had, as a rule, no objection to doing so in a private letter. thus in answer to a dutch student he wrote (april , ):-- "i am sure you will excuse my writing at length, when i tell you that i have long been much out of health, and am now staying away from my home for rest. "it is impossible to answer your question briefly; and i am not sure that i could do so, even if i wrote at some length. but i may say that the impossibility of conceiving that this grand and wondrous universe, with our conscious selves, arose through chance, seems to me the chief argument for the existence of god; but whether this is an argument of real value, i have never been able to decide. i am aware that if we admit a first cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came, and how it arose. nor can i overlook the difficulty from the immense amount of suffering through the world. i am, also, induced to defer to a certain extent to the judgment of the many able men who have fully believed in god; but here again i see how poor an argument this is. the safest conclusion seems to me that the whole subject is beyond the scope of man's intellect; but man can do his duty." again in he was applied to by a german student, in a similar manner. the letter was answered by a member of my father's family, who wrote:-- "mr. darwin begs me to say that he receives so many letters, that he cannot answer them all. "he considers that the theory of evolution is quite compatible with the belief in a god; but that you must remember that different persons have different definitions of what they mean by god." this, however, did not satisfy the german youth, who again wrote to my father, and received from him the following reply:-- "i am much engaged, an old man, and out of health, and i cannot spare time to answer your questions fully,--nor indeed can they be answered. science has nothing to do with christ, except in so far as the habit of scientific research makes a man cautious in admitting evidence. for myself, i do not believe that there ever has been any revelation. as for a future life, every man must judge for himself between conflicting vague probabilities." the passages which here follow are extracts, somewhat abbreviated, from a part of the autobiography, written in , in which my father gives the history of his religious views:-- "during these two years (october to january .) i was led to think much about religion. whilst on board the 'beagle' i was quite orthodox, and i remember being heartily laughed at by several of the officers (though themselves orthodox) for quoting the bible as an unanswerable authority on some point of morality. i suppose it was the novelty of the argument that amused them. but i had gradually come by this time, i.e. to , to see that the old testament was no more to be trusted than the sacred books of the hindoos. the question then continually rose before my mind and would not be banished,--is it credible that if god were now to make a revelation to the hindoos, he would permit it to be connected with the belief in vishnu, siva, etc., as christianity is connected with the old testament? this appeared to me utterly incredible. "by further reflecting that the clearest evidence would be requisite to make any sane man believe in the miracles by which christianity is supported,--and that the more we know of the fixed laws of nature the more incredible do miracles become,--that the men at that time were ignorant and credulous to a degree almost incomprehensible by us,--that the gospels cannot be proved to have been written simultaneously with the events,--that they differ in many important details, far too important, as it seemed to me, to be admitted as the usual inaccuracies of eye-witnesses;--by such reflections as these, which i give not as having the least novelty or value, but as they influenced me, i gradually came to disbelieve in christianity as a divine revelation. the fact that many false religions have spread over large portions of the earth like wild-fire had some weight with me. "but i was very unwilling to give up my belief; i feel sure of this, for i can well remember often and often inventing day-dreams of old letters between distinguished romans, and manuscripts being discovered at pompeii or elsewhere, which confirmed in the most striking manner all that was written in the gospels. but i found it more and more difficult, with free scope given to my imagination, to invent evidence which would suffice to convince me. thus disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but was at last complete. the rate was so slow that i felt no distress. "although i did not think much about the existence of a personal god until a considerably later period of my life, i will here give the vague conclusions to which i have been driven. the old argument from design in nature, as given by paley, which formerly seemed to me so conclusive, fails, now that the law of natural selection has been discovered. we can no longer argue that, for instance, the beautiful hinge of a bivalve shell must have been made by an intelligent being, like the hinge of a door by man. there seems to be no more design in the variability of organic beings, and in the action of natural selection, than in the course which the wind blows. but i have discussed this subject at the end of my book on the 'variations of domesticated animals and plants' (my father asks whether we are to believe that the forms are preordained of the broken fragments of rock tumbled from a precipice which are fitted together by man to build his houses. if not, why should we believe that the variations of domestic animals or plants are preordained for the sake of the breeder? "but if we give up the principle in one case,... no shadow of reason can be assigned for the belief that variations, alike in nature and the result of the same general laws, which have been the groundwork through natural selection of the formation of the most perfectly adapted animals in the world, man included, were intentionally and specially guided."--'the variation of animals and plants,' st edition volume ii. page .--f.d.), and the argument there given has never, as far as i can see, been answered. "but passing over the endless beautiful adaptations which we everywhere meet with, it may be asked how can the generally beneficent arrangement of the world be accounted for? some writers indeed are so much impressed with the amount of suffering in the world, that they doubt, if we look to all sentient beings, whether there is more of misery or of happiness; whether the world as a whole is a good or bad one. according to my judgment happiness decidedly prevails, though this would be very difficult to prove. if the truth of this conclusion be granted, it harmonises well with the effects which we might expect from natural selection. if all the individuals of any species were habitually to suffer to an extreme degree, they would neglect to propagate their kind; but we have no reason to believe that this has ever, or at least often occurred. some other considerations, moreover, lead to the belief that all sentient beings have been formed so as to enjoy, as a general rule, happiness. "everyone who believes, as i do, that all the corporeal and mental organs (excepting those which are neither advantageous nor disadvantageous to the possessor) of all beings have been developed through natural selection, or the survival of the fittest, together with use or habit, will admit that these organs have been formed so that their possessors may compete successfully with other beings, and thus increase in number. now an animal may be led to pursue that course of action which is most beneficial to the species by suffering, such as pain, hunger, thirst, and fear; or by pleasure, as in eating and drinking, and in the propagation of the species, etc.; or by both means combined, as in the search for food. but pain or suffering of any kind, if long continued, causes depression and lessens the power of action, yet is well adapted to make a creature guard itself against any great or sudden evil. pleasurable sensations, on the other hand, may be long continued without any depressing effect; on the contrary, they stimulate the whole system to increased action. hence it has come to pass that most or all sentient beings have been developed in such a manner, through natural selection, that pleasurable sensations serve as their habitual guides. we see this in the pleasure from exertion, even occasionally from great exertion of the body or mind,--in the pleasure of our daily meals, and especially in the pleasure derived from sociability, and from loving our families. the sum of such pleasures as these, which are habitual or frequently recurrent, give, as i can hardly doubt, to most sentient beings an excess of happiness over misery, although many occasionally suffer much. such suffering is quite compatible with the belief in natural selection, which is not perfect in its action, but tends only to render each species as successful as possible in the battle for life with other species, in wonderfully complex and changing circumstances. "that there is much suffering in the world no one disputes. some have attempted to explain this with reference to man by imagining that it serves for his moral improvement. but the number of men in the world is as nothing compared with that of all other sentient beings, and they often suffer greatly without any moral improvement. this very old argument from the existence of suffering against the existence of an intelligent first cause seems to me a strong one; whereas, as just remarked, the presence of much suffering agrees well with the view that all organic beings have been developed through variation and natural selection. "at the present day the most usual argument for the existence of an intelligent god is drawn from the deep inward conviction and feelings which are experienced by most persons. "formerly i was led by feelings such as those just referred to (although i do not think that the religious sentiment was ever strongly developed in me), to the firm conviction of the existence of god, and of the immortality of the soul. in my journal i wrote that whilst standing in the midst of the grandeur of a brazilian forest, "it is not possible to give an adequate idea of the higher feelings of wonder, admiration, and devotion, which fill and elevate the mind." i well remember my conviction that there is more in man than the mere breath of his body. but now the grandest scenes would not cause any such convictions and feelings to rise in my mind. it may be truly said that i am like a man who has become colour-blind, and the universal belief by men of the existence of redness makes my present loss of perception of not the least value as evidence. this argument would be a valid one if all men of all races had the same inward conviction of the existence of one god; but we know that this is very far from being the case. therefore i cannot see that such inward convictions and feelings are of any weight as evidence of what really exists. the state of mind which grand scenes formerly excited in me, and which was intimately connected with a belief in god, did not essentially differ from that which is often called the sense of sublimity; and however difficult it may be to explain the genesis of this sense, it can hardly be advanced as an argument for the existence of god, any more than the powerful though vague and similar feelings excited by music. "with respect to immortality, nothing shows me [so clearly] how strong and almost instinctive a belief it is, as the consideration of the view now held by most physicists, namely, that the sun with all the planets will in time grow too cold for life, unless indeed some great body dashes into the sun, and thus gives it fresh life. believing as i do that man in the distant future will be a far more perfect creature than he now is, it is an intolerable thought that he and all other sentient beings are doomed to complete annihilation after such long-continued slow progress. to those who fully admit the immortality of the human soul, the destruction of our world will not appear so dreadful. "another source of conviction in the existence of god, connected with the reason, and not with the feelings, impresses me as having much more weight. this follows from the extreme difficulty or rather impossibility of conceiving this immense and wonderful universe, including man with his capacity of looking far backwards and far into futurity, as the result of blind chance or necessity. when thus reflecting i feel compelled to look to a first cause having an intelligent mind in some degree analogous to that of man; and i deserve to be called a theist. this conclusion was strong in my mind about the time, as far as i can remember, when i wrote the 'origin of species;' and it is since that time that it has very gradually, with many fluctuations, become weaker. but then arises the doubt, can the mind of man, which has, as i fully believe, been developed from a mind as low as that possessed by the lowest animals, be trusted when it draws such grand conclusions? "i cannot pretend to throw the least light on such abstruse problems. the mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us; and i for one must be content to remain an agnostic." [the following letters repeat to some extent what has been given from the autobiography. the first one refers to 'the boundaries of science, a dialogue,' published in 'macmillan's magazine,' for july .] charles darwin to miss julia wedgwood. july [ ]. some one has sent us 'macmillan'; and i must tell you how much i admire your article; though at the same time i must confess that i could not clearly follow you in some parts, which probably is in main part due to my not being at all accustomed to metaphysical trains of thought. i think that you understand my book (the 'origin of species.') perfectly, and that i find a very rare event with my critics. the ideas in the last page have several times vaguely crossed my mind. owing to several correspondents i have been led lately to think, or rather to try to think over some of the chief points discussed by you. but the result has been with me a maze--something like thinking on the origin of evil, to which you allude. the mind refuses to look at this universe, being what it is, without having been designed; yet, where one would most expect design, viz. in the structure of a sentient being, the more i think on the subject, the less i can see proof of design. asa gray and some others look at each variation, or at least at each beneficial variation (which a. gray would compare with the rain drops (dr. gray's rain-drop metaphor occurs in the essay 'darwin and his reviewers' ('darwiniana,' page ): "the whole animate life of a country depends absolutely upon the vegetation, the vegetation upon the rain. the moisture is furnished by the ocean, is raised by the sun's heat from the ocean's surface, and is wafted inland by the winds. but what multitudes of rain-drops fall back into the ocean--are as much without a final cause as the incipient varieties which come to nothing! does it therefore follow that the rains which are bestowed upon the soil with such rule and average regularity were not designed to support vegetable and animal life?") which do not fall on the sea, but on to the land to fertilize it) as having been providentially designed. yet when i ask him whether he looks at each variation in the rock-pigeon, by which man has made by accumulation a pouter or fantail pigeon, as providentially designed for man's amusement, he does not know what to answer; and if he, or any one, admits [that] these variations are accidental, as far as purpose is concerned (of course not accidental as to their cause or origin); then i can see no reason why he should rank the accumulated variations by which the beautifully adapted woodpecker has been formed, as providentially designed. for it would be easy to imagine the enlarged crop of the pouter, or tail of the fantail, as of some use to birds, in a state of nature, having peculiar habits of life. these are the considerations which perplex me about design; but whether you will care to hear them, i know not.... [on the subject of design, he wrote (july ) to dr. gray: "one word more on 'designed laws' and 'undesigned results.' i see a bird which i want for food, take my gun and kill it, i do this designedly. an innocent and good man stands under a tree and is killed by a flash of lightning. do you believe (and i really should like to hear) that god designedly killed this man? many or most persons do believe this; i can't and don't. if you believe so, do you believe that when a swallow snaps up a gnat that god designed that that particular swallow should snap up that particular gnat at that particular instant? i believe that the man and the gnat are in the same predicament. if the death of neither man nor gnat are designed, i see no good reason to believe that their first birth or production should be necessarily designed."] charles darwin to w. graham. down, july rd, . dear sir, i hope that you will not think it intrusive on my part to thank you heartily for the pleasure which i have derived from reading your admirably written 'creed of science,' though i have not yet quite finished it, as now that i am old i read very slowly. it is a very long time since any other book has interested me so much. the work must have cost you several years and much hard labour with full leisure for work. you would not probably expect any one fully to agree with you on so many abstruse subjects; and there are some points in your book which i cannot digest. the chief one is that the existence of so-called natural laws implies purpose. i cannot see this. not to mention that many expect that the several great laws will some day be found to follow inevitably from some one single law, yet taking the laws as we now know them, and look at the moon, where the law of gravitation--and no doubt of the conservation of energy--of the atomic theory, etc. etc., hold good, and i cannot see that there is then necessarily any purpose. would there be purpose if the lowest organisms alone, destitute of consciousness existed in the moon? but i have had no practice in abstract reasoning, and i may be all astray. nevertheless you have expressed my inward conviction, though far more vividly and clearly than i could have done, that the universe is not the result of chance. (the duke of argyll ('good words,' ap. , page ) has recorded a few words on this subject, spoken by my father in the last year of his life. "...in the course of that conversation i said to mr. darwin, with reference to some of his own remarkable works on the 'fertilization of orchids,' and upon 'the earthworms,' and various other observations he made of the wonderful contrivances for certain purposes in nature--i said it was impossible to look at these without seeing that they were the effect and the expression of mind. i shall never forget mr. darwin's answer. he looked at me very hard and said, 'well, that often comes over me with overwhelming force; but at other times,' and he shook his head vaguely, adding, 'it seems to go away.'") but then with me the horrid doubt always arises whether the convictions of man's mind, which has been developed from the mind of the lower animals, are of any value or at all trustworthy. would any one trust in the convictions of a monkey's mind, if there are any convictions in such a mind? secondly, i think that i could make somewhat of a case against the enormous importance which you attribute to our greatest men; i have been accustomed to think, second, third, and fourth rate men of very high importance, at least in the case of science. lastly, i could show fight on natural selection having done and doing more for the progress of civilization than you seem inclined to admit. remember what risk the nations of europe ran, not so many centuries ago of being overwhelmed by the turks, and how ridiculous such an idea now is! the more civilised so-called caucasian races have beaten the turkish hollow in the struggle for existence. looking to the world at no very distant date, what an endless number of the lower races will have been eliminated by the higher civilized races throughout the world. but i will write no more, and not even mention the many points in your work which have much interested me. i have indeed cause to apologise for troubling you with my impressions, and my sole excuse is the excitement in my mind which your book has aroused. i beg leave to remain, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged, charles darwin. [my father spoke little on these subjects, and i can contribute nothing from my own recollection of his conversation which can add to the impression here given of his attitude towards religion. some further idea of his views may, however, be gathered from occasional remarks in his letters.] (dr. aveling has published an account of a conversation with my father. i think that the readers of this pamphlet ('the religious views of charles darwin,' free thought publishing company, ) may be misled into seeing more resemblance than really existed between the positions of my father and dr. aveling: and i say this in spite of my conviction that dr. aveling gives quite fairly his impressions of my father's views. dr. aveling tried to show that the terms "agnostic" and "atheist" were practically equivalent--that an atheist is one who, without denying the existence of god, is without god, inasmuch as he is unconvinced of the existence of a deity. my father's replies implied his preference for the unaggressive attitude of an agnostic. dr. aveling seems (page ) to regard the absence of aggressiveness in my father's views as distinguishing them in an unessential manner from his own. but, in my judgment, it is precisely differences of this kind which distinguish him so completely from the class of thinkers to which dr. aveling belongs.) chapter .ix. -- life at down. - . "my life goes on like clockwork, and i am fixed on the spot where i shall end it." letter to captain fitz-roy, october, . [with the view of giving in the following chapters a connected account of the growth of the 'origin of species,' i have taken the more important letters bearing on that subject out of their proper chronological position here, and placed them with the rest of the correspondence bearing on the same subject; so that in the present group of letters we only get occasional hints of the growth of my father's views, and we may suppose ourselves to be looking at his life, as it might have been looked at by those who had no knowledge of the quiet development of his theory of evolution during this period.] on september , , my father left london with his family and settled at down. (i must not omit to mention a member of the household who accompanied him. this was his butler, joseph parslow, who remained in the family, a valued friend and servant, for forty years, and became as sir joseph hooker once remarked to me, "an integral part of the family, and felt to be such by all visitors at the house.") in the autobiographical chapter, his motives for taking this step in the country are briefly given. he speaks of the attendance at scientific societies, and ordinary social duties, as suiting his health so "badly that we resolved to live in the country, which we both preferred and have never repented of." his intention of keeping up with scientific life in london is expressed in a letter to fox (december, ):-- "i hope by going up to town for a night every fortnight or three weeks, to keep up my communication with scientific men and my own zeal, and so not to turn into a complete kentish hog." visits to london of this kind were kept up for some years at the cost of much exertion on his part. i have often heard him speak of the wearisome drives of ten miles to or from croydon or sydenham--the nearest stations--with an old gardener acting as coachman, who drove with great caution and slowness up and down the many hills. in later years, all regular scientific intercourse with london became, as before mentioned, an impossibility. the choice of down was rather the result of despair than of actual preference; my father and mother were weary of house-hunting, and the attractive points about the place thus seemed to them to counterbalance its somewhat more obvious faults. it had at least one desideratum, namely quietness. indeed it would have been difficult to find a more retired place so near to london. in a coach drive of some twenty miles was the only means of access to down; and even now that railways have crept closer to it, it is singularly out of the world, with nothing to suggest the neighbourhood of london, unless it be the dull haze of smoke that sometimes clouds the sky. the village stands in an angle between two of the larger high-roads of the country, one leading to tunbridge and the other to westerham and edenbridge. it is cut off from the weald by a line of steep chalk hills on the south, and an abrupt hill, now smoothed down by a cutting and embankment, must formerly have been something of a barrier against encroachments from the side of london. in such a situation, a village, communicating with the main lines of traffic, only by stony tortuous lanes, may well have been enabled to preserve its retired character. nor is it hard to believe in the smugglers and their strings of pack-horses making their way up from the lawless old villages of the weald, of which the memory still existed when my father settled in down. the village stands on solitary upland country, to feet above the sea,-- a country with little natural beauty, but possessing a certain charm in the shaws, or straggling strips of wood, capping the chalky banks and looking down upon the quiet ploughed lands of the valleys. the village, of three or four hundred inhabitants, consists of three small streets of cottages meeting in front of the little flint-built church. it is a place where new-comers are seldom seen, and the names occurring far back in the old church registers are still well-known in the village. the smock-frock is not yet quite extinct, though chiefly used as a ceremonial dress by the "bearers" at funerals: but as a boy i remember the purple or green smocks of the men at church. the house stands a quarter of a mile from the village, and is built, like so many houses of the last century, as near as possible to the road--a narrow lane winding away to the westerham high-road. in , it was dull and unattractive enough: a square brick building of three storeys, covered with shabby whitewash and hanging tiles. the garden had none of the shrubberies or walls that now give shelter; it was overlooked from the lane, and was open, bleak, and desolate. one of my father's first undertakings was to lower the lane by about two feet, and to build a flint wall along that part of it which bordered the garden. the earth thus excavated was used in making banks and mounds round the lawn: these were planted with evergreens, which now give to the garden its retired and sheltered character. the house was made to look neater by being covered with stucco, but the chief improvement effected was the building of a large bow extending up through three storeys. this bow became covered with a tangle of creepers, and pleasantly varied the south side of the house. the drawing-room, with its verandah opening into the garden, as well as the study in which my father worked during the later years of his life, were added at subsequent dates. eighteen acres of land were sold with the house, of which twelve acres on the south side of the house formed a pleasant field, scattered with fair-sized oaks and ashes. from this field a strip was cut off and converted into a kitchen garden, in which the experimental plot of ground was situated, and where the greenhouses were ultimately put up. the following letter to mr. fox (march th, ) gives among other things my father's early impressions of down:-- "i will tell you all the trifling particulars about myself that i can think of. we are now exceedingly busy with the first brick laid down yesterday to an addition to our house; with this, with almost making a new kitchen garden and sundry other projected schemes, my days are very full. i find all this very bad for geology, but i am very slowly progressing with a volume, or rather pamphlet, on the volcanic islands which we visited: i manage only a couple of hours per day and that not very regularly. it is uphill work writing books, which cost money in publishing, and which are not read even by geologists. i forget whether i ever described this place: it is a good, very ugly house with acres, situated on a chalk flat, feet above sea. there are peeps of far distant country and the scenery is moderately pretty: its chief merit is its extreme rurality. i think i was never in a more perfectly quiet country. three miles south of us the great chalk escarpment quite cuts us off from the low country of kent, and between us and the escarpment there is not a village or gentleman's house, but only great woods and arable fields (the latter in sadly preponderant numbers) so that we are absolutely at the extreme verge of the world. the whole country is intersected by foot-paths; but the surface over the chalk is clayey and sticky, which is the worst feature in our purchase. the dingles and banks often remind me of cambridgeshire and walks with you to cherry hinton, and other places, though the general aspect of the country is very different. i was looking over my arranged cabinet (the only remnant i have preserved of all my english insects), and was admiring panagaeus crux-major: it is curious the vivid manner in which this insect calls up in my mind your appearance, with little fan trotting after, when i was first introduced to you. those entomological days were very pleasant ones. i am very much stronger corporeally, but am little better in being able to stand mental fatigue, or rather excitement, so that i cannot dine out or receive visitors, except relations with whom i can pass some time after dinner in silence." i could have wished to give here some idea of the position which, at this period of his life, my father occupied among scientific men and the reading public generally. but contemporary notices are few and of no particular value for my purpose,--which therefore must, in spite of a good deal of pains, remain unfulfilled. his 'journal of researches' was then the only one of his books which had any chance of being commonly known. but the fact that it was published with the 'voyages' of captains king and fitz-roy probably interfered with its general popularity. thus lyell wrote to him in ('lyell's life,' ii. page ), "i assure you my father is quite enthusiastic about your journal...and he agrees with me that it would have a large sale if published separately. he was disappointed at hearing that it was to be fettered by the other volumes, for, although he should equally buy it, he feared so many of the public would be checked from doing so." in a notice of the three voyages in the 'edinburgh review' (july, ), there is nothing leading a reader to believe that he would find it more attractive than its fellow-volumes. and, as a fact, it did not become widely known until it was separately published in . it may be noted, however, that the 'quarterly review' (december, ) called the attention of its readers to the merits of the 'journal' as a book of travels. the reviewer speaks of the "charm arising from the freshness of heart which is thrown over these virgin pages of a strong intellectual man and an acute and deep observer." the german translation ( ) of the 'journal' received a favourable notice in no. of the 'heidelberger jahrbucher der literatur,' --where the reviewer speaks of the author's "varied canvas, on which he sketches in lively colours the strange customs of those distant regions with their remarkable fauna, flora and geological peculiarities." alluding to the translation, my father writes--"dr. dieffenbach...has translated my 'journal' into german, and i must, with unpardonable vanity, boast that it was at the instigation of liebig and humboldt." the geological work of which he speaks in the above letter to mr. fox occupied him for the whole of , and was published in the spring of the following year. it was entitled 'geological observations on the volcanic islands, visited during the voyage of h.m.s. "beagle", together with some brief notices on the geology of australia and the cape of good hope': it formed the second part of the 'geology of the voyage of the "beagle",' published "with the approval of the lords commissioners of her majesty's treasury." the volume on 'coral reefs' forms part i. of the series, and was published, as we have seen, in . for the sake of the non-geological reader, i may here quote professor geikie's words (charles darwin, 'nature' series, .) on these two volumes--which were up to this time my father's chief geological works. speaking of the 'coral reefs,' he says:--page , "this well-known treatise, the most original of all its author's geological memoirs, has become one of the classics of geological literature. the origin of those remarkable rings of coral-rock in mid-ocean has given rise to much speculation, but no satisfactory solution of the problem has been proposed. after visiting many of them, and examining also coral reefs that fringe islands and continents, he offered a theory which for simplicity and grandeur strikes every reader with astonishment. it is pleasant, after the lapse of many years, to recall the delight with which one first read the 'coral reefs'; how one watched the facts being marshalled into their places, nothing being ignored or passed lightly over; and how, step by step, one was led to the grand conclusion of wide oceanic subsidence. no more admirable example of scientific method was ever given to the world, and even if he had written nothing else, the treatise alone would have placed darwin in the very front of investigators of nature." it is interesting to see in the following extract from one of lyell's letters (to sir john herschel, may , . 'life of sir charles lyell,' vol. ii. page .) how warmly and readily he embraced the theory. the extract also gives incidentally some idea of the theory itself. "i am very full of darwin's new theory of coral islands, and have urged whewell to make him read it at our next meeting. i must give up my volcanic crater theory for ever, though it cost me a pang at first, for it accounted for so much, the annular form, the central lagoon, the sudden rising of an isolated mountain in a deep sea; all went so well with the notion of submerged, crateriform, and conical volcanoes,... and then the fact that in the south pacific we had scarcely any rocks in the regions of coral islands, save two kinds, coral limestone and volcanic! yet spite of all this, the whole theory is knocked on the head, and the annular shape and central lagoon have nothing to do with volcanoes, nor even with a crateriform bottom. perhaps darwin told you when at the cape what he considers the true cause? let any mountain be submerged gradually, and coral grow in the sea in which it is sinking, and there will be a ring of coral, and finally only a lagoon in the centre. why? for the same reason that a barrier reef of coral grows along certain coasts: australia, etc. coral islands are the last efforts of drowning continents to lift their heads above water. regions of elevation and subsidence in the ocean may be traced by the state of the coral reefs." there is little to be said as to published contemporary criticism. the book was not reviewed in the 'quarterly review' till , when a favourable notice was given. the reviewer speaks of the "bold and startling" character of the work, but seems to recognize the fact that the views are generally accepted by geologists. by that time the minds of men were becoming more ready to receive geology of this type. even ten years before, in , lyell ('life of sir charles lyell,' vol. ii. page .) says, "people are now much better prepared to believe darwin when he advances proofs of the slow rise of the andes, than they were in , when i first startled them with that doctrine." this sentence refers to the theory elaborated in my father's geological observations on south america ( ), but the gradual change in receptivity of the geological mind must have been favourable to all his geological work. nevertheless, lyell seems at first not to have expected any ready acceptance of the coral theory; thus he wrote to my father in :--"i could think of nothing for days after your lesson on coral reefs, but of the tops of submerged continents. it is all true, but do not flatter yourself that you will be believed till you are growing bald like me, with hard work and vexation at the incredulity of the world." the second part of the 'geology of the voyage of the "beagle",' i.e. the volume on volcanic islands, which specially concerns us now, cannot be better described than by again quoting from professor geikie (page ):-- "full of detailed observations, this work still remains the best authority on the general geological structure of most of the regions it describes. at the time it was written the 'crater of elevation theory,' though opposed by constant prevost, scrope, and lyell, was generally accepted, at least on the continent. darwin, however, could not receive it as a valid explanation of the facts; and though he did not share the view of its chief opponents, but ventured to propose a hypothesis of his own, the observations impartially made and described by him in this volume must be regarded as having contributed towards the final solution of the difficulty." professor geikie continues (page ): "he is one of the earliest writers to recognize the magnitude of the denudation to which even recent geological accumulations have been subjected. one of the most impressive lessons to be learnt from his account of 'volcanic islands' is the prodigious extent to which they have been denuded...he was disposed to attribute more of this work to the sea than most geologists would now admit; but he lived himself to modify his original views, and on this subject his latest utterances are quite abreast of the time." an extract from a letter of my father's to lyell shows his estimate of his own work. "you have pleased me much by saying that you intend looking through my 'volcanic islands': it cost me eighteen months!!! and i have heard of very few who have read it. now i shall feel, whatever little (and little it is) there is confirmatory of old work, or new, will work its effect and not be lost." the third of his geological books, 'geological observations on south america,' may be mentioned here, although it was not published until . "in this work the author embodied all the materials collected by him for the illustration of south american geology, save some which have been published elsewhere. one of the most important features of the book was the evidence which it brought forward to prove the slow interrupted elevation of the south american continent during a recent geological period." (geikie, loc. cit.) of this book my father wrote to lyell:--"my volume will be about pages, dreadfully dull, yet much condensed. i think whenever you have time to look through it, you will think the collection of facts on the elevation of the land and on the formation of terraces pretty good." of his special geological work as a whole, professor geikie, while pointing out that it was not "of the same epoch-making kind as his biological researches," remarks that he "gave a powerful impulse to" the general reception of lyell's teaching "by the way in which he gathered from all parts of the world facts in its support." work of the period to . the work of these years may be roughly divided into a period of geology from to , and one of zoology from onwards. i extract from his diary notices of the time spent on his geological books and on his 'journal.' 'volcanic islands.' summer of to january, . 'geology of south america.' july, , to april, . second edition of 'the journal,' october, , to october, . the time between october, , and october, , was practically given up to working at the cirripedia (barnacles); the results were published in two volumes by the ray society in and . his volumes on the fossil cirripedes were published by the palaeontographical society in and . some account of these volumes will be given later. the minor works may be placed together, independently of subject matter. "observations on the structure, etc., of the genus sagitta," ann. nat. hist. xiii., , pages - . "brief descriptions of several terrestrial planariae, etc.," ann. nat. hist. xiv., , pages - . "an account of the fine dust (a sentence occurs in this paper of interest, as showing that the author was alive to the importance of all means of distribution:-- "the fact that particles of this size have been brought at least miles from the land is interesting as bearing on the distribution of cryptogamic plants.") which often falls on vessels in the atlantic ocean," geol. soc. journ. ii., , pages - . "on the geology of the falkland islands," geol. soc. journ. ii., , pages - . "on the transportal of erratic boulders, etc.," geol. soc. journ. iv., , pages - . (an extract from a letter to lyell, , is of interest in connection with this essay:--"would you be so good (if you know it) as to put maclaren's address on the enclosed letter and post it. it is chiefly to enquire in what paper he has described the boulders on arthur's seat. mr. d. milne in the last edinburgh 'new phil. journal' [ ], has a long paper on it. he says: 'some glacialists have ventured to explain the transportation of boulders even in the situation of those now referred to, by imagining that they were transported on ice floes,' etc. he treats this view, and the scratching of rocks by icebergs, as almost absurd...he has finally stirred me up so, that (without you would answer him) i think i will send a paper in opposition to the same journal. i can thus introduce some old remarks of mine, and some new, and will insist on your capital observations in n. america. it is a bore to stop one's work, but he has made me quite wroth.") the article "geology," in the admiralty manual of scientific enquiry ( ), pages - . this was written in the spring of . "on british fossil lepadidae," 'geol. soc. journ.' vi., , pages - . "analogy of the structure of some volcanic rocks with that of glaciers," 'edin. roy. soc. proc.' ii., , pages - . professor geikie has been so good as to give me (in a letter dated november ) his impressions of my father's article in the 'admiralty manual.' he mentions the following points as characteristic of the work:-- " . great breadth of view. no one who had not practically studied and profoundly reflected on the questions discussed could have written it. " . the insight so remarkable in all that mr. darwin ever did. the way in which he points out lines of enquiry that would elucidate geological problems is eminently typical of him. some of these lines have never yet been adequately followed; so with regard to them he was in advance of his time. " . interesting and sympathetic treatment. the author at once puts his readers into harmony with him. he gives them enough of information to show how delightful the field is to which he invites them, and how much they might accomplish in it. there is a broad sketch of the subject which everybody can follow, and there is enough of detail to instruct and guide a beginner and start him on the right track. "of course, geology has made great strides since , and the article, if written now, would need to take notice of other branches of inquiry, and to modify statements which are not now quite accurate; but most of the advice mr. darwin gives is as needful and valuable now as when it was given. it is curious to see with what unerring instinct he seems to have fastened on the principles that would stand the test of time." in a letter to lyell ( ) my father wrote, "i went up for a paper by the arctic dr. sutherland, on ice action, read only in abstract, but i should think with much good matter. it was very pleasant to hear that it was written owing to the admiralty manual." to give some idea of the retired life which now began for my father at down, i have noted from his diary the short periods during which he was away from home between the autumn of , when he came to down, and the end of . july.--week at maer and shrewsbury. october.--twelve days at shrewsbury. april.--week at maer and shrewsbury. july.--twelve days at shrewsbury. september .--six weeks, "shrewsbury, lincolnshire, york, the dean of manchester, waterton, chatsworth." february.--eleven days at shrewsbury. july.--ten days at shrewsbury. september.--ten days at southampton, etc., for the british association. february.--twelve days at shrewsbury. june.--ten days at oxford, etc., for the british association. october.--fortnight at shrewsbury. may.--fortnight at shrewsbury. july.--week at swanage. october.--fortnight at shrewsbury. november.--eleven days at shrewsbury. march to june.--sixteen weeks at malvern. september.--eleven days at birmingham for the british association. june.--week at malvern. august.--week at leith hill, the house of a relative. october.--week at the house of another relative. march.--week at malvern. april.--nine days at malvern. july.--twelve days in london. march.--week at rugby and shrewsbury. september.--six days at the house of a relative. july.--three weeks at eastbourne. august.--five days at the military camp at chobham. march.--five days at the house of a relative. july.--three days at the house of a relative. october.--six days at the house of a relative. it will be seen that he was absent from home sixty weeks in twelve years. but it must be remembered that much of the remaining time spent at down was lost through ill-health.] letters. charles darwin to r. fitz-roy. down [march st, ]. dear fitz-roy, i read yesterday with surprise and the greatest interest, your appointment as governor of new zealand. i do not know whether to congratulate you on it, but i am sure i may the colony, on possessing your zeal and energy. i am most anxious to know whether the report is true, for i cannot bear the thoughts of your leaving the country without seeing you once again; the past is often in my memory, and i feel that i owe to you much bygone enjoyment, and the whole destiny of my life, which (had my health been stronger) would have been one full of satisfaction to me. during the last three months i have never once gone up to london without intending to call in the hopes of seeing mrs. fitz-roy and yourself; but i find, most unfortunately for myself, that the little excitement of breaking out of my most quiet routine so generally knocks me up, that i am able to do scarcely anything when in london, and i have not even been able to attend one evening meeting of the geological society. otherwise, i am very well, as are, thank god, my wife and two children. the extreme retirement of this place suits us all very well, and we enjoy our country life much. but i am writing trifles about myself, when your mind and time must be fully occupied. my object in writing is to beg of you or mrs. fitz-roy to have the kindness to send me one line to say whether it is true, and whether you sail soon. i shall come up next week for one or two days; could you see me for even five minutes, if i called early on thursday morning, viz. at nine or ten o'clock, or at whatever hour (if you keep early ship hours) you finish your breakfast. pray remember me very kindly to mrs. fitz-roy, who i trust is able to look at her long voyage with boldness. believe me, dear fitz-roy, your ever truly obliged, charles darwin. [a quotation from another letter ( ) to fitz-roy may be worth giving, as showing my father's affectionate remembrance of his old captain. "farewell, dear fitz-roy, i often think of your many acts of kindness to me, and not seldomest on the time, no doubt quite forgotten by you, when, before making madeira, you came and arranged my hammock with your own hands, and which, as i afterwards heard, brought tears into my father's eyes."] charles darwin to w.d. fox. [down, september , .] monday morning. my dear fox, when i sent off the glacier paper, i was just going out and so had no time to write. i hope your friend will enjoy (and i wish you were going there with him) his tour as much as i did. it was a kind of geological novel. but your friend must have patience, for he will not get a good glacial eye for a few days. murchison and count keyserling rushed through north wales the same autumn and could see nothing except the effects of rain trickling over the rocks! i cross-examined murchison a little, and evidently saw he had looked carefully at nothing. i feel certain about the glacier-effects in north wales. get up your steam, if this weather lasts, and have a ramble in wales; its glorious scenery must do every one's heart and body good. i wish i had energy to come to delamere and go with you; but as you observe, you might as well ask st. paul's. whenever i give myself a trip, it shall be, i think, to scotland, to hunt for more parallel roads. my marine theory for these roads was for a time knocked on the head by agassiz ice-work, but it is now reviving again... farewell,--we are getting nearly finished--almost all the workmen gone, and the gravel laying down on the walks. ave maria! how the money does go. there are twice as many temptations to extravagance in the country compared with london. adios. yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [ ?]. ...i have also read the 'vestiges,' ('the vestiges of the natural history of creation' was published anonymously in , and is confidently believed to have been written by the late robert chambers. my father's copy gives signs of having been carefully read, a long list of marked passages being pinned in at the end. one useful lesson he seems to have learned from it. he writes: "the idea of a fish passing into a reptile, monstrous. i will not specify any genealogies--much too little known at present." he refers again to the book in a letter to fox, february, : "have you read that strange, unphilosophical but capitally-written book, the 'vestiges': it has made more talk than any work of late, and has been by some attributed to me--at which i ought to be much flattered and unflattered."), but have been somewhat less amused at it than you appear to have been: the writing and arrangement are certainly admirable, but his geology strikes me as bad, and his zoology far worse. i should be very much obliged, if at any future or leisure time you could tell me on what you ground your doubtful belief in imagination of a mother affecting her offspring. (this refers to the case of a relative of sir j. hooker's, who insisted that a mole, which appeared on one of her children, was the effect of fright upon herself on having, before the birth of the child, blotted with sepia a copy of turner's 'liber studiorum' that had been lent to her with special injunctions to be careful.) i have attended to the several statements scattered about, but do not believe in more than accidental coincidences. w. hunter told my father, then in a lying-in hospital, that in many thousand cases, he had asked the mother, before her confinement, whether anything had affected her imagination, and recorded the answers; and absolutely not one case came right, though, when the child was anything remarkable, they afterwards made the cap to fit. reproduction seems governed by such similar laws in the whole animal kingdom, that i am most loth [to believe]... charles darwin to j.m. herbert. down [ or ]. my dear herbert, i was very glad to see your handwriting and hear a bit of news about you. though you cannot come here this autumn, i do hope you and mrs. herbert will come in the winter, and we will have lots of talk of old times, and lots of beethoven. i have little or rather nothing to say about myself; we live like clock-work, and in what most people would consider the dullest possible manner. i have of late been slaving extra hard, to the great discomfiture of wretched digestive organs, at south america, and thank all the fates, i have done three-fourths of it. writing plain english grows with me more and more difficult, and never attainable. as for your pretending that you will read anything so dull as my pure geological descriptions, lay not such a flattering unction on my soul (on the same subject he wrote to fitz-roy: "i have sent my 'south american geology' to dover street, and you will get it, no doubt, in the course of time. you do not know what you threaten when you propose to read it--it is purely geological. i said to my brother, 'you will of course read it,' and his answer was, 'upon my life, i would sooner even buy it.'") for it is incredible. i have long discovered that geologists never read each other's works, and that the only object in writing a book is a proof of earnestness, and that you do not form your opinions without undergoing labour of some kind. geology is at present very oral, and what i here say is to a great extent quite true. but i am giving you a discussion as long as a chapter in the odious book itself. i have lately been to shrewsbury, and found my father surprisingly well and cheerful. believe me, my dear old friend, ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, monday [february th, ]. my dear hooker, i am much obliged for your very agreeable letter; it was very good-natured, in the midst of your scientific and theatrical dissipation, to think of writing so long a letter to me. i am astonished at your news, and i must condole with you in your present view of the professorship (sir j.d. hooker was a candidate for the professorship of botany at edinburgh university.), and most heartily deplore it on my own account. there is something so chilling in a separation of so many hundred miles, though we did not see much of each other when nearer. you will hardly believe how deeply i regret for myself your present prospects. i had looked forward to [our] seeing much of each other during our lives. it is a heavy disappointment; and in a mere selfish point of view, as aiding me in my work, your loss is indeed irreparable. but, on the other hand, i cannot doubt that you take at present a desponding, instead of bright, view of your prospects: surely there are great advantages, as well as disadvantages. the place is one of eminence; and really it appears to me there are so many indifferent workers, and so few readers, that it is a high advantage, in a purely scientific point of view, for a good worker to hold a position which leads others to attend to his work. i forget whether you attended edinburgh, as a student, but in my time there was a knot of men who were far from being the indifferent and dull listeners which you expect for your audience. reflect what a satisfaction and honour it would be to make a good botanist--with your disposition you will be to many what henslow was at cambridge to me and others, a most kind friend and guide. then what a fine garden, and how good a public library! why, forbes always regrets the advantages of edinburgh for work: think of the inestimable advantage of getting within a short walk of those noble rocks and hills and sandy shores near edinburgh! indeed, i cannot pity you much, though i pity myself exceedingly in your loss. surely lecturing will, in a year or two, with your great capacity for work (whatever you may be pleased to say to the contrary) become easy, and you will have a fair time for your antarctic flora and general views of distribution. if i thought your professorship would stop your work, i should wish it and all the good worldly consequences at el diavolo. i know i shall live to see you the first authority in europe on that grand subject, that almost keystone of the laws of creation, geographical distribution. well, there is one comfort, you will be at kew, no doubt, every year, so i shall finish by forcing down your throat my sincere congratulations. thanks for all your news. i grieve to hear humboldt is failing; one cannot help feeling, though unrightly, that such an end is humiliating: even when i saw him he talked beyond all reason. if you see him again, pray give him my most respectful and kind compliments, and say that i never forget that my whole course of life is due to having read and re-read as a youth his 'personal narrative.' how true and pleasing are all your remarks on his kindness; think how many opportunities you will have, in your new place, of being a humboldt to others. ask him about the river in n.e. europe, with the flora very different on its opposite banks. i have got and read your wilkes; what a feeble book in matter and style, and how splendidly got up! do write me a line from berlin. also thanks for the proof-sheets. i do not, however, mean proof plates; i value them, as saving me copying extracts. farewell, my dear hooker, with a heavy heart i wish you joy of your prospects. your sincere friend, c. darwin. [the second edition of the 'journal,' to which the following letter refers, was completed between april th and august th. it was published by mr. murray in the 'colonial and home library,' and in this more accessible form soon had a large sale. up to the time of his first negotiations with mr. murray for its publication in this form, he had received payment only in the form of a large number of presentation copies, and he seems to have been glad to sell the copyright of the second edition to mr. murray for pounds. the points of difference between it and the first edition are of interest chiefly in connection with the growth of the author's views on evolution, and will be considered later.] charles darwin to c. lyell. down [july, ]. my dear lyell, i send you the first part (no doubt proof-sheets.) of the new edition [of the 'journal of researches'], which i so entirely owe to you. you will see that i have ventured to dedicate it to you (the dedication of the second edition of the 'journal of researches,' is as follows:--"to charles lyell, esq., f.r.s., this second edition is dedicated with grateful pleasure--as an acknowledgment that the chief part of whatever scientific merit this journal and the other works of the author may possess, has been derived from studying the well-known and admirable 'principles of geology.'"), and i trust that this cannot be disagreeable. i have long wished, not so much for your sake, as for my own feelings of honesty, to acknowledge more plainly than by mere reference, how much i geologically owe you. those authors, however, who like you, educate people's minds as well as teach them special facts, can never, i should think, have full justice done them except by posterity, for the mind thus insensibly improved can hardly perceive its own upward ascent. i had intended putting in the present acknowledgment in the third part of my geology, but its sale is so exceedingly small that i should not have had the satisfaction of thinking that as far as lay in my power i had owned, though imperfectly, my debt. pray do not think that i am so silly, as to suppose that my dedication can any ways gratify you, except so far as i trust you will receive it, as a most sincere mark of my gratitude and friendship. i think i have improved this edition, especially the second part, which i have just finished. i have added a good deal about the fuegians, and cut down into half the mercilessly long discussion on climate and glaciers, etc. i do not recollect anything added to the first part, long enough to call your attention to; there is a page of description of a very curious breed of oxen in banda oriental. i should like you to read the few last pages; there is a little discussion on extinction, which will not perhaps strike you as new, though it has so struck me, and has placed in my mind all the difficulties with respect to the causes of extinction, in the same class with other difficulties which are generally quite overlooked and undervalued by naturalists; i ought, however, to have made my discussion longer and shewn by facts, as i easily could, how steadily every species must be checked in its numbers. i received your travels ('travels in north america,' volumes, .) yesterday; and i like exceedingly its external and internal appearance; i read only about a dozen pages last night (for i was tired with hay-making), but i saw quite enough to perceive how very much it will interest me, and how many passages will be scored. i am pleased to find a good sprinkling of natural history; i shall be astonished if it does not sell very largely... how sorry i am to think that we shall not see you here again for so long; i wish you may knock yourself a little bit up before you start and require a day's fresh air, before the ocean breezes blow on you... ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, saturday [august st, ]. my dear lyell, i have been wishing to write to you for a week past, but every five minutes' worth of strength has been expended in getting out my second part. (of the second edition of the 'journal of researches.') your note pleased me a good deal more i dare say than my dedication did you, and i thank you much for it. your work has interested me much, and i will give you my impressions, though, as i never thought you would care to hear what i thought of the non-scientific parts, i made no notes, nor took pains to remember any particular impression of two-thirds of the first volume. the first impression i should say would be with most (though i have literally seen not one soul since reading it) regret at there not being more of the non-scientific [parts]. i am not a good judge, for i have read nothing, i.e. non-scientific about north america, but the whole struck me as very new, fresh, and interesting. your discussions bore to my mind the evident stamp of matured thought, and of conclusions drawn from facts observed by yourself, and not from the opinions of the people whom you met; and this i suspect is comparatively rare. your slave discussion disturbed me much; but as you would care no more for my opinion on this head than for the ashes of this letter, i will say nothing except that it gave me some sleepless, most uncomfortable hours. your account of the religious state of the states particularly interested me; i am surprised throughout at your very proper boldness against the clergy. in your university chapter the clergy, and not the state of education, are most severely and justly handled, and this i think is very bold, for i conceive you might crush a leaden-headed old don, as a don, with more safety, than touch the finger of that corporate animal, the clergy. what a contrast in education does england show itself! your apology (using the term, like the old religionists who meant anything but an apology) for lectures, struck me as very clever; but all the arguments in the world on your side, are not equal to one course of jamieson's lectures on the other side, which i formerly for my sins experienced. although i had read about the 'coalfields in north america,' i never in the smallest degree really comprehended their area, their thickness and favourable position; nothing hardly astounded me more in your book. some few parts struck me as rather heterogeneous, but i do not know whether to an extent that at all signified. i missed however, a good deal, some general heading to the chapters, such as the two or three principal places visited. one has no right to expect an author to write down to the zero of geographical ignorance of the reader; but i not knowing a single place, was occasionally rather plagued in tracing your course. sometimes in the beginning of a chapter, in one paragraph your course was traced through a half dozen places; anyone, as ignorant as myself, if he could be found, would prefer such a disturbing paragraph left out. i cut your map loose, and i found that a great comfort; i could not follow your engraved track. i think in a second edition, interspaces here and there of one line open, would be an improvement. by the way, i take credit to myself in giving my journal a less scientific air in having printed all names of species and genera in romans; the printing looks, also, better. all the illustrations strike me as capital, and the map is an admirable volume in itself. if your 'principles' had not met with such universal admiration, i should have feared there would have been too much geology in this for the general reader; certainly all that the most clear and light style could do, has been done. to myself the geology was an excellent, well-condensed, well-digested resume of all that has been made out in north america, and every geologist ought to be grateful to you. the summing up of the niagara chapter appeared to me the grandest part; i was also deeply interested by your discussion on the origin of the silurian formations. i have made scores of scores marking passages hereafter useful to me. all the coal theory appeared to me very good; but it is no use going on enumerating in this manner. i wish there had been more natural history; i liked all the scattered fragments. i have now given you an exact transcript of my thoughts, but they are hardly worth your reading... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, august th [ ]. my dear lyell, this is literally the first day on which i have had any time to spare; and i will amuse myself by beginning a letter to you... i was delighted with your letter in which you touch on slavery; i wish the same feelings had been apparent in your published discussion. but i will not write on this subject, i should perhaps annoy you, and most certainly myself. i have exhaled myself with a paragraph or two in my journal on the sin of brazilian slavery; you perhaps will think that it is in answer to you; but such is not the case. i have remarked on nothing which i did not hear on the coast of south america. my few sentences, however, are merely an explosion of feeling. how could you relate so placidly that atrocious sentiment (in the passage referred to, lyell does not give his own views, but those of a planter.) about separating children from their parents; and in the next page speak of being distressed at the whites not having prospered; i assure you the contrast made me exclaim out. but i have broken my intention, and so no more on this odious deadly subject. there is a favourable, but not strong enough review on you, in the "gardeners' chronicle". i am sorry to see that lindley abides by the carbonic acid gas theory. by the way, i was much pleased by lindley picking out my extinction paragraphs and giving them uncurtailed. to my mind, putting the comparative rarity of existing species in the same category with extinction has removed a great weight; though of course it does not explain anything, it shows that until we can explain comparative rarity, we ought not to feel any surprise at not explaining extinction... i am much pleased to hear of the call for a new edition of the 'principles': what glorious good that work has done. i fear this time you will not be amongst the old rocks; how i shall rejoice to live to see you publish and discover another stage below the silurian--it would be the grandest step possible, i think. i am very glad to hear what progress bunbury is making in fossil botany; there is a fine hiatus for him to fill up in this country. i will certainly call on him this winter...from what little i saw of him, i can quite believe everything which you say of his talents... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. shrewsbury [ ?]. my dear hooker, i have just received your note, which has astonished me, and has most truly grieved me. i never for one minute doubted of your success, for i most erroneously imagined, that merit was sure to gain the day. i feel most sure that the day will come soon, when those who have voted against you, if they have any shame or conscience in them, will be ashamed at having allowed politics to blind their eyes to your qualifications, and those qualifications vouched for by humboldt and brown! well, those testimonials must be a consolation to you. proh pudor! i am vexed and indignant by turns. i cannot even take comfort in thinking that i shall see more of you, and extract more knowledge from your well-arranged stock. i am pleased to think, that after having read a few of your letters, i never once doubted the position you will ultimately hold amongst european botanists. i can think about nothing else, otherwise i should like [to] discuss 'cosmos' (a translation of humboldt's 'kosmos.') with you. i trust you will pay me and my wife a visit this autumn at down. i shall be at down on the th, and till then moving about. my dear hooker, allow me to call myself your very true friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. october th [ ], shrewsbury. ...i have lately been taking a little tour to see a farm i have purchased in lincolnshire (he speaks of his lincolnshire farm in a letter to henslow (july th):--"i have bought a farm in lincolnshire, and when i go there this autumn, i mean to see what i can do in providing any cottage on my small estate with gardens. it is a hopeless thing to look to, but i believe few things would do this country more good in future ages than the destruction of primogeniture, so as to lessen the difference in land-wealth, and make more small freeholders. how atrociously unjust are the stamp laws, which render it so expensive for the poor man to buy his quarter of an acre; it makes one's blood burn with indignation.") and then to york, where i visited the dean of manchester (hon. and rev. w. herbert. the visit is mentioned in a letter to dr. hooker:--"i have been taking a little tour, partly on business, and visited the dean of manchester, and had very much interesting talk with him on hybrids, sterility, and variation, etc., etc. he is full of self-gained knowledge, but knows surprisingly little what others have done on the same subjects. he is very heterodox on 'species': not much better as most naturalists would esteem it, than poor mr. vestiges.") the great maker of hybrids, who gave me much curious information. i also visited waterton at walton hall, and was extremely amused with my visit there. he is an amusing strange fellow; at our early dinner, our party consisted of two catholic priests and two mulattresses! he is past sixty years old, and the day before ran down and caught a leveret in a turnip-field. it is a fine old house, and the lake swarms with water-fowl. i then saw chatsworth, and was in transport with the great hothouse; it is a perfect fragment of a tropical forest, and the sight made me think with delight of old recollections. my little ten-day tour made me feel wonderfully strong at the time, but the good effects did not last. my wife, i am sorry to say, does not get very strong, and the children are the hope of the family, for they are all happy, life, and spirits. i have been much interested with sedgwick's review (sedgwick's review of the 'vestiges of creation' in the 'edinburgh review,' july, .) though i find it far from popular with our scientific readers. i think some few passages savour of the dogmatism of the pulpit, rather than of the philosophy of the professor's chair; and some of the wit strikes me as only worthy of -- in the 'quarterly.' nevertheless, it is a grand piece of argument against mutability of species, and i read it with fear and trembling, but was well pleased to find that i had not overlooked any of the arguments, though i had put them to myself as feebly as milk and water. have you read 'cosmos' yet? the english translation is wretched, and the semi-metaphysico-politico descriptions in the first part are barely intelligible; but i think the volcanic discussion well worth your attention, it has astonished me by its vigour and information. i grieve to find humboldt an adorer of von buch, with his classification of volcanos, craters of elevation, etc., etc., and carbonic acid gas atmosphere. he is indeed a wonderful man. i hope to get home in a fortnight and stick to my wearyful south america till i finish it. i shall be very anxious to hear how you get on from the horners, but you must not think of wasting your time by writing to me. we shall miss, indeed, your visits to down, and i shall feel a lost man in london without my morning "house of call" at hart street... believe me, my dear lyell, ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, farnborough, kent. thursday, september, . my dear hooker, i hope this letter will catch you at clifton, but i have been prevented writing by being unwell, and having had the horners here as visitors, which, with my abominable press-work, has fully occupied my time. it is, indeed, a long time since we wrote to each other; though, i beg to tell you, that i wrote last, but what about i cannot remember, except, i know, it was after reading your last numbers (sir j.d. hooker's antarctic botany.), and i send you a uniquely laudatory epistle, considering it was from a man who hardly knows a daisy from a dandelion to a professed botanist... i cannot remember what papers have given me the impression, but i have that, which you state to be the case, firmly fixed on my mind, namely, the little chemical importance of the soil to its vegetation. what a strong fact it is, as r. brown once remarked to me, of certain plants being calcareous ones here, which are not so under a more favourable climate on the continent, or the reverse, for i forget which; but you, no doubt, will know to what i refer. by-the-way, there are some such cases in herbert's paper in the 'horticultural journal.' ('journal of the horticultural society,' .) have you read it: it struck me as extremely original, and bears directly on your present researches. (sir j.d. hooker was at this time attending to polymorphism, variability, etc.) to a non-botanist the chalk has the most peculiar aspect of any flora in england; why will you not come here to make your observations? we go to southampton, if my courage and stomach do not fail, for the brit. assoc. (do you not consider it your duty to be there?) and why cannot you come here afterward and work?... the monograph of the cirripedia, october to october . [writing to sir j.d. hooker in , my father says: "i hope this next summer to finish my south american geology, then to get out a little zoology, and hurrah for my species work..." this passage serves to show that he had at this time no intention of making an exhaustive study of the cirripedes. indeed it would seem that his original intention was, as i learn from sir j.d. hooker, merely to work out one special problem. this is quite in keeping with the following passage in the autobiography: "when on the coast of chile, i found a most curious form, which burrowed into the shells of concholepas, and which differed so much from all other cirripedes that i had to form a new sub-order for its sole reception...to understand the structure of my new cirripede i had to examine and dissect many of the common forms; and this gradually led me on to take up the whole group." in later years he seems to have felt some doubt as to the value of these eight years of work,--for instance when he wrote in his autobiography--"my work was of considerable use to me, when i had to discuss in the 'origin of species,' the principles of a natural classification. nevertheless i doubt whether the work was worth the consumption of so much time." yet i learn from sir j.d. hooker that he certainly recognised at the time its value to himself as systematic training. sir joseph writes to me: "your father recognised three stages in his career as a biologist: the mere collector at cambridge; the collector and observer in the "beagle", and for some years afterwards; and the trained naturalist after, and only after the cirripede work. that he was a thinker all along is true enough, and there is a vast deal in his writings previous to the cirripedes that a trained naturalist could but emulate...he often alluded to it as a valued discipline, and added that even the 'hateful' work of digging out synonyms, and of describing, not only improved his methods but opened his eyes to the difficulties and merits of the works of the dullest of cataloguers. one result was that he would never allow a depreciatory remark to pass unchallenged on the poorest class of scientific workers, provided that their work was honest, and good of its kind. i have always regarded it as one of the finest traits of his character,--this generous appreciation of the hod-men of science, and of their labours...and it was monographing the barnacles that brought it about."] professor huxley allows me to quote his opinion as to the value of the eight years given to the cirripedes:-- "in my opinion your sagacious father never did a wiser thing than when he devoted himself to the years of patient toil which the cirripede-book cost him. "like the rest of us, he had no proper training in biological science, and it has always struck me as a remarkable instance of his scientific insight, that he saw the necessity of giving himself such training, and of his courage, that he did not shirk the labour of obtaining it. "the great danger which besets all men of large speculative faculty, is the temptation to deal with the accepted statements of facts in natural science, as if they were not only correct, but exhaustive; as if they might be dealt with deductively, in the same way as propositions in euclid may be dealt with. in reality, every such statement, however true it may be, is true only relatively to the means of observation and the point of view of those who have enunciated it. so far it may be depended upon. but whether it will bear every speculative conclusion that may be logically deduced from it, is quite another question. "your father was building a vast superstructure upon the foundations furnished by the recognised facts of geological and biological science. in physical geography, in geology proper, in geographical distribution, and in palaeontology, he had acquired an extensive practical training during the voyage of the "beagle". he knew of his own knowledge the way in which the raw materials of these branches of science are acquired, and was therefore a most competent judge of the speculative strain they would bear. that which he needed, after his return to england, was a corresponding acquaintance with anatomy and development, and their relation to taxonomy--and he acquired this by his cirripede work. "thus, in my apprehension, the value of the cirripede monograph lies not merely in the fact that it is a very admirable piece of work, and constituted a great addition to positive knowledge, but still more in the circumstance that it was a piece of critical self-discipline, the effect of which manifested itself in everything your father wrote afterwards, and saved him from endless errors of detail. "so far from such work being a loss of time, i believe it would have been well worth his while, had it been practicable, to have supplemented it by a special study of embryology and physiology. his hands would have been greatly strengthened thereby when he came to write out sundry chapters of the 'origin of species.' but of course in those days it was almost impossible for him to find facilities for such work." no one can look a the two volumes on the recent cirripedes, of and pages respectively (not to speak of the volumes on the fossil species), without being struck by the immense amount of detailed work which they contain. the forty plates, some of them with thirty figures, and the fourteen pages of index in the two volumes together, give some rough idea of the labour spent on the work. (the reader unacquainted with zoology will find some account of the more interesting results in mr. romanes' article on "charles darwin" ('nature' series, ).) the state of knowledge, as regards the cirripedes, was most unsatisfactory at the time that my father began to work at them. as an illustration of this fact, it may be mentioned that he had even to re-organise the nomenclature of the group, or, as he expressed it, he "unwillingly found it indispensable to give names to several valves, and to some few of the softer parts of cirripedes." (vol. i. page .) it is interesting to learn from his diary the amount of time which he gave to different genera. thus the genus chthamalus, the description of which occupies twenty-two pages, occupied him for thirty-six days; coronula took nineteen days, and is described in twenty-seven pages. writing to fitz-roy, he speaks of being "for the last half-month daily hard at work in dissecting a little animal about the size of a pin's head, from the chonos archipelago, and i could spend another month, and daily see more beautiful structure." though he became excessively weary of the work before the end of the eight years, he had much keen enjoyment in the course of it. thus he wrote to sir j.d. hooker ( ?):--"as you say, there is an extraordinary pleasure in pure observation; not but what i suspect the pleasure in this case is rather derived from comparisons forming in one's mind with allied structures. after having been so long employed in writing my old geological observations, it is delightful to use one's eyes and fingers again." it was, in fact, a return to the work which occupied so much of his time when at sea during his voyage. his zoological notes of that period give an impression of vigorous work, hampered by ignorance and want of appliances. and his untiring industry in the dissection of marine animals, especially of crustacea, must have been of value to him as training for his cirripede work. most of his work was done with the simple dissecting microscope--but it was the need which he found for higher powers that induced him, in , to buy a compound microscope. he wrote to hooker:--"when i was drawing with l., i was so delighted with the appearance of the objects, especially with their perspective, as seen through the weak powers of a good compound microscope, that i am going to order one; indeed, i often have structures in which the / is not power enough." during part of the time covered by the present chapter, my father suffered perhaps more from ill-health than at any other time of his life. he felt severely the depressing influence of these long years of illness; thus as early as he wrote to fox: "i am grown a dull, old, spiritless dog to what i used to be. one gets stupider as one grows older i think." it is not wonderful that he should so have written, it is rather to be wondered at that his spirit withstood so great and constant a strain. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker in : "you are very kind in your enquiries about my health; i have nothing to say about it, being always much the same, some days better and some worse. i believe i have not had one whole day, or rather night, without my stomach having been greatly disordered, during the last three years, and most days great prostration of strength: thank you for your kindness; many of my friends, i believe, think me a hypochondriac." again, in , he notes in his diary:--"january st to march th.--health very bad, with much sickness and failure of power. worked on all well days." this was written just before his first visit to dr. gully's water-cure establishment at malvern. in april of the same year he wrote:--"i believe i am going on very well, but i am rather weary of my present inactive life, and the water-cure has the most extraordinary effect in producing indolence and stagnation of mind: till experiencing it, i could not have believed it possible. i now increase in weight, have escaped sickness for thirty days." he returned in june, after sixteen weeks' absence, much improved in health, and, as already described, continued the water-cure at home for some time.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [october, ]. my dear hooker, i have not heard from sulivan (admiral sir b.j. sulivan, formerly an officer of the "beagle".) lately; when he last wrote he named from th to th as the most likely time. immediately that i hear, i will fly you a line, for the chance of your being able to come. i forget whether you know him, but i suppose so; he is a real good fellow. anyhow, if you do not come then, i am very glad that you propose coming soon after... i am going to begin some papers on the lower marine animals, which will last me some months, perhaps a year, and then i shall begin looking over my ten-year-long accumulation of notes on species and varieties, which, with writing, i dare say will take me five years, and then, when published, i dare say i shall stand infinitely low in the opinion of all sound naturalists--so this is my prospect for the future. are you a good hand at inventing names. i have a quite new and curious genus of barnacle, which i want to name, and how to invent a name completely puzzles me. by the way, i have told you nothing about southampton. we enjoyed (wife and myself) our week beyond measure: the papers were all dull, but i met so many friends and made so many new acquaintances (especially some of the irish naturalists), and took so many pleasant excursions. i wish you had been there. on sunday we had so pleasant an excursion to winchester with falconer (hugh falconer, - . chiefly known as a palaeontologist, although employed as a botanist during his whole career in india, where he was also a medical officer in the h.e.i.c. service; he was superintendent of the company's garden, first at saharunpore, and then at calcutta. he was one of the first botanical explorers of kashmir. falconer's discoveries of miocene mammalian remains in the sewalik hills, were, at the time, perhaps the greatest "finds" which had been made. his book on the subject, 'fauna antiqua sivalensis,' remained unfinished at the time of his death.), colonel sabine (the late sir edward sabine, formerly president of the royal society, and author of a long series of memoirs on terrestrial magnetism.), and dr. robinson (the late dr. thomas romney robinson, of the armagh observatory.), and others. i never enjoyed a day more in my life. i missed having a look at h. watson. (the late hewett cottrell watson, author of the 'cybele britannica,' one of a most valuable series of works on the topography and geographical distribution of the plants of the british islands.) i suppose you heard that he met forbes and told him he had a severe article in the press. i understood that forbes explained to him that he had no cause to complain, but as the article was printed, he would not withdraw it, but offered it to forbes for him to append notes to it, which forbes naturally declined... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ?]. my dear hooker, i should have written before now, had i not been almost continually unwell, and at present i am suffering from four boils and swellings, one of which hardly allows me the use of my right arm, and has stopped all my work, and damped all my spirits. i was much disappointed at missing my trip to kew, and the more so, as i had forgotten you would be away all this month; but i had no choice, and was in bed nearly all friday and saturday. i congratulate you over your improved prospects about india (sir j. hooker left england on november , , for his himalayan and tibetan journey. the expedition was supported by a small grant from the treasury, and thus assumed the character of a government mission.), but at the same time must sincerely groan over it. i shall feel quite lost without you to discuss many points with, and to point out (ill-luck to you) difficulties and objections to my species hypotheses. it will be a horrid shame if money stops your expedition; but government will surely help you to some extent...your present trip, with your new views, amongst the coal-plants, will be very interesting. if you have spare time, but not without, i should enjoy having some news of your progress. your present trip will work well in, if you go to any of the coal districts in india. would this not be a good object to parade before government; the utilitarian souls would comprehend this. by the way, i will get some work out of you, about the domestic races of animals in india... charles darwin to l. jenyns (blomefield). down [ ]. dear jenyns, ("this letter relates to a small almanack first published in , under the name of 'the naturalists' pocket almanack,' by mr. van voorst, and which i edited for him. it was intended especially for those who interest themselves in the periodic phenomena of animals and plants, of which a select list was given under each month of the year. "the pocket almanack contained, moreover, miscellaneous information relating to zoology and botany; to natural history and other scientific societies; to public museums and gardens, in addition to the ordinary celestial phenomena found in most other almanacks. it continued to be issued till , after which year the publication was abandoned."--from a letter from rev. l. blomefield to f. darwin.) i am very much obliged for the capital little almanack; it so happened that i was wishing for one to keep in my portfolio. i had never seen this kind before, and shall certainly get one for the future. i think it is very amusing to have a list before one's eyes of the order of appearance of the plants and animals around one; it gives a fresh interest to each fine day. there is one point i should like to see a little improved, viz., the correction for the clock at shorter intervals. most people, i suspect, who like myself have dials, will wish to be more precise than with a margin of three minutes. i always buy a shilling almanack for this sole end. by the way, yours, i.e., van voorst's almanack, is very dear; it ought, at least, to be advertised post-free for the shilling. do you not think a table (not rules) of conversion of french into english measures, and perhaps weights, would be exceedingly useful; also centigrade into fahrenheit,--magnifying powers according to focal distances?--in fact you might make it the more useful publication of the age. i know what i should like best of all, namely, current meteorological remarks for each month, with statement of average course of winds and prediction of weather, in accordance with movements of barometer. people, i think, are always amused at knowing the extremes and means of temperature for corresponding times in other years. i hope you will go on with it another year. with many thanks, my dear jenyns, yours very truly, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, sunday [april th, ]. my dear hooker, i return with many thanks watson's letter, which i have had copied. it is a capital one, and i am extremely obliged to you for obtaining me such valuable information. surely he is rather in a hurry when he says intermediate varieties must almost be necessarily rare, otherwise they would be taken as the types of the species; for he overlooks numerical frequency as an element. surely if a, b, c were three varieties, and if a were a good deal the commonest (therefore, also, first known), it would be taken as the type, without regarding whether b was quite intermediate or not, or whether it was rare or not. what capital essays w would write; but i suppose he has written a good deal in the 'phytologist.' you ought to encourage him to publish on variation; it is a shame that such facts as those in his letter should remain unpublished. i must get you to introduce me to him; would he be a good and sociable man for dropmore? (a much enjoyed expedition made from oxford--when the british association met there in .) though if he comes, forbes must not (and i think you talked of inviting forbes), or we shall have a glorious battle. i should like to see sometime the war correspondence. have you the 'phytologist,' and could you sometime spare it? i would go through it quickly...i have read your last five numbers (of the botany of hooker's 'antarctic voyage.'), and as usual have been much interested in several points, especially with your discussions on the beech and potato. i see you have introduced several sentences against us transmutationists. i have also been looking through the latter volumes of the 'annals of natural history,' and have read two such soulless, pompous papers of --, quite worthy of the author...the contrast of the papers in the "annals" with those in the "annales" is rather humiliating; so many papers in the former, with short descriptions of species, without one word on their affinities, internal structure, range or habits. i am now reading --, and i have picked out some things which have interested me; but he strikes me as rather dullish, and with all his materia medica smells of the doctor's shop. i shall ever hate the name of the materia medica, since hearing duncan's lectures at eight o'clock on a winter's morning--a whole, cold breakfastless hour on the properties of rhubarb! i hope your journey will be very prosperous. believe me, my dear hooker, ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--i think i have only made one new acquaintance of late, that is r. chambers; and i have just received a presentation copy of the sixth edition of the 'vestiges.' somehow i now feel perfectly convinced he is the author. he is in france, and has written to me thence. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [ ?]. ...i am delighted to hear that brongniart thought sigillaria aquatic, and that binney considers coal a sort of submarine peat. i would bet to that in twenty years this will be generally admitted (an unfulfilled prophecy.); and i do not care for whatever the botanical difficulties or impossibilities may be. if i could but persuade myself that sigillaria and co. had a good range of depth, i.e., could live from to fathoms under water, all difficulties of nearly all kinds would be removed (for the simple fact of muddy ordinary shallow sea implies proximity of land). [n.b.--i am chuckling to think how you are sneering all this time.] it is not much of a difficulty, there not being shells with the coal, considering how unfavourable deep mud is for most mollusca, and that shells would probably decay from the humic acid, as seems to take place in peat and in the black moulds (as lyell tells me) of the mississippi. so coal question settled--q.e.d. sneer away! many thanks for your welcome note from cambridge, and i am glad you like my alma mater, which i despise heartily as a place of education, but love from many most pleasant recollections... thanks for your offer of the 'phytologist;' i shall be very much obliged for it, for i do not suppose i should be able to borrow it from any other quarter. i will not be set up too much by your praise, but i do not believe i ever lost a book or forgot to return it during a long lapse of time. your 'webb' is well wrapped up, and with your name in large letters outside. my new microscope is come home (a "splendid plaything," as old r. brown called it), and i am delighted with it; it really is a splendid plaything. i have been in london for three days, and saw many of our friends. i was extremely sorry to hear a not very good account of sir william. farewell, my dear hooker, and be a good boy, and make sigillaria a submarine sea-weed. ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [may th, ]. my dear hooker, you have made a savage onslaught, and i must try to defend myself. but, first, let me say that i never write to you except for my own good pleasure; now i fear that you answer me when busy and without inclination (and i am sure i should have none if i was as busy as you). pray do not do so, and if i thought my writing entailed an answer from you nolens volens, it would destroy all my pleasure in writing. firstly, i did not consider my letter as reasoning, or even as speculation, but simply as mental rioting; and as i was sending binney's paper, i poured out to you the result of reading it. secondly, you are right, indeed, in thinking me mad, if you suppose that i would class any ferns as marine plants; but surely there is a wide distinction between the plants found upright in the coal-beds and those not upright, and which might have been drifted. is it not possible that the same circumstances which have preserved the vegetation in situ, should have preserved drifted plants? i know calamites is found upright; but i fancied its affinities were very obscure, like sigillaria. as for lepidodendron, i forgot its existence, as happens when one goes riot, and now know neither what it is, or whether upright. if these plants, i.e. calamites and lepidodendron, have very clear relations to terrestrial vegetables, like the ferns have, and are found upright in situ, of course i must give up the ghost. but surely sigillaria is the main upright plant, and on its obscure affinities i have heard you enlarge. thirdly, it never entered my head to undervalue botanical relatively to zoological evidence; except in so far as i thought it was admitted that the vegetative structure seldom yielded any evidence of affinity nearer than that of families, and not always so much. and is it not in plants, as certainly it is in animals, dangerous to judge of habits without very near affinity. could a botanist tell from structure alone that the mangrove family, almost or quite alone in dicotyledons, could live in the sea, and the zostera family almost alone among the monocotyledons? is it a safe argument, that because algae are almost the only, or the only submerged sea-plants, that formerly other groups had not members with such habits? with animals such an argument would not be conclusive, as i could illustrate by many examples; but i am forgetting myself; i want only to some degree to defend myself, and not burn my fingers by attacking you. the foundation of my letter, and what is my deliberate opinion, though i dare say you will think it absurd, is that i would rather trust, caeteris paribus, pure geological evidence than either zoological or botanical evidence. i do not say that i would sooner trust poor geological evidence than good organic. i think the basis of pure geological reasoning is simpler (consisting chiefly of the action of water on the crust of the earth, and its up and down movements) than a basis drawn from the difficult subject of affinities and of structure in relation to habits. i can hardly analyze the facts on which i have come to this conclusion; but i can illustrate it. pallas's account would lead any one to suppose that the siberian strata, with the frozen carcasses, had been quickly deposited, and hence that the embedded animals had lived in the neighbourhood; but our zoological knowledge of thirty years ago led every one falsely to reject this conclusion. tell me that an upright fern in situ occurs with sigillaria and stigmaria, or that the affinities of calamites and lepidodendron (supposing that they are found in situ with sigillaria) are so clear, that they could not have been marine, like, but in a greater degree, than the mangrove and sea-wrack, and i will humbly apologise to you and all botanists for having let my mind run riot on a subject on which assuredly i know nothing. but till i hear this, i shall keep privately to my own opinion with the same pertinacity and, as you will think, with the same philosophical spirit with which koenig maintains that cheirotherium-footsteps are fuci. whether this letter will sink me lower in your opinion, or put me a little right, i know not, but hope the latter. anyhow, i have revenged myself with boring you with a very long epistle. farewell, and be forgiving. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--when will you return to kew? i have forgotten one main object of my letter, to thank you much for your offer of the 'hort. journal,' but i have ordered the two numbers. [the two following extracts [ ] give the continuation and conclusion of the coal battle. "by the way, as submarine coal made you so wrath, i thought i would experimentise on falconer and bunbury (the late sir c. bunbury, well-known as a palaeobotanist.) together, and it made [them] even more savage; 'such infernal nonsense ought to be thrashed out of me.' bunbury was more polite and contemptuous. so i now know how to stir up and show off any botanist. i wonder whether zoologists and geologists have got their tender points; i wish i could find out." "i cannot resist thanking you for your most kind note. pray do not think that i was annoyed by your letter: i perceived that you had been thinking with animation, and accordingly expressed yourself strongly, and so i understood it. forfend me from a man who weighs every expression with scotch prudence. i heartily wish you all success in your noble problem, and i shall be very curious to have some talk with you and hear your ultimatum."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. (parts of two letters.) down [october, ]. i congratulate you heartily on your arrangements being completed, with some prospect for the future. it will be a noble voyage and journey, but i wish it was over, i shall miss you selfishly and all ways to a dreadful extent ...i am in great perplexity how we are to meet...i can well understand how dreadfully busy you must be. if you cannot come here, you must let me come to you for a night; for i must have one more chat and one more quarrel with you over the coal. by the way, i endeavoured to stir up lyell (who has been staying here some days with me) to theorise on the coal: his oolitic upright equisetums are dreadful for my submarine flora. i should die much easier if some one would solve me the coal question. i sometimes think it could not have been formed at all. old sir anthony carlisle once said to me gravely, that he supposed megatherium and such cattle were just sent down from heaven to see whether the earth would support them; and i suppose the coal was rained down to puzzle mortals. you must work the coal well in india. ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [november th, .] my dear hooker, i have just received your note with sincere grief: there is no help for it. i shall always look at your intention of coming here, under such circumstances, as the greatest proof of friendship i ever received from mortal man. my conscience would have upbraided me in not having come to you on thursday, but, as it turned out, i could not, for i was quite unable to leave shrewsbury before that day, and i reached home only last night, much knocked up. without i hear to-morrow (which is hardly possible), and if i am feeling pretty well, i will drive over to kew on monday morning, just to say farewell. i will stay only an hour... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [november, .] my dear hooker, i am very unwell, and incapable of doing anything. i do hope i have not inconvenienced you. i was so unwell all yesterday, that i was rejoicing you were not here; for it would have been a bitter mortification to me to have had you here and not enjoyed your last day. i shall not now see you. farewell, and god bless you. your affectionate friend, c. darwin. i will write to you in india. [in appeared a paper by mr. d. milne (now mr. milne home. the essay was published in transactions of the edinburgh royal society, vol. xvi.), in which my father's glen roy work is criticised, and which is referred to in the following characteristic extract from a letter to sir j. hooker:] "i have been bad enough for these few last days, having had to think and write too much about glen roy...mr. milne having attacked my theory, which made me horribly sick." i have not been able to find any published reply to mr. milne, so that i imagine the "writing" mentioned was confined to letters. mr. milne's paper was not destructive to the glen roy paper, and this my father recognises in the following extract from a letter to lyell (march, ). the reference to chambers is explained by the fact that he accompanied mr. milne in his visit to glen roy. "i got r. chambers to give me a sketch of milne's glen roy views, and i have re-read my paper, and am, now that i have heard what is to be said, not even staggered. it is provoking and humiliating to find that chambers not only had not read with any care my paper on this subject, or even looked at the coloured map, so that the new shelf described by me had not been searched for, and my arguments and facts of detail not in the least attended to. i entirely gave up the ghost, and was quite chicken-hearted at the geological society, till you reassured and reminded me of the main facts in the whole case." the two following letters to lyell, though of later date (june, ), bear on the same subject:-- "i was at the evening meeting [of the geological society], but did not get within hail of you. what a fool (though i must say a very amusing one) -- did make of himself. your speech was refreshing after it, and was well characterized by fox (my cousin) in three words--'what a contrast!' that struck me as a capital speculation about the wealden continent going down. i did not hear what you settled at the council; i was quite wearied out and bewildered. i find smith, of jordan hill, has a much worse opinion of r. chambers's book than even i have. chambers has piqued me a little ('ancient sea margins, .' the words quoted by my father should be "the mobility of the land was an ascendant idea."); he says i 'propound' and 'profess my belief' that glen roy is marine, and that the idea was accepted because the 'mobility of the land was the ascendant idea of the day.' he adds some very faint upper lines in glen spean (seen, by the way, by agassiz), and has shown that milne and kemp are right in there being horizontal aqueous markings (not at coincident levels with those of glen roy) in other parts of scotland at great heights, and he adds several other cases. this is the whole of his addition to the data. he not only takes my line of argument from the buttresses and terraces below the lower shelf and some other arguments (without acknowledgment), but he sneers at all his predecessors not having perceived the importance of the short portions of lines intermediate between the chief ones in glen roy; whereas i commence the description of them with saying, that 'perceiving their importance, i examined them with scrupulous care,' and expatiate at considerable length on them. i have indirectly told him i do not think he has quite claims to consider that he alone (which he pretty directly asserts) has solved the problem of glen roy. with respect to the terraces at lower levels coincident in height all round scotland and england, i am inclined to believe he shows some little probability of there being some leading ones coincident, but much more exact evidence is required. would you believe it credible? he advances as a probable solution to account for the rise of great britain that in some great ocean one-twentieth of the bottom of the whole aqueous surface of the globe has sunk in (he does not say where he puts it) for a thickness of half a mile, and this he has calculated would make an apparent rise of feet." charles darwin to c. lyell. down [june, ]. my dear lyell, out of justice to chambers i must trouble you with one line to say, as far as i am personally concerned in glen roy, he has made the amende honorable, and pleads guilty through inadvertency of taking my two lines of arguments and facts without acknowledgment. he concluded by saying he "came to the same point by an independent course of inquiry, which in a small degree excuses this inadvertency." his letter altogether shows a very good disposition, and says he is "much gratified with the measured approbation which you bestow, etc." i am heartily glad i was able to say in truth that i thought he had done good service in calling more attention to the subject of the terraces. he protests it is unfair to call the sinking of the sea his theory, for that he with care always speaks of mere change of level, and this is quite true; but the one section in which he shows how he conceives the sea might sink is so astonishing, that i believe it will with others, as with me, more than counterbalance his previous caution. i hope that you may think better of the book than i do. yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. october th, . ...i have lately been trying to get up an agitation (but i shall not succeed, and indeed doubt whether i have time and strength to go on with it), against the practice of naturalists appending for perpetuity the name of the first describer to species. i look at this as a direct premium to hasty work, to naming instead of describing. a species ought to have a name so well known that the addition of the author's name would be superfluous, and a [piece] of empty vanity. (his contempt for the self-regarding spirit in a naturalist is illustrated by an anecdote, for which i am indebted to rev. l. blomefield. after speaking of my father's love of entomology at cambridge, mr. blomefield continues:--"he occasionally came over from cambridge to my vicarage at swaffham bulbeck, and we went out together to collect insects in the woods at bottisham hall, close at hand, or made longer excursions in the fens. on one occasion he captured in a large bag net, with which he used vigorously to sweep the weeds and long grass, a rare coleopterous insect, one of the lepturidae, which i myself had never taken in cambridgeshire. he was pleased with his capture, and of course carried it home in triumph. some years afterwards, the voyage of the 'beagle' having been made in the interim, talking over old times with him, i reverted to this circumstance, and asked if he remembered it. 'oh, yes,' (he said,) 'i remember it well; and i was selfish enough to keep the specimen, when you were collecting materials for a fauna of cambridgeshire, and for a local museum in the philosophical society.' he followed this up with some remarks on the pettiness of collectors, who aimed at nothing beyond filling their cabinets with rare things.") at present, it would not do to give mere specific names; but i think zoologists might open the road to the omission, by referring to good systematic writers instead of to first describers. botany, i fancy, has not suffered so much as zoology from mere naming; the characters, fortunately, are more obscure. have you ever thought on this point? why should naturalists append their own names to new species, when mineralogists and chemists do not do so to new substances? when you write to falconer pray remember me affectionately to him. i grieve most sincerely to hear that he has been ill, my dear hooker, god bless you, and fare you well. your sincere friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to hugh strickland. (hugh edwin strickland, m.a., f.r.s., was born nd of march, , and educated at rugby, under arnold, and at oriel college, oxford. in and he travelled through europe to the levant with w.j. hamilton, the geologist, wintering in asia minor. in he brought the subject of natural history nomenclature before the british association, and prepared the code of rules for zoological nomenclature, now known by his name--the principles of which are very generally adopted. in he was one of the founders (if not the original projector) of the ray society. in he married the second daughter of sir william jardine, bart. in he was appointed, in consequence of buckland's illness, deputy reader in geology at oxford. his promising career was suddenly cut short on september , , when, while geologizing in a railway cutting between retford and gainsborough, he was run over by a train and instantly killed. a memoir of him and a reprint of his principal contributions to journals was published by sir william jardine in ; but he was also the author of 'the dodo and its kindred' ( ); 'bibliographia zoologiae' (the latter in conjunction with louis agassiz, and issued by the ray society); 'ornithological synonyms' (one volume only published, and that posthumously). a catalogue of his ornithological collection, given by his widow to the university of cambridge, was compiled by mr. salvin, and published in . (i am indebted to prof. newton for the above note.)) down, january th [ ]. ...what a labour you have undertaken; i do honour your devoted zeal in the good cause of natural science. do you happen to have a spare copy of the nomenclature rules published in the 'british association transactions?' if you have, and would give it to me, i should be truly obliged, for i grudge buying the volume for it. i have found the rules very useful, it is quite a comfort to have something to rest on in the turbulent ocean of nomenclature (and am accordingly grateful to you), though i find it very difficult to obey always. here is a case (and i think it should have been noticed in the rules), coronula, cineras and otion, are names adopted by cuvier, lamarck, owen, and almost every well-known writer, but i find that all three names were anticipated by a german: now i believe if i were to follow the strict rule of priority, more harm would be done than good, and more especially as i feel sure that the newly fished-up names would not be adopted. i have almost made up my mind to reject the rule of priority in this case; would you grudge the trouble to send me your opinion? i have been led of late to reflect much on the subject of naming, and i have come to a fixed opinion that the plan of the first describer's name, being appended for perpetuity to a species, had been the greatest curse to natural history. some months since, i wrote out the enclosed badly drawn-up paper, thinking that perhaps i would agitate the subject; but the fit has passed, and i do not suppose i ever shall; i send it you for the chance of your caring to see my notions. i have been surprised to find in conversation that several naturalists were of nearly my way of thinking. i feel sure as long as species-mongers have their vanity tickled by seeing their own names appended to a species, because they miserably described it in two or three lines, we shall have the same vast amount of bad work as at present, and which is enough to dishearten any man who is willing to work out any branch with care and time. i find every genus of cirripedia has half-a-dozen names, and not one careful description of any one species in any one genus. i do not believe that this would have been the case if each man knew that the memory of his own name depended on his doing his work well, and not upon merely appending a name with a few wretched lines indicating only a few prominent external characters. but i will not weary you with any longer tirade. read my paper or not, just as you like, and return it whenever you please. yours most sincerely, c. darwin. hugh strickland to charles darwin. the lodge, tewkesbury, january st, . ...i have next to notice your second objection--that retaining the name of the first describer in perpetuum along with that of the species, is a premium on hasty and careless work. this is quite a different question from that of the law of priority itself, and it never occurred to me before, though it seems highly probable that the general recognition of that law may produce such a result. we must try to counteract this evil in some other way. the object of appending the name of a man to the name of a species is not to gratify the vanity of the man, but to indicate more precisely the species. sometimes two men will, by accident, give the same name (independently) to two species of the same genus. more frequently a later author will misapply the specific name of an older one. thus the helix putris of montagu is not h. putris of linnaeus, though montague supposed it to be so. in such a case we cannot define the species by helix putris alone, but must append the name of the author whom we quote. but when a species has never borne but one name (as corvus frugilegus), and no other species of corvus has borne the same name, it is, of course, unnecessary to add the author's name. yet even here i like the form corvus frugilegus, linn., as it reminds us that this is one of the old species, long known, and to be found in the 'systema naturae,' etc. i fear, therefore, that (at least until our nomenclature is more definitely settled) it will be impossible to indicate species with scientific accuracy, without adding the name of their first author. you may, indeed, do it as you propose, by saying in lam. an. invert., etc., but then this would be incompatible with the law of priority, for where lamarck has violated that low, one cannot adopt his name. it is, nevertheless, highly conducive to accurate indication to append to the (oldest) specific name one good reference to a standard work, especially to a figure, with an accompanying synonym if necessary. this method may be cumbrous, but cumbrousness is a far less evil than uncertainty. it, moreover, seems hardly possible to carry out the priority principle, without the historical aid afforded by appending the author's name to the specific one. if i, a priority man, called a species c.d., it implies that c.d. is the oldest name that i know of; but in order that you and others may judge of the propriety of that name, you must ascertain when, and by whom, the name was first coined. now, if to the specific name c.d., i append the name a.b., of its first describer, i at once furnish you with the clue to the dates when, and the book in which, this description was given, and i thus assist you in determining whether c.d. be really the oldest, and therefore the correct, designation. i do, however, admit that the priority principle (excellent as it is) has a tendency, when the author's name is added, to encourage vanity and slovenly work. i think, however, that much might be done to discourage those obscure and unsatisfactory definitions of which you so justly complain, by writing down the practice. let the better disposed naturalists combine to make a formal protest against all vague, loose, and inadequate definitions of (supposed) new species. let a committee (say of the british association) be appointed to prepare a sort of class list of the various modern works in which new species are described, arranged in order of merit. the lowest class would contain the worst examples of the kind, and their authors would thus be exposed to the obloquy which they deserve, and be gibbeted in terrorem for the edification of those who may come after. i have thus candidly stated my views (i hope intelligibly) of what seems best to be done in the present transitional and dangerous state of systematic zoology. innumerable labourers, many of them crotchety and half-educated, are rushing into the field, and it depends, i think, on the present generation whether the science is to descend to posterity a chaotic mass, or possessed of some traces of law and organisation. if we could only get a congress of deputies from the chief scientific bodies of europe and america, something might be done, but, as the case stands, i confess i do not clearly see my way, beyond humbly endeavouring to reform number one. yours ever, h.e. strickland. charles darwin to hugh strickland. down, sunday [february th, ]. my dear strickland, i am, in truth, greatly obliged to you for your long, most interesting, and clear letter, and the report. i will consider your arguments, which are of the greatest weight, but i confess i cannot yet bring myself to reject very well-known names, not in one country, but over the world, for obscure ones,--simply on the ground that i do not believe i should be followed. pray believe that i should break the law of priority only in rare cases; will you read the enclosed (and return it), and tell me whether it does not stagger you? (n.b. i promise that i will not give you any more trouble.) i want simple answers, and not for you to waste your time in reasons; i am curious for your answer in regard to balanus. i put the case of otion, etc., to w. thompson, who is fierce for the law of priority, and he gave it up in such well-known names. i am in a perfect maze of doubt on nomenclature. in not one large genus of cirripedia has any one species been correctly defined; it is pure guesswork (being guided by range and commonness and habits) to recognise any species: thus i can make out, from plates or descriptions, hardly any of the british sessile cirripedes. i cannot bear to give new names to all the species, and yet i shall perhaps do wrong to attach old names by little better than guess; i cannot at present tell the least which of two species all writers have meant by the common anatifera laevis; i have, therefore, given that name to the one which is rather the commonest. literally, not one species is properly defined; not one naturalist has ever taken the trouble to open the shell of any species to describe it scientifically, and yet all the genera have half-a-dozen synonyms. for argument's sake, suppose i do my work thoroughly well, any one who happens to have the original specimens named, i will say by chenu, who has figured and named hundreds of species, will be able to upset all my names according to the law of priority (for he may maintain his descriptions are sufficient), do you think it advantageous to science that this should be done: i think not, and that convenience and high merit (here put as mere argument) had better come into some play. the subject is heart-breaking. i hope you will occasionally turn in your mind my argument of the evil done by the "mihi" attached to specific names; i can most clearly see the excessive evil it has caused; in mineralogy i have myself found there is no rage to merely name; a person does not take up the subject without he intends to work it out, as he knows that his only claim to merit rests on his work being ably done, and has no relation whatever to naming. i give up one point, and grant that reference to first describer's name should be given in all systematic works, but i think something would be gained if a reference was given without the author's name being actually appended as part of the binomial name, and i think, except in systematic works, a reference, such as i propose, would damp vanity much. i think a very wrong spirit runs through all natural history, as if some merit was due to a man for merely naming and defining a species; i think scarcely any, or none, is due; if he works out minutely and anatomically any one species, or systematically a whole group, credit is due, but i must think the mere defining a species is nothing, and that no injustice is done him if it be overlooked, though a great inconvenience to natural history is thus caused. i do not think more credit is due to a man for defining a species, than to a carpenter for making a box. but i am foolish and rabid against species-mongers, or rather against their vanity; it is useful and necessary work which must be done; but they act as if they had actually made the species, and it was their own property. i use agassiz's nomenclator; at least two-thirds of the dates in the cirripedia are grossly wrong. i shall do what i can in fossil cirripedia, and should be very grateful for specimens; but i do not believe that species (and hardly genera) can be defined by single valves; as in every recent species yet examined their forms vary greatly: to describe a species by valves alone, is the same as to describe a crab from small portions of its carapace alone, these portions being highly variable, and not, as in crustacea, modelled over viscera. i sincerely apologise for the trouble which i have given you, but indeed i will give no more. yours most sincerely, c. darwin. p.s.--in conversation i found owen and andrew smith much inclined to throw over the practice of attaching authors' names; i believe if i agitated i could get a large party to join. w. thompson agreed some way with me, but was not prepared to go nearly as far as i am. charles darwin to hugh strickland. down, february th [ ]. my dear strickland, i have again to thank you cordially for your letter. your remarks shall fructify to some extent, and i will try to be more faithful to rigid virtue and priority; but as for calling balanus "lepas" (which i did not think of), i cannot do it, my pen won't write it--it is impossible. i have great hopes some of my difficulties will disappear, owing to wrong dates in agassiz, and to my having to run several genera into one, for i have as yet gone, in but few cases, to original sources. with respect to adopting my own notions in my cirripedia book, i should not like to do so without i found others approved, and in some public way,--nor, indeed, is it well adapted, as i can never recognise a species without i have the original specimen, which, fortunately, i have in many cases in the british museum. thus far i mean to adopt my notion, as never putting mihi or "darwin" after my own species, and in the anatomical text giving no authors' names at all, as the systematic part will serve for those who want to know the history of a species as far as i can imperfectly work it out... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [the lodge, malvern, march th, .] my dear hooker, your letter of the th of october has remained unanswered till this day! what an ungrateful return for a letter which interested me so much, and which contained so much and curious information. but i have had a bad winter. on the th of november, my poor dear father died, and no one who did not know him would believe that a man above eighty-three years old could have retained so tender and affectionate a disposition, with all his sagacity unclouded to the last. i was at the time so unwell, that i was unable to travel, which added to my misery. indeed, all this winter i have been bad enough...and my nervous system began to be affected, so that my hands trembled, and head was often swimming. i was not able to do anything one day out of three, and was altogether too dispirited to write to you, or to do anything but what i was compelled. i thought i was rapidly going the way of all flesh. having heard, accidentally, of two persons who had received much benefit from the water-cure, i got dr. gully's book, and made further enquiries, and at last started here, with wife, children, and all our servants. we have taken a house for two months, and have been here a fortnight. i am already a little stronger...dr. gully feels pretty sure he can do me good, which most certainly the regular doctors could not...i feel certain that the water-cure is no quackery. how i shall enjoy getting back to down with renovated health, if such is to be my good fortune, and resuming the beloved barnacles. now i hope that you will forgive me for my negligence in not having sooner answered your letter. i was uncommonly interested by the sketch you give of your intended grand expedition, from which i suppose you will soon be returning. how earnestly i hope that it may prove in every way successful... [when my father was at the water-cure establishment at malvern he was brought into contact with clairvoyance, of which he writes in the following extract from a letter to fox, september, . "you speak about homoeopathy, which is a subject which makes me more wrath, even than does clairvoyance. clairvoyance so transcends belief, that one's ordinary faculties are put out of the question, but in homoeopathy common sense and common observation come into play, and both these must go to the dogs, if the infinitesimal doses have any effect whatever. how true is a remark i saw the other day by quetelet, in respect to evidence of curative processes, viz., that no one knows in disease what is the simple result of nothing being done, as a standard with which to compare homoeopathy, and all other such things. it is a sad flaw, i cannot but think, in my beloved dr. gully, that he believes in everything. when miss -- was very ill, he had a clairvoyant girl to report on internal changes, a mesmerist to put her to sleep--an homoeopathist, viz. dr. --, and himself as hydropathist! and the girl recovered." a passage out of an earlier letter to fox (december, ) shows that he was equally sceptical on the subject of mesmerism: "with respect to mesmerism, the whole country resounds with wonderful facts or tales..i have just heard of a child, three or four years old (whose parents and self i well knew) mesmerised by his father, which is the first fact which has staggered me. i shall not believe fully till i see or hear from good evidence of animals (as has been stated is possible) not drugged, being put to stupor; of course the impossibility would not prove mesmerism false; but it is the only clear experimentum crucis, and i am astonished it has not been systematically tried. if mesmerism was investigated, like a science, this could not have been left till the present day to be done satisfactorily, as it has been i believe left. keep some cats yourself, and do get some mesmeriser to attempt it. one man told me he had succeeded, but his experiments were most vague, and as was likely from a man who said cats were more easily done than other animals, because they were so electrical!"] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, december th [ ]. my dear lyell, this letter requires no answer, and i write from exuberance of vanity. dana has sent me the geology of the united states expedition, and i have just read the coral part. to begin with a modest speech, i am astonished at my own accuracy!! if i were to rewrite now my coral book there is hardly a sentence i should have to alter, except that i ought to have attributed more effect to recent volcanic action in checking growth of coral. when i say all this i ought to add that the consequences of the theory on areas of subsidence are treated in a separate chapter to which i have not come, and in this, i suspect, we shall differ more. dana talks of agreeing with my theory in most points; i can find out not one in which he differs. considering how infinitely more he saw of coral reefs than i did, this is wonderfully satisfactory to me. he treats me most courteously. there now, my vanity is pretty well satisfied... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. malvern, april th, . my dear hooker, the very next morning after posting my last letter (i think on rd of march), i received your two interesting gossipaceous and geological letters; and the latter i have since exchanged with lyell for his. i will write higglety-pigglety just as subjects occur. i saw the review in the 'athenaeum,' it was written in an ill-natured spirit; but the whole virus consisted in saying that there was not novelty enough in your remarks for publication. no one, nowadays, cares for reviews. i may just mention that my journal got some real good abuse, "presumption," etc.,--ended with saying that the volume appeared "made up of the scraps and rubbish of the author's portfolio." i most truly enter into what you say, and quite believe you that you care only for the review with respect to your father; and that this alone would make you like to see extracts from your letters more properly noticed in this same periodical. i have considered to the very best of my judgment whether any portion of your present letters are adapted for the 'athenaeum' (in which i have no interest; the beasts not having even noticed my three geological volumes which i had sent to them), and i have come to the conclusion it is better not to send them. i feel sure, considering all the circumstances, that without you took pains and wrote with care, a condensed and finished sketch of some striking feature in your travels, it is better not to send anything. these two letters are, moreover, rather too geological for the 'athenaeum,' and almost require woodcuts. on the other hand, there are hardly enough details for a communication to the geological society. i have not the smallest doubt that your facts are of the highest interest with regard to glacial action in the himalaya; but it struck both lyell and myself that your evidence ought to have been given more distinctly... i have written so lately that i have nothing to say about myself; my health prevented me going on with a crusade against "mihi" and "nobis," of which you warn me of the dangers. i showed my paper to three or four naturalists, and they all agreed with me to a certain extent: with health and vigour, i would not have shown a white feather, [and] with aid of half-a-dozen really good naturalists, i believe something might have been done against the miserable and degrading passion of mere species naming. in your letter you wonder what "ornamental poultry" has to do with barnacles; but do not flatter yourself that i shall not yet live to finish the barnacles, and then make a fool of myself on the subject of species, under which head ornamental poultry are very interesting... charles darwin to c. lyell. the lodge, malvern [june, ]. ...i have got your book ('a second visit to the united states.'), and have read all the first and a small part of the second volume (reading is the hardest work allowed here), and greatly i have been interested by it. it makes me long to be a yankee. e. desires me to say that she quite "gloated" over the truth of your remarks on religious progress...i delight to think how you will disgust some of the bigots and educational dons. as yet there has not been much geology or natural history, for which i hope you feel a little ashamed. your remarks on all social subjects strike me as worthy of the author of the 'principles.' and yet (i know it is prejudice and pride) if i had written the principles, i never would have written any travels; but i believe i am more jealous about the honour and glory of the principles than you are yourself... charles darwin to c. lyell. september th, . ...i go on with my aqueous processes, and very steadily but slowly gain health and strength. against all rules, i dined at chevening with lord mahon, who did me the great honour of calling on me, and how he heard of me i can't guess. i was charmed with lady mahon, and any one might have been proud at the pieces of agreeableness which came from her beautiful lips with respect to you. i like old lord stanhope very much; though he abused geology and zoology heartily. "to suppose that the omnipotent god made a world, found it a failure, and broke it up, and then made it again, and again broke it up, as the geologists say, is all fiddle faddle. describing species of birds and shells, etc., is all fiddle faddle..." i am heartily glad we shall meet at birmingham, as i trust we shall, if my health will but keep up. i work now every day at the cirripedia for / hours, and so get on a little, but very slowly. i sometimes, after being a whole week employed and having described perhaps only two species, agree mentally with lord stanhope, that it is all fiddle faddle; however, the other day i got a curious case of a unisexual, instead of hermaphrodite cirripede, in which the female had the common cirripedial character, and in two valves of her shell had two little pockets, in each of which she kept a little husband; i do not know of any other case where a female invariably has two husbands. i have one still odder fact, common to several species, namely, that though they are hermaphrodite, they have small additional, or as i shall call them, complemental males, one specimen itself hermaphrodite had no less than seven, of these complemental males attached to it. truly the schemes and wonders of nature are illimitable. but i am running on as badly about my cirripedia as about geology; it makes me groan to think that probably i shall never again have the exquisite pleasure of making out some new district, of evolving geological light out of some troubled dark region. so i must make the best of my cirripedia... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, october th, . ...by the way, one of the pleasantest parts of the british association was my journey down to birmingham with mrs. sabine, mrs. reeve, and the colonel; also col. sykes and porter. mrs. sabine and myself agreed wonderfully on many points, and in none more sincerely than about you. we spoke about your letters from the erebus; and she quite agreed with me, that you and the author (sir j. hooker wrote the spirited description of cattle hunting in sir j. ross's 'voyage of discovery in the southern regions,' , vol. ii., page .), of the description of the cattle hunting in the falklands, would have made a capital book together! a very nice woman she is, and so is her sharp and sagacious mother...birmingham was very flat compared to oxford, though i had my wife with me. we saw a good deal of the lyells and horners and robinsons (the president); but the place was dismal, and i was prevented, by being unwell, from going to warwick, though that, i.e., the party, by all accounts, was wonderfully inferior to blenheim, not to say anything of that heavenly day at dropmore. one gets weary of all the spouting... you ask about my cold-water cure; i am going on very well, and am certainly a little better every month, my nights mend much slower than my days. i have built a douche, and am to go on through all the winter, frost or no frost. my treatment now is lamp five times per week, and shallow bath for five minutes afterwards; douche daily for five minutes, and dripping sheet daily. the treatment is wonderfully tonic, and i have had more better consecutive days this month than on any previous ones...i am allowed to work now two and a half hours daily, and i find it as much as i can do, for the cold-water cure, together with three short walks, is curiously exhausting; and i am actually forced to go to bed at eight o'clock completely tired. i steadily gain in weight, and eat immensely, and am never oppressed with my food. i have lost the involuntary twitching of the muscle, and all the fainting feelings, etc--black spots before eyes, etc. dr. gully thinks he shall quite cure me in six or nine months more. the greatest bore, which i find in the water-cure, is the having been compelled to give up all reading, except the newspapers; for my daily two and a half hours at the barnacles is fully as much as i can do of anything which occupies the mind; i am consequently terribly behind in all scientific books. i have of late been at work at mere species describing, which is much more difficult than i expected, and has much the same sort of interest as a puzzle has; but i confess i often feel wearied with the work, and cannot help sometimes asking myself what is the good of spending a week or fortnight in ascertaining that certain just perceptible differences blend together and constitute varieties and not species. as long as i am on anatomy i never feel myself in that disgusting, horrid, cui bono, inquiring, humour. what miserable work, again, it is searching for priority of names. i have just finished two species, which possess seven generic, and twenty-four specific names! my chief comfort is, that the work must be sometime done, and i may as well do it, as any one else. i have given up my agitation against mihi and nobis; my paper is too long to send to you, so you must see it, if you care to do so, on your return. by-the-way, you say in your letter that you care more for my species work than for the barnacles; now this is too bad of you, for i declare your decided approval of my plain barnacle work over theoretic species work, had very great influence in deciding me to go on with the former, and defer my species paper... [the following letter refers to the death of his little daughter, which took place at malvern on april , :] charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, april th [ ]. my dear fox, i do not suppose you will have heard of our bitter and cruel loss. poor dear little annie, when going on very well at malvern, was taken with a vomiting attack, which was at first thought of the smallest importance; but it rapidly assumed the form of a low and dreadful fever, which carried her off in ten days. thank god, she suffered hardly at all, and expired as tranquilly as a little angel. our only consolation is that she passed a short, though joyous life. she was my favourite child; her cordiality, openness, buoyant joyousness and strong affections made her most lovable. poor dear little soul. well it is all over... charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, march th [ ]. my dear fox, it is indeed an age since we have had any communication, and very glad i was to receive your note. our long silence occurred to me a few weeks since, and i had then thought of writing, but was idle. i congratulate and condole with you on your tenth child; but please to observe when i have a tenth, send only condolences to me. we have now seven children, all well, thank god, as well as their mother; of these seven, five are boys; and my father used to say that it was certain that a boy gave as much trouble as three girls; so that bona fide we have seventeen children. it makes me sick whenever i think of professions; all seem hopelessly bad, and as yet i cannot see a ray of light. i should very much like to talk over this (by the way, my three bugbears are californian and australian gold, beggaring me by making my money on mortgage worth nothing; the french coming by the westerham and sevenoaks roads, and therefore enclosing down; and thirdly, professions for my boys), and i should like to talk about education, on which you ask me what we are doing. no one can more truly despise the old stereotyped stupid classical education than i do; but yet i have not had courage to break through the trammels. after many doubts we have just sent our eldest boy to rugby, where for his age he has been very well placed...i honour, admire, and envy you for educating your boys at home. what on earth shall you do with your boys? towards the end of this month we go to see w. at rugby, and thence for five or six days to susan (his sister.) at shrewsbury; i then return home to look after the babies, and e. goes to f. wedgwood's of etruria for a week. very many thanks for your most kind and large invitation to delamere, but i fear we can hardly compass it. i dread going anywhere, on account of my stomach so easily failing under any excitement. i rarely even now go to london; not that i am at all worse, perhaps rather better, and lead a very comfortable life with my three hours of daily work, but it is the life of a hermit. my nights are always bad, and that stops my becoming vigorous. you ask about water-cure. i take at intervals of two or three months, five or six weeks of moderately severe treatment, and always with good effect. do you come here, i pray and beg whenever you can find time; you cannot tell how much pleasure it would give me and e. i have finished the st volume for the ray society of pedunculated cirripedes, which, as i think you are a member, you will soon get. read what i describe on the sexes of ibla and scalpellum. i am now at work on the sessile cirripedes, and am wonderfully tired of my job: a man to be a systematic naturalist ought to work at least eight hours per day. you saw through me, when you said that i must have wished to have seen the effects of the [word illegible] debacle, for i was saying a week ago to e., that had i been as i was in old days, i would have been certainly off that hour. you ask after erasmus; he is much as usual, and constantly more or less unwell. susan (his sister.) is much better, and very flourishing and happy. catherine (another sister.) is at rome, and has enjoyed it in a degree that is quite astonishing to my dry old bones. and now i think i have told you enough, and more than enough about the house of darwin; so my dear old friend, farewell. what pleasant times we had in drinking coffee in your rooms at christ's college, and think of the glories of crux major. (the beetle panagaeus crux-major.) ah, in those days there were no professions for sons, no ill-health to fear for them, no californian gold, no french invasions. how paramount the future is to the present when one is surrounded by children. my dread is hereditary ill-health. even death is better for them. my dear fox, your sincere friend, c. darwin. p.s.--susan has lately been working in a way which i think truly heroic about the scandalous violation of the act against children climbing chimneys. we have set up a little society in shrewsbury to prosecute those who break the law. it is all susan's doing. she has had very nice letters from lord shaftesbury and the duke of sutherland, but the brutal shropshire squires are as hard as stones to move. the act out of london seems most commonly violated. it makes one shudder to fancy one of one's own children at seven years old being forced up a chimney--to say nothing of the consequent loathsome disease and ulcerated limbs, and utter moral degradation. if you think strongly on this subject, do make some inquiries; add to your many good works, this other one, and try to stir up the magistrates. there are several people making a stir in different parts of england on this subject. it is not very likely that you would wish for such, but i could send you some essays and information if you so liked, either for yourself or to give away. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down [october th, ]. my dear fox, i received your long and most welcome letter this morning, and will answer it this evening, as i shall be very busy with an artist, drawing cirripedia, and much overworked for the next fortnight. but first you deserve to be well abused--and pray consider yourself well abused--for thinking or writing that i could for one minute be bored by any amount of detail about yourself and belongings. it is just what i like hearing; believe me that i often think of old days spent with you, and sometimes can hardly believe what a jolly careless individual one was in those old days. a bright autumn evening often brings to mind some shooting excursion from osmaston. i do indeed regret that we live so far off each other, and that i am so little locomotive. i have been unusually well of late (no water-cure), but i do not find that i can stand any change better than formerly...the other day i went to london and back, and the fatigue, though so trifling, brought on my bad form of vomiting. i grieve to hear that your chest has been ailing, and most sincerely do i hope that it is only the muscles; how frequently the voice fails with the clergy. i can well understand your reluctance to break up your large and happy party and go abroad; but your life is very valuable, so you ought to be very cautious in good time. you ask about all of us, now five boys (oh! the professions; oh! the gold; and oh! the french--these three oh's all rank as dreadful bugbears) and two girls...but another and the worst of my bugbears is hereditary weakness. all my sisters are well except mrs. parker, who is much out of health; and so is erasmus at his poor average: he has lately moved into queen anne street. i had heard of the intended marriage (to the rev. j. hughes.) of your sister frances. i believe i have seen her since, but my memory takes me back some twenty-five years, when she was lying down. i remember well the delightful expression of her countenance. i most sincerely wish her all happiness. i see i have not answered half your queries. we like very well all that we have seen and heard of rugby, and have never repented of sending [w.] there. i feel sure schools have greatly improved since our days; but i hate schools and the whole system of breaking through the affections of the family by separating the boys so early in life; but i see no help, and dare not run the risk of a youth being exposed to the temptations of the world without having undergone the milder ordeal of a great school. i see you even ask after our pears. we have lots of beurrees d'aremberg, winter nelis, marie louise, and "ne plus ultra," but all off the wall; the standard dwarfs have borne a few, but i have no room for more trees, so their names would be useless to me. you really must make a holiday and pay us a visit sometime; nowhere could you be more heartily welcome. i am at work at the second volume of the cirripedia, of which creatures i am wonderfully tired. i hate a barnacle as no man ever did before, not even a sailor in a slow-sailing ship. my first volume is out; the only part worth looking at is on the sexes of ibla and scalpellum. i hope by next summer to have done with my tedious work. farewell,--do come whenever you can possibly manage it. i cannot but hope that the carbuncle may possibly do you good: i have heard of all sorts of weaknesses disappearing after a carbuncle. i suppose the pain is dreadful. i agree most entirely, what a blessed discovery is chloroform. when one thinks of one's children, it makes quite a little difference in one's happiness. the other day i had five grinders (two by the elevator) out at a sitting under this wonderful substance, and felt hardly anything. my dear old friend, yours very affectionately, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, january th [ ]. my dear fox, your last account some months ago was so little satisfactory that i have often been thinking of you, and should be really obliged if you would give me a few lines, and tell me how your voice and chest are. i most sincerely hope that your report will be good...our second lad has a strong mechanical turn, and we think of making him an engineer. i shall try and find out for him some less classical school, perhaps bruce castle. i certainly should like to see more diversity in education than there is in any ordinary school--no exercising of the observing or reasoning faculties, no general knowledge acquired--i must think it a wretched system. on the other hand, a boy who has learnt to stick at latin and conquer its difficulties, ought to be able to stick at any labour. i should always be glad to hear anything about schools or education from you. i am at my old, never-ending subject, but trust i shall really go to press in a few months with my second volume on cirripedes. i have been much pleased by finding some odd facts in my first volume believed by owen and a few others, whose good opinion i regard as final...do write pretty soon, and tell me all you can about yourself and family; and i trust your report of yourself may be much better than your last. ...i have been very little in london of late, and have not seen lyell since his return from america; how lucky he was to exhume with his own hand parts of three skeletons of reptiles out of the carboniferous strata, and out of the inside of a fossil tree, which had been hollow within. farewell, my dear fox, yours affectionately, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. sea houses, eastbourne, [july th? ]. my dear fox, here we are in a state of profound idleness, which to me is a luxury; and we should all, i believe, have been in a state of high enjoyment, had it not been for the detestable cold gales and much rain, which always gives much ennui to children away from their homes. i received your letter of th june, when working like a slave with mr. sowerby at drawing for my second volume, and so put off answering it till when i knew i should be at leisure. i was extremely glad to get your letter. i had intended a couple of months ago sending you a savage or supplicating jobation to know how you were, when i met sir p. egerton, who told me you were well, and, as usual, expressed his admiration of your doings, especially your farming, and the number of animals, including children, which you kept on your land. eleven children, ave maria! it is a serious look-out for you. indeed, i look at my five boys as something awful, and hate the very thoughts of professions, etc. if one could insure moderate health for them it would not signify so much, for i cannot but hope, with the enormous emigration, professions will somewhat improve. but my bugbear is hereditary weakness. i particularly like to hear all that you can say about education, and you deserve to be scolded for saying "you did not mean to torment me with a long yarn." you ask about rugby. i like it very well, on the same principle as my neighbour, sir j. lubbock, likes eton, viz., that it is not worse than any other school; the expense, with all etc., etc., including some clothes, travelling expenses, etc., is from pounds to pounds per annum. i do not think schools are so wicked as they were, and far more industrious. the boys, i think, live too secluded in their separate studies; and i doubt whether they will get so much knowledge of character as boys used to do; and this, in my opinion, is the one good of public schools over small schools. i should think the only superiority of a small school over home was forced regularity in their work, which your boys perhaps get at your home, but which i do not believe my boys would get at my home. otherwise, it is quite lamentable sending boys so early in life from their home. ...to return to schools. my main objection to them, as places of education, is the enormous proportion of time spent over classics. i fancy (though perhaps it is only fancy) that i can perceive the ill and contracting effect on my eldest boy's mind, in checking interest in anything in which reasoning and observation come into play. mere memory seems to be worked. i shall certainly look out for some school with more diversified studies for my younger boys. i was talking lately to the dean of hereford, who takes most strongly this view; and he tells me that there is a school at hereford commencing on this plan; and that dr. kennedy at shrewsbury is going to begin vigorously to modify that school... i am extremely glad to hear that you approved of my cirripedial volume. i have spent an almost ridiculous amount of labour on the subject, and certainly would never have undertaken it had i foreseen what a job it was. i hope to have finished by the end of the year. do write again before a very long time; it is a real pleasure to me to hear from you. farewell, with my wife's kindest remembrances to yourself and mrs. fox. my dear old friend, yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, august th [ ]. my dear fox, i thank you sincerely for writing to me so soon after your most heavy misfortune. your letter affected me so much. we both most truly sympathise with you and mrs. fox. we too lost, as you may remember, not so very long ago, a most dear child, of whom i can hardly yet bear to think tranquilly; yet, as you must know from your own most painful experience, time softens and deadens, in a manner truly wonderful, one's feelings and regrets. at first it is indeed bitter. i can only hope that your health and that of poor mrs. fox may be preserved, and that time may do its work softly, and bring you all together, once again, as the happy family, which, as i can well believe, you so lately formed. my dear fox, your affectionate friend, charles darwin. [the following letter refers to the royal society's medal, which was awarded to him in november, :] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. my dear hooker, amongst my letters received this morning, i opened first one from colonel sabine; the contents certainly surprised me very much, but, though the letter was a very kind one, somehow, i cared very little indeed for the announcement it contained. i then opened yours, and such is the effect of warmth, friendship, and kindness from one that is loved, that the very same fact, told as you told it, made me glow with pleasure till my very heart throbbed. believe me, i shall not soon forget the pleasure of your letter. such hearty, affectionate sympathy is worth more than all the medals that ever were or will be coined. again, my dear hooker, i thank you. i hope lindley (john lindley, - , was the son of a nurseryman near norwich, through whose failure in business he was thrown at the age of twenty on his own resources. he was befriended by sir w. hooker, and employed as assistant librarian by sir j. banks. he seems to have had enormous capacity of work, and is said to have translated richard's 'analyse du fruit' at one sitting of two days and three nights. he became assistant-secretary to the horticultural society, and in was appointed professor of botany at university college, a post which he held for upwards of thirty years. his writings are numerous: the best known being perhaps his 'vegetable kingdom,' published in . his influence in helping to introduce the natural system of classification was considerable, and he brought "all the weight of his teaching and all the force of his controversial powers to support it," as against the linnean system universally taught in the earlier part of his career. sachs points out (geschichte der botanik, , page ), that though lindley adopted in the main a sound classification of plants, he only did so by abandoning his own theoretical principle that the physiological importance of an organ is a measure of its classificatory value.) will never hear that he was a competitor against me; for really it is almost ridiculous (of course you would never repeat that i said this, for it would be thought by others, though not, i believe, by you, to be affectation) his not having the medal long before me; i must feel sure that you did quite right to propose him; and what a good, dear, kind fellow you are, nevertheless, to rejoice in this honour being bestowed on me. what pleasure i have felt on the occasion, i owe almost entirely to you. farewell, my dear hooker, yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--you may believe what a surprise it was, for i had never heard that the medals could be given except for papers in the 'transactions.' all this will make me work with better heart at finishing the second volume. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, february th [ ]. my dear lyell, i should have written before, had it not seemed doubtful whether you would go on to teneriffe, but now i am extremely glad to hear your further progress is certain; not that i have much of any sort to say, as you may well believe when you hear that i have only once been in london since you started. i was particularly glad to see, two days since, your letter to mr. horner, with its geological news; how fortunate for you that your knees are recovered. i am astonished at what you say of the beauty, though i had fancied it great. it really makes me quite envious to think of your clambering up and down those steep valleys. and what a pleasant party on your return from your expeditions. i often think of the delight which i felt when examining volcanic islands, and i can remember even particular rocks which i struck, and the smell of the hot, black, scoriaceous cliffs; but of those hot smells you do not seem to have had much. i do quite envy you. how i should like to be with you, and speculate on the deep and narrow valleys. how very singular the fact is which you mention about the inclination of the strata being greater round the circumference than in the middle of the island; do you suppose the elevation has had the form of a flat dome? i remember in the cordillera being often struck with the greater abruptness of the strata in the low extreme outermost ranges, compared with the great mass of inner mountains. i dare say you will have thought of measuring exactly the width of any dikes at the top and bottom of any great cliff (which was done by mr. searle [?] at st. helena), for it has often struck me as very odd that the cracks did not die out oftener upwards. i can think of hardly any news to tell you, as i have seen no one since being in london, when i was delighted to see forbes looking so well, quite big and burly. i saw at the museum some of the surprisingly rich gold ore from north wales. ramsay also told me that he has lately turned a good deal of new red sandstone into permian, together with the labyrinthodon. no doubt you see newspapers, and know that e. de beaumont is perpetual secretary, and will, i suppose, be more powerful than ever; and le verrier has arago's place in the observatory. there was a meeting lately at the geological society, at which prestwich (judging from what r. jones told me) brought forward your exact theory, viz. that the whole red clay and flints over the chalk plateau hereabouts is the residuum from the slow dissolution of the chalk! as regards ourselves, we have no news, and are all well. the hookers, sometime ago, stayed a fortnight with us, and, to our extreme delight, henslow came down, and was most quiet and comfortable here. it does one good to see so composed, benevolent, and intellectual a countenance. there have been great fears that his heart is affected; but, i hope to god, without foundation. hooker's book (sir j. hooker's 'himalayan journal.') is out, and most beautifully got up. he has honoured me beyond measure by dedicating it to me! as for myself, i am got to the page of the barnacles, and that is the sum total of my history. by-the-way, as you care so much about north america, i may mention that i had a long letter from a shipmate in australia, who says the colony is getting decidedly republican from the influx of americans, and that all the great and novel schemes for working the gold are planned and executed by these men. what a go-a-head nation it is! give my kindest remembrances to lady lyell, and to mrs. bunbury, and to bunbury. i most heartily wish that the canaries may be ten times as interesting as madeira, and that everything may go on most prosperously with your whole party. my dear lyell, yours most truly and affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, march st [ ]. my dear hooker, i finished yesterday evening the first volume, and i very sincerely congratulate you on having produced a first-class book ('himalayan journal.')--a book which certainly will last. i cannot doubt that it will take its place as a standard, not so much because it contains real solid matter, but that it gives a picture of the whole country. one can feel that one has seen it (and desperately uncomfortable i felt in going over some of the bridges and steep slopes), and one realises all the great physical features. you have in truth reason to be proud; consider how few travellers there have been with a profound knowledge of one subject, and who could in addition make a map (which, by-the-way, is one of the most distinct ones i ever looked at, wherefore blessings alight on your head), and study geology and meteorology! i thought i knew you very well, but i had not the least idea that your travels were your hobby; but i am heartily glad of it, for i feel sure that the time will never come when you and mrs. hooker will not be proud to look back at the labour bestowed on these beautiful volumes. your letter, received this morning, has interested me extremely, and i thank you sincerely for telling me your old thoughts and aspirations. all that you say makes me even more deeply gratified by the dedication; but you, bad man, do you remember asking me how i thought lyell would like the work to be dedicated to him? i remember how strongly i answered, and i presume you wanted to know what i should feel; whoever would have dreamed of your being so crafty? i am glad you have shown a little bit of ambition about your journal, for you must know that i have often abused you for not caring more about fame, though, at the same time, i must confess, i have envied and honoured you for being so free (too free, as i have always thought) of this "last infirmity of, etc." do not say, "there never was a past hitherto to me--the phantom was always in view," for you will soon find other phantoms in view. how well i know this feeling, and did formerly still more vividly; but i think my stomach has much deadened my former pure enthusiasm for science and knowledge. i am writing an unconscionably long letter, but i must return to the journals, about which i have hardly said anything in detail. imprimis, the illustrations and maps appear to me the best i have ever seen; the style seems to me everywhere perfectly clear (how rare a virtue), and some passages really eloquent. how excellently you have described the upper valleys, and how detestable their climate; i felt quite anxious on the slopes of kinchin that dreadful snowy night. nothing has astonished me more than your physical strength; and all those devilish bridges! well, thank goodness! it is not very likely that i shall ever go to the himalaya. much in a scientific point of view has interested me, especially all about those wonderful moraines. i certainly think i quite realise the valleys, more vividly perhaps from having seen the valleys of tahiti. i cannot doubt that the himalaya owe almost all their contour to running water, and that they have been subjected to such action longer than any mountains (as yet described) in the world. what a contrast with the andes! perhaps you would like to hear the very little that i can say per contra, and this only applied to the beginning, in which (as it struck me) there was not flow enough till you get to mirzapore on the ganges (but the thugs were most interesting), where the stream seemed to carry you on more equably with longer sentences and longer facts and discussions, etc. in another edition (and i am delighted to hear that murray has sold all off), i would consider whether this part could not be condensed. even if the meteorology was put in foot-notes, i think it would be an improvement. all the world is against me, but it makes me very unhappy to see the latin names all in italics, and all mingled with english names in roman type; but i must bear this burden, for all men of science seem to think it would corrupt the latin to dress it up in the same type as poor old english. well, i am very proud of my book; but there is one bore, that i do not much like asking people whether they have seen it, and how they like it, for i feel so much identified with it, that such questions become rather personal. hence, i cannot tell you the opinion of others. you will have seen a fairly good review in the 'athenaeum.' what capital news from tasmania: it really is a very remarkable and creditable fact to the colony. (this refers to an unsolicited grant by the colonial government towards the expenses of sir j. hooker's 'flora of tasmania.') i am always building veritable castles in the air about emigrating, and tasmania has been my head-quarters of late; so that i feel very proud of my adopted country: is really a very singular and delightful fact, contrasted with the slight appreciation of science in the old country. i thank you heartily for your letter this morning, and for all the gratification your dedication has given me; i could not help thinking how much -- would despise you for not having dedicated it to some great man, who would have done you and it some good in the eyes of the world. ah, my dear hooker, you were very soft on this head, and justify what i say about not caring enough for your own fame. i wish i was in every way more worthy of your good opinion. farewell. how pleasantly mrs. hooker and you must rest from one of your many labours... again farewell: i have written a wonderfully long letter. adios, and god bless you. my dear hooker, ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--i have just looked over my rambling letter; i see that i have not at all expressed my strong admiration at the amount of scientific work, in so many branches, which you have effected. it is really grand. you have a right to rest on your oars; or even to say, if it so pleases you, that "your meridian is past;" but well assured do i feel that the day of your reputation and general recognition has only just begun to dawn. [in september, , his cirripede work was practically finished, and he wrote to dr. hooker: "i have been frittering away my time for the last several weeks in a wearisome manner, partly idleness, and odds and ends, and sending ten thousand barnacles out of the house all over the world. but i shall now in a day or two begin to look over my old notes on species. what a deal i shall have to discuss with you; i shall have to look sharp that i do not 'progress' into one of the greatest bores in life, to the few like you with lots of knowledge."] chapter .x. -- the growth of the 'origin of species.' [the growth of the 'origin of species' has been briefly described in my father's words (above). the letters given in the present and following chapters will illustrate and amplify the history thus sketched out.] it is clear that in the early part of the voyage of the "beagle" he did not feel it inconsistent with his views to express himself in thoroughly orthodox language as to the genesis of new species. thus in he wrote (ms. journals, page .) at valparaiso: "i have already found beds of recent shells yet retaining their colour at an elevation of feet, and beneath, the level country is strewn with them. it seems not a very improbable conjecture that the want of animals may be owing to none having been created since this country was raised from the sea." this passage does not occur in the published 'journal,' the last proof of which was finished in ; and this fact harmonizes with the change we know to have been proceeding in his views. but in the published 'journal' we find passages which show a point of view more in accordance with orthodox theological natural history than with his later views. thus, in speaking of the birds synallaxis and scytalopus ( st edition page ; nd edition page ), he says: "when finding, as in this case, any animal which seems to play so insignificant a part in the great scheme of nature, one is apt to wonder why a distinct species should have been created." a comparison of the two editions of the 'journal' is instructive, as giving some idea of the development of his views on evolution. it does not give us a true index of the mass of conjecture which was taking shape in his mind, but it shows us that he felt sure enough of the truth of his belief to allow a stronger tinge of evolution to appear in the second edition. he has mentioned in the autobiography that it was not until he read malthus that he got a clear view of the potency of natural selection. this was in --a year after he finished the first edition (it was not published until ), and five years before the second edition was written ( ). thus the turning-point in the formation of his theory took place between the writing of the two editions. i will first give a few passages which are practically the same in the two editions, and which are, therefore, chiefly of interest as illustrating his frame of mind in . the case of the two species of molothrus ( st edition page ; nd edition page ) must have been one of the earliest instances noticed by him of the existence of representative species--a phenomenon which we know ('autobiography,') struck him deeply. the discussion on introduced animals ( st edition page ; nd edition page ) shows how much he was impressed by the complicated interdependence of the inhabitants of a given area. an analogous point of view is given in the discussion ( st edition page ; nd edition page ) of the mistaken belief that large animals require, for their support, a luxuriant vegetation; the incorrectness of this view is illustrated by the comparison of the fauna of south africa and south america, and the vegetation of the two continents. the interest of the discussion is that it shows clearly our a priori ignorance of the conditions of life suitable to any organism. there is a passage which has been more than once quoted as bearing on the origin of his views. it is where he discusses the striking difference between the species of mice on the east and west of the andes ( st edition page ): "unless we suppose the same species to have been created in two different countries, we ought not to expect any closer similarity between the organic beings on the opposite sides of the andes than on shores separated by a broad strait of the sea." in the nd edition page , the passage is almost verbally identical, and is practically the same. there are other passages again which are more strongly evolutionary in the nd edition, but otherwise are similar to the corresponding passages in the st edition. thus, in describing the blind tuco-tuco ( st edition page ; nd edition page ), in the first edition he makes no allusion to what lamarck might have thought, nor is the instance used as an example of modification, as in the edition of . a striking passage occurs in the nd edition (page ) on the relationship between the "extinct edentata and the living sloths, ant-eaters, and armadillos." "this wonderful relationship in the same continent between the dead and the living, will, i do not doubt, hereafter throw more light on the appearance of organic beings on our earth, and their disappearance from it, than any other class of facts." this sentence does not occur in the st edition, but he was evidently profoundly struck by the disappearance of the gigantic forerunners of the present animals. the difference between the discussions in the two editions is most instructive. in both, our ignorance of the conditions of life is insisted on, but in the second edition, the discussion is made to led up to a strong statement of the intensity of the struggle for life. then follows a comparison between rarity (in the second edition, page , the destruction of niata cattle by droughts is given as a good example of our ignorance of the causes of rarity or extinction. the passage does not occur in the first edition.) and extinction, which introduces the idea that the preservation and dominance of existing species depend on the degree in which they are adapted to surrounding conditions. in the first edition, he is merely "tempted to believe in such simple relations as variation of climate and food, or introduction of enemies, or the increased number of other species, as the cause of the succession of races." but finally ( st edition) he ends the chapter by comparing the extinction of a species to the exhaustion and disappearance of varieties of fruit-trees: as if he thought that a mysterious term of life was impressed on each species at its creation. the difference of treatment of the galapagos problem is of some interest. in the earlier book, the american type of the productions of the islands is noticed, as is the fact that the different islands possess forms specially their own, but the importance of the whole problem is not so strongly put forward. thus, in the first edition, he merely says:-- "this similarity of type between distant islands and continents, while the species are distinct, has scarcely been sufficiently noticed. the circumstance would be explained, according to the views of some authors, by saying that the creative power had acted according to the same law over a wide area."--( st edition page .) this passage is not given in the second edition, and the generalisations on geographical distribution are much wider and fuller. thus he asks:-- "why were their aboriginal inhabitants, associated...in different proportions both in kind and number from those on the continent, and therefore acting on each other in a different manner--why were they created on american types of organisation?"--( nd edition page .) the same difference of treatment is shown elsewhere in this chapter. thus the gradation in the form of beak presented by the thirteen allied species of finch is described in the first edition (page ) without comment. whereas in the second edition (page ) he concludes:-- "one might really fancy that from an original paucity of birds in this archipelago, one species has been taken and modified for different ends." on the whole it seems to me remarkable that the difference between the two editions is not greater; it is another proof of the author's caution and self-restraint in the treatment of his theory. after reading the second edition of the 'journal,' we find with a strong sense of surprise how far developed were his views in . we are enabled to form an opinion on this point from the note-books in which he wrote down detached thoughts and queries. i shall quote from the first note-book, completed between july and february : and this is the more worth doing, as it gives us an insight into the condition of his thoughts before the reading of malthus. the notes are written in his most hurried style, so many words being omitted, that it is often difficult to arrive at the meaning. with a few exceptions (indicated by square brackets) (in the extracts from the note-book ordinary brackets represent my father's parentheses.) i have printed the extracts as written; the punctuation, however, has been altered, and a few obvious slips corrected where it seemed necessary. the extracts are not printed in order, but are roughly classified. (on the first page of the note-book, is written "zoonomia"; this seems to refer to the first few pages in which reproduction by gemmation is discussed, and where the "zoonomia" is mentioned. many pages have been cut out of the note-book, probably for use in writing the sketch of , and these would have no doubt contained the most interesting extracts.) "propagation explains why modern animals same type as extinct, which is law, almost proved." "we can see why structure is common in certain countries when we can hardly believe necessary, but if it was necessary to one forefather, the result would be as it is. hence antelopes at cape of good hope; marsupials at australia." "countries longest separated greatest differences--if separated from immersage, possibly two distinct types, but each having its representatives--as in australia." "will this apply to whole organic kingdom when our planet first cooled?" the two following extracts show that he applied the theory of evolution to the "whole organic kingdom" from plants to man. "if we choose to let conjecture run wild, then animals, our fellow brethren in pain, disease, death, suffering and famine--our slaves in the most laborious works, our companions in our amusements--they may partake [of?] our origin in one common ancestor--we may be all melted together." "the different intellects of man and animals not so great as between living things without thought (plants), and living things with thought (animals)." the following extracts are again concerned with an a priori view of the probability of the origin of species by descent ["propagation," he called it.]. "the tree of life should perhaps be called the coral of life, base of branches dead; so that passages cannot be seen." "there never may have been grade between pig and tapir, yet from some common progenitor. now if the intermediate ranks had produced infinite species, probably the series would have been more perfect." at another place, speaking of intermediate forms he says:-- "cuvier objects to propagation of species by saying, why have not some intermediate forms been discovered between palaeotherium, megalonyx, mastodon, and the species now living? now according to my view (in s. america) parent of all armadilloes might be brother to megatherium--uncle now dead." speaking elsewhere of intermediate forms, he remarks:-- "opponents will say--'show them me.' i will answer yes, if you will show me every step between bulldog and greyhound." here we see that the case of domestic animals was already present in his mind as bearing on the production of natural species. the disappearance of intermediate forms naturally leads up to the subject of extinction, with which the next extract begins. "it is a wonderful fact, horse, elephant, and mastodon, dying out about same time in such different quarters. "will mr. lyell say that some [same?] circumstance killed it over a tract from spain to south america?--(never). "they die, without they change, like golden pippins; it is a generation of species like generation of individuals. "why does individual die? to perpetuate certain peculiarities (therefore adaptation), and obliterate accidental varieties, and to accommodate itself to change (for, of course, change, even in varieties, is accommodation). now this argument applies to species. "if individual cannot propagate he has no issue--so with species. "if species generate other species, their race is not utterly cut off:-- like golden pippins, if produced by seed, go on--otherwise all die. "the fossil horse generated, in south africa, zebra--and continued--perished in america. "all animals of same species are bound together just like buds of plants, which die at one time, though produced either sooner or later. prove animals like plants--trace gradation between associated and non-associated animals--and the story will be complete." here we have the view already alluded to of a term of life impressed on a species. but in the following note we get extinction connected with unfavourable variation, and thus a hint is given of natural selection: "with respect to extinction, we can easily see that [a] variety of [the] ostrich (petise), may not be well adapted, and thus perish out; or, on the other hand, like orpheus [a galapagos bird], being favourable, many might be produced. this requires [the] principle that the permanent variations produced by confined breeding and changing circumstances are continued and produced according to the adaptation of such circumstance, and therefore that death of species is a consequence (contrary to what would appear from america) of non-adaptation of circumstances." the first part of the next extract has a similar bearing. the end of the passage is of much interest, as showing that he had at this early date visions of the far-reaching character of the theory of evolution:-- "with belief of transmutation and geographical grouping, we are lead to endeavour to discover causes of change; the manner of adaptation (wish of parents??), instinct and structure becomes full of speculation and lines of observation. view of generation being condensation (i imagine him to mean that each generation is "condensed" to a small number of the best organized individuals.) test of highest organisation intelligible...my theory would give zest to recent and fossil comparative anatomy; it would lead to the study of instincts, heredity, and mind-heredity, whole [of] metaphysics. "it would lead to closest examination of hybridity and generation, causes of change in order to know what we have come from and to what we tend--to what circumstances favour crossing and what prevents it--this, and direct examination of direct passages of structure in species, might lead to laws of change, which would then be [the] main object of study, to guide our speculations." the following two extracts have a similar interest; the second is especially interesting, as it contains the germ of concluding sentence of the 'origin of species': ('origin of species' ( st edition), page :-- "there is a grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.")-- "before the attraction of gravity discovered it might have been said it was as great a difficulty to account for the movement of all [planets] by one law, as to account for each separate one; so to say that all mammalia were born from one stock, and since distributed by such means as we can recognise, may be thought to explain nothing. "astronomers might formerly have said that god fore-ordered each planet to move in its particular destiny. in the same manner god orders each animal created with certain forms in certain countries, but how much more simple and sublime [a] power--let attraction act according to certain law, such are inevitable consequences--let animals be created, then by the fixed laws of generation, such will be their successors. "let the powers of transportal be such, and so will be the forms of one country to another--let geological changes go at such a rate, so will be the number and distribution of the species!!" the three next extracts are of miscellaneous interest:-- "when one sees nipple on man's breast, one does not say some use, but sex not having been determined--so with useless wings under elytra of beetles--born from beetles with wings, and modified--if simple creation merely, would have been born without them." "in a decreasing population at any one moment fewer closely related (few species of genera); ultimately few genera (for otherwise the relationship would converge sooner), and lastly, perhaps, some one single one. will not this account for the odd genera with few species which stand between great groups, which we are bound to consider the increasing ones?" the last extract which i shall quote gives the germ of his theory of the relation between alpine plants in various parts of the world, in the publication of which he was forestalled by e. forbes (see volume i. page ). he says, in the note-book, that alpine plants, "formerly descended lower, therefore [they are] species of lower genera altered, or northern plants." when we turn to the sketch of his theory, written in (still therefore before the second edition of the 'journal' was completed), we find an enormous advance made on the note-book of . the sketch is an fact a surprisingly complete presentation of the argument afterwards familiar to us in the 'origin of species.' there is some obscurity as to the date of the short sketch which formed the basis of the essay. we know from his own words (volume i., page ), that it was in june that he first wrote out a short sketch of his views. (this version i cannot find, and it was probably destroyed, like so much of his ms., after it had been enlarged and re-copied in .) this statement is given with so much circumstance that it is almost impossible to suppose that it contains an error of date. it agrees also with the following extract from his diary. . may th. went to maer. "june th to shrewsbury, and on th to capel curig. during my stay at maer and shrewsbury (five years after commencement) wrote pencil-sketch of species theory." again in the introduction to the 'origin,' page , he writes, "after an interval of five years' work" [from , i.e. in ], "i allowed myself to speculate on the subject, and drew up some short notes." nevertheless in the letter signed by sir c. lyell and sir j.d. hooker, which serves as an introduction to the joint paper of messrs. c. darwin and a. wallace on the 'tendency of species to form varieties,' ('linn. soc. journal,' , page .) the essay of (extracts from which form part of the paper) is said to have been "sketched in , and copied in ." this statement is obviously made on the authority of a note written in my father's hand across the table of contents of the essay. it is to the following effect: "this was sketched in , and copied out in full, as here written and read by you in ." i conclude that this note was added in , when the ms. was sent to sir j.d. hooker (see letter of june , , page ). there is also some further evidence on this side of the question. writing to mr. wallace (january , ) my father says:-- "every one whom i have seen has thought your paper very well written and interesting. it puts my extracts (written in , now just twenty years ago!), which i must say in apology were never for an instant intended for publication; into the shade." the statement that the earliest sketch was written in has been frequently made in biographical notices of my father, no doubt on the authority of the 'linnean journal,' but it must, i think, be considered as erroneous. the error may possibly have arisen in this way. in writing on the table of contents of the ms. that it was sketched in , i think my father may have intended to imply that the framework of the theory was clearly thought out by him at that date. in the autobiography he speaks of the time, "about , when the theory was clearly conceived," meaning, no doubt, the end of and beginning of , when the reading of malthus had given him the key to the idea of natural selection. but this explanation does not apply to the letter to mr. wallace; and with regard to the passage (my father certainly saw the proofs of the paper, for he added a foot-note apologising for the style of the extracts, on the ground that the "work was never intended for publication.") in the 'linnean journal' it is difficult to understand how it should have been allowed to remain as it now stands, conveying, as it clearly does, the impression that was the date of his earliest written sketch. the sketch of is written in a clerk's hand, in two hundred and thirty-one pages folio, blank leaves being alternated with the ms. with a view to amplification. the text has been revised and corrected, criticisms being pencilled by himself on the margin. it is divided into two parts: i. "on the variation of organic beings under domestication and in their natural state." ii. "on the evidence favourable and opposed to the view that species are naturally formed races descended from common stocks." the first part contains the main argument of the 'origin of species.' it is founded, as is the argument of that work, on the study of domestic animals, and both the sketch and the 'origin' open with a chapter on variation under domestication and on artificial selection. this is followed, in both essays, by discussions on variation under nature, on natural selection, and on the struggle for life. here, any close resemblance between the two essays with regard to arrangement ceases. chapter iii. of the sketch, which concludes the first part, treats of the variations which occur in the instincts and habits of animals, and thus corresponds to some extent with chapter vii. of the 'origin' ( st edition). it thus forms a complement to the chapters which deal with variation in structure. it seems to have been placed thus early in the essay to prevent the hasty rejection of the whole theory by a reader to whom the idea of natural selection acting on instincts might seem impossible. this is the more probable, as the chapter on instinct in the 'origin' is specially mentioned (introduction, page ) as one of the "most apparent and gravest difficulties on the theory." moreover the chapter in the sketch ends with a discussion, "whether any particular corporeal structures...are so wonderful as to justify the rejection prima facie of our theory." under this heading comes the discussion of the eye, which in the 'origin' finds its place in chapter vi. under "difficulties of the theory." the second part seems to have been planned in accordance with his favourite point of view with regard to his theory. this is briefly given in a letter to dr. asa gray, november th, : "i cannot possibly believe that a false theory would explain so many classes of facts, as i think it certainly does explain. on these grounds i drop my anchor, and believe that the difficulties will slowly disappear." on this principle, having stated the theory in the first part, he proceeds to show to what extent various wide series of facts can be explained by its means. thus the second part of the sketch corresponds roughly to the nine concluding chapters of the first edition of the 'origin.' but we must exclude chapter vii. ('origin') on instinct, which forms a chapter in the first part of the sketch, and chapter viii. ('origin') on hybridism, a subject treated in the sketch with 'variation under nature' in the first part. the following list of the chapters of the second part of the sketch will illustrate their correspondence with the final chapters of the 'origin.' chapter i. "on the kind of intermediateness necessary, and the number of such intermediate forms." this includes a geological discussion, and corresponds to parts of chapters vi. and ix. of the 'origin.' chapter ii. "the gradual appearance and disappearance of organic beings." corresponds to chapter x. of the 'origin.' chapter iii. "geographical distribution." corresponds to chapters xi. and xii. of the 'origin.' chapter iv. "affinities and classification of organic beings." chapter v. "unity of type," morphology, embryology. chapter vi. rudimentary organs. these three chapters correspond to chapter xii. of the 'origin.' chapter vii. recapitulation and conclusion. the final sentence of the sketch, which we saw in its first rough form in the note book of , closely resembles the final sentence of the 'origin,' much of it being identical. the 'origin' is not divided into two "parts," but we see traces of such a division having been present in the writer's mind, in this resemblance between the second part of the sketch and the final chapters of the 'origin.' that he should speak ('origin,' introduction, page .) of the chapters on transition, on instinct, on hybridism, and on the geological record, as forming a group, may be due to the division of his early ms. into two parts. mr. huxley, who was good enough to read the sketch at my request, while remarking that the "main lines of argument," and the illustrations employed are the same, points out that in the essay, "much more weight is attached to the influence of external conditions in producing variation, and to the inheritance of acquired habits than in the origin.'" it is extremely interesting to find in the sketch the first mention of principles familiar to us in the 'origin of species.' foremost among these may be mentioned the principle of sexual selection, which is clearly enunciated. the important form of selection known as "unconscious," is also given. here also occurs a statement of the law that peculiarities tend to appear in the offspring at an age corresponding to that at which they occurred in the parent. professor newton, who was so kind as to look through the sketch, tells me that my father's remarks on the migration of birds, incidentally given in more than one passage, show that he had anticipated the views of some later writers. with regard to the general style of the sketch, it is not to be expected that it should have all the characteristics of the 'origin,' and we do not, in fact, find that balance and control, that concentration and grasp, which are so striking in the work of . in the autobiography (page , volume ) my father has stated what seemed to him the chief flaw of the sketch; he had overlooked "one problem of great importance," the problem of the divergence of character. this point is discussed in the 'origin of species,' but, as it may not be familiar to all readers, i will give a short account of the difficulty and its solution. the author begins by stating that varieties differ from each other less than species, and then goes on: "nevertheless, according to my view, varieties are species in process of formation...how then does the lesser difference between varieties become augmented into the greater difference between species?" ('origin,' st edition, page .) he shows how an analogous divergence takes place under domestication where an originally uniform stock of horses has been split up into race-horses, dray-horses, etc., and then goes on to explain how the same principle applies to natural species. "from the simple circumstance that the more diversified the descendants from any one species become in structure, constitution, and habits, by so much will they be better enabled to seize on many and widely diversified places in the polity of nature, and so be enabled to increase in numbers." the principle is exemplified by the fact that if on one plot of ground a single variety of wheat be sown, and on to another a mixture of varieties, in the latter case the produce is greater. more individuals have been able to exist because they were not all of the same variety. an organism becomes more perfect and more fitted to survive when by division of labour the different functions of life are performed by different organs. in the same way a species becomes more efficient and more able to survive when different sections of the species become differentiated so as to fill different stations. in reading the sketch of , i have found it difficult to recognise the absence of any definite statement of the principle of divergence as a flaw in the essay. descent with modification implies divergence, and we become so habituated to a belief in descent, and therefore in divergence, that we do not notice the absence of proof that divergence is in itself an advantage. as shown in the autobiography, my father in found it hardly credible that he should have overlooked the problem and its solution. the following letter will be more in place here than its chronological position, since it shows what was my father's feeling as to the value of the sketch at the time of its completion.] charles darwin to mrs. darwin. down, july , . i have just finished my sketch of my species theory. if, as i believe, my theory in time be accepted even by one competent judge, it will be a considerable step in science. i therefore write this in case of my sudden death, as my most solemn and last request, which i am sure you will consider the same as if legally entered in my will, that you will devote pounds to its publication, and further, will yourself, or through hensleigh (mr. h. wedgwood.), take trouble in promoting it. i wish that my sketch be given to some competent person, with this sum to induce him to take trouble in its improvement and enlargement. i give to him all my books on natural history, which are either scored or have references at the end to the pages, begging him carefully to look over and consider such passages as actually bearing, or by possibility bearing, on this subject. i wish you to make a list of all such books as some temptation to an editor. i also request that you will hand over [to] him all those scraps roughly divided in eight or ten brown paper portfolios. the scraps, with copied quotations from various works, are those which may aid my editor. i also request that you, or some amanuensis, will aid in deciphering any of the scraps which the editor may think possibly of use. i leave to the editor's judgment whether to interpolate these facts in the text, or as notes, or under appendices. as the looking over the references and scraps will be a long labour, and as the correcting and enlarging and altering my sketch will also take considerable time, i leave this sum of pounds as some remuneration, and any profits from the work. i consider that for this the editor is bound to get the sketch published either at a publisher's or his own risk. many of the scrap in the portfolios contains mere rude suggestions and early views, now useless, and many of the facts will probably turn out as having no bearing on my theory. with respect to editors, mr. lyell would be the best if he would undertake it; i believe he would find the work pleasant, and he would learn some facts new to him. as the editor must be a geologist as well as a naturalist, the next best editor would be professor forbes of london. the next best (and quite best in many respects) would be professor henslow. dr. hooker would be very good. the next, mr. strickland. (after mr. strickland's name comes the following sentence, which has been erased but remained legible. "professor owen would be very good; but i presume he would not undertake such a work." if none of these would undertake it, i would request you to consult with mr. lyell, or some other capable man for some editor, a geologist and naturalist. should one other hundred pounds make the difference of procuring a good editor, request earnestly that you will raise pounds.) my remaining collections in natural history may be given to any one or any museum where it would be accepted... [the following note seems to have formed part of the original letter, but may have been of later date: "lyell, especially with the aid of hooker (and of any good zoological aid), would be best of all. without an editor will pledge himself to give up time to it, it would be of no use paying such a sum. "if there should be any difficulty in getting an editor who would go thoroughly into the subject, and think of the bearing of the passages marked in the books and copied out of scraps of paper, then let my sketch be published as it is, stating that it was done several years ago (the words "several years ago and," seem to have been added at a later date.) and from memory without consulting any works, and with no intention of publication in its present form." the idea that the sketch of might remain, in the event of his death, as the only record of his work, seems to have been long in his mind, for in august , when he had finished with the cirripedes, and was thinking of beginning his "species work," he added on the back of the above letter, "hooker by far best man to edit my species volume. august ."] chapter .xi. -- the growth of the 'origin of species.' letters, - . [the history of my father's life is told more completely in his correspondence with sir j.d. hooker than in any other series of letters; and this is especially true of the history of the growth of the 'origin of species.' this, therefore, seems an appropriate place for the following notes, which sir joseph hooker has kindly given me. they give, moreover, an interesting picture of his early friendship with my father:-- "my first meeting with mr. darwin was in , in trafalgar square. i was walking with an officer who had been his shipmate for a short time in the "beagle" seven years before, but who had not, i believe, since met him. i was introduced; the interview was of course brief, and the memory of him that i carried away and still retain was that of a rather tall and rather broad-shouldered man, with a slight stoop, an agreeable and animated expression when talking, beetle brows, and a hollow but mellow voice; and that his greeting of his old acquaintance was sailor-like--that is, delightfully frank and cordial. i observed him well, for i was already aware of his attainments and labours, derived from having read various proof-sheets of his then unpublished 'journal.' these had been submitted to mr. (afterwards sir charles) lyell by mr. darwin, and by him sent to his father, ch. lyell, esq., of kinnordy, who (being a very old friend of my father and taking a kind interest in my projected career as a naturalist) had allowed me to peruse them. at this time i was hurrying on my studies, so as to take my degree before volunteering to accompany sir james ross in the antarctic expedition, which had just been determined on by the admiralty; and so pressed for time was i, that i used to sleep with the sheets of the 'journal' under my pillow, that i might read them between waking and rising. they impressed me profoundly, i might say despairingly, with the variety of acquirements, mental and physical, required in a naturalist who should follow in darwin's footsteps, whilst they stimulated me to enthusiasm in the desire to travel and observe. "it has been a permanent source of happiness to me that i knew so much of mr. darwin's scientific work so many years before that intimacy began which ripened into feelings as near to those of reverence for his life, works, and character as is reasonable and proper. it only remains to add to this little episode that i received a copy of the 'journal' complete,--a gift from mr. lyell,--a few days before leaving england. "very soon after the return of the antarctic expedition my correspondence with mr. darwin began (december, ) by his sending me a long letter, warmly congratulating me on my return to my family and friends, and expressing a wish to hear more of the results of the expedition, of which he had derived some knowledge from private letters of my own (written to or communicated through mr. lyell). then, plunging at once into scientific matters, he directed my attention to the importance of correlating the fuegian flora with that of the cordillera and of europe, and invited me to study the botanical collections which he had made in the galapagos islands, as well as his patagonian and fuegian plants. "this led to me sending him an outline of the conclusions i had formed regarding the distribution of plants in the southern regions, and the necessity of assuming the destruction of considerable areas of land to account for the relations of the flora of the so-called antarctic islands. i do not suppose that any of these ideas were new to him, but they led to an animated and lengthy correspondence full of instruction." here follows the letter ( ) to sir j.d. hooker above referred to.] my dear sir, i had hoped before this time to have had the pleasure of seeing you and congratulating you on your safe return from your long and glorious voyage. but as i seldom go to london, we may not yet meet for some time--without you are led to attend the geological meetings. i am anxious to know what you intend doing with all your materials--i had so much pleasure in reading parts of some of your letters, that i shall be very sorry if i, as one of the public, have no opportunity of reading a good deal more. i suppose you are very busy now and full of enjoyment: how well i remember the happiness of my first few months of england--it was worth all the discomforts of many a gale! but i have run from the subject, which made me write, of expressing my pleasure that henslow (as he informed me a few days since by letter) has sent to you my small collection of plants. you cannot think how much pleased i am, as i feared they would have been all lost, and few as they are, they cost me a good deal of trouble. there are a very few notes, which i believe henslow has got, describing the habitats, etc., of some few of the more remarkable plants. i paid particular attention to the alpine flowers of tierra del fuego, and i am sure i got every plant which was in flower in patagonia at the seasons when we were there. i have long thought that some general sketch of the flora of the point of land, stretching so far into the southern seas, would be very curious. do make comparative remarks on the species allied to the european species, for the advantage of botanical ignoramuses like myself. it has often struck me as a curious point to find out, whether there are many european genera in tierra del fuego which are not found along the ridge of the cordillera; the separation in such case would be so enormous. do point out in any sketch you draw up, what genera are american and what european, and how great the differences of the species are, when the genera are european, for the sake of the ignoramuses. i hope henslow will send you my galapagos plants (about which humboldt even expressed to me considerable curiosity)--i took much pains in collecting all i could. a flora of this archipelago would, i suspect, offer a nearly parallel case to that of st. helena, which has so long excited interest. pray excuse this long rambling note, and believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. will you be so good as to present my respectful compliments to sir w. hooker. [referring to sir j.d. hooker's work on the galapagos flora, my father wrote in : "i cannot tell you how delighted and astonished i am at the results of your examination; how wonderfully they support my assertion on the differences in the animals of the different islands, about which i have always been fearful." again he wrote ( ):-- "i received a few weeks ago your galapagos papers (these papers include the results of sir j.d. hooker's examination of my father's galapagos plants, and were published by the linnean society in .), and i have read them since being here. i really cannot express too strongly my admiration of the geographical discussion: to my judgment it is a perfect model of what such a paper should be; it took me four days to read and think over. how interesting the flora of the sandwich islands appears to be, how i wish there were materials for you to treat its flora as you have done the galapagos. in the systematic paper i was rather disappointed in not finding general remarks on affinities, structures, etc., such as you often give in conversation, and such as de candolle and st. hilaire introduced in almost all their papers, and which make them interesting even to a non-botanist." "very soon afterwards [continues sir j.d. hooker] in a letter dated january , the subject of the 'origin of species' was brought forward by him, and i believe that i was the first to whom he communicated his then new ideas on the subject, and which being of interest as a contribution to the history of evolution, i here copy from his letter":--] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [january th, .] besides a general interest about the southern lands, i have been now ever since my return engaged in a very presumptuous work, and i know no one individual who would not say a very foolish one. i was so struck with the distribution of the galapagos organisms, etc. etc., and with the character of the american fossil mammifers, etc. etc., that i determined to collect blindly every sort of fact, which could bear any way on what are species. i have read heaps of agricultural and horticultural books, and have never ceased collecting facts. at last gleams of light have come, and i am almost convinced (quite contrary to the opinion i started with) that species are not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable. heaven forfend me from lamarck nonsense of a "tendency to progression," "adaptations from the slow willing of animals," etc.! but the conclusions i am led to are not widely different from his; though the means of change are wholly so. i think i have found out (here's presumption!) the simple way by which species become exquisitely adapted to various ends. you will now groan, and think to yourself, "on what a man have i been wasting my time and writing to." i should, five years ago, have thought so... [the following letter written on february , , shows that the acquaintanceship with sir j.d. hooker was then fast ripening into friendship. the letter is chiefly of interest as showing the sort of problems then occupying my father's mind:] dear hooker, i hope you will excuse the freedom of my address, but i feel that as co-circum-wanderers and as fellow labourers (though myself a very weak one) we may throw aside some of the old-world formality...i have just finished a little volume on the volcanic islands which we visited. i do not know how far you care for dry simple geology, but i hope you will let me send you a copy. i suppose i can send it from london by common coach conveyance. ...i am going to ask you some more questions, though i daresay, without asking them, i shall see answers in your work, when published, which will be quite time enough for my purposes. first for the galapagos, you will see in my journal, that the birds, though peculiar species, have a most obvious s. american aspect: i have just ascertained the same thing holds good with the sea-shells. it is so with those plants which are peculiar to this archipelago; you state that their numerical proportions are continental (is not this a very curious fact?) but are they related in forms to s. america. do you know of any other case of an archipelago, with the separate islands possessing distinct representative species? i have always intended (but have not yet done so) to examine webb and berthelot on the canary islands for this object. talking with mr. bentham, he told me that the separate islands of the sandwich archipelago possessed distinct representative species of the same genera of labiatae: would not this be worth your enquiry? how is it with the azores; to be sure the heavy western gales would tend to diffuse the same species over that group. i hope you will (i dare say my hope is quite superfluous) attend to this general kind of affinity in isolated islands, though i suppose it is more difficult to perceive this sort of relation in plants, than in birds or quadrupeds, the groups of which are, i fancy, rather more confined. can st. helena be classed, though remotely, either with africa or s. america? from some facts, which i have collected, i have been led to conclude that the fauna of mountains are either remarkably similar (sometimes in the presence of the same species and at other times of same genera), or that they are remarkably dissimilar; and it has occurred to me that possibly part of this peculiarity of the st. helena and galapagos floras may be attributed to a great part of these two floras being mountain floras. i fear my notes will hardly serve to distinguish much of the habitats of the galapagos plants, but they may in some cases; most, if not all, of the green, leafy plants come from the summits of the islands, and the thin brown leafless plants come from the lower arid parts: would you be so kind as to bear this remark in mind, when examining my collection. i will trouble you with only one other question. in discussion with mr. gould, i found that in most of the genera of birds which range over the whole or greater part of the world, the individual species have wider ranges, thus the owl is mundane, and many of the species have very wide ranges. so i believe it is with land and fresh-water shells--and i might adduce other cases. is it not so with cryptogamic plants; have not most of the species wide ranges, in those genera which are mundane? i do not suppose that the converse holds, viz.--that when a species has a wide range, its genus also ranges wide. will you so far oblige me by occasionally thinking over this? it would cost me vast trouble to get a list of mundane phanerogamic genera and then search how far the species of these genera are apt to range wide in their several countries; but you might occasionally, in the course of your pursuits, just bear this in mind, though perhaps the point may long since have occurred to you or other botanists. geology is bringing to light interesting facts, concerning the ranges of shells; i think it is pretty well established, that according as the geographical range of a species is wide, so is its persistence and duration in time. i hope you will try to grudge as little as you can the trouble of my letters, and pray believe me very truly yours, c. darwin. p.s. i should feel extremely obliged for your kind offer of the sketch of humboldt; i venerate him, and after having had the pleasure of conversing with him in london, i shall still more like to have any portrait of him. [what follows is quoted from sir j. hooker's notes. "the next act in the drama of our lives opens with personal intercourse. this began with an invitation to breakfast with him at his brother's (erasmus darwin's) house in park street; which was shortly afterwards followed by an invitation to down to meet a few brother naturalists. in the short intervals of good health that followed the long illnesses which oftentimes rendered life a burthen to him, between and , i had many such invitations, and delightful they were. a more hospitable and more attractive home under every point of view could not be imagined--of society there were most often dr. falconer, edward forbes, professor bell, and mr. waterhouse--there were long walks, romps with the children on hands and knees, music that haunts me still. darwin's own hearty manner, hollow laugh, and thorough enjoyment of home life with friends; strolls with him all together, and interviews with us one by one in his study, to discuss questions in any branch of biological or physical knowledge that we had followed; and which i at any rate always left with the feeling that i had imparted nothing and carried away more than i could stagger under. latterly, as his health became more seriously affected, i was for days and weeks the only visitor, bringing my work with me and enjoying his society as opportunity offered. it was an established rule that he every day pumped me, as he called it, for half an hour or so after breakfast in his study, when he first brought out a heap of slips with questions botanical, geographical, etc., for me to answer, and concluded by telling me of the progress he had made in his own work, asking my opinion on various points. i saw no more of him till about noon, when i heard his mellow ringing voice calling my name under my window--this was to join him in his daily forenoon walk round the sand-walk. on joining him i found him in a rough grey shooting-coat in summer, and thick cape over his shoulders in winter, and a stout staff in his hand; away we trudged through the garden, where there was always some experiment to visit, and on to the sand-walk, round which a fixed number of turns were taken, during which our conversation usually ran on foreign lands and seas, old friends, old books, and things far off to both mind and eye. "in the afternoon there was another such walk, after which he again retired till dinner if well enough to join the family; if not, he generally managed to appear in the drawing-room, where seated in his high chair, with his feet in enormous carpet shoes, supported on a high stool--he enjoyed the music or conversation of his family." here follows a series of letters illustrating the growth of my father's views, and the nature of his work during this period.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. ...the conclusion, which i have come at is, that those areas, in which species are most numerous, have oftenest been divided and isolated from other areas, united and again divided; a process implying antiquity and some changes in the external conditions. this will justly sound very hypothetical. i cannot give my reasons in detail; but the most general conclusion, which the geographical distribution of all organic beings, appears to me to indicate, is that isolation is the chief concomitant or cause of the appearance of new forms (i well know there are some staring exceptions). secondly, from seeing how often the plants and animals swarm in a country, when introduced into it, and from seeing what a vast number of plants will live, for instance in england, if kept free from weeds, and native plants, i have been led to consider that the spreading and number of the organic beings of any country depend less on its external features, than on the number of forms, which have been there originally created or produced. i much doubt whether you will find it possible to explain the number of forms by proportional differences of exposure; and i cannot doubt if half the species in any country were destroyed or had not been created, yet that country would appear to us fully peopled. with respect to original creation or production of new forms, i have said that isolation appears the chief element. hence, with respect to terrestrial productions, a tract of country, which had oftenest within the late geological periods subsided and been converted into islands, and reunited, i should expect to contain most forms. but such speculations are amusing only to one self, and in this case useless, as they do not show any direct line of observation: if i had seen how hypothetical [is] the little, which i have unclearly written, i would not have troubled you with the reading of it. believe me,--at last not hypothetically, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, . ...i forget my last letter, but it must have been a very silly one, as it seems i gave my notion of the number of species being in great degree governed by the degree to which the area had been often isolated and divided; i must have been cracked to have written it, for i have no evidence, without a person be willing to admit all my views, and then it does follow; but in my most sanguine moments, all i expect, is that i shall be able to show even to sound naturalists, that there are two sides to the question of the immutability of species;--that facts can be viewed and grouped under the notion of allied species having descended from common stocks. with respect to books on this subject, i do not know of any systematical ones, except lamarck's, which is veritable rubbish; but there are plenty, as lyell, pritchard, etc., on the view of the immutability. agassiz lately has brought the strongest argument in favour of immutability. isidore g. st. hilaire has written some good essays, tending towards the mutability-side, in the 'suites a buffon,' entitled "zoolog. generale." is it not strange that the author, of such a book as the 'animaux sans vertebres,' should have written that insects, which never see their eggs, should will (and plants, their seeds) to be of particular forms, so as to become attached to particular objects. the other, common (specially germanic) notion is hardly less absurd, viz. that climate, food, etc., should make a pediculus formed to climb hair, or wood-pecker, to climb trees. i believe all these absurd views arise, from no one having, as far as i know, approached the subject on the side of variation under domestication, and having studied all that is known about domestication. i was very glad to hear your criticism on island-floras and on non-diffusion of plants: the subject is too long for a letter: i could defend myself to some considerable extent, but i doubt whether successfully in your eyes, or indeed in my own... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [july, ]. ...i am now reading a wonderful book for facts on variation--bronn, 'geschichte der natur.' it is stiff german: it forestalls me, sometimes i think delightfully, and sometimes cruelly. you will be ten times hereafter more horrified at me than at h. watson. i hate arguments from results, but on my views of descent, really natural history becomes a sublimely grand result-giving subject (now you may quiz me for so foolish an escape of mouth)...i must leave this letter till to-morrow, for i am tired; but i so enjoy writing to you, that i must inflict a little more on you. have you any good evidence for absence of insects in small islands? i found thirteen species in keeling atoll. flies are good fertilizers, and i have seen a microscopic thrips and a cecidomya take flight from a flower in the direction of another with pollen adhering to them. in arctic countries a bee seems to go as far n. as any flower... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. shrewsbury [september, ]. my dear hooker, i write a line to say that cosmos (a translation of humboldt's 'kosmos.') arrived quite safely [n.b. one sheet came loose in part i.], and to thank you for your nice note. i have just begun the introduction, and groan over the style, which in such parts is full half the battle. how true many of the remarks are (i.e. as far as i can understand the wretched english) on the scenery; it is an exact expression of one's own thoughts. i wish i ever had any books to lend you in return for the many you have lent me... all of what you kindly say about my species work does not alter one iota my long self-acknowledged presumption in accumulating facts and speculating on the subject of variation, without having worked out my due share of species. but now for nine years it has been anyhow the greatest amusement to me. farewell, my dear hooker, i grieve more than you can well believe, over our prospect of so seldom meeting. i have never perceived but one fault in you, and that you have grievously, viz. modesty; you form an exception to sydney smith's aphorism, that merit and modesty have no other connection, except in their first letter. farewell, c. darwin. charles darwin to l. jenyns (blomefield). down, october th, [ ]. my dear jenyns, thanks for your note. i am sorry to say i have not even the tail-end of a fact in english zoology to communicate. i have found that even trifling observations require, in my case, some leisure and energy, both of which ingredients i have had none to spare, as writing my geology thoroughly expends both. i had always thought that i would keep a journal and record everything, but in the way i now live i find i observe nothing to record. looking after my garden and trees, and occasionally a very little walk in an idle frame of mind, fills up every afternoon in the same manner. i am surprised that with all your parish affairs, you have had time to do all that which you have done. i shall be very glad to see your little work (mr. jenyns' 'observations in natural history.' it is prefaced by an introduction on "habits of observing as connected with the study of natural history," and followed by a "calendar of periodic phenomena in natural history," with "remarks on the importance of such registers." my father seems to be alluding to this register in the p.s. to the letter dated october , .) (and proud should i have been if i could have added a single fact to it). my work on the species question has impressed me very forcibly with the importance of all such works as your intended one, containing what people are pleased generally to call trifling facts. these are the facts which make one understand the working or economy of nature. there is one subject, on which i am very curious, and which perhaps you may throw some light on, if you have ever thought on it; namely, what are the checks and what the periods of life,--by which the increase of any given species is limited. just calculate the increase of any bird, if you assume that only half the young are reared, and these breed: within the natural (i.e., if free from accidents) life of the parents the number of individuals will become enormous, and i have been much surprised to think how great destruction must annually or occasionally be falling on every species, yet the means and period of such destruction is scarcely perceived by us. i have continued steadily reading and collecting facts on variation of domestic animals and plants, and on the question of what are species. i have a grand body of facts, and i think i can draw some sound conclusions. the general conclusions at which i have slowly been driven from a directly opposite conviction, is that species are mutable, and that allied species are co-descendants from common stocks. i know how much i open myself to reproach for such a conclusion, but i have at least honestly and deliberately come to it. i shall not publish on this subject for several years. at present i am on the geology of south america. i hope to pick up from your book some facts on slight variations in structure or instincts in the animals of your acquaintance. believe me, ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to l. jenyns (rev. l. blomefield). down, [ ?]. my dear jenyns, i am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken in having written me so long a note. the question of where, when, and how the check to the increase of a given species falls appears to me particularly interesting, and our difficulty in answering it shows how really ignorant we are of the lives and habits of our most familiar species. i was aware of the bare fact of old birds driving away their young, but had never thought of the effect you so clearly point out, of local gaps in number being thus immediately filled up. but the original difficulty remains; for if your farmers had not killed your sparrows and rooks, what would have become of those which now immigrate into your parish? in the middle of england one is too far distant from the natural limits of the rook and sparrow to suppose that the young are thus far expelled from cambridgeshire. the check must fall heavily at some time of each species' life; for, if one calculates that only half the progeny are reared and bred, how enormous is the increase! one has, however, no business to feel so much surprise at one's ignorance, when one knows how impossible it is without statistics to conjecture the duration of life and percentage of deaths to births in mankind. if it could be shown that apparently the birds of passage which breed here and increase, return in the succeeding years in about the same number, whereas those that come here for their winter and non-breeding season annually, come here with the same numbers, but return with greatly decreased numbers, one would know (as indeed seems probable) that the check fell chiefly on full-grown birds in the winter season, and not on the eggs and very young birds, which has appeared to me often the most probable period. if at any time any remarks on this subject should occur to you, i should be most grateful for the benefit of them. with respect to my far distant work on species, i must have expressed myself with singular inaccuracy if i led you to suppose that i meant to say that my conclusions were inevitable. they have become so, after years of weighing puzzles, to myself alone; but in my wildest day-dream, i never expect more than to be able to show that there are two sides to the question of the immutability of species, i.e. whether species are directly created or by intermediate laws (as with the life and death of individuals). i did not approach the subject on the side of the difficulty in determining what are species and what are varieties, but (though, why i should give you such a history of my doings it would be hard to say) from such facts as the relationship between the living and extinct mammifers in south america, and between those living on the continent and on adjoining islands, such as the galapagos. it occured to me that a collection of all such analogous facts would throw light either for or against the view of related species being co-descendants from a common stock. a long searching amongst agricultural and horticultural books and people makes me believe (i well know how absurdly presumptuous this must appear) that i see the way in which new varieties become exquisitely adapted to the external conditions of life and to other surrounding beings. i am a bold man to lay myself open to being thought a complete fool, and a most deliberate one. from the nature of the grounds which make me believe that species are mutable in form, these grounds cannot be restricted to the closest-allied species; but how far they extend i cannot tell, as my reasons fall away by degrees, when applied to species more and more remote from each other. pray do not think that i am so blind as not to see that there are numerous immense difficulties in my notions, but they appear to me less than on the common view. i have drawn up a sketch and had it copied (in pages) of my conclusions; and if i thought at some future time that you would think it worth reading, i should, of course, be most thankful to have the criticism of so competent a critic. excuse this very long and egotistical and ill-written letter, which by your remarks you had led me into, and believe me, yours very truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to l. jenyns (blomefield). down, october th, . dear jenyns, i have taken a most ungrateful length of time in thanking you for your very kind present of your 'observations.' but i happened to have had in hand several other books, and have finished yours only a few days ago. i found it very pleasant reading, and many of your facts interested me much. i think i was more interested, which is odd, with your notes on some of the lower animals than on the higher ones. the introduction struck me as very good; but this is what i expected, for i well remember being quite delighted with a preliminary essay to the first number of the 'annals of natural history.' i missed one discussion, and think myself ill-used, for i remember your saying you would make some remarks on the weather and barometer, as a guide for the ignorant in prediction. i had also hoped to have perhaps met with some remarks on the amount of variation in our common species. andrew smith once declared he would get some hundreds of specimens of larks and sparrows from all parts of great britain, and see whether, with finest measurements, he could detect any proportional variations in beaks or limbs, etc. this point interests me from having lately been skimming over the absurdly opposite conclusions of gloger and brehm; the one making half-a-dozen species out of every common bird, and the other turning so many reputed species into one. have you ever done anything of this kind, or have you ever studied gloger's or brehm's works? i was interested in your account of the martins, for i had just before been utterly perplexed by noticing just such a proceeding as you describe: i counted seven, one day lately, visiting a single nest and sticking dirt on the adjoining wall. i may mention that i once saw some squirrels eagerly splitting those little semi-transparent spherical galls on the back of oak-leaves for the maggot within; so that they are insectivorous. a cychrus rostratus once squirted into my eyes and gave me extreme pain; and i must tell you what happened to me on the banks of the cam, in my early entomological days: under a piece of bark i found two carabi (i forget which), and caught one in each hand, when lo and behold i saw a sacred panagaeus crux major! i could not bear to give up either of my carabi, and to lose panagaeus was out of the question; so that in despair i gently seized one of the carabi between my teeth, when to my unspeakable disgust and pain the little inconsiderate beast squirted his acid down my throat, and i lost both carabi and panagaeus! i was quite astonished to hear of a terrestrial planaria; for about a year or two ago i described in the 'annals of natural history' several beautifully coloured terrestrial species of the southern hemisphere, and thought it quite a new fact. by the way, you speak of a sheep with a broken leg not having flukes: i have heard my father aver that a fever, or any serious accident, as a broken limb, will cause in a man all the intestinal worms to be evacuated. might not this possibly have been the case with the flukes in their early state? i hope you were none the worse for southampton (the meeting of the british association.); i wish i had seen you looking rather fatter. i enjoyed my week extremely, and it did me good. i missed you the last few days, and we never managed to see much of each other; but there were so many people there, that i for one hardly saw anything of any one. once again i thank you very cordially for your kind present, and the pleasure it has given me, and believe me, ever most truly yours, c. darwin. p.s.--i have quite forgotten to say how greatly interested i was with your discussion on the statistics of animals: when will natural history be so perfect that such points as you discuss will be perfectly known about any one animal? charles darwin to j.d. hooker. malvern, june [ ]. ...at last i am going to press with a small poor first-fruit of my confounded cirripedia, viz. the fossil pedunculate cirripedia. you ask what effect studying species has had on my variation theories; i do not think much--i have felt some difficulties more. on the other hand, i have been struck (and probably unfairly from the class) with the variability of every part in some slight degree of every species. when the same organ is rigorously compared in many individuals, i always find some slight variability, and consequently that the diagnosis of species from minute differences is always dangerous. i had thought the same parts of the same species more resemble (than they do anyhow in cirripedia) objects cast in the same mould. systematic work would be easy were it not for this confounded variation, which, however, is pleasant to me as a speculatist, though odious to me as a systematist. your remarks on the distinctness (so unpleasant to me) of the himalayan rubi, willows, etc., compared with those of northern [europe?], etc., are very interesting; if my rude species-sketch had any small share in leading you to these observations, it has already done good and ample service, and may lay its bones in the earth in peace. i never heard anything so strange as falconer's neglect of your letters; i am extremely glad you are cordial with him again, though it must have cost you an effort. falconer is a man one must love...may you prosper in every way, my dear hooker. your affectionate friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, wednesday [september, n.d.]. ...many thanks for your letter received yesterday, which, as always, set me thinking: i laughed at your attack at my stinginess in changes of level towards forbes (edward forbes, - , born in the isle of man. his best known work was his report on the distribution of marine animals at different depths in the mediterranean. an important memoir of his is referred to in my father's 'autobiography.' he held successively the posts of curator to the geological society's museum, and professor of natural history in the museum of practical geology; shortly before he died he was appointed professor of natural history in the university of edinburgh. he seems to have impressed his contemporaries as a man of strikingly versatile and vigorous mind. the above allusion to changes of level refers to forbes's tendency to explain the facts of geographical distribution by means of an active geological imagination.), being so liberal towards myself; but i must maintain, that i have never let down or upheaved our mother-earth's surface, for the sake of explaining any one phenomenon, and i trust i have very seldom done so without some distinct evidence. so i must still think it a bold step (perhaps a very true one) to sink into the depths of ocean, within the period of existing species, so large a tract of surface. but there is no amount or extent of change of level, which i am not fully prepared to admit, but i must say i should like better evidence, than the identity of a few plants, which possibly (i do not say probably) might have been otherwise transported. particular thanks for your attempt to get me a copy of 'l'espece' (probably godron's essay, published by the academy of nancy in - , and afterwards as a separate book in .), and almost equal thanks for your criticisms on him: i rather misdoubted him, and felt not much inclined to take as gospel his facts. i find this one of my greatest difficulties with foreign authors, viz. judging of their credibility. how painfully (to me) true is your remark, that no one has hardly a right to examine the question of species who has not minutely described many. i was, however, pleased to hear from owen (who is vehemently opposed to any mutability in species), that he thought it was a very fair subject, and that there was a mass of facts to be brought to bear on the question, not hitherto collected. my only comfort is (as i mean to attempt the subject), that i have dabbled in several branches of natural history, and seen good specific men work out my species, and know something of geology (an indispensable union); and though i shall get more kicks than half-pennies, i will, life serving, attempt my work. lamarck is the only exception, that i can think of, of an accurate describer of species at least in the invertebrate kingdom, who has disbelieved in permanent species, but he in his absurd though clever work has done the subject harm, as has mr. vestiges, and, as (some future loose naturalist attempting the same speculations will perhaps say) has mr. d... c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. my dear hooker, i have read your paper with great interest; it seems all very clear, and will form an admirable introduction to the new zealand flora, or to any flora in the world. how few generalizers there are among systematists; i really suspect there is something absolutely opposed to each other and hostile in the two frames of mind required for systematising and reasoning on large collections of facts. many of your arguments appear to me very well put, and, as far as my experience goes, the candid way in which you discuss the subject is unique. the whole will be very useful to me whenever i undertake my volume, though parts take the wind very completely out of my sails; it will be all nuts to me...for i have for some time determined to give the arguments on both sides (as far as i could), instead of arguing on the mutability side alone. in my own cirripedial work (by the way, thank you for the dose of soft solder; it does one--or at least me--a great deal of good)--in my own work i have not felt conscious that disbelieving in the mere permanence of species has made much difference one way or the other; in some few cases (if publishing avowedly on doctrine of non-permanence), i should not have affixed names, and in some few cases should have affixed names to remarkable varieties. certainly i have felt it humiliating, discussing and doubting, and examining over and over again, when in my own mind the only doubt has been whether the form varied to-day or yesterday (not to put too fine a point on it, as snagsby (in 'bleak house.') would say). after describing a set of forms as distinct species, tearing up my ms., and making them one species, tearing that up and making them separate, and then making them one again (which has happened to me), i have gnashed my teeth, cursed species, and asked what sin i had committed to be so punished. but i must confess that perhaps nearly the same thing would have happened to me on any scheme of work. i am heartily glad to hear your journal (sir j.d. hooker's 'himalayan journal.') is so much advanced; how magnificently it seems to be illustrated! an "oriental naturalist," with lots of imagination and not too much regard to facts, is just the man to discuss species! i think your title of 'a journal of a naturalist in the east' very good; but whether "in the himalaya" would not be better, i have doubted, for the east sounds rather vague... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [ ]. my dear hooker, i have no remarks at all worth sending you, nor, indeed, was it likely that i should, considering how perfect and elaborated an essay it is. ('new zealand flora,' .) as far as my judgment goes, it is the most important discussion on the points in question ever published. i can say no more. i agree with almost everything you say; but i require much time to digest an essay of such quality. it almost made me gloomy, partly from feeling i could not answer some points which theoretically i should have liked to have been different, and partly from seeing so far better done than i could have done, discussions on some points which i had intended to have taken up... i much enjoyed the slaps you have given to the provincial species-mongers. i wish i could have been of the slightest use: i have been deeply interested by the whole essay, and congratulate you on having produced a memoir which i believe will be memorable. i was deep in it when your most considerate note arrived, begging me not to hurry. i thank mrs. hooker and yourself most sincerely for your wish to see me. i will not let another summer pass without seeing you at kew, for indeed i should enjoy it much... you do me really more honour than i have any claim to, putting me in after lyell on ups and downs. in a year or two's time, when i shall be at my species book (if i do not break down), i shall gnash my teeth and abuse you for having put so many hostile facts so confoundedly well. ever yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, march th [ ]. my dear hooker, i had hoped that you would have had a little breathing-time after your journal, but this seems to be very far from the case; and i am the more obliged (and somewhat contrite) for the long letter received this morning, most juicy with news and most interesting to me in many ways. i am very glad indeed to hear of the reforms, etc., in the royal society. with respect to the club (the philosophical club, to which my father was elected (as professor bonney is good enough to inform me) on april , . he resigned his membership in . the club was founded in . the number of members being limited to , it was proposed to christen it "the club of ," but the name was never adopted. the nature of the club may be gathered from its first rule: "the purpose of the club is to promote as much as possible the scientific objects of the royal society; to facilitate intercourse between those fellows who are actively engaged in cultivating the various branches of natural science, and who have contributed to its progress; to increase the attendance at the evening meetings, and to encourage the contribution and discussion of papers." the club met for dinner (at first) at , and the chair was to be quitted at . , it being expected that members would go to the royal society. of late years the dinner has been at . , the society meeting in the afternoon.), i am deeply interested; only two or three days ago, i was regretting to my wife, how i was letting drop and being dropped by nearly all my acquaintances, and that i would endeavour to go oftener to london; i was not then thinking of the club, which, as far as any one thing goes, would answer my exact object in keeping up old and making some new acquaintances. i will therefore come up to london for every (with rare exceptions) club-day, and then my head, i think, will allow me on an average to go to every other meeting. but it is grievous how often any change knocks me up. i will further pledge myself, as i told lyell, to resign after a year, if i did not attend pretty often, so that i should at worst encumber the club temporarily. if you can get me elected, i certainly shall be very much pleased. very many thanks for answers about glaciers. i am very glad to hear of the second edition (of the himalayan journal.) so very soon; but am not surprised, for i have heard of several, in our small circle, reading it with very much pleasure. i shall be curious to hear what humboldt will say: it will, i should think, delight him, and meet with more praise from him than any other book of travels, for i cannot remember one, which has so many subjects in common with him. what a wonderful old fellow he is...by the way, i hope, when you go to hitcham, towards the end of may, you will be forced to have some rest. i am grieved to hear that all the bad symptoms have not left henslow; it is so strange and new to feel any uneasiness about his health. i am particularly obliged to you for sending me asa gray's letter; how very pleasantly he writes. to see his and your caution on the species-question ought to overwhelm me in confusion and shame; it does make me feel deuced uncomfortable...it is delightful to hear all that he says on agassiz: how very singular it is that so eminently clever a man, with such immense knowledge on many branches of natural history, should write as he does. lyell told me that he was so delighted with one of his (agassiz) lectures on progressive development, etc., etc., that he went to him afterwards and told him, "that it was so delightful, that he could not help all the time wishing it was true." i seldom see a zoological paper from north america, without observing the impress of agassiz's doctrines--another proof, by the way, of how great a man he is. i was pleased and surprised to see a. gray's remarks on crossing, obliterating varieties, on which, as you know, i have been collecting facts for these dozen years. how awfully flat i shall feel, if when i get my notes together on species, etc., etc., the whole thing explodes like an empty puff-ball. do not work yourself to death. ever yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. my dear hooker, i was delighted to get your note yesterday. i congratulate you very heartily (on the award to him of the royal society's medal.), and whether you care much or little, i rejoice to see the highest scientific judgment-court in great britain recognise your claims. i do hope mrs. hooker is pleased, and e. desires me particularly to send her cordial congratulations ...i pity you from the very bottom of my heart about your after-dinner speech, which i fear i shall not hear. without you have a very much greater soul than i have (and i believe that you have), you will find the medal a pleasant little stimulus, when work goes badly, and one ruminates that all is vanity, it is pleasant to have some tangible proof, that others have thought something of one's labours. good-bye my dear hooker, i can assure [you] that we both most truly enjoyed your and mrs. hooker's visit here. farewell. my dear hooker, your sincere friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. march [ ]. ...i have just finished working well at wollaston's (thomas vernon wollaston died (in his fifty-seventh year, as i believe) on january , . his health forcing him in early manhood to winter in the south, he devoted himself to a study of the coleoptera of madeira, the cape de verdes, and st. helena, whence he deduced evidence in support of the belief in the submerged continent of 'atlantis.' in an obituary notice by mr. rye ('nature,' ) he is described as working persistently "upon a broad conception of the science to which he was devoted," while being at the same time "accurate, elaborate, and precise ad punctum, and naturally of a minutely critical habit." his first scientific paper was written when he was an undergraduate at jesus college, cambridge. while at the university, he was an associate and afterwards a member of the ray club: this is a small society which still meets once a week, and where the undergraduate members, or associates, receive much kindly encouragement from their elders.) 'insecta maderensia': it is an admirable work. there is a very curious point in the astounding proportion of coleoptera that are apterous; and i think i have guessed the reason, viz., that powers of flight would be injurious to insects inhabiting a confined locality, and expose them to be blown to the sea: to test this, i find that the insects inhabiting the dezerte grande, a quite small islet, would be still more exposed to this danger, and here the proportion of apterous insects is even considerably greater than on madeira proper. wollaston speaks of madeira and the other archipelagoes as being "sure and certain witnesses of forbes' old continent," and of course the entomological world implicitly follows this view. but to my eyes it would be difficult to imagine facts more opposed to such a view. it is really disgusting and humiliating to see directly opposite conclusions drawn from the same facts. i have had some correspondence with wollaston on this and other subjects, and i find that he coolly assumes, ( ) that formerly insects possessed greater migratory powers than now, ( ) that the old land was specially rich in centres of creation, ( ) that the uniting land was destroyed before the special creations had time to diffuse, and ( ) that the land was broken down before certain families and genera had time to reach from europe or africa the points of land in question. are not these a jolly lot of assumptions? and yet i shall see for the next dozen or score of years wollaston quoted as proving the former existence of poor forbes' atlantis. i hope i have not wearied you, but i thought you would like to hear about this book, which strikes me as excellent in its facts, and the author a most nice and modest man. most truly yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, march th [ ]. my dear fox, how long it is since we have had any communication, and i really want to hear how the world goes with you; but my immediate object is to ask you to observe a point for me, and as i know now you are a very busy man with too much to do, i shall have a good chance of your doing what i want, as it would be hopeless to ask a quite idle man. as you have a noah's ark, i do not doubt that you have pigeons. (how i wish by any chance they were fantails!) now what i want to know is, at what age nestling pigeons have their tail feathers sufficiently developed to be counted. i do not think i ever saw a young pigeon. i am hard at work at my notes collecting and comparing them, in order in some two or three years to write a book with all the facts and arguments, which i can collect, for and versus the immutability of species. i want to get the young of our domestic breeds, to see how young, and to what degree the differences appear. i must either breed myself (which is no amusement but a horrid bore to me) the pigeons or buy their young; and before i go to a seller, whom i have heard of from yarrell, i am really anxious to know something about their development, not to expose my excessive ignorance, and therefore be excessively liable to be cheated and gulled. with respect to the one point of the tail feathers, it is of course in relation to the wonderful development of tail feathers in the adult fantail. if you had any breed of poultry pure, i would beg a chicken with exact age stated, about a week or fortnight old! to be sent in a box by post, if you could have the heart to kill one; and secondly, would let me pay postage...indeed, i should be very glad to have a nestling common pigeon sent, for i mean to make skeletons, and have already just begun comparing wild and tame ducks. and i think the results rather curious ("i have just been testing practically what disuse does in reducing parts; i have made skeleton of wild and tame duck (oh, the smell of well-boiled, high duck!!) and i find the tame-duck wing ought, according to scale of wild prototype, to have its two wings grains in weight, but it has it only ."--a letter to sir j. hooker, .), for on weighing the several bones very carefully, when perfectly cleaned the proportional weights of the two have greatly varied, the foot of the tame having largely increased. how i wish i could get a little wild duck of a week old, but that i know is almost impossible. with respect to ourselves, i have not much to say; we have now a terribly noisy house with the whooping cough, but otherwise are all well. far the greatest fact about myself is that i have at last quite done with the everlasting barnacles. at the end of the year we had two of our little boys very ill with fever and bronchitis, and all sorts of ailments. partly for amusement, and partly for change of air, we went to london and took a house for a month, but it turned out a great failure, for that dreadful frost just set in when we went, and all our children got unwell, and e. and i had coughs and colds and rheumatism nearly all the time. we had put down first on our list of things to do, to go and see mrs. fox, but literally after waiting some time to see whether the weather would not improve, we had not a day when we both could go out. i do hope before very long you will be able to manage to pay us a visit. time is slipping away, and we are getting oldish. do tell us about yourself and all your large family. i know you will help me if you can with information about the young pigeons; and anyhow do write before very long. my dear fox, your sincere old friend, c. darwin. p.s.--amongst all sorts of odds and ends, with which i am amusing myself, i am comparing the seeds of the variations of plants. i had formerly some wild cabbage seeds, which i gave to some one, was it to you? it is a thousand to one it was thrown away, if not i should be very glad of a pinch of it. [the following extract from a letter to mr. fox (march th, ) refers to the same subject as the last letter, and gives some account of the "species work:" "the way i shall kill young things will be to put them under a tumbler glass with a teaspoon of ether or chloroform, the glass being pressed down on some yielding surface, and leave them for an hour or two, young have such power of revivication. (i have thus killed moths and butterflies.) the best way would be to send them as you procure them, in pasteboard chip-box by post, on which you could write and just tie up with string; and you will really make me happier by allowing me to keep an account of postage, etc. upon my word i can hardly believe that any one could be so good-natured as to take such trouble and do such a very disagreeable thing as kill babies; and i am very sure i do not know one soul who, except yourself, would do so. i am going to ask one thing more; should old hens of any above poultry (not duck) die or become so old as to be useless, i wish you would send her to me per rail, addressed to c. darwin, care of mr. acton, post-office, bromley, kent." will you keep this address? as shortest way for parcels. but i do not care so much for this, as i could buy the old birds dead at baily to make skeletons. i should have written at once even if i had not heard from you, to beg you not to take trouble about pigeons, for yarrell has persuaded me to attempt it, and i am now fitting up a place, and have written to baily about prices, etc., etc. sometime (when you are better) i should like very much to hear a little about your "little call duck"; why so-called? and where you got it? and what it is like?... i was so ignorant i do not even know there were three varieties of dorking fowl: how do they differ?... i forget whether i ever told you what the object of my present work is,--it is to view all facts that i can master (eheu, eheu, how ignorant i find i am) in natural history (as on geographical distribution, palaeontology, classification, hybridism, domestic animals and plants, etc., etc., etc.) to see how far they favour or are opposed to the notion that wild species are mutable or immutable: i mean with my utmost power to give all arguments and facts on both sides. i have a number of people helping me in every way, and giving me most valuable assistance; but i often doubt whether the subject will not quite overpower me. so much for the quasi-business part of my letter. i am very very sorry to hear so indifferent account of your health: with your large family your life is very precious, and i am sure with all your activity and goodness it ought to be a happy one, or as happy as can reasonably be expected with all the cares of futurity on one. one cannot expect the present to be like the old crux-major days at the foot of those noble willow stumps, the memory of which i revere. i now find my little entomology which i wholly owe to you, comes in very useful. i am very glad to hear that you have given yourself a rest from sunday duties. how much illness you have had in your life! farewell my dear fox. i assure you i thank you heartily for your proffered assistance.] charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, may th [ ]. my dear fox, my correspondence has cost you a deal of trouble, though this note will not. i found yours on my return home on saturday after a week's work in london. whilst there i saw yarrell, who told me he had carefully examined all points in the call duck, and did not feel any doubt about it being specifically identical, and that it had crossed freely with common varieties in st. james's park. i should therefore be very glad for a seven-days' duckling and for one of the old birds, should one ever die a natural death. yarrell told me that sabine had collected forty varieties of the common duck!...well, to return to business; nobody, i am sure, could fix better for me than you the characteristic age of little chickens; with respect to skeletons, i have feared it would be impossible to make them, but i suppose i shall be able to measure limbs, etc., by feeling the joints. what you say about old cocks just confirms what i thought, and i will make my skeletons of old cocks. should an old wild turkey ever die, please remember me; i do not care for a baby turkey, nor for a mastiff. very many thanks for your offer. i have puppies of bull-dogs and greyhound in salt, and i have had cart-horse and race-horse young colts carefully measured. whether i shall do any good i doubt. i am getting out of my depth. most truly yours, c. darwin. [an extract from a letter to mr. fox may find a place here, though of a later date, viz. july, ]: "many thanks for the seven days' old white dorking, and for the other promised ones. i am getting quite a 'chamber of horrors,' i appreciate your kindness even more than before; for i have done the black deed and murdered an angelic little fantail and pouter at ten days old. i tried chloroform and ether for the first, and though evidently a perfectly easy death, it was prolonged; and for the second i tried putting lumps of cyanide of potassium in a very large damp bottle, half an hour before putting in the pigeon, and the prussic acid gas thus generated was very quickly fatal." a letter to mr. fox (may rd, ) gives the first mention of my father's laborious piece of work on the breeding of pigeons: "i write now to say that i have been looking at some of our mongrel chickens, and i should say one week old would do very well. the chief points which i am, and have been for years, very curious about, is to ascertain whether the young of our domestic breeds differ as much from each other as do their parents, and i have no faith in anything short of actual measurement and the rule of three. i hope and believe i am not giving so much trouble without a motive of sufficient worth. i have got my fantails and pouters (choice birds, i hope, as i paid shillings for each pair from baily) in a grand cage and pigeon-house, and they are a decided amusement to me, and delight to h." in the course of my father's pigeon-fancying enterprise he necessarily became acquainted with breeders, and was fond of relating his experiences as a member of the columbarian and philoperistera clubs, where he met the purest enthusiasts of the "fancy," and learnt much of the mysteries of their art. in writing to mr. huxley some years afterwards, he quotes from a book on 'pigeons' by mr. j. eaton, in illustration of the "extreme attention and close observation" necessary to be a good fancier. "in his [mr. eaton's] treatise, devoted to the almond tumbler alone, which is a sub-variety of the short-faced variety, which is a variety of the tumbler, as that is of the rock-pigeon, mr. eaton says: 'there are some of the young fanciers who are over-covetous, who go for all the five properties at once [i.e., the five characteristic points which are mainly attended to,--c.d.], they have their reward by getting nothing.' in short, it is almost beyond the human intellect to attend to all the excellencies of the almond tumbler! "to be a good breeder, and to succeed in improving any breed, beyond everything enthusiasm is required. mr. eaton has gained lots of prizes, listen to him. "'if it was possible for noblemen and gentlemen to know the amazing amount of solace and pleasure derived from the almond tumbler, when they begin to understand their (i.e., the tumbler's) properties, i should think that scarce any nobleman or gentleman would be without their aviaries of almond tumblers.'" my father was fond of quoting this passage, and always with a tone of fellow-feeling for the author, though, no doubt, he had forgotten his own wonderings as a child that "every gentleman did not become an ornithologist."--('autobiography,' page .) to mr. w.b. tegetmeier, the well-known writer on poultry, etc., he was indebted for constant advice and co-operation. their correspondence began in , and lasted to , when my father wrote: "i can assure you that i often look back with pleasure to the old days when i attended to pigeons, fowls, etc., and when you gave me such valuable assistance. i not rarely regret that i have had so little strength that i have not been able to keep up old acquaintances and friendships." my father's letters to mr. tegetmeier consist almost entirely of series of questions relating to the different breeds of fowls, pigeons, etc., and are not, therefore interesting. in reading through the pile of letters, one is much struck by the diligence of the writer's search for facts, and it is made clear that mr. tegetmeier's knowledge and judgment were completely trusted and highly valued by him. numerous phrases, such as "your note is a mine of wealth to me," occur, expressing his sense of the value of mr. tegetmeier's help, as well as words expressing his warm appreciation of mr. tegetmeier's unstinting zeal and kindness, or his "pure and disinterested love of science." on the subject of hive-bees and their combs, mr. tegetmeier's help was also valued by my father, who wrote, "your paper on 'bees-cells,' read before the british association, was highly useful and suggestive to me." to work out the problems on the geographical distributions of animals and plants on evolutionary principles, he had to study the means by which seeds, eggs, etc., can be transported across wide spaces of ocean. it was this need which gave an interest to the class of experiment to which the following letters allude.] charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, may th [ ]. my dear fox, you will hate the very sight of my hand-writing; but after this time i promise i will ask for nothing more, at least for a long time. as you live on sandy soil, have you lizards at all common? if you have, should you think it too ridiculous to offer a reward for me for lizard's eggs to the boys in your school; a shilling for every half-dozen, or more if rare, till you got two or three dozen and send them to me? if snake's eggs were brought in mistake it would be very well, for i want such also; and we have neither lizards nor snakes about here. my object is to see whether such eggs will float on sea water, and whether they will keep alive thus floating for a month or two in my cellar. i am trying experiments on transportation of all organic beings that i can; and lizards are found on every island, and therefore i am very anxious to see whether their eggs stand sea water. of course this note need not be answered, without, by a strange and favourable chance, you can some day answer it with the eggs. your most troublesome friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. april th [ ]. ...i have had one experiment some little time in progress, which will, i think, be interesting, namely, seeds in salt water immersed in water of - degrees, which i have and shall long have, as i filled a great tank with snow. when i wrote last i was going to triumph over you, for my experiment had in a slight degree succeeded; but this, with infinite baseness, i did not tell, in hopes that you would say that you would eat all the plants which i could raise after immersion. it is very aggravating that i cannot in the least remember what you did formerly say that made me think you scoffed at the experiments vastly; for you now seem to view the experiment like a good christian. i have in small bottles out of doors, exposed to variation of temperature, cress, radish, cabbages, lettuces, carrots, and celery, and onion seed--four great families. these, after immersion for exactly one week, have all germinated, which i did not in the least expect (and thought how you would sneer at me); for the water of nearly all, and of the cress especially, smelt very badly, and the cress seed emitted a wonderful quantity of mucus (the 'vestiges' would have expected them to turn into tadpoles), so as to adhere in a mass; but these seeds germinated and grew splendidly. the germination of all (especially cress and lettuces) has been accelerated, except the cabbages, which have come up very irregularly, and a good many, i think, dead. one would have thought, from their native habitat, that the cabbage would have stood well. the umbelliferae and onions seem to stand the salt well. i wash the seed before planting them. i have written to the "gardeners' chronicle" (a few words asking for information. the results were published in the 'gardeners' chronicle,' may , november , . in the same year (page ) he sent a p.s. to his former paper, correcting a misprint and adding a few words on the seeds of the leguminosae. a fuller paper on the germination of seeds after treatment in salt water, appeared in the 'linnaean soc. journal,' , page .), though i doubt whether it was worth while. if my success seems to make it worth while, i will send a seed list, to get you to mark some different classes of seeds. to-day i replant the same seeds as above after fourteen days' immersion. as many sea-currents go a mile an hour, even in a week they might be transported miles; the gulf stream is said to go fifty and sixty miles a day. so much and too much on this head; but my geese are always swans... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [april th, .] ...you are a good man to confess that you expected the cress would be killed in a week, for this gives me a nice little triumph. the children at first were tremendously eager, and asked me often, "whether i should beat dr. hooker!" the cress and lettuce have just vegetated well after twenty-one days' immersion. but i will write no more, which is a great virtue in me; for it is to me a very great pleasure telling you everything i do. ...if you knew some of the experiments (if they may be so-called) which i am trying, you would have a good right to sneer, for they are so absurd even in my opinion that i dare not tell you. have not some men a nice notion of experimentising? i have had a letter telling me that seeds must have great power of resisting salt water, for otherwise how could they get to islands? this is the true way to solve a problem! charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. my dear hooker, you have been a very good man to exhale some of your satisfaction in writing two notes to me; you could not have taken a better line in my opinion; but as for showing your satisfaction in confounding my experiments, i assure you i am quite enough confounded--those horrid seeds, which, as you truly observe, if they sink they won't float. i have written to scoresby and have had a rather dry answer, but very much to the purpose, and giving me no hopes of any law unknown to me which might arrest their everlasting descent into the deepest depths of the ocean. by the way it was very odd, but i talked to col. sabine for half an hour on the subject, and could not make him see with respect to transportal the difficulty of the sinking question! the bore is, if the confounded seeds will sink, i have been taking all this trouble in salting the ungrateful rascals for nothing. everything has been going wrong with me lately; the fish at the zoological society ate up lots of soaked seeds, and in imagination they had in my mind been swallowed, fish and all, by a heron, had been carried a hundred miles, been voided on the banks of some other lake and germinated splendidly, when lo and behold, the fish ejected vehemently, and with disgust equal to my own, all the seeds from their mouths. (in describing these troubles to mr. fox, my father wrote:--"all nature is perverse and will not do as i wish it; and just at present i wish i had my old barnacles to work at, and nothing new." the experiment ultimately succeeded, and he wrote to sir j. hooker:--"i find fish will greedily eat seeds of aquatic grasses, and that millet-seed put into fish and given to a stork, and then voided, will germinate. so this is the nursery rhyme of 'this is the stick that beats the pig,' etc., etc.,") but i am not going to give up the floating yet: in first place i must try fresh seeds, though of course it seems far more probable that they will sink; and secondly, as a last resource, i must believe in the pod or even whole plant or branch being washed into the sea; with floods and slips and earthquakes; this must continually be happening, and if kept wet, i fancy the pods, etc. etc., would not open and shed their seeds. do try your mimosa seed at kew. i had intended to have asked you whether the mimosa scandens and guilandina bonduc grows at kew, to try fresh seeds. r. brown tells me he believes four w. indian seeds have been washed on shores of europe. i was assured at keeling island that seeds were not rarely washed on shore: so float they must and shall! what a long yarn i have been spinning. if you have several of the loffoden seeds, do soak some in tepid water, and get planted with the utmost care: this is an experiment after my own heart, with chances to against its success. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. my dear hooker,--i have just received your note. i am most sincerely and heartily glad at the news (the appointment of sir j.d. hooker as assistant director of the royal gardens at kew.) it contains, and so is my wife. though the income is but a poor one, yet the certainty, i hope, is satisfactory to yourself and mrs. hooker. as it must lead in future years to the directorship, i do hope you look at it, as a piece of good fortune. for my own taste i cannot fancy a pleasanter position, than the head of such a noble and splendid place; far better, i should think, than a professorship in a great town. the more i think of it, the gladder i am. but i will say no more; except that i hope mrs. hooker is pretty well pleased... as the "gardeners' chronicle" put in my question, and took notice of it, i think i am bound to send, which i had thought of doing next week, my first report to lindley to give him the option of inserting it; but i think it likely that he may not think it fit for a gardening periodical. when my experiments are ended (should the results appear worthy) and should the 'linnean journal' not object to the previous publication of imperfect and provisional reports, i should be delighted to insert the final report there; for it has cost me so much trouble, that i should think that probably the result was worthy of more permanent record than a newspaper; but i think i am bound to send it first to lindley. i begin to think the floating question more serious than the germinating one; and am making all the inquiries which i can on the subject, and hope to get some little light on it... i hope you managed a good meeting at the club. the treasurership must be a plague to you, and i hope you will not be treasurer for long: i know i would much sooner give up the club than be its treasurer. farewell, mr. assistant director and dear friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. june th, . ...miss thorley (a lady who was for many years a governess in the family.) and i are doing a little botanical work! for our amusement, and it does amuse me very much, viz., making a collection of all the plants, which grow in a field, which has been allowed to run waste for fifteen years, but which before was cultivated from time immemorial; and we are also collecting all the plants in an adjoining and similar but cultivated field; just for the fun of seeing what plants have survived or died out. hereafter we shall want a bit of help in naming puzzlers. how dreadfully difficult it is to name plants. what a remarkably nice and kind letter dr. a. gray has sent me in answer to my troublesome queries; i retained your copy of his 'manual' till i heard from him, and when i have answered his letter, i will return it to you. i thank you much for hedysarum: i do hope it is not very precious, for as i told you it is for probably a most foolish purpose. i read somewhere that no plant closes its leaves so promptly in darkness, and i want to cover it up daily for half an hour, and see if i can teach it to close by itself, or more easily than at first in darkness...i cannot make out why you would prefer a continental transmission, as i think you do, to carriage by sea. i should have thought you would have been pleased at as many means of transmission as possible. for my own pet theoretic notions, it is quite indifferent whether they are transmitted by sea or land, as long as some tolerably probable way is shown. but it shocks my philosophy to create land, without some other and independent evidence. whenever we meet, by a very few words i should, i think, more clearly understand your views... i have just made out my first grass, hurrah! hurrah! i must confess that fortune favours the bold, for, as good luck would have it, it was the easy anthoxanthum odoratum: nevertheless it is a great discovery; i never expected to make out a grass in all my life, so hurrah! it has done my stomach surprising good... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [june?] th, [ ]. my dear hooker, i just write one line to say that the hedysarum is come quite safely, and thank you for it. you cannot imagine what amusement you have given me by naming those three grasses: i have just got paper to dry and collect all grasses. if ever you catch quite a beginner, and want to give him a taste of botany, tell him to make a perfect list of some little field or wood. both miss thorley and i agree that it gives a really uncommon interest to the work, having a nice little definite world to work on, instead of the awful abyss and immensity of all british plants. adios. i was really consummately impudent to express my opinion "on the retrograde step" ("to imagine such enormous geological changes within the period of the existence of now living beings, on no other ground but to account for their distribution, seems to me, in our present state of ignorance on the means of transportal, an almost retrograde step in science."--extract from the paper on 'salt water and seeds' in "gardeners' chronicle", may , .), and i deserved a good snub, and upon reflection i am very glad you did not answer me in "gardeners' chronicle". i have been very much interested with the florula. (godron's 'florula juvenalis,' which gives an interesting account of plants introduced in imported wool.) [writing on june th to sir j.d. hooker, my father mentions a letter from dr. asa gray. the letter referred to was an answer to the following:] charles darwin to asa gray. (the well-known american botanist. my father's friendship with dr. gray began with the correspondence of which the present is the first letter. an extract from a letter to sir j. hooker, , shows that my father's strong personal regard for dr. gray had an early origin: "i have been glad to see a. gray's letters; there is always something in them that shows that he is a very lovable man.") down, april th [ ]. my dear sir, i hope that you will remember that i had the pleasure of being introduced to you at kew. i want to beg a great favour of you, for which i well know i can offer no apology. but the favour will not, i think, cause you much trouble, and will greatly oblige me. as i am no botanist, it will seem so absurd to you my asking botanical questions; that i may premise that i have for several years been collecting facts on "variation," and when i find that any general remark seems to hold good amongst animals, i try to test it in plants. [here follows a request for information on american alpine plants, and a suggestion as to publishing on the subject.] i can assure you that i perceive how presumptuous it is in me, not a botanist, to make even the most trifling suggestion to such a botanist as yourself; but from what i saw and have heard of you from our dear and kind friend hooker, i hope and think you will forgive me, and believe me, with much respect, dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, june th [ ]. my dear sir, i thank you cordially for your remarkably kind letter of the d. ult., and for the extremely pleasant and obliging manner in which you have taken my rather troublesome questions. i can hardly tell you how much your list of alpine plants has interested me, and i can now in some degree picture to myself the plants of your alpine summits. the new edition of your manual is capital news for me. i know from your preface how pressed you are for room, but it would take no space to append (eu) in brackets to any european plant, and, as far as i am concerned, this would answer every purpose. (this suggestion dr. gray adopted in subsequent editions.) from my own experience, whilst making out english plants in our manuals, it has often struck me how much interest it would give if some notion of their range had been given; and so, i cannot doubt, your american inquirers and beginners would much like to know which of their plants were indigenous and which european. would it not be well in the alpine plants to append the very same addition which you have now sent me in ms.? though here, owing to your kindness, i do not speak selfishly, but merely pro bono americano publico. i presume it would be too troublesome to give in your manual the habitats of those plants found west of the rocky mountains, and likewise those found in eastern asia, taking the yenesei (?),--which, if i remember right, according to gmelin, is the main partition line of siberia. perhaps siberia more concerns the northern flora of north america. the ranges of plants to the east and west, viz., whether most found are in greenland and western europe, or in e. asia, appears to me a very interesting point as tending to show whether the migration has been eastward or westward. pray believe me that i am most entirely conscious that the only use of these remarks is to show a botanist what points a non-botanist is curious to learn; for i think every one who studies profoundly a subject often becomes unaware [on] what points the ignorant require information. i am so very glad that you think of drawing up some notice on your geographical distribution, for the air of the manual strikes me as in some points better adapted for comparison with europe than that of the whole of north america. you ask me to state definitely some of the points on which i much wish for information; but i really hardly can, for they are so vague; and i rather wish to see what results will come out from comparisons, than have as yet defined objects. i presume that, like other botanists, you would give, for your area, the proportion (leaving out introduced plants) to the whole of the great leading families: this is one point i had intended (and, indeed, have done roughly) to tabulate from your book, but of course i could have done it only very imperfectly. i should also, of course, have ascertained the proportion, to the whole flora, of the european plants (leaving out introduced) and of the separate great families, in order to speculate on means of transportal. by the way, i ventured to send a few days ago a copy of the "gardeners' chronicle" with a short report by me of some trifling experiments which i have been trying on the power of seeds to withstand sea water. i do not know whether it has struck you, but it has me, that it would be advisable for botanists to give in whole numbers, as well as in the lowest fraction, the proportional numbers of the families, thus i make out from your manual that of the indigenous plants the proportion of the umbelliferae are / = / ; for, without one knows the whole numbers, one cannot judge how really close the numbers of the plants of the same family are in two distant countries; but very likely you may think this superfluous. mentioning these proportional numbers, i may give you an instance of the sort of points, and how vague and futile they often are, which i attempt to work out...; reflecting on r. brown's and hooker's remark, that near identity of proportional numbers of the great families in two countries, shows probably that they were once continuously united, i thought i would calculate the proportions of, for instance, the introduced compositae in great britain to all the introduced plants, and the result was, / = / . . in our aboriginal or indigenous flora the proportion is / ; and in many other cases i found an equally striking correspondence. i then took your manual, and worked out the same question; here i find in the compositae an almost equally striking correspondence, viz. / = / in the introduced plants, and / = / in the indigenous; but when i came to the other families i found the proportion entirely different, showing that the coincidences in the british flora were probably accidental! you will, i presume, give the proportion of the species to the genera, i.e., show on an average how many species each genus contains; though i have done this for myself. if it would not be too troublesome, do you not think it would be very interesting, and give a very good idea of your flora, to divide the species into three groups, viz., (a) species common to the old world, stating numbers common to europe and asia; (b) indigenous species, but belonging to genera found in the old world; and (c) species belonging to genera confined to america or the new world. to make (according to my ideas) perfection perfect, one ought to be told whether there are other cases, like erica, of genera common in europe or in old world not found in your area. but honestly i feel that it is quite ridiculous my writing to you at such length on the subject; but, as you have asked me, i do it gratefully, and write to you as i should to hooker, who often laughs at me unmercifully, and i am sure you have better reason to do so. there is one point on which i am most anxious for information, and i mention it with the greatest hesitation, and only in the full belief that you will believe me that i have not the folly and presumption to hope for a second that you will give it, without you can with very little trouble. the point can at present interest no one but myself, which makes the case wholly different from geographical distribution. the only way in which, i think, you possibly could do it with little trouble would be to bear in mind, whilst correcting your proof-sheets of the manual, my question and put a cross or mark to the species, and whenever sending a parcel to hooker to let me have such old sheets. but this would give you the trouble of remembering my question, and i can hardly hope or expect that you will do it. but i will just mention what i want; it is to have marked the "close species" in a flora, so as to compare in different floras whether the same genera have "close species," and for other purposes too vague to enumerate. i have attempted, by hooker's help, to ascertain in a similar way whether the different species of the same genera in distant quarters of the globe are variable or present varieties. the definition i should give of a "close species" was one that you thought specifically distinct, but which you could conceive some other good botanist might think only a race or variety; or, again, a species that you had trouble, though having opportunities of knowing it well, in discriminating from some other species. supposing that you were inclined to be so very kind as to do this, and could (which i do not expect) spare the time, as i have said, a mere cross to each such species in any useless proof-sheets would give me the information desired, which, i may add, i know must be vague. how can i apologise enough for all my presumption and the extreme length of this letter? the great good nature of your letter to me has been partly the cause, so that, as is too often the case in this world, you are punished for your good deeds. with hearty thanks, believe me, yours very truly and gratefully, ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, th [july, ]. ...i think i am getting a mild case about charlock seed (in the "gardeners' chronicle", , page , appeared a notice (half a column in length) by my father on the "vitality of seeds." the facts related refer to the "sand-walk"; the wood was planted in on a piece of pasture land laid down as grass in . in , on the soil being dug in several places, charlock (brassica sinapistrum) sprang up freely. the subject continued to interest him, and i find a note dated july nd, , in which my father recorded that forty-six plants of charlock sprang up in that year over a space ( x feet) which had been dug to a considerable depth.); but just as about salting, ill-luck to it, i cannot remember how many years you would allow that charlock seed might live in the ground. next time you write, show a bold face, and say in how many years, you think, charlock seed would probably all be dead. a man told me the other day of, as i thought, a splendid instance,--and splendid it was, for according to his evidence the seed came up alive out of the lower part of the london clay!! i disgusted him by telling him that palms ought to have come up. you ask how far i go in attributing organisms to a common descent; i answer i know not; the way in which i intend treating the subject, is to show (as far as i can) the facts and arguments for and against the common descent of the species of the same genus; and then show how far the same arguments tell for or against forms, more and more widely different: and when we come to forms of different orders and classes, there remain only some such arguments as those which can perhaps be deduced from similar rudimentary structures, and very soon not an argument is left. [the following extract from a letter to mr. fox [october, (in this year he published ('phil. mag.' x.) a paper 'on the power of icebergs to make rectilinear uniformly-directed grooves across a submarine undulatory surface.'") gives a brief mention of the last meeting of the british association which he attended:] "i really have no news: the only thing we have done for a long time, was to go to glasgow; but the fatigue was to me more than it was worth, and e. caught a bad cold. on our return we stayed a single day at shrewsbury, and enjoyed seeing the old place. i saw a little of sir philip (sir p. egerton was a neighbour of mr. fox.) (whom i liked much), and he asked me "why on earth i instigated you to rob his poultry-yard?' the meeting was a good one, and the duke of argyll spoke excellently."] chapter .xii. -- the unfinished book. may to june . [in the autobiographical chapter (page ,) my father wrote:--"early in lyell advised me to write out my views pretty fully, and i began at once to do so on a scale three or four times as extensive as that which was afterwards followed in my 'origin of species;' yet it was only an abstract of the materials which i had collected." the letters in the present chapter are chiefly concerned with the preparation of this unfinished book. the work was begun on may th, and steadily continued up to june , when it was interrupted by the arrival of mr. wallace's ms. during the two years which we are now considering he wrote ten chapters (that is about one-half) of the projected book. he remained for the most part at home, but paid several visits to dr. lane's water-cure establishment at moor park, during one of which he made a pilgrimage to the shrine of gilbert white at selborne.] letters. charles darwin to c. lyell may [ ]. ...with respect to your suggestion of a sketch of my views, i hardly know what to think, but will reflect on it, but it goes against my prejudices. to give a fair sketch would be absolutely impossible, for every proposition requires such an array of facts. if i were to do anything, it could only refer to the main agency of change--selection--and perhaps point out a very few of the leading features, which countenance such a view, and some few of the main difficulties. but i do not know what to think; i rather hate the idea of writing for priority, yet i certainly should be vexed if any one were to publish my doctrines before me. anyhow, i thank you heartily for your sympathy. i shall be in london next week, and i will call on you on thursday morning for one hour precisely, so as not to lose much of your time and my own; but will you let me this time come as early as o'clock, for i have much which i must do in the morning in my strongest time? farewell, my dear old patron. yours, c. darwin. by the way, three plants have come up out of the earth, perfectly enclosed in the roots of the trees. and twenty-nine plants in the table-spoonful of mud, out of the little pond; hooker was surprised at this, and struck with it, when i showed him how much mud i had scraped off one duck's feet. if i did publish a short sketch, where on earth should i publish it? if i do not hear, i shall understand that i may come from to on thursday. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. may th, [ ]. ...i very much want advice and truthful consolation if you can give it. i had a good talk with lyell about my species work, and he urges me strongly to publish something. i am fixed against any periodical or journal, as i positively will not expose myself to an editor or a council, allowing a publication for which they might be abused. if i publish anything it must be a very thin and little volume, giving a sketch of my views and difficulties; but it is really dreadfully unphilosophical to give a resume, without exact references, of an unpublished work. but lyell seemed to think i might do this, at the suggestion of friends, and on the ground, which i might state, that i had been at work for eighteen (the interval of eighteen years, from when he began to collect facts, would bring the date of this letter to , not , nevertheless the latter seems the more probable date.) years, and yet could not publish for several years, and especially as i could point out difficulties which seemed to me to require especial investigation. now what think you? i should be really grateful for advice. i thought of giving up a couple of months and writing such a sketch, and trying to keep my judgment open whether or no to publish it when completed. it will be simply impossible for me to give exact references; anything important i should state on the authority of the author generally; and instead of giving all the facts on which i ground my opinion, i could give by memory only one or two. in the preface i would state that the work could not be considered strictly scientific, but a mere sketch or outline of a future work in which full references, etc. should be given. eheu, eheu, i believe i should sneer at any one else doing this, and my only comfort is, that i truly never dreamed of it, till lyell suggested it, and seems deliberately to think it advisable. i am in a peck of troubles and do pray forgive me for troubling you. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. may th [ ]. ...now for a more important! subject, viz., my own self: i am extremely glad you think well of a separate "preliminary essay" (i.e., if anything whatever is published; for lyell seemed rather to doubt on this head) (the meaning of the sentence in parentheses is obscure.); but i cannot bear the idea of begging some editor and council to publish, and then perhaps to have to apologise humbly for having led them into a scrape. in this one respect i am in the state which, according to a very wise saying of my father's, is the only fit state for asking advice, viz., with my mind firmly made up, and then, as my father used to say, good advice was very comfortable, and it was easy to reject bad advice. but heaven knows i am not in this state with respect to publishing at all any preliminary essay. it yet strikes me as quite unphilosophical to publish results without the full details which have lead to such results. it is a melancholy, and i hope not quite true view of yours that facts will prove anything, and are therefore superfluous! but i have rather exaggerated, i see, your doctrine. i do not fear being tied down to error, i.e., i feel pretty sure i should give up anything false published in the preliminary essay, in my larger work; but i may thus, it is very true, do mischief by spreading error, which as i have often heard you say is much easier spread than corrected. i confess i lean more and more to at least making the attempt and drawing up a sketch and trying to keep my judgment, whether to publish, open. but i always return to my fixed idea that it is dreadfully unphilosophical to publish without full details. i certainly think my future work in full would profit by hearing what my friends or critics (if reviewed) thought of the outline. to any one but you i should apologise for such long discussion on so personal an affair; but i believe, and indeed you have proved it by the trouble you have taken, that this would be superfluous. yours truly obliged, ch. darwin. p.s. what you say (for i have just re-read your letter) that the essay might supersede and take away all novelty and value from any future larger book, is very true; and that would grieve me beyond everything. on the other hand (again from lyell's urgent advice), i published a preliminary sketch of the coral theory, and this did neither good nor harm. i begin most heartily to wish that lyell had never put this idea of an essay into my head. from a letter to sir c. lyell [july, ]. "i am delighted that i may say (with absolute truth) that my essay is published at your suggestion, but i hope it will not need so much apology as i at first thought; for i have resolved to make it nearly as complete as my present materials allow. i cannot put in all which you suggest, for it would appear too conceited." from a letter to w.d. fox. down, june th [ ]. "...what you say about my essay, i dare say is very true; and it gave me another fit of the wibber-gibbers: i hope that i shall succeed in making it modest. one great motive is to get information on the many points on which i want it. but i tremble about it, which i should not do, if i allowed some three or four more years to elapse before publishing anything..." [the following extracts from letters to mr. fox are worth giving, as showing how great was the accumulation of material which now had to be dealt with. june th [ ]. "very many thanks for the capital information on cats; i see i had blundered greatly, but i know i had somewhere your original notes; but my notes are so numerous during nineteen years' collection, that it would take me at least a year to go over and classify them." november . "sometimes i fear i shall break down, for my subject gets bigger and bigger with each month's work."] charles darwin to c. lyell down, th [june, ]. my dear lyell, i am going to do the most impudent thing in the world. but my blood gets hot with passion and turns cold alternately at the geological strides, which many of your disciples are taking. here, poor forbes made a continent to [i.e., extending to] north america and another (or the same) to the gulf weed; hooker makes one from new zealand to south america and round the world to kerguelen land. here is wollaston speaking of madeira and p. santo "as the sure and certain witnesses of a former continent." here is woodward writes to me, if you grant a continent over or miles of ocean depths (as if that was nothing), why not extend a continent to every island in the pacific and atlantic oceans? and all this within the existence of recent species! if you do not stop this, if there be a lower region for the punishment of geologists, i believe, my great master, you will go there. why, your disciples in a slow and creeping manner beat all the old catastrophists who ever lived. you will live to be the great chief of the catastrophists. there, i have done myself a great deal of good, and have exploded my passion. so my master, forgive me, and believe me, ever yours, c. darwin. p.s. don't answer this, i did it to ease myself. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [june] th, . ...i have been very deeply interested by wollaston's book ('the variation of species,' .), though i differ greatly from many of his doctrines. did you ever read anything so rich, considering how very far he goes, as his denunciations against those who go further: "most mischievous," "absurd," "unsound." theology is at the bottom of some of this. i told him he was like calvin burning a heretic. it is a very valuable and clever book in my opinion. he has evidently read very little out of his own line. i urged him to read the new zealand essay. his geology also is rather eocene, as i told him. in fact i wrote most frankly; he says he is sure that ultra-honesty is my characteristic: i do not know whether he meant it as a sneer; i hope not. talking of eocene geology, i got so wrath about the atlantic continent, more especially from a note from woodward (who has published a capital book on shells), who does not seem to doubt that every island in the pacific and atlantic are the remains of continents, submerged within period of existing species, that i fairly exploded, and wrote to lyell to protest, and summed up all the continents created of late years by forbes (the head sinner!) yourself, wollaston, and woodward, and a pretty nice little extension of land they make altogether! i am fairly rabid on the question and therefore, if not wrong already, am pretty sure to become so... i have enjoyed your note much. adios, c. darwin. p.s. [june] th. lyell has written me a capital letter on your side, which ought to upset me entirely, but i cannot say it does quite. though i must try and cease being rabid and try to feel humble, and allow you all to make continents, as easily as a cook does pancakes. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, june th [ ]. my dear lyell, i will have the following tremendous letter copied to make the reading easier, and as i want to keep a copy. as you say you would like to hear my reasons for being most unwilling to believe in the continental extensions of late authors, i gladly write them, as, without i am convinced of my error, i shall have to give them condensed in my essay, when i discuss single and multiple creation; i shall therefore be particularly glad to have your general opinion on them. i may quite likely have persuaded myself in my wrath that there is more in them than there is. if there was much more reason to admit a continental extension in any one or two instances (as in madeira) than in other cases, i should feel no difficulty whatever. but if on account of european plants, and littoral sea shells, it is thought necessary to join madeira to the mainland, hooker is quite right to join new holland to new zealand, and auckland island (and raoul island to n.e.), and these to s. america and the falklands, and these to tristan d'acunha, and these to kerguelen land; thus making, either strictly at the same time, or at different periods, but all within the life of recent beings, an almost circumpolar belt of land. so again galapagos and juan fernandez must be joined to america; and if we trust to littoral see shells, the galapagos must have been joined to the pacific islands ( miles distant) as well as to america, and as woodward seems to think all the islands in the pacific into a magnificent continent; also the islands in the southern indian ocean into another continent, with madagascar and africa, and perhaps india. in the north atlantic, europe will stretch half-way across the ocean to the azores, and further north right across. in short, we must suppose probably, half the present ocean was land within the period of living organisms. the globe within this period must have had a quite different aspect. now the only way to test this, that i can see, is to consider whether the continents have undergone within this same period such wonderful permutations. in all north and south and central america, we have both recent and miocene (or eocene) shells, quite distinct on the opposite sides, and hence i cannot doubt that fundamentally america has held its place since at least, the miocene period. in africa almost all the living shells are distinct on the opposite sides of the inter-tropical regions, short as the distance is compared to the range of marine mollusca, in uninterrupted seas; hence i infer that africa has existed since our present species were created. even the isthmus of suez and the aralo-caspian basin have had a great antiquity. so i imagine, from the tertiary deposits, has india. in australia the great fauna of extinct marsupials shows that before the present mammals appeared, australia was a separate continent. i do not for one second doubt that very large portions of all these continents have undergone great changes of level within this period, but yet i conclude that fundamentally they stood as barriers in the sea, where they now stand; and therefore i should require the weightiest evidence to make me believe in such immense changes within the period of living organisms in our oceans, where, moreover, from the great depths, the changes must have been vaster in a vertical sense. secondly. submerge our present continents, leaving a few mountain peaks as islands, and what will the character of the islands be,--consider that the pyrenees, sierra nevada, apennines, alps, carpathians, are non-volcanic, etna and caucasus, volcanic. in asia, altai and himalaya, i believe non-volcanic. in north africa the non-volcanic, as i imagine, alps of abyssinia and of the atlas. in south africa, the snow mountains. in australia, the non-volcanic alps. in north america, the white mountains, alleghanies and rocky mountains--some of the latter alone, i believe, volcanic. in south america to the east, the non-volcanic [silla?] of caracas, and itacolumi of brazil, further south the sierra ventanas, and in the cordilleras, many volcanic but not all. now compare these peaks with the oceanic islands; as far as known all are volcanic, except st. paul's (a strange bedevilled rock), and the seychelles, if this latter can be called oceanic, in the line of madagascar; the falklands, only miles off, are only a shallow bank; new caledonia, hardly oceanic, is another exception. this argument has to me great weight. compare on a geographical map, islands which, we have several reasons to suppose, were connected with mainland, as sardinia, and how different it appears. believing, as i am inclined, that continents as continents, and oceans as oceans, are of immense antiquity--i should say that if any of the existing oceanic islands have any relation of any kind to continents, they are forming continents; and that by the time they could form a continent, the volcanoes would be denuded to their cores, leaving peaks of syenite, diorite, or porphyry. but have we nowhere any last wreck of a continent, in the midst of the ocean? st. paul's rock, and such old battered volcanic islands, as st. helena, may be; but i think we can see some reason why we should have less evidence of sinking than of rising continents (if my view in my coral volume has any truth in it, viz.: that volcanic outbursts accompany rising areas), for during subsidence there will be no compensating agent at work, in rising areas there will be the additional element of outpoured volcanic matter. thirdly. considering the depth of the ocean, i was, before i got your letter, inclined vehemently to dispute the vast amount of subsidence, but i must strike my colours. with respect to coral reefs, i carefully guarded against its being supposed that a continent was indicated by the groups of atolls. it is difficult to guess, as it seems to me, the amount of subsidence indicated by coral reefs; but in such large areas as the lowe archipelago, the marshall archipelago, and laccadive group, it would, judging, from the heights of existing oceanic archipelagoes, be odd, if some peaks of from to , feet had not been buried. even after your letter a suspicion crossed me whether it would be fair to argue from subsidences in the middle of the greatest oceans to continents; but refreshing my memory by talking with ramsay in regard to the probable thickness in one vertical line of the silurian and carboniferous formation, it seems there must have been at least , feet of subsidence during these formations in europe and north america, and therefore during the continuance of nearly the same set of organic beings. but even , feet would not be enough for the azores, or for hooker's continent; i believe hooker does not infer a continuous continent, but approximate groups of islands, with, if we may judge from existing continents, not profoundly deep sea between them; but the argument from the volcanic nature of nearly every existing oceanic island tell against such supposed groups of islands,--for i presume he does not suppose a mere chain of volcanic islands belting the southern hemisphere. fourthly. the supposed continental extensions do not seem to me, perfectly to account for all the phenomena of distribution on islands; as the absence of mammals and batrachians; the absence of certain great groups of insects on madeira, and of acaciae and banksias, etc., in new zealand; the paucity of plants in some cases, etc. not that those who believe in various accidental means of dispersal, can explain most of these cases; but they may at least say that these facts seem hardly compatible with former continuous land. finally. for these several reasons, and especially considering it certain (in which you will agree) that we are extremely ignorant of means of dispersal, i cannot avoid thinking that forbes' 'atlantis,' was an ill-service to science, as checking a close study of means of dissemination. i shall be really grateful to hear, as briefly as you like, whether these arguments have any weight with you, putting yourself in the position of an honest judge. i told hooker that i was going to write to you on this subject; and i should like him to read this; but whether he or you will think it worth time and postage remains to be proved. yours most truly, charles darwin. [on july th he wrote to sir charles lyell. "i am sorry you cannot give any verdict on continental extensions; and i infer that you think my argument of not much weight against such extensions. i know i wish i could believe so."] charles darwin to asa gray. down, july th [ ]. ...it is not a little egotistical, but i should like to tell you (and i do not think i have) how i view my work. nineteen years (!) ago it occurred to me that whilst otherwise employed on natural history, i might perhaps do good if i noted any sort of facts bearing on the question of the origin of species, and this i have since been doing. either species have been independently created, or they have descended from other species, like varieties from one species. i think it can be shown to be probable that man gets his most distinct varieties by preserving such as arise best worth keeping and destroying the others, but i should fill a quire if i were to go on. to be brief, i assume that species arise like our domestic varieties with much extinction; and then test this hypothesis by comparison with as many general and pretty well-established propositions as i can find made out,--in geographical distribution, geological history, affinities, etc., etc. and it seems to me that, supposing that such hypothesis were to explain such general propositions, we ought, in accordance with the common way of following all sciences, to admit it till some better hypothesis be found out. for to my mind to say that species were created so and so is no scientific explanation, only a reverent way of saying it is so and so. but it is nonsensical trying to show how i try to proceed in the compass of a note. but as an honest man, i must tell you that i have come to the heterodox conclusion that there are no such things as independently created species--that species are only strongly defined varieties. i know that this will make you despise me. i do not much underrate the many huge difficulties on this view, but yet it seems to me to explain too much, otherwise inexplicable, to be false. just to allude to one point in your last note, viz., about species of the same genus generally having a common or continuous area; if they are actual lineal descendants of one species, this of course would be the case; and the sadly too many exceptions (for me) have to be explained by climatal and geological changes. a fortiori on this view (but on exactly same grounds), all the individuals of the same species should have a continuous distribution. on this latter branch of the subject i have put a chapter together, and hooker kindly read it over. i thought the exceptions and difficulties were so great that on the whole the balance weighed against my notions, but i was much pleased to find that it seemed to have considerable weight with hooker, who said he had never been so much staggered about the permanence of species. i must say one word more in justification (for i feel sure that your tendency will be to despise me and my crotchets), that all my notions about how species change are derived from long continued study of the works of (and converse with) agriculturists and horticulturists; and i believe i see my way pretty clearly on the means used by nature to change her species and adapt them to the wondrous and exquisitely beautiful contingencies to which every living being is exposed... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, july th . my dear hooker, your letter is of much value to me. i was not able to get a definite answer from lyell (on the continental extensions of forbes and others.), as you will see in the enclosed letters, though i inferred that he thought nothing of my arguments. had it not been for this correspondence, i should have written sadly too strongly. you may rely on it i shall put my doubts moderately. there never was such a predicament as mine: here you continental extensionists would remove enormous difficulties opposed to me, and yet i cannot honestly admit the doctrine, and must therefore say so. i cannot get over the fact that not a fragment of secondary or palaeozoic rock has been found on any island above or miles from a mainland. you rather misunderstand me when you think i doubt the possibility of subsidence of , or , feet; it is only probability, considering such evidence as we have independently of distribution. i have not yet worked out in full detail the distribution of mammalia, both identical and allied, with respect to the one element of depth of the sea; but as far as i have gone, the results are to me surprisingly accordant with my very most troublesome belief in not such great geographical changes as you believe; and in mammalia we certainly know more of means of distribution than in any other class. nothing is so vexatious to me, as so constantly finding myself drawing different conclusions from better judges than myself, from the same facts. i fancy i have lately removed many (not geographical) great difficulties opposed to my notions, but god knows it may be all hallucination. please return lyell's letters. what a capital letter of lyell's that to you is, and what a wonderful man he is. i differ from him greatly in thinking that those who believe that species are not fixed will multiply specific names: i know in my own case my most frequent source of doubt was whether others would not think this or that was a god-created barnacle, and surely deserved a name. otherwise i should only have thought whether the amount of difference and permanence was sufficient to justify a name: i am, also, surprised at his thinking it immaterial whether species are absolute or not: whenever it is proved that all species are produced by generation, by laws of change, what good evidence we shall have of the gaps in formations. and what a science natural history will be, when we are in our graves, when all the laws of change are thought one of the most important parts of natural history. i cannot conceive why lyell thinks such notions as mine or of 'vestiges,' will invalidate specific centres. but i must not run on and take up your time. my ms. will not, i fear, be copied before you go abroad. with hearty thanks. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--after giving much condensed, my argument versus continental extensions, i shall append some such sentence, as that two better judges than myself have considered these arguments, and attach no weight to them. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, august th [ ]. ...i quite agree about lyell's letters to me, which, though to me interesting, have afforded me no new light. your letters, under the geological point of view, have been more valuable to me. you cannot imagine how earnestly i wish i could swallow continental extension, but i cannot; the more i think (and i cannot get the subject out of my head), the more difficult i find it. if there were only some half-dozen cases, i should not feel the least difficulty; but the generality of the facts of all islands (except one or two) having a considerable part of their productions in common with one or more mainlands utterly staggers me. what a wonderful case of the epacridae! it is most vexatious, also humiliating, to me that i cannot follow and subscribe to the way in which you strikingly put your view of the case. i look at your facts (about eucalyptus, etc.) as damning against continental extension, and if you like also damning against migration, or at least of enormous difficulty. i see the ground of our difference (in a letter i must put myself on an equality in arguing) lies, in my opinion, that scarcely anything is known of means of distribution. i quite agree with a. de candolle's (and i dare say your) opinion that it is poor work putting together the merely possible means of distribution; but i see no other way in which the subject can be attacked, for i think that a. de candolle's argument, that no plants have been introduced into england except by man's agency, [is] of no weight. i cannot but think that the theory of continental extension does do some little harm as stopping investigation of the means of dispersal, which, whether negative or positive, seems to me of value; when negatived, then every one who believes in single centres will have to admit continental extensions. ...i see from your remarks that you do not understand my notions (whether or no worth anything) about modification; i attribute very little to the direct action of climate, etc. i suppose, in regard to specific centres, we are at cross purposes; i should call the kitchen garden in which the red cabbage was produced, or the farm in which bakewell made the shorthorn cattle, the specific centre of these species! and surely this is centralisation enough! i thank you most sincerely for all your assistance; and whether or no my book may be wretched, you have done your best to make it less wretched. sometimes i am in very good spirits and sometimes very low about it. my own mind is decided on the question of the origin of species; but, good heavens, how little that is worth!... [with regard to "specific centres," a passage from a letter dated july , , by sir charles lyell to sir j.d. hooker ('life' ii. page ) is of interest: "i fear much that if darwin argues that species are phantoms, he will also have to admit that single centres of dispersion are phantoms also, and that would deprive me of much of the value which i ascribe to the present provinces of animals and plants, as illustrating modern and tertiary changes in physical geography." he seems to have recognised, however, that the phantom doctrine would soon have to be faced, for he wrote in the same letter: "whether darwin persuades you and me to renounce our faith in species (when geological epochs are considered) or not, i foresee that many will go over to the indefinite modifiability doctrine." in the autumn my father was still working at geographical distribution, and again sought the aid of sir j.d. hooker. a letter to sir j.d. hooker [september, ]. "in the course of some weeks, you unfortunate wretch, you will have my ms. on one point of geographical distribution. i will however, never ask such a favour again; but in regard to this one piece of ms., it is of infinite importance to me for you to see it; for never in my life have i felt such difficulty what to do, and i heartily wish i could slur the whole subject over." in a letter to sir j.d. hooker (june, ), the following characteristic passage occurs, suggested, no doubt, by the kind of work which his chapter on geographical distribution entailed: "there is wonderful ill logic in his [e. forbes'] famous and admirable memoir on distribution, as it appears to me, now that i have got it up so as to give the heads in a page. depend on it, my saying is a true one, viz., that a compiler is a great man, and an original man a commonplace man. any fool can generalise and speculate; but, oh, my heavens! to get up at second hand a new zealand flora, that is work." charles darwin to w.d. fox. october [ ]. ...i remember you protested against lyell's advice of writing a sketch of my species doctrines. well, when i began i found it such unsatisfactory work that i have desisted, and am now drawing up my work as perfect as my materials of nineteen years' collecting suffice, but do not intend to stop to perfect any line of investigation beyond current work. thus far and no farther i shall follow lyell's urgent advice. your remarks weighed with me considerably. i find to my sorrow it will run to quite a big book. i have found my careful work at pigeons really invaluable, as enlightening me on many points on variation under domestication. the copious old literature, by which i can trace the gradual changes in the breeds of pigeons has been extraordinarily useful to me. i have just had pigeons and fowls alive from the gambia! rabbits and ducks i am attending to pretty carefully, but less so than pigeons. i find most remarkable differences in the skeletons of rabbits. have you ever kept any odd breeds of rabbits, and can you give me any details? one other question: you used to keep hawks; do you at all know, after eating a bird, how soon after they throw up the pellet? no subject gives me so much trouble and doubt and difficulty as the means of dispersal of the same species of terrestrial productions on the oceanic islands. land mollusca drive me mad, and i cannot anyhow get their eggs to experimentise their power of floating and resistance to the injurious action of salt water. i will not apologise for writing so much about my own doings, as i believe you will like to hear. do sometime, i beg you, let me hear how you get on in health; and if so inclined, let me have some words on call-ducks. my dear fox, yours affectionately, ch. darwin. [with regard to his book he wrote (november th) to sir charles lyell]: "i am working very steadily at my big book; i have found it quite impossible to publish any preliminary essay or sketch; but am doing my work as completely as my present materials allow without waiting to perfect them. and this much acceleration i owe to you."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, sunday [october ]. my dear hooker, the seeds are come all safe, many thanks for them. i was very sorry to run away so soon and miss any part of my most pleasant evening; and i ran away like a goth and vandal without wishing mrs. hooker good-bye; but i was only just in time, as i got on the platform the train had arrived. i was particularly glad of our discussion after dinner, fighting a battle with you always clears my mind wonderfully. i groan to hear that a. gray agrees with you about the condition of botanical geography. all i know is that if you had had to search for light in zoological geography you would by contrast, respect your own subject a vast deal more than you now do. the hawks have behaved like gentlemen, and have cast up pellets with lots of seeds in them; and i have just had a parcel of partridge's feet well caked with mud!!! (the mud in such cases often contains seeds, so that plants are thus transported.) adios. your insane and perverse friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. my dear hooker, i thank you more cordially than you will think probable, for your note. your verdict (on the ms. relating to geographical distribution.) has been a great relief. on my honour i had no idea whether or not you would say it was (and i knew you would say it very kindly) so bad, that you would have begged me to have burnt the whole. to my own mind my ms. relieved me of some few difficulties, and the difficulties seemed to me pretty fairly stated, but i had become so bewildered with conflicting facts, evidence, reasoning and opinions, that i felt to myself that i had lost all judgment. your general verdict is incomparably more favourable than i had anticipated... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, november rd [ ]. my dear hooker, i fear i shall weary you with letters, but do not answer this, for in truth and without flattery, i so value your letters, that after a heavy batch, as of late, i feel that i have been extravagant and have drawn too much money, and shall therefore have to stint myself on another occasion. when i sent my ms. i felt strongly that some preliminary questions on the causes of variation ought to have been sent you. whether i am right or wrong in these points is quite a separate question, but the conclusion which i have come to, quite independently of geographical distribution, is that external conditions (to which naturalists so often appeal) do by themselves very little. how much they do is the point of all others on which i feel myself very weak. i judge from the facts of variation under domestication, and i may yet get more light. but at present, after drawing up a rough copy on this subject, my conclusion is that external conditions do extremely little, except in causing mere variability. this mere variability (causing the child not closely to resemble its parent) i look at as very different from the formation of a marked variety or new species. (no doubt the variability is governed by laws, some of which i am endeavouring very obscurely to trace.) the formation of a strong variety or species i look a as almost wholly due to the selection of what may be incorrectly called chance variations or variability. this power of selection stands in the most direct relation to time, and in the state of nature can be only excessively slow. again, the slight differences selected, by which a race or species is at last formed, stands, as i think can be shown (even with plants, and obviously with animals), in a far more important relation to its associates than to external conditions. therefore, according to my principles, whether right or wrong, i cannot agree with your proposition that time, and altered conditions, and altered associates, are 'convertible terms.' i look at the first and the last as far more important: time being important only so far as giving scope to selection. god knows whether you will perceive at what i am driving. i shall have to discuss and think more about your difficulty of the temperate and sub-arctic forms in the s. hemisphere than i have yet done. but i am inclined to think that i am right (if my general principles are right), that there would be little tendency to the formation of a new species, during the period of migration, whether shorter or longer, though considerable variability may have supervened... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. december th [ ]. ...how i do wish i lived near you to discuss matters with. i have just been comparing definitions of species, and stating briefly how systematic naturalists work out their subjects. aquilegia in the flora indica was a capital example for me. it is really laughable to see what different ideas are prominent in various naturalists' minds, when they speak of "species;" in some, resemblance is everything and descent of little weight--in some, resemblance seems to go for nothing, and creation the reigning idea--in some, descent is the key,--in some, sterility an unfailing test, with others it is not worth a farthing. it all comes, i believe, from trying to define the undefinable. i suppose you have lost the odd black seed from the birds' dung, which germinated,--anyhow, it is not worth taking trouble over. i have now got about a dozen seeds out of small birds' dung. adios, my dear hooker, ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, january st [ ?]. my dear dr gray, i have received the second part of your paper ('statistics of the flora of the northern united states.' "silliman's journal", .), and though i have nothing particular to say, i must send you my thanks and hearty admiration. the whole paper strikes me as quite exhausting the subject, and i quite fancy and flatter myself i now appreciate the character of your flora. what a difference in regard to europe your remark in relation to the genera makes! i have been eminently glad to see your conclusion in regard to the species of large genera widely ranging; it is in strict conformity with the results i have worked out in several ways. it is of great importance to my notions. by the way you have paid me a great compliment ("from some investigations of his own, this sagacious naturalist inclines to think that [the species of] large genera range over a larger area than the species of small genera do."--asa gray, loc. cit.): to be simply mentioned even in such a paper i consider a very great honour. one of your conclusions makes me groan, viz., that the line of connection of the strictly alpine plants is through greenland. i should extremely like to see your reasons published in detail, for it "riles" me (this is a proper expression, is it not?) dreadfully. lyell told me, that agassiz having a theory about when saurians were first created, on hearing some careful observations opposed to this, said he did not believe it, "for nature never lied." i am just in this predicament, and repeat to you that, "nature never lies," ergo, theorisers are always right... overworked as you are, i dare say you will say that i am an odious plague; but here is another suggestion! i was led by one of my wild speculations to conclude (though it has nothing to do with geographical distribution, yet it has with your statistics) that trees would have a strong tendency to have flowers with dioecious, monoecious or polygamous structure. seeing that this seemed so in persoon, i took one little british flora, and discriminating trees from bushes according to loudon, i have found that the result was in species, genera and families, as i anticipated. so i sent my notions to hooker to ask him to tabulate the new zealand flora for this end, and he thought my result sufficiently curious, to do so; and the accordance with britain is very striking, and the more so, as he made three classes of trees, bushes, and herbaceous plants. (he says further he shall work the tasmanian flora on the same principle.) the bushes hold an intermediate position between the other two classes. it seems to me a curious relation in itself, and is very much so, if my theory and explanation are correct. (see 'origin,' edition i., page .) with hearty thanks, your most troublesome friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. my dear hooker, your letter has pleased me much, for i never can get it out of my head, that i take unfair advantage of your kindness, as i receive all and give nothing. what a splendid discussion you could write on the whole subject of variation! the cases discussed in your last note are valuable to me (though odious and damnable), as showing how profoundly ignorant we are on the causes of variation. i shall just allude to these cases, as a sort of sub-division of polymorphism a little more definite, i fancy, than the variation of, for instance, the rubi, and equally or more perplexing. i have just been putting my notes together on variations apparently due to the immediate and direct action of external causes; and i have been struck with one result. the most firm sticklers for independent creation admit, that the fur of the same species is thinner towards the south of the range of the same species than to the north--that the same shells are brighter-coloured to the south than north; that the same [shell] is paler-coloured in deep water--that insects are smaller and darker on mountains--more livid and testaceous near sea--that plants are smaller and more hairy and with brighter flowers on mountains: now in all such, and other cases, distinct species in the two zones follow the same rule, which seems to me to be most simply explained by species, being only strongly marked varieties, and therefore following the same laws as recognised and admitted varieties. i mention all this on account of the variation of plants in ascending mountains; i have quoted the foregoing remark only generally with no examples, for i add, there is so much doubt and dispute what to call varieties; but yet i have stumbled on so many casual remarks on varieties of plants on mountains being so characterised, that i presume there is some truth in it. what think you? do you believe there is any tendency in varieties, as generally so-called, of plants to become more hairy and with proportionally larger and brighter-coloured flowers in ascending a mountain? i have been interested in my "weed garden," of x feet square: i mark each seedling as it appears, and i am astonished at the number that come up, and still more at the number killed by slugs, etc. already have been so killed; i expected a good many, but i had fancied that this was a less potent check than it seems to be, and i attributed almost exclusively to mere choking, the destruction of the seedlings. grass-seedlings seem to suffer much less than exogens... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. moor park, farnham [april (?) ]. my dear hooker, your letter has been forwarded to me here, where i am undergoing hydropathy for a fortnight, having been here a week, and having already received an amount of good which is quite incredible to myself and quite unaccountable. i can walk and eat like a hearty christian, and even my nights are good. i cannot in the least understand how hydropathy can act as it certainly does on me. it dulls one's brain splendidly; i have not thought about a single species of any kind since leaving home. your note has taken me aback; i thought the hairiness, etc., of alpine species was generally admitted; i am sure i have seen it alluded to a score of times. falconer was haranguing on it the other day to me. meyen or gay, or some such fellow (whom you would despise), i remember, makes some remark on chilian cordillera plants. wimmer has written a little book on the same lines, and on varieties being so characterised in the alps. but after writing to you, i confess i was staggered by finding one man (moquin-tandon, i think) saying that alpine flowers are strongly inclined to be white, and linnaeus saying that cold makes plants apetalous, even the same species! are arctic plants often apetalous? my general belief from my compiling work is quite to agree with what you say about the little direct influence of climate; and i have just alluded to the hairiness of alpine plants as an exception. the odoriferousness would be a good case for me if i knew of varieties being more odoriferous in dry habitats. i fear that i have looked at the hairiness of alpine plants as so generally acknowledged that i have not marked passages, so as at all to see what kind of evidence authors advance. i must confess, the other day, when i asked falconer, whether he knew of individual plants losing or acquiring hairiness when transported, he did not. but now this second, my memory flashes on me, and i am certain i have somewhere got marked a case of hairy plants from the pyrenees losing hairs when cultivated at montpellier. shall you think me very impudent if i tell you that i have sometimes thought that (quite independently of the present case), you are a little too hard on bad observers; that a remark made by a bad observer cannot be right; an observer who deserves to be damned you would utterly damn. i feel entire deference to any remark you make out of your own head; but when in opposition to some poor devil, i somehow involuntarily feel not quite so much, but yet much deference for your opinion. i do not know in the least whether there is any truth in this my criticism against you, but i have often thought i would tell you it. i am really very much obliged for your letter, for, though i intended to put only one sentence and that vaguely, i should probably have put that much too strongly. ever, my dear hooker, yours most truly, c. darwin. p.s. this note, as you see, has not anything requiring an answer. the distribution of fresh-water molluscs has been a horrid incubus to me, but i think i know my way now; when first hatched they are very active, and i have had thirty or forty crawl on a dead duck's foot; and they cannot be jerked off, and will live fifteen and even twenty-four hours out of water. [the following letter refers to the expedition of the austrian frigate "novara"; lyell had asked my father for suggestions.] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, february th [ ]. my dear lyell, i was glad to see in the newspapers about the austrian expedition. i have nothing to add geologically to my notes in the manual. (the article "geology" in the admiralty manual of scientific enquiry.) i do not know whether the expedition is tied down to call at only fixed spots. but if there be any choice or power in the scientific men to influence the places--this would be most desirable. it is my most deliberate conviction that nothing would aid more, natural history, than careful collecting and investigating all the productions of the most isolated islands, especially of the southern hemisphere. except tristan d'acunha and kerguelen land, they are very imperfectly known; and even at kerguelen land, how much there is to make out about the lignite beds, and whether there are signs of old glacial action. every sea shell and insect and plant is of value from such spots. some one in the expedition especially ought to have hooker's new zealand essay. what grand work to explore rodriguez, with its fossil birds, and little known productions of every kind. again the seychelles, which, with the cocos so near, must be a remnant of some older land. the outer island of juan fernandez is little known. the investigation of these little spots by a band of naturalists would be grand; st. paul's and amsterdam would be glorious, botanically, and geologically. can you not recommend them to get my 'journal' and 'volcanic islands' on account of the galapagos. if they come from the north it will be a shame and a sin if they do not call at cocos islet, one of the galapagos. i always regretted that i was not able to examine the great craters on albemarle island, one of the galapagos. in new zealand urge on them to look out for erratic boulders and marks of old glaciers. urge the use of the dredge in the tropics; how little or nothing we know of the limit of life downward in the hot seas? my present work leads me to perceive how much the domestic animals have been neglected in out of the way countries. the revillagigedo island off mexico, i believe, has never been trodden by foot of naturalist. if the expedition sticks to such places as rio, cape of good hope, ceylon and australia, etc., it will not do much. ever yours most truly, c. darwin. [the following passage occurs in a letter to mr. fox, february , , and has reference to the book on evolution on which he was still at work. the remainder of the letter is made up in details of no interest: "i am got most deeply interested in my subject; though i wish i could set less value on the bauble fame, either present or posthumous, than i do, but not i think, to any extreme degree: yet, if i know myself, i would work just as hard, though with less gusto, if i knew that my book would be published for ever anonymously."] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. moor park, may st, . my dear sir, i am much obliged for your letter of october th, from celebes, received a few days ago; in a laborious undertaking, sympathy is a valuable and real encouragement. by your letter and even still more by your paper ('on the law that has regulated the introduction of new species.'--ann. nat. hist., .) in the annals, a year or more ago, i can plainly see that we have thought much alike and to a certain extent have come to similar conclusions. in regard to the paper in the annals, i agree to the truth of almost every word of your paper; and i dare say that you will agree with me that it is very rare to find oneself agreeing pretty closely with any theoretical paper; for it is lamentable how each man draws his own different conclusions from the very same facts. this summer will make the th year (!) since i opened my first note-book, on the question how and in what way do species and varieties differ from each other. i am now preparing my work for publication, but i find the subject so very large, that though i have written many chapters, i do not suppose i shall go to press for two years. i have never heard how long you intend staying in the malay archipelago; i wish i might profit by the publication of your travels there before my work appears, for no doubt you will reap a large harvest of facts. i have acted already in accordance with your advice of keeping domestic varieties, and those appearing in a state of nature, distinct; but i have sometimes doubted of the wisdom of this, and therefore i am glad to be backed by your opinion. i must confess, however, i rather doubt the truth of the now very prevalent doctrine of all our domestic animals having descended from several wild stocks; though i do not doubt that it is so in some cases. i think there is rather better evidence on the sterility of hybrid animals than you seem to admit: and in regard to plants the collection of carefully recorded facts by kolreuter and gaertner (and herbert,) is enormous. i most entirely agree with you on the little effects of "climatal conditions," which one sees referred to ad nauseam in all books: i suppose some very little effect must be attributed to such influences, but i fully believe that they are very slight. it is really impossible to explain my views (in the compass of a letter), on the causes and means of variation in a state of nature; but i have slowly adopted a distinct and tangible idea,--whether true or false others must judge; for the firmest conviction of the truth of a doctrine by its author, seems, alas, not to be the slightest guarantee of truth!... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. moor park, saturday [may nd, ]. my dear hooker, you have shaved the hair off the alpine plants pretty effectually. the case of the anthyllis will make a "tie" with the believed case of pyrenees plants becoming glabrous at low levels. if i do find that i have marked such facts, i will lay the evidence before you. i wonder how the belief could have originated! was it through final causes to keep the plants warm? falconer in talk coupled the two facts of woolly alpine plants and mammals. how candidly and meekly you took my jeremiad on your severity to second-class men. after i had sent it off, an ugly little voice asked me, once or twice, how much of my noble defence of the poor in spirit and in fact, was owing to your having not seldom smashed favourite notions of my own. i silenced the ugly little voice with contempt, but it would whisper again and again. i sometimes despise myself as a poor compiler as heartily as you could do, though i do not despise my whole work, as i think there is enough known to lay a foundation for the discussion on the origin of species. i have been led to despise and laugh at myself as a compiler, for having put down that "alpine plants have large flowers," and now perhaps i may write over these very words, "alpine plants have small or apetalous flowers!"... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [may] th [ ]. my dear hooker, you said--i hope honestly--that you did not dislike my asking questions on general points, you of course answering or not as time or inclination might serve. i find in the animal kingdom that the proposition that any part or organ developed normally (i.e., not a monstrosity) in a species in any high or unusual degree, compared with the same part or organ in allied species, tends to be highly variable. i cannot doubt this from my mass of collected facts. to give an instance, the cross-bill is very abnormal in the structure of its bill compared with other allied fringillidae, and the beak is eminently variable. the himantopus, remarkable from the wonderful length of its legs, is very variable in the length of its legs. i could give many most striking and curious illustrations in all classes; so many that i think it cannot be chance. but i have none in the vegetable kingdom, owing, as i believe, to my ignorance. if nepenthes consisted of one or two species in a group with a pitcher developed, then i should have expected it to have been very variable; but i do not consider nepenthes a case in point, for when a whole genus or group has an organ, however anomalous, i do not expect it to be variable,--it is only when one or few species differ greatly in some one part or organ from the forms closely allied to it in all other respects, that i believe such part or organ to be highly variable. will you turn this in your mind? it is an important apparent law (!) for me. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--i do not know how far you will care to hear, but i find moquin-tandon treats in his 'teratologie' on villosity of plants, and seems to attribute more to dryness than altitude; but seems to think that it must be admitted that mountain plants are villose, and that this villosity is only in part explained by de candolle's remark that the dwarfed condition of mountain plants would condense the hairs, and so give them the appearance of being more hairy. he quotes senebier, 'physiologie vegetale,' as authority--i suppose the first authority, for mountain plants being hairy. if i could show positively that the endemic species were more hairy in dry districts, then the case of the varieties becoming more hairy in dry ground would be a fact for me. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, june rd [ ]. my dear hooker, i am going to enjoy myself by having a prose on my own subjects to you, and this is a greater enjoyment to me than you will readily understand, as i for months together do not open my mouth on natural history. your letter is of great value to me, and staggers me in regard to my proposition. i dare say the absence of botanical facts may in part be accounted for by the difficulty of measuring slight variations. indeed, after writing, this occurred to me; for i have crucianella stylosa coming into flower, and the pistil ought to be very variable in length, and thinking of this i at once felt how could one judge whether it was variable in any high degree. how different, for instance, from the beak of a bird! but i am not satisfied with this explanation, and am staggered. yet i think there is something in the law; i have had so many instances, as the following: i wrote to wollaston to ask him to run through the madeira beetles and tell me whether any one presented anything very anomalous in relation to its allies. he gave me a unique case of an enormous head in a female, and then i found in his book, already stated, that the size of the head was astonishingly variable. part of the difference with plants may be accounted for by many of my cases being secondary male or female characters, but then i have striking cases with hermaphrodite cirripedes. the cases seem to me far too numerous for accidental coincidences, of great variability and abnormal development. i presume that you will not object to my putting a note saying that you had reflected over the case, and though one or two cases seemed to support, quite as many or more seemed wholly contradictory. this want of evidence is the more surprising to me, as generally i find any proposition more easily tested by observations in botanical works, which i have picked up, than in zoological works. i never dreamed that you had kept the subject at all before your mind. altogether the case is one more of my many horrid puzzles. my observations, though on so infinitely a small scale, on the struggle for existence, begin to make me see a little clearer how the fight goes on. out of sixteen kinds of seed sown on my meadow, fifteen have germinated, but now they are perishing at such a rate that i doubt whether more than one will flower. here we have choking which has taken place likewise on a great scale, with plants not seedlings, in a bit of my lawn allowed to grow up. on the other hand, in a bit of ground, by feet, i have daily marked each seedling weed as it has appeared during march, april and may, and have come up, and of these have already been killed chiefly by slugs. by the way, at moor park, i saw rather a pretty case of the effects of animals on vegetation: there are enormous commons with clumps of old scotch firs on the hills, and about eight or ten years ago some of these commons were enclosed, and all round the clumps nice young trees are springing up by the million, looking exactly as if planted, so many are of the same age. in other parts of the common, not yet enclosed, i looked for miles and not one young tree could be seen. i then went near (within quarter of a mile of the clumps) and looked closely in the heather, and there i found tens of thousands of young scotch firs (thirty in one square yard) with their tops nibbled off by the few cattle which occasionally roam over these wretched heaths. one little tree, three inches high, by the rings appeared to be twenty-six years old, with a short stem about as thick as a stick of sealing-wax. what a wondrous problem it is, what a play of forces, determining the kind and proportion of each plant in a square yard of turf! it is to my mind truly wonderful. and yet we are pleased to wonder when some animal or plant becomes extinct. i am so sorry that you will not be at the club. i see mrs. hooker is going to yarmouth; i trust that the health of your children is not the motive. good-bye. my dear hooker, ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--i believe you are afraid to send me a ripe edwardsia pod, for fear i should float it from new zealand to chile!!! charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, june [ ]. my dear hooker, i honour your conscientious care about the medals. (the royal society's medals.) thank god! i am only an amateur (but a much interested one) on the subject. it is an old notion of mine that more good is done by giving medals to younger men in the early part of their career, than as a mere reward to men whose scientific career is nearly finished. whether medals ever do any good is a question which does not concern us, as there the medals are. i am almost inclined to think that i would rather lower the standard, and give medals to young workers than to old ones with no especial claims. with regard to especial claims, i think it just deserving your attention, that if general claims are once admitted, it opens the door to great laxity in giving them. think of the case of a very rich man, who aided solely with his money, but to a grand extent--or such an inconceivable prodigy as a minister of the crown who really cared for science. would you give such men medals? perhaps medals could not be better applied than exclusively to such men. i confess at present i incline to stick to especial claims which can be put down on paper... i am much confounded by your showing that there are not obvious instances of my (or rather waterhouse's) law of abnormal developments being highly variable. i have been thinking more of your remark about the difficulty of judging or comparing variability in plants from the great general variability of parts. i should look at the law as more completely smashed if you would turn in your mind for a little while for cases of great variability of an organ, and tell me whether it is moderately easy to pick out such cases; for if they can be picked out, and, notwithstanding, do not coincide with great or abnormal development, it would be a complete smasher. it is only beginning in your mind at the variability end of the question instead of at the abnormality end. perhaps cases in which a part is highly variable in all the species of a group should be excluded, as possibly being something distinct, and connected with the perplexing subject of polymorphism. will you perfect your assistance by further considering, for a little, the subject this way? i have been so much interested this morning in comparing all my notes on the variation of the several species of the genus equus and the results of their crossing. taking most strictly analogous facts amongst the blessed pigeons for my guide, i believe i can plainly see the colouring and marks of the grandfather of the ass, horse, quagga, hemionus and zebra, some millions of generations ago! should not i [have] sneer[ed] at any one who made such a remark to me a few years ago; but my evidence seems to me so good that i shall publish my vision at the end of my little discussion on this genus. i have of late inundated you with my notions, you best of friends and philosophers. adios, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. moor park, farnham, june th [ ]. my dear hooker, this requires no answer, but i will ask you whenever we meet. look at enclosed seedling gorses, especially one with the top knocked off. the leaves succeeding the cotyledons being almost clover-like in shape, seems to me feebly analogous to embryonic resemblances in young animals, as, for instance, the young lion being striped. i shall ask you whether this is so...(see 'power of movement in plants,' page .) dr. lane (the physician at moor park.) and wife, and mother-in-law, lady drysdale, are some of the nicest people i ever met. i return home on the th. good-bye, my dear hooker. ever yours, c. darwin. [here follows a group of letters, of various dates, bearing on the question of large genera varying.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. march th [ ]. i was led to all this work by a remark of fries, that the species in large genera were more closely related to each other than in small genera; and if this were so, seeing that varieties and species are so hardly distinguishable, i concluded that i should find more varieties in the large genera than in the small...some day i hope you will read my short discussion on the whole subject. you have done me infinite service, whatever opinion i come to, in drawing my attention to at least the possibility or the probability of botanists recording more varieties in the large than in the small genera. it will be hard work for me to be candid in coming to my conclusion. ever yours, most truly, c. darwin. p.s.--i shall be several weeks at my present job. the work has been turning out badly for me this morning, and i am sick at heart; and, oh! how i do hate species and varieties. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. july th [ ?]. ...i write now to supplicate most earnestly a favour, viz., the loan of "boreau, flore du centre de la france", either st or nd edition, last best; also "flora ratisbonensis," by dr. furnrohr, in 'naturhist. topographie von regensburg, .' if you can possibly spare them, will you send them at once to the enclosed address. if you have not them, will you send one line by return of post: as i must try whether kippist (the late mr. kippist was at this time in charge of the linnean society's library.) can anyhow find them, which i fear will be nearly impossible in the linnean library, in which i know they are. i have been making some calculations about varieties, etc., and talking yesterday with lubbock, he has pointed out to me the grossest blunder which i have made in principle, and which entails two or three weeks' lost work; and i am at a dead-lock till i have these books to go over again, and see what the result of calculation on the right principle is. i am the most miserable, bemuddled, stupid dog in all england, and am ready to cry with vexation at my blindness and presumption. ever yours, most miserably, c. darwin. charles darwin to john lubbock. down, [july] th [ ]. my dear lubbock, you have done me the greatest possible service in helping me to clarify my brains. if i am as muzzy on all subjects as i am on proportion and chance,--what a book i shall produce! i have divided the new zealand flora as you suggested, there are species in genera of and upwards, and in genera of and less. the species have species presenting one or more varieties. the species have only . proportionately ( : :: : . ) they ought to have had / species presenting vars. so that the case goes as i want it, but not strong enough, without it be general, for me to have much confidence in. i am quite convinced yours is the right way; i had thought of it, but should never have done it had it not been for my most fortunate conversation with you. un quite shocked to find how easily i am muddled, for i had before thought over the subject much, and concluded my way was fair. it is dreadfully erroneous. what a disgraceful blunder you have saved me from. i heartily thank you. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--it is enough to make me tear up all my ms. and give up in despair. it will take me several weeks to go over all my materials. but oh, if you knew how thankful i am to you! charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, august [ ]. my dear hooker, it is a horrid bore you cannot come soon, and i reproach myself that i did not write sooner. how busy you must be! with such a heap of botanists at kew. only think, i have just had a letter from henslow, saying he will come here between th and th! is not that grand? many thanks about furnrohr. i must humbly supplicate kippist to search for it: he most kindly got boreau for me. i am got extremely interested in tabulating, according to mere size of genera, the species having any varieties marked by greek letters or otherwise: the result (as far as i have yet gone) seems to me one of the most important arguments i have yet met with, that varieties are only small species--or species only strongly marked varieties. the subject is in many ways so very important for me; i wish much you would think of any well-worked floras with from - species, with the varieties marked. it is good to have hair-splitters and lumpers. (those who make many species are the "splitters," and those who make few are the "lumpers.") i have done, or am doing:-- babington....................... henslow......................... british flora. london catalogue. h.c. watson... boreau.......................... france. miquel.......................... holland. asa gray........................ n.u. states. hooker.......................... new zealand. fragment of indian flora. wollaston....................... madeira insects. has not koch published a good german flora? does he mark varieties? could you send it me? is there not some grand russian flora, which perhaps has varieties marked? the floras ought to be well known. i am in no hurry for a few weeks. will you turn this in your head when, if ever, you have leisure? the subject is very important for my work, though i clearly see many causes of error... charles darwin to asa gray. down, february st [ ]. my dear gray, my last letter begged no favour, this one does: but it will really cost you very little trouble to answer to me, and it will be of very great service to me, owing to a remark made to me by hooker, which i cannot credit, and which was suggested to him by one of my letters. he suggested my asking you, and i told him i would not give the least hint what he thought. i generally believe hooker implicitly, but he is sometimes, i think, and he confesses it, rather over critical, and his ingenuity in discovering flaws seems to me admirable. here is my question:--"do you think that good botanists in drawing up a local flora, whether small or large, or in making a prodromus like de candolle's, would almost universally, but unintentionally and unconsciously, tend to record (i.e., marking with greek letters and giving short characters) varieties in the large or in the small genera? or would the tendency be to record the varieties about equally in genera of all sizes? are you yourself conscious on reflection that you have attended to, and recorded more carefully the varieties in large or small, or very small genera?" i know what fleeting and trifling things varieties very often are; but my query applies to such as have been thought worth marking and recording. if you could screw time to send me ever so brief an answer to this, pretty soon, it would be a great service to me. yours most truly obliged, ch. darwin. p.s.--do you know whether any one has ever published any remarks on the geographical range of varieties of plants in comparison with the species to which they are supposed to belong? i have in vain tried to get some vague idea, and with the exception of a little information on this head given me by mr. watson in a paper on land shells in united states, i have quite failed; but perhaps it would be difficult for you to give me even a brief answer on this head, and if so i am not so unreasonable, i assure you, as to expect it. if you are writing to england soon, you could enclose other letters [for] me to forward. please observe the question is not whether there are more or fewer varieties in larger or smaller genera, but whether there is a stronger or weaker tendency in the minds of botanists to record such in large or small genera. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. ...i send by this post my ms. on the "commonness," "range," and "variation" of species in large and small genera. you have undertaken a horrid job in so very kindly offering to read it, and i thank you warmly. i have just corrected the copy, and am disappointed in finding how tough and obscure it is; i cannot make it clearer, and at present i loathe the very sight of it. the style of course requires further correction, and if published i must try, but as yet see not how, to make it clearer. if you have much to say and can have patience to consider the whole subject, i would meet you in london on the phil. club day, so as to save you the trouble of writing. for heaven's sake, you stern and awful judge and sceptic, remember that my conclusions may be true, notwithstanding that botanists may have recorded more varieties in large than in small genera. it seems to me a mere balancing of probabilities. again i thank you most sincerely, but i fear you will find it a horrid job. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--as usual, hydropathy has made a man of me for a short time: i hope the sea will do mrs. hooker much good. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, december nd, . my dear sir, i thank you for your letter of september th. i am extremely glad to hear how you are attending to distribution in accordance with theoretical ideas. i am a firm believer that without speculation there is no good and original observation. few travellers have attended to such points as you are now at work on; and, indeed, the whole subject of distribution of animals is dreadfully behind that of plants. you say that you have been somewhat surprised at no notice having been taken of your paper in the annals. ('on the law that has regulated the introduction of new species.' ann. nat. hist., .) i cannot say that i am, for so very few naturalists care for anything beyond the mere description of species. but you must not suppose that your paper has not been attended to: two very good men, sir c. lyell, and mr. e. blyth at calcutta, specially called my attention to it. though agreeing with you on your conclusions in that paper, i believe i go much further than you; but it is too long a subject to enter on my speculative notions. i have not yet seen your paper on the distribution of animals in the aru islands. i shall read it with the utmost interest; for i think that the most interesting quarter of the whole globe in respect to distribution, and i have long been very imperfectly trying to collect data for the malay archipelago. i shall be quite prepared to subscribe to your doctrine of subsidence; indeed, from the quite independent evidence of the coral reefs i coloured my original map (in my coral volume) of the aru islands as one of subsidence, but got frightened and left it uncoloured. but i can see that you are inclined to go much further than i am in regard to the former connection of oceanic islands with continents. ever since poor e. forbes propounded this doctrine it has been eagerly followed; and hooker elaborately discusses the former connection of all the antarctic islands and new zealand and south america. about a year ago i discussed this subject much with lyell and hooker (for i shall have to treat of it), and wrote out my arguments in opposition; but you will be glad to hear that neither lyell nor hooker thought much of my arguments. nevertheless, for once in my life, i dare withstand the almost preternatural sagacity of lyell. you ask about land-shells on islands far distant from continents: madeira has a few identical with those of europe, and here the evidence is really good, as some of them are sub-fossil. in the pacific islands there are cases of identity, which i cannot at present persuade myself to account for by introduction through man's agency; although dr. aug. gould has conclusively shown that many land-shells have thus been distributed over the pacific by man's agency. these cases of introduction are most plaguing. have you not found it so in the malay archipelago? it has seemed to me in the lists of mammals of timor and other islands, that several in all probability have been naturalised... you ask whether i shall discuss "man." i think i shall avoid the whole subject, as so surrounded with prejudices; though i fully admit that it is the highest and most interesting problem for the naturalist. my work, on which i have now been at work more or less for twenty years, will not fix or settle anything; but i hope it will aid by giving a large collection of facts, with one definite end. i get on very slowly, partly from ill-health, partly from being a very slow worker. i have got about half written; but i do not suppose i shall publish under a couple of years. i have now been three whole months on one chapter on hybridism! i am astonished to see that you expect to remain out three or four years more. what a wonderful deal you will have seen, and what interesting areas--the grand malay archipelago and the richest parts of south america! i infinitely admire and honour your zeal and courage in the good cause of natural science; and you have my very sincere and cordial good wishes for success of all kinds, and may all your theories succeed, except that on oceanic islands, on which subject i will do battle to the death. pray believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. february th [ ]. ...i am working very hard at my book, perhaps too hard. it will be very big, and i am become most deeply interested in the way facts fall into groups. i am like croesus overwhelmed with my riches in facts, and i mean to make my book as perfect as ever i can. i shall not go to press at soonest for a couple of years... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. february rd [ ]. ...i was not much struck with the great buckle, and i admired the way you stuck up about deduction and induction. i am reading his book ('the history of civilisation.'), which, with much sophistry, as it seems to me, is wonderfully clever and original, and with astounding knowledge. i saw that you admired mrs. farrer's 'questa tomba' of beethoven thoroughly; there is something grand in her sweet tones. farewell. i have partly written this note to drive bee's-cells out of my head; for i am half-mad on the subject to try to make out some simple steps from which all the wondrous angles may result. (he had much correspondence on this subject with the late professor miller of cambridge.) i was very glad to see mrs. hooker on friday; how well she appears to be and looks. forgive your intolerable but affectionate friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, april th [ ]. my dear fox, i want you to observe one point for me, on which i am extremely much interested, and which will give you no trouble beyond keeping your eyes open, and that is a habit i know full well that you have. i find horses of various colours often have a spinal band or stripe of different and darker tint than the rest of the body; rarely transverse bars on the legs, generally on the under-side of the front legs, still more rarely a very faint transverse shoulder-stripe like an ass. is there any breed of delamere forest ponies? i have found out little about ponies in these respects. sir p. egerton has, i believe, some quite thoroughbred chestnut horses; have any of them the spinal stripe? mouse-coloured ponies, or rather small horses, often have spinal and leg bars. so have dun horses (by dun i mean real colour of cream mixed with brown, bay, or chestnut). so have sometimes chestnuts, but i have not yet got a case of spinal stripe in chestnut, race horse, or in quite heavy cart-horse. any fact of this nature of such stripes in horses would be most useful to me. there is a parallel case in the legs of the donkey, and i have collected some most curious cases of stripes appearing in various crossed equine animals. i have also a large mass of parallel facts in the breeds of pigeons about the wing bars. i suspect it will throw light on the colour of the primeval horse. so do help me if occasion turns up...my health has been lately very bad from overwork, and on tuesday i go for a fortnight's hydropathy. my work is everlasting. farewell. my dear fox, i trust you are well. farewell, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. moor park, farnham [april th, ]. ...i have just had the innermost cockles of my heart rejoiced by a letter from lyell. i said to him (or he to me) that i believed from the character of the flora of the azores, that icebergs must have been stranded there; and that i expected erratic boulders would be detected embedded between the upheaved lava-beds; and i got lyell to write to hartung to ask, and now h. says my question explains what had astounded him, viz., large boulders (and some polished) of mica-schist, quartz, sandstone, etc., some embedded, and some and feet above the level of the sea, so that he had inferred that they had not been brought as ballast. is this not beautiful? the water-cure has done me some good, but i [am] nothing to boast of to-day, so good-bye. my dear friend, yours, c.d. charles darwin to c. lyell. moor park, farnham, april th [ ]. my dear lyell, i have come here for a fortnight's hydropathy, as my stomach had got, from steady work, into a horrid state. i am extremely much obliged to you for sending me hartung's interesting letter. the erratic boulders are splendid. it is a grand case of floating ice versus glaciers. he ought to have compared the northern and southern shores of the islands. it is eminently interesting to me, for i have written a very long chapter on the subject, collecting briefly all the geological evidence of glacial action in different parts of the world, and then at great length (on the theory of species changing) i have discussed the migration and modification of plants and animals, in sea and land, over a large part of the world. to my mind, it throws a flood of light on the whole subject of distribution, if combined with the modification of species. indeed, i venture to speak with some little confidence on this, for hooker, about a year ago, kindly read over my chapter, and though he then demurred gravely to the general conclusion, i was delighted to hear a week or two ago that he was inclined to come round pretty strongly to my views of distribution and change during the glacial period. i had a letter from thompson, of calcutta, the other day, which helps me much, as he is making out for me what heat our temperate plants can endure. but it is too long a subject for a note; and i have written thus only because hartung's note has set the whole subject afloat in my mind again. but i will write no more, for my object here is to think about nothing, bathe much, walk much, eat much, and read much novels. farewell, with many thanks, and very kind remembrance to lady lyell. ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to mrs. darwin. moor park, wednesday, april [ ]. the weather is quite delicious. yesterday, after writing to you, i strolled a little beyond the glade for an hour and a half, and enjoyed myself--the fresh yet dark-green of the grand scotch firs, the brown of the catkins of the old birches, with their white stems, and a fringe of distant green from the larches made an excessively pretty view. at last i fell fast asleep on the grass, and awoke with a chorus of birds singing around me, and squirrels running up the trees, and some woodpeckers laughing, and it was as pleasant and rural a scene as ever i saw, and i did not care one penny how any of the beasts or birds had been formed. i sat in the drawing-room till after eight, and then went and read the chief justice's summing up, and thought bernard (simon bernard was tried in april as an accessory to orsini's attempt on the life of the emperor of the french. the verdict was "not guilty.") guilty, and then read a bit of my novel, which is feminine, virtuous, clerical, philanthropical, and all that sort of thing, but very decidedly flat. i say feminine, for the author is ignorant about money matters, and not much of a lady--for she makes her men say, "my lady." i like miss craik very much, though we have some battles, and differ on every subject. i like also the hungarian; a thorough gentleman, formerly attache at paris, and then in the austrian cavalry, and now a pardoned exile, with broken health. he does not seem to like kossuth, but says, he is certain [he is] a sincere patriot, most clever and eloquent, but weak, with no determination of character... chapter . xiii. -- the writing of the 'origin of species.' june , , to november, . [the letters given in the present chapter tell their story with sufficient clearness, and need but a few words of explanation. mr. wallace's essay, referred to in the first letter, bore the sub-title, 'on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type,' was published in the linnean society's journal ( , volume iii. page ) as part of the joint paper of "messrs. c. darwin and a. wallace," of which the full title was 'on the tendency of species to form varieties; and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection.' my father's contribution to the paper consisted of ( ) extracts from the sketch of ; ( ) part of a letter addressed to dr asa gray, dated september , , and which is given above. the paper was "communicated" to the society by sir charles lyell and sir joseph hooker, in whose prefatory letter, a clear account of the circumstances of the case is given. referring to mr. wallace's essay, they wrote: "so highly did mr. darwin appreciate the value of the views therein set forth, that he proposed, in a letter to sir charles lyell, to obtain mr. wallace's consent to allow the essay to be published as soon as possible. of this step we highly approved, provided mr. darwin did not withhold from the public, as he was strongly inclined to do (in favour of mr. wallace), the memoir which he had himself written on the same subject, and which, as before stated, one of us had perused in , and the contents of which we had both of us been privy to for many years. on representing this to mr. darwin, he gave us permission to make what use we thought proper of his memoir, etc.; and in adopting our present course, of presenting it to the linnean society, we have explained to him that we are not solely considering the relative claims to priority of himself and his friend, but the interests of science generally."] letters. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, th [june ]. my dear lyell, some year or so ago you recommended me to read a paper by wallace in the 'annals' ('annals and magazine of natural history', .), which had interested you, and, as i was writing to him, i knew this would please him much, so i told him. he has to-day sent me the enclosed, and asked me to forward it to you. it seems to me well worth reading. your words have come true with a vengeance--that i should be forestalled. you said this, when i explained to you here very briefly my views of 'natural selection' depending on the struggle for existence. i never saw a more striking coincidence; if wallace had my ms. sketch written out in , he could not have made a better short abstract! even his terms now stand as heads of my chapters. please return me the ms., which he does not say he wishes me to publish, but i shall of course, at once write and offer to send to any journal. so all my originality, whatever it may amount to, will be smashed, though my book, if it will ever have any value, will not be deteriorated; as all the labour consists in the application of the theory. i hope you will approve of wallace's sketch, that i may tell him what you say. my dear lyell, yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, friday [june , ]. my dear lyell, i am very sorry to trouble you, busy as you are, in so merely a personal an affair; but if you will give me your deliberate opinion, you will do me as great a service as ever man did, for i have entire confidence in your judgment and honour... there is nothing in wallace's sketch which is not written out much fuller in my sketch, copied out in , and read by hooker some dozen years ago. about a year ago i sent a short sketch, of which i have a copy, of my views (owing to correspondence on several points) to asa gray, so that i could most truly say and prove that i take nothing from wallace. i should be extremely glad now to publish a sketch of my general views in about a dozen pages or so; but i cannot persuade myself that i can do so honourably. wallace says nothing about publication, and i enclose his letter. but as i had not intended to publish any sketch, can i do so honourably, because wallace has sent me an outline of his doctrine? i would far rather burn my whole book, than that he or any other man should think that i had behaved in a paltry spirit. do you not think his having sent me this sketch ties my hands?... if i could honourably publish, i would state that i was induced now to publish a sketch (and i should be very glad to be permitted to say, to follow your advice long ago given) from wallace having sent me an outline of my general conclusions. we differ only, [in] that i was led to my views from what artificial selection has done for domestic animals. i would send wallace a copy of my letter to asa gray, to show him that i had not stolen his doctrine. but i cannot tell whether to publish now would not be base and paltry. this was my first impression, and i should have certainly acted on it had it not been for your letter. this is a trumpery affair to trouble you with, but you cannot tell how much obliged i should be for your advice. by the way, would you object to send this and your answer to hooker to be forwarded to me, for then i shall have the opinion of my two best and kindest friends. this letter is miserably written, and i write it now, that i may for a time banish the whole subject; and i am worn out with musing... my good dear friend forgive me. this is a trumpery letter, influenced by trumpery feelings. yours most truly, c. darwin. i will never trouble you or hooker on the subject again. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, th [june, ]. my dear lyell, forgive me for adding a p.s. to make the case as strong as possible against myself. wallace might say, "you did not intend publishing an abstract of your views till you received my communication. is it fair to take advantage of my having freely, though unasked, communicated to you my ideas, and thus prevent me forestalling you?" the advantage which i should take being that i am induced to publish from privately knowing that wallace is in the field. it seems hard on me that i should be thus compelled to lose my priority of many years' standing, but i cannot feel at all sure that this alters the justice of the case. first impressions are generally right, and i at first thought it would be dishonourable in me now to publish. yours most truly, c. darwin. p.s.--i have always thought you would make a first-rate lord chancellor; and i now appeal to you as a lord chancellor. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, tuesday [june , ]. ...i have received your letters. i cannot think now (so soon after the death, from scarlet fever, of his infant child.) on the subject, but soon will. but i can see that you have acted with more kindness, and so has lyell, even than i could have expected from you both, most kind as you are. i can easily get my letter to asa gray copied, but it is too short. ...god bless you. you shall hear soon, as soon as i can think. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. tuesday night [june , ]. my dear hooker, i have just read your letter, and see you want the papers at once. i am quite prostrated, and can do nothing, but i send wallace, and the abstract ("abstract" is here used in the sense of "extract;" in this sense also it occurs in the 'linnean journal,' where the sources of my father's paper are described.) of my letter to asa gray, which gives most imperfectly only the means of change, and does not touch on reasons for believing that species do change. i dare say all is too late. i hardly care about it. but you are too generous to sacrifice so much time and kindness. it is most generous, most kind. i send my sketch of solely that you may see by your own handwriting that you did read it. i really cannot bear to look at it. do not waste much time. it is miserable in me to care at all about priority. the table of contents will show what it is. i would make a similar, but shorter and more accurate sketch for the 'linnean journal.' i will do anything. god bless you, my dear kind friend. i can write no more. i send this by my servant to kew. yours, c. darwin. [the following letter is that already referred to as forming part of the joint paper published in the linnean society's 'journal,' ]:-- charles darwin to asa gray. down, september th [ ]. (the date is given as october in the 'linnean journal.' the extracts were printed from a duplicate undated copy in my father's possession, on which he had written, "this was sent to asa gray or months ago, i think october .") my dear gray, i forget the exact words which i used in my former letter, but i dare say i said that i thought you would utterly despise me when i told you what views i had arrived at, which i did because i thought i was bound as an honest man to do so. i should have been a strange mortal, seeing how much i owe to your quite extraordinary kindness, if in saying this i had meant to attribute the least bad feeling to you. permit me to tell you that, before i had ever corresponded with you, hooker had shown me several of your letters (not of a private nature), and these gave me the warmest feeling of respect to you; and i should indeed be ungrateful if your letters to me, and all i have heard of you, had not strongly enhanced this feeling. but i did not feel in the least sure that when you knew whither i was tending, that you might not think me so wild and foolish in my views (god knows, arrived at slowly enough, and i hope conscientiously), that you would think me worth no more notice or assistance. to give one example: the last time i saw my dear old friend falconer, he attacked me most vigorously, but quite kindly, and told me, "you will do more harm than any ten naturalists will do good. i can see that you have already corrupted and half-spoiled hooker!!" now when i see such strong feeling in my oldest friends, you need not wonder that i always expect my views to be received with contempt. but enough and too much of this. i thank you most truly for the kind spirit of your last letter. i agree to every word in it, and think i go as far as almost any one in seeing the grave difficulties against my doctrine. with respect to the extent to which i go, all the arguments in favour of my notions fall rapidly away, the greater the scope of forms considered. but in animals, embryology leads me to an enormous and frightful range. the facts which kept me longest scientifically orthodox are those of adaptation--the pollen-masses in asclepias--the mistletoe, with its pollen carried by insects, and seed by birds--the woodpecker, with its feet and tail, beak and tongue, to climb the tree and secure insects. to talk of climate or lamarckian habit producing such adaptations to other organic beings is futile. this difficulty i believe i have surmounted. as you seem interested in the subject, and as it is an immense advantage to me to write to you and to hear, ever so briefly, what you think, i will enclose (copied, so as to save you trouble in reading) the briefest abstract of my notions on the means by which nature makes her species. why i think that species have really changed, depends on general facts in the affinities, embryology, rudimentary organs, geological history, and geographical distribution of organic beings. in regard to my abstract, you must take immensely on trust, each paragraph occupying one or two chapters in my book. you will, perhaps, think it paltry in me, when i ask you not to mention my doctrine; the reason is, if any one, like the author of the 'vestiges,' were to hear of them, he might easily work them in, and then i should have to quote from a work perhaps despised by naturalists, and this would greatly injure any chance of my views being received by those alone whose opinions i value. [here follows a discussion on "large genera varying," which has no direct connection with the remainder of the letter.] i. it is wonderful what the principle of selection by man, that is the picking out of individuals with any desired quality, and breeding from them, and again picking out, can do. even breeders have been astonished at their own results. they can act on differences inappreciable to an uneducated eye. selection has been methodically followed in europe for only the last half century. but it has occasionally, and even in some degree methodically, been followed in the most ancient times. there must have been also a kind of unconscious selection from the most ancient times, namely, in the preservation of the individual animals (without any thought of their offspring) most useful to each race of man in his particular circumstances. the "roguing," as nursery-men call the destroying of varieties, which depart from their type, is a kind of selection. i am convinced that intentional and occasional selection has been the main agent in making our domestic races. but, however this may be, its great power of modification has been indisputedly shown in late times. selection acts only by the accumulation of very slight or greater variations, caused by external conditions, or by the mere fact that in generation the child is not absolutely similar to its parent. man, by this power of accumulating variations, adapts living beings to his wants--he may be said to make the wool of one sheep good for carpets, and another for cloth, etc. ii. now, suppose there was a being, who did not judge by mere external appearance, but could study the whole internal organisation--who never was capricious--who should go on selecting for one end during millions of generations, who will say what he might not effect! in nature we have some slight variations, occasionally in all parts: and i think it can be shown that a change in the conditions of existence is the main cause of the child not exactly resembling its parents; and in nature, geology shows us what changes have taken place, and are taking place. we have almost unlimited time: no one but a practical geologist can fully appreciate this: think of the glacial period, during the whole of which the same species of shells at least have existed; there must have been during this period, millions on millions of generations. iii. i think it can be shown that there is such an unerring power at work, or natural selection (the title of my book), which selects exclusively for the good of each organic being. the elder de candolle, w. herbert, and lyell, have written strongly on the struggle for life; but even they have not written strongly enough. reflect that every being (even the elephant) breeds at such a rate that, in a few years, or at most a few centuries or thousands of years, the surface of the earth would not hold the progeny of any one species. i have found it hard constantly to bear in mind that the increase of every single species is checked during some part of its life, or during some shortly recurrent generation. only a few of those annually born can live to propagate their kind. what a trifling difference must often determine which shall survive and which perish. iv. now take the case of a country undergoing some change; this will tend to cause some of its inhabitants to vary slightly; not but what i believe most beings vary at all times enough for selection to act on. some of its inhabitants will be exterminated, and the remainder will be exposed to the mutual action of a different set of inhabitants, which i believe to be more important to the life of each being than mere climate. considering the infinitely various ways beings have to obtain food by struggling with other beings, to escape danger at various times of life, to have their eggs or seeds disseminated, etc., etc., i cannot doubt that during millions of generations individuals of a species will be born with some slight variation profitable to some part of its economy; such will have a better chance of surviving, propagating this variation, which again will be slowly increased by the accumulative action of natural selection; and the variety thus formed will either coexist with, or more commonly will exterminate its parent form. an organic being like the woodpecker, or the mistletoe, may thus come to be adapted to a score of contingencies; natural selection, accumulating those slight variations in all parts of its structure which are in any way useful to it, during any part of its life. v. multiform difficulties will occur to every one on this theory. most can, i think, be satisfactorily answered.--"natura non facit saltum" answer some of the most obvious. the slowness of the change, and only a very few undergoing change at any one time answers others. the extreme imperfections of our geological records answers others. vi. one other principle, which may be called the principle of divergence, plays, i believe, an important part in the origin of species. the same spot will support more life if occupied by very diverse forms: we see this in the many generic forms in a square yard of turf (i have counted twenty species belonging to eighteen genera), or in the plants and insects, on any little uniform islet, belonging to almost as many genera and families as to species. we can understand this with the higher animals, whose habits we best understand. we know that it has been experimentally shown that a plot of land will yield a greater weight, if cropped with several species of grasses, than with two or three species. now every single organic being, by propagating rapidly, may be said to be striving its utmost to increase in numbers. so it will be with the offspring of any species after it has broken into varieties, or sub-species, or true species. and it follows, i think, from the foregoing facts, that the varying offspring of each species will try (only a few will succeed) to seize on as many and as diverse places in the economy of nature as possible. each new variety or species when formed will generally take the place of, and so exterminate its less well-fitted parent. this, i believe, to be the origin of the classification or arrangement of all organic beings at all times. these always seem to branch and sub-branch like a tree from a common trunk; the flourishing twigs destroying the less vigorous--the dead and lost branches rudely representing extinct genera and families. this sketch is most imperfect; but in so short a space i cannot make it better. your imagination must fill up many wide blanks. without some reflection, it will appear all rubbish; perhaps it will appear so after reflection. c.d. p.s.--this little abstract touches only the accumulative power of natural selection, which i look at as by far the most important element in the production of new forms. the laws governing the incipient or primordial variation (unimportant except as the groundwork for selection to act on, in which respect it is all important), i shall discuss under several heads, but i can come, as you may well believe, only to very partial and imperfect conclusions. [the joint paper of mr. wallace and my father was read at the linnean society on the evening of july st. sir charles lyell and sir j.d. hooker were present, and both, i believe, made a few remarks, chiefly with a view of impressing on those present the necessity of giving the most careful consideration to what they had heard. there was, however, no semblance of a discussion. sir joseph hooker writes to me: "the interest excited was intense, but the subject was too novel and too ominous for the old school to enter the lists, before armouring. after the meeting it was talked over with bated breath: lyell's approval, and perhaps in a small way mine, as his lieutenant in the affair, rather overawed the fellows, who would otherwise have flown out against the doctrine. we had, too, the vantage ground of being familiar with the authors and their theme."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, july th [ ]. my dear hooker, we are become more happy and less panic-struck, now that we have sent out of the house every child, and shall remove h.,as soon as she can move. the first nurse became ill with ulcerated throat and quinsey, and the second is now ill with the scarlet fever, but, thank god, is recovering. you may imagine how frightened we have been. it has been a most miserable fortnight. thank you much for your note, telling me that all had gone on prosperously at the linnean society. you must let me once again tell you how deeply i feel your generous kindness and lyell's on this occasion. but in truth it shames me that you should have lost time on a mere point of priority. i shall be curious to see the proofs. i do not in the least understand whether my letter to a. gray is to be printed; i suppose not, only your note; but i am quite indifferent, and place myself absolutely in your and lyell's hands. i can easily prepare an abstract of my whole work, but i can hardly see how it can be made scientific for a journal, without giving facts, which would be impossible. indeed, a mere abstract cannot be very short. could you give me any idea how many pages of the journal could probably be spared me? directly after my return home, i would begin and cut my cloth to my measure. if the referees were to reject it as not strictly scientific, i could, perhaps publish it as a pamphlet. with respect to my big interleaved abstract (the sketch of .), would you send it any time before you leave england, to the enclosed address? if you do not go till august th- th, i should prefer it left with you. i hope you have jotted criticisms on my ms. on big genera, etc., sufficient to make you remember your remarks, as i should be infinitely sorry to lose them. and i see no chance of our meeting if you go soon abroad. we thank you heartily for your invitation to join you: i can fancy nothing which i should enjoy more; but our children are too delicate for us to leave; i should be mere living lumber. lastly, you said you would write to wallace; i certainly should much like this, as it would quite exonerate me: if you would send me your note, sealed up, i would forward it with my own, as i know the address, etc. will you answer me sometime about your notions of the length of my abstract. if you see lyell, will you tell him how truly grateful i feel for his kind interest in this affair of mine. you must know that i look at it, as very important, for the reception of the view of species not being immutable, the fact of the greatest geologist and botanist in england taking any sort of interest in the subject: i am sure it will do much to break down prejudices. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. miss wedgwood's, hartfield, tunbridge wells, [july th, ]. my dear hooker, your letter to wallace seems to me perfect, quite clear and most courteous. i do not think it could possibly be improved, and i have to day forwarded it with a letter of my own. i always thought it very possible that i might be forestalled, but i fancied that i had a grand enough soul not to care; but i found myself mistaken and punished; i had, however, quite resigned myself, and had written half a letter to wallace to give up all priority to him, and should certainly not have changed had it not been for lyell's and your quite extraordinary kindness. i assure you i feel it, and shall not forget it. i am more than satisfied at what took place at the linnean society. i had thought that your letter and mine to asa gray were to be only an appendix to wallace's paper. we go from here in a few days to the sea-side, probably to the isle of wight, and on my return (after a battle with pigeon skeletons) i will set to work at the abstract, though how on earth i shall make anything of an abstract in thirty pages of the journal, i know not, but will try my best. i shall order bentham; is it not a pity that you should waste time in tabulating varieties? for i can get the down schoolmaster to do it on my return, and can tell you all the results. i must try and see you before your journey; but do not think i am fishing to ask you to come to down, for you will have no time for that. you cannot imagine how pleased i am that the notion of natural selection has acted as a purgative on your bowels of immutability. whenever naturalists can look at species changing as certain, what a magnificent field will be open,--on all the laws of variation,--on the genealogy of all living beings,--on their lines of migration, etc., etc. pray thank mrs. hooker for her very kind little note, and pray, say how truly obliged i am, and in truth ashamed to think that she should have had the trouble of copying my ugly ms. it was extraordinarily kind in her. farewell, my dear kind friend. yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--i have had some fun here in watching a slave-making ant; for i could not help rather doubting the wonderful stories, but i have now seen a defeated marauding party, and i have seen a migration from one nest to another of the slave-makers, carrying their slaves (who are house, and not field niggers) in their mouths! i am inclined to think that it is a true generalisation that, when honey is secreted at one point of the circle of the corolla, if the pistil bends, it always bends into the line of the gangway to the honey. the larkspur is a good instance, in contrast to columbine,--if you think of it, just attend to this little point. charles darwin to c. lyell. king's head hotel, sandown, isle of wight, july th [ ]. ...we are established here for ten days, and then go on to shanklin, which seems more amusing to one, like myself, who cannot walk. we hope much that the sea may do h. and l. good. and if it does, our expedition will answer, but not otherwise. i have never half thanked you for all the extraordinary trouble and kindness you showed me about wallace's affair. hooker told me what was done at the linnean society, and i am far more than satisfied, and i do not think that wallace can think my conduct unfair in allowing you and hooker to do whatever you thought fair. i certainly was a little annoyed to lose all priority, but had resigned myself to my fate. i am going to prepare a longer abstract; but it is really impossible to do justice to the subject, except by giving the facts on which each conclusion is grounded, and that will, of course, be absolutely impossible. your name and hooker's name appearing as in any way the least interested in my work will, i am certain, have the most important bearing in leading people to consider the subject without prejudice. i look at this as so very important, that i am almost glad of wallace's paper for having led to this. my dear lyell, yours most gratefully, ch. darwin. [the following letter refers to the proof-sheets of the linnean paper. the 'introduction' means the prefatory letter signed by sir c. lyell and sir j.d. hooker.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. king's head hotel, sandown, isle of wight, july st [ ]. my dear hooker, i received only yesterday the proof-sheets, which i now return. i think your introduction cannot be improved. i am disgusted with my bad writing. i could not improve it, without rewriting all, which would not be fair or worth while, as i have begun on a better abstract for the linnean society. my excuse is that it never was intended for publication. i have made only a few corrections in the style; but i cannot make it decent, but i hope moderately intelligible. i suppose some one will correct the revise. (shall i?) could i have a clean proof to send to wallace? i have not yet fully considered your remarks on big genera (but your general concurrence is of the highest possible interest to me); nor shall i be able till i re-read my ms.; but you may rely on it that you never make a remark to me which is lost from inattention. i am particularly glad you do not object to my stating your objections in a modified form, for they always struck me as very important, and as having much inherent value, whether or no they were fatal to my notions. i will consider and reconsider all your remarks... i have ordered bentham, for, as -- says, it will be very curious to see a flora written by a man who knows nothing of british plants!! i am very glad at what you say about my abstract, but you may rely on it that i will condense to the utmost. i would aid in money if it is too long. (that is to say, he would help to pay for the printing, if it should prove too long for the linnean society.) in how many ways you have aided me! yours affectionately, c. darwin. [the 'abstract' mentioned in the last sentence of the preceding letter was in fact the 'origin of species,' on which he now set to work. in his 'autobiography' he speaks of beginning to write in september, but in his diary he wrote, "july to august , at sandown, began abstract of species book." "september , recommenced abstract." the book was begun with the idea that it would be published as a paper, or series of papers, by the linnean society, and it was only in the late autumn that it became clear that it must take the form of an independent volume.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. norfolk house, shanklin, isle of wight, friday [july] th [ ]. my dear hooker, will you give the enclosed scrap to sir william to thank him for his kindness; and this gives me an excuse to amuse myself by writing to you a note, which requires no answer. this is a very charming place, and we have got a very comfortable house. but, alas, i cannot say that the sea has done h. or l. much good. nor has my stomach recovered from all our troubles. i am very glad we left home, for six children have now died of scarlet fever in down. we return on the th of august. i have got bentham ('british flora.'), and am charmed with it, and william (who has just started for a tour abroad) has been making out all sorts of new (to me) plants capitally. the little scraps of information are so capital...the english names in the analytical keys drive us mad: give them by all means, but why on earth [not] make them subordinate to the latin; it puts me in a passion. w. charged into the compositae and umbelliferae like a hero, and demolished ever so many in grand style. i pass my time by doing daily a couple of hours of my abstract, and i find it amusing and improving work. i am now most heartily obliged to you and lyell for having set me on this; for i shall, when it is done, be able to finish my work with greater ease and leisure. i confess i hated the thought of the job; and now i find it very unsatisfactory in not being able to give my reasons for each conclusion. i will be longer than i expected; it will take thirty-five of my ms. folio pages to give an abstract on variation under domestication alone; but i will try to put in nothing which does not seem to me of some interest, and which was once new to me. it seems a queer plan to give an abstract of an unpublished work; nevertheless, i repeat, i am extremely glad i have begun in earnest on it. i hope you and mrs. hooker will have a very very pleasant tour. farewell, my dear hooker. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. norfolk house, shanklin, isle of wight, thursday [august , ]. my dear hooker, i should think the note apologetical about the style of the abstract was best as a note...but i write now to ask you to send me by return of post the ms. on big genera, that i may make an abstract of a couple of pages in length. i presume that you have quite done with it, otherwise i would not for anything have it back. if you tie it with string, and mark it ms. for printing, it will not cost, i should think, more than pence. i shall wish much to say that you have read this ms. and concur; but you shall, before i read it to the society, hear the sentence. what you tell me after speaking with busk about the length of the abstract is an immense relief to me; it will make the labour far less, not having to shorten so much every single subject; but i will try not to be too diffusive. i fear it will spoil all interest in my book (the larger book begun in .), whenever published. the abstract will do very well to divide into several parts: thus i have just finished "variation under domestication," in forty-four ms. pages, and that would do for one evening; but i should be extremely sorry if all could not be published together. what else you say about my abstract pleases me highly, but frightens me, for i fear i shall never be able to make it good enough. but how i do run on about my own affairs to you! i was astonished to see sir w. hooker's card here two or three days ago: i was unfortunately out walking. henslow, also, has written to me, proposing to come to down on the th, but alas, i do not return till the th, and my wife not till a week later; so that i am also most sorry to think i shall not see you, for i should not like to leave home so soon. i had thought of going to london and running down for an hour or two to kew... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. norfolk house, shanklin, isle of wight, [august] [ ]. my dear hooker, i write merely to say that the ms. came safely two or three days ago. i am much obliged for the correction of style: i find it unutterably difficult to write clearly. when we meet i must talk over a few points on the subject. you speak of going to the sea-side somewhere; we think this the nicest seaside place which we have ever seen, and we like shanklin better than other spots on the south coast of the island, though many are charming and prettier, so that i would suggest your thinking of this place. we are on the actual coast; but tastes differ so much about places. if you go to broadstairs, when there is a strong wind from the coast of france and in fine, dry, warm weather, look out, and you will probably (!) see thistle-seeds blown across the channel. the other day i saw one blown right inland, and then in a few minutes a second one and then a third; and i said to myself, god bless me, how many thistles there must be in france; and i wrote a letter in imagination to you. but i then looked at the low clouds, and noticed that they were not coming inland, so i feared a screw was loose. i then walked beyond a headland, and found the wind parallel to the coast, and on this very headland a noble bed of thistles, which by every wide eddy were blown far out to sea, and then came right in at right angles to the shore! one day such a number of insects were washed up by the tide, and i brought to life thirteen species of coleoptera; not that i suppose these came from france. but do you watch for thistle-seed as you saunter along the coast... charles darwin to asa gray. august th [ ]. my dear gray, your note of july th has just reached me in the isle of wight. it is a real and great pleasure to me to write to you about my notions; and even if it were not so, i should be a most ungrateful dog, after all the invaluable assistance you have rendered me, if i did not do anything which you asked. i have discussed in my long ms. the later changes of climate and the effect on migration, and i will here give you an abstract of an abstract (which latter i am preparing of my whole work for the linnean society). i cannot give you facts, and i must write dogmatically, though i do not feel so on any point. i may just mention, in order that you may believe that i have some foundation for my views, that hooker has read my ms., and though he at first demurred to my main point, he has since told me that further reflection and new facts have made him a convert. in the older, or perhaps newer, pliocene age (a little before the glacial epoch) the temperature was higher; of this there can be little doubt; the land, on a large scale, held much its present disposition: the species were mainly, judging from shells, what they are now. at this period when all animals and plants ranged or degrees nearer the poles, i believe the northern part of siberia and of north america being almost continuous, were peopled (it is quite possible, considering the shallow water, that behring straits were united, perhaps a little southward) by a nearly uniform fauna and flora, just as the arctic regions now are. the climate then became gradually colder till it became what it now is; and then the temperate parts of europe and america would be separated, as far as migration is concerned, just as they now are. then came on the glacial period, driving far south all living things; middle or even southern europe being peopled with arctic productions; as the warmth returned, the arctic productions slowly crawled up the mountains as they became denuded of snow; and we now see on their summits the remnants of a once continuous flora and fauna. this is e. forbes' theory, which, however, i may add, i had written out four years before he published. some facts have made me vaguely suspect that between the glacial and the present temperature there was a period of slightly greater warmth. according to my modification-doctrines, i look at many of the species of north america which closely represent those of europe, as having become modified since the pliocene period, when in the northern part of the world there was nearly free communication between the old and new worlds. but now comes a more important consideration; there is a considerable body of geological evidence that during the glacial epoch the whole world was colder; i inferred that, many years ago, from erratic boulder phenomena carefully observed by me on both the east and west coast of south america. now i am so bold as to believe that at the height of the glacial epoch, and when all tropical productions must have been considerably distressed, that several temperate forms slowly travelled into the heart of the tropics, and even reached the southern hemisphere; and some few southern forms penetrated in a reverse direction northward. (heights of borneo with australian forms, abyssinia with cape forms.) wherever there was nearly continuous high land, this migration would have been immensely facilitated; hence the european character of the plants of tierra del fuego and summits of cordilleras; hence ditto on himalaya. as the temperature rose, all the temperate intruders would crawl up the mountains. hence the european forms on nilgherries, ceylon, summit of java, organ mountains of brazil. but these intruders being surrounded with new forms would be very liable to be improved or modified by natural selection, to adapt them to the new forms with which they had to compete; hence most of the forms on the mountains of the tropics are not identical, but representative forms of north temperate plants. there are similar classes of facts in marine productions. all this will appear very rash to you, and rash it may be; but i am sure not so rash as it will at first appear to you: hooker could not stomach it at all at first, but has become largely a convert. from mammalia and shallow sea, i believe japan to have been joined to main land of china within no remote period; and then the migration north and south before, during, and after the glacial epoch would act on japan, as on the corresponding latitude of china and the united states. i should beyond anything like to know whether you have any alpine collections from japan, and what is their character. this letter is miserably expressed, but perhaps it will suffice to show what i believe have been the later main migrations and changes of temperature... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [down] october th, . ...if you have or can make leisure, i should very much like to hear news of mrs. hooker, yourself, and the children. where did you go, and what did you do and are doing? there is a comprehensive text. you cannot tell how i enjoyed your little visit here, it did me much good. if harvey is still with you, pray remember me very kindly to him. ...i am working most steadily at my abstract, but it grows to an inordinate length; yet fully to make my view clear (and never giving briefly more than a fact or two, and slurring over difficulties), i cannot make it shorter. it will yet take me three or four months; so slow do i work, though never idle. you cannot imagine what a service you have done me in making me make this abstract; for though i thought i had got all clear, it has clarified my brains very much, by making me weigh the relative importance of the several elements. i have been reading with much interest your (as i believe it to be) capital memoir of r. brown in the "gardeners' chronicle"... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, october th, [ ]. ...i have sent eight copies (of the joint paper by c. darwin and a.r. wallace.) by post to wallace, and will keep the others for him, for i could not think of any one to send any to. i pray you not to pronounce too strongly against natural selection, till you have read my abstract, for though i dare say you will strike out many difficulties, which have never occurred to me; yet you cannot have thought so fully on the subject as i have. i expect my abstract will run into a small volume, which will have to be published separately... what a splendid lot of work you have in hand. ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, october th [ ]. ...i have been a little vexed at myself at having asked you not "to pronounce too strongly against natural selection." i am sorry to have bothered you, though i have been much interested by your note in answer. i wrote the sentence without reflection. but the truth is, that i have so accustomed myself, partly from being quizzed by my non-naturalist relations, to expect opposition and even contempt, that i forgot for the moment that you are the one living soul from whom i have constantly received sympathy. believe [me] that i never forget for even a minute how much assistance i have received from you. you are quite correct that i never even suspected that my speculations were a "jam-pot" to you; indeed, i thought, until quite lately, that my ms. had produced no effect on you, and this has often staggered me. nor did i know that you had spoken in general terms about my work to our friends, excepting to dear old falconer, who some few years ago once told me that i should do more mischief than any ten other naturalists would do good, [and] that i had half spoiled you already! all this is stupid egotistical stuff, and i write it only because you may think me ungrateful for not having valued and understood your sympathy; which god knows is not the case. it is an accursed evil to a man to become so absorbed in any subject as i am in mine. i was in london yesterday for a few hours with falconer, and he gave me a magnificent lecture on the age of man. we are not upstarts; we can boast of a pedigree going far back in time coeval with extinct species. he has a grand fact of some large molar tooth in the trias. i am quite knocked up, and am going next monday to revive under water-cure at moor park. my dear hooker, yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. november . ...i had vowed not to mention my everlasting abstract to you again, for i am sure i have bothered you far more than enough about it; but, as you allude to its previous publication, i may say that i have the chapters on instinct and hybridism to abstract, which may take a fortnight each; and my materials for palaeontology, geographical distribution, and affinities, being less worked up, i dare say each of these will take me three weeks, so that i shall not have done at soonest till april, and then my abstract will in bulk make a small volume. i never give more than one or two instances, and i pass over briefly all difficulties, and yet i cannot make my abstract shorter, to be satisfactory, than i am now doing, and yet it will expand to a small volume... [about this time my father revived his old knowledge of beetles in helping his boys in their collecting. he sent a short notice to the 'entomologist's weekly intelligencer,' june th, , recording the capture of licinus silphoides, clytus mysticus, panagaeus -pustulatus. the notice begins with the words, "we three very young collectors having lately taken in the parish of down," etc., and is signed by three of his boys, but was clearly not written by them. i have a vivid recollection of the pleasure of turning out my bottle of dead beetles for my father to name, and the excitement, in which he fully shared, when any of them proved to be uncommon ones. the following letters to mr. fox (november , ), and to sir john lubbock, illustrate this point:] charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, november th [ ]. ...w., my son, is now at christ's college, in the rooms above yours. my old gyp, impey, was astounded to hear that he was my son, and very simply asked, "why, has he been long married?" what pleasant hours those were when i used to come and drink coffee with you daily! i am reminded of old days by my third boy having just begun collecting beetles, and he caught the other day brachinus crepitans, of immortal whittlesea mere memory. my blood boiled with old ardour when he caught a licinus--a prize unknown to me... charles darwin to john lubbock. thursday [before ]. dear lubbock, i do not know whether you care about beetles, but for the chance i send this in a bottle, which i never remember having seen; though it is excessively rash to speak from a twenty-five-year old remembrance. whenever we meet you can tell me whether you know it... i feel like an old war-horse at the sound of the trumpet, when i read about the capturing of rare beetles--is not this a magnanimous simile for a decayed entomologist?--it really almost makes me long to begin collecting again. adios. "floreat entomologia"!--to which toast at cambridge i have drunk many a glass of wine. so again, "floreat entomologia." n.b. i have not now been drinking any glasses full of wine. yours, c.d. charles darwin to herbert spencer. down, november th [ ]. dear sir, i beg permission to thank you sincerely for your very kind present of your essays. ('essays, scientific, political, and speculative,' by herbert spencer, - .) i have already read several of them with much interest. your remarks on the general argument of the so-called development theory seems to me admirable. i am at present preparing an abstract of a larger work on the changes of species; but i treat the subject simply as a naturalist, and not from a general point of view, otherwise, in my opinion, your argument could not have been improved on, and might have been quoted by me with great advantage. your article on music has also interested me much, for i had often thought on the subject, and had come to nearly the same conclusion with you, though unable to support the notion in any detail. furthermore, by a curious coincidence, expression has been for years a persistent subject with me for loose speculation, and i must entirely agree with you that all expression has some biological meaning. i hope to profit by your criticism on style, and with very best thanks, i beg leave to remain, dear sir, yours truly obliged, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. my dear hooker, your news about your unsolicited salary and house is jolly, and creditable to the government. my room ( x ), with divided room above, with all fixtures (and painted), not furniture, and plastered outside, cost about pounds. i am heartily glad of this news. your facts about distribution are, indeed, very striking. i remember well that none of your many wonderful facts in your several works, perplexed me, for years, more than the migration having been mainly from north to south, and not in the reverse direction. i have now at last satisfied myself (but that is very different from satisfying others) on this head; but it would take a little volume to fully explain myself. i did not for long see the bearing of a conclusion, at which i had arrived, with respect to this subject. it is, that species inhabiting a very large area, and therefore existing in large numbers, and which have been subjected to the severest competition with many other forms, will have arrived, through natural selection, at a higher stage of perfection than the inhabitants of a small area. thus i explain the fact of so many anomalies, or what may be called "living fossils," inhabiting now only fresh water, having been beaten out, and exterminated in the sea, by more improved forms; thus all existing ganoid fishes are fresh water, as [are] lepidosiren and ornithorhynchus, etc. the plants of europe and asia, as being the largest territory, i look at as the most "improved," and therefore as being able to withstand the less-perfected australian plants; [whilst] these could not resist the indian. see how all the productions of new zealand yield to those of europe. i dare say you will think all this utter bosh, but i believe it to be solid truth. you will, i think, admit that australian plants, flourishing so in india, is no argument that they could hold their own against the ten thousand natural contingencies of other plants, insects, animals, etc., etc. with respect to south west australia and the cape, i am shut up, and can only d--n the whole case. ...you say you should like to see my ms., but you did read and approve of my long glacial chapter, and i have not yet written my abstract on the whole of the geographical distribution, nor shall i begin it for two or three weeks. but either abstract or the old ms. i should be delighted to send you, especially the abstract chapter... i have now written folio pages of my abstract, and it will require - [more]; so that it will make a printed volume of pages, and must be printed separately, which i think will be better in many respects. the subject really seems to me too large for discussion at any society, and i believe religion would be brought in by men whom i know. i am thinking of a mo volume, like lyell's fourth or fifth edition of the 'principles.'... i have written you a scandalously long note. so now good-bye, my dear hooker, ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, january th, . my dear hooker, i should very much like to borrow heer at some future time, for i want to read nothing perplexing at present till my abstract is done. your last very instructive letter shall make me very cautious on the hyper-speculative points we have been discussing. when you say you cannot master the train of thoughts, i know well enough that they are too doubtful and obscure to be mastered. i have often experienced what you call the humiliating feeling of getting more and more involved in doubt the more one thinks of the facts and reasoning on doubtful points. but i always comfort myself with thinking of the future, and in the full belief that the problems which we are just entering on, will some day be solved; and if we just break the ground we shall have done some service, even if we reap no harvest. i quite agree that we only differ in degree about the means of dispersal, and that i think a satisfactory amount of accordance. you put in a very striking manner the mutation of our continents, and i quite agree; i doubt only about our oceans. i also agree (i am in a very agreeing frame of mind) with your argumentum ad hominem, about the highness of the australian flora from the number of species and genera; but here comes in a superlative bothering element of doubt, viz., the effect of isolation. the only point in which i presumptuously rather demur is about the status of the naturalised plants in australia. i think muller speaks of their having spread largely beyond cultivated ground; and i can hardly believe that our european plants would occupy stations so barren that the native plants could not live there. i should require much evidence to make me believe this. i have written this note merely to thank you, as you will see it requires no answer. i have heard to my amazement this morning from phillips that the geological council have given me the wollaston medal!!! ever yours, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, january d, . ...i enclose letters to you and me from wallace. i admire extremely the spirit in which they are written. i never felt very sure what he would say. he must be an amiable man. please return that to me, and lyell ought to be told how well satisfied he is. these letters have vividly brought before me how much i owe to your and lyell's most kind and generous conduct in all this affair. ...how glad i shall be when the abstract is finished, and i can rest!... charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, january th [ ]. my dear sir, i was extremely much pleased at receiving three days ago your letter to me and that to dr. hooker. permit me to say how heartily i admire the spirit in which they are written. though i had absolutely nothing whatever to do in leading lyell and hooker to what they thought a fair course of action, yet i naturally could not but feel anxious to hear what your impression would be. i owe indirectly much to you and them; for i almost think that lyell would have proved right, and i should never have completed my larger work, for i have found my abstract hard enough with my poor health, but now, thank god, i am in my last chapter but one. my abstract will make a small volume of or pages. whenever published, i will, of course, send you a copy, and then you will see what i mean about the part which i believe selection has played with domestic productions. it is a very different part, as you suppose, from that played by "natural selection." i sent off, by the same address as this note, a copy of the 'journal of the linnean society,' and subsequently i have sent some half-dozen copies of the paper. i have many other copies at your disposal... i am glad to hear that you have been attending to birds' nests. i have done so, though almost exclusively under one point of view, viz., to show that instincts vary, so that selection could work on and improve them. few other instincts, so to speak, can be preserved in a museum. many thanks for your offer to look after horses' stripes; if there are any donkeys, pray add them. i am delighted to hear that you have collected bees' combs...this is an especial hobby of mine, and i think i can throw a light on the subject. if you can collect duplicates, at no very great expense, i should be glad of some specimens for myself with some bees of each kind. young, growing, and irregular combs, and those which have not had pupae, are most valuable for measurements and examination. their edges should be well protected against abrasion. every one whom i have seen has thought your paper very well written and interesting. it puts my extracts (written in , now just twenty years ago!), which i must say in apology were never for an instant intended for publication, into the shade. you ask about lyell's frame of mind. i think he is somewhat staggered, but does not give in, and speaks with horror, often to me, of what a thing it would be, and what a job it would be for the next edition of 'the principles,' if he were "perverted." but he is most candid and honest, and i think will end by being perverted. dr. hooker has become almost as heterodox as you or i, and i look at hooker as by far the most capable judge in europe. most cordially do i wish you health and entire success in all your pursuits, and, god knows, if admirable zeal and energy deserve success, most amply do you deserve it. i look at my own career as nearly run out. if i can publish my abstract and perhaps my greater work on the same subject, i shall look at my course as done. believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, march nd [ ]. my dear hooker, here is an odd, though very little, fact. i think it would be hardly possible to name a bird which apparently could have less to do with distribution than a petrel. sir w. milner, at st. kilda, cut open some young nestling petrels, and he found large, curious nuts in their crops; i suspect picked up by parent birds from the gulf stream. he seems to value these nuts excessively. i have asked him (but i doubt whether he will) to send a nut to sir william hooker (i gave this address for grandeur sake) to see if any of you can name it and its native country. will you please mention this to sir william hooker, and if the nut does arrive, will you oblige me by returning it to "sir w. milner, bart., nunappleton, tadcaster," in a registered letter, and i will repay you postage. enclose slip of paper with the name and country if you can, and let me hereafter know. forgive me asking you to take this much trouble; for it is a funny little fact after my own heart. now for another subject. i have finished my abstract of the chapter on geographical distribution, as bearing on my subject. i should like you much to read it; but i say this, believing that you will not do so, if, as i believe to be the case, you are extra busy. on my honour, i shall not be mortified, and i earnestly beg you not to do it, if it will bother you. i want it, because i here feel especially unsafe, and errors may have crept in. also, i should much like to know what parts you will most vehemently object to. i know we do, and must, differ widely on several heads. lastly, i should like particularly to know whether i have taken anything from you, which you would like to retain for first publication; but i think i have chiefly taken from your published works, and, though i have several times, in this chapter and elsewhere, acknowledged your assistance, i am aware that it is not possible for me in the abstract to do it sufficiently. ("i never did pick any one's pocket, but whilst writing my present chapter i keep on feeling (even when differing most from you) just as if i were stealing from you, so much do i owe to your writings and conversation, so much more than mere acknowledgments show."--letter to sir j.d. hooker, .) but again let me say that you must not offer to read it if very irksome. it is long--about ninety pages, i expect, when fully copied out. i hope you are all well. moor park has done me some good. yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--heaven forgive me, here is another question: how far am i right in supposing that with plants, the most important characters for main divisions are embryological? the seed itself cannot be considered as such, i suppose, nor the albumens, etc. but i suppose the cotyledons and their position, and the position of the plumule and the radicle, and the position and form of the whole embryo in the seed are embryological, and how far are these very important? i wish to instance plants as a case of high importance of embryological characters in classification. in the animal kingdom there is, of course, no doubt of this. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, march th [ ]. my dear hooker, many thanks about the seed...it is curious. petrels at st. kilda apparently being fed by seeds raised in the west indies. it should be noted whether it is a nut ever imported into england. i am very glad you will read my geographical ms.; it is now copying, and it will (i presume) take ten days or so in being finished; it shall be sent as soon as done... i shall be very glad to see your embryological ideas on plants; by the sentence which i sent you, you will see that i only want one sentence; if facts are at all, as i suppose, and i shall see this from your note, for sending which very many thanks. i have been so poorly, the last three days, that i sometimes doubt whether i shall ever get my little volume done, though so nearly completed... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, march th [ ]. my dear hooker, i am pleased at what you say of my chapter. you have not attacked it nearly so much as i feared you would. you do not seem to have detected many errors. it was nearly all written from memory, and hence i was particularly fearful; it would have been better if the whole had first been carefully written out, and abstracted afterwards. i look at it as morally certain that it must include much error in some of its general views. i will just run over a few points in your note, but do not trouble yourself to reply without you have something important to say... ...i should like to know whether the case of endemic bats in islands struck you; it has me especially; perhaps too strongly. with hearty thanks, ever yours, c. darwin. p.s. you cannot tell what a relief it has been to me your looking over this chapter, as i felt very shaky on it. i shall to-morrow finish my last chapter (except a recapitulation) on affinities, homologies, embryology, etc., and the facts seem to me to come out very strong for mutability of species. i have been much interested in working out the chapter. i shall now, thank god, begin looking over the old first chapters for press. but my health is now so very poor, that even this will take me long. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down [march] th [ ]. my dear fox, it was very good of you to write to me in the midst of all your troubles, though you seem to have got over some of them, in the recovery of your wife's and your own health. i had not heard lately of your mother's health, and am sorry to hear so poor an account. but as she does not suffer much, that is the great thing; for mere life i do not think is much valued by the old. what a time you must have had of it, when you had to go backwards and forwards. we are all pretty well, and our eldest daughter is improving. i can see daylight through my work, and am now finally correcting my chapters for the press; and i hope in a month or six weeks to have proof-sheets. i am weary of my work. it is a very odd thing that i have no sensation that i overwork my brain; but facts compel me to conclude that my brain was never formed for much thinking. we are resolved to go for two or three months, when i have finished, to ilkley, or some such place, to see if i can anyhow give my health a good start, for it certainly has been wretched of late, and has incapacitated me for everything. you do me injustice when you think that i work for fame; i value it to a certain extent; but, if i know myself, i work from a sort of instinct to try to make out truth. how glad i should be if you could sometime come to down; especially when i get a little better, as i still hope to be. we have set up a billiard table, and i find it does me a deal of good, and drives the horrid species out of my head. farewell, my dear old friend. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, march th [ ]. my dear lyell, if i keep decently well, i hope to be able to go to press with my volume early in may. this being so, i want much to beg a little advice from you. from an expression in lady lyell's note, i fancy that you have spoken to murray. is it so? and is he willing to publish my abstract? if you will tell me whether anything, and what has passed, i will then write to him. does he know at all of the subject of the book? secondly, can you advise me, whether i had better state what terms of publication i should prefer, or first ask him to propose terms? and what do you think would be fair terms for an edition? share profits, or what? lastly, will you be so very kind as to look at the enclosed title and give me your opinion and any criticisms; you must remember that, if i have health and it appears worth doing, i have a much larger and full book on the same subject nearly ready. my abstract will be about five hundred pages of the size of your first edition of the 'elements of geology.' pray forgive me troubling you with the above queries; and you shall have no more trouble on the subject. i hope the world goes well with you, and that you are getting on with your various works. i am working very hard for me, and long to finish and be free and try to recover some health. my dear lyell, ever yours, c. darwin. very sincere thanks to you for standing my proxy for the wollaston medal. p.s. would you advise me to tell murray that my book is not more un-orthodox than the subject makes inevitable. that i do not discuss the origin of man. that i do not bring in any discussion about genesis, etc., etc., and only give facts, and such conclusions from them as seem to me fair. or had i better say nothing to murray, and assume that he cannot object to this much unorthodoxy, which in fact is not more than any geological treatise which runs slap counter to genesis. inclosure. an abstract of an essay on the origin of species and varieties through natural selection by charles darwin, m.a. fellow of the royal geological and linnean societies... london: etc., etc., etc., etc. . charles darwin to c. lyell. down, march th [ ]. my dear lyell, you have been uncommonly kind in all you have done. you not only have saved me much trouble and some anxiety, but have done all incomparably better than i could have done it. i am much pleased at all you say about murray. i will write either to-day or to-morrow to him, and will send shortly a large bundle of ms., but unfortunately i cannot for a week, as the first three chapters are in the copyists' hands. i am sorry about murray objecting to the term abstract, as i look at it as the only possible apology for not giving references and facts in full, but i will defer to him and you. i am also sorry about the term "natural selection." i hope to retain it with explanation somewhat as thus-- "through natural selection, or the preservation of favoured races." why i like the term is that it is constantly used in all works on breeding, and i am surprised that it is not familiar to murray; but i have so long studied such works that i have ceased to be a competent judge. i again most truly and cordially thank you for your really valuable assistance. yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, april nd [ ]. ...i wrote to him [mr. murray] and gave him the headings of the chapters, and told him he could not have the ms. for ten days or so; and this morning i received a letter, offering me handsome terms, and agreeing to publish without seeing the ms.! so he is eager enough; i think i should have been cautious, anyhow, but, owing to your letter, i told him most explicitly that i accept his offer solely on condition that, after he has seen part or all the ms., he has full power of retracting. you will think me presumptuous, but i think my book will be popular to a certain extent (enough to ensure [against] heavy loss) amongst scientific and semi-scientific men; why i think so is, because i have found in conversation so great and surprising an interest amongst such men, and some o-scientific [non-scientific] men on this subject, and all my chapters are not nearly so dry and dull as that which you have read on geographical distribution. anyhow, murray ought to be the best judge, and if he chooses to publish it, i think i may wash my hands of all responsibility. i am sure my friends, i.e., lyell and you, have been extraordinarily kind in troubling yourselves on the matter. i shall be delighted to see you the day before good friday; there would be one advantage for you in any other day--as i believe both my boys come home on that day--and it would be almost impossible that i could send the carriage for you. there will, i believe, be some relations in the house--but i hope you will not care for that, as we shall easily get as much talking as my imbecile state allows. i shall deeply enjoy seeing you. ...i am tired, so no more. my dear hooker, your affectionate, c. darwin. p.s.--please to send, well tied up with strong string, my geographical ms., towards the latter half of next week--i.e., th or th--that i may send it with more to murray; and god help him if he tries to read it. ...i cannot help a little doubting whether lyell would take much pains to induce murray to publish my book; this was not done at my request, and it rather grates against my pride. i know that lyell has been infinitely kind about my affair, but your dashed (i.e., underlined) "induce" gives the idea that lyell had unfairly urged murray. charles darwin to asa gray. april th [ ]. ...you ask to see my sheets as printed off; i assure you that it will be the highest satisfaction to me to do so: i look at the request as a high compliment. i shall not, you may depend, forget a request which i look at as a favour. but (and it is a heavy "but" to me) it will be long before i go to press; i can truly say i am never idle; indeed, i work too hard for my much weakened health; yet i can do only three hours of work daily, and i cannot at all see when i shall have finished: i have done eleven long chapters, but i have got some other very difficult ones: as palaeontology, classifications, and embryology, etc., and i have to correct and add largely to all those done. i find, alas! each chapter takes me on an average three months, so slow i am. there is no end to the necessary digressions. i have just finished a chapter on instinct, and here i found grappling with such a subject as bees' cells, and comparing all my notes made during twenty years, took up a despairing length of time. but i am running on about myself in a most egotistical style. yet i must just say how useful i have again and again found your letters, which i have lately been looking over and quoting! but you need not fear that i shall quote anything you would dislike, for i try to be very cautious on this head. i most heartily hope you may succeed in getting your "incubus" of old work off your hands, and be in some degree a free man... again let me say that i do indeed feel grateful to you... charles darwin to j. murray. down, april th [ ]. my dear sir, i send by this post, the title (with some remarks on a separate page), and the first three chapters. if you have patience to read all chapter i., i honestly think you will have a fair notion of the interest of the whole book. it may be conceit, but i believe the subject will interest the public, and i am sure that the views are original. if you think otherwise, i must repeat my request that you will freely reject my work; and though i shall be a little disappointed, i shall be in no way injured. if you choose to read chapters ii. and iii., you will have a dull and rather abstruse chapter, and a plain and interesting one, in my opinion. as soon as you have done with the ms., please to send it by careful messenger, and plainly directed, to miss g. tollett, , queen anne street, cavendish square. this lady, being an excellent judge of style, is going to look out for errors for me. you must take your own time, but the sooner you finish, the sooner she will, and the sooner i shall get to press, which i so earnestly wish. i presume you will wish to see chapter iv., the key-stone of my arch, and chapters x. and xi., but please to inform me on this head. my dear sir, yours sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. ...i write one line to say that i heard from murray yesterday, and he says he has read the first three chapters of one ms.(and this includes a very dull one), and he abides by his offer. hence he does not want more ms., and you can send my geographical chapter when it pleases you... [part of the ms. seems to have been lost on its way back to my father; he wrote (april ) to sir j.d. hooker:] "i have the old ms., otherwise, the loss would have killed me! the worst is now that it will cause delay in getting to press, and far worst of all, lose all advantage of your having looked over my chapter, except the third part returned. i am very sorry mrs. hooker took the trouble of copying the two pages." charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [april or may, ]. ...please do not say to any one that i thought my book on species would be fairly popular, and have a fairly remunerative sale (which was the height of my ambition), for if it prove a dead failure, it would make me the more ridiculous. i enclose a criticism, a taste of the future-- rev. s. haughton's address to the geological society, dublin. (february , .) "this speculation of messrs. darwin and wallace would not be worthy of notice were it not for the weight of authority of the names (i.e. lyell's and yours), under whose auspices it has been brought forward. if it means what it says, it is a truism; if it means anything more, it is contrary to fact." q.e.d. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. my dear hooker, thank you for telling me about obscurity of style. but on my life no nigger with lash over him could have worked harder at clearness than i have done. but the very difficulty to me, of itself leads to the probability that i fail. yet one lady who has read all my ms. has found only two or three obscure sentences, but mrs. hooker having so found it, makes me tremble. i will do my best in proofs. you are a good man to take the trouble to write about it. with respect to our mutual muddle ("when i go over the chapter i will see what i can do, but i hardly know how i am obscure, and i think we are somehow in a mutual muddle with respect to each other, from starting from some fundamentally different notions."--letter of may , .), i never for a moment thought we could not make our ideas clear to each other by talk, or if either of us had time to write in extenso. i imagine from some expressions (but if you ask me what, i could not answer) that you look at variability as some necessary contingency with organisms, and further that there is some necessary tendency in the variability to go on diverging in character or degree. if you do, i do not agree. "reversion" again (a form of inheritance), i look at as in no way directly connected with variation, though of course inheritance is of fundamental importance to us, for if a variation be not inherited, it is of no significance to us. it was on such points as these i fancied that we perhaps started differently. i fear that my book will not deserve at all the pleasant things you say about it; and good lord, how i do long to have done with it! since the above was written, i have received and have been much interested by a. gray. i am delighted at his note about my and wallace's paper. he will go round, for it is futile to give up very many species, and stop at an arbitrary line at others. it is what my grandfather called unitarianism, "a feather bed to catch a falling christian."... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. my dear hooker, my health has quite failed. i am off to-morrow for a week of hydropathy. i am very very sorry to say that i cannot look over any proofs (of sir j. hooker's introduction to the 'flora of australia.') in the week, as my object is to drive the subject out of my head. i shall return to-morrow week. if it be worth while, which probably it is not, you could keep back any proofs till my return home. in haste, ever yours, c. darwin. [ten days later he wrote to sir j.d. hooker: "...i write one word to say that i shall return on saturday, and if you have any proof-sheets to send, i shall be glad to do my best in any criticisms. i had... great prostration of mind and body, but entire rest, and the douche, and 'adam bede,' have together done me a world of good."] charles darwin to j. murray. down, june th [ ]. my dear sir, the diagram will do very well, and i will send it shortly to mr. west to have a few trifling corrections made. i get on very slowly with proofs. i remember writing to you that i thought there would not be much correction. i honestly wrote what i thought, but was most grievously mistaken. i find the style incredibly bad, and most difficult to make clear and smooth. i am extremely sorry to say, on account of expense, and loss of time for me, that the corrections are very heavy, as heavy as possible. but from casual glances, i still hope that later chapters are not so badly written. how i could have written so badly is quite inconceivable, but i suppose it was owing to my whole attention being fixed on the general line of argument, and not on details. all i can say is, that i am very sorry. yours very sincerely, c. darwin. p.s. i have been looking at the corrections, and considering them. it seems to me that i shall put you to a quite unfair expense. if you please i should like to enter into some such arrangement as the following: when work completed, you to allow in the account a fairly moderately heavy charge for corrections, and all excess over that to be deducted from my profits, or paid by me individually. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, june st [ ]. i am working very hard, but get on slowly, for i find that my corrections are terrifically heavy, and the work most difficult to me. i have corrected pages, and the volume will be about . i have tried my best to make it clear and striking, but very much fear that i have failed--so many discussions are and must be very perplexing. i have done my best. if you had all my materials, i am sure you would have made a splendid book. i long to finish, for i am nearly worn out. my dear lyell, ever yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, nd [june, ]. my dear hooker, i did not answer your pleasant note, with a good deal of news to me, of may th, as i have been expecting proofs from you. but now, having nothing particular to do, i will fly a note, though i have nothing particular to say or ask. indeed, how can a man have anything to say, who spends every day in correcting accursed proofs; and such proofs! i have fairly to blacken them, and fasten slips of paper on, so miserable have i found the style. you say that you dreamt that my book was entertaining; that dream is pretty well over with me, and i begin to fear that the public will find it intolerably dry and perplexing. but i will never give up that a better man could have made a splendid book out of the materials. i was glad to hear about prestwich's paper. (mr. prestwich wrote on the occurrence of flint instruments associated with the remains of extinct animals in france.--(proc. r. soc., .)) my doubt has been (and i see wright has inserted the same in the 'athenaeum') whether the pieces of flint are really tools; their numbers make me doubt, and when i formerly looked at boucher de perthe's drawings, i came to the conclusion that they were angular fragments broken by ice action. did crossing the acacia do any good? i am so hard worked, that i can make no experiments. i have got only to pages in first proof. adios, my dear hooker, ever yours, charles darwin. charles darwin to j. murray. down, july th [ ]. my dear sir, i write to say that five sheets are returned to the printers ready to strike off, and two more sheets require only a revise; so that i presume you will soon have to decide what number of copies to print off. i am quite incapable of forming an opinion. i think i have got the style fairly good and clear, with infinite trouble. but whether the book will be successful to a degree to satisfy you, i really cannot conjecture. i heartily hope it may. my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, august th, . my dear mr. wallace, i received your letter and memoir (this seems to refer to mr. wallace's paper, "on the zoological geography of the malay archipelago," 'linn. soc. journ,' .) on the th, and will forward it to-morrow to the linnean society. but you will be aware that there is no meeting till the beginning of november. your paper seems to me admirable in matter, style, and reasoning; and i thank you for allowing me to read it. had i read it some months ago, i should have profited by it for my forthcoming volume. but my two chapters on this subject are in type, and, though not yet corrected, i am so wearied out and weak in health, that i am fully resolved not to add one word, and merely improve the style. so you will see that my views are nearly the same with yours, and you may rely on it that not one word shall be altered owing to my having read your ideas. are you aware that mr. w. earl (probably mr. w. earle's paper, geographical soc. journal, .) published several years ago the view of distribution of animals in the malay archipelago, in relation to the depth of the sea between the islands? i was much struck with this, and have been in the habit of noting all facts in distribution in that archipelago, and elsewhere, in this relation. i have been led to conclude that there has been a good deal of naturalisation in the different malay islands, and which i have thought, to a certain extent, would account for anomalies. timor has been my greatest puzzle. what do you say to the peculiar felis there? i wish that you had visited timor; it has been asserted that a fossil mastodon's or elephant's tooth (i forget which) has been found there, which would be a grand fact. i was aware that celebes was very peculiar; but the relation to africa is quite new to me, and marvellous, and almost passes belief. it is as anomalous as the relation of plants in s.w. australia to the cape of good hope. i differ wholly from you on the colonisation of oceanic islands, but you will have every one else on your side. i quite agree with respect to all islands not situated far in the ocean. i quite agree on the little occasional intermigration between lands [islands?] when once pretty well stocked with inhabitants, but think this does not apply to rising and ill-stocked islands. are you aware that annually birds are blown to madeira, the azores (and to bermuda from america). i wish i had given a fuller abstract of my reasons for not believing in forbes' great continental extensions; but it is too late, for i will alter nothing--i am worn out, and must have rest. owen, i do not doubt, will bitterly oppose us...hooker is publishing a grand introduction to the flora of australia, and goes the whole length. i have seen proofs of about half. with every good wish. believe me, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, september st [ ]. ...i am not surprised at your finding your introduction very difficult. but do not grudge the labour, and do not say you "have burnt your fingers," and are "deep in the mud"; for i feel sure that the result will be well worth the labour. unless i am a fool, i must be a judge to some extent of the value of such general essays, and i am fully convinced that yours are the must valuable ever published. i have corrected all but the last two chapters of my book, and hope to have done revises and all in about three weeks, and then i (or we all) shall start for some months' hydropathy; my health has been very bad, and i am becoming as weak as a child, and incapable of doing anything whatever, except my three hours daily work at proof-sheets. god knows whether i shall ever be good at anything again, perhaps a long rest and hydropathy may do something. i have not had a. gray's essay, and should not feel up to criticise it, even if i had the impertinence and courage. you will believe me that i speak strictly the truth when i say that your australian essay is extremely interesting to me, rather too much so. i enjoy reading it over, and if you think my criticisms are worth anything to you, i beg you to send the sheets (if you can give me time for good days); but unless i can render you any little, however little assistance, i would rather read the essay when published. pray understand that i should be truly vexed not to read them, if you wish it for your own sake. i had a terribly long fit of sickness yesterday, which makes the world rather extra gloomy to-day, and i have an insanely strong wish to finish my accursed book, such corrections every page has required as i never saw before. it is so weariful, killing the whole afternoon, after o'clock doing nothing whatever. but i will grumble no more. so farewell, we shall meet in the winter i trust. farewell, my dear hooker, your affectionate friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, september nd [ ]. ...i am very glad you wish to see my clean sheets: i should have offered them, but did not know whether it would bore you; i wrote by this morning's post to murray to send them. unfortunately i have not got to the part which will interest you, i think most, and which tells most in favour of the view, viz., geological succession, geographical distribution, and especially morphology, embryology and rudimentary organs. i will see that the remaining sheets, when printed off, are sent to you. but would you like for me to send the last and perfect revises of the sheets as i correct them? if so, send me your address in a blank envelope. i hope that you will read all, whether dull (especially latter part of chapter ii.) or not, for i am convinced there is not a sentence which has not a bearing on the whole argument. you will find chapter iv. perplexing and unintelligible, without the aid of the enclosed queer diagram (the diagram illustrates descent with divergence.), of which i send an old and useless proof. i have, as murray says, corrected so heavily, as almost to have re-written it; but yet i fear it is poorly written. parts are intricate; and i do not think that even you could make them quite clear. do not, i beg, be in a hurry in committing yourself (like so many naturalists) to go a certain length and no further; for i am deeply convinced that it is absolutely necessary to go the whole vast length, or stick to the creation of each separate species; i argue this point briefly in the last chapter. remember that your verdict will probably have more influence than my book in deciding whether such views as i hold will be admitted or rejected at present; in the future i cannot doubt about their admittance, and our posterity will marvel as much about the current belief as we do about fossils shells having been thought to have been created as we now see them. but forgive me for running on about my hobby-horse... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [september] th [ ]. my dear hooker, i corrected the last proof yesterday, and i have now my revises, index, etc., which will take me near to the end of the month. so that the neck of my work, thank god, is broken. i write now to say that i am uneasy in my conscience about hesitating to look over your proofs, but i was feeling miserably unwell and shattered when i wrote. i do not suppose i could be of hardly any use, but if i could, pray send me any proofs. i should be (and fear i was) the most ungrateful man to hesitate to do anything for you after some fifteen or more years' help from you. as soon as ever i have fairly finished i shall be off to ilkley, or some other hydropathic establishment. but i shall be some time yet, as my proofs have been so utterly obscured with corrections, that i have to correct heavily on revises. murray proposes to publish the first week in november. oh, good heavens, the relief to my head and body to banish the whole subject from my mind! i hope to god, you do not think me a brute about your proof-sheets. farewell, yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, september th [ ]. my dear lyell, you once gave me intense pleasure, or rather delight, by the way you were interested, in a manner i never expected, in my coral reef notions, and now you have again given me similar pleasure by the manner you have noticed my species work. (sir charles was president of the geological section at the meeting of the british association at aberdeen in . the following passage occurs in the address: "on this difficult and mysterious subject a work will very shortly appear by mr. charles darwin, the result of twenty years of observations and experiments in zoology, botany, and geology, by which he had been led to the conclusion that those powers of nature which give rise to races and permanent varieties in animals and plants, are the same as those which in much longer periods produce species, and in a still longer series of ages give rise to differences of generic rank. he appears to me to have succeeded by his investigations and reasonings in throwing a flood of light on many classes of phenomena connected with the affinities, geographical distribution, and geological succession of organic beings, for which no other hypothesis has been able, or has even attempted to account.") nothing could be more satisfactory to me, and i thank you for myself, and even more for the subject's sake, as i know well that the sentence will make many fairly consider the subject, instead of ridiculing it. although your previously felt doubts on the immutability of species, may have more influence in converting you (if you be converted) than my book; yet as i regard your verdict as far more important in my own eyes, and i believe in the eyes of the world than of any other dozen men, i am naturally very anxious about it. therefore let me beg you to keep your mind open till you receive (in perhaps a fortnight's time) my latter chapters, which are the most important of all on the favourable side. the last chapter, which sums up and balances in a mass all the arguments contra and pro, will, i think, be useful to you. i cannot too strongly express my conviction of the general truth of my doctrines, and god knows i have never shirked a difficulty. i am foolishly anxious for your verdict, not that i shall be disappointed if you are not converted; for i remember the long years it took me to come round; but i shall be most deeply delighted if you do come round, especially if i have a fair share in the conversion, i shall then feel that my career is run, and care little whether i ever am good for anything again in this life. thank you much for allowing me to put in the sentence about your grave doubt. (as to the immutability of species, 'origin,' edition i., page .) so much and too much about myself. i have read with extreme interest in the aberdeen paper about the flint tools; you have made the whole case far clearer to me; i suppose that you did not think the evidence sufficient about the glacial period. with cordial thanks for your splendid notice of my book. believe me, my dear lyell, your affectionate disciple, charles darwin. charles darwin to w.d. fox. down, september rd [ ]. my dear fox, i was very glad to get your letter a few days ago. i was wishing to hear about you, but have been in such an absorbed, slavish, overworked state, that i had not heart without compulsion to write to any one or do anything beyond my daily work. though your account of yourself is better, i cannot think it at all satisfactory, and i wish you would soon go to malvern again. my father used to believe largely in an old saying that, if a man grew thinner between fifty and sixty years of age, his chance of long life was poor, and that on the contrary it was a very good sign if he grew fatter; so that your stoutness, i look at as a very good omen. my health has been as bad as it well could be all this summer; and i have kept on my legs, only by going at short intervals to moor park; but i have been better lately, and, thank heaven, i have at last as good as done my book, having only the index and two or three revises to do. it will be published in the first week in november, and a copy shall be sent you. remember it is only an abstract (but has cost me above thirteen months to write!!), and facts and authorities are far from given in full. i shall be curious to hear what you think of it, but i am not so silly as to expect to convert you. lyell has read about half of the volume in clean sheets, and gives me very great kudos. he is wavering so much about the immutability of species, that i expect he will come round. hooker has come round, and will publish his belief soon. so much for my abominable volume, which has cost me so much labour that i almost hate it. on october rd i start for ilkley, but shall take three days for the journey! it is so late that we shall not take a house; but i go there alone for three or four weeks, then return home for a week and go to moor park for three or four weeks, and then i shall get a moderate spell of hydropathy: and i intend, if i can keep to my resolution, of being idle this winter. but i fear ennui will be as bad as a bad stomach... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, september th [ ]. my dear lyell, i send by this post four corrected sheets. i have altered the sentence about the eocene fauna being beaten by recent, thanks to your remark. but i imagined that it would have been clear that i supposed the climate to be nearly similar; you do not doubt, i imagine, that the climate of the eocene and recent periods in different parts of the world could be matched. not that i think climate nearly so important as most naturalists seem to think. in my opinion no error is more mischievous than this. i was very glad to find that hooker, who read over, in ms., my geographical chapters, quite agreed in the view of the greater importance of organic relations. i should like you to consider page and reflect on the case of any organism in the midst of its range. i shall be curious hereafter to hear what you think of distribution during the glacial and preceding warmer periods. i am so glad you do not think the chapter on the imperfection of the geological record exaggerated; i was more fearful about this chapter than about any part. embryology in chapter viii. is one of my strongest points i think. but i must not bore you by running on. my mind is so wearisomely full of the subject. i do thank you for your eulogy at aberdeen. i have been so wearied and exhausted of late that i have for months doubted whether i have not been throwing away time and labour for nothing. but now i care not what the universal world says; i have always found you right, and certainly on this occasion i am not going to doubt for the first time. whether you go far, or but a very short way with me and others who believe as i do, i am contented, for my work cannot be in vain. you would laugh if you knew how often i have read your paragraph, and it has acted like a little dram... farewell, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, september th [ ]. my dear lyell, i sent off this morning the last sheets, but without index, which is not in type. i look at you as my lord high chancellor in natural science, and therefore i request you, after you have finished, just to rerun over the heads in the recapitulation-part of last chapter. i shall be deeply anxious to hear what you decide (if you are able to decide) on the balance of the pros and contras given in my volume, and of such other pros and contras as may occur to you. i hope that you will think that i have given the difficulties fairly. i feel an entire conviction that if you are now staggered to any moderate extent, that you will come more and more round, the longer you keep the subject at all before your mind. i remember well how many long years it was before i could look into the faces of some of the difficulties and not feel quite abashed. i fairly struck my colours before the case of neuter insects. i suppose that i am a very slow thinker, for you would be surprised at the number of years it took me to see clearly what some of the problems were which had to be solved, such as the necessity of the principle of divergence of character, the extinction of intermediate varieties, on a continuous area, with graduated conditions; the double problem of sterile first crosses and sterile hybrids, etc., etc. looking back, i think it was more difficult to see what the problems were than to solve them, so far as i have succeeded in doing, and this seems to me rather curious. well, good or bad, my work, thank god, is over; and hard work, i can assure you, i have had, and much work which has never borne fruit. you can see, by the way i am scribbling, that i have an idle and rainy afternoon. i was not able to start for ilkley yesterday as i was too unwell; but i hope to get there on tuesday or wednesday. do, i beg you, when you have finished my book and thought a little over it, let me hear from you. never mind and pitch into me, if you think it requisite; some future day, in london possibly, you may give me a few criticisms in detail, that is, if you have scribbled any remarks on the margin, for the chance of a second edition. murray has printed copies, which seems to me rather too large an edition, but i hope he will not lose. i make as much fuss about my book as if it were my first. forgive me, and believe me, my dear lyell, yours most sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. ilkley, yorkshire, october th [ ]. my dear hooker, be a good man and screw out time enough to write me a note and tell me a little about yourself, your doings, and belongings. is your introduction fairly finished? i know you will abuse it, and i know well how much i shall like it. i have been here nearly a fortnight, and it has done me very much good, though i sprained my ankle last sunday, which has quite stopped walking. all my family come here on monday to stop three or four weeks, and then i shall go back to the great establishment, and stay a fortnight; so that if i can keep my spirits, i shall stay eight weeks here, and thus give hydropathy a fair chance. before starting here i was in an awful state of stomach, strength, temper, and spirits. my book has been completely finished some little time; as soon as copies are ready, of course one will be sent you. i hope you will mark your copy with scores, so that i may profit by any criticisms. i should like to hear your general impression. from lyell's letters, he thinks favourably of it, but seems staggered by the lengths to which i go. but if you go any considerable length in the admission of modification, i can see no possible means of drawing the line, and saying here you must stop. lyell is going to reread my book, and i yet entertain hopes that he will be converted, or perverted, as he calls it. lyell has been extremely kind in writing me three volume-like letters; but he says nothing about dispersal during the glacial period. i should like to know what he thinks on this head. i have one question to ask: would it be any good to send a copy of my book to decaisne? and do you know any philosophical botanists on the continent, who read english and care for such subjects? if so, give their addresses. how about andersson in sweden? you cannot think how refreshing it is to idle away the whole day, and hardly ever think in the least about my confounded book which half-killed me. i much wish i could hear of your taking a real rest. i know how very strong you are, mentally, but i never will believe you can go on working as you have worked of late with impunity. you will some day stretch the string too tight. farewell, my good, and kind, and dear friend, yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. ilkley, otley, yorkshire, october th [ ]. my dear huxley, i am here hydropathising and coming to life again, after having finished my accursed book, which would have been easy work to any one else, but half-killed me. i have thought you would give me one bit of information, and i know not to whom else to apply; viz., the addresses of barrande, von siebold, keyserling (i dare say sir roderick would know the latter). can you tell me of any good and speculative foreigners to whom it would be worth while to send copies of my book, on the 'origin of species'? i doubt whether it is worth sending to siebold. i should like to send a few copies about, but how many i can afford i know not yet till i hear what price murray affixes. i need not say that i will send, of course, one to you, in the first week of november. i hope to send copies abroad immediately. i shall be intensely curious to hear what effect the book produces on you. i know that there will be much in it which you will object to, and i do not doubt many errors. i am very far from expecting to convert you to many of my heresies; but if, on the whole, you and two or three others think i am on the right road, i shall not care what the mob of naturalists think. the penultimate chapter (chapter xiii. is on classification, morphology, embryology, and rudimentary organs.), though i believe it includes the truth, will, i much fear, make you savage. do not act and say, like macleay versus fleming, "i write with aqua fortis to bite into brass." ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley, yorkshire, october th [ ]. my dear lyell, i have been reading over all your letters consecutively, and i do not feel that i have thanked you half enough for the extreme pleasure which they have given me, and for their utility. i see in them evidence of fluctuation in the degree of credence you give to the theory; nor am i at all surprised at this, for many and many fluctuations i have undergone. there is one point in your letter which i did not notice, about the animals (and many plants) naturalised in australia, which you think could not endure without man's aid. i cannot see how man does aid the feral cattle. but, letting that pass, you seem to think, that because they suffer prodigious destruction during droughts, that they would all be destroyed. in the "gran secos" of la plata, the indigenous animals, such as the american deer, die by thousands, and suffer apparently as much as the cattle. in parts of india, after a drought, it takes ten or more years before the indigenous mammals get up to their full number again. your argument would, i think, apply to the aborigines as well as to the feral. an animal or plant which becomes feral in one small territory might be destroyed by climate, but i can hardly believe so, when once feral over several large territories. again, i feel inclined to swear at climate: do not think me impudent for attacking you about climate. you say you doubt whether man could have existed under the eocene climate, but man can now withstand the climate of esquimaux-land and west equatorial africa; and surely you do not think the eocene climate differed from the present throughout all europe, as much as the arctic regions differ from equatorial africa? with respect to organisms being created on the american type in america, it might, i think, be said that they were so created to prevent them being too well created, so as to beat the aborigines; but this seems to me, somehow, a monstrous doctrine. i have reflected a good deal on what you say on the necessity of continued intervention of creative power. i cannot see this necessity; and its admission, i think, would make the theory of natural selection valueless. grant a simple archetypal creature, like the mud-fish or lepidosiren, with the five senses and some vestige of mind, and i believe natural selection will account for the production of every vertebrate animal. farewell; forgive me for indulging in this prose, and believe me, with cordial thanks, your ever attached disciple, c. darwin. p.s.--when, and if, you reread, i supplicate you to write on the margin the word "expand," when too condensed, or "not clear." or "?." such marks would cost you little trouble, and i could copy them and reflect on them, and their value would be infinite to me. my larger book will have to be wholly re-written, and not merely the present volume expanded; so that i want to waste as little time over this volume as possible, if another edition be called for; but i fear the subject will be too perplexing, as i have treated it, for general public. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. ilkley, yorkshire, sunday [october rd, ]. my dear hooker, i congratulate you on your 'introduction' ("australian flora".) being in fact finished. i am sure from what i read of it (and deeply i shall be interested in reading it straight through), that it must have cost you a prodigious amount of labour and thought. i shall like very much to see the sheet, which you wish me to look at. now i am so completely a gentleman, that i have sometimes a little difficulty to pass the day; but it is astonishing how idle a three weeks i have passed. if it is any comfort to you, pray delude yourself by saying that you intend "sticking to humdrum science." but i believe it just as much as if a plant were to say that, "i have been growing all my life, and, by jove, i will stop growing." you cannot help yourself; you are not clever enough for that. you could not even remain idle, as i have done, for three weeks! what you say about lyell pleases me exceedingly; i had not at all inferred from his letters that he had come so much round. i remember thinking, above a year ago, that if ever i lived to see lyell, yourself, and huxley come round, partly by my book, and partly by their own reflections, i should feel that the subject is safe, and all the world might rail, but that ultimately the theory of natural selection (though, no doubt, imperfect in its present condition, and embracing many errors) would prevail. nothing will ever convince me that three such men, with so much diversified knowledge, and so well accustomed to search for truth, could err greatly. i have spoken of you here as a convert made by me; but i know well how much larger the share has been of your own self-thought. i am intensely curious to hear huxley's opinion of my book. i fear my long discussion on classification will disgust him; for it is much opposed to what he once said to me. but, how i am running on. you see how idle i am; but i have so enjoyed your letter that you must forgive me. with respect to migration during the glacial period: i think lyell quite comprehends, for he has given me a supporting fact. but, perhaps, he unconsciously hates (do not say so to him) the view as slightly staggering him on his favourite theory of all changes of climate being due to changes in the relative position of land and water. i will send copies of my book to all the men specified by you;... you would be so kind as to add title, as doctor, or professor, or monsieur, or von, and initials (when wanted), and addresses to the names on the enclosed list, and let me have it pretty soon, as towards the close of this week murray says the copies to go abroad will be ready. i am anxious to get my view generally known, and not, i hope and think, for mere personal conceit... charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley, yorkshire, october th [ ]. ...our difference on "principle of improvement" and "power of adaptation" is too profound for discussion by letter. if i am wrong, i am quite blind to my error. if i am right, our difference will be got over only by your re-reading carefully and reflecting on my first four chapters. i supplicate you to read these again carefully. the so-called improvement of our shorthorn cattle, pigeons, etc., does not presuppose or require any aboriginal "power of adaptation," or "principle of improvement;" it requires only diversified variability, and man to select or take advantage of those modifications which are useful to him; so under nature any slight modification which chances to arise, and is useful to any creature, is selected or preserved in the struggle for life; any modification which is injurious is destroyed or rejected; any which is neither useful nor injurious will be left a fluctuating element. when you contrast natural selection and "improvement," you seem always to overlook (for i do not see how you can deny) that every step in the natural selection of each species implies improvement in that species in relation to its conditions of life. no modification can be selected without it be an improvement or advantage. improvement implies, i suppose, each form obtaining many parts or organs, all excellently adapted for their functions. as each species is improved, and as the number of forms will have increased, if we look to the whole course of time, the organic condition of life for other forms will become more complex, and there will be a necessity for other forms to become improved, or they will be exterminated; and i can see no limit to this process of improvement, without the intervention of any other and direct principle of improvement. all this seems to me quite compatible with certain forms fitted for simple conditions, remaining unaltered, or being degraded. if i have a second edition, i will reiterate "natural selection," and, as a general consequence, "natural improvement." as you go, as far as you do, i begin strongly to think, judging from myself, that you will go much further. how slowly the older geologists admitted your grand views on existing geological causes of change! if at any time you think i can answer any question, it is a real pleasure to me to write. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j. murray. ilkley, yorkshire [ ]. my dear sir, i have received your kind note and the copy; i am infinitely pleased and proud at the appearance of my child. i quite agree to all you propose about price. but you are really too generous about the, to me, scandalously heavy corrections. are you not acting unfairly towards yourself? would it not be better at least to share the pounds shillings? i shall be fully satisfied, for i had no business to send, though quite unintentionally and unexpectedly, such badly composed ms. to the printers. thank you for your kind offer to distribute the copies to my friends and assistors as soon as possible. do not trouble yourself much about the foreigners, as messrs. williams and norgate have most kindly offered to do their best, and they are accustomed to send to all parts of the world. i will pay for my copies whenever you like. i am so glad that you were so good as to undertake the publication of my book. my dear sir, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--please do not forget to let me hear about two days before the copies are distributed. i do not know when i shall leave this place, certainly not for several weeks. whenever i am in london i will call on you. chapter .xiv. -- by professor huxley. on the reception of the 'origin of species.' to the present generation, that is to say, the people a few years on the hither and thither side of thirty, the name of charles darwin stands alongside of those of isaac newton and michael faraday; and, like them, calls up the grand ideal of a searcher after truth and interpreter of nature. they think of him who bore it as a rare combination of genius, industry, and unswerving veracity, who earned his place among the most famous men of the age by sheer native power, in the teeth of a gale of popular prejudice, and uncheered by a sign of favour or appreciation from the official fountains of honour; as one who in spite of an acute sensitiveness to praise and blame, and notwithstanding provocations which might have excused any outbreak, kept himself clear of all envy, hatred, and malice, nor dealt otherwise than fairly and justly with the unfairness and injustice which was showered upon him; while, to the end of his days, he was ready to listen with patience and respect to the most insignificant of reasonable objectors. and with respect to that theory of the origin of the forms of life peopling our globe, with which darwin's name is bound up as closely as that of newton with the theory of gravitation, nothing seems to be further from the mind of the present generation than any attempt to smother it with ridicule or to crush it by vehemence of denunciation. "the struggle for existence," and "natural selection," have become household words and every-day conceptions. the reality and the importance of the natural processes on which darwin founds his deductions are no more doubted than those of growth and multiplication; and, whether the full potency attributed to them is admitted or not, no one doubts their vast and far-reaching significance. wherever the biological sciences are studied, the 'origin of species' lights the paths of the investigator; wherever they are taught it permeates the course of instruction. nor has the influence of darwinian ideas been less profound, beyond the realms of biology. the oldest of all philosophies, that of evolution, was bound hand and foot and cast into utter darkness during the millennium of theological scholasticism. but darwin poured new life-blood into the ancient frame; the bonds burst, and the revivified thought of ancient greece has proved itself to be a more adequate expression of the universal order of things than any of the schemes which have been accepted by the credulity and welcomed by the superstition of seventy later generations of men. to any one who studies the signs of the times, the emergence of the philosophy of evolution, in the attitude of claimant to the throne of the world of thought, from the limbo of hated and, as many hoped, forgotten things, is the most portentous event of the nineteenth century. but the most effective weapons of the modern champions of evolution were fabricated by darwin; and the 'origin of species' has enlisted a formidable body of combatants, trained in the severe school of physical science, whose ears might have long remained deaf to the speculations of a priori philosophers. i do not think any candid or instructed person will deny the truth of that which has just been asserted. he may hate the very name of evolution, and may deny its pretensions as vehemently as a jacobite denied those of george the second. but there it is--not only as solidly seated as the hanoverian dynasty, but happily independent of parliamentary sanction--and the dullest antagonists have come to see that they have to deal with an adversary whose bones are to be broken by no amount of bad words. even the theologians have almost ceased to pit the plain meaning of genesis against the no less plain meaning of nature. their more candid, or more cautious, representatives have given up dealing with evolution as if it were a damnable heresy, and have taken refuge in one of two courses. either they deny that genesis was meant to teach scientific truth, and thus save the veracity of the record at the expense of its authority; or they expend their energies in devising the cruel ingenuities of the reconciler, and torture texts in the vain hope of making them confess the creed of science. but when the peine forte et dure is over, the antique sincerity of the venerable sufferer always reasserts itself. genesis is honest to the core, and professes to be no more than it is, a repository of venerable traditions of unknown origin, claiming no scientific authority and possessing none. as my pen finishes these passages, i can but be amused to think what a terrible hubbub would have been made (in truth was made) about any similar expressions of opinion a quarter of a century ago. in fact, the contrast between the present condition of public opinion upon the darwinian question; between the estimation in which darwin's views are now held in the scientific world; between the acquiescence, or at least quiescence, of the theologians of the self-respecting order at the present day and the outburst of antagonism on all sides in - , when the new theory respecting the origin of species first became known to the older generation to which i belong, is so startling that, except for documentary evidence, i should be sometimes inclined to think my memories dreams. i have a great respect for the younger generation myself (they can write our lives, and ravel out all our follies, if they choose to take the trouble, by and by), and i should be glad to be assured that the feeling is reciprocal; but i am afraid that the story of our dealings with darwin may prove a great hindrance to that veneration for our wisdom which i should like them to display. we have not even the excuse that, thirty years ago, mr. darwin was an obscure novice, who had no claims on our attention. on the contrary, his remarkable zoological and geological investigations had long given him an assured position among the most eminent and original investigators of the day; while his charming 'voyage of a naturalist' had justly earned him a wide-spread reputation among the general public. i doubt if there was any man then living who had a better right to expect that anything he might choose to say on such a question as the origin of species would be listened to with profound attention, and discussed with respect; and there was certainly no man whose personal character should have afforded a better safeguard against attacks, instinct with malignity and spiced with shameless impertinences. yet such was the portion of one of the kindest and truest men that it was ever my good fortune to know; and years had to pass away before misrepresentation, ridicule, and denunciation, ceased to be the most notable constituents of the majority of the multitudinous criticisms of his work which poured from the press. i am loth to rake any of these ancient scandals from their well-deserved oblivion; but i must make good a statement which may seem overcharged to the present generation, and there is no piece justificative more apt for the purpose, or more worthy of such dishonour, than the article in the 'quarterly review' for july, . (i was not aware when i wrote these passages that the authorship of the article had been publicly acknowledged. confession unaccompanied by penitence, however, affords no ground for mitigation of judgment; and the kindliness with which mr. darwin speaks of his assailant, bishop wilberforce (vol. ii.), is so striking an exemplification of his singular gentleness and modesty, that it rather increases one's indignation against the presumption of his critic.) since lord brougham assailed dr. young, the world has seen no such specimen of the insolence of a shallow pretender to a master in science as this remarkable production, in which one of the most exact of observers, most cautious of reasoners, and most candid of expositors, of this or any other age, is held up to scorn as a "flighty" person, who endeavours "to prop up his utterly rotten fabric of guess and speculation," and whose "mode of dealing with nature" is reprobated as "utterly dishonourable to natural science." and all this high and mighty talk, which would have been indecent in one of mr. darwin's equals, proceeds from a writer whose want of intelligence, or of conscience, or of both, is so great, that, by way of an objection to mr. darwin's views, he can ask, "is it credible that all favourable varieties of turnips are tending to become men;" who is so ignorant of paleontology, that he can talk of the "flowers and fruits" of the plants of the carboniferous epoch; of comparative anatomy, that he can gravely affirm the poison apparatus of the venomous snakes to be "entirely separate from the ordinary laws of animal life, and peculiar to themselves;" of the rudiments of physiology, that he can ask, "what advantage of life could alter the shape of the corpuscles into which the blood can be evaporated?" nor does the reviewer fail to flavour this outpouring of preposterous incapacity with a little stimulation of the odium theologicum. some inkling of the history of the conflicts between astronomy, geology, and theology, leads him to keep a retreat open by the proviso that he cannot "consent to test the truth of natural science by the word of revelation;" but, for all that, he devotes pages to the exposition of his conviction that mr. darwin's theory "contradicts the revealed relation of the creation to its creator," and is "inconsistent with the fulness of his glory." if i confine my retrospect of the reception of the 'origin of species' to a twelvemonth, or thereabouts, from the time of its publication, i do not recollect anything quite so foolish and unmannerly as the 'quarterly review' article, unless, perhaps, the address of a reverend professor to the dublin geological society might enter into competition with it. but a large proportion of mr. darwin's critics had a lamentable resemblance to the 'quarterly' reviewer, in so far as they lacked either the will, or the wit, to make themselves masters of his doctrine; hardly any possessed the knowledge required to follow him through the immense range of biological and geological science which the 'origin' covered; while, too commonly, they had prejudiced the case on theological grounds, and, as seems to be inevitable when this happens, eked out lack of reason by superfluity of railing. but it will be more pleasant and more profitable to consider those criticisms, which were acknowledged by writers of scientific authority, or which bore internal evidence of the greater or less competency and, often, of the good faith, of their authors. restricting my survey to a twelvemonth, or thereabouts, after the publication of the 'origin,' i find among such critics louis agassiz ("the arguments presented by darwin in favor of a universal derivation from one primary form of all the peculiarities existing now among living beings have not made the slightest impression on my mind.") "until the facts of nature are shown to have been mistaken by those who have collected them, and that they have a different meaning from that now generally assigned to them, i shall therefore consider the transmutation theory as a scientific mistake, untrue in its facts, unscientific in its method, and mischievous in its tendency."--silliman's 'journal,' july, , pages , . extract from the rd volume of 'contributions to the natural history of the united states.'); murray, an excellent entomologist; harvey, a botanist of considerable repute; and the author of an article in the 'edinburgh review,' all strongly adverse to darwin. pictet, the distinguished and widely learned paleontogist of geneva, treats mr. darwin with a respect which forms a grateful contrast to the tone of some of the preceding writers, but consents to go with him only a very little way. ("i see no serious objections to the formation of varieties by natural selection in the existing world, and that, so far as earlier epochs are concerned, this law may be assumed to explain the origin of closely allied species, supposing for this purpose a very long period of time." "with regard to simple varieties and closely allied species, i believe that mr. darwin's theory may explain many things, and throw a great light upon numerous questions."--'sur l'origine de l'espece. par charles darwin.' ('archives des sc. de la bibliotheque universelle de geneve,' pages , , mars .) on the other hand, lyell, up to that time a pillar of the anti-transmutationists (who regarded him, ever afterwards, as pallas athene may have looked at dian, after the endymion affair), declared himself a darwinian, though not without putting in a serious caveat. nevertheless, he was a tower of strength, and his courageous stand for truth as against consistency, did him infinite honour. as evolutionists, sans phrase, i do not call to mind among the biologists more than asa gray, who fought the battle splendidly in the united states; hooker, who was no less vigorous here; the present sir john lubbock and myself. wallace was far away in the malay archipelago; but, apart from his direct share in the promulgation of the theory of natural selection, no enumeration of the influences at work, at the time i am speaking of, would be complete without the mention of his powerful essay 'on the law which has regulated the introduction of new species,' which was published in . on reading it afresh, i have been astonished to recollect how small was the impression it made. in france, the influence of elie de beaumont and of flourens--the former of whom is said to have "damned himself to everlasting fame" by inventing the nickname of "la science moussante" for evolutionism (one is reminded of the effect of another small academic epigram. the so-called vertebral theory of the skull is said to have been nipped in the bud in france by the whisper of an academician to his neighbour, that, in that case, one's head was a "vertebre pensante."),--to say nothing of the ill-will of other powerful members of the institut, produced for a long time the effect of a conspiracy of silence; and many years passed before the academy redeemed itself from the reproach that the name of darwin was not to be found on the list of its members. however, an accomplished writer, out of the range of academical influences, m. laugel, gave an excellent and appreciative notice of the 'origin' in the 'revue des deux mondes.' germany took time to consider; bronn produced a slightly bowdlerized translation of the 'origin'; and 'kladderadatsch' cut his jokes upon the ape origin of man; but i do not call to mind that any scientific notability declared himself publicly in . (however, the man who stands next to darwin in his influence on modern biologists, k.e. von baer, wrote to me, in august , expressing his general assent to evolutionist views. his phrase, "j'ai enonce les memes idees...que m. darwin" (volume ii.) is shown by his subsequent writings to mean no more than this.) none of us dreamed that, in the course of a few years, the strength (and perhaps i may add the weakness) of "darwinismus" would have its most extensive and most brilliant illustrations in the land of learning. if a foreigner may presume to speculate on the cause of this curious interval of silence, i fancy it was that one moiety of the german biologists were orthodox at any price, and the other moiety as distinctly heterodox. the latter were evolutionists, a priori, already, and they must have felt the disgust natural to deductive philosophers at being offered an inductive and experimental foundation for a conviction which they had reached by a shorter cut. it is undoubtedly trying to learn that, though your conclusions may be all right, your reasons for them are all wrong, or, at any rate, insufficient. on the whole, then, the supporters of mr. darwin's views in were numerically extremely insignificant. there is not the slightest doubt that, if a general council of the church scientific had been held at that time, we should have been condemned by an overwhelming majority. and there is as little doubt that, if such a council gathered now, the decree would be of an exactly contrary nature. it would indicate a lack of sense, as well as of modesty, to ascribe to the men of that generation less capacity or less honesty than their successors possess. what, then, are the causes which led instructed and fair-judging men of that day to arrive at a judgment so different from that which seems just and fair to those who follow them? that is really one of the most interesting of all questions connected with the history of science, and i shall try to answer it. i am afraid that in order to do so i must run the risk of appearing egotistical. however, if i tell my own story it is only because i know it better than that of other people. i think i must have read the 'vestiges' before i left england in ; but, if i did, the book made very little impression upon me, and i was not brought into serious contact with the 'species' question until after . at that time, i had long done with the pentateuchal cosmogony, which had been impressed upon my childish understanding as divine truth, with all the authority of parents and instructors, and from which it had cost me many a struggle to get free. but my mind was unbiassed in respect of any doctrine which presented itself, if it professed to be based on purely philosophical and scientific reasoning. it seemed to me then (as it does now) that "creation," in the ordinary sense of the word, is perfectly conceivable. i find no difficulty in imagining that, at some former period, this universe was not in existence; and that it made its appearance in six days (or instantaneously, if that is preferred), in consequence of the volition of some pre-existent being. then, as now, the so-called a priori arguments against theism; and, given a deity, against the possibility of creative acts, appeared to me to be devoid of reasonable foundation. i had not then, and i have not now, the smallest a priori objection to raise to the account of the creation of animals and plants given in 'paradise lost,' in which milton so vividly embodies the natural sense of genesis. far be it from me to say that it is untrue because it is impossible. i confine myself to what must be regarded as a modest and reasonable request for some particle of evidence that the existing species of animals and plants did originate in that way, as a condition of my belief in a statement which appears to me to be highly improbable. and, by way of being perfectly fair, i had exactly the same answer to give to the evolutionists of - . within the ranks of the biologists, at that time, i met with nobody, except dr. grant, of university college, who had a word to say for evolution--and his advocacy was not calculated to advance the cause. outside these ranks, the only person known to me whose knowledge and capacity compelled respect, and who was, at the same time, a thorough-going evolutionist, was mr. herbert spencer, whose acquaintance i made, i think, in , and then entered into the bonds of a friendship which, i am happy to think, has known no interruption. many and prolonged were the battles we fought on this topic. but even my friend's rare dialectic skill and copiousness of apt illustration could not drive me from my agnostic position. i took my stand upon two grounds: firstly, that up to that time, the evidence in favour of transmutation was wholly insufficient; and secondly, that no suggestion respecting the causes of the transmutation assumed, which had been made, was in any way adequate to explain the phenomena. looking back at the state of knowledge at that time, i really do not see that any other conclusion was justifiable. in those days i had never even heard of treviranus' 'biologie.' however, i had studied lamarck attentively and i had read the 'vestiges' with due care; but neither of them afforded me any good ground for changing my negative and critical attitude. as for the 'vestiges,' i confess that the book simply irritated me by the prodigious ignorance and thoroughly unscientific habit of mind manifested by the writer. if it had any influence on me at all, it set me against evolution; and the only review i ever have qualms of conscience about, on the ground of needless savagery, is one i wrote on the 'vestiges' while under that influence. with respect to the 'philosophie zoologique,' it is no reproach to lamarck to say that the discussion of the species question in that work, whatever might be said for it in , was miserably below the level of the knowledge of half a century later. in that interval of time the elucidation of the structure of the lower animals and plants had given rise to wholly new conceptions of their relations; histology and embryology, in the modern sense, had been created; physiology had been reconstituted; the facts of distribution, geological and geographical, had been prodigiously multiplied and reduced to order. to any biologist whose studies had carried him beyond mere species-mongering in , one-half of lamarck's arguments were obsolete and the other half erroneous, or defective, in virtue of omitting to deal with the various classes of evidence which had been brought to light since his time. moreover his one suggestion as to the cause of the gradual modification of species--effort excited by change of conditions--was, on the face of it, inapplicable to the whole vegetable world. i do not think that any impartial judge who reads the 'philosophie zoologique' now, and who afterwards takes up lyell's trenchant and effectual criticism (published as far back as ), will be disposed to allot to lamarck a much higher place in the establishment of biological evolution than that which bacon assigns to himself in relation to physical science generally,--buccinator tantum. (erasmus darwin first promulgated lamarck's fundamental conceptions, and, with greater logical consistency, he had applied them to plants. but the advocates of his claims have failed to show that he, in any respect, anticipated the central idea of the 'origin of species.') but, by a curious irony of fate, the same influence which led me to put as little faith in modern speculations on this subject, as in the venerable traditions recorded in the first two chapters of genesis, was perhaps more potent than any other in keeping alive a sort of pious conviction that evolution, after all, would turn out true. i have recently read afresh the first edition of the 'principles of geology'; and when i consider that this remarkable book had been nearly thirty years in everybody's hands, and that it brings home to any reader of ordinary intelligence a great principle and a great fact--the principle, that the past must be explained by the present, unless good cause be shown to the contrary; and the fact, that, so far as our knowledge of the past history of life on our globe goes, no such cause can be shown (the same principle and the same fact guide the result from all sound historical investigation. grote's 'history of greece' is a product of the same intellectual movement as lyell's 'principles.')--i cannot but believe that lyell, for others, as for myself, was the chief agent for smoothing the road for darwin. for consistent uniformitarianism postulates evolution as much in the organic as in the inorganic world. the origin of a new species by other than ordinary agencies would be a vastly greater "catastrophe" than any of those which lyell successfully eliminated from sober geological speculation. in fact, no one was better aware of this than lyell himself. (lyell, with perfect right, claims this position for himself. he speaks of having "advocated a law of continuity even in the organic world, so far as possible without adopting lamarck's theory of transmutation"...) "but while i taught that as often as certain forms of animals and plants disappeared, for reasons quite intelligible to us, others took their place by virtue of a causation which was beyond our comprehension; it remained for darwin to accumulate proof that there is no break between the incoming and the outgoing species, that they are the work of evolution, and not of special creation... "i had certainly prepared the way in this country, in six editions of my work before the 'vestiges of creation' appeared in [ ], for the reception of darwin's gradual and insensible evolution of species."--('life and letters,' letter to haeckel, volume ii. page . november , .) if one reads any of the earlier editions of the 'principles' carefully (especially by the light of the interesting series of letters recently published by sir charles lyell's biographer), it is easy to see that, with all his energetic opposition to lamarck, on the one hand, and to the ideal quasi-progressionism of agassiz, on the other, lyell, in his own mind, was strongly disposed to account for the origination of all past and present species of living things by natural causes. but he would have liked, at the same time, to keep the name of creation for a natural process which he imagined to be incomprehensible. in a letter addressed to mantell (dated march , ), lyell speaks of having just read lamarck; he expresses his delight at lamarck's theories, and his personal freedom from any objection based on theological grounds. and though he is evidently alarmed at the pithecoid origin of man involved in lamarck's doctrine, he observes:-- "but, after all, what changes species may really undergo! how impossible will it be to distinguish and lay down a line, beyond which some of the so-called extinct species have never passed into recent ones." again, the following remarkable passage occurs in the postscript of a letter addressed to sir john herschel in :-- "in regard to the origination of new species, i am very glad to find that you think it probable that it may be carried on through the intervention of intermediate causes. i left this rather to be inferred, not thinking it worth while to offend a certain class of persons by embodying in words what would only be a speculation." (in the same sense, see the letter to whewell, march , , volume ii., page ):-- "in regard to this last subject [the changes from one set of animal and vegetable species to another]...you remember what herschel said in his letter to me. if i had stated as plainly as he has done the possibility of the introduction or origination of fresh species being a natural, in contradistinction to a miraculous process, i should have raised a host of prejudices against me, which are unfortunately opposed at every step to any philosopher who attempts to address the public on these mysterious subjects." see also letter to sedgwick, january , ii. page .) he goes on to refer to the criticisms which have been directed against him on the ground that, by leaving species to be originated by miracle, he is inconsistent with his own doctrine of uniformitarianism; and he leaves it to be understood that he had not replied, on the ground of his general objection to controversy. lyell's contemporaries were not without some inkling of his esoteric doctrine. whewell's 'history of the inductive sciences,' whatever its philosophical value, is always worth reading and always interesting, if under no other aspect than that of an evidence of the speculative limits within which a highly-placed divine might, at that time, safely range at will. in the course of his discussion of uniformitarianism, the encyclopaedic master of trinity observes:-- "mr. lyell, indeed, has spoken of an hypothesis that 'the successive creation of species may constitute a regular part of the economy of nature,' but he has nowhere, i think, so described this process as to make it appear in what department of science we are to place the hypothesis. are these new species created by the production, at long intervals, of an offspring different in species from the parents? or are the species so created produced without parents? are they gradually evolved from some embryo substance? or do they suddenly start from the ground, as in the creation of the poet?... "some selection of one of these forms of the hypothesis, rather than the others, with evidence for the selection, is requisite to entitle us to place it among the known causes of change, which in this chapter we are considering. the bare conviction that a creation of species has taken place, whether once or many times, so long as it is unconnected with our organical sciences, is a tenet of natural theology rather than of physical philosophy." (whewell's 'history,' volume iii. page - (edition , .)) the earlier part of this criticism appears perfectly just and appropriate; but, from the concluding paragraph, whewell evidently imagines that by "creation" lyell means a preternatural intervention of the deity; whereas the letter to herschel shows that, in his own mind, lyell meant natural causation; and i see no reason to doubt (the following passages in lyell's letters appear to me decisive on this point):-- to darwin, october , (ii, ), on first reading the 'origin.' "i have long seen most clearly that if any concession is made, all that you claim in your concluding pages will follow. "it is this which has made me so long hesitate, always feeling that the case of man and his races, and of other animals, and that of plants, is one and the same, and that if a vera causa be admitted for one instant, [instead] of a purely unknown and imaginary one, such as the word 'creation,' all the consequences must follow." to darwin, march , (volume ii. page ). "i remember that it was the conclusion he [lamarck] came to about man that fortified me thirty years ago against the great impression which his arguments at first made on my mind, all the greater because constant prevost, a pupil of cuvier's forty years ago, told me his conviction 'that cuvier thought species not real, but that science could not advance without assuming that they were so.'" to hooker, march , (volume ii. page ), in reference to darwin's feeling about the 'antiquity of man.' "he [darwin] seems much disappointed that i do not go farther with him, or do not speak out more. i can only say that i have spoken out to the full extent of my present convictions, and even beyond my state of feeling as to man's unbroken descent from the brutes, and i find i am half converting not a few who were in arms against darwin, and are even now against huxley." he speaks of having had to abandon "old and long cherished ideas, which constituted the charm to me of the theoretical part of the science in my earlier day, when i believed with pascal in the theory, as hallam terms it, of 'the arch-angel ruined.'" see the same sentiment in the letter to darwin, march , , page :-- "i think the old 'creation' is almost as much required as ever, but of course it takes a new form if lamarck's views improved by yours are adopted." that, if sir charles could have avoided the inevitable corollary of the pithecoid origin of man--for which, to the end of his life, he entertained a profound antipathy--he would have advocated the efficiency of causes now in operation to bring about the condition of the organic world, as stoutly as he championed that doctrine in reference to inorganic nature. the fact is, that a discerning eye might have seen that some form or other of the doctrine of transmutation was inevitable, from the time when the truth enunciated by william smith that successive strata are characterised by different kinds of fossil remains, became a firmly established law of nature. no one has set forth the speculative consequences of this generalisation better than the historian of the 'inductive sciences':-- "but the study of geology opens to us the spectacle of many groups of species which have, in the course of the earth's history, succeeded each other at vast intervals of time; one set of animals and plants disappearing, as it would seem, from the face of our planet, and others, which did not before exist, becoming the only occupants of the globe. and the dilemma then presents itself to us anew:--either we must accept the doctrine of the transmutation of species, and must suppose that the organized species of one geological epoch were transmuted into those of another by some long-continued agency of natural causes; or else, we must believe in many successive acts of creation and extinction of species, out of the common course of nature; acts which, therefore, we may properly call miraculous." (whewell's 'history of the inductive sciences.' edition ii., , volume iii. pages - . see for the author's verdict, pages - .) dr. whewell decides in favour of the latter conclusion. and if any one had plied him with the four questions which he puts to lyell in the passage already cited, all that can be said now is that he would certainly have rejected the first. but would he really have had the courage to say that a rhinoceros tichorhinus, for instance, "was produced without parents;" or was "evolved from some embryo substance;" or that it suddenly started from the ground like milton's lion "pawing to get free his hinder parts." i permit myself to doubt whether even the master of trinity's well-tried courage--physical, intellectual, and moral--would have been equal to this feat. no doubt the sudden concurrence of half-a-ton of inorganic molecules into a live rhinoceros is conceivable, and therefore may be possible. but does such an event lie sufficiently within the bounds of probability to justify the belief in its occurrence on the strength of any attainable, or, indeed, imaginable, evidence? in view of the assertion (often repeated in the early days of the opposition to darwin) that he had added nothing to lamarck, it is very interesting to observe that the possibility of a fifth alternative, in addition to the four he has stated, has not dawned upon dr. whewell's mind. the suggestion that new species may result from the selective action of external conditions upon the variations from their specific type which individuals present--and which we call "spontaneous," because we are ignorant of their causation--is as wholly unknown to the historian of scientific ideas as it was to biological specialists before . but that suggestion is the central idea of the 'origin of species,' and contains the quintessence of darwinism. thus, looking back into the past, it seems to me that my own position of critical expectancy was just and reasonable, and must have been taken up, on the same grounds, by many other persons. if agassiz told me that the forms of life which had successively tenanted the globe were the incarnations of successive thoughts of the deity; and that he had wiped out one set of these embodiments by an appalling geological catastrophe as soon as his ideas took a more advanced shape, i found myself not only unable to admit the accuracy of the deductions from the facts of paleontology, upon which this astounding hypothesis was founded, but i had to confess my want of any means of testing the correctness of his explanation of them. and besides that, i could by no means see what the explanation explained. neither did it help me to be told by an eminent anatomist that species had succeeded one another in time, in virtue of "a continuously operative creational law." that seemed to me to be no more than saying that species had succeeded one another, in the form of a vote-catching resolution, with "law" to please the man of science, and "creational" to draw the orthodox. so i took refuge in that "thatige skepsis" which goethe has so well defined; and, reversing the apostolic precept to be all things to all men, i usually defended the tenability of the received doctrines, when i had to do with the transmutationists; and stood up for the possibility of transmutation among the orthodox--thereby, no doubt, increasing an already current, but quite undeserved, reputation for needless combativeness. i remember, in the course of my first interview with mr. darwin, expressing my belief in the sharpness of the lines of demarcation between natural groups and in the absence of transitional forms, with all the confidence of youth and imperfect knowledge. i was not aware, at that time, that he had then been many years brooding over the species-question; and the humorous smile which accompanied his gentle answer, that such was not altogether his view, long haunted and puzzled me. but it would seem that four or five years' hard work had enabled me to understand what it meant; for lyell ('life and letters,' volume ii. page .), writing to sir charles bunbury (under date of april , ), says:-- "when huxley, hooker, and wollaston were at darwin's last week they (all four of them) ran a tilt against species--further, i believe, than they are prepared to go." i recollect nothing of this beyond the fact of meeting mr. wollaston; and except for sir charles' distinct assurance as to "all four," i should have thought my "outrecuidance" was probably a counterblast to wollaston's conservatism. with regard to hooker, he was already, like voltaire's habbakuk, "capable du tout" in the way of advocating evolution. as i have already said, i imagine that most of those of my contemporaries who thought seriously about the matter, were very much in my own state of mind--inclined to say to both mosaists and evolutionists, "a plague on both your houses!" and disposed to turn aside from an interminable and apparently fruitless discussion, to labour in the fertile fields of ascertainable fact. and i may, therefore, further suppose that the publication of the darwin and wallace papers in , and still more that of the 'origin' in , had the effect upon them of the flash of light, which to a man who has lost himself in a dark night, suddenly reveals a road which, whether it takes him straight home or not, certainly goes his way. that which we were looking for, and could not find, was a hypothesis respecting the origin of known organic forms, which assumed the operation of no causes but such as could be proved to be actually at work. we wanted, not to pin our faith to that or any other speculation, but to get hold of clear and definite conceptions which could be brought face to face with facts and have their validity tested. the 'origin' provided us with the working hypothesis we sought. moreover, it did the immense service of freeing us for ever from the dilemma--refuse to accept the creation hypothesis, and what have you to propose that can be accepted by any cautious reasoner? in , i had no answer ready, and i do not think that any one else had. a year later, we reproached ourselves with dullness for being perplexed by such an inquiry. my reflection, when i first made myself master of the central idea of the 'origin,' was, "how extremely stupid not to have thought of that!" i suppose that columbus' companions said much the same when he made the egg stand on end. the facts of variability, of the struggle for existence, of adaptation to conditions, were notorious enough; but none of us had suspected that the road to the heart of the species problem lay through them, until darwin and wallace dispelled the darkness, and the beacon-fire of the 'origin' guided the benighted. whether the particular shape which the doctrine of evolution, as applied to the organic world, took in darwin's hands, would prove to be final or not, was, to me, a matter of indifference. in my earliest criticisms of the 'origin' i ventured to point out that its logical foundation was insecure so long as experiments in selective breeding had not produced varieties which were more or less infertile; and that insecurity remains up to the present time. but, with any and every critical doubt which my sceptical ingenuity could suggest, the darwinian hypothesis remained incomparably more probable than the creation hypothesis. and if we had none of us been able to discern the paramount significance of some of the most patent and notorious of natural facts, until they were, so to speak, thrust under our noses, what force remained in the dilemma--creation or nothing? it was obvious that, hereafter, the probability would be immensely greater, that the links of natural causation were hidden from our purblind eyes, than that natural causation should be incompetent to produce all the phenomena of nature. the only rational course for those who had no other object than the attainment of truth, was to accept "darwinism" as a working hypothesis, and see what could be made of it. either it would prove its capacity to elucidate the facts of organic life, or it would break down under the strain. this was surely the dictate of common sense; and, for once, common sense carried the day. the result has been that complete volte-face of the whole scientific world, which must seem so surprising to the present generation. i do not mean to say that all the leaders of biological science have avowed themselves darwinians; but i do not think that there is a single zoologist, or botanist, or palaeontologist, among the multitude of active workers of this generation, who is other than an evolutionist, profoundly influenced by darwin's views. whatever may be the ultimate fate of the particular theory put forth by darwin, i venture to affirm that, so far as my knowledge goes, all the ingenuity and all the learning of hostile critics have not enabled them to adduce a solitary fact, of which it can be said, this is irreconcilable with the darwinian theory. in the prodigious variety and complexity of organic nature, there are multitudes of phenomena which are not deducible from any generalisations we have yet reached. but the same may be said of every other class of natural objects. i believe that astronomers cannot yet get the moon's motions into perfect accordance with the theory of gravitation. it would be inappropriate, even if it were possible, to discuss the difficulties and unresolved problems which have hitherto met the evolutionist, and which will probably continue to puzzle him for generations to come, in the course of this brief history of the reception of mr. darwin's great work. but there are two or three objections of a more general character, based, or supposed to be based, upon philosophical and theological foundations, which were loudly expressed in the early days of the darwinian controversy, and which, though they have been answered over and over again, crop up now and then to the present day. the most singular of these, perhaps immortal, fallacies, which live on, tithonus-like, when sense and force have long deserted them, is that which charges mr. darwin with having attempted to reinstate the old pagan goddess, chance. it is said that he supposes variations to come about "by chance," and that the fittest survive the "chances" of the struggle for existence, and thus "chance" is substituted for providential design. it is not a little wonderful that such an accusation as this should be brought against a writer who has, over and over again, warned his readers that when he uses the word "spontaneous," he merely means that he is ignorant of the cause of that which is so termed; and whose whole theory crumbles to pieces if the uniformity and regularity of natural causation for illimitable past ages is denied. but probably the best answer to those who talk of darwinism meaning the reign of "chance," is to ask them what they themselves understand by "chance"? do they believe that anything in this universe happens without reason or without a cause? do they really conceive that any event has no cause, and could not have been predicted by any one who had a sufficient insight into the order of nature? if they do, it is they who are the inheritors of antique superstition and ignorance, and whose minds have never been illumined by a ray of scientific thought. the one act of faith in the convert to science, is the confession of the universality of order and of the absolute validity in all times and under all circumstances, of the law of causation. this confession is an act of faith, because, by the nature of the case, the truth of such propositions is not susceptible of proof. but such faith is not blind, but reasonable; because it is invariably confirmed by experience, and constitutes the sole trustworthy foundation for all action. if one of these people, in whom the chance-worship of our remoter ancestors thus strangely survives, should be within reach of the sea when a heavy gale is blowing, let him betake himself to the shore and watch the scene. let him note the infinite variety of form and size of the tossing waves out at sea; or of the curves of their foam-crested breakers, as they dash against the rocks; let him listen to the roar and scream of the shingle as it is cast up and torn down the beach; or look at the flakes of foam as they drive hither and thither before the wind; or note the play of colours, which answers a gleam of sunshine as it falls upon the myriad bubbles. surely here, if anywhere, he will say that chance is supreme, and bend the knee as one who has entered the very penetralia of his divinity. but the man of science knows that here, as everywhere, perfect order is manifested; that there is not a curve of the waves, not a note in the howling chorus, not a rainbow-glint on a bubble, which is other than a necessary consequence of the ascertained laws of nature; and that with a sufficient knowledge of the conditions, competent physico-mathematical skill could account for, and indeed predict, every one of these "chance" events. a second very common objection to mr. darwin's views was (and is), that they abolish teleology, and eviscerate the argument from design. it is nearly twenty years since i ventured to offer some remarks on this subject, and as my arguments have as yet received no refutation, i hope i may be excused for reproducing them. i observed, "that the doctrine of evolution is the most formidable opponent of all the commoner and coarser forms of teleology. but perhaps the most remarkable service to the philosophy of biology rendered by mr. darwin is the reconciliation of teleology and morphology, and the explanation of the facts of both, which his views offer. the teleology which supposes that the eye, such as we see it in man, or one of the higher vertebrata, was made with the precise structure it exhibits, for the purpose of enabling the animal which possesses it to see, has undoubtedly received its death-blow. nevertheless, it is necessary to remember that there is a wider teleology which is not touched by the doctrine of evolution, but is actually based upon the fundamental proposition of evolution. this proposition is that the whole world, living and not living, is the result of the mutual interaction, according to definite laws, of the forces (i should now like to substitute the word powers for "forces.") possessed by the molecules of which the primitive nebulosity of the universe was composed. if this be true, it is no less certain that the existing world lay potentially in the cosmic vapour, and that a sufficient intelligence could, from a knowledge of the properties of the molecules of that vapour, have predicted, say the state of the fauna of britain in , with as much certainty as one can say what will happen to the vapour of the breath on a cold winter's day... ...the teleological and the mechanical views of nature are not, necessarily, mutually exclusive. on the contrary, the more purely a mechanist the speculator is, the more firmly does he assume a primordial molecular arrangement of which all the phenomena of the universe are the consequences, and the more completely is he thereby at the mercy of the teleologist, who can always defy him to disprove that this primordial molecular arrangement was not intended to evolve the phenomena of the universe." (the "genealogy of animals" ('the academy,' ), reprinted in 'critiques and addresses.') the acute champion of teleology, paley, saw no difficulty in admitting that the "production of things" may be the result of trains of mechanical dispositions fixed beforehand by intelligent appointment and kept in action by a power at the centre ('natural theology,' chapter xxiii.), that is to say, he proleptically accepted the modern doctrine of evolution; and his successors might do well to follow their leader, or at any rate to attend to his weighty reasonings, before rushing into an antagonism which has no reasonable foundation. having got rid of the belief in chance and the disbelief in design, as in no sense appurtenances of evolution, the third libel upon that doctrine, that it is anti-theistic, might perhaps be left to shift for itself. but the persistence with which many people refuse to draw the plainest consequences from the propositions they profess to accept, renders it advisable to remark that the doctrine of evolution is neither anti-theistic nor theistic. it simply has no more to do with theism than the first book of euclid has. it is quite certain that a normal fresh-laid egg contains neither cock nor hen; and it is also as certain as any proposition in physics or morals, that if such an egg is kept under proper conditions for three weeks, a cock or hen chicken will be found in it. it is also quite certain that if the shell were transparent we should be able to watch the formation of the young fowl, day by day, by a process of evolution, from a microscopic cellular germ to its full size and complication of structure. therefore evolution, in the strictest sense, is actually going on in this and analogous millions and millions of instances, wherever living creatures exist. therefore, to borrow an argument from butler, as that which now happens must be consistent with the attributes of the deity, if such a being exists, evolution must be consistent with those attributes. and, if so, the evolution of the universe, which is neither more nor less explicable than that of a chicken, must also be consistent with them. the doctrine of evolution, therefore, does not even come into contact with theism, considered as a philosophical doctrine. that with which it does collide, and with which it is absolutely inconsistent, is the conception of creation, which theological speculators have based upon the history narrated in the opening of the book of genesis. there is a great deal of talk and not a little lamentation about the so-called religious difficulties which physical science has created. in theological science, as a matter of fact, it has created none. not a solitary problem presents itself to the philosophical theist, at the present day, which has not existed from the time that philosophers began to think out the logical grounds and the logical consequences of theism. all the real or imaginary perplexities which flow from the conception of the universe as a determinate mechanism, are equally involved in the assumption of an eternal, omnipotent and omniscient deity. the theological equivalent of the scientific conception of order is providence; and the doctrine of determinism follows as surely from the attributes of foreknowledge assumed by the theologian, as from the universality of natural causation assumed by the man of science. the angels in 'paradise lost' would have found the task of enlightening adam upon the mysteries of "fate, foreknowledge, and free-will," not a whit more difficult, if their pupil had been educated in a "real-schule" and trained in every laboratory of a modern university. in respect of the great problems of philosophy, the post-darwinian generation is, in one sense, exactly where the prae-darwinian generations were. they remain insoluble. but the present generation has the advantage of being better provided with the means of freeing itself from the tyranny of certain sham solutions. the known is finite, the unknown infinite; intellectually we stand on an islet in the midst of an illimitable ocean of inexplicability. our business in every generation is to reclaim a little more land, to add something to the extent and the solidity of our possessions. and even a cursory glance at the history of the biological sciences during the last quarter of a century is sufficient to justify the assertion, that the most potent instrument for the extension of the realm of natural knowledge which has come into men's hands, since the publication of newton's 'principia,' is darwin's 'origin of species.' it was badly received by the generation to which it was first addressed, and the outpouring of angry nonsense to which it gave rise is sad to think upon. but the present generation will probably behave just as badly if another darwin should arise, and inflict upon them that which the generality of mankind most hate--the necessity of revising their convictions. let them, then, be charitable to us ancients; and if they behave no better than the men of my day to some new benefactor, let them recollect that, after all, our wrath did not come to much, and vented itself chiefly in the bad language of sanctimonious scolds. let them as speedily perform a strategic right-about-face, and follow the truth wherever it leads. the opponents of the new truth will discover, as those of darwin are doing, that, after all, theories do not alter facts, and that the universe remains unaffected even though texts crumble. or, it may be, that, as history repeats itself, their happy ingenuity will also discover that the new wine is exactly of the same vintage as the old, and that (rightly viewed) the old bottles prove to have been expressly made for holding it. the life and letters of charles darwin including an autobiographical chapter edited by his son francis darwin in two volumes volume ii table of contents. volume ii. chapter .i.--the publication of the 'origin of species'--october , , to december , . chapter .ii.--the 'origin of species' (continued)-- . chapter .iii.--the spread of evolution-- - . chapter .iv.--the spread of evolution. 'variation of animals and plants' -- - . chapter .v.--the publication of the 'variation of animals and plants under domestication'--january -june . chapter .vi.--work on 'man'-- - . chapter .vii.--the publication of the 'descent of man.' work on 'expression'-- - . chapter .viii.--miscellanea, including second editions of 'coral reefs,' the 'descent of man,' and the 'variation of animals and plants'-- and . chapter .ix.--miscellanea (continued). a revival of geological work--the book on earthworms--life of erasmus darwin--miscellaneous letters-- - . botanical letters. chapter .x.--fertilisation of flowers-- - . chapter .xi.--the 'effects of cross- and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom'-- - . chapter .xii.--'different forms of flowers on plants of the same species' -- - . chapter .xiii.--climbing and insectivorous plants-- - . chapter .xiv.--the 'power of movement in plants'-- - . chapter .xv.--miscellaneous botanical letters-- - .... chapter .xvi.--conclusion. appendices. i.--the funeral in westminster abbey. ii.--list of works by c. darwin. iii.--portraits. iv.--honours, degrees, societies, etc. transcript of a facsimile of a page from a note-book of . --led to comprehend true affinities. my theory would give zest to recent & fossil comparative anatomy: it would lead to study of instincts, heredity, & mind heredity, whole metaphysics, it would lead to closest examination of hybridity & generation, causes of change in order to know what we have come from & to what we tend, to what circumstances favour crossing & what prevents it, this & direct examination of direct passages of structure in species, might lead to laws of change, which would then be main object of study, to guide our speculations. life and letters of charles darwin. volume ii. chapter .i. -- the publication of the 'origin of species.' october , , to december , . . [under the date of october st, , in my father's diary occurs the entry: "finished proofs (thirteen months and ten days) of abstract on 'origin of species'; copies printed. the first edition was published on november th, and all copies sold first day." on october d he started for a water-cure establishment at ilkley, near leeds, where he remained with his family until december, and on the th of that month he was again at down. the only other entry in the diary for this year is as follows: "during end of november and beginning of december, employed in correcting for second edition of copies; multitude of letters." the first and a few of the subsequent letters refer to proof sheets, and to early copies of the 'origin' which were sent to friends before the book was published.] c. lyell to charles darwin. (part of this letter is given in the 'life of sir charles lyell,' volume ii. page .) october d, . my dear darwin, i have just finished your volume and right glad i am that i did my best with hooker to persuade you to publish it without waiting for a time which probably could never have arrived, though you lived till the age of a hundred, when you had prepared all your facts on which you ground so many grand generalizations. it is a splendid case of close reasoning, and long substantial argument throughout so many pages; the condensation immense, too great perhaps for the uninitiated, but an effective and important preliminary statement, which will admit, even before your detailed proofs appear, of some occasional useful exemplification, such as your pigeons and cirripedes, of which you make such excellent use. i mean that, when, as i fully expect, a new edition is soon called for, you may here and there insert an actual case to relieve the vast number of abstract propositions. so far as i am concerned, i am so well prepared to take your statements of facts for granted, that i do not think the "pieces justificatives" when published will make much difference, and i have long seen most clearly that if any concession is made, all that you claim in your concluding pages will follow. it is this which has made me so long hesitate, always feeling that the case of man and his races, and of other animals, and that of plants is one and the same, and that if a "vera causa" be admitted for one, instead of a purely unknown and imaginary one, such as the word "creation," all the consequences must follow. i fear i have not time to-day, as i am just leaving this place, to indulge in a variety of comments, and to say how much i was delighted with oceanic islands--rudimentary organs--embryology--the genealogical key to the natural system, geographical distribution, and if i went on i should be copying the heads of all your chapters. but i will say a word of the recapitulation, in case some slight alteration, or at least, omission of a word or two be still possible in that. in the first place, at page , it cannot surely be said that the most eminent naturalists have rejected the view of the mutability of species? you do not mean to ignore g. st. hilaire and lamarck. as to the latter, you may say, that in regard to animals you substitute natural selection for volition to a certain considerable extent, but in his theory of the changes of plants he could not introduce volition; he may, no doubt, have laid an undue comparative stress on changes in physical conditions, and too little on those of contending organisms. he at least was for the universal mutability of species and for a genealogical link between the first and the present. the men of his school also appealed to domesticated varieties. (do you mean living naturalists?) (in the published copies of the first edition, page , the words are "eminent living naturalists.") the first page of this most important summary gives the adversary an advantage, by putting forth so abruptly and crudely such a startling objection as the formation of "the eye," not by means analogous to man's reason, or rather by some power immeasurably superior to human reason, but by superinduced variation like those of which a cattle-breeder avails himself. pages would be required thus to state an objection and remove it. it would be better, as you wish to persuade, to say nothing. leave out several sentences, and in a future edition bring it out more fully. between the throwing down of such a stumbling-block in the way of the reader, and the passage to the working ants, in page , there are pages required; and these ants are a bathos to him before he has recovered from the shock of being called upon to believe the eye to have been brought to perfection, from a state of blindness or purblindness, by such variations as we witness. i think a little omission would greatly lessen the objectionableness of these sentences if you have not time to recast and amplify. ... but these are small matters, mere spots on the sun. your comparison of the letters retained in words, when no longer wanted for the sound, to rudimentary organs is excellent, as both are truly genealogical. the want of peculiar birds in madeira is a greater difficulty than seemed to me allowed for. i could cite passages where you show that variations are superinduced from the new circumstances of new colonists, which would require some madeira birds, like those of the galapagos, to be peculiar. there has been ample time in the case of madeira and porto santo... you enclose your sheets in old ms., so the post office very properly charge them as letters, pence extra. i wish all their fines on ms. were worth as much. i paid shillings pence for such wash the other day from paris, from a man who can prove deluges in the valley of the seine. with my hearty congratulations to you on your grand work, believe me, ever very affectionately yours, chas. lyell. charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley, yorkshire, october th [ ]. my dear lyell, i thank you cordially for giving me so much of your valuable time in writing me the long letter of d, and still longer of th. i wrote a line with the missing proof-sheet to scarborough. i have adopted most thankfully all your minor corrections in the last chapter, and the greater ones as far as i could with little trouble. i damped the opening passage about the eye (in my bigger work i show the gradations in structure of the eye) by putting merely "complex organs." but you are a pretty lord chancellor to tell the barrister on one side how best to win the cause! the omission of "living" before eminent naturalists was a dreadful blunder. madeira and bermuda birds not peculiar. you are right, there is a screw out here; i thought no one would have detected it; i blundered in omitting a discussion, which i have written out in full. but once for all, let me say as an excuse, that it was most difficult to decide what to omit. birds, which have struggled in their own homes, when settled in a body, nearly simultaneously in a new country, would not be subject to much modification, for their mutual relations would not be much disturbed. but i quite agree with you, that in time they ought to undergo some. in bermuda and madeira they have, as i believe, been kept constant by the frequent arrival, and the crossing with unaltered immigrants of the same species from the mainland. in bermuda this can be proved, in madeira highly probable, as shown me by letters from e.v. harcourt. moreover, there are ample grounds for believing that the crossed offspring of the new immigrants (fresh blood as breeders would say), and old colonists of the same species would be extra vigorous, and would be the most likely to survive; thus the effects of such crossing in keeping the old colonists unaltered would be much aided. on galapagos productions having american type on view of creation. i cannot agree with you, that species if created to struggle with american forms, would have to be created on the american type. facts point diametrically the other way. look at the unbroken and untilled ground in la plata, covered with european products, which have no near affinity to the indigenous products. they are not american types which conquer the aborigines. so in every island throughout the world. alph. de candolle's results (though he does not see its full importance), that thoroughly well naturalised [plants] are in general very different from the aborigines (belonging in large proportion of cases to non-indigenous genera) is most important always to bear in mind. once for all, i am sure, you will understand that i thus write dogmatically for brevity sake. on the continued creation of monads. this doctrine is superfluous (and groundless) on the theory of natural selection, which implies no necessary tendency to progression. a monad, if no deviation in its structure profitable to it under its excessively simple conditions of life occurred, might remain unaltered from long before the silurian age to the present day. i grant there will generally be a tendency to advance in complexity of organisation, though in beings fitted for very simple conditions it would be slight and slow. how could a complex organisation profit a monad? if it did not profit it there would be no advance. the secondary infusoria differ but little from the living. the parent monad form might perfectly well survive unaltered and fitted for its simple conditions, whilst the offspring of this very monad might become fitted for more complex conditions. the one primordial prototype of all living and extinct creatures may, it is possible, be now alive! moreover, as you say, higher forms might be occasionally degraded, the snake typhlops seems (?!) to have the habits of earth-worms. so that fresh creatures of simple forms seem to me wholly superfluous. "must you not assume a primeval creative power which does not act with uniformity, or how could man supervene?" i am not sure that i understand your remarks which follow the above. we must under present knowledge assume the creation of one or of a few forms in the same manner as philosophers assume the existence of a power of attraction without any explanation. but i entirely reject, as in my judgment quite unnecessary, any subsequent addition "of new powers and attributes and forces;" or of any "principle of improvement," except in so far as every character which is naturally selected or preserved is in some way an advantage or improvement, otherwise it would not have been selected. if i were convinced that i required such additions to the theory of natural selection, i would reject it as rubbish, but i have firm faith in it, as i cannot believe, that if false, it would explain so many whole classes of facts, which, if i am in my senses, it seems to explain. as far as i understand your remarks and illustrations, you doubt the possibility of gradations of intellectual powers. now, it seems to me, looking to existing animals alone, that we have a very fine gradation in the intellectual powers of the vertebrata, with one rather wide gap (not half so wide as in many cases of corporeal structure), between say a hottentot and a ourang, even if civilised as much mentally as the dog has been from the wolf. i suppose that you do not doubt that the intellectual powers are as important for the welfare of each being as corporeal structure; if so, i can see no difficulty in the most intellectual individuals of a species being continually selected; and the intellect of the new species thus improved, aided probably by effects of inherited mental exercise. i look at this process as now going on with the races of man; the less intellectual races being exterminated. but there is not space to discuss this point. if i understand you, the turning-point in our difference must be, that you think it impossible that the intellectual powers of a species should be much improved by the continued natural selection of the most intellectual individuals. to show how minds graduate, just reflect how impossible every one has yet found it, to define the difference in mind of man and the lower animals; the latter seem to have the very same attributes in a much lower stage of perfection than the lowest savage. i would give absolutely nothing for the theory of natural selection, if it requires miraculous additions at any one stage of descent. i think embryology, homology, classification, etc., etc., show us that all vertebrata have descended from one parent; how that parent appeared we know not. if you admit in ever so little a degree, the explanation which i have given of embryology, homology and classification, you will find it difficult to say: thus far the explanation holds good, but no further; here we must call in "the addition of new creative forces." i think you will be driven to reject all or admit all: i fear by your letter it will be the former alternative; and in that case i shall feel sure it is my fault, and not the theory's fault, and this will certainly comfort me. with regard to the descent of the great kingdoms (as vertebrata, articulata, etc.) from one parent, i have said in the conclusion, that mere analogy makes me think it probable; my arguments and facts are sound in my judgment only for each separate kingdom. the forms which are beaten inheriting some inferiority in common. i dare say i have not been guarded enough, but might not the term inferiority include less perfect adaptation to physical conditions? my remarks apply not to single species, but to groups or genera; the species of most genera are adapted at least to rather hotter, and rather less hot, to rather damper and dryer climates; and when the several species of a group are beaten and exterminated by the several species of another group, it will not, i think, generally be from each new species being adapted to the climate, but from all the new species having some common advantage in obtaining sustenance, or escaping enemies. as groups are concerned, a fairer illustration than negro and white in liberia would be the almost certain future extinction of the genus ourang by the genus man, not owing to man being better fitted for the climate, but owing to the inherited intellectual inferiority of the ourang-genus to man-genus, by his intellect, inventing fire-arms and cutting down forests. i believe from reasons given in my discussion, that acclimatisation is readily effected under nature. it has taken me so many years to disabuse my mind of the too great importance of climate--its important influence being so conspicuous, whilst that of a struggle between creature and creature is so hidden--that i am inclined to swear at the north pole, and, as sydney smith said, even to speak disrespectfully of the equator. i beg you often to reflect (i have found nothing so instructive) on the case of thousands of plants in the middle point of their respective ranges, and which, as we positively know, can perfectly well withstand a little more heat and cold, a little more damp and dry, but which in the metropolis of their range do not exist in vast numbers, although if many of the other inhabitants were destroyed [they] would cover the ground. we thus clearly see that their numbers are kept down, in almost every case, not by climate, but by the struggle with other organisms. all this you will perhaps think very obvious; but, until i repeated it to myself thousands of times, i took, as i believe, a wholly wrong view of the whole economy of nature... hybridism. i am so much pleased that you approve of this chapter; you would be astonished at the labour this cost me; so often was i, on what i believe was, the wrong scent. rudimentary organs. on the theory of natural selection there is a wide distinction between rudimentary organs and what you call germs of organs, and what i call in my bigger book "nascent" organs. an organ should not be called rudimentary unless it be useless--as teeth which never cut through the gums--the papillae, representing the pistil in male flowers, wing of apteryx, or better, the little wings under soldered elytra. these organs are now plainly useless, and a fortiori, they would be useless in a less developed state. natural selection acts exclusively by preserving successive slight, useful modifications. hence natural selection cannot possibly make a useless or rudimentary organ. such organs are solely due to inheritance (as explained in my discussion), and plainly bespeak an ancestor having the organ in a useful condition. they may be, and often have been, worked in for other purposes, and then they are only rudimentary for the original function, which is sometimes plainly apparent. a nascent organ, though little developed, as it has to be developed must be useful in every stage of development. as we cannot prophesy, we cannot tell what organs are now nascent; and nascent organs will rarely have been handed down by certain members of a class from a remote period to the present day, for beings with any important organ but little developed, will generally have been supplanted by their descendants with the organ well developed. the mammary glands in ornithorhynchus may, perhaps, be considered as nascent compared with the udders of a cow--ovigerous frena, in certain cirripedes, are nascent branchiae--in [illegible] the swim bladder is almost rudimentary for this purpose, and is nascent as a lung. the small wing of penguin, used only as a fin, might be nascent as a wing; not that i think so; for the whole structure of the bird is adapted for flight, and a penguin so closely resembles other birds, that we may infer that its wings have probably been modified, and reduced by natural selection, in accordance with its sub-aquatic habits. analogy thus often serves as a guide in distinguishing whether an organ is rudimentary or nascent. i believe the os coccyx gives attachment to certain muscles, but i can not doubt that it is a rudimentary tail. the bastard wing of birds is a rudimentary digit; and i believe that if fossil birds are found very low down in the series, they will be seen to have a double or bifurcated wing. here is a bold prophecy! to admit prophetic germs, is tantamount to rejecting the theory of natural selection. i am very glad you think it worth while to run through my book again, as much, or more, for the subject's sake as for my own sake. but i look at your keeping the subject for some little time before your mind--raising your own difficulties and solving them--as far more important than reading my book. if you think enough, i expect you will be perverted, and if you ever are, i shall know that the theory of natural selection, is, in the main, safe; that it includes, as now put forth, many errors, is almost certain, though i cannot see them. do not, of course, think of answering this; but if you have other occasion to write again, just say whether i have, in ever so slight a degree, shaken any of your objections. farewell. with my cordial thanks for your long letters and valuable remarks, believe me, yours most truly, c. darwin. p.s.--you often allude to lamarck's work; i do not know what you think about it, but it appeared to me extremely poor; i got not a fact or idea from it. charles darwin to l. agassiz. (jean louis rodolphe agassiz, born at mortier, on the lake of morat in switzerland, on may , . he emigrated to america in , where he spent the rest of his life, and died december , . his 'life,' written by his widow, was published in . the following extract from a letter to agassiz ( ) is worth giving, as showing how my father regarded him, and it may be added that his cordial feelings towards the great american naturalist remained strong to the end of his life:-- "i have seldom been more deeply gratified than by receiving your most kind present of 'lake superior.' i had heard of it, and had much wished to read it, but i confess that it was the very great honour of having in my possession a work with your autograph as a presentation copy that has given me such lively and sincere pleasure. i cordially thank you for it. i have begun to read it with uncommon interest, which i see will increase as i go on.") down, november th [ ]. my dear sir, i have ventured to send you a copy of my book (as yet only an abstract) on the 'origin of species.' as the conclusions at which i have arrived on several points differ so widely from yours, i have thought (should you at any time read my volume) that you might think that i had sent it to you out of a spirit of defiance or bravado; but i assure you that i act under a wholly different frame of mind. i hope that you will at least give me credit, however erroneous you may think my conclusions, for having earnestly endeavoured to arrive at the truth. with sincere respect, i beg leave to remain, yours, very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to a. de candolle. down, november th [ ]. dear sir, i have thought that you would permit me to send you (by messrs. williams and norgate, booksellers) a copy of my work (as yet only an abstract) on the 'origin of species.' i wish to do this, as the only, though quite inadequate manner, by which i can testify to you the extreme interest which i have felt, and the great advantage which i have derived, from studying your grand and noble work on geographical distribution. should you be induced to read my volume, i venture to remark that it will be intelligible only by reading the whole straight through, as it is very much condensed. it would be a high gratification to me if any portion interested you. but i am perfectly well aware that you will entirely disagree with the conclusion at which i have arrived. you will probably have quite forgotten me; but many years ago you did me the honour of dining at my house in london to meet m. and madame sismondi (jessie allen, sister of mrs. josiah wedgwood of maer.), the uncle and aunt of my wife. with sincere respect, i beg to remain, yours, very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to hugh falconer. down, november th [ ]. my dear falconer, i have told murray to send you a copy of my book on the 'origin of species,' which as yet is only an abstract. if you read it, you must read it straight through, otherwise from its extremely condensed state it will be unintelligible. lord, how savage you will be, if you read it, and how you will long to crucify me alive! i fear it will produce no other effect on you; but if it should stagger you in ever so slight a degree, in this case, i am fully convinced that you will become, year after year, less fixed in your belief in the immutability of species. with this audacious and presumptuous conviction, i remain, my dear falconer, yours most truly, charles darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, november th [ ]. my dear gray, i have directed a copy of my book (as yet only an abstract) on the 'origin of species' to be sent you. i know how you are pressed for time; but if you can read it, i shall be infinitely gratified...if ever you do read it, and can screw out time to send me (as i value your opinion so highly), however short a note, telling me what you think its weakest and best parts, i should be extremely grateful. as you are not a geologist, you will excuse my conceit in telling you that lyell highly approves of the two geological chapters, and thinks that on the imperfection of the geological record not exaggerated. he is nearly a convert to my views... let me add i fully admit that there are very many difficulties not satisfactorily explained by my theory of descent with modification, but i cannot possibly believe that a false theory would explain so many classes of facts as i think it certainly does explain. on these grounds i drop my anchor, and believe that the difficulties will slowly disappear... charles darwin to j.s. henslow. down, november th, . my dear henslow, i have told murray to send a copy of my book on species to you, my dear old master in natural history; i fear, however, that you will not approve of your pupil in this case. the book in its present state does not show the amount of labour which i have bestowed on the subject. if you have time to read it carefully, and would take the trouble to point out what parts seem weakest to you and what best, it would be a most material aid to me in writing my bigger book, which i hope to commence in a few months. you know also how highly i value your judgment. but i am not so unreasonable as to wish or expect you to write detailed and lengthy criticisms, but merely a few general remarks, pointing out the weakest parts. if you are in even so slight a degree staggered (which i hardly expect) on the immutability of species, then i am convinced with further reflection you will become more and more staggered, for this has been the process through which my mind has gone. my dear henslow, yours affectionately and gratefully, c. darwin. charles darwin to john lubbock. (the present sir john lubbock.) ilkley, yorkshire, saturday [november th, ]. ... thank you much for asking me to brighton. i hope much that you will enjoy your holiday. i have told murray to send a copy for you to mansion house street, and i am surprised that you have not received it. there are so many valid and weighty arguments against my notions, that you, or any one, if you wish on the other side, will easily persuade yourself that i am wholly in error, and no doubt i am in part in error, perhaps wholly so, though i cannot see the blindness of my ways. i dare say when thunder and lightning were first proved to be due to secondary causes, some regretted to give up the idea that each flash was caused by the direct hand of god. farewell, i am feeling very unwell to-day, so no more. yours very truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to john lubbock. ilkley, yorkshire, tuesday [november th, ]. my dear lubbock, i beg pardon for troubling you again. i do not know how i blundered in expressing myself in making you believe that we accepted your kind invitation to brighton. i meant merely to thank you sincerely for wishing to see such a worn-out old dog as myself. i hardly know when we leave this place,--not under a fortnight, and then we shall wish to rest under our own roof-tree. i do not think i hardly ever admired a book more than paley's 'natural theology.' i could almost formerly have said it by heart. i am glad you have got my book, but i fear that you value it far too highly. i should be grateful for any criticisms. i care not for reviews; but for the opinion of men like you and hooker and huxley and lyell, etc. farewell, with our joint thanks to mrs. lubbock and yourself. adios. c. darwin. charles darwin to l. jenyns. (now rev. l. blomefield.) ilkley, yorkshire, november th, . my dear jenyns, i must thank you for your very kind note forwarded to me from down. i have been much out of health this summer, and have been hydropathising here for the last six weeks with very little good as yet. i shall stay here for another fortnight at least. please remember that my book is only an abstract, and very much condensed, and, to be at all intelligible, must be carefully read. i shall be very grateful for any criticisms. but i know perfectly well that you will not at all agree with the lengths which i go. it took long years to convert me. i may, of course, be egregiously wrong; but i cannot persuade myself that a theory which explains (as i think it certainly does) several large classes of facts, can be wholly wrong; notwithstanding the several difficulties which have to be surmounted somehow, and which stagger me even to this day. i wish that my health had allowed me to publish in extenso; if ever i get strong enough i will do so, as the greater part is written out, and of which ms. the present volume is an abstract. i fear this note will be almost illegible; but i am poorly, and can hardly sit up. farewell; with thanks for your kind note and pleasant remembrance of good old days. yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. ilkley, november th, . my dear sir, i have told murray to send you by post (if possible) a copy of my book, and i hope that you will receive it at nearly the same time with this note. (n.b. i have got a bad finger, which makes me write extra badly.) if you are so inclined, i should very much like to hear your general impression of the book, as you have thought so profoundly on the subject, and in so nearly the same channel with myself. i hope there will be some little new to you, but i fear not much. remember it is only an abstract, and very much condensed. god knows what the public will think. no one has read it, except lyell, with whom i have had much correspondence. hooker thinks him a complete convert, but he does not seem so in his letters to me; but is evidently deeply interested in the subject. i do not think your share in the theory will be overlooked by the real judges, as hooker, lyell, asa gray, etc. i have heard from mr. slater that your paper on the malay archipelago has been read at the linnean society, and that he was extremely much interested by it. i have not seen one naturalist for six or nine months, owing to the state of my health, and therefore i really have no news to tell you. i am writing this at ilkley wells, where i have been with my family for the last six weeks, and shall stay for some few weeks longer. as yet i have profited very little. god knows when i shall have strength for my bigger book. i sincerely hope that you keep your health; i suppose that you will be thinking of returning (mr. wallace was in the malay archipelago.) soon with your magnificent collections, and still grander mental materials. you will be puzzled how to publish. the royal society fund will be worth your consideration. with every good wish, pray believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s. i think that i told you before that hooker is a complete convert. if i can convert huxley i shall be content. charles darwin to w.d. fox. ilkley, yorkshire, wednesday [november th, ]. ... i like the place very much, and the children have enjoyed it much, and it has done my wife good. it did h. good at first, but she has gone back again. i have had a series of calamities; first a sprained ankle, and then a badly swollen whole leg and face, much rash, and a frightful succession of boils--four or five at once. i have felt quite ill, and have little faith in this "unique crisis," as the doctor calls it, doing me much good...you will probably have received, or will very soon receive, my weariful book on species, i naturally believe it mainly includes the truth, but you will not at all agree with me. dr. hooker, whom i consider one of the best judges in europe, is a complete convert, and he thinks lyell is likewise; certainly, judging from lyell's letters to me on the subject, he is deeply staggered. farewell. if the spirit moves you, let me have a line... charles darwin to w.b. carpenter. ilkley, yorkshire, november th [ ]. my dear carpenter, i must thank you for your letter on my own account, and if i know myself, still more warmly for the subject's sake. as you seem to have understood my last chapter without reading the previous chapters, you must have maturely and most profoundly self-thought out the subject; for i have found the most extraordinary difficulty in making even able men understand at what i was driving. there will be strong opposition to my views. if i am in the main right (of course including partial errors unseen by me), the admission in my views will depend far more on men, like yourself, with well-established reputations, than on my own writings. therefore, on the supposition that when you have read my volume you think the view in the main true, i thank and honour you for being willing to run the chance of unpopularity by advocating the view. i know not in the least whether any one will review me in any of the reviews. i do not see how an author could enquire or interfere; but if you are willing to review me anywhere, i am sure from the admiration which i have long felt and expressed for your 'comparative physiology,' that your review will be excellently done, and will do good service in the cause for which i think i am not selfishly deeply interested. i am feeling very unwell to-day, and this note is badly, perhaps hardly intelligibly, expressed; but you must excuse me, for i could not let a post pass, without thanking you for your note. you will have a tough job even to shake in the slightest degree sir h. holland. i do not think (privately i say it) that the great man has knowledge enough to enter on the subject. pray believe me with sincerity, yours truly obliged, c. darwin. p.s.--as you are not a practical geologist, let me add that lyell thinks the chapter on the imperfection of the geological record not exaggerated. charles darwin to w.b. carpenter. ilkley, yorkshire, november th [ ]. my dear carpenter, i beg pardon for troubling you again. if, after reading my book, you are able to come to a conclusion in any degree definite, will you think me very unreasonable in asking you to let me hear from you. i do not ask for a long discussion, but merely for a brief idea of your general impression. from your widely extended knowledge, habit of investigating the truth, and abilities, i should value your opinion in the very highest rank. though i, of course, believe in the truth of my own doctrine, i suspect that no belief is vivid until shared by others. as yet i know only one believer, but i look at him as of the greatest authority, viz., hooker. when i think of the many cases of men who have studied one subject for years, and have persuaded themselves of the truth of the foolishest doctrines, i feel sometimes a little frightened, whether i may not be one of these mon-maniacs. again pray excuse this, i fear, unreasonable request. a short note would suffice, and i could bear a hostile verdict, and shall have to bear many a one. yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. ilkley, yorkshire, sunday [november ]. my dear hooker, i have just read a review on my book in the "athenaeum" (november , .), and it excites my curiosity much who is the author. if you should hear who writes in the "athenaeum" i wish you would tell me. it seems to me well done, but the reviewer gives no new objections, and, being hostile, passes over every single argument in favour of the doctrine,... i fear from the tone of the review, that i have written in a conceited and cocksure style (the reviewer speaks of the author's "evident self-satisfaction," and of his disposing of all difficulties "more or less confidently."), which shames me a little. there is another review of which i should like to know the author, viz., of h.c. watson in the "gardener's chronicle". some of the remarks are like yours, and he does deserve punishment; but surely the review is too severe. don't you think so? i hope you got the three copies for foreign botanists in time for your parcel, and your own copy. i have heard from carpenter, who, i think, is likely to be a convert. also from quatrefages, who is inclined to go a long way with us. he says that he exhibited in his lecture a diagram closely like mine! i shall stay here one fortnight more, and then go to down, staying on the road at shrewsbury a week. i have been very unfortunate: out of seven weeks i have been confined for five to the house. this has been bad for me, as i have not been able to help thinking to a foolish extent about my book. if some four or five good men came round nearly to our view, i shall not fear ultimate success. i long to learn what huxley thinks. is your introduction (introduction to the 'flora of australia.') published? i suppose that you will sell it separately. please answer this, for i want an extra copy to send away to wallace. i am very bothersome, farewell. yours affectionately, c. darwin. i was very glad to see the royal medal for mr. bentham. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, december st, . my dear hooker, pray give my thanks to mrs. hooker for her extremely kind note, which has pleased me much. we are very sorry she cannot come here, but shall be delighted to see you and w. (our boys will be at home) here in the nd week of january, or any other time. i shall much enjoy discussing any points in my book with you... i hate to hear you abuse your own work. i, on the contrary, so sincerely value all that you have written. it is an old and firm conviction of mine, that the naturalists who accumulate facts and make many partial generalisations are the real benefactors of science. those who merely accumulate facts i cannot very much respect. i had hoped to have come up for the club to-morrow, but very much doubt whether i shall be able. ilkley seems to have done me no essential good. i attended the bench on monday, and was detained in adjudicating some troublesome cases / hours longer than usual, and came home utterly knocked up, and cannot rally. i am not worth an old button... many thanks for your pleasant note. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--i feel confident that for the future progress of the subject of the origin and manner of formation of species, the assent and arguments and facts of working naturalists, like yourself, are far more important than my own book; so for god's sake do not abuse your introduction. h.c. watson to charles darwin. thames ditton, november st [ ]. my dear sir, once commenced to read the 'origin,' i could not rest till i had galloped through the whole. i shall now begin to re-read it more deliberately. meantime i am tempted to write you the first impressions, not doubting that they will, in the main, be the permanent impressions:-- st. your leading idea will assuredly become recognised as an established truth in science, i.e. "natural selection." it has the characteristics of all great natural truths, clarifying what was obscure, simplifying what was intricate, adding greatly to previous knowledge. you are the greatest revolutionist in natural history of this century, if not of all centuries. nd. you will perhaps need, in some degree, to limit or modify, possibly in some degree also to extend, your present applications of the principle of natural selection. without going to matters of more detail, it strikes me that there is one considerable primary inconsistency, by one failure in the analogy between varieties and species; another by a sort of barrier assumed for nature on insufficient grounds and arising from "divergence." these may, however, be faults in my own mind, attributable to yet incomplete perception of your views. and i had better not trouble you about them before again reading the volume. rd. now these novel views are brought fairly before the scientific public, it seems truly remarkable how so many of them could have failed to see their right road sooner. how could sir c. lyell, for instance, for thirty years read, write, and think, on the subject of species and their succession, and yet constantly look down the wrong road! a quarter of a century ago, you and i must have been in something like the same state of mind on the main question, but you were able to see and work out the quo modo of the succession, the all-important thing, while i failed to grasp it. i send by this post a little controversial pamphlet of old date--combe and scott. if you will take the trouble to glance at the passages scored on the margin, you will see that, a quarter of a century ago, i was also one of the few who then doubted the absolute distinctness of species, and special creations of them. yet i, like the rest, failed to detect the quo modo which was reserved for your penetration to discover, and your discernment to apply. you answered my query about the hiatus between satyrus and homo as was expected. the obvious explanation really never occurred to me till some months after i had read the papers in the 'linnean proceedings.' the first species of fere-homo ("almost-man.") would soon make direct and exterminating war upon his infra-homo cousins. the gap would thus be made, and then go on increasing, into the present enormous and still widening hiatus. but how greatly this, with your chronology of animal life, will shock the ideas of many men! very sincerely, hewett c. watson. j.d. hooker to charles darwin. athenaeum, monday [november st, ]. my dear darwin, i am a sinner not to have written you ere this, if only to thank you for your glorious book--what a mass of close reasoning on curious facts and fresh phenomena--it is capitally written, and will be very successful. i say this on the strength of two or three plunges into as many chapters, for i have not yet attempted to read it. lyell, with whom we are staying, is perfectly enchanted, and is absolutely gloating over it. i must accept your compliment to me, and acknowledgment of supposed assistance from me, as the warm tribute of affection from an honest (though deluded) man, and furthermore accept it as very pleasing to my vanity; but, my dear fellow, neither my name nor my judgment nor my assistance deserved any such compliments, and if i am dishonest enough to be pleased with what i don't deserve, it must just pass. how different the book reads from the ms. i see i shall have much to talk over with you. those lazy printers have not finished my luckless essay; which, beside your book, will look like a ragged handkerchief beside a royal standard... all well, ever yours affectionately, jos. d. hooker. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. ilkley, yorkshire [november ]. my dear hooker, i cannot help it, i must thank you for your affectionate and most kind note. my head will be turned. by jove, i must try and get a bit modest. i was a little chagrined by the review. (this refers to the review in the "athenaeum", november , , where the reviewer, after touching on the theological aspects of the book, leaves the author to "the mercies of the divinity hall, the college, the lecture room, and the museum.") i hope it was not --. as advocate, he might think himself justified in giving the argument only on one side. but the manner in which he drags in immortality, and sets the priests at me, and leaves me to their mercies, is base. he would, on no account, burn me, but he will get the wood ready, and tell the black beasts how to catch me... it would be unspeakably grand if huxley were to lecture on the subject, but i can see this is a mere chance; faraday might think it too unorthodox. ... i had a letter from [huxley] with such tremendous praise of my book, that modesty (as i am trying to cultivate that difficult herb) prevents me sending it to you, which i should have liked to have done, as he is very modest about himself. you have cockered me up to that extent, that i now feel i can face a score of savage reviewers. i suppose you are still with the lyells. give my kindest remembrance to them. i triumph to hear that he continues to approve. believe me, your would-be modest friend, c.d. charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley wells, yorkshire, november [ ]. my dear lyell, you seemed to have worked admirably on the species question; there could not have been a better plan than reading up on the opposite side. i rejoice profoundly that you intend admitting the doctrine of modification in your new edition (it appears from sir charles lyell's published letters that he intended to admit the doctrine of evolution in a new edition of the 'manual,' but this was not published till . he was, however, at work on the 'antiquity of man' in , and had already determined to discuss the 'origin' at the end of the book.); nothing, i am convinced, could be more important for its success. i honour you most sincerely. to have maintained in the position of a master, one side of a question for thirty years, and then deliberately give it up, is a fact to which i much doubt whether the records of science offer a parallel. for myself, also, i rejoice profoundly; for, thinking of so many cases of men pursuing an illusion for years, often and often a cold shudder has run through me, and i have asked myself whether i may not have devoted my life to a phantasy. now i look at it as morally impossible that investigators of truth, like you and hooker, can be wholly wrong, and therefore i rest in peace. thank you for criticisms, which, if there be a second edition, i will attend to. i have been thinking that if i am much execrated as an atheist, etc., whether the admission of the doctrine of natural selection could injure your works; but i hope and think not, for as far as i can remember, the virulence of bigotry is expended on the first offender, and those who adopt his views are only pitied as deluded, by the wise and cheerful bigots. i cannot help thinking that you overrate the importance of the multiple origin of dogs. the only difference is, that in the case of single origins, all difference of the races has originated since man domesticated the species. in the case of multiple origins part of the difference was produced under natural conditions. i should infinitely prefer the theory of single origin in all cases, if facts would permit its reception. but there seems to me some a priori improbability (seeing how fond savages are of taming animals), that throughout all times, and throughout all the world, that man should have domesticated one single species alone, of the widely distributed genus canis. besides this, the close resemblance of at least three kinds of american domestic dogs to wild species still inhabiting the countries where they are now domesticated, seem to almost compel admission that more than one wild canis has been domesticated by man. i thank you cordially for all the generous zeal and interest you have shown about my book, and i remain, my dear lyell, your affectionate friend and disciple, charles darwin. sir j. herschel, to whom i sent a copy, is going to read my book. he says he leans to the side opposed to me. if you should meet him after he has read me, pray find out what he thinks, for, of course, he will not write; and i should excessively like to hear whether i produce any effect on such a mind. t.h. huxley to charles darwin. jermyn street w., november rd, . my dear darwin, i finished your book yesterday, a lucky examination having furnished me with a few hours of continuous leisure. since i read von baer's (karl ernst von baer, born , died at dorpat --one of the most distinguished biologists of the century. he practically founded the modern science of embryology.) essays, nine years ago, no work on natural history science i have met with has made so great an impression upon me, and i do most heartily thank you for the great store of new views you have given me. nothing, i think, can be better than the tone of the book, it impresses those who know nothing about the subject. as for your doctrine, i am prepared to go to the stake, if requisite, in support of chapter ix., and most parts of chapters x., xi., xii., and chapter xiii. contains much that is most admirable, but on one or two points i enter a caveat until i can see further into all sides of the question. as to the first four chapters, i agree thoroughly and fully with all the principles laid down in them. i think you have demonstrated a true cause for the production of species, and have thrown the onus probandi that species did not arise in the way you suppose, on your adversaries. but i feel that i have not yet by any means fully realized the bearings of those most remarkable and original chapters iii., iv. and v., and i will write no more about them just now. the only objections that have occurred to me are, st that you have loaded yourself with an unnecessary difficulty in adopting natura non facit saltum so unreservedly... and nd, it is not clear to me why, if continual physical conditions are of so little moment as you suppose, variation should occur at all. however, i must read the book two or three times more before i presume to begin picking holes. i trust you will not allow yourself to be in any way disgusted or annoyed by the considerable abuse and misrepresentation which, unless i greatly mistake, is in store for you. depend upon it you have earned the lasting gratitude of all thoughtful men. and as to the curs which will bark and yelp, you must recollect that some of your friends, at any rate, are endowed with an amount of combativeness which (though you have often and justly rebuked it) may stand you in good stead. i am sharpening up my claws and beak in readiness. looking back over my letter, it really expresses so feebly all i think about you and your noble book that i am half ashamed of it; but you will understand that, like the parrot in the story, "i think the more." ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. ilkley, november th [ ]. my dear huxley, your letter has been forwarded to me from down. like a good catholic who has received extreme unction, i can now sing "nunc dimittis." i should have been more than contented with one quarter of what you have said. exactly fifteen months ago, when i put pen to paper for this volume, i had awful misgivings; and thought perhaps i had deluded myself, like so many have done, and i then fixed in my mind three judges, on whose decision i determined mentally to abide. the judges were lyell, hooker, and yourself. it was this which made me so excessively anxious for your verdict. i am now contented, and can sing my nunc dimittis. what a joke it would be if i pat you on the back when you attack some immovable creationist! you have most cleverly hit on one point, which has greatly troubled me; if, as i must think, external conditions produce little direct effect, what the devil determines each particular variation? what makes a tuft of feathers come on a cock's head, or moss on a moss-rose? i shall much like to talk over this with you... my dear huxley, i thank you cordially for your letter. yours very sincerely, c. darwin. p.s.--hereafter i shall be particularly curious to hear what you think of my explanation of embryological similarity. on classification i fear we shall split. did you perceive the argumentum ad hominem huxley about kangaroo and bear? erasmus darwin (his brother.) to charles darwin. november rd [ ]. dear charles, i am so much weaker in the head, that i hardly know if i can write, but at all events i will jot down a few things that the dr. (dr., afterwards sir henry holland.) has said. he has not read much above half, so as he says he can give no definite conclusion, and it is my private belief he wishes to remain in that state... he is evidently in a dreadful state of indecision, and keeps stating that he is not tied down to either view, and that he has always left an escape by the way he has spoken of varieties. i happened to speak of the eye before he had read that part, and it took away his breath--utterly impossible--structure, function, etc., etc., etc., but when he had read it he hummed and hawed, and perhaps it was partly conceivable, and then he fell back on the bones of the ear, which were beyond all probability or conceivability. he mentioned a slight blot, which i also observed, that in speaking of the slave-ants carrying one another, you change the species without giving notice first, and it makes one turn back... ... for myself i really think it is the most interesting book i ever read, and can only compare it to the first knowledge of chemistry, getting into a new world or rather behind the scenes. to me the geographical distribution, i mean the relation of islands to continents, is the most convincing of the proofs, and the relation of the oldest forms to the existing species. i dare say i don't feel enough the absence of varieties, but then i don't in the least know if everything now living were fossilized whether the paleontologists could distinguish them. in fact the a priori reasoning is so entirely satisfactory to me that if the facts won't fit in, why so much the worse for the facts is my feeling. my ague has left me in such a state of torpidity that i wish i had gone through the process of natural selection. yours affectionately, e.a.d. charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley, november [ th, ]. my dear lyell, again i have to thank you for a most valuable lot of criticisms in a letter dated nd. this morning i heard also from murray that he sold the whole edition (first edition, copies.) the first day to the trade. he wants a new edition instantly, and this utterly confounds me. now, under water-cure, with all nervous power directed to the skin, i cannot possibly do head-work, and i must make only actually necessary corrections. but i will, as far as i can without my manuscript, take advantage of your suggestions: i must not attempt much. will you send me one line to say whether i must strike out about the secondary whale (the passage was omitted in the second edition.), it goes to my heart. about the rattle-snake, look to my journal, under trigonocephalus, and you will see the probable origin of the rattle, and generally in transitions it is the premier pas qui coute. madame belloc wants to translate my book into french; i have offered to look over proofs for scientific errors. did you ever hear of her? i believe murray has agreed at my urgent advice, but i fear i have been rash and premature. quatrefages has written to me, saying he agrees largely with my views. he is an excellent naturalist. i am pressed for time. will you give us one line about the whales? again i thank you for neve-tiring advice and assistance; i do in truth reverence your unselfish and pure love of truth. my dear lyell, ever yours, c. darwin. [with regard to a french translation, he wrote to mr. murray in november : "i am extremely anxious, for the subject's sake (and god knows not for mere fame), to have my book translated; and indirectly its being known abroad will do good to the english sale. if it depended on me, i should agree without payment, and instantly send a copy, and only beg that she [mme. belloc] would get some scientific man to look over the translation... you might say that, though i am a very poor french scholar, i could detect any scientific mistake, and would read over the french proofs." the proposed translation was not made, and a second plan fell through in the following year. he wrote to m. de quatrefages: "the gentleman who wished to translate my 'origin of species' has failed in getting a publisher. balliere, masson, and hachette all rejected it with contempt. it was foolish and presumptuous in me, hoping to appear in a french dress; but the idea would not have entered my head had it not been suggested to me. it is a great loss. i must console myself with the german edition which prof. bronn is bringing out." (see letters to bronn, page .) a sentence in another letter to m. de quatrefages shows how anxious he was to convert one of the greatest of contemporary zoologists: "how i should like to know whether milne edwards had read the copy which i sent him, and whether he thinks i have made a pretty good case on our side of the question. there is no naturalist in the world for whose opinion i have so profound a respect. of course i am not so silly as to expect to change his opinion."] charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley, [november th, ]. my dear lyell, i have received your letter of the th. it is no use trying to thank you; your kindness is beyond thanks. i will certainly leave out the whale and bear... the edition was copies. when i was in spirits, i sometimes fancied that my book would be successful, but i never even built a castle in the air of such success as it has met with; i do not mean the sale, but the impression it has made on you (whom i have always looked at as chief judge) and hooker and huxley. the whole has infinitely exceeded my wildest hopes. farewell, i am tired, for i have been going over the sheets. my kind friend, farewell, yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. ilkley, yorkshire, december nd [ ]. my dear lyell, every note which you have sent me has interested me much. pray thank lady lyell for her remark. in the chapters she refers to, i was unable to modify the passage in accordance with your suggestion; but in the final chapter i have modified three or four. kingsley, in a note (the letter is given below) to me, had a capital paragraph on such notions as mine being not opposed to a high conception of the deity. i have inserted it as an extract from a letter to me from a celebrated author and divine. i have put in about nascent organs. i had the greatest difficulty in partially making out sedgwick's letter, and i dare say i did greatly underrate its clearness. do what i could, i fear i shall be greatly abused. in answer to sedgwick's remark that my book would be "mischievous," i asked him whether truth can be known except by being victorious over all attacks. but it is no use. h.c. watson tells me that one zoologist says he will read my book, "but i will never believe it." what a spirit to read any book in! crawford writes to me that his notice (john crawford, orientalist, ethnologist, etc., - . the review appeared in the "examiner", and, though hostile, is free from bigotry, as the following citation will show: "we cannot help saying that piety must be fastidious indeed that objects to a theory the tendency of which is to show that all organic beings, man included, are in a perpetual progress of amelioration, and that is expounded in the reverential language which we have quoted.") will be hostile, but that "he will not calumniate the author." he says he has read my book, "at least such parts as he could understand." he sent me some notes and suggestions (quite unimportant), and they show me that i have unavoidably done harm to the subject, by publishing an abstract. he is a real pallasian; nearly all our domestic races descended from a multitude of wild species now commingled. i expected murchison to be outrageous. how little he could ever have grappled with the subject of denudation! how singular so great a geologist should have so unphilosophical a mind! i have had several notes from --, very civil and less decided. says he shall not pronounce against me without much reflection, perhaps will say nothing on the subject. x. says -- will go to that part of hell, which dante tells us is appointed for those who are neither on god's side nor on that of the devil. i fully believe that i owe the comfort of the next few years of my life to your generous support, and that of a very few others. i do not think i am brave enough to have stood being odious without support; now i feel as bold as a lion. but there is one thing i can see i must learn, viz., to think less of myself and my book. farewell, with cordial thanks. yours most truly, c. darwin. i return home on the th, and shall sleep at erasmus's. i will call on you about ten o'clock, on thursday, the th, and sit with you, as i have so often sat, during your breakfast. i wish there was any chance of prestwich being shaken; but i fear he is too much of a catastrophist. [in december there appeared in 'macmillan's magazine' an article, "time and life," by professor huxley. it is mainly occupied by an analysis of the argument of the 'origin,' but it also gives the substance of a lecture delivered at the royal institution before that book was published. professor huxley spoke strongly in favour of evolution in his lecture, and explains that in so doing he was to a great extent resting on a knowledge of "the general tenor of the researches in which mr. darwin had been so long engaged," and was supported in so doing by his perfect confidence in his knowledge, perseverance, and "high-minded love of truth." my father was evidently deeply pleased by mr. huxley's words, and wrote: "i must thank you for your extremely kind notice of my book in 'macmillan.' no one could receive a more delightful and honourable compliment. i had not heard of your lecture, owing to my retired life. you attribute much too much to me from our mutual friendship. you have explained my leading idea with admirable clearness. what a gift you have of writing (or more properly) thinking clearly."] charles darwin to w.b. carpenter. ilkley, yorkshire, december rd [ ]. my dear carpenter, i am perfectly delighted at your letter. it is a great thing to have got a great physiologist on our side. i say "our" for we are now a good and compact body of really good men, and mostly not old men. in the long run we shall conquer. i do not like being abused, but i feel that i can now bear it; and, as i told lyell, i am well convinced that it is the first offender who reaps the rich harvest of abuse. you have done an essential kindness in checking the odium theologicum in the e.r. (this must refer to carpenter's critique which would now have been ready to appear in the january number of the "edinburgh review", , and in which the odium theologicum is referred to.) it much pains all one's female relations and injures the cause. i look at it as immaterial whether we go quite the same lengths; and i suspect, judging from myself, that you will go further, by thinking of a population of forms like ornithorhyncus, and by thinking of the common homological and embryological structure of the several vertebrate orders. but this is immaterial. i quite agree that the principle is everything. in my fuller ms. i have discussed a good many instincts; but there will surely be more unfilled gaps here than with corporeal structure, for we have no fossil instincts, and know scarcely any except of european animals. when i reflect how very slowly i came round myself, i am in truth astonished at the candour shown by lyell, hooker, huxley, and yourself. in my opinion it is grand. i thank you cordially for taking the trouble of writing a review for the 'national.' god knows i shall have few enough in any degree favourable. (see a letter to dr. carpenter below.) charles darwin to c. lyell. saturday [december th, ]. ... i have had a letter from carpenter this morning. he reviews me in the 'national.' he is a convert, but does not go quite so far as i, but quite far enough, for he admits that all birds are from one progenitor, and probably all fishes and reptiles from another parent. but the last mouthful chokes him. he can hardly admit all vertebrates from one parent. he will surely come to this from homology and embryology. i look at it as grand having brought round a great physiologist, for great i think he certainly is in that line. how curious i shall be to know what line owen will take; dead against us, i fear; but he wrote me a most liberal note on the reception of my book, and said he was quite prepared to consider fairly and without prejudice my line of argument. j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, monday. dear darwin, you have, i know, been drenched with letters since the publication of your book, and i have hence forborne to add my mite. i hope now that you are well through edition ii., and i have heard that you were flourishing in london. i have not yet got half-through the book, not from want of will, but of time--for it is the very hardest book to read, to full profits, that i ever tried--it is so cram-full of matter and reasoning. i am all the more glad that you have published in this form, for the three volumes, unprefaced by this, would have choked any naturalist of the nineteenth century, and certainly have softened my brain in the operation of assimilating their contents. i am perfectly tired of marvelling at the wonderful amount of facts you have brought to bear, and your skill in marshalling them and throwing them on the enemy; it is also extremely clear as far as i have gone, but very hard to fully appreciate. somehow it reads very different from the ms., and i often fancy i must have been very stupid not to have more fully followed it in ms. lyell told me of his criticisms. i did not appreciate them all, and there are many little matters i hope one day to talk over with you. i saw a highly flattering notice in the 'english churchman,' short and not at all entering into discussion, but praising you and your book, and talking patronizingly of the doctrine!... bentham and henslow will still shake their heads i fancy... ever yours affectionately, jos. d. hooker. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, saturday [december th, ]. ... i had very long interviews with --, which perhaps you would like to hear about... i infer from several expressions that, at bottom, he goes an immense way with us... he said to the effect that my explanation was the best ever published of the manner of formation of species. i said i was very glad to hear it. he took me up short: "you must not at all suppose that i agree with you in all respects." i said i thought it no more likely that i should be right in nearly all points, than that i should toss up a penny and get heads twenty times running. i asked him what he thought the weakest part. he said he had no particular objection to any part. he added:-- "if i must criticise, i should say, 'we do not want to know what darwin believes and is convinced of, but what he can prove.'" i agreed most fully and truly that i have probably greatly sinned in this line, and defended my general line of argument of inventing a theory and seeing how many classes of facts the theory would explain. i added that i would endeavour to modify the "believes" and "convinceds." he took me up short: "you will then spoil your book, the charm of (!) it is that it is darwin himself." he added another objection, that the book was too teres atque rotundus--that it explained everything, and that it was improbable in the highest degree that i should succeed in this. i quite agree with this rather queer objection, and it comes to this that my book must be very bad or very good... i have heard, by roundabout channel, that herschel says my book "is the law of higgledy-piggledy." what this exactly means i do not know, but it is evidently very contemptuous. if true this is a great blow and discouragement. charles darwin to john lubbock. december th [ ]. ... the latter part of my stay at ilkley did me much good, but i suppose i never shall be strong, for the work i have had since i came back has knocked me up a little more than once. i have been busy in getting a reprint (with a very few corrections) through the press. my book has been as yet very much more successful than i ever dreamed of: murray is now printing copies. have you finished it? if so, pray tell me whether you are with me on the general issue, or against me. if you are against me, i know well how honourable, fair, and candid an opponent i shall have, and which is a good deal more than i can say of all my opponents... pray tell me what you have been doing. have you had time for any natural history?... p.s.--i have got--i wish and hope i might say that we have got--a fair number of excellent men on our side of the question on the mutability of species. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. my dear hooker, your approval of my book, for many reasons, gives me intense satisfaction; but i must make some allowance for your kindness and sympathy. any one with ordinary faculties, if he had patience enough and plenty of time, could have written my book. you do not know how i admire your and lyell's generous and unselfish sympathy, i do not believe either of you would have cared so much about your own work. my book, as yet, has been far more successful than i ever even formerly ventured in the wildest day-dreams to anticipate. we shall soon be a good body of working men, and shall have, i am convinced, all young and rising naturalists on our side. i shall be intensely interested to hear whether my book produces any effect on a. gray; from what i heard at lyell's, i fancy your correspondence has brought him some way already. i fear that there is no chance of bentham being staggered. will he read my book? has he a copy? i would send him one of the reprints if he has not. old j.e. gray (john edward gray ( - ), was the son of s.f. gray, author of the 'supplement to the pharmacopoeia.' in he published in his father's name 'the natural arrangement of british plants,' one of the earliest works in english on the natural method. in he became connected with the natural history department of the british museum, and was appointed keeper of the zoological collections in . he was the author of 'illustrations of indian zoology,' 'the knowsley menagerie,' etc., and of innumerable descriptive zoological papers.), at the british museum, attacked me in fine style: "you have just reproduced lamarck's doctrine and nothing else, and here lyell and others have been attacking him for twenty years, and because you (with a sneer and laugh) say the very same thing, they are all coming round; it is the most ridiculous inconsistency, etc., etc." you must be very glad to be settled in your house, and i hope all the improvements satisfy you. as far as my experience goes, improvements are never perfection. i am very sorry to hear that you are still so very busy, and have so much work. and now for the main purport of my note, which is to ask and beg you and mrs. hooker (whom it is really an age since i have seen), and all your children, if you like, to come and spend a week here. it would be a great pleasure to me and to my wife... as far as we can see, we shall be at home all the winter; and all times probably would be equally convenient; but if you can, do not put it off very late, as it may slip through. think of this and persuade mrs. hooker, and be a good man and come. farewell, my kind and dear friend, yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--i shall be very curious to hear what you think of my discussion on classification in chapter xiii.; i believe huxley demurs to the whole, and says he has nailed his colours to the mast, and i would sooner die than give up; so that we are in as fine a frame of mind to discuss the point as any two religionists. embryology is my pet bit in my book, and, confound my friends, not one has noticed this to me. charles darwin to asa gray. down, december st [ ]. my dear gray, i have just received your most kind, long, and valuable letter. i will write again in a few days, for i am at present unwell and much pressed with business: to-day's note is merely personal. i should, for several reasons, be very glad of an american edition. i have made up my mind to be well abused; but i think it of importance that my notions should be read by intelligent men, accustomed to scientific argument, though not naturalists. it may seem absurd, but i think such men will drag after them those naturalists who have too firmly fixed in their heads that a species is an entity. the first edition of copies was sold on the first day, and now my publisher is printing off, as rapidly as possible, more copies. i mention this solely because it renders probable a remunerative sale in america. i should be infinitely obliged if you could aid an american reprint; and could make, for my sake and the publisher's, any arrangement for any profit. the new edition is only a reprint, yet i have made a few important corrections. i will have the clean sheets sent over in a few days of as many sheets as are printed off, and the remainder afterwards, and you can do anything you like,--if nothing, there is no harm done. i should be glad for the new edition to be reprinted and not the old.--in great haste, and with hearty thanks, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. i will write soon again. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, nd [december, ]. my dear lyell, thanks about "bears" (see 'origin,' edition i., page .), a word of il-omen to me. i am too unwell to leave home, so shall not see you. i am very glad of your remarks on hooker. (sir c. lyell wrote to sir j.d. hooker, december , ('life,' ii. page ): "i have just finished the reading of your splendid essay [the 'flora of australia'] on the origin of species, as illustrated by your wide botanical experience, and think it goes very far to raise the variety-making hypothesis to the rank of a theory, as accounting for the manner in which new species enter the world.") i have not yet got the essay. the parts which i read in sheets seemed to me grand, especially the generalization about the australian flora itself. how superior to robert brown's celebrated essay! i have not seen naudin's paper ('revue horticole,' . see historical sketch in the later editions of the 'origin of species.'), and shall not be able till i hunt the libraries. i am very anxious to see it. decaisne seems to think he gives my whole theory. i do not know when i shall have time and strength to grapple with hooker... p.s.--i have heard from sir w. jardine (jardine, sir william, bart., - ), was the son of sir a. jardine of applegarth, dumfriesshire. he was educated at edinburgh, and succeeded to the title on his father's decease in . he published, jointly with mr. prideaux, j. selby, sir stamford raffles, dr. horsfield, and other ornithologists, 'illustrations of ornithology,' and edited the 'naturalist's library,' in volumes, which included the four branches: mammalia, ornithology, ichnology, and entomology. of these volumes were written by himself. in he became editor of the 'magazine of zoology and botany,' which, two years later, was transformed into 'annals of natural history,' but remained under his direction. for bohn's standard library he edited white's 'natural history of selborne.' sir w. jardine was also joint editor of the 'edinburgh philosophical journal,' and was author of 'british salmonidae,' 'ichthyology of annandale,' 'memoirs of the late hugh strickland,' 'contributions to ornithology,' 'ornithological synonyms,' etc.--(taken from ward, 'men of the reign,' and cates, 'dictionary of general biography.'): his criticisms are quite unimportant; some of the galapagos so-called species ought to be called varieties, which i fully expected; some of the sub-genera, thought to be wholly endemic, have been found on the continent (not that he gives his authority), but i do not make out that the species are the same. his letter is brief and vague, but he says he will write again. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [ rd december, ]. my dear hooker, i received last night your 'introduction,' for which very many thanks; i am surprised to see how big it is: i shall not be able to read it very soon. it was very good of you to send naudin, for i was very curious to see it. i am surprised that decaisne should say it was the same as mine. naudin gives artificial selection, as well as a score of english writers, and when he says species were formed in the same manner, i thought the paper would certainly prove exactly the same as mine. but i cannot find one word like the struggle for existence and natural selection. on the contrary, he brings in his principle (page ) of finality (which i do not understand), which, he says, with some authors is fatality, with others providence, and which adapts the forms of every being, and harmonises them all throughout nature. he assumes like old geologists (who assumed that the forces of nature were formerly greater), that species were at first more plastic. his simile of tree and classification is like mine (and others), but he cannot, i think, have reflected much on the subject, otherwise he would see that genealogy by itself does not give classification; i declare i cannot see a much closer approach to wallace and me in naudin than in lamarck--we all agree in modification and descent. if i do not hear from you i will return the 'revue' in a few days (with the cover). i dare say lyell would be glad to see it. by the way, i will retain the volume till i hear whether i shall or not send it to lyell. i should rather like lyell to see this note, though it is foolish work sticking up for independence or priority. ever yours, c. darwin. a. sedgwick (rev. adam sedgwick, - , woodwardian professor of geology in the university of cambridge.) to charles darwin. cambridge, december th, [ ]. my dear darwin, i write to thank you for your work on the 'origin of species.' it came, i think, in the latter part of last week; but it may have come a few days sooner, and been overlooked among my book-parcels, which often remain unopened when i am lazy or busy with any work before me. so soon as i opened it i began to read it, and i finished it, after many interruptions, on tuesday. yesterday i was employed-- st, in preparing for my lecture; ndly, in attending a meeting of my brother fellows to discuss the final propositions of the parliamentary commissioners; rdly, in lecturing; thly, in hearing the conclusion of the discussion and the college reply, whereby, in conformity with my own wishes, we accepted the scheme of the commissioners; thly, in dining with an old friend at clare college; thly, in adjourning to the weekly meeting of the ray club, from which i returned at p.m., dog-tired, and hardly able to climb my staircase. lastly, in looking through the "times" to see what was going on in the busy world. i do not state this to fill space (though i believe that nature does abhor a vacuum), but to prove that my reply and my thanks are sent to you by the earliest leisure i have, though that is but a very contracted opportunity. if i did not think you a good-tempered and truth-loving man, i should not tell you that (spite of the great knowledge, store of facts, capital views of the correlation of the various parts of organic nature, admirable hints about the diffusion, through wide regions of many related organic beings, etc., etc.) i have read your book with more pain than pleasure. parts of it i admired greatly, parts i laughed at till my sides were almost sore; other parts i read with absolute sorrow, because i think them utterly false and grievously mischievous. you have deserted--after a start in that tra-road of all solid physical truth--the true method of induction, and started us in machinery as wild, i think, as bishop wilkins's locomotive that was to sail with us to the moon. many of your wide conclusions are based upon assumptions which can neither be proved nor disproved, why then express them in the language and arrangement of philosophical induction? as to your grand principle--natural selection--what is it but a secondary consequence of supposed, or known, primary facts! development is a better word, because more close to the cause of the fact? for you do not deny causation. i call (in the abstract) causation the will of god; and i can prove that he acts for the good of his creatures. he also acts by laws which we can study and comprehend. acting by law, and under what is called final causes, comprehends, i think, your whole principle. you write of "natural selection" as if it were done curiously by the selecting agent. 'tis but a consequence of the presupposed development, and the subsequent battle for life. this view of nature you have stated admirably, though admitted by all naturalists and denied by no one of common sense. we all admit development as a fact of history: but how came it about? here, in language, and still more in logic, we are point-blank at issue. there is a moral or metaphysical part of nature as well a physical. a man who denies this is deep in the mire of folly. 'tis the crown and glory of organic science that it does through final cause, link material and moral; and yet does not allow us to mingle them in our first conception of laws, and our classification of such laws, whether we consider one side of nature or the other. you have ignored this link; and, if i do not mistake your meaning, you have done your best in one or two pregnant cases to break it. were it possible (which, thank god, it is not) to break it, humanity, in my mind, would suffer a damage that might brutalize it, and sink the human race into a lower grade of degradation than any into which it has fallen since its written records tell us of its history. take the case of the bee-cells. if your development produced the successive modification of the bee and its cells (which no mortal can prove), final cause would stand good as the directing cause under which the successive generations acted and gradually improved. passages in your book, like that to which i have alluded (and there are others almost as bad), greatly shocked my moral taste. i think, in speculating on organic descent, you over-state the evidence of geology; and that you under-state it while you are talking of the broken links of your natural pedigree: but my paper is nearly done, and i must go to my lecture-room. lastly, then, i greatly dislike the concluding chapter--not as a summary, for in that light it appears good--but i dislike it from the tone of triumphant confidence in which you appeal to the rising generation (in a tone i condemned in the author of the 'vestiges') and prophesy of things not yet in the womb of time, nor (if we are to trust the accumulated experience of human sense and the inferences of its logic) ever likely to be found anywhere but in the fertile womb of man's imagination. and now to say a word about a son of a monkey and an old friend of yours: i am better, far better, than i was last year. i have been lecturing three days a week (formerly i gave six a week) without much fatigue, but i find by the loss of activity and memory, and of all productive powers, that my bodily frame is sinking slowly towards the earth. but i have visions of the future. they are as much a part of myself as my stomach and my heart, and these visions are to have their antitype in solid fruition of what is best and greatest. but on one condition only--that i humbly accept god's revelation of himself both in his works and in his word, and do my best to act in conformity with that knowledge which he only can give me, and he only can sustain me in doing. if you and i do all this we shall meet in heaven. i have written in a hurry, and in a spirit of brotherly love, therefore forgive any sentence you happen to dislike; and believe me, spite of any disagreement in some points of the deepest moral interest, your tru-hearted old friend, a. sedgwick. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. my dear huxley, one part of your note has pleased me so much that i must thank you for it. not only sir h.h. [holland], but several others, have attacked me about analogy leading to belief in one primordial created form. ('origin,' edition i. page .--"therefore i should infer from analogy that probably all the organic beings which have ever lived on this earth have descended from some one primordial form, into which life was first breathed.") (by which i mean only that we know nothing as yet [of] how life originates.) i thought i was universally condemned on this head. but i answered that though perhaps it would have been more prudent not to have put it in, i would not strike it out, as it seemed to me probable, and i give it on no other grounds. you will see in your mind the kind of arguments which made me think it probable, and no one fact had so great an effect on me as your most curious remarks on the apparent homologies of the head of vertebrata and articulata. you have done a real good turn in the agency business ("my general agent" was a sobriquet applied at this time by my father to mr. huxley.) (i never before heard of a hard-working, unpaid agent besides yourself), in talking with sir h.h., for he will have great influence over many. he floored me from my ignorance about the bones of the ear, and i made a mental note to ask you what the facts were. with hearty thanks and real admiration for your generous zeal for the subject. yours most truly, c. darwin. you may smile about the care and precautions i have taken about my ugly ms. (manuscript left with mr. huxley for his perusal.); it is not so much the value i set on them, but the remembrance of the intolerable labour--for instance, in tracing the history of the breeds of pigeons. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, th [december, ]. ... i shall not write to decaisne (with regard to naudin's paper in the 'revue horticole,' .); i have always had a strong feeling that no one had better defend his own priority. i cannot say that i am as indifferent to the subject as i ought to be, but one can avoid doing anything in consequence. i do not believe one iota about your having assimilated any of my notions unconsciously. you have always done me more than justice. but i do think i did you a bad turn by getting you to read the old ms., as it must have checked your own original thoughts. there is one thing i am fully convinced of, that the future progress (which is the really important point) of the subject will have depended on really good and well-known workers, like yourself, lyell, and huxley, having taken up the subject, than on my own work. i see plainly it is this that strikes my no-scientific friends. last night i said to myself, i would just cut your introduction, but would not begin to read, but i broke down, and had a good hour's read. farewell, yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. december th, . ... have you seen the splendid essay and notice of my book in the "times"? (december th.) i cannot avoid a strong suspicion that it is by huxley; but i never heard that he wrote in the "times". it will do grand service,... c. darwin to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. my dear huxley, yesterday evening, when i read the "times" of a previous day, i was amazed to find a splendid essay and review of me. who can the author be? i am intensely curious. it included an eulogium of me which quite touched me, though i am not vain enough to think it all deserved. the author is a literary man, and german scholar. he has read my book very attentively; but, what is very remarkable, it seems that he is a profound naturalist. he knows my barnacle-book, and appreciates it too highly. lastly, he writes and thinks with quite uncommon force and clearness; and what is even still rarer, his writing is seasoned with most pleasant wit. we all laughed heartily over some of the sentences. i was charmed with those unreasonable mortals, who know anything, all thinking fit to range themselves on one side. (the reviewer proposes to pass by the orthodox view, according to which the phenomena of the organic world are "the immediate product of a creative fiat, and consequently are out of the domain of science altogether." and he does so "with less hesitation, as it so happens that those persons who are practically conversant with the facts of the case (plainly a considerable advantage) have always thought fit to range themselves" in the category of those holding "views which profess to rest on a scientific basis only, and therefore admit of being argued to their consequences.") who can it be? certainly i should have said that there was only one man in england who could have written this essay, and that you were the man. but i suppose i am wrong, and that there is some hidden genius of great calibre. for how could you influence jupiter olympius and make him give three and a half columns to pure science? the old fogies will think the world will come to an end. well, whoever the man is, he has done great service to the cause, far more than by a dozen reviews in common periodicals. the grand way he soars above common religious prejudices, and the admission of such views into the "times", i look at as of the highest importance, quite independently of the mere question of species. if you should happen to be acquainted with the author, for heaven-sake tell me who he is? my dear huxley, yours most sincerely, c. darwin. [it is impossible to give in a short space an adequate idea of mr. huxley's article in the "times" of december . it is admirably planned, so as to claim for the 'origin' a respectful hearing, and it abstains from anything like dogmatism in asserting the truth of the doctrines therein upheld. a few passages may be quoted:--"that this most ingenious hypothesis enables us to give a reason for many apparent anomalies in the distribution of living beings in time and space, and that it is not contradicted by the main phenomena of life and organisation, appear to us to be unquestionable." mr. huxley goes on to recommend to the readers of the 'origin' a condition of "thatige skepsis"--a state of "doubt which so loves truth that it neither dares rest in doubting, nor extinguish itself by unjustified belief." the final paragraph is in a strong contrast to professor sedgwick and his "ropes of bubbles" (see below). mr. huxley writes: "mr. darwin abhors mere speculation as nature abhors a vacuum. he is as greedy of cases and precedents as any constitutional lawyer, and all the principles he lays down are capable of being brought to the test of observation and experiment. the path he bids us follow professes to be not a mere airy track, fabricated of ideal cobwebs, but a solid and broad bridge of facts. if it be so, it will carry us safely over many a chasm in our knowledge, and lead us to a region free from the snares of those fascinating but barren virgins, the final causes, against whom a high authority has so justly warned us." there can be no doubt that this powerful essay, appearing as it did in the leading daily journal, must have had a strong influence on the reading public. mr. huxley allows me to quote from a letter an account of the happy chance that threw into his hands the opportunity of writing it. "the 'origin' was sent to mr. lucas, one of the staff of the "times" writers at that day, in what i suppose was the ordinary course of business. mr. lucas, though an excellent journalist, and, at a later period, editor of 'once a week,' was as innocent of any knowledge of science as a babe, and bewailed himself to an acquaintance on having to deal with such a book. whereupon he was recommended to ask me to get him out of his difficulty, and he applied to me accordingly, explaining, however, that it would be necessary for him formally to adopt anything i might be disposed to write, by prefacing it with two or three paragraphs of his own. "i was too anxious to seize upon the opportunity thus offered of giving the book a fair chance with the multitudinous readers of the "times" to make any difficulty about conditions; and being then very full of the subject, i wrote the article faster, i think, than i ever wrote anything in my life, and sent it to mr. lucas, who duly prefixed his opening sentences. "when the article appeared, there was much speculation as to its authorship. the secret leaked out in time, as all secrets will, but not by my aid; and then i used to derive a good deal of innocent amusement from the vehement assertions of some of my more acute friends, that they knew it was mine from the first paragraph! "as the "times" some years since, referred to my connection with the review, i suppose there will be no breach of confidence in the publication of this little history, if you think it worth the space it will occupy."] chapter .ii. -- the 'origin of species' (continued). . [i extract a few entries from my father's diary:-- "january th. the second edition, copies, of 'origin' was published." "may nd. the first edition of 'origin' in the united states was copies." my father has here noted down the sums received for the 'origin.' first edition...... pounds second edition..... pounds shillings pence total.............. pounds shillings pence. after the publication of the second edition he began at once, on january th, looking over his materials for the 'variation of animals and plants;' the only other work of the year was on drosera. he was at down during the whole of this year, except for a visit to dr. lane's water-cure establishment at sudbrooke, and in june, and for visits to miss elizabeth wedgwood's house at hartfield, in sussex (july), and to eastbourne, september to november .] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, january rd [ ]. my dear hooker, i have finished your essay. ('australian flora.') as probably you would like to hear my opinion, though a non-botanist, i will give it without any exaggeration. to my judgment it is by far the grandest and most interesting essay, on subjects of the nature discussed, i have ever read. you know how i admired your former essays, but this seems to me far grander. i like all the part after page xxvi better than the first part, probably because newer to me. i dare say you will demur to this, for i think every author likes the most speculative parts of his own productions. how superior your essay is to the famous one of brown (here will be sneer st from you). you have made all your conclusions so admirably clear, that it would be no use at all to be a botanist (sneer no. ). by jove, it would do harm to affix any idea to the long names of outlandish orders. one can look at your conclusions with the philosophic abstraction with which a mathematician looks at his a times x + the square root of z squared, etc. etc. i hardly know which parts have interested me most; for over and over again i exclaimed, "this beats all." the general comparison of the flora of australia with the rest of the world, strikes me (as before) as extremely original, good, and suggestive of many reflections. ... the invading indian flora is very interesting, but i think the fact you mention towards the close of the essay--that the indian vegetation, in contradistinction to the malayan vegetation, is found in low and level parts of the malay islands, greatly lessens the difficulty which at first (page ) seemed so great. there is nothing like one's own hobby-horse. i suspect it is the same case as of glacial migration, and of naturalised production--of production of greater area conquering those of lesser; of course the indian forms would have a greater difficulty in seizing on the cool parts of australia. i demur to your remarks (page ), as not "conceiving anything in soil, climate, or vegetation of india," which could stop the introduction of australian plants. towards the close of the essay (page civ), you have admirable remarks on our profound ignorance of the cause of possible naturalisation or introduction; i would answer page , by a later page, viz. page civ. your contrast of the south-west and south-east corners is one of the most wonderful cases i ever heard of... you show the case with wonderful force. your discussion on mixed invaders of the south-east corner (and of new zealand) is as curious and intricate a problem as of the races of men in britain. your remark on mixed invading flora keeping down or destroying an original flora, which was richer in number of species, strikes me as eminently new and important. i am not sure whether to me the discussion on the new zealand flora is not even more instructive. i cannot too much admire both. but it will require a long time to suck in all the facts. your case of the largest australian orders having none, or very few, species in new zealand, is truly marvellous. anyhow, you have now demonstrated (together with no mammals in new zealand) (bitter sneer no. ), that new zealand has never been continuously, or even nearly continuously, united by land to australia!! at page lxxxix, is the only sentence (on this subject) in the whole essay at which i am much inclined to quarrel, viz. that no theory of trans-oceanic migration can explain, etc. etc. now i maintain against all the world, that no man knows anything about the power of trans-oceanic migration. you do not know whether or not the absent orders have seeds which are killed by sea-water, like almost all leguminosae, and like another order which i forget. birds do not migrate from australia to new zealand, and therefore floatation seems the only possible means; but yet i maintain that we do not know enough to argue on the question, especially as we do not know the main fact whether the seeds of australian orders are killed by sea-water. the discussion on european genera is profoundly interesting; but here alone i earnestly beg for more information, viz. to know which of these genera are absent in the tropics of the world, i.e. confined to temperate regions. i excessively wish to know, on the notion of glacial migration, how much modification has taken place in australia. i had better explain when we meet, and get you to go over and mark the list. ... the list of naturalised plants is extremely interesting, but why at the end, in the name of all that is good and bad, do you not sum up and comment on your facts? come, i will have a sneer at you in return for the many which you will have launched at this letter. should you have remarked on the number of plants naturalised in australia and the united states under extremely different climates, as showing that climate is so important, and [on] the considerable sprinkling of plants from india, north america, and south africa, as showing that the frequent introduction of seeds is so important? with respect to "abundance of unoccupied ground in australia," do you believe that european plants introduced by man now grow on spots in australia which were absolutely bare? but i am an impudent dog, one must defend one's own fancy theories against such cruel men as you. i dare say this letter will appear very conceited, but one must form an opinion on what one reads with attention, and in simple truth, i cannot find words strong enough to express my admiration of your essay. my dear old friend, yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--i differ about the "saturday review". ("saturday review", december , . the hostile arguments of the reviewer are geological, and he deals especially with the denudation of the weald. the reviewer remarks that, "if a million of centuries, more or less, is needed for any part of his argument, he feels no scruple in taking them to suit his purpose.") one cannot expect fairness in a reviewer, so i do not complain of all the other arguments besides the 'geological record' being omitted. some of the remarks about the lapse of years are very good, and the reviewer gives me some good and well-deserved raps--confound it. i am sorry to confess the truth: but it does not at all concern the main argument. that was a nice notice in the "gardeners' chronicle". i hope and imagine that lindley is almost a convert. do not forget to tell me if bentham gets all the more staggered. with respect to tropical plants during the glacial period, i throw in your teeth your own facts, at the base of the himalaya, on the possibility of the co-existence of at least forms of the tropical and temperate regions. i can give a parallel case for animals in mexico. oh! my dearly beloved puny child, how cruel men are to you! i am very glad you approve of the geographical chapters... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, [january th, ]. my dear l. "gardeners' chronicle" returned safe. thanks for note. i am beyond measure glad that you get more and more roused on the subject of species, for, as i have always said, i am well convinced that your opinions and writings will do far more to convince the world than mine. you will make a grand discussion on man. you are very bold in this, and i honour you. i have been, like you, quite surprised at the want of originality in opposed arguments and in favour too. gwyn jeffreys attacks me justly in his letter about strictly littoral shells not being often embedded at least in tertiary deposits. i was in a muddle, for i was thinking of secondary, yet chthamalus applied to tertiary... possibly you might like to see the enclosed note (dr. whewell wrote (january , ): "... i cannot, yet at least, become a convert. but there is so much of thought and of fact in what you have written that it is not to be contradicted without careful selection of the ground and manner of the dissent." dr. whewell dissented in a practical manner for some years, by refusing to allow a copy of the 'origin of species' to be placed in the library of trinity college.) from whewell, merely as showing that he is not horrified with us. you can return it whenever you have occasion to write, so as not to waste your time. c.d. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, [january th? ]. ... i have had a brief note from keyserling (joint author with murchison of the 'geology of russia,' .), but not worth sending you. he believes in change of species, grants that natural selection explains well adaptation of form, but thinks species change too regularly, as if by some chemical law, for natural selection to be the sole cause of change. i can hardly understand his brief note, but this is i think the upshot. ... i will send a. murray's paper whenever published. (the late andrew murray wrote two papers on the 'origin' in the proc. r. soc. edin. . the one referred to here is dated january , . the following is quoted from page of the separate copy: "but the second, and, as it appears to me, by much the most important phase of reversion to type (and which is practically, if not altogether ignored by mr. darwin), is the instinctive inclination which induces individuals of the same species by preference to intercross with those possessing the qualities which they themselves want, so as to preserve the purity or equilibrium of the breed... it is trite to a proverb, that tall men marry little women... a man of genius marries a fool... and we are told that this is the result of the charm of contrast, or of qualities admired in others because we do not possess them. i do not so explain it. i imagine it is the effort of nature to preserve the typical medium of the race.") it includes speculations (which he perhaps will modify) so rash, and without a single fact in support, that had i advanced them he or other reviewers would have hit me very hard. i am sorry to say that i have no "consolatory view" on the dignity of man. i am content that man will probably advance, and care not much whether we are looked at as mere savages in a remotely distant future. many thanks for your last note. yours affectionately, c. darwin. i have received, in a manchester newspaper, rather a good squib, showing that i have proved "might is right," and therefore that napoleon is right, and every cheating tradesman is also right. charles darwin to w.b. carpenter. down, january th [ ]? my dear carpenter, i have just read your excellent article in the 'national.' it will do great good; especially if it becomes known as your production. it seems to me to give an excellently clear account of mr. wallace's and my views. how capitally you turn the flanks of the theological opposers by opposing to them such men as bentham and the more philosophical of the systematists! i thank you sincerely for the extremely honourable manner in which you mention me. i should have liked to have seen some criticisms or remarks on embryology, on which subject you are so well instructed. i do not think any candid person can read your article without being much impressed with it. the old doctrine of immutability of specific forms will surely but slowly die away. it is a shame to give you trouble, but i should be very much obliged if you could tell me where differently coloured eggs in individuals of the cuckoo have been described, and their laying in twent-seven kinds of nests. also do you know from your own observation that the limbs of sheep imported into the west indies change colour? i have had detailed information about the loss of wool; but my accounts made the change slower than you describe. with most cordial thanks and respect, believe me, my dear carpenter, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to l. jenyns. (rev. l. blomefield.) down, january th, . my dear jenyns, i am very much obliged for your letter. it is of great use and interest to me to know what impression my book produces on philosophical and instructed minds. i thank you for the kind things which you say; and you go with me much further than i expected. you will think it presumptuous, but i am convinced, if circumstances lead you to keep the subject in mind, that you will go further. no one has yet cast doubts on my explanation of the subordination of group to group, on homologies, embryology, and rudimentary organs; and if my explanation of these classes of facts be at all right, whole classes of organic beings must be included in one line of descent. the imperfection of the geological record is one of the greatest difficulties... during the earliest period the record would be most imperfect, and this seems to me sufficient to account for our not finding intermediate forms between the classes in the same great kingdoms. it was certainly rash in me putting in my belief of the probability of all beings having descended from one primordial form; but as this seems yet to me probable, i am not willing to strike it out. huxley alone supports me in this, and something could be said in its favour. with respect to man, i am very far from wishing to obtrude my belief; but i thought it dishonest to quite conceal my opinion. of course it is open to every one to believe that man appeared by a separate miracle, though i do not myself see the necessity or probability. pray accept my sincere thanks for your kind note. your going some way with me gives me great confidence that i am not very wrong. for a very long time i halted half way; but i do not believe that any enquiring mind will rest half-way. people will have to reject all or admit all; by all i mean only the members of each great kingdom. my dear jenyns, yours most sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, january th [ ]. ... it is perfectly true that i owe nearly all the corrections (the second edition of copies of the 'origin' was published on january th.) to you, and several verbal ones to you and others; i am heartily glad you approve of them, as yet only two things have annoyed me; those confounded millions (this refers to the passage in the 'origin of species' ( nd edition, page ), in which the lapse of time implied by the denudation of the weald is discussed. the discussion closes with the sentence: "so that it is not improbable that a longer period than million years has elapsed since the latter part of the secondary period." this passage is omitted in the later editions of the 'origin,' against the advice of some of his friends, as appears from the pencil notes in my father's copy of the second edition.) of years (not that i think it is probably wrong), and my not having (by inadvertance) mentioned wallace towards the close of the book in the summary, not that any one has noticed this to me. i have now put in wallace's name at page in a conspicuous place. i cannot refer you to tables of mortality of children, etc. etc. i have notes somewhere, but i have not the least idea where to hunt, and my notes would now be old. i shall be truly glad to read carefully any ms. on man, and give my opinion. you used to caution me to be cautious about man. i suspect i shall have to return the caution a hundred fold! yours will, no doubt, be a grand discussion; but it will horrify the world at first more than my whole volume; although by the sentence (page , new edition (first edition, page .)) i show that i believe man is in the same predicament with other animals. it is, in fact, impossible to doubt it. i have thought (only vaguely) on man. with respect to the races, one of my best chances of truth has broken down from the impossibility of getting facts. i have one good speculative line, but a man must have entire credence in natural selection before he will even listen to it. psychologically, i have done scarcely anything. unless, indeed, expression of countenance can be included, and on that subject i have collected a good many facts, and speculated, but i do not suppose i shall ever publish, but it is an uncommonly curious subject. by the way, i sent off a lot of questions the day before yesterday to tierra del fuego on expression! i suspect (for i have never read it) that spencer's 'psychology' has a bearing on psychology as we should look at it. by all means read the preface, in about pages, of hensleigh wedgwood's new dictionary on the first origin of language; erasmus would lend it. i agree about carpenter, a very good article, but with not much original... andrew murray has criticised, in an address to the botanical society of edinburgh, the notice in the 'linnean journal,' and "has disposed of" the whole theory by an ingenious difficulty, which i was very stupid not to have thought of; for i express surprise at more and analogous cases not being known. the difficulty is, that amongst the blind insects of the caves in distant parts of the world there are some of the same genus, and yet the genus is not found out of the caves or living in the free world. i have little doubt that, like the fish amblyopsis, and like proteus in europe, these insects are "wrecks of ancient life," or "living fossils," saved from competition and extermination. but that formerly seeing insects of the same genus roamed over the whole area in which the cases are included. farewell, yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--our ancestor was an animal which breathed water, had a swim bladder, a great swimming tail, an imperfect skull, and undoubtedly was an hermaphrodite! here is a pleasant genealogy for mankind. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, january th [ ]. ... i shall be much interested in reading your man discussion, and will give my opinion carefully, whatever that may be worth; but i have so long looked at you as the type of cautious scientific judgment (to my mind one of the highest and most useful qualities), that i suspect my opinion will be superfluous. it makes me laugh to think what a joke it will be if i have to caution you, after your cautions on the same subject to me! i will order owen's book ('classification of the mammalia,' .); i am very glad to hear huxley's opinion on his classification of man; without having due knowledge, it seemed to me from the very first absurd; all classifications founded on single characters i believe have failed. ... what a grand, immense benefit you conferred on me by getting murray to publish my book. i never till to-day realised that it was getting widely distributed; for in a letter from a lady to-day to e., she says she heard a man enquiring for it at the railway station!!! at waterloo bridge; and the bookseller said that he had none till the new edition was out. the bookseller said he had not read it, but had heard it was a very remarkable book!!!... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, th [january, ]. ... i heard from lyell this morning, and he tells me a piece of news. you are a good-for-nothing man; here you are slaving yourself to death with hardly a minute to spare, and you must write a review of my book! i thought it ('gardeners' chronicle', . referred to above. sir j.d. hooker took the line of complete impartiality, so as not to commit lindley.) a very good one, and was so much struck with it that i sent it to lyell. but i assumed, as a matter of course, that it was lindley's. now that i know it is yours, i have re-read it, and, my kind and good friend, it has warmed my heart with all the honourable and noble things you say of me and it. i was a good deal surprised at lindley hitting on some of the remarks, but i never dreamed of you. i admired it chiefly as so well adapted to tell on the readers of the 'gardeners' chronicle'; but now i admired it in another spirit. farewell, with hearty thanks... lyell is going at man with an audacity that frightens me. it is a good joke; he used always to caution me to slip over man. [in the "gardeners' chronicle", january , , appeared a short letter from my father which was called forth by mr. westwood's communication to the previous number of the journal, in which certain phenomena of cros-breeding are discussed in relation to the 'origin of species.' mr. westwood wrote in reply (february ) and adduced further evidence against the doctrine of descent, such as the identity of the figures of ostriches on the ancient "egyptian records," with the bird as we now know it. the correspondence is hardly worth mentioning, except as one of the very few cases in which my father was enticed into anything resembling a controversy.] asa gray to j.d. hooker. cambridge, mass., january th, . my dear hooker, your last letter, which reached me just before christmas, has got mislaid during the upturnings in my study which take place at that season, and has not yet been discovered. i should be very sorry to lose it, for there were in it some botanical mems. which i had not secured... the principal part of your letter was high laudation of darwin's book. well, the book has reached me, and i finished its careful perusal four days ago; and i freely say that your laudation is not out of place. it is done in a masterly manner. it might well have taken twenty years to produce it. it is crammed full of most interesting matter--thoroughly digested--well expressed--close, cogent, and taken as a system it makes out a better case than i had supposed possible... agassiz, when i saw him last, had read but a part of it. he says it is poor--very poor!! (entre nous). the fact [is] he is very much annoyed by it,... and i do not wonder at it. to bring all ideal systems within the domain of science, and give good physical or natural explanations of all his capital points, is as bad as to have forbes take the glacier materials... and give scientific explanation of all the phenomena. tell darwin all this. i will write to him when i get a chance. as i have promised, he and you shall have fair-play here... i must myself write a review of darwin's book for 'silliman's journal' (the more so that i suspect agassiz means to come out upon it) for the next (march) no., and i am now setting about it (when i ought to be every moment working the expl[oring] expedition compositae, which i know far more about). and really it is no easy job, as you may well imagine. i doubt if i shall please you altogether. i know i shall not please agassiz at all. i hear another reprint is in the press, and the book will excite much attention here, and some controversy... charles darwin to asa gray. down, january th [ ]. my dear gray, hooker has forwarded to me your letter to him; and i cannot express how deeply it has gratified me. to receive the approval of a man whom one has long sincerely respected. and whose judgment and knowledge are most universally admitted, is the highest reward an author can possibly wish for; and i thank you heartily for your most kind expressions. i have been absent from home for a few days, and so could not earlier answer your letter to me of the th of january. you have been extremely kind to take so much trouble and interest about the edition. it has been a mistake of my publisher not thinking of sending over the sheets. i had entirely and utterly forgotten your offer of receiving the sheets as printed off. but i must not blame my publisher, for had i remembered your most kind offer i feel pretty sure i should not have taken advantage of it; for i never dreamed of my book being so successful with general readers; i believe i should have laughed at the idea of sending the sheets to america. (in a letter to mr. murray, , my father wrote:--"i am amused by asa gray's account of the excitement my book has made amongst naturalists in the united states. agassiz has denounced it in a newspaper, but yet in such terms that it is in fact a fine advertisement!" this seems to refer to a lecture given before the mercantile library association.) after much consideration, and on the strong advice of lyell and others, i have resolved to leave the present book as it is (excepting correcting errors, or here and there inserting short sentences) and to use all my strength, which is but little, to bring out the first part (forming a separate volume with index, etc.) of the three volumes which will make my bigger work; so that i am very unwilling to take up time in making corrections for an american edition. i enclose a list of a few corrections in the second reprint, which you will have received by this time complete, and i could send four or five corrections or additions of equally small importance, or rather of equal brevity. i also intend to write a short preface with a brief history of the subject. these i will set about, as they must some day be done, and i will send them to you in a short time--the few corrections first, and the preface afterwards, unless i hear that you have given up all idea of a separate edition. you will then be able to judge whether it is worth having the new edition with your review prefixed. whatever be the nature of your review, i assure you i should feel it a great honour to have my book thus preceded... asa gray to charles darwin. cambridge, january rd, . my dear darwin, you have my hurried letter telling you of the arrival of the remainder of the sheets of the reprint, and of the stir i had made for a reprint in boston. well, all looked pretty well, when, lo, we found that a second new york publishing house had announced a reprint also! i wrote then to both new york publishers, asking them to give way to the author and his reprint of a revised edition. i got an answer from the harpers that they withdraw --from the appletons that they had got the book out (and the next day i saw a copy); but that, "if the work should have any considerable sale, we certainly shall be disposed to pay the author reasonably and liberally." the appletons being thus out with their reprint, the boston house declined to go on. so i wrote to the appletons taking them at their word, offering to aid their reprint, to give them the use of the alterations in the london reprint, as soon as i find out what they are, etc. etc. and i sent them the first leaf, and asked them to insert in their future issue the additional matter from butler (a quotation from butler's 'analogy,' on the use of the word natural, which in the second edition is placed with the passages from whewell and bacon on page ii, opposite the title-page.), which tells just right. so there the matter stands. if you furnish any matter in advance of the london third edition, i will make them pay for it. i may get something for you. all got is clear gain; but it will not be very much, i suppose. such little notices in the papers here as have yet appeared are quite handsome and considerate. i hope next week to get printed sheets of my review from new haven, and send [them] to you, and will ask you to pass them on to dr. hooker. to fulfil your request, i ought to tell you what i think the weakest, and what the best, part of your book. but this is not easy, nor to be done in a word or two. the best part, i think, is the whole, i.e., its plan and treatment, the vast amount of facts and acute inferences handled as if you had a perfect mastery of them. i do not think twenty years too much time to produce such a book in. style clear and good, but now and then wants revision for little matters (page , self-fertilises itself, etc.). then your candour is worth everything to your cause. it is refreshing to find a person with a new theory who frankly confesses that he finds difficulties, insurmountable, at least for the present. i know some people who never have any difficulties to speak of. the moment i understood your premisses, i felt sure you had a real foundation to hold on. well, if one admits your premisses, i do not see how he is to stop short of your conclusions, as a probable hypothesis at least. it naturally happens that my review of your book does not exhibit anything like the full force of the impression the book has made upon me. under the circumstances i suppose i do your theory more good here, by bespeaking for it a fair and favourable consideration, and by standing non-committed as to its full conclusions, than i should if i announced myself a convert; nor could i say the latter, with truth. well, what seems to me the weakest point in the book is the attempt to account for the formation of organs, the making of eyes, etc., by natural selection. some of this reads quite lamarckian. the chapter on hybridism is not a weak, but a strong chapter. you have done wonders there. but still you have not accounted, as you may be held to account, for divergence up to a certain extent producing increased fertility of the crosses, but carried one short almost imperceptible step more, giving rise to sterility, or reversing the tendency. very likely you are on the right track; but you have something to do yet in that department. enough for the present. ... i am not insensible to your compliments, the very high compliment which you pay me in valuing my opinion. you evidently think more of it than i do, though from the way i write [to] you, and especially [to] hooker, this might not be inferred from the reading of my letters. i am free to say that i never learnt so much from one book as i have from yours, there remain a thousand things i long to say about it. ever yours, asa gray. charles darwin to asa gray. [february? ]. ... now i will just run through some points in your letter. what you say about my book gratifies me most deeply, and i wish i could feel all was deserved by me. i quite think a review from a man, who is not an entire convert, if fair and moderately favourable, is in all respects the best kind of review. about the weak points i agree. the eye to this day gives me a cold shudder, but when i think of the fine known gradations, my reason tells me i ought to conquer the cold shudder. pray kindly remember and tell prof. wyman how very grateful i should be for any hints, information, or criticisms. i have the highest respect for his opinion. i am so sorry about dana's health. i have already asked him to pay me a visit. farewell, you have laid me under a load of obligation--not that i feel it a load. it is the highest possible gratification to me to think that you have found my book worth reading and reflection; for you and three others i put down in my own mind as the judges whose opinions i should value most of all. my dear gray, yours most sincerely, c. darwin. p.s.--i feel pretty sure, from my own experience, that if you are led by your studies to keep the subject of the origin of species before your mind, you will go further and further in your belief. it took me long years, and i assure you i am astonished at the impression my book has made on many minds. i fear twenty years ago, i should not have been half as candid and open to conviction. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [january st, ]. my dear hooker, i have resolved to publish a little sketch of the progress of opinion on the change of species. will you or mrs. hooker do me the favour to copy one sentence out of naudin's paper in the 'revue horticole,' , page , namely, that on his principle of finalite. can you let me have it soon, with those confounded dashes over the vowels put in carefully? asa gray, i believe, is going to get a second edition of my book, and i want to send this little preface over to him soon. i did not think of the necessity of having naudin's sentence on finality, otherwise i would have copied it. yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--i shall end by just alluding to your australian flora introduction. what was the date of publication: december , or january ? please answer this. my preface will also do for the french edition, which i believe, is agreed on. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. february [ ]. ... as the 'origin' now stands, harvey's (william henry harvey was descended from a quaker family of youghal, and was born in february, , at summerville, a country house on the banks of the shannon. he died at torquay in . in , harvey went to africa (table bay) to pursue his botanical studies, the results of which were given in his 'genera of south african plants.' in , ill-health compelled him to obtain leave of absence, and return to england for a time; in he returned to cape town, to be again compelled by illness to leave. in he obtained the appointment of botanical professor at trinity college, dublin. in , , and he visited australia, new zealand, the friendly and fiji islands. in dr. harvey reached home, and was appointed the successor of professor allman to the chair of botany in dublin university. he was author of several botanical works, principally on algae.--(from a memoir published in .)) is a good hit against my talking so much of the insensibly fine gradations; and certainly it has astonished me that i should be pelted with the fact, that i had not allowed abrupt and great enough variations under nature. it would take a good deal more evidence to make me admit that forms have often changed by saltum. have you seen wollaston's attack in the 'annals'? ('annals and magazine of natural history,' .) the stones are beginning to fly. but theology has more to do with these two attacks than science... [in the above letter a paper by harvey in the "gardeners' chronicle", february , , is alluded to. he describes a case of monstrosity in begonia frigida, in which the "sport" differed so much from a normal begonia that it might have served as the type of a distinct natural order. harvey goes on to argue that such a case is hostile to the theory of natural selection, according to which changes are not supposed to take place per saltum, and adds that "a few such cases would overthrow it [mr. darwin's hypothesis] altogether." in the following number of the "gardeners' chronicle" sir j.d. hooker showed that dr. harvey had misconceived the bearing of the begonia case, which he further showed to be by no means calculated to shake the validity of the doctrine of modification by means of natural selection. my father mentions the begonia case in a letter to lyell (february , ):-- "i send by this post an attack in the "gardeners' chronicle", by harvey (a first-rate botanist, as you probably know). it seems to me rather strange; he assumes the permanence of monsters, whereas, monsters are generally sterile, and not often inheritable. but grant his case, it comes that i have been too cautious in not admitting great and sudden variations. here again comes in the mischief of my abstract. in the fuller ms. i have discussed a parallel case of a normal fish like the monstrous gold-fish." with reference to sir j.d. hooker's reply, my father wrote:] down, [february th, ]. my dear hooker, your answer to harvey seems to me admirably good. you would have made a gigantic fortune as a barrister. what an omission of harvey's about the graduated state of the flowers! but what strikes me most is that surely i ought to know my own book best, yet, by jove, you have brought forward ever so many arguments which i did not think of! your reference to classification (viz. i presume to such cases as aspicarpa) is excellent, for the monstrous begonia no doubt in all details would be begonia. i did not think of this, nor of the retrograde step from separated sexes to an hermaphrodite state; nor of the lessened fertility of the monster. proh pudor to me. the world would say what a lawyer has been lost in a mere botanist! farewell, my dear master in my own subject, yours affectionately, c. darwin. i am so heartily pleased to see that you approve of the chapter on classification. i wonder what harvey will say. but no one hardly, i think, is able at first to see when he is beaten in an argument. [the following letters refer to the first translation ( ) of the 'origin of species' into german, which was superintended by h.g. bronn, a good zoologist and palaeontologist, who was at the time at freiburg, but afterwards professor at heidelberg. i have been told that the translation was not a success, it remained an obvious translation, and was correspondingly unpleasant to read. bronn added to the translation an appendix of the difficulties that occurred to him. for instance, how can natural selection account for differences between species, when these differences appear to be of no service to their possessors; e.g., the length of the ears and tail, or the folds in the enamel of the teeth of various species of rodents? krause, in his book, 'charles darwin,' page , criticises bronn's conduct in this manner, but it will be seen that my father actually suggested the addition of bronn's remarks. a more serious charge against bronn made by krause (op. cit. page ) is that he left out passages of which he did not approve, as, for instance, the passage ('origin,' first edition, page ) "light will be thrown on the origin of man and his history." i have no evidence as to whether my father did or did not know of these alterations.] charles darwin to h.g. bronn. down, february [ ]. dear and much honoured sir, i thank you sincerely for your most kind letter; i feared that you would much disapprove of the 'origin,' and i sent it to you merely as a mark of my sincere respect. i shall read with much interest your work on the productions of islands whenever i receive it. i thank you cordially for the notice in the 'neues jahrbuch fur mineralogie,' and still more for speaking to schweitzerbart about a translation; for i am most anxious that the great and intellectual german people should know something about my book. i have told my publisher to send immediately a copy of the new (second edition.) edition to schweitzerbart, and i have written to schweitzerbart that i gave up all right to profit for myself, so that i hope a translation will appear. i fear that the book will be difficult to translate, and if you could advise schweitzerbart about a good translator, it would be of very great service. still more, if you would run your eye over the more difficult parts of the translation; but this is too great a favour to expect. i feel sure that it will be difficult to translate, from being so much condensed. again i thank you for your noble and generous sympathy, and i remain, with entire respect, yours, truly obliged, c. darwin. p.s.--the new edition has some few corrections, and i will send in ms. some additional corrections, and a short historical preface, to schweitzerbart. how interesting you could make the work by editing (i do not mean translating) the work, and appending notes of refutation or confirmation. the book has sold so very largely in england, that an editor would, i think, make profit by the translation. charles darwin to h.g. bronn. down, february [ ]. my dear and much honoured sir, i thank you cordially for your extreme kindness in superintending the translation. i have mentioned this to some eminent scientific men, and they all agree that you have done a noble and generous service. if i am proved quite wrong, yet i comfort myself in thinking that my book may do some good, as truth can only be known by rising victorious from every attack. i thank you also much for the review, and for the kind manner in which you speak of me. i send with this letter some corrections and additions to m. schweitzerbart, and a short historical preface. i am not much acquainted with german authors, as i read german very slowly; therefore i do not know whether any germans have advocated similar views with mine; if they have, would you do me the favour to insert a foot-note to the preface? m. schweitzerbart has now the reprint ready for a translator to begin. several scientific men have thought the term "natural selection" good, because its meaning is not obvious, and each man could not put on it his own interpretation, and because it at once connects variation under domestication and nature. is there any analogous term used by german breeders of animals? "adelung," ennobling, would, perhaps, be too metaphysical. it is folly in me, but i cannot help doubting whether "wahl der lebensweise" expresses my notion. it leaves the impression on my mind of the lamarckian doctrine (which i reject) of habits of life being al-important. man has altered, and thus improved the english race-horse by selecting successive fleeter individuals; and i believe, owing to the struggle for existence, that similar slight variations in a wild horse, if advantageous to it, would be selected or preserved by nature; hence natural selection. but i apologise for troubling you with these remarks on the importance of choosing good german terms for "natural selection." with my heartfelt thanks, and with sincere respect, i remain, dear sir, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. charles darwin to h.g. bronn. down, july [ ]. dear and honoured sir, on my return home, after an absence of some time, i found the translation of the third part (the german translation was published in three pamphle-like numbers.) of the 'origin,' and i have been delighted to see a final chapter of criticisms by yourself. i have read the first few paragraphs and final paragraph, and am perfectly contented, indeed more than contented, with the generous and candid spirit with which you have considered my views. you speak with too much praise of my work. i shall, of course, carefully read the whole chapter; but though i can read descriptive books like gaertner's pretty easily, when any reasoning comes in, i find german excessively difficult to understand. at some future time i should very much like to hear how my book has been received in germany, and i most sincerely hope m. schweitzerbart will not lose money by the publication. most of the reviews have been bitterly opposed to me in england, yet i have made some converts, and several naturalists who would not believe in a word of it, are now coming slightly round, and admit that natural selection may have done something. this gives me hope that more will ultimately come round to a certain extent to my views. i shall ever consider myself deeply indebted to you for the immense service and honour which you have conferred on me in making the excellent translation of my book. pray believe me, with most sincere respect, dear sir, yours gratefully, charles darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, [february th, ]. ... i think it was a great pity that huxley wasted so much time in the lecture on the preliminary remarks;... but his lecture seemed to me very fine and very bold. i have remonstrated (and he agrees) against the impression that he would leave, that sterility was a universal and infallible criterion of species. you will, i am sure, make a grand discussion on man. i am so glad to hear that you and lady lyell will come here. pray fix your own time; and if it did not suit us we would say so. we could then discuss man well... how much i owe to you and hooker! i do not suppose i should hardly ever have published had it not been for you. [the lecture referred to in the last letter was given at the royal institution, february , . the following letter was written in reply to mr. huxley's request for information about breeding, hybridisation, etc. it is of interest as giving a vivid retrospect of the writer's experience on the subject.] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. ilkley, yorks, november [ ]. my dear huxley, gartner grand, kolreuter grand, but papers scattered through many volumes and very lengthy. i had to make an abstract of the whole. herbert's volume on amaryllidaceae very good, and two excellent papers in the 'horticultural journal.' for animals, no resume to be trusted at all; facts are to be collected from all original sources. (this caution is exemplified in the following extract from an earlier letter to professor huxley:--"the inaccuracy of the blessed gang (of which i am one) of compilers passes all bounds. monsters have frequently been described as hybrids without a tittle of evidence. i must give one other case to show how we jolly fellows work. a belgian baron (i forget his name at this moment) crossed two distinct geese and got seven hybrids, which he proved subsequently to be quite sterile; well, compiler the first, chevreul, says that the hybrids were propagated for seven generations inter se. compiler second (morton) mistakes the french name, and gives latin names for two more distinct geese, and says chevreul himself propagated them inter se for seven generations; and the latter statement is copied from book to book.") i fear my ms. for the bigger book (twice or thrice as long as in present book), with all references, would be illegible, but it would save you infinite labour; of course i would gladly lend it, but i have no copy, so care would have to be taken of it. but my accursed handwriting would be fatal, i fear. about breeding, i know of no one book. i did not think well of lowe, but i can name none better. youatt i look at as a far better and more practical authority; but then his views and facts are scattered through three or four thick volumes. i have picked up most by reading really numberless special treatises and all agricultural and horticultural journals; but it is a work of long years. the difficulty is to know what to trust. no one or two statements are worth a farthing; the facts are so complicated. i hope and think i have been really cautious in what i state on this subject, although all that i have given, as yet, is far too briefly. i have found it very important associating with fanciers and breeders. for instance, i sat one evening in a gin palace in the borough amongst a set of pigeon fanciers, when it was hinted that mr. bull had crossed his pouters with runts to gain size; and if you had seen the solemn, the mysterious, and awful shakes of the head which all the fanciers gave at this scandalous proceeding, you would have recognised how little crossing has had to do with improving breeds, and how dangerous for endless generations the process was. all this was brought home far more vividly than by pages of mere statements, etc. but i am scribbling foolishly. i really do not know how to advise about getting up facts on breeding and improving breeds. go to shows is one way. read all treatises on any one domestic animal, and believe nothing without largely confirmed. for your lectures i can give you a few amusing anecdotes and sentences, if you want to make the audience laugh. i thank you particularly for telling me what naturalists think. if we can once make a compact set of believers we shall in time conquer. i am eminently glad ramsey is on our side, for he is, in my opinion, a firs-rate geologist. i sent him a copy. i hope he got it. i shall be very curious to hear whether any effect has been produced on prestwich; i sent him a copy, not as a friend, but owing to a sentence or two in some paper, which made me suspect he was doubting. rev. c. kingsley has a mind to come round. quatrefages writes that he goes some long way with me; says he exhibited diagrams like mine. with most hearty thanks, yours very tired, c. darwin. [i give the conclusion of professor huxley's lecture, as being one of the earliest, as well as one of the most eloquent of his utterances in support of the 'origin of species']: "i have said that the man of science is the sworn interpreter of nature in the high court of reason. but of what avail is his honest speech, if ignorance is the assessor of the judge, and prejudice the foreman of the jury? i hardly know of a great physical truth, whose universal reception has not been preceded by an epoch in which most estimable persons have maintained that the phenomena investigated were directly dependent on the divine will, and that the attempt to investigate them was not only futile, but blasphemous. and there is a wonderful tenacity of life about this sort of opposition to physical science. crushed and maimed in every battle, it yet seems never to be slain; and after a hundred defeats it is at this day as rampant, though happily not so mischievous, as in the time of galileo. "but to those whose life is spent, to use newton's noble words, in picking up here a pebble and there a pebble on the shores of the great ocean of truth--who watch, day by day, the slow but sure advance of that mighty tide, bearing on its bosom the thousand treasures wherewith man ennobles and beautifies his life--it would be laughable, if it were not so sad, to see the little canutes of the hour enthroned in solemn state, bidding that great wave to stay, and threatening to check its beneficent progress. the wave rises and they fly; but, unlike the brave old dane, they learn no lesson of humility: the throne is pitched at what seems a safe distance, and the folly is repeated. "surely it is the duty of the public to discourage anything of this kind, to discredit these foolish meddlers who think they do the almighty a service by preventing a thorough study of his works. "the origin of species is not the first, and it will not be the last, of the great questions born of science, which will demand settlement from this generation. the general mind is seething strangely, and to those who watch the signs of the times, it seems plain that this nineteenth century will see revolutions of thought and practice as great as those which the sixteenth witnessed. through what trials and sore contests the civilised world will have to pass in the course of this new reformation, who can tell? "but i verily believe that come what will, the part which england may play in the battle is a grand and a noble one. she may prove to the world that, for one people, at any rate, despotism and demagogy are not the necessary alternatives of government; that freedom and order are not incompatible; that reverence is the handmaid of knowledge; that free discussion is the life of truth, and of true unity in a nation. "will england play this part? that depends upon how you, the public, deal with science. cherish her, venerate her, follow her methods faithfully and implicitly in their application to all branches of human thought, and the future of this people will be greater than the past. "listen to those who would silence and crush her, and i fear our children will see the glory of england vanishing like arthur in the mist; they will cry too late the woful cry of guinever:-- 'it was my duty to have loved the highest; it surely was my profit had i known; it would have been my pleasure had i seen.'"] charles darwin to c. lyell. down [february th, ]. ... i am perfectly convinced (having read this morning) that the review in the 'annals' (annals and mag. of nat. hist. third series, vol. , page . my father has obviously taken the expression "pestilent" from the following passage (page ): "but who is this nature, we have a right to ask, who has such tremendous power, and to whose efficiency such marvellous performances are ascribed? what are her image and attributes, when dragged from her wordy lurking-place? is she aught but a pestilent abstraction, like dust cast in our eyes to obscure the workings of an intelligent first cause of all?" the reviewer pays a tribute to my father's candour, "so manly and outspoken as almost to 'cover a multitude of sins.'" the parentheses (to which allusion is made above) are so frequent as to give a characteristic appearance to mr. wollaston's pages.) is by wollaston; no one else in the world would have used so many parentheses. i have written to him, and told him that the "pestilent" fellow thanks him for his kind manner of speaking about him. i have also told him that he would be pleased to hear that the bishop of oxford says it is the most unphilosophical (another version of the words is given by lyell, to whom they were spoken, viz. "the most illogical book ever written."--'life,' volume ii. page .) work he ever read. the review seems to me clever, and only misinterprets me in a few places. like all hostile men, he passes over the explanation given of classification, morphology, embryology, and rudimentary organs, etc. i read wallace's paper in ms. ("on the zoological geography of the malay archipelago."--linn. soc. journ. .), and thought it admirably good; he does not know that he has been anticipated about the depth of intervening sea determining distribution... the most curious point in the paper seems to me that about the african character of the celebes productions, but i should require further confirmation... henslow is staying here; i have had some talk with him; he is in much the same state as bunbury (the late sir charles bunbury, well-known as a palaeo-botanist.), and will go a very little way with us, but brings up no real argument against going further. he also shudders at the eye! it is really curious (and perhaps is an argument in our favour) how differently different opposers view the subject. henslow used to rest his opposition on the imperfection of the geological record, but he now thinks nothing of this, and says i have got well out of it; i wish i could quite agree with him. baden powell says he never read anything so conclusive as my statement about the eye!! a stranger writes to me about sexual selection, and regrets that i boggle about such a trifle as the brush of hair on the male turkey, and so on. as l. jenyns has a really philosophical mind, and as you say you like to see everything, i send an old letter of his. in a later letter to henslow, which i have seen, he is more candid than any opposer i have heard of, for he says, though he cannot go so far as i do, yet he can give no good reason why he should not. it is funny how each man draws his own imaginary line at which to halt. it reminds me so vividly what i was told (by professor henslow.) about you when i first commenced geology--to believe a little, but on no account to believe all. ever yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, february th [ ]. my dear gray, i received about a week ago two sheets of your review (the 'american journal of science and arts,' march, . reprinted in 'darwiniana,' .); read them, and sent them to hooker; they are now returned and r-read with care, and to-morrow i send them to lyell. your review seems to me admirable; by far the best which i have read. i thank you from my heart both for myself, but far more for the subject's sake. your contrast between the views of agassiz and such as mine is very curious and instructive. (the contrast is briefly summed up thus: "the theory of agassiz regards the origin of species and their present general distribution over the world as equally primordial, equally supernatural; that of darwin as equally derivative, equally natural."--'darwiniana,' page .) by the way, if agassiz writes anything on the subject, i hope you will tell me. i am charmed with your metaphor of the streamlet never running against the force of gravitation. your distinction between an hypothesis and theory seems to me very ingenious; but i do not think it is ever followed. every one now speaks of the undulatory theory of light; yet the ether is itself hypothetical, and the undulations are inferred only from explaining the phenomena of light. even in the theory of gravitation is the attractive power in any way known, except by explaining the fall of the apple, and the movements of the planets? it seems to me that an hypothesis is developed into a theory solely by explaining an ample lot of facts. again and again i thank you for your generous aid in discussing a view, about which you very properly hold yourself unbiassed. my dear gray, yours most sincerely, c. darwin. p.s.--several clergymen go far with me. rev. l. jenyns, a very good naturalist. henslow will go a very little way with me, and is not shocked with me. he has just been visiting me. [with regard to the attitude of the more liberal representatives of the church, the following letter (already referred to) from charles kingsley is of interest:] c. kingsley to charles darwin. eversley rectory, winchfield, november th, . dear sir, i have to thank you for the unexpected honour of your book. that the naturalist whom, of all naturalists living, i most wish to know and to learn from, should have sent a scientist like me his book, encourages me at least to observe more carefully, and perhaps more slowly. i am so poorly (in brain), that i fear i cannot read your book just now as i ought. all i have seen of it awes me; both with the heap of facts and the prestige of your name, and also with the clear intuition, that if you be right, i must give up much that i have believed and written. in that i care little. let god be true, and every man a liar! let us know what is, and, as old socrates has it, epesthai to logo--follow up the villainous shifty fox of an argument, into whatsoever unexpected bogs and brakes he may lead us, if we do but run into him at last. from two common superstitions, at least, i shall be free while judging of your books:-- . i have long since, from watching the crossing of domesticated animals and plants, learnt to disbelieve the dogma of the permanence of species. . i have gradually learnt to see that it is just as noble a conception of deity, to believe that he created primal forms capable of self development into all forms needful pro tempore and pro loco, as to believe that he required a fresh act of intervention to supply the lacunas which he himself had made. i question whether the former be not the loftier thought. be it as it may, i shall prize your book, both for itself, and as a proof that you are aware of the existence of such a person as your faithful servant, c. kingsley. [my father's old friend, the rev. j. brodie innes, of milton brodie, who was for many years vicar of down, writes in the same spirit: "we never attacked each other. before i knew mr. darwin i had adopted, and publicly expressed, the principle that the study of natural history, geology, and science in general, should be pursued without reference to the bible. that the book of nature and scripture came from the same divine source, ran in parallel lines, and when properly understood would never cross... "his views on this subject were very much to the same effect from his side. of course any conversations we may have had on purely religious subjects are as sacredly private now as in his life; but the quaint conclusion of one may be given. we had been speaking of the apparent contradiction of some supposed discoveries with the book of genesis; he said, 'you are (it would have been more correct to say you ought to be) a theologian, i am a naturalist, the lines are separate. i endeavour to discover facts without considering what is said in the book of genesis. i do not attack moses, and i think moses can take care of himself.' to the same effect he wrote more recently, 'i cannot remember that i ever published a word directly against religion or the clergy; but if you were to read a little pamphlet which i received a couple of days ago by a clergyman, you would laugh, and admit that i had some excuse for bitterness. after abusing me for two or three pages, in language sufficiently plain and emphatic to have satisfied any reasonable man, he sums up by saying that he has vainly searched the english language to find terms to express his contempt for me and all darwinians.' in another letter, after i had left down, he writes, 'we often differed, but you are one of those rare mortals from whom one can differ and yet feel no shade of animosity, and that is a thing [of] which i should feel very proud, if any one could say [it] of me.' "on my last visit to down, mr. darwin said, at his dinner-table, 'brodie innes and i have been fast friends for thirty years, and we never thoroughly agreed on any subject but once, and then we stared hard at each other, and thought one of us must be very ill.'"] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, february rd [ ]. my dear lyell, that is a splendid answer of the father of judge crompton. how curious that the judge should have hit on exactly the same points as yourself. it shows me what a capital lawyer you would have made, how many unjust acts you would have made appear just! but how much grander a field has science been than the law, though the latter might have made you lord kinnordy. i will, if there be another edition, enlarge on gradation in the eye, and on all forms coming from one prototype, so as to try and make both less glaringly improbable... with respect to bronn's objection that it cannot be shown how life arises, and likewise to a certain extent asa gray's remark that natural selection is not a vera causa, i was much interested by finding accidentally in brewster's 'life of newton,' that leibnitz objected to the law of gravity because newton could not show what gravity itself is. as it has chanced, i have used in letters this very same argument, little knowing that any one had really thus objected to the law of gravity. newton answers by saying that it is philosophy to make out the movements of a clock, though you do not know why the weight descends to the ground. leibnitz further objected that the law of gravity was opposed to natural religion! is this not curious? i really think i shall use the facts for some introductory remarks for my bigger book. ... you ask (i see) why we do not have monstrosities in higher animals; but when they live they are almost always sterile (even giants and dwarfs are generally sterile), and we do not know that harvey's monster would have bred. there is i believe only one case on record of a peloric flower being fertile, and i cannot remember whether this reproduced itself. to recur to the eye. i really think it would have been dishonest, not to have faced the difficulty; and worse (as talleyrand would have said), it would have been impolitic i think, for it would have been thrown in my teeth, as h. holland threw the bones of the ear, till huxley shut him up by showing what a fine gradation occurred amongst living creatures. i thank you much for your most pleasant letter. yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--i send a letter by herbert spencer, which you can read or not as you think fit. he puts, to my mind, the philosophy of the argument better than almost any one, at the close of the letter. i could make nothing of dana's idealistic notions about species; but then, as wollaston says, i have not a metaphysical head. by the way, i have thrown at wollaston's head, a paper by alexander jordan, who demonstrates metaphysically that all our cultivated races are go-created species. wollaston misrepresents accidentally, to a wonderful extent, some passages in my book. he reviewed, without relooking at certain passages. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, february th [ ]. ... i cannot help wondering at your zeal about my book. i declare to heaven you seem to care as much about my book as i do myself. you have no right to be so eminently unselfish! i have taken off my spit [i.e. file] a letter of ramsay's, as every geologist convert i think very important. by the way, i saw some time ago a letter from h.d. rogers (professor of geology in the university of glasgow. born in the united states , died .) to huxley, in which he goes very far with us... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, saturday, march rd, [ ]. my dear hooker, what a day's work you had on that thursday! i was not able to go to london till monday, and then i was a fool for going, for, on tuesday night, i had an attack of fever (with a touch of pleurisy), which came on like a lion, but went off as a lamb, but has shattered me a good bit. i was much interested by your last note... i think you expect too much in regard to change of opinion on the subject of species. one large class of men, more especially i suspect of naturalists, never will care about any general question, of which old gray, of the british museum, may be taken as a type; and secondly, nearly all men past a moderate age, either in actual years or in mind, are, i am fully convinced, incapable of looking at facts under a new point of view. seriously, i am astonished and rejoiced at the progress which the subject has made; look at the enclosed memorandum. (see table of names below.) -- says my book will be forgotten in ten years, perhaps so; but, with such a list, i feel convinced the subject will not. the outsiders, as you say, are strong. you say that you think that bentham is touched, "but, like a wise man, holds his tongue." perhaps you only mean that he cannot decide, otherwise i should think such silence the reverse of magnanimity; for if others behaved the same way, how would opinion ever progress? it is a dereliction of actual duty. (in a subsequent letter to sir j.d. hooker (march th, ), my father wrote, "i now quite understand bentham's silence.") i am so glad to hear about thwaites. (dr. g.j.k. thwaites, who was born in , established a reputation in this country as an expert microscopist, and an acute observer, working especially at cryptogamic botany. on his appointment as director of the botanic gardens at peradenyia, ceylon, dr. thwaites devoted himself to the flora of ceylon. as a result of this he has left numerous and valuable collections, a description of which he embodied in his 'enumeratio plantarum zeylaniae' ( ). dr. thwaites was a fellow of the linnean society, but beyond the above facts little seems to have been recorded of his life. his death occurred in ceylon on september th, , in his seventy-second year. "athenaeum", october th, , page .)... i have had an astounding letter from dr. boott (the letter is enthusiastically laudatory, and obviously full of genuine feeling.); it might be turned into ridicule against him and me, so i will not send it to any one. he writes in a noble spirit of love of truth. i wonder what lindley thinks; probably too busy to read or think on the question. i am vexed about bentham's reticence, for it would have been of real value to know what parts appeared weakest to a man of his powers of observation. farewell, my dear hooker, yours affectionately, c. darwin. p.s.--is not harvey in the class of men who do not at all care for generalities? i remember your saying you could not get him to write on distribution. i have found his works very unfruitful in every respect. [here follows the memorandum referred to:] geologists. zoologists and physiologists. botanists. palaeontologists. lyell. huxley. carpenter. hooker. ramsay.* j. lubbock. sir h. holland h.c. watson. (to large extent). jukes.* l. jenyns asa gray (to large extent). (to some extent). h.d. rogers. searles wood.* dr. boott (to large extent). thwaites. (*andrew ramsay, late director-general of the geological survey. joseph beete jukes, m.a., f.r.s., - . he was educated at cambridge, and from to he acted as naturalist to h.m.s. "fly", on an exploring expedition in australia and new guinea. he was afterwards appointed director of the geological survey of ireland. he was the author of many papers, and of more than one good hand-book of geology. searles valentine wood, february , - . chiefly known for his work on the mollusca of the 'crag.') [the following letter is of interest in connection with the mention of mr. bentham in the last letter:] g. bentham to francis darwin. wilton place, s.w., may th, . my dear sir, in compliance with your note which i received last night, i send herewith the letters i have from your father. i should have done so on seeing the general request published in the papers, but that i did not think there were any among them which could be of any use to you. highly flattered as i was by the kind and friendly notice with which mr. darwin occasionally honoured me, i was never admitted into his intimacy, and he therefore never made any communications to me in relation to his views and labours. i have been throughout one of his most sincere admirers, and fully adopted his theories and conclusions, notwithstanding the severe pain and disappointment they at first occasioned me. on the day that his celebrated paper was read at the linnean society, july st, , a long paper of mine had been set down for reading, in which, in commenting on the british flora, i had collected a number of observations and facts illustrating what i then believed to be a fixity in species, however difficult it might be to assign their limits, and showing a tendency of abnormal forms produced by cultivation or otherwise, to withdraw within those original limits when left to themselves. most fortunately my paper had to give way to mr. darwin's and when once that was read, i felt bound to defer mine for reconsideration; i began to entertain doubts on the subject, and on the appearance of the 'origin of species,' i was forced, however reluctantly, to give up my long-cherished convictions, the results of much labour and study, and i cancelled all that part of my paper which urged original fixity, and published only portions of the remainder in another form, chiefly in the 'natural history review.' i have since acknowledged on various occasions my full adoption of mr. darwin's views, and chiefly in my presidential address of , and in my thirteenth and last address, issued in the form of a report to the british association at its meeting at belfast in . i prize so highly the letters that i have of mr. darwin's, that i should feel obliged by your returning them to me when you have done with them. unfortunately i have not kept the envelopes, and mr. darwin usually only dated them by the month not by the year, so that they are not in any chronological order. yours very sincerely, george bentham. charles darwin to c. lyell. down [march] th [ ]. my dear lyell, thinking over what we talked about, the high state of intellectual development of the old grecians with the little or no subsequent improvement, being an apparent difficulty, it has just occurred to me that in fact the case harmonises perfectly with our views. the case would be a decided difficulty on the lamarckian or vestigian doctrine of necessary progression, but on the view which i hold of progression depending on the conditions, it is no objection at all, and harmonises with the other facts of progression in the corporeal structure of other animals. for in a state of anarchy, or despotism, or bad government, or after irruption of barbarians, force, strength, or ferocity, and not intellect, would be apt to gain the day. we have so enjoyed your and lady lyell's visit. good-night. c. darwin. p.s.--by an odd chance (for i had not alluded even to the subject) the ladies attacked me this evening, and threw the high state of old grecians into my teeth, as an unanswerable difficulty, but by good chance i had my answer all pat, and silenced them. hence i have thought it worth scribbling to you... charles darwin to j. prestwich. (now professor of geology in the university of oxford.) down, march th [ ]. ... at some future time, when you have a little leisure, and when you have read my 'origin of species,' i should esteem it a singular favour if you would send me any general criticisms. i do not mean of unreasonable length, but such as you could include in a letter. i have always admired your various memoirs so much that i should be eminently glad to receive your opinion, which might be of real service to me. pray do not suppose that i expect to convert or pervert you; if i could stagger you in ever so slight a degree i should be satisfied; nor fear to annoy me by severe criticisms, for i have had some hearty kicks from some of my best friends. if it would not be disagreeable to you to send me your opinion, i certainly should be truly obliged... charles darwin to asa gray. down, april rd [ ]. ... i remember well the time when the thought of the eye made me cold all over, but i have got over this stage of the complaint, and now small trifling particulars of structure often make me very uncomfortable. the sight of a feather in a peacock's tail, whenever i gaze at it, makes me sick!... you may like to hear about reviews on my book. sedgwick (as i and lyell feel certain from internal evidence) has reviewed me savagely and unfairly in the "spectator". (see the quotations which follow the present letter.) the notice includes much abuse, and is hardly fair in several respects. he would actually lead any one, who was ignorant of geology, to suppose that i had invented the great gaps between successive geological formations, instead of its being an almost universally admitted dogma. but my dear old friend sedgwick, with his noble heart, is old, and is rabid with indignation. it is hard to please every one; you may remember that in my last letter i asked you to leave out about the weald denudation: i told jukes this (who is head man of the irish geological survey), and he blamed me much, for he believed every word of it, and thought it not at all exaggerated! in fact, geologists have no means of gauging the infinitude of past time. there has been one prodigy of a review, namely, an opposed one (by pictet (francois jules pictet, in the 'archives des sciences de la bibliotheque universelle,' mars . the article is written in a courteous and considerate tone, and concludes by saying that the 'origin' will be of real value to naturalists, especially if they are not led away by its seductive arguments to believe in the dangerous doctrine of modification. a passage which seems to have struck my father as being valuable, and opposite which he has made double pencil marks and written the word "good," is worth quoting: "la theorie de m. darwin s'accorde mal avec l'histoire des types a formes bien tranchees et definies qui paraissent n'avoir vecu que pendant un temps limite. on en pourrait citer des centaines d'exemples, tel que les reptiles volants, les ichthyosaures, les belemnites, les ammonites, etc." pictet was born in , died ; he was professor of anatomy and zoology at geneva.), the palaeontologist, in the bib. universelle of geneva) which is perfectly fair and just, and i agree to every word he says; our only difference being that he attaches less weight to arguments in favour, and more to arguments opposed, than i do. of all the opposed reviews, i think this the only quite fair one, and i never expected to see one. please observe that i do not class your review by any means as opposed, though you think so yourself! it has done me much too good service ever to appear in that rank in my eyes. but i fear i shall weary you with so much about my book. i should rather think there was a good chance of my becoming the most egotistical man in all europe! what a proud pre-eminence! well, you have helped to make me so and therefore you must forgive me if you can. my dear gray, ever yours most gratefully, c. darwin. [in a letter to sir charles lyell reference is made to sedgwick's review in the "spectator", march : "i now feel certain that sedgwick is the author of the article in the "spectator". no one else could use such abusive terms. and what a misrepresentation of my notions! any ignoramus would suppose that i had first broached the doctrine, that the breaks between successive formations marked long intervals of time. it is very unfair. but poor dear old sedgwick seems rabid on the question. "demoralised understanding!" if ever i talk with him i will tell him that i never could believe that an inquisitor could be a good man: but now i know that a man may roast another, and yet have as kind and noble a heart as sedgwick's." the following passages are taken from the review: "i need hardly go on any further with these objections. but i cannot conclude without expressing my detestation of the theory, because of its unflinching materialism;--because it has deserted the inductive track, the only track that leads to physical truth;--because it utterly repudiates final causes, and thereby indicates a demoralised understanding on the part of its advocates." "not that i believe that darwin is an atheist; though i cannot but regard his materialism as atheistical. i think it untrue, because opposed to the obvious course of nature, and the very opposite of inductive truth. and i think it intensely mischievous." "each series of facts is laced together by a series of assumptions, and repetitions of the one false principle. you cannot make a good rope out of a string of air bubbles." "but any startling and (supposed) novel paradox, maintained very boldly and with something of imposing plausibility, produces in some minds a kind of pleasing excitement which predisposes them in its favour; and if they are unused to careful reflection, and averse to the labour of accurate investigation, they will be likely to conclude that what is (apparently) original, must be a production of original genius, and that anything very much opposed to prevailing notions must be a grand discovery,--in short, that whatever comes from the 'bottom of a well' must be the 'truth' supposed to be hidden there." in a review in the december number of 'macmillan's magazine,' , fawcett vigorously defended my father from the charge of employing a false method of reasoning; a charge which occurs in sedgwick's review, and was made at the time ad nauseam, in such phrases as: "this is not the true baconian method." fawcett repeated his defence at the meeting of the british association in . (see an interesting letter from my father in mr. stephen's 'life of henry fawcett,' , page .)] charles darwin to w.b carpenter. down, april th [ ]. my dear carpenter, i have this minute finished your review in the 'med. chirurg. review.' (april .) you must let me express my admiration at this most able essay, and i hope to god it will be largely read, for it must produce a great effect. i ought not, however, to express such warm admiration, for you give my book, i fear, far too much praise. but you have gratified me extremely; and though i hope i do not care very much for the approbation of the non-scientific readers, i cannot say that this is at all so with respect to such few men as yourself. i have not a criticism to make, for i object to not a word; and i admire all, so that i cannot pick out one part as better than the rest. it is all so well balanced. but it is impossible not to be struck with your extent of knowledge in geology, botany, and zoology. the extracts which you give from hooker seem to me excellently chosen, and most forcible. i am so much pleased in what you say also about lyell. in fact i am in a fit of enthusiasm, and had better write no more. with cordial thanks, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, april th [ ]. my dear lyell, thank you much for your note of the th; i am very glad to hear that you are at torquay. i should have amused myself earlier by writing to you, but i have had hooker and huxley staying here, and they have fully occupied my time, as a little of anything is a full dose for me... there has been a plethora of reviews, and i am really quite sick of myself. there is a very long review by carpenter in the 'medical and chirurg. review,' very good and well balanced, but not brilliant. he discusses hooker's books at as great length as mine, and makes excellent extracts; but i could not get hooker to feel the least interest in being praised. carpenter speaks of you in thoroughly proper terms. there is a brilliant review by huxley ('westminster review,' april .), with capital hits, but i do not know that he much advances the subject. i think i have convinced him that he has hardly allowed weight enough to the case of varieties of plants being in some degrees sterile. to diverge from reviews: asa gray sends me from wyman (who will write), a good case of all the pigs being black in the everglades of virginia. on asking about the cause, it seems (i have got capital analogous cases) that when the black pigs eat a certain nut their bones become red, and they suffer to a certain extent, but that the white pigs lose their hoofs and perish, "and we aid by selection, for we kill most of the young white pigs." this was said by men who could hardly read. by the way, it is a great blow to me that you cannot admit the potency of natural selection. the more i think of it, the less i doubt its power for great and small changes. i have just read the 'edinburgh' ('edinburgh review,' april .), which without doubt is by --. it is extremely malignant, clever, and i fear will be very damaging. he is atrociously severe on huxley's lecture, and very bitter against hooker. so we three enjoyed it together. not that i really enjoyed it, for it made me uncomfortable for one night; but i have got quite over it to-day. it requires much study to appreciate all the bitter spite of many of the remarks against me; indeed i did not discover all myself. it scandalously misrepresents many parts. he misquotes some passages, altering words within inverted commas... it is painful to be hated in the intense degree with which -- hates me. now for a curious thing about my book, and then i have done. in last saturday's "gardeners' chronicle" (april th, .), a mr. patrick matthew publishes a long extract from his work on 'naval timber and arboriculture,' published in , in which he briefly but completely anticipates the theory of natural selection. i have ordered the book, as some few passages are rather obscure, but it is certainly, i think, a complete but not developed anticipation! erasmus always said that surely this would be shown to be the case some day. anyhow, one may be excused in not having discovered the fact in a work on naval timber. i heartily hope that your torquay work may be successful. give my kindest remembrances to falconer, and i hope he is pretty well. hooker and huxley (with mrs. huxley) were extremely pleasant. but poor dear hooker is tired to death of my book, and it is a marvel and a prodigy if you are not worse tired--if that be possible. farewell, my dear lyell, yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [april th, ]. my dear hooker, questions of priority so often lead to odious quarrels, that i should esteem it a great favour if you would read the enclosed. ((my father wrote ("gardeners' chronicle", , page , april st): "i have been much interested by mr. patrick matthew's communication in the number of your paper dated april th. i freely acknowledge that mr. matthew has anticipated by many years the explanation which i have offered of the origin of species, under the name of natural selection. i think that no one will feel surprised that neither i, nor apparently any other naturalist, had heard of mr. matthew's views, considering how briefly they are given, and that they appeared in the appendix to a work on naval timber and arboriculture. i can do no more than offer my apologies to mr. matthew for my entire ignorance of this publication. if any other edition of my work is called for, i will insert to the foregoing effect." in spite of my father's recognition of his claims, mr. matthew remained unsatisfied, and complained that an article in the 'saturday analyst and leader' was "scarcely fair in alluding to mr. darwin as the parent of the origin of species, seeing that i published the whole that mr. darwin attempts to prove, more than twenty-nine years ago."--"saturday analyst and leader", november , .) if you think it proper that i should send it (and of this there can hardly be any question), and if you think it full and ample enough, please alter the date to the day on which you post it, and let that be soon. the case in the "gardeners' chronicle" seems a little stronger than in mr. matthew's book, for the passages are therein scattered in three places; but it would be mere hair-splitting to notice that. if you object to my letter, please return it; but i do not expect that you will, but i thought that you would not object to run your eye over it. my dear hooker, it is a great thing for me to have so good, true, and old a friend as you. i owe much for science to my friends. many thanks for huxley's lecture. the latter part seemed to be grandly eloquent. ... i have gone over [the 'edinburgh'] review again, and compared passages, and i am astonished at the misrepresentations. but i am glad i resolved not to answer. perhaps it is selfish, but to answer and think more on the subject is too unpleasant. i am so sorry that huxley by my means has been thus atrociously attacked. i do not suppose you much care about the gratuitous attack on you. lyell in his letter remarked that you seemed to him as if you were overworked. do, pray, be cautious, and remember how many and many a man has done this--who thought it absurd till too late. i have often thought the same. you know that you were bad enough before your indian journey. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, april [ ]. my dear lyell, i was very glad to get your nice long letter from torquay. a press of letters prevented me writing to wells. i was particularly glad to hear what you thought about not noticing [the 'edinburgh'] review. hooker and huxley thought it a sort of duty to point out the alteration of quoted citations, and there is truth in this remark; but i so hated the thought that i resolved not to do so. i shall come up to london on saturday the th, for sir b. brodie's party, as i have an accumulation of things to do in london, and will (if i do not hear to the contrary) call about a quarter before ten on sunday morning, and sit with you at breakfast, but will not sit long, and so take up much of your time. i must say one more word about our quasi-theological controversy about natural selection, and let me have your opinion when we meet in london. do you consider that the successive variations in the size of the crop of the pouter pigeon, which man has accumulated to please his caprice, have been due to "the creative and sustaining powers of brahma?" in the sense that an omnipotent and omniscient deity must order and know everything, this must be admitted; yet, in honest truth, i can hardly admit it. it seems preposterous that a maker of a universe should care about the crop of a pigeon solely to please man's silly fancies. but if you agree with me in thinking such an interposition of the deity uncalled for, i can see no reason whatever for believing in such interpositions in the case of natural beings, in which strange and admirable peculiarities have been naturally selected for the creature's own benefit. imagine a pouter in a state of nature wading into the water and then, being buoyed up by its inflated crop, sailing about in search of food. what admiration this would have excited--adaptation to the laws of hydrostatic pressure, etc. etc. for the life of me i cannot see any difficulty in natural selection producing the most exquisite structure, if such structure can be arrived at by gradation, and i know from experience how hard it is to name any structure towards which at least some gradations are not known. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--the conclusion at which i have come, as i have told asa gray, is that such a question, as is touched on in this note, is beyond the human intellect, like "predestination and free will," or the "origin of evil." charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [april th, ]. my dear hooker, i return --'s letter... some of my relations say it cannot possibly be --'s article (the 'edinburgh review.'), because the reviewer speaks so very highly of --. poor dear simple folk! my clever neighbour, mr. norman, says the article is so badly written, with no definite object, that no one will read it. asa gray has sent me an article ('north american review,' april, . "by professor bowen," is written on my father's copy. the passage referred to occurs at page , where the author says that we ought to find "an infinite number of other varieties--gross, rude, and purposeless--the unmeaning creations of an unconscious cause.") from the united states, clever, and dead against me. but one argument is funny. the reviewer says, that if the doctrine were true, geological strata would be full of monsters which have failed! a very clear view this writer had of the struggle for existence! ... i am glad you like adam bede so much. i was charmed with it... we think you must by mistake have taken with your own numbers of the 'national review' my precious number. (this no doubt refers to the january number, containing dr. carpenter's review of the 'origin.') i wish you would look. charles darwin to asa gray. down, april th [ ]. my dear gray, i have no doubt i have to thank you for the copy of a review on the 'origin' in the 'north american review.' it seems to me clever, and i do not doubt will damage my book. i had meant to have made some remarks on it; but lyell wished much to keep it, and my head is quite confused between the many reviews which i have lately read. i am sure the reviewer is wrong about bees' cells, i.e. about the distance; any lesser distance would do, or even greater distance, but then some of the places would lie outside the generative spheres; but this would not add much difficulty to the work. the reviewer takes a strange view of instinct: he seems to regard intelligence as a developed instinct; which i believe to be wholly false. i suspect he has never much attended to instinct and the minds of animals, except perhaps by reading. my chief object is to ask you if you could procure for me a copy of the "new york times" for wednesday, march th. it contains a very striking review of my book, which i should much like to keep. how curious that the two most striking reviews (i.e. yours and this) should have appeared in america. this review is not really useful, but somehow is impressive. there was a good review in the 'revue des deux mondes,' april st, by m. laugel, said to be a very clever man. hooker, about a fortnight ago, stayed here a few days, and was very pleasant; but i think he overworks himself. what a gigantic undertaking, i imagine, his and bentham's 'genera plantarum' will be! i hope he will not get too much immersed in it, so as not to spare some time for geographical distribution and other such questions. i have begun to work steadily, but very slowly as usual, at details on variation under domestication. my dear gray, yours always truly and gratefully, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, [may th, ]. ... i have sent for the 'canadian naturalist.' if i cannot procure a copy i will borrow yours. i had a letter from henslow this morning, who says that sedgwick was, on last monday night, to open a battery on me at the cambridge philosophical society. anyhow, i am much honoured by being attacked there, and at the royal society of edinburgh. i do not think it worth while to contradict single cases nor is it worth while arguing against those who do not attend to what i state. a moment's reflection will show you that there must be (on our doctrine) large genera not varying (see page on the subject, in the second edition of the 'origin'). though i do not there discuss the case in detail. it may be sheer bigotry for my own notions, but i prefer to the atlantis, my notion of plants and animals having migrated from the old to the new world, or conversely, when the climate was much hotter, by approximately the line of behring's straits. it is most important, as you say, to see living forms of plants going back so far in time. i wonder whether we shall ever discover the flora of the dry land of the coal period, and find it not so anomalous as the swamp or coal-making flora. i am working away over the blessed pigeon manuscript; but, from one cause or another, i get on very slowly... this morning i got a letter from the academy of natural sciences of philadelphia, announcing that i am elected a correspondent... it shows that some naturalists there do not think me such a scientific profligate as many think me here. my dear lyell, yours gratefully, c. darwin. p.s.--what a grand fact about the extinct stag's horn worked by man! charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [may th, ]. my dear hooker, i return henslow, which i was very glad to see. how good of him to defend me. (against sedgwick's attack before the cambridge philosophical society.) i will write and thank him. as you said you were curious to hear thomson's (dr. thomas thomson the indian botanist. he was a collaborateur in hooker and thomson's flora indica. .) opinion, i send his kind letter. he is evidently a strong opposer to us... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [may th, ]. ... how paltry it is in such men as x, y and co. not reading your essay. it is incredibly paltry. (these remarks do not apply to dr. harvey, who was, however, in a somewhat similar position. see below.) they may all attack me to their hearts' content. i am got case-hardened. as for the old fogies in cambridge, it really signifies nothing. i look at their attacks as a proof that our work is worth the doing. it makes me resolve to buckle on my armour. i see plainly that it will be a long uphill fight. but think of lyell's progress with geology. one thing i see most plainly, that without lyell's, yours, huxley's and carpenter's aid, my book would have been a mere flash in the pan. but if we all stick to it, we shall surely gain the day. and i now see that the battle is worth fighting. i deeply hope that you think so. does bentham progress at all? i do not know what to say about oxford. (his health prevented him from going to oxford for the meeting of the british association.) i should like it much with you, but it must depend on health... yours must affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, may th [ ]. my dear lyell, i send a letter from asa gray to show how hotly the battle rages there. also one from wallace, very just in his remarks, though too laudatory and too modest, and how admirably free from envy or jealousy. he must be a good fellow. perhaps i will enclose a letter from thomson of calcutta; not that it is much, but hooker thinks so highly of him... henslow informs me that sedgwick (sedgwick's address is given somewhat abbreviated in "the cambridge chronicle", may th, .) and then professor clarke [sic] (the late william clark, professor of anatomy, my father seems to have misunderstood his informant. i am assured by mr. j.w. clark that his father (prof. clark) did not support sedgwick in the attack.) made a regular and savage onslaught on my book lately at the cambridge philosophical society, but henslow seems to have defended me well, and maintained that the subject was a legitimate one for investigation. since then phillips (john phillips, m.a., f.r.s., born , died , from the effects of a fall. professor of geology at king's college, london, and afterwards at oxford. he gave the 'rede' lecture at cambridge on may th, , on 'the succession of life on the earth.' the rede lecturer is appointed annually by the vice-chancellor, and is paid by an endowment left in by sir robert rede, lord chief justice, in the reign of henry viii.) has given lectures at cambridge on the same subject, but treated it very fairly. how splendidly asa gray is fighting the battle. the effect on me of these multiplied attacks is simply to show me that the subject is worth fighting for, and assuredly i will do my best... i hope all the attacks make you keep up your courage, and courage you assuredly will require... charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, may th, . my dear mr. wallace, i received this morning your letter from amboyna, dated february th, containing some remarks and your too high approval of my book. your letter has pleased me very much, and i most completely agree with you on the parts which are strongest and which are weakest. the imperfection of the geological record is, as you say, the weakest of all; but yet i am pleased to find that there are almost more geological converts than of pursuers of other branches of natural science... i think geologists are more easily converted than simple naturalists, because more accustomed to reasoning. before telling you about the progress of opinion on the subject, you must let me say how i admire the generous manner in which you speak of my book. most persons would in your position have felt some envy or jealousy. how nobly free you seem to be of this common failing of mankind. but you speak far too modestly of yourself. you would, if you had my leisure, have done the work just as well, perhaps better, than i have done it... ... agassiz sends me a personal civil message, but incessantly attacks me; but asa gray fights like a hero in defence. lyell keeps as firm as a tower, and this autumn will publish on the 'geological history of man,' and will then declare his conversion, which now is universally known. i hope that you have received hooker's splendid essay... yesterday i heard from lyell that a german, dr. schaaffhausen (hermann schaaffhausen 'ueber bestandigkeit und umwandlung der arten.' verhandl. d. naturhist. vereins, bonn, . see 'origin,' historical sketch.), has sent him a pamphlet published some years ago, in which the same view is nearly anticipated; but i have not yet seen this pamphlet. my brother, who is a very sagacious man, always said, "you will find that some one will have been before you." i am at work at my larger work, which i shall publish in a separate volume. but from ill-health and swarms of letters, i get on very very slowly. i hope that i shall not have wearied you with these details. with sincere thanks for your letter, and with most deeply felt wishes for your success in science, and in every way, believe me, your sincere well-wisher, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, may nd . my dear gray, again i have to thank you for one of your very pleasant letters of may th, enclosing a very pleasant remittance of pounds. i am in simple truth astonished at all the kind trouble you have taken for me. i return appleton's account. for the chance of your wishing for a formal acknowledgment i send one. if you have any further communication to the appletons, pray express my acknowledgment for [their] generosity; for it is generosity in my opinion. i am not at all surprised at the sale diminishing; my extreme surprise is at the greatness of the sale. no doubt the public has been shamefully imposed on! for they bought the book thinking that it would be nice easy reading. i expect the sale to stop soon in england, yet lyell wrote to me the other day that calling at murray's he heard that fifty copies had gone in the previous forty-eight hours. i am extremely glad that you will notice in 'silliman' the additions in the 'origin.' judging from letters (and i have just seen one from thwaites to hooker), and from remarks, the most serious omission in my book was not explaining how it is, as i believe, that all forms do not necessarily advance, how there can now be simple organisms still existing... i hear there is a very severe review on me in the 'north british,' by a rev. mr. dunns (this statement as to authorship was made on the authority of robert chambers.), a free kirk minister, and dabbler in natural history. i should be very glad to see any good american reviews, as they are all more or less useful. you say that you shall touch on other reviews. huxley told me some time ago that after a time he would write a review on all the reviews, whether he will i know not. if you allude to the 'edinburgh,' pray notice some of the points which i will point out on a separate slip. in the "saturday review" (one of our cleverest periodicals) of may th, page , there is a nice article on [the 'edinburgh'] review, defending huxley, but not hooker; and the latter, i think, [the 'edinburgh' reviewer] treats most ungenerously. (in a letter to mr. huxley my father wrote: "have you seen the last "saturday review"? i am very glad of the defence of you and of myself. i wish the reviewer had noticed hooker. the reviewer, whoever he is, is a jolly good fellow, as this review and the last on me showed. he writes capitally, and understands well his subject. i wish he had slapped [the 'edinburgh' reviewer] a little bit harder.") but surely you will get sick unto death of me and my reviewers. with respect to the theological view of the question. this is always painful to me. i am bewildered. i had no intention to write atheistically. but i own that i cannot see as plainly as others do, and as i should wish to do, evidence of design and beneficence on all sides of us. there seems to me too much misery in the world. i cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent god would have designedly created the ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars, or that a cat should play with mice. not believing this, i see no necessity in the belief that the eye was expressly designed. on the other hand, i cannot anyhow be contented to view this wonderful universe, and especially the nature of man, and to conclude that everything is the result of brute force. i am inclined to look at everything as resulting from designed laws, with the details, whether good or bad, left to the working out of what we may call chance. not that this notion at all satisfies me. i feel most deeply that the whole subject is too profound for the human intellect. a dog might as well speculate on the mind of newton. let each man hope and believe what he can. certainly i agree with you that my views are not at all necessarily atheistical. the lightning kills a man, whether a good one or bad one, owing to the excessively complex action of natural laws. a child (who may turn out an idiot) is born by the action of even more complex laws, and i can see no reason why a man, or other animal, may not have been aboriginally produced by other laws, and that all these laws may have been expressly designed by an omniscient creator, who foresaw every future event and consequence. but the more i think the more bewildered i become; as indeed i probably have shown by this letter. most deeply do i feel your generous kindness and interest. yours sincerely and cordially, charles darwin. {here follow my father's criticisms on the 'edinburgh review'}: "what a quibble to pretend he did not understand what i meant by inhabitants of south america; and any one would suppose that i had not throughout my volume touched on geographical distribution. he ignores also everything which i have said on classification, geological succession, homologies, embryology, and rudimentary organs--page . he falsely applies what i said (too rudely) about "blindness of preconceived opinions" to those who believe in creation, whereas i exclusively apply the remark to those who give up multitudes of species as true species, but believe in the remainder--page . he slightly alters what i say,--i ask whether creationists really believe that elemental atoms have flashed into life. he says that i describe them as so believing, and this, surely, is a difference--page . he speaks of my "clamouring against" all who believe in creation, and this seems to me an unjust accusation--page . he makes me say that the dorsal vertebrae vary; this is simply false: i nowhere say a word about dorsal vertebrae--page . what an illiberal sentence that is about my pretension to candour, and about my rushing through barriers which stopped cuvier: such an argument would stop any progress in science--page . how disingenuous to quote from my remark to you about my brief letter [published in the 'linn. soc. journal'], as if it applied to the whole subject--page . how disingenuous to say that we are called on to accept the theory, from the imperfection of the geological record, when i over and over again [say] how grave a difficulty the imperfection offers--page ."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. my dear hooker, i return harvey's letter, i have been very glad to see the reason why he has not read your essay. i feared it was bigotry, and i am glad to see that he goes a little way (very much further than i supposed) with us... i was not sorry for a natural opportunity of writing to harvey, just to show that i was not piqued at his turning me and my book into ridicule (a "serio-comic squib," read before the 'dublin university zoological and botanical association,' february , , and privately printed. my father's presentation copy is inscribed "with the writer's repentance, october ."), not that i think it was a proceeding which i deserved, or worthy of him. it delights me that you are interested in watching the progress of opinion on the change of species; i feared that you were weary of the subject; and therefore did not send a. gray's letters. the battle rages furiously in the united states. gray says he was preparing a speech, which would take / hours to deliver, and which he "fondly hoped would be a stunner." he is fighting splendidly, and there seems to have been many discussions with agassiz and others at the meetings. agassiz pities me much at being so deluded. as for the progress of opinion, i clearly see that it will be excessively slow, almost as slow as the change of species... i am getting wearied at the storm of hostile reviews and hardly any useful... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, friday night [june st, ]. ... have you seen hopkins (william hopkins died in , "in his sevent-third year." he began life with a farm in suffolk, but ultimately entered, comparatively late in life, at peterhouse, cambridge; he took his degree in , and afterward became an esquire bedell of the university. he was chiefly known as a mathematical "coach," and was eminently successful in the manufacture of senior wranglers. nevertheless mr. stephen says ('life of fawcett,' page ) that he "was conspicuous for inculcating" a "liberal view of the studies of the place. he endeavoured to stimulate a philosophical interest in the mathematical sciences, instead of simply rousing an ardour for competition." he contributed many papers on geological and mathematical subjects to the scientific journals. he had a strong influence for good over the younger men with whom he came in contact. the letter which he wrote to henry fawcett on the occasion of his blindness illustrates this. mr. stephen says ('life of fawcett,' page ) that by "this timely word of good cheer," fawcett was roused from "his temporary prostration," and enabled to take a "more cheerful and resolute tone.") in the new 'fraser'? the public will, i should think, find it heavy. he will be dead against me, as you prophesied; but he is generally civil to me personally. ('fraser's magazine,' june . my father, no doubt, refers to the following passage, page , where the reviewer expresses his "full participation in the high respect in which the author is universally held, both as a man and a naturalist; and the more so, because in the remarks which will follow in the second part of this essay we shall be found to differ widely from him as regards many of his conclusions and the reasonings on which he has founded them, and shall claim the full right to express such differences of opinion with all that freedom which the interests of scientific truth demands, and which we are sure mr. darwin would be one of the last to refuse to any one prepared to exercise it with candour and courtesy." speaking of this review, my father wrote to dr. asa gray: "i have remonstrated with him [hopkins] for so coolly saying that i base my views on what i reckon as great difficulties. any one, by taking these difficulties alone, can make a most strong case against me. i could myself write a more damning review than has as yet appeared!" a second notice by hopkins appeared in the july number of 'fraser's magazine.') on his standard of proof, natural science would never progress, for without the making of theories i am convinced there would be no observation. ... i have begun reading the 'north british' (may .), which so far strikes me as clever. phillips's lecture at cambridge is to be published. all these reiterated attacks will tell heavily; there will be no more converts, and probably some will go back. i hope you do not grow disheartened, i am determined to fight to the last. i hear, however, that the great buckle highly approves of my book. i have had a note from poor blyth (edward blyth, - . his indomitable love of natural history made him neglect the druggist's business with which he started in life, and he soon got into serious difficulties. after supporting himself for a few years as a writer on field natural history, he ultimately went out to india as curator of the museum of the r. asiatic soc. of bengal, where the greater part of his working life was spent. his chief publications were the monthly reports made as part of his duty to the society. he had stored in his remarkable memory a wonderful wealth of knowledge, especially with regard to the mammalia and birds of india--knowledge of which he freely gave to those who asked. his letters to my father give evidence of having been carefully studied, and the long list of entries after his name in the index to 'animals and plants,' show how much help was received from him. his life was an unprosperous and unhappy one, full of money difficulties and darkened by the death of his wife after a few years of marriage.), of calcutta, who is much disappointed at hearing that lord canning will not grant any money; so i much fear that all your great pains will be thrown away. blyth says (and he is in many respects a very good judge) that his ideas on species are quite revolutionised... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, june th [ ]. my dear hooker, it is a pleasure to me to write to you, as i have no one to talk about such matters as we write on. but i seriously beg you not to write to me unless so inclined; for busy as you are, and seeing many people, the case is very different between us... have you seen --'s abusive article on me?... it out does even the 'north british' and 'edinburgh' in misapprehension and misrepresentation. i never knew anything so unfair as in discussing cells of bees, his ignoring the case of melipona, which builds combs almost exactly intermediate between hive and humble bees. what has -- done that he feels so immeasurably superior to all us wretched naturalists, and to all political economists, including that great philosopher malthus? this review, however, and harvey's letter have convinced me that i must be a very bad explainer. neither really understand what i mean by natural selection. i am inclined to give up the attempt as hopeless. those who do not understand, it seems, cannot be made to understand. by the way, i think, we entirely agree, except perhaps that i use too forcible language about selection. i entirely agree, indeed would almost go further than you when you say that climate (i.e. variability from all unknown causes) is "an active handmaid, influencing its mistress most materially." indeed, i have never hinted that natural selection is "the efficient cause to the exclusion of the other," i.e. variability from climate, etc. the very term selection implies something, i.e. variation or difference, to be selected... how does your book progress (i mean your general sort of book on plants), i hope to god you will be more successful than i have been in making people understand your meaning. i should begin to think myself wholly in the wrong, and that i was an utter fool, but then i cannot yet persuade myself, that lyell, and you and huxley, carpenter, asa gray, and watson, etc., are all fools together. well, time will show, and nothing but time. farewell... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, june th [ ]. ... it consoles me that -- sneers at malthus, for that clearly shows, mathematician though he may be, he cannot understand common reasoning. by the way what a discouraging example malthus is, to show during what long years the plainest case may be misrepresented and misunderstood. i have read the 'future'; how curious it is that several of my reviewers should advance such wild arguments, as that varieties of dogs and cats do not mingle; and should bring up the old exploded doctrine of definite analogies... i am beginning to despair of ever making the majority understand my notions. even hopkins does not thoroughly. by the way, i have been so much pleased by the way he personally alludes to me. i must be a very bad explainer. i hope to heaven that you will succeed better. several reviews and several letters have shown me too clearly how little i am understood. i suppose "natural selection" was a bad term; but to change it now, i think, would make confusion worse confounded, nor can i think of a better; "natural preservation" would not imply a preservation of particular varieties, and would seem a truism, and would not bring man's and nature's selection under one point of view. i can only hope by reiterated explanations finally to make the matter clearer. if my ms. spreads out, i think i shall publish one volume exclusively on variation of animals and plants under domestication. i want to show that i have not been quite so rash as many suppose. though weary of reviews, i should like to see lowell's (the late j.a. lowell in the 'christian examiner' (boston, u.s., may, .) some time... i suppose lowell's difficulty about instinct is the same as bowen's; but it seems to me wholly to rest on the assumption that instincts cannot graduate as finely as structures. i have stated in my volume that it is hardly possible to know which, i.e. whether instinct or structure, change first by insensible steps. probably sometimes instinct, sometimes structure. when a british insect feeds on an exotic plant, instinct has changed by very small steps, and their structures might change so as to fully profit by the new food. or structure might change first, as the direction of tusks in one variety of indian elephants, which leads it to attack the tiger in a different manner from other kinds of elephants. thanks for your letter of the nd, chiefly about murray. (n.b. harvey of dublin gives me, in a letter, the argument of tall men marrying short women, as one of great weight!) i do not quite understand what you mean by saying, "that the more they prove that you underrate physical conditions, the better for you, as geology comes in to your aid." ... i see in murray and many others one incessant fallacy, when alluding to slight differences of physical conditions as being very important; namely, oblivion of the fact that all species, except very local ones, range over a considerable area, and though exposed to what the world calls considerable diversities, yet keep constant. i have just alluded to this in the 'origin' in comparing the productions of the old and the new worlds. farewell, shall you be at oxford? if h. gets quite well, perhaps i shall go there. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down [june th, ]. ... lowell's review (j.a. lowell in the 'christian examiner,' may .) is pleasantly written, but it is clear that he is not a naturalist. he quite overlooks the importance of the accumulation of mere individual differences, and which, i think i can show, is the great agency of change under domestication. i have not finished schaaffhausen, as i read german so badly. i have ordered a copy for myself, and should like to keep yours till my own arrives, but will return it to you instantly if wanted. he admits statements rather rashly, as i dare say i do. i see only one sentence as yet at all approaching natural selection. there is a notice of me in the penultimate number of 'all the year round,' but not worth consulting; chiefly a well-done hash of my own words. your last note was very interesting and consolatory to me. i have expressly stated that i believe physical conditions have a more direct effect on plants than on animals. but the more i study, the more i am led to think that natural selection regulates, in a state of nature, most trifling differences. as squared stone, or bricks, or timber, are the indispensable materials for a building, and influence its character, so is variability not only indispensable, but influential. yet in the same manner as the architect is the all important person in a building, so is selection with organic bodies... [the meeting of the british association at oxford in is famous for two pitched battles over the 'origin of species.' both of them originated in unimportant papers. on thursday, june , dr. daubeny of oxford made a communication to section d: "on the final causes of the sexuality of plants, with particular reference to mr. darwin's work on the 'origin of species.'" mr. huxley was called on by the president, but tried (according to the "athenaeum" report) to avoid a discussion, on the ground "that a general audience, in which sentiment would unduly interfere with intellect, was not the public before which such a discussion should be carried on." however, the subject was not allowed to drop. sir r. owen (i quote from the "athenaeum", july , ), who "wished to approach this subject in the spirit of the philosopher," expressed his "conviction that there were facts by which the public could come to some conclusion with regard to the probabilities of the truth of mr. darwin's theory." he went on to say that the brain of the gorilla "presented more differences, as compared with the brain of man, than it did when compared with the brains of the very lowest and most problematical of the quadrumana." mr. huxley replied, and gave these assertions a "direct and unqualified contradiction," pledging himself to "justify that unusual procedure elsewhere" ('man's place in nature,' by t.h. huxley, , page .), a pledge which he amply fulfilled. (see the 'nat. hist. review,' .) on friday there was peace, but on saturday th, the battle arose with redoubled fury over a paper by dr. draper of new york, on the 'intellectual development of europe considered with reference to the views of mr. darwin.' the following account is from an eye-witness of the scene. "the excitement was tremendous. the lecture-room, in which it had been arranged that the discussion should be held, proved far too small for the audience, and the meeting adjourned to the library of the museum, which was crammed to suffocation long before the champions entered the lists. the numbers were estimated at from to . had it been term-time, or had the general public been admitted, it would have been impossible to have accommodated the rush to hear the oratory of the bold bishop. professor henslow, the president of section d, occupied the chair and wisely announced in limine that none who had not valid arguments to bring forward on one side or the other, would be allowed to address the meeting: a caution that proved necessary, for no fewer than four combatants had their utterances burked by him, because of their indulgence in vague declamation. "the bishop was up to time, and spoke for full half-an-hour with inimitable spirit, emptiness and unfairness. it was evident from his handling of the subject that he had been 'crammed' up to the throat, and that he knew nothing at first hand; in fact, he used no argument not to be found in his 'quarterly' article. he ridiculed darwin badly, and huxley savagely, but all in such dulcet tones, so persuasive a manner, and in such well-turned periods, that i who had been inclined to blame the president for allowing a discussion that could serve no scientific purpose now forgave him from the bottom of my heart. unfortunately the bishop, hurried along on the current of his own eloquence, so far forgot himself as to push his attempted advantage to the verge of personality in a telling passage in which he turned round and addressed huxley: i forgot the precise words, and quote from lyell. 'the bishop asked whether huxley was related by his grandfather's or grandmother's side to an ape.' (lyell's 'letters,' vol. ii. page .) huxley replied to the scientific argument of his opponent with force and eloquence, and to the personal allusion with a sel-restraint, that gave dignity to his crushing rejoinder." many versions of mr. huxley's speech were current: the following report of his conclusion is from a letter addressed by the late john richard green, then an undergraduate, to a fellow-student, now professor boyd dawkins. "i asserted, and i repeat, that a man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. if there were an ancestor whom i should feel shame in recalling, it would be a man, a man of restless and versatile intellect, who, not content with an equivocal (prof. v. carus, who has a distinct recollection of the scene, does not remember the word equivocal. he believes too that lyell's version of the "ape" sentence is slightly incorrect.) success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digressions, and skilled appeals to religious prejudice." the letter above quoted continues: "the excitement was now at its height; a lady fainted and had to be carried out, and it was some time before the discussion was resumed. some voices called for hooker, and his name having been handed up, the president invited him to give his view of the theory from the botanical side. this he did, demonstrating that the bishop, by his own showing, had never grasped the principles of the 'origin' (with regard to the bishop's 'quarterly review,' my father wrote: "these very clever men think they can write a review with a very slight knowledge of the book reviewed or subject in question."), and that he was absolutely ignorant of the elements of botanical science. the bishop made no reply, and the meeting broke up. "there was a crowded conversazione in the evening at the rooms of the hospitable and genial professor of botany, dr. daubeny, where the almost sole topic was the battle of the 'origin,' and i was much struck with the fair and unprejudiced way in which the black coats and white cravats of oxford discussed the question, and the frankness with which they offered their congratulations to the winners in the combat.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. sudbrook park, monday night [july nd, ]. my dear hooker, i have just received your letter. i have been very poorly, with almost continuous bad headache for forty-eight hours, and i was low enough, and thinking what a useless burthen i was to myself and all others, when your letter came, and it has so cheered me; your kindness and affection brought tears into my eyes. talk of fame, honour, pleasure, wealth, all are dirt compared with affection; and this is a doctrine with which, i know, from your letter, that you will agree with from the bottom of your heart... how i should have liked to have wandered about oxford with you, if i had been well enough; and how still more i should have liked to have heard you triumphing over the bishop. i am astonished at your success and audacity. it is something unintelligible to me how any one can argue in public like orators do. i had no idea you had this power. i have read lately so many hostile views, that i was beginning to think that perhaps i was wholly in the wrong, and that -- was right when he said the whole subject would be forgotten in ten years; but now that i hear that you and huxley will fight publicly (which i am sure i never could do), i fully believe that our cause will, in the long-run, prevail. i am glad i was not in oxford, for i should have been overwhelmed, with my [health] in its present state. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. sudbrook park, richmond, july rd [ ]. ... i had a letter from oxford, written by hooker late on sunday night, giving me some account of the awful battles which have raged about species at oxford. he tells me you fought nobly with owen (but i have heard no particulars), and that you answered the b. of o. capitally. i often think that my friends (and you far beyond others) have good cause to hate me, for having stirred up so much mud, and led them into so much odious trouble. if i had been a friend of myself, i should have hated me. (how to make that sentence good english, i know not.) but remember, if i had not stirred up the mud, some one else certainly soon would. i honour your pluck; i would as soon have died as tried to answer the bishop in such an assembly... [on july th, my father wrote to mr. huxley: "from all that i hear from several quarters, it seems that oxford did the subject great good. it is of enormous importance, the showing the world that a few first-rate men are not afraid of expressing their opinion."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. [july ]. ... i have just read the 'quarterly.' ('quarterly review,' july . the article in question was by wilberforce, bishop of oxford, and was afterwards published in his "essays contributed to the 'quarterly review,' ." the passage from the 'anti-jacobin' gives the history of the evolution of space from the "primaeval point or punctum saliens of the universe," which is conceived to have moved "forward in a right line ad infinitum, till it grew tired; after which the right line, which it had generated, would begin to put itself in motion in a lateral direction, describing an area of infinite extent. this area, as soon as it became conscious of its own existence, would begin to ascend or descend according as its specific gravity would determine it, forming an immense solid space filled with vacuum, and capable of containing the present universe." the following (page ) may serve as an example of the passages in which the reviewer refers to sir charles lyell:--"that mr. darwin should have wandered from this broad highway of nature's works into the jungle of fanciful assumption is no small evil. we trust that he is mistaken in believing that he may count sir c. lyell as one of his converts. we know, indeed, that the strength of the temptations which he can bring to bear upon his geological brother... yet no man has been more distinct and more logical in the denial of the transmutation of species than sir c. lyell, and that not in the infancy of his scientific life, but in its full vigour and maturity." the bishop goes on to appeal to lyell, in order that with his help "this flimsy speculation may be as completely put down as was what in spite of all denials we must venture to call its twin though less instructed brother, the 'vestiges of creation.'" with reference to this article, mr. brodie innes, my father's old friend and neighbour, writes:--"most men would have been annoyed by an article written with the bishop's accustomed vigour, a mixture of argument and ridicule. mr. darwin was writing on some parish matter, and put a postscript--'if you have not seen the last 'quarterly,' do get it; the bishop of oxford has made such capital fun of me and my grandfather.' by a curious coincidence, when i received the letter, i was staying in the same house with the bishop, and showed it to him. he said, 'i am very glad he takes it in that way, he is such a capital fellow.'") it is uncommonly clever; it picks out with skill all the most conjectural parts, and brings forward well all the difficulties. it quizzes me quite splendidly by quoting the 'anti-jacobin' versus my grandfather. you are not alluded to, nor, strange to say, huxley; and i can plainly see, here and there, --'s hand. the concluding pages will make lyell shake in his shoes. by jove, if he sticks to us, he will be a real hero. good-night. your wel-quizzed, but not sorrowful, and affectionate friend. c.d. i can see there has been some queer tampering with the review, for a page has been cut out and reprinted. [writing on july to dr. asa gray my father thus refers to lyell's position:-- "considering his age, his former views and position in society, i think his conduct has been heroic on this subject."] charles darwin to asa gray. [hartfield, sussex] july nd [ ]. my dear gray, owing to absence from home at water-cure and then having to move my sick girl to whence i am now writing, i have only lately read the discussion in proc. american acad. (april , . dr. gray criticised in detail "several of the positions taken at the preceding meeting by mr. [j.a.] lowell, prof. bowen and prof. agassiz." it was reprinted in the "athenaeum", august , .), and now i cannot resist expressing my sincere admiration of your most clear powers of reasoning. as hooker lately said in a note to me, you are more than any one else the thorough master of the subject. i declare that you know my book as well as i do myself; and bring to the question new lines of illustration and argument in a manner which excites my astonishment and almost my envy! i admire these discussions, i think, almost more than your article in silliman's journal. every single word seems weighed carefully, and tells like a -pound shot. it makes me much wish (but i know that you have not time) that you could write more in detail, and give, for instance, the facts on the variability of the american wild fruits. the "athenaeum" has the largest circulation, and i have sent my copy to the editor with a request that he would republish the first discussion; i much fear he will not, as he reviewed the subject in so hostile a spirit... i shall be curious [to see] and will order the august number, as soon as i know that it contains your review of reviews. my conclusion is that you have made a mistake in being a botanist, you ought to have been a lawyer. ... henslow (professor henslow was mentioned in the december number of 'macmillan's magazine' as being an adherent of evolution. in consequence of this he published, in the february number of the following year, a letter defining his position. this he did by means of an extract from a letter addressed to him by the rev. l. jenyns (blomefield) which "very nearly," as he says, expressed his views. mr. blomefield wrote, "i was not aware that you had become a convert to his (darwin's) theory, and can hardly suppose you have accepted it as a whole, though, like myself, you may go to the length of imagining that many of the smaller groups, both of animals and plants, may at some remote period have had a common parentage. i do not with some say that the whole of his theory cannot be true--but that it is very far from proved; and i doubt its ever being possible to prove it.") and daubeny are shaken. i hear from hooker that he hears from hochstetter that my views are making very considerable progress in germany, and the good workers are discussing the question. bronn at the end of his translation has a chapter of criticism, but it is such difficult german that i have not yet read it. hopkins's review in 'fraser' is thought the best which has appeared against us. i believe that hopkins is so much opposed because his course of study has never led him to reflect much on such subjects as geographical distribution, classification, homologies, etc., so that he does not feel it a relief to have some kind of explanation. charles darwin to c. lyell. hartfield [sussex], july th [ ]. ... i had lots of pleasant letters about the british association, and our side seems to have got on very well. there has been as much discussion on the other side of the atlantic as on this. no one i think understands the whole case better than asa gray, and he has been fighting nobly. he is a capital reasoner. i have sent one of his printed discussions to our "athenaeum", and the editor says he will print it. the 'quarterly' has been out some time. it contains no malice, which is wonderful... it makes me say many things which i do not say. at the end it quotes all your conclusions against lamarck, and makes a solemn appeal to you to keep firm in the true faith. i fancy it will make you quake a little. -- has ingeniously primed the bishop (with murchison) against you as head of the uniformitarians. the only other review worth mentioning, which i can think of, is in the third no. of the 'london review,' by some geologist, and favorable for a wonder. it is very ably done, and i should like much to know who is the author. i shall be very curious to hear on your return whether bronn's german translation of the 'origin' has drawn any attention to the subject. huxley is eager about a 'natural history review,' which he and others are going to edit, and he has got so many first-rate assistants, that i really believe he will make it a first-rate production. i have been doing nothing, except a little botanical work as amusement. i shall hereafter be very anxious to hear how your tour has answered. i expect your book on the geological history of man will, with a vengeance, be a bomb-shell. i hope it will not be very long delayed. our kindest remembrances to lady lyell. this is not worth sending, but i have nothing better to say. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to f. watkins. (see volume i.) down, july th, [ ?]. my dear watkins, your note gave me real pleasure. leading the retired life which i do, with bad health, i oftener think of old times than most men probably do; and your face now rises before me, with the pleasant old expression, as vividly as if i saw you. my book has been well abused, praised, and splendidly quizzed by the bishop of oxford; but from what i see of its influence on really good workers in science, i feel confident that, in the main, i am on the right road. with respect to your question, i think the arguments are valid, showing that all animals have descended from four or five primordial forms; and that analogy and weak reasons go to show that all have descended from some single prototype. farewell, my old friend. i look back to old cambridge days with unalloyed pleasure. believe me, yours most sincerely, charles darwin. t.h. huxley to charles darwin. august th, . my dear darwin, i have to announce a new and great ally for you... von baer writes to me thus:--et outre cela, je trouve que vous ecrivez encore des redactions. vous avez ecrit sur l'ouvrage de m. darwin une critique dont je n'ai trouve que des debris dans un journal allemand. j'ai oublie le nom terrible du journal anglais dans lequel se trouve votre recension. en tout cas aussi je ne peux pas trouver le journal ici. comme je m'interesse beaucoup pour les idees de m. darwin, sur lesquelles j'ai parle publiquement et sur lesquelles je ferai peut-etre imprimer quelque chose--vous m'obligeriez infiniment si vous pourriez me faire parvenir ce que vous avez ecrit sur ces idees. "j'ai enonce les memes idees sur la transformation des types ou origine d'especes que m. darwin. (see vol. i.) mais c'est seulement sur la geographie zoologique que je m'appuie. vous trouverez, dans le dernier chapitre du traite 'ueber papuas und alfuren,' que j'en parle tres decidement sans savoir que m. darwin s'occupait de cet objet." the treatise to which von baer refers he gave me when over here, but i have not been able to lay hands on it since this letter reached me two days ago. when i find it i will let you know what there is in it. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, august [ ]. my dear huxley, your note contained magnificent news, and thank you heartily for sending it me. von baer weighs down with a vengeance all the virulence of [the 'edinburgh' reviewer] and weak arguments of agassiz. if you write to von baer, for heaven's sake tell him that we should think one nod of approbation on our side, of the greatest value; and if he does write anything, beg him to send us a copy, for i would try and get it translated and published in the "athenaeum" and in 'silliman' to touch up agassiz... have you seen agassiz's weak metaphysical and theological attack on the 'origin' in the last 'silliman'? (the 'american journal of science and arts' (commonly called 'silliman's journal'), july . printed from advanced sheets of vol. iii. of 'contributions to the nat. hist. of the u.s.' my father's copy has a pencilled "truly" opposite the following passage:--"unless darwin and his followers succeed in showing that the struggle for life tends to something beyond favouring the existence of certain individuals over that of other individuals, they will soon find that they are following a shadow.") i would send it you, but apprehend it would be less trouble for you to look at it in london than return it to me. r. wagner has sent me a german pamphlet ('louis agassiz's prinzipien der classification, etc., mit rucksicht auf darwins ansichten. separat-abdruck aus den gottingischen gelehrten anzeigen,' .), giving an abstract of agassiz's 'essay on classification,' "mit rucksicht auf darwins ansichten," etc. etc. he won't go very "dangerous lengths," but thinks the truth lies half-way between agassiz and the 'origin.' as he goes thus far he will, nolens volens, have to go further. he says he is going to review me in [his] yearly report. my good and kind agent for the propagation of the gospel--i.e. the devil's gospel. ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, august th [ ]. ... i have laughed at woodward thinking that you were a man who could be influenced in your judgment by the voice of the public; and yet after mortally sneering at him, i was obliged to confess to myself, that i had had fears, what the effect might be of so many heavy guns fired by great men. as i have (sent by murray) a spare 'quarterly review,' i send it by this post, as it may amuse you. the anti-jacobin part amused me. it is full of errors, and hooker is thinking of answering it. there has been a cancelled page; i should like to know what gigantic blunder it contained. hooker says that -- has played on the bishop, and made him strike whatever note he liked; he has wished to make the article as disagreeable to you as possible. i will send the "athenaeum" in a day or two. as you wish to hear what reviews have appeared, i may mention that agassiz has fired off a shot in the last 'silliman,' not good at all, denies variations and rests on the perfection of geological evidence. asa gray tells me that a very clever friend has been almost converted to our side by this review of agassiz's... professor parsons (theophilus parsons, professor of law in harvard university.) has published in the same 'silliman' a speculative paper correcting my notions, worth nothing. in the 'highland agricultural journal' there is a review by some entomologist, not worth much. this is all that i can remember... as huxley says, the platoon firing must soon cease. hooker and huxley, and asa gray, i see, are determined to stick to the battle and not give in; i am fully convinced that whenever you publish, it will produce a great effect on all trimmers, and on many others. by the way i forgot to mention daubeny's pamphlet ('remarks on the final causes of the sexuality of plants with particular reference to mr. darwin's work on the "origin of species."'--british association report, .), very liberal and candid, but scientifically weak. i believe hooker is going nowhere this summer; he is excessively busy... he has written me many, most nice letters. i shall be very curious to hear on your return some account of your geological doings. talking of geology, you used to be interested about the "pipes" in the chalk. about three years ago a perfectly circular hole suddenly appeared in a flat grass field to everyone's astonishment, and was filled up with many waggon loads of earth; and now two or three days ago, again it has circularly subsided about two feet more. how clearly this shows what is still slowly going on. this morning i recommenced work, and am at dogs; when i have written my short discussion on them, i will have it copied, and if you like, you can then see how the argument stands, about their multiple origin. as you seemed to think this important, it might be worth your reading; though i do not feel sure that you will come to the same probable conclusion that i have done. by the way, the bishop makes a very telling case against me, by accumulating several instances where i speak very doubtfully; but this is very unfair, as in such cases as this of the dog, the evidence is and must be very doubtful... charles darwin to asa gray. down, august [ ]. my dear gray, on my return home from sussex about a week ago, i found several articles sent by you. the first article, from the 'atlantic monthly,' i am very glad to possess. by the way, the editor of the "athenaeum" (august , .) has inserted your answer to agassiz, bowen, and co., and when i therein read them, i admired them even more than at first. they really seemed to be admirable in their condensation, force, clearness and novelty. i am surprised that agassiz did not succeed in writing something better. how absurd that logical quibble--"if species do not exist, how can they vary?" as if any one doubted their temporary existence. how coolly he assumes that there is some clearly defined distinction between individual differences and varieties. it is no wonder that a man who calls identical forms, when found in two countries, distinct species, cannot find variation in nature. again, how unreasonable to suppose that domestic varieties selected by man for his own fancy should resemble natural varieties or species. the whole article seems to me poor; it seems to me hardly worth a detailed answer (even if i could do it, and i much doubt whether i possess your skill in picking out salient points and driving a nail into them), and indeed you have already answered several points. agassiz's name, no doubt, is a heavy weight against us... if you see professor parsons, will you thank him for the extremely liberal and fair spirit in which his essay ('silliman's journal,' july, .) is written. please tell him that i reflected much on the chance of favourable monstrosities (i.e. great and sudden variation) arising. i have, of course, no objection to this, indeed it would be a great aid, but i do not allude to the subject, for, after much labour, i could find nothing which satisfied me of the probability of such occurrences. there seems to me in almost every case too much, too complex, and too beautiful adaptation, in every structure, to believe in its sudden production. i have alluded under the head of beautifully hooked seeds to such possibility. monsters are apt to be sterile, or not to transmit monstrous peculiarities. look at the fineness of gradation in the shells of successive sub-stages of the same great formation; i could give many other considerations which made me doubt such view. it holds, to a certain extent, with domestic productions no doubt, where man preserves some abrupt change in structure. it amused me to see sir r. murchison quoted as a judge of affinities of animals, and it gave me a cold shudder to hear of any one speculating about a true crustacean giving birth to a true fish! (parson's, loc. cit. page , speaking of pterichthys and cephalaspis, says:--"now is it too much to infer from these facts that either of these animals, if a crustacean, was so nearly a fish that some of its ova may have become fish; or, if itself a fish, was so nearly a crustacean that it may have been born from the ovum of a crustacean?") yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, september st [ ]. my dear lyell, i have been much interested by your letter of the th, received this morning. it has delighted me, because it demonstrates that you have thought a good deal lately on natural selection. few things have surprised me more than the entire paucity of objections and difficulties new to me in the published reviews. your remarks are of a different stamp and new to me. i will run through them, and make a few pleadings such as occur to me. i put in the possibility of the galapagos having been continuously joined to america, out of mere subservience to the many who believe in forbes's doctrine, and did not see the danger of admission, about small mammals surviving there in such case. the case of the galapagos, from certain facts on littoral sea-shells (viz. pacific ocean and south american littoral species), in fact convinced me more than in any other case of other islands, that the galapagos had never been continuously united with the mainland; it was mere base subservience, and terror of hooker and co. with respect to atolls, i think mammals would hardly survive very long, even if the main islands (for as i have said in the coral book, the outline of groups of atolls do not look like a former continent) had been tenanted by mammals, from the extremely small area, the very peculiar conditions, and the probability that during subsidence all or nearly all atolls have been breached and flooded by the sea many times during their existence as atolls. i cannot conceive any existing reptile being converted into a mammal. from homologies i should look at it as certain that all mammals had descended from some single progenitor. what its nature was, it is impossible to speculate. more like, probably, the ornithorhynchus or echidna than any known form; as these animals combine reptilian characters (and in a less degree bird character) with mammalian. we must imagine some form as intermediate, as is lepidosiren now, between reptiles and fish, between mammals and birds on the one hand (for they retain longer the same embryological character) and reptiles on the other hand. with respect to a mammal not being developed on any island, besides want of time for so prodigious a development, there must have arrived on the island the necessary and peculiar progenitor, having a character like the embryo of a mammal; and not an already developed reptile, bird or fish. we might give to a bird the habits of a mammal, but inheritance would retain almost for eternity some of the bird-like structure, and prevent a new creature ranking as a true mammal. i have often speculated on antiquity of islands, but not with your precision, or at all under the point of view of natural selection not having done what might have been anticipated. the argument of littoral miocene shells at the canary islands is new to me. i was deeply impressed (from the amount of the denudation) [with the] antiquity of st. helena, and its age agrees with the peculiarity of the flora. with respect to bats at new zealand (n.b. there are two or three european bats in madeira, and i think in the canary islands) not having given rise to a group of non-volant bats, it is, now you put the case, surprising; more especially as the genus of bats in new zealand is very peculiar, and therefore has probably been long introduced, and they now speak of cretacean fossils there. but the first necessary step has to be shown, namely, of a bat taking to feed on the ground, or anyhow, and anywhere, except in the air. i am bound to confess i do know one single such fact, viz. of an indian species killing frogs. observe, that in my wretched polar bear case, i do show the first step by which conversion into a whale "would be easy," "would offer no difficulty"!! so with seals, i know of no fact showing any the least incipient variation of seals feeding on the shore. moreover, seals wander much; i searched in vain, and could not find one case of any species of seal confined to any islands. and hence wanderers would be apt to cross with individuals undergoing any change on an island, as in the case of land birds of madeira and bermuda. the same remark applies even to bats, as they frequently come to bermuda from the mainland, though about miles distant. with respect to the amblyrhynchus of the galapagos, one may infer as probable, from marine habits being so rare with saurians, and from the terrestrial species being confined to a few central islets, that its progenitor first arrived at the galapagos; from what country it is impossible to say, as its affinity i believe is not very clear to any known species. the offspring of the terrestrial species was probably rendered marine. now in this case i do not pretend i can show variation in habits; but we have in the terrestrial species a vegetable feeder (in itself a rather unusual circumstance), largely on lichens, and it would not be a great change for its offspring to feed first on littoral algae and then on submarine algae. i have said what i can in defence, but yours is a good line of attack. we should, however, always remember that no change will ever be effected till a variation in the habits or structure or of both chance to occur in the right direction, so as to give the organism in question an advantage over other already established occupants of land or water, and this may be in any particular case indefinitely long. i am very glad you will read my dogs ms., for it will be important to me to see what you think of the balance of evidence. after long pondering on a subject it is often hard to judge. with hearty thanks for your most interesting letter. farewell. my dear old master, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, september nd [ ]. my dear hooker, i am astounded at your news received this morning. i am become such an old fogy that i am amazed at your spirit. for god's sake do not go and get your throat cut. bless my soul, i think you must be a little insane. i must confess it will be a most interesting tour; and, if you get to the top of lebanon, i suppose extremely interesting--you ought to collect any beetles under stones there; but the entomologists are such slow coaches. i dare say no result could be made out of them. [they] have never worked the alpines of britain. if you come across any brine lakes, do attend to their minute flora and fauna; i have often been surprised how little this has been attended to. i have had a long letter from lyell, who starts ingenious difficulties opposed to natural selection, because it has not done more than it has. this is very good, as it shows that he has thoroughly mastered the subject; and shows he is in earnest. very striking letter altogether and it rejoices the cockles of my heart. ... how i shall miss you, my best and kindest of friends. god bless you. yours ever affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, september [ ]. ... you will be weary of my praise, but it (dr. gray in the 'atlantic monthly' for july, .) does strike me as quite admirably argued, and so well and pleasantly written. your many metaphors are inimitably good. i said in a former letter that you were a lawyer, but i made a gross mistake, i am sure that you are a poet. no, by jove, i will tell you what you are, a hybrid, a complex cross of lawyer, poet, naturalist and theologian! was there ever such a monster seen before? i have just looked through the passages which i have marked as appearing to me extra good, but i see that they are too numerous to specify, and this is no exaggeration. my eye just alights on the happy comparison of the colours of the prism and our artificial groups. i see one little error of fossil cattle in south america. it is curious how each one, i suppose, weighs arguments in a different balance: embryology is to me by far the strongest single class of facts in favour of change of forms, and not one, i think, of my reviewers has alluded to this. variation not coming on at a very early age, and being inherited at not a very early corresponding period, explains, as it seems to me, the grandest of all facts in natural history, or rather in zoology, viz. the resemblance of embryos. [dr. gray wrote three articles in the 'atlantic monthly' for july, august, and october, which were reprinted as a pamphlet in , and now form chapter iii. in 'darwiniana' ( ), with the heading 'natural selection not inconsistent with natural theology.'] charles darwin to c. lyell down, september th [ ]. my dear lyell, i never thought of showing your letter to any one. i mentioned in a letter to hooker that i had been much interested by a letter of yours with original objections, founded chiefly on natural selection not having done so much as might have been expected... in your letter just received, you have improved your case versus natural selection; and it would tell with the public (do not be tempted by its novelty to make it too strong); yet is seems to me, not really very killing, though i cannot answer your case, especially, why rodents have not become highly developed in australia. you must assume that they have inhabited australia for a very long period, and this may or may not be the case. but i feel that our ignorance is so profound, why one form is preserved with nearly the same structure, or advances in organisation or even retrogrades, or becomes extinct, that i cannot put very great weight on the difficulty. then, as you say often in your letter, we know not how many geological ages it may have taken to make any great advance in organisation. remember monkeys in the eocene formations: but i admit that you have made out an excellent objection and difficulty, and i can give only unsatisfactory and quite vague answers, such as you have yourself put; however, you hardly put weight enough on the absolute necessity of variations first arising in the right direction, videlicet, of seals beginning to feed on the shore. i entirely agree with what you say about only one species of many becoming modified. i remember this struck me much when tabulating the varieties of plants, and i have a discussion somewhere on this point. it is absolutely implied in my ideas of classification and divergence that only one or two species, of even large genera, give birth to new species; and many whole genera become wholly extinct... please see page of the 'origin.' but i cannot remember that i have stated in the 'origin' the fact of only very few species in each genus varying. you have put the view much better in your letter. instead of saying, as i often have, that very few species vary at the same time, i ought to have said, that very few species of a genus ever vary so as to become modified; for this is the fundamental explanation of classification, and is shown in my engraved diagram... i quite agree with you on the strange and inexplicable fact of ornithorhynchus having been preserved, and australian trigonia, or the silurian lingula. i always repeat to myself that we hardly know why any one single species is rare or common in the best-known countries. i have got a set of notes somewhere on the inhabitants of fresh water; and it is singular how many of these are ancient, or intermediate forms; which i think is explained by the competition having been less severe, and the rate of change of organic forms having been slower in small confined areas, such as all the fresh waters make compared with sea or land. i see that you do allude in the last page, as a difficulty, to marsupials not having become placentals in australia; but this i think you have no right at all to expect; for we ought to look at marsupials and placentals as having descended from some intermediate and lower form. the argument of rodents not having become highly developed in australia (supposing that they have long existed there) is much stronger. i grieve to see you hint at the creation "of distinct successive types, as well as of a certain number of distinct aboriginal types." remember, if you admit this, you give up the embryological argument (the weightiest of all to me), and the morphological or homological argument. you cut my throat, and your own throat; and i believe will live to be sorry for it. so much for species. the striking extract which e. copied was your own writing!! in a note to me, many long years ago--which she copied and sent to mme. sismondi; and lately my aunt, in sorting her letters, found e.'s and returned them to her... i have been of late shamefully idle, i.e. observing (drosera) instead of writing, and how much better fun observing is than writing. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. marine parade, eastbourne, sunday [september rd, ]. my dear lyell, i got your letter of the th just before starting here. you speak of saving me trouble in answering. never think of this, for i look at every letter of yours as an honour and pleasure, which is a pretty deal more than i can say of some of the letters which i receive. i have now one of closely written folio pages to answer on species!... i have a very decided opinion that all mammals must have descended from a single parent. reflect on the multitude of details, very many of them of extremely little importance to their habits (as the number of bones of the head, etc., covering of hair, identical embryological development, etc. etc.). now this large amount of similarity i must look at as certainly due to inheritance from a common stock. i am aware that some cases occur in which a similar or nearly similar organ has been acquired by independent acts of natural selection. but in most of such cases of these apparently so closely similar organs, some important homological difference may be detected. please read page , beginning, "the electric organs," and trust me that the sentence, "in all these cases of two very distinct species," etc. etc., was not put in rashly, for i went carefully into every case. apply this argument to the whole frame, internal and external, of mammifers, and you will see why i think so strongly that all have descended from one progenitor. i have just re-read your letter, and i am not perfectly sure that i understand your point. i enclose two diagrams showing the sort of manner i conjecture that mammals have been developed. i thought a little on this when writing page , beginning, "mr. waterhouse." (please read the paragraph.) i have not knowledge enough to choose between these two diagrams. if the brain of marsupials in embryo closely resembles that of placentals, i should strongly prefer no. , and this agrees with the antiquity of microlestes. as a general rule i should prefer no. diagram; whether or not marsupials have gone on being developed, or rising in rank, from a very early period would depend on circumstances too complex for even a conjecture. lingula has not risen since the silurian epoch, whereas other molluscs may have risen. here appear two diagrams. diagram i. a - mammals, not true marsupials nor true placentals. - branches - branch i, true placental, from which branch off rodents, insectivora, a branch terminating in ruminants and pachyderms, canidae and terminates in quadrumana. - branch ii, true marsupial, from which branches off kangaroo family an unnamed branch terminating in unnamed branches and terminates in didelphys family. diagram ii. a - true marsupials, lowly developed. - true marsupials, highly developed. - branches - branch i, placentals, from which branch off rodents, insectivora, a branch terminating in ruminants and pachyderms, canidae and terminates in quadrumana. - branch ii, present marsupials, splitting into two branches terminating in kangaroo family (with unnamed branches) and didelphys family. a, in the two diagrams, represents an unknown form, probably intermediate between mammals, reptiles, and birds, as intermediate as lepidosiren now is between fish and batrachians. this unknown form is probably more closely related to ornithorhynchus than to any other known form. i do not think that the multiple origin of dogs goes against the single origin of man... all the races of man are so infinitely closer together than to any ape, that (as in the case of descent of all mammals from one progenitor), i should look at all races of men as having certainly descended from one parent. i should look at it as probable that the races of men were less numerous and less divergent formerly than now, unless, indeed, some lower and more aberrant race even than the hottentot has become extinct. supposing, as i do for one believe, that our dogs have descended from two or three wolves, jackals, etc., yet these have, on our view, descended from a single remote unknown progenitor. with domestic dogs the question is simply whether the whole amount of difference has been produced since man domesticated a single species; or whether part of the difference arises in the state of nature. agassiz and co. think the negro and caucasian are now distinct species, and it is a mere vain discussion whether, when they were rather less distinct, they would, on this standard of specific value, deserve to be called species. i agree with your answer which you give to yourself on this point; and the simile of man now keeping down any new man which might be developed, strikes me as good and new. the white man is "improving off the face of the earth" even races nearly his equals. with respect to islands, i think i would trust to want of time alone, and not to bats and rodents. n.b.--i know of no rodents on oceanic islands (except my galapagos mouse, which may have been introduced by man) keeping down the development of other classes. still much more weight i should attribute to there being now, neither in islands nor elsewhere, [any] known animals of a grade of organisation intermediate between mammals, fish, reptiles, etc., whence a new mammal could be developed. if every vertebrate were destroyed throughout the world, except our now well-established reptiles, millions of ages might elapse before reptiles could become highly developed on a scale equal to mammals; and, on the principle of inheritance, they would make some quite new class, and not mammals; though possibly more intellectual! i have not an idea that you will care for this letter, so speculative. most truly yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, september [ ]. ... i have had a letter of fourteen folio pages from harvey against my book, with some ingenious and new remarks; but it is an extraordinary fact that he does not understand at all what i mean by natural selection. i have begged him to read the dialogue in next 'silliman,' as you never touch the subject without making it clearer. i look at it as even more extraordinary that you never say a word or use an epithet which does not express fully my meaning. now lyell, hooker, and others, who perfectly understand my book, yet sometimes use expressions to which i demur. well, your extraordinary labour is over; if there is any fair amount of truth in my view, i am well assured that your great labour has not been thrown away... i yet hope and almost believe, that the time will come when you will go further, in believing a very large amount of modification of species, than you did at first or do now. can you tell me whether you believe further or more firmly than you did at first? i should really like to know this. i can perceive in my immense correspondence with lyell, who objected to much at first, that he has, perhaps unconsciousnessly to himself, converted himself very much during the last six months, and i think this is the case even with hooker. this fact gives me far more confidence than any other fact. charles darwin to c. lyell. marine parade, eastbourne, friday evening [september th, ]. ... i am very glad to hear about the germans reading my book. no one will be converted who has not independently begun to doubt about species. is not krohn (there are two papers by aug. krohn, one on the cement glands, and the other on the development of cirripedes, 'wiegmann's archiv,' xxv. and xxvi. my father has remarked that he "blundered dreadfully about the cement glands," 'autobiography.') a good fellow? i have long meant to write to him. he has been working at cirripedes, and has detected two or three gigantic blunders,... about which, i thank heaven, i spoke rather doubtfully. such difficult dissection that even huxley failed. it is chiefly the interpretation which i put on parts that is so wrong, and not the parts which i describe. but they were gigantic blunders, and why i say all this is because krohn, instead of crowing at all, pointed out my errors with the utmost gentleness and pleasantness. i have always meant to write to him and thank him. i suppose dr. krohn, bonn, would reach him. i cannot see yet how the multiple origin of dog can be properly brought as argument for the multiple origin of man. is not your feeling a remnant of the deeply impressed one on all our minds, that a species is an entity, something quite distinct from a variety? is it not that the dog case injures the argument from fertility, so that one main argument that the races of man are varieties and not species--i.e., because they are fertile inter se, is much weakened? i quite agree with what hooker says, that whatever variation is possible under culture, is possible under nature; not that the same form would ever be accumulated and arrived at by selection for man's pleasure, and by natural selection for the organism's own good. talking of "natural selection;" if i had to commence de novo, i would have used "natural preservation." for i find men like harvey of dublin cannot understand me, though he has read the book twice. dr. gray of the british museum remarked to me that, "selection was obviously impossible with plants! no one could tell him how it could be possible!" and he may now add that the author did not attempt it to him! yours ever affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. marine parade, eastbourne, october th [ ]. my dear lyell, i send the [english] translation of bronn (a ms. translation of bronn's chapter of objections at the end of his german translation of the 'origin of species.'), the first part of the chapter with generalities and praise is not translated. there are some good hits. he makes an apparently, and in part truly, telling case against me, says that i cannot explain why one rat has a longer tail and another longer ears, etc. but he seems to muddle in assuming that these parts did not all vary together, or one part so insensibly before the other, as to be in fact contemporaneous. i might ask the creationist whether he thinks these differences in the two rats of any use, or as standing in some relation from laws of growth; and if he admits this, selection might come into play. he who thinks that god created animals unlike for mere sport or variety, as man fashions his clothes, will not admit any force in my argumentum ad hominem. bronn blunders about my supposing several glacial periods, whether or no such ever did occur. he blunders about my supposing that development goes on at the same rate in all parts of the world. i presume that he has misunderstood this from the supposed migration into all regions of the more dominant forms. i have ordered dr. bree ('species not transmutable,' by c.r. bree, .), and will lend it to you, if you like, and if it turns out good. ... i am very glad that i misunderstood you about species not having the capacity to vary, though in fact few do give birth to new species. it seems that i am very apt to misunderstand you; i suppose i am always fancying objections. your case of the red indian shows me that we agree entirely... i had a letter yesterday from thwaites of ceylon, who was much opposed to me. he now says, "i find that the more familiar i become with your views in connection with the various phenomena of nature, the more they commend themselves to my mind." charles darwin to j.m. rodwell. (rev. j.m. rodwell, who was at cambridge with my father, remembers him saying:--"it strikes me that all our knowledge about the structure of our earth is very much like what an old hen would know of a hundred acre field, in a corner of which she is scratching.") marine parade, eastbourne. november th [ ]. my dear sir, i am extremely much obliged for your letter, which i can compare only to a plum-pudding, so full it is of good things. i have been rash about the cats ("cats with blue eyes are invariably deaf," 'origin of species,' edition i. page .): yet i spoke on what seemed to me, good authority. the rev. w.d. fox gave me a list of cases of various foreign breeds in which he had observed the correlation, and for years he had vainly sought an exception. a french paper also gives numerous cases, and one very curious case of a kitten which gradually lost the blue colour in its eyes and as gradually acquired its power of hearing. i had not heard of your uncle, mr. kirby's case (william kirby, joint author with spence, of the well-known 'introduction to entomology,' .) (whom i, for as long as i can remember, have venerated) of care in breeding cats. i do not know whether mr. kirby was your uncle by marriage, but your letters show me that you ought to have kirby blood in your veins, and that if you had not taken to languages you would have been a first-rate naturalist. i sincerely hope that you will be able to carry out your intention of writing on the "birth, life, and death of words." anyhow, you have a capital title, and some think this the most difficult part of a book. i remember years ago at the cape of good hope, sir j. herschel saying to me, i wish some one would treat language as lyell has treated geology. what a linguist you must be to translate the koran! having a vilely bad head for languages, i feel an awful respect for linguists. i do not know whether my brother-in-law, hensleigh wedgwood's 'etymological dictionary' would be at all in your line; but he treats briefly on the genesis of words; and, as it seems to me, very ingeniously. you kindly say that you would communicate any facts which might occur to you, and i am sure that i should be most grateful. of the multitude of letters which i receive, not one in a thousand is like yours in value. with my cordial thanks, and apologies for this untidy letter written in haste, pray believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely obliged, ch. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. november th [ ]. ... i have not had heart to read phillips ('life on the earth.') yet, or a tremendous long hostile review by professor bowen in the to mem. of the american academy of sciences. ("remarks on the latest form of the development theory." by francis bowen, professor of natural religion and moral philosophy, at harvard university. 'american academy of arts and sciences,' vol. viii.) (by the way, i hear agassiz is going to thunder against me in the next part of the 'contributions.') thank you for telling me of the sale of the 'origin,' of which i had not heard. there will be some time, i presume, a new edition, and i especially want your advice on one point, and you know i think you the wisest of men, and i shall be absolutely guided by your advice. it has occurred to me, that it would perhaps be a good plan to put a set of notes (some twenty to forty or fifty) to the 'origin,' which now has none, exclusively devoted to errors of my reviewers. it has occurred to me that where a reviewer has erred, a common reader might err. secondly, it will show the reader that he must not trust implicitly to reviewers. thirdly, when any special fact has been attacked, i should like to defend it. i would show no sort of anger. i enclose a mere rough specimen, done without any care or accuracy--done from memory alone--to be torn up, just to show the sort of thing that has occurred to me. will you do me the great kindness to consider this well? it seems to me it would have a good effect, and give some confidence to the reader. it would [be] a horrid bore going through all the reviews. yours affectionately, c. darwin. [here follow samples of foot-notes, the references to volume and page being left blank. it will be seen that in some cases he seems to have forgotten that he was writing foot-notes, and to have continued as if writing to lyell:-- *dr. bree asserts that i explain the structure of the cells of the hive bee by "the exploded doctrine of pressure." but i do not say one word which directly or indirectly can be interpreted into any reference to pressure. *the 'edinburgh' reviewer quotes my work as saying that the "dorsal vertebrae of pigeons vary in number, and disputes the fact." i nowhere even allude to the dorsal vertebrae, only to the sacral and caudal vertebrae. *the 'edinburgh' reviewer throws a doubt on these organs being the branchiae of cirripedes. but professor owen in admits, without hesitation, that they are branchiae, as did john hunter long ago. *the confounded wealden calculation to be struck out, and a note to be inserted to the effect that i am convinced of its inaccuracy from a review in the "saturday review", and from phillips, as i see in his table of contents that he alludes to it. *mr. hopkins ('fraser') states--i am quoting only from vague memory--that, "i argue in favour of my views from the extreme imperfection of the geological record," and says this is the first time in the history of science he has ever heard of ignorance being adduced as an argument. but i repeatedly admit, in the most emphatic language which i can use, that the imperfect evidence which geology offers in regard to transitorial forms is most strongly opposed to my views. surely there is a wide difference in fully admitting an objection, and then in endeavouring to show that it is not so strong as it at first appears, and in mr. hopkins's assertion that i found my argument on the objection. *i would also put a note to "natural selection," and show how variously it has been misunderstood. *a writer in the 'edinburgh philosophical journal' denies my statement that the woodpecker of la plata never frequents trees. i observed its habits during two years, but, what is more to the purpose, azara, whose accuracy all admit, is more emphatic than i am in regard to its never frequenting trees. mr. a. murray denies that it ought to be called a woodpecker; it has two toes in front and two behind, pointed tail feathers, a long pointed tongue, and the same general form of body, the same manner of flight, colouring and voice. it was classed, until recently, in the same genus--picus--with all other woodpeckers, but now has been ranked as a distinct genus amongst the picidae. it differs from the typical picus only in the beak, not being quite so strong, and in the upper mandible being slightly arched. i think these facts fully justify my statement that it is "in all essential parts of its organisation" a woodpecker.] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, november [ ]. my dear huxley, for heaven's sake don't write an anti-darwinian article; you would do it so confoundedly well. i have sometimes amused myself with thinking how i could best pitch into myself, and i believe i could give two or three good digs; but i will see you -- first before i will try. i shall be very impatient to see the review. (the first number of the new series of the 'nat. hist. review' appeared in .) if it succeeds it may really do much, very much good... i heard to-day from murray that i must set to work at once on a new edition (the rd edition.) of the 'origin.' [murray] says the reviews have not improved the sale. i shall always think those early reviews, almost entirely yours, did the subject an enormous service. if you have any important suggestions or criticisms to make on any part of the 'origin,' i should, of course, be very grateful for [them]. for i mean to correct as far as i can, but not enlarge. how you must be wearied with and hate the subject, and it is god's blessing if you do not get to hate me. adios. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, november th [ ]. my dear lyell, i thank you much for your letter. i had got to take pleasure in thinking how i could best snub my reviewers; but i was determined, in any case, to follow your advice, and, before i had got to the end of your letter, i was convinced of the wisdom of your advice. ("i get on slowly with my new edition. i find that your advice was excellent. i can answer all reviews, without any direct notice of them, by a little enlargement here and there, with here and there a new paragraph. bronn alone i shall treat with the respect of giving his objections with his name. i think i shall improve my book a good deal, and add only some twenty pages."--from a letter to lyell, december th, .) what an advantage it is to me to have such friends as you. i shall follow every hint in your letter exactly. i have just heard from murray; he says he sold copies at his sale, and that he has not half the number to supply; so that i must begin at once (on the third edition of the 'origin of species,' published in april .)... p.s.--i must tell you one little fact which has pleased me. you may remember that i adduce electrical organs of fish as one of the greatest difficulties which have occurred to me, and -- notices the passage in a singularly disingenuous spirit. well, mcdonnell, of dublin (a first-rate man), writes to me that he felt the difficulty of the whole case as overwhelming against me. not only are the fishes which have electric organs very remote in scale, but the organ is near the head in some, and near the tail in others, and supplied by wholly different nerves. it seems impossible that there could be any transition. some friend, who is much opposed to me, seems to have crowed over mcdonnell, who reports that he said to himself, that if darwin is right, there must be homologous organs both near the head and tail in other non-electric fish. he set to work, and, by jove, he has found them! ('on an organ in the skate, which appears to be the homologue of the electrical organ of the torpedo,' by r. mcdonnell, 'nat. hist. review,' , page .) so that some of the difficulty is removed; and is it not satisfactory that my hypothetical notions should have led to pretty discoveries? mcdonnell seems very cautious; he says, years must pass before he will venture to call himself a believer in my doctrine, but that on the subjects which he knows well, viz., morphology and embryology, my views accord well, and throw light on the whole subject. charles darwin to asa gray. down, november th, . my dear gray, i have to thank you for two letters. the latter with corrections, written before you received my letter asking for an american reprint, and saying that it was hopeless to print your reviews as a pamphlet, owing to the impossibility of getting pamphlets known. i am very glad to say that the august or second 'atlantic' article has been reprinted in the 'annals and magazine of natural history'; but i have not seen it there. yesterday i read over with care the third article; and it seems to me, as before, admirable. but i grieve to say that i cannot honestly go as far as you do about design. i am conscious that i am in an utterly hopeless muddle. i cannot think that the world, as we see it, is the result of chance; and yet i cannot look at each separate thing as the result of design. to take a crucial example, you lead me to infer (page ) that you believe "that variation has been led along certain beneficial lines." i cannot believe this; and i think you would have to believe, that the tail of the fantail was led to vary in the number and direction of its feathers in order to gratify the caprice of a few men. yet if the fantail had been a wild bird, and had used its abnormal tail for some special end, as to sail before the wind, unlike other birds, every one would have said, "what a beautiful and designed adaptation." again, i say i am, and shall ever remain, in a hopeless muddle. thank you much for bowen's to. review. ('memoirs of the american academy of arts and sciences,' vol. viii.) the coolness with which he makes all animals to be destitute of reason is simply absurd. it is monstrous at page , that he should argue against the possibility of accumulative variation, and actually leave out, entirely, selection! the chance that an improved short-horn, or improved pouter-pigeon, should be produced by accumulative variation without man's selection is as almost infinity to nothing; so with natural species without natural selection. how capitally in the 'atlantic' you show that geology and astronomy are, according to bowen, metaphysics; but he leaves out this in the to. memoir. i have not much to tell you about my book. i have just heard that du boi-reymond agrees with me. the sale of my book goes on well, and the multitude of reviews has not stopped the sale...; so i must begin at once on a new corrected edition. i will send you a copy for the chance of your ever re-reading; but, good heavens, how sick you must be of it! charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, december nd [ ]. ... i have got fairly sick of hostile reviews. nevertheless, they have been of use in showing me when to expatiate a little and to introduce a few new discussions. of course i will send you a copy of the new edition. i entirely agree with you, that the difficulties on my notions are terrific, yet having seen what all the reviews have said against me, i have far more confidence in the general truth of the doctrine than i formerly had. another thing gives me confidence, viz. that some who went half an inch with me now go further, and some who were bitterly opposed are now less bitterly opposed. and this makes me feel a little disappointed that you are not inclined to think the general view in some slight degree more probable than you did at first. this i consider rather ominous. otherwise i should be more contented with your degree of belief. i can pretty plainly see that, if my view is ever to be generally adopted, it will be by young men growing up and replacing the old workers, and then young ones finding that they can group facts and search out new lines of investigation better on the notion of descent, than on that of creation. but forgive me for running on so egotistically. living so solitary as i do, one gets to think in a silly manner of one's own work. ever yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. ... i heard from a. gray this morning; at my suggestion he is going to reprint the three 'atlantic' articles as a pamphlet, and send copies to england, for which i intend to pay half the cost of the whole edition, and shall give away, and try to sell by getting a few advertisements put in, and if possible notices in periodicals. ... david forbes has been carefully working the geology of chile, and as i value praise for accurate observation far higher than for any other quality, forgive (if you can) the insufferable vanity of my copying the last sentence in his note: "i regard your monograph on chile as, without exception, one of the finest specimens of geological enquiry." i feel inclined to strut like a turkey-cock! chapter .iii. -- spread of evolution. - . [the beginning of the year saw my father with the third chapter of 'the variation of animals and plants' still on his hands. it had been begun in the previous august, and was not finished until march . he was, however, for part of this time (i believe during december and january ) engaged in a new edition ( copies) of the 'origin,' which was largely corrected and added to, and was published in april . with regard to this, the third edition, he wrote to mr. murray in december :-- "i shall be glad to hear when you have decided how many copies you will print off--the more the better for me in all ways, as far as compatible with safety; for i hope never again to make so many corrections, or rather additions, which i have made in hopes of making my many rather stupid reviewers at least understand what is meant. i hope and think i shall improve the book considerably." an interesting feature in the new edition was the "historical sketch of the recent progress of opinion on the origin of species" (the historical sketch had already appeared in the first german edition ( ) and the american edition. bronn states in the german edition (footnote, page ) that it was his critique in the 'n. jahrbuch fur mineralogie' that suggested the idea of such a sketch to my father.) which now appeared for the first time, and was continued in the later editions of the work. it bears a strong impress of the author's personal character in the obvious wish to do full justice to all his predecessors,--though even in this respect it has not escaped some adverse criticism. towards the end of the present year ( ), the final arrangements for the first french edition of the 'origin' were completed, and in september a copy of the third english edition was despatched to mdlle. clemence royer, who undertook the work of translation. the book was now spreading on the continent, a dutch edition had appeared, and, as we have seen, a german translation had been published in . in a letter to mr. murray (september , ), he wrote, "my book seems exciting much attention in germany, judging from the number of discussions sent me." the silence had been broken, and in a few years the voice of german science was to become one of the strongest of the advocates of evolution. during all the early part of the year ( ) he was working at the mass of details which are marshalled in order in the early chapter of 'animals and plants.' thus in his diary occur the laconic entries, "may , finished fowls (eight weeks); may , ducks." on july , he started, with his family, for torquay, where he remained until august --a holiday which he characteristically enters in his diary as "eight weeks and a day." the house he occupied was in hesketh crescent, a pleasantly placed row of houses close above the sea, somewhat removed from what was then the main body of the town, and not far from the beautiful cliffed coast-line in the neighbourhood of anstey's cove. during the torquay holiday, and for the remainder of the year, he worked at the fertilisation of orchids. this part of the year is not dealt with in the present chapter, because (as explained in the preface) the record of his life, as told in his letters, seems to become clearer when the whole of his botanical work is placed together and treated separately. the present series of chapters will, therefore, include only the progress of his works in the direction of a general amplification of the 'origin of species'--e.g., the publication of 'animals and plants,' 'descent of man,' etc.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, january [ ]. my dear hooker, the sight of your handwriting always rejoices the very cockles of my heart... i most fully agree to what you say about huxley's article ('natural history review,' , page , "on the zoological relations of man with the lower animals." this memoir had its origin in a discussion at the previous meeting of the british association, when professor huxley felt himself "compelled to give a diametrical contradiction to certain assertions respecting the differences which obtain between the brains of the higher apes and of man, which fell from professor owen." but in order that his criticisms might refer to deliberately recorded words, he bases them on professor owen's paper, "on the characters, etc., of the class mammalia," read before the linnean society in february and april, , in which he proposed to place man not only in a distinct order, but in "a distinct su-class of the mammalia"--the archencephala.), and the power of writing... the whole review seems to me excellent. how capitally oliver has done the resume of botanical books. good heavens, how he must have read!... i quite agree that phillips ('life on the earth' ( ), by prof. phillips, containing the substance of the rede lecture (may ).) is unreadably dull. you need not attempt bree. (the following sentence (page ) from 'species not transmutable,' by dr. bree, illustrates the degree in which he understood the 'origin of species': "the only real difference between mr. darwin and his two predecessors" [lamarck and the 'vestiges'] "is this:--that while the latter have each given a mode by which they conceive the great changes they believe in have been brought about, mr. darwin does no such thing." after this we need not be surprised at a passage in the preface: "no one has derived greater pleasure than i have in past days from the study of mr. darwin's other works, and no one has felt a greater degree of regret that he should have imperilled his fame by the publication of his treatise upon the 'origin of species.'")... if you come across dr. freke on 'origin of species by means of organic affinity,' read a page here and there... he tells the reader to observe [that his result] has been arrived at by "induction," whereas all my results are arrived at only by "analogy." i see a mr. neale has read a paper before the zoological society on 'typical selection;' what it means i know not. i have not read h. spencer, for i find that i must more and more husband the very little strength which i have. i sometimes suspect i shall soon entirely fail... as soon as this dreadful weather gets a little milder, i must try a little water cure. have you read the 'woman in white'? the plot is wonderfully interesting. i can recommend a book which has interested me greatly, viz. olmsted's 'journey in the back country.' it is an admirably lively picture of man and slavery in the southern states... charles darwin to c. lyell. february , . my dear lyell, i have thought you would like to read the enclosed passage in a letter from a. gray (who is printing his reviews as a pamphlet ("natural selection not inconsistent with natural theology," from the 'atlantic monthly' for july, august, and october, ; published by trubner.), and will send copies to england), as i think his account is really favourable in high degree to us:-- "i wish i had time to write you an account of the lengths to which bowen and agassiz, each in their own way, are going. the first denying all heredity (all transmission except specific) whatever. the second coming near to deny that we are genetically descended from our great-grea-grandfathers; and insisting that evidently affiliated languages, e.g. latin, greek, sanscrit, owe none of their similarities to a community of origin, are all autochthonal; agassiz admits that the derivation of languages, and that of species or forms, stand on the same foundation, and that he must allow the latter if he allows the former, which i tell him is perfectly logical." is not this marvellous? ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, i was delighted to get your long chatty letter, and to hear that you are thawing towards science. i almost wish you had remained frozen rather longer; but do not thaw too quickly and strongly. no one can work long as you used to do. be idle; but i am a pretty man to preach, for i cannot be idle, much as i wish it, and am never comfortable except when at work. the word holiday is written in a dead language for me, and much i grieve at it. we thank you sincerely for your kind sympathy about poor h. [his daughter]... she has now come up to her old point, and can sometimes get up for an hour or two twice a day... never to look to the future or as little as possible is becoming our rule of life. what a different thing life was in youth with no dread in the future; all golden, if baseless, hopes. ... with respect to the 'natural history review' i can hardly think that ladies would be so very sensitive about "lizards' guts;" but the publication is at present certainly a sort of hybrid, and original illustrated papers ought hardly to appear in a review. i doubt its ever paying; but i shall much regret if it dies. all that you say seems very sensible, but could a review in the strict sense of the word be filled with readable matter? i have been doing little, except finishing the new edition of the 'origin,' and crawling on most slowly with my volume of 'variation under domestication'... [the following letter refers to mr. bates's paper, "contributions to an insect fauna of the amazon valley," in the 'transactions of the entomological society,' vol. , n.s. (the paper was read november , .) mr. bates points out that with the return, after the glacial period, of a warmer climate in the equatorial regions, the "species then living near the equator would retreat north and south to their former homes, leaving some of their congeners, slowly modified subsequently... to re-people the zone they had forsaken." in this case the species now living at the equator ought to show clear relationship to the species inhabiting the regions about the th parallel, whose distant relatives they would of course be. but this is not the case, and this is the difficulty my father refers to. mr. belt has offered an explanation in his 'naturalist in nicaragua' ( ), page . "i believe the answer is that there was much extermination during the glacial period, that many species (and some genera, etc., as, for instance, the american horse), did not survive it... but that a refuge was found for many species on lands now below the ocean, that were uncovered by the lowering of the sea, caused by the immense quantity of water that was locked up in frozen masses on the land."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, th [march ]. my dear hooker, i had intended to have sent you bates's article this very day. i am so glad you like it. i have been extremely much struck with it. how well he argues, and with what crushing force against the glacial doctrine. i cannot wriggle out of it: i am dumbfounded; yet i do believe that some explanation some day will appear, and i cannot give up equatorial cooling. it explains so much and harmonises with so much. when you write (and much interested i shall be in your letter) please say how far floras are generally uniform in generic character from to degrees n. and s. before reading bates, i had become thoroughly dissatisfied with what i wrote to you. i hope you may get bates to write in the 'linnean.' here is a good joke: h.c. watson (who, i fancy and hope, is going to review the new edition (third edition of copies, published in april, .) of the 'origin') says that in the first four paragraphs of the introduction, the words "i," "me," "my," occur forty-three times! i was dimly conscious of the accursed fact. he says it can be explained phrenologically, which i suppose civilly means, that i am the most egotistically self-sufficient man alive; perhaps so. i wonder whether he will print this pleasing fact; it beats hollow the parentheses in wollaston's writing. _i_ am, my dear hooker, ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--do not spread this pleasing joke; it is rather too biting. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, [april] ? [ ]. ... i quite agree with what you say on lieutenant hutton's review (in the 'geologist,' , page , by lieutenant frederick wollaston hutton, now professor of biology and geology at canterbury college, new zealand.) (who he is i know not); it struck me as very original. he is one of the very few who see that the change of species cannot be directly proved, and that the doctrine must sink or swim according as it groups and explains phenomena. it is really curious how few judge it in this way, which is clearly the right way. i have been much interested by bentham's paper ("on the species and genera of plants, etc.," 'natural history review,' , page .) in the n.h.r., but it would not, of course, from familiarity strike you as it did me. i liked the whole; all the facts on the nature of close and varying species. good heavens! to think of the british botanists turning up their noses, and saying that he knows nothing of british plants! i was also pleased at his remarks on classification, because it showed me that i wrote truly on this subject in the 'origin.' i saw bentham at the linnean society, and had some talk with him and lubbock, and edgeworth, wallich, and several others. i asked bentham to give us his ideas of species; whether partially with us or dead against us, he would write excellent matter. he made no answer, but his manner made me think he might do so if urged; so do you attack him. every one was speaking with affection and anxiety of henslow. (prof. henslow was in his last illness.) i dined with bell at the linnean club, and liked my dinner... dining out is such a novelty to me that i enjoyed it. bell has a real good heart. i liked rolleston's paper, but i never read anything so obscure and not sel-evident as his 'canons.' (george rolleston, m.d., f.r.s., - . linacre professor of anatomy and physiology at oxford. a man of much learning, who left but few published works, among which may be mentioned his handbook 'forms of animal life.' for the 'canons,' see 'nat. hist. review,' , page .)... i called on r. chambers, at his very nice house in st. john's wood, and had a very pleasant half-hour's talk; he is really a capital fellow. he made one good remark and chuckled over it, that the laymen universally had treated the controversy on the 'essays and reviews' as a merely professional subject, and had not joined in it, but had left it to the clergy. i shall be anxious for your next letter about henslow. (sir joseph hooker was prof. henslow's son-in-law.) farewell, with sincere sympathy, my old friend, c. darwin. p.s.--we are very much obliged for the 'london review.' we like reading much of it, and the science is incomparably better than in the "athenaeum". you shall not go on very long sending it, as you will be ruined by pennies and trouble, but i am under a horrid spell to the "athenaeum" and the "gardener's chronicle", but i have taken them in for so many years, that i cannot give them up. [the next letter refers to lyell's visit to the biddenham gravel-pits near bedford in april . the visit was made at the invitation of mr. james wyatt, who had recently discovered two stone implements "at the depth of thirteen feet from the surface of the soil," resting "immediately on solid beds of oolitic-limestone." ('antiquity of man,' fourth edition, page .) here, says sir c. lyell, "i... for the first time, saw evidence which satisfied me of the chronological relations of those three phenomena--the antique tools, the extinct mammalia, and the glacial formation."] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, april [ ]. my dear lyell, i have been most deeply interested by your letter. you seem to have done the grandest work, and made the greatest step, of any one with respect to man. it is an especial relief to hear that you think the french superficial deposits are deltoid and semi-marine; but two days ago i was saying to a friend, that the unknown manner of the accumulation of these deposits, seemed the great blot in all the work done. i could not stomach debacles or lacustrine beds. it is grand. i remember falconer told me that he thought some of the remains in the devonshire caverns were pre-glacial, and this, i presume, is now your conclusion for the older celts with hyena and hippopotamus. it is grand. what a fine long pedigree you have given the human race! i am sure i never thought of parallel roads having been accumulated during subsidence. i think i see some difficulties on this view, though, at first reading your note, i jumped at the idea. but i will think over all i saw there. i am (stomacho volente) coming up to london on tuesday to work on cocks and hens, and on wednesday morning, about a quarter before ten, i will call on you (unless i hear to the contrary), for i long to see you. i congratulate you on your grand work. ever yours, c. darwin. p.s.--tell lady lyell that i was unable to digest the funereal ceremonies of the ants, notwithstanding that erasmus has often told me that i should find some day that they have their bishops. after a battle i have always seen the ants carry away the dead for food. ants display the utmost economy, and always carry away a dead fellow-creature as food. but i have just forwarded two most extraordinary letters to busk, from a backwoodsman in texas, who has evidently watched ants carefully, and declares most positively that they plant and cultivate a kind of grass for store food, and plant other bushes for shelter! i do not know what to think, except that the old gentleman is not fibbing intentionally. i have left the responsibility with busk whether or no to read the letters. (i.e. to read them before the linnean society.) charles darwin to thomas davidson. (thomas davidson, f.r.s., born in edinburgh, may , ; died . his researches were chiefly connected with the sciences of geology and palaeontology, and were directed especially to the elucidation of the characters, classification, history, geological and geographical distribution of recent and fossil brachiopoda. on this subject he brought out an important work, 'british fossil brachiopoda,' vols. to. (cooper, 'men of the time,' .)) down, april , . my dear sir, i hope that you will excuse me for venturing to make a suggestion to you which i am perfectly well aware it is a very remote chance that you would adopt. i do not know whether you have read my 'origin of species'; in that book i have made the remark, which i apprehend will be universally admitted, that as a whole, the fauna of any formation is intermediate in character between that of the formations above and below. but several really good judges have remarked to me how desirable it would be that this should be exemplified and worked out in some detail and with some single group of beings. now every one will admit that no one in the world could do this better than you with brachiopods. the result might turn out very unfavourable to the views which i hold; if so, so much the better for those who are opposed to me. ("mr. davidson is not at all a full believer in great changes of species, which will make his work all the more valuable.--c. darwin to r. chambers (april , ).) but i am inclined to suspect that on the whole it would be favourable to the notion of descent with modification; for about a year ago, mr. salter (john william salter; - . he entered the service of the geological survey in , and ultimately became its palaeontologist, on the retirement of edward forbes, and gave up the office in . he was associated with several well-known naturalists in their work--with sedgwick, murchison, lyell, ramsay, and huxley. there are sixty entries under his name in the royal society catalogue. the above facts are taken from an obituary notice of mr. salter in the 'geological magazine,' .) in the museum in jermyn street, glued on a board some spirifers, etc., from three palaeozoic stages, and arranged them in single and branching lines, with horizontal lines marking the formations (like the diagram in my book, if you know it), and the result seemed to me very striking, though i was too ignorant fully to appreciate the lines of affinities. i longed to have had these shells engraved, as arranged by mr. salter, and connected by dotted lines, and would have gladly paid the expense: but i could not persuade mr. salter to publish a little paper on the subject. i can hardly doubt that many curious points would occur to any one thoroughly instructed in the subject, who would consider a group of beings under this point of view of descent with modification. all those forms which have come down from an ancient period very slightly modified ought, i think, to be omitted, and those forms alone considered which have undergone considerable change at each successive epoch. my fear is whether brachiopods have changed enough. the absolute amount of difference of the forms in such groups at the opposite extremes of time ought to be considered, and how far the early forms are intermediate in character between those which appeared much later in time. the antiquity of a group is not really diminished, as some seem vaguely to think, because it has transmitted to the present day closely allied forms. another point is how far the succession of each genus is unbroken, from the first time it appeared to its extinction, with due allowance made for formations poor in fossils. i cannot but think that an important essay (far more important than a hundred literary reviews) might be written by one like yourself, and without very great labour. i know it is highly probable that you may not have leisure, or not care for, or dislike the subject, but i trust to your kindness to forgive me for making this suggestion. if by any extraordinary good fortune you were inclined to take up this notion, i would ask you to read my chapter x. on geological succession. and i should like in this case to be permitted to send you a copy of the new edition, just published, in which i have added and corrected somewhat in chapters ix. and x. pray excuse this long letter, and believe me, my dear sir, yours very faithfully, c. darwin. p.s.--i write so bad a hand that i have had this note copied. charles darwin to thomas davidson. down, april , . my dear sir, i thank you warmly for your letter; i did not in the least know that you had attended to my work. i assure you that the attention which you have paid to it, considering your knowledge and the philosophical tone of your mind (for i well remember one remarkable letter you wrote to me, and have looked through your various publications), i consider one of the highest, perhaps the very highest, compliments which i have received. i live so solitary a life that i do not often hear what goes on, and i should much like to know in what work you have published some remarks on my book. i take a deep interest in the subject, and i hope not simply an egotistical interest; therefore you may believe how much your letter has gratified me; i am perfectly contented if any one will fairly consider the subject, whether or not he fully or only very slightly agrees with me. pray do not think that i feel the least surprise at your demurring to a ready acceptance; in fact, i should not much respect anyone's judgment who did so: that is, if i may judge others from the long time which it has taken me to go round. each stage of belief cost me years. the difficulties are, as you say, many and very great; but the more i reflect, the more they seem to me to be due to our underestimating our ignorance. i belong so much to old times that i find that i weigh the difficulties from the imperfection of the geological record, heavier than some of the younger men. i find, to my astonishment and joy, that such good men as ramsay, jukes, geikie, and one old worker, lyell, do not think that i have in the least exaggerated the imperfection of the record. (professor sedgwick treated this part of the 'origin of species' very differently, as might have been expected from his vehement objection to evolution in general. in the article in the "spectator" of march , , already noticed, sedgwick wrote: "we know the complicated organic phenomena of the mesozoic (or oolitic) period. it defies the transmutationist at every step. oh! but the document, says darwin, is a fragment; i will interpolate long periods to account for all the changes. i say, in reply, if you deny my conclusion, grounded on positive evidence, i toss back your conclusion, derived from negative evidence,--the inflated cushion on which you try to bolster up the defects of your hypothesis." [the punctuation of the imaginary dialogue is slightly altered from the original, which is obscure in one place.]) if my views ever are proved true, our current geological views will have to be considerably modified. my greatest trouble is, not being able to weigh the direct effects of the long-continued action of changed conditions of life without any selection, with the action of selection on mere accidental (so to speak) variability. i oscillate much on this head, but generally return to my belief that the direct action of the conditions of life has not been great. at least this direct action can have played an extremely small part in producing all the numberless and beautiful adaptations in every living creature. with respect to a person's belief, what does rather surprise me is that any one (like carpenter) should be willing to go so very far as to believe that all birds may have descended from one parent, and not go a little farther and include all the members of the same great division; for on such a scale of belief, all the facts in morphology and in embryology (the most important in my opinion of all subjects) become mere divine mockeries... i cannot express how profoundly glad i am that some day you will publish your theoretical view on the modification and endurance of brachiopodous species; i am sure it will be a most valuable contribution to knowledge. pray forgive this very egotistical letter, but you yourself are partly to blame for having pleased me so much. i have told murray to send a copy of my new edition to you, and have written your name. with cordial thanks, pray believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. [in mr. davidson's monograph on british brachiopoda, published shortly afterwards by the palaeontographical society, results such as my father anticipated were to some extent obtained. "no less than fifteen commonly received species are demonstrated by mr. davidson by the aid of a long series of transitional forms to appertain to... one type." "lyell, 'antiquity of man,' first edition, page .) in the autumn of , and the early part of , my father had a good deal of correspondence with professor asa gray on a subject to which reference has already been made--the publication in the form of a pamphlet, of professor gray's three articles in the july, august, and october numbers of the 'atlantic monthly,' . the pamphlet was published by messrs. trubner, with reference to whom my father wrote, "messrs. trubner have been most liberal and kind, and say they shall make no charge for all their trouble. i have settled about a few advertisements, and they will gratuitously insert one in their own periodicals." the reader will find these articles republished in dr. gray's 'darwiniana,' page , under the title "natural selection not inconsistent with natural theology." the pamphlet found many admirers among those most capable of judging of its merits, and my father believed that it was of much value in lessening opposition, and making converts to evolution. his high opinion of it is shown not only in his letters, but by the fact that he inserted a special notice of it in a most prominent place in the third edition of the 'origin.' lyell, among others, recognised its value as an antidote to the kind of criticism from which the cause of evolution suffered. thus my father wrote to dr. gray:--"just to exemplify the use of your pamphlet, the bishop of london was asking lyell what he thought of the review in the 'quarterly,' and lyell answered, 'read asa gray in the 'atlantic.'". it comes out very clearly that in the case of such publications as dr. gray's, my father did not rejoice over the success of his special view of evolution, viz. that modification is mainly due to natural selection; on the contrary, he felt strongly that the really important point was that the doctrine of descent should be accepted. thus he wrote to professor gray (may , ), with reference to lyell's 'antiquity of man':-- "you speak of lyell as a judge; now what i complain of is that he declines to be a judge... i have sometimes almost wished that lyell had pronounced against me. when i say 'me,' i only mean change of species by descent. that seems to me the turning-point. personally, of course, i care much about natural selection; but that seems to me utterly unimportant, compared to the question of creation or modification."] charles darwin to asa gray. down, april [ ]. my dear gray, i was very glad to get your photograph: i am expecting mine, which i will send off as soon as it comes. it is an ugly affair, and i fear the fault does not lie with the photographer... since writing last, i have had several letters full of the highest commendation of your essay; all agree that it is by far the best thing written, and i do not doubt it has done the 'origin' much good. i have not yet heard how it has sold. you will have seen a review in the "gardeners' chronicle". poor dear henslow, to whom i owe much, is dying, and hooker is with him. many thanks for two sets of sheets of your proceedings. i cannot understand what agassiz is driving at. you once spoke, i think, of professor bowen as a very clever man. i should have thought him a singularly unobservant man from his writings. he never can have seen much of animals, or he would have seen the difference of old and wise dogs and young ones. his paper about hereditariness beats everything. tell a breeder that he might pick out his worst individual animals and breed from them, and hope to win a prize, and he would think you... insane. [professor henslow died on may , , from a complication of bronchitis, congestion of the lungs, and enlargement of the heart. his strong constitution was slow in giving way, and he lingered for weeks in a painful condition of weakness, knowing that his end was near, and looking at death with fearless eyes. in mr. blomefield's (jenyns) 'memoir of henslow' ( ) is a dignified and touching description of prof. sedgwick's farewell visit to his old friend. sedgwick said afterwards that he had never seen "a human being whose soul was nearer heaven." my father wrote to sir j.d. hooker on hearing of henslow's death, "i fully believe a better man never walked this earth." he gave his impressions of henslow's character in mr. blomefield's 'memoir.' in reference to these recollections he wrote to sir j.d. hooker (may , ):-- "this morning i wrote my recollections and impressions of character of poor dear henslow about the year . i liked the job, and so have written four or five pages, now being copied. i do not suppose you will use all, of course you can chop and change as much as you like. if more than a sentence is used, i should like to see a proof-page, as i never can write decently till i see it in print. very likely some of my remarks may appear too trifling, but i thought it best to give my thoughts as they arose, for you or jenyns to use as you think fit. "you will see that i have exceeded your request, but, as i said when i began, i took pleasure in writing my impression of his admirable character."] charles darwin to asa gray. down, june [ ]. my dear gray, i have been rather extra busy, so have been slack in answering your note of may th. i hope you have received long ago the third edition of the 'origin.'... i have heard nothing from trubner of the sale of your essay, hence fear it has not been great; i wrote to say you could supply more. i send a copy to sir j. herschel, and in his new edition of his 'physical geography' he has a note on the 'origin of species,' and agrees, to a certain limited extent, but puts in a caution on design--much like yours... i have been led to think more on this subject of late, and grieve to say that i come to differ more from you. it is not that designed variation makes, as it seems to me, my deity "natural selection" superfluous, but rather from studying, lately, domestic variation, and seeing what an enormous field of undesigned variability there is ready for natural selection to appropriate for any purpose useful to each creature. i thank you much for sending me your review of phillips. ('life on the earth,' .) i remember once telling you a lot of trades which you ought to have followed, but now i am convinced that you are a born reviewer. by jove, how well and often you hit the nail on the head! you rank phillips's book higher than i do, or than lyell does, who thinks it fearfully retrograde. i amused myself by parodying phillips's argument as applied to domestic variation; and you might thus prove that the duck or pigeon has not varied because the goose has not, though more anciently domesticated, and no good reason can be assigned why it has not produced many varieties ... i never knew the newspapers so profoundly interesting. north america does not do england justice; i have not seen or heard of a soul who is not with the north. some few, and i am one of them, even wish to god, though at the loss of millions of lives, that the north would proclaim a crusade against slavery. in the long-run, a million horrid deaths would be amply repaid in the cause of humanity. what wonderful times we live in! massachusetts seems to show noble enthusiasm. great god! how i should like to see the greatest curse on earth--slavery--abolished! farewell. hooker has been absorbed with poor dear revered henslow's affairs. farewell. ever yours, c. darwin. hugh falconer to charles darwin. sackville st., w., june , . my dear darwin, i have been to adelsberg cave and brought back with me a live proteus anguinus, designed for you from the moment i got it; i.e. if you have got an aquarium and would care to have it. i only returned last night from the continent, and hearing from your brother that you are about to go to torquay, i lose no time in making you the offer. the poor dear animal is still alive--although it has had no appreciable means of sustenance for a month--and i am most anxious to get rid of the responsibility of starving it longer. in your hands it will thrive and have a fair chance of being developed without delay into some type of the columbidae--say a pouter or a tumbler. my dear darwin, i have been rambling through the north of italy, and germany lately. everywhere have i heard your views and your admirable essay canvassed--the views of course often dissented from, according to the special bias of the speaker--but the work, its honesty of purpose, grandeur of conception, felicity of illustration, and courageous exposition, always referred to in terms of the highest admiration. and among your warmest friends no one rejoiced more heartily in the just appreciation of charles darwin than did yours very truly, h. falconer. charles darwin to hugh falconer. down [june , ]. my dear falconer, i have just received your note, and by good luck a day earlier than properly, and i lose not a moment in answering you, and thanking you heartily for your offer of the valuable specimen; but i have no aquarium and shall soon start for torquay, so that it would be a thousand pities that i should have it. yet i should certainly much like to see it, but i fear it is impossible. would not the zoological society be the best place? and then the interest which many would take in this extraordinary animal would repay you for your trouble. kind as you have been in taking this trouble and offering me this specimen, to tell the truth i value your note more than the specimen. i shall keep your note amongst a very few precious letters. your kindness has quite touched me. yours affectionately and gratefully, ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. hesketh crescent, torquay, july [ ]. ... i hope harvey is better; i got his review (the 'dublin hospital gazette,' may , . the passage referred to is at page .) of me a day or two ago, from which i infer he must be convalescent; it's very good and fair; but it is funny to see a man argue on the succession of animals from noah's deluge; as god did not then wholly destroy man, probably he did not wholly destroy the races of other animals at each geological period! i never expected to have a helping hand from the old testament... charles darwin to c. lyell. , hesketh crescent, torquay, july [ ]. my dear lyell, i sent you two or three days ago a duplicate of a good review of the 'origin' by a mr. maw (mr. george maw, of benthall hall. the review was published in the 'zoologist,' july, . on the back of my father's copy is written, "must be consulted before new edit. of 'origin'"--words which are wanting on many more pretentious notices, on which frequently occur my father's brief o/-, or "nothing new."), evidently a thoughtful man, as i thought you might like to have it, as you have so many... this is quite a charming place, and i have actually walked, i believe, good two miles out and back, which is a grand feat. i saw mr. pengelly (william pengelly, the geologist, and well-known explorer of the devonshire caves.) the other day, and was pleased at his enthusiasm. i do not in the least know whether you are in london. your illness must have lost you much time, but i hope you have nearly got your great job of the new edition finished. you must be very busy, if in london, so i will be generous, and on honour bright do not expect any answer to this dull little note... charles darwin to asa gray. down, september [ ?]. my dear gray, i thank you sincerely for your very long and interesting letter, political and scientific, of august th and th, and september nd received this morning. i agree with much of what you say, and i hope to god we english are utterly wrong in doubting ( ) whether the n. can conquer the s.; ( ) whether the n. has many friends in the south, and ( ) whether you noble men of massachusetts are right in transferring your own good feelings to the men of washington. again i say i hope to god we are wrong in doubting on these points. it is number ( ) which alone causes england not to be enthusiastic with you. what it may be in lancashire i know not, but in s. england cotton has nothing whatever to do with our doubts. if abolition does follow with your victory, the whole world will look brighter in my eyes, and in many eyes. it would be a great gain even to stop the spread of slavery into the territories; if that be possible without abolition, which i should have doubted. you ought not to wonder so much at england's coldness, when you recollect at the commencement of the war how many propositions were made to get things back to the old state with the old line of latitude, but enough of this, all i can say is that massachusetts and the adjoining states have the full sympathy of every good man whom i see; and this sympathy would be extended to the whole federal states, if we could be persuaded that your feelings were at all common to them. but enough of this. it is out of my line, though i read every word of news, and formerly well studied olmsted... your question what would convince me of design is a poser. if i saw an angel come down to teach us good, and i was convinced from others seeing him that i was not mad, i should believe in design. if i could be convinced thoroughly that life and mind was in an unknown way a function of other imponderable force, i should be convinced. if man was made of brass or iron and no way connected with any other organism which had ever lived, i should perhaps be convinced. but this is childish writing. i have lately been corresponding with lyell, who, i think, adopts your idea of the stream of variation having been led or designed. i have asked him (and he says he will hereafter reflect and answer me) whether he believes that the shape of my nose was designed. if he does i have nothing more to say. if not, seeing what fanciers have done by selecting individual differences in the nasal bones of pigeons, i must think that it is illogical to suppose that the variations, which natural selection preserves for the good of any being have been designed. but i know that i am in the same sort of muddle (as i have said before) as all the world seems to be in with respect to free will, yet with everything supposed to have been foreseen or pre-ordained. farewell, my dear gray, with many thanks for your interesting letter. your unmerciful correspondent. c. darwin. charles darwin to h.w. bates. down, december [ ]. my dear sir, i thank you for your extremely interesting letter, and valuable references, though god knows when i shall come again to this part of my subject. one cannot of course judge of style when one merely hears a paper (on mimetic butterflies, read before the linnean soc., november , . for my father's opinion of it when published, see below.), but yours seemed to me very clear and good. believe me that i estimate its value most highly. under a general point of view, i am quite convinced (hooker and huxley took the same view some months ago) that a philosophic view of nature can solely be driven into naturalists by treating special subjects as you have done. under a special point of view, i think you have solved one of the most perplexing problems which could be given to solve. i am glad to hear from hooker that the linnean society will give plates if you can get drawings... do not complain of want of advice during your travels; i dare say part of your great originality of views may be due to the necessity of sel-exertion of thought. i can understand that your reception at the british museum would damp you; they are a very good set of men, but not the sort to appreciate your work. in fact i have long thought that too much systematic work [and] description somehow blunts the faculties. the general public appreciates a good dose of reasoning, or generalisation, with new and curious remarks on habits, final causes, etc. etc., far more than do the regular naturalists. i am extremely glad to hear that you have begun your travels... i am very busy, but i shall be truly glad to render any aid which i can by reading your first chapter or two. i do not think i shall be able to correct style, for this reason, that after repeated trials i find i cannot correct my own style till i see the ms. in type. some are born with a power of good writing, like wallace; others like myself and lyell have to labour very hard and slowly at every sentence. i find it a very good plan, when i cannot get a difficult discussion to please me, to fancy that some one comes into the room and asks me what i am doing; and then try at once and explain to the imaginary person what it is all about. i have done this for one paragraph to myself several times, and sometimes to mrs. darwin, till i see how the subject ought to go. it is, i think, good to read one's ms. aloud. but style to me is a great difficulty; yet some good judges think i have succeeded, and i say this to encourage you. what i think i can do will be to tell you whether parts had better be shortened. it is good, i think, to dash "in media res," and work in later any descriptions of country or any historical details which may be necessary. murray likes lots of wood-cuts--give some by all means of ants. the public appreciate monkeys--our poor cousins. what sexual differences are there in monkeys? have you kept them tame? if so, about their expression. i fear that you will hardly read my vile hand-writing, but i cannot without killing trouble write better. you shall have my candid opinion on your ms., but remember it is hard to judge from ms., one reads slowly, and heavy parts seem much heavier. a first-rate judge thought my journal very poor; now that it is in print, i happen to know, he likes it. i am sure you will understand why i am so egotistical. i was a little disappointed in wallace's book ('travels on the amazon and rio negro,' .) on the amazon; hardly facts enough. on the other hand, in gosse's book (probably the 'naturalist's sojourn in jamaica,' .) there is not reasoning enough to my taste. heaven knows whether you will care to read all this scribbling... i am glad you had a pleasant day with hooker (in a letter to sir j.d. hooker (december ), my father wrote: "i am very glad to hear that you like bates. i have seldom in my life been more struck with a man's power of mind."), he is an admirably good man in every sense. [the following extract from a letter to mr. bates on the same subject is interesting as giving an idea of the plan followed by my father in writing his 'naturalist's voyage:' "as an old hackneyed author, let me give you a bit of advice, viz. to strike out every word which is not quite necessary to the current subject, and which could not interest a stranger. i constantly asked myself, would a stranger care for this? and struck out or left in accordingly. i think too much pains cannot be taken in making the style transparently clear and throwing eloquence to the dogs." mr. bates's book, 'the naturalist on the amazons,' was published in , but the following letter may be given here rather than in its due chronological position:] charles darwin to h.w. bates. down, april , . dear bates, i have finished volume i. my criticisms may be condensed into a single sentence, namely, that it is the best work of natural history travels ever published in england. your style seems to me admirable. nothing can be better than the discussion on the struggle for existence, and nothing better than the description of the forest scenery. (in a letter to lyell my father wrote: "he [i.e. mr. bates] is second only to humboldt in describing a tropical forest.") it is a grand book, and whether or not it sells quickly, it will last. you have spoken out boldly on species; and boldness on the subject seems to get rarer and rarer. how beautifully illustrated it is. the cut on the back is most tasteful. i heartily congratulate you on its publication. the "athenaeum" ("i have read the first volume of bates's book; it is capital, and i think the best natural history travels ever published in england. he is bold about species, etc., and the "athenaeum" coolly says 'he bends his facts' for this purpose."--(from a letter to sir j.d. hooker.)) was rather cold, as it always is, and insolent in the highest degree about your leading facts. have you seen the "reader"? i can send it to you if you have not seen it... charles darwin to asa gray. down, december [ ]. my dear gray, many and cordial thanks for your two last most valuable notes. what a thing it is that when you receive this we may be at war, and we two be bound, as good patriots, to hate each other, though i shall find this hating you very hard work. how curious it is to see two countries, just like two angry and silly men, taking so opposite a view of the same transaction! i fear there is no shadow of doubt we shall fight if the two southern rogues are not given up. (the confederate commissioners slidell and mason were forcibly removed from the "trent", a west india mail steamer on november , . the news that the u.s. agreed to release them reached england on january , .) and what a wretched thing it will be if we fight on the side of slavery. no doubt it will be said that we fight to get cotton; but i fully believe that this has not entered into the motive in the least. well, thank heaven, we private individuals have nothing to do with so awful a responsibility. again, how curious it is that you seem to think that you can conquer the south; and i never meet a soul, even those who would most wish it, who thinks it possible--that is, to conquer and retain it. i do not suppose the mass of people in your country will believe it, but i feel sure if we do go to war it will be with the utmost reluctance by all classes, ministers of government and all. time will show, and it is no use writing or thinking about it. i called the other day on dr. boott, and was pleased to find him pretty well and cheerful. i see, by the way, he takes quite an english opinion of american affairs, though an american in heart. (dr. boott was born in the u.s.) buckle might write a chapter on opinion being entirely dependent on longitude! ... with respect to design, i feel more inclined to show a white flag than to fire my usual long-range shot. i like to try and ask you a puzzling question, but when you return the compliment i have great doubts whether it is a fair way of arguing. if anything is designed, certainly man must be: one's "inner consciousness" (though a false guide) tells one so; yet i cannot admit that man's rudimentary mammae... were designed. if i was to say i believed this, i should believe it in the same incredible manner as the orthodox believe the trinity in unity. you say that you are in a haze; i am in thick mud; the orthodox would say in fetid, abominable mud; yet i cannot keep out of the question. my dear gray, i have written a deal of nonsense. yours most cordially, c. darwin. . [owing to the illness from scarlet fever of one of his boys, he took a house at bournemouth in the autumn. he wrote to dr. gray from southampton (august , ):-- "we are a wretched family, and ought to be exterminated. we slept here to rest our poor boy on his journey to bournemouth, and my poor dear wife sickened with scarlet fever, and has had it pretty sharply, but is recovering well. there is no end of trouble in this weary world. i shall not feel safe till we are all at home together, and when that will be i know not. but it is foolish complaining." dr. gray used to send postage stamps to the scarlet fever patient; with regard to this good-natured deed my father wrote-- "i must just recur to stamps; my little man has calculated that he will now have stamps which no other boy in the school has. here is a triumph. your last letter was plaistered with many coloured stamps, and he long surveyed the envelope in bed with much quiet satisfaction." the greater number of the letters of deal with the orchid work, but the wave of conversion to evolution was still spreading, and reviews and letters bearing on the subject still came in numbers. as an example of the odd letters he received may be mentioned one which arrived in january of this year "from a german homoeopathic doctor, an ardent admirer of the 'origin.' had himself published nearly the same sort of book, but goes much deeper. explains the origin of plants and animals on the principles of homoeopathy or by the law of spirality. book fell dead in germany. therefore would i translate it and publish it in england."] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, [january?] [ ]. my dear huxley, i am heartily glad of your success in the north (this refers to two of mr. huxley's lectures, given before the philosophical institution of edinburgh in . the substance of them is given in 'man's place in nature.'), and thank you for your note and slip. by jove you have attacked bigotry in its stronghold. i thought you would have been mobbed. i am so glad that you will publish your lectures. you seem to have kept a due medium between extreme boldness and caution. i am heartily glad that all went off so well. i hope mrs. huxley is pretty well... i must say one word on the hybrid question. no doubt you are right that here is a great hiatus in the argument; yet i think you overrate it--you never allude to the excellent evidence of varieties of verbascum and nicotiana being partially sterile together. it is curious to me to read (as i have to-day) the greatest crossing gardener utterly pooh-poohing the distinction which botanists make on this head, and insisting how frequently crossed varieties produce sterile offspring. do oblige me by reading the latter half of my primula paper in the 'linn. journal,' for it leads me to suspect that sterility will hereafter have to be largely viewed as an acquired or selected character--a view which i wish i had had facts to maintain in the 'origin.' (the view here given will be discussed in the chapter on hetero-styled plants.) charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, january [ ]. my dear hooker, many thanks for your last sunday's letter, which was one of the pleasantest i ever received in my life. we are all pretty well redivivus, and i am at work again. i thought it best to make a clean breast to asa gray; and told him that the boston dinner, etc. etc., had quite turned my stomach, and that i almost thought it would be good for the peace of the world if the united states were split up; on the other hand, i said that i groaned to think of the slave-holders being triumphant, and that the difficulties of making a line of separation were fearful. i wonder what he will say... your notion of the aristocrat being kenspeckle, and the best men of a good lot being thus easily selected is new to me, and striking. the 'origin' having made you in fact a jolly old tory, made us all laugh heartily. i have sometimes speculated on this subject; primogeniture (my father had a strong feeling as to the injustice of primogeniture, and in a similar spirit was often indignant over the unfair wills that appear from time to time. he would declare energetically that if he were law-giver no will should be valid that was not published in the testator's lifetime; and this he maintained would prevent much of the monstrous injustice and meanness apparent in so many wills.) is dreadfully opposed to selection; suppose the first-born bull was necessarily made by each farmer the begetter of his stock! on the other hand, as you say, ablest men are continually raised to the peerage, and get crossed with the older lord-breeds, and the lords continually select the most beautiful and charming women out of the lower ranks; so that a good deal of indirect selection improves the lords. certainly i agree with you the present american row has a very torifying influence on us all. i am very glad to hear you are beginning to print the 'genera;' it is a wonderful satisfaction to be thus brought to bed, indeed it is one's chief satisfaction, i think, though one knows that another bantling will soon be developing... charles darwin to maxwell masters. (dr. masters is a well-known vegetable teratologist, and has been for many years the editor of the "gardeners' chronicle".) down, february [ ]. my dear sir, i am much obliged to you for sending me your article (refers to a paper on "vegetable morphology," by dr. masters, in the 'british and foreign medic-chirurgical review' for ), which i have just read with much interest. the history, and a good deal besides, was quite new to me. it seems to me capitally done, and so clearly written. you really ought to write your larger work. you speak too generously of my book; but i must confess that you have pleased me not a little; for no one, as far as i know, has ever remarked on what i say on classification--a part, which when i wrote it, pleased me. with many thanks to you for sending me your article, pray believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely, c. darwin. [in the spring of this year ( ) my father read the second volume of buckle's 'history of civilisation." the following strongly expressed opinion about it may be worth quoting:-- "have you read buckle's second volume? it has interested me greatly; i do not care whether his views are right or wrong, but i should think they contained much truth. there is a noble love of advancement and truth throughout; and to my taste he is the very best writer of the english language that ever lived, let the other be who he may."] charles darwin to asa gray. down, march [ ]. my dear gray, thanks for the newspapers (though they did contain digs at england), and for your note of february th. it is really almost a pleasure to receive stabs from so smooth, polished, and sharp a dagger as your pen. i heartily wish i could sympathise more fully with you, instead of merely hating the south. we cannot enter into your feelings; if scotland were to rebel, i presume we should be very wrath, but i do not think we should care a penny what other nations thought. the millennium must come before nations love each other; but try and do not hate me. think of me, if you will as a poor blinded fool. i fear the dreadful state of affairs must dull your interest in science... i believe that your pamphlet has done my book great good; and i thank you from my heart for myself; and believing that the views are in large part true, i must think that you have done natural science a good turn. natural selection seems to be making a little progress in england and on the continent; a new german edition is called for, and a french (in june, , my father wrote to dr. gray: "i received, or days ago, a french translation of the 'origin,' by a madlle. royer, who must be one of the cleverest and oddest women in europe: is an ardent deist, and hates christianity, and declares that natural selection and the struggle for life will explain all morality, nature of man, politics, etc. etc.! she makes some very curious and good hits, and says she shall publish a book on these subjects." madlle. royer added foot-notes to her translation, and in many places where the author expresses great doubt, she explains the difficulty, or points out that no real difficulty exists.) one has just appeared. one of the best men, though at present unknown, who has taken up these views, is mr. bates; pray read his 'travels in amazonia,' when they appear; they will be very good, judging from ms. of the first two chapters. ... again i say, do not hate me. ever yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. carlton terrace, southampton (the house of his son william.), august , [ ]. ... i heartily hope that you (i.e. 'the antiquity of man.') will be out in october... you say that the bishop and owen will be down on you; the latter hardly can, for i was assured that owen in his lectures this spring advanced as a new idea that wingless birds had lost their wings by disuse, also that magpies stole spoons, etc., from a remnant of some instinct like that of the bower-bird, which ornaments its playing-passage with pretty feathers. indeed, i am told that he hinted plainly that all birds are descended from one... your p.s. touches on, as it seems to me, very difficult points. i am glad to see [that] in the 'origin,' i only say that the naturalists generally consider that low organisms vary more than high; and this i think certainly is the general opinion. i put the statement this way to show that i considered it only an opinion probably true. i must own that i do not at all trust even hooker's contrary opinion, as i feel pretty sure that he has not tabulated any result. i have some materials at home, i think i attempted to make this point out, but cannot remember the result. mere variability, though the necessary foundation of all modifications, i believe to be almost always present, enough to allow of any amount of selected change; so that it does not seem to me at all incompatible that a group which at any one period (or during all successive periods) varies less, should in the long course of time have undergone more modification than a group which is generally more variable. placental animals, e.g. might be at each period less variable than marsupials, and nevertheless have undergone more differentiation and development than marsupials, owing to some advantage, probably brain development. i am surprised, but do not pretend to form an opinion at hooker's statement that higher species, genera, etc., are best limited. it seems to me a bold statement. looking to the 'origin,' i see that i state that the productions of the land seem to change quicker than those of the sea (chapter x., page , d edition), and i add there is some reason to believe that organisms considered high in the scale change quicker than those that are low. i remember writing these sentences after much deliberation... i remember well feeling much hesitation about putting in even the guarded sentences which i did. my doubts, i remember, related to the rate of change of the radiata in the secondary formation, and of the foraminifera in the oldest tertiary beds... good night, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, october [ ]. ... i found here (on his return from bournemouth.) a short and very kind note of falconer, with some pages of his 'elephant memoir,' which will be published, in which he treats admirably on long persistence of type. i thought he was going to make a good and crushing attack on me, but to my great satisfaction, he ends by pointing out a loophole, and adds (falconer, "on the american fossil elephant," in the 'nat. hist. review,' , page . the words preceding those cited by my father make the meaning of his quotation clearer. the passage begins as follows: "the inferences which i draw from these facts are not opposed to one of the leading propositions of darwin's theory. with him," etc. etc.) "with him i have no faith that the mammoth and other extinct elephants made their appearance suddenly... the most rational view seems to be that they are the modified descendants of earlier progenitors, etc." this is capital. there will not be soon one good palaeontologist who believes in immutability. falconer does not allow for the proboscidean group being a failing one, and therefore not likely to be giving off new races. he adds that he does not think natural selection suffices. i do not quite see the force of his argument, and he apparently overlooks that i say over and over again that natural selection can do nothing without variability, and that variability is subject to the most complex fixed laws... [in his letters to sir j.d. hooker, about the end of this year, are occasional notes on the progress of the 'variation of animals and plants.' thus on november th he wrote: "i hardly know why i am a little sorry, but my present work is leading me to believe rather more in the direct action of physical conditions. i presume i regret it, because it lessens the glory of natural selection, and is so confoundedly doubtful. perhaps i shall change again when i get all my facts under one point of view, and a pretty hard job this will be." again, on december nd, "to-day i have begun to think of arranging my concluding chapters on inheritance, reversion, selection, and such things, and am fairly paralyzed how to begin and how to end, and what to do, with my huge piles of materials."] charles darwin to asa gray. down, november [ ]. my dear gray, when your note of october th and th (chiefly about max muller) arrived, i was nearly at the end of the same book ('lectures on the science of language,' st edition .), and had intended recommending you to read it. i quite agree that it is extremely interesting, but the latter part about the first origin of language much the least satisfactory. it is a marvellous problem...[there are] covert sneers at me, which he seems to get the better of towards the close of the book. i cannot quite see how it will forward "my cause," as you call it; but i can see how any one with literary talent (i do not feel up to it) could make great use of the subject in illustration. (language was treated in the manner here indicated by sir c. lyell in the 'antiquity of man.' also by prof. schleicher, whose pamphlet was fully noticed in the "reader", february , (as i learn from one of prof. huxley's 'lay sermons').) what pretty metaphors you would make from it! i wish some one would keep a lot of the most noisy monkeys, half free, and study their means of communication! a book has just appeared here which will, i suppose, make a noise, by bishop colenso ('the pentateuch and book of joshua critically examined,' six parts, - .), who, judging from extracts, smashes most of the old testament. talking of books, i am in the middle of one which pleases me, though it is very innocent food, viz., miss coopers 'journal of a naturalist.' who is she? she seems a very clever woman, and gives a capital account of the battle between our and your weeds. does it not hurt your yankee pride that we thrash you so confoundedly? i am sure mrs. gray will stick up for your own weeds. ask her whether they are not more honest, downright good sort of weeds. the book gives an extremely pretty picture of one of your villages; but i see your autumn, though so much more gorgeous than ours, comes on sooner, and that is one comfort... charles darwin to h.w. bates. down, november [ ]. dear bates, i have just finished, after several reads, your paper. (this refers to mr. bates's paper, "contributions to an insect fauna of the amazons valley" ('linn. soc. trans.' xxiii., ), in which the now familiar subject of mimicry was founded. my father wrote a short review of it in the 'natural history review,' , page , parts of which occur in this review almost verbatim in the later editions of the 'origin of species.' a striking passage occurs showing the difficulties of the case from a creationist's point of view:-- "by what means, it may be asked, have so many butterflies of the amazonian region acquired their deceptive dress? most naturalists will answer that they were thus clothed from the hour of their creation--an answer which will generally be so far triumphant that it can be met only by long-drawn arguments; but it is made at the expense of putting an effectual bar to all further enquiry. in this particular case, moreover, the creationist will meet with special difficulties; for many of the mimicking forms of leptalis can be shown by a graduated series to be merely varieties of one species; other mimickers are undoubtedly distinct species, or even distinct genera. so again, some of the mimicked forms can be shown to be merely varieties; but the greater number must be ranked as distinct species. hence the creationist will have to admit that some of these forms have become imitators, by means of the laws of variation, whilst others he must look at as separately created under their present guise; he will further have to admit that some have been created in imitation of forms not themselves created as we now see them, but due to the laws of variation? prof. agassiz, indeed, would think nothing of this difficulty; for he believes that not only each species and each variety, but that groups of individuals, though identically the same, when inhabiting distinct countries, have been all separately created in due proportional numbers to the wants of each land. not many naturalists will be content thus to believe that varieties and individuals have been turned out all ready made, almost as a manufacturer turns out toys according to the temporary demand of the market.") in my opinion it is one of the most remarkable and admirable papers i ever read in my life. the mimetic cases are truly marvellous, and you connect excellently a host of analogous facts. the illustrations are beautiful, and seem very well chosen; but it would have saved the reader not a little trouble, if the name of each had been engraved below each separate figure. no doubt this would have put the engraver into fits, as it would have destroyed the beauty of the plate. i am not at all surprised at such a paper having consumed much time. i am rejoiced that i passed over the whole subject in the 'origin,' for i should have made a precious mess of it. you have most clearly stated and solved a wonderful problem. no doubt with most people this will be the cream of the paper; but i am not sure that all your facts and reasonings on variation, and on the segregation of complete and semi-complete species, is not really more, or at least as valuable, a part. i never conceived the process nearly so clearly before; one feels present at the creation of new forms. i wish, however, you had enlarged a little more on the pairing of similar varieties; a rather more numerous body of facts seems here wanted. then, again, what a host of curious miscellaneous observations there are--as on related sexual and individual variability: these will some day, if i live, be a treasure to me. with respect to mimetic resemblance being so common with insects, do you not think it may be connected with their small size; they cannot defend themselves; they cannot escape by flight, at least, from birds, therefore they escape by trickery and deception? i have one serious criticism to make, and that is about the title of the paper; i cannot but think that you ought to have called prominent attention in it to the mimetic resemblances. your paper is too good to be largely appreciated by the mob of naturalists without souls; but, rely on it, that it will have lasting value, and i cordially congratulate you on your first great work. you will find, i should think, that wallace will fully appreciate it. how gets on your book? keep your spirits up. a book is no light labour. i have been better lately, and working hard, but my health is very indifferent. how is your health? believe me, dear bates, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. chapter .iv. -- the spread of evolution. 'variation of animals and plants' - . [his book on animals and plants under domestication was my father's chief employment in the year . his diary records the length of time spent over the composition of its chapters, and shows the rate at which he arranged and wrote out for printing the observations and deductions of several years. the three chapters in volume ii. on inheritance, which occupy pages of print, were begun in january and finished on april st; the five on crossing, making pages, were written in eight weeks, while the two chapters on selection, covering pages, were begun on june th and finished on july th. the work was more than once interrupted by ill health, and in september, what proved to be the beginning of a six month's illness, forced him to leave home for the water-cure at malvern. he returned in october and remained ill and depressed, in spite of the hopeful opinion of one of the most cheery and skilful physicians of the day. thus he wrote to sir j.d. hooker in november:-- "dr. brinton has been here (recommended by busk); he does not believe my brain or heart are primarily affected, but i have been so steadily going down hill, i cannot help doubting whether i can ever crawl a little uphill again. unless i can, enough to work a little, i hope my life may be very short, for to lie on a sofa all day and do nothing but give trouble to the best and kindest of wives and good dear children is dreadful." the minor works in this year were a short paper in the 'natural history review' (n.s. vol. iii. page ), entitled "on the so-called 'auditor-sac' of cirripedes," and one in the 'geological society's journal' (vol. xix), on the "thickness of the pampaean formation near buenos ayres." the paper on cirripedes was called forth by the criticisms of a german naturalist krohn (krohn stated that the structures described by my father as ovaries were in reality salivary glands, also that the oviduct runs down to the orifice described in the 'monograph of the cirripedia' as the auditory meatus.), and is of some interest in illustration of my father's readiness to admit an error. with regard to the spread of a belief in evolution, it could not yet be said that the battle was won, but the growth of belief was undoubtedly rapid. so that, for instance, charles kingsley could write to f.d. maurice (kingsley's 'life,' ii, page .): "the state of the scientific mind is most curious; darwin is conquering everywhere, and rushing in like a flood, by the mere force of truth and fact." mr. huxley was as usual active in guiding and stimulating the growing tendency to tolerate or accept the views set forth in the 'origin of species.' he gave a series of lectures to working men at the school of mines in november, . these were printed in from the shorthand notes of mr. may, as six little blue books, price pence each, under the title, 'our knowledge of the causes of organic nature.' when published they were read with interest by my father, who thus refers to them in a letter to sir j.d. hooker:-- "i am very glad you like huxley's lectures. i have been very much struck with them, especially with the 'philosophy of induction.' i have quarrelled with him for overdoing sterility and ignoring cases from gartner and kolreuter about sterile varieties. his geology is obscure; and i rather doubt about man's mind and language. but it seems to me admirably done, and, as you say, "oh my," about the praise of the 'origin.' i can't help liking it, which makes me rather ashamed of myself." my father admired the clearness of exposition shown in the lectures, and in the following letter urges their author to make use of his powers for the advantage of students:] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. november [ ]. i want to make a suggestion to you, but which may probably have occurred to you. -- was reading your lectures and ended by saying, "i wish he would write a book." i answered, "he has just written a great book on the skull." "i don't call that a book," she replied, and added, "i want something that people can read; he does write so well." now, with your ease in writing, and with knowledge at your fingers' ends, do you not think you could write a popular treatise on zoology? of course it would be some waste of time, but i have been asked more than a dozen times to recommend something for a beginner and could only think of carpenter's zoology. i am sure that a striking treatise would do real service to science by educating naturalists. if you were to keep a portfolio open for a couple of years, and throw in slips of paper as subjects crossed your mind, you would soon have a skeleton (and that seems to me the difficulty) on which to put the flesh and colours in your inimitable manner. i believe such a book might have a brilliant success, but i did not intend to scribble so much about it. give my kindest remembrance to mrs. huxley, and tell her i was looking at 'enoch arden,' and as i know how she admires tennyson, i must call her attention to two sweetly pretty lines (page )... ... and he meant, he said he meant, perhaps he meant, or partly meant, you well. such a gem as this is enough to make me young again, and like poetry with pristine fervour. my dear huxley, yours affectionately, ch. darwin. [in another letter (january ) he returns to the above suggestion, though he was in general strongly opposed to men of science giving up to the writing of text-books, or to teaching, the time that might otherwise have been given to original research. "i knew there was very little chance of your having time to write a popular treatise on zoology, but you are about the one man who could do it. at the time i felt it would be almost a sin for you to do it, as it would of course destroy some original work. on the other hand i sometimes think that general and popular treatises are almost as important for the progress of science as original work." the series of letters will continue the history of the year .] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, january [ ]. my dear hooker, i am burning with indignation and must exhale... i could not get to sleep till past last night for indignation (it would serve no useful purpose if i were to go into the matter which so strongly roused my father's anger. it was a question of literary dishonesty, in which a friend was the sufferer, but which in no way affected himself.)... now for pleasanter subjects; we were all amused at your defence of stamp collecting and collecting generally... but, by jove, i can hardly stomach a grown man collecting stamps. who would ever have thought of your collecting wedgwoodware! but that is wholly different, like engravings or pictures. we are degenerate descendants of old josiah w., for we have not a bit of pretty ware in the house. ... notwithstanding the very pleasant reason you give for our not enjoying a holiday, namely, that we have no vices, it is a horrid bore. i have been trying for health's sake to be idle, with no success. what i shall now have to do, will be to erect a tablet in down church, "sacred to the memory, etc.," and officially die, and then publish books, "by the late charles darwin," for i cannot think what has come over me of late; i always suffered from the excitement of talking, but now it has become ludicrous. i talked lately / hours (broken by tea by myself) with my nephew, and i was [ill] half the night. it is a fearful evil for self and family. good-night. ever yours. c. darwin. [the following letter to sir julius von haast (sir julius von haast was a german by birth, but had long been resident in new zealand. he was, in , government geologist to the province of canterbury.), is an example of the sympathy which he felt with the spread and growth of science in the colonies. it was a feeling not expressed once only, but was frequently present in his mind, and often found utterance. when we, at cambridge, had the satisfaction of receiving sir j. von haast into our body as a doctor of science (july ), i had the opportunity of hearing from him of the vivid pleasure which this, and other letters from my father, gave him. it was pleasant to see how strong had been the impression made by my father's warm-hearted sympathy--an impression which seemed, after more than twenty years, to be as fresh as when it was first received:] charles darwin to julius von haast. down, january [ ]. dear sir, i thank you most sincerely for sending me your address and the geological report. (address to the 'philosophical institute of canterbury (n.z.).' the "report" is given in "the new zealand government gazette, province of canterbury", october .) i have seldom in my life read anything more spirited and interesting than your address. the progress of your colony makes one proud, and it is really admirable to see a scientific institution founded in so young a nation. i thank you for the very honourable notice of my 'origin of species.' you will easily believe how much i have been interested by your striking facts on the old glacial period, and i suppose the world might be searched in vain for so grand a display of terraces. you have, indeed, a noble field for scientific research and discovery. i have been extremely much interested by what you say about the tracks of supposed [living] mammalia. might i ask, if you succeed in discovering what the creatures are, you would have the great kindness to inform me? perhaps they may turn out something like the solenhofen bird creature, with its long tail and fingers, with claws to its wings! i may mention that in south america, in completely uninhabited regions, i found spring rat-traps, baited with cheese, were very successful in catching the smaller mammals. i would venture to suggest to you to urge on some of the capable members of your institution to observe annually the rate and manner of spreading of european weeds and insects, and especially to observe what native plants most fail; this latter point has never been attended to. do the introduced hive-bees replace any other insect? etc. all such points are, in my opinion, great desiderata in science. what an interesting discovery that of the remains of prehistoric man! believe me, dear sir, with the most cordial respect and thanks, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to camille dareste. (professor dareste is a well-known worker in animal teratology. he was in living at lille, but has since then been called to paris. my father took a special interest in dareste's work on the production of monsters, as bearing on the causes of variation.) down, february [ ]. dear and respected sir, i thank you sincerely for your letter and your pamphlet. i had heard (i think in one of m. quatrefages' books) of your work, and was most anxious to read it, but did not know where to find it. you could not have made me a more valuable present. i have only just returned home, and have not yet read your work; when i do if i wish to ask any questions i will venture to trouble you. your approbation of my book on species has gratified me extremely. several naturalists in england, north america, and germany, have declared that their opinions on the subject have in some degree been modified, but as far as i know, my book has produced no effect whatever in france, and this makes me the more gratified by your very kind expression of approbation. pray believe me, dear sir, with much respect, yours faithfully and obliged, ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, i am astonished at your note, i have not seen the "athenaeum" (in the 'antiquity of man,' first edition, page , lyell criticised somewhat severely owen's account of the difference between the human and simian brains. the number of the "athenaeum" here referred to ( , page ) contains a reply by professor owen to lyell's strictures. the surprise expressed by my father was at the revival of a controversy which every one believed to be closed. prof. huxley ("medical times", october , , quoted in 'man's place in nature,' page ) spoke of the "two years during which this preposterous controversy has dragged its weary length." and this no doubt expressed a very general feeling.) but i have sent for it, and may get it to-morrow; and will then say what i think. i have read lyell's book. ['the antiquity of man.'] the whole certainty struck me as a compilation, but of the highest class, for when possible the facts have been verified on the spot, making it almost an original work. the glacial chapters seem to me best, and in parts magnificent. i could hardly judge about man, as all the gloss of novelty was completely worn off. but certainly the aggregation of the evidence produced a very striking effect on my mind. the chapter comparing language and changes of species, seems most ingenious and interesting. he has shown great skill in picking out salient points in the argument for change of species; but i am deeply disappointed (i do not mean personally) to find that his timidity prevents him giving any judgment... from all my communications with him i must ever think that he has really entirely lost faith in the immutability of species; and yet one of his strongest sentences is nearly as follows: "if it should ever (the italics are not lyell's.) be rendered highly probable that species change by variation and natural selection," etc., etc. i had hoped he would have guided the public as far as his own belief went... one thing does please me on this subject, that he seems to appreciate your work. no doubt the public or a part may be induced to think that as he gives to us a larger space than to lamarck, he must think there is something in our views. when reading the brain chapter, it struck me forcibly that if he had said openly that he believed in change of species, and as a consequence that man was derived from some quadrumanous animal, it would have been very proper to have discussed by compilation the differences in the most important organ, viz. the brain. as it is, the chapter seems to me to come in rather by the head and shoulders. i do not think (but then i am as prejudiced as falconer and huxley, or more so) that it is too severe; it struck me as given with judicial force. it might perhaps be said with truth that he had no business to judge on a subject on which he knows nothing; but compilers must do this to a certain extent. (you know i value and rank high compilers, being one myself!) i have taken you at your word, and scribbled at great length. if i get the "athenaeum" to-morrow, i will add my impression of owen's letter. ... the lyells are coming here on sunday evening to stay till wednesday. i dread it, but i must say how much disappointed i am that he has not spoken out on species, still less on man. and the best of the joke is that he thinks he has acted with the courage of a martyr of old. i hope i may have taken an exaggerated view of his timidity, and shall particularly be glad of your opinion on this head. (on this subject my father wrote to sir joseph hooker: "cordial thanks for your deeply interesting letters about lyell, owen, and co. i cannot say how glad i am to hear that i have not been unjust about the species-question towards lyell. i feared i had been unreasonable.") when i got his book i turned over the pages, and saw he had discussed the subject of species, and said that i thought he would do more to convert the public than all of us, and now (which makes the case worse for me) i must, in common honesty, retract. i wish to heaven he had said not a word on the subject. wednesday morning: i have read the "athenaeum". i do not think lyell will be nearly so much annoyed as you expect. the concluding sentence is no doubt very stinging. no one but a good anatomist could unravel owen's letter; at least it is quite beyond me. ... lyell's memory plays him false when he says all anatomists were astonished at owen's paper ("on the characters, etc., of the class mammalia." 'linn. soc. journal,' ii, .); it was often quoted with approbation. i well remember lyell's admiration at this new classification! (do not repeat this.) i remember it, because, though i knew nothing whatever about the brain, i felt a conviction that a classification thus founded on a single character would break down, and it seemed to me a great error not to separate more completely the marsupialia... what an accursed evil it is that there should be all this quarrelling within, what ought to be, the peaceful realms of science. i will go to my own present subject of inheritance and forget it all for a time. farewell, my dear old friend, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, february [ ]. ... if you have time to read you will be interested by parts of lyell's book on man; but i fear that the best part, about the glacial period, may be too geological for any one except a regular geologist. he quotes you at the end with gusto. by the way, he told me the other day how pleased some had been by hearing that they could purchase your pamphlet. the "parthenon" also speaks of it as the ablest contribution to the literature of the subject. it delights me when i see your work appreciated. the lyells come here this day week, and i shall grumble at his excessive caution... the public may well say, if such a man dare not or will not speak out his mind, how can we who are ignorant form even a guess on the subject? lyell was pleased when i told him lately that you thought that language might be used as an excellent illustration of derivation of species; you will see that he has an admirable chapter on this... i read cairns's excellent lecture (prof. j.e. cairns, 'the slave power, etc.: an attempt to explain the real issues involved in the american contest.' .), which shows so well how your quarrel arose from slavery. it made me for a time wish honestly for the north; but i could never help, though i tried, all the time thinking how we should be bullied and forced into a war by you, when you were triumphant. but i do most truly think it dreadful that the south, with its accursed slavery, should triumph, and spread the evil. i think if i had power, which thank god, i have not, i would let you conquer the border states, and all west of the mississippi, and then force you to acknowledge the cotton states. for do you not now begin to doubt whether you can conquer and hold them? i have inflicted a long tirade on you. "the times" is getting more detestable (but that is too weak a word) than ever. my good wife wishes to give it up, but i tell her that is a pitch of heroism to which only a woman is equal. to give up the "bloody old 'times'," as cobbett used to call it, would be to give up meat, drink and air. farewell, my dear gray, yours most truly, c. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, march , [ ]. ... i have been of course deeply interested by your book. ('antiquity of man.') i have hardly any remarks worth sending, but will scribble a little on what most interested me. but i will first get out what i hate saying, viz., that i have been greatly disappointed that you have not given judgment and spoken fairly out what you think about the derivation of species. i should have been contented if you had boldly said that species have not been separately created, and had thrown as much doubt as you like on how far variation and natural selection suffices. i hope to heaven i am wrong (and from what you say about whewell it seems so), but i cannot see how your chapters can do more good than an extraordinary able review. i think the "parthenon" is right, that you will leave the public in a fog. no doubt they may infer that as you give more space to myself, wallace, and hooker, than to lamarck, you think more of us. but i had always thought that your judgment would have been an epoch in the subject. all that is over with me, and i will only think on the admirable skill with which you have selected the striking points, and explained them. no praise can be too strong, in my opinion, for the inimitable chapter on language in comparison with species. (after speculating on the sudden appearance of individuals far above the average of the human race, lyell asks if such leaps upwards in the scale of intellect may not "have cleared at one bound the space which separated the higher stage of the unprogressive intelligence of the inferior animals from the first and lowest form of improvable reason manifested by man.") page --a sentence at the top of the page makes me groan... i know you will forgive me for writing with perfect freedom, for you must know how deeply i respect you as my old honoured guide and master. i heartily hope and expect that your book will have gigantic circulation and may do in many ways as much good as it ought to do. i am tired, so no more. i have written so briefly that you will have to guess my meaning. i fear my remarks are hardly worth sending. farewell, with kindest remembrance to lady lyell. ever yours, c. darwin. [mr. huxley has quoted (vol. i. page ) some passages from lyell's letters which show his state of mind at this time. the following passage, from a letter of march th to my father, is also of much interest:-- "my feelings, however, more than any thought about policy or expediency, prevent me from dogmatising as to the descent of man from the brutes, which, though i am prepared to accept it, takes away much of the charm from my speculations on the past relating to such matters... but you ought to be satisfied, as i shall bring hundreds towards you who, if i treated the matter more dogmatically, would have rebelled."] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, [march, ]. my dear lyell, i thank you for your very interesting and kind, i may say, charming letter. i feared you might be huffed for a little time with me. i know some men would have been so. i have hardly any more criticisms, anyhow, worth writing. but i may mention that i felt a little surprise that old b. de perthes ( - . see footnote below.) was not rather more honourably mentioned. i would suggest whether you could not leave out some references to the 'principles;' one for the real student is as good as a hundred, and it is rather irritating, and gives a feeling of incompleteness to the general reader to be often referred to other books. as you say that you have gone as far as you believe on the species question, i have not a word to say; but i must feel convinced that at times, judging from conversation, expressions, letters, etc., you have as completely given up belief in immutability of specific forms as i have done. i must still think a clear expression from you, if you could have given it, would have been potent with the public, and all the more so, as you formerly held opposite opinions. the more i work the more satisfied i become with variation and natural selection, but that part of the case i look at as less important, though more interesting to me personally. as you ask for criticisms on this head (and believe me that i should not have made them unasked), i may specify (pages , ) that such words as "mr. d. labours to show," "is believed by the author to throw light," would lead a common reader to think that you yourself do not at all agree, but merely think it fair to give my opinion. lastly, you refer repeatedly to my view as a modification of lamarck's doctrine of development and progression. if this is your deliberate opinion there is nothing to be said, but it does not seem so to me. plato, buffon, my grandfather before lamarck, and others, propounded the obvious views that if species were not created separately they must have descended from other species, and i can see nothing else in common between the 'origin' and lamarck. i believe this way of putting the case is very injurious to its acceptance, as it implies necessary progression, and closely connects wallace's and my views with what i consider, after two deliberate readings, as a wretched book, and one from which (i well remember my surprise) i gained nothing. but i know you rank it higher, which is curious, as it did not in the least shake your belief. but enough, and more than enough. please remember you have brought it all down on yourself!!! i am very sorry to hear about falconer's "reclamation." ("falconer, whom i referred to oftener than to any other author, says i have not done justice to the part he took in resuscitating the cave question, and says he shall come out with a separate paper to prove it. i offered to alter anything in the new edition, but this he declined.--c. lyell to c. darwin, march , ; lyell's 'life,' vol. ii. page .) i hate the very word, and have a sincere affection for him. did you ever read anything so wretched as the "athenaeum" reviews of you, and of huxley ('man's place in nature,' .) especially. your object to make man old, and huxley's object to degrade him. the wretched writer has not a glimpse what the discovery of scientific truth means. how splendid some pages are in huxley, but i fear the book will not be popular... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [march , ]. i should have thanked you sooner for the "athenaeum" and very pleasant previous note, but i have been busy, and not a little uncomfortable from frequent uneasy feeling of fullness, slight pain and tickling about the heart. but as i have no other symptoms of heart complaint i do not suppose it is affected... i have had a most kind and delightfully candid letter from lyell, who says he spoke out as far as he believes. i have no doubt his belief failed him as he wrote, for i feel sure that at times he no more believed in creation than you or i. i have grumbled a bit in my answer to him at his always classing my work as a modification of lamarck's, which it is no more than any author who did not believe in immutability of species, and did believe in descent. i am very sorry to hear from lyell that falconer is going to publish a formal reclamation of his own claims... it is cruel to think of it, but we must go to malvern in the middle of april; it is ruin to me. (he went to hartfield in sussex, on april , and to malvern in the autumn.)... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, march [ ]. my dear lyell, i have been much interested by your letters and enclosure, and thank you sincerely for giving me so much time when you must be so busy. what a curious letter from b. de p. [boucher de perthes]. he seems perfectly satisfied, and must be a very amiable man. i know something about his errors, and looked at his book many years ago, and am ashamed to think that i concluded the whole was rubbish! yet he has done for man something like what agassiz did for glaciers. (in his 'antiquites celtiques' ( ), boucher de perthes described the flint tools found at abbeville with bones of rhinoceros, hyaena, etc. "but the scientific world had no faith in the statement that works of art, however rude, had been met with in undisturbed beds of such antiquity." ('antiquity of man,' first edition, page ).) i cannot say that i agree with hooker about the public not liking to be told what to conclude, if coming from one in your position. but i am heartily sorry that i was led to make complaints, or something very like complaints, on the manner in which you have treated the subject, and still more so anything about myself. i steadily endeavour never to forget my firm belief that no one can at all judge about his own work. as for lamarck, as you have such a man as grove with you, you are triumphant; not that i can alter my opinion that to me it was an absolutely useless book. perhaps this was owing to my always searching books for facts, perhaps from knowing my grandfather's earlier and identically the same speculation. i will only further say that if i can analyse my own feelings (a very doubtful process), it is nearly as much for your sake as for my own, that i so much wish that your state of belief could have permitted you to say boldly and distinctly out that species were not separately created. i have generally told you the progress of opinion, as i have heard it, on the species question. a first-rate german naturalist (no doubt haeckel, whose monograph on the radiolaria was published in . in the same year professor w. preyer of jena published a dissertation on alca impennis, which was one of the earliest pieces of special work on the basis of the 'origin of species.') (i now forget the name!), who has lately published a grand folio, has spoken out to the utmost extent on the 'origin.' de candolle, in a very good paper on "oaks," goes, in asa gray's opinion, as far as he himself does; but de candolle, in writing to me, says we, "we think this and that;" so that i infer he really goes to the full extent with me, and tells me of a french good botanical palaeontologist (name forgotten) (the marquis de saporta.), who writes to de candolle that he is sure that my views will ultimately prevail. but i did not intend to have written all this. it satisfies me with the final results, but this result, i begin to see, will take two or three lifetimes. the entomologists are enough to keep the subject back for half a century. i really pity your having to balance the claims of so many eager aspirants for notice; it is clearly impossible to satisfy all... certainly i was struck with the full and due honour you conferred on falconer. i have just had a note from hooker... i am heartily glad that you have made him so conspicuous; he is so honest, so candid, and so modest... i have read --. i could find nothing to lay hold of, which in one sense i am very glad of, as i should hate a controversy; but in another sense i am very sorry for, as i long to be in the same boat with all my friends... i am heartily glad the book is going off so well. ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [march , ]. ... many thanks for "athenaeum", received this morning, and to be returned to-morrow morning. who would have ever thought of the old stupid "athenaeum" taking to oken-like transcendental philosophy written in owenian style! (this refers to a review of dr. carpenter's 'introduction to the study of foraminifera,' that appeared in the "athenaeum" of march , (page ). the reviewer attacks dr. carpenter's views in as much as they support the doctrine of descent; and he upholds spontaneous generation (heterogeny) in place of what dr. carpenter, naturally enough, believed in, viz. the genetic connection of living and extinct foraminifera. in the next number is a letter by dr. carpenter, which chiefly consists of a protest against the reviewer's somewhat contemptuous classification of dr. carpenter and my father as disciple and master. in the course of the letter dr. carpenter says--page :-- "under the influence of his foregone conclusion that i have accepted mr. darwin as my master, and his hypothesis as my guide, your reviewer represents me as blind to the significance of the general fact stated by me, that 'there has been no advance in the foraminiferous type from the palaeozoic period to the present time.' but for such a foregone conclusion he would have recognised in this statement the expression of my conviction that the present state of scientific evidence, instead of sanctioning the idea that the descendants of the primitive type or types of foraminifera can ever rise to any higher grade, justifies the anti-darwinian influence, that however widely they diverge from each other and from their originals, they still remain foraminifera.")... it will be some time before we see "slime, protoplasm, etc.," generating a new animal. (on the same subject my father wrote in : "it is often said that all the conditions for the first production of a living organism are now present, which could ever have been present. but if (and oh! what a big if!) we could conceive in some warm little pond, with all sorts of ammonia and phosphoric salts, light, heat, electricity, etc., present, that a proteine compound was chemically formed ready to undergo still more complex changes, at the present day such matter would be instantly devoured or absorbed, which would not have been the case before living creatures were formed.") but i have long regretted that i truckled to public opinion, and used the pentateuchal term of creation (this refers to a passage in which the reviewer of dr. carpenter's books speaks of "an operation of force," or "a concurrence of forces which have now no place in nature," as being, "a creative force, in fact, which darwin could only express in pentateuchal terms as the primordial form 'into which life was first breathed.'" the conception of expressing a creative force as a primordial form is the reviewer's.), by which i really meant "appeared" by some wholly unknown process. it is mere rubbish, thinking at present of the origin of life; one might as well think of the origin of matter. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, friday night [april , ]. my dear hooker, i have heard from oliver that you will be now at kew, and so i am going to amuse myself by scribbling a bit. i hope you have thoroughly enjoyed your tour. i never in my life saw anything like the spring flowers this year. what a lot of interesting things have been lately published. i liked extremely your review of de candolle. what an awfully severe article that by falconer on lyell ("athenaeum", april , , page . the writer asserts that justice has not been done either to himself or mr. prestwich--that lyell has not made it clear that it was their original work which supplied certain material for the 'antiquity of man.' falconer attempts to draw an unjust distinction between a "philosopher" (here used as a polite word for compiler) like sir charles lyell, and original observers, presumably such as himself, and mr. prestwich. lyell's reply was published in the "athenaeum", april , . it ought to be mentioned that a letter from mr. prestwich ("athenaeum", page ), which formed part of the controversy, though of the nature of a reclamation, was written in a very different spirit and tone from dr. falconer's.); i am very sorry for it; i think falconer on his side does not do justice to old perthes and schmerling... i shall be very curious to see how he [lyell] answers it t-morrow. (i have been compelled to take in the "athenaeum" for a while.) i am very sorry that falconer should have written so spitefully, even if there is some truth in his accusations; i was rather disappointed in carpenter's letter, no one could have given a better answer, but the chief object of his letter seems to me to be to show that though he has touched pitch he is not defiled. no one would suppose he went so far as to believe all birds came from one progenitor. i have written a letter to the "athenaeum" ("athenaeum", , page : "the view given by me on the origin or derivation of species, whatever its weaknesses may be, connects (as has been candidly admitted by some of its opponents, such as pictet, bronn, etc.), by an intelligible thread of reasoning, a multitude of facts: such as the formation of domestic races by man's selection,--the classification and affinities of all organic beings,--the innumerable gradations in structure and instincts,--the similarity of pattern in the hand, wing, or paddle of animals of the same great class,--the existence of organs become rudimentary by disuse,--the similarity of an embryonic reptile, bird, and mammal, with the retention of traces of an apparatus fitted for aquatic respiration; the retention in the young calf of incisor teeth in the upper jaw, etc.--the distribution of animals and plants, and their mutual affinities within the same region,--their general geological succession, and the close relationship of the fossils in closely consecutive formations and within the same country; extinct marsupials having preceded living marsupials in australia, and armadillo-like animals having preceded and generated armadilloes in south america,--and many other phenomena, such as the gradual extinction of old forms and their gradual replacement by new forms better fitted for their new conditions in the struggle for life. when the advocate of heterogeny can thus connect large classes of facts, and not until then, he will have respectful and patient listeners.") (the first and last time i shall take such a step) to say, under the cloak of attacking heterogeny, a word in my own defence. my letter is to appear next week, so the editor says; and i mean to quote lyell's sentence (see the next letter.) in his second edition, on the principle if one puffs oneself, one had better puff handsomely... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, april [ ]. my dear lyell, i was really quite sorry that you had sent me a second copy (the second edition of the 'antiquity of man' was published a few months after the first had appeared.) of your valuable book. but after a few hours my sorrow vanished for this reason: i have written a letter to the "athenaeum", in order, under the cloak of attacking the monstrous article on heterogeny, to say a word for myself in answer to carpenter, and now i have inserted a few sentences in allusion to your analogous objection (lyell objected that the mammalia (e.g. bats and seals) which alone have been able to reach oceanic islands ought to have become modified into various terrestrial forms fitted to fill various places in their new home. my father pointed out in the "athenaeum" that sir charles has in some measure answered his own objection, and went on to quote the "amended sentence" ('antiquity of man,' nd edition page ) as showing how far lyell agreed with the general doctrines of the "origin of species': "yet we ought by no means to undervalue the importance of the step which will have been made, should it hereafter become the generally received opinion of men of science (as i fully expect it will) that the past changes of the organic world have been brought about by the subordinate agency of such causes as variation and natural selection." in the first edition the words (as i fully expect it will," do not occur.) about bats on islands, and then with infinite slyness have quoted your amended sentence, with your parenthesis ("as i fully believe") (my father here quotes lyell incorrectly; see the previous foot-note.); i do not think you can be annoyed at my doing this, and you see, that i am determined as far as i can, that the public shall see how far you go. this is the first time i have ever said a word for myself in any journal, and it shall, i think, be the last. my letter is short, and no great things. i was extremely concerned to see falconer's disrespectful and virulent letter. i like extremely your answer just read; you take a lofty and dignified position, to which you are so well entitled. (in a letter to sir j.d. hooker he wrote: "i much like lyell's letter. but all this squabbling will greatly sink scientific men. i have seen sneers already in the 'times'.") i suspect that if you had inserted a few more superlatives in speaking of the several authors there would have been none of this horrid noise. no one, i am sure, who knows you could doubt about your hearty sympathy with every one who makes any little advance in science. i still well remember my surprise at the manner in which you listened to me in hart street on my return from the "beagle's" voyage. you did me a world of good. it is horridly vexatious that so frank and apparently amiable a man as falconer should have behaved so. (it is to this affair that the extract from a letter to falconer, given in volume i., refers.) well it will all soon be forgotten... [in reply to the above-mentioned letter of my father's to the "athenaeum", an article appeared in that journal (may nd, , page ), accusing my father of claiming for his views the exclusive merit of "connecting by an intelligible thread of reasoning" a number of facts in morphology, etc. the writer remarks that, "the different generalizations cited by mr. darwin as being connected by an intelligible thread of reasoning exclusively through his attempt to explain specific transmutation are in fact related to it in this wise, that they have prepared the minds of naturalists for a better reception of such attempts to explain the way of the origin of species from species." to this my father replied in the "athenaeum" of may th, :] down, may [ ]. i hope that you will grant me space to own that your reviewer is quite correct when he states that any theory of descent will connect, "by an intelligible thread of reasoning," the several generalizations before specified. i ought to have made this admission expressly; with the reservation, however, that, as far as i can judge, no theory so well explains or connects these several generalizations (more especially the formation of domestic races in comparison with natural species, the principles of classification, embryonic resemblance, etc.) as the theory, or hypothesis, or guess, if the reviewer so likes to call it, of natural selection. nor has any other satisfactory explanation been ever offered of the almost perfect adaptation of all organic beings to each other, and to their physical conditions of life. whether the naturalist believes in the views given by lamarck, by geoffrey st. hilaire, by the author of the 'vestiges,' by mr. wallace and myself, or in any other such view, signifies extremely little in comparison with the admission that species have descended from other species, and have not been created immutable; for he who admits this as a great truth has a wide field opened to him for further inquiry. i believe, however, from what i see of the progress of opinion on the continent, and in this country, that the theory of natural selection will ultimately be adopted, with, no doubt, many subordinate modifications and improvements. charles darwin. [in the following, he refers to the above letter to the "athenaeum:] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. leith hill place, saturday [may , ]. my dear hooker, you give good advice about not writing in newspapers; i have been gnashing my teeth at my own folly; and this not caused by --'s sneers, which were so good that i almost enjoyed them. i have written once again to own to a certain extent of truth in what he says, and then if i am ever such a fool again, have no mercy on me. i have read the squib in "public opinion" ("public opinion", april , . a lively account of a police case, in which the quarrels of scientific men are satirised. mr. john bull gives evidence that-- "the whole neighbourhood was unsettled by their disputes; huxley quarrelled with owen, owen with darwin, lyell with owen, falconer and prestwich with lyell, and gray the menagerie man with everybody. he had pleasure, however, in stating that darwin was the quietest of the set. they were always picking bones with each other and fighting over their gains. if either of the gravel sifters or stone breakers found anything, he was obliged to conceal it immediately, or one of the old bone collectors would be sure to appropriate it first and deny the theft afterwards, and the consequent wrangling and disputes were as endless as they were wearisome. "lord mayor.--probably the clergyman of the parish might exert some influence over them? "the gentleman smiled, shook his head, and stated that he regretted to say that no class of men paid so little attention to the opinions of the clergy as that to which these unhappy men belonged."); it is capital; if there is more, and you have a copy, do lend it. it shows well that a scientific man had better be trampled in dirt than squabble. i have been drawing diagrams, dissecting shoots, and muddling my brains to a hopeless degree about the divergence of leaves, and have of course utterly failed. but i can see that the subject is most curious, and indeed astonishing... [the next letter refers to mr. bentham's presidential address to the linnean society (may , ). mr. bentham does not yield to the new theory of evolution, "cannot surrender at discretion as long as many important outworks remain contestable." but he shows that the great body of scientific opinion is flowing in the direction of belief. the mention of pasteur by mr. bentham is in reference to the promulgation "as it were ex cathedra," of a theory of spontaneous generation by the reviewer of dr. carpenter in the "athenaeum" (march , ). mr. bentham points out that in ignoring pasteur's refutation of the supposed facts of spontaneous generation, the writer fails to act with "that impartiality which every reviewer is supposed to possess."] charles darwin to g. bentham. down, may [ ]. my dear bentham, i am much obliged for your kind and interesting letter. i have no fear of anything that a man like you will say annoying me in the very least degree. on the other hand, any approval from one whose judgment and knowledge i have for many years so sincerely respected, will gratify me much. the objection which you well put, of certain forms remaining unaltered through long time and space, is no doubt formidable in appearance, and to a certain extent in reality according to my judgment. but does not the difficulty rest much on our silently assuming that we know more than we do? i have literally found nothing so difficult as to try and always remember our ignorance. i am never weary, when walking in any new adjoining district or country, of reflecting how absolutely ignorant we are why certain old plants are not there present, and other new ones are, and others in different proportions. if we once fully feel this, then in judging the theory of natural selection, which implies that a form will remain unaltered unless some alteration be to its benefit, is it so very wonderful that some forms should change much slower and much less, and some few should have changed not at all under conditions which to us (who really know nothing what are the important conditions) seem very different. certainly a priori we might have anticipated that all the plants anciently introduced into australia would have undergone some modification; but the fact that they have not been modified does not seem to me a difficulty of weight enough to shake a belief grounded on other arguments. i have expressed myself miserably, but i am far from well to-day. i am very glad that you are going to allude to pasteur; i was struck with infinite admiration at his work. with cordial thanks, believe me, dear bentham, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--in fact, the belief in natural selection must at present be grounded entirely on general considerations. ( ) on its being a vera causa, from the struggle for existence; and the certain geological fact that species do somehow change. ( ) from the analogy of change under domestication by man's selection. ( ) and chiefly from this view connecting under an intelligible point of view a host of facts. when we descend to details, we can prove that no one species has changed [i.e. we cannot prove that a single species has changed]; nor can we prove that the supposed changes are beneficial, which is the groundwork of the theory. nor can we explain why some species have changed and others have not. the latter case seems to me hardly more difficult to understand precisely and in detail than the former case of supposed change. bronn may ask in vain, the old creationist school and the new school, why one mouse has longer ears than another mouse, and one plant more pointed leaves than another plant. charles darwin to g. bentham. down, june [ ]. my dear bentham, i have been extremely much pleased and interested by your address, which you kindly sent me. it seems to be excellently done, with as much judicial calmness and impartiality as the lord chancellor could have shown. but whether the "immutable" gentlemen would agree with the impartiality may be doubted, there is too much kindness shown towards me, hooker, and others, they might say. moreover i verily believe that your address, written as it is, will do more to shake the unshaken and bring on those leaning to our side, than anything written directly in favour of transmutation. i can hardly tell why it is, but your address has pleased me as much as lyell's book disappointed me, that is, the part on species, though so cleverly written. i agree with all your remarks on the reviewers. by the way, lecoq (author of 'geographie botanique.' vols. - .) is a believer in the change of species. i, for one, can conscientiously declare that i never feel surprised at any one sticking to the belief of immutability; though i am often not a little surprised at the arguments advanced on this side. i remember too well my endless oscillations of doubt and difficulty. it is to me really laughable when i think of the years which elapsed before i saw what i believe to be the explanation of some parts of the case; i believe it was fifteen years after i began before i saw the meaning and cause of the divergence of the descendants of any one pair. you pay me some most elegant and pleasing compliments. there is much in your address which has pleased me much, especially your remarks on various naturalists. i am so glad that you have alluded so honourably to pasteur. i have just read over this note; it does not express strongly enough the interest which i have felt in reading your address. you have done, i believe, a real good turn to the right side. believe me, dear bentham, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. . [in my father's diary for is the entry, "ill all january, february, march." about the middle of april (seven months after the beginning of the illness in the previous autumn) his health took a turn for the better. as soon as he was able to do any work, he began to write his papers on lythrum, and on climbing plants, so that the work which now concerns us did not begin until september, when he again set to work on 'animals and plants.' a letter to sir j.d. hooker gives some account of the r-commencement of the work: "i have begun looking over my old ms., and it is as fresh as if i had never written it; parts are astonishingly dull, but yet worth printing, i think; and other parts strike me as very good. i am a complete millionaire in odd and curious little facts, and i have been really astounded at my own industry whilst reading my chapters on inheritance and selection. god knows when the book will ever be completed, for i find that i am very weak and on my best days cannot do more than one or one and a half hours' work. it is a good deal harder than writing about my dear climbing plants." in this year he received the greatest honour which a scientific man can receive in this country--the copley medal of the royal society. it is presented at the anniversary meeting on st. andrew's day (november ), the medalist being usually present to receive it, but this the state of my father's health prevented. he wrote to mr. fox on this subject:-- "i was glad to see your hand-writing. the copley, being open to all sciences and all the world, is reckoned a great honour; but excepting from several kind letters, such things make little difference to me. it shows, however, that natural selection is making some progress in this country, and that pleases me. the subject, however, is safe in foreign lands." to sir j.d. hooker, also, he wrote:-- "how kind you have been about this medal; indeed, i am blessed with many good friends, and i have received four or five notes which have warmed my heart. i often wonder that so old a worn-out dog as i am is not quite forgotten. talking of medals, has falconer had the royal? he surely ought to have it, as ought john lubbock. by the way, the latter tells me that some old members of the royal are quite shocked at my having the copley. do you know who?" he wrote to mr. huxley:-- "i must and will answer you, for it is a real pleasure for me to thank you cordially for your note. such notes as this of yours, and a few others, are the real medal to me, and not the round bit of gold. these have given me a pleasure which will long endure; so believe in my cordial thanks for your note." sir charles lyell, writing to my father in november ('life,' vol. ii. page ), speaks of the supposed malcontents as being afraid to crown anything so unorthodox as the 'origin.' but he adds that if such were their feelings "they had the good sense to draw in their horns." it appears, however, from the same letter, that the proposal to give the copley medal to my father in the previous year failed owing to a similar want of courage--to lyell's great indignation. in the "reader", december , , general sabine's presidential address at the anniversary meeting is reported at some length. special weight was laid on my father's work in geology, zoology, and botany, but the 'origin of species' is praised chiefly as containing "a mass of observations," etc. it is curious that as in the case of his election to the french institution, so in this case, he was honoured not for the great work of his life, but for his less important work in special lines. the paragraph in general sabine's address which refers to the 'origin of species,' is as follows:-- "in his most recent work 'on the origin of species,' although opinions may be divided or undecided with respect to its merits in some respects, all will allow that it contains a mass of observations bearing upon the habits, structure, affinities, and distribution of animals, perhaps unrivalled for interest, minuteness, and patience of observation. some amongst us may perhaps incline to accept the theory indicated by the title of this work, while others may perhaps incline to refuse, or at least to remit it to a future time, when increased knowledge shall afford stronger grounds for its ultimate acceptance or rejection. speaking generally and collectively, we have expressly omitted it from the grounds of our award." i believe i am right in saying that no little dissatisfaction at the president's manner of allusion to the 'origin' was felt by some fellows of the society. the presentation of the copley medal is of interest in another way, inasmuch as it led to sir c. lyell making, in his after-dinner speech, a "confession of faith as to the 'origin.'" he wrote to my father ('life,' vol. ii. page ), "i said i had been forced to give up my old faith without thoroughly seeing my way to a new one. but i think you would have been satisfied with the length i went."] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, october [ ]. my dear huxley, if i do not pour out my admiration of your article ("criticisms on the origin of species," 'nat. hist. review,' . republished in 'lay sermons,' , page . the work of professor kolliker referred to is 'ueber die darwin'sche schopfungstheorie' (leipzig, ). toward professor kolliker my father felt not only the respect due to so distinguished a naturalist (a sentiment well expressed in professor huxley's review), but he had also a personal regard for him, and often alluded with satisfaction to the visit which professor kolliker paid at down.) on kolliker, i shall explode. i never read anything better done. i had much wished his article answered, and indeed thought of doing so myself, so that i considered several points. you have hit on all, and on some in addition, and oh! by jove, how well you have done it. as i read on and came to point after point on which i had thought, i could not help jeering and scoffing at myself, to see how infinitely better you had done it than i could have done. well, if any one, who does not understand natural selection, will read this, he will be a blockhead if it is not as clear as daylight. old flourens ('examen du livre de m. darwin sur l'origine des especes.' par p. flourens. vo. paris, .) was hardly worth the powder and shot; but how capitally you bring in about the academician, and your metaphor of the sea-sand is inimitable. it is a marvel to me how you can resist becoming a regular reviewer. well, i have exploded now, and it has done me a deal of good... [in the same article in the 'natural history review,' mr. huxley speaks of the book above alluded to by flourens, the secretaire perpetuel of the academie des sciences, as one of the two "most elaborate criticisms" of the 'origin of species' of the year. he quotes the following passage:-- "m. darwin continue: 'aucune distinction absolue n'a ete et ne peut etre entre les especes et les varietes!' je vous ai deja dit que vous vous trompiez; une distinction absolue separe les varietes d'avec les especes." mr. huxley remarks on this, "being devoid of the blessings of an academy in england, we are unaccustomed to see our ablest men treated in this way even by a perpetual secretary." after demonstrating m. flourens' misapprehension of natural selection, mr. huxley says, "how one knows it all by heart, and with what relief one reads at page 'je laisse m. darwin.'" on the same subject my father wrote to mr. wallace:-- "a great gun, flourens, has written a little dull book against me which pleases me much, for it is plain that our good work is spreading in france. he speaks of the "engouement" about this book [the 'origin'] "so full of empty and presumptuous thoughts." the passage here alluded to is as follows:-- "enfin l'ouvrage de m. darwin a paru. on ne peut qu'etre frappe du talent de l'auteur. mais que d'idees obscures, que d'idees fausses! quel jargon metaphysique jete mal a propos dans l'histoire naturelle, qui tombe dans le galimatias des qu'elle sort des idees claires, des idees justes. quel langage pretentieux et vide! quelles personifications pueriles et surannees! o lucidite! o solidite de l'esprit francais, que devene-vous?"] . [this was again a time of much ill-health, but towards the close of the year he began to recover under the care of the late dr. bence-jones, who dieted him severely, and as he expressed it, "half-starved him to death." he was able to work at 'animals and plants' until nearly the end of april, and from that time until december he did practically no work, with the exception of looking over the 'origin of species' for a second french edition. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:--"i am, as it were, reading the 'origin' for the first time, for i am correcting for a second french edition: and upon my life, my dear fellow, it is a very good book, but oh! my gracious, it is tough reading, and i wish it were done." (towards the end of the year my father received the news of a new convert to his views, in the person of the distinguished american naturalist lesquereux. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker: "i have had an enormous letter from leo lesquereux (after doubts, i did not think it worth sending you) on coal flora. he wrote some excellent articles in 'silliman' against 'origin' views; but he says now, after repeated reading of the book, he is a convert!") the following letter refers to the duke of argyll's address to the royal society of edinburgh, december th, , in which he criticises the 'origin of species.' my father seems to have read the duke's address as reported in the "scotsman" of december th, . in a letter to my father (january , , 'life,' vol. ii. page ), lyell wrote, "the address is a great step towards your views--far greater, i believe, than it seems when read merely with reference to criticisms and objections."] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, january , [ ]. my dear lyell, i thank you for your very interesting letter. i have the true english instinctive reverence for rank, and therefore liked to hear about the princess royal. ("i had... an animated conversation on darwinism with the princess royal, who is a worthy daughter of her father, in the reading of good books, and thinking of what she reads. she was very much au fait at the 'origin,' and huxley's book, the 'antiquity,' etc."--(lyell's 'life,' vol. ii. page .) you ask what i think of the duke's address, and i shall be glad to tell you. it seems to me extremely clever, like everything i have read of his; but i am not shaken--perhaps you will say that neither gods nor men could shake me. i demur to the duke reiterating his objection that the brilliant plumage of the male humming-bird could not have been acquired through selection, at the same time entirely ignoring my discussion (page , rd edition) on beautiful plumage being acquired through sexual selection. the duke may think this insufficient, but that is another question. all analogy makes me quite disagree with the duke that the difference in the beak, wing and tail, are not of importance to the several species. in the only two species which i have watched, the difference in flight and in the use of the tail was conspicuously great. the duke, who knows my orchid book so well, might have learnt a lesson of caution from it, with respect to his doctrine of differences for mere variety or beauty. it may be confidently said that no tribe of plants presents such grotesque and beautiful differences, which no one until lately, conjectured were of any use; but now in almost every case i have been able to show their important service. it should be remembered that with humming birds or orchids, a modification in one part will cause correlated changes in other parts. i agree with what you say about beauty. i formerly thought a good deal on the subject, and was led quite to repudiate the doctrine of beauty being created for beauty's sake. i demur also to the duke's expression of "new births." that may be a very good theory, but it is not mine, unless indeed he calls a bird born with a beak / th of an inch longer than usual "a new birth;" but this is not the sense in which the term would usually be understood. the more i work the more i feel convinced that it is by the accumulation of such extremely slight variations that new species arise. i do not plead guilty to the duke's charge that i forget that natural selection means only the preservation of variations which independently arise. ("strictly speaking, therefore, mr. darwin's theory is not a theory on the origin of species at all, but only a theory on the causes which lead to the relative success and failure of such new forms as may be born into the world."--"scotsman", december , .) i have expressed this in as strong language as i could use, but it would have been infinitely tedious had i on every occasion thus guarded myself. i will cry "peccavi" when i hear of the duke or you attacking breeders for saying that man has made his improved shorthorns, or pouter pigeons, or bantams. and i could quote still stronger expressions used by agriculturists. man does make his artificial breeds, for his selective power is of such importance relatively to that of the slight spontaneous variations. but no one will attack breeders for using such expressions, and the rising generation will not blame me. many thanks for your offer of sending me the 'elements.' (sixth edition in one volume.) i hope to read it all, but unfortunately reading makes my head whiz more than anything else. i am able most days to work for two or three hours, and this makes all the difference in my happiness. i have resolved not to be tempted astray, and to publish nothing till my volume on variation is completed. you gave me excellent advice about the footnotes in my dog chapter, but their alteration gave me infinite trouble, and i often wished all the dogs, and i fear sometimes you yourself, in the nether regions. we (dictator and writer) send our best love to lady lyell. yours affectionately, charles darwin. p.s.--if ever you should speak with the duke on the subject, please say how much interested i was with his address. [in his autobiographical sketch my father has remarked that owing to certain early memories he felt the honour of being elected to the royal and royal medical societies of edinburgh "more than any similar honour." the following extract from a letter to sir joseph hooker refers to his election to the former of these societies. the latter part of the extract refers to the berlin academy, to which he was elected in :-- "here is a really curious thing, considering that brewster is president and balfour secretary. i have been elected honorary member of the royal society of edinburgh. and this leads me to a third question. does the berlin academy of sciences send their proceedings to honorary members? i want to know, to ascertain whether i am a member; i suppose not, for i think it would have made some impression on me; yet i distinctly remember receiving some diploma signed by ehrenberg. i have been so careless; i have lost several diplomas, and now i want to know what societies i belong to, as i observe every [one] tacks their titles to their names in the catalogue of the royal soc."] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, february [ ]. my dear lyell, i have taken a long time to thank you very much for your present of the 'elements.' i am going through it all, reading what is new, and what i have forgotten, and this is a good deal. i am simply astonished at the amount of labour, knowledge, and clear thought condensed in this work. the whole strikes me as something quite grand. i have been particularly interested by your account of heer's work and your discussion on the atlantic continent. i am particularly delighted at the view which you take on this subject; for i have long thought forbes did an ill service in so freely making continents. i have also been very glad to read your argument on the denudation of the weald, and your excellent resume on the purbeck beds; and this is the point at which i have at present arrived in your book. i cannot say that i am quite convinced that there is no connection beyond that pointed out by you, between glacial action and the formation of lake basins; but you will not much value my opinion on this head, as i have already changed my mind some half-dozen times. i want to make a suggestion to you. i found the weight of your volume intolerable, especially when lying down, so with great boldness cut it into two pieces, and took it out of its cover; now could not murray without any other change add to his advertisement a line saying, "if bound in two volumes, one shilling or one shilling and sixpence extra." you thus might originate a change which would be a blessing to all weak-handed readers. believe me, my dear lyell, yours most sincerely, charles darwin. originate a second real blessing and have the edges of the sheets cut like a bound book. (this was a favourite reform of my father's. he wrote to the "athenaeum" on the subject, february , , pointing out how that a book cut, even carefully, with a paper knife collects dust on its edges far more than a machine-cut book. he goes on to quote the case of a lady of his acquaintance who was in the habit of cutting books with her thumb, and finally appeals to the "athenaeum" to earn the gratitude of children "who have to cut through dry and pictureless books for the benefit of their elders." he tried to introduce the reform in the case of his own books, but found the conservatism of booksellers too strong for him. the presentation copies, however, of all his later books were sent out with the edges cut.) charles darwin to john lubbock. down, june [ ]. my dear lubbock, the latter half of your book ('prehistoric times,' .) has been read aloud to me, and the style is so clear and easy (we both think it perfection) that i am now beginning at the beginning. i cannot resist telling you how excellently well, in my opinion, you have done the very interesting chapter on savage life. though you have necessarily only compiled the materials the general result is most original. but i ought to keep the term original for your last chapter, which has struck me as an admirable and profound discussion. it has quite delighted me, for now the public will see what kind of man you are, which i am proud to think i discovered a dozen years ago. i do sincerely wish you all success in your election and in politics; but after reading this last chapter, you must let me say: oh, dear! oh, dear! oh dear! yours affectionately, ch. darwin. p.s.--you pay me a superb compliment ('prehistoric times,' page , where the words, "the discoveries of a newton or a darwin," occur.), but i fear you will be quizzed for it by some of your friends as too exaggerated. [the following letter refers to fritz muller's book, 'fur darwin,' which was afterwards translated, at my father's suggestion, by mr. dallas. it is of interest as being the first of the long series of letters which my father wrote to this distinguished naturalist. they never met, but the correspondence with muller, which continued to the close of my father's life, was a source of very great pleasure to him. my impression is that of all his unseen friends fritz muller was the one for whom he had the strongest regard. fritz muller is the brother of another distinguished man, the late hermann muller, the author of 'die befruchtung der blumen,' and of much other valuable work:] charles darwin to f. muller. down, august [ ]. my dear sir, i have been for a long time so ill that i have only just finished hearing read aloud your work on species. and now you must permit me to thank you cordially for the great interest with which i have read it. you have done admirable service in the cause in which we both believe. many of your arguments seem to me excellent, and many of your facts wonderful. of the latter, nothing has surprised me so much as the two forms of males. i have lately investigated the cases of dimorphic plants, and i should much like to send you one or two of my papers if i knew how. i did send lately by post a paper on climbing plants, as an experiment to see whether it would reach you. one of the points which has struck me most in your paper is that on the differences in the air-breathing apparatus of the several forms. this subject appeared to me very important when i formerly considered the electric apparatus of fishes. your observations on classification and embryology seem to me very good and original. they show what a wonderful field there is for enquiry on the development of crustacea, and nothing has convinced me so plainly what admirable results we shall arrive at in natural history in the course of a few years. what a marvellous range of structure the crustacea present, and how well adapted they are for your enquiry! until reading your book i knew nothing of the rhizocephala; pray look at my account and figures of anelasma, for it seems to me that this latter cirripede is a beautiful connecting link with the rhizocephala. if ever you have any opportunity, as you are so skilful a dissector, i much wish that you would look to the orifice at the base of the first pair of cirrhi in cirripedes, and at the curious organ in it, and discover what its nature is; i suppose i was quite in error, yet i cannot feel fully satisfied at krohn's (see vol. ii., pages , .) observations. also if you ever find any species of scalpellum, pray look for complemental males; a german author has recently doubted my observations for no reason except that the facts appeared to him so strange. permit me again to thank you cordially for the pleasure which i have derived from your work and to express my sincere admiration for your valuable researches. believe me, dear sir, with sincere respect, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. p.s.--i do not know whether you care at all about plants, but if so, i should much like to send you my little work on the 'fertilization of orchids,' and i think i have a german copy. could you spare me a photograph of yourself? i should much like to possess one. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, thursday, th [september, ]. my dear hooker, i had intended writing this morning to thank mrs. hooker most sincerely for her last and several notes about you, and now your own note in your hand has rejoiced me. to walk between five and six miles is splendid, with a little patience you must soon be well. i knew you had been very ill, but i hardly knew how ill, until yesterday, when bentham (from the cranworths (robert rolfe, lord cranworth, and lord chancellor of england, lived at holwood, near down.)) called here, and i was able to see him for ten minutes. he told me also a little about the last days of your father (sir william hooker; - . he took charge of the royal gardens at kew, in , when they ceased to be the private gardens of the royal family. in doing so, he gave up his professorship at glasgow--and with it half of his income. he founded the herbarium and library, and within ten years he succeeded in making the gardens the first in the world. it is, thus, not too much to say that the creation of the establishment at kew is due to the abilities and self-devotion of sir william hooker. while, for the subsequent development of the gardens up to their present magnificent condition, the nation must thank sir joseph hooker, in whom the same qualities are so conspicuous.); i wish i had known your father better, my impression is confined to his remarkably cordial, courteous, and frank bearing. i fully concur and understand what you say about the difference of feeling in the loss of a father and child. i do not think any one could love a father much more than i did mine, and i do not believe three or four days ever pass without my still thinking of him, but his death at eight-four caused me nothing of that insufferable grief (i may quote here a passage from a letter of november, . it was written to a friend who had lost his child: "how well i remember your feeling, when we lost annie. it was my greatest comfort that i had never spoken a harsh word to her. your grief has made me shed a few tears over our poor darling; but believe me that these tears have lost that unutterable bitterness of former days.") which the loss of our poor dear annie caused. and this seems to me perfectly natural, for one knows for years previously that one's father's death is drawing slowly nearer and nearer, while the death of one's child is a sudden and dreadful wrench. what a wonderful deal you read; it is a horrid evil for me that i can read hardly anything, for it makes my head almost immediately begin to sing violently. my good womenkind read to me a great deal, but i dare not ask for much science, and am not sure that i could stand it. i enjoyed tylor ('researches into the early history of mankind,' by e.b. tylor. .) extremely, and the first part of lecky 'the rise of rationalism in europe,' by w.e.h. lecky. .); but i think the latter is often vague, and gives a false appearance of throwing light on his subject by such phrases as "spirit of the age," "spread of civilization," etc. i confine my reading to a quarter or half hour per day in skimming through the back volumes of the annals and magazine of natural history, and find much that interests me. i miss my climbing plants very much, as i could observe them when very poorly. i did not enjoy the 'mill on the floss' so much as you, but from what you say we will read it again. do you know 'silas marner'? it is a charming little story; if you run short, and like to have it, we could send it by post... we have almost finished the first volume of palgrave (william gifford palgrave's 'travels in arabia,' published in .), and i like it much; but did you ever see a book so badly arranged? the frequency of the allusions to what will be told in the future are quite laughable... by the way, i was very much pleased with the foot-note (the passage which seems to be referred to occurs in the text (page ) of 'prehistoric times.' it expresses admiration of mr. wallace's paper in the 'anthropological review' (may, ), and speaks of the author's "characteristic unselfishness" in ascribing the theory of natural selection "unreservedly to mr. darwin." about wallace in lubbock's last chapter. i had not heard that huxley had backed up lubbock about parliament... did you see a sneer some time ago in the "times" about how incomparably more interesting politics were compared with science even to scientific men? remember what trollope says, in 'can you forgive her,' about getting into parliament, as the highest earthly ambition. jeffrey, in one of his letters, i remember, says that making an effective speech in parliament is a far grander thing than writing the grandest history. all this seems to me a poor short-sighted view. i cannot tell you how it has rejoiced me once again seeing your handwriting-- my best of old friends. yours affectionately, ch. darwin. [in october he wrote sir j.d. hooker:-- "talking of the 'origin,' a yankee has called my attention to a paper attached to dr. wells's famous 'essay on dew,' which was read in to the royal society, but not [then] printed, in which he applies most distinctly the principle of natural selection to the races of man. so poor old patrick matthew is not the first, and he cannot, or ought not, any longer to put on his title-pages, 'discoverer of the principle of natural selection'!"] charles darwin to f.w. farrar. (canon of westminster.) down, november [ ?]. dear sir, as i have never studied the science of language, it may perhaps seem presumptuous, but i cannot resist the pleasure of telling you what interest and pleasure i have derived from hearing read aloud your volume ('chapters on language,' .) i formerly read max muller, and thought his theory (if it deserves to be called so) both obscure and weak; and now, after hearing what you say, i feel sure that this is the case, and that your cause will ultimately triumph. my indirect interest in your book has been increased from mr. hensleigh wedgwood, whom you often quote, being my brother-in-law. no one could dissent from my views on the modification of species with more courtesy than you do. but from the tenor of your mind i feel an entire and comfortable conviction (and which cannot possibly be disturbed) that if your studies led you to attend much to general questions in natural history you would come to the same conclusion that i have done. have you ever read huxley's little book of lectures? i would gladly send a copy if you think you would read it. considering what geology teaches us, the argument from the supposed immutability of specific types seems to me much the same as if, in a nation which had no old writings, some wise old savage was to say that his language had never changed; but my metaphor is too long to fill up. pray believe me, dear sir, yours very sincerely obliged, c. darwin. . [the year is given in my father's diary in the following words:-- "continued correcting chapters of 'domestic animals.' march st.--began on th edition of 'origin' of copies (received for it pounds), making copies altogether. may th.--finished 'origin,' except revises, and began going over chapter xiii. of 'domestic animals.' november st.--finished 'pangenesis.' december st.--finished re-going over all chapters, and sent them to printers. december nd.--began concluding chapter of book." he was in london on two occasions for a week at a time, staying with his brother, and for a few days (may th-june nd) in surrey; for the rest of the year he was at down. there seems to have been a gradual mending in his health; thus he wrote to mr. wallace (january ):--"my health is so far improved that i am able to work one or two hours a day." with respect to the th edition he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "the new edition of the 'origin' has caused me two great vexations. i forgot bates's paper on variation (this appears to refer to "notes on south american butterflies," trans. entomolog. soc., vol. v. (n.s.).), but i remembered in time his mimetic work, and now, strange to say, i find i have forgotten your arctic paper! i know how it arose; i indexed for my bigger work, and never expected that a new edition of the 'origin' would be wanted. "i cannot say how all this has vexed me. everything which i have read during the last four years i find is quite washy in my mind." as far as i know, mr. bates's paper was not mentioned in the later editions of the 'origin,' for what reason i cannot say. in connection with his work on 'the variation of animals and plants,' i give here extracts from three letters addressed to mr. huxley, which are of interest as giving some idea of the development of the theory of 'pangenesis,' ultimately published in in the book in question:] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, may , [ ?]. ... i write now to ask a favour of you, a very great favour from one so hard worked as you are. it is to read thirty pages of ms., excellently copied out and give me, not lengthened criticism, but your opinion whether i may venture to publish it. you may keep the ms. for a month or two. i would not ask this favour, but i really know no one else whose judgment on the subject would be final with me. the case stands thus: in my next book i shall publish long chapters on bud- and seminal-variation, on inheritance, reversion, effects of use and disuse, etc. i have also for many years speculated on the different forms of reproduction. hence it has come to be a passion with me to try to connect all such facts by some sort of hypothesis. the ms. which i wish to send you gives such a hypothesis; it is a very rash and crude hypothesis, yet it has been a considerable relief to my mind, and i can hang on it a good many groups of facts. i well know that a mere hypothesis, and this is nothing more, is of little value; but it is very useful to me as serving as a kind of summary for certain chapters. now i earnestly wish for your verdict given briefly as, "burn it"--or, which is the most favourable verdict i can hope for, "it does rudely connect together certain facts, and i do not think it will immediately pass out of my mind." if you can say this much, and you do not think it absolutely ridiculous, i shall publish it in my concluding chapter. now will you grant me this favour? you must refuse if you are too much overworked. i must say for myself that i am a hero to expose my hypothesis to the fiery ordeal of your criticism. july , [ ?]. my dear huxley, i thank you most sincerely for having so carefully considered my ms. it has been a real act of kindness. it would have annoyed me extremely to have re-published buffon's views, which i did not know of, but i will get the book; and if i have strength i will also read bonnet. i do not doubt your judgment is perfectly just, and i will try to persuade myself not to publish. the whole affair is much too speculative; yet i think some such view will have to be adopted, when i call to mind such facts as the inherited effects of use and disuse, etc. but i will try to be cautious... [ ?]. my dear huxley, forgive my writing in pencil, as i can do so lying down. i have read buffon: whole pages are laughably like mine. it is surprising how candid it makes one to see one's views in another man's words. i am rather ashamed of the whole affair, but not converted to a no-belief. what a kindness you have done me with your "vulpine sharpness." nevertheless, there is a fundamental distinction between buffon's views and mine. he does not suppose that each cell or atom of tissue throws off a little bud; but he supposes that the sap or blood includes his "organic molecules," which are ready formed, fit to nourish each organ, and when this is fully formed, they collect to form buds and the sexual elements. it is all rubbish to speculate as i have done; yet, if i ever have strength to publish my next book, i fear i shall not resist "pangenesis," but i assure you i will put it humbly enough. the ordinary course of development of beings, such as the echinodermata, in which new organs are formed at quite remote spots from the analogous previous parts, seem to me extremely difficult to reconcile on any view except the free diffusion in the parent of the germs or gemmules of each separate new organ; and so in cases of alternate generation. but i will not scribble any more. hearty thanks to you, you best of critics and most learned man... [the letters now take up the history of the year .] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, july [ ]. my dear wallace, i have been much interested by your letter, which is as clear as daylight. i fully agree with all that you say on the advantages of h. spencer's excellent expression of "the survival of the fittest." (extract from a letter of mr. wallace's, july , : "the term 'survival of the fittest' is the plain expression of the fact; 'natural selection' is a metaphorical expression of it, and to a certain degree indirect and incorrect, since... nature... does not so much select special varieties as exterminate the most unfavourable ones.") this, however, had not occurred to me till reading your letter. it is, however, a great objection to this term that it cannot be used as a substantive governing a verb; and that this is a real objection i infer from h. spencer continually using the words, natural selection. i formerly thought, probably in an exaggerated degree, that it was a great advantage to bring into connection natural and artificial selection; this indeed led me to use a term in common, and i still think it some advantage. i wish i had received your letter two months ago, for i would have worked in "the survival, etc.," often in the new edition of the 'origin,' which is now almost printed off, and of which i will of course send you a copy. i will use the term in my next book on domestic animals, etc., from which, by the way, i plainly see that you expect much, too much. the term natural selection has now been so largely used abroad and at home, that i doubt whether it could be given up, and with all its faults i should be sorry to see the attempt made. whether it will be rejected must now depend "on the survival of the fittest." as in time the term must grow intelligible the objections to its use will grow weaker and weaker. i doubt whether the use of any term would have made the subject intelligible to some minds, clear as it is to others; for do we not see even to the present day malthus on population absurdly misunderstood? this reflection about malthus has often comforted me when i have been vexed at the misstatement of my views. as for m. janet (this no doubt refers to janet's 'materialisme contemporain.'), he is a metaphysician, and such gentlemen are so acute that i think they often misunderstand common folk. your criticism on the double sense ("i find you use 'natural selection' in two senses. st, for the simple preservation of favourable and rejection of unfavourable variations, in which case it is equivalent to the 'survival of the fittest,'--and ndly, for the effect or change produced by this preservation." extract from mr. wallace's letter above quoted.) in which i have used natural selection is new to me and unanswerable; but my blunder has done no harm, for i do not believe that any one, excepting you, has ever observed it. again, i agree that i have said too much about "favourable variations;" but i am inclined to think that you put the opposite side too strongly; if every part of every being varied, i do not think we should see the same end, or object, gained by such wonderfully diversified means. i hope you are enjoying the country, and are in good health, and are working hard at your malay archipelago book, for i will always put this wish in every note i write to you, like some good people always put in a text. my health keeps much the same, or rather improves, and i am able to work some hours daily. with many thanks for your interesting letter. believe me, my dear wallace, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, august [ ]. my dear hooker, i was very glad to get your note and the notts. newspaper. i have seldom been more pleased in my life than at hearing how successfully your lecture (at the nottingham meeting of the british association, august , . the subject of the lecture was 'insular floras.' see "gardeners' chronicle", .) went off. mrs. h. wedgwood sent us an account, saying that you read capitally, and were listened to with profound attention and great applause. she says, when your final allegory (sir joseph hooker allegorized the oxford meeting of the british association as the gathering of a tribe of savages who believed that the new moon was created afresh each month. the anger of the priests and medicine man at a certain heresy, according to which the new moon is but the offspring of the old one, is excellently given.) began, "for a minute or two we were all mystified, and then came such bursts of applause from the audience. it was thoroughly enjoyed amid roars of laughter and noise, making a most brilliant conclusion." i am rejoiced that you will publish your lecture, and felt sure that sooner or later it would come to this, indeed it would have been a sin if you had not done so. i am especially rejoiced as you give the arguments for occasional transport, with such perfect fairness; these will now receive a fair share of attention, as coming from you a professed botanist. thanks also for grove's address; as a whole it strikes me as very good and original, but i was disappointed in the part about species; it dealt in such generalities that it would apply to any view or no view in particular... and now farewell. i do most heartily rejoice at your success, and for grove's sake at the brilliant success of the whole meeting. yours affectionately, charles darwin. [the next letter is of interest, as giving the beginning of the connection which arose between my father and professor victor carus. the translation referred to is the third german edition made from the fourth english one. from this time forward professor carus continued to translate my father's books into german. the conscientious care with which this work was done was of material service, and i well remember the admiration (mingled with a tinge of vexation at his own short-comings) with which my father used to receive the lists of oversights, etc., which professor carus discovered in the course of translation. the connection was not a mere business one, but was cemented by warm feelings of regard on both sides.] charles darwin to victor carus. down, november , . my dear sir, i thank you for your extremely kind letter. i cannot express too strongly my satisfaction that you have undertaken the revision of the new edition, and i feel the honour which you have conferred on me. i fear that you will find the labour considerable, not only on account of the additions, but i suspect that bronn's translation is very defective, at least i have heard complaints on this head from quite a large number of persons. it would be a great gratification to me to know that the translation was a really good one, such as i have no doubt you will produce. according to our english practice, you will be fully justified in entirely omitting bronn's appendix, and i shall be very glad of its omission. a new edition may be looked at as a new work... you could add anything of your own that you liked, and i should be much pleased. should you make any additions or append notes, it appears to me that nageli "entstehung und begriff," etc. ('entstehung und begriff der naturhistorischen art.' an address given at a public meeting of the 'r. academy of sciences' at munich, march , .), would be worth noticing, as one of the most able pamphlets on the subject. i am, however, far from agreeing with him that the acquisition of certain characters which appear to be of no service to plants, offers any great difficulty, or affords a proof of some innate tendency in plants towards perfection. if you intend to notice this pamphlet, i should like to write hereafter a little more in detail on the subject. ... i wish i had known when writing my historical sketch that you had in published your views on the genealogical connection of past and present forms. i suppose you have the sheets of the last english edition on which i marked with pencil all the chief additions, but many little corrections of style were not marked. pray believe that i feel sincerely grateful for the great service and honour which you do me by the present translation. i remain, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--i should be very much pleased to possess your photograph, and i send mine in case you should like to have a copy. charles darwin to c. nageli. (professor of botany at munich.) down, june [ ]. dear sir, i hope you will excuse the liberty which i take in writing to you. i have just read, though imperfectly, your 'entstehung und begriff,' and have been so greatly interested by it, that i have sent it to be translated, as i am a poor german scholar. i have just finished a new [ th] edition of my 'origin,' which will be translated into german, and my object in writing to you is to say that if you should see this edition you would think that i had borrowed from you, without acknowledgment, two discussions on the beauty of flowers and fruit; but i assure you every word was printed off before i had opened your pamphlet. should you like to possess a copy of either the german or english new edition, i should be proud to send one. i may add, with respect to the beauty of flowers, that i have already hinted the same views as you hold in my paper on lythrum. many of your criticisms on my views are the best which i have met with, but i could answer some, at least to my own satisfaction; and i regret extremely that i had not read your pamphlet before printing my new edition. on one or two points, i think, you have a little misunderstood me, though i dare say i have not been cautious in expressing myself. the remark which has struck me most, is that on the position of the leaves not having been acquired through natural selection, from not being of any special importance to the plant. i well remember being formerly troubled by an analogous difficulty, namely, the position of the ovules, their anatropous condition, etc. it was owing to forgetfulness that i did not notice this difficulty in the 'origin.' (nageli's essay is noticed in the th edition.) although i can offer no explanation of such facts, and only hope to see that they may be explained, yet i hardly see how they support the doctrine of some law of necessary development, for it is not clear to me that a plant, with its leaves placed at some particular angle, or with its ovules in some particular position, thus stands higher than another plant. but i must apologise for troubling you with these remarks. as i much wish to possess your photograph, i take the liberty of enclosing my own, and with sincere respect i remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, ch. darwin. [i give a few extracts from letters of various dates showing my father's interest, alluded to in the last letter, in the problem of the arrangement of the leaves on the stems of plants. it may be added that professor schwendener of berlin has successfully attacked the question in his 'mechanische theorie der blattstellungen,' . to dr. falconer. august [ ]. "do you remember telling me that i ought to study phyllotaxy? well i have often wished you at the bottom of the sea; for i could not resist, and i muddled my brains with diagrams, etc., and specimens, and made out, as might have been expected, nothing. those angles are a most wonderful problem and i wish i could see some one give a rational explanation of them." to dr. asa gray. may [ ]. "if you wish to save me from a miserable death, do tell me why the angles / , / , / , / , etc, series occur, and no other angles. it is enough to drive the quietest man mad. did you and some mathematician (probably my father was thinking of chauncey wright's work on phyllotaxy, in gould's 'astronomical journal,' no. , , and in the 'mathematical monthly,' . these papers are mentioned in the "letters of chauncey wright.' mr. wright corresponded with my father on the subject.) publish some paper on the subject? hooker says you did; where is it? to dr. asa gray. [may , ?]. "i have been looking at nageli's work on this subject, and am astonished to see that the angle is not always the same in young shoots when the lea-buds are first distinguishable, as in full-grown branches. this shows, i think, that there must be some potent cause for those angles which do occur: i dare say there is some explanation as simple as that for the angles of the bees-cells." my father also corresponded with dr. hubert airy and was interested in his views on the subject, published in the royal soc. proceedings, , page . we now return to the year . in november, when the prosecution of governor eyre was dividing england into two bitterly opposed parties, he wrote to sir j. hooker:-- "you will shriek at me when you hear that i have just subscribed to the jamaica committee." (he subscribed pounds.) on this subject i quote from a letter of my brother's:-- "with respect to governor eyre's conduct in jamaica, he felt strongly that j.s. mill was right in prosecuting him. i remember one evening, at my uncle's, we were talking on the subject, and as i happened to think it was too strong a measure to prosecute governor eyre for murder, i made some foolish remark about the prosecutors spending the surplus of the fund in a dinner. my father turned on me almost with fury, and told me, if those were my feelings, i had better go back to southampton; the inhabitants having given a dinner to governor eyre on his landing, but with which i had had nothing to do." the end of the incident, as told by my brother, is so characteristic of my father that i cannot resist giving it, though it has no bearing on the point at issue. "next morning at o'clock, or so, he came into my bedroom and sat on my bed, and said that he had not been able to sleep from the thought that he had been so angry with me, and after a few more kind words he left me." the same restless desire to correct a disagreeable or incorrect impression is well illustrated in an extract which i quote from some notes by rev. j. brodie innes:-- "allied to the extreme carefulness of observation was his most remarkable truthfulness in all matters. on one occasion, when a parish meeting had been held on some disputed point of no great importance, i was surprised by a visit from mr. darwin at night. he came to say that, thinking over the debate, though what he had said was quite accurate, he thought i might have drawn an erroneous conclusion, and he would not sleep till he had explained it. i believe that if on any day some certain fact had come to his knowledge which contradicted his most cherished theories, he would have placed the fact on record for publication before he slept." this tallies with my father's habits, as described by himself. when a difficulty or an objection occurred to him, he thought it of paramount importance to make a note of it instantly because he found hostile facts to be especially evanescent. the same point is illustrated by the following incident, for which i am indebted to mr. romanes:-- "i have always remembered the following little incident as a good example of mr. darwin's extreme solicitude on the score of accuracy. one evening at down there was a general conversation upon the difficulty of explaining the evolution of some of the distinctively human emotions, especially those appertaining to the recognition of beauty in natural scenery. i suggested a view of my own upon the subject, which, depending upon the principle of association, required the supposition that a long line of ancestors should have inhabited regions, the scenery of which is now regarded as beautiful. just as i was about to observe that the chief difficulty attaching to my hypothesis arose from feelings of the sublime (seeing that these are associated with awe, and might therefore be expected not to be agreeable), mr. darwin anticipated the remark, by asking how the hypothesis was to meet the case of these feelings. in the conversation which followed, he said the occasion in his own life, when he was most affected by the emotions of the sublime was when he stood upon one of the summits of the cordillera, and surveyed the magnificent prospect all around. it seemed, as he quaintly observed, as if his nerves had become fiddle strings, and had all taken to rapidly vibrating. this remark was only made incidentally, and the conversation passed into some other branch. about an hour afterwards mr. darwin retired to rest, while i sat up in the smoking-room with one of his sons. we continued smoking and talking for several hours, when at about one o'clock in the morning the door gently opened and mr. darwin appeared, in his slippers and dressing-gown. as nearly as i can remember, the following are the words he used:-- "'since i went to bed i have been thinking over our conversation in the drawing-room, and it has just occurred to me that i was wrong in telling you i felt most of the sublime when on the top of the cordillera; i am quite sure that i felt it even more when in the forests of brazil. i thought it best to come and tell you this at once in case i should be putting you wrong. i am sure now that i felt most sublime in the forests.' "this was all he had come to say, and it was evident that he had come to do so, because he thought that the fact of his feeling 'most sublime in forests' was more in accordance with the hypothesis which we had been discussing, than the fact which he had previously stated. now, as no one knew better than mr. darwin the difference between a speculation and a fact, i thought this little exhibition of scientific conscientiousness very noteworthy, where the only question concerned was of so highly speculative a character. i should not have been so much impressed if he had thought that by his temporary failure of memory he had put me on a wrong scent in any matter of fact, although even in such a case he is the only man i ever knew who would care to get out of bed at such a time at night in order to make the correction immediately, instead of waiting till next morning. but as the correction only had reference to a flimsy hypothesis, i certainly was very much impressed by this display of character."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, december [ ]. ... i have now read the last no. of h. spencer. ('principles of biology.') i do not know whether to think it better than the previous number, but it is wonderfully clever, and i dare say mostly true. i feel rather mean when i read him: i could bear, and rather enjoy feeling that he was twice as ingenious and clever as myself, but when i feel that he is about a dozen times my superior, even in the master art of wriggling, i feel aggrieved. if he had trained himself to observe more, even if at the expense, by the law of balancement, of some loss of thinking power, he would have been a wonderful man. ... i am heartily glad you are taking up the distribution of plants in new zealand, and suppose it will make part of your new book. your view, as i understand it, that new zealand subsided and formed two or more small islands, and then rose again, seems to me extremely probable... when i puzzled my brains about new zealand, i remember i came to the conclusion, as indeed i state in the 'origin,' that its flora, as well as that of other southern lands, had been tinctured by an antarctic flora, which must have existed before the glacial period. i concluded that new zealand never could have been closely connected with australia, though i supposed it had received some few australian forms by occasional means of transport. is there any reason to suppose that new zealand could have been more closely connected with south australia during the glacial period, when the eucalypti, etc., might have been driven further north? apparently there remains only the line, which i think you suggested, of sunken islands from new caledonia. please remember that the edwardsia was certainly drifted there by the sea. i remember in old days speculating on the amount of life, i.e. of organic chemical change, at different periods. there seems to me one very difficult element in the problem, namely, the state of development of the organic beings at each period, for i presume that a flora and fauna of cellular cryptogamic plants, of protozoa and radiata would lead to much less chemical change than is now going on. but i have scribbled enough. yours affectionately, ch. darwin. [the following letter is in acknowledgment of mr. rivers' reply to an earlier letter in which my father had asked for information on bu-variation: it may find a place here in illustration of the manner of my father's intercourse with those "whose avocations in life had to do with the rearing or use of living things" ("mr. dyer in 'charles darwin,'" "nature series", , page .)--an intercourse which bore such good fruit in the 'variation of animals and plants.' mr. dyer has some excellent remarks on the unexpected value thus placed on apparently trivial facts disinterred from weekly journals, or amassed by correspondence. he adds: "horticulturists who had... moulded plants almost at their will at the impulse of taste or profit were at once amazed and charmed to find that they had been doing scientific work and helping to establish a great theory."] charles darwin to t. rivers. (the late mr. rivers was an eminent horticulturist and writer on horticulture.) down, december [ ?]. my dear sir, permit me to thank you cordially for your most kind letter. for years i have read with interest every scrap which you have written in periodicals, and abstracted in ms. your book on roses, and several times i thought i would write to you, but did not know whether you would think me too intrusive. i shall, indeed, be truly obliged for any information you can supply me on bud-variation or sports. when any extra difficult points occur to me in my present subject (which is a mass of difficulties), i will apply to you, but i will not be unreasonable. it is most true what you say that any one to study well the physiology of the life of plants, ought to have under his eye a multitude of plants. i have endeavoured to do what i can by comparing statements by many writers and observing what i could myself. unfortunately few have observed like you have done. as you are so kind, i will mention one other point on which i am collecting facts; namely, the effect produced on the stock by the graft; thus, it is said, that the purple-leaved filbert affects the leaves of the common hazel on which it is grafted (i have just procured a plant to try), so variegated jessamine is said to affect its stock. i want these facts partly to throw light on the marvellous laburnum adami, trifacial oranges, etc. that laburnum case seems one of the strangest in physiology. i have now growing splendid, fertile, yellow laburnums (with a long raceme like the so-called waterer's laburnum) from seed of yellow flowers on the c. adami. to a man like myself, who is compelled to live a solitary life, and sees few persons, it is no slight satisfaction to hear that i have been able at all [to] interest by my books observers like yourself. as i shall publish on my present subject, i presume, within a year, it will be of no use your sending me the shoots of peaches and nectarines which you so kindly offer; i have recorded your facts. permit me again to thank you cordially; i have not often in my life received a kinder letter. my dear sir, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. chapter .v. -- the publication of the 'variation of animals and plants under domestication.' january , to june . [at the beginning of the year he was at work on the final chapter--"concluding remarks" of the 'variation of animals and plants under domestication,' which was begun after the rest of the ms. had been sent to the printers in the preceding december. with regard to the publication of the book he wrote to mr. murray, on january :-- "i cannot tell you how sorry i am to hear of the enormous size of my book. (on january he wrote to sir j.d. hooker: "i have been these last few days vexed and annoyed to a foolish degree by hearing that my ms. on dom. an. and cult. plants will make volumes, both bigger than the 'origin.' the volumes will have to be full-sized octavo, so i have written to murray to suggest details to be printed in small type. but i feel that the size is quite ludicrous in relation to the subject. i am ready to swear at myself and at every fool who writes a book.") i fear it can never pay. but i cannot shorten it now; nor, indeed, if i had foreseen its length, do i see which parts ought to have been omitted. "if you are afraid to publish it, say so at once, i beg you, and i will consider your note as cancelled. if you think fit, get any one whose judgment you rely on, to look over some of the more legible chapters, namely, the introduction, and on dogs and plants, the latter chapters being in my opinion, the dullest in the book... the list of chapters, and the inspection of a few here and there, would give a good judge a fair idea of the whole book. pray do not publish blindly, as it would vex me all my life if i led you to heavy loss." mr. murray referred the ms. to a literary friend, and, in spite of a somewhat adverse opinion, willingly agreed to publish the book. my father wrote:-- "your note has been a great relief to me. i am rather alarmed about the verdict of your friend, as he is not a man of science. i think if you had sent the 'origin' to an unscientific man, he would have utterly condemned it. i am, however, very glad that you have consulted any one on whom you can rely. "i must add, that my 'journal of researches' was seen in ms. by an eminent semi-scientific man, and was pronounced unfit for publication." the proofs were begun in march, and the last revise was finished on november th, and during this period the only intervals of rest were two visits of a week each at his brother erasmus's house in queen anne street. he notes in his diary:-- "i began this book [in the] beginning of (and then had some ms.), but owing to interruptions from my illness, and illness of children; from various editions of the 'origin,' and papers, especially orchis book and tendrils, i have spent four years and two months over it." the edition of 'animals and plants' was of copies, and of these were sold at mr. murray's autumnal sale, but it was not published until january , . a new edition of copies was printed in february of the same year. in he received the distinction of being made a knight of the prussian order "pour le merite." (the order "pour le merite" was founded in by frederick ii. by the re-christening of an "order of generosity," founded in . it was at one time strictly military, having been previously both civil and military, and in the order was again opened to civilians. the order consists of thirty members of german extraction, but distinguished foreigners are admitted to a kind of extraordinary membership. faraday, herschel, and thomas moore, have belonged to it in this way. from the thirty members a chancellor is elected by the king (the first officer of this kind was alexander v. humboldt); and it is the duty of the chancellor to notify a vacancy in the order to the remainder of the thirty, who then elect by vote the new member--but the king has technically the appointment in his own hands.) he seems not to have known how great the distinction was, for in june he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "what a man you are for sympathy. i was made "eques" some months ago, but did not think much about it. now, by jove, we all do; but you, in fact, have knighted me." the letters may now take up the story.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, i am heartily glad that you have been offered the presidentship of the british association, for it is a great honour, and as you have so much work to do, i am equally glad that you have declined it. i feel, however, convinced that you would have succeeded very well; but if i fancy myself in such a position, it actually makes my blood run cold. i look back with amazement at the skill and taste with which the duke of argyll made a multitude of little speeches at glasgow. by the way, i have not seen the duke's book ('the reign of law,' .), but i formerly thought that some of the articles which appeared in periodicals were very clever, but not very profound. one of these was reviewed in the "saturday review" ("saturday review", november , , 'the "edinburgh review" on the supernatural.' written by my cousin, mr. henry parker.) some years ago, and the fallacy of some main argument was admirably exposed, and i sent the article to you, and you agreed strongly with it... there was the other day a rather good review of the duke's book in the "spectator", and with a new explanation, either by the duke or the reviewer (i could not make out which), of rudimentary organs, namely, that economy of labour and material was a great guiding principle with god (ignoring waste of seed and of young monsters, etc.), and that making a new plan for the structure of animals was thought, and thought was labour, and therefore god kept to a uniform plan, and left rudiments. this is no exaggeration. in short, god is a man, rather cleverer than us... i am very much obliged for the "nation" (returned by this post); it is admirably good. you say i always guess wrong, but i do not believe any one, except asa gray, could have done the thing so well. i would bet even, or three to two, that it is asa gray, though one or two passages staggered me. i finish my book on 'domestic animals,' etc., by a single paragraph, answering, or rather throwing doubt, in so far as so little space permits, on asa gray's doctrine that each variation has been specially ordered or led along a beneficial line. it is foolish to touch such subjects, but there have been so many allusions to what i think about the part which god has played in the formation of organic beings (prof. judd allows me to quote from some notes which he has kindly given me:--"lyell once told me that he had frequently been asked if darwin was not one of the most unhappy of men, it being suggested that his outrage upon public opinion should have filled him with remorse." sir charles lyell must have been able, i think, to give a satisfactory answer on this point. professor judd continues:-- "i made a note of this and other conversations of lyell's at the time. at the present time such statements must appear strange to any one who does not recollect the revolution in opinion which has taken place during the last years [ ]."), that i thought it shabby to evade the question... i have even received several letters on the subject... i overlooked your sentence about providence, and suppose i treated it as buckland did his own theology, when his bridgewater treatise was read aloud to him for correction... [the following letter, from mrs. boole, is one of those referred to in the last letter to sir j.d. hooker:] dear sir, will you excuse my venturing to ask you a question, to which no one's answer but your own would be quite satisfactory? do you consider the holding of your theory of natural selection, in its fullest and most unreserved sense, to be inconsistent--i do not say with any particular scheme of theological doctrine--but with the following belief, namely:-- that knowledge is given to man by the direct inspiration of the spirit of god. that god is a personal and infinitely good being. that the effect of the action of the spirit of god on the brain of man is especially a moral effect. and that each individual man has within certain limits a power of choice as to how far he will yield to his hereditary animal impulses, and how far he will rather follow the guidance of the spirit, who is educating him into a power of resisting those impulses in obedience to moral motives? the reason why i ask you is this: my own impression has always been, not only that your theory was perfectly compatible with the faith to which i have just tried to give expression, but that your books afforded me a clue which would guide me in applying that faith to the solution of certain complicated psychological problems which it was of practical importance to me as a mother to solve. i felt that you had supplied one of the missing links--not to say the missing link--between the facts of science and the promises of religion. every year's experience tends to deepen in me that impression. but i have lately read remarks on the probable bearing of your theory on religious and moral questions which have perplexed and pained me sorely. i know that the persons who make such remarks must be cleverer and wiser than myself. i cannot feel sure that they are mistaken, unless you will tell me so. and i think--i cannot know for certain--but i think--that if i were an author, i would rather that the humblest student of my works should apply to me directly in a difficulty, than that she should puzzle too long over adverse and probably mistaken or thoughtless criticisms. at the same time i feel that you have a perfect right to refuse to answer such questions as i have asked you. science must take her path, and theology hers, and they will meet when and where and how god pleases, and you are in no sense responsible for it if the meeting-point should still be very far off. if i receive no answer to this letter i shall infer nothing from your silence, except that you felt i had no right to make such enquiries of a stranger. [my father replied as follows:] down, december , [ ]. dear madam, it would have gratified me much if i could have sent satisfactory answers to your questions, or, indeed, answers of any kind. but i cannot see how the belief that all organic beings, including man, have been genetically derived from some simple being, instead of having been separately created, bears on your difficulties. these, as it seems to me, can be answered only by widely different evidence from science, or by the so-called "inner consciousness." my opinion is not worth more than that of any other man who has thought on such subjects, and it would be folly in me to give it. i may, however, remark that it has always appeared to me more satisfactory to look at the immense amount of pain and suffering in this world as the inevitable result of the natural sequence of events, i.e. general laws, rather than from the direct intervention of god, though i am aware this is not logical with reference to an omniscient deity. your last question seems to resolve itself into the problem of free will and necessity, which has been found by most persons insoluble. i sincerely wish that this note had not been as utterly valueless as it is. i would have sent full answers, though i have little time or strength to spare, had it been in my power. i have the honour to remain, dear madam, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. p.s.--i am grieved that my views should incidentally have caused trouble to your mind, but i thank you for your judgment, and honour you for it, that theology and science should each run its own course, and that in the present case i am not responsible if their meeting-point should still be far off. [the next letter discusses the 'reign of law,' referred to a few pages back:] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, june [ ]. ... i am at present reading the duke, and am very much interested by him; yet i cannot but think, clever as the whole is, that parts are weak, as when he doubts whether each curvature of the beak of humming-birds is of service to each species. he admits, perhaps too fully, that i have shown the use of each little ridge and shape of each petal in orchids, and how strange he does not extend the view to humming-birds. still odder, it seems to me, all that he says on beauty, which i should have thought a nonentity, except in the mind of some sentient being. he might have as well said that love existed during the secondary or palaeozoic periods. i hope you are getting on with your book better than i am with mine, which kills me with the labour of correcting, and is intolerably dull, though i did not think so when i was writing it. a naturalist's life would be a happy one if he had only to observe, and never to write. we shall be in london for a week in about a fortnight's time, and i shall enjoy having a breakfast talk with you. yours affectionately, c. darwin. [the following letter refers to the new and improved translation of the 'origin,' undertaken by professor carus:] charles darwin to j. victor carus. down, february [ ]. my dear sir, i have read your preface with care. it seems to me that you have treated bronn with complete respect and great delicacy, and that you have alluded to your own labour with much modesty. i do not think that any of bronn's friends can complain of what you say and what you have done. for my own sake, i grieve that you have not added notes, as i am sure that i should have profited much by them; but as you have omitted bronn's objections, i believe that you have acted with excellent judgment and fairness in leaving the text without comment to the independent verdict of the reader. i heartily congratulate you that the main part of your labour is over; it would have been to most men a very troublesome task, but you seem to have indomitable powers of work, judging from those two wonderful and most useful volumes on zoological literature ('bibliotheca zoologica,' .) edited by you, and which i never open without surprise at their accuracy, and gratitude for their usefulness. i cannot sufficiently tell you how much i rejoice that you were persuaded to superintend the translation of the present edition of my book, for i have now the great satisfaction of knowing that the german public can judge fairly of its merits and demerits... with my cordial and sincere thanks, believe me, my dear sir, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. [the earliest letter which i have seen from my father to professor haeckel, was written in , and from that time forward they corresponded (though not, i think, with any regularity) up to the end of my father's life. his friendship with haeckel was not nearly growth of correspondence, as was the case with some others, for instance, fritz muller. haeckel paid more than one visit to down, and these were thoroughly enjoyed by my father. the following letter will serve to show the strong feeling of regard which he entertained for his correspondent--a feeling which i have often heard him emphatically express, and which was warmly returned. the book referred to is haeckel's 'generelle morphologie,' published in , a copy of which my father received from the author in january . dr. e. krause ('charles darwin und sein verhaltniss zu deutschland,' .) has given a good account of professor haeckel's services to the cause of evolution. after speaking of the lukewarm reception which the 'origin' met with in germany on its first publication, he goes on to describe the first adherents of the new faith as more or less popular writers, not especially likely to advance its acceptance with the professorial or purely scientific world. and he claims for haeckel that it was his advocacy of evolution in his 'radiolaria' ( ), and at the "versammlung" of naturalists at stettin in , that placed the darwinian question for the first time publicly before the forum of german science, and his enthusiastic propagandism that chiefly contributed to its success. mr. huxley, writing in , paid a high tribute to professor haeckel as the coryphaeus of the darwinian movement in germany. of his 'generelle morphologie,' "an attempt to work out the practical application" of the doctrine of evolution to their final results, he says that it has the "force and suggestiveness, and... systematising power of oken without his extravagance." professor huxley also testifies to the value of haeckel's 'schopfungs-geschichte' as an exposition of the 'generelle morphologie' "for an educated public." again, in his 'evolution in biology' (an article in the 'encyclopaedia britannica,' th edition, reprinted in 'science and culture,' , page .), mr. huxley wrote: "whatever hesitation may, not unfrequently, be felt by less daring minds, in following haeckel in many of his speculations, his attempt to systematise the doctrine of evolution, and to exhibit its influence as the central thought of modern biology, cannot fail to have a far-reaching influence on the progress of science." in the following letter my father alludes to the somewhat fierce manner in which professor haeckel fought the battle of 'darwinismus,' and on this subject dr. krause has some good remarks (page ). he asks whether much that happened in the heat of the conflict might not well have been otherwise, and adds that haeckel himself is the last man to deny this. nevertheless he thinks that even these things may have worked well for the cause of evolution, inasmuch as haeckel "concentrated on himself by his 'ursprung des menschen-geschlechts,' his 'generelle morphologie,' and 'schopfungs-geschichte,' all the hatred and bitterness which evolution excited in certain quarters," so that, "in a surprisingly short time it became the fashion in germany that haeckel alone should be abused, while darwin was held up as the ideal of forethought and moderation."] charles darwin to e. haeckel. down, may , . dear haeckel, your letter of the th has given me great pleasure, for you have received what i said in the most kind and cordial manner. you have in part taken what i said much stronger than i had intended. it never occurred to me for a moment to doubt that your work, with the whole subject so admirably and clearly arranged, as well as fortified by so many new facts and arguments, would not advance our common object in the highest degree. all that i think is that you will excite anger, and that anger so completely blinds every one, that your arguments would have no chance of influencing those who are already opposed to our views. moreover, i do not at all like that you, towards whom i feel so much friendship, should unnecessarily make enemies, and there is pain and vexation enough in the world without more being caused. but i repeat that i can feel no doubt that your work will greatly advance our subject, and i heartily wish it could be translated into english, for my own sake and that of others. with respect to what you say about my advancing too strongly objections against my own views, some of my english friends think that i have erred on this side; but truth compelled me to write what i did, and i am inclined to think it was good policy. the belief in the descent theory is slowly spreading in england (in october he wrote to mr. wallace:--"mr. warrington has lately read an excellent and spirited abstract of the 'origin' before the victoria institute, and as this is a most orthodox body, he has gained the name of the devil's advocate. the discussion which followed during three consecutive meetings is very rich from the nonsense talked. if you would care to see the number i could send it you."), even amongst those who can give no reason for their belief. no body of men were at first so much opposed to my views as the members of the london entomological society, but now i am assured that, with the exception of two or three old men, all the members concur with me to a certain extent. it has been a great disappointment to me that i have never received your long letter written to me from the canary islands. i am rejoiced to hear that your tour, which seems to have been a most interesting one, has done your health much good. i am working away at my new book, but make very slow progress, and the work tries my health, which is much the same as when you were here. victor carus is going to translate it, but whether it is worth translation, i am rather doubtful. i am very glad to hear that there is some chance of your visiting england this autumn, and all in this house will be delighted to see you here. believe me, my dear haeckel, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. charles darwin to f. muller. down, july [ ]. my dear sir, i received a week ago your letter of june , full as usual of valuable matter and specimens. it arrived at exactly the right time, for i was enabled to give a pretty full abstract of your observations on the plant's own pollen being poisonous. i have inserted this abstract in the proo-sheets in my chapter on sterility, and it forms the most striking part of my whole chapter. (in 'the variation of animals and plants.') i thank you very sincerely for the most interesting observations, which, however, i regret that you did not publish independently. i have been forced to abbreviate one or two parts more than i wished... your letters always surprise me, from the number of points to which you attend. i wish i could make my letters of any interest to you, for i hardly ever see a naturalist, and live as retired a life as you in brazil. with respect to mimetic plants, i remember hooker many years ago saying he believed that there were many, but i agree with you that it would be most difficult to distinguish between mimetic resemblance and the effects of peculiar conditions. who can say to which of these causes to attribute the several plants with heath-like foliage at the cape of good hope? is it not also a difficulty that quadrupeds appear to recognise plants more by their [scent] than their appearance? what i have just said reminds me to ask you a question. sir j. lubbock brought me the other day what appears to be a terrestrial planaria (the first ever found in the northern hemisphere) and which was coloured exactly like our dark-coloured slugs. now slugs are not devoured by birds, like the shell-bearing species, and this made me remember that i found the brazilian planariae actually together with striped vaginuli which i believe were similarly coloured. can you throw any light on this? i wish to know, because i was puzzled some months ago how it would be possible to account for the bright colours of the planariae in reference to sexual selection. by the way, i suppose they are hermaphrodites. do not forget to aid me, if in your power, with answers to any of my questions on expression, for the subject interests me greatly. with cordial thanks for your never-failing kindness, believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, july [ ]. my dear lyell, many thanks for your long letter. i am sorry to hear that you are in despair about your book (the nd volume of the th edition of the 'principles.'); i well know that feeling, but am now getting out of the lower depths. i shall be very much pleased, if you can make the least use of my present book, and do not care at all whether it is published before yours. mine will appear towards the end of november of this year; you speak of yours as not coming out till november, , which i hope may be an error. there is nothing about man in my book which can interfere with you, so i will order all the completed clean sheets to be sent (and others as soon as ready) to you, but please observe you will not care for the first volume, which is a mere record of the amount of variation; but i hope the second will be somewhat more interesting. though i fear the whole must be dull. i rejoice from my heart that you are going to speak out plainly about species. my book about man, if published, will be short, and a large portion will be devoted to sexual selection, to which subject i alluded in the 'origin' as bearing on man... charles darwin to c. lyell. down, august [ ]. my dear lyell, i thank you cordially for your last two letters. the former one did me real good, for i had got so wearied with the subject that i could hardly bear to correct the proofs (the proofs of 'animals and plants,' which lyell was then reading.), and you gave me fresh heart. i remember thinking that when you came to the pigeon chapter you would pass it over as quite unreadable. your last letter has interested me in very many ways, and i have been glad to hear about those horrid unbelieving frenchmen. i have been particularly pleased that you have noticed pangenesis. i do not know whether you ever had the feeling of having thought so much over a subject that you had lost all power of judging it. this is my case with pangenesis (which is or years old), but i am inclined to think that if it be admitted as a probable hypothesis it will be a somewhat important step in biology. i cannot help still regretting that you have ever looked at the slips, for i hope to improve the whole a good deal. it is surprising to me, and delightful, that you should care in the least about the plants. altogether you have given me one of the best cordials i ever had in my life, and i heartily thank you. i despatched this morning the french edition. (of the 'origin.' it appears that my father was sending a copy of the french edition to sir charles. the introduction was by mdlle. royer, who translated the book.) the introduction was a complete surprise to me, and i dare say has injured the book in france; nevertheless... it shows, i think, that the woman is uncommonly clever. once again many thanks for the renewed courage with which i shall attack the horrid proof-sheets. yours affectionately, charles darwin. p.s.--a russian who is translating my new book into russian has been here, and says you are immensely read in russia, and many editions--how many i forget. six editions of buckle and four editions of the 'origin.' charles darwin to asa gray. down, october [ ]. my dear gray, i send by this post clean sheets of volume i. up to page , and there are only pages in this volume. i am very glad to hear that you are going to review my book; but if the "nation" (the book was reviewed by dr. gray in the "nation", march , .) is a newspaper i wish it were at the bottom of the sea, for i fear that you will thus be stopped reviewing me in a scientific journal. the first volume is all details, and you will not be able to read it; and you must remember that the chapters on plants are written for naturalists who are not botanists. the last chapter in volume i. is, however, i think, a curious compilation of facts; it is on bu-variation. in volume ii. some of the chapters are more interesting; and i shall be very curious to hear your verdict on the chapter on close inte-breeding. the chapter on what i call pangenesis will be called a mad dream, and i shall be pretty well satisfied if you think it a dream worth publishing; but at the bottom of my own mind i think it contains a great truth. i finish my book with a semi-theological paragraph, in which i quote and differ from you; what you will think of it, i know not... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, november [ ]. my dear hooker, congratulate me, for i have finished the last revise of the last sheet of my book. it has been an awful job: seven and a half months correcting the press: the book, from much small type, does not look big, but is really very big. i have had hard work to keep up to the mark, but during the last week only few revises came, so that i have rested and feel more myself. hence, after our long mutual silence, i enjoy myself by writing a note to you, for the sake of exhaling, and hearing from you. on account of the index (the index was made by mr. w.s. dallas; i have often heard my father express his admiration of this excellent piece of work.), i do not suppose that you will receive your copy till the middle of next month. i shall be intensely anxious to hear what you think about pangenesis; though i can see how fearfully imperfect, even in mere conjectural conclusions, it is; yet it has been an infinite satisfaction to me somehow to connect the various large groups of facts, which i have long considered, by an intelligible thread. i shall not be at all surprised if you attack it and me with unparalleled ferocity. it will be my endeavour to do as little as possible for some time, but [i] shall soon prepare a paper or two for the linnean society. in a short time we shall go to london for ten days, but the time is not yet fixed. now i have told you a deal about myself, and do let me hear a good deal about your own past and future doings. can you pay us a visit, early in december?... i have seen no one for an age, and heard no news. ... about my book i will give you a bit of advice. skip the whole of volume i., except the last chapter (and that need only be skimmed) and skip largely in the nd volume; and then you will say it is a very good book. . ['the variation of animals and plants' was, as already mentioned, published on january , , and on that day he sent a copy to fritz muller, and wrote to him:-- "i send by this post, by french packet, my new book, the publication of which has been much delayed. the greater part, as you will see, is not meant to be read; but i should very much like to hear what you think of 'pangenesis,' though i fear it will appear to every one far too speculative."] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. february [ ]. ... i am very much pleased at what you say about my introduction; after it was in type i was as near as possible cancelling the whole. i have been for some time in despair about my book, and if i try to read a few pages i feel fairly nauseated, but do not let this make you praise it; for i have made up my mind that it is not worth a fifth part of the enormous labour it has cost me. i assure you that all that is worth your doing (if you have time for so much) is glancing at chapter vi., and reading parts of the later chapters. the facts on self-impotent plants seem to me curious, and i have worked out to my own satisfaction the good from crossing and evil from interbreeding. i did read pangenesis the other evening, but even this, my beloved child, as i had fancied, quite disgusted me. the devil take the whole book; and yet now i am at work again as hard as i am able. it is really a great evil that from habit i have pleasure in hardly anything except natural history, for nothing else makes me forget my eve-recurrent uncomfortable sensations. but i must not howl any more, and the critics may say what they like; i did my best, and man can do no more. what a splendid pursuit natural history would be if it was all observing and no writing!... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, what is the good of having a friend, if one may not boast to him? i heard yesterday that murray has sold in a week the whole edition of copies of my book, and the sale so pressing that he has agreed with clowes to get another edition in fourteen days! this has done me a world of good, for i had got into a sort of dogged hatred of my book. and now there has appeared a review in the "pall mall" which has pleased me excessively, more perhaps than is reasonable. i am quite content, and do not care how much i may be pitched into. if by any chance you should hear who wrote the article in the "pall mall", do please tell me; it is some one who writes capitally, and who knows the subject. i went to luncheon on sunday, to lubbock's, partly in hopes of seeing you, and, be hanged to you, you were not there. your cock-a-hoop friend, c.d. [independently of the favourable tone of the able series of notices in the "pall mall gazette" (february , , , ), my father may well have been gratified by the following passages:-- "we must call attention to the rare and noble calmness with which he expounds his own views, undisturbed by the heats of polemical agitation which those views have excited, and persistently refusing to retort on his antagonists by ridicule, by indignation, or by contempt. considering the amount of vituperation and insinuation which has come from the other side, this forbearance is supremely dignified." and again in the third notice, february :-- "nowhere has the author a word that could wound the most sensitive sel-love of an antagonist; nowhere does he, in text or note, expose the fallacies and mistakes of brother investigators... but while abstaining from impertinent censure, he is lavish in acknowledging the smallest debts he may owe; and his book will make many men happy." i am indebted to messrs. smith & elder for the information that these articles were written by mr. g.h. lewes.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, i have had almost as many letters to write of late as you can have, viz. from to per diem, chiefly getting up facts on sexual selection, therefore i have felt no inclination to write to you, and now i mean to write solely about my book for my own satisfaction, and not at all for yours. the first edition was copies, and now the second is printed off; sharp work. did you look at the review in the "athenaeum" ("athenaeum", february , . my father quoted pouchet's assertion that "variation under domestication throws no light on the natural modification of species." the reviewer quotes the end of a passage in which my father declares that he can see no force in pouchet's arguments, or rather assertions, and then goes on: "we are sadly mistaken if there are not clear proofs in the pages of the book before us that, on the contrary, mr. darwin has perceived, felt, and yielded to the force of the arguments or assertions of his french antagonist." the following may serve as samples of the rest of the review:-- "henceforth the rhetoricians will have a better illustration of anti-climax than the mountain which brought forth a mouse,... in the discoverer of the origin of species, who tried to explain the variation of pigeons! "a few summary words. on the 'origin of species' mr. darwin has nothing, and is never likely to have anything, to say; but on the vastly important subject of inheritance, the transmission of peculiarities once acquired through successive generations, this work is a valuable store-house of facts for curious students and practical breeders."), showing profound contempt of me?... it is a shame that he should have said that i have taken much from pouchet, without acknowledgment; for i took literally nothing, there being nothing to take. there is a capital review in the "gardeners' chronicle" which will sell the book if anything will. i don't quite see whether i or the writer is in a muddle about man causing variability. if a man drops a bit of iron into sulphuric acid he does not cause the affinities to come into play, yet he may be said to make sulphate of iron. i do not know how to avoid ambiguity. after what the "pall mall gazette" and the "chronicle" have said i do not care a d--. i fear pangenesis is stillborn; bates says he has read it twice, and is not sure that he understands it. h. spencer says the view is quite different from his (and this is a great relief to me, as i feared to be accused of plagiarism, but utterly failed to be sure what he meant, so thought it safest to give my view as almost the same as his), and he says he is not sure he understands it... am i not a poor devil? yet i took such pains, i must think that i expressed myself clearly. old sir h. holland says he has read it twice, and thinks it very tough; but believes that sooner or later "some view akin to it" will be accepted. you will think me very self-sufficient, when i declare that i feel sure if pangenesis is now stillborn it will, thank god, at some future time reappear, begotten by some other father, and christened by some other name. have you ever met with any tangible and clear view of what takes place in generation, whether by seeds or buds, or how a long-lost character can possibly reappear; or how the male element can possibly affect the mother plant, or the mother animal, so that her future progeny are affected? now all these points and many others are connected together, whether truly or falsely is another question, by pangenesis. you see i die hard, and stick up for my poor child. this letter is written for my own satisfaction, and not for yours. so bear it. yours affectionately, ch. darwin. charles darwin to a. newton. (prof. of zoology at cambridge.) down, february [ ]. dear newton, i suppose it would be universally held extremely wrong for a defendant to write to a judge to express his satisfaction at a judgment in his favour; and yet i am going thus to act. i have just read what you have said in the 'record' ('zoological record.' the volume for , published december .) about my pigeon chapters, and it has gratified me beyond measure. i have sometimes felt a little disappointed that the labour of so many years seemed to be almost thrown away, for you are the first man capable of forming a judgment (excepting partly quatrefages), who seems to have thought anything of this part of my work. the amount of labour, correspondence, and care, which the subject cost me, is more than you could well suppose. i thought the article in the "athenaeum" was very unjust; but now i feel amply repaid, and i cordially thank you for your sympathy and too warm praise. what labour you have bestowed on your part of the 'record'! i ought to be ashamed to speak of my amount of work. i thoroughly enjoyed the sunday, which you and the others spent here, and i remain, dear newton, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, february [ ]. my dear wallace, you cannot well imagine how much i have been pleased by what you say about 'pangenesis.' none of my friends will speak out... hooker, as far as i understand him, which i hardly do at present, seems to think that the hypothesis is little more than saying that organisms have such and such potentialities. what you say exactly and fully expresses my feeling, viz. that it is a relief to have some feasible explanation of the various facts, which can be given up as soon as any better hypothesis is found. it has certainly been an immense relief to my mind; for i have been stumbling over the subject for years, dimly seeing that some relation existed between the various classes of facts. i now hear from h. spencer that his views quoted in my foot-note refer to something quite distinct, as you seem to have perceived. i shall be very glad to hear at some future day your criticisms on the "causes of variability." indeed i feel sure that i am right about sterility and natural selection... i do not quite understand your case, and we think that a word or two is misplaced. i wish sometime you would consider the case under the following point of view:--if sterility is caused or accumulated through natural selection, than as every degree exists up to absolute barrenness, natural selection must have the power of increasing it. now take two species, a and b, and assume that they are (by any means) half-sterile, i.e. produce half the full number of offspring. now try and make (by natural selection) a and b absolutely sterile when crossed, and you will find how difficult it is. i grant indeed, it is certain, that the degree of sterility of the individuals a and b will vary, but any such extra-sterile individuals of, we will say a, if they should hereafter breed with other individuals of a, will bequeath no advantage to their progeny, by which these families will tend to increase in number over other families of a, which are not more sterile when crossed with b. but i do not know that i have made this any clearer than in the chapter in my book. it is a most difficult bit of reasoning, which i have gone over and over again on paper with diagrams. ... hearty thanks for your letter. you have indeed pleased me, for i had given up the great god pan as a stillborn deity. i wish you could be induced to make it clear with your admirable powers of elucidation in one of the scientific journals... charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, i have been deeply interested by your letter, and we had a good laugh over huxley's remark, which was so deuced clever that you could not recollect it. i cannot quite follow your train of thought, for in the last page you admit all that i wish, having apparently denied all, or thought all mere words in the previous pages of your note; but it may be my muddle. i see clearly that any satisfaction which pan may give will depend on the constitution of each man's mind. if you have arrived already at any similar conclusion, the whole will of course appear stale to you. i heard yesterday from wallace, who says (excuse horrid vanity), "i can hardly tell you how much i admire the chapter on 'pangenesis.' it is a positive comfort to me to have any feasible explanation of a difficulty that has always been haunting me, and i shall never be able to give it up till a better one supplies its place, and that i think hardly possible, etc." now his foregoing [italicised] words express my sentiments exactly and fully: though perhaps i feel the relief extra strongly from having during many years vainly attempted to form some hypothesis. when you or huxley say that a single cell of a plant, or the stump of an amputated limb, have the "potentiality" of reproducing the whole--or "diffuse an influence," these words give me no positive idea;--but when it is said that the cells of a plant, or stump, include atoms derived from every other cell of the whole organism and capable of development, i gain a distinct idea. but this idea would not be worth a rush, if it applied to one case alone; but it seems to me to apply to all the forms of reproduction--inheritance--metamorphosis--to the abnormal transposition of organs--to the direct action of the male element on the mother plant, etc. therefore i fully believe that each cell does actually throw off an atom or gemmule of its contents;--but whether or not, this hypothesis serves as a useful connecting link for various grand classes of physiological facts, which at present stand absolutely isolated. i have touched on the doubtful point (alluded to by huxley) how far atoms derived from the same cell may become developed into different structure accordingly as they are differently nourished; i advanced as illustrations galls and polypoid excrescences... it is a real pleasure to me to write to you on this subject, and i should be delighted if we can understand each other; but you must not let your good nature lead you on. remember, we always fight tooth and nail. we go to london on tuesday, first for a week to queen anne street, and afterwards to miss wedgwood's, in regent's park, and stay the whole month, which, as my gardener truly says, is a "terrible thing" for my experiments. charles darwin to w. ogle. (dr. william ogle, now the superintendent of statistics to the registrar-general.) down, march [ ]. dear sir, i thank you most sincerely for your letter, which is very interesting to me. i wish i had known of these views of hippocrates before i had published, for they seem almost identical with mine--merely a change of terms--and an application of them to classes of facts necessarily unknown to the old philosopher. the whole case is a good illustration of how rarely anything is new. hippocrates has taken the wind out of my sails, but i care very little about being forestalled. i advance the views merely as a provisional hypothesis, but with the secret expectation that sooner or later some such view will have to be admitted. ... i do not expect the reviewers will be so learned as you: otherwise, no doubt, i shall be accused of wilfully stealing pangenesis from hippocrates,--for this is the spirit some reviewers delight to show. charles darwin to victor carus. down, march [ ]. ... i am very much obliged to you for sending me so frankly your opinion on pangenesis, and i am sorry it is unfavourable, but i cannot quite understand your remark on pangenesis, selection, and the struggle for life not being more methodical. i am not at all surprised at your unfavourable verdict; i know many, probably most, will come to the same conclusion. one english review says it is much too complicated... some of my friends are enthusiastic on the hypothesis... sir c. lyell says to every one, "you may not believe in 'pangenesis,' but if you once understand it, you will never get it out of your mind." and with this criticism i am perfectly content. all cases of inheritance and reversion and development now appear to me under a new light... [an extract from a letter to fritz muller, though of later date (june), may be given here:-- "your letter of april has much interested me. i am delighted that you approve of my book, for i value your opinion more than that of almost any one. i have yet hopes that you will think well of pangenesis. i feel sure that our minds are somewhat alike, and i find it a great relief to have some definite, though hypothetical view, when i reflect on the wonderful transformations of animals,--the re-growth of parts,--and especially the direct action of pollen on the mother-form, etc. it often appears to me almost certain that the characters of the parents are "photographed" on the child, only by means of material atoms derived from each cell in both parents, and developed in the child."] charles darwin to asa gray. down, may [ ]. my dear gray, i have been a most ungrateful and ungracious man not to have written to you an immense time ago to thank you heartily for the "nation", and for all your most kind aid in regard to the american edition [of 'animals and plants']. but i have been of late overwhelmed with letters, which i was forced to answer, and so put off writing to you. this morning i received the american edition (which looks capital), with your nice preface, for which hearty thanks. i hope to heaven that the book will succeed well enough to prevent you repenting of your aid. this arrival has put the finishing stroke to my conscience, which will endure its wrongs no longer. ... your article in the "nation" [march ] seems to me very good, and you give an excellent idea of pangenesis--an infant cherished by few as yet, except his tender parent, but which will live a long life. there is parental presumption for you! you give a good slap at my concluding metaphor (a short abstract of the precipice metaphor is given in volume i. dr. gray's criticism on this point is as follows: "but in mr. darwin's parallel, to meet the case of nature according to his own view of it, not only the fragments of rock (answering to variation) should fall, but the edifice (answering to natural selection) should rise, irrespective of will or choice!" but my father's parallel demands that natural selection shall be the architect, not the edifice--the question of design only comes in with regard to the form of the building materials.): undoubtedly i ought to have brought in and contrasted natural and artificial selection; but it seems so obvious to me that natural selection depended on contingencies even more complex than those which must have determined the shape of each fragment at the base of my precipice. what i wanted to show was that in reference to pre-ordainment whatever holds good in the formation of a pouter pigeon holds good in the formation of a natural species of pigeon. i cannot see that this is false. if the right variations occurred, and no others, natural selection would be superfluous. a reviewer in an edinburgh paper, who treats me with profound contempt, says on this subject that professor asa gray could with the greatest ease smash me into little pieces. (the "daily review", april , . my father has given rather a highly coloured version of the reviewer's remarks: "we doubt not that professor asa gray... could show that natural selection... is simply an instrument in the hands of an omnipotent and omniscient creator." the reviewer goes on to say that the passage in question is a "very melancholy one," and that the theory is the "apotheosis of materialism.") believe me, my dear gray, your ungrateful but sincere friend, charles darwin. charles darwin to g. bentham. down, june , . my dear mr. bentham, as your address (presidential address to the linnean society.) is somewhat of the nature of a verdict from a judge, i do not know whether it is proper for me to do so, but i must and will thank you for the pleasure which you have given me. i am delighted at what you say about my book. i got so tired of it, that for months together i thought myself a perfect fool for having given up so much time in collecting and observing little facts, but now i do not care if a score of common critics speak as contemptuously of the book as did the "athenaeum". i feel justified in this, for i have so complete a reliance on your judgment that i feel certain that i should have bowed to your judgment had it been as unfavourable as it is the contrary. what you say about pangenesis quite satisfies me, and is as much perhaps as any one is justified in saying. i have read your whole address with the greatest interest. it must have cost you a vast amount of trouble. with cordial thanks, pray believe me, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i fear that it is not likely that you have a superfluous copy of your address; if you have, i should much like to send one to fritz muller in the interior of brazil. by the way let me add that i discussed bud-variation chiefly from a belief which is common to several persons, that all variability is related to sexual generation; i wished to show clearly that this was an error. [the above series of letters may serve to show to some extent the reception which the new book received. before passing on (in the next chapter) to the 'descent of man,' i give a letter referring to the translation of fritz muller's book, 'fur darwin,' it was originally published in , but the english translation, by mr. dallas, which bore the title suggested by sir c. lyell, of 'facts and arguments for darwin,' did not appear until :] charles darwin to f. muller. down, march [ ]. my dear sir, your brother, as you will have heard from him, felt so convinced that you would not object to a translation of 'fur darwin' (in a letter to fritz muller, my father wrote:--"i am vexed to see that on the title my name is more conspicuous than yours, which i especially objected to, and i cautioned the printers after seeing one proof."), that i have ventured to arrange for a translation. engelmann has very liberally offered me cliches of the woodcuts for thalers; mr. murray has agreed to bring out a translation (and he is our best publisher) on commission, for he would not undertake the work on his own risk; and i have agreed with mr. w.s. dallas (who has translated von siebold on parthenogenesis, and many german works, and who writes very good english) to translate the book. he thinks (and he is a good judge) that it is important to have some few corrections or additions, in order to account for a translation appearing so lately [i.e. at such a long interval of time] after the original; so that i hope you will be able to send some... [two letters may be placed here as bearing on the spread of evolutionary ideas in france and germany:] charles darwin to a. gaudry. down, january [ ]. dear sir, i thank you for your interesting essay on the influence of the geological features of the country on the mind and habits of the ancient athenians (this appears to refer to m. gaudry's paper translated in the 'geol. mag.,' , page .), and for your very obliging letter. i am delighted to hear that you intend to consider the relations of fossil animals in connection with their genealogy; it will afford you a fine field for the exercise of your extensive knowledge and powers of reasoning. your belief will i suppose, at present, lower you in the estimation of your countrymen; but judging from the rapid spread in all parts of europe, excepting france, of the belief in the common descent of allied species, i must think that this belief will before long become universal. how strange it is that the country which gave birth to buffon, the elder geoffroy, and especially to lamarck, should now cling so pertinaciously to the belief that species are immutable creations. my work on variation, etc., under domestication, will appear in a french translation in a few months' time, and i will do myself the pleasure and honour of directing the publisher to send a copy to you to the same address as this letter. with sincere respect, i remain, dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. [the next letter is of especial interest, as showing how high a value my father placed on the support of the younger german naturalists:] charles darwin to w. preyer. (now professor of physiology at jena.) march , . ... i am delighted to hear that you uphold the doctrine of the modification of species, and defend my views. the support which i receive from germany is my chief ground for hoping that our views will ultimately prevail. to the present day i am continually abused or treated with contempt by writers of my own country; but the younger naturalists are almost all on my side, and sooner or later the public must follow those who make the subject their special study. the abuse and contempt of ignorant writers hurts me very little... chapter .vi. -- work on 'man.' - . [in the autobiographical chapter in volume i., my father gives the circumstances which led to his writing the 'descent of man.' he states that his collection of facts, begun in or , was continued for many years without any definite idea of publishing on the subject. the following letter to mr. wallace shows that in the period of ill-health and depression about he despaired of ever being able to do so:] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, [may?] [ ]. dear wallace, i am so much better that i have just finished a paper for linnean society (on the three forms, etc., of lythrum.); but i am not yet at all strong, i felt much disinclination to write, and therefore you must forgive me for not having sooner thanked you for your paper on 'man' ('anthropological review,' march .), received on the th. but first let me say that i have hardly ever in my life been more struck by any paper than that on 'variation,' etc. etc., in the "reader". ('"reader", april , . "on the phenomena of variation," etc. abstract of a paper read before the linnean society, march , .) i feel sure that such papers will do more for the spreading of our views on the modification of species than any separate treatises on the simple subject itself. it is really admirable; but you ought not in the man paper to speak of the theory as mine; it is just as much yours as mine. one correspondent has already noticed to me your "high-minded" conduct on this head. but now for your man paper, about which i should like to write more than i can. the great leading idea is quite new to me, viz. that during late ages, the mind will have been modified more than the body; yet i had got as far as to see with you that the struggle between the races of man depended entirely on intellectual and moral qualities. the latter part of the paper i can designate only as grand and most eloquently done. i have shown your paper to two or three persons who have been here, and they have been equally struck with it. i am not sure that i go with you on all minor points: when reading sir g. grey's account of the constant battles of australian savages, i remember thinking that natural selection would come in, and likewise with the esquimaux, with whom the art of fishing and managing canoes is said to be hereditary. i rather differ on the rank, under a classificatory point of view, which you assign to man; i do not think any character simply in excess ought ever to be used for the higher divisions. ants would not be separated from other hymenopterous insects, however high the instinct of the one, and however low the instincts of the other. with respect to the differences of race, a conjecture has occurred to me that much may be due to the correlation of complexion (and consequently hair) with constitution. assume that a dusky individual best escaped miasma, and you will readily see what i mean. i persuaded the director-general of the medical department of the army to send printed forms to the surgeons of all regiments in tropical countries to ascertain this point, but i dare say i shall never get any returns. secondly, i suspect that a sort of sexual selection has been the most powerful means of changing the races of man. i can show that the different races have a widely different standard of beauty. among savages the most powerful men will have the pick of the women, and they will generally leave the most descendants. i have collected a few notes on man, but i do not suppose that i shall ever use them. do you intend to follow out your views, and if so, would you like at some future time to have my few references and notes? i am sure i hardly know whether they are of any value, and they are at present in a state of chaos. there is much more that i should like to write, but i have not strength. believe me, dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--our aristocracy is handsomer (more hideous according to a chinese or negro) than the middle classes, from (having the) pick of the women; but oh, what a scheme is primogeniture for destroying natural selection! i fear my letter will be barely intelligible to you. [in february , when the manuscript of 'animals and plants' had been sent to messrs. clowes to be printed, and before the proofs began to come in, he had an interval of spare time, and began a "chapter on man," but he soon found it growing under his hands, and determined to publish it separately as a "very small volume." the work was interrupted by the necessity of correcting the proofs of 'animals and plants,' and by some botanical work, but was resumed in the following year, , the moment he could give himself up to it. he recognized with regret the gradual change in his mind that rendered continuous work more and more necessary to him as he grew older. this is expressed in a letter to sir j.d. hooker, june , , which repeats to some extent what is expressed in the autobiography:-- "i am glad you were at the 'messiah,' it is the one thing that i should like to hear again, but i dare say i should find my soul too dried up to appreciate it as in old days; and then i should feel very flat, for it is a horrid bore to feel as i constantly do, that i am a withered leaf for every subject except science. it sometimes makes me hate science, though god knows i ought to be thankful for such a perennial interest, which makes me forget for some hours every day my accursed stomach." the work on man was interrupted by illness in the early summer of , and he left home on july th for freshwater, in the isle of wight, where he remained with his family until august st. here he made the acquaintance of mrs. cameron. she received the whole family with open-hearted kindness and hospitality, and my father always retained a warm feeling of friendship for her. she made an excellent photograph of him, which was published with the inscription written by him: "i like this photograph very much better than any other which has been taken of me." further interruption occurred in the autumn so that continuous work on the 'descent of man' did not begin until . the following letters give some idea of the earlier work in :] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, february , [ ?]. my dear wallace, i am hard at work on sexual selection, and am driven half mad by the number of collateral points which require investigation, such as the relative number of the two sexes, and especially on polygamy. can you aid me with respect to birds which have strongly marked secondary sexual characters, such as birds of paradise, humming-birds, the rupicola, or any other such cases? many gallinaceous birds certainly are polygamous. i suppose that birds may be known not to be polygamous if they are seen during the whole breeding season to associate in pairs, or if the male incubates or aids in feeding the young. will you have the kindness to turn this in your mind? but it is a shame to trouble you now that, as i am heartily glad to hear, you are at work on your malayan travels. i am fearfully puzzled how far to extend your protective views with respect to the females in various classes. the more i work the more important sexual selection apparently comes out. can butterflies be polygamous! i.e. will one male impregnate more than one female? forgive me troubling you, and i dare say i shall have to ask forgiveness again... charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, february [ ]. dear wallace, i much regretted that i was unable to call on you, but after monday i was unable even to leave the house. on monday evening i called on bates, and put a difficulty before him, which he could not answer, and, as on some former similar occasion, his first suggestion was, "you had better ask wallace." my difficulty is, why are caterpillars sometimes so beautifully and artistically coloured? seeing that many are coloured to escape danger, i can hardly attribute their bright colour in other cases to mere physical conditions. bates says the most gaudy caterpillar he ever saw in amazonia (of a sphinx) was conspicuous at the distance of yards, from its black and red colours, whilst feeding on large green leaves. if any one objected to male butterflies having been made beautiful by sexual selection, and asked why should they not have been made beautiful as well as their caterpillars, what would you answer? i could not answer, but should maintain my ground. will you think over this, and some time, either by letter or when we meet, tell me what you think? also i want to know whether your female mimetic butterfly is more beautiful and brighter than the male. when next in london i must get you to show me your kingfishers. my health is a dreadful evil; i failed in half my engagements during this last visit to london. believe me, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, february [ ]. my dear wallace, bates was quite right; you are the man to apply to in a difficulty. i never heard anything more ingenious than your suggestion (the suggestion that conspicuous caterpillars or perfect insects (e.g. white butterflies), which are distasteful to birds, are protected by being easily recognised and avoided. see mr. wallace's 'natural selection,' nd edition, page .), and i hope you may be able to prove it true. that is a splendid fact about the white moths; it warms one's very blood to see a theory thus almost proved to be true. (mr. jenner weir's observations published in the transactions of the entomolog. soc. ( and ) give strong support to the theory in question.) with respect to the beauty of male butterflies, i must as yet think it is due to sexual selection. there is some evidence that dragon-flies are attracted by bright colours; but what leads me to the above belief is, so many male orthoptera and cicadas having musical instruments. this being the case, the analogy of birds makes me believe in sexual selection with respect to colour in insects. i wish i had strength and time to make some of the experiments suggested by you, but i thought butterflies would not pair in confinement. i am sure i have heard of some such difficulty. many years ago i had a dragon-fly painted with gorgeous colours, but i never had an opportunity of fairly trying it. the reason of my being so much interested just at present about sexual selection is, that i have almost resolved to publish a little essay on the origin of mankind, and i still strongly think (though i failed to convince you, and this, to me, is the heaviest blow possible) that sexual selection has been the main agent in forming the races of man. by the way, there is another subject which i shall introduce in my essay, namely, expression of countenance. now, do you happen to know by any odd chance a very good-natured and acute observer in the malay archipelago, who you think would make a few easy observations for me on the expression of the malays when excited by various emotions? for in this case i would send to such person a list of queries. i thank you for your most interesting letter, and remain, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, march [ ]. my dear wallace, i thank you much for your two notes. the case of julia pastrana (a bearded woman having an irregular double set of teeth. 'animals and plants,' volume ii. page .) is a splendid addition to my other cases of correlated teeth and hair, and i will add it in correcting the press of my present volume. pray let me hear in the course of the summer if you get any evidence about the gaudy caterpillars. i should much like to give (or quote if published) this idea of yours, if in any way supported, as suggested by you. it will, however, be a long time hence, for i can see that sexual selection is growing into quite a large subject, which i shall introduce into my essay on man, supposing that i ever publish it. i had intended giving a chapter on man, inasmuch as many call him (not quite truly) an eminently domesticated animal, but i found the subject too large for a chapter. nor shall i be capable of treating the subject well, and my sole reason for taking it up is, that i am pretty well convinced that sexual selection has played an important part in the formation of races, and sexual selection has always been a subject which has interested me much. i have been very glad to see your impression from memory on the expression of malays. i fully agree with you that the subject is in no way an important one; it is simply a "hobby-horse" with me, about twenty-seven years old; and after thinking that i would write an essay on man, it flashed on me that i could work in some "supplemental remarks on expression." after the horrid, tedious, dull work of my present huge, and i fear unreadable, book ['the variation of animals and plants'], i thought i would amuse myself with my hobby-horse. the subject is, i think, more curious and more amenable to scientific treatment than you seem willing to allow. i want, anyhow, to upset sir c. bell's view, given in his most interesting work, 'the anatomy of expression,' that certain muscles have been given to man solely that he may reveal to other men his feelings. i want to try and show how expressions have arisen. that is a good suggestion about newspapers, but my experience tells me that private applications are generally most fruitful. i will, however, see if i can get the queries inserted in some indian paper. i do not know the names or addresses of any other papers. ... my two female amanuenses are busy with friends, and i fear this scrawl will give you much trouble to read. with many thanks, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. [the following letter may be worth giving, as an example of his sources of information, and as showing what were the thoughts at this time occupying him:] charles darwin to f. muller. down, february [ ]. ... many thanks for all the curious facts about the unequal number of the sexes in crustacea, but the more i investigate this subject the deeper i sink in doubt and difficulty. thanks also for the confirmation of the rivalry of cicadae. i have often reflected with surprise on the diversity of the means for producing music with insects, and still more with birds. we thus get a high idea of the importance of song in the animal kingdom. please to tell me where i can find any account of the auditory organs in the orthoptera. your facts are quite new to me. scudder has described an insect in the devonian strata, furnished with a stridulating apparatus. i believe he is to be trusted, and, if so, the apparatus is of astonishing antiquity. after reading landois's paper i have been working at the stridulating organ in the lamellicorn beetles, in expectation of finding it sexual; but i have only found it as yet in two cases, and in these it was equally developed in both sexes. i wish you would look at any of your common lamellicorns, and take hold of both males and females, and observe whether they make the squeaking or grating noise equally. if they do not, you could, perhaps, send me a male and female in a light little box. how curious it is that there should be a special organ for an object apparently so unimportant as squeaking. here is another point; have you any toucans? if so, ask any trustworthy hunter whether the beaks of the males, or of both sexes, are more brightly coloured during the breeding season than at other times of the year... heaven knows whether i shall ever live to make use of half the valuable facts which you have communicated to me! your paper on balanus armatus, translated by mr. dallas, has just appeared in our 'annals and magazine of natural history,' and i have read it with the greatest interest. i never thought that i should live to hear of a hybrid balanus! i am very glad that you have seen the cement tubes; they appear to me extremely curious, and, as far as i know, you are the first man who has verified my observations on this point. with most cordial thanks for all your kindness, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to a. de candolle. down, july , . my dear sir, i return you my sincere thanks for your long letter, which i consider a great compliment, and which is quite full of most interesting facts and views. your references and remarks will be of great use should a new edition of my book ('variation of animals and plants.') be demanded, but this is hardly probable, for the whole edition was sold within the first week, and another large edition immediately reprinted, which i should think would supply the demand for ever. you ask me when i shall publish on the 'variation of species in a state of nature.' i have had the ms. for another volume almost ready during several years, but i was so much fatigued by my last book that i determined to amuse myself by publishing a short essay on the 'descent of man.' i was partly led to do this by having been taunted that i concealed my views, but chiefly from the interest which i had long taken in the subject. now this essay has branched out into some collateral subjects, and i suppose will take me more than a year to complete. i shall then begin on 'species,' but my health makes me a very slow workman. i hope that you will excuse these details, which i have given to show that you will have plenty of time to publish your views first, which will be a great advantage to me. of all the curious facts which you mention in your letter, i think that of the strong inheritance of the scalp-muscles has interested me most. i presume that you would not object to my giving this very curious case on your authority. as i believe all anatomists look at the scalp-muscles as a remnant of the panniculus carnosus which is common to all the lower quadrupeds, i should look at the unusual development and inheritance of these muscles as probably a case of reversion. your observation on so many remarkable men in noble families having been illegitimate is extremely curious; and should i ever meet any one capable of writing an essay on this subject, i will mention your remarks as a good suggestion. dr. hooker has several times remarked to me that morals and politics would be very interesting if discussed like any branch of natural history, and this is nearly to the same effect with your remarks... charles darwin to l. agassiz. down, august , . dear sir, i thank you cordially for your very kind letter. i certainly thought that you had formed so low an opinion of my scientific work that it might have appeared indelicate in me to have asked for information from you, but it never occurred to me that my letter would have been shown to you. i have never for a moment doubted your kindness and generosity, and i hope you will not think it presumption in me to say, that when we met, many years ago, at the british association at southampton, i felt for you the warmest admiration. your information on the amazonian fishes has interested me extremely, and tells me exactly what i wanted to know. i was aware, through notes given me by dr. gunther, that many fishes differed sexually in colour and other characters, but i was particularly anxious to learn how far this was the case with those fishes in which the male, differently from what occurs with most birds, takes the largest share in the care of the ova and young. your letter has not only interested me much, but has greatly gratified me in other respects, and i return you my sincere thanks for your kindness. pray believe me, my dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, sunday, august [ ]. my dear old friend, i have received your note. i can hardly say how pleased i have been at the success of your address (sir joseph hooker was president of the british association at the norwich meeting in .), and of the whole meeting. i have seen the "times", "telegraph", "spectator", and "athenaeum", and have heard of other favourable newspapers, and have ordered a bundle. there is a "chorus of praise." the "times" reported miserably, i.e. as far as errata was concerned; but i was very glad at the leader, for i thought the way you brought in the megalithic monuments most happy. (the british association was desirous of interesting the government in certain modern cromlech builders, the khasia race of east bengal, in order that their megalithic monuments might be efficiently described.) i particularly admired tyndall's little speech (professor tyndall was president of section a.)... the "spectator" pitches a little into you about theology, in accordance with its usual spirit... your great success has rejoiced my heart. i have just carefully read the whole address in the "athenaeum"; and though, as you know, i liked it very much when you read it to me, yet, as i was trying all the time to find fault, i missed to a certain extent the effect as a whole; and this now appears to me most striking and excellent. how you must rejoice at all your bothering labour and anxiety having had so grand an end. i must say a word about myself; never has such a eulogium been passed on me, and it makes me very proud. i cannot get over my amazement at what you say about my botanical work. by jove, as far as my memory goes, you have strengthened instead of weakened some of the expressions. what is far more important than anything personal, is the conviction which i feel that you will have immensely advanced the belief in the evolution of species. this will follow from the publicity of the occasion, your position, so responsible, as president, and your own high reputation. it will make a great step in public opinion, i feel sure, and i had not thought of this before. the "athenaeum" takes your snubbing (sir joseph hooker made some reference to the review of 'animals and plants' in the "athenaeum" of february , .) with the utmost mildness. i certainly do rejoice over the snubbing, and hope [the reviewer] will feel it a little. whenever you have spare time to write again, tell me whether any astronomers (in discussing the astronomer's objection to evolution, namely that our globe has not existed for a long enough period to give time for the assumed transmutation of living beings, hooker challenged whewell's dictum that, astronomy is the queen of sciences--the only perfect science.) took your remarks in ill part; as they now stand they do not seem at all too harsh and presumptuous. many of your sentences strike me as extremely felicitous and eloquent. that of lyell's "under-pinning" (after a eulogium on sir charles lyell's heroic renunciation of his old views in accepting evolution, sir j.d. hooker continued, "well may he be proud of a superstructure, raised on the foundations of an insecure doctrine, when he finds that he can underpin it and substitute a new foundation; and after all is finished, survey his edifice, not only more secure but more harmonious in its proportion than it was before."), is capital. tell me, was lyell pleased? i am so glad that you remembered my old dedication. (the 'naturalist's voyage' was dedicated to lyell.) was wallace pleased? how about photographs? can you spare time for a line to our dear mrs. cameron? she came to see us off, and loaded us with presents of photographs, and erasmus called after her, "mrs. cameron, there are six people in this house all in love with you." when i paid her, she cried out, "oh what a lot of money!" and ran to boast to her husband. i must not write any more, though i am in tremendous spirits at your brilliant success. yours ever affectionately, c. darwin. [in the "athenaeum" of november , , appeared an article which was in fact a reply to sir joseph hooker's remarks at norwich. he seems to have consulted my father as to the wisdom of answering the article. my father wrote on september : "in my opinion dr. joseph dalton hooker need take no notice of the attack in the "athenaeum" in reference to mr. charles darwin. what an ass the man is to think he cuts one to the quick by giving one's christian name in full. how transparently false is the statement that my sole groundwork is from pigeons, because i state i have worked them out more fully than other beings! he muddles together two books of flourens." the following letter refers to a paper ('transactions of the ottawa academy of natural sciences,' , by john d. caton, late chief justice of illinois.) by judge caton, of which my father often spoke with admiration:] charles darwin to john d. caton. down, september , . dear sir, i beg leave to thank you very sincerely for your kindness in sending me, through mr. walsh, your admirable paper on american deer. it is quite full of most interesting observations, stated with the greatest clearness. i have seldom read a paper with more interest, for it abounds with facts of direct use for my work. many of them consist of little points which hardly any one besides yourself has observed, or perceived the importance of recording. i would instance the age at which the horns are developed (a point on which i have lately been in vain searching for information), the rudiment of horns in the female elk, and especially the different nature of the plants devoured by the deer and elk, and several other points. with cordial thanks for the pleasure and instruction which you have afforded me, and with high respect for your power of observation, i beg leave to remain, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged, charles darwin. [the following extract from a letter (september , ) to the marquis de saporta, the eminent palaeo-botanist, refers to the growth of evolutionary views in france (in he was pleased at being asked to authorise a french translation of his 'naturalist's voyage.':-- "as i have formerly read with great interest many of your papers on fossil plants, you may believe with what high satisfaction i hear that you are a believer in the gradual evolution of species. i had supposed that my book on the 'origin of species' had made very little impression in france, and therefore it delights me to hear a different statement from you. all the great authorities of the institute seem firmly resolved to believe in the immutability of species, and this has always astonished me... almost the one exception, as far as i know, is m. gaudry, and i think he will be soon one of the chief leaders in zoological palaeontology in europe; and now i am delighted to hear that in the sister department of botany you take nearly the same view."] charles darwin to e. haeckel. down, november [ ]. my dear haeckel, i must write to you again, for two reasons. firstly, to thank you for your letter about your baby, which has quite charmed both me and my wife; i heartily congratulate you on its birth. i remember being surprised in my own case how soon the paternal instincts became developed, and in you they seem to be unusually strong,... i hope the large blue eyes and the principles of inheritance will make your child as good a naturalist as you are; but, judging from my own experience, you will be astonished to find how the whole mental disposition of your children changes with advancing years. a young child, and the same when nearly grown, sometimes differ almost as much as do a caterpillar and butterfly. the second point is to congratulate you on the projected translation of your great work ('generelle morphologie,' . no english translation of this book has appeared.), about which i heard from huxley last sunday. i am heartily glad of it, but how it has been brought about, i know not, for a friend who supported the supposed translation at norwich, told me he thought there would be no chance of it. huxley tells me that you consent to omit and shorten some parts, and i am confident that this is very wise. as i know your object is to instruct the public, you will assuredly thus get many more readers in england. indeed, i believe that almost every book would be improved by condensation. i have been reading a good deal of your last book ('die naturliche schopfungs-geschichte,' . it was translated and published in , under the title, 'the history of creation.'), and the style is beautifully clear and easy to me; but why it should differ so much in this respect from your great work i cannot imagine. i have not yet read the first part, but began with the chapter on lyell and myself, which you will easily believe pleased me very much. i think lyell, who was apparently much pleased by your sending him a copy, is also much gratified by this chapter. (see lyell's interesting letter to haeckel. 'life of sir c. lyell,' ii. page .) your chapters on the affinities and genealogy of the animal kingdom strike me as admirable and full of original thought. your boldness, however, sometimes makes me tremble, but as huxley remarked, some one must be bold enough to make a beginning in drawing up tables of descent. although you fully admit the imperfection of the geological record, yet huxley agreed with me in thinking that you are sometimes rather rash in venturing to say at what periods the several groups first appeared. i have this advantage over you, that i remember how wonderfully different any statement on this subject made years ago, would have been to what would now be the case, and i expect the next years will make quite as great a difference. reflect on the monocotyledonous plant just discovered in the primordial formation in sweden. i repeat how glad i am at the prospect of the translation, for i fully believe that this work and all your works will have a great influence in the advancement of science. believe me, my dear haeckel, your sincere friend, charles darwin. [it was in november of this year that he sat for the bust by mr. woolner: he wrote:-- "i should have written long ago, but i have been pestered with stupid letters, and am undergoing the purgatory of sitting for hours to woolner, who, however, is wonderfully pleasant, and lightens as much as man can, the penance; as far as i can judge, it will make a fine bust." if i may criticise the work of so eminent a sculptor as mr. woolner, i should say that the point in which the bust fails somewhat as a portrait, is that it has a certain air, almost of pomposity, which seems to me foreign to my father's expression.] . [at the beginning of the year he was at work in preparing the fifth edition of the 'origin.' this work was begun on the day after christmas, , and was continued for "forty-six days," as he notes in his diary, i.e. until february th, . he then, february th, returned to sexual selection, and continued at this subject (excepting for ten days given up to orchids, and a week in london), until june th, when he went with his family to north wales, where he remained about seven weeks, returning to down on july st. caerdeon, the house where he stayed, is built on the north shore of the beautiful barmouth estuary, and is pleasantly placed, in being close to wild hill country behind, as well as to the picturesque wooded "hummocks," between the steeper hills and the river. my father was ill and somewhat depressed throughout this visit, and i think felt saddened at being imprisoned by his want of strength, and unable even to reach the hills over which he had once wandered for days together. he wrote from caerdeon to sir j.d. hooker (june nd):-- "we have been here for ten days, how i wish it was possible for you to pay us a visit here; we have a beautiful house with a terraced garden, and a really magnificent view of cader, right opposite. old cader is a grand fellow, and shows himself off superbly with every changing light. we remain here till the end of july, when the h. wedgwoods have the house. i have been as yet in a very poor way; it seems as soon as the stimulus of mental work stops, my whole strength gives way. as yet i have hardly crawled half a mile from the house, and then have been fearfully fatigued. it is enough to make one wish oneself quiet in a comfortable tomb." with regard to the fifth edition of the 'origin,' he wrote to mr. wallace (january , ):-- "i have been interrupted in my regular work in preparing a new edition of the 'origin,' which has cost me much labour, and which i hope i have considerably improved in two or three important points. i always thought individual differences more important than single variations, but now i have come to the conclusion that they are of paramount importance, and in this i believe i agree with you. fleeming jenkin's arguments have convinced me." this somewhat obscure sentence was explained, february , in another letter to mr. wallace:-- "i must have expressed myself atrociously; i meant to say exactly the reverse of what you have understood. f. jenkin argued in the 'north british review' against single variations ever being perpetuated, and has convinced me, though not in quite so broad a manner as here put. i always thought individual differences more important; but i was blind and thought that single variations might be preserved much oftener than i now see is possible or probable. i mentioned this in my former note merely because i believed that you had come to a similar conclusion, and i like much to be in accord with you. i believe i was mainly deceived by single variations offering such simple illustrations, as when man selects." the late mr. fleeming jenkin's review, on the 'origin of species,' was published in the 'north british review' for june . it is not a little remarkable that the criticisms, which my father, as i believe, felt to be the most valuable ever made on his views should have come, not from a professed naturalist but from a professor of engineering. it is impossible to give in a short compass an account of fleeming jenkin's argument. my father's copy of the paper (ripped out of the volume as usual, and tied with a bit of string) is annotated in pencil in many places. i may quote one passage opposite which my father has written "good sneers"--but it should be remembered that he used the word "sneer" in rather a special sense, not as necessarily implying a feeling of bitterness in the critic, but rather in the sense of "banter." speaking of the 'true believer,' fleeming jenkin says, page :-- "he can invent trains of ancestors of whose existence there is no evidence; he can marshal hosts of equally imaginary foes; he can call up continents, floods, and peculiar atmospheres; he can dry up oceans, split islands, and parcel out eternity at will; surely with these advantages he must be a dull fellow if he cannot scheme some series of animals and circumstances explaining our assumed difficulty quite naturally. feeling the difficulty of dealing with adversaries who command so huge a domain of fancy, we will abandon these arguments, and trust to those which at least cannot be assailed by mere efforts of imagination." in the fifth edition of the 'origin,' my father altered a passage in the historical sketch (fourth edition page xviii.). he thus practically gave up the difficult task of understanding whether or no sir r. owen claims to have discovered the principle of natural selection. adding, "as far as the mere enunciation of the principle of natural selection is concerned, it is quite immaterial whether or not professor owen preceded me, for both of us... were long ago preceded by dr. wells and mr. matthew." a somewhat severe critique on the fifth edition, by mr. john robertson, appeared in the "athenaeum", august , . the writer comments with some little bitterness on the success of the 'origin:' "attention is not acceptance. many editions do not mean real success. the book has sold; the guess has been talked over; and the circulation and discussion sum up the significance of the editions." mr. robertson makes the true, but misleading statement: "mr. darwin prefaces his fifth english edition with an essay, which he calls 'an historical sketch,' etc." as a matter of fact the sketch appeared in the third edition in . mr. robertson goes on to say that the sketch ought to be called a collection of extracts anticipatory or corroborative of the hypothesis of natural selection. "for no account is given of any hostile opinions. the fact is very significant. this historical sketch thus resembles the histories of the reign of louis xviii., published after the restoration, from which the republic and the empire, robespierre and buonaparte were omitted." the following letter to prof. victor carus gives an idea of the character of the new edition of the 'origin:'] charles darwin to victor carus. down, may , . ... i have gone very carefully through the whole, trying to make some parts clearer, and adding a few discussions and facts of some importance. the new edition is only two pages at the end longer than the old; though in one part nine pages in advance, for i have condensed several parts and omitted some passages. the translation i fear will cause you a great deal of trouble; the alterations took me six weeks, besides correcting the press; you ought to make a special agreement with m. koch [the publisher]. many of the corrections are only a few words, but they have been made from the evidence on various points appearing to have become a little stronger or weaker. thus i have been led to place somewhat more value on the definite and direct action of external conditions; to think the lapse of time, as measured by years, not quite so great as most geologists have thought; and to infer that single variations are of even less importance, in comparison with individual differences, than i formerly thought. i mention these points because i have been thus led to alter in many places a few words; and unless you go through the whole new edition, one part will not agree with another, which would be a great blemish... [the desire that his views might spread in france was always strong with my father, and he was therefore justly annoyed to find that in the editor of the first french edition had brought out a third edition without consulting the author. he was accordingly glad to enter into an arrangement for a french translation of the fifth edition; this was undertaken by m. reinwald, with whom he continued to have pleasant relations as the publisher of many of his books into french. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "i must enjoy myself and tell you about mdlle. c. royer, who translated the 'origin' into french, and for whose second edition i took infinite trouble. she has now just brought out a third edition without informing me, so that all the corrections, etc., in the fourth and fifth english editions are lost. besides her enormously long preface to the first edition, she has added a second preface abusing me like a pick-pocket for pangenesis, which of course has no relation to the 'origin.' so i wrote to paris; and reinwald agrees to bring out at once a new translation from the fifth english edition, in competition with her third edition... this fact shows that "evolution of species" must at last be spreading in france." with reference to the spread of evolution among the orthodox, the following letter is of some interest. in march he received, from the author, a copy of a lecture by rev. t.r.r. stebbing, given before the torquay natural history society, february , , bearing the title "darwinism." my father wrote to mr. stebbing:] dear sir, i am very much obliged to you for your kindness in sending me your spirited and interesting lecture; if a layman had delivered the same address, he would have done good service in spreading what, as i hope and believe, is to a large extent the truth; but a clergyman in delivering such an address does, as it appears to me, much more good by his power to shake ignorant prejudices, and by setting, if i may be permitted to say so, an admirable example of liberality. with sincere respect, i beg leave to remain, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged, charles darwin. [the references to the subject of expression in the following letter are explained by the fact that my father's original intention was to give his essay on this subject as a chapter in the 'descent of man,' which in its turn grew, as we have seen, out of a proposed chapter in 'animals and plants:'] charles darwin to f. muller. down, february [ ?]. ... although you have aided me to so great an extent in many ways, i am going to beg for any information on two other subjects. i am preparing a discussion on "sexual selection," and i want much to know how low down in the animal scale sexual selection of a particular kind extends. do you know of any lowly organised animals, in which the sexes are separated, and in which the male differs from the female in arms of offence, like the horns and tusks of male mammals, or in gaudy plumage and ornaments, as with birds and butterflies? i do not refer to secondary sexual characters, by which the male is able to discover the female, like the plumed antennae of moths, or by which the male is enabled to seize the female, like the curious pincers described by you in some of the lower crustaceans. but what i want to know is, how low in the scale sexual differences occur which require some degree of self-consciousness in the males, as weapons by which they fight for the female, or ornaments which attract the opposite sex. any differences between males and females which follow different habits of life would have to be excluded. i think you will easily see what i wish to learn. a priori, it would never have been anticipated that insects would have been attracted by the beautiful colouring of the opposite sex, or by the sounds emitted by the various musical instruments of the male orthoptera. i know no one so likely to answer this question as yourself, and should be grateful for any information, however small. my second subject refers to expression of countenance, to which i have long attended, and on which i feel a keen interest; but to which, unfortunately, i did not attend when i had the opportunity of observing various races of man. it has occurred to me that you might, without much trouble, make a few observations for me, in the course of some months, on negroes, or possibly on native south americans, though i care most about negroes; accordingly i enclose some questions as a guide, and if you could answer me even one or two i should feel truly obliged. i am thinking of writing a little essay on the origin of mankind, as i have been taunted with concealing my opinions, and i should do this immediately after the completion of my present book. in this case i should add a chapter on the cause or meaning of expression... [the remaining letters of this year deal chiefly with the books, reviews, etc., which interested him.] charles darwin to h. thiel. down, february , . dear sir, on my return home after a short absence, i found your very courteous note, and the pamphlet ('ueber einige formen der landwirthschaftlichen genossenschaften.' by dr. h. thiel, then of the agricultural station at poppelsdorf.), and i hasten to thank you for both, and for the very honourable mention which you make of my name. you will readily believe how much interested i am in observing that you apply to moral and social questions analogous views to those which i have used in regard to the modification of species. it did not occur to me formerly that my views could be extended to such widely different, and most important, subjects. with much respect, i beg leave to remain, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged, charles darwin. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, march [ ]. my dear huxley, thanks for your 'address.' (in his 'anniversary address' to the geological society, , mr. huxley criticised sir william thomson's paper ('trans. geol. soc., glasgow,' volume iii.) "on geological time.") people complain of the unequal distribution of wealth, but it is a much greater shame and injustice that any one man should have the power to write so many brilliant essays as you have lately done. there is no one who writes like you... if i were in your shoes, i should tremble for my life. i agree with all you say, except that i must think that you draw too great a distinction between the evolutionists and the uniformitarians. i find that the few sentences which i have sent to press in the 'origin' about the age of the world will do fairly well... ever yours, c. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, march [ ]. my dear wallace, i have finished your book ('the malay archipelago,' etc., .); it seems to me excellent, and at the same time most pleasant to read. that you ever returned alive is wonderful after all your risks from illness and sea voyages, especially that most interesting one to waigiou and back. of all the impressions which i have received from your book, the strongest is that your perseverance in the cause of science was heroic. your descriptions of catching the splendid butterflies have made me quite envious, and at the same time have made me feel almost young again, so vividly have they brought before my mind old days when i collected, though i never made such captures as yours. certainly collecting is the best sport in the world. i shall be astonished if your book has not a great success; and your splendid generalizations on geographical distribution, with which i am familiar from your papers, will be new to most of your readers. i think i enjoyed most the timor case, as it is best demonstrated; but perhaps celebes is really the most valuable. i should prefer looking at the whole asiatic continent as having formerly been more african in its fauna, than admitting the former existence of a continent across the indian ocean... [the following letter refers to mr. wallace's article in the april number of the 'quarterly review' (my father wrote to mr. murray: "the article by wallace is inimitably good, and it is a great triumph that such an article should appear in the 'quarterly,' and will make the bishop of oxford and --gnash their teeth."), , which to a large extent deals with the tenth edition of sir charles lyell's 'principles,' published in and . the review contains a striking passage on sir charles lyell's confession of evolutionary faith in the tenth edition of his 'principles,' which is worth quoting: "the history of science hardly presents so striking an instance of youthfulness of mind in advanced life as is shown by this abandonment of opinions so long held and so powerfully advocated; and if we bear in mind the extreme caution, combined with the ardent love of truth which characterise every work which our author has produced, we shall be convinced that so great a change was not decided on without long and anxious deliberation, and that the views now adopted must indeed be supported by arguments of overwhelming force. if for no other reason than that sir charles lyell in his tenth edition has adopted it, the theory of mr. darwin deserves an attentive and respectful consideration from every earnest seeker after truth."] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, april , . my dear wallace, i have been wonderfully interested by your article, and i should think lyell will be much gratified by it. i declare if i had been editor, and had the power of directing you, i should have selected for discussion the very points which you have chosen. i have often said to younger geologists (for i began in the year ) that they did not know what a revolution lyell had effected; nevertheless, your extracts from cuvier have quite astonished me. though not able really to judge, i am inclined to put more confidence in croll than you seem to do; but i have been much struck by many of your remarks on degradation. thomson's views of the recent age of the world have been for some time one of my sorest troubles, and so i have been glad to read what you say. your exposition of natural selection seems to me inimitably good; there never lived a better expounder than you. i was also much pleased at your discussing the difference between our views and lamarck's. one sometimes sees the odious expression, "justice to myself compels me to say," etc., but you are the only man i ever heard of who persistently does himself an injustice, and never demands justice. indeed, you ought in the review to have alluded to your paper in the 'linnean journal,' and i feel sure all our friends will agree in this. but you cannot "burke" yourself, however much you may try, as may be seen in half the articles which appear. i was asked but the other day by a german professor for your paper, which i sent him. altogether i look at your article as appearing in the 'quarterly' as an immense triumph for our cause. i presume that your remarks on man are those to which you alluded in your note. if you had not told me i should have thought that they had been added by some one else. as you expected, i differ grievously from you, and i am very sorry for it. i can see no necessity for calling in an additional and proximate cause in regard to man. (mr. wallace points out that any one acquainted merely with the "unaided productions of nature," might reasonably doubt whether a dray-horse, for example, could have been developed by the power of man directing the "action of the laws of variation, multiplication, and survival, for his own purpose. we know, however, that this has been done, and we must therefore admit the possibility that in the development of the human race, a higher intelligence has guided the same laws for nobler ends.") but the subject is too long for a letter. i have been particularly glad to read your discussion because i am now writing and thinking much about man. i hope that your malay book sells well; i was extremely pleased with the article in the 'quarterly journal of science,' inasmuch as it is thoroughly appreciative of your work: alas! you will probably agree with what the writer says about the uses of the bamboo. i hear that there is also a good article in the "saturday review", but have heard nothing more about it. believe me my dear wallace, yours ever sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to c. lyell. down, may [ ]. my dear lyell, i have been applied to for some photographs (carte de visite) to be copied to ornament the diplomas of honorary members of a new society in servia! will you give me one for this purpose? i possess only a full-length one of you in my own album, and the face is too small, i think, to be copied. i hope that you get on well with your work, and have satisfied yourself on the difficult point of glacier lakes. thank heaven, i have finished correcting the new edition of the 'origin,' and am at my old work of sexual selection. wallace's article struck me as admirable; how well he brought out the revolution which you effected some years ago. i thought i had fully appreciated the revolution, but i was astounded at the extracts from cuvier. what a good sketch of natural selection! but i was dreadfully disappointed about man, it seems to me incredibly strange...; and had i not known to the contrary, would have sworn it had been inserted by some other hand. but i believe that you will not agree quite in all this. my dear lyell, ever yours sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.l.a. de quatrefages. down, may [ or ]. dear sir, i have received and read your volume (essays reprinted from the 'revue des deux mondes,' under the title 'histoire naturelle generale,' etc., .), and am much obliged for your present. the whole strikes me as a wonderfully clear and able discussion, and i was much interested by it to the last page. it is impossible that any account of my views could be fairer, or, as far as space permitted, fuller, than that which you have given. the way in which you repeatedly mention my name is most gratifying to me. when i had finished the second part, i thought that you had stated the case so favourably that you would make more converts on my side than on your own side. on reading the subsequent parts i had to change my sanguine view. in these latter parts many of your strictures are severe enough, but all are given with perfect courtesy and fairness. i can truly say i would rather be criticised by you in this manner than praised by many others. i agree with some of your criticisms, but differ entirely from the remainder; but i will not trouble you with any remarks. i may, however, say, that you must have been deceived by the french translation, as you infer that i believe that the parus and the nuthatch (or sitta) are related by direct filiation. i wished only to show by an imaginary illustration, how either instincts or structures might first change. if you had seen canis magellanicus alive you would have perceived how foxlike its appearance is, or if you had heard its voice, i think that you would never have hazarded the idea that it was a domestic dog run wild; but this does not much concern me. it is curious how nationality influences opinion; a week hardly passes without my hearing of some naturalist in germany who supports my views, and often puts an exaggerated value on my works; whilst in france i have not heard of a single zoologist, except m. gaudry (and he only partially), who supports my views. but i must have a good many readers as my books are translated, and i must hope, notwithstanding your strictures, that i may influence some embryo naturalists in france. you frequently speak of my good faith, and no compliment can be more delightful to me, but i may return you the compliment with interest, for every word which you write bears the stamp of your cordial love for the truth. believe me, dear sir, with sincere respect, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, october [ ]. my dear huxley, i have been delighted to see your review of haeckel (a review of haeckel's 'schopfungs-geschichte.' the "academy", . reprinted in 'critiques and addresses,' page .), and as usual you pile honours high on my head. but i write now (requiring no answer) to groan a little over what you have said about rudimentary organs. (in discussing teleology and haeckel's "dysteleology," prof. huxley says:--"such cases as the existence of lateral rudiments of toes, in the foot of a horse, place us in a dilemma. for either these rudiments are of no use to the animals, in which case... they surely ought to have disappeared; or they are of some use to the animal, in which case they are of no use as arguments against teleology."--('critiques and addresses,' page .) many heretics will take advantage of what you have said. i cannot but think that the explanation given at page of the last edition of the 'origin' of the long retention of rudimentary organs and of their greater relative size during early life, is satisfactory. their final and complete abortion seems to me a much greater difficulty. do look in my 'variations under domestication,' volume ii. page , at what pangenesis suggests on this head, though i did not dare to put in the 'origin.' the passage bears also a little on the struggle between the molecules or gemmules. ("it is a probable hypothesis, that what the world is to organisms in general, each organism is to the molecules of which it is composed. multitudes of these having diverse tendencies, are competing with one another for opportunity to exist and multiply; and the organism, as a whole, is as much the product of the molecules which are victorious as the fauna, or flora, of a country is the product of the victorious organic beings in it."--('critiques and addresses,' page .) there is likewise a word or two indirectly bearing on this subject at pages - . it won't take you five minutes, so do look at these passages. i am very glad that you have been bold enough to give your idea about natural selection amongst the molecules, though i can not quite follow you. and beginning of . [my father wrote in his diary:--"the whole of this year [ ] at work on the 'descent of man.'... went to press august , ." the letters are again of miscellaneous interest, dealing, not only with his work, but also serving to indicate the course of his reading.] charles darwin to e. ray lankester. down, march [ ]. my dear sir, i do not know whether you will consider me a very troublesome man, but i have just finished your book ('comparative longevity.'), and can not resist telling you how the whole has much interested me. no doubt, as you say, there must be much speculation on such a subject, and certain results can not be reached; but all your views are highly suggestive, and to my mind that is high praise. i have been all the more interested as i am now writing on closely allied though not quite identical points. i was pleased to see you refer to my much despised child, 'pangenesis,' who i think will some day, under some better nurse, turn out a fine stripling. it has also pleased me to see how thoroughly you appreciate (and i do not think that this is general with the men of science) h. spencer; i suspect that hereafter he will be looked at as by far the greatest living philosopher in england; perhaps equal to any that have lived. but i have no business to trouble you with my notions. with sincere thanks for the interest which your work has given me, i remain, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. [the next letter refers to mr. wallace's 'natural selection' ( ), a collection of essays reprinted with certain alterations of which a list is given in the volume:] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, april [ ]. my dear wallace, i have just received your book, and read the preface. there never has been passed on me, or indeed on any one, a higher eulogium than yours. i wish that i fully deserved it. your modesty and candour are very far from new to me. i hope it is a satisfaction to you to reflect--and very few things in my life have been more satisfactory to me--that we have never felt any jealousy towards each other, though in one sense rivals. i believe that i can say this of myself with truth, and i am absolutely sure that it is true of you. you have been a good christian to give a list of your additions, for i want much to read them, and i should hardly have had time just at present to have gone through all your articles. of course i shall immediately read those that are new or greatly altered, and i will endeavour to be as honest as can reasonably be expected. your book looks remarkably well got up. believe me, my dear wallace, to remain, yours very cordially, ch. darwin. [here follow one or two letters indicating the progress of the 'descent of man;' the woodcuts referred to were being prepared for that work:] charles darwin to a. gunther. (dr. gunther, keeper of zoology in the british museum.) march , [ ?]. dear gunther, as i do not know mr. ford's address, will you hand him this note, which is written solely to express my unbounded admiration of the woodcuts. i fairly gloat over them. the only evil is that they will make all the other woodcuts look very poor! they are all excellent, and for the feathers i declare i think it the most wonderful woodcut i ever saw; i can not help touching it to make sure that it is smooth. how i wish to see the two other, and even more important, ones of the feathers, and the four [of] reptiles, etc. once again accept my very sincere thanks for all your kindness. i am greatly indebted to mr. ford. engravings have always hitherto been my greatest misery, and now they are a real pleasure to me. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i thought i should have been in press by this time, but my subject has branched off into sub-branches, which have cost me infinite time, and heaven knows when i shall have all my ms. ready, but i am never idle. charles darwin to a. gunther. may [ ]. my dear dr. gunther, sincere thanks. your answers are wonderfully clear and complete. i have some analogous questions on reptiles, etc., which i will send in a few days, and then i think i shall cause no more trouble. i will get the books you refer me to. the case of the solenostoma (in most of the lophobranchii the male has a marsupial sack in which the eggs are hatched, and in these species the male is slightly brighter coloured than the female. but in solenostoma the female is the hatcher, and is also the more brightly coloured.--'descent of man,' ii. .) is magnificent, so exactly analogous to that of those birds in which the female is the more gay, but ten times better for me, as she is the incubator. as i crawl on with the successive classes i am astonished to find how similar the rules are about the nuptial or "wedding dress" of all animals. the subject has begun to interest me in an extraordinary degree; but i must try not to fall into my common error of being too speculative. but a drunkard might as well say he would drink a little and not too much! my essay, as far as fishes, batrachians and reptiles are concerned, will be in fact yours, only written by me. with hearty thanks. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. [the following letter is of interest, as showing the excessive care and pains which my father took in forming his opinion on a difficult point:] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, september [undated]. my dear wallace, i am very much obliged for all your trouble in writing me your long letter, which i will keep by me and ponder over. to answer it would require at least folio pages! if you could see how often i have re-written some pages you would know how anxious i am to arrive as near as i can to the truth. i lay great stress on what i know takes place under domestication; i think we start with different fundamental notions on inheritance. i find it is most difficult, but not i think impossible, to see how, for instance, a few red feathers appearing on the head of a male bird, and which are at first transmitted to both sexes, could come to be transmitted to males alone. it is not enough that females should be produced from the males with red feathers, which should be destitute of red feathers; but these females must have a latent tendency to produce such feathers, otherwise they would cause deterioration in the red head-feathers of their male offspring. such latent tendency would be shown by their producing the red feathers when old, or diseased in their ovaria. but i have no difficulty in making the whole head red if the few red feathers in the male from the first tended to be sexually transmitted. i am quite willing to admit that the female may have been modified, either at the same time or subsequently, for protection by the accumulation of variations limited in their transmission to the female sex. i owe to your writings the consideration of this latter point. but i cannot yet persuade myself that females alone have often been modified for protection. should you grudge the trouble briefly to tell me whether you believe that the plainer head and less bright colours of a female chaffinch, the less red on the head and less clean colours of the female goldfinch, the much less red on the breast of the female bull-finch, the paler crest of golden-crested wren, etc., have been acquired by them for protection. i cannot think so any more than i can that the considerable differences between female and male house sparrow, or much greater brightness of the male parus coeruleus (both of which build under cover) than of the female parus, are related to protection. i even mis-doubt much whether the less blackness of the female blackbird is for protection. again, can you give me reasons for believing that the moderate differences between the female pheasant, the female gallus bankiva, the female black grouse, the pea-hen, the female partridge, [and their respective males,] have all special references to protection under slightly different conditions? i, of course, admit that they are all protected by dull colours, derived, as i think, from some dull-ground progenitor; and i account partly for their difference by partial transference of colour from the male and by other means too long to specify; but i earnestly wish to see reason to believe that each is specially adapted for concealment to its environment. i grieve to differ from you, and it actually terrifies me and makes me constantly distrust myself. i fear we shall never quite understand each other. i value the cases of bright-coloured, incubating male fishes, and brilliant female butterflies, solely as showing that one sex may be made brilliant without any necessary transference of beauty to the other sex; for in these cases i cannot suppose that beauty in the other sex was checked by selection. i fear this letter will trouble you to read it. a very short answer about your belief in regard to the female finches and gallinaceae would suffice. believe me, my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may [ ]. ... last friday we all went to the bull hotel at cambridge to see the boys, and for a little rest and enjoyment. the backs of the colleges are simply paradisaical. on monday i saw sedgwick, who was most cordial and kind; in the morning i thought his brain was enfeebled; in the evening he was brilliant and quite himself. his affection and kindness charmed us all. my visit to him was in one way unfortunate; for after a long sit he proposed to take me to the museum, and i could not refuse, and in consequence he utterly prostrated me; so that we left cambridge next morning, and i have not recovered the exhaustion yet. is it not humiliating to be thus killed by a man of eighty-six, who evidently never dreamed that he was killing me? as he said to me, "oh, i consider you as a mere baby to me!" i saw newton several times, and several nice friends of f.'s. but cambridge without dear henslow was not itself; i tried to get to the two old houses, but it was too far for me... charles darwin to b.j. sulivan. (admiral sir james sulivan was a lieutenant on board the "beagle".) down, june [ ]. my dear sulivan, it was very good of you to write to me so long a letter, telling me much about yourself and your children, which i was extremely glad to hear. think what a benighted wretch i am, seeing no one and reading but little in the newspapers, for i did not know (until seeing the paper of your natural history society) that you were a k.c.b. most heartily glad i am that the government have at last appreciated your most just claim for this high distinction. on the other hand, i am sorry to hear so poor an account of your health; but you were surely very rash to do all that you did and then pass through so exciting a scene as a ball at the palace. it was enough to have tired a man in robust health. complete rest will, however, i hope, quite set you up again. as for myself, i have been rather better of late, and if nothing disturbs me i can do some hours' work every day. i shall this autumn publish another book partly on man, which i dare say many will decry as very wicked. i could have travelled to oxford, but could no more have withstood the excitement of a commemoration (this refers to an invitation to receive the honorary degree of d.c.l. he was one of those nominated for the degree by lord salisbury on assuming the office of chancellor of the university of oxford. the fact that the honour was declined on the score of ill-health was published in the "oxford university gazette", june , .) than i could a ball at buckingham palace. many thanks for your kind remarks about my boys. thank god, all give me complete satisfaction; my fourth stands second at woolwich, and will be an engineer officer at christmas. my wife desires to be very kindly remembered to lady sulivan, in which i very sincerely join, and in congratulation about your daughter's marriage. we are at present solitary, for all our younger children are gone a tour in switzerland. i had never heard a word about the success of the t. del fuego mission. it is most wonderful, and shames me, as i always prophesied utter failure. it is a grand success. i shall feel proud if your committee think fit to elect me an honorary member of your society. with all good wishes and affectionate remembrances of ancient days, believe me, my dear sulivan, your sincere friend, ch. darwin. [my father's connection with the south american mission, which is referred to in the above letter, has given rise to some public comment, and has been to some extent misunderstood. the archbishop of canterbury, speaking at the annual meeting of the south american missionary society, april st, (i quote a 'leaflet,' published by the society.), said that the society "drew the attention of charles darwin, and made him, in his pursuit of the wonders of the kingdom of nature, realise that there was another kingdom just as wonderful and more lasting." some discussion on the subject appeared in the "daily news" of april rd, th, th, , and finally admiral sir james sulivan, on april th, wrote to the same journal, giving a clear account of my father's connection with the society:-- "your article in the "daily news" of yesterday induces me to give you a correct statement of the connection between the south american missionary society and mr. charles darwin, my old friend and shipmate for five years. i have been closely connected with the society from the time of captain allen gardiner's death, and mr. darwin has often expressed to me his conviction that it was utterly useless to send missionaries to such a set of savages as the fuegians, probably the very lowest of the human race. i had always replied that i did not believe any human beings existed too low to comprehend the simple message of the gospel of christ. after many years, i think about (it seems to have been in .), but i cannot find the letter, he wrote to me that the recent accounts of the mission proved to him that he had been wrong and i right in our estimates of the native character, and the possibility of doing them good through missionaries; and he requested me to forward to the society an enclosed cheque for pounds, as a testimony of the interest he took in their good work. on june th, , he wrote: 'i am very glad to hear so good an account of the fuegians, and it is wonderful.' on june th, : 'the progress of the fuegians is wonderful, and had it not occurred would have been to me quite incredible.' on january rd, : 'your extracts' [from a journal] 'about the fuegians are extremely curious, and have interested me much. i have often said that the progress of japan was the greatest wonder in the world, but i declare that the progress of fuegia is almost equally wonderful. on march th, : 'the account of the fuegians interested not only me, but all my family. it is truly wonderful what you have heard from mr. bridges about their honesty and their language. i certainly should have predicted that not all the missionaries in the world could have done what has been done.' on december st, , sending me his annual subscription to the orphanage at the mission station, he wrote: 'judging from the "missionary journal", the mission in tierra del fuego seems going on quite wonderfully well.'"] charles darwin to john lubbock. down, july , . my dear lubbock, as i hear that the census will be brought before the house to-morrow, i write to say how much i hope that you will express your opinion on the desirability of queries in relation to consanguineous marriages being inserted. as you are aware, i have made experiments on the subject during several years; and it is my clear conviction that there is now ample evidence of the existence of a great physiological law, rendering an enquiry with reference to mankind of much importance. in england and many parts of europe the marriages of cousins are objected to from their supposed injurious consequences; but this belief rests on no direct evidence. it is therefore manifestly desirable that the belief should either be proved false, or should be confirmed, so that in this latter case the marriages of cousins might be discouraged. if the proper queries are inserted, the returns would show whether married cousins have in their households on the night of the census as many children as have parents of who are not related; and should the number prove fewer, we might safely infer either lessened fertility in the parents, or which is more probable, lessened vitality in the offspring. it is, moreover, much to be wished that the truth of the often repeated assertion that consanguineous marriages lead to deafness, and dumbness, blindness, etc., should be ascertained; and all such assertions could be easily tested by the returns from a single census. believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [when the census act was passing through the house of commons, sir john lubbock and dr. playfair attempted to carry out this suggestion. the question came to a division, which was lost, but not by many votes. the subject of cousin marriages was afterwards investigated by my brother. ("marriages between first cousins in england, and their effects.' by george darwin. 'journal of the statistical society,' june, .) the results of this laborious piece of work were negative; the author sums up in the sentence:-- "my paper is far from giving any thing like a satisfactory solution of the question as to the effects of consanguineous marriages, but it does, i think, show that the assertion that this question has already been set at rest, cannot be substantiated."] chapter .vii. -- publication of the 'descent of man.' work on 'expression.' - . [the last revise of the 'descent of man' was corrected on january th, , so that the book occupied him for about three years. he wrote to sir j. hooker: "i finished the last proofs of my book a few days ago, the work half-killed me, and i have not the most remote idea whether the book is worth publishing." he also wrote to dr. gray:-- "i have finished my book on the 'descent of man,' etc., and its publication is delayed only by the index: when published, i will send you a copy, but i do not know that you will care about it. parts, as on the moral sense, will, i dare say, aggravate you, and if i hear from you, i shall probably receive a few stabs from your polished stiletto of a pen." the book was published on february , . copies were printed at first, and more before the end of the year. my father notes that he received for this edition pounds. the letters given in the present chapter deal with its reception, and also with the progress of the work on expression. the letters are given, approximately, in chronological order, an arrangement which necessarily separates letters of kindred subjec-matter, but gives perhaps a truer picture of the mingled interests and labours of my father's life. nothing can give a better idea (in small compass) of the growth of evolutionism and its position at this time, than a quotation from mr. huxley ('contemporary review,' .):-- "the gradual lapse of time has now separated us by more than a decade from the date of the publication of the 'origin of species;' and whatever may be thought or said about mr. darwin's doctrines, or the manner in which he has propounded them, this much is certain, that in a dozen years the 'origin of species' has worked as complete a revolution in biological science as the 'principia' did in astronomy;" and it has done so, "because, in the words of helmholtz, it contains 'an essentially new creative thought.' and, as time has slipped by, a happy change has come over mr. darwin's critics. the mixture of ignorance and insolence which at first characterised a large proportion of the attacks with which he was assailed, is no longer the sad distinction of anti-darwinian criticism." a passage in the introduction to the 'descent of man' shows that the author recognised clearly this improvement in the position of evolution. "when a naturalist like carl vogt ventures to say in his address, as president of the national institution of geneva ( ), 'personne en europe au moins, n'ose plus soutenir la creation independante et de toutes pieces, des especes,' it is manifest that at least a large number of naturalists must admit that species are the modified descendants of other species; and this especially holds good with the younger and rising naturalists... of the older and honoured chiefs in natural science, many, unfortunately, are still opposed to evolution in every form." in mr. james hague's pleasantly written article, "a reminiscence of mr. darwin" ('harper's magazine,' october ), he describes a visit to my father "early in " (it must have been at the end of february, within a week after the publication of the book.), shortly after the publication of the 'descent of man.' mr. hague represents my father as "much impressed by the general assent with which his views had been received," and as remarking that "everybody is talking about it without being shocked." later in the year the reception of the book is described in different language in the 'edinburgh review' (july . an adverse criticism. the reviewer sums up by saying that: "never perhaps in the history of philosophy have such wide generalisations been derived from such a small basis of fact."): "on every side it is raising a storm of mingled wrath, wonder, and admiration." with regard to the subsequent reception of the 'descent of man,' my father wrote to dr. dohrn, february , :-- "i did not know until reading your article (in 'das ausland.'), that my 'descent of man' had excited so much furore in germany. it has had an immense circulation in this country and in america, but has met the approval of hardly any naturalists as far as i know. therefore i suppose it was a mistake on my part to publish it; but, anyhow, it will pave the way for some better work." the book on the 'expression of the emotions' was begun on january th, , the last proof of the 'descent of man' having been finished on january th. the rough copy was finished by april th, and shortly after this (in june) the work was interrupted by the preparation of a sixth edition of the 'origin.' in november and december the proofs of the 'expression' book were taken in hand, and occupied him until the following year, when the book was published. some references to the work on expression have occurred in letters already given, showing that the foundation of the book was, to some extent, laid down for some years before he began to write it. thus he wrote to dr. asa gray, april , :-- "i have been lately getting up and looking over my old notes on expression, and fear that i shall not make so much of my hobby-horse as i thought i could; nevertheless, it seems to me a curious subject which has been strangely neglected." it should, however, be remembered that the subject had been before his mind, more or less, from or , as i judge from entries in his early note-books. it was in december, , that he began to make observations on children. the work required much correspondence, not only with missionaries and others living among savages, to whom he sent his printed queries, but among physiologists and physicians. he obtained much information from professor donders, sir w. bowman, sir james paget, dr. w. ogle, dr. crichton browne, as well as from other observers. the first letter refers to the 'descent of man.'] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, january [ ]. my dear wallace, (in the note referred to, dated january , mr. wallace wrote:-- "many thanks for your first volume which i have just finished reading through with the greatest pleasure and interest; and i have also to thank you for the great tenderness with which you have treated me and my heresies." the heresy is the limitation of natural selection as applied to man. my father wrote ('descent of man,' i. page ):--"i cannot therefore understand how it is that mr. wallace maintains that 'natural selection could only have endowed the savage with a brain a little superior to that of an ape.'" in the above quoted letter mr. wallace wrote:--"your chapters on 'man' are of intense interest, but as touching my special heresy not as yet altogether convincing, though of course i fully agree with every word and every argument which goes to prove the evolution or development of man out of a lower form.") your note has given me very great pleasure, chiefly because i was so anxious not to treat you with the least disrespect, and it is so difficult to speak fairly when differing from any one. if i had offended you, it would have grieved me more than you will readily believe. secondly, i am greatly pleased to hear that volume i. interests you; i have got so sick of the whole subject that i felt in utter doubt about the value of any part. i intended, when speaking of females not having been specially modified for protection, to include the prevention of characters acquired by the male being transmitted to the female; but i now see it would have been better to have said "specially acted on," or some such term. possibly my intention may be clearer in volume ii. let me say that my conclusions are chiefly founded on the consideration of all animals taken in a body, bearing in mind how common the rules of sexual differences appear to be in all classes. the first copy of the chapter on lepidoptera agreed pretty closely with you. i then worked on, came back to lepidoptera, and thought myself compelled to alter it--finished sexual selection and for the last time went over lepidoptera, and again i felt forced to alter it. i hope to god there will be nothing disagreeable to you in volume ii., and that i have spoken fairly of your views; i am fearful on this head, because i have just read (but not with sufficient care) mivart's book ('the genesis of species,' by st. g. mivart, .), and i feel absolutely certain that he meant to be fair (but he was stimulated by theological fervour); yet i do not think he has been quite fair... the part which, i think, will have most influence is where he gives the whole series of cases like that of the whalebone, in which we cannot explain the gradational steps; but such cases have no weight on my mind--if a few fish were extinct, who on earth would have ventured even to conjecture that lungs had originated in a swi-bladder? in such a case as the thylacine, i think he was bound to say that the resemblance of the jaw to that of the dog is superficial; the number and correspondence and development of teeth being widely different. i think again when speaking of the necessity of altering a number of characters together, he ought to have thought of man having power by selection to modify simultaneously or almost simultaneously many points, as in making a greyhound or racehorse--as enlarged upon in my 'domestic animals.' mivart is savage or contemptuous about my "moral sense," and so probably will you be. i am extremely pleased that he agrees with my position, as far as animal nature is concerned, of man in the series; or if anything, thinks i have erred in making him too distinct. forgive me for scribbling at such length. you have put me quite in good spirits; i did so dread having been unintentionally unfair towards your views. i hope earnestly the second volume will escape as well. i care now very little what others say. as for our not quite agreeing, really in such complex subjects, it is almost impossible for two men who arrive independently at their conclusions to agree fully, it would be unnatural for them to do so. yours ever, very sincerely, ch. darwin. [professor haeckel seems to have been one of the first to write to my father about the 'descent of man.' i quote from his reply:-- "i must send you a few words to thank you for your interesting, and i may truly say, charming letter. i am delighted that you approve of my book, as far as you have read it. i felt very great difficulty and doubt how often i ought to allude to what you have published; strictly speaking every idea, although occurring independently to me, if published by you previously ought to have appeared as if taken from your works, but this would have made my book very dull reading; and i hoped that a full acknowledgment at the beginning would suffice. (in the introduction to the 'descent of man' the author wrote:-- "this last naturalist [haeckel]... has recently... published his 'naturliche schopfungs-geschichte,' in which he fully discusses the genealogy of man. if this work had appeared before my essay had been written, i should probably never have completed it. almost all the conclusions at which i have arrived, i find confirmed by this naturalist, whose knowledge on many points is much fuller than mine.") i cannot tell you how glad i am to find that i have expressed my high admiration of your labours with sufficient clearness; i am sure that i have not expressed it too strongly."] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, march , . my dear wallace, i have just read your grand review. ("academy", march , .) it is in every way as kindly expressed towards myself as it is excellent in matter. the lyells have been here, and sir c. remarked that no one wrote such good scientific reviews as you, and as miss buckley added, you delight in picking out all that is good, though very far from blind to the bad. in all this i most entirely agree. i shall always consider your review as a great honour; and however much my book may hereafter be abused, as no doubt it will be, your review will console me, notwithstanding that we differ so greatly. i will keep your objections to my views in my mind, but i fear that the latter are almost stereotyped in my mind. i thought for long weeks about the inheritance and selection difficulty, and covered quires of paper with notes in trying to get out of it, but could not, though clearly seeing that it would be a great relief if i could. i will confine myself to two or three remarks. i have been much impressed with what you urge against colour (mr. wallace says that the pairing of butterflies is probably determined by the fact that one male is stronger-winged, or more pertinacious than the rest, rather than by the choice of the females. he quotes the case of caterpillars which are brightly coloured and yet sexless. mr. wallace also makes the good criticism that the 'descent of man' consists of two books mixed together.) in the case of insects, having been acquired through sexual selection. i always saw that the evidence was very weak; but i still think, if it be admitted that the musical instruments of insects have been gained through sexual selection, that there is not the least improbability in colour having been thus gained. your argument with respect to the denudation of mankind and also to insects, that taste on the part of one sex would have to remain nearly the same during many generations, in order that sexual selection should produce any effect, i agree to; and i think this argument would be sound if used by one who denied that, for instance, the plumes of birds of paradise had been so gained. i believe you admit this, and if so i do not see how your argument applies in other cases. i have recognized for some short time that i have made a great omission in not having discussed, as far as i could, the acquisition of taste, its inherited nature, and its permanence within pretty close limits for long periods. [with regard to the success of the 'descent of man,' i quote from a letter to professor ray lankester (march , ):-- "i think you will be glad to hear, as a proof of the increasing liberality of england, that my book has sold wonderfully... and as yet no abuse (though some, no doubt, will come, strong enough), and only contempt even in the poor old 'athenaeum'." as to reviews that struck him he wrote to mr. wallace (march , ):-- "there is a very striking second article on my book in the 'pall mall'. the articles in the "spectator" ("spectator", march and , . with regard to the evolution of conscience the reviewer thinks that my father comes much nearer to the "kernel of the psychological problem" than many of his predecessors. the second article contains a good discussion of the bearing of the book on the question of design, and concludes by finding in it a vindication of theism more wonderful than that in paley's 'natural theology.') have also interested me much." on march he wrote to mr. murray:-- "many thanks for the "nonconformist" [march , ]. i like to see all that is written, and it is of some real use. if you hear of reviewers in out-of-the-way papers, especially the religious, as "record", "guardian", "tablet", kindly inform me. it is wonderful that there has been no abuse ("i feel a full conviction that my chapter on man will excite attention and plenty of abuse, and i suppose abuse is as good as praise for selling a book."--(from a letter to mr. murray, january , .) as yet, but i suppose i shall not escape. on the whole, the reviews have been highly favourable." the following extract from a letter to mr. murray (april , ) refers to a review in the "times". ("times", april and , . the review is not only unfavourable as regards the book under discussion, but also as regards evolution in general, as the following citation will show: "even had it been rendered highly probable, which we doubt, that the animal creation has been developed into its numerous and widely different varieties by mere evolution, it would still require an independent investigation of overwhelming force and completeness to justify the presumption that man is but a term in this self-evolving series.") "i have no idea who wrote the "times" review. he has no knowledge of science, and seems to me a wind-bag full of metaphysics and classics, so that i do not much regard his adverse judgment, though i suppose it will injure the sale." a review of the 'descent of man,' which my father spoke of as "capital," appeared in the "saturday review" (march and , ). a passage from the first notice (march ) may be quoted in illustration of the broad basis as regards general acceptance, on which the doctrine of evolution now stood: "he claims to have brought man himself, his origin and constitution, within that unity which he had previously sought to trace through all lower animal forms. the growth of opinion in the interval, due in chief measure to his own intermediate works, has placed the discussion of this problem in a position very much in advance of that held by it fifteen years ago. the problem of evolution is hardly any longer to be treated as one of first principles; nor has mr. darwin to do battle for a first hearing of his central hypothesis, upborne as it is by a phalanx of names full of distinction and promise, in either hemisphere." the infolded point of the human ear, discovered by mr. woolner, and described in the 'descent of man,' seems especially to have struck the popular imagination; my father wrote to mr. woolner:-- "the tips to the ears have become quite celebrated. one reviewer ('nature') says they ought to be called, as i suggested in joke, angulus woolnerianus. ('nature' april , . the term suggested is angulus woolnerii.) a german is very proud to find that he has the tips well developed, and i believe will send me a photograph of his ears."] charles darwin to john brodie innes. (rev. j. brodie innes, of milton brodie, formerly vicar of down.) down, may [ ]. my dear innes, i have been very glad to receive your pleasant letter, for to tell you the truth, i have sometimes wondered whether you would not think me an outcast and a reprobate after the publication of my last book ['descent']. (in a former letter of my father's to mr. innes:--"we often differed, but you are one of those rare mortals from whom one can differ and yet feel no shade of animosity, and that is a thing which i should feel very proud of, if any one could say it of me.") i do not wonder at all at your not agreeing with me, for a good many professed naturalists do not. yet when i see in how extraordinary a manner the judgment of naturalists has changed since i published the 'origin,' i feel convinced that there will be in ten years quite as much unanimity about man, as far as his corporeal frame is concerned... [the following letters addressed to dr. ogle deal with the progress of the work on expression.] down, march [ ]. my dear dr. ogle, i have received both your letters, and they tell me all that i wanted to know in the clearest possible way, as, indeed, all your letters have ever done. i thank you cordially. i will give the case of the murderer ('expression of the emotions,' page . the arrest of a murderer, as witnessed by dr. ogle in a hospital.) in my hobby-horse essay on expression. i fear that the eustachian tube question must have cost you a deal of labour; it is quite a complete little essay. it is pretty clear that the mouth is not opened under surprise merely to improve the hearing. yet why do deaf men generally keep their mouths open? the other day a man here was mimicking a deaf friend, leaning his head forward and sideways to the speaker, with his mouth well open; it was a lifelike representation of a deaf man. shakespeare somewhere says: "hold your breath, listen" or "hark," i forget which. surprise hurries the breath, and it seems to me one can breathe, at least hurriedly, much quieter through the open mouth than through the nose. i saw the other day you doubted this. as objection is your province at present, i think breathing through the nose ought to come within it likewise, so do pray consider this point, and let me hear your judgment. consider the nose to be a flower to be fertilised, and then you will make out all about it. (dr. ogle had corresponded with my father on his own observations on the fertilisation of flowers.) i have had to allude to your paper on 'sense of smell' (medico-chirurg. trans. liii.); is the paging right, namely, , , ? if not, i protest by all the gods against the plan followed by some, of having presentation copies falsely paged; and so does rolleston, as he wrote to me the other day. in haste. yours very sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to w. ogle. down, march [ ]. my dear dr. ogle, you will think me a horrid bore, but i beg you, in relation to a new point for observation, to imagine as well as you can that you suddenly come across some dreadful object, and act with a sudden little start, a shudder of horror; please do this once or twice, and observe yourself as well as you can, and afterwards read the rest of this note, which i have consequently pinned down. i find, to my surprise, whenever i act thus my platysma contracts. does yours? (n.b.--see what a man will do for science; i began this note with a horrid fib, namely, that i want you to attend to a new point. (the point was doubtless described as a new one, to avoid the possibility of dr. ogle's attention being directed to the platysma, a muscle which had been the subject of discussion in other letters.)) i will try and get some persons thus to act who are so lucky as not to know that they even possess this muscle, so troublesome for any one making out about expression. is a shudder akin to the rigor or shivering before fever? if so, perhaps the platysma could be observed in such cases. paget told me that he had attended much to shivering, and had written in ms. on the subject, and been much perplexed about it. he mentioned that passing a catheter often causes shivering. perhaps i will write to him about the platysma. he is always most kind in aiding me in all ways, but he is so overworked that it hurts my conscience to trouble him, for i have a conscience, little as you have reason to think so. help me if you can, and forgive me. your murderer case has come in splendidly as the acme of prostration from fear. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to dr. ogle. down, april [ ]. my dear dr. ogle, i am truly obliged for all the great trouble which you have so kindly taken. i am sure you have no cause to say that you are sorry you can give me no definite information, for you have given me far more than i ever expected to get. the action of the platysma is not very important for me, but i believe that you will fully understand (for i have always fancied that our minds were very similar) the intolerable desire i had not to be utterly baffled. now i know that it sometimes contracts from fear and from shuddering, but not apparently from a prolonged state of fear such as the insane suffer... [mr. mivart's 'genesis of species,'--a contribution to the literature of evolution, which excited much attention--was published in , before the appearance of the 'descent of man.' to this book the following letter (june , ) from the late chauncey wright to my father refers. (chauncey wright was born at northampton, massachusetts, september , , and came of a family settled in that town since . he became in a computer in the nautical almanac office at cambridge, mass., and lived a quiet uneventful life, supported by the small stipend of his office, and by what he earned from his occasional articles, as well as by a little teaching. he thought and read much on metaphysical subjects, but on the whole with an outcome (as far as the world was concerned) not commensurate to the power of his mind. he seems to have been a man of strong individuality, and to have made a lasting impression on his friends. he died in september, .)]: "i send... revised proofs of an article which will be published in the july number of the 'north american review,' sending it in the hope that it will interest or even be of greater value to you. mr. mivart's book ['genesis of species'] of which this article is substantially a review, seems to me a very good background from which to present the considerations which i have endeavoured to set forth in the article, in defence and illustration of the theory of natural selection. my special purpose has been to contribute to the theory by placing it in its proper relations to philosophical enquiries in general." ('letters of chauncey wright,' by j.b. thayer. privately printed, , page .) with regard to the proofs received from mr. wright, my father wrote to mr. wallace:] down, july [ ]. my dear wallace, i send by this post a review by chauncey wright, as i much want your opinion of it as soon as you can send it. i consider you an incomparably better critic than i am. the article, though not very clearly written, and poor in parts from want of knowledge, seems to me admirable. mivart's book is producing a great effect against natural selection, and more especially against me. therefore if you think the article even somewhat good i will write and get permission to publish it as a shilling pamphlet, together with the ms. additions (enclosed), for which there was not room at the end of the review... i am now at work at a new and cheap edition of the 'origin,' and shall answer several points in mivart's book, and introduce a new chapter for this purpose; but i treat the subject so much more concretely, and i dare say less philosophically, than wright, that we shall not interfere with each other. you will think me a bigot when i say, after studying mivart, i was never before in my life so convinced of the general (i.e. not in detail) truth of the views in the 'origin.' i grieve to see the omission of the words by mivart, detected by wright. ('north american review,' volume , pages , . chauncey wright points out that the words omitted are "essential to the point on which he [mr. mivart] cites mr. darwin's authority." it should be mentioned that the passage from which words are omitted is not given within inverted commas by mr. mivart.) i complained to mivart that in two cases he quotes only the commencement of sentences by me, and thus modifies my meaning; but i never supposed he would have omitted words. there are other cases of what i consider unfair treatment. i conclude with sorrow that though he means to be honourable he is so bigoted that he cannot act fairly... charles darwin to chauncey wright. down, july , . my dear sir, i have hardly ever in my life read an article which has given me so much satisfaction as the review which you have been so kind as to send me. i agree to almost everything which you say. your memory must be wonderfully accurate, for you know my works as well as i do myself, and your power of grasping other men's thoughts is something quite surprising; and this, as far as my experience goes, is a very rare quality. as i read on i perceived how you have acquired this power, viz. by thoroughly analyzing each word. ... now i am going to beg a favour. will you provisionally give me permission to reprint your article as a shilling pamphlet? i ask only provisionally, as i have not yet had time to reflect on the subject. it would cost me, i fancy, with advertisements, some or pounds; but the worst is that, as i hear, pamphlets never will sell. and this makes me doubtful. should you think it too much trouble to send me a title for the chance? the title ought, i think, to have mr. mivart's name on it. ... if you grant permission and send a title, you will kindly understand that i will first make further enquiries whether there is any chance of a pamphlet being read. pray believe me yours very sincerely obliged, ch. darwin. [the pamphlet was published in the autumn, and on october my father wrote to mr. wright:-- "it pleases me much that you are satisfied with the appearance of your pamphlet. i am sure it will do our cause good service; and this same opinion huxley has expressed to me. ('letters of chauncey wright,' page ."] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, july [ ]. ... i feel very doubtful how far i shall succeed in answering mivart, it is so difficult to answer objections to doubtful points, and make the discussion readable. i shall make only a selection. the worst of it is, that i cannot possibly hunt through all my references for isolated points, it would take me three weeks of intolerably hard work. i wish i had your power of arguing clearly. at present i feel sick of everything, and if i could occupy my time and forget my daily discomforts, or rather miseries, i would never publish another word. but i shall cheer up, i dare say, soon, having only just got over a bad attack. farewell; god knows why i bother you about myself. i can say nothing more about missing-links than what i have said. i should rely much on pre-silurian times; but then comes sir w. thomson like an odious spectre. farewell. ... there is a most cutting review of me in the 'quarterly' (july .); i have only read a few pages. the skill and style make me think of mivart. i shall soon be viewed as the most despicable of men. this 'quarterly review' tempts me to republish ch. wright, even if not read by any one, just to show some one will say a word against mivart, and that his (i.e. mivart's) remarks ought not to be swallowed without some reflection... god knows whether my strength and spirit will last out to write a chapter versus mivart and others; i do so hate controversy and feel i shall do it so badly. [the above-mentioned 'quarterly' review was the subject of an article by mr. huxley in the november number of the 'contemporary review.' here, also, are discussed mr. wallace's 'contribution to the theory of natural selection,' and the second edition of mr. mivart's 'genesis of species.' what follows is taken from mr. huxley's article. the 'quarterly' reviewer, though being to some extent an evolutionist, believes that man "differs more from an elephant or a gorilla, than do these from the dust of the earth on which they tread." the reviewer also declares that my father has "with needless opposition, set at naught the first principles of both philosophy and religion." mr. huxley passes from the 'quarterly' reviewer's further statement, that there is no necessary opposition between evolution and religion, to the more definite position taken by mr. mivart, that the orthodox authorities of the roman catholic church agree in distinctly asserting derivative creation, so that "their teachings harmonise with all that modern science can possibly require." here mr. huxley felt the want of that "study of christian philosophy" (at any rate, in its jesuitic garb), which mr. mivart speaks of, and it was a want he at once set to work to fill up. he was then staying at st. andrews, whence he wrote to my father:-- "by great good luck there is an excellent library here, with a good copy of suarez (the learned jesuit on whom mr. mivart mainly relies.), in a dozen big folios. among these i dived, to the great astonishment of the librarian, and looking into them 'as the careful robin eyes the delver's toil' (vide 'idylls'), i carried off the two venerable clasped volumes which were most promising." even those who know mr. huxley's unrivalled power of tearing the heart out of a book must marvel at the skill with which he has made suarez speak on his side. "so i have come out," he wrote, "in the new character of a defender of catholic orthodoxy, and upset mivart out of the mouth of his own prophet." the remainder of mr. huxley's critique is largely occupied with a dissection of the 'quarterly' reviewer's psychology, and his ethical views. he deals, too, with mr. wallace's objections to the doctrine of evolution by natural causes when applied to the mental faculties of man. finally, he devotes a couple of pages to justifying his description of the 'quarterly' reviewer's "treatment of mr. darwin as alike unjust and unbecoming." it will be seen that the two following letters were written before the publication of mr. huxley's article.] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, september [ ]. my dear huxley, your letter has pleased me in many ways, to a wonderful degree... what a wonderful man you are to grapple with those old metaphysico-divinity books. it quite delights me that you are going to some extent to answer and attack mivart. his book, as you say, has produced a great effect; yesterday i perceived the reverberations from it, even from italy. it was this that made me ask chauncey wright to publish at my expense his article, which seems to me very clever, though ill-written. he has not knowledge enough to grapple with mivart in detail. i think there can be no shadow of doubt that he is the author of the article in the 'quarterly review'... i am preparing a new edition of the 'origin,' and shall introduce a new chapter in answer to miscellaneous objections, and shall give up the greater part to answer mivart's cases of difficulty of incipient structures being of no use: and i find it can be done easily. he never states his case fairly, and makes wonderful blunders... the pendulum is now swinging against our side, but i feel positive it will soon swing the other way; and no mortal man will do half as much as you in giving it a start in the right direction, as you did at the first commencement. god forgive me for writing so long and egotistical a letter; but it is your fault, for you have so delighted me; i never dreamed that you would have time to say a word in defence of the cause which you have so often defended. it will be a long battle, after we are dead and gone... great is the power of misrepresentation... charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, september [ ]. my dear huxley, it was very good of you to send the proof-sheets, for i was very anxious to read your article. i have been delighted with it. how you do smash mivart's theology: it is almost equal to your article versus comte ('fortnightly review,' . with regard to the relations of positivism to science my father wrote to mr. spencer in : "how curious and amusing it is to see to what an extent the positivists hate all men of science; i fancy they are dimly conscious what laughable and gigantic blunders their prophet made in predicting the course of science."),--that never can be transcended... but i have been preeminently glad to read your discussion on [the 'quarterly' reviewer's] metaphysics, especially about reason and his definition of it. i felt sure he was wrong, but having only common observation and sense to trust to, i did not know what to say in my second edition of my 'descent.' now a footnote and reference to you will do the work... for me, this is one of the most important parts of the review. but for pleasure, i have been particularly glad that my few words ('descent of man,' volume i. page . a discussion on the question whether an act done impulsively or instinctively can be called moral.) on the distinction, if it can be so called, between mivart's two forms of morality, caught your attention. i am so pleased that you take the same view, and give authorities for it; but i searched mill in vain on this head. how well you argue the whole case. i am mounting climax on climax; for after all there is nothing, i think, better in your whole review than your arguments v. wallace on the intellect of savages. i must tell you what hooker said to me a few years ago. "when i read huxley, i feel quite infantile in intellect." by jove i have felt the truth of this throughout your review. what a man you are. there are scores of splendid passages, and vivid flashes of wit. i have been a good deal more than merely pleased by the concluding part of your review; and all the more, as i own i felt mortified by the accusation of bigotry, arrogance, etc., in the 'quarterly review.' but i assure you, he may write his worst, and he will never mortify me again. my dear huxley, yours gratefully, charles darwin. charles darwin to f. muller. haredene, albury, august [ ]. my dear sir, your last letter has interested me greatly; it is wonderfully rich in facts and original thoughts. first, let me say that i have been much pleased by what you say about my book. it has had a very large sale; but i have been much abused for it, especially for the chapter on the moral sense; and most of my reviewers consider the book as a poor affair. god knows what its merits may really be; all that i know is that i did my best. with familiarity i think naturalists will accept sexual selection to a greater extent than they now seem inclined to do. i should very much like to publish your letter, but i do not see how it could be made intelligible, without numerous coloured illustrations, but i will consult mr. wallace on this head. i earnestly hope that you keep notes of all your letters, and that some day you will publish a book: 'notes of a naturalist in s. brazil,' or some such title. wallace will hardly admit the possibility of sexual selection with lepidoptera, and no doubt it is very improbable. therefore, i am very glad to hear of your cases (which i will quote in the next edition) of the two sets of hesperiadae, which display their wings differently, according to which surface is coloured. i cannot believe that such display is accidental and purposeless... no fact of your letter has interested me more than that about mimicry. it is a capital fact about the males pursuing the wrong females. you put the difficulty of the first steps in imitation in a most striking and convincing manner. your idea of sexual selection having aided protective imitation interests me greatly, for the same idea had occurred to me in quite different cases, viz. the dulness of all animals in the galapagos islands, patagonia, etc., and in some other cases; but i was afraid even to hint at such an idea. would you object to my giving some such sentence as follows: "f. muller suspects that sexual selection may have come into play, in aid of protective imitation, in a very peculiar manner, which will appear extremely improbable to those who do not fully believe in sexual selection. it is that the appreciation of certain colour is developed in those species which frequently behold other species thus ornamented." again let me thank you cordially for your most interesting letter... charles darwin to e.b. tylor. down, [september , ]. my dear sir, i hope that you will allow me to have the pleasure of telling you how greatly i have been interested by your 'primitive culture,' now that i have finished it. it seems to me a most profound work, which will be certain to have permanent value, and to be referred to for years to come. it is wonderful how you trace animism from the lower races up to the religious belief of the highest races. it will make me for the future look at religion--a belief in the soul, etc.--from a new point of view. how curious, also, are the survivals or rudiments of old customs... you will perhaps be surprised at my writing at so late a period, but i have had the book read aloud to me, and from much ill-health of late could only stand occasional short reads. the undertaking must have cost you gigantic labour. nevertheless, i earnestly hope that you may be induced to treat morals in the same enlarged yet careful manner, as you have animism. i fancy from the last chapter that you have thought of this. no man could do the work so well as you, and the subject assuredly is a most important and interesting one. you must now possess references which would guide you to a sound estimation of the morals of savages; and how writers like wallace, lubbock, etc., etc., do differ on this head. forgive me for troubling you, and believe me, with much respect, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. . [at the beginning of the year the sixth edition of the 'origin,' which had been begun in june, , was nearly completed. the last sheet was revised on january , , and the book was published in the course of the month. this volume differs from the previous ones in appearance and size--it consists of pages instead of pages and is a few ounces lighter; it is printed on bad paper, in small type, and with the lines unpleasantly close together. it had, however, one advantage over previous editions, namely that it was issued at a lower price. it is to be regretted that this the final edition of the 'origin' should have appeared in so unattractive a form; a form which has doubtless kept off many readers from the book. the discussion suggested by the 'genesis of species' was perhaps the most important addition to the book. the objection that incipient structures cannot be of use was dealt with in some detail, because it seemed to the author that this was the point in mr. mivart's book which has struck most readers in england. it is a striking proof of how wide and general had become the acceptance of his views that my father found it necessary to insert (sixth edition, page ), the sentence: "as a record of a former state of things, i have retained in the foregoing paragraphs and also elsewhere, several sentences which imply that naturalists believe in the separate creation of each species; and i have been much censured for having thus expressed myself. but undoubtedly this was the general belief when the first edition of the present work appeared... now things are wholly changed, and almost every naturalist admits the great principle of evolution." a small correction introduced into this sixth edition is connected with one of his minor papers: "note on the habits of the pampas woodpecker." (zoolog. soc. proc. .) in the fifth edition of the 'origin,' page , he wrote:-- "yet as i can assert not only from my own observation, but from that of the accurate azara, it [the ground woodpecker] never climbs a tree." the paper in question was a reply to mr. hudson's remarks on the woodpecker in a previous number of the same journal. the last sentence of my father's paper is worth quoting for its temperate tone: "finally, i trust that mr. hudson is mistaken when he says that any one acquainted with the habits of this bird might be induced to believe that i 'had purposely wrested the truth' in order to prove my theory. he exonerates me from this charge; but i should be loath to think that there are many naturalists who, without any evidence, would accuse a fellow-worker of telling a deliberate falsehood to prove his theory." in the sixth edition, page , the passage runs "in certain large districts it does not climb trees." and he goes on to give mr. hudson's statement that in other regions it does frequent trees. one of the additions in the sixth edition (page ), was a reference to mr. a. hyatt's and professor cope's theory of "acceleration." with regard to this he wrote (october , ) in characteristic words to mr. hyatt:-- "permit me to take this opportunity to express my sincere regret at having committed two grave errors in the last edition of my 'origin of species,' in my allusion to yours and professor cope's views on acceleration and retardation of development. i had thought that professor cope had preceded you; but i now well remember having formerly read with lively interest, and marked, a paper by you somewhere in my library, on fossil cephalapods with remarks on the subject. it seems also that i have quite misrepresented your joint view. this has vexed me much. i confess that i have never been able to grasp fully what you wish to show, and i presume that this must be owing to some dulness on my part." lastly, it may be mentioned that this cheap edition being to some extent intended as a popular one, was made to include a glossary of technical terms, "given because several readers have complained... that some of the terms used were unintelligible to them." the glossary was compiled by mr. dallas, and being an excellent collection of clear and sufficient definitions, must have proved useful to many readers.] charles darwin to j.l.a. de quatrefages. down, january , . my dear sir, i am much obliged for your very kind letter and exertions in my favour. i had thought that the publication of my last book ['descent of man'] would have destroyed all your sympathy with me, but though i estimated very highly your great liberality of mind, it seems that i underrated it. i am gratified to hear that m. lacaze-duthiers will vote (he was not elected as a corresponding member of the french academy until .) for me, for i have long honoured his name. i cannot help regretting that you should expend your valuable time in trying to obtain for me the honour of election, for i fear, judging from the last time, that all your labour will be in vain. whatever the result may be, i shall always retain the most lively recollection of your sympathy and kindness, and this will quite console me for my rejection. with much respect and esteem, i remain, dear sir, yours truly obliged, charles darwin. p.s.--with respect to the great stress which you lay on man walking on two legs, whilst the quadrumana go on all fours, permit me to remind you that no one much values the great difference in the mode of locomotion, and consequently in structure, between seals and the terrestrial carnivora, or between the almost biped kangaroos and other marsupials. charles darwin to august weismann. (professor of zoology in freiburg.) down, april , . my dear sir, i have now read your essay ('ueber den einfluss der isolirung auf die artbildung.' leipzig, .) with very great interest. your view of the 'origin' of local races through "amixie," is altogether new to me, and seems to throw an important light on an obscure problem. there is, however, something strange about the periods or endurance of variability. i formerly endeavoured to investigate the subject, not by looking to past time, but to species of the same genus widely distributed; and i found in many cases that all the species, with perhaps one or two exceptions, were variable. it would be a very interesting subject for a conchologist to investigate, viz., whether the species of the same genus were variable during many successive geological formations. i began to make enquiries on this head, but failed in this, as in so many other things, from the want of time and strength. in your remarks on crossing, you do not, as it seems to me, lay nearly stress enough on the increased vigour of the offspring derived from parents which have been exposed to different conditions. i have during the last five years been making experiments on this subject with plants, and have been astonished at the results, which have not yet been published. in the first part of your essay, i thought that you wasted (to use an english expression) too much powder and shot on m. wagner (prof. wagner has written two essays on the same subject. 'die darwin'sche theorie und das migrationsgesetz, in , and 'ueber den einfluss der geographischen isolirung, etc.,' an address to the bavarian academy of sciences at munich, .); but i changed my opinion when i saw how admirably you treated the whole case, and how well you used the facts about the planorbis. i wish i had studied this latter case more carefully. the manner in which, as you show, the different varieties blend together and make a constant whole, agrees perfectly with my hypothetical illustrations. many years ago the late e. forbes described three closely consecutive beds in a secondary formation, each with representative forms of the same fres-water shells: the case is evidently analogous with that of hilgendorf ("ueber planorbis multiformis im steinheimer susswasser-kalk." monatsbericht of the berlin academy, .), but the interesting connecting varieties or links were here absent. i rejoice to think that i formerly said as emphatically as i could, that neither isolation nor time by themselves do anything for the modification of species. hardly anything in your essay has pleased me so much personally, as to find that you believe to a certain extent in sexual selection. as far as i can judge, very few naturalists believe in this. i may have erred on many points, and extended the doctrine too far, but i feel a strong conviction that sexual selection will hereafter be admitted to be a powerful agency. i cannot agree with what you say about the taste for beauty in animals not easily varying. it may be suspected that even the habit of viewing differently coloured surrounding objects would influence their taste, and fritz muller even goes so far as to believe that the sight of gaudy butterflies might influence the taste of distinct species. there are many remarks and statements in your essay which have interested me greatly, and i thank you for the pleasure which i have received from reading it. with sincere respect, i remain, my dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. p.s.--if you should ever be induced to consider the whole doctrine of sexual selection, i think that you will be led to the conclusion, that characters thus gained by one sex are very commonly transferred in a greater or less degree to the other sex. [with regard to moritz wagner's first essay, my father wrote to that naturalist, apparently in :] dear and respected sir, i thank you sincerely for sending me your 'migrationsgesetz, etc.,' and for the very kind and most honourable notice which you have taken of my works. that a naturalist who has travelled into so many and such distant regions, and who has studied animals of so many classes, should, to a considerable extent, agree with me, is, i can assure you, the highest gratification of which i am capable... although i saw the effects of isolation in the case of islands and mountain-ranges, and knew of a few instances of rivers, yet the greater number of your facts were quite unknown to me. i now see that from the want of knowledge i did not make nearly sufficient use of the views which you advocate; and i almost wish i could believe in its importance to the same extent with you; for you well show, in a manner which never occurred to me, that it removes many difficulties and objections. but i must still believe that in many large areas all the individuals of the same species have been slowly modified, in the same manner, for instance, as the english race-horse has been improved, that is by the continued selection of the fleetest individuals, without any separation. but i admit that by this process two or more new species could hardly be found within the same limited area; some degree of separation, if not indispensable, would be highly advantageous; and here your facts and views will be of great value... [the following letter bears on the same subject. it refers to professor m. wagner's essay, published in "das ausland", may , :] charles darwin to moritz wagner. down, october , . dear sir, i have now finished reading your essays, which have interested me in a very high degree, notwithstanding that i differ much from you on various points. for instance, several considerations make me doubt whether species are much more variable at one period than at another, except through the agency of changed conditions. i wish, however, that i could believe in this doctrine, as it removes many difficulties. but my strongest objection to your theory is that it does not explain the manifold adaptations in structure in every organic being--for instance in a picus for climbing trees and catching insects--or in a strix for catching animals at night, and so on ad infinitum. no theory is in the least satisfactory to me unless it clearly explains such adaptations. i think that you misunderstand my views on isolation. i believe that all the individuals of a species can be slowly modified within the same district, in nearly the same manner as man effects by what i have called the process of unconscious selection... i do not believe that one species will give birth to two or more new species as long as they are mingled together within the same district. nevertheless i cannot doubt that many new species have been simultaneously developed within the same large continental area; and in my 'origin of species' i endeavoured to explain how two new species might be developed, although they met and intermingled on the borders of their range. it would have been a strange fact if i had overlooked the importance of isolation, seeing that it was such cases as that of the galapagos archipelago, which chiefly led me to study the origin of species. in my opinion the greatest error which i have committed, has been not allowing sufficient weight to the direct action of the environment, i.e. food, climate, etc., independently of natural selection. modifications thus caused, which are neither of advantage nor disadvantage to the modified organism, would be especially favoured, as i can now see chiefly through your observations, by isolation in a small area, where only a few individuals lived under nearly uniform conditions. when i wrote the 'origin,' and for some years afterwards, i could find little good evidence of the direct action of the environment; now there is a large body of evidence, and your case of the saturnia is one of the most remarkable of which i have heard. although we differ so greatly, i hope that you will permit me to express my respect for your long-continued and successful labours in the good cause of natural science. i remain, dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. [the two following letters are also of interest as bearing on my father's views on the action of isolation as regards the origin of new species:] charles darwin to k. semper. down, november , . my dear professor semper, when i published the sixth edition of the 'origin,' i thought a good deal on the subject to which you refer, and the opinion therein expressed was my deliberate conviction. i went as far as i could, perhaps too far in agreement with wagner; since that time i have seen no reason to change my mind, but then i must add that my attention has been absorbed on other subjects. there are two different classes of cases, as it appears to me, viz. those in which a species becomes slowly modified in the same country (of which i cannot doubt there are innumerable instances) and those cases in which a species splits into two or three or more new species, and in the latter case, i should think nearly perfect separation would greatly aid in their "specification," to coin a new word. i am very glad that you are taking up this subject, for you will be sure to throw much light on it. i remember well, long ago, oscillating much; when i thought of the fauna and flora of the galapagos islands i was all for isolation, when i thought of s. america i doubted much. pray believe me, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i hope that this letter will not be quite illegible, but i have no amanuensis at present. charles darwin to k. semper. down, november , . dear professor semper, since writing i have recalled some of the thoughts and conclusions which have passed through my mind of late years. in north america, in going from north to south or from east to west, it is clear that the changed conditions of life have modified the organisms in the different regions, so that they now form distinct races or even species. it is further clear that in isolated districts, however small, the inhabitants almost always get slightly modified, and how far this is due to the nature of the slightly different conditions to which they are exposed, and how far to mere interbreeding, in the manner explained by weismann, i can form no opinion. the same difficulty occurred to me (as shown in my 'variation of animals and plants under domestication') with respect to the aboriginal breeds of cattle, sheep, etc., in the separated districts of great britain, and indeed throughout europe. as our knowledge advances, very slight differences, considered by systematists as of no importance in structure, are continually found to be functionally important; and i have been especially struck with this fact in the case of plants to which my observations have of late years been confined. therefore it seems to me rather rash to consider the slight differences between representative species, for instance those inhabiting the different islands of the same archipelago, as of no functional importance, and as not in any way due to natural selection. with respect to all adapted structures, and these are innumerable, i cannot see how m. wagner's view throws any light, nor indeed do i see at all more clearly than i did before, from the numerous cases which he has brought forward, how and why it is that a long isolated form should almost always become slightly modified. i do not know whether you will care about hearing my further opinion on the point in question, for as before remarked i have not attended much of late years to such questions, thinking it prudent, now that i am growing old, to work at easier subjects. believe me, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. i hope and trust that you will throw light on these points. p.s.--i will add another remark which i remember occurred to me when i first read m. wagner. when a species first arrives on a small island, it will probably increase rapidly, and unless all the individuals change instantaneously (which is improbable in the highest degree), the slowly, more or less, modifying offspring must intercross one with another, and with their unmodified parents, and any offspring not as yet modified. the case will then be like that of domesticated animals which have slowly become modified, either by the action of the external conditions or by the process which i have called the unconscious selection by man--i.e., in contrast with methodical selection. [the letters continue the history of the year , which has been interrupted by a digression on isolation.] charles darwin to the marquis de saporta. down, april , . dear sir, i thank you very sincerely and feel much honoured by the trouble which you have taken in giving me your reflections on the origin of man. it gratifies me extremely that some parts of my work have interested you, and that we agree on the main conclusion of the derivation of man from some lower form. i will reflect on what you have said, but i cannot at present give up my belief in the close relationship of man to the higher simiae. i do not put much trust in any single character, even that of dentition; but i put the greatest faith in resemblances in many parts of the whole organisation, for i cannot believe that such resemblances can be due to any cause except close blood relationship. that man is closely allied to the higher simiae is shown by the classification of linnaeus, who was so good a judge of affinity. the man who in england knows most about the structure of the simiae, namely, mr. mivart, and who is bitterly opposed to my doctrines about the derivation of the mental powers, yet has publicly admitted that i have not put man too close to the higher simiae, as far as bodily structure is concerned. i do not think the absence of reversions of structure in man is of much weight; c. vogt, indeed, argues that [the existence of] micr-cephalous idiots is a case of reversion. no one who believes in evolution will doubt that the phocae are descended from some terrestrial carnivore. yet no one would expect to meet with any such reversion in them. the lesser divergence of character in the races of man in comparison with the species of simiadae may perhaps be accounted for by man having spread over the world at a much later period than did the simiadae. i am fully prepared to admit the high antiquity of man; but then we have evidence, in the dryopithecus, of the high antiquity of the anthropomorphous simiae. i am glad to hear that you are at work on your fossil plants, which of late years have afforded so rich a field for discovery. with my best thanks for your great kindness, and with much respect, i remain, dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. [in april, , he was elected to the royal society of holland, and wrote to professor donders:-- "very many thanks for your letter. the honour of being elected a foreign member of your royal society has pleased me much. the sympathy of his fellow workers has always appeared to me by far the highest reward to which any scientific man can look. my gratification has been not a little increased by first hearing of the honour from you."] charles darwin to chauncey wright. down, june , . my dear sir, many thanks for your article (the proof-sheets of an article which appeared in the july number of the 'north american review.' it was a rejoinder to mr. mivart's reply ('north american review,' april ) to mr. chauncey wright's pamphlet. chauncey wright says of it ('letters,' page ):--"it is not properly a rejoinder but a new article, repeating and expounding some of the points of my pamphlet, and answering some of mr. mivart's replies incidentally.") in the 'north american review,' which i have read with great interest. nothing can be clearer than the way in which you discuss the permanence or fixity of species. it never occurred to me to suppose that any one looked at the case as it seems mr. mivart does. had i read his answer to you, perhaps i should have perceived this; but i have resolved to waste no more time in reading reviews of my works or on evolution, excepting when i hear that they are good and contain new matter... it is pretty clear that mr. mivart has come to the end of his tether on this subject. as your mind is so clear, and as you consider so carefully the meaning of words, i wish you would take some incidental occasion to consider when a thing may properly be said to be effected by the will of man. i have been led to the wish by reading an article by your professor whitney versus schleicher. he argues, because each step of change in language is made by the will of man, the whole language so changes; but i do not think that this is so, as man has no intention or wish to change the language. it is a parallel case with what i have called "unconscious selection," which depends on men consciously preserving the best individuals, and thus unconsciously altering the breed. my dear sir, yours sincerely, charles darwin. [not long afterwards (september) mr. chauncey wright paid a visit to down (mr. and mrs. c.l. brace, who had given much of their lives to philanthropic work in new york, also paid a visit at down in this summer. some of their work is recorded in mr. brace's 'the dangerous classes of new york,' and of this book my father wrote to the author:-- "since you were here my wife has read aloud to me more than half of your work, and it has interested us both in the highest degree, and we shall read every word of the remainder. the facts seem to me very well told, and the inferences very striking. but after all this is but a weak part of the impression left on our minds by what we have read; for we are both filled with earnest admiration at the heroic labours of yourself and others."), which he described in a letter ('letters, page - .) to miss s. sedgwick (now mrs. william darwin): "if you can imagine me enthusiastic--absolutely and unqualifiedly so, without a but or criticism, then think of my last evening's and this morning's talks with mr. darwin... i was never so worked up in my life, and did not sleep many hours under the hospitable roof... it would be quite impossible to give by way of report any idea of these talks before and at and after dinner, at breakfast, and at leav-taking; and yet i dislike the egotism of 'testifying' like other religious enthusiasts, without any verification, or hint of similar experience."] charles darwin to herbert spencer. bassett, southampton, june , [ ]. dear spencer, i dare say you will think me a foolish fellow, but i cannot resist the wish to express my unbounded admiration of your article ('mr. martineau on evolution,' by herbert spencer, 'contemporary review,' july .) in answer to mr. martineau. it is, indeed, admirable, and hardly less so your second article on sociology (which, however, i have not yet finished): i never believed in the reigning influence of great men on the world's progress; but if asked why i did not believe, i should have been sorely perplexed to have given a good answer. every one with eyes to see and ears to hear (the number, i fear, are not many) ought to bow their knee to you, and i for one do. believe me, yours most sincerely, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, july [ ]. my dear hooker, i must exhale and express my joy at the way in which the newspapers have taken up your case. i have seen the "times", the "daily news", and the "pall mall", and hear that others have taken up the case. the memorial has done great good this way, whatever may be the result in the action of our wretched government. on my soul, it is enough to make one turn into an old honest tory... if you answer this, i shall be sorry that i have relieved my feelings by writing. yours affectionately, c. darwin. [the memorial here referred to was addressed to mr. gladstone, and was signed by a number of distinguished men, including sir charles lyell, mr. bentham, mr. huxley, and sir james paget. it gives a complete account of the arbitrary and unjust treatment received by sir j.d. hooker at the hands of his official chief, the first commissioner of works. the document is published in full in 'nature' (july , ), and is well worth studying as an example of the treatment which it is possible for science to receive from officialism. as 'nature' observes, it is a paper which must be read with the greatest indignation by scientific men in every part of the world, and with shame by all englishmen. the signatories of the memorial conclude by protesting against the expected consequences of sir joseph hooker's persecution--namely his resignation, and the loss of "a man honoured for his integrity, beloved for his courtesy and kindliness of heart; and who has spent in the public service not only a stainless but an illustrious life." happily this misfortune was averted, and sir joseph was freed from further molestation.] charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, august [ ]. my dear wallace, i hate controversy, chiefly perhaps because i do it badly; but as dr. bree accuses you (mr. wallace had reviewed dr. bree's book, 'an exposition of fallacies in the hypothesis of mr. darwin,' in 'nature,' july , .) of "blundering," i have thought myself bound to send the enclosed letter (the letter is as follows:--"bree on darwinism." 'nature,' august , . permit me to state--though the statement is almost superfluous--that mr. wallace, in his review of dr. bree's work, gives with perfect correctness what i intended to express, and what i believe was expressed clearly, with respect to the probable position of man in the early part of his pedigree. as i have not seen dr. bree's recent work, and as his letter is unintelligible to me, i cannot even conjecture how he has so completely mistaken my meaning: but, perhaps, no one who has read mr. wallace's article, or who has read a work formerly published by dr. bree on the same subject as his recent one, will be surprised at any amount of misunderstanding on his part.--charles darwin. august .) to 'nature,' that is if you in the least desire it. in this case please post it. if you do not at all wish it, i should rather prefer not sending it, and in this case please to tear it up. and i beg you to do the same, if you intend answering dr. bree yourself, as you will do it incomparably better than i should. also please tear it up if you don't like the letter. my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. down, august , . my dear wallace, i have at last finished the gigantic job of reading dr. bastian's book ('the beginnings of life.' h.c. bastian, .) and have been deeply interested by it. you wished to hear my impression, but it is not worth sending. he seems to me an extremely able man, as, indeed, i thought when i read his first essay. his general argument in favour of archebiosis (that is to say, spontaneous generation. for the distinction between archebiosis and heterogenesis, see bastian, chapter vi.) is wonderfully strong, though i cannot think much of some few of his arguments. the result is that i am bewildered and astonished by his statements, but am not convinced, though, on the whole, it seems to me probable that archebiosis is true. i am not convinced, partly i think owing to the deductive cast of much of his reasoning; and i know not why, but i never feel convinced by deduction, even in the case of h. spencer's writings. if dr. bastian's book had been turned upside down, and he had begun with the various cases of heterogenesis, and then gone on to organic, and afterwards to saline solutions, and had then given his general arguments, i should have been, i believe, much more influenced. i suspect, however, that my chief difficulty is the effect of old convictions being stereotyped on my brain. i must have more evidence that germs, or the minutest fragments of the lowest forms, are always killed by degrees of fahr. perhaps the mere reiteration of the statements given by dr. bastian [by] other men, whose judgment i respect, and who have worked long on the lower organisms, would suffice to convince me. here is a fine confession of intellectual weakness; but what an inexplicable frame of mind is that of belief! as for rotifers and tardigrades being spontaneously generated, my mind can no more digest such statements, whether true or false, than my stomach can digest a lump of lead. dr. bastian is always comparing archebiosis, as well as growth, to crystallisation; but, on this view, a rotifer or tardigrade is adapted to its humble conditions of life by a happy accident, and this i cannot believe... he must have worked with very impure materials in some cases, as plenty of organisms appeared in a saline solution not containing an atom of nitrogen. i wholly disagree with dr. bastian about many points in his latter chapters. thus the frequency of generalised forms in the older strata seems to me clearly to indicate the common descent with divergence of more recent forms. notwithstanding all his sneers, i do not strike my colours as yet about pangenesis. i should like to live to see archebiosis proved true, for it would be a discovery of transcendent importance; or, if false, i should like to see it disproved, and the facts otherwise explained; but i shall not live to see all this. if ever proved, dr. bastian will have taken a prominent part in the work. how grand is the onward rush of science; it is enough to console us for the many errors which we have committed, and for our efforts being overlaid and forgotten in the mass of new facts and new views which are daily turning up. this is all i have to say about dr. bastian's book, and it certainly has not been worth saying... charles darwin to a. de candolle. down, december , . my dear sir, i began reading your new book ('histoire des sciences et des savants.' .) sooner than i intended, and when i once began, i could not stop; and now you must allow me to thank you for the very great pleasure which it has given me. i have hardly ever read anything more original and interesting than your treatment of the causes which favour the development of scientific men. the whole was quite new to me, and most curious. when i began your essay i was afraid that you were going to attack the principle of inheritance in relation to mind, but i soon found myself fully content to follow you and accept your limitations. i have felt, of course, special interest in the latter part of your work, but there was here less novelty to me. in many parts you do me much honour, and everywhere more than justice. authors generally like to hear what points most strike different readers, so i will mention that of your shorter essays, that on the future prevalence of languages, and on vaccination interested me the most, as, indeed, did that on statistics, and free will. great liability to certain diseases, being probably liable to atavism, is quite a new idea to me. at page you suggest that a young swallow ought to be separated, and then let loose in order to test the power of instinct; but nature annually performs this experiment, as old cuckoos migrate in england some weeks before the young birds of the same year. by the way, i have just used the forbidden word "nature," which, after reading your essay, i almost determined never to use again. there are very few remarks in your book to which i demur, but when you back up asa gray in saying that all instincts are congenital habits, i must protest. finally, will you permit me to ask you a question: have you yourself, or some one who can be quite trusted, observed (page ) that the butterflies on the alps are tamer than those on the lowlands? do they belong to the same species? has this fact been observed with more than one species? are they brightly coloured kinds? i am especially curious about their alighting on the brightly coloured parts of ladies' dresses, more especially because i have been more than once assured that butterflies like bright colours, for instance, in india the scarlet leaves of poinsettia. once again allow me to thank you for having sent me your work, and for the very unusual amount of pleasure which i have received in reading it. with much respect, i remain, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [the last revise of the 'expression of the emotions' was finished on august nd, , and he wrote in his diary:--"has taken me about twelve months." as usual he had no belief in the possibility of the book being generally successful. the following passage in a letter to haeckel gives the impression that he had felt the writing of this book as a somewhat severe strain:-- "i have finished my little book on 'expression,' and when it is published in november i will of course send you a copy, in case you would like to read it for amusement. i have resumed some old botanical work, and perhaps i shall never again attempt to discuss theoretical views. "i am growing old and weak, and no man can tell when his intellectual powers begin to fail. long life and happiness to you for your own sake and for that of science." it was published in the autumn. the edition consisted of , and of these copies were sold at mr. murray's sale in november. two thousand were printed at the end of the year, and this proved a misfortune, as they did not afterwards sell so rapidly, and thus a mass of notes collected by the author was never employed for a second edition during his lifetime. among the reviews of the 'expression of the emotions' may be mentioned the unfavourable notices in the "athenaeum", november , , and the "times", december , . a good review by mr. wallace appeared in the 'quarterly journal of science,' january . mr. wallace truly remarks that the book exhibits certain "characteristics of the author's mind in an eminent degree," namely, "the insatiable longing to discover the causes of the varied and complex phenomena presented by living things." he adds that in the case of the author "the restless curiosity of the child to know the 'what for?' the 'why?' and the 'how?' of everything" seems "never to have abated its force." a writer in one of the theological reviews describes the book as the most "powerful and insidious" of all the author's works. professor alexander bain criticised the book in a postscript to the 'senses and the intellect;' to this essay the following letter refers:] charles darwin to alexander bain. down, october , . my dear sir, i am particularly obliged to you for having send me your essay. your criticisms are all written in a quite fair spirit, and indeed no one who knows you or your works would expect anything else. what you say about the vagueness of what i have called the direct action of the nervous system, is perfectly just. i felt it so at the time, and even more of late. i confess that i have never been able fully to grasp your principle of spontaneity, as well as some other of your points, so as to apply them to special cases. but as we look at everything from different points of view, it is not likely that we should agree closely. (professor bain expounded his theory of spontaneity in the essay here alluded to. it would be impossible to do justice to it within the limits of a foot-note. the following quotations may give some notion of it:-- "by spontaneity i understand the readiness to pass into movement in the absence of all stimulation whatever; the essential requisite being that the nerve-centres and muscles shall be fresh and vigorous... the gesticulations and the carols of young and active animals are mere overflow of nervous energy; and although they are very apt to concur with pleasing emotion, they have an independent source... they are not properly movements of expression; they express nothing at all except an abundant stock of physical power.") i have been greatly pleased by what you say about the crying expression and about blushing. did you read a review in a late 'edinburgh?' (the review on the 'expression of the emotions' appeared in the april number of the 'edinburgh review,' . the opening sentence is a fair sample of the general tone of the article: "mr. darwin has added another volume of amusing stories and grotesque illustrations to the remarkable series of works already devoted to the exposition and defence of the evolutionary hypothesis." a few other quotations may be worth giving. "his one-sided devotion to an a priori scheme of interpretation seems thus steadily tending to impair the author's hitherto unrivalled powers as an observer. however this may be, most impartial critics will, we think, admit that there is a marked falling off both in philosophical tone and scientific interest in the works produced since mr. darwin committed himself to the crude metaphysical conception so largely associated with his name." the article is directed against evolution as a whole, almost as much as against the doctrines of the book under discussion. we find throughout plenty of that effective style of criticism which consists in the use of such expressions as "dogmatism," "intolerance," "presumptuous," "arrogant." together with accusations of such various faults a "virtual abandonment of the inductive method," and the use of slang and vulgarisms. the part of the article which seems to have interested my father is the discussion on the use which he ought to have made of painting and sculpture.) it was magnificently contemptuous towards myself and many others. i retain a very pleasant recollection of our sojourn together at that delightful place, moor park. with my renewed thanks, i remain, my dear sir, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to mrs. haliburton. (mrs. haliburton was a daughter of my father's old friend, mr. owen of woodhouse. her husband, judge haliburton, was the well-known author of 'sam slick.') down, november [ ]. my dear mrs. haliburton, i dare say you will be surprised to hear from me. my object in writing now is to say that i have just published a book on the 'expression of the emotions in man and animals;' and it has occurred to me that you might possibly like to read some parts of it; and i can hardly think that this would have been the case with any of the books which i have already published. so i send by this post my present book. although i have had no communication with you or the other members of your family for so long a time, no scenes in my whole life pass so frequently or so vividly before my mind as those which relate to happy old days spent at woodhouse. i should very much like to hear a little news about yourself and the other members of your family, if you will take the trouble to write to me. formerly i used to glean some news about you from my sisters. i have had many years of bad health and have not been able to visit anywhere; and now i feel very old. as long as i pass a perfectly uniform life, i am able to do some daily work in natural history, which is still my passion, as it was in old days, when you used to laugh at me for collecting beetles with such zeal at woodhouse. excepting from my continued il-health, which has excluded me from society, my life has been a very happy one; the greatest drawback being that several of my children have inherited from me feeble health. i hope with all my heart that you retain, at least to a large extent, the famous "owen constitution." with sincere feelings of gratitude and affection for all bearing the name of owen, i venture to sign myself, yours affectionately, charles darwin. charles darwin to mrs. haliburton. down, november [ ]. my dear sarah, i have been very much pleased by your letter, which i must call charming. i hardly ventured to think that you would have retained a friendly recollection of me for so many years. yet i ought to have felt assured that you would remain as warm-hearted and as true-hearted as you have ever been from my earliest recollection. i know well how many grievous sorrows you have gone through; but i am very sorry to hear that your health is not good. in the spring or summer, when the weather is better, if you can summon up courage to pay us a visit here, both my wife, as she desires me to say, and myself, would be truly glad to see you, and i know that you would not care about being rather dull here. it would be a real pleasure to me to see you.--thank you much for telling about your family,--much of which was new to me. how kind you all were to me as a boy, and you especially, and how much happiness i owe to you. believe me your affectionate and obliged friend, charles darwin. p.s.--perhaps you would like to see a photograph of me now that i am old. . [the only work (other than botanical) of this year was the preparation of a second edition of the 'descent of man,' the publication of which is referred to in the following chapter. this work was undertaken much against the grain, as he was at the time deeply immersed in the manuscript of 'insectivorous plants.' thus he wrote to mr. wallace (november ), "i never in my lifetime regretted an interruption so much as this new edition of the 'descent.'" and later (in december) he wrote to mr. huxley: "the new edition of the 'descent' has turned out an awful job. it took me ten days merely to glance over letters and reviews with criticisms and new facts. it is a devil of a job." the work was continued until april , , when he was able to return to his much loved drosera. he wrote to mr. murray:-- "i have at last finished, after above three months as hard work as i have ever had in my life, a corrected edition of the 'descent,' and i much wish to have it printed off as soon as possible. as it is to be stereotyped i shall never touch it again." the first of the miscellaneous letters of refers to a pleasant visit received from colonel higginson of newport, u.s.] charles darwin to thos. wentworth higginson. down, february th [ ]. my dear sir, my wife has just finished reading aloud your 'life with a black regiment,' and you must allow me to thank you heartily for the very great pleasure which it has in many ways given us. i always thought well of the negroes, from the little which i have seen of them; and i have been delighted to have my vague impressions confirmed, and their character and mental powers so ably discussed. when you were here i did not know of the noble position which you had filled. i had formerly read about the black regiments, but failed to connect your name with your admirable undertaking. although we enjoyed greatly your visit to down, my wife and myself have over and over again regretted that we did not know about the black regiment, as we should have greatly liked to have heard a little about the south from your own lips. your descriptions have vividly recalled walks taken forty years ago in brazil. we have your collected essays, which were kindly sent us by mr. [moncure] conway, but have not yet had time to read them. i occasionally glean a little news of you in the 'index'; and within the last hour have read an interesting article of yours on the progress of free thought. believe me, my dear sir, with sincere admiration, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. [on may th he sent the following answers to the questions that mr. galton was at that time addressing to various scientific men, in the course of the inquiry which is given in his 'english men of science, their nature and nurture,' . with regard to the questions my father wrote, "i have filled up the answers as well as i could, but it is simply impossible for me to estimate the degrees." for the sake of convenience, the questions and answers relating to "nurture" are made to precede those on "nature": nurture. education? how taught? i consider that all i have learnt of any value has been sel-taught. conducive to or restrictive of habits of observation? restrictive of observation, being almost entirely classical. conducive to health or otherwise? yes. peculiar merits? none whatever. chief omissions? no mathematics or modern languages, nor any habits of observation or reasoning. religion. has the religious creed taught in your youth had any deterrent effect on the freedom of your researches? no. scientific tastes. do your scientific tastes appear to have been innate? certainly innate. were they determined by any and what events? my innate taste for natural history strongly confirmed and directed by the voyage in the "beagle". nature. specify any interests that have been very actively pursued. science, and field sports to a passionate degree during youth. (c.d. = charles darwin, r.d. = robert darwin, his father.) religion? c.d.--nominally to church of england. r.d.--nominally to church of england. politics? c.d.--liberal or radical. r.d.--liberal. health? c.d.--good when young--bad for last years. r.d.--good throughout life, except from gout. height, etc? c.d.-- ft. figure, etc.?--spare, whilst young rather stout. measurement round inside of hat?-- / in. colour of hair?--brown. complexion?--rather sallow. r.d.-- ft. in. figure, etc?--very broad and corpulent. colour of hair? --brown. complexion?--ruddy. temperament? c.d.--somewhat nervous. r.d.--sanguine. energy of body, etc.? c.d.--energy shown by much activity, and whilst i had health, power of resisting fatigue. i and one other man were alone able to fetch water for a large party of officers and sailors utterly prostrated. some of my expeditions in s. america were adventurous. an early riser in the morning. r.d.--great power of endurance although feeling much fatigue, as after consultations after long journeys; very active--not restless--very early riser, no travels. my father said his father suffered much from sense of fatigue, that he worked very hard. energy of mind, etc.? c.d.--shown by rigorous and long-continued work on same subject, as years on the 'origin of species,' and years on 'cirripedia.' r.d.--habitually very active mind--shown in conversation with a succession of people during the whole day. memory? c.d.--memory very bad for dates, and for learning by rote; but good in retaining a general or vague recollection of many facts. r.d.--wonderful memory for dates. in old age he told a person, reading aloud to him a book only read in youth, the passages which were coming--knew the birthdays and death, etc., of all friends and acquaintances. studiousness? c.d.--very studious, but not large acquirements. r.d.--not very studious or mentally receptive, except for facts in conversation--great collector of anecdotes. independence of judgment? c.d.--i think fairly independent; but i can give no instances. i gave up common religious belief almost independently from my own reflections. r.d.--free thinker in religious matters. liberal, with rather a tendency to toryism. originality or eccentricity? c.d.-- -- thinks this applies to me; i do not think so--i.e., as far as eccentricity. i suppose that i have shown originality in science, as i have made discoveries with regard to common objects. r.d.--original character, had great personal influence and power of producing fear of himself in others. he kept his accounts with great care in a peculiar way, in a number of separate little books, without any general ledger. special talents? c.d.--none, except for business as evinced by keeping accounts, replies to correspondence, and investing money very well. very methodical in all my habits. r.d.--practical business--made a large fortune and incurred no losses. strongly marked mental peculiarities, bearing on scientific success, and not specified above? c.d.--steadiness--great curiosity about facts and their meaning. some love of the new and marvellous. r.d.--strong social affection and great sympathy in the pleasures of others. sceptical as to new things. curious as to facts. great foresight. not much public spirit--great generosity in giving money and assistance. n.b.--i find it quite impossible to estimate my character by your degrees. the following letter refers inter alia to a letter which appeared in 'nature' (september , ), "on the males and complemental males of certain cirripedes, and on rudimentary organs:"] charles darwin to e. haeckel. down, september , . my dear haeckel, i thank you for the present of your book ('schopfungs-geschichte,' th edition. the translation ('the history of creation') was not published until .), and i am heartily glad to see its great success. you will do a wonderful amount of good in spreading the doctrine of evolution, supporting it as you do by so many original observations. i have read the new preface with very great interest. the delay in the appearance of the english translation vexes and surprises me, for i have never been able to read it thoroughly in german, and i shall assuredly do so when it appears in english. has the problem of the later stages of reduction of useless structures ever perplexed you? this problem has of late caused me much perplexity. i have just written a letter to 'nature' with a hypothetical explanation of this difficulty, and i will send you the paper with the passage marked. i will at the same time send a paper which has interested me; it need not be returned. it contains a singular statement bearing on so-called spontaneous generation. i much wish that this latter question could be settled, but i see no prospect of it. if it could be proved true this would be most important to us... wishing you every success in your admirable labours, i remain, my dear haeckel, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. chapter .viii. -- miscellanea including second editions of 'coral reefs,' the 'descent of man,' and the 'variation of animals and plants.' and . [the year was given up to 'insectivorous plants,' with the exception of the months devoted to the second edition of the 'descent of man,' and with the further exception of the time given to a second edition of his 'coral reefs' ( ). the preface to the latter states that new facts have been added, the whole book revised, and "the latter chapters almost rewritten." in the appendix some account is given of professor semper's objections, and this was the occasion of correspondence between that naturalist and my father. in professor semper's volume, 'animal life' (one of the international series), the author calls attention to the subject in the following passage which i give in german, the published english translation being, as it seems to me, incorrect: "es scheint mir als ob er in der zweiten ausgabe seines allgemein bekannten werks uber korallenriffe einem irrthume uber meine beobachtungen zum opfer gefallen ist, indem er die angaben, die ich allerdings bisher immer nur sehr kurz gehalten hatte, vollstandig falsch wiedergegeben hat." the proof-sheets containing this passage were sent by professor semper to my father before 'animal life' was published, and this was the occasion for the following letter, which was afterwards published in professor semper's book.] charles darwin to k. semper. down, october , . my dear professor semper, i thank you for your extremely kind letter of the th, and for the proo-sheets. i believe that i understand all, excepting one or two sentences, where my imperfect knowledge of german has interfered. this is my sole and poor excuse for the mistake which i made in the second edition of my 'coral' book. your account of the pellew islands is a fine addition to our knowledge on coral reefs. i have very little to say on the subject, even if i had formerly read your account and seen your maps, but had known nothing of the proofs of recent elevation, and of your belief that the islands have not since subsided. i have no doubt that i should have considered them as formed during subsidence. but i should have been much troubled in my mind by the sea not being so deep as it usually is round atolls, and by the reef on one side sloping so gradually beneath the sea; for this latter fact, as far as my memory serves me, is a very unusual and almost unparalleled case. i always foresaw that a bank at the proper depth beneath the surface would give rise to a reef which could not be distinguished from an atoll, formed during subsidence. i must still adhere to my opinion that the atolls and barrier reefs in the middle of the pacific and indian oceans indicate subsidence; but i fully agree with you that such cases as that of the pellew islands, if of at all frequent occurrence, would make my general conclusions of very little value. future observers must decide between us. it will be a strange fact if there has not been subsidence of the beds of the great oceans, and if this has not affected the forms of the coral reefs. in the last three pages of the last sheet sent i am extremely glad to see that you are going to treat of the dispersion of animals. your preliminary remarks seem to me quite excellent. there is nothing about m. wagner, as i expected to find. i suppose that you have seen moseley's last book, which contains some good observations on dispersion. i am glad that your book will appear in english, for then i can read it with ease. pray believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [the most recent criticism on the coral-reef theory is by mr. murray, one of the staff of the "challenger", who read a paper before the royal society of edinburgh, april , . (an abstract is published in volume x. of the 'proceedings,' page , and in 'nature,' august , .) the chief point brought forward is the possibility of the building up of submarine mountains, which may serve as foundations for coral reefs. mr. murray also seeks to prove that "the chief features of coral reefs and islands can be accounted for without calling in the aid of great and general subsidence." the following letter refers to this subject:] charles darwin to a. agassiz. down, may , . ... you will have seen mr. murray's views on the formation of atolls and barrier reefs. before publishing my book, i thought long over the same view, but only as far as ordinary marine organisms are concerned, for at that time little was known of the multitude of minute oceanic organisms. i rejected this view, as from the few dredgings made in the "beagle", in the south temperate regions, i concluded that shells, the smaller corals, etc., decayed, and were dissolved, when not protected by the deposition of sediment, and sediment could not accumulate in the open ocean. certainly, shells, etc., were in several cases completely rotten, and crumbled into mud between my fingers; but you will know well whether this is in any degree common. i have expressly said that a bank at the proper depth would give rise to an atoll, which could not be distinguished from one formed during subsidence. i can, however, hardly believe in the former presence of as many banks (there having been no subsidence) as there are atolls in the great oceans, within a reasonable depth, on which minute oceanic organisms could have accumulated to the thickness of many hundred feet... pray forgive me for troubling you at such length, but it has occurred [to me] that you might be disposed to give, after your wide experience, your judgment. if i am wrong, the sooner i am knocked on the head and annihilated so much the better. it still seems to me a marvellous thing that there should not have been much, and long continued, subsidence in the beds of the great oceans. i wish that some doubly rich millionaire would take it into his head to have borings made in some of the pacific and indian atolls, and bring home cores for slicing from a depth of or feet... [the second edition of the 'descent of man' was published in the autumn of . some severe remarks on the "monistic hypothesis" appeared in the july (the review necessarily deals with the first edition of the 'descent of man.') number of the 'quarterly review' (page ). the reviewer expresses his astonishment at the ignorance of certain elementary distinctions and principles (e.g. with regard to the verbum mentale) exhibited, among others, by mr. darwin, who does not exhibit the faintest indication of having grasped them, yet a clear perception of them, and a direct and detailed examination of his facts with regard to them, "was a sine qua non for attempting, with a chance of success, the solution of the mystery as to the descent of man." some further criticisms of a later date may be here alluded to. in the 'academy,' (pages , ), appeared a review of mr. mivart's 'lessons from nature,' by mr. wallace. when considering the part of mr. mivart's book relating to natural and sexual selection, mr. wallace says: "in his violent attack on mr. darwin's theories our author uses unusually strong language. not content with mere argument, he expresses 'reprobation of mr. darwin's views'; and asserts that though he (mr. darwin) has been obliged, virtually, to give up his theory, it is still maintained by darwinians with 'unscrupulous audacity,' and the actual repudiation of it concealed by the 'conspiracy of silence.'" mr. wallace goes on to show that these charges are without foundation, and points out that, "if there is one thing more than another for which mr. darwin is pre-eminent among modern literary and scientific men, it is for his perfect literary honesty, his self-abnegation in confessing himself wrong, and the eager haste with which he proclaims and even magnifies small errors in his works, for the most part discovered by himself." the following extract from a letter to mr. wallace (june th) refers to mr. mivart's statement ('lessons from nature,' page ) that mr. darwin at first studiously disguised his views as to the "bestiality of man":-- "i have only just heard of and procured your two articles in the academy. i thank you most cordially for your generous defence of me against mr. mivart. in the 'origin' i did not discuss the derivation of any one species; but that i might not be accused of concealing my opinion, i went out of my way, and inserted a sentence which seemed to me (and still so seems) to disclose plainly my belief. this was quoted in my 'descent of man.' therefore it is very unjust,... of mr. mivart to accuse me of base fraudulent concealment." the letter which here follows is of interest in connection with the discussion, in the 'descent of man,' on the origin of the musical sense in man:] charles darwin to e. gurney. (author of 'the power of sound.') down, july , . my dear mr. gurney, i have read your article ("some disputed points in music."--'fortnightly review,' july, .) with much interest, except the latter part, which soared above my ken. i am greatly pleased that you uphold my views to a certain extent. your criticism of the rasping noise made by insects being necessarily rhythmical is very good; but though not made intentionally, it may be pleasing to the females from the nerve cells being nearly similar in function throughout the animal kingdom. with respect to your letter, i believe that i understand your meaning, and agree with you. i never supposed that the different degrees and kinds of pleasure derived from different music could be explained by the musical powers of our semi-human progenitors. does not the fact that different people belonging to the same civilised nation are very differently affected by the same music, almost show that these diversities of taste and pleasure have been acquired during their individual lives? your simile of architecture seems to me particularly good; for in this case the appreciation almost must be individual, though possibly the sense of sublimity excited by a grand cathedral, may have some connection with the vague feelings of terror and superstition in our savage ancestors, when they entered a great cavern or gloomy forest. i wish some one could analyse the feeling of sublimity. it amuses me to think how horrified some high flying aesthetic men will be at your encouraging such low degraded views as mine. believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [the letters which follow are of a miscellaneous interest. the first extract (from a letter, january , ) refers to a spiritualistic seance, held at erasmus darwin's house, queen anne street, under the auspices of a well-known medium:] "... we had grand fun, one afternoon, for george hired a medium, who made the chairs, a flute, a bell, and candlestick, and fiery points jump about in my brother's diningroom, in a manner that astounded every one, and took away all their breaths. it was in the dark, but george and hensleigh wedgwood held the medium's hands and feet on both sides all the time. i found it so hot and tiring that i went away before all these astounding miracles, or jugglery, took place. how the man could possibly do what was done passes my understanding. i came downstairs, and saw all the chairs, etc., on the table, which had been lifted over the heads of those sitting round it. the lord have mercy on us all, if we have to believe in such rubbish. f. galton was there, and says it was a good seance..." the seance in question led to a smaller and more carefully organised one being undertaken, at which mr. huxley was present, and on which he reported to my father:] charles darwin to professor t.h. huxley. down, january [ ]. my dear huxley, it was very good of you to write so long an account. though the seance did tire you so much it was, i think, really worth the exertion, as the same sort of things are done at all the seances, even at --'s; and now to my mind an enormous weight of evidence would be requisite to make one believe in anything beyond mere trickery... i am pleased to think that i declared to all my family, the day before yesterday, that the more i thought of all that i had heard happened at queen anne st., the more convinced i was it was all imposture... my theory was that [the medium] managed to get the two men on each side of him to hold each other's hands, instead of his, and that he was thus free to perform his antics. i am very glad that i issued my ukase to you to attend. yours affectionately, ch. darwin. [in the spring of this year ( ) he read a book which gave him great pleasure and of which he often spoke with admiration:--'the naturalist in nicaragua,' by the late thomas belt. mr. belt, whose untimely death may well be deplored by naturalists, was by profession an engineer, so that all his admirable observations in natural history in nicaragua and elsewhere were the fruit of his leisure. the book is direct and vivid in style and is full of description and suggestive discussions. with reference to it my father wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "belt i have read, and i am delighted that you like it so much, it appears to me the best of all natural history journals which have ever been published."] charles darwin to the marquis de saporta. down, may , . dear sir, i have been very neglectful in not having sooner thanked you for your kindness in having sent me your 'etudes sur la vegetation,' etc., and other memoirs. i have read several of them with very great interest, and nothing can be more important, in my opinion, than your evidence of the extremely slow and gradual manner in which specific forms change. i observe that m. a. de candolle has lately quoted you on this head versus heer. i hope that you may be able to throw light on the question whether such protean, or polymorphic forms, as those of rubus, hieracium, etc., at the present day, are those which generate new species; as for myself, i have always felt some doubt on this head. i trust that you may soon bring many of your countrymen to believe in evolution, and my name will then perhaps cease to be scorned. with the most sincere respect, i remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, ch. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, june [ ]. my dear gray, i have now read your article (the article, "charles darwin," in the series of "scientific worthies" ('nature,' june , ). this admirable estimate of my father's work in science is given in the form of a comparison and contrast between robert brown and charles darwin.) in 'nature,' and the last two paragraphs were not included in the slip sent before. i wrote yesterday and cannot remember exactly what i said, and now cannot be easy without again telling you how profoundly i have been gratified. every one, i suppose, occasionally thinks that he has worked in vain, and when one of these fits overtakes me, i will think of your article, and if that does not dispel the evil spirit, i shall know that i am at the time a little bit insane, as we all are occasionally. what you say about teleology ("let us recognise darwin's great service to natural science in bringing back to it teleology: so that instead of morphology versus teleology, we shall have morphology wedded to teleology.") pleases me especially, and i do not think any one else has ever noticed the point. (see, however, mr. huxley's chapter on the 'reception of the origin of species' in volume i.) i have always said you were the man to hit the nail on the head. yours gratefully and affectionately, ch. darwin. [as a contribution to the history of the reception of the 'origin of species,' the meeting of the british association in , at belfast, should be mentioned. it is memorable for professor tyndall's brilliant presidential address, in which a sketch of the history of evolution is given culminating in an eloquent analysis of the 'origin of species,' and of the nature of its great success. with regard to prof. tyndall's address, lyell wrote ('life,' ii. page ) congratulating my father on the meeting, "on which occasion you and your theory of evolution may be fairly said to have had an ovation." in the same letter sir charles speaks of a paper (on the ancient volcanoes of the highlands, 'journal of geological soc.,' .) of professor judd's, and it is to this that the following letter refers:] charles darwin to c. lyell. down, september , . my dear lyell, i suppose that you have returned, or will soon return, to london (sir charles lyell returned from scotland towards the end of september.); and, i hope, reinvigorated by your outing. in your last letter you spoke of mr. judd's paper on the volcanoes of the hebrides. i have just finished it, and to ease my mind must express my extreme admiration. it is years since i have read a purely geological paper which has interested me so greatly. i was all the more interested, as in the cordillera i often speculated on the sources of the deluges of submarine porphyritic lavas, of which they are built; and, as i have stated, i saw to a certain extent the causes of the obliteration of the points of eruption. i was also not a little pleased to see my volcanic book quoted, for i thought it was completely dead and forgotten. what fine work will mr. judd assuredly do!... now i have eased my mind; and so farewell, with both e.d.'s and c.d.'s very kind remembrances to miss lyell. yours affectionately, charles darwin. [sir charles lyell's reply to the above letter must have been one of the latest that my father received from his old friend, and it is with this letter that the volumes of his published correspondence closes.] charles darwin to aug. forel. down, october , . my dear sir, i have now read the whole of your admirable work ('les fourmis de la suisse,' to, .) and seldom in my life have i been more interested by any book. there are so many interesting facts and discussions, that i hardly know which to specify; but i think, firstly, the newest points to me have been about the size of the brain in the three sexes, together with your suggestion that increase of mind power may have led to the sterility of the workers. secondly about the battles of the ants, and your curious account of the enraged ants being held by their comrades until they calmed down. thirdly, the evidence of ants of the same community being the offspring of brothers and sisters. you admit, i think, that new communities will often be the product of a cross between not-related ants. fritz muller has made some interesting observations on this head with respect to termites. the case of anergates is most perplexing in many ways, but i have such faith in the law of occasional crossing that i believe an explanation will hereafter be found, such as the dimorphism of either sex and the occasional production of winged males. i see that you are puzzled how ants of the same community recognize each other; i once placed two (f. rufa) in a pill-box smelling strongly of asafoetida and after a day returned them to their homes; they were threatened, but at last recognized. i made the trial thinking that they might know each other by their odour; but this cannot have been the case, and i have often fancied that they must have some common signal. your last chapter is one great mass of wonderful facts and suggestions, and the whole profoundly interesting. i have seldom been more gratified than by [your] honourable mention of my work. i should like to tell you one little observation which i made with care many years ago; i saw ants (formica rufa) carrying cocoons from a nest which was the largest i ever saw and which was well-known to all the country people near, and an old man, apparently about eighty years of age, told me that he had known it ever since he was a boy. the ants carrying the cocoons did not appear to be emigrating; following the line, i saw many ascending a tall fir tree still carrying their cocoons. but when i looked closely i found that all the cocoons were empty cases. this astonished me, and next day i got a man to observe with me, and we again saw ants bringing empty cocoons out of the nest; each of us fixed on one ant and slowly followed it, and repeated the observation on many others. we thus found that some ants soon dropped their empty cocoons; others carried them for many yards, as much as thirty paces, and others carried them high up the fir tree out of sight. now here i think we have one instinct in contest with another and mistaken one. the first instinct being to carry the empty cocoons out of the nest, and it would have been sufficient to have laid them on the heap of rubbish, as the first breath of wind would have blown them away. and then came in the contest with the other very powerful instinct of preserving and carrying their cocoons as long as possible; and this they could not help doing although the cocoons were empty. according as the one or other instinct was the stronger in each individual ant, so did it carry the empty cocoon to a greater or less distance. if this little observation should ever prove of any use to you, you are quite at liberty to use it. again thanking you cordially for the great pleasure which your work has given me, i remain with much respect, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--if you read english easily i should like to send you mr. belt's book, as i think you would like it as much as did fritz muller. charles darwin to j. fiske. down, december , . my dear sir, you must allow me to thank you for the very great interest with which i have at last slowly read the whole of your work. ('outlines of cosmic philosophy,' volumes, vo. .) i have long wished to know something about the views of the many great men whose doctrines you give. with the exception of special points i did not even understand h. spencer's general doctrine; for his style is too hard work for me. i never in my life read so lucid an expositor (and therefore thinker) as you are; and i think that i understand nearly the whole--perhaps less clearly about cosmic theism and causation than other parts. it is hopeless to attempt out of so much to specify what has interested me most, and probably you would not care to hear. i wish some chemist would attempt to ascertain the result of the cooling of heated gases of the proper kinds, in relation to your hypothesis of the origin of living matter. it pleased me to find that here and there i had arrived from my own crude thoughts at some of the same conclusions with you; though i could seldom or never have given my reasons for such conclusions. i find that my mind is so fixed by the inducive method, that i cannot appreciate deductive reasoning: i must begin with a good body of facts and not from a principle (in which i always suspect some fallacy) and then as much deduction as you please. this may be very narrow-minded; but the result is that such parts of h. spencer, as i have read with care impress my mind with the idea of his inexhaustible wealth of suggestion, but never convince me; and so i find it with some others. i believe the cause to lie in the frequency with which i have found first-formed theories [to be] erroneous. i thank you for the honourable mention which you make of my works. parts of the 'descent of man' must have appeared laughably weak to you: nevertheless, i have sent you a new edition just published. thanking you for the profound interest and profit with which i have read your work. i remain, my dear sir, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. . [the only work, not purely botanical, which occupied my father in the present year was the correction of the second edition of 'the variation of animals and plants,' and on this he was engaged from the beginning of july till october rd. the rest of the year was taken up with his work on insectivorous plants, and on cross-fertilisation, as will be shown in a later chapter. the chief alterations in the second edition of 'animals and plants' are in the eleventh chapter on "bud-variation and on certain anomalous modes of reproduction;" the chapter on pangenesis "was also largely altered and remodelled." he mentions briefly some of the authors who have noticed the doctrine. professor delpino's 'sulla darwiniana teoria della pangenesi' ( ), an adverse but fair criticism, seems to have impressed him as valuable. of another critique my father characteristically says ('animals and plants,' nd edition volume ii. page .), "dr. lionel beale ('nature,' may , , page ) sneers at the whole doctrine with much acerbity and some justice." he also points out that, in mantegazza's 'elementi di igiene,' the theory of pangenesis was clearly foreseen. in connection with this subject, a letter of my father's to 'nature' (april , ) should be mentioned. a paper by mr. galton had been read before the royal society (march , ) in which were described experiments, on intertransfusion of blood, designed to test the truth of the hypothesis of pangenesis. my father, while giving all due credit to mr. galton for his ingenious experiments, does not allow that pangenesis has "as yet received its death-blow, though from presenting so many vulnerable points its life is always in jeopardy." he seems to have found the work of correcting very wearisome, for he wrote:-- "i have no news about myself, as i am merely slaving over the sickening work of preparing new editions. i wish i could get a touch of poor lyell's feelings, that it was delightful to improve a sentence, like a painter improving a picture." the feeling of effort or strain over this piece of work, is shown in a letter to professor haeckel:-- "what i shall do in future if i live, heaven only knows; i ought perhaps to avoid general and large subjects, as too difficult for me with my advancing years, and i suppose enfeebled brain." at the end of march, in this year, the portrait for which he was sitting to mr. ouless was finished. he felt the sittings a great fatigue, in spite of mr. ouless's considerate desire to spare him as far as was possible. in a letter to sir j.d. hooker he wrote, "i look a very venerable, acute, melancholy old dog; whether i really look so i do not know." the picture is in the possession of the family, and is known to many through m. rajon's etching. mr. ouless's portrait is, in my opinion, the finest representation of my father that has been produced. the following letter refers to the death of sir charles lyell, which took place on february nd, , in his seventy-eighth year.] charles darwin to miss buckley (now mrs. fisher). (mrs. fisher acted as secretary to sir charles lyell.) down, february , . my dear miss buckley, i am grieved to hear of the death of my old and kind friend, though i knew that it could not be long delayed, and that it was a happy thing that his life should not have been prolonged, as i suppose that his mind would inevitably have suffered. i am glad that lady lyell (lady lyell died in .) has been saved this terrible blow. his death makes me think of the time when i first saw him, and how full of sympathy and interest he was about what i could tell him of coral reefs and south america. i think that this sympathy with the work of every other naturalist was one of the finest features of his character. how completely he revolutionised geology: for i can remember something of pre-lyellian days. i never forget that almost everything which i have done in science i owe to the study of his great works. well, he has had a grand and happy career, and no one ever worked with a truer zeal in a noble cause. it seems strange to me that i shall never again sit with him and lady lyell at their breakfast. i am very much obliged to you for having so kindly written to me. pray give our kindest remembrances to miss lyell, and i hope that she has not suffered much in health, from fatigue and anxiety. believe me, my dear miss buckley, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, february [ ]. my dear hooker, your letter so full of feeling has interested me greatly. i cannot say that i felt his [lyell's] death much, for i fully expected it, and have looked for some little time at his career as finished. i dreaded nothing so much as his surviving with impaired mental powers. he was, indeed, a noble man in very many ways; perhaps in none more than in his warm sympathy with the work of others. how vividly i can recall my first conversation with him, and how he astonished me by his interest in what i told him. how grand also was his candour and pure love of truth. well, he is gone, and i feel as if we were all soon to go... i am deeply rejoiced about westminster abbey (sir c. lyell was buried in westminster abbey.), the possibility of which had not occurred to me when i wrote before. i did think that his works were the most enduring of all testimonials (as you say) to him; but then i did not like the idea of his passing away with no outward sign of what scientific men thought of his merits. now all this is changed, and nothing can be better than westminster abbey. mrs. lyell has asked me to be one of the pall-bearers, but i have written to say that i dared not, as i should so likely fail in the midst of the ceremony, and have my head whirling off my shoulders. all this affair must have cost you much fatigue and worry, and how i do wish you were out of england... [in he wrote to mrs. fisher in reference to her article on sir charles lyell in the 'encyclopaedia britannica':-- "for such a publication i suppose you do not want to say much about his private character, otherwise his strong sense of humour and love of society might have been added. also his extreme interest in the progress of the world, and in the happiness of mankind. also his freedom from all religious bigotry, though these perhaps would be a superfluity." the following refers to the zoological station at naples, a subject on which my father felt an enthusiastic interest:] charles darwin to anton dohrn. down, [ ?]. my dear dr. dohrn, many thanks for your most kind letter, i most heartily rejoice at your improved health and at the success of your grand undertaking, which will have so much influence on the progress of zoology throughout europe. if we look to england alone, what capital work has already been done at the station by balfour and ray lankester... when you come to england, i suppose that you will bring mrs. dohrn, and we shall be delighted to see you both here. i have often boasted that i have had a live uhlan in my house! it will be very interesting to me to read your new views on the ancestry of the vertebrates. i shall be sorry to give up the ascidians, to whom i feel profound gratitude; but the great thing, as it appears to me, is that any link whatever should be found between the main divisions of the animal kingdom... charles darwin to august weismann. down, december , . my dear sir, i have been profoundly interested by your essay on amblystoma ('umwandlung des axolotl.'), and think that you have removed a great stumbling block in the way of evolution. i once thought of reversion in this case; but in a crude and imperfect manner. i write now to call your attention to the sterility of moths when hatched out of their proper season; i give references in chapter of my 'variation under domestication' (volume ii. page , of english edition), and these cases illustrate, i think, the sterility of amblystoma. would it not be worth while to examine the reproductive organs of those individuals of wingless hemiptera which occasionally have wings, as in the case of the bed-bug. i think i have heard that the females of mutilla sometimes have wings. these cases must be due to reversion. i dare say many anomalous cases will be hereafter explained on the same principle. i hinted at this explanation in the extraordinary case of the blac-shouldered peacock, the so-called pavo nigripennis given in my 'variation under domestication;' and i might have been bolder, as the variety is in many respects intermediate between the two known species. with much respect, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. the vivisection question. [it was in november that my father gave his evidence before the royal commission on vivisection. (see volume i.) i have, therefore, placed together here the matter relating to this subject, irrespective of date. something has already been said of my father's strong feeling with regard to suffering both in man and beast. it was indeed one of the strongest feelings in his nature, and was exemplified in matters small and great, in his sympathy with the educational miseries of dancing dogs, or in his horror at the sufferings of slaves. (he once made an attempt to free a patient in a mad-house, who (as he wrongly supposed) was sane. he had some correspondence with the gardener at the asylum, and on one occasion he found a letter from a patient enclosed with one from the gardener. the letter was rational in tone and declared that the writer was sane and wrongfully confined. my father wrote to the lunacy commissioners (without explaining the source of his information) and in due time heard that the man had been visited by the commissioners, and that he was certainly insane. sometime afterwards the patient was discharged, and wrote to thank my father for his interference, adding that he had undoubtedly been insane, when he wrote his former letter.) the remembrance of screams, or other sounds heard in brazil, when he was powerless to interfere with what he believed to be the torture of a slave, haunted him for years, especially at night. in smaller matters, where he could interfere, he did so vigorously. he returned one day from his walk pale and faint from having seen a horse ill-used, and from the agitation of violently remonstrating with the man. on another occasion he saw a hors-breaker teaching his son to ride, the little boy was frightened and the man was rough; my father stopped, and jumping out of the carriage reproved the man in no measured terms. one other little incident may be mentioned, showing that his humanity to animals was well-known in his own neighbourhood. a visitor, driving from orpington to down, told the man to go faster, "why," said the driver, "if i had whipped the horse this much, driving mr. darwin, he would have got out of the carriage and abused me well." with respect to the special point under consideration,--the sufferings of animals subjected to experiment,--nothing could show a stronger feeling than the following extract from a letter to professor ray lankester (march , ):-- "you ask about my opinion on vivisection. i quite agree that it is justifiable for real investigations on physiology; but not for mere damnable and detestable curiosity. it is a subject which makes me sick with horror, so i will not say another word about it, else i shall not sleep to-night." an extract from sir thomas farrer's notes shows how strongly he expressed himself in a similar manner in conversation:-- "the last time i had any conversation with him was at my house in bryanston square, just before one of his last seizures. he was then deeply interested in the vivisection question; and what he said made a deep impression on me. he was a man eminently fond of animals and tender to them; he would not knowingly have inflicted pain on a living creature; but he entertained the strongest opinion that to prohibit experiments on living animals, would be to put a stop to the knowledge of and the remedies for pain and disease." the anti-vivisection agitation, to which the following letters refer, seems to have become specially active in , as may be seen, e.g. by the index to 'nature' for that year, in which the word "vivisection," suddenly comes into prominence. but before that date the subject had received the earnest attention of biologists. thus at the liverpool meeting of the british association in , a committee was appointed, which reported, defining the circumstances and conditions under which, in the opinion of the signatories, experiments on living animals were justifiable. in the spring of , lord hartismere introduced a bill into the upper house to regulate the course of physiological research. shortly afterwards a bill more just towards science in its provisions was introduced to the house of commons by messrs. lyon playfair, walpole, and ashley. it was, however, withdrawn on the appointment of a royal commission to inquire into the whole question. the commissioners were lords cardwell and winmarleigh, mr. w.e. forster, sir j.b. karslake, mr. huxley, professor erichssen, and mr. r.h. hutton: they commenced their inquiry in july, , and the report was published early in the following year. in the early summer of , lord carnarvon's bill, entitled, "an act to amend the law relating to cruelty to animals," was introduced. it cannot be denied that the framers of this bill, yielding to the unreasonable clamour of the public, went far beyond the recommendations of the royal commission. as a correspondent in 'nature' put it ( , page ), "the evidence on the strength of which legislation was recommended went beyond the facts, the report went beyond the evidence, the recommendations beyond the report; and the bill can hardly be said to have gone beyond the recommendations; but rather to have contradicted them." the legislation which my father worked for, as described in the following letters, was practically what was introduced as dr. lyon playfair's bill.] charles darwin to mrs. litchfield. (his daughter.) january , . my dear h. your letter has led me to think over vivisection (i wish some new word like anaes-section could be invented (he communicated to 'nature' (september , ) an article by dr. wilder, of cornell university, an abstract of which was published (page ). dr. wilder advocated the use of the word 'callisection' for painless operations on animals.) for some hours, and i will jot down my conclusions, which will appear very unsatisfactory to you. i have long thought physiology one of the greatest of sciences, sure sooner, or more probably later, greatly to benefit mankind; but, judging from all other sciences, the benefits will accrue only indirectly in the search for abstract truth. it is certain that physiology can progress only by experiments on living animals. therefore the proposal to limit research to points of which we can now see the bearings in regard to health, etc., i look at as puerile. i thought at first it would be good to limit vivisection to public laboratories; but i have heard only of those in london and cambridge, and i think oxford; but probably there may be a few others. therefore only men living in a few great towns would carry on investigation, and this i should consider a great evil. if private men were permitted to work in their own houses, and required a licence, i do not see who is to determine whether any particular man should receive one. it is young unknown men who are the most likely to do good work. i would gladly punish severely any one who operated on an animal not rendered insensible, if the experiment made this possible; but here again i do not see that a magistrate or jury could possibly determine such a point. therefore i conclude, if (as is likely) some experiments have been tried too often, or anaesthetics have not been used when they could have been, the cure must be in the improvement of humanitarian feelings. under this point of view i have rejoiced at the present agitation. if stringent laws are passed, and this is likely, seeing how unscientific the house of commons is, and that the gentlemen of england are humane, as long as their sports are not considered, which entailed a hundred or thousand-fold more suffering than the experiments of physiologists--if such laws are passed, the result will assuredly be that physiology, which has been until within the last few years at a standstill in england, will languish or quite cease. it will then be carried on solely on the continent; and there will be so many the fewer workers on this grand subject, and this i should greatly regret. by the way, f. balfour, who has worked for two or three years in the laboratory at cambridge, declares to george that he has never seen an experiment, except with animals rendered insensible. no doubt the names of doctors will have great weight with the house of commons; but very many practitioners neither know nor care anything about the progress of knowledge. i cannot at present see my way to sign any petition, without hearing what physiologists thought would be its effect, and then judging for myself. i certainly could not sign the paper sent me by miss cobbe, with its monstrous (as it seems to me) attack on virchow for experimenting on the trichinae. i am tired and so no more. yours affectionately, charles darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, april [ ]. my dear hooker, i worked all the time in london on the vivisection question; and we now think it advisable to go further than a mere petition. litchfield (mr. r.b. litchfield, his son-in-law.) drew up a sketch of a bill, the essential features of which have been approved by sanderson, simon and huxley, and from conversation, will, i believe, be approved by paget, and almost certainly, i think, by michael foster. sanderson, simon and paget wish me to see lord derby, and endeavour to gain his advocacy with the home secretary. now, if this is carried into effect, it will be of great importance to me to be able to say that the bill in its essential features has the approval of some half-dozen eminent scientific men. i have therefore asked litchfield to enclose a copy to you in its first rough form; and if it is not essentially modified may i say that it meets with your approval as president of the royal society? the object is to protect animals, and at the same time not to injure physiology, and huxley and sanderson's approval almost suffices on this head. pray let me have a line from you soon. yours affectionately, charles darwin. [the physiological society, which was founded in , was in some measure the outcome of the anti-vivisection movement, since it was this agitation which impressed on physiologists the need of a centre for those engaged in this particular branch of science. with respect to the society, my father wrote to mr. romanes (may , ):-- "i was very much gratified by the wholly unexpected honour of being elected one of the honorary members. this mark of sympathy has pleased me to a very high degree." the following letter appeared in the "times", april th, :] charles darwin to frithiof holmgren. (professor of physiology at upsala.) down, april , . dear sir, in answer to your courteous letter of april , i have no objection to express my opinion with respect to the right of experimenting on living animals. i use this latter expression as more correct and comprehensive than that of vivisection. you are at liberty to make any use of this letter which you may think fit, but if published i should wish the whole to appear. i have all my life been a strong advocate for humanity to animals, and have done what i could in my writings to enforce this duty. several years ago, when the agitation against physiologists commenced in england, it was asserted that inhumanity was here practised, and useless suffering caused to animals; and i was led to think that it might be advisable to have an act of parliament on the subject. i then took an active part in trying to get a bill passed, such as would have removed all just cause of complaint, and at the same time have left physiologists free to pursue their researches,--a bill very different from the act which has since been passed. it is right to add that the investigation of the matter by a royal commission proved that the accusations made against our english physiologists were false. from all that i have heard, however, i fear that in some parts of europe little regard is paid to the sufferings of animals, and if this be the case, i should be glad to hear of legislation against inhumanity in any such country. on the other hand, i know that physiology cannot possibly progress except by means of experiments on living animals, and i feel the deepest conviction that he who retards the progress of physiology commits a crime against mankind. any one who remembers, as i can, the state of this science half a century ago, must admit that it has made immense progress, and it is now progressing at an ever-increasing rate. what improvements in medical practice may be directly attributed to physiological research is a question which can be properly discussed only by those physiologists and medical practitioners who have studied the history of their subjects; but, as far as i can learn, the benefits are already great. however this may be, no one, unless he is grossly ignorant of what science has done for mankind, can entertain any doubt of the incalculable benefits which will hereafter be derived from physiology, not only by man, but by the lower animals. look for instance at pasteur's results in modifying the germs of the most malignant diseases, from which, as it so happens, animals will in the first place receive more relief than man. let it be remembered how many lives and what a fearful amount of suffering have been saved by the knowledge gained of parasitic worms through the experiments of virchow and others on living animals. in the future every one will be astonished at the ingratitude shown, at least in england, to these benefactors of mankind. as for myself, permit me to assure you that i honour, and shall always honour, every one who advances the noble science of physiology. dear sir, yours faithfully, charles darwin. [in the "times" of the following day appeared a letter headed "mr. darwin and vivisection," signed by miss frances power cobbe. to this my father replied in the "times" of april , . on the same day he wrote to mr. romanes:-- "as i have a fair opportunity, i sent a letter to the "times" on vivisection, which is printed to-day. i thought it fair to bear my share of the abuse poured in so atrocious a manner on all physiologists.] charles darwin to the editor of the times. sir, i do not wish to discuss the views expressed by miss cobbe in the letter which appeared in the "times" of the th inst.; but as she asserts that i have "misinformed" my correspondent in sweden in saying that "the investigation of the matter by a royal commission proved that the accusations made against our english physiologists were false," i will merely ask leave to refer to some other sentences from the report of the commission. . the sentence--"it is not to be doubted that inhumanity may be found in persons of very high position as physiologists," which miss cobbe quotes from page of the report, and which, in her opinion, "can necessarily concern english physiologists alone and not foreigners," is immediately followed by the words "we have seen that it was so in magendie." magendie was a french physiologist who became notorious some half century ago for his cruel experiments on living animals. . the commissioners, after speaking of the "general sentiment of humanity" prevailing in this country, say (page ):-- "this principle is accepted generally by the very highly educated men whose lives are devoted either to scientific investigation and education or to the mitigation or the removal of the sufferings of their fellow-creatures; though differences of degree in regard to its practical application will be easily discernible by those who study the evidence as it has been laid before us." again, according to the commissioners (page ):-- "the secretary of the royal society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, when asked whether the general tendency of the scientific world in this country is at variance with humanity, says he believes it to be very different, indeed, from that of foreign physiologists; and while giving it as the opinion of the society that experiments are performed which are in their nature beyond any legitimate province of science, and that the pain which they inflict is pain which it is not justifiable to inflict even for the scientific object in view, he readily acknowledges that he does not know a single case of wanton cruelty, and that in general the english physiologists have used anaesthetics where they think they can do so with safety to the experiment." i am, sir, your obedient servant, charles darwin. april . [in the "times" of saturday, april , , appeared a letter from miss cobbe in reply:] charles darwin to g.j. romanes. down, april , . my dear romanes, i was very glad to read your last note with much news interesting to me. but i write now to say how i, and indeed all of us in the house have admired your letter in the "times". (april , .--mr. romanes defended dr. sanderson against the accusations made by miss cobbe.) it was so simple and direct. i was particularly glad about burton sanderson, of whom i have been for several years a great admirer. i was also especially glad to read the last sentences. i have been bothered with several letters, but none abusive. under a selfish point of view i am very glad of the publication of your letter, as i was at first inclined to think that i had done mischief by stirring up the mud. now i feel sure that i have done good. mr. jesse has written to me very politely, he says his society has had nothing to do with placards and diagrams against physiology, and i suppose, therefore, that these all originate with miss cobbe... mr. jesse complains bitterly that the "times" will "burke" all his letters to this newspaper, nor am i surprised, judging from the laughable tirades advertised in "nature". ever yours, very sincerely, ch. darwin. [the next letter refers to a projected conjoint article on vivisection, to which mr. romanes wished my father to contribute:] charles darwin to g.j. romanes. down, september , . my dear romanes, your letter has perplexed me beyond all measure. i fully recognise the duty of every one whose opinion is worth anything, expressing his opinion publicly on vivisection; and this made me send my letter to the "times". i have been thinking at intervals all morning what i could say, and it is the simple truth that i have nothing worth saying. you and men like you, whose ideas flow freely, and who can express them easily, cannot understand the state of mental paralysis in which i find myself. what is most wanted is a careful and accurate attempt to show what physiology has already done for man, and even still more strongly what there is every reason to believe it will hereafter do. now i am absolutely incapable of doing this, or of discussing the other points suggested by you. if you wish for my name (and i should be glad that it should appear with that of others in the same cause), could you not quote some sentence from my letter in the "times" which i enclose, but please return it. if you thought fit you might say you quoted it with my approval, and that after still further reflection i still abide most strongly in my expressed conviction. for heaven's sake, do think of this. i do not grudge the labour and thought; but i could write nothing worth any one reading. allow me to demur to your calling your conjoint article a "symposium" strictly a "drinking party." this seems to me very bad taste, and i do hope every one of you will avoid any semblance of a joke on the subject. i know that words, like a joke, on this subject have quite disgusted some persons not at all inimical to physiology. one person lamented to me that mr. simon, in his truly admirable address at the medical congress (by far the best thing which i have read), spoke of the fantastic sensuality ('transactions of the international medical congress,' , volume iv. page . the expression "lackadaisical" (not fantastic), and "feeble sensuality," are used with regard to the feelings of the ant-vivisectionists.) (or some such term) of the many mistaken, but honest men and women who are half mad on the subject... [to dr. lauder brunton my father wrote in february :-- "have you read mr. [edmund] gurney's articles in the 'fortnightly' ("a chapter in the ethics of pain," 'fortnightly review,' , volume xxx. page .) and 'cornhill?' ("an epilogue on vivisection," 'cornhill magazine,' , volume xlv. page .) they seem to me very clever, though obscurely written, and i agree with almost everything he says, except with some passages which appear to imply that no experiments should be tried unless some immediate good can be predicted, and this is a gigantic mistake contradicted by the whole history of science."] chapter .ix. -- miscellanea (continued) a revival of geological work--the book on earthworms--life of erasmus darwin--miscellaneous letters. - . [we have now to consider the work (other than botanical) which occupied the concluding six years of my father's life. a letter to his old friend rev. l. blomefield (jenyns), written in march, , shows what was my father's estimate of his own powers of work at this time:-- "my dear jenyns (i see i have forgotten your proper names).--your extremely kind letter has given me warm pleasure. as one gets old, one's thoughts turn back to the past rather than to the future, and i often think of the pleasant, and to me valuable, hours which i spent with you on the borders of the fens. "you ask about my future work; i doubt whether i shall be able to do much more that is new, and i always keep before my mind the example of poor old --, who in his old age had a cacoethes for writing. but i cannot endure doing nothing, so i suppose that i shall go on as long as i can without obviously making a fool of myself. i have a great mass of matter with respect to variation under nature; but so much has been published since the appearance of the 'origin of species,' that i very much doubt whether i retain power of mind and strength to reduce the mass into a digested whole. i have sometimes thought that i would try, but dread the attempt..." his prophecy proved to be a true one with regard to any continuation of any general work in the direction of evolution, but his estimate of powers which could afterwards prove capable of grappling with the 'power of movement in plants,' and with the work on 'earthworms,' was certainly a low one. the year , with which the present chapter begins, brought with it a revival of geological work. he had been astonished, as i hear from professor judd, and as appears in his letters, to learn that his books on 'volcanic islands,' , and on 'south america,' , were still consulted by geologists, and it was a surprise to him that new editions should be required. both these works were originally published by messrs. smith and elder, and the new edition of was also brought out by them. this appeared in one volume with the title 'geological observations on the volcanic islands, and parts of south america visited during the voyage of h.m.s. "beagle".' he has explained in the preface his reasons for leaving untouched the text of the original editions: "they relate to parts of the world which have been so rarely visited by men of science, that i am not aware that much could be corrected or added from observations subsequently made. owing to the great progress which geology has made within recent times, my views on some few points may be somewhat antiquated; but i have thought it best to leave them as they originally appeared." it may have been the revival of geological speculation, due to the revision of his early books, that led to his recording the observations of which some account is given in the following letter. part of it has been published in professor james geikie's 'prehistoric europe,' chapters vii. and ix. (my father's suggestion is also noticed in prof. geikie's address on the 'ice age in europe and north america,' given at edinburgh, november , .), a few verbal alterations having been made at my father's request in the passages quoted. mr. geikie lately wrote to me: "the views suggested in his letter as to the origin of the angular gravels, etc., in the south of england will, i believe, come to be accepted as the truth. this question has a much wider bearing than might at first appear. in point of fact it solves one of the most difficult problems in quaternary geology--and has already attracted the attention of german geologists."] charles darwin to james geikie. down, november , . my dear sir, i hope that you will forgive me for troubling you with a very long letter. but first allow me to tell you with what extreme pleasure and admiration i have just finished reading your 'great ice age.' it seems to me admirably done, and most clear. interesting as many chapters are in the history of the world, i do not think that any one comes [up] nearly to the glacial period or periods. though i have steadily read much on the subject, your book makes the whole appear almost new to me. i am now going to mention a small observation, made by me two or three years ago, near southampton, but not followed out, as i have no strength for excursions. i need say nothing about the character of the drift there (which includes palaeolithic celts), for you have described its essential features in a few words at page . it covers the whole country [in an] even plain-like surface, almost irrespective of the present outline of the land. the coarse stratification has sometimes been disturbed. i find that you allude "to the larger stones often standing on end;" and this is the point which struck me so much. not only moderately sized angular stones, but small oval pebbles often stand vertically up, in a manner which i have never seen in ordinary gravel beds. this fact reminded me of what occurs near my home, in the stiff red clay, full of unworn flints over the chalk, which is no doubt the residue left undissolved by rain water. in this clay, flints as long and thin as my arm often stand perpendicularly up; and i have been told by the tank-diggers that it is their "natural position!" i presume that this position may safely be attributed to the differential movement of parts of the red clay as it subsided very slowly from the dissolution of the underlying chalk; so that the flints arrange themselves in the lines of least resistance. the similar but less strongly marked arrangement of the stones in the drift near southampton makes me suspect that it also must have slowly subsided; and the notion has crossed my mind that during the commencement and height of the glacial period great beds of frozen snow accumulated over the south of england, and that, during the summer, gravel and stones were washed from the higher land over its surface, and in superficial channels. the larger streams may have cut right through the frozen snow, and deposited gravel in lines at the bottom. but on each succeeding autumn, when the running water failed, i imagine that the lines of drainage would have been filled up by blown snow afterwards congealed, and that, owing to great surface accumulations of snow, it would be a mere chance whether the drainage, together with gravel and sand, would follow the same lines during the next summer. thus, as i apprehend, alternate layers of frozen snow and drift, in sheets and lines, would ultimately have covered the country to a great thickness, with lines of drift probably deposited in various directions at the bottom by the larger streams. as the climate became warmer, the lower beds of frozen snow would have melted with extreme slowness, and the many irregular beds of interstratified drift would have sunk down with equal slowness; and during this movement the elongated pebbles would have arranged themselves more or less vertically. the drift would also have been deposited almost irrespective of the outline of the underlying land. when i viewed the country i could not persuade myself that any flood, however great, could have deposited such coarse gravel over the almost level platforms between the valleys. my view differs from that of holst, page ['great ice age'], of which i had never heard, as his relates to channels cut through glaciers, and mine to beds of drift interstratified with frozen snow where no glaciers existed. the upshot of this long letter is to ask you to keep my notion in your head, and look out for upright pebbles in any lowland country which you may examine, where glaciers have not existed. or if you think the notion deserves any further thought, but not otherwise, to tell any one of it, for instance mr. skertchly, who is examining such districts. pray forgive me for writing so long a letter, and again thanking you for the great pleasure derived from your book, i remain yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. p.s.... i am glad that you have read blytt (axel blytt.--'essay on the immigration of the norwegian flora during alternate rainy and dry seasons.' christiania, .); his paper seemed to me a most important contribution to botanical geography. how curious that the same conclusions should have been arrived at by mr. skertchly, who seems to be a first-rate observer; and this implies, as i always think, a sound theoriser. i have told my publisher to send you in two or three days a copy (second edition) of my geological work during the voyage of the "beagle". the sole point which would perhaps interest you is about the steppe-like plains of patagonia. for many years past i have had fearful misgivings that it must have been the level of the sea, and not that of the land which has changed. i read a few months ago your [brother's] very interesting life of murchison. (by mr. archibald geikie.) though i have always thought that he ranked next to w. smith in the classification of formations, and though i knew how kind-hearted [he was], yet the book has raised him greatly in my respect, notwithstanding his foibles and want of broad philosophical views. [the only other geological work of his later years was embodied in his book on earthworms ( ), which may therefore be conveniently considered in this place. this subject was one which had interested him many years before this date, and in a paper on the formation of mould was published in the proceedings of the geological society (see volume i.). here he showed that "fragments of burnt marl, cinders, etc., which had been thickly strewed over the surface of several meadows were found after a few years lying at a depth of some inches beneath the turf, but still forming a layer." for the explanation of this fact, which forms the central idea of the geological part of the book, he was indebted to his uncle josiah wedgwood, who suggested that worms, by bringing earth to the surface in their castings, must undermine any objects lying on the surface and cause an apparent sinking. in the book of he extended his observations on this burying action, and devised a number of different ways of checking his estimates as to the amount of work done. (he received much valuable help from dr. king, of the botanical gardens, calcutta. the following passage is from a letter to dr. king, dated january , :-- "i really do not know how to thank you enough for the immense trouble which you have taken. you have attended exactly and fully to the points about which i was most anxious. if i had been each evening by your side, i could not have suggested anything else.") he also added a mass of observations on the habits, natural history and intelligence of worms, a part of the work which added greatly to its popularity. in sir thomas farrer had discovered close to his garden the remains of a building of roman-british times, and thus gave my father the opportunity of seeing for himself the effects produced by earthworms' work on the old concrete-floors, walls, etc. on his return he wrote to sir thomas farrer: "i cannot remember a more delightful week than the last. i know very well that e. will not believe me, but the worms were by no means the sole charm." in the autumn of , when the 'power of movement in plants' was nearly finished, he began once more on the subject. he wrote to professor carus (september ):-- "in the intervals of correcting the press, i am writing a very little book, and have done nearly half of it. its title will be (as at present designed) 'the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms.' (the full title is 'the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms with observations on their habits,' .) as far as i can judge it will be a curious little book." the manuscript was sent to the printers in april, , and when the proo-sheets were coming in he wrote to professor carus: "the subject has been to me a hobby-horse, and i have perhaps treated it in foolish detail." it was published on october , and copies were sold at once. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker, "i am glad that you approve of the 'worms.' when in old days i used to tell you whatever i was doing, if you were at all interested, i always felt as most men do when their work is finally published." to mr. mellard reade he wrote (november ): "it has been a complete surprise to me how many persons have cared for the subject." and to mr. dyer (in november): "my book has been received with almost laughable enthusiasm, and copies have been sold!!!" again, to his friend mr. anthony rich, he wrote on february , , "i have been plagued with an endless stream of letters on the subject; most of them very foolish and enthusiastic; but some containing good facts which i have used in correcting yesterday the 'sixth thousand.'" the popularity of the book may be roughly estimated by the fact that, in the three years following its publication, copies were sold--a sale relatively greater than that of the 'origin of species.' it is not difficult to account for its success with the non-scientific public. conclusions so wide and so novel, and so easily understood, drawn from the study of creatures so familiar, and treated with unabated vigour and freshness, may well have attracted many readers. a reviewer remarks: "in the eyes of most men... the earthworm is a mere blind, dumb, senseless, and unpleasantly slimy annelid. mr. darwin undertakes to rehabilitate his character, and the earthworm steps forth at once as an intelligent and beneficent personage, a worker of vast geological changes, a planer down of mountain sides... a friend of man... and an ally of the society for the preservation of ancient monuments." the "st. james gazette", october , , pointed out that the teaching of the cumulative importance of the infinitely little is the point of contact between this book and the author's previous work. one more book remains to be noticed, the 'life of erasmus darwin.' in february an essay by dr. ernst krause, on the scientific work of erasmus darwin, appeared in the evolutionary journal, 'kosmos.' the number of 'kosmos' in question was a "gratulationsheft" (the same number contains a good biographical sketch of my father, of which the material was to a large extent supplied by him to the writer, professor preyer of jena. the article contains an excellent list of my father's publications.), or special congratulatory issue in honour of my father's birthday, so that dr. krause's essay, glorifying the older evolutionist, was quite in its place. he wrote to dr. krause, thanking him cordially for the honour paid to erasmus, and asking his permission to publish (the wish to do so was shared by his brother, erasmus darwin the younger, who continued to be associated with the project.) an english translation of the essay. his chief reason for writing a notice of his grandfather's life was "to contradict flatly some calumnies by miss seward." this appears from a letter of march , , to his cousin reginald darwin, in which he asks for any documents and letters which might throw light on the character of erasmus. this led to mr. reginald darwin placing in my father's hands a quantity of valuable material, including a curious folio common-place book, of which he wrote: "i have been deeply interested by the great book,... reading and looking at it is like having communion with the dead...[it] has taught me a good deal about the occupations and tastes of our grandfather." a subsequent letter (april ) to the same correspondent describes the source of a further supply of material:-- since my last letter i have made a strange discovery; for an old box from my father marked "old deeds," and which consequently i had never opened, i found full of letters--hundreds from dr. erasmus--and others from old members of the family: some few very curious. also a drawing of elston before it was altered, about , of which i think i will give a copy." dr. krause's contribution formed the second part of the 'life of erasmus darwin,' my father supplying a "preliminary notice." this expression on the title-page is somewhat misleading; my father's contribution is more than half the book, and should have been described as a biography. work of this kind was new to him, and he wrote doubtfully to mr. thiselton dyer, june th: "god only knows what i shall make of his life, it is such a new kind of work to me." the strong interest he felt about his forebears helped to give zest to the work, which became a decided enjoyment to him. with the general public the book was not markedly successful, but many of his friends recognised its merits. sir j.d. hooker was one of these, and to him my father wrote, "your praise of the life of dr. d. has pleased me exceedingly, for i despised my work, and thought myself a perfect fool to have undertaken such a job." to mr. galton, too, he wrote, november :-- "i am extremely glad that you approve of the little 'life' of our grandfather, for i have been repenting that i ever undertook it, as the work was quite beyond my tether." the publication of the 'life of erasmus darwin' led to an attack by mr. samuel butler, which amounted to a charge of falsehood against my father. after consulting his friends, he came to the determination to leave the charge unanswered, as unworthy of his notice. (he had, in a letter to mr. butler, expressed his regret at the oversight which caused so much offence.) those who wish to know more of the matter, may gather the facts of the case from ernst krause's 'charles darwin,' and they will find mr. butler's statement of his grievance in the "athenaeum", january , , and in the "st. james's gazette", december , . the affair gave my father much pain, but the warm sympathy of those whose opinion he respected soon helped him to let it pass into a well-merited oblivion. the following letter refers to m. j.h. fabre's 'souvenirs entomologiques.' it may find a place here, as it contains a defence of erasmus darwin on a small point. the postscript is interesting, as an example of one of my father's bold ideas both as to experiment and theory:] charles darwin to j.h. fabre. down, january , . my dear sir, i hope that you will permit me to have the satisfaction of thanking you cordially for the lively pleasure which i have derived from reading your book. never have the wonderful habits of insects been more vividly described, and it is almost as good to read about them as to see them. i feel sure that you would not be unjust to even an insect, much less to a man. now, you have been misled by some translator, for my grandfather, erasmus darwin, states ('zoonomia,' volume i. page , ) that it was a wasp (guepe) which he saw cutting off the wings of a large fly. i have no doubt that you are right in saying that the wings are generally cut off instinctively; but in the case described by my grandfather, the wasp, after cutting off the two ends of the body, rose in the air, and was turned round by the wind; he then alighted and cut off the wings. i must believe, with pierre huber, that insects have "une petite dose de raison." in the next edition of your book, i hope that you will alter part of what you say about my grandfather. i am sorry that you are so strongly opposed to the descent theory; i have found the searching for the history of each structure or instinct an excellent aid to observation; and wonderful observer as you are, it would suggest new points to you. if i were to write on the evolution of instincts, i could make good use of some of the facts which you give. permit me to add, that when i read the last sentence in your book, i sympathised deeply with you. (the book is intended as a memorial of the early death of m. fabre's son, who had been his father's assistant in his observations on insect life.) with the most sincere respect, i remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, charles darwin. p.s.--allow me to make a suggestion in relation to your wonderful account of insects finding their way home. i formerly wished to try it with pigeons: namely, to carry the insects in their paper "cornets," about a hundred paces in the opposite direction to that which you ultimately intended to carry them; but before turning round to return, to put the insect in a circular box, with an axle which could be made to revolve very rapidly, first in one direction, and then in another, so as to destroy for a time all sense of direction in the insects. i have sometimes imagined that animals may feel in which direction they were at the first start carried. (this idea was a favourite one with him, and he has described in 'nature' (volume vii. , page ) the behaviour of his cob tommy, in whom he fancied he detected a sense of direction. the horse had been taken by rail from kent to the isle of wight; when there he exhibited a marked desire to go eastward, even when his stable lay in the opposite direction. in the same volume of 'nature,' page , is a letter on the 'origin of certain instincts,' which contains a short discussion on the sense of direction.) if this plan failed, i had intended placing the pigeons within an induction coil, so as to disturb any magnetic or dia-magnetic sensibility, which it seems just possible that they may possess. c.d. [during the latter years of my father's life there was a growing tendency in the public to do him honour. in he received the honorary degree of ll.d. from the university of cambridge. the degree was conferred on november , and with the customary latin speech from the public orator, concluding with the words: "tu vero, qui leges naturae tam docte illustraveris, legum doctor nobis esto." the honorary degree led to a movement being set on foot in the university to obtain some permanent memorial of my father. a sum of about pounds was subscribed, and after the rejection of the idea that a bust would be the best memorial, a picture was determined on. in june he sat to mr. w. richmond for the portrait in the possession of the university, now placed in the library of the philosophical society at cambridge. he is represented seated in his doctor's gown, the head turned towards the spectator: the picture has many admirers, but, according to my own view, neither the attitude nor the expression are characteristic of my father. a similar wish on the part of the linnean society-- with which my father was so closely associated--led to his sitting in august, , to mr. john collier, for the portrait now in the possession of the society. of the artist, he wrote, "collier was the most considerate, kind and pleasant painter a sitter could desire." the portrait represents him standing facing the observer in the loose cloak so familiar to those who knew him, and with his slouch hat in his hand. many of those who knew his face most intimately, think that mr. collier's picture is the best of the portraits, and in this judgment the sitter himself was inclined to agree. according to my feeling it is not so simple or strong a representation of him as that given by mr. ouless. there is a certain expression in mr. collier's portrait which i am inclined to consider an exaggeration of the almost painful expression which professor cohn has described in my father's face, and which he had previously noticed in humboldt. professor cohn's remarks occur in a pleasantly written account of a visit to down in , published in the "breslauer zeitung", april , . (in this connection may be mentioned a visit ( ) from another distinguished german, hans richter. the occurrence is otherwise worthy of mention, inasmuch as it led to the publication, after my father's death, of herr richter's recollections of the visit. the sketch is simply and sympathetically written, and the author has succeeded in giving a true picture of my father as he lived at down. it appeared in the "neue tagblatt" of vienna, and was republished by dr. o. zacharias in his 'charles r. darwin,' berlin, .) besides the cambridge degree, he received about the same time honours of an academic kind from some foreign societies. on august , , he was elected a corresponding member of the french institute ("lyell always spoke of it as a great scandal that darwin was so long kept out of the french institute. as he said, even if the development hypothesis were objected to, darwin's original works on coral reefs, the cirripedia, and other subjects, constituted a more than sufficient claim"--from professor judd's notes.), in the botanical section, and wrote to dr. asa gray:-- "i see that we are both elected corresponding members of the institute. it is rather a good joke that i should be elected in the botanical section, as the extent of my knowledge is little more than that a daisy is a compositous plant and a pea a leguminous one." (the statement has been more than once published that he was elected to the zoological section, but this was not the case. he received twenty-six votes out of a possible , five blank papers were sent in, and eight votes were recorded for the other candidates. in an attempt had been made to elect him to the section of zoology, when, however, he only received out of votes, and loven was chosen for the vacant place. it appears ('nature,' august , ) that an eminent member of the academy wrote to "les mondes" to the following effect:-- "what has closed the doors of the academy to mr. darwin is that the science of those of his books which have made his chief title to fame-the 'origin of species,' and still more the 'descent of man,' is not science, but a mass of assertions and absolutely gratuitous hypotheses, often evidently fallacious. this kind of publication and these theories are a bad example, which a body that respects itself cannot encourage.") in the early part of the same year he was elected a corresponding member of the berlin academy of sciences, and he wrote (march ) to professor du bois reymond, who had proposed him for election:-- "i thank you sincerely for your most kind letter, in which you announce the great honour conferred on me. the knowledge of the names of the illustrious men, who seconded the proposal is even a greater pleasure to me than the honour itself." the seconders were helmholtz, peters, ewald, pringsheim and virchow. in he received the baly medal of the royal college of physicians. (the visit to london, necessitated by the presentation of the baly medal, was combined with a visit to miss forster's house at abinger, in surrey, and this was the occasion of the following characteristic letter:--"i must write a few words to thank you cordially for lending us your house. it was a most kind thought, and has pleased me greatly; but i know well that i do not deserve such kindness from any one. on the other hand, no one can be too kind to my dear wife, who is worth her weight in gold many times over, and she was anxious that i should get some complete rest, and here i cannot rest. your house will be a delightful haven and again i thank you truly.") again in he received from the royal academy of turin the "bressa" prize for the years - , amounting to the sum of , francs. in the following year he received on his birthday, as on previous occasions, a kind letter of congratulation from dr. dohrn of naples. in writing (february th) to thank him and the other naturalists at the zoological station, my father added:-- "perhaps you saw in the papers that the turin society honoured me to an extraordinary degree by awarding me the "bressa" prize. now it occurred to me that if your station wanted some pieces of apparatus, of about the value of pounds, i should very much like to be allowed to pay for it. will you be so kind as to keep this in mind, and if any want should occur to you, i would send you a cheque at any time." i find from my father's accounts that pounds was presented to the naples station. he received also several tokens of respect and sympathy of a more private character from various sources. with regard to such incidents and to the estimation of the public generally, his attitude may be illustrated by a passage from a letter to mr. romanes:--(the lecture referred to was given at the dublin meeting of the british association.) "you have indeed passed a most magnificent eulogium upon me, and i wonder that you were not afraid of hearing 'oh! oh!' or some other sign of disapprobation. many persons think that what i have done in science has been much overrated, and i very often think so myself; but my comfort is that i have never consciously done anything to gain applause. enough and too much about my dear self." among such expressions of regard he valued very highly the two photographic albums received from germany and holland on his birthday, . herr emil rade of munster, originated the idea of the german birthday gift, and undertook the necessary arrangements. to him my father wrote (february , ):-- "i hope that you will inform the one hundred and fifty-four men of science, including some of the most highly honoured names in the world, how grateful i am for their kindness and generous sympathy in having sent me their photographs on my birthday." to professor haeckel he wrote (february , ):-- the album has just arrived quite safe. it is most superb. (the album is magnificently bound and decorated with a beautifully illuminated title page, the work of an artist, herr a. fitger of bremen, who also contributed the dedicatory poem.) it is by far the greatest honour which i have ever received, and my satisfaction has been greatly enhanced by your most kind letter of february ... i thank you all from my heart. i have written by this post to herr rade, and i hope he will somehow manage to thank all my generous friends." to professor a. van bemmelen he wrote, on receiving a similar present from a number of distinguished men and lovers of natural history in the netherlands:-- "sir, i received yesterday the magnificent present of the album, together with your letter. i hope that you will endeavour to find some means to express to the two hundred and seventeen distinguished observers and lovers of natural science, who have sent me their photographs, my gratitude for their extreme kindness. i feel deeply gratified by this gift, and i do not think that any testimonial more honourable to me could have been imagined. i am well aware that my books could never have been written, and would not have made any impression on the public mind, had not an immense amount of material been collected by a long series of admirable observers; and it is to them that honour is chiefly due. i suppose that every worker at science occasionally feels depressed, and doubts whether what he has published has been worth the labour which it has cost him, but for the few remaining years of my life, whenever i want cheering, i will look at the portraits of my distinguished co-workers in the field of science, and remember their generous sympathy. when i die, the album will be a most precious bequest to my children. i must further express my obligation for the very interesting history contained in your letter of the progress of opinion in the netherlands, with respect to evolution, the whole of which is quite new to me. i must again thank all my kind friends, from my heart, for their ever-memorable testimonial, and i remain, sir, your obliged and grateful servant, charles r. darwin." [in the june of the following year ( ) he was gratified by learning that the emperor of brazil had expressed a wish to meet him. owing to absence from home my father was unable to comply with this wish; he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "the emperor has done so much for science, that every scientific man is bound to show him the utmost respect, and i hope that you will express in the strongest language, and which you can do with entire truth, how greatly i feel honoured by his wish to see me; and how much i regret my absence from home." finally it should be mentioned that in he received an address personally presented by members of the council of the birmingham philosophical society, as well as a memorial from the yorkshire naturalist union presented by some of the members, headed by dr. sorby. he also received in the same year a visit from some of the members of the lewisham and blackheath scientific association,--a visit which was, i think, enjoyed by both guests and host.] miscellaneous letters-- - . [the chief incident of a personal kind (not already dealt with) in the years which we are now considering was the death of his brother erasmus, who died at his house in queen anne street, on august th, . my father wrote to sir j.d. hooker (august ):-- "the death of erasmus is a very heavy loss to all of us, for he had a most affectionate disposition. he always appeared to me the most pleasant and clearest headed man, whom i have ever known. london will seem a strange place to me without his presence; i am deeply glad that he died without any great suffering, after a very short illness from mere weakness and not from any definite disease. ("he was not, i think, a happy man, and for many years did not value life, though never complaining."--from a letter to sir thomas farrer.) "i cannot quite agree with you about the death of the old and young. death in the latter case, when there is a bright future ahead, causes grief never to be wholly obliterated." an incident of a happy character may also be selected for especial notice, since it was one which strongly moved my father's sympathy. a letter (december , ) to sir joseph hooker shows that the possibility of a government pension being conferred on mr. wallace first occurred to my father at this time. the idea was taken up by others, and my father's letters show that he felt the most lively interest in the success of the plan. he wrote, for instance, to mrs. fisher, "i hardly ever wished for anything more than i do for the success of our plan." he was deeply pleased when this thoroughly deserved honour was bestowed on his friend, and wrote to the same correspondent (january , ), on receiving a letter from mr. gladstone announcing the fact: "how extraordinarily kind of mr. gladstone to find time to write under the present circumstances. (mr. gladstone was then in office, and the letter must have been written when he was overwhelmed with business connected with the opening of parliament (january ). good heavens! how pleased i am!" the letters which follow are of a miscellaneous character and refer principally to the books he read, and to his minor writings.] charles darwin to miss buckley (mrs. fisher). down, february [ ]. my dear miss buckley, you must let me have the pleasure of saying that i have just finished reading with very great interest your new book. ('a short history of natural science.') the idea seems to me a capital one, and as far as i can judge very well carried out. there is much fascination in taking a bird's eye view of all the grand leading steps in the progress of science. at first i regretted that you had not kept each science more separate; but i dare say you found it impossible. i have hardly any criticisms, except that i think you ought to have introduced murchison as a great classifier of formations, second only to w. smith. you have done full justice, and not more than justice, to our dear old master, lyell. perhaps a little more ought to have been said about botany, and if you should ever add this, you would find sachs' 'history,' lately published, very good for your purpose. you have crowned wallace and myself with much honour and glory. i heartily congratulate you on having produced so novel and interesting a work, and remain, my dear miss buckley, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. charles darwin to a.r. wallace. [hopedene] (mr. hensleigh wedgwood's house in surrey.), june , . my dear wallace, i must have the pleasure of expressing to you my unbounded admiration of your book ('geographical distribution,' .), though i have read only to page --my object having been to do as little as possible while resting. i feel sure that you have laid a broad and safe foundation for all future work on distribution. how interesting it will be to see hereafter plants treated in strict relation to your views; and then all insects, pulmonate molluscs and fresh-water fishes, in greater detail than i suppose you have given to these lower animals. the point which has interested me most, but i do not say the most valuable point, is your protest against sinking imaginary continents in a quite reckless manner, as was stated by forbes, followed, alas, by hooker, and caricatured by wollaston and [andrew] murray! by the way, the main impression that the latter author has left on my mind is his utter want of all scientific judgment. i have lifted up my voice against the above view with no avail, but i have no doubt that you will succeed, owing to your new arguments and the coloured chart. of a special value, as it seems to me, is the conclusion that we must determine the areas, chiefly by the nature of the mammals. when i worked many years ago on this subject, i doubted much whether the now called palaearctic and nearctic regions ought to be separated; and i determined if i made another region that it should be madagascar. i have, therefore, been able to appreciate your evidence on these points. what progress palaeontology has made during the last years; but if it advances at the same rate in the future, our views on the migration and birth-place of the various groups will, i fear, be greatly altered. i cannot feel quite easy about the glacial period, and the extinction of large mammals, but i must hope that you are right. i think you will have to modify your belief about the difficulty of dispersal of land molluscs; i was interrupted when beginning to experimentize on the just hatched young adhering to the feet of groun-roosting birds. i differ on one other point, viz. in the belief that there must have existed a tertiary antarctic continent, from which various forms radiated to the southern extremities of our present continents. but i could go on scribbling forever. you have written, as i believe, a grand and memorable work which will last for years as the foundation for all future treatises on geographical distribution. my dear wallace, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--you have paid me the highest conceivable compliment, by what you say of your work in relation to my chapters on distribution in the 'origin,' and i heartily thank you for it. [the following letters illustrate my father's power of taking a vivid interest in work bearing on evolution, but unconnected with his own special researches at the time. the books referred to in the first letter are professor weismann's 'studien zur descendenzlehre' (my father contributed a prefatory note to mr. meldola's translation of prof. weismann's 'studien,' - .), being part of the series of essays by which the author has done such admirable service to the cause of evolution:] charles darwin to august weismann. january , . ... i read german so slowly, and have had lately to read several other papers, so that i have as yet finished only half of your first essay and two-thirds of your second. they have excited my interest and admiration in the highest degree, and whichever i think of last, seems to me the most valuable. i never expected to see the coloured marks on caterpillars so well explained; and the case of the ocelli delights me especially... ... there is one other subject which has always seemed to me more difficult to explain than even the colours of caterpillars, and that is the colour of birds' eggs, and i wish you would take this up. charles darwin to melchior neumayr (professor of palaeontology at vienna.), vienna. down, beckenham, kent, march , . dear sir, from having been obliged to read other books, i finished only yesterday your essay on 'die congerien,' etc. ('die congerien und paludinenschichten slavoneins.' to, .) i hope that you will allow me to express my gratitude for the pleasure and instruction which i have derived from reading it. it seems to me to be an admirable work; and is by far the best case which i have ever met with, showing the direct influence of the conditions of life on the organization. mr. hyatt, who has been studying the hilgendorf case, writes to me with respect to the conclusions at which he has arrived, and these are nearly the same as yours. he insists that closely similar forms may be derived from distinct lines of descent; and this is what i formerly called analogical variation. there can now be no doubt that species may become greatly modified through the direct action of the environment. i have some excuse for not having formerly insisted more strongly on this head in my 'origin of species,' as most of the best facts have been observed since its publication. with my renewed thanks for your most interesting essay, and with the highest respect, i remain, dear sir, yours very faithfully, charles darwin. charles darwin to e.s. morse. down, april , . my dear sir, you must allow me just to tell you how very much i have been interested with the excellent address ("what american zoologists have done for evolution," an address to the american association for the advancement of science, august, . volume xxv. of the proceedings of the association.) which you have been so kind as to send me, and which i had much wished to read. i believe that i had read all, or very nearly all, the papers by your countrymen to which you refer, but i have been fairly astonished at their number and importance when seeing them thus put together. i quite agree about the high value of mr. allen's works (mr. j.a. allen shows the existence of geographical races of birds and mammals. proc. boston soc. nat. hist. volume xv.), as showing how much change may be expected apparently through the direct action of the conditions of life. as for the fossil remains in the west, no words will express how wonderful they are. there is one point which i regret that you did not make clear in your address, namely what is the meaning and importance of professors cope and hyatt's views on acceleration and retardation. i have endeavoured, and given up in despair, the attempt to grasp their meaning. permit me to thank you cordially for the kind feeling shown towards me through your address, and i remain, my dear sir, yours faithfully, ch. darwin. [the next letter refers to his 'biographical sketch of an infant,' written from notes made years previously, and published in 'mind,' july, . the article attracted a good deal of attention, and was translated at the time in 'kosmos,' and the 'revue scientifique,' and has been recently published in dr. krause's 'gesammelte kleinere schriften von charles darwin,' :] charles darwin to g. croom robertson. (the editor of 'mind.') down, april , . dear sir, i hope that you will be so good as to take the trouble to read the enclosed ms., and if you think it fit for publication in your admirable journal of 'mind,' i shall be gratified. if you do not think it fit, as is very likely, will you please to return it to me. i hope that you will read it in an extra critical spirit, as i cannot judge whether it is worth publishing from having been so much interested in watching the dawn of the several faculties in my own infant. i may add that i should never have thought of sending you the ms., had not m. taine's article appeared in your journal. ( , page . the original appeared in the 'revue philosophique' .) if my ms. is printed, i think that i had better see a proof. i remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, ch. darwin. [the two following extracts show the lively interest he preserved in diverse fields of enquiry. professor cohn of breslau had mentioned, in a letter, koch's researches on splenic fever, my father replied, january :-- "i well remember saying to myself, between twenty and thirty years ago, that if ever the origin of any infectious disease could be proved, it would be the greatest triumph to science; and now i rejoice to have seen the triumph." in the spring he received a copy of dr. e. von mojsisovics' 'dolomit riffe,' his letter to the author (june , ) is interesting as bearing on the influence of his own work on the methods of geology. "i have at last found time to read the first chapter of your 'dolomit riffe,' and have been exceedingly interested by it. what a wonderful change in the future of geological chronology you indicate, by assuming the descent theory to be established, and then taking the graduated changes of the same group of organisms as the true standard! i never hoped to live to see such a step even proposed by any one." another geological research which roused my father's admiration was mr. d. mackintosh's work on erratic blocks. apart from its intrinsic merit the work keenly excited his sympathy from the conditions under which it was executed, mr. mackintosh being compelled to give nearly his whole time to tuition. the following passage is from a letter to mr. mackintosh of october , , and refers to his paper in the journal of the geological society, :-- "i hope that you will allow me to have the pleasure of thanking you for the very great pleasure which i have derived from just reading your paper on erratic blocks. the map is wonderful, and what labour each of those lines show! i have thought for some years that the agency of floating ice, which nearly half a century ago was overrated, has of late been underrated. you are the sole man who has ever noticed the distinction suggested by me (in his paper on the 'ancient glaciers of carnarvonshire,' phil. mag. xxi. .) between flat or planed scored rocks, and mammillated scored rocks."] charles darwin to c. ridley. down, november , . dear sir, i just skimmed through dr. pusey's sermon, as published in the "guardian", but it did [not] seem to me worthy of any attention. as i have never answered criticisms excepting those made by scientific men, i am not willing that this letter should be published; but i have no objection to your saying that you sent me the three questions, and that i answered that dr. pusey was mistaken in imagining that i wrote the 'origin' with any relation whatever to theology. i should have thought that this would have been evident to any one who had taken the trouble to read the book, more especially as in the opening lines of the introduction i specify how the subject arose in my mind. this answer disposes of your two other questions; but i may add that many years ago, when i was collecting facts for the 'origin,' my belief in what is called a personal god was as firm as that of dr. pusey himself, and as to the eternity of matter i have never troubled myself about such insoluble questions. dr. pusey's attack will be as powerless to retard by a day the belief in evolution, as were the virulent attacks made by divines fifty years ago against geology, and the still older ones of the catholic church against galileo, for the public is wise enough always to follow scientific men when they agree on any subject; and now there is almost complete unanimity amongst biologists about evolution, though there is still considerable difference as to the means, such as how far natural selection has acted, and how far external conditions, or whether there exists some mysterious innate tendency to perfectability. i remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, ch. darwin. [theologians were not the only adversaries of freedom in science. on september , , prof. virchow delivered an address at the munich meeting of german naturalists and physicians, which had the effect of connecting socialism with the descent theory. this point of view was taken up by anti-evolutionists to such an extent that, according to haeckel, the "kreuz zeitung" threw "all the blame of" the "treasonable attempts of the democrats hodel and nobiling... directly on the theory of descent." prof. haeckel replied with vigour and ability in his 'freedom in science and teaching' (english translation ), an essay which must have the sympathy of all lovers of freedom. the following passage from a letter (december , ) to dr. scherzer, the author of the 'voyage of the "novara",' gives a hint of my father's views on this once burning question:-- "what a foolish idea seems to prevail in germany on the connection between socialism and evolution through natural selection."] charles darwin to h.n. moseley. (professor of zoology at oxford. the book alluded to is prof. moseley's 'notes by a naturalist on the "challenger".') down, january , . dear moseley, i have just received your book, and i declare that never in my life have i seen a dedication which i admired so much. ("to charles darwin, esquire, ll.d., f.r.s., etc., from the study of whose 'journal of researches' i mainly derived my desire to travel round the world; to the development of whose theory i owe the principal pleasures and interests of my life, and who has personally given me much kindly encouragement in the prosecution of my studies, this book is, by permission, gratefully dedicated.") of course i am not a fair judge, but i hope that i speak dispassionately, though you have touched me in my very tenderest point, by saying that my old journal mainly gave you the wish to travel as a naturalist. i shall begin to read your book this very evening, and am sure that i shall enjoy it much. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to h.n. moseley. down, february , . dear moseley, i have at last read every word of your book, and it has excited in me greater interest than any other scientific book which i have read for a long time. you will perhaps be surprised how slow i have been, but my head prevents me reading except at intervals. if i were asked which parts have interested me most, i should be somewhat puzzled to answer. i fancy that the general reader would prefer your account of japan. for myself i hesitate between your discussions and description of the southern ice, which seems to me admirable, and the last chapter which contained many facts and views new to me, though i had read your papers on the stony hydroid corals, yet your resume made me realise better than i had done before, what a most curious case it is. you have also collected a surprising number of valuable facts bearing on the dispersal of plants, far more than in any other book known to me. in fact your volume is a mass of interesting facts and discussions, with hardly a superfluous word; and i heartily congratulate you on its publication. your dedication makes me prouder than ever. believe me, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. [in november, , he answered for mr. galton a series of questions utilised in his 'inquiries into human faculty,' . he wrote to mr. galton:-- "i have answered the questions as well as i could, but they are miserably answered, for i have never tried looking into my own mind. unless others answer very much better than i can do, you will get no good from your queries. do you not think you ought to have the age of the answerer? i think so, because i can call up faces of many schoolboys, not seen for sixty years, with much distinctness, but nowadays i may talk with a man for an hour, and see him several times consecutively, and, after a month, i am utterly unable to recollect what he is at all like. the picture is quite washed out. the greater number of the answers are given in the annexed table."] questions on the faculty of visualising. . illumination? moderate, but my solitary breakfast was early, and the morning dark. . definition? some objects quite defined, a slice of cold beef, some grapes and a pear, the state of my plate when i had finished, and a few other objects, are as distinct as if i had photo's before me. . completeness? very moderately so. . colouring? the objects above named perfectly coloured. . extent of field of view? rather small. different kinds of imagery. . printed pages. i cannot remember a single sentence, but i remember the place of the sentence and the kind of type. . furniture? i have never attended to it. . persons? i remember the faces of persons formerly well-known vividly, and can make them do anything i like. . scenery? remembrance vivid and distinct, and gives me pleasure. . geography? no. . military movements? no. . mechanism? never tried. . geometry? i do not think i have any power of the kind. . numerals? when i think of any number, printed figures arise before my mind. i can't remember for an hour four consecutive figures. . card playing? have not played for many years, but i am sure should not remember. . chess? never played. [in he published a short paper in 'nature' (volume xxi. page ) on the "fertility of hybrids from the common and chinese goose." he received the hybrids from the rev. dr. goodacre, and was glad of the opportunity of testing the accuracy of the statement that these species are fertile inter se. this fact, which was given in the 'origin' on the authority of mr. eyton, he considered the most remarkable as yet recorded with respect to the fertility of hybrids. the fact (as confirmed by himself and dr. goodacre) is of interest as giving another proof that sterility is no criterion of specific difference, since the two species of goose now shown to be fertile inter se are so distinct that they have been placed by some authorities in distinct genera or sub-genera. the following letter refers to mr. huxley's lecture: "the coming of age of the origin of species" (this same "coming of age" was the subject of an address from the council of the otago institute. it is given in 'nature,' february , .), given at the royal institution, april , , published in 'nature,' and in 'science and culture,' page :] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. abinger hall, dorking, sunday, april , . my dear huxley, i wished much to attend your lecture, but i have had a bad cough, and we have come here to see whether a change would do me good, as it has done. what a magnificent success your lecture seems to have been, as i judge from the reports in the "standard" and "daily news", and more especially from the accounts given me by three of my children. i suppose that you have not written out your lecture, so i fear there is no chance of its being printed in extenso. you appear to have piled, as on so many other occasions, honours high and thick on my old head. but i well know how great a part you have played in establishing and spreading the belief in the descen-theory, ever since that grand review in the "times" and the battle royal at oxford up to the present day. ever my dear huxley, yours sincerely and gratefully, charles darwin. p.s.--it was absurdly stupid in me, but i had read the announcement of your lecture, and thought that you meant the maturity of the subject, until my wife one day remarked, "it is almost twenty-one years since the 'origin' appeared," and then for the first time the meaning of your words flashed on me! [in the above-mentioned lecture mr. huxley made a strong point of the accumulation of palaeontological evidence which the years between and have given us in favour of evolution. on this subject my father wrote (august , ):] my dear professor marsh, i received some time ago your very kind note of july th, and yesterday the magnificent volume. (odontornithes. a monograph on the extinct toothed birds of north america. . by o.c. marsh.) i have looked with renewed admiration at the plates, and will soon read the text. your work on these old birds, and on the many fossil animals of north america has afforded the best support to the theory of evolution, which has appeared within the last twenty years. (mr. huxley has well pointed out ('science and culture,' page ) that: "in , the discovery of the toothed birds of the cretaceous formation in north america, by prof. marsh, completed the series of transitional forms between birds and reptiles, and removed mr. darwin's proposition that, 'many animal forms of life have been utterly lost, through which the early progenitors of birds were formerly connected with the early progenitors of the other vertebrate classes,' from the region of hypothesis to that of demonstrable fact.") the general appearance of the copy which you have sent me is worthy of its contents, and i can say nothing stronger than this. with cordial thanks, believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [in november, , he received an account of a flood in brazil, from which his friend fritz muller had barely escaped with his life. my father immediately wrote to hermann muller anxiously enquiring whether his brother had lost books, instruments, etc., by this accident, and begging in that case "for the sake of science, so that science should not suffer," to be allowed to help in making good the loss. fortunately, however, the injury to fritz muller's possessions was not so great as was expected, and the incident remains only as a memento, which i trust cannot be otherwise than pleasing to the survivor, of the friendship of the two naturalists. in 'nature' (november , ) appeared a letter from my father, which is, i believe, the only instance in which he wrote publicly with anything like severity. the late sir wyville thomson wrote, in the introduction to the 'voyage of the "challenger"': "the character of the abyssal fauna refuses to give the least support to the theory which refers the evolution of species to extreme variation guided only by natural selection." my father, after characterising these remarks as a "standard of criticism, not uncommonly reached by theologians and metaphysicians," goes on to take exception to the term "extreme variation," and challenges sir wyville to name any one who has "said that the evolution of species depends only on natural selection." the letter closes with an imaginary scene between sir wyville and a breeder, in which sir wyville criticises artificial selection in a somewhat similar manner. the breeder is silent, but on the departure of his critic he is supposed to make use of "emphatic but irreverent language about naturalists." the letter, as originally written, ended with a quotation from sedgwick on the invulnerability of those who write on what they do not understand, but this was omitted on the advice of a friend, and curiously enough a friend whose combativeness in the good cause my father had occasionally curbed.] charles darwin to g.j. romanes. down, april , . my dear romanes, my ms. on 'worms' has been sent to the printers, so i am going to amuse myself by scribbling to you on a few points; but you must not waste your time in answering at any length this scribble. firstly, your letter on intelligence was very useful to me and i tor up and re-wrote what i sent to you. i have not attempted to define intelligence; but have quoted your remarks on experience, and have shown how far they apply to worms. it seems to me that they must be said to work with some intelligence, anyhow they are not guided by a blind instinct. secondly, i was greatly interested by the abstract in 'nature' of your work on echinoderms ("on the locomotor system of echinoderms," by g.j. romanes and j. cossar ewart. 'philosophical transactions,' , page .), the complexity with simplicity, and with such curious co-ordination of the nervous system is marvellous; and you showed me before what splendid gymnastic feats they can perform. thirdly, dr. roux has sent me a book just published by him: 'der kampf der theile,' etc., ( pages in length). he is manifestly a well-read physiologist and pathologist, and from his position a good anatomist. it is full of reasoning, and this in german is very difficult to me, so that i have only skimmed through each page; here and there reading with a little more care. as far as i can imperfectly judge, it is the most important book on evolution, which has appeared for some time. i believe that g.h. lewes hinted at the same fundamental idea, viz. that there is a struggle going on within every organism between the organic molecules, the cells and the organs. i think that his basis is, that every cell which best performs its function is, in consequence, at the same time best nourished and best propagates its kind. the book does not touch on mental phenomena, but there is much discussion on rudimentary or atrophied parts, to which subject you formerly attended. now if you would like to read this book, i would sent it... if you read it, and are struck with it (but i may be wholly mistaken about its value), you would do a public service by analysing and criticising it in 'nature.' dr. roux makes, i think, a gigantic oversight in never considering plants; these would simplify the problem for him. fourthly, i do not know whether you will discuss in your book on the mind of animals any of the more complex and wonderful instincts. it is unsatisfactory work, as there can be no fossilised instincts, and the sole guide is their state in other members of the same order, and mere probability. but if you do discuss any (and it will perhaps be expected of you), i should think that you could not select a better case than that of the sand wasps, which paralyse their prey, as formerly described by fabre, in his wonderful paper in the 'annales des sciences,' and since amplified in his admirable 'souvenirs.' whilst reading this latter book, i speculated a little on the subject. astonishing nonsense is often spoken of the sand wasp's knowledge of anatomy. now will any one say that the gauchos on the plains of la plata have such knowledge, yet i have often seen them pith a struggling and lassoed cow on the ground with unerring skill, which no mere anatomist could imitate. the pointed knife was infallibly driven in between the vertebrae by a single slight thrust. i presume that the art was first discovered by chance, and that each young gaucho sees exactly how the others do it, and then with a very little practice learns the art. now i suppose that the sand wasps originally merely killed their prey by stinging them in many places (see page of fabre's 'souvenirs,' and page ) on the lower and softest side of the body--and that to sting a certain segment was found by far the most successful method; and was inherited like the tendency of a bulldog to pin the nose of a bull, or of a ferret to bite the cerebellum. it would not be a very great step in advance to prick the ganglion of its prey only slightly, and thus to give its larvae fresh meat instead of old dried meat. though fabre insists so strongly on the unvarying character of instinct, yet it is shown that there is some variability, as at pages , . i fear that i shall have utterly wearied you with my scribbling and bad handwriting. my dear romanes, yours, very sincerely, ch. darwin. postscript of a letter to professor a. agassiz, may th, :-- i read with much interest your address before the american association. however true your remarks on the genealogies of the several groups may be, i hope and believe that you have over-estimated the difficulties to be encountered in the future:--a few days after reading your address, i interpreted to myself your remarks on one point (i hope in some degree correctly) in the following fashion:-- any character of an ancient, generalised, or intermediate form may, and often does, re-appear in its descendants, after countless generations, and this explains the extraordinarily complicated affinities of existing groups. this idea seems to me to throw a flood of light on the lines, sometimes used to represent affinities, which radiate in all directions, often to very distant sub-groups,--a difficulty which has haunted me for half a century. a strong case could be made out in favour of believing in such reversion after immense intervals of time. i wish the idea had been put into my head in old days, for i shall never again write on difficult subjects, as i have seen too many cases of old men becoming feeble in their minds, without being in the least conscious of it. if i have interpreted your ideas at all correctly, i hope that you will re-urge, on any fitting occasion, your view. i have mentioned it to a few persons capable of judging, and it seemed quite new to them. i beg you to forgive the proverbial garrulity of old age. c.d. [the following letter refers to sir j.d. hooker's geographical address at the york meeting ( ) of the british association:] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, august , . my dear hooker, for heaven's sake never speak of boring me, as it would be the greatest pleasure to aid you in the slightest degree and your letter has interested me exceedingly. i will go through your points seriatim, but i have never attended much to the history of any subject, and my memory has become atrociously bad. it will therefore be a mere chance whether any of my remarks are of any use. your idea, to show what travellers have done, seems to me a brilliant and just one, especially considering your audience. . i know nothing about tournefort's works. . i believe that you are fully right in calling humboldt the greatest scientific traveller who ever lived, i have lately read two or three volumes again. his geology is funny stuff; but that merely means that he was not in advance of his age. i should say he was wonderful, more for his near approach to omniscience than for originality. whether or not his position as a scientific man is as eminent as we think, you might truly call him the parent of a grand progeny of scientific travellers, who, taken together, have done much for science. . it seems to me quite just to give lyell (and secondarily e. forbes) a very prominent place. . dana was, i believe, the first man who maintained the permanence of continents and the great oceans... when i read the 'challenger's' conclusion that sediment from the land is not deposited at greater distances than or miles from the land, i was much strengthened in my old belief. wallace seems to me to have argued the case excellently. nevertheless, i would speak, if i were in your place, rather cautiously; for t. mellard reade has argued lately with some force against the view; but i cannot call to mind his arguments. if forced to express a judgment, i should abide by the view of approximate permanence since cambrian days. . the extreme importance of the arctic fossil-plants, is self-evident. take the opportunity of groaning over [our] ignorance of the lignite plants of kerguelen land, or any antarctic land. it might do good. . i cannot avoid feeling sceptical about the travelling of plants from the north except during the tertiary period. it may of course have been so and probably was so from one of the two poles at the earliest period, during pre-cambrian ages; but such speculations seem to me hardly scientific seeing how little we know of the old floras. i will now jot down without any order a few miscellaneous remarks. i think you ought to allude to alph. de candolle's great book, for though it (like almost everything else) is washed out of my mind, yet i remember most distinctly thinking it a very valuable work. anyhow, you might allude to his excellent account of the history of all cultivated plants. how shall you manage to allude to your new zealand and tierra del fuego work? if you do not allude to them you will be scandalously unjust. the many angiosperm plants in the cretacean beds of the united states (and as far as i can judge the age of these beds has been fairly well made out) seems to me a fact of very great importance, so is their relation to the existing flora of the united states under an evolutionary point of view. have not some australian extinct forms been lately found in australia? or have i dreamed it? again, the recent discovery of plants rather low down in our silurian beds is very important. nothing is more extraordinary in the history of the vegetable kingdom, as it seems to me, than the apparently very sudden or abrupt development of the higher plants. i have sometimes speculated whether there did not exist somewhere during long ages an extremely isolated continent, perhaps near the south pole. hence i was greatly interested by a view which saporta propounded to me, a few years ago, at great length in ms. and which i fancy he has since published, as i urged him to do--viz., that as soon as flower-frequenting insects were developed, during the latter part of the secondary period, an enormous impulse was given to the development of the higher plants by cross-fertilization being thus suddenly formed. a few years ago i was much struck with axel blytt's essay showing from observation, on the peat beds in scandinavia, that there had apparently been long periods with more rain and other with less rain (perhaps connected with croll's recurrent astronomical periods), and that these periods had largely determined the present distribution of the plants of norway and sweden. this seemed to me, a very important essay. i have just read over my remarks and i fear that they will not be of the slightest use to you. i cannot but think that you have got through the hardest, or at least the most difficult, part of your work in having made so good and striking a sketch of what you intend to say; but i can quite understand how you must groan over the great necessary labour. i most heartily sympathise with you on the successes of b. and r.: as years advance what happens to oneself becomes of very little consequence, in comparison with the careers of our children. keep your spirits up, for i am convinced that you will make an excellent address. ever yours, affectionately, charles darwin. [in september he wrote:-- "i have this minute finished reading your splendid but too short address. i cannot doubt that it will have been fully appreciated by the geographers of york; if not, they are asses and fools."] charles darwin to john lubbock. sunday evening [ ]. my dear l., your address (presidential address at the york meeting of the british association.) has made me think over what have been the great steps in geology during the last fifty years, and there can be no harm in telling you my impression. but it is very odd that i cannot remember what you have said on geology. i suppose that the classification of the silurian and cambrian formations must be considered the greatest or most important step; for i well remember when all these older rocks were called grau-wacke, and nobody dreamed of classing them; and now we have three azoic formations pretty well made out beneath the cambrian! but the most striking step has been the discovery of the glacial period: you are too young to remember the prodigious effect this produced about the year (?) on all our minds. elie de beaumont never believed in it to the day of his death! the study of the glacial deposits led to the study of the superficial drift, which was formerly never studied and called diluvium, as i well remember. the study under the microscope of rock-sections is another not inconsiderable step. so again the making out of cleavage and the foliation of the metamorphic rocks. but i will not run on, having now eased my mind. pray do not waste even one minute in acknowledging my horrid scrawls. ever yours, ch. darwin. [the following extracts referring to the late francis maitland balfour (professor of animal morphology at cambridge. he was born in , and was killed, with his guide, on the aiguille blanche, near courmayeur, in july, .), show my father's estimate of his work and intellectual qualities, but they give merely an indication of his strong appreciation of balfour's most lovable personal character:-- from a letter to fritz muller, january , :-- "your appreciation of balfour's book ['comparative embryology'] has pleased me excessively, for though i could not properly judge of it, yet it seemed to me one of the most remarkable books which have been published for some considerable time. he is quite a young man, and if he keeps his health, will do splendid work... he has a fair fortune of his own, so that he can give up his whole time to biology. he is very modest, and very pleasant, and often visits here and we like him very much." from a letter to dr. dohrn, february , :-- "i have got one very bad piece of news to tell you, that f. balfour is very ill at cambridge with typhoid fever... i hope that he is not in a very dangerous state; but the fever is severe. good heavens, what a loss he would be to science, and to his many loving friends!"] charles darwin to t.h. huxley. down, january , . my dear huxley, very many thanks for 'science and culture,' and i am sure that i shall read most of the essays with much interest. with respect to automatism ("on the hypothesis that animals are automata and its history," an address given at the belfast meeting of the british association, , and published in the 'fortnightly review,' , and in 'science and culture.'), i wish that you could review yourself in the old, and of course forgotten, trenchant style, and then you would here answer yourself with equal incisiveness; and thus, by jove, you might go on ad infinitum, to the joy and instruction of the world. ever yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [the following letter refers to dr. ogle's translation of aristotle, 'on the parts of animals' ( ):] charles darwin to w. ogle. down, february , . my dear dr. ogle, you must let me thank you for the pleasure which the introduction to the aristotle book has given me. i have rarely read anything which has interested me more, though i have not read as yet more than a quarter of the book proper. from quotations which i had seen, i had a high notion of aristotle's merits, but i had not the most remote notion what a wonderful man he was. linnaeus and cuvier have been my two gods, though in very different ways, but they were mere schoolboys to old aristotle. how very curious, also, his ignorance on some points, as on muscles as the means of movement. i am glad that you have explained in so probable a manner some of the grossest mistakes attributed to him. i never realized, before reading your book, to what an enormous summation of labour we owe even our common knowledge. i wish old aristotle could know what a grand defender of the faith he had found in you. believe me, my dear dr. ogle, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. [in february, he received a letter and a specimen from a mr. w.d. crick, which illustrated a curious mode of dispersal of bivalve shells, namely, by closure of their valves so as to hold on to the leg of a water-beetle. this class of fact had a special charm for him, and he wrote to 'nature,' describing the case. ('nature,' april , .) in april he received a letter from dr. w. van dyck, lecturer in zoology at the protestant college of beyrout. the letter showed that the street dogs of beyrout had been rapidly mongrelised by introduced european dogs, and the facts have an interesting bearing on my father's theory of sexual selection.] charles darwin to w.t. van dyck. down, april , . dear sir, after much deliberation, i have thought it best to send your very interesting paper to the zoological society, in hopes that it will be published in their journal. this journal goes to every scientific institution in the world, and the contents are abstracted in all year-books on zoology. therefore i have preferred it to 'nature,' though the latter has a wider circulation, but is ephemeral. i have prefaced your essay by a few general remarks, to which i hope that you will not object. of course i do not know that the zoological society, which is much addicted to mere systematic work, will publish your essay. if it does, i will send you copies of your essay, but these will not be ready for some months. if not published by the zoological society, i will endeavour to get 'nature' to publish it. i am very anxious that it should be published and preserved. dear sir, yours faithfully, ch. darwin. [the paper was read at a meeting of the zoological society on april th--the day before my father's death. the preliminary remarks with which dr. van dyck's paper is prefaced are thus the latest of my father's writings.] we must now return to an early period of his life, and give a connected account of his botanical work, which has hitherto been omitted. chapter .x. -- fertilisation of flowers. [in the letters already given we have had occasion to notice the general bearing of a number of botanical problems on the wider question of evolution. the detailed work in botany which my father accomplished by the guidance of the light cast on the study of natural history by his own work on evolution remains to be noticed. in a letter to mr. murray, september th, , speaking of his book on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' he says: "it will perhaps serve to illustrate how natural history may be worked under the belief of the modification of species." this remark gives a suggestion as to the value and interest of his botanical work, and it might be expressed in far more emphatic language without danger of exaggeration. in the same letter to mr. murray, he says: "i think this little volume will do good to the 'origin,' as it will show that i have worked hard at details." it is true that his botanical work added a mass of corroborative detail to the case for evolution, but the chief support to his doctrines given by these researches was of another kind. they supplied an argument against those critics who have so freely dogmatised as to the uselessness of particular structures, and as to the consequent impossibility of their having been developed by means of natural selection. his observations on orchids enabled him to say: "i can show the meaning of some of the apparently meaningless ridges, horns, who will now venture to say that this or that structure is useless?" a kindred point is expressed in a letter to sir j.d. hooker (may th, :)-- "when many parts of structure, as in the woodpecker, show distinct adaptation to external bodies, it is preposterous to attribute them to the effects of climate, etc., but when a single point alone, as a hooked seed, it is conceivable it may thus have arisen. i have found the study of orchids eminently useful in showing me how nearly all parts of the flower are co-adapted for fertilization by insects, and therefore the results of natural selection--even the most trifling details of structure." one of the greatest services rendered by my father to the study of natural history is the revival of teleology. the evolutionist studies the purpose or meaning of organs with the zeal of the older teleology, but with far wider and more coherent purpose. he has the invigorating knowledge that he is gaining not isolated conceptions of the economy of the present, but a coherent view of both past and present. and even where he fails to discover the use of any part, he may, by a knowledge of its structure, unravel the history of the past vicissitudes in the life of the species. in this way a vigour and unity is given to the study of the forms of organised beings, which before it lacked. this point has already been discussed in mr. huxley's chapter on the 'reception of the "origin of species",' and need not be here considered. it does, however, concern us to recognize that this "great service to natural science," as dr. gray describes it, was effected almost as much by his special botanical work as by the 'origin of species.' for a statement of the scope and influence of my father's botanical work, i may refer to mr. thiselton dyer's article in 'charles darwin,' one of the "nature series". mr. dyer's wide knowledge, his friendship with my father, and especially his power of sympathising with the work of others, combine to give this essay a permanent value. the following passage (page ) gives a true picture:-- "notwithstanding the extent and variety of his botanical work, mr. darwin always disclaimed any right to be regarded as a professed botanist. he turned his attention to plants, doubtless because they were convenient objects for studying organic phenomena in their least complicated forms; and this point of view, which, if one may use the expression without disrespect, had something of the amateur about it, was in itself of the greatest importance. for, from not being, till he took up any point, familiar with the literature bearing on it, his mind was absolutely free from any prepossession. he was never afraid of his facts, or of framing any hypothesis, however startling, which seemed to explain them... in any one else such an attitude would have produced much work that was crude and rash. but mr. darwin--if one may venture on language which will strike no one who had conversed with him as over-strained--seemed by gentle persuasion to have penetrated that reserve of nature which baffles smaller men. in other words, his long experience had given him a kind of instinctive insight into the method of attack of any biological problem, however unfamiliar to him, while he rigidly controlled the fertility of his mind in hypothetical explanations by the no less fertility of ingeniously devised experiment." to form any just idea of the greatness of the revolution worked by my father's researches in the study of the fertilisation of flowers, it is necessary to know from what a condition this branch of knowledge has emerged. it should be remembered that it was only during the early years of the present century that the idea of sex, as applied to plants, became at all firmly established. sachs, in his 'history of botany' ( ), has given some striking illustrations of the remarkable slowness with which its acceptance gained ground. he remarks that when we consider the experimental proofs given by camerarius ( ), and by kolreuter ( - ), it appears incredible that doubts should afterwards have been raised as to the sexuality of plants. yet he shows that such doubts did actually repeatedly crop up. these adverse criticisms rested for the most part on careless experiments, but in many cases on a priori arguments. even as late as , a book of this kind, which would now rank with circle squaring, or flat-earth philosophy, was seriously noticed in a botanical journal. a distinct conception of sex as applied to plants, had not long emerged from the mists of profitless discussion and feeble experiment, at the time when my father began botany by attending henslow's lectures at cambridge. when the belief in the sexuality of plants had become established as an incontrovertible piece of knowledge, a weight of misconception remained, weighing down any rational view of the subject. camerarius (sachs, 'geschichte,' page .) believed (naturally enough in his day) that hermaphrodite flowers are necessarily self-fertilised. he had the wit to be astonished at this, a degree of intelligence which, as sachs points out, the majority of his successors did not attain to. the following extracts from a note-book show that this point occurred to my father as early as :-- "do not plants which have male and female organs together [i.e. in the same flower] yet receive influence from other plants? does not lyell give some argument about varieties being difficult to keep [true] on account of pollen from other plants? because this may be applied to show all plants do receive intermixture." sprengel (christian conrad sprengel, - .), indeed, understood that the hermaphrodite structure of flowers by no means necessarily leads to self-fertilisation. but although he discovered that in many cases pollen is of necessity carried to the stigma of another flower, he did not understand that in the advantage gained by the intercrossing of distinct plants lies the key to the whole question. hermann muller has well remarked that this "omission was for several generations fatal to sprengel's work... for both at the time and subsequently, botanists felt above all the weakness of his theory, and they set aside, along with his defective ideas, his rich store of patient and acute observations and his comprehensive and accurate interpretations." it remained for my father to convince the world that the meaning hidden in the structure of flowers was to be found by seeking light in the same direction in which sprengel, seventy years before, had laboured. robert brown was the connecting link between them, for it was at his recommendation that my father in read sprengel's now celebrated 'secret of nature displayed.' ('das entdeckte geheimniss der natur im baue und in der befruchtung der blumen.' berlin, .) the book impressed him as being "full of truth," although "with some little nonsense." it not only encouraged him in kindred speculation, but guided him in his work, for in he speaks of verifying sprengel's observations. it may be doubted whether robert brown ever planted a more beautiful seed than in putting such a book into such hands. a passage in the 'autobiography' (volume i.) shows how it was that my father was attracted to the subject of fertilisation: "during the summer of , and i believe during the previous summer, i was led to attend to the cross-fertilisation of flowers by the aid of insects, from having come to the conclusion in my speculations on the origin of species, that crossing played an important part in keeping specific forms constant." the original connection between the study of flowers and the problem of evolution is curious, and could hardly have been predicted. moreover, it was not a permanent bond. as soon as the idea arose that the offspring of cross-fertilisation is, in the struggle for life, likely to conquer the seedlings of self-fertilised parentage, a far more vigorous belief in the potency of natural selection in moulding the structure of flowers is attained. a central idea is gained towards which experiment and observation may be directed. dr. gray has well remarked with regard to this central idea ('nature,' june , ):--"the aphorism, 'nature abhors a vacuum,' is a characteristic specimen of the science of the middle ages. the aphorism, nature abhors close fertilisation,' and the demonstration of the principle, belong to our age and to mr. darwin. to have originated this, and also the principle of natural selection... and to have applied these principles to the system of nature, in such a manner as to make, within a dozen years, a deeper impression upon natural history than has been made since linnaeus, is ample title for one man's fame." the flowers of the papilionaceae attracted his attention early, and were the subject of his first paper on fertilisation. ("gardeners' chronicle", , page . it appears that this paper was a piece of "over-time" work. he wrote to a friend, "that confounded leguminous paper was done in the afternoon, and the consequence was i had to go to moor park for a week.") the following extract from an undated letter to dr. asa gray seems to have been written before the publication of this paper, probably in or :-- "... what you say on papilionaceous flowers is very true; and i have no facts to show that varieties are crossed; but yet (and the same remark is applicable in a beautiful way to fumaria and dielytra, as i noticed many years ago), i must believe that the flowers are constructed partly in direct relation to the visits of insects; and how insects can avoid bringing pollen from other individuals i cannot understand. it is really pretty to watch the action of a humble-bee on the scarlet kidney bean, and in this genus (and in lathyrus grandiflorus) the honey is so placed that the bee invariably alights on that one side of the flower towards which the spiral pistil is protruded (bringing out with it pollen), and by the depression of the wing-petal is forced against the bee's side all dusted with pollen. (if you will look at a bed of scarlet kidney beans you will find that the wing-petals on the left side alone are all scratched by the tarsi of the bees. [note in the original letter by c. darwin.]) in the broom the pistil is rubbed on the centre of the back of the bee. i suspect there is something to be made out about the leguminosae, which will bring the case within our theory; though i have failed to do so. our theory will explain why in the vegetable and animal kingdom the act of fertilisation even in hermaphrodites usually takes place sub-jove, though thus exposed to great injury from damp and rain. in animals which cannot be [fertilised] by insects or wind, there is no case of land-animals being hermaphrodite without the concourse of two individuals." a letter to dr. asa gray (september th, ) gives the substance of the paper in the "gardeners' chronicle":-- "lately i was led to examine buds of kidney bean with the pollen shed; but i was led to believe that the pollen could hardly get on the stigma by wind or otherwise, except by bees visiting [the flower] and moving the wing petals: hence i included a small bunch of flowers in two bottles in every way treated the same: the flowers in one i daily just momentarily moved, as if by a bee; these set three fine pods, the other not one. of course this little experiment must be tried again, and this year in england it is too late, as the flowers seem now seldom to set. if bees are necessary to this flower's self-fertilisation, bees must almost cross them, as their dusted right-side of head and right legs constantly touch the stigma. "i have, also, lately been re-observing daily lobelia fulgens--this in my garden is never visited by insects, and never sets seeds, without pollen be put on the stigma (whereas the small blue lobelia is visited by bees and does set seed); i mention this because there are such beautiful contrivances to prevent the stigma ever getting its own pollen; which seems only explicable on the doctrine of the advantage of crosses." the paper was supplemented by a second in . ("gardeners' chronicle", , page . in another paper on fertilisation appeared in the "gardeners' chronicle", page , in which he explained the action of insects on vinca major. he was attracted to the periwinkle by the fact that it is not visited by insects and never set seeds.) the chief object of these publications seems to have been to obtain information as to the possibility of growing varieties of leguminous plants near each other, and yet keeping them true. it is curious that the papilionaceae should not only have been the first flowers which attracted his attention by their obvious adaptation to the visits of insects, but should also have constituted one of his sorest puzzles. the common pea and the sweet pea gave him much difficulty, because, although they are as obviously fitted for insect-visits as the rest of the order, yet their varieties keep true. the fact is that neither of these plants being indigenous, they are not perfectly adapted for fertilisation by british insects. he could not, at this stage of his observations, know that the co-ordination between a flower and the particular insect which fertilises it may be as delicate as that between a lock and its key, so that this explanation was not likely to occur to him. (he was of course alive to variety in the habits of insects. he published a short note in the "entomologists weekly intelligencer", , asking whether the tineina and other small moths suck flowers.) besides observing the leguminosae, he had already begun, as shown in the foregoing extracts, to attend to the structure of other flowers in relation to insects. at the beginning of he worked at leschenaultia (he published a short paper on the manner of fertilisation of this flower, in the "gardeners' chronicle", , page .), which at first puzzled him, but was ultimately made out. a passage in a letter chiefly relating to leschenaultia seems to show that it was only in the spring of that he began widely to apply his knowledge to the relation of insects to other flowers. this is somewhat surprising, when we remember that he had read sprengel many years before. he wrote (may ):-- "i should look at this curious contrivance as specially related to visits of insects; as i begin to think is almost universally the case." even in july he wrote to dr. asa gray:-- "there is no end to the adaptations. ought not these cases to make one very cautious when one doubts about the use of all parts? i fully believe that the structure of all irregular flowers is governed in relation to insects. insects are the lords of the floral (to quote the witty "athenaeum") world." he was probably attracted to the study of orchids by the fact that several kinds are common near down. the letters of show that these plants occupied a good deal of his attention; and in he gave part of the summer and all the autumn to the subject. he evidently considered himself idle for wasting time on orchids, which ought to have been given to 'variation under domestication.' thus he wrote:-- "there is to me incomparably more interest in observing than in writing; but i feel quite guilty in trespassing on these subjects, and not sticking to varieties of the confounded cocks, hens and ducks. i hear that lyell is savage at me. i shall never resist linum next summer." it was in the summer of that he made out one of the most striking and familiar facts in the book, namely, the manner in which the pollen masses in orchis are adapted for removal by insects. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker july :-- "i have been examining orchis pyramidalis, and it almost equals, perhaps even beats, your listera case; the sticky glands are congenitally united into a saddle-shaped organ, which has great power of movement, and seizes hold of a bristle (or proboscis) in an admirable manner, and then another movement takes place in the pollen masses, by which they are beautifully adapted to leave pollen on the two lateral stigmatic surfaces. i never saw anything so beautiful." in june of the same year he wrote:-- "you speak of adaptation being rarely visible, though present in plants. i have just recently been looking at the common orchis, and i declare i think its adaptations in every part of the flower quite as beautiful and plain, or even more beautiful than in the woodpecker. i have written and sent a notice for the "gardeners' chronicle" (june , . this seems to have attracted some attention, especially among entomologists, as it was reprinted in the "entomologists weekly intelligencer", .), on a curious difficulty in the bee orchis, and should much like to hear what you think of the case. in this article i have incidentally touched on adaptation to visits of insects; but the contrivance to keep the sticky glands fresh and sticky beats almost everything in nature. i never remember having seen it described, but it must have been, and, as i ought not in my book to give the observation as my own, i should be very glad to know where this beautiful contrivance is described." he wrote also to dr. gray, june , :-- "talking of adaptation, i have lately been looking at our common orchids, and i dare say the facts are as old and well-known as the hills, but i have been so struck with admiration at the contrivances, that i have sent a notice to the "gardeners' chronicle". the ophrys apifera, offers, as you will see, a curious contradiction in structure." besides attending to the fertilisation of the flowers he was already, in , busy with the homologies of the parts, a subject of which he made good use in the orchid book. he wrote to sir joseph hooker (july):-- "it is a real good joke my discussing homologies of orchids with you, after examining only three or four genera; and this very fact makes me feel positive i am right! i do not quite understand some of your terms; but sometime i must get you to explain the homologies; for i am intensely interested on the subject, just as at a game of chess." this work was valuable from a systematic point of view. in he wrote to mr. bentham:-- "it was very kind in you to write to me about the orchideae, for it has pleased me to an extreme degree that i could have been of the least use to you about the nature of the parts." the pleasure which his early observations on orchids gave him is shown in such extracts as the following from a letter to sir j.d. hooker (july , ):-- "you cannot conceive how the orchids have delighted me. they came safe, but box rather smashed; cylindrical old cocoa- or snuff-canister much safer. i enclose postage. as an account of the movement, i shall allude to what i suppose is oncidium, to make certain,--is the enclosed flower with crumpled petals this genus? also i most specially want to know what the enclosed little globular brown orchid is. i have only seen pollen of a cattleya on a bee, but surely have you not unintentionally sent me what i wanted most (after catasetum or mormodes), viz. one of the epidendreae?! i particularly want (and will presently tell you why) another spike of this little orchid, with older flowers, some even almost withered." his delight in observation is again shown in a letter to dr. gray ( ). referring to cruger's letters from trinidad, he wrote:--"happy man, he has actually seen crowds of bees flying round catasetum, with the pollinia sticking to their backs!" the following extracts of letters to sir j.d. hooker illustrate further the interest which his work excited in him:-- "veitch sent me a grand lot this morning. what wonderful structures! "i have now seen enough, and you must not send me more, for though i enjoy looking at them much, and it has been very useful to me, seeing so many different forms, it is idleness. for my object each species requires studying for days. i wish you had time to take up the group. i would give a good deal to know what the rostellum is, of which i have traced so many curious modifications. i suppose it cannot be one of the stigmas (it is a modification of the upper stigma.), there seems a great tendency for two lateral stigmas to appear. my paper, though touching on only subordinate points will run, i fear, to ms. folio pages! the beauty of the adaptation of parts seems to me unparalleled. i should think or guess waxy pollen was most differentiated. in cypripedium which seems least modified, and a much exterminated group, the grains are single. in all others, as far as i have seen, they are in packets of four; and these packets cohere into many wedge-formed masses in orchis; into eight, four, and finally two. it seems curious that a flower should exist, which could at most fertilise only two other flowers, seeing how abundant pollen generally is; this fact i look at as explaining the perfection of the contrivance by which the pollen, so important from its fewness, is carried from flower to flower" ( ). "i was thinking of writing to you to-day, when your note with the orchids came. what frightful trouble you have taken about vanilla; you really must not take an atom more; for the orchids are more play than real work. i have been much interested by epidendrum, and have worked all morning at them; for heaven's sake, do not corrupt me by any more" (august , ). he originally intended to publish his notes on orchids as a paper in the linnean society's journal, but it soon became evident that a separate volume would be a more suitable form of publication. in a letter to sir j.d. hooker, september , , he writes:-- "i have been acting, i fear that you will think, like a goose; and perhaps in truth i have. when i finished a few days ago my orchis paper, which turns out folio pages!! and thought of the expense of woodcuts, i said to myself, i will offer the linnean society to withdraw it, and publish it in a pamphlet. it then flashed on me that perhaps murray would publish it, so i gave him a cautious description, and offered to share risks and profits. this morning he writes that he will publish and take all risks, and share profits and pay for all illustrations. it is a risk, and heaven knows whether it will not be a dead failure, but i have not deceived murray, and [have] told him that it would interest those alone who cared much for natural history. i hope i do not exaggerate the curiosity of the many special contrivances." he wrote the two following letters to mr. murray about the publication of the book:] down, september [ ]. my dear sir, will you have the kindness to give me your opinion, which i shall implicitly follow. i have just finished a very long paper intended for linnean society (the title is enclosed), and yesterday for the first time it occurred to me that possibly it might be worth publishing separately which would save me trouble and delay. the facts are new, and have been collected during twenty years and strike me as curious. like a bridgewater treatise, the chief object is to show the perfection of the many contrivances in orchids. the subject of propagation is interesting to most people, and is treated in my paper so that any woman could read it. parts are dry and purely scientific; but i think my paper would interest a good many of such persons who care for natural history, but no others. ... it would be a very little book, and i believe you think very little books objectionable. i have myself great doubts on the subject. i am very apt to think that my geese are swans; but the subject seems to me curious and interesting. i beg you not to be guided in the least in order to oblige me, but as far as you can judge, please give me your opinion. if i were to publish separately, i would agree to any terms, such as half risk and half profit, or what you liked; but i would not publish on my sole risk, for to be frank, i have been told that no publisher whatever, under such circumstances, cares for the success of a book. charles darwin to j. murray. down, september [ ]. my dear sir, i am very much obliged for your note and very liberal offer. i have had some qualms and fears. all that i can feel sure of is that the ms. contains many new and curious facts, and i am sure the essay would have interested me, and will interest those who feel lively interest in the wonders of nature; but how far the public will care for such minute details, i cannot at all tell. it is a bold experiment; and at worst, cannot entail much loss; as a certain amount of sale will, i think, be pretty certain. a large sale is out of the question. as far as i can judge, generally the points which interest me i find interest others; but i make the experiment with fear and trembling,--not for my own sake, but for yours... [on september th he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "what a good soul you are not to sneer at me, but to pat me on the back. i have the greatest doubt whether i am not going to do, in publishing my paper, a most ridiculous thing. it would annoy me much, but only for murray's sake, if the publication were a dead failure." there was still much work to be done, and in october he was still receiving orchids from kew, and wrote to hooker:-- "it is impossible to thank you enough. i was almost mad at the wealth of orchids." and again-- "mr. veitch most generously has sent me two splendid buds of mormodes, which will be capital for dissection, but i fear will never be irritable; so for the sake of charity and love of heaven do, i beseech you, observe what movement takes place in cychnoches, and what part must be touched. mr. v. has also sent me one splendid flower of catasetum, the most wonderful orchid i have seen." on october th he wrote to sir joseph hooker:-- "it seems that i cannot exhaust your good nature. i have had the hardest day's work at catasetum and buds of mormodes, and believe i understand at last the mechanism of movements and the functions. catasetum is a beautiful case of slight modification of structure leading to new functions. i never was more interested in any subject in my life than in this of orchids. i owe very much to you." again to the same friend, november , :-- "if you really can spare another catasetum, when nearly ready, i shall be most grateful; had i not better send for it? the case is truly marvellous; the (so-called) sensation, or stimulus from a light touch is certainly transmitted through the antennae for more than one inch instantaneously... a cursed insect or something let my last flower off last night." professor de candolle has remarked ('darwin considere, etc.,' 'archives des sciences physiques et naturelles,' eme periode. tome vii. , (may).) of my father, "ce n'est pas lui qui aurait demande de construire des palais pour y loger des laboratoires." this was singularly true of his orchid work, or rather it would be nearer the truth to say that he had no laboratory, for it was only after the publication of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' that he built himself a greenhouse. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker (december th, ):-- "and now i am going to tell you a most important piece of news!! i have almost resolved to build a small hot-house; my neighbour's really firs-rate gardener has suggested it, and offered to make me plans, and see that it is well done, and he is really a clever fellow, who wins lots of prizes, and is very observant. he believes that we should succeed with a little patience; it will be a grand amusement for me to experiment with plants." again he wrote (february th, ):-- "i write now because the new hot-house is ready, and i long to stock it, just like a schoolboy. could you tell me pretty soon what plants you can give me; and then i shall know what to order? and do advise me how i had better get such plants as you can spare. would it do to send my tax-cart early in the morning, on a day that was not frosty, lining the cart with mats, and arriving here before night? i have no idea whether this degree of exposure (and of course the cart would be cold) could injure stov-plants; they would be about five hours (with bait) on the journey home." a week later he wrote:-- "you cannot imagine what pleasure your plants give me (far more than your dead wedgwood ware can give you); and i go and gloat over them, but we privately confessed to each other, that if they were not our own, perhaps we should not see such transcendent beauty in each leaf." and in march, when he was extremely unwell he wrote:-- "a few words about the stove-plants; they do so amuse me. i have crawled to see them two or three times. will you correct and answer, and return enclosed. i have hunted in all my books and cannot find these names (his difficulty with regard to the names of plants is illustrated, with regard to a lupine on which he was at work, in an extract from a letter (july , ) to sir j.d. hooker: "i sent to the nursery garden, whence i bought the seed, and could only hear that it was 'the common blue lupine,' the man saying 'he was no scholard, and did not know latin, and that parties who make experiments ought to find out the names.'"), and i like much to know the family." the book was published may th, . of its reception he writes to murray, june th and th:-- "the botanists praise my orchid-book to the skies. some one sent me (perhaps you) the 'parthenon,' with a good review. the "athenaeum" (may , .) treats me with very kind pity and contempt; but the reviewer knew nothing of his subject." "there is a superb, but i fear exaggerated, review in the 'london review,' (june , .) but i have not been a fool, as i thought i was, to publish (doubts on this point still, however, occurred to him about this time. he wrote to prof. oliver (june ): "i am glad that you have read my orchis-book and seem to approve of it; for i never published anything which i so much doubted whether it was worth publishing, and indeed i still doubt. the subject interested me beyond what, i suppose, it is worth."); for asa gray, about the most competent judge in the world, thinks almost as highly of the book as does the 'london review.' the "athenaeum" will hinder the sale greatly." the rev. m.j. berkeley was the author of the notice in the 'london review,' as my father learned from sir j.d. hooker, who added, 'i thought it very well done indeed. i have read a good deal of the orchid-book, and echo all he says." to this my father replied (june th, ):-- "my dear old friend, you speak of my warming the cockles of your heart, but you will never know how often you have warmed mine. it is not your approbation of my scientific work (though i care for that more than for any one's): it is something deeper. to this day i remember keenly a letter you wrote to me from oxford, when i was at the water-cure, and how it cheered me when i was utterly weary of life. well, my orchis-book is a success (but i do not know whether it sells.)" in another letter to the same friend, he wrote:-- "you have pleased me much by what you say in regard to bentham and oliver approving of my book; for i had got a sort of nervousness, and doubted whether i had not made an egregious fool of myself, and concocted pleasant little stinging remarks for reviews, such as 'mr. darwin's head seems to have been turned by a certain degree of success, and he thinks that the most trifling observations are worth publication.'" mr. bentham's approval was given in his presidential address to the linnean society, may , , and was all the more valuable because it came from one who was by no means supposed to be favourable to evolutionary doctrines.] charles darwin to asa gray. down, june [ ]. my dear gray, your generous sympathy makes you overestimate what you have read of my orchid-book. but your letter of may th and th has given me an almost foolish amount of satisfaction. the subject interested me, i knew, beyond its real value; but i had lately got to think that i had made myself a complete fool by publishing in a semi-popular form. now i shall confidently defy the world. i have heard that bentham and oliver approve of it; but i have heard the opinion of no one else whose opinion is worth a farthing... no doubt my volume contains much error: how curiously difficult it is to be accurate, though i try my utmost. your notes have interested me beyond measure. i can now afford to d-- my critics with ineffable complacency of mind. cordial thanks for this benefit. it is surprising to me that you should have strength of mind to care for science, amidst the awful events daily occurring in your country. i daily look at the "times" with almost as much interest as an american could do. when will peace come? it is dreadful to think of the desolation of large parts of your magnificent country; and all the speechless misery suffered by many. i hope and think it not unlikely that we english are wrong in concluding that it will take a long time for prosperity to return to you. it is an awful subject to reflect on... [dr. asa gray reviewed the book in 'silliman's journal' ('silliman's journal,' volume xxiv. page . here is given an account of the fertilisation of platanthera hookeri. p. hyperborea is discussed in dr. gray's 'enumeration' in the same volume, page ; also, with other species, in a second notice of the orchid-book at page .), where he speaks, in strong terms, of the fascination which it must have for even slightly instructed readers. he made, too, some original observations on an american orchid, and these first-fruits of the subject, sent in ms. or proof sheet to my father, were welcomed by him in a letter (july rd):-- "last night, after writing the above, i read the great bundle of notes. little did i think what i had to read. what admirable observations! you have distanced me on my own hobby-horse! i have not had for weeks such a glow of pleasure as your observations gave me." the next letter refers to the publication of the review:] charles darwin to asa gray. down, july [ ]. my dear gray, i hardly know what to thank for first. your stamps gave infinite satisfaction. i took him (one of his boys who was ill.) first one lot, and then an hour afterwards another lot. he actually raised himself on one elbow to look at them. it was the first animation he showed. he said only: "you must thank professor gray awfully." in the evening after a long silence, there came out the oracular sentence: "he is awfully kind." and indeed you are, overworked as you are, to take so much trouble for our poor dear little man.--and now i must begin the "awfullys" on my own account: what a capital notice you have published on the orchids! it could not have been better; but i fear that you overrate it. i am very sure that i had not the least idea that you or any one would approve of it so much. i return your last note for the chance of your publishing any notice on the subject; but after all perhaps you may not think it worth while; yet in my judgment several of your facts, especially platanthera hyperborea, are much too good to be merged in a review. but i have always noticed that you are prodigal in originality in your reviews... [sir joseph hooker reviewed the book in the "gardeners' chronicle", writing in a successful imitation of the style of lindley, the editor. my father wrote to sir joseph (november , ):-- "so you did write the review in the "gardeners' chronicle". once or twice i doubted whether it was lindley; but when i came to a little slap at r. brown, i doubted no longer. you arch-rogue! i do not wonder you have deceived others also. perhaps i am a conceited dog; but if so, you have much to answer for; i never received so much praise, and coming from you i value it much more than from any other." with regard to botanical opinion generally, he wrote to dr. gray, "i am fairly astonished at the success of my book with botanists." among naturalists who were not botanists, lyell was pre-eminent in his appreciation of the book. i have no means of knowing when he read it, but in later life, as i learn from professor judd, he was enthusiastic in praise of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' which he considered "next to the 'origin,' as the most valuable of all darwin's works." among the general public the author did not at first hear of many disciples, thus he wrote to his cousin fox in september : "hardly any one not a botanist, except yourself, as far as i know, has cared for it." a favourable notice appeared in the "saturday review", october th, ; the reviewer points out that the book would escape the angry polemics aroused by the 'origin.' (dr. gray pointed out that if the orchid-book (with a few trifling omissions) had appeared before the 'origin,' the author would have been canonised rather than anathematised by the natural theologians.) this is illustrated by a review in the "literary churchman", in which only one fault found, namely, that mr. darwin's expression of admiration at the contrivances in orchids is too indirect a way of saying, "o lord, how manifold are thy works!" a somewhat similar criticism occurs in the 'edinburgh review' (october ). the writer points out that mr. darwin constantly uses phrases, such as "beautiful contrivance," "the labellum is... in order to attract," "the nectar is purposely lodged." the reviewer concludes his discussion thus: "we know, too that these purposes and ideas are not our own, but the ideas and purposes of another." the 'edinburgh' reviewer's treatment of this subject was criticised in the "saturday review", november th, : with reference to this article my father wrote to sir joseph hooker (december th, ):-- "here is an odd chance; my nephew henry parker, an oxford classic, and fellow of oriel, came here this evening; and i asked him whether he knew who had written the little article in the "saturday", smashing the [edinburgh reviewer], which we liked; and after a little hesitation he owned he had. i never knew that he wrote in the "saturday"; and was it not an odd chance?" the 'edinburgh' article was written by the duke of argyll, and has since been made use of in his 'reign of law,' . mr. wallace replied ('quarterly journal of science,' october . republished in 'natural selection,' .) to the duke's criticisms, making some specially good remarks on those which refer to orchids. he shows how, by a "beautiful self-acting adjustment," the nectary of the orchid angraecum (from to inches in length), and the proboscis of a moth sufficiently long to reach the nectar, might be developed by natural selection. he goes on to point out that on any other theory we must suppose that the flower was created with an enormously long nectary, and that then by a special act, an insect was created fitted to visit the flower, which would otherwise remain sterile. with regard to this point my father wrote (october or , ):-- "i forgot to remark how capitally you turn the tables on the duke, when you make him create the angraecum and moth by special creation." if we examine the literature relating to the fertilisation of flowers, we do not find that this new branch of study showed any great activity immediately after the publication of the orchid-book. there are a few papers by asa gray, in and , by hildebrand in , and by moggridge in , but the great mass of work by axell, delpino, hildebrand, and the mullers, did not begin to appear until about . the period during which the new views were being assimilated, and before they became thoroughly fruitful, was, however, surprisingly short. the later activity in this department may be roughly gauged by the fact that the valuable 'bibliography,' given by prof. d'arcy thompson in his translation of muller's 'befruchtung' ( ), contains references to papers. besides the book on orchids, my father wrote two or three papers on the subject, which will be found mentioned in the appendix. the earliest of these, on the three sexual forms of catasetum, was published in ; it is an anticipation of part of the orchid-book, and was merely published in the linnean society's journal, in acknowledgment of the use made of a specimen in the society's possession. the possibility of apparently distinct species being merely sexual forms of a single species, suggested a characteristic experiment, which is alluded to in the following letter to one of his earliest disciples in the study of the fertilisation of flowers:] charles darwin to j. traherne moggridge. (the late mr. moggridge, author of 'harvesting ants and trap-door spiders,' 'flora of mentone,' etc.) down, october [ ]. my dear sir, i am especially obliged to you for your beautiful plates and letter-press; for no single point in natural history interests and perplexes me so much as the self-fertilisation (he once remarked to dr. norman moore that one of the things that made him wish to live a few thousand years, was his desire to see the extinction of the bee-orchis,--an end to which he believed its self-fertilising habit was leading.) of the bee-orchis. you have already thrown some light on the subject, and your present observations promise to throw more. i formed two conjectures: first, that some insect during certain seasons might cross the plants, but i have almost given up this; nevertheless, pray have a look at the flowers next season. secondly, i conjectured that the spider and bee-orchis might be a crossing and self-fertile form of the same species. accordingly i wrote some years ago to an acquaintance, asking him to mark some spider-orchids, and observe whether they retained the same character; but he evidently thought the request as foolish as if i had asked him to mark one of his cows with a ribbon, to see if it would turn next spring into a horse. now will you be so kind as to tie a string round the stem of a half-a-dozen spider-orchids, and when you leave mentone dig them up, and i would try and cultivate them and see if they kept constant; but i should require to know in what sort of soil and situations they grow. it would be indispensable to mark the plant so that there could be no mistake about the individual. it is also just possible that the same plant would throw up, at different seasons different flower-scapes, and the marked plants would serve as evidence. with many thanks, my dear sir, yours sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--i send by this post my paper on climbing plants, parts of which you might like to read. [sir thomas farrer and dr. w. ogle were also guided and encouraged by my father in their observations. the following refers to a paper by sir thomas farrer, in the 'annals and magazine of natural history,' , on the fertilisation of the scarlet runner:] charles darwin to t.h. farrer. down, september , . my dear mr. farrer, i grieve to say that the main features of your case are known. i am the sinner and described them some ten years ago. but i overlooked many details, as the appendage to the single stamen, and several other points. i send my notes, but i must beg for their return, as i have no other copy. i quite agree, the facts are most striking, especially as you put them. are you sure that the hive-bee is the cutter? it is against my experience. if sure, make the point more prominent, or if not sure, erase it. i do not think the subject is quite new enough for the linnean society; but i dare say the 'annals and magazine of natural history,' or "gardeners' chronicle" would gladly publish your observations, and it is a great pity they should be lost. if you like i would send your paper to either quarter with a note. in this case you must give a title, and your name, and perhaps it would be well to premise your remarks with a line of reference to my paper stating that you had observed independently and more fully. i have read my own paper over after an interval of several years, and am amused at the caution with which i put the case that the final end was for crossing distinct individuals, of which i was then as fully convinced as now, but i knew that the doctrine would shock all botanists. now the opinion is becoming familiar. to see penetration of pollen-tubes is not difficult, but in most cases requires some practice with dissecting under a one-tenth of an inch focal distance single lens; and just at first this will seem to you extremely difficult. what a capital observer you are--a first-rate naturalist has been sacrificed, or partly sacrificed to public life. believe me, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--if you come across any large salvia, look at it--the contrivance is admirable. it went to my heart to tell a man who came here a few weeks ago with splendid drawings and ms. on salvia, that the work had been all done in germany. (dr. w. ogle, the observer of the fertilisation of salvia here alluded to, published his results in the 'pop. science review,' . he refers both gracefully and gratefully to his relationship with my father in the introduction to his translation of kerner's 'flowers and their unbidden guests.') [the following extract is from a letter, november th, , to sir thomas farrer, written as i learn from him, "in answer to a request for some advice as to the best modes of observation." "in my opinion the best plan is to go on working and making copious notes, without much thought of publication, and then if the results turn out striking publish them. it is my impression, but i do not feel sure that i am right, that the best and most novel plan would be, instead of describing the means of fertilisation in particular plants, to investigate the part which certain structures play with all plants or throughout certain orders; for instance, the brush of hairs on the style, or the diadelphous condition of the stamens, in the leguminosae, or the hairs within the corolla, etc. etc. looking to your note, i think that this is perhaps the plan which you suggest. "it is well to remember that naturalists value observations far more than reasoning; therefore your conclusions should be as often as possible fortified by noticing how insects actually do the work." in , sir thomas farrer corresponded with my father on the fertilisation of passiflora and of tacsonia. he has given me his impressions of the correspondence:-- "i had suggested that the elaborate series of chevaux-de-frise, by which the nectary of the common passiflora is guarded, were specially calculated to protect the flower from the stiff-beaked humming birds which would not fertilise it, and to facilitate the access of the little proboscis of the humble bee, which would do so; whilst, on the other hand, the long pendent tube and flexible valve-like corona which retains the nectar of tacsonia would shut out the bee, which would not, and admit the humming bird which would, fertilise that flower. the suggestion is very possibly worthless, and could only be verified or refuted by examination of flowers in the countries where they grow naturally... what interested me was to see that on this as on almost any other point of detailed observation, mr. darwin could always say, 'yes; but at one time i made some observations myself on this particular point; and i think you will find, etc. etc.' that he should after years of interval remember that he had noticed the peculiar structure to which i was referring in the passiflora princeps struck me at the time as very remarkable." with regard to the spread of a belief in the adaptation of flowers for cross-fertilisation, my father wrote to mr. bentham april , : "most of the criticisms which i sometimes meet with in french works against the frequency of crossing, i am certain are the result of mere ignorance. i have never hitherto found the rule to fail that when an author describes the structure of a flower as specially adapted for self-fertilisation, it is really adapted for crossing. the fumariaceae offer a good instance of this, and treviranus threw this order in my teeth; but in corydalis, hildebrand shows how utterly false the idea of self-fertilisation is. this author's paper on salvia is really worth reading, and i have observed some species, and know that he is accurate." the next letter refers to professor hildebrand's paper on corydalis, published in the 'proc. internat. hort. congress,' london, , and in pringsheim's 'jahrbucher,' volume v. the memoir on salvia alluded to is contained in the previous volume of the same journal:] charles darwin to f. hildebrand. (professor of botany at freiburg.) down, may [ ]. my dear sir, the state of my health prevents my attending the hort. congress; but i forwarded yesterday your paper to the secretary, and if they are not overwhelmed with papers, yours will be gladly received. i have made many observations on the fumariaceae, and convinced myself that they were adapted for insect agency; but i never observed anything nearly so curious as your most interesting facts. i hope you will repeat your experiments on the corydalis on a larger scale, and especially on several distinct plants; for your plant might have been individually peculiar, like certain individual plants of lobelia, etc., described by gartner, and of passiflora and orchids described by mr. scott... since writing to you before, i have read your admirable memoir on salvia, and it has interested me almost as much as when i first investigated the structure of orchids. your paper illustrates several points in my 'origin of species,' especially the transition of organs. knowing only two or three species in the genus, i had often marvelled how one cell of the anther could have been transformed into the movable plate or spoon; and how well you show the gradations; but i am surprised that you did not more strongly insist on this point. i shall be still more surprised if you do not ultimately come to the same belief with me, as shown by so many beautiful contrivances, that all plants require, from some unknown cause, to be occasionally fertilized by pollen from a distinct individual. with sincere respect, believe me, my dear sir, yours very faithfully, ch. darwin. [the following letter refers to the late hermann muller's 'befruchtung der blumen,' by far the most valuable of the mass of literature originating in the 'fertilisation of orchids.' an english translation, by prof. d'arcy thompson was published in . my father's "prefatory notice" to this work is dated february , , and is therefore almost the last of his writings:] charles darwin to h. muller. down, may , . my dear sir, owing to all sorts of interruptions and to my reading german so slowly, i have read only to page of your book; but i must have the pleasure of telling you how very valuable a work it appears to me. independently of the many original observations, which of course form the most important part, the work will be of the highest use as a means of reference to all that has been done on the subject. i am fairly astonished at the number of species of insects, the visits of which to different flowers you have recorded. you must have worked in the most indefatigable manner. about half a year ago the editor of 'nature' suggested that it would be a grand undertaking if a number of naturalists were to do what you have already done on so large a scale with respect to the visits of insects. i have been particularly glad to read your historical sketch, for i had never before seen all the references put together. i have sometimes feared that i was in error when i said that c.k. sprengel did not fully perceive that cross-fertilisation was the final end of the structure of flowers; but now this fear is relieved, and it is a great satisfaction to me to believe that i have aided in making his excellent book more generally known. nothing has surprised me more than to see in your historical sketch how much i myself have done on the subject, as it never before occurred to me to think of all my papers as a whole. but i do not doubt that your generous appreciation of the labours of others has led you to over-estimate what i have done. with very sincere thanks and respect, believe me, yours faithfully, charles darwin. p.s.--i have mentioned your book to almost every one who, as far as i know, cares for the subject in england; and i have ordered a copy to be send to our royal society. [the next letter, to dr. behrens, refers to the same subject as the last:] charles darwin to w. behrens. down, august [ ]. dear sir, i am very much obliged to you for having sent me your 'geschichte der bestaubungs-theorie' (progr. der k. gewerbschule zu elberfeld, , .), and which has interested me much. it has put some things in a new light, and has told me other things which i did not know. i heartily agree with you in your high appreciation of poor old c. sprengel's work; and one regrets bitterly that he did not live to see his labours thus valued. it rejoices me also to notice how highly you appreciate h. muller, who has always seemed to me an admirable observer and reasoner. i am at present endeavouring to persuade an english publisher to bring out a translation of his 'befruchtung.' lastly, permit me to thank you for your very generous remarks on my works. by placing what i have been able to do on this subject in systematic order, you have made me think more highly of my own work than i ever did before! nevertheless, i fear that you have done me more than justice. i remain, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged, charles darwin. [the letter which follows was called forth by dr. gray's article in 'nature,' to which reference has already been made, and which appeared june , :] charles darwin to asa gray. down, june [ ]. my dear gray, i was rejoiced to see your hand-writing again in your note of the th, of which more anon. i was astonished to see announced about a week ago that you were going to write in 'nature' an article on me, and this morning i received an advance copy. it is the grandest thing ever written about me, especially as coming from a man like yourself. it has deeply pleased me, particularly some of your side remarks. it is a wonderful thing to me to live to see my name coupled in any fashion with that of robert brown. but you are a bold man, for i am sure that you will be sneered at by not a few botanists. i have never been so honoured before, and i hope it will do me good and make me try to be as careful as possible; and good heavens, how difficult accuracy is! i feel a very proud man, but i hope this won't last... [fritz muller has observed that the flowers of hedychium are so arranged that the pollen is removed by the wings of hovering butterflies. my father's prediction of this observation is given in the following letter:] charles darwin to h. muller. down, august , . ... i was much interested by your brother's article on hedychium; about two years ago i was so convinced that the flowers were fertilized by the tips of the wings of large moths, that i wrote to india to ask a man to observe the flowers and catch the moths at work, and he sent me to sphin-moths, but so badly packed that they all arrived in fragments; and i could make out nothing... yours sincerely, ch. darwin. [the following extract from a letter (february , ), to dr. gray refers to another prediction fulfilled:-- "i have of course seen no one, and except good dear hooker, i hear from no one. he, like a good and true friend, though so overworked, often writes to me. "i have had one letter which has interested me greatly, with a paper, which will appear in the linnean journal, by dr. cruger of trinidad, which shows that i am all right about catasetum, even to the spot where the pollinia adhere to the bees, which visit the flower, as i said, to gnaw the labellum. cruger's account of coryanthes and the use of the bucket-like labellum full of water beats everything: i suspect that the bees being well wetted flattens their hairs, and allows the viscid disc to adhere."] charles darwin to the marquis de saporta. down, december , . my dear sir, i thank you sincerely for your long and most interesting letter, which i should have answered sooner had it not been delayed in london. i had not heard before that i was to be proposed as a corresponding member of the institute. living so retired a life as i do, such honours affect me very little, and i can say with entire truth that your kind expression of sympathy has given and will give me much more pleasure than the election itself, should i be elected. your idea that dicotyledonous plants were not developed in force until sucking insects had been evolved seems to me a splendid one. i am surprised that the idea never occurred to me, but this is always the case when one first hears a new and simple explanation of some mysterious phenomenon... i formerly showed that we might fairly assume that the beauty of flowers, their sweet odour and copious nectar, may be attributed to the existence of flower-haunting insects, but your idea, which i hope you will publish, goes much further and is much more important. with respect to the great development of mammifers in the later geological periods following from the development of dicotyledons, i think it ought to be proved that such animals as deer, cows, horses, etc. could not flourish if fed exclusively on the gramineae and other anemophilous monocotyledons; and i do not suppose that any evidence on this head exists. your suggestion of studying the manner of fertilisation of the surviving members of the most ancient forms of the dicotyledons is a very good one, and i hope that you will keep it in mind yourself, for i have turned my attention to other subjects. delpino i think says that magnolia is fertilised by insects which gnaw the petals, and i should not be surprised if the same fact holds good with nymphaea. whenever i have looked at the flowers of these latter plants i have felt inclined to admit the view that petals are modified stamens, and not modified leaves; though poinsettia seems to show that true leaves might be converted into coloured petals. i grieve to say that i have never been properly grounded in botany and have studied only special points--therefore i cannot pretend to express any opinion on your remarks on the origin of the flowers of the coniferae, gnetaceae, etc.; but i have been delighted with what you say on the conversion of a monoecious species into a hermaphrodite one by the condensations of the verticils on a branch bearing female flowers near the summit, and male flowers below. i expect hooker to come here before long, and i will then show him your drawing, and if he makes any important remarks i will communicate with you. he is very busy at present in clearing off arrears after his american expedition, so that i do not like to trouble him, even with the briefest note. i am at present working with my son at some physiological subjects, and we are arriving at very curious results, but they are not as yet sufficiently certain to be worth communicating to you... [in a second edition of the 'fertilisation of orchids' was published, the first edition having been for some time out of print. the new edition was remodelled and almost re-written, and a large amount of new matter added, much of which the author owed to his friend fritz muller. with regard to this edition he wrote to dr. gray:-- "i do not suppose i shall ever again touch the book. after much doubt i have resolved to act in this way with all my books for the future; that is to correct them once and never touch them again, so as to use the small quantity of work left in me for new matter." he may have felt a diminution of his powers of reviewing large bodies of facts, such as would be needed in the preparation of new editions, but his powers of observation were certainly not diminished. he wrote to mr. dyer on july , :] my dear dyer, thalia dealbata was sent me from kew: it has flowered and after looking casually at the flowers, they have driven me almost mad, and i have worked at them for a week: it is as grand a case as that of catasetum. pistil vigorously motile (so that whole flower shakes when pistil suddenly coils up); when excited by a touch the two filaments [are] produced laterally and transversely across the flower (just over the nectar) from one of the petals or modified stamens. it is splendid to watch the phenomenon under a weak power when a bristle is inserted into a young flower which no insect has visited. as far as i know stylidium is the sole case of sensitive pistil and here it is the pistil + stamens. in thalia (hildebrand has described an explosive arrangement in some of the maranteae--the tribe to which thalia belongs.) cross-fertilisation is ensured by the wonderful movement, if bees visit several flowers. i have now relieved my mind and will tell the purport of this note--viz. if any other species of thalia besides t. dealbata should flower with you, for the love of heaven and all the saints, send me a few in tin box with damp moss. your insane friend, ch. darwin. [in dr. ogle's translation of kerner's interesting book, 'flowers and their unbidden guests,' was published. my father, who felt much interest in the translation (as appears in the following letter), contributed some prefatory words of approval:] charles darwin to w. ogle. down, december [ ]. ... i have now read kerner's book, which is better even than i anticipated. the translation seems to me as clear as daylight, and written in forcible and good familiar english. i am rather afraid that it is too good for the english public, which seems to like very washy food, unless it be administered by some one whose name is well-known, and then i suspect a good deal of the unintelligible is very pleasing to them. i hope to heaven that i may be wrong. anyhow, you and mrs. ogle have done a right good service for botanical science. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--you have done me much honour in your prefatory remarks. [one of the latest references to his orchid-work occurs in a letter to mr. bentham, february , . it shows the amount of pleasure which this subject gave to my father, and (what is characteristic of him) that his reminiscence of the work was one of delight in the observations which preceded its publication. not to the applause which followed it:-- "they are wonderful creatures, these orchids, and i sometimes think with a glow of pleasure, when i remember making out some little point in their method of fertilisation."] chapter .xi. -- the 'effects of cross- and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom.' . [this book, as pointed out in the 'autobiography,' is a complement to the 'fertilisation of orchids,' because it shows how important are the results of cross-fertilisation which are ensured by the mechanisms described in that book. by proving that the offspring of cross-fertilisation are more vigorous than the offspring of self-fertilisation, he showed that one circumstance which influences the fate of young plants in the struggle for life is the degree to which their parents are fitted for cross-fertilisation. he thus convinced himself that the intensity of the struggle (which he had elsewhere shown to exist among young plants) is a measure of the strength of a selective agency perpetually sifting out every modification in the structure of flowers which can effect its capabilities for cros-fertilisation. the book is also valuable in another respect, because it throws light on the difficult problems of the origin of sexuality. the increased vigour resulting from cross-fertilisation is allied in the closest manner to the advantage gained by change of conditions. so strongly is this the case, that in some instances cross-fertilisation gives no advantage to the offspring, unless the parents have lived under slightly different conditions. so that the really important thing is not that two individuals of different blood shall unite, but two individuals which have been subjected to different conditions. we are thus led to believe that sexuality is a means for infusing vigour into the offspring by the coalescence of differentiated elements, an advantage which could not follow if reproductions were entirely asexual. it is remarkable that this book, the result of eleven years of experimental work, owed its origin to a chance observation. my father had raised two beds of linaria vulgaris--one set being the offspring of cross- and the other of self-fertilisation. these plants were grown for the sake of some observations on inheritance, and not with any view to cross-breeding, and he was astonished to observe that the offspring of self-fertilisation were clearly less vigorous than the others. it seemed incredible to him that this result could be due to a single act of self-fertilisation, and it was only in the following year when precisely the same result occurred in the case of a similar experiment on inheritance in carnations, that his attention was "thoroughly aroused" and that he determined to make a series of experiments specially directed to the question. the following letters give some account of the work in question.] charles darwin to asa gray. september , [ ?]. ... i have just begun a large course of experiments on the germination of the seed, and on the growth of the young plants when raised from a pistil fertilised by pollen from the same flower, and from pollen from a distinct plant of the same, or of some other variety. i have not made sufficient experiments to judge certainly, but in some cases the difference in the growth of the young plants is highly remarkable. i have taken every kind of precaution in getting seed from the same plant, in germinating the seed on my own chimney-piece, in planting the seedlings in the same flower-pot, and under this similar treatment i have seen the young seedlings from the crossed seed exactly twice as tall as the seedlings from the sel-fertilised seed; both seeds having germinated on the same day. if i can establish this fact (but perhaps it will all go to the dogs), in some fifty cases, with plants of different orders, i think it will be very important, for then we shall positively know why the structure of every flower permits, or favours, or necessitates an occasional cross with a distinct individual. but all this is rather cooking my hare before i have caught it. but somehow it is a great pleasure to me to tell you what i am about. believe me, my dear gray, ever yours most truly, and with cordial thanks, ch. darwin. charles darwin to g. bentham. april , . ... i am experimenting on a very large scale on the difference in power of growth between plants raised from self-fertilised and crossed seeds; and it is no exaggeration to say that the difference in growth and vigour is sometimes truly wonderful. lyell, huxley and hooker have seen some of my plants, and been astonished; and i should much like to show them to you. i always supposed until lately that no evil effects would be visible until after several generations of self-fertilisation; but now i see that one generation sometimes suffices; and the existence of dimorphic plants and all the wonderful contrivances of orchids are quite intelligible to me. with cordial thanks for your letter, which has pleased me greatly, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [an extract from a letter to dr. gray (march , ) mentions the progress of the work:-- "i worked last summer hard at drosera, but could not finish till i got fresh plants, and consequently took up the effects of crossing and sel-fertilising plants, and am got so interested that drosera must go to the dogs till i finish with this, and get it published; but then i will resume my beloved drosera, and i heartily apologise for having sent the precious little things even for a moment to the dogs." the following letters give the author's impression of his own book.] charles darwin to j. murray. down, september , . my dear sir, i have just received proofs in sheet of five sheets, so you will have to decide soon how many copies will have to be struck off. i do not know what to advise. the greater part of the book is extremely dry, and the whole on a special subject. nevertheless, i am convinced that the book is of value, and i am convinced that for many years copies will be occasionally sold. judging from the sale of my former books, and from supposing that some persons will purchase it to complete the set of my works, i would suggest . but you must be guided by your larger experience. i will only repeat that i am convinced the book is of some permanent value... charles darwin to victor carus. down, september , . my dear sir, i sent by this morning's post the four first perfect sheets of my new book, the title of which you will see on the first page, and which will be published early in november. i am sorry to say that it is only shorter by a few pages than my 'insectivorous plants.' the whole is now in type, though i have corrected finally only half the volume. you will, therefore, rapidly receive the remainder. the book is very dull. chapters ii. to vi., inclusive, are simply a record of experiments. nevertheless, i believe (though a man can never judge his own books) that the book is valuable. you will have to decide whether it is worth translating. i hope so. it has cost me very great labour, and the results seem to me remarkable and well established. if you translate it, you could easily get aid for chapters ii. to vi., as there is here endless, but i have thought necessary repetition. i shall be anxious to hear what you decide... i most sincerely hope that your health has been fairly good this summer. my dear sir, yours very truly, ch. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, october , . my dear gray, i send by this post all the clean sheets as yet printed, and i hope to send the remainder within a fortnight. please observe that the first six chapters are not readable, and the six last very dull. still i believe that the results are valuable. if you review the book, i shall be very curious to see what you think of it, for i care more for your judgment than for that of almost any one else. i know also that you will speak the truth, whether you approve or disapprove. very few will take the trouble to read the book, and i do not expect you to read the whole, but i hope you will read the latter chapters. ... i am so sick of correcting the press and licking my horrid bad style into intelligible english. [the 'effects of cross and self-fertilisation' was published on november , , and copies were sold before the end of the year. the following letter refers to a review in 'nature' (february , .):] charles darwin to w. thiselton dyer. down, february , . dear dyer, i must tell you how greatly i am pleased and honoured by your article in 'nature,' which i have just read. you are an adept in saying what will please an author, not that i suppose you wrote with this express intention. i should be very well contented to deserve a fraction of your praise. i have also been much interested, and this is better than mere pleasure, by your argument about the separation of the sexes. i dare say that i am wrong, and will hereafter consider what you say more carefully: but at present i cannot drive out of my head that the sexes must have originated from two individuals, slightly different, which conjugated. but i am aware that some cases of conjugation are opposed to any such views. with hearty thanks, yours sincerely, charles darwin. chapter .xii. -- 'different forms of flowers on plants of the same species.' . [the volume bearing the above title was published in , and was dedicated by the author to professor asa gray, "as a small tribute of respect and affection." it consists of certain earlier papers re-edited, with the addition of a quantity of new matter. the subjects treated in the book are:-- . heterostyled plants. . polygamous, dioecious, and gynodioecious plants. . cleistogamic flowers. the nature of heterostyled plants may be illustrated in the primrose, one of the best known examples of the class. if a number of primroses be gathered, it will be found that some plants yield nothing but "pin-eyed" flowers, in which the style (or organ for the transmission of the pollen to the ovule) is long, while the others yield only "thrum-eyed" flowers with short styles. thus primroses are divided into two sets or castes differing structurally from each other. my father showed that they also differ sexually, and that in fact the bond between the two castes more nearly resembles that between separate sexes than any other known relationship. thus for example a long-styled primrose, though it can be fertilised by its own pollen, is not fully fertile unless it is impregnated by the pollen of a short-styled flower. heterostyled plants are comparable to hermaphrodite animals, such as snails, which require the concourse of two individuals, although each possesses both the sexual elements. the difference is that in the case of the primrose it is perfect fertility, and not simply fertility, that depends on the mutual action of the two sets of individuals. the work on heterostyled plants has a special bearing, to which the author attached much importance, on the problem of origin of species. (see 'autobiography,' volume i.) he found that a wonderfully close parallelism exists between hybridisation and certain forms of fertilisation among heterostyled plants. so that it is hardly an exaggeration to say that the "illegitimately" reared seedlings are hybrids, although both their parents belong to identically the same species. in a letter to professor huxley, my father writes as if his researches on heterostyled plants tended to make him believe that sterility is a selected or acquired quality. but in his later publications, e.g. in the sixth edition of the 'origin,' he adheres to the belief that sterility is an incidental rather than a selected quality. the result of his work on heterostyled plants is of importance as showing that sterility is no test of specific distinctness, and that it depends on differentiation of the sexual elements which is independent of any racial difference. i imagine that it was his instinctive love of making out a difficulty which to a great extent kept him at work so patiently on the heterostyled plants. but it was the fact that general conclusions of the above character could be drawn from his results which made him think his results worthy of publication. (see 'forms of flowers,' page .) the papers which on this subject preceded and contributed to 'forms of flowers' were the following:-- "on the two forms or dimorphic condition in the species of primula, and on their remarkable sexual relations." linn. soc. journal, .) "on the existence of two forms, and on their reciprocal sexual relations, in several species of the genus linum." linn. soc. journal, . "on the sexual relations of the three forms of lythrum salicaria," ibid. . "on the character and hybrid-like nature of the offspring from the illegitimate unions of dimorphic and trimorphic plants." ibid. . "on the specific differences between primula veris, brit. fl. (var. officinalis, linn.), p. vulgaris, brit. fl. (var. acaulis, linn.) and p. elatior, jacq.; and on the hybrid nature of the common oxlip. with supplementary remarks on naturally produced hybrids in the genus verbascum." ibid. . the following letter shows that he began the work on heterostyled plants with an erroneous view as to the meaning of the facts.] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may [ ]. ... i have this morning been looking at my experimental cowslips, and i find some plants have all flowers with long stamens and short pistils, which i will call "male plants," others with short stamens and long pistils, which i will call "female plants." this i have somewhere seen noticed, i think by henslow; but i find (after looking at my two sets of plants) that the stigmas of the male and female are of slightly different shape, and certainly different degree of roughness, and what has astonished me, the pollen of the so-called female plant, though very abundant, is more transparent, and each granule is exactly only / of the size of the pollen of the so-called male plant. has this been observed? i cannot help suspecting [that] the cowslip is in fact dioecious, but it may turn out all a blunder, but anyhow i will mark with sticks the so-called male and female plants and watch their seeding. it would be a fine case of gradation between an hermaphrodite and unisexual condition. likewise a sort of case of balancement of long and short pistils and stamens. likewise perhaps throws light on oxlips... i have now examined primroses and find exactly the same difference in the size of the pollen, correlated with the same difference in the length of the style and roughness of the stigmas. charles darwin to asa gray. june [ ]. ... i have been making some little trifling observations which have interested and perplexed me much. i find with primroses and cowslips, that about an equal number of plants are thus characterised. so-called (by me) male plant. pistil much shorter than stamens; stigma rather smooth,--pollen grains large, throat of corolla short. so-called female plant. pistil much longer than stamens, stigma rougher, pollen-grains smaller,--throat of corolla long. i have marked a lot of plants, and expected to find the so-called male plant barren; but judging from the feel of the capsules, this is not the case, and i am very much surprised at the difference in the size of the pollen... if it should prove that the so-called male plants produce less seed than the so-called females, what a beautiful case of gradation from hermaphrodite to unisexual condition it will be! if they produce about equal number of seed, how perplexing it will be. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, december [ ?]. ... i have just been ordering a photograph of myself for a friend; and have ordered one for you, and for heaven's sake oblige me, and burn that now hanging up in your room.--it makes me look atrociously wicked. ... in the spring i must get you to look for long pistils and short pistils in the rarer species of primula and in some allied genera. it holds with p. sinensis. you remember all the fuss i made on this subject last spring; well, the other day at last i had time to weigh the seeds, and by jove the plants of primroses and cowslip with short pistils and large grained pollen (thus the plants which he imagined to be tending towards a male condition were more productive than the supposed females.) are rather more fertile than those with long pistils, and small-grained pollen. i find that they require the action of insects to set them, and i never will believe that these differences are without some meaning. some of my experiments lead me to suspect that the large-grained pollen suits the long pistils and the small-grained pollen suits the short pistils; but i am determined to see if i cannot make out the mystery next spring. how does your book on plants brew in your mind? have you begun it?... remember me most kindly to oliver. he must be astonished at not having a string of questions, i fear he will get out of practice! [the primula-work was finished in the autumn of , and on november th he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "i have sent my paper on dimorphism in primula to the linn. soc. i shall go up and read it whenever it comes on; i hope you may be able to attend, for i do not suppose many will care a penny for the subject." with regard to the reading of the paper (on november st), he wrote to the same friend:-- "i by no means thought that i produced a "tremendous effect" in the linn. soc., but by jove the linn. soc. produced a tremendous effect on me, for i could not get out of bed till late next evening, so that i just crawled home. i fear i must give up trying to read any paper or speak; it is a horrid bore, i can do nothing like other people." to dr. gray he wrote, (december ):-- "you may rely on it, i will send you a copy of my primula paper as soon as i can get one; but i believe it will not be printed till april st, and therefore after my orchid book. i care more for your and hooker's opinion than for that of all the rest of the world, and for lyell's on geological points. bentham and hooker thought well of my paper when read; but no one can judge of evidence by merely hearing a paper." the work on primula was the means of bringing my father in contact with the late mr. john scott, then working as a gardener in the botanic gardens at edinburgh,--an employment which he seems to have chosen in order to gratify his passion for natural history. he wrote one or two excellent botanical papers, and ultimately obtained a post in india. (while in india he made some admirable observations on expression for my father.) he died in . a few phrases may be quoted from letters to sir j.d. hooker, showing my father's estimate of scott:-- "if you know, do please tell me who is john scott of the botanical gardens of edinburgh; i have been corresponding largely with him; he is no common man." "if he had leisure he would make a wonderful observer; to my judgment i have come across no one like him." "he has interested me strangely, and i have formed a very high opinion of his intellect. i hope he will accept pecuniary assistance from me; but he has hitherto refused." (he ultimately succeeded in being allowed to pay for mr. scott's passage to india.) "i know nothing of him excepting from his letters; these show remarkable talent, astonishing perseverance, much modesty, and what i admire, determined difference from me on many points." so highly did he estimate scott's abilities that he formed a plan (which however never went beyond an early stage of discussion) of employing him to work out certain problems connected with intercrossing. the following letter refers to my father's investigations on lythrum (he was led to this, his first case of trimorphism by lecoq's 'geographie botanique,' and this must have consoled him for the trick this work played him in turning out to be so much larger than he expected. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker: "here is a good joke: i saw an extract from lecoq, 'geograph. bot.,' and ordered it and hoped that it was a good sized pamphlet, and nine thick volumes have arrived!"), a plant which reveals even a more wonderful condition of sexual complexity than that of primula. for in lythrum there are not merely two, but three castes, differing structurally and physiologically from each other:] charles darwin to asa gray. down, august [ ]. my dear gray, it is late at night, and i am going to write briefly, and of course to beg a favour. the mitchella very good, but pollen apparently equal-sized. i have just examined hottonia, grand difference in pollen. echium vulgare, a humbug, merely a case like thymus. but i am almost stark staring mad over lythrum (on another occasion he wrote (to dr. gray) with regard to lythrum: "i must hold hard, otherwise i shall spend my life over dimorphism."); if i can prove what i fully believe, it is a grand case of trimorphism, with three different pollens and three stigmas; i have castrated and fertilised above ninety flowers, trying all the eighteen distinct crosses which are possible within the limits of this one species! i cannot explain, but i feel sure you would think it a grand case. i have been writing to botanists to see if i can possibly get l. hyssopifolia, and it has just flashed on me that you might have lythrum in north america, and i have looked to your manual. for the love of heaven have a look at some of your species, and if you can get me seed, do; i want much to try species with few stamens, if they are dimorphic; nesaea verticillata i should expect to be trimorphic. seed! seed! seed! i should rather like seed of mitchella. but oh, lythrum! your utterly mad friend, c. darwin. p.s.--there is reason in my madness, for i can see that to those who already believe in change of species, these facts will modify to a certain extent the whole view of hybridity. (a letter to dr. gray (july, ) bears on this point: "a few days ago i made an observation which has surprised me more than it ought to do--it will have to be repeated several times, but i have scarcely a doubt of its accuracy. i stated in my primula paper that the long-styled form of linum grandiflorum was utterly sterile with its own pollen; i have lately been putting the pollen of the two forms on the stigma of the same flower; and it strikes me as truly wonderful, that the stigma distinguishes the pollen; and is penetrated by the tubes of the one and not by those of the other; nor are the tubes exserted. or (which is the same thing) the stigma of the one form acts on and is acted on by pollen, which produces not the least effect on the stigma of the other form. taking sexual power as the criterion of difference, the two forms of this one species may be said to be generically distinct.") [on the same subject he wrote to sir joseph hooker in august :-- "is oliver at kew? when i am established at bournemouth i am completely mad to examine any fresh flowers of any lythraceous plant, and i would write and ask him if any are in bloom." again he wrote to the same friend in october:-- "if you ask oliver, i think he will tell you i have got a real odd case in lythrum, it interests me extremely, and seems to me the strangest case of propagation recorded amongst plants or animals, viz. a necessary triple alliance between three hermaphrodites. i feel sure i can now prove the truth of the case from a multitude of crosses made this summer." in an article, 'dimorphism in the genitalia of plants' ('silliman's journal,' , volume xxxiv. page ), dr. gray pointed out that the structural difference between the two forms of primula had already been defined in the 'flora of north america,' as dioecio-dimorphism. the use of this term called forth the following remarks from my father. the letter also alludes to a review of the 'fertilisation of orchids' in the same volume of 'silliman's journal.'] charles darwin to asa gray. down, november [ ]. my dear gray, the very day after my last letter, yours of november th, and the review in 'silliman,' which i feared might have been lost, reached me. we were all very much interested by the political part of your letter; and in some odd way one never feels that information and opinions painted in a newspaper come from a living source; they seem dead, whereas all that you write is full of life. the reviews interested me profoundly; you rashly ask for my opinion, and you must consequently endure a long letter. first for dimorphism; i do not at present like the term "dioecio-dimorphism;" for i think it gives quite a false notion, that the phenomena are connected with a separation of the sexes. certainly in primula there is unequal fertility in the two forms, and i suspect this is the case with linum; and, therefore i felt bound in the primula paper to state that it might be a step towards a dioecious condition; though i believe there are no dioecious forms in primulaceae or linaceae. but the three forms in lythrum convince me that the phenomenon is in no way necessarily connected with any tendency to separation of sexes. the case seems to me in result or function to be almost identical with what old c.k. sprengel called "dichogamy," and which is so frequent in truly hermaphrodite groups; namely, the pollen and stigma of each flower being mature at different periods. if i am right, it is very advisable not to use the term "dioecious," as this at once brings notions of separation of sexes. ... i was much perplexed by oliver's remarks in the 'natural history review' on the primula case, on the lower plants having sexes more often separated than in the higher plants,--so exactly the reverse of what takes place in animals. hooker in his review of the 'orchids' repeats this remark. there seems to be much truth in what you say ("forms which are low in the scale as respects morphological completeness may be high in the scale of rank founded on specialisation of structure and function."--dr. gray, in 'silliman's journal.'), and it did not occur to me, about no improbability of specialisation in certain lines in lowly organised beings. i could hardly doubt that the hermaphrodite state is the aboriginal one. but how is it in the conjugation of confervae--is not one of the two individuals here in fact male, and the other female? i have been much puzzled by this contrast in sexual arrangements between plants and animals. can there be anything in the following consideration: by roughest calculation about one-third of the british genera of aquatic plants belong to the linnean classes of mono and dioecia; whilst of terrestrial plants (the aquatic genera being subtracted) only one-thirteenth of the genera belong to these two classes. is there any truth in this fact generally? can aquatic plants, being confined to a small area or small community of individuals, require more free crossing, and therefore have separate sexes? but to return to our point, does not alph. de candolle say that aquatic plants taken as a whole are lowly organised, compared with terrestrial; and may not oliver's remark on the separation of the sexes in lowly organised plants stand in some relation to their being frequently aquatic? or is this all rubbish? ... what a magnificent compliment you end your review with! you and hooker seem determined to turn my head with conceit and vanity (if not already turned) and make me an unbearable wretch. with most cordial thanks, my good and kind friend, farewell, c. darwin. [the following passage from a letter (july , ), to prof. hildebrand, contains a reference to the reception of the dimorphic work in france:-- "i am extremely much pleased to hear that you have been looking at the manner of fertilisation of your native orchids, and still more pleased to hear that you have been experimenting on linum. i much hope that you may publish the result of these experiments; because i was told that the most eminent french botanists of paris said that my paper on primula was the work of imagination, and that the case was so improbable they did not believe in my results."] charles darwin to asa gray. april [ ]. ... i received a little time ago a paper with a good account of your herbarium and library, and a long time previously your excellent review of scott's 'primulaceae,' and i forwarded it to him in india, as it would much please him. i was very glad to see in it a new case of dimorphism (i forget just now the name of the plant); i shall be grateful to hear of any other cases, as i still feel an interest in the subject. i should be very glad to get some seed of your dimorphic plantagos; for i cannot banish the suspicion that they must belong to a very different class like that of the common thyme. (in this prediction he was right. see 'forms of flowers,' page .) how could the wind, which is the agent of fertilisation, with plantago, fertilise "reciprocally dimorphic" flowers like primula? theory says this cannot be, and in such cases of one's own theories i follow agassiz and declare, "that nature never lies." i should even be very glad to examine the two dried forms of plantago. indeed, any dried dimorphic plants would be gratefully received... did my lythrum paper interest you? i crawl on at the rate of two hours per diem, with 'variation under domestication.' charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, november [ ]. ... you do not know how pleased i am that you have read my lythrum paper; i thought you would not have time, and i have for long years looked at you as my public, and care more for your opinion than that of all the rest of the world. i have done nothing which has interested me so much as lythrum, since making out the complemental males of cirripedes. i fear that i have dragged in too much miscellaneous matter into the paper. ... i get letters occasionally, which show me that natural selection is making great progress in germany, and some amongst the young in france. i have just received a pamphlet from germany, with the complimentary title of "darwinische arten-enstehung-humbug"! farewell, my best of old friends, c. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. september , [ ?]. ... the only point which i have made out this summer, which could possibly interest you, is that the common oxlip found everywhere, more or less commonly in england, is certainly a hybrid between the primrose and cowslip; whilst the p. elatior (jacq.), found only in the eastern counties, is a perfectly distinct and good species; hardly distinguishable from the common oxlip, except by the length of the seed-capsule relatively to the calyx. this seems to me rather a horrid fact for all systematic botanists... charles darwin to f. hildebrand. down, november , . my dear sir, i wrote my last note in such a hurry from london, that i quite forgot what i chiefly wished to say, namely to thank you for your excellent notices in the 'bot. zeitung' of my paper on the offspring of dimorphic plants. the subject is so obscure that i did not expect that any one would have noticed my paper, and i am accordingly very much pleased that you should have brought the subject before the many excellent naturalists of germany. of all the german authors (but they are not many) whose works i have read, you write by far the clearest style, but whether this is a compliment to a german writer i do not know. [the two following letters refer to the small bud-like "cleistogamic" flowers found in the violet and many other plants. they do not open and are necessarily self-fertilised:] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, may [ ]. ... what will become of my book on variation? i am involved in a multiplicity of experiments. i have been amusing myself by looking at the small flowers of viola. if oliver (shortly afterwards he wrote: "oliver, the omniscient, has sent me a paper in the 'bot. zeitung,' with most accurate description of all that i saw in viola.") has had time to study them, he will have seen the curious case (as it seems to me) which i have just made clearly out, viz. that in these flowers, the few pollen grains are never shed, or never leave the anther-cells, but emit long pollen tubes, which penetrate the stigma. to-day i got the anther with the included pollen grain (now empty) at one end, and a bundle of tubes penetrating the stigmatic tissue at the other end; i got the whole under a microscope without breaking the tubes; i wonder whether the stigma pours some fluid into the anther so as to excite the included grains. it is a rather odd case of correlation, that in the double sweet violet the small flowers are double; i.e., have a multitude of minute scales representing the petals. what queer little flowers they are. have you had time to read poor dear henslow's life? it has interested me for the man's sake, and, what i did not think possible, has even exalted his character in my estimation... [the following is an extract from the letter given in part above, and refers to dr. gray's article on the sexual differences of plants:] charles darwin to asa gray. november [ ]. ... you will think that i am in the most unpleasant, contradictory, fractious humour, when i tell you that i do not like your term of "precocious fertilisation" for your second class of dimorphism [i.e. for cleistogamic fertilisation]. if i can trust my memory, the state of the corolla, of the stigma, and the pollen-grains is different from the state of the parts in the bud; that they are in a condition of special modification. but upon my life i am ashamed of myself to differ so much from my betters on this head. the temporary theory (this view is now generally accepted.) which i have formed on this class of dimorphism, just to guide experiment, is that the perfect flowers can only be perfectly fertilised by insects, and are in this case abundantly crossed; but that the flowers are not always, especially in early spring, visited enough by insects, and therefore the little imperfect self-fertilising flowers are developed to ensure a sufficiency of seed for present generations. viola canina is sterile, when not visited by insects, but when so visited forms plenty of seed. i infer from the structure of three or four forms of balsamineae, that these require insects; at least there is almost as plain adaptation to insects as in the orchids. i have oxalis acetosella ready in pots for experiment next spring; and i fear this will upset my little theory... campanula carpathica, as i found this summer, is absolutely sterile if insects are excluded. specularia speculum is fairly fertile when enclosed; and this seemed to me to be partially effected by the frequent closing of the flower; the inward angular folds of the corolla corresponding with the clefts of the open stigma, and in this action pushing pollen from the outside of the stigma on to its surface. now can you tell me, does s. perfoliata close its flower like s. speculum, with angular inward folds? if so, i am smashed without some fearful "wriggling." are the imperfect flowers of your specularia the early or the later ones? very early or very late? it is rather pretty to see the importance of the closing of flowers of s. speculum. ['forms of flowers' was published in july; in june, , he wrote to professor carus with regard to the translation:-- "my new book is not a long one, viz. pages, chiefly of the larger type, with fifteen simple woodcuts. all the proofs are corrected except the index, so that it will soon be published. "... i do not suppose that i shall publish any more books, though perhaps a few more papers. i cannot endure being idle, but heaven knows whether i am capable of any more good work." the review alluded to in the next letter is at page of the volume of 'nature' for :] charles darwin to w. thiselton dyer. down, april , . my dear dyer, i have just read in 'nature' the review of 'forms of flowers,' and i am sure that it is by you. i wish with all my heart that it deserved one quarter of the praises which you give it. some of your remarks have interested me greatly... hearty thanks for your generous and most kind sympathy, which does a man real good, when he is as dog-tired as i am at this minute with working all day, so good-bye. c. darwin. chapter .xiii. -- climbing and insectivorous plants. [my father mentions in his 'autobiography' (volume i.) that he was led to take up the subject of climbing plants by reading dr. gray's paper, "note on the coiling of the tendrils of plants." ('proc. amer. acad. of arts and sciences,' .) this essay seems to have been read in , but i am only able to guess at the date of the letter in which he asks for a reference to it, so that the precise date of his beginning this work cannot be determined. in june he was certainly at work, and wrote to sir j.d. hooker for information as to previous publications on the subject, being then in ignorance of palm's and h. v. mohl's works on climbing plants, both of which were published in .] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down [june] [ ]. my dear hooker, i have been observing pretty carefully a little fact which has surprised me; and i want to know from you and oliver whether it seems new or odd to you, so just tell me whenever you write; it is a very trifling fact, so do not answer on purpose. i have got a plant of echinocystis lobata to observe the irritability of the tendrils described by asa gray, and which of course, is plain enough. having the plant in my study, i have been surprised to find that the uppermost part of each branch (i.e. the stem between the two uppermost leaves excluding the growing tip) is constantly and slowly twisting round making a circle in from one-half to two hours; it will sometimes go round two or three times, and then at the same rate untwists and twists in opposite directions. it generally rests half an hour before it retrogrades. the stem does not become permanently twisted. the stem beneath the twisting portion does not move in the least, though not tied. the movement goes on all day and all early night. it has no relation to light for the plant stands in my window and twists from the light just as quickly as towards it. this may be a common phenomenon for what i know, but it confounded me quite, when i began to observe the irritability of the tendrils. i do not say it is the final cause, but the result is pretty, for the plant every one and a half or two hours sweeps a circle (according to the length of the bending shoot and the length of the tendril) of from one foot to twenty inches in diameter, and immediately that the tendril touches any object its sensitiveness causes it immediately to seize it; a clever gardener, my neighbour, who saw the plant on my table last night, said: "i believe, sir, the tendrils can see, for wherever i put a plant it finds out any stick near enough." i believe the above is the explanation, viz. that it sweeps slowly round and round. the tendrils have some sense, for they do not grasp each other when young. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, july [ ]. my dear hooker, i am getting very much amused by my tendrils, it is just the sort of niggling work which suits me, and takes up no time and rather rests me whilst writing. so will you just think whether you know any plant, which you could give or lend me, or i could buy, with tendrils, remarkable in any way for development, for odd or peculiar structure, or even for an odd place in natural arrangement. i have seen or can see cucurbitaceae, passion-flower, virginian-creeper, cissus discolor, common-pea and everlasting-pea. it is really curious the diversification of irritability (i do not mean the spontaneous movement, about which i wrote before and correctly, as further observation shows): for instance, i find a slight pinch between the thumb and finger at the end of the tendril of the cucurbitaceae causes prompt movement, but a pinch excites no movement in cissus. the cause is that one side alone (the concave) is irritable in the former; whereas both sides are irritable in cissus, so if you excite at the same time both opposite sides there is no movement, but by touching with a pencil the two branches of the tendril, in any part whatever, you cause movement towards that point; so that i can mould, by a mere touch, the two branches into any shape i like... charles darwin to asa gray. down, august [ ]. my present hobby-horse i owe to you, viz. the tendrils: their irritability is beautiful, as beautiful in all its modifications as anything in orchids. about the spontaneous movement (independent of touch) of the tendrils and upper internodes, i am rather taken aback by your saying, "is it not wel-known?" i can find nothing in any book which i have... the spontaneous movement of the tendrils is independent of the movement of the upper internodes, but both work harmoniously together in sweeping a circle for the tendrils to grasp a stick. so with all climbing plants (without tendrils) as yet examined, the upper internodes go on night and day sweeping a circle in one fixed direction. it is surprising to watch the apocyneae with shoots inches long (beyond the supporting stick), steadily searching for something to climb up. when the shoot meets a stick, the motion at that point is arrested, but in the upper part is continued; so that the climbing of all plants yet examined is the simple result of the spontaneous circulatory movement of the upper internodes. pray tell me whether anything has been published on this subject? i hate publishing what is old; but i shall hardly regret my work if it is old, as it has much amused me... charles darwin to asa gray. may , . ... an irish nobleman on his death-bed declared that he could conscientiously say that he had never throughout life denied himself any pleasure; and i can conscientiously say that i have never scrupled to trouble you; so here goes.--have you travelled south, and can you tell me whether the trees, which bignonia capreolata climbs, are covered with moss or filamentous lichen or tillandsia? (he subsequently learned from dr. gray that polypodium incanum abounds on the trees in the districts where this species of bignonia grows. see 'climbing plants,' page .) i ask because its tendrils abhor a simple stick, do not much relish rough bark, but delight in wool or moss. they adhere in a curious manner by making little disks, like the ampelopsis... by the way, i will enclose some specimens, and if you think it worth while, you can put them under the simple microscope. it is remarkable how specially adapted some tendrils are; those of eccremocarpus scaber do not like a stick, will have nothing to say to wool; but give them a bundle of culms of grass, or a bundle of bristles and they seize them well. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, june [ ]. ... i have now read two german books, and all i believe that has been written on climbers, and it has stirred me up to find that i have a good deal of new matter. it is strange, but i really think no one has explained simple twining plants. these books have stirred me up, and made me wish for plants specified in them. i shall be very glad of those you mention. i have written to veitch for young nepenthes and vanilla (which i believe will turn out a grand case, though a root creeper), if i cannot buy young vanilla i will ask you. i have ordered a leaf-climbing fern, lygodium. all this work about climbers would hurt my conscience, did i think i could do harder work. (he was much out of health at this time.) [he continued his observations on climbing plants during the prolonged illness from which he suffered in the autumn of , and in the following spring. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker, apparently in march :-- "for several days i have been decidedly better, and what i lay much stress on (whatever doctors say), my brain feels far stronger, and i have lost many dreadful sensations. the hot-house is such an amusement to me, and my amusement i owe to you, as my delight is to look at the many odd leaves and plants from kew... the only approach to work which i can do is to look at tendrils and climbers, this does not distress my weakened brain. ask oliver to look over the enclosed queries (and do you look) and amuse a broken-down brother naturalist by answering any which he can. if you ever lounge through your houses, remember me and climbing plants." on october , , he wrote to dr. gray:-- "i have not been able to resist doing a little more at your godchild, my climbing paper, or rather in size little book, which by jove i will have copied out, else i shall never stop. this has been new sort of work for me, and i have been pleased to find what a capital guide for observations a full conviction of the change of species is." on january , , he wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "it is working hours, but i am trying to take a day's holiday, for i finished and despatched yesterday my climbing paper. for the last ten days i have done nothing but correct refractory sentences, and i loathe the whole subject." a letter to dr. gray, april , , has a word or two on the subject:-- "i have begun correcting proofs of my paper on 'climbing plants.' i suppose i shall be able to send you a copy in four or five weeks. i think it contains a good deal new and some curious points, but it is so fearfully long, that no one will ever read it. if, however, you do not skim through it, you will be an unnatural parent, for it is your child." dr. gray not only read it but approved of it, to my father's great satisfaction, as the following extracts show:-- "i was much pleased to get your letter of july th. now that i can do nothing, i maunder over old subjects, and your approbation of my climbing paper gives me very great satisfaction. i made my observations when i could do nothing else and much enjoyed it, but always doubted whether they were worth publishing. i demur to its not being necessary to explain in detail about the spires in caught tendrils running in opposite directions; for the fact for a long time confounded me, and i have found it difficult enough to explain the cause to two or three persons." (august , .) "i received yesterday your article (in the september number of 'silliman's journal,' concluded in the january number, .) on climbers, and it has pleased me in an extraordinary and even silly manner. you pay me a superb compliment, and as i have just said to my wife, i think my friends must perceive that i like praise, they give me such hearty doses. i always admire your skill in reviews or abstracts, and you have done this article excellently and given the whole essence of my paper... i have had a letter from a good zoologist in s. brazil, f. muller, who has been stirred up to observe climbers and gives me some curious cases of branch-climbers, in which branches are converted into tendrils, and then continue to grow and throw out leaves and new branches, and then lose their tendril character." (october .) the paper on climbing plants was republished in , as a separate book. the author had been unable to give his customary amount of care to the style of the original essay, owing to the fact that it was written during a period of continued ill-health, and it was now found to require a great deal of alteration. he wrote to sir j.d. hooker (march , ): "it is lucky for authors in general that they do not require such dreadful work in merely licking what they write into shape." and to mr. murray in september he wrote: "the corrections are heavy in 'climbing plants,' and yet i deliberately went over the ms. and old sheets three times." the book was published in september , an edition of copies was struck off; the edition sold fairly well, and additional copies were printed in june of the following year.] insectivorous plants. [in the summer of he was staying at the house of his sister-in-law, miss wedgwood, in ashdown forest, whence he wrote (july , ), to sir joseph hooker;-- "latterly i have done nothing here; but at first i amused myself with a few observations on the insect-catching power of drosera; and i must consult you some time whether my 'twaddle' is worth communicating to the linnean society." in august he wrote to the same friend:-- "i will gratefully send my notes on drosera when copied by my copier: the subject amused me when i had nothing to do." he has described in the 'autobiography' (volume i.), the general nature of these early experiments. he noticed insects sticking to the leaves, and finding that flies, etc., placed on the adhesive glands were held fast and embraced, he suspected that the leaves were adapted to supply nitrogenous food to the plant. he therefore tried the effect on the leaves of various nitrogenous fluids--with results which, as far as they went, verified his surmise. in september, , he wrote to dr. gray:-- "i have been infinitely amused by working at drosera: the movements are really curious; and the manner in which the leaves detect certain nitrogenous compounds is marvellous. you will laugh; but it is, at present, my full belief (after endless experiments) that they detect (and move in consequence of) the / part of a single grain of nitrate of ammonia; but the muriate and sulphate of ammonia bother their chemical skill, and they cannot make anything of the nitrogen in these salts! i began this work on drosera in relation to gradation as throwing light on dionaea." later in the autumn he was again obliged to leave home for eastbourne, where he continued his work on drosera. the work was so new to him that he found himself in difficulties in the preparation of solutions, and became puzzled over fluid and solid ounces, etc. etc. to a friend, the late mr. e. cresy, who came to his help in the matter of weights and measures, he wrote giving an account of the experiments. the extract (november , ) which follows illustrates the almost superstitious precautions he often applied to his researches:-- "generally i have scrutinised every gland and hair on the leaf before experimenting; but it occurred to me that i might in some way affect the leaf; though this is almost impossible, as i scrutinised with equal care those that i put into distilled water (the same water being used for dissolving the carbonate of ammonia). i then cut off four leaves (not touching them with my fingers), and put them in plain water, and four other leaves into the weak solution, and after leaving them for an hour and a half, i examined every hair on all eight leaves; no change on the four in water; every gland and hair affected in those in ammonia. "i had measured the quantity of weak solution, and i counted the glands which had absorbed the ammonia, and were plainly affected; the result convinced me that each gland could not have absorbed more than / or / of a grain. i have tried numbers of other experiments all pointing to the same result. some experiments lead me to believe that very sensitive leaves are acted on by much smaller doses. reflect how little ammonia a plant can get growing on poor soil--yet it is nourished. the really surprising part seems to me that the effect should be visible, and not under very high power; for after trying a high power, i thought it would be safer not to consider any effect which was not plainly visible under a two-thirds object glass and middle eye-piece. the effect which the carbonate of ammonia produces is the segregation of the homogeneous fluid in the cells into a cloud of granules and colourless fluid; and subsequently the granules coalesce into larger masses, and for hours have the oddest movements--coalescing, dividing, coalescing ad infinitum. i do not know whether you will care for these ill-written details; but, as you asked, i am sure i am bound to comply, after all the very kind and great trouble which you have taken." on his return home he wrote to sir j.d. hooker (november , ):-- "i have been working like a madman at drosera. here is a fact for you which is certain as you stand where you are, though you won't believe it, that a bit of hair / of one grain in weight placed on gland, will cause one of the gland-bearing hairs of drosera to curve inwards, and will alter the condition of the contents of every cell in the foot-stalk of the gland." and a few days later to lyell:-- "i will and must finish my drosera ms., which will take me a week, for, at the present moment, i care more about drosera than the origin of all the species in the world. but i will not publish on drosera till next year, for i am frightened and astounded at my results. i declare it is a certain fact, that one organ is so sensitive to touch, that a weight seventy-eight times less than that, viz., / of a grain, which will move the best chemical balance, suffices to cause a conspicuous movement. is it not curious that a plant should be far more sensitive to the touch than any nerve in the human body? yet i am perfectly sure that this is true. when i am on my hobby-horse, i never can resist telling my friends how well my hobby goes, so you must forgive the rider." the work was continued, as a holiday task, at bournemouth, where he stayed during the autumn of . the discussion in the following letter on "nervous matter" in drosera is of interest in relation to recent researches on the continuity of protoplasm from cell to cell:] charles darwin to j.d. hooker. cliff cottage, bournemouth. september [ ]. my dear hooker, do not read this till you have leisure. if that blessed moment ever comes, i should be very glad to have your opinion on the subject of this letter. i am led to the opinion that drosera must have diffused matter in organic connection, closely analogous to the nervous matter of animals. when the glands of one of the papillae or tentacles, in its natural position is supplied with nitrogenised fluid and certain other stimulants, or when loaded with an extremely slight weight, or when struck several times with a needle, the pedicel bends near its base in under one minute. these varied stimulants are conveyed down the pedicel by some means; it cannot be vibration, for drops of fluid put on quite quietly cause the movement; it cannot be absorption of the fluid from cell to cell, for i can see the rate of absorption, which though quick, is far slower, and in dionaea the transmission is instantaneous; analogy from animals would point to transmission through nervous matter. reflecting on the rapid power of absorption in the glands, the extreme sensibility of the whole organ, and the conspicuous movement caused by varied stimulants, i have tried a number of substances which are not caustic or corrosive,... but most of which are known to have a remarkable action on the nervous matter of animals. you will see the results in the enclosed paper. as the nervous matter of different animals are differently acted on by the same poisons, one would not expect the same action on plants and animals; only if plants have diffused nervous matter, some degree of analogous action. and this is partially the case. considering these experiments, together with the previously made remarks on the functions of the parts, i cannot avoid the conclusion, that drosera possesses matter at least in some degree analogous in constitution and function to nervous matter. now do tell me what you think, as far as you can judge from my abstract; of course many more experiments would have to be tried; but in former years i tried on the whole leaf, instead of on separate glands, a number of innocuous (this line of investigation made him wish for information on the action of poisons on plants; as in many other cases he applied to professor oliver, and in reference to the result wrote to hooker: "pray thank oliver heartily for his heap of references on poisons.") substances, such as sugar, gum, starch, etc., and they produced no effect. your opinion will aid me in deciding some future year in going on with this subject. i should not have thought it worth attempting, but i had nothing on earth to do. my dear hooker, yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. p.s.--we return home on monday th. thank heaven! [a long break now ensued in his work on insectivorous plants, and it was not till that the subject seriously occupied him again. a passage in a letter to dr. asa gray, written in or , shows, however, that the question was not altogether absent from his mind in the interim:-- "depend on it you are unjust on the merits of my beloved drosera; it is a wonderful plant, or rather a most sagacious animal. i will stick up for drosera to the day of my death. heaven knows whether i shall ever publish my pile of experiments on it." he notes in his diary that the last proof of the 'expression of the emotions' was finished on august , , and that he began to work on drosera on the following day.] charles darwin to asa gray. [sevenoaks], october [ ]. ... i have worked pretty hard for four or five weeks on drosera, and then broke down; so that we took a house near sevenoaks for three weeks (where i now am) to get complete rest. i have very little power of working now, and must put off the rest of the work on drosera till next spring, as my plants are dying. it is an endless subject, and i must cut it short, and for this reason shall not do much on dionaea. the point which has interested me most is tracing the nerves! which follow the vascular bundles. by a prick with a sharp lancet at a certain point, i can paralyse one-half the leaf, so that a stimulus to the other half causes no movement. it is just like dividing the spinal marrow of a frog:--no stimulus can be sent from the brain or anterior part of the spine to the hind legs; but if these latter are stimulated, they move by reflex action. i find my old results about the astonishing sensitiveness of the nervous system (!?)of drosera to various stimulants fully confirmed and extended... [his work on digestion in drosera and other points in the physiology of the plant soon led him into regions where his knowledge was defective, and here the advice and assistance which he received from dr. burdon sanderson was of much value:] charles darwin to j. burdon sanderson. down, july , . my dear dr. sanderson, i should like to tell you a little about my recent work with drosera, to show that i have profited by your suggestions, and to ask a question or two. . it is really beautiful how quickly and well drosera and dionaea dissolve little cubes of albumen and gelatine. i kept the same sized cubes on wet moss for comparison. when you were here i forgot that i had tried gelatine, but albumen is far better for watching its dissolution and absorption. frankland has told me how to test in a rough way for pepsin; and in the autumn he will discover what acid the digestive juice contains. . a decoction of cabbage-leaves and green peas causes as much inflection as an infusion of raw meat; a decoction of grass is less powerful. though i hear that the chemists try to precipitate all albumen from the extract of belladonna, i think they must fail, as the extract causes inflection, whereas a new lot of atropine, as well as the valerianate [of atropine], produce no effect. . i have been trying a good many experiments with heated water... should you not call the following case one of heat rigor? two leaves were heated to deg, and had every tentacle closely inflected; one was taken out and placed in cold water, and it re-expanded; the other was heated to deg, and had not the least power of re-expansion. is not this latter case heat rigor? if you can inform me, i should very much like to hear at what temperature cold-blooded and invertebrate animals are killed. . i must tell you my final result, of which i am sure, [as to] the sensitiveness of drosera. i made a solution of one part of phosphate of ammonia by weight to , of water; of this solution i gave so much that a leaf got / of a grain of the phosphate. i then counted the glands, and each could have got only / of a grain; this being absorbed by the glands, sufficed to cause the tentacles bearing these glands to bend through an angle of deg. such sensitiveness requires hot weather, and carefully selected young yet mature leaves. it strikes me as a wonderful fact. i must add that i took every precaution, by trying numerous leaves at the same time in the solution and in the same water which was used for making the solution. . if you can persuade your friend to try the effects of carbonate of ammonia on the aggregation of the white blood corpuscles, i should very much like to hear the result. i hope this letter will not have wearied you. believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. charles darwin to w. thiselton dyer. down, [december ?]. my dear mr. dyer, i fear that you will think me a great bore, but i cannot resist telling you that i have just found out that the leaves of pinguicula possess a beautifully adapted power of movement. last night i put on a row of little flies near one edge of two youngish leaves; and after hours these edges are beautifully folded over so as to clasp the flies, thus bringing the glands into contact with the upper surfaces of the flies, and they are now secreting copiously above and below the flies and no doubt absorbing. the acid secretion has run down the channelled edge and has collected in the spoon-shaped extremity, where no doubt the glands are absorbing the delicious soup. the leaf on one side looks just like the helix of a human ear, if you were to stuff flies within the fold. yours most sincerely, ch. darwin. charles darwin to asa gray. down, june [ ]. ... i am now hard at work getting my book on drosera & co. ready for the printers, but it will take some time, for i am always finding out new points to observe. i think you will be interested by my observations on the digestive process in drosera; the secretion contains an acid of the acetic series, and some ferment closely analogous to, but not identical with, pepsin; for i have been making a long series of comparative trials. no human being will believe what i shall publish about the smallness of the doses of phosphate of ammonia which act. ... i began reading the madagascar squib (a description of a carnivorous plant supposed to subsist on human beings.) quite gravely, and when i found it stated that felis and bos inhabited madagascar, i thought it was a false story, and did not perceive it was a hoax till i came to the woman... charles darwin to f.c. donders. (professor donders, the well-known physiologist of utrecht.) down, july , . my dear professor donders, my son george writes to me that he has seen you, and that you have been very kind to him, for which i return to you my cordial thanks. he tells me on your authority, of a fact which interests me in the highest degree, and which i much wish to be allowed to quote. it relates to the action of one millionth of a grain of atropine on the eye. now will you be so kind, whenever you can find a little leisure, to tell me whether you yourself have observed this fact, or believe it on good authority. i also wish to know what proportion by weight the atropine bore to the water solution, and how much of the solution was applied to the eye. the reason why i am so anxious on this head is that it gives some support to certain facts repeatedly observed by me with respect to the action of phosphate of ammonia on drosera. the / of a grain absorbed by a gland clearly makes the tentacle which bears this gland become inflected; and i am fully convinced that / of a grain of the crystallised salt (i.e. containing about one-third of its weight of water of crystallisation) does the same. now i am quite unhappy at the thought of having to publish such a statement. it will be of great value to me to be able to give any analogous facts in support. the case of drosera is all the more interesting as the absorption of the salt or any other stimulant applied to the gland causes it to transmit a motor influence to the base of the tentacle which bears the gland. pray forgive me for troubling you, and do not trouble yourself to answer this until your health is fully re-established. pray believe me, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. [during the summer of he was at work on the genus utricularia, and he wrote (july th) to sir j.d. hooker giving some account of the progress of his work:-- "i am rather glad you have not been able to send utricularia, for the common species has driven f. and me almost mad. the structure is most complex. the bladders catch a multitude of entomostraca, and larvae of insects. the mechanism for capture is excellent. but there is much that we cannot understand. from what i have seen to-day, i strongly suspect that it is necrophagous, i.e. that it cannot digest, but absorbs decaying matter." he was indebted to lady dorothy nevill for specimens of the curious utricularia montana, which is not aquatic like the european species, but grows among the moss and debris on the branches of trees. to this species the following letter refers:] charles darwin to lady dorothy nevill. down september [ ]. dear lady dorothy nevill, i am so much obliged to you. i was so convinced that the bladders were with the leaves that i never thought of removing the moss, and this was very stupid of me. the great solid bladder-like swellings almost on the surface are wonderful objects, but are not the true bladders. these i found on the roots near the surface, and down to a depth of two inches in the sand. they are as transparent as glass, from / to / of an inch in size, and hollow. they have all the important points of structure of the bladders of the floating english species, and i felt confident i should find captured prey. and so i have to my delight in two bladders, with clear proof that they had absorbed food from the decaying mass. for utricularia is a carrion-feeder, and not strictly carnivorous like drosera. the great solid bladder-like bodies, i believe, are reservoirs of water like a camel's stomach. as soon as i have made a few more observations, i mean to be so cruel as to give your plant no water, and observe whether the great bladders shrink and contain air instead of water; i shall then also wash all earth from all roots, and see whether there are true bladders for capturing subterranean insects down to the very bottom of the pot. now shall you think me very greedy, if i say that supposing the species is not very precious, and you have several, will you give me one more plant, and if so, please to send it to "orpington station, s.e.r., to be forwarded by foot messenger." i have hardly ever enjoyed a day more in my life than i have this day's work; and this i owe to your ladyship's great kindness. the seeds are very curious monsters; i fancy of some plant allied to medicago, but i will show them to dr. hooker. your ladyship's very gratefully, ch. darwin. charles darwin to j.d. hooker. down, september , . my dear h., your magnificent present of aldrovanda has arrived quite safe. i have enjoyed greatly a good look at the shut leaves, one of which i cut open. it is an aquatic dionaea, which has acquired some structures identical with those of utricularia! if the leaves open and i can transfer them open under the microscope, i will try some experiments, for mortal man cannot resist the temptation. if i cannot transfer, i will do nothing, for otherwise it would require hundreds of leaves. you are a good man to give me such pleasure. yours affectionately, c. darwin. [the manuscript of 'insectivorous plants' was finished in march . he seems to have been more than usually oppressed by the writing of this book, thus he wrote to sir j.d. hooker in february:-- "you ask about my book, and all that i can say is that i am ready to commit suicide; i thought it was decently written, but find so much wants rewriting, that it will not be ready to go to printers for two months, and will then make a confoundedly big book. murray will say that it is no use publishing in the middle of summer, so i do not know what will be the upshot; but i begin to think that every one who publishes a book is a fool." the book was published on july nd, , and copies were sold out of the edition of .] chapter .xiv. -- the 'power of movement in plants.' . [the few sentences in the autobiographical chapter give with sufficient clearness the connection between the 'power of movement,' and one of the author's earlier books, that on 'climbing plants.' the central idea of the book is that the movements of plants in relation to light, gravitation, etc., are modifications of a spontaneous tendency to revolve or circumnutate, which is widely inherent in the growing parts of plants. this conception has not been generally adopted, and has not taken a place among the canons of orthodox physiology. the book has been treated by professor sachs with a few words of professorial contempt; and by professor wiesner it has been honoured by careful and generously expressed criticism. mr. thiselton dyer ('charles darwin' ('nature' series), page .) has well said: "whether this masterly conception of the unity of what has hitherto seemed a chaos of unrelated phenomena will be sustained, time alone will show. but no one can doubt the importance of what mr. darwin has done, in showing that for the future the phenomena of plant movement can and indeed must be studied from a single point of view." the work was begun in the summer of , after the publication of 'different forms of flowers,' and by the autumn his enthusiasm for the subject was thoroughly established, and he wrote to mr. dyer: "i am all on fire at the work." at this time he was studying the movements of cotyledons, in which the sleep of plants is to be observed in its simplest form; in the following spring he was trying to discover what useful purpose these sleep-movements could serve, and wrote to sir joseph hooker (march th, ):-- "i think we have proved that the sleep of plants is to lessen the injury to the leaves from radiation. this has interested me much, and has cost us great labour, as it has been a problem since the time of linnaeus. but we have killed or badly injured a multitude of plants: n.b.--oxalis carnosa was most valuable, but last night was killed." his letters of this period do not give any connected account of the progress of the work. the two following are given as being characteristic of the author:] charles darwin to w. thiselton dyer. down, june , . my dear dyer, i remember saying that i should die a disgraced man if i did not observe a seedling cactus and cycas, and you have saved me from this horrible fate, as they move splendidly and normally. but i have two questions to ask: the cycas observed was a huge seed in a broad and very shallow pot with cocoa-nut fibre as i suppose. it was named only cycas. was it cycas pectinata? i suppose that i cannot be wrong in believing that what first appears above ground is a true leaf, for i can see no stem or axis. lastly, you may remember that i said that we could not raise opuntia nigricans; now i must confess to a piece of stupidity; one did come up, but my gardener and self stared at it, and concluded that it could not be a seedling opuntia, but now that i have seen one of o. basilaris, i am sure it was; i observed it only casually, and saw movements, which makes me wish to observe carefully another. if you have any fruit, will mr. lynch (mr. r.i. lynch, now curator of the botanic garden at cambridge was at this time in the royal gardens, kew.) be so kind as to send one more? i am working away like a slave at radicles [roots] and at movements of true leaves, for i have pretty well done with cotyledons... that was an excellent letter about the gardens (this refers to an attempt to induce the government to open the royal gardens at kew in the morning.): i had hoped that the agitation was over. politicians are a poor truckling lot, for [they] must see the wretched effects of keeping the gardens open all day long. your ever troublesome friend, ch. darwin. charles darwin to w. thiselton dyer. bryanston st., portman square, november [ ]. my dear dyer, i must thank you for all the wonderful trouble which you have taken about the seeds of impatiens, and on scores of other occasions. it in truth makes me feel ashamed of myself, and i cannot help thinking: "oh lord, when he sees our book he will cry out, is this all for which i have helped so much!" in seriousness, i hope that we have made out some points, but i fear that we have done very little for the labour which we have expended on our work. we are here for a week for a little rest, which i needed. if i remember right, november th, is the anniversary at the royal, and i fear sir joseph must be almost at the last gasp. i shall be glad when he is no longer president. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. [in the spring of the following year, . when he was engaged in putting his results together, he wrote somewhat despondingly to mr. dyer: "i am overwhelmed with my notes, and almost too old to undertake the job which i have in hand--i.e. movements of all kinds. yet it is worse to be idle." later on in the year, when the work was approaching completion, he wrote to prof. carus (july , ), with respect to a translation:-- "together with my son francis, i am preparing a rather large volume on the general movements of plants, and i think that we have made out a good many new points and views. "i fear that our views will meet a good deal of opposition in germany; but we have been working very hard for some years at the subject. "i shall be much pleased if you think the book worth translating, and proof-sheets shall be sent you, whenever they are ready." in the autumn he was hard at work on the manuscript, and wrote to dr. gray (october , ):-- "i have written a rather big book--more is the pity--on the movements of plants, and i am now just beginning to go over the ms. for the second time, which is a horrid bore." only the concluding part of the next letter refers to the 'power of movements':] charles darwin to a. de candolle. may , . my dear sir, i am particularly obliged to you for having so kindly send me your 'phytographie' (a book on the methods of botanical research, more especially of systematic work.); for if i had merely seen it advertised, i should not have supposed that it could have concerned me. as it is, i have read with very great interest about a quarter, but will not delay longer thanking you. all that you say seems to me very clear and convincing, and as in all your writings i find a large number of philosophical remarks new to me, and no doubt shall find many more. they have recalled many a puzzle through which i passed when monographing the cirripedia; and your book in those days would have been quite invaluable to me. it has pleased me to find that i have always followed your plan of making notes on separate pieces of paper; i keep several scores of large portfolios, arranged on very thin shelves about two inches apart, fastened to the walls of my study, and each shelf has its proper name or title; and i can thus put at once every memorandum into its proper place. your book will, i am sure, be very useful to many young students, and i shall beg my son francis (who intends to devote himself to the physiology of plants) to read it carefully. as for myself i am taking a fortnight's rest, after sending a pile of ms. to the printers, and it was a piece of good fortune that your book arrived as i was getting into my carriage, for i wanted something to read whilst away from home. my ms. relates to the movements of plants, and i think that i have succeeded in showing that all the more important great classes of movements are due to the modification of a kind of movement common to all parts of all plants from their earliest youth. pray give my kind remembrances to your son, and with my highest respect and best thanks, believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. p.s.--it always pleases me to exalt plants in the organic scale, and if you will take the trouble to read my last chapter when my book (which will be sadly too big) is published and sent to you, i hope and think that you also will admire some of the beautiful adaptations by which seedling plants are enabled to perform their proper functions. [the book was published on november , , and copies were disposed of at mr. murray's sale. with regard to it he wrote to sir j.d. hooker (november ):-- "your note has pleased me much--for i did not expect that you would have had time to read any of it. read the last chapter, and you will know the whole result, but without the evidence. the case, however, of radicles bending after exposure for an hour to geotropism, with their tips (or brains) cut off is, i think, worth your reading (bottom of page ); it astounded me. the next most remarkable fact, as it appeared to me (page ), is the discrimination of the tip of the radicle between a slightly harder and softer object affixed on opposite sides of tip. but i will bother you no more about my book. the sensitiveness of seedlings to light is marvellous." to another friend, mr. thiselton dyer, he wrote (november , ):-- "very many thanks for your most kind note, but you think too highly of our work, not but what this is very pleasant... many of the germans are very contemptuous about making out the use of organs; but they may sneer the souls out of their bodies, and i for one shall think it the most interesting part of natural history. indeed you are greatly mistaken if you doubt for one moment on the very great value of your constant and most kind assistance to us." the book was widely reviewed, and excited much interest among the general public. the following letter refers to a leading article in the "times", november , :] charles darwin to mrs. haliburton. (mrs. haliburton was a daughter of my father's early friend, the late mr. owen, of woodhouse.) down, november , . my dear sarah, you see how audaciously i begin; but i have always loved and shall ever love this name. your letter has done more than please me, for its kindness has touched my heart. i often think of old days and of the delight of my visits to woodhouse, and of the deep debt of gratitude i owe to your father. it was very good of you to write. i had quite forgotten my old ambition about the shrewsbury newspaper (mrs. haliburton had reminded him of his saying as a boy that if eddowes' newspaper ever alluded to him as "our deserving fellow-townsman," his ambition would be amply gratified.); but i remember the pride which i felt when i saw in a book about beetles the impressive words "captured by c. darwin." captured sounded so grand compared with caught. this seemed to me glory enough for any man! i do not know in the least what made the "times" glorify me (the following is the opening sentence of the leading article:--"of all our living men of science none have laboured longer and to more splendid purpose than mr. darwin."), for it has sometimes pitched into me ferociously. i should very much like to see you again, but you would find a visit here very dull, for we feel very old and have no amusement, and lead a solitary life. but we intend in a few weeks to spend a few days in london, and then if you have anything else to do in london, you would perhaps come and lunch with us. (my father had the pleasure of seeing mrs. haliburton at his brother's house in queen anne street.) believe me, my dear sarah, yours gratefully and affectionately, charles darwin. [the following letter was called forth by the publication of a volume devoted to the criticism of the 'power of movement in plants' by an accomplished botanist, dr. julius wiesner, professor of botany in the university of vienna:] charles darwin to julius wiesner. down, october th, . my dear sir, i have now finished your book ('das bewegungsvermogen der pflanzen.' vienna, .), and have understood the whole except a very few passages. in the first place, let me thank you cordially for the manner in which you have everywhere treated me. you have shown how a man may differ from another in the most decided manner, and yet express his difference with the most perfect courtesy. not a few english and german naturalists might learn a useful lesson from your example; for the coarse language often used by scientific men towards each other does no good, and only degrades science. i have been profoundly interested by your book, and some of your experiments are so beautiful, that i actually felt pleasure while being vivisected. it would take up too much space to discuss all the important topics in your book. i fear that you have quite upset the interpretation which i have given of the effects of cutting off the tips of horizontally extended roots, and of those laterally exposed to moisture; but i cannot persuade myself that the horizontal position of lateral branches and roots is due simply to their lessened power of growth. nor when i think of my experiments with the cotyledons of phalaris, can i give up the belief of the transmission of some stimulus due to light from the upper to the lower part. at page you have misunderstood my meaning, when you say that i believe that the effects from light are transmitted to a part which is not itself heliotropic. i never considered whether or not the short part beneath the ground was heliotropic; but i believe that with young seedlings the part which bends near, but above the ground is heliotropic, and i believe so from this part bending only moderately when the light is oblique, and bending rectangularly when the light is horizontal. nevertheless the bending of this lower part, as i conclude from my experiments with opaque caps, is influenced by the action of light on the upper part. my opinion, however, on the above and many other points, signifies very little, for i have no doubt that your book will convince most botanists that i am wrong in all the points on which we differ. independently of the question of transmission, my mind is so full of facts leading me to believe that light, gravity, etc., act not in a direct manner on growth, but as stimuli, that i am quite unable to modify my judgment on this head. i could not understand the passage at page , until i consulted my son george, who is a mathematician. he supposes that your objection is founded on the diffused light from the lamp illuminating both sides of the object, and not being reduced, with increasing distance in the same ratio as the direct light; but he doubts whether this necessary correction will account for the very little difference in the heliotropic curvature of the plants in the successive pots. with respect to the sensitiveness of the tips of roots to contact, i cannot admit your view until it is proved that i am in error about bits of card attached by liquid gum causing movement; whereas no movement was caused if the card remained separated from the tip by a layer of the liquid gum. the fact also of thicker and thinner bits of card attached on opposite sides of the same root by shellac, causing movement in one direction, has to be explained. you often speak of the tip having been injured; but externally there was no sign of injury: and when the tip was plainly injured, the extreme part became curved towards the injured side. i can no more believe that the tip was injured by the bits of card, at least when attached by gum-water, than that the glands of drosera are injured by a particle of thread or hair placed on it, or that the human tongue [is so] when it feels any such object. about the most important subject in my book, namely circumnutation, i can only say that i feel utterly bewildered at the difference in our conclusions; but i could not fully understand some parts which my son francis will be able to translate to me when he returns home. the greater part of your book is beautifully clear. finally, i wish that i had enough strength and spirit to commence a fresh set of experiments, and publish the results, with a full recantation of my errors when convinced of them; but i am too old for such an undertaking, nor do i suppose that i shall be able to do much, or any more, original work. i imagine that i see one possible source of error in your beautiful experiment of a plant rotating and exposed to a lateral light. with high respect and with sincere thanks for the kind manner in which you have treated me and my mistakes, i remain, my dear sir, yours sincerely, charles darwin. chapter .xv. -- miscellaneous botanical letters. - . [the present chapter contains a series of miscellaneous letters on botanical subjects. some of them show my father's varied interests in botanical science, and others give account of researches which never reached completion.] bloom on leaves and fruit. [his researches into the meaning of the "bloom," or waxy coating found on many leaves, was one of those inquiries which remained unfinished at the time of his death. he amassed a quantity of notes on the subject, part of which i hope to publish at no distant date. (a small instalment on the relation between bloom and the distribution of the stomata on leaves has appeared in the 'journal of the linnean society,' . tschirsch ("linnaea", ) has published results identical with some which my father and myself obtained, viz. that bloom diminishes transpiration. the same fact was previously published by garreau in .) one of his earliest letters on this subject was addressed in august, , to sir joseph hooker:-- "i want a little information from you, and if you do not yourself know, please to enquire of some of the wise men of kew. "why are the leaves and fruit of so many plants protected by a thin layer of waxy matter (like the common cabbage), or with fine hair, so that when such leaves or fruit are immersed in water they appear as if encased in thin glass? it is really a pretty sight to put a pod of the common pea, or a raspberry into water. i find several leaves are thus protected on the under surface and not on the upper. "how can water injure the leaves if indeed this is at all the case?" on this latter point he wrote to sir thomas farrer:-- "i am now become mad about drops of water injuring leaves. please ask mr. paine (sir thomas farrer's gardener.) whether he believes, from his own experience, that drops of water injure leaves or fruit in his conservatories. it is said that the drops act as burning-glasses; if this is true, they would not be at all injurious on cloudy days. as he is so acute a man, i should very much like to hear his opinion. i remember when i grew hot-house orchids i was cautioned not to wet their leaves; but i never then thought on the subject. "i enjoyed my visit greatly with you, and i am very sure that all england could not afford a kinder and pleasanter host." some years later he took up the subject again, and wrote to sir joseph hooker (may , ):-- "i have been looking over my old notes about the "bloom" on plants, and i think that the subject is well worth pursuing, though i am very doubtful of any success. are you inclined to aid me on the mere chance of success, for without your aid i could do hardly anything?"] charles darwin to asa gray. down, june [ ]. ... i am now trying to make out the use or function of "bloom," or the waxy secretion on the leaves and fruit of plants, but am very doubtful whether i shall succeed. can you give me any light? are such plants commoner in warm than in colder climates? i ask because i often walk out in heavy rain, and the leaves of very few wild dicotyledons can be here seen with drops of water rolling off them like quick-silver. whereas in my flower garden, greenhouse, and hot-houses there are several. again, are bloo-protected plants common on your dry western plains? hooker thinks that they are common at the cape of good hope. it is a puzzle to me if they are common under very dry climates, and i find bloom very common on the acacias and eucalypti of australia. some of the eucalypti which do not appear to be covered with bloom have the epidermis protected by a layer of some substance which is dissolved in boiling alcohol. are there any bloo-protected leaves or fruit in the arctic regions? if you can illuminate me, as you so often have done, pray do so; but otherwise do not bother yourself by answering. yours affectionately, c. darwin. charles darwin to w. thiselton dyer. down, september [ ]. my dear dyer, one word to thank you. i declare had it not been for your kindness, we should have broken down. as it is we have made out clearly that with some plants (chiefly succulent) the bloom checks evaporation--with some certainly prevents attacks of insects; with some sea-shore plants prevents injury from salt-water, and, i believe, with a few prevents injury from pure water resting on the leaves. this latter is as yet the most doubtful and the most interesting point in relation to the movements of plants... charles darwin to f. muller. down, july [ ]. my dear sir, your kindness is unbounded, and i cannot tell you how much your last letter (may ) has interested me. i have piles of notes about the effect of water resting on leaves, and their movements (as i supposed) to shake off the drops. but i have not looked over these notes for a long time, and had come to think that perhaps my notion was mere fancy, but i had intended to begin experimenting as soon as i returned home; and now with your invaluable letter about the position of the leaves of various plants during rain (i have one analogous case with acacia from south africa), i shall be stimulated to work in earnest. variability. [the following letter refers to a subject on which my father felt the strongest interest:--the experimental investigation of the causes of variability. the experiments alluded to were to some extent planned out, and some preliminary work was begun in the direction indicated below, but the research was ultimately abandoned.] charles darwin to j.h. gilbert. (dr. gilbert, f.r.s., joint author with sir john bennett lawes of a long series of valuable researches in scientific agriculture.) down, february , . my dear sir, when i met you at the linnean society, you were so kind as to say that you would aid me with advice, and this will be of the utmost value to me and my son. i will first state my object, and hope that you will excuse a long letter. it is admitted by all naturalists that no problem is so perplexing as what causes almost every cultivated plant to vary, and no experiments as yet tried have thrown any light on the subject. now for the last ten years i have been experimenting in crossing and self-fertilising plants; and one indirect result has surprised me much; namely, that by taking pains to cultivate plants in pots under glass during several successive generations, under nearly similar conditions, and by self-fertilising them in each generation, the colour of the flowers often changes, and, what is very remarkable, they became in some of the most variable species, such as mimulus, carnation, etc., quite constant, like those of a wild species. this fact and several others have led me to the suspicion that the cause of variation must be in different substances absorbed from the soil by these plants when their powers of absorption are not interfered with by other plants with which they grow mingled in a state of nature. therefore my son and i wish to grow plants in pots in soil entirely, or as nearly entirely as is possible, destitute of all matter which plants absorb, and then to give during several successive generations to several plants of the same species as different solutions as may be compatible with their life and health. and now, can you advise me how to make soil approximately free of all the substances which plants naturally absorb? i suppose white silver sand, sold for cleaning harness, etc., is nearly pure silica, but what am i to do for alumina? without some alumina i imagine that it would be impossible to keep the soil damp and fit for the growth of plants. i presume that clay washed over and over again in water would still yield mineral matter to the carbonic acid secreted by the roots. i should want a good deal of soil, for it would be useless to experimentise unless we could fill from twenty to thirty moderately sized flower-pots every year. can you suggest any plan? for unless you can it would, i fear, be useless for us to commence an attempt to discover whether variability depends at all on matter absorbed from the soil. after obtaining the requisite kind of soil, my notion is to water one set of plants with nitrate of potassium, another set with nitrate of sodium, and another with nitrate of lime, giving all as much phosphate of ammonia as they seemed to support, for i wish the plants to grow as luxuriantly as possible. the plants watered with nitrate of na and of ca would require, i suppose, some k; but perhaps they would get what is absolutely necessary from such soil as i should be forced to employ, and from the rain-water collected in tanks. i could use hard water from a deep well in the chalk, but then all the plants would get lime. if the plants to which i give nitrate of na and of ca would not grow i might give them a little alum. i am well aware how very ignorant i am, and how crude my notions are; and if you could suggest any other solutions by which plants would be likely to be affected it would be a very great kindness. i suppose that there are no organic fluids which plants would absorb, and which i could procure? i must trust to your kindness to excuse me for troubling you at such length, and, i remain, dear sir, yours sincerely, charles darwin. [the next letter to professor semper (professor of zoology at wurzburg.) bears on the same subject:] from charles darwin to k. semper. down, july , . my dear professor semper, i have been much pleased to receive your letter, but i did not expect you to answer my former one... i cannot remember what i wrote to you, but i am sure that it must have expressed the interest which i felt in reading your book. (published in the 'international scientific series,' in , under the title, 'the natural conditions of existence as they affect animal life.') i thought that you attributed too much weight to the direct action of the environment; but whether i said so i know not, for without being asked i should have thought it presumptuous to have criticised your book, nor should i now say so had i not during the last few days been struck with professor hoffmann's review of his own work in the 'botanische zeitung,' on the variability of plants; and it is really surprising how little effect he produced by cultivating certain plants under unnatural conditions, as the presence of salt, lime, zinc, etc., etc., during several generations. plants, moreover, were selected which were the most likely to vary under such conditions, judging from the existence of closely-allied forms adapted for these conditions. no doubt i originally attributed too little weight to the direct action of conditions, but hoffmann's paper has staggered me. perhaps hundreds of generations of exposure are necessary. it is a most perplexing subject. i wish i was not so old, and had more strength, for i see lines of research to follow. hoffmann even doubts whether plants vary more under cultivation than in their native home and under their natural conditions. if so, the astonishing variations of almost all cultivated plants must be due to selection and breeding from the varying individuals. this idea crossed my mind many years ago, but i was afraid to publish it, as i thought that people would say, "how he does exaggerate the importance of selection." i still must believe that changed conditions give the impulse to variability, but that they act in most cases in a very indirect manner. but, as i said, it is a most perplexing problem. pray forgive me for writing at such length; i had no intention of doing so when i sat down to write. i am extremely sorry to hear, for your own sake and for that of science, that you are so hard worked, and that so much of your time is consumed in official labour. pray believe me, dear professor semper, yours sincerely, charles darwin. galls. [shortly before his death, my father began to experimentise on the possibility of producing galls artificially. a letter to sir j.d. hooker (november , ) shows the interest which he felt in the question:-- "i was delighted with paget's essay ('disease in plants,' by sir james paget.--see "gardeners' chronicle", .); i hear that he has occasionally attended to this subject from his youth... i am very glad he has called attention to galls: this has always seemed to me a profoundly interesting subject; and if i had been younger would take it up." his interest in this subject was connected with his ever-present wish to learn something of the causes of variation. he imagined to himself wonderful galls caused to appear on the ovaries of plants, and by these means he thought it possible that the seed might be influenced, and thus new varieties arise. he made a considerable number of experiments by injecting various reagents into the tissues of leaves, and with some slight indications of success.] aggregation. [the following letter gives an idea of the subject of the last of his published papers. ('journal of the linnean society.' volume xix, , pages and .) the appearances which he observed in leaves and roots attracted him, on account of their relation to the phenomena of aggregation which had so deeply interested him when he was at work on drosera:] charles darwin to s.h. vines. (reader in botany in the university of cambridge.) down, november , . my dear mr. vines, as i know how busy you are, it is a great shame to trouble you. but you are so rich in chemical knowledge about plants, and i am so poor, that i appeal to your charity as a pauper. my question is--do you know of any solid substance in the cells of plants which glycerine and water dissolves? but you will understand my perplexity better if i give you the facts: i mentioned to you that if a plant of euphorbia peplus is gently dug up and the roots placed for a short time in a weak solution ( to , of water, suffices in hours) of carbonate of ammonia the (generally) alternate longitudinal rows of cells in every rootlet, from the root-cap up to the very top of the root (but not as far as i have yet seen in the green stem) become filled with translucent, brownish grains of matter. these rounded grains often cohere and even become confluent. pure phosphate and nitrate of ammonia produce (though more slowly) the same effect, as does pure carbonate of soda. now, if slices of root under a cover-glass are irrigated with glycerine and water, every one of the innumerable grains in the cells disappear after some hours. what am i to think of this.?... forgive me for bothering you to such an extent; but i must mention that if the roots are dipped in boiling water there is no deposition of matter, and carbonate of ammonia afterwards produces no effect. i should state that i now find that the granular matter is formed in the cells immediately beneath the thin epidermis, and a few other cells near the vascular tissue. if the granules consisted of living protoplasm (but i can see no traces of movement in them), then i should infer that the glycerine killed them and aggregation ceased with the diffusion of invisibly minute particles, for i have seen an analogous phenomenon in drosera. if you can aid me, pray do so, and anyhow forgive me. yours very sincerely, ch. darwin. mr. torbitt's experiments on the potato-disease. [mr. james torbitt, of belfast, has been engaged for the last twelve years in the difficult undertaking, in which he has been to a large extent successful, of raising fungus-proof varieties of the potato. my father felt great interest in mr. torbitt's work, and corresponded with him from onwards. the following letter, giving a clear account of mr. torbitt's method and of my father's opinion of the probability of its success, was written with the idea that government aid for the work might possibly be obtainable:] charles darwin to t.h. farrer. down, march , . my dear farrer, mr. torbitt's plan of overcoming the potato-disease seems to me by far the best which has ever been suggested. it consists, as you know from his printed letter, of rearing a vast number of seedlings from cross-fertilised parents, exposing them to infection, ruthlessly destroying all that suffer, saving those which resist best, and repeating the process in successive seminal generations. my belief in the probability of good results from this process rests on the fact of all characters whatever occasionally varying. it is known, for instance, that certain species and varieties of the vine resist phylloxera better than others. andrew knight found in one variety or species of the apple which was not in the least attacked by coccus, and another variety has been observed in south australia. certain varieties of the peach resist mildew, and several other such cases could be given. therefore there is no great improbability in a new variety of potato arising which would resist the fungus completely, or at least much better than any existing variety. with respect to the cross-fertilisation of two distinct seedling plants, it has been ascertained that the offspring thus raised inherit much more vigorous constitutions and generally are more prolific than seedlings from self-fertilised parents. it is also probable that cross-fertilisation would be especially valuable in the case of the potato, as there is reason to believe that the flowers are seldom crossed by our native insects; and some varieties are absolutely sterile unless fertilised with pollen from a distinct variety. there is some evidence that the good effects from a cross are transmitted for several generations; it would not, therefore be necessary to cross-fertilise the seedlings in each generation, though this would be desirable, as it is almost certain that a greater number of seeds would thus be obtained. it should be remembered that a cross between plants raised from the tubers of the same plant, though growing on distinct roots, does no more good than a cross between flowers on the same individual. considering the whole subject, it appears to me that it would be a national misfortune if the cros-fertilised seeds in mr. torbitt's possession produced by parents which have already shown some power of resisting the disease, are not utilised by the government, or some public body, and the process of selection continued during several more generations. should the agricultural society undertake the work, mr. torbitt's knowledge gained by experience would be especially valuable; and an outline of the plan is given in his printed letter. it would be necessary that all the tubers produced by each plant should be collected separately, and carefully examined in each succeeding generation. it would be advisable that some kind of potato eminently liable to the disease should be planted in considerable numbers near the seedlings so as to infect them. altogether the trial would be one requiring much care and extreme patience, as i know from experience with analogous work, and it may be feared that it would be difficult to find any one who would pursue the experiment with sufficient energy. it seems, therefore, to me highly desirable that mr. torbitt should be aided with some small grant so as to continue the work himself. judging from his reports, his efforts have already been crowned in so short a time with more success than could have been anticipated; and i think you will agree with me, that any one who raises a fungus-proof potato will be a public benefactor of no common kind. my dear farrer, yours sincerely, charles darwin. [after further consultation with sir thomas farrer and with mr. caird, my father became convinced that it was hopeless to attempt to obtain government aid. he wrote to mr. torbitt to this effect, adding, "it would be less trouble to get up a subscription from a few rich leading agriculturists than from government. this plan i think you cannot object to, as you have asked nothing, and will have nothing whatever to do with the subscription. in fact, the affair is, in my opinion, a compliment to you." the idea here broached was carried out, and mr. torbitt was enabled to continue his work by the aid of a sum to which sir t. farrer, mr. caird, my father, and a few friends, subscribed. my father's sympathy and encouragement were highly valued by mr. torbitt, who tells me that without them he should long ago have given up his attempt. a few extracts will illustrate my father's fellow feeling with mr. torbitt's energy and perseverance:-- "i admire your indomitable spirit. if any one ever deserved success, you do so, and i keep to my original opinion that you have a very good chance of raising a fungus-proof variety of the potato. "a pioneer in a new undertaking is sure to meet with many disappointments, so i hope that you will keep up your courage, though we have done so very little for you." mr. torbitt tells me that he still ( ) succeeds in raising varieties possessing well-marked powers of resisting disease; but this immunity is not permanent, and, after some years, the varieties become liable to the attacks of the fungus.] the kew index of plant-names, or 'nomenclator darwinianus.' [some account of my father's connection with the index of plant-names now ( ) in course of preparation at kew will be found in mr. b. daydon jackson's paper in the 'journal of botany,' , page . mr. jackson quotes the following statement by sir j.d. hooker:-- "shortly before his death, mr. charles darwin informed sir joseph hooker that it was his intention to devote a considerable sum of money annually for some years in aid or furtherance of some work or works of practical utility to biological science, and to make provisions in his will in the event of these not being completed during his lifetime. "amongst other objects connected with botanical science, mr. darwin regarded with especial interest the importance of a complete index to the names and authors of the genera and species of plants known to botanists, together with their native countries. steudel's 'nomenclator' is the only existing work of this nature, and although now nearly half a century old, mr. darwin had found it of great aid in his own researches. it has been indispensable to every botanical institution, whether as a list of all known flowering plants, as an indication of their authors, or as a digest of botanical geography." since , when the 'nomenclator' was published, the number of described plants may be said to have doubled, so that the 'nomenclator' is now seriously below the requirements of botanical work. to remedy this want, the 'nomenclator' has been from time to time posted up in an interleaved copy in the herbarium at kew, by the help of "funds supplied by private liberality." (kew gardens report, , page .) my father, like other botanists, had as sir joseph hooker points out, experienced the value of steudel's work. he obtained plants from all sorts of sources, which were often incorrectly named, and he felt the necessity of adhering to the accepted nomenclature, so that he might convey to other workers precise indications as to the plants which he had studied. it was also frequently a matter of importance to him to know the native country of his experimental plants. thus it was natural that he should recognize the desirability of completing and publishing the interleaved volume at kew. the wish to help in this object was heightened by the admiration he felt for the results for which the world has to thank the royal gardens at kew, and by his gratitude for the invaluable aid which for so many years he received from its director and his staff. he expressly stated that it was his wish "to aid in some way the scientific work carried on at the royal gardens" (kew gardens report, , page .)--which induced him to offer to supply funds for the completion of the kew 'nomenclator.' the following passage, for which i am indebted to professor judd, is of much interest, as illustrating the motives that actuated my father in this matter. professor judd writes:-- "on the occasion of my last visit to him, he told me that his income having recently greatly increased, while his wants remained the same, he was most anxious to devote what he could spare to the advancement of geology or biology. he dwelt in the most touching manner on the fact that he owed so much happiness and fame to the natural-history sciences, which had been the solace of what might have been a painful existence;--and he begged me, if i knew of any research which could be aided by a grant of a few hundreds of pounds, to let him know, as it would be a delight to him to feel that he was helping in promoting the progress of science. he informed me at the same time that he was making the same suggestion to sir joseph hooker and professor huxley with respect to botany and zoology respectively. i was much impressed by the earnestness, and, indeed, deep emotion, with which he spoke of his indebtedness to science, and his desire to promote its interests." sir joseph hooker was asked by my father "to take into consideration, with the aid of the botanical staff at kew and the late mr. bentham, the extent and scope of the proposed work, and to suggest the best means of having it executed. in doing this, sir joseph had further the advantage of the great knowledge and experience of professor asa gray, of cambridge, u.s.a., and of mr. john ball, f.r.s." ('journal of botany,' loc. cit.) the plan of the proposed work having been carefully considered, sir joseph hooker was able to confide its elaboration in detail to mr. b. daydon jackson, secretary of the linnean society, whose extensive knowledge of botanical literature qualifies him for the task. my father's original idea of producing a modern edition of steudel's 'nomenclator' has been practically abandoned, the aim now kept in view is rather to construct a list of genera and species (with references) founded on bentham and hooker's 'genera plantarum.' the colossal nature of the work in progress at kew may be estimated by the fact that the manuscript of the 'index' is at the present time ( ) believed to weigh more than a ton. under sir joseph hooker's supervision the work goes steadily forward, being carried out with admirable zeal by mr. jackson, who devotes himself unsparingly to the enterprise, in which, too, he has the advantage of the active interest in the work felt by professor oliver and mr. thiselton dyer. the kew 'index,' which will, in all probability, be ready to go to press in four or five years, will be a fitting memorial of my father: and his share in its completion illustrates a part of his character--his ready sympathy with work outside his own lines of investigation--and his respect for minute and patient labour in all branches of science.] chapter .xvi. -- conclusion. some idea of the general course of my father's health may have been gathered from the letters given in the preceding pages. the subject of health appears more prominently than is often necessary in a biography, because it was, unfortunately, so real an element in determining the outward form of his life. during the last ten years of his life the condition of his health was a cause of satisfaction and hope to his family. his condition showed signs of amendment in several particulars. he suffered less distress and discomfort, and was able to work more steadily. something has been already said of dr. bence jones's treatment, from which my father certainly derived benefit. in later years he became a patient of sir andrew clark, under whose care he improved greatly in general health. it was not only for his generously rendered service that my father felt a debt of gratitude towards sir andrew clark. he owed to his cheering personal influence an ofte-repeated encouragement, which laterally added something real to his happiness, and he found sincere pleasure in sir andrew's friendship and kindness towards himself and his children. scattered through the past pages are one or two references to pain or uneasiness felt in the region of the heart. how far these indicate that the heart was affected early in life, i cannot pretend to say; in any case it is certain that he had no serious or permanent trouble of this nature until shortly before his death. in spite of the general improvement in his health, which has been above alluded to, there was a certain loss of physical vigour occasionally apparent during the last few years of his life. this is illustrated by a sentence in a letter to his old friend sir james sulivan, written on january , : "my scientific work tires me more than it used to do, but i have nothing else to do, and whether one is worn out a year or two sooner or later signifies but little." a similar feeling is shown in a letter to sir j.d. hooker of june , . my father was staying at patterdale, and wrote: "i am rather despondent about myself... i have not the heart or strength to begin any investigation lasting years, which is the only thing which i enjoy, and i have no little jobs which i can do." in july, , he wrote to mr. wallace, "we have just returned home after spending five weeks on ullswater; the scenery is quite charming, but i cannot walk, and everything tires me, even seeing scenery... what i shall do with my few remaining years of life i can hardly tell. i have everything to make me happy and contented, but life has become very wearisome to me." he was, however, able to do a good deal of work, and that of a trying sort (on the action of carbonate of ammonia on roots and leaves.), during the autumn of , but towards the end of the year he was clearly in need of rest; and during the winter was in a lower condition than was usual with him. on december he went for a week to his daughter's house in bryanston street. during his stay in london he went to call on mr. romanes, and was seized when on the door-step with an attack apparently of the same kind as those which afterwards became so frequent. the rest of the incident, which i give in mr. romanes' words, is interesting too from a different point of view, as giving one more illustration of my father's scrupulous consideration for others:-- "i happened to be out, but my butler, observing that mr. darwin was ill, asked him to come in, he said he would prefer going home, and although the butler urged him to wait at least until a cab could be fetched, he said he would rather not give so much trouble. for the same reason he refused to allow the butler to accompany him. accordingly he watched him walking with difficulty towards the direction in which cabs were to be met with, and saw that, when he had got about three hundred yards from the house, he staggered and caught hold of the park-railings as if to prevent himself from falling. the butler therefore hastened to his assistance, but after a few seconds saw him turn round with the evident purpose of retracing his steps to my house. however, after he had returned part of the way he seems to have felt better, for he again changed his mind, and proceeded to find a cab." during the last week of february and in the beginning of march, attacks of pain in the region of the heart, with irregularity of the pulse, became frequent, coming on indeed nearly every afternoon. a seizure of this sort occurred about march , when he was walking alone at a short distance from the house; he got home with difficulty, and this was the last time that he was able to reach his favourite 'sand-walk.' shortly after this, his illness became obviously more serious and alarming, and he was seen by sir andrew clark, whose treatment was continued by dr. norman moore, of st. bartholomew's hospital, and mr. alfrey, of st. mary cray. he suffered from distressing sensations of exhaustion and faintness, and seemed to recognise with deep depression the fact that his working days were over. he gradually recovered from this condition, and became more cheerful and hopeful, as is shown in the following letter to mr. huxley, who was anxious that my father should have closer medical supervision than the existing arrangements allowed: down, march , . my dear huxley, your most kind letter has been a real cordial to me. i have felt better to-day than for three weeks, and have felt as yet no pain. your plan seems an excellent one, and i will probably act upon it, unless i get very much better. dr. clark's kindness is unbounded to me, but he is too busy to come here. once again, accept my cordial thanks, my dear old friend. i wish to god there were more automata (the allusion is to mr. huxley's address 'on the hypothesis that animals are automata, and its history,' given at the belfast meeting of the british association in , and republished in 'science and culture.') in the world like you. ever yours, ch. darwin." the allusion to sir andrew clark requires a word of explanation. sir andrew clark himself was ever ready to devote himself to my father, who, however, could not endure the thought of sending for him, knowing how severely his great practice taxed his strength. no especial change occurred during the beginning of april, but on saturday th he was seized with giddiness while sitting at dinner in the evening, and fainted in an attempt to reach his sofa. on the th he was again better, and in my temporary absence recorded for me the progress of an experiment in which i was engaged. during the night of april th, about a quarter to twelve, he had a severe attack and passed into a faint, from which he was brought back to consciousness with great difficulty. he seemed to recognise the approach of death, and said, "i am not the least afraid to die." all the next morning he suffered from terrible nausea and faintness, and hardly rallied before the end came. he died at about four o'clock on wednesday, april th, , in the seventy-fourth year of his age. i close the record of my father's life with a few words of retrospect added to the manuscript of his 'autobiography' in :-- "as for myself, i believe that i have acted rightly in steadily following, and devoting my life to science. i feel no remorse from having committed any great sin, but have often and often regretted that i have not done more direct good to my fellow creatures." appendix i. the funeral in westminster abbey. on the friday succeeding my father's death, the following letter, signed by twenty members of parliament, was addressed to dr. bradley, dean of westminster:-- house of commons, april , . very rev. sir, we hope you will not think we are taking a liberty if we venture to suggest that it would be acceptable to a very large number of our fellow-countrymen of all classes and opinions that our illustrious countryman, mr. darwin, should be buried in westminster abbey. we remain, your obedient servants, john lubbock, nevil storey maskelyne, a.j. mundella, g.o. trevelyan, lyon playfair, charles w. dilke, david wedderburn, arthur russel, horace davey, benjamin armitage, richard b. martin, francis w. buxton, e.l. stanley, henry broadhurst, john barran, f.j. cheetham, h.s. holland, h. campbell-bannerman, charles bruce, richard fort. the dean was abroad at the time, and telegraphed his cordial acquiescence. the family had desired that my father should be buried at down: with regard to their wishes, sir john lubbock wrote:-- house of commons, april , . my dear darwin, i quite sympathise with your feeling, and personally i should greatly have preferred that your father should have rested in down amongst us all. it is, i am sure, quite understood that the initiative was not taken by you. still, from a national point of view, it is clearly right that he should be buried in the abbey. i esteem it a great privilege to be allowed to accompany my dear master to the grave. believe me, yours most sincerely, john lubbock. w.e. darwin, esq. the family gave up their first-formed plans, and the funeral took place in westminster abbey on april th. the pall-bearers were:-- sir john lubbock, mr. huxley, mr. james russell lowell (american minister), mr. a.r. wallace, the duke of devonshire, canon farrar, sir j.d. hooker, mr. wm. spottiswoode (president of the royal society), the earl of derby, the duke of argyll. the funeral was attended by the representatives of france, germany, italy, spain, russia, and by those of the universities, and learned societies, as well as by large numbers of personal friends and distinguished men. the grave is in the north aisle of the nave close to the angle of the choir-screen, and a few feet from the grave of sir isaac newton. the stone bears the inscription-- charles robert darwin. born february, . died april, . appendix ii. i.--list of works by charles darwin. narrative of the surveying voyages of her majesty's ships 'adventure' and 'beagle' between the years and , describing their examination of the southern shores of south america, and the 'beagle's' circumnavigation of the globe. volume iii. journal and remarks, - . by charles darwin. vo. london, . journal of researches into the natural history and geology of the countries visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle' round the world, under the command of captain fitz-roy, r.n. nd edition, corrected, with additions. vo. london, . (colonial and home library.) a naturalist's voyage. journal of researches, etc., vo. london, . [contains a postscript dated february , .] zoology of the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle.' edited and superintended by charles darwin. part i. fossil mammalia, by richard owen. with a geological introduction, by charles darwin. to. london, . --part ii. mammalia, by george r. waterhouse. with a notice of their habits and ranges, by charles darwin. to. london, . --part iii. birds, by john gould. an "advertisement" ( pages) states that in consequence of mr. gould's having left england for australia, many descriptions were supplied by mr. g.r. gray of the british museum. to. london, . --part iv. fish, by rev. leonard jenyns. to. london, . --part v. reptiles, by thomas bell. to. london, . the structure and distribution of coral reefs. being the first part of the geology of the voyage of the 'beagle.' vo. london, . the structure and distribution of coral reefs. nd edition. vo. london, . geological observations on the volcanic islands, visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle.' being the second part of the geology of the voyage of the 'beagle.' vo. london, . geological observations on south america. being the third part of the geology of the voyage of the 'beagle.' vo. london, . geological observations on the volcanic islands and parts of south america visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle.' nd edition. vo. london, . a monograph of the fossil lepadidae; or, pedunculated cirripedes of great britain. to. london, . (palaeontographical society.) a monograph of the sub-class cirripedia, with figures of all the species. the lepadidae; or, pedunculated cirripedes. vo. london, . (ray society.) --the balanidae (or sessile cirripedes); the verrucidae, etc. vo. london, . (ray society.) a monograph of the fossil balanidae and verrucidae of great britain. to. london, . (palaeontographical society.) on the origin of species by means of natural selection, or the preservation of favoured races in the struggle for life. vo. london, . (dated october st, , published november , .) --fifth thousand. vo. london, . --third edition, with additions and corrections. (seventh thousand.) vo. london, . (dated march, .) --fourth edition with additions and corrections. (eighth thousand.) vo. london, . (dated june, .) --fifth edition, with additions and corrections. (tenth thousand.) vo. london, . (dated may, .) --sixth edition, with additions and corrections to . (twenty-fourth thousand.) vo. london, . (dated january, .) on the various contrivances by which orchids are fertilised by insects. vo. london, . --second edition. vo. london, . [in the second edition the word "on" is omitted from the title.] the movements and habits of climbing plants. second edition. vo. london, . [first appeared in the ninth volume of the 'journal of the linnean society.'] the variation of animals and plants under domestication. volumes. vo. london, . --second edition, revised. volumes. vo. london, . the descent of man, and selection in relation to sex. volumes. vo. london, . --second edition. vo. london, . (in volume.) the expression of the emotions in man and animals. vo. london, . insectivorous plants. vo. london, . the effects of cross and self fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom. vo. london, . --second edition. vo. london, . the different forms of flowers on plants of the same species. vo. london, . --second edition. vo. london, . the power of movement in plants. by charles darwin, assisted by francis darwin. vo. london, . the formation of vegetable mould, through the action of worms, with observations on their habits. vo. london, . ii.--list of books containing contributions by charles darwin. a manual of scientific enquiry; prepared for the use of her majesty's navy: and adapted for travellers in general. edited by sir john f.w. herschel, bart. vo. london, . (section vi. geology. by charles darwin.) memoir of the rev. john stevens henslow. by the rev. leonard jenyns. vo. london, . [in chapter iii., recollections by charles darwin.] a letter ( ) on the 'drift' near southampton published in prof. j. geikie's 'prehistoric europe.' flowers and their unbidden guests. by a. kerner. with a prefatory letter by charles darwin. the translation revised and edited by w. ogle. vo. london, . erasmus darwin. by ernst krause. translated from the german by w.s. dallas. with a preliminary notice by charles darwin. vo. london, . studies in the theory of descent. by august weismann. translated and edited by raphael meldola. with a prefatory notice by charles darwin. vo. london, --. the fertilisation of flowers. by hermann muller. translated and edited by d'arcy w. thompson. with a preface by charles darwin. vo. london, . mental evolution in animals. by g.j. romanes. with a posthumous essay on instinct by charles darwin, . [also published in the journal of the linnean society.] some notes on a curious habit of male humble bees were sent to prof. hermann muller, of lippstadt, who had permission from mr. darwin to make what use he pleased of them. after muller's death the notes were given by his son to dr. e. krause, who published them under the title, "ueber die wege der hummel-mannchen" in his book, 'gesammelte kleinere schriften von charles darwin.' ( ). iii.--list of scientific papers, including a selection of letters and short communications to scientific journals. letters to professor henslow, read by him at the meeting of the cambridge philosophical society, held november , . pages. vo. privately printed for distribution among the members of the society. geological notes made during a survey of the east and west coasts of south america in the years , , , and ; with an account of a transverse section of the cordilleras of the andes between valparaiso and mendoza. [read november , .] geology society proc. ii. , pages - . [this paper is incorrectly described in geology society proc. ii., page as follows:--"geological notes, etc., by f. darwin, esq., of st. john's college, cambridge: communicated by prof. sedgwick." it is indexed under c. darwin.] notes upon the rhea americana. zoology society proc., part v. . pages - . observations of proofs of recent elevation on the coast of chili, made during the survey of h.m.s. "beagle," commanded by captain fitz-roy. [ .] geological society proc. ii. , pages - . a sketch of the deposits containing extinct mammalia in the neighbourhood of the plata. [ .] geological society proc. ii. , pages - . on certain areas of elevation and subsidence in the pacific and indian oceans, as deduced from the study of coral formations. [ .] geological society proc. ii. , pages - . on the formation of mould. [read november , .] geological society proc. ii. , pages - ; geological society transactions v. , pages - . on the connexion of certain volcanic phenomena and on the formation of mountain-chains and the effects of continental elevations. [read march , .] geological society proc. ii. , pages - ; geological society transactions v. , pages - . [in the society's transactions the wording of the title is slightly different.] origin of saliferous deposits. salt lakes of patagonia and la plata. geological society journal ii. (part ii.), , pages - . note on a rock seen on an iceberg in deg south latitude. geographical society journal ix. , pages - . observations on the parallel roads of glen roy, and of other parts of lochaber in scotland, with an attempt to prove that they are of marine origin. phil. trans. , pages - . on a remarkable bar of sandstone off pernambuco, on the coast of brazil. phil. mag. xix. , pages - . on the distribution of the erratic boulders and on the contemporaneous unstratified deposits of south america. [ .] geological society proc. iii. , pages - ; geological society transactions vi. , pages - . notes on the effects produced by the ancient glaciers of caernarvonshire, and on the boulders transported by floating ice. london philosophical magazine volume xxi. page . . remarks on the preceding paper, in a letter from charles darwin, esq., to mr. maclaren. edinburgh new philosophical journal xxxiv. , pages - . [the "preceding" paper is: "on coral islands and reefs as described by mr. darwin. by charles maclaren, esq., f.r.s.e."] observations on the structure and propagation of the genus sagitta. annals and magazine of natural history xiii. , pages - . brief descriptions of several terrestrial planariae, and of some remarkable marine species, with an account of their habits. annals and magazine of natural history xiv. , pages - . an account of the fine dust which often falls on vessels in the atlantic ocean. geological society journal ii. , pages - . on the geology of the falkland islands. geological society journal ii. , pages - . a review of waterhouse's 'natural history of the mammalia.' [not signed.] annals and magazine of natural history . volume xix. page . on the transportal of erratic boulders from a lower to a higher level. geological society journal iv. , pages - . on british fossil lepadidae. geological society journal vi. , pages - . [the g.s.j. says "this paper was withdrawn by the author with the permission of the council."] analogy of the structure of some volcanic rocks with that of glaciers. edinburgh royal society proc. ii. , pages - . on the power of icebergs to make rectilinear, uniformly-directed grooves across a submarine undulatory surface. philosophical magazine x. , pages - . vitality of seeds. "gardeners' chronicle", november , , page . on the action of sea-water on the germination of seeds. [ .] linnean society journal i. ("botany"), pages - . on the agency of bees in the fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers. "gardeners' chronicle", page , . on the tendency of species to form varieties; and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection. by charles darwin, esq., f.r.s., f.l.s., and f.g.s., and alfred wallace, esq. [read july st, .] journal of the linnean society , volume iii. ("zoology"), page . special titles of charles darwin's contributions to the foregoing:-- i. extract from an unpublished work on species by charles darwin esq., consisting of a portion of a chapter entitled, "on the variation of organic beings in a state of nature; on the natural means of selection; on the comparison of domestic races and true species." ii. abstract of a letter from c. darwin, esq., to professor asa gray, of boston u.s., dated september , . on the agency of bees in the fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers, and on the crossing of kidney beans. "gardeners' chronicle", , page and annals of natural history rd series ii. , pages - . do the tineina or other small moths suck flowers, and if so what flowers? "entomological weekly intelligencer" volume viii. , page . note on the achenia of pumilio argyrolepis. "gardeners' chronicle", january , , page . fertilisation of vincas. "gardeners' chronicle", pages , , . . on the two forms, or dimorphic condition, in the species of primula, and on their remarkable sexual relations. linnean society journal vi. ("botany"), pages - . on the three remarkable sexual forms of catasetum tridentatum, an orchid in the possession of the linnean society. linnean society journal vi. ("botany"), pages - . yellow rain. "gardeners' chronicle", july , , page . on the thickness of the pampean formation near buenos ayres. geological society journal xix. , pages - . on the so-called "auditory-sac" of cirripedes. natural history review, , pages - . a review of mr. bates' paper on 'mimetic butterflies.' natural history review, , page -. [not signed.] on the existence of two forms, and on their reciprocal sexual relation, in several species of the genus linum. linnean society journal vii. ("botany"), pages - . on the sexual relations of the three forms of lythrum salicaria. [ .] linnean society journal viii. ("botany"), pages - . on the movement and habits of climbing plants. [ .] linnean society journal ix. ("botany"), pages - . note on the common broom (cytisus scoparius). [ .] linnean society journal ix. ("botany"), page . notes on the fertilization of orchids. annals and magazine of natural history, th series, iv. , pages - . on the character and hybrid-like nature of the offspring from the illegitimate unions of dimorphic and trimorphic plants. [ .] linnean society journal x. ("botany"), pages - . on the specific difference between primula veris, british fl. (var. officinalis, of linn.), p. vulgaris, british fl. (var. acaulis, linn.), and p. elatior, jacq.; and on the hybrid nature of the common oxlip. with supplementary remarks on naturally produced hybrids in the genus verbascum. [ .] linnean society journal x. ("botany"), pages - . note on the habits of the pampas woodpecker (colaptes campestris). zoological society proceedings november , , pages - . fertilisation of leschenaultia. "gardeners' chronicle", page , . the fertilisation of winter-flowering plants. 'nature,' november , , volume i. page . pangenesis. 'nature,' april , , volume iii. page . a new view of darwinism. 'nature,' july , , volume iv. page . bree on darwinism. 'nature,' august , , volume vi. page . inherited instinct. 'nature,' february , , volume vii. page . perception in the lower animals. 'nature,' march , , volume vii. page . origin of certain instincts. 'nature,' april , , volume vii. page . habits of ants. 'nature,' july , , volume viii. page . on the males and complemental males of certain cirripedes, and on rudimentary structures. 'nature,' september , , volume viii. page . recent researches on termites and honey-bees. 'nature,' february , , volume ix. page . fertilisation of the fumariaceae. 'nature,' april , , volume ix. page . flowers of the primrose destroyed by birds. 'nature,' april , , volume ix. page ; may , , volume x. page . cherry blossoms. 'nature,' may , , volume xiv. page . sexual selection in relation to monkeys. 'nature,' november , , volume xv. page . reprinted as a supplement to the 'descent of man,' .. fritz muller on flowers and insects. 'nature,' november , , volume xvii. page . the scarcity of holly berries and bees. "gardeners' chronicle", january , , page . note on fertilization of plants. "gardeners' chronicle", volume vii. page , . a biographical sketch of an infant. 'mind,' no. , july, . transplantation of shells. 'nature,' may , , volume xviii. page . fritz muller on a frog having eggs on its back--on the abortion of the hairs on the legs of certain caddis-flies, etc. 'nature,' march , , volume xix. page . rats and water-casks. 'nature,' march , , volume xix. page . fertility of hybrids from the common and chinese goose. 'nature,' january , , volume xxi. page . the sexual colours of certain butterflies. 'nature,' january , , volume xxi. page . the omori shell mounds. 'nature,' april , , volume xxi. page . sir wyville thomson and natural selection. 'nature,' november , , volume xxiii. page . black sheep. 'nature,' december , , volume xxiii. page . movements of plants. 'nature,' march , , volume xxiii. page . the movements of leaves. 'nature,' april , , volume xxiii. page . inheritance. 'nature,' july , , volume xxiv. page . leaves injured at night by free radiation. 'nature,' september , , volume xxiv. page . the parasitic habits of molothrus. 'nature,' november , , volume xxv. page . on the dispersal of freshwater bivalves. 'nature,' april , , volume xxv. page . the action of carbonate of ammonia on the roots of certain plants. [read march , .] linnean society journal ("botany"), volume xix. , pages - . the action of carbonate of ammonia on chlorophyll-bodies. [read march , .] linnean society journal ("botany"), volume xix. , pages - . on the modification of a race of syrian street-dogs by means of sexual selection. by w. van dyck. with a preliminary notice by charles darwin. [read april , .] proceedings of the zoological society , pages - . appendix iii. portraits. : water-colour by g. richmond in the possession of the family. : lithograph by ipswich british association series. : chalk drawing by samuel lawrence in the possession of the family. ?: chalk drawing (probably a sketch made at one of the sittings for the last mentioned.) by samuel lawrence in the possession of prof. hughes, cambridge. : bust, marble, by t. woolner, r.a. in the possession of the family. : oil painting (a replica by the artist is in the possession of christ's college, cambridge.) by w. ouless, r.a., etched by p. rajon, in the possession of the family. : oil painting by w.b. richmond in the possession of the university of cambridge. : oil painting (a replica by the artist is in the possession of w.e. darwin, esq., southampton.) by the hon. john collier, in the possession of the linnaean society, etched by leopold flameng. chief portraits and memorials not taken from life. statue by joseph boehm, r.a., in the possession of museum, south kensington. bust by chr. lehr, junr. plaque by t. woolner, r.a., and josiah wedgwood and sons in the possession of christ's college, in charles darwin's room. deep medallion by j. boehm, r.a. to be placed in westminster abbey. chief engravings from photographs. ?: by messrs. maull and fox, engraved on wood for 'harper's magazine' (october ). ?: by o.j. rejlander, engraved on steel by c.h. jeens for 'nature' (june , ). ?: by captain darwin, r.e., engraved on wood for the 'century magazine' (january ). frontispiece, volume i. (the dates of these photographs must, from various causes, remain uncertain. owing to a loss of books by fire, messrs. maull and fox can give only an approximate date. mr. rejlander died some years ago, and his business was broken up. my brother, captain darwin, has no record of the date at which his photograph was taken.) : by messrs. elliott and fry, engraved on wood by g. kruells, for the present work. appendix iv. honours, degrees, societies, etc. (the list has been compiled from the diplomas and letters in my father's possession, and is no doubt incomplete, as he seems to have lost or mislaid some of the papers received from foreign societies. where the name of a foreign society (excluding those in the united states) is given in english, it is a translation of the latin (or in one case russian) of the original diploma.) order.--prussian order, 'pour le merite.' . office.--county magistrate. . degrees. cambridge: b.a. [ ]. see volume i. m.a. . hon. ll.d. . breslau: hon. doctor in medicine and surgery. . bonn: hon. doctor in medicine and surgery. . leyden: hon. m.d. . societies.--london: zoological. corresponding member. . (he afterwards became a fellow of the society.) entomological. , original member. geological. . wollaston medal, . royal geographical. . royal. . royal medal, . copley medal, . linnean. . ethnological. . medico-chirurgical. hon. member. . baly medal of the royal college of physicians, . societies.--provincial, colonial, and indian. royal society of edinburgh, . royal medical society of edinburgh, . hon. member, . royal irish academy. hon. member, . literary and philosophical society of manchester. hon. member, . watford natural history society. hon. member, . asiatic society of bengal. hon. member, . royal society of new south wales. hon. member, . philosophical institute of canterbury, new zealand. hon. member, . new zealand institute. hon. member, . foreign societies.--america. sociedad cientifica argentina. hon. member, . academia nacional de ciencias, argentine republic. hon. member, . sociedad zoologica arjentina. hon. member, . boston society of natural history. hon. member, . american academy of arts and sciences (boston). foreign hon. member, . california academy of sciences. hon. member, . california state geological society. corresponding member, . franklin literary society, indiana. hon. member, . sociedad de naturalistas neo-granadinos. hon. member, . new york academy of sciences. hon. member, . gabinete portuguez de leitura em pernambuco. corresponding member, . academy of natural sciences of philadelphia. correspondent, . american philosophical society, philadelphia. member, . austria-hungary. imperial academy of sciences of vienna. foreign corresponding member, ; hon. foreign member, . anthropologische gesellschaft in wien. hon. member, . k. k. zoologisch-botanische gesellschaft in wien. member, . magyar tudomanyos akademia, pest, . belgium. societe royale des sciences medicales et naturelles de bruxelles. hon. member, . societie royale de botanique de belgique. 'membre associe,' . academie royale des sciences, etc., de belgique. 'associe de la classe des sciences.' . denmark. royal society of copenhagen. fellow, . france. societe d'anthropologie de paris. foreign member, . societe entomologique de france. hon. member, . societe geologique de france (life member), . institut de france. 'correspondant' section of botany, . germany. royal prussian academy of sciences (berlin). corresponding member, ; fellow, . berliner gesellschaft fur anthropologie, etc. corresponding member, . schlesische gesellschaft fur vaterlandische cultur (breslau). hon. member . caesarea leopoldino-carolina academia naturae curiosorum (dresden). . (the diploma contains the words "accipe... ex antiqua nostra consuetudine cognomen forster." it was formerly the custom in the "caesarea leopoldin-carolina academia", that each new member should receive as a 'cognomen,' a name celebrated in that branch of science to which he belonged. thus a physician might be christened boerhave, or an astronomer, kepler. my father seems to have been named after the traveller john reinhold forster.) senkenbergische naturforschende gesellschaft zu frankfurt am main. corresponding member, . naturforschende gesellschaft zu halle. member . siebenburgische verein fur naturwissenschaften (hermannstadt). hon. member, . medicinisch-naturwissenschaftliche gesellschaft zu jena. hon. member, . royal bavarian academy of literature and science (munich). foreign member, . holland. koninklijke natuurkundige vereeniging in nederlandsch-indie (batavia). corresponding member, . societe hollandaise des sciences a harlem. foreign member, . zeeuwsch genootschap der wetenschappen te middelburg. foreign member, . italy. societa geografica italiana (florence). . societa italiana di antropologia e di etnologia (florence). hon. member, . societa dei naturalisti in modena. hon. member, . academia de' lincei di roma. foreign member, . la scuola italica, academia pitagorica, reale ed imp. societa (rome). "presidente onoraria degli anziani pitagorici," . royal academy of turin. . "bressa" prize, . portugal. sociedade de geographia de lisboa (lisbon). corresponding member, . russia. society of naturalists of the imperial kazan university. hon. member, . societas caesarea naturae curiosorum (moscow). hon. member, . imperial academy of sciences (st. petersburg). corresponding member, . spain. institucion libre de ensenanza (madrid). hon. professor, . sweden. royal swedish academy of sciences (stockholm). foreign member, . royal society of sciences (upsala). fellow, . switzerland. societe des sciences naturelles de neuchatel. corresponding member, . index. abbot, f.e., letter to. academy of natural sciences (philadelphia) elects darwin a member. agassiz, alexander, letter to. agassiz, louis, darwin's estimate of. letters to. his attitude toward the 'origin of species.' reviews the 'origin of species.' aggregation, studied by darwin. 'almanack, the naturalists' pocket,' mentioned. andes, darwin crosses the. 'annals and magazine of natural history,' mentioned. anticipation of darwin's views. ants, observations on. appleton, d., & co., publish 'origin of species' in america. argyll, duke of, criticises the 'origin of species.' darwin's comments on his criticisms. darwin on his 'reign of law.' reviews the 'fertilisation of orchids.' aristotle, darwin's estimate of. arrangement of leaves on the stems of plants. 'athenaeum,' darwin on its review of the 'origin of species.' reports british association discussion. darwin's letters to, in his own defence. criticises darwin. australia, development of animals in. australian flora. austrian expedition. autobiography, extracts from. aveling, dr., on darwin's religious views. note. bain, alexander, letter to. balfour, francis m., darwin's estimate of. baly medal presented to darwin. baer, k.e. von, agrees with darwin. bastian, h.c., darwin on his 'beginnings of life.' bates, h.w., darwin on his insect fauna of the amazon valley. letters to. darwin on his mimetic variations of butterflies. bats. "beagle", voyage of. darwin offered an appointment to the. her equipments. object of her voyage. her crew. beetles, collecting. behrens, w., letter to. bell, t., describes darwin's reptiles. bell-stone of shrewsbury mentioned. belt, thomas, darwin on his 'naturalist in nicaragua.' bemmelen, a. van, letter to. bentham, george, his silence on natural selection. letter to francis darwin on his adoption of darwin's views. his view of natural selection. letters to. berkeley, rev. m.j., reviews the 'fertilisation of orchids.' berlin academy of sciences elects darwin corresponding member. bet made by darwin. blomefield (jenyns), rev. leonard, darwin becomes acquainted with. letters to. darwin on his 'observations in natural history.' bloom on leaves and fruit, darwin's work on. blyth, edward, mentioned. boole, mrs., her letter on natural selection and religion. letter to. boott, francis, mentioned. botany, darwin's work on, and its relation to natural selection. bowen, francis, reviews the 'origin of species.' brace, c.l., and wife, darwin on their philanthropic work. brazil, emperor of, wishes to meet darwin. bree, c.r., his work 'species not transmutable.' accuses wallace of blundering, and is answered by darwin. breeding, sources of information on. bressa prize presented to darwin. british association discusses the 'origin of species.' oxford meeting of, allegorized. belfast meeting. bronn, h.g., edits the 'origin of species' in german. letters to. criticisms on the 'origin of species.' brown, robert, mentioned. brunton, t. lauder, letter to. buckle, his system of collecting facts. darwin on his 'history of civilisation.' buckley, miss a.b., letters to. buffon, darwin on. bunbury, sir c., mentioned. butler, samuel, charges darwin of falsehood. butler, dr., his school at shrewsbury. button, jemmy, a visit to. cairns, j.e., his lecture on 'the slave power.' cam bridge, university of, makes darwin ll.d. obtains memorial portrait of him. cameron, mrs., makes a photograph of darwin. canary islands, projected trip to. candolle, alphonse de, letters to. his view of the 'origin of species.' darwin on his 'histoire des sciences et des savants.' carlyle, thomas, on erasmus a. darwin. his interesting talk. carpenter, w.b., letters to. reviews the 'origin of species.' his work on 'foraminifera.' carus, j. victor, letters to. caton, john d., letter to. chambers, r., darwin on his geological views. chance, not implied in evolution. chimney-sweeps, darwin's efforts for. cirripedia, monograph of the. nomenclature of. work on. the so-called auditory sac of. civil war in the united states. darwin on. clark, william, mentioned. clark, sir andrew, is darwin's physician. climate and migration. 'climbing plants,' written and published. work on. republished in book-form. coal, discussion on submarine. cohn, prof., describes a visit to darwin. colenso, bishop, his 'pentateuch and the book of joshua.' collecting, darwin on. butterflies. collier, john, paints darwin's portrait. colours of insects. continental extension, darwin's reasons against. continents, permanence of. cope, e.d., darwin on his theory of acceleration. copley medal presented to darwin. 'coral reefs,' at work upon. opinions on. criticised by semper. darwin's answer to semper. darwin on murray's criticisms of. second edition. crawford, john, reviews the 'origin of species.' creative power. 'creed of science,' read by darwin. cresy, e., letter to. crick, w.d., communicates to darwin a mode of dispersal of bivalve shells. cutting edges of books, darwin on. dana, prof., sends darwin 'geology of u.s. expedition.' dareste, camille, letter to. darwin family. darwin, annie, darwin's account of. death of. darwin, miss c., letter to. darwin, catherine, letters to. darwin, charles, studies medicine at edinburgh. young man of great promise. darwin, charles robert ( - ). table of relationship. ancestors. personal characteristics as traced from his forefathers. love and respect for his father's memory. his affection for his brother erasmus. autobiography. mother dies. taste for natural history. school-boy experiences. humane disposition toward animals. goes to dr. butler's school at shrewsbury. taste for long, solitary walks. inability to master a language. leaves school with strong and diversified tastes. fondness for poetry in early life. a wish to travel first roused by reading 'wonders of the world.' fondness for shooting. collects minerals and becomes interested in insects and birds. studies chemistry. goes to edinburgh university. and attends medical lectures. collects and dissects marine animals. attends meetings of the plinian royal medical and wernerian societies. attends lectures on geology and zoology. meets sir j. mackintosh. spends three years at cambridge studying for the ministry. phrenological characteristics. reads paley with delight. attends henslow's lectures on botany. his taste for pictures and music. his interest in entomology. friendship of prof. henslow and its influence upon his career. meets dr. whewell. reads humboldt's 'personal narrative' and herschel's 'introduction to the study of natural history.' begins the study of geology. field-work in north wales. voyage of the "beagle". receives a proposal to sail in the "beagle". starts for cambridge and thence to london. 'voyage of the "beagle" the most important event in my life.' sails in the "beagle". his letters read before the philosophical society of cambridge. returns to england. begins his 'journal of travels.' takes lodgings in london. begins preparing ms. for his 'geological observations.' arranges for publication of 'zoology of the voyage of the "beagle". opens first note-book of 'origin of species.' meets lyell and robert brown. marries. works on his 'coral reefs.' reads papers before geological society. acts as secretary of the geological society. residence at down. his absorption in science. his publications. 'geological observations' published. success of the 'journal of researches.' begins work on 'cirripedia.' visits to water-cure establishments. work on the 'origin of species.' reads 'malthus on population.' begins notes on 'variation of animals and plants under domestication.' becomes interested in cross-fertilisation of flowers. publishes papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants. publishes 'descent of man.' first child born. publishes translation and sketch of 'life of erasmus darwin.' methods of work. mental qualities. fond of novel reading. a good observer. habits and personal appearance. ill health. fondness for dogs. correspondence. business habits. scientific reading. wide interest in science. journals of daily events. holidays. relation to his family and friends. his account of his little daughter annie. how he brought up his children. manner towards servants. as a host. modesty. not quick at argument. intercourse with strangers. use of simple methods and few instruments. perseverance. theorizing power. books used only as tools. use of note-books and portfolios. courteous tone toward his reader. illustration of his books. consideration for other authors. his wife's tender care. cambridge life. his character. intention of going into the church. appointment to the "beagle". the voyage. life at sea. views on slavery. excursion across the andes. meets sir j. herschel. reaches home. life at london and cambridge. residence at cambridge. works on his 'journal of researches.' appointed secretary of geological society. visits glen roy. admiration for lyell's 'elements.' increasing ill-health. at work on 'coral reefs.' his religious views. life at down, - . reasons for leaving london. early impressions of down. theory of coral islands. time spent on geological books. purchases farm in lincolnshire. dines with lord mahon. daughter annie dies. his children. growth of views on 'origin of species.' plan for publishing 'sketch of ,' in case of his sudden death. pigeon fancying enterprise. collecting plants. general acceptance of his work. publishes 'origin of species.' elected correspondent of the academy of natural sciences (philadelphia). his views on the civil war in the united states. at bournemouth. his view of lyell's 'antiquity of man.' receives the copley medal. elected to royal society of edinburgh. his conscientiousness in argument. his intercourse with horticulturists and stock-raisers. elected to the royal society of holland. made a knight of the prussian order pour le merite. sits for a bust. declines a nomination for the degree of d.c.l. because of ill-health. his connection with the south american missionary society. his answers to galton's questions on nature and nurture. sits for portrait to w. ouless. elected to physiological society. replies to miss cobbe on vivisection in the "times". publishes the 'life of erasmus darwin.' sits for memorial portraits. receives various honours. makes a present to the naples zoological station. his answers to galton's questions on the faculty of visualising. offers aid to fritz muller. replies to sir w. thomson on abyssal fauna. his botanical work. builds a greenhouse. publishes work on the fertilisation of orchids. studies the bloom on leaves and fruit. studies the causes of variability. studies the production of galls. studies aggregation. encourages torbitt's work on the potato disease. aids the preparation of the kew 'index of plant-names.' death. burial in westminster abbey. list of works. darwin & wallace's joint paper on variation. darwin, edward, author of 'gamekeeper's manual.' darwin, mrs. emma (wedgwood), letter to. darwin, erasmus (born ), poet and philosopher. character of. life published in english. darwin, erasmus (born ). darwin, erasmus alvey ( - ), educated as a physician. character of. carlyle's sketch of his character. miss wedgwood's letter on his character. letter from. his death. darwin, robert, of elston hall. charles darwin's estimate of. darwin, robert waring, (born ), publishes 'principia botanica.' darwin, robert waring, (born ), studies medicine at leyden. settles in shrewsbury. marries susannah wedgwood. his son charles's description of him. his six children. letters to. darwin, susan, letters to. darwin, william, of marton, first known ancestor of charles. darwin, william, son of richard, appointed yeoman of the royal armoury. darwin, william ( ). darwyn, richard, of marton, mentioned. davidson, thomas, letter to, asking him to investigate brachiopods. letter to. on british brachiopoda. de candolle, a., see candolle, a. de. descent, doctrine of. descent of animals. 'descent of man,' published. work on. reviews of. reception in germany. wallace's views on. second edition. connected with socialism. design in nature, doctrine of. diagrams of descent of mammals. 'different forms of flowers,' published. reviewed in 'nature.' digestion of plants, darwin's work on. distribution of animals. divergence of character, principle of. dogs, multiple origin of. dohrn, anton, letter to. donders, f.c., letters to. down, description of. drift near southampton, stones standing on end in. du bois-reymond agrees with darwin. dyck, w.t. van, letter to. dyer, w. thiselton, on darwin's botanical work. letters to. ear, human, infolded point of. earthquakes, paper read on. eaton, j., extract from his book on 'pigeons.' 'edinburgh review,' darwin's criticisms on. education, darwin on. 'effects of cross and self-fertilisation,' published. work on. electrical organs in fish. erratic boulders of south america, paper on, read. evolution, doctrine of, objections to, answered. not a doctrine of chance. and teleology. neither anti-theistic nor theistic. mental. expression, facial, origin of. 'expression of the emotions,' published. work on. reviews of. eyre, gov., darwin's views on the prosecution of. fabre, j.h., letter to. falconer, hugh, letters to. mentioned. letter to darwin. views on the origin of elephants. reclamation from lyell's 'antiquity of man.' farrer, f.w., letter to. farrer, sir thomas h., aids darwin's researches on earthworms. letters to. fawcett, henry, defends darwin's reasoning. 'fertilisation of orchids,' published. fiske, john, letter to. fisher, mrs., letters to. fitton, w.h., mentioned. fitz-roy, r.,captain of the "beagle". his character. meets darwin. letters to. his intention of resigning. flint instruments. flourens, p.,on the 'origin of species.' flowers, fertilisation of. forbes, david, praises darwin's work on chile. forbes, edward, his theory of change of level. fordyce, j.,letter to. forel, aug., letter to. 'formation of vegetable mould,' paper read on. published. work on. its reception. fox, william darwin, darwin's friendship with. letters to. france, institute of, elects darwin corresponding member. frauds, scientific. free-will, doctrine of. freke, dr., his 'origin of species by means of organic affinity.' feugians, darwin's impressions of. galapagos animals and plants. galls, production of, studied by darwin. galton, francis, mentioned. his questions on nature and nurture, and darwin's answers. his questions on the faculty of visualising, and darwin's answers. 'gardeners' chronicle,' darwin answers mr. westwood in. gaudry, a., letter to. geikie, archibald, his opinion of darwin's geological works. geikie, james, letter to. genera, varying of large. generation, spontaneous. geographical distribution. 'geological observations,' ms. begun. 'geological observations on volcanic islands' published. opinions on. second edition. 'geological observations on south america,' opinions on. geological record, imperfection of. succession in. geological society, darwin wishes to become a member. papers contributed to. geological specimens secured during voyage. disposed of. geological, importance of. of st. jago. article on, in 'admiralty manual.' darwin on the progress of. germany, progress of natural selection in. germination, experiments in. gilbert, j.h., letter to. glacial period, its effect on species. phenomena at cwm idwal. glaciers, paper on ancient, in wales. glen roy, darwin visits. 'observations' on, published. work criticised by d. milne. gourmet club and its members. government aid in publication of 'zoology of voyage of "beagle".' graham, w., letter to. gray, asa, his papers on natural selection and natural theology. letters to. letter to hooker on the 'origin of species.' on the 'origin of species.' reviews the 'fertilisation of orchids.' reviews the 'variation of animals and plants.' gray, j.e., mentioned. gunther, a., letters to. gurney, e., letter to. haast, sir julius von, letter to. haeckel, e., his views on the 'origin of species.' darwin's friendship with. his work for natural selection in germany. letters to. haliburton, mrs., letters to. harvey, w.h., criticises the 'origin of species.' haughton, rev. s., criticises darwin and wallace's joint paper. henslow, j.s., his friendship with darwin. his character. letter from. letters to. presides at the oxford discussion on the 'origin of species.' his views on natural selection. his death. herbert, john maurice, darwin's friendship with. letters to. herschel, sir j., darwin's opinion of. meets darwin. heterogeny, darwin on. higginson, t.w., letter to. hildebrand, f., letters to. hippocrates anticipates darwin on pangenesis. holmgren, frithiof, letter to. holland, royal society of, elects darwin a member. holland, sir henry, his view of the 'origin of species.' homoeopathy, darwin's estimate of. honours conferred on darwin, list of. hooker, sir joseph d., darwin's friendship for. letters to. letter from. his reminiscences of darwin. on the 'origin of species.' darwin on his 'australian flora.' answers harvey. memorial on his treatment by the first commissioner of works. reviews the 'fertilisation of orchids.' hooker, sir william, mentioned. hopkins, william, reviews the 'origin of species.' hudson, darwin's reply to. humboldt, darwin's estimate of. hutton, f.w., reviews the 'origin of species.' huxley, thomas henry, mentioned. his opinion of darwin's work on 'cirripedes.' on the 'vestiges of creation.' on the 'philosophie zoologique.' on the 'principles of geology.' on the reception of the 'origin of species.' letters to. on the 'origin of species.' reviews the 'origin of species' in 'westminster review.' defends darwin before the british association. contradicts r. owen. letter from. lectures to workingmen on natural selection. asked by darwin to write a text-book on zoology. replies to the 'quarterly' reviewer on the 'descent of man.' hyatt, alpheus, letter to, on his theory of acceleration. hybrid geese, fertility of. hybridism. immortality, darwin's views upon. 'infant, biographical sketch of an.' inferiority inherited by the forms which are beaten. innes, rev. j. brodie, on darwin's interest in village affairs. on the 'origin of species' and the bible. on darwin's conscientiousness. letter to. 'insectivorous plants,' published. work on. insects, instinct of. as carriers of pollen. instinct, darwin on. islands, animals of. isolation, effect of, on the origin of species. jardine, sir w., mentioned. jeffreys, gwyn, mentioned. jenkins, fleeming, reviews the 'origin of species.' darwin on his criticisms. jenyns (blomefield), rev. leonard, mentioned. letters to. letter from. his 'observations in natural history.' jones, dr. bence, is darwin's physician. 'journal of researches,' work on. lyell's opinion of. the german translation and its reception. second edition published. dedication of. condemned in manuscript. judd, prof., his paper on 'volcanoes of the hebrides.' on darwin's desire to promote the progress of science. jukes, joseph b., mentioned. kew, 'index of plant names.' kingsley, rev c., letter from, on the 'origin of species.' koch's researches on splenic fever. darwin on. kolliker, prof., is reviewed by huxley. krause, ernst, criticises bronn's german edition of the 'origin of species.' his essay on erasmus darwin published. krohn, aug., finds mistakes in the 'origin of species.' lamarck's discussion of the species question, its insufficiency. darwin on. lane, dr., his recollections of darwin. langel reviews the 'origin of species.' lankester, e. ray, letter to. lansdowne, marquis of, anecdote of. lee, samuel, mentioned. lesquereux, leo, accepts the doctrine of natural selection. lewes, g.h., reviews the 'variation of animals and plants.' lindley, john, mentioned. linnean society obtains memorial portrait of darwin. litchfield, mrs., on darwin's style. letter to. lizards. lonsdale, william, mentioned. lowell, j.a., reviews the 'origin of species.' lubbock, sir john, letters to. on the burial of darwin. lyell, sir charles, estimate of his character as a geologist. letters to. letters from. opinion of 'coral reefs.' his views of the 'origin of species.' on the origin of species by natural causes. admission of the doctrine of natural selection. darwin on his 'antiquity of man.' falconer's reclamation from his 'antiquity of man.' darwin on his 'elements of geology.' his death. darwin's opinion of. macaulay and his memory. mcdonnell, r., his study of electrical organs in fish. mackintosh, d., his work on erratic blocks. macleay, w.s., mentioned. madeira and bermuda birds not peculiar. malay archipelago,' wallace's 'zoological geography of. mammals, descent of, from a single type. man, all races of, descended from one type. antiquity of. origin of. relationship to apes. marriages, consanguineous. marsh, o.c., letter to. masters, maxwell, letter to. matthew, patrick, anticipates the doctrine of natural selection. maw, george, reviews the 'origin of species.' medal of royal society awarded to darwin. megatherium sent down from heaven. mesmerism, darwin's estimate of. milne, d., criticises glen roy paper. mimetic modifications in plants. mivart, st. g., darwin on his 'genesis of species.' his 'genesis of species' reviewed by chauncey wright. criticised by huxley. his 'lessons from nature' reviewed in the 'academy.' modification. modifications, absence of. moggridge, j.t., letter to. mojsisovic, e. von, darwin on 'dolomit riffe.' monads, persistence of. monsters. monstrosities are sterile. morse, e.s., letter to. moseley, h.n., letters to. muller, fritz, letters to. his 'fur darwin' translated. receives offer of aid from darwin. muller, hermann, letters to. muller, max, his 'lectures on the science of language.' murray, andrew, quoted on the 'origin of species.' murray, john, letters to. music of insects. mutability of species. nageli, c., his 'entstehung und begriff der naturhistorischen art.' letter to. naples zoological station receives a present from darwin. natural history, darwin's passion for. natural selection, see selection, natural. naudin, darwin on. neumayr, melchior, letter to. nevill, lady dorothy, letter to. newton, a., letter to. reviews the 'variation of animals and plants.' new zealand, animals of. plants of. nobility, natural selection among. nomenclature of species, discussion on. norman, e., darwin's secretary. novara expedition. 'observations on parallel roads of glen roy,' published. extract from. ogle, william, letter to. 'orchids, fertilisation of,' work on. published. reviews of. second edition published. 'orchis bank' described. organs, rudimentary. 'origin of species,' first note-book of, opened. growth of the. published. its success. second edition. darwin's change of views upon. description of sketch of . huxley's view of sketch of . prof. newton's view of same. the writing of. abstract book. unorthodoxy of. faults of style. lyell on. huxley on. bishop wilberforce on. huxley's summary of reviews of. answer to lyell on. h.c. watson on. jos. d. hooker on. french translation proposed. first german edition. reviewed in the "times". first american edition. asa gray on. kingsley on. and the bible. rev. j. brodie innes on. reviewed in the 'edinburgh review.' reviewed in the 'north american review.' reviewed in the 'revue des deux mondes.' reviewed in the "new york times". reviewed in the "christian examiner". discussed by the british association. reviewed in 'quarterly review.' reviewed in the 'london review.' reviewed in the 'american journal of science and arts. bronn's criticisms of. reviewed in the 'memoirs of the american academy of arts and sciences.' answers to criticisms on. third edition. 'historical sketch of the recent progress of opinion on the.' dutch edition. first french edition. reviewed in the 'geologist.' reviewed in the 'dublin hospital gazette.' reviewed in the 'zoologist.' de candolle's view of. haeckel's view of. gen. sabine on. flourens on. second french edition. criticised by the duke of argyll. fourth edition. third german edition. russian editions of. fifth edition. reviewed in the 'north british review.' reviewed in the 'athenaeum.' third and fourth french editions. sixth edition. criticised by pusey. 'coming of age of.' ostrich, darwin discovers a new species of. ouless, w., paints darwin's portrait. owen, sir r., criticises darwin's theory. contradicted by huxley. his views on variation by descent. paley's argument of design in nature no longer good. his 'natural theology' mentioned. pampaean formation, darwin on. pangenesis, hypothesis of. opinions on. anticipated by hippocrates. parker, henry, defends the 'fertilisation of orchids.' parsons, theophilus, reviews the 'origin of species.' peacock, george, letter on appointment of naturalist to "beagle". letter from, appointing darwin to "beagle". pengelly, william, mentioned. perthes, boucher de, darwin on. petrels as agents of distribution. phillips, john, mentioned. philosophical club, its nature. 'philosophie zoologique,' huxley on. photographs, albums of, presented to darwin by german and dutch scientists. physiological society elects darwin an honorary member. pictet, francois jules, reviews the 'origin of species.' pigeons, darwin's interest in. plants, fossil. sexuality of. a recent discovery. platysma, contraction of, from shuddering. portraits of darwin, list of. potato disease, torbitt's experiments on. pour le merite, darwin admitted to order. pouter pigeon, variation in. 'power of movement in plants,' published. work on. prestwich, j., letter to. preyer, w., letter to. primogeniture, law of, darwin on. 'principles of geology,' huxley on. priority, nomenclature of species by. progression, necessary. protection, modification for. pusey's criticisms of the 'origin of species.' 'quarterly review,' recognises merits of 'journal of researches.' quatrefages, j.l.a. de, letters to. religious views of darwin, difficulties not created by science. reminiscences of darwin by hooker. revelation, darwin's disbelief in. reversion, darwin on. reymond, du bois-, letter to. richmond, w.b., paints darwin's portrait. ridley, c., letter to. rivers, t., letter to. robertson, g. croom, letter to. robertson, john, reviews the 'origin of species.' rodwell, rev. j.m., letter to. rolleston, george, his 'canons.' roman catholic church on evolution. romanes, g.j., on darwin's conscientiousness. letters to. royal college of physicians presents the baly medal to darwin. royal society of edinburgh elects darwin honorary member. royer, mlle. clemence, translates the 'origin of species.' publishes third french edition. rudimentary organs. sabine, gen., on the 'origin of species.' salter, j.w., his diagram of spirifers. 'sand-walk' described. sanderson, j. burdon, letter to. saporta, marquis de, letter to. schaaffhausen, h., claims to anticipate darwin. scott, john, darwin's estimate of. sedgwick, rev. adam, mentioned. on the 'origin of species.' his review of the 'origin of species.' criticises the 'origin of species.' on the imperfection of the geological record. seeds, vitality of. selection, natural, doctrine of, clearly conceived by darwin about . opposed to doctrine of design. effect of, on the scientific mind. and religion. small effects of, in changing species. among the nobility. huxley's lectures to workingmen on. progress of. darwin anticipated on. use of the term. effect on sterility. progress among the clergy. progress of, in germany. progress of, in france. selection, sexual, instance of, in the dogs of beyrout. semper, k., letters to. shelburne, lord, anecdote of. slavery, darwin's opinion of. in the united states. smith, sydney, inexplicably amusing. socialism and the descent of man. societies, learned, darwin's membership in. south american missionary society, darwin's connection with. species, mutability of. origin of, effect of isolation on. specific centres. spencer, herbert, letters to. prof. huxley's friendship with. darwin on. originates the term 'survival of the fittest.' his impression of 'pangenesis.' spiritism, darwin on. spontaneity, bain's theory of. sprengel, c.c., his work on the fertilisation of flowers. stanhope, lord, his parties of historians. stebbing, rev. t.r.r., letter to. stendel's 'nomenclator.' sterility, effect of natural selection on. of moths. stokes, admiral, lord, extract from letter of. stones standing on end in the southampton drift. strickland, hugh, letters to. letter from. striped horses. struggle for life. style of darwin. sublimity, where felt most by darwin. sulivan, b.j., letter to. sulivan, admiral sir james, extract from letter of. survival of the fittest, use of the term. tegetmeier, w.b., extract from letter to. teleology, evolution and. darwin's revival of. teneriffe, projected trip to. thiel, h., letter to. thomson, thomas, mentioned. thomson, sir wyville, on abyssal fauna. thorley, miss, botanical work with. thwaites, g.j.k., mentioned. tierra del fuego mission, darwin's connection with. "times", its review of the 'origin of species.' darwin on. torbitt, james, his work on the potato disease. turin, royal academy of, presents darwin the bressa prize. tylor, e.b., letter to. tyndall, john, praises the 'origin of species.' usborne, a.b., extract from a letter of. van dyck, w.t., letter to. variations in species, wallace's essay on. darwin and wallace's joint paper on. sudden. governed by design. cause of. mimetic, of butterflies. governed by design. mimetic, of plants. in colours of insects. transmission of. analogical. darwin studies the causes of. 'variation of animals and plants under domestication,' work on. publication of. reviewed in the "nation". russian edition. second edition. reviewed in the "pall mall gazette". reviewed in the "gardeners' chronicle". reviewed in the "athenaeum". reviewed in the 'zoological record.' american edition. varieties, production of. and species, collecting facts about. 'vestiges of creation' read by darwin. huxley on. vines, s.h., letter to. virchow connects the descent of man with socialism. visualising, questions and answers on the faculty of. vivisection. wagner, moritz, criticised by a. weismann. letters to. wagner, r., mentioned. wallace, a.r., sends essay to darwin. letters to. essay on variation. his 'zoological geography.' reviews the 'descent of man.' reviews mivart's 'lessons from nature.' pension granted to. defends the 'fertilisation of orchids.' watkins, archdeacon, reminiscence of darwin. letter to. watson, h.c., mentioned. on the 'origin of species.' wedgwood, josiah, his character. mentioned. letter from. wedgwood, miss julia, on erasmus darwin, in "spectator". letter to. weismann, august, letters to. wells, dr., anticipates darwin on natural selection. westminster abbey, darwin buried in. whewell, dr., mentioned. on the succession of species. whitley, c., letter to. wiesner, julius, letter to. wilberforce, bishop, criticises the 'origin of species.' william iv, coronation of. woodpecker, pampas, darwin on. woolner, t., makes a bust of darwin. discovers infolded point of the human ear. wollaston medal. wollaston's 'insecta maderensia.' his 'variation of species' referred to. works by darwin, list of. wright, chauncey, letter from. letters to. on his visit to darwin at down. yarrell, william, mentioned. zoological society, darwin visits. reads a paper at. 'zoology of the voyage of h.m.s. "beagle",' arrangement for publication. more letters of charles darwin by charles darwin a record of his work in a series of hitherto unpublished letters edited by francis darwin, fellow of christ's college, and a.c. seward, fellow of emmanuel college, cambridge in two volumes transcriber's notes: all biographical footnotes appear at the end of volume ii. all other notes by charles darwin's editors appear in the text, in brackets () with a chapter/note or letter/note number. volume i. dedicated with affection and respect, to sir joseph hooker in remembrance of his lifelong friendship with charles darwin "you will never know how much i owe to you for your constant kindness and encouragement" charles darwin to sir joseph hooker, september , preface the "life and letters of charles darwin" was published in . since that date, through the kindness of various correspondents, additional letters have been received; among them may be mentioned those written by mr. darwin to mr. belt, lady derby, hugh falconer, mr. francis galton, huxley, lyell, mr. john morley, max muller, owen, lord playfair, john scott, thwaites, sir william turner, john jenner weir. but the material for our work consisted in chief part of a mass of letters which, for want of space or for other reasons, were not printed in the "life and letters." we would draw particular attention to the correspondence with sir joseph hooker. to him mr. darwin wrote with complete freedom, and this has given something of a personal charm to the most technical of his letters. there is also much correspondence, hardly inferior in biographical interest, with sir charles lyell, fritz muller, mr. huxley, and mr. wallace. from this unused material we have been able to compile an almost complete record of mr. darwin's work in a series of letters now published for the first time. we have, however, in a few instances, repeated paragraphs, or in one or two cases whole letters, from the "life and letters," where such repetition seemed necessary for the sake of clearness or continuity. our two volumes contain practically all the matter that it now seems desirable to publish. but at some future time others may find interesting data in what remains unprinted; this is certainly true of a short series of letters dealing with the cirripedes, which are omitted solely for want of space. (preface/ . those addressed to the late albany hancock have already appeared in the "transactions of the tyneside nat. field club," viii., page .) we are fortunate in being permitted, by sir joseph hooker and by mr. wallace, to publish certain letters from them to mr. darwin. we have also been able to give a few letters from sir charles lyell, hugh falconer, edward forbes, dr. asa gray, professor hyatt, fritz muller, mr. francis galton, and sir t. lauder brunton. to the two last named, also to mrs. lyell (the biographer of sir charles), mrs. asa gray and mrs. hyatt, we desire to express our grateful acknowledgments. the present volumes have been prepared, so as to give as full an idea as possible of the course of mr. darwin's work. the volumes therefore necessarily contain many letters of a highly technical character, but none, we hope, which are not essentially interesting. with a view to saving space, we have confined ourselves to elucidating the letters by full annotations, and have for the same reason--though with some regret--omitted in most cases the beginnings and endings of the letters. for the main facts of mr. darwin's life, we refer our readers to the abstract of his private diary, given in the present volume. mr. darwin generally wrote his letters when he was tired or hurried, and this often led to the omission of words. we have usually inserted the articles, and this without any indication of their absence in the originals. where there seemed any possibility of producing an alteration of meaning (and in many cases where there is no such possibility) we have placed the introduced words in square brackets. we may say once for all that throughout the book square brackets indicate words not found in the originals. (preface/ . except in a few places where brackets are used to indicate passages previously published. in all such cases the meaning of the symbol is explained.) dots indicate omissions, but many omissions are made without being so indicated. the selection and arrangement of the letters have not been easy. our plan has been to classify the letters according to subject--into such as deal with evolution, geographical distribution, botany, etc., and in each group to place the letters chronologically. but in several of the chapters we have adopted sectional headings, which we believe will be a help to the reader. the great difficulty lay in deciding in which of the chief groups a given letter should be placed. if the ms. had been cut up into paragraphs, there would have been no such difficulty; but we feel strongly that a letter should as far as possible be treated as a whole. we have in fact allowed this principle to interfere with an accurate classification, so that the reader will find, for instance, in the chapters on evolution, questions considered which might equally well have come under geographical distribution or geology, or questions in the chapter on man which might have been placed under the heading evolution. in the same way, to avoid mutilation, we have allowed references to one branch of science to remain in letters mainly concerned with another subject. for these irregularities we must ask the reader's patience, and beg him to believe that some pains have been devoted to arrangement. mr. darwin, who was careful in other things, generally omitted the date in familiar correspondence, and it is often only by treating a letter as a detective studies a crime that we can make sure of its date. fortunately, however, sir joseph hooker and others of darwin's correspondents were accustomed to add the date on which the letters were received. this sometimes leads to an inaccuracy which needs a word of explanation. thus a letter which mr. darwin dated "wednesday" might be headed by us "wednesday [january rd, ]," the latter half being the date on which the letter was received; if it had been dated by the writer it would have been "wednesday, january nd, ." in thanking those friends--especially sir joseph hooker and mr. wallace--who have looked through some of our proof-sheets, we wish to make it clear that they are not in the smallest degree responsible for our errors or omissions; the weight of our shortcomings rests on us alone. we desire to express our gratitude to those who have so readily supplied us with information, especially to sir joseph hooker, professor judd, professor newton, dr. sharp, mr. herbert spencer, and mr. wallace. and we have pleasure in mentioning mr. h.w. rutherford, of the university library, to whose conscientious work as a copyist we are much indebted. finally, it is a pleasure to express our obligation to those who have helped us in the matter of illustrations. the portraits of dr. asa gray, mr. huxley, sir charles lyell, mr. romanes, are from their respective biographies, and for permission to make use of them we have to thank mrs. gray, mr. l. huxley, mrs. lyell, and mrs. romanes, as well as the publishers of the books in question. for the reproduction of the early portrait of mr. darwin we are indebted to miss wedgwood; for the interesting portraits of hugh falconer and edward forbes we have to thank mr. irvine smith, who obtained for us the negatives; these being of paper, and nearly sixty years old, rendered their reproduction a work of some difficulty. we also thank messrs. elliott & fry for very kindly placing at our disposal a negative of the fine portrait, which forms the frontispiece to volume ii. for the opportunity of making facsimiles of diagrams in certain of the letters, we are once more indebted to sir joseph hooker, who has most generously given the original letters to mr. darwin's family. cambridge, october, . table of contents. contents of volume i. outline of charles darwin's life, etc. chapter .i.--an autobiographical fragment, and early letters, - . chapter .ii.--evolution, - . chapter .iii.--evolution, - . chapter .iv.--evolution, - . chapter .v.--evolution, - . chapter .vi.--geographical distribution, - . illustrations in volume i. charles and catherine darwin, . from a coloured chalk drawing by sharples, in possession of miss wedgwood, of leith hill place. mrs. darwin, . from a photograph by barraud. edward forbes, (?). from a photograph by hill & adamson. thomas henry huxley, . from a photograph by maull & fox. (huxley's "life," volume i.) professor henslow. from a photograph. hugh falconer, . from a photograph by hill & adamson. joseph dalton hooker, (?). from a photograph by wallich. asa gray, . from a photograph. ("letters of asa gray," volume i.) volume ii chapter .vii.--geographical distribution, - . chapter .viii.--man, - . .viii.i. descent of man, - . .viii.ii. sexual selection, - . .viii.iii. expression, - . chapter .ix.--geology, - . .ix.i. vulcanicity and earth-movements, - . .ix.ii. ice-action, - . .ix.iii. the parallel roads of glen roy, - . .ix.iv. coral reefs, fossil and recent, - . .ix.v. cleavage and foliation, - . .ix.vi. age of the world, - . .ix.vii. geological action of earth-worms, - . .ix.viii. miscellaneous, - . chapter .x.--botany, - . .x.i. miscellaneous, - . .x.ii. melastomaceae, - . .x.iii. correspondence with john scott, - . chapter .xi.--botany, - . .xi.i. miscellaneous, - . .xi.ii. correspondence with fritz muller, - . .xi.iii. miscellaneous, - . chapter .xii.--vivisection and miscellaneous subjects, - . .xii.i. vivisection, - . .xii.ii. miscellaneous subjects, - . illustrations in volume ii. charles darwin, . from a photograph by elliott & fry. alfred russel wallace, . from a photograph by maull & fox. george j. romanes, . from a photograph by elliott & fry. (romanes' "life.") charles lyell. from a photograph by maull & fox. (lyell's "life," volume ii.) charles darwin, (?). from a photograph by maull & fox. fritz muller. from a photograph. facsimiles of sketches in the letters. figure . hypothetical section illustrating continental elevation. figure . diagram of junction between dike and lava. figure . outline of an elliptic crater. figure . hypothetical section showing the relation of dikes to volcanic vents. figure . map illustrating the linear arrangement of volcanic islands in relation to continental coast-lines. figure . sketch showing the form and distribution of quartz in a foliated rock. figure . sketch showing the arrangement of felspar and quartz in a metamorphic series. figure . floral diagram of an orchid. figure . dissected flower of habenaria chlorantha. figure . diagram of a cruciferous flower. figure . longitudinal section of a cruciferous flower. figure . transverse section of the ovary of a crucifer. figure . (contents/ . not a facsimile.) leaf of trifolium resupinatum. (drawn by miss pertz.) more letters of charles darwin. volume i. outline of charles darwin's life. based on his diary, dated august . references to the journals in which mr. darwin's papers were published will be found in his "life and letters" iii., appendix ii. we are greatly indebted to mr. c.f. cox, of new york, for calling our attention to mistakes in the appendix, and we take this opportunity of correcting them. appendix ii., list ii.--mr. romanes spoke on mr. darwin's essay on instinct at a meeting of the linnean society, december th, , and some account of it is given in "nature" of the same date. but it was not published by the linnean society. appendix ii., list iii.--"origin of saliferous deposits. salt lakes of patagonia and la plata" ( ). this is the heading of an extract from darwin's volume on south america reprinted in the "quarterly journal of the geological society," volume ii., part ii., "miscellanea," pages - , . the paper on "analogy of the structure of some volcanic rocks, etc." was published in , not in . a paper "on the fertilisation of british orchids by insect agency," in the "entomologist's weekly intelligencer" viii., and "gardeners' chronicle," june th, , should be inserted in the bibliography. . february th: born at shrewsbury. . death of his mother. . went to shrewsbury school. . left shrewsbury school. . october: went to edinburgh university. read two papers before the plinian society of edinburgh "at the close of or early in ." . entered at christ's college, cambridge. . began residence at cambridge. . january: passed his examination for b.a., and kept the two following terms. august: geological tour with sedgwick. september th: went to plymouth to see the "beagle." october nd: "took leave of my home." december th: "sailed from england on our circumnavigation." . january th: "first landed on a tropical shore" (santiago). . december th: "sailed for last time from rio plata." . june th: "sailed for last time from tierra del fuego." . september th: "sailed from west shores of south america." november th: letters to professor henslow, read at a meeting of the cambridge philosophical society. november th: paper read before the geological society on notes made during a survey of the east and west coasts of south america in years - . . may st: anchored at the cape of good hope. october nd: anchored at falmouth. october th: reached shrewsbury after an absence of five years and two days. december th: went to live at cambridge. . january th: paper on recent elevation in chili read. march th: settled at , great marlborough street. march th: paper on "rhea" read. may: read papers on coral formation, and on the pampas, to the geological society. july: opened first note-book on transmutation of species. march th to november: occupied with his journal. october and november: preparing the scheme for the zoology of the voyage of the "beagle." working at geology of south america. november st: read the paper on earthworms before the geological society. . worked at the geology of south america and zoology of voyage. "some little species theory." march th: read paper on the connexion of certain volcanic phenomena and on the formation of mountain chains, to the geological society. may: health began to break down. june rd: started for glen roy. the paper on glen roy was written in august and september. october th: began coral paper. november th: engaged to be married to his cousin, emma wedgwood. december st: "entered upper gower street." . january th: married at maer. february and march: some work on corals and on species theory. march (part) and april: working at coral paper. papers on a rock seen on an iceberg, and on the parallel roads of glen roy. published "journal and remarks," being volume iii. of the "narrative of the surveying voyages of h.m.s. 'adventure' and 'beagle,' etc." for the rest of the year, corals and zoology of the voyage. publication of the "zoology of the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle,'" part ii. (mammalia). . worked at corals and the zoology of the voyage. contributed geological introduction to part i. of the "zoology of the voyage" (fossil mammalia by owen). . publication of part iii. of the "zoology of the voyage" (birds). read paper on boulders and glacial deposits of south america, to geological society. published paper on a remarkable bar of sandstone off pernambuco, on the coast of brazil. publication of part iv. of "zoology of the voyage" (fish). . may th: last proof of the coral book corrected. june: examined glacier action in wales. "wrote pencil sketch of my species theory." july: wrote paper on glaciers of caernarvonshire. october: began his book on volcanic islands. . working at "volcanic islands" and "some species work." . february th: finished "volcanic islands." july to september: wrote an enlarged version of species theory. papers on sagitta, and on planaria. july th: began his book on the geology of south america. . paper on the analogy of the structure of volcanic rocks with that of glaciers. "proc. r. soc. edin." april th to august th: working at second edition of "naturalist's voyage." . october st: finished last proof of "geological observations on south america." papers on atlantic dust, and on geology of falkland islands, communicated to the geological society. paper on arthrobalanus. . working at cirripedes. review of waterhouse's "natural history of the mammalia." . march th: finished scientific instructions in geology for the admiralty manual. working at cirripedes. paper on erratic boulders. . health especially bad. working at cirripedes. march-june: water-cure at malvern. . working at cirripedes. published monographs of recent and fossil lepadidae. . working at cirripedes. . november th: "royal medal given to me." . published monographs on recent and on fossil balanidae and verrucidae. september th: finished packing up all my cirripedes. "began sorting notes for species theory." . march-april: experiments on the effect of salt water on seeds. papers on icebergs and on vitality of seeds. . may th: "began, by lyell's advice, writing species sketch" (described in "life and letters" as the "unfinished book"). december th: finished chapter iii. paper read to linnean society, on sea-water and the germination of seeds. . september th: finished chapters vii. and viii. september th to december th: working on hybridism. paper on the agency of bees in the fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers. . march th: "finished instinct chapter." june th: received mr. wallace's sketch of his evolutionary theory. july st: joint paper of darwin and wallace read at the linnean society. july th to july th: "began abstract of species book," i.e., the "origin of species," at sandown, i.w. paper on bees and fertilisation of flowers. . may th: began proof-sheets of the "origin of species." november th: publication of the "origin": copies printed. october nd to december th: at the water-cure establishment, ilkley, yorkshire. . january th: publication of edition ii. of "origin" ( copies). january th: "looking over ms. on variation." paper on the fertilisation of british orchids. july and again in september: made observations on drosera. paper on moths and flowers. publication of "a naturalist's voyage." . up to july at work on "variation under domestication." april th: publication of edition iii. of "origin" ( copies). july to the end of year: at work on orchids. november: primula paper read at linnean society. papers on pumilio and on fertilisation of vinca. . may th: orchid book published. working at variation. paper on catasetum (linnean society). contribution to chapter iii. of jenyns' memoir of henslow. . working at "variation under domestication." papers on yellow rain, the pampas, and on cirripedes. a review of bates' paper on mimetic butterflies. severe illness to the end of year. . illness continued until april. paper on linum published by the linnean society. may th: paper on lythrum finished. september th: paper on climbing plants finished. work on "variation under domestication." november th: copley medal awarded to him. . january st: continued at work on variation until april nd. the work was interrupted by illness until late in the autumn. february: read paper on climbing plants. december th: began again on variation. . continued work at "variation under domestication." march st to may th: at work on edition iv. of the "origin." published june ( copies). read paper on cytisus scoparius to the linnean society. december nd: began the last chapter of "variation under domestication." . november th: finished revises of "variation under domestication." december: began papers on illegitimate unions of dimorphic and trimorphic plants, and on primula. . january th: publication of "variation under domestication." february th: began work on man. february th: new edition of "variation under domestication." read papers on illegitimate unions of dimorphic and trimorphic plants, and on verbascum. . february th: "finished fifth edition of 'origin'; has taken me forty-six days." edition v. published in may. working at the "descent of man." papers on the fertilisation of orchids, and on the fertilisation of winter-flowering plants. . working at the "descent of man." paper on the pampas woodpecker. . january th: began the "expression of the emotions." february th: "descent of man" published ( copies). april th: finished the rough copy of "expression." june th: began edition vi. of "origin." paper on the fertilisation of leschenaultia. . january th: finished proofs of edition vi. of the "origin," and "again rewriting 'expression.'" august nd: finished last proofs of "expression." august rd: began working at drosera. november: "expression" published ( copies, and more printed at the end of the year.) november th: "at murray's sale copies sold to london booksellers." . january: correcting the climbing plants paper for publication as a book. february rd: at work on "cross-fertilisation." february to september: contributions to "nature." june th: "began drosera again." november th: began "descent of man," edition ii. . "descent of man," edition ii, in one volume, published (preface dated september). "coral reefs," edition ii., published. april st: began "insectivorous plants." february to may: contributed notes to "nature." . july nd: "insectivorous plants" published ( copies); copies sold immediately. july th: "correcting nd edition of 'variation under domestication.'" it was published in the autumn. september st (approximately): began on "cross and self-fertilisation." november: vivisection commission. . may th: "finished ms., first time over, of 'cross and self-fertilisation.'" may to june: correction of "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii. wrote his autobiographical sketch. may and november: contributions to "nature." august th: first proofs of "cross and self-fertilisation." november th: "cross and self-fertilisation" published ( copies). . "all the early part of summer at work on 'different forms of flowers.'" july: publication of "different forms of flowers" ( copies). during the rest of the year at work on the bloom on leaves, movements of plants, "and a little on worms." november: ll.d. at cambridge. second edition of "fertilisation of orchids" published. contributions to "nature," "gardeners' chronicle," and "mind." . the whole year at work on movements of plants, and on the bloom on leaves. may: contribution to "nature." second edition of "different forms of flowers." wrote prefatory letter to kerner's "flowers and their unbidden guests." . the whole year at work on movements of plants, except for "about six weeks" in the spring and early summer given to the "life of erasmus darwin," which was published in the autumn. contributions to "nature." . "all spring finishing ms. of 'power of movement in plants' and proof sheets." "began in autumn on worms." prefatory notice written for meldola's translation of weismann's book. november th: copies of "power of movement" sold at murray's sale. contributions to "nature." . during all the early part of the year at work on the "worm book." several contributions to "nature." october th: the book on "earthworms" published: copies sold at once. november: at work on the action of carbonate of ammonia on plants. . no entries in the diary. february: at work correcting the sixth thousand of the "earthworms." march th and march th: papers on the action of carbonate of ammonia on roots, etc., read at the linnean society. april th: note to "nature" on dispersal of bivalves. april th: van dyck's paper on syrian dogs, with a preliminary notice by charles darwin, read before the zoological society. april th: charles darwin died at down. ... charles darwin chapter .i.--an autobiographical fragment, and early letters. - . (chapter i./ . in the process of removing the remainder of mr. darwin's books and papers from down, the following autobiographical notes, written in , came to light. they seem to us worth publishing--both as giving some new facts, and also as illustrating the interest which he clearly felt in his own development. many words are omitted in the manuscript, and some names incorrectly spelled; the corrections which have been made are not always indicated.) my earliest recollection, the date of which i can approximately tell, and which must have been before i was four years old, was when sitting on caroline's (caroline darwin) knee in the drawing room, whilst she was cutting an orange for me, a cow ran by the window which made me jump, so that i received a bad cut, of which i bear the scar to this day. of this scene i recollect the place where i sat and the cause of the fright, but not the cut itself, and i think my memory is real, and not as often happens in similar cases, [derived] from hearing the thing often repeated, [when] one obtains so vivid an image, that it cannot be separated from memory: because i clearly remember which way the cow ran, which would not probably have been told me. my memory here is an obscure picture, in which from not recollecting any pain i am scarcely conscious of its reference to myself. . when i was four years and a half old i went to the sea, and stayed there some weeks. i remember many things, but with the exception of the maidservants (and these are not individualised) i recollect none of my family who were there. i remember either myself or catherine being naughty, and being shut up in a room and trying to break the windows. i have an obscure picture of a house before my eyes, and of a neighbouring small shop, where the owner gave me one fig, but which to my great joy turned out to be two: this fig was given me that the man might kiss the maidservant. i remember a common walk to a kind of well, on the road to which was a cottage shaded with damascene (chapter i./ . damson is derived from damascene; the fruit was formerly known as a "damask prune.") trees, inhabited by an old man, called a hermit, with white hair, who used to give us damascenes. i know not whether the damascenes, or the reverence and indistinct fear for this old man produced the greatest effect on my memory. i remember when going there crossing in the carriage a broad ford, and fear and astonishment of white foaming water has made a vivid impression. i think memory of events commences abruptly; that is, i remember these earliest things quite as clearly as others very much later in life, which were equally impressed on me. some very early recollections are connected with fear at parkfield and with poor betty harvey. i remember with horror her story of people being pushed into the canal by the towing rope, by going the wrong side of the horse. i had the greatest horror of this story--keen instinct against death. some other recollections are those of vanity--namely, thinking that people were admiring me, in one instance for perseverance and another for boldness in climbing a low tree, and what is odder, a consciousness, as if instinctive, that i was vain, and contempt of myself. my supposed admirer was old peter haile the bricklayer, and the tree the mountain ash on the lawn. all my recollections seem to be connected most closely with myself; now catherine (catherine darwin) seems to recollect scenes where others were the chief actors. when my mother died i was / years old, and [catherine] one year less, yet she remembers all particulars and events of each day whilst i scarcely recollect anything (and so with very many other cases) except being sent for, the memory of going into her room, my father meeting me--crying afterwards. i recollect my mother's gown and scarcely anything of her appearance, except one or two walks with her. i have no distinct remembrance of any conversation, and those only of a very trivial nature. i remember her saying "if she did ask me to do something," which i said she had, "it was solely for my good." catherine remembers my mother crying, when she heard of my grandmother's death. also when at parkfield how aunt sarah and aunt kitty used to receive her. susan, like me, only remembers affairs personal. it is sufficiently odd this [difference] in subjects remembered. catherine says she does not remember the impression made upon her by external things, as scenery, but for things which she reads she has an excellent memory, i.e., for ideas. now her sympathy being ideal, it is part of her character, and shows how easily her kind of memory was stamped, a vivid thought is repeated, a vivid impression forgotten. i remember obscurely the illumination after the battle of waterloo, and the militia exercising about that period, in the field opposite our house. . at / years old i went to mr. case's school. (chapter i/ . a day-school at shrewsbury kept by rev. g. case, minister of the unitarian chapel ("life and letters," volume i., page et seq.)) i remember how very much i was afraid of meeting the dogs in barker street, and how at school i could not get up my courage to fight. i was very timid by nature. i remember i took great delight at school in fishing for newts in the quarry pool. i had thus young formed a strong taste for collecting, chiefly seals, franks, etc., but also pebbles and minerals--one which was given me by some boy decided this taste. i believe shortly after this, or before, i had smattered in botany, and certainly when at mr. case's school i was very fond of gardening, and invented some great falsehoods about being able to colour crocuses as i liked. (chapter i./ . the story is given in the "life and letters," i., page , the details being slightly different.) at this time i felt very strong friendship for some boys. it was soon after i began collecting stones, i.e., when or , that i distinctly recollect the desire i had of being able to know something about every pebble in front of the hall door--it was my earliest and only geological aspiration at that time. i was in those days a very great story-teller--for the pure pleasure of exciting attention and surprise. i stole fruit and hid it for these same motives, and injured trees by barking them for similar ends. i scarcely ever went out walking without saying i had seen a pheasant or some strange bird (natural history taste); these lies, when not detected, i presume, excited my attention, as i recollect them vividly, not connected with shame, though some i do, but as something which by having produced a great effect on my mind, gave pleasure like a tragedy. i recollect when i was at mr. case's inventing a whole fabric to show how fond i was of speaking the truth! my invention is still so vivid in my mind, that i could almost fancy it was true, did not memory of former shame tell me it was false. i have no particularly happy or unhappy recollections of this time or earlier periods of my life. i remember well a walk i took with a boy named ford across some fields to a farmhouse on the church stretton road. i do not remember any mental pursuits excepting those of collecting stones, etc., gardening, and about this time often going with my father in his carriage, telling him of my lessons, and seeing game and other wild birds, which was a great delight to me. i was born a naturalist. when i was / years old (july ) i went with erasmus to see liverpool: it has left no impressions on my mind, except most trifling ones--fear of the coach upsetting, a good dinner, and an extremely vague memory of ships. in midsummer of this year i went to dr. butler's school. (chapter i./ . darwin entered dr. butler's school in shrewsbury in the summer of , and remained there till ("life and letters," i., page ).) i well recollect the first going there, which oddly enough i cannot of going to mr. case's, the first school of all. i remember the year well, not from having first gone to a public school, but from writing those figures in my school book, accompanied with obscure thoughts, now fulfilled, whether i should recollect in future life that year. in september ( ) i was ill with the scarlet fever. i well remember the wretched feeling of being delirious. , july ( / years old). went to the sea at plas edwards and stayed there three weeks, which now appears to me like three months. (chapter i./ . plas edwards, at towyn, on the welsh coast.) i remember a certain shady green road (where i saw a snake) and a waterfall, with a degree of pleasure, which must be connected with the pleasure from scenery, though not directly recognised as such. the sandy plain before the house has left a strong impression, which is obscurely connected with an indistinct remembrance of curious insects, probably a cimex mottled with red, and zygaena, the burnet-moth. i was at that time very passionate (when i swore like a trooper) and quarrelsome. the former passion has i think nearly wholly but slowly died away. when journeying there by stage coach i remember a recruiting officer (i think i should know his face to this day) at tea time, asking the maid-servant for toasted bread and butter. i was convulsed with laughter and thought it the quaintest and wittiest speech that ever passed from the mouth of man. such is wit at / years old. the memory now flashes across me of the pleasure i had in the evening on a blowy day walking along the beach by myself and seeing the gulls and cormorants wending their way home in a wild and irregular course. such poetic pleasures, felt so keenly in after years, i should not have expected so early in life. , july. went a riding tour (on old dobbin) with erasmus to pistyll rhiadr (chapter i./ . pistyll rhiadr proceeds from llyn pen rhiadr down the llyfnant to the dovey.); of this i recollect little, an indistinct picture of the fall, but i well remember my astonishment on hearing that fishes could jump up it. (chapter i./ . the autobiographical fragment here comes to an end. the next letters give some account of darwin as an edinburgh student. he has described ("life and letters," i., pages - ) his failure to be interested in the official teaching of the university, his horror at the operating theatre, and his gradually increasing dislike of medical study, which finally determined his leaving edinburgh, and entering cambridge with a view to taking orders.) letter . to r.w. darwin. sunday morning [edinburgh, october, ]. my dear father as i suppose erasmus (erasmus darwin) has given all the particulars of the journey, i will say no more about it, except that altogether it has cost me pounds. we got into our lodgings yesterday evening, which are very comfortable and near the college. our landlady, by name mrs. mackay, is a nice clean old body--exceedingly civil and attentive. she lives in " , lothian street, edinburgh" ( / . in a letter printed in the "edinburgh evening despatch" of may nd, , the writer suggested that a tablet should be placed on the house, , lothian street. this suggestion was carried out in by mr. ralph richardson (clerk of the commissary court, edinburgh), who obtained permission from the proprietors to affix a tablet to the house, setting forth that charles darwin resided there as an edinburgh university student. we are indebted to mr. w.k. dickson for obtaining for us this information, and to mr. ralph richardson for kindly supplying us with particulars. see mr. richardson's inaugural address, "trans. edinb. geol. soc." - ; also "memorable edinburgh houses," by wilmot harrison, .), and only four flights of steps from the ground-floor, which is very moderate to some other lodgings that we were nearly taking. the terms are pound shillings for two very nice and light bedrooms and a sitting-room; by the way, light bedrooms are very scarce articles in edinburgh, since most of them are little holes in which there is neither air nor light. we called on dr. hanley the first morning, whom i think we never should have found, had it not been for a good-natured dr. of divinity who took us into his library and showed us a map, and gave us directions how to find him. indeed, all the scotchmen are so civil and attentive, that it is enough to make an englishman ashamed of himself. i should think dr. butler or any other fat english divine would take two utter strangers into his library and show them the way! when at last we found the doctor, and having made all the proper speeches on both sides, we all three set out and walked all about the town, which we admire excessively; indeed bridge street is the most extraordinary thing i ever saw, and when we first looked over the sides, we could hardly believe our eyes, when instead of a fine river, we saw a stream of people. we spend all our mornings in promenading about the town, which we know pretty well, and in the evenings we go to the play to hear miss stephens (probably catherine stephens), which is quite delightful; she is very popular here, being encored to such a degree, that she can hardly get on with the play. on monday we are going to der f (i do not know how to spell the rest of the word). ( / . "der f" is doubtless "der freischutz," which appeared in , and of which a selection was given in london, under weber's direction, in . the last of weber's compositions, "from chindara's warbling fount," was written for miss stephens, who sang it to his accompaniment "the last time his fingers touched the key-board." (see "dict. of music," "stephens" and "weber.")) before we got into our lodgings, we were staying at the star hotel in princes st., where to my surprise i met with an old schoolfellow, whom i like very much; he is just come back from a walking tour in switzerland and is now going to study for his [degree?] the introductory lectures begin next wednesday, and we were matriculated for them on saturday; we pay s., and write our names in a book, and the ceremony is finished; but the library is not free to us till we get a ticket from a professor. we just have been to church and heard a sermon of only minutes. i expected, from sir walter scott's account, a soul-cutting discourse of hours and a half. i remain your affectionate son, c. darwin. letter . to caroline darwin. january th, . edinburgh. many thanks for your very entertaining letter, which was a great relief after hearing a long stupid lecture from duncan on materia medica, but as you know nothing either of the lectures or lecturers, i will give you a short account of them. dr. duncan is so very learned that his wisdom has left no room for his sense, and he lectures, as i have already said, on the materia medica, which cannot be translated into any word expressive enough of its stupidity. these few last mornings, however, he has shown signs of improvement, and i hope he will "go on as well as can be expected." his lectures begin at eight in the morning. dr. hope begins at ten o'clock, and i like both him and his lectures very much (after which erasmus goes to "mr. sizars on anatomy," who is a charming lecturer). at the hospital, after which i attend monro on anatomy. i dislike him and his lectures so much, that i cannot speak with decency about them. thrice a week we have what is called clinical lectures, which means lectures on the sick people in the hospital--these i like very much. i said this account should be short, but i am afraid it has been too long, like the lectures themselves. i will be a good boy and tell something about johnson again (not but what i am very much surprised that papa should so forget himself as call me, a collegian in the university of edinburgh, a boy). he has changed his lodgings for the third time; he has got very cheap ones, but i am afraid it will not answer, for they must make up by cheating. i hope you like erasmus' official news, he means to begin every letter so. you mentioned in your letter that emma was staying with you: if she is not gone, ask her to tell jos that i have not succeeded in getting any titanium, but that i will try again...i want to know how old i shall be next birthday--i believe , and if so, i shall be forced to go abroad for one year, since it is necessary that i shall have completed my st year before i take my degree. now you have no business to be frowning and puzzling over this letter, for i did not promise to write a good hand to you. letter . to j.s. henslow. ( / . extracts from darwin's letters to henslow were read before the cambridge philosophical society on november th, . some of the letters were subsequently printed, in an vo pamphlet of pages, dated december st, , for private distribution among the members of the society. a german translation by w. preyer appeared in the "deutsche rundschau," june .) [ th august, . monte video.] we are now beating up the rio plata, and i take the opportunity of beginning a letter to you. i did not send off the specimens from rio janeiro, as i grudged the time it would take to pack them up. they are now ready to be sent off and most probably go by this packet. if so they go to falmouth (where fitz-roy has made arrangements) and so will not trouble your brother's agent in london. when i left england i was not fully aware how essential a kindness you offered me when you undertook to receive my boxes. i do not know what i should do without such head-quarters. and now for an apologetical prose about my collection: i am afraid you will say it is very small, but i have not been idle, and you must recollect what a very small show hundreds of species make. the box contains a good many geological specimens; i am well aware that the greater number are too small. but i maintain that no person has a right to accuse me, till he has tried carrying rocks under a tropical sun. i have endeavoured to get specimens of every variety of rock, and have written notes upon all. if you think it worth your while to examine any of them i shall be very glad of some mineralogical information, especially on any numbers between and which include santiago rocks. by my catalogue i shall know which you may refer to. as for my plants, "pudet pigetque mihi." all i can say is that when objects are present which i can observe and particularise about, i cannot summon resolution to collect when i know nothing. it is positively distressing to walk in the glorious forest amidst such treasures and feel they are all thrown away upon one. my collection from the abrolhos is interesting, as i suspect it nearly contains the whole flowering vegetation--and indeed from extreme sterility the same may almost be said of santiago. i have sent home four bottles with animals in spirits, i have three more, but would not send them till i had a fourth. i shall be anxious to hear how they fare. i made an enormous collection of arachnidae at rio, also a good many small beetles in pill boxes, but it is not the best time of year for the latter. amongst the lower animals nothing has so much interested me as finding two species of elegantly coloured true planaria inhabiting the dewy forest! the false relation they bear to snails is the most extraordinary thing of the kind i have ever seen. in the same genus (or more truly family) some of the marine species possess an organisation so marvellous that i can scarcely credit my eyesight. every one has heard of the discoloured streaks of water in the equatorial regions. one i examined was owing to the presence of such minute oscillariae that in each square inch of surface there must have been at least one hundred thousand present. after this i had better be silent, for you will think me a baron munchausen amongst naturalists. most assuredly i might collect a far greater number of specimens of invertebrate animals if i took less time over each; but i have come to the conclusion that two animals with their original colour and shape noted down will be more valuable to naturalists than six with only dates and place. i hope you will send me your criticisms about my collection; and it will be my endeavour that nothing you say shall be lost on me. i would send home my writings with my specimens, only i find i have so repeatedly occasion to refer back that it would be a serious loss to me. i cannot conclude about my collection without adding that i implicitly trust in your keeping an exact account against all the expense of boxes, etc., etc. at this present minute we are at anchor in the mouth of the river, and such a strange scene as it is. everything is in flames--the sky with lightning, the water with luminous particles, and even the very masts are pointed with a blue flame. i expect great interest in scouring over the plains of monte video, yet i look back with regret to the tropics, that magic lure to all naturalists. the delight of sitting on a decaying trunk amidst the quiet gloom of the forest is unspeakable and never to be forgotten. how often have i then wished for you. when i see a banana i well recollect admiring them with you in cambridge--little did i then think how soon i should eat their fruit. august th. in a few days the box will go by the "emulous" packet (capt. cooke) to falmouth and will be forwarded to you. this letter goes the same way, so that if in course of due time you do not receive the box, will you be kind enough to write to falmouth? we have been here (monte video) for some time; but owing to bad weather and continual fighting on shore, we have scarcely ever been able to walk in the country. i have collected during the last month nothing, but to-day i have been out and returned like noah's ark with animals of all sorts. i have to-day to my astonishment found two planariae living under dry stones: ask l. jenyns if he has ever heard of this fact. i also found a most curious snail, and spiders, beetles, snakes, scorpions ad libitum, and to conclude shot a cavia weighing a cwt.--on friday we sail for the rio negro, and then will commence our real wild work. i look forward with dread to the wet stormy regions of the south, but after so much pleasure i must put up with some sea-sickness and misery. letter . to j.s. henslow. monte video, th november . we arrived here on the th of october, after our first cruise on the coast of patagonia. north of the rio negro we fell in with some little schooners employed in sealing: to save the loss of time in surveying the intricate mass of banks, capt. fitz-roy has hired two of them and has put officers on them. it took us nearly a month fitting them out; as soon as this was finished we came back here, and are now preparing for a long cruise to the south. i expect to find the wild mountainous country of terra del fuego very interesting, and after the coast of patagonia i shall thoroughly enjoy it.--i had hoped for the credit of dame nature, no such country as this last existed; in sad reality we coasted along miles of sand hillocks; i never knew before, what a horrid ugly object a sand hillock is. the famed country of the rio plata in my opinion is not much better: an enormous brackish river, bounded by an interminable green plain is enough to make any naturalist groan. so hurrah for cape horn and the land of storms. now that i have had my growl out, which is a privilege sailors take on all occasions, i will turn the tables and give an account of my doing in nat. history. i must have one more growl: by ill luck the french government has sent one of its collectors to the rio negro, where he has been working for the last six months, and is now gone round the horn. so that i am very selfishly afraid he will get the cream of all the good things before me. as i have nobody to talk to about my luck and ill luck in collecting, i am determined to vent it all upon you. i have been very lucky with fossil bones; i have fragments of at least distinct animals: as many of them are teeth, i trust, shattered and rolled as they have been, they will be recognised. i have paid all the attention i am capable of to their geological site; but of course it is too long a story for here. st, i have the tarsi and metatarsi very perfect of a cavia; nd, the upper jaw and head of some very large animal with four square hollow molars and the head greatly protruded in front. i at first thought it belonged either to the megalonyx or megatherium ( / ). the animal may probably have been grypotherium darwini, ow. the osseous plates mentioned below must have belonged to one of the glyptodontidae, and not to megatherium. we are indebted to mr. kerr for calling our attention to a passage in buckland's "bridgewater treatise" (volume ii., page , note), where bony armour is ascribed to megatherium.); in confirmation of this in the same formation i found a large surface of the osseous polygonal plates, which "late observations" (what are they?) show belong to the megatherium. immediately i saw this i thought they must belong to an enormous armadillo, living species of which genus are so abundant here. rd, the lower jaw of some large animal which, from the molar teeth, i should think belonged to the edentata; th, some large molar teeth which in some respects would seem to belong to an enormous rodent; th, also some smaller teeth belonging to the same order. if it interests you sufficiently to unpack them, i shall be very curious to hear something about them. care must be taken in this case not to confuse the tallies. they are mingled with marine shells which appear to me identical with what now exist. but since they were deposited in their beds several geological changes have taken place in the country. so much for the dead, and now for the living: there is a poor specimen of a bird which to my unornithological eyes appears to be a happy mixture of a lark, pigeon and snipe (no. ). mr. macleay himself never imagined such an inosculating creature: i suppose it will turn out to be some well-known bird, although it has quite baffled me. i have taken some interesting amphibia; a new trigonocephalus beautifully connecting in its habits crotalus and the viperidae, and plenty of new (as far as my knowledge goes) saurians. as for one little toad, i hope it may be new, that it may be christened "diabolicus." milton must allude to this very individual when he talks of "squat like a toad" ( / . "...him [satan] there they [ithuriel and zephon] found, squat like a toad, close at the ear of eve" ("paradise lost," book iv., line ). "formerly milton's "paradise lost" had been my chief favourite, and in my excursions during the voyage of the 'beagle,' when i could take only a single volume, i always chose milton" ("autobiography," page ).); its colours are by werner ( / . werner's "nomenclature of colours," edinburgh, .) ink black, vermilion red and buff orange. it has been a splendid cruise for me in nat. history. amongst the pelagic crustacea, some new and curious genera. in the zoophytes some interesting animals. as for one flustra, if i had not the specimen to back me up nobody would believe in its most anomalous structure. but as for novelty all this is nothing to a family of pelagic animals which at first sight appear like medusae but are really highly organised. i have examined them repeatedly, and certainly from their structure it would be impossible to place them in any existing order. perhaps salpa is the nearest animal, although the transparency of the body is nearly the only character they have in common. i think the dried plants nearly contain all which were then (bahia blanca) flowering. all the specimens will be packed in casks. i think there will be three (before sending this letter i will specify dates, etc., etc.). i am afraid you will groan or rather the floor of the lecture room will when the casks arrive. without you i should be utterly undone. the small cask contains fish: will you open it to see how the spirit has stood the evaporation of the tropics. on board the ship everything goes on as well as possible; the only drawback is the fearful length of time between this and the day of our return. i do not see any limits to it. one year is nearly completed and the second will be so, before we even leave the east coast of s. america. and then our voyage may be said really to have commenced. i know not how i shall be able to endure it. the frequency with which i think of all the happy hours i have spent at shrewsbury and cambridge is rather ominous--i trust everything to time and fate and will feel my way as i go on. november th.--we have been at buenos ayres for a week; it is a fine large city, but such a country, everything is mud, you can go nowhere, you can do nothing for mud. in the city i obtained much information about the banks of the uruguay--i hear of limestone with shells, and beds of shells in every direction. i hope when we winter in the plata to have a most interesting geological excursion into that country: i purchased fragments (nos. - ) of some enormous bones, which i was assured belonged to the former giants!! i also procured some seeds--i do not know whether they are worth your accepting; if you think so i will get some more. they are in the box. i have sent to you by the "duke of york" packet, commanded by lieut. snell, to falmouth two large casks containing fossil bones, a small cask with fish and a box containing skins, spirit bottle, etc., and pill-boxes with beetles. would you be kind enough to open these latter as they are apt to become mouldy. with the exception of the bones the rest of my collection looks very scanty. recollect how great a proportion of time is spent at sea. i am always anxious to hear in what state the things come and any criticisms about quantity or kind of specimens. in the smaller cask is part of a large head, the anterior portions of which are in the other large one. the packet has arrived and i am in a great bustle. you will not hear from me for some months. letter . to j.s. henslow. valparaiso, july th . a box has just arrived in which were two of your most kind and affectionate letters. you do not know how happy they have made me. one is dated december th, , the other january th of the same year! by what fatality it did not arrive sooner i cannot conjecture; i regret it much, for it contains the information i most wanted, about manner of packing, etc., etc.: roots with specimens of plants, etc., etc. this i suppose was written after the reception of my first cargo of specimens. not having heard from you until march of this year i really began to think that my collections were so poor, that you were puzzled what to say; the case is now quite on the opposite tack; for you are guilty of exciting all my vain feelings to a most comfortable pitch; if hard work will atone for these thoughts, i vow it shall not be spared. it is rather late, but i will allude to some remarks in the january letter; you advise me to send home duplicates of my notes; i have been aware of the advantage of doing so; but then at sea to this day, i am invariably sick, excepting on the finest days, at which times with pelagic animals around me, i could never bring myself to the task--on shore the most prudent person could hardly expect such a sacrifice of time. my notes are becoming bulky. i have about small quarto pages full; about half of this is geology--the other imperfect descriptions of animals; with the latter i make it a rule only to describe those parts or facts, which cannot be seen in specimens in spirits. i keep my private journal distinct from the above. (n.b. this letter is a most untidy one, but my mind is untidy with joy; it is your fault, so you must take the consequences.) with respect to the land planariae, unquestionably they are not molluscous animals. i read your letters last night, this morning i took a little walk; by a curious coincidence, i found a new white species of planaria, and a new to me vaginulus (third species which i have found in s. america) of cuvier. amongst the marine mollusques i have seen a good many genera, and at rio found one quite new one. with respect to the december letter, i am very glad to hear the four casks arrived safe; since which time you have received another cargo, with the bird skins about which you did not understand me. have any of the b. ayrean seeds produced plants? from the falklands i acknowledged a box and letter from you; with the letter were a few seeds from patagonia. at present i have specimens enough to make a heavy cargo, but shall wait as much longer as possible, because opportunities are not now so good as before. i have just got scent of some fossil bones of a mammoth; what they may be i do not know, but if gold or galloping will get them they shall be mine. you tell me you like hearing how i am going on and what doing, and you well may imagine how much i enjoy speaking to any one upon subjects which i am always thinking about, but never have any one to talk to [about]. after leaving the falklands we proceeded to the rio s. cruz, following up the river till within twenty miles of the cordilleras. unfortunately want of provisions compelled us to return. this expedition was most important to me as it was a transverse section of the great patagonian formation. i conjecture (an accurate examination of fossils may possibly determine the point) that the main bed is somewhere about the miocene period (using mr. lyell's expression); i judge from what i have seen of the present shells of patagonia. this bed contains an enormous field of lava. this is of some interest, as being a rude approximation to the age of the volcanic part of the great range of the andes. long before this it existed as a slate and porphyritic line of hills. i have collected a tolerable quantity of information respecting the period and forms of elevations of these plains. i think these will be interesting to mr. lyell; i had deferred reading his third volume till my return: you may guess how much pleasure it gave me; some of his woodcuts came so exactly into play that i have only to refer to them instead of redrawing similar ones. i had my barometer with me, i only wish i had used it more in these plains. the valley of s. cruz appears to me a very curious one; at first it quite baffled me. i believe i can show good reasons for supposing it to have been once a northern straits like to that of magellan. when i return to england you will have some hard work in winnowing my geology; what little i know i have learnt in such a curious fashion that i often feel very doubtful about the number of grains [of value?]. whatever number they may turn out, i have enjoyed extreme pleasure in collecting them. in t. del fuego i collected and examined some corallines; i have observed one fact which quite startled me: it is that in the genus sertularia (taken in its most restricted form as [used] by lamoureux) and in two species which, excluding comparative expressions, i should find much difficulty in describing as different, the polypi quite and essentially differed in all their most important and evident parts of structure. i have already seen enough to be convinced that the present families of corallines as arranged by lamarck, cuvier, etc., are highly artificial. it appears that they are in the same state [in] which shells were when linnaeus left them for cuvier to rearrange. i do so wish i was a better hand at dissecting, i find i can do very little in the minute parts of structure; i am forced to take a very rough examination as a type for different classes of structure. it is most extraordinary i can nowhere see in my books one single description of the polypus of any one coralline excepting alcyonium lobularia of savigny. i found a curious little stony cellaria ( / . cellaria, a genus of bryozoa, placed in the section flustrina of the suborder chilostomata.) (a new genus) each cell provided with long toothed bristle, these are capable of various and rapid motions. this motion is often simultaneous, and can be produced by irritation. this fact, as far as i can see, is quite isolated in the history of zoophytes (excepting the flustra with an organ like a vulture's head); it points out a much more intimate relation between the polypi than lamarck is willing to allow. i forgot whether i mentioned having seen something of the manner of propagation in that most ambiguous family, the corallines; i feel pretty well convinced if they are not plants they are not zoophytes. the "gemmule" of a halimeda contained several articulations united, ready to burst their envelope, and become attached to some basis. i believe in zoophytes universally the gemmule produces a single polypus, which afterwards or at the same time grows with its cell or single articulation. the "beagle" left the sts. of magellan in the middle of winter; she found her road out by a wild unfrequented channel; well might sir j. narborough call the west coast south desolation, "because it is so desolate a land to behold." we were driven into chiloe by some very bad weather. an englishman gave me three specimens of that very fine lucanoidal insect which is described in the "camb. phil. trans." ( / . "description of chiasognathus grantii, a new lucanideous insect, etc." by j.f. stephens ("trans. camb. phil. soc." volume iv., page , .)), two males and one female. i find chiloe is composed of lava and recent deposits. the lavas are curious from abounding in, or rather being in parts composed of pitchstone. if we go to chiloe in the summer, i shall reap an entomological harvest. i suppose the botany both there and in chili is well-known. i forgot to state that in the four cargoes of specimens there have been sent three square boxes, each containing four glass bottles. i mention this in case they should be stowed beneath geological specimens and thus escape your notice, perhaps some spirit may be wanted in them. if a box arrives from b. ayres with a megatherium head the other unnumbered specimens, be kind enough to tell me, as i have strong fears for its safety. we arrived here the day before yesterday; the views of the distant mountains are most sublime and the climate delightful; after our long cruise in the damp gloomy climates of the south, to breathe a clear dry air and feel honest warm sunshine, and eat good fresh roast beef must be the summum bonum of human life. i do not like the look of the rocks half so much as the beef, there is too much of those rather insipid ingredients, mica, quartz and feldspar. our plans are at present undecided; there is a good deal of work to the south of valparaiso and to the north an indefinite quantity. i look forward to every part with interest. i have sent you in this letter a sad dose of egotism, but recollect i look up to you as my father in natural history, and a son may talk about himself to his father. in your paternal capacity as proproctor what a great deal of trouble you appear to have had. how turbulent cambridge is become. before this time it will have regained its tranquillity. i have a most schoolboy-like wish to be there, enjoying my holidays. it is a most comfortable reflection to me, that a ship being made of wood and iron, cannot last for ever, and therefore this voyage must have an end. october th. this letter has been lying in my portfolio ever since july; i did not send it away because i did not think it worth the postage; it shall now go with a box of specimens. shortly after arriving here i set out on a geological excursion, and had a very pleasant ramble about the base of the andes. the whole country appears composed of breccias (and i imagine slates) which universally have been modified and oftentimes completely altered by the action of fire. the varieties of porphyry thus produced are endless, but nowhere have i yet met with rocks which have flowed in a stream; dykes of greenstone are very numerous. modern volcanic action is entirely shut up in the very central parts (which cannot now be reached on account of the snow) of the cordilleras. in the south of the r. maypu i examined the tertiary plains, already partially described by m. gay. ( / . "rapport fait a l'academie royale des sciences, sur les travaux geologiques de m. gay," by alex. brongniart ("ann. sci. nat." volume xxviii., page , .) the fossil shells appear to me to be far more different from the recent ones than in the great patagonian formation; it will be curious if an eocene and miocene (recent there is abundance of) could be proved to exist in s. america as well as in europe. i have been much interested by finding abundance of recent shells at an elevation of , feet; the country in many places is scattered over with shells but these are all littoral ones. so that i suppose the , feet elevation must be owing to a succession of small elevations such as in . with these certain proofs of the recent residence of the ocean over all the lower parts of chili, the outline of every view and the form of each valley possesses a high interest. has the action of running water or the sea formed this deep ravine? was a question which often arose in my mind and generally was answered by finding a bed of recent shells at the bottom. i have not sufficient arguments, but i do not believe that more than a small fraction of the height of the andes has been formed within the tertiary period. the conclusion of my excursion was very unfortunate, i became unwell and could hardly reach this place. i have been in bed for the last month, but am now rapidly getting well. i had hoped during this time to have made a good collection of insects but it has been impossible: i regret the less because chiloe fairly swarms with collectors; there are more naturalists in the country, than carpenters or shoemakers or any other honest trade. in my letter from the falkland islands i said i had fears about a box with a megatherium. i have since heard from b. ayres that it went to liverpool by the brig "basingwaithe." if you have not received it, it is i think worth taking some trouble about. in october two casks and a jar were sent by h.m.s. "samarang" via portsmouth. i have no doubt you have received them. with this letter i send a good many bird skins; in the same box with them, there is a paper parcel containing pill boxes with insects. the other pill boxes require no particular care. you will see in two of these boxes some dried planariae (terrestrial), the only method i have found of preserving them (they are exceedingly brittle). by examining the white species i understand some little of the internal structure. there are two small parcels of seeds. there are some plants which i hope may interest you, or at least those from patagonia where i collected every one in flower. there is a bottle clumsily but i think securely corked containing water and gas from the hot baths of cauquenes seated at foot of andes and long celebrated for medicinal properties. i took pains in filling and securing both water and gas. if you can find any one who likes to analyze them, i should think it would be worth the trouble. i have not time at present to copy my few observations about the locality, etc., etc., [of] these springs. will you tell me how the arachnidae which i have sent home, for instance those from rio, appear to be preserved. i have doubts whether it is worth while collecting them. we sail the day after to-morrow: our plans are at last limited and definite; i am delighted to say we have bid an eternal adieu to t. del fuego. the "beagle" will not proceed further south than c. tres montes; from which point we survey to the north. the chonos archipelago is delightfully unknown: fine deep inlets running into the cordilleras--where we can steer by the light of a volcano. i do not know which part of the voyage now offers the most attractions. this is a shamefully untidy letter, but you must forgive me. letter . to j.s. henslow. april th, . valparaiso. i have just returned from mendoza, having crossed the cordilleras by two passes. this trip has added much to my knowledge of the geology of the country. some of the facts, of the truth of which i in my own mind feel fully convinced, will appear to you quite absurd and incredible. i will give a very short sketch of the structure of these huge mountains. in the portillo pass (the more southern one) travellers have described the cordilleras to consist of a double chain of nearly equal altitude separated by a considerable interval. this is the case; and the same structure extends to the northward to uspallata; the little elevation of the eastern line (here not more than , - , feet.) has caused it almost to be overlooked. to begin with the western and principal chain, we have, where the sections are best seen, an enormous mass of a porphyritic conglomerate resting on granite. this latter rock seems to form the nucleus of the whole mass, and is seen in the deep lateral valleys, injected amongst, upheaving, overturning in the most extraordinary manner, the overlying strata. the stratification in all the mountains is beautifully distinct and from a variety in the colour can be seen at great distances. i cannot imagine any part of the world presenting a more extraordinary scene of the breaking up of the crust of the globe than the very central parts of the andes. the upheaval has taken place by a great number of (nearly) n. and s. lines; which in most cases have formed as many anticlinal and synclinal ravines; the strata in the highest pinnacles are almost universally inclined at an angle from deg to deg. i cannot tell you how i enjoyed some of these views--it is worth coming from england, once to feel such intense delight; at an elevation from to , feet there is a transparency in the air, and a confusion of distances and a sort of stillness which gives the sensation of being in another world, and when to this is joined the picture so plainly drawn of the great epochs of violence, it causes in the mind a most strange assemblage of ideas. the formation i call porphyritic conglomerates is the most important and most developed one in chili: from a great number of sections i find it a true coarse conglomerate or breccia, which by every step in a slow gradation passes into a fine claystone-porphyry; the pebbles and cement becoming porphyritic till at last all is blended in one compact rock. the porphyries are excessively abundant in this chain. i feel sure at least / ths of them have been thus produced from sedimentary beds in situ. there are porphyries which have been injected from below amongst strata, and others ejected, which have flowed in streams; it is remarkable, and i could show specimens of this rock produced in these three methods, which cannot be distinguished. it is a great mistake considering the cordilleras here as composed of rocks which have flowed in streams. in this range i nowhere saw a fragment, which i believe to have thus originated, although the road passes at no great distance from the active volcanoes. the porphyries, conglomerate, sandstone and quartzose sandstone and limestones alternate and pass into each other many times, overlying (where not broken through by the granite) clay-slate. in the upper parts, the sandstone begins to alternate with gypsum, till at last we have this substance of a stupendous thickness. i really think the formation is in some places (it varies much) nearly , feet thick, it occurs often with a green (epidote?) siliceous sandstone and snow-white marble; it resembles that found in the alps in containing large concretions of a crystalline marble of a blackish grey colour. the upper beds which form some of the higher pinnacles consist of layers of snow-white gypsum and red compact sandstone, from the thickness of paper to a few feet, alternating in an endless round. the rock has a most curiously painted appearance. at the pass of the peuquenes in this formation, where however a black rock like clay-slate, without many laminae, occurring with a pale limestone, has replaced the red sandstone, i found abundant impressions of shells. the elevation must be between and , feet. a shell which i believe is the gryphaea is the most abundant--an ostrea, turratella, ammonites, small bivalves, terebratulae (?). perhaps some good conchologist ( / . some of these genera are mentioned by darwin ("geol. obs." page ) as having been named for him by m. d'orbigny.) will be able to give a guess, to what grand division of the formations of europe these organic remains bear most resemblance. they are exceedingly imperfect and few. it was late in the season and the situation particularly dangerous for snow-storms. i did not dare to delay, otherwise a grand harvest might have been reaped. so much for the western line; in the portillo pass, proceeding eastward, we meet an immense mass of conglomerate, dipping to the west deg, which rest on micaceous sandstone, etc., etc., upheaved and converted into quartz-rock penetrated by dykes from the very grand mass of protogine (large crystals of quartz, red feldspar, and occasional little chlorite). now this conglomerate which reposes on and dips from the protogene deg consists of the peculiar rocks of the first described chain, pebbles of the black rock with shells, green sandstone, etc., etc. it is hence manifest that the upheaval (and deposition at least of part) of the grand eastern chain is entirely posterior to the western. to the north in the uspallata pass, we have also a fact of the same class. bear this in mind: it will help to make you believe what follows. i have said the uspallata range is geologically, although only , - , feet, a continuation of the grand eastern chain. it has its nucleus of granite, consists of grand beds of various crystalline rocks, which i can feel no doubt are subaqueous lavas alternating with sandstone, conglomerates and white aluminous beds (like decomposed feldspar) with many other curious varieties of sedimentary deposits. these lavas and sandstones alterate very many times, and are quite conformable one to the other. during two days of careful examination i said to myself at least fifty times, how exactly like (only rather harder) these beds are to those of the upper tertiary strata of patagonia, chiloe and concepcion, without the possible identity ever having occurred to me. at last there was no resisting the conclusion. i could not expect shells, for they never occur in this formation; but lignite or carbonaceous shale ought to be found. i had previously been exceedingly puzzled by meeting in the sandstone, thin layers (few inches to feet thick) of a brecciated pitchstone. i strongly suspect the underlying granite has altered such beds into this pitchstone. the silicified wood (particularly characteristic) was yet absent. the conviction that i was on the tertiary strata was so strong by this time in my mind, that on the third day in the midst of lavas and [? masses] of granite i began my apparently forlorn hunt. how do you think i succeeded? in an escarpement of compact greenish sandstone, i found a small wood of petrified trees in a vertical position, or rather the strata were inclined about - deg to one point and the trees deg to the opposite one. that is, they were before the tilt truly vertical. the sandstone consists of many layers, and is marked by the concentric lines of the bark (i have specimens); are perfectly silicified and resemble the dicotyledonous wood which i have found at chiloe and concepcion ( / . "geol. obs." page . specimens of the silicified wood were examined by robert brown, and determined by him as coniferous, "partaking of the characters of the araucarian tribe, with some curious points of affinity with the yew."); the others ( - ) i only know to be trees from the analogy of form and position; they consist of snow-white columns (like lot's wife) of coarsely crystalline carb. of lime. the largest shaft is feet. they are all close together, within yards, and about the same level: nowhere else could i find any. it cannot be doubted that the layers of fine sandstone have quietly been deposited between a clump of trees which were fixed by their roots. the sandstone rests on lava, is covered by a great bed apparently about , feet thick of black augitic lava, and over this there are at least grand alternations of such rocks and aqueous sedimentary deposits, amounting in thickness to several thousand feet. i am quite afraid of the only conclusion which i can draw from this fact, namely that there must have been a depression in the surface of the land to that amount. but neglecting this consideration, it was a most satisfactory support of my presumption of the tertiary (i mean by tertiary, that the shells of the period were closely allied, or some identical, to those which now live, as in the lower beds of patagonia) age of this eastern chain. a great part of the proof must remain upon my ipse dixit of a mineralogical resemblance with those beds whose age is known, and the character of which resemblance is to be subject to infinite variation, passing from one variety to another by a concretionary structure. i hardly expect you to believe me, when it is a consequence of this view that granite, which forms peaks of a height probably of , feet, has been fluid in the tertiary period; that strata of that period are altered by its heat, and are traversed by dykes from the mass. that these strata have also probably undergone an immense depression, that they are now inclined at high angles and form regular or complicated anticlinal lines. to complete the climax and seal your disbelief, these same sedimentary strata and lavas are traversed by very numerous, true metallic veins of iron, copper, arsenic, silver and gold, and these can be traced to the underlying granite. a gold mine has been worked close to the clump of silicified trees. if when you see my specimens, sections and account, you should think that there is pretty strong presumptive evidence of the above facts, it appears very important; for the structure, and size of this chain will bear comparison with any in the world, and that this all should have been produced in so very recent a period is indeed wonderful. in my own mind i am quite convinced of the reality of this. i can anyhow most conscientiously say that no previously formed conjecture warped my judgment. as i have described so did i actually observe the facts. but i will have some mercy and end this most lengthy account of my geological trip. on some of the large patches of perpetual snow, i found the famous red snow of the arctic countries; i send with this letter my observations and a piece of paper on which i tried to dry some specimens. if the fact is new and you think it worth while, either yourself examine them or send them to whoever has described the specimens from the north and publish a notice in any of the periodicals. i also send a small bottle with two lizards, one of them is viviparous as you will see by the accompanying notice. a m. gay--a french naturalist--has already published in one of the newspapers of this country a similar statement and probably has forwarded to paris some account; as the fact appears singular would it not be worth while to hand over the specimens to some good lizardologist and comparative anatomist to publish an account of their internal structure? do what you think fit. this letter will go with a cargo of specimens from coquimbo. i shall write to let you know when they are sent off. in the box there are two bags of seeds, one [from the] valleys of the cordilleras , - , feet high, the soil and climate exceedingly dry, soil very light and stony, extremes in temperature; the other chiefly from the dry sandy traversia of mendoza , feet more or less. if some of the bushes should grow but not be healthy, try a slight sprinkling of salt and saltpetre. the plain is saliferous. all the flowers in the cordilleras appear to be autumnal flowerers--they were all in blow and seed, many of them very pretty. i gathered them as i rode along on the hill sides. if they will but choose to come up, i have no doubt many would be great rarities. in the mendoza bag there are the seeds or berries of what appears to be a small potato plant with a whitish flower. they grow many leagues from where any habitation could ever have existed owing to absence of water. amongst the chonos dried plants, you will see a fine specimen of the wild potato, growing under a most opposite climate, and unquestionably a true wild potato. it must be a distinct species from that of the lower cordilleras one. perhaps as with the banana, distinct species are now not to be distinguished in their varieties produced by cultivation. i cannot copy out the few remarks about the chonos potato. with the specimens there is a bundle of old papers and notebooks. will you take care of them; in case i should lose my notes, these might be useful. i do not send home any insects because they must be troublesome to you, and now so little more of the voyage remains unfinished i can well take charge of them. in two or three days i set out for coquimbo by land; the "beagle" calls for me in the beginning of june. so that i have six weeks more to enjoy geologising over these curious mountains of chili. there is at present a bloody revolution in peru. the commodore has gone there, and in the hurry has carried our letters with him; perhaps amongst them there will be one from you. i wish i had the old commodore here, i would shake some consideration for others into his old body. from coquimbo you will again hear from me. letter . to j.s. henslow. lima, july th, . this is the last letter which i shall ever write to you from the shores of america, and for this reason i send it. in a few days time the "beagle" will sail for the galapagos islands. i look forward with joy and interest to this, both as being somewhat nearer to england and for the sake of having a good look at an active volcano. although we have seen lava in abundance, i have never yet beheld the crater. i sent by h.m.s. "conway" two large boxes of specimens. the "conway" sailed the latter end of june. with them were letters for you, since that time i have travelled by land from valparaiso to copiapo and seen something more of the cordilleras. some of my geological views have been, subsequently to the last letter, altered. i believe the upper mass of strata is not so very modern as i supposed. this last journey has explained to me much of the ancient history of the cordilleras. i feel sure they formerly consisted of a chain of volcanoes from which enormous streams of lava were poured forth at the bottom of the sea. these alternate with sedimentary beds to a vast thickness; at a subsequent period these volcanoes must have formed islands, from which have been produced strata of several thousand feet thick of coarse conglomerate. ( / . see "geological observations on south america" (london, ), chapter vii.: "central chile; structure of the cordillera.") these islands were covered with fine trees; in the conglomerate, i found one feet in circumference perfectly silicified to the very centre. the alternations of compact crystalline rocks (i cannot doubt subaqueous lavas), and sedimentary beds, now upheaved fractured and indurated, form the main range of the andes. the formation was produced at the time when ammonites, gryphites, oysters, pecten, mytilus, etc., etc., lived. in the central parts of chili the structure of the lower beds is rendered very obscure by the metamorphic action which has rendered even the coarsest conglomerates porphyritic. the cordilleras of the andes so worthy of admiration from the grandeur of their dimensions, rise in dignity when it is considered that since the period of ammonites, they have formed a marked feature in the geography of the globe. the geology of these mountains pleased me in one respect; when reading lyell, it had always struck me that if the crust of the world goes on changing in a circle, there ought to be somewhere found formations which, having the age of the great european secondary beds, should possess the structure of tertiary rocks or those formed amidst islands and in limited basins. now the alternations of lava and coarse sediment which form the upper parts of the andes, correspond exactly to what would accumulate under such circumstances. in consequence of this, i can only very roughly separate into three divisions the varying strata (perhaps , feet thick) which compose these mountains. i am afraid you will tell me to learn my abc to know quartz from feldspar before i indulge in such speculations. i lately got hold of a report on m. dessalines d'orbigny's labours in s. america ( / . "voyage dans l'amerique meridionale, etc." (a. dessalines d'orbigny).); i experienced rather a debasing degree of vexation to find he has described the geology of the pampas, and that i have had some hard riding for nothing, it was however gratifying that my conclusions are the same, as far as i can collect, with his results. it is also capital that the whole of bolivia will be described. i hope to be able to connect his geology of that country with mine of chili. after leaving copiapo, we touched at iquique. i visited but do not quite understand the position of the nitrate of soda beds. here in peru, from the state of anarchy, i can make no expedition. i hear from home, that my brother is going to send me a box with books, and a letter from you. it is very unfortunate that i cannot receive this before we reach sydney, even if it ever gets safely so far. i shall not have another opportunity for many months of again writing to you. will you have the charity to send me one more letter (as soon as this reaches you) directed to the c. of good hope. your letters besides affording me the greatest delight always give me a fresh stimulus for exertion. excuse this geological prosy letter, and farewell till you hear from me at sydney, and see me in the autumn of . letter . to josiah wedgwood. [shrewsbury, october th, .] my dear uncle the "beagle" arrived at falmouth on sunday evening, and i reached home late last night. my head is quite confused with so much delight, but i cannot allow my sisters to tell you first how happy i am to see all my dear friends again. i am obliged to return in three or four days to london, where the "beagle" will be paid off, and then i shall pay shrewsbury a longer visit. i am most anxious once again to see maer, and all its inhabitants, so that in the course of two or three weeks, i hope in person to thank you, as being my first lord of the admiralty. ( / .) readers of the "life and letters" will remember that it was to josiah wedgwood that darwin owed the great opportunity of his life ("life and letters," volume i., page ), and it was fitting that he should report himself to his "first lord of the admiralty." the present letter clears up a small obscurity to which mr. poulton has called attention ("charles darwin and the theory of natural selection," "century" series, , page ). writing to fitz-roy from shrewsbury on october th, darwin says, "i arrived here yesterday morning at breakfast time." this refers to his arrival at his father's house, after having slept at the inn. the date of his arrival in shrewsbury was, therefore, october th, as given in the "life and letters," i., page .) the entries in his diary are:--october , . took leave of my home. october , . reached shrewsbury after absence of years and days.) i am so very happy i hardly know what i am writing. believe me your most affectionate nephew, chas. darwin. letter . to c. lyell. shrewsbury, monday [november th, ]. my dear lyell i suppose you will be in hart st. ( / . sir charles lyell lived at , hart street, bloomsbury.) to-morrow [or] the th. i write because i cannot avoid wishing to be the first person to tell mrs. lyell and yourself, that i have the very good, and shortly since [i.e. until lately] very unexpected fortune of going to be married! the lady is my cousin miss emma wedgwood, the sister of hensleigh wedgwood, and of the elder brother who married my sister, so we are connected by manifold ties, besides on my part, by the most sincere love and hearty gratitude to her for accepting such a one as myself. i determined when last at maer to try my chance, but i hardly expected such good fortune would turn up for me. i shall be in town in the middle or latter end of the ensuing week. ( / . mr. darwin was married on january th, (see "life and letters," i., page ). the present letter was written the day after he had become engaged.) i fear you will say i might very well have left my story untold till we met. but i deeply feel your kindness and friendship towards me, which in truth i may say, has been one chief source of happiness to me, ever since my return to england: so you must excuse me. i am well sure that mrs. lyell, who has sympathy for every one near her, will give me her hearty congratulations. believe me my dear lyell yours most truly obliged chas. darwin. (plate: mrs. darwin. walker and cockerell, ph. sc.) letter . to emma wedgwood. sunday night. athenaeum. [january th, .] ...i cannot tell you how much i enjoyed my maer visit,--i felt in anticipation my future tranquil life: how i do hope you may be as happy as i know i shall be: but it frightens me, as often as i think of what a family you have been one of. i was thinking this morning how it came, that i, who am fond of talking and am scarcely ever out of spirits, should so entirely rest my notions of happiness on quietness, and a good deal of solitude: but i believe the explanation is very simple and i mention it because it will give you hopes, that i shall gradually grow less of a brute, it is that during the five years of my voyage (and indeed i may add these two last) which from the active manner in which they have been passed, may be said to be the commencement of my real life, the whole of my pleasure was derived from what passed in my mind, while admiring views by myself, travelling across the wild deserts or glorious forests or pacing the deck of the poor little "beagle" at night. excuse this much egotism,--i give it you because i think you will humanize me, and soon teach me there is greater happiness than building theories and accumulating facts in silence and solitude. my own dearest emma, i earnestly pray, you may never regret the great, and i will add very good, deed, you are to perform on the tuesday: my own dear future wife, god bless you...the lyells called on me to-day after church; as lyell was so full of geology he was obliged to disgorge,--and i dine there on tuesday for an especial confidence. i was quite ashamed of myself to-day, for we talked for half an hour, unsophisticated geology, with poor mrs. lyell sitting by, a monument of patience. i want practice in ill-treatment the female sex,--i did not observe lyell had any compunction; i hope to harden my conscience in time: few husbands seem to find it difficult to effect this. since my return i have taken several looks, as you will readily believe, into the drawing-room; i suppose my taste [for] harmonious colours is already deteriorated, for i declare the room begins to look less ugly. i take so much pleasure in the house ( / . no. , upper gower street, is now no. , gower street, and forms part of a block inhabited by messrs. shoolbred's employes. we are indebted, for this information, to mr. wheatley, of the society of arts.), i declare i am just like a great overgrown child with a new toy; but then, not like a real child, i long to have a co-partner and possessor. ( / . the following passage is taken from the ms. copy of the "autobiography;" it was not published in the "life and letters" which appeared in mrs. darwin's lifetime:--) you all know your mother, and what a good mother she has ever been to all of you. she has been my greatest blessing, and i can declare that in my whole life i have never heard her utter one word i would rather have been unsaid. she has never failed in kindest sympathy towards me, and has borne with the utmost patience my frequent complaints of ill-health and discomfort. i do not believe she has ever missed an opportunity of doing a kind action to any one near her. i marvel at my good fortune that she, so infinitely my superior in every single moral quality, consented to be my wife. she has been my wise adviser and cheerful comforter throughout life, which without her would have been during a very long period a miserable one from ill-health. she has earned the love of every soul near her. letter . c. lyell to c. darwin. [july?, ?]. ( / . lyell started on his first visit to the united states in july, , and was absent thirteen months. darwin returned to london july rd, , after a prolonged absence; he may, therefore, have missed seeing lyell. assuming the date to be correct, it would seem that the plan of living in the country was formed a year before it was actually carried out.) i have no doubt that your father did rightly in persuading you to stay [at shrewsbury], but we were much disappointed in not seeing you before our start for a year's absence. i cannot tell you how often since your long illness i have missed the friendly intercourse which we had so frequently before, and on which i built more than ever after your marriage. it will not happen easily that twice in one's life, even in the large world of london, a congenial soul so occupied with precisely the same pursuits and with an independence enabling him to pursue them will fall so nearly in my way, and to have had it snatched from me with the prospect of your residence somewhat far off is a privation i feel as a very great one. i hope you will not, like herschell, get far off from a railway. letter . to catherine darwin. ( / . the following letter was written to his sister catherine about two months before charles darwin settled at down:--) sunday [july ]. you must have been surprised at not having heard sooner about the house. emma and i only returned yesterday afternoon from sleeping there. i will give you in detail, as my father would like, my opinion on it--emma's slightly differs. position:--about / of a mile from the small village of down in kent-- miles from st. paul's-- / miles from station (with many trains) which station is only from london. this is bad, as the drive from [i.e. on account of] the hills is long. i calculate we are two hours going from london bridge. village about forty houses with old walnut trees in the middle where stands an old flint church and the lanes meet. inhabitants very respectable--infant school--grown up people great musicians--all touch their hats as in wales and sit at their open doors in the evening; no high road leads through the village. the little pot-house where we slept is a grocer's shop, and the landlord is the carpenter--so you may guess the style of the village. there are butcher and baker and post-office. a carrier goes weekly to london and calls anywhere for anything in london and takes anything anywhere. on the road [from london] to the village, on a fine day the scenery is absolutely beautiful: from close to our house the view is very distant and rather beautiful, but the house being situated on a rather high tableland has somewhat of a desolate air. there is a most beautiful old farm-house, with great thatched barns and old stumps of oak trees, like that of skelton, one field off. the charm of the place to me is that almost every field is intersected (as alas is ours) by one or more foot-paths. i never saw so many walks in any other county. the country is extraordinarily rural and quiet with narrow lanes and high hedges and hardly any ruts. it is really surprising to think london is only miles off. the house stands very badly, close to a tiny lane and near another man's field. our field is acres and flat, looking into flat-bottomed valleys on both sides, but no view from the drawing-room, which faces due south, except on our flat field and bits of rather ugly distant horizon. close in front there are some old (very productive) cherry trees, walnut trees, yew, spanish chestnut, pear, old larch, scotch fir and silver fir and old mulberry trees, [which] make rather a pretty group. they give the ground an old look, but from not flourishing much they also give it rather a desolate look. there are quinces and medlars and plums with plenty of fruit, and morello cherries; but few apples. the purple magnolia flowers against the house. there is a really fine beech in view in our hedge. the kitchen garden is a detestable slip and the soil looks wretched from the quantity of chalk flints, but i really believe it is productive. the hedges grow well all round our field, and it is a noted piece of hayland. this year the crop was bad, but was bought, as it stood, for pounds per acre--that is pounds--the purchaser getting it in. last year it was sold for pounds--no manure was put on in the interval. does not this sound well? ask my father. does the mulberry and magnolia show it is not very cold in winter, which i fear is the case? tell susan it is miles from knole park and from westerham, at which places i hear the scenery is beautiful. there are many very odd views round our house--deepish flat-bottomed valley and nice farm-house, but big, white, ugly, fallow fields;--much wheat grown here. house ugly, looks neither old nor new--walls two feet thick--windows rather small--lower story rather low. capital study x . dining-room x . drawing-room can easily be added to: is x . three stories, plenty of bedrooms. we could hold the hensleighs and you and susan and erasmus all together. house in good repair. mr. cresy a few years ago laid out for the owner , pounds and made a new roof. water-pipes over house--two bath-rooms--pretty good offices and good stable-yard, etc., and a cottage. i believe the price is about , pounds, and i have no doubt i shall get it for one year on lease first to try, so that i shall do nothing to the house at first (last owner kept three cows, one horse, and one donkey, and sold some hay annually from one field). i have no doubt if we complete the purchase i shall at least save , pounds over westcroft, or any other house we have seen. emma was at first a good deal disappointed, and at the country round the house; the day was gloomy and cold with n.e. wind. she likes the actual field and house better than i; the house is just situated as she likes for retirement, not too near or too far from other houses, but she thinks the country looks desolate. i think all chalk countries do, but i am used to cambridgeshire, which is ten times worse. emma is rapidly coming round. she was dreadfully bad with toothache and headache in the evening and friday, but in coming back yesterday she was so delighted with the scenery for the first few miles from down, that it has worked a great change in her. we go there again the first fine day emma is able, and we then finally settle what to do. ( / . the following fragmentary "account of down" was found among mr. darwin's papers after the publication of the "life and letters." it gives the impression that he intended to write a natural history diary after the manner of gilbert white, but there is no evidence that this was actually the case.) . may th.--the first peculiarity which strikes a stranger unaccustomed to a hilly chalk country is the valleys, with their steep rounded bottoms--not furrowed with the smallest rivulet. on the road to down from keston a mound has been thrown across a considerable valley, but even against this mound there is no appearance of even a small pool of water having collected after the heaviest rains. the water all percolates straight downwards. ascertain average depth of wells, inclination of strata, and springs. does the water from this country crop out in springs in holmsdale or in the valley of the thames? examine the fine springs in holmsdale. the valleys on this platform sloping northward, but exceedingly even, generally run north and south; their sides near the summits generally become suddenly more abrupt, and are fringed with narrow strips, or, as they are here called, "shaws" of wood, sometimes merely by hedgerows run wild. the sudden steepness may generally be perceived, as just before ascending to cudham wood, and at green hill, where one of the lanes crosses these valleys. these valleys are in all probability ancient sea-bays, and i have sometimes speculated whether this sudden steepening of the sides does not mark the edges of vertical cliffs formed when these valleys were filled with sea-water, as would naturally happen in strata such as the chalk. in most countries the roads and footpaths ascend along the bottoms of valleys, but here this is scarcely ever the case. all the villages and most of the ancient houses are on the platforms or narrow strips of flat land between the parallel valleys. is this owing to the summits having existed from the most ancient times as open downs and the valleys having been filled up with brushwood? i have no evidence of this, but it is certain that most of the farmhouses on the flat land are very ancient. there is one peculiarity which would help to determine the footpaths to run along the summits instead of the bottom of the valleys, in that these latter in the middle are generally covered, even far more thickly than the general surface, with broken flints. this bed of flints, which gradually thins away on each side, can be seen from a long distance in a newly ploughed or fallow field as a whitish band. every stone which ever rolls after heavy rain or from the kick of an animal, ever so little, all tend to the bottom of the valleys; but whether this is sufficient to account for their number i have sometimes doubted, and have been inclined to apply to the case lyell's theory of solution by rain-water, etc., etc. the flat summit-land is covered with a bed of stiff red clay, from a few feet in thickness to as much, i believe, as twenty feet: this [bed], though lying immediately on the chalk, and abounding with great, irregularly shaped, unrolled flints, often with the colour and appearance of huge bones, which were originally embedded in the chalk, contains not a particle of carbonate of lime. this bed of red clay lies on a very irregular surface, and often descends into deep round wells, the origin of which has been explained by lyell. in these cavities are patches of sand like sea-sand, and like the sand which alternates with the great beds of small pebbles derived from the wear-and-tear of chalk-flints, which form keston, hayes and addington commons. near down a rounded chalk-flint is a rarity, though some few do occur; and i have not yet seen a stone of distant origin, which makes a difference--at least to geological eyes--in the very aspect of the country, compared with all the northern counties. the chalk-flints decay externally, which, according to berzelius ("edin. new phil. journal," late number), is owing to the flints containing a small proportion of alkali; but, besides this external decay, the whole body is affected by exposure of a few years, so that they will not break with clean faces for building. this bed of red clay, which renders the country very slippery in the winter months from october to april, does not cover the sides of the valleys; these, when ploughed, show the white chalk, which tint shades away lower in the valley, as insensibly as a colour laid on by a painter's brush. nearly all the land is ploughed, and is often left fallow, which gives the country a naked red look, or not unfrequently white, from a covering of chalk laid on by the farmers. nobody seems at all aware on what principle fresh chalk laid on land abounding with lime does it any good. this, however, is said to have been the practice of the country ever since the period of the romans, and at present the many white pits on the hill sides, which so frequently afford a picturesque contrast with the overhanging yew trees, are all quarried for this purpose. the number of different kinds of bushes in the hedgerows, entwined by traveller's joy and the bryonies, is conspicuous compared with the hedges of the northern counties. march th [ ?].--the first period of vegetation, and the banks are clothed with pale-blue violets to an extent i have never seen equalled, and with primroses. a few days later some of the copses were beautifully enlivened by ranunculus auricomus, wood anemones, and a white stellaria. again, subsequently, large areas were brilliantly blue with bluebells. the flowers are here very beautiful, and the number of flowers; [and] the darkness of the blue of the common little polygala almost equals it to an alpine gentian. there are large tracts of woodland, [cut down] about once every ten years; some of these enclosures seem to be very ancient. on the south side of cudham wood a beech hedge has grown to brobdignagian size, with several of the huge branches crossing each other and firmly grafted together. larks abound here, and their songs sound most agreeably on all sides; nightingales are common. judging from an odd cooing note, something like the purring of a cat, doves are very common in the woods. june th.--the sainfoin fields are now of the most beautiful pink, and from the number of hive-bees frequenting them the humming noise is quite extraordinary. this humming is rather deeper than the humming overhead, which has been continuous and loud during all these last hot days over almost every field. the labourers here say it is made by "air-bees," and one man, seeing a wild bee in a flower different from the hive kind, remarked: "that, no doubt, is an air-bee." this noise is considered as a sign of settled fair weather. chapter .ii.--evolution, - . (chapter ii./ . since the publication of the "life and letters," mr. huxley's obituary notice of charles darwin has appeared. (chapter ii./ . "proc. r. soc." volume , , and "collected essays (darwiniana)," page , .) this masterly paper is, in our opinion, the finest of the great series of darwinian essays which we owe to mr. huxley. we would venture to recommend it to our readers as the best possible introduction to these pages. there is, however, one small point in which we differ from mr. huxley. in discussing the growth of mr. darwin's evolutionary views, mr. huxley quotes from the autobiography (chapter ii./ . "life and letters," i., page . some account of the origin of his evolutionary views is given in a letter to jenyns (blomefield), "life and letters," ii. page .) a passage in which the writer describes the deep impression made on his mind by certain groups of facts observed in south america. mr. huxley goes on: "the facts to which reference is here made were, without doubt, eminently fitted to attract the attention of a philosophical thinker; but, until the relations of the existing with the extinct species, and of the species of the different geographical areas with one another, were determined with some exactness, they afforded but an unsafe foundation for speculation. it was not possible that this determination should have been effected before the return of the "beagle" to england; and thus the date (chapter ii./ . the date in question is july , when he "opened first note-book on transmutation of species.') which darwin (writing in ) assigns to the dawn of the new light which was rising in his mind, becomes intelligible." this seems to us inconsistent with darwin's own statement that it was especially the character of the "species on galapagos archipelago" which had impressed him. (chapter ii./ . see "life and letters," i., page .) this must refer to the zoological specimens: no doubt he was thinking of the birds, but these he had himself collected in (chapter ii./ . he wrote in his "journal," page , "my attention was first thoroughly aroused, by comparing together the numerous specimens shot by myself and several other parties on board," etc.), and no accurate determination of the forms was necessary to impress on him the remarkable characteristic species of the different islands. we agree with mr. huxley that is the date of the "new light which was rising in his mind." that the dawn did not come sooner seems to us to be accounted for by the need of time to produce so great a revolution in his conceptions. we do not see that mr. huxley's supposition as to the effect of the determination of species, etc., has much weight. mr. huxley quotes a letter from darwin to zacharias, "but i did not become convinced that species were mutable until, i think, two or three years [after ] had elapsed" (see letter ). this passage, which it must be remembered was written in , is all but irreconcilable with the direct evidence of the note-book. a series of passages are quoted from it in the "life and letters," volume ii., pages et seq., and these it is impossible to read without feeling that he was convinced of immutability. he had not yet attained to a clear idea of natural selection, and therefore his views may not have had, even to himself, the irresistible convincing power they afterwards gained; but that he was, in the ordinary sense of the word, convinced of the truth of the doctrine of evolution we cannot doubt. he thought it "almost useless" to try to prove the truth of evolution until the cause of change was discovered. and it is natural that in later life he should have felt that conviction was wanting till that cause was made out. (chapter ii./ . see "charles darwin, his life told, etc." , page .) for the purposes of the present chapter the point is not very material. we know that in he wrote the first sketch of his theory, and that it was greatly amplified in . so that, at the date of the first letters of this chapter, we know that he had a working hypothesis of evolution which did not differ in essentials from that given in the "origin of species." to realise the amount of work that was in progress during the period covered by chapter ii., it should be remembered that during part of the time--namely, from to --he was largely occupied by his work on the cirripedes. (chapter ii./ . "life and letters," i. page .) this research would have fully occupied a less methodical workman, and even to those who saw him at work it seemed his whole occupation. thus (to quote a story of lord avebury's) one of mr. darwin's children is said to have asked, in regard to a neighbour, "then where does he do his barnacles?" as though not merely his father, but all other men, must be occupied on that group. sir joseph hooker, to whom the first letter in this chapter is addressed, was good enough to supply a note on the origin of his intimacy with mr. darwin, and this is published in the "life and letters." (chapter ii./ . ibid., ii., page . see also "nature," , june nd, page , where some reminiscences are published, which formed part of sir joseph's speech at the unveiling of darwin's statue in the oxford museum.) the close intercourse that sprang up between them was largely carried on by correspondence, and mr. darwin's letters to sir joseph have supplied most valuable biographical material. but it should not be forgotten that, quite apart from this, science owes much to this memorable friendship, since without hooker's aid darwin's great work would hardly have been carried out on the botanical side. and sir joseph did far more than supply knowledge and guidance in technical matters: darwin owed to him a sympathetic and inspiriting comradeship which cheered and refreshed him to the end of his life. a sentence from a letter to hooker written in shows, quite as well as more serious utterances, how quickly the acquaintance grew into friendship. "farewell! what a good thing is community of tastes! i feel as if i had known you for fifty years. adios." and in illustration of the permanence of the sympathetic bond between them, we quote a letter of written forty-two years after the first meeting with sir joseph in trafalgar square (see "life and letters," ii., page ). mr. darwin wrote: "your letter has cheered me, and the world does not look a quarter so black this morning as it did when i wrote before. your friendly words are worth their weight in gold.") letter . to j.d. hooker. down, thursday [january th, ]. my dear sir i must write to thank you for your last letter, and to tell you how much all your views and facts interest me. i must be allowed to put my own interpretation on what you say of "not being a good arranger of extended views"--which is, that you do not indulge in the loose speculations so easily started by every smatterer and wandering collector. i look at a strong tendency to generalise as an entire evil. what you say of mr. brown is humiliating; i had suspected it, but would not allow myself to believe in such heresy. fitz-roy gave him a rap in his preface ( / . in the preface to the "surveying voyages of the 'adventure' and the 'beagle,' - , forming volume i of the work, which includes the later voyage of the "beagle," captain fitz-roy wrote (march, ): "captain king took great pains in forming and preserving a botanical collection, aided by a person embarked solely for that purpose. he placed this collection in the british museum, and was led to expect that a first-rate botanist would have examined and described it; but he has been disappointed." a reference to robert brown's dilatoriness over king's collection occurs in the "life and letters," i., page , note.), and made him very indignant, but it seems a much harder one would not have been wasted. my cryptogamic collection was sent to berkeley; it was not large. i do not believe he has yet published an account, but he wrote to me some year ago that he had described [the specimens] and mislaid all his descriptions. would it not be well for you to put yourself in communication with him, as otherwise something will perhaps be twice laboured over? my best (though poor) collection of the cryptogams was from the chonos islands. would you kindly observe one little fact for me, whether any species of plant, peculiar to any island, as galapagos, st. helena, or new zealand, where there are no large quadrupeds, have hooked seeds--such hooks as, if observed here, would be thought with justness to be adapted to catch into wool of animals. would you further oblige me some time by informing me (though i forget this will certainly appear in your "antarctic flora") whether in islands like st. helena, galapagos, and new zealand, the number of families and genera are large compared with the number of species, as happens in coral islands, and as, i believe, in the extreme arctic land. certainly this is the case with marine shells in extreme arctic seas. do you suppose the fewness of species in proportion to number of large groups in coral islets is owing to the chance of seeds from all orders getting drifted to such new spots, as i have supposed. did you collect sea-shells in kerguelen-land? i should like to know their character. your interesting letters tempt me to be very unreasonable in asking you questions; but you must not give yourself any trouble about them, for i know how fully and worthily you are employed. ( / . the rest of the letter has been previously published in "life and letters," ii., page .) besides a general interest about the southern lands, i have been now ever since my return engaged in a very presumptuous work, and i know no one individual who would not say a very foolish one. i was so struck with the distribution of the galapagos organisms, etc., and with the character of the american fossil mammifers, etc., that i determined to collect blindly every sort of fact which could bear any way on what are species. i have read heaps of agricultural and horticultural books, and have never ceased collecting facts. at last gleams of light have come, and i am almost convinced (quite contrary to the opinion i started with) that species are not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable. heaven forfend me from lamarck nonsense of a "tendency to progression," "adaptations from the slow willing of animals," etc.! but the conclusions i am led to are not widely different from his; though the means of change are wholly so. i think i have found out (here's presumption!) the simple way by which species become exquisitely adapted to various ends. you will now groan, and think to yourself, "on what a man have i been wasting my time and writing to." i should, five years ago, have thought so...( / . on the questions here dealt with see the interesting letter to jenyns in the "life and letters," ii., page .) letter . to j.d. hooker. [november] . ...what a curious, wonderful case is that of the lycopodium! ( / . sir j.d. hooker wrote, november , : "i am firmly convinced (but not enough to print it) that l. selago varies in van diemen's land into l. varium. two more different species (as they have hitherto been thought), per se cannot be conceived, but nowhere else do they vary into one another, nor does selago vary at all in england.")...i suppose you would hardly have expected them to be more varying than a phanerogamic plant. i trust you will work the case out, and, even if unsupported, publish it, for you can surely do this with due caution. i have heard of some analogous facts, though on the smallest scale, in certain insects being more variable in one district than in another, and i think the same holds with some land-shells. by a strange chance i had noted to ask you in this letter an analogous question, with respect to genera, in lieu of individual species,--that is, whether you know of any case of a genus with most of its species being variable (say rubus) in one continent, having another set of species in another continent non-variable, or not in so marked a manner. mr. herbert ( / . no doubt dean herbert, the horticulturist. see "life and letters," i., page .) incidentally mentioned in a letter to me that the heaths at the cape of good hope were very variable, whilst in europe they are (?) not so; but then the species here are few in comparison, so that the case, even if true, is not a good one. in some genera of insects the variability appears to be common in distant parts of the world. in shells, i hope hereafter to get much light on this question through fossils. if you can help me, i should be very much obliged: indeed, all your letters are most useful to me. monday:--now for your first long letter, and to me quite as interesting as long. several things are quite new to me in it--viz., for one, your belief that there are more extra-tropical than intra-tropical species. i see that my argument from the arctic regions is false, and i should not have tried to argue against you, had i not fancied that you thought that equability of climate was the direct cause of the creation of a greater or lesser number of species. i see you call our climate equable; i should have thought it was the contrary. anyhow, the term is vague, and in england will depend upon whether a person compares it with the united states or tierra del fuego. in my journal (page ) i see i state that in south chiloe, at a height of about , feet, the forests had a fuegian aspect: i distinctly recollect that at the sea-level in the middle of chiloe the forest had almost a tropical aspect. i should like much to hear, if you make out, whether the n. or s. boundaries of a plant are the most restricted; i should have expected that the s. would be, in the temperate regions, from the number of antagonist species being greater. n.b. humboldt, when in london, told me of some river ( / . the obi (see "flora antarctica," page , note). hooker writes: "some of the most conspicuous trees attain either of its banks, but do not cross them.") in n.e. europe, on the opposite banks of which the flora was, on the same soil and under same climate, widely different! i forget ( / . the last paragraph is published in "life and letters," ii., page .) my last letter, but it must have been a very silly one, as it seems i gave my notion of the number of species being in great degree governed by the degree to which the area had been often isolated and divided. i must have been cracked to have written it, for i have no evidence, without a person be willing to admit all my views, and then it does follow. ( / . the remainder of the foregoing letter is published in the "life and letters," ii., page . it is interesting as giving his views on the mutability of species. thus he wrote: "with respect to books on this subject, i do not know any systematical ones, except lamarck's, which is veritable rubbish; but there are plenty, as lyell, pritchard, etc., on the view of the immutability." by "pritchard" is no doubt intended james cowles "prichard," author of the "physical history of mankind." prof. poulton has given in his paper, "a remarkable anticipation of modern views on evolution" ( / . "science progress," volume i., april , page .), an interesting study of prichard's work. he shows that prichard was in advance of his day in his views on the non-transmission of acquired characters. prof. poulton also tries to show that prichard was an evolutionist. he allows that prichard wrote with hesitation, and that in the later editions of his book his views became weaker. but, even with these qualifications, we think that poulton has unintentionally exaggerated the degree to which prichard believed in evolution. one of prichard's strongest sentences is quoted by poulton (loc. cit., page ); it occurs in the "physical history of mankind," ed. , volume ii., page :-- "is it not probable that the varieties which spring up within the limits of particular species are further adaptations of structure to the circumstances under which the tribe is destined to exist? varieties branch out from the common form of a species, just as the forms of species deviate from the common type of a genus. why should the one class of phenomena be without end or utility, a mere effect of contingency or chance, more than the other?" if this passage, and others similar to it, stood alone, we might agree with prof. poulton; but this is impossible when we find in volume i. of the same edition, page , the following uncompromising statement of immutability:-- "the meaning attached to the term species, in natural history, is very simple and obvious. it includes only one circumstance--namely, an original distinctness and constant transmission of any character. a race of animals, or plants, marked by any peculiarities of structure which have always been constant and undeviating, constitutes a species." on page , in speaking of the idea that the species which make up a genus may have descended from a common form, he says:-- "there must, indeed, be some principle on which the phenomena of resemblance, as well as those of diversity, may be explained; and the reference of several forms to a common type seems calculated to suggest the idea of some original affinity; but, as this is merely a conjecture, it must be kept out of sight when our inquiries respect matters of fact only." this view is again given in volume ii., page , where he asks whether we should believe that "at the first production of a genus, when it first grew into existence, some slight modification in the productive causes stamped it originally with all these specific diversities? or is it most probable that the modification was subsequent to its origin, and that the genus at its first creation was one and uniform, and afterwards became diversified by the influence of external agents?" he concludes that "the former of these suppositions is the conclusion to which we are led by all that can be ascertained respecting the limits of species, and the extent of variation under the influence of causes at present existing and operating." in spite of the fact that prichard did not carry his ideas to their logical conclusion, it may perhaps excite surprise that mr. darwin should have spoken of him as absolutely on the side of immutability. we believe it to be partly accounted for (as poulton suggests) by the fact that mr. darwin possessed only the third edition ( and ) and the fourth edition ( - ). ( / . the edition of - consists of reprints of the third edition and three additional volumes of various dates. volumes i. and ii. are described in the title-page as the fourth edition; volumes iii. and iv. as the third edition, and volume v. has no edition marked in the title.) in neither of these is the evolutionary point of view so strong as in the second edition. we have gone through all the passages marked by mr. darwin for future reference in the third and fourth editions, and have been only able to find the following, which occurs in the third edition (volume i., , page ) ( / . there is also (ed. , volume ii., page ) a vague reference to natural selection, of which the last sentence is enclosed in pencil in inverted commas, as though mr. darwin had intended to quote it: "in other parts of africa the xanthous variety [of man] often appears, but does not multiply. individuals thus characterised are like seeds which perish in an uncongenial soil.") "the variety in form, prevalent among all organised productions of nature, is found to subsist between individual beings of whatever species, even when they are offspring of the same parents. another circumstance equally remarkable is the tendency which exists in almost every tribe, whether of animals or of plants, to transmit to their offspring and to perpetuate in their race all individual peculiarities which may thus have taken their rise. these two general facts in the economy of organised beings lay a foundation for the existence of diversified races, originating from the same primitive stock and within the limits of identical species." on the following page (page ) a passage (not marked by mr. darwin) emphasises the limitation which prichard ascribed to the results of variation and inheritance:-- "even those physiologists who contend for what is termed the indefinite nature of species admit that they have limits at present and under ordinary circumstances. whatever diversities take place happen without breaking in upon the characteristic type of the species. this is transmitted from generation to generation: goats produce goats, and sheep, sheep." the passage on page occurs in the reprint of the - edition which forms part of the - edition, but is not there marked by mr. darwin. he notes at the end of volume i. of the - edition: "march, . i have not looked through all these [i.e. marked passages], but i have gone through the later edition"; and a similar entry is in volume ii. of the third edition. it is therefore easy to understand how he came to overlook the passage on page when he began the fuller statement of his species theory which is referred to in the "life and letters" as the "unfinished book." in the historical sketch prefixed to the "origin of species" writers are named as precursors whose claims are less strong than prichard's, and it is certain that mr. darwin would have given an account of him if he had thought of him as an evolutionist. the two following passages will show that mr. darwin was, from his knowledge of prichard's books, justified in classing him among those who did not believe in the mutability of species: "the various tribes of organised beings were originally placed by the creator in certain regions, for which they are by their nature peculiarly adapted. each species had only one beginning in a single stock: probably a single pair, as linnaeus supposed, was first called into being in some particular spot, and the progeny left to disperse themselves to as great a distance from the original centre of their existence as the locomotive powers bestowed on them, or their capability of bearing changes of climate and other physical agencies, may have enabled them to wander." ( / . prichard, third edition, - , volume i., page .) the second passage is annotated by mr. darwin with a shower of exclamation marks: "the meaning attached to the term species in natural history is very definite and intelligible. it includes only the following conditions--namely, separate origin and distinctness of race, evinced by the constant transmission of some characteristic peculiarity of organisation. a race of animals or of plants marked by any peculiar character which has always been constant and undeviating constitutes a species; and two races are considered as specifically different, if they are distinguished from each other by some characteristic which one cannot be supposed to have acquired, or the other to have lost through any known operation of physical causes; for we are hence led to conclude that the tribes thus distinguished have not descended from the same original stock." ( / . prichard, ed. - , volume i., page . this passage is almost identical with that quoted from the second edition, volume i., page . the latter part, from "and two races...," occurs in the second edition, though not quoted above.) as was his custom, mr. darwin pinned at the end of the first volume of the - edition a piece of paper containing a list of the pages where marked passages occur. this paper bears, written in pencil, "how like my book all this will be!" the words appear to refer to prichard's discussion on the dispersal of animals and plants; they certainly do not refer to the evolutionary views to be found in the book.) letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. thank you exceedingly for your long letter, and i am in truth ashamed of the time and trouble you have taken for me; but i must some day write again to you on the subject of your letter. i will only now observe that you have extended my remark on the range of species of shells into the range of genera or groups. analogy from shells would only go so far, that if two or three species...were found to range from america to india, they would be found to extend through an unusual thickness of strata--say from the upper cretaceous to its lowest bed, or the neocomian. or you may reverse it and say those species which range throughout the whole cretaceous, will have wide ranges: viz., from america through europe to india (this is one actual case with shells in the cretaceous period). letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. i ought to have written sooner to say that i am very willing to subscribe pound shilling to the african man (though it be murder on a small scale), and will send you a post-office-order payable to kew, if you will be so good as to take charge of it. thanks for your information about the antarctic zoology; i got my numbers when in town on thursday: would it be asking your publisher to take too much trouble to send your botany ["flora antarctica," by j.d. hooker, ] to the athenaeum club? he might send two or three numbers together. i am really ashamed to think of your having given me such a valuable work; all i can say is that i appreciate your present in two ways--as your gift, and for its great use to my species-work. i am very glad to hear that you mean to attack this subject some day. i wonder whether we shall ever be public combatants; anyhow, i congratulate myself in a most unfair advantage of you, viz., in having extracted more facts and views from you than from any one other person. i daresay your explanation of polymorphism on volcanic islands may be the right one; the reason i am curious about it is, the fact of the birds on the galapagos being in several instances very fine-run species--that is, in comparing them, not so much one with another, as with their analogues from the continent. i have somehow felt, like you, that an alpine form of a plant is not a true variety; and yet i cannot admit that the simple fact of the cause being assignable ought to prevent its being called a variety; every variation must have some cause, so that the difference would rest on our knowledge in being able or not to assign the cause. do you consider that a true variety should be produced by causes acting through the parent? but even taking this definition, are you sure that alpine forms are not inherited from one, two, or three generations? now, would not this be a curious and valuable experiment ( / . for an account of work of this character, see papers by g. bonnier in the "revue generale," volume ii., ; "ann. sc. nat." volume xx.; "revue generale," volume vii.), viz., to get seeds of some alpine plant, a little more hairy, etc., etc., than its lowland fellow, and raise seedlings at kew: if this has not been done, could you not get it done? have you anybody in scotland from whom you could get the seeds? i have been interested by your remarks on senecia and gnaphalium: would it not be worth while (i should be very curious to hear the result) to make a short list of the generally considered variable or polymorphous genera, as rosa, salix, rubus, etc., etc., and reflect whether such genera are generally mundane, and more especially whether they have distinct or identical (or closely allied) species in their different and distant habitats. don't forget me, if you ever stumble on cases of the same species being more or less variable in different countries. with respect to the word "sterile" as used for male or polleniferous flowers, it has always offended my ears dreadfully; on the same principle that it would to hear a potent stallion, ram or bull called sterile, because they did not bear, as well as beget, young. with respect to your geological-map suggestion, i wish with all my heart i could follow it; but just reflect on the number of measurements requisite; why, at present it could not be done even in england, even with the assumption of the land having simply risen any exact number of feet. but subsidence in most cases has hopelessly complexed the problem: see what jordanhill-smith ( / . james smith, of jordan hill, author of a paper "on the geology of gibraltar" ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume ii., page , ).) says of the dance up and down, many times, which gibraltar has had all within the recent period. such maps as lyell ( / . "principles of geology," , volume i., plate i, page .) has published of sea and land at the beginning of the tertiary period must be excessively inaccurate: it assumes that every part on which tertiary beds have not been deposited, must have then been dry land,--a most doubtful assumption. i have been amused by chambers v. hooker on the k. cabbage. i see in the "explanations" (the spirit of which, though not the facts, ought to shame sedgwick) that "vestiges" considers all land-animals and plants to have passed from marine forms; so chambers is quite in accordance. did you hear forbes, when here, giving the rather curious evidence (from a similarity in error) that chambers must be the author of the "vestiges": your case strikes me as some confirmation. i have written an unreasonably long and dull letter, so farewell. ( / . "explanations: a sequel to the vestiges of the natural history of creation" was published in , after the appearance of the fourth edition of the "vestiges," by way of reply to the criticisms on the original book. the "k. cabbage" referred to at the beginning of the paragraph is pringlea antiscorbutica," the "kerguelen cabbage" described by sir j.d. hooker in his "flora antarctica." what chambers wrote on this subject we have not discovered. the mention of sedgwick is a reference to his severe review of the "vestiges" in the "edinburgh review," , volume , page . darwin described it as savouring "of the dogmatism of the pulpit" ("life and letters," i., page ). mr. ireland's edition of the "vestiges" ( ), in which robert chambers was first authentically announced as the author, contains (page xxix) an extract from a letter written by chambers in , in which the following passage occurs, "the april number of the 'edinburgh review"' ( ) makes all but a direct amende for the abuse it poured upon my work a number of years ago." this is the well-known review by owen, to which references occur in the "life and letters," ii., page . the amende to the "vestiges" is not so full as the author felt it to be; but it was clearly in place in a paper intended to belittle the "origin"; it also gave the reviewer (page ) an opportunity for a hit at sedgwick and his review.) letter . to l. blomefield [jenyns]. down. february th [ ]. i have taken my leisure in thanking you for your last letter and discussion, to me very interesting, on the increase of species. since your letter, i have met with a very similar view in richardson, who states that the young are driven away by the old into unfavourable districts, and there mostly perish. when one meets with such unexpected statistical returns on the increase and decrease and proportion of deaths and births amongst mankind, and in this well-known country of ours, one ought not to be in the least surprised at one's ignorance, when, where, and how the endless increase of our robins and sparrows is checked. thanks for your hints about terms of "mutation," etc.; i had some suspicions that it was not quite correct, and yet i do not see my way to arrive at any better terms. it will be years before i publish, so that i shall have plenty of time to think of better words. development would perhaps do, only it is applied to the changes of an individual during its growth. i am, however, very glad of your remark, and will ponder over it. we are all well, wife and children three, and as flourishing as this horrid, house-confining, tempestuous weather permits. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. i hope you are getting on well with your lectures, and that you have enjoyed some pleasant walks during the late delightful weather. i write to tell you (as perhaps you might have had fears on the subject) that your books have arrived safely. i am exceedingly obliged to you for them, and will take great care of them; they will take me some time to read carefully. i send to-day the corrected ms. of the first number of my "journal" ( / . in he had written to his sister: "talking of money, i reaped the other day all the profit which i shall ever get from my "journal" ["journal of researches, etc."] which consisted in paying mr. colburn pounds shillings for the copies which i presented to different people; , copies have been sold. this is a comfortable arrangement, is it not?" he was proved wrong in his gloomy prophecy, as the second edition was published by mr. murray in .) in the colonial library, so that if you chance to know of any gross mistake in the first pages (if you have my "journal"), i should be obliged to you to tell me. do not answer this for form's sake; for you must be very busy. we have just had the lyells here, and you ought to have a wife to stop your working too much, as mrs. lyell peremptorily stops lyell. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . sir j.d. hooker's letters to mr. darwin seem to fix the date as , while the reference to forbes' paper indicates .) down [ - ]. i am particularly obliged for your facts about solitary islands having several species of peculiar genera; it knocks on the head some analogies of mine; the point stupidly never occurred to me to ask about. i am amused at your anathemas against variation and co.; whatever you may be pleased to say, you will never be content with simple species, "as they are." i defy you to steel your mind to technicalities, like so many of our brother naturalists. i am much pleased that i thought of sending you forbes' article. ( / . e. forbes' celebrated paper "memoirs of the geological survey of great britain," volume i., page , . in lyell's "principles," th edition, , page , he makes a temperate claim of priority, as he had already done in a private letter of october th, , to forbes ("life of sir charles lyell," , volume ii., page ) both as regards the sicilian flora and the barrier effect of mountain-chains. see letter for a note on forbes.) i confess i cannot make out the evidence of his time-notions in distribution, and i cannot help suspecting that they are rather vague. lyell preceded forbes in one class of speculation of this kind: for instance, in his explaining the identity of the sicily flora with that of south italy, by its having been wholly upraised within the recent period; and, so i believe, with mountain-chains separating floras. i do not remember humboldt's fact about the heath regions. very curious the case of the broom; i can tell you something analogous on a small scale. my father, when he built his house, sowed many broom-seeds on a wild bank, which did not come up, owing, as it was thought, to much earth having been thrown over them. about thirty-five years afterwards, in cutting a terrace, all this earth was thrown up, and now the bank is one mass of broom. i see we were in some degree talking to cross-purposes; when i said i did [not] much believe in hybridising to any extent, i did not mean at all to exclude crossing. it has long been a hobby of mine to see in how many flowers such crossing is probable; it was, i believe, knight's view, originally, that every plant must be occasionally crossed. ( / . see an article on "the knight-darwin law" by francis darwin in "nature," october th, , page .) i find, however, plenty of difficulty in showing even a vague probability of this; especially in the leguminosae, though their [structure?] is inimitably adapted to favour crossing, i have never yet met with but one instance of a natural mongrel (nor mule?) in this family. i shall be particularly curious to hear some account of the appearance and origin of the ayrshire irish yew. and now for the main object of my letter: it is to ask whether you would just run your eye over the proof of my galapagos chapter ( / . in the second edition of the "naturalist's voyage."), where i mention the plants, to see that i have made no blunders, or spelt any of the scientific names wrongly. as i daresay you will so far oblige me, will you let me know a few days before, when you leave edinburgh and how long you stay at kinnordy, so that my letter might catch you. i am not surprised at my collection from james island differing from others, as the damp upland district (where i slept two nights) is six miles from the coast, and no naturalist except myself probably ever ascended to it. cuming had never even heard of it. cuming tells me that he was on charles, james, and albemarle islands, and that he cannot remember from my description the scalesia, but thinks he could if he saw a specimen. i have no idea of the origin of the distribution of the galapagos shells, about which you ask. i presume (after forbes' excellent remarks on the facilities by which embryo-shells are transported) that the pacific shells have been borne thither by currents; but the currents all run the other way. (plate: edward forbes ? from a photograph by hill & adamson.) letter . edward forbes to c. darwin. ( / . edward forbes was at work on his celebrated paper in the "geological survey memoirs" for . we have not seen the letter of darwin's to which this is a reply, nor, indeed, any of his letters to forbes. the date of the letter is fixed by forbes's lecture given at the royal institution on february th, (according to l. horner's privately printed "memoirs," ii., page .)) wednesday. , southwark street, hyde park. [ ]. dear darwin to answer your very welcome letter, so far from being a waste of time, is a gain, for it obliges me to make myself clear and understood on matters which i have evidently put forward imperfectly and with obscurity. i have devoted the whole of this week to working and writing out the flora question, for i now feel strong enough to give my promised evening lecture on it at the royal institution on friday, and, moreover, wish to get it in printable form for the reports of our survey. therefore at no time can i receive or answer objections with more benefit than now. from the hurry and pressure which unfortunately attend all my movements and doings i rarely have time to spare, in preparing for publication, to do more than give brief and unsatisfactory abstracts, which i fear are often extremely obscure. now for your objections--which have sprung out of my own obscurities. i do not argue in a circle about the irish case, but treat the botanical evidence of connection and the geological as distinct. the former only i urged at cambridge; the latter i have not yet publicly maintained. my cambridge argument ( / . "on the distribution of endemic plants," by e. forbes, "brit. assoc. rep." (cambridge), page .) was this: that no known currents, whether of water or air, or ordinary means of transport ( / . darwin's note on transportation (found with forbes' letter): "forbes' arguments, from several spanish plants in ireland not being transported, not sound, because sea-currents and air ditto and migration of birds in same lines. i have thought not-transportation the greatest difficulty. now we see how many seeds every plant and tree requires to be regularly propagated in its own country, for we cannot think the great number of seeds superfluous, and therefore how small is the chance of here and there a solitary seedling being preserved in a well-stocked country."), would account for the little group of asturian plants--few as to species, but playing a conspicuous part in the vegetation--giving a peculiar botanical character to the south of ireland; that, as i had produced evidence of the other floras of our islands, i.e. the germanic, the cretaceous, and the devonian (these terms used topographically, not geologically) having been acquired by migration over continuous land (the glacial or alpine flora i except for the present--as ice-carriage might have played a great part in its introduction)--i considered it most probable, and maintained, that the introduction of that irish flora was also effected by the same means. i held also that the character of this flora was more southern and more ancient than that of any of the others, and that its fragmentary and limited state was probably due to the plants composing it having (from their comparative hardiness--heaths, saxifrages, etc.) survived the destroying influence of the glacial epoch. my geological argument now is as follows: half the mediterranean islands, or more, are partly--in some cases (as malta) wholly--composed of the upheaved bed of the miocene sea; so is a great part of the south of france from bordeaux to montpellier; so is the west of portugal; and we find the corresponding beds with the same fossils (pecten latissimus, etc.) in the azores. so general an upheaval seems to me to indicate the former existence of a great post-miocene land [in] the region of what is usually called the mediterranean flora. (everywhere these miocene islands, etc., bear a flora of true type.) if this land existed, it did not extend to america, for the fossils of the miocene of america are representative and not identical. where, then, was the edge or coast-line of it, atlantic-wards? look at the form and constancy of the great fucus-bank, and consider that it is a sargassum bank, and that the sargassum there is in an abnormal condition, and that the species of this genus of fuci are essentially ground-growers, and then see the probability of this bank having originated on a line of ancient coast. now, having thus argued independently, first on my flora and second on the geological evidences of land in the quarter required, i put the two together to bear up my irish case. i cannot admit the sargassum case to be parallel with that of confervae or oscillatoria. i think i have evidence from the fossils of the boulder formations in ireland that if such miocene land existed it must have been broken up or partially broken up at the epoch of the glacial or boulder period. all objections thankfully received. ever most sincerely, edward forbes. letter . to l. jenyns (blomefield). down. [ ]. i am much obliged for your note and kind intended present of your volume. ( / . no doubt the late mr. blomefield's "observations in natural history." see "life and letters," ii., page .) i feel sure i shall like it, for all discussions and observations on what the world would call trifling points in natural history always appear to me very interesting. in such foreign periodicals as i have seen, there are no such papers as white, or waterton, or some few other naturalists in loudon's and charlesworth's journal, would have written; and a great loss it has always appeared to me. i should have much liked to have met you in london, but i cannot leave home, as my wife is recovering from a rather sharp fever attack, and i am myself slaving to finish my s. american geology ( / . "geological observations in south america" (london), .), of which, thanks to all plutonic powers, two-thirds are through the press, and then i shall feel a comparatively free man. have you any thoughts of southampton? ( / . the british association met at southampton in .) i have some vague idea of going there, and should much enjoy meeting you. letter . to j.d. hooker. shrewsbury [end of february ]. i came here on account of my father's health, which has been sadly failing of late, but to my great joy he has got surprisingly better...i had not heard of your botanical appointment ( / . sir joseph was appointed botanist to the geological survey in .), and am very glad of it, more especially as it will make you travel and give you change of work and relaxation. will you some time have to examine the chalk and its junction with london clay and greensand? if so our house would be a good central place, and my horse would be at your disposal. could you not spin a long week out of this examination? it would in truth delight us, and you could bring your papers (like lyell) and work at odd times. forbes has been writing to me about his subsidence doctrines; i wish i had heard his full details, but i have expressed to him in my ignorance my objections, which rest merely on its too great hypothetical basis; i shall be curious, when i meet him, to hear what he says. he is also speculating on the gulf-weed. i confess i cannot appreciate his reasoning about his miocene continent, but i daresay it is from want of knowledge. you allude to the sicily flora not being peculiar, and this being caused by its recent elevation (well established) in the main part: you will find lyell has put forward this very clearly and well. the apennines (which i was somewhere lately reading about) seems a very curious case. i think forbes ought to allude a little to lyell's ( / . see letter .) work on nearly the same subject as his speculations; not that i mean that forbes wishes to take the smallest credit from him or any man alive; no man, as far as i see, likes so much to give credit to others, or more soars above the petty craving for self-celebrity. if you come to any more conclusions about polymorphism, i should be very glad to hear the result: it is delightful to have many points fermenting in one's brain, and your letters and conclusions always give one plenty of this same fermentation. i wish i could even make any return for all your facts, views, and suggestions. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following extract gives the germ of what developed into an interesting discussion in the "origin" (edition i., page ). darwin wrote, "i suspect also that some cases of compensation which have been advanced and likewise some other facts, may be merged under a more general principle: namely, that natural selection is continually trying to economise in every part of the organism." he speaks of the general belief of botanists in compensation, but does not quote any instances.) [september ]. have you ever thought of g. st. hilaire's "loi de balancement" ( / . according to darwin ("variation of animals and plants," nd edition, ii., page ) the law of balancement was propounded by goethe and geoffroy saint-hilaire ( - ) nearly at the same time, but he gives no reference to the works of these authors. it appears, however, from his son isidore's "vie, travaux etc., d'etienne geoffroy saint-hilaire," paris , page , that the law was given in his "philosophie anatomique," of which the first part was published in . darwin (ibid.) gives some instances of the law holding good in plants.), as applied to plants? i am well aware that some zoologists quite reject it, but it certainly appears to me that it often holds good with animals. you are no doubt aware of the kind of facts i refer to, such as great development of canines in the carnivora apparently causing a diminution--a compensation or balancement--in the small size of premolars, etc. i have incidentally noticed some analogous remarks on plants, but have never seen it discussed by botanists. can you think of cases in any one species in genus, or genus in family, with certain parts extra developed, and some adjoining parts reduced? in varieties of the same species double flowers and large fruits seem something of this--want of pollen and of seeds balancing with the increased number of petals and development of fruit. i hope we shall see you here this autumn. ( / . in this year ( ) darwin wrote a short review of waterhouse's "natural history of the mammalia," of which the first volume had appeared. it was published in "the annals and magazine of natural history," volume xix., page . the following sentence is the only one which shows even a trace of evolution: "whether we view classification as a mere contrivance to convey much information in a single word, or as something more than a memoria technica, and as connected with the laws of creation, we cannot doubt that where such important differences in the generative and cerebral systems, as distinguish the marsupiata from the placentata, run through two series of animals, they ought to be arranged under heads of equal value." a characteristic remark occurs in reference to geographical distribution, "that noble subject of which we as yet but dimly see the full bearing." the following letter seems to be of sufficient interest to be published in spite of the obscurities caused by the want of date. it seems to have been written after , in which year a dispute involving dr. king and several "arctic gentlemen" was carried on in the "athenaeum." mr. darwin speaks of "natural history instructions for the present expedition." this may possibly refer to the "admiralty manual of scientific enquiry" ( ), for it is clear, from the prefatory memorandum of the lords of the admiralty, that they believed the manual would be of use in the forthcoming expeditions in search of sir john franklin.) letter . to e. cresy. ( / . mr. cresy was, we believe, an architect: his friendship with mr. darwin dates from the settlement at down.) down [after ]. although i have never particularly attended to the points in dispute between dr. (richard) king and the other arctic gentlemen, yet i have carefully read all the articles in the "athenaeum," and took from them much the same impression as you convey in your letter, for which i thank you. i believe that old sinner, sir j. barrow ( / . sir john barrow, ( - ): secretary to the admiralty. has been at the bottom of all the money wasted over the naval expeditions. so strongly have i felt on this subject, that, when i was appointed on a committee for nat. hist. instructions for the present expedition, had i been able to attend i had resolved to express my opinion on the little advantage, comparatively to the expense, gained by them. there have been, i believe, from the beginning eighteen expeditions; this strikes me as monstrous, considering how little is known, for instance, on the interior of australia. the country has paid dear for sir john's hobbyhorse. i have very little doubt that dr. king is quite right in the advantage of land expeditions as far as geography is concerned; and that is now the chief object. ( / . this sentence would imply that darwin thought it hopeless to rescue sir j. franklin's expedition. if so, the letter must be, at least, as late as . if the eighteen expeditions mentioned above are "search expeditions," it would also bring the date of the letter to .) letter . to richard owen. down [march th, ]. my dear owen i do not know whether your ms. instructions are sent in; but even if they are not sent in, i daresay what i am going to write will be absolutely superfluous ( / . the results of mr. darwin's experience given in the above letter were embodied by prof. owen in the section "on the use of the microscope on board ship," forming part of the article "zoology" in the "manual of scientific enquiry, prepared for the use of her majesty's navy" (london, ).), but i have derived such infinitely great advantage from my new simple microscope, in comparison with the one which i used on board the "beagle," and which was recommended to me by r. brown ("life and letters," i., page .), that i cannot forego the mere chance of advantage of urging this on you. the leading point of difference consists simply in having the stage for saucers very large and fixed. mine will hold a saucer three inches in inside diameter. i have never seen such a microscope as mine, though chevalier's (from whose plan many points of mine are taken), of paris, approaches it pretty closely. i fully appreciate the utter absurdity of my giving you advice about means of dissecting; but i have appreciated myself the enormous disadvantage of having worked with a bad instrument, though thought a few years since the best. please to observe that without you call especial attention to this point, those ignorant of natural history will be sure to get one of the fiddling instruments sold in shops. if you thought fit, i would point out the differences, which, from my experience, make a useful microscope for the kind of dissection of the invertebrates which a person would be likely to attempt on board a vessel. but pray again believe that i feel the absurdity of this letter, and i write merely from the chance of yourself, possessing great skill and having worked with good instruments, [not being] possibly fully aware what an astonishing difference the kind of microscope makes for those who have not been trained in skill for dissection under water. when next i come to town (i was prevented last time by illness) i must call on you, and report, for my own satisfaction, a really (i think) curious point i have made out in my beloved barnacles. you cannot tell how much i enjoyed my talk with you here. ever, my dear owen, yours sincerely, c. darwin. p.s.--if i do not hear, i shall understand that my letter is superfluous. smith and beck were so pleased with the simple microscope they made for me, that they have made another as a model. if you are consulted by any young naturalists, do recommend them to look at this. i really feel quite a personal gratitude to this form of microscope, and quite a hatred to my old one. letter . to j.s. henslow. down [april st, .] thank you for your note and giving me a chance of seeing you in town; but it was out of my power to take advantage of it, for i had previously arranged to go up to london on monday. i should have much enjoyed seeing you. thanks also for your address ( / . an introductory lecture delivered in march at the first meeting of a society "for giving instructions to the working classes in ipswich in various branches of science, and more especially in natural history" ("memoir of the rev. j.s. henslow," by leonard jenyns, page .), which i like very much. the anecdote about whewell and the tides i had utterly forgotten; i believe it is near enough to the truth. i rather demur to one sentence of yours--viz., "however delightful any scientific pursuit may be, yet, if it should be wholly unapplied, it is of no more use than building castles in the air." would not your hearers infer from this that the practical use of each scientific discovery ought to be immediate and obvious to make it worthy of admiration? what a beautiful instance chloroform is of a discovery made from purely scientific researches, afterwards coming almost by chance into practical use! for myself i would, however, take higher ground, for i believe there exists, and i feel within me, an instinct for truth, or knowledge or discovery, of something of the same nature as the instinct of virtue, and that our having such an instinct is reason enough for scientific researches without any practical results ever ensuing from them. you will wonder what makes me run on so, but i have been working very hard for the last eighteen months on the anatomy, etc., of the cirripedia (on which i shall publish a monograph), and some of my friends laugh at me, and i fear the study of the cirripedia will ever remain "wholly unapplied," and yet i feel that such study is better than castle-building. letter . to j.d. hooker, at dr. falconer's, botanic garden, calcutta. down, may th, . i was indeed delighted to see your handwriting; but i felt almost sorry when i beheld how long a letter you had written. i know that you are indomitable in work, but remember how precious your time is, and do not waste it on your friends, however much pleasure you may give them. such a letter would have cost me half-a-day's work. how capitally you seem going on! i do envy you the sight of all the glorious vegetation. i am much pleased and surprised that you have been able to observe so much in the animal world. no doubt you keep a journal, and an excellent one it will be, i am sure, when published. all these animal facts will tell capitally in it. i can quite comprehend the difficulty you mention about not knowing what is known zoologically in india; but facts observed, as you will observe them, are none the worse for reiterating. did you see mr. blyth in calcutta? he would be a capital man to tell you what is known about indian zoology, at least in the vertebrata. he is a very clever, odd, wild fellow, who will never do what he could do, from not sticking to any one subject. by the way, if you should see him at any time, try not to forget to remember me very kindly to him; i liked all i saw of him. your letter was the very one to charm me, with all its facts for my species-book, and truly obliged i am for so kind a remembrance of me. do not forget to make enquiries about the origin, even if only traditionally known, of any varieties of domestic quadrupeds, birds, silkworms, etc. are there domestic bees? if so hives ought to be brought home. of all the facts you mention, that of the wild [illegible], when breeding with the domestic, producing offspring somewhat sterile, is the most surprising: surely they must be different species. most zoologists would absolutely disbelieve such a statement, and consider the result as a proof that they were distinct species. i do not go so far as that, but the case seems highly improbable. blyth has studied the indian ruminantia. i have been much struck about what you say of lowland plants ascending mountains, but the alpine not descending. how i do hope you will get up some mountains in borneo; how curious the result will be! by the way, i never heard from you what affinity the maldive flora has, which is cruel, as you tempted me by making me guess. i sometimes groan over your indian journey, when i think over all your locked up riches. when shall i see a memoir on insular floras, and on the pacific? what a grand subject alpine floras of the world ( / . mr. william botting hemsley, f.r.s., of the royal gardens, kew, is now engaged on a monograph of the high-level alpine plants of the world.) would be, as far as known; and then you have never given a coup d'oeil on the similarity and dissimilarity of arctic and antarctic floras. well, thank heavens, when you do come back you will be nolens volens a fixture. i am particularly glad you have been at the coal; i have often since you went gone on maundering on the subject, and i shall never rest easy in down churchyard without the problem be solved by some one before i die. talking of dying makes me tell you that my confounded stomach is much the same; indeed, of late has been rather worse, but for the last year, i think, i have been able to do more work. i have done nothing besides the barnacles, except, indeed, a little theoretical paper on erratic boulders ( / . "on the transportal of erratic boulders from a lower to a higher level" ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume iv., pages - . ). in this paper darwin favours the view that the transport of boulders was effected by coast-ice. an earlier paper entitled "notes on the effects produced by the ancient glaciers of caernarvonshire, and on the boulders transported by floating ice" ("phil. mag." , page ) is spoken of by sir archibald geikie as standing "almost at the top of the long list of english contributions to the history of the ice age" ("charles darwin," "nature" series, page ).), and scientific geological instructions for the admiralty volume ( / . "a manual of scientific enquiry, prepared for the use of her majesty's navy, and adapted for travellers in general." edited by sir john f.w. herschel, bart. section vi.--geology--by charles darwin. london, . see "life and letters," pages - .), which cost me some trouble. this work, which is edited by sir j. herschel, is a very good job, inasmuch as the captains of men-of-war will now see that the admiralty cares for science, and so will favour naturalists on board. as for a man who is not scientific by nature, i do not believe instructions will do him any good; and if he be scientific and good for anything the instructions will be superfluous. i do not know who does the botany; owen does the zoology, and i have sent him an account of my new simple microscope, which i consider perfect, even better than yours by chevalier. n.b. i have got a / inch object-glass, and it is grand. i have been getting on well with my beloved cirripedia, and get more skilful in dissection. i have worked out the nervous system pretty well in several genera, and made out their ears and nostrils ( / . for the olfactory sacs see darwin's "monograph of the cirripedia," , page .), which were quite unknown. i have lately got a bisexual cirripede, the male being microscopically small and parasitic within the sack of the female. i tell you this to boast of my species theory, for the nearest closely allied genus to it is, as usual, hermaphrodite, but i had observed some minute parasites adhering to it, and these parasites i now can show are supplemental males, the male organs in the hermaphrodite being unusually small, though perfect and containing zoosperms: so we have almost a polygamous animal, simple females alone being wanting. i never should have made this out, had not my species theory convinced me, that an hermaphrodite species must pass into a bisexual species by insensibly small stages; and here we have it, for the male organs in the hermaphrodite are beginning to fail, and independent males ready formed. but i can hardly explain what i mean, and you will perhaps wish my barnacles and species theory al diavolo together. but i don't care what you say, my species theory is all gospel. we have had only one party here: viz., of the lyells, forbes, owen, and ramsay, and we both missed you and falconer very much...i know more of your history than you will suppose, for miss henslow most good-naturedly sent me a packet of your letters, and she wrote me so nice a little note that it made me quite proud. i have not heard of anything in the scientific line which would interest you. sir h. de la beche ( / . the presidential address delivered by de la beche before the geological society in ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume iv., "proceedings," page xxi, ).) gave a very long and rather dull address; the most interesting part was from sir j. ross. mr. beete jukes figured in it very prominently: it really is a very nice quality in sir henry, the manner in which he pushes forward his subordinates. jukes has since read what was considered a very valuable paper. the man, not content with moustaches, now sports an entire beard, and i am sure thinks himself like jupiter tonans. there was a short time since a not very creditable discussion at a meeting of the royal society, where owen fell foul of mantell with fury and contempt about belemnites. what wretched doings come from the order of fame; the love of truth alone would never make one man attack another bitterly. my paper is full, so i must wish you with all my heart farewell. heaven grant that your health may keep good. letter . to j.s. henslow. the lodge, malvern, may th, . your kind note has been forwarded to me here. you will be surprised to hear that we all--children, servants, and all--have been here for nearly two months. all last autumn and winter my health grew worse and worse: incessant sickness, tremulous hands, and swimming head. i thought i was going the way of all flesh. having heard of much success in some cases from the cold-water cure, i determined to give up all attempts to do anything and come here and put myself under dr. gully. it has answered to a considerable extent: my sickness much checked and considerable strength gained. dr. g., moreover (and i hear he rarely speaks confidently), tells me he has little doubt but that he can cure me in the course of time--time, however, it will take. i have experienced enough to feel sure that the cold-water cure is a great and powerful agent and upsetter of all constitutional habits. talking of habits, the cruel wretch has made me leave off snuff--that chief solace of life. we thank you most sincerely for your prompt and early invitation to hitcham for the british association for ( / . the invitation was probably not for , but for , when the association met at ipswich.): if i am made well and strong, most gladly will i accept it; but as i have been hitherto, a drive every day of half a dozen miles would be more than i could stand with attending any of the sections. i intend going to birmingham ( / . the association met at birmingham in .) if able; indeed, i am bound to attempt it, for i am honoured beyond all measure in being one of the vice-presidents. i am uncommonly glad you will be there; i fear, however, we shall not have any such charming trips as nuneham and dropmore. ( / . in a letter to hooker (october th, ) darwin speaks of "that heavenly day at dropmore." ("life and letters," i., page .)) we shall stay here till at least june st, perhaps till july st; and i shall have to go on with the aqueous treatment at home for several more months. one most singular effect of the treatment is that it induces in most people, and eminently in my case, the most complete stagnation of mind. i have ceased to think even of barnacles! i heard some time since from hooker...how capitally he seems to have succeeded in all his enterprises! you must be very busy now. i happened to be thinking the other day over the gamlingay trip to the lilies of the valley ( / . the lily of the valley (convallaria majalis) is recorded from gamlingay by professor babington in his "flora of cambridgeshire," page . (london, .)): ah, those were delightful days when one had no such organ as a stomach, only a mouth and the masticating appurtenances. i am very much surprised at what you say, that men are beginning to work in earnest [at] botany. what a loss it will be for natural history that you have ceased to reside all the year in cambridge! letter . to j.f. royle. down, september st [ -?]. i return you with very many thanks your valuable work. i am sure i have not lost any slip or disarranged the loose numbers. i have been interested by looking through the volumes, though i have not found quite so much as i had thought possible about the varieties of the indian domestic animals and plants, and the attempts at introduction have been too recent for the effects (if any) of climate to have been developed. i have, however, been astonished and delighted at the evidence of the energetic attempts to do good by such numbers of people, and most of them evidently not personally interested in the result. long may our rule flourish in india. i declare all the labour shown in these transactions is enough by itself to make one proud of one's countrymen... letter . to hugh strickland. ( / . the first paragraph of this letter is published in the "life and letters," i., page , as part of a series of letters to strickland, beginning at page , where a biographical note by professor newton is also given. professor newton wrote: "in he brought the subject of natural history nomenclature before the british association, and prepared the code of rules for zoological nomenclature, now known by his name--the principles of which are very generally accepted." mr. darwin's reasons against appending the describer's name to that of the species are given in "life and letters," page . the present letter is of interest as giving additional details in regard to darwin's difficulties.) down, february th [ ]. i have again to thank you cordially for your letter. your remarks shall fructify to some extent, and i will try to be more faithful to rigid virtue and priority; but as for calling balanus "lepas" (which i did not think of) i cannot do it, my pen won't write it--it is impossible. i have great hopes some of my difficulties will disappear, owing to wrong dates in agassiz and to my having to run several genera into one; for i have as yet gone, in but few cases, to original sources. with respect to adopting my own notions in my cirripedia book, i should not like to do so without i found others approved, and in some public way; nor indeed is it well adapted, as i can never recognise a species without i have the original specimen, which fortunately i have in many cases in the british museum. thus far i mean to adopt my notion, in never putting mihi or darwin after my own species, and in the anatomical text giving no authors' names at all, as the systematic part will serve for those who want to know the history of the species as far as i can imperfectly work it out. i have had a note from w. thompson ( / . mr. thompson is described in the preface to the lepadidae as "the distinguished natural historian of ireland.") this morning, and he tells me ogleby has some scheme identical almost with mine. i feel pretty sure there is a growing general aversion to the appendage of author's name, except in cases where necessary. now at this moment i have seen specimens ticketed with a specific name and no reference--such are hopelessly inconvenient; but i declare i would rather (as saving time) have a reference to some second systematic work than to the original author, for i have cases of this which hardly help me at all, for i know not where to look amongst endless periodical foreign papers. on the other hand, one can get hold of most systematic works and so follow up the scent, and a species does not long lie buried exclusively in a paper. i thank you sincerely for your very kind offer of occasionally assisting me with your opinion, and i will not trespass much. i have a case, but [it is one] about which i am almost sure; and so to save you writing, if i conclude rightly, pray do not answer, and i shall understand silence as assent. olfers in made lepas aurita linn. into the genus conchoderma; [oken] in gave the name branta to lepas aurita and vittata, and by so doing he alters essentially olfers' generic definition. oken was right (as it turns out), and lepas aurita and vittata must form together one genus. ( / . in the "monograph on the cirripedia" (lepadidae) the names used are conchoderma aurita and virgata.) (i leave out of question a multitude of subsequent synonyms.) now i suppose i must retain conchoderma of olfers. i cannot make out a precise rule in the "british association report" for this. when a genus is cut into two i see that the old name is retained for part and altered to it; so i suppose the definition may be enlarged to receive another species--though the cases are somewhat different. i should have had no doubt if lepas aurita and vittata had been made into two genera, for then when run together the oldest of the two would have been retained. certainly to put conchoderma olfers is not quite correct when applied to the two species, for such was not olfers' definition and opinion. if i do not hear, i shall retain conchoderma for the two species... p.s.--will you by silence give consent to the following? linnaeus gives no type to his genus lepas, though l. balanus comes first. several oldish authors have used lepas exclusively for the pedunculate division, and the name has been given to the family and compounded in sub-generic names. now, this shows that old authors attached the name lepas more particularly to the pedunculate division. now, if i were to use lepas for anatifera ( / . anatifera and anatifa were used as generic names for what linnaeus and darwin called lepas anatifera.) i should get rid of the difficulty of the second edition of hill and of the difficulty of anatifera vel anatifa. linnaeus's generic description is equally applicable to anatifera and balanus, though the latter stands first. must the mere precedence rigorously outweigh the apparent opinion of many old naturalists? as for using lepas in place of balanus, i cannot. every one will understand what is meant by lepas anatifera, so that convenience would be wonderfully thus suited. if i do not hear, i shall understand i have your consent. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. ( / . in the "life and letters," i., page , is a letter to sir j.d. hooker from mr. darwin, to whom the former had dedicated his "himalayan journals." mr. darwin there wrote: "your letter, received this morning, has interested me extremely, and i thank you sincerely for telling me your old thoughts and aspirations." the following is the letter referred to, which at our request sir joseph has allowed us to publish.) kew, march st, . now that my book ( / . "himalayan journals," volumes. london, .) has been publicly acknowledged to be of some value, i feel bold to write to you; for, to tell you the truth, i have never been without a misgiving that the dedication might prove a very bad compliment, however kindly i knew you would receive it. the idea of the dedication has been present to me from a very early date: it was formed during the antarctic voyage, out of love for your own "journal," and has never deserted me since; nor would it, i think, had i never known more of you than by report and as the author of the said "naturalist's journal." short of the gratification i felt in getting the book out, i know no greater than your kind, hearty acceptation of the dedication; and, had the reviewers gibbeted me, the dedication would alone have given me real pain. i have no wish to assume a stoical indifference to public opinion, for i am well alive to it, and the critics might have irritated me sorely, but they could never have caused me the regret that the association of your name with a bad book of mine would have. you will laugh when i tell you that, my book out, i feel past the meridian of life! but you do not know how from my earliest childhood i nourished and cherished the desire to make a creditable journey in a new country, and write such a respectable account of its natural features as should give me a niche amongst the scientific explorers of the globe i inhabit, and hand my name down as a useful contributor of original matter. a combination of most rare advantages has enabled me to gain as much of my object as contents me, for i never wished to be greatest amongst you, nor did rivalry ever enter my thoughts. no ulterior object has ever been present to me in this pursuit. my ambition is fully gratified by the satisfactory completion of my task, and i am now happy to go on jog-trot at botany till the end of my days--downhill, in one sense, all the way. i shall never have such another object to work for, nor shall i feel the want of it...as it is, the craving of thirty years is satisfied, and i now look back on life in a way i never could previously. there never was a past hitherto to me. the phantom was always in view; mayhap it is only a "ridiculus mus" after all, but it is big enough for me... (plate: t.h. huxley, . maull & polyblank photo., walker & cockerell ph. sc.) ( / . the story of huxley's life has been fully given in the interesting biography edited by mr. leonard huxley. ( / . "life and letters of thomas henry huxley." london .) readers of this book and of the "life and letters of charles darwin" gain an insight into the relationship between this pair of friends to which any words of ours can add but little. darwin realised to the full the essential strength of mr. huxley's nature; he knew, as all the world now knows, the delicate sense of honour of his friend, and he was ever inclined to lean on his guidance in practical matters, as on an elder brother. of mr. huxley's dialectical and literary skill he was an enthusiastic admirer, and he never forgot what his theories owed to the fighting powers of his "general agent." ( / . ibid., i., page .) huxley's estimate of darwin is very interesting: he valued him most highly for what was so strikingly characteristic of himself--the love of truth. he spoke of finding in him "something bigger than ordinary humanity--an unequalled simplicity and directness of purpose--a sublime unselfishness." ( / . ibid., ii., page . huxley is speaking of gordon's death, and goes on: "of all the people whom i have met with in my life, he and darwin are the two in whom i have found," etc.) the same point of view comes out in huxley's estimate of darwin's mental power. ( / . ibid., ii., page .) "he had a clear, rapid intelligence, a great memory, a vivid imagination, and what made his greatness was the strict subordination of all these to his love of truth." this, as an analysis of darwin's mental equipment, seems to us incomplete, though we do not pretend to mend it. we do not think it is possible to dissect and label the complex qualities which go to make up that which we all recognise as genius. but, if we may venture to criticise, we would say that mr. huxley's words do not seem to cover that supreme power of seeing and thinking what the rest of the world had overlooked, which was one of darwin's most striking characteristics. as throwing light on the quality of their friendship, we give below a letter which has already appeared in the "life and letters of t.h. huxley," i., page . mr. l. huxley gives an account of the breakdown in health which convinced huxley's friends that rest and relief from anxiety must be found for him. mr. l. huxley aptly remarks of the letter, "it is difficult to say whether it does more honour to him who sent it or to him who received it." ( / . huxley's "life," i., page . mr. darwin left to mr. huxley a legacy of , pounds, "as a slight memorial of my lifelong affection and respect for him.")) letter . to t.h. huxley. down, april rd, . my dear huxley i have been asked by some of your friends (eighteen in number) to inform you that they have placed, through robarts, lubbock & co., the sum of , pounds to your account at your bankers. we have done this to enable you to get such complete rest as you may require for the re-establishment of your health; and in doing this we are convinced that we act for the public interest, as well as in accordance with our most earnest desires. let me assure you that we are all your warm personal friends, and that there is not a stranger or mere acquaintance amongst us. if you could have heard what was said, or could have read what was, as i believe, our inmost thoughts, you would know that we all feel towards you, as we should to an honoured and much loved brother. i am sure that you will return this feeling, and will therefore be glad to give us the opportunity of aiding you in some degree, as this will be a happiness to us to the last day of our lives. let me add that our plan occurred to several of your friends at nearly the same time and quite independently of one another. my dear huxley, your affectionate friend, charles darwin. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . the following letter is one of the earliest of the long series addressed to mr. huxley.) down, april rd [ ]. my dear sir i have got out all the specimens, which i have thought could by any possibility be of any use to you; but i have not looked at them, and know not what state they are in, but should be much pleased if they are of the smallest use to you. i enclose a catalogue of habitats: i thought my notes would have turned out of more use. i have copied out such few points as perhaps would not be apparent in preserved specimens. the bottle shall go to mr. gray on thursday next by our weekly carrier. i am very much obliged for your paper on the mollusca ( / . the paper of huxley's is "on the morphology of the cephalous mollusca, etc." ("phil. trans. r. soc." volume , part i., , page .)); i have read it all with much interest: but it would be ridiculous in me to make any remarks on a subject on which i am so utterly ignorant; but i can see its high importance. the discovery of the type or "idea" ( / . huxley defines his use of the word "archetype" at page : "all that i mean is the conception of a form embodying the most general propositions that can be affirmed respecting the cephalous mollusca, standing in the same relation to them as the diagram to a geometrical theorem, and like it, at once, imaginary and true.") (in your sense, for i detest the word as used by owen, agassiz & co.) of each great class, i cannot doubt, is one of the very highest ends of natural history; and certainly most interesting to the worker-out. several of your remarks have interested me: i am, however, surprised at what you say versus "anamorphism" ( / . the passage referred to is at page : "if, however, all cephalous mollusks...be only modifications by excess or defect of the parts of a definite archetype, then, i think, it follows as a necessary consequence, that no anamorphism takes place in this group. there is no progression from a lower to a higher type, but merely a more or less complete evolution of one type." huxley seems to use the term anamorphism in a sense differing from that of some writers. thus in jourdan's "dictionnaire des termes usites dans les sciences naturelles," , it is defined as the production of an atypical form either by arrest or excess of development.), i should have thought that the archetype in imagination was always in some degree embryonic, and therefore capable [of] and generally undergoing further development. is it not an extraordinary fact, the great difference in position of the heart in different species of cleodora? ( / . a genus of pteropods.) i am a believer that when any part, usually constant, differs considerably in different allied species that it will be found in some degree variable within the limits of the same species. thus, i should expect that if great numbers of specimens of some of the species of cleodora had been examined with this object in view, the position of the heart in some of the species would have been found variable. can you aid me with any analogous facts? i am very much pleased to hear that you have not given up the idea of noticing my cirripedial volume. all that i have seen since confirms everything of any importance stated in that volume--more especially i have been able rigorously to confirm in an anomalous species, by the clearest evidence, that the actual cellular contents of the ovarian tubes, by the gland-like action of a modified portion of the continuous tube, passes into the cementing stuff: in fact cirripedes make glue out of their own unformed eggs! ( / . on darwin's mistake in this point see "life and letters," iii., page .) pray believe me, yours sincerely, c. darwin. i told the above case to milne edwards, and i saw he did not place the smallest belief in it. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, september nd, [ ]. my second volume on the everlasting barnacles is at last published ( / . "a monograph of the sub-class cirripedia. ii. the balanidae, the verrucidae." ray society, .), and i will do myself the pleasure of sending you a copy to jermyn street next thursday, as i have to send another book then to mr. baily. and now i want to ask you a favour--namely, to answer me two questions. as you are so perfectly familiar with the doings, etc., of all continental naturalists, i want you to tell me a few names of those whom you think would care for my volume. i do not mean in the light of puffing my book, but i want not to send copies to those who from other studies, age, etc., would view it as waste paper. from assistance rendered me, i consider myself bound to send copies to: ( ) bosquet of maestricht, ( ) milne edwards, ( ) dana, ( ) agassiz, ( ) muller, ( ) w. dunker of hesse cassel. now i have five or six other copies to distribute, and will you be so very kind as to help me? i had thought of von siebold, loven, d'orbigny, kolliker, sars, kroyer, etc., but i know hardly anything about any of them. my second question, it is merely a chance whether you can answer,--it is whether i can send these books or any of them (in some cases accompanied by specimens), through the royal society: i have some vague idea of having heard that the royal society did sometimes thus assist members. i have just been reading your review of the "vestiges" ( / . in his chapter on the "reception of the origin of species" ("life and letters," ii., pages - ), mr. huxley wrote: "and the only review i ever have qualms of conscience about, on the ground of needless savagery, is one i wrote on the 'vestiges.'" the article is in the "british and foreign medico-chirurgical review," xiii., , page . the "great man" referred to below is owen: see huxley's review, page , and huxley's "life." i., page .), and the way you handle a great professor is really exquisite and inimitable. i have been extremely interested in other parts, and to my mind it is incomparably the best review i have read on the "vestiges"; but i cannot think but that you are rather hard on the poor author. i must think that such a book, if it does no other good, spreads the taste for natural science. but i am perhaps no fair judge, for i am almost as unorthodox about species as the "vestiges" itself, though i hope not quite so unphilosophical. how capitally you analyse his notion about law. i do not know when i have read a review which interested me so much. by heavens, how the blood must have gushed into the capillaries when a certain great man (whom with all his faults i cannot help liking) read it! i am rather sorry you do not think more of agassiz's embryological stages ( / . see "origin," edition vi., page : also letter , note.), for though i saw how exceedingly weak the evidence was, i was led to hope in its truth. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. with respect to "highness" and "lowness," my ideas are only eclectic and not very clear. it appears to me that an unavoidable wish to compare all animals with men, as supreme, causes some confusion; and i think that nothing besides some such vague comparison is intended, or perhaps is even possible, when the question is whether two kingdoms such as the articulata or mollusca are the highest. within the same kingdom i am inclined to think that "highest" usually means that form which has undergone most "morphological differentiation" from the common embryo or archetype of the class; but then every now and then one is bothered (as milne edwards has remarked) by "retrograde development," i.e., the mature animal having fewer and less important organs than its own embryo. the specialisation of parts to different functions, or "the division of physiological labour" ( / . a slip of the pen for "physiological division of labour.") of milne edwards exactly agrees (and to my mind is the best definition, when it can be applied) with what you state is your idea in regard to plants. i do not think zoologists agree in any definite ideas on this subject; and my ideas are not clearer than those of my brethren. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, july nd [ ]. i have had the house full of visitors, and when i talk i can do absolutely nothing else; and since then i have been poorly enough, otherwise i should have answered your letter long before this, for i enjoy extremely discussing such points as those in your last note. but what a villain you are to heap gratuitous insults on my elastic theory: you might as well call the virtue of a lady elastic, as the virtue of a theory accommodating in its favours. whatever you may say, i feel that my theory does give me some advantages in discussing these points. but to business: i keep my notes in such a way, viz., in bulk, that i cannot possibly lay my hand on any reference; nor as far as the vegetable kingdom is concerned do i distinctly remember having read any discussion on general highness or lowness, excepting schleiden (i fancy) on compositae being highest. ad. de jussieu ( / . "monographie de la famille des malpighiacees," by adrien de jussieu, "arch. du museum." volume iii., page , .), in "arch. du museum," tome , discusses the value of characters of degraded flowers in the malpighiaceae, but i doubt whether this at all concerns you. mirbel somewhere has discussed some such question. plants lie under an enormous disadvantage in respect to such discussions in not passing through larval stages. i do not know whether you can distinguish a plant low from non-development from one low from degradation, which theoretically, at least, are very distinct. i must agree with forbes that a mollusc may be higher than one articulate animal and lower than another; if one was asked which was highest as a whole, the molluscan or articulate kingdom, i should look to and compare the highest in each, and not compare their archetypes (supposing them to be known, which they are not.) but there are, in my opinion, more difficult cases than any we have alluded to, viz., that of fish--but my ideas are not clear enough, and i do not suppose you would care to hear what i obscurely think on this subject. as far as my elastic theory goes, all i care about is that very ancient organisms (when different from existing) should tend to resemble the larval or embryological stages of the existing. i am glad to hear what you say about parallelism: i am an utter disbeliever of any parallelism more than mere accident. it is very strange, but i think forbes is often rather fanciful; his "polarity" ( / . see letter , note.) makes me sick--it is like "magnetism" turning a table. if i can think of any one likely to take your "illustrations" ( / . "illustrations of himalayan plants from drawings made by j.f. cathcart." folio, .), i will send the advertisement. if you want to make up some definite number so as to go to press, i will put my name down with pleasure (and i hope and believe that you will trust me in saying so), though i should not in the course of nature subscribe to any horticultural work:--act for me. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, [may] th, . i am really truly sorry to hear about your [health]. i entreat you to write down your own case,--symptoms, and habits of life,--and then consider your case as that of a stranger; and i put it to you, whether common sense would not order you to take more regular exercise and work your brain less. (n.b. take a cold bath and walk before breakfast.) i am certain in the long run you would not lose time. till you have a thoroughly bad stomach, you will not know the really great evil of it, morally, physically, and every way. do reflect and act resolutely. remember your troubled heart-action formerly plainly told how your constitution was tried. but i will say no more--excepting that a man is mad to risk health, on which everything, including his children's inherited health, depends. do not hate me for this lecture. really i am not surprised at your having some headache after thursday evening, for it must have been no small exertion making an abstract of all that was said after dinner. your being so engaged was a bore, for there were several things that i should have liked to have talked over with you. it was certainly a first-rate dinner, and i enjoyed it extremely, far more than i expected. very far from disagreeing with me, my london visits have just lately taken to suit my stomach admirably; i begin to think that dissipation, high-living, with lots of claret, is what i want, and what i had during the last visit. we are going to act on this same principle, and in a very profligate manner have just taken a pair of season-tickets to see the queen open the crystal palace. ( / . queen victoria opened the crystal palace at sydenham on june th, .) how i wish there was any chance of your being there! the last grand thing we were at together answered, i am sure, very well, and that was the duke's funeral. have you seen forbes' introductory lecture ( / . edward forbes was appointed to a professorship at edinburgh in may, .) in the "scotsman" (lent me by horner)? it is really admirably done, though without anything, perhaps, very original, which could hardly be expected: it has given me even a higher opinion than i before had, of the variety and polish of his intellect. it is, indeed, an irreparable loss to london natural history society. i wish, however, he would not praise so much that old brown dry stick jameson. altogether, to my taste, it is much the best introductory lecture i have ever read. i hear his anniversary address is very good. adios, my dear hooker; do be wise and good, and be careful of your stomach, within which, as i know full well, lie intellect, conscience, temper, and the affections. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december nd [ ]. you are a pretty fellow to talk of funking the returning thanks at the dinner for the medal. ( / . the royal medal was given to sir joseph in .) i heard that it was decidedly the best speech of the evening, given "with perfect fluency, distinctness, and command of language," and that you showed great self-possession: was the latter the proverbially desperate courage of a coward? but you are a pretty fellow to be so desperately afraid and then to make the crack speech. many such an ordeal may you have to go through! i do not know whether sir william [hooker] would be contented with lord rosse's ( / . president of the royal society - .) speech on giving you the medal; but i am very much pleased with it, and really the roll of what you have done was, i think, splendid. what a great pity he half spoiled it by not having taken the trouble just to read it over first. poor hofmann ( / . august wilhelm hofmann, the other medallist of .) came off in this respect even worse. it is really almost arrogant insolence against every one not an astronomer. the next morning i was at a very pleasant breakfast party at sir r. inglis's. ( / . sir robert inglis, president of the british association in . apparently darwin was present at the afternoon meeting, but not at the dinner.) i have received, with very many thanks, the aberrant genera; but i have not had time to consider them, nor your remarks on australian botanical geography. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . the following letter shows darwin's interest in the adjudication of the royal medals. the year was the last during which he served on the council of the society. he had previously served in - .) down, march st, . i have thought and enquired much about westwood, and i really think he amply deserves the gold medal. but should you think of some one with higher claim i am quite ready to give up. indeed, i suppose without i get some one to second it, i cannot propose him. will you be so kind as to read the enclosed, and return it to me? should i send it to bell? that is, without you demur or convince me. i had thought of hancock, a higher class of labourer; but, as far as i can weigh, he has not, as yet, done so much as westwood. i may state that i read the whole "classification" ( / . possibly westwood's "introduction to the modern classification of insects" ( ).) before i was on the council, and ever thought on the subject of medals. i fear my remarks are rather lengthy, but to do him justice i could not well shorten them. pray tell me frankly whether the enclosed is the right sort of thing, for though i was once on the council of the royal, i never attended any meetings, owing to bad health. with respect to the copley medal ( / . the copley medal was given to lyell in .), i have a strong feeling that lyell has a high claim, but as he has had the royal medal i presume that it would be thought objectionable to propose him; and as i intend (you not objecting and converting me) to propose w. for the royal, it would, of course, appear intolerably presumptuous to propose for the copley also. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, june th, . shall you attend the council of the royal society on thursday next? i have not been very well of late, and i doubt whether i can attend; and if i could do anything (pray conceal the scandalous fact), i want to go to the crystal palace to meet the horners, lyells, and a party. so i want to know whether you will speak for me most strongly for barrande. you know better than i do his admirable labours on the development of trilobites, and his most important work on his lower or primordial zone. i enclose an old note of lyell's to show what he thinks. with respect to dana, whom i also proposed, you know well his merits. i can speak most highly of his classificatory work on crustacea and his geographical distribution. his volcanic geology is admirable, and he has done much good work on coral reefs. if you attend, do not answer this; but if you cannot be at the council, please inform me, and i suppose i must, if i can, attend. thank you for your abstract of your lecture at the royal institution, which interested me much, and rather grieved me, for i had hoped things had been in a slight degree otherwise. ( / . "on certain zoological arguments commonly adduced in favour of the hypothesis of the progressive development of animal life," discourse, friday, april , : "proceedings r.i." ( ). published also in "huxley's scientific memoirs." the lecturer dwelt chiefly on the argument of agassiz, which he summarises as follows: "homocercal fishes have in their embryonic state heterocercal tails; therefore heterocercality is, so far, a mark of an embryonic state as compared with homocercality, and the earlier heterocercal fish are embryonic as compared with the later homocercal." he shows that facts do not support this view, and concludes generally "that there is no real parallel between the successive forms assumed in the development of the life of the individual at present and those which have appeared at different epochs in the past.") i heard some time ago that before long i might congratulate you on becoming a married man. ( / . mr. huxley was married july st, .) from my own experience of some fifteen years, i am very sure that there is nothing in this wide world which more deserves congratulation, and most sincerely and heartily do i congratulate you, and wish you many years of as much happiness as this world can afford. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter illustrates darwin's work on aberrant genera. in the "origin," edition i., page , he wrote: "the more aberrant any form is, the greater must be the number of connecting forms which, on my theory, have been exterminated and utterly lost. and we have some evidence of aberrant forms having suffered severely from extinction, for they are generally represented by extremely few species; and such species as do occur are generally very distinct from each other, which again implies extinction.") down, november th [ ?]. in schoenherr's catalogue of curculionidae ( / . "genera et species curculionidum." (c.j. schoenherr: paris, - .)), the , species are on an average . to a genus. waterhouse (who knows the group well, and who has published on fewness of species in aberrant genera) has given me a list of aberrant genera, and these have on an average . species; and if one single genus be removed (and which i cannot yet believe ought to be considered aberrant), then the aberrant genera would have only . species on an average. i tested these results in another way. i found in schoenherr families, including only genera, and these genera ( of which were in waterhouse's list) i found included only . species on an average. this last result led me to lindley's "vegetable kingdom," in which i found (excluding thallogens and acrogens) that the genera include each . species (how near by chance to the curculionidae), and i find orders including single genera, and these genera have on average . species; but if lindley is right that erythroxylon (with its species) ought to be amongst the malpighiads, then the average would be only . per genus. but here comes, as it appears to me, an odd thing (i hope i shall not quite weary you out). there are other orders, each with genera, and these genera have on an average . species: this great number being owing to the genera in the smilaceae, salicaceae (with species), begoniaceae, balsaminaceae, grossulariaceae, without which the remaining genera have on an average only . species. this case of the orders with only genera, the genera notwithstanding having . species each, seems to me very perplexing and upsets, almost, the conclusion deducible from the orders with single genera. i have gone higher, and tested the alliances with , , and orders; and in these cases i find both the genera few in each alliance, and the species, less than the average of the whole kingdom, in each genus. all this has amused me, but i daresay you will have a good sneer at me, and tell me to stick to my barnacles. by the way, you agree with me that sometimes one gets despondent--for instance, when theory and facts will not harmonise; but what appears to me even worse, and makes me despair, is, when i see from the same great class of facts, men like barrande deduce conclusions, such as his "colonies" ( / . lyell briefly refers to barrande's bohemian work in a letter (august st, ) to fleming ("life of sir charles lyell," ii., page ): "he explained to me on the spot his remarkable discovery of a 'colony' of upper silurian fossils, , feet deep, in the midst of the lower silurian group. this has made a great noise, but i think i can explain away the supposed anomaly by, etc." (see letter , note.) and his agreement with e. de beaumont's lines of elevation, or such men as forbes with his polarity ( / . edward forbes "on the manifestation of polarity in the distribution of organised beings in time" ("edinburgh new phil. journal," volume lvii., , page ). the author points out that "the maximum development of generic types during the palaeozoic period was during its earlier epochs; that during the neozoic period towards its later periods." thus the two periods of activity are conceived to be at the two opposite poles of a sphere which in some way represents for him the system of nature.); i have not a doubt that before many months are over i shall be longing for the most dishonest species as being more honest than the honestest theories. one remark more. if you feel any interest, or can get any one else to feel any interest on the aberrant genera question, i should think the most interesting way would be to take aberrant genera in any great natural family, and test the average number of species to the genera in that family. how i wish we lived near each other! i should so like a talk with you on geographical distribution, taken in its greatest features. i have been trying from land productions to take a very general view of the world, and i should so like to see how far it agrees with plants. letter . to mrs. lyell. ( / . mrs. lyell is a daughter of the late mr. leonard horner, and widow of lieut.-col. lyell, a brother of sir charles.) down, january th [ ]. i shall be very glad to be of any sort of use to you in regard to the beetles. but first let me thank you for your kind note and offer of specimens to my children. my boys are all butterfly hunters; and all young and ardent lepidopterists despise, from the bottom of their souls, coleopterists. the simplest plan for your end and for the good of entomology, i should think, would be to offer the collection to dr. j.e. gray for the british museum on condition that a perfect set was made out for you. if the collection was at all valuable, i should think he would be very glad to have this done. whether any third set would be worth making out would depend on the value of the collection. i do not suppose that you expect the insects to be named, for that would be a most serious labour. if you do not approve of this scheme, i should think it very likely that mr. waterhouse would think it worth his while to set a series for you, retaining duplicates for himself; but i say this only on a venture. you might trust mr. waterhouse implicitly, which i fear, as [illegible] goes, is more than can be said for all entomologists. i presume, if you thought of either scheme, sir charles lyell could easily see the gentlemen and arrange it; but, if not, i could do so when next i come to town, which, however, will not be for three or four weeks. with respect to giving your children a taste for natural history, i will venture one remark--viz., that giving them specimens in my opinion would tend to destroy such taste. youngsters must be themselves collectors to acquire a taste; and if i had a collection of english lepidoptera, i would be systematically most miserly, and not give my boys half a dozen butterflies in the year. your eldest has the brow of an observer, if there be the least truth in phrenology. we are all better, but we have been of late a poor household. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. i should have less scruple in troubling you if i had any confidence what my work would turn out. sometimes i think it will be good, at other times i really feel as much ashamed of myself as the author of the "vestiges" ought to be of himself. i know well that your kindness and friendship would make you do a great deal for me, but that is no reason that i should be unreasonable. i cannot and ought not to forget that all your time is employed in work certain to be valuable. it is superfluous in me to say that i enjoy exceedingly writing to you, and that your answers are of the greatest possible service to me. i return with many thanks the proof on aquilegia ( / . this seems to refer to the discussion on the genus aquilegia in hooker and thomson's "flora indica," , volume i., systematic part, page . the authors' conclusion is that "all the european and many of the siberian forms generally recognised belong to one very variable species." with regard to cirripedes, mr. darwin spoke of "certain just perceptible differences which blend together and constitute varieties and not species" ("life and letters," i., page ).): it has interested me much. it is exactly like my barnacles; but for my particular purpose, most unfortunately, both kolreuter and gartner have worked chiefly on a. vulgaris and canadensis and atro-purpurea, and these are just the species that you seem not to have studied. n.b. why do you not let me buy the indian flora? you are too magnificent. now for a short ride on my chief (at present) hobbyhorse, viz. aberrant genera. what you say under your remarks on lepidodendron seems just the case that i want, to give some sort of evidence of what we both believe in, viz. how groups came to be anomalous or aberrant; and i think some sort of proof is required, for i do not believe very many naturalists would at all admit our view. thank you for the caution on large anomalous genera first catching attention. i do not quite agree with your "grave objection to the whole process," which is "that if you multiply the anomalous species by , and divide the normal by the same, you will then reverse the names..." for, to take an example, ornithorhynchus and echidna would not be less aberrant if each had a dozen (i do not say , because we have no such cases in the animal kingdom) species instead of one. what would really make these two genera less anomalous would be the creation of many genera and sub-families round and radiating from them on all sides. thus if australia were destroyed, didelphys in s. america would be wonderfully anomalous (this is your case with proteaceae), whereas now there are so many genera and little sub-families of marsupiata that the group cannot be called aberrant or anomalous. sagitta (and the earwig) is one of the most anomalous animals in the world, and not a bit the less because there are a dozen species. now, my point (which, i think is a slightly new point of view) is, if it is extinction which has made the genus anomalous, as a general rule the same causes of extinction would allow the existence of only a few species in such genera. whenever we meet (which will be on the rd [at the] club) i shall much like to hear whether this strikes you as sound. i feel all the time on the borders of a circle of truism. of course i could not think of such a request, but you might possibly:--if bentham does not think the whole subject rubbish, ask him some time to pick out the dozen most anomalous genera in the leguminosae, or any great order of which there is a monograph by which i could calculate the ordinary percentage of species to genera. i am the more anxious, as the more i enquire, the fewer are the cases in which it can be done. it cannot be done in birds, or, i fear, in mammifers. i doubt much whether in any other class of insects [other than curculionidae]. i saw your nice notice of poor forbes in the "gardeners' chronicle," and i see in the "athenaeum" a notice of meeting on last saturday of his friends. of course i shall wish to subscribe as soon as possible to any memorial... i have just been testing practically what disuse does in reducing parts. i have made [skeletons] of wild and tame duck (oh the smell of well-boiled, high duck!), and i find the tame duck ought, according to scale of wild prototype, to have its two wings grains in weight; but it has only , or grains too little, or / of [its] own two wings too little in weight. this seems rather interesting to me. ( / . on the conclusions drawn from these researches, see mr. platt ball, "the effects of use and disuse" (nature series), , page . with regard to his pigeons, darwin wrote, in november : "i love them to that extent that i cannot bear to kill and skeletonise them.") p.s.--i do not know whether you will think this worth reading over. i have worked it out since writing my letter, and tabulate the whole. orders with genus, having . species (or . ?). orders with genera, having . species on an average. orders each with genera, and these genera include on an average . species. orders each with genera, and these genera include on an average . species. orders each with above genera (altogether genera), and these genera on an average have . species. from this i conclude, whether there be many or few genera in an order, the number of species in a genus is not much affected; but perhaps when [there is] only one genus in an order it will be affected, and this will depend whether the [genus] erythroxylon be made a family of. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. i have been particularly glad to get your splendid eloge of lindley. his name had been lately passing through my head, and i had hoped that miers would have proposed him for the royal medal. i most entirely agree that the copley ( / . the late professor lindley never attained the honour of the copley medal. the royal medal was awarded to him in .) is more appropriate, and i daresay he would not have valued the royal. from skimming through many botanical books, and from often consulting the "vegetable kingdom," i had (ignorant as i am) formed the highest opinion of his claims as a botanist. if sharpey will stick up strong for him, we should have some chance; but the natural sciences are but feebly represented in the council. sir p. egerton, i daresay, would be strong for him. you know bell is out. now, my only doubt is, and i hope that you will consider this, that the natural sciences being weak on the council, and (i fancy) the most powerful man in the council, col. s[abine], being strong against lindley, whether we should have any chance of succeeding. it would be so easy to name some eminent man whose name would be well-known to all the physicists. would lindley hear of and dislike being proposed for the copley and not succeeding? would it not be better on this view to propose him for the royal? do think of this. moreover, if lindley is not proposed for the royal, i fear both royal medals would go [to] physicists; for i, for one, should not like to propose another zoologist, though hancock would be a very good man, and i fancy there would be a feeling against medals to two botanists. but for whatever lindley is proposed, i will do my best. we will talk this over here. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. ...with respect to huxley, i was on the point of speaking to crawford and strezlecki (who will be on committee of the athenaeum) when i bethought me of how owen would look and what he would say. cannot you fancy him, with slow and gentle voice, asking "will mr. crawford tell me what mr. huxley has done, deserving this honour; i only know that he differs from, and disputes the authority of cuvier, ehrenberg, and agassiz as of no weight at all." and when i began to tell mr. crawford what to say, i was puzzled, and could refer him only to some excellent papers in the "phil. trans." for which the medal had been awarded. but i doubt, with an opposing faction, whether this would be considered enough, for i believe real scientific merit is not thought enough, without the person is generally well known. now i want to hear what you deliberately think on this head: it would be bad to get him proposed and then rejected; and owen is very powerful. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ]. i have got the lectures, and have read them. ( / . the reference is presumably to the royal institution lectures given in - . those which we have seen--namely, those reprinted in the "scientific memoirs," volume i.--"on the common plan of animal form," page ; "on certain zoological arguments, etc." page ; "on natural history as knowledge, discipline, and power," page , do not seem to us to contain anything likely to offend; but falconer's attack in the "ann. and mag. of nat. hist." june , on the last-named lecture, shows strong feeling. a reply by mr. huxley appeared in the july number of the same journal. the most heretical discussion from a modern standpoint is at page , where he asks how it is conceivable that the bright colours of butterflies and shells or the elegant forms of foraminifera can possibly be of service to their possessors; and it is this which especially struck darwin, judging by the pencil notes on his copy of the lecture.) though i believe, as far as my knowledge goes, that huxley is right, yet i think his tone very much too vehement, and i have ventured to say so in a note to huxley. i had not thought of these lectures in relation to the athenaeum ( / . mr. huxley was in elected to the athenaeum club under rule , which provides for the annual election of "a certain number of persons of distinguished eminence in science, literature, or the arts, or for public services."), but i am inclined quite to agree with you, and that we had better pause before anything is said...(n.b. i found falconer very indignant at the manner in which huxley treated cuvier in his royal institution lectures; and i have gently told huxley so.) i think we had better do nothing: to try in earnest to get a great naturalist into the athenaeum and fail, is far worse than doing nothing. how strange, funny, and disgraceful that nearly all (faraday and sir j. herschel at least exceptions) our great men are in quarrels in couplets; it never struck me before... letter . c. lyell to charles darwin. ( / . in the "life and letters," ii., page , is given a letter (june th, ) to lyell, in which darwin exhales his indignation over the "extensionists" who created continents ad libitum to suit the convenience of their theories. on page a fuller statement of his views is given in a letter dated june th. we have not seen lyell's reply to this, but his reply to darwin's letter of june th is extant, and is here printed for the first time.) , harley street, london, june th, . i wonder you did not also mention d. sharpe's paper ( / . "on the last elevation of the alps, etc." ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xii., , page .), just published, by which the alps were submerged as far as , feet of their present elevation above the sea in the glacial period and then since uplifted again. without admitting this, you would probably convey the alpine boulders to the jura by marine currents, and if so, make the alps and jura islands in the glacial sea. and would not the glacial theory, as now very generally understood, immerse as much of europe as i did in my original map of europe, when i simply expressed all the area which at some time or other had been under water since the commencement of the eocene period? i almost suspect the glacial submergence would exceed it. but would not this be a measure of the movement in every other area, northern (arctic), antarctic, or tropical, during an equal period--oceanic or continental? for the conversion of sea into land would always equal the turning of much land into sea. but all this would be done in a fraction of the pliocene period; the glacial shells are barely per cent. extinct species. multiply this by the older pliocene and miocene epochs. you also forget an author who, by means of atolls, contrived to submerge archipelagoes (or continents?), the mountains of which must originally have differed from each other in height , (or , ?) feet, so that they all just rose to the surface at one level, or their sites are marked by buoys of coral. i could never feel sure whether he meant this tremendous catastrophe, all brought about by what sedgwick called "lyell's niggling operations," to have been effected during the era of existing species of corals. perhaps you can tell me, for i am really curious to know...( / . the author referred to is of course darwin.) now, although there is nothing in my works to warrant the building up of continents in the atlantic and pacific even since the eocene period, yet, as some of the rocks in the central alps are in part eocene, i begin to think that all continents and oceans may be chiefly, if not all, post-eocene, and dana's "atlantic ocean" of the lower silurian is childish (see the anniversary address, ). ( / . probably dana's anniversary address to the "american association for the advancement of science," published in the "proceedings" .) but how far you are at liberty to call up continents from "the vasty deep" as often as you want to convey a helix from the united states to europe in miocene or pliocene periods is a question; for the ocean is getting deeper of late, and haughton says the mean depth is eleven miles! by his late paper on tides. ( / . "on the depth of the sea deducible from tidal observations" ("proc. irish acad." volume vi., page , - ).) i shall be surprised if this turns out true by soundings. i thought your mind was expanding so much in regard to time that you would have been going ahead in regard to the possibility of mountain-chains being created in a fraction of the period required to convert a swan into a goose, or vice versa. nine feet did the rimutaka chain of new zealand gain in height in january, , and a great earthquake has occurred in new zealand every seven years for half a century nearly. the "washingtonia" (californian conifer) ( / . washingtonia, or wellingtonia, better known as sequoia. asa gray, writing in , states his belief that "no sequoia now alive can sensibly antedate the christian era" ("scientific papers," ii., page ).) lately exhibited was four thousand years old, so that one individual might see a chain of hills rise, and rise with it, much [more] a species--and those islands which j. hooker describes as covered with new zealand plants three hundred (?) miles to the n.e. (?) of new zealand may have been separated from the mainland two or three or four generations of washingtonia ago. if the identity of the land-shells of all the hundreds of british isles be owing to their having been united since the glacial period, and the discordance, almost total, of the shells of porto santo and madeira be owing to their having been separated [during] all the newer and possibly older pliocene periods, then it gives us a conception of time which will aid you much in your conversion of species, if immensity of time will do all you require; for the glacial period is thus shown, as we might have anticipated, to be contemptible in duration or in distance from us, as compared to the older pliocene, let alone the miocene, when our contemporary species were, though in a minority, already beginning to flourish. the littoral shells, according to macandrew, imply that madeira and the canaries were once joined to the mainland of europe or africa, but that those isles were disjoined so long ago that most of the species came in since. in short, the marine shells tell the same story as the land shells. why do the plants of porto santo and madeira agree so nearly? and why do the shells which are the same as european or african species remain quite unaltered, like the crag species, which returned unchanged to the british seas after being expelled from them by glacial cold, when two millions (?) of years had elapsed, and after such migration to milder seas? be so good as to explain all this in your next letter. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, july th [ ]. i write this morning in great tribulation about tristan d'acunha. ( / . see "flora antarctica," page . though tristan d'acunha is "only , miles distant from the cape of good hope, and , from the strait of magalhaens, the botany of this island is far more intimately allied to that of fuegia than africa.") the more i reflect on your antarctic flora the more i am astounded. you give all the facts so clearly and fully, that it is impossible to help speculating on the subject; but it drives me to despair, for i cannot gulp down your continent; and not being able to do so gives, in my eyes, the multiple creationists an awful triumph. it is a wondrous case, and how strange that a. de candolle should have ignored it; which he certainly has, as it seems to me. i wrote lyell a long geological letter ( / . "life and letters," ii., page .) about continents, and i have had a very long and interesting answer; but i cannot in the least gather his opinion about all your continental extensionists; and i have written again beseeching a verdict. ( / . in the tenth edition of the "principles," , lyell added a chapter (chapter xli., page ) on insular floras and faunas in relation to the origin of species; he here (page ) gives his reasons against forbes as an extensionist.) i asked him to send to you my letter, for as it was well copied it would not be troublesome to read; but whether worth reading i really do not know; i have given in it the reasons which make me strongly opposed to continental extensions. i was very glad to get your note some days ago: i wish you would think it worth while, as you intend to have the laburnum case translated, to write to "wien" (that unknown place) ( / . there is a tradition that darwin once asked hooker where "this place wien is, where they publish so many books."), and find out how the laburnum has been behaving: it really ought to be known. the entada is a beast. ( / . the large seeds of entada scandens are occasionally floated across the atlantic and cast on the shores of europe.); i have never differed from you about the growth of a plant in a new island being a far harder trial than transportal, though certainly that seems hard enough. indeed i suspect i go even further than you in this respect; but it is too long a story. thank you for the aristolochia and viscum cases: what species were they? i ask, because oddly these two very genera i have seen advanced as instances (i forget at present by whom, but by good men) in which the agency of insects was absolutely necessary for impregnation. in our british dioecious viscum i suppose it must be necessary. was there anything to show that the stigma was ready for pollen in these two cases? for it seems that there are many cases in which pollen is shed long before the stigma is ready. as in our viscum, insects carry, sufficiently regularly for impregnation, pollen from flower to flower, i should think that there must be occasional crosses even in an hermaphrodite viscum. i have never heard of bees and butterflies, only moths, producing fertile eggs without copulation. with respect to the ray society, i profited so enormously by its publishing my cirrepedia, that i cannot quite agree with you on confining it to translations; i know not how else i could possibly have published. i have just sent in my name for pounds to the linnaean society, but i must confess i have done it with heavy groans, whereas i daresay you gave your pounds like a light-hearted gentleman... p.s. wollaston speaks strongly about the intermediate grade between two varieties in insects and mollusca being often rarer than the two varieties themselves. this is obviously very important for me, and not easy to explain. i believe i have had cases from you. but, if you believe in this, i wish you would give me a sentence to quote from you on this head. there must, i think, be a good deal of truth in it; otherwise there could hardly be nearly distinct varieties under any species, for we should have instead a blending series, as in brambles and willows. letter . to j.d. hooker. july th, . what a book a devil's chaplain might write on the clumsy, wasteful, blundering, low, and horribly cruel works of nature! with respect to crossing, from one sentence in your letter i think you misunderstand me. i am very far from believing in hybrids: only in crossing of the same species or of close varieties. these two or three last days i have been observing wheat, and have convinced myself that l. deslongchamps is in error about impregnation taking place in closed flowers; i.e., of course, i can judge only from external appearances. by the way, r. brown once told me that the use of the brush on stigma of grasses was unknown. do you know its use?... you say most truly about multiple creations and my notions. if any one case could be proved, i should be smashed; but as i am writing my book, i try to take as much pains as possible to give the strongest cases opposed to me, and often such conjectures as occur to me. i have been working your books as the richest (and vilest) mine against me; and what hard work i have had to get up your new zealand flora! as i have to quote you so often, i should like to refer to muller's case of the australian alps. where is it published? is it a book? a correct reference would be enough for me, though it is wrong even to quote without looking oneself. i should like to see very much forbes's sheets, which you refer to; but i must confess (i hardly know why) i have got rather to mistrust poor dear forbes. there is wonderful ill logic in his famous and admirable memoir on distribution, as it appears to me, now that i have got it up so as to give the heads in a page. depend on it, my saying is a true one--viz. that a compiler is a great man, and an original man a commonplace man. any fool can generalise and speculate; but oh, my heavens, to get up at second hand a new zealand flora, that is work... and now i am going to beg almost as great a favour as a man can beg of another: and i ask some five or six weeks before i want the favour done, that it may appear less horrid. it is to read, but well copied out, my pages (about forty!!) on alpine floras and faunas, arctic and antarctic floras and faunas, and the supposed cold mundane period. it would be really an enormous advantage to me, as i am sure otherwise to make botanical blunders. i would specify the few points on which i most want your advice. but it is quite likely that you may object on the ground that you might be publishing before me (i hope to publish in a year at furthest), so that it would hamper and bother you; and secondly you may object to the loss of time, for i daresay it would take an hour and a half to read. it certainly would be of immense advantage to me; but of course you must not think of doing it if it would interfere with your own work. i do not consider this request in futuro as breaking my promise to give no more trouble for some time. from lyell's letters, he is coming round at a railway pace on the mutability of species, and authorises me to put some sentences on this head in my preface. i shall meet lyell on wednesday at lord stanhope's, and will ask him to forward my letter to you; though, as my arguments have not struck him, they cannot have force, and my head must be crotchety on the subject; but the crotchets keep firmly there. i have given your opinion on continuous land, i see, too strongly. letter . to s.p. woodward. down, july th [ ]. very many thanks for your kindness in writing to me at such length, and i am glad to say for your sake that i do not see that i shall have to beg any further favours. what a range and what a variability in the cyrena! ( / . a genus of lamellibranchs ranging from the lias to the present day.) your list of the ranges of the land and fresh-water shells certainly is most striking and curious, and especially as the antiquity of four of them is so clearly shown. i have got harvey's seaside book, and liked it; i was not particularly struck with it, but i will re-read the first and last chapters. i am growing as bad as the worst about species, and hardly have a vestige of belief in the permanence of species left in me; and this confession will make you think very lightly of me, but i cannot help it. such has become my honest conviction, though the difficulties and arguments against such heresy are certainly most weighty. letter . to c. lyell. november th [ ]. i know you like all cases of negative geological evidence being upset. i fancied that i was a most unwilling believer in negative evidence; but yet such negative evidence did seem to me so strong that in my "fossil lepadidae" i have stated, giving reasons, that i did not believe there could have existed any sessile cirripedes during the secondary ages. now, the other day bosquet of maestricht sends me a perfect drawing of a perfect chthamalus (a recent genus) from the chalk! ( / . chthamalus, a genus of cirripedia. ("a monograph on the sub-class cirripedia," by charles darwin, page . london, .) a fossil species of this genus of upper cretaceous age was named by bosquet chthamalus darwini. see "origin," edition vi., page ; also zittel, "traite de paleontologie," traduit par dr. c. barrois, volume ii., page , figure . paris, .) indeed, it is stretching a point to make it specifically distinct from our living british species. it is a genus not hitherto found in any tertiary bed. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, july th, . i am extremely much obliged to you for having so fully entered on my point. i knew i was on unsafe ground, but it proves far unsafer than i had thought. i had thought that brulle ( / . this no doubt refers to a. brulle's paper in the "comptes rendus" , of which a translation is given in the "annals and mag. of natural history," , page . in speaking of the development of the articulata, the author says "that the appendages are manifested at an earlier period of the existence of an articulate animal the more complex its degree of organisation, and vice versa that they make their appearance the later, the fewer the number of transformations which it has to undergo.") had a wider basis for his generalisation, for i made the extract several years ago, and i presume (i state it as some excuse for myself) that i doubted it, for, differently from my general habit, i have not extracted his grounds. it was meeting with barneoud's paper which made me think there might be truth in the doctrine. ( / . apparently barneoud "on the organogeny of irregular corollas," from the "comptes rendus," , as given in "annals and mag. of natural history," , page . the paper chiefly deals with the fact that in their earliest condition irregular flowers are regular. the view attributed to barneoud does not seem so definitely given in this paper as in a previous one ("ann. sc. nat." bot., tom. vi., page .) your instance of heart and brain of fish seems to me very good. it was a very stupid blunder on my part not thinking of the posterior part of the time of development. i shall, of course, not allude to this subject, which i rather grieve about, as i wished it to be true; but, alas! a scientific man ought to have no wishes, no affections--a mere heart of stone. there is only one point in your letter which at present i cannot quite follow you in: supposing that barneoud's (i do not say brulle's) remarks were true and universal--i.e., that the petals which have to undergo the greatest amount of development and modification begin to change the soonest from the simple and common embryonic form of the petal--if this were a true law, then i cannot but think that it would throw light on milne edwards' proposition that the wider apart the classes of animals are, the sooner do they diverge from the common embryonic plan--which common embryonic [plan] may be compared with the similar petals in the early bud, the several petals in one flower being compared to the distinct but similar embryos of the different classes. i much wish that you would so far keep this in mind, that whenever we meet i might hear how far you differ or concur in this. i have always looked at barneoud's and brulle's proposition as only in some degree analogous. p.s. i see in my abstract of milne edwards' paper, he speaks of "the most perfect and important organs" as being first developed, and i should have thought that this was usually synonymous with the most developed or modified. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter is chiefly of interest as showing the amount and kind of work required for darwin's conclusions on "large genera varying," which occupy no more than two or three pages in the "origin" (edition i., page ). some correspondence on the subject is given in the "life and letters," ii., pages - .) down, august nd [ ]. your handwriting always rejoices the cockles of my heart; though you have no reason to be "overwhelmed with shame," as i did not expect to hear. i write now chiefly to know whether you can tell me how to write to hermann schlagenheit (is this spelt right?) ( / . schlagintweit.), for i believe he is returned to england, and he has poultry skins for me from w. elliot of madras. i am very glad to hear that you have been tabulating some floras about varieties. will you just tell me roughly the result? do you not find it takes much time? i am employing a laboriously careful schoolmaster, who does the tabulating and dividing into two great cohorts, more carefully than i can. this being so, i should be very glad some time to have koch, webb's canaries, and ledebour, and grisebach, but i do not know even where rumelia is. i shall work the british flora with three separate floras; and i intend dividing the varieties into two classes, as asa gray and henslow give the materials, and, further, a. gray and h.c. watson have marked for me the forms, which they consider real species, but yet are very close to others; and it will be curious to compare results. if it will all hold good it is very important for me; for it explains, as i think, all classification, i.e. the quasi-branching and sub-branching of forms, as if from one root, big genera increasing and splitting up, etc., as you will perceive. but then comes in, also, what i call a principle of divergence, which i think i can explain, but which is too long, and perhaps you would not care to hear. as you have been on this subject, you might like to hear what very little is complete (for my schoolmaster has had three weeks' holidays)--only three cases as yet, i see. babington--british flora. species in genera of and (odd chance equal) in upwards have in a thousand genera of and downwards have species presenting vars. in a thousand presenting vars. / .* / . (* / . this sentence may be interpreted as follows: the number of species which present varieties are per thousand in genera of species and upwards. the result is obtained from tabulation of species.) hooker--new zealand. genera with species and with species and downwards upwards, / . / . godron--central france. with species and upwards with species and downwards / . / . i do not enter into details on omitting introduced plants and very varying genera, as rubus, salix, rosa, etc., which would make the result more in favour. i enjoyed seeing henslow extremely, though i was a good way from well at the time. farewell, my dear hooker: do not forget your visit here some time. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. on tuesday i will send off from london, whither i go on that day, ledebour's three remaining volumes, grisebach and cybele, i.e., all that i have, and most truly am i obliged to you for them. i find the rule, as yet, of the species varying most in the large genera universal, except in miquel's very brief and therefore imperfect list of the holland flora, which makes me very anxious to tabulate a fuller flora of holland. i shall remain in london till friday morning, and if quite convenient to send me two volumes of d.c. prodromus, i could take them home and tabulate them. i should think a volume with a large best known natural family, and a volume with several small broken families would be best, always supposing that the varieties are conspicuously marked in both. have you the volume published by lowe on madeira? if so and if any varieties are marked i should much like to see it, to see if i can make out anything about habitats of vars. in so small an area--a point on which i have become very curious. i fear there is no chance of your possessing forbes and hancock "british shells," a grand work, which i much wish to tabulate. very many thanks for seed of adlumia cirrhosa, which i will carefully observe. my notice in the g. ch. on kidney beans ( . "on the agency of bees in the fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers" ("gardeners' chronicle," , page ).) has brought me a curious letter from an intelligent gardener, with a most remarkable lot of beans, crossed in a marvellous manner in the first generation, like the peas sent to you by berkeley and like those experimentalised on by gartner and by wiegmann. it is a very odd case; i shall sow these seeds and see what comes up. how very odd that pollen of one form should affect the outer coats and size of the bean produced by pure species!... letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ?]. you know how i work subjects: namely, if i stumble on any general remark, and if i find it confirmed in any other very distinct class, then i try to find out whether it is true,--if it has any bearing on my work. the following, perhaps, may be important to me. dr. wight remarks that cucurbitaceae ( / . wight, "remarks on the fruit of the natural order cucurbitaceae" ("ann. mag. nat. hist." viii., page ). r. wight, f.r.s. ( - ) was superintendent of the madras botanic garden.) is a very isolated family, and has very diverging affinities. i find, strongly put and illustrated, the very same remark in the genera of hymenoptera. now, it is not to me at first apparent why a very distinct and isolated group should be apt to have more divergent affinities than a less isolated group. i am aware that most genera have more affinities than in two ways, which latter, perhaps, is the commonest case. i see how infinitely vague all this is; but i should very much like to know what you and mr. bentham (if he will read this), who have attended so much to the principles of classification, think of this. perhaps the best way would be to think of half a dozen most isolated groups of plants, and then consider whether the affinities point in an unusual number of directions. very likely you may think the whole question too vague to be worth consideration. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. i now want to ask your opinion, and for facts on a point; and as i shall often want to do this during the next year or two, so let me say, once for all, that you must not take trouble out of mere good nature (of which towards me you have a most abundant stock), but you must consider, in regard to the trouble any question may take, whether you think it worth while--as all loss of time so far lessens your original work--to give me facts to be quoted on your authority in my work. do not think i shall be disappointed if you cannot spare time; for already i have profited enormously from your judgment and knowledge. i earnestly beg you to act as i suggest, and not take trouble solely out of good-nature. my point is as follows: harvey gives the case of fucus varying remarkably, and yet in same way under most different conditions. d. don makes same remark in regard to juncus bufonius in england and india. polygala vulgaris has white, red, and blue flowers in faroe, england, and i think herbert says in zante. now such cases seem to me very striking, as showing how little relation some variations have to climatal conditions. do you think there are many such cases? does oxalis corniculata present exactly the same varieties under very different climates? how is it with any other british plants in new zealand, or at the foot of the himalaya? will you think over this and let me hear the result? one other question: do you remember whether the introduced sonchus in new zealand was less, equally, or more common than the aboriginal stock of the same species, where both occurred together? i forget whether there is any other case parallel with this curious one of the sonchus... i have been making good, though slow, progress with my book, for facts have been falling nicely into groups, enlightening each other. letter . to t.h. huxley. moor park, farnham, surrey [ ?]. your letter has been forwarded to me here, where i am profiting by a few weeks' rest and hydropathy. your letter has interested and amused me much. i am extremely glad you have taken up the aphis ( / . professor huxley's paper on the organic reproduction of aphis is in the "trans. linn. soc." xxii. ( ), page . prof. owen had treated the subject in his introductory hunterian lecture "on parthenogenesis" ( ). his theory cannot be fully given here. briefly, he holds that parthenogenesis is due to the inheritance of a "remnant of spermatic virtue": when the "spermatic force" or "virtue" is exhausted fresh impregnation occurs. huxley severely criticises both owen's facts and his theory.) question, but, for heaven's sake, do not come the mild hindoo (whatever he may be) to owen; your father confessor trembles for you. i fancy owen thinks much of this doctrine of his; i never from the first believed it, and i cannot but think that the same power is concerned in producing aphides without fertilisation, and producing, for instance, nails on the amputated stump of a man's fingers, or the new tail of a lizard. by the way, i saw somewhere during the last week or so a statement of a man rearing from the same set of eggs winged and wingless aphides, which seemed new to me. does not some yankee say that the american viviparous aphides are winged? i am particularly glad that you are ruminating on the act of fertilisation: it has long seemed to me the most wonderful and curious of physiological problems. i have often and often speculated for amusement on the subject, but quite fruitlessly. do you not think that the conjugation of the diatomaceae will ultimately throw light on the subject? but the other day i came to the conclusion that some day we shall have cases of young being produced from spermatozoa or pollen without an ovule. approaching the subject from the side which attracts me most, viz., inheritance, i have lately been inclined to speculate, very crudely and indistinctly, that propagation by true fertilisation will turn out to be a sort of mixture, and not true fusion, of two distinct individuals, or rather of innumerable individuals, as each parent has its parents and ancestors. i can understand on no other view the way in which crossed forms go back to so large an extent to ancestral forms. but all this, of course, is infinitely crude. i hope to be in london in the course of this month, and there are two or three points which, for my own sake, i want to discuss briefly with you. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, september th [ ]. thanks for your very pleasant note. it amuses me to see what a bug-bear i have made myself to you; when having written some very pungent and good sentence it must be very disagreeable to have my face rise up like an ugly ghost. ( / . this probably refers to darwin's wish to moderate a certain pugnacity in huxley.) i have always suspected agassiz of superficiality and wretched reasoning powers; but i think such men do immense good in their way. see how he stirred up all europe about glaciers. by the way, lyell has been at the glaciers, or rather their effects, and seems to have done good work in testing and judging what others have done... in regard to classification and all the endless disputes about the "natural system," which no two authors define in the same way, i believe it ought, in accordance to my heterodox notions, to be simply genealogical. but as we have no written pedigrees you will, perhaps, say this will not help much; but i think it ultimately will, whenever heterodoxy becomes orthodoxy, for it will clear away an immense amount of rubbish about the value of characters, and will make the difference between analogy and homology clear. the time will come, i believe, though i shall not live to see it, when we shall have very fairly true genealogical trees of each great kingdom of nature. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. in my opinion your catalogue ( / . it appears from a letter to sir j.d. hooker (december th, ) that the reference is to the proofs of huxley's "explanatory preface to the catalogue of the palaeontological collection in the museum of practical geology," by t.h. huxley and r. etheridge, . mr. huxley appends a note at page xlix: "it should be noted that these pages were written before the appearance of mr. darwin's book on 'the origin of species'--a work which has effected a revolution in biological speculation.") is simply the very best resume, by far, on the whole science of natural history, which i have ever seen. i really have no criticisms: i agree with every word. your metaphors and explanations strike me as admirable. in many parts it is curious how what you have written agrees with what i have been writing, only with the melancholy difference for me that you put everything in twice as striking a manner as i do. i append, more for the sake of showing that i have attended to the whole than for any other object, a few most trivial criticisms. i was amused to meet with some of the arguments, which you advanced in talk with me, on classification; and it pleases me, [that] my long proses were so far not thrown away, as they led you to bring out here some good sentences. but on classification ( / . this probably refers to mr. huxley's discussion on "natural classification," a subject hardly susceptible of fruitful treatment except from an evolutionary standpoint.) i am not quite sure that i yet wholly go with you, though i agree with every word you have here said. the whole, i repeat, in my opinion is admirable and excellent. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, february th [ ]. hearty thanks for de candolle received. i have put the big genera in hand. also many thanks for your valuable remarks on the affinities of the species in great genera, which will be of much use to me in my chapter on classification. your opinion is what i had expected from what little i knew, but i much wanted it confirmed, and many of your remarks were more or less new to me and all of value. you give a poor picture of the philosophy of botany. from my ignorance, i suppose, i can hardly persuade myself that things are quite as bad as you make them,--you might have been writing remarks on ornithology! i shall meditate much on your remarks, which will also come in very useful when i write and consider my tables of big and small genera. i grieve for myself to say that watson agrees with your view, but with much doubt. i gave him no guide what your opinion was. i have written to a. gray and to x., who--i.e. the latter--on this point may be looked at as s. smith's foolometer. i am now working several of the large local floras, with leaving out altogether all the smallest genera. when i have done this, and seen what the sections of the largest genera say, and seen what the results are of range and commonness of varying species, i must come to some definite conclusion whether or not entirely to give up the ghost. i shall then show how my theory points, how the facts stand, then state the nature of your grievous assault and yield entirely or defend the case as far as i can honestly. again i thank you for your invaluable assistance. i have not felt the blow [hooker's criticisms] so much of late, as i have been beyond measure interested on the constructive instinct of the hive-bee. adios, you terrible worrier of poor theorists! letter . to j.d. hooker. down [ ?] many thanks for ledebour and still more for your letter, with its admirable resume of all your objections. it is really most kind of you to take so very much trouble about what seems to you, and probably is, mere vagaries. i will earnestly try and be cautious. i will write out my tables and conclusion, and (when well copied out) i hope you will be so kind as to read it. i will then put it by and after some months look at it with fresh eyes. i will briefly work in all your objections and watson's. i labour under a great difficulty from feeling sure that, with what very little systematic work i have done, small genera were more interesting and therefore more attracted my attention. one of your remarks i do not see the bearing of under your point of view--namely, that in monotypic genera "the variation and variability" are "much more frequently noticed" than in polytypic genera. i hardly like to ask, but this is the only one of your arguments of which i do not see the bearing; and i certainly should be very glad to know. i believe i am the slowest (perhaps the worst) thinker in england; and i now consequently fully admit the full hostility of urticaceae, which i will give in my tables. i will make no remarks on your objections, as i do hope you will read my ms., which will not cost you much trouble when fairly copied out. from my own experience, i hardly believe that the most sagacious observers, without counting, could have predicted whether there were more or fewer recorded varieties in large or small genera; for i found, when actually making the list, that i could never strike a balance in my mind,--a good many varieties occurring together, in small or in large genera, always threw me off the balance... p.s.--i have just thought that your remark about the much variation of monotypic genera was to show me that even in these, the smallest genera, there was much variability. if this be so, then do not answer; and i will so understand it. letter . to j.d. hooker. february rd [ ]. will you think of some of the largest genera with which you are well acquainted, and then suppose / of the species utterly destroyed and unknown in the sections (as it were) as much as possible in the centre of such great genera. then would the remaining / of the species, forming a few sections, be, according to the general practice of average good botanists, ranked as distinct genera? of course they would in that case be closely related genera. the question, in fact, is, are all the species in a gigantic genus kept together in that genus, because they are really so very closely similar as to be inseparable? or is it because no chasms or boundaries can be drawn separating the many species? the question might have been put for orders. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, february th [ ]. i should be very much obliged for your opinion on the enclosed. you may remember in the three first volumes tabulated, all orders went right except labiatae. by the way, if by any extraordinary chance you have not thrown away the scrap of paper with former results, i wish you would return it, for i have lost my copy, and i shall have all the division to do again; but do not hunt for it, for in any case i should have gone over the calculation again. now i have done the three other volumes. you will see that all species in the six volumes together go right, and likewise all orders in the three last volumes, except verbenaceae. is not verbenaceae very closely allied to labiatae? if so, one would think that it was not mere chance, this coincidence. the species in labiatae and verbenaceae together are between / and / of all the species ( , ), which i have now tabulated. now, bearing in mind the many local floras which i have tabulated (belting the whole northern hemisphere), and considering that they (and authors of d.c. prodromus) would probably take different degrees of care in recording varieties, and the genera would be divided on different principles by different men, etc., i am much surprised at the uniformity of the result, and i am satisfied that there must be truth in the rule that the small genera vary less than the large. what do you think? hypothetically i can conjecture how the labiatae might fail--namely, if some small divisions of the order were now coming into importance in the world and varying much and making species. this makes me want to know whether you could divide the labiatae into a few great natural divisions, and then i would tabulate them separately as sub-orders. i see lindley makes so many divisions that there would not be enough in each for an average. i send the table of the labiatae for the chance of your being able to do this for me. you might draw oblique lines including and separating both large and small genera. i have also divided all the species into two equal masses, and my rule holds good for all the species in a mass in the six volumes; but it fails in several (four) large orders--viz. labiatae, scrophulariaceae, acanthaceae, and proteaceae. but, then, when the species are divided into two almost exactly equal divisions, the divisions with large genera are so very few: for instance, in solanaceae, solanum balances all others. in labiatae seven gigantic genera balance all others (viz. ), and in proteaceae five genera balance all others. now, according to my hypothetical notions, i am far from supposing that all genera go on increasing forever, and therefore i am not surprised at this result, when the division is so made that only a very few genera are on one side. but, according to my notions, the sections or sub-genera of the gigantic genera ought to obey my rule (i.e., supposing a gigantic genus had come to its maximum, whatever increase was still going on ought to be going on in the larger sub-genera). do you think that the sections of the gigantic genera in d.c. prodromus are generally natural: i.e. not founded on mere artificial characters? if you think that they are generally made as natural as they can be, then i should like very much to tabulate the sub-genera, considering them for the time as good genera. in this case, and if you do not think me unreasonable to ask it, i should be very glad of the loan of volumes x., xi., xii., and xiv., which include acanthaceae, scrophulariaceae, labiatae, and proteaceae,--that is, the orders which, when divided quite equally, do not accord with my rule, and in which a very few genera balance all the others. i have written you a tremendous long prose. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, june th [ ]. i am confined to the sofa with boils, so you must let me write in pencil. you would laugh if you could know how much your note pleased me. i had the firmest conviction that you would say all my ms. was bosh, and thank god, you are one of the few men who dare speak the truth. though i should not have much cared about throwing away what you have seen, yet i have been forced to confess to myself that all was much alike, and if you condemned that you would condemn all my life's work, and that i confess made me a little low; but i could have borne it, for i have the conviction that i have honestly done my best. the discussion comes in at the end of the long chapter on variation in a state of nature, so that i have discussed, as far as i am able, what to call varieties. i will try to leave out all allusion to genera coming in and out in this part, till when i discuss the "principle of divergence," which, with "natural selection," is the keystone of my book; and i have very great confidence it is sound. i would have this discussion copied out, if i could really think it would not bore you to read,--for, believe me, i value to the full every word of criticism from you, and the advantage which i have derived from you cannot be told... i am glad to hear that poor old brown is dying so easily... you will think it paltry, but as i was asked to pay for printing the diploma [from a society of which he had been made an honorary member], i did not like to refuse, so i send pound. but i think it a shabby proceeding. if a gentleman did me some service, though unasked to do it, and then demanded payment, i should pay him, and think him a shabby dog; and on this principle i send my pound. ( / . the following four letters refer to an inquiry instituted in by the trustees of the british museum as to the disposal of the natural history collections. the inquiry was one of the first steps towards the establishment of the cromwell road museum, which was effected in .) letter . to r.i. murchison. down, june th [ ]. i have just received your note. unfortunately i cannot attend at the british museum on monday. i do not suppose my opinion on the subject of your note can be of any value, as i have not much considered the subject, or had the advantage of discussing it with other naturalists. but my impression is, that there is much weight in what you say about not breaking up the natural history collection of the british museum. i think a national collection ought to be in london. i can, however, see that some weighty arguments might be advanced in favour of kew, owing to the immense value of sir w. hooker's collection and library; but these are private property, and i am not aware that there is any certainty of their always remaining at kew. had this been the case, i should have thought that the botanical collection might have been removed there without endangering the other branches of the collections. but i think it would be the greatest evil which could possibly happen to natural science in this country if the other collections were ever to be removed from the british museum and library. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . the memorial referred to in the following letter was addressed on november th to the chancellor of the exchequer. it was signed by huxley, bentham, w.h. harvey, henfrey, henslow, lindley, busk, carpenter, and darwin. the memorial, which is accessible, as published in the "gardeners' chronicle," november th, , page , recommended, speaking generally, the consolidation of the national botanical collections at kew. in february, , a committee was appointed by the lords commissioners of the treasury "to consider the present arrangements under which botanical work is done and collections maintained by the trustees of the british museum, and under the first commissioner of works at kew, respectively; and to report what changes (if any) in those arrangements are necessary or desirable in order to avoid duplication of work and collections at the two institutions." the committee published their report in march, , recommending an arrangement similar to that proposed in .) down, october rd [ ]. the names which you give as supporting your memorial make me quite distrust my own judgment; but, as i must say yea or nay, i am forced to say that i doubt the wisdom of the movement, and am not willing at present to sign. my reasons, perhaps of very little value, are as follows. the governing classes are thoroughly unscientific, and the men of art and of archaeology have much greater weight with government than we have. if we make a move to separate from the british museum, i cannot but fear that we may go to the dogs. i think we owe our position in large part to the hundreds of thousands of people who visit the british museum, attracted by the heterogeneous mixture of objects. if we lost this support, as i think we should--for a mere collection of animals does not seem very attractive to the masses (judging from the museum of the zoological society, formerly in leicester square)--then i do not think we should get nearly so much aid from government. therefore i should be inclined to stick to the mummies and assyrian gods as long as we could. if we knew that government was going to turn us out, then, and not till then, i should be inclined to make an energetic move. if we were to separate, i do not believe that we should have funds granted for the many books required for occasional reference: each man must speak from his own experience. i have so repeatedly required to see old transactions and old travels, etc., that i should regret extremely, when at work at the british museum, to be separated from the entire library. the facilities for working at certain great classes--as birds, large fossils, etc.--are no doubt as bad as possible, or rather impossible, on the open days; but i have found the working rooms of the assistants very convenient for all other classes on all days. in regard to the botanical collections, i am too ignorant to express any opinion. the point seems to be how far botanists would object to travel to kew; but there are evidently many great advantages in the transportation. if i had my own way, i would make the british museum collection only a typical one for display, which would be quite as amusing and far more instructive to the populace (and i think to naturalists) than the present enormous display of birds and mammals. i would save expense of stuffing, and would keep all skins, except a few "typicals," in drawers. thus much room would be saved, and a little more space could be given to real workers, who could work all day. rooms fitted up with thousands of drawers would cost very little. with this i should be contented. until i had pretty sure information that we were going to be turned out, i would not stir in the matter. with such opponents as you name, i daresay i am quite wrong; but this is my best, though doubtful, present judgment... it seems to me dangerous even to hint at a new scientific museum--a popular museum, and to subsidise the zoological gardens; it would, i think, frighten any government. letter . to j.d. hooker. moor park, farnham, surrey [october] th [ ]. as you say that you have good private information that government does intend to remove the collection from the british museum, the case to me individually is wholly changed; and as the memorial now stands, with such expression at its head, i have no objection whatever to sign. i must express a very strong opinion that it would be an immense evil to remove to kensington, not on account of the men of science so much as for the masses in the whole eastern and central part of london. i further think it would be a great evil to separate a typical collection (which i can by no means look at as only popular) from the collection in full. might not some expression be added, even stronger than those now used, on the display (which is a sort of vanity in the curators) of such a vast number of birds and mammals, with such a loss of room. i am low at the conviction that government will never give money enough for a really good library. i do not want to be crotchety, but i should hate signing without some expression about the site being easily accessible to the populace of the whole of london. i repeat, as things now stand, i shall be proud to sign. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, november rd [ ]. i most entirely subscribe to all you say in your note. i have had some correspondence with hooker on the subject. as it seems certain that a movement in the british museum is generally anticipated, my main objection is quite removed; and, as i have told hooker, i have no objection whatever to sign a memorial of the nature of the one he sent me or that now returned. both seem to me very good. i cannot help being fearful whether government will ever grant money enough for books. i can see many advantages in not being under the unmotherly wing of art and archaeology, and my only fear was that we were not strong enough to live without some protection, so profound, i think, is the contempt for and ignorance of natural science amongst the gentry of england. hooker tells me that i should be converted into favour of kensington gore if i heard all that could be said in its favour; but i cannot yet help thinking so western a locality a great misfortune. has lyell been consulted? his would be a powerful name, and such names go for much with our ignorant governors. you seem to have taken much trouble in the business, and i honour you for it. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. i am quite delighted to hear about the copley and lyell. ( / . the copley medal of the royal society was awarded to lyell in .) i have grown hot with indignation many times thinking of the way the proposal was met last year, according to your account of it. i am also very glad to hear of hancock (albany hancock received a royal medal in .); it will show the provincials are not neglected. altogether the medals are capital. i shall be proud and bound to help in any way about the eloge, which is rather a heavy tax on proposers of medals, as i found about richardson and westwood; but lyell's case will be twenty times as difficult. i will begin this very evening dotting down a few remarks on lyell; though, no doubt, most will be superfluous, and several would require deliberate consideration. anyhow, such notes may be a preliminary aid to you; i will send them in a few days' time, and will do anything else you may wish... p.s.--i have had a letter from henslow this morning. he comes here on [thursday] th, and i shall be delighted to see him; but it stops my coming to the club, as i had arranged to do, and now i suppose i shall not be in london till december th, if odds and ends do not compel me to come sooner. of course i have not said a word to henslow of my change of plans. i had looked forward with pleasure to a chat with you and others. p.s. .--i worked all yesterday evening in thinking, and have written the paper sent by this post this morning. not one sentence would do, but it is the sort of rough sketch which i should have drawn out if i had had to do it. god knows whether it will at all aid you. it is miserably written, with horridly bad metaphors, probably horrid bad grammar. it is my deliberate impression, such as i should have written to any friend who had asked me what i thought of lyell's merits. i will do anything else which you may wish, or that i can. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. i have had this copied to save you trouble, as it was vilely written, and is now vilely expressed. your letter has interested me greatly; but how inextricable are the subjects which we are discussing! i do not think i said that i thought the productions of asia were higher ( / . on the use of the terms "higher" and "lower" see letters and .) than those of australia. i intend carefully to avoid this expression ( / . in a paper of pencilled notes pinned into darwin's copy of the "vestiges" occur the words: "never use the word (sic) higher and lower."), for i do not think that any one has a definite idea what is meant by higher, except in classes which can loosely be compared with man. on our theory of natural selection, if the organisms of any area belonging to the eocene or secondary periods were put into competition with those now existing in the same area (or probably in any part of the world) they (i.e. the old ones) would be beaten hollow and be exterminated; if the theory be true, this must be so. in the same manner, i believe, a greater number of the productions of asia, the largest territory in the world, would beat those of australia, than conversely. so it seems to be between europe and north america, for i can hardly believe in the difference of the stream of commerce causing so great a difference in the proportions of immigrants. but this sort of highness (i wish i could invent some expression, and must try to do so) is different from highness in the common acceptation of the word. it might be connected with degradation of organisation: thus the blind degraded worm-like snake (typhlops) might supplant the true earthworm. here then would be degradation in the class, but certainly increase in the scale of organisation in the general inhabitants of the country. on the other hand, it would be quite as easy to believe that true earthworms might beat out the typhlops. i do not see how this "competitive highness" can be tested in any way by us. and this is a comfort to me when mentally comparing the silurian and recent organisms. not that i doubt a long course of "competitive highness" will ultimately make the organisation higher in every sense of the word; but it seems most difficult to test it. look at the erigeron canadensis on the one hand and anacharis ( / . anacharis (elodea canadensis) and erigeron canadensis are both successful immigrants from america.) on the other; these plants must have some advantage over european productions, to spread as they have. yet who could discover it? monkeys can co-exist with sloths and opossums, orders at the bottom of the scale; and the opossums might well be beaten by placental insectivores, coming from a country where there were no monkeys, etc. i should be sorry to give up the view that an old and very large continuous territory would generally produce organisms higher in the competitive sense than a smaller territory. i may, of course, be quite wrong about the plants of australia (and your facts are, of course, quite new to me on their highness), but when i read the accounts of the immense spreading of european plants in australia, and think of the wool and corn brought thence to europe, and not one plant naturalised, i can hardly avoid the suspicion that europe beats australia in its productions. if many (i.e. more than one or two) australian plants are truly naturalised in india (n.b. naturalisation on indian mountains hardly quite fair, as mountains are small islands in the land) i must strike my colours. i should be glad to hear whether what i have written very obscurely on this point produces any effect on you; for i want to clear my mind, as perhaps i should put a sentence or two in my abstract on this subject. ( / . abstract was darwin's name for the "origin" during parts of and .) i have always been willing to strike my colours on former immense tracts of land in oceans, if any case required it in an eminent degree. perhaps yours may be a case, but at present i greatly prefer land in the antarctic regions, where now there is only ice and snow, but which before the glacial period might well have been clothed by vegetation. you have thus to invent far less land, and that more central; and aid is got by floating ice for transporting seed. i hope i shall not weary you by scribbling my notions at this length. after writing last to you i began to think that the malay land might have existed through part of the glacial epoch. why i at first doubted was from the difference of existing mammals in different islands; but many are very close, and some identical in the islands, and i am constantly deceiving myself from thinking of the little change which the shells and plants, whilst all co-existing in their own northern hemisphere, have undergone since the glacial epoch; but i am convinced that this is most false reasoning, for the relations of organism to new organisms, when thrown together, are by far the most important. when you speak of plants having undergone more change since old geological periods than animals, are you not rather comparing plants with higher animals? think how little some, indeed many, mollusca have changed. remember silurian nautilus, lingula and other brachiopods, and nucula, and amongst echinoderms, the silurian asterias, etc. what you say about lowness of brackish-water plants interests me. i remember that they are apt to be social (i.e. many individuals in comparison to specific forms), and i should be tempted to look at this as a case of a very small area, and consequently of very few individuals in comparison with those on the land or in pure fresh-water; and hence less development (odious word!) than on land or fresh-water. but here comes in your two-edged sword! i should like much to see any paper on plants of brackish water or on the edge of the sea; but i suppose such has never been published. thanks about nelumbium, for i think this was the very plant which from the size of seed astonished me, and which a. de candolle adduced as a marvellous case of almost impossible transport. i now find to my surprise that herons do feed sometimes on [illegible] fruit; and grebes on seeds of compositae. many thanks for offer of help about a grant for the abstract; but i should hope it would sell enough to pay expenses. i am reading your letter and scribbling as i go on. your oak and chestnut case seems very curious; is it not the more so as beeches have gone to, or come from the south? but i vehemently protest against you or any one making such cases especial marvels, without you are prepared to say why each species in any flora is twice or thrice, etc., rarer than each other species which grows in the same soil. the more i think, the more evident is it to me how utterly ignorant we are of the thousand contingencies on which range, frequency, and extinction of each species depend. i have sometimes thought, from edentata ( / . no doubt a slip of the pen for monotremata.) and marsupialia, that australia retains a remnant of the former and ancient state of the fauna of the world, and i suppose that you are coming to some such conclusion for plants; but is not the relation between the cape and australia too special for such views? i infer from your writings that the relation is too special between fuegia and australia to allow us to look at the resemblances in certain plants as the relics of mundane resemblances. on the other hand, [have] not the sandwich islands in the northern hemisphere some odd relations to australia? when we are dead and gone what a noble subject will be geographical distribution! you may say what you like, but you will never convince me that i do not owe you ten times as much as you can owe me. farewell, my dear hooker. i am sorry to hear that you are both unwell with influenza. do not bother yourself in answering anything in this, except your general impression on the battle between n. and s. chapter .iii.--evolution, - . letter . to a.r. wallace. down, april th, . i this morning received your pleasant and friendly note of november th. the first part of my ms. is in murray's hands to see if he likes to publish it. there is no preface, but a short introduction, which must be read by every one who reads my book. the second paragraph in the introduction ( / . "origin of species," edition i., , pages and .) i have had copied verbatim from my foul copy, and you will, i hope, think that i have fairly noticed your paper in the "linn. journal." ( / . "on the tendency of species to form varieties, and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection." by charles darwin and alfred russell wallace. communicated by sir charles lyell and j.d. hooker. "journ. linn. soc." volume iii., page , . (read july st, .)) you must remember that i am now publishing only an abstract, and i give no references. i shall, of course, allude to your paper on distribution ( / . "on the law which has regulated the introduction of new species" (a.r. wallace). "ann. mag. nat. hist." volume xvi., page , . the law alluded to is thus stated by wallace: "every species has come into existence coincident both in space and time with a pre-existing closely allied species" (loc. cit., page ).); and i have added that i know from correspondence that your explanation of your law is the same as that which i offer. you are right, that i came to the conclusion that selection was the principle of change from the study of domesticated productions; and then, reading malthus, i saw at once how to apply this principle. geographical distribution and geological relations of extinct to recent inhabitants of south america first led me to the subject: especially the case of the galapagos islands. i hope to go to press in the early part of next month. it will be a small volume of about five hundred pages or so. i will of course send you a copy. i forget whether i told you that hooker, who is our best british botanist and perhaps the best in the world, is a full convert, and is now going immediately to publish his confession of faith; and i expect daily to see proof-sheets. ( / . "the flora of australia, etc., an introductory essay to the flora of tasmania." london .) huxley is changed, and believes in mutation of species: whether a convert to us, i do not quite know. we shall live to see all the younger men converts. my neighbour and an excellent naturalist, j. lubbock, is an enthusiastic convert. i see that you are doing great work in the archipelago; and most heartily do i sympathise with you. for god's sake take care of your health. there have been few such noble labourers in the cause of natural science as you are. p.s. you cannot tell how i admire your spirit, in the manner in which you have taken all that was done about publishing all our papers. i had actually written a letter to you, stating that i would not publish anything before you had published. i had not sent that letter to the post when i received one from lyell and hooker, urging me to send some ms. to them, and allow them to act as they thought fair and honestly to both of us; and i did so. ( / . the following is the passage from the introduction to the "origin of species," referred to in the first paragraph of the above letter.) "my work is now nearly finished; but as it will take me two or three years more to complete it, and as my health is far from strong, i have been urged to publish this abstract. i have more especially been induced to do this, as mr. wallace, who is now studying the natural history of the malay archipelago, has arrived at almost exactly the same general conclusions that i have on the origin of species. last year he sent to me a memoir on this subject, with a request that i would forward it to sir charles lyell, who sent it to the linnean society, and it is published in the third volume of the journal of that society. sir c. lyell and dr. hooker, who both knew of my work--the latter having read my sketch of --honoured me by thinking it advisable to publish, with mr. wallace's excellent memoir, some brief extracts from my manuscripts." letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may rd, . with respect to reversion, i have been raking up vague recollections of vague facts; and the impression on my mind is rather more in favour of reversion than it was when you were here. in my abstract ( / . "the origin of species.") i give only a paragraph on the general case of reversion, though i enter in detail on some cases of reversion of a special character. i have not as yet put all my facts on this subject in mass, so can come to no definite conclusion. but as single characters may revert, i must say that i see no improbability in several reverting. as i do not believe any well-founded experiments or facts are known, each must form his opinion from vague generalities. i think you confound two rather distinct considerations; a variation arises from any cause, and reversion is not opposed to this, but solely to its inheritance. not but what i believe what we must call perhaps a dozen distinct laws are all struggling against each other in every variation which ever arises. to give my impression, if i were forced to bet whether or not, after a hundred generations of growth in a poor sandy soil, a cauliflower and red cabbage would or would not revert to the same form, i must say i would rather stake my money that they would. but in such a case the conditions of life are changed (and here comes the question of direct influence of condition), and there is to be no selection, the comparatively sudden effect of man's selection are left to the free play of reversion. in short, i dare not come to any conclusion without comparing all facts which i have collected, and i do not think there are many. please do not say to any one that i thought my book on species would be fairly popular and have a fairly remunerative sale (which was the height of my ambition), for if it prove a dead failure it would make me the more ridiculous. letter . to w.h. miller. down, june th [ ]. i thank you much for your letter. had i seen the interest of my remark i would have made many more measurements, though i did make several. i stated the facts merely to give the general reader an idea of the thickness of the walls. ( / . the walls of bees' cells: see letter .) especially if i had seen that the fact had any general bearing, i should have stated that as far as i could measure, the walls are by no means perfectly of the same thickness. also i should have stated that the chief difference is when the thickness of walls of the upper part of the hexagon and of the pyramidal basal plates are contrasted. will you oblige me by looking with a strong lens at the bit of comb, brushing off with a knife the upper thickened edges, and then compare, by eye alone, the thickness of the walls there with the thickness of the basal plates, as seen in any cross section. i should very much like to hear whether, even in this way, the difference is not perceptible. it is generally thus perceptible by comparing the thickness of the walls of the hexagon (if not taken very close to the angle) near to the basal plates, where the comparison by eye is of course easier. your letter actually turned me sick with panic; from not seeing any great importance [in the] fact, till i looked at my notes, i did not remember that i made several measurements. i have now repeated the same measurements, roughly with the same general results, but the difference, i think, is hardly double. i should not have mentioned the thickness of the basal plates at all, had i not thought it would give an unfair notion of the thickness of the walls to state the lesser measurements alone. letter . to w.h. miller. [ ] i had no thought that you would measure the thickness of the walls of the cells; but if you will, and allow me to give your measurements, it will be an immense advantage. as it is no trouble, i send more specimens. if you measure, please observe that i measured the thickness of the walls of the hexagonal prisms not very near the base; but from your very interesting remarks the lower part of the walls ought to be measured. thank you for the suggestion about how bees judge of angles and distances. i will keep it in mind. it is a complete perplexity to me, and yet certainly insects can rudely somehow judge of distance. there are special difficulties on account of the gradation in size between the worker-scells and the larger drone-cells. i am trying to test the case practically by getting combs of different species, and of our own bee from different climates. i have lately had some from the w. indies of our common bee, but the cells seem certainly to be larger; but they have not yet been carefully measured. i will keep your suggestion in mind whenever i return to experiments on living bees; but that will not be soon. as you have been considering my little discussion in relation to lord brougham ( / . lord brougham's paper on "the mathematical structure of bees' cells," read before the national institute of france in may, .), and as i have been more vituperated for this part than for almost any other, i should like just to tell you how i think the case stands. the discussion viewed by itself is worth little more than the paper on which it is printed, except in so far as it contains three or four certainly new facts. but to those who are inclined to believe the general truth of the conclusion that species and their instincts are slowly modified by what i call natural selection, i think my discussion nearly removes a very great difficulty. i believe in its truth chiefly from the existence of the melipona, which makes a comb so intermediate in structure between that of the humble and hive-bee, and especially from the new and curious fact of the bees making smooth cups or saucers when they excavated in a thick piece of wax, which saucers stood so close that hexagons were built on their intersecting edges. and, lastly, because when they excavated on a thin slip of wax, the excavation on both sides of similar smooth basins was stopped, and flat planes left between the nearly opposed basins. if my view were wholly false these cases would, i think, never have occurred. sedgwick and co. may abuse me to their hearts' content, but i shall as yet continue to think that mine is a rational explanation (as far as it goes) of their method of work. letter . to w.h. miller. down, december st [ ]. some months ago you were so kind as to say you would measure the thickness of the walls of the basal and side plates of the cell of the bee. could you find time to do so soon? why i want it soon, is that i have lately heard from murray that he sold at his sale far more copies than he has of the "origin of species," and that i must immediately prepare a new edition, which i am now correcting. by the way, i hear from murray that all the attacks heaped on my book do not seem to have at all injured the sale, which will make poor dear old sedgwick groan. if the basal plates and walls do differ considerably in thickness, as they certainly did in the one or two cells which i measured without particular care (as i never thought the point of any importance), will you tell me the bearing of the fact as simply as you can, for the chance of one so stupid as i am in geometry being able to understand? would the greater thickness of the basal plates and of the rim of the hexagons be a good adaptation to carry the vertical weight of the cells filled with honey and supporting clusters of living bees? will you endeavour to screw out time and grant me this favour? p.s. if the result of your measurement of the thickness of the walls turns out at all what i have asserted, would it not be worth while to write a little bit of a paper on the subject of your former note; and "pluck" the bees if they deserve this degradation? many mathematicians seem to have thought the subject worthy of attention. when the cells are full of honey and hang vertically they have to support a great weight. can the thicker basal plates be a contrivance to give strength to the whole comb, with less consumption of wax, than if all the sides of the hexagons were thickened? this crude notion formerly crossed my mind; but of course it is beyond me even to conjecture how the case would be. a mathematician, mr. wright, has been writing on the geometry of bee-cells in the united states in consequence of my book; but i can hardly understand his paper. ( / . chauncey wright, "remarks on the architecture of bees" ("amer. acad. proc." iv., - , page .) letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . the date of this letter is unfortunately doubtful, otherwise it would prove that at an early date he was acquainted with erasmus darwin's views on evolution, a fact which has not always been recognised. we can hardly doubt that it was written in , for at this time mr. huxley was collecting facts about breeding for his lecture given at the royal institution on february th, , on "species and races and their origin." see "life and letters," ii., page .) down [june?] [ ?]. if on the th you have half an hour to spare, you might like to see a very good show of pigeons, and the enclosed card will admit you. the history of error is quite unimportant, but it is curious to observe how exactly and accurately my grandfather (in "zoonomia," volume i., page , ) gives lamarck's theory. i will quote one sentence. speaking of birds' beaks, he says: "all which seem to have been gradually produced during many generations by the perpetual endeavour of the creatures to supply the want of food, and to have been delivered to their posterity with constant improvement of them for the purposes required." lamarck published "hist. zoolog." in . the "zoonomia" was translated into many languages. letter . to c. lyell. down, [june ]. it is not worth while troubling you, but my conscience is uneasy at having forgotten to thank you for your "etna" ( / . "on the structure of lavas which have been consolidated on steep slopes, with remarks on the mode of origin of mount etna, and on the theory of 'craters of elevation'" ("phil. trans. r. soc." volume cxlviii., , page ).), which seems to me a magnificent contribution to volcanic geology, and i should think you might now rest on your oars in this department. as soon as ever i can get a copy of my book ( / . "the origin of species," london, .) ready, in some six weeks' or two months' time, it shall be sent you; and if you approve of it, even to a moderate extent, it will be the highest satisfaction which i shall ever receive for an amount of labour which no one will ever appreciate. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the reference in the following letter is to the proofs of hooker's "australian flora.") down, [july ]. the returned sheet is chiefly that which i received in ms. parts seem to me (though perhaps it may be forgetfulness) much improved, and i retain my former impression that the whole discussion on the australian flora is admirably good and original. i know you will understand and not object to my thus expressing my opinion (for one must form one) so presumptuously. i have no criticisms, except perhaps i should like you somewhere to say, when you refer to me, that you refer only to the notice in the "linnean journal;" not that, on my deliberate word of honour, i expect that you will think more favourably of the whole than of the suggestion in the "journal." i am far more than satisfied at what you say of my work; yet it would be as well to avoid the appearance of your remarks being a criticism on my fuller work. i am very sorry to hear you are so hard-worked. i also get on very slowly, and have hardly as yet finished half my volume...i returned on last tuesday from a week's hydropathy. take warning by me, and do not work too hard. for god's sake, think of this. it is dreadfully uphill work with me getting my confounded volume finished. i wish you well through all your labours. adios. letter . to asa gray. down, november th [ ]. this shall be such an extraordinary note as you have never received from me, for it shall not contain one single question or request. i thank you for your impression on my views. every criticism from a good man is of value to me. what you hint at generally is very, very true: that my work will be grievously hypothetical, and large parts by no means worthy of being called induction, my commonest error being probably induction from too few facts. i had not thought of your objection of my using the term "natural selection" as an agent. i use it much as a geologist does the word denudation--for an agent, expressing the result of several combined actions. i will take care to explain, not merely by inference, what i mean by the term; for i must use it, otherwise i should incessantly have to expand it into some such (here miserably expressed) formula as the following: "the tendency to the preservation (owing to the severe struggle for life to which all organic beings at some time or generation are exposed) of any, the slightest, variation in any part, which is of the slightest use or favourable to the life of the individual which has thus varied; together with the tendency to its inheritance." any variation, which was of no use whatever to the individual, would not be preserved by this process of "natural selection." but i will not weary you by going on, as i do not suppose i could make my meaning clearer without large expansion. i will only add one other sentence: several varieties of sheep have been turned out together on the cumberland mountains, and one particular breed is found to succeed so much better than all the others that it fairly starves the others to death. i should here say that natural selection picks out this breed, and would tend to improve it, or aboriginally to have formed it... you speak of species not having any material base to rest on, but is this any greater hardship than deciding what deserves to be called a variety, and be designated by a greek letter? when i was at systematic work, i know i longed to have no other difficulty (great enough) than deciding whether the form was distinct enough to deserve a name, and not to be haunted with undefined and unanswerable questions whether it was a true species. what a jump it is from a well-marked variety, produced by natural cause, to a species produced by the separate act of the hand of god! but i am running on foolishly. by the way, i met the other day phillips, the palaeontologist, and he asked me, "how do you define a species?" i answered, "i cannot." whereupon he said, "at last i have found out the only true definition,--any form which has ever had a specific name!"... letter . to c. lyell. ilkley, october st [ ]. that you may not misunderstand how far i go with pallas and his many disciples i should like to add that, though i believe that our domestic dogs have descended from several wild forms, and though i must think that the sterility, which they would probably have evinced, if crossed before being domesticated, has been eliminated, yet i go but a very little way with pallas & co. in their belief in the importance of the crossing and blending of the aboriginal stocks. ( / . "with our domesticated animals, the various races when crossed together are quite fertile; yet in many cases they are descended from two or more wild species. from this fact we must conclude either that the aboriginal parent-species at first produced perfectly fertile hybrids, or that the hybrids subsequently reared under domestication became quite fertile. this latter alternative, which was first propounded by pallas, seems by far the most probable, and can, indeed, hardly be doubted" ("origin of species," edition vi., page ).) you will see this briefly put in the first chapter. generally, with respect to crossing, the effects may be diametrically opposite. if you cross two very distinct races, you may make (not that i believe such has often been made) a third and new intermediate race; but if you cross two exceedingly close races, or two slightly different individuals of the same race, then in fact you annul and obliterate the difference. in this latter way i believe crossing is all-important, and now for twenty years i have been working at flowers and insects under this point of view. i do not like hooker's terms, centripetal and centrifugal ( / . hooker's "introductory essay to the flora of tasmania," pages viii. and ix.): they remind me of forbes' bad term of polarity. ( / . forbes, "on the manifestation of polarity in the distribution of organised beings in time."--"r. institution proc." i., - .) i daresay selection by man would generally work quicker than natural selection; but the important distinction between them is, that man can scarcely select except external and visible characters, and secondly, he selects for his own good; whereas under nature, characters of all kinds are selected exclusively for each creature's own good, and are well exercised; but you will find all this in chapter iv. although the hound, greyhound, and bull-dog may possibly have descended from three distinct stocks, i am convinced that their present great amount of difference is mainly due to the same causes which have made the breeds of pigeons so different from each other, though these breeds of pigeons have all descended from one wild stock; so that the pallasian doctrine i look at as but of quite secondary importance. in my bigger book i have explained my meaning fully; whether i have in the abstract i cannot remember. letter . to c. lyell. [december th, .] i forget whether you take in the "times;" for the chance of your not doing so, i send the enclosed rich letter. ( / . see the "times," december st and december th, : two letters signed "senex," dealing with "works of art in the drift.") it is, i am sure, by fitz-roy...it is a pity he did not add his theory of the extinction of mastodon, etc., from the door of the ark being made too small. ( / . a postscript to this letter, here omitted, is published in the "life and letters," ii., page .) letter . francis galton to charles darwin. , rutland gate, london, s.w., december th, . pray let me add a word of congratulation on the completion of your wonderful volume, to those which i am sure you will have received from every side. i have laid it down in the full enjoyment of a feeling that one rarely experiences after boyish days, of having been initiated into an entirely new province of knowledge, which, nevertheless, connects itself with other things in a thousand ways. i hear you are engaged on a second edition. there is a trivial error in page , about rhinoceroses ( / . down (loc. cit.) says that neither the elephant nor the rhinoceros is destroyed by beasts of prey. mr. galton wrote that the wild dogs hunt the young rhinoceros and "exhaust them to death; they pursue them all day long, tearing at their ears, the only part their teeth can fasten on." the reference to the rhinoceros is omitted in later editions of the "origin."), which i thought i might as well point out, and have taken advantage of the same opportunity to scrawl down half a dozen other notes, which may, or may not, be worthless to you. ( / . the three next letters refer to huxley's lecture on evolution, given at the royal institution on february th, , of which the peroration is given in "life and letters," ii., page , together with some letters on the subject.) letter . to t.h. huxley. november th [ ]. i rejoice beyond measure at the lecture. i shall be at home in a fortnight, when i could send you splendid folio coloured drawings of pigeons. would this be in time? if not, i think i could write to my servants and have them sent to you. if i do not hear i shall understand that about fifteen or sixteen days will be in time. i have had a kind yet slashing letter against me from poor dear old sedgwick, "who has laughed till his sides ached at my book." phillips is cautious, but decidedly, i fear, hostile. hurrah for the lecture--it is grand! letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. i have got fine large drawings ( / . for mr. huxley's r.i. lecture.) of the pouter, carrier, and tumbler; i have only drawings in books of fantails, barbs, and scanderoon runts. if you had them, you would have a grand display of extremes of diversity. will they pay at the royal institution for copying on a large size drawings of these birds? i could lend skulls of a carrier and a tumbler (to show the great difference) for the same purpose, but it would not probably be worth while. i have been looking at my ms. what you want i believe is about hybridism and breeding. the chapter on hybridism is in a pretty good state--about folio pages with notes and references on the back. my first chapter on breeding is in too bad and imperfect a state to send; but my discussion on pigeons (in about folio pages) is in a pretty good state. i am perfectly convinced that you would never have patience to read such volumes of ms. i speak now in the palace of truth, and pray do you: if you think you would read them i will send them willingly up by my servant, or bring them myself next week. but i have no copy, and i never could possibly replace them; and without you really thought that you would use them, i had rather not risk them. but i repeat i will willingly bring them, if you think you would have the vast patience to use them. please let me hear on this subject, and whether i shall send the book with small drawings of three other breeds or skulls. i have heard a rumour that busk is on our side in regard to species. is this so? it would be very good. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. i thank you for your very pleasant and amusing note and invitation to dinner, which i am sorry to say i cannot accept. i shall come up (stomach willing) on thursday for phil. club dinner, and return on saturday, and i am engaged to my brother for friday. but i should very much like to call at the museum on friday or saturday morning and see you. would you let me have one line either here or at , queen anne street, to say at what hour you generally come to the museum, and whether you will be probably there on friday or saturday? even if you are at the club, it will be a mere chance if we sit near each other. i will bring up the articles on thursday afternoon, and leave them under charge of the porter at the museum. they will consist of large drawings of a pouter, a carrier, and rather smaller drawings of some sub-varieties (which breed nearly true) of short-faced tumblers. also a small drawing of scanderoon, a kind of runt, and a very remarkable breed. also a book with very moderately good drawings of fantail and barb, but i very much doubt whether worth the trouble of enlarging. also a box (for heaven's sake, take care!) with a skull of carrier and short-faced tumbler; also lower jaws (largest size) of runt, middle size of rock-pigeon, and the broad one of barb. the form of ramus of jaw differs curiously in these jaws. also ms. of hybridism and pigeons, which will just weary you to death. i will call myself for or send a servant for the ms. and bones whenever you have done with them; but do not hurry. you have hit on the exact plan, which, on the advice of lyell, murray, etc., i mean to follow--viz., bring out separate volumes in detail--and i shall begin with domestic productions; but i am determined to try and [work] very slowly, so that, if possible, i may keep in a somewhat better state of health. i had not thought of illustrations; that is capital advice. farewell, my good and admirable agent for the promulgation of damnable heresies! letter . to l. horner. down, december rd [ ]. i must have the pleasure of thanking you for your extremely kind letter. i am very much pleased that you approve of my book, and that you are going to pay me the extraordinary compliment of reading it twice. i fear that it is tough reading, but it is beyond my powers to make the subject clearer. lyell would have done it admirably. you must enjoy being a gentlemen at your ease, and i hear that you have returned with ardour to work at the geological society. we hope in the course of the winter to persuade mrs. horner and yourself and daughters to pay us a visit. ilkley did me extraordinary good during the latter part of my stay and during my first week at home; but i have gone back latterly to my bad ways, and fear i shall never be decently well and strong. p.s.--when any of your party write to mildenhall i should be much obliged if you would say to bunbury that i hope he will not forget, whenever he reads my book, his promise to let me know what he thinks about it; for his knowledge is so great and accurate that every one must value his opinions highly. i shall be quite contented if his belief in the immutability of species is at all staggered. letter . to c. lyell. ( / . in the "origin of species" a section of chapter x. is devoted to "the succession of the same types within the same areas, during the late tertiary period" (edition i., page ). mr. darwin wrote as follows: "mr. clift many years ago showed that the fossil mammals from the australian caves were closely allied to the living marsupials of that continent." after citing other instances illustrating the same agreement between fossil and recent types, mr. darwin continues: "i was so much impressed with these facts that i strongly insisted, in and , on this 'law of the succession of types,' on 'this wonderful relationship in the same continent between the dead and the living.' professor owen has subsequently extended the same generalisation to the mammals of the old world.") down, [december] th [ ]. owen wrote to me to ask for the reference to clift. as my own notes for the late chapters are all in chaos, i bethought me who was the most trustworthy man of all others to look for references, and i answered myself, "of course lyell." in the ["principles of geology"], edition of , volume iii., chapter xi., page , you will find the reference to clift in the "edinburgh new phil journal," no. xx., page . ( / . the correct reference to clift's "report" on fossil bones from new holland is "edinburgh new phil. journal," , page .) you will also find that you were greatly struck with the fact itself ( / . this refers to the discovery of recent and fossil species of animals in an australian cave-breccia. mr. clift is quoted as having identified one of the bones, which was much larger than the rest, as that of a hippopotamus.), which i had quite forgotten. i copied the passage, and sent it to owen. why i gave in some detail references to my own work is that owen (not the first occasion with respect to myself and others) quietly ignores my having ever generalised on the subject, and makes a great fuss on more than one occasion at having discovered the law of succession. in fact, this law, with the galapagos distribution, first turned my mind on the origin of species. my own references are [to the "naturalist's voyage"]: large vo, murray, edition edition page page on succession. page pages - on splitting up of old geographical provinces. long before owen published i had in ms. worked out the succession of types in the old world (as i remember telling sedgwick, who of course disbelieved it). since receiving your last letter on hooker, i have read his introduction as far as page xxiv ( / . "on the flora of australia, etc.; being an introductory essay to the flora of tasmania": london, .), where the australian flora begins, and this latter part i liked most in the proofs. it is a magnificent essay. i doubt slightly about some assertions, or rather should have liked more facts--as, for instance, in regard to species varying most on the confines of their range. naturally i doubt a little his remarks about divergence ( / . "variation is effected by graduated changes; and the tendency of varieties, both in nature and under cultivation, when further varying, is rather to depart more and more widely from the original type than to revert to it." on the margin darwin wrote: "without selection doubtful" (loc. cit., page viii).), and about domestic races being produced under nature without selection. it would take much to persuade me that a pouter pigeon, or a carrier, etc., could have been produced by the mere laws of variation without long continued selection, though each little enlargement of crop and beak are due to variation. i demur greatly to his comparison of the products of sinking and rising islands ( / . "i venture to anticipate that a study of the vegetation of the islands with reference to the peculiarities of the generic types on the one hand, and of the geological conditions (whether as rising or sinking) on the other, may, in the present state of our knowledge, advance other subjects of distribution and variation considerably" (loc. cit., page xv).); in the indian ocean he compares exclusively many rising volcanic and sinking coral islands. the latter have a most peculiar soil, and are excessively small in area, and are tenanted by very few species; moreover, such low coral islands have probably been often, during their subsidence, utterly submerged, and restocked by plants from other islands. in the pacific ocean the floras of all the best cases are unknown. the comparison ought to have been exclusively between rising and fringed volcanic islands, and sinking and encircled volcanic islands. i have read naudin ( / . naudin, "revue horticole," ?.), and hooker agrees that he does not even touch on my views. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. [ or .] i have had another talk with bentham, who is greatly agitated by your book: evidently the stern, keen intellect is aroused, and he finds that it is too late to halt between two opinions. how it will go we shall see. i am intensely interested in what we shall come to, and never broach the subject to him. i finished the geological evidence chapters yesterday; they are very fine and very striking, but i cannot see they are such forcible objections as you still hold them to be. i would say that you still in your secret soul underrate the imperfection of the geological record, though no language can be stronger or arguments fairer and sounder against it. of course i am influenced by botany, and the conviction that we have not in a fossilised condition a fraction of the plants that have existed, and that not a fraction of those we have are recognisable specifically. i never saw so clearly put the fact that it is not intermediates between existing species we want, but between these and the unknown tertium quid. you certainly make a hobby of natural selection, and probably ride it too hard; that is a necessity of your case. if the improvement of the creation-by-variation doctrine is conceivable, it will be by unburthening your theory of natural selection, which at first sight seems overstrained--i.e., to account for too much. i think, too, that some of your difficulties which you override by natural selection may give way before other explanations. but, oh lord! how little we do know and have known to be so advanced in knowledge by one theory. if we thought ourselves knowing dogs before you revealed natural selection, what d--d ignorant ones we must surely be now we do know that law. i hear you may be at the club on thursday. i hope so. huxley will not be there, so do not come on that ground. letter . to t.h. huxley. january st [ ]. i write one line merely to thank you for your pleasant note, and to say that i will keep your secret. i will shake my head as mysteriously as lord burleigh. several persons have asked me who wrote that "most remarkable article" in the "times." ( / . the "times," december th, , page . the opening paragraphs were by one of the staff of the "times." see "life and letters," ii., page , for mr. huxley's interesting account of his share in the matter.) as a cat may look at a king, so i have said that i strongly suspected you. x was so sharp that the first sentence revealed the authorship. the z's (god save the mark) thought it was owen's! you may rely on it that it has made a deep impression, and i am heartily glad that the subject and i owe you this further obligation. but for god's sake, take care of your health; remember that the brain takes years to rest, whilst the muscles take only hours. there is poor dana, to whom i used to preach by letter, writes to me that my prophecies are come true: he is in florence quite done up, can read nothing and write nothing, and cannot talk for half an hour. i noticed the "naughty sentence" ( / . mr. huxley, after speaking of the rudimental teeth of the whale, of rudimental jaws in insects which never bite, and rudimental eyes in blind animals, goes on: "and we would remind those who, ignorant of the facts, must be moved by authority, that no one has asserted the incompetence of the doctrine of final causes, in its application to physiology and anatomy, more strongly than our own eminent anatomist, professor owen, who, speaking of such cases, says ("on the nature of limbs," pages , ), 'i think it will be obvious that the principle of final adaptations fails to satisfy all the conditions of the problem.'"--"the times," december th, .) about owen, though my wife saw its bearing first. farewell you best and worst of men! that sentence about the bird and the fish dinners charmed us. lyell wrote to me--style like yours. have you seen the slashing article of december th in the "daily news," against my stealing from my "master," the author of the "vestiges?" letter . to j.l.a. de quatrefages. [undated] how i should like to know whether milne edwards has read the copy which i sent him, and whether he thinks i have made a pretty good case on our side of the question. there is no naturalist in the world for whose opinion i have so profound a respect. of course i am not so silly as to expect to change his opinion. letter . to c. lyell. ( / . the date of this letter is doubtful; but as it evidently refers to the nd edition of the "origin," which appeared on january th, , we believe that december th, , is right. the letter of sedgwick's is doubtless that given in the "life and letters," ii., page ; it is there dated december th, , but from other evidence it was probably written on november th) [december?] th [ ]. i send sedgwick's letter; it is terribly muddled, and really the first page seems almost childish. i am sadly over-worked, so will not write to you. i have worked in a number of your invaluable corrections--indeed, all as far as time permits. i infer from a letter from huxley that ramsay ( / . see a letter to huxley, november th, , "life and letters," ii., page .) is a convert, and i am extremely glad to get pure geologists, as they will be very few. many thanks for your very pleasant note. what pleasure you have given me. i believe i should have been miserable had it not been for you and a few others, for i hear threatening of attacks which i daresay will be severe enough. but i am sure that i can now bear them. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . the point here discussed is one to which mr. huxley attached great, in our opinion too great, importance.) down, january th [ ?]. i fully agree that the difficulty is great, and might be made much of by a mere advocate. will you oblige me by reading again slowly from pages to . ( / . the reference is to the "origin," edition i.: the section on "the fertility of varieties when crossed, and of their mongrel offspring" occupies pages - .) i may add to what is there said, that it seems to me quite hopeless to attempt to explain why varieties are not sterile, until we know the precise cause of sterility in species. reflect for a moment on how small and on what very peculiar causes the unequal reciprocity of fertility in the same two species must depend. reflect on the curious case of species more fertile with foreign pollen than their own. reflect on many cases which could be given, and shall be given in my larger book (independently of hybridity) of very slight changes of conditions causing one species to be quite sterile and not affecting a closely allied species. how profoundly ignorant we are on the intimate relation between conditions of life and impaired fertility in pure species! the only point which i might add to my short discussion on this subject, is that i think it probable that the want of adaptation to uniform conditions of life in our domestic varieties has played an important part in preventing their acquiring sterility when crossed. for the want of uniformity, and changes in the conditions of life, seem the only cause of the elimination of sterility (when crossed) under domestication. ( / . the meaning which we attach to this obscure sentence is as follows: species in a state of nature are closely adapted to definite conditions of life, so that the sexual constitution of species a is attuned, as it were, to a condition different from that to which b is attuned, and this leads to sterility. but domestic varieties are not strictly adapted by natural selection to definite conditions, and thus have less specialised sexual constitutions.) this elimination, though admitted by many authors, rests on very slight evidence, yet i think is very probably true, as may be inferred from the case of dogs. under nature it seems improbable that the differences in the reproductive constitution, on which the sterility of any two species when crossed depends, can be acquired directly by natural selection; for it is of no advantage to the species. such differences in reproductive constitution must stand in correlation with some other differences; but how impossible to conjecture what these are! reflect on the case of the variations of verbascum, which differ in no other respect whatever besides the fluctuating element of the colour of the flower, and yet it is impossible to resist gartner's evidence, that this difference in the colour does affect the mutual fertility of the varieties. the whole case seems to me far too mysterious to rest ( / . the word "rest" seems to be used in place of "to serve as a foundation for.") a valid attack on the theory of modification of species, though, as you say, it offers excellent ground for a mere advocate. i am surprised, considering how ignorant we are on very many points, [that] more weak parts in my book have not as yet been pointed out to me. no doubt many will be. h.c. watson founds his objection in ms. on there being no limit to infinite diversification of species: i have answered this, i think, satisfactorily, and have sent attack and answer to lyell and hooker. if this seems to you a good objection, i would send papers to you. andrew murray "disposes of" the whole theory by an ingenious difficulty from the distribution of blind cave insects ( / . see "life and letters, volume ii., page . the reference here is to murray's address before the botanical society, edinburgh. mr. darwin seems to have read murray's views only in a separate copy reprinted from the "proc. r. soc. edin." there is some confusion about the date of the paper; the separate copy is dated january th, while in the volume of the "proc. r. soc." it is february th. in the "life and letters," ii., page it is erroneously stated that these are two different papers.); but it can, i think, be fairly answered. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, [february] nd [ ]. i have had this morning a letter from old bronn ( / . see "life and letters, ii., page .) (who, to my astonishment, seems slightly staggered by natural selection), and he says a publisher in stuttgart is willing to publish a translation, and that he, bronn, will to a certain extent superintend. have you written to kolliker? if not, perhaps i had better close with this proposal--what do you think? if you have written, i must wait, and in this case will you kindly let me hear as soon as you hear from kolliker? my poor dear friend, you will curse the day when you took up the "general agency" line; but really after this i will not give you any more trouble. do not forget the three tickets for us for your lecture, and the ticket for baily, the poulterer. old bronn has published in the "year-book for mineralogy" a notice of the "origin" ( / . "neues jahrb. fur min." , page .); and says he has himself published elsewhere a foreboding of the theory! letter . to j.d. hooker. down, february th [ ]. i succeeded in persuading myself for twenty-four hours that huxley's lecture was a success. ( / . at the royal institution. see "life and letters," ii., page .) parts were eloquent and good, and all very bold; and i heard strangers say, "what a good lecture!" i told huxley so; but i demurred much to the time wasted in introductory remarks, especially to his making it appear that sterility was a clear and manifest distinction of species, and to his not having even alluded to the more important parts of the subject. he said that he had much more written out, but time failed. after conversation with others and more reflection, i must confess that as an exposition of the doctrine the lecture seems to me an entire failure. i thank god i did not think so when i saw huxley; for he spoke so kindly and magnificently of me, that i could hardly have endured to say what i now think. he gave no just idea of natural selection. i have always looked at the doctrine of natural selection as an hypothesis, which, if it explained several large classes of facts, would deserve to be ranked as a theory deserving acceptance; and this, of course, is my own opinion. but, as huxley has never alluded to my explanation of classification, morphology, embryology, etc., i thought he was thoroughly dissatisfied with all this part of my book. but to my joy i find it is not so, and that he agrees with my manner of looking at the subject; only that he rates higher than i do the necessity of natural selection being shown to be a vera causa always in action. he tells me he is writing a long review in the "westminster." it was really provoking how he wasted time over the idea of a species as exemplified in the horse, and over sir j. hall's old experiment on marble. murchison was very civil to me over my book after the lecture, in which he was disappointed. i have quite made up my mind to a savage onslaught; but with lyell, you, and huxley, i feel confident we are right, and in the long run shall prevail. i do not think asa gray has quite done you justice in the beginning of the review of me. ( / . "review of darwin's theory on the origin of species by means of natural selection," by "a.g." ("amer. jour. sci." volume xxix., page , ). in a letter to asa gray on february th, , darwin writes: "your review seems to me admirable; by far the best which i have read." ("life and letters," ii., , page .) the review seemed to me very good, but i read it very hastily. letter . to c. lyell. down, [february] th [ ]. i send by this post asa gray, which seems to me very good, with the stamp of originality on it. also bronn's "jahrbuch fur mineralogie." ( / . see letter .) the united intellect of my family has vainly tried to make it out. i never tried such confoundedly hard german; nor does it seem worth the labour. he sticks to priestley's green matter, and seems to think that till it can be shown how life arises it is no good showing how the forms of life arise. this seems to me about as logical (comparing very great things with little) as to say it was no use in newton showing the laws of attraction of gravity and the consequent movement of the planets, because he could not show what the attraction of gravity is. the expression "wahl der lebens-weise" ( / . "die fruchtbarste und allgemeinste ursache der varietaten-bildung ist jedoch die wahl der lebens-weise" (loc. cit., page ).) makes me doubt whether b. understands what i mean by natural selection, as i have told him. he says (if i understand him) that you ought to be on the same side with me. p.s. sunday afternoon.--i have kept back this to thank you for your letter, with much news, received this morning. my conscience is uneasy at the time you waste in amusing and interesting me. i was very curious to hear about phillips. the review in the "annals" is, as i was convinced, by wollaston, for i have had a very cordial letter from him this morning. ( / . a bibliographical notice "on the origin of species by means of natural selection; or the preservation of favoured races in the struggle for life." ("annals and mag." volume v., pages - , ). the notice is not signed. referring to the article, in a letter to lyell, february th, , darwin writes: "i am perfectly convinced...that the review in the "annals" is by wollaston; no one else in the world would have used so many parentheses" ("life and letters," ii., page ).) i send by this post an attack in the "gardeners' chronicle" by harvey (a first-rate botanist, as you probably know). ( / . in the "gardeners' chronicle" of february th, , w.h. harvey described a case of monstrosity in begonia frigida, which he argued was hostile to the theory of natural selection. the passage about harvey's attack was published in the "life and letters," ii., page .) it seems to me rather strange; he assumes the permanence of monsters, whereas monsters are generally sterile, and not often inheritable. but grant his case, it comes [to this], that i have been too cautious in not admitting great and sudden variations. here again comes in the mischief of my abstract. in fuller ms. i have discussed the parallel case of a normal fish like a monstrous gold-fish. i end my discussion by doubting, because all cases of monstrosities which resemble normal structures which i could find were not in allied groups. trees like aspicarpa ( / . aspicarpa, an american genus of malpighiaceae, is quoted in the "origin" (edition vi., page ) as an illustration of linnaeus' aphorism that the characters do not give the genus, but the genus gives the characters. during several years' cultivation in france aspicarpa produced only degraded flowers, which differed in many of the most important points of structure from the proper type of the order; but it was recognised by m. richard that the genus should be retained among the malpighiaceae. "this case," adds darwin, "well illustrates the spirit of our classification."), with flowers of two kinds (in the "origin"), led me also to speculate on the same subject; but i could find only one doubtfully analogous case of species having flowers like the degraded or monstrous flowers. harvey does not see that if only a few (as he supposes) of the seedlings inherited being monstrosities, natural selection would be necessary to select and preserve them. you had better return the "gardeners' chronicle," etc., to my brother's. the case of begonia ( / . harvey's criticism was answered by sir j.d. hooker in the following number of the "gardeners' chronicle" (february th, , page ).) in itself is very curious; i am tempted to answer the notice, but i will refrain, for there would be no end to answers. with respect to your objection of a multitude of still living simple forms, i have not discussed it anywhere in the "origin," though i have often thought it over. what you say about progress being only occasional and retrogression not uncommon, i agree to; only that in the animal kingdom i greatly doubt about retrogression being common. i have always put it to myself--what advantage can we see in an infusory animal, or an intestinal worm, or coral polypus, or earthworm being highly developed? if no advantage, they would not become highly developed: not but what all these animals have very complex structures (except infusoria), and they may well be higher than the animals which occupied similar places in the economy of nature before the silurian epoch. there is a blind snake with the appearances and, in some respects, habits of earthworms; but this blind snake does not tend, as far as we can see, to replace and drive out worms. i think i must in a future edition discuss a few more such points, and will introduce this and h.c. watson's objection about the infinite number of species and the general rise in organisation. but there is a directly opposite objection to yours which is very difficult to answer--viz. how at the first start of life, when there were only the simplest organisms, how did any complication of organisation profit them? i can only answer that we have not facts enough to guide any speculation on the subject. with respect to lepidosiren, ganoid fishes, perhaps ornithorhynchus, i suspect, as stated in the "origin," ( / . "origin of species" (edition vi.), page .), that they have been preserved, from inhabiting fresh-water and isolated parts of the world, in which there has been less competition and less rapid progress in natural selection, owing to the fewness of individuals which can inhabit small areas; and where there are few individuals variation at most must be slower. there are several allusions to this notion in the "origin," as under amblyopsis, the blind cave-fish ( / . "origin," page .), and under heer ( / . "origin," page .) about madeira plants resembling the fossil and extinct plants of europe. letter . to james lamont. down, march th [ ?]. i am much obliged for your long and interesting letter. you have indeed good right to speak confidently about the habits of wild birds and animals; for i should think no one beside yourself has ever sported in spitzbergen and southern africa. it is very curious and interesting that you should have arrived at the conclusion that so-called "natural selection" had been efficient in giving their peculiar colours to our grouse. i shall probably use your authority on the similar habits of our grouse and the norwegian species. i am particularly obliged for your very curious fact of the effect produced by the introduction of the lowland grouse on the wildness of the grouse in your neighbourhood. it is a very striking instance of what crossing will do in affecting the character of a breed. have you ever seen it stated in any sporting work that game has become wilder in this country? i wish i could get any sort of proof of the fact, for your explanation seems to me equally ingenious and probable. i have myself witnessed in south america a nearly parallel [case] with that which you mention in regard to the reindeer in spitzbergen, with the cervus campestris of la plata. it feared neither man nor the sound of shot of a rifle, but was terrified at the sight of a man on horseback; every one in that country always riding. as you are so great a sportsman, perhaps you will kindly look to one very trifling point for me, as my neighbours here think it too absurd to notice--namely, whether the feet of birds are dirty, whether a few grains of dirt do not adhere occasionally to their feet. i especially want to know how this is in the case of birds like herons and waders, which stalk in the mud. you will guess that this relates to dispersal of seeds, which is one of my greatest difficulties. my health is very indifferent, and i am seldom able to attend the scientific meetings, but i sincerely hope that i may some time have the pleasure of meeting you. pray accept my cordial thanks for your very kind letter. letter . to g.h.k. thwaites. down, march st [ ]. i thank you very sincerely for your letter, and am much pleased that you go a little way with me. you will think it presumptuous, but i am well convinced from my own mental experience that if you keep the subject at all before your mind you will ultimately go further. the present volume is a mere abstract, and there are great omissions. one main one, which i have rectified in the foreign editions, is an explanation (which has satisfied lyell, who made the same objection with you) why many forms do not progress or advance (and i quite agree about some retrograding). i have also a ms. discussion on beauty; but do you really suppose that for instance diatomaceae were created beautiful that man, after millions of generations, should admire them through the microscope? ( / . thwaites ( - ) published several papers on the diatomaceae ("on conjugation in the diatomaceae," "ann. and mag. nat. hist." volume xx., , pages - , - ; "further observations on the diatomaceae," loc. cit., , page ). see "life and letters" ii., page .) i should attribute most of such structures to quite unknown laws of growth; and mere repetition of parts is to our eyes one main element of beauty. when any structure is of use (and i can show what curiously minute particulars are often of highest use), i can see with my prejudiced eyes no limit to the perfection of the coadaptations which could be effected by natural selection. i rather doubt whether you see how far, as it seems to me, the argument for homology and embryology may be carried. i do not look at this as mere analogy. i would as soon believe that fossil shells were mere mockeries of real shells as that the same bones in the foot of a dog and wing of a bat, or the similar embryo of mammal and bird, had not a direct signification, and that the signification can be unity of descent or nothing. but i venture to repeat how much pleased i am that you go some little way with me. i find a number of naturalists do the same, and as their halting-places are various, and i must think arbitrary, i believe they will all go further. as for changing at once one's opinion, i would not value the opinion of a man who could do so; it must be a slow process. ( / . darwin wrote to woodward in regard to the "origin": "it may be a vain and silly thing to say, but i believe my book must be read twice carefully to be fully understood. you will perhaps think it by no means worth the labour.") thank you for telling me about the lantana ( / . an exotic species of lantana (verbenaceae) grows vigorously in ceylon, and is described as frequently making its appearance after the firing of the low-country forests (see h.h.w. pearson, "the botany of the ceylon patanas," "journal linn. soc." volume xxxiv., page , ). no doubt thwaites' letter to darwin referred to the spreading of the introduced lantana, comparable to that of the cardoon in la plata and of other plants mentioned by darwin in the "origin of species" (edition vi., page ).), and i should at any time be most grateful for any information which you think would be of use to me. i hope that you will publish a list of all naturalised plants in ceylon, as far as known, carefully distinguishing those confined to cultivated soils alone. i feel sure that this most important subject has been greatly undervalued. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . the reference here is to the review on the "origin of species" generally believed to be by the late sir r. owen, and published in the april number of the "edinburgh review," . owen's biographer is silent on the subject, and prints, without comment, the following passage in an undated letter from sedgwick to owen: "do you know who was the author of the article in the "edinburgh" on the subject of darwin's theory? on the whole, i think it very good. i once suspected that you must have had a hand in it, and i then abandoned that thought. i have not read it with any care" (owen's "life," volume ii., page ). april th [ ]. i never saw such an amount of misrepresentation. at page ( / . "lasting and fruitful conclusions have, indeed, hitherto been based only on the possession of knowledge; now we are called upon to accept an hypothesis on the plea of want of knowledge. the geological record, it is averred, is so imperfect!"--"edinburgh review," cxi., , page .) he says we are called on to accept the hypothesis on the plea of ignorance, whereas i think i could not have made it clearer that i admit the imperfection of the geological record as a great difficulty. the quotation ( / . "we are appealed to, or at least 'the young and rising naturalists with plastic minds,* [on the nature of the limbs, page ] are adjured." it will be seen that the inverted comma after "naturalists" is omitted; the asterisk referring, in a footnote (here placed in square brackets), to page of the "origin," seems to have been incorrectly assumed by mr. darwin to show the close of the quotation.--ibid., page .) on page of the "review" about "young and rising naturalists with plastic minds," attributed to "nature of limbs," is a false quotation, as i do not use the words "plastic minds." at page ( / . the passage ("origin," edition i., page ) begins, "but do they really believe...," and shows clearly that the author considers such a belief all but impossible.) the quotation is garbled, for i only ask whether naturalists believe about elemental atoms flashing, etc., and he changes it into that i state that they do believe. at page ( / . "all who have brought the transmutation speculation to the test of observed facts and ascertained powers in organic life, and have published the results, usually adverse to such speculations, are set down by mr. darwin as 'curiously illustrating the blindness of preconceived opinion.'" the passage in the "origin," page , begins by expressing surprise at the point of view of some naturalists: "they admit that a multitude of forms, which till lately they themselves thought were special creations,...have been produced by variation, but they refuse to extend the same view to other and very slightly different forms...they admit variation as a vera causa in one case, they arbitrarily reject it in another, without assigning any distinction in the two cases. the day will come when this will be given as a curious illustration of the blindness of preconceived opinion.") it is very false to say that i imply by "blindness of preconceived opinion" the simple belief of creation. and so on in other cases. but i beg pardon for troubling you. i am heartily sorry that in your unselfish endeavours to spread what you believe to be truth, you should have incurred so brutal an attack. ( / . the "edinburgh" reviewer, referring to huxley's royal institution lecture given february th, , "on species and races and their origin," says (page ), "we gazed with amazement at the audacity of the dispenser of the hour's intellectual amusement, who, availing himself of the technical ignorance of the majority of his auditors, sought to blind them as to the frail foundations of 'natural selection' by such illustrations as the subjoined": and then follows a critique of the lecturer's comparison of the supposed descent of the horse from the palaeothere with that of various kinds of domestic pigeons from the rock-pigeon.) and now i will not think any more of this false and malignant attack. letter . to maxwell masters. down, april th [ ]. i thank you very sincerely for your two kind notes. the next time you write to your father i beg you to give him from me my best thanks, but i am sorry that he should have had the trouble of writing when ill. i have been much interested by the facts given by him. if you think he would in the least care to hear the result of an artificial cross of two sweet peas, you can send the enclosed; if it will only trouble him, tear it up. there seems to be so much parallelism in the kind of variation from my experiment, which was certainly a cross, and what mr. masters has observed, that i cannot help suspecting that his peas were crossed by bees, which i have seen well dusted with the pollen of the sweet pea; but then i wish this, and how hard it is to prevent one's wish biassing one's judgment! i was struck with your remark about the compositae, etc. i do not see that it bears much against me, and whether it does or not is of course of not the slightest importance. although i fully agree that no definition can be drawn between monstrosities and slight variations (such as my theory requires), yet i suspect there is some distinction. some facts lead me to think that monstrosities supervene generally at an early age; and after attending to the subject i have great doubts whether species in a state of nature ever become modified by such sudden jumps as would result from the natural selection of monstrosities. you cannot do me a greater service than by pointing out errors. i sincerely hope that your work on monstrosities ( / . "vegetable teratology," london, (ray soc.).) will soon appear, for i am sure it will be highly instructive. now for your notes, for which let me again thank you. . your conclusion about parts developed ( / . see "origin of species," edition i., page , on the variability of parts "developed in an extraordinary manner in any one species, compared with the other species of the same genus." see "life and letters," ii., pages , , also letter .) not being extra variable agrees with hooker's. you will see that i have stated that the rule apparently does not hold with plants, though it ought, if true, to hold good with them. . i cannot now remember in what work i saw the statement about peloria affecting the axis, but i know it was one which i thought might be trusted. i consulted also dr. falconer, and i think that he agreed to the truth of it; but i cannot now tell where to look for my notes. i had been much struck with finding a laburnum tree with the terminal flowers alone in each raceme peloric, though not perfectly regular. the pelargonium case in the "origin" seems to point in the same direction. ( / . "origin of species," edition i., page .) . thanks for the correction about furze: i found the seedlings just sprouting, and was so much surprised and their appearance that i sent them to hooker; but i never plainly asked myself whether they were cotyledons or first leaves. ( / . the trifoliate leaves of furze seedlings are not cotyledons, but early leaves: see lubbock's "seedlings," i., page .) . that is a curious fact about the seeds of the furze, the more curious as i found with leguminosae that immersion in plain cold water for a very few days killed some kinds. if at any time anything should occur to you illustrating or opposing my notions, and you have leisure to inform me, i should be truly grateful, for i can plainly see that you have wealth of knowledge. with respect to advancement or retrogression in organisation in monstrosities of the compositae, etc., do you not find it very difficult to define which is which? anyhow, most botanists seem to differ as widely as possible on this head. letter . to j.s. henslow. down, may th [ ]. very many thanks about the elodea, which case interests me much. i wrote to mr. marshall ( / . w. marshall was the author of "anacharis alsinastrum, a new water-weed": four letters to the "cambridge independent press," reprinted as a pamphlet, .) at ely, and in due time he says he will send me whatever information he can procure. owen is indeed very spiteful. ( / . owen was believed to be the author of the article in the "edinburgh review," april, . see letter .) he misrepresents and alters what i say very unfairly. but i think his conduct towards hooker most ungenerous: viz., to allude to his essay (australian flora), and not to notice the magnificent results on geographical distribution. the londoners say he is mad with envy because my book has been talked about; what a strange man to be envious of a naturalist like myself, immeasurably his inferior! from one conversation with him i really suspect he goes at the bottom of his hidden soul as far as i do. i wonder whether sedgwick noticed in the "edinburgh review" about the "sacerdotal revilers,"--so the revilers are tearing each other to pieces. i suppose sedgwick will be very fierce against me at the philosophical society. ( / . the meeting of the "cambridge phil. soc." was held on may th, , and fully reported in the "cambridge chronicle," may th. sedgwick is reported to have said that "darwin's theory is not inductive--is not based on a series of acknowledged facts, leading to a general conclusion evolved, logically out of the facts...the only facts he pretends to adduce, as true elements of proof, are the varieties produced by domestication and the artifices of crossbreeding." sedgwick went on to speak of the vexatious multiplication of supposed species, and adds, "in this respect darwin's theory may help to simplify our classifications, and thereby do good service to modern science. but he has not undermined any grand truth in the constancy of natural laws, and the continuity of true species.") judging from his notice in the "spectator," ( / . march th, ; see "life and letters," ii., page .) he will misrepresent me, but it will certainly be unintentionally done. in a letter to me, and in the above notice, he talks much about my departing from the spirit of inductive philosophy. i wish, if you ever talk on the subject to him, you would ask him whether it was not allowable (and a great step) to invent the undulatory theory of light, i.e. hypothetical undulations, in a hypothetical substance, the ether. and if this be so, why may i not invent the hypothesis of natural selection (which from the analogy of domestic productions, and from what we know of the struggle for existence and of the variability of organic beings, is, in some very slight degree, in itself probable) and try whether this hypothesis of natural selection does not explain (as i think it does) a large number of facts in geographical distribution--geological succession, classification, morphology, embryology, etc. i should really much like to know why such an hypothesis as the undulation of the ether may be invented, and why i may not invent (not that i did invent it, for i was led to it by studying domestic varieties) any hypothesis, such as natural selection. pray forgive me and my pen for running away with me, and scribbling on at such length. i can perfectly understand sedgwick ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page ; the letter is there dated december th, but must, we think, have been written in november at latest.) or any one saying that natural selection does not explain large classes of facts; but that is very different from saying that i depart from right principles of scientific investigation. letter . to j.s. henslow. down, may th [ ]. i have been greatly interested by your letter to hooker, and i must thank you from my heart for so generously defending me, as far as you could, against my powerful attackers. nothing which persons say hurts me for long, for i have an entire conviction that i have not been influenced by bad feelings in the conclusions at which i have arrived. nor have i published my conclusions without long deliberation, and they were arrived at after far more study than the public will ever know of, or believe in. i am certain to have erred in many points, but i do not believe so much as sedgwick and co. think. is there any abstract or proceedings of the cambridge philosophical society published? ( / . henslow's remarks are not given in the above-mentioned report in the "cambridge chronicle.") if so, and you could get me a copy, i should like to have one. believe me, my dear henslow, i feel grateful to you on this occasion, and for the multitude of kindnesses you have done me from my earliest days at cambridge. letter . to c. lyell. down, may nd [ ]. hooker has sent me a letter of thwaites ( / . see letter .), of ceylon, who makes exactly the same objections which you did at first about the necessity of all forms advancing, and therefore the difficulty of simple forms still existing. there was no worse omission than this in my book, and i had the discussion all ready. i am extremely glad to hear that you intend adding new arguments about the imperfection of the geological record. i always feel this acutely, and am surprised that such men as ramsay and jukes do not feel it more. i quite agree on insufficient evidence about mummy wheat. ( / . see notes appended to a letter to lyell, september (botany). when you can spare it, i should like (but out of mere curiosity) to see binney on coal marine marshes. i once made hooker very savage by saying that i believed the coal plants grew in the sea, like mangroves. ( / . see "life and letters," i., page .) letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . this letter is of interest as containing a strong expression upon the overwhelming importance of selection.) down [ ]. many thanks for harvey's letter ( / . w.h. harvey had been corresponding with sir j.d. hooker on the "origin of species."), which i will keep a little longer and then return. i will write to him and try to make clear from analogy of domestic productions the part which i believe selection has played. i have been reworking my pigeons and other domestic animals, and i am sure that any one is right in saying that selection is the efficient cause, though, as you truly say, variation is the base of all. why i do not believe so much as you do in physical agencies is that i see in almost every organism (though far more clearly in animals than in plants) adaptation, and this except in rare instances, must, i should think, be due to selection. do not forget the pyrola when in flower. ( / . in a letter to hooker, may nd, , darwin wrote: "have you pyrola at kew? if so, for heaven's sake observe the curvature of the pistil towards the gangway to the nectary." the fact of the stigma in insect-visited flowers being so placed that the visitor must touch it on its way to the nectar, was a point which early attracted darwin's attention and strongly impressed him.) my blessed little scaevola has come into flower, and i will try artificial fertilisation on it. i have looked over harvey's letter, and have assumed (i hope rightly) that he could not object to knowing that you had forwarded it to me. letter . to asa gray. down, june th [ ]. i have to thank you for two notes, one through hooker, and one with some letters to be posted, which was done. i anticipated your request by making a few remarks on owen's review. ( / . "the edinburgh review," april, .) hooker is so weary of reviews that i do not think you will get any hints from him. i have lately had many more "kicks than halfpence." a review in the last dublin "nat. hist. review" is the most unfair thing which has appeared,--one mass of misrepresentation. it is evidently by haughton, the geologist, chemist and mathematician. it shows immeasurable conceit and contempt of all who are not mathematicians. he discusses bees' cells, and puts a series which i have never alluded to, and wholly ignores the intermediate comb of melipona, which alone led me to my notions. the article is a curiosity of unfairness and arrogance; but, as he sneers at malthus, i am content, for it is clear he cannot reason. he is a friend of harvey, with whom i have had some correspondence. your article has clearly, as he admits, influenced him. he admits to a certain extent natural selection, yet i am sure does not understand me. it is strange that very few do, and i am become quite convinced that i must be an extremely bad explainer. to recur for a moment to owen: he grossly misrepresents and is very unfair to huxley. you say that you think the article must be by a pupil of owen; but no one fact tells so strongly against owen, considering his former position at the college of surgeons, as that he has never reared one pupil or follower. in the number just out of "fraser's magazine" ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page .) there is an article or review on lamarck and me by w. hopkins, the mathematician, who, like haughton, despises the reasoning power of all naturalists. personally he is extremely kind towards me; but he evidently in the following number means to blow me into atoms. he does not in the least appreciate the difference in my views and lamarck's, as explaining adaptation, the principle of divergence, the increase of dominant groups, and the almost necessary extinction of the less dominant and smaller groups, etc. letter . to c. lyell. down, june th [ ]. one word more upon the deification ( / . "if we confound 'variation' or 'natural selection' with such creational laws, we deify secondary causes or immeasurably exaggerate their influence" (lyell, "the geological evidences of the antiquity of man, with remarks on theories on the origin of species by variation," page , london, ). see letter .) of natural selection: attributing so much weight to it does not exclude still more general laws, i.e. the ordering of the whole universe. i have said that natural selection is to the structure of organised beings what the human architect is to a building. the very existence of the human architect shows the existence of more general laws; but no one, in giving credit for a building to the human architect, thinks it necessary to refer to the laws by which man has appeared. no astronomer, in showing how the movements of planets are due to gravity, thinks it necessary to say that the law of gravity was designed that the planets should pursue the courses which they pursue. i cannot believe that there is a bit more interference by the creator in the construction of each species than in the course of the planets. it is only owing to paley and co., i believe, that this more special interference is thought necessary with living bodies. but we shall never agree, so do not trouble yourself to answer. i should think your remarks were very just about mathematicians not being better enabled to judge of probabilities than other men of common-sense. i have just got more returns about the gestation of hounds. the period differs at least from sixty-one to seventy-four days, just as i expected. i was thinking of sending the "gardeners' chronicle" to you, on account of a paper by me on the fertilisation of orchids by insects ( / . "fertilisation of british orchids by insect agency." this article in the "gardeners' chronicle" of june th, , page , begins with a request that observations should be made on the manner of fertilisation in the bee-and in the fly-orchis.), as it involves a curious point, and as you cared about my paper on kidney beans; but as you are so busy, i will not. letter . to c. lyell. down [june?] th [ ]. i send blyth ( / . see letter .); it is a dreadful handwriting; the passage is on page . in a former note he told me he feared there was hardly a chance of getting money for the chinese expedition, and spoke of your kindness. many thanks for your long and interesting letter. i wonder at, admire, and thank you for your patience in writing so much. i rather demur to deinosaurus not having "free will," as surely we have. i demur also to your putting huxley's "force and matter" in the same category with natural selection. the latter may, of course, be quite a false view; but surely it is not getting beyond our depth to first causes. it is truly very remarkable that the gestation of hounds ( / . in a letter written to lyell on june th, , the following paragraph occurs: "you need not believe one word of what i said about gestation of dogs. since writing to you i have had more correspondence with the master of hounds, and i see his [record?] is worth nothing. it may, of course, be correct, but cannot be trusted. i find also different statements about the wolf: in fact, i am all abroad.") should vary so much, while that of man does not. it may be from multiple origin. the eggs from the musk and the common duck take an intermediate period in hatching; but i should rather look at it as one of the ten thousand cases which we cannot explain--namely, when one part or function varies in one species and not in another. hooker has told me nothing about his explanation of few arctic forms; i knew the fact before. i had speculated on what i presume, from what you say, is his explanation ( / . "outlines of the distribution of arctic plants," j.d. hooker, "trans. linn. soc." volume xxiii., page , . [read june st, .] in this paper hooker draws attention to the exceptional character of the greenland flora; but as regards the paucity of its species and in its much greater resemblance to the floras of arctic europe than to those of arctic america, he considers it difficult to account for these facts, "unless we admit mr. darwin's hypotheses" (see "origin," edition vi., , chapter xii., page ) of a southern migration due to the cold of the glacial period and the subsequent return of the northern types during the succeeding warmer period. many of the greenland species, being confined to the peninsula, "would, as it were, be driven into the sea--that is exterminated" (hooker, op. cit., pages - ).); but there must have been at all times an arctic region. i found the speculation got too complex, as it seemed to me, to be worth following out. i have been doing some more interesting work with orchids. talk of adaptation in woodpeckers ( / . "can a more striking instance of adaptation be given than that of a woodpecker for climbing trees and seizing insects in the chinks of the bark?" (origin of species," edition have i., page ).), some of the orchids beat it. i showed the case to elizabeth wedgwood, and her remark was, "now you have upset your own book, for you won't persuade me that this could be effected by natural selection." letter . to t.h. huxley. july th [ ]. many thanks for your pleasant letter. i agree to every word you say about "fraser" and the "quarterly." ( / . bishop wilberforce's review of the "origin" in the "quarterly review," july, , was republished in his "collected essays," . see "life and letters, ii., page , and ii., page , where some quotations from the review are given. for hopkins' review in "fraser's magazine," june, , see "life and letters," ii., .) i have had some really admirable letters from hopkins. i do not suppose he has ever troubled his head about geographical distribution, classification, morphologies, etc., and it is only those who have that will feel any relief in having some sort of rational explanation of such facts. is it not grand the way in which the bishop asserts that all such facts are explained by ideas in god's mind? the "quarterly" is uncommonly clever; and i chuckled much at the way my grandfather and self are quizzed. i could here and there see owen's hand. by the way, how comes it that you were not attacked? does owen begin to find it more prudent to leave you alone? i would give five shillings to know what tremendous blunder the bishop made; for i see that a page has been cancelled and a new page gummed in. i am indeed most thoroughly contented with the progress of opinion. from all that i hear from several quarters, it seems that oxford did the subject great good. ( / . an account of the meeting of the british association at oxford in is given in the "life and letters," ii., page , and a fuller account in the one-volume "life of charles darwin," , page . see also the "life and letters of t.h. huxley," volume i., page , and the amusing account of the meeting in mr. tuckwell's "reminiscences of oxford," london, , page .) it is of enormous importance the showing the world that a few first-rate men are not afraid of expressing their opinion. i see daily more and more plainly that my unaided book would have done absolutely nothing. asa gray is fighting admirably in the united states. he is thorough master of the subject, which cannot be said by any means of such men as even hopkins. i have been thinking over what you allude to about a natural history review. ( / . in the "life and letters of t.h. huxley," volume i., page , some account of the founding of the "natural history review" is given in a letter to sir j.d. hooker of july th, . on august nd mr. huxley added: "darwin wrote me a very kind expostulation about it, telling me i ought not to waste myself on other than original work. in reply, however, i assured him that i must waste myself willy-nilly, and that the 'review' was only a save-all.") i suppose you mean really a review and not journal for original communications in natural history. of the latter there is now superabundance. with respect to a good review, there can be no doubt of its value and utility; nevertheless, if not too late, i hope you will consider deliberately before you decide. remember what a deal of work you have on your shoulders, and though you can do much, yet there is a limit to even the hardest worker's power of working. i should deeply regret to see you sacrificing much time which could be given to original research. i fear, to one who can review as well as you do, there would be the same temptation to waste time, as there notoriously is for those who can speak well. a review is only temporary; your work should be perennial. i know well that you may say that unless good men will review there will be no good reviews. and this is true. would you not do more good by an occasional review in some well-established review, than by giving up much time to the editing, or largely aiding, if not editing, a review which from being confined to one subject would not have a very large circulation? but i must return to the chief idea which strikes me--viz., that it would lessen the amount of original and perennial work which you could do. reflect how few men there are in england who can do original work in the several lines in which you are excellently fitted. lyell, i remember, on analogous grounds many years ago resolved he would write no more reviews. i am an old slowcoach, and your scheme makes me tremble. god knows in one sense i am about the last man in england who ought to throw cold water on any review in which you would be concerned, as i have so immensely profited by your labours in this line. with respect to reviewing myself, i never tried: any work of that kind stops me doing anything else, as i cannot possibly work at odds and ends of time. i have, moreover, an insane hatred of stopping my regular current of work. i have now materials for a little paper or two, but i know i shall never work them up. so i will not promise to help; though not to help, if i could, would make me feel very ungrateful to you. you have no idea during how short a time daily i am able to work. if i had any regular duties, like you and hooker, i should do absolutely nothing in science. i am heartily glad to hear that you are better; but how such labour as volunteer-soldiering (all honour to you) does not kill you, i cannot understand. for god's sake remember that your field of labour is original research in the highest and most difficult branches of natural history. not that i wish to underrate the importance of clever and solid reviews. letter . to t.h. huxley. sudbrook park, richmond, thursday [july, ]. i must send you a line to say what a good fellow you are to send me so long an account of the oxford doings. i have read it twice, and sent it to my wife, and when i get home shall read it again: it has so much interested me. but how durst you attack a live bishop in that fashion? i am quite ashamed of you! have you no reverence for fine lawn sleeves? by jove, you seem to have done it well. if any one were to ridicule any belief of the bishop's, would he not blandly shrug his shoulders and be inexpressibly shocked? i am very, very sorry to hear that you are not well; but am not surprised after all your self-imposed labour. i hope you will soon have an outing, and that will do you real good. i am glad to hear about j. lubbock, whom i hope to see soon, and shall tell him what you have said. have you read hopkins in the last "fraser?"--well put, in good spirit, except soul discussion bad, as i have told him; nothing actually new, takes the weak points alone, and leaves out all other considerations. i heard from asa gray yesterday; he goes on fighting like a trojan. god bless you!--get well, be idle, and always reverence a bishop. letter . to j.d. dana. down, july th [ ]. i received several weeks ago your note telling me that you could not visit england, which i sincerely regretted, as i should most heartily have liked to have made your personal acquaintance. you gave me an improved, but not very good, account of your health. i should at some time be grateful for a line to tell me how you are. we have had a miserable summer, owing to a terribly long and severe illness of my eldest girl, who improves slightly but is still in a precarious condition. i have been able to do nothing in science of late. my kind friend asa gray often writes to me and tells me of the warm discussions on the "origin of species" in the united states. whenever you are strong enough to read it, i know you will be dead against me, but i know equally well that your opposition will be liberal and philosophical. and this is a good deal more than i can say of all my opponents in this country. i have not yet seen agassiz's attack ( / . "silliman's journal," july, . a passage from agassiz's review is given by mr. huxley in darwin's "life and letters," ii., page .), but i hope to find it at home when i return in a few days, for i have been for several weeks away from home on my daughter's account. prof. silliman sent me an extremely kind message by asa gray that your journal would be open to a reply by me. i cannot decide till i see it, but on principle i have resolved to avoid answering anything, as it consumes much time, often temper, and i have said my say in the "origin." no one person understands my views and has defended them so well as a. gray, though he does not by any means go all the way with me. there was much discussion on the subject at the british association at oxford, and i had many defenders, and my side seems (for i was not there) almost to have got the best of the battle. your correspondent and my neighbour, j. lubbock, goes on working at such spare time as he has. this is an egotistical note, but i have not seen a naturalist for months. most sincerely and deeply do i hope that this note may find you almost recovered. letter . to w.h. harvey. ( / . see letter , note. this letter was written in reply to a long one from w.h. harvey, dated august th, . harvey had already published a serio-comic squib and a review, to which references are given in the "life and letters," ii., pages and ; but apparently he had not before this time completed the reading of the "origin.") [august, .] i have read your long letter with much interest, and i thank you for your great liberality in sending it me. but, on reflection, i do not wish to attempt answering any part, except to you privately. anything said by myself in defence would have no weight; it is best to be defended by others, or not at all. parts of your letter seem to me, if i may be permitted to say so, very acute and original, and i feel it a great compliment your giving up so much time to my book. but, on the whole, i am disappointed; not from your not concurring with me, for i never expected that, and, indeed, in your remarks on chapters xii. and xiii., you go much further with me (though a little way) than i ever anticipated, and am much pleased at the result. but on the whole i am disappointed, because it seems to me that you do not understand what i mean by natural selection, as shown at page ( / . harvey speaks of the perpetuation or selection of the useful, pre-supposing "a vigilant and intelligent agent," which is very much like saying that an intelligent agent is needed to see that the small stones pass through the meshes of a sieve and the big ones remain behind.) of your letter and by several of your remarks. as my book has failed to explain my meaning, it would be hopeless to attempt it in a letter. you speak in the early part of your letter, and at page , as if i had said that natural selection was the sole agency of modification, whereas i have over and over again, ad nauseam, directly said, and by order of precedence implied (what seems to me obvious) that selection can do nothing without previous variability (see pages , , , , , etc.), "nothing can be effected unless favourable variations occur." i consider natural selection as of such high importance, because it accumulates successive variations in any profitable direction, and thus adapts each new being to its complex conditions of life. the term "selection," i see, deceives many persons, though i see no more reason why it should than elective affinity, as used by the old chemists. if i had to rewrite my book, i would use "natural preservation" or "naturally preserved." i should think you would as soon take an emetic as re-read any part of my book; but if you did, and were to erase selection and selected, and insert preservation and preserved, possibly the subject would be clearer. as you are not singular in misunderstanding my book, i should long before this have concluded that my brains were in a haze had i not found by published reviews, and especially by correspondence, that lyell, hooker, asa gray, h.c. watson, huxley, and carpenter, and many others, perfectly comprehend what i mean. the upshot of your remarks at page is that my explanation, etc., and the whole doctrine of natural selection, are mere empty words, signifying the "order of nature." as the above-named clear-headed men, who do comprehend my views, all go a certain length with me, and certainly do not think it all moonshine, i should venture to suggest a little further reflection on your part. i do not mean by this to imply that the opinion of these men is worth much as showing that i am right, but merely as some evidence that i have clearer ideas than you think, otherwise these same men must be even more muddle-headed than i am; for they have no temptation to deceive themselves. in the forthcoming september ( / . "american journal of science and arts," september , "design versus necessity," reprinted in asa gray's "darwiniana," , page .) number of the "american journal of science" there is an interesting and short theological article (by asa gray), which gives incidentally with admirable clearness the theory of natural selection, and therefore might be worth your reading. i think that the theological part would interest you. you object to all my illustrations. they are all necessarily conjectural, and may be all false; but they were the best i could give. the bear case ( / . "origin of species," edition i., page . see letter .) has been well laughed at, and disingenuously distorted by some into my saying that a bear could be converted into a whale. as it offended persons, i struck it out in the second edition; but i still maintain that there is no especial difficulty in a bear's mouth being enlarged to any degree useful to its changing habits,--no more difficulty than man has found in increasing the crop of the pigeon, by continued selection, until it is literally as big as the whole rest of the body. if this had not been known, how absurd it would have appeared to say that the crop of a bird might be increased till it became like a balloon! with respect to the ostrich, i believe that the wings have been reduced, and are not in course of development, because the whole structure of a bird is essentially formed for flight; and the ostrich is essentially a bird. you will see at page of the "origin" a somewhat analogous discussion. at page of the second edition i have pointed out the essential distinction between a nascent and rudimentary organ. if you prefer the more complex view that the progenitor of the ostrich lost its wings, and that the present ostrich is regaining them, i have nothing to say in opposition. with respect to trees on islands, i collected some cases, but took the main facts from alph. de candolle, and thought they might be trusted. my explanation may be grossly wrong; but i am not convinced it is so, and i do not see the full force of your argument of certain herbaceous orders having been developed into trees in certain rare cases on continents. the case seems to me to turn altogether on the question whether generally herbaceous orders more frequently afford trees and bushes on islands than on continents, relatively to their areas. ( / . in the "origin," edition i., page , the author points out that in the presence of competing trees an herbaceous plant would have little chance of becoming arborescent; but on an island, with only other herbaceous plants as competitors, it might gain an advantage by overtopping its fellows, and become tree-like. harvey writes: "what you say (page ) of insular trees belonging to orders which elsewhere include only herbaceous species seems to me to be unsupported by sufficient evidence. you cite no particular trees, and i may therefore be wrong in guessing that the orders you allude to are scrophularineae and compositae; and the insular trees the antarctic veronicas and the arborescent compositae of st. helena, tasmania, etc. but in south africa halleria (scrophularineae) is often as large and woody as an apple tree; and there are several south african arborescent compositae (senecio and oldenburgia). besides, in tasmania at least, the arborescent composites are not found competing with herbaceous plants alone, and growing taller and taller by overtopping them...; for the most arborescent of them all (eurybia argophylla, the musk tree) grows...in eucalyptus forests. and so of the south african halleria, which is a tree among trees. what the conditions of the arborescent gerania of the sandwich islands may be i am unable to say...i cannot remember any other instances, nor can i accept your explanation in any other of the cases i have cited.") in page of your letter you say you give up many book-species as separate creations: i give up all, and you infer that our difference is only in degree and not in kind. i dissent from this; for i give a distinct reason how far i go in giving up species. i look at all forms, which resemble each other homologically or embryologically, as certainly descended from the same species. you hit me hard and fairly ( / . harvey writes: "you ask--were all the infinitely numerous kinds of animals and plants created as eggs or seed, or as full grown? to this it is sufficient to reply, was your primordial organism, or were your four or five progenitors created as egg, seed, or full grown? neither theory attempts to solve this riddle, nor yet the riddle of the omphalos." the latter point, which mr. darwin refuses to give up, is at page of the "origin," "and, in the case of mammals, were they created bearing the false marks of nourishment from the mother's womb?" in the third edition of the "origin," , page , the author adds, after the last-cited passage: "undoubtedly these same questions cannot be answered by those who, under the present state of science, believe in the creation of a few aboriginal forms, or of some one form of life. in the sixth edition, probably with a view to the umbilicus, he writes (page ): "undoubtedly some of these same questions," etc., etc. from notes in mr. darwin's copy of the second edition it is clear that the change in the third edition was chiefly due to harvey's letter. see letter .) about my question (page , "origin") about creation of eggs or young, etc., (but not about mammals with the mark of the umbilical cord), yet i still have an illogical sort of feeling that there is less difficulty in imagining the creation of an asexual cell, increasing by simple division. page of your letter: i agree to every word about the antiquity of the world, and never saw the case put by any one more strongly or more ably. it makes, however, no more impression on me as an objection than does the astronomer when he puts on a few hundred million miles to the distance of the fixed stars. to compare very small things with great, lingula, etc., remaining nearly unaltered from the silurian epoch to the present day, is like the dovecote pigeons still being identical with wild rock-pigeons, whereas its "fancy" offspring have been immensely modified, and are still being modified, by means of artificial selection. you put the difficulty of the first modification of the first protozoon admirably. i assure you that immediately after the first edition was published this occurred to me, and i thought of inserting it in the second edition. i did not, because we know not in the least what the first germ of life was, nor have we any fact at all to guide us in our speculations on the kind of change which its offspring underwent. i dissent quite from what you say of the myriads of years it would take to people the world with such imagined protozoon. in how very short a time ehrenberg calculated that a single infusorium might make a cube of rock! a single cube on geometrical progression would make the solid globe in (i suppose) under a century. from what little i know, i cannot help thinking that you underrate the effects of the physical conditions of life on these low organisms. but i fully admit that i can give no sort of answer to your objections; yet i must add that it would be marvellous if any man ever could, assuming for the moment that my theory is true. you beg the question, i think, in saying that protococcus would be doomed to eternal similarity. nor can you know that the first germ resembled a protococcus or any other now living form. page of your letter: there is nothing in my theory necessitating in each case progression of organisation, though natural selection tends in this line, and has generally thus acted. an animal, if it become fitted by selection to live the life, for instance, of a parasite, will generally become degraded. i have much regretted that i did not make this part of the subject clearer. i left out this and many other subjects, which i now see ought to have been introduced. i have inserted a discussion on this subject in the foreign editions. ( / . in the third edition a discussion on this point is added in chapter iv.) in no case will any organic being tend to retrograde, unless such retrogradation be an advantage to its varying offspring; and it is difficult to see how going back to the structure of the unknown supposed original protozoon could ever be an advantage. page of your letter: i have been more glad to read your discussion on "dominant" forms than any part of your letter. ( / . harvey writes: "viewing organic nature in its widest aspect, i think it is unquestionable that the truly dominant races are not those of high, but those of low organisation"; and goes on to quote the potato disease, etc. in the third edition of the "origin," page , a discussion is introduced defining the author's use of the term "dominant.") i can now see that i have not been cautious enough in confining my definition and meaning. i cannot say that you have altered my views. if botrytis [phytophthora] had exterminated the wild potato, a low form would have conquered a high; but i cannot remember that i have ever said (i am sure i never thought) that a low form would never conquer a high. i have expressly alluded to parasites half exterminating game-animals, and to the struggle for life being sometimes between forms as different as possible: for instance, between grasshoppers and herbivorous quadrupeds. under the many conditions of life which this world affords, any group which is numerous in individuals and species and is widely distributed, may properly be called dominant. i never dreamed of considering that any one group, under all conditions and throughout the world, would be predominant. how could vertebrata be predominant under the conditions of life in which parasitic worms live? what good would their perfected senses and their intellect serve under such conditions? when i have spoken of dominant forms, it has been in relation to the multiplication of new specific forms, and the dominance of any one species has been relative generally to other members of the same group, or at least to beings exposed to similar conditions and coming into competition. but i daresay that i have not in the "origin" made myself clear, and space has rendered it impossible. but i thank you most sincerely for your valuable remarks, though i do not agree with them. about sudden jumps: i have no objection to them--they would aid me in some cases. all i can say is, that i went into the subject, and found no evidence to make me believe in jumps; and a good deal pointing in the other direction. you will find it difficult (page of your letter) to make a marked line of separation between fertile and infertile crosses. i do not see how the apparently sudden change (for the suddenness of change in a chrysalis is of course largely only apparent) in larvae during their development throws any light on the subject. i wish i could have made this letter better worth sending to you. i have had it copied to save you at least the intolerable trouble of reading my bad handwriting. again i thank you for your great liberality and kindness in sending me your criticisms, and i heartily wish we were a little nearer in accord; but we must remain content to be as wide asunder as the poles, but without, thank god, any malice or other ill-feeling. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . dr. asa gray's articles in the "atlantic monthly," july, august, and october, , were published in england as a pamphlet, and form chapter iii. in his "darwiniana" ( ). see "life and letters," ii., page . the article referred to in the present letter is that in the august number.) down, september th [ ]. i send by this post a review by asa gray, so good that i should like you to see it; i must beg for its return. i want to ask, also, your opinion about getting it reprinted in england. i thought of sending it to the editor of the "annals and mag. of nat. hist." in which two hostile reviews have appeared (although i suppose the "annals" have a very poor circulation), and asking them in the spirit of fair play to print this, with asa gray's name, which i will take the responsibility of adding. also, as it is long, i would offer to pay expenses. it is very good, in addition, as bringing in pictet so largely. ( / . pictet ( - ) wrote a "perfectly fair" review opposed to the "origin." see "life and letters," ii., page .) tell me briefly what you think. what an astonishing expedition this is of hooker's to syria! god knows whether it is wise. how are you and all yours? i hope you are not working too hard. for heaven's sake, think that you may become such a beast as i am. how goes on the "nat. hist. review?" talking of reviews, i damned with a good grace the review in the "athenaeum" ( / . review of "the glaciers of the alps" ("athenaeum," september , , page ).) on tyndall with a mean, scurvy allusion to you. it is disgraceful about tyndall,--in fact, doubting his veracity. i am very tired, and hate nearly the whole world. so good-night, and take care of your digestion, which means brain. letter . to c. lyell. , marine parade, eastbourne, th [september ]. it has just occurred to me that i took no notice of your questions on extinction in st. helena. i am nearly sure that hooker has information on the extinction of plants ( / . "principles of geology," volume ii. (edition x., ), page . facts are quoted from hooker illustrating the extermination of plants in st. helena.), but i cannot remember where i have seen it. one may confidently assume that many insects were exterminated. by the way, i heard lately from wollaston, who told me that he had just received eminently madeira and canary island insect forms from the cape of good hope, to which trifling distance, if he is logical, he will have to extend his atlantis! i have just received your letter, and am very much pleased that you approve. but i am utterly disgusted and ashamed about the dingo. i cannot think how i could have misunderstood the paper so grossly. i hope i have not blundered likewise in its co-existence with extinct species: what horrid blundering! i am grieved to hear that you think i must work in the notes in the text; but you are so much better a judge that i will obey. i am sorry that you had the trouble of returning the dog ms., which i suppose i shall receive to-morrow. i mean to give good woodcuts of all the chief races of pigeons. ( / . "the variation of animals and plants under domestication," .) except the c. oenas ( / . the columba oenas of europe roosts on trees and builds its nest in holes, either in trees or the ground ("var. of animals," volume i., page ).) (which is partly, indeed almost entirely, a wood pigeon), there is no other rock pigeon with which our domestic pigeon would cross--that is, if several exceedingly close geographical races of c. livia, which hardly any ornithologist looks at as true species, be all grouped under c. livia. ( / . columba livia, the rock-pigeon. "we may conclude with confidence that all the domestic races, notwithstanding their great amount of difference, are descended from the columba livia, including under this name certain wild races" (op. cit., volume i., page ).) i am writing higgledy-piggledy, as i re-read your letter. i thought that my letter had been much wilder than yours. i quite feel the comfort of writing when one may "alter one's speculations the day after." it is beyond my knowledge to weigh ranks of birds and monotremes; in the respiratory and circulatory system and muscular energy i believe birds are ahead of all mammals. i knew that you must have known about new guinea; but in writing to you i never make myself civil! after treating some half-dozen or dozen domestic animals in the same manner as i treat dogs, i intended to have a chapter of conclusions. but heaven knows when i shall finish: i get on very slowly. you would be surprised how long it took me to pick out what seemed useful about dogs out of multitudes of details. i see the force of your remark about more isolated races of man in old times, and therefore more in number. it seems to me difficult to weigh probabilities. perhaps so, if you refer to very slight differences in the races: to make great differences much time would be required, and then, even at the earliest period i should have expected one race to have spread, conquered, and exterminated the others. with respect to falconer's series of elephants ( / . in dr. falconer and sir proby cautley collected a large number of fossil remains from the siwalik hills. falconer and cautley, "fauna antiqua sivalensis," - .), i think the case could be answered better than i have done in the "origin," page . ( / . "origin of species," edition i., page . "it is no real objection to the truth of the statement that the fauna of each period as a whole is nearly intermediate in character between the preceding and succeeding faunas, that certain genera offer exceptions to the rule. for instance, mastodons and elephants, when arranged by dr. falconer in two series, first according to their mutual affinities and then according to their periods of existence, do not accord in arrangement. the species extreme in character are not the oldest, or the most recent; nor are those which are intermediate in character intermediate in age. but supposing for an instant, in this and other such cases, that the record of the first appearance and disappearance of the species was perfect, we have no reason to believe that forms successively produced necessarily endure for corresponding lengths of time. a very ancient form might occasionally last much longer than a form elsewhere subsequently produced, especially in the case of terrestrial productions inhabiting separated districts" (pages - ). the same words occur in the later edition of the "origin" (edition vi., page .) all these new discoveries show how imperfect the discovered series is, which falconer thought years ago was nearly perfect. i will send to-day or to-morrow two articles by asa gray. the longer one (now not finally corrected) will come out in the october "atlantic monthly," and they can be got at trubner's. hearty thanks for all your kindness. do not hurry over asa gray. he strikes me as one of the best reasoners and writers i ever read. he knows my book as well as i do myself. letter . to c. lyell. , marine parade, eastbourne, october rd [ ]. your last letter has interested me much in many ways. i enclose a letter of wyman's which touches on brains. wyman is mistaken in supposing that i did not know that the cave-rat was an american form; i made special enquiries. he does not know that the eye of the tucotuco was carefully dissected. with respect to reviews by a. gray. i thought of sending the dialogue to the "saturday review" in a week's time or so, as they have lately discussed design. ( / . "discussion between two readers of darwin's treatise on the origin of species, upon its natural theology" ("amer. journ. sci." volume xxx, page , ). reprinted in "darwiniana," , page . the article begins with the following question: "first reader--is darwin's theory atheistic or pantheistic? or does it tend to atheism or pantheism?" the discussion is closed by the second reader, who thus sums up his views: "wherefore we may insist that, for all that yet appears, the argument for design, as presented by the natural theologians, is just as good now, if we accept darwin's theory, as it was before the theory was promulgated; and that the sceptical juryman, who was about to join the other eleven in an unanimous verdict in favour of design, finds no good excuse for keeping the court longer waiting.") i have sent the second, or august, "atlantic" article to the "annals and mag. of nat. history." ( / . "annals and mag. nat. hist." volume vi., pages - , . (from the "atlantic monthly," august, .)) the copy which you have i want to send to pictet, as i told a. gray i would, thinking from what he said he would like this to be done. i doubt whether it would be possible to get the october number reprinted in this country; so that i am in no hurry at all for this. i had a letter a few weeks ago from symonds on the imperfection of the geological record, less clear and forcible than i expected. i answered him at length and very civilly, though i could hardly make out what he was driving at. he spoke about you in a way which it did me good to read. i am extremely glad that you like a. gray's reviews. how generous and unselfish he has been in all his labour! are you not struck by his metaphors and similes? i have told him he is a poet and not a lawyer. i should altogether doubt on turtles being converted into land tortoises on any one island. remember how closely similar tortoises are on all continents, as well as islands; they must have all descended from one ancient progenitor, including the gigantic tortoise of the himalaya. i think you must be cautious in not running the convenient doctrine that only one species out of very many ever varies. reflect on such cases as the fauna and flora of europe, north america, and japan, which are so similar, and yet which have a great majority of their species either specifically distinct, or forming well-marked races. we must in such cases incline to the belief that a multitude of species were once identically the same in all the three countries when under a warmer climate and more in connection; and have varied in all the three countries. i am inclined to believe that almost every species (as we see with nearly all our domestic productions) varies sufficiently for natural selection to pick out and accumulate new specific differences, under new organic and inorganic conditions of life, whenever a place is open in the polity of nature. but looking to a long lapse of time and to the whole world, or to large parts of the world, i believe only one or a few species of each large genus ultimately becomes victorious, and leaves modified descendants. to give an imaginary instance: the jay has become modified in the three countries into (i believe) three or four species; but the jay genus is not, apparently, so dominant a group as the crows; and in the long run probably all the jays will be exterminated and be replaced perhaps by some modified crows. i merely give this illustration to show what seems to me probable. but oh! what work there is before we shall understand the genealogy of organic beings! with respect to the apteryx, i know not enough of anatomy; but ask dr. f. whether the clavicle, etc., do not give attachment to some of the muscles of respiration. if my views are at all correct, the wing of the apteryx ( / . "origin of species," edition vi., page .) cannot be (page of the "origin") a nascent organ, as these wings are useless. i dare not trust to memory, but i know i found the whole sternum always reduced in size in all the fancy and confined pigeons relatively to the same bones in the wild rock-pigeon: the keel was generally still further reduced relatively to the reduced length of the sternum; but in some breeds it was in a most anomalous manner more prominent. i have got a lot of facts on the reduction of the organs of flight in the pigeon, which took me weeks to work out, and which huxley thought curious. i am utterly ashamed, and groan over my handwriting. it was "natural preservation." natural persecution is what the author ought to suffer. it rejoices me that you do not object to the term. hooker made the same remark that it ought to have been "variation and natural selection." yet with domestic productions, when selection is spoken of, variation is always implied. but i entirely agree with your and hooker's remark. have you begun regularly to write your book on the antiquity of man? ( / . published in .) i do not agree with your remark that i make natural selection do too much work. you will perhaps reply that every man rides his hobby-horse to death; and that i am in the galloping state. letter . to c. lyell. , marine parade, eastbourne, friday th [october, ]. i have two notes to thank you for, and i return wollaston. it has always seemed to me rather strange that forbes, wollaston and co. should argue, from the presence of allied, and not identical species in islands, for the former continuity of land. they argue, i suppose, from the species being allied in different regions of the same continent, though specifically distinct. but i think one might on the creative doctrine argue with equal force in a directly reverse manner, and say that, as species are so often markedly distinct, yet allied, on islands, all our continents existed as islands first, and their inhabitants were first created on these islands, and since became mingled together, so as not to be so distinct as they now generally are on islands. letter . to h.g. bronn. down, october th [ ]. i ought to apologise for troubling you, but i have at last carefully read your excellent criticisms on my book. ( / . bronn added critical remarks to his german translation of the "origin": see "life and letters," ii., page .) i agree with much of them, and wholly with your final sentence. the objections and difficulties which may be urged against my view are indeed heavy enough almost to break my back, but it is not yet broken! you put very well and very fairly that i can in no one instance explain the course of modification in any particular instance. i could make some sort of answer to your case of the two rats; and might i not turn round and ask him who believes in the separate creation of each species, why one rat has a longer tail or shorter ears than another? i presume that most people would say that these characters were of some use, or stood in some connection with other parts; and if so, natural selection would act on them. but as you put the case, it tells well against me. you argue most justly against my question, whether the many species were created as eggs ( / . see letter .) or as mature, etc. i certainly had no right to ask that question. i fully agree that there might have been as well a hundred thousand creations as eight or ten, or only one. but then, on the view of eight or ten creations (i.e. as many as there are distinct types of structure) we can on my view understand the homological and embryological resemblance of all the organisms of each type, and on this ground almost alone i disbelieve in the innumerable acts of creation. there are only two points on which i think you have misunderstood me. i refer only to one glacial period as affecting the distribution of organic beings; i did not wish even to allude to the doubtful evidence of glacial action in the permian and carboniferous periods. secondly, i do not believe that the process of development has always been carried on at the same rate in all different parts of the world. australia is opposed to such belief. the nearly contemporaneous equal development in past periods i attribute to the slow migration of the higher and more dominant forms over the whole world, and not to independent acts of development in different parts. lastly, permit me to add that i cannot see the force of your objection, that nothing is effected until the origin of life is explained: surely it is worth while to attempt to follow out the action of electricity, though we know not what electricity is. if you should at any time do me the favour of writing to me, i should be very much obliged if you would inform me whether you have yourself examined brehm's subspecies of birds; for i have looked through some of his writings, but have never met an ornithologist who believed in his [illegible]. are these subspecies really characteristic of certain different regions of germany? should you write, i should much like to know how the german edition sells. letter . to j.s. henslow. october th [ ]. many thanks for your note and for all the trouble about the seeds, which will be most useful to me next spring. on my return home i will send the shillings. ( / . shillings for the little girls in henslow's parish who collected seeds for darwin.) i concluded that dr. bree had blundered about the celts. i care not for his dull, unvarying abuse of me, and singular misrepresentation. but at page he in fact doubts my deliberate word, and that is the act of a man who has not the soul of a gentleman in him. kingsley is "the celebrated author and divine" ( / . "species not transmutable," by c.r. bree. after quoting from the "origin," edition ii., page , the words in which a celebrated author and divine confesses that "he has gradually learnt to see that it is just as noble a conception of the deity to believe that he created a few original forms, etc.," dr. bree goes on: "i think we ought to have had the name of this divine given with this remarkable statement. i confess that i have not yet fully made up my mind that any divine could have ever penned lines so fatal to the truths he is called upon to teach.") whose striking sentence i give in the second edition with his permission. i did not choose to ask him to let me use his name, and as he did not volunteer, i had of course no choice. ( / . we are indebted to mr. g.w. prothero for calling our attention to the following striking passage from the works of a divine of this period:--"just a similar scepticism has been evinced by nearly all the first physiologists of the day, who have joined in rejecting the development theories of lamarck and the 'vestiges'...yet it is now acknowledged under the high sanction of the name of owen that 'creation' is only another name for our ignorance of the mode of production...while a work has now appeared by a naturalist of the most acknowledged authority, mr. darwin's masterly volume on the 'origin of species,' by the law of 'natural selection,' which now substantiates on undeniable grounds the very principle so long denounced by the first naturalists--the origination of new species by natural causes: a work which must soon bring about an entire revolution of opinion in favour of the grand principle of the self-evolving powers of nature."--prof. baden powell's "study of the evidences of christianity," "essays and reviews," th edition, (pages , ).) dr. freke has sent me his paper, which is far beyond my scope--something like the capital quiz in the "anti-jacobin" on my grandfather, which was quoted in the "quarterly review." letter . to d.t. ansted. ( / . the following letter was published in professor meldola's presidential address to the entomological society, , and to him we are indebted for a copy.) , marine parade, eastbourne, october th [ ]. as i am away from home on account of my daughter's health, i do not know your address, and fly this at random, and it is of very little consequence if it never reaches you. i have just been reading the greater part of your "geological gossip," and have found part very interesting; but i want to express my admiration at the clear and correct manner in which you have given a sketch of natural selection. you will think this very slight praise; but i declare that the majority of readers seem utterly incapable of comprehending my long argument. some of the reviewers, who have servilely stuck to my illustrations and almost to my words, have been correct, but extraordinarily few others have succeeded. i can see plainly, by your new illustrations and manner and order of putting the case, that you thoroughly comprehend the subject. i assure you this is most gratifying to me, and it is the sole way in which the public can be indoctrinated. i am often in despair in making the generality of naturalists even comprehend me. intelligent men who are not naturalists and have not a bigoted idea of the term species, show more clearness of mind. i think that you have done the subject a real service, and i sincerely thank you. no doubt there will be much error found in my book, but i have great confidence that the main view will be, in time, found correct; for i find, without exception, that those naturalists who went at first one inch with me now go a foot or yard with me. this note obviously requires no answer. letter . to h.w. bates. down, november nd [ ]. i thank you sincerely for writing to me and for your very interesting letter. your name has for very long been familiar to me, and i have heard of your zealous exertions in the cause of natural history. but i did not know that you had worked with high philosophical questions before your mind. i have an old belief that a good observer really means a good theorist ( / . for an opposite opinion, see letter .), and i fully expect to find your observations most valuable. i am very sorry to hear that your health is shattered; but i trust under a healthy climate it may be restored. i can sympathise with you fully on this score, for i have had bad health for many years, and fear i shall ever remain a confirmed invalid. i am delighted to hear that you, with all your large practical knowledge of natural history, anticipated me in many respects and concur with me. as you say, i have been thoroughly well attacked and reviled (especially by entomologists--westwood, wollaston, and a. murray have all reviewed and sneered at me to their hearts' content), but i care nothing about their attacks; several really good judges go a long way with me, and i observe that all those who go some little way tend to go somewhat further. what a fine philosophical mind your friend mr. wallace has, and he has acted, in relation to me, like a true man with a noble spirit. i see by your letter that you have grappled with several of the most difficult problems, as it seems to me, in natural history--such as the distinctions between the different kinds of varieties, representative species, etc. perhaps i shall find some facts in your paper on intermediate varieties in intermediate regions, on which subject i have found remarkably little information. i cannot tell you how glad i am to hear that you have attended to the curious point of equatorial refrigeration. i quite agree that it must have been small; yet the more i go into that question the more convinced i feel that there was during the glacial period some migration from north to south. the sketch in the "origin" gives a very meagre account of my fuller ms. essay on this subject. i shall be particularly obliged for a copy of your paper when published ( / . probably a paper by bates entitled "contributions to an insect fauna of the amazon valley" ("trans. entomol. soc." volume v., page , - ).); and if any suggestions occur to me (not that you require any) or questions, i will write and ask. i have at once to prepare a new edition of the "origin," ( / . third edition, march, .), and i will do myself the pleasure of sending you a copy; but it will be only very slightly altered. cases of neuter ants, divided into castes, with intermediate gradations (which i imagine are rare) interest me much. see "origin" on the driver-ant, page (please look at the passage.) letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . this refers to the first number of the new series of the "natural history review," , a periodical which huxley was largely instrumental in founding, and of which he was an editor (see letter ). the first series was published in dublin, and ran to seven volumes between and . the new series came to an end in .) down, january, rd [ ]. i have just finished no. of the "natural history review," and must congratulate you, as chiefly concerned, on its excellence. the whole seems to me admirable,--so admirable that it is impossible that other numbers should be so good, but it would be foolish to expect it. i am rather a croaker, and i do rather fear that the merit of the articles will be above the run of common readers and subscribers. i have been much interested by your brain article. ( / . the "brain article" of huxley bore the title "on the zoological relations of man with the lower animals," and appeared in no. , january , page . it was mr. huxley's vindication of the unqualified contradiction given by him at the oxford meeting of the british association to professor owen's assertions as to the difference between the brains of man and the higher apes. the sentence omitted by owen in his lecture before the university of cambridge was a footnote on the close structural resemblance between homo and pithecus, which occurs in his paper on the characters of the class mammalia in the "linn. soc. journal," volume ii., , page . according to huxley the lecture, or "essay on the classification of the mammalia," was, with this omission, a reprint of the linnean paper. in "man's place in nature," page , note, huxley remarks: "surely it is a little singular that the 'anatomist,' who finds it 'difficult' to 'determine the difference' between homo and pithecus, should yet range them, on anatomical grounds, in distinct sub-classes.") what a complete and awful smasher (and done like a "buttered angel") it is for owen! what a humbug he is to have left out the sentence in the lecture before the orthodox cambridge dons! i like lubbock's paper very much: how well he writes. ( / . sir john lubbock's paper was a review of leydig on the daphniidae. m'donnell's was "on the homologies of the electric organ of the torpedo," afterwards used in the "origin" (see edition vi., page ).) m'donnell, of course, pleases me greatly. but i am very curious to know who wrote the protozoa article: i shall hear, if it be not a secret, from lubbock. it strikes me as very good, and, by jove, how owen is shown up--"this great and sound reasoner"! by the way, this reminds me of a passage which i have just observed in owen's address at leeds, which a clever reviewer might turn into good fun. he defines (page xc) and further on amplifies his definition that creation means "a process he knows not what." and in a previous sentence he says facts shake his confidence that the apteryx in new zealand and red grouse in england are "distinct creations." so that he has no confidence that these birds were produced by "processes he knows not what!" to what miserable inconsistencies and rubbish this truckling to opposite opinions leads the great generaliser! ( / . in the "historical sketch," which forms part of the later editions of the "origin," mr. darwin made use of owen's leeds address in the manner sketched above. see "origin," edition vi., page xvii.) farewell: i heartily rejoice in the clear merit of this number. i hope mrs. huxley goes on well. etty keeps much the same, but has not got up to the same pitch as when you were here. farewell. letter . to james lamont. down, february th [ ]. i am extremely much obliged for your very kind present of your beautiful work, "seasons with the sea-horses;" and i have no doubt that i shall find much interesting from so careful and acute an observer as yourself. ( / . "seasons with the sea-horses; or, sporting adventures in the northern seas." london, . mr. lamont (loc. cit., page ) writes: "the polar bear seems to me to be nothing more than a variety of the bears inhabiting northern europe, asia, and america; and it surely requires no very great stretch of the imagination to suppose that this variety was originally created, not as we see him now, but by individuals of ursus arctos in siberia, who, finding their means of subsistence running short, and pressed by hunger, ventured on the ice and caught some seals. these individuals would find that they could make a subsistence in this way, and would take up their residence on the shore and gradually take to a life on the ice...then it stands to reason that those individuals who might happen to be palest in colour would have the best chance of succeeding in surprising seals...the process of natural selection would do the rest, and ursus arctos would in the course of a few thousands, or a few millions of years, be transformed into the variety at present known as ursus maritimus." the author adds the following footnote (op. cit., page ): "it will be obvious to any one that i follow mr. darwin in these remarks; and, although the substance of this chapter was written in spitzbergen, before "the origin of species" was published, i do not claim any originality for my views; and i also cheerfully acknowledge that, but for the publication of that work in connection with the name of so distinguished a naturalist, i never would have ventured to give to the world my own humble opinions on the subject.") p.s. i have just been cutting the leaves of your book, and have been very much pleased and surprised at your note about what you wrote in spitzbergen. as you thought it out independently, it is no wonder that you so clearly understand natural selection, which so few of my reviewers do or pretend not to do. i never expected to see any one so heroically bold as to defend my bear illustration. ( / . "in north america the black bear was seen by hearne swimming for hours with widely open mouth, thus catching, almost like a whale, insects in the water."--"origin," edition vi., page . see letter .) but a man who has done all that you have done must be bold! it is laughable how often i have been attacked and misrepresented about this bear. i am much pleased with your remarks, and thank you cordially for coming to the rescue. letter . to w.b. tegetmeier. ( / . mr. darwin's letters to mr. tegetmeier, taken as a whole, give a striking picture of the amount of assistance which darwin received from him during many years. some citations from these letters given in "life and letters," ii., pages , , show how freely and generously mr. tegetmeier gave his help, and how much his co-operation was valued. the following letter is given as an example of the questions on which darwin sought mr. tegetmeier's opinion and guidance.) down, march [ ]. i ought to have answered your last note sooner; but i have been very busy. how wonderfully successful you have been in breeding pouters! you have a good right to be proud of your accuracy of eye and judgment. i am in the thick of poultry, having just commenced, and shall be truly grateful for the skulls, if you can send them by any conveyance to the nag's head next thursday. you ask about vermilion wax: positively it was not in the state of comb, but in solid bits and cakes, which were thrown with other rubbish not far from my hives. you can make any use of the fact you like. combs could be concentrically and variously coloured and dates recorded by giving for a few days wax darkly coloured with vermilion and indigo, and i daresay other substances. you ask about my crossed fowls, and this leads me to make a proposition to you, which i hope cannot be offensive to you. i trust you know me too well to think that i would propose anything objectionable to the best of my judgment. the case is this: for my object of treating poultry i must give a sketch of several breeds, with remarks on various points. i do not feel strong on the subject. now, when my ms. is fairly copied in an excellent handwriting, would you read it over, which would take you at most an hour or two, and make comments in pencil on it; and accept, like a barrister, a fee, we will say, of a couple of guineas. this would be a great assistance to me, specially if you would allow me to put a note, stating that you, a distinguished judge and fancier, had read it over. i would state that you doubted or concurred, as each case might be, of course striking out what you were sure was incorrect. there would be little new in my ms. to you; but if by chance you used any of my facts or conclusions before i published, i should wish you to state that they were on my authority; otherwise i shall be accused of stealing from you. there will be little new, except that perhaps i have consulted some out-of-the-way books, and have corresponded with some good authorities. tell me frankly what you think of this; but unless you will oblige me by accepting remuneration, i cannot and will not give you such trouble. i have little doubt that several points will arise which will require investigation, as i care for many points disregarded by fanciers; and according to any time thus spent, you will, i trust, allow me to make remuneration. i hope that you will grant me this favour. there is one assistance which i will now venture to beg of you--viz., to get me, if you can, another specimen of an old white angora rabbit. i want it dead for the skeleton; and not knocked on the head. secondly, i see in the "cottage gardener" (march th, page ) there are impure half-lops with one ear quite upright and shorter than the other lopped ear. i much want a dead one. baker cannot get one. baily is looking out; but i want two specimens. can you assist me, if you meet any rabbit-fancier? i have had rabbits with one ear more lopped than the other; but i want one with one ear quite upright and shorter, and the other quite long and lopped. letter . to h.w. bates. down, march th [ ]. i have read your papers with extreme interest, and i have carefully read every word of them. ( / . "contributions to an insect fauna of the amazon valley." (read march th and november th, ). "entomological soc. trans." v., pages and ).) they seem to me to be far richer in facts of variation, and especially on the distribution of varieties and subspecies, than anything which i have read. hereafter i shall re-read them, and hope in my future work to profit by them and make use of them. the amount of variation has much surprised me. the analogous variation of distinct species in the same regions strikes me as particularly curious. the greater variability of the female sex is new to me. your guiana case seems in some degree analogous, as far as plants are concerned, with the modern plains of la plata, which seem to have been colonised from the north, but the species have been hardly modified. ( / . mr. bates (page ) gives reason to believe that the guiana region should be considered "a perfectly independent province," and that it has formed a centre "whence radiated the species which now people the low lands on its borders.") would you kindly answer me two or three questions if in your power? when species a becomes modified in another region into a well-marked form c, but is connected with it by one (or more) gradational forms b inhabiting an intermediate region; does this form b generally exist in equal numbers with a and c, or inhabit an equally large area? the probability is that you cannot answer this question, though one of your cases seems to bear on it... you will, i think, be glad to hear that i now often hear of naturalists accepting my views more or less fully; but some are curiously cautious in running the risk of any small odium in expressing their belief. letter . to h.w. bates. down, april th [ ]. i have been unwell, so have delayed thanking you for your admirable letter. i hope you will not think me presumptuous in saying how much i have been struck with your varied knowledge, and with the decisive manner in which you bring it to bear on each point,--a rare and most high quality, as far as my experience goes. i earnestly hope you will find time to publish largely: before the linnean society you might bring boldly out your views on species. have you ever thought of publishing your travels, and working in them the less abstruse parts of your natural history? i believe it would sell, and be a very valuable contribution to natural history. you must also have seen a good deal of the natives. i know well it would be quite unreasonable to ask for any further information from you; but i will just mention that i am now, and shall be for a long time, writing on domestic varieties of all animals. any facts would be useful, especially any showing that savages take any care in breeding their animals, or in rejecting the bad and preserving the good; or any fancies which they may have that one coloured or marked dog, etc., is better than another. i have already collected much on this head, but am greedy for facts. you will at once see their bearing on variation under domestication. hardly anything in your letter has pleased me more than about sexual selection. in my larger ms. (and indeed in the "origin" with respect to the tuft of hairs on the breast of the cock-turkey) i have guarded myself against going too far; but i did not at all know that male and female butterflies haunted rather different sites. if i had to cut up myself in a review i would have [worried?] and quizzed sexual selection; therefore, though i am fully convinced that it is largely true, you may imagine how pleased i am at what you say on your belief. this part of your letter to me is a quintessence of richness. the fact about butterflies attracted by coloured sepals is another good fact, worth its weight in gold. it would have delighted the heart of old christian c. sprengel--now many years in his grave. i am glad to hear that you have specially attended to "mimetic" analogies--a most curious subject; i hope you publish on it. i have for a long time wished to know whether what dr. collingwood asserts is true--that the most striking cases generally occur between insects inhabiting the same country. letter . to f.w. hutton. down, april th [ ]. i hope that you will permit me to thank you for sending me a copy of your paper in "the geologist" ( / . in a letter to hooker (april rd?, ) darwin refers to hutton's review as "very original," and adds that hutton is "one of the very few who see that the change of species cannot be directly proved..." ("life and letters," ii., page ). the review appeared in "the geologist" (afterwards known as "the geological magazine") for , pages - and - . a letter on "difficulties of darwinism" is published in the same volume of "the geologist," page .), and at the same time to express my opinion that you have done the subject a real service by the highly original, striking, and condensed manner with which you have put the case. i am actually weary of telling people that i do not pretend to adduce direct evidence of one species changing into another, but that i believe that this view in the main is correct, because so many phenomena can be thus grouped together and explained. but it is generally of no use; i cannot make persons see this. i generally throw in their teeth the universally admitted theory of the undulation of light,--neither the undulation nor the very existence of ether being proved, yet admitted because the view explains so much. you are one of the very few who have seen this, and have now put it most forcibly and clearly. i am much pleased to see how carefully you have read my book, and, what is far more important, reflected on so many points with an independent spirit. as i am deeply interested in the subject (and i hope not exclusively under a personal point of view) i could not resist venturing to thank you for the right good service which you have done. i need hardly say that this note requires no answer. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . parts of this letter are published in "life and letters," ii., page .) down, [april] rd, [ ]. i have been much interested by bentham's paper in the "natural history review," but it would not, of course, from familiarity, strike you as it did me. ( / . this refers to bentham's paper "on the species and genera of plants, etc." "nat. hist. review," april, , page , which is founded on, or extracted from, a paper read before the linn. soc., november th, . it had been originally set down to be read on july st, , but gave way to the papers of darwin and wallace. mr. bentham has described ("life and letters," ii., page ) how he reluctantly cancelled the parts urging "original fixity" of specific type, and the remainder seems not to have been published except in the above-quoted paper in the "nat. hist. review.") i liked the whole--all the facts on the nature of close and varying species. good heavens! to think of the british botanists turning up their noses and saying that he knows nothing of british plants! i was also pleased at his remarks on classification, because it showed me that i wrote truly on this subject in the "origin." i saw bentham at the linnean society, and had some talk with him and lubbock and edgeworth, wallich, and several others. i asked bentham to give us his ideas of species; whether partially with us or dead against us, he would write excellent matter. he made no answer, but his manner made me think he might do so if urged--so do you attack him. every one was speaking with affection and anxiety of henslow. i dined with bell at the linnean club, and liked my dinner...dining-out is such a novelty to me that i enjoyed it. bell has a real good heart. i liked rolleston's paper, but i never read anything so obscure and not self-evident as his "canons." ( / . see "nat. hist. review," , page . the paper is "on the brain of the orang utang," and forms part of the bitter controversy of this period to which reference occurs in letters to huxley and elsewhere in these volumes. rolleston's work is quoted by huxley ("man's place in nature," page ) as part of the crushing refutation of owen's position. mr. huxley's letter referred to above is no doubt that in the "athenaeum," april th, , page ; it is certainly severe, but to those who know mr. huxley's "succinct history of the controversy," etc. ("man's place in nature," page ), it will not seem too severe.) i had a dim perception of the truth of your profound remark--that he wrote in fear and trembling "of god, man, and monkeys," but i would alter it into "god, man, owen, and monkeys." huxley's letter was truculent, and i see that every one thinks it too truculent; but in simple truth i am become quite demoniacal about owen--worse than huxley; and i told huxley that i should put myself under his care to be rendered milder. but i mean to try and get more angelic in my feelings; yet i never shall forget his cordial shake of the hand, when he was writing as spitefully as he possibly could against me. but i have always thought that you have more cause than i to be demoniacally inclined towards him. bell told me that owen says that the editor mutilated his article in the "edinburgh review" ( / . this is the only instance, with which we are acquainted, of owen's acknowledging the authorship of the "edinburgh review" article.), and bell seemed to think it was rendered more spiteful by the editor; perhaps the opposite view is as probable. oh, dear! this does not look like becoming more angelic in my temper! i had a splendid long talk with lyell (you may guess how splendid, for he was many times on his knees, with elbows on the sofa) ( / . mr. darwin often spoke of sir charles lyell's tendency to take curious attitudes when excited.) on his work in france: he seems to have done capital work in making out the age of the celt-bearing beds, but the case gets more and more complicated. all, however, tends to greater and greater antiquity of man. the shingle beds seem to be estuary deposits. i called on r. chambers at his very nice house in st. john's wood, and had a very pleasant half-hour's talk--he is really a capital fellow. he made one good remark and chuckled over it: that the laymen universally had treated the controversy on the "essays and reviews" as a merely professional subject, and had not joined in it but had left it to the clergy. i shall be anxious for your next letter about henslow. farewell, with sincere sympathy, my old friend. p.s.--we are very much obliged for "london review." we like reading much of it, and the science is incomparably better than in the "athenaeum." you shall not go on very long sending it, as you will be ruined by pennies and trouble; but i am under a horrid spell to the "athenaeum" and "gardeners' chronicle," both of which are intolerably dull, but i have taken them in for so many years that i cannot give them up. the "cottage gardener," for my purpose, is now far better than the "gardeners' chronicle." letter . to j.l.a. de quatrefages. down, april [ ]. i received this morning your "unite de l'espece humaine" [published in ], and most sincerely do i thank you for this your very kind present. i had heard of and been recommended to read your articles, but, not knowing that they were separately published, did not know how to get them. so your present is most acceptable, and i am very anxious to see your views on the whole subject of species and variation; and i am certain to derive much benefit from your work. in cutting the pages i observe that you have most kindly mentioned my work several times. my views spread slowly in england and america; and i am much surprised to find them most commonly accepted by geologists, next by botanists, and least by zoologists. i am much pleased that the younger and middle-aged geologists are coming round, for the arguments from geology have always seemed strongest against me. not one of the older geologists (except lyell) has been even shaken in his views of the eternal immutability of species. but so many of the younger men are turning round with zeal that i look to the future with some confidence. i am now at work on "variation under domestication," but make slow progress--it is such tedious work comparing skeletons. with very sincere thanks for the kind sympathy which you have always shown me, and with much respect,... p.s.--i have lately read m. naudin's paper ( / . naudin's paper ("revue horticole," ) is mentioned in the "historical sketch" prefixed to the later editions of the "origin" (edition vi., page xix). naudin insisted that species are formed in a manner analogous to the production of varieties by cultivators, i.e., by selection, "but he does not show how selection acts under nature." in the "life and letters," ii., page , darwin, speaking of naudin's work, says: "decaisne seems to think he gives my whole theory."), but it does not seem to me to anticipate me, as he does not show how selection could be applied under nature; but an obscure writer ( / . the obscure writer is patrick matthew (see the "historical sketch" in the "origin.") on forest trees, in , in scotland, most expressly and clearly anticipated my views--though he put the case so briefly that no single person ever noticed the scattered passages in his book. letter . to l. hindmarsh. ( / . the following letter was in reply to one from mr. hindmarsh, to whom mr. darwin had written asking for information on the average number of animals killed each year in the chillingham herd. the object of the request was to obtain information which might throw light on the rate of increase of the cattle relatively to those on the pampas of south america. mr. hindmarsh had contributed a paper "on the wild cattle of chillingham park" to the "annals and mag. nat. hist." volume ii., page , .) down, may th [ ]. i thank you sincerely for your prompt and great kindness, and return the letter, which i have been very glad to see and have had copied. the increase is more rapid than i anticipated, but it seems rather conjectural; i had hoped that in so interesting a case some exact record had been kept. the number of births, or of calves reared till they followed their mothers, would perhaps have been the best datum. from mr. hardy's letter i infer that ten must be annually born to make up the deaths from various causes. in paraguay, azara states that in a herd of , , from , to , are reared; but then, though they do not kill calves, but castrate the young bulls, no doubt the oxen would be killed earlier than the cows, so that the herd would contain probably more of the female sex than the herd at chillingham. there is not apparently any record whether more young bulls are killed than cows. i am surprised that lord tankerville does not have an exact record kept of deaths and sexes and births: after a dozen years it would be an interesting statistical record to the naturalist and agriculturist. (plate: professor henslow.) letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the death of professor henslow (who was sir j.d. hooker's father-in-law) occurred on may th, .) down, may th [ ]. thanks for your two notes. i am glad that the burial is over, and sincerely sympathise and can most fully understand your feelings at your loss. i grieve to think how little i saw of henslow for many years. with respect to a biography of henslow, i cannot help feeling rather doubtful, on the principle that a biography could not do him justice. his letters were generally written in a hurry, and i fear he did not keep any journal or diary. if there were any vivid materials to describe his life as parish priest, and manner of managing the poor, it would be very good. i am never very sanguine on literary projects. i cannot help fearing his life might turn out flat. there can hardly be marked incidents to describe. i sincerely hope that i take a wrong and gloomy view, but i cannot help fearing--i would rather see no life than one that would interest very few. it will be a pleasure and duty in me to consider what i can recollect; but at present i can think of scarcely anything. the equability and perfection of henslow's whole character, i should think, would make it very difficult for any one to pourtray him. i have been thinking about henslow all day a good deal, but the more i think the less i can think of to write down. it is quite a new style for me to set about, but i will continue to think what i could say to give any, however imperfect, notion of him in the old cambridge days. pray give my kindest remembrances to l. jenyns ( / . the rev. leonard jenyns (afterwards blomefield) undertook the "life" of henslow, to which darwin contributed a characteristic and delightful sketch. see letter .), who is often associated with my recollection of those old happy days. letter . henry fawcett to charles darwin. ( / . it was in reply to the following letter that darwin wrote to fawcett: "you could not possibly have told me anything which would have given me more satisfaction than what you say about mr. mill's opinion. until your review appeared i began to think that perhaps i did not understand at all how to reason scientifically." ("life of henry fawcett," by leslie stephen, , page .) bodenham, salisbury, july th [ ]. i feel that i ought not to have so long delayed writing to thank you for your very kind letter to me about my article on your book in "macmillan's magazine." i was particularly anxious to point out that the method of investigation pursued was in every respect philosophically correct. i was spending an evening last week with my friend mr. john stuart mill, and i am sure you will be pleased to hear from such an authority that he considers that your reasoning throughout is in the most exact accordance with the strict principles of logic. he also says the method of investigation you have followed is the only one proper to such a subject. it is easy for an antagonistic reviewer, when he finds it difficult to answer your arguments, to attempt to dispose of the whole matter by uttering some such commonplace as "this is not a baconian induction." i expect shortly to be spending a few days in your neighbourhood, and if i should not be intruding upon you, i should esteem it a great favour if you will allow me to call on you, and have half an hour's conversation with you. as far as i am personally concerned, i am sure i ought to be grateful to you, for since my accident nothing has given me so much pleasure as the perusal of your book. such studies are now a great resource to me. letter . to c. lyell. , hesketh terrace, torquay [august nd, ]. i declare that you read the reviews on the "origin" more carefully than i do. i agree with all your remarks. the point of correlation struck me as well put, and on varieties growing together; but i have already begun to put things in train for information on this latter head, on which bronn also enlarges. with respect to sexuality, i have often speculated on it, and have always concluded that we are too ignorant to speculate: no physiologist can conjecture why the two elements go to form a new being, and, more than that, why nature strives at uniting the two elements from two individuals. what i am now working at in my orchids is an admirable illustration of the law. i should certainly conclude that all sexuality had descended from one prototype. do you not underrate the degree of lowness of organisation in which sexuality occurs--viz., in hydra, and still lower in some of the one-celled free confervae which "conjugate," which good judges (thwaites) believe is the simplest form of true sexual generation? ( / . see letter .) but the whole case is a mystery. there is another point on which i have occasionally wished to say a few words. i believe you think with asa gray that i have not allowed enough for the stream of variation having been guided by a higher power. i have had lately a good deal of correspondence on this head. herschel, in his "physical geography" ( / . "physical geography of the globe," by sir john f.w. herschel, edinburgh, . on page herschel writes of the revelations of geology pointing to successive submersions and reconstructions of the continents and fresh races of animals and plants. he refers to a "great law of change" which has not operated either by a gradually progressing variation of species, nor by a sudden and total abolition of one race...the following footnote on page of the "physical geography" was added in january, : "this was written previous to the publication of mr. darwin's work on the "origin of species," a work which, whatever its merit or ingenuity, we cannot, however, consider as having disproved the view taken in the text. we can no more accept the principle of arbitrary and casual variation and natural selection as a sufficient account, per se, of the past and present organic world, than we can receive the laputan method of composing books (pushed a outrance) as a sufficient one of shakespeare and the "principia." equally in either case an intelligence, guided by a purpose, must be continually in action to bias the directions of the steps of change--to regulate their amount, to limit their divergence, and to continue them in a definite course. we do not believe that mr. darwin means to deny the necessity of such intelligent direction. but it does not, so far as we can see, enter into the formula of this law, and without it we are unable to conceive how far the law can have led to the results. on the other hand, we do not mean to deny that such intelligence may act according to a law (that is to say, on a preconceived and definite plan). such law, stated in words, would be no other than the actual observed law of organic succession; a one more general, taking that form when applied to our own planet, and including all the links of the chain which have disappeared. but the one law is a necessary supplement to the other, and ought, in all logical propriety, to form a part of its enunciation. granting this, and with some demur as to the genesis of man, we are far from disposed to repudiate the view taken of this mysterious subject in mr. darwin's book." the sentence in italics is no doubt the one referred to in the letter to lyell. see letter .), has a sentence with respect to the "origin," something to the effect that the higher law of providential arrangement should always be stated. but astronomers do not state that god directs the course of each comet and planet. the view that each variation has been providentially arranged seems to me to make natural selection entirely superfluous, and indeed takes the whole case of the appearance of new species out of the range of science. but what makes me most object to asa gray's view is the study of the extreme variability of domestic animals. he who does not suppose that each variation in the pigeon was providentially caused, by accumulating which variations, man made a fantail, cannot, i think, logically argue that the tail of the woodpecker was formed by variations providentially ordained. it seems to me that variations in the domestic and wild conditions are due to unknown causes, and are without purpose, and in so far accidental; and that they become purposeful only when they are selected by man for his pleasure, or by what we call natural selection in the struggle for life, and under changing conditions. i do not wish to say that god did not foresee everything which would ensue; but here comes very nearly the same sort of wretched imbroglio as between freewill and preordained necessity. i doubt whether i have made what i think clear; but certainly a. gray's notion of the courses of variation having been led like a stream of water by gravity, seems to me to smash the whole affair. it reminds me of a spaniard whom i told i was trying to make out how the cordillera was formed; and he answered me that it was useless, for "god made them." it may be said that god foresaw how they would be made. i wonder whether herschel would say that you ought always to give the higher providential law, and declare that god had ordered all certain changes of level, that certain mountains should arise. i must think that such views of asa gray and herschel merely show that the subject in their minds is in comte's theological stage of science... of course i do not want any answer to my quasi-theological discussion, but only for you to think of my notions, if you understand them. i hope to heaven your long and great labours on your new edition are drawing to a close. letter . to c. lyell. torquay, [august th, ]. very many thanks for the orchids, which have proved extremely useful to me in two ways i did not anticipate, but were too monstrous (yet of some use) for my special purpose. when you come to "deification" ( / . see letter , note.), ask yourself honestly whether what you are thinking applies to the endless variations of domestic productions, which man accumulates for his mere fancy or use. no doubt these are all caused by some unknown law, but i cannot believe they were ordained for any purpose, and if not so ordained under domesticity, i can see no reason to believe that they were ordained in a state of nature. of course it may be said, when you kick a stone, or a leaf falls from a tree, that it was ordained, before the foundations of the world were laid, exactly where that stone or leaf should lie. in this sense the subject has no interest for me. once again, many thanks for the orchids; you must let me repay you what you paid the collector. letter . to c. lyell. ( / . the first paragraph probably refers to the proof-sheets of lyell's "antiquity of man," but the passage referred to seems not to occur in the book.) torquay, august st [ ]. ...i have really no criticism, except a trifling one in pencil near the end, which i have inserted on account of dominant and important species generally varying most. you speak of "their views" rather as if you were a thousand miles away from such wretches, but your concluding paragraph shows that you are one of the wretches. i am pleased that you approve of hutton's review. ( / . "some remarks on mr. darwin's theory," by f.w. hutton. "geologist," volume iv., page ( ). see letter .) it seemed to me to take a more philosophical view of the manner of judging the question than any other review. the sentence you quote from it seems very true, but i do not agree with the theological conclusion. i think he quotes from asa gray, certainly not from me; but i have neither a. gray nor "origin" with me. indeed, i have over and over again said in the "origin" that natural selection does nothing without variability; i have given a whole chapter on laws, and used the strongest language how ignorant we are on these laws. but i agree that i have somehow (hooker says it is owing to my title) not made the great and manifest importance of previous variability plain enough. breeders constantly speak of selection as the one great means of improvement; but of course they imply individual differences, and this i should have thought would have been obvious to all in natural selection; but it has not been so. i have just said that i cannot agree with "which variations are the effects of an unknown law, ordained and guided without doubt by an intelligent cause on a preconceived and definite plan." will you honestly tell me (and i should be really much obliged) whether you believe that the shape of my nose (eheu!) was ordained and "guided by an intelligent cause?" ( / . it should be remembered that the shape of his nose nearly determined fitz-roy to reject darwin as naturalist to h.m.s. "beagle" ("life and letters," i., page ).) by the selection of analogous and less differences fanciers make almost generic differences in their pigeons; and can you see any good reason why the natural selection of analogous individual differences should not make new species? if you say that god ordained that at some time and place a dozen slight variations should arise, and that one of them alone should be preserved in the struggle for life and the other eleven should perish in the first or few first generations, then the saying seems to me mere verbiage. it comes to merely saying that everything that is, is ordained. let me add another sentence. why should you or i speak of variation as having been ordained and guided, more than does an astronomer, in discussing the fall of a meteoric stone? he would simply say that it was drawn to our earth by the attraction of gravity, having been displaced in its course by the action of some quite unknown laws. would you have him say that its fall at some particular place and time was "ordained and guided without doubt by an intelligent cause on a preconceived and definite plan"? would you not call this theological pedantry or display? i believe it is not pedantry in the case of species, simply because their formation has hitherto been viewed as beyond law; in fact, this branch of science is still with most people under its theological phase of development. the conclusion which i always come to after thinking of such questions is that they are beyond the human intellect; and the less one thinks on them the better. you may say, then why trouble me? but i should very much like to know clearly what you think. letter . to henry fawcett. ( / . the following letter was published in the "life" of mr. fawcett ( ); we are indebted to mrs. fawcett and messrs. smith & elder for permission to reprint it. see letter .) september th [ ]. i wondered who had so kindly sent me the newspaper ( / . the newspaper sent was the "manchester examiner" for september th, , containing a report of mr. fawcett's address given before section d of the british association, "on the method of mr. darwin in his treatise on the origin of species," in which the speaker showed that the "method of investigation pursued by mr. darwin in his treatise on the origin of species is in strict accordance with the principles of logic." the "a" of the letter (as published in fawcett's life) is the late professor williamson, who is reported to have said that "while he would not say that mr. darwin's book had caused him a loss of reputation, he was sure that it had not caused a gain." the reference to "b" is explained by the report of the late dr. lankester's speech in which he said, "the facts brought forward in support of the hypothesis had a very different value indeed from that of the hypothesis...a great naturalist, who was still a friend of mr. darwin, once said to him (dr. lankester), 'the mistake is, that darwin has dealt with origin. why did he not put his facts before us, and let them rest?'" another speaker, the rt. hon. j.r. napier, remarked: "i am going to speak closely to the question. if the hypothesis is put forward to contradict facts, and the averments are contrary to the word of god, i say that it is not a logical argument." at this point the chairman, professor babington, wisely interfered, on the ground that the meeting was a scientific one.), which i was very glad to see; and now i have to thank you sincerely for allowing me to see your ms. it seems to me very good and sound; though i am certainly not an impartial judge. you will have done good service in calling the attention of scientific men to means and laws of philosophising. as far as i could judge by the papers, your opponents were unworthy of you. how miserably a. talked of my reputation, as if that had anything to do with it!...how profoundly ignorant b must be of the very soul of observation! about thirty years ago there was much talk that geologists ought only to observe and not theorise; and i well remember some one saying that at this rate a man might as well go into a gravel-pit and count the pebbles and describe the colours. how odd it is that anyone should not see that all observation must be for or against some view if it is to be of any service! i have returned only lately from a two months' visit to torquay, which did my health at the time good; but i am one of those miserable creatures who are never comfortable for twenty-four hours; and it is clear to me that i ought to be exterminated. i have been rather idle of late, or, speaking more strictly, working at some miscellaneous papers, which, however, have some direct bearing on the subject of species; yet i feel guilty at having neglected my larger book. but, to me, observing is much better sport than writing. i fear that i shall have wearied you with this long note. pray believe that i feel sincerely grateful that you have taken up the cudgels in defence of the line of argument in the "origin;" you will have benefited the subject. many are so fearful of speaking out. a german naturalist came here the other day; and he tells me that there are many in germany on our side, but that all seem fearful of speaking out, and waiting for some one to speak, and then many will follow. the naturalists seem as timid as young ladies should be, about their scientific reputation. there is much discussion on the subject on the continent, even in quiet holland; and i had a pamphlet from moscow the other day by a man who sticks up famously for the imperfection of the "geological record," but complains that i have sadly understated the variability of the old fossilised animals! but i must not run on. letter . to h.w. bates. down, september th [ ]. now for a few words on science. many thanks for facts on neuters. you cannot tell how i rejoice that you do not think what i have said on the subject absurd. only two persons have even noticed it to me--viz., the bitter sneer of owen in the "edinburgh review" ( / . "edinburgh review," april, , page .), and my good friend and supporter, sir c. lyell, who could only screw up courage to say, "well, you have manfully faced the difficulty." what a wonderful case of volucella of which i had never heard. ( / . volucella is a fly--one of the syrphidae--supposed to supply a case of mimicry; this was doubtless the point of interest with bates. dr. sharp says ["insects," part ii. (in the camb. nat. hist. series), , page ]: "it was formerly assumed that the volucella larvae lived on the larvae of the bees, and that the parent flies were providentially endowed with a bee-like appearance that they might obtain entrance into the bees' nests without being detected." dr. sharp goes on to say that what little is known on the subject supports the belief that the "presence of the volucella in the nests is advantageous to both fly and bee.") i had no idea such a case occurred in nature; i must get and see specimens in british museum. i hope and suppose you will give a good deal of natural history in your travels; every one cares about ants--more notice has been taken about slave-ants in the "origin" than of any other passage. i fully expect to delight in your travels. keep to simple style, as in your excellent letters,--but i beg pardon, i am again advising. what a capital paper yours will be on mimetic resemblances! you will make quite a new subject of it. i had thought of such cases as a difficulty; and once, when corresponding with dr. collingwood, i thought of your explanation; but i drove it from my mind, for i felt that i had not knowledge to judge one way or the other. dr c., i think, states that the mimetic forms inhabit the same country, but i did not know whether to believe him. what wonderful cases yours seem to be! could you not give a few woodcuts in your travels to illustrate this? i am tired with a hard day's work, so no more, except to give my sincere thanks and hearty wishes for the success of your travels. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march th [ ]. your letter discusses lots of interesting subjects, and i am very glad you have sent for your letter to bates. ( / . published in mr. clodd's memoir of bates in the "naturalist on the amazons," , page l.) what do you mean by "individual plants"? ( / . in a letter to mr. darwin dated march th, , sir j.d. hooker had discussed a supposed difference between animals and plants, "inasmuch as the individual animal is certainly changed materially by external conditions, the latter (i think) never, except in such a coarse way as stunting or enlarging--e.g. no increase of cold on the spot, or change of individual plant from hot to cold, will induce said individual plant to get more woolly covering; but i suppose a series of cold seasons would bring about such a change in an individual quadruped, just as rowing will harden hands, etc.") i fancied a bud lived only a year, and you could hardly expect any change in that time; but if you call a tree or plant an individual, you have sporting buds. perhaps you mean that the whole tree does not change. tulips, in "breaking," change. fruit seems certainly affected by the stock. i think i have ( / . see note, letter .) got cases of slight change in alpine plants transplanted. all these subjects have rather gone out of my head owing to orchids, but i shall soon have to enter on them in earnest when i come again to my volume on variation under domestication. ...in the lifetime of an animal you would, i think, find it very difficult to show effects of external condition on animals more than shade and light, good and bad soil, produce on a plant. you speak of "an inherent tendency to vary wholly independent of physical conditions"! this is a very simple way of putting the case (as dr. prosper lucas also puts it) ( / . prosper lucas, the author of "traite philosophique et physiologique de l'heredite naturelle dans les etats de sante et de maladie du systeme nerveux": volumes, paris, - .): but two great classes of facts make me think that all variability is due to change in the conditions of life: firstly, that there is more variability and more monstrosities (and these graduate into each other) under unnatural domestic conditions than under nature; and, secondly, that changed conditions affect in an especial manner the reproductive organs--those organs which are to produce a new being. but why one seedling out of thousands presents some new character transcends the wildest powers of conjecture. it was in this sense that i spoke of "climate," etc., possibly producing without selection a hooked seed, or any not great variation. ( / . this statement probably occurs in a letter, and not in darwin's published works.) i have for years and years been fighting with myself not to attribute too much to natural selection--to attribute something to direct action of conditions; and perhaps i have too much conquered my tendency to lay hardly any stress on conditions of life. i am not shaken about "saltus" ( / . sir joseph had written, march th, : "huxley is rather disposed to think you have overlooked saltus, but i am not sure that he is right--saltus quoad individuals is not saltus quoad species--as i pointed out in the begonia case, though perhaps that was rather special pleading in the present state of science." for the begonia case, see "life and letters," ii., page , also letter , page .), i did not write without going pretty carefully into all the cases of normal structure in animals resembling monstrosities which appear per saltus. letter . to j.d. hooker. th [march, ]. thanks also for your own ( / . see note in letter .) and bates' letter now returned. they are both excellent; you have, i think, said all that can be said against direct effects of conditions, and capitally put. but i still stick to my own and bates' side. nevertheless i am pleased to attribute little to conditions, and i wish i had done what you suggest--started on the fundamental principle of variation being an innate principle, and afterwards made a few remarks showing that hereafter, perhaps, this principle would be explicable. whenever my book on poultry, pigeons, ducks, and rabbits is published, with all the measurements and weighings of bones, i think you will see that "use and disuse" at least have some effect. i do not believe in perfect reversion. i rather demur to your doctrine of "centrifugal variation." ( / . the "doctrine of centrifugal variation" is given in sir j.d. hooker's "introductory essay to the flora of tasmania" (part iii. of the botany of the antarctic expedition), , page viii. in paragraph the author writes: "the tendency of varieties, both in nature and under cultivation...is rather to depart more and more widely from the original type than to revert to it." in sir joseph's letter to bates (loc. cit., page lii) he wrote: "darwin also believes in some reversion to type which is opposed to my view of variation." it may be noted in this connection that mr. galton has shown reason to believe in a centripetal tendency in variation (to use hooker's phraseology) which is not identical with the reversion of cultivated plants to their ancestors, the case to which hooker apparently refers. see "natural inheritance," by f. galton, .) i suppose you do not agree with or do not remember my doctrine of the good of diversification ( / . darwin usually used the word "divergence" in this connection.); this seems to me amply to account for variation being centrifugal--if you forget it, look at this discussion (page of rd edition), it was the best point which, according to my notions, i made out, and it has always pleased me. it is really curiously satisfactory to me to see so able a man as bates (and yourself) believing more fully in natural selection than i think i even do myself. ( / . this refers to a very interesting passage in hooker's letter to bates (loc. cit., page liii): "i am sure that with you, as with me, the more you think the less occasion you will see for anything but time and natural selection to effect change; and that this view is the simplest and clearest in the present state of science is one advantage, at any rate. indeed, i think that it is, in the present state of the inquiry, the legitimate position to take up; it is time enough to bother our heads with the secondary cause when there is some evidence of it or some demand for it--at present i do not see one or the other, and so feel inclined to renounce any other for the present.") by the way, i always boast to you, and so i think owen will be wrong that my book will be forgotten in ten years, for a french edition is now going through the press and a second german edition wanted. your long letter to bates has set my head working, and makes me repent of the nine months spent on orchids; though i know not why i should not have amused myself on them as well as slaving on bones of ducks and pigeons, etc. the orchids have been splendid sport, though at present i am fearfully sick of them. i enclose a waste copy of woodcut of mormodes ignea; i wish you had a plant at kew, for i am sure its wonderful mechanism and structure would amuse you. is it not curious the way the labellum sits on the top of the column?--here insects alight and are beautifully shot, when they touch a certain sensitive point, by the pollinia. how kindly you have helped me in my work! farewell, my dear old fellow. letter . to h.w. bates. down, may th [ ]. hearty thanks for your most interesting letter and three very valuable extracts. i am very glad that you have been looking at the south temperate insects. i wish that the materials in the british museum had been richer; but i should think the case of the south american carabi, supported by some other case, would be worth a paper. to us who theorise i am sure the case is very important. do the south american carabi differ more from the other species than do, for instance, the siberian and european and north american and himalayan (if the genus exists there)? if they do, i entirely agree with you that the difference would be too great to account for by the recent glacial period. i agree, also, with you in utterly rejecting an independent origin for these carabi. there is a difficulty, as far as i know, in our ignorance whether insects change quickly in time; you could judge of this by knowing how far closely allied coleoptera generally have much restricted ranges, for this almost implies rapid change. what a curious case is offered by land-shells, which become modified in every sub-district, and have yet retained the same general structure from very remote geological periods! when working at the glacial period, i remember feeling much surprised how few birds, no mammals, and very few sea-mollusca seemed to have crossed, or deeply entered, the inter-tropical regions during the cold period. insects, from all you say, seem to come under the same category. plants seem to migrate more readily than animals. do not underrate the length of glacial period: forbes used to argue that it was equivalent to the whole of the pleistocene period in the warmer latitudes. i believe, with you, that we shall be driven to an older glacial period. i am very sorry to hear about the british museum; it would be hopeless to contend against any one supported by owen. perhaps another chance might occur before very long. how would it be to speak to owen as soon as your own mind is made up? from what i have heard, since talking to you, i fear the strongest personal interest with a minister is requisite for a pension. farewell, and may success attend the acerrimo pro-pugnatori. p.s. i deeply wish you could find some situation in which you could give your time to science; it would be a great thing for science and for yourself. letter . to j.l.a. de quatrefages. down, july th [ ]. i thank you cordially for so kindly and promptly answering my questions. i will quote some of your remarks. the case seems to me of some importance with reference to my heretical notions, for it shows how larvae might be modified. i shall not publish, i daresay, for a year, for much time is expended in experiments. if within this time you should acquire any fresh information on the similarity of the moths of distinct races, and would allow me to quote any facts on your authority, i should feel very grateful. i thank you for your great kindness with respect to the translation of the "origin;" it is very liberal in you, as we differ to a considerable degree. i have been atrociously abused by my religious countrymen; but as i live an independent life in the country, it does not in the least hurt me in any way, except indeed when the abuse comes from an old friend like professor owen, who abuses me and then advances the doctrine that all birds are probably descended from one parent. i wish the translator ( / . mdlle. royer, who translated the first french edition of the "origin.') had known more of natural history; she must be a clever but singular lady, but i never heard of her till she proposed to translate my book. letter . to asa gray. down, july rd [ ]. i received several days ago two large packets, but have as yet read only your letter; for we have been in fearful distress, and i could attend to nothing. our poor boy had the rare case of second rash and sore throat...; and, as if this was not enough, a most serious attack of erysipelas, with typhoid symptoms. i despaired of his life; but this evening he has eaten one mouthful, and i think has passed the crisis. he has lived on port wine every three-quarters of an hour, day and night. this evening, to our astonishment, he asked whether his stamps were safe, and i told him of one sent by you, and that he should see it to-morrow. he answered, "i should awfully like to see it now"; so with difficulty he opened his eyelids and glanced at it, and, with a sigh of satisfaction, said, "all right." children are one's greatest happiness, but often and often a still greater misery. a man of science ought to have none--perhaps not a wife; for then there would be nothing in this wide world worth caring for, and a man might (whether he could is another question) work away like a trojan. i hope in a few days to get my brains in order, and then i will pick out all your orchid letters, and return them in hopes of your making use of them... of all the carpenters for knocking the right nail on the head, you are the very best; no one else has perceived that my chief interest in my orchid book has been that it was a "flank movement" on the enemy. i live in such solitude that i hear nothing, and have no idea to what you allude about bentham and the orchids and species. but i must enquire. by the way, one of my chief enemies (the sole one who has annoyed me), namely owen, i hear has been lecturing on birds; and admits that all have descended from one, and advances as his own idea that the oceanic wingless birds have lost their wings by gradual disuse. he never alludes to me, or only with bitter sneers, and coupled with buffon and the "vestiges." well, it has been an amusement to me this first evening, scribbling as egotistically as usual about myself and my doings; so you must forgive me, as i know well your kind heart will do. i have managed to skim the newspaper, but had not heart to read all the bloody details. good god! what will the end be? perhaps we are too despondent here; but i must think you are too hopeful on your side of the water. i never believed the "canards" of the army of the potomac having capitulated. my good dear wife and self are come to wish for peace at any price. good night, my good friend. i will scribble on no more. one more word. i should like to hear what you think about what i say in the last chapter of the orchid book on the meaning and cause of the endless diversity of means for the same general purpose. it bears on design, that endless question. good night, good night! letter . to c. lyell. , carlton terrace, southampton, august nd [ ]. you say that the bishop and owen will be down on you ( / . this refers to the "antiquity of man," which was published in .): the latter hardly can, for i was assured that owen, in his lectures this spring, advanced as a new idea that wingless birds had lost their wings by disuse. ( / . the first paragraph of this letter was published in "life and letters," ii., pages , .) also that magpies stole spoons, etc., from a remnant of some instinct like that of the bower-bird, which ornaments its playing passage with pretty feathers. indeed, i am told that he hinted plainly that all birds are descended from one. what an unblushing man he must be to lecture thus after abusing me so, and never to have openly retracted, or alluded to my book! letter . to john lubbock (lord avebury). cliff cottage, bournemouth, september th [ ]. many thanks for your pleasant note in return for all my stupid trouble. i did not fully appreciate your insect-diving case ( / . "on two aquatic hymenoptera, one of which uses its wings in swimming." by john lubbock. "trans. linn. soc." volume xxiv., , pages - .) [read may th, .] in this paper lubbock describes a new species of polynema--p. natans--which swims by means of its wings, and is capable of living under water for several hours; the other species, referred to a new genus prestwichia, lives under water, holds its wings motionless and uses its legs as oars.) before your last note, nor had i any idea that the fact was new, though new to me. it is really very interesting. of course you will publish an account of it. you will then say whether the insect can fly well through the air. ( / . in describing the habits of polynema, lubbock writes, "i was unfortunately unable to ascertain whether they could fly" (loc. cit., page ).) my wife asked, "how did he find that it stayed four hours under water without breathing?" i answered at once: "mrs. lubbock sat four hours watching." i wonder whether i am right. i long to be at home and at steady work, and i hope we may be in another month. i fear it is hopeless my coming to you, for i am squashier than ever, but hope two shower-baths a day will give me a little strength, so that you will, i hope, come to us. it is an age since i have seen you or any scientific friend. i heard from lyell the other day in the isle of wight, and from hooker in scotland. about huxley i know nothing, but i hope his book progresses, for i shall be very curious to see it. ( / . "man's place in nature." london, .) i do nothing here except occasionally look at a few flowers, and there are very few here, for the country is wonderfully barren. see what it is to be well trained. horace said to me yesterday, "if every one would kill adders they would come to sting less." i answered: "of course they would, for there would be fewer." he replied indignantly: "i did not mean that; but the timid adders which run away would be saved, and in time would never sting at all." natural selection of cowards! letter . h. falconer to charles darwin. ( / . this refers to the ms. of falconer's paper "on the american fossil elephant of the regions bordering the gulf of mexico (e. columbi, falc.)," published in the "natural history review," january, , page . the section dealing with the bearing of his facts on darwin's views is at page . he insists strongly (page ) on the "persistence and uniformity of the characters of the molar teeth in the earliest known mammoth, and his most modern successor." nevertheless, he adds that the "inferences i draw from these facts are not opposed to one of the leading propositions of darwin's theory." these admissions were the more satisfactory since, as falconer points out (page ), "i have been included by him in the category of those who have vehemently maintained the persistence of specific characters.") , park crescent, portland place, n.w., september th [ ]. do not be frightened at the enclosure. i wish to set myself right by you before i go to press. i am bringing out a heavy memoir on elephants--an omnium gatherum affair, with observations on the fossil and recent species. one section is devoted to the persistence in time of the specific characters of the mammoth. i trace him from before the glacial period, through it and after it, unchangeable and unchanged as far as the organs of digestion (teeth) and locomotion are concerned. now, the glacial period was no joke: it would have made ducks and drakes of your dear pigeons and doves. with all my shortcomings, i have such a sincere and affectionate regard for you and such admiration of your work, that i should be pained to find that i had expressed my honest convictions in a way that would be open to any objection by you. the reasoning may be very stupid, but i believe that the observation is sound. will you, therefore, look over the few pages which i have sent, and tell me whether you find any flaw, or whether you think i should change the form of expression? you have been so unhandsomely and uncandidly dealt with by a friend of yours and mine that i should be sorry to find myself in the position of an opponent to you, and more particularly with the chance of making a fool of myself. i met your brother yesterday, who tells me you are coming to town. i hope you will give me a hail. i long for a jaw with you, and have much to speak to you about. you will have seen the eclaircissement about the eocene monkeys of england. by a touch of the conjuring wand they have been metamorphosed--a la darwin--into hyracotherian pigs. ( / . "on the hyracotherian character of the lower molars of the supposed macacus from the eocene sand of kyson, suffolk." "ann. mag. nat. hist." volume x., , page . in this note owen stated that the teeth which he had named macacus ("ann. mag." , page ) most probably belonged to hyracotherium cuniculus. see "a catalogue of british fossil vertebrata," a.s. woodward and c.d. sherborn, , under hyracotherium, page ; also zittel's "handbuch der palaeontologie" abth. i., bd. iv., leipzig, - , page .) would you believe it? this even is a gross blunder. they are not pigs. letter . to hugh falconer. down, october st [ ]. on my return home yesterday i found your letter and ms., which i have read with extreme interest. your note and every word in your paper are expressed with the same kind feeling which i have experienced from you ever since i have had the happiness of knowing you. i value scientific praise, but i value incomparably higher such kind feeling as yours. there is not a single word in your paper to which i could possibly object: i should be mad to do so; its only fault is perhaps its too great kindness. your case seems the most striking one which i have met with of the persistence of specific characters. it is very much the more striking as it relates to the molar teeth, which differ so much in the species of the genus, and in which consequently i should have expected variation. as i read on i felt not a little dumbfounded, and thought to myself that whenever i came to this subject i should have to be savage against myself; and i wondered how savage you would be. i trembled a little. my only hope was that something could be made out of the bog n. american forms, which you rank as a geographical race; and possibly hereafter out of the sicilian species. guess, then, my satisfaction when i found that you yourself made a loophole ( / . this perhaps refers to a passage ("n.h. review," , page ) in which falconer allows the existence of intermediate forms along certain possible lines of descent. falconer's reference to the sicilian elephants is in a note on page ; the bog-elephant is mentioned on page .), which i never, of course, could have guessed at; and imagine my still greater satisfaction at your expressing yourself as an unbeliever in the eternal immutability of species. your final remarks on my work are too generous, but have given me not a little pleasure. as for criticisms, i have only small ones. when you speak of "moderate range of variation" i cannot but think that you ought to remind your readers (though i daresay previously done) what the amount is, including the case of the american bog-mammoth. you speak of these animals as having been exposed to a vast range of climatal changes from before to after the glacial period. i should have thought, from analogy of sea-shells, that by migration (or local extinction when migration not possible) these animals might and would have kept under nearly the same climate. a rather more important consideration, as it seems to me, is that the whole proboscidean group may, i presume, be looked at as verging towards extinction: anyhow, the extinction has been complete as far as europe and america are concerned. numerous considerations and facts have led me in the "origin" to conclude that it is the flourishing or dominant members of each order which generally give rise to new races, sub-species, and species; and under this point of view i am not at all surprised at the constancy of your species. this leads me to remark that the sentence at the bottom of page [ ] is not applicable to my views ( / . see falconer at the bottom of page : it is the old difficulty--how can variability co-exist with persistence of type? in our copy of the letter the passage is given as occurring on page , a slip of the pen for page .), though quite applicable to those who attribute modification to the direct action of the conditions of life. an elephant might be more individually variable than any known quadruped (from the effects of the conditions of life or other innate unknown causes), but if these variations did not aid the animal in better resisting all hostile influences, and therefore making it increase in numbers, there would be no tendency to the preservation and accumulation of such variations--i.e. to the formation of a new race. as the proboscidean group seems to be from utterly unknown causes a failing group in many parts of the world, i should not have anticipated the formation of new races. you make important remarks versus natural selection, and you will perhaps be surprised that i do to a large extent agree with you. i could show you many passages, written as strongly as i could in the "origin," declaring that natural selection can do nothing without previous variability; and i have tried to put equally strongly that variability is governed by many laws, mostly quite unknown. my title deceives people, and i wish i had made it rather different. your phyllotaxis ( / . falconer, page : "the law of phyllotaxis...is nearly as constant in its manifestation as any of the physical laws connected with the material world.") will serve as example, for i quite agree that the spiral arrangement of a certain number of whorls of leaves (however that may have primordially arisen, and whether quite as invariable as you state), governs the limits of variability, and therefore governs what natural selection can do. let me explain how it arose that i laid so much stress on natural selection, and i still think justly. i came to think from geographical distribution, etc., etc., that species probably change; but for years i was stopped dead by my utter incapability of seeing how every part of each creature (a woodpecker or swallow, for instance) had become adapted to its conditions of life. this seemed to me, and does still seem, the problem to solve; and i think natural selection solves it, as artificial selection solves the adaptation of domestic races for man's use. but i suspect that you mean something further,--that there is some unknown law of evolution by which species necessarily change; and if this be so, i cannot agree. this, however, is too large a question even for so unreasonably long a letter as this. nevertheless, just to explain by mere valueless conjectures how i imagine the teeth of your elephants change, i should look at the change as indirectly resulting from changes in the form of the jaws, or from the development of tusks, or in the case of the primigenius even from correlation with the woolly covering; in all cases natural selection checking the variation. if, indeed, an elephant would succeed better by feeding on some new kinds of food, then any variation of any kind in the teeth which favoured their grinding power would be preserved. now, i can fancy you holding up your hands and crying out what bosh! to return to your concluding sentence: far from being surprised, i look at it as absolutely certain that very much in the "origin" will be proved rubbish; but i expect and hope that the framework will stand. ( / . falconer, page : "he [darwin] has laid the foundations of a great edifice: but he need not be surprised if, in the progress of erection, the superstructure is altered by his successors...") i had hoped to have called on you on monday evening, but was quite knocked up. i saw lyell yesterday morning. he was very curious about your views, and as i had to write to him this morning i could not help telling him a few words on your views. i suppose you are tired of the "origin," and will never read it again; otherwise i should like you to have the third edition, and would gladly send it rather than you should look at the first or second edition. with cordial thanks for your generous kindness. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. royal gardens, kew, november th, . i am greatly relieved by your letter this morning about my arctic essay, for i had been conjuring up some egregious blunder (like the granitic plains of patagonia).. certes, after what you have told me of dawson, he will not like the letter i wrote to him days ago, in which i told him that it was impossible to entertain a strong opinion against the darwinian hypothesis without its giving rise to a mental twist when viewing matters in which that hypothesis was or might be involved. i told him i felt that this was so with me when i opposed you, and that all minds are subject to such obliquities!--the lord help me, and this to an ll.d. and principal of a college! i proceeded to discuss his geology with the effrontery of a novice; and, thank god, i urged the very argument of your letter about evidence of subsidence--viz., not all submerged at once, and glacial action being subaerial and not oceanic. your letter hence was a relief, for i felt i was hardly strong enough to have launched out as i did to a professed geologist. ( / . [on the subject of the above letter, see one of earlier date by sir j.d. hooker (november nd, ) given in the present work (letter ) with darwin's reply (letter ).]) letter . to hugh falconer. down, november th [ ]. i have read your paper ( / . "on the disputed affinity of the mammalian genus plagiaulax, from the purbeck beds."--"quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., page , .) with extreme interest, and i thank you for sending it, though i should certainly have carefully read it, or anything with your name, in the journal. it seems to me a masterpiece of close reasoning: although, of course, not a judge of such subjects, i cannot feel any doubt that it is conclusive. will owen answer you? i expect that from his arrogant view of his own position he will not answer. your paper is dreadfully severe on him, but perfectly courteous, and polished as the finest dagger. how kind you are towards me: your first sentence ( / . "one of the most accurate observers and original thinkers of our time has discoursed with emphatic eloquence on the imperfection of the geological record.") has pleased me more than perhaps it ought to do, if i had any modesty in my composition. by the way, after reading the first whole paragraph, i re-read it, not for matter, but for style; and then it suddenly occurred to me that a certain man once said to me, when i urged him to publish some of his miscellaneous wealth of knowledge, "oh, he could not write,--he hated it," etc. you false man, never say that to me again. your incidental remark on the remarkable specialisation of plagiaulax ( / . "if plagiaulax be regarded through the medium of the view advocated with such power by darwin, through what a number of intermediate forms must not the genus have passed before it attained the specialised condition in which the fossils come before us!") (which has stuck in my gizzard ever since i read your first paper) as bearing on the number of preceding forms, is quite new to me, and, of course, is in accordance to my notions a most impressive argument. i was also glad to be reminded of teeth of camel and tarsal bones. ( / . op. cit. page . a reference to cuvier's instance "of the secret relation between the upper canine-shaped incisors of the camel and the bones of the tarsus.") descent from an intermediate form, ahem! well, all i can say is that i have not been for a long time more interested with a paper than with yours. it gives me a demoniacal chuckle to think of owen's pleasant countenance when he reads it. i have not been in london since the end of september; when i do come i will beat up your quarters if i possibly can; but i do not know what has come over me. i am worse than ever in bearing any excitement. even talking of an evening for less than two hours has twice recently brought on such violent vomiting and trembling that i dread coming up to london. i hear that you came out strong at cambridge ( / . prof. owen, in a communication to the british association at cambridge ( ) "on a tooth of mastodon from the tertiary marls, near shanghai," brought forward the case of the australian mastodon as a proof of the remarkable geographical distribution of the proboscidia. in a subsequent discussion he frankly abandoned it, in consequence of the doubts then urged regarding its authenticity. (see footnote, page , in falconer's paper "on the american fossil elephant," "nat. hist. review," .)), and am heartily glad you attacked the australian mastodon. i never did or could believe in him. i wish you would read my little primula paper in the "linnean journal," volume vi. botany (no. ), page (i have no copy which i can spare), as i think there is a good chance that you may have observed similar cases. this is my real hobby-horse at present. i have re-tested this summer the functional difference of the two forms in primula, and find all strictly accurate. if you should know of any cases analogous, pray inform me. farewell, my good and kind friend. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter is interesting in connection with a letter addressed to sir j.d. hooker, march th, , no. , where the value of natural selection is stated more strongly by sir joseph than by darwin. it is unfortunate that sir joseph's letter, to which this is a reply, has not been found.) down, november th [ ]. your last letter has interested me to an extraordinary degree, and your truly parsonic advice, "some other wise and discreet person," etc., etc., amused us not a little. i will put a concrete case to show what i think a. gray believes about crossing and what i believe. if , pigeons were bred together in a cage for , years their number not being allowed to increase by chance killing, then from mutual intercrossing no varieties would arise; but, if each pigeon were a self-fertilising hermaphrodite, a multitude of varieties would arise. this, i believe, is the common effect of crossing, viz., the obliteration of incipient varieties. i do not deny that when two marked varieties have been produced, their crossing will produce a third or more intermediate varieties. possibly, or probably, with domestic varieties, with a strong tendency to vary, the act of crossing tends to give rise to new characters; and thus a third or more races, not strictly intermediate, may be produced. but there is heavy evidence against new characters arising from crossing wild forms; only intermediate races are then produced. now, do you agree thus far? if not, it is no use arguing; we must come to swearing, and i am convinced i can swear harder than you, therefore i am right. q.e.d. if the number of , pigeons were prevented increasing not by chance killing, but by, say, all the shorter-beaked birds being killed, then the whole body would come to have longer beaks. do you agree? thirdly, if , pigeons were kept in a hot country, and another , in a cold country, and fed on different food, and confined in different-size aviary, and kept constant in number by chance killing, then i should expect as rather probable that after , years the two bodies would differ slightly in size, colour, and perhaps other trifling characters; this i should call the direct action of physical conditions. by this action i wish to imply that the innate vital forces are somehow led to act rather differently in the two cases, just as heat will allow or cause two elements to combine, which otherwise would not have combined. i should be especially obliged if you would tell me what you think on this head. but the part of your letter which fairly pitched me head over heels with astonishment, is that where you state that every single difference which we see might have occurred without any selection. i do and have always fully agreed; but you have got right round the subject, and viewed it from an entirely opposite and new side, and when you took me there i was astounded. when i say i agree, i must make the proviso, that under your view, as now, each form long remains adapted to certain fixed conditions, and that the conditions of life are in the long run changeable; and second, which is more important, that each individual form is a self-fertilising hermaphrodite, so that each hair-breadth variation is not lost by intercrossing. your manner of putting the case would be even more striking than it is if the mind could grapple with such numbers--it is grappling with eternity--think of each of a thousand seeds bringing forth its plant, and then each a thousand. a globe stretching to the furthest fixed star would very soon be covered. i cannot even grapple with the idea, even with races of dogs, cattle, pigeons, or fowls; and here all admit and see the accurate strictness of your illustration. such men as you and lyell thinking that i make too much of a deus of natural selection is a conclusive argument against me. yet i hardly know how i could have put in, in all parts of my book, stronger sentences. the title, as you once pointed out, might have been better. no one ever objects to agriculturalists using the strongest language about their selection, yet every breeder knows that he does not produce the modification which he selects. my enormous difficulty for years was to understand adaptation, and this made me, i cannot but think, rightly, insist so much on natural selection. god forgive me for writing at such length; but you cannot tell how much your letter has interested me, and how important it is for me with my present book in hand to try and get clear ideas. do think a bit about what is meant by direct action of physical conditions. i do not mean whether they act; my facts will throw some light on this. i am collecting all cases of bud-variations, in contradistinction to seed-variations (do you like this term, for what some gardeners call "sports"?); these eliminate all effects of crossing. pray remember how much i value your opinion as the clearest and most original i ever get. i see plainly that welwitschia ( / . sir joseph's great paper on welwitschia mirabilis was published in the "linn. soc. trans." .) will be a case of barnacles. i have another plant to beg, but i write on separate paper as more convenient for you to keep. i meant to have said before, as an excuse for asking for so much from kew, that i have now lost two seasons, by accursed nurserymen not having right plants, and sending me the wrong instead of saying that they did not possess. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, th [november, ]. i have just received enclosed for you, and i have thought that you would like to read the latter half of a. gray's letter to me, as it is political and nearly as mad as ever in our english eyes. you will see how the loss of the power of bullying is in fact the sore loss to the men of the north from disunion. i return with thanks bates' letter, which i was glad to see. it was very good of you writing to him, for he is evidently a man who wants encouragement. i have now finished his paper (but have read nothing else in the volume); it seems to me admirable. to my mind the act of segregation of varieties into species was never so plainly brought forward, and there are heaps of capital miscellaneous observations. i hardly know why i am a little sorry, but my present work is leading me to believe rather more in the direct action of physical conditions. i presume i regret it, because it lessens the glory of natural selection, and is so confoundedly doubtful. perhaps i shall change again when i get all my facts under one point of view, and a pretty hard job this will be. ( / . this paragraph was published in "life and letters," ii., page . it is not clear why a belief in "direct action" should diminish the glory of natural selection, since the changes so produced must, like any other variations, pass through the ordeal of the survival of the fittest. on the whole question of direct action see mr. adam sedgwick's "presidential address to the zoological section of the british association," .) letter . to h.w. bates. down, november th [ ?]. i should think it was not necessary to get a written agreement. ( / . mr. bates' book, "a naturalist on the amazons," was published in .) i have never had one from murray. i suppose you have a letter with terms; if not, i should think you had better ask for one to prevent misunderstandings. i think sir c. lyell told me he had not any formal agreements. i am heartily glad to hear that your book is progressing. could you find me some place, even a footnote (though these are in nine cases out of ten objectionable), where you could state, as fully as your materials permit, all the facts about similar varieties pairing,--at a guess how many you caught, and how many now in your collection? i look at this fact as very important; if not in your book, put it somewhere else, or let me have cases. i entirely agree with you on the enormous advantage of thoroughly studying one group. i really have no criticism to make. ( / . mr. bates' paper on mimetic butterflies was read before the linnean society, november st, , and published in the "linn. soc. trans." xxiii., , page , under the title of "contributions to an insect fauna of the amazon valley.") style seems to me very good and clear; but i much regret that in the title or opening passage you did not blow a loud trumpet about what you were going to show. perhaps the paper would have been better more divided into sections with headings. perhaps you might have given somewhere rather more of a summary on the progress of segregation of varieties, and not referred your readers to the descriptive part, excepting such readers as wanted minute detail. but these are trifles: i consider your paper as a most admirable production in every way. whenever i come to variation under natural conditions (my head for months has been exclusively occupied with domestic varieties), i shall have to study and re-study your paper, and no doubt shall then have to plague you with questions. i am heartily glad to hear that you are well. i have been compelled to write in a hurry; so excuse me. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. i was on the point of adding to an order to williams & norgate for your lectures ( / . "a course of six lectures to working men," published in six pamphlets by hardwicke, and later as a book. see letter .) when they arrived, and much obliged i am. i have read them with interest, and they seem to me very good for this purpose and capitally written, as is everything which you write. i suppose every book nowadays requires some pushing, so that if you do not wish these lectures to be extensively circulated, i suppose they will not; otherwise i should think they would do good and spread a taste for the natural sciences. anyhow, i have liked them; but i get more and more, i am sorry to say, to care for nothing but natural history; and chiefly, as you once said, for the mere species question. i think i liked no. iii. the best of all. i have often said and thought that the process of scientific discovery was identical with everyday thought, only with more care; but i never succeeded in putting the case to myself with one-tenth of the clearness with which you have done. i think your second geological section will puzzle your non-scientific readers; anyhow, it has puzzled me, and with the strong middle line, which must represent either a line of stratification or some great mineralogical change, i cannot conceive how your statement can hold good. i am very glad to hear of your "three-year-old" vigour [?]; but i fear, with all your multifarious work, that your book on man will necessarily be delayed. you bad man; you say not a word about mrs. huxley, of whom my wife and self are always truly anxious to hear. p.s. i see in the "cornhill magazine" a notice of a work by cohn, which apparently is important, on the contractile tissue of plants. ( / . "ueber contractile gewebe im pflanzenreiche." "abhand. der schlesischen gesellschaft fur vaterlandische cultur," heft i., .) you ought to have it reviewed. i have ordered it, and must try and make out, if i can, some of the accursed german, for i am much interested in the subject, and experimented a little on it this summer, and came to the conclusion that plants must contain some substance most closely analogous to the supposed diffused nervous matter in the lower animals; or as, i presume, it would be more accurate to say with cohn, that they have contractile tissue. lecture vi., page , line from top--wetting feet or bodies? (miss henrietta darwin's criticism.) ( / . lecture vi., page : lamarck "said, for example, that the short-legged birds, which live on fish, had been converted into the long-legged waders by desiring to get the fish without wetting their feet." their criticisms on lectures iv. and vi. are on a separate piece of undated paper, and must belong to a letter of later date; only three lectures were published by december th, .) lecture iv., page --atavism. you here and there use atavism = inheritance. duchesne, who, i believe, invented the word, in his strawberry book confined it, as every one has since done, to resemblance to grandfather or more remote ancestor, in contradistinction to resemblance to parents. letter . to john scott. ( / . the following is the first of a series of letters addressed to the late john scott, of which the major part is given in our botanical chapters. we have been tempted to give this correspondence fully not only because of its intrinsic scientific interest, but also because they are almost the only letters which show darwin in personal relation with a younger man engaged in research under his supervision.) [ ?] to the best of my judgment, no subject is so important in relation to theoretical natural science, in several respects, and likewise in itself deserving investigation, as the effects of changed or unnatural conditions, or of changed structure on the reproductive system. under this point of view the relation of well-marked but undoubted varieties in fertilising each other requires far more experiments than have been tried. see in the "origin" the brief abstract of gartner on verbascum and zea. mr. w. crocker, lately foreman at kew and a very good observer, is going at my suggestion to work varieties of hollyhock. ( / . altheae species. these experiments seem not to have been carried out.) the climate would be too cold, i suppose, for varieties of tobacco. i began on cabbages, but immediately stopped from early shedding of their pollen causing too much trouble. your knowledge would suggest some [plants]. on the same principle it would be well to test peloric flowers with their own pollen, and with pollen of regular flowers, and try pollen of peloric on regular flowers--seeds being counted in each case. i have now got one seedling from many crosses of a peloric pelargonium by peloric pollen; i have two or three seedlings from a peloric flower by pollen of regular flower. i have ordered a peloric antirrhinum ( / . see "variation of animals and plants," edition i., volume ii., page .) and the peloric gloxinia, but i much fear i shall never have time to try them. the passiflora cases are truly wonderful, like the crinum cases (see "origin"). ( / . "origin," edition vi., page .) i have read in a german paper that some varieties of potatoes (name not given) cannot be fertilised by [their] own pollen, but can by pollen of other varieties: well worth trying. again, fertility of any monster flower, which is pretty regularly produced; i have got the wonderful begonia frigida ( / . the species on which sir j.d. hooker wrote in the "gardeners' chronicle," february th, . see "life and letters," ii., page .) from kew, but doubt whether i have heat to set its seeds. if an unmodified celosia could be got, it would be well to test with the modified cockscomb. there is a variation of columbine [aquilegia] with simple petals without nectaries, etc., etc. i never could think what to try; but if one could get hold of a long-cultivated plant which crossed with a distinct species and yielded a very small number of seeds, then it would be highly good to test comparatively the wild parent-form and its varying offspring with this third species: for instance, if a polyanthus would cross with some species of primula, then to try a wild cowslip with it. i believe hardly any primulas have ever been crossed. if we knew and could get the parent of the carnation ( / . dianthus caryophyllus, garden variety.), it would be very good for this end. any member of the lythraceae raised from seed ought to be well looked after for dimorphism. i have wonderful facts, the result of experiment, on lythrum salicaria. letter . to john scott. down, december th [ ]. i have read your paper with much interest. ( / . "on the nature and peculiarities of the fern-spore." "bot. soc. edin." read june th, .) you ask for remarks on the matter, which is alone really important. shall you think me impertinent (i am sure i do not mean to be so) if i hazard a remark on the style, which is of more importance than some think? in my opinion (whether or no worth much) your paper would have been much better if written more simply and less elaborated--more like your letters. it is a golden rule always to use, if possible, a short old saxon word. such a sentence as "so purely dependent is the incipient plant on the specific morphological tendency" does not sound to my ears like good mother-english--it wants translating. here and there you might, i think, have condensed some sentences. i go on the plan of thinking every single word which can be omitted without actual loss of sense as a decided gain. now perhaps you will think me a meddling intruder: anyhow, it is the advice of an old hackneyed writer who sincerely wishes you well. your remark on the two sexes counteracting variability in product of the one is new to me. ( / . scott (op. cit., page ): "the reproductive organs of phoenogams, as is well-known, are always products of two morphologically distinct organs, the stamens producing the pollen, the carpels producing the ovules...the embryo being in this case the modified resultant of two originally distinct organs, there will necessarily be a greater tendency to efface any individual peculiarities of these than would have been the case had the embryo been the product of a single organ." a different idea seems to have occurred to mr. darwin, for in an undated letter to scott he wrote: "i hardly know what to say on your view of male and female organs and variability. i must think more over it. but i was amused by finding the other day in my portfolio devoted to bud-variation a slip of paper dated june, , with some such words as these, 'may not permanence of grafted buds be due to the two sexual elements derived from different parts not having come into play?' i had utterly forgotten, when i read your paper that any analogous notion had ever passed through my mind--nor can i now remember, but the slip shows me that it had." it is interesting that huxley also came to a conclusion differing from scott's; and, curiously enough, darwin confused the two views, for he wrote to scott (december th): "by an odd chance, reading last night some short lectures just published by prof. huxley, i find your observation, independently arrived at by him, on the confluence of the two sexes causing variability." professor huxley's remarks are in his "lectures to working men on our knowledge, etc." no. , page : "and, indeed, i think that a certain amount of variation from the primitive stock is the necessary result of the method of sexual propagation itself; for inasmuch as the thing propagated proceeds from two organisms of different sexes and different makes and temperaments, and, as the offspring is to be either of one sex or the other, it is quite clear that it cannot be an exact diagonal of the two, or it would be of no sex at all; it cannot be an exact intermediate form between that of each of its parents--it must deviate to one side or the other.") but i cannot avoid thinking that there is something unknown and deeper in seminal generation. reflect on the long succession of embryological changes in every animal. does a bud ever produce cotyledons or embryonic leaves? i have been much interested by your remark on inheritance at corresponding ages; i hope you will, as you say, continue to attend to this. is it true that female primula plants always produce females by parthenogenesis? ( / . it seems probable that darwin here means vegetative reproduction.) if you can answer this i should be glad; it bears on my primula work. i thought on the subject, but gave up investigating what had been observed, because the female bee by parthenogenesis produces males alone. your paper has told me much that in my ignorance was quite new to me. thanks about p. scotica. if any important criticisms are made on the primula to the botanical society, i should be glad to hear them. if you think fit, you may state that i repeated the crossing experiments on p. sinensis and cowslip with the same result this spring as last year--indeed, with rather more marked difference in fertility of the two crosses. in fact, had i then proved the linum case, i would not have wasted time in repetition. i am determined i will at once publish on linum... i was right to be cautious in supposing you in error about siphocampylus (no flowers were enclosed). i hope that you will make out whether the pistil presents two definite lengths; i shall be astounded if it does. i do not fully understand your objections to natural selection; if i do, i presume they would apply with full force to, for instance, birds. reflect on modification of arab-turk horse into our english racehorse. i have had the satisfaction to tell my publisher to send my "journal" and "origin" to your address. i suspect, with your fertile mind, you will find it far better to experiment on your own choice; but if, on reflection, you would like to try some which interest me, i should be truly delighted, and in this case would write in some detail. if you have the means to repeat gartner's experiments on variations of verbascum or on maize (see the "origin"), such experiments would be pre-eminently important. i could never get variations of verbascum. i could suggest an experiment on potatoes analogous with the case of passiflora; even the case of passiflora, often as it has been repeated, might be with advantage repeated. i have worked like a slave (having counted about nine thousand seeds) on melastoma, on the meaning of the two sets of very different stamens, and as yet have been shamefully beaten, and i now cry for aid. i could suggest what i believe a very good scheme (at least, dr. hooker thought so) for systematic degeneration of culinary plants, and so find out their origin; but this would be laborious and the work of years. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, th [december, ]. my good old friend-- how kind you have been to give me so much of your time! your letter is of real use, and has been and shall be well considered. i am much pleased to find that we do not differ as much as i feared. i begin my book with saying that my chief object is to show the inordinate scale of variation; i have especially studied all sorts of variations of the individual. on crossing i cannot change; the more i think, the more reason i have to believe that my conclusion would be agreed to by all practised breeders. i also greatly doubt about variability and domestication being at all necessarily correlative, but i have touched on this in "origin." plants being identical under very different conditions has always seemed to me a very heavy argument against what i call direct action. i think perhaps i will take the case of , pigeons ( / . see letter .) to sum up my volume; i will not discuss other points, but, as i have said, i shall recur to your letter. but i must just say that if sterility be allowed to come into play, if long-beaked be in the least degree sterile with short-beaked, my whole case is altered. by the way, my notions on hybridity are becoming considerably altered by my dimorphic work. i am now strongly inclined to believe that sterility is at first a selected quality to keep incipient species distinct. if you have looked at lythrum you will see how pollen can be modified merely to favour crossing; with equal readiness it could be modified to prevent crossing. it is this which makes me so much interested with dimorphism, etc. ( / . this gives a narrow impression of darwin's interest in dimorphism. the importance of his work was (briefly put) the proof that sterility has no necessary connection with specific difference, but depends on sexual differentiation independent of racial differences. see "life and letters," iii., page . his point of view that sterility is a selected quality is again given in a letter to huxley ("life and letters," ii., page ), but was not upheld in his later writings (see "origin of species," edition vi., page ). the idea of sterility being a selected quality is interesting in connection with romanes' theory of physiological selection. (see letters - .)) one word more. when you pitched me head over heels by your new way of looking at the back side of variation, i received assurance and strength by considering monsters--due to law: horribly strange as they are, the monsters were alive till at least when born. they differ at least as much from the parent as any one mammal from another. i have just finished a long, weary chapter on simple facts of variation of cultivated plants, and am now refreshing myself with a paper on linum for the linnean society. letter . to w.b. tegetmeier. ( / . the following letter also bears on the question of the artificial production of sterility.) down, th [december, ]. the present plan is to try whether any existing breeds happen to have acquired accidentally any degree of sterility; but to this point hereafter. the enclosed ms. will show what i have done and know on the subject. please at some future time carefully return the ms. to me. if i were going to try again, i would prefer turbit with carrier or dragon. i will suggest an analogous experiment, which i have had for two years in my experimental book with "be sure and try," but which, as my health gets yearly weaker and weaker and my other work increases, i suppose i shall never try. permit me to add that if pounds would cover the expenses of the experiment, i should be delighted to give it, and you could publish the result if there be any result. i crossed the spanish cock (your bird) and white silk hen and got plenty of eggs and chickens; but two of them seemed to be quite sterile. i was then sadly overdone with work, but have ever since much reproached myself that i did not preserve and carefully test the procreative power of these hens. now, if you are inclined to get a spanish cock and a couple of white silk hens, i shall be most grateful to hear whether the offspring breed well: they will prove, i think, not hardy; if they should prove sterile, which i can hardly believe, they will anyhow do for the pot. if you do try this, how would it do to put a silk cock to your curious silky cochin hen, so as to get a big silk breed; it would be curious if you could get silky fowl with bright colours. i believe a silk hen crossed by any other breed never gives silky feathers. a cross from silk cock and cochin silk hen ought to give silky feathers and probably bright colours. i have been led lately from experiments (not published) on dimorphism to reflect much on sterility from hybridism, and partially to change the opinion given in "origin." i have now letters out enquiring on the following point, implied in the experiment, which seems to me well worth trying, but too laborious ever to be attempted. i would ask every pigeon and fowl fancier whether they have ever observed, in the same breed, a cock a paired to a hen b which did not produce young. then i would get cock a and match it to a hen of its nearest blood; and hen b to its nearest blood. i would then match the offspring of a (viz., a, b, c, d, e) to the offspring of b (viz., f, g, h, i, j), and all those children which were fertile together should be destroyed until i found one--say a, which was not quite fertile with--say, i. then a and i should be preserved and paired with their parents a and b, so as to try and get two families which would not unite together; but the members within each family being fertile together. this would probably be quite hopeless; but he who could effect this would, i believe, solve the problem of sterility from hybridism. if you should ever hear of individual fowls or pigeons which are sterile together, i should be very grateful to hear of the case. it is a parallel case to those recorded of a man not impotent long living with a woman who remained childless; the husband died, and the woman married again and had plenty of children. apparently (by no means certainly) this first man and woman were dissimilar in their sexual organisation. i conceive it possible that their offspring (if both had married again and both had children) would be sexually dissimilar, like their parents, or sterile together. pray forgive my dreadful writing; i have been very unwell all day, and have no strength to re-write this scrawl. i am working slowly on, and i suppose in three or four months shall be ready. i am sure i do not know whether any human being could understand or read this shameful scrawl. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december, th [ ]. i return enclosed: if you write, thank mr. kingsley for thinking of letting me see the sound sense of an eastern potentate. ( / . kingsley's letter to huxley, dated december th, , contains a story or parable of a heathen khan in tartary who was visited by a pair of proselytising moollahs. the first moollah said: "oh! khan, worship my god. he is so wise that he made all things." but moollah no. won the day by pointing out that his god is "so wise that he makes all things make themselves.") all that i said about the little book ( / . the six "lectures to working men," published in six pamphlets and in book-form in . mr. huxley considered that mr. darwin's argument required the production by man's selection of breeds which should be mutually infertile, and thus resemble distinct species physiologically as well as morphologically.) is strictly my opinion; it is in every way excellent, and cannot fail to do good the wider it is circulated. whether it is worth your while to give up time to it is another question for you alone to decide; that it will do good for the subject is beyond all question. i do not think a dunce exists who could not understand it, and that is a bold saying after the extent to which i have been misunderstood. i did not understand what you required about sterility: assuredly the facts given do not go nearly so far. we differ so much that it is no use arguing. to get the degree of sterility you expect in recently formed varieties seems to me simply hopeless. it seems to me almost like those naturalists who declare they will never believe that one species turns into another till they see every stage in process. i have heard from tegetmeier, and have given him the result of my crosses of the birds which he proposes to try, and have told him how alone i think the experiment could be tried with the faintest hope of success--namely, to get, if possible, a case of two birds which when paired were unproductive, yet neither impotent. for instance, i had this morning a letter with a case of a hereford heifer, which seemed to be, after repeated trials, sterile with one particular and far from impotent bull, but not with another bull. but it is too long a story--it is to attempt to make two strains, both fertile, and yet sterile when one of one strain is crossed with one of the other strain. but the difficulty...would be beyond calculation. as far as i see, tegetmeier's plan would simply test whether two existing breeds are now in any slight degree sterile; which has already been largely tested: not that i dispute the good of re-testing. letter . to hugh falconer. ( / . the original letter is dated "december th," but this must, we think, be a slip of the pen for january th. it contains a reference to no. vi. of the "lectures to working men" which, as mr. leonard huxley is good enough to inform us, was not delivered until december th, and therefore could not have been seen by mr. darwin on december th. the change of date makes comprehensible the reference to falconer's paper "on the american fossil elephant of the regions bordering the gulf of mexico (e. columbi, falc.)," which appeared in the january number of the "natural history review." it is true that he had seen advanced sheets of falconer's paper ("life and letters," ii., page ), but the reference here is to the complete paper. in the present volume we have thought it right to give some expression to the attitude of darwin towards owen. professor owen's biographer has clearly felt the difficulty of making a statement on owen's attitude towards darwinism, and has ("life of sir richard owen," volume ii., page ) been driven to adopt the severe indictment contained in the "origin of species," edition vi., page xviii. darwin was by no means alone in his distrust of owen; and to omit altogether a reference to the conduct which led up to the isolation of owen among his former friends and colleagues would be to omit a part of the history of science of the day. and since we cannot omit to notice darwin's point of view, it seems right to give the facts of a typical case illustrating the feeling with which he regarded owen. this is all the more necessary since the recently published biography of sir r. owen gives no hint, as far as we are aware, of even a difference of opinion with other scientific men. the account which falconer gives in the above-mentioned paper in the "nat. hist. review" (january, ) would be amusing if the matter were less serious. in falconer described ("quart. journ. geol. soc." xiii.) a new species of fossil elephant from america, to which he gave the name elephas columbi, a designation which was recognised and adopted by continental writers. in (brit. assoc. leeds) owen made use of the name "elephas texianus," blake" for the species which falconer had previously named e. columbi, but without referring to falconer's determination; he gave no authority, "thus by the established usage in zoology producing it as his own." in owen in his palaeontology, nd edition, , describes the elephant as e. texianus, blake. to mr. blake's name is appended an asterisk which refers to a footnote to bollaert's "antiquities of s. america," nd edition. according to falconer (page ) no second edition of bollaert had appeared at the time of writing (august, ), and in the first edition ( ) he was "unable to detect the occurrence of the name even, of e. texianus, anywhere throughout the volume"; though bollaert mentions the fact that he had deposited, in the british museum, the tooth of a fossil elephant from texas. in november, , blake wrote a paper in the "geologist" in which the new elephant no longer bears his own name as authority, but is described as "elephas texianus, owen, e. columbi, falconer." finally, in another paper the name of owen is dropped and the elephant is once more his own. as falconer remarks, "the usage of science does not countenance such accommodating arrangements, when the result is to prejudice a prior right." it may be said, no doubt, that the question who first described a given species is a petty one; but this view has a double edge, and applies most strongly to those who neglect the just claims of their predecessors. down, january th [ ]. i finished your elephant paper last night, and you must let me express my admiration at it. ( / . "on the american fossil elephant of the regions bordering the gulf of mexico (e. columbi, falc.), etc." "nat. hist. rev." , page . (cf. letter to lyell. "life and letters," ii., page ; also "origin," edition vi., page .) see letter .) all the points strike me as admirably worked out, and very many most interesting. i was particularly struck with your remarks on the character of the ancient mammalian fauna of n. america ( / . falconer, page . this passage is marked in darwin's copy.); it agrees with all i fancied was the case, namely a temporary irruption of s. american forms into n. america, and conversely, i chuckled a little over the specimen of m. andium "hesitating" between the two groups. ( / . in speaking of the characters of mastodon andium, falconer refers to a former paper by himself ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xiii. , page ), in which he called attention "to the exceptional character of certain specimens of m. andium, as if hesitating between [the groups] tetralophodon and trilophodon" (ibid., page ).) i have been assured by mr. wallace that abundant mastodon remains have been found at timor, and that is rather close to australia. i rejoice that you have smashed that case. ( / . in the paper in the "nat. hist. review" (loc. cit.) falconer writes: "it seems more probable that some unintentional error has got mixed up with the history of this remarkable fossil; and until further confirmatory evidence is adduced, of an unimpeachable character, faith cannot be reposed in the reality of the asserted australian mastodon" (page ).) it is indeed a grand paper. i will say nothing more about your allusions to me, except that they have pleased me quite as much in print as in ms. you must have worked very hard; the labour must have been extreme, but i do hope that you will have health and strength to go on. you would laugh if you could see how indignant all owen's mean conduct about e. columbi made me. ( / . see letter .) i did not get to sleep till past o'clock. how well you lash him, firmly and severely, with unruffled temper, as if you were performing a simple duty. the case is come to such a pass, that i think every man of science is bound to show his feelings by some overt act, and i shall watch for a fitting opportunity. p.s.--i have kept back for a day the enclosed owing to the arrival of your most interesting letter. i knew it was a mere chance whether you could inform me on the points required; but no one other person has so often responded to my miscellaneous queries. i believe i have now in my greenhouse l. trigynum ( / . linum trigynum.), which came up from seed purchased as l. flavum, from which it is wholly different in foliage. i have just sent in a paper on dimorphism of linum to the linnean society ( / . "on the existence of the forms, and on their reciprocal sexual relation, in several species of the genus linum.--"journ. linn. soc." volume vii., page , .), and so i do not doubt your memory is right about l. trigynum: the functional difference in the two forms of linum is really wonderful. i assure you i quite long to see you and a few others in london; it is not so much the eczema which has taken the epidermis a dozen times clean off; but i have been knocked up of late with extraordinary facility, and when i shall be able to come up i know not. i particularly wish to hear about the wondrous bird: the case has delighted me, because no group is so isolated as birds. i much wish to hear when we meet which digits are developed; when examining birds two or three years ago, i distinctly remember writing to lyell that some day a fossil bird would be found with the end of wing cloven, i.e. the bastard-wing and other part, both well developed. thanks for von martius, returned by this post, which i was glad to see. poor old wagner (probably johann andreas wagner, author of "zur feststellung des artbegriffes, mit besonderer bezugnahme auf die ansichten von nathusius, darwin, is. geoffroy and agassiz," "munchen sitzungsb." ( ), page , and of numerous papers on zoological and palaeozoological subjects.) always attacked me in a proper spirit, and sent me two or three little brochures, and i thanked him cordially. the germans seem much stirred up on the subject. i received by the same post almost a little volume on the "origin." i cannot work above a couple of hours daily, and this plays the deuce with me. p.s. nd.--i have worked like a slave and been baffled like a slave in trying to make out the meaning of two very different sets of stamens in some melastomaceae. ( / . several letters on the melastomaceae occur in our botanical section.) i must tell you one fact. i counted , seeds, one by one, from my artificially fertilised pods. there is something very odd, but i am as yet beaten. plants from two pollens grow at different rates! now, what i want to know is, whether in individuals of the same species, growing together, you have ever noticed any difference in the position of the pistil or in the size and colour of the stamens? letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december th [ ]. i have read nos. iv, and v. ( / . "on our knowledge of the causes of the phenomena of organic nature," being six lectures to working men delivered at the museum of practical geology by prof. huxley, . these lectures, which were given once a week from november th, , onwards, were printed from the notes of mr. j.a. mays, a shorthand writer, who asked permission to publish them on his own account; mr. huxley stating in a prefatory "notice" that he had no leisure to revise the lectures.) they are simply perfect. they ought to be largely advertised; but it is very good in me to say so, for i threw down no. iv. with this reflection, "what is the good of writing a thundering big book, when everything is in this green little book, so despicable for its size?" in the name of all that is good and bad, i may as well shut up shop altogether. you put capitally and most simply and clearly the relation of animals and plants to each other at page . be careful about fantails: their tail-feathers are fixed in a radiating position, but they can depress and elevate them. i remember in a pigeon-book seeing withering contempt expressed at some naturalist for not knowing this important point! page ( / . the reference is to the original little green paper books in which the lectures first appeared; the paging in the bound volume dated is slightly different. the passage here is, "...if you couple a male and female hybrid...the result is that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred you will get no offspring at all." darwin maintains elsewhere that huxley, from not knowing the botanical evidence, made too much of this point. see "life and letters," ii., page .) seems a little too strong--viz., ninety-nine out of a hundred, unless you except plants. page : you say the answer to varieties when crossed being at all sterile is "absolutely a negative." ( / . huxley, page : "can we find any approximation to this [sterility of hybrids] in the different races known to be produced by selective breeding from a common stock? up to the present time the answer to that question is absolutely a negative one.") do you mean to say that gartner lied, after experiments by the hundred (and he a hostile witness), when he showed that this was the case with verbascum and with maize (and here you have selected races): does kolreuter lie when he speaks about the varieties of tobacco? my god, is not the case difficult enough, without its being, as i must think, falsely made more difficult? i believe it is my own fault--my d--d candour: i ought to have made ten times more fuss about these most careful experiments. i did put it stronger in the third edition of the "origin." if you have a new edition, do consider your second geological section: i do not dispute the truth of your statement; but i maintain that in almost every case the gravel would graduate into the mud; that there would not be a hard, straight line between the mass of gravel and mud; that the gravel, in crawling inland, would be separated from the underlying beds by oblique lines of stratification. a nice idea of the difficulty of geology your section would give to a working man! do show your section to ramsay, and tell him what i say; and if he thinks it a fair section for a beginner i am shut up, and "will for ever hold my tongue." good-night. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, [january] th [ ]. you will be weary of notes from me about the little book of yours. it is lucky for me that i expressed, before reading no. vi. ( / . "lectures to working men," no. vi., is a critical examination of the position of the "origin of species" in relation to the complete theory of the "causes of the phenomena of organic nature."), my opinion of its absolute excellence, and of its being well worth wide distribution and worth correction (not that i see where you could improve), if you thought it worth your valuable time. had i read no. vi., even a rudiment of modesty would, or ought to, have stopped me saying so much. though i have been well abused, yet i have had so much praise, that i have become a gourmand, both as to capacity and taste; and i really did not think that mortal man could have tickled my palate in the exquisite manner with which you have done the job. so i am an old ass, and nothing more need be said about this. i agree entirely with all your reservations about accepting the doctrine, and you might have gone further with further safety and truth. of course i do not wholly agree about sterility. i hate beyond all things finding myself in disagreement with any capable judge, when the premises are the same; and yet this will occasionally happen. thinking over my former letter to you, i fancied (but i now doubt) that i had partly found out the cause of our disagreement, and i attributed it to your naturally thinking most about animals, with which the sterility of the hybrids is much more conspicuous than the lessened fertility of the first cross. indeed, this could hardly be ascertained with mammals, except by comparing the products of [their] whole life; and, as far as i know, this has only been ascertained in the case of the horse and ass, which do produce fewer offspring in [their] lifetime than in pure breeding. in plants the test of first cross seems as fair as test of sterility of hybrids. and this latter test applies, i will maintain to the death, to the crossing of varieties of verbascum, and varieties, selected varieties, of zea. ( / . see letter .) you will say go to the devil and hold your tongue. no, i will not hold my tongue; for i must add that after going, for my present book, all through domestic animals, i have come to the conclusion that there are almost certainly several cases of two or three or more species blended together and now perfectly fertile together. hence i conclude that there must be something in domestication,--perhaps the less stable conditions, the very cause which induces so much variability,--which eliminates the natural sterility of species when crossed. if so, we can see how unlikely that sterility should arise between domestic races. now i will hold my tongue. page : ought not "sanscrit" to be "aryan"? what a capital number the last "natural history review" is! that is a grand paper by falconer. i cannot say how indignant owen's conduct about e. columbi has made me. i believe i hate him more than you do, even perhaps more than good old falconer does. but i have bubbled over to one or two correspondents on this head, and will say no more. i have sent lubbock a little review of bates' paper in "linn. transact." ( / . the unsigned review of mr. bates' work on mimetic butterflies appeared in the "nat. hist. review" ( ), page .) which l. seems to think will do for your "review." do inaugurate a great improvement, and have pages cut, like the yankees do; i will heap blessings on your head. do not waste your time in answering this. letter . to john lubbock [lord avebury]. down, january rd [ ]. i have no criticism, except one sentence not perfectly smooth. i think your introductory remarks very striking, interesting, and novel. ( / . "on the development of chloeon (ephemera) dimidiatum, part i. by john lubbock. "trans. linn. soc." volume xxiv., pages - , [read january th, ].) they interested me the more, because the vaguest thoughts of the same kind had passed through my head; but i had no idea that they could be so well developed, nor did i know of exceptions. sitaris and meloe ( / . sitaris and meloe, two genera of coleopterous insects, are referred to by lubbock (op. cit., pages - ) as "perhaps...the most remarkable cases...among the coleoptera" of curious and complicated metamorphoses.) seem very good. you have put the whole case of metamorphosis in a new light; i dare say what you remark about poverty of fresh-water is very true. ( / . "we cannot but be struck by the poverty of the fresh-water fauna when compared with that of the ocean" (op. cit., page ).) i think you might write a memoir on fresh-water productions. i suggest that the key-note is that land-productions are higher and have advantage in general over marine; and consequently land-productions have generally been modified into fresh-water productions, instead of marine productions being directly changed into fresh-water productions, as at first seems more probable, as the chance of immigration is always open from sea to rivers and ponds. my talk with you did me a deal of good, and i enjoyed it much. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. i send a very imperfect answer to [your] question, which i have written on foreign paper to save you copying, and you can send when you write to thomson in calcutta. hereafter i shall be able to answer better your question about qualities induced in individuals being inherited; gout in man--loss of wool in sheep (which begins in the first generation and takes two or three to complete); probably obesity (for it is rare with poor); probably obesity and early maturity in short-horn cattle, etc., etc. letter . to a. de candolle. down, january th [ ]. i thank you most sincerely for sending me your memoir. ( / . etude sur l'espece a l'occasion d'une revision de la famille des cupuliferes. "biblioth. univ. (arch. des sc. phys. et nat.)," novembre .) i have read it with the liveliest interest, as is natural for me; but you have the art of making subjects, which might be dry, run easily. i have been fairly astonished at the amount of individual variability in the oaks. i never saw before the subject in any department of nature worked out so carefully. what labour it must have cost you! you spoke in one letter of advancing years; but i am very sure that no one would have suspected that you felt this. i have been interested with every part; though i am so unfortunate as to differ from most of my contemporaries in thinking that the vast continental extensions ( / . see letters , .) of forbes, heer, and others are not only advanced without sufficient evidence, but are opposed to much weighty evidence. you refer to my work in the kindest and most generous spirit. i am fully satisfied at the length in belief to which you go, and not at all surprised at the prudent reservations which you make. i remember well how many years it cost me to go round from old beliefs. it is encouraging to me to observe that everyone who has gone an inch with me, after a period goes a few more inches or even feet. but the great point, as it seems to me, is to give up the immutability of specific forms; as long as they are thought immutable, there can be no real progress in "epiontology." ( / . see de candolle, loc. cit., page : he defines "epiontologie" as the study of the distribution and succession of organised beings from their origin up to the present time. at present epiontology is divided into geography and palaeontology, "mais cette division trop inegale et a limites bien vagues disparaitra probablement.") it matters very little to any one except myself, whether i am a little more or less wrong on this or that point; in fact, i am sure to be proved wrong in many points. but the subject will have, i am convinced, a grand future. considering that birds are the most isolated group in the animal kingdom, what a splendid case is this solenhofen bird-creature with its long tail and fingers to its wings! i have lately been daily and hourly using and quoting your "geographical botany" in my book on "variation under domestication." letter . to horace dobell. down, february th [ ]. absence from home and consequent idleness are the causes that i have not sooner thanked you for your very kind present of your lectures. ( / . "on the germs and vestiges of disease," (london) .) your reasoning seems quite satisfactory (though the subject is rather beyond my limit of thought and knowledge) on the v.m.f. not being "a given quantity." ( / . "it has been too common to consider the force exhibited in the operations of life (the v.m.f.) as a given quantity, to which no accessions can be made, but which is apportioned to each living being in quantity sufficient for its necessities, according to some hidden law" (op. cit., page .) and i can see that the conditions of life must play a most important part in allowing this quantity to increase, as in the budding of a tree, etc. how far these conditions act on "the forms of organic life" (page ) i do not see clearly. in fact, no part of my subject has so completely puzzled me as to determine what effect to attribute to (what i vaguely call) the direct action of the conditions of life. i shall before long come to this subject, and must endeavour to come to some conclusion when i have got the mass of collected facts in some sort of order in my mind. my present impression is that i have underrated this action in the "origin." i have no doubt when i go through your volume i shall find other points of interest and value to me. i have already stumbled on one case (about which i want to consult mr. paget)--namely, on the re-growth of supernumerary digits. ( / . see letters , .) you refer to "white on regeneration, etc., ." i have been to the libraries of the royal and the linnean societies, and to the british museum, where the librarians got out your volume and made a special hunt, and could discover no trace of such a book. will you grant me the favour of giving me any clue, where i could see the book? have you it? if so, and the case is given briefly, would you have the great kindness to copy it? i much want to know all particulars. one case has been given me, but with hardly minute enough details, of a supernumerary little finger which has already been twice cut off, and now the operation will soon have to be done for the third time. i am extremely much obliged for the genealogical table; the fact of the two cousins not, as far as yet appears, transmitting the peculiarity is extraordinary, and must be given by me. letter . to c. lyell. [february th, .] the same post that brought the enclosed brought dana's pamphlet on the same subject. ( / . the pamphlet referred to was published in "silliman's journal," volume xxv., , pages and , also in the "annals and magazine of natural history," volume xi., pages - , : "on the higher subdivisions in the classification of mammals." in this paper dana maintains the view that "man's title to a position by himself, separate from the other mammals in classification, appears to be fixed on structural as well as physical grounds" (page ). his description is as follows:-- i. archontia (vel dipoda) man (alone). ii. megasthena. iii. microsthena. quadrumana. cheiroptera. carnivora. insectivora. herbivora. rodentia. mutilata. bruta (edentata). iv. ooticoidea. marsupialia. monotremata.) the whole seems to me utterly wild. if there had not been the foregone wish to separate men, i can never believe that dana or any one would have relied on so small a distinction as grown man not using fore-limbs for locomotion, seeing that monkeys use their limbs in all other respects for the same purpose as man. to carry on analogous principles (for they are not identical, in crustacea the cephalic limbs are brought close to mouth) from crustacea to the classification of mammals seems to me madness. who would dream of making a fundamental distinction in birds, from fore-limbs not being used at all in [some] birds, or used as fins in the penguin, and for flight in other birds? i get on slowly with your grand work, for i am overwhelmed with odds and ends and letters. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following extract refers to owen's paper in the "linn. soc. journal," june, , in which the classification of the mammalia by cerebral characters was proposed. in spite of the fact that men and apes are placed in distinct sub-classes, owen speaks (in the foot-note of which huxley made such telling effect) of the determination of the difference between homo and pithecus as the anatomist's difficulty. (see letter .)) july th, . what a capital number of the "linnean journal!" owen's is a grand paper; but i cannot swallow man making a division as distinct from a chimpanzee as an ornithorhynchus from a horse; i wonder what a chimpanzee would say to this? ( / . according to owen the sub-class archencephala contains only the genus homo: the gyrencephala contains both chimpanzee and horse, the lyencephala contains ornithorhynchus.) letter . to t.h. huxley. down [february?] th, . i have just finished with very great interest "man's place." ( / . "evidence as to man's place in nature," (preface dated january ).) i never fail to admire the clearness and condensed vigour of your style, as one calls it, but really of your thought. i have no criticisms; nor is it likely that i could have. but i think you could have added some interesting matter on the character or disposition of the young ourangs which have been kept in france and england. i should have thought you might have enlarged a little on the later embryological changes in man and on his rudimentary structure, tail as compared with tail of higher monkeys, intermaxillary bone, false ribs, and i daresay other points, such as muscles of ears, etc., etc. i was very much struck with admiration at the opening pages of part ii. (and oh! what a delicious sneer, as good as a dessert, at page ) ( / . huxley, op. cit., page . after saying that "there is but one hypothesis regarding the origin of species of animals in general which has any scientific existence--that propounded by mr. darwin," and after a few words on lamarck, he goes on: "and though i have heard of the announcement of a formula touching 'the ordained continuous becoming of organic forms,' it is obvious that it is the first duty of a hypothesis to be intelligible, and that a qua-qua-versal proposition of this kind, which may be read backwards or forwards, or sideways, with exactly the same amount of significance, does not really exist, though it may seem to do so." the "formula" in question is owen's.): but my admiration is unbounded at pages to . i declare i never in my life read anything grander. bacon himself could not have charged a few paragraphs with more condensed and cutting sense than you have done. it is truly grand. i regret extremely that you could not, or did not, end your book (not that i mean to say a word against the geological history) with these pages. with a book, as with a fine day, one likes it to end with a glorious sunset. i congratulate you on its publication; but do not be disappointed if it does not sell largely: parts are highly scientific, and i have often remarked that the best books frequently do not get soon appreciated: certainly large sale is no proof of the highest merit. but i hope it may be widely distributed; and i am rejoiced to see in your note to miss rhadamanthus ( / . this refers to mr. darwin's daughter (now mrs. litchfield), whom mr. huxley used to laugh at for the severity of her criticisms.) that a second thousand is called for of the little book. what a letter that is of owen's in the "athenaeum" ( / . a letter by owen in the "athenaeum," february st, , replying to strictures on his treatment of the brain question, which had appeared in lyell's "antiquity of man."); how cleverly he will utterly muddle and confound the public. indeed he quite muddled me, till i read again your "concise statement" ( / . this refers to a section (pages - ) in "man's place in nature," headed "a succinct history of the controversy respecting the cerebral structure of man and the apes." huxley follows the question from owen's attempt to classify the mammalia by cerebral characters, published by the "linn. soc." in , up to his revival of the subject at the cambridge meeting of the british association in . it is a tremendous indictment of owen, and seems to us to conclude not unfittingly with a citation from huxley's article in the "medical times," october th, . huxley here points out that special investigations have been made into the question at issue "during the last two years" by allen thomson, rolleston, marshall, flower, schroeder van der kolk and vrolik, and that "all these able and conscientious observers" have testified to the accuracy of his statements, "while not a single anatomist, great or small, has supported professor owen." he sums up the case once more, and concludes: "the question has thus become one of personal veracity. for myself i will accept no other issue than this, grave as it is, to the present controversy.") (which is capitally clear), and then i saw that my suspicion was true that he has entirely changed his ground to size of brain. how candid he shows himself to have taken the slipped brain! ( / . owen in the "athenaeum," february st, , admits that in the brain which he used in illustration of his statements "the cerebral hemispheres had glided forward and apart behind so as to expose a portion of the cerebellum.") i am intensely curious to see whether lyell will answer. ( / . lyell's answer was in the "athenaeum" march th, .) lyell has been, i fear, rather rash to enter on a subject on which he of course knows nothing by himself. by heavens, owen will shake himself, when he sees what an antagonist he has made for himself in you. with hearty admiration, farewell. i am fearfully disappointed at lyell's excessive caution ( / . in the "antiquity of man": see "life and letters," iii., page .) in expressing any judgment on species or [on the] origin of man. letter . to john scott. down, march th, . i thank you for your criticisms on the "origin," and which i have not time to discuss; but i cannot help doubting, from your expression of an "innate...selective principle," whether you fully comprehend what is meant by natural selection. certainly when you speak of weaker (i.e. less well adapted) forms crossing with the stronger, you take a widely different view from what i do on the struggle for existence; for such weaker forms could not exist except by the rarest chance. with respect to utility, reflect that / ths part of the structure of each being is due to inheritance of formerly useful structures. pray read what i have said on "correlation." orchids ought to show us how ignorant we are of what is useful. no doubt hundreds of cases could be advanced of which no explanation could be offered; but i must stop. your letter has interested me much. i am very far from strong, and have great fear that i must stop all work for a couple of months for entire rest, and leave home. it will be ruin to all my work. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april rd [ ]. the more i think of falconer's letter ( / . published in the "athenaeum" april th, , page . the writer asserts that lyell did not make it clear that certain material made use of in the "antiquity of man" was supplied by the original work of mr. prestwich and himself. (see "life and letters," iii., page .)) the more grieved i am; he and prestwich (the latter at least must owe much to the "principles") assume an absurdly unwarrantable position with respect to lyell. it is too bad to treat an old hero in science thus. i can see from a note from falconer (about a wonderful fossil brazilian mammal, well called meso- or typo-therium) that he expects no sympathy from me. he will end, i hope, by being sorry. lyell lays himself open to a slap by saying that he would come to show his original observations, and then not distinctly doing so; he had better only have laid claim, on this one point of man, to verification and compilation. altogether, i much like lyell's letter. but all this squabbling will greatly sink scientific men. i have seen a sneer already in the "times." letter . to h.w. bates. at rev. c. langton, hartfield, tunbridge wells, april th [ ]. you will have received before this the note which i addressed to leicester, after finishing volume i., and you will have received copies of my little review ( / . "nat. hist. review," , page . a review of bates' paper on mimetic butterflies.) of your paper...i have now finished volume ii., and my opinion remains the same--that you have written a truly admirable work ( / . "the naturalist on the amazons," .), with capital original remarks, first-rate descriptions, and the whole in a style which could not be improved. my family are now reading the book, and admire it extremely; and, as my wife remarks, it has so strong an air of truthfulness. i had a letter from a person the other day, unknown to you, full of praise of the book. i do hope it may get extensively heard of and circulated; but to a certain extent this, i think, always depends on chance. i suppose the clicking noise of surprise made by the indian is that which the end of the tongue, applied to the palate of the mouth and suddenly withdrawn, makes? i have not written since receiving your note of april th, in which you confided in me and told me your prospects. i heartily wish they were better, and especially more certain; but with your abilities and powers of writing it will be strange if you cannot add what little you require for your income. i am glad that you have got a retired and semi-rural situation. what a grand ending you give to your book, contrasting civilisation and wild life! i quite regret that i have finished it: every evening it was a real treat to me to have my half-hour in the grand amazonian forest, and picture to myself your vivid descriptions. there are heaps of facts of value to me in a natural history point of view. it was a great misfortune that you were prevented giving the discussion on species. but you will, i hope, be able to give your views and facts somewhere else. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. your letter received this morning interested me more than even most of your letters, and that is saying a good deal. i must scribble a little on several points. about lyell and species--you put the whole case, i do believe, when you say that he is "half-hearted and whole-headed." ( / . darwin's disappointment with the cautious point of view taken up by lyell in the "antiquity of man" is illustrated in the "life and letters," iii., pages , . see also letter , page .) i wrote to a. gray that, when i saw such men as lyell and he refuse to judge, it put me in despair, and that i sometimes thought i should prefer that lyell had judged against modification of species rather than profess inability to decide; and i left him to apply this to himself. i am heartily rejoiced to hear that you intend to try to bring l. and f. ( / . falconer claimed that lyell had not "done justice to the part he took in resuscitating the cave question." see "life and letters," iii., page .) together again; but had you not better wait till they are a little cooled? you will do science a real good service. falconer never forgave lyell for taking the purbeck bones from him and handing them over to owen. with respect to island floras, if i understand rightly, we differ almost solely how plants first got there. i suppose that at long intervals, from as far back as later tertiary periods to the present time, plants occasionally arrived (in some cases, perhaps, aided by different currents from existing currents and by former islands), and that these old arrivals have survived little modified on the islands, but have become greatly modified or become extinct on the continent. if i understand, you believe that all islands were formerly united to continents, and then received all their plants and none since; and that on the islands they have undergone less extinction and modification than on the continent. the number of animal forms on islands, very closely allied to those on continents, with a few extremely distinct and anomalous, does not seem to me well to harmonise with your supposed view of all having formerly arrived or rather having been left together on the island. letter . to asa gray. down, may st [ ?]. i was very glad to receive your review ( / . the review on de candolle's work on the oaks (a. gray's "scientific papers," i., page ).) of de candolle a week ago. it seems to me excellent, and you speak out, i think, more plainly in favour of derivation of species than hitherto, though doubtfully about natural selection. grant the first, i am easy about the second. do you not consider such cases as all the orchids next thing to a demonstration against heer's view of species arising suddenly by monstrosities?--it is impossible to imagine so many co-adaptations being formed all by a chance blow. of course creationists would cut the enigma. letter . to t.h. huxley. june th [ ?] what are you doing now? i have never yet got hold of the "edinburgh review," in which i hear you are well abused. by the way, i heard lately from asa gray that wyman was delighted at "man's place." ( / . "evidence as to man's place in nature," by t.h. huxley, .) i wonder who it is who pitches weakly, but virulently into you, in the "anthropological review." how quiet owen seems! i do at last begin to believe that he will ultimately fall in public estimation. what nonsense he wrote in the "athenaeum" ( / . "athenaeum," march th, . see "life and letters," iii., page .) on heterogeny! i saw in his aye-aye ( / . see owen in the "trans. zool. soc." volume v. the sentence referred to seems to be the following (page ): "we know of no changes in progress in the island of madagascar, necessitating a special quest of wood-boring larvae by small quadrupeds of the lemurine or sciurine types of organisation.') paper (i think) that he sneers at the manner in which he supposes that we should account for the structure of its limbs; and asks how we know that certain insects had increased in the madagascar forests. would it not be a good rebuff to ask him how he knows there were trees at all on the leafless plains of la plata for his mylodons to tear down? but i must stop, for if i once begin about [him] there will be no end. i was disappointed in the part about species in lyell. ( / . lyell's "antiquity of man." see "life and letters," iii., page .) you and hooker are the only two bold men. i have had a bad spring and summer, almost constantly very unwell; but i am crawling on in my book on "variation under domestication.") letter . to c. lyell. down, august th [ ]. have you seen bentham's remarks on species in his address to the linnean society? ( / . presidential address before the linnean society by g. bentham ("journ. proc. linn. soc." volume vii., page xi., ).) they have pleased me more than anything i have read for some time. i have no news, for i have not seen a soul for months, and have had a bad spring and summer, but have managed to do a good deal of work. emma is threatening me to take me to malvern, and perhaps i shall be compelled, but it is a horrid waste of time; you must have enjoyed north wales, i should think, it is to me a most glorious country... if you have not read bates' book ( / . henry walter bates, "the naturalist on the river amazons," volumes, london, . in a letter to bates, april th, , darwin writes, "it is the best work of natural history travels ever published in england" ("life and letters," ii., page .), i think it would interest you. he is second only to humboldt in describing a tropical forest. ( / . quoted in "life and letters," ii., page .). talking of reading, i have never got the "edinburgh" ( / . the "geological evidence of the antiquity of man," by sir charles lyell, and works by other authors reviewed in the "edinburgh review." volume cxviii., july . the writer sums up his criticism as follows: "glancing at the work of sir charles lyell as a whole, it leaves the impression on our minds that we have been reading an ingenious academical thesis, rather than a work of demonstration by an original writer...there is no argument in it, and only a few facts which have not been stated elsewhere by sir c. lyell himself or by others" (loc. cit., page ).), in which, i suppose, you are cut up. letter . to h. falconer. december th [ ]. thank you for telling me about the pliocene mammal, which is very remarkable; but has not owen stated that the pliocene badger is identical with the recent? such a case does indeed well show the stupendous duration of the same form. i have not heard of suess' pamphlet ( / . probably suess's paper "ueber die verschiedenheit und die aufeinanderfolge der tertiaren land-faunen in der niederung von wien." "sitz.-ber. wien akad." xlvii., page , .), and should much like to learn the title, if it can be procured; but i am on different subjects just at present. i should rather like to see it rendered highly probable that the process of formation of a new species was short compared to its duration--that is, if the process was allowed to be slow and long; the idea is new to me. heer's view that new species are suddenly formed like monsters, i feel a conviction from many reasons is false. chapter .iv.--evolution, - . letter . to a.r. wallace. down, january st, . i am still unable to write otherwise than by dictation. in a letter received two or three weeks ago from asa gray he writes: "i read lately with gusto wallace's expose of the dublin man on bees' cells, etc." ( / . "remarks on the rev. s. haughton's paper on the bee's cell and on the origin of species" ("ann. and mag. nat. hist." xii., , page ). prof. haughton's paper was read before the natural history society of dublin, november st, , and reprinted in the "ann. and mag. nat. hist." xi., , page . see letters , , .) now, though i cannot read at present, i much want to know where this is published, that i may procure a copy. further on, asa gray says (after speaking of agassiz's paper on glaciers in the "atlantic magazine" and his recent book entitled "method of study"): "pray set wallace upon these articles." so asa gray seems to think much of your powers of reviewing, and i mention this as it assuredly is laudari a laudato. i hope you are hard at work, and if you are inclined to tell me, i should much like to know what you are doing. it will be many months, i fear, before i shall do anything. letter . to j.l.a. de quatrefages. down, march th [ ?]. i had heard that your work was to be translated, and i heard it with pleasure; but i can take no share of credit, for i am not an active, only an honorary member of the society. since writing i have finished with extreme interest to the end your admirable work on metamorphosis. ( / . probably "metamorphoses of man and the lower animals." translated by h. lawson, .) how well you are acquainted with the works of english naturalists, and how generously you bestow honour on them! mr. lubbock is my neighbour, and i have known him since he was a little boy; he is in every way a thoroughly good man; as is my friend huxley. it gave me real pleasure to see you notice their works as you have done. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, april th [ ]. i am very much obliged for your present of your "comp. anatomy." ( / . "lectures on the elements of comparative anatomy," .) when strong enough i am sure i shall read it with greatest interest. i could not resist the last chapter, of which i have read a part, and have been much interested about the "inspired idiot." ( / . in reference to oken (op. cit., page ) huxley says: "i must confess i never read his works without thinking of the epithet of 'inspired idiot' applied to our own goldsmith.") if owen wrote the article "oken" ( / . the article on oken in the eighth edition of the "encyclopaedia britannica" is signed "r.o.": huxley wrote to darwin (april th, ), "there is not the smallest question that owen wrote both the article 'oken' and the 'archetype' book" (huxley's "life," i., page ). mr. huxley's statements amount to this: ( ) prof. owen accuses goethe of having in appropriated oken's theory of the skull, and of having given an apocryphal account of how the idea occurred to himself in . ( ) in the same article, page , owen stated it to be questionable whether the discoverer of the true theory of the segmental constitution of the skull (i.e. himself) was excited to his labours, or "in any way influenced by the a priori guesses of oken." on this huxley writes, page : "but if he himself had not been in any way influenced by oken, and if the 'programm' [of oken] is a mere mass of 'a priori guesses,' how comes it that only three years before mr. owen could write thus? 'oken, ce genie profond et penetrant, fut le premier qui entrevit la verite, guide par l'heureuse idee de l'arrangement des os craniens en segments, comme ceux du rachis, appeles vertebres...'" later on owen wrote: "cela servira pour exemple d'une examen scrupuleux des faits, d'une appreciation philosophique de leurs relations et analogies, etc." (from "principes d'osteologie comparee, ou recherches sur l'archetype," etc., pages , ). ( ) finally huxley says, page , plainly: "the fact is that, so far from not having been 'in any way influenced' by oken, prof. owen's own contributions to this question are the merest okenism, remanie.") and the french work on the archetype (points you do not put quite clearly), he never did a baser act...you are so good a christian that you will hardly understand how i chuckle over this bit of baseness. i hope you keep well and hearty; i honour your wisdom at giving up at present society for science. but, on the other hand, i feel it in myself possible to get to care too much for natural science and too little for other things. i am getting better, i almost dare to hope permanently; for my sickness is decidedly less--for twenty-seven days consecutively i was sick many times daily, and lately i was five days free. i long to do a little work again. the magnificent (by far the most magnificent, and too magnificent) compliment which you paid me at the end of your "origin of species" ( / . a title applied to the "lectures to working men," that "green little book" referred to in letter . speaking of mr. darwin's work he says (page ): "i believe that if you strip it of its theoretical part, it still remains one of the greatest encyclopaedias of biological doctrine that any one man ever brought forth; and i believe that, if you take it as the embodiment of an hypothesis, it is destined to be the guide of biological and psychological speculation for the next three or four generations.') i have met with reprinted from you two or three times lately. letter a. to erasmus darwin. down, june th, . ( a. . the preceding letter contains a reference to the prolonged period of ill-health which darwin suffered in and , and in this connection the present letter is of interest. the copley medal was given to him in .) i had not heard a word about the copley medal. please give falconer my cordial thanks for his interest about me. i enclose the list of everything published by me except a few unimportant papers. ask falconer not to mention that i sent the list, as some one might say i had been canvassing, which is an odious imputation. the origin of the voyage in the "beagle" was that fitz-roy generously offered to give up half his cabin to any one who would volunteer to go as naturalist. beaufort wrote to cambridge, and i volunteered. fitz-roy never persuaded me to give up the voyage on account of sickness, nor did i ever think of doing so, though i suffered considerably; but i do not believe it was the cause of my subsequent ill-health, which has lost me so many years, and therefore i should not think the sea-sickness was worth notice. it would save you trouble to forward this with my kindest remembrances to falconer. ( / . the following letter was the beginning of a correspondence with mr. b.d. walsh, whom c.v. riley describes as "one of the ablest and most thorough entomologists of our time.") letter . b.d. walsh to charles darwin. rock island, illinois, u.s., april th, . ( / . the words in square brackets are restorations of parts torn off the original letter.) more than thirty years ago i was introduced to you at your rooms in christ's college by a.w. grisebach, and had the pleasure of seeing your noble collection of british coleoptera. some years afterwards i became a fellow of trinity, and finally gave up my fellowship rather than go into orders, and came to this country. for the last five or six years i have been paying considerable attention to the insect fauna of the u.s., some of the fruits of which you will see in the enclosed pamphlets. allow me to take this opportunity of thanking you for the publication of your "origin of species," which i read three years ago by the advice of a botanical friend, though i had a strong prejudice against what i supposed then to be your views. the first perusal staggered me, the second convinced me, and the oftener i read it the more convinced i am of the general soundness of your theory. as you have called upon naturalists that believe in your views to give public testimony of their convictions, i have directed your attention on the outside of one or two of my pamphlets to the particular passages in which [i] have done so. you will please accept these papers from me in token of my respect and admiration. as you may see from the latest of these papers, i [have] recently made the remarkable discover that there [are the] so-called "three sexes" not only in social insects but [also in the] strictly solitary genus cynips. when is your great work to make its appearance? [i should be] much pleased to receive a few lines from you. letter . to b.d. walsh. down, october st [ ]. ill-health has prevented me from sooner thanking you for your very kind letter and several memoirs. i have been very much pleased to see how boldly and clearly you speak out on the modification of species. i thank you for giving me the pages of reference; but they were superfluous, for i found so many original and profound remarks that i have carefully looked through all the papers. i hope that your discovery about the cynips ( / . "on dimorphism in the hymenopterous genus cynips," "proc. entom. soc. philadelphia," march, . mr. walsh's view is that cynips quercus aciculata is a dimorphous form of cynips q. spongifica, and occurs only as a female. cynips q. spongifica also produces spongifica females and males from other galls at a different time of year.) will hold good, for it is a remarkable one, and i for one have often marvelled what could be the meaning of the case. i will lend your paper to my neighbour mr. lubbock, who i know is much interested in the subject. incidentally i shall profit by your remarks on galls. if you have time i think a rather hopeless experiment would be worth trying; anyhow, i should have tried it had my health permitted. it is to insert a minute grain of some organic substance, together with the poison from bees, sand-wasps, ichneumons, adders, and even alkaloid poisons into the tissues of fitting plants for the chance of monstrous growths being produced. ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page , for an account of experiments attempted in this direction by mr. darwin in . on the effects of injuring plant-tissues, see massart, "la cicatrisation, etc." in tome lvii. of the "memoires couronnes" of the brussels academy.) my health has long been poor, and i have lately suffered from a long illness which has interrupted all work, but i am now recommencing a volume in connection with the "origin." p.s.--if you write again i should very much like to hear what your life in your new country is. what can be the meaning or use of the great diversity of the external generative organs in your cases, in bombus, and the phytophagous coleoptera? what can there be in the act of copulation necessitating such complex and diversified apparatus? letter . to w.h. flower. down, july th, . i am truly obliged for all the trouble which you have taken for me, and for your very interesting note. i had only vaguely heard it said that frogs had a rudiment of a sixth toe; had i known that such great men had looked to the point i should not have dreamed of looking myself. the rudiment sent to you was from a full-grown frog; so that if these bones are the two cuneiforms they must, i should think, be considered to be in a rudimentary condition. this afternoon my gardener brought in some tadpoles with the hind-legs alone developed, and i looked at the rudiment. at this age it certainly looks extremely like a digit, for the extremity is enlarged like that of the adjoining real toe, and the transverse articulation seems similar. i am sorry that the case is doubtful, for if these batrachians had six toes, i certainly think it would have thrown light on the truly extraordinary strength of inheritance in polydactylism in so many animals, and especially on the power of regeneration in amputated supernumerary digits. ( / . in the first edition of "variation under domestication" the view here given is upheld, but in the second edition (volume i., page ) darwin withdrew his belief that the development of supernumerary digits in man is "a case of reversion to a lowly-organised progenitor provided with more than five digits." see letters , .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down [october nd, ]. the lyells have been here, and were extremely pleasant, but i saw them only occasionally for ten minutes, and when they went i had an awful day [of illness]; but i am now slowly getting up to my former standard. i shall soon be confined to a living grave, and a fearful evil it is. i suppose you have read tyndall. ( / . probably tyndall "on the conformation of the alps" ("phil. mag." , page ).) i have now come round again to ramsay's view, ( / . "phil. mag." , page .) for the third or fourth time; but lyell says when i read his discussion in the "elements," i shall recant for the fifth time. ( / . this refers to a discussion on the "connection of the predominance of lakes with glacial action" ("elements," edition vi., pages - ). lyell adheres to the views expressed in the "antiquity of man" ( ) against ramsay's theory of the origin of lake basins by ice action.) what a capital writer tyndall is! in your last note you ask what the bardfield oxlip is. it is p. elatior of jacq., which certainly looks, when growing, to common eyes different from the common oxlip. i will fight you to the death that as primrose and cowslip are different in appearance (not to mention odour, habitat and range), and as i can now show that, when they cross, the intermediate offspring are sterile like ordinary hybrids, they must be called as good species as a man and a gorilla. i agree that if scott's red cowslip grew wild or spread itself and did not vary [into] common cowslip (and we have absolutely no proof of primrose or cowslip varying into each other), and as it will not cross with the cowslip, it would be a perfectly good species. the power of remaining for a good long period constant i look at as the essence of a species, combined with an appreciable amount of difference; and no one can say there is not this amount of difference between primrose and oxlip. (plate: hugh falconer, . from a photograph by hill & adamson.) letter . hugh falconer to w. sharpey. ( / . falconer had proposed darwin for the copley medal of the royal society (which was awarded to him in ), but being detained abroad, he gave his reasons for supporting darwin for this honour in a letter to sharpey, the secretary of the royal society. a copy of the letter here printed seems to have been given to erasmus darwin, and by him shown to his brother charles.) montauban, october th, . busk and myself have made every effort to be back in london by the th inst., but we have been persecuted by mishaps--through the breakdown of trains, diligences, etc., so that we have been sadly put out in our reckoning--and have lost some of the main objects that brought us round by this part of france--none of which were idle or unimportant. busk started yesterday for paris from bruniquel, to make sure of being present at the meeting of the royal council on thursday. he will tell you that there were strong reasons for me remaining behind him. but as i seconded the proposal of mr. darwin for the copley medal, in default of my presence at the first meeting, i beg that you will express my great regrets to the president and council at not being there, and that i am very reluctantly detained. i shall certainly be in london (d.v.) by the second meeting on the rd proximo. meanwhile i solicit the favour of being heard, through you, respecting the grounds upon which i seconded mr. darwin's nomination for the copley medal. referring to the classified list which i drew up of mr. darwin's scientific labours, ranging through the wide field of ( ) geology, ( ) physical geography, ( ) zoology, ( ) physiological botany, ( ) genetic biology, and to the power with which he has investigated whatever subject he has taken up,--nullum quod tetigit non ornavit,--i am of opinion that mr. darwin is not only one of the most eminent naturalists of his day, but that hereafter he will be regarded as one of the great naturalists of all countries and of all time. his early work on the structure and distribution of coral reefs constitutes an era in the investigation of the subject. as a monographic labour, it may be compared with dr. wells' "essay upon dew," as original, exhaustive, and complete--containing the closest observation with large and important generalisations. among the zoologists his monographs upon the balanidae and lepadidae, fossil and recent, in the palaeontographical and ray societies' publications, are held to be models of their kind. in physiological botany, his recent researches upon the dimorphism of the genital organs in certain plants, embodied in his papers in the "linnean journal," on primula, linum, and lythrum, are of the highest order of importance. they open a new mine of observation upon a field which had been barely struck upon before. the same remark applies to his researches on the structure and various adaptations of the orchideous flower to a definite object connected with impregnation of the plants through the agency of insects with foreign pollen. there has not yet been time for their due influence being felt in the advancement of the science. but in either subject they constitute an advance per saltum. i need not dwell upon the value of his geological researches, which won for him one of the earlier awards of the wollaston medal from the geological society, the best of judges on the point. and lastly, mr. darwin's great essay on the "origin of species" by natural selection. this solemn and mysterious subject had been either so lightly or so grotesquely treated before, that it was hardly regarded as being within the bounds of legitimate philosophical investigation. mr. darwin, after twenty years of the closest study and research, published his views, and it is sufficient to say that they instantly fixed the attention of mankind throughout the civilised world. that the efforts of a single mind should have arrived at success on a subject of such vast scope, and encompassed with such difficulties, was more than could have been reasonably expected, and i am far from thinking that charles darwin has made out all his case. but he has treated it with such power and in such a philosophical and truth-seeking spirit, and illustrated it with such an amount of original and collated observation as fairly to have brought the subject within the bounds of rational scientific research. i consider this great essay on genetic biology to constitute a strong additional claim on behalf of mr. darwin for the copley medal. ( / . the following letter (december rd, ), from mr. huxley to sir j.d. hooker, is reprinted, by the kind permission of mr. l. huxley, from his father's "life," i., page . sabine's address (from the "reader") is given in the "life and letters," iii., page . in the "proceedings of the royal society" the offending sentence is slightly modified. it is said, in huxley's "life" (loc. cit., note), that the sentence which follows it was introduced to mitigate the effect:-- "i wish you had been at the anniversary meeting and dinner, because the latter was very pleasant, and the former, to me, very disagreeable. my distrust of sabine is, as you know, chronic; and i went determined to keep careful watch on his address, lest some crafty phrase injurious to darwin should be introduced. my suspicions were justified, the only part of the address [relating] to darwin written by sabine himself containing the following passage: "'speaking generally and collectively, we have expressly omitted it [darwin's theory] from the grounds of our award.' "of course this would be interpreted by everybody as meaning that after due discussion, the council had formally resolved not only to exclude darwin's theory from the grounds of the award, but to give public notice through the president that they had done so, and, furthermore, that darwin's friends had been base enough to accept an honour for him on the understanding that in receiving it he should be publicly insulted! "i felt that this would never do, and therefore, when the resolution for printing the address was moved, i made a speech, which i took care to keep perfectly cool and temperate, disavowing all intention of interfering with the liberty of the president to say what he pleased, but exercising my constitutional right of requiring the minutes of council making the award to be read, in order that the society might be informed whether the conditions implied by sabine had been imposed or not. "the resolution was read, and of course nothing of the kind appeared. sabine didn't exactly like it, i believe. both busk and falconer remonstrated against the passage to him, and i hope it will be withdrawn when the address is printed. if not, there will be an awful row, and i for one will show no mercy.") in forming an estimate of the value and extent of mr. darwin's researches, due regard ought to be had to the circumstances under which they have been carried out--a pressure of unremitting disease, which has latterly left him not more than one or two hours of the day which he could call his own. letter . to hugh falconer. down, november th [ ]. what a good kind friend you are! i know well that this medal must have cost you a deal of trouble. it is a very great honour to me, but i declare the knowledge that you and a few other friends have interested themselves on the subject is the real cream of the enjoyment to me; indeed, it is to me worth far more than many medals. so accept my true and cordial thanks. i hope that i may yet have strength to do a little more work in natural science, shaky and old though i be. i have chuckled and triumphed over your postscript about poor m. brulle and his young pupils ( / . the following is the postscript in a letter from falconer to darwin november rd [ ]: "i returned last night from spain via france. on monday i was at dijon, where, while in the museum, m. brulle, professor of zoology, asked me what was my frank opinion of charles darwin's doctrine? he told me in despair that he could not get his pupils to listen to anything from him except a la darwin! he, poor man, could not comprehend it, and was still unconvinced, but that all young frenchmen would hear or believe nothing else.") about a week ago i had a nearly similar account from germany, and at the same time i heard of some splendid converts in such men as leuckart, gegenbauer, etc. you may say what you like about yourself, but i look at a man who treats natural history in the same spirit with which you do, exactly as good, for what i believe to be the truth, as a convert. letter . to hugh falconer. down, november th [ ]. your remark on the relation of the award of the medal and the present outburst of bigotry had not occurred to me. it seems very true, and makes me the more gratified to receive it. general sabine ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page .) wrote to me and asked me to attend at the anniversary, but i told him it was really impossible. i have never been able to conjecture the cause; but i find that on my good days, when i can write for a couple of hours, that anything which stirs me up like talking for half or even a quarter of an hour, generally quite prostrates me, sometimes even for a long time afterwards. i believe attending the anniversary would possibly make me seriously ill. i should enjoy attending and shaking you and a few of my other friends by the hand, but it would be folly even if i did not break down at the time. i told sabine that i did not know who had proposed and seconded me for the medal, but that i presumed it was you, or hooker or busk, and that i felt sure, if you attended, you would receive the medal for me; and that if none of you attended, that lyell or huxley would receive it for me. will you receive it, and it could be left at my brother's? again accept my cordial and enduring thanks for all your kindness and sympathy. letter . to b.d. walsh. down, december th [ ]. i have been greatly interested by your account of your american life. what an extraordinary and self-contained life you have led! and what vigour of mind you must possess to follow science with so much ardour after all that you have undergone! i am very much obliged to you for your pamphlet on geographical distribution, on agassiz, etc. ( / . mr. walsh's paper "on certain entomological speculations of the new england school of entomologists" was published in the "proc. entomolog. soc. of philadelphia," september , page .) i am delighted at the manner in which you have bearded this lion in his den. i agree most entirely with all that you have written. what i meant when i wrote to agassiz to thank him for a bundle of his publications, was exactly what you suppose. ( / . namely, that mr. darwin, having been abused as an atheist, etc., by other writers, probably felt grateful to a writer who was willing to allow him "a spirit as reverential as his own." ("methods of study," preface, page iv.) i confess, however, i did not fully perceive how he had misstated my views; but i only skimmed through his "methods of study," and thought it a very poor book. i am so much accustomed to be utterly misrepresented that it hardly excites my attention. but you really have hit the nail on the head capitally. all the younger good naturalists whom i know think of agassiz as you do; but he did grand service about glaciers and fish. about the succession of forms, pictet has given up his whole views, and no geologist now agrees with agassiz. i am glad that you have attacked dana's wild notions; [though] i have a great respect for dana...if you have an opportunity, read in "trans. linn. soc." bates on "mimetic lepidoptera of amazons." i was delighted with his paper. i have got a notice of your views about the female cynips inserted in the "natural history review" ( / . "nat. hist. review," january , page . a notice by "j.l." (probably lord avebury) on walsh's paper "on dimorphism in the hymenopterous genus cynips," in the "proc. entomolog. soc. of philadelphia," march, .): whether the notice will be favourable, i do not know, but anyhow it will call attention to your views... as you allude in your paper to the believers in change of species, you will be glad to hear that very many of the very best men are coming round in germany. i have lately heard of hackel, gegenbauer, f. muller, leuckart, claparede, alex. braun, schleiden, etc. so it is, i hear, with the younger frenchmen. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. it is working hours, but i am trying to take a day's holiday, for i finished and despatched yesterday my climbing paper. for the last ten days i have done nothing but correct refractory sentences, and i loathe the whole subject like tartar emetic. by the way, i am convinced that you want a holiday, and i think so because you took the devil's name in vain so often in your last note. can you come here for sunday? you know how i should like it, and you will be quiet and dull enough here to get plenty of rest. i have been thinking with regret about what you said in one of your later notes, about having neglected to make notes on the gradation of character in your genera; but would it be too late? surely if you looked over names in series the facts would come back, and you might surely write a fine paper "on the gradation of important characters in the genera of plants." as for unimportant characters, i have made their perfect gradation a very prominent point with respect to the means of climbing, in my paper. i begin to think that one of the commonest means of transition is the same individual plant having the same part in different states: thus corydalis claviculata, if you look to one leaf, may be called a tendril-bearer; if you look to another leaf it may be called a leaf-climber. now i am sure i remember some cases with plants in which important parts such as the position of the ovule differ: differences in the spire of leaves on lateral and terminal branches, etc. there was not much in last "natural history review" which interested me except colonial floras ( / . "nat. hist. review," , page . a review of grisebach's "flora of the british west indian islands" and thwaites' "enumeratio plantarum zeylaniae." the point referred to is given at page : "more than half the flowering plants belong to eleven orders in the case of the west indies, and to ten in that of ceylon, whilst with but one exception the ceylon orders are the same as the west indian." the reviewer speculates on the meaning of the fact "in relation to the hypothesis of an intertropical cold epoch, such as mr. darwin demands for the migration of the northern flora to the southern hemisphere.") and the report on the sexuality of cryptogams. i suppose the former was by oliver; how extremely curious is the fact of similarity of orders in the tropics! i feel a conviction that it is somehow connected with glacial destruction, but i cannot "wriggle" comfortably at all on the subject. i am nearly sure that dana makes out that the greatest number of crustacean forms inhabit warmer temperate regions. i have had an enormous letter from leo lesquereux (after doubts, i did not think it worth sending you) on coal flora: he wrote some excellent articles in "silliman" again [my] "origin" views; but he says now after repeated reading of the book he is a convert! but how funny men's minds are! he says he is chiefly converted because my books make the birth of christ, redemption by grace, etc., plain to him! letter . to j.d. hooker. down, february th [ ]. i quite agree how humiliating the slow progress of man is, but every one has his own pet horror, and this slow progress or even personal annihilation sinks in my mind into insignificance compared with the idea or rather i presume certainty of the sun some day cooling and we all freezing. to think of the progress of millions of years, with every continent swarming with good and enlightened men, all ending in this, and with probably no fresh start until this our planetary system has been again converted into red-hot gas. sic transit gloria mundi, with a vengeance... letter . to b.d. walsh. down, march th [ ]. i have been much interested by your letter. i received your former paper on phytophagic variety ( / . for "phytophagic varieties and phytophagic species" see "proc. entomolog. soc. philadelphia," november , page , also december . the part on gradation is summarised at pages , . walsh shows that a complete gradation exists between species which are absolutely unaffected by change of food and cases where "difference of food is accompanied by marked and constant differences, either colorational, or structural, or both, in the larva, pupa and imago states."), most of which was new to me. i have since received your paper on willow-galls; this has been very opportune, as i wanted to learn a little about galls. there was much in this paper which has interested me extremely, on gradations, etc., and on your "unity of coloration." ( / . "unity of coloration": this expression does not seem to occur in the paper of november , but is discussed at length in that of december , page .) this latter subject is nearly new to me, though i collected many years ago some such cases with birds; but what struck me most was when a bird genus inhabits two continents, the two sections sometimes display a somewhat different type of colouring. i should like to hear whether this does not occur with widely ranging insect-genera? you may like to hear that wichura ( / . max wichura's "die bastarde befruchtung im pflanzenreich, etc:" breslau . a translation appeared in the "bibliotheque universelle," xxiii., page : geneva .) has lately published a book which has quite convinced me that in europe there is a multitude of spontaneous hybrid willows. would it not be very interesting to know how the gall-makers behaved with respect to these hybrids? do you think it likely that the ancestor of cecidomyia acquired its poison like gnats (which suck men) for no especial purpose (at least not for gall-making)? such notions make me wish that some one would try the experiments suggested in my former letter. is it not probable that guest-flies were aboriginally gall-makers, and bear the same relation to them which apathus probably does to bombus? ( / . apathus (= psithyrus) lives in the nests of bombus. these insects are said to be so like humble bees that "they were not distinguished from them by the early entomologists:" dr. sharp in "cambridge nat. hist. (insects," part ii.), page .) with respect to dimorphism, you may like to hear that dr. hooker tells me that a dioecious parasitic plant allied to rafflesia has its two sexes parasitic on two distinct species of the same genus of plants; so look out for some such case in the two forms of cynips. i have posted to you copies of my papers on dimorphism. leersia ( / . leersia oryzoides was for a long time thought to produce only cleistogamic and therefore autogamous flowers. see "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page .) does behave in a state of nature in the provoking manner described by me. with respect to wagner's curious discovery my opinion is worth nothing; no doubt it is a great anomaly, but it does not appear to me nearly so incredible as to you. remember how allied forms in the hydrozoa differ in their so-called alternate generations; i follow those naturalists who look at all such cases as forms of gemmation; and a multitude of organisms have this power or traces of this power at all ages from the germ to maturity. with respect to agassiz's views, there were many, and there are still not a few, who believe that the same species is created on many spots. i wrote to bates, and he will send you his mimetic paper; and i dare say others: he is a first-rate man. your case of the wingless insects near the rocky mountains is extremely curious. i am sure i have heard of some such case in the old world: i think on the caucasus. would not my argument about wingless insular insects perhaps apply to truly alpine insects? for would it not be destruction to them to be blown from their proper home? i should like to write on many points at greater length to you, but i have no strength to spare. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, september nd [ ]. i am much obliged for your extract ( / . mr. wallace had sent darwin a note about a tufted cock-blackbird, which transmitted the character to some of its offspring.); i never heard of such a case, though such a variation is perhaps the most likely of any to occur in a state of nature, and to be inherited, inasmuch as all domesticated birds present races with a tuft or with reversed feathers on their heads. i have sometimes thought that the progenitor of the whole class must have been a crested animal. do you make any progress with your journal of travels? i am the more anxious that you should do so as i have lately read with much interest some papers by you on the ourang-outan, etc., in the "annals," of which i have lately been reading the later volumes. i have always thought that journals of this nature do considerable good by advancing the taste for natural history: i know in my own case that nothing ever stimulated my zeal so much as reading humboldt's "personal narrative." i have not yet received the last part of the "linnean transactions," but your paper ( / . probably on the variability and distribution of the butterflies of the malayan region: "linn. soc. trans." xxv., .) at present will be rather beyond my strength, for though somewhat better, i can as yet do hardly anything but lie on the sofa and be read aloud to. by the way, have you read tylor and lecky? ( / . tylor, "early history of mankind;" lecky's "rationalism.") both these books have interested me much. i suppose you have read lubbock. ( / . lubbock, "prehistoric times," page : "...the theory of natural selection, which with characteristic unselfishness he ascribes unreservedly to mr. darwin.") in the last chapter there is a note about you in which i most cordially concur. i see you were at the british association but i have heard nothing of it except what i have picked up in the "reader." i have heard a rumour that the "reader" is sold to the anthropological society. if you do not begrudge the trouble of another note (for my sole channel of news through hooker is closed by his illness) i should much like to hear whether the "reader" is thus sold. i should be very sorry for it, as the paper would thus become sectional in its tendency. if you write, tell me what you are doing yourself. the only news which i have about the "origin" is that fritz muller published a few months ago a remarkable book ( / . "fur darwin.") in its favour, and secondly that a second french edition is just coming out. letter . to f. muller. down, january th [ ]. i received your interesting letter of november th some little time ago, and despatched immediately a copy of my "journal of researches." i fear you will think me troublesome in my offer; but have you the second german edition of the "origin?" which is a translation, with additions, of the third english edition, and is, i think, considerably improved compared with the first edition. i have some spare copies which are of no use to me, and it would be a pleasure to me to send you one, if it would be of any use to you. you would never require to re-read the book, but you might wish to refer to some passage. i am particularly obliged for your photograph, for one likes to have a picture in one's mind of any one about whom one is interested. i have received and read with interest your paper on the sponge with horny spicula. ( / . "ueber darwinella aurea, einen schwamm mit sternformigen hornnadeln."--"archiv. mikrosk. anat." i., page , .) owing to ill-health, and being busy when formerly well, i have for some years neglected periodical scientific literature, and have lately been reading up, and have thus read translations of several of your papers; amongst which i have been particularly glad to read and see the drawings of the metamorphoses of peneus. ( / . "on the metamorphoses of the prawns," by dr. fritz muller.--"ann. mag. nat. hist." volume xiv., page (with plate), . translated by w.s. dallas from "wiegmann's archiv," (see also "facts and arguments for darwin," passim, translated by w.s. dallas: london, ).) this seems to me the most interesting discovery in embryology which has been made for years. i am much obliged to you for telling me a little of your plans for the future; what a strange, but to my taste interesting life you will lead when you retire to your estate on the itajahy! you refer in your letter to the facts which agassiz is collecting, against our views, on the amazons. though he has done so much for science, he seems to me so wild and paradoxical in all his views that i cannot regard his opinions as of any value. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, january nd, . i thank you for your paper on pigeons ( / . "on the pigeons of the malay archipelago" (the "ibis," october, ). mr. wallace points out (page ) that "the most striking superabundance of pigeons, as well as of parrots, is confined to the australo-malayan sub-region in which...the forest-haunting and fruit-eating mammals, such as monkeys and squirrels, are totally absent." he points out also that monkeys are "exceedingly destructive to eggs and young birds."), which interested me, as everything that you write does. who would ever have dreamed that monkeys influenced the distribution of pigeons and parrots! but i have had a still higher satisfaction, for i finished your paper yesterday in the "linnean transactions." ( / . "linn. soc. trans." xxv.: a paper on the geographical distribution and variability of the malayan papilionidae.) it is admirably done. i cannot conceive that the most firm believer in species could read it without being staggered. such papers will make many more converts among naturalists than long-winded books such as i shall write if i have strength. i have been particularly struck with your remarks on dimorphism; but i cannot quite understand one point (page ), ( / . the passage referred to in this letter as needing further explanation is the following: "the last six cases of mimicry are especially instructive, because they seem to indicate one of the processes by which dimorphic forms have been produced. when, as in these cases, one sex differs much from the other, and varies greatly itself, it may happen that individual variations will occasionally occur, having a distant resemblance to groups which are the objects of mimicry, and which it is therefore advantageous to resemble. such a variety will have a better chance of preservation; the individuals possessing it will be multiplied; and their accidental likeness to the favoured group will be rendered permanent by hereditary transmission, and each successive variation which increases the resemblance being preserved, and all variations departing from the favoured type having less chance of preservation, there will in time result those singular cases of two or more isolated and fixed forms bound together by that intimate relationship which constitutes them the sexes of a single species. the reason why the females are more subject to this kind of modification than the males is, probably, that their slower flight, when laden with eggs, and their exposure to attack while in the act of depositing their eggs upon leaves, render it especially advantageous for them to have some additional protection. this they at once obtain by acquiring a resemblance to other species which, from whatever cause, enjoy a comparative immunity from persecution." mr. wallace has been good enough to give us the following note on the above passage: "the above quotation deals solely with the question of how certain females of the polymorphic species (papilio memnon, p. pammon, and others) have been so modified as to mimic species of a quite distinct section of the genus; but it does not attempt to explain why or how the other very variable types of female arose, and this was darwin's difficulty. as the letter i wrote in reply is lost, and as it is rather difficult to explain the matter clearly without reference to the coloured figures, i must go into some little detail, and give now what was probably the explanation i gave at the time. the male of papilio memnon is a large black butterfly with the nervures towards the margins of the wings bordered with bluish gray dots. it is a forest insect, and the very dark colour renders it conspicuous; but it is a strong flier, and thus survives. to the female, however, this conspicuous mass of colour would be dangerous, owing to her slower flight, and the necessity for continually resting while depositing her eggs on the leaves of the food-plant of the larva. she has accordingly acquired lighter and more varied tints. the marginal gray-dotted stripes of the male have become of a brownish ash and much wider on the fore wings, while the margin of the hind wings is yellowish, with a more defined spot near the anal angle. this is the form most nearly like the male, but it is comparatively rare, the more common being much lighter in colour, the bluish gray of the hind wings being often entirely replaced by a broad band of yellowish white. the anal angle is orange-yellow, and there is a bright red spot at the base of the fore wings. between these two extremes there is every possible variation. now, it is quite certain that this varying mixture of brown, black, white, yellow, and red is far less conspicuous amid the ever-changing hues of the forest with their glints of sunshine everywhere penetrating so as to form strong contrasts and patches of light and shade. hence all the females--one at one time and one at another--get some protection, and that is sufficient to enable them to live long enough to lay their eggs, when their work is finished. still, under bad conditions they only just managed to survive, and as the colouring of some of these varying females very much resembled that of the protected butterflies of the p. coon group (perhaps at a time when the tails of the latter were not fully developed) any rudiments of a prolongation of the wing into a tail added to the protective resemblance, and was therefore preserved. the woodcuts of some of these forms in my "malay archipelago" (i., page ) will enable those who have this book at hand better to understand the foregoing explanation."), and should be grateful for an explanation, for i want fully to understand you. how can one female form be selected and the intermediate forms die out, without also the other extreme form also dying out from not having the advantages of the first selected form? for, as i understand, both female forms occur on the same island. i quite agree with your distinction between dimorphic forms and varieties; but i doubt whether your criterion of dimorphic forms not producing intermediate offspring will suffice, for i know of a good many varieties which must be so called that will not blend or intermix, but produce offspring quite like either parent. i have been particularly struck with your remarks on geographical distribution in celebes. it is impossible that anything could be better put, and would give a cold shudder to the immutable naturalists. and now i am going to ask a question which you will not like. how does your journal get on? it will be a shame if you do not popularise your researches. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. hurstpierpoint, sussex, july nd, . i have been so repeatedly struck by the utter inability of numbers of intelligent persons to see clearly, or at all, the self-acting and necessary effects of natural selection, that i am led to conclude that the term itself, and your mode of illustrating it, however clear and beautiful to many of us, are yet not the best adapted to impress it on the general naturalist public. the two last cases of the misunderstanding are: ( ) the article on "darwin and his teachings" in the last "quarterly journal of science," which, though very well written and on the whole appreciative, yet concludes with a charge of something like blindness, in your not seeing that natural selection requires the constant watching of an intelligent "chooser," like man's selection to which you so often compare it; and ( ) in janet's recent work on the "materialism of the present day," reviewed in last saturday's "reader," by an extract from which i see that he considers your weak point to be that you do not see that "thought and direction are essential to the action of natural selection." the same objection has been made a score of times by your chief opponents, and i have heard it as often stated myself in conversation. now, i think this arises almost entirely from your choice of the term "natural selection" and so constantly comparing it in its effects to man's selection, and also your so frequently personifying nature as "selecting," as "preferring," as "seeking only the good of the species," etc., etc. to the few this is as clear as daylight, and beautifully suggestive, but to many it is evidently a stumbling-block. i wish, therefore, to suggest to you the possibility of entirely avoiding this source of misconception in your great work (if not now too late), and also in any future editions of the "origin," and i think it may be done without difficulty and very effectually by adopting spencer's term (which he generally uses in preference to natural selection)--viz., "survival of the fittest." this term is the plain expression of the fact; natural selection is a metaphorical expression of it, and to a certain degree indirect and incorrect, since, even personifying nature, she does not so much select special variations as exterminate the most unfavourable ones. combined with the enormous multiplying powers of all organisms, and the "struggle for existence" leading to the constant destruction of by far the largest proportion--facts which no one of your opponents, as far as i am aware, has denied or misunderstood--"the survival of the fittest" rather than of those who were less fit could not possibly be denied or misunderstood. neither would it be possible to say that to ensure the "survival of the fittest" any intelligent chooser was necessary; whereas when you say natural selection acts so as to choose those that are fittest, it is misunderstood, and apparently always will be. referring to your book, i find such expressions as "man selects only for his own good; nature only for that of the being which she tends." this, it seems, will always be misunderstood; but if you had said "man selects only for his own good; nature, by the inevitable 'survival of the fittest,' only for that of the being she tends," it would have been less liable to be so. i find you use the term "natural selection" in two senses: ( ) for the simple preservation of favourable and rejection of unfavourable variations, in which case it is equivalent to "survival of the fittest"; and ( ) for the effect or change produced by this preservation, as when you say, "to sum up the circumstances favourable or unfavourable to natural selection," and again, "isolation, also, is an important element in the process of natural selection." here it is not merely "survival of the fittest," but change produced by survival of the fittest, that is meant. on looking over your fourth chapter, i find that these alterations of terms can be in most cases easily made, while in some cases the addition of "or survival of the fittest" after "natural selection" would be best; and in others, less likely to be misunderstood, the original term may stand alone. i could not venture to propose to any other person so great an alteration of terms, but you, i am sure, will give it an impartial consideration, and if you really think the change will produce a better understanding of your work, will not hesitate to adopt it. it is evidently also necessary not to personify "nature" too much--though i am very apt to do it myself--since people will not understand that all such phrases are metaphors. natural selection is, when understood, so necessary and self-evident a principle, that it is a pity it should be in any way obscured; and it therefore seems to me that the free use of "survival of the fittest," which is a compact and accurate definition of it, would tend much to its being more widely accepted, and prevent it being so much misrepresented and misunderstood. there is another objection made by janet which is also a very common one. it is that the chances are almost infinite against the particular kind of variation required being coincident with each change of external conditions, to enable an animal to become modified by natural selection in harmony with such changed conditions; especially when we consider that, to have produced the almost infinite modifications of organic beings, this coincidence must have taken place an almost infinite number of times. now, it seems to me that you have yourself led to this objection being made, by so often stating the case too strongly against yourself. for example, at the commencement of chapter iv. you ask if it is "improbable that useful variations should sometimes occur in the course of thousands of generations"; and a little further on you say, "unless profitable variations do occur, natural selection can do nothing." now, such expressions have given your opponents the advantage of assuming that favourable variations are rare accidents, or may even for long periods never occur at all, and thus janet's argument would appear to many to have great force. i think it would be better to do away with all such qualifying expressions, and constantly maintain (what i certainly believe to be the fact) that variations of every kind are always occurring in every part of every species, and therefore that favourable variations are always ready when wanted. you have, i am sure, abundant materials to prove this; and it is, i believe, the grand fact that renders modification and adaptation to conditions almost always possible. i would put the burthen of proof on my opponents to show that any one organ, structure, or faculty does not vary, even during one generation, among all the individuals of a species; and also to show any mode or way in which any such organ, etc., does not vary. i would ask them to give any reason for supposing that any organ, etc., is ever absolutely identical at any one time in all the individuals of a species, and if not then it is always varying, and there are always materials which, from the simple fact that "the fittest survive," will tend to the modification of the race into harmony with changed conditions. i hope these remarks may be intelligible to you, and that you will be so kind as to let me know what you think of them. i have not heard for some time how you are getting on. i hope you are still improving in health, and that you will now be able to get on with your great work, for which so many thousands are looking with interest. letter . to a.r. wallace. ( / . from "life and letters," iii., page .) down, july th [ ]. i have been much interested by your letter, which is as clear as daylight. i fully agree with all that you say on the advantages of h. spencer's excellent expression of "the survival of the fittest." this, however, had not occurred to me till reading your letter. it is, however, a great objection to this term that it cannot be used as a substantive governing a verb; and that this is a real objection i infer from h. spencer continually using the words natural selection. i formerly thought, probably in an exaggerated degree, that it was a great advantage to bring into connection natural and artificial selection; this indeed led me to use a term in common, and i still think it some advantage. i wish i had received your letter two months ago, for i would have worked in "the survival," etc., often in the new edition of the "origin," which is now almost printed off, and of which i will of course send you a copy. i will use the term in my next book on domestic animals, etc., from which, by the way, i plainly see that you expect much too much. the term natural selection has now been so largely used abroad and at home that i doubt whether it could be given up, and with all its faults i should be sorry to see the attempt made. whether it will be rejected must now depend "on the survival of the fittest." as in time the term must grow intelligible the objections to its use will grow weaker and weaker. i doubt whether the use of any term would have made the subject intelligible to some minds, clear as it is to others; for do we not see even to the present day malthus on population absurdly misunderstood? this reflection about malthus has often comforted me when i have been vexed at this misstatement of my views. as for m. janet, he is a metaphysician, and such gentlemen are so acute that i think they often misunderstand common folk. your criticism on the double sense in which i have used natural selection is new to me and unanswerable; but my blunder has done no harm, for i do not believe that any one, excepting you, has ever observed it. again, i agree that i have said too much about "favourable variations," but i am inclined to think that you put the opposite side too strongly: if every part of every being varied, i do not think we should see the same end or object gained by such wonderfully diversified means. i hope you are enjoying the country, and are in good health, and are working hard at your "malay archipelago" book, for i will always put this wish in every note i write to you, as some good people always put in a text. my health keeps much the same, or rather improves, and i am able to work some hours daily. letter . to c. lyell. down, october th [ ]. one line to say that i have received your note and the proofs safely, and will read them with the greatest pleasure; but i am certain i shall not be able to send any criticism on the astronomical chapter ( / . "principles of geology," by sir charles lyell; edition x., london, . chapter xiii. deals with "vicissitudes in climate how far influenced by astronomical causes."), as i am as ignorant as a pig on this head. i shall require some days to read what has been sent. i have just read chapter ix. ( / . chapter ix., "theory of the progressive development of organic life at successive geological periods."), and like it extremely; it all seems to me very clear, cautious, and sagacious. you do not allude to one very striking point enough, or at all--viz., the classes having been formerly less differentiated than they now are; and this specialisation of classes must, we may conclude, fit them for different general habits of life as well as the specialisation of particular organs. page ( / . on page lyell refers to the absence of cetacea in secondary rocks, and expresses the opinion that their absence "is a negative fact of great significance, which seems more than any other to render it highly improbable that we shall ever find air-breathers of the highest class in any of the primary strata, or in any of the older members of the secondary series.") i rather demur to your argument from cetacea: as they are such greatly modified mammals, they ought to have come in rather later in the series. you will think me rather impudent, but the discussion at the end of chapter ix. on man ( / . loc. cit., pages - , "introduction of man, to what extent a change of the system."), who thinks so much of his fine self, seems to me too long, or rather superfluous, and too orthodox, except for the beneficed clergy. letter . to v. carus. ( / . the following letter refers to the th edition of the "origin," , which was translated by professor carus, and formed the rd german edition. carus continued to translate darwin's books, and a strong bond of friendship grew up between author and translator (see "life and letters," iii., page ). nageli's pamphlet was first noticed in the th english edition.) down, november st, . ...with respect to a note on nageli ( / . "entstehung und begriff der naturhistorischen art," an address given before the royal academy of sciences at munich, march th, . see "life and letters," iii., page , for mr. darwin's letter to the late prof. nageli.) i find on consideration it would be too long; for so good a pamphlet ought to be discussed at full length or not at all. he makes a mistake in supposing that i say that useful characters are always constant. his view about distinct species converging and acquiring the same identical structure is by implication answered in the discussion which i have given on the endless diversity of means for gaining the same end. the most important point, as it seems to me, in the pamphlet is that on the morphological characters of plants, and i find i could not answer this without going into much detail. the answer would be, as it seems to me, that important morphological characters, such as the position of the ovules and the relative position of the stamens to the ovarium (hypogynous, perigynous, etc.) are sometimes variable in the same species, as i incidentally mention when treating of the ray-florets in the compositae and umbelliferae; and i do not see how nageli could maintain that differences in such characters prove an inherent tendency towards perfection. i see that i have forgotten to say that you have my fullest consent to append any discussion which you may think fit to the new edition. as for myself i cannot believe in spontaneous generation, and though i expect that at some future time the principle of life will be rendered intelligible, at present it seems to me beyond the confines of science. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, december nd [ ?]. i suppose that you have received hackel's book ( / . "generelle morphologie," .) some time ago, as i have done. whenever you have had time to read through some of it, enough to judge by, i shall be very curious to hear your judgment. i have been able to read a page or two here and there, and have been interested and instructed by parts. but my vague impression is that too much space is given to methodical details, and i can find hardly any facts or detailed new views. the number of new words, to a man like myself, weak in his greek, is something dreadful. he seems to have a passion for defining, i daresay very well, and for coining new words. from my very vague notions on the book, and from its immense size, i should fear a translation was out of the question. i see he often quotes both of us with praise. i am sure i should like the book much, if i could read it straight off instead of groaning and swearing at each sentence. i have not yet had time to read your physiology ( / . "lessons in elementary physiology," .) book, except one chapter; but i have just re-read your book on "man's place, etc.," and i think i admire it more this second time even than the first. i doubt whether you will ever have time, but if ever you have, do read the chapter on hybridism in the new edition of the "origin" ( / . fourth edition ( ).), for i am very anxious to make you think less seriously on that difficulty. i have improved the chapter a good deal, i think, and have come to more definite views. asa gray and fritz muller (the latter especially) think that the new facts on illegitimate offspring of dimorphic plants, throw much indirect light on the subject. now that i have worked up domestic animals, i am convinced of the truth of the pallasian ( / . see letter .) view of loss of sterility under domestication, and this seems to me to explain much. but i had no intention, when i began this note, of running on at such length on hybridism; but you have been objector-general on this head. letter . to t. rivers. ( / . for another letter of mr. darwin's to him see "life and letters," iii., page .) down, december rd [ ?]. i do not know whether you will forgive a stranger addressing you. my name may possibly be known to you. i am now writing a book on the variation of animals and plants under domestication; and there is one little piece of information which it is more likely that you could give me than any man in the world, if you can spare half an hour from your professional labours, and are inclined to be so kind. i am collecting all accounts of what some call "sports," that is, of what i shall call "bud-variations," i.e. a moss-rose suddenly appearing on a provence rose--a nectarine on a peach, etc. now, what i want to know, and which is not likely to be recorded in print, is whether very slight differences, too slight to be worth propagating, thus appear suddenly by buds. as every one knows, in raising seedlings you may have every gradation from individuals identical with the parent, to slight varieties, to strongly marked varieties. now, does this occur with buds or do only rather strongly marked varieties thus appear at rare intervals of time by buds? ( / . mr. rivers could not give a decided answer, but he did not remember to have seen slight bud-variations. the question is discussed in "variation under domestication," edition ii., volume i., page .) i should be most grateful for information. i may add that if you have observed in your enormous experience any remarkable "bud-variations," and could spare time to inform me, and allow me to quote them on your authority, it would be the greatest favour. i feel sure that these "bud-variations" are most interesting to any one endeavouring to make out what little can be made out on the obscure subject of variation. letter . to t. rivers. down, january th [ ?]. i thank you much for your letter and the parcel of shoots. the case of the yellow plum is a treasure, and is now safely recorded on your authority in its proper place, in contrast with a. knight's case of the yellow magnum bonum sporting into red. ( / . see "variation under domestication," edition ii., volume i., page .) i could see no difference in the shoots, except that those of the yellow were thicker, and i presume that this is merely accidental: as you do not mention it, i further presume that there are no further differences in leaves or flowers of the two plums. i am very glad to hear about the yellow ash, and that you yourself have seen the jessamine case. i must confess that i hardly fully believed in it; but now i do, and very surprising it is. in an old french book, published in amsterdam in (i think), there is an account, apparently authentic and attested by the writer as an eye-witness, of hyacinth bulbs of two colours being cut in two and grafted, and they sent up single stalks with differently coloured flowers on the two sides, and some flowers parti-coloured. i once thought of offering pounds reward in the "cottage gardener" for such a plant; but perhaps it would seem too foolish. no instructions are given when to perform the operation; i have tried two or three times, and utterly failed. i find that i have a grand list of "bud-variations," and to-morrow shall work up such cases as i have about rose-sports, which seem very numerous, and which i see you state to occur comparatively frequently. when a person is very good-natured he gets much pestered--a discovery which i daresay you have made, or anyhow will soon make; for i do want very much to know whether you have sown seed of any moss-roses, and whether the seedlings were moss-roses. ( / . moss-roses can be raised from seed ("variation under domestication," edition ii., volume i., page .) has a common rose produced by seed a moss-rose? if any light comes to you about very slight changes in the buds, pray have the kindness to illuminate me. i have cases of seven or eight varieties of the peach which have produced by "bud-variation" nectarines, and yet only one single case (in france) of a peach producing another closely similar peach (but later in ripening). how strange it is that a great change in the peach should occur not rarely and slighter changes apparently very rarely! how strange that no case seems recorded of new apples or pears or apricots by "bud-variation"! how ignorant we are! but with the many good observers now living our children's children will be less ignorant, and that is a comfort. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, january th [ ]. very many thanks for your letter, which has told me exactly what i wanted to know. i shall give up all thoughts of trying to get the book ( / . hackel's "generelle morphologie," . see "life and letters," iii., pages , .) translated, for i am well convinced that it would be hopeless without too great an outlay. i much regret this, as i should think the work would be useful, and i am sure it would be to me, as i shall never be able to wade through more than here and there a page of the original. to all people i cannot but think that the number of new terms would be a great evil. i must write to him. i suppose you know his address, but in case you do not, it is "to care of signor nicolaus krohn, madeira." i have sent the ms. of my big book ( / . "the variation of animals and plants under domestication," .), and horridly, disgustingly big it will be, to the printers, but i do not suppose it will be published, owing to murray's idea on seasons, till next november. i am thinking of a chapter on man, as there has lately been so much said on natural selection in relation to man. i have not seen the duke's (or dukelet's? how can you speak so of a living real duke?) book, but must get it from mudie, as you say he attacks us. ( / . "the reign of law" ( ), by the late duke of argyll. see "life and letters," iii., page .) p.s.--nature never made species mutually sterile by selection, nor will men. letter . to e. hackel. down, january th [ ]. i received some weeks ago your great work ( / . "generelle morphologie," .); i have read several parts, but i am too poor a german scholar and the book is too large for me to read it all. i cannot tell you how much i regret this, for i am sure that nearly the whole would interest me greatly, and i have already found several parts very useful, such as the discussion on cells and on the different forms of reproduction. i feel sure, after considering the subject deliberately and after consulting with huxley, that it would be hopeless to endeavour to get a publisher to print an english translation; the work is too profound and too long for our english countrymen. the number of new terms would also, i am sure, tell much against its sale; and, indeed, i wish for my own sake that you had printed a glossary of all the new terms which you use. i fully expect that your book will be highly successful in germany, and the manner in which you often refer to me in your text, and your dedication and the title, i shall always look at as one of the greatest honours conferred on me during my life. ( / . as regards the dedication and title this seems a strong expression. the title is "generelle morphologie der organismen. allgemeine grundzuge der organischen formen-wissenschaft mechanisch begrundet durch die von charles darwin reformirte descendenz-theorie." the dedication of the second volume is "den begrundern der descendenz-theorie, den denkenden naturforschern, charles darwin, wolfgang goethe, jean lamarck widmet diese grundzuge der allgemeinen entwickelungsgeschichte in vorzuglicher verehrung, der verfasser.") i sincerely hope that you have had a prosperous expedition, and have met with many new and interesting animals. if you have spare time i should much like to hear what you have been doing and observing. as for myself, i have sent the ms. of my book on domestic animals, etc., to the printers. it turns out to be much too large; it will not be published, i suppose, until next november. i find that we have discussed several of the same subjects, and i think we agree on most points fairly well. i have lately heard several times from fritz muller, but he seems now chiefly to be working on plants. i often think of your visit to this house, which i enjoyed extremely, and it will ever be to me a real pleasure to remember our acquaintance. from what i heard in london i think you made many friends there. shall you return through england? if so, and you can spare the time, we shall all be delighted to see you here again. letter . to t. rivers. down, january th [ ?]. how rich and valuable a letter you have most kindly sent me! the case of baronne prevost ( / . see "variation under domestication," edition ii., volume i., page . mr. rivers had a new french rose with a delicate smooth stem, pale glaucous leaves and striped flesh-coloured flowers; on branches thus characterised there appeared "the famous old rose called 'baronne prevost,'" with its stout thorny stem and uniform rich-coloured double flowers.), with its different shoots, foliage, spines, and flowers, will be grand to quote. i am extremely glad to hear about the seedling moss-roses. that case of a seedling like a scotch rose, unless you are sure that no scotch rose grew near (and it is unlikely that you can remember), must, one would think, have been a cross. i have little compunction for being so troublesome--not more than a grand inquisitor has in torturing a heretic--for am i not doing a real good public service in screwing crumbs of knowledge out of your wealth of information? p.s. since the above was written i have read your paper in the "gardeners' chronicle": it is admirable, and will, i know, be a treasure to me. i did not at all know how strictly the character of so many flowers is inherited. on my honour, when i began this note i had no thought of troubling you with a question; but you mention one point so interesting, and which i have had occasion to notice, that i must supplicate for a few more facts to quote on your authority. you say that you have one or two seedling peaches ( / . "on raising peaches, nectarines, and other fruits from seed." by thomas rivers, sawbridgeworth.--"gard. chron." , page .) approaching very nearly to thick-fleshed almonds (i know about a. knight and the italian hybrid cases). now, did any almond grow near your mother peach? but especially i want to know whether you remember what shape the stone was, whether flattened like that of an almond; this, botanically, seems the most important distinction. i earnestly wish to quote this. was the flesh at all sweet? forgive if you can. have you kept these seedling peaches? if you would give me next summer a fruit, i want to have it engraved. letter . to i. anderson-henry. may nd [ ]. you are so kind as to offer to lend me maillet's ( / . for de maillet see mr. huxley's review on "the origin of species" in the "westminster review," , reprinted in "lay sermons," , page . de maillet's evolutionary views were published after his death in under the name of telliamed (de maillet spelt backwards).) work, which i have often heard of, but never seen. i should like to have a look at it, and would return it to you in a short time. i am bound to read it, as my former friend and present bitter enemy owen generally ranks me and maillet as a pair of equal fools. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. you have done me a very great service in sending me the pages of the "farmer." i do not know whether you wish it returned; but i will keep it unless i hear that you want it. old i. anderson-henry passes a magnificent but rather absurd eulogium on me; but the point of such extreme value in my eyes is mr. traill's ( / . mr. traill's results are given at page of "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i. in the "life and letters of g.j. romanes," , an interesting correspondence is published with mr. darwin on this subject. the plan of the experiments suggested to romanes was to raise seedlings from graft-hybrids: if the seminal offspring of plants hybridised by grafting should show the hybrid character, it would be striking evidence in favour of pangenesis. the experiment, however, did not succeed.) statement that he made a mottled mongrel by cutting eyes through and joining two kinds of potatoes. ( / . for an account of similar experiments now in progress, see a "note on some grafting experiments" by r. biffen in the "annals of botany," volume xvi., page , .) i have written to him for full information, and then i will set to work on a similar trial. it would prove, i think, to demonstration that propagation by buds and by the sexual elements are essentially the same process, as pangenesis in the most solemn manner declares to be the case. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, june th [ ?]. we come up on saturday, the th, for a week. i want much to see you for a short time to talk about my youngest boy and the school of mines. i know it is rather unreasonable, but you must let me come a little after o'clock on sunday morning, the th. if in any way inconvenient, send me a line to " , queen anne street w.,"; but if i do not hear, i will (stomacho volente) call, but i will not stay very long and spoil your whole morning as a holiday. will you turn two or three times in your mind this question: what i called "pangenesis" means that each cell throws off an atom of its contents or a gemmule, and that these aggregated form the true ovule or bud, etc.? now i want to know whether i could not invent a better word. "cyttarogenesis" ( / . from kuttaros, a bee's-cell: cytogenesis would be a natural form of the word from kutos.)--i.e. cell-genesis--is more true and expressive, but long. "atomogenesis" sounds rather better, i think, but an "atom" is an object which cannot be divided; and the term might refer to the origin of atoms of inorganic matter. i believe i like "pangenesis" best, though so indefinite; and though my wife says it sounds wicked, like pantheism; but i am so familiar now with this word, that i cannot judge. i supplicate you to help me. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, october, th and th [ ]. i ordered the journal ( / . "quarterly journal of science," october, , page . a review of the duke of argyll's "reign of law.") a long time ago, but by some oversight received it only yesterday, and read it. you will think my praise not worth having, from being so indiscriminate; but if i am to speak the truth, i must say i admire every word. you have just touched on the points which i particularly wished to see noticed. i am glad you had the courage to take up angraecum ( / . angraecum sesquipedale, a madagascan orchid, with a whiplike nectary, to inches in length, which, according to darwin ("fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page ), is adapted to the visits of a moth with a proboscis of corresponding length. he points out that there is no difficulty in believing in the existence of such a moth as f. muller has described ("nature," , page )--a brazilian sphinx-moth with a trunk of to inches in length. moreover, forbes has given evidence to show that such an insect does exist in madagascar ("nature," viii., , page ). the case of angraecum was put forward by the duke of argyll as being necessarily due to the personal contrivance of the deity. mr. wallace (page ) shows that both proboscis and nectary might be increased in length by means of natural selection. it may be added that hermann muller has shown good grounds for believing that mutual specialisation of this kind is beneficial both to insect and plant.) after the duke's attack; for i believe the principle in this case may be widely applied. i like the figure, but i wish the artist had drawn a better sphinx. with respect to beauty, your remarks on hideous objects and on flowers not being made beautiful except when of practical use to them, strike me as very good. on this one point of beauty i can hardly think that the duke was quite candid. i have used in the concluding paragraph of my present book precisely the same argument as you have, even bringing in the bull-dog ( / . "variation of animals and plants," edition i., volume ii., page : "did he cause the frame and mental qualities of the dog to vary in order that a breed might be formed of indomitable ferocity, with jaws fitted to pin down the bull for man's brutal sport?"), with respect to variations not having been specially ordained. your metaphor of the river ( / . see wallace, op. cit., pages - . he imagines an observer examining a great river-system, and finding everywhere adaptations which reveal the design of the creator. "he would see special adaptation to the wants of man in broad, quiet, navigable rivers, through fertile alluvial plains that would support a large population, while the rocky streams and mountain torrents were confined to those sterile regions suitable only for a small population of shepherds and herdsmen.') is new to me, and admirable; but your other metaphor, in which you compare classification and complex machines, does not seem to me quite appropriate, though i cannot point out what seems deficient. the point which seems to me strong is that all naturalists admit that there is a natural classification, and it is this which descent explains. i wish you had insisted a little more against the "north british" ( / . at page mr. wallace deals with fleeming jenkin's review in the "north british review," . the review strives to show that there are strict limits to variation, since the most rigorous and long-continued selection does not indefinitely increase such a quality as the fleetness of a racehorse. on this mr. wallace remarks that "this argument fails to meet the real question," which is, not whether indefinite change is possible, "but whether such differences as do occur in nature could have been produced by the accumulation of variations by selection.") on the reviewer assuming that each variation which appears is a strongly marked one; though by implication you have made this very plain. nothing in your whole article has struck me more than your view with respect to the limit of fleetness in the racehorse and other such cases: i shall try and quote you on this head in the proof of my concluding chapter. i quite missed this explanation, though in the case of wheat i hit upon something analogous. i am glad you praise the duke's book, for i was much struck with it. the part about flight seemed to me at first very good; but as the wing is articulated by a ball-and-socket joint, i suspect the duke would find it very difficult to give any reason against the belief that the wing strikes the air more or less obliquely. i have been very glad to see your article and the drawing of the butterfly in "science gossip." by the way, i cannot but think that you push protection too far in some cases, as with the stripes on the tiger. i have also this morning read an excellent abstract in the "gardeners' chronicle" of your paper on nests. ( / . an abstract of a paper on "birds' nests and plumage," read before the british association: see "gard. chron." , page .) i was not by any means fully converted by your letter, but i think now i am so; and i hope it will be published somewhere in extenso. it strikes me as a capital generalisation, and appears to me even more original than it did at first... i have finished volume i. of my book ["variation of animals and plants"], and i hope the whole will be out by the end of november. if you have the patience to read it through, which is very doubtful, you will find, i think, a large accumulation of facts which will be of service to you in future papers; and they could not be put to better use, for you certainly are a master in the noble art of reasoning. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, october rd [no date]. i know you have no time for speculative correspondence; and i did not in the least expect an answer to my last. but i am very glad to have had it, for in my eclectic work the opinions of the few good men are of great value to me. i knew, of course, of the cuvierian view of classification ( / . cuvier proved that "animals cannot be arranged in a single series, but that there are several distinct plans of organisation to be observed among them, no one of which, in its highest and most complicated modification, leads to any of the others" (huxley's "darwiniana," page ).); but i think that most naturalists look for something further, and search for "the natural system,"--"for the plan on which the creator has worked," etc., etc. it is this further element which i believe to be simply genealogical. but i should be very glad to have your answer (either when we meet or by note) to the following case, taken by itself, and not allowing yourself to look any further than to the point in question. grant all races of man descended from one race--grant that all the structure of each race of man were perfectly known--grant that a perfect table of the descent of each race was perfectly known--grant all this, and then do you not think that most would prefer as the best classification, a genealogical one, even if it did occasionally put one race not quite so near to another, as it would have stood, if collocated by structure alone? generally, we may safely presume, that the resemblance of races and their pedigrees would go together. i should like to hear what you would say on this purely theoretical case. it might be asked why is development so all-potent in classification, as i fully admit it is? i believe it is because it depends on, and best betrays, genealogical descent; but this is too large a point to enter on. letter . to c. lyell. down, december th [ ]. i send by this post the article in the victorian institute with respect to frogs' spawn. if you remember in your boyhood having ever tried to take a small portion out of the water, you will remember that it is most difficult. i believe all the birds in the world might alight every day on the spawn of batrachians, and never transport a single ovum. with respect to the young of molluscs, undoubtedly if the bird to which they were attached alighted on the sea, they would be instantly killed; but a land-bird would, i should think, never alight except under dire necessity from fatigue. this, however, has been observed near heligoland ( / . instances are recorded by gatke in his "heligoland as an ornithological observatory" (translated by rudolph rosenstock, edinburgh, ) of land-birds, such as thrushes, buntings, finches, etc., resting for a short time on the surface of the water. the author describes observations made by himself about two miles west of heligoland (page ).); and land-birds, after resting for a time on the tranquil sea, have been seen to rise and continue their flight. i cannot give you the reference about heligoland without much searching. this alighting on the sea may aid you in your unexpected difficulty of the too-easy diffusion of land-molluscs by the agency of birds. i much enjoyed my morning's talk with you. letter . to f. hildebrand. down, january th [ ]. i thank you for your letter, which has quite delighted me. i sincerely congratulate you on your success in making a graft-hybrid ( / . prof. hildebrand's paper is in the "bot. zeitung," : the substance is given in "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page .), for i believe it to be a most important observation. i trust that you will publish full details on this subject and on the direct action of pollen ( / . see prof. hildebrand, "bot. zeitung," , and "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page . a yellow-grained maize was fertilised with pollen from a brown-grained one; the result was that ears were produced bearing both yellow and dark-coloured grains.): i hope that you will be so kind as to send me a copy of your paper. if i had succeeded in making a graft-hybrid of the potato, i had intended to raise seedlings from the graft-hybrid and from the two parent-forms (excluding insects) and carefully compare the offspring. this, however, would be difficult on account of the sterility and variability of the potato. when in the course of a few months you receive my second volume ( / . this sentence may be paraphrased--"when you receive my book and read the second volume."), you will see why i think these two subjects so important. they have led me to form a hypothesis on the various forms of reproduction, development, inheritance, etc., which hypothesis, i believe, will ultimately be accepted, though how it will be now received i am very doubtful. once again i congratulate you on your success. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. many thanks about names of plants, synonyms, and male flowers--all that i wanted. i have been glad to see watson's letter, and am sorry he is a renegade about natural selection. it is, as you say, characteristic, with the final fling at you. his difficulty about the difference between the two genera of st. helena umbellifers is exactly the same as what nageli has urged in an able pamphlet ( / . "ueber entstehung und begriff der naturhist. art." "sitz. der k. bayer. akad. der wiss. zu munchen," . some of nageli's points are discussed in the "origin," edition v., page .), and who in consequence maintains that there is some unknown innate tendency to progression in all organisms. i said in a letter to him that of course i could not in the least explain such cases; but that they did not seem to me of overwhelming force, as long as we are quite ignorant of the meaning of such structures, whether they are of any service to the plants, or inevitable consequences of modifications in other parts. i cannot understand what watson means by the "counter-balance in nature" to divergent variation. there is the counterbalance of crossing, of which my present work daily leads me to see more and more the efficiency; but i suppose he means something very different. further, i believe variation to be divergent solely because diversified forms can best subsist. but you will think me a bore. i enclose half a letter from f. muller (which please return) for the chance of your liking to see it; though i have doubted much about sending it, as you are so overworked. i imagine the solanum-like flower is curious. i heard yesterday to my joy that dr. hildebrand has been experimenting on the direct action of pollen on the mother-plant with success. he has also succeeded in making a true graft-hybrid between two varieties of potatoes, in which i failed. i look at this as splendid for pangenesis, as being strong evidence that bud-reproduction and seminal reproduction do not essentially differ. my book is horribly delayed, owing to the accursed index-maker. ( / . darwin thoroughly appreciated the good work put into the index of "the variation of animals and plants.") i have almost forgotten it! letter . to t.h. huxley. down, january th [ ]. most sincere thanks for your kind congratulations. i never received a note from you in my life without pleasure; but whether this will be so after you have read pangenesis ( / . in volume ii. of "animals and plants, .), i am very doubtful. oh lord, what a blowing up i may receive! i write now partly to say that you must not think of looking at my book till the summer, when i hope you will read pangenesis, for i care for your opinion on such a subject more than for that of any other man in europe. you are so terribly sharp-sighted and so confoundedly honest! but to the day of my death i will always maintain that you have been too sharp-sighted on hybridism; and the chapter on the subject in my book i should like you to read: not that, as i fear, it will produce any good effect, and be hanged to you. i rejoice that your children are all pretty well. give mrs. huxley the enclosed ( / . queries on expression.), and ask her to look out when one of her children is struggling and just going to burst out crying. a dear young lady near here plagued a very young child for my sake, till it cried, and saw the eyebrows for a second or two beautifully oblique, just before the torrent of tears began. the sympathy of all our friends about george's success (it is the young herald) ( / . his son george was second wrangler in ; as a boy he was an enthusiast in heraldry.) has been a wonderful pleasure to us. george has not slaved himself, which makes his success the more satisfactory. farewell, my dear huxley, and do not kill yourself with work. ( / . the following group of letters deals with the problem of the causes of the sterility of hybrids. mr. darwin's final view is given in the "origin," sixth edition (page , edition ). he acknowledges that it would be advantageous to two incipient species, if by physiological isolation due to mutual sterility, they could be kept from blending: but he continues, "after mature reflection it seems to me that this could not have been effected through natural selection." and finally he concludes (page ):-- "but it would be superfluous to discuss this question in detail; for with plants we have conclusive evidence that the sterility of crossed species must be due to some principle quite independent of natural selection. both gartner and kolreuter have proved that in genera including numerous species, a series can be formed from species which when crossed yield fewer and fewer seeds, to species which never produce a single seed, but yet are affected by the pollen of certain other species, for the germen swells. it is here manifestly impossible to select the more sterile individuals, which have already ceased to yield seeds; so that this acme of sterility, when the germen alone is affected, cannot have been gained through selection; and from the laws governing the various grades of sterility being so uniform throughout the animal and vegetable kingdoms, we may infer that the cause, whatever it may be, is the same or nearly the same in all cases." mr. wallace, on the other hand, still adheres to his view: see his "darwinism," , page , and for a more recent statement see page , note , letter , and page . the discussion of began with a letter from mr. wallace, written towards the end of february, giving his opinion on the "variation of animals and plants;" the discussion on the sterility of hybrids is at page , volume ii., of the first edition.) letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. february . the only parts i have yet met with where i somewhat differ from your views, are in the chapter on the causes of variability, in which i think several of your arguments are unsound: but this is too long a subject to go into now. also, i do not see your objection to sterility between allied species having been aided by natural selection. it appears to me that, given a differentiation of a species into two forms, each of which was adapted to a special sphere of existence, every slight degree of sterility would be a positive advantage, not to the individuals who were sterile, but to each form. if you work it out, and suppose the two incipient species a...b to be divided into two groups, one of which contains those which are fertile when the two are crossed, the other being slightly sterile, you will find that the latter will certainly supplant the former in the struggle for existence; remembering that you have shown that in such a cross the offspring would be more vigorous than the pure breed, and therefore would certainly soon supplant them, and as these would not be so well adapted to any special sphere of existence as the pure species a and b, they would certainly in their turn give way to a and b. letter . to a.r. wallace. february th [ ]. i shall be very glad to hear, at some future day, your criticisms on the "causes of variability." indeed, i feel sure that i am right about sterility and natural selection. two of my grown-up children who are acute reasoners have two or three times at intervals tried to prove me wrong; and when your letter came they had another try, but ended by coming back to my side. i do not quite understand your case, and we think that a word or two is misplaced. i wish some time you would consider the case under the following point of view. if sterility is caused or accumulated through natural selection, then, as every degree exists up to absolute barrenness, natural selection must have the power of increasing it. now take two species a and b, and assume that they are (by any means) half-sterile, i.e., produce half the full number of offspring. now try and make (by natural selection) a and b absolutely sterile when crossed, and you will find how difficult it is. i grant, indeed it is certain, that the degree of the sterility of the individuals of a and b will vary; but any such extra-sterile individuals of, we will say a, if they should hereafter breed with other individuals of a, will bequeath no advantage to their progeny, by which these families will tend to increase in number over other families of a, which are not more sterile when crossed with b. but i do not know that i have made this any clearer than in the chapter in my book. it is a most difficult bit of reasoning, which i have gone over and over again on paper with diagrams. ( / . this letter appeared in "life and letters," iii., page .) letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. march st, . i beg to enclose what appears to me a demonstration on your own principles, that natural selection could produce sterility of hybrids. if it does not convince you, i shall be glad if you will point out where the fallacy lies. i have taken the two cases of a slight sterility overcoming perfect fertility, and of a perfect sterility overcoming a partial fertility,--the beginning and end of the process. you admit that variations in fertility and sterility occur, and i think you will also admit that if i demonstrate that a considerable amount of sterility would be advantageous to a variety, that is sufficient proof that the slightest variation in that direction would be useful also, and would go on accumulating. . let there be a species which has varied into two forms, each adapted to existing conditions ( / . "existing conditions," means of course new conditions which have now come into existence. and the "two" being both better adapted than the parent form, means that they are better adapted each to a special environment in the same area--as one to damp, another to dry places; one to woods, another to open grounds, etc., etc., as darwin had already explained. a.r.w. ( ).) better than the parent form, which they supplant. . if these two forms, which are supposed to co-exist in the same district, do not intercross, natural selection will accumulate favourable variations, till they become sufficiently well adapted to their conditions of life and form two allied species. . but if these two forms freely intercross with each other and produce hybrids which are also quite fertile inter se, then the formation of the two distinct races or species will be retarded or perhaps entirely prevented; for the offspring of the crossed unions will be more vigorous owing to the cross, although less adapted to their conditions of life than either of the pure breeds. ( / . after "pure breeds," add "because less specialised." a.r.w. ( ).) . now let a partial sterility of some individuals of these two forms arise when they intercross; and as this would probably be due to some special conditions of life, we may fairly suppose it to arise in some definite portion of the area occupied by the two forms. . the result is that in this area hybrids will not increase so rapidly as before; and as by the terms of the problem the two pure forms are better suited to the conditions of life than the hybrids, they will tend to supplant the latter altogether whenever the struggle for existence becomes severe. . we may fairly suppose, also, that as soon as any sterility appears under natural conditions, it will be accompanied by some disinclination to cross-unions; and this will further diminish the production of hybrids. . in the other part of the area, however, where hybridism occurs unchecked, hybrids of various degrees will soon far outnumber the parent or pure form. . the first result, then, of a partial sterility of crosses appearing in one part of the area occupied by the two forms, will be, that the great majority of the individuals will there consist of the pure forms only, while in the rest of the area these will be in a minority,--which is the same as saying, that the new sterile or physiological variety of the two forms will be better suited to the conditions of existence than the remaining portion which has not varied physiologically. . but when the struggle for existence becomes severe, that variety which is best adapted to the conditions of existence always supplants that which is imperfectly adapted; therefore by natural selection the sterile varieties of the two forms will become established as the only ones. . now let a fresh series of variations in the amount of sterility and in the disinclination to crossed unions occur,--also in certain parts of the area: exactly the same result must recur, and the progeny of this new physiological variety again in time occupy the whole area. . there is yet another consideration that supports this view. it seems probable that the variations in amount of sterility would to some extent concur with and perhaps depend upon the structural variations; so that just in proportion as the two forms diverged and became better adapted to the conditions of existence, their sterility would increase. if this were the case, then natural selection would act with double strength, and those varieties which were better adapted to survive both structurally and physiologically, would certainly do so. ( / . the preceding eleven paragraphs are substantially but not verbally identical with the statement of the argument in mr. wallace's "darwinism," . pages , , note .) . let us now consider the more difficult case of two allied species a, b, in the same area, half the individuals of each (as, bs) being absolutely sterile, the other half (af, bf) being partially fertile: will as, bs ultimately exterminate af, bf? . to avoid complication, it must be granted, that between as and bs no cross-unions take place, while between af and bf cross-unions are as frequent as direct unions, though much less fertile. we must also leave out of consideration crosses between as and af, bs and bf, with their various approaches to sterility, as i believe they will not affect the final result, although they will greatly complicate the problem. . in the first generation there will result: st, the pure progeny of as and bs; nd, the pure progeny of af and of bf; and rd, the hybrid progeny of af, bf. . supposing that, in ordinary years, the increased constitutional vigour of the hybrids exactly counterbalances their imperfect adaptations to conditions, there will be in the second generation, besides these three classes, hybrids of the second degree between the first hybrids and af and bf respectively. in succeeding generations there will be hybrids of all degrees, varying between the first hybrids and the almost pure types of af and bf. . now, if at first the number of individuals of as, bs, af and bf were equal, and year after year the total number continues stationary, i think it can be proved that, while half will be the pure progeny of as and bs, the other half will become more and more hybridised, until the whole will be hybrids of various degrees. . now, this hybrid and somewhat intermediate race cannot be so well adapted to the conditions of life as the two pure species, which have been formed by the minute adaptation to conditions through natural selection; therefore, in a severe struggle for existence, the hybrids must succumb, especially as, by hypothesis, their fertility would not be so great as that of the two pure species. . if we were to take into consideration the unions of as with af and bs with bf, the results would become very complicated, but it must still lead to there being a number of pure forms entirely derived from as and bs, and of hybrid forms mainly derived from af and bf; and the result of the struggle of these two sets of individuals cannot be doubtful. . if these arguments are sound, it follows that sterility may be accumulated and increased, and finally made complete by natural selection, whether the sterile varieties originate together in a definite portion of the area occupied by the two species, or occur scattered over the whole area. ( / . the first part of this discussion should be considered alone, as it is both more simple and more important. i now believe that the utility, and therefore the cause of sterility between species, is during the process of differentiation. when species are fully formed, the occasional occurrence of hybrids is of comparatively small importance, and can never be a danger to the existence of the species. a.r.w. ( ).) p.s.--in answer to the objection as to the unequal sterility of reciprocal crosses ("variation, etc." volume ii., page ) i reply that, as far as it went, the sterility of one cross would be advantageous even if the other cross was fertile: and just as characters now co-ordinated may have been separately accumulated by natural selection, so the reciprocal crosses may have become sterile one at a time. letter . to a.r. wallace. , chester place, march th, . ( / . mr. darwin had already written a short note to mr. wallace expressing a general dissent from his view.) i do not feel that i shall grapple with the sterility argument till my return home; i have tried once or twice, and it has made my stomach feel as if it had been placed in a vice. your paper has driven three of my children half mad--one sat up till o'clock over it. my second son, the mathematician, thinks that you have omitted one almost inevitable deduction which apparently would modify the result. he has written out what he thinks, but i have not tried fully to understand him. i suppose that you do not care enough about the subject to like to see what he has written. letter a. a.r. wallace to charles darwin. hurstpierpoint, march, th [ ]. i return your son's notes with my notes on them. without going into any details, is not this a strong general argument? . a species varies occasionally in two directions, but owing to their free intercrossing the varieties never increase. . a change of conditions occurs which threatens the existence of the species; but the two varieties are adapted to the changing conditions, and if accumulated will form two new species adapted to the new conditions. . free crossing, however, renders this impossible, and so the species is in danger of extinction. . if sterility would be induced, then the pure races would increase more rapidly, and replace the old species. . it is admitted that partial sterility between varieties does occasionally occur. it is admitted [that] the degree of this sterility varies; is it not probable that natural selection can accumulate these variations, and thus save the species? if natural selection can not do this, how do species ever arise, except when a variety is isolated? closely allied species in distinct countries being sterile is no difficulty; for either they diverged from a common ancestor in contact, and natural selection increased the sterility, or they were isolated, and have varied since: in which case they have been for ages influenced by distinct conditions which may well produce sterility. if the difficulty of grafting was as great as the difficulty of crossing, and as regular, i admit it would be a most serious objection. but it is not. i believe many distinct species can be grafted, while others less distinct cannot. the regularity with which natural species are sterile together, even when very much alike, i think is an argument in favour of the sterility having been generally produced by natural selection for the good of the species. the other difficulty, of unequal sterility of reciprocal crosses, seems none to me; for it is a step to more complete sterility, and as such would be increased by selection. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, april th [ ]. i have been considering the terrible problem. let me first say that no man could have more earnestly wished for the success of natural selection in regard to sterility than i did; and when i considered a general statement (as in your last note) i always felt sure it could be worked out, but always failed in detail. the cause being, as i believe, that natural selection cannot effect what is not good for the individual, including in this term a social community. it would take a volume to discuss all the points, and nothing is so humiliating to me as to agree with a man like you (or hooker) on the premises and disagree about the result. i agree with my son's argument and not with the rejoinder. the cause of our difference, i think, is that i look at the number of offspring as an important element (all circumstances remaining the same) in keeping up the average number of individuals within any area. i do not believe that the amount of food by any means is the sole determining cause of number. lessened fertility is equivalent to a new source of destruction. i believe if in one district a species produced from any cause fewer young, the deficiency would be supplied from surrounding districts. this applies to your paragraph . ( / . see letter .) if the species produced fewer young from any cause in every district, it would become extinct unless its fertility were augmented through natural selection (see h. spencer). i demur to probability and almost to possibility of paragraph ., as you start with two forms within the same area, which are not mutually sterile, and which yet have supplanted the parent-form. (paragraph .) i know of no ghost of a fact supporting belief that disinclination to cross accompanies sterility. it cannot hold with plants, or the lower fixed aquatic animals. i saw clearly what an immense aid this would be, but gave it up. disinclination to cross seems to have been independently acquired, probably by natural selection; and i do not see why it would not have sufficed to have prevented incipient species from blending to have simply increased sexual disinclination to cross. (paragraph .) i demur to a certain extent to amount of sterility and structural dissimilarity necessarily going together, except indirectly and by no means strictly. look at vars. of pigeons, fowls, and cabbages. i overlooked the advantage of the half-sterility of reciprocal crosses; yet, perhaps from novelty, i do not feel inclined to admit probability of natural selection having done its work so queerly. i will not discuss the second case of utter sterility, but your assumptions in paragraph seem to me much too complicated. i cannot believe so universal an attribute as utter sterility between remote species was acquired in so complex a manner. i do not agree with your rejoinder on grafting: i fully admit that it is not so closely restricted as crossing, but this does not seem to me to weaken the case as one of analogy. the incapacity of grafting is likewise an invariable attribute of plants sufficiently remote from each other, and sometimes of plants pretty closely allied. the difficulty of increasing the sterility through natural selection of two already sterile species seems to me best brought home by considering an actual case. the cowslip and primrose are moderately sterile, yet occasionally produce hybrids. now these hybrids, two or three or a dozen in a whole parish, occupy ground which might have been occupied by either pure species, and no doubt the latter suffer to this small extent. but can you conceive that any individual plants of the primrose and cowslip which happened to be mutually rather more sterile (i.e. which, when crossed, yielded a few less seed) than usual, would profit to such a degree as to increase in number to the ultimate exclusion of the present primrose and cowslip? i cannot. my son, i am sorry to say, cannot see the full force of your rejoinder in regard to second head of continually augmented sterility. you speak in this rejoinder, and in paragraph , of all the individuals becoming in some slight degree sterile in certain districts: if you were to admit that by continued exposure to these same conditions the sterility would inevitably increase, there would be no need of natural selection. but i suspect that the sterility is not caused so much by any particular conditions as by long habituation to conditions of any kind. to speak according to pangenesis, the gemmules of hybrids are not injured, for hybrids propagate freely by buds; but their reproductive organs are somehow affected, so that they cannot accumulate the proper gemmules, in nearly the same manner as the reproductive organs of a pure species become affected when exposed to unnatural conditions. this is a very ill-expressed and ill-written letter. do not answer it, unless the spirit urges you. life is too short for so long a discussion. we shall, i greatly fear, never agree. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. hurstpierpoint, [april?] th, . i am sorry you should have given yourself the trouble to answer my ideas on sterility. if you are not convinced, i have little doubt but that i am wrong; and, in fact, i was only half convinced by my own arguments, and i now think there is about an even chance that natural selection may or may not be able to accumulate sterility. if my first proposition is modified to the existence of a species and a variety in the same area, it will do just as well for my argument. such certainly do exist. they are fertile together, and yet each maintains itself tolerably distinct. how can this be, if there is no disinclination to crossing? my belief certainly is that number of offspring is not so important an element in keeping up population of a species as supply of food and other favourable conditions; because the numbers of a species constantly vary greatly in different parts of its own area, whereas the average number of offspring is not a very variable element. however, i will say no more, but leave the problem as insoluble, only fearing that it will become a formidable weapon in the hands of the enemies of natural selection. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following extract from a letter to sir joseph hooker (dated april rd, ) refers to his presidential address for the approaching meeting of the british association at norwich. some account of sir joseph's success is given in the "life and letters," iii., page , also in huxley's "life," volume i., page , where huxley writes to darwin:-- "we had a capital meeting at norwich, and dear old hooker came out in great force, as he always does in emergencies. the only fault was the terrible 'darwinismus' which spread over the section and crept out when you least expected it, even in fergusson's lecture on 'buddhist temples.' you will have the rare happiness to see your ideas triumphant during your lifetime. "p.s.--i am going into opposition; i can't stand it.") down, april rd [ ]. i have been thinking over your presidential address; i declare i made myself quite uncomfortable by fancying i had to do it, and feeling myself utterly dumbfounded. but i do not believe that you will find it so difficult. when you come to down i shall be very curious to hear what your ideas are on the subject. could you make anything out of a history of the great steps in the progress of botany, as representing the whole of natural history? heaven protect you! i suppose there are men to whom such a job would not be so awful as it appears to me...if you had time, you ought to read an article by w. bagehot in the april number of the "fortnightly" ( / . "physic and politics," "fortnightly review," volume iii., page , .), applying natural selection to early or prehistoric politics, and, indeed, to late politics,--this you know is your view. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. , st. mark's crescent, n.w., august th [ ]. i ought to have written before to thank you for the copies of your papers on primula and on "cross-unions of dimorphic plants, etc." the latter is particularly interesting and the conclusion most important; but i think it makes the difficulty of how these forms, with their varying degrees of sterility, originated, greater than ever. if "natural selection" could not accumulate varying degrees of sterility for the plant's benefit, then how did sterility ever come to be associated with one cross of a trimorphic plant rather than another? the difficulty seems to be increased by the consideration that the advantage of a cross with a distinct individual is gained just as well by illegitimate as by legitimate unions. by what means, then, did illegitimate unions ever become sterile? it would seem a far simpler way for each plant's pollen to have acquired a prepotency on another individual's stigma over that of the same individual, without the extraordinary complication of three differences of structure and eighteen different unions with varying degrees of sterility! however, the fact remains an excellent answer to the statement that sterility of hybrids proves the absolute distinctness of the parents. i have been reading with great pleasure mr. bentham's last admirable address ( / . "proc. linn. soc." - , page lvii.), in which he so well replies to the gross misstatements of the "athenaeum;" and also says award in favour of pangenesis. i think we may now congratulate you on having made a valuable convert, whose opinions on the subject, coming so late and being evidently so well considered, will have much weight. i am going to norwich on tuesday to hear dr. hooker, who i hope will boldly promulgate "darwinism" in his address. ( / . sir joseph hooker's presidential address at the british association meeting.) shall we have the pleasure of seeing you there? i am engaged in negociations about my book. hoping you are well and getting on with your next volumes. ( / . we are permitted by mr. wallace to append the following note as to his more recent views on the question of natural selection and sterility:-- "when writing my "darwinism," and coming again to the consideration of this problem of the effect of natural selection in accumulating variations in the amount of sterility between varieties or incipient species twenty years later, i became more convinced, than i was when discussing with darwin, of the substantial accuracy of my argument. recently a correspondent who is both a naturalist and a mathematician has pointed out to me a slight error in my calculation at page (which does not, however, materially affect the result), disproving the 'physiological selection' of the late dr. romanes, but he can see no fallacy in my argument as to the power of natural selection to increase sterility between incipient species, nor, so far as i am aware, has any one shown such fallacy to exist. "on the other points on which i differed from mr. darwin in the foregoing discussion--the effect of high fertility on population of a species, etc.--i still hold the views i then expressed, but it would be out of place to attempt to justify them here." a.r.w. ( ).) letter . to c. lyell. down, october th [ ]. with respect to the points in your note, i may sometimes have expressed myself with ambiguity. at the end of chapter xxiii., where i say that marked races are not often (you omit "often") produced by changed conditions ( / . "hence, although it must be admitted that new conditions of life do sometimes definitely affect organic beings, it may be doubted whether well-marked races have often been produced by the direct action of changed conditions without the aid of selection either by man or nature." ("animals and plants," volume ii., page , .)), i intended to refer to the direct action of such conditions in causing variation, and not as leading to the preservation or destruction of certain forms. there is as wide a difference in these two respects as between voluntary selection by man and the causes which induce variability. i have somewhere in my book referred to the close connection between natural selection and the action of external conditions in the sense which you specify in your note. and in this sense all natural selection may be said to depend on changed conditions. in the "origin" i think i have underrated (and from the cause which you mention) the effects of the direct action of external conditions in producing varieties; but i hope in chapter xxiii. i have struck as fair a balance as our knowledge permits. it is wonderful to me that you have patience to read my slips, and i cannot but regret, as they are so imperfect; they must, i think, give you a wrong impression, and had i sternly refused, you would perhaps have thought better of my book. every single slip is greatly altered, and i hope improved. with respect to the human ovule, i cannot find dimensions given, though i have often seen the statement. my impression is that it would be just or barely visible if placed on a clear piece of glass. huxley could answer your question at once. i have not been well of late, and have made slow progress, but i think my book will be finished by the middle of november. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. [end of february, ] i am in the second volume of your book, and i have been astonished at the immense number of interesting facts you have brought together. i read the chapter on pangenesis first, for i could not wait. i can hardly tell you how much i admire it. it is a positive comfort to me to have any feasible explanation of a difficulty that has always been haunting me, and i shall never be able to give it up till a better one supplies its place,--and that i think hardly possible. you have now fairly beaten spencer on his own ground, for he really offered no solution of the difficulties of the problem. the incomprehensible minuteness and vast numbers of the physiological germs or atoms (which themselves must be compounded of numbers of spencer's physiological units) is the only difficulty; but that is only on a par with the difficulties in all conceptions of matter, space, motion, force, etc. as i understood spencer, his physiological units were identical throughout each species, but slightly different in each different species; but no attempt was made to show how the identical form of the parent or ancestors came to be built up of such units. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, february th [ ]. you cannot well imagine how much i have been pleased by what you say about pangenesis. none of my friends will speak out, except to a certain extent sir h. holland, who found it very tough reading, but admits that some view "closely akin to it" will have to be admitted. hooker, as far as i understand him, which i hardly do at present, seems to think that the hypothesis is little more than saying that organisms have such and such potentialities. what you say exactly and fully expresses my feelings--viz., that it is a relief to have some feasible explanation of the various facts, which can be given up as soon as any better hypothesis is found. it has certainly been an immense relief to my mind; for i have been stumbling over the subject for years, dimly seeing that some relation existed between the various classes of facts. i now hear from h. spencer that his views quoted in my footnote refer to something quite distinct, as you seem to have perceived. ( / . this letter is published in "life and letters," iii., page .) letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. hurstpierpoint, march st, . ...sir c. lyell spoke to me as if he has greatly admired pangenesis. i am very glad h. spencer at once acknowledges that his view was something quite distinct from yours. although, as you know, i am a great admirer of his, i feel how completely his view failed to go to the root of the matter, as yours does. his explained nothing, though he was evidently struggling hard to find an explanation. yours, as far as i can see, explains everything in growth and reproduction--though, of course, the mystery of life and consciousness remains as great as ever. parts of the chapter on pangenesis i found hard reading, and have not quite mastered yet, and there are also throughout the discussions in volume ii. many bits of hard reading, on minute points which we, who have not worked experimentally at cultivation and crossing, as you have done, can hardly see the importance of, or their bearing on the general question. if i am asked, i may perhaps write an article on the book for some periodical, and, if so, shall do what i can to make "pangenesis" appreciated... ( / . in "nature," may th, , page , appeared a letter on pangenesis from mr. a.c. ranyard, dealing with the difficulty that the "sexual elements produced upon the scion" have not been shown to be affected by the stock. mr. darwin, in an annotated copy of this letter, disputes the accuracy of the statement, but adds: "the best objection yet raised." he seems not to have used mr. ranyard's remarks in the nd edition of the "variation of animals and plants," .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may st [ ]. i know that you have been overworking yourself, and that makes you think that you are doing nothing in science. if this is the case (which i do not believe), your intellect has all run to letter-writing, for i never in all my life received a pleasanter one than your last. it greatly amused us all. how dreadfully severe you are on the duke ( / . the late duke of argyll, whose "reign of law" sir j.d. hooker had been reading.): i really think too severe, but then i am no fair judge, for a duke, in my eyes, is no common mortal, and not to be judged by common rules! i pity you from the bottom of my soul about the address ( / . sir joseph was president of the british association at norwich in : see "life and letters," iii., page . the reference to "insular floras" is to sir joseph's lecture at the nottingham meeting of the british association in : see "life and letters," iii., page .): it makes my flesh creep; but when i pitied you to huxley, he would not join at all, and would only say that you did and delivered your insular flora lecture so admirably in every way that he would not bestow any pity on you. he felt certain that you would keep your head high up. nevertheless, i wish to god it was all over for your sake. i think, from several long talks, that huxley will give an excellent and original lecture on geograph. distrib. of birds. i have been working very hard--too hard of late--on sexual selection, which turns out a gigantic subject; and almost every day new subjects turn up requiring investigation and leading to endless letters and searches through books. i am bothered, also, with heaps of foolish letters on all sorts of subjects, but i am much interested in my subject, and sometimes see gleams of light. all my other letters have prevented me indulging myself in writing to you; but i suddenly found the locust grass ( / . no doubt the plants raised from seeds taken from locust dung sent by mr. weale from south africa. the case is mentioned in the fifth edition of the "origin," published in , page .) yesterday in flower, and had to despatch it at once. i suppose some of your assistants will be able to make the genus out without great trouble. i have done little in experiment of late, but i find that mignonette is absolutely sterile with pollen from the same plant. any one who saw stamen after stamen bending upwards and shedding pollen over the stigmas of the same flower would declare that the structure was an admirable contrivance for self-fertilisation. how utterly mysterious it is that there should be some difference in ovules and contents of pollen-grains (for the tubes penetrate own stigma) causing fertilisation when these are taken from any two distinct plants, and invariably leading to impotence when taken from the same plant! by jove, even pan. ( / . pangenesis.) won't explain this. it is a comfort to me to think that you will be surely haunted on your death-bed for not honouring the great god pan. i am quite delighted at what you say about my book, and about bentham; when writing it, i was much interested in some parts, but latterly i thought quite as poorly of it as even the "athenaeum." it ought to be read abroad for the sake of the booksellers, for five editions have come or are coming out abroad! i am ashamed to say that i have read only the organic part of lyell, and i admire all that i have read as much as you. it is a comfort to know that possibly when one is seventy years old one's brain may be good for work. it drives me mad, and i know it does you too, that one has no time for reading anything beyond what must be read: my room is encumbered with unread books. i agree about wallace's wonderful cleverness, but he is not cautious enough in my opinion. i find i must (and i always distrust myself when i differ from him) separate rather widely from him all about birds' nests and protection; he is riding that hobby to death. i never read anything so miserable as andrew murray's criticism on wallace in the last number of his journal. ( / . see "journal of travel and natural history," volume i., no. , page , london, , for andrew murray's "reply to mr. wallace's theory of birds' nests," which appeared in the same volume, page . the "journal" came to an end after the publication of one volume for - .) i believe this journal will die, and i shall not cry: what a contrast with the old "natural history review." letter . to j.d. hooker. freshwater, isle of wight, july th [ ]. i am glad to hear that you are going ( / . in his presidential address at norwich.) to touch on the statement that the belief in natural selection is passing away. i do not suppose that even the "athenaeum" would pretend that the belief in the common descent of species is passing away, and this is the more important point. this now almost universal belief in the evolution (somehow) of species, i think may be fairly attributed in large part to the "origin." it would be well for you to look at the short introduction of owen's "anat. of invertebrates," and see how fully he admits the descent of species. of the "origin," four english editions, one or two american, two french, two german, one dutch, one italian, and several (as i was told) russian editions. the translations of my book on "variation under domestication" are the results of the "origin;" and of these two english, one american, one german, one french, one italian, and one russian have appeared, or will soon appear. ernst hackel wrote to me a week or two ago, that new discussions and reviews of the "origin" are continually still coming out in germany, where the interest on the subject certainly does not diminish. i have seen some of these discussions, and they are good ones. i apprehend that the interest on the subject has not died out in north america, from observing in professor and mrs. agassiz's book on brazil how exceedingly anxious he is to destroy me. in regard to this country, every one can judge for himself, but you would not say interest was dying out if you were to look at the last number of the "anthropological review," in which i am incessantly sneered at. i think lyell's "principles" will produce a considerable effect. i hope i have given you the sort of information which you want. my head is rather unsteady, which makes my handwriting worse than usual. if you argue about the non-acceptance of natural selection, it seems to me a very striking fact that the newtonian theory of gravitation, which seems to every one now so certain and plain, was rejected by a man so extraordinarily able as leibnitz. the truth will not penetrate a preoccupied mind. wallace ( / . wallace, "westminster review," july, . the article begins: "there is no more convincing proof of the truth of a comprehensive theory, than its power of absorbing and finding a place for new facts, and its capability of interpreting phenomena, which had been previously looked upon as unaccountable anomalies..." mr. wallace illustrates his statement that "a false theory will never stand this test," by edward forbes' "polarity" speculations (see page of the present volume) and macleay's "circular" and "quinarian system" published in his "horae entomologicae," , and developed by swainson in the natural history volumes of "lardner's cabinet cyclopaedia." mr. wallace says that a "considerable number of well-known naturalists either spoke approvingly of it, or advocated similar principles, and for a good many years it was decidedly in the ascendant...yet it quite died out in a few short years, its very existence is now a matter of history, and so rapid was its fall that...swainson, perhaps, lived to be the last man who believed in it. such is the course of a false theory. that of a true one is very different, as may be well seen by the progress of opinion on the subject of natural selection." here, (page ) follows a passage on the overwhelming importance of natural selection, underlined with apparent approval in mr. darwin's copy of the review.), in the "westminster review," in an article on protection has a good passage, contrasting the success of natural selection and its growth with the comprehension of new classes of facts ( / . this rather obscure phrase may be rendered: "its power of growth by the absorption of new facts."), with false theories, such as the quinarian theory, and that of polarity, by poor forbes, both of which were promulgated with high advantages and the first temporarily accepted. letter . to g.h. lewes. ( / . the following is printed from a draft letter inscribed by mr. darwin "against organs having been formed by direct action of medium in distinct organisms. chiefly luminous and electric organs and thorns." the draft is carelessly written, and all but illegible.) august th, . if you mean that in distinct animals, parts or organs, such for instance as the luminous organs of insects or the electric organs of fishes, are wholly the result of the external and internal conditions to which the organs have been subjected, in so direct and inevitable a manner that they could be developed whether of use or not to their possessor, i cannot admit [your view]. i could almost as soon admit that the whole structure of, for instance, a woodpecker, had thus originated; and that there should be so close a relation between structure and external circumstances which cannot directly affect the structure seems to me to [be] inadmissible. such organs as those above specified seem to me much too complex and generally too well co-ordinated with the whole organisation, for the admission that they result from conditions independently of natural selection. the impression which i have taken, studying nature, is strong, that in all cases, if we could collect all the forms which have ever lived, we should have a close gradation from some most simple beginning. if similar conditions sufficed, without the aid of natural selection, to give similar parts or organs, independently of blood relationship, i doubt much whether we should have that striking harmony between the affinities, embryological development, geographical distribution, and geological succession of all allied organisms. we should be much more puzzled than we now are how to class, in a natural method, many forms. it is puzzling enough to distinguish between resemblance due to descent and to adaptation; but (fortunately for naturalists), owing to the strong power of inheritance, and to excessively complex causes and laws of variability, when the same end or object has been gained, somewhat different parts have generally been modified, and modified in a different manner, so that the resemblances due to descent and adaptation can commonly be distinguished. i should just like to add, that we may understand each other, how i suppose the luminous organs of insects, for instance, to have been developed; but i depend on conjectures, for so few luminous insects exist that we have no means of judging, by the preservation to the present day of slightly modified forms, of the probable gradations through which the organs have passed. moreover, we do not know of what use these organs are. we see that the tissues of many animals, [as] certain centipedes in england, are liable, under unknown conditions of food, temperature, etc., to become occasionally luminous; just like the [illegible]: such luminosity having been advantageous to certain insects, the tissues, i suppose, become specialised for this purpose in an intensified degree; in certain insects in one part, in other insects in other parts of the body. hence i believe that if all extinct insect-forms could be collected, we should have gradations from the elateridae, with their highly and constantly luminous thoraxes, and from the lampyridae, with their highly luminous abdomens, to some ancient insects occasionally luminous like the centipede. i do not know, but suppose that the microscopical structure of the luminous organs in the most different insects is nearly the same; and i should attribute to inheritance from a common progenitor, the similarity of the tissues, which under similar conditions, allowed them to vary in the same manner, and thus, through natural selection for the same general purpose, to arrive at the same result. mutatis mutandis, i should apply the same doctrine to the electric organs of fishes; but here i have to make, in my own mind, the violent assumption that some ancient fish was slightly electrical without having any special organs for the purpose. it has been stated on evidence, not trustworthy, that certain reptiles are electrical. it is, moreover, possible that the so-called electric organs, whilst in a condition not highly developed, may have subserved some distinct function: at least, i think, matteucci could detect no pure electricity in certain fishes provided with the proper organs. in one of your letters you alluded to nails, claws, hoofs, etc. from their perfect coadaptation with the whole rest of the organisation, i cannot admit that they would have been formed by the direct action of the conditions of life. h. spencer's view that they were first developed from indurated skin, the result of pressure on the extremities, seems to me probable. in regard to thorns and spines i suppose that stunted and [illegible] hardened processes were primarily left by the abortion of various appendages, but i must believe that their extreme sharpness and hardness is the result of fluctuating variability and "the survival of the fittest." the precise form, curvature and colour of the thorns i freely admit to be the result of the laws of growth of each particular plant, or of their conditions, internal and external. it would be an astounding fact if any varying plant suddenly produced, without the aid of reversion or selection, perfect thorns. that natural selection would tend to produce the most formidable thorns will be admitted by every one who has observed the distribution in south america and africa (vide livingstone) of thorn-bearing plants, for they always appear where the bushes grow isolated and are exposed to the attacks of mammals. even in england it has been noticed that all spine-bearing and sting-bearing plants are palatable to quadrupeds, when the thorns are crushed. with respect to the malayan climbing palm, what i meant to express is that the admirable hooks were perhaps not first developed for climbing; but having been developed for protection were subsequently used, and perhaps further modified for climbing. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. about the "pall mall." ( / . "pall mall gazette," august nd, . in an article headed "dr. hooker on religion and science," and referring to the british association address, the writer objects to any supposed opposition between religion and science. "religion," he says, "is your opinion upon one set of subjects, science your opinion upon another set of subjects." but he forgets that on one side we have opinions assumed to be revealed truths; and this is a condition which either results in the further opinion that those who bring forward irreconcilable facts are more or less wicked, or in a change of front on the religious side, by which theological opinion "shifts its ground to meet the requirements of every new fact that science establishes, and every old error that science exposes" (dr. hooker as quoted by the "pall mall"). if theologians had been in the habit of recognising that, in the words of the "pall mall" writer, "science is a general name for human knowledge in its most definite and general shape, whatever may be the object of that knowledge," probably sir joseph hooker's remarks would never have been made.) i do not agree that the article was at all right; it struck me as monstrous (and answered on the spot by the "morning advertiser") that religion did not attack science. when, however, i say not at all right, i am not sure whether it would not be wisest for scientific men quite to ignore the whole subject of religion. goldwin smith, who has been lunching here, coming with the nortons (son of professor norton and friend of asa gray), who have taken for four months keston rectory, was strongly of opinion it was a mistake. several persons have spoken strongly to me as very much admiring your address. for chance of you caring to see yourself in a french dress, i send a journal; also with a weak article by agassiz on geographical distribution. berkeley has sent me his address ( / . the rev. m.j. berkeley was president of section d at norwich in .), so i have had a fair excuse for writing to him. i differ from you: i could hardly bear to shake hands with the "sugar of lead" ( / . "you know mrs. carlyle said that owen's sweetness reminded her of sugar of lead." (huxley to tyndall, may th, : huxley's "life," ii., page .), which i never heard before: it is capital. i am so very glad you will come here with asa gray, as if i am bad he will not be dull. we shall ask the nortons to come to dinner. on saturday, wallace (and probably mrs. w.), j. jenner weir (a very good man), and blyth, and i fear not bates, are coming to stay the sunday. the thought makes me rather nervous; but i shall enjoy it immensely if it does not kill me. how i wish it was possible for you to be here! letter . to m.j. berkeley. down, september th, . i am very much obliged to you for having sent me your address ( / . address to section d of the british association. ("brit. assoc. report," norwich meeting, , page .))...for i thus gain a fair excuse for troubling you with this note to thank you for your most kind and extremely honourable notice of my works. when i tell you that ever since i was an undergraduate at cambridge i have felt towards you the most unfeigned respect, from all that i continually heard from poor dear henslow and others of your great knowledge and original researches, you will believe me when i say that i have rarely in my life been more gratified than by reading your address; though i feel that you speak much too strongly of what i have done. your notice of pangenesis ( / . "it would be unpardonable to finish these somewhat desultory remarks without adverting to one of the most interesting subjects of the day,--the darwinian doctrine of pangenesis...like everything which comes from the pen of a writer whom i have no hesitation, so far as my judgment goes, in considering as by far the greatest observer of our age, whatever may be thought of his theories when carried out to their extreme results, the subject demands a careful and impartial consideration." (berkeley, page .)) has particularly pleased me, for it has been generally neglected or disliked by my friends; yet i fully expect that it will some day be more successful. i believe i quite agree with you in the manner in which the cast-off atoms or so-called gemmules probably act ( / . "assuming the general truth of the theory that molecules endowed with certain attributes are cast off by the component cells of such infinitesimal minuteness as to be capable of circulating with the fluids, and in the end to be present in the unimpregnated embryo-cell and spermatozoid...it seems to me far more probable that they should be capable under favourable circumstances of exercising an influence analogous to that which is exercised by the contents of the pollen-tube or spermatozoid on the embryo-sac or ovum, than that these particles should be themselves developed into cells" (berkeley, page ).): i have never supposed that they were developed into free cells, but that they penetrated other nascent cells and modified their subsequent development. this process i have actually compared with ordinary fertilisation. the cells thus modified, i suppose cast off in their turn modified gemmules, which again combine with other nascent cells, and so on. but i must not trouble you any further. letter . to august weismann. down, october nd, . i am very much obliged for your kind letter, and i have waited for a week before answering it in hopes of receiving the "kleine schrift" ( / . the "kleine schrift" is "ueber die berechtigung der darwin'schen theorie," leipzig, . the "anhang" is "ueber den einfluss der wanderung und raumlichen isolirung auf die artbilding.") to which you allude; but i fear it is lost, which i am much surprised at, as i have seldom failed to receive anything sent by the post. as i do not know the title, and cannot order a copy, i should be very much obliged if you can spare another. i am delighted that you, with whose name i am familiar, should approve of my work. i entirely agree with what you say about each species varying according to its own peculiar laws; but at the same time it must, i think, be admitted that the variations of most species have in the lapse of ages been extremely diversified, for i do not see how it can be otherwise explained that so many forms have acquired analogous structures for the same general object, independently of descent. i am very glad to hear that you have been arguing against nageli's law of perfectibility, which seems to me superfluous. others hold similar views, but none of them define what this "perfection" is which cannot be gradually attained through natural selection. i thought m. wagner's first pamphlet ( / . wagner's first essay, "die darwin'sche theorie und das migrationsgesetz," , is a separately published pamphlet of pages. in the preface the author states that it is a fuller version of a paper read before the royal academy of science at munich in march . we are not able to say which of wagner's writings is referred to as the second pamphlet; his second well-known essay, "ueber den einfluss der geogr. isolirung," etc., is of later date, viz., .) (for i have not yet had time to read the second) very good and interesting; but i think that he greatly overrates the necessity for emigration and isolation. i doubt whether he has reflected on what must occur when his forms colonise a new country, unless they vary during the very first generation; nor does he attach, i think, sufficient weight to the cases of what i have called unconscious selection by man: in these cases races are modified by the preservation of the best and the destruction of the worst, without any isolation. i sympathise with you most sincerely on the state of your eyesight: it is indeed the most fearful evil which can happen to any one who, like yourself, is earnestly attached to the pursuit of natural knowledge. letter . to f. muller. down, march th [ ]. since i wrote a few days ago and sent off three copies of your book, i have read the english translation ( / . "facts and arguments for darwin." see "life and letters," iii., page .), and cannot deny myself the pleasure of once again expressing to you my warm admiration. i might, but will not, repeat my thanks for the very honourable manner in which you often mention my name; but i can truly say that i look at the publication of your essay as one of the greatest honours ever conferred on me. nothing can be more profound and striking than your observations on development and classification. i am very glad that you have added your justification in regard to the metamorphoses of insects; for your conclusion now seems in the highest degree probable. ( / . see "facts and arguments for darwin," page (note), where f. muller gives his reasons for the belief that the "complete metamorphosis" of insects was not a character of the form from which insects have sprung: his argument largely depends on considerations drawn from the study of the neuroptera.) i have re-read many parts, especially that on cirripedes, with the liveliest interest. i had almost forgotten your discussion on the retrograde development of the rhizocephala. what an admirable illustration it affords of my whole doctrine! a man must indeed be a bigot in favour of separate acts of creation if he is not staggered after reading your essay; but i fear that it is too deep for english readers, except for a select few. letter . to a.r. wallace. march th [ ]. i have lately (i.e., in new edition of the "origin") ( / . fifth edition, , pages - .) been moderating my zeal, and attributing much more to mere useless variability. i did think i would send you the sheet, but i daresay you would not care to see it, in which i discuss nageli's essay on natural selection not affecting characters of no functional importance, and which yet are of high classificatory importance. hooker is pretty well satisfied with what i have said on this head. letter . to j.d. hooker. caerdeon, barmouth, north wales, july th [ ]. we shall be at home this day week, taking two days on the journey, and right glad i shall be. the whole has been a failure to me, but much enjoyment to the young...my wife has ailed a good deal nearly all the time; so that i loathe the place, with all its beauty. i was glad to hear what you thought of f. muller, and i agree wholly with you. your letter came at the nick of time, for i was writing on the very day to muller, and i passed on your approbation of chaps. x. and xi. some time i should like to borrow the "transactions of the new zealand institute," so as to read colenso's article. ( / . colenso, "on the maori races of new zealand." "n.z. inst. trans." , pt. .) you must read huxley v. comte ( / . "the scientific aspects of positivism." "fortnightly review," , page , and "lay sermons," , page . this was a reply to mr. congreve's article, "mr. huxley on m. comte," published in the april number of the "fortnightly," page , which had been written in criticism of huxley's article in the february number of the "fortnightly," page , "on the physical basis of life."); he never wrote anything so clever before, and has smashed everybody right and left in grand style. i had a vague wish to read comte, and so had george, but he has entirely cured us of any such vain wish. there is another article ( / . "north british review," volume , : "geological time," page . the papers reviewed are sir william thomson, "trans. r. soc. edin." ; "phil. mag." ; thomson and tait, "natural philosophy," volume i., app. d; sir w. thomson, "proc. r. soc. edin." ; "trans. geol. soc. glasgow," and ; "macmillan's mag." ; prof. huxley, presidential address, "geol. soc. london," february, ; dr. hooker, presidential address, "brit. assoc." norwich, . also the review on the "origin" in the "north british review," , by fleeming jenkin, and an article in the "pall mall gazette," may rd, . the author treats the last-named with contempt as the work of an anonymous journalist, apparently unconscious of his own similar position.) just come out in last "north british," by some great mathematician, which is admirably done; he has a severe fling at you ( / . the author of the "north british" article appears to us, at page , to misunderstand or misinterpret sir j.d. hooker's parable on "underpinning." see "life and letters," iii., page (note). sir joseph is attacked with quite unnecessary vehemence on another point at page .), but the article is directed against huxley and for thomson. this review shows me--not that i required being shown--how devilish a clever fellow huxley is, for the reviewer cannot help admiring his abilities. there are some good specimens of mathematical arrogance in the review, and incidentally he shows how often astronomers have arrived at conclusions which are now seen to be mistaken; so that geologists might truly answer that we must be slow in admitting your conclusions. nevertheless, all uniformitarians had better at once cry "peccavi,"--not but what i feel a conviction that the world will be found rather older than thomson makes it, and far older than the reviewer makes it. i am glad i have faced and admitted the difficulty in the last edition of the "origin," of which i suppose you received, according to order, a copy. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august th [ ]. there never was such a good man as you for telling me things which i like to hear. i am not at all surprised that hallett has found some varieties of wheat could not be improved in certain desirable qualities as quickly as at first. all experience shows this with animals; but it would, i think, be rash to assume, judging from actual experience, that a little more improvement could not be got in the course of a century, and theoretically very improbable that after a few thousands [of years] rest there would not be a start in the same line of variation. what astonishes me as against experience, and what i cannot believe, is that varieties already improved or modified do not vary in other respects. i think he must have generalised from two or three spontaneously fixed varieties. even in seedlings from the same capsule some vary much more than others; so it is with sub-varieties and varieties. ( / . in a letter of august th, , sir j.d. hooker wrote correcting mr. darwin's impression: "i did not mean to imply that hallett affirmed that all variation stopped--far from it: he maintained the contrary, but if i understand him aright, he soon arrives at a point beyond which any further accumulation in the direction sought is so small and so slow that practically a fixity of type (not absolute fixity, however) is the result.") it is a grand fact about anoplotherium ( / . this perhaps refers to the existence of anoplotherium in the s. american eocene formation: it is one of the points in which the fauna of s. america resembles europe rather than n. america. (see wallace "geographical distribution," i., page .)), and shows how even terrestrial quadrupeds had time formerly to spread to very distinct regions. at each epoch the world tends to get peopled pretty uniformly, which is a blessing for geology. the article in "n. british review" ( / . see letter .) is well worth reading scientifically; george d. and erasmus were delighted with it. how the author does hit! it was a euphuism to speak of a fling at you: it was a kick. he is very unfair to huxley, and accuses him of "quibbling," etc.; yet the author cannot help admiring him extremely. i know i felt very small when i finished the article. you will be amused to observe that geologists have all been misled by playfair, who was misled by two of the greatest mathematicians! and there are other such cases; so we could turn round and show your reviewer how cautious geologists ought to be in trusting mathematicians. there is another excellent original article, i feel sure by mcclennan, on primeval man, well worth reading. i do not quite agree about sabine: he is unlike every other soldier or sailor i ever heard of if he would not put his second leg into the tomb with more satisfaction as k.c.b. than as a simple man. i quite agree that the government ought to have made him long ago, but what does the government know or care for science? so much for your splenditious letter. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august th [ ?] i write one line to tell you that you are a real good man to propose coming here for a sunday after exeter. do keep to this good intention...i am sure exeter and your other visit will do you good. i often wonder how you stand all your multifarious work. i quite agree about the folly of the endless subscriptions for dead men; but faraday is an exception, and if you will pay three guineas for me, it will save me some trouble; but it will be best to enclose a cheque, which, as you will see, must be endorsed. if you read the "north british review," you will like to know that george has convinced me, from correspondence in style, and spirit, that the article is by tait, the co-worker with thomson. i was much surprised at the leaves of drosophyllum being always rolled backwards at their tips, but did not know that it was a unique character. (plate: sir j.d. hooker, ? from a photograph by wallich.) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. i heard yesterday from a relation who had seen in a newspaper that you were c.b. i must write one line to say "hurrah," though i wish it had been k.c.b., as it assuredly ought to have been; but i suppose they look at k.c.b. before c.b. as a dukedom before an earldom. we had a very successful week in london, and i was unusually well and saw a good many persons, which, when well, is a great pleasure to me. i had a jolly talk with huxley, amongst others. and now i am at the same work as before, and shall be for another two months--namely, putting ugly sentences rather straighter; and i am sick of the work, and, as the subject is all on sexual selection, i am weary of everlasting males and females, cocks and hens. it is a shame to bother you, but i should like some time to hear about the c.b. affair. i have read one or two interesting brochures lately--viz., stirling the hegelian versus huxley and protoplasm; tylor in "journal of royal institute" on the survivals of old thought in modern civilisation. farewell. i am as dull as a duck, both male and female. to dr. hooker, c.b., f.r.s. dr. hooker, k.c.b. (this looks better). p.s. i hear a good account of bentham's last address ( / . presidential address, chiefly on geographical distribution, delivered before the "linn. soc." may th, .), which i am now going to read. i find that i have blundered about bentham's address. lyell was speaking about one that i read some months ago; but i read half of it again last night, and shall finish it. some passages are either new or were not studied enough by me before. it strikes me as admirable, as it did on the first reading, though i differ in some few points. such an address is worth its weight in gold, i should think, in making converts to our views. lyell tells me that bunbury has been wonderfully impressed with it, and he never before thought anything of our views on evolution. p.s. ( ). i have just read, and like very much, your review of schimper. ( / . a review of schimper's "traite de paleontologie vegetale," the first portion of which was published in . "nature," november th, , page .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. thank you much for telling me all about the c.b., for i much wished to hear. it pleases me extremely that the government have done this much; and as the k.c.b.'s are limited in number (which i did not know), i excuse it. i will not mention what you have told me to any one, as it would be murchisonian. but what a shame it is to use this expression, for i fully believe that murchison would take any trouble to get any token of honour for any man of science. i like all scientific periodicals, including poor "scientific opinion," and i think higher than you do of "nature." lord, what a rhapsody that was of goethe, but how well translated; it seemed to me, as i told huxley, as if written by the maddest english scholar. it is poetry, and can i say anything more severe? the last number of the "academy" was splendid, and i hope it will soon come out fortnightly. i wish "nature" would search more carefully all foreign journals and transactions. i am now reading a german thick pamphlet ( / . "die abhangigheit der pflanzengestalt von klima und boden. ein beitrag zur lehre von der enstehung und verbreitung der arten, etc." festschrift zur versammlung deutscher naturforscher und aertze in innsbruck (innsbruck, ).) by kerner on tubocytisus; if you come across it, look at the map of the distribution of the eighteen quasi-species, and at the genealogical tree. if the latter, as the author says, was constructed solely from the affinities of the forms, then the distribution is wonderfully interesting; we may see the very steps of the formation of a species. if you study the genealogical tree and map, you will almost understand the book. the two old parent connecting links just keep alive in two or three areas; then we have four widely extended species, their descendants; and from them little groups of newer descendants inhabiting rather small areas... letter . to camille dareste. down, november th, . dear sir, i am glad that you are a candidate for the chair of physiology in paris. as you are aware from my published works, i have always considered your investigations on the production of monstrosities as full of interest. no subject is at the present time more important, as far as my judgment goes, than the ascertaining by experiment how far structure can be modified by the direct action of changed conditions; and you have thrown much light on this subject. i observe that several naturalists in various parts of europe have lately maintained that it is now of the highest interest for science to endeavour to lessen, as far as possible, our profound ignorance on the cause of each individual variation; and, as is. geoffroy st. hilaire long ago remarked, monstrosities cannot be separated by any distinct line from slighter variations. with my best wishes for your success in obtaining the professorship, and with sincere respect. i have the honour to remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, charles darwin. chapter .v.--evolution, - . letter . to j. jenner weir. down, march th [ ]. it is my decided opinion that you ought to send an account to some scientific society, and i think to the royal society. ( / . mr. jenner weir's case is given in "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page , and does not appear to have been published elsewhere. the facts are briefly that a horse, the offspring of a mare of lord mostyn's, which had previously borne a foal by a quagga, showed a number of quagga-like characters, such as stripes, low-growing mane, and elongated hoofs. the passage in "animals and plants," to which he directs mr. weir's attention in reference to carpenter's objection, is in edition i., volume i., page : "it is a most improbable hypothesis that the mere blood of one individual should affect the reproductive organs of another individual in such a manner as to modify the subsequent offspring. the analogy from the direct action of foreign pollen on the ovarium and seed-coats of the mother plant strongly supports the belief that the male element acts directly on the reproductive organs of the female, wonderful as is this action, and not through the intervention of the crossed embryo." for references to mr. galton's experiments on transfusion of blood, see letter .) i would communicate it if you so decide. you might give as a preliminary reason the publication in the "transactions" of the celebrated morton case and the pig case by mr. giles. you might also allude to the evident physiological importance of such facts as bearing on the theory of generation. whether it would be prudent to allude to despised pangenesis i cannot say, but i fully believe pangenesis will have its successful day. pray ascertain carefully the colour of the dam and sire. see about duns in my book ["animals and plants"], volume i., page . the extension of the mane and form of hoofs are grand new facts. is the hair of your horse at all curly? for [an] observed case [is] given by me (volume ii., page ) from azara of correlation of forms of hoof with curly hairs. see also in my book (volume i., page ; volume ii., page ) how exceedingly rare stripes are on the faces of horses in england. give the age of your horse. you are aware that dr. carpenter and others have tried to account for the effects of a first impregnation from the influence of the blood of the crossed embryo; but with physiologists who believe that the reproductive elements are actually formed by the reproductive glands, this view is inconsistent. pray look at what i have said in "domestic animals" (volume i., pages - ) against this doctrine. it seems to me more probable that the gemmules affect the ovaria alone. i remember formerly speculating, like you, on the assertion that wives grow like their husbands; but how impossible to eliminate effects of imitation and same habits of life, etc. your letter has interested me profoundly. p.s.--since publishing i have heard of additional cases--a very good one in regard to westphalian pigs crossed by english boar, and all subsequent offspring affected, given in "illust. landwirth-zeitung," , page . i have shown that mules are often striped, though neither parent may be striped,--due to ancient reversion. now, fritz muller writes to me from s. brazil: "i have been assured, by persons who certainly never had heard of lord morton's mare, that mares which have borne hybrids to an ass are particularly liable to produce afterwards striped ass-colts." so a previous fertilisation apparently gives to the subsequent offspring a tendency to certain characters, as well as characters actually possessed by the first male. in the reprint (not called a second edition) of my "domestic animals" i give a good additional case of subsequent progeny of hairless dog being hairy from effects of first impregnation. p.s. nd. the suggestion, no doubt, is superfluous, but you ought, i think, to measure extension of mane beyond a line joining front or back of ears, and compare with horse. also the measure (and give comparison with horse), length, breadth, and depth of hoofs. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, july th [ ]. your conclusion that all speculation about preordination is idle waste of time is the only wise one; but how difficult it is not to speculate! my theology is a simple muddle; i cannot look at the universe as the result of blind chance, yet i can see no evidence of beneficent design or indeed of design of any kind, in the details. as for each variation that has ever occurred having been preordained for a special end, i can no more believe in it than that the spot on which each drop of rain falls has been specially ordained. spontaneous generation seems almost as great a puzzle as preordination. i cannot persuade myself that such a multiplicity of organisms can have been produced, like crystals, in bastian's ( / . on september nd, , mr. darwin wrote to mr. wallace, in reference to the latter's review of "the beginnings of life," by h.c. bastian ( ), in "nature," , pages - : "at present i should prefer any mad hypothesis, such as that every disintegrated molecule of the lowest forms can reproduce the parent-form; and that these molecules are universally distributed, and that they do not lose their vital power until heated to such a temperature that they decompose like dead organic particles.") solutions of the same kind. i am astonished that, as yet, i have met with no allusion to wyman's positive statement ( / . "observations and experiments on living organisms in heated water," by jeffries wyman, prof. of anatomy, harvard coll. ("amer. journ. sci." xliv., , page .) solutions of organic matter in hermetically sealed flasks were immersed in boiling water for various periods. "no infusoria of any kind appeared if the boiling was prolonged beyond a period of five hours.") that if the solutions are boiled for five hours no organisms appear; yet, if my memory serves me, the solutions when opened to air immediately became stocked. against all evidence, i cannot avoid suspecting that organic particles (my "gemmules" from the separate cells of the lower creatures!) will keep alive and afterwards multiply under proper conditions. what an interesting problem it is. letter . to w.b. tegetmeier. down, july th [ ]. it is very long since i have heard from you, and i am much obliged for your letter. it is good news that you are going to bring out a new edition of your poultry book ( / . "the poultry book," .), and you are quite at liberty to use all my materials. thanks for the curious case of the wild duck variation: i have heard of other instances of a tendency to vary in one out of a large litter or family. i have too many things in hand at present to profit by your offer of the loan of the american poultry book. pray keep firm to your idea of working out the subject of analogous variations ( / . "by this term i mean that similar characters occasionally make their appearance in the several varieties or races descended from the same species, and more rarely in the offspring of widely distinct species" ("animals and plants," ii., edition ii., page ).) with pigeons; i really think you might thus make a novel and valuable contribution to science. i can, however, quite understand how much your time must be occupied with the never-ending, always-beginning editorial cares. i keep much as usual, and crawl on with my work. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. yours was a splendid letter, and i was very curious to hear something about the liverpool meeting ( / . mr. huxley was president of the british association at liverpool in . his presidential address on "biogenesis and abiogenesis" is reprinted in his collected essays, viii., page . some account of the meeting is given in huxley's "life and letters," volume i., pages , .), which i much wished to be successful for huxley's sake. i am surprised that you think his address would not have been clear to the public; it seemed to me as clear as water. the general line of his argument might have been answered by the case of spontaneous combustion: tens of thousands of cases of things having been seen to be set on fire would be no true argument against any one who maintained that flames sometimes spontaneously burst forth. i am delighted at the apotheosis of sir roderick; i can fancy what neat and appropriate speeches he would make to each nobleman as he entered the gates of heaven. you ask what i think about tyndall's lecture ( / . tyndall's lecture was "on the scientific uses of the imagination."): it seemed to me grand and very interesting, though i could not from ignorance quite follow some parts, and i longed to tell him how immensely it would have been improved if all the first part had been made very much less egotistical. george independently arrived at the same conclusion, and liked all the latter part extremely. he thought the first part not only egotistical, but rather clap-trap. how well tyndall puts the "as if" manner of philosophising, and shows that it is justifiable. some of those confounded frenchmen have lately been pitching into me for using this form of proof or argument. i have just read rolleston's address in "nature" ( / . presidential address to the biological section, british association, . "nature," september nd, , page . rolleston referred to the vitality of seeds in soil, a subject on which darwin made occasional observations. see "life and letters," ii., page .): his style is quite unparalleled! i see he quotes you about seed, so yesterday i went and observed more carefully the case given in the enclosed paper, which perhaps you might like to read and burn. how true and good what you say about lyell. he is always the same; dohrn was here yesterday, and was remarking that no one stood higher in the public estimation of germany than lyell. i am truly and profoundly glad that you are thinking of some general work on geographical distribution, or so forth; i hope to god that your incessant occupations may not interrupt this intention. as for my book, i shall not have done the accursed proofs till the end of november ( / . the proofs of the "descent of man" were finished on january th, .): good lord, what a muddled head i have got on my wretched old shoulders. letter . to h. settegast. down, september th, . i am very much obliged for your kind letter and present of your beautiful volume. ( / . "die thierzucht," .) your work is not new to me, for i heard it so highly spoken of that i procured a copy of the first edition. it was a great gratification to me to find a man who had long studied with a philosophical spirit our domesticated animals, and who was highly competent to judge, agreeing to a large extent with my views. i regretted much that i had not known your work when i published my last volumes. i am surprised and pleased to hear that science is not quite forgotten under the present exciting state of affairs. every one whom i know in england is an enthusiastic wisher for the full and complete success of germany. p.s. i will give one of my two copies of your work to some public scientific library in london. letter . to the editor of the "pall mall gazette." down, march th [ ]. mr. darwin presents his compliments to the editor, and would be greatly obliged if he would address and post the enclosed letter to the author of the two admirable reviews of the "descent of man." ( / . the notices of the "descent of man," published in the "pall mall gazette" of march th and st, , were by mr. john morley. we are indebted to the editor of the "pall mall gazette" for kindly allowing us to consult his file of the journal.) letter . to john morley. down, march th, . from the spirit of your review in the "pall mall gazette" of my last book, which has given me great pleasure, i have thought that you would perhaps inform me on one point, withholding, if you please, your name. you say that my phraseology on beauty is "loose scientifically, and philosophically most misleading." ( / . "mr. darwin's work is one of those rare and capital achievements of intellect which effect a grave modification throughout all the highest departments of the realm of opinion...there is throughout the description and examination of sexual selection a way of speaking of beauty, which seems to us to be highly unphilosophical, because it assumes a certain theory of beauty, which the most competent modern thinkers are too far from accepting, to allow its assumption to be quite judicious...why should we only find the aesthetic quality in birds wonderful, when it happens to coincide with our own? in other words, why attribute to them conscious aesthetic qualities at all? there is no more positive reason for attributing aesthetic consciousness to the argus pheasant than there is for attributing to bees geometric consciousness of the hexagonal prisms and rhombic plates of the hive which they so marvellously construct. hence the phraseology which mr. darwin employs in this part of the subject, though not affecting the degree of probability which may belong to this theory, seems to us to be very loose scientifically, and philosophically most misleading."--"pall mall gazette.") this is not at all improbable, as it is almost a lifetime since i attended to the philosophy of aesthetics, and did not then think that i should ever make use of my conclusions. can you refer me to any one or two books (for my power of reading is not great) which would illumine me? or can you explain in one or two sentences how i err? perhaps it would be best for me to explain what i mean by the sense of beauty in its lowest stage of development, and which can only apply to animals. when an intense colour, or two tints in harmony, or a recurrent and symmetrical figure please the eye, or a single sweet note pleases the ear, i call this a sense of beauty; and with this meaning i have spoken (though i now see in not a sufficiently guarded manner) of a taste for the beautiful being the same in mankind (for all savages admire bits of bright cloth, beads, plumes, etc.) and in the lower animals. if the blue and yellow plumage of a macaw ( / . "what man deems the horrible contrasts of yellow and blue attract the macaw, while ball-and-socket-plumage attracts the argus pheasant"--"pall mall gazette," march st, , page .) pleases the eye of this bird, i should say that it had a sense of beauty, although its taste was bad according to our standard. now, will you have the kindness to tell me how i can learn to see the error of my ways? of course i recognise, as indeed i have remarked in my book, that the sense of beauty in the case of scenery, pictures, etc., is something infinitely complex, depending on varied associations and culture of the mind. from a very interesting review in the "spectator," and from your and wallace's review, i perceive that i have made a great oversight in not having said what little i could on the acquisition of the sense for the beautiful by man and the lower animals. it would indeed be an immense advantage to an author if he could read such criticisms as yours before publishing. at page of your review you accidentally misquote my words placed by you within inverted commas, from my volume ii., page : i say that "man cannot endure any great change," and the omitted words "any great" make all the difference in the discussion. ( / . "mr. darwin tells us, and gives us excellent reasons for thinking, that 'the men of each race prefer what they are accustomed to behold; they cannot endure change.' yet is there not an inconsistency between this fact and the other that one race differs from another exactly because novelties presented themselves, and were eagerly seized and propagated?") permit me to add a few other remarks. i believe your criticism is quite just about my deficient historic spirit, for i am aware of my ignorance in this line. ( / . "in the historic spirit, however, mr. darwin must fairly be pronounced deficient. when, for instance, he speaks of the 'great sin of slavery' having been general among primitive nations, he forgets that, though to hold a slave would be a sinful degradation to a european to-day, the practice of turning prisoners of war into slaves, instead of butchering them, was not a sin at all, but marked a decided improvement in human manners.") on the other hand, if you should ever be led to read again chapter iii., and especially chapter v., i think you will find that i am not amenable to all your strictures; though i felt that i was walking on a path unknown to me and full of pitfalls; but i had the advantage of previous discussions by able men. i tried to say most emphatically that a great philosopher, law-giver, etc., did far more for the progress of mankind by his writings or his example than by leaving a numerous offspring. i have endeavoured to show how the struggle for existence between tribe and tribe depends on an advance in the moral and intellectual qualities of the members, and not merely on their capacity of obtaining food. when i speak of the necessity of a struggle for existence in order that mankind should advance still higher in the scale, i do not refer to the most, but "to the more highly gifted men" being successful in the battle for life; i referred to my supposition of the men in any country being divided into two equal bodies--viz., the more and the less highly gifted, and to the former on an average succeeding best. but i have much cause to apologise for the length of this ill-expressed letter. my sole excuse is the extraordinary interest which i have felt in your review, and the pleasure which i have experienced in observing the points which have attracted your attention. i must say one word more. having kept the subject of sexual selection in my mind for very many years, and having become more and more satisfied with it, i feel great confidence that as soon as the notion is rendered familiar to others, it will be accepted, at least to a much greater extent than at present. with sincere respect and thanks... letter . to john morley. down, april th [ ]. as this note requires no answer, i do not scruple to write a few lines to say how faithful and full a resume you have given of my notions on the moral sense in the "pall mall," and to make a few extenuating or explanatory remarks. ( / . "what is called the question of the moral sense is really two: how the moral faculty is acquired, and how it is regulated. why do we obey conscience or feel pain in disobeying it? and why does conscience prescribe one kind of action and condemn another kind? to put it more technically, there is the question of the subjective existence of conscience, and there is the question of its objective prescriptions. first, why do i think it obligatory to do my duty? second, why do i think it my duty to do this and not do that? although, however, the second question ought to be treated independently, for reasons which we shall presently suggest, the historical answer to it, or the various grounds on which men have identified certain sorts of conduct with duty, rather than conduct of the opposite sorts, throws light on the other question of the conditions of growth of the idea of duty as a sovereign and imperial director. mr. darwin seems to us not to have perfectly recognised the logical separation between the two sides of the moral sense question. for example, he says (i. ) that 'philosophers of the derivative school of morals formerly assumed that the foundation of morality lay in a form of selfishness; but more recently in the greatest happiness principle.' but mr. mill, to whom mr. darwin refers, has expressly shown that the greatest happiness principle is a standard, and not a foundation, and that its validity as a standard of right and wrong action is just as tenable by one who believes the moral sense to be innate, as by one who holds that it is acquired. he says distinctly that the social feelings of mankind form 'the natural basis of sentiment for utilitarian morality.' so far from holding the greatest happiness principle to be the foundation of morality, he would describe it as the forming principle of the superstructure of which the social feelings of mankind are the foundation. between mr. darwin and utilitarians, as utilitarians, there is no such quarrel as he would appear to suppose. the narrowest utilitarian could say little more than mr. darwin says (ii. ): 'as all men desire their own happiness, praise or blame is bestowed on actions and motives according as they tend to this end; and, as happiness is an essential part of the general good, the greatest happiness principle indirectly serves as a nearly safe standard of right and wrong.' it is perhaps not impertinent to suspect that the faltering adverbs which we have printed in italics indicate no more than the reluctance of a half-conscious convert to pure utilitarianism. in another place (i. ) he admits that 'as all wish for happiness, the greatest happiness principle will have become a most important secondary guide and object, the social instincts, including sympathy, always serving as the primary impulse and guide.' this is just what mr. mill says, only instead of calling the principle a secondary guide, he would call it a standard, to distinguish it from the social impulse, in which, as much as mr. darwin, he recognises the base and foundation."--"pall mall gazette," april th, .) how the mistake which i have made in speaking of greatest happiness as the foundation of morals arose, is utterly unintelligible to me: any time during the last several years i should have laughed such an idea to scorn. mr. lecky never made a greater blunder, and your kindness has made you let me off too easily. ( / . in the first edition of the "descent of man," i., page , mr. lecky is quoted as one of those who assumed that the "foundation of morality lay in a form of selfishness; but more recently in the 'greatest happiness' principle." mr. lecky's name is omitted in this connection in the second edition, page . in this edition mr. darwin makes it clearer that he attaches most importance to the social instinct as the "primary impulse and guide.") with respect to mr. mill, nothing would have pleased me more than to have relied on his great authority with respect to the social instincts, but the sentence which i quote at [volume i.] page ("if, as is my own belief, the moral feelings are not innate, but acquired, they are not for that reason less natural") seems to me somewhat contradictory with the other words which i quote, so that i did not know what to think; more especially as he says so very little about the social instincts. when i speak of intellectual activity as the secondary basis of conscience, i meant in my own mind secondary in period of development; but no one could be expected to understand so great an ellipse. with reference to your last sentence, do you not think that man might have retrograded in his parental, marriage, and other instincts without having retrograded in his social instincts? and i do not think that there is any evidence that man ever existed as a non-social animal. i must add that i have been very glad to read your remarks on the supposed case of the hive-bee: it affords an amusing contrast with what miss cobbe has written in the "theological review." ( / . mr. darwin says ("descent of man" edition i., volume i., page ; edition ii., page ), "that if men lived like bees our unmarried females would think it a sacred duty to kill their brothers." miss cobbe remarks on this "that the principles of social duty would be reversed" ("theological review," april ). mr. morley, on the other hand, says of darwin's assertion, that it is "as reassuring as the most absolute of moralists could desire. for it is tantamount to saying that the foundations of morality, the distinctions of right and wrong, are deeply laid in the very conditions of social existence; that there is in face of these conditions a positive and definite difference between the moral and the immoral, the virtuous and the vicious, the right and the wrong, in the actions of individuals partaking of that social existence.") undoubtedly the great principle of acting for the good of all the members of the same community, and therefore the good of the species, would still have held sovereign sway. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . sir joseph hooker wrote (august th, ) to darwin about lord kelvin's presidential address at the edinburgh meeting of the british association: "it seems to me to be very able indeed; and what a good notion it gives of the gigantic achievement of mathematicians and physicists!--it really made one giddy to read of them. i do not think huxley will thank him for his reference to him as a positive unbeliever in spontaneous generation--these mathematicians do not seem to me to distinguish between un-belief and a-belief. i know no other name for the state of mind that is produced under the term scepticism. i had no idea before that pure mathematics had achieved such wonders in practical science. the total absence of any allusion to tyndall's labours, even when comets are his theme, seems strange to me.") haredene, albury, guildford, august th [ ]. i have read with greatest interest thomson's address; but you say so exactly and fully all that i think, that you have taken all the words from my mouth; even about tyndall. it is a gain that so wonderful a man, though no naturalist, should become a convert to evolution; huxley, it seems, remarked in his speech to this effect. i should like to know what he means about design,--i cannot in the least understand, for i presume he does not believe in special interpositions. ( / . see "british association report," page cv. lord kelvin speaks very doubtfully of evolution. after quoting the concluding passage of the "origin," he goes on, "i have omitted two sentences...describing briefly the hypothesis of 'the origin of species by natural selection,' because i have always felt that this hypothesis does not contain the true theory of evolution, if evolution there has been in biology" (the italics are not in the original). lord kelvin then describes as a "most valuable and instructive criticism," sir john herschel's remark that the doctrine of natural selection is "too like the laputan method of making books, and that it did not sufficiently take into account a continually guiding and controlling intelligence." but it should be remembered that it was in this address of lord kelvin's that he suggested the possibility of "seed-bearing meteoric stones moving about through space" inoculating the earth with living organisms; and if he assumes that the whole population of the globe is to be traced back to these "moss-grown fragments from the ruins of another world," it is obvious that he believes in a form of evolution, and one in which a controlling intelligence is not very obvious, at all events not in the initial and all-important stage.) herschel's was a good sneer. it made me put in the simile about raphael's madonna, when describing in the "descent of man" the manner of formation of the wondrous ball-and-socket ornaments, and i will swear to the truth of this case. ( / . see "descent of man," ii., page . darwin says that no one will attribute the shading of the "eyes" on the wings of the argus pheasant to the "fortuitous concourse of atoms of colouring-matter." he goes on to say that the development of the ball-and-socket effect by means of natural selection seems at first as incredible as that "one of raphael's madonnas should have been formed by the selection of chance daubs of paint." the remark of herschel's, quoted in "life and letters," ii., page , that the "origin" illustrates the "law of higgledy-piggledy," is probably a conversational variant of the laputan comparison which gave rise to the passage in the "descent of man" (see letter ).) you know the oak-leaved variety of the common honeysuckle; i could not persuade a lady that this was not the result of the honeysuckle climbing up a young oak tree! is this not like the viola case? letter . to john lubbock (lord avebury). haredene, albury, guildford, august th [ ]. i hope the proof-sheets having been sent here will not inconvenience you. i have read them with infinite satisfaction, and the whole discussion strikes me as admirable. i have no books here, and wish much i could see a plate of campodea. ( / . "on the origin of insects." by sir john lubbock, bart. "journ. linn. soc. (zoology)," volume xi., , pages - . (read november nd, .) in the concluding paragraph the author writes, "if these views are correct the genus campodea [a beetle] must be regarded as a form of remarkable interest, since it is the living representative of a primaeval type from which not only the collembola and thysanura, but the other great orders of insects, have all derived their origin." (see also "brit. assoc. report," , page --address by sir john lubbock; and for a figure of campodea see "nature," volume vii., , page .) i never reflected much on the difficulty which you indicate, and on which you throw so much light. ( / . the difficulty alluded to is explained by the first sentence of lord avebury's paper. "the metamorphoses of this group (insects) have always seemed to me one of the greatest difficulties of the darwinian theory...i feel great difficulty in conceiving by what natural process an insect with a suctorial mouth, like that of a gnat or butterfly, could be developed from a powerfully mandibulate type like the orthoptera, or even from the neuroptera...a clue to the difficulty may, i think, be found in the distinction between the developmental and adaptive changes to which i called the attention of the society in a previous memoir." the distinction between developmental and adaptive changes is mentioned, but not discussed, in the paper "on the origin of insects" (loc. cit., page ); in a former paper, "on the development of chloeon (ephemera) dimidiatum ("trans. linn. soc." xxv. page , ), this question is dealt with at length.) i have only a few trifling remarks to make. at page i wish you had enlarged a little on what you have said of the distinction between developmental and adaptive changes; for i cannot quite remember the point, and others will perhaps be in the same predicament. i think i always saw that the larva and the adult might be separately modified to any extent. bearing in mind what strange changes of function parts undergo, with the intermediate state of use ( / . this slightly obscure phrase may be paraphrased, "the gradational stages being of service to the organism."), it seems to me that you speak rather too boldly on the impossibility of a mandibulate insect being converted into a sucking insect ( / . "there are, however, peculiar difficulties in those cases in which, as among the lepidoptera, the same species is mandibulate as a larva and suctorial as an embryo" (lubbock, "origin of insects," page ).); not that i in the least doubt the value of your explanation. cirripedes passing through what i have called a pupal state ( / . "hence, the larva in this, its last stage, cannot eat; it may be called a "locomotive pupa;" its whole organisation is apparently adapted for the one great end of finding a proper site for its attachment and final metamorphosis." ("a monograph on the sub-class cirripedia." by charles darwin. london, ray soc., .)) so far as their mouths are concerned, rather supports what you say at page . at page your remarks on the argus pheasant ( / . there is no mention of the argus pheasant in the published paper.) (though i have not the least objection to them) do not seem to me very appropriate as being related to the mental faculties. if you can spare me these proof-sheets when done with, i shall be obliged, as i shall be correcting a new edition of the "origin" when i return home, though this subject is too large for me to enter on. i thank you sincerely for the great interest which your discussion has given me. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter refers to mivart's "genesis of species.") down, september th [ ]. i am preparing a new and cheap edition of the "origin," and shall introduce a new chapter on gradation, and on the uses of initial commencements of useful structures; for this, i observe, has produced the greatest effect on most persons. every one of his [mivart's] cases, as it seems to me, can be answered in a fairly satisfactory manner. he is very unfair, and never says what he must have known could be said on my side. he ignores the effect of use, and what i have said in all my later books and editions on the direct effects of the conditions of life and so-called spontaneous variation. i send you by this post a very clever, but ill-written review from n. america by a friend of asa gray, which i have republished. ( / . chauncey wright in the "north american review," volume cxiii., reprinted by darwin and published as a pamphlet (see "life and letters," iii., page ).) i am glad to hear about huxley. you never read such strong letters mivart wrote to me about respect towards me, begging that i would call on him, etc., etc.; yet in the "q. review" ( / . see "quarterly review," july ; also "life and letters," iii., page .) he shows the greatest scorn and animosity towards me, and with uncommon cleverness says all that is most disagreeable. he makes me the most arrogant, odious beast that ever lived. i cannot understand him; i suppose that accursed religious bigotry is at the root of it. of course he is quite at liberty to scorn and hate me, but why take such trouble to express something more than friendship? it has mortified me a good deal. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october th [ ]. i am quite delighted that you think so highly of huxley's article. ( / . a review of wallace's "natural selection," of mivart's "genesis of species," and of the "quarterly review" article on the "descent of man" (july, ), published in the "contemporary review" ( ), and in huxley's "collected essays," ii., page .) i was afraid of saying all i thought about it, as nothing is so likely as to make anything appear flat. i thought of, and quite agreed with, your former saying that huxley makes one feel quite infantile in intellect. he always thus acts on me. i exactly agree with what you say on the several points in the article, and i piled climax on climax of admiration in my letter to him. i am not so good a christian as you think me, for i did enjoy my revenge on mivart. he (i.e. mivart) has just written to me as cool as a cucumber, hoping my health is better, etc. my head, by the way, plagues me terribly, and i have it light and rocking half the day. farewell, dear old friend--my best of friends. letter . to john fiske. ( / . mr. fiske, who is perhaps best known in england as the author of "outlines of cosmic philosophy," had sent to mr. darwin some reports of the lectures given at harvard university. the point referred to in the postscript in mr. darwin's letter is explained by the following extract from mr. fiske's work: "i have endeavoured to show that the transition from animality (or bestiality, stripping the word of its bad connotations) to humanity must have been mainly determined by the prolongation of infancy or immaturity which is consequent upon a high development of intelligence, and which must have necessitated the gradual grouping together of pithecoid men into more or less definite families." (see "descent," i., page , on the prolonged infancy of the anthropoid apes.)) down, november th, . i am greatly obliged to you for having sent me, through my son, your lectures, and for the very honourable manner in which you allude to my works. the lectures seem to me to be written with much force, clearness, and originality. you show also a truly extraordinary amount of knowledge of all that has been published on the subject. the type in many parts is so small that, except to young eyes, it is very difficult to read. therefore i wish that you would reflect on their separate publication, though so much has been published on the subject that the public may possibly have had enough. i hope that this may be your intention, for i do not think i have ever seen the general argument more forcibly put so as to convert unbelievers. it has surprised and pleased me to see that you and others have detected the falseness of much of mr. mivart's reasoning. i wish i had read your lectures a month or two ago, as i have been preparing a new edition of the "origin," in which i answer some special points, and i believe i should have found your lectures useful; but my ms. is now in the printer's hands, and i have not strength or time to make any more additions. p.s.--by an odd coincidence, since the above was written i have received your very obliging letter of october rd. i did notice the point to which you refer, and will hereafter reflect more over it. i was indeed on the point of putting in a sentence to somewhat of the same effect in the new edition of the "origin," in relation to the query--why have not apes advanced in intellect as much as man? but i omitted it on account of the asserted prolonged infancy of the orang. i am also a little doubtful about the distinction between gregariousness and sociability. ...when you come to england i shall have much pleasure in making your acquaintance; but my health is habitually so weak that i have very small power of conversing with my friends as much as i wish. let me again thank you for your letter. to believe that i have at all influenced the minds of able men is the greatest satisfaction i am capable of receiving. letter . to e. hackel. down, december th, . i thank you for your very interesting letter, which it has given me much pleasure to receive. i never heard of anything so odd as the prior in the holy catholic church believing in our ape-like progenitors. i much hope that the jesuits will not dislodge him. what a wonderfully active man you are! and i rejoice that you have been so successful in your work on sponges. ( / . "die kalkschwamme: eine monographie; volumes: berlin, . h.j. clark published a paper "on the spongiae ciliatae as infusoria flagellata" in the "mem. boston nat. hist. soc." volume i., part iii., . see hackel, op. cit., volume i., page .) your book with sixty plates will be magnificent. i shall be glad to learn what you think of clark's view of sponges being flagellate infusorians; some observers in this country believe in him. i am glad you are going fully to consider inheritance, which is an all-important subject for us. i do not know whether you have ever read my chapter on pangenesis. my ideas have been almost universally despised, and i suppose that i was foolish to publish them; yet i must still think that there is some truth in them. anyhow, they have aided me much in making me clearly understand the facts of inheritance. i have had bad health this last summer, and during two months was able to do nothing; but i have now almost finished a next edition of the "origin," which victor carus is translating. ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page .) there is not much new in it, except one chapter in which i have answered, i hope satisfactorily, mr. mivart's supposed difficulty on the incipient development of useful structures. i have also given my reasons for quite disbelieving in great and sudden modifications. i am preparing an essay on expression in man and the lower animals. it has little importance, but has interested me. i doubt whether my strength will last for much more serious work. i hope, however, to publish next summer the results of my long-continued experiments on the wonderful advantages derived from crossing. i shall continue to work as long as i can, but it does not much signify when i stop, as there are so many good men fully as capable, perhaps more capable, than myself of carrying on our work; and of these you rank as the first. with cordial good wishes for your success in all your work and for your happiness. letter . to e. ray lankester. down, april th [ ]. very many thanks for your kind consideration. the correspondence was in the "athenaeum." i got some mathematician to make the calculation, and he blundered and caused me much shame. i send scrap of proofs from last edition of the "origin," with the calculation corrected. what grand work you did at naples! i can clearly see that you will some day become our first star in natural history. ( / . here follows the extract from the "origin," sixth edition, page : "the elephant is reckoned the slowest breeder of all known animals, and i have taken some pains to estimate its probable minimum rate of natural increase. it will be safest to assume that it begins breeding when thirty years old, and goes on breeding till ninety years old, bringing forth six young in the interval, and surviving till one hundred years old; if this be so, after a period of from to years, there would be nearly nineteen million elephants alive, descended from the first pair." in the fifth edition, page , the passage runs: "if this be so, at the end of the fifth century, there would be alive fifteen million elephants, descended from the first pair" (see "athenaeum," june , july , , , ).) letter . to c. lyell. down, may th [ ]. i received yesterday morning your present of that work to which i, for one, as well as so many others, owe a debt of gratitude never to be forgotten. i have read with the greatest interest all the special additions; and i wish with all my heart that i had the strength and time to read again every word of the whole book. ( / . "principles of geology," edition xii., .) i do not agree with all your criticisms on natural selection, nor do i suppose that you would expect me to do so. we must be content to differ on several points. i differ must about your difficulty (page ) ( / . in chapter xliii. lyell treats of "man considered with reference to his origin and geographical distribution." he criticizes the view that natural selection is capable of bringing about any amount of change provided a series of minute transitional steps can be pointed out. "but in reality," he writes, "it cannot be said that we obtain any insight into the nature of the forces by which a higher grade of organisation or instinct is evolved out of a lower one by becoming acquainted with a series of gradational forms or states, each having a very close affinity with the other."..."it is when there is a change from an inferior being to one of superior grade, from a humbler organism to one endowed with new and more exalted attributes, that we are made to feel that, to explain the difficulty, we must obtain some knowledge of those laws of variation of which mr. darwin grants that we are at present profoundly ignorant" (op. cit., pages - ).) on a higher grade of organisation being evolved out of lower ones. is not a very clever man a grade above a very dull one? and would not the accumulation of a large number of slight differences of this kind lead to a great difference in the grade of organisation? and i suppose that you will admit that the difference in the brain of a clever and dull man is not much more wonderful than the difference in the length of the nose of any two men. of course, there remains the impossibility of explaining at present why one man has a longer nose than another. but it is foolish of me to trouble you with these remarks, which have probably often passed through your mind. the end of this chapter (xliii.) strikes me as admirably and grandly written. i wish you joy at having completed your gigantic undertaking, and remain, my dear lyell, your ever faithful and now very old pupil, charles darwin. letter . to j. traherne moggridge. sevenoaks, october th [ ]. i have just received your note, forwarded to me from my home. i thank you very truly for your intended present, and i am sure that your book will interest me greatly. i am delighted that you have taken up the very difficult and most interesting subject of the habits of insects, on which englishmen have done so little. how incomparably more valuable are such researches than the mere description of a thousand species! i daresay you have thought of experimenting on the mental powers of the spiders by fixing their trap-doors open in different ways and at different angles, and observing what they will do. we have been here some days, and intend staying some weeks; for i was quite worn out with work, and cannot be idle at home. i sincerely hope that your health is not worse. letter . to a. hyatt. ( / . the correspondence with professor hyatt, of boston, u.s., originated in the reference to his and professor cope's theories of acceleration and retardation, inserted in the sixth edition of the "origin," page . mr. darwin, on receiving from mr. hyatt a copy of his "fossil cephalopods of the museum of comparative zoology. embryology," from the "bull. mus. comp. zool." harvard, volume iii., , wrote as follows ( / . part of this letter was published in "life and letters," iii., page .):--) october th, . i am very much obliged to you for your kindness in having sent me your valuable memoir on the embryology of the extinct cephalopods. the work must have been one of immense labour, and the results are extremely interesting. permit me to take this opportunity to express my sincere regret at having committed two grave errors in the last edition of my "origin of species," in my allusion to yours and professor cope's views on acceleration and retardation of development. i had thought that professor cope had preceded you; but i now well remember having formerly read with lively interest, and marked, a paper by you somewhere in my library, on fossil cephalopods, with remarks on the subject. ( / . the paper seems to be "on the parallelism between the different stages of life in the individual and those in the entire group of the molluscous order tetrabranchiata," from the "boston. soc. nat. hist. mem." i., - , page . on the back of the paper is written, "i cannot avoid thinking this paper fanciful.") it seems also that i have quite misrepresented your joint view; this has vexed me much. i confess that i have never been able to grasp fully what you wish to show, and i presume that this must be owing to some dulness on my part...as the case stands, the law of acceleration and retardation seems to me to be a simple [?] statement of facts; but the statement, if fully established, would no doubt be an important step in our knowledge. but i had better say nothing more on the subject, otherwise i shall perhaps blunder again. i assure you that i regret much that i have fallen into two such grave errors. letter . a. hyatt to charles darwin. ( / . mr. hyatt replied in a long letter, of which only a small part is here given. cannstadt bei stuttgart, november . the letter with which you have honoured me, bearing the date of october th, has just reached here after a voyage to america and back. i have long had it in mind to write you upon the subject of which you speak, but have been prevented by a very natural feeling of distrust in the worthiness and truth of the views which i had to present. there is certainly no occasion to apologise for not having quoted my paper. the law of acceleration and retardation of development was therein used to explain the appearance of other phenomena, and might, as it did in nearly all cases, easily escape notice. my relations with prof. cope are of the most friendly character; and although fortunate in publishing a few months ahead, i consider that this gives me no right to claim anything beyond such an amount of participation in the discovery, if it may be so called, as the thoroughness and worth of my work entitles me to... the collections which i have studied, it will be remembered, are fossils collected without special reference to the very minute subdivisions, such as the subdivisions of the lower or middle lias as made by the german authors, especially quenstedt and oppel, but pretty well defined for the larger divisions in which the species are also well defined. the condition of the collections as regards names, etc., was chaotic, localities alone, with some few exceptions, accurate. to put this in order they were first arranged according to their adult characteristics. this proving unsatisfactory, i determined to test thoroughly the theory of evolution by following out the developmental history of each species and placing them within their formations, middle or upper lias, oolite or so, according to the extent to which they represented each other's characteristics. thus an adult of simple structure being taken as the starting-point which we will call a, another species which was a in its young stage and became b in the adult was placed above it in the zoological series. by this process i presently found that a, then a b and a b c, c representing the adult stage, were very often found; but that practically after passing these two or three stages it did not often happen that a species was found which was a b c in the young and then became d in the adult. but on the other hand i very frequently found one which, while it was a in the young, skipped the stages b and c and became d while still quite young. then sometimes, though more rarely, a species would be found belonging to the same series, which would be a in the young and with a very faint and fleeting resemblance to d at a later stage, pass immediately while still quite young to the more advanced characteristics represented by e, and hold these as its specific characteristics until old age destroyed them. this skipping is the highest exemplification, or rather manifestation, of acceleration in development. in alluding to the history of diseases and inheritance of characteristics, you in your "origin of species" allude to the ordinary manifestation of acceleration, when you speak of the tendency of diseases or characteristics to appear at younger periods in the life of the child than of its parents. this, according to my observations, is a law, or rather mode, of development, which is applicable to all characteristics, and in this way it is possible to explain why the young of later-occurring animals are like the adult stages of those which preceded them in time. if i am not mistaken you have intimated something of this sort also in your first edition, but i have not been able to find it lately. of course this is a very normal condition of affairs when a series can be followed in this way, beginning with species a, then going through species a b to a b c, then a b d or a c d, and then a d e or simply a e, as it sometimes comes. very often the acceleration takes place in two closely connected series, thus: a--ab--abd--ae---ad in which one series goes on very regularly, while another lateral offshoot of a becomes d in the adult. this is an actual case which can be plainly shown with the specimens in hand, and has been verified in the collections here. retardation is entirely prof. cope's idea, but i think also easily traceable. it is the opponent of acceleration, so to speak, or the opposite or negative of that mode of development. thus series may occur in which, either in size or characteristics, they return to former characteristics; but a better discussion of this point you will find in the little treatise which i send by the same mail as this letter, "on reversions among the ammonites." letter . to a. hyatt. down, december th, . i thank you sincerely for your most interesting letter. you refer much too modestly to your own knowledge and judgment, as you are much better fitted to throw light on your own difficult problems than i am. it has quite annoyed me that i do not clearly understand yours and prof. cope's views ( / . prof. cope's views may be gathered from his "origin of the fittest" ; in this book (page ) is reprinted his "origin of genera" from the "proc. philadelph. acad. nat. soc." , which was published separately by the author in , and which we believe to be his first publication on the subject. in the preface to the "origin of the fittest," page vi, he sums up the chief points in the "origin of genera" under seven heads, of which the following are the most important:--"first, that development of new characters has been accomplished by an acceleration or retardation in the growth of the parts changed...second, that of exact parallelism between the adult of one individual or set of individuals, and a transitional stage of one or more other individuals. this doctrine is distinct from that of an exact parallelism, which had already been stated by von baer." the last point is less definitely stated by hyatt in his letter of december th, . "i am thus perpetually led to look upon a series very much as upon an individual, and think that i have found that in many instances these afford parallel changes." see also "lamarck the founder of evolution, by a.s. packard: new york, .) and the fault lies in some slight degree, i think, with prof. cope, who does not write very clearly. i think i now understand the terms "acceleration" and "retardation"; but will you grudge the trouble of telling me, by the aid of the following illustration, whether i do understand rightly? when a fresh-water decapod crustacean is born with an almost mature structure, and therefore does not pass, like other decapods, through the zoea stage, is this not a case of acceleration? again, if an imaginary decapod retained, when adult, many zoea characters, would this not be a case of retardation? if these illustrations are correct, i can perceive why i have been so dull in understanding your views. i looked for something else, being familiar with such cases, and classing them in my own mind as simply due to the obliteration of certain larval or embryonic stages. this obliteration i imagined resulted sometimes entirely from that law of inheritance to which you allude; but that it in many cases was aided by natural selection, as i inferred from such cases occurring so frequently in terrestrial and fresh-water members of groups, which retain their several embryonic stages in the sea, as long as fitting conditions are present. another cause of my misunderstanding was the assumption that in your series a--ab--abd--ae,--------ad the differences between the successive species, expressed by the terminal letter, was due to acceleration: now, if i understand rightly, this is not the case; and such characters must have been independently acquired by some means. the two newest and most interesting points in your letter (and in, as far as i think, your former paper) seem to me to be about senile characteristics in one species appearing in succeeding species during maturity; and secondly about certain degraded characters appearing in the last species of a series. you ask for my opinion: i can only send the conjectured impressions which have occurred to me and which are not worth writing. (it ought to be known whether the senile character appears before or after the period of active reproduction.) i should be inclined to attribute the character in both your cases to the laws of growth and descent, secondarily to natural selection. it has been an error on my part, and a misfortune to me, that i did not largely discuss what i mean by laws of growth at an early period in some of my books. i have said something on this head in two new chapters in the last edition of the "origin." i should be happy to send you a copy of this edition, if you do not possess it and care to have it. a man in extreme old age differs much from a young man, and i presume every one would account for this by failing powers of growth. on the other hand the skulls of some mammals go on altering during maturity into advancing years; as do the horns of the stag, the tail-feathers of some birds, the size of fishes etc.; and all such differences i should attribute simply to the laws of growth, as long as full vigour was retained. endless other changes of structure in successive species may, i believe, be accounted for by various complex laws of growth. now, any change of character thus induced with advancing years in the individual might easily be inherited at an earlier age than that at which it first supervened, and thus become characteristic of the mature species; or again, such changes would be apt to follow from variation, independently of inheritance, under proper conditions. therefore i should expect that characters of this kind would often appear in later-formed species without the aid of natural selection, or with its aid if the characters were of any advantage. the longer i live, the more i become convinced how ignorant we are of the extent to which all sorts of structures are serviceable to each species. but that characters supervening during maturity in one species should appear so regularly, as you state to be the case, in succeeding species, seems to me very surprising and inexplicable. with respect to degradation in species towards the close of a series, i have nothing to say, except that before i arrived at the end of your letter, it occurred to me that the earlier and simpler ammonites must have been well adapted to their conditions, and that when the species were verging towards extinction (owing probably to the presence of some more successful competitors) they would naturally become re-adapted to simpler conditions. before i had read your final remarks i thought also that unfavourable conditions might cause, through the law of growth, aided perhaps by reversion, degradation of character. no doubt many new laws remain to be discovered. permit me to add that i have never been so foolish as to imagine that i have succeeded in doing more than to lay down some of the broad outlines of the origin of species. after long reflection i cannot avoid the conviction that no innate tendency to progressive development exists, as is now held by so many able naturalists, and perhaps by yourself. it is curious how seldom writers define what they mean by progressive development; but this is a point which i have briefly discussed in the "origin." i earnestly hope that you may visit hilgendorf's famous deposit. have you seen weismann's pamphlet "einfluss der isolirung," leipzig, ? he makes splendid use of hilgendorf's admirable observations. ( / . hilgendorf, "monatsb. k. akad." berlin, . for a semi-popular account of hilgendorf's and hyatt's work on this subject, see romanes' "darwin and after darwin," i., page .) i have no strength to spare, being much out of health; otherwise i would have endeavoured to have made this letter better worth sending. i most sincerely wish you success in your valuable and difficult researches. i have received, and thank you, for your three pamphlets. as far as i can judge, your views seem very probable; but what a fearfully intricate subject is this of the succession of ammonites. ( / . see various papers in the publications of the "boston soc. nat. hist." and in the "bulletin of the harvard museum of comp. zoology.") letter . a. hyatt to charles darwin. cannstadt bei stuttgart, december th, . the quickness and earnestness of your reply to my letter gives me the greatest encouragement, and i am much delighted at the unexpected interest which your questions and comments display. what you say about prof. cope's style has been often before said to me, and i have remarked in his writings an unsatisfactory treatment of our common theory. this, i think, perhaps is largely due to the complete absorption of his mind in the contemplation of his subject: this seems to lead him to be careless about the methods in which it may be best explained. he has, however, a more extended knowledge than i have, and has in many ways a more powerful grasp of the subject, and for that very reason, perhaps, is liable to run into extremes. you ask about the skipping of the zoea stage in fresh-water decapods: is this an illustration of acceleration? it most assuredly is, if acceleration means anything at all. again, another and more general illustration would be, if, among the marine decapods, a series could be formed in which the zoea stage became less and less important in the development, and was relegated to younger and younger stages of the development, and finally disappeared in those to which you refer. this is the usual way in which the accelerated mode of development manifests itself; though near the lowest or earliest occurring species it is also to be looked for. perhaps this to which you allude is an illustration somewhat similar to the one which i have spoken of in my series, a--ab--abc--ae--------ad, which like "a d" comes from the earliest of a series, though i should think from the entire skipping of the zoea stage that it must be, like "a e," the result of a long line of ancestors. in fact, the essential point of our theory is, that characteristics are ever inherited by the young at earlier periods than they are assumed in due course of growth by the parents, and that this must eventually lead to the extinction or skipping of these characteristics altogether... such considerations as these and the fact that near the heads of series or near the latest members of series, and not at the beginning, were usually found the accelerated types, which skipped lower characteristics and developed very suddenly to a higher and more complex standpoint in structure, led both cope and [myself] into what may be a great error. i see that it has led you at least into the difficulty of which you very rightly complain, and which, i am sorry to see, has cost you some of your valuable time. we presumed that because characteristics were perpetually inherited at earlier stages, that this very concentration of the developed characteristics made room for the production of differences in the adult descendants of any given pair. further, that in the room thus made other different characteristics must be produced, and that these would necessarily appear earlier in proportion as the species was more or less accelerated, and be greater or less in the same proportion. finally, that in the most accelerated, such as "a c" or "a d," the difference would be so great as to constitute distinct genera. cope and i have differed very much, while he acknowledged the action of the accumulated mode of development only when generic characteristics or greater differences were produced, i saw the same mode of development to be applicable in all cases and to all characteristics, even to diseases. so far the facts bore us out, but when we assumed that the adult differences were the result of the accelerated mode of development, we were perhaps upon rather insecure ground. it is evidently this assumption which has led you to misunderstand the theory. cope founded his belief, that the adult characteristics were also the result of acceleration, if i rightly remember it, mainly upon the class of facts spoken of above in man where a sudden change into two organs may produce entirely new and unexpected differences in the whole organisation, and upon the changes which acceleration appeared to produce in the development of each succeeding species. your difficulty in understanding the theory and the observations you have made show me at once what my own difficulties have been, but of these i will not speak at present, as my letter is spinning itself out to a fearful length. ( / . after speaking of cope's comparison of acceleration and retardation in evolution to the force of gravity in physical matters mr. hyatt goes on:--) now it [acceleration] seems to me to explain less and less the origin of adult progressive characteristics or simply differences, and perhaps now i shall get on faster with my work. letter . to a. hyatt. down, december th [ ]. ( / . in reply to the above letter ( ) from mr. hyatt.) notwithstanding the kind consideration shown in your last sentence, i must thank you for your interesting and clearly expressed letter. i have directed my publisher to send you a copy of the last edition of the "origin," and you can, if you like, paste in the "from the author" on next page. in relation to yours and professor cope's view on "acceleration" causing a development of new characters, it would, i think, be well if you were to compare the decapods which pass and do not pass through the zoea stage, and the one group which does (according to fritz muller) pass through to the still earlier nauplius stages, and see if they present any marked differences. you will, i believe, find that this is not the case. i wish it were, for i have often been perplexed at the omission of embryonic stages as well as the acquirement of peculiar stages appearing to produce no special result in the mature form. ( / . the remainder of this letter is missing, and the whole of the last sentence is somewhat uncertainly deciphered. (note by mr. hyatt.)) letter . to a. hyatt. down, february th, . i thank you for your very kind, long, and interesting letter. the case is so wonderful and difficult that i dare not express any opinion on it. of course, i regret that hilgendorf has been proved to be so greatly in error ( / . this refers to a controversy with sandberger, who had attacked hilgendorf in the "verh. der phys.-med. ges. zu wurzburg," bd. v., and in the "jahrb. der malakol. ges." bd. i., to which hilgendorf replied in the "zeitschr. d. deutschen geolog. ges." jahrb. . hyatt's name occurs in hilgendorf's pages, but we find no reference to any paper of this date; his well-known paper is in the "boston. soc. nat. hist." . in a letter to darwin (may rd, ) hyatt regrets that he had no opportunity of a third visit to steinheim, and goes on: "i should then have done greater justice to hilgendorf, for whom i have such a high respect."), but it is some selfish comfort to me that i always felt so much misgiving that i never quoted his paper. ( / . in the fifth edition of the "origin" (page ), however, darwin speaks of the graduated forms of planorbis multiformis, described by hilgendorf from certain beds in switzerland, by which we presume he meant the steinheim beds in wurtemberg.) the variability of these shells is quite astonishing, and seems to exceed that of rubus or hieracium amongst plants. the result which surprises me most is that the same form should be developed from various and different progenitors. this seems to show how potent are the conditions of life, irrespectively of the variations being in any way beneficial. the production of a species out of a chaos of varying forms reminds me of nageli's conclusion, as deduced from the study of hieracium, that this is the common mode in which species arise. but i still continue to doubt much on this head, and cling to the belief expressed in the first edition of the "origin," that protean or polymorphic species are those which are now varying in such a manner that the variations are neither advantageous nor disadvantageous. i am glad to hear of the brunswick deposit, as i feel sure that the careful study of such cases is highly important. i hope that the smithsonian institution will publish your memoir. letter . to a. de candolle. down, january th [ ]. it was very good of you to give up so much of your time to write to me your last interesting letter. the evidence seems good about the tameness of the alpine butterflies, and the fact seems to me very surprising, for each butterfly can hardly have acquired its experience during its own short life. will you be so good as to thank m. humbert for his note, which i have been glad to read. i formerly received from a man, not a naturalist, staying at cannes a similar account, but doubted about believing it. the case, however, does not answer my query--viz., whether butterflies are attracted by bright colours, independently of the supposed presence of nectar? i must own that i have great difficulty in believing that any temporary condition of the parents can affect the offspring. if it last long enough to affect the health or structure of the parents, i can quite believe the offspring would be modified. but how mysterious a subject is that of generation! although my hypothesis of pangenesis has been reviled on all sides, yet i must still look at generation under this point of view; and it makes me very averse to believe in an emotion having any effect on the offspring. allow me to add one word about blushing and shyness: i intended only to say the habit was primordially acquired by attention to the face, and not that each shy man now attended to his personal appearance. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, june th, . i write a line to wish you good-bye, as i hear you are off on wednesday, and to thank you for the dionoea, but i cannot make the little creature grow well. i have this day read bentham's last address, and must express my admiration of it. ( / . presidential address to the linnean society, read may th, .) perhaps i ought not to do so, as he fairly crushes me with honour. i am delighted to see how exactly i agree with him on affinities, and especially on extinct forms as illustrated by his flat-topped tree. ( / . see page of separate copy: "we should then have the present races represented by the countless branchlets forming the flat-topped summit" of a genealogical tree, in which "all we can do is to map out the summit as it were from a bird's-eye view, and under each cluster, or cluster of clusters, to place as the common trunk an imaginary type of a genus, order, or class according to the depth to which we would go.") my recent work leads me to differ from him on one point--viz., on the separation of the sexes. ( / . on the question of sexuality, see page of bentham's address. on the back of mr. darwin's copy he has written: "as long as lowest organisms free--sexes separated: as soon as they become attached, to prevent sterility sexes united--reseparated as means of fertilisation, adapted [?] for distant [?] organisms,--in the case of animals by their senses and voluntary movements,--with plants the aid of insects and wind, the latter always existed, and long retained." the two words marked [?] are doubtful. the introduction of freedom or attachedness, as a factor in the problem also occurs in "cross and self-fertilisation," page . i strongly suspect that sexes were primordially in distinct individuals; then became commonly united in the same individual, and then in a host of animals and some few plants became again separated. do ask bentham to send a copy of his address to "dr. h. muller, lippstadt, prussia," as i am sure it will please him greatly. ...when in france write me a line and tell me how you get on, and how huxley is; but do not do so if you feel idle, and writing bothers you. letter . to r. meldola. ( / . this letter, with others from darwin to meldola, is published in "charles darwin and the theory of natural selection," by e.b. poulton, pages et seq., london, .) southampton, august th, . i am much obliged for your present, which no doubt i shall find at down on my return home. i am sorry to say that i cannot answer your question; nor do i believe that you could find it anywhere even approximately answered. it is very difficult or impossible to define what is meant by a large variation. such graduate into monstrosities or generally injurious variations. i do not myself believe that these are often or ever taken advantage of under nature. it is a common occurrence that abrupt and considerable variations are transmitted in an unaltered state, or not at all transmitted, to the offspring, or to some of them. so it is with tailless or hornless animals, and with sudden and great changes of colour in flowers. i wish i could have given you any answer. letter . to e.s. morse. [undated.] i must have the pleasure of thanking you for your kindness in sending me your essay on the brachiopoda. ( / . "the brachiopoda, a division of annelida," "amer. assoc. proc." volume xix., page , , and "annals and mag. nat. hist." volume vi., page , .) i have just read it with the greatest interest, and you seem to me (though i am not a competent judge) to make out with remarkable clearness an extremely strong case. what a wonderful change it is to an old naturalist to have to look at these "shells" as "worms"; but, as you truly say, as far as external appearance is concerned, the case is not more wonderful than that of cirripedes. i have also been particularly interested by your remarks on the geological record, and on the lower and older forms in each great class not having been probably protected by calcareous valves or a shell. p.s.--your woodcut of lingula is most skilfully introduced to compel one to see its likeness to an annelid. letter . to h. spencer. ( / . mr. spencer's book "the study of sociology," , was published in the "contemporary review" in instalments between may and october .) october st [ ]. i am glad to receive to-day an advertisement of your book. i have been wonderfully interested by the articles in the "contemporary." those were splendid hits about the prince of wales and gladstone. ( / . see "the study of sociology," page . mr. gladstone, in protest against some words of mr. spencer, had said that the appearance of great men "in great crises of human history" were events so striking "that men would be liable to term them providential in a pre-scientific age." on this mr. spencer remarks that "in common with the ancient greek mr. gladstone regards as irreligious any explanation of nature which dispenses with immediate divine superintendence." and as an instance of the partnership "between the ideas of natural causation and of providential interference," he instances a case where a prince "gained popularity by outliving certain abnormal changes in his blood," and where "on the occasion of his recovery providential aid and natural causation were unitedly recognised by a thanksgiving to god and a baronetcy to the doctor." the passage on toryism is on page , where mr. spencer, with his accustomed tolerance, writes: "the desirable thing is that a growth of ideas and feelings tending to produce modification shall be joined with a continuance of ideas and feelings tending to preserve stability." and from this point of view he concludes it to be very desirable that "one in mr. gladstone's position should think as he does." the matter is further discussed in the notes to chapter xvi., page .) i never before read a good defence of toryism. in one place (but i cannot for the life of me recollect where or what it exactly was) i thought that you would have profited by my principle (i.e. if you do not reject it) given in my "descent of man," that new characters which appear late in life are those which are transmitted to the same sex alone. i have advanced some pretty strong evidence, and the principle is of great importance in relation to secondary sexual likenesses. ( / . this refers to mr. spencer's discussion of the evolution of the mental traits characteristic of women. at page he points out the importance of the limitation of heredity by sex in this relation. a striking generalisation on this question is given in the "descent of man," edition i., volume ii., page : that when the adult male differs from the adult female, he differs in the same way from the young of both sexes. can this law be applied in the case in which the adult female possesses characters not possessed by the male: for instance, the high degree of intuitive power of reading the mental states of others and of concealing her own--characters which mr. spencer shows to be accounted for by the relations between the husband and wife in a state of savagery. if so, the man should resemble "the young of both sexes" in the absence of these special qualities. this seems to be the case with some masculine characteristics, and childishness of man is not without recognition among women: for instance, by dolly winthrop in "silas marner," who is content with bread for herself, but bakes cake for children and men, whose "stomichs are made so comical, they want a change--they do, i know, god help 'em.") i have applied it to man and woman, and possibly it was here that i thought that you would have profited by the doctrine. i fear that this note will be almost illegible, but i am very tired. letter . g.j. romanes to charles darwin. ( / . this is, we believe, the first letter addressed by the late mr. romanes to mr. darwin. it was put away with another on the same subject, and inscribed "romanes on abortion, with my answer (very important)." mr. darwin's answer given below is printed from his rough draft, which is in places barely decipherable. on the subject of these letters consult romanes, "darwin and after darwin," volume ii., page , .) dunskaith, parkhill, ross-shire, july th, . knowing that you do not dissuade the more attentive of your readers from communicating directly to yourself any ideas they may have upon subjects connected with your writings, i take the liberty of sending the enclosed copy of a letter, which i have recently addressed to mr. herbert spencer. you will perceive that the subject dealt with is the same as that to which a letter of mine in last week's "nature" [july nd, page ] refers--viz., "disuse as a reducing cause in species." in submitting this more detailed exposition of my views to your consideration, i should like to state again what i stated in "nature" some weeks ago, viz., that in propounding the cessation of selection as a reducing cause, i do not suppose that i am suggesting anything which has not occurred to you already. not only is this principle embodied in the theory set forth in the article on rudimentary organs ("nature," volume ix.); but it is more than once hinted at in the "origin," in the passages where rudimentary organs are said to be more variable than others, because no longer under the restraining influence of natural selection. and still more distinctly is this principle recognised in page . thus, in sending you the enclosed letter, i do not imagine that i am bringing any novel suggestions under your notice. as i see that you have already applied the principle in question to the case of artificially-bred structures, i cannot but infer that you have pondered it in connection with naturally-bred structures. what objection, however, you can have seen to this principle in this latter connection, i am unable to divine; and so i think the best course for me to pursue is the one i adopt--viz., to send you my considerations in full. in the absence of express information, the most natural inference is that the reason you refuse to entertain the principle in question, is because you show the backward tendency of indiscriminate variability [to be] inadequate to contend with the conservative tendency of long inheritance. the converse of this is expressed in the words "that the struggle between natural selection on the one hand, and the tendency to reversion and variability on the other hand, will in the course of time cease; and that the most abnormally developed organs may be made constant, i see no reason to doubt" ("origin," page ). certainly not, if, as i doubt not, the word "constant" is intended to bear a relative signification; but to say that constancy can ever become absolute--i.e., that any term of inheritance could secure to an organ a total immunity from the smallest amount of spontaneous variability--to say this would be unwarrantable. suppose, for instance, that for some reason or other a further increase in the size of a bat's wing should now suddenly become highly beneficial to that animal: we can scarcely suppose that variations would not be forthcoming for natural selection to seize upon (unless the limit of possible size has now been reached, which is an altogether distinct matter). and if we suppose that minute variations on the side of increase are thus even now occasionally taking place, much more is it probable that similar variations on the side of decrease are now taking place--i.e., that if the conservative influence of natural selection were removed for a long period of time, more variations would ensue below the present size of bat's wings, than above it. to this it may be added, that when the influence of "speedy selection" is removed, it seems in itself highly probable that the structure would, for this reason, become more variable, for the only reason why it ever ceased to be variable (i.e., after attaining its maximum size), was because of the influence of selection constantly destroying those individuals in which a tendency to vary occurred. when, therefore, this force antagonistic to variability was removed, it seems highly probable that the latter principle would again begin to assert itself, and this in a cumulative manner. those individuals in which a tendency to vary occurred being no longer cut off, they would have as good a chance of leaving progeny to inherit their fluctuating disposition as would their more inflexible companions. letter . to g.j. romanes. july th, . i am much obliged for your kind and long communication, which i have read with great interest, as well as your articles in "nature." the subject seems to me as important and interesting as it is difficult. i am much out of health, and working very hard on a very different subject, so thus i cannot give your remarks the attention which they deserve. i will, however, keep your letter for some later time, when i may again take up the subject. your letter makes it clearer to me than it ever was before, how a part or organ which has already begun from any cause to decrease, will go on decreasing through so-called spontaneous variability, with intercrossing; for under such circumstances it is very unlikely that there should be variation in the direction of increase beyond the average size, and no reason why there should not be variations of decrease. i think this expresses your view. i had intended this summer subjecting plants to [illegible] conditions, and observing the effects on variation; but the work would be very laborious, yet i am inclined to think it will be hereafter worth the labour. letter . to t. meehan. down, october th, . i am glad that you are attending to the colours of dioecious flowers; but it is well to remember that their colours may be as unimportant to them as those of a gall, or, indeed, as the colour of an amethyst or ruby is to these gems. some thirty years ago i began to investigate the little purple flowers in the centre of the umbels of the carrot. i suppose my memory is wrong, but it tells me that these flowers are female, and i think that i once got a seed from one of them; but my memory may be quite wrong. i hope that you will continue your interesting researches. letter . to g. jager. down, february rd, . i received this morning a copy of your work "contra wigand," either from yourself or from your publisher, and i am greatly obliged for it. ( / . jager's "in sachen darwins insbesondere contra wigand" (stuttgart, ) is directed against a. wigand's "der darwinismus und die naturforschung newtons und cuviers" (brunswick, ).) i had, however, before bought a copy, and have sent the new one to our best library, that of the royal society. as i am a very poor german scholar, i have as yet read only about forty pages; but these have interested me in the highest degree. your remarks on fixed and variable species deserve the greatest attention; but i am not at present quite convinced that there are such independent of the conditions to which they are subjected. i think you have done great service to the principle of evolution, which we both support, by publishing this work. i am the more glad to read it as i had not time to read wigand's great and tedious volume. letter . to chauncey wright. down, march th, . i write to-day so that there shall be no delay this time in thanking you for your interesting and long letter received this morning. i am sure that you will excuse brevity when i tell you that i am half-killing myself in trying to get a book ready for the press. ( / . the ms. of "insectivorous plants" was got ready for press in march, . darwin seems to have been more than usually oppressed by the work.) i quite agree with what you say about advantages of various degrees of importance being co-selected ( / . mr. chauncey wright wrote (february th, ): "the inquiry as to which of several real uses is the one through which natural selection has acted...has for several years seemed to me a somewhat less important question than it seemed formerly, and still appears to most thinkers on the subject...the uses of the rattling of the rattlesnake as a protection by warning its enemies and as a sexual call are not rival uses; neither are the high-reaching and the far-seeing uses of the giraffe's neck 'rivals.'"), and aided by the effects of use, etc. the subject seems to me well worth further development. i do not think i have anywhere noticed the use of the eyebrows, but have long known that they protected the eyes from sweat. during the voyage of the "beagle" one of the men ascended a lofty hill during a very hot day. he had small eyebrows, and his eyes became fearfully inflamed from the sweat running into them. the portuguese inhabitants were familiar with this evil. i think you allude to the transverse furrows on the forehead as a protection against sweat; but remember that these incessantly appear on the foreheads of baboons. p.s.--i have been greatly pleased by the notices in the "nation." letter . to a. weismann. down, may st, . i did not receive your essay for some days after your very kind letter, and i read german so slowly that i have only just finished it. ( / . "studien zur descendenz-theorie" i. "ueber den saison-dimorphismus," . the fact was previously known that two forms of the genus vanessa which had been considered to be distinct species are only seasonal forms of the same species--one appearing in spring, the other in summer. this remarkable relationship forms the subject of the essay.) your work has interested me greatly, and your conclusions seem well established. i have long felt much curiosity about season-dimorphism, but never could form any theory on the subject. undoubtedly your view is very important, as bearing on the general question of variability. when i wrote the "origin" i could not find any facts which proved the direct action of climate and other external conditions. i long ago thought that the time would soon come when the causes of variation would be fully discussed, and no one has done so much as you in this important subject. the recent evidence of the difference between birds of the same species in the n. and s. united states well shows the power of climate. the two sexes of some few birds are there differently modified by climate, and i have introduced this fact in the last edition of my "descent of man." ( / . "descent of man," edition ii. (in one volume), page . allen showed that many species of birds are more strongly coloured in the south of the united states, and that sometimes one sex is more affected than the other. it is this last point that bears on weismann's remarks (loc. cit., pages , ) on pieris napi. the males of the alpine-boreal form bryoniae hardly differ from those of the german form (var. vernalis), while the females are strikingly different. thus the character of secondary sexual differences is determined by climate.) i am, therefore, fully prepared to admit the justness of your criticism on sexual selection of lepidoptera; but considering the display of their beauty, i am not yet inclined to think that i am altogether in error. what you say about reversion ( / . for instance, the fact that reversion to the primary winter-form may be produced by the disturbing effect of high temperature (page ).) being excited by various causes, agrees with what i concluded with respect to the remarkable effects of crossing two breeds: namely, that anything which disturbs the constitution leads to reversion, or, as i put the case under my hypothesis of pangenesis, gives a good chance of latent gemmules developing. your essay, in my opinion, is an admirable one, and i thank you for the interest which it has afforded me. p.s. i find that there are several points, which i have forgotten. mr. jenner weir has not published anything more about caterpillars, but i have written to him, asking him whether he has tried any more experiments, and will keep back this letter till i receive his answer. mr. riley of the united states supports mr. weir, and you will find reference to him and other papers at page of the new and much-corrected edition of my "descent of man." as i have a duplicate copy of volume i. (i believe volume ii. is not yet published in german) i send it to you by this post. mr. belt, in his travels in nicaragua, gives several striking cases of conspicuously coloured animals (but not caterpillars) which are distasteful to birds of prey: he is an excellent observer, and his book, "the naturalist in nicaragua," very interesting. i am very much obliged for your photograph, which i am particularly glad to possess, and i send mine in return. i see you allude to hilgendorf's statements, which i was sorry to see disputed by some good german observer. mr. hyatt, an excellent palaeontologist of the united states, visited the place, and likewise assured me that hilgendorf was quite mistaken. ( / . see letters - .) i am grieved to hear that your eyesight still continues bad, but anyhow it has forced your excellent work in your last essay. may th. here is what mr. weir says:-- "in reply to your inquiry of saturday, i regret that i have little to add to my two communications to the 'entomological society transactions.' "i repeated the experiments with gaudy caterpillars for years, and always with the same results: not on a single occasion did i find richly coloured, conspicuous larvae eaten by birds. it was more remarkable to observe that the birds paid not the slightest attention to gaudy caterpillars, not even when in motion,--the experiments so thoroughly satisfied my mind that i have now given up making them." letter . to lawson tait. ( / . the late mr. lawson tait wrote to mr. darwin (june nd, ): "i am watching a lot of my mice from whom i removed the tails at birth, and i am coming to the conclusion that the essential use of the tail there is as a recording organ--that is, they record in their memories the corners they turn and the height of the holes they pass through by touching them with their tails." mr. darwin was interested in the idea because "some german sneered at natural selection and instanced the tails of mice.") june th, . it has just occurred to me to look at the "origin of species" (edition vi., page ), and it is certain that bronn, in the appended chapter to his translation of my book into german, did advance ears and tail of various species of mice as a difficulty opposed to natural selection. i answered with respect to ears by alluding to schobl's curious paper (i forget when published) ( / . j. schobl, "das aussere ohr der mause als wichtiges tastorgan." "archiv. mik. anat." vii., , page .) on the hairs of the ears being sensitive and provided with nerves. i presume he made fine sections: if you are accustomed to such histological work, would it not be worth while to examine hairs of tail of mice? at page i quote henslow (confirmed by gunther) on mus messorius (and other species?) using tail as prehensile organ. dr. kane in his account of the second grinnell expedition says that the esquimaux in severe weather carry a fox-tail tied to the neck, which they use as a respirator by holding the tip of the tail between their teeth. ( / . the fact is stated in volume ii., page , of e.k. kane's "arctic explorations: the second grinnell expedition in search of sir john franklin." philadelphia, .) he says also that he found a frozen fox curled up with his nose buried in his tail. n.b. it is just possible that the latter fact is stated by m'clintock, not by dr. kane. ( / . the final passage is a postscript by mr. w.e. darwin bearing on mr. lawson tait's idea of the respirator function of the fox's tail.) letter . to g.j. romanes. down, july th, . i am correcting a second edition of "variation under domestication," and find that i must do it pretty fully. therefore i give a short abstract of potato graft-hybrids, and i want to know whether i did not send you a reference about beet. did you look to this, and can you tell me anything about it? i hope with all my heart that you are getting on pretty well with your experiments. i have been led to think a good deal on the subject, and am convinced of its high importance, though it will take years of hammering before physiologists will admit that the sexual organs only collect the generative elements. the edition will be published in november, and then you will see all that i have collected, but i believe that you gave all the more important cases. the case of vine in "gardeners' chronicle," which i sent you, i think may only be a bud-variation not due to grafting. i have heard indirectly of your splendid success with nerves of medusae. we have been at abinger hall for a month for rest, which i much required, and i saw there the cut-leaved vine which seems splendid for graft hybridism. letter . to francis galton. down, november th, . i have read your essay with much curiosity and interest, but you probably have no idea how excessively difficult it is to understand. ( / . "a theory of heredity" ("journal of the anthropological institute," ). in this paper mr. galton admits that the hypothesis of organic units "must lie at the foundation of the science of heredity," and proceeds to show in what respect his conception differs from the hypothesis of pangenesis. the copy of mr. galton's paper, which darwin numbered in correspondence with the criticisms in his letter, is not available, and we are therefore only able to guess at some of the points referred to.) i cannot fully grasp, only here and there conjecture, what are the points on which we differ. i daresay this is chiefly due to muddy-headedness on my part, but i do not think wholly so. your many terms, not defined, "developed germs," "fertile," and "sterile germs" (the word "germ" itself from association misleading to me) "stirp," "sept," "residue," etc., etc., quite confounded me. if i ask myself how you derive, and where you place the innumerable gemmules contained within the spermatozoa formed by a male animal during its whole life, i cannot answer myself. unless you can make several parts clearer i believe (though i hope i am altogether wrong) that only a few will endeavour or succeed in fathoming your meaning. i have marked a few passages with numbers, and here make a few remarks and express my opinion, as you desire it, not that i suppose it will be of any use to you. . if this implies that many parts are not modified by use and disuse during the life of the individual, i differ widely from you, as every year i come to attribute more and more to such agency. ( / . this seems to refer to page of mr. galton's paper. the passage must have been hastily read, and has been quite misunderstood. mr. galton has never expressed the view attributed to him.) . this seems rather bold, as sexuality has not been detected in some of the lowest forms, though i daresay it may hereafter be. ( / . mr. galton, op. cit., pages - : "there are not of a necessity two sexes, because swarms of creatures of the simplest organisations mainly multiply by some process of self-division.") . if gemmules (to use my own term) were often deficient in buds, i cannot but think that bud-variations would be commoner than they are in a state of nature; nor does it seem that bud-variations often exhibit deficiencies which might be accounted for by the absence of the proper gemmules. i take a very different view of the meaning or cause of sexuality. ( / . mr. galton's idea is that in a bud or other asexually produced part, the germs (i.e. gemmules) may not be completely representative of the whole organism, and if reproduction is continued asexually "at each successive stage there is always a chance of some one or more of the various species of germs... dying out" (page ). mr. galton supposes, in sexual reproduction, where two parents contribute germs to the embryo the chance of deficiency of any of the necessary germs is greatly diminished. darwin's "very different view of the meaning or cause of sexuality" is no doubt that given in "cross and self fertilisation"--i.e., that sexuality is equivalent to changed conditions, that the parents are not representative of different sexes, but of different conditions of life.) . i have ordered "fraser's magazine" ( / . "the history of twins," by f. galton, "fraser's magazine," november, , republished with additions in the "journal of the anthropological institute," . mr. galton explains the striking dissimilarity of twins which is sometimes met with by supposing that the offspring in this case divide the available gemmules between them in such a way that each is the complement of the other. thus, to put the case in an exaggerated way, similar twins would each have half the gemmules a, b, c,...z., etc, whereas, in the case of dissimilar twins, one would have all the gemmules a, b, c, d,...m, and the other would have n...z.), and am curious to learn how twins from a single ovum are distinguished from twins from two ova. nothing seems to me more curious than the similarity and dissimilarity of twins. . awfully difficult to understand. . i have given almost the same notion. . i hope that all this will be altered. i have received new and additional cases, so that i have now not a shadow of doubt. . such cases can hardly be spoken of as very rare, as you would say if you had received half the number of cases i have. ( / . we are unable to determine to what paragraphs , , , refer.) i am very sorry to differ so much from you, but i have thought that you would desire my open opinion. frank is away, otherwise he should have copied my scrawl. i have got a good stock of pods of sweet peas, but the autumn has been frightfully bad; perhaps we may still get a few more to ripen. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, november th [ ]. many thanks for your "biology," which i have read. ( / . "a course of practical instruction in elementary biology," by t.h. huxley and h.n. martin, . for an account of the book see "life and letters of t.h. huxley," volume i., page .) it was a real stroke of genius to think of such a plan. lord, how i wish i had gone through such a course! letter . to francis galton. december th [ ]. george has been explaining our differences. i have admitted in the new edition ( / . in the second edition ( ) of the "variation of animals and plants," volume ii., page , reference is made to mr. galton's transfusion experiments, "proc. r. soc." xix., page ; also to mr. galton's letter to "nature," april th, , page . this is a curious mistake; the letter in "nature," april th, , is by darwin himself, and refers chiefly to the question whether gemmules may be supposed to be in the blood. mr. galton's letter is in "nature," may th, , volume iv., page . see letter .) (before seeing your essay) that perhaps the gemmules are largely multiplied in the reproductive organs; but this does not make me doubt that each unit of the whole system also sends forth its gemmules. you will no doubt have thought of the following objection to your views, and i should like to hear what your answer is. if two plants are crossed, it often, or rather generally, happens that every part of stem, leaf, even to the hairs, and flowers of the hybrid are intermediate in character; and this hybrid will produce by buds millions on millions of other buds all exactly reproducing the intermediate character. i cannot doubt that every unit of the hybrid is hybridised and sends forth hybridised gemmules. here we have nothing to do with the reproductive organs. there can hardly be a doubt from what we know that the same thing would occur with all those animals which are capable of budding, and some of these (as the compound ascidians) are sufficiently complex and highly organised. letter . to lawson tait. march th, . ( / . the reference is to the theory put forward in the first edition of "variation of animals and plants," ii., page , that the asserted tendency to regeneration after the amputation of supernumerary digits in man is a return to the recuperative powers characteristic of a "lowly organised progenitor provided with more than five digits." darwin's recantation is at volume i., page of the second edition.) since reading your first article ( / . lawson tait wrote two notices on "the variation of animals and plants under domestication" in the "spectator" of march th, , page , and march th, page .), dr. rudinger has written to me and sent me an essay, in which he gives the results of the most extensive inquiries from all eminent surgeons in germany, and all are unanimous about non-growth of extra digits after amputation. they explain some apparent cases, as paget did to me. by the way, i struck out of my second edition a quotation from sir j. simpson about re-growth in the womb, as paget demurred, and as i could not say how a rudiment of a limb due to any cause could be distinguished from an imperfect re-growth. two or three days ago i had another letter from germany from a good naturalist, dr. kollmann ( / . dr. kollmann was secretary of the anthropologische gesellschaft of munich, in which society took place the discussion referred to in "variation of animals and plants," i., , as originating darwin's doubts on the whole question. the fresh evidence adduced by kollmann as to the normal occurrence of a rudimentary sixth digit in batrachians is borus' paper, "die sechste zehe der anuren" in "morpholog. jahrbuch," bd. i., page . on this subject see letter .), saying he was sorry that i had given up atavism and extra digits, and telling me of new and good evidence of rudiments of a rudimentary sixth digit in batrachians (which i had myself seen, but given up owing to gegenbaur's views); but, with re-growth failing me, i could not uphold my old notion. letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . mr. romanes' reply to this letter is printed in his "life and letters," page , where by an oversight it is dated - .) h. wedgwood, esq., hopedene, dorking, may th [ ]. as you are interested in pangenesis, and will some day, i hope, convert an "airy nothing" into a substantial theory, i send by this post an essay by hackel ( / . "die perigenesis der plastidule oder die wellenzeugung der lebenstheilchen," pages. berlin, .) attacking pan. and substituting a molecular hypothesis. if i understand his views rightly, he would say that with a bird which strengthened its wings by use, the formative protoplasm of the strengthened parts became changed, and its molecular vibrations consequently changed, and that these vibrations are transmitted throughout the whole frame of the bird, and affect the sexual elements in such a manner that the wings of the offspring are developed in a like strengthened manner. i imagine he would say, in cases like those of lord morton's mare ( / . a nearly pure-bred arabian chestnut mare bore a hybrid to a quagga, and subsequently produced two striped colts by a black arabian horse: see "animals and plants," i., page . the case was originally described in the "philosophical transactions," , page . for an account of recent work bearing on this question, see article on "zebras, horses, and hybrids," in the "quarterly review," october . see letter .), that the vibrations from the protoplasm, or "plasson," of the seminal fluid of the zebra set plasson vibrating in the mare; and that these vibrations continued until the hair of the second colt was formed, and which consequently became barred like that of a zebra. how he explains reversion to a remote ancestor, i know not. perhaps i have misunderstood him, though i have skimmed the whole with some care. he lays much stress on inheritance being a form of unconscious memory, but how far this is part of his molecular vibration, i do not understand. his views make nothing clearer to me; but this may be my fault. no one, i presume, would doubt about molecular movements of some kind. his essay is clever and striking. if you read it (but you must not on my account), i should much like to hear your judgment, and you can return it at any time. the blue lines are hackel's to call my attention. we have come here for rest for me, which i have much needed; and shall remain here for about ten days more, and then home to work, which is my sole pleasure in life. i hope your splendid medusa work and your experiments on pangenesis are going on well. i heard from my son frank yesterday that he was feverish with a cold, and could not dine with the physiologists, which i am very sorry for, as i should have heard what they think about the new bill. i see that you are one of the secretaries to this young society. letter . to h.n. moseley. down, november nd [ ]. it is very kind of you to send me the japanese books, which are extremely curious and amusing. my son frank is away, but i am sure he will be much obliged for the two papers which you have sent him. thanks, also, for your interesting note. it is a pity that peripatus ( / . moseley "on the structure and development of peripatus capensis" ("phil. trans. r. soc." volume , page , ). "when suddenly handled or irritated, they (i.e. peripatus) shoot out fine threads of a remarkably viscid and tenacious milky fluid... projected from the tips of the oral papillae" (page ).) is so stupid as to spit out the viscid matter at the wrong end of its body; it would have been beautiful thus to have explained the origin of the spider's web. letter . naphtali lewy to charles darwin. ( / . the following letter refers to a book, "toledoth adam," written by a learned jew with the object of convincing his co-religionists of the truth of the theory of evolution. the translation we owe to the late henry bradshaw, university librarian at cambridge. the book is unfortunately no longer to be found in mr. darwin's library.) [ ]. to the lord, the prince, who "stands for an ensign of the people" (isa. xi. ), the investigator of the generation, the "bright son of the morning" (isa. xiv. ), charles darwin, may he live long! "from the rising of the sun and from the west" (isa. xlv. ) all the nations know concerning the torah (theory) ( / . lit., instruction. the torah is the pentateuch, strictly speaking, the source of all knowledge.) which has "proceeded from thee for a light of the people" (isa. li. ), and the nations "hear and say, it is truth" (isa. xliii. ). but with "the portion of my people" (jer. x. ), jacob, "the lot of my inheritance" (deut. xxxii. ), it is not so. this nation, "the ancient people" (isa. xliv. ), which "remembers the former things and considers the things of old (isa. xliii. ), "knows not, neither doth it understand" (psalm lxxxii. ), that by thy torah (instruction or theory) thou hast thrown light upon their torah (the law), and that the eyes of the hebrews ( / . one letter in this word changed would make the word "blind," which is what isaiah uses in the passage alluded to.) "can now see out of obscurity and out of darkness" (isa. xxix. ). therefore "i arose" (judges v. ) and wrote this book, "toledoth adam" ("the generations of man," gen. v. ), to teach the children of my people, the seed of jacob, the torah (instruction) which thou hast given for an inheritance to all the nations of the earth. and i have "proceeded to do a marvellous work among this people, even a marvellous work and a wonder" (isa. xxix. ), enabling them now to read in the torah of moses our teacher, "plainly and giving the sense" (neh. viii. ), that which thou hast given in thy torahs (works of instruction). and when my people perceive that thy view has by no means "gone astray" (num. v. , , etc.) from the torah of god, they will hold thy name in the highest reverence, and "will at the same time glorify the god of israel" (isa. xxix. ). "the vision of all this" (isa. xxix. ) thou shalt see, o prince of wisdom, in this book, "which goeth before me" (gen. xxxii. ); and whatever thy large understanding finds to criticise in it, come, "write it in a table and note it in a book" (isa. xxx. ); and allow me to name my work with thy name, which is glorified and greatly revered by thy servant, naphtali hallevi [i.e. the levite]. dated here in the city of radom, in the province of poland, in the month of nisan in the year , according to the lesser computation (i.e. a.m. [ ] = a.d. ). letter . to otto zacharias. . when i was on board the "beagle" i believed in the permanence of species, but, as far as i can remember, vague doubts occasionally flitted across my mind. on my return home in the autumn of i immediately began to prepare my journal for publication, and then saw how many facts indicated the common descent of species ( / . "the facts to which reference is here made were, without doubt, eminently fitted to attract the attention of a philosophical thinker; but until the relations of the existing with the extinct species and of the species of the different geographical areas, with one another were determined with some exactness, they afforded but an unsafe foundation for speculation. it was not possible that this determination should have been effected before the return of the "beagle" to england; and thus the date which darwin (writing in ) assigns to the dawn of the new light which was rising in his mind becomes intelligible."--from "darwiniana," essays by thomas h. huxley, london, ; pages - .), so that in july, , i opened a notebook to record any facts which might bear on the question; but i did not become convinced that species were mutable until, i think, two or three years had elapsed. ( / . on this last point see page .) letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . the following letter refers to ms. notes by romanes, which we have not seen. darwin's remarks on it are, however, sufficiently clear.) my address will be "bassett, southampton," june th [ ]. i have received the crossing paper which you were so kind as to send me. it is very clear, and i quite agree with it; but the point in question has not been a difficulty to me, as i have never believed in a new form originating from a single variation. what i have called unconscious selection by man illustrates, as it seems to me, the same principle as yours, within the same area. man purchases the individual animals or plants which seem to him the best in any respect--some more so, and some less so--and, without any matching or pairing, the breed in the course of time is surely altered. the absence in numerous instances of intermediate or blending forms, in the border country between two closely allied geographical races or close species, seemed to me a greater difficulty when i discussed the subject in the "origin." with respect to your illustration, it formerly drove me half mad to attempt to account for the increase or diminution of the productiveness of an organism; but i cannot call to mind where my difficulty lay. ( / . see letters - .) natural selection always applies, as i think, to each individual and its offspring, such as its seeds, eggs, which are formed by the mother, and which are protected in various ways. ( / . it was in regard to this point that romanes had sent the ms. to darwin. in a letter of june th he writes: "it was with reference to the possibility of natural selection acting on organic types as distinguished from individuals,--a possibility which you once told me did not seem at all clear.") there does not seem any difficulty in understanding how the productiveness of an organism might be increased; but it was, as far as i can remember, in reducing productiveness that i was most puzzled. but why i scribble about this i know not. i have read your review of mr. allen's book ( / . see "nature" (june th, , page ), a review of grant allen's "physiological aesthetics."), and it makes me more doubtful, even, than i was before whether he has really thrown much light on the subject. i am glad to hear that some physiologists take the same view as i did about your giving too much credit to h. spencer--though, heaven knows, this is a rare fault. ( / . the reference is to romanes' lecture on medusa, given at the royal institution, may th. (see "nature," xvi., pages , , .) it appears from a letter of romanes (june th) that it was the abstract in the "times" that gave the impression referred to. references to mr. spencer's theories of nerve-genesis occur in "nature," pages , , .) the more i think of your medusa-nerve-work the more splendid it seems to me. letter . to a. de candolle. down, august rd, . i must have the pleasure of thanking you for your long and interesting letter. the cause and means of the transition from an hermaphrodite to a unisexual condition seems to me a very perplexing problem, and i shall be extremely glad to read your remarks on smilax, whenever i receive the essay which you kindly say that you will send me. ( / . "monographiae phanerogamarum," volume i. in his treatment of the smilaceae, de candolle distinguishes:--heterosmilax which has dioecious flowers without a trace of aborted stamens or pistils, smilax with sterile stamens in the female flowers, and rhipogonum with hermaphrodite flowers.) there is much justice in your criticisms ( / . the passage criticised by de candolle is in "forms of flowers" (page ): "it is a natural inference that their corollas have been increased in size for this special purpose." de candolle goes on to give an account of the "recherche linguistique," which, with characteristic fairness, he undertook to ascertain whether the word "purpose" differs in meaning from the corresponding french word "but.") on my use of the terms object, end, purpose; but those who believe that organs have been gradually modified for natural selection for a special purpose may, i think, use the above terms correctly, though no conscious being has intervened. i have found much difficulty in my occasional attempts to avoid these terms, but i might perhaps have always spoken of a beneficial or serviceable effect. my son francis will be interested by hearing about smilax. he has dispatched to you a copy of his paper on the glands of dipsacus ( / . "quart. journ. mic. sci." .), and i hope that you will find time to read it, for the case seems to me a new and highly remarkable one. we are now hard at work on an attempt to make out the function or use of the bloom or waxy secretion on the leaves and fruit of many plants; but i doubt greatly whether our experiments will tell us much. ( / . "as it is we have made out clearly that with some plants (chiefly succulent) the bloom checks evaporation--with some certainly prevents attacks of insects; with some sea-shore plants prevents injury from salt-water, and i believe, with a few prevents injury from pure water resting on the leaves." (see letter to sir w. thiselton-dyer, "life and letters," iii., page . a paper on the same subject by francis darwin was published in the "journ. linn. soc." xxii.)) if you have any decided opinion whether plants with conspicuously glaucous leaves are more frequent in hot than in temperate or cold, in dry than in damp countries, i should be grateful if you would add to your many kindnesses by informing me. pray give my kind remembrances to your son, and tell him that my son has been trying on a large scale the effects of feeding drosera with meat, and the results are most striking and far more favourable than i anticipated. letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . published in the "life and letters" of romanes, page .) down, saturday night [ ]. i have just finished your lecture ( / . "the scientific evidence of organic evolution: a discourse" (delivered before the philosophical society of ross-shire), inverness, . it was reprinted in the "fortnightly review," and was afterwards worked up into a book under the above title.); it is an admirable scientific argument, and most powerful. i wish that it could be sown broadcast throughout the land. your courage is marvellous, and i wonder that you were not stoned on the spot--and in scotland! do please tell me how it was received in the lecture hall. about man being made like a monkey (page ( / . "and if you reject the natural explanation of hereditary descent, you can only suppose that the deity, in creating man, took the most scrupulous pains to make him in the image of the ape" ("discourse," page ).)) is quite new to me, and the argument in an earlier place (page ( / . at page of the "discourse" the speaker referred to the law "which sir william hamilton called the law of parsimony--or the law which forbids us to assume the operation of higher causes when lower ones are found sufficient to explain the desired effects," as constituting the "only logical barrier between science and superstition.")) on the law of parsimony admirably put. yes, page ( / . "discourse," page . if we accept the doctrines of individual creations and ideal types, we must believe that the deity acted "with no other apparent motive than to suggest to us, by every one of the observable facts, that the ideal types are nothing other than the bonds of a lineal descent.") is new to me. all strike me as very clear, and, considering small space, you have chosen your lines of reasoning excellently. the few last pages are awfully powerful, in my opinion. sunday morning.--the above was written last night in the enthusiasm of the moment, and now--this dark, dismal sunday morning--i fully agree with what i said. i am very sorry to hear about the failures in the graft experiments, and not from your own fault or ill-luck. trollope in one of his novels gives as a maxim of constant use by a brickmaker--"it is dogged as does it" ( / . "tell 'ee what, master crawley;--and yer reverence mustn't think as i means to be preaching; there ain't nowt a man can't bear if he'll only be dogged. you go whome, master crawley, and think o' that, and may be it'll do ye a good yet. it's dogged as does it. it ain't thinking about it." (giles hoggett, the old brickmaker, in "the last chronicle of barset," volume ii., , page .))--and i have often and often thought that this is the motto for every scientific worker. i am sure it is yours--if you do not give up pangenesis with wicked imprecations. by the way, g. jager has brought out in "kosmos" a chemical sort of pangenesis bearing chiefly on inheritance. ( / . several papers by jager on "inheritance" were published in the first volume of "kosmos," .) i cannot conceive why i have not offered my garden for your experiments. i would attend to the plants, as far as mere care goes, with pleasure; but down is an awkward place to reach. would it be worth while to try if the "fortnightly" would republish it [i.e. the lecture]? letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . in the honorary degree of ll.d. was conferred on mr. darwin by the university of cambridge. at the dinner given on the occasion by the philosophical society, mr. huxley responded to the toast of the evening with the speech of which an authorised version is given by mr. l. huxley in the "life and letters" of his father (volume i., page ). mr. huxley said, "but whether the that doctrine [of evolution] be true or whether it be false, i wish to express the deliberate opinion, that from aristotle's great summary of the biological knowledge of his time down to the present day, there is nothing comparable to the "origin of species," as a connected survey of the phenomena of life permeated and vivified by a central idea." in the first part of the speech there was a brilliant sentence which he described as a touch of the whip "tied round with ribbons," and this was perhaps a little hard on the supporters of evolution in the university. mr. huxley said "instead of offering her honours when they ran a chance of being crushed beneath the accumulated marks of approbation of the whole civilised world, the university has waited until the trophy was finished, and has crowned the edifice with the delicate wreath of academic appreciation.") down, monday night, november th [ ]. i cannot rest easy without telling you more gravely than i did when we met for five minutes near the museum, how deeply i have felt the many generous things (as far as frank could remember them) which you said about me at the dinner. frank came early next morning boiling over with enthusiasm about your speech. you have indeed always been to me a most generous friend, but i know, alas, too well how greatly you overestimate me. forgive me for bothering you with these few lines. ( / . the following extract from a letter (february th, ) to his old schoolfellow, mr. j. price, gives a characteristic remark about the honorary degree.) "i am very much obliged for your kind congratulations about the ll.d. why the senate conferred it on me i know not in the least. i was astonished to hear that the r. prof. of divinity and several other great dons attended, and several such men have subscribed, as i am informed, for the picture for the university to commemorate the honour conferred on me." letter . to w. bowman. ( / . we have not discovered to what prize the following letter to the late sir w. bowman (the well known surgeon) refers.) down, february nd, . i received your letter this morning, and it was quite impossible that you should receive an answer by p.m. to-day. but this does not signify in the least, for your proposal seems to me a very good one, and i most entirely agree with you that it is far better to suggest some special question rather than to have a general discussion compiled from books. the rule that the essay must be "illustrative of the wisdom and beneficence of the almighty" would confine the subjects to be proposed. with respect to the vegetable kingdom, i could suggest two or three subjects about which, as it seems to me, information is much required; but these subjects would require a long course of experiment, and unfortunately there is hardly any one in this country who seems inclined to devote himself to experiments. letter . to j. torbitt. ( / . mr. torbitt was engaged in trying to produce by methodical selection and cross-fertilisation a fungus-proof race of the potato. the plan is fully described in the "life and letters," iii., page . the following letter is given in additional illustration of the keen interest mr. darwin took in the project.) down, monday, march th, . i have nothing good to report. mr. caird called upon me yesterday; both he and mr. farrer ( / . the late lord farrer.) have been most energetic and obliging. there is no use in thinking about the agricultural society. mr. caird has seen several persons on the subject, especially mr. carruthers, botanist to the society. he (mr. carruthers) thinks the attempt hopeless, but advances in a long memorandum sent to mr. caird, reasons which i am convinced are not sound. he specifies two points, however, which are well worthy of your consideration--namely, that a variety should be tested three years before its soundness can be trusted; and especially it should be grown under a damp climate. mr. carruthers' opinion on this head is valuable because he was employed by the society in judging the varieties sent in for the prize offered a year or two ago. if i had strength to get up a memorial to government, i believe that i could succeed; for sir j. hooker writes that he believes you are on the right path; but i do not know to whom else to apply whose judgment would have weight with government, and i really have not strength to discuss the matter and convert persons. at mr. farrer's request, when we hoped the agricultural society might undertake it, i wrote to him a long letter giving him my opinion on the subject; and this letter mr. caird took with him yesterday, and will consider with mr. farrer whether any application can be made to government. i am, however, far from sanguine. i shall see mr. farrer this evening, and will do what i can. when i receive back my letter i will send it to you for your perusal. after much reflection it seems to me that your best plan will be, if we fail to get government aid, to go on during the present year, on a reduced scale, in raising new cross-fertilised varieties, and next year, if you are able, testing the power of endurance of only the most promising kind. if it were possible it would be very advisable for you to get some grown on the wet western side of ireland. if you succeed in procuring a fungus-proof variety you may rely on it that its merits would soon become known locally and it would afterwards spread rapidly far and wide. mr. caird gave me a striking instance of such a case in scotland. i return home to-morrow morning. i have the pleasure to enclose a cheque for pounds. if you receive a government grant, i ought to be repaid. p.s. if i were in your place i would not expend any labour or money in publishing what you have already done, or in sending seeds or tubers to any one. i would work quietly on till some sure results were obtained. and these would be so valuable that your work in this case would soon be known. i would also endeavour to pass as severe a judgment as possible on the state of the tubers and plants. letter . to e. von mojsisovics. down, june st, . i have at last found time to read [the] first chapter of your "dolomit riffe" ( / . "dolomitriffe sudtirols und venetiens." wien, .), and have been exceedingly interested by it. what a wonderful change in the future of geological chronology you indicate, by assuming the descent-theory to be established, and then taking the graduated changes of the same group of organisms as the true standard! i never hoped to live to see such a step even proposed by any one. ( / . published in "life and letters," iii., pages , .) nevertheless, i saw dimly that each bed in a formation could contain only the organisms proper to a certain depth, and to other there existing conditions, and that all the intermediate forms between one marine species and another could rarely be preserved in the same place and bed. oppel, neumayr, and yourself will confer a lasting and admirable service on the noble science of geology, if you can spread your views so as to be generally known and accepted. with respect to the continental and oceanic periods common to the whole northern hemisphere, to which you refer, i have sometimes speculated that the present distribution of the land and sea over the world may have formerly been very different to what it now is; and that new genera and families may have been developed on the shores of isolated tracts in the south, and afterwards spread to the north. letter . to j.w. judd. down, june th, . i am heartily glad to hear of your intended marriage. a good wife is the supreme blessing in this life, and i hope and believe from what you say that you will be as happy as i have been in this respect. may your future geological work be as valuable as that which you have already done; and more than this need not be wished for any man. the practical teaching of geology seems an excellent idea. many thanks for neumayr, ( / . probably a paper on "die congerien und paludinenschichten slavoniens und deren fauna. ein beitrag zur descendenz-theorie," "wien. geol. abhandl." vii. (heft ), - .), but i have already received and read a copy of the same, or at least of a very similar essay, and admirably good it seemed to me. this essay, and one by mojsisovics ( / . see note to letter .), which i have lately read, show what palaeontology in the future will do for the classification and sequence of formations. it delighted me to see so inverted an order of proceeding--viz., the assuming the descent of species as certain, and then taking the changes of closely allied forms as the standard of geological time. my health is better than it was a few years ago, but i never pass a day without much discomfort and the sense of extreme fatigue. ( / . we owe to professor judd the following interesting recollections of mr. darwin, written about :-- "on this last occasion, when i congratulated him on his seeming better condition of health, he told me of the cause for anxiety which he had in the state of his heart. indeed, i cannot help feeling that he had a kind of presentiment that his end was approaching. when i left him, he insisted on conducting me to the door, and there was that in his tone and manner which seemed to convey to me the sad intelligence that it was not merely a temporary farewell, though he himself was perfectly cheerful and happy. "it is impossible for me adequately to express the impression made upon my mind by my various conversations with mr. darwin. his extreme modesty led him to form the lowest estimate of his own labours, and a correspondingly extravagant idea of the value of the work done by others. his deference to the arguments and suggestions of men greatly his juniors, and his unaffected sympathy in their pursuits, was most marked and characteristic; indeed, he, the great master of science, used to speak, and i am sure felt, as though he were appealing to superior authority for information in all his conversations. it was only when a question was fully discussed with him that one became conscious of the fund of information he could bring to its elucidation, and the breadth of thought with which he had grasped it. of his gentle, loving nature, of which i had so many proofs, i need not write; no one could be with him, even for a few minutes, without being deeply impressed by his grateful kindliness and goodness.") letter . to count saporta. down, august th, . i thank you very sincerely for your kind and interesting letter. it would be false in me to pretend that i care very much about my election to the institute, but the sympathy of some few of my friends has gratified me deeply. i am extremely glad to hear that you are going to publish a work on the more ancient fossil plants; and i thank you beforehand for the volume which you kindly say that you will send me. i earnestly hope that you will give, at least incidentally, the results at which you have arrived with respect to the more recent tertiary plants; for the close gradation of such forms seems to me a fact of paramount importance for the principle of evolution. your cases are like those on the gradation in the genus equus, recently discovered by marsh in north america. letter . to the duke of argyll. ( / . the following letter was published in "nature," march th, , volume xliii., page , together with a note from the late duke of argyll, in which he stated that the letter had been written to him by mr. darwin in reply to the question, "why it was that he did assume the unity of mankind as descended from a single pair." the duke added that in the reply mr. darwin "does not repudiate this interpretation of his theory, but simply proceeds to explain and to defend the doctrine." on a former occasion the duke of argyll had "alluded as a fact to the circumstance that charles darwin assumed mankind to have arisen at one place, and therefore in a single pair." the letter from darwin was published in answer to some scientific friends, who doubted the fact and asked for the reference on which the statement was based.) down, september rd, . the problem which you state so clearly is a very interesting one, on which i have often speculated. as far as i can judge, the improbability is extreme that the same well-characterised species should be produced in two distinct countries, or at two distinct times. it is certain that the same variation may arise in two distinct places, as with albinism or with the nectarine on peach-trees. but the evidence seems to me overwhelming that a well-marked species is the product, not of a single or of a few variations, but of a long series of modifications, each modification resulting chiefly from adaptation to infinitely complex conditions (including the inhabitants of the same country), with more or less inheritance of all the preceding modifications. moreover, as variability depends more on the nature of the organism than on that of the environment, the variations will tend to differ at each successive stage of descent. now it seems to me improbable in the highest degree that a species should ever have been exposed in two places to infinitely complex relations of exactly the same nature during a long series of modifications. an illustration will perhaps make what i have said clearer, though it applies only to the less important factors of inheritance and variability, and not to adaptation--viz., the improbability of two men being born in two countries identical in body and mind. if, however, it be assumed that a species at each successive stage of its modification was surrounded in two distinct countries or times, by exactly the same assemblage of plants and animals, and by the same physical conditions, then i can see no theoretical difficulty [in] such a species giving birth to the new form in the two countries. if you will look to the sixth edition of my "origin," at page , you will find a somewhat analogous discussion, perhaps more intelligible than this letter. letter . w.t. thiselton-dyer to the editor of "nature." ( / . the following letter ("nature," volume xliii., page ) criticises the interpretation given by the duke to mr. darwin's letter.) royal gardens, kew, march th [ ]. in "nature" of march th (page ), the duke of argyll has printed a very interesting letter of mr. darwin's, from which he drew the inference that the writer "assumed mankind to have arisen...in a single pair." i do not think myself that the letter bears this interpretation. but the point in its most general aspect is a very important one, and is often found to present some difficulty to students of mr. darwin's writings. quite recently i have found by accident, amongst the papers of the late mr. bentham at kew, a letter of friendly criticism from mr. darwin upon the presidential address which mr. bentham delivered to the linnean society on may th, . this letter, i think, has been overlooked and not published previously. in it mr. darwin expresses himself with regard to the multiple origin of races and some other points in very explicit language. prof. meldola, to whom i mentioned in conversation the existence of the letter, urged me strongly to print it. this, therefore, i now do, with the addition of a few explanatory notes. letter . to g. bentham. down, november th, . ( / . the notes to this letter are by sir w. thiselton-dyer, and appeared in "nature," loc. cit.) i was greatly interested by your address, which i have now read thrice, and which i believe will have much influence on all who read it. but you are mistaken in thinking that i ever said you were wrong on any point. all that i meant was that on certain points, and these very doubtful points, i was inclined to differ from you. and now, on further considering the point on which some two or three months ago i felt most inclined to differ--viz., on isolation--i find i differ very little. what i have to say is really not worth saying, but as i should be very sorry not to do whatever you asked, i will scribble down the slightly dissentient thoughts which have occurred to me. it would be an endless job to specify the points in which you have interested me; but i may just mention the relation of the extreme western flora of europe (some such very vague thoughts have crossed my mind, relating to the glacial period) with south africa, and your remarks on the contrast of passive and active distribution. page lxx.--i think the contingency of a rising island, not as yet fully stocked with plants, ought always to be kept in mind when speaking of colonisation. page lxxiv.--i have met with nothing which makes me in the least doubt that large genera present a greater number of varieties relatively to their size than do small genera. ( / . bentham thought "degree of variability... like other constitutional characters, in the first place an individual one, which...may become more or less hereditary, and therefore specific; and thence, but in a very faint degree, generic." he seems to mean to argue against the conclusion which sir joseph hooker had quoted from mr. darwin that "species of large genera are more variable than those of small." [on large genera varying, see letter .]) hooker was convinced by my data, never as yet published in full, only abstracted in the "origin." page lxxviii.--i dispute whether a new race or species is necessarily, or even generally, descended from a single or pair of parents. the whole body of individuals, i believe, become altered together--like our race-horses, and like all domestic breeds which are changed through "unconscious selection" by man. ( / . bentham had said: "we must also admit that every race has probably been the offspring of one parent or pair of parents, and consequently originated in one spot." the duke of argyll inverts the proposition.) when such great lengths of time are considered as are necessary to change a specific form, i greatly doubt whether more or less rapid powers of multiplication have more than the most insignificant weight. these powers, i think, are related to greater or less destruction in early life. page lxxix.--i still think you rather underrate the importance of isolation. i have come to think it very important from various grounds; the anomalous and quasi-extinct forms on islands, etc., etc., etc. with respect to areas with numerous "individually durable" forms, can it be said that they generally present a "broken" surface with "impassable barriers"? this, no doubt, is true in certain cases, as teneriffe. but does this hold with south-west australia or the cape? i much doubt. i have been accustomed to look at the cause of so many forms as being partly an arid or dry climate (as de candolle insists) which indirectly leads to diversified [?] conditions; and, secondly, to isolation from the rest of the world during a very long period, so that other more dominant forms have not entered, and there has been ample time for much specification and adaptation of character. page lxxx.--i suppose you think that the restiaceae, proteaceae ( / . it is doubtful whether bentham did think so. in his address he says: "i cannot resist the opinion that all presumptive evidence is against european proteaceae, and that all direct evidence in their favour has broken down upon cross-examination."), etc., etc., once extended over the world, leaving fragments in the south. you in several places speak of distribution of plants as if exclusively governed by soil and climate. i know that you do not mean this, but i regret whenever a chance is omitted of pointing out that the struggle with other plants (and hostile animals) is far more important. i told you that i had nothing worth saying, but i have given you my thoughts. how detestable are the roman numerals! why should not the president's addresses, which are often, and i am sure in this case, worth more than all the rest of the number, be paged with christian figures? letter . to r. meldola. ( / . "this letter was in reply to a suggestion that in his preface mr. darwin should point out by references to "the origin of species" and his other writings how far he had already traced out the path which weismann went over. the suggestion was made because in a great many of the continental writings upon the theory of descent, many of the points which had been clearly foreshadowed, and in some cases even explicitly stated by darwin, had been rediscovered and published as though original. in the notes to my edition of weismann i have endeavoured to do darwin full justice.--r.m." see letter .) , bryanston street, november th, . i am very sorry to say that i cannot agree to your suggestion. an author is never a fit judge of his own work, and i should dislike extremely pointing out when and how weismann's conclusions and work agreed with my own. i feel sure that i ought not to do this, and it would be to me an intolerable task. nor does it seem to me the proper office of the preface, which is to show what the book contains, and that the contents appear to me valuable. but i can see no objection for you, if you think fit, to write an introduction with remarks or criticisms of any kind. of course, i would be glad to advise you on any point as far as lay in my power, but as a whole i could have nothing to do with it, on the grounds above specified, that an author cannot and ought not to attempt to judge his own works, or compare them with others. i am sorry to refuse to do anything which you wish. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, january th, . i have just finished your present of the life of hume ( / . "hume" in mr. morley's "english men of letters" series. of the biographical part of this book mr. huxley wrote, in a letter to mr. skelton, january ("life of t.h. huxley," ii., page ): "it is the nearest approach to a work of fiction of which i have yet been guilty."), and must thank you for the great pleasure which it has given me. your discussions are, as it seems to me, clear to a quite marvellous degree, and many of the little interspersed flashes of wit are delightful. i particularly enjoyed the pithy judgment in about five words on comte. ( / . possibly the passage referred to is on page .) notwithstanding the clearness of every sentence, the subjects are in part so difficult that i found them stiff reading. i fear, therefore, that it will be too stiff for the general public; but i heartily hope that this will prove to be a mistake, and in this case the intelligence of the public will be greatly exalted in my eyes. the writing of this book must have been awfully hard work, i should think. letter . to f. muller. down, march th [ ]. i thank you cordially for your letter. your facts and discussion on the loss of the hairs on the legs of the caddis-flies seem to me the most important and interesting thing which i have read for a very long time. i hope that you will not disapprove, but i have sent your letter to "nature" ( / . fritz muller, "on a frog having eggs on its back--on the abortion of the hairs on the legs of certain caddis-flies, etc.": muller's letter and one from charles darwin were published in "nature," volume xix., page , .), with a few prefatory remarks, pointing out to the general reader the importance of your view, and stating that i have been puzzled for many years on this very point. if, as i am inclined to believe, your view can be widely extended, it will be a capital gain to the doctrine of evolution. i see by your various papers that you are working away energetically, and, wherever you look, you seem to discover something quite new and extremely interesting. your brother also continues to do fine work on the fertilisation of flowers and allied subjects. i have little or nothing to tell you about myself. i go slowly crawling on with my present subject--the various and complicated movements of plants. i have not been very well of late, and am tired to-day, so will write no more. with the most cordial sympathy in all your work, etc. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, april th, . many thanks for the book. ( / . ernst hackel's "freedom in science and teaching," with a prefatory note by t.h. huxley, . professor hackel has recently published (without permission) a letter in which mr. darwin comments severely on virchow. it is difficult to say which would have pained mr. darwin more--the affront to a colleague, or the breach of confidence in a friend.) i have read only the preface...it is capital, and i enjoyed the tremendous rap on the knuckles which you gave virchow at the close. what a pleasure it must be to write as you can do! letter . to e.s. morse. down, october st, . although you are so kind as to tell me not to write, i must just thank you for the proofs of your paper, which has interested me greatly. ( / . see "the shell mounds of omori" in the "memoirs of the science department of the univ. of tokio," volume i., part i., . the ridges on arca are mentioned at page . in "nature," april th, , mr. darwin published a letter by mr. morse relating to the review of the above paper, which appeared in "nature," xxi., page . mr. darwin introduces mr. morse's letter with some prefatory remarks. the correspondence is republished in the "american naturalist," september, .) the increase in the number of ridges in the three species of arca seems to be a very noteworthy fact, as does the increase of size in so many, yet not all, the species. what a constant state of fluctuation the whole organic world seems to be in! it is interesting to hear that everywhere the first change apparently is in the proportional numbers of the species. i was much struck with the fact in the upraised shells of coquimbo, in chili, as mentioned in my "geological observations on south america." of all the wonders in the world, the progress of japan, in which you have been aiding, seems to me about the most wonderful. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, january th . as this note requires no sort of answer, you must allow me to express my lively admiration of your paper in the "nineteenth century." ( / . "nineteenth century," january , page , "on the origin of species and genera.") you certainly are a master in the difficult art of clear exposition. it is impossible to urge too often that the selection from a single varying individual or of a single varying organ will not suffice. you have worked in capitally allen's admirable researches. ( / . j.a. allen, "on the mammals and winter birds of east florida, etc." ("bull. mus. comp. zoolog. harvard," volume ii.) as usual, you delight to honour me more than i deserve. when i have written about the extreme slowness of natural selection ( / . mr. wallace makes a calculation based on allen's results as to the very short period in which the formation of a race of birds differing to per cent. from the average in length of wing and strength of beak might conceivably be effected. he thinks that the slowness of the action of natural selection really depends on the slowness of the changes naturally occurring in the physical conditions, etc.) (in which i hope i may be wrong), i have chiefly had in my mind the effects of intercrossing. i subscribe to almost everything you say excepting the last short sentence. ( / . the passage in question is as follows: "i have also attempted to show that the causes which have produced the separate species of one genus, of one family, or perhaps of one order, from a common ancestor, are not necessarily the same as those which have produced the separate orders, classes, and sub-kingdoms from more remote common ancestors. that all have been alike produced by 'descent with modification' from a few primitive types, the whole body of evidence clearly indicates; but while individual variation with natural selection is proved to be adequate for the production of the former, we have no proof and hardly any evidence that it is adequate to initiate those important divergences of type which characterise the latter." in this passage stress should be laid (as mr. wallace points out to us) on the word proof. he by no means asserts that the causes which have produced the species of a genus are inadequate to produce greater differences. his object is rather to urge the difference between proof and probability.) letter . to j.h. fabre. ( / . a letter to m. fabre is given in "life and letters," iii., page , in which the suggestion is made of rotating the insect before a "homing" experiment occurs.) down, february th, . i thank you for your kind letter, and am delighted that you will try the experiment of rotation. it is very curious that such a belief should be held about cats in your country ( / . m. fabre had written from serignan, vaucluse: "parmi la population des paysans de mon village, l'habitude est de faire tourner dans un sac le chat que l'on se propose de porter ailleurs, et dont on veut empecher le retour. j'ignore si cette pratique obtient du succes."), i never heard of anything of the kind in england. i was led, as i believe, to think of the experiment from having read in wrangel's "travels in siberia" ( / . admiral ferdinand petrovich von wrangell, "le nord de la siberie, voyage parmi les peuplades de la russie asiatique, etc." paris, .) of the wonderful power which the samoyedes possess of keeping their direction in a fog whilst travelling in a tortuous line through broken ice. with respect to cats, i have seen an account that in belgium there is a society which gives prizes to the cat which can soonest find its way home, and for this purpose they are carried to distant parts of the city. here would be a capital opportunity for trying rotation. i am extremely glad to hear that your book will probably be translated into english. p.s.--i shall be much pleased to hear the result of your experiments. letter . to j.h. fabre. down, january st, . i am much obliged for your very interesting letter. your results appear to me highly important, as they eliminate one means by which animals might perhaps recognise direction; and this, from what has been said about savages, and from our own consciousness, seemed the most probable means. if you think it worth while, you can of course mention my name in relation to this subject. should you succeed in eliminating a sense of the magnetic currents of the earth, you would leave the field of investigation quite open. i suppose that even those who still believe that each species was separately created would admit that certain animals possess some sense by which they perceive direction, and which they use instinctively. on mentioning the subject to my son george, who is a mathematician and knows something about magnetism, he suggested making a very thin needle into a magnet; then breaking it into very short pieces, which would still be magnetic, and fastening one of these pieces with some cement on the thorax of the insect to be experimented on. he believes that such a little magnet, from its close proximity to the nervous system of the insect, would affect it more than would the terrestrial currents. i have received your essay on halictus ( / . "sur les moeurs et la parthenogese des halictes" ("ann. sc. nat." ix., - ).), which i am sure that i shall read with much interest. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . on april th, , mr. huxley lectured at the royal institution on "the coming of age of the origin of species." the lecture was published in "nature" and in huxley's "collected essays," volume ii., page . darwin's letter to huxley on the subject is given in "life and letters," iii., page ; in huxley's reply of may th ("life and letters of t.h. huxley," ii., page ) he writes: "i hope you do not imagine because i had nothing to say about 'natural selection' that i am at all weak of faith on that article...but the first thing seems to me to be to drive the fact of evolution into people's heads; when that is once safe, the rest will come easy.") down, may th, . i had no intention to make you write to me, or expectation of your doing so; but your note has been so far "cheerier" ( / . "you are the cheeriest letter-writer i know": huxley to darwin. see huxley's "life," ii., page .) to me than mine could have been to you, that i must and will write again. i saw your motive for not alluding to natural selection, and quite agreed in my mind in its wisdom. but at the same time it occurred to me that you might be giving it up, and that anyhow you could not safely allude to it without various "provisos" too long to give in a lecture. if i think continuously on some half-dozen structures of which we can at present see no use, i can persuade myself that natural selection is of quite subordinate importance. on the other hand, when i reflect on the innumerable structures, especially in plants, which twenty years ago would have been called simply "morphological" and useless, and which are now known to be highly important, i can persuade myself that every structure may have been developed through natural selection. it is really curious how many out of a list of structures which bronn enumerated, as not possibly due to natural selection because of no functional importance, can now be shown to be highly important. lobed leaves was, i believe, one case, and only two or three days ago frank showed me how they act in a manner quite sufficiently important to account for the lobing of any large leaf. i am particularly delighted at what you say about domestic dogs, jackals, and wolves, because from mere indirect evidence i arrived in "varieties of domestic animals" at exactly the same conclusion ( / . mr. darwin's view was that domestic dogs descend from more than one wild species.) with respect to the domestic dogs of europe and north america. see how important in another way this conclusion is; for no one can doubt that large and small dogs are perfectly fertile together, and produce fertile mongrels; and how well this supports the pallasian doctrine ( / . see letter .) that domestication eliminates the sterility almost universal between forms slowly developed in a state of nature. i humbly beg your pardon for bothering you with so long a note; but it is your own fault. plants are splendid for making one believe in natural selection, as will and consciousness are excluded. i have lately been experimenting on such a curious structure for bursting open the seed-coats: i declare one might as well say that a pair of scissors or nutcrackers had been developed through external conditions as the structure in question. ( / . the peg or heel in cucurbita: see "power of movement in plants" page .) letter . to t.h. huxley. down, november th, . on reading over your excellent review ( / . see "nature," november th, , page , a review of volume i. of the publications of the "challenger," to which sir wyville thomson contributed a general introduction.) with the sentence quoted from sir wyville thomson, it seemed to me advisable, considering the nature of the publication, to notice "extreme variation" and another point. now, will you read the enclosed, and if you approve, post it soon. if you disapprove, throw it in the fire, and thus add one more to the thousand kindnesses which you have done me. do not write: i shall see result in next week's "nature." please observe that in the foul copy i had added a final sentence which i do not at first copy, as it seemed to me inferentially too contemptuous; but i have now pinned it to the back, and you can send it or not, as you think best,--that is, if you think any part worth sending. my request will not cost you much trouble--i.e. to read two pages, for i know that you can decide at once. i heartily enjoyed my talk with you on sunday morning. p.s.--if my manuscript appears too flat, too contemptuous, too spiteful, or too anything, i earnestly beseech you to throw it into the fire. letter . charles darwin to the editor of "nature." ( / . "nature," november th, , page .) down, november th, . sir wyville thomson and natural selection. i am sorry to find that sir wyville thomson does not understand the principle of natural selection, as explained by mr. wallace and myself. if he had done so, he could not have written the following sentence in the introduction to the voyage of the "challenger": "the character of the abyssal fauna refuses to give the least support to the theory which refers the evolution of species to extreme variation guided only by natural selection." this is a standard of criticism not uncommonly reached by theologians and metaphysicians, when they write on scientific subjects, but is something new as coming from a naturalist. professor huxley demurs to it in the last number of "nature"; but he does not touch on the expression of extreme variation, nor on that of evolution being guided only by natural selection. can sir wyville thomson name any one who has said that the evolution of species depends only on natural selection? as far as concerns myself, i believe that no one has brought forward so many observations on the effects of the use and disuse of parts, as i have done in my "variation of animals and plants under domestication"; and these observations were made for this special object. i have likewise there adduced a considerable body of facts, showing the direct action of external conditions on organisms; though no doubt since my books were published much has been learnt on this head. if sir wyville thomson were to visit the yard of a breeder, and saw all his cattle or sheep almost absolutely true--that is, closely similar, he would exclaim: "sir, i see here no extreme variation; nor can i find any support to the belief that you have followed the principle of selection in the breeding of your animals." from what i formerly saw of breeders, i have no doubt that the man thus rebuked would have smiled and said not a word. if he had afterwards told the story to other breeders, i greatly fear that they would have used emphatic but irreverent language about naturalists. ( / . the following is the passage omitted by the advice of huxley: see his "life and letters," ii., page :-- "perhaps it would have been wiser on my part to have remained quite silent, like the breeder; for, as prof. sedgwick remarked many years ago, in reference to the poor old dean of york, who was never weary of inveighing against geologists, a man who talks about what he does not in the least understand, is invulnerable.") letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . part of this letter has been published in mr. c. barber's note on "graft-hybrids of the sugar-cane," in "the sugar-cane," november .) down, january st, . i send the ms., but as far as i can judge by just skimming it, it will be of no use to you. it seems to bear on transitional forms. i feel sure that i have other and better cases, but i cannot remember where to look. i should have written to you in a few days on the following case. the baron de villa franca wrote to me from brazil about two years ago, describing new varieties of sugar-cane which he had raised by planting two old varieties in apposition. i believe (but my memory is very faulty) that i wrote that i could not believe in such a result, and attributed the new varieties to the soil, etc. i believe that i did not understand what he meant by apposition. yesterday a packet of ms. arrived from the brazilian legation, with a letter in french from dr. glass, director of the botanic gardens, describing fully how he first attempted grafting varieties of sugar-cane in various ways, and always failed, and then split stems of two varieties, bound them together and planted them, and then raised some new and very valuable varieties, which, like crossed plants, seem to grow with extra vigour, are constant, and apparently partake of the character of the two varieties. the baron also sends me an attested copy from a number of brazilian cultivators of the success of the plan of raising new varieties. i am not sure whether the brazilian legation wishes me to return the document, but if i do not hear in three or four days that they must be returned, they shall be sent to you, for they seem to me well deserving your consideration. perhaps if i had been contented with my hyacinth bulbs being merely bound together without any true adhesion or rather growth together, i should have succeeded like the old dutchman. there is a deal of superfluous verbiage in the documents, but i have marked with pencil where the important part begins. the attestations are in duplicate. now, after reading them will you give me your opinion whether the main parts are worthy of publication in "nature": i am inclined to think so, and it is good to encourage science in out-of-the-way parts of the world. keep this note till you receive the documents or hear from me. i wonder whether two varieties of wheat could be similarly treated? no, i suppose not--from the want of lateral buds. i was extremely interested by your abstract on suicide. letter . to k. semper. down, february th, . owing to all sorts of work, i have only just now finished reading your "natural conditions of existence." ( / . semper's "natural conditions of existence as they affect animal life" (international science series), .) although a book of small size, it contains an astonishing amount of matter, and i have been particularly struck with the originality with which you treat so many subjects, and at your scrupulous accuracy. in far the greater number of points i quite follow you in your conclusions, but i differ on some, and i suppose that no two men in the world would fully agree on so many different subjects. i have been interested on so many points, i can hardly say on which most. perhaps as much on geographical distribution as on any other, especially in relation to m. wagner. (no! no! about parasites interested me even more.) how strange that wagner should have thought that i meant by struggle for existence, struggle for food. it is curious that he should not have thought of the endless adaptations for the dispersal of seeds and the fertilisation of flowers. again i was much interested about branchipus and artemia. ( / . the reference is to schmankewitsch's experiments, page : he kept artemia salina in salt-water, gradually diluted with fresh-water until it became practically free from salt; the crustaceans gradually changed in the course of generations, until they acquired the characters of the genus branchipus.) when i read imperfectly some years ago the original paper i could not avoid thinking that some special explanation would hereafter be found for so curious a case. i speculated whether a species very liable to repeated and great changes of conditions, might not acquire a fluctuating condition ready to be adapted to either conditions. with respect to arctic animals being white (page of your book) it might perhaps be worth your looking at what i say from pallas' and my own observations in the "descent of man" (later editions) chapter viii., page , and chapter xviii., page . i quite agree with what i gather to be your judgment, viz., that the direct action of the conditions of life on organisms, or the cause of their variability, is the most important of all subjects for the future. for some few years i have been thinking of commencing a set of experiments on plants, for they almost invariably vary when cultivated. i fancy that i see my way with the aid of continued self-fertilisation. but i am too old, and have not strength enough. nevertheless the hope occasionally revives. finally let me thank you for the very kind manner in which you often refer to my works, and for the even still kinder manner in which you disagree with me. with cordial thanks for the pleasure and instruction which i have derived from your book, etc. letter . to count saporta. down, february th, . i received a week or two ago the work which you and prof. marion have been so kind as to send me. ( / . probably "l'evolution du regne vegetal," i. "cryptogames," saporta & marion, paris, .) when it arrived i was much engaged, and this must be my excuse for not having sooner thanked you for it, and it will likewise account for my having as yet read only the preface. but i now look forward with great pleasure to reading the whole immediately. if i then have any remarks worth sending, which is not very probable, i will write again. i am greatly pleased to see how boldly you express your belief in evolution, in the preface. i have sometimes thought that some of your countrymen have been a little timid in publishing their belief on this head, and have thus failed in aiding a good cause. letter . to r.g. whiteman. down, may th, . in the first edition of the "origin," after the sentence ending with the words "...insects in the water," i added the following sentence:-- "even in so extreme a case as this, if the supply of insects were constant, and if better adapted competitors did not already exist in the country, i can see no difficulty in a race of bears being rendered by natural selection more and more aquatic in their structures and habits, with larger and larger mouths, till a creature was produced as monstrous as a whale." ( / . see letters and .) this sentence was omitted in the subsequent editions, owing to the advice of prof. owen, as it was liable to be misinterpreted; but i have always regretted that i followed this advice, for i still think the view quite reasonable. letter . to a. hyatt. down, may th, . i am much obliged for your kind gift of "the genesis, etc." ( / . "the genesis of the tertiary species of planorbis," in the "boston soc. nat. hist. anniversary mem." .), which i shall be glad to read, as the case has always seemed to me a very curious one. it is all the kinder in you to send me this book, as i am aware that you think that i have done nothing to advance the good cause of the descent-theory. ( / . the above caused me to write a letter expressing a feeling of regret and humiliation, which i hope is still preserved, for certainly such a feeling, caused undoubtedly by my writings, which dealt too exclusively with disagreements upon special points, needed a strong denial. i have used the darwinian theory in many cases, especially in explaining the preservation of differences; and have denied its application only in the preservation of fixed and hereditary characteristics, which have become essentially homologous similarities. (note by prof. hyatt.)) ( / . we have ventured to quote the passage from prof. hyatt's reply, dated may rd, :-- "you would think i was insincere, if i wrote you what i really felt with regard to what you have done for the theory of descent. perhaps this essay will lead you to a more correct view than you now have of my estimate, if i can be said to have any claim to make an estimate of your work in this direction. you will not take offence, however, if i tell you that your strongest supporters can hardly give you greater esteem and honour. i have striven to get a just idea of your theory, but no doubt have failed to convey this in my publications as it ought to be done." we find other equally strong and genuine expressions of respect in prof. hyatt's letters.) letter . to lord farrer. ( / . mr. graham's book, the "creed of science," is referred to in "life and letters," i., page , where an interesting letter to the author is printed. with regard to chance, darwin wrote: "you have expressed my inward conviction, though far more clearly and vividly than i could have done, that the universe is not the result of chance.") down, august th, . i have been much interested by your letter, and am glad that you like mr. graham's book...( / . in lord farrer's letter of august th he refers to the old difficulty, in relation to design, of the existence of evil.) everything which i read now soon goes out of my head, and i had forgotten that he implies that my views explain the universe; but it is a most monstrous exaggeration. the more one thinks the more one feels the hopeless immensity of man's ignorance. though it does make one proud to see what science has achieved during the last half-century. this has been brought vividly before my mind by having just read most of the proofs of lubbock's address for york ( / . lord avebury was president of the british association in .), in which he will attempt to review the progress of all branches of science for the last fifty years. i entirely agree with what you say about "chance," except in relation to the variations of organic beings having been designed; and i imagine that mr. graham must have used "chance" in relation only to purpose in the origination of species. this is the only way i have used the word chance, as i have attempted to explain in the last two pages of my "variation under domestication." on the other hand, if we consider the whole universe, the mind refuses to look at it as the outcome of chance--that is, without design or purpose. the whole question seems to me insoluble, for i cannot put much or any faith in the so-called intuitions of the human mind, which have been developed, as i cannot doubt, from such a mind as animals possess; and what would their convictions or intuitions be worth? there are a good many points on which i cannot quite follow mr. graham. with respect to your last discussion, i dare say it contains very much truth; but i cannot see, as far as happiness is concerned, that it can apply to the infinite sufferings of animals--not only those of the body, but those of the mind--as when a mother loses her offspring or a male his female. if the view does not apply to animals, will it suffice for man? but you may well complain of this long and badly-expressed note in my dreadfully bad handwriting. the death of my brother erasmus is a very heavy loss to all of us in this family. he was so kind-hearted and affectionate. nor have i ever known any one more pleasant. it was always a very great pleasure to talk with him on any subject whatever, and this i shall never do again. the clearness of his mind always seemed to me admirable. he was not, i think, a happy man, and for many years did not value life, though never complaining. i am so glad that he escaped very severe suffering during his last few days. i shall never see such a man again. forgive me for scribbling this way, my dear farrer. letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . romanes had reviewed roux's "struggle of parts in the organism" in "nature," september th, , page . this led to an attack by the duke of argyll (october th, page ), followed by a reply by romanes (october th, page ), a rejoinder by the duke (november rd, page ), and finally by the letter of romanes (november th, page ) to which darwin refers. the duke's "flourish" is at page : "i wish mr. darwin's disciples would imitate a little of the dignified reticence of their master. he walks with a patient and a stately step along the paths of conscientious observation, etc., etc.") down, november th, . i must write to say how very much i admire your letter in the last "nature." i subscribe to every word that you say, and it could not be expressed more clearly or vigorously. after the duke's last letter and flourish about me i thought it paltry not to say that i agreed with what you had said. but after writing two folio pages i find i could not say what i wished to say without taking up too much space; and what i had written did not please me at all, so i tore it up, and now by all the gods i rejoice that i did so, for you have put the case incomparably better than i had done or could do. moreover, i hate controversy, and it wastes much time, at least with a man who, like myself, can work for only a short time in a day. how in the world you get through all your work astonishes me. now do not make me feel guilty by answering this letter, and losing some of your time. you ought not to swear at roux's book, which has led you into this controversy, for i am sure that your last letter was well worth writing--not that it will produce any effect on the duke. letter . to j. jenner weir. ( / . on december th, , mr. jenner weir wrote to mr. darwin: "after some hesitation in lieu of a christmas card, i venture to give you the return of some observations on mules made in spain during the last two years...it is a fact that the sire has the prepotency in the offspring, as has been observed by most writers on that subject, including yourself. the mule is more ass-like, and the hinny more horse-like, both in the respective lengths of the ears and the shape of the tail; but one point i have observed which i do not remember to have met with, and that is that the coat of the mule resembles that of its dam the mare, and that of the hinny its dam the ass, so that in this respect the prepotency of the sexes is reversed." the hermaphroditism in lepidoptera, referred to below, is said by mr. weir to occur notably in the case of the hybrids of smerinthus populi-ocellatus.) down, december th, . i thank you for your "christmas card," and heartily return your good wishes. what you say about the coats of mules is new to me, as is the statement about hermaphroditism in hybrid moths. this latter fact seems to me particularly curious; and to make a very wild hypothesis, i should be inclined to account for it by reversion to the primordial condition of the two sexes being united, for i think it certain that hybridism does lead to reversion. i keep fairly well, but have not much strength, and feel very old. letter . to r. meldola. down, february nd, . i am very sorry that i can add nothing to my very brief notice, without reading again weismann's work and getting up the whole subject by reading my own and other books, and for so much labour i have not strength. i have now been working at other subjects for some years, and when a man grows as old as i am, it is a great wrench to his brain to go back to old and half-forgotten subjects. you would not readily believe how often i am asked questions of all kinds, and quite lately i have had to give up much time to do a work, not at all concerning myself, but which i did not like to refuse. i must, however, somewhere draw the line, or my life will be a misery to me. i have read your preface, and it seems to me excellent. ( / . "studies in the theory of descent." by a. weismann. translated and edited by raphael meldola; with a prefatory notice by c. darwin and a translator's preface. see letter .) i am sorry in many ways, including the honour of england as a scientific country, that your translation has as yet sold badly. does the publisher or do you lose by it? if the publisher, though i shall be sorry for him, yet it is in the way of business; but if you yourself lose by it, i earnestly beg you to allow me to subscribe a trifle, viz., ten guineas, towards the expense of this work, which you have undertaken on public grounds. letter . to w. horsfall. down, february th, . in the succession of the older formations the species and genera of trilobites do change, and then they all die out. to any one who believes that geologists know the dawn of life (i.e., formations contemporaneous with the first appearance of living creatures on the earth) no doubt the sudden appearance of perfect trilobites and other organisms in the oldest known life-bearing strata would be fatal to evolution. but i for one, and many others, utterly reject any such belief. already three or four piles of unconformable strata are known beneath the cambrian; and these are generally in a crystalline condition, and may once have been charged with organic remains. with regard to animals and plants, the locomotive spores of some algae, furnished with cilia, would have been ranked with animals if it had not been known that they developed into algae. letter . to john collier. down, february th, . i must thank you for the gift of your art primer, which i have read with much pleasure. parts were too technical for me who could never draw a line, but i was greatly interested by the whole of the first part. i wish that you could explain why certain curved lines and symmetrical figures give pleasure. but will not your brother artists scorn you for showing yourself so good an evolutionist? perhaps they will say that allowance must be made for him, as he has allied himself to so dreadful a man as huxley. this reminds me that i have just been reading the last volume of essays. by good luck i had not read that on priestley ( / . "science and culture, and other essays": london, . the fifth essay is on joseph priestley (page ).), and it strikes me as the most splendid essay which i ever read. that on automatism ( / . essay ix. (page ) is entitled "on the hypothesis that animals are automata, and its history.") is wonderfully interesting: more is the pity, say i, for if i were as well armed as huxley i would challenge him to a duel on this subject. but i am a deal too wise to do anything of the kind, for he would run me through the body half a dozen times with his sharp and polished rapier before i knew where i was. i did not intend to have scribbled all this nonsense, but only to have thanked you for your present. everybody whom i have seen and who has seen your picture of me is delighted with it. i shall be proud some day to see myself suspended at the linnean society. ( / . the portrait painted by mr. collier hangs in the meeting-room of the linnean society.) chapter .vi.--geographical distribution, - . letter . to j.d. hooker. down, tuesday [december th, ]. i am very much obliged to you for your interesting letter. i have long been very anxious, even for as short a sketch as you have kindly sent me of the botanical geography of the southern hemisphere. i shall be most curious to see your results in detail. from my entire ignorance of botany, i am sorry to say that i cannot answer any of the questions which you ask me. i think i mention in my "journal" that i found my old friend the southern beech (i cannot say positively which species), on the mountain-top, in southern parts of chiloe and at level of sea in lat. deg, in chonos archipelago. would not the southern end of chiloe make a good division for you? i presume, from the collection of brydges and anderson, chiloe is pretty well-known, and southward begins a terra incognita. i collected a few plants amongst the chonos islands. the beech being found here and peat being found here, and general appearance of landscape, connects the chonos islands and t. del fuego. i saw the alerce ( / . "alerse" is the local name of a south american timber, described in capt. king's "voyages of the 'adventure' and 'beagle,'" page , and rather doubtfully identified with thuja tetragona, hook. ("flora antarctica," page .)) on mountains of chiloe (on the mainland it grows to an enormous size, and i always believed alerce and araucaria imbricata to be identical), but i am ashamed to say i absolutely forget all about its appearance. i saw some juniper-like bush in t. del fuego, but can tell you no more about it, as i presume that you have seen capt. king's collection in mr. brown's possession, provisionally for the british museum. i fear you will be much disappointed in my few plants: an ignorant person cannot collect; and i, moreover, lost one, the first, and best set of the alpine plants. on the other hand, i hope the galapagos plants ( / . see "life and letters," ii., pages , , for sir j.d. hooker's notes on the beginning of his friendship with mr. darwin, and for the latter's letter on the galapagos plants being placed in hooker's hands.) (judging from henslow's remarks) will turn out more interesting than you expect. pray be careful to observe, if i ever mark the individual islands of the galapagos islands, for the reasons you will see in my "journal." menzies and cumming were there, and there are some plants (i think mr. bentham told me) at the horticultural society and at the british museum. i believe i collected no plants at ascension, thinking it well-known. is not the similarity of plants of kerguelen land and southern s. america very curious? is there any instance in the northern hemisphere of plants being similar at such great distances? with thanks for your letter and for your having undertaken my small collection of plants, believe me, my dear sir, yours very truly, c. darwin. do remember my prayer, and write as well for botanical ignoramuses as for great botanists. there is a paper of carmichael ( / . "some account of the island of tristan da cunha and of its natural productions."--"linn. soc. trans." xii., , page .) on tristan d'acunha, which from the want of general remarks and comparison, i found [torn out] to me a dead letter.--i presume you will include this island in your views of the southern hemisphere. p.s.--i have been looking at my poor miserable attempt at botanical-landscape-remarks, and i see that i state that the species of beech which is least common in t. del fuego is common in the forest of central chiloe. but i will enclose for you this one page of my rough journal. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march st ( ). i have been a shameful time in returning your documents, but i have been very busy scientifically, and unscientifically in planting. i have been exceedingly interested in the details about the galapagos islands. i need not say that i collected blindly, and did not attempt to make complete series, but just took everything in flower blindly. the flora of the summits and bases of the islands appear wholly different; it may aid you in observing whether the different islands have representative species filling the same places in the economy of nature, to know that i collected plants from the lower and dry region in all the islands, i.e., in the chatham, charles, james, and albemarle (the least on the latter); and that i was able to ascend into the high and damp region only in james and charles islands; and in the former i think i got every plant then in flower. please bear this in mind in comparing the representative species. (you know that henslow has described a new opuntia from the galapagos.) your observations on the distribution of large mundane genera have interested me much; but that was not the precise point which i was curious to ascertain; it has no necessary relation to size of genus (though perhaps your statements will show that it has). it was merely this: suppose a genus with ten or more species, inhabiting the ten main botanical regions, should you expect that all or most of these ten species would have wide ranges (i.e. were found in most parts) in their respective countries? ( / . this point is discussed in a letter in "life and letters," volume ii., page , but not, we think in the "origin"; for letters on large genera containing many varieties see "life and letters," volume ii., pages - , also in the "origin," edition i., page , edition vi., page . in a letter of april th, , sir j.d. hooker gave his opinion: "on the whole i believe that many individual representative species of large genera have wide ranges, but i do not consider the fact as one of great value, because the proportion of such species having a wide range is not large compared with other representative species of the same genus whose limits are confined." it may be noted that in large genera the species often have small ranges ("origin," edition vi., page ), and large genera are more commonly wide-ranging than the reverse.) to give an example, the genus felis is found in every country except australia, and the individual species generally range over thousands of miles in their respective countries; on the other hand, no genus of monkey ranges over so large a part of the world, and the individual species in their respective countries seldom range over wide spaces. i suspect (but am not sure) that in the genus mus (the most mundane genus of all mammifers) the individual species have not wide ranges, which is opposed to my query. i fancy, from a paper by don, that some genera of grasses (i.e. juncus or juncaceae) are widely diffused over the world, and certainly many of their species have very wide ranges--in short, it seems that my question is whether there is any relation between the ranges of genera and of individual species, without any relation to the size of the genera. it is evident a genus might be widely diffused in two ways: st, by many different species, each with restricted ranges; and nd, by many or few species with wide ranges. any light which you could throw on this i should be very much obliged for. thank you most kindly, also, for your offer in a former letter to consider any other points; and at some future day i shall be most grateful for a little assistance, but i will not be unmerciful. swainson has remarked (and westwood contradicted) that typical genera have wide ranges: waterhouse (without knowing these previous remarkers) made to me the same observation: i feel a laudable doubt and disinclination to believe any statement of swainson; but now waterhouse remarks it, i am curious on the point. there is, however, so much vague in the meaning of "typical forms," and no little ambiguity in the mere assertion of "wide ranges" (for zoologists seldom go into strict and disagreeable arithmetic, like you botanists so wisely do) that i feel very doubtful, though some considerations tempt me to believe in this remark. here again, if you can throw any light, i shall be much obliged. after your kind remarks i will not apologise for boring you with my vague queries and remarks. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. happy christmas to you. ( / . the following letter refers to notes by sir j.d. hooker which we have not seen. though we are therefore unable to make clear many points referred to, the letter seems to us on the whole so interesting that it is printed with the omission of only one unimportant sentence. the subjects dealt with in the letter are those which were occupying hooker's attention in relation to his "flora antarctica" ( ).) i must thank you once again for all your documents, which have interested me very greatly and surprised me. i found it very difficult to charge my head with all your tabulated results, but this i perfectly well know is in main part due to that head not being a botanical one, aided by the tables being in ms.; i think, however, to an ignoramus, they might be made clearer; but pray mind, that this is very different from saying that i think botanists ought to arrange their highest results for non-botanists to understand easily. i will tell you how, for my individual self, i should like to see the results worked out, and then you can judge, whether this be advisable for the botanical world. looking at the globe, the auckland and campbell i., new zealand, and van diemen's land so evidently are geographically related, that i should wish, before any comparison was made with far more distant countries, to understand their floras, in relation to each other; and the southern ones to the northern temperate hemisphere, which i presume is to every one an almost involuntary standard of comparison. to understand the relation of the floras of these islands, i should like to see the group divided into a northern and southern half, and to know how many species exist in the latter-- . belonging to genera confined to australia, van diemen's land and north new zealand. . belonging to genera found only on the mountains of australia, van diemen's land, and north new zealand. . belonging to genera of distribution in many parts of the world (i.e., which tell no particular story). . belonging to genera found in the northern hemisphere and not in the tropics; or only on mountains in the tropics. i daresay all this (as far as present materials serve) could be extracted from your tables, as they stand; but to any one not familiar with the names of plants, this would be difficult. i felt particularly the want of not knowing which of the genera are found in the lowland tropics, in understanding the relation of the antarctic with the arctic floras. if the fuegian flora was treated in the analogous way (and this would incidentally show how far the cordillera are a high-road of genera), i should then be prepared far more easily and satisfactorily to understand the relations of fuegia with the auckland islands, and consequently with the mountains of van diemen's land. moreover, the marvellous facts of their intimate botanical relation (between fuegia and the auckland islands, etc.) would stand out more prominently, after the auckland islands had been first treated of under the purely geographical relation of position. a triple division such as yours would lead me to suppose that the three places were somewhat equally distant, and not so greatly different in size: the relation of van diemen's land seems so comparatively small, and that relation being in its alpine plants, makes me feel that it ought only to be treated of as a subdivision of the large group, including auckland, campbell, new zealand... i think a list of the genera, common to fuegia on the one hand and on the other to campbell, etc., and to the mountains of van diemen's land or new zealand (but not found in the lowland temperate, and southern tropical parts of south america and australia, or new zealand), would prominently bring out, at the same time, the relation between these antarctic points one with another, and with the northern or arctic regions. in article iii. is it meant to be expressed, or might it not be understood by this article, that the similarity of the distant points in the antarctic regions was as close as between distant points in the arctic regions? i gather this is not so. you speak of the southern points of america and australia, etc., being "materially approximated," and this closer proximity being correlative with a greater similarity of their plants: i find on the globe, that van diemen's land and fuegia are only about one-fifth nearer than the whole distance between port jackson and concepcion in chile; and again, that campbell island and fuegia are only one-fifth nearer than the east point of north new zealand and concepcion. now do you think in such immense distances, both over open oceans, that one-fifth less distance, say , miles instead of , , can explain or throw much light on a material difference in the degree of similarity in the floras of the two regions? i trust you will work out the new zealand flora, as you have commenced at end of letter: is it not quite an original plan? and is it not very surprising that new zealand, so much nearer to australia than south america, should have an intermediate flora? i had fancied that nearly all the species there were peculiar to it. i cannot but think you make one gratuitous difficulty in ascertaining whether new zealand ought to be classed by itself, or with australia or south america--namely, when you seem (bottom of page of your letter) to say that genera in common indicate only that the external circumstances for their life are suitable and similar. ( / . on december th, , sir j.d. hooker replied, "nothing was further from my intention than to have written anything which would lead one to suppose that genera common to two places indicate a similarity in the external circumstances under which they are developed, though i see i have given you excellent grounds for supposing that such were my opinions.") surely, cannot an overwhelming mass of facts be brought against such a proposition? distant parts of australia possess quite distinct species of marsupials, but surely this fact of their having the same marsupial genera is the strongest tie and plainest mark of an original (so-called) creative affinity over the whole of australia; no one, now, will (or ought) to say that the different parts of australia have something in their external conditions in common, causing them to be pre-eminently suitable to marsupials; and so on in a thousand instances. though each species, and consequently genus, must be adapted to its country, surely adaptation is manifestly not the governing law in geographical distribution. is this not so? and if i understand you rightly, you lessen your own means of comparison--attributing the presence of the same genera to similarity of conditions. you will groan over my very full compliance with your request to write all i could on your tables, and i have done it with a vengeance: i can hardly say how valuable i must think your results will be, when worked out, as far as the present knowledge and collections serve. now for some miscellaneous remarks on your letter: thanks for the offer to let me see specimens of boulders from cockburn island; but i care only for boulders, as an indication of former climate: perhaps ross will give some information... watson's paper on the azores ( / . h.c. watson, "london journal of botany," - .) has surprised me much; do you not think it odd, the fewness of peculiar species, and their rarity on the alpine heights? i wish he had tabulated his results; could you not suggest to him to draw up a paper of such results, comparing these islands with madeira? surely does not madeira abound with peculiar forms? a discussion on the relations of the floras, especially the alpine ones, of azores, madeira, and canary islands, would be, i should think, of general interest. how curious, the several doubtful species, which are referred to by watson, at the end of his paper; just as happens with birds at the galapagos...any time that you can put me in the way of reading about alpine floras, i shall feel it as the greatest kindness. i grieve there is no better authority for bourbon, than that stupid bory: i presume his remark that plants, on isolated volcanic islands are polymorphous (i.e., i suppose, variable?) is quite gratuitous. farewell, my dear hooker. this letter is infamously unclear, and i fear can be of no use, except giving you the impression of a botanical ignoramus. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march th [ ]. ...i was very glad to hear humboldt's views on migrations and double creations. it is very presumptuous, but i feel sure that though one cannot prove extensive migration, the leading considerations, proper to the subject, are omitted, and i will venture to say even by humboldt. i should like some time to put the case, like a lawyer, for your consideration, in the point of view under which, i think, it ought to be viewed. the conclusion which i come to is, that we cannot pretend, with our present knowledge, to put any limit to the possible, and even probable, migration of plants. if you can show that many of the fuegian plants, common to europe, are found in intermediate points, it will be a grand argument in favour of the actuality of migration; but not finding them will not, in my eyes, much diminish the probability of their having thus migrated. my pen always runs away, in writing to you; and a most unsteady, vilely bad pace it goes. what would i not give to write simple english, without having to rewrite and rewrite every sentence. letter . to j.d. hooker. friday [june th, ]. i have been an ungrateful dog for not having answered your letter sooner, but i have been so hard at work correcting proofs ( / . the second edition of the "journal."), together with some unwellness, that i have not had one quarter of an hour to spare. i finally corrected the first third of the old volume, which will appear on july st. i hope and think i have somewhat improved it. very many thanks for your remarks; some of them came too late to make me put some of my remarks more cautiously. i feel, however, still inclined to abide by my evaporation notion to account for the clouds of steam, which rise from the wooded valleys after rain. again, i am so obstinate that i should require very good evidence to make me believe that there are two species of polyborus ( / . polyborus novae zelandiae, a carrion hawk mentioned as very common in the falklands.) in the falkland islands. do the gauchos there admit it? much as i talked to them, they never alluded to such a fact. in the zoology i have discussed the sexual and immature plumage, which differ much. i return the enclosed agreeable letter with many thanks. i am extremely glad of the plants collected at st. paul's, and shall be particularly curious whenever they arrive to hear what they are. i dined the other day at sir j. lubbock's, and met r. brown, and we had much laudatory talk about you. he spoke very nicely about your motives in now going to edinburgh. he did not seem to know, and was much surprised at what i stated (i believe correctly) on the close relation between the kerguelen and t. del fuego floras. forbes is doing apparently very good work about the introduction and distribution of plants. he has forestalled me in what i had hoped would have been an interesting discussion--viz., on the relation between the present alpine and arctic floras, with connection to the last change of climate from arctic to temperate, when the then arctic lowland plants must have been driven up the mountains. ( / . forbes' essay "on the connection between the distribution of the existing fauna and flora of the british isles and the geological changes which have affected their area," was published in . see note, letter .) i am much pleased to hear of the pleasant reception you received at edinburgh. ( / . sir j.d. hooker was a candidate for the chair of botany at edinburgh. see "life and letters," i., pages , .) i hope your impressions will continue agreeable; my associations with auld reekie are very friendly. do you ever see dr. coldstream? if you do, would you give him my kind remembrances? you ask about amber. i believe all the species are extinct (i.e. without the amber has been doctored), and certainly the greater number are. ( / . for an account of plants in amber see goeppert and berendt, "der bernstein und die in ihm befindlichen pflanzenreste der vorwelt," berlin, ; goeppert, "coniferen des bernstein," danzig, ; conwentz, "monographie der baltischen bernsteinbaume," danzig, .) if you have any other corrections ready, will you send them soon, for i shall go to press with second part in less than a week. i have been so busy that i have not yet begun d'urville, and have read only first chapter of canary islands! i am most particularly obliged to you for having lent me the latter, for i know not where else i could have ever borrowed it. there is the "kosmos" to read, and lyell's "travels in north america." it is awful to think of how much there is to read. what makes h. watson a renegade? i had a talk with captain beaufort the other day, and he charged me to keep a book and enter anything which occurred to me, which deserved examination or collection in any part of the world, and he would sooner or later get it in the instructions to some ship. if anything occurs to you let me hear, for in the course of a month or two i must write out something. i mean to urge collections of all kinds on any isolated islands. i suspect that there are several in the northern half of the pacific, which have never been visited by a collector. this is a dull, untidy letter. farewell. as you care so much for insular floras, are you aware that i collected all in flower on the abrolhos islands? but they are very near the coast of brazil. nevertheless, i think they ought to be just looked at, under a geographical point of view. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november [ ]. i have just got as far as lycopodium in your flora, and, in truth, cannot say enough how much i have been interested in all your scattered remarks. i am delighted to have in print many of the statements which you made in your letters to me, when we were discussing some of the geographical points. i can never cease marvelling at the similarity of the antarctic floras: it is wonderful. i hope you will tabulate all your results, and put prominently what you allude to (and what is pre-eminently wanted by non-botanists like myself), which of the genera are, and which not, found in the lowland or in the highland tropics, as far as known. out of the very many new observations to me, nothing has surprised me more than the absence of alpine floras in the s[outh] islands. ( / . see "flora antarctica," i., page , where the author says that "in the south...on ascending the mountains, few or no new forms occur." with regard to the sandwich islands, sir joseph wrote (page ) that "though the volcanic islands of the sandwich group attain a greater elevation than this [ , feet], there is no such development of new species at the upper level." more recent statements to the same effect occur in grisebach, "vegetation der erde," volume ii., page . see also wallace, "island life," page .) it strikes me as most inexplicable. do you feel sure about the similar absence in the sandwich group? is it not opposed quite to the case of teneriffe and madeira, and mediterranean islands? i had fancied that t. del fuego had possessed a large alpine flora! i should much like to know whether the climate of north new zealand is much more insular than tasmania. i should doubt it from general appearance of places, and yet i presume the flora of the former is far more scanty than of tasmania. do tell me what you think on this point. i have also been particularly interested by all your remarks on variation, affinities, etc.: in short, your book has been to me a most valuable one, and i must have purchased it had you not most kindly given it, and so rendered it even far more valuable to me. when you compare a species to another, you sometimes do not mention the station of the latter (it being, i presume, well-known), but to non-botanists such words of explanation would add greatly to the interest--not that non-botanists have any claim at all for such explanations in professedly botanical works. there is one expression which you botanists often use (though, i think, not you individually often), which puts me in a passion--viz., calling polleniferous flowers "sterile," as non-seed-bearing. ( / . see letter .) are the plates from your own drawings? they strike me as excellent. so now you have had my presumptuous commendations on your great work. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, friday [ - ]. it is quite curious how our opinions agree about forbes' views. ( / . see letter .) i was very glad to have your last letter, which was even more valuable to me than most of yours are, and that is saying, i assure you, a great deal. i had written to forbes to object about the azores ( / . edward forbes supposed that the azores, the madeiras, and canaries "are the last remaining fragments" of a continent which once connected them with western europe and northern spain. lyell's "principles," edition xi., volume ii., page . see forbes, op. cit.) on the same grounds as you had, and he made some answer, which partially satisfied me, but really i am so stupid i cannot remember it. he insisted strongly on the fewness of the species absolutely peculiar to the azores--most of the non-european species being common to madeira. i had thought that a good sprinkling were absolutely peculiar. till i saw him last wednesday i thought he had not a leg to stand on in his geology about his post-miocene land; and his reasons, upon reflection, seem rather weak: the main one is that there are no deposits (more recent than the miocene age) on the miocene strata of malta, etc., but i feel pretty sure that this cannot be trusted as evidence that malta must have been above water during all the post-miocene period. he had one other reason, to my mind still less trustworthy. i had also written to forbes, before your letter, objecting to the sargassum ( / . edward forbes supposed that the sargassum or gulf-weed represents the littoral sea-weeds of a now submerged continent. "mem. geol. survey great britain," volume i., , page . see lyell's "principles," ii., page , edition xi.), but apparently on wrong grounds, for i could see no reason, on the common view of absolute creations, why one fucus should not have been created for the ocean, as well as several confervae for the same end. it is really a pity that forbes is quite so speculative: he will injure his reputation, anyhow, on the continent; and thus will do less good. i find this is the opinion of falconer, who was with us on sunday, and was extremely agreeable. it is wonderful how much heterogeneous information he has about all sorts of things. i the more regret forbes cannot more satisfactorily prove his views, as i heartily wish they were established, and to a limited extent i fully believe they are true; but his boldness is astounding. do i understand your letter right, that west africa ( / . this is of course a misunderstanding.) and java belong to the same botanical region--i.e., that they have many non-littoral species in common? if so, it is a sickening fact: think of the distance with the indian ocean interposed! do some time answer me this. with respect to polymorphism, which you have been so very kind as to give me so much information on, i am quite convinced it must be given up in the sense you have discussed it in; but from such cases as the galapagos birds and from hypothetical notions on variation, i should be very glad to know whether it must be given up in a slightly different point of view; that is, whether the peculiar insular species are generally well and strongly distinguishable from the species on the nearest continent (when there is a continent near); the galapagos, canary islands, and madeira ought to answer this. i should have hypothetically expected that a good many species would have been fine ones, like some of the galapagos birds, and still more so on the different islands of such groups. i am going to ask you some questions, but i should really sometimes almost be glad if you did not answer me for a long time, or not at all, for in honest truth i am often ashamed at, and marvel at, your kindness in writing such long letters to me. so i beg you to mind, never to write to me when it bores you. do you know "elements de teratologie (on monsters, i believe) vegetale," par a. moquin tandon"? ( / . paris, .) is it a good book, and will it treat on hereditary malconformations or varieties? i have almost finished the tremendous task of pages of a. st. hilaire's lectures ( / . "lecons de botanique," .), which you set me, and very glad i am that you told me to read it, for i have been much interested with parts. certain expressions which run through the whole work put me in a passion: thus i take, at hazard, "la plante n'etait pas tout a fait assez affaiblie pour produire de veritables carpelles." every organ or part concerned in reproduction--that highest end of all lower organisms--is, according to this man, produced by a lesser or greater degree of "affaiblissement"; and if that is not an affaiblissement of language, i don't know what is. i have used an expression here, which leads me to ask another question: on what sort of grounds do botanists make one family of plants higher than another? i can see that the simplest cryptogamic are lowest, and i suppose, from their relations, the monocotyledonous come next; but how in the different families of the dicotyledons? the point seems to me equally obscure in many races of animals, and i know not how to tell whether a bee or cicindela is highest. ( / . on use of terms "high" and "low" see letters and .) i see aug. hilaire uses a multiplicity of parts--several circles of stamens, etc.--as evidence of the highness of the ranunculaceae; now owen has truly, as i believe, used the same argument to show the lowness of some animals, and has established the proposition, that the fewer the number of any organ, as legs or wings or teeth, by which the same end is gained, the higher the animal. one other question. hilaire says (page ) that "chez une foule de plantes c'est dans le bouton," that impregnation takes place. he instances only goodenia ( / . for letters on this point, see index s.v. goodenia.), and falconer cannot recollect any cases. do you know any of this "foule" of plants? from reasons, little better than hypothetical, i greatly misdoubt the accuracy of this, presumptuous as it is; that plants shed their pollen in the bud is, of course, quite a different story. can you illuminate me? henslow will send the galapagos scraps to you. i direct this to kew, as i suppose, after your sister's marriage (on which i beg to send you my congratulations), you will return home. there are great fears that falconer will have to go out to india--this will be a grievous loss to palaeontology. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. i was much pleased to see and sign your certificate for the geolog[ical society]; we shall thus occasionally, i hope, meet. ( / . sir joseph was elected a fellow of the geological society in .) i have been an ungrateful dog not to have thanked you before this for the cake and books. the children and their betters pronounced the former excellent, and annie wanted to know whether it was the gentleman "what played with us so." i wish we were at a more reasonable distance, that emma and myself could have called on lady hooker with our congratulations on this occasion. it was very good of you to put in both numbers of the "hort. journal." i think dean herbert's article well worth reading. i have been so extravagant as to order m[oquin] tandon ( / . probably "elements de teratologie vegetale": paris, .), for though i have not found, as yet, anything particularly novel or striking, yet i found that i wished to score a good many passages so as to re-read them at some future time, and hence have ordered the book. consequently i hope soon to send back your books. i have sent off the ascension plants through bunsen to ehrenberg. there was much in your last long letter which interested me much; and i am particularly glad that you are going to attend to polymorphism in our last and incorrect sense in your works; i see that it must be most difficult to take any sort of constant limit for the amount of possible variation. how heartily i do wish that all your works were out and complete; so that i could quietly think over them. i fear the pacific islands must be far distant in futurity. i fear, indeed, that forbes is going rather too quickly ahead; but we shall soon see all his grounds, as i hear he is now correcting the press on this subject; he has plenty of people who attack him; i see falconer never loses a chance, and it is wonderful how well forbes stands it. what a very striking fact is the botanical relation between africa and java; as you now state it, i am pleased rather than disgusted, for it accords capitally with the distribution of the mammifers ( / . see wallace, "geogr. distribution," volume i., page , on the "special oriental or even malayan element" in the west african mammals and birds.): only that i judge from your letters that the cape differs even more markedly than i had thought, from the rest of africa, and much more than the mammifers do. i am surprised to find how well mammifers and plants seem to accord in their general distribution. with respect to my strong objection to aug. st. hilaire's language on affaiblissement ( / . this refers to his "lecons de botanique (morphologie vegetale)," . saint-hilaire often explains morphological differences as due to differences in vigour. see letter .), it is perhaps hardly rational, and yet he confesses that some of the most vigorous plants in nature have some of their organs struck with this weakness--he does not pretend, of course, that they were ever otherwise in former generations--or that a more vigorously growing plant produces organs less weakened, and thus fails in producing its typical structure. in a plant in a state of nature, does cutting off the sap tend to produce flower-buds? i know it does in trees in orchards. owen has been doing some grand work in the morphology of the vertebrata: your arm and hand are parts of your head, or rather the processes (i.e. modified ribs) of the occipital vertebra! he gave me a grand lecture on a cod's head. by the way, would it not strike you as monstrous, if in speaking of the minute and lessening jaws, palpi, etc., of an insect or crustacean, any one were to say they were produced by the affaiblissement of the less important but larger organs of locomotion. i see from your letter (though i do not suppose it is worth referring to the subject) that i could not have expressed what i meant when i allowed you to infer that owen's rule of single organs being of a higher order than multiple organs applied only to locomotive, etc.; it applies to every the most important organ. i do not doubt that he would say the placentata having single wombs, whilst the marsupiata have double ones, is an instance of this law. i believe, however, in most instances where one organ, as a nervous centre or heart, takes the places of several, it rises in complexity; but it strikes me as really odd, seeing in this instance eminent botanists and zoologists starting from reverse grounds. pray kindly bear in mind about impregnation in bud: i have never (for some years having been on the look-out) heard of an instance: i have long wished to know how it was in subularia, or some such name, which grows on the bottom of scotch lakes, and likewise in a grassy plant, which lives in brackish water, i quite forget name, near thames; elder botanists doubted whether it was a phanerogam. when we meet i will tell you why i doubt this bud-impregnation. we are at present in a state of utmost confusion, as we have pulled all our offices down and are going to rebuild and alter them. i am personally in a state of utmost confusion also, for my cruel wife has persuaded me to leave off snuff for a month; and i am most lethargic, stupid, and melancholy in consequence. farewell, my dear hooker. ever yours. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. thank you for your list of r.s. candidates, which will be very useful to me. i have thought a good deal about my salting experiments ( / . for an account of darwin's experiments on the effect of salt water on the germination of seeds, see "life and letters," ii., page . in april he wrote to the "gardeners' chronicle" asking for information, and his results were published in the same journal, may th and november th, ; also in the "linn. soc. journal," .), and really think they are worth pursuing to a certain extent; but i hardly see the use (at least, the use equivalent to the enormous labour) of trying the experiment on the immense scale suggested by you. i should think a few seeds of the leading orders, or a few seeds of each of the classes mentioned by you, with albumen of different kinds would suffice to show the possibility of considerable sea-transportal. to tell whether any particular insular flora had thus been transported would require that each species should be examined. will you look through these printed lists, and if you can, mark with red cross such as you would suggest? in truth, i fear i impose far more on your great kindness, my dear hooker, than i have any claim; but you offered this, for i never thought of asking you for more than a suggestion. i do not think i could manage more than forty or fifty kinds at a time, for the water, i find, must be renewed every other day, as it gets to smell horribly: and i do not think your plan good of little packets of cambric, as this entangles so much air. i shall keep the great receptacle with salt water with the forty or fifty little bottles, partly open, immersed in it, in the cellar for uniform temperature. i must plant out of doors, as i have no greenhouse. i told you i had inserted notice in the "gardeners' chronicle," and to-day i have heard from berkeley that he has already sent an assortment of seeds to margate for some friend to put in salt water; so i suppose he thinks the experiment worth trying, as he has thus so very promptly taken it into his own hands. ( / . rev. m.j. berkeley published on the subject in the "gardeners' chronicle," september st, .) reading this over, it sounds as if i were offended!!! which i need not say is not so. ( / . added afterwards between the lines.) i may just mention that the seeds mentioned in my former note have all germinated after fourteen days' immersion, except the cabbages all dead, and the radishes have had their germination delayed and several i think dead; cress still all most vigorous. french spinach, oats, barley, canary-seed, borage, beet have germinated after seven days' immersion. it is quite surprising that the radishes should have grown, for the salt water was putrid to an extent which i could not have thought credible had i not smelt it myself, as was the water with the cabbage-seed. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, june th [ ]. if being thoroughly interested with your letters makes me worthy of them, i am very worthy. i have raised some seedling sensitive plants, but if you can readily spare me a moderately sized plant, i shall be glad of it. you encourage me so, that i will slowly go on salting seeds. i have not, i see, explained myself, to let you suppose that i objected to such cases as the former union of england and the continent; i look at this case as proved by animals, etc., etc.; and, indeed, it would be an astounding fact if the land had kept so steady as that they had not been united, with snowdon elevated , feet in recent times, etc., etc. it is only against the former union with the oceanic volcanic islands that i am vehement. ( / . see "life and letters," volume ii., pages , , , .) what a perplexing case new zealand does seem: is not the absence of leguminosae, etc., etc., fully as much opposed to continental connexion as to any other theory? what a curious fact you state about distribution and lowness going together. the presence of a frog in new zealand seems to me a strongish fact for continental connexion, for i assume that sea water would kill spawn, but i shall try. the spawn, i find, will live about ten days out of water, but i do not think it could possibly stick to a bird. what you say about no one realising creation strikes me as very true; but i think and hope that there is nearly as much difference between trying to find out whether species of a genus have had a common ancestor and concerning oneself with the first origin of life, as between making out the laws of chemical attraction and the first origin of matter. i thought that gray's letter had come open to you, and that you had read it: you will see what i asked--viz., for habitats of the alpine plants, but i presume there will be nothing new to you. please return both. how pleasantly gray takes my request, and i think i shall have done a good turn if i make him write a paper on geographical distribution of plants of united states. i have written him a very long letter, telling him some of the points about which i should feel curious. but on my life it is sublimely ridiculous, my making suggestions to such a man. i cannot help thinking that what you say about low plants being widely distributed and standing injurious conditions better than higher ones (but is not this most difficult to show?) is equally favourable to sea-transport, to continental connexions, and all other means. pray do not suppose that i fancy that if i could show that nearly all seeds could stand an almost indefinite period of immersion in sea-water, that i have done more than one extremely small step in solving the problem of distribution, for i can quite appreciate the importance of the fact you point out; and then the directions of currents in past and present times have to be considered!! i shall be very curious to hear berkeley's results in the salting line. with respect to geological changes, i ought to be one of the last men to undervalue them after my map of coral islands, and after what i have seen of elevation on coast of america. farewell. i hope my letters do not bother you. again, and for the last time, i say that i should be extremely vexed if ever you write to me against the grain or when tired. letter . to j.s henslow. down, july nd [ ]. very many thanks for all you have done, and so very kindly promise to do for me. will you make a present to each of the little girls (if not too big and grandiose) of six pence (for which i send stamps), who are going to collect seeds for me: viz., lychnis, white, red, and flesh-colour (if such occur). ...will you be so kind as to look at them before sent, just to see positively that they are correct, for remember how ignorant botanically i am. do you see the "gardeners' chronicle," and did you notice some little experiments of mine on salting seeds? celery and onion seed have come up after eighty-five days' immersion in the salt water, which seems to me surprising, and i think throws some light on the wide dispersion of certain plants. now, it has occurred to me that it would be an interesting way of testing the probability of sea-transportal of seeds, to make a list of all the european plants found in the azores--a very oceanic archipelago--collect the seeds, and try if they would stand a pretty long immersion. do you think the most able of your little girls would like to collect for me a packet of seeds of such azorean plants as grow near hitcham, i paying, say pence for each packet: it would put a few shillings into their pockets, and would be an enormous advantage to me, for i grudge the time to collect the seeds, more especially as i have to learn the plants! the experiment seems to me worth trying: what do you think? should you object offering for me this reward or payment to your little girls? you would have to select the most conscientious ones, that i might not get wrong seeds. i have just been comparing the lists, and i suspect you would not have very many of the azorean plants. you have, however, ranunculus repens, ranunculus parviflorus, papaver rhoeas,? papaver dubium,? chelidonium majus,? fumaria officinalis.? all these are azorean plants. with respect to cultivating plants, i mean to begin on very few, for i may find it too troublesome. i have already had for some months primroses and cowslips, strongly manured with guano, and with flowers picked off, and one cowslip made to grow in shade; and next spring i shall collect seed. i think you have quite misunderstood me in regard to my object in getting you to mark in accompanying list with (x) all the "close species" ( / . see letter .) i.e., such as you do not think to be varieties, but which nevertheless are very closely allied; it has nothing whatever to do with their cultivation, but i cannot tell you [my] object, as it might unconsciously influence you in marking them. will you draw your pencil right through all the names of those (few) species, of which you may know nothing. afterwards, when done, i will tell you my object--not that it is worth telling, though i myself am very curious on the subject. i know and can perceive that the definition of "close species" is very vague, and therefore i should not care for the list being marked by any one, except by such as yourself. forgive this long letter. i thank you heartily for all your assistance. my dear old master, yours affectionately, c. darwin. perhaps pence would be hardly enough, and if the number of kinds does not turn out very great it shall be pence per packet. letter . asa gray to charles darwin. ( / . in reply to darwin's letter, june th, , given in "life and letters," ii., page .) harvard university, cambridge, u.s., june th, . your long letter of the th inst. is full of interest to me, and i shall follow out your hints as far as i can. i rejoice in furnishing facts to others to work up in their bearing on general questions, and feel it the more my duty to do so inasmuch as from preoccupation of mind and time and want of experience i am unable to contribute direct original investigations of the sort to the advancement of science. your request at the close of your letter, which you have such needless hesitation in making, is just the sort of one which it is easy for me to reply to, as it lies directly in my way. it would probably pass out of my mind, however, at the time you propose, so i will attend to it at once, to fill up the intervals of time left me while attending to one or two pupils. so i take some unbound sheets of a copy of the "manual," and mark off the "close species" by connecting them with a bracket. those thus connected, some of them, i should in revision unite under one, many more dr. hooker would unite, and for the rest it would not be extraordinary if, in any case, the discovery of intermediate forms compelled their union. as i have noted on the blank page of the sheets i send you (through sir william hooker), i suppose that if we extended the area, say to that of our flora of north america, we should find that the proportion of "close species" to the whole flora increased considerably. but here i speak at a venture. some day i will test it for a few families. if you take for comparison with what i send you, the "british flora," or koch's "flora germanica," or godron's "flora of france," and mark the "close species" on the same principle, you will doubtless find a much greater number. of course you will not infer from this that the two floras differ in this respect; since the difference is probably owing to the facts that ( ) there have not been so many observers here bent upon detecting differences; and ( ) our species, thanks mostly to dr. torrey and myself, have been more thoroughly castigated. what stands for one species in the "manual" would figure in almost any european flora as two, three, or more, in a very considerable number of cases. in boldly reducing nominal species j. hooker is doing a good work; but his vocation--like that of any other reformer--exposes him to temptations and dangers. because you have shown that a and b are so connected by intermediate forms that we cannot do otherwise than regard them as variations of one species, we may not conclude that c and d, differing much in the same way and to the same degree, are of one species, before an equal amount of evidence is actually obtained. that is, when two sets of individuals exhibit any grave differences, the burden of proof of their common origin lies with the person who takes that view; and each case must be decided on its own evidence, and not on analogy, if our conclusions in this way are to be of real value. of course we must often jump at conclusions from imperfect evidence. i should like to write an essay on species some day; but before i should have time to do it, in my plodding way, i hope you or hooker will do it, and much better far. i am most glad to be in conference with hooker and yourself on these matters, and i think we may, or rather you may, in a few years settle the question as to whether agassiz's or hooker's views are correct; they are certainly widely different. apropos to this, many thanks for the paper containing your experiments on seeds exposed to sea water. why has nobody thought of trying the experiment before, instead of taking it for granted that salt water kills seeds? i shall have it nearly all reprinted in "silliman's journal" as a nut for agassiz to crack. letter . to asa gray. down, may nd [ ?] i have received your very kind note of april th. in truth it is preposterous in me to give you hints; but it will give me real pleasure to write to you just as i talk to hooker, who says my questions are sometimes suggestive owing to my comparing the ranges, etc., in different kingdoms of nature. i will make no further apologies about my presumption; but will just tell you (though i am certain there will be very little new in what i suggest and ask) the points on which i am very anxious to hear about. i forget whether you include arctic america, but if so, for comparison with other parts of world, i would exclude the arctic and alpine-arctic, as belonging to a quite distinct category. when excluding the naturalised, i think de candolle must be right in advising the exclusion (giving list) of plants exclusively found in cultivated land, even when it is not known that they have been introduced by man. i would give list of temperate plants (if any) found in eastern asia, china, and japan, and not elsewhere. nothing would give me a better idea of the flora of united states than the proportion of its genera to all the genera which are confined to america; and the proportion of genera confined to america and eastern asia with japan; the remaining genera would be common to america and europe and the rest of world; i presume it would be impossible to show any especial affinity in genera, if ever so few, between america and western europe. america might be related to eastern asia (always excluding arctic forms) by a genus having the same species confined to these two regions; or it might be related by the genus having different species, the genus itself not being found elsewhere. the relation of the genera (excluding identical species) seems to me a most important element in geographical distribution often ignored, and i presume of more difficult application in plants than in animals, owing to the wider ranges of plants; but i find in new zealand (from hooker) that the consideration of genera with representative species tells the story of relationship even plainer than the identity of the species with the different parts of the world. i should like to see the genera of the united states, say (excluding arctic and alpine) divided into three classes, with the proportions given thus:-- / american genera; / old world genera, but not having any identical species in common; / old world genera, but having some identical species in common; supposing that these genera included u.s. plants, then the would be the denominator to the fraction of the species common to the old world. but i am running on at a foolish length. there is an interesting discussion in de candolle (about pages - ) on the relation of the size of families to the average range of the individual species; i cannot but think, from some facts which i collected long before de candolle appeared, that he is on wrong scent in having taken families (owing to their including too great a diversity in the constitution of the species), but that if he had taken genera, he would have found that the individual species in large genera range over a greater area than do the species in small genera: i think if you have materials that this would be well worth working out, for it is a very singular relation. with respect to naturalised plants: are any social with you, which are not so in their parent country? i am surprised that the importance of this has not more struck de candolle. of these naturalised plants are any or many more variable in your opinion than the average of your united states plants? i am aware how very vague this must be; but de candolle has stated that the naturalised plants do not present varieties; but being very variable and presenting distinct varieties seems to me rather a different case: if you would kindly take the trouble to answer this question i should be very much obliged, whether or no you will enter on such points in your essay. with respect to such plants, which have their southern limits within your area, are the individuals ever or often stunted in their growth or unhealthy? i have in vain endeavoured to find any botanist who has observed this point; but i have seen some remarks by barton on the trees in united states. trees seem in this respect to behave rather differently from other plants. it would be a very curious point, but i fear you would think it out of your essay, to compare the list of european plants in tierra del fuego (in hooker) with those in north america; for, without multiple creation, i think we must admit that all now in t. del fuego must have travelled through north america, and so far they do concern you. the discussion on social plants (vague as the terms and facts are) in de candolle strikes me as the best which i have ever seen: two points strike me as eminently remarkable in them; that they should ever be social close to their extreme limits; and secondly, that species having an extremely confined range, yet should be social where they do occur: i should be infinitely obliged for any cases either by letter or publicly on these heads, more especially in regard to a species remaining or ceasing to be social on the confines of its range. there is one other point on which i individually should be extremely much obliged, if you could spare the time to think a little bit and inform me: viz., whether there are any cases of the same species being more variable in united states than in other countries in which it is found, or in different parts of the united states? wahlenberg says generally that the same species in going south become more variable than in extreme north. even still more am i anxious to know whether any of the genera, which have most of their species horribly variable (as rubus or hieracium are) in europe, or other parts of the world, are less variable in the united states; or, the reverse case, whether you have any odious genera with you which are less odious in other countries? any information on this head would be a real kindness to me. i suppose your flora is too great; but a simple list in close columns in small type of all the species, genera, and families, each consecutively numbered, has always struck me as most useful; and hooker regrets that he did not give such list in introduction to new zealand and other flora. i am sure i have given you a larger dose of questions than you bargained for, and i have kept my word and treated you just as i do hooker. nevertheless, if anything occurs to me during the next two months, i will write freely, believing that you will forgive me and not think me very presumptuous. how well de candolle shows the necessity of comparing nearly equal areas for proportion of families! i have re-read this letter, and it is really not worth sending, except for my own sake. i see i forgot, in beginning, to state that it appeared to me that the six heads of your essay included almost every point which could be desired, and therefore that i had little to say. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . on july th, , darwin wrote to sir j.d. hooker:-- "i am going mad and am in despair over your confounded antarctic island flora. will you read over the tristan list, and see if my remarks on it are at all accurate. i cannot make out why you consider the vegetation so fuegian.") down, th [july, ]. i do hope that this note may arrive in time to save you trouble in one respect. i am perfectly ashamed of myself, for i find in introduction to flora of fuegia ( / . "flora antarctica," page . "though only , miles distant from the cape of good hope, and , from the strait of magalhaens, the botany of this island [tristan d'acunha] is far more intimately allied to that of fuegia than africa." hooker goes on to say that only phylica and pelargonium are cape forms, while seven species, or one-quarter of the flora, "are either natives of fuegia or typical of south american botany, and the ferns and lycopodia exhibit a still stronger affinity.") a short discussion on tristan plants, which though scored [i.e. marked in pencil] i had quite forgotten at the time, and had thought only of looking into introduction to new zealand flora. it was very stupid of me. in my sketch i am forced to pick out the most striking cases of species which favour the multiple creation doctrine, without indeed great continental extensions are admitted. of the many wonderful cases in your books, the one which strikes me most is that list of species, which you made for me, common to new zealand and america, and confined to southern hemisphere; and in this list those common to chile and new zealand seem to me the most wondrous. i have copied these out and enclosed them. now i will promise to ask no more questions, if you will tell me a little about these. what i want to know is, whether any or many of them are mountain plants of chile, so as to bring them in some degree (like the chonos plants) under the same category with the fuegian plants? i see that all the genera (edwardsia even having sandwich island and indian species) are wide-ranging genera, except myosurus, which seems extra wonderful. do any of these genera cling to seaside? are the other species of these genera wide rangers? do be a good christian and not hate me. i began last night to re-read your galapagos paper, and to my taste it is quite admirable: i see in it some of the points which i thought best in a. de candolle! such is my memory. lyell will not express any opinion on continental extensions. ( / . see letters , .) letter . to c. lyell. down, july th [ ]. very many thanks for your two notes, and especially for maury's map: also for books which you are going to lend me. i am sorry you cannot give any verdict on continental extensions; and i infer that you think my argument of not much weight against such extensions; i know i wish i could believe. ( / . this paragraph is published in the "life and letters," ii., page ; it refers to a letter (june th, , "life and letters," ii., page ) giving darwin's arguments against the doctrine of "continental extension." see letters , .) i have been having a look at maury (which i once before looked at), and in respect to madeira & co. i must say, that the chart seems to me against land-extension explaining the introduction of organic beings. madeira, the canaries and azores are so tied together, that i should have thought they ought to have been connected by some bank, if changes of level had been connected with their organic relation. the azores ought, too, to have shown more connection with america. i had sometimes speculated whether icebergs could account for the greater number of european plants and their more northern character on the azores, compared with madeira; but it seems dangerous until boulders are found there. ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page , for a letter (april th, ) in which darwin exults over the discovery of boulders on the azores and the fulfilment of the prophecy, which he was characteristically half inclined to ascribe to lyell.) one of the more curious points in maury is, as it strikes me, in the little change which about , feet of sudden elevation would make in the continent visible, and what a prodigious change , feet subsidence would make! is the difference due to denudation during elevation? certainly , feet elevation would make a prodigious change. i have just been quoting you in my essay on ice carrying seeds in the southern hemisphere, but this will not do in all the cases. i have had a week of such hard labour in getting up the relations of all the antarctic flora from hooker's admirable works. oddly enough, i have just finished in great detail, giving evidence of coolness in tropical regions during the glacial epoch, and the consequent migration of organisms through the tropics. there are a good many difficulties, but upon the whole it explains much. this has been a favourite notion with me, almost since i wrote on erratic boulders of the south. it harmonises with the modification of species; and without admitting this awful postulate, the glacial epoch in the south and tropics does not work in well. about atlantis, i doubt whether the canary islands are as much more related to the continent as they ought to be, if formerly connected by continuous land. hooker, with whom i have formerly discussed the notion of the world or great belts of it having been cooler, though he at first saw great difficulties (and difficulties there are great enough), i think is much inclined to adopt the idea. with modification of specific forms it explains some wondrous odd facts in distribution. but i shall never stop if i get on this subject, on which i have been at work, sometimes in triumph, sometimes in despair, for the last month. letter . asa gray to charles darwin. received august th, . i enclose you a proof of the last page, that you may see what our flora amounts to. the genera of the cryptogams (ferns down to hepaticae) are illustrated in fourteen crowded plates. so that the volume has become rather formidable as a class-book, which it is intended for. i have revised the last proofs to-day. the publishers will bring it out some time in august. meanwhile, i am going to have a little holiday, which i have earned, little as i can spare the time for it. and my wife and i start on friday to visit my mother and friends in west new york, and on our way back i will look in upon the scientific meeting at albany on the th inst., or later, just to meet some old friends there. why could not you come over, on the urgent invitation given to european savans--and free passage provided back and forth in the steamers? yet i believe nobody is coming. will you not come next year, if a special invitation is sent you on the same terms? boott lately sent me your photograph, which (though not a very perfect one) i am well pleased to have... but there is another question in your last letter--one about which a person can only give an impression--and my impression is that, speaking of plants of a well-known flora, what we call intermediate varieties are generally less numerous in individuals than the two states which they connect. that this would be the case in a flora where things are put as they naturally should be, i do not much doubt; and the wider are your views about species (say, for instance, with dr. hooker's very latitudinarian notions) the more plainly would this appear. but practically two things stand hugely in the way of any application of the fact or principle, if such it be. . our choice of what to take as the typical forms very often is not free. we take, e.g., for one of them the particular form of which linnaeus, say, happened to have a specimen sent him, and on which [he] established the species; and i know more than one case in which that is a rare form of a common species; the other variety will perhaps be the opposite extreme--whether the most common or not, or will be what l. or [illegible] described as a nd species. here various intermediate forms may be the most abundant. . it is just the same thing now, in respect to specimens coming in from our new western country. the form which first comes, and is described and named, determines the specific character, and this long sticks as the type, though in fact it may be far from the most common form. yet of plants very well known in all their aspects, i can think of several of which we recognise two leading forms, and rarely see anything really intermediate, such as our mentha borealis, its hairy and its smooth varieties. your former query about the variability of naturalised plants as compared with others of same genera, i had not forgotten, but have taken no steps to answer. i was going hereafter to take up our list of naturalised plants and consider them--it did not fall into my plan to do it yet. off-hand i can only say that it does not strike me that our introduced plants generally are more variable, nor as variable, perhaps, as the indigenous. but this is a mere guess. when you get my sheets of first part of article in "silliman's journal," remember that i shall be most glad of free critical comments; and the earlier i get them the greater use they will be to me... one more favour. do not, i pray you, speak of your letters troubling me. i should be sorry indeed to have you stop, or write more rarely, even though mortified to find that i can so seldom give you the information you might reasonably expect. letter . to asa gray. down, august th [ ]. i am much obliged for your letter, which has been very interesting to me. your "indefinite" answers are perhaps not the least valuable part; for botany has been followed in so much more a philosophical spirit than zoology, that i scarcely ever like to trust any general remark in zoology without i find that botanists concur. thus, with respect to intermediate varieties being rare, i found it put, as i suspected, much too strongly (without the limitations and doubts which you point out) by a very good naturalist, mr. wollaston, in regard to insects; and if it could be established as true it would, i think, be a curious point. your answer in regard to the introduced plants not being particularly variable, agrees with an answer which mr. h.c. watson has sent me in regard to british agrarian plants, or such (whether or no naturalised) [as] are now found only in cultivated land. it seems to me very odd, without any theoretical notions of any kind, that such plants should not be variable; but the evidence seems against it. very sincere thanks for your kind invitation to the united states: in truth there is nothing which i should enjoy more; but my health is not, and will, i suppose, never be strong enough, except for the quietest routine life in the country. i shall be particularly glad of the sheets of your paper on geographical distribution; but it really is unlikely in the highest degree that i could make any suggestions. with respect to my remark that i supposed that there were but few plants common to europe and the united states, not ranging to the arctic regions; it was founded on vague grounds, and partly on range of animals. but i took h.c. watson's remarks ( ) and in the table at the end i found that out of plants believed to be common to the old and new world, only did not range on either side of the atlantic up to the arctic region. and on writing to mr. watson to ask whether he knew of any plants not ranging northward of britain (say deg) which were in common, he writes to me that he imagines there are very few; with mr. syme's assistance he found some to species thus circumstanced, but many of them, from one cause or other, he considered doubtful. as examples, he specifies to me, with doubt, chrysosplenium oppositifolium; isnardia palustris; astragalus hypoglottis; thlaspi alpestre; arenaria verna; lythrum hyssopifolium. i hope that you will be inclined to work out for your next paper, what number, of your in common, do not range to arctic regions. such plants seem exposed to such much greater difficulties in diffusion. very many thanks for all your kindness and answers to my questions. p.s.--if anything should occur to you on variability of naturalised or agrarian plants, i hope that you will be so kind as to let me hear, as it is a point which interests me greatly. letter . asa gray to charles darwin. cambridge, mass., september rd, . dr. engelmann, of st. louis, missouri, who knew european botany well before he came here, and has been an acute observer generally for twenty years or more in this country, in reply to your question i put to him, promptly said introduced plants are not particularly variable--are not so variable as the indigenous plants generally, perhaps. the difficulty of answering your questions, as to whether there are any plants social here which are not so in the old world, is that i know so little about european plants in nature. the following is all i have to contribute. lately, i took engelmann and agassiz on a botanical excursion over half a dozen miles of one of our seaboard counties; when they both remarked that they never saw in europe altogether half so much barberry as in that trip. through all this district b. vulgaris may be said to have become a truly social plant in neglected fields and copses, and even penetrating into rather close old woods. i always supposed that birds diffused the seeds. but i am not clear that many of them touch the berries. at least, these hang on the bushes over winter in the greatest abundance. perhaps the barberry belongs to a warmer country than north of europe, and finds itself more at home in our sunny summers. yet out of new england it seems not to spread at all. maruta cotula, fide engelmann, is a scattered and rather scarce plant in germany. here, from boston to st. louis, it covers the roadsides, and is one of our most social plants. but this plant is doubtless a native of a hotter country than north germany. st. john's-wort (hypericum perforatum) is an intrusive weed in all hilly pastures, etc., and may fairly be called a social plant. in germany it is not so found, fide engelmann. verbascum thapsus is diffused over all the country, is vastly more common here than in germany, fide engelmann. i suppose erodium cicutarium was brought to america with cattle from spain: it seems to be widely spread over south america out of the tropics. in atlantic u.s. it is very scarce and local. but it fills california and the interior of oregon quite back to the west slope of the rocky mountains. fremont mentions it as the first spring food for his cattle when he reached the western side of the rocky mountains. and hardly anybody will believe me when i declare it an introduced plant. i daresay it is equally abundant in spain. i doubt if it is more so. engelmann and i have been noting the species truly indigenous here which, becoming ruderal or campestral, are increasing in the number of individuals instead of diminishing as the country becomes more settled and forests removed. the list of our wild plants which have become true weeds is larger than i had supposed, and these have probably all of them increased their geographical range--at least, have multiplied in numbers in the northern states since settlements. some time ago i sent a copy of the first part of my little essay on the statistics ( / . "statistics of the flora of the northern u.s." ("silliman's journal," xxii. and xxiii.)) of our northern states plants to trubner & co., , paternoster row, to be thence posted to you. it may have been delayed or failed, so i post another from here. this is only a beginning. range of species in latitude must next be tabulated--disjoined species catalogued (i.e. those occurring in remote and entirely separated areas--e.g. phryma, monotropa uniflora, etc.)--then some of the curious questions you have suggested--the degree of consanguinity between the related species of our country and other countries, and the comparative range of species in large and small genera, etc., etc. now, is it worth while to go on at this length of detail? there is no knowing how much space it may cover. yet, after all, facts in all their fullness is what is wanted, and those not gathered to support (or even to test) any foregone conclusions. it will be prosy, but it may be useful. then i have no time properly to revise mss. and correct oversights. to my vexation, in my short list of our alpine species i have left out, in some unaccountable manner, two of the most characteristic--viz., cassiope hypnoides and loiseleuria procumbens. please add them on page . there is much to be said about our introduced plants. but now, and for some time to come, i must be thinking of quite different matters. i mean to continue this essay in the january number--for which my mss. must be ready about the st of november. i have not yet attempted to count them up; but of course i am prepared to believe that fully three-fourths of our species common to europe will [be] found to range northward to the arctic regions. i merely meant that i had in mind a number that do not; i think the number will not be very small; and i thought you were under the impression that very few absolutely did not so extend northwards. the most striking case i know is that of convallaria majalis, in the mountains [of] virginia and north carolina, and not northward. i believe i mentioned this to you before. letter . to asa gray. down, october th [ ]. i received yesterday your most kind letter of the rd and your "statistics," and two days previously another copy. i thank you cordially for them. botanists write, of course, for botanists; but, as far as the opinion of an "outsider" goes, i think your paper admirable. i have read carefully a good many papers and works on geographical distribution, and i know of only one essay (viz. hooker's "new zealand") that makes any approach to the clearness with which your paper makes a non-botanist appreciate the character of the flora of a country. it is wonderfully condensed (what labour it must have required!). you ask whether such details are worth giving: in my opinion, there is literally not one word too much. i thank you sincerely for the information about "social" and "varying plants," and likewise for giving me some idea about the proportion (i.e. / th) of european plants which you think do not range to the extreme north. this proportion is very much greater than i had anticipated, from what i picked up in conversation, etc. to return to your "statistics." i daresay you will give how many genera (and orders) your introduced plants belong to. i see they include genera non-indigenous. as you have probably a list of the introduced plants, would it be asking too great a favour to send me, per hooker or otherwise, just the total number of genera and orders to which the introduced plants belong. i am much interested in this, and have found de candolle's remarks on this subject very instructive. nothing has surprised me more than the greater generic and specific affinity with east asia than with west america. can you tell me (and i will promise to inflict no other question) whether climate explains this greater affinity? or is it one of the many utterly inexplicable problems in botanical geography? is east asia nearly as well known as west america? so that does the state of knowledge allow a pretty fair comparison? i presume it would be impossible, but i think it would make in one point your tables of generic ranges more clear (admirably clear as they seem to me) if you could show, even roughly, what proportion of the genera in common to europe (i.e. nearly half) are very general or mundane rangers. as your results now stand, at the first glance the affinity seems so very strong to europe, owing, as i presume, to nearly half of the genera including very many genera common to the world or large portions of it. europe is thus unfairly exalted. is this not so? if we had the number of genera strictly, or nearly strictly european, one could compare better with asia and southern america, etc. but i dare say this is a utopian wish, owing to difficulty of saying what genera to call mundane; nor have i my ideas at all clear on the subject, and i have expressed them even less clearly than i have them. i am so very glad that you intend to work out the north range of the european species; for it seems to me the by far most important element in their distribution. and i am equally glad that you intend to work out range of species in regard to size of genera--i.e. number of species in genus. i have been attempting to do this in a very few cases, but it is folly for any one but a botanist to attempt it. i must think that de candolle has fallen into error in attempting to do this for orders instead of for genera--for reasons with which i will not trouble you. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the "verdict" referred to in the following letter was sir j.d. hooker's opinion on darwin's ms. on geographical distribution. the first paragraph has been already published in "life and letters," ii., page .) down, november th [ ]. i thank you more cordially than you will think probable for your note. your verdict has been a great relief. on my honour i had no idea whether or not you would say it was (and i knew you would say it very kindly) so bad, that you would have begged me to have burnt the whole. to my own mind my ms. relieved me of some few difficulties, and the difficulties seemed to me pretty fairly stated; but i had become so bewildered with conflicting facts--evidence, reasoning and opinions--that i felt to myself that i had lost all judgment. your general verdict is incomparably more favourable than i had anticipated. very many thanks for your invitation. i had made up my mind, on my poor wife's account, not to come up to next phil. club; but i am so much tempted by your invitation, and my poor dear wife is so good-natured about it, that i think i shall not resist--i.e., if she does not get worse. i would come to dinner at about same time as before, if that would suit you, and i do not hear to the contrary; and would go away by the early train--i.e., about o'clock. i find my present work tries me a good deal, and sets my heart palpitating, so i must be careful. but i should so much like to see henslow, and likewise meet lindley if the fates will permit. you will see whether there will be time for any criticism in detail on my ms. before dinner: not that i am in the least hurry, for it will be months before i come again to geographical distribution; only i am afraid of your forgetting any remarks. i do not know whether my very trifling observations on means of distribution are worth your reading, but it amuses me to tell them. the seeds which the eagle had in [its] stomach for eighteen hours looked so fresh that i would have bet five to one that they would all have grown; but some kinds were all killed, and two oats, one canary-seed, one clover, and one beet alone came up! now i should have not cared swearing that the beet would not have been killed, and i should have fully expected that the clover would have been. these seeds, however, were kept for three days in moist pellets, damp with gastric juice, after being ejected, which would have helped to have injured them. lately i have been looking, during a few walks, at excrement of small birds. i have found six kinds of seeds, which is more than i expected. lastly, i have had a partridge with twenty-two grains of dry earth on one foot, and to my surprise a pebble as big as a tare seed; and i now understand how this is possible, for the bird scratches itself, [and the] little plumous feathers make a sort of very tenacious plaister. think of the millions of migratory quails ( / . see "origin," edition i., page , where the millions of migrating quails occur again.), and it would be strange if some plants have not been transported across good arms of the sea. talking of this, i have just read your curious raoul island paper. ( / . "linn. soc. journal." i., .) this looks more like a case of continuous land, or perhaps of several intervening, now lost, islands than any (according to my heterodox notions) i have yet seen. the concordance of the vegetation seems so complete with new zealand, and with that land alone. i have read salter's paper and can hardly stomach it. i wonder whether the lighters were ever used to carry grain and hay to ships. ( / . salter, "linn. soc. journal," i., , page , "on the vitality of seeds after prolonged immersion in the sea." it appears that in the mud was scraped from the bottom of the channels in poole harbour, and carried to shore in barges. on this mud a vegetation differing from that of the surrounding shore sprang up.) adios, my dear hooker. i thank you most honestly for your assistance--assistance, by the way, now spread over some dozen years. p.s.--wednesday. i see from my wife's expression that she does not really much like my going, and therefore i must give up, of course, this pleasure. if you should have anything to discuss about my ms., i see that i could get to you by about , and then could return by the . o'clock train, and be home by . o'clock, and thus i should get two hours' talk. but it would be a considerable exertion for me, and i would not undertake it for mere pleasure's sake, but would very gladly for my book's sake. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. november th, . i have finished the reading of your ms., and have been very much delighted and instructed. your case is a most strong one, and gives me a much higher idea of change than i had previously entertained; and though, as you know, never very stubborn about unalterability of specific type, i never felt so shaky about species before. the first half you will be able to put more clearly when you polish up. i have in several cases made pencil alterations in details as to words, etc., to enable myself to follow better,--some of it is rather stiff reading. i have a page or two of notes for discussion, many of which were answered, as i got further on with the ms., more or less fully. your doctrine of the cooling of the tropics is a startling one, when carried to the length of supporting plants of cold temperate regions; and i must confess that, much as i should like it, i can hardly stomach keeping the tropical genera alive in so very cool a greenhouse [pencil note by c.d., "not so very cool, but northern ones could range further south if not opposed"]. still i must confess that all your arguments pro may be much stronger put than you have. i am more reconciled to iceberg transport than i was, the more especially as i will give you any length of time to keep vitality in ice, and more than that, will let you transport roots that way also. ( / . the above letter was pinned to the following note by mr. darwin.) in answer to this show from similarity of american, and european and alpine-arctic plants, that they have travelled enormously without any change. as sub-arctic, temperate and tropical are all slowly marching toward the equator, the tropical will be first checked and distressed, similarly ( / . almost illegible.) the temperate will invade...; after the temperate can [not] advance or do not wish to advance further the arctics will be checked and will invade. the temperates will have been far longer in tropics than sub-arctics. the sub-arctics will first have to cross temperate [zone] and then tropics. they would penetrate among strangers, just like the many naturalised plants brought by man, from some unknown advantage. but more, for nearly all have chance of doing so. ( / . the point of view is more clearly given in the following letters.) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. i shall not consider all your notes on my ms. for some weeks, till i have done with crossing; but i have not been able to stop myself meditating on your powerful objection to the mundane cold period ( / . see letter .), viz. that many-fold more of the warm-temperate species ought to have crossed the tropics than of the sub-arctic forms. i really think that to those who deny the modification of species this would absolutely disprove my theory. but according to the notions which i am testing--viz. that species do become changed, and that time is a most important element (which i think i shall be able to show very clearly in this case)--in such change, i think, the result would be as follows. some of the warm-temperate forms would penetrate the tropics long before the sub-arctic, and some might get across the equator long before the sub-arctic forms could do so (i.e. always supposing that the cold came on slowly), and therefore these must have been exposed to new associates and new conditions much longer than the sub-arctic. hence i should infer that we ought to have in the warm-temperate s. hemisphere more representative or modified forms, and fewer identical species than in comparing the colder regions of the n. and s. i have expressed this very obscurely, but you will understand, i think, what i mean. it is a parallel case (but with a greater difference) to the species of the mountains of s. europe compared with the arctic plants, the s. european alpine species having been isolated for a longer period than on the arctic islands. whether there are many tolerably close species in the warm-temperate lands of the s. and n. i know not; as in la plata, cape of good hope, and s. australia compared to the north, i know not. i presume it would be very difficult to test this, but perhaps you will keep it a little before your mind, for your argument strikes me as by far the most serious difficulty which has occurred to me. all your criticisms and approvals are in simple truth invaluable to me. i fancy i am right in speaking in this note of the species in common to n. and s. as being rather sub-arctic than arctic. this letter does not require any answer. i have written it to ease myself, and to get you just to bear your argument, under the modification point of view, in mind. i have had this morning a most cruel stab in the side on my notion of the distribution of mammals in relation to soundings. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, sunday [november ]. i write only to say that i entirely appreciate your answer to my objection on the score of the comparative rareness of northern warm-temperate forms in the southern hemisphere. you certainly have wriggled out of it by getting them more time to change, but as you must admit that the distance traversed is not so great as the arctics have to travel, and the extremes of modifying cause not so great as the arctics undergo, the result should be considerably modified thereby. thus: the sub-arctics have ( ) to travel twice as far, ( ) taking twice the time, ( ) undergoing many more disturbing influences. all this you have to meet by giving the north temperate forms simply more time. i think this will hardly hold water. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. many thanks for your note received this morning; and now for another "wriggle." according to my notions, the sub-arctic species would advance in a body, advancing so as to keep climate nearly the same; and as long as they did this i do not believe there would be any tendency to change, but only when the few got amongst foreign associates. when the tropical species retreated as far as they could to the equator they would halt, and then the confusion would spread back in the line of march from the far north, and the strongest would struggle forward, etc., etc. (but i am getting quite poetical in my wriggles). in short, i think the warm-temperates would be exposed very much longer to those causes which i believe are alone efficient in producing change than the sub-arctic; but i must think more over this, and have a good wriggle. i cannot quite agree with your proposition that because the sub-arctic have to travel twice as far they would be more liable to change. look at the two journeys which the arctics have had from n. to s. and s. to n., with no change, as may be inferred, if my doctrine is correct, from similarity of arctic species in america and europe and in the alps. but i will not weary you; but i really and truly think your last objection is not so strong as it looks at first. you never make an objection without doing me much good. hurrah! a seed has just germinated after / hours in owl's stomach. this, according to ornithologists' calculation, would carry it god knows how many miles; but i think an owl really might go in storm in this time or miles. adios. owls and hawks have often been seen in mid-atlantic. ( / . an interesting letter, dated november rd, , occurs in the "life and letters," ii., page , which forms part of this discussion. on page the following passage occurs: "i shall have to discuss and think more about your difficulty of the temperate and sub-arctic forms in the s. hemisphere than i have yet done. but i am inclined to think that i am right (if my general principles are right), that there would be little tendency to the formation of a new species during the period of migration, whether shorter or longer, though considerable variability may have supervened.) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. it is a most tiresome drawback to my satisfaction in writing that, though i leave out a good deal and try to condense, every chapter runs to such an inordinate length. my present chapter on the causes of fertility and sterility and on natural crossing has actually run out to pages ms., and yet i do not think i have put in anything superfluous... i have for the last fifteen months been tormented and haunted by land-mollusca, which occur on every oceanic island; and i thought that the double creationists or continental extensionists had here a complete victory. the few eggs which i have tried both sink and are killed. no one doubts that salt water would be eminently destructive to them; and i was really in despair, when i thought i would try them when torpid; and this day i have taken a lot out of the sea-water, after exactly seven days' immersion. ( / . this method of dispersal is not given in the "origin"; it seems, therefore, probable that further experiments upset the conclusion drawn in . this would account for the satisfaction expressed in the following year at the discovery of another method, on which darwin wrote to sir j.d. hooker: "the distribution of fresh-water molluscs has been a horrid incubus to me, but i think i know my way now. when first hatched they are very active, and i have had thirty or forty crawl on a dead duck's foot; and they cannot be jerked off, and will live fifteen or even twenty-four hours out of water" ("life and letters," ii., page ). the published account of these experiments is in the "origin," edition i., page .) some sink and some swim; and in both cases i have had (as yet) one come to life again, which has quite astonished and delighted me. i feel as if a thousand-pound weight was taken off my back. adios, my dear, kind friend. i must tell you another of my profound experiments! [frank] said to me: "why should not a bird be killed (by hawk, lightning, apoplexy, hail, etc.) with seed in its crop, and it would swim?" no sooner said than done: a pigeon has floated for thirty days in salt water with seeds in its crop, and they have grown splendidly; and to my great surprise even tares (leguminosae, so generally killed by sea-water), which the bird had naturally eaten, have grown well. you will say gulls and dog-fish, etc., would eat up the carcase, and so they would times out of a thousand, but one might escape: i have seen dead land-birds in sea-drift. letter . asa gray to charles darwin. ( / . in reply to darwin's letter given in "life and letters," ii., page .) cambridge, mass., february th, . i meant to have replied to your interesting letter of january st long before this time, and also that of november th, which i doubt if i have ever acknowledged. but after getting my school-book, lessons in botany, off my hands--it taking up time far beyond what its size would seem to warrant--i had to fall hard at work upon a collection of small size from japan--mostly n. japan, which i am only just done with. as i expected, the number of species common to n. america is considerably increased in this collection, as also the number of closely representative species in the two, and a pretty considerable number of european species too. i have packed off my mss. (though i hardly know what will become of it), or i would refer you to some illustrations. the greater part of the identical species (of japan and n. america) are of those extending to or belonging to n.w. coast of america, but there are several peculiar to japan and e. u. states: e.g. our viburnum lantanoides is one of thunberg's species. de candolle's remarkable case of phryma, which he so dwells upon, turns out, as dr. hooker said it would, to be only one out of a great many cases of the same sort. (hooker brought monotropa uniflora, you know, from the himalayas; and now, by the way, i have it from almost as far south, i.e., from st. fee, new granada)... well, i never meant to draw any conclusions at all, and am very sorry that the only one i was beguiled into should "rile" ( / . "one of your conclusions makes me groan, viz., that the line of connection of the strictly alpine plants is through greenland. i should extremely like to see your reasons published in detail, for it 'riles' me (this is a proper expression, is it not?) dreadfully" (darwin to gray, january st, , "life and letters," ii., page ).) you, as you say it does,--that on page of my second article: for if it troubles you it is not likely to be sound. of course i had no idea of laying any great stress upon the fact (at first view so unexpected to me) that one-third of our alpine species common to europe do not reach the arctic circle; but the remark which i put down was an off-hand inference from what you geologists seem to have settled--viz., that the northern regions must have been a deal cooler than they are now--the northern limit of vegetation therefore much lower than now--about the epoch when it would seem probable that the existing species of our plants were created. at any rate, during the glacial period there could have been no phaenogamous plants on our continent anywhere near the polar regions; and it seems a good rule to look in the first place for the cause or reason of what now is, in that which immediately preceded. i don't see that greenland could help us much, but if there was any interchange of species between n. america and n. europe in those times, was not the communication more likely to be in lower latitudes than over the pole? if, however, you say--as you may have very good reasons for saying--that the existing species got their present diffusion before the glacial epoch, i should have no answer. i suppose you must needs assume very great antiquity for species of plants in order to account for their present dispersion, so long as we cling--as one cannot but do--to the idea of the single birthplace of species. i am curious to see whether, as you suggest, there would be found a harmony or close similarity between the geographical range in this country of the species common to europe and those strictly representative or strictly congeneric with european species. if i get a little time i will look up the facts: though, as dr. hooker rightly tells me, i have no business to be running after side game of any sort, while there is so much i have to do--much more than i shall ever do probably--to finish undertakings i have long ago begun. ...as to your p.s. if you have time to send me a longer list of your protean genera, i will say if they seem to be protean here. of those you mention:-- salix, i really know nothing about. rubus, the n. american species, with one exception, are very clearly marked indeed. mentha, we have only one wild species; that has two pretty well-marked forms, which have been taken for species; one smooth, the other hairy. saxifraga, gives no trouble here. myosotis, only one or two species here, and those very well marked. hieracium, few species, but pretty well marked. rosa, putting down a set of nominal species, leaves us four; two of them polymorphous, but easy to distinguish... letter . to j.d. hooker. down, [ ?] one must judge by one's own light, however imperfect, and as i have found no other book ( / . a. de candolle's "geographie botanique," .) so useful to me, i am bound to feel grateful: no doubt it is in main part owing to the concentrated light of the noble art of compilation. ( / . see letter .) i was aware that he was not the first who had insisted on range of monocots. (was not r. brown [with] flinders?) ( / . m. flinders' "voyage to terra australis in - , in h.m.s. 'investigator'"; with "botanical appendix," by robert brown, london, .), and i fancy i only used expression "strongly insisted on,"--but it is quite unimportant. if you and i had time to waste, i should like to go over his [de candolle's] book and point out the several subjects in which i fancy he is original. his remarks on the relations of naturalised plants will be very useful to me; on the ranges of large families seemed to me good, though i believe he has made a great blunder in taking families instead of smaller groups, as i have been delighted to find in a. gray's last paper. but it is no use going on. i do so wish i could understand clearly why you do not at all believe in accidental means of dispersion of plants. the strongest argument which i can remember at this instant is a. de c., that very widely ranging plants are found as commonly on islands as over continents. it is really provoking to me that the immense contrast in proportion of plants in new zealand and australia seems to me a strong argument for non-continuous land; and this does not seem to weigh in the least with you. i wish i could put myself in your frame of mind. in madeira i find in wollaston's books a parallel case with your new zealand case--viz., the striking absence of whole genera and orders now common in europe, and (as i have just been hunting out) common in europe in miocene periods. of course i can offer no explanation why this or that group is absent; but if the means of introduction have been accidental, then one might expect odd proportions and absences. when we meet, do try and make me see more clearly than i do, your reasons. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. i am heartily glad to hear that my lyellian notes have been of the slightest use to you. ( / . the copley medal was given to sir charles lyell in . mr. darwin supplied sir j.d. hooker, who was on the council of the royal society, with notes for the reasons for the award. see letter .) i do not think the view is exaggerated... your letter and lists have most deeply interested me. first for less important point, about hermaphrodite trees. ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page . in the "origin," edition i., page , the author quotes dr. hooker to the effect that "the rule does not hold in australia," i.e., that trees are not more generally unisexual than other plants. in the th edition, page , darwin adds, "but if most of the australian trees are dichogamous, the same result would follow as if they bore flowers with separated sexes.") it is enough to knock me down, yet i can hardly think that british n. america and new zealand should all have been theoretically right by chance. have you at kew any eucalyptus or australian mimosa which sets its seeds? if so, would it be very troublesome to observe when pollen is mature, and whether pollen-tubes enter stigma readily immediately that pollen is mature or some little time afterwards? though if pollen is not mature for some little time after flower opens, the stigma might be ready first, though according to c.c. sprengel this is a rarer case. i wrote to muller for chance of his being able and willing to observe this. your fact of greater number of european plants (n.b.--but do you mean greater percentage?) in australia than in s. america is astounding and very unpleasant to me; for from n.w. america (where nearly the same flora exists as in canada?) to t. del fuego, there is far more continuous high land than from europe to tasmania. there must have, i should think, existed some curious barrier on american high-road: dryness of peru, excessive damp of panama, or some other confounded cause, which either prevented immigration or has since destroyed them. you say i may ask questions, and so i have on enclosed paper; but it will of course be a very different thing whether you will think them worth labour of answering. may i keep the lists now returned? otherwise i will have them copied. you said that you would give me a few cases of australian forms and identical species going north by malay archipelago mountains to philippines and japan; but if these are given in your "introduction" this will suffice for me. ( / . see hooker's "introductory essay," page l.) your lists seem to me wonderfully interesting. according to my theoretical notions, i am not satisfied with what you say about local plants in s.w. corner of australia ( / . sir joseph replied in an undated letter: "thanks for your hint. i shall be very cautious how i mention any connection between the varied flora and poor soil of s.w. australia...it is not by the way only that the species are so numerous, but that these and the genera are so confoundedly well marked. you have, in short, an incredible number of very local, well marked genera and species crowded into that corner of australia." see "introductory essay to the flora of tasmania," , page li.), and the seeds not readily germinating: do be cautious on this; consider lapse of time. it does not suit my stomach at all. it is like wollaston's confined land-snails in porto santo, and confined to same spots since a tertiary period, being due to their slow crawling powers; and yet we know that other shell-snails have stocked a whole country within a very few years with the same breeding powers, and same crawling powers, when the conditions have been favourable to the life of the introduced species. hypothetically i should rather look at the case as owing to--but as my notions are not very simple or clear, and only hypothetical, they are not worth inflicting on you. i had vowed not to mention my everlasting abstract ( / . the "origin of species" was abbreviated from the ms. of an unpublished book.) to you again, for i am sure i have bothered you far more than enough about it; but as you allude to its previous publication i may say that i have chapters on instinct and hybridism to abstract, which may take a fortnight each; and my materials for palaeontology, geographical distribution and affinities being less worked up, i daresay each of these will take me three weeks, so that i shall not have done at soonest till april, and then my abstract will in bulk make a small volume. i never give more than one or two instances, and i pass over briefly all difficulties, and yet i cannot make my abstract shorter, to be satisfactory, than i am now doing, and yet it will expand to small volume. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [november?] th [ ]. what you say about the cape flora's direct relation to australia is a great trouble to me. does not abyssinia highland, ( / . in a letter to darwin, december st (?), , sir j.d. hooker wrote: "highlands of abyssinia will not help you to connect the cape and australian temperate floras: they want all the types common to both, and, worse than that, india notably wants them. proteaceae, thymeleae, haemodoraceae, acacia, rutaceae, of closely allied genera (and in some cases species), are jammed up in s.w. australia, and c.b.s. [cape of good hope]: add to this the epacrideae (which are mere (paragraph symbol) of ericaceae) and the absence or rarity of rasaceae, etc., etc., and you have an amount [of] similarity in the floras and dissimilarity to that of abyssinia and india in the same features that does demand an explanation in any theoretical history of southern vegetation."), and the mountains on w. coast in some degree connect the extra-tropical floras of cape and australia? to my mind the enormous importance of the glacial period rises daily stronger and stronger. i am very glad to hear about s.e. and s.w. australia: i suspected after my letter was gone that the case must be as it is. you know of course that nearly the same rule holds with birds and mammals. several years ago i reviewed in the "annals of natural history," ( / . "annals and mag. of nat. hist." volume xix., , pages - , an unsigned review of "a natural history of the mammalia," by g.r. waterhouse, volume i. the passage referred to is at page : "the fact of south australia possessing only few peculiar species, it having been apparently colonised from the eastern and western coasts, is very interesting; for we believe that mr. robert brown has shown that nearly the same remark is applicable to the plants; and mr. gould finds that most of the birds from these opposite shores, though closely allied, are distinct. considering these facts, together with the presence in south australia of upraised modern tertiary deposits and of extinct volcanoes, it seems probable that the eastern and western shores once formed two islands, separated from each other by a shallow sea, with their inhabitants generically, though not specifically, related, exactly as are those of new guinea and northern australia, and that within a geologically recent period a series of upheavals converted the intermediate sea into those desert plains which are now known to stretch from the southern coast far northward, and which then became colonised from the regions to the east and west." on this point see hooker's "introductory essay to the flora of tasmania," page ci, where jukes' views are discussed. for an interesting account of the bearings of the submergence of parts of australia, see thiselton-dyer, "r. geogr. soc. jour." xxii., no. .) waterhouse's "mammalia," and speculated that these two corners, now separated by gulf and low land, must have existed as two large islands; but it is odd that productions have not become more mingled; but it accords with, i think, a very general rule in the spreading of organic beings. i agree with what you say about lyell; he learns more by word of mouth than by reading. henslow has just gone, and has left me in a fit of enthusiastic admiration of his character. he is a really noble and good man. letter . to g. bentham. down, december st [ ?]. i thank you for so kindly taking the trouble of writing to me, on naturalised plants. i did not know of, or had forgotten, the clover case. how i wish i knew what plants the clover took the place of; but that would require more accurate knowledge of any one piece of ground than i suppose any one has. in the case of trees being so long-lived, i should think it would be extremely difficult to distinguish between true and new spreading of a species, and a rotation of crop. with respect to your idea of plants travelling west, i was much struck by a remark of yours in the penultimate "linnean journal" on the spreading of plants from america near behring straits. do you not consider so many more seeds and plants being taken from europe to america, than in a reverse direction, would go some way to account for comparative fewness of naturalised american plants here? though i think one might wildly speculate on european weeds having become well fitted for cultivated land, during thousands of years of culture, whereas cultivated land would be a new home for native american weeds, and they would not consequently be able to beat their european rivals when put in contest with them on cultivated land. here is a bit of wild theory! ( / . see asa gray, "scientific papers," , volume ii., page , on "the pertinacity and predominance of weeds," where the view here given is adopted. in a letter to asa gray (november th, ), published in the "life and letters," ii., page , darwin wrote: "does it not hurt your yankee pride that we thrash you so confoundedly? i am sure mrs. gray will stick up for your own weeds. ask her whether they are not more honest downright good sort of weeds.") but i did not sit down intending to scribble thus; but to beg a favour of you. i gave hooker a list of species of silene, on which gartner has experimentised in crossing: now i want extremely to be permitted to say that such and such are believed by mr. bentham to be true species, and such and such to be only varieties. unfortunately and stupidly, gartner does not append author's name to the species. thank you heartily for what you say about my book; but you will be greatly disappointed; it will be grievously too hypothetical. it will very likely be of no other service than collocating some facts; though i myself think i see my way approximately on the origin of species. but, alas, how frequent, how almost universal it is in an author to persuade himself of the truth of his own dogmas. my only hope is that i certainly see very many difficulties of gigantic stature. if you can remember any cases of one introduced species beating out or prevailing over another, i should be most thankful to hear it. i believe the common corn-poppy has been seen indigenous in sicily. i should like to know whether you suppose that seedlings of this wild plant would stand a contest with our own poppy; i should almost expect that our poppies were in some degree acclimatised and accustomed to our cornfields. if this could be shown to be so in this and other cases, i think we could understand why many not-trained american plants would not succeed in our agrarian habitats. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . mr. darwin used the knowledge of the spread of introduced plants in north america and australia to throw light on the cosmic migration of plants. sir j.d. hooker apparently objected that it was not fair to argue from agrarian to other plants; he also took a view differing slightly from that of darwin as to climatal and other natural conditions favouring introduced plants in australia.) down, january th, . thanks about glaciers. it is a pleasure and profit to me to write to you, and as in your last you have touched on naturalised plants of australia, i suppose you would not dislike to hear what i can say in answer. at least i know you would not wish me to defer to your authority, as long as not convinced. i quite agree to what you say about our agrarian plants being accustomed to cultivated land, and so no fair test. buckman has, i think, published this notion with respect to north america. with respect to roadside plants, i cannot feel so sure that these ought to be excluded, as animals make roads in many wild countries. ( / . in the account of naturalised plants in australia in sir j.d. hooker's "introductory essay to the flora of tasmania," , page cvi, many of the plants are marked "britain--waste places," "europe--cornfields," etc. in the same list the species which have also invaded north america--a large number--are given. on the margin of darwin's copy is scribbled in pencil: "very good, showing how many of the same species are naturalised in australia and united states, with very different climates; opposed to your conclusion." sir joseph supposed that one chief cause of the intrusion of english plants in australia, and not vice versa, was the great importation of european seed to australia and the scanty return of australian seed.) i have now looked and found passage in f. muller's ( / . ferdinand muller.) letter to me, in which he says: "in the wildernesses of australia some european perennials are "advancing in sure progress," "not to be arrested," etc. he gives as instances (so i suppose there are other cases) eleven species, viz., . rumex, poterium sanguisorba, potentilla anserina, medicago sativa, taraxacum officinale, marrubium vulgare, plantago lanceolata, p. major, lolium perenne. all these are seeding freely. now i remember, years and years ago, your discussing with me how curiously easily plants get naturalised on uninhabited islands, if ships even touch there. i remember we discussed packages being opened with old hay or straw, etc. now think of hides and wool (and wool exported largely over europe), and plants introduced, and samples of corn; and i must think that if australia had been the old country, and europe had been the botany bay, very few, very much fewer, australian plants would have run wild in europe than have now in australia. the case seems to me much stronger between la plata and spain. nevertheless, i will put in my one sentence on this head, illustrating the greater migration during glacial period from north to south than reversely, very humbly and cautiously. ( / . "origin of species," edition i., page . darwin refers to the facts given by hooker and de candolle showing a stronger migratory flow from north to south than in the opposite direction. darwin accounts for this by the northern plants having been long subject to severe competition in their northern homes, and having acquired a greater "dominating power" than the southern forms. "just in the same manner as we see at the present day that very many european productions cover the ground in la plata, and in a lesser degree in australia, and have to a certain extent beaten the natives; whereas extremely few southern forms have become naturalised in any part of europe, though hides, wool, and other objects likely to carry seeds have been largely imported during the last two or three centuries from la plata, and during the last thirty or forty years from australia.') i am very glad to hear you are making good progress with your australian introduction. i am, thank god, more than half through my chapter on geographical distribution, and have done the abstract of the glacial part... letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march th, . many thanks for your agreeable note. please keep the geographical ms. till you hear from me, for i may have to beg you to send it to murray; as through lyell's intervention i hope he will publish, but he requires first to see ms. ( / . "the origin of species"; see a letter to lyell in "life and letters," ii., page .) i demur to what you say that we change climate of the world to account for "migration of bugs, flies, etc." we do nothing of the sort; for we rest on scored rocks, old moraines, arctic shells, and mammifers. i have no theory whatever about cause of cold, no more than i have for cause of elevation and subsidence; and i can see no reason why i should not use cold, or elevation, or subsidence to explain any other phenomena, such as distribution. i think if i had space and time i could make a pretty good case against any great continental changes since the glacial epoch, and this has mainly led me to give up the lyellian doctrine as insufficient to explain all mutations of climate. i was amused at the british museum evidence. ( / . this refers to the letter to murchison (letter ), published with the evidence of the enquiry by the trustees of the british museum.) i am made to give my opinion so authoritatively on botanical matters!... as for our belief in the origin of species making any difference in descriptive work, i am sure it is incorrect, for i did all my barnacle work under this point of view. only i often groaned that i was not allowed simply to decide whether a difference was sufficient to deserve a name. i am glad to hear about huxley--a wonderful man. letter . to j.d. hooker. wells terrace, ilkley, otley, yorkshire, thursday [before december th, ]. i have read your discussion ( / . see "introductory essay," page c. darwin did not receive this work until december rd, so that the reference is to proof-sheets.), as usual, with great interest. the points are awfully intricate, almost at present beyond the confines of knowledge. the view which i should have looked at as perhaps most probable (though it hardly differs from yours) is that the whole world during the secondary ages was inhabited by marsupials, araucarias (mem.--fossil wood so common of this nature in south america ( / . see letter , note.)), banksia, etc.; and that these were supplanted and exterminated in the greater area of the north, but were left alive in the south. whence these very ancient forms originally proceeded seems a hopeless enquiry. your remarks on the passage of the northern forms southward, and of the southern forms of no kinds passing northward, seem to me grand. admirable, also, are your remarks on the struggle of vegetation: i find that i have rather misunderstood you, for i feared i differed from you, which i see is hardly the case at all. i cannot help suspecting that you put rather too much weight to climate in the case of australia. la plata seems to present such analogous facts, though i suppose the naturalisation of european plants has there taken place on a still larger scale than in australia... you will get four copies of my book--one for self, and three for the foreign botanists--in about ten days, or sooner; i.e., as soon as the sheets can be bound in cloth. i hope this will not be too late for your parcels. when you read my volume, use your pencil and score, so that some time i may have a talk with you on any criticisms. letter . to hugh falconer. down, december th, [ ]. whilst i think of it, let me tell you that years ago i remember seeing in the museum of the geological society a tooth of hippopotamus from madagascar: this, on geographical and all other grounds, ought to be looked to. pray make a note of this fact. ( / . at a meeting of the geological society, may st, , a letter was read from mr. telfair to sir alex. johnstone, accompanying a specimen of recent conglomerate rock, from the island of madagascar, containing fragments of a tusk, and part of a molar tooth of a hippopotamus ("proc. geol. soc." , page ). there is a reference to these remains of hippopotamus in a paper by mr. r.b. newton in the "geol. mag." volume x., ; and in dr. forsyth major's memoir on megaladapis madagascariensis ("phil. trans. r. soc." volume , page , ). since this letter was written, several bones belonging to two or possibly three species of hippopotamus have been found in madagascar. see forsyth major, "on the general results of a zoological expedition to madagascar in - " ("proc. zool. soc." , page .)) we have returned a week ago from ilkley, and it has done me some decided good. in london i saw lyell (the poor man who has "rushed into the bosom of two heresies"--by the way, i saw his celts, and how intensely interesting), and he told me that you were very antagonistic to my views on species. i well knew this would be the case. i must freely confess, the difficulties and objections are terrific; but i cannot believe that a false theory would explain, as it seems to me it does explain, so many classes of facts. do you ever see wollaston? he and you would agree nicely about my book ( / . "origin of species," .)--ill luck to both of you. if you have anything at all pleasant for me to hear, do write; and if all that you can say is very unpleasant, it will do you good to expectorate. and it is well known that you are very fond of writing letters. farewell, my good old friend and enemy. do make a note about the hippopotamus. if you are such a gentleman as to write, pray tell me how torquay agrees with your health. (plate: dr. asa gray, .) letter . to asa gray. down, december th [ ]. i have been for ten weeks at water-cure, and on my return a fortnight ago through london i found a copy of your memoir, and heartily do i thank you for it. ( / . "diagnostic characters of new species of phaenogamous plants collected in japan by charles wright...with observations upon the relations of the japanese flora to that of north america and of other parts of the northern temperate zone" ("mem. american acad. arts and sci." volume vi., page , ).) i have not read it, and shall not be able very soon, for i am much overworked, and my stomach has got nearly as bad as ever. with respect to the discussion on climate, i beg you to believe that i never put myself for a moment in competition with dana; but when one has thought on a subject, one cannot avoid forming some opinion. what i wrote to hooker i forget, after reading only a few sheets of your memoir, which i saw would be full of interest to me. hooker asked me to write to you, but, as i told him, i would not presume to express an opinion to you without careful deliberation. what he wrote i know not: i had previously several years ago seen (by whom i forget) some speculation on warmer period in the u. states subsequent to glacial period; and i had consulted lyell, who seemed much to doubt, and lyell's judgment is really admirably cautious. the arguments advanced in your paper and in your letter seem to me hardly sufficient; not that i should be at all sorry to admit this subsequent and intercalated warmer period--the more changes the merrier, i think. on the other hand, i do not believe that introduction of the old world forms into new world subsequent to the glacial period will do for the modified or representative forms in the two worlds. there has been too much change in comparison with the little change of isolated alpine forms; but you will see this in my book. ( / . "origin of species" ( ), chapter xi., pages et seq.) i may just make a few remarks why at first sight i do not attach much weight to the argument in your letter about the warmer climate. firstly, about the level of the land having been lower subsequently to glacial period, as evidenced by the whole, etc., i doubt whether meteorological knowledge is sufficient for this deduction: turning to the s. hemisphere, it might be argued that a greater extent of water made the temperature lower; and when much of the northern land was lower, it would have been covered by the sea and intermigration between old and new worlds would have been checked. secondly, i doubt whether any inference on nature of climate can be deduced from extinct species of mammals. if the musk-ox and deer of great size of your barren-grounds had been known only by fossil bones, who would have ventured to surmise the excessively cold climate they lived under? with respect to food of large animals, if you care about the subject will you turn to my discussion on this subject partly in respect to the elephas primigenius in my "journal of researches" (murray's home and colonial library), chapter v., page . ( / . "the firm conviction of the necessity of a vegetation possessing a character of tropical luxuriance to support such large animals, and the impossibility of reconciling this with the proximity of perpetual congelation, was one chief cause of the several theories of sudden revolutions of climate...i am far from supposing that the climate has not changed since the period when these animals lived, which now lie buried in the ice. at present i only wish to show that as far as quantity of food alone is concerned, the ancient rhinoceroses might have roamed over the steppes of central siberia even in their present condition, as well as the living rhinoceroses and elephants over the karoos of southern africa" ("journal of researches," page , ).) in this country we infer from remains of elephas primigenius that the climate at the period of its embedment was very severe, as seems countenanced by its woolly covering, by the nature of the deposits with angular fragments, the nature of the co-embedded shells, and co-existence of the musk-ox. i had formerly gathered from lyell that the relative position of the megatherium and mylodon with respect to the glacial deposits, had not been well made out; but perhaps it has been so recently. such are my reasons for not as yet admitting the warmer period subsequent to glacial epoch; but i daresay i may be quite wrong, and shall not be at all sorry to be proved so. i shall assuredly read your essay with care, for i have seen as yet only a fragment, and very likely some parts, which i could not formerly clearly understand, will be clear enough. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, [december] th, [ ]. i have just read with intense interest as far as page xxvi ( / . for darwin's impression of the "introductory essay to the tasmanian flora" as a whole, see "life and letters," ii., page .), i.e. to where you treat of the australian flora itself; and the latter part i remember thinking most of in the proof-sheets. either you have altered a good deal, or i did not see all or was purblind, for i have been much more interested with all the first part than i was before,--not that i did not like it at first. all seems to me very clearly written, and i have been baulked at only one sentence. i think, on the whole, i like the geological, or rather palaeontological, discussion best: it seems to me excellent, and admirably cautious. i agree with all that you say as far as my want of special knowledge allows me to judge. i have no criticisms of any importance, but i should have liked more facts in one or two places, which i shall not ask about. i rather demur to the fairness of your comparison of rising and sinking areas ( / . hooker, op. cit., page xv, paragraph . hooker's view was that sinking islands "contain comparatively fewer species and fewer peculiar generic types than those which are rising." in darwin's copy of the essay is written on the margin of page xvi: "i doubt whole case."), as in the indian ocean you compare volcanic land with exclusively coral islands, and these latter are very small in area and have very peculiar soil, and during their formation are likely to have been utterly submerged, perhaps many times, and restocked with existing plants. in the pacific, ignorance of marianne and caroline and other chief islands almost prevent comparison ( / . gambier island would be an interesting case. [note in original.]); and is it right to include american islands like juan fernandez and galapagos? in such lofty and probably ancient islands as sandwich and tahiti it cannot make much difference in the flora whether they have sunk or risen a few thousand feet of late ages. i wish you could work in your notion of certain parts of the tropics having kept hot, whilst other parts were cooled; i tried this scheme in my mind, and it seemed to fail. on the whole, i like very much all that i have read of your introduction, and i cannot doubt that it will have great weight in converting other botanists from the doctrine of immutable creation. what a lot of matter there is in one of your pages! there are many points i wish much to discuss with you. how i wish you could work out the pacific floras: i remember ages ago reading some of your ms. in paris there must be, i should think, materials from french voyages. but of all places in the world i should like to see a good flora of the sandwich islands. ( / . see hillebrand, "flora of the hawaiian islands," .) i would subscribe pounds to any collector to go there and work at the islands. would it not pay for a collector to go there, especially if aided by any subscription? it would be a fair occasion to ask for aid from the government grant of the royal society. i think it is the most isolated group in the world, and the islands themselves well isolated from each other. letter . to asa gray. down, january th [ ]. i have just finished your japan memoir ( / . "diagnostic characters of new species of phaenogamous plants collected in japan by charles wright. with observations upon the relations of the japanese flora to that of north america, etc.: - ."--"memoirs of amer. acad." vi.), and i must thank you for the extreme interest with which i have read it. it seems to me a most curious case of distribution; and how very well you argue, and put the case from analogy on the high probability of single centres of creation. that great man agassiz, when he comes to reason, seems to me as great in taking a wrong view as he is great in observing and classifying. one of the points which has struck me as most remarkable and inexplicable in your memoir is the number of monotypic (or nearly so) genera amongst the representative forms of japan and n. america. and how very singular the preponderance of identical and representative species in eastern, compared with western, america. i have no good map showing how wide the moderately low country is on the west side of the rocky mountains; nor, of course, do i know whether the whole of the low western territory has been botanised; but it has occurred to me, looking at such maps as i have, that the eastern area must be larger than the western, which would account to a certain small extent for preponderance on eastern side of the representative species. is there any truth in this suspicion? your memoir sets me marvelling and reflecting. i confess i am not able quite to understand your geology at pages , ; but you would probably not care to hear my difficulties, and therefore i will not trouble you with them. i was so grieved to get a letter from dana at florence, giving me a very poor (though improved) account of his health. letter . to t.h. huxley. , marine parade, eastbourne, november st [ ]. your note has been wonderfully interesting. your term, "pithecoid man," is a whole paper and theory in itself. how i hope the skull of the new macrauchenia has come. it is grand. i return hooker's letter, with very many thanks. the glacial action on lebanon is particularly interesting, considering its position between europe and himalaya. i get more and more convinced that my doctrine of mundane glacial period is correct ( / . in the st edition of the "origin," page , darwin argues in favour of a glacial period practically simultaneous over the globe. in the th edition, , page , he adopted mr. croll's views on the alternation of cold periods in the northern and southern hemispheres. an interesting modification of the mundane glacial period theory is given in belt's "the naturalist in nicaragua," , page . mr. belt's views are discussed in wallace's "geogr. distribution," , volume i., page .), and that it is the most important of all late phenomena with respect to distribution of plants and animals. i hope your review ( / . the history of the foundation of the "natural history review" is given in huxley's "life and letters," volume i., page . see letter .) progresses favourably. i am exhausted and not well, so write briefly; for we have had nine days of as much misery as man can endure. my poor daughter has suffered pitiably, and night and day required three persons to support her. the crisis of extreme danger is over, and she is rallying surprisingly, but the doctors are yet doubtful of ultimate issue. but the suffering was so pitiable i almost got to wish to see her die. she is easy now. when she will be fit to travel home i know not. i most sincerely hope that mrs. huxley keeps up pretty well. the work which most men have to do is a blessing to them in such cases as yours. god bless you. sir h. holland came here to see her, and was wonderfully kind. letter . to c. lyell. down, november th [ ]. i quite agree in admiration of forbes' essay ( / . "memoir of the geolog. survey of the united kingdom," volume i., .), yet, on my life, i think it has done, in some respects, as much mischief as good. those who believe in vast continental extensions will never investigate means of distribution. good heavens, look at heer's map of atlantis! i thought his division and lines of travel of the british plants very wild, and with hardly any foundation. i quite agree with what you say of almost certainty of glacial epoch having destroyed the spanish saxifrages, etc., in ireland. ( / . see letter .) i remember well discussing this with hooker; and i suggested that a slightly different or more equable and humid climate might have allowed (with perhaps some extension of land) the plants in question to have grown along the entire western shores between spain and ireland, and that subsequently they became extinct, except at the present points under an oceanic climate. the point of devonshire now has a touch of the same character. i demur in this particular case to forbes' transportal by ice. the subject has rather gone out of my mind, and it is not worth looking to my ms. discussion on migration during the glacial period; but i remember that the distribution of mammalia, and the very regular relation of the alpine plants to points due north (alluded to in "origin"), seemed to indicate continuous land at close of glacial period. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march th [ ]. i have been recalling my thoughts on the question whether the glacial period affected the whole world contemporaneously, or only one longitudinal belt after another. to my sorrow my old reasons for rejecting the latter alternative seem to me sufficient, and i should very much like to know what you think. let us suppose that the cold affected the two americas either before or after the old world. let it advance first either from north or south till the tropics became slightly cooled, and a few temperate forms reached the silla of caracas and the mountains of brazil. you would say, i suppose, that nearly all the tropical productions would be killed; and that subsequently, after the cold had moderated, tropical plants immigrated from the other non-chilled parts of the world. but this is impossible unless you bridge over the tropical parts of the atlantic--a doctrine which you know i cannot admit, though in some respects wishing i could. oswald heer would make nothing of such a bridge. when the glacial period affected the old world, would it not be rather rash to suppose that the meridian of india, the malay archipelago, and australia were refrigerated, and africa not refrigerated? but let us grant that this was so; let us bridge over the red sea (though rather opposed to the former almost certain communication between the red sea and the mediterranean); let us grant that arabia and persia were damp and fit for the passage of tropical plants: nevertheless, just look at the globe and fancy the cold slowly coming on, and the plants under the tropics travelling towards the equator, and it seems to me highly improbable that they could escape from india to the still hot regions of africa, for they would have to go westward with a little northing round the northern shores of the indian ocean. so if africa were refrigerated first, there would be considerable difficulty in the tropical productions of africa escaping into the still hot regions of india. here again you would have to bridge over the indian ocean within so very recent a period, and not in the line of the laccadive archipelago. if you suppose the cold to travel from the southern pole northwards, it will not help us, unless we suppose that the countries immediately north of the northern tropic were at the same time warmer, so as to allow free passage from india to africa, which seems to me too complex and unsupported an hypothesis to admit. therefore i cannot see that the supposition of different longitudinal belts of the world being cooled at different periods helps us much. the supposition of the whole world being cooled contemporaneously (but perhaps not quite equally, south america being less cooled than the old world) seems to me the simplest hypothesis, and does not add to the great difficulty of all the tropical productions not having been exterminated. i still think that a few species of each still existing tropical genus must have survived in the hottest or most favourable spots, either dry or damp. the tropical productions, though much distressed by the fall of temperature, would still be under the same conditions of the length of the day, etc., and would be still exposed to nearly the same enemies, as insects and other animals; whereas the invading temperate productions, though finding a favouring temperature, would have some of their conditions of life new, and would be exposed to many new enemies. but i fully admit the difficulty to be very great. i cannot see the full force of your difficulty of no known cause of a mundane change of temperature. we know no cause of continental elevations and depressions, yet we admit them. can you believe, looking to europe alone, that the intense cold, which must have prevailed when such gigantic glaciers extended on the plains of n. italy, was due merely to changed positions of land within so recent a period? i cannot. it would be far too long a story, but it could, i think, be clearly shown that all our continents existed approximately in their present positions long before the glacial period; which seems opposed to such gigantic geographical changes necessary to cause such a vast fall of temperature. the glacial period endured in europe and north america whilst the level of the land oscillated in height fully , feet, and this does not look as if changed level was the cause of the glacial period. but i have written an unreasonably long discussion. do not answer me at length, but send me a few words some time on the subject. i have had this copied, that it might not bore you too much to read it. a few words more. when equatorial productions were dreadfully distressed by fall of temperature, and probably by changed humidity, and changed proportional numbers of other plants and enemies (though they might favour some of the species), i must admit that they all would be exterminated if productions exactly fitted, not only for the climate, but for all the conditions of the equatorial regions during the glacial period existed and could everywhere have immigrated. but the productions of the temperate regions would have probably found, under the equator, in their new homes and soils, considerably different conditions of humidity and periodicity, and they would have encountered a new set of enemies (a most important consideration); for there seems good reason to believe that animals were not able to migrate nearly to the extent to which plants did during the glacial period. hence i can persuade myself that the temperate productions would not entirely replace and exterminate the productions of the cooled tropics, but would become partially mingled with them. i am far from satisfied with what i have scribbled. i conclude that there must have been a mundane glacial period, and that the difficulties are much the same whether we suppose it contemporaneous over the world, or that longitudinal belts were affected one after the other. for heaven's sake forgive me! letter . to h.w. bates. march th [ ]. i have been particularly struck by your remarks on the glacial period. ( / . in his "contributions to the insect fauna of the amazon valley," "trans. entom. soc." volume v., page (read november th, ), mr. bates discusses the migration of species from the equatorial regions after the glacial period. he arrives at a result which, he points out, "is highly interesting as bearing upon the question of how far extinction is likely to have occurred in equatorial regions during the time of the glacial epoch."..."the result is plain, that there has always (at least throughout immense geological epochs) been an equatorial fauna rich in endemic species, and that extinction cannot have prevailed to any extent within a period of time so comparatively modern as the glacial epoch in geology." this conclusion does not support the view expressed in the "origin of species" (edition i., chapter xi., page ) that the refrigeration of the earth extended to the equatorial regions. (bates, loc. cit., pages , .)) you seem to me to have put the case with admirable clearness and with crushing force. i am quite staggered with the blow, and do not know what to think. of late several facts have turned up leading me to believe more firmly that the glacial period did affect the equatorial regions; but i can make no answer to your argument, and am completely in a cleft stick. by an odd chance i have only a few days ago been discussing this subject, in relation to plants, with dr. hooker, who believes to a certain extent, but strongly urged the little apparent extinction in the equatorial regions. i stated in a letter some days ago to him that the tropics of s. america seem to have suffered less than the old world. there are many perplexing points; temperate plants seem to have migrated far more than animals. possibly species may have been formed more rapidly within tropics than one would have expected. i freely confess that you have confounded me; but i cannot yet give up my belief that the glacial period did to certain extent affect the tropics. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, february th [ ]. i have almost finished your arctic paper, and i must tell you how i admire it. ( / . "outlines of the distribution of arctic plants" [read june st, ], "linn. soc. trans." xxiii., , page . the author's remarks on mr. darwin's theories of geographical distribution are given at page : they are written in a characteristically generous spirit.) the subject, treated as you have treated it, is really magnificent. good heaven, what labour it must have cost you! and what a grand prospect there is for the future. i need not say how much pleased i am at your notice of my work; for you know that i regard your opinion more than that of all others. such papers are the real engine to compel people to reflect on modification of species; any one with an enquiring mind could hardly fail to wish to consider the whole subject after reading your paper. by jove! you will be driven, nolens volens, to a cooled globe. think of your own case of abyssinia and fernando po, and south africa, and of your lebanon case ( / . see "origin," edition vi., page .); grant that there are highlands to favour migration, but surely the lowlands must have been somewhat cooled. what a splendid new and original evidence and case is that of greenland: i cannot see how, even by granting bridges of continuous land, one can understand the existing flora. i should think from the state of scotland and america, and from isothermals, that during the coldest part of glacial period, greenland must have been quite depopulated. like a dog to his vomit, i cannot help going back and leaning to accidental means of transport by ice and currents. how curious also is the case of iceland. what a splendid paper you have made of the subject. when we meet i must ask you how much you attribute richness of flora of lapland to mere climate; it seems to me very marvellous that this point should have been a sort of focus of radiation; if, however, it is unnaturally rich, i.e. contains more species than it ought to do for its latitude, in comparison with the other arctic regions, would it not thus falsely seem a focus of radiation? but i shall hereafter have to go over and over again your paper; at present i am quite muddy on the subject. how very odd, on any view, the relation of greenland to the mountains of e. n. america; this looks as if there had been wholesale extinction in e. n. america. but i must not run on. by the way, i find link in speculated on relation of alpine and arctic plants being due to former colder climate, which he attributed to higher mountains cutting off the warm southern winds. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, november nd, . did i tell you how deeply pleased i was with gray's notice of my arctic essay? ( / . "american journal of science and arts," xxxiv., and in gray's "scientific papers," volume i., page .) it was awfully good of him, for i am sure he must have seen several blunders. he tells me that dr. dawson ( / . a letter (no. ) by sir j.d. hooker, dated november th, , on this subject occurs in the evolutionary section.) is down on me, and i have a very nice lecture on arctic and alpine plants from dr. d., with a critique on the arctic essay--which he did not see till afterwards. he has found some mares' nests in my essay, and one very venial blunder in the tables--he seems to hate darwinism--he accuses me of overlooking the geological facts, and dwells much on my overlooking subsidence of temperate america during glacial period--and my asserting a subsidence of arctic america, which never entered into my head. i wish, however, if it would not make your head ache too much, you would just look over my first three pages, and tell me if i have outraged any geological fact or made any oversights. i expounded the whole thing twice to lyell before i printed it, with map and tables, intending to get (and i thought i had) his imprimatur for all i did and said; but when here three nights ago, i found he was as ignorant of my having written an arctic essay as could be! and so i suppose he either did not take it in, or thought it of little consequence. hector approved of it in toto. i need hardly say that i set out on biological grounds, and hold myself as independent of theories of subsidence as you do of the opinions of physicists on heat of globe! i have written a long [letter] to dawson. by the way, did you see the "athenaeum" notice of l. bonaparte's basque and finnish language?--is it not possible that the basques are finns left behind after the glacial period, like the arctic plants? i have often thought this theory would explain the mexican and chinese national affinities. i am plodding away at welwitschia by night and genera plantarum by day. we had a very jolly dinner at the club on thursday. we are all well. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. i have read the pages ( / . the paper on arctic plants in volume xxiii. of the linnean society's "transactions," - .) attentively (with even very much more admiration than the first time) and cannot imagine what makes dr. d. accuse you of asserting a subsidence of arctic america. ( / . the late sir j.w. dawson wrote a review (signed j.w.d) of hooker's arctic paper which appeared in the "canadian naturalist," , volume vii., page . the chief part of the article is made up of quotations from asa gray's article referred to below. the remainder is a summary of geological arguments against hooker's views. we do not find the accusation referred to above, which seems to have appeared in a lecture.) no doubt there was a subsidence of n. america during the glacial period, and over a large part, but to maintain that the subsidence extended over nearly the whole breadth of the continent, or lasted during the whole glacial period, i do not believe he can support. i suspect much of the evidence of subsidence during the glacial period there will prove false, as it largely rests on ice-action, which is becoming, as you know, to be viewed as more and more subaerial. if dawson has published criticisms i should like to see them. i have heard he is rabid against me, and no doubt partly in consequence, against anything you write in my favour (and never was anything published more favourable than the arctic paper). lyell had difficulty in preventing dawson reviewing the "origin" ( / . dawson reviewed the "origin" in the "canadian naturalist," .) on hearsay, without having looked at it. no spirit of fairness can be expected from so biassed a judge. all i can say is that your few first pages have impressed me far more this reading than the first time. can the scandinavian portion of the flora be so potent ( / . dr. hooker wrote: "regarded as a whole the arctic flora is decidedly scandinavian; for arctic scandinavia, or lapland, though a very small tract of land, contains by far the richest arctic flora, amounting to three-fourths of the whole"; he pointed out "that the scandinavian flora is present in every latitude of the globe, and is the only one that is so" (quoted by gray, loc. cit. infra).) from having been preserved in that corner, warmed by the gulf stream, and from now alone representing the entire circumpolar flora, during the warmer pre-glacial period? from the first i have not been able to resist the impression (shared by asa gray, whose review ( / . asa gray's "scientific papers," volume i., page .) on you pleased me much) that during the glacial period there must have been almost entire extinction in greenland; for depth of sea does not favour former southerly extension of land there. ( / . in the driving southward of the vegetation by the glacial epoch the greenland flora would be "driven into the sea, that is, exterminated." (hooker quoted by gray, loc. cit. page .) i must suspect that plants have been largely introduced by sea currents, which bring so much wood from n. europe. but here we shall split as wide as the poles asunder. all the world could not persuade me, if it tried, that yours is not a grand essay. i do not quite understand whether it is this essay that dawson has been "down on." what a curious notion about glacial climate, and basques and finns! are the basques mountaineers--i hope so. i am sorry i have not seen the "athenaeum," but i now take in the "parthenon." by the way, i have just read with much interest max muller ( / . probably his "lectures on the science of language," - .); the last part, about first origin of language, seems the least satisfactory part. pray thank oliver heartily for his heap of references on poisons. ( / . doubtless in connection with darwin's work on drosera: he was working at this subject during his stay at bournemouth in the autumn of .) how the devil does he find them out? i must not indulge [myself] with cypripedium. asa gray has made out pretty clearly that, at least in some cases, the act of fertilisation is effected by small insects being forced to crawl in and out of the flower in a particular direction; and perhaps i am quite wrong that it is ever effected by the proboscis. i retract so far that if you have the rare c. hirsutissimum, i should very much like to examine a cut single flower; for i saw one at a flower show, and as far as i could see, it seemed widely different from other forms. p.s.--answer this, if by chance you can. i remember distinctly having read in some book of travels, i am nearly sure in australia, an account of the natives, during famines, trying and cooking in all sorts of ways various vegetable productions, and sometimes being injured by them. can you remember any such account? i want to find it. i thought it was in sir g. grey, but it is not. could it have been in eyre's book? letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. [november ]. ...i have speculated on the probability of there having been a post-glacial arctic-norwego-greenland in connection, which would account for the strong fact, that temperate greenland is as arctic as arctic greenland is--a fact, to me, of astounding force. i do confess, that a northern migration would thus fill greenland as it is filled, in so far as the whole flora (temperate and arctic) would be arctic,--but then the same plants should have gone to the other polar islands, and above all, so many scandinavian arctic plants should not be absent in greenland, still less should whole natural orders be absent, and above all the arctic leguminosae. it is difficult (as i have told dawson) to conceive of the force with which arguments drawn from the absence of certain familiar ubiquitous plants strike the botanists. i would not throw over altogether ice-transport and water-transport, but i cannot realise their giving rise to such anomalies, in the distribution, as greenland presents. so, too, i have always felt the force of your objection, that greenland should have been depopulated in the glacial period, but then reflected that vegetation now ascends i forget how high (about , feet) in disco, in deg, and that even in a glacial ocean there may always have been lurking-places for the few hundred plants greenland now possesses. supposing greenland were repeopled from scandinavia over ocean way, why should carices be the chief things brought? why should there have been no leguminosae brought, no plants but high arctic?--why no caltha palustris, which gilds the marshes of norway and paints the housetops of iceland? in short, to my eyes, the trans-oceanic migration would no more make such an assemblage than special creations would account for representative species--and no "ingenious wriggling" ever satisfied me that it would. there, then! i dined with henry christy last night, who was just returned from celt hunting with lartet, amongst the basques,--they are pyreneans. lubbock was there, and told me that my precious speculation was one of von baer's, and that the finns are supposed to have made the kjokken moddings. i read max muller a year ago--and quite agree, first part is excellent; last, on origin of language, fatuous and feeble as a scientific argument. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. i return by this post dawson's lecture, which seems to me interesting, but with nothing new. i think he must be rather conceited, with his "if dr. hooker had known this and that, he would have said so and so." it seems to me absurd in dawson assuming that north america was under sea during the whole glacial period. certainly greenland is a most curious and difficult problem. but as for the leguminosae, the case, my dear fellow, is as plain as a pike-staff, as the seeds are so very quickly killed by the sea-water. seriously, it would be a curious experiment to try vitality in salt water of the plants which ought to be in greenland. i forget, however, that it would be impossible, i suppose, to get hardly any except the caltha, and if ever i stumble on that plant in seed i will try it. i wish to heaven some one would examine the rocks near sea-level at the south point of greenland, and see if they are well scored; that would tell something. but then subsidence might have brought down higher rocks to present sea-level. i am much more willing to admit your norwego-greenland connecting land than most other cases, from the nature of the rocks in spitzbergen and bear island. you have broached and thrown a lot of light on a splendid problem, which some day will be solved. it rejoices me to think that, when a boy, i was shown an erratic boulder in shrewsbury, and was told by a clever old gentleman that till the world's end no one would ever guess how it came there. it makes me laugh to think of dr. dawson's indignation at your sentence about "obliquity of vision." ( / . see letter .) by jove, he will try and pitch into you some day. good night for the present. to return for a moment to the glacial period. you might have asked dawson whether ibex, marmot, etc., etc., were carried from mountain to mountain in europe on floating ice; and whether musk ox got to england on icebergs? yet england has subsided, if we trust to the good evidence of shells alone, more during glacial period than america is known to have done. for heaven's sake instil a word of caution into tyndall's ears. i saw an extract that valleys of switzerland were wholly due to glaciers. he cannot have reflected on valleys in tropical countries. the grandest valleys i ever saw were in tahiti. again, if i understand, he supposes that glaciers wear down whole mountain ranges; thus lower their height, decrease the temperature, and decrease the glaciers themselves. does he suppose the whole of scotland thus worn down? surely he must forget oscillation of level would be more potent one way or another during such enormous lapses of time. it would be hard to believe any mountain range has been so long stationary. i suppose lyell's book will soon be out. ( / . "the antiquity of man," .) i was very glad to see in a newspaper that murray sold , . what a sale! i am now working on cultivated plants, and rather like my work; but i am horribly afraid i make the rashest remarks on value of differences. i trust to a sort of instinct, and, god knows, can seldom give any reason for my remarks. lord, in what a medley the origin of cultivated plants is. i have been reading on strawberries, and i can find hardly two botanists agree what are the wild forms; but i pick out of horticultural books here and there queer cases of variation, inheritance, etc., etc. what a long letter i have scribbled; but you must forgive me, for it is a great pleasure thus talking to you. did you ever hear of "condy's ozonised water"? i have been trying it with, i think, extraordinary advantage--to comfort, at least. a teaspoon, in water, three or four times a day. if you meet any poor dyspeptic devil like me, suggest it. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, th [march ]. i hope and think you are too severe on lyell's early chapters. though so condensed, and not well arranged, they seemed to me to convey with uncommon force the antiquity of man, and that was his object. ( / . "the geological evidences of the antiquity of man": london, .) it did not occur to me, but i fear there is some truth in your criticism, that nothing is to be trusted until he [lyell] had observed it. i am glad to see you stirred up about tropical plants during glacial period. remember that i have many times sworn to you that they coexisted; so, my dear fellow, you must make them coexist. i do not think that greater coolness in a disturbed condition of things would be required than the zone of the himalaya, in which you describe some tropical and temperate forms commingling ( / . "during this [the glacial period], the coldest point, the lowlands under the equator, must have been clothed with a mingled tropical and temperate vegetation, like that described by hooker as growing luxuriantly at the height of from four to five thousand feet on the lower slopes of the himalaya, but with perhaps a still greater preponderance of temperate forms" ("origin of species," edition vi., page ).); and as in the lower part of the cameroons, and as seemann describes, in low mountains of panama. it is, as you say, absurd to suppose that such a genus as dipterocarpus ( / . dipterocarpus, a genus of the dipterocarpaceae, a family of dicotyledonous plants restricted to the tropics of the old world.) could have been developed since the glacial era; but do you feel so sure, as to oppose ( / . the meaning seems to be: "do you feel so sure that you can bring in opposition a large body of considerations to show, etc.") a large body of considerations on the other side, that this genus could not have been slowly accustomed to a cooler climate? i see lindley says it has not been brought to england, and so could not have been tried in the greenhouse. have you materials to show to what little height it ever ascends the mountains of java or sumatra? it makes a mighty difference, the whole area being cooled; and the area perhaps not being in all respects, such as dampness, etc., etc., fitted for such temperate plants as could get in. but, anyhow, i am ready to swear again that dipterocarpus and any other genus you like to name did survive during a cooler period. about reversion you express just what i mean. i somehow blundered, and mentally took literally that the child inherited from his grandfather. this view of latency collates a lot of facts--secondary sexual characters in each individual; tendency of latent character to appear temporarily in youth; effect of crossing in educing talent, character, etc. when one thinks of a latent character being handed down, hidden for a thousand or ten thousand generations, and then suddenly appearing, one is quite bewildered at the host of characters written in invisible ink on the germ. i have no evidence of the reversion of all characters in a variety. i quite agree to what you say about genius. i told lyell that passage made me groan. what a pity about falconer! ( / . this refers to falconer's claim of priority against lyell. see "life and letters," iii., page ; also letters and .) how singular and how lamentable! remember orchid pods. i have a passion to grow the seeds (and other motives). i have not a fact to go on, but have a notion (no, i have a firm conviction!) that they are parasitic in early youth on cryptogams! ( / . in an article on british epiphytal orchids ("gard. chron." , page ) malaxis paludosa is described by f.w. burbidge as being a true epiphyte on the stems of sphagnum. stahl states that the difficulty of cultivating orchids largely depends on their dependence on a mycorhizal fungus,--though he does not apply his view to germination. see pringsheim's "jahrbucher," xxxiv., page . we are indebted to sir joseph hooker for the reference to burbidge's paper.) here is a fool's notion. i have some planted on sphagnum. do any tropical lichens or mosses, or european, withstand heat, or grow on any trees in hothouse at kew? if so, for love of heaven, favour my madness, and have some scraped off and sent me. i am like a gambler, and love a wild experiment. it gives me great pleasure to fancy that i see radicles of orchid seed penetrating the sphagnum. i know i shall not, and therefore shall not be disappointed. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [september th ]. ...about new zealand, at last i am coming round, and admit it must have been connected with some terra firma, but i will die rather than admit australia. how i wish mountains of new caledonia were well worked!... letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . in the earlier part of this letter mr. darwin refers to a review on planchon in the "nat. history review," april . there can be no doubt, therefore, that "thomson's article" must be the review of jordan's "diagnoses d'especes nouvelles ou meconnues," etc., in the same number, page . it deals with "lumpers" and "splitters," and a possible trinomial nomenclature.) april th [ ]. i have been very much struck by thomson's article; it seems to me quite remarkable for its judgment, force, and clearness. it has interested me greatly. i have sometimes loosely speculated on what nomenclature would come to, and concluded that it would be trinomial. what a name a plant will formally bear with the author's name after genus (as some recommend), and after species and subspecies! it really seems one of the greatest questions which can be discussed for systematic natural history. how impartially thomson adjusts the claims of "hair-splitters" and "lumpers"! i sincerely hope he will pretty often write reviews or essays. it is an old subject of grief to me, formerly in geology and of late in zoology and botany, that the very best men (excepting those who have to write principles and elements, etc.) read so little, and give up nearly their whole time to original work. i have often thought that science would progress more if there was more reading. how few read any long and laborious papers! the only use of publishing such seems to be as a proof that the author has given time and labour to his work. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october nd and th, . as for the anthropologists being a bete noire to scientific men, i am not surprised, for i have just skimmed through the last "anthrop. journal," and it shows, especially the long attack on the british association, a curious spirit of insolence, conceit, dullness, and vulgarity. i have read with uncommon interest travers' short paper on the chatham islands. ( / . see travers, h.h., "notes on the chatham islands," "linn. soc. journ." ix., october . mr. travers says he picked up a seed of edwardsia, evidently washed ashore. the stranded logs indicated a current from new zealand.) i remember your pitching into me with terrible ferocity because i said i thought the seed of edwardsia might have been floated from chili to new zealand: now what do you say, my young man, to the three young trees of the same size on one spot alone of the island, and with the cast-up pod on the shore? if it were not for those unlucky wingless birds i could believe that the group had been colonised by accidental means; but, as it is, it appears by far to me the best evidence of continental extension ever observed. the distance, i see, is miles. i wish i knew whether the sea was deeper than between new zealand and australia. i fear you will not admit such a small accident as the wingless birds having been transported on icebergs. do suggest, if you have a chance, to any one visiting the islands again, to look out for erratic boulders there. how curious his statement is about the fruit-trees and bees! ( / . "since the importation of bees, european fruit-trees and bushes have produced freely." travers, "linn. soc. journal," ix., page .) i wish i knew whether the clover had spread before the bees were introduced... i saw in the "gardeners' chronicle" the sentence about the "origin" dying in germany, but did not know it was by seemann. letter . to c. lyell. down, february th [ ]. i am very much obliged for your note and the extract, which have interested me extremely. i cannot disbelieve for a moment agassiz on glacial action after all his experience, as you say, and after that capital book with plates which he early published ( / . "etudes sur les glaciers"; neuchatel, .); as for his inferences and reasoning on the valley of the amazon that is quite another question, nor can he have seen all the regions to which mrs. a. alludes. ( / . a letter from mrs. agassiz to lady lyell, which had been forwarded to mr. darwin. the same letter was sent also to sir charles bunbury, who, in writing to lyell on february rd, , criticises some of the statements. he speaks of agassiz's observations on glacial phenomena in brazil as "very astonishing indeed; so astonishing that i have very great difficulty in believing them. they shake my faith in the glacial system altogether; or perhaps they ought rather to shake the faith in agassiz...if brazil was ever covered with glaciers, i can see no reason why the whole earth should not have been so. perhaps the whole terrestrial globe was once 'one entire and perfect icicle.'" (from the privately printed "life" of sir charles bunbury, edited by lady bunbury, volume ii., page ).) her letter is not very clear to me, and i do not understand what she means by "to a height of more than three thousand feet." there are no erratic boulders (to which i particularly attended ) in the low country round rio. it is possible or even probable that this area may have subsided, for i could detect no evidence of elevation, or any tertiary formations or volcanic action. the organ mountains are from six to seven thousand feet in height; and i am only a little surprised at their bearing the marks of glacial action. for some temperate genera of plants, viz., vaccinium, andromeda, gaultheria, hypericum, drosera, habenaria, inhabit these mountains, and i look at this almost as good evidence of a cold period, as glacial action. that there are not more temperate plants can be accounted for by the isolated position of these mountains. there are no erratic boulders on the pacific coast north of chiloe, and but few glaciers in the cordillera, but it by no means follows, i think, that there may not have been formerly gigantic glaciers on the eastern and more humid side. in the third edition of "origin," page ( / . "origin," edition vi., page , . "mr. d. forbes informs me that he found in various parts of the cordillera, from lat. deg w. to deg s., at about the height of twelve thousand feet, deeply furrowed rocks...and likewise great masses of detritus, including grooved pebbles. along this whole space of the cordillera true glaciers do not now exist, even at much more considerable height. "), you will find a brief allusion, on authority of mr. d. forbes, on the former much lower extension of glaciers in the equatorial cordillera. pray also look at page at what i say on the nature of tropical vegetation (which i could now much improve) during the glacial period. ( / . "during this, the coldest period, the lowlands under the equator must have been clothed with a mingled tropical and temperate vegetation..." ("origin," edition vi., , page ).) i feel a strong conviction that soon every one will believe that the whole world was cooler during the glacial period. remember hooker's wonderful case recently discovered of the identity of so many temperate plants on the summit of fernando po, and on the mountains of abyssinia. ( / . "dr. hooker has also lately shown that several of the plants living in the upper parts of the lofty island of fernando po, and in the neighbouring cameroon mountains, in the gulf of guinea, are closely related to those on the mountains of abyssinia, and likewise to those of temperate europe" (loc. cit., page ).) i look at [it] as certain that these plants crossed the whole of africa from east to west during the same period. i wish i had published a long chapter written in full, and almost ready for the press, on this subject, which i wrote ten years ago. it was impossible in the "origin" to give a fair abstract. my health is considerably improved, so that i am able to work nearly two hours a day, and so make some little progress with my everlasting book on domestic varieties. you will have heard of my sister catherine's easy death last friday morning. ( / . catherine darwin died in february .) she suffered much, and we all look at her death as a blessing, for there was much fear of prolonged and greater suffering. we are uneasy about susan, but she has hitherto borne it better than we could have hoped. ( / . susan darwin died in october .) remember glacial action of lebanon when you speak of no glacial action in s. on himalaya, and in s.e. australia. p.s.--i have been very glad to see sir c. bunbury's letter. ( / . the letter from bunbury to lyell, already quoted on this subject. bunbury writes: "there is nothing in the least northern, nothing that is not characteristically brazilian, in the flora of the organ mountains.") if the genera which i name from gardner ( / . "travels in the interior of brazil," by g. gardner: london, .) are not considered by him as usually temperate forms, i am, of course, silenced; but hooker looked over the ms. chapter some ten years ago and did not score out my remarks on them, and he is generally ready enough to pitch into my ignorance and snub me, as i often deserve. my wonder was how any, ever so few, temperate forms reached the mountains of brazil; and i supposed they travelled by the rather high land and ranges (name forgotten) which stretch from the cordillera towards brazil. cordillera genera of plants have also, somehow, reached the silla of caracas. when i think of the vegetation of new zealand and west coast of south america, where glaciers now descend to or very near to the sea, i feel it rash to conclude that all tropical forms would be destroyed by a considerably cooler period under the equator. letter . to c. lyell. down, thursday, february th [ ]. many thanks for hooker's letter; it is a real pleasure to me to read his letters; they are always written with such spirit. i quite agree that agassiz could never mistake weathered blocks and glacial action; though the mistake has, i know, been made in two or three quarters of the world. i have often fought with hooker about the physicists putting their veto on the world having been cooler; it seems to me as irrational as if, when geologists first brought forward some evidence of elevation and subsidence, a former hooker had declared that this could not possibly be admitted until geologists could explain what made the earth rise and fall. it seems that i erred greatly about some of the plants on the organ mountains. ( / . "on the organ mountains of brazil some few temperate european, some antarctic, and some andean genera were found by gardner, which did not exist in the low intervening hot countries" ("origin," edition vi., page ).) but i am very glad to hear about fuchsia, etc. i cannot make out what hooker does believe; he seems to admit the former cooler climate, and almost in the same breath to spurn the idea. to retort hooker's words, "it is inexplicable to me" how he can compare the transport of seeds from the andes to the organ mountains with that from a continent to an island. not to mention the much greater distance, there are no currents of water from one to the other; and what on earth should make a bird fly that distance without resting many times? i do not at all suppose that nearly all tropical forms were exterminated during the cool period; but in somewhat depopulated areas, into which there could be no migration, probably many closely allied species will have been formed since this period. hooker's paper in the "natural history review" ( / . possibly an unsigned article, entitled "new colonial floras" (a review of grisebach's "flora of the british west indian islands" and thwaites' "enumeratio plantarum zeylaniae").--"nat. hist. review," january , page . see letter .) is well worth studying; but i cannot remember that he gives good grounds for his conviction that certain orders of plants could not withstand a rather cooler climate, even if it came on most gradually. we have only just learnt under how cool a temperature several tropical orchids can flourish. i clearly saw hooker's difficulty about the preservation of tropical forms during the cool period, and tried my best to retain one spot after another as a hothouse for their preservation; but it would not hold good, and it was a mere piece of truckling on my part when i suggested that longitudinal belts of the world were cooled one after the other. i shall very much like to see agassiz's letter, whenever you receive one. i have written a long letter; but a squabble with or about hooker always does me a world of good, and we have been at it many a long year. i cannot understand whether he attacks me as a wriggler or a hammerer, but i am very sure that a deal of wriggling has to be done. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, july th [ ]. many thanks about the lupin. your letter has interested me extremely, and reminds me of old times. i suppose, by your writing, you would like to hear my notions. i cannot admit the atlantis connecting madeira and canary islands without the strongest evidence, and all on that side ( / . sir j.d. hooker lectured on "insular floras" at the nottingham meeting of the british association on august th, . his lecture is given in the "gardeners' chronicle," , page . no doubt he was at this time preparing his remarks on continental extension, which take the form of a judicial statement, giving the arguments and difficulties on both sides. he sums up against continental extension, which, he says, accounts for everything and explains nothing; "whilst the hypothesis of trans-oceanic migration, though it leaves a multitude of facts unexplained, offers a rational solution of many of the most puzzling phenomena." in his lecture, sir joseph wrote that in ascending the mountains in madeira there is but little replacement of lowland species by those of a higher northern latitude. "plants become fewer and fewer as we ascend, and their places are not taken by boreal ones, or by but very few."): the depth is so great; there is nothing geologically in the islands favouring the belief; there are no endemic mammals or batrachians. did not bunbury show that some orders of plants were singularly deficient? but i rely chiefly on the large amount of specific distinction in the insects and land-shells of p. santo and madeira: surely canary and madeira could not have been connected, if madeira and p. santo had long been distinct. if you admit atlantis, i think you are bound to admit or explain the difficulties. with respect to cold temperate plants in madeira, i, of course, know not enough to form an opinion; but, admitting atlantis, i can see their rarity is a great difficulty; otherwise, seeing that the latitude is only a little north of the persian gulf, and seeing the long sea-transport for seeds, the rarity of northern plants does not seem to me difficult. the immigration may have been from a southerly direction, and it seems that some few african as well as coldish plants are common to the mountains to the south. believing in occasional transport, i cannot feel so much surprise at there being a good deal in common to madeira and canary, these being the nearest points of land to each other. it is quite new and very interesting to me what you say about the endemic plants being in so large a proportion rare species. from the greater size of the workshop (i.e., greater competition and greater number of individuals, etc.) i should expect that continental forms, as they are occasionally introduced, would always tend to beat the insular forms; and, as in every area, there will always be many forms more or less rare tending towards extinction, i should certainly have expected that in islands a large proportion of the rarer forms would have been insular in their origin. the longer the time any form has existed in an island into which continental forms are occasionally introduced, by so much the chances will be in favour of its being peculiar or abnormal in nature, and at the same time scanty in numbers. the duration of its existence will also have formerly given it the best chance, when it was not so rare, of being widely distributed to adjoining archipelagoes. here is a wriggle: the older a form is, the better the chance will be of its having become developed into a tree! an island from being surrounded by the sea will prevent free immigration and competition, hence a greater number of ancient forms will survive on an island than on the nearest continent whence the island was stocked; and i have always looked at clethra ( / . clethra is an american shrubby genus of ericaceae, found nowhere nearer to madeira than north america. of this plant and of persea, sir charles lyell ("principles," , volume ii., page ) says: "regarded as relics of a miocene flora, they are just such forms as we should naturally expect to have come from the adjoining miocene continent." see also "origin of species," edition vi., page , where a similar view is quoted from heer.) and the other extra-european forms as remnants of the tertiary flora which formerly inhabited europe. this preservation of ancient forms in islands appears to me like the preservation of ganoid fishes in our present freshwaters. you speak of no northern plants on mountains south of the pyrenees: does my memory quite deceive me that boissier published a long list from the mountains in southern spain? i have not seen wollaston's, "catalogue," ( / . probably the "catalogue of the coleopterous insects of the canaries in the british museum," .) but must buy it, if it gives the facts about rare plants which you mention. and now i have given more than enough of my notions, which i well know will be in flat contradiction with all yours. wollaston, in his "insecta maderensia" ( / . "insecta maderensia," london, .), to, page , and in his "variation of species," pages - , gives the case of apterous insects, but i remember i worked out some additional details. i think he gives in these same works the proportion of european insects. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . sir joseph had asked (july st, ): "is there an evidence that the south of england and of ireland were not submerged during the glacial epoch, when the w. and n. of england were islands in a glacial sea? and supposing they were above water, could the present atlantic and n.w. of france floras we now find there have been there during the glacial epoch?--yet this is what forbes demands, page . at page he sees this objection, and wriggles out of his difficulty by putting the date of the channel 'towards the close of the glacial epoch.' what does austen make the date of the channel?--ante or post glacial?" the changes in level and other questions are dealt with in a paper by r.a.c. austen (afterwards godwin-austen), "on the superficial accumulations of the coasts of the english channel and the changes they indicate." "quart. journ. geol. soc." vii., , page . obit. notice by prof. bonney in the "proc. geol. soc." xli., page , .) down, august rd [ ]. i will take your letter seriatim. there is good evidence that s.e. england was dry land during the glacial period. i forget what austen says, but mammals prove, i think, that england has been united to the continent since the glacial period. i don't see your difficulty about what i say on the breaking of an isthmus: if panama was broken through would not the fauna of the pacific flow into the w. indies, or vice versa, and destroy a multitude of creatures? of course i'm no judge, but i thought de candolle had made out his case about small areas of trees. you will find at page , rd edition "origin," a too concise allusion to the madeira flora being a remnant of the tertiary european flora. i shall feel deeply interested by reading your botanical difficulties against occasional immigration. the facts you give about certain plants, such as the heaths, are certainly very curious. ( / . in hooker's lecture he gives st. dabeoc's heath and calluna vulgaris as the most striking of the few boreal plants in the azores. darwin seems to have been impressed by the boreal character of the azores, thus taking the opposite view to that of sir joseph. see letter , note.) i thought the azores flora was more boreal, but what can you mean by saying that the azores are nearer to britain and newfoundland than to madeira?--on the globe they are nearly twice as far off. ( / . see letter .) with respect to sea currents, i formerly made enquiries at madeira, but cannot now give you the results; but i remember that the facts were different from what is generally stated: i think that a ship wrecked on the canary islands was thrown up on the coast of madeira. you speak as if only land-shells differed in madeira and porto santo: does my memory deceive me that there is a host of representative insects? when you exorcise at nottingham occasional means of transport, be honest, and admit how little is known on the subject. remember how recently you and others thought that salt water would soon kill seeds. reflect that there is not a coral islet in the ocean which is not pretty well clothed with plants, and the fewness of the species can hardly with justice be attributed to the arrival of few seeds, for coral islets close to other land support only the same limited vegetation. remember that no one knew that seeds would remain for many hours in the crops of birds and retain their vitality; that fish eat seeds, and that when the fish are devoured by birds the seeds can germinate, etc. remember that every year many birds are blown to madeira and to the bermudas. remember that dust is blown , miles over the atlantic. now, bearing all this in mind, would it not be a prodigy if an unstocked island did not in the course of ages receive colonists from coasts whence the currents flow, trees are drifted and birds are driven by gales. the objections to islands being thus stocked are, as far as i understand, that certain species and genera have been more freely introduced, and others less freely than might have been expected. but then the sea kills some sorts of seeds, others are killed by the digestion of birds, and some would be more liable than others to adhere to birds' feet. but we know so very little on these points that it seems to me that we cannot at all tell what forms would probably be introduced and what would not. i do not for a moment pretend that these means of introduction can be proved to have acted; but they seem to me sufficient, with no valid or heavy objections, whilst there are, as it seems to me, the heaviest objections on geological and on geographical distribution grounds (pages , , "origin" ( / . edition iii., or edition vi., page .) to forbes' enormous continental extensions. but i fear that i shall and have bored you. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. ( / . in a letter of july st, sir j.d. hooker wrote, "you must not suppose me to be a champion of continental connection, because i am not agreeable to trans-oceanic migration...either hypothesis appears to me well to cover the facts of oceanic floras, but there are grave objections to both, botanical to yours, geological to forbes'.") the following interesting letters give some of sir joseph's difficulties.) kew, august th, . you mention ("journal") no land-birds, except introduced, upon st. helena. beatson (introduction xvii) mentions one ( / . aegialitis sanctae-helenae, a small plover "very closely allied to a species found in south africa, but presenting certain differences which entitle it to the rank of a peculiar species" (wallace, "island life," page ). in the earlier editions of the "origin" (e.g. edition iii., page ) darwin wrote that "madeira does not possess one peculiar bird." in edition iv., , page , the mistake was put right.) "in considerable numbers," resembles sand-lark--is called "wire bird," has long greenish legs like wires, runs fast, eyes large, bill moderately long, is rather shy, does not possess much powers of flight. what was it? i have written to ask sclater, also about birds of madeira and azores. it is a very curious thing that the azores do not contain the (non-european) american genus clethra, that is found in madeira and canaries, and that the azores contain no trace of american element (beyond what is common to madeira), except a species of sanicula, a genus with hooked bristles to the small seed-vessels. the european sanicula roams from norway to madeira, canaries, cape verde, cameroons, cape of good hope, and from britain to japan, and also is, i think, in n. america; but does not occur in the azores, where it is replaced by one that is of a decidedly american type. this tells heavily against the doctrine that joins atlantis to america, and is much against your trans-oceanic migration--for considering how near the azores are to america, and in the influence of the gulf-stream and prevalent winds, it certainly appears marvellous. not only are the azores in a current that sweeps the coast of u. states, but they are in the s.w. winds, and in the eye of the s.w. hurricanes! i suppose you will answer that the european forms are prepotent, but this is riding prepotency to death. r.t. lowe has written me a capital letter on the madeiran, canarian, and cape verde floras. i misled you if i gave you to understand that wollaston's catalogue said anything about rare plants. i am worked and worried to death with this lecture: and curse myself as a soft headed and hearted imbecile to have accepted it. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, monday [august th, ]. again thanks for your letter. you need not fear my not doing justice to your objections to the continental hypothesis! referring to page again ( / . "origin of species," edition iii., pages - : "in some cases, however, as by the breaking of an isthmus and the consequent irruption of a multitude of new inhabitants, or by the final subsidence of an island, the extinction may have been comparatively rapid."), it never occurred to me that you alluded to extinction of marine life: an isthmus is a piece of land, and you go on in the same sentence about "an island," which quite threw me out, for the destruction of an isthmus makes an island! i surely did not say azores nearer to britain and newfoundland "than to madeira," but "than madeira is to said places." with regard to the madeiran coleoptera i rely very little on local distribution of insects--they are so local themselves. a butterfly is a great rarity in kew, even a white, though we are surrounded by market gardens. all insects are most rare with us, even the kinds that abound on the opposite side of thames. so with shells, we have literally none--not a helix even, though they abound in the lanes yards off the gardens. of the dezertas insects [only?] are peculiar. of the porto santan are madeiran and dezertan. never mind bothering murray about the new edition of the "origin" for me. you will tell me anything bearing on my subject. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, august th, . dear old darwin, you must not let me worry you. i am an obstinate pig, but you must not be miserable at my looking at the same thing in a different light from you. i must get to the bottom of this question, and that is all i can do. some cleverer fellow one day will knock the bottom out of it, and see his way to explain what to a botanist without a theory to support must be very great difficulties. true enough, all may be explained, as you reason it will be--i quite grant this; but meanwhile all is not so explained, and i cannot accept a hypothesis that leaves so many facts unaccounted for. you say the temperate parts of n. america [are] nearly two and a half times as distant from the azores as europe is. according to a rough calculation on col. james' chart i make e. azores to portugal , west do. to newfoundland , but i am writing to a friend at admiralty to have the distance calculated (which looks like cracking nuts with nasmyth's hammer!) are european birds blown to america? are the azorean erratics an established fact? i want them very badly, though they are not of much consequence, as a slight sinking would hide all evidence of that sort. i do want to sum up impartially, leaving the verdict to jury. i cannot do this without putting all difficulties most clearly. how do you know how you would fare with me if you were a continentalist! then too we must recollect that i have to meet a host who are all on the continental side--in fact, pretty nearly all the thinkers, forbes, hartung, heer, unger, wollaston, lowe (wallace, i suppose), and now andrew murray. i do not regard all these, and snap my fingers at all but you; in my inmost soul i conscientiously say i incline to your theory, but i cannot accept it as an established truth or unexceptionable hypothesis. the "wire bird" being a grallator is a curious fact favourable to you...how i do yearn to go out again to st. helena. of course i accept the ornithological evidence as tremendously strong, though why they should get blown westerly, and not change specifically, as insects, shells, and plants have done, is a mystery. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august th [ ]. it would be a very great pleasure to me if i could think that my letters were of the least use to you. i must have expressed myself badly for you to suppose that i look at islands being stocked by occasional transport as a well-established hypothesis. we both give up creation, and therefore have to account for the inhabitants of islands either by continental extensions or by occasional transport. now, all that i maintain is that of these two alternatives, one of which must be admitted, notwithstanding very many difficulties, occasional transport is by far the most probable. i go thus far further--that i maintain, knowing what we do, that it would be inexplicable if unstocked islands were not stocked to a certain extent at least by these occasional means. european birds are occasionally driven to america, but far more rarely than in the reverse direction: they arrive via greenland (baird); yet a european lark has been caught in bermuda. by the way, you might like to hear that european birds regularly migrate via the northern islands to greenland. about the erratics in the azores see "origin," page . ( / . "origin," edition vi., page . the importance of erratic blocks on the azores is in showing the probability of ice-borne seeds having stocked the islands, and thus accounting for the number of european species and their unexpectedly northern character. darwin's delight in the verification of his theory is described in a letter to sir joseph of april th, , in the "life and letters," ii., page .) hartung could hardly be mistaken about granite blocks on a volcanic island. i do not think it a mystery that birds have not been modified in madeira. ( / . "origin," edition vi., page . madeira has only one endemic bird. darwin accounts for the fact from the island having been stocked with birds which had struggled together and become mutually co-adapted on the neighbouring continents. "hence, when settled in their new homes, each kind will have been kept by the others in its proper place and habits, and will consequently have been but little liable to modification." crossing with frequently arriving immigrants will also tend to keep down modification.) pray look at page of "origin" [edition iii.]. you would not think it a mystery if you had seen the long lists which i have (somewhere) of the birds annually blown, even in flocks, to madeira. the crossed stock would be the more vigorous. remember if you do not come here before nottingham, if you do not come afterwards i shall think myself diabolically ill-used. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, august th, . if my letters did not gene you it is impossible that you should suppose that yours were of no use to me! i would throw up the whole thing were it not for correspondence with you, which is the only bit of silver in the affair. i do feel it disgusting to have to make a point of a speciality in which i cannot see my way a bit further than i could before i began. to be sure, i have a very much clearer notion of the pros and cons on both sides (though these were rather forgotten facts than rediscoveries). i see the sides of the well further down more distinctly, but the bottom is as obscure as ever. i think i know the "origin" by heart in relation to the subject, and it was reading it that suggested the queries about azores boulders and madeira birds. the former you and i have talked over, and i thought i remembered that you wanted it confirmed. the latter strikes me thus: why should plants and insects have been so extensively changed and birds not at all? i perfectly understand and feel the force of your argument in reference to birds per se, but why do these not apply to insects and plants? can you not see that this suggests the conclusion that the plants are derived one way and the birds another? i certainly did take it for granted that you supposed the stocking [by] occasional transport to be something even more than a "well-established hypothesis," but disputants seldom stop to measure the strength of their antagonist's opinion. i shall be with you on saturday week, i hope. i should have come before, but have made so little progress that i could not. i am now at st. helena, and shall then go to, and finish with, kerguelen's land. ( / . after giving the distances of the azores, etc., from america, sir joseph continues:--) but to my mind [it] does not mend the matter--for i do not ask why azores have even proportionally (to distance) a smaller number of american plants, but why they have none, seeing the winds and currents set that way. the bermudas are all american in flora, but from what col. munro informs me i should say they have nothing but common american weeds and the juniper (cedar). no changed forms, yet they are as far from america as azores from europe. i suppose they are modern and out of the pale. ...there is this, to me, astounding difference between certain oceanic islands which were stocked by continental extension and those stocked by immigration (following in both definitions your opinion), that the former [continental] do contain many types of the more distant continent, the latter do not any! take madagascar, with its many asiatic genera unknown in africa; ceylon, with many malayan types not peninsular; japan, with many non-asiatic american types. baird's fact of greenland migration i was aware of since i wrote my arctic paper. i wish i was as satisfied either of continental [extensions] or of transport means as i am of my greenland hypothesis! oh, dear me, what a comfort it is to have a belief (sneer away). letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, december th, . i have just finished the new zealand "manual" ( / . "handbook of the new zealand flora."), and am thinking about a discussion on the geographical distribution, etc., of the plants. there is scarcely a single indigenous annual plant in the group. i wish that i knew more of the past condition of the islands, and whether they have been rising or sinking. there is much that suggests the idea that the islands were once connected during a warmer epoch, were afterwards separated and much reduced in area to what they now are, and lastly have assumed their present size. the remarkable general uniformity of the flora, even of the arboreous flora, throughout so many degrees of latitude, is a very remarkable feature, as is the representation of a good many of the southern half of certain species of the north, by very closely allied varieties or species; and, lastly, there is the immense preponderance of certain genera whose species all run into one another and vary horribly, and which suggest a rising area. i hear that a whale has been found some miles inland. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, december th, . i do not see how the mountains of new zealand, s. australia, and tasmania could have been peopled, and [with] so large an extent of antarctic ( / . "introductory essay to flora of new zealand," page xx. "the plants of the antarctic islands, which are equally natives of new zealand, tasmania, and australia, are almost invariably found only on the lofty mountains of these countries.") forms common to fuegia, without some intercommunication. and i have always supposed this was before the immigration of asiatic plants into australia, and of which plants the temperate and tropical plants of that country may be considered as altered forms. the presence of so many of these temperate and cold australian and new zealand genera on the top of kini balu in borneo (under the equator) is an awful staggerer, and demands a very extended northern distribution of australian temperate forms. it is a frightful assumption that the plains of borneo were covered with a temperate cold vegetation that was driven up kini balu by the returning cold. then there is the very distant distribution of a few australian types northward to the philippines, china, and japan: that is a fearful and wonderful fact, though, as these plants are new zealand too for the most part, the migration northward may have been east of australia. letter . to j.d. hooker. december th [ ]. ...one word more about the flora derived from supposed pleistocene antarctic land requiring land intercommunication. this will depend much, as it seems to me, upon how far you finally settle whether azores, cape de verdes, tristan d'acunha, galapagos, juan fernandez, etc., etc., etc., have all had land intercommunication. if you do not think this necessary, might not new zealand, etc., have been stocked during commencing glacial period by occasional means from antarctic land? as for lowlands of borneo being tenanted by a moderate number of temperate forms during the glacial period, so far [is it] from appearing a "frightful assumption" that i am arrived at that pitch of bigotry that i look at it as proved! letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, december th, . i was about to write to-day, when your jolly letter came this morning, to tell you that after carefully going over the n.z. flora, i find that there are only about thirty reputed indigenous dicot. annuals, of which almost half, not being found by banks and solander, are probably non-indigenous. this is just / th of the dicots., or, excluding the doubtful, about / th, whereas the british proportion of annuals is / . amongst dicots.!!! of the naturalised new zealand plants one-half are annual! i suppose there can be no doubt but that a deciduous-leaved vegetation affords more conditions for vegetable life than an evergreen one, and that it is hence that we find countries characterised by uniform climates to be poor in species, and those to be evergreens. i can now work this point out for new zealand and britain. japan may be an exception: it is an extraordinary evergreen country, and has many species apparently, but it has so much novelty that it may not be so rich in species really as it hence looks, and i do believe it is very poor. it has very few annuals. then, again, i think that the number of plants with irregular flowers, and especially such as require insect agency, diminishes much with evergreenity. hence in all humid temperate regions we have, as a rule, few species, many evergreens, few annuals, few leguminosae and orchids, few lepidoptera and other flying insects, many coniferae, amentaceae, gramineae, cyperaceae, and other wind-fertilised trees and plants, etc. orchids and leguminosae are scarce in islets, because the necessary fertilising insects have not migrated with the plants. perhaps you have published this. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. i like the first part of your paper in the "gard. chronicle" ( / . the lecture on insular floras ("gard. chron." january ).) to an extraordinary degree: you never, in my opinion, wrote anything better. you ask for all, even minute criticisms. in the first column you speak of no alpine plants and no replacement by zones, which will strike every one with astonishment who has read humboldt and webb on zones on teneriffe. do you not mean boreal or arctic plants? ( / . the passage which seems to be referred to does mention the absence of boreal plants.) in the third column you speak as if savages ( / . "such plants on oceanic islands are, like the savages which in some islands have been so long the sole witnesses of their existence, the last representatives of their several races.") had generally viewed the endemic plants of the atlantic islands. now, as you well know, the canaries alone of all the archipelagoes were inhabited. in the third column have you really materials to speak of confirming the proportion of winged and wingless insects on islands? your comparison of plants of madeira with islets of great britain is admirable. ( / . "what should we say, for instance, if a plant so totally unlike anything british as the monizia edulis...were found on one rocky islet of the scillies, or another umbelliferous plant, melanoselinum...on one mountain in wales; or if the isle of wight and scilly islands had varieties, species, and genera too, differing from anything in britain, and found nowhere else in the world!") i must allude to one of your last notes with very curious case of proportion of annuals in new zealand. ( / . on this subject see hildebrand's interesting paper "die lebensdauer der pflanzen" (engler's "botanische jahrbucher," volume ii., , page ). he shows that annuals are rare in very dry desert-lands, in northern and alpine regions. the following table gives the percentages of annuals, etc., in various situations in freiburg (baden):-- annuals. biennials. perennials. trees and shrubs. sandy, dry, and stony places: dry fields: damp fields: woods and copses: water: cultivated land: are annuals adapted for short seasons, as in arctic regions, or tropical countries with dry season, or for periodically disturbed and cultivated ground? you speak of evergreen vegetation as leading to few or confined conditions; but is not evergreen vegetation connected with humid and equable climate? does not a very humid climate almost imply (tyndall) an equable one? i have never printed a word that i can remember about orchids and papilionaceous plants being few in islands on account of rarity of insects; and i remember you screamed at me when i suggested this a propos of papilionaceae in new zealand, and of the statement about clover not seeding there till the hive-bee was introduced, as i stated in my paper in "gard. chronicle." ( / . "in an old number of the "gardeners' chronicle" an extract is given from a new zealand newspaper in which much surprise is expressed that the introduced clover never seeded freely until the hive-bee was introduced." "on the agency of bees in the fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers..." ("gard. chron." , page ). see letter , note.) i have been these last few days vexed and annoyed to a foolish degree by hearing that my ms. on domestic animals, etc., will make two volumes, both bigger than the "origin." the volumes will have to be full-sized octavo, so i have written to murray to suggest details to be printed in small type. but i feel that the size is quite ludicrous in relation to the subject. i am ready to swear at myself and at every fool who writes a book. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. thanks for your jolly letter. i have read your second article ( / . the lecture on insular floras was published in instalments in the "gardeners' chronicle," january th, th, th, th, .), and like it even more than the first, and more than this i cannot say. by mere chance i stumbled yesterday on a passage in humboldt that a violet grows on the peak of teneriffe in common with the pyrenees. if humboldt is right that the canary is. which lie nearest to the continent have a much stronger african character than the others, ought you not just to allude to this? i do not know whether you admit, and if so allude to, the view which seems to me probable, that most of the genera confined to the atlantic islands (i do not say the species) originally existed in, and were derived from, europe, [and have] become extinct on this continent. i should thus account for the community of peculiar genera in the several atlantic islands. about the salvages is capital. ( / . the salvages are rocky islets about midway between madeira and the canaries; and they have an atlantic flora, instead of, as might have been expected, one composed of african immigrants. ("insular floras," page of separate copy.)) i am glad you speak of linking, though this sounds a little too close, instead of being continuous. all about st. helena is grand. you have no faith, but if i knew any one who lived in st. helena i would supplicate him to send me home a cask or two of earth from a few inches beneath the surface from the upper part of the island, and from any dried-up pond, and thus, as sure as i'm a wriggler, i should receive a multitude of lost plants. i did suggest to you to work out proportion of plants with irregular flowers on islands; i did this after giving a very short discussion on irregular flowers in my lythrum paper. ( / . "linn. soc. journ." viii., , page .) but what on earth has a mere suggestion like this to do with meum and tuum? you have comforted me much about the bigness of my book, which yet turns me sick when i think of it. life and letters of thomas henry huxley by his son leonard huxley. in three volumes. volume . (plate: t.h. huxley, photograph by walker and cockerill, ph. sc. signed t.h. huxley, .) contents. chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . - . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . [with the year comes another turning-point in huxley's career. from his return to england in till he had endured four years of hard struggle, of hope deferred; his reputation as a zoologist had been established before his arrival, and was more than confirmed by his personal energy and power. when at length settled in the professorship at jermyn street, he was so far from thinking himself more than a beginner who had learned to work in one corner of the field of knowledge, still needing deep research into all kindred subjects in order to know the true bearings of his own little portion, that he treated the next six years simply as years of further apprenticeship. under the suggestive power of the "origin of species" all these scattered studies fell suddenly into due rank and order; the philosophic unity he had so long been seeking inspired his thought with tenfold vigour, and the battle at oxford in defence of the new hypothesis first brought him before the public eye as one who not only had the courage of his convictions when attacked, but could, and more, would, carry the war effectively into the enemy's country. and for the next ten years he was commonly identified with the championship of the most unpopular view of the time; a fighter, an assailant of long-established fallacies, he was too often considered a mere iconoclast, a subverter of every other well-rooted institution, theological, educational, or moral. it is difficult now to realise with what feelings he was regarded in the average respectable household in the sixties and early seventies. his name was anathema; he was a terrible example of intellectual gravity beyond redemption, a man with opinions such as cannot be held "without grave personal sin on his part" (as was once said of mill by w.g. ward), the representative in his single person of rationalism, materialism, atheism, or if there be any more abhorrent "ism"--in token of which as late as an absurd zealot at the headquarters of the salvation army crowned an abusive letter to him at eastbourne by the statement, "i hear you have a local reputation as a bradlaughite." but now official life began to lay closer hold upon him. he came forward also as a leader in the struggle for educational reform, seeking not only to perfect his own biological teaching, but to show, in theory and practice, how scientific training might be introduced into the general system of education. he was more than once asked to stand for parliament, but refused, thinking he could do more useful work for his country outside. the publication in of "lay sermons," the first of a series of similar volumes, served, by concentrating his moral and intellectual philosophy, to make his influence as a teacher of men more widely felt. the "active scepticism," whose conclusions many feared, was yet acknowledged as the quality of mind which had made him one of the clearest thinkers and safest scientific guides of his time, while his keen sense of right and wrong made the more reflective of those who opposed his conclusions hesitate long before expressing a doubt as to the good influence of his writings. this view is very clearly expressed in a review of the book in the "nation" (new york ). and as another review of the "lay sermons" puts it ("nature" ), he began to be made a kind of popular oracle, yet refused to prophesy smooth things. during the earlier period, with more public demands made upon him than upon most men of science of his age and standing, with the burden of four royal commissions and increasing work in learned societies in addition to his regular lecturing and official paleontological work, and the many addresses and discourses in which he spread abroad in the popular mind the leaven of new ideas upon nature and education and the progress of thought, he was still constantly at work on biological researches of his own, many of which took shape in the hunterian lectures at the college of surgeons from - . but from onward, the time he could spare to such research grew less and less. for eight years he was continuously on one royal commission after another. his administrative work on learned societies continued to increase; in - he held the presidency of the ethnological society, with a view to effecting the amalgamation with the anthropological,] "the plan," [as he calls it,] "for uniting the societies which occupy themselves with man (that excludes 'society' which occupies itself chiefly with woman)." [he became president of the geological society in , and for nearly ten years, from to , he was secretary of the royal society, an office which occupied no small portion of his time and thought, "for he had formed a very high ideal of the duties of the society as the head of science in this country, and was determined that it should not at least fall short through any lack of exertion on his part" (sir m. foster, royal society obituary notice). (see appendix .) the year itself was one of the busiest he had ever known. he published one biological and four paleontological memoirs, and sat on two royal commissions, one on the contagious diseases acts, the other on scientific instruction, which continued until . the three addresses which he gave in the autumn, and his election to the school board will be spoken of later; in the first part of the year he read two papers at the ethnological society, of which he was president, on "the geographical distribution of the chief modifications of mankind," march --and on "the ethnology of britain," may --the substance of which appeared in the "contemporary review" for july under the title of "some fixed points in british ethnology" ("collected essays" ). as president also of the geological society and of the british association, he had two important addresses to deliver. in addition to this, he delivered an address before the y.m.c.a. at cambridge on "descartes' discourse." how busy he was may be gathered from his refusal of an invitation to down:--] abbey place, january , . my dear darwin, it is hard to resist an invitation of yours--but i dine out on saturday; and next week three evenings are abolished by societies of one kind or another. and there is that horrid geological address looming in the future! i am afraid i must deny myself at present. i am glad you liked the sermon. did you see the "devonshire man's" attack in the "pall mall?" i have been wasting my time in polishing that worthy off. i would not have troubled myself about him, if it were not for the political bearing of the celt question just now. my wife sends her love to all you. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the reference to the "devonshire man" is as follows:--huxley had been speaking of the strong similarity between gaul and german, celt and teuton, before the change of character brought about by the latin conquest; and of the similar commixture, a dash of anglo-saxon in the mass of celtic, which prevailed in our western borders and many parts of ireland, e.g. tipperary. the "devonshire man" wrote on january to the "pall mall gazette," objecting to the statement that "devonshire men are as little anglo-saxons as northumbrians are welsh." huxley replied on the st, meeting his historical arguments with citations from freeman, and especially by completing his opponent's quotation from caesar, to show that under certain conditions, the gaul was indistinguishable from the german. the assertion that the anglo-saxon character is midway between the pure french or irish and the teutonic, he met with the previous question, who is the pure frenchman? picard, provencal, or breton? or the pure irish? milesian, firbolg, or cruithneach? but the "devonshire man" did not confine himself to science. he indulged in various personalities, to the smartest of which, a parody of sydney smith's dictum on dr. whewell, huxley replied:--] "a devonshire man" is good enough to say of me that "cutting up monkeys is his forte, and cutting up men is his foible." with your permission, i propose to cut up "a devonshire man"; but i leave it to the public to judge whether, when so employed, my occupation is to be referred to the former or to the latter category. [for this he was roundly lectured by the "spectator" on january , in an article under the heading "pope huxley." regardless of the rights or wrongs of the controversy, he was chidden for the abusive language of the above paragraph, and told that he was a very good anatomist, but had better not enter into discussions on other subjects. the same question is developed in the address to the ethnological society later in the year and in "some fixed points in british ethnology" (see above), and reiterated in an address from the chair in section d at the british association in at dublin, and in a letter to the "times" for october , , apropos of a leading article upon "british race-types of to-day." letter-writing was difficult under such pressure of work, but the claims of absent friends were not wholly forgotten, though left on one side for a time, and the warm-hearted dohrn, could not bear to think himself forgotten, managed to get a letter out of him--not on scientific business.] abbey place, january , . my dear dohrn, in one sense i deserve all the hard things you may have said and thought about me, for it is really scandalous and indefensible that i have not written to you. but in another sense, i do not, for i have very often thought about you and your doings, and as i have told you once before, your memory always remains green in the "happy family." but what between the incessant pressure of work and an inborn aversion to letter-writing, i become a worse and worse correspondent the longer i live, and unless i can find one or two friends who will [be] content to bear with my infirmities and believe that however long before we meet, i shall be ready to take them up again exactly where i left off, i shall be a friendless old man. as for your old goethe, you are mistaken. the scripture says that "a living dog is better than a dead lion," and i am a living dog. by the way, i bought cotta's edition of him the other day, and there he stands on my bookcase in all the glory of gilt, black, and marble edges. do you know i did a version of his "aphorisms on nature" into english the other day. [for the first number of "nature," november .] it astonishes the british philistines not a little. when they began to read it they thought it was mine, and that i had suddenly gone mad! but to return to your affairs instead of my own. i received your volume on the "arthropods" the other day, but i shall not be able to look at it for the next three weeks, as i am in the midst of my lectures, and have an annual address to deliver to the geological society on the th february, when, i am happy to say, my tenure of office as president expires. after that i shall be only too glad to plunge into your doings and, as always, i shall follow your work with the heartiest interest. but i wish you would not take it into your head that darwin or i, or any one else thinks otherwise than highly of you, or that you need "re-establishing" in any one's eyes. but i hope you will not have finished your work before the autumn, as they have made me president of the british association this year, and i shall be very busy with my address in the summer. the meeting is to take place in liverpool on the th september, and i live in hope that you will be able to come over. let me know if you can, that i may secure you good quarters. i shall ask the wife to fill up the next half-sheet. but for heaven's sake don't be angry with me in english again. it's far worse than a scolding in deutsch, and i have as little forgotten my german as i have my german friends. [on february he delivered his farewell address to the geological society, on laying down the office of president. ("palaeontology and the doctrine of evolution" "collected essays" .) he took the opportunity to revise his address to the society in , and pointed out the growth of evidence in favour of evolution theory, and in particular traced the paleontological history of the horse, through a series of fossil types approaching more and more to a generalised ungulate type and reaching back to a three-toed ancestor, or collateral of such an ancestor, itself possessing rudiments of the two other toes which appertain to the average quadruped.] if [he said] the expectation raised by the splints of horses that, in some ancestor of the horses, these splints would be found to be complete digits, has been verified, we are furnished with very strong reasons for looking for a no less complete verification of the expectation that the three-toed plagiolophus-like "avus" of the horse must have been a five-toed "atavus" at some early period. [six years afterwards, this forecast of paleontological research was to be fulfilled, but at the expense of the european ancestry of the horse. a series of ancestors, similar to these european fossils, but still more equine, and extending in unbroken order much farther back in geological time, was discovered in america. his use of this in his new york lectures as demonstrative evidence of evolution, and the immediate fulfilment of a further prophecy of his will be told in due course. his address to the cambridge y.m.c.a, "a commentary on descartes' 'discourse touching the method of using reason rightly, and of seeking scientific truth,'" was delivered on march . this was an attempt to give this distinctively christian audience some vision of the world of science and philosophy, which is neither christian nor unchristian, but extra-christian, and to show] "by what methods the dwellers therein try to distinguish truth from falsehood, in regard to some of the deepest and most difficult problems that beset humanity, "in order to be clear about their actions, and to walk sure-footedly in this life," as descartes says. for descartes had laid the foundation of his own guiding principle of "active scepticism, which strives to conquer itself." [here again, as in the "physical basis of life," but with more detail, he explains how far materialism is legitimate, is, in fact, a sort of shorthand idealism. this essay, too, contains the often-quoted passage, apropos of the] "introduction of calvinism into science." i protest that if some great power would agree to make me always think what is true and do what is right, on condition of being turned into a sort of clock and wound up every morning before i got out of bed, i should instantly close with the offer. the only freedom i care about is the freedom to do right; the freedom to do wrong i am ready to part with on the cheapest terms to any one who will take it of me. [this was the latest of the essays included in "lay sermons, addresses and reviews," which came out, with a dedicatory letter to tyndall, in the summer of , and, whether on account of its subject matter or its title, always remained his most popular volume of essays. to the same period belongs a letter to matthew arnold about his book "st. paul and protestantism."] my dear arnold, many thanks for your book which i have been diving into at odd times as leisure served, and picking up many good things. one of the best is what you say near the end about science gradually conquering the materialism of popular religion. it will startle the puritans who always coolly put the matter the other way; but it is profoundly true. these people are for the most part mere idolaters with a bible-fetish, who urgently stand in need of conversion by extra-christian missionaries. it takes all one's practical experience of the importance of puritan ways of thinking to overcome one's feeling of the unreality of their beliefs. i had pretty well forgotten how real to them "the man in the next street" is, till your citation of their horribly absurd dogmas reminded me of it. if you can persuade them that paul is fairly interpretable in your sense, it may be the beginning of better things, but i have my doubts if paul would own you, if he could return to expound his own epistles. i am glad you like my descartes article. my business with my scientific friends is something like yours with the puritans, nature being our paul. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. abbey place, may , . [from the th to the th of april huxley, accompanied by his friend hooker, made a trip to the eifel country. his sketch-book is full of rapid sketches of the country, many of them geological; one day indeed there are eight, another nine such. tyndall was invited to join the party, and at first accepted, but then recollected the preliminaries which had to be carried out before his lectures on electricity at the end of the month. so he writes on april :-- royal institution, april. my dear huxley, i was rendered drunk by the excess of prospective pleasure when you mentioned the eifel yesterday, and took no account of my lectures. they begin on the th, and i have studiously to this hour excluded them from my thought. i have made arrangements to see various experiments involving the practical application of electricity before the lectures begin; i find myself, in short, cut off from the expedition. my regret on this score is commensurable with the pleasures i promised myself. confound the lectures! and yours on friday is creating a pretty hubbub already. (on the pedigree of the horse" april , , which was never brought out in book form.) i am torn to pieces by women in search of tickets. anything that touches progenitorship interests them. you will have a crammed house, i doubt not. yours ever, john tyndall. huxley replied:--] geological survey of england and wales, april , . my dear tyndall, damn the l e c t u r e s. t.h.h. that's a practical application of electricity for you. [in june he writes to his wife, who has taken a sick child to the seaside:--] i hear a curious rumour (which is not for circulation), that froude and i have been proposed for d.c.l.'s at commemoration, and that the proposition has been bitterly and strongly opposed by pusey. [huxley ultimately received his d.c.l. in .] they say there has been a regular row in oxford about it. i suppose this is at the bottom of jowett's not writing to me. but i hope that he won't fancy that i should be disgusted at the opposition and object to come [i.e. to pay his regular visit to balliol]. on the contrary, the more complete pusey's success, the more desirable it is that i should show my face there. altogether it is an awkward position, as i am supposed to know nothing of what is going on. [the situation is further developed in a letter to darwin:--] jermyn street, june , . my dear darwin, i sent the books to queen anne st. this morning. pray keep them as long as you like, as i am not using them. i am greatly disgusted that you are coming up to london this week, as we shall be out of town next sunday. it is the rarest thing in the world for us to be away, and you have pitched upon the one day. cannot we arrange some other day? i wish you could have gone to oxford, not for your sake, but for theirs. there seems to have been a tremendous shindy in the hebdomadal board about certain persons who were proposed; and i am told that pusey came to london to ascertain from a trustworthy friend who were the blackest heretics out of the list proposed, and that he was glad to assent to your being doctored, when he got back, in order to keep out seven devils worse than that first! ever, oh coryphaeus diabolicus, your faithful follower, t.h. huxley. [the choice of a subject for his presidential address at the british association for , a subject which, as he put it,] "has lain chiefly in a land flowing with the abominable, and peopled with mere grubs and mouldiness," [was suggested by a recent controversy upon the origin of life, in which the experiments of dr. bastian, then professor of pathological anatomy at university college, london, which seemed to prove spontaneous generation, were shown by professor tyndall to contain a flaw. huxley had naturally been deeply interested from the first; he had been consulted by dr. bastian, and, i believe, had advised him not to publish until he had made quite sure of his ground. this question and the preparation of the course of elementary biology [see below.] led him to carry on a series of investigations lasting over two years, which took shape in a paper upon "penicillium, torula, and bacterium", first read in section d at the british association, ("quarterly journal of micr. science" pages - .); and in his article on "yeast" in the "contemporary review" for december . he laboriously repeated pasteur's experiments, and for years a quantity of flasks and cultures used in this work remained at south kensington, until they were destroyed in the eighties. of this work sir j. hooker writes to him:-- you have made an immense leap in the association of forms, and i cannot but suppose you approach the final solution... i have always fancied that it was rather brains and boldness, than eyes or microscopes that the mycologists wanted, and that there was more brains in berkeley's [reverend m.j. berkeley.] crude discoveries than in the very best of the french and german microscopic verifications of them, who filch away the credit of them from under berkeley's nose, and pooh-pooh his reasoning, but for which we should be, as we were. in his presidential address, "biogenesis and abiogenesis" ("collected essays" page ), he discussed the rival theories of spontaneous generation and the universal derivation of life from precedent life, and professed his belief, as an act of philosophic faith, that at some remote period, life had arisen out of inanimate matter, though there was no evidence that anything of the sort had occurred recently, the germ theory explaining many supposed cases of spontaneous generation. the history of the subject, indeed, showed] "the great tragedy of science--the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact--which is so constantly being enacted under the eyes of philosophers," and recalled the warning "that it is one thing to refute a proposition, and another to prove the truth of a doctrine which, implicitly or explicitly, contradicts that proposition." [two letters to dr. dohrn refer to this address and to the meeting of the association.] jermyn street, april , . my dear whirlwind, i have received your two letters; and i was just revolving in my mind how best to meet your wishes in regard to the very important project mentioned in the first, when the second arrived and put me at rest. i hope i need not say how heartily i enter into all your views, and how glad i shall be to see your plan for "stations" carried into effect. [dr. dohrn succeeded in establishing such a zoological "station" at naples.] nothing could have a greater influence upon the progress of zoology. a plan was set afoot here some time ago to establish a great marine aquarium at brighton by means of a company. they asked me to be their president, but i declined, on the ground that i did not desire to become connected with any commercial undertaking. what has become of the scheme i do not know, but i doubt whether it would be of any use to you, even if any connection could be established. as soon as you have any statement of your project ready, send it to me and i will take care that it is brought prominently before the british public so as to stir up their minds. and then we will have a regular field-day about it in section d at liverpool. let me know your new ideas about insects and vertebrata as soon as possible, and i promise to do my best to pull them to pieces. what between kowalesky and his ascidians, miklucho-maclay [a russian naturalist, and close friend of haeckel's, who later adventured himself alone among the cannibals of new guinea.] and his fish-brains, and you and your arthropods, i am becoming schwindelsuchtig, and spend my time mainly in that pious ejaculation "donner and blitz," in which, as you know, i seek relief. then there is our bastian who is making living things by the following combination:-- prescription: ammoniae carbonatis sodae phosphatis aquae destillatae quantum sufficit caloris degrees centigrade vacui perfectissimi patientiae. transubstantiation will be nothing to this if it turns out to be true, and you may go and tell your neighbour januarius to shut up his shop as the heretics mean to outbid him. now i think that the best service i can render to all you enterprising young men is to turn devil's advocate, and do my best to pick holes in your work. by the way, miklucho-maclay has been here; i have seen a good deal of him, and he strikes me as a man of very considerable capacity and energy. he was to return to jena to-day. my friend herbert spencer will be glad to learn that you appreciate his book. i have been his devil's advocate for a number of years, and there is no telling how many brilliant speculations i have been the means of choking in an embryonic state. my wife does not know that i am writing to you, or she would say apropos of your last paragraph that you are an entirely unreasonable creature in your notions of how friendship should be manifested, and that you make no allowances for the oppression and exhaustion of the work entailed by what jean paul calls a "tochtervolles haus." i hope i may live to see you with at least ten children, and then my wife and i will be avenged. our children will be married and settled by that time, and we shall have time to write every day and get very wroth when you do not reply immediately. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. all are well, the children so grown you will not know them. july , . my dear dohrn, notwithstanding the severe symptoms of "tochterkrankheit" under which i labour, i find myself equal to reply to your letter. the british association meets in september on the th day of that month, which falls on a wednesday. of course, if you come you shall be provided for by the best specimen of liverpool hospitality. we have ample provision for the entertainment of the "distinguished foreigner." will you be so good as to be my special ambassador with haeckel and gegenbauer, and tell them the same thing? it would give me and all of us particular pleasure to see them and to take care of them. but i am afraid that this wretched war will play the very deuce with our foreign friends. if you germans do not give that crowned swindler, whose fall i have been looking for ever since the coup d'etat, such a blow as he will never recover from, i will never forgive you. public opinion in england is not worth much, but at present, it is entirely against france. even the "times," which generally contrives to be on the baser side of a controversy, is at present on the german side. and my daughters announced to me yesterday that they had converted a young friend of theirs from the french to the german side, which is one gained for you. all look forward with great pleasure to seeing you in the autumn. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in addition to this address on september , he read his paper on "penicillium," etc., in section d on the th. speaking on the th, after a lecture of sir j. lubbock's on the "social and religious condition of the lower races of mankind," he brought forward his own experiences as to the practical results of the beliefs held by the australian savages, and from this passed to the increasing savagery of the lower classes in great towns such as liverpool, which was the great political question of the future, and for which the only cure lay in a proper system of education. the savagery underlying modern civilisation was all the more vividly before him, because one evening he, together with sir j. lubbock, dr. bastian, and mr. samuelson, were taken by the chief of the detective department round some of the worst slums in liverpool. in thieves' dens, doss houses, dancing saloons, enough of suffering and criminality was seen to leave a very deep and painful impression. in one of these places, a thieves' lodging-house, a drunken man with a cut face accosted him and asked him whether he was a doctor. he said "yes," whereupon the man asked him to doctor his face. he had been fighting, and was terribly excited. huxley tried to pacify him, but if it had not been for the intervention of the detective, the man would have assaulted him. afterwards he asked the detective if he were not afraid to go alone in these places, and got the significant answer, "lord bless you, sir, drink and disease take all the strength out of them." on the st, after the general meeting of the association, which wound up the proceedings, the historical society of lancashire and cheshire presented a diploma of honorary membership and a gift of books to huxley, sir g. stokes, and sir j. hooker, the last three presidents of the british association, and to professors tyndall and rankine and sir j. lubbock, the lecturers at liverpool. then huxley was presented with a mazer bowl lined with silver, made from part of one of the roof timbers of the cottage occupied as his headquarters by prince rupert during the siege of liverpool. he was rather taken aback when he found the bowl was filled with champagne, after a moment, however, he drank] "success to the good old town of liverpool," [and with a wave of his hand, threw the rest on the floor, saying,] "i pour this as a libation to the tutelary deities of the town." [the same evening he was the guest of the sphinx club at dinner at the royal hotel, his friend mr. p.h. rathbone being in the chair, and in proposing the toast of the town and trade of liverpool, declared that commerce was a greater civiliser than all the religion and all the science ever put together in the world, for it taught men to be truthful and punctual and precise in the execution of their engagements, and men who were truthful and punctual and precise in the execution of their engagements had put their feet upon the first rung of the ladder which led to moral and intellectual elevation. there were the usual clerical attacks on the address, among the rest a particularly violent one from a unitarian pulpit. writing to mr. samuelson on october he says:--] be not vexed on account of the godly. they will have their way. i found mr. --'s sermon awaiting me on my return home. it is an able paper, but like the rest of his cloth he will not take the trouble to make himself acquainted with the ideas of the man whom he opposes. at least that is the case if he imagines he brings me under the range of his guns. [on october he writes to tyndall:--] i have not yet thanked you properly for your great contribution to the success of our meeting [i.e. his lecture "on the scientific uses of the imagination"]. i was nervous over the passage about the clergy, but those confounded parsons seem to me to let you say anything, while they bully me for a word or a phrase. it's the old story, "one man may steal a horse while the other may not look over the wall." [tyndall was not to be outdone, and replied:-- the parsons know very well that i mean kindness; if i correct them i do it in love and not in wrath. one more extract from a letter to dr. dohrn, under date of november . the first part is taken up with a long and detailed description of the best english microscopes and their price, for dr. dohrn wished to get one; and my father volunteered to procure it for him. the rest of the letter has a more general interest as giving his views on the great struggle between france and germany then in progress, his distrust of militarism, and above all, his hatred of lying, political as much as any other:--] this wretched war is doing infinite mischief; but i do not see what germany can do now but carry it out to the end. i began to have some sympathy with the french after sedan, but the republic lies harder than the empire did, and the whole country seems to me to be rotten to the core. the only figure which stands out with anything like nobility or dignity, on the french side, is that of the empress, and she is only a second-rate marie-antoinette. there is no roland, no corday, and apparently no man of any description. the russian row is beginning, and the rottenness of english administration will soon, i suppose, have an opportunity of displaying itself. bad days are, i am afraid, in store for all of us, and the worst for germany if it once becomes thoroughly bitten by the military mad dog. the "happy family" is flourishing and was afflicted, even over its breakfast, when i gave out the news that you had been ill. the wife desires her best remembrances, and we all hope you are better. [the high pressure under which huxley worked, and his abundant output, continued undiminished through the autumn and winter. indeed, he was so busy that he postponed his lectures to working men in london from october to february . on october he lectured in leicester on "what is to be learned from a piece of coal," a parallel lecture to that of on "a piece of chalk." on the th and th he lectured at birmingham on "extinct animals intermediate between reptiles and birds"--a subject which he had made peculiarly his own by long study; and on december he was at bradford, and lectured at the philosophical institute upon "the formation of coal" ("collected essays" .). he was also busy with two royal commissions; still, at whatever cost of the energy and time due to his own investigations and those additional labours by which he increased his none too abundant income, he felt it his duty, in the interests of his ideal of education, to come forward as a candidate for the newly-instituted school board for london. this was the practical outcome of the rising interest in education all over the country; on its working, he felt, depended momentous issues--the fostering of the moral and physical well-being of the nation; the quickening of its intelligence and the maintenance of its commercial supremacy. withal, he desired to temper "book-learning" with something of the direct knowledge of nature: on the one hand, as an admirable instrument of education, if properly applied; on the other, as preparing the way for an attitude of mind which could appreciate the reasons for the immense changes already beginning to operate in human thought. moreover, he possessed a considerable knowledge of the working of elementary education throughout the country, owing to his experience as examiner under the science and art department, the establishment of which he describes as "a measure which came into existence unnoticed, but which will, i believe, turn out to be of more importance to the welfare of the people than many political changes over which the noise of battle has rent the air" ("scientific education" ; "collected essays" page .) accordingly, though with health uncertain, and in the midst of exacting occupations, he felt that he ought not to stand aside at so critical a moment, and offered himself for election in the marylebone division with a secret sense that rejection would in many ways be a great relief. the election took place on november , and huxley came out second on the poll. he had had neither the means nor the time for a regular canvass of the electors. he was content to address several public meetings, and leave the result to the interest he could awaken amongst his hearers. his views were further brought before the public by the action of the editor of the "contemporary review," who, before the election, "took upon himself, in what seemed to him to be the public interest," to send to the newspapers an extract from huxley's article, "the school boards: what they can do, and what they may do," which was to appear in the december number. in this article will be found ("collected essays" page ) a full account of the programme which he laid down for himself, and which to a great extent he saw carried into effect, in its fourfold division--of physical drill and discipline, not only to improve the physique of the children, but as an introduction to all other sorts of training--of domestic training, especially for girls--of education in the knowledge of moral and social laws and the engagement of the affections for what is good and against what is evil--and finally, of intellectual training. and it should be noted that he did not only regard intellectual training from the utilitarian point of view; he insisted, e.g. on the value of reading for amusement as] "one of its most valuable uses to hard-worked people." [much as he desired that this intellectual training should be efficient, the most cursory perusal of this article will show how far he placed the moral training above the intellectual, which, by itself, would only turn the gutter-child into] "the subtlest of all the beasts of the field," [and how wide of the mark is the cartoon at this period representing him as the professor whose panacea for the ragged children was to] "cram them full of nonsense." [in the third section are also to be found his arguments for the retention of bible-reading in the elementary schools. he reproached extremists of either party for confounding the science, theology, with the affection, religion, and either crying for more theology under the name of religion, or demanding the abolition of] "religious" [teaching in order to get rid of theology, a step which he likens to] "burning your ship to get rid of the cockroaches." [as regards his actual work on the board, i must express my thanks to dr. j.h. gladstone for his kindness in supplementing my information with an account based partly on his own long experience of the board, partly on the reminiscences of members contemporary with my father. the board met first on december , for the purpose of electing a chairman. as a preliminary, huxley proposed and carried a motion that no salary be attached to the post. he was himself one of the four members proposed for the chairmanship; but the choice of the board fell upon lord lawrence. in the words of dr. gladstone:-- huxley at once took a prominent part in the proceedings, and continued to do so till the beginning of the year , when ill-health compelled him to retire. at first there was much curiosity both inside and outside the board as to how huxley would work with the old educationists, the clergy, dissenting ministers, and the miscellaneous body of eminent men that comprised the first board. his antagonism to many of the methods employed in elementary schools was well known from his various discourses, which had been recently published together under the title of "lay sermons, addresses, and reviews." i watched his course with interest at the time; but for the purpose of this sketch i have lately sought information from such of the old members of the board as are still living, especially the earl of harrowby, bishop barry, the reverend dr. angus, and mr. edward north buxton, together with mr. croad, the clerk of the board. they soon found proof of his great energy, and his power of expressing his views in clear and forcible language; but they also found that with all his strong convictions and lofty ideals he was able and willing to enter into the views of others, and to look at a practical question from its several sides. he could construct as well as criticise. having entered a public arena somewhat late in life, and being of a sensitive nature, he had scarcely acquired that calmness and pachydermatous quality which is needful for one's personal comfort; but his colleagues soon came to respect him as a perfectly honest antagonist or supporter, and one who did not allow differences of conviction to interfere with friendly intercourse. the various sections of the clerical party indeed looked forward with great apprehension to his presence on the board, but the more liberal amongst them ventured to find ground for hoping that they and he would not be utterly opposed so far as the work of practical organisation was concerned, in the declaration of his belief that true education was impossible without "religion," of which he declared that all that has an unchangeable reality in it is constituted by the love of some ethical ideal to govern and guide conduct,] "together with the awe and reverence, which have no kinship with base fear, but rise whenever one tries to pierce below the surface of things, whether they be material or spiritual." [and in fact a cleavage took place between him and the seven extreme "secularists" on the board (the seven champions of unchristendom, as their opponents dubbed them) on the question of the reading of the bible in schools (see below (bishop barry calls particular attention to his attitude on this point, "because," he says, "it is (i think) often misunderstood. in the "life of the right honourable w.h. smith" (for instance), published not long ago, huxley is supposed, as a matter of course to have been the leader of the secularist party.") one of the earliest proposals laid before the board was a resolution to open the meetings with prayer. to this considerable opposition was offered; but a bitter debate was averted by huxley pointing out that the proposal was ultra vires, inasmuch as under the act constituting the board the business for which they were empowered to meet did not include prayer. hereupon a requisition--in which he himself joined--was made to allow the use of a committee-room to those who wished to unite in a short service before the weekly meetings, an arrangement which has continued to the present time. at the second meeting, on december , he gave notice of a motion to appoint a committee to consider and report upon the scheme of education to be adopted in the board schools. this motion came up for consideration on february , . in introducing it, he said that such a committee ought to consider:--] first, the general nature and relations of the schools which may come under the board. secondly, the amount of time to be devoted to educational purposes in such schools; and thirdly, the subject-matter of the instruction or education, or teaching, or training, which is to be given in these schools. [but this, by itself, he continued, would be incomplete. at one end of the scale he advocated infant schools, and urged a connection with the excellent work of the ragged schools. at the other end he desired to see continuation schools, and ultimately some scheme of technical education. a comprehensive scheme, indeed, would involve an educational ladder from the gutter to the university, whereby children of exceptional ability might reach the place for which nature had fitted them. the subject matter of elementary instruction must be limited by what was practicable and desirable. the revised code had done too little; it had taught the use of the tools of learning, while denying all sorts of knowledge on which to exercise them afterwards. and here incidentally he repudiated the notion that the english child was stupid; on the contrary, he thought the two finest intellects in europe at this time were the english and the italian. in particular he advocated the teaching of] "the first elements of physical science"; "by which i do not mean teaching astronomy and the use of the globes, and the rest of the abominable trash--but a little instruction of the child in what is the nature of common things about him; what their properties are, and in what relation this actual body of man stands to the universe outside of it." "there is no form of knowledge or instruction in which children take greater interest." [drawing and music, too, he considered, should be taught in every elementary school, not to produce painters or musicians, but as civilising arts. history, except the most elementary notions, he put out of court, as too advanced for children. finally, he proposed a list of members to serve on the education committee in a couple of sentences with a humorous twist in them which disarmed criticism.] "on a former occasion i was accused of having a proclivity in favour of the clergy, and recollecting this, i have only given them in this instance a fair proportion of the representation. if, however, i have omitted any gentleman who thinks he ought to be on the committee, i can only assure him that above all others i should have been glad to put him on." [that day week the committee was elected, about a third of the members of the board being chosen to serve on it. at the same meeting, dr. gladstone continues:-- mr. w.h. smith, the well-known member of parliament, proposed, and mr. samuel morley, m.p., seconded, a resolution in favour of religious teaching--"that, in the schools provided by the board, the bible shall be read, and there shall be given therefrom such explanations and such instruction in the principles of religion and morality as are suited to the capacities of children," with certain provisos. several antagonistic amendments were proposed; but professor huxley gave his support to mr. smith's resolutions, which, however, he thought might be trimmed and amended in a way that the reverend dr. angus had suggested. his speech, defining his own position, was a very remarkable one. he said] "it was assumed in the public mind that this question of religious instruction was a little family quarrel between the different sects of protestantism on the one hand, and the old catholic church on the other. side by side with this much shivered and splintered protestantism of theirs, and with the united fabric of the catholic church (not so strong temporally as she used to be, otherwise he might not have been addressing them at that moment), there was a third party growing up into very considerable and daily increasing significance, which had nothing to do with either of those great parties, and which was pushing its own way independent of them, having its own religion and its own morality, which rested in no way whatever on the foundations of the other two." [he thought that] "the action of the board should be guided and influenced very much by the consideration of this third great aspect of things," [which he called the scientific aspect, for want of a better name.] "it had been very justly said that they had a great mass of low half-instructed population which owed what little redemption from ignorance and barbarism it possessed mainly to the efforts of the clergy of the different denominations. any system of gaining the attention of these people to these matters must be a system connected with, or not too rudely divorced from their own system of belief. he wanted regulations, not in accordance with what he himself thought was right, but in the direction in which thought was moving." [he wanted an elastic system, that did not oppose any obstacle to the free play of the public mind. huxley voted against all the proposed amendments, and in favour of mr. smith's motion. there were only three who voted against it; while the three roman catholic members refrained from voting. this basis of religious instruction, practically unaltered, has remained the law of the board ever since. there was a controversy in the papers, between professor huxley and the reverend w.h. fremantle, as to the nature of the explanations of the bible lessons. huxley maintained that it should be purely grammatical, geographical, and historical in its nature; fremantle that it should include some species of distinct religious teaching, but not of a denominational character. (cp. extract from lord shaftesbury's journal about this correspondence ("life and work of lord shaftesbury" ). "professor huxley has this definition of morality and religion:] 'teach a child what is wise, that is morality. teach him what is wise and beautiful, that is religion!' let no one henceforth despair of making things clear and of giving explanations!") [in taking up this position, huxley expressly disclaimed any desire for a mere compromise to smooth over a difficulty. he supported what appeared to be the only workable plan under the circumstances, though it was not his ideal; for he would not have used the bible as the agency for introducing the religious and ethical idea into education if he had been dealing with a fresh and untouched population. his appreciation of the literary and historical value of the bible, and the effect it was likely to produce upon the school children, circumstanced as they were, is sometimes misunderstood to be an endorsement of the vulgar idea of it. but it always remained his belief] "that the principle of strict secularity in state education is sound, and must eventually prevail." [(as a result of some remarks of mr. clodd's on the matter in "pioneers of evolution," a correspondent, some time after, wrote to him as follows:-- "in the report upon state education in new zealand, , drawn up by r. laishly, the following occurs, page :--'professor huxley gives me leave to state his opinion to be that the principle of strict secularity in state education is sound, and must eventually prevail.'" his views on dogmatic teaching in state schools, may be gathered further from two letters at the period when an attempt was being made to upset the so-called compromise. the first appeared in the "times" of april , :--] sir, in a leading article of your issue of to-day you state, with perfect accuracy, that i supported the arrangement respecting religious instruction agreed to by the london school board in , and hitherto undisturbed. but you go on to say that "the persons who framed the rule" intended it to include definite teaching of such theological dogmas as the incarnation. i cannot say what may have been in the minds of the framers of the rule; but, assuredly, if i had dreamed that any such interpretation could fairly be put upon it, i should have opposed the arrangement to the best of my ability. in fact, a year before the rule was framed i wrote an article in the "contemporary review," entitled "the school boards--what they can do and what they may do," in which i argued that the terms of the education act excluded such teaching as it is now proposed to include. and i support my contention by the following citation from the speech delivered by mr. forster at the birkbeck institution in :-- ["i have the fullest confidence that in the reading and explaining of the bible what the children will be taught will be the great truths of christian life and conduct, which all of us desire they should know, and that no efforts will be made to cram into their poor little minds theological dogmas which their tender age prevents them from understanding." i am, sir, your obedient servant, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, april . [the second is to a correspondent who wrote to ask him whether adhesion to the compromise had not rendered nonsensical the teaching given in a certain lesson upon the finding of the youthful jesus in the temple, when, after they had read the verse, "how is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that i must be about my father's business?" the teacher asked the children the name of jesus' father and mother, and accepted the simple answer, joseph and mary. thus the point of the story, whether regarded as reality or myth, is slurred over, the result is perplexity, the teaching, in short, is bad, apart from all theory as to the value of the bible. in a letter to the "chronicle," which he forwarded, this correspondent suggested a continuation of the "incriminated lesson":-- suppose, then, that an intelligent child of seven, who has just heard it read out that jesus excused himself to his parents for disappearing for three days, on the ground that he was about his father's business, and has then learned that his father's name was joseph, had said, "please, teacher, was this the jesus that gave us the lord's prayer?" the teacher answers, "yes." and suppose the child rejoins, "and is it to his father joseph that he bids us pray when we say our father?" but there are boys of nine, ten, eleven years in board schools, and many such boys are intelligent enough to take up the subject of the lesson where the instructor left it. "please, teacher," asks one of these, "what business was it that jesus had to do for his father joseph? had he stopped behind to get a few orders? was it true that he had been about joseph's business? and, if it was not, did he not deserve to be punished?" huxley replied on october , :--] dear sir, i am one with you in hating "hush up" as i do all other forms of lying; but i venture to submit that the compromise of was not a "hush-up." if i had taken it to be such i should have refused to have anything to do with it. and more specifically, i said in a letter to the "times" (see "times," th april ) at the beginning of the present controversy, that if i had thought the compromise involved the obligatory teaching of such dogmas as the incarnation i should have opposed it. there has never been the slightest ambiguity about my position in this matter; in fact, if you will turn to one paper on the school board written by me before my election in , i think you will find that i anticipated the pith of the present discussion. the persons who agreed to the compromise, did exactly what all sincere men who agree to compromise, do. for the sake of the enormous advantage of giving the rudiments of a decent education to several generations of the people, they accepted what was practically an armistice in respect of certain matters about which the contending parties were absolutely irreconcilable. the clericals have now "denounced" the treaty, doubtless thinking they can get a new one more favourable to themselves. from my point of view, i am not sure that it might not be well for them to succeed, so that the sweep into space which would befall them in the course of the next twenty-three years might be complete and final. as to the case you put to me--permit me to continue the dialogue in another shape. boy.--please, teacher, if joseph was not jesus' father and god was, why did mary say, "thy father and i have sought thee sorrowing"? how could god not know where jesus was? how could he be sorry? teacher.--when jesus says father, he means god; but when mary says father, she means joseph. boy.--then mary didn't know god was jesus' father? teacher.--oh, yes, she did (reads the story of the annunciation). boy.--it seems to me very odd that mary used language which she knew was not true, and taught her son to call joseph father. but there's another odd thing about her. if she knew her child was god's son, why was she alarmed about his safety? surely she might have trusted god to look after his own son in a crowd. i know of children of six and seven who are quite capable of following out such a line of inquiry with all the severe logic of a moral sense which has not been sophisticated by pious scrubbing. i could tell you of stranger inquiries than these which have been made by children in endeavouring to understand the account of the miraculous conception. whence i conclude that even in the interests of what people are pleased to call christianity (though it is my firm conviction that jesus would have repudiated the doctrine of the incarnation as warmly as that of the trinity), it may be well to leave things as they are. all this is for your own eye. there is nothing in substance that i have not said publicly, but i do not feel called upon to say it over again, or get mixed up in an utterly wearisome controversy. i am, yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [however, he was unsuccessful in his proposal that a selection be made of passages for reading from the bible; the board refused to become censors. on may he raised the question of the diversion from the education of poor children of charitable bequests, which ought to be applied to the augmentation of the school fund. in speaking to this motion he said that the long account of errors and crimes of the catholic church was greatly redeemed by the fact that that church had always borne in mind the education of the poor, and had carried out the great democratic idea that the soul of every man was of the same value in the eyes of his maker. the next matter of importance in which he took part was on june , when the committee on the scheme of education presented its first report. dr. gladstone writes:-- it was a very voluminous document. the committee had met every week, and, in the words of huxley,] "what it had endeavoured to do, was to obtain some order and system and uniformity in important matters, whilst in comparatively unimportant matters they thought some play should be given for the activity of the bodies of men into whose hands the management of the various schools should be placed." [the recommendations were considered on june and july , and passed without any material alterations or additions. they were very much the same as existed in the best elementary schools of the period. huxley's chief interest, it may be surmised, was in the subjects of instruction. it was passed that, in infants' schools there should be the bible, reading, writing, arithmetic, object lessons of a simple character, with some such exercise of the hands and eyes as is given in the kindergarten system, music, and drill. in junior and senior schools the subjects of instruction were divided into two classes, essential and discretionary, the essentials being the bible, and the principles of religion and morality, reading, writing, and arithmetic, english grammar and composition, elementary geography, and elementary social economy, history of england, the principles of book-keeping in senior schools, with mensuration in senior boys' schools. all through the six years there were to be systematised object lessons, embracing a course of elementary instruction in physical science, and serving as an introduction to the science examinations conducted by the science and art department. an analogous course of instruction was adopted for elementary evening schools. in moving] "that the formation of science and art classes in connection with public elementary schools be encouraged and facilitated," [huxley contended strongly for it, saying,] "the country could not possibly commit a greater error than in establishing schools in which the direct applications of science and art were taught before those who entered the classes were grounded in the principles of physical science." [in advocating object lessons he said,] "the position that science was now assuming, not only in relation to practical life, but to thought, was such that those who remained entirely ignorant of even its elementary facts were in a wholly unfair position as regarded the world of thought and the world of practical life." [it was, moreover,] "the only real foundation for technical education." [other points in which he was specially concerned were, that the universal teaching of drawing was accepted, against an amendment excluding girls; that domestic economy was made a discretionary substitute for needlework and cutting-out; while he spoke in defence of latin as a discretionary subject, alternatively with a modern language. it was true that he would not have proposed it in the first instance, not because a little latin is a bad thing, but for fear of] "overloading the boat." [but, on the other hand, there was great danger if education were not thrown open to all without restriction. if it be urged that a man should be content with the state of life to which he is called, the obvious retort is, how do you know what is your state of life, unless you try what you are called to? there is no more frightful] "sitting on the safety valve" [than in preventing men of ability from having the means of rising to the positions for which they, by their talents and industry, could qualify themselves. further, although the committee as a whole recommended that discretionary subjects should be extras, he wished them to be covered by the general payment, in which sense the report was amended. this education committee (proceeds dr. gladstone) continued to sit, and on november brought up a report in favour of the prussian system of separate classrooms, to be tried in one school as an experiment. this reads curiously now that it has become the system almost universally adopted in the london board schools. in regard to examinations huxley strongly supported the view that the teaching in all subjects, secular or sacred, should be periodically tested. on december , huxley raised the question whether the selection of books and apparatus should be referred to his committee or to the school management committee, and on january following, a small sub-committee for that object was formed. almost immediately after this he retired from the board. one more speech of his, which created a great stir at the time, must be referred to, namely his expression of undisguised hostility to the system of education maintained by the ultramontane section of the roman catholics. (cp. "scientific education" "collected essays" page .) in october the bye-laws came up for consideration. one of them provided that the board should pay over direct to denominational schools the fees for poor children. this he opposed on the ground that it would lead to repeated contests on the board, and further, might be used as a tool by the ultramontanes for their own purposes. believing that their system as set forth in the syllabus, of securing complete possession of the minds of those whom they taught or controlled, was destructive to all that was highest in the nature of mankind, and inconsistent with intellectual and political liberty, he considered it his earnest duty to oppose all measures which would lead to assisting the ultramontanes in their purpose. hereupon he was vehemently attacked, for example, in the "times" for his "injudicious and even reprehensible tone" which "aggravated the difficulties his opponents might have in giving way to him." was this, it was asked, the way to get roman catholic children to the board schools? was it not an abandonment of the ideal of compulsory education? it is hardly necessary to point out that the question was not between the compulsory inclusion or exclusion of poor children, but between their admission at the cost of the board to schools under the board's own control or outside it. in any case the children of roman catholics were not likely to get their own doctrines taught in board schools, and without this they declared they would rather go without education at all. early in huxley retired. for a year he had continued at this task; then his health broke down, and feeling that he had done his part, from no personal motives of ambition, but rather at some cost to himself, for what he held to be national ends, he determined not to resume the work after the rest which was to restore him to health, and made his resignation definite. dr. gladstone writes:-- on february a letter of resignation was received from him, stating that he was] "reluctantly compelled, both on account of his health and his private affairs, to insist on giving up his seat at the board." [the reverend dr. rigg, canon miller, mr. charles reed, and lord lawrence expressed their deep regret. in the words of dr. rigg, "they were losing one of the most valuable members of the board, not only because of his intellect and trained acuteness, but because of his knowledge of every subject connected with culture and education, and because of his great fairness and impartiality with regard to all subjects that came under his observation." though huxley quitted the board after only fourteen months' service, the memory of his words and acts combined to influence it long afterwards. in various ways he expressed his opinion on educational matters, publicly and privately. he frequently talked with me on the subject at the athenaeum club, and shortly after my election to the board in , i find it recorded in my diary that he insisted strongly on the necessity of our building infants' schools,--] "people may talk about intellectual teaching, but what we principally want is the moral teaching." as to the sub-committee on books and apparatus, it did little at first, but at the beginning of the second board, , it became better organised under the presidency of the reverend benjamin waugh. at the commencement of the next triennial term i became the chairman, and continued to be such for eighteen years. it was our duty to put into practice the scheme of instruction which huxley was mainly instrumental in settling. we were thus able indirectly to improve both the means and methods of teaching. the subjects of instruction have all been retained in the curriculum of the london school board, except, perhaps, "mensuration" and "social economy." the most important developments and additions have been in the direction of educating the hand and eye. kindergarten methods have been promoted. drawing, on which huxley laid more stress than his colleagues generally did, has been enormously extended and greatly revolutionised in its methods. object lessons and elementary science have been introduced everywhere, while shorthand, the use of tools for boys, cookery and domestic economy for girls are becoming essentials in our schools. evening continuation schools have lately been widely extended. thus the impulse given by huxley in the first months of the board's existence has been carried forward by others, and is now affecting the minds of the half million of boys and girls in the board schools of london, and indirectly the still greater number in other schools throughout the land. i must further express my thanks to bishop barry for permission to make use of the following passages from the notes contributed by him to dr. gladstone:-- i had the privilege of being a member of his committee for defining the curriculum of study, and here also--the religious question being disposed of--i was able to follow much the same line as his, and i remember being struck not only with his clear-headed ability, but with his strong commonsense, as to what was useful and practicable, and the utter absence in him of doctrinaire aspiration after ideal impossibilities. there was (i think) very little under his chairmanship of strongly-accentuated difference of opinion. in his action on the board generally i was struck with these three characteristics:--first, his remarkable power of speaking--i may say, of oratory--not only on his own scientific subjects, but on all the matters, many of which were of great practical interest and touched the deepest feelings, which came before the board at that critical time. had he chosen--and we heard at that time that he was considering whether he should choose--to enter political life, it would certainly have made him a great power, possibly a leader, in that sphere. next, what constantly appears in his writings, even those of the most polemical kind--a singular candour in recognising truths which might seen to militate against his own position, and a power of understanding and respecting his adversaries' opinions, if only they were strongly and conscientiously held. i remember his saying on one occasion that in his earlier experience of sickness and suffering, he had found that the most effective helpers of the higher humanity were not the scientist or the philosopher, but] "the parson, and the sister, and the bible woman." [lastly, the strong commonsense, which enabled him to see what was] "within the range of practical politics," [and to choose for the cause which he had at heart the line of least resistance, and to check, sometimes to rebuke, intolerant obstinacy even on the side which he was himself inclined to favour. these qualities over and above his high intellectual ability made him, for the comparatively short time that he remained on the board, one of its leading members. no less vivid is the impression left, after many years, upon another member of the first school board, the reverend benjamin waugh, whose life-long work for the children is so well known. from his recollections, written for the use of professor gladstone, it is my privilege to quote the following paragraphs:-- i was drawn to him most, and was influenced by him most, because of his attitude to a child. he was on the board to establish schools for children. his motive in every argument, in all the fun and ridicule he indulged in, and in his occasional anger, was the child. he resented the idea that schools were to train either congregations for churches or hands for factories. he was on the board as a friend of children. what he sought to do for the child was for the child's sake, that it might live a fuller, truer, worthier life. if ever his great tolerance with men with whom he differed on general principles seemed to fail him for a moment, it was because they seemed to him to seek other ends than the child for its own sake... his contempt for the idea of the world into which we were born being either a sort of clergyhouse or a market-place, was too complete to be marked by any eagerness. but in view of the market-place idea he was the less calm. like many others who had not yet come to know in what high esteem he held the moral and spiritual nature of children, i had thought he was the advocate of mere secular studies, alike in the nation's schools, and in its families. but by contact with him, this soon became an impossible idea. in very early days on the board a remark i had made to a mutual friend which implied this unjust idea was repeated to him.] "tell waugh that he talks too fast," [was his message to me. i was not long in finding out that this was a very just reproof... the two things in his character of which i became most conscious by contact with him, were his childlikeness and his consideration for intellectual inferiors. his arguments were as transparently honest as the arguments of a child. they might or might not seem wrong to others, but they were never untrue to himself. whether you agreed with them or not, they always added greatly to the charm of his personality. whether his face was lighted by his careless and playful humour or his great brows were shadowed by anger, he was alike expressing himself with the honesty of a child. what he counted iniquity he hated, and what he counted righteous he loved with the candour of a child... of his consideration for intellectual inferiors i, of course, needed a large share, and it was never wanting. towering as was his intellectual strength and keenness above me, indeed above the whole of the rest of the members of the board, he did not condescend to me. the result was never humiliating. it had no pain of any sort in it. he was too spontaneous and liberal with his consideration to seem conscious that he was showing any. there were many men of religious note upon the board, of some of whom i could not say the same. in his most trenchant attacks on what he deemed wrong in principles, he never descended to attack either the sects which held them or the individuals who supported them, even though occasionally much provocation was given him. he might not care for peace with some of the theories represented on the board, but he had certainly and at all times great good-will to men. as a speaker he was delightful. few, clear, definite, and calm as stars were the words he spoke. nobody talked whilst he was speaking. there were no tricks in his talk. he did not seem to be trying to persuade you of something. what convinced him, that he transferred to others. he made no attempt to misrepresent those opposed to him. he sought only to let them know himself...even the sparkle of his humour, like the sparkle of a diamond, was of the inevitable in him, and was as fair as it was enjoyable. as one who has tried to serve children, i look back upon having fallen in with mr. huxley as one of the many fortunate circumstances of my life. it taught me the importance of making acquaintance with facts, and of studying the laws of them. under his influence it was that i most of all came to see the practical value of a single eye to those in any pursuit of life. i saw what effect they had on emotions of charity and sentiments of justice, and what simplicity and grandeur they gave to appeals. my last conversation with him was at eastbourne some time in or . i was there on my society's business.] "well, waugh, you're still busy about your babies," [was his greeting. "yes," i responded "and you are still busy about your pigs." one of the last discussions at which he was present at the school board for london had been on the proximity of a piggery to a site for a school, and his attack on mr. gladstone on the gadarene swine had just been made in the "nineteenth century."] "do you still believe in gladstone?" [he continued.] "that man has the greatest intellect in europe. he was born to be a leader of men, and he has debased himself to be a follower of the masses. if working men were to-day to vote by a majority that two and two made five, to-morrow gladstone would believe it, and find them reasons for it which they had never dreamed of." [he said it slowly and with sorrow. two more incidents are connected with his service on the school board. a wealthy friend wrote to him in the most honourable and delicate terms, begging him, on public grounds, to accept pounds sterling a year to enable him to continue his work on the board. he refused the offer as simply and straightforwardly as it was made; his means, though not large, were sufficient for his present needs. further, a good many people seemed to think that he meant to use the school board as a stalking horse for a political career. to one of those who urged him to stand for parliament, he replied thus:--] november , . dear sir, it has often been suggested to me that i should seek for a seat in the house of commons; indeed i have reason to think that many persons suppose that i entered the london school board simply as a road to parliament. but i assure you that this supposition is entirely without foundation, and that i have never seriously entertained any notion of the kind. the work of the school board involves me in no small sacrifices of various kinds, but i went into it with my eyes open, and with the clear conviction that it was worth while to make those sacrifices for the sake of helping the education act into practical operation. a year's experience has not altered that conviction; but now that the most difficult, if not the most important, part of our work is done, i begin to look forward with some anxiety to the time when i shall be relieved of duties which so seriously interfere with what i regard as my proper occupation. no one can say what the future has in store for him, but at present i know of no inducement, not even the offer of a seat in the house of commons, which would lead me, even temporarily and partially, to forsake that work again. i am, dear sir, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [i give here a letter to me from sir mountstuart grant duff, who also at one period was anxious to induce him to enter parliament:-- lexden park, colchester, th november, . dear mr. huxley, i have met men who seemed to me to possess powers of mind even greater than those of your father--his friend henry smith for example; but i never met any one who gave me the impression so much as he did, that he would have gone to the front in any pursuit in which he had seen fit to engage. henry smith had, in addition to his astonishing mathematical genius, and his great talents as a scholar, a rare faculty of persuasiveness. your father used to speak with much admiration and some amusement of the way in which he managed to get people to take his view by appearing to take theirs; but he never could have been a power in a popular assembly, nor have carried with him by the force of his eloquence, great masses of men. i do not think that your father, if he had entered the house of commons and thrown himself entirely into political life, would have been much behind gladstone as a debater, or bright as an orator. whether he had the stamina which are required not only to reach but to retain a foremost place in politics, is another question. the admirers of prince bismarck would say that the daily prayer of the statesman should be there "une bonne digestion et un mauvais coeur." "le mauvais coeur" does not appear to be "de toute necessite," but, assuredly, the "bonne digestion" is. given an adequate and equal amount of ability in two men who enter the house of commons together, it is the man of strong digestion, drawing with it, as it usually does, good temper and power of continuous application, who will go furthest. gladstone, who was inferior to your father in intellect, might have "given points" to the dragon of wantley who devoured church steeples. your father could certainly not have done so, and in that respect was less well equipped for a lifelong parliamentary struggle. i should like to have seen these two pitted against each other with that "substantial piece of furniture" between them behind which mr. disraeli was glad to shelter himself. i should like to have heard them discussing some subject which they both thoroughly understood. when they did cross swords the contest was like nothing that has happened in our times save the struggle at omdurman. it was not so much a battle as a massacre, for gladstone had nothing but a bundle of antiquated prejudices wherewith to encounter your father's luminous thought and exact knowledge. you know, i daresay, that mr. william rathbone, then m.p. for liverpool, once proposed to your father to be the companion of my first indian journey in - , he, william rathbone, paying all your father's expenses. (of this, dr. tyndall wrote to mrs. huxley:--"i want to tell you a pleasant conversation i had last night with jodrell. he and a couple more want to send hal with grant duff to india, taking charge of his duties here and of all necessities ghostly and bodily there!") mr. rathbone made this proposal when he found that lubbock, with whom i travelled a great deal at that period of my life, was unable to go with me to india. how i wish your father had said "yes." my journey, as it was, turned out most instructive and delightful; but to have lived five months with a man of his extraordinary gifts would have been indeed a rare piece of good fortune, and i should have been able also to have contributed to the work upon which you are engaged a great many facts which would have been of interest to your readers. you will, however, i am sure, take the will for the deed, and believe me, very sincerely yours, m.e. grant duff.] chapter . . . ["in " (to quote sir m. foster), "the post of secretary to the royal society became vacant through the resignation of william sharpey, and the fellows learned with glad surprise that huxley, whom they looked to rather as a not distant president, was willing to undertake the duties of the office." this office, which he held until , involved him for the next ten years in a quantity of anxious work, not only in the way of correspondence and administration, but the seeing through the press and often revising every biological paper that the society received, as well as reading those it rejected. then, too, he had to attend every general, council, and committee meeting, amongst which latter the "challenger" committee was a load in itself. under pressure of all this work, he was compelled to give up active connection with other learned societies. (see appendix .) other work this year, in addition to the school board, included courses of lectures at the london institution in january and february, on "first principles of biology," and from october to december on "elementary physiology"; lectures to working men in london from february to april, as well as one at liverpool, march , on "the geographical distribution of animals"; two lectures at the royal institution, may and , on "berkeley on vision," and the "metaphysics of sensation" ("collected essays" ). he published one paleontological paper, "fossil vertebrates from the yarrow colliery" (huxley and wright, "irish academy transactions"). in june and july he gave lectures to schoolmasters--that important business of teaching the teachers that they might set about scientific instruction in the right way. (see below.) he attended the british association at edinburgh, and laid down his presidency; he brought out his "manual of vertebrate anatomy," and wrote a review of "mr. darwin's critics" (see below), while on october he delivered an address at the midland institute, birmingham, on "administrative nihilism" ("collected essays" ). this address, written between september and , and remodelled later, was a pendant to his educational campaign on the school board; a restatement and justification of what he had said and done there. his text was the various objections raised to state interference with education; he dealt first with the upholders of a kind of caste system, men who were willing enough to raise themselves and their sons to a higher social plane, but objected on semi-theological grounds to any one from below doing likewise--neatly satirising them and their notions of gentility, and quoting plato in support of his contention that what is wanted even more than means to help capacity to rise is "machinery by which to facilitate the descent of incapacity from the higher strata to the lower." he repeats in new phrase his warning] "that every man of high natural ability, who is both ignorant and miserable, is as great a danger to society as a rocket without a stick is to people who fire it. misery is a match that never goes out; genius, as an explosive power, beats gunpowder hollow: and if knowledge, which should give that power guidance, is wanting, the chances are not small that the rocket will simply run amuck among friends and foes." [another class of objectors will have it that government should be restricted to police functions, both domestic and foreign, that any further interference must do harm.] suppose, however, for the sake of argument, that we accept the proposition that the functions of the state may be properly summed up in the one great negative commandment--"thou shalt not allow any man to interfere with the liberty of any other man,"--i am unable to see that the logical consequence is any such restriction of the power of government, as its supporters imply. if my next-door neighbour chooses to have his drains in such a state as to create a poisonous atmosphere, which i breathe at the risk of typhoid and diphtheria, he restricts my just freedom to just as much as if he went about with a pistol threatening my life; if he is to be allowed to let his children go unvaccinated, he might as well be allowed to leave strychnine lozenges about in the way of mine; and if he brings them up untaught and untrained to earn their living, he is doing his best to restrict my freedom, by increasing the burden of taxation for the support of gaols and workhouses, which i have to pay. the higher the state of civilisation, the more completely do the actions of one member of the social body influence all the rest, and the less possible is it for any one man to do a wrong thing without interfering, more or less, with the freedom of all his fellow-citizens. so that, even upon the narrowest view of the functions of the state, it must be admitted to have wider powers than the advocates of the police theory are disposed to admit. [this leads to a criticism of mr. spencer's elaborate comparison of the body politic to the body physical, a comparison vitiated by the fact that "among the higher physiological organisms there is none which is developed by the conjunction of a number of primitively independent existences into a complete whole."] the process of social organisation appears to be comparable, not so much to the process of organic development, as to the synthesis of the chemist, by which independent elements are gradually built up into complex aggregations--in which each element retains an independent individuality, though held in subordination to the whole. [it is permissible to quote a few more sentences from this address for the sake of their freshness, or as illustrating the writer's ideas. discussing toleration,] "i cannot discover that locke fathers the pet doctrine of modern liberalism, that the toleration of error is a good thing in itself, and to be reckoned among the cardinal virtues." [(this bears on his speech against ultramontanism.) of mr. spencer's comparison of the state to a living body in the interests of individualism:--] i suppose it is universally agreed that it would be useless and absurd for the state to attempt to promote friendship and sympathy between man and man directly. but i see no reason why, if it be otherwise expedient, the state may not do something towards that end indirectly. for example, i can conceive the existence of an established church which should be a blessing to the community. a church in which, week by week, services should be devoted, not to the iteration of abstract propositions in theology, but to the setting before men's minds of an ideal of true, just, and pure living; a place in which those who are weary of the burden of daily cares should find a moment's rest in the contemplation of the higher life which is possible for all, though attained by so few; a place in which the man of strife and of business should have time to think how small, after all, are the rewards he covets compared with peace and charity. depend upon it, if such a church existed, no one would seek to disestablish it. the sole order of nobility which, in my judgment, becomes a philosopher, is the rank which he holds in the estimation of his fellow-workers, who are the only competent judges in such matters. newton and cuvier lowered themselves when the one accepted an idle knighthood, and the other became a baron of the empire. the great men who went to their graves as michael faraday and george grote seem to me to have understood the dignity of knowledge better when they declined all such meretricious trappings. [(on the other hand, he thought it right and proper for officials, in scientific as in other departments, to accept such honours, as giving them official power and status. in his own case, while refusing all simple titular honours, he accepted the privy councillorship, because, though incidentally carrying a title, it was an office; and an office in virtue of which a man of science might, in theory at least, be called upon to act as responsible adviser to the government, should special occasion arise.) the usual note of high pressure recurs in the following letter, written to thank darwin for his new work, "the descent of man, and selection in relation to sex."] jermyn street, february , . my dear darwin, best thanks for your new book, a copy of which i find awaiting me this morning. but i wish you would not bring your books out when i am so busy with all sorts of things. you know i can't show my face anywhere in society without having read them--and i consider it too bad. no doubt, too, it is full of suggestions just like that i have hit upon by chance at page of volume , which connects the periodicity of vital phenomena with antecedent conditions. fancy lunacy, etc., coming out of the primary fact that one's nth ancestor lived between tide-marks! i declare it's the grandest suggestion i have heard of for an age. i have been working like a horse for the last fortnight, with the fag end of influenza hanging about me--and i am improving under the process, which shows what a good tonic work is. i shall try if i can't pick out from "sexual selection" some practical hint for the improvement of gutter-babies, and bring in a resolution thereupon at the school board. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this year also saw the inception of a scheme for a series of science primers, under the joint editorship of professors huxley, roscoe, and balfour stewart. huxley undertook the introductory primer, but it progressed slowly owing to pressure of other work, and was not actually finished till .] abbey place, june , . my dear roscoe, if you could see the minutes of the proceedings of the aid to science commission, the contagious diseases commission and the school board (to say nothing of a lecture to schoolmasters every morning), you would forgive me for not having written to you before. but now that i have had a little time to look at it, i hasten to say that your chemical primer appears to me to be admirable--just what is wanted. i enclose the sketch for my primer primus. you will see the bearing of it, rough as it is. when it touches upon chemical matters, it would deal with them in a more rudimentary fashion than yours does, and only prepare the minds of the fledglings for you. i send you a copy of the report of the education committee, the resolutions based on which i am now slowly getting passed by our board. the adoption of (c) among the essential subjects has, i hope, secured the future of elementary science in london. cannot you get as much done in manchester? ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [sir charles lyell was now nearly years old, and though he lived four years longer, age was beginning to tell even upon his vigorous powers. a chance meeting with him elicited the following letter:--] abbey place, july , . my dear darwin, i met lyell in waterloo place to-day walking with carrick moore--and although what you said the other day had prepared me, i was greatly shocked at his appearance, and still more at his speech. there is no doubt it is affected in the way you describe, and the fact gives me very sad forebodings about him. the fates send me a swift and speedy end whenever my time comes. i think there is nothing so lamentable as the spectacle of the wreck of a once clear and vigorous mind! i am glad frank enjoyed his visit to us. he is a great favourite here, and i hope he will understand that he is free of the house. it was the greatest fun to see jess and mady [aged and respectively] on their dignity with him. no more kissing, i can tell you. miss mady was especially sublime. six out of our seven children have the whooping-cough. need i say therefore that the wife is enjoying herself? with best regards to mrs. darwin and your daughter (and affectionate love to polly) believe me, ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the purchase of the microscope, already referred to, was the subject of another letter to dr. dohrn, of which only the concluding paragraph about the school board, is of general interest. unfortunately the english microscope did not turn out a success, as compared to the work of the jena opticians: this is the "optical sadowa" of the second letter.] i fancy from what you wrote to my wife that there has been some report of my doings about the school board in germany. so i send you the number of the "contemporary review" [containing his article on "the school boards," etc.] for december that you may see what line i have really taken. fanatics on both sides abuse me, so i think i must be right. when is this infernal war to come to an end? i hold for germany as always, but i wish she would make peace. with best wishes for the new year, ever yours, t.h. huxley. abbey place, july , . my dear dohrn, i have received your packet, and i will take care that your report is duly presented to the association. but the "happy family" in general, and myself in particular, are very sorry you cannot come to scotland. we had begun to count upon it, and the children are immeasurably disgusted with the insects which will not lay their eggs at the right time. you have become acclimatised to my bad behaviour in the matter of correspondence, so i shall not apologise for being in arrear. i have been frightfully hard-worked with two royal commissions and the school board all sitting at once, but i am none the worse, and things are getting into shape--which is a satisfaction for one's trouble. i look forward hopefully towards getting back to my ordinary work next year. your penultimate letter was very interesting to me, but the glimpses into your new views which it affords are very tantalising--and i want more. what you say about the development of the amnion in your last letter still more nearly brought "donner und blitz!" to my lips--and i shall look out anxiously for your new facts. lankester tells me you have been giving lectures on your views. i wish i had been there to hear. he is helping me as demonstrator in a course of instruction in biology which i am giving to schoolmasters--with the view of converting them into scientific missionaries to convert the christian heathen of these islands to the true faith. i am afraid that the english microscope turned out to be by no means worth the money and trouble you bestowed upon it. but the glory of such an optical sadowa should count for something! i wish that you would get your jena man to supply me with one of his best objectives if the price is not ruinous--i should like to compare it with my / inch of ross. [in this connection it may be noted that he himself invented a combination microscope for laboratory use, still made by crouch the optician. (see "journal of queckett micr. club" volume page .)] all our children but jessie have the whooping-cough--pertussis--i don't know your german name for it. it is distressing enough for them, but, i think, still worse for their mother. however, there are no serious symptoms, and i hope the change of air will set them right. they all join with me in best wishes and regrets that you are not coming. won't you change your mind? we start on july st. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the summer holiday of was spent at st. andrews, a place rather laborious of approach at that time, with all the impedimenta of a large and young family, but chosen on account of its nearness to edinburgh, where the british association met that year. i well remember the night journey of some ten or eleven hours, the freshness of the early morning at edinburgh, the hasty excursion with my father up the hill from the station as far as the old high street. the return journey, however, was made easier by the kindness of dr. matthews duncan, who put up the whole family for a night, so as to break the journey. we stayed at castlemount, now belonging to miss paton, just opposite the ruined castle. among other visitors to st. andrews known to my father were professors tait and crum brown, who inveigled him into making trial of the "royal and ancient" game, which then, as now, was the staple resource of the famous little city. i have a vivid recollection of his being hopelessly bunkered three or four holes from home, and can testify that he bore the moral strain with more than usual calm as compared with the generality of golfers. indeed, despite his naturally quick temper and his four years of naval service at a time when, perhaps, the traditions of a former generation had not wholly died out, he had a special aversion to the use of expletives; and the occasional appearance of a strong word in his letters must be put down to a simply literary use which he would have studiously avoided in conversation. a curious physical result followed the vigour with which he threw himself into the unwonted recreation. for the last twenty years his only physical exercise had been walking, and now his arms went black and blue under the muscular strain, as if they had been bruised. but the holiday was by no means spent entirely in recreation. one week was devoted to the british association; another to the examination of some interesting fossils at elgin; while the last three weeks were occupied in writing two long articles, "mr. darwin's critics," and the address entitled "administrative nihilism" referred to above, as well as a review of dana's "crinoids." the former, which appeared in the "contemporary review" for november ("collected essays" - ) was a review of ( ) "contributions to the theory of natural selection," by a.r. wallace, ( ) "the genesis of species," by st. george mivart, f.r.s., and ( ) an article in the "quarterly" for july , on darwin's "descent of man."] "i am darwin's bull-dog," [he once said, and the "quarterly reviewer's" treatment of darwin,] "alike unjust and unbecoming," [provoked him into immediate action.] "i am about sending you," [he writes to haeckel on november ,] "a little review of some of darwin's critics. the dogs have been barking at his heels too much of late." [apart from this stricture, however, he notes the] "happy change" [which] "has come over mr. darwin's critics. the mixture of ignorance and insolence which at first characterised a large proportion of the attacks with which he was assailed, is no longer the sad distinction of anti-darwinian criticism." [notes too] "that, in a dozen years, the 'origin of species' has worked as complete a revolution in biological science as the 'principia' did in astronomy--and it has done so, because, in the words of helmholtz, it contains 'an essentially new creative thought.'" [the essay is particularly interesting as giving evidence of his skill and knowledge in dealing with psychology, as against the "quarterly reviewer," and even with such an unlikely subject as scholastic metaphysics, so that, by an odd turn of events, he appeared in the novel character of a defender of catholic orthodoxy against an attempt from within that church to prove that its teachings have in reality always been in harmony with the requirements of modern science. for mr. mivart, while twitting the generality of men of science with their ignorance of the real doctrines of his church, gave a reference to the jesuit theologian suarez, the latest great representative of scholasticism, as following st. augustine in asserting, not direct, but derivative creation, that is to say, evolution from primordial matter endued with certain powers. startled by this statement, huxley investigated the works of the learned jesuit, and found not only that mr. mivart's reference to the metaphysical disputations was not to the point, but that in the "tractatus de opere sex dierum," suarez expressly and emphatically rejects this doctrine and reprehends augustine for asserting it.] by great good luck [he writes to darwin from st. andrews] there is an excellent library here, with a good copy of suarez, in a dozen big folios. among these i dived, to the great astonishment of the librarian, and looking into them as "the careful robin eyes the delver's toil" (vide "idylls"), i carried off the two venerable clasped volumes which were most promising. so i have come out in the new character of a defender of catholic orthodoxy, and upset mivart out of the mouth of his own prophet. [darwin himself was more than pleased with the article, and wrote enthusiastically (see "life and letters" - ). a few of his generous words may be quoted to show the rate at which he valued his friend's championship. what a wonderful man you are to grapple with those old metaphysical-divinity books...the pendulum is now swinging against our side, but i feel positive it will soon swing the other way; and no mortal man will do half as much as you in giving it a start in the right direction, as you did at the first commencement. and again, after "mounting climax on climax," he continues:--"i must tell you what hooker said to me a few years ago. 'when i read huxley, i feel quite infantile in intellect.'" this sketch of what constituted his holiday--and it was not very much busier than many another holiday--may possibly suggest what his busy time must have been like. till the end of the year the immense amount of work did not apparently tell upon him. he rejoiced in it. in december he remarked to his wife that with all his different irons in the fire, he had never felt his mind clearer or his vigour greater. within a week he broke down quite suddenly, and could neither work nor think. he refers to this in the following letter:--] jermyn street, december , . my dear johnny, you are certainly improving. as a practitioner in the use of cold steel myself, i have read your letter in to-day's "nature," "mit ehrfurcht und bewunderung." and the best evidence of the greatness of your achievement is that it extracts this expression of admiration from a poor devil whose brains and body are in a colloid state, and who is off to brighton for a day or two this afternoon. god be with thee, my son, and strengthen the contents of thy gall-bladder! ever thine, t.h. huxley. ps.--seriously, i am glad that at last a protest has been raised against the process of anonymous self-praise to which our friend is given. i spoke to smith the other day about that dose of it in the "quarterly" article on spirit-rapping. chapter . . . [dyspepsia, that most distressing of maladies, had laid firm hold upon him. he was compelled to take entire rest for a time. but his first holiday produced no lasting effect, and in the summer he was again very ill. then the worry of a troublesome lawsuit in connection with the building of his new house intensified both bodily illness and mental depression. he had great fears of being saddled with heavy costs at the moment when he was least capable of meeting any new expense--hardly able even to afford another much-needed spell of rest. but in his case, as in others, at this critical moment the circle of fellow-workers in science to whom he was bound by ties of friendship, resolved that he should at least not lack the means of recovery. in their name charles darwin wrote him the following letter, of which it is difficult to say whether it does more honour to him who sent it or to him who received it:-- down, beckenham, kent, april , . my dear huxley, i have been asked by some of your friends (eighteen in number) to inform you that they have placed through robarts, lubbock & company, the sum of pounds sterling to your account at your bankers. we have done this to enable you to get such complete rest as you may require for the re-establishment of your health; and in doing this we are convinced that we act for the public interest, as well as in accordance with our most earnest desires. let me assure you that we are all your warm personal friends, and that there is not a stranger or mere acquaintance amongst us. if you could have heard what was said, or could have read what was, as i believe, our inmost thoughts, you would know that we all feel towards you, as we should to an honoured and much loved brother. i am sure that you will return this feeling, and will therefore be glad to give us the opportunity of aiding you in some degree, as this will be a happiness to us to the last day of our lives. let me add that our plan occurred to several of your friends at nearly the same time and quite independently of one another. my dear huxley, your affectionate friend, charles darwin. it was a poignant moment.] "what have i done to deserve this?" [he exclaimed. the relief from anxiety, so generously proffered, entirely overcame him; and for the first time, he allowed himself to confess that in the long struggle against ill-health, he had been beaten; but, as he said, only enough to teach him humility. his first trip in search of health was in , when he obtained two months' leave of absence, and prepared to go to the mediterranean. his lectures to women on physiology at south kensington were taken over by dr. michael foster, who had already acted as his substitute in the fullerian course of . but even on this cruise after health he was not altogether free from business. the stores of biscuit at gibraltar and malta were infested with a small grub and its cocoons. complaints to the home authorities were met by the answer that the stores were prepared from the purest materials and sent out perfectly free from the pest. discontent among the men was growing serious, when he was requested by the admiralty to investigate the nature of the grub and the best means of preventing its ravages. in the end he found that the biscuits were packed within range of stocks of newly arrived, unpurified cocoa, from which the eggs were blown into the stores while being packed, and there hatched out. thereafter the packing was done in another place and the complaints ceased.] january , . my dear dohrn, it is true enough that i am somewhat "erkrankt," though beyond general weariness, incapacity and disgust with things in general, i do not precisely know what is the matter with me. unwillingly, i begin to suspect that i overworked myself last year. doctors talk seriously to me, and declare that all sorts of wonderful things will happen if i do not take some more efficient rest than i have had for a long time. my wife adds her quota of persuasion and admonition, until i really begin to think i must do something, if only to have peace. what if i were to come and look you up in naples, somewhere in february, as soon as my lectures are over? the "one-plate system" might cure me of my incessant dyspeptic nausea. a detestable grub--larva of ephestia elatella--has been devouring her majesty's stores of biscuits at gibraltar. i have had to look into his origin, history, and best way of circumventing him--and maybe i shall visit gibraltar and perhaps malta. in that case, you will see me turn up some of these days at the palazzo torlonia. herbert spencer has written a friendly attack on "administrative nihilism," which i will send you; in the same number of the "fortnightly" there is an absurd epicene splutter on the same subject by mill's step-daughter, miss helen taylor. i intended to publish the paper separately, with a note about spencer's criticism, but i have had no energy nor faculty to do anything lately. tell lankester, with best regards, that i believe the teaching of teachers in is arranged, and that i shall look for his help in due course. the "happy family" have had the measles since you saw them, but they are well again. i write in jermyn street, so they cannot send messages; otherwise there would be a chorus from them and the wife of good wishes and kind remembrances. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [he left southampton on january , in the "malta." on the th, he notes in his diary,] "i was up just in time see the great portal of the mediterranean well. it was a lovely morning, and nothing could be grander than ape hill on one side and the rock on the other, looking like great lions or sphinxes on each side of a gateway." [the morning after his arrival he breakfasted with admiral hornby, who sent him over to tangier in the "helicon," giving the bishop of gibraltar a passage at the same time. this led him to note down,] "how the naval men love baxter and all his works." [a letter from dr. hooker to sir john hay ensured him a most hospitable welcome, though continual rain spoiled his excursions. on the st he returned to gibraltar, leaving three days later in the "nyanza" for alexandria, which was reached on february . at that "muddy hole" he landed in pouring rain, and it was not till he reached cairo the following day that he at last got into his longed-for sunshine. seeing that three of his eight weeks had been spent in merely getting to sunshine, his wife and doctor conspired to apply for a third month of leave, which was immediately granted, so that he was able to accept the invitation of two friends to go with them up the nile as far as assouan in that most restful of conveyances, a dahabieh. cairo more than answered his expectations. he stayed here till the th, making several excursions in company with sir w. gregory, notably to boulak museum, where he particularly notes the "man with ape" from memphis; and, of course, the pyramids, of which he remarks that cephren's is cased at the top with limestone, not granite. his notebook and sketch-book show that he was equally interested in archeology, in the landscape and scenes of everyday life, and in the peculiar geographical and geological features of the country. his first impression of the delta was its resemblance to belgium and lincolnshire. he has sections and descriptions of the mokatta hill, and the windmill mound, with a general panorama of the surrounding country and an explanation of it. he remarks at memphis how the unburnt brick of which the mounds are made up had in many places become remanie into a stratified deposit--distinguishable from nile mud chiefly by the pottery fragments--and notes the bearing of this fact on the cairo mounds. it is the same on his trip up the nile; he jots down the geology whenever opportunity offered; remarks, as indication of the former height of the river, a high mud-bank beyond edfou, and near assouan a pot-hole in the granite fifty feet above the present level. here is a detailed description of the tomb of aahmes; there a river-scene beside the pyramid of meidum; or vivid sketches of vulture and jackal at a meal in the desert, the jackal in possession of the carcass, the vulture impatiently waiting his good pleasure for the last scraps; of the natives working at the endless shadoofs; of a group of listeners around a professional story-teller--unfinished, for he was observed sketching them. egypt left a profound impression upon him. his artistic delight in it apart, the antiquities and geology of the country were a vivid illustration to his trained eye of the history of man and the influence upon him of the surrounding country, the link between geography and history. he left behind him for a while a most unexpected memorial of his visit. a friend not long after going to the pyramids, was delighted to find himself thus adjured by a donkey-boy, who tried to cut out his rival with "not him donkey, sah; him donkey bad, sah; my donkey good; my donkey 'fessor-uxley donkey, sah." it appears that the cairo donkey-boys have a way of naming their animals after celebrities whom they have borne on their backs. while at thebes, on his way down the river again, he received news of the death of the second son of matthew arnold, to whom he wrote the following letter:--] thebes, march , . my dear arnold, i cannot tell you how shocked i was to see in the papers we received yesterday the announcement of the terrible blow which has fallen upon mrs. arnold and yourself. your poor boy looked such a fine manly fellow the last time i saw him, when we dined at your house, that i had to read the paragraph over and over again before i could bring myself to believe what i read. and it is such a grievous opening of a wound hardly yet healed that i hardly dare to think of the grief which must have bowed down mrs. arnold and yourself. i hardly know whether i do well in writing to you. if such trouble befell me there are very few people in the world from whom i could bear even sympathy--but you would be one of them, and therefore i hope that you will forgive a condolence which will reach you so late as to disturb rather than soothe, for the sake of the hearty affection which dictates it. my wife has told me of the very kind letter you wrote her. i was thoroughly broken down when i left england, and did not get much better until i fell into the utter and absolute laziness of dahabieh life. a month of that has completely set me up. i am as well as ever; and though very grateful to old nile for all that he has done for me--not least for a whole universe of new thoughts and pictures of life--i begin to feel strongly 'the need of a world of men for me.' but i am not going to overwork myself again. pray make my kindest remembrances to mrs. arnold, and believe me, always yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [leaving assouan on march , and cairo on the th, he returned by way of messina to naples, taking a day at catania to look at etna. at naples he found his friend dohrn was absent, and his place as host was filled by his father. vesuvius was ascended, pozzuoli and pompeii visited, and two days spent in rome.] hotel de grande bretagne, naples, march , . my dear tyndall, your very welcome letter did not reach me until the th of march, when i returned to cairo from my expedition to assouan. like johnny gilpin, i "little thought when i set out, of running such a rig"; but while at cairo i fell in with ossory of the athenaeum, and a very pleasant fellow, charles ellis, who had taken a dahabieh, and were about to start up the nile. they invited me to take possession of a vacant third cabin, and i accepted their hospitality, with the intention of going as far as thebes and returning on my own hook. but when we got to thebes i found there was no getting away again without much more exposure and fatigue than i felt justified in facing just then, and as my friends showed no disposition to be rid of me, i stuck to the boat, and only left them on the return voyage at rodu, which is the terminus of the railway, about miles from cairo. we had an unusually quick journey, as i was little more than a month away from cairo, and as my companions made themselves very agreeable, it was very pleasant. i was not particularly well at first, but by degrees the utter rest of this "always afternoon" sort of life did its work, and i am as well and vigorous now as ever i was in my life. i should have been home within a fortnight of the time i had originally fixed. this would have been ample time to have enabled me to fulfil all the engagements i had made before starting; and donnelly had given me to understand that "my lords" would not trouble their heads about my stretching my official leave. nevertheless i was very glad to find the official extension (which was the effect of my wife's and your and bence jones's friendly conspiracy) awaiting me at cairo. a rapid journey home via brindisi might have rattled my brains back into the colloid state in which they were when i left england. looking back through the past six months i begin to see that i have had a narrow escape from a bad breakdown, and i am full of good resolutions. as the first-fruit of these you see that i have given up the school board, and i mean to keep clear of all that semi-political work hereafter. i see that sandon (whom i met at alexandria) and miller have followed my example, and that lord lawrence is likely to go. what a skedaddle! it seems very hard to escape, however. since my arrival here, on taking up the "times" i saw a paragraph about the lord rectorship of st. andrews. after enumerating a lot of candidates for that honour, the paragraph concluded, "but we understand that at present professor huxley has the best chance." it is really too bad if any one has been making use of my name without my permission. but i don't know what to do about it. i had half a mind to write to tulloch to tell him that i can't and won't take any such office, but i should look rather foolish if he replied that it was a mere newspaper report, and that nobody intended to put me up. egypt interested me profoundly, but i must reserve the tale of all i did and saw there for word of mouth. from alexandria i went to messina, and thence made an excursion along the lovely sicilian coast to catania and etna. the old giant was half covered with snow, and this fact, which would have tempted you to go to the top, stopped me. but i went to the val del bove, whence all the great lava streams have flowed for the last two centuries, and feasted my eyes with its rugged grandeur. from messina i came on here, and had the great good fortune to find vesuvius in eruption. before this fact the vision of good bence jones forbidding much exertion vanished into thin air, and on thursday up i went in company with ray lankester and my friend dohrn's father, dohrn himself being unluckily away. we had a glorious day, and did not descend till late at night. the great crater was not very active, and contented itself with throwing out great clouds of steam and volleys of red-hot stones now and then. these were thrown towards the south-west side of the cone, so that it was practicable to walk all round the northern and eastern lip, and look down into the hell gate. i wished you were there to enjoy the sight as much as i did. no lava was issuing from the great crater, but on the north side of this, a little way below the top, an independent cone had established itself as the most charming little pocket-volcano imaginable. it could not have been more than feet high, and at the top was a crater not more than six or seven feet across. out of this, with a noise exactly resembling a blast furnace and a slowly-working high pressure steam engine combined, issued a violent torrent of steam and fragments of semi-fluid lava as big as one's fist, and sometimes bigger. these shot up sometimes as much as feet, and then fell down on the sides of the little crater, which could be approached within fifty feet without any danger. as darkness set in, the spectacle was most strange. the fiery stream found a lurid reflection in the slowly-drifting steam cloud, which overhung it, while the red-hot stones which shot through the cloud shone strangely beside the quiet stars in a moonless sky. not from the top of this cinder cone, but from its side, a couple of hundred feet down, a stream of lava issued. at first it was not more than a couple of feet wide, but whether from receiving accessions or merely from the different form of slope, it got wider on its journey down to the atrio del cavallo, a thousand feet below. the slope immediately below the exit must have been near fifty, but the lava did not flow quicker than very thick treacle would do under like circumstances. and there were plenty of freshly cooled lava streams about, inclined at angles far greater than those which that learned academician, elie de beaumont, declared to be possible. naturally i was ashamed of these impertinent lava currents, and felt inclined to call them "laves mousseuses." [elie de beaumont "is said to have 'damned himself to everlasting fame' by inventing the nickname of 'la science moussante' for evolutionism." see "life of darwin" .] courage, my friend, behold land! i know you love my handwriting. i am off to rome to-day, and this day-week, if all goes well, i shall be under my own roof-tree again. in fact i hope to reach london on saturday evening. it will be jolly to see your face again. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. my best remembrances to hirst if you see him before i do. [my father reached home on april , sunburnt and bearded almost beyond recognition, but not really well, for as soon as he began work again in london, his old enemy returned. early hours, the avoidance of society and societies, an hour's riding before starting at nine for south kensington, were all useless; the whole year was poisoned until a special diet prescribed by dr. (afterwards sir) andrew clark, followed by another trip abroad, effected a cure. i remember his saying once that he learned by sad experience that such a holiday as that in egypt was no good for him. what he really required was mountain air and plenty of exercise. the following letters fill up the outline of this period:--] abbey place, may , . my dear dohrn, i suppose that you are now back in naples, perambulating the chiaja, and looking ruefully on the accumulation of ashes on the foundations of the aquarium! the papers, at any rate, tell us that the ashes of vesuvius have fallen abundantly at naples. moreover, that abominable municipality is sure to have made the eruption an excuse for all sorts of delays. may the gods give you an extra share of temper and patience! what an unlucky dog our poor ray is, to go and get fever when of all times in the world's history he should not have had it. however, i hear he is better and on his way home. i hope he will be well enough when he returns not only to get his fellowship, but to help me in my schoolmaster work in june and july. i was greatly disgusted to miss you in naples, but it was something to find your father instead. what a vigorous, genial youngster of three score and ten he is. i declare i felt quite aged beside him. we had a glorious day on vesuvius, and behaved very badly by leaving him at the inn for i do not know how many hours, while we wandered about the cone. but he had a very charming young lady for companion, and possibly had the best of it. i am very sorry that at the last i went off in a hurry without saying "good-bye" to him, but i desired lankester to explain, and i am sure he will have sympathised with my anxiety to see rome. i returned, thinking myself very well, but a bad fit of dyspepsia seized me, and i found myself obliged to be very idle and very careful of myself--neither of which things are to my taste. but i am right again now, and hope to have no more backslidings. however, i am afraid i may not be able to attend the brighton meeting. in which case you will have to pay us a visit, wherever we may be--where, we have not yet made up our minds, but it will not be so far as st. andrews. now for a piece of business. the new governor of ceylon is a friend of mine, and is proposing to set up a natural history museum in ceylon. he wants a curator--some vigorous fellow with plenty of knowledge and power of organisation who will make use of his great opportunities. he tells me he thinks he can start him with pounds sterling a year (and a house) with possible increase to pounds sterling. i do not know any one here who would answer the purpose. can you recommend me any one? if you can, let me know at once, and don't take so long in writing to me as i have been in writing to you. i await the "prophecies of the holy antonius" anxiously. [his work on the development of the arthropoda or spider family.] like the jews of old, i come of an unbelieving generation, and need a sign. the bread and the oil, also the chamber in the wall shall not fail the prophet when he comes in august: nor donner and blitzes either. i leave the rest of the space for the wife. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the following is in reply to a jest of dr. dohrn's--who was still a bachelor--upon a friend's unusual sort of offering to a young lady.] i suspected the love affair you speak of, and thought the young damsel very attractive. i suppose it will come to nothing, even if he be disposed to add his hand to the iron and quinine, in the next present he offers...and, oh my diogenes, happy in a tub of arthropodous entwickelungsgeschichte [history of development.], despise not beefsteaks, nor wives either. they also are good. jermyn street, june , . my dear dohrn, i have written to the governor of ceylon, and enclosed the first half of your letter to me to him as he understands high dutch. i have told him that the best thing he can do is to write to you at naples and tell you he will be very happy to see you as soon as you can come. and that if you do come you will give him the best possible advice about his museum, and let him have no rest until he has given you a site for a zoological station. i have no doubt you will get a letter from him in three weeks or so. his name is gregory, and you will find him a good-humoured acute man of the world, with a very great general interest in scientific and artistic matters. indeed in art i believe he is a considerable connoisseur. i am very grieved to hear of your father's serious illness. at his age cerebral attacks are serious, and when we spent so many pleasant hours together at naples, he seemed to have an endless store of vigour--very much like his son anton. what put it into your head that i had any doubt of your power of work? i am ready to believe that you are hydra in the matter of heads and briareus in the matter of hands. ...if you go to ceylon i shall expect you to come back by way of england. it's the shortest route anywhere from india, though it may not look so on the map. how am i? oh, getting along and just keeping the devil of dyspepsia at arm's length. the wife and other members of the h.f. are well, and would send you greetings if they knew i was writing to you. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a little later von willemoes suhm] ("why the deuce does he have such a long name, instead of a handy monosyllable are dissyllable like dohrn or huxley?") [was recommended for the post. he afterwards was one of the scientific staff of the "challenger," and died during the voyage.] morthoe, near barnstaple, north devon, august , . my dear dohrn, i trust you have not been very wroth with me for my long delay in answering your last letter. for the last six weeks i have been very busy lecturing daily to a batch of schoolmasters, and looking after their practical instruction in the laboratory which the government has, at last, given me. in the "intervals of business" i have been taking my share in a battle which has been raging between my friend hooker of kew and his official chief...and moreover i have just had strength enough to get my daily work done and no more, and everything that could be put off has gone to the wall. three days ago, the "happy family," bag and baggage, came to this remote corner, where i propose to take a couple of months' entire rest--and put myself in order for next winter's campaign. it is a little village five miles from the nearest town (which is ilfracombe), and our house is at the head of a ravine running down to the sea. our backs are turned to england and our faces to america with no land that i know of between. the country about is beautiful, and if you will come we will put you up at the little inn, and show you something better than even swanage. there are slight difficulties about the commissariat, but that is the hausfrau's business, and not mine. at the worst, bread, eggs, milk, and rabbits are certain, and the post from london takes two days! morthoe, ilfracombe, north devon, august , . my dear whirlwind, i promise you all my books, past, present, and to come for the aquarium. the best part about them is that they will not take up much room. ask for owen's by all means; "fas est etiam ab hoste doceri." i am very glad you have got the british association publications, as it will be a good precedent for the royal society. have you talked to hooker about marine botany? he may be able to help you as soon as x. the accursed (may jackasses sit upon his grandmother's grave, as we say in the east) leaves him alone. it is hateful that you should be in england without seeing us, and for the first time i lament coming here. the children howled in chorus when they heard that you could not come. at this moment the whole tribe and their mother have gone to the sea, and i must answer your letter before the post goes out, which it does here about half an hour after it comes in. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in huxley was at length enabled to establish in his regular classes a system of science teaching based upon laboratory work by the students, which he had long felt to be the only true method. it involved the verification of every fact by each student, and was a training in scientific method even more than in scientific fact. had circumstances only permitted, the new epoch in biological teaching might have been antedated by many years. but, as he says in the preface to the "practical biology," :--] practical work was forbidden by the limitations of space in the building in jermyn street, which possessed no room applicable to the purpose of a laboratory, and i was obliged to content myself, for many years, with what seemed the next best thing, namely, as full an exposition as i could give of the characters of certain plants and animals, selected as types of vegetable and animal organisation, by way of introduction to systematic zoology and paleontology. [there was no laboratory work, but he would show an experiment or a dissection during the lecture or perhaps for a few minutes after, when the audience crowded round the lecture table. the opportunity came in . as he afterwards impressed upon the great city companies in regard to technical education, the teaching of science throughout the country turned upon the supply of trained teachers. the part to be played by elementary science under the education act of , added urgency to the question of proper teaching. with this in view, he organised a course of instruction for those who had been preparing pupils for the examinations of the science and art department, "scientific missionaries," as he described them to dr. dohrn. in the promotion of the practical teaching of biology (writes the late jeffery parker, "natural science" ), huxley's services can hardly be overestimated. botanists had always been in the habit of distributing flowers to their students, which they could dissect or not as they chose; animal histology was taught in many colleges under the name of practical physiology; and at oxford an excellent system of zoological work had been established by the late professor rolleston. ("rolleston (professor lankester writes to me) was the first to systematically conduct the study of zoology and comparative anatomy in this country by making use of a carefully selected series of animals. his 'types' were the rat, the common pigeon, the frog, the perch, the crayfish, blackbeetle, anodon, snail, earthworm, leech, tapeworm. he had a series of dissections of these mounted, also loose dissections and elaborate manuscript descriptions. the student went through this series, dissecting fresh specimens for himself. after some ten years' experience rolleston printed his manuscript directions and notes as a book, called 'forms of animal life.' "this all preceded the practical class at south kensington in . i have no doubt that rolleston was influenced in his plan by your father's advice. but rolleston had the earlier opportunity of putting the method into practice. "your father's series of types were chosen so as to include plants, and he gave more attention to microscopic forms and to microscopic structure than did rolleston." it was distinctive of the lectures that they were on biology, on plants as well as animals, to illustrate all the fundamental features of living things.) but the biological laboratory, as it is now understood, may be said to date from about , when huxley, with the cooperation of professors foster, rutherford, lankester, martin, and others (t.j. parker, g.b. howes, and the present sir w. thiselton dyer, k.c.m.g., c.i.e.,), held short summer classes for science teachers at south kensington, the daily work consisting of an hour's lecture followed by four hours' laboratory work, in which the students verified for themselves facts which they had hitherto heard about and taught to their unfortunate pupils from books alone. the naive astonishment and delight of the more intelligent among them was sometimes almost pathetic. one clergyman, who had for years conducted classes in physiology under the science and art department, was shown a drop of his own blood under the microscope. "dear me!" he exclaimed, "it's just like the picture in huxley's 'physiology.'" later, in , when the biological department of the royal school of mines was transferred to south kensington, this method was adopted as part of the regular curriculum of the school, and from that time the teaching "of zoology by lectures alone became an anachronism." the first of these courses to schoolmasters took place, as has been said, in . some large rooms on the ground floor of the south kensington museum were used for the purpose. there was no proper laboratory, but professor and demonstrators rigged up everything as wanted. huxley was in the full tide of that more than natural energy which preceded his breakdown in health, and gave what professor ray lankester describes as "a wonderful course of lectures," one every day from ten to eleven for six weeks, in june and half july. the three demonstrators (those named first on the list above) each took a third of the class, about thirty-five apiece. "great enthusiasm prevailed. we went over a number of plants and of animals--including microscopic work and some physiological experiment. the 'types' were more numerous than in later courses." in the new laboratory--the present one--was ready.] "i have a laboratory," [writes huxley to dohrn,] "which it shall do your eyes good to behold when you come back from ceylon, the short way." [(i.e. via england.) here a similar course, under the same demonstrators, assisted by h.n. martin, was given in the summer, huxley, though very shaky in health, making a point of carrying them out himself.] abbey place, june , . my dear tyndall, i must be at work on examination papers all day to-day, but to-morrow i am good to lunch with you (and abscond from the royal commission, which will get on very well without me) or to go with you and call on your friends, whichever may be most convenient. many thanks for all your kind and good advice about the lectures, but i really think they will not be too much for me, and it is of the utmost importance i should carry them on. they are the commencement of a new system of teaching which, if i mistake not, will grow into a big thing and bear great fruit, and just at this present moment (nobody is necessary very long) i am the necessary man to carry it on. i could not get a suppleant if i would, and you are no more the man than i am to let a pet scheme fall through for the fear of a little risk of self. and really and truly i find that by taking care i pull along very well. moreover, it isn't my brains that get wrong, but only my confounded stomach. i have read your memorial [in the affair of dr. hooker already referred to.] which is very strong and striking, but a difficulty occurs to me about a good deal of it, and that is that it won't do to quote hooker's official letters before they have been called for in parliament, or otherwise made public. we should find ourselves in the wrong officially, i am afraid, by doing so. however we can discuss this when we meet. i will be at the athenaeum at o'clock. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [as for the teaching by "types," which was the most salient feature of his method, and therefore the most easily applied and misapplied, professor parker continues:-- huxley's method of teaching was based upon the personal examination by the student of certain "types" of animals and plants selected with a view of illustrating the various groups. but, in his lectures, these types were not treated as the isolated things they necessarily appear in a laboratory manual or an examination syllabus; each, on the contrary, took its proper place as an example of a particular grade of structure, and no student of ordinary intelligence could fail to see that the types were valuable, not for themselves, but simply as marking, so to speak, the chapters of a connected narrative. moreover, in addition to the types, a good deal of work of a more general character was done. thus, while we owe to huxley more than to any one else the modern system of teaching biology, he is by no means responsible for the somewhat arid and mechanical aspect it has assumed in certain quarters. the application of the same system to botanical teaching was inaugurated in , when, being compelled to go abroad for his health, he arranged that mr. (now sir w.) thiselton dyer should take his place and lecture on botany. the "elementary instruction in biology," published in , was a text-book based upon this system. this book, in writing which huxley was assisted by his demonstrator, h.n. martin, was reprinted thirteen times before , when it was "revised and extended by howes and scott," his later assistants. the revised edition is marked by one radical change, due to the insistence of his demonstrator, the late professor jeffery parker. in the first edition, the lower forms of life were first dealt with; from simple cells--amoeba, yeast-plant, blood-corpuscle--the student was taken through an ascending series of plants and of animals, ending with the frog or rabbit. but] "the experience of the lecture-room and the laboratory taught me," [writes huxley in the new preface,] "that philosophical as it might be in theory, it had defects in practice." [the process might be regarded as not following the scientific rule of proceeding from the known to the unknown; while the small and simple organisms required a skill in handling high-power microscopes which was difficult for beginners to acquire. hence the course was reversed, and began with the more familiar type of the rabbit or frog. this was rolleston's practice; but it may be noted that professor ray lankester has always maintained and further developed "the original huxleian plan of beginning with the same microscopic forms" as being a most important philosophic improvement on rolleston's plan, and giving, he considers, "the truer 'twist,' as it were, to a student's mind." when the book was sent to darwin, he wrote back (november , ):-- my dear huxley, many thanks for your biology, which i have read. it was a real stroke of genius to think of such a plan. lord, how i wish that i had gone through such a course. ever yours, charles darwin. a large portion of his time and energy was occupied in the organisation of this course of teaching for teachers, and its elaboration before being launched on a larger scale in october, when the biological department of the jermyn street school was transferred to the new buildings at south kensington, fitted with laboratories which were to excite his friend dr. dohrn's envy. but he was also at work upon his share of the "science primers," so far as his still uncertain health allowed. this and the affairs of the british association are the subject of several letters to sir henry roscoe and dr. tyndall.] abbey place, april , . my dear roscoe, many thanks for your kind letter of welcome. my long rest has completely restored me. as my doctor told me, i was sound, wind and limb, and had merely worn myself out. i am not going to do that again, and you see that i have got rid of the school board. it was an awful incubus! oddly enough i met the ashtons in the vatican, and heard about your perplexities touching oxford. i should have advised you to do as you have done. i think that you have a great piece of work to do at owens college, and that you will do it. if you had gone to oxford you would have sacrificed all the momentum you have gained in manchester; and would have had to begin de novo, among conditions which, i imagine, it is very hard for a non-university man to appreciate and adjust himself to. i like the look of the "primers" (of which macmillan has sent me copies to-day) very much, and shall buckle to at mine as soon as possible. i am very glad you did not wait for me. i remained in a very shaky condition up to the middle of march, and could do nothing. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. the wife unites with me in kind regards to mrs. roscoe and yourself. morthoe, ilfracombe, north devon, september , . my dear tyndall, i was very glad to have news of you, and to hear that you are vigorous. my outing hitherto has not been very successful, so far as the inward man is concerned at least, for the weather has been good enough. but i have been worried to death with dyspepsia and the hyperchondriacal bedevilments that follow in its train, until i am seriously thinking of returning to town to see if the fine air of st. john's wood (as the man says in "punch") won't enable me to recover from the effects of the country. i wish i were going with you to yankee land, not to do any lecturing, god forbid! but to be a quiet spectator in a corner of the enthusiastic audiences. i am as lazy as a dog, and the role of looker-on would just suit me. however, i have a good piece of work to do in organising my new work at south kensington. i have just asked my children what message they have to send to you, and they send their love; very sorry they won't see you before you go, and hope you won't come back speaking through your nose! i shall be in town this week or next, and therefore shall see you. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. abbey place, september , . my dear roscoe, your letter has followed me from morthoe here. we had good enough weather in devon--but my stay there was marred by the continuous dyspepsia and concurrent hyperchondriacal incapacity. at last, i could not stand it any longer, and came home for "change of air," leaving the wife and chicks to follow next week. by dint of living on cocoa and revalenta, and giving up drink, tobacco, and all other things that make existence pleasant, i am getting better. what was your motive in getting kicked by a horse? i stopped away from the association without that; and am not sorry to have been out of the way of the x. business. what is to become of the association if -- is to monopolise it? and then there was that scoundrel, louis napoleon--to whom no honest man ought to speak--gracing the scene. i am right glad i was out of it. i am at my wits' end to suggest a lecturer for you. i wish i could offer myself, but i have refused everything of that sort on the score of health; and moreover, i am afraid of my wife! what do you say to ramsay? he lectures very well. i have done nothing whatever to the primer. stewart sent me geikie's letter this morning, and i have asked macmillan to send geikie the proofs of my primer so far as they go. we must not overlap more than can be helped. i have not seen hooker yet since my return. while all this row has been going on, i could not ask him to do anything for us. and until x. is dead and d--d (officially at any rate), i am afraid there will be little peace for him. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. please remember me very kindly to mrs. roscoe. [in a letter of september is a reference to the way in which his increasing family had outgrown his house in abbey place. early in the preceding year, he had come to the decision to buy a small house in the same neighbourhood, and add to it so as to give elbow-room to each and all of the family. this was against the advice of his friend and legal adviser, to whom he wrote announcing his decision, as follows. the letter was adorned with a sketch of an absurd cottage, "ye house!" perched like a windmill on a kind of pedestal, and with members of the family painfully ascending a ladder to the upper story, above the ominous legend, "staircase forgotten."] march , . my dear burton, there is something delightfully refreshing in rushing into a piece of practical work in the teeth of one's legal adviser. if the lease of a piece of ground whereon i am going to build mine house come to you, will you see if it's all right. yours wilfully, t.h. huxley. [this house, number marlborough place, stands on the north side of that quiet street, close to its junction with abbey road. it is next door to the presbyterian church, on the other side of which again is a jewish synagogue. the irregular front of the house, with the original cottage, white-painted and deep eaved, joined by a big porch to the new uncompromising square face of yellow brick, distinguished only by its extremely large windows, was screened from the road by a high oak paling, and a well-grown row of young lime-trees. taken as a whole, it was not without character, and certainly was unlike most london houses. it was built for comfort, not beauty; designed, within stringent limits as to cost, to give each member of the family room to get away by himself or herself if so disposed. moreover, the gain in space made it more possible to see something of friends or put up a guest, than in the small and crowded house in abbey place. a small garden lay in front of the house; a considerably larger garden behind, wherein the chief ornament was then a large apple-tree, that never failed to spread a cloud of blossom for my father's birthday, the th of may. over the way, too, for many years we were faced by a long garden full of blossoming pear-trees in which thrushes and blackbirds sang and nested, belonging to a desolate house in the abbey road, which was tenanted by a solitary old man, supposed to be a male prototype of miss havisham in "great expectations." the move was accompanied by a unique and unpleasant experience. a knavish fellow, living in a cottage close to the foot of the garden, sought to blackmail the new comer, under threat of legal proceedings, alleging that a catchment well for surface drainage had made his basement damp. unfortunately for his case, it could be shown that the pipes had not yet been connected with the well, and when he carried out his threat, he gained nothing from his suit in chancery and his subsequent appeal, except some stinging remarks from vice-chancellor malins.] i am afraid the brute is impecunious [wrote my father after the first suit failed], and that i shall get nothing out of him. so i shall have had three months' worry, and be fined pounds sterling or so for being wholly and absolutely in the right. [happily the man turned out to have enough means to pay the bulk of the costs; but that was no compensation for the mental worry and consequent ill-health entailed from november to june. the only amusing point in the whole affair was when the plaintiff's solicitors had the face to file an affidavit before the vice-chancellor himself in answer to his strictures upon the case, "about as regular a proceeding," reports mr. burton, "as for a middy to reply upon the post captain on his own quarter-deck." the move was made in the third week of december ( ) amid endless rain and mud and with workmen still in the house. it was attended by one inconvenience. he writes to darwin on december , :--] i am utterly disgusted at having only just received your note of tuesday. but the fact is, there is a certain inconvenience about having four addresses as has been my case for the most part of this week, in consequence of our moving--and as i have not been to jermyn street before to-day, i have missed your note. i should run round to queen anne street now on the chance of catching you, but i am bound here by an appointment. [one incident of the move, however, was more agreeable. mr. herbert spencer took the opportunity of sending a new year's gift for the new house, in the shape of a handsome clock, wishing, as he said, "to express in some way more empathic than by words, my sense of the many kindnesses i have received at your hands during the twenty years of our friendship. remembrance of the things you have done in furtherance of my aims, and of the invaluable critical aid you have given me, with so much patience and at so much cost of time, has often made me feel how much i owe you." after a generous reference to occasions when the warmth of debate might have betrayed him into more vigorous expressions than he intended, he concludes:-- but inadequately as i may ordinarily show it, you will (knowing that i am tolerably candid) believe me when i say that there is no one whose judgment on all subjects i so much respect, or whose friendship i so highly value. it may be remembered that the address on "administrative nihilism" led to a reply from the pen of mr. spencer, as the champion of individualism. when my father sent him the volume in which this address was printed, he wrote back a letter (september , ) which is characterised by the same feeling. it expresses his thanks for the book, "and many more for the kind expression of feeling in the preface. if you had intended to set an example to the philistines of the way in which controversial differences may be maintained without any decrease of sympathy, you could not have done it more perfectly." in connection with the building of the house, tyndall had advanced a sum of money to his friend, and with his usual generosity, not only received interest with the greatest reluctance, but would have liked to make a gift of the principal. he writes, "if i remain a bachelor i will circumvent you--if not--not. it cleaves to me like dirt--and that is why you wish to get rid of it." to this he received answer:-- february , . i am not to be deterred by any amount of bribery and corruption, from bringing you under the yoke of a "rare and radiant,"--whenever i discover one competent to undertake the ticklish business of governing you. i hope she will be "radiant,"--uncommonly "rare" she certainly will be! two years later this loan was paid off, with the following letter:--] marlborough place, january , . my dear old shylock, my argosies have come in, and here is all that was written in the bond! if you want the pound of flesh too, you know it is at your service, and my portia won't raise that pettifogging objection to shedding a little blood into the bargain, which that other one did. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on october miss jex blake wrote to him to ask his help for herself and the other women medical students at edinburgh. for two years they had only been able to get anatomical teaching in a mixed class; but wishing to have a separate class, at least for the present, they had tried to arrange for one that session. the late demonstrator at the surgeons' hall, who had given them most of their teaching before, had undertaken to teach this separate class, but was refused recognition by the university court, on the ground that they had no evidence of his qualifications, while refusing to let him prove his qualification by examination. this the women students understood to be an indirect means of suppressing their aspirations; they therefore begged huxley to examine their instructor with a view to giving him a certificate which should carry weight with the university court. he replied:--] to miss jex blake. october , . dear madam, while i fully sympathise with the efforts made by yourself and others, to obtain for women the education requisite to qualify them for medical practice, and while i think that women who have the inclination and the capacity to follow the profession of medicine are most unjustly dealt with if any obstacles beyond those which are natural and inevitable are placed in their way, i must nevertheless add, that i as completely sympathise with those professors of anatomy, physiology, and obstetrics, who object to teach such subjects to mixed classes of young men and women brought together without any further evidence of moral and mental fitness for such association than the payment of their fees. in fact, with rare exceptions, i have refused to admit women to my own lectures on comparative anatomy for many years past. but i should not hesitate to teach anything i know to a class composed of women; and i find it hard to believe that any one should really wish to prevent women from obtaining efficient separate instruction, and from being admitted to examination for degrees upon the same terms as men. you will therefore understand that i should be most glad to help you if i could--and it is with great regret that i feel myself compelled to refuse your request to examine mr. h--. in the first place i am in the midst of my own teaching, and with health not yet completely re-established i am obliged to keep clear of all unnecessary work. secondly, such an examination must be practical, and i have neither dissecting-room available nor the anatomical license required for human dissection; and thirdly, it is not likely that the university authorities would attach much weight to my report on one or two days' work--if the fact that mr. h-- has already filled the office of anatomical demonstrator (as i understand from you) does not satisfy them as to his competency. i am, dear madam, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the last event of the year was that he was elected by the students lord rector of aberdeen university--a position, the duties of which consist partly in attending certain meetings of the university court, but more especially in delivering an address. this, however, was not required for another twelvemonth, and the address on "universities, actual and ideal," was delivered in fulfilment of this duty in february . chapter . . . [the year opens with a letter to tyndall, then on a lecturing tour in america:--] marlborough place, abbey road, n.w., january , [ ]. my dear tyndall, i cannot let this day go by without wishing you a happy new year, and lamenting your absence from our customary dinner. but hirst and spencer and michael foster are coming, and they shall drink your health in champagne while i do the like in cold water, making up by the strength of my good wishes for the weakness of the beverage. you see i write from the new house. getting into it was an awful job, made worse than needful by the infamous weather we have had for weeks and months, and by the stupid delays of the workmen, whom we had fairly to shove out at last as we came in. we are settling down by degrees, and shall be very comfortable by and by, though i do not suppose that we shall be able to use the drawing-room for two or three months to come. i am very glad to have made the change, but there is a drawback to everything in "this here wale," as mrs. gamp says and my present thorn in the flesh is a neighbour, who says i have injured him by certain operations in my garden, and is trying to get something out of me by chancery proceedings. fancy finding myself a defendant in chancery! it is particularly hard on me, as i have been especially careful to have nothing done without burton's sanction and assurance that i was quite safe in law; and i would have given up anything [rather] than have got into bother of this kind. but "sich is life." you seem to have been making a royal progress in yankee-land. we have been uncommonly tickled with some of the reports of your lectures which reached us, especially with that which spoke of your having "a strong english accent." the loss of your assistant seems to have been the only deduction to be made from your success. i am afraid you must have felt it much in all ways. "my lord" received your telegram only after the business of "securing hirst" was done. that is one of the bright spots in a bad year for me. goschen consulted spottiswood and me independently about the headship of the new naval college, and was naturally considerably surprised by the fact that we coincided in recommending hirst...the upshot was that goschen asked me to communicate with hirst and see if he would be disposed to accept the offer. so i did, and found to my great satisfaction that hirst took to the notion very kindly. i am sure he is the very best man for the post to be met with in the three kingdoms, having that rare combination of qualities by which he gets on with all manner of men, and singularly attracts young fellows. he will not only do his duty, but be beloved for doing it, which is what few people can compass. i have little news to give you. the tail of the x.-hooker storm is drifting over the scientific sky in the shape of fresh attacks by owen on hooker. hooker answered the last angelically, and i hope they are at an end. the wife has just come in and sends her love (but is careful to add "second-best"). the chicks grow visibly and audibly, and jess looks quite a woman. all are well except myself, and i am getting better from a fresh breakdown of dyspepsia. i find that if i am to exist at all it must be on strictly ascetic principles, so there is hope of my dying in the odour of sanctity yet. if you recollect, lancelot did not know that he should "die a holy man" till rather late in life. i have forgotten to tell you about the rectorship of aberdeen. i refused to stand at first, on the score of health, and only consented on condition that i should not be called upon to do any public work until after the long vacation. it was a very hard fight, and although i had an absolute majority of over fifty, the mode of election is such that one vote, in one of the four nations, would have turned the scale by giving my opponent the majority in that nation. we should then have been ties, and as the chancellor, who has under such circumstances a casting vote, would have (i believe) given it against me, i should have been beaten. as it is, the fact of any one, who stinketh in the nostrils of orthodoxy, beating a scotch peer at his own gates in the most orthodox of scotch cities, is a curious sign of the times. the reason why they made such a tremendous fight for me, is i believe, that i may carry on the reforms commenced by grant duff, my predecessor. unlike other lord rectors, he of aberdeen is a power and can practically govern the action of the university during his tenure of office. i saw pollock yesterday, and he says that they want you back again. curiously the same desire is epidemically prevalent among your friends, not least here. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [in spite of his anxieties, his health was slowly improving under careful regimen. he published no scientific memoirs this year, but in addition to his regular lectures, he was working to finish his "manual of invertebrate anatomy" and his "introductory primer," and to write his aberdeen address; he was also at work upon the "pedigree of the horse" and on "bodily motion and consciousness." he delivered a course to teachers on psychology and physiology, and was much occupied by the royal commission on science. as a governor of owens college he had various meetings to attend, though his duties did not extend, as some of his friends seem to have thought, to the appointment of a professor of physiology there.] my life (he writes to sir henry roscoe) is becoming a burden to me because of --. why i do not know, but for some reason people have taken it into their heads that i have something to do with appointments in owens college, and no fewer than three men of whose opinion i think highly have spoken or written to me urging --'s merits very strongly. [this summer he again took a long holiday, thanks to the generosity of his friends, and with better results. he went with his old friend hooker to the auvergne, walking, geologising, sketching, and gradually discarding doctor's orders. sir joseph hooker has very kindly written me a letter from which i give an account of this trip:-- it was during the many excursions we took together, either by ourselves or with one of my boys, that i knew him best at his best: and especially during one of several weeks' duration in the summer of , which we spent in central france and germany. he had been seriously ill, and was suffering from severe mental depression. for this he was ordered abroad by his physician, sir a. clark, to which step he offered a stubborn resistance. with mrs. huxley's approval, and being myself quite in the mood for a holiday, i volunteered to wrestle with him, and succeeded, holding out as an inducement a visit to the volcanic region of the auvergne with scrope's classical volume, which we both knew and admired, as a guide book. we started on july nd, i loaded with injunctions from his physician as to what his patient was to eat, drink, and avoid, how much he was to sleep and rest, how little to talk and walk, etc., that would have made the expedition a perpetual burthen to me had i not believed that i knew enough of my friend's disposition and ailments to be convinced that not only health but happiness would be our companions throughout. sure enough, for the first few days, including a short stay in paris, his spirits were low indeed, but this gave me the opportunity of appreciating his remarkable command over himself and his ever-present consideration for his companion. not a word or gesture of irritation ever escaped him; he exerted himself to obey the instructions laid down; nay, more, he was instant in his endeavour to save me trouble at hotels, railway stations, and ticket offices. still, some mental recreation was required to expedite recovery, and he found it first by picking up at a bookstall, a "history of the miracles of lourdes," which were then exciting the religious fervour of france, and the interest of her scientific public. he entered with enthusiasm into the subject, getting together all the treatises upon it, favourable or the reverse, that were accessible, and i need hardly add, soon arrived at the conclusion, that the so-called miracles were in part illusions and for the rest delusions. as it may interest some of your readers to know what his opinion was in this early stage of the manifestations, i will give it as he gave it to me. it was a case of two peasant children sent in the hottest month of the year into a hot valley to collect sticks for firewood washed up by a stream, when one of them after stooping down opposite a heat-reverberating rock, was, in rising, attacked with a transient vertigo, under which she saw a figure in white against the rock. this bare fact being reported to the cure of the village, all the rest followed. soon after our arrival at clermont ferrand, your father had so far recovered his wonted elasticity of spirits that he took a keen interest in everything around, the museums, the cathedral, where he enjoyed the conclusion of the service by a military band which gave selections from the figlia del regimento, but above all he appreciated the walks and drives to the geological features of the environs. he reluctantly refrained from ascending the puy de dome, but managed the pic parion, gergovia, royat, and other points of interest without fatigue... after clermont they visited the other four great volcanic areas explored by scrope, mont dore, the cantal, le puy, and the valley of the ardeche. under the care of his friend, and relieved from the strain of work, my father's health rapidly improved. he felt no bad effects from a night at mont dore, when, owing to the crowd of invalids in the little town, no better accommodation could be found than a couple of planks in a cupboard. next day they took up their quarters in an unpretentious cabaret at la tour d'auvergne, one of the villages on the slopes of the mountain, a few miles away. here (writes sir j. hooker), and for some time afterwards, on our further travels, we had many interesting and amusing experiences of rural life in the wilder parts of central france, its poverty, penury, and too often its inconceivable impositions and overcharges to foreigners, quite consistently with good feeling, politeness, and readiness to assist in many ways. by the th of july, nine days after setting out, i felt satisfied (he continues) that your father was equal to an excursion upon which he had set his heart, to the top of the pic de sancy, feet above la tour and miles distant. it was on this occasion that the friends made what they thought a new discovery, namely evidence of glacial action in central france. besides striated stones in the fields or built into the walls, they noticed the glaciated appearance of one of the valleys descending from the peak, and especially some isolated gigantic masses of rock on an open part of the valley, several miles away, as to which they debated whether they were low buildings or transported blocks. sir joseph visited them next day, and found they were the latter, brought down from the upper part of the peak. (he published an account of these blocks in "nature" , , but subsequently found that glaciation had been observed by von lassaul in and by sir william guise in .) lepuy offered a special attraction apart from scenery and geology. in the museum was the skeleton of a prehistoric man that had been found in the breccia of the neighbourhood, associated with the remains of the rhinoceros, elephant, and other extinct mammals. my father's sketch-book contains drawings of these bones and of the ravine where they were discovered, although in spite of directions from m. aymard, the curator, he could not find the exact spot. under the sketch is a description of the remains, in which he notes,] "the bones do not look fresher than some of those of elephas and rhinoceros in the same or adjacent cases." [as for the final stage of the excursion:-- after leaving the ardeche (continues sir j. hooker), with no scrope to lead or follow, our scientific ardours collapsed. we had vague views as to future travel. whatever one proposed was unhesitatingly acceded to by the other. a more happy-go-lucky pair of idlers never joined company. as will be seen from the following letters, they made their way to the black forest, where they stayed till sir joseph's duties called him back to england, and my mother came out to join my father for the rest of his holiday. (you ask me (sir joseph adds) whether your father smoked on the occasion of this tour. yes, he did, cigars in moderation. but the history of his addiction to tobacco that grew upon him later in life, dates from an earlier excursion that we took together, and i was the initiator of the practice. it happened in this wise; he had been suffering from what was supposed to be gastric irritation, and, being otherwise "run down," we agreed to go, in company with sir john lubbock, on a tour to visit the great monoliths of brittany. this was in . on arriving at dinan he suffered so much, that i recommended his trying a few cigarettes which i had with me. they acted as a charm, and this led to cigars, and finally, about i think, to the pipe. that he subsequently carried the use of tobacco to excess is, i think, unquestionable. i repeatedly remonstrated with him, at last i think (by backing his medical adviser) with effect. i have never blamed myself for the "teaching him" to smoke, for the practice habitually palliated his distressing symptoms when nothing else did, nor can his chronic illness be attributed to the abuse of tobacco.) the following letters to sir h. roscoe and dr. tyndall were written during this tour:--] le puy, haute loire, france, july , . my dear roscoe, your very kind letter reached me just as i was in the hurry of getting away from england, and i have been carrying it about in my pocket ever since. hooker and i have been having a charming time of it among the volcanoes of the auvergne, and we are now on our way to those of the velay and vivarrais. the weather has been almost perfect. perhaps a few degrees of temperature could have been spared now and then, especially at clermont, of which somebody once said that having stayed there the climate of hell would have no terrors for him. it has been warm in the mont dore country and in the cantal, as it is here, but we are very high up, and there is a charming freshness and purity about the air. i do not expect to be back before the end of september, and my lectures begin somewhere in the second week of october. after they commence i shall not be able to leave london even for a day, but i shall be very glad to come to the inauguration of your new buildings if the ceremony falls within my possible time. and you know i am always glad to be your guest. i am thriving wonderfully. indeed all that plagues me now is my conscience, for idling about when i feel full of vigour. but i promised to be obedient, and i am behaving better than auld clootie did when he fell sick. i hope you are routing out the gout. this would be the place for you--any quantity of mineral waters. pray remember me very kindly to mrs. roscoe, and believe me, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hotel de france, baden-baden, july , . my dear tyndall, we find ourselves here after a very successful cruise in the auvergne and ardeche, successful at least so far as beauty and geological interest go. the heat was killing, and obliged us to give up all notion of going to ursines, as we had at first intended to do. so we turned our faces north and made for grenoble, hoping for a breath of cool air from the mountains of dauphiny. but grenoble was hotter even than clermont (which, by the way, quite deserves its reputation as a competitor with hell), a neighbour's drains were adrift close to the hotel, and we got poisoned before we could escape. luckily we got off with nothing worse than a day or two's diarrhoea. after this the best thing seemed to be to rush northward to gernsbach, which had been described to me as a sort of earthly paradise. we reached the place last saturday night, and found ourselves in a big rambling hotel, crammed full of people, and planted in the bottom of a narrow valley, all hot and steaming. a large pigstye "convenient" to the house mingled its vapours with those of the seventy or eighty people who ate and drank without any other earthly occupation that we could discern during the three days we were bound, by stress of letters and dirty linen, to stop. on monday we made an excursion over here, prospecting, and the air was so fresh and good, and things in general looked so promising that i made up my mind to put up in baden-baden until the wife joins me. she writes me that you talk of leaving england on friday, and i may remark that baden is on the high road to switzerland. verbum sap. i am wonderfully better, and really feel ashamed of loafing about when i might very well be at work. but i have promised to make holiday, and make holiday i will. no proof of your answer to forbes' biographer reached me before i left, so i suppose you had not received one in time. i am dying to see it out. hooker is down below, but i take upon myself to send his love. he is in great force now that he has got rid of his grenoble mulligrubs. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [after parting company with hooker, he paid a flying visit to professor bonnet at geneva; then he was joined by his wife and son for the last three weeks of the holiday, which were spent at baden and in the bernese oberland. before this, he writes home:--] i feel quite a different man from what i was two months ago, and you will say that you have a much more creditable husband than the broken-down old fellow who has been a heart-ache to you so long, when you see me. the sooner you can get away the better. if the rest only does you as much good as it does me, i shall be very happy. axenstein, luzerne, august , . my dear tyndall, the copies of your booklet ["principal forbes and his biographers."] intended for hooker and me reached me just as i left baden last tuesday. hooker had left me for home a fortnight before, and i hardly know whether to send his to kew or keep them for him till i return. i have read mine twice, and i think that nothing could be better than the tone you have adopted. i did not suspect that you had such a shot in your locker as the answer to forbes about the direction of the "crevasses" referred to by rendu. it is a deadly thrust; and i shall be curious to see what sort of parry the other side will attempt. for of course they will attempt something. scotland is, i believe, the only country in the world in which you can bring in action for "putting to silence" an adversary who will go on with an obviously hopeless suit. the lawgivers knew the genius of the people; and it is to be regretted that they could not establish a process of the same sort in scientific matters. i wrote to you a month ago to tell you how we had been getting on in france. hooker and i were very jolly, notwithstanding the heat, and i think that the vivarrais is the most instructive country in the world for seeing what water can do in cutting down the hardest rocks. scrope's book is very good on the whole, though the pictures are a little overdone. my wife and leonard met me at cologne on the th. then we went on to baden and rested till last tuesday, when we journeyed to luzerne and, getting out of that hot and unsavoury hole as fast as we could, came here last thursday. we find ourselves very well off. the hotel is perched up feet above the lake, with a beautiful view of pilatus on the west and of the urner see on the south. on the north we have the schwyz valley, so that we are not shut in, and the air is very good and fresh. there are plenty of long walks to be had without much fatigue, which suits the wife. leonard promises to have very good legs of his own with plenty of staying power. i have given him one or two sharp walks, and i find he has plenty of vigour and endurance. but he is not thirteen yet and i do not mean to let him do overmuch, though we are bent on a visit to a glacier. i began to tell him something about the glaciers the other day, but i was promptly shut up with, "oh, yes! i know all about that. it's in dr. tyndall's book."--which said book he seems to me to have got by heart. he is the sweetest little fellow imaginable; and either he has developed immensely in the course of the last year, or i have never been so much thrown together with him alone, and have not had the opportunity of making him out. you are a fatherly old bachelor, and will not think me a particularly great donkey for prattling on in this way about my swan, who probably to unprejudiced eyes has a power of goose about him. i suppose you know that in company with yourself and hooker, the paternal gander (t.h.h.) has been honoured by the king of sweden and made into a polar goose by the order of the north star. hooker has explained to the swedish ambassador that english officials are prohibited by order in council from accepting foreign orders, and i believe keeps the cross and ribbon on these conditions. if it were an ordinary decoration i should decline with thanks, but i am told it is a purely scientific and literary affair like the prussian "pour le merite"; so when i get back i shall follow hooker's line. i met laugel on board the luzerne steamboat the other day, and he told me that you were at the belalp--gallivanting as usual, and likely to remain there for some time. so i send this on the chance of finding you. with best love from us all, ever yours, t.h. huxley. i am as well as i ever was in my life--regularly set up--in token whereof i have shaved off my beard. [in another letter to his wife, dated august , from baden, there is a very interesting passage about himself and his aims. he has just been speaking about his son's doings at school:--] i have been having a great deal of talk with myself about my future career too, and i have often thought over what you say in the letter you wrote to the puy. i don't quite understand what -- meant about the disputed reputation, unless it is a reputation for getting into disputes. but to say truth i am not greatly concerned about any reputation except that of being entirely honest and straightforward, and that reputation i think and hope i have. for the rest...the part i have to play is not to found a new school of thought or to reconcile the antagonisms of the old schools. we are in the midst of a gigantic movement greater than that which preceded and produced the reformation, and really only the continuation of that movement. but there is nothing new in the ideas which lie at the bottom of the movement, nor is any reconcilement possible between free thought and traditional authority. one or other will have to succumb after a struggle of unknown duration, which will have as side issues vast political and social troubles. i have no more doubt that free thought will win in the long run than i have that i sit here writing to you, or that this free thought will organise itself into a coherent system, embracing human life and the world as one harmonious whole. but this organisation will be the work of generations of men, and those who further it most will be those who teach men to rest in no lie, and to rest in no verbal delusions. i may be able to help a little in this direction--perhaps i may have helped already. for the present, however, i am disposed to draw myself back entirely into my own branch of physical science. there is enough and to spare for me to do in that line, and, for years to come, i do not mean to be tempted out of it. [strangely enough, this was the one thing he was destined not to do. official work multiplied about him. from to only two years passed without his serving on one or two royal commissions. he was secretary of the royal society from to , and president from to his retirement, owing to ill-health, in . he became dean as well as professor of biology in the college of science, and inspector of fisheries. though he still managed to find some time for anatomical investigations, and would steal a precious hour or half-hour by driving back from the home office to his laboratory at south kensington before returning home to st. john's wood, the amount of such work as he was able to publish could not be very great. his most important contributions during this decennium (writes sir m. foster) were in part continuations of his former labours, such as the paper and subsequent full memoir on stagonolepis, which appeared in and , and papers on the skull. the facts that he called a communication to the royal society, in (written .), on amphioxus, a preliminary note, and that a paper read to the zoological society in , on ceratodus forsteri, was marked number of the series of contributions to morphology, showed that he still had before him the prospect of much anatomical work, to be accomplished when opportunity offered; but, alas! the opportunity which came was small, the preliminary note had no full successor, and number was only followed, and that after an interval of seven years, by a brief number . a paper "on the characters of the pelvis," in the "proceedings of the royal society," in , is full of suggestive thought, but its concluding passages seem to suggest that others, and not he himself, were to carry out the ideas. most of the papers of this decennium deal with vertebrate morphology, and are more or less connected with his former researches, but in one respect, at least, he broke quite fresh ground. he had chosen the crayfish as one of the lessons for the class in general biology spoken of above, and was thus drawn into an interesting study of crayfishes, by which he was led to a novel and important analysis of the gill plumes as evidence of affinity and separation. he embodied the main results of his studies in a paper to the zoological society, and treated the whole subject in a more popular style in a book on the crayfish. in a somewhat similar way, having taken the dog as an object lesson in mammalian anatomy for his students, he was led to a closer study of that common animal, resulting in papers on that subject to the zoological society in , and in two lectures at the royal institution in . he had intended so to develop this study of the dog as to make it tell the tale of mammalian morphology; but this purpose, too, remained unaccomplished. moreover, though he sent one paper (on hyperodapedon gordoni) to the geological society as late as , yet the complete breakdown of his health in , which released him from nearly all his official duties, at the same time dulled his ardour for anatomical pursuits. stooping over his work became an impossibility. though he carried about him, as does every man of like calibre and experience, a heavy load of fragments of inquiry begun but never finished, and as heavy a load of ideas for promising investigations never so much as even touched, though his love of science and belief in it might never have wavered, though he never doubted the value of the results which further research would surely bring him, there was something working within him which made his hand, when turned to anatomical science, so heavy that he could not lift it. not even that which was so strong within him, the duty of fulfilling a promise, could bring him to the work. in his room at south kensington, where for a quarter of a century he had laboured with such brilliant effect, there lay on his working table for months, indeed for years, partly dissected specimens of the rare and little studied marine animal, spirula, of which he had promised to contribute an account to the reports of the "challenger" expedition, and hard by lay the already engraven plates; there was still wanted nothing more than some further investigation and the working out of the results. but it seemed as if some hidden hands were always being stretched out to keep him from the task; and eventually another labourer had to complete it. (ibid.) the remaining letters of this year include several to dr. dohrn, which show the continued interest my father took in the great project of the biological station at naples, which was carried through in spite of many difficulties. he had various books and proceedings of learned societies sent out at dr. dohrn's request (i omit the details), and proposed a scheme for raising funds towards completing the building when the contractor failed. the scheme, however, was not put into execution.] marlborough place, february , . my dear dohrn, i was very glad to receive the fine sealed letter, and to get some news of you--though to be sure there is not much of you in the letter, but all is "station, station." i congratulate you heartily on your success with your undertaking, and i only wish i could see england represented among the applicants for tables. but you see england is so poor, and the present price of coals obliges her to economise. i envy you your visit from "pater anchises" baer, and rejoice to hear that the grand old man is well and strong enough to entertain such a project. i wish i could see my way to doing the like. i have had a long bout of illness--ever since august--but i am now very much better, indeed, i hope i may say quite well. the weariness of all this has been complicated by the trouble of getting into a new house, and in addition a lawsuit brought by a knavish neighbour, in the hope of extracting money out of me. i am happy to say, however, that he has just been thoroughly and effectually defeated. it has been a new experience for me, and i hope it may be my last as well as my first acquaintance with english law, which is a luxury of the most expensive character. if dr. kleinenberg is with you, please to tell him, with my compliments and thanks for the copy of his memoir, that i went over his hydra paper pretty carefully in the summer, and satisfied myself as to the correctness of his statements about the structure of the ectoderm and about the longitudinal fibres. about the endoderm i am not so clear, and i often found indications of delicate circular fibres in close apposition with the longitudinal ones. however, i had not time to work all this out, and perhaps might as well say nothing about it. pray make my very kind remembrances to mr. grant. i trust that his dramas may have a brilliant reception. the happy family flourishes. but we shall look to your coming to see us. the house is big enough now to give you a bedroom, and you know you will have no lack of welcome. i have said nothing about my wife (who has been in a state not only of superhuman, but of superfeminine, activity for the last three months) meaning to leave her the last page to speak for herself. with best compliments to the "ladies downstairs," ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, october , . my dear dohrn, your letter reached me nearly a week ago, and i have been turning over its contents in my mind as well as i could, but have been able to come to no clear conclusion until now. i have been incessantly occupied with other things. i will do for you, and gladly, anything i would do for myself, but i could not apply on my own behalf to any of those rich countrymen of mine, unless they were personally well known to me, and i had the opportunity of feeling my way with them. but if you are disposed to apply to any of the people you mention, i shall be only too glad to back your application with all the force i am master of. you may make use of my name to any extent as guarantor of the scientific value and importance of your undertaking and refer any one to whom you may apply to me. it may be, in fact, that this is all you want, but as you have taken to the caprice of writing in my tongue instead of in that vernacular, idiomatic and characteristically dohrnian german in which i delight, i am not so sure about your meaning. there is a rub for you. if you write to me in english again i will send the letter back without paying the postage. in any case let me have a precise statement of your financial position. i may have a chance of talking to some croesus, and the first question he is sure to ask me is--how am i to know that this is a stable affair, and that i am not throwing my money into the sea?... [referring to an unpleasant step it seemed necessary to take]...you must make up your mind to act decidedly and take the consequences. no good is ever done in this world by hesitation... i hope you are physically better. look sharply after your diet, take exercise and defy the blue-devils, and you will weather the storm. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [tyndall, who had not attended the meeting of the british association, had heard that some local opposition had been offered to his election as president for the belfast meeting in , and had written:-- i wish to have an you had not persuaded me to accept that belfast duty. they do not want me...but spottiswoode assures me that no individual offered the slightest support to the two unscientific persons who showed opposition. the following was written in reply:--] marlborough place, september , . my dear tyndall, i am sure you are mistaken about the belfast people. that blundering idiot of -- wanted to make himself important and get up a sort of "home rule" agitation in the association, but nobody backed him and he collapsed. i am at your disposition for whatever you want me to do, as you know, and i am sure hooker is of the same mind. we shall not be ashamed when we meet our enemies in the gate. the grace of god cannot entirely have deserted you since you are aware of the temperature of that ferocious epistle. reeks [the late trenham reeks, registrar of the school of mines, and curator of the museum of practical geology.], whom i saw yesterday, was luxuriating in it, and said (confound his impudence) that it was quite my style. i forgot to tell him, by the bye, that i had resigned in your favour ever since the famous letter to carpenter. well, so long as you are better after it there is no great harm done. somebody has sent me the two numbers of scribner with blauvelt's articles on "modern skepticism." they seem to be very well done, and he has a better appreciation of the toughness of the job before him than any of the writers of his school with whom i have met. but it is rather cool of you to talk of his pitching into spencer when you are chief target yourself. i come in only par parenthese, and i am glad to see that people are beginning to understand my real position, and to separate me from such raging infidels as you and spencer. ever thine, t.h. huxley. [he was unable to attend the opening of owens college this autumn, and having received but a scanty account of the proceedings, wrote as follows:--] marlborough place, london, n.w., october , . my dear roscoe, i consider myself badly used. nobody has sent me a manchester paper with the proceedings of the day of inauguration, when, i hear, great speeches were made. i did get two papers containing your opening lecture, and the "fragment of a morality," for which i am duly grateful, but two copies of one days' proceedings are not the same thing as one copy of two days' proceedings, and i consider it is very disrespectful to a governor (large g) not to let him know what went on. by all accounts which have reached me it was a great success, and i congratulate you heartily. i only wish that i could have been there to see. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the autumn brought a slow improvement in health--] i am travelling [he writes] between the two stations of dyspepsia and health thus [illustrated by a zigzag with "mean line ascending". [the sympathy of the convalescent appears in various letters to friends who were ill. thus, in reply to mr. hyde clarke, the philologist and, like himself, a member of the ethnological society, he writes:--] november , . i am glad to learn two things from your note--first, that you are getting better; second, that there is hope of some good coming out of that ashantee row, if only in the shape of rare vocables. my attention is quite turned away from anthropological matters at present, but i will bear your question in mind if opportunity offers. [a letter to professor rolleston at oxford gives a lively account of his own ailments, which could only have been written by one now recovering from them, while the illness of another friend raised a delicate point of honour, which he laid before the judgment of mr. darwin, more especially as the latter had been primarily concerned in the case.] marlborough place, october , . my dear rolleston, a note which came from mrs. rolleston to my wife the other day, kindly answering some inquiries of ours about the oxford middle class examination, gave us but a poor account of your health. this kind of thing won't do, you know. here is -- ill, and i doing all i can to persuade him to go away and take care of himself, and now comes ill news of you. is it dyspeps again? if so follow in my steps. i mean to go about the country, with somebody who can lecture, as the "horrid example"--cured. nothing but gross and disgusting intemperance, sir, was the cause of all my evil. and now that i have been a teetotaller for nine months, and have cut down my food supply to about half of what i used to eat, the enemy is beaten. i have carried my own permissive bill, and no canteen (except for my friends who still sit in darkness) is allowed on the premises. and as this is the third letter i have written before breakfast (a thing i never could achieve in the days when i wallowed in the stye of epicurus), you perceive that i am as vigorous as ever i was in my life. let me have news of you, and believe me, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. athenaeum club, november , . my dear darwin, you will have heard (in fact i think i mentioned the matter when i paid you my pleasant visit the other day) that -- is ill and obliged to go away for six months to a warm climate. it is a great grief to me, as he is a man for whom i have great esteem and affection, apart from his high scientific merits, and his symptoms are such as cause very grave anxiety. i shall be happily disappointed if that accursed consumption has not got hold of him. the college authorities have behaved as well as they possibly could to him, and i do not suppose that his enforced retirement for a while gives him the least pecuniary anxiety, as his people are all well off, and he himself has an income apart from his college pay. nevertheless, under such circumstances, a man with half a dozen children always wants all the money he can lay hands on; and whether he does or no, he ought not to be allowed to deprive himself of any, which leads me to the gist of my letter. his name was on your list as one of those hearty friends who came to my rescue last year, and it was the only name which made me a little uneasy, for i doubted whether it was right for a man with his responsibilities to make sacrifices of this sort. however, i stifled that feeling, not seeing what else i could do without wounding him. but now my conscience won't let me be, and i do not think that any consideration ought to deter me from getting his contribution back to him somehow or other. there is no one to whose judgment on a point of honour i would defer more readily than yours, and i am quite sure you will agree with me. i really am quite unhappy and ashamed to think of myself as vigorous and well at the expense of his denying himself any rich man's caprice he might take a fancy to. so, my dear, good friend, let me know what his contribution was, that i may get it back to him somehow or other, even if i go like nicodemus privily and by night to his bankers. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [my father's health continued fairly good in , and while careful to avoid excessive strain he was able to undertake nearly as much as before his illness outside his regular work at south kensington, the royal society, and on the royal commission. to this year belong three important essays, educational and philosophical. from february to march he was at aberdeen, staying first with professor bain, afterwards with mr. webster, in fulfilment of his first duty as lord rector to deliver an address to the students. (it may be noted that between and he and professor bain were the only lord rectors of aberdeen university elected on non-political grounds.) taking as his subject "universities, actual and ideal," he then proceeded to vindicate, historically and philosophically, the claims of natural science to take the place from which it had so long been ousted in the universal culture which a university professes to give. more especially he demanded an improved system of education in the medical school, a point to which he gave practical effect in the council of the university.] in an ideal university, as i conceive it, a man should be able to obtain instruction in all forms of knowledge, and discipline in the use of all the methods by which knowledge is obtained. in such a university the force of living example should fire the student with a noble ambition to emulate the learning of learned men, and to follow in the footsteps of the explorers of new fields of knowledge. and the very air he breathes should be charged with that enthusiasm for truth, that fanaticism of veracity, which is a greater possession than much learning; a nobler gift than the power of increasing knowledge; by so much greater and nobler than these, as the moral nature of man is greater than the intellectual; for veracity is the heart of morality. [("collected essays" sqq.) as for the "so-called 'conflict of studies,'" he exclaims:--] one might as well inquire which of the terms of a rule of three sum one ought to know in order to get a trustworthy result. practical life is such a sum, in which your duty multiplied into your capacity and divided by your circumstances gives you the fourth term in the proportion, which is your deserts, with great accuracy. [the knowledge on which medical practice should be based is] "the sort of practical, familiar, finger-end knowledge which a watchmaker has of a watch," [the knowledge gained in the dissecting-room and laboratory.] until each of the greater truths of anatomy and physiology has become an organic part of your minds--until you would know them if you were roused and questioned in the middle of the night, as a man knows the geography of his native place and the daily life of his home. that is the sort of knowledge which, once obtained, is a lifelong possession. other occupations may fill your minds--it may grow dim and seem to be forgotten--but there it is, like the inscription on a battered and defaced coin, which comes out when you warm it. [hence the necessity to concentrate the attention on these cardinal truths, and to discard a number of extraneous subjects commonly supposed to be requisite whether for general culture of the medical student or to enable him to correct the possible mistakes of druggists. against this "latin fetish" in medical education, as he used to call it, he carried on a lifelong campaign, as may be gathered from his published essays on medical education, and from letters given in later chapters of this book. but there is another side to such limitation in professional training. though literature is an essential in the preliminary, general education, culture is not solely dependent upon classics.] moreover, i would urge that a thorough study of human physiology is in itself an education broader and more comprehensive than much that passes under that name. there is no side of the intellect which it does not call into play, no region of human knowledge into which either its roots or its branches do not extend; like the atlantic between the old and new worlds, its waves wash the shores of the two worlds of matter and of mind; its tributary streams flow from both; through its waters, as yet unfurrowed by the keel of any columbus, lies the road, if such there be, from the one to the other; far away from that north-west passage of mere speculation, in which so many brave souls have been hopelessly frozen up. [of the address he writes to his wife, february :--] i have just come back from the hall in which the address was delivered, somewhat tired. the hall was very large, and contained, i suppose, a couple of thousand people, and the students made a terrific row at intervals, though they were quiet enough at times. as the address took me an hour and a half to deliver, and my voice has been very shaky ever since i have been here, i did not dare to put too much strain upon it, and i suspect that the people at the end of the hall could have heard very little. however, on the whole, it went off better than i expected. [and to professor baynes:--] i am very glad you liked my address. the students were abnormally quiet for the first half-hour, and then made up for their reticence by a regular charivari for the rest of the time. however, i was consoled by hearing that they were much quieter than usual. dr. john muir's appreciation is worth having. it did not occur to me that what i had to say would interest people out of britain, but to my surprise i had an application from a german for permission to translate the address the other day. [again to his wife, march :--] ...i was considerably tired after my screed on friday, but bain and i took a long walk, and i was fresh again by dinner-time. i dined with the senators at a hotel in the town, and of course had to make a speech or two. however i cut all that as fast as i could. they were all very apologetic for the row the students made. after the dinner one of the professors came to ask me if i would have any objection to attend service in the college chapel on sunday, as the students would like it. i said i was quite ready to do anything it was customary for the rector to do, and so this morning in half an hour's time i shall be enduring the pains and penalties of a presbyterian service. there was to have been another meeting of the university court yesterday, but the principal was suffering so much from an affection of the lungs that i adjourned the meeting till to-morrow. did i tell you that i carried all my resolutions about improving the medical curriculum? fact, though greatly to my astonishment. to-morrow we go in for some reforms in the arts curriculum, and i expect that the job will be tougher. i send you a couple of papers--"scotsman," with a very good leading article, and the "aberdeen herald" also with a leading article, which is as much favourable as was to be expected...the websters are making me promise to bring you and one of the children here next autumn. they are wonderfully kind people. march . my work here finishes to-day. there is a meeting of the council at one o'clock, and before that i am to go and look over laboratories and collections with sundry professors. then there is the supper at half-past eight and the inevitable speeches, for which i am not in the least inclined at present. i went officially to the college chapel yesterday, and went through a presbyterian service for the first time in my life. may it be the last! then to lunch at professor struthers' and back here for a small dinner-party. i am standing it all well, for the weather is villainous and there is no getting any exercise. i shall leave here by the twelve o'clock train to-morrow. [on august he delivered an address on "joseph priestley" ("collected essays" ) at birmingham, on the occasion of the presentation of a statue of priestley to that town. the biography of this pioneer of science and of political reform, who was persecuted for opinions that have in less than a century become commonplaces of orthodox thought, suggested a comparison between those times and this, and evoked a sincere if not very enthusiastic tribute to one who had laboured to better the world, not for the sake of worldly honour, but for the sake of truth and right. as the way to birmingham lay through oxford, he was asked by professor ray lankester, then a fellow of exeter college, if he could not break his journey there, and inspect the results of his investigations on lymnaeus. the answer was as follows:--] we go to birmingham on friday by the three o'clock train, but there is no chance of stopping at oxford either going or coming, so that unless you bring a lymnaeus or two (under guise of periwinkles for refreshment) to the carriage door i shall not be able to see them. [the following letters refer both to this address on priestley, and to the third of the important addresses of this year, that "on the hypothesis that animals are automata, and its history" ("collected essays" , see also below). the latter was delivered at belfast before the british association under tyndall's presidency. it appears that only a month before, he had not so much as decided upon his subject--indeed, was thinking of something quite different. the first allusion in these letters is to a concluding phase of tyndall's controversy upon the claims of the late principal forbes in the matter of glacier theory:--] marlborough place, london, n.w., june , . my dear tyndall, i quite agree with your scotch friend in his estimate of forbes, and if he were alive and the controversy beginning, i should say draw your picture in your best sepia or lampblack. but i have been thinking over this matter a good deal since i received your letter, and my verdict is, leave that tempting piece of portraiture alone. the world is neither was nor just, but it makes up for all its folly and injustice by being damnably sentimental, and the more severely true your portrait might be the more loud would be the outcry against it. i should say publish a new edition of your "glaciers of the alps," make a clear historical statement of all the facts showing forbes' relations to rendu and agassiz, and leave the matter to the judgment of your contemporaries. that will sink in and remain when all the hurly-burly is over. i wonder if that address is begun, and if you are going to be as wise and prudent as i was at liverpool. when i think of the temptation i resisted on that occasion, like clive when he was charged with peculation, "i marvel at my own forbearance!" let my example be a burning and a shining light to you. i declare i have horrid misgivings of your kicking over the traces. the "x" comes off on saturday next, so let your ears burn, for we shall be talking about you. i have just begun my lectures to schoolmasters, and i wish they were over, though i am very well on the whole. griffith [for many years secretary to the british association.] wrote to ask for the title of my lecture at belfast, and i had to tell him i did not know yet. i shall not begin to think of it till the middle of july when these lectures are over. the wife would send her love, but she has gone to kew to one of hooker's receptions, taking miss jewsbury, who is staying with us. [miss geraldine jewsbury ( - ) the novelist, and friend of the carlyles. after she lived at sevenoaks.] i was to have gone to the college of physicians' dinner to-night, but i was so weary when i got home that i made up my mind to send an excuse. and then came the thought that i had not written to you. ever yours sincerely, t.h. huxley. [the next letter is in reply to tyndall, who had written as follows from switzerland on july :-- i confess to you that i am far more anxious about your condition than about my own; for i fear that after your london labour the labour of this lecture will press heavily upon you. i wish to heaven it could be transferred to other shoulders. i wish i could get rid of the uncomfortable idea that i have drawn upon you at a time when your friend and brother ought to be anxious to spare you every labour... ps.--have just seen the swiss "times"; am intensely disgusted to find that while i was brooding over the calamities possibly consequent on your lending me a hand, that you have been at the derby statue, and are to make an oration apropos of the priestley statue in birmingham on the st august!!!] marlborough place, london, n.w., july , . my dear tyndall, i hope you have been taking more care of your instep than you did of your leg in old times. don't try mortifying the flesh again. i was uncommonly amused at your disgustful wind-up after writing me such a compassionate letter. i am as jolly as a sandboy so long as i live on a minimum and drink no alcohol, and as vigorous as ever i was in my life. but a late dinner wakes up my demoniac colon and gives me a fit of blue devils with physical precision. don't believe that i am at all the places in which the newspapers put me. for example, i was not at the lord mayor's dinner last night. as for lord derby's statue, i wanted to get a lesson in the art of statue unveiling. i help to pay dizzie's salary, so i don't see why i should not get a wrinkle from that artful dodger. i plead guilty to having accepted the birmingham invitation [to unveil the statue of joseph priestley]. i thought they deserved to be encouraged for having asked a man of science to do the job instead of some noble swell, and, moreover, satan whispered that it would be a good opportunity for a little ventilation of wickedness. i cannot say, however, that i can work myself up into much enthusiasm for the dry old unitarian who did not go very deep into anything. but i think i may make him a good peg whereon to hang a discourse on the tendencies of modern thought. i was not at the cambridge pow-wow--not out of prudence, but because i was not asked. i suppose that decent respect towards a secretary of the royal society was not strong enough to outweigh university objections to the incumbent of that office. it is well for me that i expect nothing from oxford or cambridge, having burned my ships so far as they were concerned long ago. i sent your note on to knowles as soon as it arrived, but i have heard nothing from him. i wrote to him again to-night to say he had better let me see it in proof if he is going to print it. i am right glad you find anything worth reading again in my old papers. i stand by the view i took of the origin of species now as much as ever. shall i not see the address? it is tantalising to hear of your progress, and not to know what is in it. i am thinking of taking development for the subject of my evening lecture, the concrete facts made out in the last thirty years without reference to evolution. [i.e. at the british association; he actually took "animals as automata."] if people see that it is evolution, that is nature's fault, and not mine. we are all flourishing, and send our love. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the paper on animal automatism is in effect an enlargement of a short paper read before the metaphysical society in , under the title of "has a frog a soul?" it begins with a vindication of descartes as a great physiologist, doing for the physiology of motion and sensation that which harvey had done for the circulation of the blood. a series of propositions which constitute the foundation and essence of the modern physiology of the nervous system are fully expressed and illustrated in the writings of descartes. modern physiological research, which has shown that many apparently purposive acts are performed by animals, and even by men, deprived of consciousness, and therefore of volition, is at least compatible with the theory of automatism in animals, although the doctrine of continuity forbids the belief that] "such complex phenomena as those of consciousness first make their appearance in man." [and if the volitions of animals do not enter into the chain of causation of their actions at all, the fact lays at rest the question] "how is it possible to imagine that volition, which is a state of consciousness, and, as such, has not the slightest community of nature with matter in motion, can act upon the moving matter of which the body is composed, as it is assumed to do in voluntary acts?" [as for man, the argumentation, if sound, holds equally good. states of consciousness are immediately caused by molecular changes of the brain-substance, and our mental conditions are simply the symbols in consciousness of the changes which take place automatically in the organism. as for the bugbear of the] "logical consequences" [of this conviction,] "i may be permitted to remark [he says] that logical consequences are the scarecrows of fools and the beacons of wise men." [and if st. augustine, calvin, and jonathan edwards have held in substance the view that men are conscious automata, to hold this view does not constitute a man a fatalist, a materialist, nor an atheist. and he takes occasion once more to declare that he ranks among none of these philosophers.] not among fatalists, for i take the conception of necessity to have a logical, and not a physical foundation; not among materialists, for i am utterly incapable of conceiving the existence of matter if there is no mind in which to picture that existence; not among atheists, for the problem of the ultimate cause of existence is one which seems to me to be hopelessly out of reach of my poor powers. of all the senseless babble i have ever had occasion to read, the demonstrations of these philosophers who undertake to tell us all about the nature of god would be the worst, if they were not surpassed by the still greater absurdities of the philosophers who try to prove that there is no god. [this essay was delivered as an evening address on august , the monday of the association week. a vast stir had been created by the treatment of deep-reaching problems in professor tyndall's presidential address; interest was still further excited by this unexpected excursion into metaphysics. "i remember," writes sir m. foster, "having a talk with him about the lecture before he gave it. i think i went to his lodgings--and he sketched out what he was going to say. the question was whether, in view of the tyndall row, it was wise in him to take the line he had marked out. in the end i remember his saying,] 'grasp your nettle, that is what i have got to do.'" [but apart from the subject, the manner of the address struck the audience as a wonderful tour de force. the man who at first disliked public speaking, and always expected to break down on the platform, now, without note or reference of any kind, discoursed for an hour and a half upon a complex and difficult subject, in the very words which he had thought out and afterwards published. this would have been a remarkable achievement if he had planned to do so and had learned up his speech; but the fact was that he was compelled to speak offhand on the spur of the moment. he describes the situation in a letter of february , , to professor ray lankester:--] i knew that i was treading on very dangerous ground, so i wrote out uncommonly full and careful notes, and had them in my hand when i stepped on to the platform. then i suddenly became aware of the bigness of the audience, and the conviction came upon me that, if i looked at my notes, not one half would hear me. it was a bad ten seconds, but i made my election and turned the notes face downwards on the desk. to this day, i do not exactly know how the thing managed to roll itself out; but it did, as you say, for the best part of an hour and a half. there's a story pour vous encourager if you are ever in a like fix. [he writes home on august :--] johnny's address went off exceedingly well last night. there was a mighty gathering in the ulster hall, and he delivered his speech very well. the meeting promises to be a good one, as there are over members already, and i daresay they will mount up to before the end. the hookers' arrangements [i.e. for the members of the x club and their wives to club together at belfast] all went to smash as i rather expected they would, but i have a very good clean lodging well outside the town where i can be quiet if i like, and on the whole i think that is better, as i shall be able to work up my lectures in peace... august . everything is going on very well here. the weather is delightful, and under these circumstances my lodgings here with john ball for a companion turns out to be a most excellent arrangement. ca va sans dire, though, by the way, that is a bull induced by the locality. i am not going on any of the excursions on sunday. i am going to have a quiet day here when everybody will suppose that i have accepted everybody else's invitation to be somewhere else. the ulster hall, in which the addresses are delivered, seems to me to be a terrible room to speak in, and i mean to nurse my energies all monday. i sent you a cutting from one of the papers containing an account of me that will amuse you. the writer is evidently disappointed that i am not a turbulent savage. august . ...my work is over and i start for kingstown, where i mean to sleep to-night, in an hour. i have just sent you a full and excellent report of my lecture. ["on animals as automata": see above.] i am glad to say it was a complete success. i never was in better voice in my life, and i spoke for an hour and a half without notes, the people listening as still as mice. there has been a great row about tyndall's address, and i had some reason to expect that i should have to meet a frantically warlike audience. but it was quite otherwise, and though i spoke my mind with very great plainness, i never had a warmer reception. and i am not without hope that i have done something to allay the storm, though, as you may be sure, i did not sacrifice plain speaking to that end...i have been most creditably quiet here, and have gone to no dinners or breakfasts or other such fandangoes except those i accepted before leaving home. sunday i spent quietly here, thinking over my lecture and putting my peroration, which required a good deal of care, into shape. i wandered out into the fields in the afternoon, and sat a long time thinking of all that had happened since i was here a young beginner, two and twenty, and...you were largely in my thoughts, which were full of blessings and tender memories. i had a good night's work last night. i dined with the president of the college, and then gave my lecture. after that i smoked a bit with foster till eleven o'clock, and then i went to the "northern whig" office to see that the report of my lecture was all right. it is the best paper here, and the editor had begged me to see to the report, and i was anxious myself that i should be rightly represented. so i sat there till a quarter past one having the report read and correcting it when necessary. then i came home and got to bed about two. i have just been to the section and read my paper there to a large audience who cannot have understood ten words of it, but who looked highly edified, and now i have done. our lodging has turned out admirably, and ball's company has been very pleasant. so that the fiasco of our arrangements was all for the best. [i take the account of this last-mentioned paper in section d from the report in "nature":-- professor huxley opened the last day of the session with an account of his recent observations on the development of the columella auris in amphibia. (he described it as an outgrowth of the periotic capsule, and therefore unconnected with any visceral arch.)... in the absence of mr. parker there was no one competent to criticise the paper from personal knowledge; but a word dropped as to the many changes in the accepted homologies of the ossicula auditus, elicited a masterly and characteristic exposition of the series of new facts, and the modifications of the theory they have led to, from reichert's first observations down to the present time. the embryonic structures grew and shaped themselves on the board, and shifted their relations in accordance with the views of successive observers, until a graphic epitome of the progress of knowledge on the subject was completed. he and parker indeed (to whom he signs himself, "ever yours amphibially") had been busy, not only throughout , but for several years earlier, examining the development of the amphibia, with a particular view to the whole theory of the vertebrate skull, for which he had done similar work in and . thus on may , , he writes to parker:--] i read all the most important part of your frog-paper last night, and a grand piece of work it is--more important, i think, in all its bearings than anything you have done yet. from which premisses i am going to draw a conclusion which you do not expect, namely, that the paper must by no manner of means go into the royal society in its present shape. and for the reasons following:-- in the first place, the style is ultra-parkerian. from a literary point of view, my dear friend, you remind me of nothing so much as a dog going home. he has a goal before him which he will certainly reach sooner or later, but first he is on this side the road, and now on that; anon, he stops to scratch at an ancient rat-hole, or maybe he catches sight of another dog, a quarter of a mile behind, and bolts off to have a friendly, or inimical sniff. in fact, his course is...(here a tangled maze is drawn) not --. in the second place, you must begin with an earlier stage...that is the logical starting-point of the whole affair. will you come and dine at on saturday, and talk over the whole business? if you have drawings of earlier stages you might bring them. i suspect that what is wanted might be supplied in plenty of time to get the paper in. [in he re-dissects the skull of axolotl to clear up the question as to the existence of the] "ventral head or pedicle" [which parker failed to observe:] "if you disbelieve in that pedicle again, i shall be guilty of an act of personal violence." [later,] "i am benevolent to all the world, being possessed of a dozen live axolotls and four or five big dead mesobranchs. moreover, i am going to get endless frogs and toads by judicious exchange with gunther. [dr. a.c.l.g. gunther, of the british museum, where he was appointed keeper of the department of zoology in .] we will work up the amphibia as they have not been done since they were crea-- i mean evolved." [the question of the pedicle comes up again when he simplifies some of parker's results as to the development of the columella auris in the frog.] "your suprahyomandibular is nothing but the pedicle of the suspensorium over again. it has nothing whatever to do with the columella auris...the whole thing will come out as simply as possible without any of your coalescences and combotherations. how you will hate me and the pedicle." [tracing the development of the columella was a long business, but it grew clearer as young frogs of various ages were examined.] "don't be aggravated with yourself," [he writes to parker in july,] "it's tough work, this here frog." [and on august :] "i have worked over toad and i have worked over frog, and i tell an obstinate man that s.h.m. [suprahyomandibular] is a figment--or a vessel, whichever said obstinate man pleases." [the same letter contains what he calls his final views on the columella, but by the end of the year he has gone further, and writes:--] be prepared to bust-up with all the envy of which your malignant nature is capable. the problem of the vertebrate skull is solved. fourteen segments or thereabouts in amphioxus; all but one (barring possibilities about the ear capsule) aborted in higher vertebrata. skull and brain of amphioxus shut up like an opera-hat in higher vertebrata. so! (sketch in illustration.) p.s.--i am sure you will understand the whole affair from this. probably published it already in "nature!" [a letter to the "times" of july , , on women's education, was evoked by the following circumstances. miss jex blake's difficulties in obtaining a medical education have already been referred to. a further discouragement was her rejection at the edinburgh examination. her papers, however, were referred to huxley, who decided that certain answers were not up to the standard.] as miss jex blake may possibly think that my decision was influenced by prejudice against her cause, allow me to add that such prejudice as i labour under lies in the opposite direction. without seeing any reason to believe that women are, on the average, so strong physically, intellectually, or morally, as men, i cannot shut my eyes to the fact that many women are much better endowed in all these respects than many men, and i am at a loss to understand on what grounds of justice or public policy a career which is open to the weakest and most foolish of the male sex should be forcibly closed to women of vigour and capacity. we have heard a great deal lately about the physical disabilities of women. some of these alleged impediments, no doubt, are really inherent in their organisation, but nine-tenths of them are artificial--the products of their modes of life. i believe that nothing would tend so effectually to get rid of these creations of idleness, weariness, and that "over-stimulation of the emotions" which, in plainer-spoken days, used to be called wantonness, than a fair share of healthy work, directed towards a definite object, combined with an equally fair share of healthy play, during the years of adolescence; and those who are best acquainted with the acquirements of an average medical practitioner will find it hardest to believe that the attempt to reach that standard is like to prove exhausting to an ordinarily intelligent and well-educated young woman. [the marine biological station at naples was still struggling for existence, and to my father's interest in it is do you the following letter, one of several to dr. dohrn, whose marriage took place this summer:--] marlborough place, june , . my dear dohrn, are you married yet or are you not? it is very awkward to congratulate a man upon what may not have happened to him, but i shall assume that you are a benedict, and send my own and my wife's and all the happy family's good wishes accordingly. may you have as good a wife and as much a "happy family" as i have, though i would advise you--the hardness of the times being considered--to be satisfied with fewer than seven members thereof. i hear excellent accounts of the progress of the station from lankester, and i hope that it is now set on its legs permanently. as for the english contribution, you must look upon it simply as the expression of the hearty goodwill of your many friends in the land of fogs, and of our strong feeling that where you had sacrificed so much for the cause of science, we were, as a matter of duty,--quite apart from goodwill to you personally--bound to do what we could, each according to his ability. darwin is, in all things, noble and generous--one of those people who think it a privilege to let him help. i know he was very pleased with what you said to him. he is working away at a new edition of the "descent of man," for which i have given him some notes on the brain question. and apropos of that, how is your own particular brain? i back la belle m-- against all the physicians in the world--even against mine own particular aesculapius, dr. clark--to find the sovereignest remedy against the blue devils. let me hear from you--most abominable of correspondents as i am. and why don't you send madame's photograph that you have promised? ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. pray give my kind remembrances to your father. marlborough place, march , . my dear darwin, the brain business is more than half done, and i will soon polish it off and send it to you. [a note on the brain in man and the apes for the second edition of the "descent of man."] we are going down to folkestone for a week on thursday, and i shall take it with me. i do not know what is doing about dohrn's business at present. foster took it in hand, but the last time i heard he was waiting for reports from dew and balfour. you have been very generous as always; and i hope that other folk may follow your example, but like yourself i am not sanguine. i have had an awfully tempting offer to go to yankee-land on a lecturing expedition, and i am seriously thinking of making an experiment next spring. the chance of clearing two or three thousand pounds in as many months is not to be sneezed at by a pere de famille. i am getting sick of the state of things here. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. i have heard no more about the spirit photographs! marlborough place, april , . my dear darwin, put my contribution into the smallest type possible, for it will be read by none but anatomists; and never mind where it goes. i am glad you agree with me about the hand and foot and skull question. as ward [w.g. ward.] said of mill's opinions, you can only account for the views of messrs. -- and co. on the supposition of "grave personal sin" on their part. i had a letter from dohrn a day or two ago in which he tells me he has written to you. i suspect he has been very ill. let us know when you are in town, and believe me, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the allusion in the letter of march to certain "spirit photographs" refers to a series of these wonderful productions sent to him by a connection of mr. darwin's, who was interested in these matters, and to whom he replied, showing how the effect might have been produced by simple mechanical means. it was at this gentleman's house that in january a carefully organised seance was held, at which my father was present incognito, so far as the medium was concerned, and on which he wrote the following report to mr. darwin, referred to in his "life," volume page . it must be noted that he had had fairly extensive experience of spiritualism; he had made regular experiments with mrs. haydon at his brother george's house (the paper on which these are recorded is undated, but it must have been before ); he was referred to as a disbeliever in an article in the "pall mall gazette" during january , as a sequel to which a correspondent sent him an account of the confessions of the fox girls, who had started spiritualism forty years before. at the houses of other friends, he had attended seances and met mediums by whom he was most unfavourably impressed. moreover, when invited to join a committee of investigation into spiritualistic manifestations, he replied:--] i regret that i am unable to accept the invitation of the committee of the dialectical society to cooperate with a committee for the investigation of "spiritualism"; and for two reasons. in the first place, i have not time for such an inquiry, which would involve much trouble and (unless it were unlike all inquiries of that kind i have known) much annoyance. in the second place, i take no interest in the subject. the only case of "spiritualism" i have had the opportunity of examining into for myself, was as gross an imposture as ever came under my notice. but supposing the phenomena to be genuine--they do not interest me. if anybody would endow me with the faculty of listening to the chatter of old women and curates in the nearest cathedral town, i should decline the privilege, having better things to do. and if the folk in the spiritual world do not talk more wisely and sensibly than their friends report them to do, i put them in the same category. the only good that i can see in the demonstration of the truth of "spiritualism" is to furnish an additional argument against suicide. better live a crossing-sweeper than die and be made to talk twaddle by a "medium" hired at a guinea a seance. [(quoted from a review in the "daily news," october , , of the report on spiritualism of the committee of the london dialectical society.) to the report above-mentioned, professor g. darwin, who also was present, added one or two notes and corrections.] report on seance. january , . we met in a small room at the top of the house with a window capable of being completely darkened by a shutter and curtains opposite the door. a small light table with two flaps and four legs, unsteady and easily moved, occupied the middle of the room, leaving not much more than enough space for the chairs at the sides. there was a chair at each end, two chairs on the fireplace side, and one on the other. mr. x (the medium) was seated in the chair at the door end, mr. y (the host) in the opposite chair, mr. g. darwin on the medium's right, mr. huxley on his left, mr. z between mr. huxley and mr. (darwin) y. the table was small enough to allow these five people to rest their hands on it, linking them together. on the table was a guitar which lay obliquely across it, an accordion on the medium's side of the guitar, a couple of paper horns, a japanese fan, a matchbox, and a candlestick with a candle. at first the room was slightly darkened (leaving plenty of light from the window, however) and we all sat round for half an hour. my right foot was against the medium's left foot, and two fingers of my right hand had a good grip of the little finger of his left hand. i compared my hand (which is not small and is strong) with his, and was edified by its much greater massiveness and strength. (no, we didn't link until the darkness. g.d.) g.d.'s left hand was, as i learn, linked with medium's right hand, and left foot on medium's (left) right foot.] we sat thus for half an hour as aforesaid and nothing happened. the room was next thoroughly darkened by shutting the shutters and drawing the curtains. nevertheless, by great good fortune i espied three points of light, coming from the lighted passage outside the door. one of these came beneath the door straight to my eye, the other two were on the wall (or on a press) obliquely opposite. by still greater good fortune, these three points of light had such a position in reference to my eye that they gave me three straight lines traversing and bounding the space in which the medium sat, and i at once saw that if medium moved his body forwards or backwards he must occult one of my three rays. while therefore taking care to feel his foot and keep a good grip of his hand, i fixed my eyes intently on rays a and b. for i felt sure that i could trust to g.d. keeping a sharp look-out on the right hand and foot; and so no instrument of motion was left to the medium but his body and head, the movements of which could not have been discernible in absolute darkness. nothing happened for some time. at length a very well executed muscular twitching of the arm on my side began, and i amused myself by comparing it with the convulsions of a galvanised frog's leg, but at the same time kept a very bright look-out on my two rays a and b. the twitchings ceased, and then after a little time a was shut out. b then became obscure, and a became visible. "hoho!" thought i, "medium's head is well over the table. now we are going to have some manifestations." immediately followed a noise obviously produced by the tumbling over of the accordion and some shifting of the position of the guitar. next came a twanging--very slight, but of course very audible--of some of the strings, during which b was invisible. by and by b and a became visible again, and medium's voice likewise showed that he had got back to his first position. but after he had returned to this position there was a noise of the guitar and other things on the table being stirred, and creeping noises like something light moving over the table. but no more actual twanging. to my great disgust, g.d. now began to remark that he saw two spots of light, which i suppose must have had the same origin as my rays a and b, and, moreover, that something occasionally occulted one or other of them. [note: no, not till we changed places. g.h.d.] i blessed him for spoiling my game, but the effect was excellent. nothing more happened. by and by, after some talk about these points of light, the medium suggested that this light was distracting, and that we had better shut it out. the suggestion was very dexterously and indirectly made, and was caught up more strongly [i think by mr. z). anyhow, we agreed to stop out all light. the circle was broken, and the candle was lighted for this purpose. i then took occasion to observe that the guitar was turned round into the position noted in the margin, the end being near my left hand. on examining it i found a longish end of one of the catgut strings loose, and i found that by sweeping this end over the strings i could make quite as good twangs as we heard. i could have done this just as well with my mouth as with my hand--and i could have pulled the guitar about by the end of the catgut in my mouth and so have disturbed the other things--as they were disturbed. before the candle was lighted some discussion arose as to why the spirits would not do any better (started by mr. y and mr. z, i think), in which the medium joined. it appeared that (in the opinion of the spirits as interpreted by the medium) we were not quite rightly placed. when the discussion arose i made a bet with myself that the result would be that either i or g.d. would have to change places with somebody else. and i won my wager (i have just paid it with the remarkably good cigar i am now smoking). g.d. had to come round to my side, mr. z went to the end, and mr. y took g.d.'s place. "good, medium," said i to myself. "now we shall see something." we were in pitch darkness, and all i could do was to bring my sense of touch to bear with extreme tension upon the medium's hand--still well in my grip. before long medium became a good deal convulsed at intervals, and soon a dragging sound was heard, and mr. y told us that the arm-chair (mark its position) had moved up against his leg, and was shoving against him. by degrees the arm-chair became importunate, and by the manner of mr. y's remarks it was clear that his attention was entirely given to its movements. then i felt the fingers of the medium's left hand become tense--in such a manner as to show that the muscles of the left arm were contracting sympathetically with those of the other arm, on which a considerable strain was evidently being put. mr. y's observations upon the eccentricities of the arm-chair became louder--a noise was heard as of the arm-chair descending on the table and shoving the guitar before it (while at the same time, or just before, there was a crash of a falling thermometer), and the tension of the left arm ceased. the chair had got on to the table. says the medium to mr. y, "your hand was against mine all the time." "well, no," replied mr. y, "not quite. for a moment as the chair was coming up i don't think it was." but it was agreed that this momentary separation made no difference. i said nothing, but, like the parrot, thought the more. after this nothing further happened. but conversation went on, and more than once the medium was careful to point out that the chair came upon the table while his hand was really in contact with mr. y's. g.d. will tell you if this is a fair statement of the facts. i believe it is, for my attention was on the stretch for those mortal two hours and a half, and i did not allow myself to be distracted from the main points in any way. my conclusion is that mr. x is a cheat and an imposter, and i have no more doubt that he got mr. y to sit on his right hand, knowing from the turn of his conversation that it would be easy to distract his attention, and that he then moved the chair against mr. y with his leg, and finally coolly lifted it on to the table, than that i am writing these lines. t.h. huxley. as mr. g. darwin wrote of the seance, "it has given me a lesson with respect to the worthlessness of evidence which i shall always remember, and besides will make me very diffident in trusting myself. unless i had seen it, i could not have believed in the evidence of any one with such perfect bona fides as mr. y being so worthless." [on receiving this report mr. darwin wrote ("life" page ):-- though the seance did tire you so much, it was, i think, really worth the exertion, as the same sort of things are done at all the seances...and now to my mind an enormous weight of evidence would be requisite to make me believe in anything beyond mere trickery. the following letter to mr. morley, then editor of the "fortnightly review," shows that my father was already thinking of writing upon hume, though he did not carry out this intention till . the article referred to in the second letter is that on animals as automata.] marlborough place, n.w., june , . my dear mr. morley, i assure you that it was a great disappointment to me not to be able to visit you, but we had an engagement of some standing for oxford. hume is frightfully tempting--i thought so only the other day when i saw the new edition advertised--and now i would gladly write about him in the "fortnightly" if i were only sure of being able to keep any engagement to that effect i might make. but i have yet a course of lectures before me, and an evening discourse to deliver at the british association--to say nothing of opening the manchester medical school in october--and polishing off a lot of scientific work. so you see i have not a chance of writing about hume for months to come, and you had much better not trust to such a very questionable reed as i am. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., november , . my dear morley, many thanks for your abundantly sufficient cheque--rather too much, i think, for an article which had been gutted by the newspapers. i am always very glad to have anything of mine in the "fortnightly," as it is sure to be in good company; but i am becoming as spoiled as a maiden with many wooers. however, as far as the "fortnightly" which is my old love, and the "contemporary" which is my new, are concerned, i hope to remain as constant as a persistent bigamist can be said to be. it will give me great pleasure to dine with you, and december will suit me excellently well. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the year winds up with a new year's greeting to professor haeckel.] marlborough place, n.w., december , . my dear haeckel, this must reach you in time to wish you and yours a happy new year in english fashion. may your shadow never be less, and may all your enemies, unbelieving dogs who resist the prophet of evolution, be defiled by the sitting of jackasses upon their grandmothers' graves! an oriental wish appropriate to an ex-traveller in egypt. i have written a notice of the "anthropogenie" for the academy, but i am so busy that i am afraid i should never have done it--but for being put into a great passion--by an article in the "quarterly review" for last july, which i read only a few days ago. my friend mr. --, to whom i had to administer a gentle punishment some time ago, has been at the same tricks again, but much worse than his former performance--you will see that i have dealt with him as you deal with a "pfaffe." [parson.] there are "halb-pfaffen" as well as "halb-affen." [lit. half-apes; the prosimiae and lemurs.] so if what i say about "anthropogenie" seems very little--to what i say about the "quarterly review"--do not be offended. it will all serve the good cause. i have been working very hard lately at the lower vertebrata, and getting out results which will interest you greatly. your suggestion that rathke's canals in amphioxus [the lancelet.] are the wolffian ducts was a capital shot, but it just missed the mark because rathke's canals do not exist. nevertheless there are two half canals, the dorsal walls of which meet in the raphe described by stieda, and the plaited lining of this wall (a) is, i believe, the renal organ. moreover, i have found the skull and brain of amphioxus, both of which are very large (like a vertebrate embryo's) instead of being rudimentary as we all have thought, and exhibit the primitive segmentation of the "urwirbelthier" skull. [primitive vertebrate.] thus the skull of petromyzon answers to about fourteen segments of the body of amphioxus, fused together and indistinguishable in even the earliest embryonic state of the higher vertebrata. does this take your breath away? well, in due time you shall be convinced. i sent in a brief notice to the last meeting of the royal society, which will soon be in your hands. i need not tell you of the importance of all this. it is unlucky for semper that he has just put amphioxus out of the vertebrata altogether--because it is demonstratable that amphioxus is nearer than could have been hoped to the condition of the primitive vertebrate--a far more regular and respectable sort of ancestor than even you suspected. for you see "acrania" will have to go. i think we must have an english translation of the "anthropogenie." there is great interest in these questions now, and your book is very readable, to say nothing of its higher qualities. my wife (who sends her kindest greetings) and i were charmed with the photograph. [as for our] publication in that direction, the seven volumes are growing into stately folios. you would not know them. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. how will you read this scrawl now that gegenbaur is gone? [in the article here referred to, a review of a book by professor g.h. darwin, a personal attack of an unjustifiable character was made upon him, and through him, upon charles darwin. the authorship of the review in question had come to be known, and huxley writes to his friend:--] i entirely sympathise with your feeling about the attack on george. if anybody tries that on with my boy l., the old wolf will show all the fangs he has left by that time, depend upon it... you ought to be like one of the blessed gods of elysium, and let the inferior deities do battle with the infernal powers. moreover, the severest and most effectual punishment for this sort of moral assassination is quietly to ignore the offender and give him the cold shoulder. he knows why he gets it, and society comes to know why, and though society is more or less of a dunderhead, it has honourable instincts, and the man in the cold finds no cloak that will cover him. chapter . . - . [in the year the bitter agitation directed against experimental physiology came to a head. it had existed in england for several years. in , when president of the british association, huxley had been violently attacked for speaking in defence of brown sequard, the french physiologist. the name of vivisection, indifferently applied to all experiments on animals, whether carried out by the use of the knife or not, had, as dr. (afterwards sir) william smith put it, the opposite effect on many minds to that of the "blessed word mesopotamia." misrepresentation was rife even among the most estimable and well-meaning of the opponents of vivisection, because they fancied they saw traces of the practice everywhere, all the more, perhaps, for not having sufficient technical knowledge for proper discrimination. one of the most flagrant instances of this kind of thing was a letter in the "record" charging huxley with advocating vivisections before children, if not by them. passages from the introduction to his "elementary physiology," urging that beginners should be shown the structures under discussion, examples for which could easily be provided from the domestic animals, were put side by side with later passages in the book, such, for instance, as statements of fact as to the behaviour of severed nerves under irritation. a sinister inference was drawn from this combination, and published as fact without further verification. of this he remarks emphatically in his address on "elementary instruction in physiology," ("collected essays" ):] it is, i hope, unnecessary for me to give a formal contradiction to the silly fiction, which is assiduously circulated by the fanatics who not only ought to know, but do know, that their assertions are untrue, that i have advocated the introduction of that experimental discipline which is absolutely indispensable to the professed physiologist, into elementary teaching. [moreover, during the debates on the vivisection bill in , the late lord shaftesbury made use of this story. huxley was extremely indignant, and wrote home:--] did you see lord shaftesbury's speech in tuesday's "times?" i saw it by chance, and have written a sharp letter to the "times." [(being in edinburgh, he had been reading the scotch papers, and] "the reports of the scotch papers as to what takes place in parliament are meagre.") [this letter appeared on may , when he wrote again:--] you will have had my note, and know all about lord shaftesbury and his lies by this time. surely you could not imagine on any authority that i was such an idiot as to recommend boys and girls to perform experiments which are difficult to skilled anatomists, to say nothing of other reasons. letter to the "times." in your account of the late debate in the house of lords on the vivisection bill, lord shaftesbury is reported to have said that in my "lessons in elementary physiology," it is strongly insisted that such experiments as those subjoined shall not merely be studied in the manual, but actually repeated, either by the boys and girls themselves or else by the teachers in their presence, as plainly appears from the preface to the second edition. i beg leave to give the most emphatic and unqualified contradiction to this assertion, for which there is not a shadow of justification either in the preface to the second edition of my "lessons" or in anything i have ever said or written elsewhere. the most important paragraph of the preface which is the subject of lord shaftesbury's misquotation and misrepresentation stands as follows:-- "for the purpose of acquiring a practical, though elementary, acquaintance with physiological anatomy and histology, the organs and tissues of the commonest domestic animals afford ample materials. the principal points in the structure and mechanism of the heart, the lungs, the kidneys, or the eye of man may be perfectly illustrated by the corresponding parts of a sheep; while the phenomena of the circulation, and many of the most important properties of living tissues are better shown by the common frog than by any of the higher animals." if lord shaftesbury had the slightest theoretical or practical acquaintance with the subject about which he is so anxious to legislate, he would know that physiological anatomy is not exactly the same thing as experimental physiology; and he would be aware that the recommendations of the paragraph i have quoted might be fully carried into effect without the performance of even a solitary "vivisection." the assertion that i have ever suggested or desired the introduction of vivisection into the teaching of elementary physiology in schools is, i repeat, contrary to fact. [on the next day (may ) appeared a reply from lord shaftesbury, in which his entire good faith is equally conspicuous with his misapprehension of the subject. lord shaftesbury's reply. the letter from professor huxley in the "times" of this morning demands an immediate reply. the object that i supposed the learned professor had in view was gathered from the prefaces to the several editions of his work on "elementary physiology." the preface to the first edition states that "the following lessons in elementary physiology are, primarily, intended to serve the purpose of a text-book for teachers and learners in boys' and girls' schools." it was published, therefore, as a manual for the young, as well as the old. now, any reader of the preface to the first edition would have come to the conclusion that teachers and learners could acquire something solid, and worth having, from the text-book before them. but the preface to the second edition nearly destroys that expectation. here is the passage:--"it will be well for those who attempt to study elementary physiology to bear in mind the important truth that the knowledge of science which is attainable by mere reading, though infinitely better than ignorance, is knowledge of a very different kind from that which arises from direct contact with fact." "direct contact with fact!" what can that mean (so, at least, very many ask) but a declaration, on high authority, to teachers and learners that vivisection alone can give them any real and effective instruction? but the subsequent passage is still stronger, for it states "that the worth of the pursuit of science, as an intellectual discipline, is almost lost by those who only seek it in books." is not language like this calculated to touch the zeal and vanity of teachers and learners at the very quick, and urge them to improve their minds and stand well in the eyes of the profession and the public by positive progress in experimental physiology? ordinary readers, most people would think, could come to no other conclusion. but a disclaimer from professor huxley is enough; i am sorry to have misunderstood him; and i must ask his pardon. i sincerely rejoice to have received such an assurance that his great name shall never be used for such a project as that which excited our fears. on this he wrote:--] you will have seen lord shaftesbury's reply to my letter. i thought it frank and straightforward, and i have written a private letter to the old boy of a placable and proper character. ["huxley, the professor, has written me a very civil, nay kind, letter. i replied in the same spirit." (lord shaftesbury, "life and work" june , .) in he had also had a small passage of arms with the late mr. w.e. forster, then vice-president of the council, upon the same subject. mr. forster was about to leave office, and when he gave his official authorisation for summer courses of lectures at south kensington on biology, chemistry, geology, etc., he did so with the special proviso that there be no vivisection experiments in any of the courses, and further, appended a memorandum, explaining the reasons on which he acted. now, although huxley was mentioned by name as having taken care to avoid inflicting pain in certain previous experiments which had come to mr. forster's knowledge, the memorandum evoked from him a strong protest to the lord president, to whom, as mr. forster expressly intimated, an appeal might properly be made. to begin with, the memorandum contained a mistake in fact, referring to his regular course at south kensington experiments which had taken place two years before at one of the courses to teachers. this course was non-official; huxley's position in it was simply that of a private person to whom the department offered a contract, subject to official control and criticism, so far as touched that course, and entirely apart from his regular position at the school of mines. the experiments of were performed, as he had reason to believe, with the full sanction of the department. if the board chose to go back upon what had happened two years before, he was of course subject to their criticism, but then he ought in justice to be allowed to explain in what these experiments really consisted. what they were appears from a note to sir j. donnelly:--] my dear donnelly, it will be the best course, perhaps, if i set down in writing what i have to say respecting the vivisections for physiological purposes which have been performed here, and concerning which you made me a communication from the vice-president of the council this morning. i have always felt it my duty to defend those physiologists who, like brown sequard, by making experiments on living animals, have added immensely not only to scientific physiology, but to the means of alleviating human suffering, against the often ignorant and sometimes malicious clamour which has been raised against them. but personally, indeed i may say constitutionally, the performance of experiments upon living and conscious animals is extremely disagreeable to me, and i have never followed any line of investigation in which such experiments are required. when the course of instruction in physiology here was commenced, the question of giving experimental demonstrations became a matter of anxious consideration with me. it was clear that, without such demonstrations, the subject could not be properly taught. it was no less clear from what had happened to me when, as president of the british association, i had defended brown sequard, that i might expect to meet with every description of abuse and misrepresentation if such demonstrations were given. it did not appear to me, however, that the latter consideration ought to weigh with me, and i took such a course as i believe is defensible against everything but misrepresentation. i gave strict instructions to the demonstrators who assisted me that no such experiments were to be performed, unless the animal were previously rendered insensible to pain either by destruction of the brain or by the administration of anaesthetics, and i have every reason to believe that my instructions were carried out. i do not see what i can do beyond this, or how i can give mr. forster any better guarantee than is given in my assurance that my dislike to the infliction of pain both as a matter of principle and of feeling is quite as strong as his own can be. if mr. forster is not satisfied with this assurance, and with its practical result that our experiments are made only on non-sentient animals, then i am afraid that my position as teacher of physiology must come to an end. if i am to act in that capacity i cannot consent to be prohibited from showing the circulation in a frog's foot because the frog is made slightly uncomfortable by being tied up for that purpose; nor from showing the fundamental properties of nerves, because extirpating the brain of the same animal inflicts one-thousandth part of the prolonged suffering which it undergoes when it makes its natural exit from the world by being slowly forced down the throat of a duck, and crushed and asphyxiated in that creature's stomach. i shall be very glad to wait upon mr. forster if he desires to see me. of course i am most anxious to meet his views as far as i can, consistently with my position as a person bound to teach properly any subject in which he undertakes to give instruction. but i am quite clear as to the amount of freedom of action which it is necessary i should retain, and if you will kindly communicate the contents of this letter to the vice-president of the council, he will be able to judge for himself how far his sense of what is right will leave me that freedom, or render it necessary for me to withdraw from what i should regard as a false position. [but there was a further and more vital question. he had already declared through major (now sir john) donnelly, that he would only undertake a course which involved no vivisection. further to require an official assurance that he would not do that which he had explicitly affirmed he did not intend to do, affected him personally, and he therefore declined the proposal made to him to give the course in question. it followed from the fact that experiments on animals formed no part of his official course, and from his refusal under the circumstances to undertake the non-official course, that his opinions and present practises in regard to the question of vivisection did not come under their lordships' jurisdiction, and he protested against the introduction of his name, and of the approbation or disapprobation of his views, into an official document relating to a matter with which he had nothing to do. in an intermediate paragraph of the same document, he could not resist asking for an official definition of vivisection as forbidden, in its relation to the experiments he had made to the class of teachers.] i should have to ask whether it means that the teacher who has undertaken to perform no "vivisection experiments" is thereby debarred from inflicting pain, however slight, in order to observe the action of living matter; for it might be said to be unworthy quibbling, if, having accepted the conditions of the minute, he thought himself at liberty to inflict any amount of pain, so long as he did not actually cut. but if such is the meaning officially attached to the word "vivisection," the teacher would be debarred from showing the circulation in a frog's foot or in a tadpole's tail; he must not show an animalcule, uncomfortably fixed under the microscope, nor prick his own finger for the sake of obtaining a drop of living blood. the living particles which float in that liquid undoubtedly feel as much (or as little) as a frog under the influence of anaesthetics, or deprived of its brain, does; and the teacher who shows his pupils the wonderful phenomena exhibited by dying blood, might be charged with gloating over the agonies of the colourless corpuscles, with quite as much justice as i have been charged with inciting boys and girls to cruelty by describing the results of physiological experiments, which they are as likely to attempt as they are to determine the longitude of their schoolroom. however, i will not trouble your lordship with any further indication of the difficulties which, as i imagine, will attend the attempt to carry the minute into operation, if instruction is to be given in physiology, or even in general biology. [the upshot of the matter was that the minute was altered so as to refer solely to future courses, and on february he wrote to mr. forster:--] i cannot allow you to leave office without troubling you with the expression of my thanks for the very great kindness and consideration which i have received from you on all occasions, and particularly in regard to the question of vivisection, on which i ventured to some extent, though i think not very widely or really, to differ from you. the modification which you were good enough to make in your minute removed all my objections to undertaking the summer course. and i am sure that if that course had happened to be a physiological one i could do all i want to do in the way of experiment, without infringing the spirit of your minute, though i confess that the letter of it would cause me more perplexity. [as to his general attitude to the subject, it must be noted, as said above in the letter to sir j. donnelly, that he never followed any line of research involving experiments on living and conscious animals. though, as will be seen from various letters, he considered such experiments justifiable, his personal feelings prevented him from performing them himself. like charles darwin, he was very fond of animals, and our pets in london found in him an indulgent master. but if he did not care to undertake such experiments personally, he held it false sentiment to blame others who did disagreeable work for the good of humanity, and false logic to allow pain to be inflicted in the cause of sport while forbidding it for the cause of science. (see his address on "instruction in elementary physiology" "collected essays" seq.) indeed, he declared that he trusted to the fox-hunting instincts of the house of commons rather than to any real interest in science in that body, for a moderate treatment of the question of vivisection. the subject is again dealt with in "the progress of science," ("collected essays" seq.) from which i may quote two sentences:--] the history of all branches of science proves that they must attain a considerable stage of development before they yield practical "fruits"; and this is eminently true of physiology. unless the fanaticism of philozoic sentiment overpowers the voice of humanity, and the love of dogs and cats supersedes that of one's neighbour, the progress of experimental physiology and pathology will, indubitably, in course of time, place medicine and hygiene upon a rational basis. [the dangers of prohibition by law are discussed in a letter to sir w. harcourt:--] you wish me to say what, in my opinion, would be the effect of the total suppression of experiments on living animals on the progress of physiological science in this country. i have no hesitation in replying that it would almost entirely arrest that progress. indeed, it is obvious that such an effect must follow the measure, for a man can no more develop a true conception of living action out of his inner consciousness than he can that of a camel. observation and experiment alone can give us a real foundation for any kind of natural knowledge, and any one who is acquainted with the history of science is aware that not a single one of all the great truths of modern physiology has been established otherwise than by experiment on living things. happily the abolition of physiological experiment in this country, should such a fatal legislative mistake ever be made, will be powerless to arrest the progress of science elsewhere. but we shall import our physiology as we do our hock and our claret from germany and france; those of our young physiologists and pathologists who can afford to travel will carry on their researches in paris and in berlin, where they will be under no restraint whatever, or it may be that the foreign laboratories will carry out the investigations devised here by the few persons who have the courage, in spite of all obstacles, to attempt to save british science from extinction. i doubt if such a result will contribute to the diminution of animal suffering. i am sure that it will do as much harm as anything can do to the english school of physiology, pathology, and pharmacology, and therefore to the progress of rational medicine. [another letter on the subject may be given, which was written to a student at a theological college, in reply to a request for his opinion on vivisection, which was to be discussed at the college debating society.] grand hotel, eastbourne, september , . dear sir, i am of the opinion that the practice of performing experiments on living animals is not only reconcilable with true humanity, but under certain circumstances is imperatively demanded by it. experiments on living animals are of two kinds. first, those which are made upon animals which, although living, are incapable of sensation, in consequence of the destruction or the paralysis of the sentient machinery. i am not aware that the propriety of performing experiments of this kind is seriously questioned, except in so far as they may involve some antecedent or subsequent suffering. of course those who deny that under any circumstances it can be right to inflict suffering on other sentient beings for our own good, must object to even this much of what they call cruelty. and when they prove their sincerity by leaving off animal food; by objecting to drive castrated horses, or indeed to employ animal labour at all; and by refusing to destroy rats, mice, fleas, bugs and other sentient vermin, they may expect sensible people to listen to them, and sincere people to think them other than sentimental hypocrites. as to experiments of the second kind, which do not admit of the paralysis of the sentient mechanism, and the performance of which involves severe prolonged suffering to the more sensitive among the higher animals, i should be sorry to make any sweeping assertion. i am aware of a strong personal dislike to them, which tends to warp my judgment, and i am prepared to make any allowance for those who, carried away by still more intense dislike, would utterly prohibit these experiments. but it has been my duty to give prolonged and careful attention to this subject, and putting natural sympathy aside, to try and get at the rights and wrongs of the business from a higher point of view, namely, that of humanity, which is often very different from that of emotional sentiment. i ask myself--suppose you knew that by inflicting prolonged pain on rabbits you could discover a way to the extirpation of leprosy, or consumption, or locomotor ataxy, or of suicidal melancholia among human beings, dare you refuse to inflict that pain? now i am quite unable to say that i dare. that sort of daring would seem to me to be extreme moral cowardice, to involve gross inconsistency. for the advantage and protection of society, we all agree to inflict pain upon man--pain of the most prolonged and acute character--in our prisons, and on our battlefields. if england were invaded, we should have no hesitation about inflicting the maximum of suffering upon our invaders for no other object than our own good. but if the good of society and of a nation is a sufficient plea for inflicting pain on men, i think it may suffice us for experimenting on rabbits or dogs. at the same time, i think that a heavy moral responsibility rests on those who perform experiments of the second kind. the wanton infliction of pain on man or beast is a crime; pity is that so many of those who (as i think rightly) hold this view, seem to forget that the criminality lies in the wantonness and not in the act of inflicting pain per se. i am, sir, yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [so far back as a committee had been appointed by the british association, and reported upon the conditions under which they considered experiments on living animals justifiable. in the early spring of a bill to regulate physiological research was introduced into the upper house by lord hartismere, but not proceeded with. when legislation seemed imminent huxley, in concert with other men of science, interested himself in drawing up a petition to parliament to direct opinion on the subject and provide a fair basis for future legislation, which indeed took shape immediately after in a bill introduced by dr. lyon playfair (afterwards lord playfair), messrs. walpole and ashley. this bill, though more just to science, did not satisfy many scientific men, and was withdrawn upon the appointment of a royal commission. the following letters to mr. darwin bear on this period:--] marlborough place, january , . my dear darwin, i quite agree with your letter about vivisection as a matter of right and justice in the first place, and secondly as the best method of taking the wind out of the enemy's sails. i will communicate with burdon sanderson and see what can be done. my reliance as against -- and her fanatical following is not in the wisdom and justice of the house of commons, but in the large number of fox-hunters therein. if physiological experimentation is put down by law, hunting, fishing, and shooting, against which a much better case can be made out, will soon follow. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. south kensington, april , . my dear darwin, the day before yesterday i met playfair at the club, and he told me that he had heard from miss elliott that _i_ was getting up what she called a "vivisector's bill," and that lord cardwell was very anxious to talk with some of us about the matter. so you see that there is no secret about our proceedings. i gave him a general idea of what was doing, and he quite confirmed what lubbock said about the impossibility of any action being taken in parliament this session. playfair said he should like very much to know what we proposed doing, and i should think it would be a good thing to take him into consultation. on my return i found that pfluger had sent me his memoir with a note such as he had sent to you. i read it last night, and i am inclined to think that it is a very important piece of work. he shows that frogs absolutely deprived of oxygen give off carbonic acid for twenty-five hours, and gives very strong reasons for believing that the evolution of carbonic acid by living matter in general is the result of a process of internal rearrangement of the molecules of the living matter, and not of direct oxidation. his speculations about the origin of living matter are the best i have seen yet, so far as i understand them. but he plunges into the depths of the higher chemistry in which i am by no means at home. only this i can see, that the paper is worth careful study. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. royal terrace, edinburgh, may , . my dear darwin, playfair has sent a copy of his bill to me, and i am sorry to find that its present wording is such as to render it very unacceptable to all teachers of physiology. in discussing the draught with litchfield i recollect that i insisted strongly on the necessity of allowing demonstrations to students, but i agreed that it would be sufficient to permit such demonstrations only as could be performed under anaesthetics. the second clause of the bill, however, by the words "for the purpose of new scientific discovery and for no other purpose," absolutely prohibits any kind of demonstration. it would debar me from showing the circulation in the web of a frog's foot or from exhibiting the pulsations of the heart in a decapitated frog. and by its secondary effect it would prohibit discovery. who is to be able to make discoveries unless he knows of his own knowledge what has been already made out? it might as well be ruled that a chemical student should begin with organic analysis. surely burdon sanderson did not see the draft of the bill as it now stands. the professors here are up in arms about it, and as the papers have associated my name with the bill i shall have to repudiate it publicly unless something can be done. but what in the world is to be done? i have not written to playfair yet, and shall wait to hear from you before i do. i have an excellent class here, odd, and like the work. best regards to mrs. darwin. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. royal terrace, edinburgh, june , . my dear darwin, i see i have forgotten to return playfair's letter, which i enclose. he sent me a copy of his last letter to you, but it did not reach me till some days after my return from london. in the meanwhile i saw him and lord cardwell at the house of commons on friday (last week). playfair seems rather disgusted at our pronunciamento against the bill, and he declares that both sanderson and sharpey assented to it. what they were dreaming about i cannot imagine. to say that no man shall experiment except for purpose of original discovery is about as reasonable as to ordain that no man shall swim unless he means to go from dover to calais. however the commission is to be issued, and it is everything to gain time and let the present madness subside a little. i vowed i would never be a member of another commission if i could help it, but i suppose i shall have to serve on this. i am very busy with my lectures, and am nearly half through. i shall not be sorry when they are over, as i have been grinding away now since last october. with kindest regards to mrs. darwin, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [he was duly asked to serve on the commission. though his lectures in edinburgh prevented him from attending till the end of july no difficulty was made over this, as the first meetings of the commission, which began on june , were to be devoted to taking the less controversial evidence. in accepting his nomination he wrote to mr. cross (afterwards lord cross), at that time home secretary:--] if i can be of any service i shall be very glad to act on the commission, sympathising as i do on the one hand with those who abhor cruelty to animals, and, on the other, with those who abhor the still greater cruelty to man which is involved in any attempt to arrest the progress of physiology and of rational medicine. [the other members of the commission were lords cardwell and winmarleigh, mr. w.e. forster, sir j.b. karslake, professor erichssen, and mr. r.h. hutton. the evidence given before the commission bore out the view that english physiologists inflicted no more pain upon animals than could be avoided; but one witness, not an englishman, and not having at that time a perfect command of the english language, made statements which appeared to the commission at least to indicate that the witness was indifferent to animal suffering. of this incident huxley writes to mr. darwin at the same time as he forwarded a formal invitation for him to appear as a witness before the commission:--] marlborough place, october , . my dear darwin, the inclosed tells its own story. i have done my best to prevent your being bothered, but for various reasons which will occur to you i did not like to appear too obstructive, and i was asked to write to you. the strong feeling of my colleagues (and my own i must say also) is that we ought to have your opinions in our minutes. at the same time there is a no less strong desire to trouble you as little as possible, and under no circumstances to cause you any risk of injury to health. what with occupation of time, worry and vexation, this horrid commission is playing the deuce with me. i have felt it my duty to act as counsel for science, and was well satisfied with the way things were going. but on thursday when i was absent at the council of the royal society -- was examined, and if what i hear is a correct account of the evidence he gave i may as well throw up my brief. i am told that he openly professed the most entire indifference to animal suffering, and said he only gave anaesthetics to keep animals quiet! i declare to you i did not believe the man lived who was such an unmitigated cynical brute as to profess and act upon such principles, and i would willingly agree to any law which would send him to the treadmill. the impression his evidence made on cardwell and forster is profound, and i am powerless (even if i had the desire which i have not) to combat it. he has done more mischief than all the fanatics put together. i am utterly disgusted with the whole business. ever yours, t.h. huxley. of course keep the little article on species. it is in some american encyclopaedia published by appleton. and best thanks for your book. i shall study it some day, and value it as i do every line you have written. don't mention what i have told you outside the circle of discreet darwindom. marlborough place, november , . my dear darwin, our secretary has telegraphed to you to down, and written to queen anne street. but to make sure, i send this note to say that we expect you at delahay street [where the commission was sitting.] at o'clock to-morrow. and that i have looked out the highest chair that was to be got for you. [mr. darwin was long in the leg. when he came to our house the biggest hassock was always placed in an arm-chair to give it the requisite height for him.] ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the commission reported early in , and a few months after lord carnarvon introduced a bill intituled "an act to amend the law relating to cruelty to animals." it was a more drastic measure than was demanded. as a writer in "nature" ( page ) puts it: "the evidence on the strength of which legislation was recommended went beyond the facts, the report went beyond the evidence, the recommendations beyond the report, and the bill can hardly be said to have gone beyond the recommendations, but rather to have contradicted them." as to the working of the law, huxley referred to it the following year in the address, already cited, on "elementary instruction in physiology" ("collected essays" ).] but while i should object to any experimentation which can justly be called painful, and while as a member of a late royal commission i did my best to prevent the infliction of needless pain for any purpose, i think it is my duty to take this opportunity of expressing my regret at a condition of the law which permits a boy to troll for pike or set lines with live frog bait for idle amusement, and at the same time lays the teacher of that boy open to the penalty of fine and imprisonment if he uses the same animal for the purpose of exhibiting one of the most beautiful and instructive of physiological spectacles--the circulation in the web of the foot. no one could undertake to affirm that a frog is not inconvenienced by being wrapped up in a wet rag and having his toes tied out, and it cannot be denied that inconvenience is a sort of pain. but you must not inflict the least pain on a vertebrated animal for scientific purposes (though you may do a good deal in that way for gain or for sport) without due licence of the secretary of state for the home department, granted under the authority of the vivisection act. so it comes about that, in this year of grace , two persons may be charged with cruelty to animals. one has impaled a frog, and suffered the creature to writhe about in that condition for hours; the other has pained the animal no more than one of us would be pained by tying strings round his fingers and keeping him in the position of a hydropathic patient. the first offender says, "i did it because i find fishing very amusing," and the magistrate bids him depart in peace--nay, probably wishes him good sport. the second pleads, "i wanted to impress a scientific truth with a distinctness attainable in no other way on the minds of my scholars," and the magistrate fines him five pounds. i cannot but think that this is an anomalous and not wholly creditable state of things. chapter . . - . [huxley only delivered one address outside his regular work in , on "some results of the 'challenger' expedition," given at the royal institution on january . for all through the summer he was away from london, engaged upon the summer course of lectures on natural history at edinburgh. this was due to the fact that professor (afterwards sir) wyville thomson was still absent on the "challenger" expedition, and professor victor carus, who had acted as his substitute before, was no longer available. under these circumstances the treasury granted huxley leave of absence from south kensington. his course began on may , and ended on july , and he thought it a considerable feat to deal with the whole animal kingdom in lectures. no doubt both he and his students worked at high pressure, especially when the latter came scantily prepared for the task, like the late joseph thomson, afterwards distinguished as an african traveller, who has left an account of his experience in this class. thomson's particular weak point was his greek, and the terminology of the lectures seems to have been a thorn in his side. this account, which actually tells of the course, occurs on pages and of his "life." the experience of studying personally under huxley was a privilege to which he had been looking forward with eager anticipation; for he had already been fascinated with the charm of huxley's writings, and had received from them no small amount of mental stimulus. nor were his expectations disappointed. but he found the work to be unexpectedly hard, and very soon he had the sense of panting to keep pace with the demands of the lecturer. it was not merely that the texture of scientific reasoning in the lectures was so closely knit,--although that was a very palpable fact,--but the character of huxley's terminology was entirely strange to him. it met him on his weakest side, for it presupposed a knowledge of greek (being little else than greek compounds with english terminations) and of greek he had none. huxley's usual lectures, he writes, are something awful to listen to. one half of the class, which numbers about four hundred, have given up in despair from sheer inability to follow him. the strain on the attention of each lecture is so great as to be equal to any ordinary day's work. i feel quite exhausted after them. and then to master his language is something dreadful. but, with all these drawbacks, i would not miss them, even if they were ten times as difficult. they are something glorious, sublime! again he writes:-- huxley is still very difficult to follow, and i have been four times in his lectures completely stuck and utterly helpless. but he has given us eight or nine beautiful lectures on the frog...if you only heard a few of the lectures you would be surprised to find that there were so few missing links in the chain of life, from the amoeba to the genus homo. it was a large class, ultimately reaching and breaking the record of the edinburgh classes without having recourse to the factitious assistance proposed in the letter of may . his inaugural lecture was delivered under what ought to have been rather trying circumstances. on the way from london he stopped a night with his old friends, john bruce and his wife (one of the fannings), at their home, barmoor castle, near beal. he had to leave at next morning, reaching edinburgh at , and lecturing at .] "nothing," [he writes,] "could be much worse, but i am going through it with all the cheerfulness of a christian martyr." [on may he writes to his wife from the bruce's edinburgh house, which they had lent him.] i know that you will be dying to hear how my lecture went off to-day--so i sit down to send you a line, though you did hear from me to-day. the theatre was crammed. i am told there were auditors, and i could not have wished for more thorough attention. but i had to lecture in gown and doctor's hood and the heat was awful. the principal and the chief professors were present, and altogether it was a state affair. i was in great force, although i did get up at six this morning and travelled all the way from barmoor. but i won't do that sort of thing again, it's tempting providence. may . fanny and her sisters and the governess flit to barmoor to-day and i shall be alone in my glory. i shall be very comfortable and well cared for, so make your mind easy, and if i fall ill i am to send for clark. he expressly told me to do so as i left him! i gave my second lecture yesterday to an audience filling the theatre. the reason of this is that everybody who likes--comes for the first week and then only those who have tickets are admitted. how many will become regular students i don't know yet, but there is promise of a big class. the lord send three extra--to make up for...[(a sudden claim upon his purse before he left home.) and he writes of this custom to professor baynes on june :--] my class is over and i find some good working material among them. parsons mustered strong in the first week, but i fear they came to curse and didn't remain to pay. [he was still lord rector of aberdeen university, and on may writes how he attended a business meeting there:--] i have had my run to aberdeen and back--got up at , started from edinburgh at . , attended the meeting of the court at . then drove out with webster to edgehill in a great storm of rain and was received with their usual kindness. i did not get back till near o'clock last night and, thanks to "the virginians" and a good deal of virginia, i passed the time pleasantly enough...there are tickets gone up to this date, so i suppose i may expect a class of men. x = . hooray. to his eldest daughter:--] edinburgh, may , . my dearest jess, your mother's letter received this morning reminds me that i have not written to "cordelia" (i suppose she means goneril) by a message from that young person--so here is reparation. i have students, and my class is the biggest in the university--but i am quite cast down and discontented because it is not ,--being one more than the botany class last year--which was never so big before or since. i am thinking of paying street boys to come and take the extra tickets so that i may crow over all my colleagues. fanny bruce is going to town next week to her grandmother's and i want you girls to make friends with her. it seems to me that she is very nice--but that is only a fallible man's judgment, and heaven forbid that i should attempt to forestall miss cudberry's decision on such a question. anyhow she has plenty of energy and, among other things, works very hard at german. m-- says that the roottle-tootles have a bigger drawing-room than ours. i should be sorry to believe these young beginners guilty of so much presumption, and perhaps you will tell them to have it made smaller before i visit them. a scotch gentleman has just been telling me that may is the worst month in the year, here; so pleasant! but the air is soft and warm to-day, and i look out over the foliage to the castle and don't care. love to all, and specially m--. mind you don't tell her that i dine out to-day and to-morrow--positively for the first and last times. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [however, the class grew without such adventitious aid, and he writes to mr. herbert spencer on june :--] ...i have a class of , and instruct them in dry facts--particularly warning them to keep free of the infidel speculations which are current under the name of evolution. i expect an "examiner's call" from a presbytery before the course is over, but i am afraid that the pay is not enough to induce me to forsake my "larger sphere of influence" in london. [in the same letter he speaks of a flying visit to town which he was about to make on the following thursday, returning on the saturday for lack of a good sunday train:--] may hap i may chance to see you at the club--but i shall be torn to pieces with things to do during my two days' stay. if moses had not existed i should have had three days in town, which is a curious concatenation of circumstances. [as for health during this period, it maintained, on the whole, a satisfactory level, thanks to the regime of which he writes to professor baynes:--] i am very sorry to hear that you have been so seriously ill. you will have to take to my way of living--a mutton chop a day and no grog, but much baccy. don't begin to pick up your threads too fast. no wonder you are uneasy if you have crabs on your conscience. [i.e. an article for the "encyclopaedia britannica."] thank heaven they are not on mine! i am glad to hear you are getting better, and i sincerely trust that you may find all the good you seek in the baths. as to coming back a "new man," who knows what that might be? let us rather hope for the old man in a state of complete repair--a copper bottomed. excuse my nautical language. [the following letters also touch on his edinburgh lectures:--] cragside, morpeth, august , . my dear foster, we are staying here with sir w. armstrong--the whole brood--miss matthaei and the majority of the chickens being camped at a farm-house belonging to our host about three miles off. it is wetter than it need be, otherwise we are very jolly. i finished off my work in edinburgh on the rd and positively polished off the animal kingdom in lectures. french without a master in twelve lessons is nothing to this feat. the men worked very well on the whole, and sent in some creditable examination papers. i stayed a few days to finish up the abstracts of my lectures for the "medical times"; then picked up the two elder girls who were at barmoor and brought them on here to join the wife and the rest. how is it that dohrn has been and gone? i have been meditating a letter to him for an age. he wanted to see me, and i did not know how to manage to bring about a meeting. edinburgh is greatly exercised in its mind about the vivisection business and "vagus" "swells wisibly" whenever the subject is mentioned. i think there is an inclination to regard those who are ready to consent to legislation of any kind as traitors, or at any rate, trimmers. it sickens me to reflect on the quantity of time and worry i shall have to give to that subject when i get back. i see that -- has been blowing the trumpet at the medical association. he has about as much tact as a flyblown bull. i have just had a long letter from wyville thomson. the "challenger" inclines to think that bathybius is a mineral precipitate! in which case some enemy will probably say that it is a product of my precipitation. so mind, i was the first to make that "goak." old ehrenberg suggested something of the kind to me, but i have not his letter here. i shall eat my leek handsomely, if any eating has to be done. they have found pseudopodia in globerigina. with all good wishes from ours to yours. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. cragside, morpeth, august , . my dear tyndall, i find that in the midst of my work in edinburgh i omitted to write to de vrij, so i have just sent him a letter expressing my pleasure in being able to co-operate in any plan for doing honour to old benedict [spinoza, a memorial to whom was being raised in holland.], for whom i have a most especial respect. i am not sure that i won't write something about him to stir up the philistines. my work at edinburgh got itself done very satisfactorily, and i cleared about pounds by the transaction, being one of the few examples known of a southron coming north and pillaging the scots. however, i was not sorry when it was all over, as i had been hard at work since october and began to get tired. the wife and babies from the south, and i from the north, met here a fortnight ago and we have been idling very pleasantly ever since. the place is very pretty and our host kindness itself. miss matthaei and five of the bairns are at cartington--a moorland farmhouse three miles off--and in point of rosy cheeks and appetites might compete with any five children of their age and weight. jess and mady are here with us and have been doing great execution at a ball at newcastle. i really don't know myself when i look at these young women, and my hatred of possible sons-in-law is deadly. all send their love. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. wish you joy of bristol. [the following letter to darwin was written when the polar expedition under sir george nares was in preparation. it illustrates the range of observation which his friends had learned to expect in him:--] athenaeum club, january , . my dear darwin, i write on behalf of the polar committee of the royal society to ask for any suggestions you may be inclined to offer us as instructions to the naturalists who are to accompany the new expedition. the task of drawing up detailed instructions is divided among a lot of us; but you are as full of ideas as an egg is full of meat, and are shrewdly suspected of having, somewhere in your capacious cranium, a store of notions which would be of great value to the naturalists. all i can say is, that if you have not already "collated facts" on this topic, it will be the first subject i ever suggested to you on which you had not. of course we do not expect you to put yourself to any great trouble--nor ask for such a thing--but if you will jot down any notes that occur to you we shall be thankful. we must have everything in hand for printing by march . ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letter dates from soon after the death of charles kingsley:--] science schools, south kensington, october , . dear miss kingsley, i sincerely trust that you believe i have been abroad and prostrated by illness, and have thereby accounted for receiving no reply to your letter of a fortnight back. the fact is that it has only just reached me, owing to the neglect of the people in jermyn street, who ought to have sent it on here. i assure you i have not forgotten the brief interview to which you refer, and i have often regretted that the hurry and worry of life (which increases with the square of your distance from youth) never allowed me to take advantage of your kind father's invitation to become better acquainted with him and his. i found his card in jermyn street when i returned last year, with a pencilled request that i would call on him at westminster. i meant to do so, but the whirl of things delayed me until, as i bitterly regret, it was too late. i am not sure that i have any important letter of your father's but one, written to me some fifteen years ago, on the occasion of the death of a child who was then my only son. it was in reply to a letter of my own written in a humour of savage grief. most likely he burned the letter, and his reply would be hardly intelligible without it. moreover, i am not at all sure that i can lay my hands upon your father's letter in a certain chaos of papers which i have never had the courage to face for years. but if you wish i will try. i am very grieved to hear of mrs. kingsley's indisposition. pray make my kindest remembrances to her, and believe me your very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--by the way, letters addressed to my private residence, marlborough place, n.w., are sure not to be delayed. and i have another reason for giving the address--the hope that when you come to town you will let my wife and daughters make your acquaintance. [his continued interest in the germ-theory and the question of the origin of life ("address at the british association" see page , sq.), appears from the following:--] marlborough place, october , . my dear tyndall, will you bring with you to the x to-morrow a little bottle full of fluid containing the bacteria you have found developed in your infusions? i mean a good characteristic specimen. it will be useful to you, i think, if i determine the forms with my own microscope, and make drawings of them which you can use. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i can't tell you how delighted i was with the experiments. [throughout this period, and for some time later, he was in frequent communication with thomas spencer baynes, professor of logic and english literature at st. andrews university, the editor of the new "encyclopaedia britannica," work upon which was begun at the end of . from the first huxley was an active helper, both in classifying the biological subjects which ought to be treated of, suggesting the right men to undertake the work, and himself writing several articles, notably that on evolution. (others were "actinozoa," "amphibia," "animal kingdom," and "biology.") extracts from his letters to professor baynes between the years and , serve to illustrate the work which he did and the relations he maintained with the genial and learned editor.] november , . i have been spending my sunday morning in drawing up a list of headings, which will i think exhaust biology from the animal point of view, and each of which does not involve more than you are likely to get from one man. in many cases, i.e. "insecta," "entomology," i have subdivided the subjects, because, by an unlucky peculiarity of workers in these subjects, men who understand zoology from its systematic side are often ignorant of anatomy, and those who know fossils are often weak in recent forms. but of course the subdivision does not imply that one man should not take the whole if he is competent to do so. and if separate contributors supply articles on these several subdivisions, somebody must see that they work in harmony. [but with all the good will in the world, he was too hard pressed to get his quota done as quickly as he wished. he suggests at once that "hydrozoa" and "actinozoa," in his list, should be dealt with by the writer of the article "coelenterata."] shunting "actinozoa" to "coelenterata" would do no harm, and would have the great merit of letting me breathe a little. but if you think better that "actinozoa" should come in its place under a, i will try what i can do. december , . as to "anthropology," i really am afraid to promise. at present i am plunged in "amphibia," doing a lot of original work to settle questions which have been hanging vaguely in my mind for years. if "amphibia" is done by the end of january it is as much as it will be. in february i must give myself--or at any rate my spare self--up to my rectorial address [his rectorial address at aberdeen, see above.], which (tell it not in gath) i wish at the bottom of the red sea. and i do not suppose i shall be able to look seriously at either "animal kingdom" or "anthropology" before the address is done with. and all depends on the centre of my microcosm--intestinum colon--which plays me a trick every now and then. i will do what i can if you like, but if you trust me it is at your proper peril. february , . how astonished folks will be if eloquent passages out of the address get among the "amphibia," and comments on frog anatomy into the address. as i am working at both just now this result is not improbable. [meanwhile the address and the ten days' stay at aberdeen had been] "playing havoc with the "amphibia," [but on returning home, he went to work upon the latter, and writes on march :--] i did not care to answer your last letter until i had an instalment of "amphibia" ready. said instalment was sent off to you, care of messrs. black, yesterday, and now i feel like dick swiveller, when happy circumstances having enabled him to pay off an old score he was able to begin running up another. june . i have had sundry proofs and returned them. my writing is lamentable when i am in a hurry, but i never provoked a strike before! i declare i think i write as well as the editor, on ordinary occasions. [he was pleased to find someone who wrote as badly as, or worse than, himself, and several times rallies baynes on that score. thus, when mrs. baynes had acted as her husband's amanuensis, he writes (february , ):--] my respectful compliments to the "mere machine," whose beautiful calligraphy (if that isn't a tautology) leaves no doubt in my mind that whether the writing of your letters by that agency is good for you or not it is admirable for your correspondents. why people can't write a plain legible hand i can't imagine. [(nb.--this sentence is written purposely in a most illegible hand.) and on another occasion he adds a postcript to say,] "you write worse than ever. so do i." [however, the article got finished in course of time:--] august . i have seen and done with all "amphibia" but the last sheet, and that only waits revise. considering it was to be done in may, i think i am pretty punctual. [the next year, immediately before taking sir wyville thomson's lectures at edinburgh, he writes about another article which he had in hand:--] marlborough place, n.w., march , . my dear baynes, i am working against time to get a lot of things done--amongst others biology--before i go north. i have written a large part of said article, and it would facilitate my operation immensely if what is done were set up and i had two or three proofs, one for dyer, who is to do part of the article. now, if i send the manuscript to north bridge will you swear by your gods ( -- -- -- or any greater number as the case may be) that i shall have a proof swiftly and not be kept waiting for weeks till the whole thing has got cold, and i am at something else a hundred miles away from biology? if not i will keep the manuscript till it is all done, and you know what that means. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. cragside, morpeth, august , . my dear baynes, the remainder of the proof of "biology" is posted to-day--"praise de lor'." i have a dim recollection of having been led by your soft and insinuating ways to say that i would think (only think) about some other article. what the deuce was it? i have told the royal society people to send you a list of fellows, addressed to black's. we have had here what may be called bad weather for england, but it has been far better than the best edinburgh weather known to my experience. all my friends are out committing grouse-murder. as a vivisection commissioner i did not think i could properly accompany them. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. cragside, morpeth, august , . my dear baynes, i think -- is like enough to do the "coelenterata" well if you can make sure of his doing it at all. he is a man of really great knowledge of the literature of zoology, and if it had not been for the accident of being a procrastinating impracticable ass, he could have been a distinguished man. but he is a sort of balaam-centaur with the asinine stronger than the prophetic moiety. i should be disposed to try him, nevertheless. i don't think i have had final revise of biology yet. i do not know that "coelenterata" is lankester's speciality. however, he is sure to do it well if he takes it up. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., october , . my dear baynes, do you remember my telling you that i should before long be publishing a book, of which general considerations on biology would form a part, and that i should have to go over the same ground as in the article for the encyclopaedia? well, that prediction is about to be verified, and i want to know what i am to do. you see, as i am neither dealing with theology, nor history, nor criticism, i can't take a fresh departure and say something entirely different from what i have just written. on the other hand, if i republish what stands in the article, the encyclopaedia very naturally growls. what do the sweetest of editors and the most liberal of proprietors say ought to be done under the circumstances? i pause for a reply. i have carried about stanley's note in my pocket-book until i am sorry to say the flyleaf has become hideously stained. [the dean's handwriting was proverbial.] the wife and daughters could make nothing of it, but i, accustomed to the manuscript of certain correspondents, have no doubt as to the fourth word of the second sentence. it is "canterbury." [the writing of this word is carefully slurred until it is almost as illegible as the original.] nothing can be plainer. hoping the solution is entirely satisfactory, believe me, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [though he refused to undertake the article on "distribution," he managed to write that on "evolution" (republished in "collected essays" ). thus on july , , he writes:--] _i_ ought to do "evolution," but i mightn't and i shouldn't. don't see how it is practicable to do justice to it with the time at my disposal, though i really should like to do it, and i am at my wits' end to think of anybody who can be trusted with it. perhaps something may turn up, and if so i will let you know. [the something in the world of more time did turn up by dint of extra pressure, and the article got written in the course of the autumn, as appears from the following of december , :--] i send you the promised skeleton (with a good deal of the flesh) of evolution. it is costing me infinite labour in the way of reading, but i am glad to be obliged to do the work, which will be a curious and instructive chapter in the history of science. [the lawyer-like faculty of putting aside a subject when done with, which is indicated in the letter of march , , reappears in the following:--] marlborough place, n.w., march , . my dear baynes, your printers are the worst species of that diabolic genus i know of. it is at least a month since i sent them a revise of "evolution" by no means finished, and from that time to this i have had nothing from them. i shall forget all about the subject, and then at the last moment they will send me a revise in a great hurry, and expect it back by return of post. but if they get it, may i go to their father! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [later on, the pressure of work again forbade him to undertake further articles on "harvey," "hunter," and "instinct."] i am sorry to say that my hands are full, and i have sworn by as many gods as hume has left me, to undertake nothing more for a long while beyond what i am already pledged to do, a small book anent harvey being one of these things. [and on june :--] after nine days' meditation (directed exclusively to the harvey and hunter question) i am not any "forrarder," as the farmer said after his third bottle of gladstone claret. so perhaps i had better mention the fact. i am very glad you have limed flower for "mammalia" and "horse"--nobody could be better. marlborough place, n.w., july , . my dear baynes, on thursday last i sought for you at the athenaeum in the middle of the day, and told them to let me know if you came in the evening when i was there again. but i doubt not you were plunged in dissipation. my demonstrator parker showed me to-day a letter he had received from black's, asking him to do anything in the small zoology way between h and l. he is a modest man, and so didn't ask what the h--l he was to do, but he looked it. will you enlighten him or me, and i will convey the information on? i had another daughter married yesterday. she was a great pet and it is very hard lines on father and mother. the only consolation is that she has married a right good fellow, john collier the artist. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. july , . many thanks for your and mrs. baynes' congratulations. i am very well content with my son-in-law, and have almost forgiven him for carrying off one of my pets, which shows a christian spirit hardly to be expected of me. south kensington, july , . my dear baynes, i have been thinking over the matter of instinct, and have come to the conclusion that i dare not undertake anything fresh. there is an address at birmingham in the autumn looming large, and ghosts of unfinished work flitter threateningly. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the year was again a busy one, almost as busy as any that went before. as in , his london work was cut in two by a course of lectures in edinburgh, and sittings of the royal commission on scottish universities, and furthermore, by a trip to america in his summer vacation. in the winter and early spring he gave his usual lectures at south kensington; a course to working men "on the evidence as to the origin of existing vertebrated animals," from february to april ("nature" volumes and ); a lecture at the royal institution (january ) "on the border territory between the animal and vegetable kingdoms" ("collected essays" ); and another at glasgow (february ) "on the teleology and morphology of the hand." in this lecture, which he never found time to get into final shape for publication, but which was substantially repeated at the working men's college in , he touched upon one of the philosophic aspects of the theory of evolution, namely, how far is it consistent with the argument from design? granting provisionally the force of paley's argument in individual cases of adaptation, and illustrating it by the hand and its representative in various of the mammalia, he proceeds to show by the facts of morphology that the argument, as commonly stated, fails; that each mechanism, each animal, was not specially made to suit the particular purpose we find it serving, but was developed from a single common type. yet in a limited and special sense he finds teleology to be not inconsistent with morphology. the two sets of facts flow from a common cause, evolution. descent by modification accounts for similarity of structure; the process of gradual adaptation to conditions accounts for the existing adaptation to purpose. to be a teleologist and yet accept evolution it is only necessary] "to suppose that the original plan was sketched out--that the purpose was foreshadowed in the molecular arrangements out of which the animals have come." [this was no new view of his. while, ever since his first review of the "origin" in ("collected essays" ), he had declared the commoner and coarser forms of teleology to find their most formidable opponent in the theory of evolution, and in , addressing the geological society, had spoken of] "those final causes, which have been named barren virgins, but which might be more fitly termed the hetairae of philosophy, so constantly have they led men astray" [(ib. ; cp. , ), he had, in his "criticism of the origin" ( ), and the "genealogy of animals" ( sqq.), shown how] "perhaps the most remarkable service to the philosophy of biology rendered by mr. darwin is the reconciliation of teleology and morphology, and the explanation of the facts of both which his views offer...the wider teleology, which is actually based upon the fundamental proposition of evolution." [his notebook shows that he was busy with reptilia from elgin and from india; and with his "manual of invertebrate anatomy," which was published the next year; while he refused to undertake a course of ten lectures at the royal institution, saying that he had already too much other work to do, and would have no time for original work. about this time, also, in answer to a request from a believer in miracles,] "that those who fail to perceive the cogency of the evidence by which the occurrence of miracles is supported, should not confine themselves to the discussion of general principles, but should grapple with some particular case of an alleged miracle," [he read before the metaphysical society a paper dealing with the evidence for the miracle of the resurrection. (see volume .) some friends wished him to publish the paper as a contribution to criticism; but his own doubts as to the opportuneness of so doing were confirmed by a letter from mr. john morley, then editor of the "fortnightly review," to which he replied (january ):--] to say truth, most of the considerations you put so forcibly had passed through my mind--but one always suspects oneself of cowardice when one's own interests may be affected. [at the beginning of may he went to edinburgh. he writes home on may :--] i am in hopes of being left to myself this time, as nobody has called but sir alexander grant the principal, crum brown, whom i met in the street just now, and lister, who has a patient in the house. i have been getting through an enormous quantity of reading, some tough monographs that i brought with me, the first volume of forster's "life of swift," "goodsir's life," and a couple of novels of george sand, with a trifle of paul heyse. you should read george sand's "cesarine dietrich" and "la mare au diable" that i have just finished. she is bigger than george eliot, more flexible, a more thorough artist. it is a queer thing, by the way, that i have never read "consuelo." i shall get it here. when i come back from my lecture i like to rest for an hour or two over a good story. it freshens me wonderfully. [however, social edinburgh did not leave him long to himself, but though he might thus lose something of working time, this loss was counterbalanced by the dispelling of some of the fits of depression which still assailed him from time to time. on may he writes:--] the general assembly is sitting now, and i thought i would look in. it was very crowded and i had to stand, so i was soon spied out and invited to sit beside the lord high commissioner, who represents the crown in the assembly, and there i heard an ecclesiastical row about whether a certain church should be allowed to have a cover with ihs on the communion table or not. after three hours' discussion the ihsers were beaten. i was introduced to the commissioner lord galloway, and asked to dine to-night. so i felt bound to go to the special levee at holyrood with my colleagues this morning, and i shall have to go to my lady galloway's reception in honour of the queen's birthday to-morrow. luckily there will be no more of it. vanity of vanities! saturday afternoon i go out to lord young's place to spend sunday. i have been in rather a hypochondriacal state of mind, and i will see if this course of medicine will drive the seven devils out. [one of the chief friendships which sprang from this residence in edinburgh was that with dr. (afterwards sir john) skelton, widely known under his literary pseudonym of "shirley." a civil servant as well as a man of letters, he united practical life with literature, a combination that appealed particularly to huxley, so that he was a constant visitor at dr. skelton's picturesque house, the hermitage of braid, near edinburgh. a number of letters addressed to skelton from to show that with him huxley felt the stimulus of an appreciative correspondent.] melville street, edinburgh, june , . my dear skelton, i do not understand how it is that your note has been so long in reaching me; but i hasten to repel the libellous insinuation that i have vowed a vow against dining at the hermitage. i wish i could support that repudiation by at once accepting your invitation for saturday or sunday, but my saturdays and sundays are mortgaged to one or other of your judges (good judges, obviously). shall you be at home on monday or tuesday? if so, i would put on a kilt (to be as little dressed as possible), and find my way out and back; happily improving my mind on the journey with the tracts you mention. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. melville street, edinburgh, july , . my dear skelton, very many thanks for the copy of the "comedy of the noctes," which reached me two or three days ago. turning over the pages i came upon the shepherd's "terrible journey of timbuctoo," which i enjoyed as much as when i first read it thirty odd years ago. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on june he writes home:--] did you read gilman's note asking me to give the inaugural discourse at the johns hopkins university, and offering pounds sterling on the part of the trustees? i am minded to do it on our way back from the south, but don't much like taking money for the performance. tell me what you think about this at once, as i must reply. [this visit to america had been under discussion for some time. it is mentioned as a possibility in a letter to darwin two years before. early in mr. frederic harrison was commissioned by an american correspondent--who, by the way, had named his son thomas huxley--to give my father the following message:--"the whole nation is electrified by the announcement that professor huxley is to visit us next fall. we will make infinitely more of him than we did of the prince of wales and his retinue of lords and dukes." certainly the people of the states gave him an enthusiastic welcome; his writings had made him known far and wide; as the manager of the californian department at the philadelphia exhibition told him, the very miners of california read his books over their camp fires; and his visit was so far like a royal progress, that unless he entered a city disguised under the name of jones or smith, he was liable not merely to be interviewed, but to be called upon to "address a few words" to the citizens. leaving their family under the hospitable care of sir w. and lady armstrong at cragside, my father and mother started on july on board the "germanic," reaching new york on august . my father sometimes would refer, half-jestingly, to the trip as his second honeymoon, when, for the first time in twenty years, he and my mother set forth by themselves, free from all family cares. and indeed, there was the underlying resemblance that this too came at the end of a period of struggle to attain, and marked the beginning of a more settled period. his reception in america may be said to emphasise his definite establishment in the first rank of english thinkers. it was a signal testimony to the wide extent of his influence, hardly suspected, indeed, by himself; an influence due above all to the fact that he did not allow his studies to stand apart from the moving problems of existence, but brought the new and regenerating ideas into contact with life at every point, and that his championship of the new doctrines had at the same time been a championship of freedom and sincerity in thought and word against shams and self-deceptions of every kind. it was not so much the preacher of new doctrines who was welcomed, as the apostle of veracity--not so much the student of science as the teacher of men. moreover, another sentiment coloured this holiday visit. he was to see again the beloved sister of his boyhood. she had always prophesied his success, and now after thirty years her prophesy was fulfilled by his coming, and, indeed, exceeded by the manner of it. mr. smalley, then london correspondent of the "new york tribune," was a fellow passenger of his on board the "germanic," and tells an interesting anecdote of him:-- mr. huxley stood on the deck of the "germanic" as she steamed up the harbour of new york, and he enjoyed to the full that marvellous panorama. at all times he was on intimate terms with nature and also with the joint work of nature and man; man's place in nature being to him interesting from more points of view than one. as we drew near the city--this was in , you will remember--he asked what were the tall tower and tall building with a cupola, then the two most conspicuous objects. i told him the tribune and the western union telegraph buildings. "ah," he said, "that is interesting; that is american. in the old world the first things you see as you approach a great city are steeples; here you see, first, centres of intelligence." next to those the tug-boats seemed to attract him as they tore fiercely up and down and across the bay. he looked long at them and finally said,] "if i were not a man i think i should like to be a tug." [they seemed to him the condensation and complete expression of the energy and force in which he delighted. the personal welcome he received from the friends he visited was of the warmest. on the arrival of the "germanic" the travellers were met by mr. appleton the publisher, and carried off to his country house at riverdale. while his wife was taken to saratoga to see what an american summer resort was like, he himself went on the th to new haven, to inspect the fossils at yale college, collected from the tertiary deposits of the far west by professor marsh, with great labour and sometimes at the risk of his scalp. professor marsh told me how he took him to the university, and proposed to begin by showing him over the buildings. he refused.] "show me what you have got inside them; i can see plenty of bricks and mortar in my own country." [so they went straight to the fossils, and as professor marsh writes ("american journal of science" volume august .):-- one of huxley's lectures in new york was to be on the genealogy of the horse, a subject which he had already written about, based entirely upon european specimens. my own explorations had led me to conclusions quite different from his, and my specimens seemed to me to prove conclusively that the horse originated in the new world and not in the old, and that its genealogy must be worked out here. with some hesitation, i laid the whole matter frankly before huxley, and he spent nearly two days going over my specimens with me, and testing each point i made. at each inquiry, whether he had a specimen to illustrate such and such a point or exemplify a transition from earlier and less specialised forms to later and more specialised ones, professor marsh would simply turn to his assistant and bid him fetch box number so and so, until huxley turned upon him and said,] "i believe you are a magician; whatever i want, you just conjure it up." [the upshot of this examination was that he recast a great part of what he meant to say at new york. when he had seen the specimens, and thoroughly weighed their import, continues professor marsh:-- he then informed me that all this was new to him, and that my facts demonstrated the evolution of the horse beyond question, and for the first time indicated the direct line of descent of an existing animal. with the generosity of true greatness, he gave up his own opinions in the face of new truth, and took my conclusions as the basis of his famous new york lecture on the horse. he urged me to prepare without delay a volume on the genealogy of the horse, based upon the specimens i had shown him. this i promised, but other work and new duties have thus far prevented. a letter to his wife describes his visit to yale:--] my excellent host met me at the station, and seems as if he could not make enough of me. i am installed in apartments which were occupied by his uncle, the millionaire peabody, and am as quiet as if i were in my own house. we have had a preliminary canter over the fossils, and i have seen some things which were worth all the journey across. this is the most charmingly picturesque town, with the streets lined by avenues of elm trees which meet overhead. i have never seen anything like it, and you must come and look at it. there is fossil work enough to occupy me till the end of the week, and i have arranged to go to springfield on monday to examine the famous footprints of the connecticut valley. the governor has called upon me, and i shall have to go and do pretty-behaved chez lui to-morrow. an application has come for an autograph, but i have not been interviewed! [this immunity, however, did not last long. he appears to have been caught by the interviewer the next day, for he writes on the th:--] i have not seen the notice in the "world" you speak of. you will be amused at the article written by the interviewer. he was evidently surprised to meet with so little of the "high falutin" philosopher in me, and says i am "affable" and of "the commercial or mercantile" type. that is something i did not know, and i am rather proud of it. we may be rich yet. [as to his work at yale museum, he writes in the same letter:--] we are hard at work still. breakfast at . --go over to the museum with marsh at or --work till . --dine--go back to museum to work till . then marsh takes me for a drive to see the views about the town, and back to tea about half-past eight. he is a wonderfully good fellow, full of fun and stories about his western adventures, and the collection of fossils is the most wonderful thing i ever saw. i wish i could spare three weeks instead of one to study it. to-morrow evening were are to have a dinner by way of winding up, and he has asked a lot of notables to meet me. i assure you i am being "made of," as i thought nobody but the little wife was foolish enough to do. [on the th he left to join professor alexander agassiz at newport, whence he wrote the following letters:--] newport, august , . my dear marsh, i really cannot say how much i enjoyed my visit to new haven. my recollections are sorting themselves out by degrees and i find how rich my store is. the more i think of it the more clear it is that your great work is the settlement of the pedigree of the horse. my wife joins with me in kind regards. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to mr. clarence king.] newport, august , . my dear sir, in accordance with your wish, i very willingly put into writing the substance of the opinion as to the importance of professor marsh's collection of fossils which i expressed to you yesterday. as you are aware, i devoted four or five days to the examination of this collection, and was enabled by professor marsh's kindness to obtain a fair conception of the whole. i am disposed to think that whether we regard the abundance of material, the number of complete skeletons of the various species, or the extent of geological time covered by the collection, which i had the good fortune to see at new haven, there is no collection of fossil vertebrates in existence, which can be compared with it. i say this without forgetting montmartre, siwalik, or pikermi--and i think that i am quite safe in adding that no collection which has been hitherto formed approaches that made by professor marsh, in the completeness of the chain of evidence by which certain existing mammals are connected with their older tertiary ancestry. it is of the highest importance to the progress of biological science that the publication of this evidence, accompanied by illustrations of such fulness as to enable paleontologists to form their own judgment as to its value, should take place without delay. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [breaking their journey at boston, they went from newport to petersham, in the highlands of worcester county, where they were the guests of mr. and mrs. john fiske, at their summer home. among the other visitors were the eminent musical composer mr. paine, the poet cranch, and daughters of hawthorne and longfellow, so that they found themselves in the midst of a particularly cheerful and delightful party. from petersham they proceeded to buffalo, the meeting-place that year of the american association for the advancement of science, which my father had promised to attend. here they stayed with mr. marshall, a leading lawyer, who afterwards visited them in england. awake was spent at niagara, partly in making holiday, partly in shaping the lectures which had to be delivered at the end of the trip. as to the impression made upon him by the falls--an experience which, it is generally presumed, every traveller is bound to record--i may note that after the first disappointment at their appearance, inevitable wherever the height of a waterfall is less than the breadth, he found in them an inexhaustible charm and fascination. as in duty bound, he, with my mother, completed his experiences by going under the wall of waters to the "cave of the winds." but of all things nothing pleased him more than to sit of an evening by the edge of the river, and through the roar of the cataract to listen for the under-sound of the beaten stones grinding together at its foot. leaving niagara on september , they travelled to cincinnati, a -hours' journey, where they rested a day; on the th another hours took them to nashville, where they were to meet his sister, mrs. scott. though years his senior, she maintained her vigour and brightness undimmed, as indeed she did to the end of her life, surviving him by a few weeks. as she now stood on the platform at nashville, mrs. huxley, who had never seen her, picked her out from among all the people by her piercing black eyes, so like those of her mother as described in the autobiographical sketch ("collected essays" ). nashville, her son's home, had been chosen as the meeting-place by mrs. scott, because it was not so far south nor so hot as montgomery, where she was then living. nevertheless in tennessee the heat of the american summer was very trying, and the good people of the town further drew upon the too limited opportunities of their guest's brief visit by sending a formal deputation to beg that he would either deliver an address, or be entertained at a public dinner, or "state his views"--to an interviewer i suppose. he could not well refuse one of the alternatives; and the greater part of one day was spent in preparing a short address on the geology of tennessee, which was delivered on the evening of september . he spoke for twenty minutes, but had scarcely any voice, which was not to be wondered at, as he was so tired that he had kept his room the whole day, while his wife received the endless string of callers. the next day they returned to cincinnati; and on the th went on to baltimore, where they stayed with mr. garrett, then president of the baltimore and ohio railway. the johns hopkins university at baltimore, for which he was to deliver the opening address, had been instituted by its founder on a novel basis. it was devoted to post-graduate study; the professors and lecturers received incomes entirely independent of the pupils they taught. men came to study for the sake of learning, not for the sake of passing some future examination. the endowment was devoted in the first place to the furtherance of research; the erection of buildings was put into the background.] "it has been my fate," [commented huxley,] "to see great educational funds fossilise into mere bricks and mortar in the petrifying springs of architecture, with nothing left to work them. a great warrior is said to have made a desert and called it peace. trustees have sometimes made a palace and called it a university." [half the fortune of the founder had gone to this university; the other half to the foundation of a great and splendidly equipped hospital for baltimore. this was the reason why the discussion of medical training occupies fully half of the address upon the general principles of education, in which, indeed, lies the heart of his message to america, a message already delivered to the old country, but specially appropriate for the new nation developing so rapidly in size and physical resources.] i cannot say that i am in the slightest degree impressed by your bigness or your material resources, as such. size is not grandeur, territory does not make a nation. the great issue, about which hangs a true sublimity, and the terror of overhanging fate, is, what are you going to do with all these things?... the one condition of success, your sole safeguard, is the moral worth and intellectual clearness of the individual citizen. education cannot give these, but it can cherish them and bring them to the front in whatever station of society they are to be found, and the universities ought to be and may be, the fortresses of the higher life of the nation. [this address was delivered under circumstances of peculiar difficulty. the day before, an expedition had been made to washington, from which huxley returned very tired, only to be told that he was to attend a formal dinner and reception the same evening.] "i don't know how i shall stand it," [he remarked. going to his room, he snatched an hour or two of rest, but was then called upon to finish his address before going out. it seems that it had to be ready for simultaneous publication in the new york papers. now the lecture was not written out; it was to be given from notes only. so he had to deliver it in extenso to the reporter, who took it down in shorthand, promising to let him have a longhand copy in good time the next morning. it did not come till the last moment. glancing at it on his way to the lecture theatre, he discovered to his horror that it was written upon "flimsy," from which he would not be able to read it with any success. he wisely gave up the attempt, and made up his mind to deliver the lecture as best he could from memory. the lecture as delivered was very nearly the same as that which he had dictated the night before, but with some curious discrepancies between the two accounts, which, he used to say, occurring as they did in versions both purporting to have been taken down from his lips, might well lead the ingenious critic of the future to pronounce them both spurious, and to declare that the pretended original was never delivered under the circumstances alleged. (cp. the incident at belfast.) there was an audience of some , and i am told that when he began to speak of the time that would come when they too would experience the dangers of over-population and poverty in their midst, and would then understand what europe had to contend with more fully than they did, a pin could have been heard to drop. at the end of the lecture, amid the enthusiastic applause of the crowd, he made his way to the front of the box where his hosts and their party were, and received their warm congratulations. but he missed one voice amongst them, and turning to where his wife sat in silent triumph almost beyond speech, he said,] "and have you no word for me?" [then, himself also deeply moved, stooped down and kissed her. this address was delivered on tuesday, september . on the th he went to philadelphia, and on the th to new york, where he delivered his three lectures on evolution on monday, wednesday, and friday, september , , and . these lectures are very good examples of the skill with which he could present a complicated subject in a simple form, the subject seeming to unroll itself by the force of its own naked logic, and carrying conviction the further through the simplicity of its presentation. indeed, an unfriendly critic once paid him an unintended compliment, when trying to make out that he was no great speaker; that all he did was to set some interesting theory unadorned before his audience, when such success as he attained was due to the compelling nature of the subject itself. since his earlier lectures to the public on evolution, the paleontological evidences had been accumulating; the case could be stated without some of the reservations of former days; and he brings forward two telling instances in considerable detail, the one showing how the gulf between two such apparently distinct groups as birds and reptiles is bridged over by ancient fossils intermediate in form; the other illustrating from professor marsh's new collections the lineal descent of the specialised horse from the more general type of quadruped. the farthest back of these was a creature with four toes on the front limb and three on the hind limb. judging from the completeness of the series or forms so far, he ventured to indulge in a prophecy.] thus, thanks to these important researches, it has become evident that, so far as our present knowledge extends, the history of the horse-type is exactly and precisely that which could have been predicted from a knowledge of the principles of evolution. and the knowledge we now possess justifies us completely in the anticipation that when the still lower eocene deposits, and those which belong to the cretaceous epoch, have yielded up their remains of ancestral equine animals, we shall find, first, a form with four complete toes and a rudiment of the innermost or first digit in front, with, probably, a rudiment of the fifth digit in the hind foot; while, in still older forms, the series of the digits will be more and more complete, until we come to the five-toed animals, in which, if the doctrine of evolution is well founded, the whole series must have taken its origin. [seldom has prophecy been sooner fulfilled. within two months, professor marsh had discovered a new genus of equine mammals, eohippus, from the lowest eocene deposits of the west, which corresponds very nearly to the description given above. he continues:--] that is what i mean by demonstrative evidence of evolution. an inductive hypothesis is said to be demonstrated when the facts are shown to be in entire accordance with it. if that is not scientific proof, there are no merely inductive conclusions which can be said to be proved. and the doctrine of evolution, at the present time, rests upon exactly as secure a foundation as the copernican theory of the motions of the heavenly bodies did at the time of its promulgation. its logical basis is of precisely the same character--the coincidence of the observed facts with theoretical requirements. [he left new york on september .] "i had a very pleasant trip in yankee-land," [he writes to professor baynes,] "and did not give utterance to a good deal that i am reported to have said there." [he reached england in good time for the beginning of his autumn lectures, and his ordinary busy life absorbed him again. he did not fail to give his london audiences the results of the recent discoveries in american paleontology, and on december , delivered a lecture at the london institution, "on recent additions to the knowledge of the pedigree of the horse." in connection with this he writes to professor marsh:--] marlborough place, london, n.w., december , . my dear marsh, i hope you do not think it remiss of me that i have not written to you since my return, but you will understand that i plunged into a coil of work, and will forgive me. but i do not mean to let you slip away without sending you all our good wishes for its successor--which i hope will not vanish without seeing you among us. i blew your trumpet the other day at the london institution in a lecture about the horse question. i did not know then that you had got another step back as i see you have by the note to my last lecture, which youmans has just sent me. i must thank you very heartily for the pains you have taken over the woodcuts of the lectures. it is a great improvement to have the patterns of the grinders. i promised to give a lecture at the royal institution on the st january next, and i am thinking of discoursing on the birds with teeth. have you anything new to tell on that subject? i have implicit faith in the inexhaustibility of the contents of those boxes. our voyage home was not so successful as that out. the weather was cold and i got a chill which laid me up for several days, in fact i was not well for some weeks after my return. but i am vigorous again now. pray remember me kindly to all new haven friends. my wife joins with me in kindest regards and good wishes for the new year. "tell him we expect to see him next year." i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on december he delivered a lecture "on the study of biology," in connection with the loan collection of scientific apparatus at south kensington ("collected essays" ), dealing with the origin of the name biology, its relation to sociology--] "we have allowed that province of biology to become autonomous; but i should like you to recollect that this is a sacrifice, and that you should not be surprised if it occasionally happens that you see a biologist apparently trespassing in the region of philosophy or politics; or meddling with human education; because, after all, that is a part of his kingdom which he has only voluntarily forsaken"]--how to learn biology, the use of museums, and above all, the utility of biology, as helping to give right ideas in this world, which] "is after all, absolutely governed by ideas, and very often by the wildest and most hypothetical ideas." [this lecture on biology was first published among the "american addresses" in . it was about this time that an extremely broad church divine was endeavouring to obtain the signatures of men of science to a document he had drawn up protesting against certain orthodox doctrines. huxley, however, refused to sign the protest, and wrote the following letter of explanation, a copy of which he sent to mr. darwin.] november , . dear sir, i have read the "protest," with a copy of which you have favoured me, and as you wish that i should do so, i will trouble you with a brief statement of my reasons for my inability to sign it. i object to clause on the ground long since taken by hume that the order of the universe such as we observe it to be, furnishes us with the only data upon which we can base any conclusion as to the character of the originator thereof. as a matter of fact, men sin, and the consequences of their sins affect endless generations of their progeny. men are tempted, men are punished for the sins of others without merit or demerit of their own; and they are tormented for their evil deeds as long as their consciousness lasts. the theological doctrines to which you refer, therefore, are simply extensions of generalisations as well based as any in physical science. very likely they are illegitimate extensions of these generalisations, but that does not make them wrong in principle. and i should consider it waste of time to "protest" against that which is. as regards clause i find that as a matter of experience, erroneous beliefs are punished, and right beliefs are rewarded--though very often the erroneous belief is based upon a more conscientious study of the facts than the right belief. i do not see why this should not be as true of theological beliefs as any others. and as i said before, i do not care to protest against that which is. many thanks for your congratulations. my tour was very pleasant and taught me a good deal. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--you are at liberty to make what use you please of this letter. marlborough place, november , . my dear darwin, i confess i have less sympathy with the half-and-half sentimental school which he represents than i have with thoroughgoing orthodoxy. if we are to assume that anybody has designedly set this wonderful universe going, it is perfectly clear to me that he is no more entirely benevolent and just in any intelligible sense of the words, than that he is malevolent and unjust. infinite benevolence need not have invented pain and sorrow at all--infinite malevolence would very easily have deprived us of the large measure of content and happiness that falls to our lot. after all, butler's "analogy" is unassailable, and there is nothing in theological dogmas more contradictory to our moral sense, than is to be found in the facts of nature. from which, however, the bishop's conclusion that the dogmas are true doesn't follow. with best remembrances to mrs. darwin, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this incident suggests the story of a retort he once made upon what he considered an unseasonable protest in church, a story which exemplifies, by the way, his strong sense of the decencies of life, appearing elsewhere in his constant respect for the ordinary conventions of his dislike for mere bohemianism as such. once in a country house he was sitting at dinner next to his hostess, a lady who, as will sometimes happen, liked to play the part of lady arbitress of the whole neighbourhood. she told him how much she disapproved of the athanasian creed, and described how she had risen and left the village church when the parson began to read it; and thinking to gain my father's assent, she turned to him and said graciously, "now mr. huxley, don't you think i was quite right to mark my disapproval?"] "my dear lady --" [he replied,] "i should as soon think of rising and leaving your table because i disapproved of one of the entrees." chapter . . . [in this year he delivered lectures and addresses on the "geological history of birds," at the zoological society's gardens, june ; on "starfishes and their allies," at the royal institution, march ; at the london institution, december , on "belemnites" (a subject on which he had written in , and which was doubtless suggested anew by his autumn holiday at whitby, where the lias cliffs are full of these fossils); at the anthropological conference, may , on "elementary instruction in physiology" ("collected essays" ), with special reference to the recent legislation as to experiments on living animals; and on "technical education" to the working men's club and institute, december ("collected essays" ): a perilous subject, indeed, considering, as he remarks, that] "any candid observer of the phenomena of modern society will readily admit that bores must be classed among the enemies of the human race; and a little consideration will probably lead him to the further admission, that no species of that extensive genus of noxious creatures is more objectionable than the educational bore...in the course of the last ten years, to go back no farther, i am afraid to say how often i have ventured to speak of education; indeed, the only part of this wide region into which, as yet, i have not adventured, is that into which i propose to intrude to-day." [the choice of subject for this address was connected with a larger campaign for the establishment of technical education on a proper footing, which began with his work on the school board, and was this year brought prominently before the public by another address delivered at the society of arts. the clothworkers company had already been assisting the society of arts in their efforts for the spread of technical education; and in july a special committee of the guilds applied to him, amongst half a dozen others, to furnish them with a report as to the objects and methods of a scheme of technical education. this paper fills sixteen pages in the report of the livery companies' committee for . the fundamental principles on which he bases his practical recommendations are contained in the following paragraph:--] it appears to me that if every person who is engaged in an industry had access to instruction in the scientific principles on which that industry is based; in the mode of applying these principles to practice; in the actual use of the means and appliances employed; in the language of the people who know as much about the matter as we do ourselves; and lastly, in the art of keeping accounts, technical education would have done all that can be required of it. [and his suggestions about buildings was at once adopted by the committee, namely, that they should be erected at a future date, regard being had primarily rather to what is wanted in the inside than what will look well from the outside. now the guilds formed a very proper body to set such a scheme on foot, because only such wealthy and influential members of the first mercantile city in the world could afford to let themselves be despised and jeered at for professing to teach english manufacturers and english merchants that they needed to be taught; and to spend , pounds a year towards that end for some time without apparent result. that they eventually succeeded, is due no little to the careful plans drawn out by huxley. he may be described as "really the engineer of the city and guilds institute; for without his advice," declared one of the leading members, "we should not have known what to have done." at the same time he warned them against indiscriminate zeal;] "though under-instruction is a bad thing, it is not impossible that over-instruction may be worse." [the aim of the livery companies should specially be to aid the practical teaching of science, so that at bottom the question turns mainly on the supply of teachers. on december , , he found a further opportunity of urging the cause of technical education. a lecture on apprenticeships was delivered before the society of arts by professor silvanus thompson. speaking after the lecturer (see report in "nature" page ) he discussed the necessity of supplying the place of the old apprenticeships by educating children in the principles of their particular crafts, beyond the time when they were forced to enter the workshops. this could be done by establishing schools in each centre of industry, connected with a central institution, such as was to be found in paris or zurich. as for complaints of deficient teaching of handicrafts in the board schools, it was more important for them to make intelligent men than skilled workmen, as again was indicated in the french system. as president of the royal society, he was on the above-mentioned committee of the guilds from to , and on december , , distributed the prizes in connection with the institution in the clothworkers' hall. after sketching the inception of the whole scheme, he referred to the central institute, then in course of building (begun in , it was finished in ; the technical college, finsbury, was older by a year), and spoke of the difficulties in the way of organising such an institution:--] that building is simply the body, not the flesh and bones, but the bricks and stones, of the central institute, and the business upon which sir f. bramwell and my other colleagues on the committee have been so much occupied, is the making a soul for this body; and i can assure you making a soul for anything is an amazingly difficult operation. you are always in danger of doing as the man in the story of frankenstein did, and making something which will eventually devour you instead of being useful to you. [and here i may give a letter which refers to the movement for technical education, and the getting the city companies under way in the matter. in the words of mr. george howell, m.p. (who sent it to the "times" (july , ) just after huxley's death), it has an additional interest "as indicating the nature of his own epitaph"; as a man "whose highest ambition ever was to uplift the masses of the people and promote their welfare intellectually, socially, and industrially."] marlborough place, n.w., january , . dear mr. howell, your letter is a welcome new year's gift. there are two things i really care about--one is the progress of scientific thought, and the other is the bettering of the condition of the masses of the people by bettering them in the way of lifting themselves out of the misery which has hitherto been the lot of the majority of them. posthumous fame is not particularly attractive to me, but, if i am to be remembered at all, i would rather it should be as "a man who did his best to help the people" than by other title. so you see it is no small pleasure and encouragement to me to find that i have been, and am, of any use in this direction. ever since my experience on the school board, i have been convinced that i should lose rather than gain by entering directly into politics...but i suppose i have some ten years of activity left in me, and you may depend upon it i shall lose no chance of striking a blow for the cause i have at heart. i thought the time had come the other day at the society of arts, and the event proves i was not mistaken. the animal is moving, and by a judicious exhibition of carrots in front and kicks behind, we shall get him into a fine trot presently. in the meantime do not let the matter rest...the (city) companies should be constantly reminded that a storm is brewing. there are excellent men among them, who want to do what is right, and need help against the sluggards and reactionaries. it will be best for me to be quiet for a while, but you will understand that i am watching for the turn of events. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this summer, too, he delivered a course on biology for teachers at south kensington, and published not only his "american addresses," but also the "physiography," founded upon the course delivered seven years before. the book, of which copies were sold in the first six weeks, was fruitful in two ways; it showed that a geographical subject could be invested with interest, and it set going what was almost a new branch of teaching in natural science, even in germany, the starting place of most educational methods, where it was immediately proposed to bring out an adaptation of the book, substituting, e.g. the elbe for the thames, as a familiar example of river action. he was immensely pleased by a letter from mr. john morley, telling how his step-son, a boy of non-bookish tastes, had been taken with it. "my step-son was reading it the other night. i said, 'isn't it better to read a novel before going to bed, instead of worrying your head over a serious book like that?' 'oh,' said he, 'i'm at an awfully interesting part, and i can't leave off.'" it was, mr. morley continued, "the way of making nature, as she comes before us every day, interesting and intelligible to young folks." to this he replied on december :--] i shall get as vain as a peacock if discreet folk like you say such pretty things to me as you do about the "physiography." but it is very pleasant to me to find that i have succeeded in what i tried to do. i gave the lectures years ago to show what i thought was the right way to lead young people to the study of nature--but nobody would follow suit--so now i have tried what the book will do. your step-son is a boy of sense, and i hope he may be taken as a type of the british public! [a good deal of time was taken up in the first half of the year by the scottish universities commission, which necessitated his attendance in edinburgh the last week in february, the first week in april, and the last week in july. he had hoped to finish off the necessary business at the first of these meetings, but no sooner had he arrived in edinburgh, after a pleasant journey down with j.a. froude, than he learned that] "the chief witness we were to have examined to-day, and whose due evisceration was one of the objects of my coming, has telegraphed to say he can't be here." [owing to this and to the enforced absence of the judges on the commission from some of the sittings, it was found necessary to have additional meetings at easter, much to his disgust. he writes:--] i am sorry to say i shall have to come here again in easter week. it is the only time the lord president is free from his courts, and although we all howled privately, there was no help for it. whether we finish then or not will depend on the decision of the government, as to our taking up the case of you troublesome women, who want admission into the university (very rightly too i think). if we have to go into this question it will involve the taking of new evidence and no end of bother. i find my colleagues very reasonable, and i hope some good may be done, that is the only consolation. i went out with blackie last evening to dine with the skeltons, at a pretty place called the hermitage, about three miles from here...blackie and i walked home with snow on the ground and a sharp frost. i told you it would turn cold as soon as i got here, but i am none the worse. [it was just the same in april:--] it is quite cold here as usual, and there was ice on the ponds we passed this morning...i am much better lodged than i was last time, for the same thanks to john bruce, but i do believe that the edinburgh houses are the coldest in the universe. in spite of a good breakfast and a good fire, the half of me that is writing to you is as cold as charity. april . we toil at the commission every day, and don't make any rapid progress. an awful fear creeps over me that we shall not finish this bout. [while he was in edinburgh for the third time, his attention was called to an article in the "echo," the organ of the anti-vivisection party. he writes:--] the "echo" is pretty. it is one of a long series of articles from the same hand, but i don't think they hurt anybody and they evidently please the writer. for some reason or other they have not attacked me yet, but i suppose my turn will come. [again:--] thank you for sending me john bright's speeches. they are very good, but hardly up to his old mark of eloquence. some parts are very touching. [his health was improving, as he notes with satisfaction:--] every day this week we have had about four hours of the commission, and i have dined out four days out of the six. but i'm no the waur, and the late dinners have not been visited by fits of morning blue devils. so i am in hopes that i am getting back to the normal state that clark prophesied for me. marlborough place, london, n.w., april , . my dear skelton, best thanks for your second edition. you paint the system (i.e. of scotch education.) in such favourable colours, that i am thinking of taking advantage of it for my horde of "young barbarians." i am sure scotch air would be of service to them--and in after-life they might have the inestimable advantage of a quasi-scotch nationality--that greatest of all practical advantages in britain. we are to sit again in the end of july when mrs. skelton and you, if you are wise, will be making holiday. your invitation is most tempting, and if i had no work to do i should jump at it. but alas! i shall have a deal of work, and i must go to my patmos in george street. ingrained laziness is the bane of my existence; and you don't suppose that with the sun shining down into your bosky dell, and mrs. skelton radiant, and froude and yourself nicotiant, i am such a philistine as to do a stroke of work? ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [from edinburgh he went to st. andrews to make arrangements for his elder son to go to the university there as a student the following winter. then he paid a visit to sir w. armstrong in northumberland, afterwards spending a month at whitby. his holiday work consisted in a great part of the article on "evolution" for the "encyclopaedia britannica," which is noted as finished on october , though not published till the next year. in november the honorary degree of ll.d. was conferred upon charles darwin at cambridge,] "a great step for cambridge, though it may not seem much in itself," [he writes to dohrn, november . in the evening after the public ceremony there was a dinner of the philosophical club, at which he spoke in praise of darwin's services to science. darwin himself was unable to be present, but received an enthusiastic account of the proceedings from his son, and wrote to thank huxley, who replied:--] marlborough place, november , . my dear darwin, nothing ever gave me greater pleasure than the using the chance of speaking my mind about you and your work which was afforded me at the dinner the other night. i said not a word beyond what i believe to be strictly accurate; and, please sir, i didn't sneer at anybody. there was only a little touch of the whip at starting, and it was so tied round with ribbons that it took them some time to find out where the flick had hit. t.h. huxley. [he writes to his wife:--] i will see if i can recollect the speech. i made a few notes sitting in dewar's room before the dinner. but as usual i did not say some things i meant to say and said others that came up on the spur of the moment. [and again:--] please i didn't say that reaumur was the other greatest scientific man since aristotle. but i said that in a certain character of his work he was the biggest man between aristotle and darwin. i really must write out an "authorised version" of my speech. i hear the latin oration is to be in "nature" this week, and lockyer wanted me to give him the heads of my speech, but i did not think it would be proper to do so, and refused. i have written out my speech as well as i can recollect it. i do not mind any friend seeing it, but you must not let it get about as the dinner was a private one. [the notes of his speech run as follows:--] mr. president, i rise with pleasure and with alacrity to respond to the toast which you have just proposed, and i may say that i consider one of the greatest honours which have befallen me, to be called upon to represent my distinguished friend mr. darwin upon this occasion. i say to represent mr. darwin, for i cannot hope to personate him, or to say all that would be dictated by a mind conspicuous for its powerful humility and strong gentleness. mr. darwin's work had fully earned the distinction you have to-day conferred upon him four-and-twenty years ago; but i doubt not that he would have found in that circumstance an exemplification of the wise foresight of his revered intellectual mother. instead of offering her honours when they ran a chance of being crushed beneath the accumulated marks of approbation of the whole civilised world, the university has waited until the trophy was finished, and has crowned the edifice with the delicate wreath of academic appreciation. this is what i suppose mr. darwin might have said had he been happily able to occupy my place. let me now speak in my own person and in obedience to your suggestion, let me state as briefly as possible what appear to me to be mr. darwin's distinctive merits. from the time of aristotle to the present day i know of but one man who has shown himself mr. darwin's equal in one field of research--and that is reaumur. in the breadth of range of mr. darwin's investigations upon the ways and works of animals and plants, in the minute patient accuracy of his observations, and in the philosophical ideas which have guided them, i know of no one who is to be placed in the same rank with him except reaumur. secondly, looking back through the same long period of scientific history, i know of but one man, lyonnet, who not being from his youth a trained anatomist, has published such an admirable minute anatomical research as is contained in mr. darwin's work on the cirripedes. thirdly, in that region which lies between geology and biology, and is occupied by the problem of the influence of life on the structure of the globe, no one, so far as i know, has done a more brilliant and far-reaching piece of work than the famous book upon coral reefs. i add to these as incidental trifles the numerous papers on geology, and that most delightful of popular scientific books, the "journal of a naturalist," and i think i have made out my case for the justification of to-day's proceedings. but i have omitted something. there is the "origin of species," and all that has followed it from the same marvellously fertile brain. most people know mr. darwin only as the author of this work, and of the form of evolutional doctrine which it advocates. i desire to say nothing about that doctrine. my friend dr. humphry has said that the university has by to-day's proceedings committed itself to the doctrine of evolution. i can only say "i am very glad to hear it." but whether that doctrine be true or whether it be false, i wish to express the deliberate opinion, that from aristotle's great summary of the biological knowledge of his time down to the present day, there is nothing comparable to the "origin of species," as a connected survey of the phenomena of life permeated and vivified by a central idea. in remote ages the historian of science will dwell upon it as the starting-point of the biology of his present and our future. my friend dr. humphry has adverted to somebody about whom i know nothing, who says that the exact and critical studies pursued in this university are ill-calculated to preserve a high tone of mind. i presume that this saying must proceed from some one wholly unacquainted with cambridge. whoever he may be, i beg him, if he can, to make the acquaintance of charles darwin. in mr. darwin's name i beg leave to thank you for the honour you have done him. [it happened that the quadrennial election of a lord rector at st. andrews university fell in this year, and on behalf of a number of students, huxley received a telegram from his son, now newly entered at st. andrews, asking him to stand. he writes to his wife:--] that boy of yours has just sent me a telegram, which i enclose. i sent back message to say that as a commissioner on the scotch universities i could not possibly stand. the cockerel is beginning to crow early. i do believe that to please the boy i should have assented to it if it had not been for the royal commission. [apropos of controversies (november )] we had a grand discussion at the royal society last night between tyndall and burdon sanderson. the place was crammed, and we had a late sitting. i'm not sure, however, that we had got much further at the end than at the beginning, which is a way controversies have. [the following story is worth recording, as an illustration not only of the way in which huxley would give what help was in his power to another man of science in distress, but of the ready aid proffered on this, as on many other occasions, by a wealthy northern merchant who was interested in science. a german scientific worker in england, whom we will call h., had fallen into distress, and applied to him for help, asking if some work could not be put in his way. huxley could think of nothing immediate but to suggest some lessons in german literature to his children, though in fact they were well provided for with a german governess; nevertheless he thought it a proper occasion to avail himself of his friend's offer to give help in deserving cases. he writes to his wife:--] i made up my mind to write to x. the day before yesterday; this morning by return of post he sends me a cheque not only for the pounds which i said h. needed, but pounds over for his present needs with a charming letter. it came in the nick of time, as h. came an hour or two after it arrived, and with many apologies told me he was quite penniless. the poor old fellow was quite overcome when i told him of how matters stood, and it was characteristic that as soon as he got his breath again, he wanted to know when he would begin teaching the children! i sent him to get an order on the naples bank for discharge of his debt there. x.'s express stipulation was that his name should not be mentioned, so mind you say not a word about his most kind and generous act. [the following letters of miscellaneous interest were written in this year:--] marlborough place, november , . my dear morley, i am always at the command of the "fortnightly" so long as you are editor, but i don't think that the belemnite business would do for you. [the lecture at the london institution mentioned above.] the story would hardly be intelligible without illustrations. there are two things i am going to do which may be more to the purpose. one is a screed on technical education which i am going to give to the working men's union on the st december. the other is a sort of eloge on harvey at the royal institution in march apropos of his th birthday--which was allfools day. you shall have either of these you like, but i advise harvey; as if i succeed in doing what i shall aim at it will be interesting. why the deuce do you live at brighton? st. john's wood is far less cockneyfied, and its fine and alpine air would be much better for you, and i believe for mrs. morley, than the atmosphere of the melancholy main, the effects of which on the human constitution have been so well expounded by that eminent empiric, dr. dizzy. anyhow, i wish we could see something of you now and then. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. darwin got his degree with great eclat on saturday. i had to return thanks for his health at the dinner of the philosophical society; and oh! i chaffed the dons so sweetly. marlborough place, n.w., november , . my dear morley, you shall have both the articles--if it is only that i may enjoy the innocent pleasure of knowles' face when i let him know what has become of them. [the rival editor. cp. above.] stormy ocean, forsooth! i back the storm and rain through which i came home to-night against anything london-super-mare has to show. i will send the manuscript to virtue as soon as it is in a reasonable state. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., january , . my dear morley, many thanks for the cheque. in my humble judgment it is quite as much as the commodity is worth. it was a great pleasure to us all to have you with us on new year's day. my wife claims it as her day, and i am not supposed to know anything about the guests except spencer and tyndall. none but the very elect are invited to the sacred feast--so you see where you stand among the predestined who cannot fall away from the state of grace. i have not seen spencer in such good form and good humour combined for an age. i am working away at harvey, and will send the manuscript to virtue's as soon as i am sufficiently forward. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, december , . my dear tyndall, i am so sorry to have been out when mrs. tyndall called to-day. by what we heard at the x on thursday, i imagined you were practically all right again, or i should have been able to look after you to-day. but what i bother you with this note for is to beg you not to lecture at the london institution to-morrow, but to let me change days with you, and so give yourself a week to recover. and if you are seedy, then i am quite ready to give them another lecture on the hokypotamus or whatever else may turn up. but don't go and exert yourself in your present condition. these severe colds have often nothing very tangible about them, but are not to be trifled with when folks are past fifty. let me have an answer to say that i may send a telegram to nicholson first thing to-morrow morning to say that i will lecture vice you. my "bottled life," as hutton calls it in the "spectator" this week, is quite ready to go off. [the "spectator" for december , , began an article thus:--"professor huxley delivered a very amusing address last saturday at the society of arts, on the very unpromising subject of technical education; but we believe that if professor huxley were to become the president of the social science association, or of the international statistical congress, he would still be amusing, so much bottled life does he infuse into the driest topic on which human beings ever contrived to prose."] now be a sane man and take my advice. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the year was the tercentenary of harvey's birth, and huxley was very busy with the life and work of that great physician. he spoke at the memorial meeting at the college of physicians (july ), he gave a lecture on harvey at the royal institution on january , afterwards published in "nature" and the "fortnightly review," and intended to write a book on him in a projected "english men of science" series. (see below.)] i am very glad you like "harvey" [he writes to professor baynes on february ]. he is one of the biggest scientific minds we have had. i expect to get well vilipended not only by the anti-vivisection folk, for the most of whom i have a hearty contempt, but apropos of bacon. i have been oppressed by the humbug of the "baconian induction" all my life, and at last the worm has turned. [now in this lecture he showed that harvey employed vivisection to establish the doctrine of the circulation of the blood, and furthermore, that he taught this doctrine before the "novum organum" was published, and that his subsequent "exercitatio" displays no trace of being influenced by bacon's work. after glancing at the superstitious reverence for the "baconian induction," he pointed out bacon's ignorance of the progress of science up to his time, and his inability to divine the importance of what he knew by hearsay of the work of copernicus, or kepler, or galileo; of gilbert, his contemporary, or of galen; and wound up by quoting ellis's severe judgment of bacon in the general preface to the philosophic works, in spedding's classical edition (page ):--] "that his method is impracticable cannot, i think, be denied, if we reflect, not only that it never has produced any result, but also that the process by which scientific truths have been established cannot be so presented as even to appear to be in accordance with it." [how early this conviction had forced itself upon him, i cannot say; but it was certainly not later than , when the "origin of species" was constantly met with "oh, but this is contrary to the baconian method." he had long felt what he expresses most clearly in the "progress of science" ("collected essays" - ), that bacon's] "majestic eloquence and fervid vaticinations," [which] "drew the attention of all the world to the 'new birth of time,'" [were yet, for all practical results on discovery,] "a magnificent failure." [the desire for "fruits" has not been the great motive of the discoverer; nor has discovery waited upon collective research.] "those who refuse to go beyond fact," [he writes,] "rarely get as far as fact; and any one who has studied the history of science knows that almost every great step therein has been made by the 'anticipation of nature,' that is, by the invention of hypotheses, which, though verifiable, often had very little foundation to start with; and, not unfrequently, in spite of a long career of usefulness, turned out to be wholly erroneous in the long-run." [thus he had been led to a settled disbelief in bacon's scientific greatness, that reasoned "prejudice" against which spedding himself was moved to write twice in defence of bacon. in his first letter he criticised a passage in the lecture touching this question. on the one hand, he remarks, "bacon would probably have agreed with you as to his pretensions as a scientific discoverer (he calls himself a bellman to call other wits together, or a trumpeter, or a maker of bricks for others to build with)." on the other hand, he asks, ought a passage from a fragment--the "temporis partus masculus"--unpublished in bacon's lifetime, to be treated as one of his representative opinions? in his second letter he adduces, on other grounds, his own more favourable impression of bacon's philosophical influence. a peculiar interest of this letter lies in its testimony to the influence of huxley's writings even on his elder contemporaries. from james spedding. february , . ...when you admit that you study bacon with a prejudice, you mean of course an unfavourable opinion previously formed on sufficient grounds. now i am myself supposed to have studied him with a prejudice the other way: but this i cannot admit, in any sense of the word; for when i first made his acquaintance i had no opinion or feeling about him at all--more than the ordinary expectation of a young man to find what he is told to look for. my earliest impression of his character came probably from thomson--whose portrait of him, except as touched and softened by the tenderer hand of "the sweet-souled poet of the seasons," did not differ from the ordinary one. it was not long indeed before i did begin to form an opinion of my own; one of those after-judgments which are liable to be mistaken for prejudices by those who judge differently, and which, being formed, do, no doubt, tell upon the balance. for it was not long before i found myself indebted to him for the greatest benefit probably that any man, living or dead, can confer on another. in my school and college days i had been betrayed by an ambition to excel in themes and declamations into the study, admiration, and imitation of the rhetoricians. in the course of my last long vacation--the autumn of --i was inspired with a new ambition, namely, to think justly about everything which i thought about at all, and to act accordingly; a conviction for which i cannot cease to feel grateful, and which i distinctly trace to the accident of having in the beginning of that same vacation given two shillings at a second-hand bookstall for a little volume of dove's classics, containing the advancement of learning. and if i could tell you how many superlatives i have since that time degraded into the positive; how many innumerables and infinities i have replaced by counted numbers and estimated quantities; how many assumptions, important to the argument in hand, i have withdrawn because i found on more consideration that the fact might be explained otherwise; and how many effective epithets i have discarded when i found that i could not fully verify them; you would think it no less than just that i should claim for myself and concede to others the right of being judged by the last edition rather than the first. that a persistent endeavour to free myself from what you regard as bacon's characteristic vice should have been the fruit of a desire to follow his example, will seem strange to you, but it is fact. perhaps you will think it not less strange, but it is my real belief, that if your own writings had been in existence and come in my way at the same critical stage of my moral and mental development, they would have taught me the same lesson and inspired me with the same ambition; for in that particular (if i may say it without offence) i look upon you both as eminent examples of the same virtue. to the lecture he refers once more in a letter to mr. john morley. the political situation touched on in this and the next letter is that of the end of the russo-turkish war and the beginning of the afghan war.] science schools, south kensington, february , . my dear morley, many thanks for the cheque, and still more for your good word for the article. [on harvey.] i knew it would "draw" hutton, and his ingenuity has as usual made the best of the possibilities of attack. i am glad to find, however, that he does not think it expedient to reiterate his old story about the valuelessness of vivisection in the establishment of the doctrine of the circulation. i hear that that absurd creature r-- goes about declaring that i have made all sorts of blunders. could not somebody be got to persuade him to put what he has to say in black and white? controversy is as abhorrent to me as gin to a reclaimed drunkard; but oh dear! it would be so nice to squelch that pompous imposter. i hope you admire the late aspects of the british lion. his tail goes up and down from the intercrural to the stiffly erect attitude per telegram, while his head is sunk in the windbag of the house of commons. i am beginning to think that a war would be a good thing if only for the inevitable clean sweep of all the present governing people which it would bring about. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to his eldest daughter.] science schools, south kensington, december , . dearest jess, you are a badly used young person--you are; and nothing short of that conviction would get a letter out of your still worse used pater, the bete noire of whose existence is letter-writing. catch me discussing the afghan question with you, you little pepper pot. no, not if i know it. read fitzjames stephen's letter in the "times," also bartle frere's memorandum, also napier of magdala's memo. them's my sentiments. also read the speech of lord hartington on the address. he is a man of sense like his father, and you will observe that he declares that the government were perfectly within their right in declaring war without calling parliament together... if you had lived as long as i have and seen as much of men, you would cease to be surprised at the reputations men of essentially commonplace powers--aided by circumstances and some amount of cleverness--obtain. i am as strong for justice as any one can be, but it is real justice, not sham conventional justice which the sentimentalists howl for. at this present time real justice requires that the power of england should be used to maintain order and introduce civilisation wherever that power extends. the afghans are a pack of disorderly treacherous blood-thirsty thieves and caterans who should never have been allowed to escape from the heavy hand we laid upon them, after the massacre of twenty thousand of our men, women, and children in the khoord cabul pass thirty years ago. we have let them be, and the consequence is they now lend themselves to the russians, and are ready to stir up disorder and undo all the good we have been doing in india for the last generation. they are to india exactly what the highlanders of scotland were to the lowlanders before ; and we have just as much right to deal with them in the same way. i am of opinion that our indian empire is a curse to us. but so long as we make up our minds to hold it, we must also make up our minds to do those things which are needful to hold it effectually, and in the long run it will be found that so doing is real justice both for ourselves, our subject population, and the afghans themselves. there, you plague. ever your affectionate daddy, t.h. huxley. [a few days later he writes to his son:--] the liberals are making fools of themselves, and "the family" declare i am becoming a jingo! another speech from gladstone is expected to complete my conversion. [among other occupations he still had to attend the scottish universities commission, for which he wrote the paragraph on examinations in its report; he lectured on the hand at the working men's college; prepared new editions of the "physiography," "elementary physiology," and "vertebrate anatomy," and at length brought out the "introductory primer" in the science primer series, in quite a different form from what he had originally sketched out. but his chief interest lay in the invertebrata. from april to june he lectured to working men at jermyn street upon the crayfish; read a paper on the classification and distribution of crayfishes at the zoological society on june , and lectured at the zoological gardens weekly from may to june on crustaceous animals. in all this work lay the foundations of his subsequent book on the crayfish, which i find jotted down in the notes of this year to be written as an introduction to "zoology," together with the "dog" as an introduction to the "mammalia", and "man"--already dealt with in "man's place in nature"--as an introduction to "anthropology." this projected series is completed with a half-erased note of an introduction to "psychology," which perhaps found some expression in parts of the "hume," also written this year. he notes down also, work on the ascidians, and on the morphology of the mollusca and cephalopods brought back by the "challenger," in connection with which he now began the monograph on the rare creature spirula, a remarkable piece of work, being based upon the dissections of a single specimen, but destined never to be completed by his hand, though his drawings were actually engraved, and nothing remained but to put a few finishing touches and to write detailed descriptions of the plates. letters to w.k. parker and professor haeckel touch on this part of his work; the former, indeed, offering a close parallel to a story, obviously of the same period, which the younger parker tells in his reminiscences, to illustrate the way in which he would be utterly engrossed in a subject for the time being. jeffery parker, while demonstrator of biology, came to him with a question about the brain of the codfish at a time when he was deep in the investigation of some invertebrate group.] "codfish?" [he replied,] "that's a vertebrate, isn't it? ask me a fortnight hence, and i'll consider it." marlborough place, september , . my dear parker, as far as i recollect ammocoetes is a vertebrated animal--and i ignore it. the paper you refer to was written by my best friend--a carefulish kind of man--and i am as sure that he saw what he says he saw, as if i had seen it myself. but what the fact may mean and whether it is temporary or permanent--is thy servant a dog that he should worry himself about other things with backbones? not if i know it. churchill has got over a whole batch of the american edition of the vertebrata, so i have a respite. mollusks are far more interesting--bugs sweeter--while the dinner crayfish hath no parallel for intense and absorbing interest in the three kingdoms of nature. what saith the scripture? "go to the ant thou sluggard." in other words, study the invertebrata. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [sketch of a vast winged ant advancing on a midget, and saying, as it looks through a pair of eyeglasses, "well, really, what an absurd creature!!"] marlborough place, london, april , . my dear haeckel, since the receipt of your letter three months ago, i have been making many inquiries about medusae for you, but i could hear of none--and so i have delayed my reply, until i doubt not you have been blaspheming my apparent neglect. my "sammlung"!! [collection.] my dear friend, my cabin on board h.m.s. "rattlesnake" was feet long, feet wide, and feet inches high. when my bed and my clothes were in it, there was not much room for any collection, except the voluntary one made by some thousands of specimens of blatta orientalis [the cockroach.], with whose presence i should have been very glad to dispense. my medusae were never published. i have heaps of notes and drawings and half-a-dozen engraved plates. but after the publication of the "oceanic hydrozoa" i was obliged to take to quite other occupations, and all that material is like the "full many a flower, born to blush unseen," of our poet. if you would pay us a visit you should look through the whole mass, if you liked, and you might find something interesting. at present, i am very busy about crayfishes (flusskrebse), working out the relations between their structure and their geographical distribution, which are very curious and interesting. i have also nearly finished the anatomy of spirula for the "challenger." it is essentially a cuttlefish, and the shell is really internal. with only one specimen, it has been a long and troublesome job--but i shall establish all the essential points and give half-a-dozen plates of anatomy. you will recollect my eldest little daughter? she is going to be married next saturday. it is the first break in our family, and we are very sad to lose her--though well satisfied with her prospects. she is but just twenty and a charming girl, though you may put that down to fatherly partiality if you like. the second daughter has taken to art, and will make a painter if she be wise enough not to marry for some years. my eldest son who comes next is taller than i am. he has been at one of the scotch universities for the last six months; and one of these fine days, next month, you will see a fair-haired stripling asking for herr professor haeckel. i am going to send him to jena for three months to pick up your noble vernacular; and in the meanwhile to continue his greek and mathematics, in which the young gentleman is fairly proficient. if you can recommend any professor under whom he can carry on his studies, it will be a great kindness. i will give him a letter to you, and while i beg you not to give yourself any trouble about him, i need not say i shall be very grateful for any notice you may take of him. i am giving him as much independence of action as possible, in order that he may learn to take care of himself. now that is enough about my children. yours must yet be young--and you have not yet got to the marriage and university stage--which i assure you is much more troublesome than the measles and chicken-pox period. my wife unites with me in kindest remembrances and good wishes. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [an outbreak of diphtheria among his children made the spring of a time of overwhelming anxiety. how it told upon his strong and self-contained chief is related by t.j. parker--"i never saw a man more crushed than he was during the dangerous illness of one of his daughters, and he told me that, having then to make an after-dinner speech, he broke down for the first time in his life, and for one painful moment forgot where he was and what he had to say." this was one of the few occasions of his absence from college during the seventies. "when, after two days, he looked in at the laboratory," writes professor howes, "his dejected countenance and tired expression betokened only too plainly the intense anxiety he had undergone." the history of the outbreak was very instructive. huxley took a leading part in organising an inquiry and in looking into the matter with the health officer.] "as soon as i can get all the facts together," [he writes on december ,] "i am going to make a great turmoil about our outbreak of diphtheria--and see whether i cannot get our happy-go-lucky local government mended." [as usual, the epidemic was due to culpable negligence. in the construction of some drains, too small a pipe was laid down. the sewage could not escape, and flooded back in a low-lying part of kilburn. diphtheria soon broke out close by. while it was raging there, a st. john's wood dairyman running short of milk, sent for more to an infected dairy in kilburn. every house which he supplied that day with kilburn milk was attacked with diphtheria. but with relief from this heavy strain, his spirits instantly revived, and he writes to tyndall.] marlborough place, may , . my dear tyndall, i wrote you a most downhearted letter this morning about madge, and not without reason. but having been away four hours, i come home to find a wonderful and blessed change. the fever has abated and she is looking like herself. if she could only make herself heard, i should have some sauciness. i see it in her eyes. if you will be so kind as to kiss everybody you meet on my account it will be a satisfaction to me. you may begin with mrs. tyndall! ever yours, t.h. huxley. [professor marsh, with whom huxley had stayed at yale college in , paid his promised visit to england immediately after this.] marlborough place, n.w., june , (evening). my dear marsh, welcome to england! i am delighted to hear of your arrival--but the news has only just reached me, as i have been away since saturday with my wife and sick daughter who are at the seaside. a great deal has happened to us in the last six or seven weeks. my eldest daughter married, and then a week after an invasion of diphtheria, which struck down my eldest son, my youngest daughter, and my eldest remaining daughter altogether. two of the cases were light, but my poor madge suffered terribly, and for some ten days we were in sickening anxiety about her. she is slowly gaining strength now, and i hope there is no more cause for alarm--but my household is all to pieces--the lares and penates gone, and painters and disinfectors in their places. you will certainly have to run down to margate and see my wife--or never expect forgiveness in this world. i shall be at the science schools, south kensington, to-morrow till four--and if i do not see you before that time i shall come and look you up at the palace hotel. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. "is it not provoking," [he writes to his wife,] "that we should all be dislocated when i should have been so glad to show him a little attention?" [still, apart from this weekend at the seaside, professor marsh was not entirely neglected. he writes in his "recollections" (page ):-- how kind huxley was to everyone who could claim his friendship, i have good cause to know. of the many instances which occur to me, one will suffice. one evening in london at a grand annual reception of the royal academy, where celebrities of every rank were present, huxley said to me,] "when i was in america, you showed me every extinct animal that i had read about, or even dreamt of. now, if there is a single living lion in all great britain that you wish to see, i will show him to you in five minutes." [he kept his promise, and before the reception was over, i had met many of the most noted men in england, and from that evening, i can date a large number of acquaintances, who have made my subsequent visits to that country an ever-increasing pleasure. as for his summer occupations, he writes to his eldest daughter on july :--] no, young woman, you don't catch me attending any congresses i can avoid, not even if f. is an artful committee-man. i must go to the british association at dublin--for my sins--and after that we have promised to pay a visit in ireland to sir victor brooke. after that i must settle myself down in penmaenmawr and write a little book about david hume--before the grindery of the winter begins. [the meeting of the british association took place this year in the third week of august at dublin. huxley gave an address in the anthropological subsection ("informal remarks on the conclusions of anthropology" "british association report" pages - .), and on the th received the honorary degree of ll.d. from dublin university, the public orator presenting him in the following words:-- praesento vobis thomam henricum huxley--hominem vere physicum--hominem facundum, lepidum, venustum--eundem autem nihil (philosophia modo sua lucem praeferat) reformidantem--ne illud quidem ennianum, simia quam similis, turpissima bestia, nobis. the extract above given contains the first reference to the book on hume (in the "english men of letters" series, edited by mr. john morley.), written this summer as a holiday occupation at penmaenmawr. the speed at which it was composed is remarkable, even allowing for his close knowledge of the subject, acquired many years before. though he had been "picking at it" earlier in the summer, the whole of the philosophical part was written during september, leaving the biographical part to be done later. the following letters from marlborough place show him at work upon the book:--] march , . my dear morley, i like the notion of undertaking your hume book, and i don't see why i should not get it done this autumn. but you must not consider me pledged on that point, as i cannot quite command my time. tulloch sent me his book on pascal. it was interesting as everything about pascal must be, but tulloch is not a model of style. i have looked into bruton's book, but i shall now get it and study it. hume's correspondence with rousseau seems to me typical of the man's sweet, easy-going nature. do you mean to have a portrait of each of your men? i think it is a great comfort in a biography to get a notion of the subject in the flesh. i have rather made it a rule not to part with my property in my books--but i daresay that can be arranged with macmillan. anyhow i shall be content to abide by the general arrangement if you have made one. we have had a bad evening. clifford has been here, and he is extremely ill--in fact i fear the worst for him. [see below.] it is a thousand pities, for he has a fine nature all round, and time would have ripened him into something very considerable. we are all very fond of him. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. july , . my dear morley, very many thanks for diderot. i have made a plunge into the first volume and found it very interesting. i wish you had put a portrait of him as a frontispiece. i have seen one--a wonderful face, something like goethe's. i am picking at hume at odd times. it seems to me that i had better make an analysis and criticism of the "inquiry," the backbone of the essay--as it touches all the problems which interest us most just now. i have already sketched out a chapter on miracles, which will, i hope, be very edifying in consequence of its entire agreement with the orthodox arguments against hume's a priori reasonings against miracles. hume wasn't half a sceptic after all. and so long as he got deep enough to worry orthodoxy, he did not care to go to the bottom of things. he failed to see the importance of suggestions already made both by locke and berkeley. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. september , . my dear morley, praise me! i have been hard at work at hume at penmaenmawr, and i have got the hard part of the business--the account of his philosophy--blocked out in the bodily shape of about pages foolscap manuscript. but i find the job as tough as it is interesting. hume's diamonds, before the public can see them properly, want a proper setting in a methodical and consistent shape--and that implies writing a small psychological treatise of one's own, and then cutting it down into as unobtrusive a form as possible. so i am working away at my draft--from the point of view of an aesthetic jeweller. as soon as i get it into such a condition as will need only verbal trimming, i should like to have it set up in type. for it is a defect of mine that i can never judge properly of any composition of my own in manuscript. moreover (don't swear at this wish) i should very much like to send it to you in that shape for criticism. the life will be an easy business. i should like to get the book out of hand before christmas, and will do so if possible. but my lectures begin on tuesday, and i cannot promise. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. october , . my dear morley, i have received slips up to chapter of hume, and so far i do not think (saving your critical presence) that there will be much need of much modification or interpolation. i have made all my citations from a -volume edition of hume, published by black and tait in , which has long been in my possession. do you think i ought to quote green and grose's edition? it will be a great bother, and i really don't think that the understanding of hume is improved by going back to eighteenth-century spelling. i am at work upon the life, which should not take long. but i wish that i had polished that off at penmaenmawr as well. what with lecturing five days a week, and toiling at two anatomical monographs, it is hard to find time. as soon as i have gone through all the eleven chapters about the philosophy--i will send them to you and get you to come and dine some day--after you have looked at them--and go into it. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. science schools, south kensington, october , . my dear morley, your letter has given me great pleasure. for though i have thoroughly enjoyed the work, and seemed to myself to have got at the heart of hume's way of thinking, i could not tell how it would appear to others, still less could i pretend to judge of the literary form of what i had written. and as i was quite prepared to accept your judgment if it had been unfavourable, so being what it is, i hug myself proportionately and begin to give myself airs as a man of letters. i am through all the interesting part of hume's life--that is, the struggling part of it--and david the successful and the feted begins rather to bore me, as i am sorry to say most successful people do. i hope to send the first chapter to press in another week. might it not be better, by the way, to divide the little book into two parts? part .--life, literary and political work, part .--philosophy, subdividing the latter into chapters or sections? please tell me what you think. i have not received the last chapter from the printer yet. when i do i will finish revising, and then ask you to come and have a symposium over it. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--macmillan has a lien on "the hand." i gave part of the lecture in another shape at glasgow two years ago and m. had it reported for his magazine. if he is good and patient he will get it in some shape some day! marlborough place, n.w., november , . my dear morley, "davie's" philosophy is now all in print, and all but a few final pages of his biography. so i think the time has come when that little critical symposium may take place. can you come and dine on tuesday next ( ) at ? or if any day except wednesday th, next week, will suit you better, it will do just as well for me. there will be nobody but my wife and daughters, so don't dress. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--will you be disgusted if in imitation of the "english men of letters" i set agoing an "english men of science." few people have any conception of the part englishmen have played in science, and i think it would be both useful and interesting to bring the truth home to the english mind. i had about three thousand people to hear me on saturday at manchester, and it would have done you good to hear how they cheered at my allusion to personal rule. i had to stop and let them ease their souls. behold my p.s. is longer than my letter. it's the strong feminine element in my character oozing out. "desinit in piscem" though, and a mighty queer fish too. marlborough place, january , . dear lecky, i am very much obliged for your suggestion about the note at page . i am ashamed to say that though the eleven day correction was familiar enough to me, i had never thought about the shifting of the beginning of the year till you mentioned it. it is a law of nature, i believe, that when a man says what he need not say he is sure to blunder. the note shall go out. all i know about sprat is as the author of a dull history of the royal society, so i was surprised to meet with hume's estimate of him. no doubt about the general hatred of the scotch, but you will observe that i make millar responsible for the peace-making assurance. what you said to me in conversation some time ago led me to look at hume's position as a moralist with some care, and i quoted the passage at page that no doubt might be left on the matter. the little book threatened to grow to an undue length, and therefore the question of morals is treated more briefly than was perhaps desirable. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [early in november i find the first reference to a proposed, but never completed, "english men of science" series in the letter to mr. morley above. the following letters, especially those to sir h. roscoe, with whom he was concerting the series, give some idea of its scope:--] marlborough place, n.w., december , . my dear roscoe, you will think that i have broken out into letter-writing in a very unwonted fashion, but i forgot half of what i had to say this morning. after a good deal of consultation with macmillans, who were anxious that the "english men of science" series should not be too extensive, i have arranged the books as follows:-- . roger bacon. . harvey and the physiologists of the th century. . robert boyle and the royal society. . isaac newton. . charles darwin. . english physicists, gilbert, young, faraday, joule. . english chemists, black, priestley, cavendish, davy, dalton. . english physiologists and zoologists of the th century, hunter, etc. . english botanists, ray, crew, hales, brown. . english geologists, hutton, smith, lyell. we may throw in the astronomers if the thing goes. green of leeds will undertake ; dyer, with hooker's aid, ; m. foster eight and i look to you for . tyndall has half promised to do boyle, and i hope he will. clerk-maxwell can't undertake newton, and hints x. but i won't have x.--he is too much of a bolter to go into the tandem. i am thinking of asking moulton, who is strongly recommended by spottiswoode, and is a very able fellow, likely to put his strength into it. do you know anything about chrystal of st. andrews? [now professor of mathematics at edinburgh.] i forget whether i asked you before. from all i hear of him i expect he would do number very well. i have written to adamson by this post. i shall get off with harvey and darwin to my share. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., december , . my dear roscoe, i was very loth to lump the chemists together, but max was very strong about not having too many books in the series; and on the other hand, i had my doubts how far the chemists were capable of "dissociation" without making the book too technical. but i do not regard the present arrangement as unalterable, and if you think the early chemists and the later chemists would do better in two separate groups, the matter is quite open to consideration. maxwell says he is overdone with work already, and altogether declines to take anything new. i shall have to look about me for a man to do the physikers. of course adamson will have to take in a view of the science of the middle ages. that will be one of the most interesting parts of the book, and i hope he will do it well. i suppose he knows his dante. the final cause of boys is to catch something or other. i trust that yours is demeasling himself properly. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, december . my dear tyndall, i consider your saying the other evening that you would see "any one else d--d first," before you would assent to the little proposal i made to you, as the most distinct and binding acceptance you are capable of. you have nothing else to swear by, and so you swear at everybody but me when you want to pledge yourself. it will release me of an immense difficulty if you will undertake r. boyle and the royal society (which of course includes hooke); and the subject is a capital one. the book should not exceed about pages, and you need not be ready before this time next year. there could not be a more refreshing piece of work just to enliven the dolce far niente of the bel alp. (that is quite a la knowles, and i begin to think i have some faculty as an editor.) settle your own terms with macmillan. they will be as joyful as i shall be to know you are going to take part in the enterprise. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, december , . my dear tyndall, i would sooner have your boyle, however long we may have to wait for it, than anybody else's d--d simmer. (now that's a "goak," and you must ask mrs. tyndall to explain it to you.) two years will i give you from this blessed new year's eve, , and if it isn't done on new year's day you shall not be admitted to the company of the blessed, but your dinner shall be sent to you between two plates to the most pestiferous corner of the laboratory of the royal institution. i am very glad you will undertake the job, and feel that i have a proper new year's gift. by the way, you ought to have had hume ere this. macmillan sent me two or three copies, just to keep his word, on christmas day, and i thought i should have a lot more at once. but there is no sign--not even an advertisement--and i don't know what has become of the edition. perhaps the bishops have bought it up. with all good wishes, ever yours, t.h. huxley. [two letters--both to tyndall--show his solicitude for his friends. the one speaks of a last and unavailing attempt made by w.k. clifford's friends to save his life by sending him on a voyage (he died not long after at madeira); the other urges tyndall himself to be careful of his health.] marlborough place, april , . my dear tyndall, we had a sort of council about clifford at clark's house yesterday morning--h. thompson, corfield, payne, pollock, and myself, and i am sure you will be glad to hear the result. from the full statement of the nature of his case made by clark and corfield, it appears that though grave enough in all conscience, it is not so bad as it might be, and that there is a chance, i might almost say a fair chance, for him yet. it appears that the lung mischief has never gone so far as the formation of a cavity, and that it is at present quiescent, and no other organic disease discoverable. the alarming symptom is a general prostration--very sadly obvious when he was with us on sunday--which, as i understand, rather renders him specially obnoxious to a sudden and rapid development of the lung disease than is itself to be feared. it was agreed that they should go at once to gibraltar by the p. and o., and report progress when he gets there. if strong enough he is to go on a cruise round the mediterranean, and if he improves by this he is to go away for a year to bogota (in south america), which appears to be a favourable climate for such cases as his. if he gets worse he can but return. i have done my best to impress upon him and his wife the necessity of extreme care, and i hope they will be wise. it is very pleasant to find how good and cordial everybody is, helpful in word and deed to the poor young people. i know it will rejoice the cockles of your generous old heart to hear it. as for yourself, i trust you are mending and allowing yourself to be taken care of by your household goddess. with our united love to her and yourself, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i sent your cheque to yeo. may, . my dear tyndall, you were very much wanted on saturday, as your wife will have told you, but for all that i would not have had you come on any account. you want a thorough long rest and freedom from excitement of all sorts, and i am rejoiced to hear that you are going out of the hurly-burly of london as soon as possible; and, not to be uncivil, i do hope you will stay away as long as possible, and not be deluded into taking up anything exciting as soon as you feel lively again among your mountains. pray give up dublin. if you don't, i declare i will try if i have enough influence with the council to get you turned out of your office of lecturer, and superseded. do seriously consider this, as you will be undoing the good results of your summer's rest. i believe your heart is as sound as your watch was when you went on your memorable slide [on the piz morteratsch; "hours of exercise in the alps" by j. tyndall chapter .], but if you go slithering down avalanches of work and worry you can't always expect to pick up "the little creature" none the worse. the apparatus is by one of the best makers, but it has been some years in use, and can't be expected to stand rough work. you will be glad to hear that we had cheerier news of clifford on saturday. he was distinctly better, and setting out on his mediterranean voyage. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a birthday letter to his son concludes the year:--] marlborough place, n.w., december , . your mother reminds me that to-morrow is your eighteenth birthday, and though i know that my "happy returns" will reach you a few hours too late, i cannot but send them. you are touching manhood now, my dear laddie, and i trust that as a man your mother and i may always find reason to regard you as we have done throughout your boyhood. the great thing in the world is not so much to seek happiness as to earn peace and self-respect. i have not troubled you much with paternal didactics--but that bit is "ower true" and worth thinking over. chapter . . . [much of the work noted down for reappears in my father's list for . he was still at work upon, or meditating his crayfish, his introduction to psychology, the spirula memoir, and a new edition of the elementary physiology. professor h.n. martin writes about the changes necessary for adapting the "practical biology" to american needs; the article on harvey was waiting to be put into permanent form. besides giving an address at the working men's college, he lectured on sensation and the uniformity of the sensiferous organs ("collected essays" .), at the royal institution, friday evening, march ; and on snakes, both at the zoological gardens, june , and at the london institution, december . on february he read a paper at the royal society on "the characters of the pelvis in the mammalia, and the conclusions respecting the origin of mammals which may be based on them"; and published in "nature" for november a paper on "certain errors respecting the structure of the heart, attributed to aristotle." great interest attaches to this paper. he had always wondered how aristotle, in dissecting a heart, had come to assert that it contained only three chambers; and the desire to see for himself what stood in the original, uncommented on by translators who were not themselves anatomists, was one of the chief reasons (i think the wish to read the greek testament in the original was another) which operated in making him take up the study of greek late in middle life. his practice was to read in his book until he had come to ten new words; these he looked out, parsed, and wrote down together with their chief derivatives. this was his daily portion. when at last he grappled with the passage in question, he found that aristotle had correctly described what he saw under the special conditions of his dissection, when the right auricle actually appears as he described it, an enlargement of the "great vein." so that this, at least, ought to be removed from the list of aristotle's errors. the same is shown to be the case with his statements about respiration. his own estimate of aristotle as a physiologist is between the panegyric of cuvier and the depreciation of lewes: "he carried science a step beyond the point at which he found it; a meritorious, but not a miraculous, achievement." and it will interest scholars to know that from his own experience as a lecturer, huxley was inclined to favour the theory that the original manuscripts of the "historia animalium," with their mingled accuracy and absurdity, were notes taken by some of his students. this essay was reprinted in "science and culture" page . this year he brought out his second volume of essays on various subjects, written from to , under the title of "critiques and addresses," and later in the year, his long-delayed and now entirely recast "introductory primer" in the science primer series.] barnepark terrace, teignmouth, september , . my dear roscoe, i send you by this post my long-promised primer, and a like set of sheets goes to stewart. [balfour stewart, professor of natural philosophy in owens college, manchester.] you will see that it is quite different from my first sketch, geikie's primer having cut me out of that line--but _i_ think it much better. you will see that the idea is to develop science out of common observation, and to lead up to physics, chemistry, biology, and psychology. i want the thing to be good as far as it goes, so don't spare criticism. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. best remembrances from us all, which we are jolly. [to his other duties he now added that of a governor of eton college, a post which he held till , when, after doing what he could to advance progressive ideas of education, and in particular, getting a scheme adopted for making drawing part of the regular curriculum, ill-health compelled him to resign.] as for other pressure of work [he writes to dr. dohrn, february ], with the exception of the zoological society, i never have anything to do with the affairs of any society but the royal now--i find the latter takes up all my disposable time...take comfort from me. i find to be a very youthful period of existence. i have been better physically, and worked harder mentally, this last twelve month than in any year of my life. so a mere boy, not yet like you, may look to the future hopefully. [from about this time dates the inception of a short-lived society, to be called the association of liberal thinkers. it had first taken shape in the course of a conversation at professor w.k. clifford's house; the chief promoter and organiser being a well-known theistic preacher, while on the council were men of science, critics, and scholars in various branches of learning. huxley was chosen president, and the first meeting of officers and council took place at his house on january . professor g.j. romanes was asked to join, but refused on the ground that even if the negations which he supposed the society would promulgate, were true, it was not expedient to offer them to the multitude. to this huxley wrote the following reply (january , ):--] many thanks for your letter. i think it is desirable to explain that our society is by no means intended to constitute a propaganda of negations, but rather to serve as a centre of free thought. of course i have not a word to say in respect of your decision. i quite appreciate your view of the matter, though it is diametrically opposed to my own conviction that the more rapidly truth is spread among mankind the better it will be for them. only let us be sure that it is truth. [however, a course of action was proposed which by no means commended itself to several members of the council. tyndall begs huxley "not to commit us to a venture of the kind unless you see clearly that it meets a public need, and that it will be worked by able men," and on february the latter writes:--] after careful consideration of the whole circumstances of the case, i have definitely arrived at the conclusion that it is not expedient to go on with the undertaking. i therefore resign my presidency, and i will ask you to be so good as to intimate my withdrawal from the association to my colleagues. [in spite of having long ago "burned his ships" with regard to both the great universities, huxley was agreeably surprised by a new sign of the times from cambridge. the university now followed up its recognition of darwin two years before, by offering huxley an honorary degree, an event of which he wrote to professor baynes on june :--] i shall be glorious in a red gown at cambridge to-morrow, and hereafter look to be treated as a person of respectability. i have done my best to avoid that misfortune, but it's of no use. [a curious coincidence occurred here. mr. sandys, the public orator, in his speech presenting him for the degree, picked out one of his characteristics for description in the horatian phrase, "propositi tenax." now this was the family motto; and huxley wrote to point out the coincidence. (the speech delivered by the public orator on this occasion (june , ) ran as follows:--academi inter silvas qui verum quaerunt, non modo ipsi veritatis lumine vitam hanc umbratilem illustrare conantur, sed illustrissimum quemque veritatis investigatorem aliunde delatum ea qua par est comitate excipiunt. adest vir cui in veritate exploranda ampla sane provincia contigit, qui sive in animantium sive in arborum et herbarum genere quicquid vivit investigat, ipsum illud vivere quid sit, quali ex origine natum sit; qui exquirit quae cognationis necessitudo inter priores illas viventium species et has quae etiam nunc supersunt, intercedat. olim in oceano australi, ubi rectis "oculis monstra natantia" vidit, victoriam prope primam, velut alter perseus, a medusa reportavit; varias deinceps animantium formas quasi ab ipsa gorgone in saxum versas sagacitate singulari explicavit; vitae denique universae explorandae vitam suam totam dedicavit. physicorum inter principes diu honoratus, idem (ut verbum mutuemur a cartesio illo cujus laudes ipse in hac urbe quondam praedicavit) etiam "metaphysica" honore debito prosecutus est. illum demum liberaliter educatum esse existimat qui cum ceteris animi et corporis dotibus instructus sit, tum praesertim quicquid turpe sit oderit, quicquid sive in arte sive in rerum natura pulchrum sit diligat; neque tamen ipse (ut ait aristotles) "animalium parum pulchorum contemplationem fastidio puerili reformidat"; sed in perpetua animantium serie hominis vestigia perscrutari conatus, satis ampla liberalitate in universa rerum natura "humani nihil a se alienum putat." duco ad vos virum intrepidum, facundum, propositi tenacem, thomam henricum huxley.)] science and art department, south kensington, june , . my dear mr. sandys, i beg your acceptance of the inclosed photograph, which is certainly the best ever executed of me. and by way of a memento of the claim which you established not only to the eloquence but also the insight of a prophet, i have added an impression of the seal with "tenax propositi" writ plain, if not large. as i mentioned to you, it belonged to my eldest brother, who has been dead for many years. i trust that the heralds' college may be as well satisfied as he was about his right to the coat of arms and crest. my own genealogical inquiries have taken me so far back that i confess the later stages do not interest me. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the british association met at sheffield in , and huxley took this occasion to "eat the leek" in the matter of bathybius (see volume ). it must be remembered that his original interpretation of the phenomenon did not involve any new theory of the origin of life, and was not put forward because of its supposed harmony with darwin's speculations.] ("that which interested me in the matter was the apparent analogy of bathybius with other well-known forms of lower life, such as the plasmodia of the myxomycetes and the rhizopods. speculative hopes or fears had nothing to do with the matter; and if bathybius were brought up alive from the bottom of the atlantic to-morrow, the fact would not have the slightest bearing, that i can discern, upon mr. darwin's speculations, or upon any of the disputed problems of biology. it would merely be one elementary organism the more added to the thousands already known.") [("collected essays .) in supporting a vote of thanks to dr. allman, the president, for his address, he said (see "nature" august , ):--] i will ask you to allow me to say one word rather upon my own account, in order to prevent a misconception which, i think, might arise, and which i should regret if it did arise. i daresay that no one in this room, who has attained middle life, has been so fortunate as to reach that age without being obliged, now and then, to look back upon some acquaintance, or, it may be, intimate ally of his youth, who has not quite verified the promises of that youth. nay, let us suppose he has done quite the reverse, and has become a very questionable sort of character, and a person whose acquaintance does not seem quite so desirable as it was in those young days; his way and yours have separated; you have not heard much about him; but eminently trustworthy persons have assured you he has done this, that, or the other; and is more or less of a black sheep, in fact. the president, in an early part of his address, alluded to a certain thing--i hardly know whether i ought to call it a thing or not--of which he gave you the name bathybius, and he stated, with perfect justice, that i had brought that thing into notice; at any rate, indeed, i christened it, and i am, in a certain sense, its earliest friend. for some time after that interesting bathybius was launched into the world, a number of admirable persons took the little thing by the hand, and made very much of it, and as the president was good enough to tell you, i am glad to be able to repeat and verify all the statements, as a matter of fact, which i had ventured to make about it. and so things went on, and i thought my young friend bathybius would turn out a credit to me. but i am sorry to say, as time has gone on, he has not altogether verified the promise of his youth. in the first place, as the president told you, he could not be found when he was wanted; and in the second place, when he was found, all sorts of things were said about him. indeed, i regret to be obliged to tell you that some persons of severe minds went so far as to say that he was nothing but simply a gelatinous precipitate of slime, which had carried down organic matter. if that is so, i am very sorry for it, for whoever may have joined in this error, i am undoubtedly primarily responsible for it. but i do not know at the present time of my own knowledge how the matter stands. nothing would please me more than to investigate the matter afresh in the way it ought to be investigated, but that would require a voyage of some time, and the investigation of this thing in its native haunts is a kind of work for which, for many years past, i have had no opportunity, and which i do not think i am very likely to enjoy again. therefore my own judgment is in an absolute state of suspension about it. i can only assure you what has been said about this friend of mine, but i cannot say whether what is said is justified or not. but i feel very happy about the matter. there is one thing about us men of science, and that is, no one who has the greatest prejudice against science can venture to say that we ever endeavour to conceal each other's mistakes. and, therefore, i rest in the most entire and complete confidence that if this should happen to be a blunder of mine, some day or other it will be carefully exposed by somebody. but pray let me remind you whether all this story about bathybius be right or wrong, makes not the slightest difference to the general argument of the remarkable address put before you to-night. all the statements your president has made are just as true, as profoundly true, as if this little eccentric bathybius did not exist at all. [several letters of miscellaneous interest may be quoted. the following acknowledges the receipt of "essays in romance":--] marlborough place, london, n.w., january . my dear skelton, being the most procrastinating letter-writer in existence, i thought, or pretended to think, when i received your "essays in romance" that it would not be decent to thank you until i had read the book. and when i had done myself that pleasure, i further pretended to think that it would be much better to wait till i could send you my hume book, which as it contains a biography, is the nearest approach to a work of fiction of which i have yet been guilty. the "hume" was sent, and i hope reached you a week ago; and as my conscience just now inquired in a very sneering and unpleasant tone whether i had any further pretence for not writing on hand, i thought i might as well stop her mouth at once. you will see oddly enough that i have answered your question about dreams in a sort of way on page . [cp. "essays in romance" page ; huxley's "hume" page .] you will get nothing but praise for your book, and i shall be vilipended for mine. is that fact, or is it not, an evidence of a special providence and divine government? pray remember me very kindly to mrs. skelton. i hope your interrupted visit will yet become a fact. we have a clean bill of health now. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. scottish university commission, queen street, edinburgh, april , . my dear skelton, i shall be delighted to dine with you on wednesday, and take part in any discussion either moral or immoral that may be started. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. march , . my dear mrs. tyndall, your hearty letter is as good as a bottle of the best sunshine. yes, i will lunch with you on friday with pleasure, and jess proposes to attend on the occasion...her husband is in gloucester, and so doesn't count. the absurd creature declares she must go back to him on saturday--stuff and sentiment. she has only been here six or seven weeks. there is nothing said in scripture about a wife cleaving to her husband! with all our loves, ever yours very sincerely, t.h. huxley. [the next is to his son, then at st. andrews university, on winning a scholarship tenable at oxford.] south kensington, april , . my dear boy, i was very glad to get your good news this morning, and i need not tell you whether m-- was pleased or not. but the light of nature doth not inform us of the value and duration of the "guthrie"--and from a low and material point of view i should like to be informed on that subject. however, this is "mere matter of detail" as the irishman said when he was asked how he had killed his landlord. the pleasure to us is that you have made good use of your opportunities, and finished this first stage of your journey so creditably. i am about to write to the master of balliol for advice as to your future proceedings. in the meanwhile, go in for the enjoyment of your holiday with a light heart. you have earned it. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [the following, to mrs. clifford, was called forth by a hitch in respect to the grant to her of a civil list pension after the death of her husband:--] marlborough place, july , . my dear lucy, i am just off to gloucester to fetch m-- back, and i shall have a long talk with that sage little woman over your letter. in the meanwhile keep quiet and do nothing. i feel the force of what you say very strongly--so strongly, in fact, that i must morally ice myself and get my judgment clear and cool before i advise you what is to be done. i am very sorry to hear you have been so ill. for the present dismiss the matter from your thoughts and give your mind to getting better. leave it all to be turned over in the mind of that cold-blooded, worldly, cynical old fellow, who signs himself, your affectionate pater. [the last is to mr. edward clodd, on receiving his book "jesus of nazareth."] marlborough place, abbey road, n.w., december , . my dear mr. clodd, i have been spending all this sunday afternoon over the book you have been kind enough to send me, and being a swift reader, i have travelled honestly from cover to cover. it is the book i have been longing to see; in spirit, matter and form it appears to me to be exactly what people like myself have been wanting. for though for the last quarter of a century i have done all that lay in my power to oppose and destroy the idolatrous accretions of judaism and christianity, i have never had the slightest sympathy with those who, as the germans say, would "throw the child away along with the bath"--and when i was a member of the london school board i fought for the retention of the bible, to the great scandal of some of my liberal friends--who can't make out to this day whether i was a hypocrite, or simply a fool on that occasion. but my meaning was that the mass of the people should not be deprived of the one great literature which is open to them--not shut out from the perception of their relations with the whole past history of civilised mankind--not excluded from such a view of judaism and jesus of nazareth as that which at last you have given us. i cannot doubt that your work will have a great success not only in the grosser, but the better sense of the word. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the winter of - was memorable for its prolonged spell of cold weather. one result of this may be traced in a new year's letter from huxley to his eldest daughter.] "i have had a capital holiday--mostly in bed--but i don't feel so grateful for it as i might do." [to be forced to avoid the many interruptions and distractions of his life in london, which claimed the greatest part of his time, he would regard as an unmixed blessing; as he once said feelingly to professor marsh,] "if i could only break my leg, what a lot of scientific work i could do!" [but he was less grateful for having entire inaction forced upon him. however, he was soon about again, and wrote as follows in answer to a letter from sir thomas (afterwards lord) farrer, which called his attention, as an old fishery commissioner, to a recent report on the sea-fisheries.] marlborough place, january , . my dear farrer, i shall be delighted to take a dive into the unfathomable depths of official folly; but your promised document has not reached me. your astonishment at the tenacity of life of fallacies, permit me to say, is shockingly unphysiological. they, like other low organisms, are independent of brains, and only wriggle the more, the more they are smitten on the place where the brains ought to be--i don't know b., but i am convinced that a. has nothing but a spinal cord, devoid of any cerebral development. would mr. cross give him up for purposes of experiment? lingen and you might perhaps be got to join in a memorial to that effect. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a fresh chapter of research, the results of which he now began to give to the public, was the history of the dog. on april and he lectured at the royal institution "on dogs and the problems connected with them"--their relation to other animals, and the problem of the origin of the domestic dog, and the dog-like animals in general. as so often before, these lectures were the outcome of the careful preparation of a course of instruction for his students. the dog had been selected as one of the types of mammalian structure upon which laboratory work was to be done. huxley's own dissections had led him on to a complete survey of the genus, both wild and domestic. as he writes to darwin on may :--] i wish it were not such a long story that i could tell you all about the dogs. they will make out such a case for "darwinismus" as never was. from the south american dogs at the bottom (c. vetulus, cancrivorus, etc.) to the wolves at the top, there is a regular gradual progression the range of variation of each "species" overlapping the ranges of those below and above. moreover, as to the domestic dogs, i think i can prove that the small dogs are modified jackals, and the big dogs ditto wolves. i have been getting capital material from india, and working the whole affair out on the basis of measurements of skulls and teeth. however, my paper for the zoological society is finished, and i hope soon to send you a copy of it... [unfortunately he never found time to complete his work for final publication in book form, and the rough, unfinished notes are all that remain of his work, beyond two monographs "on the epipubis in the dog and fox" ("proceedings of the royal society" - ), and "on the cranial and dental characters of the canidae" ("proceedings of the zoological society" pages - ). the following letters deal with the collection of specimens for examination:--] marlborough place, january , . my dear flower, i happened to get hold of two foxes this week--a fine dog fox and his vixen wife; and among other things, i have been looking up cowper's glands, the supposed absence of which in the dogs has always "gone agin' me." moreover, i have found them (or their representatives) in the shape of two small sacs, which open by conspicuous apertures into the urethra immediately behind the bulb. if your icticyon was a male, i commend this point to your notice. item. if you have not already begun to macerate him, do look for the "marsupial" fibro-cartilages, which i have mentioned in my "manual," but the existence of which blasphemers have denied. i found them again at once in both mr. and mrs. vulpes. you spot them immediately by the pectineus which is attached to them. the dog-fox's caecum is so different from the vixen's that gray would have made distinct genera of them. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., may , . my dear fayrer, i am greatly obliged for the skulls, and i hope you will offer my best thanks to your son for the trouble he has taken in getting them. the "fox" is especially interesting because it is not a fox, by any manner of means, but a big jackal with some interesting points of approximation towards the cuons. i do not see any locality given along with the specimens. can you supply it? i have got together some very curious evidence of the wider range of variability of the indian jackal, and the "fox" which your son has sent is the most extreme form in one direction i have met with. i wish i could get some examples from the bombay and madras presidencies and from ceylon, as well as from central india. almost all i have seen yet are from bengal. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [between the two lectures on the dog, mentioned above, on april , huxley delivered a friday evening discourse, at the same place, "on the coming of age of the origin of species" ("collected essays" ). reviewing the history of the theory of evolution in the twenty-one years that had elapsed since the "origin of species" first saw the light in , he did not merely dwell on the immense influence the "origin" had exercised upon every field of biological inquiry.] "mere insanities and inanities have before now swollen to portentous size in the course of twenty years." "history warns us that it is the customary fate of new truths to begin as heresies, and to end as superstitions." [there was actual danger lest a new generation should] "accept the main doctrines of the "origin of species" with as little reflection, and it may be with as little justification, as so many of our contemporaries, years ago, rejected them." [so dire a consummation, he declared, must be prevented by unflinching criticism, the essence of the scientific spirit,] "for the scientific spirit is of more value than its products, and irrationally held truths may be more harmful than reasoned errors." [what, then, were the facts which justified so great a change as had taken place, which had removed some of the most important qualifications under which he himself had accepted the theory? he proceeded to enumerate the] "crushing accumulation of evidence" [during this period, which had proved the imperfection of the geological record; had filled up enormous gaps, such as those between birds and reptiles, vertebrates and invertebrates, flowering and flowerless plants, or the lowest forms of animal and plant life. more: paleontology alone has effected so much--the fact that evolution has taken place is so irresistibly forced upon the mind by the study of the tertiary mammalia brought to light since , that] "if the doctrine of evolution had not existed, paleontologists must have invented it." [he further developed the subject by reading before the zoological society a paper "on the application of the laws of evolution to the arrangement of the vertebrata, and more particularly of the mammalia" ("proceedings of the zoological society" pages - ). in reply to darwin's letter thanking him for the "coming of age" ("life and letters" ), he wrote on may :--] my dear darwin, you are the cheeriest letter-writer i know, and always help a man to think the best of his doings. i hope you do not imagine because i had nothing to say about "natural selection," that i am at all weak of faith on that article. on the contrary, i live in hope that as paleontologists work more and more in the manner of that "second daniel come to judgment," that wise young man m. filhal, we shall arrive at a crushing accumulation of evidence in that direction also. but the first thing seems to me to be to drive the fact of evolution into people's heads; when that is once safe, the rest will come easy. i hear that ce cher x. is yelping about again; but in spite of your provocative messages (which rachel retailed with great glee), i am not going to attack him nor anybody else. [another popular lecture on a zoological subject was that of july on "cuttlefish and squids," the last of the "davis" lectures given by him at the zoological gardens. more important were two other essays delivered this year. the "method of zadig" ("collected essays" ), an address at the working men's college, takes for its text voltaire's story of the philosopher at the oriental court, who, by taking note of trivial indications, obtains a perilous knowledge of things which his neighbours ascribe either to thievery or magic. this introduces a discourse on the identity of the methods of science and of the judgments of common life, a fact which, twenty-six years before, he had briefly stated in the words,] "science is nothing but trained and organised common sense" [("collected essays" ). the other is "science and culture" ("collected essays" ), which was delivered on october , as the opening address of the josiah mason college at birmingham, and gave its name to a volume of essays published in the following year. here was a great school founded by a successful manufacturer, which was designed to give an education at once practical and liberal, such as the experience of its founder approved, to young men who meant to embark upon practical life. a "mere" literary training--i.e. in the classical languages--was excluded, but not so the study of english literature and modern languages. the greatest stress was laid on training in the scientific theory and practice on which depend the future of the great manufactures of the north. the question dealt with in this address is whether such an education can give the culture demanded of an educated man to-day. the answer is emphatically yes. english literature is a field of culture second to none, and for solely literary purposes, a thorough knowledge of it, backed by some other modern language, will amply suffice. combined with this, a knowledge of modern science, its principles and results, which have so profoundly modified society and have created modern civilisation, will give a "criticism of life," as matthew arnold defined "the end and aim of all literature," that is to say culture, unattainable by any form of education which neglects it. in short, although the "culture" of former periods might be purely literary, that of to-day must be based, to a great extent, upon natural science. this autumn several letters passed between him and darwin. the latter, contrary to his usual custom, wrote a letter to "nature," in reply to an unfair attack which had been made upon evolution by sir wyville thomson in his introduction to "the voyage of the challenger" (see darwin "life and letters" ), and asked huxley to look over the concluding sentences of the letter, and to decide whether they should go with the rest to the printer or not. "my request," he writes (november ), "will not cost you much trouble--i.e. to read two pages--for i know that you can decide at once." huxley struck them out, replying on the th,] "your pinned-on paragraph was so good that, if i had written it myself, i should have been unable to refrain from sending it on to the printer. but it is much easier to be virtuous on other people's account; and though thomson deserved it and more, i thought it would be better to refrain. if i say a savage thing, it is only 'pretty fanny's way'; but if you do, it is not likely to be forgotten." [the rest of this correspondence has to do with a plan of darwin's, generous as ever, to obtain a civil list pension for the veteran naturalist, wallace, whose magnificent work for science had brought him but little material return. he wrote to consult huxley as to what steps had best be taken; the latter replied in the letter of november :--] the papers in re wallace have arrived, and i lose no time in assuring you that all my "might, amity, and authority," as essex said when that sneak bacon asked him for a favour, shall be exercised as you wish. on december he sends darwin the draft of a memorial on the subject, and on the th suggests that the best way of moving the official world would be for darwin himself to send the memorial, with a note of his own, to mr. gladstone, who was then prime minister and first lord of the treasury:--] mr. g. can do a thing gracefully when he is so minded, and unless i greatly mistake, he will be so minded if you write to him. [the result was all that could be hoped. on january darwin writes:--"hurrah! hurrah! read the enclosed. was it not extraordinarily kind of mr. gladstone to write himself at the present time?...i have written to wallace. he owes much to you. had it not been for your advice and assistance, i should never have had courage to go on." the rest of the letter to darwin of december is characteristic of his own view of life. as he wrote four years before (see above), he was no pessimist any more than he was a professed optimist. if the vast amount of inevitable suffering precluded the one view, the gratuitous pleasures, so to speak, of life preclude the other. life properly lived is worth living, and would be even if a malevolent fate had decreed that one should suffer, say, the pangs of toothache two hours out of every twenty-four. so he writes:--] we have had all the chicks (and the husbands of such as are therewith provided) round the christmas table once more, and a pleasant sight they were, though i say it that shouldn't. only the grand-daughter left out, the young woman not having reached the age when change and society are valuable. i don't know what you think about anniversaries. i like them, being always minded to drink my cup of life to the bottom, and take my chance of the sweets and bitters. [the following is to his edinburgh friend dr. skelton, whose appreciation of his frequent companionship had found outspoken expression in the pages of "the crookit meg."] marlborough place, november , . my dear skelton, when the "crooked meg" reached me i made up my mind that it would be a shame to send the empty acknowledgment which i give (or don't give) for most books that reach me. but i am over head and ears in work--time utterly wasted in mere knowledge getting and giving--and for six weeks not an hour for real edification with a wholesome story. but this sunday afternoon being, by the blessing of god, as beastly a november day as you shall see, i have attended to my spiritual side and been visited by a blessing in the shape of some very pretty and unexpected words anent mysel'. [the passage referred to stands on page of "the crookit meg," and describes the village naturalist and philosopher, adam meldrum, "who in his working hours cobbled old boats, and knew by heart the plays of shakespeare and the 'pseudodoxia epidemica' of sir thomas browne." "for the rest it will be enough to add that this long, gaunt, bony cobbler of old boats was--was--(may i take the liberty, mr. professor?) a village huxley of the year one. the colourless brilliancy of the great teacher's style, the easy facility with which the drop of light forms itself into a perfect sphere as it falls from his pen, belong indeed to a consummate master of the art of expression, which adam of course was not; but the mental lucidity, justice, and balance, as well as the reserve of power, and the shakespearean gaiety of touch, which made the old man one of the most delightful companions in the world, were essentially huxleian."] in truth, it is a right excellent story, though, distinctly in love with eppie, i can only wonder how you had the heart to treat her so ill. a girl like that should have had two husbands--one "wisely ranged for show" and t'other de par amours. don't ruin me with mrs. skelton by repeating this, but please remember me very kindly to her. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letter to tyndall was called forth by an incident in connection with the starting of the "nineteenth century." huxley had promised to help the editor by looking over the proofs of a monthly article on contemporary science. but his advertised position as merely adviser in this to the editor was overlooked by some who resented what they supposed to be his assumption of the role of critic in general to his fellow-workers in science. at a meeting of the x club, tyndall made a jesting allusion to this; huxley, however, thought the mere suggestion too grave for a joke, and replied with all seriousness to clear himself from the possibility of such misconception. and the same evening he wrote to tyndall:--] athenaeum club, pall mall, s.w., december , . my dear tyndall, i must tell you the ins and outs of this "nineteenth century" business. i was anxious to help knowles when he started the journal, and at his earnest and pressing request i agreed to do what i have done. but being quite aware of the misinterpretation to which i should be liable if my name "sans phrase" were attached to the article, i insisted upon the exact words which you will find at the head of it; and which seemed, and still seem to me, to define my position as a mere adviser of the editor. moreover, by diligently excluding any expression of opinion on the part of the writers of the compilation, i thought that nobody could possibly suspect me of assuming the position of an authority even on the subjects with which i may be supposed to be acquainted, let alone those such as physics and chemistry, of which i know no more than any one of the public may know. therefore your remarks came upon me to-night with the sort of painful surprise which a man feels who is accused of the particular sin of which he flatters himself he is especially not guilty, and "roused my corruption" as the scotch have it. but there is no need to say anything about that, for you were generous and good as i have always found you. only i pray you, if hereafter it strikes you that any doing of mine should be altered or amended, tell me yourself and privately, and i promise you a very patient listener, and what is more a very thankful one. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [tyndall replied with no less frankness, thanking him for the friendly promptitude of his letter, and explaining that he had meant to speak privately on the matter, but had been forestalled by the subject coming up when it did. and he wound up by declaring that it would be too absurd to admit the power of such an occasion "to put even a momentary strain upon the cable which has held us together for nine and twenty years." at the very end of the year, george eliot died. a proposal was immediately set on foot to inter her remains in westminster abbey, and various men of letters pressed the matter on the dean, who was unwilling to stir without a very strong and general expression of opinion. to mr. herbert spencer, who had urged him to join in memorialising the dean, huxley replied as follows:--] marlborough place, december , . my dear spencer, your telegram which reached me on friday evening caused me great perplexity, inasmuch as i had just been talking with morley, and agreeing with him that the proposal for a funeral in westminster abbey had a very questionable look to us, who desired nothing so much as that peace and honour should attend george eliot to her grave. it can hardly be doubted that the proposal will be bitterly opposed, possibly (as happened in mill's case with less provocation), with the raking up of past histories, about which the opinion even of those who have least the desire or the right to be pharisaical is strongly divided, and which had better be forgotten. with respect to putting pressure on the dean of westminster, i have to consider that he has some confidence in me, and before asking him to do something for which he is pretty sure to be violently assailed, i have to ask myself whether i really think it a right thing for a man in his position to do. now i cannot say i do. however much i may lament the circumstance, westminster abbey is a christian church and not a pantheon, and the dean thereof is officially a christian priest, and we ask him to bestow exceptional christian honours by this burial in the abbey. george eliot is known not only as a great writer, but as a person whose life and opinions were in notorious antagonism to christian practice in regard to marriage, and christian theory in regard to dogma. how am i to tell the dean that i think he ought to read over the body of a person who did not repent of what the church considers mortal sin, a service not one solitary proposition in which she would have accepted for truth while she was alive? how am i to urge him to do that which, if i were in his place, i should most emphatically refuse to do? you tell me that mrs. cross wished for the funeral in the abbey. while i desire to entertain the greatest respect for her wishes, i am very sorry to hear it. i do not understand the feeling which could create such a desire on any personal grounds, save those of affection, and the natural yearning to be near even in death to those whom we have loved. and on public grounds the wish is still less intelligible to me. one cannot eat one's cake and have it too. those who elect to be free in thought and deed must not hanker after the rewards, if they are to be so called, which the world offers to those who put up with its fetters. thus, however i look at the proposal it seems to me to be a profound mistake, and i can have nothing to do with it. i shall be deeply grieved if this resolution is ascribed to any other motives than those which i have set forth at more length than i intended. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the last ten years had found huxley gradually involved more and more in official duties. now, with the beginning of , he became yet more deeply engrossed in practical and administrative work, more completely cut off from his favourite investigations, by his appointment to an inspectorship of fisheries, in succession to the late frank buckland. it is almost pathetic to note how he snatched at any spare moments for biological research. no sooner was a long afternoon's work at the home office done, than, as professor howes relates, he would often take a hansom to the laboratory at south kensington, and spend a last half-hour at his dissections before going home. the inspectorship, which was worth pounds a year, he held in addition to his post at south kensington, the official description of which now underwent another change. in the first place, his official connection with the survey appears to have ceased this year, the last report made by him being in . his name, however, still appeared in connection with the post of naturalist until his retirement in , and it was understood that his services continued to be available if required. next, in october of this year, the royal school of mines was incorporated with the newly established normal school--or as it was called in , royal college of science, and the title of lecturer on general natural history was suppressed, and huxley became professor of biology and dean of the college at a salary of pounds, for it was arranged on his appointment to the inspectorship, that he should not receive the salary attached to the post of dean. thus the treasury saved pounds a year. as professor of biology, he was under the lord president of the council; as inspector of fisheries, under the board of trade; hence some time passed in arranging the claims of the two departments before the appointment was officially made known, as may be gathered from the following letters:--] to sir john donnelly. marlborough place, december , . my dear donnelly, i tried hard to have a bad cold last night, and though i blocked him with quinine, i think i may as well give myself the benefit of the bank holiday and keep the house to-day. there is a chance of your getting early salmon yet. i wrote to decline the post on friday, but on saturday evening the home secretary sent a note asking to see me yesterday. as he had re-opened the question, of course i felt justified in stating all the pros and cons of the case as personal to myself and my rather complicated official position...he entered into the affair with a warmth and readiness which very agreeably surprised me, and he proposes making such arrangements as will not oblige me to have anything to do with the weirs or the actual inspection. under these circumstances the post would be lovely--if i can hold it along with the other things. and of his own motion the home secretary is going to write to lord spencer about it to see if he cannot carry the whole thing through. if this could be managed, i could get great things done in the matter of fish culture and fish diseases at south kensington, if poor dear x.'s rattle trappery could be turned to proper account, without in any way interfering with the work of the school. at any rate, my book stands not to lose, and may win--the innocence of the dove is not always divorced from the wisdom of the sarpent. [sketch of the "sarpent."] to lord farrer. marlborough place, january , . my dear farrer, i have waited a day or two before thanking you for your very kind letter, in the hope that i might be able to speak as one knowing where he is. but as i am still, in an official sense, nowhere, i will not delay any longer. i had never thought of the post, but the home secretary offered it to me in a very kind and considerate manner, and after some hesitation i accepted it. but some adjustment had to be made between my master, the lord president, and the treasury; and although everybody seems disposed to be very good to me, the business is not yet finally settled. whence the newspapers get their information i don't know--but it is always wrong in these matters. as you know, i have had a good apprenticeship to the work [he had already served on two fishery committees, and - .]--and i hope to be of some use; of the few innocent pleasures left to men past middle life--the jamming common-sense down the throats of fools is perhaps the keenest. may we do some joint business in that way! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. to his eldest son. february , . i have entered upon my new duties as fishery inspector, but you are not to expect salmon to be much cheaper just yet. my colleague and i have rooms at the home office, and i find there is more occupation than i expected, but no serious labour. every now and then i shall have to spend a few days in the country, holding inquiries, and as salmon rivers are all in picturesque parts of the country, i shall not object to that part of the business. [the duties of the new office were partly scientific, partly administrative. on the one hand, the natural history and diseases of fish had to be investigated; on the other, regulations had to be carried out, weirs and salmon passes approved, disputes settled, reports written. i find, for instance, that apart from the work in london, visits of inspection in all parts of the country took up twenty-eight days between march and september this year. sir spencer walpole, who was his colleague for some years, has kindly given me an account of their work together. early in , sir william harcourt appointed professor huxley one of her majesty's inspectors of fisheries. the office had become vacant through the untimely death, in the preceding december, of the late mr. frank buckland. under an act, passed twenty years before, the charge of the english salmon fisheries had been placed under the home office, and the secretary of state had been authorised to appoint two inspectors to aid him in administering the law. the functions of the home office and of the inspectors were originally simple, but they had been enlarged by an act passed in , which conferred on local conservators elaborate powers of making bye-laws for the development and preservation of the fisheries. these bye-laws required the approval of the secretary of state, who was necessarily dependent on the advice of his inspectors in either allowing or disallowing them. in addition to the nominal duties of the inspectors, they became--by virtue of their position--the advisers of the government on all questions connected with the sea fisheries of great britain. these fisheries are nominally under the board of trade, but, as this board at that time had no machinery at its disposal for the purpose, it naturally relied on the advice of the home office inspectors in all questions of difficulty, on which their experience enabled them to speak with authority. for duties such as these, which have been thus briefly described, professor huxley had obvious qualifications. on all subjects relating to the natural history of fish he spoke with decisive authority. but, in addition to his scientific attainments, from to he had been a member of the commission which had conducted an elaborate investigation into the condition of the fisheries of the united kingdom, and had taken a large share in the preparation of a report, which--notwithstanding recent changes in law and policy--remains the ablest and most exhaustive doctrine which has ever been laid before parliament on the subject. this protracted investigation had convinced professor huxley that the supply of fish in the deep sea was practically inexhaustible; and that, however much it might be necessary to enforce the police of the seas by protecting particular classes of sea fishermen from injury done to their instruments by the operations of other classes, the primary duty of the legislature was to develop sea fishing, and not to place restrictions on sea fishermen for any fears of an exhaustion of fish. his scientific training, moreover, made him ridicule the modern notion that it was possible to stock the sea by artificial methods. he wrote to me, when the fisheries exhibition of was in contemplation,] "you may have seen that we have a new fish culture society. c-- talked gravely about our stocking the north sea with cod! after that i suppose we shall take up herrings: and i mean to propose whales, which, as all the world knows, are terribly over fished!" [and after the exhibition was over he wrote to me again, with reference to a report which the commission had asked me to draw up: ["i have just finished reading your report, which has given me a world of satisfaction...i am particularly glad that you have put in a word of warning to the fish culturists." [when i was asked to write the report on this commission, i said that i would do so if sir e. birkbeck, its chairman, and professor huxley, both met me to discuss the points to be noticed. the meeting duly took place: and i opened it by asking what was the chief lesson to be drawn from the exhibition?] "well," [said professor huxley,] "the chief lesson to be drawn from the exhibition is that london is in want of some open air amusement on summer evenings." [he was not, however, equally certain that particular areas of sea shore might not be exhausted by our fishing. he extended in an order which mr. buckland and i had made in for restricting the taking of crabs and lobsters on the coast of norfolk, and he wrote to me on that occasion:] "i was at cromer and sheringham last week, holding an inquiry for the board of trade about the working of your order of . according to all accounts, the crabs have multiplied threefold in and . whether this is post hoc or propter hoc is more than i should like to say. but at any rate, this is a very good prima facie case for continuing the order, and i shall report accordingly. anyhow, the conditions are very favourable for a long-continued experiment in the effects of regulation, and, ten years hence, there will be some means of judging of the value of these restrictions." [if, however, professor huxley was strongly opposed to unnecessary interference with the labours of sea fishermen, he was well aware of the necessity of protecting migratory fish like salmon, against over-fishing: and his reports for and --in which he gave elaborate accounts of the results of legislation on the tyne and on the severn--show that he keenly appreciated the necessity of regulating the salmon fisheries. it so happened that at the time of his appointment, many of our important rivers were visited by "saprolegnia ferax," the fungoid growth which became popularly known as salmon disease. professor huxley gave much time to the study of the conditions under which the fungus flourished: he devoted much space in his earlier reports to the subject: and he read a paper upon it at a remarkable meeting of the royal society in the summer of . he took a keen interest in these investigations, and he wrote to me from north wales, at the end of ,] "the salmon brought to me here have not been so badly diseased as i could have wished, and the fungus dies so rapidly out of the water that only one specimen furnished me with materials in lively condition. these i have cultivated: and to my great satisfaction have got some flies infected. with nine precious muscoid corpses, more or less ornamented with a lovely fur trimming of saprolegnia, i shall return to london to-morrow, and shall be ready in a short time, i hope, to furnish salmon disease wholesale, retail, or for exportation." [in carrying out the duties of our office, professor huxley and i were necessarily thrown into very close communication. there were few days in which we did not pass some time in each other's company: there were many weeks in which we travelled together through the river basins of this country. i think that i am justified in saying that official intercourse ripened into warm personal friendship, and that, for the many months in which we served together, we lived on terms of intimacy which are rare among colleagues or even among friends. it is needless to say that, as a companion, professor huxley was the most delightful of men. those who have met him in society, or enjoyed the hospitality of his house, must have been conscious of the singular charm of a conversation, which was founded on knowledge, enlarged by memory, and brightened by humour. but, admirable as he was in society, no one could have realised the full charm of his company who had not conversed with him alone. he had the rare art of placing men, whose knowledge and intellect were inferior to his own, at their ease. he knew how to draw out all that was best in the companion who suited him; and he had equal pleasure in giving and receiving. our conversation ranged over every subject. we discussed together the grave problems of man and his destiny; we disputed on the minor complications of modern politics; we criticised one another's literary judgments; and we laughed over the stories which we told one another, and of which professor huxley had an inexhaustible fund. in conversation professor huxley displayed the quality which distinguished him both as a writer and a public speaker. he invariably used the right words in the right sense. those who are jointly responsible--as he and i were often jointly responsible--for some written document, have exceptional opportunities of observing this quality. professor huxley could always put his finger on a wrong word, and he always instinctively chose the right one. it was this qualification--a much rarer one than people imagine--which made professor huxley's essays clear to the meanest understanding, and which made him, in my judgment, the greatest master of prose of his time. the same quality was equally observable in his spoken speech. i happened to be present at the anniversary dinner of the royal society, at which professor huxley made his last speech. and, as he gave an admirable account of the share which he had taken in defending mr. darwin against his critics, i overheard the present prime minister (lord salisbury.) say, "what a beautiful speaker he is." in , the duties of another appointment forced me to resign the inspectorship, which i had held for so long: and thenceforward my residence in the isle of man gave me fewer opportunities of seeing professor huxley: our friendship, however, remained unbroken; and occasional visits to london gave me many opportunities of renewing it. he retained his own appointment as inspector for more than three years after my resignation. he served, during the closing months of his officialship, on a royal commission on trawling, over which the late lord dalhousie presided. but his health broke down before the commissioners issued their report, and he was ordered abroad. it so happened that in the spring of i was staying at florence, when professor and mrs. huxley passed through it on their way home. he had at that time seen none of his old friends, and was only slowly regaining strength. after his severe illness mrs. huxley encouraged me to take him out for many short walks, and i did my best to cheer him in his depressed condition. he did not then think that he had ten years of--on the whole--happy life before him. he told me that he was about to retire from all his work, and he added, that he had never enjoyed the inspectorship after i had left it. i am happy in believing that the remark was due to the depression from which he was suffering, for he had written to me two years ago,] "the office would be quite perfect, if they did not want an annual report. i can't go in for a disquisition on river basins after the manner of buckland, and you have exhausted the other topics. i polished off the salmon disease pretty fully last year, so what the deuce am i to write about?" [i saw professor huxley for the last time on the christmas day before his death. i spent some hours with him, with no other companions than mrs. huxley and my daughter. i had never seen him brighter or happier, and his rich, playful and sympathetic talk vividly recalled the many brilliant hours which i had passed in his company some twelve or thirteen years before. one word more. no one could have known professor huxley intimately without recognising that he delighted in combat. he was never happier than when he was engaged in argument or controversy, and he loved to select antagonists worthy of his steel. the first public inquiry which we held together was attended by a great nobleman, whom professor huxley did not know by sight, but who rose at the commencement of our proceedings to offer some suggestions. professor huxley directed him to sit down, and not interrupt the business. i told my colleague in a whisper whom he was interrupting. and i was amused, as we walked away to luncheon together, by his quaint remark to me,] "we have begun very well, we have sat upon a duke." [(of this he wrote home on march , :] "somebody produced the 'punch' yesterday and showed it to me, to the great satisfaction of the duke of --, who has attended our two meetings. i nearly had a shindy with him at starting, but sweetness and light (in my person) carried the day." [this "punch" contained the cartoon of huxley in nautical costume riding on a salmon; contrary to the custom of "punch," it made an unfair hit in appending to his name the letters l.s.d. (pounds, shillings and pence.) never was any one who deserved the imputation less.) if, however, a love of argument and controversy occasionally led him into hot water, i do not think that his polemical tendencies ever cost him a friend. his antagonists must have recognised the fairness of his methods, and must have been susceptible to the charm of the man. the high example which he set in controversy, moreover, was equally visible in his ordinary life. of all the men i have ever known, his ideas and his standard were--on the whole--the highest. he recognised that the fact of his religious views imposed on him the duty of living the most upright of lives, and i am very much of the opinion of a little child, now grown into an accomplished woman, who, when she was told that professor huxley had no hope of future rewards, and no fear of future punishments, emphatically declared: "then i think professor huxley is the best man i have ever known." extracts from his letters home give some further idea of the kind of work entailed. thus in march and again in may he was in wales, and writes:--] cromffyratellionptrroch, may . mr. barrington's very pretty place about five miles from abergavenny, wherein i write, may or may not have the name which i have written on at the top of the page, as it is welsh; however it is probably that or something like it. i forgot to inquire. we are having the loveliest weather, and yesterday went looking up weirs with more or less absurd passes up a charming valley not far hence. it is just seven o'clock, and we are going to breakfast and start at eight to fit in with the tides of the severn. it is not exactly clear where we shall be to-night...now i must go to breakfast, for i got up at six. figurez vous ca. hereford, may . we are favoured by the weather again, though it is bitter cold under the bright sunshine. we stopped at worcester yesterday, and i went to examine some weirs hard by. this involved three or four miles' country walking, and was all to the good. if the inspector business were all of this sort it would be all that fancy painted it. we shall have a long sitting to-day...[(he fears to be detained into the night by "over-fluent witnesses.") in april he spent several days at norwich, in connection with the national fishery exhibition held there.] april . we had a gala day yesterday...the exhibition of all manner of fish and fishing apparatus was ready, for a wonder, and looked very well. the prince and princess arrived, and we had the usual address and reply and march through. afterwards a mighty dejeuner in the st. andrew's hall--a fine old place looking its best. i was just opposite the princess, and i could not help looking at her with wonderment. she looked so fresh and girlish. she came and talked to me afterwards in a very pleasant simple way. walpole and i went in with our host yesterday afternoon and started to return on the understanding that he should pick us up a few miles out. of course we took the wrong road, and walked all the way, some eight miles or so. however, it did us good, and after a champagne lunch we thought we could not do better than repeat the operation yesterday. i feel quite set up by finding that after standing about for hours i can walk eight miles without any particular fatigue. life in the old dog yet! walpole is a capital companion--knows a great many things, and talks well about them, so we get over the ground pleasantly. april . there was a long day of it yesterday looking over things in the exhibition till late in the afternoon, and then a mighty dinner in st. andrew's hall given by a piscatorial society of which my host is president. it was a weary sitting of five hours with innumerable speeches. of course i had to say "a few words," and if i can get a copy of the papers i will send them to you. i flatter myself they were words of wisdom, though hardly likely to contribute to my popularity among the fishermen. [on the st he gave an address on the herring. to describe the characteristics of this fish in the eastern counties, he says, might seem like carrying coals to newcastle; nevertheless the fisherman's knowledge is not the same as that of the man of science, and includes none but the vaguest notions of the ways of life of the fish and the singularities of its organisation which perplexed biologists. his own study of the problems connected with the herring had begun nineteen years before, when he served on the first of his two fishery commissions; and one of his chief objects in this address was to insist upon a fact, borne out partly by the inquiries of the commission, partly by later investigations in europe and america, which it was difficult to make people appreciate, namely, the impossibility of man's fisheries affecting the numbers of the herring to any appreciable extent, a year's catch not amounting to the estimated number of a single shoal; while the flatfish and cod fisheries remove many of the most destructive enemies of the herring. those who had not studied the question in this light would say that "it stands to reason" that vast fisheries must tend to exterminate the fish; apropos of which, he made his well-known remark, that in questions of biology] "if any one tells me 'it stands to reason' that such and such things must happen, i generally find reason to doubt the safety of his standing." [this year, also, he began the investigations which completed former inquiries into the subject, and finally elucidated the nature of the salmon disease. the last link in the chain of evidence which proved its identity with a fungoid disease of flies, was not reached until march ; and on july following he delivered a full account of the disease, its nature and origin, in an address at the fisheries exhibition in london. in , then, at the end of december, he went to north wales to study on the fresh fish the nature of the epidemic of salmon disease which had broken out in the conway, in spite of being in such bad health that he was persuaded to let his younger son come and look after him. but this was only a passing premonition of the breakdown which was to come upon him three years after. one year's work as inspector was very like another. in , for instance, on january , he is at berwick, "voiceless but jolly"; in the spring he had to attend a fisheries exhibition in edinburgh, and writes:--] april . we have opened our exhibition, and i have been standing about looking at the contents until my back is broken. april . the weather here is villainous--a regular edinburgh "coorse day." i have seen all i wanted to see of the exhibition, eaten two heavy dinners, one with primrose and one with young, and want to get home. walpole and i are dining domestically at home this evening, having virtuously refused all invitations. [in june he was in hampshire; on july he writes from tynemouth:--] i reached here about o'clock, and found the bailiff or whatever they call him of the board of conservators, awaiting me with a boat at my disposal. so we went off to look at what they call "the playground"--two bays in which the salmon coming from the sea rest and disport themselves until a fresh comes down the river and they find it convenient to ascend. harbottle bailiff in question is greatly disturbed at the amount of poaching that goes on in the playground, and unfolded his griefs to me at length. it was a lovely evening, very calm, and i enjoyed my boat expedition. to-morrow there is to be another to see the operations of a steam trawler, which in all probability i shall not enjoy so much. i shall take a light breakfast. [these were the pleasanter parts of the work. the less pleasant was sitting all day in a crowded court, hearing a disputed case of fishing rights, or examining witnesses who stuck firmly to views about fish which had long been exploded by careful observation. but on the whole he enjoyed it, although it took him away from research in other departments. this summer, on the death of professor rolleston, he was sounded on the question whether he would consent to accept the linacre professorship of physiology at oxford. he wrote to the warden of merton:--] marlborough place, june , . my dear brodrick, many thanks for your letter. i can give you my reply at once, as my attention has already been called to the question you ask; and it is that i do not see my way to leaving london for oxford. my reasons for arriving at this conclusion are various. i am getting old, and you should have a man in full vigour. i doubt whether the psychical atmosphere of oxford would suit me, and still more, whether i should suit it after a life spent in the absolute freedom of london. and last, but by no means least, for a man with five children to launch into the world, the change would involve a most serious loss of income. no doubt there are great attractions on the other side; and, if i had been ten years younger, i should have been sorely tempted to go to oxford, if the university would have had me. but things being as they are, i do not see my way to any other conclusion than that which i have reached. [the same feeling finds expression in a letter to professor (afterwards sir william) flower, who was also approached on the same subject, and similarly determined to remain in london.] july , . my dear flower, i am by no means surprised, and except for the sake of the university, not sorry that you have renounced the linacre. life is like walking along a crowded street--there always seem to be fewer obstacles to getting along on the opposite pavement--and yet, if one crosses over, matters are rarely mended. i assure you it is a great comfort to me to think that you will stay in london and help in keeping things straight in this world of crookedness. i have thought a good deal about --, but it would never do. no one could value his excellent qualities of all kinds, and real genius in some directions, more than i do; but, in my judgment, nobody could be less fitted to do the work which ought to be done in oxford--i mean to give biological science a status in the eyes of the dons, and to force them to acknowledge it as a part of general education. moreover, his knowledge, vast and minute as it is in some directions, is very imperfect in others, and the attempt to qualify himself for the post would take him away from the investigations, which are his delight and for which he is specially fitted... i was very much interested in your account of the poor dear dean's illness. i called on thursday morning, meeting jowett and grove at the door, and we went in and heard such an account of his state that i had hopes he might pull through. we shall not see his like again. the last time i had a long talk with him was about the proposal to bury george eliot in the abbey, and a curious revelation of the extraordinary catholicity and undaunted courage of the man it was. he would have done it had it been pressed upon him by a strong representation. i see he is to be buried on monday, and i suppose and hope i shall have the opportunity of attending. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this letter refers to the death of his old friend dean stanley. the dean had long kept in touch with the leaders of scientific thought, and it is deeply interesting to know that on her death-bed, five years before, his wife said to him as one of her parting counsels, "do not lose sight of the men of science, and do not let them lose sight of you." "and then," writes stanley to tyndall, "she named yourself and huxley." strangely enough, the death of the dean involved another invitation to huxley to quit london for oxford. by the appointment of dean bradley to westminster, the mastership of university college was left vacant. huxley, who was so far connected with the college that he had examined there for a science fellowship, was asked if he would accept it, but after careful consideration declined. he writes to his son, who had heard rumours of the affair in oxford:--] marlborough place, november , . my dear lens, there is truth in the rumour; in so far as this that i was asked if i would allow myself to be nominated for the mastership of university, that i took the question into serious consideration and finally declined. but i was asked to consider the communication made to me confidential, and i observed the condition strictly. the leakage must have taken place among my oxford friends, and is their responsibility, but at the same time i would rather you did not contribute to the rumour on the subject. of course i should have told you if i had not been bound to reticence. i was greatly tempted for a short time by the prospect of rest, but when i came to look into the matter closely there were many disadvantages. i do not think i am cut out for a don nor your mother for a donness--we have had thirty years' freedom in london, and are too old to put in harness. moreover, in a monetary sense i should have lost rather than gained. my astonishment at the proposal was unfeigned, and i begin to think i may yet be a bishop. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [his other occupations this year were the medical acts commission, which sat until the following year, and the international medical congress. the congress detained him in london this summer later than usual. it lasted from the rd to the th of august, on which day he delivered a concluding address on "the connection of the biological sciences with medicine" ("collected essays" page ). he showed how medicine was gradually raised from mere empiricism and based upon true pathological principles, through the independent growth of physiological knowledge, and its correlation to chemistry and physics.] "it is a peculiarity," [he remarks,] "of the physical sciences that they are independent in proportion as they are imperfect." [yet] "there could be no real science of pathology until the science of physiology had reached a degree of perfection unattained, and indeed unattainable, until quite recent times." [historically speaking, modern physiology, he pointed out, began with descartes' attempt to explain bodily phenomena on purely physical principles; but the cartesian notion of one controlling central mechanism had to give way before the proof of varied activities residing in various tissues, until the cell-theory united something of either view. "the body is a machine of the nature of an army, not that of a watch or of a hydraulic apparatus." on this analogy, diseases are derangements either of the physiological units of the body, or of their coordinating machinery: and the future of medicine depends on exact knowledge of these derangements and of the precise alteration of the conditions by the administration of drugs or other treatment, which will redress those derangements without disturbing the rest of the body. a few extracts from letters to his wife describe his occupation at the congress, which involved too much "society" for his liking.] august . the congress began with great eclat yesterday, and the latter part of paget's address was particularly fine. after, there was the lunch at the paget's with the two royalties. after that, an address by virchow. after that, dinner at sanderson's, with a confused splutter of german to the neighbours on my right. after that a tremendous soiree at south kensington, from which i escaped as soon as i could, and got home at midnight. there is a confounded lord mayor's dinner this evening ("the usual turtle and speeches to the infinite bewilderment and delight of the foreigners," august ), and to-morrow a dinner at the physiological society. but i have got off the kew party, and mean to go quietly down to the spottiswoodes [i.e. at sevenoaks] on saturday afternoon, and get out of the way of everything except the college of surgeons' soiree, till tuesday. commend me for my prudence. [on the th he was busy all day with government committees, only returning to correct proofs of his address before the social functions of the evening. next morning he writes:--] i have been toiling at my address this morning. it is all printed, but i must turn it inside out, and make a speech of it if i am to make any impression on the audience in st. james' hall. confound all such bobberies. august . i got through my address to-day as well as i ever did anything. there was a large audience, as it was the final meeting of the congress, and to my surprise i found myself in excellent voice and vigour. so there is life in the old dog yet. but i am greatly relieved it is over, as i have been getting rather shaky. [when the medical congress was over, he joined his family at grasmere for the rest of august. in september he attended the british association at york, where he read a paper on the "rise and progress of palaeontology," and ended the month with fishery business at aberystwith and carmarthen. the above paper is to be found in "collected essays," page . in it he concludes an historical survey of the views held about fossils by a comparison of the opposite hypothesis upon which the vast store of recently accumulated facts may be interpreted; and declaring for the hypothesis of evolution, repeats the remarkable words of the "coming of age of the origin of species," that] "the paleontological discoveries of the last decade are so completely in accordance with the requirements of this hypothesis that, if it had not existed, the paleontologist would have had to invent it." [in february died thomas carlyle. mention has already been made of the influence of his writings upon huxley in strengthening and fixing once for all, at the very outset of his career, that hatred of shams and love of veracity, which were to be the chief principle of his whole life. it was an obligation he never forgot, and for this, if for nothing else, he was ready to join in a memorial to the man. in reply to a request for his support in so doing, he wrote to lord stanley of alderley on march :--] anything i can do to help in raising a memorial to carlyle shall be most willingly done. few men can have dissented more strongly from his way of looking at things than i; but i should not yield to the most devoted of his followers in gratitude for the bracing wholesome influence of his writings when, as a very young man, i was essaying without rudder or compass to strike out a course for myself. [mention has already been made of his ill-health at the end of the year, which was perhaps a premonition of the breakdown of . an indication of the same kind may be found in the following letter to mrs. tyndall, who had forwarded a document which dr. tyndall had meant to send himself with an explanatory note.] marlborough place, march , . my dear mrs. tyndall, but where is his last note to me? that is the question on which i have been anxiously hoping for light since i received yours and the enclosure, which contains such a very sensible proposition that i should like to know how it came into existence, abiogenetically or otherwise. as i am by way of forgetting everything myself just now, it is a comfort to me to believe that tyndall has forgotten he forgot to send the letter of which he forgot the inclosure. the force of disremembering could no further go. in affectionate bewilderment, ever yours, t.h. huxley. [his general view of his health, however, was much more optimistic, as appears from a letter to mrs. may (wife of the friend of his boyhood) about her son, whose strength had been sapped by typhoid fever, and who had gone out to the cape to recruit.] marlborough place, june , . my dear mrs. may, i promised your daughter the other day that i would send you the bishop of natal's letter to me. unfortunately i had mislaid it, and it only turned up just now when i was making one of my periodical clearances in the chaos of papers that accumulates on my table. you will be pleased to see how fully the good bishop appreciates stuart's excellent qualities, and as to the physical part of the business, though it is sad enough that a young man should be impeded in this way, i think you should be hopeful. delicate young people often turn out strong old people--i was a thread paper of a boy myself, and now i am an extremely tough old personage... with our united kind regards to mr. may and yourself, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [perhaps if he had been able each year to carry out the wish expressed in the following letter, which covered an introduction to dr. tyndall at his house on the bel alp, the breakdown of might have been averted.] marlborough place, london, n.w., july [ ?]. my dear skelton, it is a great deal more than i would say for everybody, but i am sure tyndall will be very much obliged to me for making you known to him; and if you, insignificant male creature, how very much more for the opportunity of knowing mrs. skelton! for which last pretty speech i hope the lady will make a prettier curtsey. so go boldly across the aletsch, and if they have a knocker (which i doubt), knock and it shall be opened unto you. i wish i were going to be there too; but royal commissions are a kind of endemic in my constitution, and i have a very bad one just now. [the medical acts commission - .] with kind remembrances to mrs. skelton, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the ecclesiastical sound of his new title of dean of the college of science afforded him a good deal of amusement. he writes from grasmere, where he had joined his family for the summer vacation:--] august , . my dear donnelly, i am astonished that you don't known that a letter to a dean ought to be addressed "the very reverend." i don't generally stand much upon etiquette, but when my sacred character is touched i draw the line. we had athletics here yesterday, and as it was a lovely day, all cumberland and westmoreland sent contingents to see the fun... this would be a grand place if it were drier, but the rain it raineth every day--yesterday being the only really fine day since our arrival. however, we all thrive, so i suppose we are adapting ourselves to the medium, and shall be scaly and finny before long. haven't you done with babylon yet? it is high time you were out of it. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the year was a dark year for english science. it was marked by the death of both charles darwin and of francis balfour, the young investigator, of whom huxley once said,] "he is the only man who can carry out my work." [the one was the inevitable end of a great career, in the fulness of time; the other was one of those losses which are the more deplorable as they seem unnecessary, the result of a chance slip, in all the vigour of youth. i remember his coming to our house just before setting out on his fatal visit to switzerland, and my mother begging him to be careful about risking so valuable a life as his in dangerous ascents. he laughingly replied that he only wanted to conquer one little peak on montblanc. a few days later came the news of his fatal fall upon the precipices of the aiguille blanche. since the death of edward forbes, no loss outside the circle of his family had affected my father so deeply. for three days he was utterly prostrated, and was scarcely able either to eat or sleep. there was indeed a subtle affinity between the two men. my mother, who was greatly attached to francis balfour, said once to sir m. foster, "he has not got the dash and verve, but otherwise he reminds me curiously of what my husband was in his 'rattlesnake' days." "how strange," replied sir michael, "when he first came to the front, lankester wrote asking me, 'who is this man balfour you are always talking about?' and i answered, 'well, i can only describe him by saying he is a younger huxley.'" writing to dr. dohrn on september , huxley says:--] heavy blows have fallen upon me this year in losing darwin and balfour, the best of the old and the best of the young. i am beginning to feel older than my age myself, and if balfour had lived i should have cleared out of the way as soon as possible, feeling that the future of zoological science in this country was very safe in his hands. as it is, i am afraid i may still be of use for some years, and shall be unable to sing my "nunc dimittis" with a good conscience.] darwin was in correspondence with him till quite near the end; having received the volume "science and culture," he wrote on january , :-- with respect to automatism (the allusion is to the address on "animals as automata," which was reprinted in "science and culture."), i wish that you could review yourself in the old, and, of course, forgotten, trenchant style, and then you would have to answer yourself with equal incisiveness; and thus, by jove, you might go on ad infinitum to the joy and instruction of the world. and again on march :-- your most kind letter has been a real cordial to me...once again accept my cordial thanks, my dear old friend. i wish to god there were more automata in the world like you. darwin died on april , and a brief notice being required for the forthcoming number of "nature" on the th, huxley made shift to write a brief article, which is printed in the "collected essays" page . but as neither he nor sir joseph hooker could at the moment undertake a regular obituary notice, this was entrusted to professor romanes, to whom the following letters were written.] marlborough place, april , . my dear romanes, thank you for your hearty letter. i spent many hours over the few paragraphs i sent to "nature," in trying to express what all who thoroughly knew and therefore loved darwin, must feel in language which should be absolutely free from rhetoric or exaggeration. i have done my best, and the sad thing is that i cannot look for those cheery notes he used to send me in old times, when i had written anything that pleased him. in case we should miss one another to-day, let me say that it is impossible for me to undertake the obituary in "nature." i have a conglomeration of business of various kinds upon my hands just now. i am sure it will be very safe in your hands. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. pray do what you will with what i have written in "nature." marlborough place, may , . my dear romanes, i feel it very difficult to offer any useful criticism on what you have written about darwin, because, although it does not quite please me, i cannot exactly say how i think it might be improved. my own way is to write and rewrite things, until by some sort of instinctive process they acquire the condensation and symmetry which satisfies me. and i really could not say how my original drafts are improved until they somehow improve themselves. two things however strike me. i think there is too much of the letter about henslow. i should be disposed to quote only the most characteristic passages. the other point is that i think strength would be given to your panegyric by a little pruning here and there. i am not likely to take a low view of darwin's position in the history of science, but i am disposed to think that buffon and lamarck would run him hard in both genius and fertility. in breadth of view and in extent of knowledge these two men were giants, though we are apt to forget their services. von baer was another man of the same stamp; cuvier, in a somewhat lower rank, another; and j. muller another. "colossal" does not seem to me to be the right epithet for darwin's intellect. he had a clear rapid intelligence, a great memory, a vivid imagination, and what made his greatness was the strict subordination of all these to his love of truth. but you will be tired of my carping, and you had much better write what seems right and just to yourself. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [two scientific papers published this year were on subjects connected with his work on the fisheries, one "a contribution to the pathology of the epidemic known as the 'salmon disease'" read before the royal society on the occasion of the prince of wales being admitted a fellow (february ; "proceedings of the royal society" pages - ); the other on "saprolegnia in relation to the salmon disease" ("quarterly journal of microscopical science" pages - ). a third, at the zoological society, was on the "respiratory organs of apteryx" ("proceedings of the zoological society" pages - ). he delivered an address before the liverpool institution on "science and art in relation to education" ("collected essays" page ), and was busy with the medical acts commission, which reported this year. the aim of this commission was to level up the varying qualifications bestowed by nearly a score of different licensing bodies in the united kingdom, and to establish some central control by the state over the licensing of medical practitioners. (for a fuller account of this commission and the part played in it by huxley, see his "state and medical education" ("collected essays" ) published .) the report recommended the establishment of boards in each division of the united kingdom containing representatives of all the medical bodies in the division. these boards would register students, and admit to a final examination those who had passed the preliminary and minor examinations at the various universities and other bodies already granting degrees and qualifications. candidates who passed this final examination would be licensed by the general medical council, a body to be elected no longer by the separate bodies interested in medical education, but by the divisional boards. the report rejected a scheme for joint examination by the existing bodies, assisted by outside examiners appointed by a central authority, on the ground of difficulty and expense, as well as one for a separate state examination. it also provided for compensation from the fees to be paid by the candidates to existing bodies whose revenues might suffer from the new scheme. to this majority report, six of the eleven commissioners appended separate reports, suggesting other methods for carrying out the desired end. among the latter was huxley, who gave his reasons for dissenting from the principle assumed by his colleagues, though he had signed the main report as embodying the best means of carrying out a reform, that principle being granted.] "the state examination" [he thought,] "was ideally best, but for many reasons impossible." [but the] "conjoint scheme" [recommended in the report appeared to punish the efficient medical authorities for the abuses of the inefficient. moreover, if the examiners of the divisional board did not affiliate themselves to any medical authority, the compensation to be provided would be very heavy; if they did,] "either they will affiliate without further examination, which will give them the pretence of a further qualification, without any corresponding reality, or they will affiliate in examination, in which case the new examination deprecated by the general voice of the profession will be added, and any real difference between the plan proposed and the 'state examination' scheme will vanish." [the compensation proposed too, would chiefly fall to the discredited bodies, who had neglected their duties.] the scheme [he writes in his report], which i ventured to suggest is of extreme simplicity; and while i cannot but think that it would prove thoroughly efficient, it interferes with no fair vested interest in such a manner as to give a claim for compensation, and it inflicts no burden either in the way of taxation or extra examination on the medical profession. this proposal is, that if any examining body satisfies the medical council (or other state authority), that it requires full and efficient instruction and examination in the three branches of medicine, surgery, and midwifery; and if it admits a certain number of coadjutor examiners appointed by the state authority, the certificate of that authority shall give admission to the medical register. i submit that while the adopting this proposal would secure a practically uniform minimum standard of examination, it would leave free play to the individuality of the various existing or future universities and medical corporations; that the revenues of such bodies derived from medical examinations would thenceforth increase or diminish in the ratio of their deserts; that a really efficient inspection of the examinations would be secured, and that no one could come upon the register without a complete qualification. [that there was no difficulty in this scheme was shown by the experience of the scotch universities; and the expense would be less than the proposed compensation tax. the chief part of the summer vacation huxley spent at lynton, on the north coast of devonshire.] "the happy family," [he writes to dr. dohrn,] "has been spending its vacation in this pretty place, eighteen miles of up hill and down dale from any railway." [it was a country made for the long rambles he delighted in after the morning's due allowance of writing. and although he generally preferred complete quiet on his holidays, with perfect freedom from all social exigencies, these weeks of rest were rendered all the pleasanter by the unstudied and unexacting friendliness of the family party which centred around mr. and mrs. f. bailey of lee abbey hard by--lady tenterden, the julius and the henry pollocks, the latter old friends of ours. though his holiday was curtailed at either end, he was greatly set up by it, and writes to chaff his son-in-law for taking too little rest:--] i was glad to hear that f. had stood his fortnight's holiday so well; three weeks might have knocked him up! [on the same day, september , he wrote the letter to dr. dohrn, mentioned above, answering two inquiries--one as to arrangements for exhibiting at the fisheries exhibition to be held in london the following year, the other as to whether england would follow the example of germany and italy in sending naval officers to the zoological station at naples to be instructed in catching and preserving marine animals for the purposes of scientific research. [with respect to question number , i am afraid my answer must be less hopeful. so far as the british admiralty is represented by the ordinary british admiral, the only reply to such a proposition as you make that i should expect would be that he (the british admiral, to wit) would see you d--d first. however, i will speak of the matter to the hydrographer, who really is interested in science, at the first opportunity. [for many years before this, and until the end of his life, there was another side to his correspondence which deserves mention. i wish that more of the queer letters, which arrived in never-failing streams, had been preserved. a favourite type was the anonymous letter. it prayed fervently, over four pages, that the almighty would send him down quick into the pit, and was usually signed simply "a lady." others came from cranks of every species: the man who demonstrated that the world was flat, or that the atmosphere had no weight--an easy proof, for you weigh a bottle full of air; then break it to pieces, so that it holds nothing; weigh the pieces, and they are the same weight as the whole bottle full of air! or, again, that the optical law of quality between the angle of incidence and the angle of reflection is a delusion, whence it follows that all our established latitudes are incorrect, and the difference of temperature between labrador and ireland, nominally on the same parallel, is easily accounted for. then came the suggestions of little pieces of work that might so easily be undertaken by a man of huxley's capacity, learning, and energy. enormous manuscripts were sent him with a request that he would write a careful criticism of them, and arrange for their publication in the proceedings of some learned society or first-rate magazine. one of the most delightful came this year. a doctor in india, having just read "john inglesant," begged professor huxley to do for science what mr. shorthouse had done for the church of england. as for the material difficulties in the way of getting such a book written in the midst of other work, the ingenious doctor suggested the use of a phonograph driven by a gas-engine. the great thoughts dictated into it from the comfort of an armchair, could easily be worked up into novel shape by a collaborator. india, again, provided the following application of , made in all seriousness by a youthful punjaubee with scientific aspirations, who feared to be forced into the law. after an intimate account of his life, he modestly appeals for a post in some scientific institution, where he may get his food, do experiments three or four hours a day, and learn english. latterly his mental activity had been very great:--"i have been contemplating," he says, "to give a new system of political economy to the world. i have questioned, perhaps with success, the validity of some of the fundamental doctrines of herbert spencer's synthetic philosophy," and so on. another remarkable communication is a reply-paid telegram from the states, in , which ran as follows:-- unless all reason and all nature have deceived me, i have found the truth. it is my intention to cross the ocean to consult with those who have helped me most to find it. shall i be welcome? please answer at my expense, and god grant we all meet in life on earth. another, of british origin this time, was from a man who had to read a paper before a local literary society on the momentous question, "where are we?" so he sent round a circular to various authorities to reinforce his own opinions on the six heads into which he proposed to divide his discourse, namely: where are we in space? where are we in science? where are we in politics? where are we in commerce? where are we in sociology? where are we in theology? the writer received an answer, and a mild one:--] any adequate reply to your inquiry would be of the nature of a treatise, and that, i regret, i cannot undertake to write. [two letters of this year touch on irish affairs, in which he was always interested, having withal a certain first-hand knowledge of the people and the country they lived in, from his visits there, both as a fishery commissioner and on other occasions. he writes warmly to the historian who treated of ireland without prejudice or rancour.] marlborough place, april , . my dear lecky, accept my best thanks for your two volumes, which i found on my return from scotland yesterday. i can give no better evidence of my appreciation of their contents than by the confession that they have caused me to neglect my proper business all yesterday evening and all to-day. the section devoted to irish affairs is a model of lucidity, and bears on its face the stamp of justice and fair dealing. it is a most worthy continuation of the chapter on the same subject in the first volume, and that is giving high praise. you see i write as if i knew something about the subject, but you are responsible for creating the delusion. with kindest remembrances to mrs. lecky, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a few weeks later, the murder of lord frederick cavendish sent a thrill of horror throughout england. huxley was as deeply moved as any, but wrote calmly of the situation. to his eldest son:--] marlborough place, may , . my dear leonard, best thanks for your good wishes [for his birthday, may .]. notwithstanding the disease of a.d., which always proves mortal sooner or later, i am in excellent case... i knew both lord f. cavendish and his wife and mr. burke. i have never been able to get poor lady frederick out of my head since the news arrived. the public mind has been more stirred than by anything since the indian mutiny. but if the government keep their heads cool, great good may come out of the evil, horrible as it is. the fenians have reckoned on creating an irreparable breach between england and ireland. it should be our business to disappoint them first and extirpate them afterwards. but the newspaper writers make me sick, especially the "times". ever your affectionate father, t.h. huxley. [it is interesting, also, to see how he appeared about this time to one of a younger generation, acute, indeed, and discriminating, but predisposed by circumstances and upbringing to regard him at first with curiosity rather than sympathy. for this account i am indebted to one who has the habit, so laudable in good hands, of keeping a journal of events and conversations. i have every confidence in the substantial accuracy of so well trained a reporter. extract from journal. november , . in the evening we dined at the --'s, chiefly a family party with the addition of professor huxley and his wife and ourselves. much lively conversation, after dinner, begun among the ladies, but continued after the gentlemen appeared, on the subjects of truth, education, and women's rights, or, more strictly speaking, women's capabilities. our hostess (lady --) was, if possible, more vehement and paradoxical than her wont, and vigorously maintained that truth was no virtue in itself, but must be inculcated for expediency's sake. the opposite view found a champion in professor huxley, who described himself as] "almost a fanatic for the sanctity of truth." [lady -- urged that truth was often a very selfish virtue, and that a man of noble and unselfish character might lie for the sake of a friend, to which some one replied that after a course of this unselfish lying the noble character was pretty sure to deteriorate, while the professor laughingly suggested that the owner had a good chance of finding himself landed ultimately in botany bay. the celebrated instance of john inglesant's perjury for the sake of charles i. was then brought forward, and it was this which led professor huxley to say that in his judgment no one had the right passively to submit to a false accusation, and that] "moral suicide" [was as blameworthy as physical suicide.] "he may refuse to commit another, but he ought not to allow himself to be believed worse than he actually is. it is a loss to the world of moral force, which cannot be afforded." [...then as regards women's powers. the professor said he did not believe in their ever succeeding in a competition with men. then he went on:--] "i can't help looking at women with something of the eye of a physiologist. twenty years ago i thought the womanhood of england was going to the dogs," [but now, he said, he observed a wonderful change for the better. we asked to what he attributed it. was it to lawn tennis and the greater variety of bodily exercises?] "partly," [he answered,] "but much more to their having more pursuits--more to interest them and to occupy their thoughts and time." [the following letter bears upon the question of employing retired engineer officers in administrative posts in the science and art department:--] the rookery, lynton, september , . my dear donnelly, your letter seems to have arrived here the very day i left for whitby, whither i had to betake myself to inspect a weir, so i did not get it until my return last night. i am extremely sorry to hear of the possibility of martin's giving up his post. he took so much interest in the work and was so very pleasant to deal with, that i do not think we shall easily find any one to replace him. if you will find another r.e. at all like him, in heaven's name catch him and put him in, job or no job. the objection to a small clerk is that we want somebody who knows how to deal with men, and especially young men on the one hand, and especially cantankerous (more or less) old scientific buffers on the other. the objection to a man of science is that ( ) we want a man of business and not a m.s., and ( ) that no man scientifically worth having that i know of is likely to take such an office. "as at present advised" i am all for an r.e., so i cannot have the pleasure even of trying to convert you. with our united kindest regards, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i return next monday. [two letters of thanks follow, one at the beginning of the year to mr. herbert spencer for the gift of a very fine photograph of himself; the other, at the end of the year, to mr. (afterwards sir john) skelton, for his book on mary queen of scots and the casket letters. as to the former, it must be premised that mr. spencer abhorred exaggeration and inexact talk, and would ruthlessly prick the airy bubbles which endued the conversation of the daughters of the house with more buoyancy than strict logic, a gift which, he averred, was denied to woman.] marlborough place, january , . my dear spencer, best thanks for the photograph. it is very good, though there is just a touch of severity in the eye. we shall hang it up in the dining-room, and if anybody is guilty of exaggerated expressions or bad logic (five womenkind habitually sit round that table), i trust they will feel that that eye is upon them. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, january , . my dear skelton, if i may not thank you for the book you have been kind enough to send me, i may at any rate wish you and mrs. skelton a happy new year and many on 'em. i am going to read your vindication of mary stuart as soon as i can. hitherto i am sorry to say i have classed her with eve, helen, cleopatra, delilah, and sundry other glorious --s who have lured men to their destruction. but i am open to conviction, and ready to believe that she blew up her husband only a little more thoroughly than other women do, by reason of her keener perception of logic. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the pressure of official work, which had been constantly growing since , reached its highest point in . only one scientific memoir was published by him this year, and then no more for the next four years. (contributions to morphology, ichthyopsida, number . on the oviducts of osmerus; with remarks on the relations of the teleostean with the ganoid fishes "proceedings of the zoological society" pages - ). the intervals of lecturing and examining were chiefly filled by fishery business, from which, according to his usual custom when immersed in any investigation, he chose the subject, "oysters and the oyster question," both for his friday evening discourse at the royal institution on may , and for his course to working men between january and february . there are the usual notes of all seasons at all parts of england. a deserted hotel at cromer in january was uninviting.] my windows look out on a wintry sea, and it is bitter cold. notwithstanding, a large number of the aquatic gentleman to whom i shall have the pleasure of listening, by and by, are loafing against the railings opposite, as only fishermen can loaf. [in april he had been ill, and his wife begged him to put off some business which had to be done at york. but unless absolutely ordered to bed by his doctor, nothing would induce him to put personal convenience before public duty. however, he took his son to look after him.] i am none the worse for my journey [he writes from york], rather the better; so clark is justified, and i should have failed in my duty if i had not come. h. looks after me almost as well as you could do. [to make amends, fishery business in the west country during a fine summer had] "a good deal of holiday in it," [though a cross journey at the beginning of august from abergavenny to totness made him write:--] if ever (except to-morrow, by the way) i travel within measurable distance of a bank holiday by the great western, may jackasses sit on my grandmother's grave. [as the business connected with the inspectorship had been enlarged in the preceding years by exhibitions at norwich and edinburgh, so it was enlarged this year, and to a still greater extent, by the fisheries exhibition in london. this involved upon him as commissioner, not only the organisation of the conference on fish diseases and the paper on the diseases of fish already mentioned, but administration, committee meetings, and more--a speech on behalf of the commissioners in reply to the welcome given them by the prince of wales at the opening of the exhibition. on the following day he expressed his feelings at this mode of spending his time in a letter to sir m. foster.] i am dog-tired with yesterday's function. had to be at the exhibition in full fig at a.m., and did not get home from the fishmongers' dinner till . this morning. will you tell me what all this has to do with my business in life, and why the last fragments of a misspent life that are left to me are to be frittered away in all this drivel? yours savagely, t.h. huxley. [later in the year, also, he had to serve on another fishery commission much against his will, though on the understanding that, in view of his other engagements, he need not attend all the sittings. a more satisfactory result of the exhibition was that he found himself brought into close contact with several of the great city companies, whose enormous resources he had long been trying, not without some success, to enlist on behalf of technical and scientific education. among these may be noted the fishmongers, the mercers, who had already interested themselves in technical education, and gave their hall for the meetings of the city and guilds council, of which huxley was an active member; the clothworkers, in whose schools he distributed the prizes this year; and, not least, the salters, who presented him with their freedom on november . their master, mr. j.w. clark, writing in august, after huxley had accepted their proposal, says: "i think you must admit that the city companies have yielded liberally to the gentle compassion you have exercised on them. so far from helping you to act the traitor, we propose to legitimise your claim for education, which several of us shall be willing to unite with you in promoting." (see above.) the crowning addition, however, to huxley's official work was the presidency of the royal society. he had resigned the secretaryship in , after holding office for nine years under three presidents--airy, hooker, and spottiswoode. spottiswoode, like hooker, was a member of the x club, and was regarded with great affection and respect by huxley, who in wrote of him to mr. john morley:--] it is quite absurd you don't know spottiswoode, and i shall do both him and you a good turn by bringing you together. he is one of my best friends, and comes under the a class of "people with whom you may go tiger-hunting." [on june , writing to professor (afterwards sir e.) frankland, he says:--] you will have heard that spottiswoode is seriously ill. the physicians suspect typhoid, but are not quite certain. i called this morning, and hear that he remains much as he has been for the last two or three days. so many of our friends have dropped away in the course of the last two years that i am perhaps morbidly anxious about spottiswoode, but there is no question that his condition is such as to cause grave anxiety. [but by the end of the month his fears were realised. consequently it devolved upon the council of the royal society to elect one of their own body to hold office until the st. andrew's day following, when a regular president would be elected at a general meeting of the society. huxley himself had no wish to stand. he writes to sir m. foster on june , announcing spottiswoode's death, which had taken place that morning:--] it is very grievous in all ways. only the other day he and i were talking of the almost miraculous way in which the x club had held together without a break for some years, and little did either of us suspect that he would be the first to go. a heavy responsibility falls on you in the royal society. it strikes me you will have to call another meeting of the council before the recess for the consideration of the question of the presidency. it is hateful to talk of these things, but i want you to form some notion of what had best be done as you come up to-morrow. -- is a possibility, but none of the other officers, i think. [indeed, he wished to diminish his official distractions rather than to increase them. his health was unlikely to stand any additional strain, and he longed to devote the remainder of his working years to his unfinished scientific researches. but he felt very strongly that the president of the royal society ought to be chosen for his eminence in science, not on account of social position, or of wealth, even though the wealth might have been acquired through the applications of science. the acknowledgment of this principle had led some years back to the great revolution from within, which succeeded in making the society the living centre and representative of science for the whole country, and he was above all things anxious that the principle should be maintained. he was assured, however, from several quarters that unless he allowed himself to be put forward, there was danger lest the principle should be disregarded. moved by these considerations of public necessity, he unwillingly consented to be nominated, but only to fill the vacancy till the general meeting, when the whole society could make a new choice. yet even this limitation seemed difficult to maintain in the face of the widely expressed desire that he would then stand for the usual period of five years.] "the worst of it is," [he wrote to sir m. foster on july ,] "that i see myself gravitating towards the presidency en permanence, that is to say, for the ordinary period. and that is what i by no means desired. -- has been at me (as a sort of deputation, he told me, from a lot of the younger men) to stand. however, i suppose there is no need to come to any decision yet." [the following letters, in reply to congratulations on his election, illustrate his attitude of mind in the affair:--] to the warden of merton. hindhead, july , . my dear brodrick, i do not get so many pleasant letters that i can afford to leave the senders of such things unthanked. i am very much obliged for your congratulations, and i may say that i accepted the office inter alia for the purpose of getting people to believe that such places may be properly held by people who have neither riches nor station--who want nothing that statesmen can give--and who care for nothing except upholding the dignity and the freedom of science. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. to sir w.h. flower, f.r.s. marlborough place, july , . my dear flower, i am overwhelmed by the kind letters i get from all sides, and i need hardly say that i particularly value yours. a month ago i said that i ought not, could not, and would not take the presidency under any circumstances whatever. my wife was dead against it, and you know how hen-pecked i am. even when i was asked to take the presidency to the end of the year and agreed, i stipulated for my freedom next st. andrew's day. but such strong representations were made to me by some of the younger men about the dangers of the situation, that at the last moment almost i changed my mind. however, i wanted it to be clearly understood that the council and the society are, so far as i am concerned, perfectly free to put somebody else in my place next november. all i stipulate for is that my successor shall be a man of science. i will not, if i can help it, allow the chair of the royal society to become the appanage of rich men, or have the noble old society exploited by enterprising commercial gents who make their profit out of the application of science. mrs. president was not pleased--quite the contrary--but she is mollified by the kindly expressions, public and private, which have received the election. and there are none which we both value more than yours. (i see i said that before, but i can't say it too often.) ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hindhead, july , . my dear flower, many thanks for your comforting letter. when i am fairly committed to anything i generally have a cold fit--and your judgment that i have done right is "grateful and comforting" like epps' cocoa. it is not so much work as distraction that is involved; and though it may put a stop to my purely scientific work for a while, i don't know that i could be better employed in the interests of science than in trying to keep the royal society straight. my wife was very much against it at first--and indeed when i was first spoken to i declared that i would not go on after next st. andrew's day. but a good deal of pressure was brought to bear by some of my friends, and if the fellows don't turn me out i shall say with macmahon, "j'y suis et j'y reste." ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. we have run down here for a day, but are back to-morrow. marlborough place, july , . my dear spencer, what an agreeable surprise your letter has been. i have been expecting the most awful scolding for taking more work, and behold as sweetly congratulatory an epistle as a man could wish. three weeks ago i swore by all my gods that i would not take the offer at any price, but i suppose the infusion of theism was too homeopathic for the oath to bind. go on sleeping, my dear friend. if you are so amiable with three nights, what will you be with three weeks? what a shame no rain is sent you. you will be speaking about providence as i heard of a yankee doing the other day--"wal, sir, i guess he's good; but he's careless." i think there is a good deal in that view of the government of the world. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to his eldest daughter:--] marlborough place, july , . dearest jess, i am not sure either whether my accession to the presidency is a matter for congratulation. honour and glory are all very fine, but on the whole i prefer peace and quietness, and three weeks ago i declared i would have nothing to do with it. but there are a good many circumstances in the present state of affairs which weighed heavily in the scale, and so i made up my mind to try the experiment. if i don't suit the office or the office doesn't suit me, there is a way out every th of november. there was more work connected with the secretaryship--but there is more trouble and responsibility and distraction in the presidency. i am amused with your account of your way of governing your headstrong boy. i find the way of governing headstrong men to be very similar, and i believe it is by practising the method that i get the measure of success with which people credit me. but they are often very fractious, and it is a bother for a man who was meant for a student. poor spottiswoode's death was a great blow to me. never was a better man, and i hoped he would stop where he was for the next ten years... ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [he finally decided that the question of standing again in november must depend on whether this course was likely to cause division in the ranks of the society. he earnestly desired to avoid anything like a contest for scientific honours (as he wrote a little later:--] "i have never competed in the way of honour in my life, and i cannot allow myself to be even thought of as in such a position now, where, with all respect to the honour and glory, they do not appear to me to be in any way equivalent to the burden. and i am not at all sure that i may not be able to serve the right cause outside the chair rather than in it."); [he was almost morbidly anxious that the temporary choice of himself should not be interpreted as binding the electors in any way. i give the following letters to show his sensitiveness on every question of honour and of public advantage:--] brechin castle, brechin, n.b., september , . my dear foster, we got here yesterday. the commission does not meet till next week, so like the historical donkey of jeshurun i have nothing to do but wax fat and kick in this excellent pasture. at odd times lately my mind has been a good deal exercised about the royal society. i am quite willing to go on in the chair if the council and the society wish it. but it is quite possible that the council who chose me when the choice was limited to their own body, might be disposed to select some one else when the range of choice is extended to the whole body of the society. and i am very anxious that the council should be made to understand, when the question comes forward for discussion after the recess, that the fact of present tenancy constitutes no claim in my eyes. the difficulty is, how is this to be done? i cannot ask the council to do as they please, without reference to me, because i am bound to assume that that is what they will do, and it would be an impertinence to assume the contrary. on the other hand, i should at once decline to be put in nomination again, if it could be said that by doing so i had practically forced myself either upon the council or upon the society. heaven be praised i have not many enemies, but the two or three with whom i have to reckon don't stick at trifles, and i should not like by any inadvertance to give them a handle. i have had some thought of writing a letter to evans [sir john evans, k.c.b., then treasurer of the royal society.], such as he could read to the council at the first meeting in october, at which i need not be present. the subject could then be freely discussed, without any voting or resolution on the minutes, and the officers could let me know whether in their judgment it is expedient i should be nominated or not. in the last case i should withdraw on the ground of my other occupations--which, in fact, is a very real obstacle, and one which looms large in my fits of blue-devils, which have been more frequent of late than they should be in holiday time. now, will you turn all this over in your mind? perhaps you might talk it over with stokes. of course i am very sensible of the honour of being p.r.s., but i should be much more sensible of the dishonour of being in that place by a fluke, or in any other way, than by the free choice of the council and society. in fact i am inclined to think that i am morbidly sensitive on the last point; and so, instead of acting on my own impulse, as i have been tempted to do, i submit myself to your worship's wisdom. i am not sure that i should not have been wiser if i had stuck to my original intention of holding office only till st. andrew's day. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. secretary of state, home department, october , . my dear foster, there was an irish bricklayer who once bet a hodman he would not carry him up to the top of an exceeding high ladder in his hod. the hod man did it, but paddy said, "i had great hopes, now, ye'd let me fall just about six rounds from the top." i told the story before when i was up for the school board, but it is so applicable to the present case that i can't help coming out with it again. if you, dear good hodmen, would have but let me fall! however, as the thing is to be, it is very pleasant to find evans and williamson and you so hearty in the process of elevation, and in spite of blue-devils i will do my best to "do my duty in the state of life i'm called to." but i believe you never had the advantage of learning the church catechism. if there is any good in what is done you certainly deserve the credit of it, for nothing but your letter stopped me from kicking over the traces at once. do you see how evolution is getting made into a bolus and oiled outside for the ecclesiastical swallow? [this refers to papers read before the church congress that year by messrs. w.h. flower and f. le gros clarke.] ever thine, thomas, p.r.s. [the same feeling appears in his anxiety as president to avoid the slightest appearance of committing the society to debatable opinions which he supported as a private individual. thus, although he had "personally, politically, and philosophically" no liking for charles bradlaugh, he objected on general grounds to the exclusion of mrs. besant and miss bradlaugh from the classes at university college, and had signed a memorial in their favour. on the other hand, he did not wish it to be asserted that the royal society, through its president, had thrown its influence into what was really a social and political, not a scientific question. he writes to sir m. foster on july :--] it is very unlucky for me that i signed the memorial requesting the council of university college to reconsider their decision about mrs. besant and miss bradlaugh when i was quite innocent of any possibility of holding the p.r.s. i must go to the meeting of members to-day and define my position in the matter with more care, under the circumstances. mrs. besant was a student in my teacher's class here last year, and a very well-conducted lady-like person; but i have never been able to get hold of the "fruits of philosophy," and do not know to what doctrine she has committed herself. they seem to have excluded miss bradlaugh simply on the noscitur a sociis principle. it will need all the dexterity i possess to stand up for the principle of religious and philosophical freedom, without giving other people a hold for saying i that have identified myself with bradlaugh. [it was the same a little later with the sunday society, which had offered him its presidency. he writes to the honorary secretary on february , :--] i regret that it is impossible for me to accept the office which the sunday society honours me by offering. it is not merely a disinclination to add to the work which already falls to my share which leads me to say this. so long as i am president of the royal society, i shall feel bound to abstain from taking any prominent part in public movements as to the propriety of which the opinions of the fellows of the society differ widely. my own opinions on the sunday question are exactly what they were five-and-twenty years ago. they have not been hid under a bushel, and i should not have accepted my present office if i had felt that so doing debarred me from reiterating them whenever it may be necessary to do so. but that is a different matter from taking a step which would, in the eyes of the public, commit the royal society, through its president, to one side of the controversy in which you are engaged, and in which i, personally, hope you may succeed as warmly as ever i did. [one other piece of work during the first half of the year remains to be mentioned, namely, the rede lecture, delivered at cambridge on june . this was a discourse on evolution, based upon the consideration of the pearly nautilus. he first traced the evolution of the individual from the ovum, and replied to the three usual objections raised to evolution, that it is impossible, immoral, and contrary to the argument of design, by replying to the first, that it does occur in every individual; to the second, that the morality which opposes itself to truth commits suicide; and to the third that paley--the most interesting sunday reading allowed him when a boy--had long since answered this objection. then he proceeded to discuss the evolution of the species, all extinct but two, of nautilus. the alternative theory of new construction, a hundred times over, is opposed alike to tradition and to sane science. on the other hand, evolution, tested by paleontology, proves a sound hypothesis. the great difficulty of science is in tracing every event to those causes which are in present operation; the hypothesis of evolution is analogous to what is going on now. the summer was passed at milford, near godalming, in a house at the very edge of the heather country which from there stretches unbroken past hindhead and into wolmer forest. so well did he like the place that he took it again the following year. but his holiday was like to have been spoilt at the beginning by the strain of an absurd adventure which involved much fatigue and more anxiety.] i came back only last night [he writes to sir m. foster on august ] from paris, where i sped on sunday night, in a horrid state of alarm from a cursed blundering telegram which led me to believe that leonard (you know he got his first class to our great joy) who had left for the continent on saturday, was ill or had had an accident. [it was indeed a hurried journey. on receipt of the telegram, he rushed to victoria only to miss the night mail. the booking-clerk suggested that he should drive to london bridge, take train to lewes, and thence take a fly to newhaven, where he ought to catch a later boat. the problem was to catch the london bridge train. there was barely a quarter of an hour, but thanks to a good horse and the sunday absence of traffic, the thing was done, establishing, i believe, what the modern mind delights in, a record in cab-driving. happily the anxiety at not finding his son in paris was soon allayed by another telegram from home, where his son-in-law, the innocent sender of the original message, had meanwhile arrived. he writes to sir m. foster:--] judging by my scrawl, which is worse than usual, i should say the anxiety had left its mark, but i am none the worse otherwise. [this was indeed the case. other letters to sir m. foster show that he was unusually well, perhaps because he was really making holiday to some extent. thus on august , he writes:--] this is a lovely country, and i have been reading novels and walking about for the last four days. i must be all right, wind and limb, for i walked over twenty miles the day before yesterday, and except a blister on one heel, was none the worse. [and again on september :--] have been very lazy lately, which means that i have done a great many things that i need not have done, and have left undone those which i ought to have done. nowadays that seems to me to be the real definition of a holiday. [for once he was not doing very much holiday work, though he was filing at the rede lecture to get it into shape for publication. the examinations for the science and art department were over, and indeed he writes to sir m. foster:--] don't bother your head about the balance--now or hereafter. to tell you the truth i do so little in the examiner business that i am getting ashamed of taking even the retaining fee, and you will do me a favour if you will ease my conscience. [a week of fishery business in south wales and devon had] "a good deal of holiday in it." [for the rest:--] i have just been put on senate of university of london [a crown nomination]. i tried hard to get lord granville to let me off--in fact i told him i could not attend the meetings except now and then, but there was no escape. i must have a talk with you about what is to be done there. item: there is a new fishery commission that i also strongly objected to, but had to cave in so far as i agreed to attend some meetings in latter half of september. [on this occasion lord granville had written back:-- carlton house terrace, july , . my dear professor huxley, clay, the great whist player, once made a mistake and said to his partner, "my brain is softening," the latter answered "never mind, i will give you ten thousand pounds down for it, just as it is." on that principle and backed up by paget i shall write to harcourt on monday. yours sincerely, granville. the commission of course cut short the stay at milford, and on september , he writes:--] we shall leave this on friday as my wife has some fal-lals to look after before we start for the north on monday. the worst of it is that it is not at all certain that the commission will meet and do any work. however i am pledged to go, and i daresay that brechin castle is a very pleasant place to stay in. [lastly, he was thinking over the obituary notice of darwin which he had undertaken to write for the royal society--though it did not appear till --that on f. balfour being written by sir m. foster.] highcroft house, milford, godalming, august , . my dear foster, i do not see anything to add or alter to what you have said about balfour, except to get rid of that terrible word "urinogenital," which he invented, and i believe i once adopted, out of mere sympathy i suppose. darwin is on my mind, and i will see what can be done here by and by. up to the present i have been filing away at the rede lecture. i believe that getting things into shape takes me more and more trouble as i get older--whether it is a loss of faculty or an increase of fastidiousness i can't say--but at any rate it costs me more time and trouble to get things finished--and when they are done i should prefer burning to publishing them. haven't you any suggestions to offer for anniversary address? i think the secretaries ought to draw it up, like a queen's speech. mind we have a talk some day about university of london. i suppose you want an english sorbonne. i have thought of it at times, but the philistines are strong. weather jolly, but altogether too hot for anything but lying on the grass "under the tegmination of the patulous fage," as the poet observes. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the remaining letters of this year are for the most part on royal society business, some of which, touching the anniversary dinner, may be quoted:--] marlborough place, november , . my dear foster, ...i have been trying to get some political and other swells to come to the dinner. lord mayor is coming--thought i would ask him on account of city and guilds business--lord chancellor, probably, courtney, m.p., promised, and i made the greatest blunder i ever made in all my life by thoughtlessly writing to ask chamberlain (!!!) utterly forgetting the row with tyndall. [concerning the lighthouses.] by the mercy of providence he can't come this year, though i must ask him next (if i am not kicked out for my sins before that), as he is anxious to come. science ought to be in league with the radicals... ever yours, t.h. huxley. [he had made prompt confession as soon as he discovered his mistake, to tyndall himself, who ultimately came to the dinner and proposed the health of his old friend hirst.] marlborough place, november , . my dear tyndall, i have been going to write to you for two or three days to ask you to propose hirst's health as royal medallist on the th november. i am sure your doing so would give an extra value to the medal to him. but now i realise the position of those poor devils i have seen in lunatic asylums and who believed they have committed the unforgivable sin. it came upon me suddenly in waterloo place this evening, that i had done so; and i went straight to the royal institution to make confession, and if possible get absolution. but i heard you had gone to hindhead, and so i write. yesterday i was sending some invitations to the dinner on the th, and thinking to please the society i made a shot at some ministers. the only two i know much about are harcourt and chamberlain, and the devil (in whom i now firmly believe) put it into my head to write to both. the enormous stupidity of which i had been guilty in asking chamberlain under the circumstances, and the sort of construction you and others might put upon it, never entered my head till this afternoon. it really made me ill, and i went straight to find you. if providence is good to me the letter will miscarry and he won't come. but anyhow i want you to know that i have been idiotically stupid, and that i shall wish the presidency and the dinner and everything connected with it at the bottom of the sea, if you are as much disgusted with me as you have a perfect right to be. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following refers to the tyneside sunday lecture society at newcastle, which had invited him to become one of its vice-presidents:--] marlborough place, n.w., december , . my dear morley, the newcastle people wrote to me some time ago telling me that sir w. armstrong was going to be their president. [the actual words of the secretary were "we have asked sir w. armstrong to be president," and huxley was mistaken in supposing this intimation to imply that, as generally happens in such cases, sir william had previously intimated his willingness to accept the position if formally asked.] armstrong is an old friend of mine, so i wrote to him to make inquiries. he told me that he was not going to be president, and knew nothing about the people who were getting up the society. so i declined to have anything to do with it. however, the case is altered now that you are in the swim. you have no gods to swear by, unfortunately; but if you will affirm, in the name of x, that under no circumstances shall i be called upon to do anything, they may have my name among the v.-p.'s and much good may it do them. all our good wishes to you and yours. the great thing one has to wish for as time goes on is vigour as long as one lives, and death as soon as vigour flags. it is a curious thing that i find my dislike to the thought of extinction increasing as i get older and nearer the goal. it flashes across me at all sorts of times with a sort of horror that in i shall probably know no more of what is going on than i did in . i had sooner be in hell a good deal--at any rate in one of the upper circles where the climate and company are not too trying. i wonder if you are plagued in this way. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the following letters, to his family or to intimate friends, are in lighter vein. the first is to sir m. foster; the concluding item of information in reply to several inquiries. the royal society wished some borings made in egypt to determine the depth of the stratum of nile mud:--] the egyptian exploration society is wholly archaeological--at least from the cut of it i have no doubt it is so--and they want all their money to find out the pawnbrokers' shops which israel kept in pithom and rameses--and then went off with the pledges. this is the real reason why pharaoh and his host pursued them; and then moses and aaron bribed the post-boys to take out the linch pins. that is the real story of the exodus--as detailed in a recently discovered papyrus which neither brugsch nor maspero have as yet got hold of. [to his youngest daughter:--] marlborough place, n.w., april , . dearest pabelunza, i was quite overcome to-day to find that you had vanished without a parting embrace to your "faded but fascinating" parent. [a fragment of feminine conversation overheard at the dublin meeting of the british association, . "oh, there comes professor huxley: faded, but still fascinating."] i clean forgot you were going to leave this peaceful village for the whirl of gloucester dissipation this morning--and the traces of weeping on your visage, which should have reminded me of our imminent parting, were absent. my dear, i should like to have given you some good counsel. you are but a simple village maiden--don't be taken by the appearance of anybody. consult your father--inclosing photograph and measurement (in inches)--in any case of difficulty. also give my love to the matron your sister, and tell her to look sharp after you. treat her with more respect than you do your venerable p.--whose life will be gloom hidden by a film of heartless jests till you return. item.--kisses to ria and co. your desolated pater. [to his eldest daughter:--] marlborough place, may , . dearest jess, best thanks for your good wishes--considering all things, i am a hale old gentleman. but i had to speak last night at the academy dinner, and either that or the quantity of cigars i smoked, following the bad example of our friend "wales," has left me rather shaky to-day. it was trying, because jack's capital portrait was hanging just behind me--and somebody remarked that it was a better likeness of me than i was. if you begin to think of that it is rather confusing. i am grieved to have such accounts of ethel, and have lectured her accordingly. she threatens reprisals on you--and altogether is in a more saucy and irrepressible state than when she left. m-- is still in bed, though better--i am afraid she won't be able to go to court next week. you see we are getting grand. i hear great accounts of the children (ria and buzzer) and mean to cut out t'other governor when you bring them up. as we did not see fred the other day, the family is inclined to think that the salmon disagreed with him! ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, may , . my dear mrs. tyndall, if you will give me a bit of mutton at one o'clock i shall be very much your debtor, but as i have business to attend to afterwards at the home office i must stipulate that my intellect be not imperilled by those seductive evil genii who are apt to make their appearance at your lunch table. [this is accompanied by a sketch of a champagne bottle in the character of a demon.] m. is getting better, but i cannot let her be out at night yet. she thinks she is to be allowed to go to the international exhibition business on saturday; but if the temperature does not rise very considerably i shall have two words to say to that. ever yours very sincerely, t.h. huxley. i shall be alone. do you think that i am "subdued to that i work in," and like an oyster, carry my brood about beneath my mantle? chapter . . . [from this time forward the burden of ill-health grew slowly and steadily. dyspepsia and the hyperchondriacal depression which follows in its train, again attacked huxley as they had attacked him twelve years before, though this time the physical misery was perhaps less. his energy was sapped; when his official work was over, he could hardly bring himself to renew the investigations in which he had always delighted. to stoop over the microscope was a physical discomfort; he began to devote himself more exclusively to the reading of philosophy and critical theology. this was the time of which sir m. foster writes that "there was something working in him which made his hand, when turned to anatomical science, so heavy that he could not lift it. not even that which was so strong within him, the duty of fulfilling a promise, could bring him to the work." up to the beginning of october, he went on with his official work, the lectures at south kensington, the business as president of the royal society, and ex officio trustee of the british museum; the duties connected with the inspectorship of fisheries, the city and guilds technical education committee, and the university of london, and delivered the opening address at the london hospital medical school, on "the state and the medical profession" ["collected essays" ), his health meanwhile growing less and less satisfactory. he dropped minor offices, such as the presidency of the national association of science teachers, which, he considered, needed more careful supervision than he was able to give, and meditated retiring from part at least of his main duties, when he was ordered abroad at a moment's notice for first one, then another, and yet a third period of two months. but he did not definitely retire until this rest had proved ineffectual to fit him again for active work. the president of the royal society is, as mentioned above, an ex officio trustee of the british museum, so that now, as again in , circumstances at length brought about the state of affairs which huxley had once indicated--half jestingly--to robert lowe, who inquired of him what would be the best course to adopt with respect to the natural history collections of the british museum:--] "make me a trustee and flower director." [at this moment, the question of an official residence for the director of the natural history museum was under discussion with the treasury, and he writes:--] february , . my dear flower, i am particularly glad to hear your news. "ville qui parle et femme qui ecoute se rendent," says the wicked proverb--and it is true of chancellors of the exchequer. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a pendent to this is a letter of congratulation to sir henry roscoe on his knighthood:--] science and art department, south kensington, july , . my dear roscoe, i am very glad to see that the government has had the grace to make some acknowledgment of their obligation to you, and i wish you and "my lady" long enjoyment of your honours. i don't know if you are gazetted yet, so i don't indicate them outside. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s. i wrote some weeks ago to the secretary of the national association of science teachers to say that i must give up the presidency. i had come to the conclusion that the association wants sharp looking after, and that i can't undertake that business. p.s. . shall i tell you what your great affliction henceforward will be? it will be to hear yourself called sr'enery roscoe by the flunkies who announce you. her ladyship will please take note of this crumpled rose leaf--i am sure of its annoying her. [the following letter, with its comparison of life to a whirlpool and its acknowledgment of the widespread tendency in mankind to make idols, was written in answer to some inquiries from lady welby:--] april , . your letter requires consideration, and i have had very little leisure lately. whether motion disintegrates or integrates is, i apprehend, a question of conditions. a whirlpool in a stream may remain in the same spot for any imaginable time. yet it is the effect of the motion of the particles of the water in that spot which continually integrate themselves into the whirlpool and disintegrate themselves from it. the whirlpool is permanent while the conditions last, though its constituents incessantly change. living bodies are just such whirlpools. matter sets into them in the shape of food,--sets out of them in the shape of waste products. their individuality lies in the constant maintenance of a characteristic form, not in the preservation of material identity. i do not know anything about "vitality" except as a name for certain phenomena like "electricity" or "gravitation." as you get deeper into scientific questions you will find that "name ist schall und rauch" even more emphatically than faust says it is in theology. most of us are idolators, and ascribe divine powers to the abstractions "force," "gravity," "vitality," which our own brains have created. i do not know anything about "inert" things in nature. if we reduce the world to matter and motion, the matter is not "inert," inasmuch as the same amount of motion affects different kinds of matter in different ways. to go back to my own illustration. the fabric of the watch is not inert, every particle of it is in violent and rapid motion, and the winding-up simply perturbs the whole infinitely complicated system in a particular fashion. equilibrium means death, because life is a succession of changes, while a changing equilibrium is a contradiction in terms. i am not at all clear that a living being is comparable to a machine running down. on this side of the question the whirlpool affords a better parallel than the watch. if you dam the stream above or below, the whirlpool dies; just as the living being does if you cut off its food, or choke it with its own waste products. and if you alter the sides or bottom of the stream you may kill the whirlpool, just as you kill the animal by interfering with its structure. heat and oxidation as a source of heat appear to supply energy to the living machine, the molecular structure of the germ furnishing the "sides and bottom of the stream," that is, determining the results which the energy supplied shall produce. mr. ashby writes like a man who knows what he is talking about. his exposition appears to me to be essentially sound and extremely well put. i wish there were more sanitary officers of the same stamp. mr. spencer is a very admirable writer, and i set great store by his works. but we are very old friends, and he has endured me as a sort of "devil's advocate" for thirty-odd years. he thinks that if i can pick no holes in what he says he is safe. but i pick a great many holes, and we agree to differ. [between april and september, fishery business took him out of london for no less than forty-three days, first to cornwall, then in may to brixham, in june to cumberland and yorkshire, in july to chester, and in september to south devon, cornwall, and wales. a few extracts from his letters home may be given. just before starting, he writes from marlborough place to rogate, where his wife and one of his daughters were staying:--] april . the weather turned wonderfully muggy here this morning, and turned me into wet paper. but i contrived to make a "neat and appropriate" in presenting old hird with his testimonial. fayrer and i were students under him forty years ago, and as we stood together it was a question which was the greyest old chap. april . i have almost given up reading the egyptian news, i am so disgusted with the whole business. i saw several pieces of land to let for building purposes about falmouth, but did not buy. [this was to twit his wife with her constant desire that he should buy a bit of land in the country to settle upon in their old age.] april . you don't say when you go back, so i direct this to rogate. i shall expect to see you quite set up. we must begin to think seriously about getting out of the hurly-burly a year or two hence, and having an indian summer together in peace and quietness. april , sunday, falmouth. i went out at ten o'clock this morning, and did not get back till near seven. but i got a cup of tea and some bread and butter in a country village, and by the help of that and many pipes supported nature. there was a bitter east wind blowing, but the day was lovely otherwise, and by judicious dodging in coves and creeks and sandy bays, i escaped the wind and absorbed a prodigious quantity of sunshine. i took a volume of the "decline and fall of the roman empire" with me. i had not read the famous th and th chapters for ages, and i lay on the sands and enjoyed them properly. a lady came and spoke to me as i returned, who knew l. at oxford very well--can't recollect her name--and her father and mother are here, and i have just been spending an hour with them. also a man who sat by me at dinner knew me from jack's portrait. so my incognito is not very good. i feel quite set up by my day's wanderings. may , torquay. we went over to brixham yesterday to hold an inquiry, getting back here to an eight o'clock or nearer nine dinner...dalhousie has discovered that the officer now in command of the "britannia" is somebody whom he does not know, so we gave up going to dartmouth and agreed to have a lazy day here. it is the most exquisite summer weather you can imagine, and i have been basking in the sun all the morning and dreamily looking over the view of the lovely bay which is looking its best--but take it all round it does not come up to lynton. dalhousie is more likeable than ever, and i am just going out for a stroll with him. june . i left keswick this morning for cockermouth, took the chair at my meeting punctually at twelve, sat six mortal hours listening to evidence, nine-tenths of which was superfluous--and turning my lawyer faculty to account in sifting the grains of fact out of the other tenth. june , leeds. ...we had a long drive to a village called harewood on the wharfe. there is a big lord lives there--earl of harewood--and he and his ancestors must have taken great care of their tenants, for the labourers' houses are the best i ever saw...i cut out the enclosed from the "standard" the other day to amuse you, but have forgotten to send it before [apparently announcing that he was about to accept a title. i have not been able to trace the paragraph.] i think we will be "markishes," the lower grades are getting common. june . ...i had a long day's inspection of the wharfe yesterday, attended a meeting of the landed proprietors at ottley to tell them what they must do if they would get salmon up their river... i shall leave here to-morrow morning, go on to skipton, whence seven or eight miles' drive will take me to linton where there is an obstruction in the river i want to see. in the afternoon i shall come home from skipton, but i don't know exactly by what train. as far as i see, i ought to be home by about . , and you may have something light for supper, as the "course of true feeding is not likely to run smooth"--to-morrow. [in august he went again to the corner of surrey which he had enjoyed so much the year before. here, in the intervals of suffering under the hands of the dentist, he worked at preparing a new edition of the "elementary physiology" with sir m. foster, alternating with fresh studies in critical theology. the following letters reflect his occupations at this time, together with his desire, strongly combated by his friend, of resigning the presidency of the royal society immediately.] highcroft house, milford, godalming, august , . my dear foster, i had to go up to town on friday, and yesterday i went and had all my remaining teeth out, and came down here again with a shrewd suspicion that i was really drunk and incapable, however respectable i might look outwardly. at present i can't eat at all, and i can't smoke with any comfort. for once i don't mind using italics. item.--i send the two cuts. heaven be praised! i had brought down no copy of physiology with me, so could not attend to your proof. got it yesterday, so i am now at your mercy. but i have gone over the proofs now, and send you a deuce of a lot of suggestions. just think over additions to smell and taste to bring these into harmony. the saints salute you. i am principally occupied in studying the gospels. ever yours, t.h. huxley. highcroft house, milford, godalming, august , . dearly beloved, i have been going over the ear chapter this morning, and, as you will see, have suggested some additions. those about the lamina spiralis are certainly necessary--illus. substitution of trihedral for triangular. [(on september , he writes:--] "i have been laughing over my 'trihedron.' it is a regular bull.") i want also very much to get into heads of students that in sensation it is all modes of motion up to and in sensorium, and that the generation of feeling is the specific reaction of a particle of the sensorium when stimulated, just as contraction, etc., is the specific reaction of a muscular fibre when stimulated by its nerve. the psychologists make the fools of themselves they do because they have never mastered this elementary fact. but i am not sure whether i have put it well, and i wish you would give your mind to it. as for me i have not had much mind to give lately--a fortnight's spoon-meat reduced me to inanity, and i am only just picking up again. however, i walked ten miles yesterday afternoon, so there is not much the matter. i will see what i can do about the histology business. ("most of our examinees" [he writes on september ] "have not a notion of what histology means at present. i think it will be good for other folks to get it into their heads that it is not all sections and carmine.") i wanted to re-write it, but i am not sure yet whether i shall be able. between ourselves, i have pretty well made up my mind to clear out of everything next year, royal society included. i loathe the thought of wasting any more of my life in endless distractions--and so long as i live in london there is no escape for me. i have half a mind to live abroad for six months in the year. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i enclose letter from deutsch lunatic to go before council and be answered by foreign secretary. highcroft house, milford, godalming, august , . dearly beloved, i enclose the proofs, having mustered up volition enough to go over them at once. i think the alterations will be great improvements. i see you interpret yourself about the movements of the larynx. as to the histology, i shall have a shot at it, but if i do not send you manuscript in a week's time, go ahead. i am perplexed about the illustrations, but i see nothing for it but to have new ones in all the cases which you have marked. have you anybody in cambridge who can draw the things from preparations? you are like trochu with your "plan," and i am anxious to learn it. but have you reflected, st, that i am getting deafer and deafer, and that i cannot hear what is said at the council table and in the society's rooms half the time people are speaking? and nd, that so long as i am president, so long must i be at the beck and call of everything that turns up in relation to the interests of science. so long as i am in the chair, i cannot be a faineant or refuse to do anything and everything incidental to the position. my notion is to get away for six months, so as to break with the "world, the flesh, and the devil" of london, for all which i have conceived a perfect loathing. six months is long enough for anybody to be forgotten twice over by everybody but personal friends. i am contemplating a winter in italy, but i shall keep on my house for harry's sake and as a pied a terre in london, and in the summer come and look at you at burlington house, as the old soap-boiler used to visit the factory. i shall feel like the man out of whom the legion of devils departed when he looked at the gambades of the two thousand pigs going at express speed for the waters of tiberias. by the way, did you ever read that preposterous and immoral story carefully? it is one of the best attested of the miracles... when i have retired from the chair (which i must not scandalise) i shall write a lay sermon on the text. it will be impressive. my wife sends her love, and says she has her eye on you. she is all for retirement. ever yours, i am very sorry to hear of poor mangles' death, but i suppose there was no other chance. t.h.h. [in september he hails with delight some intermission of the constant depression under which he has been labouring, and writes:--] so long as i sit still and write or read i am all right, otherwise not good for much, which is odd, considering that i eat, drink, and sleep like a top. i suppose that everybody starts with a certain capital of life-stuff, and that expensive habits have reduced mine. [and again:--] i have been very shaky for the last few weeks, but i am picking up again, and hope to come up smiling for the winter's punishment. there was nothing to drink last night, so i had some tea! with my dinner--smoked a pipe or two--slept better than usual, and woke without blue devils for the first time for a week!!! query, is that the effect of tea or baccy? i shall try them again. we are fearfully and wonderfully made, especially in the stomach--which is altogether past finding out. [still, his humour would flash out in the midst of his troubles; he writes in answer to a string of semi-official inquiries from sir j. donnelly:--] highcroft house, milford, godalming. sir, in reply to your letter of the th august ( ), i have the honour to state:-- . that i am here. . that i have (a) had all my teeth out; (b) partially sprained my right thumb; (c) am very hot; (d) can't smoke with comfort; whence i may leave even official intelligence to construct an answer to your second inquiry. . your third question is already answered under a. not writing might be accounted for by b, but unfortunately the sprain is not bad enough--and "laziness, sheer laziness" is the proper answer. i am prepared to take a solemn affidavit that i told you and macgregor where i was coming many times, and moreover that i distinctly formed the intention of leaving my address in writing--according to those official instructions which i always fulfil. if the intention was not carried out, its blood be upon its own head--i wash my hands of it, as pilate did. . as to the question whether i want my letters i can sincerely declare that i don't--would in fact much rather not see them. but i suppose for all that they had better be sent. . i hope macgregor's question is not a hard one--spoon-meat does not carry you beyond words of one syllable. on friday i signalised my last dinner for the next three weeks by going to meet the g.o.m. i sat next him, and he was as lively as a bird. very sorry to hear about your house. you will have to set up a van with a brass knocker and anchor on our common. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [by the beginning of september he had made up his mind that he ought before long to retire from active life. the first person to be told of his resolution was the head of the science and art department, with whom he had worked so long at south kensington.] highcroft house, milford, godalming, september , . my dear donnelly, i was very glad to have news of you yesterday. i gather you are thriving, notwithstanding the appalling title of your place of refuge. i should have preferred "blow the cold" to "cold blow"--but there is no accounting for tastes. i have been going and going to write to you for a week past to tell you of a notion that has been maturing in my mind for some time, and that i ought to let you know of before anybody else. i find myself distinctly aged--tired out body and soul, and for the first time in my life fairly afraid of the work that lies before me in the next nine months. physically, i have nothing much to complain of except weariness--and for purely mental work, i think i am good for something yet. i am morally and mentally sick of society and societies--committees, councils--bother about details and general worry and waste of time. i feel as if more than another year of it would be the death of me. next may i shall be sixty, and have been thirty-one mortal years in my present office in the school. surely i may sing my nunc dimittis with a good conscience. i am strongly inclined to announce to the royal society in november that the chair will be vacant that day twelve month--to resign my government posts at mid-summer, and go away and spend the winter in italy--so that i may be out of reach of all the turmoil of london. the only thing i don't like is the notion of leaving you without such support as i can give in the school. no one knows better than i do how completely it is your work and how gallantly you have borne the trouble and responsibility connected with it. but what am i to do? i must give up all or nothing--and i shall certainly come to grief if i do not have a long rest. pray tell me what you think about it all. my wife has written to mrs. donnelly and told her the news. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. read hobbes if you want to get hard sense in good english. highcroft house, milford, godalming, september , . my dear donnelly, many thanks for your kind letter. i feel rather like a deserter, and am glad of any crumbs of comfort. cartwright has done wonders for me, and i can already eat most things (i draw the line at tough crusts). i have not even my old enemy, dyspepsia--but eat, drink, and sleep like a top. and withal i am as tired as if i were hard at work, and shirk walking. so far as i can make out there is not the slightest sign of organic disease anywhere, but i will get clark to overhaul me when i go back to town. sometimes i am inclined to suspect that it is all sham and laziness--but then why the deuce should i want to sham and be lazy. somebody started a charming theory years ago--that as you get older and lose volition, primitive evil tendencies, heretofore mastered, come out and show themselves. a nice prospect for venerable old gentlemen! perhaps my crust of industry is denuded, and the primitive rock of sloth is cropping out. but enough of this egotistical invalidism. how wonderfully gordon is holding his own. i should like to see him lick the mahdi into fits before wolseley gets up. you despise the jews, but gordon is more like one of the maccabees of bar-kochba than any sort of modern man. my wife sends love to both of you, and says you are (in feminine language) "a dear thing in friends." ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. home office, september , . my dear donnelly, we have struck our camp at milford, and i am going down to devonshire and cornwall to-morrow--partly on fishery business, partly to see if i can shake myself straighter by change of air. i am possessed by seven devils--not only blue, but of the deepest indigo--and i shall try to transplant them into a herd of cornish swine. the only thing that comforts me is gordon's telegrams. did ever a poor devil of a government have such a subordinate before? he is the most refreshing personality of this generation. i shall be back by th september--and i hope in better condition for harness than now. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [replying to general donnelly's arguments against his resigning all his official posts, he writes:--] dartmouth, september , . my dear donnelly, your letters, having made a journey to penzance (where i told my wife i should go last friday, but did not, and brought up here instead) turned up this morning. i am glad to have seen lord carlingford's letter, and i am very much obliged to him for his kind expressions. assuredly i will not decide hastily. now for your letter--i am all for letters in these matters. not that we are either of us "impatient and irritable listeners"--oh dear, no! "i have my faults," as the miser said, "but avarice is not one of them"--and we have our faults too, but notoriously they lie in the direction of long-suffering and apathy. nevertheless there is a good deal to be said for writing. mine is itself a discipline in patience for my correspondent. imprimis. i scorn all your chaff about society. my great object for years has been to keep out of it, not to go into it. just you wait till the misses donnelly grow up--i trust there may be five or ten of them--and see what will happen to you. but apart from this, so long as i live in london, so long will it be practically impossible for me to keep out of dining and giving of dinners--and you know that just as well as i do. nd. i mean to give up the presidency, but don't see my way to doing so next st. andrew's day. i wish i could--but i must deal fairly by the society. rd. the suggestion of the holiday at christmas is the most sensible thing you have said. i could get six weeks under the new arrangement ("botany," january and half february) without interfering with my lectures at all. but then there is the blessed home office to consider. there might be civil war between the net men and the rod men in six weeks, all over the country, without my mild influence. th. i must give up my inspectorship. the mere thought of having to occupy myself with the squabbles of these idiots of country squireens and poachers makes me sick--and is, i believe, the chief cause of the morbid state of my mucous membranes. all this week shall i be occupied in hearing one jackass contradict another jackass about questions which are of no importance. i would almost as soon be in the house of commons. now see how reasonable i am. i agree with you (a) that i must get out of the hurly-burly of society; (b) that i must get out of the presidency; (c) that i must get out of the inspectorship, or rather i agree with myself on that matter, you having expressed no opinion. that being so, it seems to me that i must, willy-nilly, give up south kensington. for--and here is the point you had in your mind when you lamented your possible impatience about something i might say--i swear by all the gods that are not mine, nothing shall induce me to apply to the treasury for anything but the pound of flesh to which i am entitled. nothing ever disgusted me more than being the subject of a battle with the treasury over the home office appointment--which i should have thrown up if i could have done so with decency to harcourt. it's just as well for me i couldn't, but it left a nasty taste. i don't want to leave the school, and should be very glad to remain as dean, for many reasons. but what i don't see is how i am to do that and make my escape from the thousand and one entanglements--which seem to me to come upon me quite irrespectively of any office i hold--or how i am to go on living in london as a (financially) decayed philosopher. i really see nothing for it but to take my pension and go and spend the winter of - in italy. i hear one can be a regular swell there on pounds a year. six months' absence is oblivion, and i shall take to a new line of work, and one which will greatly meet your approval. as to x-- i am not a-going to--not being given to hopeless enterprises. that rough customer at dublin is the only man who occurs to me. i can't think of his name, but that is part of my general unfitness. ...i suppose i shall chaff somebody on my death-bed. but i am out of heart to think of the end of the lunches in the sacred corner. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [on the st he writes home about the steps he had begun to take with respect to giving up part of his official work.] i have had a long letter from donnelly. he had told lord carlingford of my plans, and encloses a letter from lord carlingford to him, trusting i will not hastily decide, and with some pretty phrases about "support and honour" i give to the school. donnelly is very anxious i should hold on to the school, if only as dean, and wants me in any case to take two months' holiday at christmas. of course he looks on the royal society as the root of all evil. foster per contra looks on the school as the deuce, but would have me stick by the royal society like grim death. the only moral obligation that weighs with me is that which i feel under, to deal fairly by donnelly and the school. you must not argue against this, as rightly or wrongly i am certain that if i deserted the school hastily, or if i did not do all that i can to requite donnelly for the plucky way in which he has stood by it and me for the last dozen years, i should never shake off the feeling that i had behaved badly. and as i am much given to brooding over my misdeeds, i don't want you to increase the number of my hell-hounds. you must help me in this...and if i am quixotic, play sancho for the nonce. chapter . . - . [towards the end of september he went to the west country to try to improve his health before the session began again in london. thus he writes, on september , to mr. w.f. collier, who had invited him to horrabridge, and on the th to sir m. foster:--] fowey, september , . many thanks for the kind offer in your letter, which has followed me here. but i have not been on the track you might naturally have supposed i had followed. i have been trying to combine hygiene with business, and betook myself, in the first place, to dartmouth, afterwards to totnes, and then came on here. from this base of operations i could easily reach all my places of meeting. to-morrow i have to go to bodmin, but i shall return here, and if the weather is fine (raining cats and dogs at present), i may remain a day or two to take in stock of fresh air before commencing the london campaign. i am very glad to hear that your health has improved so much. you must feel quite proud to be such an interesting "case." if i set a good example myself i would venture to warn you against spending five shillings worth of strength on the ground of improvement to the extent of half-a-crown. i am not quite clear as to the extent to which my children have colonised woodtown at present. but it seems to me that there must be three or four huxleys (free or in combination, as the chemists say) about the premises. please give them the paternal benediction; and with very kind remembrances to mrs. collier, believe me, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. fowey hotel, fowey, cornwall, september , . my dear foster, i return your proof, with a few trifling suggestions here and there... i fancy we may regard the award as practically settled, and a very good award it will be. the address is beginning to loom in the distance. i have half a mind to devote some part of it to a sketch of the recent novelties in histology touching the nucleus question and molecular physiology. my wife sent me your letter. by all means let us have a confabulation as soon as i get back and settle what is to be done with the "aged p." i am not sure that i shall be at home before the end of the week. my lectures do not begin till next week, and the faithful howes can start the practical work without me, so that if i find myself picking up any good in these parts, i shall probably linger here or hereabouts. but a good deal will depend on the weather--inside as well as outside. i am convinced that the prophet jeremiah (whose works i have been studying) must have been a flatulent dyspeptic--there is so much agreement between his views and mine. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [but the net result of this holiday is summed up in a note, of october , to sir m. foster:--] i got better while i was in cornwall and wales, and, at present, i don't think there is anything the matter with me except a profound disinclination to work. i never before knew the proper sense of the term "vis inertiae." [and writing in the same strain to sir j. evans, he adds:] but i have a notion that if i do not take a long spell of absolute rest before long i shall come to grief. however, getting into harness again may prove a tonic--it often does, e.g. in the case of cab-horses. [three days later he found himself ordered to leave england immediately, under pain of a hopeless breakdown.] marlborough place, october , . my dear foster, we shall be very glad to see you on friday. i came to the conclusion that i had better put myself in clark's hands again, and he has been here this evening overhauling me for an hour. he says there is nothing wrong except a slight affection of the liver and general nervous depression, but that if i go on the latter will get steadily worse and become troublesome. he insists on my going away to the south and doing nothing but amuse myself for three or four months. this is the devil to pay, but i cannot honestly say that i think he is wrong. moreover, i promised the wife to abide by his decision. we will talk over what is to be done. ever yours, t.h. huxley. athenaeum club, october , . my dear morley, i heartily wish i could be with you on the th, but it is aliter visum to somebody, whether dis or diabolis, i can't say. the fact is, the day after i saw you i had to put myself in clark's hands, and he ordered me to knock off work and go and amuse myself for three or four months, under penalties of an unpleasant kind. so i am off to venice next wednesday. it is the only tolerably warm place accessible to any one whose wife will not let him go within reach of cholera just at present. if i am a good boy i am to come back all sound, as there is nothing organic the matter; but i have had enough of the world, the flesh, and the devil, and shall extricate myself from that trinity as soon as may be. perhaps i may get within measurable distance of berkeley ("english men of letters" edited by j.m.) before i die! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. athenaeum club, october , . my dear foster, best thanks for your letter and route. i am giving you a frightful quantity of trouble; but as the old woman (irish) said to my wife, when she gave her a pair of my old trousers for her husband, "i hope it may be made up to ye in a better world." she is clear, and i am clear, that there is no reason on my part for not holding on if the society really wishes i should. but, of course, i must make it easy for the council to get rid of a faineant president, if they prefer that course. i wrote to evans an unofficial letter two days ago, and have had a very kind, straightforward letter from him. he is quite against my resignation. i shall see him this afternoon here. i had to go to my office (fishery). clark's course of physic is lightening my abdominal troubles, but i am preposterously weak with a kind of shabby broken-down indifference to everything. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the "indian summer" to which he looked forward was not to be reached without passing through a season of more than equinoctial storms and tempests. his career had reached its highest point only to be threatened with a speedy close. he himself did not exceed more than two or three years' longer lease of life, and went by easy stages to venice, where he spent eight days.] "no place," [he writes,] "could be better fitted for a poor devil as sick in body and mind as i was when i got there."] venice itself [he writes to dr. foster] just suited me. i chartered a capital gondolier, and spent most of my time exploring the lagoons. especially i paid a daily visit to the lido, and filled my lungs with the sea air, and rejoiced in the absence of stinks. for venice is like her population (at least the male part of it), handsome but odorous. did you notice how handsome the young men are and how little beauty there is among the women? i stayed eight days in venice and then returned by easy stages first to padua, where i wanted to see giotto's work, then to verona, and then here (lugano). verona delighted me more than anything i have seen, and we will spend two other days there as we go back. as for myself, i really have no positive complaint now. i eat well and i sleep well, and i should begin to think i was malingering, if it were not for a sort of weariness and deadness that hangs about me, accompanied by a curious nervous irritability. i expect that this is the upshot of the terrible anxiety i have had about my daughter m--. i would give a great deal to be able to escape facing the wedding, for my nervous system is in the condition of that of a frog under opium. but my r. must not go off without the paternal benediction. [for the first three weeks he was alone, his wife staying to make preparations for the third daughter's wedding on november th, for which occasion he was to return, afterwards taking her abroad with him. unfortunately, just as he started, news was brought him at the railway station that his second daughter, whose brilliant gifts and happy marriage seemed to promise everything for her future, had been stricken by the beginnings of an insidious and, as he too truly feared, hopeless disease. nothing could have more retarded his own recovery. it was a bitter grief, referred to only in his most intimate letters, and, indeed, for a time kept secret even from the other members of the family. nothing was to throw a shade over the brightness of the approaching wedding. but on his way home, he writes of that journey:--] i had to bear my incubus, not knowing what might come next, until i reached luzern, when i telegraphed for intelligence, and had my mind set at ease as to the measures which were being adopted. i am a tough subject, and have learned to bear a good deal without crying out; but those four-and-twenty hours between london and luzern have taught me that i have yet a good deal to learn in the way of "grinning and bearing." [and although he writes,] "i would give a good deal not to face a lot of people next week,"..."i have the feelings of a wounded wild beast and hate the sight of all but my best friends," [he hid away his feelings, and made this the occasion for a very witty speech, of which, alas! i remember nothing but a delightfully mixed polyglot exordium in french, german, and italian, the result, he declared, of his recent excursion to foreign parts, which had obliterated the recollection of his native speech. during his second absence he appointed his youngest daughter secretary to look after necessary correspondence, about which he forwarded instructions from time to time. the chief matters of interest in the letters of this period are accounts of health and travel, sometimes serious, more often jesting, for the letters were generally written in the bright intervals between his dark days: business of the royal society, and the publication of the new edition of the "lessons in elementary physiology," upon which he and dr. foster had been at work during the autumn. but the four months abroad were not productive of very great good; the weather was unpropitious for an invalid--] "as usual, a quite unusual season" [--while his mind was oppressed by the reports of his daughter's illness. under these circumstances recovery was slow and travel comfortless; all the englishman's love of home breaks out in his letter of april , when he set foot again on english soil.] hotel de londres, verona, november , . dearest babs, . why, indeed, do they ask for more? wait till they send a letter of explanation, and then say that i am out of the country and not expected back for several years. . i wholly decline to send in any name to athenaeum. but don't mention it. . society of arts be bothered, also --. . write to science and art club to engage three of the prettiest girls as partners for evening. they will look very nice as wallflowers. . penny dinners? declined with thanks. . ask the meeting of herts n.h. society to come here after next thursday, when we shall be in bologna. business first, my sweet girl secretary with the curly front; and now for private affairs, though as your mother is covering reams with them, i can only mention a few of the more important which she will forget. the first is that she has a habit of hiding my shirts so that i am unable to find them when we go away, and the chambermaid comes rushing after us with the garment shamefully displayed. the second is that she will cover all the room with her things, and i am obliged to establish a military frontier on the table. the third is that she insists on my buying an italian cloak. so you will see your venerable pater equipped in this wise. [sketch of a cloaked figure like a brigand of melodrama.] except in these two particulars, she behaves fairly well to me. in point of climate, so far, italy has turned out a fraud. we dare not face venice, and mr. fenili will weep over my defection; but that is better than that we should cough over his satisfaction. i am quite pleased to hear of the theological turn of the family. it must be a drop of blood from one of your eight great-grandfathers, for none of your ancestors that i have known would have developed in this way. ...best love to nettie and harry. tell the former that cabbages do not cost shillings apiece, and the latter that p.m. is the cloture. ever your affectionate pater. hotel brittanique, naples, november , . my dear foster, which being st. andrew's day, i think the expatriated p. ought to give you some account of himself. we had a prosperous journey to locarno, but there plumped into bitter cold weather, and got chilled to the bone as the only guests in the big hotel, though they did their best to make us comfortable. i made a shot at bronchitis, but happily failed, and got all right again. pallanza was as bad. at milan temperature at noon degrees f., freezing at night. verona much the same. under these circumstances, we concluded to give up venice and made for bologna. there found it rather colder. next ravenna, where it snowed. however, we made ourselves comfortable in the queer hotel, and rejoiced in the mosaics of that sepulchral marsh. at bologna i had assurances that the sicilian quarantine was going to be taken off at once, and as the reports of the railway travelling and hotels in calabria were not encouraging, i determined to make for naples, or rather, by way of extra caution, for castellamare. all the way to ancona the apennines were covered with snow, and much of the plain also. twenty miles north of ancona, however, the weather changed to warm summer, and we rejoiced accordingly. at foggia i found that the one decent hotel that used to exist was non-extant, so we went on to naples. arriving at . very tired, got humbugged by a lying neapolitan, who palmed himself off as the commissaire of the hotel bristol, and took us into an omnibus belonging to another hotel, that of the bristol being, as he said, "broke." after a drive of three miles or so got to the bristol and found it shut up! after a series of adventures and a good deal of strong language on my part, knocked up the people here, who took us in, though the hotel was in reality shut up like most of those in naples. [owing to the cholera and consequent dearth of travellers.] as usual the weather is "unusual"--hot in the sun, cold round the corner and at night. moreover, i found by yesterday's paper that the beastly sicilians won't give up their ten days' quarantine. so all chance of getting to catania or palermo is gone. i am not sure whether we shall stay here for some time or go to rome, but at any rate we shall be here a week. dohrn is away getting subsidies in germany for his new ship. we inspected the aquarium this morning. eisig and mayer are in charge. madame is a good deal altered in the course of the twelve years that have elapsed since i saw her, but says she is much better than she was. as for myself, i got very much better when in north italy in spite of the piercing cold. but the fatigue of the journey from ancona here, and the worry at the end of it, did me no good, and i have been seedy for a day or two. however, i am picking up. i see one has to be very careful here. we had a lovely drive yesterday out pausilippo, but the wife got chilled and was shaky this morning. however, we got very good news of our daughter this evening, and that has set us both up. my blessing for to-morrow will reach you after date. let us hear how everything went off. your return in may project is really impracticable on account of the fishery report. i cannot be so long absent from the home office whatever i might manage with south kensington. with our love to mrs. foster and you. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this letter, as he says a week later, was written when he] "was rather down in the mouth from the wretched cold weather, and the wife being laid up with a bad cold," [besides his own ailments.] i find i have to be very careful about night air, but nothing does me so much good as six or seven miles' walk between breakfast and lunch--at a good sharp pace. so i conclude that there cannot be much the matter, and yet i am always on the edge, so to speak, of that infernal hypochondria. we have settled down here very comfortably, and i do not think we shall care to go any further south. madame dohrn and all the people at the stazione are very kind, and want to do all sorts of things for us. the other day we went in the launch to capri, intending next day to go to amalfi. but it threatened bad weather, so we returned in the evening. the journey knocked us both up, and we had to get out of another projected excursion to ischia to-day. the fact is, i get infinitely tired with talking to people and can't stand any deviation from regular and extremely lazy habits. fancy my being always in bed by ten o'clock and breakfasting at nine! [on the th, writing to sir john evans, who as vice-president, was acting in his stead at the royal society, he says:--] in spite of snow on the ground we had three or four days at ravenna--which is the most interesting deadly lively sepulchre of a place i was ever in in my life. the evolution of modern from ancient art is all there in a nutshell... i lead an altogether animal life, except that i have renewed my old love for italian. at present i am rejoicing in the autobiography of that delightful sinner, benvenuto cellini. i have some notion that there is such a thing as science somewhere. in fact i am fitting myself for neapolitan nobility. [to his youngest daughter.] hotel brittanique, naples, december , . but we have had no letters from home for a week...moreover, if we don't hear to-day or to-morrow we shall begin to speculate on the probability of an earthquake having swallowed up marlborough place "with all the young barbarians at play--and i their sire trying to get a roman holiday" (byron). for we are going to rome to-morrow, having had enough of naples, the general effect of which city is such as would be produced by the sight of a beautiful woman who had not washed or dressed her hair for a month. climate, on the whole, more variable than that of london. we had a lovely drive three days ago to cumae, a perfect summer's day; since then sunshine, heat, cold wind, calms all durcheinander, with thunder and lightning last night to complete the variety. the thermometer and barometer are not fixed to the walls here, as they would be jerked off by the sudden changes. at first, it is odd to see them dancing about the hall. but you soon get used to it, and the porter sees that they don't break themselves. with love to nettie and harry, and hopes that the pudding will be good. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [in january he went to rome, whence he writes:--] hotel victoria, via dei due macelli, rome, january , . my dear foster, we have been here a fortnight very well lodged--south aspect, fireplace, and all the rest of the essentials except sunshine. of this last there is not much more than in england, and the grey skies day after day are worthy of our native land. sometimes it rains cats and dogs all day by way of a change--as on christmas day--but it is not cold. "quite exceptional weather," they tell us, but that seems to be the rule everywhere. we have done a respectable amount of gallery-slaving, and i have been amusing myself by picking up the topography of ancient rome. i was going to say pagan rome, but the inappropriateness of the distinction strikes me, papal rome being much more stupidly and childishly pagan than imperial. i never saw a sadder sight than the kissing a wretched bedizened doll of a bambino that went on in the ara coeli on twelfth day. your puritan soul would have longed to arise and slay... as to myself, though it is a very unsatisfactory subject and one i am very tired of bothering my friends about, i am like the farmer at the rent-dinner, and don't find myself much "forrarder." that is to say, i am well for a few days and then all adrift, and have to put myself right by dosing with clark's pills, which are really invaluable. they will make me believe in those pills i saw advertised in my youth, and which among other things were warranted to cure "the indecision of juries." i really can't make out my own condition. i walked seven or eight miles this morning over monte mario and out on the campagna without any particular fatigue, and yesterday i was as miserable as an owl in sunshine. something perhaps must be put down to the relapse which our poor girl had a week ago, and which became known to us in a terrible way. she had apparently quite recovered, and arrangements were made for their going abroad, and now everything is upset. i warned her husband that this was very likely, but did not sufficiently take the warning to myself. you are taking a world of trouble for me, and donnelly writes i am to do as i like so far as they are concerned. i have heard nothing from the home office, and i suppose it would be proper for me to write if i want any more leave. i really hardly know what to do. i can't say i feel very fit for the hurly-burly of london just now, but i am not sure that the wholesomest thing for me would not be at all costs to get back to some engrossing work. if my poor girl were well, i could perhaps make something of the dolce far niente, but at present one's mind runs to her when it is not busy in something else. i expect we shall be here a week or ten days more--at any rate, this address is safe--afterwards to florence. what am i to do in the riviera? here and at florence there is always some distraction. you see the problem is complex. my wife, who is very lively, thanks you for your letter (which i have answered) and joins with me in love to mrs. foster and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [writing on the same day to sir j. evans, he proposed a considerable alteration in the duties of the assistant secretary of the royal society.] you know that i served a seven years' apprenticeship as secretary, and that experience gave me very solid grounds for the conviction that, with the present arrangements, a great deal of the time of the secretaries is wasted over the almost mechanical drudgery of proof-reading. [he suggests new arrangements, and proceeds:--] at the same time it would be very important to adopt some arrangement by which the "transactions" papers can be printed independently of one another. why should not the papers be paged independently and be numbered for each year. thus--"huxley idleness and incapacity in italy." "phil. trans." . people grumble at the delay in publication, and are quite right in doing so, though it is impossible under the present system to be more expeditious, and it is not every senior secretary who would slave at the work as stokes does... but it is carrying coals to newcastle to talk of such business arrangements as these to you. the only thing i am strong about, is the folly of going on cutting blocks with our secretarial razors any longer. i am afraid i cannot give a very good account of myself. the truth of the answer to mallock's question "is life worth living?"--that depends on the liver--is being strongly enforced upon me in the hepatic sense of liver, and i must confess myself fit for very little. a week hence we shall migrate to florence and try the effect of the more bracing air. the pincio is the only part of rome that is fit to live in, and unfortunately the government does not offer to build me a house there. however, i have got a great deal of enjoyment out of ancient rome--papal rome is too brutally pagan (and in the worst possible taste too) for me. [to his daughter, mrs. roller.] january , . we have now had nearly three weeks in rome. i am sick of churches, galleries, and museums, and meanly make m-- go and see them and tell me about them. as we are one flesh, it is just the same as if i had seen them. since the time of constantine there has been nothing but tawdry rubbish in the shape of architecture [for his appreciation of the great dome of the pantheon, see below.]--the hopeless bad taste of the papists is a source of continual gratification to me as a good protestant (and something more). as for the skies, they are as changeable as those of england--the only advantage is the absence of frost and snow--(raining cats and dogs this sunday morning). but down to the time of constantine, rome is endlessly interesting, and if i were well i should like to spend some months in exploring it. as it is, i do very little, though i have contrived to pick up all i want to know about pagan rome and the catacombs, which last are my especial weakness. my master and physician is bothered a good deal with eczema--otherwise very lively. all the chief collections in rome are provided with a pair of her spectacles, which she leaves behind. several new opticians' shops are set up on the strength of the purchases in this line she is necessitated to make. i want to be back at work, but i am horribly afraid i should be no good yet. we are thinking of going to florence at the end of this week to see what the drier and colder air there will do. with our dear love to you all--we are wae for a sight of you. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. hotel victoria, via dei due macelli, january , . my dear foster, it seems to me that i am giving my friends a world of trouble... i have had a bad week of it, and the night before last was under the impression that i was about to succumb shortly to a complication of maladies, and moreover, that a wooden box that my wife had just had made would cost thousands of pounds in the way of payment for extra luggage before we reached home. i do not know which hypochondriacal possession was the most depressing. i can laugh at it now, but i really was extraordinarily weak and ill. we had made up our minds to bolt from rome to florence at once, when i suddenly got better, and to-day am all right. so as we hear of snow at florence we shall stop where we are. it has been raining cats and dogs here, and the tiber rose feet and inundated the low grounds. but "cantabit elevatus"; it can't touch us, and at any rate the streets are washed clean. the climate is mild here. we have a capital room and all the sunshine that is to be had, plus a good fire when needful, and at worst one can always get a breezy walk on the pincio hard by. however, about the leave. am i to do anything or nothing? i am dying to get back to steady occupation and english food, and the sort of regimen one can maintain in one's own house. on the other hand, i stand in fear of the bitter cold of february and early march, and still more of the thousand and one worries of london outside one's work. so i suppose it will be better if i keep away till easter, or at any rate to the end of march. but i must hear something definite from the home office. i have written to donnelly to the same effect. my poor marian's relapse did not do us any good, for all that i expected it. however the last accounts are very favourable. i wrote to evans the other day about a re-arrangement of the duties of the secretary and assistant secretary. i thought it was better to write to him than to you on that subject, and i begged him to discuss the matter with the officers. it is quite absurd that stokes and you should waste your time in press drudgery. we are very prudent here, and the climate suits us both, especially my wife, who is so vigorous that i depute her to go and see the palazzi, and tell me all about them when she comes back. old rome is endlessly interesting to me, and i can always potter about and find occupation. i think i shall turn antiquary--it's just the occupation for a decayed naturalist, though you need not tell the treasure i say so. with our love to mrs. foster and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. hotel victoria, via dei due macelli, january , . my dear donnelly, official sentence of exile for two months more (up to may ) arrived yesterday. so if my lords will be so kind as to concur i shall be able to disport myself with a clear conscience. i hope their lordships won't think that i am taking things too easy in not making a regular application, and i will do so if you think it better. but if it had rested with me i think i should have got back in february and taken my chance. that energetic woman that owns me, and michael foster, however, have taken the game out of my hands, and i have nothing to do but to submit. on the whole i feel it is wise. i shall have more chance if i escape not only the cold but the bother of london for a couple of months more. i was very bad a week ago, but i have taken to dosing myself with quinine, and either that or something else has given me a spurt for the last two days, so that i have been more myself than any time since i left, and begin to think that there is life in the old dog yet. if one could only have some fine weather! to-day there is the first real sunshine we have been favoured with for a week. we are just back from a great function at st. peter's. it is the festa of st. peter's chair, and the ex-dragoon cardinal howard has been fugleman in the devout adorations addressed to that venerable article of furniture, which, as you ought to know, but probably don't, is inclosed in a bronze double and perched up in a shrine of the worst possible taste in the tribuna of st. peter's. the display of man-millinery and lace was enough to fill the lightest-minded woman with envy, and a general concert--some of the music very good--prevented us from feeling dull, while the ci-devant guardsman--big, burly, and bullet-headed--made god and then eat him. [a reminiscence of browning in "the bishop orders his tomb":-- and then how i shall lie through centuries, and hear the blessed mutter of the mass, and see god made and eaten all day long.] i must have a strong strain of puritan blood in me somewhere, for i am possessed with a desire to arise and slay the whole brood of idolators whenever i assist at one of these ceremonies. you will observe that i am decidedly better, and have a capacity for a good hatred still. the last news about gordon is delightful. the chances are he will rescue wolseley yet. with our love. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [to his eldest son.] rome, january , . i need hardly tell you that i find rome wonderfully interesting, and the attraction increases the longer one stays. i am obliged to take care of myself and do but little in the way of sight-seeing, but by directing one's attention to particular objects one can learn a great deal without much trouble. i begin to understand old rome pretty well, and i am quite learned in the catacombs, which suit me, as a kind of christian fossils out of which one can reconstruct the body of the primitive church. she was a simple maiden enough and vastly more attractive than the bedizened old harridan of the modern papacy, so smothered under the old clothes of paganism which she has been appropriating for the last fifteen centuries that jesus of nazareth would not know her if he met her. i have been to several great papistical functions--among others to the festa of the cathedra petri in st. peter's last sunday, and i confess i am unable to understand how grown men can lend themselves to such elaborate tomfooleries--nothing but mere fetish worship--in forms of execrably bad taste, devised, one would think, by a college of ecclesiastical man-milliners for the delectation of school-girls. it is curious to notice that intellectual and aesthetic degradation go hand in hand. you have only to go from the pantheon to st. peter's to understand the great abyss which lies between the roman of paganism and the roman of the papacy. i have seen nothing grander than agrippa's work--the popes have stripped it to adorn their own petrified lies, but in its nakedness it has a dignity with which there is nothing to compare in the ill-proportioned, worse decorated tawdry stone mountain on the vatican. the best thing, from an aesthetic point of view, that could be done with rome would be to destroy everything except st. paolo fuori le mure, of later date than the fourth century. but you will have had enough of my scrawl, and your mother wants to add something. she is in great force, and is gone prospecting to some palazzo or other to tell me if it is worth seeing. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. hotel victoria, rome, via dei due macelli, january , . my dear donnelly, best thanks for the telegram which arrived the day before yesterday and set my mind at ease. i have been screwing up the old machine which i inhabit, first with quinine and now with a form of strychnia (which clark told me to take) for the last week, and i have improved a good deal--whether post hoc or proper hoc in the present uncertainty of medical science i decline to give any opinion. the weather is very cold for rome--ice an eighth of an inch thick in the ludovisi garden the other morning, and every night it freezes, but mostly fine sunshine in the day. (this is a remarkable sentence in point of grammar, but never mind.) the day before yesterday we came out on the campagna, and it then was as fresh and bracing a breeze as you could get in northumberland. we are very comfortable and quiet here, and i hold on--till it gets warmer. i am told that florence is detestable at present. as for london, our accounts make us shiver and cough. news about the dynamiting gentry just arrived. a little more mischief and there will be an irish massacre in some of our great towns. if an irish parnellite member were to be shot for every explosion i believe the thing would soon stop. it would be quite just, as they are practically accessories. i think -- would do it if he were prime minister. nothing like a thorough radical for arbitrary acts of power! i must be getting better, as my disgust at science has ceased, and i have begun to potter about roman geology and prehistoric work. you may be glad to learn that there is no evidence that the prehistoric romans had roman noses. but as i cannot find any particular prevalence of them among the modern--or ancient except for caesar--romani, the fact is not so interesting as it might appear, and i would not advise you to tell -- of it. behold a goak--feeble, but promising of better things. my wife unites with me with love to mrs. donnelly and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the following letter refers to the fourth edition of the "lessons in elementary physiology," in the preparation of which dr. foster had been helping during the summer:--] hotel victoria, rome, via dei due macelli, february , . my dear foster, anything more disgraceful than the way in which i have left your letter of more than a fortnight ago unanswered, i don't know. i thought the wife had written about the leave (and she thought i had, as she has told you), but i knew i had not answered the questions about the title, still less considered the awful incubus (x , dinners by hepatic deep objection) of the preface. there is such a thing as justice in this world--not much of it, but still some--and it is partly on that ground and partly because i want you, in view of future eventualities, to have a copyright in the book, that i proposed we should join our names. of course, if you would really rather not, for any good reason you may have, i have nothing further to say. but i don't think that the sentimental reason is a good one, and unless you have a better, i wish you would let the original proposal stand. however, having stated the case afresh i leave it for you to say yes or no, and shall abide by your decision without further discussion. as to the preface. if i am to write it, please send me the old preface. i think the book was published in , or was it ? [in .] and it ought to be come of age or nearly so. you might send me the histological chapter, not that i am going to alter anything, but i should like to see how it looks. i will knock the preface off at once, as soon as i hear from you. the fact is, i have been much better in the course of the last few days. the weather has been very sunshiny but cool and bracing, and i have taken to quinine. tried clark's strychnine, but it did not answer so well. i am in hopes that i have taken a turn for the better, and that there may yet be the making of something better than a growling hypochondriacal old invalid about me. but i am most sincerely glad that i am not obliged to be back days hence--there is not much capital accumulated yet. i find that the italians have been doing an immense deal in prehistoric archaeology of late years, and far more valuable work than i imagined. but it is very difficult to get at, and as loescher's head man told me the other day when i asked for an italian book published in rome, "well, you see it is so difficult to get roman books in rome." i am ashamed to be here two months without paying my respects to the lincei, and i am going to-day. the unaccountable creatures meet at o'clock--lunch time! best love from my wife and self to mrs. foster and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. rome, february , . my dear foster, voila the preface--a work of great labour! and which you may polish and alter as you like, all but the last paragraph. you see i have caved in. i like your asking to have your own way "for once." my wife takes the same line, does whatever she pleases, and then declares i leave her no initiative. if i talk of public affairs, i shall simply fall a-blaspheming. i see the "times" holds out about gordon, and does not believe he is killed. poor fellow! i wish i could believe that his own conviction (as he told me) is true, and that death only means a larger government for him to administer. anyhow, it is better to wind up that way than to go growling out one's existence as a ventose hypochondriac, dependent upon the condition of a few square inches of mucous membrane for one's heaven or hell. as to private affairs, i think i am getting solidly, but very slowly, better. in fact, i can't say there is much the matter with me, except that i am weaker than i ought to be, and that a sort of weary indolence hangs about me like a fog. m-- is wonderfully better, and her husband has taken a house for them at norwood. if i could be rejoiced at anything, i should be at that; but it seems to me as if since that awful journey when i first left england, "the springs was broke," as that vagabond tout said at naples. it has turned very cold here, and we are uncertain when to leave for florence, but probably next week. the carnival is the most entirely childish bosh i have ever met with among grown people. want to finish this now for post, but will write again speedily. moseley's proposition is entirely to my mind, and i have often talked to it. the royal society rooms ought to be house-of-call and quasi-club for all f.r.s. in london. wife is bonny, barring a cold. it is as much as i can do to prevent her sporting a mask and domino! with best love, ever yours, t.h. huxley. hotel victoria, rome, via dei due macelli, february , . my dear donnelly, i have had it on my mind to write to you for the last week--ever since the hideous news about gordon reached us. but partly from a faint hope that his wonderful fortune might yet have stood him in good stead, and partly because there is no great satisfaction in howling with rage, i have abstained. poor fellow! i wonder if he has entered upon the "larger sphere of action" which he told me was reserved for him in case of such a trifling accident as death. of all the people whom i have met with in my life, he and darwin are the two in whom i have found something bigger than ordinary humanity--an unequalled simplicity and directness of purpose--a sublime unselfishness. horrible as it is to us, i imagine that the manner of his death was not unwelcome to himself. better wear out than rust out, and better break than wear out. the pity is that he could not know the feeling of his countrymen about him. i shall be curious to see what defence the super-ingenious premier has to offer for himself in parliament. i suppose, as usual, the question will drift into a brutal party fight, when the furious imbecility of the tories will lead them to spoil their case. that is where we are; on the one side, timid imbecility "waiting for instructions from the constituencies"; furious imbecility on the other, looking out for party advantage. oh! for a few months of william pitt. i see you think there may be some hope that gordon has escaped yet. i am afraid the last telegram from wolseley was decisive. we have been watching the news with the greatest anxiety, and it has seemed only to get blacker and blacker. ... [touching a determined effort to alter the management of certain technical education business.] i trust he may succeed, and that the unfitness of these people to be trusted with anything may be demonstrated. i regret i am not able to help in the good work. get the thing out of their hands as fast as possible. the prospect of being revenged for all the beastly dinners i sat out and all the weary discussions i attended to no purpose, really puts a little life into me. apropos of that, i am better in various ways, but curiously weak and washed out; and i am afraid that not even the prospect of a fight would screw me up for long. i don't understand it, unless i have some organic disease of which nobody can find any trace (and in which i do not believe myself), or unless the terrible trouble we have had has accelerated the advent of old age. i rather suspect that the last speculation is nearest the truth. you will be glad to hear that my poor girl is wonderfully better, and, indeed, to all appearance quite well. they are living quietly at norwood. i shall be back certainly by the th april, probably before. we have found very good quarters here, and have waited for the weather to get warmer before moving; but at last we have made up our minds to begin nomadising again next friday. we go to florence, taking siena, and probably pisa, on our way, and reaching florence some time next week. address--hotel milano, via cerretani. for the last week the carnival has been going on. it strikes me as the most elaborate and dreariest tomfoolery i have ever seen, but i doubt if i am in the humour to judge it fairly. it is only just to say that it entertains my vigorous wife immensely. i have been expecting to see her in mask and domino, but happily this is the last day, and there is no sign of any yet. i have never seen any one so much benefited by rest and change as she is, and that is a good thing for both of us. after florence we shall probably make our way to venice, and come home by the lago di garda and germany. but i will let you know when our plans are settled. with best love from we two to you two. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [to his youngest daughter.] siena, february , . dearest ethel, the cutting you sent me contains one of the numerous "goaks" of a yankee performing donkey who is allowed to disport himself in one of the new york papers. i confess it is difficult to see the point of the joke, but there is one if you look close. i don't think you need trouble to enlighten the simple inquirer. he probably only wanted the indignant autograph which he won't get. the parker museum must take care of itself. the public ought to support it, not the men of science. as a grandfather, i am ashamed of my friends who are of the same standing; but i think they would take it as a liberty if, in accordance with your wish, i were to write to expostulate. after your mother had exhausted the joys of the carnival, she permitted me to leave rome for this place, where we arrived last friday evening. my impression is that if we had stayed in rome much longer we should never have left. there is something idle and afternoony about the air which whittles away one's resolution. the change here is wonderfully to the good. we are perched more than a thousand feet above the sea, looking over the tuscan hills for twenty or thirty miles every way. it is with them enough sit with the window wide open and yet the air is prior and more bracing than in any place we have visited. moreover, the hotel (grande albergo) is very comfortable. then there is one of the most wonderful cathedrals to be seen in all north italy--free from all the gaudy finery and atrocious bad taste which have afflicted me all over south italy. the town is the quaintest place imaginable--built of narrow streets on several steep hills to start with, and then apparently stirred up with a poker to prevent monotony of effect. moreover, there is catherine of siena, of whom i am reading a delightful catholic life by an italian father of the oratory. she died years ago, but she was one of twenty-five children, and i think some of them must have settled in kent and allied themselves with the heathorns. otherwise, i don't see why her method of writing to the pope should have been so much like the way my daughters (especially the youngest) write to their holy father. i wish she had not had the stigmata--i am afraid there must have been a leetle humbug about the business--otherwise she was a very remarkable person, and you need not be ashamed of the relationship. i suppose we shall get to florence some time this week; the address was sent to you before we left rome--hotel milano, via cerretani. but i am loth to leave this lovely air in which, i do believe, i am going to pick up at last. the misfortune is that we did not intend to stay here more than three days, and so had letters sent to florence. everybody told us it would be very cold, and, as usual, everybody told taradiddles. m-- unites in fondest love to you all. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [to his son.] siena, february , . ...if you had taken to physical science it would have been delightful for me for us to have worked together, and i am half inclined to take to history that i may earn that pleasure. i could give you some capital wrinkles about the physical geography and prehistoric history (excuse bull) of italy for a roman history primer! joking apart, i believe that history might be, and ought to be, taught in a new fashion so as to make the meaning of it a process of evolution--intelligible to the young. the italians have been doing wonders in the last twenty years in prehistoric archaeology, and i have been greatly interested in acquainting myself with the general results of their work. we moved here last friday, and only regret that the reports of the weather prevented us from coming sooner. more than feet above the sea, in the midst of a beautiful hill country, and with the clearest and purist air we have met with in italy, siena is perfectly charming. the window is wide open and i look out upon a vast panorama, something like that of the surrey hills, only on a larger scale--"raw siena," "burnt siena," in the foreground, where the colour of the soil is not hidden by the sage green olive foliage, purple mountains in the distance. the old town itself is a marvel of picturesque crookedness, and the cathedral a marvel. m. and i have been devoting ourselves this morning to st. catarina and sodoma's pictures. i am reading a very interesting life of her by capecelatro, and if my liver continues out of order, may yet turn dominican. however, the place seems to be doing me good, and i may yet, like another person, decline to be a monk. [to his daughter, mrs. roller.] march . the great merit of rome is that you have never seen the end of it. m. and i have not worked very hard at our galleries and churches, but i have got so far as a commencing dislike for the fine arts generally. perhaps after a week or two i shall take to science out of sheer weariness. hotel de milano, florence, march , . my dear foster, my wife and i send you our hearty good wishes (antedated by four days). i am not sure we ought not to offer our best thanks to your mother for providing us with as staunch a friend as people ever were blessed with. it is possible that she did not consider that point nine and forty years ago; but we are just as grateful as if she had gone through it all on our own account. we start on our way homeward to-morrow or next day, by bologna to venice, and then to england by the way we came--taking it easy. the brenner is a long way round and i hear very cold. i think we may stay a few days at lugano, which i liked very much when there before. florence is very charming, but there is not much to be said for the climate. my wife has been bothered with sore throat, to which she is especially liable, ever since we have been here. old residents console her with the remark that florentine sore throat is a regular thing in the spring. the alternations of heat and cold are detestable. so we stand thus--naples, bad for both--rome, good for her, bad for me--florence, bad for her, baddish for me. venice has to be tried, but stinks and mosquitoes are sure to render it impossible as soon as the weather is warm. siena is the only place that suited both of us, and i don't think that would exactly answer to live in. nothing like foreign travel for making one content with home. i shall have to find a country lot suited to my fortunes when i am paid off. couldn't you let us have your gardener's cottage? my wife understands poultry and i shall probably have sufficient strength to open the gate and touch my hat to the dons as they drive up. i am afraid e. is not steady enough for waiting-maid or i would offer her services. ...i am rejoiced to hear that the lessons and the questions are launched. [the new edition of the "elementary physiology."] they loom large to me as gigantic undertakings, in which a dim and speculative memory suggests i once took part, but probably it is a solar myth, and i am too sluggish to feel much compunction for the extra trouble you have had. perhaps i shall revive when my foot is on my native heath in the shady groves of the evangelist. [st. john's wood.] my wife is out photograph hunting--nothing diminishes her activity--otherwise she would join in love and good wishes to mrs. foster and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the two worst and most depressing periods of this vain pilgrimage in pursuit of health were the stay at rome and at florence. at the latter town he was inexpressibly ill and weak; but his daily life was brightened by the sympathy and active kindness of sir spencer walpole, who would take him out for short walks, talking as little as possible, and shield him from the well-meant but tactless attentions of visitors who would try to] "rouse him and do him good" [by long talks on scientific questions. his physical condition, indeed, was little improved.] as for my unsatisfactory carcass [he writes on march , to sir j. donnelly], there seems nothing the matter with it now except that the brute objects to work. i eat well, drink well, sleep well, and have no earthly ache, pain or discomfort. i can walk for a couple of hours or more without fatigue. but half an hour's talking wearies me inexpressibly, and "saying a few words," would finish me for the day. for all that, i do not mean to confess myself finally beaten till i have had another try. [that is to say, he was still bent upon delivering his regular course of lectures at south kensington as soon as he returned, in spite of the remonstrances of his wife and his friends. in the same letter he contrasts florence with siena and its] "fresh, elastic air," [its] "lovely country that reminds one of a magnified version of the surrey weald." [the florentine climate was trying. (a week later he writes to sir j. evans--] "i begin to look forward with great satisfaction to the equability of english weather--to that dear little island where doors and windows shut close--where fires warm without suffocating--where the chief business of the population in the streets is something else than expectoration--and where i shall never see fowl with salad again. you perceive i am getting better by this prolonged growl...but half an hour's talking knocks me up, and i am such an effete creature that i think of writing myself p.r.s. with a small p.") "and then there is the awful burden of those miles of 'treasures of art.'" [he had been to the uffizii;] "and there is the pitti staring me in the face like drear fate. why can't i have the moral courage to come back and say i haven't seen it? i should be the most distinguished of men." [there is another reference to gordon:--] what an awful muddle you are all in in the bright little, tight little island. i hate the sight of the english papers. the only good thing that has met my eye lately is a proposal to raise a memorial to gordon. i want to join in whatever is done, and unless it will be time enough when i return, i shall be glad if you will put me down for pounds to whatever is the right scheme. [the following to his daughter, mrs. roller, describes the stay in florence.] hotel de milano, florence, march , . we have been here more than a week and have discovered two things, first that the wonderful "art treasures," of which all the world has heard, are a sore burden to the conscience if you don't go to see them, and an awful trial to the back and legs if you do; and thirdly, that the climate is productive of a peculiar kind of relaxed throat. m.'s throat discovered it, but on inquiry, it proved to be a law of nature, at least, so the oldest inhabitants say. we called on them to-day. but it is a lovely place for all that, far better than rome as a place to live in, and full of interesting things. we had a morning at the uffizii the other day, and came back with minds enlarged and backs broken. to-morrow we contemplate attacking the pitti, and doubt not the result will be similar. by the end of the week our minds will probably be so large, and the small of the back so small that we should probably break if we stayed any longer, so think it prudent to be off to venice. which friday is the day we go, reaching venice saturday or sunday. pension suisse, canal grande, as before. and mind we have letters waiting for us there, or your affectionate pater will emulate the historical "cocky." i got much better at siena, probably the result of the medicinal nature of the city, the name of which, as a well-instructed girl like you knows, is derived from the senna, which grows wild there, and gives the soil its peculiar pigmentary character. but unfortunately i forgot to bring any with me, and the effect went off during the first few days of our residence here, when i was, as the italians say, "molto basso nel bocca." however i am picking up again now, and if people wouldn't call upon us, i feel there might be a chance for me. i except from that remark altogether the dear walpoles who are here and as nice as ever. mrs. walpole's mother and sister live here, and the w's are on a visit to them but leave on wednesday. they go to venice, but only for two or three days. we shall probably stay about a fortnight in venice, and then make our way back by easy stages to london. we are wae to see you all again. doctor m-- [mrs. huxley] has just been called in to a case of sore throat in the person of a young lady here, and is quite happy. the young lady probably will not be, when she finds herself converted into a sort of inverted mustard-pot, with the mustard outside! she is one of a very nice family of girls, who (by contrast) remind us of own. ever your loving (to all) father, pater. mrs. m.-- has just insisted on seeing this letter. [to his youngest daughter.] hotel beau sejour, san remo, march , . dearest babs, we could not stand "beautiful venice the pride of the sea" any longer. it blew and rained and colded for eight-and-forty hours consecutively. everybody said it was a most exceptional season, but that did not make us any warmer or prevent your mother from catching an awful cold. so as soon as she got better we packed up and betook ourselves here by way of milan and genoa. at milan it was so like london on a wet day, that except for the want of smoke we might have been in our dear native land. at genoa we arrived late one afternoon and were off early in the morning--but by dint of taking a tram after dinner (not a dram) and going there and back again we are able to say we have seen that city of palaces. the basements we saw through the tram windows by mixed light of gas and moon may in fact all have belonged to palaces. we are not in a position to say they did not. the quick train from genoa here is believed to go fully twenty-five miles an hour, but starts at a.m., but the early morning air being bad for the health, we took the slow train at . , and got here some time in the afternoon. but mind you it is a full eighty miles, and when we were at full speed between the stations--very few donkeys could have gone faster. but the coast scenery is very pretty, and we didn't mind. here we are very well off and as nearly warm as i expect to be before reaching england. you can sit out in the sun with satisfaction, though there is a little knife-edge of wind just to remind us of florence. everybody, however, tells us it is quite an exceptional season, and that it ought to be the most balmy air imaginable. besides there are no end of date-palms and cactuses and aloes and odorous flowers in the garden--and the loveliest purple sea you can imagine. well, we shall stop some days and give san remo a chance--at least a week, unless the weather turns bad. as to your postcards which have been sent on from venice and are really shabby, i am not going to any dinners whatsoever, either middle temple or academy. just write to both that "mr. h. regrets he is unable to accept the invitation with which -- have honoured him." (it's like putting the shutters up," [he said sadly to his wife, when he felt unable to attend the royal academy dinner as he had done for many years.]) i have really nothing the matter with me now--but my stock of strength is not great, and i can't afford to spend any on dinners. the blessedest thing now will be to have done with the nomadic life of the last five months--and see your ugly faces (so like their dear father) again. i believe it will be the best possible tonic for me. m-- has not got rid of her cold yet, but a few warm days here will, i hope, set her up. i met lady whitworth on the esplanade to-day--she is here with sir joseph, and this afternoon we went to call on her. the poor old man is very feeble and greatly altered since i saw him last. write here on receiving this. we shall take easy stages home, but i don't know that i shall be able to give you any address. m-- sends heaps of love to all (including charles [the cat.]). ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. tell the "micropholis" man that it is a fossil lizard with an armour of small scales. chapter . . . [on april , he landed at folkestone, and stayed there a day or two before going to london. writing to sir j. donnelly, he remarks with great satisfaction at getting home:--] we got here this afternoon after a rather shady passage from boulogne, with a strong north wind in our teeth all the way, and rain galore. for all that, it is the pleasantest journey i have made for a long time--so pleasant to see one's own dear native mud again. there is no foreign mud to come near it. [and on the same day he sums up to sir m. foster the amount of good he has gained from his expedition, and the amount of good any patient is likely to get from travel:--] as for myself i have nothing very satisfactory to say. by the oddest chance we met andrew clark in the boat, and he says i am a very bad colour--which i take it is the outward and visible sign of the inward and carnal state. i may sum that up by saying that there is nothing the matter but weakness and indisposition to do anything, together with a perfect genius for making mountains out of molehills. after two or three fine days at venice, we have had nothing but wet or cold--or hot and cold at the same time, as in that prodigious imposture the riviera. of course it was the same story everywhere, "perfectly unexampled season." moral.--if you are perfectly well and strong, brave italy--but in search of health stop at home. it has been raining cats and dogs, and folkestone is what some people would call dreary. i could go and roll in the mud with satisfaction that it is english mud. it will be jolly to see you again. wife unites in love. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [to return home was not only a great pleasure; it gave him a fillip for the time, and he writes to sir m. foster, april :--] it is very jolly to be home, and i feel better already. clark has just been here overhauling me, and feels very confident that he shall screw me up. i have renounced dining out and smoking (!!!) by way of preliminaries. god only knows whether i shall be permitted more than the smell of a mutton chop for dinner. but i have great faith in andrew, who set me straight before when other "physicians' aid was vain." [but his energy was fitful; lassitude and depression again invaded him. he was warned by sir andrew clark to lay aside all the burden of his work. accordingly, early in may, just after his sixtieth birthday, he sent in his formal resignation of the professorship of biology, and the inspectorship of salmon fisheries; while a few days later he laid his resignation of the presidency before the council of the royal society. by the latter he was begged to defer his final decision, but his health gave no promise of sufficient amendment before the decisive council meeting in october. he writes on may :--] i am convinced that what with my perennial weariness and my deafness i ought to go, whatever my kind friends may say. [a curious effect of his illness was that for the first time in his life he began to shrink involuntarily from assuming responsibilities and from appearing on public occasions; thus he writes on june :--] i am sorry to say that the perkiness of last week was only a spurt [i.e. at the unveiling of the darwin statue at south kensington.], and i have been in a disgusting state of blue devils lately. can't mark out what it is, for i really have nothing the matter, except a strong tendency to put the most evil construction upon everything. i am fairly dreading to-morrow [i.e. receiving the d.c.l. degree at oxford] but why i don't know--probably an attack of modesty come on late in life and consequently severe. very likely it will do me good and make me "fit" for thursday [(i.e. council and ordinary meetings of royal society). and a month later:--] i have been idling in the country for two or three days--but like the woman with the issue, "i am not better but rather worse"--blue devils and funk--funk and blue devils. liver, i expect. [(an ailment of which he says to professor marsh,] "i rather wish i had some respectable disease--it would be livelier.") and again:--] everybody tells me i look so much better, that i am really ashamed to go growling about, and confess that i am continually in a blue funk and hate the thought of any work--especially of scientific or anything requiring prolonged attention. [at the end of july he writes to sir w. flower:--] marlborough place, july , . my dear flower, i am particularly glad to hear that things went right on saturday, as my conscience rather pricked me for my desertion of the meeting. [british museum trustees, july .] but it was the only chance we had of seeing our young married couple before the vacation--and you will rapidly arrive at a comprehension of the cogency of that argument now. i will think well of your kind words about the presidency. if i could only get rid of my eternal hypochondria the work of the royal society would seem little enough. at present, i am afraid of everything that involves responsibility to a degree that is simply ridiculous. i only wish i could shirk the inquiries i am going off to hold in devonshire! p.r.s. in a continual blue funk is not likely to be either dignified or useful; and unless i am in a better frame of mind in october i am afraid i shall have to go. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a few weeks at filey in august did him some good at first; and he writes cheerfully of his lodgings in] "a place with the worst-fitting doors and windows, and the hardest chairs, sofas, and beds known to my experience." [he continues:--] i am decidedly picking up. the air here is wonderful, and as we can set good cookery against hard lying (i don't mean in the munchausen line) the consequent appetite becomes a mild source of gratification. also, i have not met with more than two people who knew me, and that in my present state is a negative gratification of the highest order. [later on he tried bournemouth; being no better, he thought of an entirely new remedy.] the only thing i am inclined to do is to write a book on miracles. i think it might do good and unload my biliary system. [in this state of indecision, so unnatural to him, he writes to sir m. foster:--] i am anything but clear as to the course i had best take myself. while undoubtedly much better in general health, i am in a curious state of discouragement, and i should like nothing better than to remain buried here (bournemouth) or anywhere else, out of the way of trouble and responsibility. it distresses me to think that i shall have to say something definite about the presidency at the meeting of the council in october. [finally on october , he writes:--] i think the lowest point of my curve of ups and downs is gradually rising--but i have by no means reached the point when i can cheerfully face anything. i got over the board of visitors (two hours and a half) better than i expected, but my deafness was a horrid nuisance. i believe the strings of the old fiddle will tighten up a good deal, if i abstain from attempting to play upon the instrument at present--but that a few jigs now will probably ruin that chance. but i will say my final word at our meeting next week. i would rather step down from the chair than dribble out of it. even the devil is in the habit of departing with a "melodious twang," and i like the precedent. [so at the anniversary meeting on november , he definitely announced in his last presidential address his resignation of that] "honourable office" [which he could no longer retain] "with due regard to the interests of the society, and perhaps, i may add, of self-preservation." i am happy to say [he continued] that i have good reason to believe that, with prolonged rest--by which i do not mean idleness, but release from distraction and complete freedom from those lethal agencies which are commonly known as the pleasures of society--i may yet regain so much strength as is compatible with advancing years. but in order to do so, i must, for a long time yet, be content to lead a more or less anchorite life. now it is not fitting that your president should be a hermit, and it becomes me, who have received so much kindness and consideration from the society, to be particularly careful that no sense of personal gratification should delude me into holding the office of its representative one moment after reason and conscience have pointed out my incapacity to discharge the serious duties which devolve upon the president, with some approach to efficiency. i beg leave, therefore, with much gratitude for the crowning honour of my life which you have conferred upon me, to be permitted to vacate the chair of the society as soon as the business of this meeting is at an end. [the settlement of the terms of the pension upon which, after thirty-one years of service under government, he retired from his professorship at south kensington and the inspectorship of fisheries, took a considerable time. the chiefs of his own department, that of education, wished him to retire upon full pay, pounds. the treasury were more economical. it was the middle of june before the pension they proposed of pounds was promised; the end of july before he knew what conditions were attached to it. on june , he writes to mr. mundella, vice-president of the council:--] my dear mundella, accept my warmest thanks for your good wishes, and for all the trouble you have taken on my behalf. i am quite ashamed to have been the occasion of so much negotiation. until i see the treasury letter, i am unable to judge what the pounds may really mean [i.e. whether he was to draw his salary of pounds as dean or not.], but whatever the result, i shall never forget the kindness with which my chiefs have fought my battle. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on july , he writes to sir m. foster:--] the blessed treasury can't make up their minds whether i am to be asked to stay on as dean or not, and till they do, i can't shake off any of my fetters. [early in the year he had written to sir john donnelly of the necessity of resigning:--] nevertheless [he added], it will be a sad day for me when i find myself no longer entitled to take part in the work of the schools in which you and i have so long been interested. [but that "sad day" was not to come yet. his connection with the royal college of science was not entirely severed. he was asked to continue, as honorary dean, a general supervision of the work he had done so much to organise, and he kept the title of professor of biology, his successors in the practical work of the chair being designated assistant professors.] "i retain," [he writes,] "general superintendence as part of the great unpaid." it is a comfort [he writes to his son] to have got the thing settled. my great desire at present is to be idle, and i am now idle with a good conscience. [later in the year, however, a change of ministry having taken place, he was offered a civil list pension of pounds a year by lord iddesleigh. he replied accepting it:--] marlborough place, november , . my dear lord iddesleigh, your letters of the th november reached me only last night, and i hasten to thank you for both of them. i am particularly obliged for your kind reception of what i ventured to say about the deserts of my old friend sir joseph hooker. with respect to your lordship's offer to submit my name to her majesty for a civil list pension, i can but accept a proposal which is in itself an honour, and which is rendered extremely gratifying to me by the great kindness of the expressions in which you have been pleased to embody it. i am happy to say that i am getting steadily better at last, and under the regime of "peace with honour" that now seems to have fallen to my lot, i may fairly hope yet to do a good stroke of work or two. i remain, my dear lord iddesleigh, faithfully yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, november , . my dear donnelly, i believe you have been at work again! lord iddesleigh has written to me to ask if i will be recommended for a civil list pension of pounds a year, a very pretty letter, not at all like the treasury masterpiece you admired so much. didn't see why i should not accept, and have accepted accordingly. when the announcement comes out the liberals will say the tory government have paid me for attacking the g.o.m.! to a dead certainty. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [five days later he replies to the congratulations of mr. eckersley (whose son had married huxley's third daughter):--] ...lord iddesleigh's letter offering to submit my name for an honorary pension was a complete surprise. my chiefs in the late government wished to retire me on full pay, but the treasury did not see their way to it, and cut off pounds a year. naturally i am not sorry to have the loss made good, but the way the thing was done is perhaps the pleasantest part of it. [there was a certain grim appropriateness in his "official death" following hard upon his sixtieth birthday, for sixty was the age at which he had long declared that men of science ought to be strangled, lest age should harden them against the reception of new truths, and make them into clogs upon progress, the worse, in proportion to the influence they had deservedly won. this is the allusion in a birthday letter from sir m. foster:-- reverend sir, so the "day of strangulation" has arrived at last, and with it the humble petition of your friends that you may be induced to defer the "happy despatch" for, say at least ten years, when the subject may again come up for consideration. for your petitioners are respectfully inclined to think that if your sixtyship may be induced so far to become an apostle as to give up the fishery business, and be led to leave the black board at south kensington to others, the t'other side sixty years, may after all be the best years of your life. in any case they would desire to bring under your notice the fact that they feel they want you as much as ever they did. ever thine, m.f. reference has been made to the fact that the honorary degree of d.c.l. was conferred this may upon huxley by the university of oxford. the universities of the sister kingdoms had been the first thus to recognise his work; and after aberdeen and dublin, cambridge, where natural science had earlier established a firm foothold, showed the way to oxford. indeed, it was not until his regular scientific career was at an end, that the university of oxford opened its portals to him. so, as he wrote to professor bartholomew price on may , in answer to the invitation,] "it will be a sort of apotheosis coincident with my official death, which is imminent. in fact, i am dead already, only the treasury charon has not yet settled the conditions upon which i am to be ferried over to the other side." [before leaving the subject of his connection with the royal society, it may be worth while to give a last example of the straightforward way in which he dealt with a delicate point whether to vote or not to vote for his friend sir andrew clark, who had been proposed for election to the society. it occurred just after his return from abroad; he explains his action to sir joseph hooker, who had urged caution on hearing a partial account of the proceedings.] south kensington, april , . my dear hooker, i don't see very well how i could have been more cautious than i have been. i knew nothing of clark's candidature until i saw his name in the list; and if he or his proposer had consulted me, i should have advised delay, because i knew very well there would be a great push made for -- this year. being there, however, it seemed to me only just to say that which is certainly true, namely, that clark has just the same claim as half a dozen doctors who have been admitted without question, e.g. gull, jenner, risdon bennett, on the sole ground of standing in the profession. and i think that so long as that claim is admitted, it will be unjust not to admit clark. so i said what you heard; but i was so careful not to press unduly upon the council, that i warned them of the possible prejudice arising from my own personal obligations to clark's skill, and i went so far as not to put his name in the first list myself, a step which i now regret. if this is not caution enough, i should like to know what is? as clive said when he came back from india, "by god, sir, i am astonished at my own moderation!" if it is not right to make a man a fellow because he holds a first-class place as a practitioner of medicine as the royal society has done since i have known it, let us abolish the practice. but then let us also in justice refuse to recognise the half-and-half claims, those of the people who are third-rate as practitioners, and hang on to the skirts of science without doing anything in it. several of your and my younger scientific friends are bent on bringing in their chum --, and clark's candidature is very inconvenient to them. hence i suspect some of the "outspoken aversion" and criticism of clark's claims you have heard. i am quite willing to sacrifice my friend for a principle, but not for somebody else's friend, and i mean to vote for clark; though i am not going to try to force my notion down any one else's throat. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on the same subject he writes to sir m. foster:--] obedience be hanged. it would not lie in my mouth, as the lawyers say, to object to anybody's getting his own way if he can. if clark had not been a personal friend of mine i should not have hesitated a moment about deciding in his favour. under the circumstances it was quite clear what i should do if i were forced to decide, and i thought it would have been kindly and courteous to the president if he had been let off the necessity of making a decision which was obviously disagreeable to him. if, on the other hand, it was wished to fix the responsibility of what happened on him, i am glad that he had the opportunity of accepting it. i never was more clear as to what was the right thing to do. [so also at other times; he writes in september to sir m. foster, the secretary, with reference to evening gatherings at which smoking should be permitted.] bournemouth, september , . i am not at all sure that i can give my blessing to the "tabagie." when i heard of it i had great doubts as to its being a wise move. it is not the question of "smoke" so much, as the principle of having meetings in the society's rooms, which are not practically (whatever they may be theoretically), open to all the fellows, and which will certainly be regarded as the quasi-private parties of one of the officers. you will have all sorts of jealousies roused, and talk of a clique, etc. when i was secretary the one thing i was most careful to avoid was the appearance of desiring to exert any special influence. but there was a jealousy of the x club, and only the other day, to my great amusement, i was talking to an influential member of the royal society club about the possibility of fusing it with the phil. club, and he said, forgetting i was a member of the latter: "oh! we don't want any of those wire-pullers!" poor dear innocent dull-as-ditchwater phil. club! [mention has already been made of the unveiling of the darwin statue at south kensington on june , when, as president of the royal society, huxley delivered an address in the name of the memorial committee, on handing over the statue of darwin to h.r.h. the prince of wales, as representative of the trustees of the british museum. the concluding words of the speech deserve quotation:--] we do not make this request [i.e. to accept the statue] for the mere sake of perpetuating a memory; for so long as men occupy themselves with the pursuit of truth, the name of darwin runs no more risk of oblivion than does that of copernicus, or that of harvey. nor, most assuredly, do we ask you to preserve the statue in its cynosural position in this entrance hall of our national museum of natural history as evidence that mr. darwin's views have received your official sanction; for science does not recognise such sanctions, and commits suicide when it adopts a creed. no, we beg you to cherish this memorial as a symbol by which, as generation after generation of students enter yonder door, they shall be reminded of the ideal according to which they must shape their lives, if they would turn to the best account of the opportunities offered by the great institution under your charge. [nor was this his only word about darwin. somewhat later, professor mivart sent him the proofs of an article on darwin, asking for his criticism, and received the following reply, which describes better than almost any other document, the nature of the tie which united darwin and his friends, and incidentally touches the question of galileo's recantation:--] november , . my dear mr. mivart, i return your proof with many thanks for your courtesy in sending it. i fully appreciate the good feeling shown in what you have written, but as you ask my opinion, i had better say frankly that my experience of darwin is widely different from yours as expressed in the passages marked with pencil. i have often remarked that i never knew any one of his intellectual rank who showed himself so tolerant to opponents, great and small, as darwin did. sensitive he was in the sense of being too ready to be depressed by adverse comment, but i never knew any one less easily hurt by fair criticism, or who less needed to be soothed by those who opposed him with good reason. i am sure i tried his patience often enough, without ever eliciting more than a "well there's a good deal in what you say; but--" and then followed something which nine times out of ten showed he had gone deeper into the business than i had. i cannot agree with you, again, that the acceptance of darwin's views was in any way influenced by the strong affection entertained for him by many of his friends. what that affection really did was to lead those of his friends who had seen good reason for his views to take much more trouble in his defence and support, and to strike out much harder at his adversary than they would otherwise have done. this is pardonable if not justifiable--that which you suggest would to my mind be neither. i am so ignorant of what has been going on during the last twelvemonth, that i know nothing of your controversy with romanes. if he is going to show the evolution of intellect from sense, he is the man for whom i have been waiting, as kant says. in your paper about scientific freedom, which i read some time ago with much interest, you alluded to a book or article by father roberts on the galileo business. will you kindly send me a postcard to say where and when it was published? i looked into the matter when i was in italy, and i arrived at the conclusion that the pope and the college of cardinals had rather the best of it. it would complete the paradox if father roberts should help me to see the error of my ways. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [august and september, as said above, were spent in england, though with little good effect. filey was not a success for either himself or his wife. bournemouth, where they joined their eldest daughter and her family, offered a] "temperature much more to the taste of both of us," [and at least undid the mischief done by the wet and cold of the north. the mean line of health was gradually rising; it was a great relief to be free at length from administrative distractions, while the retiring pensions removed the necessity of daily toil. by nature he was like the friend whom he described as] "the man to become hipped to death without incessant activity of some sort or other. i am sure that the habit of incessant work into which we all drift is as bad in its way as dram-drinking. in time you cannot be comfortable without the stimulus." [but the variety of interests which filled his mind prevented him from feeling the void of inaction after a busy life. and just as he was at the turning-point in health, he received a fillip which started him again into vigorous activity--the mental tonic bracing up his body and clearing away the depression and languor which had so long beset him. the lively fillip came in the shape of an article in the november "nineteenth century," by mr. gladstone, in which he attacked the position taken up by dr. reville in his "prolegomena to the history of religions," and in particular, attempted to show that the order of creation given in genesis , is supported by the evidence of science. this article, huxley used humorously to say, so stirred his bile as to set his liver right at once; and though he denied the soft impeachment that the ensuing fight was what had set him up, the marvellous curative effects of a gladstonian dose, a remedy unknown to the pharmacopoeia, became a household word among family and friends. his own reply, "the interpreters of genesis and the interpreters of nature," appeared in the december number of the "nineteenth century" ("collected essays" page ). in january mr. gladstone responded with his "proem to genesis," which was met in february by "mr. gladstone and genesis" ("collected essays" page ). not only did he show that science offers no support to the "fourfold" or the "fivefold" or any other order obtained from genesis by mr. gladstone, but in a note appended to his second article he gives what he takes to be the proper sense of the "mosaic" narrative of the creation ( page ), not allowing the succession of phenomena to represent an evolutionary notion, as suggested, of a progress from lower to higher in the scale of being, a notion assuredly not in the mind of the writer, but deducing this order from such ideas as, putting aside our present knowledge of nature, we may reasonably believe him to have held. a vast subsidiary controversy sprang up in the "times" on biblical exegetics; where these touched him at all, as, for instance, when it was put to him whether the difference between the "rehmes" of genesis and "sheh-retz" of leviticus, both translated "creeping things," did not invalidate his argument as to the identity of such "creeping things," he had examined the point already, and surprised his interrogator, who appeared to have raised a very pretty dilemma, by promptly referring him to a well-known hebrew commentator. several letters refer to this passage of arms. on december , he writes to mr. herbert spencer:--] do read my polishing off of the g.o.m. i am proud of it as a work of art, and as evidence that the volcano is not yet exhausted. to lord farrer. marlborough place, december , . my dear farrer, from a scientific point of view gladstone's article was undoubtedly not worth powder and shot. but, on personal grounds, the perusal of it sent me blaspheming about the house with the first healthy expression of wrath known for a couple of years--to my wife's great alarm--and i should have "busted up" if i had not given vent to my indignation; and secondly, all orthodoxy was gloating over the slap in the face which the g.o.m. had administered to science in the person of reville. the ignorance of the so-called educated classes in this country is stupendous, and in the hands of people like gladstone it is a political force. since i became an official of the royal society, good taste seemed to me to dictate silence about matters on which there is "great division among us." but now i have recovered my freedom, and i am greatly minded to begin stirring the fire afresh. within the last month i have picked up wonderfully. if dear old darwin were alive he would say it is because i have had a fight, but in truth the fight is consequence and not cause. i am infinitely relieved by getting rid of the eternal strain of the past thirty years, and hope to get some good work done yet before i die, so make ready for the part of the judicious bottle-holder which i have always found you. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., january , . my dear farrer, my contribution to the next round was finished and sent to knowles a week ago. i confess it to have been a work of supererogation; but the extreme shiftiness of my antagonist provoked me, and i was tempted to pin him and dissect him as an anatomico-psychological exercise. may it be accounted unto me for righteousness, though i laughed so much over the operation that i deserve no credit. i think your notion is a very good one, and i am not sure that i shall not try to carry it out some day. in the meanwhile, however, i am bent upon an enterprise which i think still more important. after i have done with the reconcilers, i will see whether theology cannot be told her place rather more plainly than she has yet been dealt with. however, this between ourselves, i am seriously anxious to use what little stuff remains to me well, and i am not sure that i can do better service anywhere than in this line, though i don't mean to have any more controversy if i can help it. (don't laugh and repeat darwin's wickedness.) ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [however, this] "contribution to the next round" [seemed to the editor rather too pungent in tone. accordingly huxley revised it, the letters which follow describing the process:--] marlborough place, n.w., january , . my dear knowles, i will be with you at . . i spent three mortal hours this morning taming my wild cat. he is now castrated; his teeth are filed, his claws are cut, he is taught to swear like a "mieu"; and to spit like a cough; and when he is turned out of the bag you won't know him from a tame rabbit. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., january , . my dear knowles, here is the debonnaire animal finally titivated, and i quite agree, much improved, though i mourn the loss of some of the spice. but it is an awful smash as it stands--worse than the first, i think. i shall send you the manuscript of the "evolution of theology" to-day or to-morrow. it will not do to divide it, as i want the reader to have an apercu of the whole process from samuel of israel to sammy of oxford. i am afraid it will make thirty or thirty-five pages, but it is really very interesting, though i say it as shouldn't. please have it set up in slip, though, as it is written after the manner of a judge's charge, the corrections will not be so extensive, nor the strength of language so well calculated to make a judicious editor's hair stand on end, as was the case with the enclosed (in its unregenerate state). ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. [some time later, on september , , writing to mr. hyde clarke, the philologist, who was ten years his senior, he remarks on his object in undertaking this controversy:--] i am glad to see that you are as active-minded as ever. i have no doubt there is a great deal in what you say about the origin of the myths in genesis. but my sole point is to get the people who persist in regarding them as statements of fact to understand that they are fools. the process is laborious, and not yet very fruitful of the desired conviction. to sir joseph prestwich. marlborough place, n.w., january , . my dear prestwich, accept my best thanks for the volume of your geology, which has just reached me. i envy the vigour which has led you to tackle such a task, and i have no doubt that when i turn to your book for information i shall find reason for more envy in the thoroughness with which the task is done. i see mr. gladstone has been trying to wrest your scripture to his own purposes, but it is no good. neither the fourfold nor the fivefold nor the sixfold order will wash. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. to professor poulton [hope professor of zoology at oxford.]. marlborough place, february , . dear mr. poulton, i return herewith the number of the "expositor" with many thanks. canon driver's article contains as clear and candid a statement as i could wish of the position of the pentateuchal cosmogony from his point of view. if he more thoroughly understood the actual nature of paleontological succession--i mean the species by species replacement of old forms by new,--and if he more fully appreciated the great gulf fixed between the ideas of "creation" and of "evolution," i think he would see ( ) that the pentateuch and science are more hopelessly at variance than even he imagines, and ( ) that the pentateuchal cosmogony does not come so near the facts of the case as some other ancient cosmogonies, notably those of the old greek philosophers. practically, canon driver, as a theologian and hebrew scholar, gives up the physical truth of the pentateuchal cosmogony altogether. all the more wonderful to me, therefore, is the way in which he holds on to it as embodying theological truth. so far as this question is concerned, on all points which can be tested, the pentateuchal writer states that which is not true. what, therefore, is his authority on the matter--creation by a deity--which cannot be tested? what sort of "inspiration" is that which leads to the promulgation of a fable as divine truth, which forces those who believe in that inspiration to hold on, like grim death, to the literal truth of the fable, which demoralises them in seeking for all sorts of sophistical shifts to bolster up the fable, and which finally is discredited and repudiated when the fable is finally proved to be a fable? if satan had wished to devise the best means of discrediting "revelation" he could not have done better. have you not forgotten to mention the leg of archaeopteryx as a characteristically bird-like structure? it is so, and it is to be recollected that at present we know nothing of the greater part of the skeletons of the older mesozoic mammals--only teeth and jaws. what the shoulder-girdle of stereognathus might be like is uncertain. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letters have a curious interest as showing what, in the eyes of a supporter of educational progress, might and might not be done at oxford to help on scientific education:--] to the master of balliol. marlborough place, december , . my dear master [this is from the first draft of the letter. huxley's letters to jowett were destroyed by jowett's orders, together with the rest of his correspondence.], i have been talking to some of my friends about stimulating the royal society to address the universities on the subject of giving greater weight to scientific acquirements, and i find that there is a better prospect than i had hoped for of getting president and council to move. but i am not quite sure about the course which it will be wisest for us to adopt, and i beg a little counsel on that matter. i presume that we had better state our wishes in the form of a letter to the vice-chancellor, and that we may prudently ask for the substitution of modern languages (especially german) and elementary science for some of the subjects at present required in the literary part of the examinations of the scientific and medical faculties. if we could gain this much it would be a great step, not only in itself, but in its reaction on the schools. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, december , . my dear foster, please read the enclosed letter from jowett (confidentially). i had suggested the possibility of diminishing the greek and latin for the science and medical people, but that, you see, he won't have. but he is prepared to load the classical people with science by way of making things fair. it may be worth our while to go in for this, and trust to time for the other. what say you? merry christmas to you. the g.o.m. is going to reply, so i am likely to have a happy new year! i expect some fun, and i mean to make it an occasion for some good earnest. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [so ends , and with it closes another definite period of huxley's life. free from official burdens and official restraints, he was at liberty to speak out on any subject; his strength for work was less indeed, but his time was his own; there was hope that he might still recover his health for a few more years. and though the ranks of his friends were beginning to thin, though he writes (may , to professor bartholomew price):--] the "gaps" are terrible accompaniments of advancing life. it is only with age that one realises the full truth of goethe's quatrain:-- eine bruche ist ein jeder tag, etc. [and again:--] the x club is going to smithereens, as if a charge of dynamite had been exploded in the midst of it. busk is slowly fading away. tyndall is, i fear, in a bad way, and i am very anxious about hooker:-- [still the club hung together for many years, and outside it were other devoted friends, who would have echoed dr. foster's good wishes on the last day of the year:-- a happy new year! and many of them, and may you more and more demonstrate the folly of strangling men at sixty. chapter . . . [the controversy with mr. gladstone indicates the nature of the subject that huxley took up for the employment of his newly obtained leisure. chequered as this leisure was all through the year by constant illness, which drove him again and again to the warmth of bournemouth or the brisk airs of the yorkshire moors in default of the sovereign medicine of the alps, he managed to write two more controversial articles this year, besides a long account of the "progress of science," for mr. t. humphry ward's book on "the reign of queen victoria," which was to celebrate the jubilee year . examinations--for the last time, however--the meetings of the eton governing body, the business of the science schools, the senate of the london university, the marine biological association, the council of the royal society, and a round dozen of subsidiary committees, all claimed his attention. even when driven out of town by his bad health, he would come up for a few days at a time to attend necessary meetings. one of the few references of this period to biological research is contained in a letter to professor pelseneer of ghent, a student of the mollusca, who afterwards completed for huxley the long unfinished monograph on "spirula" for the "challenger" report.] marlborough place, january , . dear sir, accept my best thanks for the present of your publications. as you may imagine, i find that on the cretaceous crustaceans very interesting. it was a rare chance to find the branchiae preserved. i am glad to be able to send you a copy of my memoir on the morphology of the mollusca. it shows signs of age outside, but i beg you to remember that it is years old. i am rejoiced to think you find it still worth consulting. it has always been my intention to return to the subject some day, and to try to justify my old conclusions--as i think they may be justified. but it is very doubtful whether my intention will now ever be carried into effect. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [mr. gladstone's second article appeared in the january number of the "nineteenth century," to this the following letter refers:--] marlborough place, n.w., january , . my dear skelton, thanks for your capital bit of chaff. i took a thought and began to mend (as burns' friend and my prototype (g.o.m.) is not yet recorded to have done) about a couple of months ago, and then gladstone's first article caused such a flow of bile that i have been the better for it ever since. i need not tell you i am entirely crushed by his reply--still the worm will turn and there is a faint squeak (as of a rat in the mouth of a terrier) about to be heard in the next "nineteenth." but seriously, it is to me a grave thing that the destinies of this country should at present be seriously influenced by a man, who, whatever he may be in the affairs of which i am no judge--is nothing but a copious shuffler, in those which i do understand. with best wishes to mrs. skelton and yourself, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [with the article in the february number of the "nineteenth century," he concluded his tilt with mr. gladstone upon the interpretation of genesis. his supposed] "unjaded appetite" [for controversy was already satiated; and he begged leave to retire from] "that 'atmosphere of contention' in which mr. gladstone has been able to live, alert and vigorous beyond the common race of men, as if it were purest mountain air," [for the] "elysium" of scientific debate, which "suits my less robust constitution better." [a vain hope. little as he liked controversy at bottom, in spite of the skill--it must be allowed, at times, a pleasurable skill--in using the weapons of debate, he was not to avoid it any more than he was to avoid the east wind when he went to bournemouth from early in february till the end of march, of which he writes on february :--] the "english naples" is rather florentine so far as a bitter cold east wind rather below than above degrees c. goes, but from all i hear it is a deal better than london, and i am picking up in spite of it. i wish i were a holothuria, and could get on without my viscera. i should do splendidly then. [here he wrote a long article on the "evolution of theology" ("collected essays" ) which appeared in the march and april numbers of the "nineteenth century." it was a positive statement of the views he had arrived at, which underlay the very partial--and therefore misleading--exposition of them possible in controversy. he dealt with the subject, not with reference to the truth or falsehood of the notions under review, but purely as a question of anthropology,] "a department of biology to which i have at various times given a good deal of attention." [starting with the familiar ground of the hebrew scriptures, he thus explains the paleontological method he proposes to adopt:--] in the venerable record of ancient life, miscalled a book, when it is really a library comparable to a selection of works from english literature between the times of beda and those of milton, we have the stratified deposits (often confused and even with their natural order inverted) left by the stream of the intellectual and moral life of israel during many centuries. and, embedded in these strata, there are numerous remains of forms of thought which once lived, and which, though often unfortunately mere fragments, are of priceless value to the anthropologist. our task is to rescue these from their relatively unimportant surroundings, and by careful comparison with existing forms of theology to make the dead world which they record live again. [a subsequent letter to professor lewis campbell bears upon this essay. it was written in answer to an inquiry prompted by the comparison here drawn between the primitive spiritual theories of the books of judges and samuel, and the very similar development of ideas among the tongans, as described by mariner, who lived many years among the natives.] hodeslea, october , . my dear campbell, i took a good deal of trouble years ago to satisfy myself about the point you mention, and i came to the conclusion that mariner was eminently trustworthy, and that martin was not only an honest, but a shrewd and rather critical, reporter. the story he tells about testing mariner's version of king theebaw's oration shows his frame of mind (and is very interesting otherwise in relation to oral tradition). i have a lot of books about polynesia, but of all i possess and have read, mariner is to my mind the most trustworthy. the missionaries are apt to colour everything, and they never have the chance of knowing the interior life as mariner knew it. it was this conviction that led me to make mariner my cheval de bataille in "evolution of theology." i am giving a good deal of trouble--ill for the last week, and at present with a sharp lumbago! so nice! with our love to mrs. campbell and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the circumstances under which the following letter was written are these. the activity of the home rulers and the lethargy of unionists had caused one side only of the great question then agitating english politics to be represented in the american press, with the result that the funds of the nationalists were swelled by subscriptions from persons who might have acted otherwise if the arguments on the other side had been adequately laid before them. mr. albert grey, m.p., therefore had arranged for a series of clear, forcible pronouncements from strong representative englishmen against a separate parliament, to be cabled over to new york to a syndicate of influential newspapers, and his american advisers desired that the opening statement should be from huxley. although it will be seen from the letter that he would not undertake this task, mr. grey showed the letter to one or two of the leading liberal unionists to strengthen their hands, and begged permission to publish it for the benefit of the whole party. accordingly, it appeared in the "times" of april , .] casalini, w. bournemouth, march , . dear mr. grey, i am as much opposed to the home rule scheme as any one can possibly be, and if i were a political man i would fight against it as long as i had any breath left in me; but i have carefully kept out of the political field all my life, and it is too late for me now to think of entering it. anxious watching of the course of affairs for many years past has persuaded me that nothing short of some sharp and sweeping national misfortune will convince the majority of our countrymen that government by average opinion is merely a circuitous method of going to the devil; and that those who profess to lead but in fact slavishly follow this average opinion are simply the fastest runners and the loudest squeakers of the herd which is rushing blindly down to its destruction. it is the electorate, and especially the liberal electorate, which is responsible for the present state of things. it has no political education. it knows well enough that and won't make in a ledger, and that sentimental stealing in private life is not to be tolerated; but it has not been taught the great lesson in history that there are like verities in national life, and hence it easily falls a prey to any clever and copious fallacy-monger who appeals to its great heart instead of reminding it of its weak head. politicians have gone on flattering and cajoling this chaos of political incompetence until the just penalty of believing their own fictions has befallen them, and the average member of parliament is conscientiously convinced that it is his duty, not to act for his constituents to the best of his judgment, but to do exactly what they, or rather the small minority which drives them, tells him to do. have we a real statesman? a man of the calibre of pitt or burke, to say nothing of strafford or pym, who will stand up and tell his countrymen that this disruption of the union is nothing but a cowardly wickedness--an act bad in itself, fraught with immeasurable evil--especially to the people of ireland; and that if it cost his political existence, or his head, for that matter, he is prepared to take any and every honest means of preventing the mischief? i see no sign of any. and if such a man should come to the front what chance is there of his receiving loyal and continuous support from a majority of the house of commons? i see no sign of any. there was a time when the political madness of one party was sure to be checked by the sanity, or at any rate the jealousy of the other. at the last election i should have voted for the conservatives (for the first time in my life) had it not been for lord randolph churchill; but i thought that by thus jumping out of the gladstonian frying-pan into the churchillian fire i should not mend matters, so i abstained altogether. mr. parnell has great qualities. for the first time the irish malcontents have a leader who is not eloquent, but who is honest; who knows what he wants and faces the risks involved in getting it. our poor right honourable rhetoricians are no match for this man who understands realities. i believe also that mr. parnell's success will destroy the english politicians who permit themselves to be his instruments, as soon as bitter experience of the consequences has brought englishmen and scotchmen (and i will add irishmen) to their senses. i suppose one ought not to be sorry for that result, but there are men among them over whose fall all will lament. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [some of the newspapers took these concluding paragraphs to imply support of parnell, so that at the end of june he writes:--] the "tribune" man seems to have less intelligence than might be expected. i spoke approvingly of the way in which parnell had carried out his policy, which is rather different from approving the policy itself. but these newspaper scribes don't take the trouble to understand what they read. [while at bournemouth he also finished and sent off to the "youth's companion," an american paper, an article on the evolution of certain types of the house, called "from the hut to the pantheon." beginning with a description of the pantheon, that characteristically roman work with its vast dome, so strongly built that it is the only great dome remaining without a flaw:--] for a long time [he says] i was perplexed to know what it was about the proportions of the interior of the pantheon which gave me such a different feeling from that made by any other domed space i had ever entered. [the secret of this he finds in the broad and simple design peculiar to the building, and then shows in detail how:--] the round hut, the aedes vestae, and the pantheon are so many stages in a process of architectural evolution which was effected between the first beginnings of roman history and the augustan age. [the relation between the beehive hut, the terremare, and the pile-dwellings of italy lead to many suggestive bits of early anthropology, which, it may be hoped, bore fruit in the minds of some of his youthful readers. we find him also reading over proofs for mr. herbert spencer, who, although he might hesitate to ask for his criticism with respect to a subject on which they had a "standing difference," still:-- concluded that to break through the long-standing usage, in pursuance of which i have habitually submitted my biological writing to your castigation, and so often profited by so doing, would seem like a distrust of your candour--a distrust which i cannot entertain. so he wrote in january; and on march he wrote again, with another set of proofs:-- toujours l'audace! more proofs to look over. don't write a critical essay, only marginal notes. perhaps you will say, like the roman poet to the poetaster who asked him to erase any passages he did not like, and who replied, "one erasure will suffice"--perhaps you will say, "there needs only one marginal note." to this he received answer:--] casalini, w. bournemouth, march , . my dear spencer, more power to your elbow! you will find my blessing at the end of the proof. but please look very carefully at some comments which are not merely sceptical criticisms, but deal with matters of fact. i see the difference between us on the speculative question lies in the conception of the primitive protoplasm. i conceive it as a mechanism set going by heat--as a sort of active crystal with the capacity of giving rise to a great number of pseudomorphs; and i conceive that external conditions favour one or the other pseudomorph, but leave the fundamental mechanism untouched. you appear to me to suppose that external conditions modify the machinery, as if by transferring a flour-mill into a forest you could make it into a saw-mill i am too much of a sceptic to deny the possibility of anything--especially as i am now so much occupied with theology--but i don't see my way to your conclusion. and that is all the more reason why i don't want to stop you from working it out, or rather to make the "one erasure" you suggest. for as to stopping you, "ten on me might," as the navvy said to the little special constable who threatened to take him into custody. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. warmth and sea-fogs here for a variety. [one more letter may be given from this time at bournemouth--a letter to his eldest daughter on the loss of her infant son:--] casalini, w. bournemouth, march , . it's very sad to lose your child just when he was beginning to bind himself to you, and i don't know that it is much consolation to reflect that the longer he had wound himself up in your heart-strings the worse the tear would have been, which seems to have been inevitable sooner or later. one does not weigh and measure these things while grief is fresh, and in my experience a deep plunge into the waters of sorrow is the hopefullest way of getting through them on to one's daily road of life again. no one can help another very much in these crises of life; but love and sympathy count for something, and you know, dear child, that you have these in fullest measure from us. [on coming up to london in april he was very busy, among other things, with a proposal that the marine biological association, of which he was president, should urge the government to appoint a scientific adviser to the fishery board. a letter of his on this subject had appeared in the "times" for march . there seemed to him, with his practical experience of official work, insuperable objections to the status of such an officer. above all, he would be a representative of science in name, without any responsibility to the body of scientific men in the country. some of his younger colleagues on the council, who had not enjoyed the same experience, thought that he had set aside their expressions of opinion too brusquely, and begged sir m. foster, as at once a close friend of his, and one to whose opinion he paid great respect, to make representations to him on their behalf, which he did in writing, being kept at home by a cold. to this letter, in which his friend begged him not to be vexed at a very plain statement of the other point of view, but to make it possible for the younger men to continue to follow his lead, he replied:--] marlborough place, april , . my dear foster, mrs. foster is quite right in looking sharp after your colds, which is very generous of me to say, as i am down in the mouth and should have been cheered by a chat. i am very glad to know what our younger friends are thinking about. i made up my mind to some such result of the action i have thought it necessary to take. but i have no ambition to lead, and no desire to drive them, and if we can't agree, the best way will be to go our ways separately... heaven forbid that i should restrain anybody from expressing any opinion in the world. but it is so obvious to me that not one of our friends has the smallest notion of what administration in fishery questions means, or of the danger of creating a scientific frankenstein in that which he is clamouring for, that i suppose i have been over-anxious to prevent mischief, and seemed domineering. well, i shall mend my ways. i must be getting to be an old savage if you think it risky to write anything to me. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [but he did not stay long in london. by april he was off to ilkley, where he expected to stay] "for a week or two, perhaps longer." [on the th he writes to sir m. foster:--] i was beginning to get wrong before we left bournemouth, and went steadily down after our return to london, so that i had to call in a very shrewd fellow who attends my daughter m--. last monday he told me that more physicking was no good, and that i had better be off here, and see what exercise and the fresh air of the moors would do for me. so here i came, and mean to give the place a fair trial. i do a minimum of ten miles per diem without fatigue, and as i eat, drink, and sleep well, there ought to be nothing the matter with me. why, under these circumstances, i should never feel honestly cheerful, or know any other desire than that of running away and hiding myself, i don't know. no explanation is to be found even in foster's "physiology!" the only thing my demon can't stand is sharp walking, and i will give him a dose of that remedy when once i get into trim. [indeed he was so much better even after a single day at ilkley, that he writes home:--] it really seems to me that i am an imposter for running away, and i can hardly believe that i felt so ill and miserable four-and-twenty hours ago. [and on the th he writes to sir m. foster:--] i have been improving wonderfully in the last few days. yesterday i walked to bolton abbey, the strid, etc., and back, which is a matter of sixteen miles, without being particularly tired, though the afternoon sun was as hot as midsummer. it is the old story--a case of candle-snuff--some infernal compound that won't get burnt up without more oxygenation than is to be had under ordinary conditions... i want to be back and doing something, and yet have a notion that i should be wiser if i stopped here a few weeks and burnt up my rubbish effectually. a good deal will depend upon whether i can get my wife to join me or not. she has had a world of worry lately. [as to his fortunate choice of an hotel,] "i made up my mind," [he writes,] "to come to this hotel merely because bradshaw said it was on the edge of the moor--but for once acting on an advertisement turned out well." [the moor ran up six or seven hundred feet just outside the garden, and the hotel itself was well outside and above the town and the crowd of visitors. here, with the exception of a day or two in may, and a fortnight at the beginning of june, he stayed till july, living as far as possible an outdoor life, and getting through a fair amount of correspondence. it was not to be expected that he should long remain unknown, and he was sometimes touched, more often bored, by the forms which this recognition took. thus two days after his arrival he writes home:--] sitting opposite to me at the table d'hote here is a nice old scotch lady. people have found out my name here by this time, and yesterday she introduced herself to me, and expressed great gratitude for the advice i gave to a son of hers two or three years ago. i had great difficulty in recollecting anything at all about the matter, but it seems the youngster wanted to go to africa, and i advised him not to, at any rate at present. however, the poor fellow went, and died, and they seem to have found a minute account of his interview with me in his diary. [but all were not of this kind. on the th he writes:--] i took a three hours' walk over the moors this morning with nothing but grouse and peewits for company, and it was perfectly delicious. i am beginning to forget that i have a liver, and even feel mildly disposed to the two fools of women between whom i have to sit every meal. th. ...i wish you would come here if only for a few days--it would do you a world of good after your anxiety and wear and tear for the last week. and you say you are feeling weak. please come and let me take care of you a bit; i am sure the lovely air here would set you up. i feel better than i have for months... the country is lovely, and in a few days more all the leaves will be out. you can almost hear them bursting. now come down on saturday and rejoice the "sair een" of your old husband who is wearying for you. [another extract from the same correspondence expresses his detestation for a gross breach of confidence:--] april . ...i have given mr. -- a pretty smart setting down for sending me ruskin's letter to him! it really is iniquitous that such things should be done. ruskin has a right to say anything he likes in a private letter and -- must be a perfect cad to send it on to me. [the following letter on the ideal of a paleontological museum is a specialised and improved version of his earlier schemes on the same subject:--] marlborough place, may , . my dear foster, i cannot find hughes' letter, and fancy i must have destroyed it. so i cannot satisfy newton as to the exact terms of his question. but i am quite clear that my answer was not meant to recommend any particular course for cambridge, when i know nothing about the particular circumstances of the case, but referred to what i should like to do if i had carte blanche. it is as plain as the nose on one's face (mine is said to be very plain) that zoological and botanical collections should illustrate ( ) morphology, ( ) geographical distribution, ( ) geological succession. it is also obvious to me that the morphological series ought to contain examples of all the extinct types in their proper places. but i think it will be no less plain to any one who has had anything to do with geology and paleontology that the great mass of fossils is to be most conveniently arranged stratigraphically. the jermyn st. museum affords an example of the stratigraphical arrangement. i do not know that there is anywhere a collection arranged according to provinces of geographical distribution. it would be a great credit to cambridge to set the example of having one. if i had a free hand in cambridge or anywhere else i should build (a) a museum, open to the public, and containing three strictly limited and selected collections; one morphologically, one geographically, and one stratigraphically arranged; and (b) a series of annexes arranged for storage and working purposes to contain the material which is of no use to any but specialists. i am convinced that this is the only plan by which the wants of ordinary people can be supplied efficiently, while ample room is afforded for additions to any extent without large expense in building. on the present plan or no plan, museums are built at great cost, and in a few years are choked for want of room. if you have the opportunity, i wish you would explain that i gave no opinion as to what might or might not be expedient under present circumstances at cambridge. i do not want to seem meddlesome. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. don't forget cayley. n.b.--as my meaning seems to have been misunderstood i wish, if you have the chance, you would make it clear that i do not want three brick and mortar museums--but one public museum--containing a threefold collection of typical forms, a biological trinity in unity in fact. it might conciliate the clerics if you adopted this illustration. but as your own, mind. i should not like them to think me capable of it. [however, even ilkley was not an infallible cure. thus he writes to sir m. foster:--] may . i am ashamed of myself for not going to town to attend the government grant committee and council, but i find i had better stop here till the end of the month, when i must return for a while anyhow. i have improved very much here, and so long as i take heaps of exercise every day i have nothing to complain of beyond a fit of blue devils when i wake in the morning. but i don't want to do any manner of work, still less any manner of play, such as is going on in london at this time of year, and i think i am wise to keep out of it as long as i can. i wish i knew what is the matter with me. i feel always just on the verge of becoming an absurd old hypochondriac, and as if it only wanted a touch to send me over. may . ...the blue devils worry me far less than they did. if there were any herd of swine here i might cast them out altogether, but i expect they would not go into blackfaced sheep. i am disposed to stop not more than ten days in london, but to come back here and bring some work with me. in fact i do not know that i should return yet if it were not that i do not wish to miss our usual visit to balliol, and that my spanish daughter is coming home for a few months... i am overwhelmed at being taken at my word about scientific federation. [i.e. a federation between the royal society and scientific societies in the colonies.] "something will transpire" as old gutzlaff [this worthy appears to have been an admiral on the china station about .] said when he flogged plaintiff, defendant and witnesses in an obscure case. p.s.--i have had an invitation from -- to sign "without committing myself to details" an approbation of his grand scheme. [for the reorganisation of the fisheries department.] a stupendous array of names appear thus committed to the "principle of the bill." i prefer to be the hartington of the situation. [during this first stay in london he wrote twice to mr. herbert spencer, from whom he had received not only some proofs, as before, on biological points, but others from his unpublished autobiography. after twice reading these, huxley had merely marked a couple of paragraphs containing personal references which might possibly be objectionable] "to the 'heirs, administrators and assigns,' if there are any, or to the people themselves if they are living still." [he continues, june :--] you will be quite taken aback at getting a proof from me with so few criticisms, but even i am not so perverse as to think that i can improve your own story of your own life! i notice a curious thing. if ransom [dr. ransom of nottingham.] had not overworked himself, i should probably not be writing this letter. for if he had worked less hard i might have been first and he second at the examination at the university of london in . in which case i should have obtained the exhibition, should not have gone into the navy, and should have forsaken science for practice... [again on june :--] my dear spencer, here's a screed for you! i wish you well through it. mind i have no a priori objection to the transmission of functional modifications whatever. in fact, as i told you, i should rather like it to be true. but i argued against the assumption (with darwin as i do with you) of the operation of a factor which, if you will forgive me for saying so, seems as far off support by trustworthy evidence now as ever it was. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on the same day he wrote to mr., afterwards sir john, skelton:--] marlborough place, london, n.w., june , . my dear skelton, a civil question deserves a civil answer--yes. i am sorry to say i know--nobody better--"what it is to be unfit for work." i have been trying to emerge from that condition, first at bournemouth, and then at ilkley, for the last five months, with such small success that i find a few days in london knocks me up, and i go back to the yorkshire moors next week. we have no water-hens there--nothing but peewits, larks, and occasional grouse--but the air and water are of the best, and the hills quite high enough to bring one's muscles into play. i suppose that nebuchadnezzar was quite happy so long as he grazed and kept clear of babylon; if so, i can hold him for my scripture parallel. i wish i could accept your moral number , but there is amazingly little evidence of "reverential care for unoffending creation" in the arrangements of nature, that i can discover. if our ears were sharp enough to hear all the cries of pain that are uttered in the earth by men and beasts, we should be deafened by one continuous scream! and yet the wealth of superfluous loveliness in the world condemns pessimism. it is a hopeless riddle. ever yours, t.h. huxley. please remember me to mrs. skelton. [the election of a new headmaster (dr. warre) at eton, where he was a member of the governing body, was a matter of no small concern to him at this moment. some parts of the existing system seemed impossible to alter, though a reform in the actual scheme and scope of teaching seemed to him both possible and necessary for the future well-being of the school. he writes to his eldest son on july , :--] the whole system of paying the eton masters by the profits of the boarding-houses they keep is detestable to my mind, but any attempt to alter it would be fatal. ...i look to the new appointment with great anxiety. it will make or mar eton. if the new headmaster has the capacity to grasp the fact that the world has altered a good deal since the eton system was invented, and if he has the sense to adapt eton to the new state of things, without letting go that which was good in the old system, eton may become the finest public school in the country. if on the contrary he is merely a vigorous representative of the old system pure and simple, the school will go to the dogs. i think it is not unlikely that there may be a battle in the governing body over the business, and that i shall be on the losing side. but i am used to that, and shall do what i think right nevertheless. [the same letter contains his reply to a suggestion that he should join a society whose object was to prevent a railway from being run right through the lake district.] i am not much inclined to join the "lake district defence society." i value natural beauty as much as most people--indeed i value it so much, and think so highly of its influence that i would make beautiful scenery accessible to all the world, if i could. if any engineering or mining work is projected which will really destroy the beauty of the lakes, i will certainly oppose it, but i am not disposed, as goschen said, to "give a blank cheque" to a defence society, the force of which is pretty certain to be wielded by the most irrational fanatics amongst its members. only the other day i walked the whole length of bassenthwaite from keswick and back, and i cannot say that the little line of rails which runs along the lake, now coming into view and now disappearing, interfered with my keen enjoyment of the beauty of the lake any more than the macadamised road did. and if it had not been for that railway i should not have been able to make keswick my headquarters, and i should have lost my day's delight. people's sense of beauty should be more robust. i have had apocalyptic visions looking down oxford street at a sunset before now. ever, dear lad, your loving father, t.h. huxley. [after this he took his wife to harrogate,] "just like clapham common on a great scale," [where she was ordered to drink the waters. for himself, it was as good as ilkley, seeing that he needed] "nothing but fresh air and exercise, and just as much work that interests me as will keep my mind from getting 'blue mouldy.'" [the work in this case was the chapter in the life of charles darwin, which he had promised mr. f. darwin to finish before going abroad. on july , he writes to sir m. foster on the rejection of the home rule bill:--] the smashing of the g.o.m. appears to be pretty complete, though he has unfortunately enough left to give him the means of playing an ugly game of obstruction in the next parliament. you have taken the shine out of my exultation at lubbock's majority--though i confess i was disheartened to see so many educated men going in for the disruption policy. if it were not for randolph i should turn tory, but that fellow will some day oust salisbury as dizzy ousted old derby, and sell his party to parnell or anybody else who makes a good bid. we are flourishing on the whole. sulphide of wife joins with me in love. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [on the st he writes:--] the formation of huxley sulphide will be brought to a sudden termination to-morrow when we return to london. the process has certainly done my wife a great deal of good and i wish it could have gone on a week or two longer, but our old arrangements are upset and we must start with the chicks for switzerland on the th, that is next tuesday. chapter . . . [the earlier start was decided upon for the sake of one of his daughters; who had been ill. he went first to evolena, but the place did not suit him, and four days after his arrival went on to arolla, whence he writes on august :--] we reached evolena on thursday last...we had glorious weather thursday and friday, and the latter day (having both been told carefully to avoid over-exertion) the wife and i strolled, quite unintentionally, as far as the glacier de ferpecle and back again. luckily the wife is none the worse, and indeed, i think in which more tired of the two. but we saw at once that evolena was a mistake for our purpose, and were confirmed in that opinion by the deluge of rain on saturday. the hotel is down in a hole at the tail of a dirty swiss village, and only redeemed by very good cooking. so, sunday being fine, i, e. and h. started up here to prospect, miles up and down, and feet to climb, and did it beautifully. it is just the place for us, at the tail of a glacier in the midst of a splendid amphitheatre of to , feet snow heights, and yet not bare and waste, any quantity of stone-pines growing about...i rather long for the flesh-pots of evolena--cooking here being decidedly rudimentary--otherwise we are very well off. [the keen air of six thousand feet above sea level worked wonders with the invalids. the lassitude of the last two years was swept away, and huxley came home eager for active life. here too it was that, for occupation, he took up the study of gentians; the beginning of that love of his garden which was so great a delight to him in his last years. on his return home he writes:--] marlborough place, september , . my dear foster, we got back last evening after a very successful trip. arolla suited us all to a t, and we are all in great force. as for me, i have not known of the existence of my liver, and except for the fact that i found fifteen or sixteen miles with a couple of thousand feet up and down quite enough, i could have deluded myself into the fond imagination that i was twenty years younger. by way of amusement i bought a swiss flora in lausanne and took to botanising--and my devotion to the gentians led the bishop of chichester--a dear old man, who paid us (that is the hotel) a visit--to declare that i sought the "ur-gentian" as a kind of holy grail. the only interruption to our felicity was the death of a poor fellow, who was brought down on a guide's back from an expedition he ought not to have undertaken, and whom i did my best to keep alive one night. but rapid pleuritic effusion finished him the next morning, in spite of (i hope not in consequence of) such medical treatment as i could give him. i see you had a great meeting at birmingham, but i know not details. the delegation to sydney is not a bad idea, but why on earth have they arranged that it shall arrive in the middle of the hot weather? speechifying with the thermometer at degrees in the shade will try the nerves of the delegates, i can tell them. i shall remain quietly here and see whether i can stand london. i hope i may, for the oestrus of work is upon me--for the first time this couple of years. let me have some news of you. with our love to your wife and you. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., september , . my dear donnelly, i hear that some of your alguazils were looking after me yesterday, so i had better give myself up at once--hoping it will be considered in the sentence. the fact is i have been going to write to you ever since we came back last thursday evening, but i had about fifty other letters to write and got sick of the operation. we are all in great force, and as for me, i never expected a year ago to be he well i am. i require to look in the glass and study the crows' feet and the increasing snow cap on the summit of my tete noire (as it once was), to convince myself i am not twenty years younger. how long it will last i don't feel sure, but i am going to give london as little chance as possible. i trust you have all been thriving to a like extent. scott [assistant professor of botany at the royal college of science.] wrote to me the other day wanting to take his advanced flock (two--one, i believe, a ewe-lamb) to kew. i told him i had no objection, but he had better consult you. i have not been to south kensington yet--as i have a devil (botanical--) and must satisfy him before doing anything else. it's the greatest sign of amendment that i have gone in for science afresh. when i am ill (and consequently venomous), nothing satisfies me but gnawing at theology; it's a sort of crib-biting. our love to mrs. donnelly. i suppose g.h. [gordon huxley donnelly, sir john's son.] is by this time a kind of daniel lambert physically and solomon mentally--my blessing to him. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [as a sequel to the sad event mentioned in the former letter, the relations of the young man who had died so suddenly at arolla wished to offer huxley some gift in grateful recognition of the kindness he had shown to the poor fellow; but being unable to fix upon any suitable object, begged him to accept a considerable sum of money and expend it on any object he pleased as a memento. to this he replied, november , :--] i am very much obliged for the kind recognition of my unfortunately unavailing efforts to be of service to your brother-in-law which is contained in your letter. but i and those who right willingly helped me did nothing more than our plain duty in such a case; and though i fully appreciate the motives which actuate mrs. -- and yourself and friends, and would gladly accept any trifle as a memento of my poor friend (i call him so, for we really struck up a great friendship in our twelve hours' acquaintance), i could not with any comfort use the very handsome cheque you offer. let me propose a compromise. as you will see by the enclosed paper, a colleague of mine has just died leaving widow and children in very poor circumstances. contribute something to the fund which is being raised for their benefit, and i shall consider it as the most agreeable present you could possibly make to me. and if you wish me to have a personal memento of our friend, send me a pipe that belonged to him. i am greatly devoted to tobacco, and will put it in a place of honour in my battery of pipes. [the bracing effects of arolla enabled him to stay two months in town before again retiring to ilkley to be] "screwed up." [he had on the stocks his gentian paper and the chapter for the darwin life, besides the chapter on the progress of science for the "reign of queen victoria," all of which he finished off this autumn; he was busy with technical education, and the egyptian borings which were being carried out under the superintendence of the royal society. finally he was induced by a "diabolical plot" on the part of mr. spencer to read, and in consequence to answer, an article in the "fortnightly" for november by mr. lilly on "materialism and morality." these are the chief points with which the following correspondence is concerned.] marlborough place, september , . my dear foster, i enclose the report [the annual report of the examiners in physiology under the science and art department, which, being still an examiner he had to sign.] and have nothing to suggest except a quibble at page . if you take a stick in your hand you may feel lots of things and determine their form, etc., with the other end of it, but surely the stick is properly said to be insensible. ditto with the teeth. i feel very well with mine (which are paid for) but they are surely not sensible? old tomes once published the opinion that the contents of the dentine tubules were sensory nerves, on the ground of our feeling so distinctly through our teeth. he forgot the blind man's stick. indeed the reference of sensation to the end of a stick is one of the most interesting of psychological facts. it is extraordinary how those dogs of examinees return to their vomit. almost all the obstinate fictions you mention are of a quarter of a century date. only then they were dominant and epidemic--now they are sporadic. i wish pasteur or somebody would find some microbe with which the rising generation could be protected against them. we shall have to rearrange the examination business--this partner having made his fortune and retiring from firm. think over what is to be done. ever yours, t.h. huxley. you don't happen to grow gentians in your alpine region, do you? [of his formal responsibility for the examinations he had written earlier in the year:--] wells house, ilkley, june , . my dear donnelly, i think it is just as well that you could not lay your hands on ink, for if you had you would only have blacked them. (n.b. this is a goak.) you know we resolved that it was as well that i should go on as examiner (unpaid) this year. but i rather repent me of it--for although i could be of use over the questions, i have had nothing to do with checking the results of the examination except in honours, and i suspect that foster's young cambridge allies tend always to screw the standard up. i am inclined to think that i had much better be out of it next year. the attempt to look over examination papers now would reduce the little brains i have left to mere pulp--and, on the other hand, if there is any row about results, it is not desirable that i should have to say that i have not seen the answers. when i go you will probably get seven devils worse than the first--but that it is not the fault of the first devil. i am picking up here wonderfully in spite of the bad weather. it rained hard yesterday and blew ditto--to-day it is blowing dittoes--but there is sunshine between the rain and squalls. i hope you are better off. what an outlandish name "tetronila." i don't believe you have spelt it right. with best regards to mrs. donnelly and my godson. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, september , . my dear hooker, i have sucked grisebach's brains, looked up "flora b. americana," and "f. antarctica and new zealand," and picked about in other quarters. i found i knew as much as grisebach had to tell me (and more) about lutea, purpureo-punctata, acaulis, campestris, and the verna lot, which are all i got hold of at arolla. but he is very good in all but classification, which is logically "without form and void, and darkness on the face of it." i shall have to verify lots of statements about gentians i have not seen, but at present the general results are very curious and interesting. the species fall into four groups, one primary least differentiated--three, specialised. . lobes of corolla fringed. . coronate. . interlobate (i.e. not the "plica" between the proper petals). now the interesting point is that the antarctic species are all primary and so are the great majority of the andean forms. lutea is the only old-world primary, unless the himalayan moorcroftiana belongs here. the arctic forms are also primary, but the petals more extensively united. the specialised types are all arctogeal with the exception of half a dozen or so andean species including prostrata. there is a strange general parallelism with the crayfishes! which also have their primary forms in australia and new zealand, avoid e. s. america and africa, and become most differentiated in arctogaea. but there are also differences in detail. it strikes me that this is uncommonly interesting; but, of course, all the information about the structure of the flowers, etc., i get at second hand, wants verifying. have you done the gentians of your "flora indica" yet? do look at them from this point of view. i cannot make out what grisebach means by his division of chondrophylla. what is a "cartilaginous" margin to a leaf?--"folia margine cartilaginea!" he has a lot of indian species under this head. i send you a rough scheme i have drawn up. please let me have it back. any annotations thankfully received. shan't apologise for bothering you. i hope the pension is settled at last. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, september , . my dear hooker, i have written to lubbock a long screed stating my views [referring to the relations between the south kensington department and the city and guilds committee on technical education.] with unmistakable distinctness as politeful as may be, and asking him, if he thought well, to send them on to whomsoever it may concern. as old gutzlaff used to say when he wanted to get evidence from a chinee--"gif him four dozen, someting vill transpire." at any rate the chinee transpired, and i hope some official will. here beginneth more gentian craze. i have not examined moorcroft. yet, but if the figure in roxb. is trustworthy it's a primary and no mistake. i can't understand your admitting amarellae without coronae. the presence of a corona is part of the definition of the amarella group, and an amarella without a corona is a primary ipso facto. taking the facts as i have got them in the rough, and subject to minor verifications, the contrast between the andean, himalayan, and caucasian gentian florae is very striking. table of gentian florae. column : place. column : simplices. column : ciliatae. column : coronatae. column : interlobatae. andes : : (?) : : . himalayas (moorecroft.) : : : . caucasus pyrenees (all one) : (lutea, umbellata) : : : . i don't think ciliatae worth anything as a division. i took it as it stood. it is clear that migration helps nothing, as between the old-world and south american florae. it is the case of the tapirs (andean and sino-malayan) over again. relics of a tertiary flora which once extended from south america to eurasia through north america (by the west, probably). i see a book by engler on the development of floras since tertiary epoch. probably the beggar has the idea. ever yours, t.h. huxley. godalming, september , . my dear foster, we are here till to-morrow on a visit to leonard, seeing how the young folks keep house. i brought the egyptian report down with me. it is very important, and in itself justifies the expenditure. any day next (that is to say this) week that you like i can see colonel turner. if you and evans can arrange a day i don't think we need mind the rest of the committee. we must get at least two other borings ten or fifteen miles off, if possible on the same parallel, by hook or by crook. it will tell us more about the nile valley than has ever been known. that italian fellow who published sections must have lied considerably. touching gentians, i have not examined your specimen yet, but it certainly did not look like andrewsii. you talk of having acaulis in your garden. that is one of the species i worked out most carefully at arolla, but its flowering time was almost over, and i only got two full-blown specimens to work at. if you have any in flower and don't mind sacrificing one with a bit of the rhizoma, and would put it in spirit for me, i could settle one or two points still wanting. whisky will do, and you will be all the better for not drinking the whisky! the distributional facts, when you work them in connection with morphology, are lovely. we put up with donnelly on our way here. he has taken a cottage at felday, eleven miles from hence, in lovely country--on lease. i shall have to set up a country residence some day, but as all my friends declare their own locality best, i find a decision hard. and it is a bore to be tied to one place. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, october , . my dear hooker, i wish you would not mind the trouble of looking through the enclosed chapter which i have written at f. darwin's request, and tell me what you think of it. f.d. thinks i am hard upon the "quarterly article," but i read it a fresh and it is absolutely scandalous. the anonymous vilifiers of the present day will be none the worse for being reminded that they may yet hang in chains... it occurs to me that it might be well to add a paragraph or two about the two chief objections made formerly and now to darwin, the one, that it is introducing "chance" as a factor in nature, and the other that it is atheistic. both assertions are utter bosh. none but parsons believe in "chance"; and the philosophical difficulties of theism now are neither greater nor less than they have been ever since theism was invented. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the following letter to mr. edmund gosse, who, just before, had been roughly handled in the "quarterly review," doubtless owed some of its vigour to these newly revived memories of the "quarterly" attack on darwin. but while the interest of the letter lies in a general question of literary ethics, the proper methods and limits of anonymous criticism, it must be noted that in this particular case its edge was turned by the fact that immediately afterwards, the critic proceeded to support his criticisms elsewhere uder his own name:--] october , . dear sir, i beg leave to offer you my best thanks for your letter to the "athenaeum," which i have just read, and to congratulate you on the force and completeness of your answer to your assailant. it is rarely worth while to notice criticism, but when a good chance of exposing one of these anonymous libellers who disgrace literature occurs, it is a public duty to avail oneself of it. oddly enough, i have recently been performing a similar "haute oeuvre." the most violent, base, and ignorant of all the attacks on darwin at the time of the publication of the "origin of species" appeared in the "quarterly review" of that time; and i have built the reviewer a gibbet as high as haman's. all good men and true should combine to stop this system of literary moonlighting. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on the same date appeared his letter to the "pall mall gazette," which was occasioned by the perversion of the new chair of english literature at oxford to "middle english" philology:--] i fully agree with you that the relation of our universities to the study of english literature is a matter of great public importance; and i have more than once taken occasion to express my conviction--firstly, that the works of our great english writers are pre-eminently worthy of being systematically studied in our schools and universities as literature; and secondly, that the establishment of professional chairs of philology, under the name of literature, may be a profit to science, but is really a fraud practised upon letters. that a young englishman may be turned out of one of our universities, "epopt and perfect," so far as their system takes him, and yet ignorant of the noble literature which has grown up in those islands during the last three centuries, no less than of the development of the philosophical and political ideas which have most profoundly influenced modern civilisation, is a fact in the history of the nineteenth century which the twentieth will find hard to believe; though, perhaps, it is not more incredible than our current superstition that whoso wishes to write and speak english well should mould his style after the models furnished by classical antiquity. for my part, i venture to doubt the wisdom of attempting to mould one's style by any other process for that of striving after the clear and forcible expression of definite conceptions; in which process the glassian precept, "first catch your definite conceptions," is probably the most difficult to obey. but still i mark among distinguished contemporary speakers and writers of english, saturated with antiquity, not a few to whom, it seems to me, the study of hobbes might have taught dignity; of swift, concision and clearness; of goldsmith and defoe, simplicity. well, among a hundred young men whose university career is finished, is there one whose attention has ever been directed by his literary instructors to a page of hobbes, or swift, or goldsmith, or defoe? in my boyhood we were familiar with "robinson crusoe," "the vicar of wakefield," and "gulliver's travels"; and though the mysteries of "middle english" were hidden from us, my impression is we ran less chance of learning to write and speak the "middling english" of popular orators and headmasters than if we had been perfect in such mysteries and ignorant of those three masterpieces. it has been the fashion to decry the eighteenth century, as young fops laugh at their fathers. but we were there in germ; and a "professor of eighteenth century history and literature" we knew his business might tell young englishmen more of that which it is profoundly important they should know, but which at present remains hidden from them, than any other instructor; and, incidentally, they would learn to know good english when they see or hear it--perhaps even to discriminate between slipshod copiousness and true eloquence, and that alone would be a great gain. [as for the incitement to answer mr. lilly, mr. spencer writes from brighton on november :-- i have no doubt your combative instincts have been stirred within you as you read mr. lilly's article, "materialism and morality," in which you and i are dealt with after the ordinary fashion popular with the theologians, who practically say, "you shall be materialists whether you like it or not." i should not be sorry if you yielded to those promptings of your combative instinct. now that you are a man of leisure there is no reason why you should not undertake any amount of fighting, providing always that you can find foemen worthy of your steel. i remember that last year you found intellectual warfare good for your health, so i have no qualms of conscience in making the suggestion. to this he replies on the th:--] your stimulation of my combative instincts is downright wicked. i will not look at the "fortnightly" article lest i succumb to temptation. at least not yet. the truth is that these cursed irons of mine, that have always given me so much trouble, will put themselves in the fire, when i am not thinking about them. there are three or four already. [on november mr. spencer sends him more proofs of his autobiography, dealing with his early life:-- see what it is to be known as an omnivorous reader--you get no mercy shown you. a man who is ready for anything, from the fairy tale to a volume of metaphysics, is naturally one who will make nothing of a fragment of a friend's autobiography! to this he replies on the th:--] marlborough place, november , . my dear spencer, in spite of all prohibition i must write to you about two things. first, as to the proof returned herewith--i really have no criticisms to make (miracles, after all may not be incredible). i have read your account of your boyhood with great interest, and i find nothing there which does not contribute to the understanding of the man. no doubt about the truth of evolution in your own case. another point which has interested me immensely is the curious similarity to many recollections of my own boyish nature which i find, especially in the matter of demanding a reason for things and having no respect for authority. but i was more docile, and could remember anything i had a mind to learn, whether it was rational or irrational, only in the latter case i hadn't the mind. but you were infinitely better off than i in the matter of education. i had two years of a pandemonium of a school (between and ) and after that neither help nor sympathy in any intellectual direction till i reached manhood. good heavens! if i had had a father and uncle who troubled themselves about my education as yours did about your training, i might say as bethell said of his possibilities had he come under jowett, "there is no knowing to what eminence i might not have attained." your account of them gives me the impression that they were remarkable persons. men of that force of character, if they had been less wise and self-restrained, would have played the deuce with the abnormal chicken hatched among them. the second matter is that your diabolical plot against lilly has succeeded--vide the next number of the fortnightly. ["science and morals" "collected essays" .] i was fool enough to read his article, and the rest followed. but i do not think i should have troubled myself if the opportunity had not been good for clearing off a lot of old scores. the bad weather for the last ten days has shown me that i want screwing up, and i am off to ilkley on saturday for a week or two. ilkley wells house will be my address. i should like to know that you are picking up again. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [and again on december :--] my dear spencer, i am very glad to have news of you which on the whole is not unsatisfactory. your conclusion as to the doctors is one i don't mind telling you in confidence i arrived at some time ago... i am glad you liked my treatment of mr. lilly...i quite agree with you that the thing was worth doing for the sake of the public. i have in hand another bottle of the same vintage about modern realism and the abuse of the word law, suggested by a report i read the other day of one of liddon's sermons. ["pseudo-scientific realism" "collected essays" .] the nonsense these great divines talk when they venture to meddle with science is really appalling. don't be alarmed about the history of victorian science. [see above.] i am happily limited to the length of a review article or thereabouts, and it is (i am happy to say it is nearly done) more of an essay on the history of science, bringing out the broad features of the contrast between past and present, than the history itself. it seemed to me that this was the only way of dealing with such a subject in a book intended for the general public. [the article "science and morals" was not only a satisfaction to himself, but a success with the readers of the "fortnightly." to his wife he writes:--] december . have you had the "fortnightly"? how does my painting of the lilly look? december . harris...says that my article "simply made the december number," which pretty piece of gratitude means a lively sense of favours to come. december . i had a letter from spencer yesterday chuckling over the success of his setting me on lilly. [ilkley had a wonderful effect upon him.] "it is quite absurd," [he writes after hours there,] "but i am wonderfully better already." [his regimen was of the simplest, save perhaps on one point.] "clark told me," [he says with the utmost gravity,] "always to drink tea and eat hot cake at . . i have persevered, however against my will, and last night had no dreams, but slept like a top." [two hours' writing in the morning were followed by two hours' sharp walking; in the afternoon he first took two hours' walking or strolling if the weather were decent;] "then clark's prescription diligently taken" [(i.e. tea and a pipe) and a couple of hours more writing; after dinner reading and to bed before eleven.] i am working away (he writes) in a leisurely comfortable manner at my chapter for ward's jubilee book, and have got the first few pages done, which is always my greatest trouble. december . ...canon milman wrote to me to come to the opening of the new buildings for sion college, which the prince is going to preside over on the th. i had half a mind to accept, if only for the drollery of finding myself among a solemn convocation of the city clergy. however, i thought it would be opening the floodgates, and i prudently declined. [one more letter may perhaps be quoted as illustrating the clearness of vision in administrative matters which made it impossible for him to sit quietly by and see a tactical blunder being committed, even though his formal position might not seem to warrant his interference. this is his apologia for such a step.] december , . my dear foster, on thinking over this morning's committee work [some committee of the royal society.], it strikes my conscience that being neither president or chairman nor officer i took command of the boat in a way that was hardly justifiable. but it occurred to me that our sagacious -- for once was going astray and playing into --'s hands, without clearly seeing what he was doing, and i be thought me of "salus societatis suprema lex," and made up my mind to stop the muddle we were getting into at all costs. i hope he was not disgusted nor you either. x. ought to have cut in, but he did not seem inclined to do so. i am clearly convinced it was the right thing to do--anyhow. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the chronicle of the year may fitly close with a letter from ilkley to dr. dohrn, apropos of his recommendation of a candidate for a biological professorship. the] "honest sixpence got by hard labour," [refers to a tour in the highlands which he had once taken with dr. dohrn, when, on a rough day, they were being rowed across loch leven to mary stuart's castle. the boatman, unable to make head single-handed against the wind, asked them each to take an oar; but when they landed and huxley tendered the fare, the honest fellow gave him back two sixpences, saying, "i canna tak' it: you have wrocht as hard as i." each took a coin; and huxley remarked that this was the first sixpence he had earned by manual labour. dr. dohrn, i believe, still carries his sixpence in memory of the occasion.] wells house, ilkley, yorkshire, december , . my dear dohrn, you see by my address that i am en retraite, for a time. as good catholics withdraw from the world now and then for the sake of their souls--so i, for the sake of my body (and chiefly of my liver) have retired for a fortnight or so to the yorkshire moors--the nearest place to london where i can find dry air feet above the sea, and the sort of uphill exercise which routs out all the unoxygenated crannies of my organism. hard frost has set in, and i had a walk over the moorland which would have made all the blood of the ost-see pirates--which i doubt not you have inherited--alive, and cleared off the fumes of that detestable capua to which you are condemned. i should like to have seen the nose of one of your neapolitan nobilissimes after half-an-hour's exposure to the north wind, clear and sharp as a razor, which very likely looked down on loch leven a few hours ago. ah well! "fuimus"--i am amused at the difficulty you find in taking up the position of a "grave and reverend senior"; because i can by no means accustom myself to the like dignity. in spite of my grey hairs "age hath not cooled the douglas blood" altogether, and i have a gratifying sense that (liver permitting) i am still capable of much folly. all this, however, has not much to do with poor dr. -- to whom, i am sorry to say, your letter could do no good, as it arrived after my colleagues and i had settled the business. but there were a number of strong candidates who had not much chance. if it is open to me to serve him hereafter, however, your letter will be of use to him, for i know you do not recommend men lightly. after some eighteen months of misery--the first thing that did me any good was coming here. but i was completely set up by six or seven weeks at arolla in the valais. the hotel was feet up, and the wife and daughters and i spent most of our time in scrambling about the feet between that and the snow. six months ago i had made up my mind to be an invalid, but at arolla i walked as well as i did when you and i made pilgrimages--and earned the only honest sixpence (i, at any rate) ever got for hard labour. three months in london brought me down again, so i came here to be "mended." you know english literature so well that perhaps you have read wordsworth's "white doe of rylstone." i am in that country, within walk of bolton abbey. please remember me very kindly to the signora--and thank her for copying the letter in such a charmingly legible hand. i wish mine were like it. if i am alive we shall go to arolla next summer. could we not meet there? it is a fair half-way. ever yours, t.h. huxley. life and letters of thomas henry huxley by his son leonard huxley. in three volumes. volume . preface to the american edition. the american edition of the "life and letters of thomas henry huxley" calls for a few words by way of preface, for there existed a particular relationship between the english writer and his transatlantic readers. from the time that his "lay sermons" was published his essays found in the united states an eager audience, who appreciated above all things his directness and honesty of purpose and the unflinching spirit in which he pursued the truth. whether or not, as some affirm, the american public "discovered" mr. herbert spencer, they responded at once to the influence of the younger evolutionary writer, whose wide and exact knowledge of nature was but a stepping-stone to his interest in human life and its problems. and when, a few years later, after more than one invitation, he came to lecture in the united states and made himself personally known to his many readers, it was this widespread response to his influence which made his welcome comparable, as was said at the time, to a royal progress. his own interest in the present problems of the country and the possibilities of its future was always keen, not merely as touching the development of a vast political force--one of the dominant factors of the near future--but far more as touching the character of its approaching greatness. huge territories and vast resources were of small interest to him in comparison with the use to which they should be put. none felt more vividly than he that the true greatness of a nation would depend upon the spirit of the principles it adopted, upon the character of the individuals who make up the nation and shape the channels in which the currents of its being will hereafter flow. this was the note he struck in the appeal for intellectual sincerity and clearness which he made at the end of his new york "lectures on evolution." the same note dominates that letter to his sister--a southerner by adoption--which gives his reading of the real issue at stake in the great civil war. slavery is bad for the slave, but far worse for the master, as sapping his character and making impossible that moral vigour of the individual on which is based the collective vigour of the nation. the interest with which he followed the later development of social problems need not be dwelt on here, except to say that he watched their earlier maturity in america as an indication of the problems which would afterwards call for a solution in his own country. his share in treating them was limited to examining the principles of social philosophy on which some of the proposed remedies for social troubles were based, and this examination may be found in his "collected essays." but the educational campaign which he carried on in england had its counterpart in america. it was not only that he was chosen to open the johns hopkins university as the type of a new form of education; there and elsewhere pupils of his carried out in america his methods of teaching biology, while others engaged in general education would write testifying to the influence of his ideas upon their own methods of teaching. but it must be remembered that nothing was further from his mind than the desire to found a school of thought. he only endeavoured as a scholar and a student to clear up his own thoughts and help others to clear theirs, whether in the intellectual or the moral world. this was the help he steadfastly hoped to give the people, that interacting union of intellectual freedom and moral discernment which may be furthered by good education and training, by precept and example, that basis of all social health and prosperity. and if, as he said, he would like to be remembered as one who had done his best to help the people, he meant assuredly not the people only of his native land, but the wider world to whom his words could be carried. preface to the english edition. my father's life was one of so many interests, and his work was at all times so diversified, that to follow each thread separately, as if he had been engaged on that alone for a time, would be to give a false impression of his activity and the peculiar character of his labours. all through his active career he was equally busy with research into nature, with studies in philosophy, with teaching and administrative work. the real measure of his energy can only be found when all these are considered together. without this there can be no conception of the limitations imposed upon him in his chosen life's work. the mere amount of his research is greatly magnified by the smallness of the time allowed for it. but great as was the impression left by these researches in purely scientific circles, it is not by them alone that he made his impression upon the mass of his contemporaries. they were chiefly moved by something over and above his wide knowledge in so many fields--by his passionate sincerity, his interest not only in pure knowledge, but in human life, by his belief that the interpretation of the book of nature was not to be kept apart from the ultimate problems of existence; by the love of truth, in short, both theoretical and practical, which gave the key to the character of the man himself. accordingly, i have not discussed with any fulness the value of his technical contributions to natural science; i have not drawn up a compendium of his philosophical views. one is a work for specialists; the other can be gathered from his published works. i have endeavoured rather to give the public a picture, so far as i can, of the man himself, of his aims in the many struggles in which he was engaged, of his character and temperament, and the circumstances under which his various works were begun and completed. so far as possible, i have made his letters, or extracts from them, tell the story of his life. if those of any given period are diverse in tone and character, it is simply because they reflect an equal diversity of occupations and interests. few of the letters, however, are of any great length; many are little more than hurried notes; others, mainly of private interest, supply a sentence here and there to fill in the general outline. moreover, whenever circumstances permit, i have endeavoured to make my own part in the book entirely impersonal. my experience is that the constant iteration by the biographer of his relationship to the subject of his memoir, can become exasperating to the reader; so that at the risk of offending in the opposite direction, i have chosen the other course. lastly, i have to express my grateful thanks to all who have sent me letters or supplied information, and especially to dr. j.h. gladstone, sir mountstuart grant duff, professor howes, professor henry sidgwick, and sir spencer walpole, for their contributions to the book; but above all to sir joseph hooker and sir michael foster, whose invaluable help in reading proofs and making suggestions has been, as it were, a final labour of love for the memory of their old friend. contents. preface to the american edition. preface to the english edition. chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . ... list of illustrations. plate . portrait of t.h. huxley from a daguerrotype made in . plate . facsimile of sketch, "the loves and graces." plate . portrait from a photograph by maull and polyblank, . plate . number marlborough place--from the garden. after a watercolour sketch by r. huxley. plate . portrait from a photograph by elliott and fry; steel engraving in "nature," february , . chapter . . - . [in the year ealing was as quiet a country village as could be found within a dozen miles of hyde park corner. here stood a large semi-public school, which had risen to the front rank in numbers and reputation under dr. nicholas, of wadham college, oxford, who in became the son-in-law and successor of the previous master. the senior assistant-master in this school was george huxley, a tall, dark, rather full-faced man, quick tempered, and distinguished, in his son's words, by "that glorious firmness which one's enemies called obstinacy." in the year he had married rachel withers; she bore five sons and three daughters, of whom one son and one daughter died in infancy; the seventh and youngest surviving child was thomas henry. george huxley, the master at ealing, was the second son of thomas huxley and margaret james, who were married at st. michael's, coventry, on september , . this thomas huxley continued to live at coventry until his death in january , when he left behind him a large family and no very great wealth. the most notable item in the latter is the "capital messuage, by me lately purchased of mrs. ann thomas," which he directs to be sold to pay his debts--an inn, apparently, for the testator is described as a victualler. family tradition tells that he came to coventry from lichfield, and if so, he and his sons after him exemplify the tendency to move south, which is to be observed in those of the same name who migrated from their original home in cheshire. this home is represented to-day by a farm in the wirral, about eight miles from chester, called huxley hall. from this centre huxleys spread to the neighbouring villages, such as overton and eccleston, clotton and duddon, tattenhall and wettenhall; others to chester and brindley near nantwich. the southward movement carries some to the welsh border, others into shropshire. the wettenhall family established themselves in the fourth generation at rushall, and held property in handsworth and walsall; the brindley family sent a branch to macclesfield, whose representative, samuel, must have been on the town council when the young pretender rode through on his way to derby, for he was mayor in ; while at the end of the sixteenth century, george, the disinherited heir of brindley, became a merchant in london, and purchased wyre hall at edmonton, where his descendants lived for four generations, his grandson being knighted by charles ii in . but my father had no particular interest in tracing his early ancestry. "my own genealogical inquiries," he said, "have taken me so far back that i confess the later stages do not interest me." towards the end of his life, however, my mother persuaded him to see what could be found out about huxley hall and the origin of the name. this proved to be from the manor of huxley or hodesleia, whereof one swanus de hockenhull was enfeoffed by the abbot and convent of st. werburgh in the time of richard i. of the grandsons of this swanus, the eldest kept the manor and name of hockenhull (which is still extant in the midlands); the younger ones took their name from the other fief. but the historian of cheshire records the fact that owing to the respectability of the name, it was unlawfully assumed by divers "losels and lewd fellows of the baser sort," and my father, with a fine show of earnestness, used to declare that he was certain the legitimate owners of the name were far too sober and respectable to have produced such a reprobate as himself, and one of these "losels" must be his progenitor. thomas henry huxley was born at ealing on may , , "about eight o'clock in the morning." (so in the autobiography, but . according to the family bible.) "i am not aware," he tells us playfully in his autobiography, "that any portents preceded my arrival in this world, but, in my childhood, i remember hearing a traditional account of the manner in which i lost the chance of an endowment of great practical value. the windows of my mother's room were open, in consequence of the unusual warmth of the weather. for the same reason, probably, a neighbouring beehive had swarmed, and the new colony, pitching on the window-sill, was making its way into the room when the horrified nurse shut down the sash. if that well-meaning woman had only abstained from her ill-timed interference, the swarm might have settled on my lips, and i should have been endowed with that mellifluous eloquence which, in this country, leads far more surely than worth, capacity, or honest work, to the highest places in church and state. but the opportunity was lost, and i have been obliged to content myself through life with saying what i mean in the plainest of plain language, than which, i suppose, there is no habit more ruinous to a man's prospects of advancement." as to his debt, physical and mental, to either parent, he writes as follows:--] physically i am the son of my mother so completely--even down to peculiar movements of the hands, which made their appearance in me as i reached the age she had when i noticed them--that i can hardly find any trace of my father in myself, except an inborn faculty for drawing, which, unfortunately, in my case, has never been cultivated, a hot temper, and that amount of tenacity of purpose which unfriendly observers sometimes call obstinacy. my mother was a slender brunette, of an emotional and energetic temperament, and possessed of the most piercing black eyes i ever saw in a woman's head. with no more education than other women of the middle classes of her day, she had an excellent mental capacity. her most distinguishing characteristic, however, was rapidity of thought. if one ventured to suggest that she had not taken much time to arrive at any conclusion, she would say, "i cannot help it; things flash across me." that peculiarity has been passed on to me in full strength; it has often stood me in good stead; it has sometimes played me sad tricks, and it has always been a danger. but, after all, if my time were to come over again, there is nothing i would less willingly part with than my inheritance of mother-wit. [restless, talkative, untiring to the day of her death, she was at sixty-six "as active and energetic as a young woman." his early devotion to her was remarkable. describing her to his future wife he writes:--] as a child my love for her was a passion. i have lain awake for hours crying because i had a morbid fear of her death; her approbation was my greatest reward, her displeasure my greatest punishment. i have next to nothing to say about my childhood (he continues in the autobiography). in later years my mother, looking at me almost reproachfully, would sometimes say, "ah! you were such a pretty boy!" whence i had no difficulty in concluding that i had not fulfilled my early promise in the matter of looks. in fact, i have a distinct recollection of certain curls of which i was vain, and of a conviction that i closely resembled that handsome, courtly gentleman, sir herbert oakley, who was vicar of our parish, and who was as a god to us country folk, because he was occasionally visited by the then prince george of cambridge. i remember turning my pinafore wrong side forwards in order to represent a surplice, and preaching to my mother's maids in the kitchen as nearly as possible in sir herbert's manner one sunday morning when the rest of the family were at church. that is the earliest indication of the strong clerical affinities which my friend mr. herbert spencer has always ascribed to me, though i fancy they have for the most part remained in a latent state. [there remains no record of his having been a very precocious child. indeed, it is usually the eldest child whose necessary companionship with his elders wins him this reputation. the youngest remains a child among children longer than any other of his brothers and sisters. one talent, however, displayed itself early. the faculty of drawing he inherited from his father. but on the queer principle that training is either unnecessary to natural capacity or even ruins it, he never received regular instruction in drawing; and his draughtsmanship, vigorous as it was, and a genuine medium of artistic expression as well as an admirable instrument in his own especial work, never reached the technical perfection of which it was naturally capable. the amount of instruction, indeed of any kind, which he received was scanty in the extreme. for a couple of years, from the age of eight to ten, he was given a taste of the unreformed public school life, where, apart from the rough and ready mode of instruction in vogue and the necessary obedience enforced to certain rules, no means were taken to reach the boys themselves, to guide them and help them in their school life. the new-comer was left to struggle for himself in a community composed of human beings at their most heartlessly cruel age, untempered by any external influence. here he had little enough of mental discipline, or that deliberate training of character which is a leading object of modern education. on the contrary, what he learnt was a knowledge of undisciplined human nature.] my regular school training [he tells us], was of the briefest, perhaps fortunately; for though my way of life has made me acquainted with all sorts and conditions of men, from the highest to the lowest, i deliberately affirm that the society i fell into at school was the worst i have ever known. we boys were average lads, with much the same inherent capacity for good and evil as any others; but the people who were set over us cared about as much for our intellectual and moral welfare as if they were baby-farmers. we were left to the operation of the struggle for existence among ourselves; bullying was the least of the ill practices current among us. almost the only cheerful reminiscence in connection with the place which arises in my mind is that of a battle i had with one of my classmates, who had bullied me until i could stand it no longer. i was a very slight lad, but there was a wild-cat element in me which, when roused, made up for lack of weight, and i licked my adversary effectually. however, one of my first experiences of the extremely rough-and-ready nature of justice, as exhibited by the course of things in general, arose out of the fact that i--the victor--had a black eye, while he--the vanquished--had none, so that i got into disgrace and he did not. we made it up, and thereafter i was unmolested. one of the greatest shocks i ever received in my life was to be told a dozen years afterwards by the groom who brought me my horse in a stable-yard in sydney that he was my quondam antagonist. he had a long story of family misfortune to account for his position; but at that time it was necessary to deal very cautiously with mysterious strangers in new south wales, and on inquiry i found that the unfortunate young man had not only been "sent out," but had undergone more than one colonial conviction. [his brief school career was happily cut short by the break up of the ealing establishment. on the death of dr. nicholas, his sons attempted to carry on the school; but the numbers declined rapidly, and george huxley, about , returned to his native town of coventry, where he obtained the modest post of manager of the coventry savings bank, while his daughters eked out the slender family resources by keeping school. in the meantime the boy tom, as he was usually called, got little or no regular instruction. but he had an inquiring mind, and a singularly early turn for metaphysical speculation. he read everything he could lay hands on in his father's library. not satisfied with the ordinary length of the day, he used, when a boy of twelve, to light his candle before dawn, pin a blanket round his shoulders, and sit up in bed to read hutton's "geology." he discussed all manner of questions with his parents and friends, for his quick and eager mind made it possible for him to have friendships with people considerably older than himself. among these may especially be noted his medical brother-in-law, dr. cooke of coventry, who had married his sister ellen in , and through whom he early became interested in human anatomy; and george anderson may, at that time in business at hinckley (a small weaving centre some dozen miles distant from coventry), whom his friends who knew him afterwards in the home which he made for himself on the farm at elford, near tamworth, will remember for his genial spirit and native love of letters. there was a real friendship between the two. the boy of fifteen notes down with pleasure his visits to the man of six-and-twenty, with whom he could talk freely of the books he read, and the ideas he gathered about philosophy. afterwards, however, their ways lay far apart, and i believe they did not meet again until the seventies, when mr. may sent his children to be educated in london, and his youngest son was at school with me; his younger daughter studied art at the slade school with my sisters, and both found a warm welcome in the home circle at marlborough place. one of his boyish speculations was as to what would become of things if their qualities were taken away; and lighting upon sir william hamilton's "logic," he devoured it to such good effect that when, years afterwards, he came to tackle the greater philosophers, especially the english and the german, he found he had already a clear notion of where the key of metaphysic lay. this early interest in metaphysics was another form of the intense curiosity to discover the motive principle of things, the why and how they act, that appeared in the boy's love of engineering and of anatomy. the unity of this motive and the accident which bade fair to ruin his life at the outset, and actually levied a lifelong tax upon his bodily vigour, are best told in his own words:--] as i grew older, my great desire was to be a mechanical engineer, but the fates were against this, and while very young i commenced the study of medicine under a medical brother-in-law. but, though the institute of mechanical engineers would certainly not own me, i am not sure that i have not all along been a sort of mechanical engineer in partibus infidelium. i am now occasionally horrified to think how little i ever knew or cared about medicine as the art of healing. the only part of my professional course which really and deeply interested me was physiology, which is the mechanical engineering of living machines; and, notwithstanding that natural science has been my proper business, i am afraid there is very little of the genuine naturalist in me. i never collected anything, and species work was always a burden to me; what i cared for was the architectural and engineering part of the business, the working out the wonderful unity of plan in the thousands and thousands of diverse living constructions, and the modifications of similar apparatuses to serve diverse ends. the extraordinary attraction i felt towards the study of the intricacies of living structure nearly proved fatal to me at the outset. i was a mere boy--i think between thirteen and fourteen years of age--when i was taken by some older student friends of mine to the first post-mortem examination i ever attended. all my life i have been most unfortunately sensitive to the disagreeables which attend anatomical pursuits, but on this occasion my curiosity overpowered all other feelings, and i spent two or three hours in gratifying it. i did not cut myself, and none of the ordinary symptoms of dissection-poison supervened, but poisoned i was somehow, and i remember sinking into a strange state of apathy. by way of a last chance, i was sent to the care of some good, kind people, friends of my father's, who lived in a farmhouse in the heart of warwickshire. i remember staggering from my bed to the window on the bright spring morning after my arrival, and throwing open the casement. life seemed to come back on the wings of the breeze, and to this day the faint odour of wood-smoke, like that which floated across the farmyard in the early morning, is as good to me as the "sweet south upon a bed of violets." i soon recovered, but for years i suffered from occasional paroxysms of internal pain, and from that time my constant friend, hypochondriacal dyspepsia, commenced his half-century of co-tenancy of my fleshly tabernacle. [some little time after his return from the voyage of the "rattlesnake," huxley succeeded in tracing his good warwickshire friends again. a letter of may , , from one of them, miss k. jaggard, tells how they had lost sight of the huxleys after their departure from coventry; how they were themselves dispersed by death, marriage, or retirement; and then proceeds to draw a lively sketch of the long delicate-looking lad, which clearly refers to this period or a little later.] my brother and sister who were living at grove fields when you visited there, have now retired from the cares of business, and are living very comfortably at leamington...i suppose you remember mr. joseph russell, who used to live at avon dassett. he is now married and gone to live at grove fields, so that it is still occupied by a person of the same name as when you knew it. but it is very much altered in appearance since the time when such merry and joyous parties of aunts and cousins used to assemble there. i assure you we have often talked of "tom huxley" (who was sometimes one of the party) looking so thin and ill, and pretending to make hay with one hand, while in the other he held a german book! do you remember it? and the picnic at scar bank? and how often too your patience was put to the test in looking for your german books which had been hidden by some of those playful companions who were rather less inclined for learning than yourself? [it is interesting to see from this letter and from a journal, to be quoted hereafter, that he had thus early begun to teach himself german, an undertaking more momentous in its consequences than the boy dreamed of. the knowledge of german thus early acquired was soon of the utmost service in making him acquainted with the advance of biological investigation on the continent at a time when few indeed among english men of science were able to follow it at first hand, and turn the light of the newest theories upon their own researches. it is therefore peculiarly interesting to note the cause which determined the young huxley to take up the study of so little read a language. i have more than once heard him say that this was one half of the debt he owed to carlyle, the other half being an intense hatred of shams of every sort and kind. the translations from the german, the constant references to german literature and philosophy, fired him to try the vast original from which these specimens were quarried, for the sake partly of the literature, but still more of the philosophy. the translation of "wilhelm meister," and some of the "miscellaneous essays" together, with "the french revolution," were certainly among works of carlyle with which he first made acquaintance, to be followed later by "sartor resartus," which for many years afterwards was his enchiridion, as he puts it in an unpublished autobiographical fragment. by great good fortune, a singularly interesting glimpse of my father's life from the age of fifteen onwards has been preserved in the shape of a fragmentary journal which he entitled, german fashion, "thoughts and doings." begun on september , , it is continued for a couple of years, and concludes with some vigorous annotations in , when the little booklet emerged from a three years' oblivion at the bottom of an old desk. early as this journal is, in it the boy displays three habits afterwards characteristic of the man: the habit of noting down any striking thought or saying he came across in the course of his reading; of speculating on the causes of things and discussing the right and wrong of existing institutions; and of making scientific experiments, using them to correct his theories. the first entry, the heading, as it were, and keynote of all the rest, is a quotation from novalis;--"philosophy can bake no bread; but it can prove for us god, freedom, and immortality. which, now, is more practical, philosophy or economy?" the reference here given is to a german edition of novalis, so that it seems highly probable that the boy had learnt enough of the language to translate a bit for himself, though, as appears from entries in , he had still to master the grammar completely. in science, he was much interested in electricity; he makes a galvanic battery] "in view of experiment to get crystallized carbon. got it deposited, but not crystallized." [other experiments and theorising upon them are recorded in the following year. another entry showing the courage of youth, deserves mention:--] october ( ).--began speculating on the cause of colours at sunset. has any explanation of them ever been attempted? [which is supplemented by an extract] from old book. [we may also remark the early note of radicalism and resistance to anything savouring of injustice or oppression, together with the naive honesty of the admission that his opinions may change with years.] october (at hinckley).--read dr. s. smith on the divine government.--agree with him partly.--i should say that a general belief in his doctrines would have a very injurious effect on morals. november .--...had a long talk with my mother and father about the right to make dissenters pay church rates--and whether there ought to be any establishment. i maintain that there ought not in both cases--i wonder what will be my opinion ten years hence? i think now that it is against all laws of justice to force men to support a church with whose opinions they cannot conscientiously agree. the argument that the rate is so small is very fallacious. it is as much a sacrifice of principle to do a little wrong as to do a great one. november (hinckley).--had a long argument with mr. may on the nature of the soul and the difference between it and matter. i maintained that it could not be proved that matter is essentially--as to its base--different from soul. mr. m. wittily said, soul was the perspiration of matter. we cannot find the absolute basis of matter: we only know it by its properties; neither know we the soul in any other way. cogito ergo sum is the only thing that we certainly know. why may not soul and matter be of the same substance (i.e. basis whereon to fix qualities, for we cannot suppose a quality to exist per se--it must have a something to qualify), but with different qualities. let us suppose then an eon--a something with no quality but that of existence--this eon endued with all the intelligence, mental qualities, and that in the highest degree--is god. this combination of intelligence with existence we may suppose to have existed from eternity. at the creation we may suppose that a portion of the eon was separated from the intelligence, and it was ordained--it became a natural law--that it should have the properties of gravitation, etc.--that is, that it should give to man the ideas of those properties. the eon in this state is matter in the abstract. matter, then, is eon in the simplest form in which it possesses qualities appreciable by the senses. out of this matter, by the superimposition of fresh qualities, was made all things that are. . january .--came to rotherhithe. [see chapter . .] june .--what have i done in the way of acquiring knowledge since january? projects begun:-- . german (to be learnt). . italian (to be learnt). . to read muller's "physiology." . to prepare for the matriculation examination at london university which requires knowledge of:-- a. algebra--geometry (did not begin to read for this till april. b. natural philosophy (did not begin to read for this till april. c. chemistry. d. greek--latin. e. english history down to end of seventeenth century. f. ancient history. english grammar. . to make copious notes of all things i read. projects completed:-- . partly. . not at all. and , stuck to these pretty closely. .e. read as far as henry iii in hume. a. evolution and involution. b. refraction of light--polarisation partly. c. laws of combination--must read them over again. d. nothing. f. nothing. i must get on faster than this. i must adopt a fixed plan of studies, for unless this is done i find time slips away without knowing it--and let me remember this--that it is better to read a little and thoroughly, than cram a crude undigested mass into my head, though it be great in quantity. (this is about the only resolution i have ever stuck to-- .) (well do i remember how in that little narrow surgery i used to work morning after morning and evening after evening at that insufferably dry and profitless book, hume's "history," how i worked against hope through the series of thefts, robberies, and throat-cutting in those three first volumes, and how at length i gave up the task in utter disgust and despair. macintosh's "history," on the other hand, i remember reading with great pleasure, and also guizot's "civilisation in europe," the scientific theoretical form of the latter especially pleased me, but the want of sufficient knowledge to test his conclusions was a great drawback. .) [there follow notes of work done in successive weeks--june to august , and september to october . history, german, mathematics, physics, physiology; makes an electro-magnet; reads guizot's "history of civilisation in europe," on which he remarks] an excellent work--very tough reading, though. [at the beginning of october, under "miscellaneous,"] became acquainted with constitution of french chambre des deputes and their parties. [it was his practice to note any sayings that struck him:--] truths: "i hate all people who want to found sects. it is not error but sects--it is not error but sectarian error, nay, and even sectarian truth, which causes the unhappiness of mankind."--lessing. "it is only necessary to grow old to become more indulgent. i see no fault committed that i have not committed myself..."--goethe. "one solitary philosopher may be great, virtuous, and happy in the midst of poverty, but not a whole nation..."--isaac iselin. . january , sunday evening. i have for some time been pondering over a classification of knowledge. my scheme is to divide all knowledge in the first place into two grand divisions. . objective--that for which a man is indebted to the external world; and . subjective--that which he has acquired or may acquire by inward contemplation. subjective. / metaphysics. / metaphysics proper, mathematics, logic, theology, morality. objective. / morality, history, physiology, physics. metaphysics comes immediately, of course, under the first ( ) head--that is to say, the relations of the mind to itself; of this mathematics and logic, together with theology, are branches. i am in doubt under which head to put morality, for i cannot determine exactly in my own mind whether morality can exist independent of others, whether the idea of morality could ever have arisen in the mind of an isolated being or not. i am rather inclined to the opinion that it is objective. under the head of objective knowledge comes first physics, including the whole body of the relations of inanimate unorganised bodies; secondly, physiology. including the structure and functions of animal bodies, including language and psychology; thirdly comes history. one object for which i have attempted to form an arrangement of knowledge is that i may test the amount of my own acquirements. i shall form an extensive list of subjects on this plan, and as i acquire any one of them i shall strike it out of the list. may the list soon get black! though at present i shall hardly be able, i am afraid, to spot the paper. (a prophecy! a prophecy, !). [april introduces a number of quotations from carlyle's miscellaneous writings, "characteristics," some clear and crisp, others sinking into carlyle's own vein of speculative mysticism, e.g.] "in the mind as in the body the sign of health is unconsciousness." "of our thinking it is but the upper surface that we shape into articulate thought; underneath the region of argument and conscious discourse lies the region of meditation." "genius is ever a secret to itself." "the healthy understanding, we should say, is neither the argumentative nor the logical, but the intuitive, for the end of understanding is not to prove and find reasons but to know and believe" (!) "the ages of heroism are not ages of moral philosophy. virtue, when it is philosophised of, has become aware of itself, is sickly and beginning to decline." [at the same time more electrical experiments are recorded; and theories are advanced with pros and cons to account for the facts observed. the last entry was made three years later:--] october .--i have found singular pleasure--having accidentally raked this buchlein from a corner of my desk--in looking over these scraps of notices of my past existence; an illustration of j. paul's saying that a man has but to write down his yesterday's doings, and forthwith they appear surrounded with a poetic halo. but after all, these are but the top skimmings of these five years' living. i hardly care to look back into the seething depths of the working and boiling mass that lay beneath all this froth, and indeed i hardly know whether i could give myself any clear account of it. remembrances of physical and mental pain...absence of sympathy, and thence a choking up of such few ideas as i did form clearly within my own mind. grief too, yet at the misfortune of others, for i have had few properly my own; so much the worse, for in that case i might have said or done somewhat, but here was powerless. oh, tom, trouble not thyself about sympathy; thou hast two stout legs and young, wherefore need a staff? furthermore, it is twenty minutes past two, and time to go to bed. buchlein, it will be long before my secretiveness remains so quiet again; make the most of what thou hast got. chapter . . - . [the migration to rotherhithe, noted under date of january , , was a fresh step in his career. in both his sisters married, and both married doctors. dr. cooke, the husband of the elder sister, who was settled in coventry, had begun to give him some instruction in the principles of medicine as early as the preceding june. it was now arranged that he should go as assistant to mr. chandler, of rotherhithe, a practical preliminary to walking the hospitals and obtaining a medical degree in london. his experiences among the poor in the dock region of the east of london--for dr. chandler had charge of the parish--supplied him with a grim commentary on his diligent reading in carlyle. looking back on this period, he writes:--] the last recorded speech of professor teufelsdrockh proposes the toast 'die sache der armen in gottes und teufelsnamen' (the cause of the poor in heaven's name and --'s.) the cause of the poor is the burden of "past and present," "chartism," and "latter-day pamphlets." to me...this advocacy of the cause of the poor appealed very strongly...because...i had had the opportunity of seeing for myself something of the way the poor live. not much, indeed, but still enough to give a terrible foundation of real knowledge to my speculations. [after telling how he came to know something of the east end, he proceeds:--] i saw strange things there--among the rest, people who came to me for medical aid, and who were really suffering from nothing but slow starvation. i have not forgotten--am not likely to forget so long as memory holds--a visit to a sick girl in a wretched garret where two or three other women, one a deformed woman, sister of my patient, were busy shirt-making. after due examination, even my small medical knowledge sufficed to show that my patient was merely in want of some better food than the bread and bad tea on which these people were living. i said so as gently as i could, and the sister turned upon me with a kind of choking passion. pulling out of her pocket a few pence and halfpence, and holding them out, "that is all i get for six and thirty hours' work, and you talk about giving her proper food." well, i left that to pursue my medical studies, and it so happened the shortest way between the school which i attended and the library of the college of surgeons, where my spare hours were largely spent, lay through certain courts and alleys, vinegar yard and others, which are now nothing like what they were then. nobody would have found robbing me a profitable employment in those days, and i used to walk through these wretched dens without let or hindrance. alleys nine or ten feet wide, i suppose, with tall houses full of squalid drunken men and women, and the pavement strewed with still more squalid children. the place of air was taken by a steam of filthy exhalations; and the only relief to the general dull apathy was a roar of words--filthy and brutal beyond imagination--between the closed-packed neighbours, occasionally ending in a general row. all this almost within hearing of the traffic of the strand, within easy reach of the wealth and plenty of the city. i used to wonder sometimes why these people did not sally forth in mass and get a few hours' eating and drinking and plunder to their hearts' content, before the police could stop and hang a few of them. but the poor wretches had not the heart even for that. as a slight, wiry liverpool detective once said to me when i asked him how it was he managed to deal with such hulking ruffians as we were among, "lord bless you, sir, drink and disease leave nothing in them." [this early contact with the sternest facts of the social problem impressed him profoundly. and though not actively employed in what is generally called "philanthropy," still he did his part, hopefully but soberly, not only to throw light on the true issues and to strip away make-believe from them, but also to bring knowledge to the working classes, and to institute machinery by which capacity should be caught and led to a position where it might be useful instead of dangerous to social order. after some time, however, he left mr. chandler to join his second brother-in-law (john godwin scott.), who had set up in the north of london, and to whom he was duly apprenticed, as his brother james had been before him. this change gave him more time and opportunity to pursue his medical education. he attended lectures at the sydenham college, and, as has been seen, began to prepare for the matriculation examination of the university of london. at the sydenham college he met with no little success, winning, besides certificates of merit in other departments, a prize--his first prize--for botany. his vivid recollections, given below, of this entry into the scientific arena are taken from a journal he kept for his fiancee during his absence from sydney on the cruises of the "rattlesnake."] on board h.m.s. "rattlesnake," christmas . next summer it will be six years since i made my first trial in the world. my first public competition, small as it was, was an epoch in my life. i had been attending (it was my first summer session) the botanical lectures at chelsea. one morning i observed a notice stuck up--a notice of a public competition for medals, etc., to take place on the st august (if i recollect right). it was then the end of may or thereabouts. i remember looking longingly at the notice, and some one said to me, "why don't you go in and try for it?" i laughed at the idea, for i was very young, and my knowledge somewhat of the vaguest. nevertheless i mentioned the matter to s. [his brother-in-law.] when i returned home. he likewise advised me to try, and so i determined i would. i set to work in earnest, and perseveringly applied myself to such works as i could lay my hands on, lindley's and de candolle's "systems" and the "annales des sciences naturelles" in the british museum. i tried to read schleiden, but my german was insufficient. for a young hand i worked really hard from eight or nine in the morning until twelve at night, besides a long hot summer's walk over to chelsea two or three times a week to hear lindley. a great part of the time i worked till sunrise. the result was a sort of ophthalmia which kept me from reading at night for months afterwards. the day of the examination came, and as i went along the passage to go out i well remember dear lizzie [his eldest sister, mrs. scott.], half in jest, half in earnest, throwing her shoe after me, as she said, for luck. she was alone, beside s., in the secret, and almost as anxious as i was. how i reached the examination room i hardly know, but i recollect finding myself at last with pen and ink and paper before me and five other beings, all older than myself, at a long table. we stared at one another like strange cats in a garret, but at length the examiner (ward) entered, and before each was placed the paper of questions and sundry plants. i looked at my questions, but for some moments could hardly hold my pen, so extreme was my nervousness; but when i once fairly began, my ideas crowded upon me almost faster than i could write them. and so we all sat, nothing heard but the scratching of the pens and the occasional crackle of the examiner's "times" as he quietly looked over the news of the day. the examination began at eleven. at two they brought in lunch. it was a good meal enough, but the circumstances were not particularly favourable to enjoyment, so after a short delay we resumed our work. it began to be evident between whom the contest lay, and the others determined that i was one man's competitor and stocks [john ellerton stocks, m.d., london, distinguished himself as a botanist in india. he travelled and collected in beloochistan and scinde; died .] (he is now in the east india service) the other. scratch, scratch, scratch! four o'clock came, the usual hour of closing the examination, but stocks and i had not half done, so with the consent of the others we petitioned for an extension. the examiner was willing to let us go on as long as we liked. never did i see man write like stocks; one might have taken him for an attorney's clerk writing for his dinner. we went on. i had finished a little after eight, he went on till near nine, and then we had tea and dispersed. great were the greetings i received when i got home, where my long absence had caused some anxiety. the decision would not take place for some weeks, and many were the speculations made as to the probabilities of success. i for my part managed to forget all about it, and went on my ordinary avocations without troubling myself more than i could possibly help about it. i knew too well my own deficiencies to have been either surprised or disappointed at failure, and i made a point of shattering all involuntary "castles in the air" as soon as possible. my worst anticipations were realised. one day s. came to me with a sorrowful expression of countenance. he had inquired of the beadle as to the decision, and ascertained on the latter's authority that all the successful candidates were university college men, whereby, of course, i was excluded. i said, "very well, the thing was not to be helped," put my best face upon the matter, and gave up all thoughts of it. lizzie, too, came to comfort me, and, i believe, felt it more than i did. what was my surprise on returning home one afternoon to find myself suddenly seized, and the whole female household vehemently insisting on kissing me. it appeared an official-looking letter had arrived for me, and lizzie, as i did not appear, could not restrain herself from opening it. i was second, and was to receive a medal accordingly, and dine with the guild on the th november to have it bestowed. [silver medal of the pharmaceutical society, th november . another botanical prize is a book--"la botanique," by a. richard--with the following inscription:-- thomae huxley in exercitatione botanices apud scholam collegii sydenhamiensis optime merenti hunc librum dono dedit ricardus d. hoblyn, botanices professor.] i dined with the company, and bore my share in both pudding and praise, but the charm of success lay in lizzie's warm congratulation and sympathy. since then she always took upon herself to prophesy touching the future fortunes of "the boy." [the haphazard, unsystematic nature of preliminary medical study here presented cannot fail to strike one with wonder. thomas huxley was now seventeen; he had already had two years' "practice in pharmacy" as a testimonial put it. after a similar apprenticeship, his brother had made the acquaintance of the director of the gloucester lunatic asylum, and was given by him the post of dispenser or "apothecary," which he filled so satisfactorily as to receive a promise that if he went to london for a couple of years to complete his medical training, a substitute should be appointed meanwhile to keep the place until he returned. the opportunity to which both the brothers looked came in the shape of the free scholarships offered by the charing cross hospital to students whose parents were unable to pay for their education. testimonials as to the position and general education of the candidates were required, and it is curious that one of the persons applied to by the elder huxley was j.h. newman, at that time vicar of littlemore, who had been educated at dr. nicholas' school at ealing. the application for admission to the lectures and other teaching at the hospital states of the young t.h. huxley that "he has a fair knowledge of latin, reads french with facility, and knows something of german. he has also made considerable progress in the mathematics, having, as far as he has advanced, a thorough not a superficial knowledge of the subject." the document ends in the following confident words:-- i appeal to the certificates and testimonials that will be herewith submitted for evidence of their past conduct, offering prospectively that these young men, if elected to the free scholarships of the charing cross hospital and medical college, will be diligent students, and in all things submit themselves to the controul and guidance of the director and medical officers of the establishment. a father may be pardoned, perhaps, for adding his belief that these young men will hereafter reflect credit on any institution from which they may receive their education. the authorities replied that "although it is not usual to receive two members of the same family at the same time, the officers taking into consideration the age of mr. huxley, sen., the numerous and satisfactory testimonials of his respectability, and of the good conduct and merits of the candidates, have decided upon admitting mr. j.e. and mr. t. huxley on this occasion." the brothers began their hospital course on october , . here, after a time, my father seems to have begun working more steadily and systematically than he had done before, under the influence of a really good teacher.] looking back [he says] on my "lehrjahre," i am sorry to say that i do not think that any account of my doings as a student would tend to edification. in fact, i should distinctly warn ingenuous youth to avoid imitating my example. i worked extremely hard when it pleased me, and when it did not, which was a very frequent case, i was extremely idle (unless making caricatures of one's pastors and masters is to be called a branch of industry), or else wasted my energies in wrong directions. i read everything i could lay hands upon, including novels, and took up all sorts of pursuits to drop them again quite as speedily. no doubt it was very largely my own fault, but the only instruction from which i obtained the proper effect of education was that which i received from mr. wharton jones, who was the lecturer on physiology at the charing cross school of medicine. the extent and precision of his knowledge impressed me greatly, and the severe exactness of his method of lecturing was quite to my taste. i do not know that i have ever felt so much respect for anybody as a teacher before or since. i worked hard to obtain his approbation, and he was extremely kind and helpful to the youngster who, i am afraid, took up more of his time than he had any right to do. it was he who suggested the publication of my first scientific paper--a very little one--in the "medical gazette" of , and most kindly corrected the literary faults which abounded in it, short as it was; for at that time, and for many years afterwards, i detested the trouble of writing, and would take no pains with it. [he never forgot his debt to wharton jones, and years afterwards was delighted at being able to do him a good turn, by helping to obtain a pension for him. but although in retrospect he condemns the fitfulness of his energies and his want of system, which left much to be learned afterwards, which might with advantage have been learned then, still it was his energy that struck his contemporaries. i have a story from one of them that when the other students used to go out into the court of the hospital after lectures were over, they would invariably catch sight of young huxley's dark head at a certain window bent over a microscope while they amused themselves outside. the constant silhouette framed in the outlines of the window tickled the fancy of the young fellows, and a wag amongst them dubbed it with a name that stuck, "the sign of the head and microscope." the scientific paper, too, which he mentions, was somewhat remarkable under the circumstances. it is not given to every medical student to make an anatomical discovery, even a small one. in this case the boy of nineteen, investigating things for himself, found a hitherto undiscovered membrane in the root of the human hair, which received the name of huxley's layer. speculations, too, such as had filled his mind in early boyhood, still haunted his thoughts. in one of his letters from the "rattlesnake," he gives an account of how he was possessed in his student days by that problem which has beset so many a strong imagination, the problem of perpetual motion, and even sought an interview with faraday, whom he left with the resolution to meet the great man some day on a more equal footing.] march . to-day, ruminating over the manifold ins and outs of life in general, and my own in particular, it came into my head suddenly that i would write down my interview with faraday--how many years ago? aye, there's the rub, for i have completely forgotten. however, it must have been in either my first or second winter session at charing cross, and it was before christmas i feel sure. i remember how my long brooding perpetual motion scheme (which i had made more than one attempt to realise, but failed owing to insufficient mechanical dexterity) had been working upon me, depriving me of rest even, and heating my brain with chateaux d'espagne of endless variety. i remember, too, it was sunday morning when i determined to put the questions, which neither my wits nor my hands would set at rest, into some hands for decision, and i determined to go before some tribunal from whence appeal should be absurd. but to whom to go? i knew no one among the high priests of science, and going about with a scheme for perpetual motion was, i knew, for most people the same thing as courting ridicule among high and low. after all i fixed upon faraday, possibly perhaps because i knew where he was to be found, but in part also because the cool logic of his works made me hope that my poor scheme would be treated on some other principle than that of mere previous opinion one way or other. besides, the known courtesy and affability of the man encouraged me. so i wrote a letter, drew a plan, enclosed the two in an envelope, and tremblingly betook myself on the following afternoon to the royal institution. "is dr. faraday here?" said i to the porter. "no, sir, he has just gone out." i felt relieved. "be good enough to give him this letter," and i was hurrying out when a little man in a brown coat came in at the glass door. "here is dr. faraday," said the man, and gave him my letter. he turned to me and courteously inquired what i wished. "to submit to you that letter, sir, if you are not occupied." "my time is always occupied, sir, but step this way," and he led me into the museum or library, for i forget which it was, only i know there was a glass case against which we leant. he read my letter, did not think my plan would answer. was i acquainted with mechanism, what we call the laws of motion? i saw all was up with my poor scheme, so after trying a little to explain, in the course of which i certainly failed in giving him a clear idea of what i would be at, i thanked him for his attention, and went off as dissatisfied as ever. the sense of one part of the conversation i well recollect. he said "that were the perpetual motion possible, it would have occurred spontaneously in nature, and would have overpowered all other forces," or words to that effect. i did not see the force of this, but did not feel competent enough to discuss the question. however, all this exorcised my devil, and he has rarely come to trouble me since. some future day, perhaps, i may be able to call faraday's attention more decidedly. pergo modo! "wie das gestirn, ohne hast, ohne rast" (das gestirn in a midshipman's berth!). [in other respects also his student's career was a brilliant one. in he won the first chemical prize, the certificate stating that his "extraordinary diligence and success in the pursuit of this branch of science do him infinite honour." at the same time, he also won the first prize in the class of anatomy and physiology. on the back of wharton jones' certificate is scribbled in pencil: "well, 'tis no matter. honour pricks me on. yea, but how if honour prick me off when i come on? how then?" finally, in he went up for his m.b. at london university and won a gold medal for anatomy and physiology, being second in honours in that section. whatever then he might think of his own work, judged by his own standards, he had done well enough as medical students go. but a brilliant career as a student did not suffice to start him in life or provide him with a livelihood. how he came to enter the navy is best told in his own words.] it was in the early spring of , that, having finished my obligatory medical studies and passed the first m.b. examination at the london university, though i was still too young to qualify at the college of surgeons, i was talking to a fellow-student (the present eminent physician, sir joseph fayrer), and wondering what i should do to meet the imperative necessity for earning my own bread, when my friend suggested that i should write to sir william burnett, at that time director-general for the medical service of the navy, for an appointment. i thought this rather a strong thing to do, as sir william was personally unknown to me, but my cheery friend would not listen to my scruples, so i went to my lodgings and wrote the best letter i could devise. a few days afterwards i received the usual official circular of acknowledgment, but at the bottom there was written an instruction to call at somerset house on such a day. i thought that looked like business, so at the appointed time i called and sent in my card while i waited in sir william's anteroom. he was a tall, shrewd-looking old gentleman, with a broad scotch accent, and i think i see him now as he entered with my card in his hand. the first thing he did was to return it, with the frugal reminder that i should probably find it useful on some other occasion. the second was to ask whether i was an irishman. i suppose the air of modesty about my appeal must have struck him. i satisfied the director-general that i was english to the backbone, and he made some inquiries as to my student career, finally desiring me to hold myself ready for examination. having passed this, i was in her majesty's service, and entered on the books of nelson's old ship the "victory," for duty at haslar hospital, about a couple of months after my application. my official chief at haslar was a very remarkable person, the late sir john richardson, an excellent naturalist and far-famed as an indomitable arctic traveller. he was a silent, reserved man, outside the circle of his family and intimates; and having a full share of youthful vanity, i was extremely disgusted to find that "old john," as we irreverent youngsters called him, took not the slightest notice of my worshipful self, either the first time i attended him, as it was my duty to do, or for some weeks afterwards. i am afraid to think of the lengths to which my tongue may have run on the subject of the churlishness of the chief, who was, in truth, one of the kindest-hearted and most considerate of men. but one day, as i was crossing the hospital square, sir john stopped me and heaped coals of fire on my head by telling me that he had tried to get me one of the resident appointments, much coveted by the assistant-surgeons, but that the admiralty had put in another man. "however," said he, "i mean to keep you here till i can get you something you will like," and turned upon his heel without waiting for the thanks i stammered out. that explained how it was i had not been packed off to the west coast of africa like some of my juniors, and why, eventually, i remained altogether seven months at haslar. after a long interval, during which "old john" ignored my existence almost as completely as before, he stopped me again as we met in a casual way, and describing the service on which the "rattlesnake" was likely to be employed, said that captain owen stanley, who was to command the ship, had asked him to recommend an assistant surgeon who knew something of science; would i like that? of course i jumped at the offer. "very well, i give you leave; go to london at once and see captain stanley." i went, saw my future commander, who was very civil to me, and promised to ask that i should be appointed to his ship, as in due time i was. it is a singular thing that during the few months of my stay at haslar i had among my messmates two future directors-general of the medical service of the navy (sir alexander armstrong and sir john watt-reid), with the present president of the college of physicians, and my kindest of doctors, sir andrew clark. a letter to his eldest sister, lizzie, dated from haslar may , , shows how he regarded the prospect now opening before him.] ...as i see no special queries in your letter, i think i shall go on to tell you what that same way of life is likely to be--my fortune having already been told for me (for the next five years at least). i told you in my last that i was likely to have a permanency here. well, i was recommended by sir john richardson, and should have certainly had it, had not (luckily) the admiralty put in a man of their own. having a good impudent faith in my own star (wie das gestirn, ohne hast, ohne rast), i knew this was only because i was to have something better, and so it turned out; for a day or two after i was ousted from the museum, sir j. richardson (who has shown himself for some reason or another a special good friend to me) told me that he had received a letter from captain owen stanley, who is to command an exploring expedition to new guinea (not coast of africa, mind), requesting him to recommend an assistant surgeon for this expedition--would i like the appointment? as you may imagine i was delighted at the offer, and immediately accepted it. i was recommended accordingly to captain stanley and sir w. burnett, and i shall be appointed as soon as the ship is in commission. we are to have the "rattlesnake," a -gun frigate, and as she will fit out here i shall have no trouble. we sail probably in september. new guinea, as you may be aware, is a place almost unknown, and our object is to bring back a full account of its geography, geology, and natural history. in the latter department with which i shall have (in addition to my medical functions) somewhat to do, we shall form one grand collection of specimens and deposit it in the british museum or some other public place, and this main object being always kept in view, we are at liberty to collect and work for ourselves as we please. depend upon it unless some sudden attack of laziness supervenes, such an opportunity shall not slip unused out of my hands. the great difficulty in such a wide field is to choose an object. in this point, however, i hope to be greatly assisted by the scientific folks, to many of whom i have already had introductions (owen, gray, grant, forbes), and this, i assure you, i look upon as by no means the least of the advantages i shall derive from being connected with the expedition. i have been twice to town to see captain stanley. he is a son of the bishop of norwich, is an exceedingly gentlemanly man, a thorough scientific enthusiast, and shows himself altogether very much disposed to forward my views in every possible way. being a scientific man himself he will take care to have the ship's arrangements as far as possible in harmony with scientific pursuits--a circumstance you would appreciate as highly as i do if you were as well acquainted as i now am with the ordinary opportunities of an assistant surgeon. furthermore, i am given to understand that if one does anything at all, promotion is almost certain. so that altogether i am in a very fair way, and would snap my fingers at the grand turk. wharton jones was delighted when i told him about my appointment. dim visions of strangely formed corpuscles seemed to cross his imagination like the ghosts of the kings in "macbeth." what seems his head the likeness of a nucleated cell has on. [the law's delays are proverbial, but on this occasion, as on the return of the "rattlesnake," the admiralty seem to have been almost as provoking to the eager young surgeon as any lawyer could have been. the appointment was promised in may; it was not made till october. on the th of that month there is another letter to his sister, giving fuller particulars of his prospects on the voyage:--] my dearest lizzie, at last i have really got my appointment and joined my ship. i was so completely disgusted with the many delays that had occurred that i made up my mind not to write to anybody again until i had my commission in my hand. henceforward, like another jonah, my dwelling-place will be the "inwards" of the "rattlesnake," and upon the whole i really doubt whether jonah was much worse accommodated, so far as room goes, than myself. my total length, as you are aware, is considerable, feet inches, possibly, but the height of the lower deck of the "rattlesnake," which will be my especial location, is at the outside feet inches. what i am to do with the superfluous foot i cannot divine. happily, however, there is a sort of skylight into the berth, so that i shall be able to sit with the body in it and my head out. apart from joking, however, this is not such a great matter, and it is the only thing i would see altered in the whole affair. the officers, as far as i have seen them, are a very gentlemanly, excellent set of men, and considering we are to be together for four or five years, that is a matter of no small importance. i am not given to be sanguine, but i confess i expect a good deal to arise out of this appointment. in the first place, surveying ships are totally different from the ordinary run of men-of-war. the requisite discipline is kept up, but not in the martinet style. less form is observed. from the men who are appointed having more or less scientific turns, they have more respect for one another than that given by mere position in the service, and hence that position is less taken advantage of. they are brought more into contact, and hence those engaged in the surveying service almost proverbially stick by one another. to me, whose interest in the service is almost all to be made, this is a matter of no small importance. then again, in a surveying ship you can work. in an ordinary frigate if a fellow has the talents of all the scientific men from archimedes downwards compressed into his own peculiar skull they are all lost. even if it were possible to study in a midshipmen's berth, you have not room in your "chat" for more than a dozen books. but in the "rattlesnake" the whole poop is to be converted into a large chart-room with bookshelves and tables and plenty of light. there i may read, draw, or microscopise at pleasure, and as to books, i have a carte blanche from the captain to take as many as i please, of which permission we shall avail ourself--rather--and besides all this, from the peculiar way in which i obtained this appointment, i shall have a much wider swing than assistant surgeons in general get. i can see clearly that certain branches of the natural history work will fall into my hands if i manage properly through sir john richardson, who has shown himself a very kind friend all throughout, and also through captain stanley i have been introduced to several eminent zoologists--to owen and gray and forbes of king's college. from all these men much is to be learnt which becomes peculiarly my own, and can of course only be used and applied by me. from forbes especially i have learned and shall learn much with respect to dredging operations (which bear on many of the most interesting points of zoology). in consequence of this i may very likely be entrusted with the carrying of them out, and all that is so much the more towards my opportunities. again, i have learnt the calotype process for the express purpose of managing the calotype apparatus, for which captain stanley has applied to the government. and having once for all enumerated all these meaner prospects of mere personal advancement, i must confess i do glory in the prospect of being able to give myself up to my own favourite pursuits without thereby neglecting the proper duties of life. and then perhaps by the following of my favourite motto:-- wie das gestirn, ohne hast, ohne rast:-- something may be done, and some of sister lizzie's fond imaginations turn out not altogether untrue. i perceive that i have nearly finished a dreadfully egotistical letter, but i know you like to hear of my doings, so shall not apologise. kind regards to the doctor and kisses to the babbies. write me a long letter all about yourselves. your affectionate brother, t.h. huxley. [one more description to complete the sketch of his quarters on board the "rattlesnake." it is from a letter to his mother, written at plymouth, where the "rattlesnake" put in after leaving portsmouth. the comparison with the ordinary quarters of an assistant-surgeon, and the shifts to which a studious man might be put in his endeavour to find a quiet spot to work in, have a flavour of mr. midshipman easy about them to relieve the deplorable reality of his situation:--] you will be very glad to know that i am exceedingly comfortable here. my cabin has now got into tolerable order, and what with my books--which are, i am happy to say, not a few--my gay curtain and the spicy oilcloth which will be down on the floor, looks most respectable. furthermore, although it is an unquestionably dull day i have sufficient light to write here, without the least trouble, to read, or even if necessary, to use my microscope. i went to see a friend of mine on board the "recruit" the other day, and truly i hugged myself when i compared my position with his. the berth where he and seven others eat their daily bread is hardly bigger than my cabin, except in height--and, of course, he has to sleep in a hammock. my friend is rather an eccentric character, and, being missed in the ship, was discovered the other day reading in the main-top--the only place, as he said, sufficiently retired for study. and this is really no exaggeration. if i had no cabin i should take to drinking in a month. [it was during this period of waiting that he attended his first meeting of the british association, which was held in at southampton. here he obtained from professor edward forbes one of his living specimens of amphioxus lanceolatus, and made an examination of its blood. the result was a short paper read at the following meeting of the association, which showed that in the composition of its blood this lowly vertebrate approached very near the invertebrates. ("examination of the corpuscles of the blood of amphioxus lanceolatus" "british association report" page and "scientific memoirs" .) chapter . . - . [it is a curious coincidence that, like two other leaders of science, charles darwin and joseph dalton hooker, their close friend huxley began his scientific career on board one of her majesty's ships. he was, however, to learn how little the british government of that day, for all its professions, really cared for the advancement of knowledge. (the key to this attitude on the part of the admiralty is to be found in the scathing description in briggs' "naval administration from to " page , of the ruinous parsimony of either political party at this time with regard to the navy--a policy the results of which were only too apparent at the outbreak of the crimean war. i quote a couple of sentences, "the navy estimates were framed upon the lowest scale, and reduction pushed to the very verge of danger." "even from a financial point of view the course pursued was the reverse of economical, and ultimately led to wasteful and increased expenditure." thus the liberal professions of the admiralty were not fulfilled; its good will gave the young surgeon three and a half years of leave from active service; with an obdurate treasury, it could do no more.) but of the immense value to himself of these years of hard training, the discipline, the knowledge of men and of the capabilities of life, even without more than the barest necessities of existence--of this he often spoke. as he puts it in his autobiography:--] life on board her majesty's ships in those days was a very different affair from what it is now, and ours was exceptionally rough, as we were often many months without receiving letters or seeing any civilised people but ourselves. in exchange, we had the interest of being about the last voyagers, i suppose, to whom it could be possible to meet with people who knew nothing of firearms--as we did on the south coast of new guinea--and of making acquaintance with a variety of interesting savage and semi-civilised people. but, apart from experience of this kind and the opportunities offered for scientific work, to me, personally, the cruise was extremely valuable. it was good for me to live under sharp discipline; to be down on the realities of existence by living on bare necessaries: to find how extremely well worth living life seemed to be when one woke up from a night's rest on a soft plank, with the sky for canopy, and cocoa and weevilly biscuit the sole prospect for breakfast; and, more especially, to learn to work for the sake of what i got for myself out of it, even if it all went to the bottom and i along with it. my brother officers were as good fellows as sailors ought to be and generally are, but, naturally, they neither knew nor cared anything about my pursuits, nor understood why i should be so zealous in pursuit of the objects which my friends, the middies, christened "buffons," after the title conspicuous on a volume of the "suites a buffon," which stood on my shelf in the chart-room. [on the whole, life among the company of officers was satisfactory enough. (the assistant-surgeon messed in the gun-room with the middies. a man in the midst of a lot of boys, with hardly any grown-up companions, often has a rather unenviable position; but, says captain heath, who was one of these middies, huxley's constant good spirits and fun, when he was not absorbed in his work, his freedom from any assumption of superiority over them, made the boys his good comrades and allies.) huxley's immediate superior, john thompson, was a man of sterling worth; and captain stanley was an excellent commander, and sympathetic withal. among huxley's messmates there was only one, the ship's clerk, whoever made himself actively disagreeable, and a quarrel with him only served to bring into relief the young surgeon's integrity and directness of action. after some dispute, in which he had been worsted, this gentleman sought to avenge himself by dropping mysterious hints as to huxley's conduct before joining the ship. he had been treasurer of his mess; there had been trouble about the accounts, and a scandal had barely been averted. this was not long in coming to huxley's ears. furiously indignant as he was, he did not lose his self-control; but promptly inviting the members of the wardroom to meet as a court of honour, laid his case before them, and challenged his accuser to bring forward any tittle of evidence in support of his insinuations. the latter had nothing to say for himself, and made a formal retraction and apology. a signed account of the proceedings was kept by the first officer, and a duplicate by huxley, as a defence against any possible revival of the slander. on december , , the "rattlesnake" frigate left spithead, but touched again at plymouth to ship , pounds sterling of specie for the cape. this delay was no pleasure to the young huxley; it only served to renew the pain of parting from home, so that, after writing a last letter to reassure his mother as to the comfort of his present quarters, he was glad to lose sight of the english coast on the th. madeira was reached on the th. on the th they sailed for rio de janeiro, where they stayed from january to february , . here huxley had his first experience of tropical dredging in botafago bay, with macgillivray, naturalist to the expedition. it was a memorable occasion, the more so, because in the absence of a sieve they were compelled to use their hands as strainers the first day. happily the want was afterwards supplied by a meat cover. from the following letter it seems that several prizes of value were taken in the dredge:--] rio de janeiro, january , . my dear mother, four weeks of lovely weather and uninterrupted fair winds brought us to this southern fairyland. in my last letter i told you a considerable yarn about madeira, i guess, and so for fear lest you should imagine me scenery mad i will spare you any description of rio harbour. suffice it to say that it contends with the bay of naples for the title of the most beautiful place in the world. it must beat naples in luxuriance and variety of vegetation, but from all accounts, to say nothing of george's [his eldest brother] picture, falls behind it in the colours of sky and sea, that of the latter being in the harbour and for some distance outside of a dirty olive green like the washings of a painter's palette. we have come in for the purpose of effecting some trifling repairs, which, though not essential to the safety of the ship, will nevertheless naturally enhance the comfort of its inmates. this you will understand when i tell you that in consequence of these same defects i have had water an inch or two deep in my cabin, wish-washing about ever since we left madeira. we crossed the line on the th of this month, and as one of the uninitiated i went through the usual tomfoolery practised on that occasion. the affair has been too often described for me to say anything about it. i had the good luck to be ducked and shaved early, and of course took particular care to do my best in serving out the unhappy beggars who had to follow. i enjoyed the fun well enough at the time, but unquestionably it is on all grounds a most pernicious custom. it swelled our sick list to double the usual amount, and one poor fellow, i am sorry to say, died of the effects of pleurisy then contracted. we have been quite long enough at sea now to enable me to judge how i shall get on in the ship, and to form a very clear idea of how it fits me and how i fit it. in the first place i am exceedingly well and exceedingly contented with my lot. my opinion of the advantages lying open to me increases rather than otherwise as i see my way about me. i am on capital terms with all the superior officers, and i find them ready to give me all facilities. i have a place for my books and microscope in the chart room, and there i sit and read in the morning much as though i were in my rooms in agar street. my immediate superior, johnny thompson, is a long-headed good fellow without a morsel of humbug about him--a man whom i thoroughly respect, both morally and intellectually. i think it will be my fault if we are not fast friends through the commission. one friend on board a ship is as much as anybody has a right to expect. it is just the interval between the sea and the land breezes, the sea like glass, and not a breath stirring. i shall become soup if i do not go on deck. temperature in sun at noon in shade, in sun. n.b.--it has been up to in shade, in sun since this. march , . i see i concluded with a statement of temperature. since then it has been considerably better-- in sun; however, in the shade it rarely rises above or so, and when the sea or land breezes are blowing this is rather pleasant than otherwise. i have been ashore two or three times. the town is like most portuguese towns, hot and stinking, the odours here being improved by a strong flavour of nigger from the slaves, of whom there is an immense number. they seem to do all the work, and their black skins shine in the sun as though they had been touched up with warren, strand. they are mostly in capital condition, and on the whole look happier than the corresponding class in england, the manufacturing and agricultural poor, i mean. i have a much greater respect for them than for their beastly portuguese masters, than whom there is not a more vile, ignorant, and besotted nation under the sun. i only regret that such a glorious country as this should be in such hands. had brazil been colonised by englishmen, it would by this time have rivalled our indian empire. the naturalist macgillivray and i have had several excursions under pretence of catching butterflies, etc. on the whole, however, i think we have been most successful in imbibing sherry cobbler, which you get here in great perfection. by the way, tell cooke [his brother-in-law], with my kindest regards, that -- is a lying old thief, many of the things he told me about macgillivray, e.g., being an ignoramus in natural history, etc. etc., having proved to be lies. he is at any rate a very good ornithologist, and, i can testify, is exceedingly zealous in his vocation as a collector. as in these (points) mr. --'s statements are unquestionably false, i must confess i feel greatly inclined to disbelieve his other assertions. march . we sail hence on sunday for the cape, so i will finish up. if you have not already written to me at that place, direct your letters to h.m.s. "rattlesnake," sydney (to wait arrival). we shall probably be at the cape some weeks surveying, thence shall be take ourselves to the mauritius, and leave a card on paul and virginia, thence on to sydney; but it is of no use to direct to any place but the last. p.s.--the rattlesnakes are not idle. we shall most likely have something to say to the english savans before long. if i have any frizz in the fire i will let you know. [he gives a fuller account of this piece of work in a letter to his sister, dated sydney, august , . the two papers in question, as appears from the briefest notice in the "proceedings of the linnean society," ascribing them to william (!) huxley, were read in :--] in my last letter i think i mentioned to you that i had worked out and sent home to the president of the linnean society, through captain stanley, an account of physalia, or portuguese man-of-war as it is called, an animal whose structure and affinities had never been worked out. the careful investigation i made gave rise to several new ideas covering the whole class of animals to which this creature belongs, and these ideas i have had the good fortune to have had many opportunities of working out in the course of our subsequent wanderings, so that i am provided with materials for a second paper far more considerable in extent, and embracing an altogether wider field. this second paper is now partly in esse--that is, written out--and partly in posse--that is, in my head; but i shall send it before leaving. its title will be "observations upon the anatomy of the diphydae, and upon the unity of organisation of the diphydae and physophoridae," and it will have lots of figures to illustrate it. now when we return from the north i hope to have collected materials for a much bigger paper than either of these, and to which they will serve as steps. if my present anticipations turn out correct, this paper will achieve one of the great ends of zoology and anatomy, namely, the reduction of two or three apparently widely separated and incongruous groups into modifications of the single type, every step of the reasoning being based upon anatomical facts. there! think yourself lucky you have only got that to read instead of the slight abstract of all three papers with which i had some intention of favouring you. [these papers are to be found in volume of the "scientific memoirs" of t.h. huxley page .] but five years ago you threw a slipper after me for luck on my first examination, and i must have you to do it for everything else. [at the cape a stay of a month was made, from march to april , and certain surveying work was done, after which the "rattlesnake" sailed for mauritius. in spite of the fact that the novelty of tropical scenery had worn off, the place made a deep impression. he writes to his mother, may , :--] after a long and somewhat rough passage from the cape, we made the highland of the isle of france on the afternoon of the rd of this month, and passing round the northern extremity of the island, were towed into port louis by the handsomest of tugs about noon on the th. in my former letter i have spoken to you of the beauty of the places we have visited, of the picturesque ruggedness of madeira, the fine luxuriance of rio, and the rude and simple grandeur of south africa. much of my admiration has doubtless arisen from the novelty of these tropical or semitropical scenes, and would be less vividly revived by a second visit. i have become in a manner blase with fine sights and something of a critic. all this is to lead you to believe that i have really some grounds for the raptures i am going into presently about mauritius. in truth it is a complete paradise, and if i had nothing better to do, i should pick up some pretty french eve (and there are plenty) and turn adam. n.b. there are no serpents in the island. this island is, you know, the scene of st. pierre's beautiful story of paul and virginia, over which i suppose most people have sentimentalised at one time or another of their lives. until we reached here i did not know that the tale was like the lady's improver--a fiction founded on fact, and that paul and virginia were at one time flesh and blood, and that their veritable dust was buried at pamplemousses in a spot considered as one of the lions of the place, and visited as classic ground. now, though i never was greatly given to the tender and sentimental, and have not had any tendencies that way greatly increased by the elegancies and courtesies of a midshipman's berth,--not to say that, as far as i recollect, mdlle. virginia was a bit of a prude, and m. paul a pump,--yet were it but for old acquaintance sake, i determined on making a pilgrimage. pamplemousses is a small village about seven miles from port louis, and the road to it is lined by rows of tamarind trees, of cocoanut trees, and sugarcanes. i started early in the morning in order to avoid the great heat of the middle of the day, and having breakfasted at port louis, made an early couple of hours' walk of it, meeting on my way numbers of the coloured population hastening to market in all the varieties of their curious hindoo costume. after some trouble i found my way to the "tombeaux" as they call them. they are situated in a garden at the back of a house now in the possession of one mr. geary, an english mechanist, who puts up half the steam engines for the sugar mills in the island. the garden is now an utter wilderness, but still very beautiful; round it runs a grassy path, and in the middle of the path on each side towards the further extremity of the garden is a funeral urn supported on a pedestal, and as dilapidated as the rest of the affair. these dilapidations, as usual, are the work of english visitors, relic-hunters, who are as shameless here as elsewhere. i was exceedingly pleased on the whole with my excursion, and when i returned i made a drawing of the place, which i will send some day or other. since this i have made, in company with our purser and a passenger, mr. king, a regular pedestrian trip to see some very beautiful falls up the country. [leaving mauritius on may , they prolonged their voyage to sydney by being requisitioned to take more specie to hobart town, so that sydney was not reached until july , eight months since they had had news of home. the three months spent in this first visit to sydney proved to be one of the most vital periods in the young surgeon's career. from boyhood up, vaguely conscious of unrest, of great powers within him working to find expression, he had yet been to a certain extent driven in upon himself. he had been somewhat isolated from those of his own age by his eagerness for problems about which they cared nothing; and the tendency to solitude, the habit of outward reserve imposed upon an unusually warm nature, were intensified by the fact that he grew up in surroundings not wholly congenial. one member alone of his family felt with him that complete and vivid sympathy which is so necessary to the full development of such a nature. when he was fourteen this sister married and left home, but the bond between them was not broken. in some ways it was strengthened by the lad's love for her children; by his grief, scarcely less than her own, at the death of her eldest little girl. moreover they were brought into close companionship for a considerable time when, after his dismal period of apprenticeship at rotherhithe--to which he could never look back without a shudder--he came to work under her husband. she had encouraged him in his studies; had urged him to work for the botanical prize at sydenham college; had brightened his life with her sympathy, and believed firmly in the brilliant future which awaited him--a belief which for her sake, if for nothing else, he was eager to justify by his best exertions. he had not had, so far, much opportunity of entering the social world; but his visit to sydney gave him an opportunity of entering a good society to which his commission in the navy was a sufficient introduction. he was eager to find friendships if he could, for his reserve was anything but misanthropic. it was not long before he made the acquaintance of william macleay, a naturalist of wide research and great speculative ability; and struck up a close friendship with william fanning, one of the leading merchants of the town, a friendship which was to have momentous consequences. for it was at fanning's house that he met his future wife, miss henrietta anne heathorn, for whom he was to serve longer and harder than jacob thought to serve for rachel, but who was to be his help and stay for forty years, in his struggles ready to counsel, in adversity to comfort; the critic whose judgment he valued above almost any, and whose praise he cared most to win; his first care and his latest thought, the other self, whose union with him was a supreme example of mutual sincerity and devotion. it was a case of love, if not actually at first sight, yet of very rapid growth when he came to learn the quiet strength and tenderness of her nature as displayed in the management of her sister's household. a certain simplicity and directness united with an unusual degree of cultivation, had attracted him from the first. she had been two years at school in germany, and her knowledge of german and of german literature brought them together on common ground. things ran very smoothly at the beginning, and the young couple, whose united ages amounted to forty-four years, became engaged. the marriage was to take place on his promotion to the rank of full surgeon--a promotion he hoped to attain speedily at the conclusion of the voyage on the strength of his scientific work, for this was the inducement held out by the admiralty to energetic subalterns. the following letter to his sister describes the situation:--] sydney harbour, march , . ...i have deferred writing to you in the hope of knowing something from yourself of your doings and whereabouts, and now that we are on the eve of departing for a long cruise in torres straits, i will no longer postpone the giving you some account of "was ist geschehen" on this side of the world. we spent three months in sydney, and a gay three months of it we had,--nothing but balls and parties the whole time. in this corner of the universe, where men of war are rather scarce, even the old "rattlesnake" is rather a lion, and her officers are esteemed accordingly. besides, to tell you the truth, we are rather agreeable people than otherwise, and can manage to get up a very decent turn-out on board on occasion. what think you of your grave, scientific brother turning out a ball-goer and doing the "light fantastic" to a great extent? it is a great fact, i assure you. but there is a method in my madness. i found it exceedingly disagreeable to come to a great place like sydney and think there was not a soul who cared whether i was alive or dead, so i determined to go into what society was to be had and see if i could not pick up a friend or two among the multitude of the empty and frivolous. i am happy to say that i have had more success than i hoped for or deserved, and then as now, two or three houses where i can go and feel myself at home at all times. but my "home" in sydney is the house of my good friend mr. fanning, one of the first merchants in the place. but thereby hangs a tale which, of all people in the world, i must tell you. mrs. fanning has a sister, and the dear little sister and i managed to fall in love with one another in the most absurd manner after seeing one another--i will not tell you how few times, lest you should laugh. do you remember how you used to talk to me about choosing a wife? well, i think that my choice would justify even your fastidiousness...i think you will understand how happy her love ought to and does make me. i fear that in this respect indeed the advantage is on my side, for my present wandering life and uncertain position must necessarily give her many an anxious thought. our future is indeed none of the clearest. three years at the very least must elapse before the "rattlesnake" returns to england, and then unless i can write myself into my promotion or something else, we shall be just where we were. nevertheless i have the strongest persuasion that four years hence i shall be married and settled in england. we shall see. i am getting on capitally at present. habit, inclination, and now a sense of duty keep me at work, and the nature of our cruise affords me opportunities such as none but a blind man would fail to make use of. i have sent two or three papers home already to be published, which i have great hopes will throw light upon some hitherto obscure branches of natural history, and i have just finished a more important one, which i intend to get read at the royal society. the other day i submitted it to william macleay (the celebrated propounder of the quinary system), who has a beautiful place near sydney, and, i hear, "werry much approves what i have done." all this goes to the comforting side of the question, and gives me hope of being able to follow out my favourite pursuits in course of time, without hindrance to what is now the main object of my life. i tell netty to look to being a "frau professorin" one of these odd days, and she has faith, as i believe would have if i told her i was going to be prime minister. we go to the northward again about the rd of this month [april], and shall be away for ten or twelve months surveying in torres straits. i believe we are to refit in port essington, and that will be the only place approaching to civilisation that we shall see for the whole of that time; and after july or august next, when a provision ship is to come up to us, we shall not even get letters. i hope and trust i shall hear from you before then. do not suppose that my new ties have made me forgetful of old ones. on the other hand, these are if anything strengthened. does not my dearest nettie love you as i do! and do i not often wish that you could see and love and esteem her as i know you would. we often talk about you, and i tell her stories of old times. [another letter, a year later, gives his mother the answers to a string of questions which, mother-like, she had asked him, thirsting for exact and minute information about her future daughter-in-law:--] sydney, february , . [after describing how he had just come back from a nine months' cruise)--first and foremost, my dear mother, i must thank you for your very kind letter of september . i read the greater part of it to nettie, who was as much pleased as i with your kindly wishes towards both of us. now i suppose i must do my best to answer your questions. first, as to age, nettie is about three months younger than myself--that is the difference in our years, but she is in fact as much younger than her years as i am older than mine. next, as to complexion she is exceedingly fair, with the saxon yellow hair and blue eyes. then as to face, i really don't know whether she is pretty or not. i have never been able to decide the matter in my own mind. sometimes i think she is, and sometimes i wonder how the idea ever came into my head. whether or not, her personal appearance has nothing whatever to do with the hold she has upon my mind, for i have seen hundreds of prettier women. but i never met with so sweet a temper, so self-sacrificing and affectionate a disposition, or so pure and womanly a mind, and from the perfectly intimate footing on which i stand with her family i have plenty of opportunities of judging. as i tell her, the only great folly i am aware of her being guilty of was the leaving her happiness in the hands of a man like myself, struggling upwards and certain of nothing. as to my future intentions i can say very little about them. with my present income, of course, marriage is rather a bad look out, but i do not think it would be at all fair towards nettie herself to leave this country without giving her a wife's claim upon me...it is very unlikely i shall ever remain in the colony. nothing but a very favourable chance could induce me to do so. much must depend upon how things go in england. if my various papers meet with any success, i may perhaps be able to leave the service. at present, however, i have not heard a word of anything i have sent. professor forbes has, i believe, published some of macgillivary's letters to him, but he has apparently forgotten to write to macgillivray himself, or to me. so i shall certainly send him nothing more, especially as mr. macleay (of this place, and a great man in the naturalist world) has offered to get anything of mine sent to the zoological society. [in the paper mentioned in the letter of march , above ("on the anatomy and affinities of the family of the medusae"), huxley aimed at] "giving broad and general views of the whole class, considered as organised upon a given type, and inquiring into its relations with other families," [unlike previous observers whose patience and ability had been devoted rather to] "stating matters of detail concerning particular genera and species." [at the outset, section ("science memoirs" ), he states--] i would wish to lay particular stress upon the composition of this (the stomach) and other organs of the medusae out of two distinct membranes, as i believe that it is one of the essential peculiarities of their structure, and that a knowledge of the fact is of great importance in investigating their homologies. i will call these two membranes as such, and independently of any modifications into particular organs, "foundation membranes." [and in section (page ) one of the general conclusions which he deduces from his observations, is] that a medusa consists essentially of two membranes enclosing a variously-shaped cavity, inasmuch as its various organs are so composed, [a peculiarity shared by certain other families of zoophytes. this is a point which that eminent authority, professor g.j. allman, had in his mind when he wrote to call my attention "to a fact which has been overlooked in all the notices i have seen, and which i regard as one of the greatest claims of his splendid work on the recognition of zoologists. i refer to his discovery that the body of the medusae is essentially composed of two membranes, an outer and an inner, and his recognition of these as the homologues of the two primary germinal leaflets in the vertebrate embryo. now this discovery stands at the very basis of a philosophic zoology, and of a true conception of the affinities of animals. it is the ground on which haeckel has founded his famous gastraea theory, and without it kowalesky could never have announced his great discovery of the affinity of the ascidians and vertebrates, by which zoologists had been startled."] chapter . . - . [the whole cruise of the "rattlesnake" lasted almost precisely four years, her stay in australian waters nearly three. of this time altogether eleven months were spent at sydney, namely, july to october , ; january to february , and march to april , ; january to may , ; and february to may , . the three months of the first northern cruise were spent in the survey of the inshore passage--the passage, that is, within the great barrier reef for ships proceeding from india to sydney. in , while waiting for the right season to visit torres straits, a short cruise was made in february and march, to inspect the lighthouses in bass' straits. it was on this occasion that huxley visited melbourne, then an insignificant town, before the discovery of gold had brought a rush of immigrants. the second northern cruise of , which lasted nine months, had for its object the completion of the survey of the inner passage as far as new guinea and the adjoining archipelago. the third cruise in - again lasted nine months, and continued the survey in torres straits, the louisiade archipelago, and the south-eastern part of new guinea. after this the original plan was to make a fourth cruise, filling up the charts of the inner passage on the east coast, and surveying the straits of alass between lombok and sumbawa in the malay archipelago; then, instead of returning to sydney, to proceed to singapore and so home by the cape. but these plans were altered by the untimely death of captain stanley on march , and the "rattlesnake" sailed for england direct in may . there was a great monotony about these cruises, particularly to those who were not constantly engaged in the active work of surveying. the ship sailed slowly from place to place, hunting out reefs and islets; a stay of a few days would be made at some lonely island, while charting expeditions went out in the boats or supplies of water and fresh fruits were laid in. on the second expedition there were two cases of scurvy on board by the time the mail from sydney reached the ship at cape york with letters and lime-juice, the first reminder of civilisation for four months and a half. on this cruise there was an unusual piece of interest in kennedy's ill-fated expedition, which the "rattlesnake" landed in rockingham bay, and trusted to meet again at cape york. happy it was for huxley that his duties forbade him to accept kennedy's proposal to join the expedition. after months of weary struggles in the dense scrub, kennedy himself, who had pushed on for help with his faithful black man jacky, was speared by the natives when almost in sight of cape york; jack barely managed to make his way there through his enemies, and guided a party to the rescue of the two starved and exhausted survivors of the disease-stricken camp by the sugarloaf hill. it was barely time. another hour, and they too would have been killed by the crowd of blackfellows who hovered about in hopes of booty, and were only dispersed for a moment by the rescue party. on the third cruise there were a few adventures more directly touching the "rattlesnake." twice the landing parties, including huxley, were within an ace of coming to blows with the islanders of the louisiades, and on one occasion a portly member of the gun-room, being cut off by these black gentry, only saved his life by parting with all his clothes as presents to them, and keeping them amused by an impromptu dance in a state of nature under the broiling sun, until a party came to his relief. at cape york also, a white woman was rescued who had been made prisoner by the blacks from a wreck, and had lived among them for several years. here, too, huxley and macgillivray made a trip inland, and were welcomed by a native chief, who saw in the former the returning spirit of his dead brother. throughout the voyage huxley was busy with his pencil, and many lithographs from his drawings illustrate the account of the voyage afterwards published. as to his scientific work, he was accumulating a large stock of observations, but felt rather sore about the papers which he had already sent home, for no word had reached him as to their fate, not even that they had been received or looked over by forbes, to whom they had been consigned. as a matter of fact, they had not been neglected, as he was to find out on his return; but meanwhile the state of affairs was not reassuring to a man whose dearest hopes were bound up in the reception he could win for these and similar researches. altogether, it was with no little joy that he turned his back on the sweltering heat of torres straits, on the great mountains of new guinea, the owen stanley range, which had remained hidden from d'urville in the "astrolabe" to be discovered by the explorers on the "rattlesnake," and the far stretching archipelago of the louisiades, one tiny island in which still bears the name of huxley, after the assistant-surgeon of the "rattlesnake." a few extracts from letters of the time will give a more vivid idea of what the voyage was like. the first is from a letter to his mother, dated february , :--] ...i suppose you have wondered at the long intervals of my letters, but my silence has been forced. i wrote from rockingham bay in may, and from cape york in october. after leaving the latter place we have had no communication with any one but the folks at port essington, which is a mere military post, without any certain means of communication with england. we were ten weeks on our passage from port essington to sydney and touched nowhere, so that you may imagine we were pretty well tired of the sea by the time we reached port jackson. thank god we are now safely anchored in our old quarters, and for the next three months shall enjoy a few of those comforts that make life worth the living... the only place we have visited since my last budget to you was port essington, a military post which has been an object of much attention for some time past in connection with the steam navigation between sydney and india. it is about the most useless, miserable, ill-managed hole in her majesty's dominions. placed fifteen miles inland on the swampy banks of an estuary out of reach of the sea breezes, it is the most insufferably hot and enervating place imaginable. the temperature of the water alongside the ship was from to , i.e. about that of a moderately warm bath, so that you may fancy what it is on land. added to this, the commandant is a litigious old fool, always at war with his officers, and endeavouring to make the place as much of a hell morally as it is physically. little more than two years ago a detachment of sixty men came out to the settlement. at the parade on the sunday i was there; there were just ten men present. the rest were invalided, dead, or sick. i have no hesitation in saying that half of this was the result of ill-management. the climate in itself is not particularly unhealthy. we were all glad to get away from the place. [another is to his sister, under date sydney, march , :--] by the way, i may as well give you a short account of our cruise. we started from here last may to survey what is called the inner passage to india. you must know that the east coast of australia has running parallel to it at distances of from five miles to seventy or eighty an almost continuous line of coral reefs, the great barrier as it is called. outside this line is the great pacific, inside is a space varying in width as above, and cut up by little islands and detached reefs. now to get to india from sydney, ships must go either inside or outside the great barrier. the inside passage has been called the inner route in consequence of its desirability for steamers, and our business has been to mark out this inner route safely and clearly among the labyrinth-like islands and reefs within the barrier. and a parlous dull business it was for those who, like myself, had no necessary and constant occupation. fancy for five mortal months shifting from patch to patch of white sand in latitude from to south, living on salt pork and beef, and seeing no mortal face but our own sweet countenances considerably obscured by the long beard and moustaches with which, partly from laziness and partly from comfort, we had become adorned. i cultivated a peak in charles i style, which imparted a remarkably peculiar and triste expression to my sunburnt phiz, heightened by the fact that the aforesaid beard was, i regret to say it, of a very questionable auburn--my messmates called it red. we convoyed a land expedition as far as the rockingham bay in south under a mr. kennedy, which was to work its way up to cape york in south and there meet us. a fine noble fellow poor kennedy was too. i was a good deal with him at rockingham bay, and indeed accompanied him in the exploring trips which he made for some four or five days in order to see how the land lay about him. in fact we got on so well together that he wanted me much to accompany him and join the ship again at cape york, and if the service would have permitted of my absence i should certainly have done so. but it was well i did not. out of thirteen men composing the party but three remain alive. the rest have perished by starvation or the spears of the natives. poor kennedy himself had, in company with the black fellow attached to the party, by dint of incredible exertions, pushed on until he came within sight of the provision vessel waiting his arrival at cape york. but here, within grasp of his object, a large party of natives attacked and killed him. the black fellow alone reached cape york with the news. the other two men who were saved were the sole survivors of the party kennedy left behind him at a spot near the coast, and were picked up by the provision vessel when she returned. you may be sure i am not sorry to return home. i say home advisedly, for my friend fanning's house is as completely my home as it well can be. and then nettie had not heard anything of me for six months, so that i have been petted and spoiled ever since we came in...as i tell her i fear she has rested her happiness on a very insecure foundation; but she is full of hope and confidence, and to me her love is the faith that moveth mountains. we have, as you may be sure, a thousand difficulties in our way, but like danton i take for my motto, "de l'audace et encore de l'audace et toujours de l'audace," and look forward to a happy termination, nothing doubting. [to his mother (announcing the probable time of his return).] sydney, february , . i cannot at all realise the idea of our return. we have been leading such a semi-savage life for years past, such a wandering nomadic existence, that any other seems in a manner unnatural to me. time was when i should have looked upon our return with unmixed joy; but so many new and strong ties have arisen to unite me with sydney, that now when the anchor is getting up for england, i scarcely know whether to rejoice or to grieve. you must not be angry, my dear mother; i have none the less affection for you or any other of those whom i love in england--only a very great deal for a certain little lassie whom i must leave behind me without clearly seeing when we are to meet again. you must remember the scripture as my excuse, "a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave unto his" (i wish i could add) wife. our long cruises are fine times for reflection, and during the last i determined that we would be terribly prudent and get married about , or the greek kalends, or, what is about the same thing, whenever i am afflicted with the malheur de richesses. people talk about the satisfaction of an approving conscience. mine approves me intensely; but i'll be hanged if i see the satisfaction of it. i feel much more inclined to swear "worse than our armies in flanders."...so far as my private doings are concerned, i hear very satisfactory news of them. i heard from an old messmate of mine at haslar the other day that dr. macwilliam, f.r.s., one of our deputy-inspectors, had been talking about one of my papers, and gave him to understand that it was to be printed. furthermore, he is a great advocate for the claims of assistant surgeons to ward-room rank, and all that sort of stuff, and, i am told, quoted me as an example! henceforward i look upon the learned doctor as a man of sound sense and discrimination! without joking, however, i am glad to have come under his notice, as he may be of essential use to me. i find myself getting horribly selfish, looking at everything with regard to the influence it may have on my grand objects. [further descriptions of the voyage are to be drawn from an article in the "westminster review" for january (volume ), in which, under the title of "science at sea," huxley reviewed the "voyage of the 'rattlesnake'" by macgillivray, the naturalist to the expedition, which had recently appeared. this book gave very few descriptions of the incidents and life on board, and so drew in many ways a colourless picture of the expedition. this defect the reviewer sought to remedy by giving extracts from the so-called "unpublished correspondence" of one of the officers--sketches apparently written for the occasion--as well as from an equally unpublished but more real journal kept by the same hand. the description of the ship herself, of her inadequate equipment for the special purposes she was to carry out, of the officers' quiet contempt of scientific pursuits, which not even the captain's influence was able to subdue, of the illusory promises of help and advancement held out by the admiralty to young investigators, makes a striking foil to the spirit in which the government of thirty years later undertook a greater scientific expedition. perhaps some vivid recollections of this voyage did something to better the conditions under which the later investigators worked. thus, page :] in the year , captain owen stanley, a young and zealous officer, of good report for his capabilities as a scientific surveyor, was entrusted with the command of the "rattlesnake," a vessel of six-and-twenty guns, strong and seaworthy, but one of that class unenviably distinguished in the war-time as a "donkey-frigate." to the laity it would seem that a ship journeying to unknown regions, when the lives of a couple of hundred men may, at any moment, depend upon her handiness in going about, so as to avoid any suddenly discovered danger, should possess the best possible sailing powers. the admiralty, however, makes its selection upon other principles, and exploring vessels will be invariably found to be the slowest, clumsiest, and in every respect the most inconvenient ships which wear the pennant. in accordance with the rule, such was the "rattlesnake"; and to carry out the spirit of the authorities more completely, she was turned out of portsmouth dockyard in such a disgraceful state of unfitness, that her lower deck was continually under water during the voyage. [again, page :] it is necessary to be provided with books of reference, which are ruinously expensive to a private individual, though a mere dewdrop in the general cost of the fitting out of a ship, especially as they might be kept in store, and returned at the end of a commission, like other stores. a hundred pounds sterling would have well supplied the "rattlesnake"; but she sailed without a volume, an application made by her captain not having been attended to. [page :] of all those who were actively engaged upon the survey, the young commander alone was destined by inevitable fate to be robbed of his just reward. care and anxiety, from the mobility of his temperament, sat not so lightly upon him as they might have done, and this, joined to the physical debility produced by the enervating climate of new guinea, fairly wore him out, making him prematurely old before much more than half of the allotted span was completed. but he died in harness, the end attained, the work that lay before him honourably done. which of us may dare to ask for more? he has raised an enduring monument in his works, and his epitaph shall be the grateful thanks of many a mariner threading his way among the mazes of the coral sea. [page :] the world enclosed within the timbers of a man-of-war is a most remarkable community, hardly to be rendered vividly intelligible to the mere landsman in these days of constitutional government and freedom of the press. [then follows a vigorous sketch of sea life from chamisso, suggesting that the type of one's relation to the captain is to be found in jean paul's "biography of the twins," who were united back to back. this sketch huxley enforces by a passage from the imaginary journal aforesaid,] "indited apparently when the chains were yet new and somewhat galled the writer," [to judge from which] "little alteration would seem to have taken place in nautical life" [since chamisso's voyage, thirty years before.] you tell me [he writes], that you sigh for my life of freedom and adventure; and that, compared with mine, the conventional monotony of your own stinks in your nostrils. my dear fellow, be patient, and listen to what i have to say; you will then, perhaps, be a little more content with your lot in life, and a little less desirous of mine. of all extant lives, that on board a ship-of-war is the most artificial--whether necessarily so or not is a question i will not undertake to decide; but the fact is indubitable. how utterly disgusted you get with one another! little peculiarities which would give a certain charm and variety to social intercourse under any other circumstances, become sources of absolute pain, and almost uncontrollable irritation, when you are shut up with them day and night. one good friend and messmate of mine has a peculiar laugh, whose iteration on our last cruise nearly drove me insane. there is no being alone in a ship. sailors are essentially gregarious animals, and don't at all understand the necessity under which many people labour--i among the rest--of having a little solitary converse with oneself occasionally. then, to a landsman fresh from ordinary society and its peculiarly undemonstrative ways, there is something very wonderful about naval discipline. i do not mean to say that the subordination kept up is more than is necessary, nor perhaps is it in reality greater than is to be found in a college, or a regiment, or a large mercantile house; but it is made so very obvious. you not only feel the bit, but you see it; and your bridle is hung with bells to tell you of its presence. your captain is a very different person, in relation to his officers, from the colonel of a regiment; he is a demi-god, a dalai lama, living in solitary state; sublime, unapproachable; and the radiation of his dignity stretches through all the other members of the nautical hierarchy; hence all sorts of petty intrigues, disputes, grumblings, and jealousies, which, to the irreverent eye of an "idler," give to the whole little society the aspect of nothing so much as the court of prinz irenaeus in kater murr's inestimable autobiography. [page sq.: after describing the illusory promises of the admiralty and their grudging spirit towards the scientific members of the expedition, he continues:--] these are the facilities and encouragement to science afforded by the admiralty; and it cannot be wondered at if the same spirit runs through its subordinate officers. not that there is any active opposition--quite the reverse. but it is a curious fact, that if you want a boat for dredging, ten chances to one they are always actually or potentially otherwise disposed of; if you leave your towing-net trailing astern in search of new creatures, in some promising patch of discoloured water, it is, in all probability, found to have a wonderful effect in stopping the ship's way, and is hauled in as soon as your back is turned; or a careful dissection waiting to be drawn may find its way overboard as a "mess." the singular disrespect with which the majority of naval officers regard everything that lies beyond the sphere of routine, tends to produce a tone of feeling very unfavourable to scientific exertions. how can it be otherwise, in fact, with men who, from the age of thirteen, meet with no influence but that which teaches them that the "queen's regulations and instructions" are the law and the prophets, and something more? it may be said, without fear of contradiction, that in time of peace the only vessels which are engaged in services involving any real hardship or danger are those employed upon the various surveys; and yet the men of easy routine--harbour heroes--the officers of regular men-of-war, as they delight to be called, pretend to think surveying a kind of shirking--in sea-phrase, "sloping." it is to be regretted that the officers of the surveying vessels themselves are too often imbued with the same spirit; and though, for shame's sake, they can but stand up for hydrography, they are too apt to think an alliance with other branches of science as beneath the dignity of their divinity--the "service." [page :] any adventures ashore were mere oases, separated by whole deserts of the most wearisome ennui. for weeks, perhaps, those who were not fortunate enough to be living hard and getting fatigued every day in the boats were yawning away their existence in an atmosphere only comparable to that of an orchid-house, a life in view of which that of mariana in the moated grange has its attractions. for instance, consider this extract from the journal of one of the officers, date august :-- "rain! rain! encore et toujours--i wonder if it is possible for the mind of man to conceive anything more degradingly offensive than the condition of us men, shut up in this wooden box, and being watered with hot water, as we are now. it is no exaggeration to say hot, for the temperature is that at which people at home commonly take a hot bath. it rains so hard that we have caught seven tons of water in one day, and it is therefore impossible to go on deck, though, if one did, one's condition would not be much improved. a hot scotch mist covers the sea and hides the land, so that no surveying can be done; moving about in the slightest degree causes a flood of perspiration to pour out; all energy is completely gone, and if i could help it i would not think even; it's too hot. the rain awnings are spread, and we can have no wind sails up; if we could, there is not a breath of wind to fill them; and consequently the lower and main decks are utterly unventilated: a sort of solution of man in steam fills them from end to end, and surrounds the lights with a lurid halo. it's too hot to sleep, and my sole amusement consists in watching the cockroaches, which are in a state of intense excitement and happiness. they manifest these feelings in a very remarkable manner--a sudden unanimous impulse seems to seize the obscene thousands which usually lurk hidden in the corners of my cabin. out they rush, helter-skelter, and run over me, my table, and my desk; others, more vigorous, fly, quite regardless of consequences, until they hit against something, upon which, half spreading their wings, they make their heads a pivot and spin round in a circle, in a manner which indicates a temporary aberration of the cockroach mind. it is these outbreaks alone which rouse us from our lassitude. knocks are heard resounding on all sides, and each inhabitant of a cabin, armed with a slipper, is seen taking ample revenge upon the disturbers of his rest and the destroyers of his body and clothes." here, on the other hand, is an oasis, a bartering scene at bruny island, in the louisiade:-- "we landed at the same place as before, and this time the natives ran down prancing and gesticulating. many of them had garlands of green leaves round their heads, knees, and ankles; some wore long streamers depending from their arms and ears and floating in the wind as they galloped along, shaking their spears and prancing just as boys do when playing at horses. they soon surrounded us, shouting 'kelumai! kelumai!' (their word for iron), and offering us all sorts of things in exchange. one very fine athletic man, "kaioo-why-who-at' by name, was perfectly mad to get an axe, and very soon comprehended the arrangements that were made. mr. brady drew ten lines on the sand and laid an axe down by them, giving k-- (i really can't write that long name all over again) to understand by signs that when there was a 'bahar' (yam) on every mark he should have the axe. he comprehended directly, and bolted off as fast as he could run, soon returning with his hands full of yams, which he deposited one by one on the appropriate lines; then fearful lest some of the others should do him out of the axe, he caught hold of brady by the arm, and would not let him go until yams enough had been brought by the others to make up the number, and the axe was handed over to him. "then was there a yell of delight! he jumped up with the axe, flourished it, passed it to his companions, tumbled down and rolled over, kicking up his heels in the air, and finally, catching hold of me, we had a grand waltz, with various poses plasticques, for about a quarter of a mile. i daresay he was unsophisticated enough to imagine that i was filled with sympathetic joy, but i grieve to say that i was taking care all the while to direct his steps towards the village, which, as we had as yet examined none of their houses, i was most desirous of entering under my friend's sanction. i think he suspected something, for he looked at me rather dubiously when i directed our steps towards the entrance in the bush which led to the houses, and wanted me to go back; but i was urgent, so he gave way, and we both entered the open space, where we were joined by two or three others, and sat down under a cocoanut tree. "i persuaded him to sit for his portrait (taking care first that my back was against the tree and my pistols handy), and we ate green cocoanuts together, at last attaining to so great a pitch of intimacy that he made me change names with him, calling himself 'tamoo' (my cape york name), and giving me to understand that i was to take his own lengthy appellation. when i did so, and talked to him as 'tamoo,' nothing could exceed the delight of all around; they patted me as you would a child, and evidently said to one another, 'this really seems to be a very intelligent white fellow.' "like the cape york natives, they were immensely curious to look at one's legs, asking permission, very gently but very pressingly, to pull up the trouser, spanning the calf with their hands, drawing in their breath and making big eyes all the while. once, when the front of my shirt blew open, and they saw the white skin of my chest, they set up an universal shout. i imagine that as they paint their faces black, they fancied that we ingeniously coloured ours white, and were astonished to see that we were really of that (to them) disgusting tint all over." [on may , , the "rattlesnake" sailed for the last time out of sydney harbour, bound for england by way of the horn. in spite of his cheerful anticipations, huxley was not to see his future wife again for five years more, when he was at length in a position to bid her come and join him. during the three years of their engagement in australia, they had at least been able to see each other at intervals, and to be together for months at a time. in the long periods of absence, also, they had invented a device to cheat the sense of separation. each kept a particular journal, to be exchanged when they met again, and only to be read, day by day, during the next voyage. but now it was very different, their only means of communication being the slow agency of the post, beset with endless possibilities of misunderstanding when it brought belated answers to questions already months old and out of date in the changed aspect of circumstances. these perils, however, they weathered, and it proves how deep in the moral nature of each the bond between them was rooted, that in the end they passed safely through the still greater danger of imperceptibly growing estranged from one another under the influences of such utterly different surroundings. a kindly storm which forced the old ship to put into the bay of islands to repair a number of small leaks that rendered the lower deck uninhabitable, made it possible for huxley to send back a letter that should reach australia in one month instead of ten after his departure. he utilized a week's stay here characteristically enough in an expedition to waimate, the chief missionary station and the school of the native institutions (a sort of normal school for native teachers), in order to judge of his own inspection what missionary life was like.] i have been greatly surprised in these good people [he writes]. i had expected a good deal of "straight-hairedness" (if you understand the phrase) and methodistical puritanism, but i find it quite otherwise. both mr. and mrs. burrows seem very quiet and unpretending--straightforward folks desirous of doing their best for the people among whom they are placed. [one touch must not be allowed to pass unnoticed in his appreciation of the missionaries' unstudied welcome to the belated travellers, whose proper host was unable to take them in:--"tea unlimited and a blazing fire, together with a very nice cat." by july , midwinter of course in the southern hemisphere, they had rounded the horn, and huxley writes from that most desolate of british possessions, the falkland islands:--] i have great hopes of being able to send a letter to you, via california, even from this remote corner of the world. it is the ultima thule and no mistake. fancy two good-sized islands with undulated surface and sometimes elevated hills, but without tree or bush as tall as a man. when we arrived the th inst. the barren uniformity was rendered still more obvious by the deep coating of snow which enveloped everything. how can i describe to you "stanley," the sole town, metropolis, and seat of government? it consists of a lot of black, low, weatherboard houses scattered along the hillsides which rise round the harbour. one barnlike place is government house, another the pensioners' barracks, rendered imposing by four field-pieces in front; others smaller are the residences of the colonel, surgeon, etc. in one particularly black and unpromising-looking house lives a mrs. sulivan, the wife of captain sulivan, who surveyed these islands, and has settled out here. (captain sulivan, who sailed with darwin in the "beagle," and served with great distinction in command of the southern division of the fleet in the battle of obligado (plate river), had surveyed the falkland islands many years before his temporary settlement there. during the crimean war he was surveying officer to the baltic fleet, and afterwards naval adviser to the board of trade. he was afterwards admiral and k.c.b.) i asked myself if i could have had the heart to bring you to such a desolate place, and myself said "no." however, i believe she is very happy with her children. sulivan is a fine energetic man, so i suppose if she loves him, well and good, and fancies (is she not a silly woman?) that she has her reward. mrs. stanley has gone to stay with them while the ship remains here, and i think i shall go and look them up under pretence of making a call. they say that the present winter is far more savage than the generality of falkland island winters, and it had need be, for i never felt anything so bitterly cold in my life. the thermometer has been down below , and shallow parts of the harbour even have frozen. nothing to be done ashore. my rifle lies idle in its case; no chance of a shot at a bull, and one has to go away miles to get hold even of the upland geese and rabbits. the only thing to be done is to eat, eat, eat, and the cold assists one wonderfully in that operation. you consume a pound or so of beefsteaks at breakfast and then walk the deck for an appetite at dinner, when you take another pound or two of beef or a goose, or some such trifle. by four o'clock it is dark night, and as it is too cold to read the only thing to be done is to vanish under blankets as soon as possible and take twelve or fourteen hours' sleep. mrs. stanley's bougirigards [the australian love-bird; a small parrakeet.], which i have taken under my care during the cold weather, admire this sort of thing exceedingly and thrive under it, so i suppose i ought to. the journey from new zealand here has been upon the whole favourable; no gales--quite the reverse--but light variable winds and calms. the latter part of our voyage has, however, been very cold, snow falling in abundance, and the ice forming great stalactites about our bows. we have seen no icebergs nor anything remarkable. from all i can learn it is most probable that we shall leave in about a week and shall go direct to england without stopping at any other port. i wish it may be so. i want to get home and look about me. we have had news up to the end of march. there is nothing of any importance going on. by the navy list for april i see that i shall be as nearly as possible in the middle of those of my own rank, i.e. i shall have about above and as many below me. this is about what i ought to expect in the ordinary run of promotion in eight years, and i have served four and a half of that time. i don't expect much in the way of promotion, especially in these economic times; but i do not fear that i shall be able to keep me in england for at least a year after our arrival, in order to publish my papers. the admiralty have quite recently published a distinct declaration that they will consider scientific attainments as a claim to their notice, and i expect to be the first to remind them of their promise, and i will take care to have the reminder so backed that they must and shall take note of it. even if they will not promote me at once, it would answer our purpose to have an appointment to some ship on the home station for a short time. [the last of the falklands was seen on july ; the line was crossed in thirty-six days; another month, and water running short, it was found necessary to put in at the azores for a week. leaving fayal on october , the "rattlesnake" reached plymouth on the rd, but next day proceeded to chatham, which, thanks to baffling winds, was not reached till november , when the ship was paid off. chapter . . - . [in the huxley lecture for ("times," october ) professor virchow takes occasion to speak of the effect of huxley's service in the "rattlesnake" upon his intellectual development:-- when huxley himself left charing cross hospital in , he had enjoyed a rich measure of instruction in anatomy and physiology. thus trained, he took the post of naval surgeon, and by the time that he returned, four years later, he had become a perfect zoologist and a keen-sighted ethnologist. how this was possible any one will readily understand who knows from his own experience how great the value of personal observation is for the development of independent and unprejudiced thought. for a young man who, besides collecting a rich treasure of positive knowledge, has practised dissection and the exercise of a critical judgment, a long sea-voyage and a peaceful sojourn among entirely new surroundings afford an invaluable opportunity for original work and deep reflection. freed from the formalism of the schools, thrown upon the use of his own intellect, compelled to test each single object as the prevailing system and becomes, first a sceptic, and then an investigator. this change, which did not fail to affect huxley, and through which arose that huxley whom we commemorate to-day, is no unknown occurrence to one who is acquainted with the history, not only of knowledge, but also of scholars. but he was not destined to find his subsequent path easy. once in england, indeed, he did not lose any time. no sooner had the "rattlesnake" touched at plymouth than commander yule, who had succeeded captain stanley in the command of the ship, wrote to the head of the naval medical department stating the circumstances under which huxley's zoological investigations had been undertaken, and asking the sanction of the admiralty for their publication. the hydrographer, in sending the formal permission, says:-- but i have to add that their lordships will not allow any charge to be made upon the public funds towards the expense. you will, however, further assure mr. huxley that any assistance that can be supplied from this office shall be most cheerfully given to him, and that i heartily hope, from the capacity and taste for scientific investigation for which you give him credit, that he will produce a work alike creditable to himself, to his late captain, by whom he was selected for it, and to her majesty's service. personally, the hydrographer took a great interest in science; but as for the department, huxley somewhat bitterly interpreted the official meaning of this well-sounding flourish to be made: "publish if you can, and give us credit for granting every facility except the one means of publishing." happily there was another way of publishing, if the admiralty would grant him time to arrange his papers and superintend their publication. the royal society had at their disposal an annual grant of money for the publication of scientific works. if the government would not contribute directly to publish the researches made under their auspices, the favourable reception which his preliminary papers had met with led huxley to hope that his greater work would be undertaken by the royal society. if the leading men of science attested the value of his work, the admiralty might be induced to let him stay in england with the nominal appointment as assistant surgeon to h.m.s. "fisguard" at woolwich, for "particular service," but with leave of absence from the ship so that he could live and pursue his avocations in london. there was a precedent for this course in the case of dr. hooker, when he had to work out the scientific results of the voyage of the "erebus" and "terror." in this design he was fortified by his old haslar friend, dr. (afterwards sir john) watt reid, who wrote: "they cannot, and, i am sure, will not wish to stand in your way at whitehall." meanwhile, the first person, naturally, he had thought of consulting was his old chief, sir john richardson, who had great weight at the admiralty, and to him he wrote the following letter before leaving plymouth.] to sir john richardson. october , . i regret very much that in consequence of our being ordered to be paid off at chatham, instead of portsmouth, as we always hoped and expected, i shall be unable to submit to your inspection the zoological notes and drawings which i have made during our cruise. they are somewhat numerous (over sheets of drawings), and i hope not altogether valueless, since they have been made with as great care and attention as i am master of--and with a microscope, such as has rarely, if ever, made a voyage round the world before. a further reason for indulging in this hope consists in the fact that they relate for the most part to animals hitherto very little known, whether from their rarity or from their perishable nature, and that they bear upon many curious physiological points. i may thus classify and enumerate the observations i have made:-- . upon the organs of hearing and circulation in some of the transparent crustacea, and upon the structure of certain of the lower forms of crustacea. . upon some very remarkable new forms of annelids, and especially upon the much contested genus sagitta, which i have evidence to show is neither a mollusc nor an epizoon, but an annelid. . upon the nervous system of certain mollusca hitherto imperfectly described--upon what appears to me to be an urinary organ in many of them--and upon the structure of firola and atlanta, of which latter i have a pretty complete account. . upon two perfectly new (ordinally new) species of ascidians. . upon pyrosoma and salpa. the former has never been described (i think) since savigny's time, and he had only specimens preserved in spirits. i have a great deal to add and alter. then as to salpa, whose mode of generation has always been so great a bone of contention, i have a long series of observations and drawings which i have verified over and over again, and which, if correct, must give rise to quite a new view of the matter. i may mention as an interesting fact that in these animals so low in the scale i have found a placental circulation, rudimentary indeed, but nevertheless a perfect model on a small scale of that which takes place in the mammalia. . i have the materials for a monograph upon the acalephae and hydrostatic acalephae. i have examined very carefully more than forty genera of these animals--many of them very rare, and some quite new. but i paid comparatively little attention to the collection of new species, caring rather to come to some clear and definite idea as to the structure of those which had indeed been long known, but very little understood. unfortunately for science, but fortunately for me, this method appears to have been somewhat novel with observers of these animals, and consequently everywhere new and remarkable facts were to be had for the picking up. it is not to be supposed that one could occupy one's self with the animals for so long without coming to some conclusion as to their systematic place, however subsidiary to observation such considerations must always be regarded, and it seems to me (although on such matters i can of course only speak with the greatest hesitation) that just as the more minute and careful observations made upon the old "vermes" of linnaeus necessitated the breaking up of that class into several very distinct classes, so more careful investigation requires the breaking up of cuvier's "radiata" (which succeeded the "vermes" as a sort of zoological lumber-room) into several very distinct and well-defined new classes, of which the acalephae, hydrostatic acalephae, actinoid and hydroid polypes, will form one. but i fear that i am trespassing beyond the limits of a letter. i have only wished to state what i have done in order that you may judge concerning the propriety or impropriety of what i propose to do. and i trust that you will not think that i am presuming too much upon your kindness if i take the liberty of thus asking your advice about my own affairs. in truth, i feel in a manner responsible to you for the use of the appointment you procured for me; and furthermore, captain stanley's unfortunate decease has left the interests of the ship in general and my own in particular without a representative. can you inform me, then, what chance i should have either ( ) of procuring a grant for the publication of my papers, or ( ) should that not be feasible, to obtain a nominal appointment (say to the "fisguard" at woolwich, as in dr. hooker's case) for such time as might be requisite for the publication of my papers and drawings in some other way? i shall see professors owen and forbes when i reach london, and i have a letter of introduction to sir john herschel (who has, i hear, a great penchant for the towing-net). supposing i could do so, would it be of any use to procure recommendations from them that my papers should be published? [[half-erased] to sir f. beaufort also i have a letter.] would it not be proper also to write to sir w. burnett acquainting him with my views, and requesting his acquiescence and assistance? begging an answer at your earliest convenience, addressed either to the "rattlesnake" or to my brother, i remain, your obedient servant, t.h. huxley. north bank. [he received a most friendly reply from "old john." he was willing to do all in his power to help, but could recommend government aid better if he had seen the drawings. meantime a certificate should be got from forbes, the best man in this particular branch of science, backed, if possible, by owen. he would speak to some officials himself, and give huxley introductions to others, and if he could get up to town, would try to see the collections and add his name to the certificate. both forbes and owen were ready to help. the former wrote a most encouraging letter, singling out the characteristics which gave a peculiar value to these papers:-- i have had very great pleasure in examining your drawings of animals observed during the voyage of the "rattlesnake," and have also fully availed myself of the opportunity of going over the collections made during the course of the survey upon which you have been engaged. i can say without exaggeration that more important or more complete zoological researches have never been conducted during any voyage of discovery in the southern hemisphere. the course you have taken of directing your attention mainly to impreservable creatures, and to those orders of the animal kingdom respecting which we have least information, and the care and skill with which you have conducted elaborate dissections and microscopic examinations of the curious creatures you were so fortunate as to meet with, necessarily gives a peculiar and unique character to your researches, since thereby they fill up gaps in our knowledge of the animal kingdom. this is the more important, since such researches have been almost always neglected during voyages of discovery. the value of some of your notes was publicly acknowledged during your absence, when your memoir on the structure of the medusae, communicated to the royal society, was singled out for publication in the "philosophical transactions." it would be a very great loss to science if the mass of new matter and fresh observation which you have accumulated were not to be worked out and fully published, as well as an injustice to the merits of the expedition in which you have served. the latter offered to write to the admiralty on his behalf, giving the weight of his name to the suggestion that the work to be done would take at least twelve months, and that therefore his appointment to the "fisguard" should not be limited to any less period.] "they might be disposed," [wrote huxley to him,] "to cut anything i request down--on principle." [moreover, owen, forbes, bell, and sharpey, all members of the committee of recommendation of the royal society, had expressed themselves so favourably to his views that in his application he was able to relieve the economic scruples of the admiralty by telling them that he had a means of publishing his papers through the royal society. the result of his application, thus backed, was that he obtained his appointment on november . it was for six months, subject to extension if he were able to report satisfactory progress with his work. a long letter to his sister, now settled in tennessee, gives a good idea of his aims and hopes at this time.] north bank, regent's park. november , . my dearest lizzie, we have been at home now nearly three weeks, and i have been a free man again twelve days. her majesty's ships have been paid off on the th of this month. properly speaking, indeed, we have been at home longer, for we touched at plymouth and trod english ground and saw english green fields on the rd of october, but we were allowed to remain only twenty-four hours, and to my great disgust were ordered round to chatham to be paid off. the ill-luck which had made our voyage homeward so long (we sailed from sydney on the nd of may) pursued us in the channel, and we did not reach chatham until the nd of november; and what do you think was one of the first things i did when we reached plymouth? wrote to eliza k. asking news of a certain naughty sister of mine, from whom i had never heard a word since we had been away--and if perchance there should be any letter, begging her to forward it immediately to chatham. and so, when at length we got there, i found your kind long letter had been in england some six or seven months; but hearing of the likelihood of our return, they had very judiciously not sent it to me. your letter, my poor lizzie, justifies many a heartache i have had when thinking over your lot, knowing, as i well do, what emigrant life is in climates less trying than that in which you live. i have seen a good deal of bush life in australia, and it enables me fully to sympathise with and enter into every particular you tell me--from the baking and boiling and pigs squealing, down to that ferocious landshark mrs. gunther, of whose class australia will furnish fine specimens. had i been at home, too, i could have enlightened the good folks as to the means of carriage in the colonies, and could have told them that the two or twenty thousand miles over sea is the smallest part of the difficulty and expense of getting anything to people living inland; as it is, i think i have done some good in the matter; their meaning was good but their discretion small. but the obtuseness of english in general about anything out of the immediate circle of their own experience is something wonderful. i had heard here and there fractional accounts of your doings from eliza k. and my mother--not of the most cheery description--and therefore i was right glad to get your letter, which, though it tells of sorrow and misfortune enough and to spare, yet shows me that the brave woman's heart you always had, my dearest lizzie, is still yours, and that you have always had the warm love of those immediately around you, and now, as the doctor's letter tells us, you have one more source of joy and happiness, and this new joy must efface the bitterness--i do not say the memory, knowing how impossible that would be--of your great loss. [the death of her little daughter jessie]. god knows, my dear sister, i could feel for you. it was as if i could see again a shadow of the great sorrow that fell upon us all years ago. nothing can bind me more closely to your children than i am already, but if the christening be not all over you must let me be godfather; and though i fear i am too much of a heretic to promise to bring him up a good son of the church--yet should ever the position which you prophesy, and of which i have an "ahnung" (though i don't tell that to anybody but nettie), be mine, he shall (if you will trust him to me) be cared for as few sons are. as things stand, i am talking half nonsense, but i mean it--and you know of old, for good and for evil, my tenacity of purpose. now, as to my own affairs--i am not married. prudently, at any rate, but whether wisely or foolishly i am not quite sure yet, nettie and i resolved to have nothing to do with matrimony for the present. in truth, though our marriage was my great wish on many accounts, yet i feared to bring upon her the consequences that might have occurred had anything happened to me within the next few years. we had a sad parting enough, and as is usually the case with me, time, instead of alleviating, renders more disagreeable our separation. i have a woman's element in me. i hate the incessant struggle and toil to cut one another's throat among us men, and i long to be able to meet with some one in whom i can place implicit confidence, whose judgment i can respect, and yet who will not laugh at my most foolish weaknesses, and in whose love i can forget all care. all these conditions i have fulfilled in nettie. with a strong natural intelligence, and knowledge enough to understand and sympathise with my aims, with firmness of a man, when necessary, she combines the gentleness of a very woman and the honest simplicity of a child, and then she loves me well, as well as i love her, and you know i love but few--in the real meaning of the word, perhaps, but two--she and you. and now she is away, and you are away. the worst of it is i have no ambition, except as means to an end, and that end is the possession of a sufficient income to marry upon. i assure you i would not give two straws for all the honours and titles in the world. a worker i must always be--it is my nature--but if i had pounds sterling a year i would never let my name appear to anything i did or shall ever do. it would be glorious to be a voice working in secret and free from all those personal motives that have actuated the best. but, unfortunately, one is not a "vox et praeterea nihil," but with a considerable corporality attached which requires feeding, and so while my inner man is continually indulging in these anchorite reflections, the outer is sedulously elbowing and pushing as if he dreamed of nothing but gold medals and professors' caps. i am getting on very well--better i fear than i deserve. one of my papers was published in in the "philosophical transactions," another in the "zoological transactions," and some more may be published in the "linnean" if i like--but i think i shall not like. then i have worked pretty hard, and brought home a considerable amount of drawings and notes about new or rare animals, all particularly nasty slimy things, and they will most likely be published as a separate work by the royal society. owens, forbes, bell, and sharpey (the doctor will tell you of what weight these names are) are all members of the committee which disposes of the money, and are all strongly in favour of my "valuable researches" (cock-a-doodle-doo!!) being published by the society. from various circumstances i have taken a better position than i could have expected among these grandees, and i find them all immensely civil and ready to help me on, tooth and nail, particularly professor forbes, who is a right good fellow, and has taken a great deal of trouble on my behalf. owen volunteered to write to the "first lord" on my behalf, and did so. sharpey, when i saw him, reminded me, as he always does, of my great contest with stocks (do you remember throwing the shoe?), and promised me all the assistance in his power. professor bell, who is secretary to the royal, and has great influence, promised to help me in every way, and asked me to dine with him and meet a lot of nobs. i take all these things quite as a matter of course, but am all the while considerably astonished. the other day i dined at the geological club and met lyell, murchison, de la b[eche] horner, and a lot more, and last evening i dined with a whole lot of literary and scientific people. owen was, in my estimation, great, from the fact of his smoking his cigar and singing his song like a brick. i tell you all these things to show you clearly how i stand. i am under no one's patronage, nor do i ever mean to be. i have never asked, and i never will ask, any man for his help from mere motives of friendship. if any man thinks that i am capable of forwarding the great cause in ever so small a way, let him just give me a helping hand and i will thank him, but if not, he is doing both himself and me harm in offering it, and if it should be necessary for me to find public expression to my thoughts on any matter, i have clearly made up my mind to do so, without allowing myself to be influenced by hope of gain or weight of authority. there are many nice people in this world for whose praise or blame i care not a whistle. i don't know and i don't care whether i shall ever be what is called a great man. i will leave my mark somewhere, and it shall be clear and distinct: t.h.h., his mark, and free from the abominable blur of cant, humbug, and self-seeking which surrounds everything in this present world--that is to say, supposing that i am not already unconsciously tainted myself, a result of which i have a morbid dread. i am perhaps overrating myself. you must put me in mind of my better self, as you did in your last letter, when you write. but i must come to the close of my epistle, as i have one to enclose from my mother. my next shall be longer, and i hope i shall then be able to tell you what i am doing. at any rate i hope to be in england for twelve months. i am very much ashamed of myself for not having written to you for so long--open confession is good for the soul, they say, and i will honestly confess that i was half puzzled, half piqued, and altogether sulky at your not having answered my last letter containing my love story, of which i wrote you an account before anybody. you must not suppose my affection was a bit the less because i was half angry. nettie, who knows you well, could tell you otherwise. indeed, now that i know all, i consider myself a great brute, and i will give you leave, if you will but write soon, to scold me as much as you like. all the family are well. my father is the only one who is much altered, and that in mind and strength, not in bodily health, which is very good. my mother has lost her front teeth, but is otherwise just the same amusing, nervous, distressingly active old lady she always was. our cruisers visit new orleans sometimes, and if ever i am on the west india station, who knows, i may take a run up to see you all. kindest love to the children. tell florry that i could not get her the bird with the long tail, but that some day i will send her some pictures of copper-coloured gentlemen with great big wigs and no trousers, and tell her her old uncle loves her very much and never forgets her nor anybody else. god bless you, dearest lizzie. write soon. ever your brother, tom. [thus within a month of landing in england, huxley had secured his footing in the scientific world. he was freed for the time from the more irksome part of his profession; his service in the navy had become a stepping-stone to the pursuits in which his heart really was. he had long been half in despair over the work which he had sent out like the dove from the ark, if haply it might find him some standing ground in the world; no news of it had reached him till he was about to start on his homeward voyage, but he returned to discover that at a single stroke it had placed him in the front rank of naturalists.] north bank, regent's park. january , . my progress [he writes (when not otherwise specified, the extracts in this chapter are from letters to his future wife.)], must necessarily be slow and uncertain. i cannot see two steps forwards. much depends upon myself, much upon circumstances. hitherto all has gone as well as i could wish. i have gained each object that i had set before myself--that is, i have my shore appointment, i have found a means of publishing what i have done creditably, and i have continued to come into communication with some of the first men in england in my department of science. but, as i have found to be the case in all things that are gained, from money to friendship, it is not so much getting as keeping. it is by no means difficult if you are decently introduced, have tolerably agreeable manners, and some smattering of science, to take a position among these folks, but it is a mighty different affair to keep it and turn it to account. not like the man who, at the enchanted castle, had the courage to blow the horn but not to draw the sword, and was consequently shot forth from the mouth of the cave by which he entered with most ignominious haste,--one must be ready to fight immediately after one's arrival has been announced, or be blown into oblivion. i have drawn the sword, but whether i am in truth to beat the giants and deliver my princess from the enchanted castle is yet to be seen. [for several months he lived with his brother george and his wife at north bank, st. john's wood (the house was pulled down in for the great central railway), but the surroundings were too easy, and not conducive to hard work.] i must, i fear, emigrate to some "two pair back," which shall have the feel and manner of a workshop, where i can leave my books about and dissect a marine nastiness if i think fit, sallying forth to meet the world when necessary, and giving it no more time than necessary. if it were not for a fear that p. would take it unkindly i should go at once. i must summon up moral courage somehow (how difficult when it is to pain those we love!) and trust to her good sense for the rest. [and later:--] ...i have been very busy looking about for the last two days, and have been in fifty houses if i have been in one. i want some place with a decent address, cheap, and beyond all things, clean. the dirty holes that some of these lodgings are! such tawdry finery and such servants, with their faces and hands not merely dirty, but absolutely macadamised. and they all make this confounded great exhibition a plea for about doubling the rent. [so in april he removed to lodgings hard by, at hanover place, clarence gate, regent's park] ("which sounds grand, but means nothing more than a sitting-room and bedroom in a small house"), [then to st. anne's gardens, and after that to upper york place, while making a second home with his brother. his other great friends already in london were the fannings, who had left australia a few months before his own return. in the scientific world he soon made acquaintance with most of the leading men, and began a close friendship with edward forbes, with george busk (then surgeon to h.m.s. "dreadnought" at greenwich, afterwards president of the college of surgeons) and his accomplished wife, and later in the year with both hooker and tyndall. the busks, indeed, showed him the greatest kindness throughout this period of struggle, and the sympathy and intellectual stimulus he received from their society were of the utmost help. they were always ready to welcome him at greenwich, and he not only often ran down there for a week-end, but would spend part of his vacations with them at lowestoft or tenby, where naturalists could find plenty of occupation. but from a worldly point of view, it was too soon clear that science was sadly unprofitable. there seemed no speedy prospect of making enough to marry on. as early as march he writes:--] the difficulties of obtaining a decent position in england in anything like a reasonable time seem to me greater than ever they were. to attempt to live by any scientific pursuit is a farce. nothing but what is absolutely practical will go down in england. a man of science may earn great distinction, but not bread. he will get invitations to all sorts of dinners and conversaziones, but not enough income to pay his cab fare. a man of science in these times is like an esau who sells his birthright for a mess of pottage. again, if one turns to practice, it is still the old story--wait; and only after years of working like a galley-slave and intriguing like a courtier is there any chance of getting a decent livelihood. i am not at all sure if...it would be the most prudent thing to stick by the service: there at any rate is certainty in health and in sickness. [nevertheless he was mightily encouraged in the work of bringing out his "rattlesnake" papers by a notable success in a quarter where he scarcely dared to hope for it. the royal society had for some time set itself to become a body of working men of science; to exclude for the future all mere dilettanti, and to admit a limited number of men whose work was such as to deserve recognition. thanks to the initiative of forbes, he now found this recognition accorded to him on the strength of his "medusa" paper. he writes in february:--] the f.r.s. that you tell me you dream of being appended to my name is nearer than one might think, to my no small surprise...i had no idea that it was at all within my reach, until i found out the other day, talking with mr. bell, that my having a paper in the "transactions" was one of the best of qualifications. my friend forbes, to whom i am so much indebted, has taken the matter in hand for me, and i am told i am sure of getting it this year or the next. i do not at all expect it this year, as there are a great many candidates, far better men than i...i shall think myself lucky if i get it next year. don't say anything about the matter till i tell you...as the old proverb says, there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. [there were thirty-eight candidates; of these the council would select fifteen, and submit their names for election at a general meeting of the society. he was not yet twenty-six years of age, and certainly the youngest and least known of the competitors. others probably had been up before--possibly many times before; nevertheless, on this, his first candidature, he was placed among the selected. the formal election did not took place till june , but on a chance visit to forbes he heard the great news. the f.r.s. was a formal attestation of the value of the work he had already done; it was a token of success in the present, an augury of greater success in the future. no wonder the news was exciting.] to-day [he writes on april ] i saw forbes at the museum of practical geology, where i often drop in on him. "well," he said, "i am glad to be able to tell you you are all right for the royal society; the selection was made on friday night, and i hear that you are one of the selected. i have not seen the list, but my authority is so good that you may make yourself easy about it." i confess to having felt a little proud, though i believe i spoke and looked as cool as a cucumber. there were thirty-eight candidates, out of whom only fifteen could be selected, and i fear that they have left behind much better men than i. i shall not feel certain about the matter until i receive some official announcement. i almost wish that until then i had heard nothing about it. notwithstanding all my cucumbery appearance, i will confess to you that i could not sit down and read to-day after the news. i wandered hither and thither restlessly half over london...whether i have it or not, i can say one thing, that i have left my case to stand on its own strength; i have not asked for a single vote, and there are not on my certificate half the names that there might be. if it be mine, it is by no intrigue. [again, on may , ] i am twenty-six to-day...and it reminds me that i have left you now a whole year. it is perfectly frightful to think how the time is slipping by, and yet seems to bring us no nearer. what have i done with my twenty-sixth year? six months were spent at sea, and therefore may be considered as so much lost; and six months i have had in england. that, i may say, has not been thrown away altogether without fruit. i have read a good deal and i have written a good deal. i have made some valuable friends, and have found my work more highly estimated than i had ventured to hope. i must tell you something, because it will please you, even if you think me vain for doing so. i was talking to professor owen yesterday, and said that i imagined i had to thank him in great measure for the honour of the f.r.s. "no," he said, "you have nothing to thank but the goodness of your own work." for about ten minutes i felt rather proud of that speech, and shall keep it by me whenever i feel inclined to think myself a fool, and that i have a most mistaken notion of my own capacities. the only use of honours is as an antidote to such fits of the "blue devils." of one thing, however, which is by no means so agreeable, my opportunities for seeing the scientific world in england force upon me every day a stronger and stronger conviction. it is that there is no chance of living by science. i have been loth to believe it, but it is so. there are not more than four or five offices in london which a zoologist or comparative anatomist can hold and live by. owen, who has a european reputation, second only to that of cuvier, gets as hunterian professor pounds sterling a year! which is less than the salary of many a bank clerk. my friend forbes, who is a highly distinguished and a very able man, gets the same from his office of paleontologist to the geological survey of great britain. now, these are first-rate men--men who have been at work for years laboriously toiling upward--men whose abilities, had they turned them into the many channels of money-making, must have made large fortunes. but the beauty of nature and the pursuit of truth allured them into a nobler life--and this is the result...in literature a man may write for magazines and reviews, and so support himself; but not so in science. i could get anything i write into any of the journals or any of the transactions, but i know no means of thereby earning five shillings. a man who chooses a life of science chooses not a life of poverty, but, so far as i can see, a life of nothing, and the art of living upon nothing at all has yet to be discovered. you will naturally think, then, "why persevere in so hopeless a course?" at present i cannot help myself. for my own credit, for the sake of gratifying those who have hitherto helped me on--nay, for the sake of truth and science itself, i must work out fairly and fully complete what i have begun. and when that is done, i will courageously and cheerfully turn my back upon all my old aspirations. the world is wide, and there is everywhere room for honesty of purpose and earnest endeavour. had i failed in attaining my wishes from an overweening self-confidence,--had i found that the obstacles after all lay within myself--i should have bitterly despised myself, and, worst of all, i should have felt that you had just ground of complaint. so far as the acknowledgment of the value of what i have done is concerned, i have succeeded beyond my expectations, and if i have failed on the other side of the question, i cannot blame myself. it is the world's fault and not mine. [a few months more, and he was able to report another and still more unexpected testimony to the value of his work--another encouragement to persevere in the difficult pursuit of a scientific life. he found himself treated as an equal by men of established reputation; and the first-fruits of his work ranked on a level with the maturer efforts of veterans in science. he was within an ace of receiving the royal medal, which was awarded him the following year. of this, he writes:--] november , . i have at last tasted what it is to mingle with my fellows--to take my place in that society for which nature has fitted me, and whether the draught has been a poison which has heated my veins or true nectar from the gods, life-giving, i know not, but i can no longer rest where i once could have rested. if i could find within myself that mere personal ambition, the desire of fame, present or posthumous, had anything to do with this restlessness, i would root it out. but in those moments of self-questioning, when one does not lie even to oneself, i feel that i can say it is not so--that the real pleasure, the true sphere, lies in the feeling of self-development--in the sense of power and of growing oneness with the great spirit of abstract truth. do you understand this? i know you do; our old oneness of feeling will not desert us here... to-day a most unexpected occurrence came to my knowledge. i must tell you that the queen places at the disposal of the royal society once a year a valuable gold medal to be given to the author of the best paper upon either a physical, chemical, or anatomical or physiological subject. one of these branches of science is chosen by the royal society for each year, and therefore for any given subject--say anatomy and physiology; it becomes a triennial prize, and is given to the best memoir in the "transactions" for three years. it happens that the royal medal, as it is called, is this year given in anatomy and physiology. i had no idea that i had the least chance of getting it, and made no effort to do so. but i heard this morning from a member of the council that the award was made yesterday, and that i was within an ace of getting it. newport, a man of high standing in the scientific world, and myself were the two between whom the choice rested, and eventually it was given to him, on account of his having a greater bulk of matter in his papers, so evenly did the balance swing. had i only had the least idea that i should be selected they should have had enough and to spare from me. however, i do not grudge newport his medal; he is a good sort and a worthy competitor, old enough to be my father, and has long had a high reputation. except for its practical value as a means of getting a position i care little enough for the medal. what i do care for is the justification which the being marked in this position gives to the course i have taken. obstinate and self-willed as i am...there are times when grave doubts overshadow my mind, and then such testimony as this restores my self-confidence. to let you know the full force of what i have been saying, i must tell you that this "royal medal" is what such men as owen and faraday are glad to get, and is indeed one of the highest honours in england. to-day i had the great pleasure of meeting my old friend sir john richardson (to whom i was mainly indebted for my appointment in the "rattlesnake"). since i left england he has married a third wife, and has taken a hand in joining in search of franklin (which was more dreadful?), like an old hero as he is; but not a feather of him is altered, and he is as grey, as really kind, and as seemingly abrupt and grim, as ever he was. such a fine old polar bear! chapter . . - . [the course pursued by the government in the matter of huxley's papers is curious and instructive. the admiralty minute of had promised either money assistance for publishing or speedy promotion as an encouragement to scientific research in the navy, especially by the medical officers. on leave to publish the scientific results of the expedition being asked for, the department forestalled any request for monetary aid by an intimation that none would be given. strong representations, however, from the leading scientific authorities induced them to grant the appointment to the "fisguard" for six months. the sequel shows how the departmental representatives of science did their best for science in huxley's case, so far as in their power lay:--] june , . the other day i received an intimation that my presence was required at somerset house. i rather expected the mandate, as six months' leave was up. sir william was very civil, and told me that the commander of the "fisguard" had applied to the admiralty to know what was to be done with me, as my leave had expired. "now," said he, "go to forest" (his secretary), "write a letter to me, stating what you want, and i will get it done for you." so away i went and applied for an indefinite amount of leave, on condition of reporting the progress of my work every six months, and as i suppose i shall get it, i feel quite easy on that head. [in may he applied to the royal society for help from the government grant towards publishing the bulk of his work as a whole, for much of its value would be lost if scattered fragmentarily among the transactions of various learned societies. personally, the members of the committee were very willing to make the grant, but on further consideration it appeared that the money was to be applied for promoting research, not for assisting publication; and moreover, it was desirable not to establish a precedent for saddling the funds at the disposal of the society with all the publications which it was the clear duty of the government to undertake. on this ground the application was refused, but at the same time it was resolved that the government be formally asked to give the necessary subvention towards bringing out these valuable papers. a similar resolution was passed at the ipswich meeting of the british association in july , and at a meeting of its council in march the president declared himself ready to carry it into effect by asking the treasury for the needful pounds sterling. but at the july meeting he could only report a non possumus answer for the current year ( ) from the government, and a resolution was passed recommending that application on the subject be renewed by the british association in the following year. meanwhile, weary of official delay, huxley had conceived the idea of writing direct to the duke of northumberland, then first lord of the admiralty, whom he knew to take an interest in scientific research. at the same time he stirred lord rosse, the president of the royal society, to repeat his application to the treasury. although the admiralty in april again refused money help, and bade him apply to the royal society for a portion of the government grant (which the latter had already refused him), the hydrographer was directed to make inquiries as to the propriety of granting him an extension of leave. to his question asking the exact amount of time still required for finishing the work of publication, huxley returned what he described as a "savage reply," that his experience of engravers led him to think that the plates could be published in eight or nine months from the receipt of a grant; that he had reason to believe this grant might soon be promised, but that the long delay was solely due to the remissness of those whose duty it was to represent his claims to the government; and finally, that he must ask for a year's extension of leave. for these expressions his conscience smote him when, on june , at a soiree of the royal society, lord rosse took him aside and informed him that he had seen sir c. trevelyan, the under secretary to the treasury, who said there would be no difficulty in the matter if it were properly laid before the prime minister, lord derby. to lord derby therefore he went, and was told that mr. huxley should go to the treasury and arrange matters in person with trevelyan. at the same time the indignant tone of his letter to the hydrographer seemed to have done good; he was invited to explain matters in person, and was granted the leave he asked for. everything now seemed to point to a speedy solution of his difficulties. the promise of a grant, of course, did nothing immediate, but assured him a good position, and settled all the scruples of the admiralty with regard to time.] "you have no notion," [he writes,]" of the trouble the grant has cost me. it died a natural death till i wrote to the duke in march, and brought it to life again. the more opposition there is, the more determined i am to carry it through." [but he was doomed to a worse disappointment than before. trevelyan received him very civilly, but had heard nothing on the matter from lord derby, and accordingly sent him in charge of his private secretary to see lord derby's secretary. the latter had seen no papers relating to any such matter, and supposed lord derby had not brought them from st. james' square, "but promised to write to me as soon as anything was learnt. i look upon it as adjourned sine die." parliament breaking up immediately after gave the officials a good excuse for doing nothing more. when his year's leave expired in june , he wrote the following letter to sir william burnett:--] as the period of my leave of absence from h.m.s. "fisguard" is about to expire, i have the honour to report that the duty on which i have been engaged has been carried out, as far as my means permit, by the publication of a "memoir upon the homologies of the cephalous mollusca," with four plates, which appeared in the "philosophical transactions" for (published ), being the fourth memoir resulting from the observations made during the voyage of h.m.s. "rattlesnake" which has appeared in these "transactions." i have the pleasure of being able to add that the president and council of the royal society have considered these memoirs worthy of being rewarded by the royal medal in physiology for , which they did me the honour to confer in the november of that year. i regret that no definite answer of any kind having as yet been given to the strong representations which were made by the presidents both of the royal society and of the british association in to h.m. government--representations which have recently been earnestly repeated--in order to obtain a grant for the purpose of publishing the remainder of these researches in a separate form, i have been unable to proceed any further, and i beg to request a renewal of my leave of absence from h.m.s. "fisguard," so that if h.m. government think fit to give the grant applied for, it may be in my power to make use of it; or that, should it be denied, i may be enabled to find some other means of preventing the total loss of the labour of some years. [hereupon he was allowed six months longer, but with the intimation that no further leave would be granted. a final application from the scientific authorities resulted in fresh inquiries as to the length of time still required, and the deadlock between the two departments of state being unchanged, he replied to the same effect as before, but to no purpose. his formal application for leave in january was met by orders to join the "illustrious" at portsmouth. he appealed to the admiralty that this appointment might be cancelled, giving a brief summary of the facts, and pointing out that it was the inaction of the treasury which had absolutely prevented him from completing his work.] i would therefore respectfully submit that, under these circumstances, my request to be permitted to remain on half-pay until the completion of the publication of the results of some years' toil is not wholly unreasonable. it is the only reward for which i would ask their lordships, and indeed, considering the distinct pledge given in the minute to which i have referred, to grant it would seem as nearly to concern their lordships' honour as my advantage. [the counter to this bold stroke was crushing, if not convincing. he was ordered to join his ship immediately under pain of being struck off the navy list. he was of course prepared for this ultimatum, and whether he could manage to pursue science in england or might be compelled to set up as a doctor in sydney, he considered that he would be better off than as an assistant surgeon in the navy. accordingly he stood firm, and the threat was carried into effect in march . an unexpected consequence followed. as long as he was in the navy, with direct claims upon a government department for assistance in publishing his work, the royal society had not felt justified in allotting him any part of the government grant. but now that he had left the service, this objection was removed, and in june the sum of pounds sterling was assigned for this purpose, while the remainder of the expense was borne by the ray society, which undertook the publication under the title of "oceanic hydrozoa." thus he was able to record with some satisfaction how he at last has got the grant, though indirectly, from the government, and considers it something of a triumph for the principle of the family motto, tenax propositi. while these fruitless negotiations with the admiralty were in progress, he had done a good deal, both in publishing what he could of his "rattlesnake" work, and in trying to secure some scientific appointment which would enable him to carry out his two chief objects: the one his marriage, the other the unhampered pursuit of science. in addition to the papers sent home from the cruise--one on the medusae, published in the "philosophical transactions of the royal society" for , and one on the animal of trigonia, published in the "proceedings of the zoological society" for the same year--he had reported to the admiralty in june the publication of seven memoirs:-- . on the auditory organs of the crustacea. published in the "annals of natural history." . on the anatomy of the genus tethea. published in the "annals of natural history." . report upon the development of the echinoderms. to appear in the "annals" for july. . on the anatomy and physiology of the salpae, with four plates. read at the royal society, and to be published in the next part of the "philosophical transactions." . on two genera of ascidians, doliolum and appendicularia, with one plate. read at the royal society, and to be published in the next part of the "philosophical transactions." . on some peculiarities in the circulation of the mollusca. sent to m. milne-edwards, at his request, to be published in the "annales des sciences." . on the generative organs of the physophoridae and diphydae. sent to professor muller of berlin for publication in his "archiv." by the end of the year he had four more to report:-- . on the hydrostatic acalephae; . on the genus sagitta, both published in the "report of the british association" for ; . on lacinularia socialis, a contribution to the anatomy and physiology of the rotifera, in the "transactions of the microscopical society" . on thalassicolla, a new zoophyte, in the "annals of natural history." next year he read before the british association a paper entitled "researches into the structure of the ascidians," and a very important one on the morphology of the cephalous mollusca, afterwards published in the "philosophical transactions." in addition he had prepared a great part of his longer work for publication; out of twenty-four or twenty-five plates, nineteen were ready for the engraver when he wrote his appeal to the duke of northumberland. in this same year, , he was also awarded the royal medal in physiology for the value of his contributions to the "philosophical transactions." in , besides seeing some of these papers through the press, he published one on the existence of cellulose in the tunic of ascidians, read before the microscopical society, and two papers on the structure of the teeth; the latter, of course, like a paper of the previous year on echinococcus, being distinct from the "rattlesnake" work. the greater work on oceanic hydrozoa, over which the battle of the grant in aid had been waged so long, did not see the light until , when his interest had been diverted from these subjects, and to return to them was more a burden than a pleasure. in the second place, the years - , so full of profitless successes in pure science, and delusive hopes held out by the government, were marked by an equally unsuccessful series of attempts to obtain a professorship. if a chair of natural history had been established, as he hoped, in the projected university at sydney, he would gladly have stood for it. sydney was a second home to him; he would have been backed by the great influence of macleay; and in his eyes a naturalist could not desire a finer field for his labours than the waters of port jackson. but this was not to be, and the first chair he tried for was the newly-instituted chair of zoology at the university of toronto. the vacancy was advertised in the summer of ; the pay of full pounds sterling a year was enough to marry on; his friends reassured him as to his capacity to fill the post, which, moreover, did not debar him from the hope of returning some day to fill a similar post in england.] edward street, st. john's wood terrace, july [ ]. my dear henfrey, i have been detained in town, or i hope we should long since have had our projected excursion. what do you think of my looking out for a professorship of natural history at toronto? pay pounds sterling, with chances of extra fees. i think that out there one might live comfortably upon that sum--possibly even do the domestic and cultivate the loves and graces as well as the muses. seriously, however, i should like to know what you think of it. the choice of getting anything over here without devoting one's self wholly to mammon, seems to me very small. at least it involves years of waiting. toronto is not very much out of the way, and the pay is decent and would enable me to devote myself wholly to my favourite pursuits. were it in england, i could wish nothing better; and, as it is, i think it would answer my purpose very well for some years at any rate. if they go fairly to work i think i shall have a very good chance of being elected; but i am told that these matters are often determined by petty intrigues. francis and i looked for you everywhere at the botanic gardens, and finding you were too wise to come, came here, grieving your absence, and had an aesthetic "bier." [(dr. william francis, one of the editors of the "philosophical magazine," and a member of the publishing firm of taylor and francis.) he obtained a remarkably strong set of testimonials from all the leading anatomists and physiologists in the kingdom, as well as one from milne-edwards in paris. i have put together [he writes] twelve or fourteen testimonials from the first men. i will have no other. [his newly-obtained f.r.s. was a recommendation in itself. so that he writes:--] there are, i learn, several other candidates, but no one i fear at all, if they only have fair play. there is no one of the others who can command anything like the scientific influence which is being exercised for me, whatever private influence they may have. what makes all the big-wigs so marvellously zealous on my behalf i know not. i have sought none of them and flattered none of them, that i can say with a good conscience, and i think you know me well enough to believe it. i feel very grateful to them; and if it ever happens that i am able to help a young man on (when i am a big-wig myself!) i shall remember it. [and again, september , :--] when i have once sent away my testimonials and done all that is to be done, i shall banish the subject from my mind and make myself quite easy as to results. for the present i confess to being somewhat anxious. [nevertheless, after many postponements, a near relative of an influential canadian politician was at length appointed late in . by an amusing coincidence, huxley's newly-made friend, tyndall, was likewise a candidate for a chair at toronto, and likewise rejected. two letters, concerning tyndall's election to the royal society, contain references both to toronto and to sydney.] upper york place, st. john's wood december [ ]. my dear sir, i was greatly rejoiced to find i could be of service to you in any way, and i only regret, for your sake, that my name is not a more weighty one. your election, i should think, can be a matter of no doubt. as to toronto, i confess i am not very anxious about it. sydney would have been far more to my taste, and i confess i envy you what, as i hear, is the very good chance you have of going there. it used to be our headquarters in the "rattlesnake" and my home for three months in the year. should you go, i should be very happy, if you like, to give you letters to some of my friends. greatly as i wish we had been destined to do our work together, i cannot but offer you the most hearty wishes for your success in sydney. ever yours very faithfully, thomas h. huxley. john tyndall, esq. north bank, regent's park, may , . my dear tyndall, allow me to be one of the first to have the pleasure of congratulating you on your new honours. i had the satisfaction last night to hear your name read out as one of the selected of the council of the royal society for election to the fellowship this year, and you are therefore as good as elected. i always made sure of your success, but i am not the less pleased that it is now a fait accompli. i am, my dear tyndall, faithfully yours, t.h. huxley. p.s.--i have heard nothing of toronto, and i begin to think that the whole affair, university and all, is a myth. [his hopes of the colonies failing, he tried each of the divisions of the united kingdom in turn, with uniform ill-success; in - at aberdeen and at cork; in at king's college, london. he had great hopes of aberdeen at first; the appointment lay with the home secretary, a personal friend of sir j. clark, who was interested in huxley though not personally acquainted with him. but no sooner had he written to urge the latter's claims than a change of ministry took place, and other influences commanded the field. it was cold comfort that clark told him only to wait--something must turn up. there was still a great probability of the toronto chair falling to a cork professor; so with this in view, he gave up a trip to chamounix with his brother, and attended the meeting of the british association at belfast in august , in order to make himself known to the irish men of science, for, as his friends told him, personal influence went for so much, and while most men's reputations were better than themselves, he might flatter himself that he was better than his reputation. but this, too, came to nothing, and the king's college appointment also went to the candidate who was backed by the most powerful influence. a fatality seemed to dog his efforts; nevertheless he writes at the end of :--] among my scientific friends the monition i get on all sides is that of dante's great ancestor to him-- a te sequi la tua stella. if this were from personal friends only, i should disregard it; but it comes from men to whose approbation it would be foolish affectation to deny the highest value. i find myself treated on a footing of equality ("my proud self," as you may suppose, would not put up with any other) by men whose names and works have been long before the world. my opinions are treated with a respect altogether unaccountable to me, and what i have done is quoted as having full authority. without canvassing a soul or making use of any influence, i have been elected into the royal society at a time when that election is more difficult than it has ever been in the history of the society. without my knowledge i was within an ace of getting the royal society medal this year, and if i go on i shall very probably get it next time. [in he was not only to receive this coveted honour (see chapter .), but also to be elected upon the royal society council. in january , when standing for toronto, he describes how colonel sabine, then secretary of the royal society, dissuaded him from the project, saying that a brilliant prospect lay before him if he would only wait.] "make up your mind to get something fairly within your reach, and you will have us all with you." professor owen again offers to do anything in his power for me; professor forbes will move heaven and earth for me if he can; gray, bell, and all the leading men are, i know, similarly inclined. fate says wait, and you shall reach the goal which from a child you have set before yourself. on the other hand, a small voice like conscience speaks of one who is wasting youth and life away for your sake. [other friends, who, while recognising his general capacities, were not scientific, and had no direct appreciation of his superlative powers in science, thought he was following a course which would never allow him to marry, and urged him to give up his unequal battle with fate, and emigrate to australia. of this he writes on august , , to miss heathorn:--] i must make up my mind to it if nothing turns up. however, i look upon such a life as would await me in australia with great misgiving. a life spent in a routine employment, with no excitement and no occupation for the higher powers of the intellect, with its great aspirations stifled and all the great problems of existence set hopelessly in the background, offers to me a prospect that would be utterly intolerable but for your love...sometimes i am half mad with the notion of bringing all my powers in a surer struggle for a livelihood. sometimes i am equally wild at thinking of the long weary while that has passed since we met. there are times when i cannot bear to think of leaving my present pursuits, when i feel i should be guilty of a piece of cowardly desertion from my duty in doing it, and there come intervals when i would give truth and science and all hopes to be folded in your arms...i know which course is right, but i never know which i may follow; help me...for there is only one course in which there is either hope or peace for me. [these repeated disappointments deepened the fits of depression which constantly assailed him. he was torn by two opposing thoughts. was it just, was it right, to demand so great a sacrifice from the woman who had entrusted her future to the uncertain chances of his fortunes? could he ask her to go on offering up the best years of her life to aspirations of his which were possibly chimerical, or perhaps merely selfishness in disguise, which ought to yield to more imperative duties? why not clip the wings of pegasus, and descend to the sober, everyday jog-trot after plain bread and cheese like other plain people? time after time he almost made up his mind to throw science to the winds; to emigrate and establish a practice in sydney; to try even squatting or storekeeping. and yet he knew only too well that with his temperament no life would bring him the remotest approach to lasting happiness and satisfaction except one that gave scope to his intellectual passion. to yield to the immediate pressure of circumstances was perhaps ignoble, was even more probably a surer road to the loss of happiness for himself and for his wife than the repeated and painful sacrifices of the present. with all this, however, and the more when assured of her entire confidence in his judgment, he could not but feel a sense of remorse that she willingly accepted the sacrifice, and feared that she might have done so rather to gratify his wishes than because reason approved it as the right course to follow. here is another typical extract from his correspondence. hearing that toronto is likely to go to a relative of a canadian minister, he writes, january , :--] i think of all my dreams and aspirations, and of the path which i know lies before me if i can only bide my time, and it seems a sin and a shameful thing to allow my resolve to be turned; and then comes the mocking suspicion, is this fine abstract duty of yours anything but a subtlety of your own selfishness? have you not other more imperative duties? you may fancy whether my life is a very happy one thus spent without even the satisfaction of the sense of right-doing. i must come to some resolution about it, and that shortly. i was talking seriously with fanning the other night about the possibility of finding some employment of a profitable kind in australia, storekeeping, squatting, or the like. as i told him, any change in my mode of life must be total. if i am to change at all, the change must be total and complete. i will not attempt my own profession. i should only be led astray to think and to work as of old, and sigh continually for my old dear and intoxicating pursuits. i wish i understood brewing, and i would make a proposition to come and help your father. you may smile, but i am as serious as ever i was in my life. [the distance between them made it doubly difficult to keep in touch with one another, when the post took from four and a half to five or even six months to reach england from australia. the answer to a letter would come when the matter in question was long done with. the assurance that he was doing right at one moment seemed inadequate when circumstances had altered and hope sunk lower. it was all too easy to suspect that she did not understand his aims, his thirst for action, nor the fact that he was no longer free to do as he liked, whether to stay in the navy, to go into practice, or follow his own pursuits and pleasure. yet it made him despair to be so hedged in by circumstances. with all his efforts, he seemed as though he had done nothing but earn the reputation of being a very promising young man. how much easier to continue the struggle if he could but have seen her face to face, and read her thoughts as to whether he were right or wrong in the course he was pursuing. he appeals to her faith that he is choosing the nobler path in pursuing knowledge, than in turning aside to the temptation of throwing it up for the sake of their speedier union. still she was right in claiming a share in his work; but for her his life would have been wasted. the clouds gathered very thickly about him when in april his mother died, while his father was hopelessly ill.] "belief and happiness," [he writes,] "seem to be beyond the reach of thinking men in these days, but courage and silence are left." [again the clouds lifted, for in october he received miss heathorn's] "noble and self-sacrificing letter, which has given me more comfort than anything for a long while," [the keynote of which was that a man should pursue those things for which he is most fitted, let them be what they will. he now felt free to tell the vicissitudes of thought and will he had passed through this twelvemonth, and how the idea of giving up all had affected him.] "the spectre of a wasted life has passed before me--a vision of that servant who hid his talent in a napkin and buried it." [early in he writes how much he was cheered by his sister's advice and encouragement to persist in the struggle; but the darkest moment was still to come. his hopes from his candidature crumbled away one after the other; his leave from the admiralty was coming to an end, and there was small hope of renewing it; the grant from government remained as unattainable as ever; the long struggle had taught him the full extent of his powers only, it seemed, to end by denying him all opportunity for their use.] and so the card house i have been so laboriously building up these two years with all manner of hard struggling will be tumbled down again, and my small light will be ignominiously snuffed out like that of better men...i can submit if the fates are too strong. the world is no better than an arena of gladiators, and i, a stray savage, have been turned into it to fight my way with my rude club among the steel-clad fighters. well, i have won my way into the front rank, and ought to be thankful and deem it only the natural order of things if i can get no further. [and again in a letter of july , :--] i know that these three years have inconceivably altered me--that from being an idle man, only too happy to flow into the humours of the moment, i have become almost unable to exist without active intellectual excitement. i know that in this i find peace and rest such as i can attain in no other way. from being a mere untried fledgling, doubtful whether the wish to fly proceeded from mere presumption or from budding wings, i have now some confidence in well-tried pinions, which have given me rank among the strongest and foremost. i have always felt how difficult it was for you to realise all this--how strange it must be to you that though your image remained as bright as ever, new interests and purposes had ranged themselves around it, and though they could claim no pre-eminence, yet demanded their share of my thoughts. i make no apology for this--it is man's nature and the necessary influence of circumstances which will so have it; and depend, however painful our present separation may be, the spectacle of a man who had given up the cherished purpose of his life, the esau who had sold his birthright for a mess of pottage and with it his self-respect, would before long years were over our heads be infinitely more painful. depend upon it, the trust which you placed in my hands when i left you--to choose for both of us--has not been abused. hemmed in by all sorts of difficulties, my choice was a narrow one, and i was guided more by circumstances than my own free will. nevertheless the path has shown itself to be a fair one, neither more difficult nor less so than most paths in life in which a man of energy may hope to do much if he believes in himself, and is at peace within. my course in life is taken. i will not leave london--i will make myself a name and a position as well as an income by some kind of pursuit connected with science, which is the thing for which nature has fitted me if she has ever fitted any one for anything. bethink yourself whether you can cast aside all repining and all doubt, and devote yourself in patience and trust to helping me along my path as no one else could. i know what i ask, and the sacrifice i demand, and if this were the time to use false modesty, i should say how little i have to offer in return... i am full of faults, but i am real and true, and the whole devotion of an earnest soul cannot be overprized. ...it is as if all that old life at holmwood had merely been a preparation for the real life of our love--as if we were then children ignorant of life's real purpose--as if these last months had merely been my old doubts over again, whether i had rightly or wrongly interpreted the manner and the words that had given me hope... we will begin the new love of woman and man, no longer that of boy and girl, conscious that we have aims and purposes as well as affections, and that if love is sweet life is dreadfully stern and earnest. [as time went on and no permanency offered--although a good deal of writing fell in his way--the strain told heavily upon him. in the autumn he was quite out of sorts, body and mind, more at war with himself than he ever was in his life before. all this, he writes, had darkened his thoughts, had made him once more imagine a hopeless discrepancy between the two of them in their ways of thinking and objects in life. it was not till november that this depression was banished by the trust and confidence of her last letter.] "i wish to heaven," [he writes,] "it had reached me six months ago. it would have saved me a world of pain and error." [but with this, the worst period of mental suffering was over, and every haunting doubt was finally exorcised. his career was made possible by the steady faith which neither separation nor any misgiving nor its own troubles could shake. and from this point all things began to brighten. his health had been restored by a trip to the pyrenees with his brother george in september. he had got work that enabled him to regard the admiralty and its menaces with complete equanimity; a "manual of comparative anatomy," for churchhill the publisher, regular work on the "westminster," and another book in prospect,] "so that if i quit the service to-morrow, these will give me more than my pay has been." [(this regular work was the article on contemporary science, which in october he got tyndall to share with him. for, he writes,] "to give some account of the books in one's own department is no particular trouble, and comes with me under the head of being paid for what i must, in any case, do--but i neither will, nor can, go on writing about books in other departments, of which i am not competent to form a judgment even if i had the time to give to them.") [and on december he writes how he has been restored and revived by reading over her last two letters, and confesses,] "i have been unjust to the depth and strength of your devotion, but will never do so again." [then he tells all he had gone through before leaving england in september for his holiday--how he had resolved to abandon all his special pursuits and take up chemistry, for practical purposes, when first one publisher and then another asked him to write for them, and hopes were held out to him of being appointed to deliver the fullerian lectures at the royal institution for the next three years; while, most important of all, edward forbes was likely before long, to leave his post at the museum of practical geology, and he had already been spoken to by the authorities about filling it. this was worth some pounds sterling a year, while he calculated to make about pounds sterling by his pen alone.] "therefore it would be absurd to go hunting for chemical birds in the bush when i have such in the hand." chapter . . - . [several letters dating from to help to fill up the outlines of huxley's life during those three years of struggle. there is a description of the british association meeting at ipswich in ] ("forbes advises me to go down to the meeting of the british association this year and make myself notorious somehow or other. thank heaven i have impudence enough to lecture the savans of europe if necessary. can you imagine me holding forth?" [june , .]), with the traditional touch of gaiety to enliven the gravity of its proceedings, and the unconventional jollity of the red lion club (a dining-club of members of the association), whose palmy days were those under the inspiration of the genial and gifted forbes. this was the meeting at which huxley first began his alliance with tyndall, with whom he travelled down from town, although he does not mention his name in this letter. with hooker he had already made acquaintance; and from this time forwards the three were closely bound together by personal regard as well as by similarity of aims and interests. then follow his sketch of the english scientific world as he found it in , given in his letter to w. macleay; several letters to his sister; the description of his first lecture at the royal institution, which, though successful on the whole, was very different in manner and delivery from the clear and even flow of his later style, with the voice not loud but distinct, the utterance never hurried beyond the point of immediate comprehension, but carrying the attention of the audience with it, eager to the end. two letters of warning and remonstrance against the habits of lecturing in a colloquial tone, suitable to a knot of students gathered round his table, but not to a large audience--of running his words, especially technical terms, together--of pouring out new and unfamiliar matter at breakneck speed, were addressed to him--one by a "working man" of his monday evening audience at jermyn street in , the other, undated, by mr. jodrell, a frequenter of the royal institution, and afterwards founder of the jodrell lectureships at university college, london, and other benefactions to science, and these he kept by him as a perpetual reminder, labelled "good advice." how much can be done by the frank acceptance of criticism and by careful practice is shown by the difference between the feelings of the later audiences who flocked to his lectures, and those of the members of an institute in st. john's wood, who, as he often used to tell, after hearing him in his early days, petitioned "not to have that young man again."] july , . the interval between my letters has been a little longer than usual, as i have been very busy attending the meeting of the british association at ipswich. the last time i attended one was at southampton five years ago, when i went merely as a spectator, and looked at the people who read papers as if they were somebodies. (see chapter , ad fin.) this time i have been behind the scenes myself and have played out my little part on the boards. i know all about the scenery and decorations, and no longer think the manager a wizard. any one who conceives that i went down from any especial interest in the progress of science makes a great mistake. my journey was altogether a matter of policy, partly for the purpose of doing a little necessary trumpeting, and partly to get the assistance of the association in influencing the government. on the journey down, my opposite in the railway carriage turned out to be sir james ross, the antarctic discoverer. we had some very pleasant talk together. i knew all about him, as dayman (one of the lieutenants of the "rattlesnake") had sailed under his command; oddly enough we afterwards went to lodge at the same house, but as we were attending our respective sections all day we did not see much of one another. when we arrived at ipswich there was a good deal of trouble about getting lodgings. my companions located themselves about a mile out of the town, but that was too far for my "indolent habits"; i sought and at last found a room in the town a little bigger than my cabin on board ship for which i had the satisfaction of paying shillings a week. you know what the british association is. it is a meeting of the savans of england and the continent, under the presidency of some big-wig or other,--this year of the astronomer-royal,--for the purpose of exchanging information. to this end they arrange themselves into different sections, each with its own president and committee, and indicated by letters. for instance, section a is for mathematics and physics; section b for chemistry, etc.; my own section, that of natural history, was d, under the presidency of professor henslow of cambridge. i was on the committee, and therefore saw the working of the whole affair. on the first day there was a dearth of matter in our section. people had not arrived with their papers. so by way of finding out whether i could speak in public or not, i got up and talked to them for about twenty minutes. i was considerably surprised to find that when once i had made the plunge, my tongue went glibly enough. on the following day i read a long paper, which i had prepared and illustrated with a lot of big diagrams, to an audience of about twenty people! the rest were all away after prince albert, who had been unfortunately induced to visit the meeting, and fairly turned the heads of the good people of ipswich. on saturday a very pleasant excursion on scientific pretences, but in fact a most jolly and unscientific picnic, took place. several hundred people went down the orwell in a steamer. the majority returned, but i and two others, considering sunday in ipswich an impossibility, stopped at a little seaside village, felixstowe, and idled away our time there very pleasantly. babington the botanist and myself walked into ipswich on sunday night. it is about eleven miles, and we did it comfortably in two hours and three quarters, which was not bad walking. on monday at section d again. forbes brought forward the subject of my application to government in committee, and it was unanimously agreed to forward a resolution on the subject to the committee of recommendations. i made a speechification of some length in the section about a new animal. on thursday morning i attended a meeting of the ray society, and to my infinite astonishment, the secretary, dr. lankester, gave me the second motion to make. the prince of casino moved the first, so i was in good company. the great absurdity of it was that not being a member of the society i had properly no right to speak at all. however, it was only a vote of thanks, and i got up and did the "neat and appropriate" in style. after this a party of us went out dredging in the orwell in a small boat. we were away all day, and it rained hard coming back, so that i got wet through, and had to pull five miles to keep off my enemy, the rheumatics. then came the president's dinner, to which i did not go, as i preferred making myself comfortable with a few friends elsewhere. and after that, the final evening meeting, when all the final determinations are announced. among them i had the satisfaction to hear that it was resolved--that the president and council of the british association should co-operate with the royal society in representing the value and importance, etc., of mr. t.h. huxley's zoological researches to her majesty's government for the purpose of obtaining a grant towards their publication. subsequently i was introduced to colonel sabine, the president of the association in , and a man of very high standing and considerable influence. he had previously been civil enough to sign my certificate at the royal society, unsolicited, and therefore knew me by reputation--i only mean that as a very small word. he was very civil and promised me every assistance in his power. it is a curious thing that of the four applications to government to be made by the association, two were for naval assistant-surgeons, namely one for dr. hooker, who had just returned from the himalaya mountains, and one for me. how i envied hooker; he has long been engaged to a daughter of professor henslow's, and at this very meeting he sat by her side. he is going to be married in a day or two. his father is director of the kew gardens, and there is little doubt of his succeeding him. whether the government accede to the demand that will be made upon them or not, i can now rest satisfied that no means of influencing them has been left unused by me. if they will not listen to the conjoint recommendations of the royal society and the british association, they will listen to nothing... july , . i went yesterday to dine with colonel sabine. we had a long discourse about the prospects and probable means of existence of young men trying to make their way to an existence in the scientific world. i took, as indeed what i have seen has forced me to take, rather the despairing side of the question, and said that as it seemed to me england did not afford even the means of existence to young men who were willing to devote themselves to science. however, he spoke cheeringly, and advised me by no means to be hasty, but to wait, and he doubted not that i should succeed. he cited his own case as an instance of waiting, eventually successful. altogether i felt the better for what he said... there has been a notice of me in the "literary gazette" for last week, much more laudatory than i deserve, from the pen of my friend forbes. [an appreciation of his papers on the physophoridae and sagitta, speaking highly both of his observations and philosophic power, in the report of the proceedings in section d.] in the same number is a rich song from the same fertile and versatile pen, which was sung at one of our red lion meetings. that is why i want you to look at it, not that you will understand it, because it is full of allusions to occurrences known only in the scientific circles. at ipswich we had a grand red lion meeting; about forty members were present, and among them some of the most distinguished members of the association. some foreigners were invited (the prince of casino, buonaparte's nephew, among others), and were not a little astonished to see the grave professors, whose english solemnity and gravity they had doubtless commented on elsewhere, giving themselves up to all sorts of fun. among the red lions we have a custom (instead of cheering) of waving and wagging one coat-tail (one lion's tail) when we applaud. this seemed to strike the prince's fancy amazingly, and when he got up to return thanks for his health being drunk, he told us that as he was rather out of practice in speaking english, he would return thanks in our fashion, and therewith he gave three mighty roars and wags, to the no small amusement of every one. he is singularly like the portraits of his uncle, and seems a very jolly, good-humoured old fellow. i believe, however, he is a bit of a rip. it was remarkable how proud the quakers were of being noticed by him. to w. macleay, of sydney. north bank, regent's park, november , . my dear sir, it is a year to-day since the old "rattlesnake" was paid off, and that reminds me among other things that i have hardly kept my promise of giving you information now and then upon the state of matters scientific in england. my last letter is, i am afraid, nine or ten months old, but here in england the fighting and scratching to keep your place in the crowd exclude almost all other thoughts. when i last wrote i was but at the edge of the crush at the pit-door of this great fools' theatre--now i have worked my way into it and through it, and am, i hope, not far from the check-takers. i have learnt a good deal in my passage. [follows an account of his efforts to get his papers published--substantially a repetition of what has already been given.] rumours there are scattered abroad of a favourable cast, and i am told on all hands that something will certainly be done. i only asked for pounds sterling, something less than the cost of a parliamentary blue-book which nobody ever hears of. they take care to obliterate any spark of gratitude that might perchance arise for what they do, by keeping one so long in suspense that the result becomes almost a matter of indifference. had i known they would keep me so long, i would have published my work as a series of papers in the "philosophical transactions." in the meanwhile i have not been idle, as i hope to show you by the various papers enclosed with this. you will recollect that on the salpae. no one here knew anything about them, and i thought that all my results were absolutely new--until, me miserum! i found them in a little paper of krohn's in the "annales des sciences" for , without any figures to draw anybody's attention. the memoir on the medusae (which i sent to you) has, i hear, just escaped a high honour--to wit, the royal medal. the award has been made to newport for his paper on "impregnation." i had no idea that anything i had done was likely to have the slightest claim to such distinction, but i was informed yesterday by one of the council that the balance hung pretty evenly, and was only decided by their thinking my memoir was too small and short. i have been working in all things with a reference to wide views of zoological philosophy, and the report upon the echinoderms is intended in common with the mem. on the salpae to explain my views of individuality among the lower animals--views which i mean to illustrate still further and enunciate still more clearly in my book that is to be. [he lectured on this subject at the royal institution in .] they have met with approval from carpenter, as you will see by the last edition of his "principles of physiology," and i think that forbes and some others will be very likely eventually to come round to them, but everything that relates to abstract thought is at a low ebb among the mass of naturalists in this country. in the paper upon "thalassicolla," and in that which i read before the british association, as also in one upon the organisation of the rotifera, which i am going to have published in the microscopical society's "transactions," i have been driving in a series of wedges into cuvier's radiata, and showing how selon moi they ought to be distributed. i am every day becoming more and more certain that you were on the right track thirty years ago in your views of the order and symmetry to be traced in the true natural system. during the next session i mean to send in a paper to the royal society upon the "homologies of the mollusca," which shall astonish them. i want to get done for the mollusca what savigny did for the articulata, namely to show how they all--cephalopoda, gasteropoda, pteropoda, heteropoda, etc.--are organised in each. what with this and the book, i shall have enough to do for the next six months. you will doubtless ask what is the practical outlook of all this? whether it leads anywhere in the direction of bread and cheese? to this also i can give a tolerably satisfactory answer. as you won't have a professor of natural history at sydney--to my great sorrow--i have gone in as a candidate for a professorial chair at the other end of the world, toronto in canada. in england there is nothing to be done--it is the most hopeless prospect i know of; of course the service offers nothing for me except irretrievable waste of time, and the scientific appointments are so few and so poor that they are not tempting... had the sydney university been carried out as originally proposed, i should certainly have become a candidate for the natural history chair. i know no finer field for exertion for any naturalist than sydney harbour itself. should such a professorship be hereafter established, i trust you will jog the memory of my australian friends in my behalf. i have finally decided that my vocation is science, and i have made up my mind to the comparative poverty which is its necessary adjunct, and to the no less certain seclusion from the ordinary pleasures and rewards of men. i say this without the slightest idea that there is anything to be enthusiastic about in either science or its professors. a year behind the scenes is quite enough to disabuse one of all rose-pink illusions. but it is equally clear to me that for a man of my temperament, at any rate, the sole secret of getting through this life with anything like contentment is to have full scope for the development of one's faculties. science alone seems to me to afford this scope--law, divinity, physic, and politics being in a state of chaotic vibration between utter humbug and utter scepticism. there is a great stir in the scientific world at present about who is to occupy konig's place at the british museum, and whether the whole establishment had better not, quoad zoology, be remodelled and placed under owen's superintendence. the heart-burnings and jealousies about this matter are beyond all conception. owen is both feared and hated, and it is predicted that if gray and he come to be officers of the same institution, in a year or two the total result will be a caudal vertebra of each remaining after the manner of the kilkenny cats. however, i heard yesterday, upon what professed to be very good authority, that owen would not leave the college under any circumstances. it is astonishing with what an intense feeling of hatred owen is regarded by the majority of his contemporaries, with mantell as arch-hater. the truth is, he is the superior of most, and does not conceal that he knows it, and it must be confessed that he does some very ill-natured tricks now and then. a striking specimen of one is to be found in his article on lyell in the last quarterly, where he pillories poor quekett--a most inoffensive man and his own immediate subordinate--in a manner not more remarkable for its severity than for its bad taste. that review has done him much harm in the estimation of thinking men--and curiously enough, since it was written, reptiles have been found in the old red sandstone, and insectivorous mammals in the trias! owen is an able man, but to my mind not so great as he thinks himself. he can only work in the concrete from bone to bone, in abstract reasoning he becomes lost--witness "parthenogenesis" which he told me he considered one of the best things he had done! he has, however, been very civil to me, and i am as grateful as it is possible to be towards a man with whom i feel it necessary to be always on my guard. quite another being is the other leader of zoological science in this country--i mean edward forbes, paleontologist to the geological survey. more especially a zoologist and a geologist than a comparative anatomist, he has more claims to the title of a philosophic naturalist than any man i know of in england. a man of letters and an artist, he has not merged the man in the man of science--he has sympathies for all, and an earnest, truth-seeking, thoroughly genial disposition which win for him your affection as well as your respect. forbes has more influence by his personal weight and example upon the rising generation of scientific naturalists than owen will have if he write from now till doomsday. personally i am greatly indebted to him (though the opinion i have just expressed is that of the world in general). during my absence he superintended the publication of my paper, and from the moment of my arrival until now he has given me all the help one man can give another. why he should have done so i do not know, as when i left england i had only spoken to him once. the rest of the naturalists stand far below these two in learning, originality, and grasp of mind. goodsir of edinburgh should i suppose come next, but he can't write intelligibly. darwin might be anything if he had good health. bell is a good man in all the senses of the word, but wants qualities and . newport is a laborious man, but wants and . grant and rymer jones--arcades ambo--have mistaken their vocation. my old chief richardson is a man of men, but troubles himself little with anything but detail zoology. what think you of his getting married for the third time just before his last expedition? i hardly know by which step he approved himself the bolder man. i think i have now fulfilled my promise of supplying you with a little scientific scandal--and if this long epistle has repaid your trouble in getting through it, i am content. believe me, i have not forgotten, nor ever shall forget, your kindness to me at a time when a little appreciation and encouragement were more grateful to me and of more service than they will perhaps ever be again. i have done my best to justify you. i send copies of all the papers i have published with one exception, of which i have none separate. of the royal society papers i send a double set. will you be kind enough to give one with my kind regards and remembrances to dr. nicholson? i feel i ought to have written to him before leaving sydney, but i trust he will excuse my not having done so. i shall be very glad if you can find time to write. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. w. macleay, esq. p.s.--muller has just made a most extraordinary discovery, no less than the generation of molluscs from holothuriae!!! you will find a translation of his paper by me in the "annals" for january . december , . [to his sister.] may , . ...owen has been amazingly civil to me, and it was through his writing to the first lord that i got my present appointment. he is a queer fish, more odd in appearance than ever...and more bland in manner. he is so frightfully polite that i never feel thoroughly at home with him. he got me to furnish him with some notes for the second edition of the "admiralty manual of scientific inquiry," and i find that in it darwin and i (comparisons are odious) figure as joint authorities on some microscopic matters!! professor forbes, however, is my great ally, a first-rate man, thoroughly in earnest and disinterested, and ready to give his time and influence--which is great--to help any man who is working for the cause. to him i am indebted for the supervision of papers that were published in my absence, for many introductions, and most valuable information and assistance, and all done in such a way as not to oppress one or give one any feeling of patronage, which you know (so much do i retain of my old self) would not suit me. my notions are diametrically opposed to his in some matters, and he helps me to oppose him. the other night, or rather nights, for it took three, i had a long paper read at the royal society which opposed some of his views, and he got up and spoke in the highest terms of it afterwards. this is all as it should be. i can reverence such a man and yet respect myself. i have been aspiring to great honours since i wrote to you last, to wit the f.r.s., and found no little to my astonishment that i had a chance of it, and so went in. i must tell you that they have made the admission more difficult than it used to be. candidates are not elected by the society alone, but fifteen only a year are selected by a committee, and then elected as a matter of course by the society. this year there were thirty-eight candidates. i did not expect to come in till next year, but i find i am one of the selected. i fancy i shall be the junior fellow by some years. singularly enough, among the non-selected candidates were ward, the man who conducted the botanical honours examination of apothecaries' hall nine years ago, and bryson, the surgeon of the "fisguard," i.e. nominally my immediate superior, and who, as he frequently acts as sir william burnett's deputy, will very likely examine me when i pass for surgeon r.n.!! that is awkward and must be annoying to him, but it is not my fault. i did not ask for a single name that appeared upon my certificate. owen's name and carpenter's, which were to have been appended, were not added. forbes, my recommender, told me beforehand not to expect to get in this year, and did not use his influence, and so i have no intriguing to reproach myself with or to be reproached with. the only drawback is that it will cost me pounds sterling, which is more than i can very well afford. by the way, i have not told you that after staying for about five months with george, i found that if i meant to work in earnest his home was not the place, so, much to my regret,--for they made me very happy there,--i summoned resolution and "the boy's own book" and took a den of my own, whence i write at present. you had better, anyhow, direct to george, as i am going to move and don't know how long i may remain at my next habitation. at present i am living in the park road, but i find it too noisy and am going to st. anne's gardens, st. john's wood, close to my mother's, against whose forays i shall have to fortify myself. [it was a minor addition to his many troubles that after a time huxley found a grudging and jealous spirit exhibited in some quarters towards his success, and influence used to prevent any further advance that might endanger the existing balance of power in the scientific world. but this could be battled with directly; indeed it was rather a relief to have an opportunity for action instead of sitting still to wait the results of uncertain elections. the qualities requisite for such a contest he possessed, in a high ideal of the dignity of science as an instrument of truth; a standard of veracity in scientific workers to which all should subordinate their personal ambitions; a disregard of authority as such unless its claims were verified by indisputable fact; and as a beginning, the will to subject himself to his own most rigid canons of accuracy, thoroughness, and honesty; then to maintain his principle and defend his position against all attempts at browbeating.] march , i told you i was very busy, and i must tell you what i am about and you will believe me. i have just finished a memoir for the royal society ["on the morphology of the cephalous mollusca" "scientific memoirs" volume page .], which has taken me a world of time, thought, and reading, and is, perhaps, the best thing i have done yet. it will not be read till may, and i do not know whether they will print it or not afterwards; that will require care and a little manoeuvring on my part. you have no notion of the intrigues that go on in this blessed world of science. science is, i fear, no purer than any other region of human activity; though it should be. merit alone is very little good; it must be backed by tact and knowledge of the world to do very much. for instance, i know that the paper i have just sent in is very original and of some importance, and i am equally sure that if it is referred to the judgment of my "particular friend" -- that it will not be published. he won't be able to say a word against it, but he will pooh-pooh it to a dead certainty. you will ask with some wonderment, why? because for the last twenty years -- has been regarded as the great authority on these matters, and has had no one to tread on his heels, until at last, i think, he has come to look upon the natural world as his special preserve, and "no poachers allowed." so i must manoeuvre a little to get my poor memoir kept out of his hands. the necessity for these little stratagems utterly disgusts me. i would so willingly reverence and trust any man of high standing and ability. i am so utterly unable to comprehend this petty greediness. and yet withal you will smile at my perversity. i have a certain pleasure in overcoming these obstacles, and fighting these folks with their own weapons. i do so long to be able to trust men implicitly. i have such a horror of all this literary pettifogging. i could be so content myself, if the necessity of making a position would allow it, to work on anonymously, but -- i see is determined not to let either me or any one else rise if he can help it. let him beware. on my own subjects i am his master, and am quite ready to fight half a dozen dragons. and although he has a bitter pen, i flatter myself that on occasions i can match him in that department also. but i was telling you how busy i am. i am getting a memoir ready for the zoological society, and working at my lecture for the royal institution, which i want to make striking and original, as it is a good opportunity, besides doing a translation now and then for one of the journals. besides this, i am working at the british museum to make a catalogue of some creatures there. all these things take a world of time and labour; and yield next to no direct profit; but they bring me into contact with all sorts of men, in a very independent position, and i am told, and indeed hope, that something must arise from it. so fair a prospect opens out before me if i can only wait. i am beginning to know what work means, and see how much more may be done by steady, unceasing, and well-directed efforts. i thrive upon it too. i am as well as ever i was in my life, and the more i work the better my temper seems to be. april , , . p.m. i have just returned from giving my lecture at the royal institution, of which i told you in my last letter. ["on animal individuality" "scientific memoirs" volume page cp. supra.] i had got very nervous about it, and my poor mother's death had greatly upset my plans for working it out. it was the first lecture i had ever given in my life, and to what is considered the best audience in london. as nothing ever works up my energies but a high flight, i had chosen a very difficult abstract point, in my view of which i stand almost alone. when i took a glimpse into the theatre and saw it full of faces, i did feel most amazingly uncomfortable. i can now quite understand what it is to be going to be hanged, and nothing but the necessity of the case prevented me from running away. however, when the hour struck, in i marched, and began to deliver my discourse. for ten minutes i did not quite know where i was, but by degrees i got used to it, and gradually gained perfect command of myself and of my subject. i believe i contrived to interest my audience, and upon the whole i think i may say that this essay was successful. thank heaven i can say so, for though it is no great matter succeeding, failing would have been a bitter annoyance to me. it has put me comfortably at my ease with regard to all future lecturings. after the royal institution there is no audience i shall ever fear. may . the foolish state of excitement into which i allowed myself to get the other day completely did for me, and i have hardly done anything since except sleep a great deal. it is a strange thing that with all my will i cannot control my physical organisation. [to his sister.] april , . ...i fear nothing will have prepared you to hear that one so active in body and mind as our poor mother was has been taken from us. but so it is... it was very strange that before leaving london my mother, possessed by a strange whim, as i thought, distributed to many of us little things belonging to her. i laughed at her for what i called her "testamentary disposition," little dreaming that the words were prophetic. [the summons to those of the family in london reached them late, and their arrival was made still later by inconvenient trains and a midnight drive, so that all had long been over when they came to barning in kent, where the elder huxleys had just settled near their son james.] our mother had died at half-past four, falling gradually into a more and more profound insensibility. she was thus happily spared the pain of fruitlessly wishing us round her, in her last moments; and as the hand of death was upon her, i know not that it could have fallen more lightly. i offer you no consolation, my dearest sister; for i know of none. there are things which each must bear as he best may with the strength that has been allotted to him. would that i were near you to soften the blow by the sympathy which we should have in common... may , . so much occupation has crowded upon me between the beginning of this letter and the present time that i have been unable to finish it. i had undertaken to give a lecture at the royal institution on the th april. it was on a difficult subject, requiring a good deal of thought; and as it was my first appearance before the best audience in london, you may imagine how anxious and nervous i was, and how completely i was obliged to abstract my thoughts from everything else. however, i am happy to say it is well over. there was a very good audience--faraday, professor forbes, dr. forbes, wharton jones, and [a] whole lot of "nobs," among my auditors. i had made up my mind all day to break down, and then go and hang myself privately. and so you may imagine that i entered the theatre with a very pale face, and a heart beating like a sledge-hammer nineteen to the dozen. for the first five minutes i did not know very clearly what i was about, but by degrees i got possession of myself and of my subject, and did not care for anybody. i have had "golden opinions from all sorts of men" about it, so i suppose i may tell you i have succeeded. i don't think, however, that i ever felt so thoroughly used up in my life as i did for two days afterwards. there is one comfort, i shall never be nervous again about any audience; but at one's first attempt, to stand in the place of faraday and such big-wigs might excuse a little weakness. the way is clear before me, if my external circumstances will only allow me to persevere; but i fully expect that i shall have to give up my dreams. science in england does everything--but pay. you may earn praise but not pudding. i have helping hands held out to me on all sides, but there is nothing to help me to. last year i became a candidate for a professorship at toronto. i took an infinity of trouble over the thing, and got together a mass of testimonials and recommendations, much better than i had any right to expect. from that time to this i have heard nothing of the business--a result for which i care the less, as i believe the chair will be given to a brother of one of the members of the canadian ministry, who is, i hear, a candidate. such a qualification as that is, of course, better than all the testimonials in the world. i think i told you when i last wrote that i was expecting a grant from government to publish the chief part of my work, done while away. i am expecting it still. i got tired of waiting the other day and wrote to the duke of northumberland, who is at present first lord of the admiralty, upon the subject. his grace has taken the matter up, and i hope now to get it done. with all this, however, time runs on. people look upon me, i suppose, as a "very promising young man," and perhaps envy my "success," and i all the while am cursing my stars that my pegasus will fly aloft instead of pulling slowly along in some respectable gig, and getting his oats like any other praiseworthy cart-horse. it's a charming piece of irony altogether. it is two years yesterday since i left sydney harbour--and of course as long since i saw nettie. i am getting thoroughly tired of our separation, and i think she is, though the dear little soul is ready to do anything for my sake, and yet i dare not face the stagnation--the sense of having failed in the whole purpose of my existence--which would, i know, sooner or later beset me, even with her, if i forsake my present object. can you wonder with all this, my dearest lizzie, that often as i long for your brave heart and clear head to support and advise me, i yet rarely feel inclined to write? pray write to me more often than you have done; tell me all about yourself and the doctor and your children. they must be growing up fast, and florry must be getting beyond the "bird of paradise" i promised her. love and kisses to all of them, and kindest remembrances to the doctor. ever your affectionate brother, t.h. huxley. [to miss heathorn] november , . going last week to the royal society's library for a book, and like the boy in church "thinkin' o' naughten," when i went in, weld, the assistant secretary, said, "well, i congratulate you." i confess i did not see at that moment what any mortal man had to congratulate me about. i had a deuced bad cold, with rheumatism in my head; it was a beastly november day and i was very grumpy, so i inquired in a state of mild surprise what might be the matter. whereupon i learnt that the medal had been conferred at the meeting of the council on the day before. i was very pleased...and i thought you would be so too, and i thought moreover that it was a fine lever to help us on, and if i could have sent a letter to you immediately i should have sat down and have written one to you on the spot. as it is i have waited for official confirmation and a convenient season. and now...shall i be very naughty and make a confession? the thing that a fortnight ago (before i got it) i thought so much of, i give you my word i do not care a pin for. i am sick of it and ashamed of having thought so much of it, and the congratulations i get give me a sort of internal sardonic grin. i think this has come about partly because i did not get the official confirmation of what i had heard for some days, and with my habit of facing the ill side of things i came to the conclusion that weld had made a mistake, and i went in thought through the whole enormous mortification of having to explain to those to whom i had mentioned it that it was quite a mistake. i found that all this, when i came to look at it, was by no means so dreadful as it seemed--quite bearable in short--and then i laughed at myself and have cared nothing about the whole concern ever since. in truth...i do not think that i am in the proper sense of the word ambitious. i have an enormous longing after the highest and best in all shapes--a longing which haunts me and is the demon which ever impels me to work, and will let me have no rest unless i am doing his behests. the honours of men i value so far as they are evidences of power, but with the cynical mistrust of their judgment and my own worthiness, which always haunts me, i put very little faith in them. their praise makes me sneer inwardly. god forgive me if i do them any great wrong. ...i feel and know that all the rewards and honours in the world will ever be worthless for me as soon as they are obtained. i know that always, as now, they will make me more sad than joyful. i know that nothing that could be done would give me the pure and heartfelt joy and peace of mind that your love has given me, and, please god, shall give for many a long year to come, and yet my demon says work! work! you shall not even love unless you work. not blinded by any vanity, then, i hope...but viewing this stroke of fortune as respects its public estimation only, i think i must look upon the award of this medal as the turning-point of my life, as the finger-post teaching me as clearly as anything can what is the true career that lies open before me. for whatever may be my own private estimation of it, there can be no doubt as to the general feeling about this thing, and in case of my candidature for any office it would have the very greatest weight. and as you will have seen by my last letter, it only strengthens and confirms the conclusion i had come to. bid me god-speed then...it is all i want to labour cheerfully. november . ...you will hear all the details of the great duke's state funeral from the papers much better than i can tell you them. i went to the cathedral [st paul's] and had the good fortune to get a capital seat--in front, close to the great door by which every one entered. it was bitter cold, a keen november wind blowing right in, and as i was there from eight till three, i expected nothing less than rheumatic fever the next day; however i didn't get it. it was pitiful to see the poor old marquis of anglesey--a year older than the duke--standing with bare head in the keen wind close to me for more than three quarters of an hour. it was impressive enough--the great interior lighted by a single line of light running along the whole circuit of the cornice, and another encircling the dome, and casting a curious illumination over the masses of uniforms which filled the great space. the best of our people were there and passed close to me, but the only face that made any great impression upon my memory was that of sir charles napier, the conqueror of scinde. fancy a very large, broad-winged, and fierce-looking hawk in uniform. such an eye! when the coffin and the mourners had passed i closed up with the soldiers and went up under the dome, where i heard the magnificent service in full perfection. all of it, however, was but stage trickery compared with the noble simplicity of the old man's life. how the old stoic, used to his iron bed and hard hair pillow, would have smiled at all the pomp--submitting to that, however, and all other things necessary to the "carrying on of the queen's government." i send tennyson's ode by way of packing--it is not worth much more, the only decent passages to my mind being those i have marked. the day after to-morrow i go to have my medal presented and to dine and make a speech. [the royal medal was conferred on november , and the medallists were entertained at the anniversary dinner of the society on that day. in the words with which the president, the earl of rosse, accompanied the presentation of the medal, "it is not difficult," writes sir m. foster, "reading between the lines, to recognise the appreciation of a new spirit of anatomical inquiry, not wholly free from a timorous apprehension as to its complete validity." ("in these papers (on the medusae) you have for the first time fully developed their structure, and laid the foundation of a rational theory for their classification." "in your second paper 'on the anatomy of salpa and pyrosoma,' the phenomena, etc., have received the most ingenious and elaborate elucidation, and have given rise to a process of reasoning, the results of which can scarcely yet be anticipated, but must bear in a very important degree upon some of the most abstruse points of what may be called transcendental physiology." see "royal society" obituary notices volume page .) for the difference between this and the labours of the greatest english comparative anatomist of the time, whose detailed work was of the highest value, but whose generalisations and speculations, based on the philosophy of oken, proved barren and fruitless, lay in the fact that huxley, led to it doubtless by his solitary readings in his charing cross days, had taken up the method of von baer and johannes muller, then almost unknown, or at least unused in england--"the method which led the anatomist to face his problems in the spirit in which the physicist faced his." he had been warned by forbes not to speak too strongly about the dilatoriness of the government in the matter of the grant, so he writes:] "i will 'roar you like any sucking dove' at the dinner, though i felt tempted otherwise." [on december he tells how he carried out this advice.] my dear forbes, you will, i know, like to learn how i got on yesterday. the president's address to me had been drawn up by bell. it was, of course, too flattering, but he had taken hold of the right points in my work--at least i thought so. bunsen spoke very well for humboldt. there was a capital congregation at the dinner--sixty or seventy fellows there... when it came to my turn to return thanks, i believe i made a very tolerable speechification, at least everybody says so. lord rosse had alluded to "science having to take care of itself in this country," and in winding up i gave them a small screed upon that text. that you may see i kept your caution in mind, i will tell you as nearly as may be what i said. i told them that i could not conceive that anything i had hitherto done merited the honour of that day (i looked so preciously meek over this), but that i was glad to be able to say that i had so much unpublished material as to make me hopeful of one day diminishing the debt. i then said, "the government of this country, of this great country, has been two years debating whether it should grant the three hundred pounds sterling necessary for the publication of these researches. i have been too long used to strict discipline to venture to criticise any act of my superiors, but i venture to hope that before long, in consequence of the exertions of lord rosse, of the president of the british association, and the goodwill, which i gratefully acknowledge, of the present lord of the admiralty, i shall be able to lay before you something more worthy of to-day's award." i had my doubts how the nobs would take it, but both lord rosse and sabine warmly commended my speech and regretted i had not said even more upon the subject. [some light is thrown upon his habits at this time by the following, part of his letter to forbes of november :--] i have frequent visits from --. he is a good man, but direfully argumentative, and in that sense to me a bore. besides that, the creature will come and call upon me at nine or ten o'clock in the morning before i am out of bed, or if out of bed, before i am in possession of my faculties, which never arrive before twelve or one. [this morning incapacity was of a piece with his hatred of the breakfast-party of the period. to go abroad from home or to do any work before breakfasting ensured him a headache for the rest of the day, so that he never was one of those risers with the dawn who do half a day's work before the rest of the world is astir. and though necessity often compelled him to do with less, he always found eight hours his proper allowance of sleep. but in the end of we hear of a reform in his ways, after a bad bout of ill-health, when he rises at eight, goes to bed at twelve, and eschews parties of every kind as far as possible, with excellent results as far as health went. after his marriage, however, and indeed to the beginning of his last illness, he always rose early enough for an eight o'clock breakfast, after which the working day began, lasting regularly from a little after nine till midnight. upper york place, st. john's wood, february , . many thanks, my dearest sister, for your kind and thoughtful letter--it went to my heart no little that you, amidst all your trials and troubles, should find time to think so wisely and so affectionately of mine. though greatly tempted otherwise, i have acted in the spirit of your advice, and my reward, in the shape of honours at any rate, has not failed me, as the royal society gave me one of the royal medals last year. it's a bigger one than i got under your auspices so many years ago, being worth pounds sterling, but i don't know that i cared so much about it. it was assigned to me quite unexpectedly, and in the eyes of the world i, of course, am greatly the bigger--but i will confess to you privately that i am by no means dilated, and am the identical boy tom i was before i achieved the attainment of my golden porter's badge. curiously it was given for the first memoir i have in the royal society's "transactions," sent home four years ago with no small fear and trembling, and, "after many days," returning with this queer crust of bread. in the speech i had to make at the anniversary dinner i grew quite eloquent on that point, and talked of the dove i had sent from my ark, returning, not with the olive branch, but with a sprig of the bay and a fruit from the garden of the hesperides--a simile which i thought decidedly clever, but which the audience--distinguished audience i ought to have said--probably didn't, as they did not applaud that, while they did some things i said which were incomparably more stupid. this was in november, and i ought to have written to you about it before, my dear lizzie, but for one thing i am very much occupied, and for the other (shall i confess it?) i was rather puzzled that i had not heard from you since i wrote. now my useless conscience, which never makes me do anything right in time, is pitching in to me when it is too late. the medal, however, must not be jested at, as it is most decidedly of practical use in giving me a status in the eyes of those charming people, "practical men," such as i had not before, and i am amused to find some of my friends, whose contempt for my "dreamy" notions was not small in time past, absolutely advising me to take a far more dreamy course than i dare venture upon. however, i take very much my own course now, even as i have done before--huxley all over. however, that is enough about myself just now. in the next letter i will tell you more at length about my plans and prospects, which are mostly, i am sorry to say, only provocative of setting my teeth hard and saying, "never mind, i will." but what i write in a hurry about and want you to do at once, is to write to me and tell me exactly how money may be sent safely to you. it is inexpedient to send without definite directions, according to the character you give your neighbours. don't expect anything vast, but there is corn in egypt... two classes of people can i deal with and no third. they are the good people--people after my own heart, and the thorough men of the world. either of these i can act and sympathise with, but the others, who are neither for god nor for the devil, but for themselves, as grim old dante has it, and whom he therefore very justly puts in a most uncomfortable place, i cannot do with... so florry is growing up into a great girl; the child will not remember me, but kiss her and my godson for me, and give my love to them all. the lymph shall come in my next letter for the young yankee. i hope the juices of the english cow will prevent him from ever acquiring the snuffle. tell the doctor all about the medal, with my kindest regards, and believe me, my dearest lizzie, your affectionate brother, tom. upper york place, st. john's wood, april , . my dearest lizzie, first let me congratulate you on being safe over your troubles and in possession of another possible president. i think it may be worth coming over twenty years hence on the possibility of picking up something or other from one of my nephews at washington. [he sends some money.] would it were more worth your having, but i have not as yet got on to tom tiddler's ground on this side of the water. you need not be alarmed about my having involved myself in any way--such portion of it as is of my sending has been conquered by mine own sword and spear, and the rest came from mary. [mrs. george huxley]... [after giving a summary of his struggle with the admiralty, he proceeds]--if i were to tell you all the intriguing and humbug there has been about my unfortunate grant--which yet granted--it would occupy this letter, and though a very good illustration of the encouragement afforded to science in this country, would not be very amusing. once or twice it has fairly died out, only to be stirred up again by my own pertinacity. however, i have hopes of it at last, as i hear lord rosse is just about to make another application to the present government on the subject. while this business has been dragging on of course i have not been idle. i have four memoirs (on various matters in comparative anatomy) in the "philosophical transactions," and they have given me their fellowship and one of the royal medals. i have written a whole lot of things for the journals--reviews for the "british and foreign quarterly medical," etc. i am one of the editors of taylor's "scientific memoirs" (german scientific translations). in conjunction with my friend busk i am translating a great german book on the "microscopical anatomy of man," and i have engaged to write a long article for todd's "cyclopaedia." besides this, have read two long memoirs at the british association, and have given two lectures at the royal institution--one of them only two days ago, when i was so ill with influenza i could hardly stand or speak. furthermore, i have been a candidate for a professorship of natural history at toronto (which is not even yet decided); for one at aberdeen, which has been given against me; and at present i am a candidate for the professorship of physiology at king's college, or, rather, for half of it--todd having given up, and bowman, who remains, being willing to take only half, and that he will soon give up. my friend edward forbes--a regular brick, who has backed me through thick and thin--is backing me for king's college, where he is one of the professors. my chance is, i believe, very good, but nothing can be more uncertain than the result of the contest. if they don't take one of their own men i think they will have me. it would suit me very well, and the whole chair is worth pounds sterling a year, and would enable me to live. something i must make up my mind to do, and that speedily. i can get honour in science, but it doesn't pay, and "honour heals no wounds." in truth i am often very weary. the longer one lives the more the ideal and the purpose vanishes out of one's life, and i begin to doubt whether i have done wisely in giving vent to the cherished tendency towards science which has haunted me ever since my childhood. had i given myself to mammon i might have been a respectable member of society with large watch-seals by this time. i think it is very likely that if this king's college business goes against me, i may give up the farce altogether--burn my books, burn my rod, and take to practice in australia. it is no use to go on kicking against the pricks... chapter . . . [the year marks the turning-point in huxley's career. the desperate time of waiting came to an end. by the help of his lectures and his pen, he could at all events stand and wait independently of the navy. he could not, of course, think of immediate marriage, nor of asking miss heathorn to join him in england; but it so happened that her father was already thinking of returning home, and finally this was determined upon just before professor forbes' translation to a chair at edinburgh gave huxley what turned out to be the long-hoped-for permanency in london.] june , . i have often spoken to you of my friend edward forbes. he has quite recently been suddenly appointed to a professorial chair in edinburgh, vacated by the death of old jamieson. he was obliged to go down there at once and lecture, and as he had just commenced his course at the government school of mines in jermyn street, it was necessary to obtain a substitute. he had spoken to me of the possibility of his being called away long ago, and had asked if i would take his place, to which, of course, i assented, but the whole affair was so uncertain that i never in any way reckoned upon it. even at last i did not know on the monday whether i was to go on for him on the friday or not. however, he did go after giving two lectures, and on friday the th may i took his lecture, and i have been going on ever since, twice a week on mondays and fridays. called upon so very suddenly to give a course of some six and twenty lectures, i find it very hard work, but i like it and i never was in better health. [on july , this temporary work, which he had undertaken as the friend of forbes, was exchanged for one of the permanent lectureships formerly held by the latter. a hundred a year for twenty-six lectures was not affluence; it would have suited him better to have had twice the work and twice the pay. but it was his crossing of the rubicon, and, strangely enough, no sooner had he gained this success than it was doubled.] july , . i was appointed yesterday to a post of pounds sterling a year. it has all come about in the strangest way. i told you how my friend forbes had been suddenly called away to edinburgh, and that i had suddenly taken his duties--sharp work it has been i can tell you these summer months, but it is over and done satisfactorily. forbes got pounds sterling a year, pounds sterling for a double lectureship, pounds sterling for another office. i took one of the lectureships, which would have given me pounds sterling a year only, and another man was to have the second lectureship and the other office in question. it was so completely settled a week ago that i had written to the president of the board of trade who makes the appointment, accepting mine, and the other man had done the same. happily for me, however, my new colleague was suddenly afflicted with a sort of moral colic, an absurd idea that he could not perform the duties of his office, and resigned it. the result is that a new man has been appointed to the office he left vacant, while the lectureship was offered to me. of course i took it, and so in the course of the week i have seen my paid income doubled...so after a short interval i have become a government officer again, but in rather a different position i flatter myself. i am chief of my own department, and my position is considered a very good one--as good as anything of its kind in london. [furthermore, on august he was "entrusted with the coast survey investigations under the geological survey, and remunerated by fee until march , , when he was ranked as naturalist on the survey with an additional salary of pounds sterling, afterwards increased to pounds sterling, rising to pounds sterling per annum," as the official statement has it. then in quick succession he was offered in august a lectureship on comparative anatomy at st. thomas' hospital for the following may and june, and in september he was asked to lecture in november and march for the science and art department at marlborough house. now therefore, with the heathorns coming to england, his plans and theirs exactly fitted, and he proposed to get married as soon as they came over, early in the following summer. a letter of this year deserves quoting as illustrating the directness of huxley's dealings with his friends, and his hatred of doing anything unknown to them which might be misreported to them or misconstrued without explanation. as a member of the royal society council, it was his duty to vote upon the persons to whom the yearly medals of the society should be awarded. for the royal medal first hooker was named, and received his hearty support; then forbes, in opposition to hooker, in his eyes equally deserving of recognition, and almost more closely bound to him by ties of friendship, so that whatever action he took, might be ascribed to motives which should have no part in such a selection. the course actually taken by him he explained at length in letters to both forbes and hooker.] november , . my dear hooker, i have been so busy with lecturing here and there that i have not had time to write and congratulate you on the award of the medal. the queer position in which i was placed prevents me from being able to congratulate myself on having any finger in the pie, but i am quite sure there was no member of the council who felt more strongly than myself that what honour the bauble could confer was most fully won, and no more than your just deserts; or who rejoiced more when the thing was settled in your favour. however, i do trust that i shall never be placed in such an awkward position again. i would have given a great deal to be able to back forbes tooth and nail--not only on account of my personal friendship and affection for him, but because i think he well deserves such recognition. and had i thought right to do so, i felt sure that you would have fully appreciated my motives, and that it would have done no injury to our friendship. but as i told the council i did not think this a case where either of you had any right to be excluded by the other. i told them that had forbes been first named, i should have thought it injudicious to bring you forward, and that, as you were named, i for my own part should not have brought forward forbes as a candidate; that therefore while willing to speak up to any extent for forbes' positive merits and deserts, i would carefully be understood to give no opinion as to your and his relative standing. they did not take much by my speech therefore either way, more especially as i voted for both of you. i hate doing anything of the kind "unbeknownst" to people, so there is the exact history of my proceedings. if i had been able to come to the clear conclusion that the claims of either of you were strongly superior to those of the other, i think i should have had the honesty and moral courage to "act accordin'," but i really had not, and so there was no part to play but that of a sort of vicar of bray. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [forbes' reply was a letter which huxley, after his friend's death, held] "among his most precious possessions." [it appeared without names in the obituary notice of forbes in the "literary gazette" for november , , as an example of his unselfish generosity:-- i heartily concur in the course you have taken, and had i been placed as you have been, would have done exactly the same...your way of proceeding was as true an act of friendship as any that could be performed. as to myself, i dream so little about medals, that the notion of being on the list never entered my brain, even when asleep. if it ever comes i shall be pleased and thankful; if it does not, it is not the sort of thing to break my equanimity. indeed, i would always like to see it given not as a mere honour, but as a help to a good man, and this it is assuredly in hooker's case. government people are so ignorant that they require to have merits drummed into their heads by all possible means, and hooker's getting the medal may be of real service to him before long. i am in a snug, though not an idle nest,--he has not got his resting-place yet. and so, my dear huxley, i trust that you know me too well to think that i am either grieved or envious, and you, hooker, and i are much of the same way of thinking. it is interesting to record the same scrupulosity over the election to the registrarship of the university of london in , when, having begun to canvass for dr. latham before his friend dr. w.b. carpenter entered the field, he writes to hooker:--] i at once, of course told carpenter precisely what i had done. had i known of his candidature earlier, i should certainly have taken no active part on either side--not for latham, because i would not oppose carpenter, and not for carpenter, because his getting the registrarship would probably be an advantage for me, as i should have a good chance of obtaining the examinership in physiology and comparative anatomy which he would vacate. indeed, i refused to act for carpenter in a case in which he asked me to do so, partly for this reason and partly because i felt thoroughly committed to latham. under these circumstances i think you are quite absolved from any pledge to me. it's deuced hard to keep straight in this wicked world, but as you say the only chance is to out with it, and i thank you much for writing so frankly about the matter. i hope it will be as fine as to-day at down. [(charles darwin's home in kent.) unfortunately the method was not so successful with smaller minds. once in , when he had to report unfavourably on a paper for the "annals of natural history" on the structure of the starfishes, sent in by an acquaintance, he felt it right not to conceal his action, as he might have done, behind the referee's usual screen of anonymity, but to write a frank account of the reasons which had led him so to report, that he might both clear himself of the suspicion of having dealt an unfair blow in the dark, and give his acquaintance the opportunity of correcting and enlarging his paper with a view of submitting it again for publication. in this case the only result was an impassioned correspondence, the author even going so far as to suggest that huxley had condemned the paper without having so much as dissected an echinoderm in his life! and then all intercourse ceased, till years afterwards the gentleman in question realised the weaknesses of his paper and repented him of his wrath. before leaving london to begin his work at tenby as naturalist to the survey, he delivered at st. martin's hall, on july , an address on the "educational value of the natural history sciences. (the subsequent reference is to the words, "i cannot but think that he who finds a certain proportion of pain and evil inseparably woven up in the life of the very worms will bear his own share with more courage and submission; and will, at any rate, view with suspicion those weakly amiable theories of the divine government, which would have us believe pain to be an oversight and a mistake, to be corrected by and by." ("collected essays" page .) this essay contains the definition of science as "trained and organised common sense," and the reference to a new "peter bell" which suggested miss may kendall's spirited parody of wordsworth:-- primroses by the river's brim dicotyledons were to him, and they were nothing more.) this, when it came out later as a pamphlet, he sent to his tenby friend dr. dyster (of whom hereafter), to whose criticism on one passage he replied on october :--] ...i am rejoiced you liked my speechment. it was written hastily and is, like its speaker, i fear, more forcible than eloquent, but it can lay claim to the merit of being sincere. my intention on page was by no means to express any satisfaction at the worms being as badly off as ourselves, but to show that pain being everywhere is inevitable, and therefore like all other inevitable things to be borne. the rest of it is the product of my scientific calvinism, which fell like a shell at your feet when we were talking over the fire. i doubt, or at least i have no confidence in, the doctrine of ultimate happiness, and i am more inclined to look the opposite possibility fully in the face, and if that also be inevitable, make up my mind to bear it also. you will tell me there are better consolations than stoicism; that may be, but i do not possess them, and i have found my "grin and bear it" philosophy stand me in such good stead in my course through oceans of disgust and chagrin, that i should be loth to give it up. [the summer of was spent in company with the busks at tenby, amid plenty of open-air work and in great peace of mind, varied with a short visit to liverpool in order to talk business with his friend forbes, who was eager that huxley should join him in edinburgh.] tenby, south wales, september , . i have been here since the middle of august, getting rid of my yellow face and putting on a brown one, banishing dyspepsias and hypochondrias and all such other town afflictions to the four winds, and rejoicing exceedingly that i am out of the way of that pest, the cholera, which is raging just at present in london. after i had arranged to come here to do a lot of work of my own which can only be done by the seaside, our director, sir henry de la beche, gave me a special mission of his own whereby i have the comfort of having my expenses paid, but at the same time get it taken out of me in additional labour, so my recreation is anything but leisure. october . i left this place for a week's trip to liverpool in the end of september. the meeting of the british association was held there, but i went not so much to be present as to meet forbes, with whom i wanted to talk over many matters concerning us both. forbes had a proposition that i should go to edinburgh to take part of the duties of the professor of physiology there, who is in bad health, with the ultimate aim of succeeding to the chair. it was a tempting offer made in a flattering manner, and presenting a prospect of considerably better emolument than my special post, but it had the disadvantage of being but an uncertain position. had i accepted, i should have been at the mercy of the actual professor--and that is a position i don't like standing in, even with the best of men, and had he died or resigned at any time the scotch chairs are so disposed of that there would have been nothing like a certainty of my getting the post, so i definitely declined--i hope wisely. after some talk, forbes agreed with my view of the case, so he is off to edinburgh, and i shall go off to london. i hope to remain there for my life long. [he had long felt that london gave the best opportunities for a scientific career, and it was on his advice that tyndall had left queenwood college for the royal institution, where he was elected professor of natural philosophy in :--] upper york place, st. john's wood, february , . my dear tyndall, having rushed into more responsibility than i wotted of, i have been ruminating and taking counsel what advice to give you. when i wrote i hardly knew what kind of work you had in your present office, but francis has since enlightened me. i thought you had more leisure. one thing is very clear--you must come out of that. your pegasus is quite out of place ploughing. you are using yourself up in work that comes to nothing, and so far as i can see cannot be worse off. now what are your prospects? why, as i told you before, you have made a succes here and must profit by it. the other night your name was mentioned at the philosophical club (the most influential scientific body in london) with great praise. gassiot, who has great influence, said in so many words, "you had made your fortune," and i frankly tell you i believe so too, if you can only get over the next three years. so you see that quoad position, like quintus curtius, there is a "fine opening" ready for you, only mind you don't spoil it by any of your horrid modesty. so much for glory--now for economics. i have been trying to ferret out more nearly your chances of a post, and here are my results (which, i need not tell you, must be kept to yourself). at the museum in jermyn street, playfair, forbes, percy and i think sir henry would do anything to get you, and eliminate --; but, so far as i can judge, the probability of his going is so small that it is not worth your while to reckon upon it. nevertheless it may be comforting to you to know that in case of anything happening these men will help you tooth and nail. cultivate playfair when you have a chance--he is a good fellow, wishes you well, has great influence, and will have more. entre nous, he has just got a new and important post under government. next, the royal institution. this is where, as i told you, you ought to be looking to faraday's place. have no scruple about your chemical knowledge; you won't be required to train a college of students in abstruse analyses; and if you were, a year's work would be quite enough to put you at ease. what they want, and what you have, are clear powers of exposition--so clear that people may think they understand even if they don't. that is the secret of faraday's success, for not a tithe of the people who go to hear him really understand him. however, i am afraid that a delay must occur before you can get placed at the royal institution, as you cannot hold the professorship until you have given a course of lectures there, and it would seem that there is no room for you this year. however, i must try and learn more about this. under these circumstances the london institution looks tempting. i have been talking over the matter with forbes, whose advice i look upon as first-rate in all these things, and he is decidedly of the opinion that you should take the london institution if it is offered you. he says that lecturing there and lecturing at other institutions, and writing, you could with certainty make more than you at present receive, and that you would have the command of a capital laboratory and plenty of time. then as to position--of which i was doubtful--it appears that grove has made it a good one. it is of great importance to look to this point in london--to be unshackled by anything that may prevent you taking the highest places, and it was only my fear on this head that made me advise you to hesitate about the london institution. more consideration leads me to say, take that, if it will bring you up to london at once, so that you may hammer your reputation while it is hot. however, consider all these things well, and don't be hasty. i will keep eyes and ears open and inform you accordingly. write to me if there is anything you want done, supposing always there is nobody who will do it better--which is improbable. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [but this year of victory was not to pass away without one last blow from fate. on november , edward forbes, the man in whom huxley had found a true friend and helper, inspired by the same ideals of truth and sincerity as himself, died suddenly at edinburgh. the strong but delicate ties that united them were based not merely upon intellectual affinity, but upon the deeper moral kinship of two strong characters, where each subordinated interest to ideal, and treated others by the measure of his own self-respect. as early as march he had written:--] i wish you knew my friend professor forbes. he is the best creature you can imagine, and helps me in all manner of ways. a man of very great knowledge, he is wholly free from pedantry and jealousy, the two besetting sins of literary and scientific men. up to his eyes in work, he never grudges his time if it is to help a friend. he is one of the few men i have ever met to whom i can feel obliged, without losing a particle of independence or self-respect. [the following from a letter to hooker, announcing forbes'death, is a striking testimony to his worth:--] i think i have never felt so crushed by anything before. it is one of those losses which cannot be replaced either to the private friend or to science. to me especially it is a bitter loss. without the aid and sympathy he has always given me from first to last, i should never have had the courage to persevere in the course i have followed. and it was one of my greatest hopes that we should work in harmony for long years at the aims so dear to us both. but it is otherwise, and we who remain have nothing left but to bear the inevitable as we best may. [and again a few days later:--] i have had no time to write to you again till now, but i write to say how perfectly you express my own feeling about our poor friend. one of the first things i thought of was that medal business, and i never rejoiced in anything more than that i had not been deterred by any moral cowardice from acting as i did. as it is i reckon that letter (which i will show you some day) among my most precious possessions. [huxley's last tribute to his dead friend was the organising a memorial fund, part of which went to getting a bust of him made, part to establishing an edward forbes medal, to be competed for by the students of his old school in jermyn street. as huxley had been forbes' successor at jermyn street, so now he seemed to many marked out to succeed him at edinburgh. in november he writes to hooker:--] people have been at me about the edinburgh chair. if i could contrive to stop here, between you and i, i would prefer it to half a dozen edinburgh chairs, but there is a mortal difference between and pounds sterling a year. i have written to say that if the professors can make up their minds they wish me to stand, i will--if not, i will not. for my own part, i believe my chances would be very small, and i think there is every probability of their dividing the chair, in which case i certainly would not go. however, i hate thinking about the thing. [and also to his sister:--] november , . my dearest lizzie, i feel i have been silent very long--a great deal too long--but you would understand if you knew how much i have to do; why, with every disposition to do otherwise, i now write hardly any but business letters. even nettie comes off badly i am afraid. when a man embarks as i have done, with nothing but his brains to back him, on the great sea of life in london, with the determination to make the influence and the position and the money which he hasn't got, you may depend upon it that the fierce wants and interests of his present and immediate circle leave him little time to think of anything else, whatever old loves and old memories may be smouldering as warmly as ever below the surface. so, sister mine, you must not imagine because i do not write that therefore i do not think of you or care to know about you, but only that i am eaten up with the zeal of my own house, and doing with all my heart the thing that the moment calls for. the last year has been eventful for me. there is always a cape horn in one's life that one either weathers or wrecks one's self on. thank god i think i may say i have weathered mine--not without a good deal of damage to spars and rigging though, for it blew deuced hard on the other side. at the commencement of this year my affairs came to a crisis. the government, notwithstanding all the representations which were made to them, would neither give nor refuse the grant for the publication of my work, and by way of cutting short all further discussion the admiralty called upon me to serve. a correspondence ensued, in which, as commonly happens in these cases, they got the worst of it in logic and words, and i in reality and "tin." they answered my syllogism by the irrelevant and absurd threat of stopping my pay if i did not serve at once. here was a pretty business! however, it was no use turning back when so much had been sacrificed for one's end, so i put their lordships' letter up on my mantelpiece and betook myself to scribbling for my bread. they, on the other hand, removed my name from the list. so there was an interregnum when i was no longer in her majesty's service. i had already joined the "westminster review," and had inured myself to the labour of translation--and i could get any amount of scientific work i wanted--so there was a living, though a scanty one, and amazingly hard work for it. my pen is not a very facile one, and what i write costs me a good deal of trouble. in the spring of this year, however, a door opened. my poor lost friend professor forbes--whose steady attachment and aid had always been of the utmost service to me--was called to fill the chair of natural history in edinburgh at a moment's notice. it is a very valuable appointment, and he was obliged to fill it at once. of course he left a number of vacancies behind, among them one at the government school of mines in jermyn street, where he lectured on natural history. i was called upon to take up his lectures where he left off, in the same sudden way, and the upshot of it all was that i became permanently attached--with pounds sterling a year pay. in other ways i can make a couple of hundred a year more even now, and i hope by-and-by to do better. in fact, a married man, as i hope soon to be, cannot live at all in the position which i ought to occupy under less than six hundred a year. if i keep my health, however, i have every hope of being able to do this--but, as the jockeys say, the pace is severe. nettie is coming over in the spring, and if i have any luck at all, i mean to have paid off my debts and to be married by this time next year. ([he writes on july , :--]"i commenced life upon nothing at all, and i had to borrow in the ordinary way from an agent for the necessary expenses of my outfit. i sent home a great deal of money, but notwithstanding, from the beautiful way they have of accumulating interest and charges of one description and another, i found myself pounds sterling in debt when i returned--besides something to my brother, about which, however, i do not suppose i need trouble myself just at present. as you may imagine, living in london, my pay now hardly keeps me, to say nothing of paying off my old scores. i could get no account of how things were going on with my agent while i was away,and therefore i never could tell exactly how i stood.") in the meanwhile, strangely enough--and very painfully for me--new possibilities have sprung up. my poor friend forbes died only a week ago, just as he was beginning his course and entering upon as brilliant a career as ever was opened to any scientific man in this country. i cannot tell you how deeply this has shocked me. i owe him so much, i loved him so well, and i have so very very few friends in the true sense of the word, that it has been perhaps a greater loss to me than to any one--although there never was a man so widely lamented. one could trust him so thoroughly! however, he has gone, poor fellow, and there is nothing for it but to shut one's self up again--and i was only going to say that his death leaves his post vacant, and i have been strongly urged to become a candidate for it by several of the most influential edinburgh professors. i am greatly puzzled what to do. i do not want to leave london, nor do i think much of my own chances of success if i become a candidate--though others do. on the other hand, a stipend which varies between and pounds sterling a year is not to be pooh-poohed. we shall see. if i can carry out some arrangements which are pending with the government to increase my pay to pounds sterling a year, i shall be strongly tempted to stop in london. it is the place, the centre of the world. in the meanwhile, as things always do come in heaps, i obtained my long-fought-for grant--though indirectly--from the government, which is, i think, a great triumph and vindication of the family motto--tenax propositi. like many long-sought-for blessings, however, it is rather a bore now that i have it, as i don't see how i am to find time to write the book. but things "do themselves" in a wonderful way. i'll tell you how many irons i have in the fire at this present moment:--( ) a manual of comparative anatomy for churchill; ( ) my "grant" book; ( ) a book for the british museum people (half done); ( ) an article for todd's "cyclopaedia" (half done); ( ) sundry memoirs on science; ( ) a regular quarterly article in the "westminster"; ( ) lectures at jermyn street in the school of mines; ( ) lectures at the school of art, marlborough house; ( ) lectures at the london institution, and odds and ends. now, my dearest lizzie, whenever you feel inclined to think it unkind i don't write, just look at that list, and remember that all these things require strenuous attention and concentration of the faculties, and leave one not very fit for anything else. you will say that it is bad to be so entirely absorbed in these things, and to that i heartily say amen!--but you might as well argue with a man who has just mounted the favourite for the "oaks" that it is a bad thing to ride fast. he admits that, and is off like a shot when the bell rings nevertheless. my bell has rung some time, and thank god the winning post is in sight. give my kindest regards to the doctor and special love to all the children. i send a trifle for my godson and some odds and ends in the book line, among other things a shakespeare for yourself, dear liz. believe me, ever your affectionate brother, t.h. huxley. [in december the edinburgh chair was practically offered to him undivided; but by that time the london authorities thought they had better make it worth his while to stay at jermyn street, and with negotiations begun for this end he refused to stand for edinburgh. in the following spring, however, he was again approached from edinburgh--not so much to withdraw his refusal and again become a candidate, as to let it be made known that he would accept the chair if it were offered him. but his position in london was now established; and he preferred to live in london on a bare sufficiency rather than to enjoy a larger income away from the centre of things. two letters to tyndall, which refer to the division of labour in the science reviews for the "westminster," indicate very clearly the high pressure at which huxley had already begun to work:--] tenby, south wales, october , . my dear tyndall, i was rejoiced to find you entertaining my proposition at all. no one believes how hard you work more than i, but i was not going to be such a bad diplomatist as to put that at the head of my letter, and if i had thought that what i want you to do involved any great accession thereto, i think i could not have mustered up the face to ask you. but really and truly, so long as it is confined to our own department it is no great affair. you make me laugh at the long face you pull about the duties, based on my phrase. the fact is, you notice what you like, and what you do not you leave undone, unless you get an editorial request to say something about a particular book. the whole affair is entirely in your own hands--at least it is in mine--as i went upon my principle of having a row at starting... now here is an equitable proposition. look at my work. i have a couple of monographs, odds and ends of papers for journals, a manual and some three courses of lectures to provide for this winter. "my necessities are as great as thine," as sir philip sidney didn't say, so be a brick, split the difference, and say you will be ready for the april number. i will write and announce the fact to chapman. what idiots we all are to toil and slave at this pace. i almost repent me of tempting you--after all--so i promise to hold on if you really think you will be overdoing it. with you i envy francis his gastric energies. i feel i have done for myself in that line, and am in for a life-long dyspeps. i have not, now, nervous energy enough for stomach and brain both, and if i work the latter, not even the fresh breezes of this place will keep the former in order. that is a discovery i have made here, and though highly instructive, it is not so pleasant as some other physiological results that have turned up. chapman, who died of cholera, was a distant relative of my man. the poor fellow vanished in the middle of an unfinished article, which has appeared in the last "westminster," as his forlorn vale! to the world. after all, that is the way to die, better a thousand times than drivelling off into eternity betwixt awake and asleep in a fatuous old age. believe me, ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on tyndall consenting, he wrote again on the th:--] i rejoice in having got you to put your head under my yoke, and feel ready to break into a hand gallop on the strength of it. i have written to chapman to tell him you only make an experiment on your cerebral substance--whose continuance depends on tenacity thereof. i didn't suspect you of being seduced by the magnificence of the emolument, you cincinnatus of the laboratory. i only suggested that as pay sweetens labour, a fortiori it will sweeten what to you will be no labour. i'm not a miserable mortal now--quite the contrary. i never am when i have too much to do, and my sage reflection was not provoked by envy of the more idle. only i do wish i could sometimes ascertain the exact juste milieu of work which will suit, not my head or will, these can't have too much; but my absurd stomach. [the edinburgh candidature, the adoption of his wider scheme for the carrying out of the coast survey, and his approaching marriage, are touched upon in the following letters to dr. frederick dyster of tenby, whose keen interest in marine zoology was the starting-point of a warm friendship with the rising naturalist, some fifteen years his junior. (it was to dyster that huxley owed his introduction in to f.d. maurice (whose work in educating the people he did his best to help), and later to charles kingsley, whom he first met at the end of june .] "what kingsley do you refer to?" [he writes on may ,] "alton locke kingsley or photographic kingsley? i shall be right glad to find good men and true anywhere, and i will take your bail for any man. but the work must be critically done.") [he was strongly urged by the younger man to complete and systematise his observations by taking in turn all the species of each genus of annelids found at tenby, and working them up into a series of little monographs] "which would be the best of all possible foundations for a history of the british annelidae":-- to dr. dyster. january , [he begins by confessing "a considerable liberty" he had been taking with dyster's name, in calling a joint discovery of this, which he described in the "edinburgh new philosophical journal," protula dysteri.] are you very savage? if so, you must go and take a walk along the sands and see the slant rays of the sunset tipping the rollers as they break on the beach; that always made even me at peace with all the world, and a fortiori it will you. truly, i wish i had any such source of consolation. chimney pots are highly injurious to my morals, and my temper is usually in proportion to the extent of my horizon. i have been swallowing oceans of disgust lately. all sorts of squabbles, some made by my own folly and others by the malice of other people, and no great sea and sky to go out under, and be alone and forget it all. you may have seen my name advertised by reeve as about to write a memoir of poor forbes, to be prefixed to a collection of his essays. i found that to be a mere bookseller's dodge on reeve's part, and when i made the discovery, of course we had a battle-royal, and i have now wholly withdrawn from it. i find, however, that one's kind and generous friends imagine it was an electioneering manoeuvre on my part for edinburgh. imagine how satisfactory. i forget whether i told you that i had been asked to stand for edinburgh and have done so. whether i shall be appointed or not i do not know. so far as my own wishes go, i am in a curiously balanced state of mind about it. many things make it a desirable post, but i dread leaving london and its freedom--its bedouin sort of life--for edinburgh and no whistling on sundays. besides, if i go there, i shall have to give up all my coast-survey plans, and all their pleasant concomitants. apropos of edinburgh i feel much like the irish hod-man who betted his fellow he could not carry him up to the top of a house in his hod. the man did it, but pat turning round as he was set down on the roof, said, "ye've done it, sure enough, but, bedad, i'd great hopes ye'd let me fall about three rounds from the top." bedad, i'm nearly at the top of the scotch ladder, but i've hopes. it is finally settled that the chair will not be divided. i told them frankly i would not go if it were. has highly sent your books yet? ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, february , . my dear dyster, ...i will do my best to help--to some alumni if the chance comes in my way, though, as you say, i don't like him. i can't help it. i respect piety, and hope i have some after my own fashion, but i have a profound prejudice against the efflorescent form of it. i never yet found in people thoroughly imbued with that pietism, the same notions of honour and straightforwardness that obtain among men of the world. it may be otherwise with --, but i can't help my pagan prejudice. so don't judge harshly of me there-anent. about edinburgh, i have been going to write to you for days past. i have decided on withdrawing from the candidature, and have done so. in fact the more i thought of it the less i liked it. they require nine months' lectures some four or five times a week, which would have thoroughly used me up, and completely put a stop to anything like original work; and then there was a horrid museum to be arranged, work i don't care about, and which would have involved an amount of intriguing and heart-burning, and would have required an amount of diplomacy to carry to a successful issue, for which my temper and disposition are wholly unfitted. and then i felt above all things that it was for me an imposture. here have i been fighting and struggling for years, sacrificing everything to be a man of science, a genuine worker, and if i had obtained the edinburgh chair, i should have been in reality a mere pedagogue and a man of science only in name. such were my notions, and if i hesitated at all and allowed myself to become a candidate, it was only because i have other interests to consult than my own. intending to "range myself" one of these days and become a respectable member of society, i was bound to consider my material interests. and so i should have been still a candidate for edinburgh had not the government here professed themselves unwilling to lose my services, adding the "material guarantee" of an addition to my income, which, though by no means bringing it up to the point of edinburgh, will still enable me (das heisst "us") to live comfortably here. i must renounce the "pomps and vanities," but all those other "lusts of the flesh" which may beseem a gentleman may be reasonably gratified. don't you think i have been wise in my hercules choice? after all i don't lay claim to any great merit, seeing it was anything but certain i should get edinburgh. the best of all is that i have every reason to believe that government will carry out my scheme for a coast survey, so happily and pleasantly begun at tenby last year. the final arrangements are almost complete, and i believe you may make up your mind to have four months of me next year. tenby shall be immortalised and jenkyn converted into a philosopher. [jenkyn was employed to collect shells, etc., at tenby. he is often alluded to as "the professor."] by the way, i think the best way would be to retain the shells till i come. my main purpose is to have in them a catalogue of what tenby affords. pray give my kind remembrances to mrs. dyster, and believe me, ever yours, t.h. huxley. april , . my dear dyster, by all that's good, your last note, which lies before me, has date a month ago. i looked at it just now, and became an april fool on the instant. all the winds of march, however, took their course through my thorax and eventuated in lectures. at least that is all the account i can give to myself of the time, and an unprofitable account it is, for everything but one's exchequer. so far as knowledge goes it is mere prodigality spending one's capital and adding nothing, for i find the physical exertion of lecturing quite unfits me for much else. fancy how last friday was spent. i went to jermyn street in the morning with the intention of preparing for my afternoon's lecture. people came talking to me up to within a quarter of an hour of the time, so i had to make a dash without preparation. then i had to go home to prepare for a second lecture in the evening, and after that i went to a soiree, and got home about one o'clock in the morning. i go on telling myself this won't do, but to no purpose. you will be glad to hear that my affairs here are finally settled, and i am regularly appointed an officer of the survey with the commission to work out the natural history of the coast. edinburgh has been tempting me again, and in fact i believe i was within an ace of going there, but the government definitely offering me this position, i was too glad to stop where i am. i can make six hundred a year here, and that being the case, i conceive i have a right to consult my own inclinations and the interest of my scientific reputation. the coast survey puts in my hands the finest opportunities that ever a man had, and it is a pity if i do not make myself something better than a caledonian pedagogue. the great first scheme i have in connection with my new post is to work out the marine natural history of britain, and to have every species of sea beast properly figured and described in the reports which i mean from time to time to issue. i can get all the engravings and all the printing i want done, but of course i am not so absurd as to suppose i can work out all these things myself. therefore my notion is to seek in all highways and byways for fellow labourers. busk will, i hope, supply me with figures and descriptions of the british polyzoa and hydrozoa, and i have confidence in my friend, mr. dyster of tenby (are you presumptuous enough to say you know him?) for the annelids, if he won't object to that mode of publishing his work. the mollusks, the crustaceans, and the fishes, the echinoderms and the worms, will give plenty of occupation to the other people, myself included, to say nothing of distribution and of the recent geological changes, all of which come within my programme. did i not tell you it was a fine field, and could the land o' cakes give me any scope like this? april , . my dear dyster, i didn't by any means mean to be so sphinx-like in my letter, though you have turned out an oedipus of the first water. true it is that i mean to "range myself," "live cleanly and leave off sack," within the next few months--that is to say, if nothing happens to the good ship which is at present bearing my fiancee homewards. so far as a restless mortal--more or less aweary of most things--like myself can be made happy by any other human being, i believe your good wishes are safe of realisation; at any rate, it will be my fault if they are not, and i beg you never to imagine that i could confound the piety of friendship with the "efflorescent" variety. i hope to marry in july, and make my way down to tenby shortly afterwards, and i am ready to lay you a wager that your vaticinations touching the amount of work that won't be done don't come true. so much for wives--now for worms--(i could not for the life of me help the alliteration). i, as right reverend father in worms and bishop of annelidae, do not think i ought to interfere with my most promising son, when a channel opens itself for the publication of his labours. so do what you will apropos of j--. if he does not do the worms any better than he did the zoophytes, he won't interfere with my plans. i shall be glad to see mrs. buckland's echinoderm. i think it must be a novelty by what you say. she is a very jolly person, but i have an unutterable fear of scientific women. ever yours, t.h. huxley. may , . my ship is not come home but is coming, and i have been in a state of desperation at the continuous east winds. however, to-day there is a westerly gale, and if it lasts i shall have news soon. you may imagine that i am in an unsatisfactory state of mind between this and lecturing five times a week. i beg to say that the "goods" i expect are home produce this transplanted (or sent a voyage as you do madeira), and not foreign growth by any means. but it is five years since we met, i am another man altogether, and if my wife be as much altered, we shall need a new introduction. correspondence, however active, is a poor substitute for personal communication and tells one but little of the inner life. [finally, on the eve of his marriage in july, tyndall congratulates him on being appointed to deliver the next course of fullerian lectures at the royal institution:-- the fates once seemed to point to our connection in a distant land: we are now colleagues at home, and i can claim you as my scientific brother. may the gods continue to drop fatness upon you, and may your next great step be productive of all the felicity which your warmest friends or your own rebellious heart can desire. chapter . . . miss heathorn and her parents reached england at the beginning of may , and took up their abode at titchfield terrace, not far from huxley's own lodgings and his brothers' house. one thing, however, filled huxley with dismay. miss heathorn's health had broken down utterly, and she looked at death's door. all through the preceding year she had been very ill; she had gone with friends, mr. and mrs. wise, to the newly opened mining-camp at bathurst, and she and mrs. wise were indeed the first women to visit it; returning to sydney after rather a rough time, she caught a chill, and being wrongly treated by a doctor of the blood-letting, calomel-dosing school, she was reduced to a shadow, and only saved by another practitioner, who reversed the treatment just in time. in his letters to her, huxley had not at first realised the danger she had been in; and afterwards tried to keep her spirits up by a cheerful optimism that would only look forward to their joyful union and many years of unbroken happiness to atone for their long parting. but the reality alarmed him. he took her to one of the most famous doctors of the day, as if merely a patient he was interested in. then as one member of the profession to another, he asked him privately his opinion of the case. "i give her six months of life," said aesculapius.] "well, six months or not," [replied huxley,] "she is going to be my wife." [the doctor was mightily put out. "you ought to have told me that before." of course, the evasive answer in such a contingency was precisely what huxley wished to avoid. happily another leading doctor held a much more favourable opinion, and said that with care her strength would come back, slowly but surely.] waverley place, wednesday. my dear hooker, my wife and i met again on sunday last, and i have established herself, her father and mother, close by me here at titchfield terrace, regent's park, and whenever you and mrs. hooker are in this part of the world, and can find time to call there, you will find her anything but surprised to see you. god help me! i discover that i am as bad as any young fool who knows no better, and if the necessity for giving six lectures a week did not sternly interfere, i should be hanging about her ladyship's apron-strings all day. she is in very bad health, poor child, and i have some reason to be anxious, but i have every hope she will mend with care. oh this life! "atra cura," as old thackeray has it, sits on all our backs and mingles with all our happiness. but if i go on talking in this way you will wonder what has come over my philosophership. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [black care was still in the background, but had relaxed her hold upon him. his spirits rose to the old point of gaiety. he writes how he gives a lively lecture to his students, and in the midst of it satan prompts him to crow or howl--a temptation happily resisted. he makes atrocious puns in bidding hooker to the wedding, which took place on july .] jermyn street, july , . my dear hooker, i ought long since to have thanked you in thomson's name as well as my own for your "flora indica." some day i promise myself much pleasure and profit from the digestion of the introductory essay, which is probably as much as my gizzard is competent to convert into nutrition. i terminate my baccalaureate and take my degree of m.a.-trimony (isn't that atrocious?) on saturday, july . after the unhappy criminals have been turned off, there will be refreshments provided for the sheriffs, chaplain, and spectators. will you come? don't if it is a bore, but i should much like to have you there. [it was not a large party that assembled at the george huxleys for the wedding, but all were life-long friends, including, besides the fanning clan and mrs. griffiths, an old australian ally, hooker, tyndall, and dr. and mrs. carpenter. there was none present but felt that abundant happiness was at least well earned after eight years of trial, and still more that its best guarantee was the firm loyalty and devotion that had passed through so many dangers of absence and isolation, so many temptations to renounce the ideal course under stress of circumstance, only to emerge strengthened and ennobled by the stern discipline of much sacrifice. great as was his new happiness, he hardly stood in need of darwin's word of warning: "i hope your marriage will not make you idle; happiness, i fear, is not good for work." huxley could not sit idle for long. if he had no occupation on hand, something worth investigation--and thorough investigation--was sure to catch his eye. so he writes to hooker from tenby:--] st. julian's terrace, tenby, august , . my dear hooker, i am so near the end of the honeymoon that i think it can hardly be immodest if i emerge from private life and write you a letter, more particularly as i want to know something. i went yesterday on an expedition to see the remains of a forest which exists between tidemarks at a place called amroth, near here. so far as i can judge there can be no doubt that this really is a case of downward movement. the stools of the trees are in their normal position, and their roots are embedded and interwoven in a layer of stiff blue clay, which lies immediately beneath the superficial mud of the shore. layers of leaves, too, are mixed up with the clay in other parts, and the bark of some of the trees is in perfect preservation. the condition of the wood is very curious. it is like very hard cheese, so that you can readily cut slices with a spade, and yet where more of the trunk has been preserved some parts are very hard. the trees are, i fancy, beech and oak. could you identify slices if i were to send you some? now it seems to me that here is an opportunity one does not often have of getting some information about the action of sea water on wood, and on the mode in which these vegetable remains may become embedded, etc. etc., and i want to get you to tell me where i can find information on submerged forests in general, so as to see to what points one can best direct one's attention, and to suggest any inquiries that may strike yourself. i do not see how the stumps can occur in this position without direct sinking of the land, and that such a sinking should have occurred tallies very well with some other facts which i have observed as to the nature of the bottom at considerable depths here. we had the jolliest cruise in the world by oxford, warwick, kenilworth, stratford, malvern, ross, and the wye though it was a little rainy, and though my wife's strength sadly failed at times. still she was on the whole much better and stronger than i had any right to expect, and although i get frightened every now and then, yet there can be no doubt that she is steadily though slowly improving. i have no fears for the ultimate result, but her amendment will be a work of time. we have really quite settled down into darby and joan, and i begin to regard matrimony as the normal state of man. it's wonderful how light the house looks when i come back weary with a day's boating to what it used to do. i hope mrs. hooker is well and about again. pray give her our very kind regards, and believe me, my dear hooker, ever yours, t.h. huxley. [at tenby he stayed on through august and september, continuing his occupations of the previous summer, dredging up specimens for his microscope, and working partly for his own investigations, partly for the geological survey. chapter . . - . up to his appointment at the school of mines, huxley's work had been almost entirely morphological, dealing with the invertebrates. his first investigations, moreover, had been directed not to species-hunting, but to working out the real affinities of little known orders, and thereby evolving a philosophical classification from the limbo of "vermes" and "radiata." he had continued the same work by tracing homologies of development in other classes of animals, such as the cephalous mollusca, the articulata, and the brachiopods. on these subjects, also, he had a good deal of correspondence with other investigators of the same cast of mind, and even when he did not carry conviction, the impression made by his arguments may be judged from the words of dr. allman, no mean authority, in a letter of may , :--] i have thought over your arguments again and again, and while i am the more convinced of their ingenuity, originality, and strength, i yet feel ashamed to confess that i too must exclaim "tenax propositi." when was it otherwise in controversy? [other speculations arising out of these researches had been given to the public in the form of lectures, notably that on animal individuality at the royal institution in . but after , paleontology and administrative work began to claim much of the time he would willingly have bestowed upon distinctly zoological research. his lectures on natural history of course demanded a good deal of first-hand investigation, and not only occasional notes in his fragmentary journals, but a vast mass of drawings now preserved at south kensington attest the amount of work he still managed to give to these subjects. but with the exception of the hunterian lectures of , he only published one paper on invertebrates as late as ; and only half a dozen, not counting the belated "oceanic hydrozoa," bear and . the essay on the crayfish did not appear until after he had left jermyn street and paleontology for south kensington. the "method of paleontology," published in , was the first of a long series of papers dealing with fossil creatures, the description of which fell to him as naturalist to the geological survey. by he had published twelve such papers, and by twenty-six more, or thirty-eight in sixteen years. it was a curious irony of fate that led him into this position. he writes in his autobiography that, when sir henry de la beche, the director-general of the geological survey, offered him the post forbes vacated of paleontologist and lecturer on natural history,] i refused the former point blank, and accepted the latter only provisionally, telling sir henry that i did not care for fossils, and that i should give up natural history as soon as i could get a physiological post. but i held the office for thirty-one years, and a large part of my work has been paleontological. [yet the diversion was not without great use. a wide knowledge of paleontology offered a key to many problems that were hotly debated in the years of battle following the publication of the "origin of species" in , as well as providing fresh subject-matter for the lectures in which he continued to give the lay world the results of his thought. on the administrative and official side he laid before himself the organisation of the resources of the museum of practical geology as an educational instrument. this involved several years' work in the arrangement of the specimens, so as to illustrate the paleontological lectures, and the writing of "introductions" to each section of the catalogue, which should be a guide to the students. the "method of paleontology" mentioned above served as the prefatory essay to the whole catalogue, and was reprinted in by the smithsonian institute of washington under the title of "principles and methods of paleontology." this work led to his taking a lively interest in the organisation of museums in general, whether private, such as sir philip egerton's, which he visited in ; local, such as warwick or chester; or central, such as the british museum or that at manchester. with regard to the british museum, the question had arisen of removing the natural history collections from the confined space and dusty surroundings of great russell street. a first memorial on the subject had been signed, not only by many non-scientific persons, but also by a number of botanists, who wished to see the british museum herbarium, etc., combined with the more accessible and more complete collections at kew. owing apparently to official opposition, the natural history sub-committee of the british museum trustees advised a treatment of the botanical department which commended itself to none of the leading botanists. consequently a number of botanists and zoologists took counsel together and drew up a fresh memorial from the strictly scientific point of view. huxley and hooker took an active part in the agitation.] "it is no use," [writes the former to his friend,] "putting any faith in the old buffers, hardened as they are in trespasses and sin." [and again:--] i see nothing for it but for you and i to constitute ourselves into a permanent "committee of public safety," to watch over what is being done and take measures with the advice of others when necessary...as for -- and id genus omne, i have never expected anything but opposition from them. but i don't think it is necessary to trouble one's head about such opposition. it may be annoying and troublesome, but if we are beaten by it we deserve to be. with shall have to wade through oceans of trouble and abuse, but so long as we gain our end, i care not a whistle whether the sweet voices of the scientific mob are with me or against me. [according to huxley's views a complete system demanded a triple museum for each subject, zoology and botany, since geology was sufficiently provided for in jermyn street--one typical or popular, "in which all prominent forms or types of animals or plants, recent or fossil, should be so displayed as to give the public an idea of the vast extent and variety of natural objects, to diffuse a general knowledge of the results obtained by science in their investigation and classification, and to serve as a general introduction to the student in natural science"; the second scientific, "in which collections of all available animals and plants and their parts, whether recent or fossil, and in a sufficient number of specimens, should be disposed conveniently for study, and to which should be exclusively attached an appropriate library, or collection of books and illustrations relating to science, quite independent of any general library"; the third economic, "in which economic products, whether zoological or botanical, with illustrations of the processes by which they are obtained and applied to use, should be so disposed as best to assist the progress of commerce and the arts." it demanded further a zoological and a botanical garden, where the living specimens could be studied. some of these institutions existed, but were not under state control. others were already begun--e.g. that of economic zoology at south kensington; but the value of the botanical collections was minimised by want of concentration, while as to zoology "the british museum contains a magnificent collection of recent and fossil animals, the property of the state, but there is no room for its proper display and no accommodation for its proper study. its official head reports directly neither to the government nor to the governing body of the institution...it is true that the people stroll through the enormous collections of the british museum, but the sole result is that they are dazzled and confused by the multiplicity of unexplained objects, and the man of science is deprived thrice a week of the means of advancing knowledge." the agitation of - bore fruit in due season, and within twenty years the ideal here sketched was to a great extent realised, as any visitor to the natural history museum at south kensington can see for himself. the same principles are reiterated in his letter of january , , to the commissioners of the manchester natural history society, who had asked his advice as to the erection of a museum. but to the principles he adds a number of most practical suggestions as to the actual structure of the building, which are briefly appended in abstract. the complement to this is a letter of , giving advice as to a local museum at chester, and one of describing the ideal catalogue for a geological museum.] january , . the commissioners of the manchester natural history society. scheme for a museum. objects. . the public exhibition of a collection of specimens large enough to illustrate all the most important truths of natural history, but not so extensive as to weary and confuse ordinary visitors. . the accessibility of this collection to the public. . the conservation of all specimens not necessary for the purpose defined in paragraph in a place apart. . the accessibility of all objects contained in the museum to the curator and to scientific students, without interference with the public or by the public. . thorough exclusion of dust and dirt from the specimens. . a provision of space for workrooms, and, if need be, lecture-rooms. principle. a big hall ( x x ) with narrower halls on either side, lighted from the top. the central hall for the public, the others for the curators, etc. the walls, of arches upon piers about feet high, bearing on girders a gallery feet wide in the public room, and feet inches in the curators'. the cases should be larger below, feet deep, and smaller above, feet deep, with glass fronts to the public, and doors on the curators' side. for very large specimens--e.g. a whale--the case could expand into the curators' part without encroaching on the public part, so as to keep the line of windows regular. specimens of the vertebrata, illustrations of physical geography and stratigraphical geology, should be placed below. the invertebrata, botanical and mineralogical specimens in the galleries. the partition to be continued above the galleries to the roof, thus excluding all the dust raised by the public. space for students should be provided in the curators' rooms. storage should be ample. a museum of this size gives twice as much area for exhibition purposes as that offered by all the cases in the present museum. athenaeum club, december , . dear sir, i regret that your letter has but just come into my hands, so that my reply cannot be in time for your meeting, which, i understand you to say, was to be held yesterday. i have no hesitation whatever in expressing the opinion that, except in the case of large and wealthy towns (and even in their case primarily), a local museum should be exactly what its name implies, namely "local"--illustrating local geology, local botany, local zoology, and local archaeology. such a museum, if residents who are interested in these sciences take proper pains, may be brought to a great degree of perfection and be unique of its kind. it will tell both natives and strangers exactly what they want to know, and possess great scientific interest and importance. whereas the ordinary lumber-room of clubs from new zealand, hindoo idols, sharks' teeth, mangy monkeys, scorpions, and conch shells--who shall describe the weary inutility of it? it is really worse than nothing, because it leads the unwary to look for the objects of science elsewhere than under their noses. what they want to know is that their "america is here," as wilhelm meister has it. yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. alfred walker, esq., nant-y-glyn, colwyn bay. to the reverend p. brodie of warwick. jermyn street, october , . my dear mr. brodie, i am sorry to say that i can as yet send you no catalogue of ours. the remodelling of our museum is only just completed, and only the introductory part of my catalogue is written. when it is printed you shall have an early copy. if i may make a suggestion i should say that a catalogue of your museum for popular use should commence with a sketch of the topography and stratigraphy of the county, put into the most intelligible language, and illustrated by reference to mineral specimens in the cases, and to the localities where sections showing the superposition of such and such beds is to be seen. after that i think should come a list of the most remarkable and interesting fossils, with reference to the cases where they are to be seen; and under the head of each a brief popular account of the kind of animal or plant which the thing was when alive, its probable habits, and its meaning and importance as a member of the great series of successive forms of life. yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the reorganisation of the course of studies at jermyn street, fully sketched out in the notebook, involved two very serious additions to his work over and above what was required of him by his appointment as professor. he found his students to a great extent lacking in the knowledge of general principles necessary to the comprehension of the special work before them. to enable them to make the best use of his regular lectures, he offered them in addition a preliminary evening course of nine lectures each january, which he entitled "an introduction to the study of the collection of fossils in the museum of practical geology." these lectures summed up what he afterwards named physiography, together with a general sketch of fossils and their nature, the classification of animals and plants, their distribution at various epochs, and the principles on which they are constructed, illustrated by the examination of some animal, such as a lobster. the regular lectures, fifty-seven in number, ran from february to april and from april to june, with fortnightly examinations during the latter period, six in number. i take the scheme from his notebook:--] "after prolegomena, the physiology and morphology of lobster and dove; then through invertebrates, anodon, actinia, and vorticella protozoa, to molluscan types. insects, then vertebrates. supplemented paleontologically by the demonstrations of the selected types in the cases; twelve paleozoic, twelve mesozoic and cainozoic," [by his assistants.] "to make the course complete there should be added . a series of lectures on species, practical discrimination and description, modification by conditions and distribution; . lectures on the elements of botany and fossil plants." [this reorganisation of his course went hand in hand with his utilisation of the jermyn street museum for paleontological teaching, and all through he was busily working at the explanatory catalogue. moreover, in he had begun at jermyn street his regular courses of lectures to working men--lectures which impressed those qualified to judge as surpassing even his class lectures. year after year he gave the artisans of his best, on the principle enunciated thus early in a letter of february , , to dyster:--] i enclose a prospectus of some people's lectures (popular lectures i hold to be an abomination unto the lord) i am about to give here. i want the working classes to understand that science and her ways are great facts for them--that physical virtue is the base of all other, and that they are to be clean and temperate and all the rest--not because fellows in black with white ties tell them so, but because these are plain and patent laws of nature which they must obey "under penalties." i am sick of the dilettante middle class, and mean to try what i can do with these hard-handed fellows who live among facts. you will be with me, i know. [and again on may , :--] i am glad your lectures went off so well. they were better attended than mine [the preliminary course], although in point of earnestness and attention my audience was all i could wish. i am now giving a course of the same kind to working men exclusively--one of what we call our series of "working men's lectures," consisting of six given in turn by each professor. the theatre holds , and is crammed full. i believe in the fustian, and can talk better to it than to any amount of gauze and saxony; and to a fustian audience (but to that only) i would willingly give some when i come to tenby. [the corresponding movement set going by f.d. maurice also claimed his interest, and in he gave his first address at the working men's college to an audience, as he notes, of some fifty persons, including maurice himself. other work of importance was connected with the royal institution. he had been elected to deliver the triennial course as fullerian professor, and for his subject in - chose physiology and comparative anatomy; in , the principles of biology. he was extremely glad of the additional "grist to the mill" brought in by these lectures. as he wrote in :--] i have good reason to know what difference a hundred a year makes when your income is not more than four or five times that. i remember when i was candidate for the fullerian professorship some twenty-three years ago, a friend of mine asked a wealthy manager to support me. he promised, but asked the value of the appointment, and when told, said, "well, but what's the use of a hundred a year to him?" i suppose he paid his butler that. [a further attempt to organise scientific work throughout the country and make its results generally known, dates from this time. huxley, hooker, and tyndall had discussed, early in , the possibility of starting a "scientific review," which should do for science what the "quarterly" or the "westminster" did for literature. the scheme was found not to be feasible at the time, though it was revived in another form in ; so in the meanwhile it was arranged that science should be laid before the public every fortnight, through the medium of a scientific column in the "saturday review." the following letter bears on this proposal:--] april , . my dear hooker, before the dawn of the proposal for the ever-memorable though not-to-be "scientific review," there had been some talk of one or two of us working the public up for science through the "saturday review." maskelyne (you know him, i suppose) was the suggester of the scheme, and undertook to talk to the "saturday" people about it. i think the whole affair had dropped through, but yesterday maskelyne came to me and to ramsay with definite propositions from the "saturday" editor. he undertakes to put in a scientific article in the intermediate part between leaders and reviews once a fortnight if we will supply him. he is not to mutilate or to alter, but to take what he gets and be thankful. the writers to select their own subjects. now the question is, will seven or eight of us, representing different sciences, join together and undertake to supply at least one article in three months? once a fortnight would want a minimum of six articles in three months, so that if there were six, each man must supply one. sylvester is talked of for mathematics. i am going to write to tyndall about doing physics. maskelyne and perhaps frankland will take chemistry and mineralogy. you and i might do biology; ramsay, geology; smyth, technology. this looks to me like a very feasible plan, not asking too much of anyone, and yet giving all an opportunity of saying what he has to say. besides this the "saturday" would be glad to get reviews from us. if all those mentioned agree to join, we will meet somewhere and discuss plans. let me have a line to say what you think, and believe me, ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in he read three papers at the geological and two at the linnean; he lectured (february ) on fish and fisheries at south kensington, and on may gave a friday evening discourse at the royal institution on "the phenomena of gemmation." he wrote an article for "todd's cyclopaedia," on the "tegumentary organs," an elaborate paper, as sir m. foster says, on a histological theme, to which, as to others of the same class on the teeth and the corpuscular tactus ("q. j. micr. science" - ), he had been "led probably by the desire, which only gradually and through lack of fulfilment left him, to become a physiologist rather than a naturalist." no less important was his more general work for science. physiological study in england at this time was dominated by transcendental notions. to put first principles on a sound experimental basis was the aim of the new leaders of scientific thought. to this end huxley made two contributions in --one on the general subject of the cell theory, the other on the particular question of the development of the skull. "in a striking 'review of the cell theory,'" says sir m. foster, "which appeared in the "british and foreign medical review" in , a paper which more than one young physiologist at the time read with delight, and which even to-day may be studied with no little profit, he, in this subject as in others, drove the sword of rational inquiry through the heart of conceptions, metaphysical and transcendental, but dominant." of this article professor e. ray lankester also writes:-- ...indeed it is a fundamental study in morphology. the extreme interest and importance of the views put forward in that article may be judged of by the fact that although it is forty years since it was published, and although our knowledge of cell structure has made immense progress during those forty years, yet the main contention of that article, namely that cells are not the cause but the result of organisation--in fact, are, as he says, to the tide of life what the line of shells and weeds on the seashore is to the tide of the living sea--is even now being re-asserted, and in a slightly modified form is by very many cytologists admitted as having more truth in it than the opposed view and its later outcomes, to the effect that the cell is the unit of life in which and through which alone living matter manifests its activities. the second was his croonian lecture of , "on the theory of the vertebrate skull," in which he demonstrated from the embryological researches of rathke and others, that after the first step the whole course of development in the segments of the skull proceeded on different lines from that of the vertebral column; and that oken's imaginative theory of the skull as modified vertebrae, logically complete down to a strict parallel between the subsidiary head-bones and the limbs attached to the spine, outran the facts of a definite structure common to all vertebrates which he had observed. ("following up rathke, he strove to substitute for the then dominant fantastic doctrines of the homologies of the cranial elements advocated by owen, sounder views based on embryological evidence. he exposed the futility of attempting to regard the skull as a series of segments, in each of which might be recognised all the several parts of a vertebra, and pointed out the errors of trusting to superficial resemblances of shape and position. he showed, by the history of the development of each, that, though both skull and vertebral column are segmented, the one and the other, after an early stage, are fashioned on lines so different as to exclude all possibility of regarding the detailed features of each as mere modifications of a type repeated along the axis of the body. 'the spinal column and the skull start from the same primitive condition, whence they immediately begin to diverge.' 'it may be true to say that there is a primitive identity of structure between the spinal or vertebral column and the skull; but it is no more true that the adult skull is a modified vertebral column than it would be to affirm that the vertebral column is modified skull.' this lecture marked an epoch in england in vertebrate morphology, and the views enunciated in it carried forward, if somewhat modified, as they have been, not only by huxley's subsequent researches and by those of his disciples, but especially by the splendid work of gegenbauer, are still, in the main, the views of the anatomists of to-day."--sir m. foster, royal society obituary notice of t.h. huxley.) with the demolition of oken's theory fell the superstructure raised by its chief supporter, owen, "archetype" and all. it was undoubtedly a bold step to challenge thus openly the man who was acknowledged as the autocrat of science in britain. moreover, though he had long felt that on his own subjects he was owen's master, to begin a controversy was contrary to his deliberate practice. but now he had the choice of submitting to arbitrary dictation or securing himself from further aggressions by dealing a blow which would weaken the authority of the aggressor. for the growing antagonism between him and owen had come to a head early in the preceding year, when the latter, taking advantage of the permission to use the lecture-theatre at jermyn street for the delivery of a paleontological course, unwarrantably assumed the title of professor of paleontology at the school of mines, to the obvious detriment of huxley's position there. his explanations not satisfying the council of the school of mines, huxley broke off all personal intercourse with him. chapter . . - . throughout this period his health was greatly tried by the strain of his work and life in town. headache! headache! is his repeated note in the early part of , and in we find such entries as:--] "february .--used up. hypochondrical and bedevilled." "ditto ." " .--not good for much." " .--toothache, incapable all day." [and again:--] "march . voiceless." " .--missed lecture." [and] "april .--unable to go out." [he would come in thoroughly used up after lecturing twice on the same day, as frequently happened, and lie wearily on one sofa; while his wife, whose health was wretched, matched him on the other. yet he would go down to a lecture feeling utterly unable to deliver it, and, once started, would carry it through successfully--at what cost of nervous energy was known only to those two at home. but there was another branch of work, that for the geological survey, which occasionally took him out of london, and the open-air occupation and tramping from place to place did him no little good. thus, through the greater part of september and october he ranged the coasts of the bristol channel from weston to clovelly, and from tenby to swansea, preparing a "report on the recent changes of level in the bristol channel."] "you can't think," [he writes from braunton on october ,] "how well i am, so long as i walk eight or ten miles a day and don't work too much, but i find fifteen or sixteen miles my limit for comfort." [for many years after this his favourite mode of recruiting from the results of a spell of overwork was to take a short walking tour with a friend. in april he is off for a week to cromer; in he goes with busk and hooker for christmas week to snowdon; another time he is manoeuvred off by his wife and friends to switzerland with tyndall. in switzerland he spent his summer holidays both in and , in the latter year examining the glaciers with tyndall scientifically, as well as seeking pleasure by the ascent of mont blanc. as fruits of this excursion were published late in the same year, his "letter to mr. tyndall on the structure of glacier ice" ("phil. mag." ), and the paper in the "philosophical transactions of the royal society," which appeared--much against his will--in the joint names of himself and tyndall. of these he wrote in in answer to an inquiry on the subject:--] by the observations on glaciers i imagine you refer to a short paper published in "phil. mag." that embodied results of a little bit of work of my own. the glacier paper in the "phil. trans." is essentially and in all respects professor tyndall's. he took up glacier work in consequence of a conversation at my table, and we went out to switzerland together, and of course talked over the matter a good deal. however, except for my friend's insistence, i should not have allowed my name to appear as joint author, and i doubt whether i ought to have yielded. but he is a masterful man and over-generous. [and in a letter to hooker he writes:--] by the way, you really must not associate me with tyndall and talk about our theory. my sole merit in the matter (and for that i do take some credit) is to have set him at work at it, for the only suggestion i made, namely that the veined structure was analogous to his artificial cleavage phenomena, has turned out to be quite wrong. tyndall fairly made me put my name to that paper, and would have had it first if i would have let him, but if people go on ascribing to me any share in his admirable work i shall have to make a public protest. all i am content to share is the row, if there is to be one. [the following letters to hooker and tyndall touch upon his swiss trips of and :--] berne, september , . i send you a line hence, having forgotten to write from interlaken, whence we departed this morning. the weissthor expedition was the most successful thing you can imagine. we reached the riffelberg in / hours, the first six being the hardest work i ever had in my life in the climbing way, and the last five carrying us through the most glorious sight i ever witnessed. during the latter part of the day there was not a cloud on the whole monte rosa range, so you may imagine what the matterhorn and the rest of them looked like from the wide plain of neve just below the weissthor. it was quite a new sensation, and i would not have missed it for any amount; and besides this i had an opportunity of examining the neve at a very great height. a regularly stratified section, several hundred feet high, was exposed on the cima di jazi, and i was convinced that the weissthor would be a capital spot for making observations on the neve and on other correlative matters. there are no difficulties in the way of getting up to it from the zermatt side, tough job as it is from macugnaga, and we might readily rig a tent under shelter of the ridge. that would lick old saussure into fits. all the zermatt guides put the s. theodul pass far beneath the weissthor in point of difficulty; and you may tell mrs. hooker that they think the s. theodul easier than the monte moro. the best of the joke was that i lost my way in coming down the riffelberg to zermatt the same evening, so that altogether i had a long day of it. the next day i walked from zermatt to visp (recovering baedeker by the way), but my shoes were so knocked to pieces that i got a blister on my heel. next day voiture to susten, and then over gemmi to kandersteg, and on thursday my foot was so queer i was glad to get a retour to interlaken. i found most interesting and complete evidences of old moraine deposits all the way down the leuk valley into the rhine valley, and i believe those little hills beyond susten are old terminal moraines too. on the other side i followed moraines down to frutigen, and great masses of glacial gravel with boulders, nearly to the lake of thum. my wife is better, but anything but strong. chamounix, august , . my wife sends me intelligence of the good news you were so kind as to communicate to her. i need not tell you how rejoiced i am that everything has gone on well, and that your wife is safe and well. offer her my warmest congratulations and good wishes. i have made one matrimonial engagement for noel already, otherwise i would bespeak the hand of the young lady for him. it has been raining cats and dogs these two days, so that we have been unable to return to our headquarters at the montanvert which we left on wednesday for the purpose of going up mont blanc. tyndall (who has become one of the most active and daring mountaineers you ever saw--so that we have christened him "cat"; and our guide said the other day "il va plus fort qu'un mouton. il faut lui mettre une sonnette") had set his heart on the performance of this feat (of course with purely scientific objects), and had equally made up his mind not to pay five and twenty pounds sterling for the gratification. so we had one guide and took two porters in addition as far as the grande mulets. he is writing to you, and will tell you himself what happened to those who reached the top--to wit, himself, hirst, and the guide. i found that three days in switzerland had not given me my swiss legs, and consequently i remained at the grands mulets, all alone in my glory, and for some eight hours in a great state of anxiety, for the three did not return for about that period after they were due. i was there on a pinnacle like st. simon stylites, and nearly as dirty as that worthy saint must have been, but without any of his other claims to angelic assistance, so that i really did not see, if they had fallen into a crevasse, how i was to help either them or myself. they came back at last, just as it was growing dusk, to my inexpressible relief, and the next day we came down here--such a set of dirty, sun-burnt, snow-blind wretches as you never saw. we heartily wished you were with us. what we shall do next i neither know nor care, as i have placed myself entirely under commodore tyndall's orders; but i suppose we shall be three or four days more at the montanvert, and then make the tour of mont blanc. i have tied up six pounds sterling in one end of my purse, and when i have no more than that i shall come back. altogether i don't feel in the least like the father of a family; no more would you if you were here. the habit of carrying a pack, i suppose, makes the "quiver full of arrows" feel light. esplanade, deal, september , . my dear tyndall, i don't consider myself returned until next wednesday, when the establishment of no. will reopen on its accustomed scale of magnificence, but i don't mind letting you know i am in the flesh and safe back. the tour round mont blanc was a decided success; in fact, i had only to regret you were not with me. the grand glacier of the allee blanche and the view of mont blanc from the valley of aosta were alone worth all the trouble. i had only one wet day, and that i spent on the brenon glacier; for, in spite of all good resolutions to the contrary, i cannot resist poking into the glaciers whenever i have a chance. you will be interested in my results, which we shall soon, i hope, talk on together at length. as i suspected, forbes has made a most egregious blunder. what he speaks of and figures as the "structure" of the brenon is nothing but a peculiar arrangement of entirely superficial dirt bands, dependent on the structure, but not it. the true structure is singularly beautiful and well marked in the brenon, the blue veins being very close set, and of course wholly invisible from a distance of a hundred yards, which is less than that of the spot whence forbes' view of the (supposed) structure is taken. i saw another wonderful thing in la brenon. about the middle of its length there is a step like this of about or feet in height. in the lower part (b) the structural planes are vertical; in the upper (a) they dip at a considerable angle. i thought i had found a case of unconformability, indicating a slip of one portion of the glacier over another, but when i came to examine the intermediate region (x) carefully, i found the structural planes at every intermediate angle, and consequently a perfect transition from the one to the other. i returned by aosta, the great st. bernard, and the col de balme. old simond was quite affectionate in his discourse about you, and seemed quite unhappy because you would not borrow his money. he had received your remittance, and asked me to tell you so. he was distressed at having forgotten to get a certificate from you, so i said in mine i was quite sure you were well satisfied with him. on our journey he displayed his characteristic qualities, je ne sais pas being the usual answer to any topographical inquiries with a total absence of nerve, and a general conviction that distances were very great and that the weather would be bad. however, we got on very well, and i was sorry to part with him. i came home by way of neuchatel, paying a visit to the pierre a bot, which i have long wished to see. my financial calculations were perfect in theory, but nearly broke down in practice, inasmuch as i was twice obliged to travel first-class when i calculated on second. the result was that my personal expenses between paris and london amounted to . !! and i arrived at my own house hungry and with a remainder of a few centimes. i should think that your fate must have been similar. many thanks for writing to my wife. she sends her kindest remembrances to you. ever yours, t.h.h. [the year was the last in which huxley apparently had time to go so far in journal-writing as to draw up a balance-sheet at the year's end of work done and work undone. though he finds] "as usual a lamentable difference between agenda and acta; many things proposed to be done not done, and many things not thought of finished," [still there is enough noted to satisfy most energetic people. mention has already been made of his lectures--sixty-six at jermyn street, twelve fullerian, and as many more to prepare for the next year's course; seven to working men, and one at the royal institution, together with the rearrangement of specimens at the jermyn street museum, and the preparation of the explanatory catalogue, which this year was published to the extent of the introduction and the tertiary collections. to these may be added examinations at the london university, where he had succeeded dr. carpenter as examiner in physiology and comparative anatomy in , reviews, translations, a report on deep sea soundings, and ten scientific memoirs. the most important of the unfinished work consists of the long-delayed "oceanic hydrozoa," the "manual of comparative anatomy," and a report on fisheries. the rest of the unfinished programme shows the usual commixture of technical studies in anatomy and paleontology, with essays on the philosophical and educational bearings of his work. on the one hand are memoirs of daphnia, nautilus, and the herring, the affinities of the paleozoic crustacea, the ascidian catalogue and positive histology; on the other, the literature of the drift, a review of the present state of philosophical anatomy, and a scheme for arranging the explanatory catalogue to serve as an introductory textbook to the jermyn street lectures and the paleontological demonstrations. here, too, would fall a proposed "letter on the study of comparative anatomy," to do for those subjects what henslow had done in his "letter" for botany. in addition to the fact of his being forced to take up paleontology, it was perhaps the philosophic breadth of view with which he regarded his subject at any time, and the desire of getting to the bottom of each subsidiary problem arising from it, that made him for many years seem constantly to spring aside from his own subject, to fly off at a tangent from the line in which he was assured of unrivalled success did he but devote to it his undivided powers. but he was prepared to endure the charge of desultoriness with equanimity. in part, he was still studying the whole field of biological science before he would claim to be a master in one department; in part, he could not yet tell to what post he might succeed when he left--as he fully expected to leave--the professorship at jermyn street. one characteristic of his early papers should not pass unnoticed. this was his familiarity with the best that had been written on his subjects abroad as well as in england. thoroughness in this respect was rendered easier by the fact that he read french and german with almost as much facility as his mother tongue. "it is true, of course, that scientific men read french and german before the time of huxley; but the deliberate consultation of all the authorities available has been maintained in historical succession since huxley's earliest papers, and was absent in the papers of his early contemporaries." (p. chalmers mitchell in "natural science" august .) about this time his activity in several branches of science began to find recognition from scientific societies at home and abroad. in he was elected honorary member of the microscopical society of giessen; and in the same year, of a more important body, the academy of breslau (imperialis academia caesariana naturae curiosum). he writes to hooker:--] waverley place, april , . having subsided from standing upon my head--which was the immediate causation of your correspondence about the co-extension imperialis academia caesariana naturae curiosum (don't i know their thundering long title well!)--i have to say that i was born on the th of may of the year , whereby i have now more or less mis-spent thirty-one years and a bittock, nigh on thirty-two. furthermore, my locus natalis is ealing, in the county of middlesex. upon my word, it is very obliging of the "curious naturals," and i must say wholly surprising and unexpected. i shall hold up my head immensely to-morrow when (blessed be the lord) i give my last fullerian. among other things, i am going to take cuvier's crack case of the 'possum of montmartre as an illustration of my views. i wondered what had become of you, but the people have come talking about me this last lecture or two, so i supposed you had erupted to kew. my glacier article is out; tell me what you think of it some day. i wrote a civil note to forbes yesterday, charging myself with my crime, and i hope that is the end of the business. [principal james forbes, with whose theory of glaciers huxley and tyndall disagreed.] my wife is mending slowly, and if she were here would desire to be remembered to you. [in december he became a fellow of the linnean, and the following month not only fellow but secretary of the geological society. in also he was elected to the athenaeum club under rule , which provides that the committee shall yearly elect a limited number of persons distinguished in art, science, or letters. his proposer was sir r. murchison, who wrote:-- athenaeum, january . my dear huxley, i had a success as to you that i never had or heard of before. nineteen persons voted, and of these eighteen voted for you and no one against you. you, of course, came in at the head of the poll; no other having, i.e. cobden, more than eleven. yours well satisfied, rod. i. murchison. [from this time forth he corresponded with many foreign men of science; in these years particularly with victor carus, lacaze duthiers, kolliker, and de quatrefages, in reference to their common interest in the study of the invertebrates. at home, the year opened very brightly for huxley with the birth of his first child, a son, on the eve of the new year. a christmas child, the boy was named noel, and lived four happy years to be the very sunshine of home, the object of passionate devotion, whose sudden loss struck deeper and more ineffaceably than any other blow that befell huxley during all his life. as he sat alone that december night, in the little room that was his study in the house in waverley place, waiting for the event that was to bring him so much happiness and so much sorrow, he made a last entry in his journal, full of hope and resolution. in the blank space below follows a note of four years later, when "the ground seemed cut from under his feet," yet written with restraint and without bitterness.] december , . ... - - must still be "lehrjahre" to complete training in principles of histology, morphology, physiology, zoology, and geology by monographic work in each department. will then see me well grounded and ready for any special pursuits in either of these branches. it is impossible to map out beforehand how this must be done. i must seize opportunities as they come, at the risk of the reputation of desultoriness. in i may fairly look forward to fifteen or twenty years "meisterjahre," and with the comprehensive views my training will have given me, i think it will be possible in that time to give a new and healthier direction to all biological science. to smite all humbugs, however big; to give a nobler tone to science; to set an example of abstinence from petty personal controversies, and of toleration for everything but lying; to be indifferent as to whether the work is recognised as mine or not, so long as it is done:--are these my aims? will show. willst du dir ein hubsch leben zimmern, musst dich ans vergangene nicht bekummern; und ware dir auch was verloren, musst immer thun wie neugeboren. was jeder tag will, sollst du fragen; was jeder tag will, wird er sagen. musst dich an eigenem thun ergotzen; was andere thun, das wirst du schatzen. besonders keinen menschen hassen und das ubrige gott uberlassen. [wilt shape a noble life? then cast no backward glances to the past. and what if something still be lost? act as new-born in all thou dost. what each day wills, that shalt thou ask; each day will tell its proper task; what others do, that shalt thou prize, in thine own work thy guerdon lies. this above all: hate none. the rest--leave it to god. he knoweth best.] half-past ten at night. waiting for my child. i seem to fancy it the pledge that all these things shall be. born five minutes before twelve. thank god. new year's day, . september , . and the same child, our noel, our first-born, after being for nearly four years our delight and our joy, was carried off by scarlet fever in forty-eight hours. this day week he and i had a great romp together. on friday his restless head, with its bright blue eyes and tangled golden hair, tossed all day upon his pillow. on saturday night the fifteenth, i carried him here into my study, and laid his cold still body here where i write. here too on sunday night came his mother and i to that holy leave-taking. my boy is gone, but in a higher and better sense than was in my mind when i wrote four years ago what stands above--i feel that my fancy has been fulfilled. i say heartily and without bitterness--amen, so let it be. chapter . . - . [the programme laid down in was steadily carried out through a great part of . huxley published nine monographs, chiefly on fossil reptilia, in the proceedings of the geological society and of the geological survey, one on the armour of crocodiles at the linnean, and "observations on the development of some parts of the skeleton of fishes," in the "journal of microscopical science." among the former was a paper on stagonolepis, a creature from the elgin beds, which had previously been ranked among the fishes. from some new remains, which he worked out of the stone with his own hands, huxley made out that this was a reptile closely allied to the crocodiles; and from this and the affinities of another fossil, hyperodapedon, from neighbouring beds, determined the geological age to which the elgin beds belonged. a good deal turned upon the nature of the scales from the back and belly of this animal, and a careful comparison with the scales of modern crocodiles--a subject till then little investigated--led to the paper at the linnean already mentioned. the paper on fish development was mainly based upon dissections of the young of the stickleback. fishes had been divided into two classes according as their tails are developed evenly on either side of the line of the spine, which was supposed to continue straight through the centre of the tail, or lopsided, with one tail fin larger than the other. this investigation showed that the apparently even development was only an extreme case of lopsidedness, the continuation of the "chorda," which gives rise to the spine, being at the top of the upper fin, and both fins being developed on the same side of it. lopsidedness as such, therefore, was not to be regarded as an embryological character in ancient fishes; what might be regarded as such was the absence of a bony sheath to the end of the "chorda" found in the more developed fishes. further traces of this bony structure were shown to exist, among other piscine resemblances, in the amphibia. finally the embryological facts now observed in the development of the bones of the skull were of great importance,] "as they enable us to understand, on the one hand, the different modifications of the palato-suspensorial apparatus in fishes, and on the other hand the relations of the components of this apparatus to the corresponding parts in other vertebrata," [fishes, reptiles, and mammals presenting a well-marked series of gradations in respect to this point. this part of the paper had grown out of the investigations begun for the essay on the vertebrate skull, just as that on jacare and caiman from inquiry into the scales of stagonolepis. thus he was still able to devote most of his time to original research. but though in his letter of march , , below, he says,] "i never write for the reviews now, as original work is much more to my taste," [it appears from jottings in his notebook, such as "whewell's 'history of scientific ideas,' as a peg on which to hang cuvier article," [that he again found it necessary to supplement his income by writing. he was still examiner at london university, and delivered six lectures on animal motion at the london institution and another at warwick. this lecture he had offered to give at the warwick museum as some recognition of the willing help he had received from the assistants when he came down to examine certain fossils there. on the way he visited rolleston at oxford. the knowledge of oxford life gained from this and a later visit led him to write:--] the more i see of the place the more glad i am that i elected to stay in london. i see much to admire and like; but i am more and more convinced that it would not suit me as a residence. [two more important points remain to be mentioned among the occupations of the year. in january huxley was elected secretary of the geological society, and with this office began a form of administrative work in the scientific world which ceased only with his resignation of the presidency of the royal society in . part of the summer huxley spent in the north. on august he went to lamlash bay in arran. here dr. carpenter had, in , discovered a convenient cottage on holy island--the only one, indeed, on the island--well suited for naturalists; the bay was calm and suitable both for the dredge and for keeping up a vivarium. he proposed that either the survey should rent the whole island at a cost of some pounds sterling, or, failing this, that he would take the cottage himself, if huxley would join him for two or three seasons and share the expense. huxley laid the plan before sir r. murchison, the head of the survey, who consented to try the plan for a course of years, during three months in each year. "but," [he added,] "keep it experimental; for there are no useful fisheries such as delight lord stanley." [here, then, with an ascent of goatfell for variety on the st, a month was passed in trawling, and experiments on the spawning of the herring appear to have been continued for him during the winter in bute. on the th huxley left lamlash for a trip through central and southern scotland, continuing his geological work for the survey; and wound up by attending the meeting of the british association at aberdeen, leaving his wife and the three children at aberdour, on the fifeshire coast. from aberdeen, where prince albert was president of the association, huxley writes on september :--] owen's brief address on giving up the presidential chair was exceedingly good...i shall be worked like a horse here. there are all sorts of new materials from elgin, besides other things, and i daresay i shall have to speak frequently. in point of attendance and money this is the best meeting the association ever had. in point of science, we shall see...tyndall has accepted the physical chair with us, at which i am greatly delighted. [in this connection the following letter to tyndall is interesting:--] aberdour, fife, n. b., september , . my dear tyndall, i met faraday on loch lomond yesterday, and learned from him that you had returned, whereby you are a great sinner for not having written to me. faraday told me you were all sound, wind and limb, and had carried out your object, which was good to hear. have you had any letter from sir roderick? if not, pray call in jermyn street and see reeks as soon as possible. [mr. trenham reeks, who died in , was registrar of the school of mines, and curator and librarian of the museum of practical geology.] the thing i have been hoping for for years past has come about,--stokes having resigned the physical chair in our place, in consequence of his appointment to the cambridge university commission. this unfortunately occurred only after our last meeting for the session, and after i had left town, but reeks wrote to me about it at once. i replied as soon as i received his letter, and told him that i would take upon myself the responsibility of saying that you would accept the chair if it were offered you. i thought i was justified in this by various conversations we have had; and, at any rate, i felt sure that it was better that i should get into a mess than that you should lose the chance. i know that sir roderick has written to you, but i imagine the letter has gone to chamounix, so pray put yourself into communication with reeks at once. you know very well that the having you with us at jermyn street is a project that has long been dear to my heart, partly on your own account, but largely for the interest of the school. i earnestly hope that there is no impediment in the way of your coming to us. how i am minded towards you, you ought to know by this time; but i can assure you that all the rest of us will receive you with open arms. of that i am quite sure. let me have a line to know your determination. i am on tenterhooks till the thing is settled. can't you come up this way as you go to aberdeen? ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--i thought i might mention the jermyn street matter to faraday privately, and did so. he seemed pleased that the offer had been made. [the acceptance of the lectureship at the school of mines brought tyndall into the closest contact with huxley for the next nine years, until he resigned his lectureship in on succeeding faraday as superintendent of the royal institution. on september he writes:--] yesterday owen and i foregathered in section d. he read a very good and important paper, and i got up afterwards and spoke exactly as i thought about it, and praising many parts of it strongly. in his reply he was unco civil and complimentary, so that the people who had come in hopes of a row were (as i intended they should be) disappointed. [a number of miscellaneous letters of this period are here grouped together.] waverley place, january , . my dear hooker, ...i wish you wouldn't be apologetic about criticism from people who have a right to criticise. i always look upon any criticism as a compliment, not but what the old adam in t.h.h. will arise and fight vigorously against all impugnment, and irrespective of all odds in the way of authority, but that is the way of the beast. why i value your and tyndall's and darwin's friendship so much is, among other things, that you all pitch into me when necessary. you may depend upon it, however blue i may look when in the wrong, it's wrath with myself and nobody else. [to his sister.] the government school of mines, jermyn street, march , . my dearest lizzie, it is a month since your very welcome letter reached me. i had every inclination and every intention to answer it at once, but the wear and tear of incessant occupation (for your letter arrived in the midst of my busiest time) has, i will not say deprived me of the leisure, but of that tone of mind which one wants for writing a long letter. i fully understand--no one should be better able to comprehend--how the same causes may operate on you, but do not be silent so long again; it is bad for both of us. i have loved but few people in my life, and am not likely to care for any more unless it be my children. i desire therefore rather to knit more firmly than to loosen the old ties, and of these which is older or stronger than ours? don't let us drift asunder again. your letter came just after the birth of my second child, a little girl. i registered her to-day in the style and title of jessie oriana huxley. the second name is a family name of my wife's and not, as you might suppose, taken from tennyson. you will know why my wife and i chose the first. we could not make you a godmother, as my wife's mother is one, and a friend of ours had long since applied for the other vacancy, but perhaps this is a better tie than that meaningless formality. my little son is fifteen months old; a fair-haired, blue-eyed, stout little trojan, very like his mother. he looks out on the world with bold confident eyes and open brow, as if he were its master. we shall try to make him a better man than his father. as for the little one, i am told she is pretty, and slavishly admit the fact in the presence of mother and nurse, but between ourselves i don't see it. to my carnal eyes her nose is the image of mine, and you know what that means. for though wandering up and down the world and work have begun to sow a little silver in my hair, they have by no means softened the outlines of that remarkable feature. you want to know what i am and where i am--well, here's a list of titles. t.h.h., professor of natural history, government school of mines, jermyn street; naturalist to the geological survey; curator of the paleontological collections (non-official maid-of-all-work in natural science to the government); examiner in physiology and comparative anatomy to the university of london; fullerian professor of physiology to the royal institution (but that's just over); f.r.s., f.g.s., etc. member of a lot of societies and clubs, all of which cost him a mint of money. considered a rising man and not a bad fellow by his friends--per contra greatly over-estimated and a bitter savage critic by his enemies. perhaps they are both right. i have a high standard of excellence and am no respecter of persons, and i am afraid i show the latter peculiarity rather too much. an internecine feud rages between owen and myself (more's the pity) partly on this account, partly from other causes. this is the account any third person would give you of what i am and of what i am doing. he would probably add that i was very ambitious and desirous of occupying a high place in the world's estimation. therein, however, he would be mistaken. an income sufficient to place me above care and anxiety, and free scope to work, are the only things i have ever wished for or striven for. but one is obliged to toil long and hard for these, and it is only now that they are coming within my grasp. i gave up the idea of going to edinburgh because i doubted whether leaving london was wise. recently i have been tempted to put up for a good physiological chair which is to be established at oxford; but the government propose to improve my position at the school of mines, and there is every probability that i shall now permanently remain in london. indeed, it is high time that i should settle down to one line of work. hitherto, as you see by the somewhat varied list of my duties, etc., above, i have been ranging over different parts of a very wide field. but this apparent desultoriness has been necessary, for i knew not for what branch of science i should eventually have to declare myself. there are very few appointments open to men of science in this country, and one must take what one can get and be thankful. my health was very bad some years ago, and i had great fear of becoming a confirmed dyspeptic, but thanks to the pedestrian tours in the alps i have taken for the past two years, i am wonderfully better this session, and feel capable of any amount of work. it was in the course of one of these trips that i went, as you have rightly heard, half way up mont blanc. but i was not in training and stuck at the grands mulets, while my three companions went on. i spent seventeen hours alone on that grand pinnacle, the latter part of the time in great anxiety, for i feared my friends were lost; and as i had no guide my own neck would have been in considerable jeopardy in endeavouring to return amidst the maze of crevasses of the glacier des bois. but it was glorious weather and the grandest scenery in the world. in the previous year i saw much of the bernese and monte rosa country, journeying with a great friend of mine well known as a natural philosopher, tyndall, and partly seeking health and partly exploring the glaciers. you will find an article of mine on that subject in the "westminster review" for . i used at one time to write a good deal for that review, principally the quarterly notice of scientific books. but i never write for the reviews now, as original work is much more to my taste. the articles you refer to are not mine, as, indeed, you rightly divined. the only considerable book i have translated is kolliker's histology--in conjunction with mr. busk, an old friend of mine. all translation and article writing is weary work, and i never do it except for filthy lucre. lecturing i do not like much better; though one way or another i have to give about sixty or seventy a year. now then, i think that is enough about my "ich." you shall have a photographic image of him and my wife and child as soon as i can find time to have them done... eldon place, broadstairs, september , . my dear hooker, i am glad mrs. hooker has found rest for the sole of her foot. i returned her tyndall's letter yesterday. wallace's impetus seems to have set darwin going in earnest, and i am rejoiced to hear we shall learn his views in full, at last. i look forward to a great revolution being effected. depend upon it, in natural history, as in everything else, when the english mind fully determines to work a thing out, it will do it better than any other. i firmly believe in the advent of an english epoch in science and art, which will lick the augustan (which, by the bye, had neither science nor art in our sense, but you know what i mean) into fits. so hooray, in the first place, for the genera plantarum. i can quite understand the need of a new one, and i am right glad you have undertaken it. it seems to me to be in all respects the sort of work for you, and exactly adapted to your environment at kew. i remember you mentioned to me some time ago that you were thinking of it. i wish i could even hope that such a thing would be even attempted in the course of this generation for animals. but with animal morphology in the state in which it is now, we have no terminology that will stand, and consequently concise and comparable definitions are in many cases impossible. if old dom. gray [john edward gray ( - ) appointed keeper of the zoological collections in the british museum in .) were but an intelligent activity instead of being a sort of zoological whirlwind, what a deal he might do. and i am hopeless of owen's comprehending what classification means since the publication of the wonderful scheme which adorns the last edition of his lectures. as you say, i have found this a great place for "work of price." i have finished the "oceanic hydrozoa" all but the bookwork, for which i must have access to the b. m. library--but another week will do him. my notes are from eight to twelve years old, and really i often have felt like the editor of somebody else's posthumous work. just now i am busy over the "croonian," which must be done before i return. i have been pulling at all the arguments as a spider does at his threads, and i think they are all strong. if so the thing will do some good. i am perplexed about the n. h. collections. the best thing, i firmly believe, would be for the economic zoology and a set of well selected types to go to kensington, but i should be sorry to see the scientific collection placed under any such auspices as those which govern the "bilers." i don't believe the clay soil of the regent's park would matter a fraction--and to have a grand scientific zoological and paleontological collection for working purposes close to the gardens where the living beasts are, would be a grand thing. i should not wonder if the affair is greatly discussed at the b. a. at leeds, and then, perhaps, light will arise. have you seen that madcap tyndall's letter in the "times?" he'll break his blessed neck some day, and that will be a great hole in the efficiency of my scientific young england. we mean to return next saturday, and somewhere about the th of th i shall go down to york, where i want to study plesiosaurs. i shall return after the british association. the interesting question arises, shall i have a row with the great o. there? what a capital title that is they give him of the british cuvier. he stands in exactly the same relation to the french as british brandy to cognac. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. am i to send the "gardener's chronicle" on, and where? please. i have mislaid the address. jermyn street, october , . my dear spencer, i read your article on the "archetype" the other day with great delight, particularly the phrase which puts the owenian and cummingian interpolations on the same footing. it is rayther strong, but quite just. i do not remember a word to object to, but i think i could have strengthened your argument in one or two places. having eaten the food, will you let me have back the dish? i am winding up the "croonian," and want "l'archetype" to refer to. so if you can let me have it i shall be obliged. when do you return? ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. waverley place, january , . my dearest lizzie, if intentions were only acts, the quantity of letter paper covered with my scrawl which you should have had by this time should have been something wonderful. but i live at high pressure, with always a number of things crying out to be done, and those that are nearest and call loudest get done, while the others, too often, don't. however, this day shall not go by without my wishing you all happiness in the new year, and that wish you know necessarily includes all belonging to you, and my love to them. i have been long wanting to send you the photographs of myself, wife, and boy, but one reason or other (nettie's incessant ill-health being, i am sorry to say, the chief) has incessantly delayed the procuring of the last. however, at length, we have obtained a tolerably successful one, though you must not suppose that noel has the rather washed out look of his portrait. that comes of his fair hair and blue gray eyes--for the monkey is like his mother and has not an atom of resemblance to me. he was two years old yesterday, and is the apple of his father's eye and chief deity of his mother's pantheon, which at present contains only a god and goddess. another is expected shortly, however, so that there is no fear of olympus looking empty. ...here is the th of january and no letter gone yet...since i began this letter i have been very busy with lectures and other sorts of work, and besides, my whole household almost has been ill--chicks with whooping cough, mother with influenza, a servant ditto. i don't know whether you have such things in tennessee. let me see what has happened to me that will interest you since i last wrote. did i tell you that i have finally made up my mind to stop in london--the government having made it worth my while to continue in jermyn street? they give me pounds sterling a year now, with a gradual rise up to pounds sterling, which i reckon as just enough to live on if one keeps very quiet. however, it is the greatest possible blessing to be paid at last, and to be free from all the abominable anxieties which attend a fluctuating income. i can tell you i have had a sufficiently hard fight of it. when nettie and i were young fools we agreed we would marry whenever we had pounds sterling a year. well, we have had more than twice that to begin upon, and how it is we have kept out of the bench is a mystery to me. but we have, and i am inclined to think that the missus has got a private hoard (out of the puddings) for noel. i shall leave nettie to finish this rambling letter. in the meanwhile, my best love to you and yours, and mind you are a better correspondent than your affectionate brother, tom. [to professor leuckart.] the government school of mines, jermyn street, london, january , . my dear sir, our mutual friend, dr. harley, informs me that you have expressed a wish to become possessed of a separate copy of my lectures, published in the "medical times." i greatly regret that i have not one to send you. the publisher only gave me half a dozen separate copies of the numbers of the journal in which the lectures appeared. of these i sent one to johannes muller and one to professor victor carus, and the rest went to other friends. i am sorry to say that a mere fragment of what i originally intended to have published has appeared, the series having been concluded when i reached the end of the crustacea. to say truth, the lectures were not fitted for the journal in which they appeared. i did not know that anyone in germany had noticed them until i received the copy of your "bericht" for , which you were kind enough to send me. i owe you many thanks for the manner in which you speak of them, and i assure you it was a source of great pleasure and encouragement to me to find so competent a judge as yourself appreciating and sympathising with my objects. particular branches of zoology have been cultivated in this country with great success, as you are well aware, but ten years ago i do not believe that there were half a dozen of my countrymen who had the slightest comprehension of morphology, and of what you and i should call "wissenschaftliche zoologie." those who thought about the matter at all took owen's osteological extravaganzas for the ne plus ultra of morphological speculation. i learned the meaning of morphology and the value of development as the criterion of morphological views--first, from the study of the hydrozoa during a long voyage, and secondly, from the writings of von baer. i have done my best, both by precept and practice, to inaugurate better methods and a better spirit than had long prevailed. others have taken the same views, and i confidently hope that a new epoch for zoology is dawning among us. i do not claim for myself any great share in the good work, but i have not flinched when there was anything to be done. under these circumstances you will imagine that it was very pleasant to find on your side a recognition of what i was about. i sent you, through the booksellers, some time ago a copy of my memoir on aphis. i find from moleschott's "untersuchungen" that you must have been working at this subject contemporaneously with myself, and it was very satisfactory to find so close a concordance in essentials between our results. your memoirs are extremely interesting, and to some extent anticipated results at which my friend, mr. lubbock [the present sir john lubbock, m.p.] (a very competent worker, with whose paper on daphnia you are doubtless acquainted), had arrived. i should be very glad to know what you think of my views of the composition of the articulate head. i have been greatly interested also in your memoir on pentastomum. there can be no difficulty about getting a notice of it in our journals, and, indeed, i will see to it myself. pray do me the favour to let me know whenever i can serve you in this or other ways. i shall do myself the pleasure of forwarding to you immediately, through the booksellers, a lecture of mine on the theory of the vertebrate skull, which is just published, and also a little paper on the development of the tail in fishes. i am sorry to say that i have but little time for working at these matters now, as my position at the school of mines obliges me to confine myself more and more to paleontology. however, i keep to the anatomical side of that sort of work, and so, now and then, i hope to emerge from amidst the fossils with a bit of recent anatomy. just at present, by the way, i am giving my disposable hours to the completion of a monograph on the calycophoridae and physophoridae observed during my voyage. the book ought to have been published eight years ago. but for three years i could get no money from the government, and in the meanwhile you and kolliker, gegenbaur and vogt, went to the shores of the mediterranean and made sad havoc with my novelties. then came occupations consequent on my appointment to the chair i now hold; and it was only last autumn that i had leisure to take up the subject again. however, the plates, which i hope you will see in a few months have, with two exceptions, been engraved five years. pray make my remembrances to dr. eckhard. i was sorry not to have seen him again in london. ever, my dear sir, very faithfully yours, t.h. huxley. professor leuckart. [at this time sir j. hooker was writing, as an introduction to his "flora of tasmania," his essay on the "flora of australia," published in --a book which owed its form to the influence of darwin, and in return lent weighty support to evolutionary theory from the botanical side. he sent his proofs for huxley to read. waverley place, n.w., april , . my dear hooker, i have read your proofs with a great deal of attention and interest. i was greatly struck with the suggestions in the first page, and the exposure of the fallacy "that cultivated forms recur to wild types if left alone" is new to me and seems of vast importance. the argument brought forward in the note is very striking and as simple as the egg of columbus, when one sees it. i have marked one or two passages which are not quite clear to me... i have been accused of writing papers composed of nothing but heads of chapters, and i think you tend the same way. please take the trouble to make the two lines i have scored into a paragraph, so that poor devils who are not quite so well up in the subject as yourself may not have to rack their brains for an hour to supply all the links of your chain of argument... you see that i am in a carping humour, but the matter of the essays seems to me to be so very valuable that i am jealous of the manner of it. i had a long visit from greene of cork yesterday. he is very irish, but very intelligent and well-informed, and i am in hopes he will do good service. he is writing a little book on the protozoa, which (so far as i have glanced over the proof sheets as yet) seems to show a very philosophical turn of mind. it is very satisfactory to find the ideas one has been fighting for beginning to take root. i do not suppose my own personal contributions to science will ever be anything very grand, but i shall be well content if i have reason to believe that i have done something to stir up others. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to the same:--] april, . my dear hooker, ...i pity you--as for the mss. it is one of those cases for which penances were originally devised. what do you say to standing on your head in the garden for one hour per diem for the next week? it would be a relief... i suppose you will be at the phil. club next monday. in the meanwhile don't let all the flesh be worried off your bones (there isn't much as it is). ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. waverley place, july , . my dear hooker, i meant to have written to you yesterday, but things put it out of my head. if there is to be any fund raised at all, i am quite of your mind that it should be a scientific fund and not a mere naturalists' fund. sectarianism in such matters is ridiculous, and besides that, in this particular case it is bad policy. for the word "naturalist" unfortunately includes a far lower order of men than chemist, physicist, or mathematician. you don't call a man a mathematician because he has spent his life in getting as far as quadratics; but every fool who can make bad species and worse genera is a "naturalist"!--save the mark! imagine the chemists petitioning the crown for a pension for p-- if he wanted one! and yet he really is a philosopher compared to poor dear a--. "naturalists" therefore are far more likely to want help than any other class of scientific men, and they would be greatly damaging their own interests if they formed an exclusive fund for themselves. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [in november the "origin of species" was published, and a new direction was given to huxley's activities. ever since darwin and wallace had made their joint communication to the linnean society in the preceding july, expectation had been rife as to the forthcoming book. huxley was one of the few privileged to learn darwin's argument before it was given to the world; but the greatness of the book, mere instalment as it was of the long accumulated mass of notes, almost took him by surprise. before this time, he had taken up a thoroughly agnostic attitude with regard to the species question, for he could not accept the creational theory, yet sought in vain among the transmutationists for any cause adequate to produce transmutation. he had had many talks with darwin, and though ready enough to accept the main point, maintained such a critical attitude on many others, that darwin was not by any means certain of the effect the published book would produce upon him. indeed, in his notebook, i find jotted down under the head of his paper on pygocephalus (read at the geological society),] "anti-progressive confession of faith." [darwin was the more anxious, as, when he first put pen to paper, he had fixed in his mind three judges, by whose decision he determined mentally to abide. these three were lyell, hooker, and huxley. if these three came round, partly through the book, partly through their own reflections, he could feel that the subject was safe. "no one," writes darwin on november , "has read it, except lyell, with whom i have had much correspondence. hooker thinks him a complete convert, but he does not seem so in his letters to me; but is evidently deeply interested in the subject." and again: "i think i told you before that hooker is a complete convert. if i can convert huxley i shall be content." ("life" volume page .) on all three, the effect of the book itself, with its detailed arguments and overwhelming array of evidence, was far greater than that of previous discussions. with one or two reservations as to the logical completeness of the theory, huxley accepted it as a well-founded working hypothesis, calculated to explain problems otherwise inexplicable. two extracts from the chapter he contributed to the "life of darwin" show very clearly his attitude of mind when the "origin of species" was first published:--] extract from "the reception of the 'origin of species'" in "life and letters of charles darwin" volume pages - and - . i think i must have read the "vestiges" before i left england in ; but, if i did, the book made very little impression upon me, and i was not brought into serious contact with the "species" question until after . at that time, i had long done with the pentateuchal cosmogony, which had been impressed upon my childish understanding as divine truth, with all the authority of parents and instructors, and from which it had cost me many a struggle to get free. but my mind was unbiassed in respect of any doctrine which presented itself, if it professed to be based on purely philosophical and scientific reasoning. it seemed to me then (as it does now) that "creation," in the ordinary sense of the word, is perfectly conceivable. i find no difficulty in conceiving that, at some former period, this universe was not in existence; and that it made its appearance in six days (or instantaneously, if that is preferred), in consequence of the volition of some pre-existing being. then, as now, the so-called a priori arguments against theism; and, given a deity, against the possibility of creative acts, appeared to me to be devoid of reasonable foundation. i had not then, and i have not now, the smallest a priori objection to raise to the account of the creation of animals and plants given in "paradise lost," in which milton so vividly embodies the natural sense of genesis. far be it from me to say that it is untrue because it is impossible. i confine myself to what must be regarded as a modest and reasonable request for some particle of evidence that the existing species of animals and plants did originate in that way, as a condition of my belief in a statement which appears to me to be highly improbable. and, by way of being perfectly fair, i had exactly the same answer to give to the evolutionists of - . within the ranks of the biologists, at that time, i met with nobody, except dr. grant of university college, who had a word to say for evolution--and his advocacy was not calculated to advance the cause. outside these ranks, the only person known to me whose knowledge and capacity compelled respect, and who was, at the same time, a thorough-going evolutionist, was mr. herbert spencer, whose acquaintance i made, i think, in , and then entered into the bonds of a friendship which, i am happy to think, has known no interruption. many and prolonged were the battles we fought on this topic. but even my friend's rare dialectic skill and copiousness of apt illustration could not drive me from my agnostic position. i took my stand upon two grounds:--firstly, that up to that time, the evidence in favour of transmutation was wholly insufficient; and secondly, that no suggestion respecting the causes of transmutation assumed, which had been made, was in any way adequate to explain the phenomena. looking back at the state of knowledge at that time, i really do not see that any other conclusion was justifiable. in those days i had never even heard of treviranus' "biologie." however, i had studied lamarck attentively and i had read the "vestiges" with due care; but neither of them afforded me any good ground for changing my negative and critical attitude. as for the "vestiges," i confess that the book simply irritated me by the prodigious ignorance and thoroughly unscientific habit of mind manifested by the writer. if it had any influence on me at all, it set me against evolution; and the only review i ever have qualms of conscience about, on the ground of needless savagery, is one i wrote on the "vestiges" while under that influence... but, by a curious irony of fate, the same influence which led me to put as little faith in modern speculations on this subject as in the venerable traditions recorded in the first two chapters of genesis, was perhaps more potent than any other in keeping alive a sort of pious conviction that evolution, after all, would turn out true. i have recently read afresh the first edition of the "principles of geology"; and when i consider that this remarkable book had been nearly thirty years in everybody's hands, and that it brings home to any reader of ordinary intelligence a great principle and a great fact,--the principle that the past must be explained by the present, unless good cause be shown to the contrary; and the fact that so far as our knowledge of the past history of life on our globe goes, no such cause can be shown--i cannot but believe that lyell, for others, as for myself, was the chief agent in smoothing the road for darwin. for consistent uniformitarianism postulates evolution as much in the organic as in the inorganic world. the origin of a new species by other than ordinary agencies would be a vastly greater "catastrophe" than any of those which lyell successfully eliminated from sober geological speculation. thus, looking back into the past, it seems to me that my own position of critical expectancy was just and reasonable, and must have been taken up, on the same grounds, by many other persons. if agassiz told me that the forms of life which have successively tenanted the globe were the incarnations of successive thoughts of the deity; and that he had wiped out one set of these embodiments by an appalling geological catastrophe as soon as his ideas took a more advanced shape, i found myself not only unable to admit the accuracy of the deductions from the facts of paleontology, upon which this astounding hypothesis was founded, but i had to confess my want of any means of testing the correctness of his explanation of them. and besides that, i could by no means see what the explanation explained. neither did it help me to be told by an eminent anatomist that species had succeeded one another in time, in virtue of "a continuously operative creational law." that seemed to me to be no more than saying that species had succeeded one another in the form of a vote-catching resolution, with "law" to catch the man of science, and "creational" to draw the orthodox. so i took refuge in that "thatige skepsis" which goethe has so well defined; and, reversing the apostolic precept to be all things to all men, i usually defended the tenability of the received doctrines when i had to do with the transmutationist; and stood up for the possibility of transmutation among the orthodox--thereby, no doubt, increasing an already current, but quite undeserved, reputation for needless combativeness. i remember, in the course of my first interview with mr. darwin, expressing my belief in the sharpness of the lines of demarcation between natural groups and in the absence of transitional forms, with all the confidence of youth and imperfect knowledge. i was not aware, at that time, that he had then been many years brooding over the species-question; and the humorous smile which accompanied his gentle answer, that such was not altogether his view, long haunted and puzzled me. but it would seem that four or five years' hard work had enabled me to understand what it meant; for lyell, writing to sir charles bunbury (under date of april , ), says:-- "when huxley, hooker, and wollaston were at darwin's last week they (all four of them) ran a tilt against species--further, i believe, than they are prepared to go." i recollect nothing of this beyond the fact of meeting mr. wollaston; and except for sir charles's distinct assurance as to "all four," i should have thought my outrecuidance was probably a counterblast to wollaston's conservatism. with regard to hooker, he was already, like voltaire's habbakuk, capable du tout in the way of advocating evolution. as i have already said, i imagine that most of those of my contemporaries who thought seriously about the matter, were very much in my own state of mind--inclined to say to both mosaists and evolutionists, "a plague on both your houses!" and disposed to turn aside from an interminable and apparently fruitless discussion, to labour in the fertile fields of ascertainable fact. and i may therefore suppose that the publication of the darwin and wallace paper in , and still more that of the "origin" in , had the effect upon them of the flash of light which, to a man who has lost himself on a dark night, suddenly reveals a road which, whether it takes him straight home or not, certainly goes his way. that which we were looking for, and could not find, was a hypothesis respecting the origin of known organic forms which assumed the operation of no causes but such as could be proved to be actually at work. we wanted, not to pin our faith to that or any other speculation, but to get hold of clear and definite conceptions which could be brought face to face with facts and have their validity tested. the "origin" provided us with the working hypothesis we sought. moreover, it did the immense service of freeing us for ever from the dilemma--refuse to accept the creation hypothesis, and what have you to propose that can be accepted by any cautious reasoner? in i had no answer ready, and i do not think that anyone else had. a year later we reproached ourselves with dulness for being perplexed with such an inquiry. my reflection, when i first made myself master of the central idea of the "origin" was, "how extremely stupid not to have thought of that!" i suppose that columbus' companions said much the same when he made the egg stand on end. the facts of variability, of the struggle for existence, of adaptation to conditions, were notorious enough; but none of us had suspected that the road to the heart of the species problem lay through them, until darwin and wallace dispelled the darkness, and the beacon-fire of the "origin" guided the benighted. whether the particular shape which the doctrine of evolution, as applied to the organic world, took in darwin's hands, would prove to be final or not, was to me a matter of indifference. in my earliest criticisms of the "origin" i ventured to point out that its logical foundation was insecure so long as experiments in selective breeding had not produced varieties which were more or less infertile; and that insecurity remains up to the present time. but, with any and every critical doubt which my sceptical ingenuity could suggest, the darwinian hypothesis remained incomparably more probable than the creation hypothesis. and if we had none of us been able to discern the paramount significance of some of the most patent and notorious of natural facts, until they were, so to speak, thrust under our noses, what force remained in the dilemma--creation or nothing? it was obvious that hereafter the probability would be immensely greater, that the links of natural causation were hidden from our purblind eyes, than that natural causation should be incompetent to produce all the phenomena of nature. the only rational course for those who had no other object than the attainment of truth was to accept "darwinism" as a working hypothesis and see what could be made of it. either it would prove its capacity to elucidate the facts of organic life, or it would break down under the strain. this was surely the dictate of common sense; and, for once, common sense carried the day. [even before the "origin" actually came out, huxley had begun to act as what darwin afterwards called his "general agent." he began to prepare the way for the acceptance of the theory of evolution by discussing, for instance, one of the most obvious difficulties, namely, how is it that if evolution is ever progressive, progress is not universal? it was a point with respect to which darwin himself wrote soon after the publication of the "origin":--"judging from letters...and from remarks, the most serious omission in my book was not explaining how it is, as i believe, that all forms do not necessarily advance, how there can now be simple organisms existing." (may , .) huxley's idea, then, was to call attention to the persistence of many types without appreciable progression during geological time; to show that this fact was not explicable on any other hypothesis than that put forward by darwin; and by paleontological arguments, to pave the way for consideration of the imperfection of the geological record. such were the lines on which he delivered his friday evening lecture on "persistent types" at the royal institution on june , . however, the chief part which he took at this time in extending the doctrines of evolution was in applying them to his own subjects, development and vertebrate anatomy, and more particularly to the question of the origin of mankind. of all the burning questions connected with the origin of species, this was the most heated--the most surrounded by prejudice and passion. to touch it was to court attack; to be exposed to endless scorn, ridicule, misrepresentation, abuse--almost to social ostracism. but the facts were there; the structural likenesses between the apes and man had already been shown; and as huxley warned darwin,] "i will stop at no point so long as clear reasoning will carry me further." [now two years before the "origin" appeared, the denial of these facts by a leading anatomist led huxley, as was his wont, to re-investigate the question for himself and satisfy himself one way or the other. he found that the previous investigators were not mistaken. without going out of his way to refute the mis-statement as publicly as it was made, he simply embodied his results in his regular teaching. but the opportunity came unsought. fortified by his own researches, he openly challenged these assertions when repeated at the oxford meeting of the british association in , and promised to made good his challenge in the proper place. we also find him combating some of the difficulties in the way of accepting the theory laid before him by sir charles lyell. the veteran geologist had been darwin's confidant from almost the beginning of his speculations; he had really paved the way for the evolutionary doctrine by his own proof of geological uniformity, but he shrank from accepting it, for its inevitable extension to the descent of man was repugnant to his feelings. nevertheless, he would not allow sentiment to stand in the way of truth, and after the publication of the "origin" it could be said of him:--] lyell, up to that time a pillar of the anti-transmutationists (who regarded him, ever afterwards, as pallas athene may have looked at dian, after the endymion affair), declared himself a darwinian, though not without putting in a serious caveat. nevertheless, he was a tower of strength, and his courageous stand for truth as against consistency did him infinite honour. (t.h. huxley in "life of darwin" volume page .) [to sir charles lyell.] june , . my dear sir charles, i have endeavoured to meet your objections in the enclosed. ever yours, very truly, t.h. huxley. the fixity and definite limitation of species, genera, and larger groups appear to me to be perfectly consistent with the theory of transmutation. in other words, i think transmutation may take place without transition. suppose that external conditions acting on species a give rise to a new species, b; the difference between the two species is a certain definable amount which may be called a-b. now i know of no evidence to show that the interval between the two species must necessarily be bridged over by a series of forms, each of which shall occupy, as it occurs, a fraction of the distance between a and b. on the contrary, in the history of the ancon sheep, and of the six-fingered maltese family, given by reaumur, it appears that the new form appeared at once in full perfection. i may illustrate what i mean by a chemical example. in an organic compound, having a precise and definite composition, you may effect all sorts of transmutations by substituting an atom of one element for an atom of another element. you may in this way produce a vast series of modifications--but each modification is definite in its composition, and there are no transitional or intermediate steps between one definite compound and another. i have a sort of notion that similar laws of definite combination rule over the modifications of organic bodies, and that in passing from species to species "natura fecit saltum." all my studies lead me to believe more and more in the absence of any real transitions between natural groups, great and small--but with what we know of the physiology of conditions [?] this opinion seems to me to be quite consistent with transmutation. when i say that no evidence, or hardly any, would justify one in believing in the view of a new species of elephant, e.g. out of the earth, i mean that such an occurrence would be so diametrically contrary to all experience, so opposed to those beliefs which are the most constantly verified by experience, that one would be justified in believing either that one's senses were deluded, or that one had not really got to the bottom of the phenomenon. of course, if one could vary the conditions, if one could take a little silex, and by a little hocus-pocus a la crosse, galvanise a baby out of it as often as one pleased, all the philosopher could do would be to hold up his hands and cry, "god is great." but short of evidence of this kind, i don't mean to believe anything of the kind. how much evidence would you require to believe that there was a time when stones fell upwards, or granite made itself by a spontaneous rearrangement of the elementary particles of clay and sand? and yet the difficulties in the way of these beliefs are as nothing compared to those which you would have to overcome in believing that complex organic beings made themselves (for that is what creation comes to in scientific language) out of inorganic matter. i know it will be said that even on the transmutation theory, the first organic being must have made itself. but there is as much difference between supposing the passage of inorganic matter into an amoeba, e.g., and into an elephant, as there is between supposing that portland stone might have built itself up into st. paul's, and believing that the giant's causeway may have come about by natural causes. true, one must believe in a beginning somewhere, but science consists in not believing the having reached that beginning before one is forced to do so. it is wholly impossible to prove that any phenomenon whatsoever is not produced by the interposition of some unknown cause. but philosophy has prospered exactly as it has disregarded such possibilities, and has endeavoured to resolve every event by ordinary reasoning. i do not exactly see the force of your argument that we are bound to find fossil forms intermediate between men and monkeys in the rocks. crocodiles are the highest reptiles as men are the highest mammals, but we find nothing intermediate between crocodilia and lacertilia in the whole range of the mesozoic rocks. how do we know that man is not a persistent type? and as for implements, at this day, and as, i suppose, for the last two or three thousand years at least, the savages of australia have made their weapons of nothing but bone and wood. why should homo eocenus or ooliticus, the fellows who waddied the amphitherium and speared the phascolotherium as the australian niggers treat their congeners, have been more advanced? i by no means suppose that the transmutation hypothesis is proven or anything like it. but i view it as a powerful instrument of research. follow it out, and it will lead us somewhere; while the other notion is like all the modifications of "final causation," a barren virgin. and i would very strongly urge upon you that it is the logical development of uniformitarianism, and that its adoption would harmonise the spirit of paleontology with that of physical geology. chapter . . - . [the "origin" appeared in november. as soon as he had read it, huxley wrote the following letter to darwin (already published in "life of darwin" volume page ):-- jermyn street w., november , . my dear darwin, i finished your book yesterday, a lucky examination having furnished me with a few hours of continuous leisure. since i read von baer's essays, nine years ago, no work on natural history science i have met with has made so great an impression upon me, and i do most heartily thank you for the great store of new views you have given me. nothing, i think, can be better than the tone of the book--it impresses those who know about the subject. as for your doctrine, i am prepared to go to the stake, if requisite, in support of chapter [the imperfection of the geological record], and most parts of chapters [the geological succession of organic beings], , [geographical distribution], and chapter [classification, morphology, embryology, and rudimentary organs] contains much that is most admirable, but on one or two points i enter a caveat until i can see further into all sides of the question. as to the first four chapters [chapter , variation under domestication; , variation under nature; , the struggle for existence; , operation of natural selection; , laws of variation], i agree thoroughly and fully with all the principles laid down in them. i think you have demonstrated a true cause for the production of species, and have thrown the onus probandi, that species did not arise in the way you suppose, on your adversaries. but i feel that i have not yet by any means fully realised the bearings of those most remarkable and original chapters--iii, iv, and v, and i will write no more about them just now. the only objections that have occurred to me are-- st, that you have loaded yourself with an unnecessary difficulty in adopting natura non facit saltum so unreservedly; and nd, it is not clear to me why, if continual physical conditions are of so little moment as you suppose, variation should occur at all. however, i must read the book two or three times more before i presume to begin picking holes. i trust you will not allow yourself to be in any way disgusted or annoyed by the considerable abuse and misrepresentation which, unless i greatly mistake, is in store for you. depend upon it, you have earned the lasting gratitude of all thoughtful men. and as to the curs which will bark and yelp, you must recollect that some of your friends, at any rate, are endowed with an amount of combativeness which (though you have often and justly rebuked it) may stand you in good stead. i am sharpening up my claws and beak in readiness. looking back over my letter, it really expresses so feebly all i think about you and your noble book, that i am half-ashamed of it; but you will understand that, like the parrot in the story, "i think the more." ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a month later, fortune put into his hands the opportunity of striking a vigorous and telling blow for the newly-published book. never was windfall more eagerly accepted. a short account of this lucky chance was written by him for the darwin "life" (volume page ).] the "origin" was sent to mr. lucas, one of the staff of the "times" writers at that day, in what was i suppose the ordinary course of business. mr. lucas, though an excellent journalist, and at a later period, editor of "once a week," was as innocent of any knowledge of science as a babe, and be wailed himself to an acquaintance on having to deal with such a book. whereupon, he was recommended to ask me to get him out of his difficulty, and he applied to me accordingly, explaining, however, that it would be necessary for him formally to adopt anything i might be disposed to write, by prefacing it with two or three paragraphs of his own. i was too anxious to seize upon the opportunity thus offered of giving the book a fair chance with the multitudinous readers of the "times," to make any difficulty about conditions; and being then very full of the subject, i wrote the article faster, i think, than i ever wrote anything in my life, and sent it to mr. lucas, who duly prefixed his opening sentences. when the article appeared, there was much speculation as to its authorship. the secret leaked out in time, as all secrets will, but not by my aid; and then i used to derive a good deal of innocent amusement from the vehement assertions of some of my more acute friends, that they knew it was mine from the first paragraph! as the "times" some years since, referred to my connection with the review, i suppose there will be no breach of confidence in the publication of this little history, if you think it worth the space it will occupy. [the article appeared on december . only hooker was admitted into the secret. in an undated note huxley writes to him:--] i have written the other review you wot of, and have handed it over to my friend to deal as he likes with it...darwin will laugh over a letter that i sent him this morning with a vignette of the jermyn street "pet" ready to fight his battle, and the "judicious hooker" holding the bottle. [and on december he writes again:--] jermyn street, december , . my dear hooker, i have not the least objection to my share in the "times" article being known, only i should not like to have anything stated on my authority. the fact is, that the first quarter of the first column (down to "what is a species," etc.) is not mine, but belongs to the man who is the official reviewer for the "times" (my "temporal" godfather i might call him). the rest is my ipsissima verba, and i only wonder that it turns out as well as it does--for i wrote it faster than ever i wrote anything in my life. the last column nearly as fast as my wife could read the sheets. but i was thoroughly in the humour and full of the subject. of course as a scientific review the thing is worth nothing, but i earnestly hope it may have made some of the educated mob, who derive their ideas from the "times," reflect. and whatever they do, they shall respect darwin. pray give my kindest regards and best wishes for the new year to mrs. hooker, and tell her that if she, of her own natural sagacity and knowledge of the naughtiness of my heart, affirms that i wrote the article, i shall not contradict her--but that for reasons of state--i must not be supposed to say anything. i am pretty certain the saturday article was not written by owen. on internal grounds, because no word in it exceeds an inch in length; on external, from what cook said to me. the article is weak enough and one-sided enough, but looking at the various forces in action, i think cook has fully redeemed his promise to me. i went down to sir p. egerton on tuesday--was ill when i started, got worse and had to come back on thursday. i am all adrift now, but i couldn't stand being in the house any longer. i wish i had been born an an-hepatous foetus. all sorts of good wishes to you, and may you and i and tyndalides, and one or two more bricks, be in as good fighting order in as in . ever yours, t.h. huxley. [speaking of this period and the half-dozen preceding years, in his preface to "man's place in nature" he says:--] among the many problems which came under my consideration, the position of the human species in zoological classification was one of the most serious. indeed, at that time it was a burning question in the sense that those who touched it were almost certain to burn their fingers severely. it was not so very long since my kind friend, sir william lawrence, one of the ablest men whom i have known, had been well-nigh ostracised for his book "on man," which now might be read in a sunday school without surprising anybody; it was only a few years since the electors to the chair of natural history in a famous northern university had refused to invite a very distinguished man to occupy it because he advocated the doctrine of the diversity of species of mankind, or what was called "polygeny." even among those who considered man from the point of view, not of vulgar prejudice, but of science, opinions lay poles asunder. linnaeus had taken one view, cuvier another; and among my senior contemporaries, men like lyell, regarded by many as revolutionaries of the deepest dye, were strongly opposed to anything which tended to break down the barrier between man and the rest of the animal world. my own mind was by no means definitely made up about this matter when, in the year , a paper was read before the linnean society "on the characters, principles of division and primary groups of the class mammalia," in which certain anatomical features of the brain were said to be "peculiar to the genus 'homo,'" and were made the chief ground for separating that genus from all other mammals and placing him in a division, "archencephala," apart from, and superior to, all the rest. as these statements did not agree with the opinions i had formed, i set to work to reinvestigate the subject; and soon satisfied myself that the structures in question were not peculiar to man, but were shared by him with all the higher and many of the lower apes. i embarked in no public discussion of these matters, but my attention being thus drawn to them, i studied the whole question of the structural relations of man to the next lower existing forms, with much care. and, of course, i embodied my conclusions in my teaching. matters were at this point when the "origin of species" appeared. the weighty sentence, "light will be thrown on the origin of man and his history" ( st edition page ), was not only in full harmony with the conclusions at which i had arrived respecting the structural relations of apes and men, but was strongly supported by them. and inasmuch as development and vertebrate anatomy were not among mr. darwin's many specialities, it appeared to me that i should not be intruding on the ground he had made his own, if i discussed this part of the general question. in fact, i thought that i might probably serve the cause of evolution by doing so. some experience of popular lecturing had convinced me that the necessity of making things clear to uninstructed people was one of the very best means of clearing up the obscure corners in one's own mind. so, in , i took the relation of man to the lower animals for the subject of the six lectures to working men which it was my duty to deliver. it was also in that this topic was discussed before a jury of experts at the meeting of the british association at oxford, and from that time a sort of running fight on the same subject was carried on, until it culminated at the cambridge meeting of the association in , by my friend sir w. flower's public demonstration of the existence in the apes of those cerebral characters which had been said to be peculiar to man. [the famous oxford meeting of was of no small importance in huxley's career. it was not merely that he helped to save a great cause from being stifled under misrepresentation and ridicule--that he helped to extort for it a fair hearing; it was now that he first made himself known in popular estimation as a dangerous adversary in debate--a personal force in the world of science which could not be neglected. from this moment he entered the front fighting line in the most exposed quarter of the field. most unluckily, no contemporary account of his own exists of the encounter. indeed, the same cause which prevented his writing home the story of the day's work nearly led to his absence from the scene. it was known that bishop wilberforce, whose first class in mathematics gave him, in popular estimation, a right to treat on scientific matters, intended to "smash darwin"; and, huxley, expecting that the promised debate would be merely an appeal to prejudice in a mixed audience, before which the scientific arguments of the bishop's opponents would be at the utmost disadvantage, intended to leave oxford that very morning and join his wife at hardwicke, near reading, where she was staying with her sister. but in a letter, quoted below, he tells how, on the friday afternoon, he chanced to meet robert chambers, the reputed author of the "vestiges of creation," who begged him "not to desert them." accordingly he postponed his departure; but seeing his wife next morning, had no occasion to write a letter. several accounts of the scene are already in existence: one in the "life of darwin" (volume page ), another in the "life," page sq.; a third that of "lyell" (volume page ), the slight differences between them representing the difference between individual recollections of eye-witnesses. in addition to these i have been fortunate enough to secure further reminiscences from several other eye-witnesses. two papers in section d, of no great importance in themselves, became historical as affording the opponents of darwin their opportunity of making an attack upon his theory which should tell with the public. the first was on thursday, june . dr. daubeny of oxford made a communication to the section, "on the final causes of the sexuality of plants, with particular reference to mr. darwin's work on the "origin of species." (my best thanks are due to mr. f. darwin for permission to quote his accounts of the meeting; other citations are from the "athenaeum" reports of july , .) huxley was called upon to speak by the president, but tried to avoid a discussion, on the ground "that a general audience, in which sentiment would unduly interfere with intellect, was not the public before which such a discussion should be carried on." this consideration, however, did not stop the discussion; it was continued by owen. he said he "wished to approach the subject in the spirit of the philosopher," and declared his "conviction that there were facts by which the public could come to some conclusion with regard to the probabilities of the truth of mr. darwin's theory." as one of these facts, he stated that the brain of the gorilla "presented more differences, as compared with the brain of man, than it did when compared with the brains of the very lowest and most problematical of the quadrumana." now this was the very point, as said above, upon which huxley had made special investigations during the last two years, with precisely opposite results, such as, indeed, had been arrived at by previous investigators. hereupon he replied, giving these assertions a "direct and unqualified contradiction," and pledging himself to "justify that unusual procedure elsewhere,"--a pledge which was amply fulfilled in the pages of the "natural history review" for . accordingly it was to him, thus marked out as the champion of the most debatable theory of evolution, that, two days later, the bishop addressed his sarcasms, only to meet with a withering retort. for on the friday there was peace; but on the saturday came a yet fiercer battle over the "origin," which loomed all the larger in the public eye, because it was not merely the contradiction of one anatomist by another, but the open clash between science and the church. it was, moreover, not a contest of bare fact or abstract assertion, but a combat of wit between two individuals, spiced with the personal element which appeals to one of the strongest instincts of every large audience. it was the merest chance, as i have already said, that huxley attended the meeting of the section that morning. dr. draper of new york was to read a paper on the "intellectual development of europe considered with reference to the views of mr. darwin." "i can still hear," writes one who was present, "the american accents of dr. draper's opening address when he asked 'air we a fortuitous concourse of atoms?'" however, it was not to hear him, but the eloquence of the bishop, that the members of the association crowded in such numbers into the lecture room of the museum, that this, the appointed meeting-place of the section, had to be abandoned for the long west room, since cut in two by a partition for the purposes of the library. it was not term time, nor were the general public admitted; nevertheless the room was crowded to suffocation long before the protagonists appeared on the scene, persons or more managing to find places. the very windows by which the room was lighted down the length of its west side were packed with ladies, whose white handkerchiefs, waving and fluttering in the air at the end of the bishop's speech, were an unforgettable factor in the acclamation of the crowd. on the east side between the two doors was the platform. professor henslow, the president of the section, took his seat in the centre; upon his right was the bishop, and beyond him again dr. draper; on his extreme left was mr. dingle, a clergyman from lanchester, near durham, with sir j. hooker and sir j. lubbock in front of him, and nearer the centre, professor beale of king's college, london, and huxley. the clergy, who shouted lustily for the bishop, were massed in the middle of the room; behind them in the north-west corner a knot of undergraduates (one of these was t.h. green, who listened but took no part in the cheering) had gathered together beside professor brodie, ready to lift their voices, poor minority though they were, for the opposite party. close to them stood one of the few men among the audience already in holy orders, who joined in--and indeed led--the cheers for the darwinians. so "dr. draper droned out his paper, turning first to the right hand and then to the left, of course bringing in a reference to the origin of species which set the ball rolling." an hour or more that paper lasted, and then discussion began. the president "wisely announced in limine that none who had not valid arguments to bring forward on one side or the other would be allowed to address the meeting; a caution that proved necessary, for no fewer than four combatants had their utterances burked by him, because of their indulgence in vague declamation." ("life of darwin" l.c.) first spoke (writes professor farrar (canon of durham.)) a layman from brompton, who gave his name as being one of the committee of the (newly formed) economic section of the association. he, in a stentorian voice, let off his theological venom. then jumped up richard greswell with a thin voice, saying much the same, but speaking as a scholar (the reverend richard greswell, b.d., tutor of worcester college.); but we did not merely want any theological discussion, so we shouted them down. then a mr. dingle got up and tried to show that darwin would have done much better if he had taken him into consultation. he used the blackboard and began a mathematical demonstration on the question--"let this point a be man, and let that point b be the mawnkey." he got no further; he was shouted down with cries of "mawnkey." none of these had spoken more than three minutes. it was when these were shouted down that henslow said he must demand that the discussion should rest on scientific grounds only. then there were calls for the bishop, but he rose and said he understood his friend professor beale had something to say first. beale, who was an excellent histologist, spoke to the effect that the new theory ought to meet with fair discussion, but added, with great modesty, that he himself had not sufficient knowledge to discuss the subject adequately. then the bishop spoke the speech that you know, and the question about his mother being an ape, or his grandmother. from the scientific point of view, the speech was of small value. it was evident from his mode of handling the subject that he had been "crammed up to the throat," and knew nothing at first hand; he used no argument beyond those to be found in his "quarterly" article, which appeared a few days later, and is now admitted to have been inspired by owen. "he ridiculed darwin badly and huxley savagely; but," confesses one of his strongest opponents, "all in such dulcet tones, so persuasive a manner, and in such well turned periods, that i who had been inclined to blame the president for allowing a discussion that could serve no scientific purpose, now forgave him from the bottom of my heart." ("life of darwin" l.c.) the bishop spoke thus "for full half an hour with inimitable spirit, emptiness and unfairness." "in a light, scoffing tone, florid and fluent, he assured us there was nothing in the idea of evolution; rock-pigeons were what rock-pigeons had always been. then, turning to his antagonist with a smiling insolence, he begged to know, was it through his grandfather or his grandmother that he claimed his descent from a monkey?" ("reminiscences of a grandmother," "macmillan's magazine," october . professor farrar thinks this version of what the bishop said is slightly inaccurate. his impression is that the words actually used seemed at the moment flippant and unscientific rather than insolent, vulgar, or personal. the bishop, he writes, "had been talking of the perpetuity of species of birds; and then, denying a fortiori the derivation of the species man from ape, he rhetorically invoked the aid of feeling, and said, 'if any one were to be willing to trace his descent through an ape as his grandfather, would he be willing to trace his descent similarly on the side of his grandmother?' his false humour was an attempt to arouse the antipathy about degrading woman to the quadrumana. your father's reply showed there was vulgarity as well as folly in the bishop's words; and the impression distinctly was, that the bishop's party, as they left the room, felt abashed, and recognised the bishop had forgotten to behave like a perfect gentleman.") this was the fatal mistake of his speech. huxley instantly grasped the tactical advantage which the descent to personalities gave him. he turned to sir benjamin brodie, who was sitting beside him, and emphatically striking his hand upon his knee, exclaimed,] "the lord hath delivered him into mine hands." [the bearing of the exclamation did not dawn upon sir benjamin until after huxley had completed his "forcible and eloquent" answer to the scientific part of the bishop's argument, and proceeded to make his famous retort. (the "athenaeum" reports him as saying that darwin's theory was an explanation of phenomena in natural history, as the undulatory theory was of the phenomena of light. no one objected to that theory because an undulation of light had never been arrested and measured. darwin's theory was an explanation of facts, and his book was full of new facts, all bearing on his theory. without asserting that every part of that theory had been confirmed, he maintained that it was the best explanation of the origin of species which had yet been offered. with regard to the psychological distinction between men and animals, man himself was once a monad--a mere atom, and nobody could say at what moment in the history of his development he became consciously intelligent. the question was not so much one of a transmutation or transition of species, as of the production of forms which became permanent. thus the short-legged sheep of america was not produced gradually, but originated in the birth of an original parent of the whole stock, which had been kept up by a rigid system of artificial selection.) on this (continues the writer in "macmillan's magazine") mr. huxley slowly and deliberately arose. a slight tall figure, stern and pale, very quiet and very grave ("young, cool, quiet, scientific--scientific in fact and in treatment."--j.r. green. a certain piquancy must have been added to the situation by the superficial resemblance in feature between the two men, so different in temperament and expression. indeed next day at hardwicke, a friend came up to mr. fanning and asked who his guest was, saying, "surely it is the son of the bishop of oxford."), he stood before us and spoke those tremendous words--words which no one seems sure of now, nor, i think, could remember just after they were spoken, for their meaning took away our breath, though it left us in no doubt as to what it was. he was not ashamed to have a monkey for his ancestor; but he would be ashamed to be connected with a man who used great gifts to obscure the truth. no one doubted his meaning, and the effect was tremendous. one lady fainted and had to be carried out; i, for one, jumped out of my seat. the fullest and probably most accurate account of these concluding words is the following, from a letter of the late john richard green, then an undergraduate, to his friend, afterwards professor boyd dawkins (the writer in "macmillan's" tells me: "i cannot quite accept mr. j.r. green's sentences as your father's; though i didn't doubt that they convey the sense; but then i think that only a shorthand writer could reproduce mr. huxley's singularly beautiful style--so simple and so incisive. the sentence given is much too 'green.'")] i asserted--and i repeat--that a man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. if there were an ancestor whom i should feel shame in recalling it would rather be a man--a man of restless and versatile intellect--who, not content with an equivocal success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digressions and skilled appeals to religious prejudice. (my father once told me that he did not remember using the word "equivocal" in this speech. (see his letter below.) the late professor victor carus had the same impression, which is corroborated by professor farrar.) (as the late henry fawcett wrote in "macmillan's magazine," :--"the retort was so justly deserved, and so inimitable in its manner, that no one who was present can ever forget the impression that it made.") further, mr. a.g. vernon-harcourt, f.r.s., reader in chemistry at the university of oxford, writes to me:-- the bishop had rallied your father as to the descent from a monkey, asking as a sort of joke how recent this had been, whether it was his grandfather or further back. your father, in replying on this point, first explained that the suggestion was of descent through thousands of generations from a common ancestor, and then went on to this effect--"but if this question is treated, not as a matter for the calm investigation of science, but as a matter of sentiment, and if i am asked whether i would choose to be descended from the poor animal of low intelligence and stooping gait, who grins and chatters as we pass, or from a man, endowed with great ability and a splendid position, who should use these gifts" (here, as the point became clear, there was a great outburst of applause, which mostly drowned the end of the sentence) "to discredit and crush humble seekers after truth, i hesitate what answer to make." no doubt your father's words were better than these, and they gained effect from his clear, deliberate utterance, but in outline and in scale this represents truly what was said. after the commotion was over, "some voices called for hooker, and his name having been handed up, the president invited him to give his view of the theory from the botanical side. this he did, demonstrating that the bishop, by his own showing, had never grasped the principles of the 'origin,' and that he was absolutely ignorant of the elements of botanical science. the bishop made no reply, and the meeting broke up." ("life of darwin," l.c.) account of the oxford meeting by the reverend w.h. freemantle (in "charles darwin, his life told" etc. page .) the bishop of oxford attacked darwin, at first playfully, but at last in grim earnest. it was known that the bishop had written an article against darwin in the last "quarterly review" (it appeared in the ensuing number for july.); it was also rumoured that professor owen had been staying in cuddesdon and had primed the bishop, who was to act as mouthpiece to the great paleontologist, who did not himself dare to enter the lists. the bishop, however, did not show himself master of the facts, and made one serious blunder. a fact which had been much dwelt on as confirmatory of darwin's idea of variation, was that a sheep had been born shortly before in a flock in the north of england, having an addition of one to the vertebrae of the spine. the bishop was declaring with rhetorical exaggeration that there was hardly any evidence on darwin's side. "what have they to bring forward?" he exclaimed. "some rumoured statement about a long-legged sheep." but he passed on to banter: "i should like to ask professor huxley, who is sitting by me, and is about to tear me to pieces when i have sat down, as to his belief in being descended from an ape. is it on his grandfather's or his grandmother's side that the ape ancestry comes in?" and then taking a graver tone, he asserted, in a solemn peroration, that darwin's views were contrary to the revelation of god in the scriptures. professor huxley was unwilling to respond: but he was called for, and spoke with his usual incisiveness and with some scorn:] "i am here only in the interests of science," [he said,] "and i have not heard anything which can prejudice the case of my august client." [then after showing how little competent the bishop was to enter upon the discussion, he touched on the question of creation.] "you say that development drives out the creator; but you assert that god made you: and yet you know that you yourself were originally a little piece of matter, no bigger than the end of this gold pencil-case." [lastly as to the descent from a monkey, he said:] "i should feel it no shame to have risen from such an origin; but i should feel it a shame to have sprung from one who prostituted the gifts of culture and eloquence to the service of prejudice and of falsehood." [many others spoke. mr. gresley, an old oxford don, pointed out that in human nature at least orderly development was not the necessary rule: homer was the greatest of poets, but he lived years ago, and has not produced his like. admiral fitzroy was present, and said he had often expostulated with his old comrade of the "beagle" for entertaining views which were contradictory to the first chapter of genesis. sir john lubbock declared that many of the arguments by which the permanence of species was supported came to nothing, and instanced some wheat which was said to have come off an egyptian mummy, and was sent to him to prove that wheat had not changed since the time of the pharaohs; but which proved to be made of french chocolate. sir joseph (then dr.) hooker spoke shortly, saying that he had found the hypothesis of natural selection so helpful in explaining the phenomena of his own subject of botany, that he had been constrained to accept it. after a few words from darwin's old friend, professor henslow, who occupied the chair, the meeting broke up, leaving the impression that those most capable of estimating the arguments of darwin in detail saw their way to accept his conclusions. note.--sir john lubbock also insisted on the embryological evidence for evolution. f.d.] [t.h. huxley to francis darwin (ibid.).] june , . i should say that freemantle's account is substantially correct, but that green has the substance of my speech more accurately. however, i am certain i did not use the word, "equivocal." the odd part of the business is, that i should not have been present except for robert chambers. i had heard of the bishop's intention to utilise the occasion. i knew he had the reputation of being a first-class controversialist, and i was quite aware that if he played his cards properly, we should have little chance, with such an audience, of making an efficient defence. moreover, i was very tired, and wanted to join my wife at her brother-in-law's country house near reading, on the saturday. on the friday i met chambers in the street, and in reply to some remark of his, about his going to the meeting, i said that i did not mean to attend it--did not see the good of giving up peace and quietness to be episcopally pounded. chambers broke out into vehement remonstrances, and talked about my deserting them. so i said, "oh! if you are going to take it that way, i'll come and have my share of what is going on." so i came, and chanced to sit near old sir benjamin brodie. the bishop began his speech, and to my astonishment very soon showed that he was so ignorant that he did not know how to manage his own case. my spirits rose proportionately, and when he turned to me with his insolent question, i said to sir benjamin, in an undertone, "the lord hath delivered him into mine hands." that sagacious old gentleman stared at me as if i had lost my senses. but, in fact, the bishop had justified the severest retort i could devise, and i made up my mind to let him have it. i was careful, however, not to rise to reply, until the meeting called for me--then i let myself go. in justice to the bishop, i am bound to say he bore no malice, but was always courtesy itself when we occasionally met in after years. hooker and i walked away from the meeting together, and i remember saying to him that this experience had changed my opinion as to the practical value of the art of public speaking, and that from that time forth i should carefully cultivate it, and try to leave off hating it. i did the former, but never quite succeeded in the latter effort. i did not mean to trouble you with such a long scrawl when i began about this piece of ancient history. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in the evening there was a crowded conversazione in dr. daubney's rooms, and here, continues the writer in "macmillan's," "everyone was eager to congratulate the hero of the day. i remember that some naive person wished 'it could come over again'; mr. huxley, with the look on his face of the victor who feels the cost of victory, put us aside saying,] 'once in a lifetime is enough, if not too much.'" [in a letter to me the same writer remarks-- i gathered from mr. huxley's look when i spoke to him at dr. daubeny's that he was not quite satisfied to have been forced to take so personal a tone--it a little jarred upon his fine taste. but it was the bishop who first struck the insolent note of personal attack. again, with reference to the state of feeling at the meeting:-- i never saw such a display of fierce party spirit, the looks of bitter hatred which the audience bestowed--(i mean the majority) on us who were on your father's side--as we passed through the crowd we felt that we were expected to say "how abominably the bishop was treated"--or to be considered outcasts and detestable. it was very different, however, at dr. daubeny's, "where," says the writer of the account in "darwin's life," "the almost sole topic was the battle of the 'origin,' and i was much struck with the fair and unprejudiced way in which the black coats and white cravats of oxford discussed the question, and the frankness with which they offered their congratulations to the winners in the combat." the result of this encounter, though a check to the other side, cannot, of course, be represented as an immediate and complete triumph for evolutionary doctrine. this was precluded by the character and temper of the audience, most of whom were less capable of being convinced by the arguments than shocked by the boldness of the retort, although, being gentlefolk, as professor farrar remarks, they were disposed to admit on reflection that the bishop had erred on the score of taste and good manners. nevertheless, it was a noticeable feature of the occasion, sir m. foster tells me, that when huxley rose he was received coldly, just a cheer of encouragement from his friends, the audience as a whole not joining in it. but as he made his points the applause grew and widened, until, when he sat down, the cheering was not very much less than that given to the bishop. to that extent he carried an unwilling audience with him by the force of his speech. the debate on the ape question, however, was continued elsewhere during the next two years, and the evidence was completed by the unanswerable demonstrations of sir w.h. flower at the cambridge meeting of the association in . the importance of the oxford meeting lay in the open resistance that was made to authority, at a moment when even a drawn battle was hardly less effectual than acknowledged victory. instead of being crushed under ridicule, the new theories secured a hearing, all the wider, indeed, for the startling nature of their defence.] chapter . . - . [in the autumn he set to work to make good his promise of demonstrating the existence in the simian brain of the structures alleged to be exclusively human. the result was seen in his papers "on the zoological relations of man with the lower animals" ("natural history review" pages - ); "on the brain of ateles paniscus," which appeared in the "proceedings of the zoological society" for , and on "nyctipithecus" in , while similar work was undertaken by his friends rolleston and flower. but the brain was only one point among many, as, for example, the hand and the foot in man and the apes; and he already had in mind the discussion of the whole question comprehensively. on january he writes to sir j. hooker:--] some of these days i shall look up the ape question again and go over the rest of the organisation in the same way. but in order to get a thorough grip of the question i must examine into a good many points for myself. the results, when they do come out, will, i foresee, astonish the natives. [full of interest in this theme, he made it the subject of his popular lectures in the spring of . thus from february to may he lectured weekly to working men on "the relation of man to the rest of the animal kingdom," and on march writes to his wife:--] my working men stick by me wonderfully, the house being fuller than ever last night. by next friday evening they will all be convinced that they are monkeys...said lecture, let me inform you, was very good. lyell came and was rather astonished at the magnitude and attentiveness of the audience. [these lectures to working men were published in the "natural history review," as was a friday evening discourse at the royal institution (february ) on "the nature of the earliest stages of development of animals." meanwhile the publication of these researches led to another pitched battle, in which public interest was profoundly engaged. the controversy which raged had some resemblance to a duel over a point of honour and credit. scientific technicalities became the catchwords of society, and the echoes of the great hippocampus question linger in the delightful pages of the "water-babies." of this fight huxley writes to sir j. hooker on april , :--] a controversy between owen and myself, which i can only call absurd (as there is no doubt whatever about the facts), has been going on in the "athenaeum," and i wound it up in disgust last week. [and again on april :--] owen occupied an entirely untenable position--but i am nevertheless surprised he did not try "abusing plaintiff's attorney." the fact is he made a prodigious blunder in commencing the attack, and now his only chance is to be silent and let people forget the exposure. i do not believe that in the whole history of science there is a case of any man of reputation getting himself into such a contemptible position. he will be the laughing-stock of all the continental anatomists. rolleston has a great deal of oxford slough to shed, but on that very ground his testimony has been of most especial service. fancy that man -- telling maskelyne that rolleston's observations were entirely confirmatory of owen. [about the same time he writes to his wife:--] april . people are talking a good deal about the "man and the apes" question, and i hear that somebody, i suspect monckton-milnes, has set afloat a poetical squib on the subject... [the squib in question, dated "the zoological gardens," and signed "gorilla," appeared in "punch" for may , , under a picture of that animal, bearing the sign, "am i a man and a brother?" the concluding verses run as follows: next huxley replies that owen he lies and garbles his latin quotation; that his facts are not new, his mistakes not a few, detrimental to his reputation. "to twice slay the slain" by dint of the brain (thus huxley concludes his review), is but labour in vain, unproductive of gain, and so i shall bid you "adieu!"] some think my winding-up too strong, but i trust the day will never come when i shall abstain from expressing my contempt for those who prostitute science to the service of error. at any rate i am not old enough for that yet. darwin came in just now. i get no scoldings for pitching into the common enemy now!! i would give you fifty guesses [he writes to hooker on april ], and you should not find out the author of the "punch" poem. i saw it in ms. three weeks ago, and was told the author was a friend of mine. but i remained hopelessly in the dark till yesterday. what do you say to sir philip egerton coming out in that line? i am told he is the author, and the fact speaks volumes for owen's perfect success in damning himself. [in the midst of the fight came a surprising invitation. on april he writes to his wife:--] they have written to me from the philosophical institute of edinburgh to ask me to give two lectures on the "relation of man to the lower animals" next session. i have replied that if they can give me january and for lecture days i will do it--if not, not. fancy unco guid edinburgh requiring illumination on the subject! they know my views, so if they did not like what i have to tell them, it is their own fault. [these lectures were eventually delivered on january and , , and were well reported in the edinburgh papers. the substance of them appears as part in "man's place in nature," the first lecture describing the general nature of the process of development among vertebrate animals, and the modifications of the skeleton in the mammalia; the second dealing with the crucial points of comparison between the higher apes and man, namely the hand, foot, and brain. he showed that the differences between man and the higher apes were no greater than those between the higher and lower apes. if the darwinian hypothesis explained the common ancestry of the latter, the anatomist would have no difficulty with the origin of man, so far as regards the gap between him and the higher apes. yet, though convinced that] "that hypothesis is as near an approximation to the truth as, for example, the copernican hypothesis was to the true theory of the planetary motions," [he steadfastly refused to be an advocate of the theory,] "if by an advocate is meant one whose business it is to smooth over real difficulties, and to persuade when he cannot convince." [in common fairness he warned his audience of the one missing link in the chain of evidence--the fact that selective breeding has not yet produced species sterile to one another. but it is to be adopted as a working hypothesis like other scientific generalisations,] "subject to the production of proof that physiological species may be produced by selective breeding; just as a physical philosopher may accept the undulatory theory of light, subject to the proof of the existence of the hypothetical ether; or as the chemist adopts the atomic theory, subject to the proof of the existence of atoms; and for exactly the same reasons, namely, that it has an immense amount of prima facie probability; that it is the only means at present within reach of reducing the chaos of observed facts to order; and lastly, that it is the most powerful instrument of investigation which has been presented to naturalists since the invention of the natural system of classification, and the commencement of the systematic study of embryology." [as for the repugnance of most men to admitting kinship with the apes,] "thoughtful men," [he says,] once escaped from the blinding influences of traditional prejudices, will find in the lowly stock whence man has sprung the best evidence of the splendour of his capacities; and will discern, in his long progress through the past, a reasonable ground of faith in his attainment of a nobler future." [a simile, with which he enforced this elevating point of view, which has since eased the passage of many minds to the acceptance of evolution, seems to have been much appreciated by his audience. it was a comparison of man to the alps, which turn out to be] "of one substance with the dullest clay, but raised by inward forces to that place of proud and seemingly inaccessible glory." [the lectures were met at first with astonishing quiet, but it was not long before the stones began to fly. the "witness" of january lashed itself into a fury over the fact that the audience applauded this "anti-scriptural and most debasing theory...standing in blasphemous contradiction to biblical narrative and doctrine," instead of expressing their resentment at this "foul outrage committed upon them individually, and upon the whole species as 'made in the likeness of god,'" by deserting the hall in a body, or using some more emphatic form of protest against the corruption of youth by "the vilest and beastliest paradox ever vented in ancient or modern times amongst pagans or christians." in his finest vein of sarcasm, the writer expresses his surprise that the meeting did not instantly resolve itself into a "gorilla emancipation society," or propose to hear a lecture from an apostle of mormonism; "even this would be a less offensive, mischievous, and inexcusable exhibition than was made in the recent two lectures by professor huxley," etc.] jermyn street, january , . my dear darwin, in the first place a new year's greeting to you and yours. in the next, i enclose this slip (please return it when you have read it) to show you what i have been doing in the north. everybody prophesied i should be stoned and cast out of the city gate, but, on the contrary, i met with unmitigated applause!! three cheers for the progress of liberal opinion!! the report is as good as any, but they have not put quite rightly what i said about your views, respecting which i took my old line about the infertility difficulty. furthermore, they have not reported my statement that whether you were right or wrong, some form of the progressive development theory is certainly true. nor have they reported here my distinct statement that i believe man and the apes to have come from one stock. having got thus far, i find the lecture better reported in the "courant," so i send you that instead. i mean to publish the lecture in full by and by (about the time the orchids come out). ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. i deserved the greatest credit for not having made an onslaught on brewster for his foolish impertinence about your views in "good words," but declined to stir nationality, which you know (in him) is rather more than his bible. jermyn street, january , . my dear hooker, i wonder if we are ever to meet again in this world! at any rate i send to the remote province of kew, greeting, and my best wishes for the new year to you and yours. i also inclose a slip from an edinburgh paper containing a report of my lecture on the "relation of man," etc. as you will see, i went in for the entire animal more strongly, in fact, than they have reported me. i told them in so many words that i entertained no doubt of the origin of man from the same stock as the apes. and to my great delight, in saintly edinburgh itself the announcement met with nothing but applause. for myself i can't say that the praise or blame of my audience was much matter, but it is a grand indication of the general disintegration of old prejudices which is going on. i shall see if i cannot make something more of the lectures by delivering them again in london, and then i shall publish them. the report does not put nearly strongly enough what i said in favour of darwin's views. i affirmed it to be the only scientific hypothesis of the origin of species in existence, and expressed my belief that one gap in the evidence would be filled up, as i always do. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, january , . my dear darwin, the inclosed article, which has been followed up by another more violent, more scurrilously personal, and more foolish, will prove to you that my labour has not been in vain, and that your views and mine are likely to be better ventilated in scotland than they have been. i was quite uneasy at getting no attack from the "witness," thinking i must have overestimated the impression that i had made, and the favourableness of the reception of what i said. but the raving of the "witness" is clear testimony that my notion was correct. i shall send a short reply to the "scotsman" for the purpose of further advertising the question. with regard to what are especially your doctrines, i spoke much more favourably than i am reported to have done. i expressed no doubt as to their ultimate establishment, but as i particularly wished not to be misrepresented as an advocate trying to soften or explain away real difficulties, i did not in speaking enter into the details of what is to be said in diminishing the weight of the hybrid difficulty. all this will be put fully when i print the lecture. the arguments put in your letter are those which i have urged to other people--of the opposite side--over and over again. i have told my students that i entertain no doubt that twenty years' experiments on pigeons conducted by a skilled physiologist, instead of by a mere breeder, would give us physiological species sterile inter se, from a common stock (and in this, if i mistake not, i go further than you do yourself), and i have told them that when these experiments have been performed i shall consider your views to have a complete physical basis, and to stand on as firm ground as any physiological theory whatever. it was impossible for me, in the time i had, to lay all this down to my edinburgh audience, and in default of full explanation it was far better to seem to do scanty justice to you. i am constitutionally slow of adopting any theory that i must needs stick by when i have gone in for it; but for these two years i have been gravitating towards your doctrines, and since the publication of your primula paper with accelerated velocity. by about this time next year i expect to have shot past you, and to find you pitching into me for being more darwinian than yourself. however, you have set me going, and must just take the consequences, for i warn you i will stop at no point so long as clear reasoning will carry me further. my wife and i were very grieved to hear you had had such a sick house, but i hope the change in the weather has done you all good. anything is better than the damp warmth we had. i will take great care of the three "barriers." [a pamphlet called "the three barriers" by g.r., being notes on mr. darwin's "origin of species" , vo." habitat, structure, and procreative power are given as these three barriers to darwinism, against which natural theology takes its stand on final causes.] i wanted to cut it up in the "saturday," but how i am to fulfil my benevolent intentions--with five lectures a week--a lecture at the royal institution and heaps of other things on my hands, i don't know. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. i am very glad to hear about brown sequard; he is a thoroughly good man, and told me it was worth while to come all the way to oxford to hear the bishop pummelled. [in the above-mentioned letter to the "scotsman" of january he expresses his unfeigned satisfaction at the fulfilment of the three objects of his address, namely, to state fully and fairly his conclusions, to avoid giving unnecessary offence, and thirdly,] "while feeling assured of the just and reasonable dealing of the respectable part of the scottish press, i naturally hoped for noisy injustice and unreason from the rest, seeing, as i did, the best security for the dissemination of my views through regions which they might not otherwise reach, in the certainty of a violent attack by [the 'witness'." the applause of the audience, he says, afforded him genuine satisfaction,] "because it bids me continue in the faith on which i acted, that a man who speaks out honestly and fearlessly that which he knows, and that which he believes, will always enlist the good-will and the respect, however much he may fail in winning the assent, of his fellow-men." [about this time a new field of interest was opened out to him, closely connected with, indeed, and completing, the ape question. sir charles lyell was engaged in writing his "antiquity of man," and asked huxley to supply him with various anatomical data touching the ape question, and later to draw him a diagram illustrating the peculiarities of the newly discovered neanderthal skull as compared with other skulls. he points out in his letters to lyell that the range of cranial capacity between the highest and the lowest german--"one of the mediatised princes, i suppose" [the minor princes of germany, whose territories were annexed to larger states, and who thus exchanged a direct for a mediate share in the imperial government.--or the himalayan or peruvian, is almost per cent; in absolute amount twice as much as the difference between that of the largest simian and the smallest human capacity, so that in seeking an ordinal difference between man and the apes, "it would certainly be well to let go the head, though i am afraid it does not mend matters much to lay hold of the foot." and on january , :--] i have been skull-measuring all day at the college of surgeons. the neanderthal skull may be described as a slightly exaggerated modification of one of the two types (and the lower) of australian skulls. after the fashion of accounting for the elephant of old, i suppose it will be said that it was imported. but luckily the differences, though only of degree, are rather too marked for this hypothesis. i only wish i had a clear six months to work at the subject. little did i dream what the undertaking to arrange your three woodcuts would lead to. it will come in the long-run, i believe, to a new ethnological method, new modes of measurement, a new datum line, and new methods of registration. if one had but two heads and neither required sleep! [one immediate result of his investigations, which appeared in a lecture at the royal institution (february , ), "on the fossil remains of man," was incorporated in "man's place in nature." but a more important consequence of this impulse was that he went seriously into the study of ethnology. of his work in this branch of natural science, professor virchow, speaking at the dinner given him by the english medical profession on october , , declared that in the eyes of german savants it alone would suffice to secure immortal reverence for his name. the concluding stage in the long controversy raised first at oxford, was the british association meeting at cambridge in . it was here that professor (afterwards sir w.h.) flower made his public demonstration of the existence in apes of the cerebral characters said to be peculiar to man. from the st to the th of october huxley stayed at cambridge as the guest of professor fawcett at trinity hall, running over to felixstow on the th to see his wife, whose health did not allow her to accompany him. as president of section d he had a good deal to do, and he describes the course of events in a letter to darwin:--] abbey place, october , . my dear darwin, it is a source of sincere pleasure to me to learn that anything i can say or do is a pleasure to you, and i was therefore very glad to get your letter at that whirligig of an association meeting the other day. we all missed you, but i think it was as well you did not come, for though i am pretty tough, as you know, i found the pace rather killing. nothing could exceed the hospitality and kindness of the university people--and that, together with a great deal of speaking on the top of a very bad cold, which i contrived to catch just before going down, has somewhat used me up. owen came down with the obvious intention of attacking me on all points. each of his papers was an attack, and he went so far as to offer stupid and unnecessary opposition to proposals of mine in my own committee. however, he got himself sold at all points...the polypterus paper and the aye-aye paper fell flat. the latter was meant to raise a discussion on your views, but it was all a stale hash, and i only made some half sarcastic remarks which stopped any further attempts at discussion... i took my book to scotland but did nothing. i shall ask leave to send you a bit or two as i get on. ever yours, t.h. huxley. a "society for the propagation of common honesty in all parts of the world" was established at cambridge. i want you to belong to it, but i will say more about it by and by. [this admirable society, which was also to "search for scientific truth, especially in biology," seems to have been but short lived. at all events, i can find only two references to subsequent meetings, on october and december in this year. a few days later a final blow was struck in the battle over the ape question. he writes on october how he has written a letter to the "medical times"--his last word on the subject, summing up in most emphatic terms:--] i have written the letter with the greatest care, and there is nothing coarse or violent in it. but it shall put an end to all the humbug that has been going on...rolleston will come out with his letter in the same number, and the smash will be awful, but most thoroughly merited. [these several pieces of work, struck out at different times in response to various impulses, were now combined and re-shaped into "man's place in nature," the first book which was published by him. thus he writes to sir charles lyell on may , :--] of course i shall be delighted to discuss anything with you [referring to the address on "geological contemporaneity" delivered in at the geological society.], and the more so as i mean to put the whole question before the world in another shape in my little book, whose title is announced as "evidences as to man's place in nature." i have written the first two essays, the second containing the substance of my edinburgh lecture. i recollect you once asked me for something to quote on the man question, so if you want anything in that way the ms. is at your service. [lyell looked over the proofs, and the following letters are in reply to his criticisms:--] ardrishaig, loch fyne, august , . my dear sir charles, i take advantage of my first quiet day to reply to your letter of the th; and in the first place let me thank you very much for your critical remarks, as i shall find them of great service. with regard to such matters as verbal mistakes, you must recollect that the greater part of the proof was wholly uncorrected. but the reader might certainly do his work better. i do not think you will find room to complain of any want of distinctness in my definition of owen's position touching the hippocampus question. i mean to give the whole history of the business in a note, so that the paraphrase of sir philip egerton's line "to which huxley replies that owen he lies," shall be unmistakable. i will take care about the cheiroptera, and i will look at lamarck again. but i doubt if i shall improve my estimate of the latter. the notion of common descent was not his--still less that of modification by variation--and he was as far as de maillet from seeing his way to any vera causa by which varieties might be intensified into species. if darwin is right about natural selection--the discovery of this vera causa sets him to my mind in a different region altogether from all his predecessors--and i should no more call his doctrine a modification of lamarck's than i should call the newtonian theory of the celestial motions a modification of the ptolemaic system. ptolemy imagined a mode of explaining those motions. newton proved their necessity from the laws and a force demonstrably in operation. if he is only right darwin will, i think, take his place with such men as harvey, and even if he is wrong his sobriety and accuracy of thought will put him on a far different level from lamarck. i want to make this clear to people. i am disposed to agree with you about the "emasculate" and "uncircumcised"-partly for your reasons, partly because i believe it is an excellent rule always to erase anything that strikes one as particularly smart when writing it. but it is a great piece of self-denial to abstain from expressing my peculiar antipathy to the people indicated, and i hope i shall be rewarded for the virtue. as to the secondary causes i only wished to guard myself from being understood to imply that i had any comprehension of the meaning of the term. if my phrase looks naughty i will alter it. what i want is to be read, and therefore to give no unnecessary handle to the enemy. there will be row enough whatever i do. our commission here [the fishery commission] implicates us in an inquiry of some difficulty, and which involves the interests of a great many poor people. i am afraid it will not leave me very much leisure. but we are in the midst of a charming country, and the work is not unpleasant or uninteresting. if the sun would only shine more than once a week it would be perfect. with kind remembrances to lady lyell, believe me, faithfully yours, t.h. huxley. we shall be here for the next ten days at least. but my wife will always know my whereabouts. jermyn street, march , . my dear sir charles, i suspect that the passage to which you refer must have been taken from my unrevised proofs, for it corresponds very nearly with what is written at page of my book. flower has recently discovered that the siamang's brain affords an even more curious exception to the general rule than that of mycetes, as the cerebral hemispheres leave part not only of the sides but of the hinder end of the cerebellum uncovered. as it is one of the anthropoid apes and yet differs in this respect far more widely from the gorilla than the gorilla differs from man, it offers a charming example of the value of cerebral characters. flower publishes a paper on the subject in the forthcoming number of the "n. h. review." might it not be well to allude to the fact that the existence of the posterior lobe, posterior cornu, and hippocampus in the orang has been publicly demonstrated to an audience of experts at the college of surgeons? ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the success of "man's place" was immediate, despite such criticisms as that of the "athenaeum" that "lyell's object is to make man old, huxley's to degrade him." by the middle of february it reached its second thousand; in july it is heard of as republished in america; at the same time l. buchner writes that he wished to translate it into german, but finds himself forestalled by victor carus. from another aspect, lord enniskillen, thanking him for the book, says (march ), "i believe you are already excommunicated by book, bell, and candle," while in an undated note, bollaert writes, "the bishop of oxford the other day spoke about 'the church having been in danger of late, by such books as colenso's, but that it (the church) was now restored.' and this at a time, he might have added, when the works of darwin, lyell, and huxley are torn from the hands of mudie's shopmen, as if they were novels--(see "daily telegraph," april )." at the same time, the impression left by his work upon the minds of the leading men of science may be judged from a few words of sir charles lyell, who writes to a friend on march , ("life and letters" ):-- huxley's second thousand is going off well. if he had leisure like you and me, and the vigour and logic of the lectures, and his address to the geological society, and half a dozen other recent works (letters to the "times" on darwin, etc.), had been all in one book, what a position he would occupy! i entreated him not to undertake the "natural history review" before it began. the responsibility all falls on the man of chief energy and talent; it is a quarterly mischief, and will end in knocking him up. a similar estimate appears from an earlier letter of march , ("life and letters" ), when he quotes huxley's opinion of mansel's bampton lectures on the "limits of religious thought":-- a friend of mine, huxley, who will soon take rank as one of the first naturalists we have ever produced, begged me to read these sermons as first rate,] "although, regarding the author as a churchman, you will probably compare him, as i did, to the drunken fellow in hogarth's contested election, who is sawing through the signpost at the other party's public-house, forgetting he is sitting at the other end of it. but read them as a piece of clear and unanswerable reasoning." [in the preface to the re-issue of "man's place" in the collected essays, huxley speaks as follows of the warnings he received against publishing on so dangerous a topic, of the storm which broke upon his head, and the small result which, in the long run, it produced (in september he wrote to mr. edward clodd--]"all the propositions laid down in the wicked book, which was so well anathematised a quarter of a century ago, are now taught in the text-books. what a droll world it is!"):-- magna est veritas et praevalebit! truth is great, certainly, but considering her greatness, it is curious what a long time she is apt to take about prevailing. when, towards the end of , i had finished writing "man's place in nature," i could say with a good conscience that my conclusions "had not been formed hastily or enunciated crudely." i thought i had earned the right to publish them, and even fancied i might be thanked rather than reproved for doing so. however, in my anxiety to publish nothing erroneous, i asked a highly competent anatomist and very good friend of mine to look through my proofs, and, if he could, point out any errors of fact. i was well pleased when he returned them without criticism on that score; but my satisfaction was speedily dashed by the very earnest warning as to the consequences of publication, which my friend's interest in my welfare led him to give. but, as i have confessed elsewhere, when i was a young man, there was just a little--a mere soupcon--in my composition of that tenacity of purpose which has another name; and i felt sure that all the evil things prophesied would not be so painful to me as the giving up that which i had resolved to do, upon grounds which i conceived to be right. [(as to this advice not to publish "man's place" for fear of misrepresentation on the score of morals, he said, in criticising an attack of this sort made upon darwin in the "quarterly" for july :--] "it seemed to me, however, that a man of science has no raison d'etre at all, unless he is willing to face much greater risks than these for the sake of that which he believes to be true; and further, that to a man of science such risks do not count for much--that they are by no means so serious as they are to a man of letters, for example.") so the book came out; and i must do my friend the justice to say that his forecast was completely justified. the boreas of criticism blew his hardest blasts of misrepresentation and ridicule for some years, and i was even as one of the wicked. indeed, it surprises me at times to think how anyone who had sunk so low could since have emerged into, at any rate, relative respectability. personally, like the non-corvine personages in the ingoldsby legend, i did not feel "one penny the worse." translated into several languages, the book reached a wider public than i had ever hoped for; being largely helped, i imagine, by the ernulphine advertisements to which i referred. it has had the honour of being freely utilised without acknowledgment by writers of repute; and finally it achieved the fate, which is the euthanasia of a scientific work, of being inclosed among the rubble of the foundations of later knowledge, and forgotten. to my observation, human nature has not sensibly changed during the last thirty years. i doubt not that there are truths as plainly obvious and as generally denied as those contained in "man's place in nature," now awaiting enunciation. if there is a young man of the present generation who has taken as much trouble as i did to assure himself that they are truths, let him come out with them, without troubling his head about the barking of the dogs of st. ernulphus. veritas praevalebit--some day; and even if she does not prevail in his time, he himself will be all the better and wiser for having tried to help her. and let him recollect that such great reward is full payment for all his labour and pains. [the following letter refers to the newly published "man's place in nature." miss h. darwin had suggested a couple of corrections:--] jermyn street, february , . my dear darwin, please to say to miss henrietta minos rhadamanthus darwin that i plead guilty to the justice of both criticisms, and throw myself on the mercy of the court. as extenuating circumstances with respect to indictment number , see prefatory notice. extenuating circumstance number --that i picked up "atavism" in pritchard years ago, and as it is a much more convenient word than "hereditary transmission of variations," it slipped into equivalence in my mind, and i forgot all about the original limitation. but if these excuses should in your judgment tend to aggravate my offences, suppress 'em like a friend. one may always hope more from a lady's tender-heartedness than from her sense of justice. publisher has just sent to say that i must give him any corrections for second thousand of my booklet immediately. why did not miss etty send any critical remarks on that subject by the same post? i should be most immensely obliged for them. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [during this period of special work at the anthropological side of the evolution theory, huxley made two important contributions to the general question. as secretary of the geological society, the duty of delivering the anniversary address in fell to him in the absence of the president, leonard horner, who had been driven by ill-health to winter in italy. the object at which he aimed appears from the postscript of a brief note of february , , to hooker:--] i am writing the body of the address, and i am going to criticise paleontological doctrines in general in a way that will flutter their nerves considerable. darwin is met everywhere with--oh this is opposed to paleontology, or that is opposed to paleontology--and i mean to turn round and ask, "now, messieurs les paleontologues, what the devil do you really know?" i have not changed sex, although the postscript is longer than the letter. [the delivery of the address itself on february (on "geological contemporaneity" ("collected essays" ).) is thus described by sir charles lyell (to a note of whose, proposing a talk over the subject, huxley replies on may ], "i am very glad you find something to think about in my address. that is the best of all praise.") [("life and letters" ):-- huxley delivered a brilliant critical discourse on what paleontology has and has not done, and proved the value of negative evidence, how much the progressive development system has been pushed too far, how little can be said in favour of owen's more generalised types when we go back to the vertebrata and in vertebrata of remote ages, the persistency of many forms high and low throughout time, how little we know of the beginning of life upon the earth, how often events called contemporaneous in geology are applied to things which, instead of coinciding in time, may have happened ten millions of years apart, etc.; and a masterly sketch comparing the past and present in almost every class in zoology, and sometimes of botany cited from hooker, which he said he had done because it was useful to look into the cellars and see how much gold there was there, and whether the quantity of bullion justified such an enormous circulation of paper. i never remember an address listened to with such applause, though there were many private protests against some of his bold opinions. the dinner at willis's was well attended; i should think eighty or more present...and late in the evening huxley made them merry by a sort of mock-modest speech.] jermyn street, may , . my dear darwin, i was very glad to get your note about my address. i profess to be a great stoic, you know, but there are some people from whom i am glad to get a pat on the back. still i am not quite content with that, and i want to know what you think of the argument--whether you agree with what i say about contemporaneity or not, and whether you are prepared to admit--as i think your views compel you to do--that the whole geological record is only the skimmings of the pot of life. furthermore, i want you to chuckle with me over the notion i find a great many people entertain--that the address is dead against your views. the fact being, as they will by and by wake up [to] see that yours is the only hypothesis which is not negatived by the facts,--one of its great merits being that it allows not only of indefinite standing still, but of indefinite retrogression. i am going to try to work the whole argument into an intelligible form for the general public as a chapter in my forthcoming "evidence" (one half of which i am happy to say is now written) ["evidence as to man's place in nature."], so i shall be very glad of any criticisms or hints. since i saw you--indeed, from the following tuesday onwards--i have amused myself by spending ten days or so in bed. i had an unaccountable prostration of strength which they called influenza, but which, i believe, was nothing but some obstruction in the liver. of course i can't persuade people of this, and they will have it that it is overwork. i have come to the conviction, however, that steady work hurts nobody, the real destroyer of hardworking men being not their work, but dinners, late hours, and the universal humbug and excitement of society. i mean to get out of all that and keep out of it. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the other contribution to the general question was his working men's lectures for . as he writes to darwin on october --] "i can't find anything to talk to the working men about this year but your book. i mean to give them a commentary a la coke upon lyttleton." [the lectures to working men here referred to, six in number, were duly delivered once a week from november onwards, and published in the form of as many little pamphlets. appearing under the general title, "on our knowledge of the causes of the phenomena of organic nature," they wound up with a critical examination of the portion of mr. darwin's work "on the origin of species," in relation to the complete theory of the causes of organic nature. jermyn street, december , . my dear darwin, i send you by this post three of my working men's lectures now in course of delivery. as you will see by the prefatory notice, i was asked to allow them to be taken down in shorthand for the use of the audience, but i have no interest in them, and do not desire or intend that they should be widely circulated. sometime hence, may be, i may revise and illustrate them, and make them into a book as a sort of popular exposition of your views, or at any rate of my version of your views. there really is nothing new in them nor anything worth your attention, but if in glancing over them at any time you should see anything to object to, i should like to know. i am very hard worked just now--six lectures a week, and no end of other things--but as vigorous as a three-year old. somebody told me you had been ill, but i hope it was fiction, and that you and mrs. darwin and all your belongings are flourishing. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in reply, darwin writes on december :-- i agree entirely with all your reservations about accepting the doctrine, and you might have gone further with perfect safety and truth... touching the "natural history review," "do inaugurate a great improvement, and have pages cut, like the yankees do; i will heap blessings on your head." and again, december :-- i have read numbers and . they are simply perfect. they ought to be largely advertised; but it is very good in me to say so, for i threw down number with this reflection, "what is the good of my writing a thundering big book, when everything is in this green little book so despicable for its size?" in the name of all that is good and bad i may as well shut up shop altogether. these lectures met with an annoying amount of success. they were not cast into permanent form, for he grudged the time necessary to prepare them for the press. however, he gave a mr. hardwicke permission to take them down in shorthand as delivered for the use of the audience. but no sooner were they printed, than they had a large sale. writing to sir j.d. hooker early in the following month, he says:] i fully meant to have sent you all the successive lectures as they came out, and i forward a set with all manner of apologies for my delinquency. i am such a 'umble-minded party that i never imagined the lectures as delivered would be worth bringing out at all, and i knew i had no time to work them out. now, i lament i did not publish them myself and turn an honest penny by them as i suspect hardwicke is doing. he is advertising them everywhere, confound him. i wish when you have read them you would tell me whether you think it would be worthwhile for me to re-edit, enlarge, and illustrate them by and by. [and on january sir charles lyell writes to him:-- i do grudge hardwicke very much having not only the publisher's but the author's profits. it so often happens that popular lectures designed for a class and inspired by an attentive audience's sympathy are better than any writing in the closet for the purpose of educating the many as readers, and of remunerating the publisher and author. i would lose no time in considering well what steps to take to rescue the copyright of the third thousand. as for the value of the work thus done in support of darwin's theory, it is worth while quoting the words of lord kelvin, when, as president of the royal society in , it fell to him to award huxley the darwin medal:-- to the world at large, perhaps, mr. huxley's share in moulding the thesis of natural selection is less well-known than is his bold unwearied exposition and defence of it after it had been made public. and, indeed, a speculative trifler, revelling in the problems of the "might have been," would find a congenial theme in the inquiry how soon what we now call "darwinism" would have met with the acceptance with which it has met, and gained the power which it has gained, had it not been for the brilliant advocacy with which in its early days it was expounded to all classes of men. that advocacy had one striking mark: while it made or strove to make clear how deep the new view went down, and how far it reached, it never shrank from trying to make equally clear the limit beyond which it could not go.] chapter . . - . [the letters given in the following chapters illustrate the occupations and interests of the years to , apart from the struggle over the species question. one of the most important and most engrossing was the launching of a scientific quarterly to do more systematically and thoroughly what had been done since in the fortnightly scientific column of the "saturday review." its genesis is explained in the following letter:--] july , . my dear hooker, some time ago dr. wright of dublin talked to me about the "natural history review," which i believe to a great extent belongs to him, and wanted me to join in the editorship, provided certain alterations were made. i promised to consider the matter, and yesterday he and greene dined with me, and i learned that haughton and galbraith were out of the review--that harvey was likely to go--that a new series was to begin in january, with williams and norgate for publishers over here--that it was to become an english and not a hibernian concern in fact--and finally, that if i chose to join as one of the editors, the effectual control would be pretty much in my own hands. now, considering the state of the times, and the low condition of natural history journalisation (always excepting quarterly "mic. journal") in this country this seems to me to be a fine opening for a plastically minded young man, and i am decidedly inclined to close with the offer, though i shall get nothing but extra work by it. to limit the amount of this extra work, however, i must get co-editors, and i have written to lubbock and to rolleston (also plastically minded young men) to see if they will join. now up to this point you have been in a horrid state of disgust, because you thought i was going to ask you next. but i am not, for rejoiced as i should be to have you, i know you have heaps of better work to do, and hate journalism. but can you tell me of any plastic young botanist who would come in all there glory and no pay, though i think pay may be got if the concern is properly worked. how about oliver? and though you can't and won't be an editor yourself, won't you help us and pat us on the back? the tone of the "review" will be mildly episcopophagous, and you and darwin and lyell will have a fine opportunity if you wish it of slaying your adversaries. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [several of his elder friends tried to dissuade him from an undertaking which would inevitably distract him from his proper work. sir charles lyell prophesied that all the work would drift to the most energetic member of the staff, and huxley writes to hooker, august , :--] darwin wrote me a very kind expostulation about it, telling me i ought not to waste myself on other than original work. in reply, however, i assured him that i must waste myself willy-nilly, and that the "review" was only a save-all. the more i think of it the more it seems to me it ought to answer if properly conducted, and it ought to be of great use. [the first number appeared in january . writing on the th, huxley says:--] it is pleasant to get such expressions of opinion as i have had from lyell and darwin about the review. they make me quite hopeful about its prosperity, as i am sure we shall be able to do better than our first number. [it was not long, however, before lyell's prophecy began to come true. in june huxley writes:--] it is no use letting other people look after the journal. i find unless i revise every page of it, it goes wrong. [but in july he definitely ceased to contribute:--] i did not foresee all this crush of work [he writes], when the "review" was first started, or i should not have pledged myself to any share in supplying it. [moreover, with the appointment of paid editors that year, it seemed to him] that the working editors with the credit and pay must take the responsibility of all the commissariat of the "review" upon their shoulders. two years later, in , the "review" came to an end. as mr. murray, the publisher, remarked, quarterlies did not pay; and this quarterly became still more financially unsound after the over-worked volunteers, who both edited and contributed, gave place to paid editors. but huxley was not satisfied with one defeat. the quarterly scheme had failed; he now tried if he could not serve science better by returning to a more frequent and more popular form of periodical. from to he was concerned with the "reader," a weekly issue (the committee also included professor cairns, f. galton, w.f. pollock, and j. tyndall.); but this also was too heavy a burden to be borne in addition to his other work. however, the labour expended in these ventures was not wholly thrown away. the experience thus gained at last enabled the present sir norman lockyer, who acted as science editor for the "reader," to realise what had so long been aimed at by the establishment of "nature" in . apart from his contributions to the species question and the foundation of a scientific review, huxley published in only two special monographs ("on jacare and caiman," and "on the mouth and pharynx of the scorpion," already mentioned as read in the previous year), but he read "further observations on pyrosoma" at the linnean society, and was busy with paleontological work, the results of which appeared in three papers the following year, the most important of which was the memoir called a "preliminary essay on the arrangement of the devonian fishes," in the report of the geological survey, "which," says sir m. foster, "though entitled a preliminary essay, threw an entirely new light on the affinities of these creatures, and, with the continuation published later, in , still remains a standard work." the question of the admission of ladies to the learned societies was already being mooted, and a letter to sir charles lyell gives his ideas thus early not only on this point, but on the general question of women's education.] march , . my dear sir charles, to use the only forcible expression, i "twig" your meaning perfectly, but i venture to think the parable does not apply. for the geological society is not, to my mind, a place of education for students, but a place of discussion for adepts; and the more it is applied to the former purpose the less competent it must become to fulfil the latter--its primary and most important object. i am far from wishing to place any obstacle in the way of the intellectual advancement and development of women. on the contrary, i don't see how we are to make any permanent advancement while one-half of the race is sunk, as nine-tenths of women are, in mere ignorant parsonese superstitions; and to show you that my ideas are practical i have fully made up my mind, if i can carry out my own plans, to give my daughters the same training in physical science as their brother will get, so long as he is a boy. they, at any rate, shall not be got up as man-traps for the matrimonial market. if other people would do the like the next generation would see women fit to be the companions of men in all their pursuits--though i don't think that men have anything to fear from their competition. but you know as well as i do that other people won't do the like, and five-sixths of women will stop in the doll stage of evolution to be the stronghold of parsondom, the drag on civilisation, the degradation of every important pursuit with which they mix themselves--"intrigues" in politics, and "friponnes" in science. if my claws and beak are good for anything they shall be kept from hindering the progress of any science i have to do with. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [three letters to mr. spencer show that he had been reading and criticising the proofs of the "first principles." with regard to the second letter, which gives reasons for rejecting mr. spencer's remarks about the power of inflation in birds during flight, it is curious to note mr. spencer's reply:-- how oddly the antagonism comes out even when you are not conscious of it! my authority was owen! i heard him assign this cause for the falling of wounded birds in one of his lectures at the college of surgeons.] waverley place, september , . my dear spencer, i return your proofs by this post. to my mind nothing can be better than their contents, whether in matter or in manner, and as my wife arrived, independently, at the same opinion, i think my judgment is not one-sided. there is something calm and dignified about the tone of the whole--which eminently befits a philosophical work which means to live--and nothing can be more clear and forcible than the argument. i rejoice that you have made a beginning, and such a beginning--for the more i think about it the more important it seems to me that somebody should think out into a connected system the loose notions that are floating about more or less distinctly in all the best minds. it seems as if all the thoughts in what you have written were my own, and yet i am conscious of the enormous difference your presentation of them makes in my intellectual state. one is thought in the state of hemp yarn, and the other in the state of rope. work away, then, excellent rope-maker, and make us more ropes to hold on against the devil and the parsons. for myself i am absorbed in dogs--gone to the dogs in fact--having been occupied in dissecting them for the last fortnight. you do not say how your health is. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. september , . my dear spencer, you will forgive the delay which has occurred in forwarding your proof when i tell you that we have lost our poor little son, our pet and hope. you who knew him well, and know how his mother's heart and mine were wrapped up in him, will understand how great is our affliction. he was attacked with a bad form of scarlet fever on thursday night, and on saturday night effusion on the brain set in suddenly and carried him off in a couple of hours. jessie was taken ill on friday, but has had the disease quite lightly, and is doing well. the baby has escaped. so end many hopes and plans--sadly enough, and yet not altogether bitterly. for as the little fellow was our greatest joy so is the recollection of him an enduring consolation. it is a heavy payment, but i would buy the four years of him again at the same price. my wife bears up bravely. i have read your proofs at intervals, and you must not suppose they have troubled me. on the contrary they were at times the only things i could attend to. i agree in the spirit of the whole perfectly. on some matters of detail i had doubts which i am not at present clear-headed enough to think out. the only thing i object to in toto is the illustration which i have marked at page . it is physically impossible that a bird's air-cells should be distended with air during flight, unless the structure of the parts is in reality different from anything which anatomists at present know. blowing into the trachea is not to the point. a bird cannot blow into its own trachea, and it has no mechanism for performing a corresponding action. a bird's chest is essentially a pair of bellows in which the sternum during rest and the back during flight act as movable wall. the air cells may all be represented as soft-walled bags opening freely into the bellows--there being, so far as anatomists yet know, no valves or corresponding contrivances anywhere except at the glottis, which corresponds with the nozzle and air valve both, of our bellows. but the glottis is always opened when the chest is dilated at each inspiration. how then can the air in any air-cell be kept at a higher tension than the surrounding atmosphere? hunter experimented on the uses of the air sacs, i know, but i have not his work at hand. it may be that opening one of the air-cells interferes with flight, but i hold it very difficult to conceive that the interference can take place in the way you suppose. how on earth is a lark to sing for ten minutes together if the air-cells are to be kept distended all the while he is up in the air? at any rate twenty other illustrations will answer your purpose as well, so i would not select one which may be assailed by a carping fellow like yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. october , . my dear spencer [this was written at the time when mr. spencer had issued a notice of discontinuance, and when measures were being taken to prevent it.], "a wilful man must have his way," and if you won't let me contribute towards the material guarantees for the success of your book, i must be content to add twelve shillings' worth of moral influence to that i already meant to exert per annum in its favour. i shall be most glad henceforth, as ever, to help your great undertaking in any way i can. the more i contemplate its issues the more important does it seem to me to be, and i assure you that i look upon its success as the business of all of us. so that if it were not a pleasure i should feel it a duty to "push behind" as hard as i can. have you seen this quarter's "westminster?" the opening article on "neo-christianity" is one of the most remarkable essays in its way i have ever read. i suppose it must be newman's. the "review" is terribly unequal, some of the other articles being absolutely ungrammatically written. what a pity it is it cannot be thoroughly organised. my wife is a little better, but she is terribly shattered. by the time you come back we shall, i hope, have reverted from our present hospital condition to our normal arrangements, but in any case we shall be glad to see you. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following is, i think, the first reference to his fastidiousness in the literary expression and artistic completeness of his work. as he said in an after-dinner speech at a meeting in aid of the literary fund, "science and literature are not two things, but two sides of one thing." anything that was to be published he subjected to repeated revision. and thus, apologising to hooker for his absence, he writes (august , ):--] i was sorry to have to send an excuse by tyndall the other day, but i found i must finish the pyrosoma paper, and all last tuesday was devoted to it, and i fear the next after will have the like fate. it constantly becomes more and more difficult to me to finish things satisfactorily. [to hooker also he writes a few days later:--] i hope your ear is better; take care of yourself, there's a good fellow. i can't do without you these twenty years. we have a devil of a lot to do in the way of smiting the amalekites. [between two men who seldom spoke of their feelings, but let constant intercourse attest them, these words show more than the practical side of their friendship, their community of aims and interests. quick, strong-willed, and determined as they both were, the fact that they could work together for over forty years without the shadow of a misunderstanding, presupposes an unusually strong friendship firmly based upon mutual trust and respect as well as liking, the beginning of which sir j. hooker thus describes:-- my first meeting your father was in , shortly after his return from the "rattlesnake" voyage with captain stanley. hearing that i had paid some attention to marine zoology during the voyage of the antarctic expedition, he was desirous of showing me the results of his studies of the oceanic hydrozoa, and he sought me out in consequence. this and the fact that we had both embarked in the naval service in the same capacity as medical officers and with the same object of scientific research, naturally led to an intimacy which was undisturbed by a shadow of a misunderstanding for nearly forty-five following years. curiously enough, our intercourse might have dated from an earlier period by nearly six years had i accepted an appointment to the "rattlesnake" offered me by captain stanley, which, but for my having arranged for a journey to india, might have been accepted. returning to the purpose of our interview, the researches mr. huxley laid before me were chiefly those on the salpae, a much misunderstood group of marine hydrozoa. of these i had amused myself with making drawings during the long and often weary months passed at sea on board the "erebus," but having other subjects to attend to, i had made no further study of them than as consumers of the vegetable life (diatoms) of the antarctic ocean. hence his observations on their life-history, habits, and affinities were on almost all points a revelation to me, and i could not fail to recognise in their author all the qualities possessed by a naturalist of commanding ability, industry, and power of exposition. our interviews, thus commenced, soon ripened into a friendship, which led to an arrangement for a monthly meeting, and in the informal establishment of a club of nine, the other members of which were, mr. busk, dr. frankland, mr. hirst, sir j. lubbock, mr. herbert spencer, dr. tyndall, and mr. spottiswoode. just a month after this letter to his friend, the same year which had first brought huxley public recognition outside his special sphere brought him also the greatest sorrow perhaps of his whole life. i have already spoken of the sudden death of the little son in whom so much of his own and his wife's happiness was centred. the suddenness of the blow made it all the more crushing, and the mental strain, intensified by the sight of his wife's inconsolable grief, brought him perilously near a complete breakdown. but the birth of another son, on december , gave the mother some comfort; and as the result of a friendly conspiracy between her and dr. tyndall, huxley himself was carried off for a week's climbing in wales between christmas and the new year. his reply to a long letter of sympathy in which charles kingsley set forth the grounds of his own philosophy as to the ends of life and the hope of immortality, affords insight into the very depths of his nature. it is a rare outburst at a moment of intense feeling, in which, more completely than in almost any other writing of his, intellectual clearness and moral fire are to be seen uniting in a veritable passion for truth:--] , waverley place, september , . my dear kingsley, i cannot sufficiently thank you, both on my wife's account and my own, for your long and frank letter, and for all the hearty sympathy which it exhibits--and mrs. kingsley will, i hope, believe that we are no less sensible of her kind thought of us. to myself your letter was especially valuable, as it touched upon what i thought even more than upon what i said in my letter to you. my convictions, positive and negative, on all the matters of which you speak, are of long and slow growth and are firmly rooted. but the great blow which fell upon me seemed to stir them to their foundation, and had i lived a couple of centuries earlier i could have fancied a devil scoffing at me and them--and asking me what profit it was to have stripped myself of the hopes and consolations of the mass of mankind? to which my only reply was and is--oh devil! truth is better than much profit. i have searched over the grounds of my belief, and if wife and child and name and fame were all to be lost to me one after the other as the penalty, still i will not lie. and now i feel that it is due to you to speak as frankly as you have done to me. an old and worthy friend of mine tried some three or four years ago to bring us together--because, as he said, you were the only man who would do me any good. your letter leads me to think he was right, though not perhaps in the sense he attached to his own words. to begin with the great doctrine you discuss. i neither deny nor affirm the immortality of man. i see no reason for believing in it, but, on the other hand, i have no means of disproving it. pray understand that i have no a priori objections to the doctrine. no man who has to deal daily and hourly with nature can trouble himself about a priori difficulties. give me such evidence as would justify me in believing anything else, and i will believe that. why should i not? it is not half so wonderful as the conservation of force, or the indestructibility of matter. whoso clearly appreciates all that is implied in the falling of a stone can have no difficulty about any doctrine simply on account of its marvellousness. but the longer i live, the more obvious it is to me that the most sacred act of a man's life is to say and to feel, "i believe such and such to be true." all the greatest rewards and all the heaviest penalties of existence cling about that act. the universe is one and the same throughout; and if the condition of my success in unravelling some little difficulty of anatomy or physiology is that i shall rigorously refuse to put faith in that which does not rest on sufficient evidence, i cannot believe that the great mysteries of existence will be laid open to me on other terms. it is no use to talk to me of analogies and probabilities. i know what i mean when i say i believe in the law of the inverse squares, and i will not rest my life and my hopes upon weaker convictions. i dare not if i would. measured by this standard, what becomes of the doctrine of immortality? you rest in your strong conviction of your personal existence, and in the instinct of the persistence of that existence which is so strong in you as in most men. to me this is as nothing. that my personality is the surest thing i know--may be true. but the attempt to conceive what it is leads me into mere verbal subtleties. i have champed up all that chaff about the ego and the non-ego, about noumena and phenomena, and all the rest of it, too often not to know that in attempting even to think of these questions, the human intellect flounders at once out of its depth. it must be twenty years since, a boy, i read hamilton's essay on the unconditioned, and from that time to this, ontological speculation has been a folly to me. when mansel took up hamilton's argument on the side of orthodoxy (!) i said he reminded me of nothing so much as the man who is sawing off the sign on which he is sitting, in hogarth's picture. but this by the way. i cannot conceive of my personality as a thing apart from the phenomena of my life. when i try to form such a conception i discover that, as coleridge would have said, i only hypostatise a word, and it alters nothing if, with fichte, i suppose the universe to be nothing but a manifestation of my personality. i am neither more nor less eternal than i was before. nor does the infinite difference between myself and the animals alter the case. i do not know whether the animals persist after they disappear or not. i do not even know whether the infinite difference between us and them may not be compensated by their persistence and my cessation after apparent death, just as the humble bulb of an annual lives, while the glorious flowers it has put forth die away. surely it must be plain that an ingenious man could speculate without end on both sides, and find analogies for all his dreams. nor does it help me to tell me that the aspirations of mankind--that my own highest aspirations even--lead me towards the doctrine of immortality. i doubt the fact, to begin with, but if it be so even, what is this but in grand words asking me to believe a thing because i like it. science has taught to me the opposite lesson. she warns me to be careful how i adopt a view which jumps with my preconceptions, and to require stronger evidence for such belief than for one to which i was previously hostile. my business is to teach my aspirations to conform themselves to fact, not to try and make facts harmonise with my aspirations. science seems to me to teach in the highest and strongest manner the great truth which is embodied in the christian conception of entire surrender to the will of god. sit down before fact as a little child, be prepared to give up every preconceived notion, follow humbly wherever and to whatever abysses nature leads, or you shall learn nothing. i have only begun to learn content and peace of mind since i have resolved at all risks to do this. there are, however, other arguments commonly brought forward in favour of the immortality of man, which are to my mind not only delusive but mischievous. the one is the notion that the moral government of the world is imperfect without a system of future rewards and punishments. the other is: that such a system is indispensable to practical morality. i believe that both these dogmas are very mischievous lies. with respect to the first, i am no optimist, but i have the firmest belief that the divine government (if we may use such a phrase to express the sum of the "customs of matter") is wholly just. the more i know intimately of the lives of other men (to say nothing of my own), the more obvious it is to me that the wicked does not flourish nor is the righteous punished. but for this to be clear we must bear in mind what almost all forget, that the rewards of life are contingent upon obedience to the whole law--physical as well as moral--and that moral obedience will not atone for physical sin, or vice versa. the ledger of the almighty is strictly kept, and every one of us has the balance of his operations paid over to him at the end of every minute of his existence. life cannot exist without a certain conformity to the surrounding universe--that conformity involves a certain amount of happiness in excess of pain. in short, as we live we are paid for living. and it is to be recollected in view of the apparent discrepancy between men's acts and their rewards that nature is juster than we. she takes into account what a man brings with him into the world, which human justice cannot do. if i, born a bloodthirsty and savage brute, inheriting these qualities from others, kill you, my fellow-men will very justly hang me, but i shall not be visited with the horrible remorse which would be my real punishment if, my nature being higher, i had done the same thing. the absolute justice of the system of things is as clear to me as any scientific fact. the gravitation of sin to sorrow is as certain as that of the earth to the sun, and more so--for experimental proof of the fact is within reach of us all--nay, is before us all in our own lives, if we had but the eyes to see it. not only, then, do i disbelieve in the need for compensation, but i believe that the seeking for rewards and punishments out of this life leads men to a ruinous ignorance of the fact that their inevitable rewards and punishments are here. if the expectation of hell hereafter can keep me from evil-doing, surely a fortiori the certainty of hell now will do so? if a man could be firmly impressed with the belief that stealing damaged him as much as swallowing arsenic would do (and it does), would not the dissuasive force of that belief be greater than that of any based on mere future expectations? and this leads me to my other point. as i stood behind the coffin of my little son the other day, with my mind bent on anything but disputation, the officiating minister read, as a part of his duty, the words, "if the dead rise not again, let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." i cannot tell you how inexpressibly they shocked me. paul had neither wife nor child, or he must have known that his alternative involved a blasphemy against all that was best and noblest in human nature. i could have laughed with scorn. what! because i am face to face with irreparable loss, because i have given back to the source from whence it came, the cause of a great happiness, still retaining through all my life the blessings which have sprung and will spring from that cause, i am to renounce my manhood, and, howling, grovel in bestiality? why, the very apes know better, and if you shoot their young, the poor brutes grieve their grief out and do not immediately seek distraction in a gorge. kicked into the world a boy without guide or training, or with worse than none, i confess to my shame that few men have drunk deeper of all kinds of sin than i. happily, my course was arrested in time--before i had earned absolute destruction--and for long years i have been slowly and painfully climbing, with many a fall, towards better things. and when i look back, what do i find to have been the agents of my redemption? the hope of immortality or of future reward? i can honestly say that for these fourteen years such a consideration has not entered my head. no, i can tell you exactly what has been at work. "sartor resartus" led me to know that a deep sense of religion was compatible with the entire absence of theology. secondly, science and her methods gave me a resting-place independent of authority and tradition. thirdly, love opened up to me a view of the sanctity of human nature, and impressed me with a deep sense of responsibility. if at this moment i am not a worn-out, debauched, useless carcass of a man, if it has been or will be my fate to advance the cause of science, if i feel that i have a shadow of a claim on the love of those about me, if in the supreme moment when i looked down into my boy's grave my sorrow was full of submission and without bitterness, it is because these agencies have worked upon me, and not because i have ever cared whether my poor personality shall remain distinct for ever from the all from whence it came and whither it goes. and thus, my dear kingsley, you will understand what my position is. i may be quite wrong, and in that case i know i shall have to pay the penalty for being wrong. but i can only say with luther, "gott helfe mir, ich kann nichts anders." i know right well that out of of my fellows would call me atheist, infidel, and all the other usual hard names. as our laws stand, if the lowest thief steals my coat, my evidence (my opinions being known) would not be received against him. [the law with respect to oaths was reformed in .] but i cannot help it. one thing people shall not call me with justice and that is--a liar. as you say of yourself, i too feel that i lack courage; but if ever the occasion arises when i am bound to speak, i will not shame my boy. i have spoken more openly and distinctly to you than i ever have to any human being except my wife. if you can show me that i err in premises or conclusion, i am ready to give up these as i would any other theories. but at any rate you will do me the justice to believe that i have not reached my conclusions without the care befitting the momentous nature of the problems involved. and i write this the more readily to you, because it is clear to me that if that great and powerful instrument for good or evil, the church of england, is to be saved from being shivered into fragments by the advancing tide of science--an event i should be very sorry to witness, but which will infallibly occur if men like samuel of oxford are to have the guidance of her destinies--it must be by the efforts of men who, like yourself, see your way to the combination of the practice of the church with the spirit of science. understand that all the younger men of science whom i know intimately are essentially of my way of thinking. (i know not a scoffer or an irreligious or an immoral man among them, but they all regard orthodoxy as you do brahmanism.) understand that this new school of the prophets is the only one that can work miracles, the only one that can constantly appeal to nature for evidence that it is right, and you will comprehend that it is of no use to try to barricade us with shovel hats and aprons, or to talk about our doctrines being "shocking." i don't profess to understand the logic of yourself, maurice, and the rest of your school, but i have always said i would swear by your truthfulness and sincerity, and that good must come of your efforts. the more plain this was to me, however, the more obvious the necessity to let you see where the men of science are driving, and it has often been in my mind to write to you before. if i have spoken too plainly anywhere, or too abruptly, pardon me, and do the like to me. my wife thanks you very much for your volume of sermons. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a letter written in reply to the suggestion that he should carry out hooker's own good resolutions of keeping out of the turmoil of life, and devoting himself to pure science, seems to indicate in its tone something of the stress of the time when it was written:--] jermyn street, december , . my dear hooker, what with one thing and another, i have almost forgotten to answer your note--and first, as to the business matter...next as to my own private affairs, the youngster is "a swelling wisibly," and my wife is getting on better than i hoped, though not quite so well as i could have wished. the boy's advent is a great blessing to her in all ways. for myself i hardly know yet whether it is pleasure or pain. the ground has gone from under my feet once, and i hardly know how to rest on anything again. irrational, you will say, but nevertheless natural. and finally as to your resolutions, my holy pilgrim, they will be kept about as long as the resolutions of other anchorites who are thrown into the busy world, or i won't say that, for assuredly you will take the world "as coolly as you can," and so shall i. but that coolness amounts to the red heat of properly constructed mortals. it is no use having any false modesty about the matter. you and i, if we last ten years longer, and you by a long while first, will be the representatives of our respective lines in this country. in that capacity we shall have certain duties to perform to ourselves, to the outside world, and to science. we shall have to swallow praise which is no great pleasure, and to stand multitudinous basting and irritations, which will involve a good deal of unquestionable pain. don't flatter yourself that there is any moral chloroform by which either you or i can render ourselves insensible or acquire the habit of doing things coolly. it is assuredly of no great use to tear one's self to pieces before one is fifty. but the alternative, for men constructed on the high pressure tubular boiler principle, like ourselves, is to lie still and let the devil have his own way. and i will be torn to pieces before i am forty sooner than see that. i have been privately trading on my misfortunes in order to get a little peace and quietness for a few months. if i can help it i don't mean to do any dining out this winter, and i have cut down societies to the minimum of the geological, from which i cannot get away. but it won't do to keep this up too long. by and by one must drift into the stream again, and then there is nothing for it but to pull like mad unless we want to be run down by every collier. i am going to do one sensible thing, however, viz. to rush down to llanberis with busk between christmas day and new year's day and get my lungs full of hill-air for the coming session. i was at down on saturday and saw darwin. he seems fairly well, and his daughter was up and looks better than i expected to see her. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [meanwhile, he took the opportunity to make the child's birth a new link with his old friend, and wrote as follows :--] waverley place, january , . my dear hooker, if i had nothing else to write about i must wish you a happy new year and many on 'em; but, in fact, my wife and i have a great favour to ask of you, which is neither more nor less than to stand godfather for our little son. you know my opinions on these matters, and i would not ask you to do anything i would not do myself, so if you consent, the clerk shall tell all the lies for you, and you shall be asked to do nothing else than to help devour the christening feed, and be as good a friend to the boy as you have been to his father. my wife will have the youngster christened, although i am always in a bad temper from the time it is talked about until the ceremony is over. the only way of turning the farce into a reality is by making it an extra bond with one's friends. on the other hand, if you have any objection to say, "all this i steadfastly believe," even by deputy, i know you will have no hesitation in saying so, and in giving me as frank a refusal as my request. [as against his dislike of consenting to a rite, to him meaningless, he was moved by a feeling which in part corresponded to descartes' morale par provision,--in part was an acknowledgment of the possibilities of individual development, making it only fair to a child to give it a connection with the official spiritual organisation of its country, which it could either ignore or continue on reaching intellectual maturity.] let me know if you have any fault to find with the new "review." i think you will see it would have been a dreadful business to translate all the german titles in the bibliography. i returned from a ramble about snowdon with busk and tyndall on the st, all the better. my wife is decidedly improved, though she mends but slowly. our best wishes to you and all yours. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. any fragments from the rich man's table for the next number of "n.h.r.?" waverley place, january , . my dear hooker, my wife and i were very pleased to get your hearty and kind acceptance of godfathership. we shall not call upon you for some time, i fancy, as the mistress doesn't get strong very fast. however, i am only glad she is well as she is. she came down yesterday for the first time. it is very pleasant to get such expressions of opinion as i have had from you, lyell, and darwin about the "review." they make me quite hopeful about its prosperity, as i am sure we shall be able to do better than our first number. i am glad you liked what i said in the opening of my article. [(in the "natural history review" page --]"the proof of his claim to independent parentage will not change the brutishness of man's lower nature; nor, except in those valet souls who cannot see greatness in their fellow because his father was a cobbler, will the demonstration of a pithecoid pedigree one whit diminish man's divine right of kingship over nature; nor lower the great and princely dignity of perfect manhood, which is an order of nobility not inherited, but to be won by each of us, so far as he consciously seeks good and avoids evil, and puts the faculties with which he is endowed to their fittest use.") i wish not to be in any way confounded with the cynics who delight in degrading man, or with the common run of materialists, who think mind is any the lower for being a function of matter. i dislike them even more than i do the pietists. some of these days i shall look up the ape question again, and go over the rest of the organisation in the same way. but in order to get a thorough grip of the question, i must examine into a good many points for myself. the results, when they do come out, will, i foresee, astonish the natives. i am cold-proof, and all the better for the welsh trip. to say truth, i was just on the edge of breaking down when i went. did i ever send you a letter of mine on the teaching of natural history? it was published while you were away, and i forget whether i sent it or not. however, a copy accompanies this note... of course there will be room for your review and welcome. i have put it down and reckon on it. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [huxley returned from the trip to wales in time to be with his wife for the new year. the plot she had made with dr. tyndall had been entirely successful. the threatened breakdown was averted. wales in winter was as good as switzerland. of the ascent of snowdon he writes on december :] "both tyndall and i voted it under present circumstances as good as most things alpine." [his wife, however, continued in very weak health. she was prostrated by the loss of her little boy. so in the middle of march he gladly accepted mr. darwin's invitation for her and the three children to spend a fortnight in the quiet of his house at down, where he himself managed to run down for a week end.] "it appears to me," [he writes to his wife,] "that you are subjecting poor darwin to a savage tennysonian persecution. i shall see him looking like a martyr and across talk double science next sunday." [in april another good friend, dr. bence jones, lent the invalid his house at folkestone for three months. unable even to walk when she went there, her recovery was a slow business. huxley ran down every week; his brother george and his wife also were frequent visitors. meanwhile he resolved to move into a new house, in order that she might not return to a place so full of sorrowful memories. on may he effected the move to a larger house not half a mile away from waverley place-- abbey place (now abercorn place). here also mrs. heathorn lived for the next year, my grandfather, over seventy as he was, being compelled to go out again to australia to look after a business venture of his which had come to grief. meantime the old house was still on his hands for another year. trying to find a tenant, he writes on may , :--] i met j. tyndall at ramsay's last night, and i think he is greatly inclined to have the house. i gave him your message and found that a sneaking kindness for the old house actuated him a good deal in wishing to take it. it is not a bad fellow, and we won't do him much on the fixtures. [eventually tyndall and his friend hirst established themselves there. this spring professor henslow, mrs. hooker's father, a botanist of the first rank, and a man extraordinarily beloved by all who came in contact with him, was seized with a mortal illness, and lingered on without hope of recovery through almost the whole of april. huxley writes:--] jermyn street, april , . my dear hooker, i am very much grieved and shocked by your letter. the evening before last i heard from busk that your father-in-law had been ill, and that you had been to see him, and i meant to have written to you yesterday to inquire, but it was driven out of my head by people coming here. and then i had a sort of unreasonable notion that i should see you at the linnean council to-day and hear that all was right again. god knows, i feel for you and your poor wife. knowing what a great rift the loss of a mere undeveloped child will leave in one's life, i can faintly picture to myself the great and irreparable vacuity in a family circle caused by the vanishing out of it of such a man as henslow, with great acquirements, and that great calm catholic judgment and sense which always seemed to me more prominent in him than in any man i ever knew. he had intellect to comprehend his highest duty distinctly, and force of character to do it; which of us dare ask for a higher summary of his life than that? for such a man there can be no fear in facing the great unknown, his life has been one long experience of the substantial justice of the laws by which this world is governed, and he will calmly trust to them still as he lays his head down for his long sleep. you know all these things as well as i do, and i know as well as you do that such thoughts do not cure heartache or assuage grief. such maladies, when men are as old as you and i are, are apt to hang about one a long time, but i find that if they are faced and accepted as part of our fair share of life, a great deal of good is to be got out of them. you will find that too, but in the meanwhile don't go and break yourself down with over wear and tear. the heaviest pull comes after the excitement of a catastrophe of this kind is over. believe in my affectionate sympathy with you, and that i am, my dear old fellow, yours ever, t.h. huxley. [and again on the th:--] many thanks for your two letters. it would be sad to hear of life dragging itself out so painfully and slowly, if it were not for what you tell me of the calmness and wisdom with which the poor sufferer uses such strength as is left him. one can express neither wish nor hope in such a case. with such a man what is will be well. all i have to repeat is, don't knock yourself up. i wish to god i could help you in some way or other beyond repeating the parrot cry. if i can, of course you will let me know. [in june a jotting in his notebook records that he is at work on the chick's skull, part of the embryological work which he took up vigorously at this time, and at once the continuation of his researches on the vertebrate skull, embodied in his croonian lecture of , and the beginning of a long series of investigations into the structure of birds. there is a reference to this in a very interesting letter dealing chiefly with what he conceived to be the cardinal point of the darwinian theory:--] abbey place, september , . my dear hooker, yesterday being the first day i went to the athenaeum after reading your note, i had a look at, and a good laugh over, the "quarterly" article. who can be the writer? i have been so busy studying chicken development, a difficult subject to which i had long ago made up my mind to devote my first spare time, that i have written you no word about your article in the "gardener's chronicle." i quite agree with the general tendency of your argument, though it seems to me that you put your view rather too strongly when you seem to question the position "that, as a rule, resemblances prevail over differences" between parent and offspring. surely, as a rule, resemblances do prevail over differences, though i quite agree with you that the latter have been far too much overlooked. the great desideratum for the species question at present seems to me to be the determination of the law of variation. because no law has yet been made out, darwin is obliged to speak of variation as if it were spontaneous or a matter of chance, so that the bishops and superior clergy generally (the only real atheists and believers in chance left in the world) gird at him as if he were another lucretius. it is [in] the recognition of a tendency to variation apart from the variation of what are ordinarily understood as external conditions that darwin's view is such an advance on lamarck. why does not somebody go to work experimentally, and get at the law of variation for some one species of plant? what a capital article that was in the "athenaeum" the other day apud the schlagintweits. [the brothers schlagintweit (four of whom were ultimately employed), who had gained some reputation for their work on the physical geography of the alps, were, on humboldt's recommendation, despatched by the east india company in - - to the deccan, and especially to the himalayan region (where they were the first europeans to cross the kuenlun mountains), in order to correlate the instruments and observations of the several magnetic surveys of india. but they enlarged the scope of their mission by professing to correct the great trigonometrical survey, while the contract with them was so loosely drawn up that they had practically a roving commission in science, to make researches and publish the results--up to nine volumes--in all manner of subjects, which in fact ranged from the surveying work to ethnology, and were crowned by an additional volume on buddhism! the original cost to the indian government was estimated at thousand pounds sterling; the allowances from the english government during the inordinately prolonged period of arranging and publishing materials, including payment for sixty copies of each volume, atlas, and so forth, as well as personal payments, came to as much more. unfortunately the results were of less value than was expected. the attempt to correct the work done with the large instruments of the trigonometrical survey by means of far smaller instruments was absurd; away from the ground covered by the great survey the figures proved to be very inaccurate. the most annoying part of the affair was that it absorbed the state aid which might have been given to more valuable researches. the council of the royal society had been consulted as to the advisability of despatching this expedition and opposed it, for there were in the service of the company not a few men admirably qualified for the duty, whose scientific services had received scant appreciation. nevertheless, the expedition started after all, with the approval of colonel sabine, the president. in the last months of , huxley drew up for the royal society a report upon the scientific value of the results of the expedition.] don roderigo is very wroth at being made responsible with sabine, and indeed i think he had little enough to do with it. you will see a letter from him in this week's "athenaeum." ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . - . [it has been seen that the addition of journalistic work in science to the mass of original research and teaching work upon which huxley was engaged, called forth a remonstrance from both lyell and darwin. to hooker it seemed still more serious that he was dividing his allegiance, and going far afield in philosophy, instead of concentrating himself upon natural science. he writes:-- i am sorry to hear that you are so poorly, and wish i could help you to sit down and work quietly at pure science. you have got into a whirlpool, and should stroke vigorously at the proper angle, not attempt to breast the whole force of the current, nor yet give in to it. do take the counsel of a quiet looker on and withdraw to your books and studies in pure natural history; let modes of thought alone. you may make a very good naturalist, or a very good metaphysician (of that i know nothing, don't despise me), but you have neither time nor place for both. however, it must be remarked that this love of philosophy, not recently acquired either, was only part of the passion for general principles underlying the facts of science which had always possessed him. and the time expended upon it was not directly taken from the hours of scientific work; he would read in bed through the small hours of the night, when sleep was slow in coming to him. in this way he got through an immense amount of philosophy in the course of several years. not that he could "state the views of so and so" upon any given question, or desired such kind of knowledge; he wished to find out and compare with his own the answers which other thinkers gave to the problems which interested himself. a gentler reproof of this time touches his handwriting, which was never of the most legible, so that his foreign correspondents in particular sometimes complained. haeckel used to get his difficulties deciphered by his colleague gegenbaur. i cannot forbear quoting the delicate remonstrance of professor lacaze du thiers, and the flattering remedy he proposed:-- march . je lis l'anglais imprime, mais vos ecritures anglaises sont si rapides, qu'il m'est quelquefois difficile de m'en sortir. on me dit que vous ecrivez si bien le francais que je crois que je vous lirais bien mieux dans ma langue! on his return from examining at dublin, he again looked over proofs for mr. spencer.] jermyn street, august , . my dear spencer, i have been absent on a journey to dublin and elsewhere [visiting sir philip egerton at oulton park.] nearly all this week, and hence your note and proof did not reach me till yesterday. i have but just had time to glance through the latter, and i need hardly say how heartily i concur in its general tenor. i have, however, marked one or two passages which i think require some qualification. then, at page , the fact that the vital manifestations of plants depend as entirely as those of animals upon the fall towards stable equilibrium of the elements of a complex protein compound is not sufficiently prominent. it is not so much that plants are deoxidisers and animals oxidisers, as that plants are manufacturers and animals consumers. it is true that plants manufacture a good deal of non-nitrogenous produce in proportion to the nitrogenous, but it is the latter which is chiefly useful to the animal consumer and not the former. this point is a very important one, which i have never seen clearly and distinctly put--the prettiness of dumas' circulation of the elements having seduced everybody. of course this in no way affects the principle of what you say. the statements which i have marked at page and should have their authorities given, i think. i should hardly like to commit myself to them absolutely. you will, if my memory does not mislead me, find authority for my note at page in stephenson's life. i think old george stephenson brought out his views at breakfast at sir r. peel's when buckland was there. these are all the points that strike me, and i do not keep your proof any longer (i send it by the same post as this note), because i fear you may be inconvenienced by the delay. tyndall is unfortunately gone to switzerland, so that i cannot get you his comments. whether he might have picked holes in any detail or not i do not know, but i know his opinions sufficiently well to make sure in his agreement with the general argument. in fact a favourite problem of his is--given the molecular forces in a mutton chop, deduce hamlet or faust therefrom. he is confident that the physics of the future will solve this easily. i am grieved to hear such a poor account of your health; i believe you will have to come at last to the heroic remedy of matrimony, and if "gynopathy" were a mode of treatment that could be left off if it did not suit the constitution, i should decidedly recommend it. but it's worse than opium-eating--once begun and you must go on, and so, though i ascribe my own good condition mainly to the care my wife takes of me, i dare not recommend it to you, lest perchance you should get hold of the wrong medicine. beyond spending a night awake now and then i am in very good order, and i am going to spend my vacation in a spasmodic effort to lick the "manual" into shape and work off some other arrears. my wife is very fairly well, and, i trust, finally freed from all the symptoms which alarmed me so much. i dread the coming round of september for her again, but it must be faced. the babbies are flourishing; and beyond the facts that we have a lunatic neighbour on one side and an empty house on the other, that it has cost me about twice as much to get into my house as i expected, that the cistern began to leak and spoil a ceiling, and such other small drawbacks, the new house is a decided success. i forget whether i gave you the address, which is-- abbey place, st. john's wood. you had better direct to me there, as after the th of this month i shall not be here for six weeks. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [october shows an unusual entry in his diary; the sacrifice of a working evening to hear jenny lind sing. fond though he was of music, as those may remember who ever watched his face at the sunday evening gatherings in marlborough place in the later seventies, when there was sure to be at least a little good music or singing either from his daughters or some of the guests, he seldom could spare the time for concert-going or theatre-going, and the occasional notes of his bachelor days, "to the opera with spencer," had ceased as his necessary occupations grew more engrossing. this year his friend hooker moved to kew to act as second in command to his father, sir william hooker, the director of the botanical gardens. this move made meetings between the two friends, except at clubs and societies, more difficult, and was one of the immediate causes of the foundation of the x club. it is this move which is referred to in the following letters; the "poor client" being the wife of an old messmate of his on the "rattlesnake":--] jermyn street, november . my dear hooker, my wife wrote to yours yesterday, the enclosed note explaining the kitchen-revolution which, it seems, must delay our meeting. when she had done, however, she did not know where to direct it, and i am no wiser, so i send it to you. it's a horrid nuisance and i have sworn a few, but that will not cook the dinner, however much it may prepare me for being cooked elsewhere. to complete my disgust at things in general, my wife is regularly knocked up with dining out twice this week, though it was only in the quietest way. i shall have to lock her up altogether. x-- has made a horrid mess of it, and i am sorry to say, from what i know of him, that i cannot doubt where the fault lies. the worst of it is that he has a wife and three children over here, left without a penny or any means of support. the poor woman wrote to me the other day, and when i went to see her i found her at the last shilling and contemplating the workhouse as her next step. she has brothers in australia, and it appeared to me that the only way to do her any good was to get her out. she cannot starve there, and there will be more hope for her children than an english poor-house. i am going to see if the emigration commissioners will do anything for her, as of course it is desirable to cut down the cost of exportation to the smallest amount. it is most lamentable that a man of so much ability should have so utterly damned himself as x-- has, but he is hopelessly celtic. i shall be at the phil. club next thursday. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. waverley place, monday morning [november ]. my dear hooker, the obstinate manner in which mrs. hooker and you go on refusing to give any address leads us to believe that you are dwelling peripatetically in a "wan" with green door and brass knocker somewhere on wormwood scrubbs, and that "kew" is only a blind. so you see i am obliged to inclose mrs. hooker's epistle to you. you shall have your own way about the dinner, though we shall have triumphed over all domestic difficulties by that time, and the first lieutenant scorns the idea of being "worrited" about anything. i only grieve it is such a mortal long way for you to come. i could find it in my heart to scold you well for your generous aid to my poor client. i assure you i told you all about the case because it was fresh in my mind, and without the least notion of going to you for that kind of aid. may it come back to you in some good shape or other. i find it is no use to look for help from the emigration people, but i have no fear of being able to get the pounds sterling which will send them out by the "walter hood." would it be fair to apply to bell in such a case? i will have a talk to you about it at the phil. club. ever, my dear hooker, yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in , in addition to all the work connected with the species question already detailed, huxley published three paleontological papers ("on the new labyrinthodonts from the coal-field of edinburgh"; "on a stalk-eyed crustacean from the coal-fields of paisley"; and "on the teeth of diprotodon."), while the paper on the "anatomy and development of pyrosoma," first read on december , , was now published in the "proceedings of the linnean society." in the list of work in hand are four paleontological papers, besides the slowly progressing "manual of comparative anatomy." ("on indian fossils," on "cephalaspis and pteraspis," on "stagonolepis," and a "memoir descriptive of labyrinthodont remains from the trias and coal of britain," which he first treated of in , "clearly establishing for the first time the vertebrate nature of these remains."--sir m. foster, obituary notice "proceedings of the royal society" .) when he went north to deliver his lectures at edinburgh "on the relation of man to the lower animals," he took the opportunity of examining fossils at forfar, and lectured also at glasgow; while at easter he went to ireland; on march he was at dublin, lecturing there on the th. reference has already been made (in the letter to c. darwin of may , ) to the unsatisfactory state of huxley's health. he was further crippled by neuralgic rheumatism in his arm and shoulder, and to get rid of this, went on july to switzerland for a month's holiday. reaching grindelwald on the th, he was joined on the th by dr. tyndall, and with him rambled on the glacier and made an expedition to the faulhorn. on the th they went to the rhone glacier, meeting sir j. lubbock on their way, at the other side of the grimsel. both here and at the eggischhorn, where they went a few days later, huxley confined himself to easy expeditions, or, as his notebook has it, stayed "quiet" or "idle," while the hale pair ascended the galenstock and the jungfrau. by july he was home again in time for an examiners' meeting at the london university the next day, and a viva voce in physiology on the th august, before going to scotland to serve on the fishery commission. this was the first of the numerous commissions on which he served. with his colleagues, dr. lyon playfair (afterwards lord playfair) and colonel maxwell, he was busy from august to september , chiefly on the west coast, taking evidence from the trawlers and their opponents, and making direct investigations into the habits of the herring. the following letter to mr. (afterwards sir w.h.) flower, then curator of the royal college of surgeons' museum, refers to this trip and to his appointment to the examinership in physiology at the college of surgeons, for which he had applied in may and which he held until . mr. flower, indeed, was deeply interested at this time in the same problems as huxley, and helped his investigations for "man's place" by making a number of dissections to test the disputed relations between the brain of man and of the apes.] hotel de la jungfrau, aeggischhorn, july , . my dear flower, many thanks for your letter. i shall make my acknowledgments to the council in due form when i have read the official announcement on my return to england. i trust they will not have occasion to repent declining dr. --'s offer. at any rate i shall do my best. i am particularly obliged to you for telling me about the dijon bones. dijon lies quite in my way in returning to england, and i shall stop a day there for the purpose of making the acquaintance of m. nodet and his schizopleuron. i have a sort of dim recollection that there are some other remains of extinct south american mammals in the dijon museum which i ought to see. your news about the lower jaw made me burst out into such an exclamation that all the salle-a-manger heard me! i saw the fitness of the thing at once. the foramen and the shape of the condyle ought to have suggested it at once. i have had a very pleasant trip, passing through grindelwald, the aar valley, and the rhone valley, as far as here; but, up to the day before yesterday, my health remained very unsatisfactory, and i was terribly teased by the neuralgia or rheumatism or whatever it is. on that day, however, i had a very sharp climb involving a great deal of exertion and a most prodigious sweating, and on the next morning i really woke up a new man. yesterday i repeated the dose and i am in hopes now that i shall come back fit to grapple with all the work that lies before me. ever, my dear flower, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this autumn he gladly took on what appeared to be an additional piece of work. on october he writes from abbey place:--] i saw flower yesterday, and i find that my present colleague in the hunterian professorship wishes to get rid of his share in the lectures, having, i suppose, at the eleventh hour discovered his incompetency. it looks paradoxical to say so, but it will really be easier for me to give eighteen or twenty-four lectures than twelve, so that i have professed my readiness to take as much as he likes off his hands. [this professorship had been in existence for more than sixty years, for when the museum of the famous anatomist john hunter was entrusted to the college of surgeons by the government, the condition was made that "one course of lectures, not less than twenty-four in number, on comparative anatomy and other subjects, illustrated by the preparations, shall be given every year by some member of the company." huxley arranged to publish from year to year the substance of his lectures on the vertebrates, "and by that process to bring out eventually a comprehensive, though condensed, systematic work on 'comparative anatomy'." ("comparative anatomy" volume preface.) of the labour entailed in this course, the late sir w.h. flower wrote:-- when, in , he was appointed to the hunterian professorship at the college of surgeons, he took for the subject of several yearly courses of lectures the anatomy of the vertebrata, beginning with the primates, and as the subject was then rather new to him, and as it was a rule with him never to make a statement in a lecture which was not founded upon his own actual observation, he set to work to make a series of original dissections of all the forms he treated of. these were carried on in the workroom at the top of the college, and mostly in the evenings, after his daily occupation at jermyn street (the school of mines, as it was then called) was over, an arrangement which my residence in the college buildings enabled me to make for him. these rooms contained a large store of material, entire or partially dissected animals preserved in spirit, which, unlike those mounted in the museum, were available for further investigation in any direction, and these, supplemented occasionally by fresh subjects from the zoological gardens, formed the foundation of the lectures...on these evenings it was always my privilege to be with him, and to assist in the work in which he was engaged. in dissecting, as in everything else, he was a very rapid worker, going straight to the point he wished to ascertain with a firm and steady hand, never diverted into side issues, nor wasting any time in unnecessary polishing up for the sake of appearances; the very opposite, in fact, to what is commonly known as "finikin." his great facility for bold and dashing sketching came in most usefully in this work, the notes he made being largely helped out with illustrations. the following is the letter in which he makes himself known to professor haeckel of jena, who, in his thanks for the specimens, bewails the lot of "us poor inland germans, who have to get help from england."] the royal school of mines, jermyn street, october , . sir, a copy of your exceedingly valuable and beautiful monograph, "die radiolarien," came into my hands two or three days ago, and i have been devoting the little leisure i possess just at present to a careful study of its contents, which are to me profoundly interesting and instructive. permit me to say this much by way of introduction to a request which i have to prefer, which is, that you will be good enough to let me have a copy of your habitationsschrift, "de rhizopodum finibus," if you have one to spare. if it is sent through frommans of jena to the care of messrs. williams and norgate, london, it will reach me safely. i observe that in your preface you state that you have no specimen of the famous barbadoes deposit. as i happen to possess some from schomburgk's own collection, i should be ashamed to allow you any longer to suffer from that want, and i beg your acceptance of the inclosed little packet. if this is not sufficient, pray let me know and i will send you as much more. if you desire it, i can also send you some of the oran earth, and as much as you like of the atlantic deep-sea soundings, which are almost entirely made up of globigerina and polycistina. i am, sir, yours very faithfully, thomas h. huxley. [the next letter refers to the scientific examinations at the university of london.] december , . my dear hooker, i look upon you as art and part of the "natural history review," though not ostensibly one of the gang, so i bid you to a feast, partly of reason and partly of mutton, at my house on december (being this day week) at half-past six. do come if you can, for we have not seen your ugly old phiz for ages, and should be comforted by an inspection thereof, however brief. i did my best yesterday to get separate exhibitions for chemistry, botany, and zoological biology, at the committee yesterday [at the london university.], and i suspect from your letter that if you had been there you would have backed me. however, it is clear that they only mean to give separate exhibits for chemistry and biology as a whole. because botany and zoology are, philosophically speaking, cognate subjects, people are under the delusion that it is easier to work both up at the same time, than it would be to work up, say, chemistry and botany. just fancy asking a young man who has heaps of other things to work up for the b.sc., to qualify himself for honours both in botany, histological, systematic, and physiological. that is to say, to get a practical knowledge of both these groups of subjects. i really think the botanical and zoological examiners ought to memorialise the senate jointly on the subject. the present system leads to mere sham and cram. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the year , notable for the publication of huxley's first book, found him plunged deep in an immense quantity of work of all sorts. he was still examiner in physiology and comparative anatomy at the london university, a post he held from to , and again from to , "making," as sir michael foster says, "even an examination feel the influence of the new spirit in biology; and among his examinees at that time there was one at least who, knowing huxley by his writings, but by his writings only, looked forward to the viva voce test, not as a trial, but as an occasion of delight." in addition to the work mentioned in the following letters, i note three lectures at hull on april , , and ; a paper on "craniology" (january ), and his "letter on the human remains in the shell mounds," in the "ethnological society's transactions," while the fishery commission claimed much of his time, either at the board of trade, or travelling over the north, east, and south coasts from the end of july to the beginning of october, and again in november and december.] jermyn street, april , . my dear kingsley, i am exceedingly pleased to have your good word about the lectures,--and i think i shall thereby be encouraged to do what a great many people have wished--that is, to bring out an enlarged and revised edition of them. the only difficulty is time--if one could but work five-and-twenty hours a day! with respect to the sterility question, i do not think there is much doubt as to the effect of breeding in and in in destroying fertility. but the sterility which must be obtained by the selective breeder in order to convert his morphological species into physiological species--such as we have in nature--must be quite irrespective of breeding in and in. there is no question of breeding in and in between a horse and an ass, and yet their produce is usually a sterile hybrid. so if carrier and tumbler, e.g., were physiological species equivalent to horse and ass, their progeny ought to be sterile or semi-sterile. so far as experience has gone, on the contrary, it is perfectly fertile--as fertile as the progeny of carrier and carrier or tumbler and tumbler. from the first time that i wrote about darwin's book in the "times" and in the "westminster" until now, it has been obvious to me that this is the weak point of darwin's doctrine. he has shown that selective breeding is a vera causa for morphological species; he has not yet shown it a vera causa for physiological species. but i entertain little doubt that a carefully devised system of experimentation would produce physiological species by selection--only the feat has not been performed yet. i hope you received a copy of "man's place in nature," which i desired should be sent to you long ago. don't suppose i ever expect an acknowledgment of the book--it is one of the greatest nuisances in the world to have that to do, and i never do it--but as you mentioned the lectures and not the other, i thought it might not have reached you. if it has not, pray let me know and a copy shall be forwarded, as i want you very much to read essay number . i have a great respect for all the old bottles, and if the new wine can be got to go into them and not burst them i shall be very glad--i confess i do not see my way to it; on the contrary, the longer i live and the more i learn the more hopeless to my mind becomes the contradiction between the theory of the universe as understood and expounded by jewish and christian theologians, and the theory of the universe which is every day and every year growing out of the application of scientific methods to its phenomena. whether astronomy and geology can or cannot be made to agree with the statements as to the matters of fact laid down in genesis--whether the gospels are historically true or not--are matters of comparatively small moment in the face of the impassable gulf between the anthropomorphism (however refined) of theology and the passionless impersonality of the unknown and unknowable which science shows everywhere underlying the thin veil of phenomena. here seems to me to be the great gulf fixed between science and theology--beside which all colenso controversies, reconcilements of scripture a la pye smith, etc., cut a very small figure. you must have thought over all this long ago; but steeped as i am in scientific thought from morning till night, the contrast has perhaps a greater vividness to me. i go into society, and except among two or three of my scientific colleagues i find myself alone on these subjects, and as hopelessly at variance with the majority of my fellow-men as they would be with their neighbours if they were set down among the ashantees. i don't like this state of things for myself--least of all do i see how it will work out for my children. but as my mind is constituted, there is no way out of it, and i can only envy you if you can see things differently. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, may , . my dear kingsley, my wife and children are away at felixstow on the suffolk coast, and as i run down on saturday and come back on monday your ms. has been kept longer than it should have been. i am quite agreed with the general tenor of your argument; and indeed i have often argued against those who maintain the intellectual gulf between man and the lower animals to be an impassable one, by pointing to the immense intellectual chasm as compared to the structural differences between two species of bees or between sheep and goat or dog and wolf. so again your remarks upon the argument drawn from the apparent absence of progression in animals seem to me to be quite just. you might strengthen them much by reference to the absence of progression in many races of men. the west african savage, as the old voyagers show, was in just the same condition two hundred years ago as now--and i suspect that the modern patagonian is as nearly as possible the unimproved representative of the makers of the flint implements of abbeville. lyell's phrase is very good, but it is a simple application of darwin's views to human history. the advance of mankind has everywhere depended on the production of men of genius; and that production is a case of "spontaneous variation" becoming hereditary, not by physical propagation, but by the help of language, letters and the printing press. newton was to all intents and purposes a "sport" of a dull agricultural stock, and his intellectual powers are to a certain extent propagated by the grafting of the "principia," his brain-shoot, on us. many thanks for your letter. it is a great pleasure to me to be able to speak out to any one who, like yourself, is striving to get at truth through a region of intellectual and moral influences so entirely distinct from those to which i am exposed. i am not much given to open my heart to anybody, and on looking back i am often astonished at the way in which i threw myself and my troubles at your head, in those bitter days when my poor boy died. but the way in which you received my heathen letters set up a freemasonry between us, at any rate on my side; and if they make you a bishop i advise you not to let your private secretary open any letters with my name in the corner, for they are as likely as not to contain matters which will make the clerical hair stand on end. i am too much a believer in butler and in the great principle of the "analogy" that "there is no absurdity in theology so great that you cannot parallel it by a greater absurdity of nature" (it is not commonly stated in this way), to have any difficulties about miracles. i have never had the least sympathy with the a priori reasons against orthodoxy, and i have by nature and disposition the greatest possible antipathy to all the atheistic and infidel school. nevertheless, i know that i am, in spite of myself, exactly what the christian world call, and, so far as i can see, are justified in calling, atheist and infidel. i cannot see one shadow or tittle of evidence that the great unknown underlying the phenomena of the universe stands to us in the relation of a father--loves us and cares for us as christianity asserts. on the contrary, the whole teaching of experience seems to me to show that while the governance (if i may use the term) of the universe is rigorously just and substantially kind and beneficent, there is no more relation of affection between governor and governed than between me and the twelve judges. i know the administrators of the law desire to do their best for everybody, and that they would rather not hurt me than otherwise, but i also know that under certain circumstances they will most assuredly hang me; and that in any case it would be absurd to suppose them guided by any particular affection for me. this seems to me to be the relation which exists between the cause of the phenomena of this universe and myself. i submit to it with implicit obedience and perfect cheerfulness, and the more because my small intelligence does not see how any other arrangement could possibly be got to work as the world is constituted. but this is what the christian world calls atheism, and because all my toil and pains does not enable me to see my way to any other conclusion than this, a christian judge would (if he knew it) refuse to take my evidence in a court of justice against that of a christian ticket-of-leave man. so with regard to the other great christian dogmas, the immortality of the soul, and the future state of rewards and punishments, what possible objection a priori can i--who am compelled perforce to believe in the immortality of what we call matter and force and in a very unmistakable present state of rewards and punishments for all our deeds--have to these doctrines? give me a scintilla of evidence, and i am ready to jump at them. but read butler, and see to what drivel even his great mind descends when he has to talk about the immortality of the soul! i have never seen an argument on that subject which from a scientific point of view is worth the paper it is written upon. all resolve themselves into this formula:--the doctrine of the immortality of the soul is very pleasant and very useful, therefore it is true. all the grand language about "human aspiration," "consistency with the divine justice," etc., etc., collapses into this at last--better the misery of the "vale! in aeternum vale!" ten times over than the opium of such empty sophisms--i have drunk of that cup to the bottom. i am called away and must close my letter. don't trouble to answer it unless you are so minded. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, may , . my dear kingsley, pray excuse my delay in replying to your letter. i have been very much pressed for time for these two or three days. first touching the action of the spermatozoon. the best information you can find on the subject is, i think, in newport's papers in the "philosophical transactions" for , , and , especially the paper. newport treats only of the frog, but the information he gives is very full and definite. allen thomson's very accurate and learned article "ovum" in todd's "cyclopaedia" is also well worth looking through, though unfortunately it is least full just where you want most information. in french there is coste's "developpement des corps organises" and the volume on "development" by bischoff in the french translation of the last edition of soemmering's "anatomy." so much for your inquiries as to the matters of fact. next, as to questions of speculation. if any expression of ignorance on my part will bring us nearer we are likely to come into absolute contact, for the possibilities of "may be" are, to me, infinite. i know nothing of necessity, abominate the word law (except as meaning that we know nothing to the contrary), and am quite ready to admit that there may be some place, "other side of nowhere," par exemple, where + = , and all bodies naturally repel one another instead of gravitating together. i don't know whether matter is anything distinct from force. i don't know that atoms are anything but pure myths. cogito, ergo sum is to my mind a ridiculous piece of bad logic, all i can say at any time being "cogito." the latin form i hold to be preferable to the english "i think," because the latter asserts the existence of an ego--about which the bundle of phenomena at present addressing you knows nothing. in fact, if i am pushed, metaphysical speculation lands me exactly where your friend raphael was when his bitch pupped. in other words, i believe in hamilton, mansell and herbert spencer so long as they are destructive, and i laugh at their beards as soon as they try to spin their own cobwebs. is this basis of ignorance broad enough for you? if you, theologian, can find as firm footing as i, man of science, do on this foundation of minus nought--there will be nought to fear for our ever diverging. for you see i am quite as ready to admit your doctrine that souls secrete bodies as i am the opposite one that bodies secrete souls--simply because i deny the possibility of obtaining any evidence as to the truth and falsehood of either hypothesis. my fundamental axiom of speculative philosophy is that materialism and spiritualism are opposite poles of the same absurdity--the absurdity of imagining that we know anything about either spirit or matter. cabanis and berkeley (i speak of them simply as types of schools) are both asses, the only difference being that one is a black donkey and the other a white one. this universe is, i conceive, like to a great game being played out, and we poor mortals are allowed to take a hand. by great good fortune the wiser among us have made out some few of the rules of the game, as at present played. we call them "laws of nature," and honour them because we find that if we obey them we win something for our pains. the cards are our theories and hypotheses, the tricks our experimental verifications. but what sane man would endeavour to solve this problem: given the rules of a game and the winnings, to find whether the cards are made of pasteboard or goldleaf? yet the problem of the metaphysicians is to my mind no saner. if you tell me that an ape differs from a man because the latter has a soul and the ape has not, i can only say it may be so; but i should uncommonly like to know how either that the ape has not one or that the man has. and until you satisfy me as to the soundness of your method of investigation, i must adhere to what seems to my mind a simpler form of notation--i.e. to suppose that all phenomena have the same substratum (if they have any), and that soul and body, or mental and physical phenomena, are merely diverse manifestations of that hypothetical substratum. in this way, it seems to me, i obey the rule which works so well in practice, of always making the simplest possible suppositions. on the other hand, if you are of a different opinion, and find it more convenient to call the x which underlies (hypothetically) mental phenomena, soul, and the x which underlies (hypothetically) physical phenomena, body, well and good. the two-fluid theory and the one-fluid theory of electricity both accounted for the phenomena up to a certain extent, and both were probably wrong. so it may be with the theories that there is only one x in nature or two x's or three x's. for, if you will think upon it, there are only four possible ontological hypotheses now that polytheism is dead. . there is no x = atheism on berkeleyan principles. . there is only one x = materialism or pantheism, according as you turn it heads or tails. . there are two x's: spirit and matter = speculators incertae sedis. . there are three x's: god, souls, matter = orthodox theologians. to say that i adopt any one of those hypotheses, as a representation of fact, would to my mind be absurd; but number is the one i can work with best. to return to my metaphor, it chimes in better with the rules of the game of nature than any other of the four possibilities, to my mind. but who knows when the great banker may sweep away table and cards and all, and set us learning a new game? what will become of all my poor counters then? it may turn out that i am quite wrong, and that there are no x's or x's. i am glad you appreciate the rich absurdities of the new doctrine of spontogenesis [?]. against the doctrine of spontaneous generation in the abstract i have nothing to say. indeed it is a necessary corollary from darwin's views if legitimately carried out, and i think owen smites him (darwin) fairly for taking refuge in "pentateuchal" phraseology when he ought to have done one of two things--(a) give up the problem, (b) admit the necessity of spontaneous generation. it is the very passage in darwin's book to which, as he knows right well, i have always strongly objected. the x of science and the x of genesis are two different x's, and for any sake don't let us confuse them together. maurice has sent me his book. i have read it, but i find myself utterly at a loss to comprehend his point of view. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letter is interesting, as showing his continued interest in the question of skull structure, as well as his relation to his friend and fellow-worker, dr. w.k. parker.] jermyn street, march , . my dear parker, any conclusion that i have reached will seem to me all the better based for knowing that you have been near or at it, and i am therefore right glad to have your letter. if i had only time, nothing would delight me more than to go over your preparations, but these hunterian lectures are about the hardest bit of work i ever took in hand, and i am obliged to give every minute to them. by and by i will gladly go with you over your vast material. did you not some time ago tell me that you considered the y-shaped bone (so-called presphenoid) in the pike to be the true basisphenoid? if so, let me know before lecture to-morrow, that i may not commit theft unawares. i have arrived at that conclusion myself from the anatomical relations of the bone in question to the brain and nerves. i look upon the proposition opisthotis = turtle's "occipital externe" = perch's rocher (cuvier) as the one thing needful to clear up the unity of structure of the bony cranium; and it shall be counted unto me as a great sin if i have helped to keep you back from it. the thing has been dawning upon me ever since i read kolliker's book two summers ago, but i have never had time to work it out. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following extracts from a letter to hooker and a letter to darwin describe the pressure of his work at this time.] . my dear hooker, ...i would willingly send a paper to the linnean this year if i could, but i do not see how it is practicable. i lecture five times a week from now till the middle of february. i then have to give eighteen lectures at the college of surgeons--six on classification, and twelve on the vertebrate skeleton. i might write a paper on this new glyptodon, with some eighteen to twenty plates. a preliminary notice has already gone to the royal society. i have a decade of fossil fish in progress; a fellow in the country will keep on sending me splendid new labyrinthodonts from the coal, and that d--d manual must come out. ayez pitie de moi. t.h. huxley. jermyn street, july , . my dear darwin, i am horribly loth to say that i cannot do anything you want done; and partly for that reason and partly because we have been very busy here with some new arrangements during the last day or two, i did not at once reply to your note. i am afraid, however, i cannot undertake any sort of new work. in spite of working like a horse (or if you prefer it, like an ass), i find myself scandalously in arrear, and i shall get into terrible hot water if i do not clear off some things that have been hanging about me for months and years. if you will send me up the specimens, however, i will ask flower (whom i see constantly) to examine them for you. the examination will be no great trouble, and i am ashamed to make a fuss about it, but i have sworn a big oath to take no fresh work, great or small, until certain things are done. i wake up in the morning with somebody saying in my ear, "a is not done, and b is not done, and c is not done, and d is not done," etc., and a feeling like a fellow whose duns are all in the street waiting for him. by the way, you ask me what i am doing now, so i will just enumerate some of the a, b, and c's aforesaid. a. editing lectures on vertebrate skull and bringing them out in the "medical times." b. editing and re-writing lectures on elementary physiology, just delivered here and reported as i went along. ([delivered on friday evenings from april to june at jermyn street, and reported in the "medical times." they formed the basis of his well-known little book on "elementary physiology," published . he writes on april :--] "macmillan has just been with me, and i am let in for a school book on physiology based on these lectures of mine. money arrangements not quite fixed yet, but he is a good fellow, and will not do me unnecessarily.") c. thinking of my course of twenty-four lectures on the mammalia at the college of surgeons in next spring, and making investigations bearing on the same. d. thinking of and working at a "manual of comparative anatomy" (may it be d--d); which i have had in hand these seven years. e. getting heaps of remains of new labyrinthodonts from the glasgow coalfield, which have to be described. f. working at a memoir on glyptodon based on a new and almost entire specimen at the college of surgeons. g. preparing a new decade upon fossil fishes for this place. h. knowing that i ought to have written long ago a description of a most interesting lot of indian fossils sent to me by oldham. i. being blown up by hooker for doing nothing for the "natural history review." k. being bothered by sundry editors just to write articles "which you know you can knock off in a moment." l. consciousness of having left unwritten letters which ought to have been written long ago, especially to c. darwin. m. general worry and botheration. ten or twelve people taking up my time all day about their own affairs. n. o. p. q. r. s. t. u. v. w. x. y. z. societies. clubs. dinners, evening parties, and all the apparatus for wasting time called "society." colensoism and botheration about moses...finally pestered to death in public and private because i am supposed to be what they call a "darwinian." if that is not enough, i could exhaust the greek alphabet for heads in addition. i am glad to hear that wyman thinks well of my book, as he is very competent to judge. i hear it is republished in america, but i suppose i shall get nothing out of it. [in this expectation, however, he was agreeably disappointed by the action of d. appleton and company. an undated letter to kingsley, who had suggested that he should write an article on prayer, belongs probably to the autumn of :--] i should like very much to write such an article as you suggest, but i am very doubtful about undertaking it for "fraser." anything i could say would go to the root of praying altogether, for inasmuch as the whole universe is governed, so far as i can see, in the same way, and the moral world is as much governed by laws as the physical--whatever militates against asking for one sort of blessing seems to me to tell with the same force against asking for any other. not that i mean for a moment to say that prayer is illogical, for if the whole universe is ruled by fixed laws it is just as logically absurd for me to ask you to answer this letter as to ask the almighty to alter the weather. the whole argument is an "old foe with a new face," the freedom and necessity question over again. if i were to write about the question i should have to develop all this side of the problem, and then having shown that logic, as always happens when it is carried to extremes, leaves us bombinantes in vacuo, i should appeal to experience to show that prayers of this sort are not answered, and to science to prove that if they were they would do a great deal of harm. but you know this would never do for the atmosphere of "fraser." it would be much better suited for an article in my favourite organ, the wicked "westminster." however, to say truth, i do not see how i am to undertake anything fresh just at present. i have promised an article for "macmillan" ages ago; and masson scowls at me whenever we meet. i am afraid to go through the albany lest cook should demand certain reviews of books which have been long in my hands. i am just completing a long memoir for the linnean society; a monograph on certain fossil reptiles must be finished before the new year. my lectures have begun, and there is a certain "manual" looming in the background. and to crown all, these late events [the death of his brother] have given me such a wrench that i feel i must be prudent. [the following reference to robert lowe, afterwards lord sherbrooke, has a quasi-prophetic interest:--] may . dined at the smiths' last night. [dr. (afterwards sir william) smith, of dictionary fame.] lowe was to have been there, but had a dinner-party of his own...i have come to the conviction that our friend bob is a most admirable, well-judging statesman, for he says i am the only man fit to be at the head of the british museum [i.e. of the natural history collections.], and that if he had his way he would put me there. [years afterwards, on sir r. owen's retirement, he was offered the post, but declined it, as he greatly disliked the kind of work. at the same time, he pointed out to the minister who made the offer that the man of all others for the post would be the late distinguished holder of it, sir w.h. flower, a suggestion happily acted on. early in august a severe loss befell him in the sudden death of his brother george, who had been his close friend ever since he had returned from australia, who had given him all the help and sympathy in his struggles that could be given by a man of the world without special interests in science or literature. with brilliancy enough to have won success if he had had patience to ensure it, he was not only a pleasant companion, a "clubbable man" in johnson's phrase, but a friend to trust. the two households had seen much of one another; the childless couple regarded their brother's children almost as their own. thus a real gap was made in the family circle, and the trouble was not lessened by the fact that george huxley's affairs were left in great confusion, and his brother not only spent a great deal of time in looking after the interests of the widow, but took upon himself certain obligations in order to make things straight, with the result that he was even compelled to part with his royal medal, the gold of which was worth pounds sterling.] chapter . . . [the year was much like . the hunterian lectures were still part of his regular work. the fishery commission claimed a large portion of his time. from march to april he was in cornwall; on may at shoreham; from july to september visiting the coasts of scotland and ireland. the same pressure of work continued. he published four papers on paleontological or anatomical subjects in the "natural history review" (on "cetacean fossils termed ziphius by cuvier," in the "transactions of the geological society"; in those of the "zoological," papers on "arctocebus calabarensis" and "the structure of the stomach in desmodus rufus"; and on the "osteology of the genus glyptodon," in the "philosophical transactions."), he wrote "further remarks upon the human remains from the neanderthal," and later, dealing with "criticisms on the 'origin of species'" ("collected essays" page "darwiniana"), he gently but firmly dispersed several misconceptions of his old friend kolliker as to the plain meaning of the book; and ridiculed the pretentious ignorance of m. flourens' dicta upon the same subject; while in the winter he delivered a course of lectures to working men on "the various races of mankind," a choice of subject which shows that his chief interest at that time lay in ethnology.] jermyn street, january , . my dear darwin, i have had no news of you for a long time, but i earnestly hope you are better. have you any objection to putting your name to flower's certificate for the royal society herewith inclosed? it will please him much if you will; and i go bail for his being a thoroughly good man in all senses of the word--which, as you know, is more than i would say for everybody. don't write any reply; but mrs. darwin perhaps will do me the kindness to send the thing on to lyell as per enclosed envelope. i will write him a note about it. we are all well, barring customary colds and various forms of infantile pip. as for myself, i am flourishing like a green bay tree (appropriate comparison, soapy sam would observe), in consequence of having utterly renounced societies and society since october. i have been working like a horse, however, and shall work "horser" as my college lectures begin in february. tout a vous, t.h. huxley. royal school of mines, jermyn street, april , . my dear darwin, i was rejoiced to see your handwriting again, so much so that i shall not scold you for undertaking the needless exertion (as it's my duty to do) of writing to thank me for my book. [hunterian lectures on anatomy.] i thought the last lecture would be nuts for you, but it is really shocking. there is not the smallest question that owen wrote both the article "oken" and the "archetype book," which appeared in its second edition in french--why, i know not. i think that if you will look at what i say again, there will not be much doubt left in your mind as to the identity of the writer of the two. the news you give of yourself is most encouraging; but pray don't think of doing any work again yet. careful as i have been during this last winter not to burn the candle at both ends, i have found myself, since the pressure of my lectures ceased, in considerable need of quiet, and i have been lazy accordingly. i don't know that i fear, with you, caring too much for science--for there are lots of other things i should like to go into as well, but i do lament more and more as time goes on, the necessity of becoming more and more absorbed in one kind of work, a necessity which is created for any one in my position, partly by one's reputation, and partly by one's children. for directly a man gets the smallest repute in any branch of science, the world immediately credits him with knowing about ten times as much as he really does, and he becomes bound in common honesty to do his best to climb up to his reputed place. and then the babies are a devouring fire, eating up the present and discounting the future; they are sure to want all the money one can earn, and to be the better for all the credit one can win. however, i should fare badly without the young monkeys. your pet marian is almost as shy as ever, though she has left off saying "can't," by the way. my wife is wonderfully well. as i tell her, providence has appointed her to take care of me when i am broken down and decrepit. i hope you can say as much of mrs. darwin. pray give her my kind regards. and believe me, ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a letter to his sister gives a sketch of his position at this time, speaking of which he says to dr. (afterwards sir j.) fayrer,] "you and i have travelled a long way, in all senses, since you settled my career for me on the steps of the charing cross hospital." [it must be remembered that his sister was living in tennessee, and that her son at fifteen was serving in the confederate army.] jermyn street, may , . you will want to know something about my progress in the world. well, at this moment i am professor of natural history here, and hunterian professor of comparative anatomy at the college of surgeons. the former is the appointment i have held since ; the latter chair i was asked to take last year, and now i have delivered two courses in that famous black gown with the red facings which the doctor will recollect very well. what with the duties of these two posts and other official and non-official business, i am worked to the full stretch of my powers, and sometimes a little beyond them; though hitherto i have stood the wear and tear very well. i believe i have won myself a pretty fair place in science, but in addition to that i have the reputation (of which, i fear, you will not approve) of being a great heretic and a savage controversialist always in rows. to the accusation of heresy i fear i must plead guilty; but the second charge proceeds only, i do assure you, from a certain unconquerable hatred of lies and humbug which i cannot get over. i have read all you tell me about the south with much interest and with the warmest sympathy, so far as the fate of the south affects you. but i am in the condition of most thoughtful englishmen. my heart goes with the south, and my head with the north. i have no love for the yankees, and i delight in the energy and self-sacrifice of your people; but for all that, i cannot doubt that whether you beat the yankees or not, you are struggling to uphold a system which must, sooner or later, break down. i have not the smallest sentimental sympathy with the negro; don't believe in him at all, in short. but it is clear to me that slavery means, for the white man, bad political economy; bad social morality; bad internal political organisation, and a bad influence upon free labour and freedom all over the world. for the sake of the white man, therefore, for your children and grandchildren, directly, and for mine, indirectly, i wish to see this system ended. [cf. "reader," february onwards, where these general arguments against slavery appear in a controversy arising from his ninth hunterian lecture, in which, while admitting negro inferiority, he refutes those who justify slavery on the ground that physiologically the negro is very low in the scale.] would that the south had had the wisdom to initiate that end without this miserable war! all this must jar upon you sadly, and i grieve that it does so; but i could not pretend to be other than i am, even to please you. let us agree to differ upon this point. if i were in your place i doubt not i should feel as you do; and, when i think of you, i put myself in your place and feel with you as your brother tom. the learned gentleman who has public opinions for which he is responsible is another "party" who walks about in t's clothes when he is not thinking of his sister. if this were not my birthday i should not feel justified in taking a morning's holiday to write this long letter to you. the ghosts of undone pieces of work are dancing about me, and i must come to an end. give my love to your husband. i am glad to hear he wears so well. and don't forget to give your children kindly thoughts of their uncle. dr. wright gives a great account of my namesake, and says he is the handsomest youngster in the southern states. that comes of his being named after me, you know how renowned for personal beauty i always was. i asked dr. wright if you had taken to spectacles, and he seemed to think not. i had a pain about my eyes a few months ago, but i found spectacles made this rather worse and left them off again. however, i do catch myself holding a newspaper further off than i used to do. now don't let six months go by without writing again. if our little venture succeeds this time, we shall send again. [i.e. a package of various presents to the family.] ever, my dearest lizzie, your affectionate brother, t.h. huxley. [he writes to his wife, who had taken the children to margate:--] september . i am now busy over a paper for the zoological society; after that there is one for the ethnological which was read last session though not written...don't blaspheme about going into the bye-ways. they are both in the direct road of the book, only over the hills instead of going over the beaten path. october . i heard from darwin last night jubilating over an article of mine which is published in the last number of the "natural history review," and which he is immensely pleased with...my lectures tire me, from want of practice, i suppose. i shall soon get into swing. [the article in question was the "criticisms of the 'origin of species'" of which he writes to darwin:--] jermyn street, october , . my dear darwin, i am very glad to see your handwriting (in ink) again, and none the less on account of the pretty words into which it was shaped. it is a great pleasure to me that you like the article, for it was written very hurriedly, and i did not feel sure when i had done that i had always rightly represented your views. hang the two scalps up in your wigwam! flourens i could have believed anything of, but how a man of kolliker's real intelligence and ability could have so misunderstood the question is more than i can comprehend. it will be a thousand pities, however, if any review interferes with your saying something on the subject yourself. unless it should give you needless work i heartily wish you would. everybody tells me i am looking so exceedingly well that i am ashamed to say a word to the contrary. but the fact is, i get no exercise, and a great deal of bothering work on our commission's cruise; and though much fatter (indeed a regular bloater myself), i am not up to the mark. next year i will have a real holiday. [at the end of the year, as so often, he went off for a ploy with tyndall, this time into derbyshire, walking vigorously over the moors.] i am a bachelor, my wife and belongings being all at that beautiful place, margate. when i came back i found them all looking so seedy that i took them off bag and baggage to that, as the handiest place, before a week was over. they are wonderfully improved already, my wife especially being abundantly provided with her favourite east wind. your godson is growing a very sturdy fellow, and i begin to puzzle my head with thinking what he is and what he is not to be taught. please to remember me very kindly to mrs. darwin, and believe me, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following illustrates the value he set upon public examinations as to a practical means for spreading scientific education, and upon first-rate examiners as a safeguard of proper methods of teaching.] october , . my dear hooker, donnelly told me to-day that you had been applied to by the science and tarts department to examine for them in botany, and that you had declined. will you reconsider the matter? i have always taken a very great interest in the science examinations, looking upon them, as i do, as the most important engine for forcing science into ordinary education. the english nation will not take science from above, so it must get it from below. having known these examinations from the beginning, i can assure you that they are very genuine things, and are working excellently. and what i have regretted from the first is that the botanical business was not taken in hand by you, instead of by --. now, like a good fellow, think better of it. the papers are necessarily very simple, and one of oliver's pupils could look them over for you. let us have your co-operation and the advantage of that reputation for honesty and earnestness which you have contrived (heaven knows how) to get. i have come back fat and seedy for want of exercise. all my belongings are at margate. hope you don't think my review of darwin's critics too heretical if you have seen it. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. when is our plan for getting some kind of meeting during the winter to be organised? [the next two letters refer to the award of the copley medal to mr. darwin. huxley was exceedingly indignant at an attempt on the part of the president to discredit the "origin" by a side wind:--] jermyn street, november , . my dear darwin, i write two lines which are not to be answered, just as to say how delighted i am at the result of the doings of the council of the royal society yesterday. many of us were somewhat doubtful of the result, and the more ferocious sort had begun to whet their beaks and sharpen their claws in preparation for taking a very decided course of action had there been any failure of justice this time. but the affair was settled by a splendid majority, and our ruffled feathers are smoothed down. your well-won reputation would not have been lessened by the lack of the copley, but it would have been an indelible reproach to the royal society not to have given it to you, and a good many of us had no notion of being made to share that ignominy. but quite apart from all these grand public-spirited motives and their results, you ought as a philanthropist to be rejoiced in the great satisfaction the award has given to your troops of friends, to none more than my wife (whom i woke up to tell the news when i got home late last night). yours ever, t.h. huxley. please remember us kindly to mrs. darwin, and make our congratulations to her on owning a copley medallist. jermyn street, december , . my dear hooker, i wish you had been at the anniversary meeting and dinner, because the latter was very pleasant, and the former, to me, very disagreeable. my distrust of sabine is as you know chronic, and i went determined to keep careful watch on his address, lest some crafty phrase injurious to darwin should be introduced. my suspicious were justified. the only part of the address to darwin written by sabine himself contained the following passage:-- "speaking generally and collectively, we have expressly omitted it (darwin's theory) from the grounds of our award." of course this would be interpreted by everybody as meaning that, after due discussion, the council had formally resolved not only to exclude darwin's theory from the grounds of the award, but to give public notice through the president that they had done so, and furthermore, that darwin's friends had been base enough to accept an honour for him on the understanding that in receiving it he should be publicly insulted! i felt that this would never do, and therefore when the resolution for printing the address was moved, i made a speech which i took care to keep perfectly cool and temperate, disavowing all intention of interfering with the liberty of the president to say what he pleased, but exercising my constitutional right of requiring the minutes of council making the award to be read, in order that the society might be informed whether the conditions implied by sabine had been imposed or not. the resolution was read, and of course nothing of the kind appeared. sabine didn't exactly like it, i believe. both busk and falconer remonstrated against the passage to him, and i hope it will be withdrawn when the address is printed. [the passage stands in the published address, but followed by another passage which softens it down.] if not there will be an awful row, and i for one will show no mercy. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the foundation of the x club towards the earth was a notable event for huxley and his circle of scientific friends. it was growing more and more difficult for them to see one another except now and again at meetings of the learned societies, and even that was quite uncertain. the pressure of huxley's own work may be inferred from his letters at this time (especially to darwin, july , , and january , ). not only society, but societies had to be almost entirely given up. moreover, the distance from one another at which some of these friends lived, added another difficulty, so that huxley writes to hooker in his] "remote province" [of kew:] "i wonder if we are ever to meet again in this world." [accordingly in january , hooker gladly embraced a proposal of huxley's to organise some kind of regular meeting, a proposal which bore fruit in the establishment of the x club. on november , , the first meeting was held at st. george's hotel, albemarle street, where they resolved to dine regularly "except when benham cannot have us, in which case dine at the athenaeum." in the latter eighties, however, the athenaeum became the regular place of meeting, and it was here that the "coming of age" of the club was celebrated in . eight members met at the first meeting; the second meeting brought their numbers up to nine by the addition of w. spottiswoode, but the proposal to elect a tenth member was never carried out. on the principle of lucus a non lucendo, this lent an additional appropriateness to the symbol x, the origin of which huxley thus describes in his reminiscences of tyndall in the "nineteenth century" for january :--] at starting, our minds were terribly exercised over the name and constitution of our society. as opinions on this grave matter were no less numerous than the members--indeed more so--we finally accepted the happy suggestion of our mathematicians to call it the x club; and the proposal of some genius among us, that we should have no rules, save the unwritten law not to have any, was carried by acclamation. [besides huxley, the members of the club were as follows:-- george busk, f.r.s. ( - ), then secretary of the linnean society, a skilful anatomist. (he served as surgeon to the hospital ship "dreadnought" at greenwich till , when he resigned and, retiring from practice, devoted himself to scientific pursuits, and was elected president of the college of surgeons in .) edward frankland ( - ), foreign secretary r.s., k.c.b., then professor of chemistry in the royal institution, and afterwards at the royal college of science. thomas archer hirst, f.r.s., then mathematical master at university college school. (in appointed professor of physics; in , of pure mathematics, at university college, london; and from to director of naval studies at the royal naval college, greenwich; an old marburg student, and intimate friend of tyndall, whom he had succeeded at queenwood college in . he died in .) joseph dalton hooker, f.r.s., k.c.s.i., president of the royal society , the great botanist, then assistant director at kew gardens to his father, sir william hooker. sir john lubbock, bart., f.r.s., m.p., the youngest of the nine, who had already made his mark in archeology, and was then preparing to bring out his "prehistoric times." herbert spencer, who had already published "social statics," "principles of psychology," and "first principles." william spottiswoode ( - ), f.r.s., treasurer and afterwards president of the royal society , who carried on the business of the queen's printer as well as being deeply versed in mathematics, philosophy, and languages. john tyndall, f.r.s., ( - ), who had been for the last eleven years professor of natural philosophy at the royal institution, where he succeeded faraday as superintendent. the one object, then, of the club was to afford a certain meeting-ground for a few friends who were bound together by personal regard and community of scientific interests, yet were in danger of drifting apart under the stress of circumstances. they dined together on the first thursday in each month, except july, august, and september, before the meeting of the royal society, of which all were members excepting mr. spencer, the usual dining hour being six, so that they should be in good time for the society's meeting at eight; and a minute of december , , when huxley was treasurer and revived the ancient custom of making some note of the conversation, throws light on the habits of the club. "got scolded," he writes, "for dining at . . had to prove we have dined at . for a long time by evidence of waiter." (at the february meeting, however, "agreed to fix dinner hour six hereafter.") "talked politics, scandal, and the three classes of witnesses--liars, d--d liars, and experts. huxley gave account of civil list pension. sat to the unexampled hour of p.m., except lubbock who had to go to linnean." for some time there was a summer meeting, which consisted of a week-end excursion of members and their wives (x's + yv's, as the correct formula ran) to some place like burnham or maidenhead, oxford or windsor; but this grew increasingly difficult to arrange, and dropped before very long. guests were not excluded from the dinners of the club; men of science or letters of almost every nationality dined with the x at one time or another; darwin, w.k. clifford, colenso, strachey, tollemache, helps; professors bain, masson, robertson smith, and bentham the botanist, mr. john morley, sir d. galton, mr. jodrell, the founder of several scientific lectureships; dr. klein; the americans marsh, gilman, a. agassiz, and youmans, the latter of whom met here several of the contributors to the "international science series" organised by him; and continental representatives, as helmholtz, laugel, and cornu. small as the club was, the members of it were destined to play a considerable part in the history of english science. five of them received the royal medal; three the copley; one the rumford, six were presidents of the british association; three associates of the institute of france; and from amongst them the royal society chose a secretary, a foreign secretary, a treasurer, and three successive presidents.] i think, originally [writes huxley, l.c.] there was some vague notion of associating representatives of each branch of science; at any rate, the nine who eventually came together could have managed, among us, to contribute most of the articles to a scientific encyclopaedia. [they included leading representatives of half a dozen branches of science:--mathematics, physics, philosophy, chemistry, botany, and biology; and all were animated by similar ideas of the high function of science, and of the great society which should be the chief representative of science in this country. however unnecessary, it was perhaps not unnatural that a certain jealousy of the club and its possible influence grew up in some quarters. but whatever influence fell to it as it were incidentally--and earnest men with such opportunities of mutual understanding and such ideals of action could not fail to have some influence on the progress of scientific organisation--it was assuredly not sectarian nor exerted for party purposes during the twenty-eight years of the club's existence.] i believe that the x [continues huxley] had the credit of being a sort of scientific caucus, or ring, with some people. in fact, two distinguished scientific colleagues of mine once carried on a conversation (which i gravely ignored) across me, in the smoking-room of the athenaeum, to this effect, "i say, a., do you know anything about the x club?" "oh, yes, b., i have heard of it. what do they do?" "well, they govern scientific affairs, and really, on the whole, they don't do it badly." if my good friends could only have been present at a few of our meetings, they would have formed a much less exalted idea of us, and would, i fear, have been much shocked at the sadly frivolous tone of our ordinary conversation. [the x club is probably unique in the smallness of its numbers, the intellectual eminence of its members, and the length of its unchanged existence. the nearest parallel is to be found in "the club." (of which huxley was elected a member in . tyndall and hooker were also members.) like the x, "the club" began with eight members at its first meeting, and of the original members johnson lived twenty years, reynolds twenty-eight, burke thirty-three, and bennet langton thirty-seven. but the ranks were earlier broken. within ten years goldsmith died, and he was followed in a twelvemonth by nugent, and five years later by beauclerk and chamier. moreover, the eight were soon increased to twelve; then to twenty and finally to forty, while the gaps were filled up as they occurred. in the x, on the contrary, nearly nineteen years passed before the original circle was broken by the death of spottiswoode. from to spottiswoode's death in the original circle remained unbroken; the meetings "were steadily continued for some twenty years, before our ranks began to thin; and one by one, geistige naturen such as those for which the poet so willingly paid the ferryman, silent but not unregarded, took the vacated places." (nimm dann fuhrmann, nimm die miethe die ich gerne dreifach biete; zwei, die eben uberfuhren waren geistige naturen.) the peculiar constitution of the club scarcely seemed to admit of new members; not, at all events, without altering the unique relation of friendship joined to common experience of struggle and success which had lasted so long. after the death of spottiswoode and busk, and the ill-health of other members, the election of new members was indeed mooted, but the proposal was ultimately negatived. huxley's opinion on this point appears from letters to sir e. frankland in and to sir j.d. hooker in .] as for the filling up the vacancies in the x, i am disposed to take tyndall's view of the matter. our little club had no very definite object beyond preventing a few men who were united by strong personal sympathies from drifting apart by the pressure of busy lives. nobody could have foreseen or expected twenty odd years ago when we first met, that we were destined to play the parts we have since played, and it is in the nature of things impossible that any of the new members proposed (much as we may like and respect them all), can carry on the work which has so strangely fallen to us. an axe with a new head and a new handle may be the same axe in one sense, but it is not the familiar friend with which one has cut one's way through wood and brier. [and in the other letter:--] what with the lame dog condition of tyndall and hirst and spencer and my own recurrent illnesses, the x is not satisfactory. but i don't see that much will come from putting new patches in. the x really has no raison d'etre beyond the personal attachment of its original members. frankland told me of the names that had been mentioned, and none could be more personally welcome to me...but somehow or other they seem out of place in the x. however, i am not going to stand out against the general wish, and i shall agree to anything that is desired. [again:--] the club has never had any purpose except the purely personal object of bringing together a few friends who did not want to drift apart. it has happened that these cronies had developed into big-wigs of various kinds, and therefore the club has incidentally--i might say accidentally--had a good deal of influence in the scientific world. but if i had to propose to a man to join, and he were to say, well, what is your object? i should have to reply like the needy knife-grinder, "object, god bless you, sir, we've none to show." [as he wrote elsewhere (loc. cit.):--] later on, there were attempts to add other members, which at last became wearisome, and had to be arrested by the agreement that no proposition of that kind should be entertained, unless the name of the new may be suggested contained all the consonants absent from the names of the old ones. in the lack of slavonic friends this decision put an end to the possibility of increase. [after the death, in february , of hirst, a most devoted supporter of the club, who "would, i believe, represent it in his sole person rather than pass the day over," only one more meeting took place, in the following month. with five of the six survivors domiciled far from town, meeting after meeting fell through, until the treasurer wrote, "my idea is that it is best to let it die out unobserved, and say nothing about its decease to anyone." thus it came to pass that the march meeting of the club in remained its last. no ceremony ushered it out of existence. its end exemplified a saying of sir j. hooker's "at our ages clubs are an anachronism." it had met times, yet, curious to say, although the average attendance up to was seven out of nine, the full strength of the club only met on twenty-seven occasions. chapter . . . [the progress of the american civil war suggested to huxley in the text for an article, "emancipation, black and white," the emancipation of the negro in america and the emancipation of women in england, which appeared in the "reader" of may ("collected essays" ). his main argument for the emancipation of the negro was that already given in his letter to his sister; namely, that in accordance with the moral law that no human being can arbitrarily dominate over another without grievous damage to his own nature, the master will benefit by freedom more than the freed-man. and just as the negro will never take the highest places in civilisation yet need not to be confined to the lowest, so, he argues, it will be with women.] "nature's old salique law will never be repealed, and no change of dynasty will be effected," [although] "whatever argument justifies a given education for all boys justifies its application to girls as well." [with this may be compared his letter to the "times" of july , (chapter ). no scientific monographs were published in by huxley, but his lectures of the previous winter to working-men on "the various races of mankind" are an indication of his continued interest in ethnology, which, set going, as has been said, by the promise to revise the woodcuts for lyell's book, found expression in such papers as the "human remains in the shell mounds," ; the "neanderthal remains" of ; the "methods and results of ethnology" of ; his fullerian lectures of - ; papers on "two widely contrasted forms of the human cranium" of and ; the "patagonian skulls" of ; and "some fixed points in british ethnology" of :-- his published ethnological papers (says sir michael foster) are not numerous, nor can they be taken as a measure of his influence on this branch of study. in many ways he has made himself felt, not the least by the severity with which on the one hand he repressed the pretensions of shallow persons who, taking advantage of the glamour of the darwinian doctrine, talked nonsense in the name of anthropological science, and on the other hand, exposed those who in the structure of the brain or of other parts, saw an impassable gulf between man and the monkey. the episode of the "hippocampus" stirred for a while not only science but the general public. he used his influence, already year by year growing more and more powerful, to keep the study of the natural history of man within its proper lines, and chiefly with this end in view held the presidential chair of the ethnological society in - . it was mainly through his influence that this older ethnological society was, a year later, in , amalgamated with a newer rival society, the anthropological, under the title of "the anthropological institute." during this time he was constantly occupied with paleontological work, as the following letter to sir charles lyell indicates:--] jermyn street, november , . my dear sir charles, i returned last night from a hasty journey to ireland, whither i betook myself on thursday night, being attracted vulture-wise by the scent of a quantity of carboniferous corpses. the journey was as well worth the trouble as any i ever undertook, seeing that in a morning's work i turned out ten genera of vertebrate animals of which five are certainly new; and of these four are labyrinthodonts, amphibia of new types. these four are baptised ophiderpeton, lepterpeton, ichthyerpeton, keraterpeton. they all have ossified spinal columns and limbs. the special interest attaching to the two first is that they represent a type of labyrinthodonts hitherto unknown, and corresponding with siren and amphiuma among living amphibia. ophiderpeton, for example, is like an eel, about three feet long with small fore legs and rudimentary hind ones. in the year of grace , there were three genera of european carboniferous labyrinthodonts known, archegosaurus, scleroceplus, parabatrachus. the vertebral column of archegosaurus was alone known, and it was in a remarkably imperfect state of ossification. since that date, by a succession of odd chances, seven new genera have come into my hands, and of these six certainly have well-ossified and developed vertebral columns. i reckon there are now about thirty genera of labyrinthodonts known from all parts of the world and all deposits. of these eleven have been established by myself in the course of the last half-dozen years, upon remains which have come into my hands by the merest chance. five and twenty years ago, all the world but yourself believed that a vertebrate animal of higher organisation than a fish in the carboniferous rocks never existed. i think the whole story is not a bad comment upon negative evidence. january , . my dear darwin, i cannot do better than write my first letter of the year to you, if it is only to wish you and yours your fair share (and more than your fair share, if need be) of good for the new year. the immediate cause of my writing, however, was turning out my pocket and finding therein an unanswered letter of yours containing a scrap on which is a request for a photograph, which i am afraid i overlooked. at least i hope i did, and then my manners won't be so bad. i enclose the latest version of myself. i wish i could follow out your suggestion about a book on zoology. (by the way please to tell miss emma that my last book is a book. [the first volume of his hunterian lectures on "comparative anatomy." a second volume never appeared. miss darwin, as her father wrote to huxley after the delivery of his working men's lectures in , "was reading your lectures, and ended by saying, 'i wish he would write a book.' i answered, 'he has just written a great book on the skull.' 'i don't call that a book,' she replied, and added, 'i want something that people can read; he does write so well.'"] marry come up! does her ladyship call it a pamphlet?) but i assure you that writing is a perfect pest to me unless i am interested, and not only a bore but a very slow process. i have some popular lectures on physiology, which have been half done for more than a twelvemonth, and i hate the sight of them because the subject no longer interests me, and my head is full of other matters. [see letter of april , .] so i have just done giving a set of lectures to working-men on "the various races of mankind," which really would make a book in miss emma's sense of the word, and which i have had reported. but when am i to work them up? twenty-four hunterian lectures loom between me and easter. i am dying to get out the second volume of the book that is not a book, but in vain. i trust you are better, though the last news i had of you from lubbock was not so encouraging as i could have wished. with best wishes and remembrances to mrs. darwin. ever yours, t.h. huxley. thanks for "fur darwin," i had it. abbey place, january , . my dear darwin, many thanks for deslongchamps' paper which i do not possess. i received another important publication yesterday morning in the shape of a small but hearty son, who came to light a little before six. the wife is getting on capitally, and we are both greatly rejoiced at having another boy, as your godson ran great risks of being spoiled by a harem of sisters. the leader in the "reader" is mine, and i am glad you like it. the more so as it has got me into trouble with some of my friends. however, the revolution that is going on is not to be made with rose-water. i wish if anything occurs to you that would improve the scientific part of the "reader," you would let me know as i am in great measure responsible for it. i am sorry not to have a better account of your health. with kind remembrances to mrs. darwin and the rest of your circle. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, may , . my dear darwin, i send you by this post a booklet none of which is much worth your reading, while of nine-tenths of it you may say as the man did who had been trying to read johnson's "dictionary," "that the words were fine, but he couldn't make much of the story." [probably "a catalogue of the collection of fossils in the museum of practical geology," etc.] but perhaps the young lady who has been kind enough to act as taster of my books heretofore will read the explanatory notice, and give me her ideas thereupon (always recollecting that almost the whole of it was written in the pre-darwinian epoch.) i do not hear very good accounts of you--to my sorrow--though rumours have reached me that the opus magnum is completely developed though not yet born. [on "pangenesis."] i am grinding at the mill and getting a little tired. my belongings flourishing as i hope you are. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, may , . my dear darwin, i meant to have written to you yesterday to say how glad i shall be to read whatever you like to send me. i have to lecture at the royal institution this week, but after friday, my time will be more at my own disposal than usual; and as always i shall be most particularly glad to be of any use to you. any glimmer of light on the question you speak of is of the utmost importance, and i shall be immensely interested in learning your views. and of course i need not add i will do my best to upset them. that is the nature of the beast. i had a letter from one of the ablest of the younger zoologists of germany, haeckel, the other day, in which this passage occurs:-- "the darwinian theory, the establishment and development of which is the object [of] all my scientific labours, has gained ground immensely in germany (where it was at first so misunderstood) during the last two years, and i entertain no doubt that it will before long be everywhere victorious." and he adds that i dealt far too mildly with kolliker. with kindest remembrances to mrs. darwin and your family. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this year, as is seen from the foregoing, he was again in direct communication with professor ernst haeckel of jena, the earliest and strongest champion of darwinian ideas in germany. the latter wished to enlarge his observations by joining some english scientific expedition, if any such were in preparation, but was dissuaded by the following reply. the expected book of darwin's was the "pangenesis," and this is also referred to in the three succeeding letters to darwin himself.] the royal school of mines, jermyn street, london, june , . my dear sir, many thanks for your letter, and for the welcome present of your portrait, which i shall value greatly, and in exchange for which i enclose my own. indeed i have delayed writing to you in order to be able to send the last "new and improved" edition of myself. i wish it were in my power to help you to any such appointment as that you wish for. but i do not think our government is likely to send out any scientific expedition to the south seas. there is a talk about a new arctic expedition, but i doubt if it will come to much, and even if it should be organised i could not recommend your throwing yourself away in an undertaking which promises more frost-bites than anything else to a naturalist. in truth, though i have felt and can still feel the attraction of foreign travel in all its strength, i would counsel you to stop at home, and as goethe says, find your america here. there are plenty of people who can observe and whose places, if they are expended by fever or shipwreck, can be well enough filled up. but there are very few who can grapple with the higher problems of science as you have done and are doing, and we cannot afford to lose you. it is the organisation of knowledge rather than its increase which is wanted just now. and i think you can help in this great undertaking better in germany than in new zealand. darwin has been very ill for more than a year past, so ill, in fact, that his recovery was at one time doubtful. but he contrives to work in spite of fate, and i hope that before long we shall have a new book from him. by way of consolation i sent him an extract from your letter touching the progress of his views. i am glad that you did not think my critique of kolliker too severe. he is an old friend of mine, and i desired to be as gentle as possible, while performing the unpleasant duty of showing how thoroughly he had misunderstood the question. i shall look with great interest for your promised book. lately i have been busy with ethnological questions, and i fear i shall not altogether please your able friend professor schleicher in some remarks i have had to make upon the supposed value of philological evidence. may we hope to see you at the meeting of the british association at birmingham? it would give many, and especially myself, much pleasure to become personally acquainted with you. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. the royal school of mines, jermyn street, june , . my dear darwin, your ms. [of "pangenesis"] reached me safely last evening. i could not refrain from glancing over it on the spot, and i perceive i shall have to put on my sharpest spectacles and best considering cap. i shall not write till i have thought well on the whole subject. ever yours, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, july , . my dear darwin, i have just counted the pages of your ms. to see that they are all right, and packed it up to send you by post, registered, so i hope it will reach you safely. i should have sent it yesterday, but people came in and bothered me about post time. i did not at all mean by what i said to stop you from publishing your views, and i really should not like to take that responsibility. somebody rummaging among your papers half a century hence will find "pangenesis" and say, "see this wonderful anticipation of our modern theories, and that stupid ass huxley preventing his publishing them." and then the carlyleans of that day will make me a text for holding forth upon the difference between mere vulpine sharpness and genius. i am not going to be made a horrid example of in that way. but all i say is, publish your views, not so much in the shape of formed conclusions, as of hypothetical developments of the only clue at present accessible, and don't give the philistines more chances of blaspheming than you can help. i am very grieved to hear that you have been so ill again. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. abbey place, october , . my dear darwin, "this comes hoping you are well," and for no other purpose than to say as much. i am just back from seven weeks' idleness at littlehampton with my wife and children, the first time i have had a holiday of any extent with them for years. we are all flourishing--the babies particularly so--and i find myself rather loth to begin grinding at the mill again. there is a vein of laziness in me which crops out uncommonly strong in your godson, who is about the idlest, jolliest young four year old i know. you will have been as much grieved as i have been about dear old hooker. according to the last accounts, however, he is mending, and i hope to see him in the pristine vigour again before long. my wife is gone to bed or she would join me in the kindest regards and remembrances to mrs. darwin and your family. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the sound judgment and nice sense of honour for which huxley was known among his friends often led those who were in difficulties to appeal to him for advice. about this time a dispute arose over an alleged case of unacknowledged "conveyance" of information. writing to hooker, he says the one party to the quarrel failed to "set the affair straight with half a dozen words of frank explanation as he might have done;" as to the other, "like all quiet and mild men who do get a grievance, he became about twice as 'wud' as berserks like you and me." both came to him, so that he says, "i have found it very difficult to deal honestly with both sides without betraying the confidence of either or making matters worse." happily, with his help, matters reached a peaceful solution, and his final comment is:--] i don't mind fighting to the death in a good big row, but when a and b are supplying themselves from c's orchard, i don't think it is very much worth while to dispute whether b filled his pockets directly from the trees or indirectly helped himself to the contents of a's basket. if b has so helped himself, he certainly ought to say so like a man, but if i were a, i would not much care whether he did or not. -- has been horribly disgusted about it, but i am not sure the discipline may not have opened his eyes to new and useful aspects of nature. [the summer of saw the inception of an educational experiment--an international education society--to which huxley gladly gave his support as a step in the right direction. he had long been convinced of the inadequacy of existing forms of education--survivals from the needs of a bygone age--to prepare for the new forms into which intellectual life was passing. that educators should be content to bring up the young generation in the modes of thought which satisfied their forefathers three centuries ago, as if no change had passed over the world since then, filled him with mingled amazement and horror. the outcome of the scheme was the international college, at spring grove, isleworth, under the headmastership of dr. leonhard schmitz; one of the chief members of the committee being dr. (afterwards sir) william smith, while at the head of the society was richard cobden, under whose presidency it had been registered some time before. john stuart mill, however, refused to join, considering that this was not the most needed reform in education, and that he could not support a school in which the ordinary theology was taught. an article in the "reader" for june , , sketches the plan. the design was to give a liberal education to boys whether intended for a profession or for commerce. the education for both was the same up to a certain point, corresponding to that given in our higher schools, together with foreign languages and the elements of physical and social science, after which the courses bifurcated. (for a fuller account of the scientific education see below.) special stress was laid on modern languages, both for themselves and as a preparation and help for classical teaching. accordingly, the international college was one of three parallel institutions in england, france, and germany, where a boy could in turn acquire a sound knowledge of all three languages while continuing the same course of education. the franco-prussian war of , however, proved fatal to the scheme. some letters to his friend dr. w.k. parker, show the good-fellowship which existed between them, as well as the interest he took in the style and success of parker's work. (a man of whom he wrote (preface to professor jeffery parker's "life of w.k. parker" ), that "in him the genius of an artist struggled with that of a philosopher, and not unfrequently the latter got the worst of the contest." he speaks too of his "minute accuracy in observation and boundless memory for details and imagination which absolutely rioted in the scenting out of subtle and often far-fetched analogies.") parker was hard at work on birds, a subject in which his friend and leader also was deeply interested, and was indeed preparing an important book upon it. referring to his candidature for the royal society, he writes on february , :] "with reference to your candidature, i am ready to bring your name forward whenever you like, and to back you with 'all my might, power, amity, and authority,' as essex did bacon (you need not serve me as bacon did essex afterwards), but my impression has been that you did not wish to come forward this year." [and on november , , congratulating him on his] "well-earned honour" [of the f.r.s.]--"go on and prosper. these are not the things wise men work for; but it is not the less proper of a wise man to take them when they come unsought." abbey place, december , . my dear parker, i have been so terribly pressed by my work that i have only just been able to finish the reading of your paper. very few pieces of work which have fallen in my way come near your account of the struthious skull in point of clearness and completeness. it is a most admirable essay, and will make an epoch in this kind of inquiry. i want you, however, to remodel the introduction, and to make some unessential but convenient difference in the arrangement of some of the figures. secondly, full as the appendix is of most valuable and interesting matter, i advise you for the present to keep it back. my reason is that you have done justice neither to yourself nor to your topics, and that if the appendix is printed as it stands, your labour will be in great measure lost. you start subjects enough for half a dozen papers, and partly from the compression thus resulting, and partly from the absence of illustrations, i do not believe there are half a dozen men in europe who will be able to follow you. furthermore, though the appendix is relevant enough--every line of it--to those who have dived deep, as you and i have--to any one else it has all the aspects of a string of desultory discussions. as your father confessor, i forbid the publication of the appendix. after having had all this trouble with you i am not going to have you waste your powers for want of a little method, so i tell you. what you are to do is this. you are to rewrite the introduction and to say that the present paper is the first of a series on the structure of the vertebrate skull; that the second will be "on the development of the osseous cranium of the common fowl" (and here (if you are good), i will permit you to introduce the episode on cartilage and membrane [illegible]); the third will be "on the chief modifications of the cranium observed in the sauropsida." the fourth, "on the mammalian skull." the fifth, "on the skull of the ichthyopsida." i will give you two years from this time to execute these five memoirs; and then if you have stood good-temperedly the amount of badgering and bullying you will get from me whenever you come dutifully to report progress, you shall be left to your own devices in the third year to publish a paper on "the general structure and theory of the vertebrate skull." you have a brilliant field before you, and a start such that no one is likely to catch you. sit deliberately down over against the city, conquer it and make it your own, and don't be wasting powder in knocking down odd bastions with random shells. i write jestingly, but i really am very much in earnest. come and have a talk on the matter as soon as you can, for i should send in my report. you will find me in jermyn street, tuesday, wednesday, or thursday mornings, thursday afternoon, but not tuesday or wednesday afternoon. send a line to say when you will come. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [besides his fullerian lectures on ethnology at the royal institution this year, huxley published in february a paper in the "natural history review," on the "prehistoric remains of caithness," based upon a quantity of remains found the previous autumn at keiss. this, and the article on the "neanderthal skull" in the "natural history review" for , attracted some notice among foreign anthropologists. dr. h. welcker writes about them; dr. a. ecker wants the "prehistoric remains" for his new "archiv fur anthropologie"; the societe d'anthropologie de paris elects him a foreign associate. he was asked by dr. fayrer to assist in a great scheme he had proposed to the asiatic society (comp. chapter ad init. and appendix .), to gather men of every tribe from india, the malayan peninsula, persia, arabia, the indian archipelago, etc., for anthropological purposes. it was well received by the council of the society and by the lieutenant-governor of bengal; anything huxley could say in its favour would be of great weight. would he come out as dr. fayrer's guest? unable to go to calcutta, he sent the following letter:--] jermyn street, london, june , . my dear fayrer, i lose no time in replying to your second letter, and my first business is to apologise for not having answered the first, but it reached me in the thick of my lectures, and like a great many other things which ought to have been done i put off replying to a more convenient season. i have been terribly hard worked this year, and thought i was going to break down a few weeks ago but luckily i have pulled through. i heartily wish that there were the smallest chance of my being able to accept your kind invitation and take part in your great scheme at calcutta. but it is impossible for me to leave england for more than six weeks or two months, and that only in the autumn, a time of year when i imagine calcutta is not likely to be the scene of anything but cholera patients. as to your plan itself, i think it a most grand and useful one if it can be properly carried out. but you do things on so grand a scale in india that i suppose all the practical difficulties which suggest themselves to me may be overcome. it strikes me that it will not do to be content with a single representative of each tribe. at least four or five will be needed to eliminate the chances of accident, and even then much will depend upon the discretion and judgment of the local agent who makes the suggestion. this difficulty, however, applies chiefly if not solely to physical ethnology. to the philologer the opportunities for comparing dialects and checking pronunciation will be splendid, however [few] the individual speakers of each dialect may be. the most difficult task of all will be to prevent the assembled savans from massacring the "specimens" at the end of the exhibition for the sake of their skulls and pelves! i am really afraid that my own virtue might yield if so tempted! jesting apart, i heartily wish your plans success, and if there are any more definite ways in which i can help, let me know, and i will do my best. you will want, i should think, a physical and a philological committee to organise schemes: ( ) for systematic measuring, weighing, and portraiture, with observation and recording of all physical characters; and ( ) for uniform registering of sounds by roman letters and collection of vocabularies and grammatical forms upon an uniform system. i should advise you to look into the museum of the societe d'anthropologie of paris, and to put yourself in communication with m. paul broca, one of its most active members, who has lately been organising a scheme of general anthropological instructions. but don't have anything to do with the quacks who are at the head of the "anthropological society" over here. if they catch scent of what you are about they will certainly want to hook on to you. once more i wish i had the chance of being able to visit your congress. i have been lecturing on ethnology this year [as fullerian professor at the royal institution.], and shall be again this year, and i would give a good deal to be able to look at the complex facts of indian ethnology with my own eyes. but as the sage observed, "what's impossible can't be," and what with short holidays--a wife and seven children--and miles of work in arrear, india is an impossibility for me. you say nothing about yourself, so i trust you are well and hearty, and all your belongings flourishing. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in paleontology he published this year papers on the "vertebrate remains from the jarrow colliery, kilkenny;" on a new "telerpeton from elgin," and on some "dinosaurs from south africa." the latter, and many more afterwards, were sent over by a young man named alfred brown, who had a curious history. a quaker gentleman came across him when employed in cleaning tools in cirencester college, found that he was a good greek and latin scholar, and got him a tutorship in a clergyman's family at the cape. he afterwards entered the postal service, and being inspired with a vivid interest in geology, spent all the leave he could obtain from his office on the orange river in getting fossils from the stormberg rocks. these, as often as he could afford to send such weighty packages, he sent to sir r. murchison, to whom he had received a letter of introduction from his official superior. sir roderick, writing to huxley, says "that he was proud of his new recruit," to whom he sent not only welcome words of encouragement, but the no less welcome news that the brother of his "discoverer," hearing of the facts from professor woodward, offered to defray his expenses so that he could collect regularly. on april huxley was in edinburgh to receive the first academic distinction conferred upon him in britain. he received the honorary degree of the university in company with tyndall and carlyle. it was part of the fitness of things that he should be associated in this honour with his close friend tyndall; but though he frequently acknowledged his debt to carlyle as the teacher who in his youth had inspired him with his undying hatred of shams and humbugs of every kind, and whom he had gratefully come to know in after days, carlyle did not forgive the publication of "man's place in nature." years after, near the end of his life, my father saw him walking slowly and alone down the opposite side of the street, and touched by his solitary appearance, crossed over and spoke to him. the old man looked at him, and merely remarking, "you're huxley, aren't you? the man that says we are all descended from monkeys," went on his way. on july he writes to tell darwin that he has lodged a memorial of his about the fossils at the gallegos river, which was to be visited by the "nassau" [chapter ] exploring ship, with the hydrographer direct, instead of sending it in to the lords of the admiralty, who would only have sent it on to the hydrographer. this letter he heads "country orders executed with accuracy and despatch." the following letter to charles kingsley explains itself:--] jermyn street, april , . my dear kingsley, i shall certainly do myself the pleasure of listening to you when you preach at the royal institution. i wonder if you are going to take the line of showing up the superstitions of men of science. their name is legion, and the exploit would be a telling one. i would do it myself only i think i am already sufficiently isolated and unpopular. however, whatever you are going to do i am sure you will speak honestly and well, and i shall come and be assistant bottleholder. i am glad you like the working men's lectures. i suspect they are about the best things of that line that i have done, and i only wish i had had the sense to anticipate the run they have had here and abroad, and i would have revised them properly. as they stand they are terribly in the rough, from a literary point of view. no doubt crib-biting, nurse-biting and original sin in general are all strictly reducible from darwinian principles; but don't by misadventure run against any academical facts. some whales have all the cerebral vertebrae free now, and every one of them has the full number, seven, whether they are free or fixed. no doubt whales had hind legs once upon a time. if when you come up to town you go to the college of surgeons, my friend flower the conservator (a good man whom you should know), will show you the whalebone whale's thigh bones in the grand skeleton they have recently set up. the legs, to be sure, and the feet are gone, the battle of life having left private cetacea in the condition of a chelsea pensioner. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this year the british association met at nottingham, and huxley was president of section d. in this capacity he invited professor haeckel to attend the meeting, but the impending war with austria prevented any prussian from leaving his country at the time, though haeckel managed to come over later. huxley did not deliver a regular opening address to the section on the thursday, but on the friday made a speech, which was followed by a discussion upon biology and its several branches, especially morphology and its relation to physiology ("the facts concerning form are questions of force, every form is force visible.") he lamented that the subdivisions of the section had to meet separately as a result of specialisation, the reason for which he found in the want of proper scientific education in schools. and this was the fault of the universities, for just as in the story, "stick won't beat dog, dog won't bite pig, and so the old woman can't get home," science would not be taught in the schools until it is recognised by the universities. this prepared the way for dean farrar's paper on science teaching in the public schools. his experience as a master at harrow made him strongly oppose the existing plan of teaching all boys classical composition whether they were suited for it or no. he wished to exchange a great deal of latin verse-making for elementary science. this paper was doubly interesting to huxley, as coming from a classical master in a public school, and he remarked, "he felt sure that at the present time, the important question for england was not the duration of her coal, but the due comprehension of the truths of science, and the labours of her scientific men." on the practical side, however, mr. j. payne said the great difficulty was the want of teachers; and suggested that if men of science were really in earnest they would condescend to teach in the schools. it was to a certain extent in answer to this appeal that huxley gave his lectures on physiography in , and instituted the course of training for science teachers in . he concluded his work at nottingham by a lecture to working men. the following is in reply to mr. spencer who had accused himself of losing his temper in an argument:--] abbey place, sunday, november , . my dear spencer, your conscience has been treating you with the most extreme and unjust severity. i recollect you looked rather savage at one point in our discussion, but i do assure you that you committed no overt act of ferocity; and if you had, i think i should have fully deserved it for joining in the ferocious onslaught we all made upon you. what your sins may be in this line to other folk i don't know, but so far as i am concerned i assure you i have often said that i know no one who takes aggravated opposition better than yourself, and that i have not a few times been ashamed of the extent to which i have tried your patience. so you see that you have, what the buddhists call a stock of accumulated merit, envers moi--and if you should ever feel inclined to "d--n my eyes" you can do so and have a balance left. seriously, my old friend, you must not think it necessary to apologise to me about any such matters, but believe me (d--nd or und--d) ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. abbey place, november , . my dear darwin, i thank you for the new edition of the "origin," and congratulate you on having done with it for a while, so as to be able to go on to that book of a portion of which i had a glimpse years ago. i hear good accounts of your health, indeed the last was that you were so rampageous you meant to come to london and have a spree among its dissipations. may that be true. i am in the thick of my work, and have only had time to glance at your "historical sketch." what an unmerciful basting you give "our mutual friend." i did not know he had put forward any claim! and even now that i read it black and white, i can hardly believe it. i am glad to hear from spencer that you are on the right (that is my) side in the jamaica business. but it is wonderful how people who commonly act together are divided about it. my wife joins with me in kindest wishes to mrs. darwin and yourself. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. you will receive an elementary physiology book, not for your reading but for miss darwin's. were you not charmed with haeckel? [the "jamaica business" here alluded to was governor eyre's suppression of the negro rising, in the course of which he had executed, under martial law, a coloured leader and member of the assembly, named gordon. the question of his justification in so doing stirred england profoundly. it became the touchstone of ultimate political convictions. men who had little concern for ordinary politics, came forward to defend a great constitutional principle which they conceived to be endangered. a committee was formed to prosecute governor eyre on a charge of murder, in order to vindicate the right of a prisoner to trial by due process of law. thereupon a counter-committee was organised for the defence of the man who, like cromwell, judged that the people preferred their real security to forms, and had presumably saved the white population of jamaica by striking promptly at the focus of rebellion. the "pall mall gazette" of october , , made a would-be smart allusion to the part taken in the affair by huxley, which evoked, in reply, a calm statement of his reasons for joining the prosecuting committee:-- it is amusing (says the "pall mall") to see how the rival committees, the one for the prosecution and the other for the defence of mr. eyre, parade the names of distinguished persons who are enrolled as subscribers on either side. mill is set against carlyle, and to counterbalance the adhesion of the laureate to the defence fund, the "star" hastens to announce that sir charles lyell and professor huxley have given their support to the jamaica committee. everything, of course, depends on the ground on which the subscriptions are given. one can readily conceive that mr. tennyson has been chiefly moved by a generous indignation at the vindictive behaviour of the jamaica committee. it would be curious also to know how far sir charles lyell's and mr. huxley's peculiar views on the development of species have influenced them in bestowing on the negro that sympathetic recognition which they are willing to extend even to the ape as "a man and a brother." the reply appeared in the "pall mall" of october :--] sir, i learn from yesterday evening's "pall mall gazette" that you are curious to know whether certain "peculiar views on the development of species," which i am said to hold in the excellent company of sir charles lyell, have led me to become a member of the jamaica committee. permit me without delay to satisfy a curiosity which does me honour. i have been induced to join that committee neither by my "peculiar views on the development of species," nor by any particular love for, or admiration of the negro--still less by any miserable desire to wreak vengeance for recent error upon a man whose early career i have often admired; but because the course which the committee proposes to take appears to me to be the only one by which a question of the profoundest practical importance can be answered. that question is, does the killing a man in the way mr. gordon was killed constitute murder in the eye of the law, or does it not? you perceive that this question is wholly independent of two others which are persistently confused with it, namely--was mr. gordon a jamaica hampden or was he a psalm-singing fire-brand? and was mr. eyre actuated by the highest and noblest motives, or was he under the influence of panic-stricken rashness or worse impulses? i do not presume to speak with authority on a legal question; but, unless i am misinformed, english law does not permit good persons, as such, to strangle bad persons, as such. on the contrary, i understand that, if the most virtuous of britons, let his place and authority be what they may, seize and hang up the greatest scoundrel in her majesty's dominions simply because he is an evil and troublesome person, an english court of justice will certainly find that virtuous person guilty of murder. nor will the verdict be affected by any evidence that the defendant acted from the best of motives, and, on the whole, did the state a service. now, it may be that mr. eyre was actuated by the best of motives; it may be that jamaica is all the better for being rid of mr. gordon; but nevertheless the royal commissioners, who were appointed to inquire into mr. gordon's case, among other matters, have declared that:-- the evidence, oral and documentary, appears to us to be wholly insufficient to establish the charge upon which the prisoner took his trial. ("report" page .) and again that they cannot see in the evidence which has been adduced, any sufficient proof, either of his (mr. gordon's) complicity in the outbreak at morant bay, or of his having been a party to any general conspiracy against the government. ("report" page .) unless the royal commissioners have greatly erred, therefore, the killing of mr. gordon can only be defended on the ground that he was a bad and troublesome man; in short, that although he might not be guilty, it served him right. i entertain so deeply-rooted an objection to this method of killing people--the act itself appears to me to be so frightful a precedent, that i desire to see it stigmatised by the highest authority as a crime. and i have joined the committee which proposes to indict mr. eyre, in the hope that i may hear a court of justice declare that the only defence which can be set up (if the royal commissioners are right) is no defence, and that the killing of mr. gordon was the greatest offence known to the law--murder. i remain, sir, your obedient servant. t.h. huxley. the atehnaeum club, october , . [two letters to friends who had taken the opposite side in this burning question show how resolutely he set himself against permitting a difference on matters of principle to affect personal relations with his warmest opponents.] jermyn street, november , . my dear kingsley, the letter of which you have heard, containing my reasons for becoming a member of the jamaica committee was addressed to the "pall mall gazette" in reply to some editorial speculations as to my reasons for so doing. i forget the date of the number in which my letter appeared, but i will find it out and send you a copy of the paper. mr. eyre's personality in this matter is nothing to me; i know nothing about him, and, if he is a friend of yours, i am very sorry to be obliged to join in a movement which must be excessively unpleasant to him. furthermore, when the verdict of the jury which will try him is once given, all hostility towards him on my part will cease. so far from wishing to see him vindictively punished, i would much rather, if it were practicable, indict his official hat and his coat than himself. i desire to see mr. eyre indicted and a verdict of guilty in a criminal court obtained, because i have, from its commencement, carefully watched the gordon case; and because a new study of all the evidence which has now been collected has confirmed my first conviction that gordon's execution was as bad a specimen as we have had since jeffries' time of political murder. don't suppose that i have any particular admiration for gordon. he belongs to a sufficiently poor type of small political agitator--and very likely was a great nuisance to the governor and other respectable persons. but that is no reason why he should be condemned, by an absurd tribunal and with a brutal mockery of the forms of justice, for offences with which impartial judges, after a full investigation, declare there is no evidence to show that he was connected. ex-governor eyre seized the man, put him in the hands of the preposterous subalterns, who pretended to try him--saw the evidence and approved of the sentence. he is as much responsible for gordon's death as if he had shot him through the head with his own hand. i daresay he did all this with the best of motives, and in a heroic vein. but if english law will not declare that heroes have no more right to kill people in this fashion than other folk, i shall take an early opportunity of migrating to texas or some other quiet place where there is less hero-worship and more respect for justice, which is to my mind of much more importance than hero-worship. in point of fact, men take sides on this question, not so much by looking at the mere facts of the case, but rather as their deepest political convictions lead them. and the great use of the prosecution, and one of my reasons for joining it, is that it will help a great many people to find out what their profoundest political beliefs are. the hero-worshippers who believe that the world is to be governed by its great men, who are to lead the little ones, justly if they can; but if not, unjustly drive or kick them the right way, will sympathise with mr. eyre. the other sect (to which i belong) who look upon hero-worship as no better than any other idolatry, and upon the attitude of mind of the hero-worshipper as essentially immoral; who think it is better for a man to go wrong in freedom than to go right in chains; who look upon the observance of inflexible justice as between man and man as of far greater importance than even the preservation of social order, will believe that mr. eyre has committed one of the greatest crimes of which a person in authority can be guilty, and will strain every nerve to obtain a declaration that their belief is in accordance with the law of england. people who differ on fundamentals are not likely to convert one another. to you, as to my dear friend tyndall, with whom i almost always act, but who in this matter is as much opposed to me as you are, i can only say, let us be strong enough and wise enough to fight the question out as a matter of principle and without bitterness. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. november , . my dear tyndall, many thanks for the kind note which accompanied your letter to the jamaica committee. when i presented myself at rogers' dinner last night i had not heard of the letter, and gassiot began poking fun at me, and declaring that your absence was due to a quarrel between us on the unhappy subject. i replied to the jest earnestly enough, that i hoped and believed our old friendship was strong enough to stand any strain that might be put on it, much as i grieved that we should be ranged in opposite camps in this or any other cause. that you and i have fundamentally different political principles must, i think, have become obvious to both of us during the progress of the american war. the fact is made still more plain by your printed letter, the tone and spirit of which i greatly admired without being able to recognise in it any important fact or argument which had not passed through my mind before i joined the jamaica committee. thus there is nothing for it but for us to agree to differ, each supporting his own side to the best of his ability, and respecting his friend's freedom as he would his own, and doing his best to remove all petty bitterness from that which is at bottom one of the most important constitutional battles in which englishmen have for many years been engaged. if you and i are strong enough and wise enough, we shall be able to do this, and yet preserve that love for one another which i value as one of the good things of my life. if not, we shall come to grief. i mean to do my best. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [huxley was always of opinion that to write a good elementary text-book required a most extensive and intimate knowledge of the subject under discussion. certainly the "lessons on elementary physiology" which appeared at the end of were the outcome of such knowledge, and met with a wonderful and lasting success as a text-book. a graceful compliment was passed upon it by sir william lawrence, when, in thanking the author for the gift of the book, he wrote (january , ), "in your modest book 'indocti discant, ament meminisse periti!'" this was before the days of american copyright, and english books were usually regarded as fair prey by the mass of american publishers. among the exceptions to this practical rule were the firm of d. appleton & co., who made it a point of honour to treat foreign authors as though they were legally entitled to some equitable rights. on their behalf an arrangement was made for an authorised american edition of the "physiology" by dr. youmans, whose acquaintance thus made my father did not allow to drop. it is worth noting that by the year this little book had passed through four editions, and been reprinted thirty-one times.] chapter . . . [it has already been noted that huxley's ethnological work continued this year with a second series of lectures at the royal institution, while he enlarged his paper on "two widely contrasted forms of human crania," and published it in the "journal of anatomy." one paleontological memoir of his appeared this year on acanthopholis, a fossil from the chalk marl, an additional piece of work for which he excuses himself to sir charles lyell (january , ):--] the new reptile advertised in "geol. mag." has turned up in the way of business, and i could not help giving a notice of it, or i should not have undertaken anything fresh just now. the spitzbergen things are very different, and i have taken sundry looks at them and put them by again to let my thoughts ripen. they are ichthyosaurian, and i am not sure they do not belong to two species. but it is an awful business to compare all the ichthyosaurians. i think that one form is new. please to tell nordenskiold this much. [however, his chief interest was in the anatomy of birds, at which he had been working for some time, and especially the development of certain of the cranial bones as a basis of classification. on april , expanding one of his hunterian lectures, he read a paper on this subject at the zoological society, afterwards published in their "proceedings" for . as he had found the works of professor cornay of help in the preparation of this paper, he was careful to send him a copy with an acknowledgment of his indebtedness, eliciting the reply, "c'est si beau de trouver chez l'homme la science unie a la justice." he followed this up with another paper on "the classification and distribution of the alectoromorphae and heteromorphae" in , and to the work upon this the following letter to his ally, w.k. parker, refers:--] royal geological survey of great britain, jermyn street, july , . my dear parker, nothing short of the direct temptation of the evil one could lead you to entertain so monstrous a doctrine, as that you propound about cariamidae. i recommend fasting for three days and the application of a scourge thrice in the twenty-four hours! do this, and about the fourth day you will perceive that the cranial differences alone are as great as those between cathartes and serpentarius. if you want to hear something new and true it is this:-- . that memora is more unlike all the other passerines (i.e. coracomorphae) than they are unlike one another, and that it will have to stand in a group by itself. it is as much like a wren as you are--less so, in fact, if you go on maintaining that preposterous fiction about serpentarius. . wood-peckers are more like crows than they are like cuckoos. aegithognathae. coracomorphae. desmognathae. *cypselomorphae.--coccygomorphae.--*gecinomorphae. [*shown on a horizontal line between coracomorphae and desmognathae.] . sundevell is the sharpest fellow who has written on the classification of birds. . nitzsch and w.k. parker [except in the case of serpentarius.] are the sharpest fellows who have written on their osteology. . though i do not see how it follows naturally on the above, still, where can i see a good skeleton of glareola? none in college, b.m.s. badly prepared. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [an incident which diversified one of the gilchrist lectures to working men is thus recorded by the "times" of january , :--] a good example. last night, at the termination of a lecture on ethnology, delivered by professor huxley to an audience which filled the theatre of the london mechanics' institute in southampton buildings, chancery lane, the lecturer said that he had received a letter as he entered the building which he would not take the responsibility of declining to read, although it had no reference to the subject under consideration. he then read the letter, which was simply signed "a regular attendant at your lectures," and which in a few words drew attention to the appalling distress existing among the population out of work at the east end, and suggested that all those present at the lecture that night should be allowed the opportunity of contributing one or two pennies each towards a fund for their relief, and that the professor should become the treasurer for the evening. this suggestion was received by the audience with marks of approval. the professor said he would not put pressure on anyone; he would simply place his own subscription in one of the skulls on the table. this he did, and all the audience coming on the platform, threw in money in copper and silver until the novel cash box was filled with coin which amounted to a large sum. a gentleman present expressed a hope that the example set by that audience might be followed with good results wherever large bodies assembled either for educational or recreative purposes. [at the end of april this year my father spent a week in brittany with dr. hooker and sir j. lubbock, rambling about the neighbourhood of rennes and vannes, and combining the examination of prehistoric remains with the refreshment of holiday making. few letters of this period exist. the x club was doing its work. most of those to whom he would naturally have written he met constantly. two letters to professor haeckel give pieces of his experience. one suggests the limits of aggressive polemics, as to which i remember his once saying that he himself had only twice been the aggressor in controversy, without waiting to be personally attacked; once where he found his opponent was engaged in a flanking movement; the other when a man of great public reputation had come forward to champion an untenable position of the older orthodoxy, and a blow dealt to his pretensions to historical and scientific accuracy would not only bring the question home to many who neglected it in an impersonal form, but would also react upon the value of the historical arguments with which he sought to stir public opinion in other spheres. the other letter touches on the influence, at once calming and invigorating, as he had known it to the full for the last twelve years, which a wife can bring in the midst of outward struggles to the inner life of the home.] jermyn street, london, may , . my dear haeckel, your letter, though dated the th, has but just reached me. i mention this lest you should think me remiss, my sin in not writing to you already being sufficiently great. but your book did not reach me until november, and i have been hard at work lecturing, with scarcely an intermission ever since. now i need hardly say that the "morphologie" is not exactly a novel to be taken up and read in the intervals of business. on the contrary, though profoundly interesting, it is an uncommonly hard book, and one wants to read every sentence of it over. i went through it within a fortnight of its coming into my hands, so as to get at your general drift and purpose, but up to this time i have not been able to read it as i feel i ought to read it before venturing upon criticism. you cannot imagine how my time is frittered away in these accursed lectures and examinations. there can be but one opinion, however, as to the knowledge and intellectual grasp displayed in the book; and, to me, the attempt to systematise biology as a whole is especially interesting and valuable. i shall go over this part of your work with great care by and by, but i am afraid you must expect that the number of biologists who will do so, will remain exceedingly small. our comrades are not strong in logic and philosophy. with respect to the polemic excursus, of course, i chuckle over them most sympathetically, and then say how naughty they are! i have done too much of the same sort of thing not to sympathise entirely with you; and i am much inclined to think that it is a good thing for a man, once at any rate in his life, to perform a public war-dance against all sorts of humbug and imposture. but having satisfied one's love of freedom in this way, perhaps the sooner the war-paint is off the better. it has no virtue except as a sign of one's own frame of mind and determination, and when that is once known, is little better than a distraction. i think there are a few patches of this kind, my dear friend, which may as well come out in the next edition, e.g. that wonderful note about the relation of god to gas, the gravity of which greatly tickled my fancy. i pictured to myself the effect which a translation of this would have upon the minds of my respectable countrymen! apropos of translation. darwin wrote to me on that subject, and with his usual generosity, would have made a considerable contribution towards the expense if we could have seen our way to the publication of a translation. but i do not think it would be well to translate the book in fragments, and, as a whole, it would be a very costly undertaking, with very little chance of finding readers. i do not believe that in the british islands there are fifty people who are competent to read the book, and of the fifty, five and twenty have read it or will read it in german. what i desire to do is to write a review of it, which will bring it into some notice on this side of the water, and this i hope to do before long. if i do not it will be, you well know, from no want of inclination, but simply from lack of time. in any case, as soon as i have been able to study the book carefully, you shall have my honest opinion about all points. i am glad your journey has yielded so good a scientific harvest, and especially that you found my "oceanic hydrozoa" of some use. but i am shocked to find that you had no copy of the book of your own, and i shall take care that one is sent to you. it is my first-born work, done when i was very raw and inexperienced, and had neither friends nor help. perhaps i am all the fonder of the child on that ground. a lively memory of you remains in my house, and wife and children will be very glad to hear that i have news of you when i go home to dinner. keep us in kindly recollection, and believe me, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. july , . my dear haeckel, my wife and i send you our most hearty congratulations and good wishes. give your betrothed a good account of us, and for we hope in the future to entertain as warm a friendship for her as for you. i was very glad to have the news, for it seemed to me very sad that a man of your warm affections should be surrounded only by hopeless regrets. such surroundings inflict a sort of partial paralysis upon one's whole nature, a result which is, to me, far more serious and regrettable than the mere suffering one undergoes. the one thing for men, who like you and i stand pretty much alone, and have a good deal of fighting to do in the external world, is to have light and warmth and confidence within the four walls of home. may all these good things await you! many thanks for your kind invitation to jena. i am sure my wife would be as much pleased as i to accept it, but it is very difficult for her to leave her children. we will keep it before us as a pleasant possibility, but i suspect you and madame will be able to come to england before we shall reach germany. i wish i had rooms to offer you, but you have seen that troop of children and they leave no corner unoccupied. many thanks for the bericht and the genealogical tables. you seem, as usual, to have got through an immense amount of work. i have been exceedingly occupied with a paper on the "classification of birds," a sort of expansion of one of my hunterian lectures this year. it has now gone to press, and i hope soon to be able to send you a copy of it. occupation of this and other kinds must be my excuse for having allowed so much longer a time to slip by than i imagined had done before writing to you. it is not for want of sympathy, be sure, for my wife and i have often talked of the new life opening out to you. this is written in my best hand. i am proud of it, as i can read every word quite easily myself, which is more than i can always say for my own ms. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the same experience is attested and enforced in the correspondence with dr. anton dohrn, which begins this year. genial, enthusiastic, as pungent as he was eager in conversation, the future founder of the marine biological station at naples, on his first visit to england, made my father's acquaintance by accepting his invitation to stay with him] "for as long as you can make it convenient to stay" [at swanage,] "a little country town with no sort of amusement except what is to be got by walking about a rather pretty country. but having warned you of this, i repeat that it will give me much pleasure to see you if you think it worthwhile to come so far." [dr. dohrn came, and came into the midst of the family--seven children, ranging from ten years to babyhood, with whom he made himself as popular by his farmyard repertory, as he did with the elders by other qualities. the impression left upon him appears from a letter written soon after:-- "ich habe heute mehrere capitel in mill's 'utilitarianism' gelesen and das wort happiness mehr als einmal gefunden: hatte ich eine definition dieses vielumworbenen wortes irgend jemand zu geben, ich wurde sagen (i have been reading several chapters of mill's 'utilitarianism' to-day, and met with the word 'happiness' more than once; if _i_ had to give anybody a definition of this much debated word, in other say): go and see the huxley family at swanage; and if you would enjoy the same i enjoyed, you would feel what is happiness, and never more ask for a definition of this sentiment."] swanage, september , . my dear dohrn, thanks to my acquaintance with the "microskopische anatomie," and to the fact that you employ our manuscript characters, and not the hieroglyphics of what i venture to call the "cursed" and not "cursiv" schrift, your letter was as easy as it was pleasant to read. we are all glad to have news of you, though it was really very unnecessary to thank us for trying to make your brief visit a pleasant one. your conscience must be more "pungent" than your talk, if it pricks you with so little cause. my wife rejoices saucily to find that phrase of hers has stuck so strongly in your mind, but you must remember her fondness for "tusch." you must certainly marry. in my bachelor days, it was unsafe for anyone to approach me before mid-day, and for all intellectual purposes i was barren till the evening. breakfast at six would have upset me for the day. you and the lobster noted the difference the other day. whether it is matrimony or whether it is middle age i don't know, but as time goes on you can combine both. i cannot but accept your kind offer to send me fanny lewald's works, though it is a shame to rob you of them. in return my wife insists on your studying a copy of tennyson, which we shall send you as soon as we return to civilisation, which will be next friday. if you are in london after that date we shall hope to see you once more before you return to the bosom of the "fatherland." i did my best to give the children your message, but i fear i failed ignominiously in giving the proper bovine vocalisation to "mroo." that small curly-headed boy harry, struck, i suppose by the kindness you both show to children, has effected a synthesis between you and tyndall, and gravely observed the other day, "doctor dohrn-tyndall do say mroo." my wife...sends her kind regards. the "seven" are not here or they would vote love by acclamation. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [he did not this year attend the british association, which was held in dundee. this was the first occasion on which an evening was devoted to a working men's lecture, a step important as tending towards his own ideal of what science should be:--not the province of a few, but the possession of the many. this first lecture was delivered by professor tyndall, who wrote him an account of the meeting, and in particular of his reconciliation with professors thomson (lord kelvin) and tait, with whom he had had a somewhat embittered controversy. in his reply, huxley writes:--] to j. tyndall. thanks also for a copy of the "dundee advertiser" containing your lecture. it seemed to me that the report must be a very good one, and the lecture reads exceedingly well. you have inaugurated the working men's lectures of the association in a way that cannot be improved. and it was worth the trouble, for i suspect they will become a great and noble feature in the meetings. everything seems to have gone well at the meeting, the educational business carried [i.e. a recommendation that natural science be made a part of the curriculum in the public schools], and the anthropologers making fools of themselves in a most effectual way. so that i do not feel that i have anything to reproach myself with for being absent. i am very pleased to hear of the reconciliation with thomson and tait. the mode of it speaks well for them, and the fact will remove a certain source of friction from amongst the cogs of your mental machinery. [the following gives the reason for his resigning the fullerian lectureship:--] athenaeum club, may, . my dear tyndall, a conversation i had with bence jones yesterday reminded me that i ought to have communicated with you. but we do not meet so often as we used to do, being, i suppose, both very busy, and i forget to write. you recollect that the last time we talked together, you mentioned a notion of bence jones's to make the fullerian professorship of physiology a practically permanent appointment, and that i was quite inclined to stick by that (if such arrangement could be carried out), and give up other things. but since i have been engaged in the present course of lectures i have found reason to change my views. it is very hard work, and takes up every atom of my time to make the lectures what they should be; and i find that at this time of year, being more or less used up, i suppose, with the winter work, i stand the worry and excitement of the actual lectures very badly. add to this that it is six weeks clean gone out of the only time i have disposable for real scientific progress, and you will understand how it is that i have made up my mind to resign. i put all this clearly before bence jones yesterday, with the proviso that i could and would do nothing that should embarrass the institution or himself. if there is the least difficulty in supplying my place, or if the managers think i shall deal shadily with them by resigning before the expiration of my term, of course i go on. and i hope you all understand that i would do anything rather than put even the appearance of a slight upon those who were kind enough to elect me. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [he found a substitute for , the last year of the triennial course, in dr. (now sir) michael foster. of his final lectures in he used to tell a story against himself.] in my early period as a lecturer, i had very little confidence in my general powers, but one thing i prided myself upon was clearness. i was once talking of the brain before a large mixed audience, and soon began to feel that no one in the room understood me. finally i saw the thoroughly interested face of a woman auditor, and took consolation in delivering the remainder of the lecture directly to her. at the close, my feeling as to her interest was confirmed when she came up and asked if she might put one question upon a single point which she had not quite understood. "certainly," i replied. "now, professor," she said, "is the cerebellum inside or outside the skull?" ("reminiscences of t.h. huxley" by professor h. fairfield osborn). [dr. foster used to add maliciously, that disgust at the small impression he seemed to have made was the true reason for the transference of the lectures.] chapter . . . [in he published five scientific memoirs, amongst them his classification of birds and "remarks upon archaeopteryx lithographica" ("proceedings of the royal society" pages - ). this creature, a bird with reptilian characters, was a suggestive object from which to popularise some of the far-reaching results of his many years' labour upon the morphology of both birds and reptiles. thus it led to a lecture at the royal institution, on february , "on the animals which are most nearly intermediate between birds and reptiles." of this branch of work sir m. foster says: (obituary notice "proceedings of the royal society" volume ):-- one great consequence of these researches was that science was enriched by a clear demonstration of the many and close affinities between reptiles and birds, so that the two henceforward came to be known under the joint title of sauropsida, the amphibia being at the same time distinctly more separated from the reptiles, and their relations to fishes more clearly signified by the joint title of ichthyopsida. at the same time, proof was brought forward that the line of descent of the sauropsida clearly diverged from that of the mammalia, both starting from some common ancestry. and besides this great generalisation, the importance of which, both from a classificatory and from an evolutional point of view, needs no comment, there came out of the same researches numerous lesser contributions to the advancement of morphological knowledge, including among others an attempt, in many respects successful, at a classification of birds. this work in connection with the reptilian ancestry of birds further appears in the paleontological papers published in upon the dinosaurs (see chapter ), and is referred to in a letter to haeckel. his hunterian lectures on the invertebrata appeared this year in the "quarterly journal of microscopical science" (pages - , and - ), and in the october number of the same journal appeared his famous article "on some organisms living at great depth in the north atlantic ocean," originally delivered before the british association at norwich in this year ( ). the sticky or viscid character of the fresh mud from the bottom of the atlantic had already been noticed by captain dayman when making soundings for the atlantic cable. this stickiness was apparently due to the presence of innumerable lumps of a transparent, gelatinous substance, consisting of minute granules without discoverable nucleus or membranous envelope, and interspersed with cretaceous coccoliths. after a description of the structure of this substance and its chemical reactions, he makes a careful proviso against confounding the statement of fact in the description and the interpretation which he proceeds to put upon these facts:--] i conceive that the granulate heaps and the transparent gelatinous matter in which they are embedded represent masses of protoplasm. take away the cysts which characterise the radiolaria, and a dead sphaerozoum would very nearly represent one of this deep-sea "ur-schleim," which must, i think, be regarded as a new form of those simple animated beings which have recently been so well described by haeckel in his "monographie der moneras" page . [(see "collected essays" .) of this he writes to haeckel on october , :--] this paper] is about a new "moner" which lies at the bottom of the atlantic to all appearances, and gives rise to some wonderful calcified bodies. i have christened it bathybius haeckelii, and i hope that you will not be ashamed of your god-child. i will send you some of the mud with the paper. [the explanation was plausible enough on general grounds, if the evidence had been all that it seemed to be. but it must be noted that the specimens examined by him and by haeckel, who two years later published a full and detailed description of bathybius, were seen in a preserved state. neither of them saw a fresh specimen, though on the cruise of the "porcupine," sir wyville thomson and dr. w. carpenter examined the substance in a fresh state, and found no better explanation to give of it. however, not only were the expectations that it was very widely distributed over the atlantic bottom, falsified in by the researches of the "challenger" expedition, but the behaviour of certain deep-sea specimens gave good ground for suspecting that what had been sent home before as genuine deep-sea mud, was a precipitate due to the action on the specimens of the spirit in which they were preserved. though haeckel, with his special experience of monera, refused to desert bathybius, a close parallel to which was found off greenland in , the rest of its sponsors gave it up. whatever it might be as a matter of possibility, the particular evidence upon which it had been described was tainted. once assured of this, huxley characteristically took the bull by the horns. without waiting for any one else to come forward, he made public renunciation of bathybius at the british association in . the "eating of the leek" as recommended to his friend dohrn (july , ), was not merely a counsel for others, but was a prescription followed by himself on occasion:--] as you know, i did not think you were on the right track with the arthropoda, and i am not going to profess to be sorry that you have finally worked yourself to that conclusion. as to the unlucky publication in the "journal of anatomy and physiology," you have read your shakespeare and know what is meant by "eating a leek." well, every honest man has to do that now and then, and i assure you that if eaten fairly and without grimaces, the devouring of that herb has a very wholesome cooling effect on the blood, particularly in people of sanguine temperament. seriously you must not mind a check of this kind. [this incident, one may suspect, was in his mind when he wrote in his "autobiography" of the rapidity of thought characteristic of his mother:--] that characteristic has been passed on to me in full strength; it has often stood me in good stead, it has sometimes played me sad tricks, and it has always been a danger. [at the norwich meeting of the association he also delivered his well-known lecture to working men "on a piece of chalk," a perfect example of the handling of a common and trivial subject, so as to make it] "a window into the infinite." [he was particularly interested in the success of the meeting, as his friend hooker was president, and writes to darwin, september :--] we had a capital meeting at norwich, and dear old hooker came out in great force as he always does in emergencies. the only fault was the terrible "darwinismus" which spread over the section and crept out when you least expected it, even in fergusson's lecture on "buddhist temples." you will have the rare happiness to see your ideas triumphant during your lifetime. p.s.--i am preparing to go into opposition; i can't stand it. [this lecture "on a piece of chalk," together with two others delivered this year, seem to me to mark the maturing of his style into that mastery of clear expression for which he deliberately laboured, the saying exactly what he meant, neither too much nor too little, without confusion and without obscurity. have something to say, and say it, was the duke of wellington's theory of style; huxley's was to say that which has to be said in such language that you can stand cross-examination on each word. be clear, though you may be convicted of error. if you are clearly wrong, you will run up against a fact some time and get set right. if you shuffle with your subject, and study chiefly to use language which will give a loophole of escape either way, there is no hope for you. this was the secret of his lucidity. in no one could buffon's aphorism on style find a better illustration, "le style c'est l'homme meme." in him science and literature, too often divorced, were closely united; and literature owes him a debt for importing into it so much of the highest scientific habit of mind; for showing that truthfulness need not be bald, and that real power lies more in exact accuracy than in luxuriance of diction. years after, no less an authority than spedding, in a letter upon the influence of bacon on his own style in the matter of exactitude, the pruning of fine epithets and sweeping statements, the reduction of numberless superlatives to positives, asserted that, if as a young man he had fallen in with huxley's writings before bacon's, they would have produced the same effect upon him. of the other two discourses referred to, one is the opening address which he delivered as principal at the south london working men's college on january , "a liberal education, and where to find it." this is not a brief for science to the exclusion of other teaching; no essay has insisted more strenuously on the evils of a one-sided education, whether it be classical or scientific; but it urged the necessity for a strong tincture of science and her method, if the modern conception of the world, created by the spread of natural knowledge, is to be fairly understood. if culture is the "criticism of life," it is fallacious if deprived of knowledge of the most important factor which has transformed the medieval into the modern spirit. two of his most striking passages are to be found in this address; one the simile of the force behind nature as the hidden chess player; the other the noble description of the end of a true education. well known as it is, i venture to quote the latter as an instance of his style:--] that man, i think, has had a liberal education, who has been so trained in youth that his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work that as a mechanism it is capable of; whose intellect is a clear cold logic engine, with all its parts of equal strength, and in smooth working order; ready, like a steam engine, to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of the mind; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental truths of nature and of the laws of her operations; one who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but whose passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all beauty, whether of nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect others as himself. such an one and no other, i conceive, has had a liberal education, for he is, as completely as a man can be, in harmony with nature. he will make the best of her, and she of him. they will get on together rarely; she as his ever-beneficent mother; he as her mouth-piece, her conscious self, her minister and interpreter. [the third of these discourses is the address "on the physical basis of life," of which he writes to haeckel on january , :--] you will be amused to hear that i went to the holy city, edinburgh itself, the other day, for the purpose of giving the first of a series of sunday lectures. i came back without being stoned; but murchison (who is a scotchman you know), told me he thought it was the boldest act of my life. the lecture will be published in february, and i shall send it to you, as it contains a criticism of materialism which i should like you to consider. [in it he explains in popular form a striking generalisation of scientific research, namely, that whether in animals or plants, the structural unit of the living body is made up of similar material, and that vital action and even thought are ultimately based upon molecular changes in this life-stuff. materialism! gross and brutal materialism! was the mildest comment he expected in some quarters; and he took the opportunity to explain how he held] "this union of materialistic terminology with the repudiation of materialistic philosophy," [considering the latter] "to involve grave philosophic error." [his expectations were fully justified; in fact, he writes that some persons seemed to imagine that he had invented protoplasm for the purposes of the lecture. here, too, in the course of a reply to archbishop thompson's confusion of the spirit of modern thought with the system of m. comte, he launched his well-known definition of comtism as catholicism minus christianity, which involved him in a short controversy with mr. congreve (see "the scientific aspects of positivism," "lay sermons" page ), and with another leading positivist, who sent him a letter through mr. darwin. huxley replied:--] jermyn street, march , . my dear darwin, i know quite enough of mr. -- to have paid every attention to what he has to say, even if you had not been his ambassador. i glanced over his letter when i returned home last night very tired with my two nights' chairmanship at the ethnological and the geological societies. most of it is fair enough, though i must say not helping me to any novel considerations. two paragraphs, however, contained opinions which mr. -- is at perfect liberty to entertain, but not, i think, to express to me. the one is, that i shaped what i had to say at edinburgh with a view of stirring up the prejudices of the scotch presbyterians (imagine how many presbyterians i had in my audiences!) against comte. the other is the concluding paragraph, in which mr. -- recommends me to "read comte," clearly implying that i have criticised comte without reading him. you will know how far i am likely to have committed either of the immoralities thus laid to my charge. at any rate, i do not think i care to enter into more direct relations with anyone who so heedlessly and unjustifiably assumes me to be guilty of them. therefore i shall content myself with acknowledging the receipt of mr. --'s letter through you. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. jermyn street, march , . my dear darwin, after i had sent my letter to you the other day i thought how stupid i had been not to put in a slip of paper to say it was meant for --'s edification. i made sure you would understand that i wished it to be sent on, and wrote it (standing on the points of my toes and with my tail up very stiff) with that end in view. [sketch of two dogs bristling up.] i am getting so weary of people writing to propose controversy to me upon one point or another, that i begin to wish the article had never been written. the fighting in itself is not particularly objectionable, but it's the waste of time. i begin to understand your sufferings over the "origin." a good book is comparable to a piece of meat, and fools are as flies who swarm to it, each for the purpose of depositing and hatching his own particular maggot of an idea. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [a little later he wrote to charles kingsley, who had supported him in the controversy:--] jermyn street, april , . my dear kingsley, thanks for your hearty bottle-holding. congreve is no better than a donkey to take the line he does. i studied comte, "philosophie," "politique," and all sixteen years ago, and having formed my judgment about him, put it into one of the pigeon holes of my brain (about the h[ippocampus] minor [see above.]), and there let it rest till it was wanted. you are perfectly right in saying that comte knew nothing about physical science--it is one of the points i am going to put in evidence. the law of the three states is mainly evolved from his own consciousness, and is only a bad way of expressing that tendency to personification which is inherent in man. the classification of sciences is bosh--as spencer has already shown. nothing short of madness, however, can have dictated congreve's challenge of my admiration of comte as a man at the end of his article. did you ever read littre's "life of comte?" i bought it when it came out a year or more ago, and i rose from its perusal with a feeling of sheer disgust and contempt for the man who could treat a noble-hearted woman who had saved his life and his reason, as comte treated his wife. as soon as i have time i will deal with comte effectually, you may depend upon that. at the same time, i shall endeavour to be just to what there is (as i hold), really great and good in his clear conception of the necessity of reconstructing society from the bottom to the top "sans dieu ni roi," if i may interpret that somewhat tall phrase as meaning "with our conceptions of religion and politics on a scientific basis." comte in his later days was an apostate from his own creed; his "nouveau grand etre supreme," being as big a fetish as ever nigger first made and then worshipped. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [it is interesting to note how he invariably submitted his writings to the criticism of his wife before they were seen by any other eye. to her judgment was due the toning down of many a passage which erred by excess of vigour, and the clearing up of phrases which would be obscure to the public. in fact, if an essay met with her approval, he felt sure it would not fail of its effect when published. writing to her from norwich on august , , he confesses himself with reference to the lecture "on a piece of chalk":--] i met grove who edits "macmillan," at the soiree. he pulled the proof of my lecture out of his pocket and said, "look here, there is one paragraph in your lecture i can make neither top nor tail of. i can't understand what it means." i looked to where his finger pointed, and behold it was the paragraph you objected to when i read you the lecture on the sea shore! i told him, and said i should confess, however set up it might make you. [at the beginning of september, he rejoined his wife and family at littlehampton,] "a grand place for children, because you go up rather than down into the sea, and it is quite impossible for them to get into mischief by falling," [as he described it to his friend dr. dohrn, who came down for ten days, eagerly looking forward "to stimulating walks over stock and stone, to tennyson, herbert spencer, and harry's ringing laugh." the latter half of the month he spent at or near dublin, serving upon the commission on science and art instruction:--] today [he writes on september ], we shall be occupied in inspecting the school of science and the glasnevin botanical and agricultural gardens, and to-morrow we begin the session work of examining all the irishry, who want jobs perpetrated. it is weary work, and the papers are already beginning to tell lies about us and attack us. [the rest of the year he remained in london, except the last four days of december, when he was lecturing at newcastle, and stayed with sir w. armstrong at jesmond.] [to professor haeckel.] january , . don't you think we did a right thing in awarding the copley medal to baer last year? the old man was much pleased, and it was a comfort to me to think that we had not let him go to his grave without the highest honour we had to bestow. i am over head and ears, as we say, in work, lecturing, giving addresses to the working men and (figurez vous!) to the clergy. [on december , , there was a meeting of clergy at sion house, under the auspices of dean farrar and the reverend w. rogers of bishopsgate, when the bearing of recent science upon orthodox dogma was discussed. first huxley delivered an address; some of the clergy present denounced any concessions as impossible; others declared that they had long ago accepted the teachings of geology; whereupon a candid friend inquired, "then why don't you say so from your pulpits?" (see "collected essays" .)] in scientific work the main thing just now about which i am engaged is a revision of the dinosauria, with an eye to the "descendenz theorie." the road from reptiles to birds is by way of dinosauria to the ratitae. the bird "phylum" was struthious, and wings grew out of rudimentary forelimbs. you see that among other things i have been reading ernst haeckel's "morphologie." [the next two letters reflect his views on the proper work to be undertaken by men of unusual scientific capacity:--] jermyn street, january , . my dear dohrn, though the most procrastinating correspondent in existence when a letter does not absolutely require an answer, i am tolerably well-behaved when something needs to be said or done immediately. and as that appears to me to be the case with your letter of the th which has this moment reached me, i lose no time in replying to it. the calcutta appointment has been in my hands as well as turner's, and i have made two or three efforts, all of which unfortunately have proved unsuccessful to find: ( ) a man who will do for it and at the same time ( ) for whom it will do. now you fulfil the first condition admirably, but as to the second i have very great doubts. in the first place the climate of calcutta is not particularly good for anyone who has a tendency to dysentery, and i doubt very much if you would stand it for six months. secondly, we have a proverb that it is not wise to use razors to cut blocks. the business of the man who is appointed to that museum will be to get it into order. if he does his duty he will give his time and attention to museum work pure and simple, and i don't think that (especially in an indian climate), he has much energy left for anything else after the day's work is done. naming and arranging specimens is a most admirable and useful employment, but when you have done it is "cutting blocks," and you, my friend, are a most indubitable razor, and i do not wish to have your edge blunted in that fashion. if it were necessary for you to win your own bread, one's advice might be modified. under such circumstances one must do things which are not entirely desirable. but for you who are your own master and have a career before you, to bind yourself down to work six hours a day at things you do not care about and which others could do just as well, while you are neglecting the things which you do care for, and which others could not do so well, would, i think, be amazingly unwise. liberavi animam! don't tell my indian friends i have dissuaded you, but on my conscience i could give you no other advice. we have to thank you three times over. in the first place for a portrait which has taken its place among those of our other friends; secondly for the great pleasure you gave my little daughter jessie, by the books you so kindly sent; and thirdly, for fanny lewald's autobiography which arrived a few days ago. jessie is meditating a letter of thanks (a serious undertaking), and when it is sent the mother will have a word to say for herself. in the middle of october scarlet fever broke out among my children, and they have all had it in succession, except jessie, who took it seven years ago. the last convalescent is now well, but we had the disease in the house nearly three months, and have been like lepers, cut off from all communication with our neighbours for that time. we have had a great deal of anxiety, and my wife has been pretty nearly worn out with nursing day and night; but by great good fortune "the happy family" has escaped all permanent injury, and you might hear as much laughter in the house as at swanage. will you be so kind as to thank professor gegenbaur for a paper on the development of the vertebral column of lepidosteum i have just received from him? he has been writing about the process of ossification and the "deck-knochen" question, but i cannot make out exactly where. could you let me know? i am anxious for the "arthropoden werk," but i expect to gasp when it comes. turn to page of the new edition of our friend kolliker's "handbuch," and you will find that though a view which i took off the "organon adamantinae" some twelve or fourteen years ago, and which kolliker has up to this time repudiated, turns out, and is now admitted by him, to be perfectly correct, yet "that i was not acquainted with the facts that would justify the conclusion." really, if i had time i could be angry. pray remember me most kindly to haeckel, to all whose enemies i wish confusion, and believe me, ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--i have read a hundred pages or so of fanny lewald's first bd., and am delighted with her insight into child-life. [tyndall was resigning his lectureship at the school of mines:--] jermyn street, june , . my dear tyndall, all i can say is, i am heartily sorry. if you feel that your lectures here interfere with your original work, i should not be a true friend either to science or yourself if i said a word against your leaving us. but for all that i am and shall remain very sorry. ever yours very sincerely, t.h. huxley. if you recommend --, of course i shall be very glad to support him in any way i can. but at present i am rather disposed to d--n anyone who occupies your place. [the following extract is from a letter to haeckel (november , ), with reference to the proposed translation of his "morphologie" by the ray society:--] we shall at once look out for a good translator of the text, as the job will be a long and a tough one. my wife (who sends her best wishes and congratulations on your fatherhood) will do the bits of goethe's poetry, and i will look after the prose citations. next as to the text itself. the council were a little alarmed at the bulk of the book, and it is of the utmost importance that it would be condensed to the uttermost. furthermore, english propriety had taken fright at rumours touching the aggressive heterodoxy of some passages. (we do not much mind heterodoxy here, if it does not openly proclaim itself as such.) and on both these points i had not only to give very distinct assurances, such as i thought your letters had entitled me to give; but in a certain sense to become myself responsible for your behaving yourself like a good boy! if i had not known you and understood your nature and disposition as i fancy i do, i should not have allowed myself to be put in this position; but i have implicit faith in your doing what is wise and right, and so making it tenable. there is not the slightest desire to make you mutilate your book or leave out anything which you conceive to be absolutely essential; and i on my part should certainly not think of asking you to make any alteration which would not in my judgment improve the book quite irrespectively of the tastes of the british public. [alterations are suggested.] but i stop. by this time you will be swearing at me for attacking all your favourite bits. let me know what you think about these matters. i congratulate you and madame haeckel heartily on the birth of your boy. children work a greater metamorphosis in men than any other condition of life. they ripen one wonderfully and make life ten times better worth having than it was. abbey place, november , . my dear darwin, you are always the bienvenu, and we shall be right glad to see you on sunday morning. we breakfast at . , and the decks are clear before nine. i would offer you breakfast, but i know it does not suit you to come out unfed; and besides you would abuse the opportunity to demoralise harry. [this small boy of nearly four was a great favourite of darwin's. when we children were all staying at down about this time, darwin himself would come in upon us at dinner, and patting him on the head, utter what was become a household word amongst us, "make yourself at home, and take large mouthfuls."] ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [an undated note to darwin belongs to the very end of this year, or to the beginning of the next:--] the two volumes of the new book have just reached me. my best thanks for them; and if you can only send me a little time for reading within the next three months you will heighten the obligation twenty-fold. i wish i had either two heads or a body that needed no rest! chapter . . . [in huxley published five paleontological papers, chiefly upon the dinosaurs (see letter above to haeckel, january , ). his physiological researches upon the development of parts of the skull, are represented by a paper for the zoological society, while the "introduction to the classification of animals" was a reprint this year of the substance of six lectures in the first part of the lectures on "elementary comparative anatomy" ( ), which were out of print, but still in demand by students. as president of the ethnological society, he delivered an inaugural address "on the ethnology and archeology of india," on march , and another "on the ethnology and archeology of north america," on april . as president of the society, moreover, he urged upon the government the advisability of forming a systematic series of photographs of the various races comprehended in the british empire, and was officially called upon to offer suggestions for carrying out the project. this appears to be an amplification of sir joseph fayrer's plan in , with respect to all the tribes of india (see appendix .) on april he delivered his "scientific education: notes of an after-dinner speech" before the philomathic society at liverpool ("collected essays" ), one part of which deals with the attitude of the clergy towards physical science, and expresses the necessary antagonism between science and roman catholic doctrine which appears more forcibly in one of his speeches at the school board in . in this and other educational addresses, he had suggested that one of the best ways of imparting to children a preliminary knowledge of the phenomena of nature would be a course of what the germans call "erdkunde," or general information about the world we live in. it should reach from our simplest everyday observations to wide generalisations of physical science; and should supply a background for the study of history. to this he gave the name "physiography," a name which he believed to be original, until in his attention was called to the fact that a "physiographie" had been published in paris thirty years before. the idea was no new one with him. part of his preliminary lectures at the school of mines had been devoted to something of the kind for the last dozen years; he had served on the committee of the british association, appointed in as the result of a paper by the present dean farrar, then a harrow master, "on the teaching of science in the public schools," to report upon the whole question. moreover, in consultation with dr. tyndall, he had drawn up a scheme in the winter - , for the science teaching in the international college, on the council of which they both were. seven yearly grades were arranged in this scheme, proceeding from the simplest account of the phenomena of nature taught chiefly by object lessons, largely through the elements of physics and botany, chemistry and human physiology--all illustrated with practical demonstrations--to more advanced work in these subjects, as well as in social science, which embraced not only the theory of commerce and government, but the natural history of man up to the point at which ethnology and archeology touch history. it is interesting to note that the framers of this report thought it necessary to point out that one master could not teach all these subjects. in the three later stages the boys might follow alternative lines of study according to their tastes and capacities; but of the earlier part, which was to be obligatory upon all, the report says:--these four years study, if properly employed by the teachers, will constitute a complete preparatory scientific course. however slight the knowledge of details conferred, a wise teacher of any of these subjects will be able to make that teaching thorough; and to give the scholar a notion of the methods and of the ideas which he will meet with in his further progress in all branches of physical science. in fact, the fundamental principle was to begin with observational science, facts collected; to proceed to classificatory science, facts arranged; and to end with inductive science, facts reasoned upon and laws deduced. while he was much occupied with the theoretical and practical difficulties of such a scheme of science teaching for general use, he was asked by his friend, the reverend w. rogers of bishopsgate, if he would not deliver a course of lectures on elementary science to boys of the schools in which the latter was interested. he finally accepted in the following letter, and as the result, delivered twelve lectures week by week from april to june to a large audience at the london institution in finsbury circus, lectures not easily forgotten by the children who listened to them nor by their elders:--] jermyn street, february , . my dear rogers, upon due reflection i am not indisposed to undertake the course of lessons we talked about the other day, though they will cost me a good deal of trouble in various ways, and at a time of the year when i am getting to the end of my tether and don't much like trouble. but the scheme is too completely in harmony with what (in conjunction with tyndall and others) i have been trying to bring about in schools in general--not to render it a great temptation to me to try to get it into practical shape. all i have to stipulate is that we shall have a clear understanding on the part of the boys and teachers that the discourses are to [be] lessons and not talkee-talkee lectures. i should like it to be understood that the boys are to take notes and to be examined at the end of the course. of course i cannot undertake to be examiner, but the schools might make some arrangement on this point. you see my great object is to set going something which can be worked in every school in the country in a thorough and effectual way, and set an example of the manner in which i think this sort of introduction to science ought to be managed. unless this can be done i would rather not embark in a project which will involve much labour, worry, and interruption to my regular line of work. i met mr. [illegible] last night, and discussed the subject briefly with him. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i enclose a sort of rough programme of the kind of thing i mean, cut up from a project of instruction for a school about which i am now busy. the managers might like to see it. but i shall be glad to have it returned. [these lectures were repeated in november at south kensington museum, as the first part of a threefold course to women on the elements of physical science, and the "times" reporter naively remarks that under the rather alarming name of physiography, many of the audience were no doubt surprised to hear an exceedingly simple and lucid description of a river-basin. want of leisure prevented him from bringing out the lectures in book form until november . when it did appear, however, the book, like his other popular works, had a wide sale, and became the forerunner of an immense number of school-books on the subject. as president of the geological society, he delivered an address ("collected essays" ), at the anniversary meeting, february , upon the "geological reform" demanded by the considerations advanced by the physicists, as to the age of the earth and the duration of life upon it. from the point of view of biology he was ready to accept the limits suggested, provided that the premises of sir william thomson's (now lord kelvin.) argument were shown to be perfectly reliable; but he pointed out a number of considerations which might profoundly modify the results of the isolated causes adduced; and uttered a warning against the possible degradation of "a proper reverence for mathematical certainty" into "a superstitious respect for all arguments arrived at by process of mathematics." (see "collected essays" introduction page .) at the close of the year, as his own period of office came to an end, it was necessary to select a new president of the geological. he strongly urged professor (afterwards sir joseph) prestwich to stand, and when the latter consented, a few weeks, by the way, before his marriage was to take place, replied:--] jermyn street, december , . my dear prestwich, many thanks for your letter. your consent to become our president for the next period will give as unfeigned satisfaction to the whole body of the society as it does to me and your other personal friends. i have looked upon the affair as settled since our last talk, and a very great relief it has been to my mind. there is no doubt public-dinner speaking (and indeed all public speaking) is nervous work. i funk horribly, though i never get the least credit for it. but it is like swimming, the worst of it is in the first plunge; and after you have taken your "header" it's not so bad (just like matrimony, by the way; only don't be so mean as to go and tell a certain lady i said so, because i want to stand well in her books.) of course you may command me in all ways in which i can possibly be of use. but as one of the chiefs of the society, and personally and scientifically popular with the whole body, you start with an immense advantage over me, and will find no difficulties before you. we will consider this business formally settled, and i shall speak of it officially. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [i cannot place the following letter to matthew arnold with certainty, but it must have been written about this period. (the most probable date being , for on july of that year he dined with matthew arnold at harrow.) everyone will sympathise with the situation:--] abbey place, july . my dear arnold, look at bishop wilson on the sin of covetousness and then inspect your umbrella stand. you will there see a beautiful brown smooth-handled umbrella which is not your property. think of what the excellent prelate would have advised and bring it with you next time you come to the club. the porter will take care of it for me. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letter shows how paleontological work was continually pouring in upon him:--] jermyn street, may , . my dear darwin, do you recollect recommending that the "nassau," which sailed under captain mayne's command for magellan's straits some years ago should explore a fossiliferous deposit at the gallegos river? they visited the place the other day as you will see by cunningham's letter which i enclose, and got some fossils which are now in my hands. the skull to which cunningham refers, consists of little more than the jaws, but luckily nearly all the teeth are in place, and prove it to be an entirely new ungulate mammal with teeth in uninterrupted series like anoplotherium, about as big as a small horse. what a wonderful assemblage of beasts there seems to have been in south america! i suspect if we could find them all they would make the classification of the mammalia into a horrid mess. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [and on july , , he writes again to darwin:--] to tell you the truth, what with fossils, ethnology and the great question of "darwinismus" which is such a worry to us all, i have lost sight of the collectors and naturalists "by grace of the dredge," almost as completely as you have. [indeed, the pressure was so great that he resolved to give up the hunterian lectures at the college of surgeons, as he had already given up the fullerian professorship at the royal institution. so he writes to professor (afterwards sir william) flower:--] jermyn street, june , . private, confidential, particular. my dear flower, i have written to quain [president of the royal college of surgeons.] to tell him that i do not propose to be put in nomination for the hunterian chair this year. i really cannot stand it with the british association hanging over my head. so make thy shoulders ready for the gown, and practise the goose-step in order to march properly behind the mace, and i will come and hear your inaugural. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the meeting of the association to which he refers took place at exeter, and he writes of it to darwin (september ):--] as usual, your abominable heresies were the means of getting me into all sorts of hot water at the association. three parsons set upon you, and if you were the most malicious of men you could not have wished them to have made greater fools of themselves than they did. they got considerably chaffed, and that was all they were worth. [(it is perhaps scarcely worth while exhuming these long-forgotten arguments in their entirety; but anyone curious enough to consult the report of the meeting preserved in the files of the "academy," will find, among other things, an entirely novel theory as to the relation of the cherubim to terrestrial creation.) and to tyndall, whom an accident had kept in switzerland:--] after a sharp fight for edinburgh, liverpool was adopted as the place of meeting for the association of , and i am to be president; although the "times" says that my best friends tremble for me. (i hope you are not among that particular lot of my best friends.) i think we shall have a good meeting, and you know you are pledged to give a lecture even if you come with your leg in a sling. [the foundation of the metaphysical society in was not without interest as a sign of the times. as in the new birth of thought which put a period to the middle ages, so in the victorian renaissance, a vast intellectual ferment had taken immediate shape in a fierce struggle with long established orthodoxy. but whereas luther displaced erasmus, and the earlier reformers fought out the quarrel with the weapons of the theologian rather than those of the humanist, the latter-day reformation was based upon the extension of the domain of positive science, upon the force of historical criticism, and the sudden reorganisation of accumulated knowledge in the light of a physical theory adequate to explain it. these new facts and the new or re-vivified theories based upon them, remained to be reckoned with after the first storm of denunciation had passed by, and the meeting at sion house in showed that some at least of the english clergy besides colenso and stanley wished to understand the real meaning of the new movement. although the wider effect of the scientific revival in modifying theological doctrine was not yet fully apparent, the irreconcilables grew fewer and less noisy, while the injustice of their attempts to stifle the new doctrine and to ostracise its supporters became more glaring. thus among the supporters of the old order of thought, there was one section more or less ready to learn of the new. another, seeing that the doctrines of which they were firmly convinced were thrust aside by the rapid advance of the new school, thought, as men not unnaturally think in the like situation, that the latter did not duly weigh what was said on their side. hence this section eagerly entered into the proposal to found a society which should bring together men of diverse views, and effect, as they hoped, by personal discussion of the great questions at issue, in the manner and with the machinery of the learned societies, a rapprochement unattainable by written debate. the scheme was first propounded by mr. james knowles, then editor of the "contemporary review," now of the "nineteenth century," in conversation with tennyson and professor pritchard (savilian professor of astronomy at oxford). thus the society came to be composed of men of the most opposite ways of thinking and of very various occupations in life. the largest group was that of churchmen:--ecclesiastical dignitaries such as thompson, the archbishop of york, ellicott, bishop of gloucester and bristol, and dean alford; staunch laymen such as mr. gladstone, lord selborne, and the duke of argyll; while the liberal school was represented by dean stanley, f.d. maurice, and mark pattison. three distinguished converts from the english church championed roman catholic doctrine--cardinal manning, father dalgairns, and w.g. ward, while unitarianism claimed dr. james martineau. at the opposite pole, in antagonism to christian theology and theism generally, stood professor w.k. clifford, whose youthful brilliancy was destined to be cut short by an untimely death. positivism was represented by mr. frederic harrison; and agnosticism by such men of science or letters as huxley and tyndall, mr. john morley, and mr. leslie stephen. something was gained, too, by the variety of callings followed by the different members. while there were professional students of philosophy, like professor henry sidgwick or sir alexander grant, the principal of edinburgh university, in some the technical knowledge of philosophy was overlaid by studies in history or letters; in others, by the practical experience of the law or politics; in others, again, medicine or biology supplied a powerful psychological instrument. this fact tended to keep the discussions in touch with reality on many sides. there was tennyson, for instance, the only poet who thoroughly understood the movement of modern science, a stately but silent member; mr. ruskin, j.a. froude, shadworth hodgson, r.h. hutton of the "spectator," james hinton, and the well-known essayist, w.r. greg; sir james fitzjames stephen, sir f. pollock, robert lowe (lord sherbrooke), sir m.e. grant duff, and lord arthur russell; sir john lubbock, dr. w.b. carpenter, sir william gull, and sir andrew clark. of contemporary thinkers of the first rank, neither john stuart mill nor mr. herbert spencer joined the society. the letter of the former declining the invitation to join (given in the "life of w.g. ward" page ) is extremely characteristic. he considers the object of the projectors very laudable, "but it is very doubtful whether it will be realised in practice." the undoubted advantages of oral discussion on such questions are, he continues, best realised if undertaken in the manner of the socratic dialogue, between one and one; but less so in a mixed assembly. he therefore did not think himself justified in joining the society at the expense of other occupations for which his time was already engaged. and he concludes by defending himself against the charge of not paying fair attention to the arguments of his opponents. it followed from the composition of the society that the papers read were less commonly upon technical questions of metaphysics, such as "matter and force" or "the relation of will to thought," than upon those of more vivid moral or religious interest, such as "what is death?" "the theory of a soul," "the ethics of belief," or "is god unknowable," in which wide scope was given to the emotions as well as the intellect of each disputant. the method of the society was for the paper to be printed and circulated among the members before the meeting, so that their main criticisms were ready in advance. the discussions took place after a dinner at which many of the members would appear; and if the more formal debates were not more effectual than predicted by j.s. mill, the informal discussions, almost conversations, at smaller meetings, and the free course of talk at the dinner table, did something to realise the primary objects of the society. the personal rapprochement took place, but not philosophic compromise or conversion. whether or not the tone adopted after this period by the clerical party at large was affected by the better understanding on the part of their representatives in the metaphysical society of the true aims of their opponents and the honest and substantial difficulties which stood in the way of reunion, it is true that the violent denunciations of the sixties decreased in number and intensity; the right to free expression of reasoned opinion on serious fact was tacitly acknowledged; and, being less attacked, huxley himself began to be regarded in the light of a teacher rather than an iconoclast. the question began to be not whether such opinions are wicked, but whether from the point of view of scientific method they are irrefragably true. the net philosophical result of the society's work was to distinguish the essential and the unessential differences between the opposite parties; the latter were to a great extent cleared up; but the former remained all the more clearly defined in logical nakedness for the removal of the side issues and the personal idiosyncrasies which often obscured the main issues. indeed, when this point was reached by both parties, when the origins and consequences of the fundamental principles on either side had been fully discussed and mutual misunderstandings removed to the utmost, so that only the fundamentals themselves remained in debate, there was nothing left to be done. the society, in fact, as huxley expressed it,] "died of too much love." [indeed, it is to be noticed that, despite the strong antagonism of principle and deductions from principle which existed among the members, the rule of mutual toleration was well kept. the state of feeling after ten years' open struggle seemed likely to produce active collision between representatives of the opposing schools at close quarters.] "we all thought it would be a case of kilkenny cats," [said huxley many years afterwards.] "hats and coats would be left in the hall, but there would be no owners left to put them on again." [but only one flash of the sort was elicited. one of the speakers at an early meeting insisted on the necessity of avoiding anything like moral disapprobation in the debates. there was a pause; then w.g. ward said: "while acquiescing in this condition as a general rule, i think it cannot be expected that christian thinkers shall give no sign of the horror with which they would view the spread of such extreme opinions as those advocated by mr. huxley." another pause; then huxley, thus challenged, replied: "as dr. ward has spoken, i must in fairness say that it will be very difficult for me to conceal my feeling as to the intellectual degradation which would come of the general acceptance of such views as dr. ward holds." ("life of w.g. ward" by wilfrid ward page .) no amount of argument could have been more effectual in supporting the claim for mutual toleration than those two speeches, and thenceforward such forms of criticism were conspicuous by their absence. and where honesty of conviction was patent, mutual toleration was often replaced by personal esteem and regard. "charity, brotherly love," writes huxley, "were the chief traits of the society. we all expended so much charity, that, had it been money, we should every one have been bankrupt." the special part played in the society by huxley was to show that many of the axioms of current speculation are far from being axiomatic, and that dogmatic assertion on some of the cardinal points of metaphysic is unwarranted by the evidence of fact. to find these seeming axioms set aside as unproven, was, it appears from his "life," disconcerting to such members of the society as cardinal manning, whose arguments depended on the unquestioned acceptance of them. it was no doubt the observation of a similar attitude of mind in mr. gladstone towards metaphysical problems which provoked huxley to reply, when asked whether mr. gladstone was an expert metaphysician--"an expert in metaphysics? he does not know the meaning of the word." in addition to his share in the discussions, huxley contributed three papers to the society. the first, read november , , was on "the views of hume, kant, and whately on the logical basis of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul," showing that these thinkers agreed in holding that no such basis is given by reasoning, a part, for instance, from revelation. a summary of the argument appears in the essay on hume ("collected essays" sq.) on november , , he read a paper, "has a frog a soul? and if so, of what nature is that soul?" experiment shows that a frog deprived of consciousness and volition by the removal of the front part of its brain, will, under the action of various stimuli, perform many acts which can only be called purposive, such as moving to recover its balance when the board on which it stands is inclined, or scratching where it is made uncomfortable, or croaking when pressed in a particular spot. if its spinal cord be severed, the lower limbs, disconnected from the brain, will also perform actions of this kind. the question arises, is the frog entirely a soulless automaton, performing all its actions directly in response to external stimuli, only more perfectly and with more delicate adjustment when its brain remains intact, or is its soul distributed along its spinal marrow, so that it can be divided into two parts independent of one another? the professed metaphysician might perhaps tend to regard such consideration as irrelevant; but if the starting-point of metaphysics is to be found in psychology, psychology itself depends to no small extent upon physiology. this question, however, huxley did not pretend to solve. in the existing state of knowledge he believed it to be insoluble. but he thought it was not without its bearing upon the supposed relations of soul and body in the human subject, and should serve to give pause to current theories on the matter. his third paper, read january , , was on the "evidence of the miracle of the resurrection," in which he argued that there was no valid evidence of actual death having taken place. his rejection of the miraculous had led to an invitation from some of his opponents in the society to write a paper on a definite miracle, and explain his reasons for not accepting it. his choice of subject was due to two reasons: firstly, it was a cardinal instance; secondly, it was a miracle not worked by christ himself, and therefore a discussion of its genuineness could offer no suggestion of personal fraud, and hence would avoid inflicting gratuitous pain upon believers in it. this certainty that there exist many questions at present insoluble, upon which it is intellectually, and indeed morally wrong to assert that we have real knowledge, had long been with him, but, although he had earned abundant odium by openly resisting the claims of dogmatic authority, he had not been compelled to define his philosophical position until he entered the metaphysical society. how he came to enrich the english language with the name "agnostic" is explained in his article "agnosticism" ("collected essays" pages - ). after describing how it came about that his mind] "steadily gravitated towards the conclusions of hume and kant," [so well stated by the latter as follows:-- the greatest and perhaps the sole use of all philosophy of pure reason is, after all, merely negative, since it serves not as an organon for the enlargement (of knowledge), but as a discipline for its delimitation; and, instead of discovering truth, has only the modest merit of preventing error:-- he proceeds:--] when i reached intellectual maturity, and began to ask myself whether i was an atheist, a theist, or a pantheist; a materialist or an idealist; a christian or a freethinker; i found that the more i learned and reflected, the less ready was the answer; until, at last, i came to the conclusion that i had neither art nor part with any of these denominations, except the last. the one thing in which most of these good people were agreed was the one thing in which i differed from them. they were quite sure they had attained a certain "gnosis"--had, more or less successfully, solved the problem of existence; while i was quite sure i had not, and had a pretty strong conviction that the problem was insoluble. and, with hume and kant on my side, i could not think myself presumptuous in holding fast by that opinion... this was my situation when i had the good fortune to find a place among the members of that remarkable confraternity of antagonists, long since deceased, but of green and pious memory, the metaphysical society. every variety of philosophical and theological opinion was represented there, and expressed itself with entire openness; most of my colleagues were -ists of one sort or another; and, however kind and friendly they might be, i, the man without a rag of a label to cover himself with, could not fail to have some of the uneasy feelings which must have beset the historical fox when, after leaving the trap in which his tail remained, he presented himself to his normally elongated companions. so i took thought, and invented what i conceived to be the appropriate title of "agnostic." it came into my head as suggestively antithetic to the "gnostic" of church history, who professed to know so much about the very things of which i was ignorant; and i took the earliest opportunity of parading it at our society, to show that i, too, had a tail, like the other foxes. to my great satisfaction, the term took; and when the "spectator" had stood godfather to it, any suspicion in the minds of respectable people that a knowledge of its parentage might have awakened was, of course, completely lulled. [as for the dialectical powers he displayed in the debates, it was generally acknowledged that in this, as well as in the power of conducting a debate, he shared the pre-eminence with w.g. ward. indeed, a proposal was made that the perpetual presidency in alternate years should be vested in these two; but time and health forbade. his part in the debates is thus described in a letter to me from professor henry sidgwick:-- dear mr. huxley, i became a member of the metaphysical society, i think, at its first meeting in ; and, though my engagements in cambridge did not allow me to attend regularly, i retain a very distinct recollection of the part taken by your father in the debates at which we were present together. there were several members of the society with whose philosophical views i had, on the whole, more sympathy; but there was certainly no one to whom i found it more pleasant and more instructive to listen. indeed i soon came to the conclusion that there was only one other member of our society who could be placed on a par with him as a debater, on the subjects discussed at our meetings; and that was, curiously enough, a man of the most diametrically opposite opinions--w.g. ward, the well-known advocate of ultramontanism. ward was by training, and perhaps by nature, more of a dialectician; but your father was unrivalled in the clearness, precision, succinctness, and point of his statements, in his complete and ready grasp of his own system of philosophical thought, and the quickness and versatility with which his thought at once assumed the right attitude of defence against any argument coming from any quarter. i used to think that while others of us could perhaps find, on the spur of the moment, an answer more or less effective to some unexpected attack, your father seemed always able to find the answer--i mean the answer that it was reasonable to give, consistently with his general view, and much the same answer that he would have given if he had been allowed the fullest time for deliberation. the general tone of the metaphysical society was one of extreme consideration for the feelings of opponents, and your father's speaking formed no exception to the general harmony. at the same time i seem to remember him as the most combative of all the speakers who took a leading part in the debates. his habit of never wasting words, and the edge naturally given to his remarks by his genius for clear and effective statement, partly account for this impression; still i used to think that he liked fighting, and occasionally liked to give play to his sarcastic humour--though always strictly within the limits imposed by courtesy. i remember that on one occasion when i had read to the society an essay on the "incoherence of empiricism," i looked forward with some little anxiety to his criticisms; and when they came, i felt that my anxiety had not been superfluous; he "went for" the weak points of my argument in half a dozen trenchant sentences, of which i shall not forget the impression. it was hard hitting, though perfectly courteous and fair. i wish i could remember what he said, but the memory of all the words uttered in these debates has now vanished from my mind, though i recall vividly the general impression that i have tried briefly to put down. believe me, yours very truly, henry sidgwick. more letters of charles darwin by charles darwin a record of his work in a series of hitherto unpublished letters edited by francis darwin, fellow of christ's college, and a.c. seward, fellow of emmanuel college, cambridge in two volumes transcriber's notes: all biographical footnotes of both volumes appear at the end of volume ii. all other notes by charles darwin's editors appear in the text, in brackets () with a chapter/note or letter/note number. volume ii. dedicated with affection and respect, to sir joseph hooker in remembrance of his lifelong friendship with charles darwin "you will never know how much i owe to you for your constant kindness and encouragement" charles darwin to sir joseph hooker, september , more letters of charles darwin volume ii chapter .vii.--geographical distribution. - (continued) ( - .) letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, january th, . prof. miquel, of utrecht, begs me to ask you for your carte, and offers his in return. i grieve to bother you on such a subject. i am sick and tired of this carte correspondence. i cannot conceive what humboldt's pyrenean violet is: no such is mentioned in webb, and no alpine one at all. i am sorry i forgot to mention the stronger african affinity of the eastern canary islands. thank you for mentioning it. i cannot admit, without further analysis, that most of the peculiar atlantic islands genera were derived from europe, and have since become extinct there. i have rather thought that many are only altered forms of existing european genera; but this is a very difficult point, and would require a careful study of such genera and allies with this object in view. the subject has often presented itself to me as a grand one for analytic botany. no doubt its establishment would account for the community of the peculiar genera on the several groups and islets, but whilst so many species are common we must allow for a good deal of migration of peculiar genera too. by jove! i will write out next mail to the governor of st. helena for boxes of earth, and you shall have them to grow. thanks for telling me of having suggested to me the working out of proportions of plants with irregular flowers in islands. i thought it was a deuced deal too good an idea to have arisen spontaneously in my block, though i did not recollect your having done so. no doubt your suggestion was crystallised in some corner of my sensorium. i should like to work out the point. have you kerguelen land amongst your volcanic islands? i have a curious book of a sealer who was wrecked on the island, and who mentions a volcanic mountain and hot springs at the s.w. end; it is called the "wreck of the favourite." ( / . "narrative of the wreck of the 'favourite' on the island of desolation; detailing the adventures, sufferings and privations of john munn; an historical account of the island and its whale and sea fisheries." edited by w.b. clarke: london, .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march th, . it is a long time since i have written, but i cannot boast that i have refrained from charity towards you, but from having lots of work...you ask what i have been doing. nothing but blackening proofs with corrections. i do not believe any man in england naturally writes so vile a style as i do... in your paper on "insular floras" (page ) there is what i must think an error, which i before pointed out to you: viz., you say that the plants which are wholly distinct from those of nearest continent are often very common instead of very rare. ( / . "insular floras," pamphlet reprinted from the "gardeners' chronicle," page : "as a general rule the species of the mother continent are proportionally the most abundant, and cover the greatest surface of the islands. the peculiar species are rarer, the peculiar genera of continental affinity are rarer still; whilst the plants having no affinity with those of the mother continent are often very common." in a letter of march th, , sir joseph explains that in the case of the atlantic islands it is the "peculiar genera of european affinity that are so rare," while clethra, dracaena and the laurels, which have no european affinity, are common.) etty ( / . mr. darwin's daughter, now mrs. litchfield.), who has read your paper with great interest, was confounded by this sentence. by the way, i have stumbled on two old notes: one, that twenty-two species of european birds occasionally arrive as chance wanderers to the azores; and, secondly, that trunks of american trees have been known to be washed on the shores of the canary islands by the gulf-stream, which returns southward from the azores. what poor papers those of a. murray are in "gardeners' chronicle." what conclusions he draws from a single carabus ( / . "dr. hooker on insular floras" ("gardeners' chronicle," , pages , ). the reference to the carabidous beetle (aplothorax) is at page .), and that a widely ranging genus! he seems to me conceited; you and i are fair game geologically, but he refers to lyell, as if his opinion on a geological point was worth no more than his own. i have just bought, but not read a sentence of, murray's big book ( / . "geographical distribution of mammals," .), second-hand, for s., new, so i do not envy the publishers. it is clear to me that the man cannot reason. i have had a very nice letter from scott at calcutta ( / . see letter .): he has been making some good observations on the acclimatisation of seeds from plants of same species, grown in different countries, and likewise on how far european plants will stand the climate of calcutta. he says he is astonished how well some flourish, and he maintains, if the land were unoccupied, several could easily cross, spreading by seed, the tropics from north to south, so he knows how to please me; but i have told him to be cautious, else he will have dragons down on him... as the azores are only about two-and-a-half times more distant from america (in the same latitude) than from europe, on the occasional migration view (especially as oceanic currents come directly from west indies and florida, and heavy gales of wind blow from the same direction), a large percentage of the flora ought to be american; as it is, we have only the sanicula, and at present we have no explanation of this apparent anomaly, or only a feeble indication of an explanation in the birds of the azores being all european. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, march st [ ]. many thanks for your pleasant and very amusing letter. you have been treated shamefully by etty and me, but now that i know the facts, the sentence seems to me quite clear. nevertheless, as we have both blundered, it would be well to modify the sentence something as follows: "whilst, on the other hand, the plants which are related to those of distant continents, but have no affinity with those of the mother continent, are often very common." i forget whether you explain this circumstance, but it seems to me very mysterious ( / . sir joseph hooker wrote (march rd, ): "i see you 'smell a rat' in the matter of insular plants that are related to those of [a] distant continent being common. yes, my beloved friend, let me make a clean breast of it. i only found it out after the lecture was in print!...i have been waiting ever since to 'think it out,' and write to you about it, coherently. i thought it best to squeeze it in, anyhow or anywhere, rather than leave so curious a fact unnoticed.")...do always remember that nothing in the world gives us so much pleasure as seeing you here whenever you can come. i chuckle over what you say of and. murray, but i must grapple with his book some day. letter . to c. lyell. down, october st [ ]. mr. [j.p. mansel] weale sent to me from natal a small packet of dry locust dung, under / oz., with the statement that it is believed that they introduce new plants into a district. ( / . see volume i., letter .) this statement, however, must be very doubtful. from this packet seven plants have germinated, belonging to at least two kinds of grasses. there is no error, for i dissected some of the seeds out of the middle of the pellets. it deserves notice that locusts are sometimes blown far out to sea. i caught one miles from africa, and i have heard of much greater distances. you might like to hear the following case, as it relates to a migratory bird belonging to the most wandering of all orders--viz. the woodcock. ( / . "origin," edition vi., page .) the tarsus was firmly coated with mud, weighing when dry grains, and from this the juncus bufonius, or toad rush, germinated. by the way, the locust case verifies what i said in the "origin," that many possible means of distribution would be hereafter discovered. i quite agree about the extreme difficulty of the distribution of land mollusca. you will have seen in the last edition of "origin" ( / . "origin," edition iv., page . the reference is to mm. marten's ( / . for marten's read martins' [the name is wrongly spelt in the "origin of species."]) experiments on seeds "in a box in the actual sea.") that my observations on the effects of sea-water have been confirmed. i still suspect that the legs of birds which roost on the ground may be an efficient means; but i was interrupted when going to make trials on this subject, and have never resumed it. we shall be in london in the middle of latter part of november, when i shall much enjoy seeing you. emma sends her love, and many thanks for lady lyell's note. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, wednesday [ ]. i daresay there is a great deal of truth in your remarks on the glacial affair, but we are in a muddle, and shall never agree. i am bigoted to the last inch, and will not yield. i cannot think how you can attach so much weight to the physicists, seeing how hopkins, hennessey, haughton, and thomson have enormously disagreed about the rate of cooling of the crust; remembering herschel's speculations about cold space ( / . the reader will find some account of herschel's views in lyell's "principles," , edition xi., volume i., page .), and bearing in mind all the recent speculations on change of axis, i will maintain to the death that your case of fernando po and abyssinia is worth ten times more than the belief of a dozen physicists. ( / . see "origin," edition vi., page : "dr. hooker has also lately shown that several of the plants living on the upper parts of the lofty island of fernando po and on the neighbouring cameroon mountains, in the gulf of guinea, are closely related to those in the mountains of abyssinia, and likewise to those of temperate europe." darwin evidently means that such facts as these are better evidence of the gigantic periods of time occupied by evolutionary changes than the discordant conclusions of the physicists. see "linn. soc. journ." volume vii., page , for hooker's general conclusions; also hooker and ball's "marocco," appendix f, page . for the case of fernando po see hooker ("linn. soc. journ." vi., , page , where he sums up: "hence the result of comparing clarence peak flora [fernando po] with that of the african continent is--( ) the intimate relationship with abyssinia, of whose flora it is a member, and from which it is separated by miles of absolutely unexplored country; ( ) the curious relationship with the east african islands, which are still farther off; ( ) the almost total dissimilarity from the cape flora." for sir j.d. hooker's general conclusions on the cameroon plants see "linn. soc. journ." vii., page . more recently equally striking cases have come to light: for instance, the existence of a mediterranean genus, adenocarpus, in the cameroons and on kilima njaro, and nowhere else in africa; and the probable migration of south african forms along the highlands from the natal district to abysinnia. see hooker, "linn. soc. journ." xiv., , pages - .) your remarks on my regarding temperate plants and disregarding the tropical plants made me at first uncomfortable, but i soon recovered. you say that all botanists would agree that many tropical plants could not withstand a somewhat cooler climate. but i have come not to care at all for general beliefs without the special facts. i have suffered too often from this: thus i found in every book the general statement that a host of flowers were fertilised in the bud, that seeds could not withstand salt water, etc., etc. i would far more trust such graphic accounts as that by you of the mixed vegetation on the himalayas and other such accounts. and with respect to tropical plants withstanding the slowly coming on cool period, i trust to such facts as yours (and others) about seeds of the same species from mountains and plains having acquired a slightly different climatal constitution. i know all that i have said will excite in you savage contempt towards me. do not answer this rigmarole, but attack me to your heart's content, and to that of mine, whenever you can come here, and may it be soon. letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. kew, . ( / . the following extract from a letter of sir j.d. hooker shows the tables reversed between the correspondents.) grove is disgusted at your being disquieted about w. thomson. tell george from me not to sit upon you with his mathematics. when i threatened your tropical cooling views with the facts of the physicists, you snubbed me and the facts sweetly, over and over again; and now, because a scarecrow of x+y has been raised on the selfsame facts, you boo-boo. take another dose of huxley's penultimate g. s. address, and send george back to college. ( / . huxley's anniversary address to the geological society, ("collected essays," viii., page ). this is a criticism of lord kelvin's paper "on geological time" ("trans. geolog. soc. glasgow," iii.). at page mr. huxley deals with lord kelvin's "third line of argument, based on the temperature of the interior of the earth." this was no doubt the point most disturbing to mr. darwin, since it led lord kelvin to ask (as quoted by huxley), "are modern geologists prepared to say that all life was killed off the earth , , , , or , years ago?" mr. huxley, after criticising lord kelvin's data and conclusion, gives his conviction that the case against geology has broken down. with regard to evolution, huxley (page ) ingeniously points out a case of circular reasoning. "but it may be said that it is biology, and not geology, which asks for so much time--that the succession of life demands vast intervals; but this appears to me to be reasoning in a circle. biology takes her time from geology. the only reason we have for believing in the slow rate of the change in living forms is the fact that they persist through a series of deposits which, geology informs us, have taken a long while to make. if the geological clock is wrong, all the naturalist will have to do is to modify his notions of the rapidity of change accordingly.") letter . to j.d. hooker. february rd [ ]. i am now reading miquel on "flora of japan" ( / . miquel, "flore du japon": "archives neerlandaises" ii., .), and like it: it is rather a relief to me (though, of course, not new to you) to find so very much in common with asia. i wonder if a. murray's ( / . "geographical distribution of mammals," by andrew murray, . see chapter v., page . see letter .) notion can be correct, that a [profound] arm of the sea penetrated the west coast of n. america, and prevented the asiatico-japan element colonising that side of the continent so much as the eastern side; or will climate suffice? i shall to the day of my death keep up my full interest in geographical distribution, but i doubt whether i shall ever have strength to come in any fuller detail than in the "origin" to this grand subject. in fact, i do not suppose any man could master so comprehensive a subject as it now has become, if all kingdoms of nature are included. i have read murray's book, and am disappointed--though, as you said, here and there clever thoughts occur. how strange it is, that his view not affording the least explanation of the innumerable adaptations everywhere to be seen apparently does not in the least trouble his mind. one of the most curious cases which he adduces seems to me to be the two allied fresh-water, highly peculiar porpoises in the ganges and indus; and the more distantly allied form of the amazons. do you remember his explanation of an arm of the sea becoming cut off, like the caspian, converted into fresh-water, and then divided into two lakes (by upheaval), giving rise to two great rivers. but no light is thus thrown on the affinity of the amazon form. i now find from flower's paper ( / . "zoolog. trans." vi., , page . the toothed whales are divided into the physeteridae, the delphinidae, and the platanistidae, which latter is placed between the two other families, and is divided into the sub-families iniinae and platanistinae.) that these fresh-water porpoises form two sub-families, making an extremely isolated and intermediate, very small family. hence to us they are clearly remnants of a large group; and i cannot doubt we here have a good instance precisely like that of ganoid fishes, of a large ancient marine group, preserved exclusively in fresh-water, where there has been less competition, and consequently little modification. ( / . see volume i., letter .) what a grand fact that is which miquel gives of the beech not extending beyond the caucasus, and then reappearing in japan, like your himalayan pinus, and the cedar of lebanon. ( / . for pinus read deodar. the essential identity of the deodar and the cedar of lebanon was pointed out in hooker's "himalayan journals" in (volume i., page .n). in the "nat. history review," january, , the question is more fully dealt with by him, and the distribution discussed. the nearest point at which cedars occur is the bulgar-dagh chain of taurus-- miles from lebanon. under the name of cedrus atlantica the tree occurs in mass on the borders of tunis, and as deodar it first appears to the east in the cedar forests of afghanistan. sir j.d. hooker supposes that, during a period of greater cold, the cedars on the taurus and on lebanon lived many thousand feet nearer the sea-level, and spread much farther to the east, meeting similar belts of trees descending and spreading westward from afghanistan along the persian mountains.) i know of nothing that gives one such an idea of the recent mutations in the surface of the land as these living "outlyers." in the geological sense we must, i suppose, admit that every yard of land has been successively covered with a beech forest between the caucasus and japan! i have not yet seen (for i have not sent to the station) falconer's works. when you say that you sigh to think how poor your reprinted memoirs would appear, on my soul i should like to shake you till your bones rattled for talking such nonsense. do you sigh over the "insular floras," the introduction to new zealand flora, to australia, your arctic flora, and dear galapagos, etc., etc., etc.? in imagination i am grinding my teeth and choking you till i put sense into you. farewell. i have amused myself by writing an audaciously long letter. by the way, we heard yesterday that george has won the second smith's prize, which i am excessively glad of, as the second wrangler by no means always succeeds. the examination consists exclusively of [the] most difficult subjects, which such men as stokes, cayley, and adams can set. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. march th, . ...while writing a few pages on the northern alpine forms of plants on the java mountains i wanted a few cases to refer to like teneriffe, where there are no northern forms and scarcely any alpine. i expected the volcanoes of hawaii would be a good case, and asked dr. seemann about them. it seems a man has lately published a list of hawaiian plants, and the mountains swarm with european alpine genera and some species! ( / . "this turns out to be inaccurate, or greatly exaggerated. there are no true alpines, and the european genera are comparatively few. see my 'island life,' page ."--a.r.w.) is not this most extraordinary, and a puzzler? they are, i believe, truly oceanic islands, in the absence of mammals and the extreme poverty of birds and insects, and they are within the tropics. will not that be a hard nut for you when you come to treat in detail on geographical distribution? i enclose seemann's note, which please return when you have copied the list, if of any use to you. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, february st [ ]. i read yesterday the notes on round island ( / . in wallace's "island life," page , round island is described as an islet "only about a mile across, and situated about fourteen miles north-east of mauritius." wallace mentions a snake, a python belonging to the peculiar and distinct genus casarea, as found on round island, and nowhere else in the world. the palm latania loddigesii is quoted by wallace as "confined to round island and two other adjacent islets." see baker's "flora of the mauritius and the seychelles." mr. wallace says that, judging from the soundings, round island was connected with mauritius, and that when it was "first separated [it] would have been both much larger and much nearer the main island.") which i owe to you. was there ever such an enigma? if, in the course of a week or two, you can find time to let me hear what you think, i should very much like to hear: or we hope to be at erasmus' on march th for a week. would there be any chance of your coming to luncheon then? what a case it is. palms, screw-pines, four snakes--not one being in main island--lizards, insects, and not one land bird. but, above everything, such a proportion of individual monocotyledons! the conditions do not seem very different from the tuff galapagos island, but, as far as i remember, very few monocotyledons there. then, again, the island seems to have been elevated. i wonder much whether it stands out in the line of any oceanic current, which does not so forcibly strike the main island? but why, oh, why should so many monocotyledons have come there? or why should they have survived there more than on the main island, if once connected? so, again, i cannot conceive that four snakes should have become extinct in mauritius and survived on round island. for a moment i thought that mauritius might be the newer island, but the enormous degradation which the outer ring of rocks has undergone flatly contradicts this, and the marine remains on the summit of round island indicate the island to be comparatively new--unless, indeed, they are fossil and extinct marine remains. do tell me what you think. there never was such an enigma. i rather lean to separate immigration, with, of course, subsequent modification; some forms, of course, also coming from mauritius. speaking of mauritius reminds me that i was so much pleased the day before yesterday by reading a review of a book on the geology of st. helena, by an officer who knew nothing of my hurried observations, but confirms nearly all that i have said on the general structure of the island, and on its marvellous denudation. the geology of that island was like a novel. letter . to a. blytt. down, march th, . ( / . the following refers to blytt's "essay on the immigration of the norwegian flora during alternating rainy and dry periods," christiania, .) i thank you sincerely for your kindness in having sent me your work on the "immigration of the norwegian flora," which has interested me in the highest degree. your view, supported as it is by various facts, appears to me the most important contribution towards understanding the present distribution of plants, which has appeared since forbes' essay on the effects of the glacial period. letter . to aug. forel. down, june th, . i hope you will allow me to suggest an observation, should any opportunity occur, on a point which has interested me for many years--viz., how do the coleoptera which inhabit the nests of ants colonise a new nest? mr. wallace, in reference to the presence of such coleoptera in madeira, suggests that their ova may be attached to the winged female ants, and that these are occasionally blown across the ocean to the island. it would be very interesting to discover whether the ova are adhesive, and whether the female coleoptera are guided by instinct to attach them to the female ants ( / . dr. sharp is good enough to tell us that he is not aware of any such adaptation. broadly speaking, the distribution of the nest-inhabiting beetles is due to co-migration with the ants, though in some cases the ants transport the beetles. sitaris and meloe are beetles which live "at the expense of bees of the genus anthophora." the eggs are laid not in but near the bees' nest; in the early stage the larva is active and has the instinct to seize any hairy object near it, and in this way they are carried by the anthophora to the nest. dr. sharp states that no such preliminary stage is known in the ant's-nest beetles. for an account of sitaris and meloe, see sharp's "insects," ii., page .); or whether the larvae pass through an early stage, as with sitaris or meloe, or cling to the bodies of the females. this note obviously requires no answer. i trust that you continue your most interesting investigations on ants. (plate: mr. a.r. wallace, . from a photograph by maull & fox.) letter . to a.r. wallace. ( / . published in "life and letters," iii., page .) ( / . the following five letters refer to mr. wallace's "geographical distribution of animals," .) [hopedene] ( / . mr. hensleigh wedgwood's house in surrey.), june th, . i must have the pleasure of expressing to you my unbounded admiration of your book ( / . "geographical distribution," .), though i have read only to page --my object having been to do as little as possible while resting. i feel sure that you have laid a broad and safe foundation for all future work on distribution. how interesting it will be to see hereafter plants treated in strict relation to your views; and then all insects, pulmonate molluscs and fresh-water fishes, in greater detail than i suppose you have given to these lower animals. the point which has interested me most, but i do not say the most valuable point, is your protest against sinking imaginary continents in a quite reckless manner, as was stated by forbes, followed, alas, by hooker, and caricatured by wollaston and [andrew] murray! by the way, the main impression that the latter author has left on my mind is his utter want of all scientific judgment. i have lifted up my voice against the above view with no avail, but i have no doubt that you will succeed, owing to your new arguments and the coloured chart. of a special value, as it seems to me, is the conclusion that we must determine the areas, chiefly by the nature of the mammals. when i worked many years ago on this subject, i doubted much whether the now-called palaearctic and nearctic regions ought to be separated; and i determined if i made another region that it should be madagascar. i have, therefore, been able to appreciate your evidence on these points. what progress palaeontology has made during the last twenty years! but if it advances at the same rate in the future, our views on the migration and birthplace of the various groups will, i fear, be greatly altered. i cannot feel quite easy about the glacial period, and the extinction of large mammals, but i must hope that you are right. i think you will have to modify your belief about the difficulty of dispersal of land molluscs; i was interrupted when beginning to experimentise on the just hatched young adhering to the feet of ground-roosting birds. i differ on one other point--viz. in the belief that there must have existed a tertiary antarctic continent, from which various forms radiated to the southern extremities of our present continents. but i could go on scribbling forever. you have written, as i believe, a grand and memorable work, which will last for years as the foundation for all future treatises on geographical distribution. p.s.--you have paid me the highest conceivable compliment, by what you say of your work in relation to my chapters on distribution in the "origin," and i heartily thank you for it. letter . from a.r. wallace to charles darwin. the dell, grays, essex, june th, . many thanks for your very kind letter. so few people will read my book at all regularly, that a criticism from one who does so will be very welcome. if, as i suppose, it is only to page of volume i. that you have read, you cannot yet quite see my conclusions on the points you refer to (land molluscs and antarctic continent). my own conclusion fluctuated during the progress of the book, and i have, i know, occasionally used expressions (the relics of earlier ideas) which are not quite consistent with what i say further on. i am positively against any southern continent as uniting south america with australia or new zealand, as you will see at volume i., pages - , and - . my general conclusions as to distribution of land mollusca are at volume ii., pages - . ( / . "geographical distribution" ii., pages , . mr. wallace points out that "hardly a small island on the globe but has some land-shells peculiar to it"--and he goes so far as to say that probably air-breathing mollusca have been chiefly distributed by air- or water-carriage, rather than by voluntary dispersal on the land.) when you have read these passages, and looked at the general facts which lead to them, i shall be glad to hear if you still differ from me. though, of course, present results as to the origin and migrations of genera of mammals will have to be modified owing to new discoveries, i cannot help thinking that much will remain unaffected, because in all geographical and geological discoveries the great outlines are soon reached, the details alone remain to be modified. i also think much of the geological evidence is now so accordant with, and explanatory of, geographical distribution, that it is prima facie correct in outline. nevertheless, such vast masses of new facts will come out in the next few years that i quite dread the labour of incorporating them in a new edition. i hope your health is improved; and when, quite at your leisure, you have waded through my book, i trust you will again let me have a few lines of friendly criticism and advice. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, june th, . i have now finished the whole of volume i., with the same interest and admiration as before; and i am convinced that my judgment was right and that it is a memorable book, the basis of all future work on the subject. i have nothing particular to say, but perhaps you would like to hear my impressions on two or three points. nothing has struck me more than the admirable and convincing manner in which you treat java. to allude to a very trifling point, it is capital about the unadorned head of the argus-pheasant. ( / . see "descent of man," edition i., pages and , for drawings of the argus pheasant and its markings. the ocelli on the wing feathers were favourite objects of mr. darwin, and sometimes formed the subject of the little lectures which on rare occasions he would give to a visitor interested in natural history. in mr. wallace's book the meaning of the ocelli comes in by the way, in the explanation of plate ix., "a malayan forest with some of its peculiar birds." mr. wallace (volume i., page ) points out that the head of the argus pheasant is, during the display of the wings, concealed from the view of a spectator in front, and this accounts for the absence of bright colour on the head--a most unusual point in a pheasant. the case is described as a "remarkable confirmation of mr. darwin's views, that gaily coloured plumes are developed in the male bird for the purpose of attractive display." for the difference of opinion between the two naturalists on the broad question of coloration see "life and letters," iii., page . see letters - .) how plain a thing is, when it is once pointed out! what a wonderful case is that of celebes: i am glad that you have slightly modified your views with respect to africa. ( / . "i think this must refer to the following passage in 'geog. dist. of animals,' volume i., pages - . 'at this period (miocene) madagascar was no doubt united with africa, and helped to form a great southern continent which must at one time have extended eastward as far as southern india and ceylon; and over the whole of this the lemurine type no doubt prevailed.' at the time this was written i had not paid so much attention to islands, and in my "island life" i have given ample reasons for my belief that the evidence of extinct animals does not require any direct connection between southern india and africa."--note by mr. wallace.) and this leads me to say that i cannot swallow the so-called continent of lemuria--i.e., the direct connection of africa and ceylon. ( / . see "geographical distribution," i., page . the name lemuria was proposed by mr. sclater for an imaginary submerged continent extending from madagascar to ceylon and sumatra. mr. wallace points out that if we confine ourselves to facts lemuria is reduced to madagascar, which he makes a subdivision of the ethiopian region.) the facts do not seem to me many and strong enough to justify so immense a change of level. moreover, mauritius and the other islands appear to me oceanic in character. but do not suppose that i place my judgment on this subject on a level with yours. a wonderfully good paper was published about a year ago on india, in the "geological journal," i think by blanford. ( / . h.f. blanford "on the age and correlations of the plant-bearing series of india and the former existence of an indo-oceanic continent" ("quart. journ. geol. soc." xxxi., , page ). the name gondwana-land was subsequently suggested by professor suess for this indo-oceanic continent. since the publication of blanford's paper, much literature has appeared dealing with the evidence furnished by fossil plants, etc., in favour of the existence of a vast southern continent.) ramsay agreed with me that it was one of the best published for a long time. the author shows that india has been a continent with enormous fresh-water lakes, from the permian period to the present day. if i remember right, he believes in a former connection with s. africa. i am sure that i read, some twenty to thirty years ago in a french journal, an account of teeth of mastodon found in timor; but the statement may have been an error. ( / . in a letter to falconer (letter ), january th, , darwin refers to the supposed occurrence of mastodon as having been "smashed" by falconer.) with respect to what you say about the colonising of new zealand, i somewhere have an account of a frog frozen in the ice of a swiss glacier, and which revived when thawed. i may add that there is an indian toad which can resist salt-water and haunts the seaside. nothing ever astonished me more than the case of the galaxias; but it does not seem known whether it may not be a migratory fish like the salmon. ( / . the only genus of the galaxidae, a family of fresh-water fishes occurring in new zealand, tasmania, and tierra del fuego, ranging north as far as queensland and chile (wallace's "geographical distribution," ii., page ).) letter . to a.r. wallace. down, june th, . i have been able to read rather more quickly of late, and have finished your book. i have not much to say. your careful account of the temperate parts of south america interested me much, and all the more from knowing something of the country. i like also much the general remarks towards the end of the volume on the land molluscs. now for a few criticisms. page . ( / . the pages refer to volume ii. of wallace's "geographical distribution.")--i am surprised at your saying that "during the whole tertiary period north america was zoologically far more strongly contrasted with south america than it is now." but we know hardly anything of the latter except during the pliocene period; and then the mastodon, horse, several great edentata, etc., etc., were common to the north and south. if you are right, i erred greatly in my "journal," where i insisted on the former close connection between the two. page and elsewhere.--i agree thoroughly with the general principle that a great area with many competing forms is necessary for much and high development; but do you not extend this principle too far--i should say much too far, considering how often several species of the same genus have been developed on very small islands? page .--you say that the sittidae extend to madagascar, but there is no number in the tabular heading. [the number ( ) was erroneously omitted.--a.r.w.] page .--rhinochetus is entered in the tabular heading under no. of the neotropical subregions. [an error: should have been the australian.--a.r.w.] reviewers think it necessary to find some fault; and if i were to review you, the sole point which i should blame is your not giving very numerous references. these would save whoever follows you great labour. occasionally i wished myself to know the authority for certain statements, and whether you or somebody else had originated certain subordinate views. take the case of a man who had collected largely on some island, for instance st. helena, and who wished to work out the geographical relations of his collections: he would, i think, feel very blank at not finding in your work precise references to all that had been written on st. helena. i hope you will not think me a confoundedly disagreeable fellow. i may mention a capital essay which i received a few months ago from axel blytt ( / . axel blytt, "essay on the immigration of the norwegian flora." christiania, . see letter .) on the distribution of the plants of scandinavia; showing the high probability of there having been secular periods alternately wet and dry, and of the important part which they have played in distribution. i wrote to forel ( / . see letter .), who is always at work on ants, and told him your views about the dispersal of the blind coleoptera, and asked him to observe. i spoke to hooker about your book, and feel sure that he would like nothing better than to consider the distribution of plants in relation to your views; but he seemed to doubt whether he should ever have time. and now i have done my jottings, and once again congratulate you on having brought out so grand a work. i have been a little disappointed at the review in "nature." ( / . june nd, , pages et seq.) letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. rosehill, dorking, july rd, . i should have replied sooner to your last kind and interesting letters, but they reached me in the midst of my packing previous to removal here, and i have only just now got my books and papers in a get-at-able state. and first, many thanks for your close observation in detecting the two absurd mistakes in the tabular headings. as to the former greater distinction of the north and south american faunas, i think i am right. the edentata being proved (as i hold) to have been mere temporary migrants into north america in the post-pliocene epoch, form no part of its tertiary fauna. yet in south america they were so enormously developed in the pliocene epoch that we know, if there is any such thing as evolution, etc., that strange ancestral forms must have preceded them in miocene times. mastodon, on the other hand, represented by one or two species only, appears to have been a late immigrant into south america from the north. the immense development of ungulates (in varied families, genera, and species) in north america during the whole tertiary epoch is, however, the great feature which assimilates it to europe, and contrasts it with south america. true camels, hosts of hog-like animals, true rhinoceroses, and hosts of ancestral horses, all bring the north american [fauna] much nearer to the old world than it is now. even the horse, represented in all south america by equus only, was probably a temporary immigrant from the north. as to extending too far the principle (yours) of the necessity of comparatively large areas for the development of varied faunas, i may have done so, but i think not. there is, i think, every probability that most islands, etc., where a varied fauna now exists, have been once more extensive--eg., new zealand, madagascar: where there is no such evidence (e.g., galapagos), the fauna is very restricted. lastly, as to want of references: i confess the justice of your criticism; but i am dreadfully unsystematic. it is my first large work involving much of the labour of others. i began with the intention of writing a comparatively short sketch, enlarged it, and added to it bit by bit; remodelled the tables, the headings, and almost everything else, more than once, and got my materials in such confusion that it is a wonder it has not turned out far more crooked and confused than it is. i, no doubt, ought to have given references; but in many cases i found the information so small and scattered, and so much had to be combined and condensed from conflicting authorities, that i hardly knew how to refer to them or where to leave off. had i referred to all authors consulted for every fact, i should have greatly increased the bulk of the book, while a large portion of the references would be valueless in a few years, owing to later and better authorities. my experience of referring to references has generally been most unsatisfactory. one finds, nine times out of ten, the fact is stated, and nothing more; or a reference to some third work not at hand! i wish i could get into the habit of giving chapter and verse for every fact and extract; but i am too lazy, and generally in a hurry, having to consult books against time, when in london for a day. however, i will try to do something to mend this matter, should i have to prepare another edition. i return you forel's letter. it does not advance the question much; neither do i think it likely that even the complete observation he thinks necessary would be of much use, because it may well be that the ova, or larvae, or imagos of the beetles are not carried systematically by the ants, but only occasionally, owing to some exceptional circumstances. this might produce a great effect in distribution, yet be so rare as never to come under observation. several of your remarks in previous letters i shall carefully consider. i know that, compared with the extent of the subject, my book is in many parts crude and ill-considered; but i thought, and still think, it better to make some generalisations wherever possible, as i am not at all afraid of having to alter my views in many points of detail. i was so overwhelmed with zoological details, that i never went through the geological society's "journal" as i ought to have done, and as i mean to do before writing more on the subject. letter . to f. buchanan white. ( / . "written in acknowledgment of a copy of a paper (published by me in the "proceedings of the zoological society") on the hemiptera of st. helena, but discussing the origin of the whole fauna and flora of that island."--f.b.w.) down, september rd. [ ]. i have now read your paper, and i hope that you will not think me presumptuous in writing another line to say how excellent it seems to me. i believe that you have largely solved the problem of the affinities of the inhabitants of this most interesting little island, and this is a delightful triumph. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, july nd [ ]. i have just read ball's essay. ( / . the late john ball's lecture "on the origin of the flora of the alps" in the "proceedings of the r. geogr. soc." . ball argues (page ) that "during ancient palaeozoic times, before the deposition of the coal-measures, the atmosphere contained twenty times as much carbonic acid gas and considerably less oxygen than it does at present." he further assumes that in such an atmosphere the percentage of co in the higher mountains would be excessively different from that at the sea-level, and appends the result of calculations which gives the amount of co at the sea-level as per , by weight, at a height of , feet as . per , . darwin understands him to mean that the vascular cryptogams and gymnosperms could stand the sea-level atmosphere, whereas the angiosperms would only be able to exist in the higher regions where the percentage of co was small. it is not clear to us that ball relies so largely on the condition of the atmosphere as regards co . if he does he is clearly in error, for everything we know of assimilation points to the conclusion that per , ( per cent.) is by no means a hurtful amount of co , and that it would lead to an especially vigorous assimilation. mountain plants would be more likely to descend to the plains to share in the rich feast than ascend to higher regions to avoid it. ball draws attention to the imperfection of our plant records as regards the floras of mountain regions. it is, he thinks, conceivable that there existed a vegetation on the carboniferous mountains of which no traces have been preserved in the rocks. see "fossil plants as tests of climate," page , a.c. seward, . since the first part of this note was written, a paper has been read (may th, ) by dr. h.t. brown and mr. f. escombe, before the royal society on "the influence of varying amounts of carbon dioxide in the air on the photosynthetic process of leaves, and on the mode of growth of plants." the author's experiments included the cultivation of several dicotyledonous plants in an atmosphere containing in one case to times the normal amount of co , and in another between three and four times the normal amount. the general results were practically identical in the two sets of experiments. "all the species of flowering plants, which have been the subject of experiment, appear to be accurately 'tuned' to an atmospheric environment of three parts of co per , , and the response which they make to slight increases in this amount are in a direction altogether unfavourable to their growth and reproduction." the assimilation of carbon increases with the increase in the partial pressure of the co . but there seems to be a disturbance in metabolism, and the plants fail to take advantage of the increased supply of co . the authors say:--"all we are justified in concluding is, that if such atmospheric variations have occurred since the advent of flowering plants, they must have taken place so slowly as never to outrun the possible adaptation of the plants to their changing conditions." prof. farmer and mr. s.e. chandler gave an account, at the same meeting of the royal society, of their work "on the influence of an excess of carbon dioxide in the air on the form and internal structure of plants." the results obtained were described as differing in a remarkable way from those previously recorded by teodoresco ("rev. gen. botanique," ii., it is hoped that dr. horace brown and mr. escombe will extend their experiments to vascular cryptogams, and thus obtain evidence bearing more directly upon the question of an increased amount of co in the atmosphere of the coal-period forests.) it is pretty bold. the rapid development as far as we can judge of all the higher plants within recent geological times is an abominable mystery. certainly it would be a great step if we could believe that the higher plants at first could live only at a high level; but until it is experimentally [proved] that cycadeae, ferns, etc., can withstand much more carbonic acid than the higher plants, the hypothesis seems to me far too rash. saporta believes that there was an astonishingly rapid development of the high plants, as soon [as] flower-frequenting insects were developed and favoured intercrossing. i should like to see this whole problem solved. i have fancied that perhaps there was during long ages a small isolated continent in the s. hemisphere which served as the birthplace of the higher plants--but this is a wretchedly poor conjecture. it is odd that ball does not allude to the obvious fact that there must have been alpine plants before the glacial period, many of which would have returned to the mountains after the glacial period, when the climate again became warm. i always accounted to myself in this manner for the gentians, etc. ball ought also to have considered the alpine insects common to the arctic regions. i do not know how it may be with you, but my faith in the glacial migration is not at all shaken. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. ( / . this letter is in reply to mr. darwin's criticisms on mr. wallace's "island life," .) pen-y-bryn, st. peter's road, croydon, november th, . many thanks for your kind remarks and notes on my book. several of the latter will be of use to me if i have to prepare a second edition, which i am not so sure of as you seem to be. . in your remark as to the doubtfulness of paucity of fossils being due to coldness of water, i think you overlook that i am speaking only of water in the latitude of the alps, in miocene and eocene times, when icebergs and glaciers temporarily descended into an otherwise warm sea; my theory being that there was no glacial epoch at that time, but merely a local and temporary descent of the snow-line and glaciers owing to high excentricity and winter in aphelion. . i cannot see the difficulty about the cessation of the glacial period. between the miocene and the pleistocene periods geographical changes occurred which rendered a true glacial period possible with high excentricity. when the high excentricity passed away the glacial epoch also passed away in the temperate zone; but it persists in the arctic zone, where, during the miocene, there were mild climates, and this is due to the persistence of the changed geographical conditions. the present arctic climate is itself a comparatively new and abnormal state of things, due to geographical modification. as to "epoch" and "period," i use them as synonyms to avoid repeating the same word. . rate of deposition and geological time. here no doubt i may have gone to an extreme, but my " million years" may be anything under millions, as i state. there is an enormous difference between mean and maximum denudation and deposition. in the case of the great faults the upheaval along a given line would itself facilitate the denudation (whether sub-aerial or marine) of the upheaved portion at a rate perhaps a hundred times above the average, just as valleys have been denuded perhaps a hundred times faster than plains and plateaux. so local subsidence might itself lead to very rapid deposition. suppose a portion of the gulf of mexico, near the mouths of the mississippi, were to subside for a few thousand years, it might receive the greater portion of the sediment from the whole mississippi valley, and thus form strata at a very rapid rate. . you quote the pampas thistles, etc., against my statement of the importance of preoccupation. but i am referring especially to st. helena, and to plants naturally introduced from the adjacent continents. surely if a certain number of african plants reached the island, and became modified into a complete adaptation to its climatic conditions, they would hardly be expelled by other african plants arriving subsequently. they might be so, conceivably, but it does not seem probable. the cases of the pampas, new zealand, tahiti, etc., are very different, where highly developed aggressive plants have been artificially introduced. under nature it is these very aggressive species that would first reach any island in their vicinity, and, being adapted to the island and colonising it thoroughly, would then hold their own against other plants from the same country, mostly less aggressive in character. i have not explained this so fully as i should have done in the book. your criticism is therefore useful. . my chapter xxiii. is no doubt very speculative, and i cannot wonder at your hesitating at accepting my views. to me, however, your theory of hosts of existing species migrating over the tropical lowlands from the n. temperate to the s. temperate zone appears more speculative and more improbable. for where could the rich lowland equatorial flora have existed during a period of general refrigeration sufficient for this? and what became of the wonderfully rich cape flora, which, if the temperature of tropical africa had been so recently lowered, would certainly have spread northwards, and on the return of the heat could hardly have been driven back into the sharply defined and very restricted area in which it now exists. as to the migration of plants from mountain to mountain not being so probable as to remote islands, i think that is fully counterbalanced by two considerations:-- a. the area and abundance of the mountain stations along such a range as the andes are immensely greater than those of the islands in the n. atlantic, for example. b. the temporary occupation of mountain stations by migrating plants (which i think i have shown to be probable) renders time a much more important element in increasing the number and variety of the plants so dispersed than in the case of islands, where the flora soon acquires a fixed and endemic character, and where the number of species is necessarily limited. no doubt direct evidence of seeds being carried great distances through the air is wanted, but i am afraid can hardly be obtained. yet i feel the greatest confidence that they are so carried. take, for instance, the two peculiar orchids of the azores (habenaria sp.) what other mode of transit is conceivable? the whole subject is one of great difficulty, but i hope my chapter may call attention to a hitherto neglected factor in the distribution of plants. your references to the mauritius literature are very interesting, and will be useful to me; and i again thank you for your valuable remarks. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letters were written to sir j.d. hooker when he was preparing his address as president of the geographical section of the british association at its fiftieth meeting, at york. the second letter (august th) refers to an earlier letter of august th, published in "life and letters," iii., page .) , bryanston street, w., saturday, th [february, ]. i should think that you might make a very interesting address on geographical distribution. could you give a little history of the subject. i, for one, should like to read such history in petto; but i can see one very great difficulty--that you yourself ought to figure most prominently in it; and this you would not do, for you are just the man to treat yourself in a dishonourable manner. i should very much like to see you discuss some of wallace's views, especially his ignoring the all-powerful effects of the glacial period with respect to alpine plants. ( / . "having been kindly permitted by mr. francis darwin to read this letter, i wish to explain that the above statement applies only to my rejection of darwin's view that the presence of arctic and north temperate plants in the southern hemisphere was brought about by the lowering of the temperature of the tropical regions during the glacial period, so that even 'the lowlands of these great continents were everywhere tenanted under the equator by a considerable number of temperate forms ("origin of species," edition vi., page ). my own views are fully explained in chapter xxiii. of my "island life," published in . i quite accept all that darwin, hooker, and asa gray have written about the effect of the glacial epoch in bringing about the present distribution of alpine and arctic plants in the northern hemisphere."--note by mr. wallace.) i do not know what you think, but it appears to me that he exaggerates enormously the influence of debacles or slips and new surface of soil being exposed for the reception of wind-blown seeds. what kinds of seeds have the plants which are common to the distant mountain-summits in africa? wallace lately wrote to me about the mountain plants of madagascar being the same with those on mountains in africa, and seemed to think it proved dispersal by the wind, without apparently having inquired what sorts of seeds the plants bore. ( / . the affinity with the flora of the eastern african islands was long ago pointed out by sir j.d. hooker, "linn. soc. journal," vi., , page . speaking of the plants of clarence peak in fernando po, he says, "the next affinity is with mauritius, bourbon, and madagascar: of the whole species, inhabit these places and more are closely allied to plants from there. three temperate species are peculiar to clarence peak and the east african islands..." the facts to which mr. wallace called darwin's attention are given by mr. j.g. baker in "nature," december th, , page . he mentions the madagascar viola, which occurs elsewhere only at , feet in the cameroons, at , feet in fernando po and in the abyssinian mountains; and the same thing is true of the madagascar geranium. in mr. wallace's letter to darwin, dated january st, , he evidently uses the expression "passing through the air" in contradistinction to the migration of a species by gradual extension of its area on land. "through the air" would moreover include occasional modes of transport other than simple carriage by wind: e.g., the seeds might be carried by birds, either attached to the feathers or to the mud on their feet, or in their crops or intestines.) i suppose it would be travelling too far (though for the geographical section the discussion ought to be far-reaching), but i should like to see the european or northern element in the cape of good hope flora discussed. i cannot swallow wallace's view that european plants travelled down the andes, tenanted the hypothetical antarctic continent (in which i quite believe), and thence spread to south australia and the cape of good hope. moseley told me not long ago that he proposed to search at kerguelen land the coal beds most carefully, and was absolutely forbidden to do so by sir w. thomson, who said that he would undertake the work, and he never once visited them. this puts me in a passion. i hope that you will keep to your intention and make an address on distribution. though i differ so much from wallace, his "island life" seems to me a wonderful book. farewell. i do hope that you may have a most prosperous journey. give my kindest remembrances to asa gray. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august th, . ...i think that i must have expressed myself badly about humboldt. i should have said that he was more remarkable for his astounding knowledge than for originality. i have always looked at him as, in fact, the founder of the geographical distribution of organisms. i thought that i had read that extinct fossil plants belonging to australian forms had lately been found in australia, and all such cases seem to me very interesting, as bearing on development. i have been so astonished at the apparently sudden coming in of the higher phanerogams, that i have sometimes fancied that development might have slowly gone on for an immense period in some isolated continent or large island, perhaps near the south pole. i poured out my idle thoughts in writing, as if i had been talking with you. no fact has so interested me for a heap of years as your case of the plants on the equatorial mountains of africa; and wallace tells me that some one (baker?) has described analogous cases on the mountains of madagascar ( / . see letter , note.)...i think that you ought to allude to these cases. i most fully agree that no problem is more interesting than that of the temperate forms in the southern hemisphere, common to the north. i remember writing about this after wallace's book appeared, and hoping that you would take it up. the frequency with which the drainage from the land passes through mountain-chains seems to indicate some general law--viz., the successive formation of cracks and lines of elevation between the nearest ocean and the already upraised land; but that is too big a subject for a note. i doubt whether any insects can be shown with any probability to have been flower feeders before the middle of the secondary period. several of the asserted cases have broken down. your long letter has stirred many pleasant memories of long past days, when we had many a discussion and many a good fight. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august st, . i cannot aid you much, or at all. i should think that no one could have thought on the modification of species without thinking of representative species. but i feel sure that no discussion of any importance had been published on this subject before the "origin," for if i had known of it i should assuredly have alluded to it in the "origin," as i wished to gain support from all quarters. i did not then know of von buch's view (alluded to in my historical introduction in all the later editions). von buch published his "isles canaries" in , and he here briefly argues that plants spread over a continent and vary, and the varieties in time come to be species. he also argues that closely allied species have been thus formed in the separate valleys of the canary islands, but not on the upper and open parts. i could lend you von buch's book, if you like. i have just consulted the passage. i have not baer's papers; but, as far as i remember, the subject is not fully discussed by him. i quite agree about wallace's position on the ocean and continent question. to return to geographical distribution: as far as i know, no one ever discussed the meaning of the relation between representative species before i did, and, as i suppose, wallace did in his paper before the linnean society. von buch's is the nearest approach to such discussion known to me. letter . to w.d. crick. ( / . the following letters are interesting not only for their own sake, but because they tell the history of the last of mr. darwin's publications--his letter to "nature" on the "dispersal of freshwater bivalves," april th, .) down, february st, . your fact is an interesting one, and i am very much obliged to you for communicating it to me. you speak a little doubtfully about the name of the shell, and it would be indispensable to have this ascertained with certainty. do you know any good conchologist in northampton who could name it? if so i should be obliged if you would inform me of the result. also the length and breadth of the shell, and how much of leg (which leg?) of the dytiscus [a large water-beetle] has been caught. if you cannot get the shell named i could take it to the british museum when i next go to london; but this probably will not occur for about six weeks, and you may object to lend the specimen for so long a time. i am inclined to think that the case would be worth communicating to "nature." p.s.--i suppose that the animal in the shell must have been alive when the dytiscus was captured, otherwise the adductor muscle of the shell would have relaxed and the shell dropped off. letter . to w.d. crick. down, february th, . i am much obliged for your clear and distinct answers to my questions. i am sorry to trouble you, but there is one point which i do not fully understand. did the shell remain attached to the beetle's leg from the th to the rd, and was the beetle kept during this time in the air? do i understand rightly that after the shell had dropped off, both being in water, that the beetle's antenna was again temporarily caught by the shell? i presume that i may keep the specimen till i go to london, which will be about the middle of next month. i have placed the shell in fresh-water, to see if the valve will open, and whether it is still alive, for this seems to me a very interesting point. as the wretched beetle was still feebly alive, i have put it in a bottle with chopped laurel leaves, that it may die an easy and quicker death. i hope that i shall meet with your approval in doing so. one of my sons tells me that on the coast of n. wales the bare fishing hooks often bring up young mussels which have seized hold of the points; but i must make further enquiries on this head. letter . to w.d. crick. down, march rd, . i have had a most unfortunate and extraordinary accident with your shell. i sent it by post in a strong box to mr. gwyn jeffreys to be named, and heard two days afterwards that he had started for italy. i then wrote to the servant in charge of his house to open the parcel (within which was a cover stamped and directed to myself) and return it to me. this servant, i suppose, opened the box and dropped the glass tube on a stone floor, and perhaps put his foot on it, for the tube and shell were broken into quite small fragments. these were returned to me with no explanation, the box being quite uninjured. i suppose you would not care for the fragments to be returned or the dytiscus; but if you wish for them they shall be returned. i am very sorry, but it has not been my fault. it seems to me almost useless to send the fragments of the shell to the british museum to be named, more especially as the umbo has been lost. it is many years since i have looked at a fresh-water shell, but i should have said that the shell was cyclas cornea. ( / . it was cyclas cornea.) is sphaenium corneum a synonym of cyclas? perhaps you could tell by looking to mr. g. jeffreys' book. if so, may we venture to call it so, or shall i put an (?) to the name? as soon as i hear from you i will send my letter to "nature." do you take in "nature," or shall i send you a copy? chapter .viii.--man. i. descent of man.--ii. sexual selection.--iii. expression of the emotions. .viii.i. descent of man, - . letter . to c. lyell. down, april th [ ]. i cannot explain why, but to me it would be an infinite satisfaction to believe that mankind will progress to such a pitch that we should [look] back at [ourselves] as mere barbarians. i have received proof-sheets (with a wonderfully nice letter) of very hostile review by andrew murray, read before the royal society of edinburgh. ( / . "on mr. darwin's theory of the origin of species," by andrew murray. "proc. roy. soc., edinb." volume iv., pages - , . the review concludes with the following sentence: "i have come to be of opinion that mr. darwin's theory is unsound, and that i am to be spared any collision between my inclination and my convictions" (referring to the writer's belief in design).) but i am tired with answering it. indeed i have done nothing the whole day but answer letters. letter . to l. horner. ( / . the following letter occurs in the "memoir of leonard horner, edited by his daughter katherine m. lyell," volume ii., page (privately printed, ).) down, march th [ ]. i am very much obliged for your address ( / . mr. horner's anniversary address to the geological society ("proc. geol. soc." xvii., ).) which has interested me much...i thought that i had read up pretty well on the antiquity of man; but you bring all the facts so well together in a condensed focus, that the case seems much clearer to me. how curious about the bible! ( / . at page lxviii. mr. horner points out that the "chronology, given in the margin of our bibles," i.e., the statement that the world was created b.c., is the work of archbishop usher, and is in no way binding on those who believe in the inspiration of scripture. mr. horner goes on (page lxx): "the retention of the marginal note in question is by no means a matter of indifference; it is untrue, and therefore it is mischievous." it is interesting that archbishop sumner and dr. dawes, dean of hereford, wrote with approbation of mr. horner's views on man. the archbishop says: "i have always considered the first verse of genesis as indicating, rather than denying, a preadamite world" ("memoir of leonard horner, ii.", page ).) i declare i had fancied that the date was somehow in the bible. you are coming out in a new light as a biblical critic. i must thank you for some remarks on the "origin of species" ( / . mr. horner (page xxxix) begins by disclaiming the qualifications of a competent critic, and confines himself to general remarks on the philosophic candour and freedom from dogmatism of the "origin": he does, however, give an opinion on the geological chapters ix. and x. as a general criticism he quotes mr. huxley's article in the "westminster review," which may now be read in "collected essays," ii., page .) (though i suppose it is almost as incorrect to do so as to thank a judge for a favourable verdict): what you have said has pleased me extremely. i am the more pleased, as i would rather have been well attacked than have been handled in the namby-pamby, old-woman style of the cautious oxford professor. ( / . this no doubt refers to professor phillips' "life on the earth," , a book founded on the author's "rede lecture," given before the university of cambridge. reference to this work will be found in "life and letters," ii., pages , , .) letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . mr. wallace was, we believe, the first to treat the evolution of man in any detail from the point of view of natural selection, namely, in a paper in the "anthropological review and journal of the anthropological society," may , page clviii. the deep interest with which mr. darwin read his copy is graphically recorded in the continuous series of pencil-marks along the margins of the pages. his views are fully given in letter . the phrase, "in this case it is too far," refers to mr. wallace's habit of speaking of the theory of natural selection as due entirely to darwin.) may nd . i have now read wallace's paper on man, and think it most striking and original and forcible. i wish he had written lyell's chapters on man. ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page et seq. for darwin's disappointment over lyell's treatment of the evolutionary question in his "antiquity of man"; see also page for lyell's almost pathetic words about his own position between the discarded faith of many years and the new one not yet assimilated. see also letters , , .) i quite agree about his high-mindedness, and have long thought so; but in this case it is too far, and i shall tell him so. i am not sure that i fully agree with his views about man, but there is no doubt, in my opinion, on the remarkable genius shown by the paper. i agree, however, to the main new leading idea. letter . to a.r. wallace. ( / . this letter was published in "life and letters," iii., page .) down, [may] th [ ]. i am so much better that i have just finished a paper for the linnean society ( / . on the three forms, etc., of lythrum.); but i am not yet at all strong, i felt much disinclination to write, and therefore you must forgive me for not having sooner thanked you for your paper on man ( / . "anthropological review," may .) received on the th. ( / . mr. wallace wrote, may th, : "i send you now my little contribution to the theory of the origin of man. i hope you will be able to agree with me. if you are able [to write] i shall be glad to have your criticisms. i was led to the subject by the necessity of explaining the vast mental and cranial differences between man and the apes combined with such small structural differences in other parts of the body,--and also by an endeavour to account for the diversity of human races combined with man's almost perfect stability of form during all historical epochs." but first let me say that i have hardly ever in my life been more struck by any paper than that on "variation," etc., etc., in the "reader." ( / . "reader," april th, , an abstract of mr. wallace: "on the phenomena of variation and geographical distribution as illustrated by the papilionidae of the malayan region." "linn. soc. trans." xxv.) i feel sure that such papers will do more for the spreading of our views on the modification of species than any separate treatises on the simple subject itself. it is really admirable; but you ought not in the man paper to speak of the theory as mine; it is just as much yours as mine. one correspondent has already noticed to me your "high-minded" conduct on this head. but now for your man paper, about which i should like to write more than i can. the great leading idea is quite new to me--viz. that during late ages the mind will have been modified more than the body; yet i had got as far as to see with you, that the struggle between the races of man depended entirely on intellectual and moral qualities. the latter part of the paper i can designate only as grand and most eloquently done. i have shown your paper to two or three persons who have been here, and they have been equally struck with it. i am not sure that i go with you on all minor points: when reading sir g. grey's account of the constant battles of australian savages, i remember thinking that natural selection would come in, and likewise with the esquimaux, with whom the art of fishing and managing canoes is said to be hereditary. i rather differ on the rank, under a classificatory point of view, which you assign to man; i do not think any character simply in excess ought ever to be used for the higher divisions. ants would not be separated from other hymenopterous insects, however high the instinct of the one, and however low the instincts of the other. with respect to the differences of race, a conjecture has occurred to me that much may be due to the correlation of complexion (and consequently hair) with constitution. assume that a dusky individual best escaped miasma, and you will readily see what i mean. i persuaded the director-general of the medical department of the army to send printed forms to the surgeons of all regiments in tropical countries to ascertain this point, but i daresay i shall never get any returns. secondly, i suspect that a sort of sexual selection has been the most powerful means of changing the races of man. i can show that the different races have a widely different standard of beauty. among savages the most powerful men will have the pick of the women, and they will generally leave the most descendants. i have collected a few notes on man, but i do not suppose i shall ever use them. do you intend to follow out your views? and if so, would you like at some future time to have my few references and notes? i am sure i hardly know whether they are of any value, and they are at present in a state of chaos. there is much more that i should like to write, but i have not strength. p.s. our aristocracy is handsomer (more hideous according to a chinese or negro) than the middle classes, from [having the] pick of the women; but oh, what a scheme is primogeniture for destroying natural selection! i fear my letter will be barely intelligible to you. letter * a.r. wallace to charles darwin. , westbourne grove terrace, w., may th [ ]. you are always so ready to appreciate what others do, and especially to overestimate my desultory efforts, that i cannot be surprised at your very kind and flattering remarks on my papers. i am glad, however, that you have made a few critical observations (and am only sorry that you were not well enough to make more), as that enables me to say a few words in explanation. my great fault is haste. an idea strikes me, i think over it for a few days, and then write away with such illustrations as occur to me while going on. i therefore look at the subject almost solely from one point of view. thus, in my paper on man ( */ . published in the "anthropological review," .), i aim solely at showing that brutes are modified in a great variety of ways by natural selection, but that in none of these particular ways can man be modified, because of the superiority of his intellect. i therefore no doubt overlook a few smaller points in which natural selection may still act on men and brutes alike. colour is one of them, and i have alluded to this in correlation to constitution, in an abstract i have made at sclater's request for the "natural history review." ( */ . "nat. hist. review," , page .) at the same time, there is so much evidence of migrations and displacements of races of man, and so many cases of peoples of distinct physical characters inhabiting the same or similar regions, and also of races of uniform physical characters inhabiting widely dissimilar regions,--that the external characteristics of the chief races of man must, i think, be older than his present geographical distribution, and the modifications produced by correlation to favourable variations of constitution be only a secondary cause of external modification. i hope you may get the returns from the army. ( */ . measurements taken of more than one million soldiers in the united states showed that "local influences of some kind act directly on structure."--"descent of man," , page .) they would be very interesting, but i do not expect the results would be favourable to your view. with regard to the constant battles of savages leading to selection of physical superiority, i think it would be very imperfect and subject to so many exceptions and irregularities that it would produce no definite result. for instance: the strongest and bravest men would lead, and expose themselves most, and would therefore be most subject to wounds and death. and the physical energy which led to any one tribe delighting in war, might lead to its extermination, by inducing quarrels with all surrounding tribes and leading them to combine against it. again, superior cunning, stealth, and swiftness of foot, or even better weapons, would often lead to victory as well as mere physical strength. moreover, this kind of more or less perpetual war goes on amongst savage peoples. it could lead, therefore, to no differential characters, but merely to the keeping up of a certain average standard of bodily and mental health and vigour. so with selection of variations adapted to special habits of life as fishing, paddling, riding, climbing, etc., etc., in different races, no doubt it must act to some extent, but will it be ever so rigid as to induce a definite physical modification, and can we imagine it to have had any part in producing the distinct races that now exist? the sexual selection you allude to will also, i think, have been equally uncertain in its results. in the very lowest tribes there is rarely much polygamy, and women are more or less a matter of purchase. there is also little difference of social condition, and i think it rarely happens that any healthy and undeformed man remains without wife and children. i very much doubt the often-repeated assertion that our aristocracy are more beautiful than the middle classes. i allow that they present specimens of the highest kind of beauty, but i doubt the average. i have noticed in country places a greater average amount of good looks among the middle classes, and besides we unavoidably combine in our idea of beauty, intellectual expression, and refinement of manner, which often makes the less appear the more beautiful. mere physical beauty--i.e. a healthy and regular development of the body and features approaching to the mean and type of european man, i believe is quite as frequent in one class of society as the other, and much more frequent in rural districts than in cities. with regard to the rank of man in zoological classification, i fear i have not made myself intelligible. i never meant to adopt owen's or any other such views, but only to point out that from one point of view he was right. i hold that a distinct family for man, as huxley allows, is all that can possibly be given him zoologically. but at the same time, if my theory is true, that while the animals which surrounded him have been undergoing modification in all parts of their bodies to a generic or even family degree of difference, he has been changing almost wholly in the brain and head--then in geological antiquity the species man may be as old as many mammalian families, and the origin of the family man may date back to a period when some of the orders first originated. as to the theory of natural selection itself, i shall always maintain it to be actually yours and yours only. you had worked it out in details i had never thought of, years before i had a ray of light on the subject, and my paper would never have convinced anybody or been noticed as more than an ingenious speculation, whereas your book has revolutionised the study of natural history, and carried away captive the best men of the present age. all the merit i claim is the having been the means of inducing you to write and publish at once. i may possibly some day go a little more into this subject (of man), and if i do will accept the kind offer of your notes. i am now, however, beginning to write the "narrative of my travels," which will occupy me a long time, as i hate writing narrative, and after bates' brilliant success rather fear to fail. i shall introduce a few chapters on geographical distribution and other such topics. sir c. lyell, while agreeing with my main argument on man, thinks i am wrong in wanting to put him back into miocene times, and thinks i do not appreciate the immense interval even to the later pliocene. but i still maintain my view, which in fact is a logical result of my theory; for if man originated in later pliocene, when almost all mammalia were of closely allied species to those now living, and many even identical, then man has not been stationary in bodily structure while animals have been varying, and my theory will be proved to be all wrong. in murchison's address to the geographical society, just delivered, he points out africa as being the oldest existing land. he says there is no evidence of its having been ever submerged during the tertiary epoch. here then is evidently the place to find early man. i hope something good may be found in borneo, and that the means may be found to explore the still more promising regions of tropical africa, for we can expect nothing of man very early in europe. it has given me great pleasure to find that there are symptoms of improvement in your health. i hope you will not exert yourself too soon or write more than is quite agreeable to you. i think i made out every word of your letter, though it was not always easy. ( */ . for wallace's later views see letter , note.) letter . to w. turner. ( / . sir william turner is frequently referred to in the "descent of man" as having supplied mr. darwin with information.) down, december th [ ]. your kindness when i met you at the royal society makes me think that you would grant me the favour of a little information, if in your power. i am preparing a book on domestic animals, and as there has been so much discussion on the bearing of such views as i hold on man, i have some thoughts of adding a chapter on this subject. the point on which i want information is in regard to any part which may be fairly called rudimentary in comparison with the same part in the quadrumana or any other mammal. now the os coccyx is rudimentary as a tail, and i am anxious to hear about its muscles. mr. flower found for me in some work that its one muscle (with striae) was supposed only to bring this bone back to its proper position after parturition. this seems to me hardly credible. he said he had never particularly examined this part, and when i mentioned your name, he said you were the most likely man to give me information. are there any traces of other muscles? it seems strange if there are none. do you know how the muscles are in this part in the anthropoid apes? the muscles of the ear in man may, i suppose, in most cases be considered as rudimentary; and so they seem to be in the anthropoids; at least, i am assured in the zoological gardens they do not erect their ears. i gather there are a good many muscles in various parts of the body which are in this same state: could you specify any of the best cases? the mammae in man are rudimentary. are there any other glands or other organs which you can think of? i know i have no right whatever to ask all these questions, and can only say that i should be grateful for any information. if you tell me anything about the os coccyx or other structures, i hope that you will permit me to quote the statement on your authority, as that would add so greatly to its value. pray excuse me for troubling you, and do not hurry yourself in the least in answering me. i do not know whether you would care to possess a copy, but i told my publisher to send you a copy of the new edition of the "origin" last month. letter . to w. turner. down, february st [ ]. i thank you cordially for all your full information, and i regret much that i have given you such great trouble at a period when your time is so much occupied. but the facts were so valuable to me that i cannot pretend that i am sorry that i did trouble you; and i am the less so, as from what you say i hope you may be induced some time to write a full account of all rudimentary structures in man: it would be a very curious and interesting memoir. i shall at present give only a brief abstract of the chief facts which you have so very kindly communicated to me, and will not touch on some of the doubtful points. i have received far more information than i ventured to anticipate. there is one point which has occurred to me, but i suspect there is nothing in it. if, however, there should be, perhaps you will let me have a brief note from you, and if i do not hear i will understand there is nothing in the notion. i have included the down on the human body and the lanugo on the foetus as a rudimentary representation of a hairy coat. ( / . "descent of man" i., page ; ii., page .) i do not know whether there is any direct functional connection between the presence of hair and the panniculus carnosus ( / . professor macalister draws our attention to the fact that mr. darwin uses the term panniculus in the generalised sense of any sheet of muscle acting on the skin.) (to put the question under another point of view, is it the primary or aboriginal function of the panniculus to move the dermal appendages or the skin itself?); but both are superficial, and would perhaps together become rudimentary. i was led to think of this by the places (as far as my ignorance of anatomy has allowed me to judge) of the rudimentary muscular fasciculi which you specify. now, some persons can move the skin of their hairy heads; and is this not effected by the panniculus? how is it with the eyebrows? you specify the axillae and the front region of the chest and lower part of scapulae: now, these are all hairy spots in man. on the other hand, the neck, and as i suppose the covering of the gluteus medius, are not hairy; so, as i said, i presume there is nothing in this notion. if there were, the rudiments of the panniculus ought perhaps to occur more plainly in man than in woman... p.s.--if the skin on the head is moved by the panniculus, i think i ought just to allude to it, as some men alone having power to move the skin shows that the apparatus is generally rudimentary. ( / . in march darwin wrote to mr. wallace: "i shall be intensely curious to read the "quarterly." i hope you have not murdered too completely your own and my child." the reference is to mr. wallace's review, in the april number of the "quarterly," of lyell's "principles of geology" (tenth edition), and of the sixth edition of the "elements of geology." mr. wallace points out that here for the first time sir c. lyell gave up his opposition to evolution; and this leads mr. wallace to give a short account of the views set forth in the "origin of species." in this article mr. wallace makes a definite statement as to his views on the evolution of man, which were opposed to those of mr. darwin. he upholds the view that the brain of man, as well as the organs of speech, the hand and the external form, could not have been evolved by natural selection (the child he is supposed to murder). at page he writes: "in the brain of the lowest savages, and, as far as we know, of the prehistoric races, we have an organ...little inferior in size and complexity to that of the highest types...but the mental requirements of the lowest savages, such as the australians or the andaman islanders, are very little above those of many animals...how, then, was an organ developed so far beyond the needs of its possessor? natural selection could only have endowed the savage with a brain a little superior to that of an ape, whereas he actually possesses one but very little inferior to that of the average members of our learned societies." this passage is marked in mr. darwin's copy with a triply underlined "no," and with a shower of notes of exclamation. it was probably the first occasion on which he realised the extent of this great and striking divergence in opinion between himself and his colleague. he had, however, some indication of it in wallace's paper on man, "anthropological review," . (see letter ). he wrote to lyell, may th, , "i was dreadfully disappointed about man; it seems to me incredibly strange." and to mr. wallace, april th, , "if you had not told me, i should have thought that [your remarks on man] had been added by some one else. as you expected, i differ grievously from you, and i am very sorry for it." letter . to t.h. huxley. down, thursday, february st [ - ?]. i received the jermyn street programme, but have hardly yet considered it, for i was all day on the sofa on tuesday and wednesday. bad though i was, i thought with constant pleasure of your very great kindness in offering to read the proofs of my essay on man. i do not know whether i said anything which might have appeared like a hint, but i assure you that such a thought had never even momentarily passed through my mind. your offer has just made all the difference, that i can now write, whether or no my essay is ever printed, with a feeling of satisfaction instead of vague dread. beg my colleague, mrs. huxley, not to forget the corrugator supercilii: it will not be easy to catch the exact moment when the child is on the point of crying, and is struggling against the wrinkling up [of] its little eyes; for then i should expect the corrugator, from being little under the command of the will, would come into play in checking or stopping the wrinkling. an explosion of tears would tell nothing. letter . to francis galton. down, december rd [ ?]. i have only read about fifty pages of your book (to the judges) ( / . "hereditary genius: an inquiry into its laws and consequences," by francis galton, london, . "the judges of england between and " is the heading of a section of this work (page ). see "descent of man" ( ), page .), but i must exhale myself, else something will go wrong in my inside. i do not think i ever in all my life read anything more interesting and original. and how well and clearly you put every point! george, who has finished the book, and who expressed himself just in the same terms, tells me the earlier chapters are nothing in interest to the later ones! it will take me some time to get to these later chapters, as it is read aloud to me by my wife, who is also much interested. you have made a convert of an opponent in one sense, for i have always maintained that, excepting fools, men did not differ much in intellect, only in zeal and hard work; and i still think [this] is an eminently important difference. i congratulate you on producing what i am convinced will prove a memorable work. i look forward with intense interest to each reading, but it sets me thinking so much that i find it very hard work; but that is wholly the fault of my brain, and not of your beautifully clear style. letter . to w.r. greg. march st [ ?]. many thanks for your note. i am very glad indeed to read remarks made by a man who possesses such varied and odd knowledge as you do, and who is so acute a reasoner. i have no doubt that you will detect blunders of many kinds in my book. ( / . "the descent of man.") your ms. on the proportion of the sexes at birth seems to me extremely curious, and i hope that some day you will publish it. it certainly appears that the males are decreasing in the london districts, and a most strange fact it is. mr. graham, however, i observe in a note enclosed, does not seem inclined to admit your conclusion. i have never much considered the subject of the causes of the proportion. when i reflected on queen bees producing only males when not impregnated, whilst some other parthenogenetic insects produced, as far as known, only females, the subject seemed to me hopelessly obscure. it is, however, pretty clear that you have taken the one path for its solution. i wished only to ascertain how far with various animals the males exceeded the females, and i have given all the facts which i could collect. as far as i know, no other data have been published. the equality of the sexes with race-horses is surprising. my remarks on mankind are quite superficial, and given merely as some sort of standard for comparison with the lower animals. m. thury is the writer who makes the sex depend on the period of impregnation. his pamphlet was sent me from geneva. ( / . "memoire sur la loi de production des sexes," nd edition, (a pamphlet published by cherbuliez, geneva).) i can lend it you if you like. i subsequently read an account of experiments which convinced me that m. thury was in error; but i cannot remember what they were, only the impression that i might safely banish this view from my mind. your remarks on the less ratio of males in illegitimate births strikes me as the most doubtful point in your ms.--requiring two assumptions, viz. that the fathers in such cases are relatively too young, and that the result is the same as when the father is relatively too old. my son, george, who is a mathematician, and who read your ms. with much interest, has suggested, as telling in the right direction, but whether sufficient is another question, that many more illegitimate children are murdered and concealed shortly after birth, than in the case of legitimate children; and as many more males than females die during the first few days of life, the census of illegitimate children practically applies to an older age than with legitimate children, and would thus slightly reduce the excess of males. this might possibly be worth consideration. by a strange coincidence a stranger writes to me this day, making the very same suggestion. i am quite delighted to hear that my book interests you enough to lead you to read it with some care. letter . to francis galton. down, january th, . very many thanks for "fraser" ( / . "hereditary improvement," by francis galton, "fraser's magazine," january , page .): i have been greatly interested by your article. the idea of castes being spontaneously formed and leading to intermarriage ( / . "my object is to build up, by the mere process of extensive enquiry and publication of results, a sentiment of caste among those who are naturally gifted, and to procure for them, before the system has fairly taken root, such moderate social favours and preference, no more no less, as would seem reasonable to those who were justly informed of the precise measure of their importance to the nation" (loc. cit., page ).) is quite new to me, and i should suppose to others. i am not, however, so hopeful as you. your proposed society ( / . mr. galton proposes that "some society should undertake three scientific services: the first, by means of a moderate number of influential local agencies, to institute continuous enquiries into the facts of human heredity; the second to be a centre of information on heredity for breeders of animals and plants; and the third to discuss and classify the facts that were collected" (loc. cit., page ).) would have awfully laborious work, and i doubt whether you could ever get efficient workers. as it is, there is much concealment of insanity and wickedness in families; and there would be more if there was a register. but the greatest difficulty, i think, would be in deciding who deserved to be on the register. how few are above mediocrity in health, strength, morals and intellect; and how difficult to judge on these latter heads. as far as i see, within the same large superior family, only a few of the children would deserve to be on the register; and these would naturally stick to their own families, so that the superior children of distinct families would have no good chance of associating much and forming a caste. though i see so much difficulty, the object seems a grand one; and you have pointed out the sole feasible, yet i fear utopian, plan of procedure in improving the human race. i should be inclined to trust more (and this is part of your plan) to disseminating and insisting on the importance of the all-important principle of inheritance. i will make one or two minor criticisms. is it not possible that the inhabitants of malarious countries owe their degraded and miserable appearance to the bad atmosphere, though this does not kill them, rather than to "economy of structure"? i do not see that an orthognathous face would cost more than a prognathous face; or a good morale than a bad one. that is a fine simile (page ) about the chip of a statue ( / . "...the life of the individual is treated as of absolutely no importance, while the race is as everything; nature being wholly careless of the former except as a contributor to the maintenance and evolution of the latter. myriads of inchoate lives are produced in what, to our best judgment, seems a wasteful and reckless manner, in order that a few selected specimens may survive, and be the parents of the next generation. it is as though individual lives were of no more consideration than are the senseless chips which fall from the chisel of the artist who is elaborating some ideal form from a rude block" (loc. cit., page ).); but surely nature does not more carefully regard races than individuals, as (i believe i have misunderstood what you mean) evidenced by the multitude of races and species which have become extinct. would it not be truer to say that nature cares only for the superior individuals and then makes her new and better races? but we ought both to shudder in using so freely the word "nature" ( / . see letter , volume i.) after what de candolle has said. again let me thank you for the interest received in reading your essay. many thanks about the rabbits; your letter has been sent to balfour: he is a very clever young man, and i believe owes his cleverness to salisbury blood. this letter will not be worth your deciphering. i have almost finished greg's "enigmas." ( / . "the enigmas of life," .) it is grand poetry--but too utopian and too full of faith for me; so that i have been rather disappointed. what do you think about it? he must be a delightful man. i doubt whether you have made clear how the families on the register are to be kept pure or superior, and how they are to be in course of time still further improved. letter . to max muller. down, july rd, . ( / . in june, , professor max muller sent to mr. darwin a copy of the sixth edition of his "lectures on the science of language" ( / . a reference to the first edition occurs in "life and letters," ii., page .), with a letter concluding with these words: "i venture to send you my three lectures, trusting that, though i differ from some of your conclusions, you will believe me to be one of your diligent readers and sincere admirers.") i am much obliged for your kind note and present of your lectures. i am extremely glad to have received them from you, and i had intended ordering them. i feel quite sure from what i have read in your works that you would never say anything of an honest adversary to which he would have any just right to object; and as for myself, you have often spoken highly of me--perhaps more highly than i deserve. as far as language is concerned i am not worthy to be your adversary, as i know extremely little about it, and that little learnt from very few books. i should have been glad to have avoided the whole subject, but was compelled to take it up as well as i could. he who is fully convinced, as i am, that man is descended from some lower animal, is almost forced to believe a priori that articulate language has been developed from inarticulate cries ( / . "descent of man" ( ), page .); and he is therefore hardly a fair judge of the arguments opposed to this belief. ( / . in october, , mr. darwin again wrote cordially to professor max muller on receipt of a pamphlet entitled "in self-defence" ( / . printed in "chips from a german workshop," volume iv., , page .), which is a reply to professor whitney's "darwinism and language" in the "north american review," july . this essay had been brought before the "general reader" in england by an article of mr. g. darwin's in the "contemporary review," november, , page , entitled, "professor whitney on the origin of language." the article was followed by "my reply to mr. darwin," contributed by professor muller to the "contemporary review," january, , page .) letter . g. rolleston to charles darwin. british association, bristol, august th, . ( / . in the first edition of the "descent of man" mr. darwin wrote: "it is a more curious fact that savages did not formerly waste away, as mr. bagehot has remarked, before the classical nations, as they now do before modern civilised nations..."( / . bagehot, "physics and politics," "fortnightly review," april, , page .) in the second edition (page ) the statement remains, but a mass of evidence (pages - ) is added, to which reference occurs in the reply to the following letter.) at pages - of the enclosed address ( / . "british association reports," , page .) you will find that i have controverted mr. bagehot's view as to the extinction of the barbarians in the times of classical antiquity, as also the view of poppig as to there being some occult influence exercised by civilisation to the disadvantage of savagery when the two come into contact. i write to say that i took up this subject without any wish to impugn any views of yours as such, but with the desire of having my say upon certain anti-sanitarian transactions and malfeasance of which i had had a painful experience. on reading however what i said, and had written somewhat hastily, it has struck me that what i have said might bear the former interpretation in the eyes of persons who might not read other papers of mine, and indeed other parts of the same address, in which my adhesion, whatever it is worth, to your views in general is plainly enough implied. i have ventured to write this explanation to you for several reasons. letter . to g. rolleston. bassett, southampton, september nd [ ]. i am much obliged to you for having sent me your address, which has interested me greatly. i quite subscribe to what you say about mr. bagehot's striking remark, and wish i had not quoted it. i can perceive no sort of reflection or blame on anything which i have written, and i know well that i deserve many a good slap on the face. the decrease of savage populations interests me much, and i should like you some time to look at a discussion on this subject which i have introduced in the second edition of the "descent of man," and which you can find (for i have no copy here) in the list of additions. the facts have convinced me that lessened fertility and the poor constitution of the children is one chief cause of such decrease; and that the case is strictly parallel to the sterility of many wild animals when made captive, the civilisation of savages and the captivity of wild animals leading to the same result. letter . to ernst krause. down, june th, . i have been much interested by your able argument against the belief that the sense of colour has been recently acquired by man. ( / . see "kosmos," june , page , a review of dr. hugo magnus' "die geschichtliche entwickelung des farbensinnes," . the first part is chiefly an account of the author's views; dr. krause's argument begins at page . the interest felt by mr. darwin is recorded by the numerous pencil-marks on the margin of his copy.) the following observation bears on this subject. i attended carefully to the mental development of my young children, and with two, or as i believe three of them, soon after they had come to the age when they knew the names of all common objects, i was startled by observing that they seemed quite incapable of affixing the right names to the colours in coloured engravings, although i tried repeatedly to teach them. i distinctly remember declaring that they were colour-blind, but this afterwards proved a groundless fear. on communicating this fact to another person he told me that he had observed a nearly similar case. therefore the difficulty which young children experience either in distinguishing, or more probably in naming colours, seems to deserve further investigation. i will add that it formerly appeared to me that the gustatory sense, at least in the case of my own infants, and very young children, differed from that of grown-up persons. this was shown by their not disliking rhubarb mixed with a little sugar and milk, which is to us abominably nauseous; and in their strong taste for the sourest and most austere fruits, such as unripe gooseberries and crabapples. (plate: g.j. romanes, . elliott & fry, photo. walker and cockerell, ph. sc.) letter . to g.j. romanes. [barlaston], august th, . ( / . part of this letter (here omitted) is published in "life and letters," iii., page , and the whole in the "life and letters of g.j. romanes," page . the lecture referred to was on animal intelligence, and was given at the dublin meeting of the british association.) ...the sole fault which i find with your lecture is that it is too short, and this is a rare fault. it strikes me as admirably clear and interesting. i meant to have remonstrated that you had not discussed sufficiently the necessity of signs for the formation of abstract ideas of any complexity, and then i came on the discussion on deaf mutes. this latter seems to me one of the richest of all the mines, and is worth working carefully for years, and very deeply. i should like to read whole chapters on this one head, and others on the minds of the higher idiots. nothing can be better, as it seems to me, than your several lines or sources of evidence, and the manner in which you have arranged the whole subject. your book will assuredly be worth years of hard labour; and stick to your subject. by the way, i was pleased at your discussing the selection of varying instincts or mental tendencies; for i have often been disappointed by no one having ever noticed this notion. i have just finished "la psychologie, son present et son avenir," , by delboeuf (a mathematician and physicist of belgium) in about a hundred pages. it has interested me a good deal, but why i hardly know; it is rather like herbert spencer. if you do not know it, and would care to see it, send me a postcard. thank heaven, we return home on thursday, and i shall be able to go on with my humdrum work, and that makes me forget my daily discomfort. have you ever thought of keeping a young monkey, so as to observe its mind? at a house where we have been staying there were sir a. and lady hobhouse, not long ago returned from india, and she and he kept [a] young monkey and told me some curious particulars. one was that her monkey was very fond of looking through her eyeglass at objects, and moved the glass nearer and further so as to vary the focus. this struck me, as frank's son, nearly two years old (and we think much of his intellect!!) is very fond of looking through my pocket lens, and i have quite in vain endeavoured to teach him not to put the glass close down on the object, but he always will do so. therefore i conclude that a child under two years is inferior in intellect to a monkey. once again i heartily congratulate you on your well-earned present, and i feel assured, grand future success. ( / . later in the year mr. darwin wrote: "i am delighted to hear that you mean to work the comparative psychology well. i thought your letter to the "times" very good indeed. ( / . romanes wrote to the "times" august th, , expressing his views regarding the distinction between man and the lower animals, in reply to criticisms contained in a leading article in the "times" of august rd on his lecture at the dublin meeting of the british association.) bartlett, at the zoological gardens, i feel sure, would advise you infinitely better about hardiness, intellect, price, etc., of monkey than f. buckland; but with him it must be viva voce. "frank says you ought to keep a idiot, a deaf mute, a monkey, and a baby in your house.") letter . to g.a. gaskell. down, november th, . ( / . this letter has been published in clapperton's "scientific meliorism," , page , together with mr. gaskell's letter of november th (page ). mr. gaskell's laws are given in his letter of november th, . they are:-- i. the organological law: natural selection, or the survival of the fittest. ii. the sociological law: sympathetic selection, or indiscriminate survival. iii. the moral law: social selection, or the birth of the fittest.) your letter seems to me very interesting and clearly expressed, and i hope that you are in the right. your second law appears to be largely acted on in all civilised countries, and i just alluded to it in my remarks to the effect (as far as i remember) that the evil which would follow by checking benevolence and sympathy in not fostering the weak and diseased would be greater than by allowing them to survive and then to procreate. with regard to your third law, i do not know whether you have read an article (i forget when published) by f. galton, in which he proposes certificates of health, etc., for marriage, and that the best should be matched. i have lately been led to reflect a little, (for, now that i am growing old, my work has become [word indecipherable] special) on the artificial checks, but doubt greatly whether such would be advantageous to the world at large at present, however it may be in the distant future. suppose that such checks had been in action during the last two or three centuries, or even for a shorter time in britain, what a difference it would have made in the world, when we consider america, australia, new zealand, and s. africa! no words can exaggerate the importance, in my opinion, of our colonisation for the future history of the world. if it were universally known that the birth of children could be prevented, and this were not thought immoral by married persons, would there not be great danger of extreme profligacy amongst unmarried women, and might we not become like the "arreoi" societies in the pacific? in the course of a century france will tell us the result in many ways, and we can already see that the french nation does not spread or increase much. i am glad that you intend to continue your investigations, and i hope ultimately may publish on the subject. letter . to k. hochberg. down, january th, . i am much obliged for your note and for the essay which you have sent me. i am a poor german scholar, and your german is difficult; but i think that i understand your meaning, and hope at some future time, when more at leisure, to recur to your essay. as far as i can judge, you have made a great advance in many ways in the subject; and i will send your paper to mr. edmund gurney (the late edmund gurney, author of "the power of sound," .), who has written on and is much interested in the origin of the taste for music. in reading your essay, it occurred to me that facility in the utterance of prolonged sounds (i do not think that you allude to this point) may possibly come into play in rendering them musical; for i have heard it stated that those who vary their voices much, and use cadences in long continued speaking, feel less fatigued than those who speak on the same note. letter . to g.j. romanes. down, february th, . ( / . romanes was at work on what ultimately came to be a book on animal intelligence. romanes's reply to this letter is given in his "life," page . the table referred to is published as a frontispiece to his "mental evolution in animals," .) as i feared, i cannot be of the least use to you. i could not venture to say anything about babies without reading my expression book and paper on infants, or about animals without reading the "descent of man" and referring to my notes; and it is a great wrench to my mind to change from one subject to another. i will, however, hazard one or two remarks. firstly, i should have thought that the word "love" (not sexual passion), as shown very low in the scale, to offspring and apparently to comrades, ought to have come in more prominently in your table than appears to be the case. secondly, if you give any instance of the appreciation of different stimulants by plants, there is a much better case than that given by you--namely, that of the glands of drosera, which can be touched roughly two or three times and do not transmit any effect, but do so if pressed by a weight of / grain ("insectivorous plants" ). on the other hand, the filament of dionoea may be quietly loaded with a much greater weight, while a touch by a hair causes the lobes to close instantly. this has always seemed to me a marvellous fact. thirdly, i have been accustomed to look at the coming in of the sense of pleasure and pain as one of the most important steps in the development of mind, and i should think it ought to be prominent in your table. the sort of progress which i have imagined is that a stimulus produced some effect at the point affected, and that the effect radiated at first in all directions, and then that certain definite advantageous lines of transmission were acquired, inducing definite reaction in certain lines. such transmission afterwards became associated in some unknown way with pleasure or pain. these sensations led at first to all sorts of violent action, such as the wriggling of a worm, which was of some use. all the organs of sense would be at the same time excited. afterwards definite lines of action would be found to be the most useful, and so would be practised. but it is of no use my giving you my crude notions. letter . to s. tolver preston. down, may nd, . ( / . mr. preston wrote (may th, ) to the effect that "self-interest as a motive for conduct is a thing to be commended--and it certainly [is] i think...the only conceivable rational motive of conduct: and always is the tacitly recognised motive in all rational actions." mr. preston does not, of course, commend selfishness, which is not true self-interest. there seem to be two ways of looking at the case given by darwin. the man who knows that he is risking his life,--realising that the personal satisfaction that may follow is not worth the risk--is surely admirable from the strength of character that leads him to follow the social instinct against his purely personal inclination. but the man who blindly obeys the social instinct is a more useful member of a social community. he will act with courage where even the strong man will fail.) your letter appears to me an interesting and valuable one; but i have now been working for some years exclusively on the physiology of plants, and all other subjects have gone out of my head, and it fatigues me much to try and bring them back again into my head. i am, moreover, at present very busy, as i leave home for a fortnight's rest at the beginning of next week. my conviction as yet remains unchanged, that a man who (for instance) jumps into a river to save a life without a second's reflection (either from an innate tendency or from one gained by habit) is deservedly more honoured than a man who acts deliberately and is conscious, for however short a time, that the risk and sacrifice give him some inward satisfaction. you are of course familiar with herbert spencer's writings on ethics. ( / . the observations to which the following letters refer were continued by mr. wallis, who gave an account of his work in an interesting paper in the "proceedings of the zoological society," march nd, . the results on the whole confirm the belief that traces of an ancestral pointed ear exist in man.) letter . to h.m. wallis. down, march nd, . i am very much obliged for your courteous and kind note. the fact which you communicate is quite new to me, and as i was laughed at about the tips to human ears, i should like to publish in "nature" some time your fact. but i must first consult eschricht, and see whether he notices this fact in his curious paper on the lanugo on human embryos; and secondly i ought to look to monkeys and other animals which have tufted ears, and observe how the hair grows. this i shall not be able to do for some months, as i shall not be in london until the autumn so as to go to the zoological gardens. but in order that i may not hereafter throw away time, will you be so kind as to inform me whether i may publish your observation if on further search it seems desirable? letter . to h.m. wallis. down, march st, . i am much obliged for your interesting letter. i am glad to hear that you are looking to other ears, and will visit the zoological gardens. under these circumstances it would be incomparably better (as more authentic) if you would publish a notice of your observations in "nature" or some scientific journal. would it not be well to confine your attention to infants, as more likely to retain any primordial character, and offering less difficulty in observing. i think, though, it would be worth while to observe whether there is any relation (though probably none) between much hairiness on the ears of an infant and the presence of the "tip" on the folded margin. could you not get an accurate sketch of the direction of the hair of the tip of an ear? the fact which you communicate about the goat-sucker is very curious. about the difference in the power of flight in dorkings, etc., may it not be due merely to greater weight of body in the adults? i am so old that i am not likely ever again to write on general and difficult points in the theory of evolution. i shall use what little strength is left me for more confined and easy subjects. letter . to mrs. talbot. (mrs. emily talbot was secretary of the education department of the american social science association, boston, mass. a circular and register was issued by the department, and answers to various questions were asked for. see "nature," april th, page , . the above letter was published in "the field naturalist," manchester, , page , edited by mr. w.e. axon, to whom we are indebted for a copy.) down, july th [ ?] in response to your wish, i have much pleasure in expressing the interest which i feel in your proposed investigation on the mental and bodily development of infants. very little is at present accurately known on this subject, and i believe that isolated observations will add but little to our knowledge, whereas tabulated results from a very large number of observations, systematically made, would probably throw much light on the sequence and period of development of the several faculties. this knowledge would probably give a foundation for some improvement in our education of young children, and would show us whether the system ought to be followed in all cases. i will venture to specify a few points of inquiry which, as it seems to me, possess some scientific interest. for instance, does the education of the parents influence the mental powers of their children at any age, either at a very early or somewhat more advanced stage? this could perhaps be learned by schoolmasters and mistresses if a large number of children were first classed according to age and their mental attainments, and afterwards in accordance with the education of their parents, as far as this could be discovered. as observation is one of the earliest faculties developed in young children, and as this power would probably be exercised in an equal degree by the children of educated and uneducated persons, it seems not impossible that any transmitted effect from education could be displayed only at a somewhat advanced age. it would be desirable to test statistically, in a similar manner, the truth of the oft-repeated statement that coloured children at first learn as quickly as white children, but that they afterwards fall off in progress. if it could be proved that education acts not only on the individual, but, by transmission, on the race, this would be a great encouragement to all working on this all-important subject. it is well known that children sometimes exhibit, at a very early age, strong special tastes, for which no cause can be assigned, although occasionally they may be accounted for by reversion to the taste or occupation of some progenitor; and it would be interesting to learn how far such early tastes are persistent and influence the future career of the individual. in some instances such tastes die away without apparently leaving any after effect, but it would be desirable to know how far this is commonly the case, as we should then know whether it were important to direct as far as this is possible the early tastes of our children. it may be more beneficial that a child should follow energetically some pursuit, of however trifling a nature, and thus acquire perseverance, than that he should be turned from it because of no future advantage to him. i will mention one other small point of inquiry in relation to very young children, which may possibly prove important with respect to the origin of language; but it could be investigated only by persons possessing an accurate musical ear. children, even before they can articulate, express some of their feelings and desires by noises uttered in different notes. for instance, they make an interrogative noise, and others of assent and dissent, in different tones; and it would, i think, be worth while to ascertain whether there is any uniformity in different children in the pitch of their voices under various frames of mind. i fear that this letter can be of no use to you, but it will serve to show my sympathy and good wishes in your researches. .viii.ii. sexual selection, - . letter . to james shaw. down, february th [ ]. i am much obliged to you for your kindness in sending me an abstract of your paper on beauty. ( / . a newspaper report of a communication to the "dumfries antiquarian and natural history society.") in my opinion you take quite a correct view of the subject. it is clear that dr. dickson has either never seen my book, or overlooked the discussion on sexual selection. if you have any precise facts on birds' "courtesy towards their own image in mirror or picture," i should very much like to hear them. butterflies offer an excellent instance of beauty being displayed in conspicuous parts; for those kinds which habitually display the underside of the wing have this side gaudily coloured, and this is not so in the reverse case. i daresay you will know that the males of many foreign butterflies are much more brilliantly coloured than the females, as in the case of birds. i can adduce good evidence from two large classes of facts (too large to specify) that flowers have become beautiful to make them conspicuous to insects. ( / . this letter is published in "a country schoolmaster, james shaw." edited by robert wallace, edinburgh, .) ( / . mr. darwin wrote again to mr. shaw in april, :--) i am much obliged for your kind letter and all the great trouble which you have taken in sending to all the various and interesting facts on birds admiring themselves. i am very glad to hear of these facts. i have just finished writing and adding to a new edition of the "origin," and in this i have given, without going into details (so that i shall not be able to use your facts), some remarks on the subject of beauty. letter . to a.d. bartlett. down, february th [ ?] i want to beg two favours of you. i wish to ascertain whether the bower-bird discriminates colours. ( / . mr. bartlett does not seem to have supplied any information on the point in question. the evidence for the bower-bird's taste in colour is in "descent of man," ii., page .) will you have all the coloured worsted removed from the cage and bower, and then put all in a row, at some distance from bower, the enclosed coloured worsted, and mark whether the bird at first makes any selection. each packet contains an equal quantity; the packets had better be separate, and each thread put separate, but close together; perhaps it would be fairest if the several colours were put alternately--one thread of bright scarlet, one thread of brown, etc., etc. there are six colours. will you have the kindness to tell me whether the birds prefer one colour to another? secondly, i very much want several heads of the fancy and long-domesticated rabbits, to measure the capacity of skull. i want only small kinds, such as himalaya, small angora, silver grey, or any small-sized rabbit which has long been domesticated. the silver grey from warrens would be of little use. the animals must be adult, and the smaller the breed the better. now when any one dies would you send me the carcase named; if the skin is of any value it might be skinned, but it would be rather better with skin, and i could make a present to any keeper to whom the skin is a perquisite. this would be of great assistance to me, if you would have the kindness thus to aid me. letter . to w.b. tegetmeier. ( / . we are not aware that the experiment here suggested has ever been carried out.) down, march th [ ]. i write on the bare and very improbable chance of your being able to try, or get some trustworthy person to try, the following little experiment. but i may first state, as showing what i want, that it has been stated that if two long feathers in the tail of the male widow-bird at the cape of good hope are pulled out, no female will pair with him. now, where two or three common cocks are kept, i want to know, if the tail sickle-feathers and saddle-feathers of one which had succeeded in getting wives were cut and mutilated and his beauty spoiled, whether he would continue to be successful in getting wives. this might be tried with drakes or peacocks, but no one would be willing to spoil for a season his peacocks. i have no strength or opportunity of watching my own poultry, otherwise i would try it. i would very gladly repay all expenses of loss of value of the poultry, etc. but, as i said, i have written on the most improbable chance of your interesting any one to make the trial, or having time and inclination yourself to make it. another, and perhaps better, mode of making the trial would be to turn down to some hens two or three cocks, one being injured in its plumage. i am glad to say that i have begun correcting proofs. ( / . "the variation of animals and plants.") i hope that you received safely the skulls which you so kindly lent me. letter . to w.b. tegetmeier. down, march th [ ]. i am much obliged for your note, and shall be truly obliged if you will insert any question on the subject. that is a capital remark of yours about the trimmed game cocks, and shall be quoted by me. ( / . "descent of man," edition i., volume ii., page . "mr. tegetmeier is convinced that a game cock, though disfigured by being dubbed with his hackles trimmed, would be accepted as readily as a male retaining all his natural ornaments.") nevertheless i am still inclined from many facts strongly to believe that the beauty of the male bird determines the choice of the female with wild birds, however it may be under domestication. sir r. heron has described how one pied peacock was extra attentive to the hens. this is a subject which i must take up as soon as my present book is done. i shall be most particularly obliged to you if you will dye with magenta a pigeon or two. ( / . "mr. tegetmeier, at my request, stained some of his birds with magenta, but they were not much noticed by the others."--"descent of man" ( ), page .) would it not be better to dye the tail alone and crown of head, so as not to make too great difference? i shall be very curious to hear how an entirely crimson pigeon will be received by the others as well as his mate. p.s.--perhaps the best experiment, for my purpose, would be to colour a young unpaired male and turn him with other pigeons, and observe whether he was longer or quicker than usual in mating. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, april th [ ]. i have been greatly interested by your letter, but your view is not new to me. ( / . we have not been able to find mr. wallace's letter to which this is a reply. it evidently refers to mr. wallace's belief in the paramount importance of protection in the evolution of colour. this is clear from the p.s. to the present letter and from the passages in the "origin" referred to. the first reference, edition iv., page , is as follows: "we can sometimes plainly see the proximate cause of the transmission of ornaments to the males alone; for a pea-hen with the long tail of the male bird would be badly fitted to sit on her eggs, and a coal-black female capercailzie would be far more conspicuous on her nest, and more exposed to danger, than in her present modest attire." the passages in edition i. (pages , ) do not directly bear on the question of protection.) if you will look at page of the fourth edition of the "origin" you will find it very briefly given with two extreme examples of the peacock and black grouse. a more general statement is given at page , or at page of the first edition, for i have long entertained this view, though i have never had space to develop it. but i had not sufficient knowledge to generalise as far as you do about colouring and nesting. in your paper perhaps you will just allude to my scanty remark in the fourth edition, because in my essay on man i intend to discuss the whole subject of sexual selection, explaining as i believe it does much with respect to man. i have collected all my old notes, and partly written my discussion, and it would be flat work for me to give the leading idea as exclusively from you. but, as i am sure from your greater knowledge of ornithology and entomology that you will write a much better discussion than i could, your paper will be of great use to me. nevertheless i must discuss the subject fully in my essay on man. when we met at the zoological society, and i asked you about the sexual differences in kingfishers, i had this subject in view; as i had when i suggested to bates the difficulty about gaudy caterpillars, which you have so admirably (as i believe it will prove) explained. ( / . see a letter of february th, , to mr. wallace, "life and letters" iii., page .) i have got one capital case (genus forgotten) of a [australian] bird in which the female has long tail-plumes, and which consequently builds a different nest from all her allies. ( / . menura superba: see "descent of man" ( ), page . rhynchoea, mentioned a line or two lower down, is discussed in the "descent," page . the female is more brightly coloured than the male, and has a convoluted trachea, elsewhere a masculine character. there seems some reason to suppose that "the male undertakes the duty of incubation.") with respect to certain female birds being more brightly coloured than the males, and the latter incubating, i have gone a little into the subject, and cannot say that i am fully satisfied. i remember mentioning to you the case of rhynchoea, but its nesting seems unknown. in some other cases the difference in brightness seemed to me hardly sufficiently accounted for by the principle of protection. at the falkland islands there is a carrion hawk in which the female (as i ascertained by dissection) is the brightest coloured, and i doubt whether protection will here apply; but i wrote several months ago to the falklands to make enquiries. the conclusion to which i have been leaning is that in some of these abnormal cases the colour happened to vary in the female alone, and was transmitted to females alone, and that her variations have been selected through the admiration of the male. it is a very interesting subject, but i shall not be able to go on with it for the next five or six months, as i am fully employed in correcting dull proof-sheets. when i return to the work i shall find it much better done by you than i could have succeeded in doing. it is curious how we hit on the same ideas. i have endeavoured to show in my ms. discussion that nearly the same principles account for young birds not being gaily coloured in many cases, but this is too complex a point for a note. on reading over your letter again, and on further reflection, i do not think (as far as i remember my words) that i expressed myself nearly strongly enough on the value and beauty of your generalisation ( / . see letter , volume i.), viz., that all birds in which the female is conspicuously or brightly coloured build in holes or under domes. i thought that this was the explanation in many, perhaps most cases, but do not think i should ever have extended my view to your generalisation. forgive me troubling you with this p.s. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, may th [ ]. the offer of your valuable notes is most generous, but it would vex me to take so much from you, as it is certain that you could work up the subject very much better than i could. therefore i earnestly, and without any reservation, hope that you will proceed with your paper, so that i return your notes. you seem already to have well investigated the subject. i confess on receiving your note that i felt rather flat at my recent work being almost thrown away, but i did not intend to show this feeling. as a proof how little advance i had made on the subject, i may mention that though i had been collecting facts on the colouring, and other sexual differences in mammals, your explanation with respect to the females had not occurred to me. i am surprised at my own stupidity, but i have long recognised how much clearer and deeper your insight into matters is than mine. i do not know how far you have attended to the laws of inheritance, so what follows may be obvious to you. i have begun my discussion on sexual selection by showing that new characters often appear in one sex and are transmitted to that sex alone, and that from some unknown cause such characters apparently appear oftener in the male than in the female. secondly, characters may be developed and be confined to the male, and long afterwards be transferred to the female. thirdly, characters may arise in either sex and be transmitted to both sexes, either in an equal or unequal degree. in this latter case i have supposed that the survival of the fittest has come into play with female birds and kept the female dull-coloured. with respect to the absence of spurs in the female gallinaceous birds, i presume that they would be in the way during incubation; at least i have got the case of a german breed of fowls in which the hens were spurred, and were found to disturb and break their eggs much. with respect to the females of deer not having horns, i presume it is to save the loss of organised matter. in your note you speak of sexual selection and protection as sufficient to account for the colouring of all animals, but it seems to me doubtful how far this will come into play with some of the lower animals, such as sea anemones, some corals, etc., etc. on the other hand hackel ( / . see "descent of man" ( ) page .) has recently well shown that the transparency and absence of colour in the lower oceanic animals, belonging to the most different classes, may be well accounted for on the principle of protection. some time or other i should like much to know where your paper on the nests of birds has appeared, and i shall be extremely anxious to read your paper in the "westminster review." ( / . "westminster review," july, .) your paper on the sexual colouring of birds will, i have no doubt, be very striking. forgive me, if you can, for a touch of illiberality about your paper. letter . to a.r. wallace. march th, . ( / . "the variation of animals and plants" having been published on january th, , mr. darwin notes in his diary that on february th he "began on man and sexual selection." he had already (in and ) corresponded with mr. wallace on these questions--see for instance the "life and letters," iii., page ; but, owing to various interruptions, serious work on the subject did not begin until . the following quotations show the line of work undertaken early in . mr. wallace wrote (march th, ): "i am glad you have got good materials on sexual selection. it is no doubt a difficult subject. one difficulty to me is, that i do not see how the constant minute variations, which are sufficient for natural selection to work with, could be sexually selected. we seem to require a series of bold and abrupt variations. how can we imagine that an inch in the tail of the peacock, or / -inch in that of the bird of paradise, would be noticed and preferred by the female.") in regard to sexual selection. a girl sees a handsome man, and without observing whether his nose or whiskers are the tenth of an inch longer or shorter than in some other man, admires his appearance and says she will marry him. so, i suppose, with the pea-hen; and the tail has been increased in length merely by, on the whole, presenting a more gorgeous appearance. j. jenner weir, however, has given me some facts showing that birds apparently admire details of plumage. letter . to f. muller. march th [ ]. i am particularly obliged to you for your observations on the stridulation of the two sexes of lamellicorns. ( / . we are unable to find any mention of f. muller's observations on this point; but the reference is clearly to darwin's observations on necrophorus and pelobius, in which the stridulating rasp was bigger in the males in the first individuals examined, but not so in succeeding specimens. "descent of man," edition ii., volume i., page .) i begin to fear that i am completely in error owing to that common cause, viz. mistaking at first individual variability for sexual difference. i go on working at sexual selection, and, though never idle, i am able to do so little work each day that i make very slow progress. i knew from azara about the young of the tapir being striped, and about young deer being spotted ( / . fritz muller's views are discussed in the "descent of man," edition ii., volume ii., page .); i have often reflected on this subject, and know not what to conclude about the loss of the stripes and spots. from the geographical distribution of the striped and unstriped species of equus there seems to be something very mysterious about the loss of stripes; and i cannot persuade myself that the common ass has lost its stripes owing to being rendered more conspicuous from having stripes and thus exposed to danger. letter . to j. jenner weir. ( / . mr. john jenner weir, to whom the following letters are addressed, is frequently quoted in the "descent of man" as having supplied mr. darwin with information on a variety of subjects.) down, february th [ ]. i must thank you for your paper on apterous lepidoptera ( / . published by the west kent natural history, microscopical and photographic society, greenwich, . mr. weir's paper seems chiefly to have interested mr. darwin as affording a good case of gradation in the degree of degradation of the wings in various species.), which has interested me exceedingly, and likewise for the very honourable mention which you make of my name. it is almost a pity that your paper was not published in some journal in which it would have had a wider distribution. it contained much that was new to me. i think the part about the relation of the wings and spiracles and tracheae might have been made a little clearer. incidentally, you have done me a good service by reminding me of the rudimentary spurs on the legs of the partridge, for i am now writing on what i have called sexual selection. i believe that i am not mistaken in thinking that you have attended much to birds in confinement, as well as to insects. if you could call to mind any facts bearing on this subject, with birds, insects, or any animals--such as the selection by a female of any particular male--or conversely of a particular female by a male, or on the rivalry between males, or on the allurement of the females by the males, or any such facts, i should be most grateful for the information, if you would have the kindness to communicate it. p.s.--i may give as instance of [this] class of facts, that barrow asserts that a male emberiza (?) at the cape has immensely long tail-feathers during the breeding season ( / . barrow describes the long tail feathers of emberiza longicauda as enduring "but the season of love." "an account of travels into the interior of southern africa": london, , volume i., page .); and that if these are cut off, he has no chance of getting a wife. i have always felt an intense wish to make analogous trials, but have never had an opportunity, and it is not likely that you or any one would be willing to try so troublesome an experiment. colouring or staining the fine red breast of a bullfinch with some innocuous matter into a dingy tint would be an analogous case, and then putting him and ordinary males with a female. a friend promised, but failed, to try a converse experiment with white pigeons--viz., to stain their tails and wings with magenta or other colours, and then observe what effect such a prodigious alteration would have on their courtship. ( / . see letter .) it would be a fairer trial to cut off the eyes of the tail-feathers of male peacocks; but who would sacrifice the beauty of their bird for a whole season to please a mere naturalist? letter . to j. jenner weir. down, february th [ ]. i have hardly ever received a note which has interested me more than your last; and this is no exaggeration. i had a few cases of birds perceiving slight changes in the dress of their owners, but your facts are of tenfold value. i shall certainly make use of them, and need not say how much obliged i should be for any others about which you feel confident. do you know of any birds besides some of the gallinaceae which are polygamous? do you know of any birds besides pigeons, and, as it is said, the raven, which pair for their whole lives? many years ago i visited your brother, who showed me his pigeons and gave me some valuable information. could you persuade him (but i fear he would think it high treason) to stain a male pigeon some brilliant colour, and observe whether it excited in the other pigeons, especially the females, admiration or contempt? for the chance of your liking to have a copy and being able to find some parts which would interest you, i have directed mr. murray to send you my recent book on "variation under domestication." p.s.--i have somewhere safe references to cases of magpies, of which one of a pair has been repeatedly (i think seven times) killed, and yet another mate was always immediately found. ( / . on this subject see "descent of man," edition i., volume ii., page , where mr. weir's observations were made use of. this statement is quoted from jenner ("phil. trans." ) in the "descent of man" ( ), page .) a gamekeeper told me yesterday of analogous case. this perplexes me much. are there many unmarried birds? i can hardly believe it. or will one of a pair, of which the nest has been robbed, or which are barren, always desert his or her mate for a strange mate with the attraction of a nest, and in one instance with young birds in the nest? the gamekeeper said during breeding season he had never observed a single or unpaired partridge. how can the sexes be so equally matched? p.s. nd.--i fear you will find me a great bore, but i will be as reasonable as can be expected in plundering one so rich as you. p.s. rd.--i have just received a letter from dr. wallace ( / . see "descent of man," edition i., volume i., pages - , where dr. wallace's observations are quoted.), of colchester, about the proportional numbers of the two sexes in bombyx; and in this note, apropos to an incidental remark of mine, he stoutly maintains that female lepidoptera never notice the colours or appearance of the male, but always receive the first male which comes; and this appears very probable. he says he has often seen fine females receive old battered and pale-tinted males. i shall have to admit this very great objection to sexual selection in insects. his observations no doubt apply to english lepidoptera, in most of which the sexes are alike. the brimstone or orange-tip would be good to observe in this respect, but it is hopelessly difficult. i think i have often seen several males following one female; and what decides which male shall succeed? how is this about several males; is it not so? letter . to j. jenner weir. , queen anne street, cavendish square, w. [march th, ]. i have come here for a few weeks, for a little change and rest. just as i was leaving home i received your first note, and yesterday a second; and both are most interesting and valuable to me. that is a very curious observation about the goldfinch's beak ( / . "descent of man," edition i., volume i., page . mr. weir is quoted as saying that the birdcatchers can distinguish the males of the goldfinch, carduelis elegans, by their "slightly longer beaks."), but one would hardly like to trust it without measurement or comparison of the beaks of several male and female birds; for i do not understand that you yourself assert that the beak of the male is sensibly longer than that of the female. if you come across any acute birdcatchers (i do not mean to ask you to go after them), i wish you would ask what is their impression on the relative numbers of the sexes of any birds which they habitually catch, and whether some years males are more numerous and some years females. i see that i must trust to analogy (an unsafe support) for sexual selection in regard to colour in butterflies. you speak of the brimstone butterfly and genus edusa ( / . colias edusa.) (i forget what this is, and have no books here, unless it is colias) not opening their wings. in one of my notes to mr. stainton i asked him (but he could or did not answer) whether butterflies such as the fritillaries, with wings bright beneath and above, opened and shut their wings more than vanessae, most of which, i think, are obscure on the under surface. that is a most curious observation about the red underwing moth and the robin ( / . "descent of man," edition i., volume i., page . mr. weir describes the pursuit of a red-underwing, triphoena pronuba, by a robin which was attracted by the bright colour of the moth, and constantly missed the insect by breaking pieces off the wing instead of seizing the body. mr. wallace's facts are given on the same page.), and strongly supports a suggestion (which i thought hardly credible) of a.r. wallace, viz. that the immense wings of some exotic lepidoptera served as a protection from difficulty of birds seizing them. i will probably quote your case. no doubt dr. hooker collected the kerguelen moth, for i remember he told me of the case when i suggested in the "origin," the explanation of the coleoptera of madeira being apterous; but he did not know what had become of the specimens. i am quite delighted to hear that you are observing coloured birds ( / . "descent of man," edition i., volume ii., page .), though the probability, i suppose, will be that no sure result will be gained. i am accustomed with my numerous experiments with plants to be well satisfied if i get any good result in one case out of five. you will not be able to read all my book--too much detail. some of the chapters in the second volume are curious, i think. if any man wants to gain a good opinion of his fellow-men, he ought to do what i am doing, pester them with letters. letter . to j. jenner weir. , chester place, regent's park, n.w., march th [ ]. you make a very great mistake when you speak of "the risk of your notes boring me." they are of the utmost value to me, and i am sure i shall never be tired of receiving them; but i must not be unreasonable. i shall give almost all the facts which you have mentioned in your two last notes, as well as in the previous ones; and my only difficulty will be not to give too much and weary my readers. your last note is especially valuable about birds displaying the beautiful parts of their plumage. audubon ( / . in his "ornithological biography," volumes, edinburgh, - .) gives a good many facts about the antics of birds during courtship, but nothing nearly so much to the purpose as yours. i shall never be able to resist giving the whole substance of your last note. it is quite a new light to me, except with the peacock and bird of paradise. i must now look to turkey's wings; but i do not think that their wings are beautiful when opened during courtship. its tail is finely banded. how about the drake and gallus bankiva? i forget how their wings look when expanded. your facts are all the more valuable as i now clearly see that for butterflies i must trust to analogy altogether in regard to sexual selection. but i think i shall make out a strong case (as far as the rather deceitful guide of analogy will serve) in the sexes of butterflies being alike or differing greatly--in moths which do not display the lower surface of their wings not having them gaudily coloured, etc., etc.--nocturnal moths, etc.--and in some male insects fighting for the females, and attracting them by music. my discussion on sexual selection will be a curious one--a mere dovetailing of information derived from you, bates, wallace, etc., etc., etc. we remain at above address all this month, and then return home. in the summer, could i persuade you to pay us a visit of a day or two, and i would try and get bates and some others to come down? but my health is so precarious, i can ask no one who will not allow me the privilege of a poor old invalid; for talking, i find by long and dear-bought experience, tries my head more than anything, and i am utterly incapable of talking more than half an hour, except on rare occasions. i fear this note is very badly written; but i was very ill all yesterday, and my hand shakes to-day. letter . to j. jenner weir. , chester place, regent's park, n.w., march nd [ ]. i hope that you will not think me ungrateful that i have not sooner answered your note of the th; but in fact i have been overwhelmed both with calls and letters; and, alas! one visit to the british museum of an hour or hour and a half does for me for the whole day. i was particularly glad to hear your and your brother's statement about the "gay" deceiver-pigeons. ( / . some cock pigeons "called by our english fanciers gay birds are so successful in their gallantries that, as mr. h. weir informs me, they must be shut up, on account of the mischief which they cause.") i did not at all know that certain birds could win the affections of the females more than other males, except, indeed, in the case of the peacock. conversely, mr. hewitt, i remember, states that in making hybrids the cock pheasant would prefer certain hen fowls and strongly dislike others. i will write to mr. h. in a few days, and ask him whether he has observed anything of this kind with pure unions of fowls, ducks, etc. i had utterly forgotten the case of the ruff ( / . the ruff, machetes pugnax, was believed by montague to be polygamous. "descent of man," edition i., volume i., page .), but now i remember having heard that it was polygamous; but polygamy with birds, at least, does not seem common enough to have played an important part. so little is known of habits of foreign birds: wallace does not even know whether birds of paradise are polygamous. have you been a large collector of caterpillars? i believe so. i inferred from a letter from dr. wallace, of colchester, that he would account for mr. stainton and others rearing more female than male by their having collected the larger and finer caterpillars. but i misunderstood him, and he maintains that collectors take all caterpillars, large and small, for that they collect the caterpillars alone of the rarer moths or butterflies. what think you? i hear from professor canestrini ( / . see "descent of man" ( ), page .) in italy that females are born in considerable excess with bombyx mori, and in greater excess of late years than formerly! quatrefages writes to me that he believes they are equal in france. so that the farther i go the deeper i sink into the mire. with cordial thanks for your most valuable letters. we remain here till april st, and then hurrah for home and quiet work. letter . to j. jenner weir. , chester place, n.w., march th [ ]. i hardly know which of your three last letters has interested me most. what splendid work i shall have hereafter in selecting and arranging all your facts. your last letter is most curious--all about the bird-catchers--and interested us all. i suppose the male chaffinch in "pegging" approaches the captive singing-bird, from rivalry or jealousy--if i am wrong please tell me; otherwise i will assume so. can you form any theory about all the many cases which you have given me, and others which have been published, of when one [of a] pair is killed, another soon appearing? your fact about the bullfinches in your garden is most curious on this head. ( / . mr. weir stated that at blackheath he never saw or heard a wild bullfinch, yet when one of his caged males died, a wild one in the course of a few days generally came and perched near the widowed female, whose call-note is not loud. "descent of man" ( ), page .) are there everywhere many unpaired birds? what can the explanation be? mr. gould assures me that all the nightingales which first come over are males, and he believes this is so with other migratory birds. but this does not agree with what the bird-catchers say about the common linnet, which i suppose migrates within the limits of england. many thanks for very curious case of pavo nigripennis. ( / . see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page .) i am very glad to get additional evidence. i have sent your fact to be inserted, if not too late, in four foreign editions which are now printing. i am delighted to hear that you approve of my book; i thought every mortal man would find the details very tedious, and have often repented of giving so many. you will find pangenesis stiff reading, and i fear will shake your head in disapproval. wallace sticks up for the great god pan like a man. the fertility of hybrid canaries would be a fine subject for careful investigation. letter . to j. jenner weir. down, april th [ ]. i read over your last ten (!) letters this morning, and made an index of their contents for easy reference; and what a mine of wealth you have bestowed on me. i am glad you will publish yourself on gay-coloured caterpillars and birds ( / . see "descent of man," edition i., volume i., page , where mr. weir's experiments are given; they were made to test mr. wallace's theory that caterpillars, which are protected against birds by an unpleasant taste, have been rendered conspicuous, so that they are easily recognised. they thus escape being pecked or tasted, which to soft-skinned animals would be as fatal as being devoured. see mr. jenner weir's papers, "transact. entomolog. soc." , page ; , page . in regard to one of these papers mr. darwin wrote (may th, ): "your verification of wallace's suggestion seems to me to amount to quite a discovery."); it seems to me much the best plan; therefore, i will not forward your letter to mr. wallace. i was much in the zoological gardens during my month in london, and picked up what scraps of knowledge i could. without my having mentioned your most interesting observations on the display of the fringillidae ( / . "descent of man" ( ), page .), mr. bartlett told me how the gold pheasant erects his collar and turns from side to side, displaying it to the hen. he has offered to give me notes on the display of all gallinaceae with which he is acquainted; but he is so busy a man that i rather doubt whether he will ever do so. i received about a week ago a remarkably kind letter from your brother, and i am sorry to hear that he suffers much in health. he gave me some fine facts about a dun hen carrier which would never pair with a bird of any other colour. he told me, also, of some one at lewes who paints his dog! and will inquire about it. by the way, mr. trimen tells me that as a boy he used to paint butterflies, and that they long haunted the same place, but he made no further observations on them. as far as colour is concerned, i see i shall have to trust to mere inference from the males displaying their plumage, and other analogous facts. i shall get no direct evidence of the preference of the hens. mr. hewitt, of birmingham, tells me that the common hen prefers a salacious cock, but is quite indifferent to colour. will you consider and kindly give me your opinion on the two following points. do very vigorous and well-nourished hens receive the male earlier in the spring than weaker or poorer hens? i suppose that they do. secondly, do you suppose that the birds which pair first in the season have any advantage in rearing numerous and healthy offspring over those which pair later in the season? with respect to the mysterious cases of which you have given me so many, in addition to those previously collected, of when one bird of a pair is shot another immediately supplying its place, i was drawing to the conclusion that there must be in each district several unpaired birds; yet this seems very improbable. you allude, also, to the unknown causes which keep down the numbers of birds; and often and often have i marvelled over this subject with respect to many animals. letter . to a.r. wallace. ( / . the following refers to mr. wallace's article "a theory of birds' nests," in andrew murray's "journal of travel," volume i., page . he here treats in fuller detail the view already published in the "westminster review," july , page . the rule which mr. wallace believes, with very few exceptions, to hold good is, "that when both sexes are of strikingly gay and conspicuous colours, the nest is...such as to conceal the sitting bird; while, whenever there is a striking contrast of colours, the male being gay and conspicuous, the female dull and obscure, the nest is open, and the sitting bird exposed to view." at this time mr. wallace allowed considerably more influence to sexual selection (in combination with the need of protection) than in his later writings. the following extract from a letter from mr. wallace to darwin (july rd, ) fixes the period at which the change in his views occurred: "i am almost afraid to tell you that in going over the subject of the colours of animals, etc., etc., for a small volume of essays, etc., i am preparing, i have come to conclusions directly opposed to voluntary sexual selection, and believe that i can explain (in a general way) all the phenomena of sexual ornaments and colours by laws of development aided by simple 'natural selection.'" he finally rejected mr. darwin's theory that colours "have been developed by the preference of the females, the more ornamented males becoming the parents of each successive generation." "darwinism," , page . see also letters , , , , etc.) down, april th, [ ]. i have been deeply interested by your admirable article on birds' nests. i am delighted to see that we really differ very little,--not more than two men almost always will. you do not lay much or any stress on new characters spontaneously appearing in one sex (generally the male), and being transmitted exclusively, or more commonly only in excess, to that sex. i, on the other hand, formerly paid far too little attention to protection. i had only a glimpse of the truth; but even now i do not go quite as far as you. i cannot avoid thinking rather more than you do about the exceptions in nesting to the rule, especially the partial exceptions, i.e., when there is some little difference between the sexes in species which build concealed nests. i am not quite satisfied about the incubating males; there is so little difference in conspicuousness between the sexes. i wish with all my heart i could go the whole length with you. you seem to think that male birds probably select the most beautiful females; i must feel some doubt on this head, for i can find no evidence of it. though i am writing so carping a note, i admire the article thoroughly. and now i want to ask a question. when female butterflies are more brilliant than their males you believe that they have in most cases, or in all cases, been rendered brilliant so as to mimic some other species, and thus escape danger. but can you account for the males not having been rendered equally brilliant and equally protected? ( / . see wallace in the "westminster review," july, , page , on the protection to the female insect afforded by its resemblance either to an inanimate object or to another insect protected by its unpalatableness. the cases are discussed in relation to the much greater importance (to the species as a whole) of the preservation of the female insect with her load of eggs than the male who may safely be sacrificed after pairing. see letter , note.) although it may be most for the welfare of the species that the female should be protected, yet it would be some advantage, certainly no disadvantage, for the unfortunate male to enjoy an equal immunity from danger. for my part, i should say that the female alone had happened to vary in the right manner, and that the beneficial variations had been transmitted to the same sex alone. believing in this, i can see no improbability (but from analogy of domestic animals a strong probability) that variations leading to beauty must often have occurred in the males alone, and been transmitted to that sex alone. thus i should account in many cases for the greater beauty of the male over the female, without the need of the protective principle. i should be grateful for an answer on the point. letter . to j. jenner weir. down, april th [ ]. you see that i have taken you at your word, and have not (owing to heaps of stupid letters) earlier noticed your three last letters, which as usual are rich in facts. your letters make almost a little volume on my table. i daresay you hardly knew yourself how much curious information was lying in your mind till i began the severe pumping process. the case of the starling married thrice in one day is capital, and beats the case of the magpies of which one was shot seven times consecutively. a gamekeeper here tells me that he has repeatedly shot one of a pair of jays, and it has always been immediately replaced. i begin to think that the pairing of birds must be as delicate and tedious an operation as the pairing of young gentlemen and ladies. if i can convince myself that there are habitually many unpaired birds, it will be a great aid to me in sexual selection, about which i have lately had many troubles, and am therefore rejoiced to hear in your last note that your faith keeps staunch. that is a curious fact about the bullfinches all appearing to listen to the german singer ( / . see letter , note.); and this leads me to ask how much faith may i put in the statement that male birds will sing in rivalry until they injure themselves. yarrell formerly told me that they would sometimes even sing themselves to death. i am sorry to hear that the painted bullfinch turns out to be a female; though she has done us a good turn in exhibiting her jealousy, of which i had no idea. thank you for telling me about the wildness of the hybrid canaries: nothing has hardly ever surprised me more than the many cases of reversion from crossing. do you not think it a very curious subject? i have not heard from mr. bartlett about the gallinaceae, and i daresay i never shall. he told me about the tragopan, and he is positive that the blue wattle becomes gorged with blood, and not air. returning to the first of the last three letters. it is most curious the number of persons of the name of jenner who have had a strong taste for natural history. it is a pity you cannot trace your connection with the great jenner, for a duke might be proud of his blood. i heard lately from professor rolleston of the inherited effects of an injury in the same eye. is the scar on your son's leg on the same side and on exactly the same spot where you were wounded? and did the wound suppurate, or heal by the first intention? i cannot persuade myself of the truth of the common belief of the influence of the mother's imagination on the child. a point just occurs to me (though it does not at present concern me) about birds' nests. have you read wallace's recent articles? ( / . a full discussion of mr. wallace's views is given in "descent of man," edition i., volume ii., chapter xv. briefly, mr. wallace's point is that the dull colour of the female bird is protective by rendering her inconspicuous during incubation. thus the relatively bright colour of the male would not simply depend on sexual selection, but also on the hen being "saved, through natural selection, from acquiring the conspicuous colours of the male" (loc. cit., page ).) i always distrust myself when i differ from him; but i cannot admit that birds learn to make their nests from having seen them whilst young. i must think it as true an instinct as that which leads a caterpillar to suspend its cocoon in a particular manner. have you had any experience of birds hatched under a foster-mother making their nests in the proper manner? i cannot thank you enough for all your kindness. letter . to a.r. wallace. ( / . dr. clifford allbutt's view probably had reference to the fact that the sperm-cell goes, or is carried, to the germ-cell, never vice versa. in this letter darwin gives the reason for the "law" referred to. mr. a.r. wallace has been good enough to give us the following note:--"it was at this time that my paper on 'protective resemblance' first appeared in the 'westminster review,' in which i adduced the greater, or rather, the more continuous, importance of the female (in the lower animals) for the race, and my 'theory of birds' nests' ('journal of travel and natural history,' no. ) in which i applied this to the usually dull colours of female butterflies and birds. it is to these articles as well as to my letters that darwin chiefly refers."--note by mr. wallace, may th, .) down, april th [ ]. your letter, like so many previous ones, has interested me much. dr. allbutt's view occurred to me some time ago, and i have written a short discussion on it. it is, i think, a remarkable law, to which i have found no exception. the foundation lies in the fact that in many cases the eggs or seeds require nourishment and protection by the mother-form for some time after impregnation. hence the spermatozoa and antherozoids travel in the lower aquatic animals and plants to the female, and pollen is borne to the female organ. as organisms rise in the scale it seems natural that the male should carry the spermatozoa to the female in his own body. as the male is the searcher, he has required and gained more eager passions than the female; and, very differently from you, i look at this as one great difficulty in believing that the males select the more attractive females; as far as i can discover, they are always ready to seize on any female, and sometimes on many females. nothing would please me more than to find evidence of males selecting the more attractive females. i have for months been trying to persuade myself of this. there is the case of man in favour of this belief, and i know in hybrid unions of males preferring particular females, but, alas, not guided by colour. perhaps i may get more evidence as i wade through my twenty years' mass of notes. i am not shaken about the female protected butterflies. i will grant (only for argument) that the life of the male is of very little value,--i will grant that the males do not vary, yet why has not the protective beauty of the female been transferred by inheritance to the male? the beauty would be a gain to the male, as far as we can see, as a protection; and i cannot believe that it would be repulsive to the female as she became beautiful. but we shall never convince each other. i sometimes marvel how truth progresses, so difficult is it for one man to convince another, unless his mind is vacant. nevertheless, i myself to a certain extent contradict my own remark, for i believe far more in the importance of protection than i did before reading your articles. i do not think you lay nearly stress enough in your articles on what you admit in your letters: viz., "there seems to be some production of vividness...of colour in the male independent of protection." this i am making a chief point; and have come to your conclusion so far that i believe that intense colouring in the female sex is often checked by being dangerous. that is an excellent remark of yours about no known case of male alone assuming protective colours; but in the cases in which protection has been gained by dull colours, i presume that sexual selection would interfere with the male losing his beauty. if the male alone had acquired beauty as a protection, it would be most readily overlooked, as males are so often more beautiful than their females. moreover, i grant that the life of the male is somewhat less precious, and thus there would be less rigorous selection with the male, so he would be less likely to be made beautiful through natural selection for protection. ( / . this does not apply to sexual selection, for the greater the excess of males, and the less precious their lives, so much the better for sexual selection. [note in original.]) but it seems to me a good argument, and very good if it could be thoroughly established. i do not know whether you will care to read this scrawl. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, may th [ ?]. i am afraid i have caused you a great deal of trouble in writing to me at such length. i am glad to say that i agree almost entirely with your summary, except that i should put sexual selection as an equal, or perhaps as even a more important agent in giving colour than natural selection for protection. as i get on in my work i hope to get clearer and more decided ideas. working up from the bottom of the scale, i have as yet only got to fishes. what i rather object to in your articles is that i do not think any one would infer from them that you place sexual selection even as high as no. in your summary. it was very natural that you should give only a line to sexual selection in the summary to the "westminster review," but the result at first to my mind was that you attributed hardly anything to its power. in your penultimate note you say "in the great mass of cases in which there is great differentiation of colour between the sexes, i believe it is due almost wholly to the need of protection to the female." now, looking to the whole animal kingdom, i can at present by no means admit this view; but pray do not suppose that because i differ to a certain extent, i do not thoroughly admire your several papers and your admirable generalisation on birds' nests. with respect to this latter point, however, although, following you, i suspect that i shall ultimately look at the whole case from a rather different point of view. you ask what i think about the gay-coloured females of pieris. ( / . see "westminster review," july, , page ; also letter .) i believe i quite follow you in believing that the colours are wholly due to mimicry; and i further believe that the male is not brilliant from not having received through inheritance colour from the female, and from not himself having varied; in short, that he has not been influenced by selection. i can make no answer with respect to the elephants. with respect to the female reindeer, i have hitherto looked at the horns simply as the consequence of inheritance not having been limited by sex. your idea about colour being concentrated in the smaller males seems good, and i presume that you will not object to my giving it as your suggestion. letter . to j. jenner weir. down, may th [ ]. i have now to thank you for no less than four letters! you are so kind that i will not apologise for the trouble i cause you; but it has lately occurred to me that you ought to publish a paper or book on the habits of the birds which you have so carefully observed. but should you do this, i do not think that my giving some of the facts for a special object would much injure the novelty of your work. there is such a multitude of points in these last letters that i hardly know what to touch upon. thanks about the instinct of nidification, and for your answers on many points. i am glad to hear reports about the ferocious female bullfinch. i hope you will have another try in colouring males. i have now finished lepidoptera, and have used your facts about caterpillars, and as a caution the case of the yellow-underwings. i have now begun on fishes, and by comparing different classes of facts my views are getting a little more decided. in about a fortnight or three weeks i shall come to birds, and then i dare say that i shall be extra troublesome. i will now enclose a few queries for the mere chance of your being able to answer some of them, and i think it will save you trouble if i write them on a separate slip, and then you can sometimes answer by a mere "no" or "yes." your last letter on male pigeons and linnets has interested me much, for the precise facts which you have given me on display are of the utmost value for my work. i have written to mr. bartlett on gallinaceae, but i dare say i shall not get an answer. i had heard before, but am glad to have confirmation about the ruffs being the most numerous. i am greatly obliged to your brother for sending out circulars. i have not heard from him as yet. i want to ask him whether he has ever observed when several male pigeons are courting one female that the latter decides with which male she will pair. the story about the black mark on the lambs must be a hoax. the inaccuracy of many persons is wonderful. i should like to tell you a story, but it is too long, about beans growing on the wrong side of the pod during certain years. queries: does any female bird regularly sing? do you know any case of both sexes, more especially of the female, [being] more brightly coloured whilst young than when come to maturity and fit to breed? an imaginary instance would be if the female kingfisher (or male) became dull coloured when adult. do you know whether the male and female wild canary bird differ in plumage (though i believe i could find this out for myself), and do any of the domestic breeds differ sexually? do you know any gallinaceous bird in which the female has well developed spurs? it is very odd that my memory should fail me, but i cannot remember whether, in accordance with your views, the wing of gallus bankiva (or game-cock, which is so like the wild) is ornamental when he opens and scrapes it before the female. i fear it is not; but though i have often looked at wing of the wild and tame bird, i cannot call to mind the exact colours. what a number of points you have attended to; i did not know that you were a horticulturist. i have often marvelled at the different growth of the flowering and creeping branches of the ivy; but had no idea that they kept their character when propagated by cuttings. there is a s. american genus (name forgotten just now) which differs in an analogous manner but even greater degree, but it is difficult to cultivate in our hot-house. i have tried and failed. letter . to j. jenner weir. down, may th [ ]. i am glad to hear your opinion on the nest-making instinct, for i am tory enough not to like to give up all old beliefs. wallace's view ( / . see letter , etc.) is also opposed to a great mass of analogical facts. the cases which you mention of suddenly reacquired wildness seem curious. i have also to thank you for a previous valuable letter. with respect to spurs on female gallinaceae, i applied to mr. blyth, who has wonderful systematic knowledge, and he tells me that the female pavo muticus and fire-back pheasants are spurred. from various interruptions i get on very slowly with my bird ms., but have already often and often referred to your volume of letters, and have used various facts, and shall use many more. and now i am ashamed to say that i have more questions to ask; but i forget--you told me not to apologise. . in your letter of april th you mention the case of about twenty birds which seemed to listen with much interest to an excellent piping bullfinch. ( / . quoted in the "descent of man" ( ), page . "a bullfinch which had been taught to pipe a german waltz...when this bird was first introduced into a room where other birds were kept and he began to sing, all the others, consisting of about twenty linnets and canaries, ranged themselves on the nearest side of their cages, and listened with the greatest interest to the new performer.") what kind of birds were these twenty? . is it true, as often stated, that a bird reared by foster-parents, and who has never heard the song of its own species, imitates to a certain extent the song of the species which it may be in the habit of hearing? now for a more troublesome point. i find it very necessary to make out relation of immature plumage to adult plumage, both when the sexes differ and are alike in the adult state. therefore, i want much to learn about the first plumage (answering, for instance, to the speckled state of the robin before it acquires the red breast) of the several varieties of the canary. can you help me? what is the character or colour of the first plumage of bright yellow or mealy canaries which breed true to these tints? so with the mottled-brown canaries, for i believe that there are breeds which always come brown and mottled. lastly, in the "prize-canaries," which have black wing- and tail-feathers during their first (?) plumage, what colours are the wings and tails after the first (?) moult or when adult? i should be particularly glad to learn this. heaven have mercy on you, for it is clear that i have none. i am going to investigate this same point with all the breeds of fowls, as mr. tegetmeier will procure for me young birds, about two months old, of all the breeds. in the course of this next month i hope you will come down here on the saturday and stay over the sunday. some months ago mr. bates said he would pay me a visit during june, and i have thought it would be pleasanter for you to come here when i can get him, so that you would have a companion if i get knocked up, as is sadly too often my bad habit and great misfortune. did you ever hear of the existence of any sub-breed of the canary in which the male differs in plumage from the female? letter . to f. muller. down, june rd [ ]. your letter of april nd has much interested me. i am delighted that you approve of my book, for i value your opinion more than that of almost any one. i have yet hopes that you will think well of pangenesis. i feel sure that our minds are somewhat alike, and i find it a great relief to have some definite, though hypothetical view, when i reflect on the wonderful transformations of animals, the re-growth of parts, and especially the direct action of pollen on the mother form, etc. it often appears to me almost certain that the characters of the parents are "photographed" on the child, only by means of material atoms derived from each cell in both parents, and developed in the child. i am sorry about the mistake in regard to leptotes. ( / . see "animals and plants," edition i., volume ii., page , where it is stated that oncidium is fertile with leptotes, a mistake corrected in the nd edition.) i daresay it was my fault, yet i took pains to avoid such blunders. many thanks for all the curious facts about the unequal number of the sexes in crustacea, but the more i investigate this subject the deeper i sink in doubt and difficulty. thanks, also, for the confirmation of the rivalry of cicadae. ( / . see "descent of man," edition i., volume i., page , for f. muller's observations; and for a reference to landois' paper.) i have often reflected with surprise on the diversity of the means for producing music with insects, and still more with birds. we thus get a high idea of the importance of song in the animal kingdom. please to tell me where i can find any account of the auditory organs in the orthoptera? your facts are quite new to me. scudder has described an annectant insect in devonian strata, furnished with a stridulating apparatus. ( / . the insect is no doubt xenoneura antiquorum, from the devonian rocks of new brunswick. scudder compared a peculiar feature in the wing of this species to the stridulating apparatus of the locustariae, but afterwards stated that he had been led astray in his original description, and that there was no evidence in support of the comparison with a stridulating organ. see the "devonian insects of new brunswick," reprinted in s.h. scudder's "fossil insects of n. america," volume i., page , new york, .) i believe he is to be trusted, and if so the apparatus is of astonishing antiquity. after reading landois' paper i have been working at the stridulating organ in the lamellicorn beetles, in expectation of finding it sexual, but i have only found it as yet in two cases, and in these it was equally developed in both sexes. i wish you would look at any of your common lamellicorns and take hold of both males and females and observe whether they make the squeaking or grating noise equally. if they do not, you could perhaps send me a male and female in a light little box. how curious it is that there should be a special organ for an object apparently so unimportant as squeaking. here is another point: have you any toucans? if so, ask any trustworthy hunter whether the beaks of the males, or of both sexes, are more brightly coloured during the breeding season than at other times of the year? i have also to thank you for a previous letter of april rd, with some interesting facts on the variation of maize, the sterility of bignonia and on conspicuous seeds. heaven knows whether i shall ever live to make use of half the valuable facts which you have communicated to me... letter . to j. jenner weir. down, june th [ ]. many thanks. i am glad that you mentioned the linnet, for i had much difficulty in persuading myself that the crimson breast could be due to change in the old feathers, as the books say. i am glad to hear of the retribution of the wicked old she-bullfinch. you remember telling me how many weirs and jenners have been naturalists; now this morning i have been putting together all my references about one bird of a pair being killed, and a new mate being soon found; you, jenner weir, have given me some most striking cases with starlings; dr. jenner gives the most curious case of all in "philosophical transactions" ( / . "phil. trans." .), and a mr. weir gives the next most striking in macgillivray. ( / . macgillivray's "history of british birds," volume i., page . see "descent of man" ( ), page .) now, is this not odd? pray remember how very glad we shall be to see you here whenever you can come. did some ancient progenitor of the weirs and jenners puzzle his brains about the mating of birds, and has the question become indelibly fixed in all your minds? letter . to a.r. wallace. august th [ ]. i had become, before my nine weeks' horrid interruption of all work, extremely interested in sexual selection, and was making fair progress. in truth it has vexed me much to find that the farther i get on the more i differ from you about the females being dull-coloured for protection. i can now hardly express myself as strongly, even, as in the "origin." this has much decreased the pleasure of my work. in the course of september, if i can get at all stronger, i hope to get mr. j. jenner weir (who has been wonderfully kind in giving me information) to pay me a visit, and i will then write for the chance of your being able to come, and i hope bring with you mrs. wallace. if i could get several of you together it would be less dull for you, for of late i have found it impossible to talk with any human being for more than half an hour, except on extraordinary good days. ( / . on september th darwin wrote to wallace on the same subject:--) you will be pleased to hear that i am undergoing severe distress about protection and sexual selection; this morning i oscillated with joy towards you; this evening i have swung back to the old position, out of which i fear i shall never get. letter . to a.r. wallace. ( / . from "life and letters," volume iii., page .) down, september rd [ ]. i am very much obliged for all your trouble in writing me your long letter, which i will keep by me and ponder over. to answer it would require at least folio pages! if you could see how often i have rewritten some pages you would know how anxious i am to arrive as near as i can to the truth. i lay great stress on what i know takes place under domestication; i think we start with different fundamental notions on inheritance. i find it is most difficult, but not, i think, impossible to see how, for instance, a few red feathers appearing on the head of a male bird, and which are at first transmitted to both sexes, would come to be transmitted to males alone. it is not enough that females should be produced from the males with red feathers, which should be destitute of red feathers; but these females must have a latent tendency to produce such feathers, otherwise they would cause deterioration in the red head-feathers of their male offspring. such latent tendency would be shown by their producing the red feathers when old, or diseased in their ovaria. but i have no difficulty in making the whole head red if the few red feathers in the male from the first tended to be sexually transmitted. i am quite willing to admit that the female may have been modified, either at the same time or subsequently, for protection by the accumulation of variations limited in their transmission to the female sex. i owe to your writings the consideration of this latter point. but i cannot yet persuade myself that females alone have often been modified for protection. should you grudge the trouble briefly to tell me, whether you believe that the plainer head and less bright colours of female chaffinch, the less red on the head and less clean colours of female goldfinch, the much less red on the breast of the female bullfinch, the paler crest of golden-crested wren, etc., have been acquired by them for protection? i cannot think so, any more than i can that the considerable differences between female and male house-sparrow, or much greater brightness of male parus caeruleus (both of which build under cover) than of female parus, are related to protection. i even misdoubt much whether the less blackness of female blackbird is for protection. again, can you give me reasons for believing that the moderate differences between the female pheasant, the female gallus bankiva, the female of black grouse, the pea-hen, the female partridge, have all special references to protection under slightly different conditions? i, of course, admit that they are all protected by dull colours, derived, as i think, from some dull-ground progenitor; and i account partly for their difference by partial transference of colour from the male, and by other means too long to specify; but i earnestly wish to see reason to believe that each is specially adapted for concealment to its environment. i grieve to differ from you, and it actually terrifies me and makes me constantly distrust myself. i fear we shall never quite understand each other. i value the cases of bright-coloured, incubating male fisher, and brilliant female butterflies, solely as showing that one sex may be made brilliant without any necessary transference of beauty to the other sex; for in these cases i cannot suppose that beauty in the other sex was checked by selection. i fear this letter will trouble you to read it. a very short answer about your belief in regard to the female finches and gallinaceae would suffice. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. , st. mark's crescent, n.w., september th, . your view seems to be that variations occurring in one sex are transmitted either to that sex exclusively or to both sexes equally, or more rarely partially transferred. but we have every gradation of sexual colours, from total dissimilarity to perfect identity. if this is explained solely by the laws of inheritance, then the colours of one or other sex will be always (in relation to the environment) a matter of chance. i cannot think this. i think selection more powerful than laws of inheritance, of which it makes use, as shown by cases of two, three or four forms of female butterflies, all of which have, i have little doubt, been specialised for protection. to answer your first question is most difficult, if not impossible, because we have no sufficient evidence in individual cases of slight sexual difference, to determine whether the male alone has acquired his superior brightness by sexual selection, or the female been made duller by need of protection, or whether the two causes have acted. many of the sexual differences of existing species may be inherited differences from parent forms, which existed under different conditions and had greater or less need of protection. i think i admitted before, the general tendency (probably) of males to acquire brighter tints. yet this cannot be universal, for many female birds and quadrupeds have equally bright tints. to your second question i can reply more decidedly. i do think the females of the gallinaceae you mention have been modified or been prevented from acquiring the brighter plumage of the male, by need of protection. i know that the gallus bankiva frequents drier and more open situations than the pea-hen of java, which is found among grassy and leafy vegetation, corresponding with the colours of the two. so the argus pheasant, male and female, are, i feel sure, protected by their tints corresponding to the dead leaves of the lofty forest in which they dwell, and the female of the gorgeous fire-back pheasant lophura viellottii is of a very similar rich brown colour. i do not, however, at all think the question can be settled by individual cases, but by only large masses of facts. the colours of the mass of female birds seem to me strictly analogous to the colours of both sexes of snipes, woodcocks, plovers, etc., which are undoubtedly protective. now, supposing, on your view, that the colours of a male bird become more and more brilliant by sexual selection, and a good deal of that colour is transmitted to the female till it becomes positively injurious to her during incubation, and the race is in danger of extinction; do you not think that all the females who had acquired less of the male's bright colours, or who themselves varied in a protective direction, would be preserved, and that thus a good protective colouring would soon be acquired? if you admit that this could occur, and can show no good reason why it should not often occur, then we no longer differ, for this is the main point of my view. have you ever thought of the red wax-tips of the bombycilla beautifully imitating the red fructification of lichens used in the nest, and therefore the females have it too? yet this is a very sexual-looking character. if sexes have been differentiated entirely by sexual selection the females can have no relation to environment. but in groups when both sexes require protection during feeding or repose, as snipes, woodcock, ptarmigan, desert birds and animals, green forest birds, etc., arctic birds of prey, and animals, then both sexes are modified for protection. why should that power entirely cease to act when sexual differentiation exists and when the female requires protection, and why should the colour of so many female birds seem to be protective, if it has not been made protective by selection. it is contrary to the principles of "origin of species," that colour should have been produced in both sexes by sexual selection and never have been modified to bring the female into harmony with the environment. "sexual selection is less rigorous than natural selection," and will therefore be subordinate to it. i think the case of female pieris pyrrha proves that females alone can be greatly modified for protection. ( / . my latest views on this subject, with many new facts and arguments, will be found in the later editions of my "darwinism," chapter x. (a.r.w.)) letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. ( / . on october th, , mr. wallace wrote again on the same subject without adding anything of importance to his arguments of september th. we give his final remarks:--) october th, . i am sorry to find that our difference of opinion on this point is a source of anxiety to you. pray do not let it be so. the truth will come out at last, and our difference may be the means of setting others to work who may set us both right. after all, this question is only an episode (though an important one) in the great question of the "origin of species," and whether you or i are right will not at all affect the main doctrine--that is one comfort. i hope you will publish your treatise on "sexual selection" as a separate book as soon as possible; and then, while you are going on with your other work, there will no doubt be found some one to battle with me over your facts on this hard problem. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, october th [ ]. your letter is very valuable to me, and in every way very kind. i will not inflict a long answer, but only answer your queries. there are breeds (viz. hamburg) in which both sexes differ much from each other and from both sexes of gallus bankiva; and both sexes are kept constant by selection. the comb of the spanish male has been ordered to be upright, and that of spanish female to lop over, and this has been effected. there are sub-breeds of game fowl, with females very distinct and males almost identical; but this, apparently, is the result of spontaneous variation, without special selection. i am very glad to hear of case of female birds of paradise. i have never in the least doubted possibility of modifying female birds alone for protection, and i have long believed it for butterflies. i have wanted only evidence for the female alone of birds having had their colour modified for protection. but then i believe that the variations by which a female bird or butterfly could get or has got protective colouring have probably from the first been variations limited in their transmission to the female sex. and so with the variations of the male: when the male is more beautiful than the female, i believe the variations were sexually limited in their transmission to the males. letter . to b.d. walsh. down, october st, . ( / . a short account of the periodical cicada (c. septendecim) is given by dr. sharp in the cambridge natural history, insects ii., page . we are indebted to dr. sharp for calling our attention to mr. c.l. marlatt's full account of the insect in "bulletin no. [ns.] of the u.s. department of agriculture," . the cicada lives for long periods underground as larva and pupa, so that swarms of the adults of one race (septendecim) appear at intervals of years, while those of the southern form or race (tredecim) appear at intervals of years. this fact was first made out by phares in , but was overlooked or forgotten, and was only re-discovered by walsh and riley in , who published a joint paper in the "american entomologist," volume i., page . walsh appears to have adhered to the view that the - and -year forms are distinct species, though, as we gather from marlatt's paper (page ), he published a letter to mr. darwin in which he speaks of the -year form as an incipient species; see "index to missouri entomolog. reports bull. ," u.s.e.c., page (as given by marlatt). with regard to the cause of the difference in period of the two forms, marlatt (pages , ) refers doubtfully to difference of temperature as the determining factor. experiments have been instituted by moving -year eggs to the south, and vice versa with -year eggs. the results were, however, not known at the time of publication of marlatt's paper.) i am very much obliged for the extracts about the "drumming," which will be of real use to me. i do not at all know what to think of your extraordinary case of the cicadas. professor asa gray and dr. hooker were staying here, and i told them of the facts. they thought that the -year and the -year forms ought not to be ranked as distinct species, unless other differences besides the period of development could be discovered. they thought the mere rarity of variability in such a point was not sufficient, and i think i concur with them. the fact of both the forms presenting the same case of dimorphism is very curious. i have long wished that some one would dissect the forms of the male stag-beetle with smaller mandibles, and see if they were well developed, i.e., whether there was an abundance of spermatozoa; and the same observations ought, i think, to be made on the rarer form of your cicada. could you not get some observer, such as dr. hartman ( / . mr. walsh sent mr. darwin an extract from dr. hartman's "journal of the doings of a cicada septendecim," in which the females are described as flocking round the drumming males. "descent of man" ( ), page .), to note whether the females flocked in equal numbers to the "drumming" of the rarer form as to the common form? you have a very curious and perplexing subject of investigation, and i wish you success in your work. letter . to a.r. wallace. down, june th [ ?]. you must not suppose from my delay that i have not been much interested by your long letter. i write now merely to thank you, and just to say that probably you are right on all the points you touch on, except, as i think, about sexual selection, which i will not give up. my belief in it, however, is contingent on my general belief in sexual selection. it is an awful stretcher to believe that a peacock's tail was thus formed; but, believing it, i believe in the same principle somewhat modified applied to man. letter . to g.h.k. thwaites. down, february th [n.d.] i wrote a little time ago asking you an odd question about elephants, and now i am going to ask you an odder. i hope that you will not think me an intolerable bore. it is most improbable that you could get me an answer, but i ask on mere chance. macacus silenus ( / . macacus silenus l., an indian ape.) has a great mane of hair round neck, and passing into large whiskers and beard. now what i want most especially to know is whether these monkeys, when they fight in confinement (and i have seen it stated that they are sometimes kept in confinement), are protected from bites by this mane and beard. any one who watched them fighting would, i think, be able to judge on this head. my object is to find out with various animals how far the mane is of any use, or a mere ornament. is the male macacus silenus furnished with longer hair than the female about the neck and face? as i said, it is a hundred or a thousand to one against your finding out any one who has kept these monkeys in confinement. letter . to f. muller. down, august th [ ]. i have to thank you very sincerely for two letters: one of april th, containing a very curious account of the structure and morphology of bonatea. i feel that it is quite a sin that your letters should not all be published! but, in truth, i have no spare strength to undertake any extra work, which, though slight, would follow from seeing your letters in english through the press--not but that you write almost as clearly as any englishman. this same letter also contained some seeds for mr. farrer, which he was very glad to receive. your second letter, of july th, was chiefly devoted to mimicry in lepidoptera: many of your remarks seem to me so good, that i have forwarded your letter to mr. bates; but he is out of london having his summer holiday, and i have not yet heard from him. your remark about imitators and imitated being of such different sizes, and the lower surface of the wings not being altered in colour, strike me as the most curious points. i should not be at all surprised if your suggestion about sexual selection were to prove true; but it seems rather too speculative to be introduced in my book, more especially as my book is already far too speculative. the very same difficulty about brightly coloured caterpillars had occurred to me, and you will see in my book what, i believe, is the true explanation from wallace. the same view probably applies in part to gaudy butterflies. my ms. is sent to the printers, and, i suppose, will be published in about three months: of course i will send you a copy. by the way, i settled with murray recently with respect to your book ( / . the translation of "fur darwin," published in .), and had to pay him only pounds shillings pence, which i consider a very small price for the dissemination of your views; he has copies as yet unsold. this most terrible war will stop all science in france and germany for a long time. i have heard from nobody in germany, and know not whether your brother, hackel, gegenbaur, victor carus, or my other friends are serving in the army. dohrn has joined a cavalry regiment. i have not yet met a soul in england who does not rejoice in the splendid triumph of germany over france ( / . see letter , volume i.): it is a most just retribution against that vainglorious, war-liking nation. as the posts are all in confusion, i will not send this letter through france. the editor has sent me duplicate copies of the "revue des cours scientifiques," which contain several articles about my views; so i send you copies for the chance of your liking to see them. letter . a.r. wallace to charles darwin. holly house, barking, e., january th, . many thanks for your first volume ( / . "the descent of man".), which i have just finished reading through with the greatest pleasure and interest; and i have also to thank you for the great tenderness with which you have treated me and my heresies. on the subject of "sexual selection" and "protection," you do not yet convince me that i am wrong; but i expect your heaviest artillery will be brought up in your second volume, and i may have to capitulate. you seem, however, to have somewhat misunderstood my exact meaning, and i do not think the difference between us is quite so great as you seem to think it. there are a number of passages in which you argue against the view that the female has in any large number of cases been "specially modified" for protection, or that colour has generally been obtained by either sex for purposes of protection. but my view is, as i thought i had made it clear, that the female has (in most cases) been simply prevented from acquiring the gay tints of the male (even when there was a tendency for her to inherit it), because it was hurtful; and that, when protection is not needed, gay colours are so generally acquired by both sexes as to show that inheritance by both sexes of colour variations is the most usual, when not prevented from acting by natural selection. the colour itself may be acquired either by sexual selection or by other unknown causes. there are, however, difficulties in the very wide application you give to sexual selection which at present stagger me, though no one was or is more ready than myself to admit the perfect truth of the principle or the immense importance and great variety of its applications. your chapters on "man" are of intense interest--but as touching my special heresy, not as yet altogether convincing, though, of course, i fully agree with every word and every argument which goes to prove the "evolution" or "development" of man out of a lower form. my only difficulties are, as to whether you have accounted for every step of the development by ascertained laws. i feel sure that the book will keep up and increase your high reputation, and be immensely successful, as it deserves to be... letter . to g.b. murdoch. down, march th, . ( / . we are indebted to mr. murdoch for a draft of his letter dated march th, . it is too long to be quoted at length; the following citations give some idea of its contents: "in your 'descent of man,' in treating of the external differences between males and females of the same variety, have you attached sufficient importance to the different amount and kind of energy expended by them in reproduction?" mr. murdoch sums up: "is it wrong, then, to suppose that extra growth, complicated structure, and activity in one sex exist as escape-valves for surplus vigour, rather than to please or fight with, though they may serve these purposes and be modified by them?") i am much obliged for your valuable letter. i am strongly inclined to think that i have made a great and complete oversight with respect to the subject which you discuss. i am the more surprised at this, as i remember reflecting on some points which ought to have led me to your conclusion. by an odd chance i received the day before yesterday a letter from mr. lowne (author of an excellent book on the anatomy of the blow-fly) ( / . "the anatomy and physiology of the blow-fly (musca vomitaria l.)," by b.t. lowne. london, .) with a discussion very nearly to the same effect as yours. his conclusions were drawn from studying male insects with great horns, mandibles, etc. he informs me that his paper on this subject will soon be published in the "transact. entomolog. society." ( / . "observations on immature sexuality and alternate generation in insects." by b.t. lowne. "trans. entomolog. soc." [read march th, ]. "i believe that certain cutaneous appendages, as the gigantic mandibles and thoracic horns of many males, are complemental to the sexual organs; that, in point of fact, they are produced by the excess of nutriment in the male, which in the female would go to form the generative organs and ova" (loc. cit., page ).) i am inclined to look at your and mr. lowne's view as specially valuable from probably throwing light on the greater variability of male than female animals, which manifestly has much bearing on sexual selection. i will keep your remarks in mind whenever a new edition of my book is demanded. letter . to george fraser. ( / . the following letter refers to two letters to mr. darwin, in which mr. fraser pointed out that illustrations of the theory of sexual selection might be found amongst british butterflies and moths. mr. fraser, in explanation of the letters, writes: "as an altogether unknown and far from experienced naturalist, i feared to send my letters for publication without, in the first place, obtaining mr. darwin's approval." the information was published in "nature," volume iii., april th, , page . the article was referred to in the second edition of the "descent of man" ( ), pages , , . mr. fraser adds: "this is only another illustration of mr. darwin's great conscientiousness in acknowledging suggestions received by him from the most humble sources." (letter from mr. fraser to f. darwin, march , .) down, april th [ ]. i am very much obliged for your letter and the interesting facts which it contains, and which are new to me. but i am at present so much engaged with other subjects that i cannot fully consider them; and, even if i had time, i do not suppose that i should have anything to say worth printing in a scientific journal. it would obviously be absurd in me to allow a mere note of thanks from me to be printed. whenever i have to bring out a corrected edition of my book i will well consider your remarks (which i hope that you will send to "nature"), but the difficulty will be that my friends tell me that i have already introduced too many facts, and that i ought to prune rather than to introduce more. letter . to e.s. morse. down, december rd, . i am much obliged to you for having sent me your two interesting papers, and for the kind writing on the cover. i am very glad to have my error corrected about the protective colouring of shells. ( / . "on adaptive coloration of the mollusca," "boston society of natural history proc." volume xiv., april th, . mr. morse quotes from the "descent of man," i., page , a passage to the effect that the colours of the mollusca do not in general appear to be protective. mr. morse goes on to give instances of protective coloration.) it is no excuse for my broad statement, but i had in my mind the species which are brightly or beautifully coloured, and i can as yet hardly think that the colouring in such cases is protective. letter . to aug. weismann. down, february th, . i am rejoiced to hear that your eyesight is somewhat better; but i fear that work with the microscope is still out of your power. i have often thought with sincere sympathy how much you must have suffered from your grand line of embryological research having been stopped. it was very good of you to use your eyes in writing to me. i have just received your essay ( / . "ueber der einfluss der isolirung auf die artbildung": leipzig, .); but as i am now staying in london for the sake of rest, and as german is at all times very difficult to me, i shall not be able to read your essay for some little time. i am, however, very curious to learn what you have to say on isolation and on periods of variation. i thought much about isolation when i wrote in chapter iv. on the circumstances favourable to natural selection. no doubt there remains an immense deal of work to do on "artbildung." i have only opened a path for others to enter, and in the course of time to make a broad and clear high-road. i am especially glad that you are turning your attention to sexual selection. i have in this country hardly found any naturalists who agree with me on this subject, even to a moderate extent. they think it absurd that a female bird should be able to appreciate the splendid plumage of the male; but it would take much to persuade me that the peacock does not spread his gorgeous tail in the presence of the female in order to fascinate or excite her. the case, no doubt, is much more difficult with insects. i fear that you will find it difficult to experiment on diurnal lepidoptera in confinement, for i have never heard of any of these breeding in this state. ( / . we are indebted to mr. bateson for the following note: "this belief does not seem to be well founded, for since darwin's time several species of rhopalocera (e.g. pieris, pararge, caenonympha) have been successfully bred in confinement without any special difficulty; and by the use of large cages members even of strong-flying genera, such as vanessa, have been induced to breed.") i was extremely pleased at hearing from fritz muller that he liked my chapter on lepidoptera in the "descent of man" more than any other part, excepting the chapter on morals. letter . to h. muller. down [may, ]. i have now read with the greatest interest your essay, which contains a vast amount of matter quite new to me. ( / . "anwendung der darwin'schen lehre auf bienen," "verhandl. d. naturhist. vereins fur preuss. rheinld. u. westf." . references to muller's paper occur in the second edition of the "descent of man.") i really have no criticisms or suggestions to offer. the perfection of the gradation in the character of bees, especially in such important parts as the mouth-organs, was altogether unknown to me. you bring out all such facts very clearly by your comparison with the corresponding organs in the allied hymenoptera. how very curious is the case of bees and wasps having acquired, independently of inheritance from a common source, the habit of building hexagonal cells and of producing sterile workers! but i have been most interested by your discussion on secondary sexual differences; i do not suppose so full an account of such differences in any other group of animals has ever been published. it delights me to find that we have independently arrived at almost exactly the same conclusion with respect to the more important points deserving investigation in relation to sexual selection. for instance, the relative number of the two sexes, the earlier emergence of the males, the laws of inheritance, etc. what an admirable illustration you give of the transference of characters acquired by one sex--namely, that of the male of bombus possessing the pollen-collecting apparatus. many of your facts about the differences between male and female bees are surprisingly parallel with those which occur with birds. the reading your essay has given me great confidence in the efficacy of sexual selection, and i wanted some encouragement, as extremely few naturalists in england seem inclined to believe in it. i am, however, glad to find that prof. weismann has some faith in this principle. the males of bombus follow one remarkable habit, which i think it would interest you to investigate this coming summer, and no one could do it better than you. ( / . mr. darwin's observations on this curious subject were sent to hermann muller, and after his death were translated and published in krause's "gesammelte kleinere schriften von charles darwin," , page . the male bees had certain regular lines of flight at down, as from the end of the kitchen garden to the corner of the "sand-walk," and certain regular "buzzing places" where they stopped on the wing for a moment or two. mr. darwin's children remember vividly the pleasure of helping in the investigation of this habit.) i have therefore enclosed a briefly and roughly drawn-up account of this habit. should you succeed in making any observations on this subject, and if you would like to use in any way my ms. you are perfectly welcome. i could, should you hereafter wish to make any use of the facts, give them in rather fuller detail; but i think that i have given enough. i hope that you may long have health, leisure, and inclination to do much more work as excellent as your recent essay. .viii.iii. expression, - . letter . to f. muller. down, january th [ ]. i am very much obliged for your answers, though few in number (october th), about expression. i was especially glad to hear about shrugging the shoulders. you say that an old negro woman, when expressing astonishment, wonderfully resembled a cebus when astonished; but are you sure that the cebus opened its mouth? i ask because the chimpanzee does not open its mouth when astonished, or when listening. ( / . darwin in the "expression of the emotions," adheres to this statement as being true of monkeys in general.) please have the kindness to remember that i am very anxious to know whether any monkey, when screaming violently, partially or wholly closes its eyes. letter . to w. bowman. ( / . the late sir w. bowman, the well-known surgeon, supplied a good deal of information of value to darwin in regard to the expression of the emotions. the gorging of the eyes with blood during screaming is an important factor in the physiology of weeping, and indirectly in the obliquity of the eyebrows--a characteristic expression of suffering. see "expression of the emotions," pages and .) down, march th [ ]. i called at your house about three weeks since, and heard that you were away for the whole month, which i much regretted, as i wished to have had the pleasure of seeing you, of asking you a question, and of thanking you for your kindness to my son george. you did not quite understand the last note which i wrote to you--viz., about bell's precise statement that the conjunctiva of an infant or young child becomes gorged with blood when the eyes are forcibly opened during a screaming fit. ( / . sir c. bell's statement in his "anatomy of expression" ( , page ) is quoted in the "expression of the emotions," page .) i have carefully kept your previous note, in which you spoke doubtfully about bell's statement. i intended in my former note only to express a wish that if, during your professional work, you were led to open the eyelids of a screaming child, you would specially observe this point about the eye showing signs of becoming gorged with blood, which interests me extremely. could you ask any one to observe this for me in an eye-dispensary or hospital? but i now have to beg you kindly to consider one other question at any time when you have half an hour's leisure. when a man coughs violently from choking or retches violently, even when he yawns, and when he laughs violently, tears come into the eyes. now, in all these cases i observe that the orbicularis muscle is more or less spasmodically contracted, as also in the crying of a child. so, again, when the muscles of the abdomen contract violently in a propelling manner, and the breath is, i think, always held, as during the evacuation of a very costive man, and as (i hear) with a woman during severe labour-pains, the orbicularis contracts, and tears come into the eyes. sir j.e. tennant states that tears roll down the cheeks of elephants when screaming and trumpeting at first being captured; accordingly i went to the zoological gardens, and the keeper made two elephants trumpet, and when they did this violently the orbicularis was invariably plainly contracted. hence i am led to conclude that there must be some relation between the contraction of this muscle and the secretion of tears. can you tell me what this relation is? does the orbicularis press against, and so directly stimulate, the lachrymal gland? as a slight blow on the eye causes, by reflex action, a copious effusion of tears, can the slight spasmodic contraction of the orbicularis act like a blow? this seems hardly possible. does the same nerve which runs to the orbicularis send off fibrils to the lachrymal glands; and if so, when the order goes for the muscle to contract, is nervous force sent sympathetically at the same time to the glands? ( / . see "expression of the emotions," page .) i should be extremely much obliged if you [would] have the kindness to give me your opinion on this point. letter . to f.c. donders. ( / . mr. darwin was indebted to sir w. bowman for an introduction to professor donders, whose work on sir charles bell's views is quoted in the "expression of the emotions," pages - .) down, june rd [ ?]. i do not know how to thank you enough for the very great trouble which you have taken in writing at such length, and for your kind expressions towards me. i am particularly obliged for the abstract with respect to sir c. bell's views ( / . see "expression of the emotions," pages et seq.: sir charles bell's view is that adopted by darwin--viz. that the contraction of the muscles round the eyes counteracts the gorging of the parts during screaming, etc. the essay of donders is, no doubt, "on the action of the eyelids in determination of blood from expiratory effort" in beale's "archives of medicine," volume v., , page , which is a translation of the original in dutch.), as i shall now proceed with some confidence; but i am intensely curious to read your essay in full when translated and published, as i hope, in the "dublin journal," as you speak of the weak point in the case--viz., that injuries are not known to follow from the gorging of the eye with blood. i may mention that my son and his friend at a military academy tell me that when they perform certain feats with their heads downwards their faces become purple and veins distended, and that they then feel an uncomfortable sensation in their eyes; but that as it is necessary for them to see, they cannot protect their eyes by closing the eyelids. the companions of one young man, who naturally has very prominent eyes, used to laugh at him when performing such feats, and declare that some day both eyes would start out of his head. your essay on the physiological and anatomical relations between the contraction of the orbicular muscles and the secretion of tears is wonderfully clear, and has interested me greatly. i had not thought about irritating substances getting into the nose during vomiting; but my clear impression is that mere retching causes tears. i will, however, try to get this point ascertained. when i reflect that in vomiting (subject to the above doubt), in violent coughing from choking, in yawning, violent laughter, in the violent downward action of the abdominal muscle...and in your very curious case of the spasms ( / . in some cases a slight touch to the eye causes spasms of the orbicularis muscle, which may continue for so long as an hour, being accompanied by a flow of tears. see "expression of the emotions," page .)--that in all these cases the orbicular muscles are strongly and unconsciously contracted, and that at the same time tears often certainly flow, i must think that there is a connection of some kind between these phenomena; but you have clearly shown me that the nature of the relation is at present quite obscure. letter . to a.d. bartlett. , queen anne street, w., december th [ ?]. i was with mr. wood this morning, and he expressed himself strongly about your and your daughter's kindness in aiding him. he much wants assistance on another point, and if you would aid him, you would greatly oblige me. you know well the appearance of a dog when approaching another dog with hostile intentions, before they come close together. the dog walks very stiffly, with tail rigid and upright, hair on back erected, ears pointed and eyes directed forwards. when the dog attacks the other, down go the ears, and the canines are uncovered. now, could you anyhow arrange so that one of your dogs could see a strange dog from a little distance, so that mr. wood could sketch the former attitude, viz., of the stiff gesture with erected hair and erected ears. ( / . in chapter ii. of the "expression of the emotions" there are sketches of dogs in illustration of the "principle of antithesis," drawn by mr. riviere and by mr. a. may (figures - ). mr. t.w. wood supplied similar drawings of a cat (figures , ), also a sketch of the head of a snarling dog (figure ).) and then he could afterwards sketch the same dog, when fondled by his master and wagging his tail with drooping ears. these two sketches i want much, and it would be a great favour to mr. wood, and myself, if you could aid him. p.s.--when a horse is turned out into a field he trots with high, elastic steps, and carries his tail aloft. even when a cow frisks about she throws up her tail. i have seen a drawing of an elephant, apparently trotting with high steps, and with the tail erect. when the elephants in the garden are turned out and are excited so as to move quickly, do they carry their tails aloft? how is this with the rhinoceros? do not trouble yourself to answer this, but i shall be in london in a couple of months, and then perhaps you will be able to answer this trifling question. or, if you write about wolves and jackals turning round, you can tell me about the tails of elephants, or of any other animals. ( / . in the "expression of the emotions," page , reference is made under the head of "associated habitual movements in the lower animals," to dogs and other animals turning round and round and scratching the ground with their fore-paws when they wish to go to sleep on a carpet, or other similar surface.) letter . to a.d. bartlett. down, january th, [ ?] many thanks about limulus. i am going to ask another favour, but i do not want to trouble you to answer it by letter. when the callithrix sciureus screams violently, does it wrinkle up the skin round the eyes like a baby always does? ( / . "humboldt also asserts that the eyes of the callithrix sciureus 'instantly fill with tears when it is seized with fear'; but when this pretty little monkey in the zoological gardens was teased, so as to cry out loudly, this did not occur. i do not, however, wish to throw the least doubt on the accuracy of humboldt's statement." ("the expression of the emotions in man and animals," , page .) when thus screaming do the eyes become suffused with moisture? will you ask sutton to observe carefully? ( / . one of the keepers who made many observations on monkeys for mr. darwin.) could you make it scream without hurting it much? i should be truly obliged some time for this information, when in spring i come to the gardens. letter . to w. ogle. down, march th [ ]. i wrote to tyndall, but had no clear answer, and have now written to him again about odours. ( / . dr. ogle's work on the sense of smell ("medico-chirurgical trans." liii., page ) is referred to in the "expression of the emotions," page .) i write now to ask you to be so kind (if there is no objection) to tell me the circumstances under which you saw a man arrested for murder. ( / . given in the "expression of the emotions," page .) i say in my notes made from your conversation: utmost horror--extreme pallor--mouth relaxed and open--general prostration--perspiration--muscle of face contracted--hair observed on account of having been dyed, and apparently not erected. secondly, may i quote you that you have often (?) seen persons (young or old? men or women?) who, evincing no great fear, were about to undergo severe operation under chloroform, showing resignation by (alternately?) folding one open hand over the other on the lower part of chest (whilst recumbent?)--i know this expression, and think i ought to notice it. could you look out for an additional instance? i fear you will think me very troublesome, especially when i remind you (not that i am in a hurry) about the eustachian tube. letter . to j. jenner weir. down, june th [ ]. as usual, i am going to beg for information. can you tell me whether any fringillidae or sylviadae erect their feathers when frightened or enraged? ( / . see "expression of the emotions," page .) i want to show that this expression is common to all or most of the families of birds. i know of this only in the fowl, swan, tropic-bird, owl, ruff and reeve, and cuckoo. i fancy that i remember having seen nestling birds erect their feathers greatly when looking into nests, as is said to be the case with young cuckoos. i should much like to know whether nestlings do really thus erect their feathers. i am now at work on expression in animals of all kinds, and birds; and if you have any hints i should be very glad for them, and you have a rich wealth of facts of all kinds. any cases like the following: the sheldrake pats or dances on the tidal sands to make the sea-worms come out; and when mr. st. john's tame sheldrakes came to ask for their dinners they used to pat the ground, and this i should call an expression of hunger and impatience. how about the quagga case? ( / . see letter , volume i.) i am working away as hard as i can on my book; but good heavens, how slow my progress is. letter . to f.c. donders. down, march th, . very many thanks for your kind letter. i have been interested by what you tell me about your views published in , and i wish i could read your essay. it is clear to me that you were as near as possible in preceding me on the subject of natural selection. you will find very little that is new to you in my last book; whatever merit it may possess consists in the grouping of the facts and in deductions from them. i am now at work on my essay on expression. my last book fatigued me much, and i have had much correspondence, otherwise i should have written to you long ago, as i often intended to tell you in how high a degree your essay published in beale's archives interested me. ( / . beale's "archives of medicine," volume v., .) i have heard others express their admiration at the complete manner in which you have treated the subject. your confirmation of sir c. bell's rather loose statement has been of paramount importance for my work. ( / . on the contraction of the muscles surrounding the eye. see "expression of the emotions," page . see letters , .) you told me that i might make further enquiries from you. when a person is lost in meditation his eyes often appear as if fixed on a distant object ( / . the appearance is due to divergence of the lines of vision produced by muscular relaxation. see "expression of the emotions," edition ii., page .), and the lower eyelids may be seen to contract and become wrinkled. i suppose the idea is quite fanciful, but as you say that the eyeball advances in adaptation for vision for close objects, would the eyeball have to be pushed backwards in adaptation for distant objects? ( / . darwin seems to have misunderstood a remark of donders.) if so, can the wrinkling of the lower eyelids, which has often perplexed me, act in pushing back the eyeball? but, as i have said, i daresay this is quite fanciful. gratiolet says that the pupil contracts in rage, and dilates enormously in terror. ( / . see "expression of the emotions," edition ii., page .) i have not found this great anatomist quite trustworthy on such points, and am making enquiries on this subject. but i am inclined to believe him, as the old scotch anatomist munro says, that the iris of parrots contracts and dilates under passions, independently of the amount of light. can you give any explanation of this statement? when the heart beats hard and quick, and the head becomes somewhat congested with blood in any illness, does the pupil contract? does the pupil dilate in incipient faintness, or in utter prostration, as when after a severe race a man is pallid, bathed in perspiration, with all his muscles quivering? or in extreme prostration from any illness? letter . to w. turner. down, march th [ ]. i am much obliged for your kind note, and especially for your offer of sending me some time corrections, for which i shall be truly grateful. i know that there are many blunders to which i am very liable. there is a terrible one confusing the supra-condyloid foramen with another one. ( / . in the first edition of the "descent of man," i., page , in quoting mr. busk "on the caves of gibraltar," mr. darwin confuses together the inter-condyloid foramen in the humerus with the supra-condyloid foramen. his attention was called to the mistake by sir william turner, to whom he had been previously indebted for other information on the anatomy of man. the error is one, as sir william turner points out in a letter, "which might easily arise where the writer is not minutely acquainted with human anatomy." in speaking of his correspondence with darwin, sir william remarks on a characteristic of darwin's method of asking for information, namely, his care in avoiding leading questions.) this, however, i have corrected in all the copies struck off after the first lot of . i daresay there will be a new edition in the course of nine months or a year, and this i will correct as well as i can. as yet the publishers have kept up type, and grumble dreadfully if i make heavy corrections. i am very far from surprised that "you have not committed yourself to full acceptation" of the evolution of man. difficulties and objections there undoubtedly are, enough and to spare, to stagger any cautious man who has much knowledge like yourself. i am now at work at my hobby-horse essay on expression, and i have been reading some old notes of yours. in one you say it is easy to see that the spines of the hedgehog are moved by the voluntary panniculus. now, can you tell me whether each spine has likewise an oblique unstriped or striped muscle, as figured by lister? ( / . "expression of the emotions," page .) do you know whether the tail-coverts of peacock or tail of turkey are erected by unstriped or striped muscles, and whether these are homologous with the panniculus or with the single oblique unstriped muscles going to each separate hair in man and many animals? i wrote some time ago to kolliker to ask this question (and in relation to quills of porcupine), and i received a long and interesting letter, but he could not answer these questions. if i do not receive any answer (for i know how busy you must be), i will understand you cannot aid me. i heard yesterday that paget was very ill; i hope this is not true. what a loss he would be; he is so charming a man. p.s.--as i am writing i will trouble you with one other question. have you seen anything or read of any facts which could induce you to think that the mind being intently and long directed to any portion of the skin (or, indeed, any organ) would influence the action of the capillaries, causing them either to contract or dilate? any information on this head would be of great value to me, as bearing on blushing. if i remember right, paget seems to be a great believer in the influence of the mind in the nutrition of parts, and even in causing disease. it is awfully audacious on my part, but i remember thinking (with respect to the latter assertion on disease) when i read the passage that it seemed rather fanciful, though i should like to believe in it. sir h. holland alludes to this subject of the influence of the mind on local circulation frequently, but gives no clear evidence. ( / . ibid., pages et seq.) letter . to w. turner. down, march th [ ]. forgive me for troubling you with one line. since writing my p.s. i have read the part on the influence of the nervous system on the nutrition of parts in your last edition of paget's "lectures." ( / . "lectures on surgical pathology," edition iii., revised by professor turner, .) i had not read before this part in this edition, and i see how foolish i was. but still, i should be extremely grateful for any hint or evidence of the influence of mental attention on the capillary or local circulation of the skin, or of any part to which the mind may be intently and long directed. for instance, if thinking intently about a local eruption on the skin (not on the face, for shame might possibly intervene) caused it temporarily to redden, or thinking of a tumour caused it to throb, independently of increased heart action. letter . to hubert airy. ( / . dr. airy had written to mr. darwin on april rd:-- "with regard to the loss of voluntary movement of the ears in man and monkey, may i ask if you do not think it might have been caused, as it is certainly compensated, by the facility and quickness in turning the head, possessed by them in virtue of their more erect stature, and the freedom of the atlanto-axial articulation? (in birds the same end is gained by the length and flexibility of the neck.) the importance, in case of danger, of bringing the eyes to help the ears would call for a quick turn of the head whenever a new sound was heard, and so would tend to make superfluous any special means of moving the ears, except in the case of quadrupeds and the like, that have great trouble (comparatively speaking) in making a horizontal turn of the head--can only do it by a slow bend of the whole neck." ( / . we are indebted to dr. airy for furnishing us with a copy of his letter to mr. darwin, the original of which had been mislaid.) down, april th [ ]. i am greatly obliged for your letter. your idea about the easy turning of the head instead of the ears themselves strikes me as very good, and quite new to me, and i will keep it in mind; but i fear that there are some cases opposed to the notion. if i remember right the hedgehog has very human ears, but birds support your view, though lizards are opposed to it. several persons have pointed out my error about the platysma. ( / . the error in question occurs on page of the "descent of man," edition i., where it is stated that the platysma myoides cannot be voluntarily brought into action. in the "expression of the emotions" darwin remarks that this muscle is sometimes said not to be under voluntary control, and he shows that this is not universally true.) nor can i remember how i was misled. i find i can act on this muscle myself, now that i know the corners of the mouth have to be drawn back. i know of the case of a man who can act on this muscle on one side, but not on the other; yet he asserts positively that both contract when he is startled. and this leads me to ask you to be so kind as to observe, if any opportunity should occur, whether the platysma contracts during extreme terror, as before an operation; and secondly, whether it contracts during a shivering fit. several persons are observing for me, but i receive most discordant results. i beg you to present my most respectful and kind compliments to your honoured father [sir g.b. airy]. letter . to francis galton. ( / . mr. galton had written on november th, , offering to send to various parts of africa darwin's printed list of questions intended to guide observers on expression. mr. galton goes on: "you do not, i think, mention in "expression" what i thought was universal among blubbering children (when not trying to see if harm or help was coming out of the corner of one eye) of pressing the knuckles against the eyeballs, thereby reinforcing the orbicularis.") down, november th [ ]. many thanks for your note and offer to send out the queries; but my career is so nearly closed that i do not think it worth while. what little more i can do shall be chiefly new work. i ought to have thought of crying children rubbing their eyes with their knuckles, but i did not think of it, and cannot explain it. as far as my memory serves, they do not do so whilst roaring, in which case compression would be of use. i think it is at the close of the crying fit, as if they wished to stop their eyes crying, or possibly to relieve the irritation from the salt tears. i wish i knew more about the knuckles and crying. what a tremendous stir-up your excellent article on prayer has made in england and america! ( / . the article entitled "statistical inquiries into the efficacy of prayer" appeared in the "fortnightly review," . in mr. francis galton's book on "enquiries into human faculty and its development," london, , a section (pages - ) is devoted to a discussion on the "objective efficacy of prayer.") letter . to f.c. donders. ( / . we have no means of knowing whether the observations suggested in the following letter were made--if not, the suggestion is worthy of record.) down, december st, . you will have received some little time ago my book on expression, in writing which i was so deeply indebted to your kindness. i want now to beg a favour of you, if you have the means to grant it. a clergyman, the head of an institution for the blind in england ( / . the rev. r.h. blair, principal of the worcester college: "expression of the emotions," edition ii., page .), has been observing the expression of those born blind, and he informs me that they never or very rarely frown. he kept a record of several cases, but at last observed a frown on two of the children who he thought never frowned; and then in a foolish manner tore up his notes, and did not write to me until my book was published. he may be a bad observer and altogether mistaken, but i think it would be worth while to ascertain whether those born blind, when young, and whilst screaming violently, contract the muscles round the eyes like ordinary infants. and secondly, whether in after years they rarely or never frown. if it should prove true that infants born blind do not contract their orbicular muscles whilst screaming (though i can hardly believe it) it would be interesting to know whether they shed tears as copiously as other children. the nature of the affection which causes blindness may possibly influence the contraction of the muscles, but on all such points you will judge infinitely better than i can. perhaps you could get some trustworthy superintendent of an asylum for the blind to attend to this subject. i am sure that you will forgive me asking this favour. letter . to d. hack tuke. down, december nd, . i have now finished your book, and have read it with great interest. ( / . "influence of the mind upon the body. designed to elucidate the power of the imagination." .) many of your cases are very striking. as i felt sure would be the case, i have learnt much from it; and i should have modified several passages in my book on expression, if i had had the advantage of reading your work before my publication. i always felt, and said so a year ago to professor donders, that i had not sufficient knowledge of physiology to treat my subject in a proper way. with many thanks for the interest which i have felt in reading your work... letter . to a.r. wallace. down, january th [ ]. i have read your review with much interest, and i thank you sincerely for the very kind spirit in which it is written. i cannot say that i am convinced by your criticisms. ( / . "quarterly journal of science," january, , page : "i can hardly believe that when a cat, lying on a shawl or other soft material, pats or pounds it with its feet, or sometimes sucks a piece of it, it is the persistence of the habit of pressing the mammary glands and sucking during kittenhood." mr. wallace goes on to say that infantine habits are generally completely lost in adult life, and that it seems unlikely that they should persist in a few isolated instances.) if you have ever actually observed a kitten sucking and pounding, with extended toes, its mother, and then seen the same kitten when a little older doing the same thing on a soft shawl, and ultimately an old cat (as i have seen), and do not admit that it is identically the same action, i am astonished. with respect to the decapitated frog, i have always heard of pfluger as a most trustworthy observer. ( / . mr. wallace speaks of "a readiness to accept the most marvellous conclusions or interpretations of physiologists on what seem very insufficient grounds," and he goes on to assert that the frog experiment is either incorrectly recorded or else that it "demonstrates volition, and not reflex action.") if, indeed, any one knows a frog's habits so well as to say that it never rubs off a bit of leaf or other object which may stick to its thigh, in the same manner as it did the acid, your objection would be valid. some of flourens' experiments, in which he removed the cerebral hemispheres from a pigeon, indicate that acts apparently performed consciously can be done without consciousness. i presume through the force of habit, in which case it would appear that intellectual power is not brought into play. several persons have made suggestions and objections as yours about the hands being held up in astonishment; if there was any straining of the muscles, as with protruded arms under fright, i would agree; as it is i must keep to my old opinion, and i dare say you will say that i am an obstinate old blockhead. ( / . the raising of the hands in surprise is explained ("expression of emotions," edition i., page ) on the doctrine of antithesis as being the opposite of listlessness. mr. wallace's view (given in the nd edition of "expression of the emotions," page ) is that the gesture is appropriate to sudden defence or to the giving of aid to another person.) the book has sold wonderfully; , copies have now been printed. letter . to chauncey wright. down, september st, . i have read your long letter with the greatest interest, and it was extremely kind of you to take such great trouble. now that you call my attention to the fact, i well know the appearance of persons moving the head from side to side when critically viewing any object; and i am almost sure that i have seen the same gesture in an affected person when speaking in exaggerated terms of some beautiful object not present. i should think your explanation of this gesture was the true one. but there seems to me a rather wide difference between inclining or moving the head laterally, and moving it in the same plane, as we do in negation, and, as you truly add, in disapprobation. it may, however, be that these two movements of the head have been confounded by travellers when speaking of the turks. perhaps prof. lowell would remember whether the movement was identically the same. your remarks on the effects of viewing a sunset, etc., with the head inverted are very curious. ( / . the letter dated september rd, , is published in mr. thayer's "letters" of chauncey wright, privately printed, cambridge, mass., . wright quotes mr. sophocles, a native of greece, at the time professor of modern and ancient greek at harvard university, to the effect that the turks do not express affirmation by a shake of the head, but by a bow or grave nod, negation being expressed by a backward nod. from the striking effect produced by looking at a landscape with the head inverted, or by looking at its reflection, chauncey wright was led to the lateral movement of the head, which is characteristic of critical inspection--eg. of a picture. he thinks that in this way a gesture of deliberative assent arose which may have been confused with our ordinary sign of negation. he thus attempts to account for the contradictions between lieber's statement that a turk or greek expresses "yes" by a shake of the head, and the opposite opinion of prof. sophocles, and lastly, mr. lowell's assertion that in italy our negative shake of the head is used in affirmation (see "expression of the emotions," edition ii., page ).) we have a looking-glass in the drawing-room opposite the flower-garden, and i have often been struck how extremely pretty and strange the flower garden and surrounding bushes appear when thus viewed. your letter will be very useful to me for a new edition of my expression book; but this will not be for a long time, if ever, as the publisher was misled by the very large sale at first, and printed far too many copies. i daresay you intend to publish your views in some essay, and i think you ought to do so, for you might make an interesting and instructive discussion. i have been half killing myself of late with microscopical work on plants. i begin to think that they are more wonderful than animals. p.s., january th, .--you will see that by a stupid mistake in the address this letter has just been returned to me. it is by no means worth forwarding, but i cannot bear that you should think me so ungracious and ungrateful as not to have thanked you for your long letter. as i forget whether "cambridge" is sufficient address, i will send this through asa gray. (plate: charles lyell. engraved by g.i. (j). stodart from a photograph.) chapter .ix. geology, - . i. vulcanicity and earth-movements.--ii. ice-action.--iii. the parallel roads of glen roy.--iv. coral reefs, fossil and recent.--v. cleavage and foliation.--vi. age of the world.--vii. geological action of earthworms.--viii. miscellaneous. .ix.i. vulcanicity and earth-movements, - . letter . to david milne. , upper gower street, thursday [march] th [ ]. i much regret that i am unable to give you any information of the kind you desire. you must have misunderstood mr. lyell concerning the object of my paper. ( / . "on the connexion of certain volcanic phenomena, and on the formation of mountain-chains and the effects of continental elevations." "trans. geol. soc." volume v., , pages - [march th, ].) it is an account of the shock of february, , in chile, which is particularly interesting, as it ties most closely together volcanic eruptions and continental elevations. in that paper i notice a very remarkable coincidence in volcanic eruptions in s. america at very distant places. i have also drawn up some short tables showing, as it appears to me, that there are periods of unusually great volcanic activity affecting large portions of s. america. i have no record of any coincidences between shocks there and in europe. humboldt, by his table in the "pers. narrative" (volume iv., page , english translation), seems to consider the elevation of sabrina off the azores as connected with s. american subterranean activity: this connection appears to be exceedingly vague. i have during the past year seen it stated that a severe shock in the northern parts of s. america coincided with one in kamstchatka. believing, then, that such coincidences are purely accidental, i neglected to take a note of the reference; but i believe the statement was somewhere in "l'institut" for . ( / . "l'institut, journal general des societes et travaux scientifiques de la france et de l'etranger," tome viii. page , paris, . in a note on some earthquakes in the province maurienne it is stated that they occurred during a change in the weather, and at times when a south wind followed a north wind, etc.) i was myself anxious to see the list of the shocks alluded to by you, but i have not been able to find out that the list has been published. with respect to any coincidences you may discover between shocks in s. america and europe, let me venture to suggest to you that it is probably a quite accurate statement that scarcely one hour in the year elapses in s. america without an accompanying shock in some part of that large continent. there are many regions in which earthquakes take place every three and four days; and after the severer shocks the ground trembles almost half-hourly for months. if, therefore, you had a list of the earthquakes of two or three of these districts, it is almost certain that some of them would coincide with those in scotland, without any other connection than mere chance. my paper will be published immediately in the "geological transactions," and i will do myself the pleasure of sending you a copy in the course of (as i hope) a week or ten days. a large part of it is theoretical, and will be of little interest to you; but the account of the concepcion shock of will, i think, be worth your perusal. i have understood from mr. lyell that you believe in some connection between the state of the weather and earthquakes. under the very peculiar climate of northern chile, the belief of the inhabitants in such connection can hardly, in my opinion, be founded in error. it must possibly be worth your while to turn to pages - in my "journal of researches during the voyage of the 'beagle'," where i have stated this circumstance. ( / . "journal of researches into the natural history and geology of the countries visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle' round the world." london, , page .) on the hypothesis of the crust of the earth resting on fluid matter, would the influence of the moon (as indexed by the tides) affect the periods of the shocks, when the force which causes them is just balanced by the resistance of the solid crust? the fact you mention of the coincidence between the earthquakes of calabria and scotland appears most curious. your paper will possess a high degree of interest to all geologists. i fancied that such uniformity of action, as seems here indicated, was probably confined to large continents, such as the americas. how interesting a record of volcanic phenomena in iceland would be, now that you are collecting accounts of every slight trembling in scotland. i am astonished at their frequency in that quiet country, as any one would have called it. i wish it had been in my power to have contributed in any way to your researches on this most interesting subject. letter . to l. horner. down, august th [ ]. i am greatly obliged for your kind note, and much pleased with its contents. if one-third of what you say be really true, and not the verdict of a partial judge (as from pleasant experience i much suspect), then should i be thoroughly well contented with my small volume which, small as it is, cost me much time. ( / . "geological observations on the volcanic islands visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle'": london, . a french translation has been made by professor renard of ghent, and published by reinwald of paris in .) the pleasure of observation amply repays itself: not so that of composition; and it requires the hope of some small degree of utility in the end to make up for the drudgery of altering bad english into sometimes a little better and sometimes worse. with respect to craters of elevation ( / . "geological observations," pages - .), i had no sooner printed off the few pages on that subject than i wished the whole erased. i utterly disbelieve in von buch and de beaumont's views; but on the other hand, in the case of the mauritius and st. jago, i cannot, perhaps unphilosophically, persuade myself that they are merely the basal fragments of ordinary volcanoes; and therefore i thought i would suggest the notion of a slow circumferential elevation, the central part being left unelevated, owing to the force from below being spent and [relieved?] in eruptions. on this view, i do not consider these so-called craters of elevation as formed by the ejection of ashes, lava, etc., etc., but by a peculiar kind of elevation acting round and modified by a volcanic orifice. i wish i had left it all out; i trust that there are in other parts of the volume more facts and less theory. the more i reflect on volcanoes, the more i appreciate the importance of e. de beaumont's measurements ( / . elie de beaumont's views are discussed by sir charles lyell both in the "principles of geology" (edition x., , volume i. pages et seq.) and in the "elements of geology" (edition iii., , pages , ). see also darwin's "geological observations," edition ii., , page .) (even if one does not believe them implicitly) of the natural inclination of lava-streams, and even more the importance of his view of the dikes, or unfilled fissures, in every volcanic mountain, being the proofs and measures of the stretching and consequent elevation which all such mountains must have undergone. i believe he thus unintentionally explains most of his cases of lava-streams being inclined at a greater angle than that at which they could have flowed. but excuse this lengthy note, and once more let me thank you for the pleasure and encouragement you have given me--which, together with lyell's never-failing kindness, will help me on with south america, and, as my books will not sell, i sometimes want such aid. i have been lately reading with care a. d'orbigny's work on south america ( / . "voyage dans l'amerique meridionale--execute pendant les annees - ": six volumes, paris, - .), and i cannot say how forcibly impressed i am with the infinite superiority of the lyellian school of geology over the continental. i always feel as if my books came half out of lyell's brain, and that i never acknowledge this sufficiently; nor do i know how i can without saying so in so many words--for i have always thought that the great merit of the "principles" was that it altered the whole tone of one's mind, and therefore that, when seeing a thing never seen by lyell, one yet saw it partially through his eyes--it would have been in some respects better if i had done this less: but again excuse my long, and perhaps you will think presumptuous, discussion. enclosed is a note from emma to mrs. horner, to beg you, if you can, to give us the great pleasure of seeing you here. we are necessarily dull here, and can offer no amusements; but the weather is delightful, and if you could see how brightly the sun now shines you would be tempted to come. pray remember me most kindly to all your family, and beg of them to accept our proposal, and give us the pleasure of seeing them. letter . to c. lyell. down, [september, ]. i was glad to get your note, and wanted to hear about your work. i have been looking to see it advertised; it has been a long task. i had, before your return from scotland, determined to come up and see you; but as i had nothing else to do in town, my courage has gradually eased off, more especially as i have not been very well lately. we get so many invitations here that we are grown quite dissipated, but my stomach has stood it so ill that we are going to have a month's holidays, and go nowhere. the subject which i was most anxious to talk over with you i have settled, and having written sixty pages of my "s. american geology," i am in pretty good heart, and am determined to have very little theory and only short descriptions. the two first chapters will, i think, be pretty good, on the great gravel terraces and plains of patagonia and chili and peru. i am astonished and grieved over d'orbigny's nonsense of sudden elevations. ( / . d'orbigny's views are referred to by lyell in chapter vii. of the "principles," volume i. page . "this mud [i.e. the pampean mud] contains in it recent species of shells, some of them proper to brackish water, and is believed by mr. darwin to be an estuary or delta deposit. m.a. d'orbigny, however, has advanced an hypothesis...that the agitation and displacement of the waters of the ocean, caused by the elevation of the andes, gave rise to a deluge, of which this pampean mud, which reaches sometimes the height of , feet, is the result and monument.") i must give you one of his cases: he finds an old beach feet above sea. he finds still attached to the rocks at feet six species of truly littoral shells. he finds at to feet above sea an immense accumulation of chiefly littoral shells. he argues the whole feet uplifted at one blow, because the attached shells at feet have not been displaced. therefore when the sea formed a beach at feet the present littoral shells were attached to rocks at feet depth, and these same shells were accumulating by thousands at feet. hear this, oh forbes. is it not monstrous for a professed conchologist? this is a fair specimen of his reasoning. one of his arguments against the pampas being a slow deposit, is that mammifers are very seldom washed by rivers into the sea! because at , feet he finds the same kind of clay with that of the pampas he never doubts that it is contemporaneous with the pampas [debacle?] which accompanied the right royal salute of every volcano in the cordillera. what a pity these frenchmen do not catch hold of a comet, and return to the good old geological dramas of burnett and whiston. i shall keep out of controversy, and just give my own facts. it is enough to disgust one with geology; though i have been much pleased with the frank, decided, though courteous manner with which d'orbigny disputes my conclusions, given, unfortunately, without facts, and sometimes rashly, in my journal. enough of s. america. i wish you would ask mr. horner (for i forgot to do so, and am unwilling to trouble him again) whether he thinks there is too much detail (quite independent of the merits of the book) in my volcanic volume; as to know this would be of some real use to me. you could tell me when we meet after york, when i will come to town. i had intended being at york, but my courage has failed. i should much like to hear your lecture, but still more to read it, as i think reading is always better than hearing. i am very glad you talk of a visit to us in the autumn if you can spare the time. i shall be truly glad to see mrs. lyell and yourself here; but i have scruples in asking any one--you know how dull we are here. young hooker ( / . sir j.d. hooker.) talks of coming; i wish he might meet you,--he appears to me a most engaging young man. i have been delighted with prescott, of which i have read volume i. at your recommendation; i have just been a good deal interested with w. taylor's (of norwich) "life and correspondence." on your return from york i shall expect a great supply of geological gossip. letter . to c. lyell. [october rd, .] i have been much interested with ramsay, but have no particular suggestions to offer ( / . "on the denudation of south wales and the adjacent counties of england." a.c. ramsay, "mem. geol. survey great britain," volume i., london, .); i agree with all your remarks made the other day. my final impression is that the only argument against him is to tell him to read and re-read the "principles," and if not then convinced to send him to pluto. not but what he has well read the "principles!" and largely profited thereby. i know not how carefully you have read this paper, but i think you did not mention to me that he does (page ) ( / . ramsay refers the great outlines of the country to the action of the sea in tertiary times. in speaking of the denudation of the coast, he says: "taking unlimited time into account, we can conceive that any extent of land might be so destroyed...if to this be added an exceedingly slow depression of the land and sea bottom, the wasting process would be materially assisted by this depression" (loc. cit., page ).) believe that the main part of his great denudation was effected during a vast (almost gratuitously assumed) slow tertiary subsidence and subsequent tertiary oscillating slow elevation. so our high cliff argument is inapplicable. he seems to think his great subsidence only favourable for great denudation. i believe from the general nature of the off-shore sea's bottoms that it is almost necessary; do look at two pages--page of my s. american volume--on this subject. ( / . "geological observations on s. america," , page . "when viewing the sea-worn cliffs of patagonia, in some parts between and feet in height, and formed of horizontal tertiary strata, which must once have extended far seaward...a difficulty often occurred to me, namely, how the strata could possibly have been removed by the action of the sea at a considerable depth beneath its surface." the cliffs of st. helena are referred to in illustration of the same problem; speaking of these, darwin adds: "now, if we had any reason to suppose that st. helena had, during a long period, gone on slowly subsiding, every difficulty would be removed...i am much inclined to suspect that we shall hereafter find in all such cases that the land with the adjoining bed of the sea has in truth subsided..." (loc. cit., pages - ).) the foundation of his views, viz., of one great sudden upheaval, strikes me as threefold. first, to account for the great dislocations. this strikes me as the odder, as he admits that a little northwards there were many and some violent dislocations at many periods during the accumulation of the palaeozoic series. if you argue against him, allude to the cool assumption that petty forces are conflicting: look at volcanoes; look at recurrent similar earthquakes at same spots; look at repeatedly injected intrusive masses. in my paper on volcanic phenomena in the "geol. transactions." ( / . "on the connection of certain volcanic phenomena, and on the formation of mountain-chains and the effects of continental elevations." "geol. soc. proc." volume ii., pages - , ; "trans. geol. soc." volume v., pages - , . [read march th, .]) i have argued (and lonsdale thought well of the argument, in favour, as he remarked, of your original doctrine) that if hopkins' views are correct, viz., that mountain chains are subordinate consequences to changes of level in mass, then, as we have evidence of such horizontal movements in mass having been slow, the foundation of mountain chains (differing from volcanoes only in matter being injected instead of ejected) must have been slow. secondly, ramsay has been influenced, i think, by his alpine insects; but he is wrong in thinking that there is any necessary connection of tropics and large insects--videlicet--galapagos arch., under the equator. small insects swarm in all parts of tropics, though accompanied generally with large ones. thirdly, he appears influenced by the absence of newer deposits on the old area, blinded by the supposed necessity of sediment accumulating somewhere near (as no doubt is true) and being preserved--an example, as i think, of the common error which i wrote to you about. the preservation of sedimentary deposits being, as i do not doubt, the exception when they are accumulated during periods of elevation or of stationary level, and therefore the preservation of newer deposits would not be probable, according to your view that ramsay's great palaeozoic masses were denuded, whilst slowly rising. do pray look at end of chapter ii., at what little i have said on this subject in my s. american volume. ( / . the second chapter of the "geological observations" concludes with a summary on the recent elevations of the west coast of south america, (page ).) i do not think you can safely argue that the whole surface was probably denuded at same time to the level of the lateral patches of magnesian conglomerate. the latter part of the paper strikes me as good, but obvious. i shall send him my s. american volume for it is curious on how many similar points we enter, and i modestly hope it may be a half-oz. weight towards his conversion to better views. if he would but reject his great sudden elevations, how sound and good he would be. i doubt whether this letter will be worth the reading. letter . to c. lyell. down [september th, ]. it was very good of you to write me so long a letter, which has interested me much. i should have answered it sooner, but i have not been very well for the few last days. your letter has also flattered me much in many points. i am very glad you have been thinking over the relation of subsidence and the accumulation of deposits; it has to me removed many great difficulties; please to observe that i have carefully abstained from saying that sediment is not deposited during periods of elevation, but only that it is not accumulated to sufficient thickness to withstand subsequent beach action; on both coasts of s. america the amount of sediment deposited, worn away, and redeposited, oftentimes must have been enormous, but still there have been no wide formations produced: just read my discussion (page of my s. american book ( / . see letter , note. the discussion referred to ("geological observations on south america," ) deals with the causes of the absence of recent conchiferous deposits on the coasts of south america.)) again with this in your mind. i never thought of your difficulty (i.e. in relation to this discussion) of where was the land whence the three miles of s. wales strata were derived! ( / . in his classical paper "on the denudation of south wales and the adjacent counties of england" ("mem. geol. survey," volume i., page , ), ramsay estimates the thickness of certain palaeozoic formations in south wales, and calculates the cubic contents of the strata in the area they now occupy together with the amount removed by denudation; and he goes on to say that it is evident that the quantity of matter employed to form these strata was many times greater than the entire amount of solid land they now represent above the waves. "to form, therefore, so great a thickness, a mass of matter of nearly equal cubic contents must have been worn by the waves and the outpourings of rivers from neighbouring lands, of which perhaps no original trace now remains" (page .)) do you not think that it may be explained by a form of elevation which i have always suspected to have been very common (and, indeed, had once intended getting all facts together), viz. thus?-- (figure . a line drawing of ocean bottom subsiding beside mountains and continent rising.) the frequency of a deep ocean close to a rising continent bordered with mountains, seems to indicate these opposite movements of rising and sinking close together; this would easily explain the s. wales and eocene cases. i will only add that i should think there would be a little more sediment produced during subsidence than during elevation, from the resulting outline of coast, after long period of rise. there are many points in my volume which i should like to have discussed with you, but i will not plague you: i should like to hear whether you think there is anything in my conjecture on craters of elevation ( / . in the "geological observations on volcanic islands," , pages - , darwin speaks of st. helena, st. jago and mauritius as being bounded by a ring of basaltic mountains which he regards as "craters of elevation." while unable to accept the theory of elie de beaumont and attribute their formation to a dome-shaped elevation and consequent arching of the strata, he recognises a "very great difficulty in admitting that these basaltic mountains are merely the basal fragments of great volcanoes, of which the summits have been either blown off, or, more probably, swallowed by subsidence." an explanation of the origin and structure of these volcanic islands is suggested which would keep them in the class of "craters of elevation," but which assumes a slow elevation, during which the central hollow or platform having been formed "not by the arching of the surface, but simply by that part having been upraised to a less height."); i cannot possibly believe that saint jago or mauritius are the basal fragments of ordinary volcanoes; i would sooner even admit e. de beaumont's views than that--much as i would sooner in my own mind in all cases follow you. just look at page in my "s. america" for a trifling point, which, however, i remember to this day relieved my mind of a considerable difficulty. ( / . this probably refers to a paragraph (page ) "on the eruptive sources of the porphyritic claystone and greenstone lavas." the opinion is put forward that "the difficulty of tracing the streams of porphyries to their ancient and doubtless numerous eruptive sources, may be partly explained by the very general disturbance which the cordillera in most parts has suffered"; but, darwin adds, "a more specific cause may be that 'the original points of eruption tend to become the points of injection'...on this view of there being a tendency in the old points of eruption to become the points of subsequent injection and disturbance, and consequently of denudation, it ceases to be surprising that the streams of lava in the porphyritic claystone conglomerate formation, and in other analogous cases, should most rarely be traceable to their actual sources." the latter part of this letter is published in "life and letters," i., pages , .) i remember being struck with your discussion on the mississippi beds in relation to pampas, but i should wish to read them over again; i have, however, re-lent your work to mrs. rich, who, like all whom i have met, has been much interested by it. i will stop about my own geology. but i see i must mention that scrope did suggest (and i have alluded to him, page ( / . "geological observations," edition ii., . chapter vi. opens with a discussion "on the separation of the constituent minerals of lava, according to their specific gravities." mr. darwin calls attention to the fact that mr. p. scrope had speculated on the subject of the separation of the trachytic and basaltic series of lavas (page ).), but without distinct reference and i fear not sufficiently, though i utterly forgot what he wrote) the separation of basalt and trachyte; but he does not appear to have thought about the crystals, which i believe to be the keystone of the phenomenon. i cannot but think this separation of the molten elements has played a great part in the metamorphic rocks: how else could the basaltic dykes have come in the great granitic districts such as those of brazil? what a wonderful book for labour is d'archiac!...( / . possibly this refers to d'archiac's "histoire des progres de la geologie," .) letter . to lady lyell. down, wednesday night [ ?]. i am going to beg a very very great favour of you: it is to translate one page (and the title) of either danish or swedish or some such language. i know not to whom else to apply, and i am quite dreadfully interested about the barnacles therein described. does lyell know loven, or his address and title? for i must write to him. if lyell knows him i would use his name as introduction; loven i know by name as a first-rate naturalist. accidentally i forgot to give you the "footsteps," which i now return, having ordered a copy for myself. i sincerely hope the "craters of denudation" prosper; i pin my faith to this view. ( / . "on craters of denudation, with observations on the structure and growth of volcanic cones." "proc. geol. soc." volume vi., , pages - . in a letter to bunbury (january th, ) lyell wrote:..."darwin adopts my views as to mauritius, st. jago, and so-called elevation craters, which he has examined, and was puzzled with."--"life of sir charles lyell," volume ii., page .) please tell sir c. lyell that outside the crater-like mountains at st. jago, even throughout a distance of two or three miles, there has been much denudation of the older volcanic rocks contemporaneous with those of the ring of mountains. ( / . the island of st. jago, one of the cape de verde group, is fully described in the "volcanic islands," chapter .) i hope that you will not find the page troublesome, and that you will forgive me asking you. letter . to c. lyell. [november th, ]. i have been deeply interested in your letter, and so far, at least, worthy of the time it must have cost you to write it. i have not much to say. i look at the whole question as settled. santorin is splendid! it is conclusive! it is perfect! ( / . "the gulf of santorin, in the grecian archipelago, has been for two thousand years a scene of active volcanic operations. the largest of the three outer islands of the groups (to which the general name of santorin is given) is called thera (or sometimes santorin), and forms more than two-thirds of the circuit of the gulf" ("principles of geology," volume ii., edition x., london, , page ). lyell attributed "the moderate slope of the beds in thera...to their having originally descended the inclined flanks of a large volcanic cone..."; he refuted the theory of "elevation craters" by leopold von buch, which explained the slope of the rocks in a volcanic mountain by assuming that the inclined beds had been originally horizontal and subsequently tilted by an explosion.) you have read dufrenoy in a hurry, i think, and added to the difficulty--it is the whole hill or "colline" which is composed of tuff with cross-stratification; the central boss or "monticule" is simply trachyte. now, i have described one tuff crater at galapagos (page ) ( / . the pages refer to darwin's "geological observations on the volcanic islands, etc." .) which has broken through a great solid sheet of basalt: why should not an irregular mass of trachyte have been left in the middle after the explosion and emission of mud which produced the overlying tuff? or, again, i see no difficulty in a mass of trachyte being exposed by subsequent dislocations and bared or cleaned by rain. at ascension (page ), subsequent to the last great aeriform explosion, which has covered the country with fragments, there have been dislocations and a large circular subsidence...do not quote banks' case ( / . this refers to banks' cove: see "volcanic islands," page .) (for there has been some denudation there), but the "elliptic one" (page ), which is , yards (three-quarters of a nautical mile) in internal diameter...and is the very one the inclination of whose mud stream on tuff strata i measured (before i had ever heard the name dufrenoy) and found varying from to deg. albemarle island, instead of being a crater of elevation, as von buch foolishly guessed, is formed of four great subaerial basaltic volcanoes (page ), of one of which you might like to know the external diameter of the summit or crater was above three nautical miles. there are no "craters of denudation" at galapagos. ( / . see lyell "on craters of denudation, with observations on the structure and growth of volcanic cones," "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume vi., , page .) i hope you will allude to mauritius. i think this is the instance on the largest scale of any known, though imperfectly known. if i were you i would give up consistency (or, at most, only allude in note to your old edition) and bring out the craters of denudation as a new view, which it essentially is. you cannot, i think, give it prominence as a novelty and yet keep to consistency and passages in old editions. i should grudge this new view being smothered in your address, and should like to see a separate paper. the one great channel to santorin and palma, etc., etc., is just like the one main channel being kept open in atolls and encircling barrier reefs, and on the same principle of water being driven in through several shallow breaches. i of course utterly reprobate my wild notion of circular elevation; it is a satisfaction to me to think that i perceived there was a screw loose in the old view, and, so far, i think i was of some service to you. depend on it, you have for ever smashed, crushed, and abolished craters of elevation. there must be craters of engulfment, and of explosion (mere modifications of craters of eruption), but craters of denudation are the ones which have given rise to all the discussions. pray give my best thanks to lady lyell for her translation, which was as clear as daylight to me, including "leglessness." letter . to c. lyell. down [november th, ]. i remembered the passage in e. de b. [elie de beaumont] and have now re-read it. i have always and do still entirely disbelieve it; in such a wonderful case he ought to have hammered every inch of rock up to actual junction; he describes no details of junction, and if i were in your place i would absolutely dispute the fact of junction (or articulation as he oddly calls it) on such evidence. i go farther than you; i do not believe in the world there is or has been a junction between a dike and stream of lava of exact shape of either ( ) or ( ) figure ]. (figures , and .) if dike gave immediate origin to volcanic vent we should have craters of [an] elliptic shape [figure ]. i believe that when the molten rock in a dike comes near to the surface, some one two or three points will always certainly chance to afford an easier passage upward to the actual surface than along the whole line, and therefore that the dike will be connected (if the whole were bared and dissected) with the vent by a column or cone (see my elegant drawing) of lava [figure ]. i do not doubt that the dikes are thus indirectly connected with eruptive vents. e. de b. seems to have observed many of his t; now without he supposes the whole line of fissure or dike to have poured out lava (which implies, as above remarked, craters of an elliptic or almost linear shape) on both sides, how extraordinarily improbable it is, that there should have been in a single line of section so many intersections of points eruption; he must, i think, make his orifices of eruption almost linear or, if not so, astonishingly numerous. one must refer to what one has seen oneself: do pray, when you go home, look at the section of a minute cone of eruption at the galapagos, page ( / . "geological observations on volcanic islands." london, , page .), which is the most perfect natural dissection of a crater which i have ever heard of, and the drawing of which you may, i assure you, trust; here the arching over of the streams as they were poured out over the lip of the crater was evident, and are now thus seen united to the central irregular column. again, at st. jago i saw some horizontal sections of the bases of small craters, and the sources or feeders were circular. i really cannot entertain a doubt that e. de b. is grossly wrong, and that you are right in your view; but without most distinct evidence i will never admit that a dike joins on rectangularly to a stream of lava. your argument about the perpendicularity of the dike strikes me as good. the map of etna, which i have been just looking at, looks like a sudden falling in, does it not? i am not much surprised at the linear vent in santorin (this linear tendency ought to be difficult to a circular-crater-of-elevation-believer), i think abich ( / . "geologische beobachtungen uber die vulkanischen erscheinungen und bildungen in unter- und mittel-italien." braunschweig, .) describes having seen the same actual thing forming within the crater of vesuvius. in such cases what outline do you give to the upper surface of the lava in the dike connecting them? surely it would be very irregular and would send up irregular cones or columns as in my above splendid drawing. at the royal on friday, after more doubt and misgiving than i almost ever felt, i voted to recommend forbes for royal medal, and that view was carried, sedgwick taking the lead. i am glad to hear that all your party are pretty well. i know from experience what you must have gone through. from old age with suffering death must be to all a happy release. ( / . this seems to refer to the death of sir charles lyell's father, which occurred on november th, .) i saw dan sharpe the other day, and he told me he had been working at the mica schist (i.e. not gneiss) in scotland, and that he was quite convinced my view was right. you are wrong and a heretic on this point, i know well. letter . to c.h.l. woodd. down, march th [ ]. ( / . the paper was sent in ms., and seems not to have been published. mr. woodd was connected by marriage with mr. darwin's cousin, the late rev. w. darwin fox. it was perhaps in consequence of this that mr. darwin proposed mr. woodd for the geological society.) i have read over your paper with attention; but first let me thank you for your very kind expressions towards myself. i really feel hardly competent to discuss the questions raised by your paper; i feel the want of mathematical mechanics. all such problems strike me as awfully complicated; we do not even know what effect great pressure has on retarding liquefaction by heat, nor, i apprehend, on expansion. the chief objection which strikes me is a doubt whether a mass of strata, when heated, and therefore in some slight degree at least softened, would bow outwards like a bar of metal. consider of how many subordinate layers each great mass would be composed, and the mineralogical changes in any length of any one stratum: i should have thought that the strata would in every case have crumpled up, and we know how commonly in metamorphic strata, which have undergone heat, the subordinate layers are wavy and sinuous, which has always been attributed to their expansion whilst heated. before rocks are dried and quarried, manifold facts show how extremely flexible they are even when not at all heated. without the bowing out and subsequent filling in of the roof of the cavity, if i understand you, there would be no subsidence. of course the crumpling up of the strata would thicken them, and i see with you that this might compress the underlying fluidified rock, which in its turn might escape by a volcano or raise a weaker part of the earth's crust; but i am too ignorant to have any opinion whether force would be easily propagated through a viscid mass like molten rock; or whether such viscid mass would not act in some degree like sand and refuse to transmit pressure, as in the old experiment of trying to burst a piece of paper tied over the end of a tube with a stick, an inch or two of sand being only interposed. i have always myself felt the greatest difficulty in believing in waves of heat coming first to this and then to that quarter of the world: i suspect that heat plays quite a subordinate part in the upward and downward movements of the earth's crust; though of course it must swell the strata where first affected. i can understand sir j. herschel's manner of bringing heat to unheated strata--namely, by covering them up by a mile or so of new strata, and then the heat would travel into the lower ones. but who can tell what effect this mile or two of new sedimentary strata would have from mere gravity on the level of the supporting surface? of course such considerations do not render less true that the expansion of the strata by heat would have some effect on the level of the surface; but they show us how awfully complicated the phenomenon is. all young geologists have a great turn for speculation; i have burned my fingers pretty sharply in that way, and am now perhaps become over-cautious; and feel inclined to cavil at speculation when the direct and immediate effect of a cause in question cannot be shown. how neatly you draw your diagrams; i wish you would turn your attention to real sections of the earth's crust, and then speculate to your heart's content on them; i can have no doubt that speculative men, with a curb on, make far the best observers. i sincerely wish i could have made any remarks of more interest to you, and more directly bearing on your paper; but the subject strikes me as too difficult and complicated. with every good wish that you may go on with your geological studies, speculations, and especially observations... letter . to c. lyell. down, march th [ ]. i have often puzzled over dana's case, in itself and in relation to the trains of s. american volcanoes of different heights in action at the same time (page , volume v. "geological transactions." ( / . "on the connection of certain volcanic phenomena in south america, and on the formation of mountain chains and volcanoes, as the effect of the same power by which continents are elevated" ("trans. geol. soc." volume v., page , ). on page darwin records instances of the simultaneous activity after an earthquake of several volcanoes in the cordillera.)) i can throw no light on the subject. i presume you remember that hopkins ( / . see "report on the geological theories of elevation and earthquakes," by w. hopkins, "brit. assoc. rep." , page .) in some one (i forget which) of his papers discusses such cases, and urgently wishes the height of the fluid lava was known in adjoining volcanoes when in contemporaneous action; he argues vehemently against (as far as i remember) volcanoes in action of different heights being connected with one common source of liquefied rock. if lava was as fluid as water, the case would indeed be hopeless; and i fancy we should be led to look at the deep-seated rock as solid though intensely hot, and becoming fluid as soon as a crack lessened the tension of the super-incumbent strata. but don't you think that viscid lava might be very slow in communicating its pressure equally in all directions? i remember thinking strongly that dana's case within the one crater of kilauea proved too much; it really seems monstrous to suppose that the lava within the same crater is not connected at no very great depth. when one reflects on (and still better sees) the enormous masses of lava apparently shot miles high up, like cannon-balls, the force seems out of all proportion to the mere gravity of the liquefied lava; i should think that a channel a little straightly or more open would determine the line of explosion, like the mouth of a cannon compared to the touch-hole. if a high-pressure boiler was cracked across, no one would think for a moment that the quantity of water and steam expelled at different points depended on the less or greater height of the water within the boiler above these points, but on the size of the crack at these points; and steam and water might be driven out both at top and bottom. may not a volcano be likened to a protruding and cracked portion on a vast natural high-pressure boiler, formed by the surrounding area of country? in fact, i think my simile would be truer if the difference consisted only in the cracked case of the boiler being much thicker in some parts than in others, and therefore having to expel a greater thickness or depth of water in the thicker cracks or parts--a difference of course absolutely as nothing. i have seen an old boiler in action, with steam and drops of water spurting out of some of the rivet-holes. no one would think whether the rivet-holes passed through a greater or less thickness of iron, or were connected with the water higher or lower within the boiler, so small would the gravity be compared with the force of the steam. if the boiler had been not heated, then of course there would be a great difference whether the rivet-holes entered the water high or low, so that there was greater or less pressure of gravity. how to close my volcanic rivet-holes i don't know. i do not know whether you will understand what i am driving at, and it will not signify much whether you do or not. i remember in old days (i may mention the subject as we are on it) often wishing i could get you to look at continental elevations as the phenomenon, and volcanic outbursts and tilting up of mountain chains as connected, but quite secondary, phenomena. i became deeply impressed with the truth of this view in s. america, and i do not think you hold it, or if so make it clear: the same explanation, whatever it may be, which will account for the whole coast of chili rising, will and must apply to the volcanic action of the cordillera, though modified no doubt by the liquefied rock coming to the surface and reaching water, and so [being] rendered explosive. to me it appears that this ought to be borne in mind in your present subject of discussion. i have written at too great length; and have amused myself if i have done you no good--so farewell. letter . to c. lyell. down, july th [ ]. i am very much obliged for your long letter, which has interested me much; but before coming to the volcanic cosmogony i must say that i cannot gather your verdict as judge and jury (and not as advocate) on the continental extensions of late authors ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page ; letter to lyell, june th, : also letters in the sections of the present work devoted to evolution and geographical distribution.), which i must grapple with, and which as yet strikes me as quite unphilosophical, inasmuch as such extensions must be applied to every oceanic island, if to any one, as to madeira; and this i cannot admit, seeing that the skeletons, at least, of our continents are ancient, and seeing the geological nature of the oceanic islands themselves. do aid me with your judgment: if i could honestly admit these great [extensions], they would do me good service. with respect to active volcanic areas being rising areas, which looks so pretty on the coral maps, i have formerly felt "uncomfortable" on exactly the same grounds with you, viz. maritime position of volcanoes; and still more from the immense thicknesses of silurian, etc., volcanic strata, which thicknesses at first impress the mind with the idea of subsidence. if this could be proved, the theory would be smashed; but in deep oceans, though the bottom were rising, great thicknesses of submarine lava might accumulate. but i found, after writing coral book, cases in my notes of submarine vesicular lava-streams in the upper masses of the cordillera, formed, as i believe, during subsidence, which staggered me greatly. with respect to the maritime position of volcanoes, i have long been coming to the conclusion that there must be some law causing areas of elevation (consequently of land) and of subsidence to be parallel (as if balancing each other) and closely approximate; i think this from the form of continents with a deep ocean on one side, from coral map, and especially from conversations with you on immense subsidences of the carboniferous and [other] periods, and yet with continued great supply of sediment. if this be so, such areas, with opposite movements, would probably be separated by sets of parallel cracks, and would be the seat of volcanoes and tilts, and consequently volcanoes and mountains would be apt to be maritime; but why volcanoes should cling to the rising edge of the cracks i cannot conjecture. that areas with extinct volcanic archipelagoes may subside to any extent i do not doubt. your view of the bottom of atlantic long sinking with continued volcanic outbursts and local elevations at madeira, canaries, etc., grates (but of course i do not know how complex the phenomena are which are thus explained) against my judgment; my general ideas strongly lead me to believe in elevatory movements being widely extended. one ought, i think, never to forget that when a volcano is in action we have distinct proof of an action from within outwards. nor should we forget, as i believe follows from hopkins ( / . "researches in physical geology," w. hopkins, "trans. phil. soc. cambridge," volume vi., . see also "report on the geological theories of elevation and earthquakes," w. hopkins, "brit. assoc. rep." page , (oxford meeting).), and as i have insisted in my earthquake paper, that volcanoes and mountain chains are mere accidents resulting from the elevation of an area, and as mountain chains are generally long, so should i view areas of elevation as generally large. ( / . "on the connexion of certain volcanic phenomena in s. america, and on the formation of mountain chains and volcanoes, as the effect of the same power by which continents are elevated," "trans. geol. soc." volume v., page , . "bearing in mind mr. hopkins' demonstration, if there be considerable elevation there must be fissures, and, if fissures, almost certainly unequal upheaval, or subsequent sinking down, the argument may be finally thus put: mountain chains are the effects of continental elevations; continental elevations and the eruptive force of volcanoes are due to one great motive, now in progressive action..." (loc. cit., page ).) your old original view that great oceans must be sinking areas, from there being causes making land and yet there being little land, has always struck me till lately as very good. but in some degree this starts from the assumption that within periods of which we know anything there was either a continent in such areas, or at least a sea-bottom of not extreme depth. letter . to c. lyell. king's head hotel, sandown, isle of wight, july th [ ]. i write merely to thank you for the abstract of the etna paper. ( / . "on the structure of lavas which have consolidated on steep slopes, with remarks on the mode of origin of mount etna and on the theory of 'craters of elevation,'" by c. lyell, "phil. trans. r. soc." volume cxlviii., page , .) it seems to me a very grand contribution to our volcanic knowledge. certainly i never expected to see e. de b.'s [elie de beaumont] theory of slopes so completely upset. he must have picked out favourable cases for measurement. and such an array of facts he gives! you have scotched, and will see die, i now think, the crater of elevation theory. but what vitality there is in a plausible theory! ( / . the rest of this letter is published in "life and letters," ii., page .) letter . to c. lyell. down, november th [ ]. i have endeavoured to think over your discussion, but not with much success. you will have to lay down, i think, very clearly, what foundation you argue from--four parts (which seems to me exceedingly moderate on your part) of europe being now at rest, with one part undergoing movement. how it is, that from this you can argue that the one part which is now moving will have rested since the commencement of the glacial period in the proportion of four to one, i do not pretend to see with any clearness; but does not your argument rest on the assumption that within a given period, say two or three million years, the whole of europe necessarily has to undergo movement? this may be probable or not so, but it seems to me that you must explain the foundation of your argument from space to time, which at first, to me was very far from obvious. i can, of course, see that if you can make out your argument satisfactorily to yourself and others it would be most valuable. i can imagine some one saying that it is not fair to argue that the great plains of europe and the mountainous districts of scotland and wales have been at all subjected to the same laws of movement. looking to the whole world, it has been my opinion, from the very size of the continents and oceans, and especially from the enormous ranges of so many mountain-chains (resulting from cracks which follow from vast areas of elevation, as hopkins argues ( / . see "report on the geological theories of elevation and earthquakes." by william hopkins. "brit. assoc. rep." , pages - ; also the anniversary address to the geological society by w. hopkins in ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume viii.); in this address, pages lxviii et seq.) reference is made to the theory of elevation which rests on the supposition "of the simultaneous action of an upheaving force at every point of the area over which the phenomena of elevation preserve a certain character of continuity...the elevated mass...becomes stretched, and is ultimately torn and fissured in those directions in which the tendency thus to tear is greatest...it is thus that the complex phenomena of elevation become referable to a general and simple mechanical cause...")) and from other reasons, it has been my opinion that, as a general rule, very large portions of the world have been simultaneously affected by elevation or subsidence. i can see that this does not apply so strongly to broken europe, any more than to the malay archipelago. yet, had i been asked, i should have said that probably nearly the whole of europe was subjected during the glacial period to periods of elevation and of subsidence. it does not seem to me so certain that the kinds of partial movement which we now see going on show us the kind of movement which europe has been subjected to since the commencement of the glacial period. these notions are at least possible, and would they not vitiate your argument? do you not rest on the belief that, as scandinavia and some few other parts are now rising, and a few others sinking, and the remainder at rest, so it has been since the commencement of the glacial period? with my notions i should require this to be made pretty probable before i could put much confidence in your calculations. you have probably thought this all over, but i give you the reflections which come across me, supposing for the moment that you took the proportions of space at rest and in movement as plainly applicable to time. i have no doubt that you have sufficient evidence that, at the commencement of the glacial period, the land in scotland, wales, etc., stood as high or higher than at present, but i forget the proofs. having burnt my own fingers so consumedly with the wealden, i am fearful for you, but i well know how infinitely more cautious, prudent, and far-seeing you are than i am; but for heaven's sake take care of your fingers; to burn them severely, as i have done, is very unpleasant. your / feet for a century of elevation seems a very handsome allowance. can d. forbes really show the great elevation of chili? i am astounded at it, and i took some pains on the point. i do not pretend to say that you may not be right to judge of the past movements of europe by those now and recently going on, yet it somehow grates against my judgment,--perhaps only against my prejudices. as a change from elevation to subsidence implies some great subterranean or cosmical change, one may surely calculate on long intervals of rest between. though, if the cause of the change be ever proved to be astronomical, even this might be doubtful. p.s.--i do not know whether i have made clear what i think probable, or at least possible: viz., that the greater part of europe has at times been elevated in some degree equably; at other times it has all subsided equably; and at other times might all have been stationary; and at other times it has been subjected to various unequal movements, up and down, as at present. letter . to c. lyell. down, december th [ ]. it certainly seems to me safer to rely solely on the slowness of ascertained up-and-down movement. but you could argue length of probable time before the movement became reversed, as in your letter. and might you not add that over the whole world it would probably be admitted that a larger area is now at rest than in movement? and this i think would be a tolerably good reason for supposing long intervals of rest. you might even adduce europe, only guarding yourself by saying that possibly (i will not say probably, though my prejudices would lead me to say so) europe may at times have gone up and down all together. i forget whether in a former letter you made a strong point of upward movement being always interrupted by long periods of rest. after writing to you, out of curiosity i glanced at the early chapters in my "geology of south america," and the areas of elevation on the e. and w. coasts are so vast, and proofs of many successive periods of rest so striking, that the evidence becomes to my mind striking. with regard to the astronomical causes of change: in ancient days in the "beagle" when i reflected on the repeated great oscillations of level on the very same area, and when i looked at the symmetry of mountain chains over such vast spaces, i used to conclude that the day would come when the slow change of form in the semi-fluid matter beneath the crust would be found to be the cause of volcanic action, and of all changes of level. and the late discussion in the "athenaeum" ( / . "on the change of climate in different regions of the earth." letters from sir henry james, col. r.e., "athenaeum," august th, , page ; september th, page ; september th, page ; october th, page . also letter from j. beete jukes, local director of the geological survey of ireland, loc. cit., september th, page ; october th, page .), by sir h. james (though his letter seemed to me mighty poor, and what jukes wrote good), reminded me of this notion. in case astronomical agencies should ever be proved or rendered probable, i imagine, as in nutation or precession, that an upward movement or protrusion of fluidified matter below might be immediately followed by movement of an opposite nature. this is all that i meant. i have not read jamieson, or yet got the number. ( / . possibly william jameson, "journey from quito to cayambe," "geog. soc. journ." volume xxxi., page , .) i was very much struck with forbes' explanation of n[itrate] of soda beds and the saliferous crust, which i saw and examined at iquique. ( / . "on the geology of bolivia and southern peru," by d. forbes, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xvii., page , . mr. forbes attributes the formation of the saline deposits to lagoons of salt water, the communication of which with the sea has been cut off by the rising of the land (loc. cit., page ).) i often speculated on the greater rise inland of the cordilleras, and could never satisfy myself... i have not read stur, and am awfully behindhand in many things...( / . the end of this letter is published as a footnote in "life and letters," ii., page .) (figure . map of part of south america and the galapagos archipelago.) letter . to c. lyell. down, july th [ ]. ( / . the first part of this letter is published in "life and letters," iii., page .) ( / . tahiti (society islands) is coloured blue in the map showing the distribution of the different kinds of reefs in "the structure and distribution of coral reefs," edition iii., , page . the blue colour indicates the existence of barrier reefs and atolls which, on darwin's theory, point to subsidence.) tahiti is, i believe, rightly coloured, for the reefs are so far from the land, and the ocean so deep, that there must have been subsidence, though not very recently. i looked carefully, and there is no evidence of recent elevation. i quite agree with you versus herschel on volcanic islands. ( / . sir john herschel suggested that the accumulation on the sea-floor of sediment, derived from the waste of the island, presses down the bed of the ocean, the continent being on the other hand relieved of pressure; "this brings about a state of strain in the crust which will crack in its weakest spot, the heavy side going down, and the light side rising." in discussing this view lyell writes ("principles," volume ii. edition x., page ), "this hypothesis appears to me of very partial application, for active volcanoes, even such as are on the borders of continents, are rarely situated where great deltas have been forming, whether in pliocene or post-tertiary times. the number, also, of active volcanoes in oceanic islands is very great, not only in the pacific, but equally in the atlantic, where no load of coral matter...can cause a partial weighting and pressing down of a supposed flexible crust.") would not the atlantic and antarctic volcanoes be the best examples for you, as there then can be no coral mud to depress the bottom? in my "volcanic islands," page , i just suggest that volcanoes may occur so frequently in the oceanic areas as the surface would be most likely to crack when first being elevated. i find one remark, page ( / . "volcanic islands," page : "the islands, moreover, of some of the small volcanic groups, which thus border continents, are placed in lines related to those along which the adjoining shores of the continents trend" [see figure ].), which seems to me worth consideration--viz. the parallelism of the lines of eruption in volcanic archipelagoes with the coast lines of the nearest continent, for this seems to indicate a mechanical rather than a chemical connection in both cases, i.e. the lines of disturbance and cracking. in my "south american geology," page ( / . "geological observations on south america," london, , page .), i allude to the remarkable absence at present of active volcanoes on the east side of the cordillera in relation to the absence of the sea on this side. yet i must own i have long felt a little sceptical on the proximity of water being the exciting cause. the one volcano in the interior of asia is said, i think, to be near great lakes; but if lakes are so important, why are there not many other volcanoes within other continents? i have always felt rather inclined to look at the position of volcanoes on the borders of continents, as resulting from coast lines being the lines of separation between areas of elevation and subsidence. but it is useless in me troubling you with my old speculations. letter . to a.r. wallace. march nd [ ]. ( / . the following extract from a letter to mr. wallace refers to his "malay archipelago," .) i have only one criticism of a general nature, and i am not sure that other geologists would agree with me. you repeatedly speak as if the pouring out of lava, etc., from volcanoes actually caused the subsidence of an adjoining area. i quite agree that areas undergoing opposite movements are somehow connected; but volcanic outbursts must, i think, be looked at as mere accidents in the swelling up of a great dome or surface of plutonic rocks, and there seems no more reason to conclude that such swelling or elevation in mass is the cause of the subsidence, than that the subsidence is the cause of the elevation, which latter view is indeed held by some geologists. i have regretted to find so little about the habits of the many animals which you have seen. letter . to c. lyell. down, may th, . i have been much pleased to hear that you have been looking at my s. american book ( / . "geological observations on south america," london, .), which i thought was as completely dead and gone as any pre-cambrian fossil. you are right in supposing that my memory about american geology has grown very hazy. i remember, however, a paper on the cordillera by d. forbes ( / . "geology of bolivia and south peru," by forbes, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xvii., pages - , . forbes admits that there is "the fullest evidence of elevation of the chile coast since the arrival of the spaniards. north of arica, if we accept the evidence of m. d'orbigny and others, the proof of elevation is much more decided; and consequently it may be possible that here, as is the case about lima, according to darwin, the elevation may have taken place irregularly in places..." (loc. cit., page ).), with splendid sections, which i saw in ms., but whether "referred" to me or lent to me i cannot remember. this would be well worth your looking to, as i think he both supports and criticises my views. in ormerod's index to the journal ( / . "classified index to the transactions, proceedings and quarterly journal of the geological society."), which i do not possess, you would, no doubt, find a reference; but i think the sections would be worth borrowing from forbes. domeyko ( / . reference is made by forbes in his paper on bolivia and peru to the work of ignacio domeyko on the geology of chili. several papers by this author were published in the "annales des mines" between and , also in the "comptes rendus" of , , etc.) has published in the "comptes rendus" papers on chili, but not, as far as i can remember, on the structure of the mountains. forbes, however, would know. what you say about the plications being steepest in the central and generally highest part of the range is conclusive to my mind that there has been the chief axis of disturbance. the lateral thrusting has always appeared to me fearfully perplexing. i remember formerly thinking that all lateral flexures probably occurred deep beneath the surface, and have been brought into view by an enormous superincumbent mass having been denuded. if a large and deep box were filled with layers of damp paper or clay, and a blunt wedge was slowly driven up from beneath, would not the layers above it and on both sides become greatly convoluted, whilst those towards the top would be only slightly arched? when i spoke of the andes being comparatively recent, i suppose that i referred to the absence of the older formations. in looking to my volume, which i have not done for many years, i came upon a passage (page ) which would be worth your looking at, if you have ever felt perplexed, as i often was, about the sources of volcanic rocks in mountain chains. you have stirred up old memories, and at the risk of being a bore i should like to call your attention to another point which formerly perplexed me much--viz. the presence of basaltic dikes in most great granitic areas. i cannot but think the explanation given at page of my "volcanic islands" is the true one. ( / . on page of the "geological observations on the volcanic islands visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle,'" , darwin quotes several instances of greenstone and basaltic dikes intersecting granitic and allied metamorphic rocks. he suggests that these dikes "have been formed by fissures penetrating into partially cooled rocks of the granitic and metamorphic series, and by their more fluid parts, consisting chiefly of hornblende oozing out, and being sucked into such fissures.") letter . to victor carus. down, march st, . the very kind expressions in your letter have gratified me deeply. i quite forget what i said about my geological works, but the papers referred to in your letter are the right ones. i enclose a list with those which are certainly not worth translating marked with a red line; but whether those which are not thus marked with a red line are worth translation you will have to decide. i think much more highly of my book on "volcanic islands" since mr. judd, by far the best judge on the subject in england, has, as i hear, learnt much from it. i think the short paper on the "formation of mould" is worth translating, though, if i have time and strength, i hope to write another and longer paper on the subject. i can assure you that the idea of any one translating my books better than you never even momentarily crossed my mind. i am glad that you can give a fairly good account of your health, or at least that it is not worse. letter . to t. mellard reade. london, december th, . i am sorry to say that i do not return home till the middle of next week, and as i order no pamphlets to be forwarded to me by post, i cannot return the "geolog. mag." until my return home, nor could my servants pick it out of the multitude which come by the post. ( / . article on "oceanic islands," by t. mellard reade, "geol. mag." volume viii., page , .) as i remarked in a letter to a friend, with whom i was discussing wallace's last book ( / . wallace's "island life," .), the subject to which you refer seems to me a most perplexing one. the fact which i pointed out many years ago, that all oceanic islands are volcanic (except st. paul's, and now this is viewed by some as the nucleus of an ancient volcano), seems to me a strong argument that no continent ever occupied the great oceans. ( / . "during my investigations on coral reefs i had occasion to consult the works of many voyagers, and i was invariably struck with the fact that, with rare exceptions, the innumerable islands scattered through the pacific, indian, and atlantic oceans were composed either of volcanic or of modern coral rocks" ("geological observations on volcanic islands, etc." edition ii., , page ).) then there comes the statement from the "challenger" that all sediment is deposited within one or two hundred miles from the shores, though i should have thought this rather doubtful with respect to great rivers like the amazons. the chalk formerly seemed to me the best case of an ocean having extended where a continent now stands; but it seems that some good judges deny that the chalk is an oceanic deposit. on the whole, i lean to the side that the continents have since cambrian times occupied approximately their present positions. but, as i have said, the question seems a difficult one, and the more it is discussed the better. letter . to a. agassiz. down, january st, . i must write a line or two to thank you much for having written to me so long a letter on coral reefs at a time when you must have been so busy. is it not difficult to avoid believing that the wonderful elevation in the west indies must have been accompanied by much subsidence, notwithstanding the state of florida? ( / . the florida reefs cannot be explained by subsidence. alexander agassiz, who has described these reefs in detail ("three cruises of the u.s. coast and geodetic survey steamer 'blake,'" volumes, london, ), shows that the southern extremity of the peninsula "is of comparatively recent growth, consisting of concentric barrier-reefs, which have been gradually converted into land by the accumulation of intervening mud-flats" (see also appendix ii., page , to darwin's "coral reefs," by t.g. bonney, edition iii., .)) when reflecting in old days on the configuration of our continents, the position of mountain chains, and especially on the long-continued supply of sediment over the same areas, i used to think (as probably have many other persons) that areas of elevation and subsidence must as a general rule be separated by a single great line of fissure, or rather of several closely adjoining lines of fissure. i mention this because, when looking within more recent times at charts with the depths of the sea marked by different tints, there seems to be some connection between the profound depths of the ocean and the trends of the nearest, though distant, continents; and i have often wished that some one like yourself, to whom the subject was familiar, would speculate on it. p.s.--i do hope that you will re-urge your views about the reappearance of old characters ( / . see "life and letters," iii., pages , .), for, as far as i can judge, the most important views are often neglected unless they are urged and re-urged. i am greatly indebted to you for sending me very many most valuable works published at your institution. .ix.ii. ice-action, - . letter . to c. lyell. [ .] your extract has set me puzzling very much, and as i find i am better at present for not going out, you must let me unload my mind on paper. i thought everything so beautifully clear about glaciers, but now your case and agassiz's statement about the cavities in the rock formed by cascades in the glaciers, shows me i don't understand their structure at all. i wish out of pure curiosity i could make it out. ( / . "etudes sur les glaciers," by louis agassiz, , contains a description of cascades (page ), and "des cavites interieures" (page ).) if the glacier travelled on (and it certainly does travel on), and the water kept cutting back over the edge of the ice, there would be a great slit in front of the cascade; if the water did not cut back, the whole hollow and cascade, as you say, must travel on; and do you suppose the next season it falls down some crevice higher up? in any case, how in the name of heaven can it make a hollow in solid rock, which surely must be a work of many years? i must point out another fact which agassiz does not, as it appears to me, leave very clear. he says all the blocks on the surface of the glaciers are angular, and those in the moraines rounded, yet he says the medial moraines whence the surface rocks come and are a part [of], are only two lateral moraines united. can he refer to terminal moraines alone when he says fragments in moraines are rounded? what a capital book agassiz's is. in [reading] all the early part i gave up entirely the jura blocks, and was heartily ashamed of my appendix ( / . "m. agassiz has lately written on the subject of the glaciers and boulders of the alps. he clearly proves, as it appears to me, that the presence of the boulders on the jura cannot be explained by any debacle, or by the power of ancient glaciers driving before them moraines...m. agassiz also denies that they were transported by floating ice." ("voyages of the 'adventure' and 'beagle,'" volume iii., : "journal and remarks: addenda," page .)) (and am so still of the manner in which i presumptuously speak of agassiz), but it seems by his own confession that ordinary glaciers could not have transported the blocks there, and if an hypothesis is to be introduced the sea is much simpler; floating ice seems to me to account for everything as well as, and sometimes better than the solid glaciers. the hollows, however, formed by the ice-cascades appear to me the strongest hostile fact, though certainly, as you said, one sees hollow round cavities on present rock-beaches. i am glad to observe that agassiz does not pretend that direction of scratches is hostile to floating ice. by the way, how do you and buckland account for the "tails" of diluvium in scotland? ( / . mr. darwin speaks of the tails of diluvium in scotland extending from the protected side of a hill, of which the opposite side, facing the direction from which the ice came, is marked by grooves and striae (loc. cit., pages , ).) i thought in my appendix this made out the strongest argument for rocks having been scratched by floating ice. some facts about boulders in chiloe will, i think, in a very small degree elucidate some parts of jura case. what a grand new feature all this ice work is in geology! how old hutton would have stared! ( / . sir charles lyell speaks of the huttonian theory as being characterised by "the exclusion of all causes not supposed to belong to the present order of nature" (lyell's "principles," edition xii., volume i., page , ). sir archibald geikie has recently edited the third volume of hutton's "theory of the earth," printed by the geological society, . see also "the founders of geology," by sir archibald geikie; london, .) i ought to be ashamed of myself for scribbling on so. talking of shame, i have sent a copy of my "journal" ( / . "journal and remarks," - . see note , page .) with very humble note to agassiz, as an apology for the tone i used, though i say, i daresay he has never seen my appendix, or would care at all about it. i did not suppose my note about glen roy could have been of any use to you--i merely scribbled what came uppermost. i made one great oversight, as you would perceive. i forgot the glacier theory: if a glacier most gradually disappeared from mouth of spean valley [this] would account for buttresses of shingle below lowest shelf. the difficulty i put about the ice-barrier of the middle glen roy shelf keeping so long at exactly same level does certainly appear to me insuperable. ( / . for a description of the shelves or parallel roads in glen roy see darwin's "observations on the parallel roads of glen roy, etc." "phil. trans. r. soc." , page ; also letter et seq.) what a wonderful fact this breakdown of old niagara is. how it disturbs the calculations about lengths of time before the river would have reached the lakes. i hope mrs. lyell will read this to you, then i shall trust for forgiveness for having scribbled so much. i should have sent back agassiz sooner, but my servant has been very unwell. emma is going on pretty well. my paper on south american boulders and "till," which latter deposit is perfectly characterised in tierra del fuego, is progressing rapidly. ( / . "on the distribution of the erratic boulders and on the contemporaneous unstratified deposits of south america," "trans. geol. soc." volume vi., page , .) i much like the term post-pliocene, and will use it in my present paper several times. p.s.--i should have thought that the most obvious objection to the marine-beach theory for glen roy would be the limited extension of the shelves. though certainly this is not a valid one, after an intermediate one, only half a mile in length, and nowhere else appearing, even in the valley of glen roy itself, has been shown to exist. letter . to c. lyell. . i had some talk with murchison, who has been on a flying visit into wales, and he can see no traces of glaciers, but only of the trickling of water and of the roots of the heath. it is enough to make an extraneous man think geology from beginning to end a work of imagination, and not founded on observation. lonsdale, i observe, pays buckland and myself the compliment of thinking murchison not seeing as worth nothing; but i confess i am astonished, so glaringly clear after two or three days did the evidence appear to me. have you seen last "new edin. phil. journ.", it is ice and glaciers almost from beginning to end. ( / . "the edinburgh new philosophical journal," volume xxxiii. (april-october), , contains papers by sir g.s. mackenzie, prof. h.g. brown, jean de charpentier, roderick murchison, louis agassiz, all dealing with glaciers or ice; also letters to the editor relating to prof. forbes' account of his recent observations on glaciers, and a paper by charles darwin entitled "notes on the effects produced by the ancient glaciers of carnarvonshire, and on the boulders transported by floating ice.") agassiz says he saw (and has laid down) the two lowest terraces of glen roy in the valley of the spean, opposite mouth of glen roy itself, where no one else has seen them. ( / . "the glacial theory and its recent progress," by louis agassiz, loc. cit., page . agassiz describes the parallel terraces on the flanks of glen roy and glen spean (page ), and expresses himself convinced "that the glacial theory alone satisfies all the exigencies of the phenomenon" of the parallel roads.) i carefully examined that spot, owing to the sheep tracks [being] nearly but not quite parallel to the terrace. so much, again, for difference of observation. i do not pretend to say who is right. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october th, . i was heartily glad to get your last letter; but on my life your thanks for my very few and very dull letters quite scalded me. i have been very indolent and selfish in not having oftener written to you and kept my ears open for news which would have interested you; but i have not forgotten you. two days after receiving your letter, there was a short leading notice about you in the "gardeners' chronicle" ( / . the "gardeners' chronicle," , page .); in which it is said you have discovered a noble crimson rose and thirty rhododendrons. i must heartily congratulate you on these discoveries, which will interest the public; and i have no doubt that you will have made plenty of most interesting botanical observations. this last letter shall be put with all your others, which are now safe together. i am very glad that you have got minute details about the terraces in the valleys: your description sounds curiously like the terraces in the cordillera of chili; these latter, however, are single in each valley; but you will hereafter see a description of these terraces in my "geology of s. america." ( / . "geological observations," pages et passim.) at the end of your letter you speak about giving up geology, but you must not think of it; i am sure your observations will be very interesting. your account of the great dam in the yangma valley is most curious, and quite full; i find that i did not at all understand its wonderful structure in your former letter. your notion of glaciers pushing detritus into deep fiords (and ice floating fragments on their channels), is in many respects new to me; but i cannot help believing your dam is a lateral moraine: i can hardly persuade myself that the remains of floating ice action, at a period so immensely remote as when the himalaya stood at a low level in the sea, would now be distinguishable. ( / . hooker's "himalayan journals," volume ii., page , . in describing certain deposits in the lachoong valley, hooker writes: "glaciers might have forced immense beds of gravel into positions that would dam up lakes between the ice and the flanks of the valley" (page ). in a footnote he adds: "we are still very ignorant of many details of ice action, and especially of the origin of many enormous deposits which are not true moraines." such deposits are referred to as occurring in the yangma valley.) your not having found scored boulders and solid rocks is an objection both to glaciers and floating ice; for it is certain that both produce such. i believe no rocks escape scoring, polishing and mammillation in the alps, though some lose it easily when exposed. are you familiar with appearance of ice-action? if i understand rightly, you object to the great dam having been produced by a glacier, owing to the dryness of the lateral valley and general infrequency of glaciers in himalaya; but pray observe that we may fairly (from what we see in europe) assume that the climate was formerly colder in india, and when the land stood at a lower height more snow might have fallen. oddly enough, i am now inclined to believe that i saw a gigantic moraine crossing a valley, and formerly causing a lake above it in one of the great valleys (valle del yeso) of the cordillera: it is a mountain of detritus, which has puzzled me. if you have any further opportunities, do look for scores on steep faces of rock; and here and there remove turf or matted parts to have a look. again i beg, do not give up geology:--i wish you had agassiz's work and plates on glaciers. ( / . "etudes sur les glaciers." l. agassiz, neuchatel, .) i am extremely sorry that the rajah, ill luck to him, has prevented your crossing to thibet; but you seem to have seen most interesting country: one is astonished to hear of fuegian climate in india. i heard from the sabines that you were thinking of giving up borneo; i hope that this report may prove true. letter . to c. lyell. down, may th [ ]. the notion you refer to was published in the "geological journal" ( / . "on the transportal of erratic boulders from a lower to a higher level." by c. darwin.), volume iv. ( ), page , with reference to all the cases which i could collect of boulders apparently higher than the parent rock. the argument of probable proportion of rock dropped by sea ice compared to land glaciers is new to me. i have often thought of the idea of the viscosity and enormous momentum of great icebergs, and still think that the notion i pointed out in appendix to ramsay's paper is probable, and can hardly help being applicable in some cases. ( / . the paper by ramsay has no appendix; probably, therefore mr. darwin's notes were published separately as a paper in the "phil. mag.") i wonder whether the "phil. journal [magazine?.]" would publish it, if i could get it from ramsay or the geological society. ( / . "on the power of icebergs to make rectilinear, uniformly-directed grooves across a submarine undulatory surface." by c. darwin, "phil. mag." volume x., page , .) if you chance to meet ramsay will you ask him whether he has it? i think it would perhaps be worth while just to call the n. american geologists' attention to the idea; but it is not worth any trouble. i am tremendously busy with all sorts of experiments. by the way, hopkins at the geological society seemed to admit some truth in the idea of scoring by (viscid) icebergs. if the geological society takes so much [time] to judge of truth of notions, as you were telling me in regard to ramsay's permian glaciers ( / . "on the occurrence of angular, sub-angular, polished, and striated fragments and boulders in the permian breccia of shropshire, worcestershire, etc.; and on the probable existence of glaciers and icebergs in the permian epoch." by a.c. ramsay, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xi., page , .), it will be as injurious to progress as the french institut. letter . to j.d. hooker. cliff cottage, bournemouth, [september] st [ ]. i am especially obliged to you for sending me haast's communications. ( / . "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxi., pages , , ; volume xxiii., page , .) they are very interesting and grand about glacial and drift or marine glacial. i see he alludes to the whole southern hemisphere. i wonder whether he has read the "origin." considering your facts on the alpine plants of new zealand and remarks, i am particularly glad to hear of the geological evidence of glacial action. i presume he is sure to collect and send over the mountain rat of which he speaks. i long to know what it is. a frog and rat together would, to my mind, prove former connection of new zealand to some continent; for i can hardly suppose that the polynesians introduced the rat as game, though so esteemed in the friendly islands. ramsay sent me his paper ( / . "on the glacial origin of certain lakes in switzerland, etc." "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., page , .) and asked my opinion on it. i agree with you and think highly of it. i cannot doubt that it is to a large extent true; my only doubt is, that in a much disturbed country, i should have thought that some depressions, and consequently lakes, would almost certainly have been left. i suggested a careful consideration of mountainous tropical countries such as brazil, peninsula of india, etc.; if lakes are there, [they are] very rare. i should fully subscribe to ramsay's views. what presumption, as it seems to me, in the council of geological society that it hesitated to publish the paper. we return home on the th. i have made up [my] mind, if i can keep up my courage, to start on the saturday for cambridge, and stay the last few days of the [british] association there. i do so hope that you may be there then. letter . to j.d. hooker. november rd [ ]. when i wrote to you i had not read ramsay. ( / . "on the erosion of valleys and lakes: a reply to sir roderick murchison's anniversary address to the geographical society." "phil. mag." volume xxviii., page , ) how capitally it is written! it seems that there is nothing for style like a man's dander being put up. i think i agree largely with you about denudation--but the rocky-lake-basin theory is the part which interests me at present. it seems impossible to know how much to attribute to ice, running water, and sea. i did not suppose that ramsay would deny that mountains had been thrown up irregularly, and that the depressions would become valleys. the grandest valleys i ever saw were at tahiti, and here i do not believe ice has done anything; anyhow there were no erratics. i said in my s. american geology ( / . "finally, the conclusion at which i have arrived with respect to the relative powers of rain, and sea-water on the land is, that the latter is by far the most efficient agent, and that its chief tendency is to widen the valleys, whilst torrents and rivers tend to deepen them and to remove the wreck of the sea's destroying action" ("geol. observations," pages , ).) that rivers deepen and the sea widens valleys, and i am inclined largely to stick to this, adding ice to water. i am sorry to hear that tyndall has grown dogmatic. h. wedgwood was saying the other day that t.'s writings and speaking gave him the idea of intense conceit. i hope it is not so, for he is a grand man of science. ...i have had a prospectus and letter from andrew murray ( / . see volume ii., letters , , etc.) asking me for suggestions. i think this almost shows he is not fit for the subject, as he gives me no idea what his book will be, excepting that the printed paper shows that all animals and all plants of all groups are to be treated of. do you know anything of his knowledge? in about a fortnight i shall have finished, except concluding chapter, my book on "variation under domestication"; ( / . published in .) but then i have got to go over the whole again, and this will take me very many months. i am able to work about two hours daily. letter . to j.d. hooker. down [july, ]. i was glad to read your article on glaciers, etc., in yorkshire. you seem to have been struck with what most deeply impressed me at glen roy (wrong as i was on the whole subject)--viz. the marvellous manner in which every detail of surface of land had been preserved for an enormous period. this makes me a little sceptical whether ramsay, jukes, etc., are not a little overdoing sub-aerial denudation. in the same "reader" ( / . sir j.d. hooker wrote to darwin, july th, , from high force inn, middleton, teesdale: "i am studying the moraines all day long with as much enthusiasm as i am capable of after lying in bed till nine, eating heavy breakfasts, and looking forward to dinner as the summum bonum of existence." the result of his work, under the title "moraines of the tees valley," appeared in the "reader" (july th, , page ), of which huxley was one of the managers or committee-men, and norman lockyer was scientific editor ("life and letters of t.h. huxley," i., page ). hooker describes the moraines and other evidence of glacial action in the upper part of the tees valley, and speaks of the effect of glaciers in determining the present physical features of the country.) there was a striking article on english and foreign men of science ( / . "british and foreign science," "the reader," loc. cit., page . the writer of the article asserts the inferiority of english scientific workers.), and i think unjust to england except in pure physiology; in biology owen and r. brown ought to save us, and in geology we are most rich. it is curious how we are reading the same books. we intend to read lecky and certainly to re-read buckle--which latter i admired greatly before. i am heartily glad you like lubbock's book so much. it made me grieve his taking to politics, and though i grieve that he has lost his election, yet i suppose, now that he is once bitten, he will never give up politics, and science is done for. many men can make fair m.p.'s; and how few can work in science like him! i have been reading a pamphlet by verlot on "variation of flowers," which seems to me very good; but i doubt whether it would be worth your reading. it was published originally in the "journal d'hort.," and so perhaps you have seen it. it is a very good plan this republishing separately for sake of foreigners buying, and i wish i had tried to get permission of linn. soc. for my climbing paper, but it is now too late. do not forget that you have my paper on hybridism, by max wichura. ( / . wichura, m.e., "l'hybridisation dans le regne vegetal etudiee sur les saules," "arch. sci. phys. nat." xxiii., page , .) i hope you are returned to your work, refreshed like a giant by your huge breakfasts. how unlucky you are about contagious complaints with your children! i keep very weak, and had much sickness yesterday, but am stronger this morning. can you remember how we ever first met? ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page .) it was in park street; but what brought us together? i have been re-reading a few old letters of yours, and my heart is very warm towards you. letter . to c. lyell. down, march th [ ]. ( / . in a letter from sir joseph hooker to mr. darwin on february st, , the following passage occurs: "i wish i could explain to you my crude notions as to the glacial period and your position towards it. i suppose i hold this doctrine: that there was a glacial period, but that it was not one of universal cold, because i think that the existing distribution of glaciers is sufficiently demonstrative of the proposition that by comparatively slight redispositions of sea and land, and perhaps axis of globe, you may account for all the leading palaeontological phenomena." this letter was sent by mr. darwin to sir charles lyell, and the latter, writing on march st, , expresses his belief that "the whole globe must at times have been superficially cooler. still," he adds, "during extreme excentricity the sun would make great efforts to compensate in perihelion for the chill of a long winter in aphelion in one hemisphere, and a cool summer in the other. i think you will turn out to be right in regard to meridional lines of mountain-chains by which the migrations across the equator took place while there was contemporaneous tropical heat of certain lowlands, where plants requiring heat and moisture were saved from extinction by the heat of the earth's surface, which was stored up in perihelion, being prevented from radiating off freely into space by a blanket of aqueous vapour caused by the melting of ice and snow. but though i am inclined to profit by croll's maximum excentricity for the glacial period, i consider it quite subordinate to geographical causes or the relative position of land and sea and the abnormal excess of land in polar regions." in another letter (march th, ) lyell writes: "in the beginning of hooker's letter to you he speaks hypothetically of a change in the earth's axis as having possibly co-operated with redistribution of land and sea in causing the cold of the glacial period. now, when we consider how extremely modern, zoologically and botanically, the glacial period is proved to be, i am shocked at any one introducing, with what i may call so much levity, so organic a change as a deviation in the axis of the planet...' (see lyell's "principles," , chapter xiii.; also a letter to sir joseph hooker printed in the "life of sir charles lyell," volume ii., page .)) many thanks for your interesting letter. from the serene elevation of my old age i look down with amazement at your youth, vigour, and indomitable energy. with respect to hooker and the axis of the earth, i suspect he is too much overworked to consider now any subject properly. his mind is so acute and critical that i always expect to hear a torrent of objections to anything proposed; but he is so candid that he often comes round in a year or two. i have never thought on the causes of the glacial period, for i feel that the subject is beyond me; but though i hope you will own that i have generally been a good and docile pupil to you, yet i must confess that i cannot believe in change of land and water, being more than a subsidiary agent. ( / . in chapter xi. of the "origin," edition v., , page , darwin discusses croll's theory, and is clearly inclined to trust in croll's conclusion that "whenever the northern hemisphere passes through a cold period the temperature of the southern hemisphere is actually raised..." in edition vi., page , he expresses his faith even more strongly. mr. darwin apparently sent his ms. on the climate question, which was no doubt prepared for a new edition of the "origin," to sir charles. the arrival of the ms. is acknowledged in a letter from lyell on march th, ("life of sir charles lyell," ii., page ), in which the writer says that he is "more than ever convinced that geographical changes...are the principal and not the subsidiary causes.") i have come to this conclusion from reflecting on the geographical distribution of the inhabitants of the sea on the opposite sides of our continents and of the inhabitants of the continents themselves. letter . to c. lyell. down, september th [ ]. many thanks for the pamphlet, which was returned this morning. i was very glad to read it, though chiefly as a psychological curiosity. i quite follow you in thinking agassiz glacier-mad. ( / . agassiz's pamphlet, ("geology of the amazons") is referred to by lyell in a letter written to bunbury in september, ("life of sir charles lyell," ii., page ): "agassiz has written an interesting paper on the 'geology of the amazons,' but, i regret to say, he has gone wild about glaciers, and has actually announced his opinion that the whole of the great valley, down to its mouth in latitude deg., was filled by ice..." agassiz published a paper, "observations geologiques faites dans la vallee de l'amazone," in the "comptes rendus," volume lxiv., page , . see also a letter addressed to m. marcou, published in the "bull. soc. geol. france," volume xxiv., page , .) his evidence reduces itself to supposed moraines, which would be difficult to trace in a forest-clad country; and with respect to boulders, these are not said to be angular, and their source cannot be known in a country so imperfectly explored. when i was at rio, i was continually astonished at the depth (sometimes feet) to which the granitic rocks were decomposed in situ, and this soft matter would easily give rise to great alluvial accumulations; i well remember finding it difficult to draw a line between the alluvial matter and the softened rock in situ. what a splendid imagination agassiz has, and how energetic he is! what capital work he would have done, if he had sucked in your "principles" with his mother's milk. it is wonderful that he should have written such wild nonsense about the valley of the amazon; yet not so wonderful when one remembers that he once maintained before the british association that the chalk was all deposited at once. with respect to the insects of chili, i knew only from bates that the species of carabus showed no special affinity to northern species; from the great difference of climate and vegetation i should not have expected that many insects would have shown such affinity. it is more remarkable that the birds on the broad and lofty cordillera of tropical s. america show no affinity with european species. the little power of diffusion with birds has often struck me as a most singular fact--even more singular than the great power of diffusion with plants. remember that we hope to see you in the autumn. p.s.--there is a capital paper in the september number of "annals and magazine," translated from pictet and humbert, on fossil fish of lebanon, but you will, i daresay, have received the original. ( / . "recent researches on the fossil fishes of mount lebanon," "ann. mag. nat. hist." volume xviii., page , .) it is capital in relation to modification of species; i would not wish for more confirmatory facts, though there is no direct allusion to the modification of species. hooker, by the way, gave an admirable lecture at nottingham; i read it in ms., or rather, heard it. i am glad it will be published, for it was capital. ( / . sir joseph hooker delivered a lecture at the nottingham meeting of the british association ( ) on "insular floras," published in the "gardeners' chronicle," . see letters - , etc.) sunday morning. p.s.--i have just received a letter from asa gray with the following passage, so that, according to this, i am the chief cause of agassiz's absurd views:-- "agassiz is back (i have not seen him), and he went at once down to the national academy of sciences, from which i sedulously keep away, and, i hear, proved to them that the glacial period covered the whole continent of america with unbroken ice, and closed with a significant gesture and the remark: 'so here is the end of the darwin theory.' how do you like that? "i said last winter that agassiz was bent on covering the whole continent with ice, and that the motive of the discovery he was sure to make was to make sure that there should be no coming down of any terrestrial life from tertiary or post-tertiary period to ours. you cannot deny that he has done his work effectually in a truly imperial way." letter . to c. lyell. down, july th, . mr. agassiz's book has been read aloud to me, and i am wonderfully perplexed what to think about his precise statements of the existence of glaciers in the ceara mountains, and about the drift formation near rio. ( / . "sur la geologie de l'amazone," by mm. agassiz and continho, "bull. soc. geol. france," volume xxv., page , . see also "a journey in brazil," by professor and mrs. louis agassiz, boston, .) there is a sad want of details. thus he never mentions whether any of the blocks are angular, nor whether the embedded rounded boulders, which cannot all be disintegrated, are scored. yet how can so experienced an observer as a. be deceived about lateral and terminal moraines? if there really were glaciers in the ceara mountains, it seems to me one of the most important facts in the history of the inorganic and organic world ever observed. whether true or not, it will be widely believed, and until finally decided will greatly interfere with future progress on many points. i have made these remarks in the hope that you will coincide. if so, do you think it would be possible to persuade some known man, such as ramsay, or, what would be far better, some two men, to go out for a summer trip, which would be in many respects delightful, for the sole object of observing these phenomena in the ceara mountains, and if possible also near rio? i would gladly put my name down for pounds in aid of the expense of travelling. do turn this over in your mind. i am so very sorry not to have seen you this summer, but for the last three weeks i have been good for nothing, and have had to stop almost all work. i hope we may meet in the autumn. letter . to james croll. down, november th, . i have read with the greatest interest the last paper which you have kindly sent me. ( / . croll discussed the power of icebergs as grinding and striating agents in the latter part of a paper ("on geological time, and the probable dates of the glacial and the upper miocene period") published in the "philosophical magazine," volume xxxv., page , , volume xxxvi., pages , , . his conclusion was that the advocates of the iceberg theory had formed "too extravagant notions regarding the potency of floating ice as a striating agent.") if we are to admit that all the scored rocks throughout the more level parts of the united states result from true glacier action, it is a most wonderful conclusion, and you certainly make out a very strong case; so i suppose i must give up one more cherished belief. but my object in writing is to trespass on your kindness and ask a question, which i daresay i could answer for myself by reading more carefully, as i hope hereafter to do, all your papers; but i shall feel much more confidence in a brief reply from you. am i right in supposing that you believe that the glacial periods have always occurred alternately in the northern and southern hemispheres, so that the erratic deposits which i have described in the southern parts of america, and the glacial work in new zealand, could not have been simultaneous with our glacial period? from the glacial deposits occurring all round the northern hemisphere, and from such deposits appearing in s. america to be as recent as in the north, and lastly, from there being some evidence of the former lower descent of glaciers all along the cordilleras, i inferred that the whole world was at this period cooler. it did not appear to me justifiable without distinct evidence to suppose that the n. and s. glacial deposits belonged to distinct epochs, though it would have been an immense relief to my mind if i could have assumed that this had been the case. secondly, do you believe that during the glacial period in one hemisphere the opposite hemisphere actually becomes warmer, or does it merely retain the same temperature as before? i do not ask these questions out of mere curiosity; but i have to prepare a new edition of my "origin of species," and am anxious to say a few words on this subject on your authority. i hope that you will excuse my troubling you. letter . to j. croll. down, january st, . to-morrow i will return registered your book, which i have kept so long. i am most sincerely obliged for its loan, and especially for the ms., without which i should have been afraid of making mistakes. if you require it, the ms. shall be returned. your results have been of more use to me than, i think, any other set of papers which i can remember. sir c. lyell, who is staying here, is very unwilling to admit the greater warmth of the s. hemisphere during the glacial period in the n.; but, as i have told him, this conclusion which you have arrived at from physical considerations, explains so well whole classes of facts in distribution, that i must joyfully accept it; indeed, i go so far as to think that your conclusion is strengthened by the facts in distribution. your discussion on the flowing of the great ice-cap southward is most interesting. i suppose that you have read mr. moseley's recent discussion on the force of gravity being quite insufficient to account for the downward movement of glaciers ( / . canon henry moseley, "on the mechanical impossibility of the descent of glaciers by their weight only." "proc. r. soc." volume xvii., page , ; "phil. mag." volume xxxvii., page , .): if he is right, do you not think that the unknown force may make more intelligible the extension of the great northern ice-cap? notwithstanding your excellent remarks on the work which can be effected within the million years ( / . in his paper "on geological time, and the probable date of the glacial and the upper miocene period" ("phil. mag." volume xxxv., page , ), croll endeavours to convey to the mind some idea of what a million years really is: "take a narrow strip of paper, an inch broad or more, and feet inches in length, and stretch it along the wall of a large hall, or round the walls of an apartment somewhat over feet square. recall to memory the days of your boyhood, so as to get some adequate conception of what a period of a hundred years is. then mark off from one of the ends of the strip one-tenth of an inch. the one-tenth of an inch will then represent a hundred years, and the entire length of the strip a million of years" (loc. cit., page ).), i am greatly troubled at the short duration of the world according to sir w. thomson ( / . in a paper communicated to the royal society of edinburgh, lord kelvin (then sir william thomson) stated his belief that the age of our planet must be more than twenty millions of years, but not more than four hundred millions of years ("trans. r. soc. edinb." volume xxiii., page , , "on the secular cooling of the earth."). this subject has been recently dealt with by sir archibald geikie in his address as president of the geological section of the british association, ("brit. assoc. report," dover meeting, , page ).), for i require for my theoretical views a very long period before the cambrian formation. if it would not trouble you, i should like to hear what you think of lyell's remark on the magnetic force which comes from the sun to the earth: might not this penetrate the crust of the earth and then be converted into heat? this would give a somewhat longer time during which the crust might have been solid; and this is the argument on which sir w. thomson seems chiefly to rest. you seem to argue chiefly on the expenditure of energy of all kinds by the sun, and in this respect lyell's remark would have no bearing. my new edition of the "origin" ( / . fifth edition, may, .) will be published, i suppose, in about two months, and for the chance of your liking to have a copy i will send one. p.s.--i wish that you would turn your astronomical knowledge to the consideration whether the form of the globe does not become periodically slightly changed, so as to account for the many repeated ups and downs of the surface in all parts of the world. i have always thought that some cosmical cause would some day be discovered. letter . to c. lyell. down, july th [ ]. i have been glad to see the enclosed and return it. it seems to me very cool in agassiz to doubt the recent upheaval of patagonia, without having visited any part; and he entirely misrepresents me in saying that i infer upheaval from the form of the land, as i trusted entirely to shells embedded and on the surface. it is simply monstrous to suppose that the terraces stretching on a dead level for leagues along the coast, and miles in breadth, and covered with beds of stratified gravel, to feet in thickness, are due to subaerial denudation. as for the pond of salt-water twice or thrice the density of sea-water, and nearly dry, containing sea-shells in the same relative proportions as on the adjoining coast, it almost passes my belief. could there have been a lively midshipman on board, who in the morning stocked the pool from the adjoining coast? as for glaciation, i will not venture to express any opinion, for when in s. america i knew nothing about glaciers, and perhaps attributed much to icebergs which ought to be attributed to glaciers. on the other hand, agassiz seems to me mad about glaciers, and apparently never thinks of drift ice. i did see one clear case of former great extension of a glacier in t. del fuego. letter . to j. geikie. ( / . the following letter was in reply to a request from prof. james geikie for permission to publish mr. darwin's views, communicated in a previous letter (november ), on the vertical position of stones in gravelly drift near southampton. prof. geikie wrote (july th, ): "you may remember that you attributed the peculiar position of those stones to differential movements in the drift itself arising from the slow melting of beds of frozen snow interstratified into the gravels...i have found this explanation of great service even in scotland, and from what i have seen of the drift-gravels in various parts of southern england and northern france, i am inclined to think that it has a wide application.") down, july th, . your letter has pleased me very much, and i truly feel it an honour that anything which i wrote on the drift, etc., should have been of the least use or interest to you. pray make any use of my letter ( / . professor james geikie quotes the letter in "prehistoric europe," london, (page ). practically the whole of it is given in the "life and letters," iii., page .): i forget whether it was written carefully or clearly, so pray touch up any passages that you may think fit to quote. all that i have seen since near southampton and elsewhere has strengthened my notion. here i live on a chalk platform gently sloping down from the edge of the escarptment to the south ( / . id est, sloping down from the escarpment which is to the south.) (which is about feet in height) to beneath the tertiary beds to the north. the ( / . from here to the end of the paragraph is quoted by prof. geikie, loc. cit., page .) beds of the large and broad valleys (and only of these) are covered with an immense mass of closely packed broken and angular flints; in which mass the skull of the musk-ox [musk-sheep] and woolly elephant have been found. this great accumulation of unworn flints must therefore have been made when the climate was cold, and i believe it can be accounted for by the larger valleys having been filled up to a great depth during a large part of the year with drifted frozen snow, over which rubbish from the upper parts of the platforms was washed by the summer rains, sometimes along one line and sometimes along another, or in channels cut through the snow all along the main course of the broad valleys. i suppose that i formerly mentioned to you the frequent upright position of elongated flints in the red clayey residue over the chalk, which residue gradually subsides into the troughs and pipes corroded in the solid chalk. this letter is very untidy, but i am tired. p.s. several palaeolithic celts have recently been found in the great angular gravel-bed near southampton in several places. letter . to d. mackintosh. down, november th, . your discovery is a very interesting one, and i congratulate you on it. ( / . "on the precise mode of accumulation and derivation of the moel-tryfan shelly deposits; on the discovery of similar high-level deposits along the eastern slopes of the welsh mountains; and on the existence of drift-zones, showing probable variations in the rate of submergence." by d. mackintosh, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxvii., pages - , . [read april th, .]) i failed to find shells on moel tryfan, but was interested by finding ("philosoph. mag." rd series, volume xxi., page ) shattered rocks ( / . in reviewing the work by previous writers on the moel-tryfan deposits, mackintosh refers to darwin's "very suggestive description of the moel-tryfan deposits...under the drift he saw that the surface of the slate, to a depth of several feet, had been shattered and contorted in a very peculiar manner." the contortion of the slate, which mackintosh regarded as "the most interesting of the moel-tryfan phenomena," had not previously been regarded as "sufficiently striking to arrest attention" by any geologist except darwin. the pleistocene gravel and sand containing marine shells on moel-tryfan, about five miles south-east of caernarvon, have been the subject of considerable controversy. by some geologists the drift deposits have been regarded as evidence of a great submergence in post-pliocene times, while others have explained their occurrence at a height of feet by assuming that the gravel and sand had been thrust uphill by an advancing ice-sheet. (see h.b. woodward, "geology of england and wales," edition ii., , pages , .) darwin attributed the shattering and contorting of the slates below the drift to "icebergs grating over the surface.") and far-distant rounded boulders, which i attributed to the violent impact of icebergs or coast-ice. i can offer no opinion on whether the more recent changes of level in england were or were not accompanied by earthquakes. it does not seem to me a correct expression (which you use probably from haste in your note) to speak of elevations or depressions as caused by earthquakes: i suppose that every one admits that an earthquake is merely the vibration from the fractured crust when it yields to an upward or downward force. i must confess that of late years i have often begun to suspect (especially when i think of the step-like plains of patagonia, the heights of which were measured by me) that many of the changes of level in the land are due to changes of level in the sea. ( / . this view is an agreement with the theory recently put forward by suess in his "antlitz der erde" (prag and leipzig, ). suess believes that "the local invasions and transgressions of the continental areas by the sea" are due to "secular movements of the hydrosphere itself." (see j. geikie, f.r.s., presidential address before section e at the edinburgh meeting of the british association, "annual report," page .) i suppose that there can be no doubt that when there was much ice piled up in the arctic regions the sea would be attracted to them, and the land on the temperate regions would thus appear to have risen. there would also be some lowering of the sea by evaporation and the fixing of the water as ice near the pole. i shall read your paper with much interest when published. letter . to j. geikie. down, december th, . you must allow me the pleasure of thanking you for the great interest with which i have read your "prehistoric europe." ( / . "prehistoric europe: a geological sketch," london, .) nothing has struck me more than the accumulated evidence of interglacial periods, and assuredly the establishment of such periods is of paramount importance for understanding all the later changes of the earth's surface. reading your book has brought vividly before my mind the state of knowledge, or rather ignorance, half a century ago, when all superficial matter was classed as diluvium, and not considered worthy of the attention of a geologist. if you can spare the time (though i ask out of mere idle curiosity) i should like to hear what you think of mr. mackintosh's paper, illustrated by a little map with lines showing the courses or sources of the erratic boulders over the midland counties of england. ( / . "results of a systematic survey, in , of the directions and limits of dispersion, mode of occurrence, and relation to drift-deposits of the erratic blocks or boulders of the west of england and east of wales, including a revision of many years' previous observations," d. mackintosh, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxv., page , .) it is a little suspicious their ending rather abruptly near wolverhampton, yet i must think that they were transported by floating ice. fifty years ago i knew shropshire well, and cannot remember anything like till, but abundance of gravel and sand beds, with recent marine shells. a great boulder ( / . mackintosh alludes (loc. cit., page ) to felstone boulders around ashley heath, the highest ground between the pennine and welsh hills north of the wrekin; also to a boulder on the summit of the eminence ( feet above sea-level), "probably the same as that noticed many years ago by mr. darwin." in a later paper, "on the correlation of the drift-deposits of the north-west of england with those of the midland and eastern counties" ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxvi., page , ) mackintosh mentions a letter received from darwin, "who was the first to elucidate the boulder-transporting agency of floating ice," containing an account of the great ashley heath boulder, which he was the first to discover and expose,...so as to find that the block rested on fragments of new red sandstone, one of which was split into two and deeply scored...the facts mentioned in the letter from mr. darwin would seem to show that the boulder must have fallen through water from floating ice with a force sufficient to split the underlying lump of sandstone, but not sufficient to crush it.") which i had undermined on the summit of ashley heath, (?) feet above the sea, rested on clean blocks of the underlying red sandstone. i was also greatly interested by your long discussion on the loss ( / . for an account of the loss of german geologists--"a fine-grained, more or less homogeneous, consistent, non-plastic loam, consisting of an intimate admixture of clay and carbonate of lime," see j. geikie, loc. cit., page et seq.); but i do not feel satisfied that all has been made out about it. i saw much brick-earth near southampton in some manner connected with the angular gravel, but had not strength enough to make out relations. it might be worth your while to bear in mind the possibility of fine sediment washed over and interstratified with thick beds of frozen snow, and therefore ultimately dropped irrespective of the present contour of the country. i remember as a boy that it was said that the floods of the severn were more muddy when the floods were caused by melting snow than from the heaviest rains; but why this should be i cannot see. another subject has interested me much--viz. the sliding and travelling of angular debris. ever since seeing the "streams of stones" at the falkland islands ( / . "geological observations on south america" ( ), page et seq.), i have felt uneasy in my mind on this subject. i wish mr. kerr's notion could be fully elucidated about frozen snow. some one ought to observe the movements of the fields of snow which supply the glaciers in switzerland. yours is a grand book, and i thank you heartily for the instruction and pleasure which it has given me. for heaven's sake forgive the untidiness of this whole note. letter . to john lubbock [lord avebury]. down, november th, . if i had written your address ( / . address delivered by lord avebury as president of the british association at york in . dr. hicks is mentioned as having classed the pre-cambrian strata in "four great groups of immense thickness and implying a great lapse of time" and giving no evidence of life. hicks' third formation was named by him the arvonian ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxvii., , proc., page .) (but this requires a fearful stretch of imagination on my part) i should not alter what i had said about hicks. you have the support of the president [of the] geological society ( / . robert etheridge.), and i think that hicks is more likely to be right than x. the latter seems to me to belong to the class of objectors general. if hicks should be hereafter proved to be wrong about this third formation, it would signify very little to you. i forget whether you go as far as to support ramsay about lakes as large as the italian ones: if so, i would myself modify the passage a little, for these great lakes have always made me tremble for ramsay, yet some of the american geologists support him about the still larger n. american lakes. i have always believed in the main in ramsay's views from the date of publication, and argued the point with lyell, and am convinced that it is a very interesting step in geology, and that you were quite right to allude to it. ( / . "glacial origin of lakes in switzerland, black forest, etc." ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., pages - , ). sir john lubbock (lord avebury) gives a brief statement of ramsay's views concerning the origin of lakes (presidential address, brit. assoc. , page ): "prof. ramsay divides lakes into three classes: ( ) those which are due to irregular accumulations of drift, and which are generally quite shallow; ( ) those which are formed by moraines; and ( ) those which occupy true basins scooped by glaciers out of the solid rocks. to the latter class belong, in his opinion, most of the great swiss and italian lakes...professor ramsay's theory seems, therefore, to account for a large number of interesting facts." sir archibald geikie has given a good summary of ramsay's theory in his "memoir of sir andrew crombie ramsay," page , london, .) letter . to d. mackintosh. down, february th, . i have read professor geikie's essay, and it certainly appears to me that he underrated the importance of floating ice. ( / . "the intercrossing of erratics in glacial deposits," by james geikie, "scottish naturalist," .) memory extending back for half a century is worth a little, but i can remember nothing in shropshire like till or ground moraine, yet i can distinctly remember the appearance of many sand and gravel beds--in some of which i found marine shells. i think it would be well worth your while to insist (but perhaps you have done so) on the absence of till, if absent in the western counties, where you find many erratic boulders. i was pleased to read the last sentence in geikie's essay about the value of your work. ( / . the concluding paragraph reads as follows: "i cannot conclude this paper without expressing my admiration for the long-continued and successful labours of the well-known geologist whose views i have been controverting. although i entered my protest against his iceberg hypothesis, and have freely criticised his theoretical opinions, i most willingly admit that the results of his unwearied devotion to the study of those interesting phenomena with which he is so familiar have laid all his fellow-workers under a debt of gratitude." mr. darwin used to speak with admiration of mackintosh's work, carried on as it was under considerable difficulties.) with respect to the main purport of your note, i hardly know what to say. though no evidence worth anything has as yet, in my opinion, been advanced in favour of a living being, being developed from inorganic matter, yet i cannot avoid believing the possibility of this will be proved some day in accordance with the law of continuity. i remember the time, above fifty years ago, when it was said that no substance found in a living plant or animal could be produced without the aid of vital forces. as far as external form is concerned, eozoon shows how difficult it is to distinguish between organised and inorganised bodies. if it is ever found that life can originate on this world, the vital phenomena will come under some general law of nature. whether the existence of a conscious god can be proved from the existence of the so-called laws of nature (i.e., fixed sequence of events) is a perplexing subject, on which i have often thought, but cannot see my way clearly. if you have not read w. graham's "creed of science," ( / . "the creed of science: religious, moral, and social," london, .), it would, i think, interest you, and he supports the view which you are inclined to uphold. .ix.iii. the parallel roads of glen roy, - . ( / . in the bare hilly country of lochaber, in the scotch highlands, the slopes of the mountains overlooking the vale of glen roy are marked by narrow terraces or parallel roads, which sweep round the shoulders of the hills with "undeviating horizontality." these roads are described by sir archibald geikie as having long been "a subject of wonderment and legendary story among the highlanders, and for so many years a source of sore perplexity among men of science." ( / . "the scenery of scotland," , page .) in glen roy itself there are three distinct shelves or terraces, and the mountain sides of the valley of the spean and other glens bear traces of these horizontal "roads." the first important papers dealing with the origin of this striking physical feature were those of macculloch ( / . "trans. geol. soc." volume iv., page , .) and sir thomas lauder dick ( / . "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume ix., page , .), in which the writers concluded that the roads were the shore-lines of lakes which once filled the lochaber valleys. towards the end of june mr. darwin devoted "eight good days" ( / . "life and letters," i., page .) to the examination of the lochaber district, and in the following year he communicated a paper to the royal society of london, in which he attributed their origin to the action of the sea, and regarded them as old sea beaches which had been raised to their present level by a gradual elevation of the lochaber district. in louis agassiz and buckland ( / . "edinb. new phil. journal," volume xxxiii., page , .) proposed the glacier-ice theory; they described the valleys as having been filled with lakes dammed back by glaciers which formed bars across the valleys of glen roy, glen spean, and the other glens in which the hill-sides bear traces of old lake-margins. agassiz wrote in : "when i visited the parallel roads of glen roy with dr. buckland we were convinced that the glacial theory alone satisfied all the exigencies of the phenomenon." ( / . ibid., page .) mr. david milne (afterwards milne-home) ( / . "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume xvi., page , .) in upheld the view that the ledges represent the shore-lines of lakes which were imprisoned in the valleys by dams of detrital material left in the glens during a submergence of , feet, at the close of the glacial period. chambers, in his "ancient sea margins" ( ), expressed himself in agreement with mr. darwin's marine theory. the agassiz-buckland theory was supported by mr. jamieson ( / . "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xix., page , .), who brought forward additional evidence in favour of the glacial barriers. sir charles lyell at first ( / . "elements of geology," edition ii., .) accepted the explanation given by mr. darwin, but afterwards ( / . "antiquity of man," , pages et seq.) came to the conclusion that the terrace-lines represent the beaches of glacial lakes. in a paper published in ( / . "phil. trans. r. soc." , page .), prof. prestwich stated his acceptance of the lake theory of macculloch and sir t. lauder dick and of the glacial theory of agassiz, but differed from these authors in respect of the age of the lakes and the manner of formation of the roads. the view that has now gained general acceptance is that the parallel roads of glen roy represent the shores of a lake "that came into being with the growth of the glaciers and vanished as these melted away." ( / . sir archibald geikie, loc. cit., page .) mr. darwin became a convert to the glacier theory after the publication of mr. jamieson's paper. he speaks of his own paper as "a great failure"; he argued in favour of sea action as the cause of the terraces "because no other explanation was possible under our then state of knowledge." convinced of his mistake, darwin looked upon his error as "a good lesson never to trust in science to the principle of exclusion." ( / . "life and letters," i., page .) letter . to c. lyell. [march th, .] i have just received your note. it is the greatest pleasure to me to write or talk geology with you... i think i have thought over the whole case without prejudice, and remain firmly convinced they [the parallel roads] are marine beaches. my principal reason for doing so is what i have urged in my paper ( / . "observations on the parallel roads of glen roy, and of other parts of lochaber in scotland, with an attempt to prove that they are of marine origin." "phil. trans. r. soc." , page .), the buttress-like accumulations of stratified shingle on sides of valley, especially those just below the lowest shelf in spean valley. nd. i can hardly conceive the extension of the glaciers in front of the valley of kilfinnin, where i found a new road--where the sides of great glen are not very lofty. rd. the flat watersheds which i describe in places where there are no roads, as well as those connected with "roads." these remain unexplained. i might continue to add many other such reasons, all of which, however, i daresay would appear trifling to any one who had not visited the district. with respect to equable elevation, it cannot be a valid objection to any one who thinks of scandinavia or the pampas. with respect to the glacier theory, the greatest objection appears to me the following, though possibly not a sound one. the water has beyond doubt remained very long at the levels of each shelf--this is unequivocally shown by the depth of the notch or beach formed in many places in the hard mica-slate, and the large accumulations or buttresses of well-rounded pebbles at certain spots on the level of old beaches. (the time must have been immense, if formed by lakes without tides.) during the existence of the lakes their drainage must have been at the head of the valleys, and has given the flat appearance of the watersheds. all this is very clear for four of the shelves (viz., upper and lower in glen roy, the -foot one in glen spean, and the one in kilfinnin), and explains the coincidence of "roads" with the watersheds more simply than my view, and as simply as the common lake theory. but how was the glen roy lake drained when the water stood at level of the middle "road"? it must (for there is no other exit whatever) have been drained over the glacier. now this shelf is full as narrow in a vertical line and as deeply worn horizontally into the mountain side and with a large accumulation of shingle (i can give cases) as the other shelves. we must, therefore, on the glacier theory, suppose that the surface of the ice remained at exactly the same level, not being worn down by the running water, or the glacier moved by its own movement during the very long period absolutely necessary for a quiet lake to form such a beach as this shelf presents in its whole course. i do not know whether i have explained myself clearly. i should like to know what you think of this difficulty. i shall much like to talk over the jura case with you. i am tired, so goodbye. letter . to l. horner. down [ ]. ( / . it was agreed at the british association meeting held at southampton in "that application be made to her majesty's government to direct that during the progress of the ordnance trigonometrical surveys in the north of scotland, the so-called parallel roads of glen roy and the adjoining country be accurately surveyed, with the view of determining whether they are truly parallel and horizontal, the intervening distances, and their elevations above the present sea-level" ("british association report," , page xix). the survey was undertaken by the government ordnance survey office under col. sir henry james, who published the results in ("notes on the parallel roads of glen roy"); the map on which the details are given is sheet (one-inch scale).) in following your suggestion in drawing out something about glen roy for the geological committee, i have been completely puzzled how to do it. i have written down what i should say if i had to meet the head of the survey and wished to persuade him to undertake the task; but as i have written it, it is too long, ill expressed, seems as if it came from nobody and was going to nobody, and therefore i send it to you in despair, and beg you to turn the subject in your mind. i feel a conviction if it goes through the geological part of ordnance survey it will be swamped, and as it is a case for mere accurate measurements it might, i think without offence, go to the head of the real surveyors. if agassiz or buckland are on the committee they will sneer at the whole thing and declare the beaches are those of a glacier-lake, than which i am sure i could convince you that there never was a more futile theory. i look forward to southampton ( / . the british association meeting ( ).) with much interest, and hope to hear to-morrow that the lodgings are secured to us. you cannot think how thoroughly i enjoyed our geological talks, and the pleasure of seeing mrs. horner and yourself here. ( / . this letter is published in the privately printed "memoir of leonard horner," ii., page .) [here follows darwin's memorandum.] the parallel roads of glen roy, in scotland, have been the object of repeated examination, but they have never hitherto been levelled with sufficient accuracy. sir t. lauder dick ( / . "on the parallel roads of lochaber" (with map and plates), by sir thomas lauder dick, "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume ix., page , .) procured the assistance of an engineer for this purpose, but owing to the want of a true ground-plan it was impossible to ascertain their exact curvature, which, as far as could be estimated, appeared equal to that of the surface of the sea. considering how very rarely the sea has left narrow and well-defined marks of its action at any considerable height on the land, and more especially considering the remarkable observations by m. bravais ( / . "on the lines of ancient level of the sea in finmark," by m. a. bravais, translated from "voyages de la commission scientifique du nord, etc."; "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume i., page , .) on the ancient sea-beaches of scandinavia, showing the they are not strictly parallel to each other, and that the movement has been greater nearer the mountains than on the coast, it appears highly desirable that the roads of glen roy should be examined with the utmost care during the execution of the ordnance survey of scotland. the best instruments and the most accurate measurements being necessary for this end almost precludes the hope of its being ever undertaken by private individuals; but by the means at the disposal of the ordnance, measurements would be easily made even more accurate than those of m. bravais. it would be desirable to take two lines of the greatest possible length in the district, and at nearly right angles to each other, and to level from the beach at one extremity to that at the other, so that it might be ascertained whether the curvature does exactly correspond with that of the globe, or, if not, what is the direction of the line of greatest elevation. much attention would be requisite in fixing on either the upper or lower edge of the ancient beaches as the standard of measurement, and in rendering this line conspicuous. the heights of the three roads, one above the other and above the level of the sea, ought to be accurately ascertained. mr. darwin observed one short beach-line north of glen roy, and he has indicated, on the authority of sir david brewster, others in the valley of the spey. if these could be accurately connected, by careful measurements of their absolute heights or by levelling, with those of glen roy, it would make a most valuable addition to our knowledge on this subject. although the observations here specified would probably be laborious, yet, considering how rarely such evidence is afforded in any quarter of the world, it cannot be doubted that one of the most important problems in geology--namely, the exact manner in which the crust of the earth rises in mass--would be much elucidated, and a great service done to geological science. letter . r. chambers to d. milne-home. st. andrews, september th, . i have had a letter to-day from mr. charles darwin, beseeching me to obtain for him a copy of your paper on glen roy. ( / . no doubt mr. milne's paper "on the parallel roads of lochaber," "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume xvi., page , . [read march st and april th, .]) i am sure you will have pleasure in sending him one; his address is "down, farnborough, kent." i have again read over your paper carefully, and feel assured that the careful collection and statement of facts which are found in it must redound to your credit with all candid persons. the suspicions, however, which i obtained some time ago as to land-straits and heights of country being connected with sea-margins and their ordinary memorials still possesses me, and i am looking forward to some means of further testing the glen roy mystery. if my suspicion turn out true, i shall at once be regretful on your account, and shall feel it as a great check and admonition to myself not to be too confident about anything in science till it has been proved over and over again. the ground hereabouts is now getting clear of the crops; perhaps when i am in town a few days hence we may be able to make some appointment for an examination of the beaches of the district, my list of which has been greatly enlarged during the last two months. letter . to r. chambers. september th, . i hope you will read the first part of my paper before you go [to glen roy], and attend to the manner in which the lines end in glen collarig. i wish mr. milne had read it more carefully. he misunderstands me in several respects, but [i] suppose it is my own fault, for my paper is most tediously written. mr. milne fights me very pleasantly, and i plead guilty to his rebuke about "demonstration." ( / . see letter , note.) i do not know what you think; but mr. milne will think me as obstinate as a pig when i say that i think any barriers of detritus at the mouth of glen roy, collarig and glaster more utterly impossible than words can express. i abide by all that i have written on that head. conceive such a mass of detritus having been removed, without great projections being left on each side, in the very close proximity to every little delta preserved on the lines of the shelves, even on the shelf , which now crosses with uniform breadth the spot where the barrier stood, with the shelves dying gradually out, etc. to my mind it is monstrous. oddly enough, mr. milne's description of the mouth of loch treig (i do not believe that valley has been well examined in its upper end) leaves hardly a doubt that a glacier descended from it, and, if the roads were formed by a lake of any kind, i believe it must have been an ice-lake. i have given in detail to lyell my several reasons for not thinking ice-lakes probable ( / . mr. darwin gives some arguments against the glacier theory in the letter ( ) to sir charles lyell; but the letter alluded to is no doubt the one written to lyell on "wednesday, th" (letter ), in which the reasons are fully stated.); but to my mind they are incomparably more probable than detritus of rock-barriers. have you ever attended to glacier action? after having seen n. wales, i can no more doubt the former existence of gigantic glaciers than i can the sun in the heaven. i could distinguish in n. wales to a certain extent icebergs from glacier action (lyell has shown that icebergs at the present day score rocks), and i suspect that in lochaber the two actions are united, and that the scored rock on the watersheds, when tideways, were rubbed and bumped by half-stranded icebergs. you will, no doubt, attend to glen glaster. mr. milne, i think, does not mention whether shelf enters it, which i should like to know, and especially he does not state whether rocks worn on their upper faces are found on the whole [feet] vertical course of this glen down to near l. loggan, or whether only in the upper part; nor does he state whether these rocks are scored, or polished, or moutonnees, or whether there are any "perched" boulders there or elsewhere. i suspect it would be difficult to distinguish between a river-bed and tidal channel. mr. milne's description of the pass of mukkul, expanding to a width of several hundred yards feet deep in the shoalest part, and with a worn islet in the middle, sounds to me much more like a tidal channel than a river-bed. there must have been, on the latter view, plenty of fresh water in those days. with respect to the coincidence of the shelves with the now watersheds, mr. milne only gives half of my explanation. please read page of my paper. ( / . "observations on the parallel roads of glen roy, and of other parts of lochaber in scotland, with an attempt to prove that they are of marine origin." "phil. trans. r. soc." , page . [read february th, .]) i allude only to the head of glen roy and kilfinnin as silted up. i did not know mukkul pass; and glen roy was so much covered up that i did not search it well, as i was not able to walk very well. it has been an old conjectural belief of mine that a rising surface becomes stationary, not suddenly, but by the movement becoming very slow. now, this would greatly aid the tidal currents cutting down the passes between the mountains just before, and to the level of, the stationary periods. the currents in the fiords in t. del fuego in a narrow crooked part are often most violent; in other parts they seem to silt up. shall you do any levelling? i believe all the levelling has been [done] in glen roy, nearly parallel to the great glen of scotland. for inequalities of elevation, the valley of the spean, at right angles to the apparent axes of elevation, would be the one to examine. if you go to the head of glen roy, attend to the apparent shelf above the highest one in glen roy, lying on the south side of loch spey, and therefore beyond the watershed of glen roy. it would be a crucial case. i was too unwell on that day to examine it carefully, and i had no levelling instruments. do these fragments coincide in level with glen gluoy shelf? macculloch talks of one in glen turret above the shelf. i could not see it. these would be important discoveries. but i will write no more, and pray your forgiveness for this long, ill-written outpouring. i am very glad you keep to your subject of the terraces. i have lately observed that you have one great authority (c. prevost), [not] that authority signifies a [farthing?] on your side respecting your heretical and damnable doctrine of the ocean falling. you see i am orthodox to the burning pitch. letter . to d. milne-home. down, [september] th, [ ]. i am much obliged by your note. i returned from london on saturday, and i found then your memoir ( / . "on the parallel roads of lochaber, with remarks on the change of relative levels of sea and land in scotland, and on the detrital deposits in that country," "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume xvi., page , . [read march st and april th, .]), which i had not then received, owing to the porter having been out when i last sent to the geological society. i have read your paper with the greatest interest, and have been much struck with the novelty and importance of many of your facts. i beg to thank you for the courteous manner in which you combat me, and i plead quite guilty to your rebuke about demonstration. ( / . mr. milne quotes a passage from mr. darwin's paper ("phil. trans. r. soc." , page ), in which the latter speaks of the marine origin of the parallel roads of lochaber as appearing to him as having been demonstrated. mr. milne adds: "i regret that mr. darwin should have expressed himself in these very decided and confident terms, especially as his survey was incomplete; for i venture to think that it can be satisfactorily established that the parallel roads of lochaber were formed by fresh-water lakes" (milne, loc. cit., page ).) you have misunderstood my paper on a few points, but i do not doubt that is owing to its being badly and tediously written. you will, i fear, think me very obstinate when i say that i am not in the least convinced about the barriers ( / . mr. milne believed that the lower parts of the valleys were filled with detritus, which constituted barriers and thus dammed up the waters into lakes.): they remain to me as improbable as ever. but the oddest result of your paper on me (and i assure you, as far as i know myself, it is not perversity) is that i am very much staggered in favour of the ice-lake theory of agassiz and buckland ( / . agassiz and buckland believed that the lakes which formed the "roads" were confined by glaciers or moraines. see "the glacial theory and its recent progress," by louis agassiz, "edinb. new phil. journ." volume xxxiii., page , (with map).): until i read your important discovery of the outlet in glen glaster i never thought this theory at all tenable. ( / . mr. milne discovered that the middle shelf of glen roy, which mr. darwin stated was "not on a level with any watershed" (darwin, loc. cit., page ), exactly coincided with a watershed at the head of glen glaster (milne, loc. cit., page ).) now it appears to me that a very good case can be made in its favour. i am not, however, as yet a believer in the ice-lake theory, but i tremble for the result. i have had a good deal of talk with mr. lyell on the subject, and from his advice i am going to send a letter to the "scotsman," in which i give briefly my present impression (though there is not space to argue with you on such points as i think i could argue), and indicate what points strike me as requiring further investigation with respect, chiefly, to the ice-lake theory, so that you will not care about it... p.s.--some facts mentioned in my "geology of s. america," page ( / . the creeks which penetrate the western shores of tierra del fuego are described as "almost invariably much shallower close to the open sea at their mouths than inland...this shoalness of the sea-channels near their entrances probably results from the quantity of sediment formed by the wear and tear of the outer rocks exposed to the full force of the open sea. i have no doubt that many lakes--for instance, in scotland--which are very deep within, and are separated from the sea apparently only by a tract of detritus, were originally sea-channels, with banks of this nature near their mouths, which have since been upheaved" ("geol. obs. s. america," page , footnote.), with regard to the shoaling of the deep fiords of t. del fuego near their mouths, and which i have remarked would tend, with a little elevation, to convert such fiords into lakes with a great mound-like barrier of detritus at their mouths, might, possibly, have been of use to you with regard to the lakes of glen roy. letter . to c. lyell. down, wednesday, th. many thanks for your paper. ( / . "on the ancient glaciers of forfarshire." "proc. geol. soc." volume iii., page , .) i do admire your zeal on a subject on which you are not immediately at work. i will give my opinion as briefly as i can, and i have endeavoured my best to be honest. poor mrs. lyell will have, i foresee, a long letter to read aloud, but i will try to write better than usual. imprimis, it is provoking that mr. milne ( / . "on the parallel roads of lochaber, etc." "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume xvi., page , . [read march st and april th, .]) has read my paper ( / . "observations on the parallel roads of glen roy, etc." "phil. trans. r. soc." , page . [read february th, .].) with little attention, for he makes me say several things which i do not believe--as, that the water sunk suddenly! (page ), that the valley of glen roy, page , and spean was filled up with detritus to level of the lower shelf, against which there is, i conceive, good evidence, etc., but i suppose it is the consequence of my paper being most tediously written. he gives me a just snub for talking of demonstration, and he fights me in a very pleasant manner. now for business. i utterly disbelieve in the barriers ( / . see note, letter .) for his lakes, and think he has left that point exactly where it was in the time of macculloch ( / . "on the parallel roads of glen roy." "geol. trans." volume iv., page , (with several maps and sections).) and dick. ( / . "on the parallel roads of lochaber." "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume ix., page , .) indeed, in showing that there is a passage at glen glaster at the level of the intermediate shelf, he makes the difficulty to my mind greater. ( / . see letter , note.) when i think of the gradual manner in which the two upper terraces die out at glen collarig and at the mouth of glen roy, the smooth rounded form of the hills there, and the lower shelf retaining its usual width where the immense barrier stood, i can deliberately repeat "that more convincing proofs of the non-existence of the imaginary loch roy could scarcely have been invented with full play given to the imagination," etc.: but i do not adhere to this remark with such strength when applied to the glacier-lake theory. oddly, i was never at all staggered by this theory until now, having read mr. milne's argument against it. i now can hardly doubt that a great glacier did emerge from loch treig, and this by the ice itself (not moraine) might have blocked up the three outlets from glen roy. i do not, however, yet believe in the glacier theory, for reasons which i will presently give. there are three chief hostile considerations in mr. milne's paper. first, the glen [shelf?], not coinciding in height with the upper one [outlet?], from observations giving feet, feet, feet, feet: if the latter are correct the terrace must be quite independent, and the case is hostile; but mr. milne shows that there is one in glen roy feet below the upper one, and a second one again (which i observed) beneath this, and then we come to the proper second shelf. hence there is no great improbability in an independent shelf having been found in glen gluoy. this leads me to mr. milne's second class of facts (obvious to every one), namely the non-extension of the three shelves beyond glen roy; but i abide by what i have written on that point, and repeat that if in glen roy, where circumstances have been so favourable for the preservation or formation of the terraces, a terrace could be formed quite plain for three-quarters of a mile with hardly a trace elsewhere, we cannot argue, from the non-existence of shelves, that water did not stand at the same levels in other valleys. feeling absolutely convinced that there was no barrier of detritus at the mouth of glen roy, and pretty well convinced that there was none of ice, the manner in which the terraces die out when entering glen spean, which must have been a tideway, shows on what small circumstances the formation of these shelves depended. with respect to the non-existence of shelves in other parts of scotland, mr. milne shows that many others do exist, and their heights above the sea have not yet been carefully measured, nor have even those of glen roy, which i suspect are all feet too high. moreover, according to bravais ( / . "on the lines of ancient level of the sea in finmark." by a. bravais, member of the scientific commission of the north. "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume i., page , (a translation).), we must not feel sure that either the absolute height or the intermediate heights between the terraces would be at all the same at distant points. in levelling the terraces in lochaber, all, i believe, have been taken in glen roy, nearly n. and s. there should be levels taken at right angles to this line and to the great glen of scotland or chief line of elevation. thirdly, the nature of the outlets from the supposed lakes. this appears to me the best and newest part of the paper. if sir james clark would like to attend to any particular points, direct his attention to this: especially to follow glen glaster from glen roy to l. laggan. mr. milne describes this as an old and great river-course with a fall of feet. he states that the rocks are smooth on upper face and rough on lower, but he does not mention whether this character prevails throughout the whole vertical feet--a most important consideration; nor does he state whether these rocks are polished or scratched, as might have happened even to a considerable depth beneath the water (mem. great icebergs in narrow fiords of t. del fuego ( / . in the "voyage of the 'beagle'" a description is given of the falling of great masses of ice from the icy cliffs of the glaciers with a crash that "reverberates like the broadside of a man-of-war, through the lonely channels" which intersect the coast-line of tierra del fuego. loc. cit., page .)) by the action of icebergs, for that icebergs transported boulders on to terraces, i have no doubt. mr. milne's description of the outlets of his lake sound to me more like tidal channels, nor does he give any arguments how such are to be distinguished from old river-courses. i cannot believe in the body of fresh water which must, on the lake theory, have flowed out of them. at the pass of mukkul he states that the outlet is feet wide and the rocky bottom feet below the level of the shelf, and that the gorge expands to the eastwards into a broad channel of several hundred yards in width, divided in the middle by what has formerly been a rocky islet, against which the waters of this large river had chafed in issuing from the pass. we know the size of the river at the present day which would flow out through this pass, and it seems to me (and in the other given cases) to be as inadequate; the whole seems to me far easier explained by a tideway than by a formerly more humid climate. with respect to the very remarkable coincidence between the shelves and the outlets (rendered more remarkable by mr. milne's discovery of the outlet to the intermediate shelf at glen glaster ( / . see letter , note.)), mr. milne gives only half of my explanation; he alludes to (and disputes) the smoothing and silting-up action, which i still believe in. i state: if we consider what must take place during the gradual rise of a group of islands, we shall have the currents endeavouring to cut down and deepen some shallow parts in the channels as they are successively brought near the surface, but tending from the opposition of tides to choke up others with littoral deposits. during a long interval of rest, from the length of time allowed to the above processes, the tendency would often prove effective, both in forming, by accumulation of matter, isthmuses, and in keeping open channels. hence such isthmuses and channels just kept open would oftener be formed at the level which the waters held at the interval of rest, than at any other (page ). i look at the pass of mukkul ( feet deep, milne) as a channel just kept open, and the head of glen roy (where there is a great bay silted up) and of kilfinnin (at both which places there are level-topped mounds of detritus above the level of the terraces) as instances of channels filled up at the stationary levels. i have long thought it a probable conjecture that when a rising surface becomes stationary it becomes so, not at once, but by the movements first becoming very slow; this would greatly favour the cutting down many gaps in the mountains to the level of the stationary periods. glacier theory. if a glacialist admitted that the sea, before the formation of the terraces, covered the country (which would account for land-straits above level of terraces), and that the land gradually emerged, and if he supposed his lakes were banked by ice alone, he would make out, in my opinion, the best case against the marine origin of the terraces. from the scattered boulders and till, you and i must look at it as certain that the sea did cover the whole country, and i abide quite by my arguments from the buttresses, etc., that water of some kind receded slowly from the valleys of lochaber (i presume mr. milne admits this). now, i do not believe in the ice-lake theory, from the following weak but accumulating reasons: because, st, the receding water must have been that of a lake in glen spean, and of the sea in the other valleys of scotland, where i saw similar buttresses at many levels; nd, because the outlets of the supposed lakes as already stated seem, from mr. milne's statements, too much worn and too large; rd, when the lake stood at the three-quarters of a mile shelf the water from it must have flowed over ice itself for a very long time, and kept at the same exact level: certainly this shelf required a long time for its formation; th, i cannot believe a glacier would have blocked up the short, very wide valley of kilfinnin, the great glen of scotland also being very low there; th, the country at some places where mr. milne has described terraces is not mountainous, and the number of ice-lakes appears to me very improbable; th, i do not believe any lake could scoop the rocks so much as they are at the entrance to loch treig or cut them off at the head of upper glen roy; th, the very gradual dying away of the terraces at the mouth of glen roy does not look like a barrier of any kind; th, i should have expected great terminal moraines across the mouth of glen roy, glen collarig, and glaster, at least at the bottom of the valleys. such, i feel pretty sure, do not exist. i fear i must have wearied you with the length of this letter, which i have not had time to arrange properly. i could argue at great length against mr. milne's theory of barriers of detritus, though i could help him in one way--viz., by the soundings which occur at the entrances of the deepest fiords in t. del fuego. i do not think he gives the smallest satisfaction with respect to the successive and comparatively sudden breakage of his many lakes. well, i enjoyed my trip to glen roy very much, but it was time thrown away. i heartily wish you would go there; it should be some one who knows glacier and iceberg action, and sea action well. i wish the queen would command you. i had intended being in london to-morrow, but one of my principal plagues will, i believe, stop me; if i do i will assuredly call on you. i have not yet read mr. milne on elevation ( / . "on a remarkable oscillation of the sea, observed at various places on the coasts of great britain in the first week of july, ." "trans. r. soc. edinb." volume xv., page , .), so will keep his paper for a day or two. p.s.--as you cannot want this letter, i wish you would return it to me, as it will serve as a memorandum for me. possibly i shall write to mr. chambers, though i do not know whether he will care about what i think on the subject. this letter is too long and ill-written for sir j. clark. letter . to lady lyell. [october th, .] i enclose a letter from chambers, which has pleased me very much (which please return), but i cannot feel quite so sure as he does. if the lochaber and tweed roads really turn out exactly on a level, the sea theory is proved. what a magnificent proof of equality of elevation, which does not surprise me much; but i fear i see cause of doubt, for as far as i remember there are numerous terraces, near galashiels, with small intervals of height, so that the coincidence of height might be cooked. chambers does not seem aware of one very striking coincidence, viz., that i made by careful measurement my kilfinnin terrace feet above sea, and now glen gluoy is feet, according to the recent more careful measurements. even agassiz ( / . "on the glacial theory," by louis agassiz, "edinb. new phil. journ." volume xxxiii., page , . the parallel terraces are dealt with by agassiz, pages et seq.) would be puzzled to block up glen gluoy and kilfinnin by the same glacier, and then, moreover, the lake would have two outlets. with respect to the middle terrace of glen roy--seen by chambers in the spean (figured by agassiz, and seen by myself but not noticed, as i thought it might have been a sheep track)--it might yet have been formed on the ice-lake theory by two independent glaciers going across the spean, but it is very improbable that two such immense ones should not have been united into one. chambers, unfortunately, does not seem to have visited the head of the spey, and i have written to propose joining funds and sending some young surveyor there. if my letter is published in the "scotsman," how buckland ( / . professor buckland may be described as joint author, with agassiz, of the glacier theory.), as i have foreseen, will crow over me: he will tell me he always knew that i was wrong, but now i shall have rather ridiculously to say, "but i am all right again." i have been a good deal interested in miller ( / . hugh miller's "first impressions of england and its people," london, .), but i find it not quick reading, and emma has hardly begun it yet. i rather wish the scenic descriptions were shorter, and that there was a little less geologic eloquence. lyell's picture now hangs over my chimneypiece, and uncommonly glad i am to have it, and thank you for it. letter . to c. lyell. down, september th [ ]. i think the enclosed is worth your reading. i am smashed to atoms about glen roy. my paper was one long gigantic blunder from beginning to end. eheu! eheu! ( / . see "life and letters," i., pages , , also pages , .) letter . to c. lyell. down, september nd [ ]. i have read mr. jamieson's last letter, like the former ones, with very great interest. ( / . mr. jamieson visited glen roy in august and in july . his paper "on the parallel roads of glen roy, and their place in the history of the glacial period," was published in the "quarterly journal of the geological society" in , volume xix., page . his latest contribution to this subject was published in the "quarterly journal," volume xlviii., page , .) what a problem you have in hand! it beats manufacturing new species all to bits. it would be a great personal consolation to me if mr. j. can admit the sloping spean terrace to be marine, and would remove one of my greatest difficulties--viz. the vast contrast of welsh and lochaber valleys. but then, as far as i dare trust my observations, the sloping terraces ran far up the roy valley, so as to reach not far below the lower shelf. if the sloping fringes are marine and the shelves lacustrine, all i can say is that nature has laid a shameful trap to catch an unwary wretch. i suppose that i have underrated the power of lakes in producing pebbles; this, i think, ought to be well looked to. i was much struck in wales on carefully comparing the glacial scratches under a lake (formed by a moraine and which must have existed since the glacial epoch) and above water, and i could perceive no difference. i believe i saw many such beds of good pebbles on level of lower shelf, which at the time i could not believe could have been found on shores of lake. the land-straits and little cliffs above them, to which i referred, were quite above the highest shelf; they may be of much more ancient date than the shelves. some terrace-like fringes at head of the spey strike me as very suspicious. mr. j. refers to absence of pebbles at considerable heights: he must remember that every storm, every deer, every hare which runs tends to roll pebbles down hill, and not one ever goes up again. i may mention that i particularly alluded to this on s. ventanao ( / . "geolog. obs. on south america," page . "on the flanks of the mountains, at a height of or feet above the plain, there were a few small patches of conglomerate and breccia, firmly cemented by ferruginous matter to the abrupt and battered face of the quartz--traces being thus exhibited of ancient sea-action.") in n. patagonia, a great isolated rugged quartz-mountain , feet high, and i could find not one pebble except on one very small spot, where a ferruginous spring had firmly cemented a few to the face of mountain. if the lochaber lakes had been formed by an ice-period posterior to the (marine?) sloping terraces in the spean, would not mr. j. have noticed gigantic moraines across the valley opposite the opening of lake treig? i go so far as not to like making the elevation of the land in wales and scotland considerably different with respect to the ice-period, and still more do i dislike it with respect to e. and w. scotland. but i may be prejudiced by having been so long accustomed to the plains of patagonia. but the equality of level (barring denudation) of even the secondary formations in britain, after so many ups and downs, always impresses my mind, that, except when the crust-cracks and mountains are formed, movements of elevation and subsidence are generally very equable. but it is folly my scribbling thus. you have a grand problem, and heaven help you and mr. jamieson through it. it is out of my line nowadays, and above and beyond me. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. it is, i believe, true that glen roy shelves (i remember your indian letter) were formed by glacial lakes. i persuaded mr. jamieson, an excellent observer, to go and observe them; and this is his result. there are some great difficulties to be explained, but i presume this will ultimately be proved the truth... letter . to c. lyell. down, october st [ ]. thank you for the most interesting correspondence. what a wonderful case that of bedford. ( / . no doubt this refers to the discovery of flint implements in the valley of the ouse, near bedford, in (see lyell's "antiquity of man," pages et seq., .) i thought the problem sufficiently perplexing before, but now it beats anything i ever heard of. far from being able to give any hypothesis for any part, i cannot get the facts into my mind. what a capital observer and reasoner mr. jamieson is. the only way that i can reconcile my memory of lochaber with the state of the welsh valleys is by imagining a great barrier, formed by a terminal moraine, at the mouth of the spean, which the river had to cut slowly through, as it drained the lowest lake after the glacial period. this would, i can suppose, account for the sloping terraces along the spean. i further presume that sharp transverse moraines would not be formed under the waters of the lake, where the glacier came out of l. treig and abutted against the opposite side of the valley. a nice mess i made of glen roy! i have no spare copy of my welsh paper ( / . "notes on the effects produced by the ancient glaciers of caernarvonshire, and on the boulders transported by floating ice," "edinb. new phil. journ." volume xxxiii., page , .); it would do you no good to lend it. i suppose i thought that there must have been floating ice on moel tryfan. i think it cannot be disputed that the last event in n. wales was land-glaciers. i could not decide where the action of land-glaciers ceased and marine glacial action commenced at the mouths of the valleys. what a wonderful case the bedford case. does not the n. american view of warmer or more equable period, after great glacial period, become much more probable in europe? but i am very poorly to-day, and very stupid, and hate everybody and everything. one lives only to make blunders. i am going to write a little book for murray on orchids ( / . "on the various contrivances by which orchids are fertilised by insects," london, .), and to-day i hate them worse than everything. so farewell, in a sweet frame of mind. letter . to c. lyell. down, october th [ ]. i return jamieson's capital letter. i have no comments, except to say that he has removed all my difficulties, and that now and for evermore i give up and abominate glen roy and all its belongings. it certainly is a splendid case, and wonderful monument of the old ice-period. you ought to give a woodcut. how many have blundered over those horrid shelves! that was a capital paper by jamieson in the last "geol. journal." ( / . "on the drift and rolled gravel of the north of scotland," "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xvi., page , .) i was never before fully convinced of the land glacialisation of scotland before, though chambers tried hard to convince me. i must say i differ rather about ramsay's paper; perhaps he pushes it too far. ( / . "on the glacial origin of certain lakes, etc." "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., page . see letter .) it struck me the more from remembering some years ago marvelling what could be the meaning of such a multitude of lakes in friesland and other northern districts. ramsay wrote to me, and i suggested that he ought to compare mountainous tropical regions with northern regions. i could not remember many lakes in any mountainous tropical country. when tyndall talks of every valley in switzerland being formed by glaciers, he seems to forget there are valleys in the tropics; and it is monstrous, in my opinion, the accounting for the glacial period in the alps by greater height of mountains, and their lessened height, if i understand, by glacial erosion. "ne sutor ultra crepidam," i think, applies in this case to him. i am hard at work on "variation under domestication." ( / . published .) p.s.--i am rather overwhelmed with letters at present, and it has just occurred to me that perhaps you will forward my note to mr. jamieson; as it will show that i entirely yield. i do believe every word in my glen roy paper is false. letter . to c. lyell. down, october th [ ]. notwithstanding the orchids, i have been very glad to see jamieson's letter; no doubt, as he says, certainty will soon be reached. with respect to the minor points of glen roy, i cannot feel easy with a mere barrier of ice; there is so much sloping, stratified detritus in the valleys. i remember that you somewhere have stated that a running stream soon cuts deeply into a glacier. i have been hunting up all old references and pamphlets, etc., on shelves in scotland, and will send them off to mr. j., as they possibly may be of use to him if he continues the subject. the eildon hills ought to be specially examined. amongst ms. i came across a very old letter from me to you, in which i say: "if a glacialist admitted that the sea, before the formation of the shelves, covered the country (which would account for the land-straits above the level of the shelves), and if he admitted that the land gradually emerged, and if he supposed that his lakes were banked up by ice alone, he would make out, in my opinion, the best case against the marine origin of the shelves." ( / . see letter .) this seems very much what you and mr. j. have come to. the whole glacial theory is really a magnificent subject. letter . to c. lyell. down, april st [ ]. i am not quite sure that i understand your difficulty, so i must give what seems to me the explanation of the glacial lake theory at some little length. you know that there is a rocky outlet at the level of all the shelves. please look at my map. ( / . the map accompanying mr. darwin's paper in the "phil. trans. r. soc." .) i suppose whole valley of glen spean filled with ice; then water would escape from an outlet at loch spey, and the highest shelf would be first formed. secondly, ice began to retreat, and water will flow for short time over its surface; but as soon as it retreated from behind the hill marked craig dhu, where the outlet on level of second shelf was discovered by milne ( / . see note, letter .), the water would flow from it and the second shelf would be formed. this supposes that a vast barrier of ice still remains under ben nevis, along all the lower part of the spean. lastly, i suppose the ice disappeared everywhere along l. loggan, l. treig, and glen spean, except close under ben nevis, where it still formed a barrier, the water flowing out at level of lowest shelf by the pass of mukkul at head of l. loggan. this seems to me to account for everything. it presupposes that the shelves were formed towards the close of the glacial period. i come up to london to read on thursday a short paper at the linnean society. shall i call on friday morning at . and sit half an hour with you? pray have no scruple to send a line to queen anne street to say "no" if it will take anything out of you. if i do not hear, i will come. letter . to j. prestwich. down, january rd, . you are perfectly right. ( / . prof. prestwich's paper on glen roy was published in the "phil. trans. r. soc." for , page .) as soon as i read mr. jamieson's article on the parallel roads, i gave up the ghost with more sighs and groans than on almost any other occasion in my life. .ix.iv. coral reefs, fossil and recent, - . letter . to c. lyell. shrewsbury, tuesday, th [july, ]. your letter was forwarded me here. i was the more glad to receive it, as i never dreamed of your being able to find time to write, now that you must be so very busy; and i had nothing to tell you about myself, else i should have written. i am pleased to hear how extensive and successful a trip you appear to have made. you must have worked hard, and got your silurian subject well in your head, to have profited by so short an excursion. how i should have enjoyed to have followed you about the coral-limestone. i once was close to wenlock ( / . the wenlock limestone (silurian) contains an abundance of corals. "the rock seems indeed to have been formed in part by massive sheets and bunches of coral" (geikie, "text-book of geology," , page .), something such as you describe, and made a rough drawing, i remember, of the masses of coral. but the degree in which the whole mass was regularly stratified, and the quantity of mud, made me think that the reefs could never have been like those in the pacific, but that they most resembled those on the east coast of africa, which seem (from charts and descriptions) to confine extensive flats and mangrove swamps with mud, or like some imperfect ones about the west india islands, within the reefs of which there are large swamps. all the reefs i have myself seen could be associated only with nearly pure calcareous rocks. i have received a description of a reef lying some way off the coast near belize (terra firma), where a thick bed of mud seems to have invaded and covered a coral reef, leaving but very few islets yet free from it. but i can give you no precise information without my notes (even if then) on these heads... bermuda differs much from any other island i am acquainted with. at first sight of a chart it resembles an atoll; but it differs from this structure essentially in the gently shelving bottom of the sea all round to some distance; in the absence of the defined circular reefs, and, as a consequence, of the defined central pool or lagoon; and lastly, in the height of the land. bermuda seems to be an irregular, circular, flat bank, encrusted with knolls and reefs of coral, with land formed on one side. this land seems once to have been more extensive, as on some parts of the bank farthest removed from the island there are little pinnacles of rock of the same nature as that of the high larger islands. i cannot pretend to form any precise notion how the foundation of so anomalous an island has been produced, but its whole history must be very different from that of the atolls of the indian and pacific oceans--though, as i have said, at first glance of the charts there is a considerable resemblance. letter . to c. lyell. [ .] considering the probability of subsidence in the middle of the great oceans being very slow; considering in how many spaces, both large ones and small ones (within areas favourable to the growth of corals), reefs are absent, which shows that their presence is determined by peculiar conditions; considering the possible chance of subsidence being more rapid than the upward growth of the reefs; considering that reefs not very rarely perish (as i cannot doubt) on part, or round the whole, of some encircled islands and atolls: considering these things, i admit as very improbable that the polypifers should continue living on and above the same reef during a subsidence of very many thousand feet; and therefore that they should form masses of enormous thickness, say at most above , feet. ( / . "...as we know that some inorganic causes are highly injurious to the growth of coral, it cannot be expected that during the round of change to which earth, air, and water are exposed, the reef-building polypifers should keep alive for perpetuity in any one place; and still less can this be expected during the progressive subsidences...to which by our theory these reefs and islands have been subjected, and are liable" ("the structure and distribution of coral reefs," page : london, ).) this admission, i believe, is in no way fatal to the theory, though it is so to certain few passages in my book. in the areas where the large groups of atolls stand, and where likewise a few scattered atolls stand between such groups, i always imagined that there must have been great tracts of land, and that on such large tracts there must have been mountains of immense altitudes. but not, it appears to me, that one is only justified in supposing that groups of islands stood there. there are (as i believe) many considerable islands and groups of islands (galapagos islands, great britain, falkland islands, marianas, and, i believe, viti groups), and likewise the majority of single scattered islands, all of which a subsidence between , and , feet would entirely submerge or would leave only one or two summits above water, and hence they would produce either groups of nothing but atolls, or of atolls with one or two encircled islands. i am far from wishing to say that the islands of the great oceans have not subsided, or may not continue to subside, any number of feet, but if the average duration (from all causes of destruction) of reefs on the same spot is limited, then after this limit has elapsed the reefs would perish, and if the subsidence continued they would be carried down; and if the group consisted only of atolls, only open ocean would be left; if it consisted partly or wholly of encircled islands, these would be left naked and reefless, but should the area again become favourable for growth of reefs, new barrier-reefs might be formed round them. as an illustration of this notion of a certain average duration of reefs on the same spot, compared with the average rate of subsidence, we may take the case of tahiti, an island of , feet high. now here the present barrier-reefs would never be continued upwards into an atoll, although, should the subsidence continue at a period long after the death of the present reefs, new ones might be formed high up round its sides and ultimately over it. the case resolves itself into: what is the ordinary height of groups of islands, of the size of existing groups of atolls (excepting as many of the highest islands as there now ordinarily occur encircling barrier-reefs in the existing groups of atolls)? and likewise what is the height of the single scattered islands standing between such groups of islands? subsidence sufficient to bury all these islands (with the exception of as many of the highest as there are encircled islands in the present groups of atolls) my theory absolutely requires, but no more. to say what amount of subsidence would be required for this end, one ought to know the height of all existing islands, both single ones and those in groups, on the face of the globe--and, indeed, of half a dozen worlds like ours. the reefs may be of much greater [thickness] than that just sufficient on an average to bury groups of islands; and the probability of the thickness being greater seems to resolve itself into the average rate of subsidence allowing upward growth, and average duration of reefs on the same spot. who will say what this rate and what this duration is? but till both are known, we cannot, i think, tell whether we ought to look for upraised coral formations (putting on one side denudation) above the unknown limit, say between , and , feet, necessary to submerge groups of common islands. how wretchedly involved do these speculations become. letter . to e. von mojsisovics. down, january th, . i thank you cordially for the continuation of your fine work on the tyrolese dolomites ( / . "dolomitriffe sudtirols und venetiens": wien, .), with its striking engravings and the maps, which are quite wonderful from the amount of labour which they exhibit, and its extreme difficulty. i well remember more than forty years ago examining a section of silurian limestone containing many corals, and thinking to myself that it would be for ever impossible to discover whether the ancient corals had formed atolls or barrier reefs; so you may well believe that your work will interest me greatly as soon as i can find time to read it. i am much obliged for your photograph, and from its appearance rejoice to see that much more good work may be expected from you. i enclose my own photograph, in case you should like to possess a copy. letter . to a. agassiz. ( / . part of this letter is published in "life and letters," iii., pages , .) down, may th, . it was very good of you to write to me from tortugas, as i always feel much interested in hearing what you are about, and in reading your many discoveries. it is a surprising fact that the peninsula of florida should have remained at the same level for the immense period requisite for the accumulation of so vast a pile of debris. ( / . alexander agassiz published a paper on "the tortugas and florida reefs" in the "mem. amer. acad. arts and sci." xi., page , . see also his "three cruises of the 'blake,'" volume i., .) you will have seen mr. murray's views on the formation of atolls and barrier reefs. ( / . "on the structure and origin of coral reefs and islands," "proc. r. soc. edin." volume x., page , . prof. bonney has given a summary of sir john murray's views in appendix ii. of the third edition of darwin's "coral reefs," .) before publishing my book, i thought long over the same view, but only as far as ordinary marine organisms are concerned, for at that time little was known of the multitude of minute oceanic organisms. i rejected this view, as from the few dredgings made in the 'beagle' in the s. temperate regions, i concluded that shells, the smaller corals, etc., etc., decayed and were dissolved when not protected by the deposition of sediment; and sediment could not accumulate in the open ocean. certainly shells, etc., were in several cases completely rotten, and crumbled into mud between my fingers; but you will know well whether this is in any degree common. i have expressly said that a bank at the proper depth would give rise to an atoll, which could not be distinguished from one formed during subsidence. i can, however, hardly believe, in the former presence of as many banks (there having been no subsidence) as there are atolls in the great oceans, within a reasonable depth, on which minute oceanic organisms could have accumulated to the thickness of many hundred feet. i think that it has been shown that the oscillations from great waves extend down to a considerable depth, and if so the oscillating water would tend to lift up (according to an old doctrine propounded by playfair) minute particles lying at the bottom, and allow them to be slowly drifted away from the submarine bank by the slightest current. lastly, i cannot understand mr. murray, who admits that small calcareous organisms are dissolved by the carbonic acid in the water at great depths, and that coral reefs, etc., etc., are likewise dissolved near the surface, but that this does not occur at intermediate depths, where he believes that the minute oceanic calcareous organisms accumulate until the bank reaches within the reef-building depth. but i suppose that i must have misunderstood him. pray forgive me for troubling you at such a length, but it has occurred to me that you might be disposed to give, after your wide experience, your judgment. if i am wrong, the sooner i am knocked on the head and annihilated so much the better. it still seems to me a marvellous thing that there should not have been much and long-continued subsidence in the beds of the great oceans. i wish that some doubly rich millionaire would take it into his head to have borings made in some of the pacific and indian atolls, and bring home cores for slicing from a depth of or feet. ( / . in a committee of the british association was formed for the investigation of an atoll by means of boring. the royal society took up the scheme, and an expedition was sent to funafuti, with prof. sollas as leader. another expedition left sydney in under the direction of prof. edgeworth david, and a deeper boring was made. the reports will be published in the "philosophical transactions," and will contain prof. david's notes upon the boring and the island generally, dr. hinde's description of the microscopic structure of the cores and other examinations of them, carried on at the royal college of science, south kensington. the boring reached a depth of feet; the cores were found to consist entirely of reef-forming corals in situ and in fragments, with foraminifera and calcareous algae; at the bottom there were no traces of any other kind of rock. it seems, therefore, to us, that unless it can be proved that reef-building corals began their work at depths of at least fathoms--far below that hitherto assigned--the result gives the strongest support to darwin's theory of subsidence; the test which darwin wished to be applied has been fairly tried, and the verdict is entirely in his favour.) .ix.v. cleavage and foliation, - . letter . to d. sharpe. ( / . the following eight letters were written at a time when the subjects of cleavage and foliation were already occupying the minds of several geologists, including sharpe, sorby, rogers, haughton, phillips, and tyndall. the paper by sharpe referred to was published in ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume iii.), and his ideas were amplified in two later papers (ibid., volume v., , and "phil. trans." ). darwin's own views, based on his observations during the "beagle" expedition, had appeared in chapter xiii. of "south america" ( ) and in the "manual of scientific enquiry" ( ), but are perhaps nowhere so clearly expressed as in this correspondence. his most important contribution to the question was in establishing the fact that foliation is often a part of the same process as cleavage, and is in nowise necessarily connected with planes of stratification. herein he was opposed to lyell and the other geologists of the day, but time has made good his position. the postscript to letter is especially interesting. we are indebted to mr. harker, of st. john's college, for this note.) down, august rd [ ?]. i must just send one line to thank you for your note, and to say how heartily glad i am that you stick to the cleavage and foliation question. nothing will ever convince me that it is not a noble subject of investigation, which will lead some day to great views. i think it quite extraordinary how little the subject seems to interest british geologists. you will, i think live to see the importance of your paper recognised. ( / . probably the paper "on slaty cleavage." "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume iii., page , .) i had always thought that studer was one of the few geologists who had taken a correct and enlarged view on the subject. letter . to d. sharpe. down [november ]. i have been much interested with your letter, and am delighted that you have thought my few remarks worth attention. my observations on foliation are more deserving confidence than those on cleavage; for during my first year in clay-slate countries, i was quite unaware of there being any marked difference between cleavage and stratification; i well remember my astonishment at coming to the conclusion that they were totally different actions, and my delight at subsequently reading sedgwick's views ( / . "remarks on the structure of large mineral masses, and especially on the chemical changes produced in the aggregation of stratified rocks during different periods after their deposition." "trans. geol. soc." volume iii., page , . in the section of this paper dealing with cleavage (page ) prof. sedgwick lays stress on the fact that "the cleavage is in no instance parallel to the true beds."); hence at that time i was only just getting out of a mist with respect to cleavage-laminae dipping inwards on mountain flanks. i have certainly often observed it--so often that i thought myself justified in propounding it as usual. i might perhaps have been in some degree prejudiced by von buch's remarks, for which in those days i had a somewhat greater deference than i now have. the mount at m. video (page of my book ( / . "geol. obs. s. america." page . the mount is described as consisting of hornblendic slate; "the laminae of the slate on the north and south side near the summit dip inwards.")) is certainly an instance of the cleavage-laminae of a hornblendic schist dipping inwards on both sides, for i examined this hill carefully with compass in hand and notebook. i entirely admit, however, that a conclusion drawn from striking a rough balance in one's mind is worth nothing compared with the evidence drawn from one continuous line of section. i read studer's paper carefully, and drew the conclusion stated from it; but i may very likely be in an error. i only state that i have frequently seen cleavage-laminae dipping inwards on mountain sides; that i cannot give up, but i daresay a general extension of the rule (as might justly be inferred from the manner of my statement) would be quite erroneous. von buch's statement is in his "travels in norway" ( / . "travels through norway and lapland during the years - ": london, .); i have unfortunately lost the reference, and it is a high crime, i confess, even to refer to an opinion without a precise reference. if you never read these travels they might be worth skimming, chiefly as an amusement; and if you like and will send me a line by the general post of monday or tuesday, i will either send it up with hopkins on wednesday, or bring it myself to the geological society. i am very glad you are going to read hopkins ( / . "researches in physical geology," by w. hopkins. "phil. trans. r. soc." , page ; ibid, , page , etc.); his views appear to me eminently worth well comprehending; false views and language appear to me to be almost universally held by geologists on the formation of fissures, dikes and mountain chains. if you would have the patience, i should be glad if you would read in my "volcanic islands" from page , or even pages to --viz., on the lamination of volcanic rocks; i may add that i sent the series of specimens there described to professor forbes of edinburgh, and he thought they bore out my views. there is a short extract from prof. rogers ( / . "on cleavage of slate-strata." "edinburgh new phil. journ." volume xli., page , .) in the last "edinburgh new phil. journal," well worth your attention, on the cleavage of the appalachian chain, and which seems far more uniform in the direction of dip than in any case which i have met with; the rogers doctrine of the ridge being thrown up by great waves i believe is monstrous; but the manner in which the ridges have been thrown over (as if by a lateral force acting on one side on a higher level than on the other) is very curious, and he now states that the cleavage is parallel to the axis-planes of these thrown-over ridges. your case of the limestone beds to my mind is the greatest difficulty on any mechanical doctrine; though i did not expect ever to find actual displacement, as seems to be proved by your shell evidence. i am extremely glad you have taken up this most interesting subject in such a philosophical spirit; i have no doubt you will do much in it; sedgwick let a fine opportunity slip away. i hope you will get out another section like that in your letter; these are the real things wanted. letter . to d. sharpe. down, [january ]. i am very much obliged for the ms., which i return. i do not quite understand from your note whether you have struck out all on this point in your paper: i much hope not; if you have, allow me to urge on you to append a note, briefly stating the facts, and that you omitted them in your paper from the observations not being finished. i am strongly tempted to suspect that the cleavage planes will be proved by you to have slided a little over each other, and to have been planes of incipient tearing, to use forbes' expression in ice; it will in that case be beautifully analogical with my laminated lavas, and these in composition are intimately connected with the metamorphic schists. the beds without cleavage between those with cleavage do not weigh quite so heavily on me as on you. you remember, of course, sedgwick's facts of limestone, and mine of sandstone, breaking in the line of cleavage, transversely to the planes of deposition. if you look at cleavage as i do, as the result of chemical action or crystalline forces, super-induced in certain places by their mechanical state of tension, then it is not surprising that some rocks should yield more or less readily to the crystalline forces. i think i shall write to prof. forbes ( / . prof. d. forbes.) of edinburgh, with whom i corresponded on my laminated volcanic rocks, to call his early attention to your paper. letter . to d. sharpe. down, october th [ ]. i am very much obliged to you for telling me the results of your foliaceous tour, and i am glad you are drawing up an account for the royal society. ( / . "on the arrangement of the foliation and cleavage of the rocks of the north of scotland." "phil. trans. r. soc." , page , with plates xxiii. and xxiv.) i hope you will have a good illustration or map of the waving line of junction of the slate and schist with uniformly directed cleavage and foliation. it strikes me as crucial. i remember longing for an opportunity to observe this point. all that i say is that when slate and the metamorphic schists occur in the same neighbourhood, the cleavage and foliation are uniform: of this i have seen many cases, but i have never observed slate overlying mica-slate. i have, however, observed many cases of glossy clay-slate included within mica-schist and gneiss. all your other observations on the order, etc., seem very interesting. from conversations with lyell, etc., i recommend you to describe in a little detail the nature of the metamorphic schists; especially whether there are quasi-substrata of different varieties of mica-slate or gneiss, etc.; and whether you traced such quasi beds into the cleavage slate. i have not the least doubt of such facts occurring, from what i have seen (and described at m. video) of portions of fine chloritic schists being entangled in the midst of a gneiss district. have you had any opportunity of tracing a bed of marble? this, i think, from reasons given at page of my "s. america," would be very interesting. ( / . "i have never had an opportunity of tracing, for any distance, along the line both of strike and dip, the so-called beds in the metamorphic schists, but i strongly suspect that they would not be found to extend, with the same character, very far in the line either of their dip or strike. hence i am led to believe that most of the so-called beds are of the nature of complex folia, and have not been separately deposited. of course, this view cannot be extended to thick masses included in the metamorphic series, which are of totally different composition from the adjoining schists, and which are far-extended, as is sometimes the case with quartz and marble; these must generally be of the nature of true strata" ("geological observations," page ).) a suspicion has sometimes occurred to me (i remember more especially when tracing the clay-slate at the cape of good hope turning into true gneiss) that possibly all the metamorphic schists necessarily once existed as clay-slate, and that the foliation did not arise or take its direction in the metamorphic schists, but resulted simply from the pre-existing cleavage. the so-called beds in the metamorphic schists, so unlike common cleavage laminae, seems the best, or at least one argument against such a suspicion. yet i think it is a point deserving your notice. have you thought at all over rogers' law, as he reiterates it, of cleavage being parallel to his axes-planes of elevation? if you know beforehand, will you tell me when your paper is read, for the chance of my being able to attend? i very seldom leave home, as i find perfect quietude suits my health best. (plate: charles darwin, cir. . maull & fox, photo. walker & cockerell, ph. sc.) letter . to c. lyell. down, january th, . i received your letter yesterday, but was unable to answer it, as i had to go out at once on business of importance. i am very glad that you are reconsidering the subject of foliation; i have just read over what i have written on the subject, and admire it very much, and abide by it all. ( / . "geological observations on south america," chapter vi., .) you will not readily believe how closely i attended to the subject, and in how many and wide areas i verified my remarks. i see i have put pretty strongly the mechanical view of origin; but i might even then, but was afraid, have put my belief stronger. unfortunately i have not d. sharpe's paper here to look over, but i think his chief points [are] ( ) the foliation forming great symmetrical curves, and ( ) the proof from effects of form of shell ( / . this refers to the distortion of shells in cleaved rocks.) of the mechanical action in cleaved rocks. the great curvature would be, i think, a grand discovery of sharpe's, but i confess there is some want of minuteness in the statement of sharpe which makes me wish to see his facts confirmed. that the foliation and cleavage are parts of curves i am quite prepared, from what i have seen, to believe; but the simplicity and grandeur of sharpe's curves rather stagger me. i feel deeply convinced that when (and i and sharpe have seen several most striking and obvious examples) great neighbouring or alternating regions of true metamorphic schists and clay-slate have their foliations and cleavage parallel, there is no way of escaping the conclusion, that the layers of pure quartz, feldspar, mica, chlorite, etc., etc., are due not to original deposition, but to segregation; and this is i consider the point which i have established. this is very odd, but i suspect that great metamorphic areas are generally derived from the metamorphosis of clay-slate, and not from alternating layers of ordinary sedimentary matter. i think you have exactly put the chief difficulty in its strongest light--viz. what would be the result of pure or nearly pure layers of very different mineralogical composition being metamorphosed? i believe even such might be converted into an ordinary varying mass of metamorphic schists. i am certain of the correctness of my account of patches of chlorite schists enclosed in other schist, and of enormous quartzose veins of segregation being absolutely continuous and contemporaneous with the folia of quartz, and such, i think, might be the result of the folia crossing a true stratum of quartz. i think my description of the wonderful and beautiful laminated volcanic rocks at ascension would be worth your looking at. ( / . "geological observations on s. america," pages , ; also "geological observations on the volcanic islands," chapter iii. (ascension), .) letter . to c. lyell. down, january th [ ]. we were yesterday and the day before house-hunting, so i could not answer your letter. i hope we have succeeded in a house, after infinite trouble, but am not sure, in york place, baker street. i do not doubt that i either read or heard from sharpe about the grampians; otherwise from my own old suspicion i should not have inserted the passage in the manual. the laminated rocks at ascension are described at page . ( / . "volcanic islands," page . "singular laminated beds alternating with and passing into obsidian.") as far as my experience has gone, i should speak only of clay-slate being associated with mica-slate, for when near the metamorphic schists i have found stratification so gone that i should not dare to speak of them as overlying them. with respect to the difficulty of beds of quartz and marble, this has for years startled me, and i have longed (since i have felt its force) to have some opportunity of testing this point, for without you are sure that the beds of quartz dip, as well as strike, parallel to the foliation, the case is only just like true strata of sandstone included in clay-slate and striking parallel to the cleavage of the clay-slate, but of course with different dip (excepting in those rare cases when cleavage and stratification are parallel). having this difficulty before my eyes, i was much struck with macculloch's statement (page of my "s. america") about marble in the metamorphic series not forming true strata. (figure .) your expectation of the metamorphic schists sending veins into neighbouring rocks is quite new to me; but i much doubt whether you have any right to assume fluidity from almost any amount of molecular change. i have seen in fine volcanic sandstone clear evidence of all the calcareous matter travelling at least / feet in distance to concretions on either hand (page of "s. america") ( / . "some of these concretions (flattened spherical concretions composed of hard calcareous sandstone, containing a few shells, occurring in a bed of sandstone) were feet in diameter, and in a horizontal line feet apart, showing that the calcareous matter must have been drawn to the centres of attraction from a distance of four feet and a half on both sides" ("geological observations on s. america," page ).) i have not examined carefully, from not soon enough seeing all the difficulties; but i believe, from what i have seen, that the folia in the metamorphic schists (i do not here refer to the so-called beds) are not of great length, but thin out, and are succeeded by others; and the notion i have of the molecular movements is shown in the indistinct sketch herewith sent [figure ]. the quartz of the strata might here move into the position of the folia without much more movement of molecules than in the formation of concretions. i further suspect in such cases as this, when there is a great original abundance of quartz, that great branching contemporaneous veins of segregation (as sometimes called) of quartz would be formed. i can only thus understand the relation which exists between the distorted foliation (not appearing due to injection) and the presence of such great veins. i believe some gneiss, as the gneiss-granite of humboldt, has been as fluid as granite, but i do not believe that this is usually the case, from the frequent alternations of glossy clay and chlorite slates, which we cannot suppose to have been melted. i am far from wishing to doubt that true sedimentary strata have been converted into metamorphic schists: all i can say is, that in the three or four great regions, where i could ascertain the relations of the metamorphic schists to the neighbouring cleaved rocks, it was impossible (as it appeared to me) to admit that the foliation was due to aqueous deposition. now that you intend agitating the subject, it will soon be cleared up. letter . to c. lyell. , york place, baker street [ ]. i have received your letter from down, and i have been studying my s. american book. i ought to have stated [it] more clearly, but undoubtedly in w. tierra del fuego, where clay-slate passes by alternation into a grand district of mica-schist, and in the chonos islands and la plata, where glossy slates occur within the metamorphic schists, the foliation is parallel to the cleavage--i.e. parallel in strike and dip; but here comes, i am sorry and ashamed to say, a great hiatus in my reasoning. i have assumed that the cleavage in these neighbouring or intercalated beds was (as in more distant parts) distinct from stratification. if you choose to say that here the cleavage was or might be parallel to true bedding, i cannot gainsay it, but can only appeal to apparent similarity to the great areas of uniformity of strike and high angle--all certainly unlike, as far as my experience goes, to true stratification. i have long known how easily i overlook flaws in my own reasoning, and this is a flagrant case. i have been amused to find, for i had quite forgotten, how distinctly i give a suspicion (top of page ) to the idea, before sharpe, of cleavage (not foliation) being due to the laminae forming parts of great curves. ( / . "i suspect that the varying and opposite dips (of the cleavage-planes) may possibly be accounted for by the cleavage-laminae...being parts of large abrupt curves, with their summits cut off and worn down" ("geological observations on s. america," page ). i well remember the fine section at the end of a region where the cleavage (certainly cleavage) had been most uniform in strike and most variable in dip. i made with really great care (and in ms. in detail) observations on a case which i believe is new, and bears on your view of metamorphosis (page , at bottom). (ibid., page .) (figure .) in a clay-slate porphyry region, where certain thin sedimentary layers of tuff had by self-attraction shortened themselves into little curling pieces, and then again into crystals of feldspar of large size, and which consequently were all strictly parallel, the series was perfect and beautiful. apparently also the rounded grains of quartz had in other parts aggregated themselves into crystalline nodules of quartz. [figure .] i have not been able to get sorby yet, but shall not probably have anything to write on it. i am delighted you have taken up the subject, even if i am utterly floored. p.s.--i have a presentiment it will turn out that when clay-slate has been metamorphosed the foliation in the resultant schist has been due generally (if not, as i think, always) to the cleavage, and this to a certain degree will "save my bacon" (please look at my saving clause, page ) ( / . "as in some cases it appears that where a fissile rock has been exposed to partial metamorphic action (for instance, from the irruption of granite) the foliation has supervened on the already existing cleavage-planes; so, perhaps in some instances, the foliation of a rock may have been determined by the original planes of deposition or of oblique current laminae. i have, however, myself never seen such a case, and i must maintain that in most extensive metamorphic areas the foliation is the extreme result of that process, of which cleavage is the first effect" (ibid., page ).), but [with] other rocks than that, stratification has been the ruling agent, the strike, but not the dip, being in such cases parallel to any adjoining clay-slate. if this be so, pre-existing planes of division, we must suppose on my view of the cause, determining the lines of crystallisation and segregation, and not planes of division produced for the first time during the act of crystallisation, as in volcanic rocks. if this should ever be proved, i shall not look back with utter shame at my work. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. i got your letter of the st this morning, and a real good man you have been to write. of all the things i ever heard, mrs. hooker's pedestrian feats beat them. my brother is quite right in his comparison of "as strong as a woman," as a type of strength. your letter, after what you have seen in the himalayas, etc., gives me a wonderful idea of the beauty of the alps. how i wish i was one-half or one-quarter as strong as mrs. hooker: but that is a vain hope. you must have had some very interesting work with glaciers, etc. when will the glacier structure and motion ever be settled! when reading tyndall's paper it seemed to me that movement in the particles must come into play in his own doctrine of pressure; for he expressly states that if there be pressure on all sides, there is no lamination. i suppose i cannot have understood him, for i should have inferred from this that there must have been movement parallel to planes of pressure. ( / . prof. tyndall had published papers "on glaciers," and "on some physical properties of ice" ("proc. r. inst." - ) before the date of this letter. in he wrote a paper entitled "observations on 'the theory of the origin of slaty cleavage,' by h.c. sorby." "phil. mag." xii., , page .) sorby read a paper to the brit. assoc., and he comes to the conclusion that gneiss, etc., may be metamorphosed cleavage or strata; and i think he admits much chemical segregation along the planes of division. ( / . "on the microscopical structure of mica-schist:" "brit. ass. rep." , page . see also letters - .) i quite subscribe to this view, and should have been sorry to have been so utterly wrong, as i should have been if foliation was identical with stratification. i have been nowhere and seen no one, and really have no news of any kind to tell you. i have been working away as usual, floating plants in salt water inter alia, and confound them, they all sink pretty soon, but at very different rates. working hard at pigeons, etc., etc. by the way, i have been astonished at the differences in the skeletons of domestic rabbits. i showed some of the points to waterhouse, and asked him whether he could pretend that they were not as great as between species, and he answered, "they are a great deal more." how very odd that no zoologist should ever have thought it worth while to look to the real structure of varieties... .ix.vi. age of the world, - . letter . to j. croll. down, september th, . i hope that you will allow me to thank you for sending me your papers in the "phil. magazine." ( / . croll published several papers in the "philosophical magazine" between and the date of this letter ( ).) i have never, i think, in my life been so deeply interested by any geological discussion. i now first begin to see what a million means, and i feel quite ashamed of myself at the silly way in which i have spoken of millions of years. i was formerly a great believer in the power of the sea in denudation, and this was perhaps natural, as most of my geological work was done near sea-coasts and on islands. but it is a consolation to me to reflect that as soon as i read mr. whitaker's paper ( / . "on subaerial denudation," and "on cliffs and escarpments of the chalk and lower tertiary beds," "geol. mag." volume iv., page , .) on the escarpments of england, and ramsay ( / . "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., page , . "on the glacial origin of certain lakes in switzerland, the black forest, great britain, sweden, north america, and elsewhere.') and jukes' papers ( / . "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., page , . "on the mode of formation of some river-valleys in the south of ireland."), i gave up in my own mind the case; but i never fully realised the truth until reading your papers just received. how often i have speculated in vain on the origin of the valleys in the chalk platform round this place, but now all is clear. i thank you cordially for having cleared so much mist from before my eyes. letter . to t. mellard reade. down, february th, . i am much obliged for your kind note, and the present of your essay. i have read it with great interest, and the results are certainly most surprising. ( / . presidential address delivered by t. mellard reade before the liverpool geological society ("proc. liverpool geol. soc." volume iii., pt. iii., page , ). see also "examination of a calculation of the age of the earth, based upon the hypothesis of the permanence of oceans and continents." "geol. mag." volume x., page , .) it appears to me almost monstrous that professor tait should say that the duration of the world has not exceeded ten million years. ( / . "lecture on some recent advances in physical science," by p.g. tait, london, .) the argument which seems the most weighty in favour of the belief that no great number of millions of years have elapsed since the world was inhabited by living creatures is the rate at which the temperature of the crust increases, and i wish that i could see this argument answered. letter . to j. croll. down, august th, . i am much obliged for your essay, which i have read with the greatest interest. with respect to the geological part, i have long wished to see the evidence collected on the time required for denudation, and you have done it admirably. ( / . in a paper "on the tidal retardation argument for the age of the earth" ("brit. assoc. report," , page ), croll reverts to the influence of subaerial denudation in altering the form of the earth as an objection to the argument from tidal retardation. he had previously dealt with this subject in "climate and time," chapter xx., london, .) i wish some one would in a like spirit compare the thickness of sedimentary rocks with the quickest estimated rate of deposition by a large river, and other such evidence. your main argument with respect to the sun seems to me very striking. my son george desires me to thank you for his copy, and to say how much he has been interested by it. .ix.vii. geological action of earthworms, - . "my whole soul is absorbed with worms just at present." (from a letter to sir w. thistleton-dyer, november th, .) letter . to t.h. farrer (lord farrer). ( / . the five following letters, written shortly before and after the publication of "the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms," , deal with questions connected with mr. darwin's work on the habits and geological action of earthworms.) down, october th, . what a man you are to do thoroughly whatever you undertake to do! the supply of specimens has been magnificent, and i have worked at them for a day and a half. i find a very few well-rounded grains of brick in the castings from over the gravel walk, and plenty over the hole in the field, and over the roman floor. ( / . see "the formation of vegetable mould," , pages et seq. the roman remains formed part of a villa discovered at abinger, surrey. excavations were carried out, under lord farrer's direction, in a field adjoining the ground in which the roman villa was first found, and extended observations were made by lord farrer, which led mr. darwin to conclude that a large part of the fine vegetable mould covering the floor of the villa had been brought up from below by worms.) you have done me the greatest possible service by making me more cautious than i should otherwise have been--viz., by sending me the rubbish from the road itself; in this rubbish i find very many particles, rounded (i suppose) by having been crushed, angles knocked off, and somewhat rolled about. but not a few of the particles may have passed through the bodies of worms during the years since the road was laid down. i still think that the fragments are ground in the gizzards of worms, which always contain bits of stone; but i must try and get more evidence. i have to-day started a pot with worms in very fine soil, with sharp fragments of hard tiles laid on the surface, and hope to see in the course of time whether any of those become rounded. i do not think that more specimens from abinger would aid me... letter . to g.j. romanes. down, march th. i was quite mistaken about the "gardeners' chronicle;" in my index there are only the few enclosed and quite insignificant references having any relation to the minds of animals. when i returned to my work, i found that i had nearly completed my statement of facts about worms plugging up their burrows with leaves ( / . chapter ii., of "the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms," , contains a discussion on the intelligence shown by worms in the manner of plugging up their burrows with leaves (pages et seq.).), etc., etc., so i waited until i had naturally to draw up a few concluding remarks. i hope that it will not bore you to read the few accompanying pages, and in the middle you will find a few sentences with a sort of definition of, or rather discussion on, intelligence. i am altogether dissatisfied with it. i tried to observe what passed in my own mind when i did the work of a worm. if i come across a professed metaphysician, i will ask him to give me a more technical definition, with a few big words about the abstract, the concrete, the absolute, and the infinite; but seriously, i should be grateful for any suggestions, for it will hardly do to assume that every fool knows what "intelligent" means. ( / . "mr. romanes, who has specially studied the minds of animals, believes that we can safely infer intelligence only when we see an individual profiting by its own experience...now, if worms try to drag objects into their burrows, first in one way and then in another, until they at last succeed, they profit, at least in each particular instance, by experience" ("the formation of vegetable mould," , page ).) you will understand that the ms. is only the first rough copy, and will need much correction. please return it, for i have no other copy--only a few memoranda. when i think how it has bothered me to know what i mean by "intelligent," i am sorry for you in your great work on the minds of animals. i daresay that i shall have to alter wholly the ms. letter . to francis galton. down, march th [ ]. very many thanks for your note. i have been observing the [worm] tracks on my walks for several months, and they occur (or can be seen) only after heavy rain. as i know that worms which are going to die (generally from the parasitic larva of a fly) always come out of their burrows, i have looked out during these months, and have usually found in the morning only from one to three or four along the whole length of my walks. on the other hand, i remember having in former years seen scores or hundreds of dead worms after heavy rain. ( / . "after heavy rain succeeding dry weather, an astonishing number of dead worms may sometimes be seen lying on the ground. mr. galton informs me that on one occasion (march, ), the dead worms averaged one for every two-and-a-half paces in length on a walk in hyde park, four paces in width" (loc. cit., page ).) i cannot possibly believe that worms are drowned in the course of even three or four days' immersion; and i am inclined to conclude that the death of sickly (probably with parasites) worms is thus hastened. i will add a few words to what i have said about these tracks. occasionally worms suffer from epidemics (of what nature i know not) and die by the million on the surface of the ground. your ruby paper answers capitally, but i suspect that it is only for dimming the light, and i know not how to illuminate worms by the same intensity of light, and yet of a colour which permits the actinic rays to pass. i have tried drawing triangles of damp paper through a small cylindrical hole, as you suggested, and i can discover no source of error. ( / . triangles of paper were used in experiments to test the intelligence of worms (loc. cit., page ).) nevertheless, i am becoming more doubtful about the intelligence of worms. the worst job is that they will do their work in a slovenly manner when kept in pots ( / . loc. cit., page .), and i am beyond measure perplexed to judge how far such observations are trustworthy. letter . to e. ray lankester. ( / . mr. lankester had written october th, , to thank mr. darwin for the present of the earthworm book. he asks whether darwin knows of "any experiments on the influence of sea-water on earthworms. i have assumed that it is fatal to them. but there is a littoral species (pontodrilus of perrier) found at marseilles." lankester adds, "it is a great pleasure and source of pride to me to see my drawing of the earthworm's alimentary canal figuring in your pages." down, october th [ ]. i have been much pleased and interested by your note. i never actually tried sea-water, but i was very fond of angling when a boy, and as i could not bear to see the worms wriggling on the hook, i dipped them always first in salt water, and this killed them very quickly. i remember, though not very distinctly, seeing several earthworms dead on the beach close to where a little brook entered, and i assumed that they had been brought down by the brook, killed by the sea-water, and cast on shore. with your skill and great knowledge, i have no doubt that you will make out much new about the anatomy of worms, whenever you take up the subject again. letter . to j.h. gilbert. down, january, th, . i have been much interested by your letter, for which i thank you heartily. there was not the least cause for you to apologise for not having written sooner, for i attributed it to the right cause, i.e. your hands being full of work. your statement about the quantity of nitrogen in the collected castings is most curious, and much exceeds what i should have expected. in lately reading one of your and mr. lawes' great papers in the "philosophical transactions" ( / . the first report on "agricultural, botanical, and chemical results of experiments on the mixed herbage of permanent grassland, conducted for many years in succession on the same land," was published in the "philosophical transactions of the royal society" in , the second paper appeared in the "phil. trans." for , and the third in the "phil. trans." of , volume , page .) (the value and importance of which cannot, in my opinion, be exaggerated) i was struck with the similarity of your soil with that near here; and anything observed here would apply to your land. unfortunately i have never made deep sections in this neighbourhood, so as to see how deep the worms burrow, except in one spot, and here there had been left on the surface of the chalk a little very fine ferruginous sand, probably of tertiary age; into this the worms had burrowed to a depth of and inches. i have never seen here red castings on the surface, but it seems possible (from what i have observed with reddish sand) that much of the red colour of the underlying clay would be discharged in passing through the intestinal canal. worms usually work near the surface, but i have noticed that at certain seasons pale-coloured earth is brought up from beneath the outlying blackish mould on my lawn; but from what depth i cannot say. that some must be brought up from a depth of four or five or six feet is certain, as the worms retire to this depth during very dry and very cold weather. as worms devour greedily raw flesh and dead worms, they could devour dead larvae, eggs, etc., etc., in the soil, and thus they might locally add to the amount of nitrogen in the soil, though not of course if the whole country is considered. i saw in your paper something about the difference in the amount of nitrogen at different depths in the superficial mould, and here worms may have played a part. i wish that the problem had been before me when observing, as possibly i might have thrown some little light on it, which would have pleased me greatly. .ix.viii. miscellaneous, - . ( / . the following four letters refer to questions connected with the origin of coal.) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may [ ]. i am delighted that you are in the field, geologising or palaeontologising. i beg you to read the two rogers' account of the coal-fields of n. america; in my opinion they are eminently instructive and suggestive. ( / . "on the physical structure of the appalachian chain," by w.b. and h.d. rogers. boston, . see also "geology of pennsylvania," by h.d. rogers. volumes. london and philadelphia, .) i can lend you their resume of their own labours, and, indeed, i do not know that their work is yet published in full. l. horner gives a capital balance of difficulties on the coal-theory in his last anniversary address, which, if you have not read, will, i think, interest you. ( / . "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume ii., , page .) in a paper just read an author ( / . "on the remarkable fossil trees lately discovered near st. helen's." by e.w. binney. "phil. mag." volume xxiv., page , . on page the author writes: "the stigmaria or sigillaria, whichever name is to be retained... was a tree that undoubtedly grew in water.") throws out the idea that the sigillaria was an aquatic plant ( / . see "life and letters," i., pages et seq.)--i suppose a cycad-conifer with the habits of the mangrove. from simple geological reasoning i have for some time been led to suspect that the great (and great and difficult it is) problem of the coal would be solved on the theory of the upright plants having been aquatic. but even on such, i presume improbable notion, there are, as it strikes me, immense difficulties, and none greater than the width of the coal-fields. on what kind of coast or land could the plants have lived? it is a grand problem, and i trust you will grapple with it. i shall like much to have some discussion with you. when will you come here again? i am very sorry to infer from your letter that your sister has been ill. letter . to j.d. hooker. [june nd, .] i received your letter the other day, full of curious facts, almost all new to me, on the coal-question. ( / . sir joseph hooker deals with the formation of coal in his classical paper "on the vegetation of the carboniferous period, as compared with that of the present day." "mem. geol. surv. great britain," volume ii., pt. ii., .) i will bring your note to oxford ( / . the british association met at oxford in .), and then we will talk it over. i feel pretty sure that some of your purely geological difficulties are easily solvable, and i can, i think, throw a very little light on the shell difficulty. pray put no stress in your mind about the alternate, neatly divided, strata of sandstone and shale, etc. i feel the same sort of interest in the coal question as a man does watching two good players at play, he knowing little or nothing of the game. i confess your last letter (and this you will think very strange) has almost raised binney's notion (an old, growing hobby-horse of mine) to the dignity of an hypothesis ( / . binney suggested that the coal-plants grew in salt water. (see letters , .) recent investigations have shown that several of the plants of the coal period possessed certain anatomical peculiarities, which indicate xerophytic characteristics, and lend support to the view that some at least of the plants grew in seashore swamps.), though very far yet below the promotion of being properly called a theory. i will bring the remainder of my species-sketch to oxford to go over your remarks. i have lately been getting a good many rich facts. i saw the poor old dean of manchester ( / . dean herbert.) on friday, and he received me very kindly. he looked dreadfully ill, and about an hour afterwards died! i am most sincerely sorry for it. letter . to j.d. hooker. [may th, .] i cannot resist thanking you for your most kind note. pray do not think that i was annoyed by your letter. i perceived that you had been thinking with animation, and accordingly expressed yourself strongly, and so i understood it. forefend me from a man who weighs every expression with scotch prudence. i heartily wish you all success in your noble problem, and i shall be very curious to have some talk with you and hear your ultimatum. ( / . the above paragraph was published in "life and letters," i., page .) i do really think, after binney's pamphlet ( / . "on the origin of coal," "mem. lit. phil. soc." manchester volume viii., page , .), it will be worth your while to array your facts and ideas against an aquatic origin of the coal, though i do not know whether you object to freshwater. i am sure i have read somewhere of the cones of lepidodendron being found round the stump of a tree, or am i confusing something else? how interesting all rooted--better, it seems from what you say, than upright--specimens become. i wish ehrenberg would undertake a microscopical hunt for infusoria in the underclay and shales; it might reveal something. would a comparison of the ashes of terrestrial peat and coal give any clue? ( / . in an article by m. f. rigaud on "la formation de la houille," published in the "revue scientifique," volume ii., page , , the author lays stress on the absence of certain elements in the ash of coals, which ought to be present, on the assumption that the carbon has been derived from plant tissues. if coal consists of altered vegetable debris, we ought to find a certain amount of alkalies and phosphoric acid in its ash. had such substances ever been present, it is difficult to understand how they could all have been removed by the solvent action of water. (rigaud's views are given at greater length in an article on the "structure and formation of coal," "science progress," volume ii., pages and , .)) peat ashes are good manure, and coal ashes, except mechanically, i believe are of little use. does this indicate that the soluble salts have been washed out? i.e., if they are not present. i go up to geological council to-day--so farewell. ( / . in a letter to sir joseph hooker, october th, , mr. darwin, in referring to the origin of coal, wrote: "...i sometimes think it could not have been formed at all. old sir anthony carlisle once said to me gravely that he supposed megatherium and such cattle were just sent down from heaven to see whether the earth would support them, and i suppose the coal was rained down to puzzle mortals. you must work the coal well in india.") letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may nd, . lyell tells me that binney has published in proceedings of manchester society a paper trying to show that coal plants must have grown in very marine marshes. ( / . "on the origin of coal," by e.w. binney, "mem. lit. phil. soc. manchester," volume viii., , page . binney examines the evidence on which dry land has been inferred to exist during the formation of the coal measures, and comes to the conclusion that the land was covered by water, confirming brongniart's opinion that sigillaria was an aquatic plant. he believes the sigillaria "grew in water, on the deposits where it is now discovered, and that it is the plant which in a great measure contributed to the formation of our valuable beds of coal." (loc. cit., page .)) do you remember how savage you were long years ago at my broaching such a conjecture? letter . to l. horner. down [ ?]. i am truly pleased at your approval of my book ( / . "geological observations on south america," london, .): it was very kind of you taking the trouble to tell me so. i long hesitated whether i would publish it or not, and now that i have done so at a good cost of trouble, it is indeed highly satisfactory to think that my labour has not been quite thrown away. i entirely acquiesce in your criticism on my calling the pampean formation "recent" ( / . "we must, therefore, conclude that the pampean formation belongs, in the ordinary geological sense of the word, to the recent period." ("geol. obs." page ).); pleistocene would have been far better. i object, however, altogether on principle (whether i have always followed my principle is another question) to designate any epoch after man. it breaks through all principles of classification to take one mammifer as an epoch. and this is presupposing we know something of the introduction of man: how few years ago all beds earlier than the pleistocene were characterised as being before the monkey epoch. it appears to me that it may often be convenient to speak of an historical or human deposit in the same way as we speak of an elephant bed, but that to apply it to an epoch is unsound. i have expressed myself very ill, and i am not very sure that my notions are very clear on this subject, except that i know that i have often been made wroth (even by lyell) at the confidence with which people speak of the introduction of man, as if they had seen him walk on the stage, and as if, in a geological chronological sense, it was more important than the entry of any other mammifer. you ask me to do a most puzzling thing, to point out what is newest in my volume, and i found myself incapable of doing almost the same for lyell. my mind goes from point to point without deciding: what has interested oneself or given most trouble is, perhaps quite falsely, thought newest. the elevation of the land is perhaps more carefully treated than any other subject, but it cannot, of course, be called new. i have made out a sort of index, which will not take you a couple of minutes to skim over, and then you will perhaps judge what seems newest. the summary at the end of the book would also serve same purpose. i do not know where e. de b. [elie de beaumont] has lately put forth on the recent elevation of the cordillera. he "rapported" favourably on d'orbigny, who in late times fires off a most royal salute; every volcano bursting forth in the andes at the same time with their elevation, the debacle thus caused depositing all the pampean mud and all the patagonian shingle! is not this making geology nice and simple for beginners? we have been very sorry to hear of bunbury's severe illness; i believe the measles are often dangerous to grown-up people. i am very glad that your last account was so much better. i am astonished that you should have had the courage to go right through my book. it is quite obvious that most geologists find it far easier to write than to read a book. chapter i. and ii.--elevation of the land: equability on e. coast as shown by terraces, page ; length on w. coast, page ; height at valparaiso, page ; number of periods of rest at coquimbo, page ; elevation within human period near lima greater than elsewhere observed; the discussion (page ) on non-horizontality of terraces perhaps one of newest features--on formation of terraces rather newish. chapter iii., page .--argument of horizontal elevation of cordillera i believe new. i think the connection (page ) between earthquake [shocks] and insensible rising important. chapter iv.--the strangeness of the (eocene) mammifers, co-existing with recent shells. chapter v.--curious pumiceous infusorial mudstone (page ) of patagonia; climate of old tertiary period, page . the subject which has been most fertile in my mind is the discussion from page to end of chapter on the accumulation of fossiliferous deposits. ( / . the last section of chapter v. treats of "the absence of extensive modern conchiferous deposits in south america; and on the contemporaneousness of the older tertiary deposits at distant points being due to contemporaneous movements of subsidence." darwin expresses the view that "the earth's surface oscillates up and down; and...during the elevatory movements there is but a small chance of durable fossiliferous deposits accumulating" (loc. cit., page ).) chapter vi.--perhaps some facts on metamorphism, but chiefly on the layers in mica-slate, etc., being analogous to cleavage. chapter vii.--the grand up-and-down movements (and vertical silicified trees) in the cordillera: see summary, page and page . origin of the claystone porphyry formation, page . chapter viii., page .--mixture of cretaceous and oolitic forms (page )--great subsidence. i think (page ) there is some novelty in discussion on axes of eruption and injection. (page ) continuous volcanic action in the cordillera. i think the concluding summary (page ) would show what are the most salient features in the book. letter . to c. lyell. shrewsbury [august th, ]. i was delighted to receive your letter, which was forwarded here to me. i am very glad to hear about the new edition of the "principles," ( / . the seventh edition of the "principles of geology" was published in .), and i most heartily hope you may live to bring out half a dozen more editions. there would not have been such books as d'orbigny's s. american geology ( / . "voyage dans l'amerique meridionale execute pendant les annees - ." volumes, paris, - .) published, if there had been seven editions of the "principles" distributed in france. i am rather sorry about the small type; but the first edition, my old true love, which i never deserted for the later editions, was also in small type. i much fear i shall not be able to give any assistance to book iii. ( / . this refers to book iii. of the "principles"--"changes of the organic world now in progress.") i think i formerly gave my few criticisms, but i will read it over again very soon (though i am striving to finish my s. american geology ( / . "geological observations on south america" was published in .)) and see whether i can give you any references. i have been thinking over the subject, and can remember no one book of consequence, as all my materials (which are in an absolute chaos on separate bits of paper) have been picked out of books not directly treating of the subjects you have discussed, and which i hope some day to attempt; thus hooker's "antarctic flora" i have found eminently useful ( / . "botany of the antarctic voyage of h.m.s. 'erebus' and 'terror' in the years - ." i., "flora antarctica." volumes, london, - .), and yet i declare i do not know what precise facts i could refer you to. bronn's "geschichte" ( / . "naturgeschichte der drei reiche." h.e. bronn, stuttgart, - .) which you once borrowed) is the only systematic book i have met with on such subjects; and there are no general views in such parts as i have read, but an immense accumulation of references, very useful to follow up, but not credible in themselves: thus he gives hybrids from ducks and fowls just as readily as between fowls and pheasants! you can have it again if you like. i have no doubt forbes' essay, which is, i suppose, now fairly out, will be very good under geographical head. ( / . "on the connection between the distribution of the existing fauna and flora of the british isles, and the geological changes which have affected their area, especially during the epoch of the northern drift," by e. forbes. "memoirs of geological survey," volume i., page , .) kolreuter's german book is excellent on hybrids, but it will cost you a good deal of time to work out any conclusion from his numerous details. ( / . joseph gottlieb kolreuter's "vorlaufige nachricht von eininigen das geschlecht der pflanzen betreffenden versuchen und beobachtungen." leipzig, .) with respect to variation i have found nothing--but minute details scattered over scores of volumes. but i will look over book iii. again. what a quantity of work you have in hand! i almost wish you could have finished america, and thus have allowed yourself rather more time for the old "principles"; and i am quite surprised that you could possibly have worked your own new matter in within six weeks. your intention of being in southampton will much strengthen mine, and i shall be very glad to hear some of your american geology news. letter . to l. horner. down, sunday [january ]. your most agreeable praise of my book is enough to turn my head; i am really surprised at it, but shall swallow it with very much gusto... ( / . "geological observations in s. america," london, .) e. de beaumont measured the inclination with a sextant and artificial horizon, just as you take the height of the sun for latitude. with respect to my journal, i think the sketches in the second edition ( / . "journal of researches into the natural history and geology of the countries visited during the voyage of h.m.s. 'beagle.'" edition ii. london, .) are pretty accurate; but in the first they are not so, for i foolishly trusted to my memory, and was much annoyed to find how hasty and inaccurate many of my remarks were, when i went over my huge pile of descriptions of each locality. if ever you meet anyone circumstanced as i was, advise him not, on any account, to give any sketches until his materials are fully worked out. what labour you must be undergoing now; i have wondered at your patience in having written to me two such long notes. how glad mrs. horner will be when your address is completed. ( / . anniversary address of the president ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume iii., page xxii, ).) i must say that i am much pleased that you will notice my volume in your address, for former presidents took no notice of my two former volumes. i am exceedingly glad that bunbury is going on well. letter . to c. lyell. down, july rd [ ]. i don't know when i have read a book so interesting ( / . "a second visit to the united states of north america." volumes, london, .); some of your stories are very rich. you ought to be made minister of public education--not but what i should think even that beneath the author of the old "principles." your book must, i should think, do a great deal of good and set people thinking. i quite agree with the "athenaeum" that you have shown how a man of science can bring his powers of observation to social subjects. ( / . "sir charles lyell, besides the feelings of a gentleman, seems to carry with him the best habits of scientific observation into other strata than those of clay, into other 'formations' than those of rock or river-margin." "the athenaeum," june rd, , page .) you have made h. wedgwood, heart and soul, an american; he wishes the states would annex us, and was all day marvelling how anyone who could pay his passage money was so foolish as to remain here. letter . to c. lyell. down, [december, ]. ( / . in this letter darwin criticises dana's statements in his volume on "geology," forming volume x. of the "wilkes exploring expedition," .) ...dana is dreadfully hypothetical in many parts, and often as "d--d cocked sure" as macaulay. he writes however so lucidly that he is very persuasive. i am more struck with his remarks on denudation than you seem to be. i came to exactly the same conclusion in tahiti, that the wonderful valleys there (on the opposite extreme of the scale of wonder [to] the valleys of new south wales) were formed exclusively by fresh water. he underrates the power of sea, no doubt, but read his remarks on valleys in the sandwich group. i came to the conclusion in s. america (page ) that the main effect of fresh water is to deepen valleys, and sea to widen them; i now rather doubt whether in a valley or fiord...the sea would deepen the rock at its head during the elevation of the land. i should like to tour on the w. coast of scotland, and attend to this. i forget how far generally the shores of fiords (not straits) are cliff-formed. it is a most interesting subject. i return once again to coral. i find he does not differ so much in detail with me regarding areas of subsidence; his map is coloured on some quite unintelligible principle, and he deduces subsidence from the vaguest grounds, such as that the n. marianne islands must have subsided because they are small, though long in volcanic action: and that the marquesas subsided because they are penetrated by deep bays, etc., etc. i utterly disbelieve his statements that most of the atolls have been lately raised a foot or two. he does not condescend to notice my explanation for such appearances. he misrepresents me also when he states that i deduce, without restriction, elevation from all fringing reefs, and even from islands without any reefs! if his facts are true, it is very curious that the atolls decrease in size in approaching the vast open ocean s. of the sandwich islands. dana puts me in a passion several times by disputing my conclusions without condescending to allude to my reasons; thus, regarding s. lorenzo elevation, he is pleased to speak of my "characteristic accuracy" ( / . dana's "geology" (wilkes expedition), page .), and then gives difficulties (as if his own) when they are stated by me, and i believe explained by me--whereas he only alludes to a few of the facts. so in australian valleys, he does not allude to my several reasons. but i am forgetting myself and running on about what can only interest myself. he strikes me as a very clever fellow; i wish he was not quite so grand a generaliser. i see little of interest except on volcanic action and denudation, and here and there scattered remarks; some of the later chapters are very bald. letter . to j.d. dana. down, december th, . i have not for some years been so much pleased as i have just been by reading your most able discussion on coral reefs. i thank you most sincerely for the very honourable mention you make of me. ( / . "united states exploring expedition during the years - under the command of charles wilkes, u.s.n." volume x., "geology," by j.d. dana, .) this day i heard that the atlas has arrived, and this completes your munificent present to me. i have not yet come to the chapter on subsidence, and in that i fancy we shall disagree, but in the descriptive part our agreement has been eminently satisfactory to me, and far more than i ever ventured to anticipate. i consider that now the subsidence theory is established. i have read about half through the descriptive part of the "volcanic geology" ( / . part of dana's "geology" is devoted to volcanic action.) (last night i ascended the peaks of tahiti with you, and what i saw in my short excursion was most vividly brought before me by your descriptions), and have been most deeply interested by it. your observations on the sandwich craters strike me as the most important and original of any that i have read for a long time. now that i have read yours, i believe i saw at the galapagos, at a distance, instances of those most curious fissures of eruption. there are many points of resemblance between the galapagos and sandwich islands (even to the shape of the mound-like hills)--viz., in the liquidity of the lavas, absence of scoriae, and tuff-craters. many of your scattered remarks on denudation have particularly interested me; but i see that you attribute less to sea and more to running water than i have been accustomed to do. after your remarks in your last very kind letter i could not help skipping on to the australian valleys ( / . ibid., pages et seq.: "the formation of valleys, etc., in new south wales."), on which your remarks strike me as exceedingly ingenious and novel, but they have not converted me. i cannot conceive how the great lateral bays could have been scooped out, and their sides rendered precipitous by running water. i shall go on and read every word of your excellent volume. if you look over my "geological instructions" you will be amused to see that i urge attention to several points which you have elaborately discussed. ( / . "a manual of scientific enquiry, prepared for the use of her majesty's navy, and adapted for travellers in general." edited by sir john f.w. herschel, bart. london, (section vi., "geology." by charles darwin).) i lately read a paper of yours on chambers' book, and was interested by it. i really believe the facts of the order described by chambers, in s. america, which i have described in my geolog. volume. this leads me to ask you (as i cannot doubt that you will have much geological weight in n. america) to look to a discussion at page in that volume on the importance of subsidence to the formation of deposits, which are to last to a distant age. this view strikes me as of some importance. when i meet a very good-natured man i have that degree of badness of disposition in me that i always endeavour to take advantage of him; therefore i am going to mention some desiderata, which if you can supply i shall be very grateful, but if not no answer will be required. thank you for your "conspectus crust.," but i am sorry to say i am not worthy of it, though i have always thought the crustacea a beautiful subject. ( / . "conspectus crustaceorum in orbis terrarum circumnavigatione, c. wilkes duce, collectorum." cambridge (u.s.a.), .) letter . to c. lyell. [down, march th, .] i am uncommonly much obliged to you for your address, which i had not expected to see so soon, and which i have read with great interest. ( / . anniversary address of the president, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume vi., page , .) i do not know whether you spent much time over it, but it strikes me as extra well arranged and written--done in the most artistic manner, to use an expression which i particularly hate. though i am necessarily pretty well familiar with your ideas from your conversation and books, yet the whole had an original freshness to me. i am glad that you broke through the routine of the president's addresses, but i should be sorry if others did. your criticisms on murchison were to me, and i think would be to many, particularly acceptable. ( / . in a paper "on the geological structure of the alps, etc." ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume v., page , ) murchison expressed his belief that the apparent inversion of certain tertiary strata along the flanks of the alps afforded "a clear demonstration of a sudden operation or catastrophe." it is this view of paroxysmal energy that lyell criticises in the address.) capital, that metaphor of the clock. ( / . "in a word, the movement of the inorganic world is obvious and palpable, and might be likened to the minute-hand of a clock, the progress of which can be seen and heard, whereas the fluctuations of the living creation are nearly invisible, and resemble the motion of the hour-hand of a timepiece" (loc. cit., page xlvi).) i shall next february be much interested by seeing your hour-hand of the organic world going. many thanks for your kindness in taking the trouble to tell me of the anniversary dinner. what a compliment that was which lord mahon paid me! i never had so great a one. he must be as charming a man as his wife is a woman, though i was formerly blind to his merit. bunsen's speech must have been very interesting and very useful, if any orthodox clergyman were present. your metaphor of the pebbles of pre-existing languages reminds me that i heard sir j. herschel at the cape say how he wished some one would treat language as you had geology, and study the existing causes of change, and apply the deduction to old languages. we are all pretty flourishing here, though i have been retrograding a little, and i think i stand excitement and fatigue hardly better than in old days, and this keeps me from coming to london. my cirripedial task is an eternal one; i make no perceptible progress. i am sure that they belong to the hour-hand, and i groan under my task. letter . c. lyell to charles darwin. april rd, . i have seen a good deal of french geologists and palaeontologists lately, and there are many whom i should like to put on the r.s. foreign list, such as d'archiac, prevost, and others. but the man who has made the greatest sacrifices and produced the greatest results, who has, in fact, added a new period to the calendar, is barrande. the importance of his discoveries as they stand before the public fully justify your choice of him; but what is unpublished, and which i have seen, is, if possible, still more surprising. thirty genera of gasteropods ( species) and species of lamellibranchiate bivalves in the silurian! all obtained by quarries opened solely by him for fossils. a man of very moderate fortune spending nearly all his capital on geology, and with success. e. forbes' polarity doctrines are nearly overturned by the unpublished discoveries of barrande. ( / . see note, letter , volume i.) i have called barrande's new period cambrian (see "manual," th edition), and you will see why. i could not name it protozoic, but had barrande called it bohemian, i must have adopted that name. all the french will rejoice if you confer an honour on barrande. dana is well worthy of being a foreign member. should you succeed in making barrande f.r.s., send me word. letter . to j.d. hooker. june th [ ]. ( / . the following, which bears on the subject of medals, forms part of the long letter printed in the "life and letters," ii., page .) i do not quite agree with your estimate of richardson's merits. do, i beg you (whenever you quietly see), talk with lyell on prestwich: if he agrees with hopkins, i am silenced; but as yet i must look at the correlation of the tertiaries as one of the highest and most frightfully difficult tasks a man could set himself, and excellent work, as i believe, p. has done. ( / . prof. prestwich had published numerous papers dealing with tertiary geology before . the contributions referred to are probably those "on the correlation of the lower tertiaries of england with those of france and belgium," "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume x., , page ; and "on the correlation of the middle eocene tertiaries of england, france, and belgium," ibid., xii., , page .) i confess i do not value hopkins' opinion on such a point. i confess i have never thought, as you show ought to be done, on the future. i quite agree, under all circumstances, with the propriety of lindley. how strange no new geologists are coming forward! are there not lots of good young chemists and astronomers or physicists? fitton is the only old geologist left who has done good work, except sedgwick. have you thought of him? he would be a brilliant companion for lindley. only it would never do to give lyell a copley and sedgwick a royal in the same year. it seems wrong that there should be three natural science medals in the same year. lindley, sedgwick, and bunsen sounds well, and lyell next year for the copley. ( / . in a royal medal was awarded to john lindley; lyell received the copley in , and bunsen in .) you will see that i am speculating as a mere idle amateur. letter . to s.p. woodward. down, may th [ ]. i am very much obliged to you for having taken the trouble to answer my query so fully. i can now be at rest, for from what you say and from what little i remember forbes said, my point is unanswerable. the case of terebratula is to the point as far as it goes, and is negative. i have already attempted to get a solution through geographical distribution by dr. hooker's means, and he finds that the same genera which have very variable species in europe have other very variable species elsewhere. this seems the general rule, but with some few exceptions. i see from the several reasons which you assign, that there is no hope of comparing the same genus at two different periods, and seeing whether the tendency to vary is greater at one period in such genus than at another period. the variability of certain genera or groups of species strikes me as a very odd fact. ( / . the late dr. neumayr has dealt, to some extent, with this subject in "die stamme des thierreichs," volume i., wien, .) i shall have no points, as far as i can remember, to suggest for your reconsideration, but only some on which i shall have to beg for a little further information. however, i feel inclined very much to dispute your doctrine of islands being generally ancient in comparison, i presume, with continents. i imagine you think that islands are generally remnants of old continents, a doctrine which i feel strongly disposed to doubt. i believe them generally rising points; you, it seems, think them sinking points. letter . to t.h. huxley. down, april th [ ]. many thanks for your kind and pleasant letter. i have been much interested by "deep-sea soundings,", and will return it by this post, or as soon as i have copied a few sentences. ( / . specimens of the mud dredged by h.m.s. "cyclops" were sent to huxley for examination, who gave a brief account of them in appendix a of capt. dayman's report, , under the title "deep-sea soundings in the north atlantic.") i think you said that some one was investigating the soundings. i earnestly hope that you will ask the some one to carefully observe whether any considerable number of the calcareous organisms are more or less friable, or corroded, or scaling; so that one might form some crude notion whether the deposition is so rapid that the foraminifera are preserved from decay and thus are forming strata at this profound depth. this is a subject which seems to me to have been much neglected in examining soundings. bronn has sent me two copies of his morphologische studien uber die gestaltungsgesetze." (h.g. bronn, "morphologische studien uber die gestaltungsgesetze der naturkorper uberhaupt und der organischen insbesondere": leipzig, .) it looks elementary. if you will write you shall have the copy; if not i will give it to the linnean library. i quite agree with the letter from lyell that your extinguished theologians lying about the cradle of each new science, etc., etc., is splendid. ( / . "darwiniana, collected essays," volume ii., page .) letter . to t.h. huxley. may th [ or later]. i have been in london, which has prevented my writing sooner. i am very sorry to hear that you have been ill: if influenza, i can believe in any degree of prostration of strength; if from over-work, for god's sake do not be rash and foolish. you ask for criticisms; i have none to give, only impressions. i fully agree with your "skimming-of-pot theory," and very well you have put it. with respect [to] contemporaneity i nearly agree with you, and if you will look to the d--d book, rd edition, page you will find nearly similar remarks. ( / . "when the marine forms are spoken of as having changed simultaneously throughout the world, it must not be supposed that this expression relates to the same year, or to the same century, or even that it has a very strict geological sense; for if all the marine animals now living in europe, and all those that lived in europe during the pleistocene period (a very remote period as measured by years, including the whole glacial epoch), were compared with those now existing in south america or in australia, the most skilful naturalist would hardly be able to say whether the present or the pleistocene inhabitants of europe resembled most closely those of the southern hemisphere." "origin," edition vi., page . the passage in edition iii., page , is substantially the same.) but at page of your address, in my opinion you put your ideas too far. ( / . anniversary address to the geological society of london ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xviii., page xl, ). as an illustration of the misleading use of the term "contemporaneous" as employed by geologists, huxley gives the following illustration: "now suppose that, a million or two of years hence, when britain has made another dip beneath the sea and has come up again, some geologist applies this doctrine [i.e., the doctrine of the contemporaneity of the european and of the north american silurians: proof of contemporaneity is considered to be established by the occurrence of per cent. of species in common], in comparing the strata laid bare by the upheaval of the bottom, say, of st. george's channel with what may then remain of the suffolk crag. reasoning in the same way, he will at once decide the suffolk crag and the st. george's channel beds to be contemporaneous; although we happen to know that a vast period...of time...separates the two" (loc. cit., page xlv). this address is republished in the "collected essays," volume viii.; the above passage is at page .) i cannot think that future geologists would rank the suffolk and st. george's strata as contemporaneous, but as successive sub-stages; they rank n. america and british stages as contemporaneous, notwithstanding a percentage of different species (which they, i presume, would account for by geographical difference) owing to the parallel succession of the forms in both countries. for terrestrial productions i grant that great errors may creep in ( / . darwin supposes that terrestrial productions have probably not changed to the same extent as marine organisms. "if the megatherium, mylodon...had been brought to europe from la plata, without any information in regard to their geological position, no one would have suspected that they had co-existed with sea shells all still living" ("origin," edition vi., page ).); but i should require strong evidence before believing that, in countries at all well-known, so-called silurian, devonian, and carboniferous strata could be contemporaneous. you seem to me on the third point, viz., on non-advancement of organisation, to have made a very strong case. i have not knowledge or presumption enough to criticise what you say. i have said what i could at page of "origin." it seems to me that the whole case may be looked at from several points of view. i can add only one miserable little special case of advancement in cirripedes. the suspicion crosses me that if you endeavoured your best you would say more on the other side. do you know well bronn in his last entwickelung (or some such word) on this subject? it seemed to me very well done. ( / . probably "untersuchungen uber die entwickelungsgesetze der organischen welt wahrend der bildungszeit unserer erdoberflache," stuttgart, . translated by w.s. dallas in the "ann. and mag. nat. hist." volume iv., page .) i hope before you publish again you will read him again, to consider the case as if you were a judge in a court of appeal; it is a very important subject. i can say nothing against your side, but i have an "inner consciousness" (a highly philosophical style of arguing!) that something could be said against you; for i cannot help hoping that you are not quite as right as you seem to be. finally, i cannot tell why, but when i finished your address i felt convinced that many would infer that you were dead against change of species, but i clearly saw that you were not. i am not very well, so good-night, and excuse this horrid letter. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, june th [ ]. i have heard from sulivan (who, poor fellow, gives a very bad account of his own health) about the fossils ( / . in a letter to huxley (june th, ) darwin wrote: "admiral sulivan several years ago discovered an astonishingly rich accumulation of fossil bones not far from the straits [of magellan]...during many years it has seemed to me extremely desirable that these should be collected; and here is an excellent opportunity.")... the place is gallegos, on the s. coast of patagonia. sulivan says that in the course of two or three days all the boats in the ship could be filled twice over; but to get good specimens out of the hardish rock two or three weeks would be requisite. it would be a grand haul for palaeontology. i have been thinking over your lecture. ( / . a lecture on "insular floras" given at the british association meeting at nottingham, august th, , published in the "gard. chron." .) will it not be possible to give enlarged drawings of some leading forms of trees? you will, of course, have a large map, and george tells me that he saw at sir h. james', at southampton, a map of the world on a new principle, as seen from within, so that almost / ths of the globe was shown at once on a large scale. would it not be worth while to borrow one of these from sir h. james as a curiosity to hang up? remember you are to come here before nottingham. i have almost finished the last number of h. spencer, and am astonished at its prodigality of original thought. but the reflection constantly recurred to me that each suggestion, to be of real value to science, would require years of work. it is also very unsatisfactory, the impossibility of conjecturing where direct action of external circumstances begins and ends--as he candidly owns in discussing the production of woody tissue in the trunks of trees on the one hand, and on the other in spines and the shells of nuts. i shall like to hear what you think of this number when we meet. letter . to a. gaudry. down, november th, . on my return home after a short absence i found your note of nov. th, and your magnificent work on the fossil animals of attica. ( / . the "geologie de l'attique," volumes to, - , is the only work of gaudry's of this date in mr. darwin's library.) i assure you that i feel very grateful for your generosity, and for the honour which you have thus conferred on me. i know well, from what i have already read of extracts, that i shall find your work a perfect mine of wealth. one long passage which sir c. lyell quotes from you in the th and last edition of the "principles of geology" is one of the most striking which i have ever read on the affiliation of species. ( / . the quotation in lyell's "principles," edition x., volume ii., page , is from m. gaudry's "animaux fossiles de pikermi," , page :-- "in how different a light does the question of the nature of species now present itself to us from that in which it appeared only twenty years ago, before we had studied the fossil remains of greece and the allied forms of other countries. how clearly do these fossil relics point to the idea that species, genera, families, and orders now so distinct have had common ancestors. the more we advance and fill up the gaps, the more we feel persuaded that the remaining voids exist rather in our knowledge than in nature. a few blows of the pickaxe at the foot of the pyrenees, of the himalaya, of mount pentelicus in greece, a few diggings in the sandpits of eppelsheim, or in the mauvaises terres of nebraska, have revealed to us the closest connecting links between forms which seemed before so widely separated. how much closer will these links be drawn when palaeontology shall have escaped from its cradle!") letter . a. sedgwick to charles darwin. ( / . in may, , darwin "went to the bull hotel, cambridge, to see the boys, and for a little rest and enjoyment." ( / . see "life and letters," iii., .) the following letter was received after his return to down.) trinity college, cambridge, may th, . my dear darwin, your very kind letter surprised me. not that i was surprised at the pleasant and very welcome feeling with which it was written. but i could not make out what i had done to deserve the praise of "extraordinary kindness to yourself and family." i would most willingly have done my best to promote the objects of your visit, but you gave me no opportunity of doing so. i was truly grieved to find that my joy at seeing you again was almost too robust for your state of nerves, and that my society, after a little while, became oppressive to you. but i do trust that your cambridge visit has done you no constitutional harm; nay, rather that it has done you some good. i only speak honest truth when i say that i was overflowing with joy when i saw you, and saw you in the midst of a dear family party, and solaced at every turn by the loving care of a dear wife and daughters. how different from my position--that of a very old man, living in cheerless solitude! may god help and cheer you all with the comfort of hopeful hearts--you and your wife, and your sons and daughters! you were talking about my style of writing,--i send you my last specimen, and it will probably continue to be my last. it is the continuation of a former pamphlet of which i have not one spare copy. i do not ask you to read it. it is addressed to the old people in my native dale of dent, on the outskirts of westmorland. while standing at the door of the old vicarage, i can see down the valley the lake mountains--hill bell at the head of windermere, about twenty miles off. on thursday next (d.v.) i am to start for dent, which i have not visited for full two years. two years ago i could walk three or four miles with comfort. now, alas! i can only hobble about on my stick. i remain your true-hearted old friend a. sedgwick. letter . to c. lyell. down, september rd [ ]. many thanks for your very kind and interesting letter. i was glad to hear at southampton from miss heathcote a good account of your health and strength. with respect to the great subject to which you refer in your p.s., i always try to banish it from my mind as insoluble; but if i were circumstanced as you are, no doubt it would recur in the dead of the night with painful force. many persons seem to make themselves quite easy about immortality ( / . see "life and letters," i., page .) and the existence of a personal god, by intuition; and i suppose that i must differ from such persons, for i do not feel any innate conviction on any such points. we returned home about ten days ago from southampton, and i enjoyed my holiday, which did me much good. but already i am much fatigued by microscope and experimental work with insect-eating plants. when at southampton i was greatly interested by looking at the odd gravel deposits near at hand, and speculating about their formation. you once told me something about them, but i forget what; and i think that prestwich has written on the superficial deposits on the south coasts, and i must find out his paper and read it. ( / . prof. prestwich contributed several papers to the geological society on the superficial deposits of the south of england.) from what i have seen of mr. judd's papers i have thought that he would rank amongst the few leading british geologists. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter was written before mr. darwin knew that sir charles lyell was to be buried in westminster abbey, a memorial which thoroughly satisfied him. see "life and letters," iii., .) down, february rd, . i have just heard from miss buckley of lyell's death. i have long felt opposed to the present rage for testimonials; but when i think how lyell revolutionised geology, and aided in the progress of so many other branches of science, i wish that something could be done in his honour. on the other hand it seems to me that a poor testimonial would be worse than none; and testimonials seem to succeed only when a man has been known and loved by many persons, as in the case of falconer and forbes. now, i doubt whether of late years any large number of scientific men did feel much attachment towards lyell; but on this head i am very ill fitted to judge. i should like to hear some time what you think, and if anything is proposed i should particularly wish to join in it. we have both lost as good and as true a friend as ever lived. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . this letter shows the difficulty which the inscription for sir charles lyell's memorial gave his friends. the existing inscription is, "charles lyell...author of 'the principles of geology'...throughout a long and laborious life he sought the means of deciphering the fragmentary records of the earth's history in the patient investigation of the present order of nature, enlarging the boundaries of knowledge, and leaving on scientific thought an enduring influence..." down, june st [ ]. i am sorry for you about the inscription, which has almost burst me. we think there are too many plurals in yours, and when read aloud it hisses like a goose. i think the omission of some words makes it much stronger. "world" ( / . the suggested sentence runs: "he gave to the world the results of his labour, etc.") is much stronger and truer than "public." as lyell wrote various other books and memoirs, i have some little doubt about the "principles of geology." people here do not like your "enduring value": it sounds almost an anticlimax. they do not much like my "last (or endure) as long as science lasts." if one reads a sentence often enough, it always becomes odious. god help you. letter . to oswald heer. down, march th [ ]. i thank you for your very kind and deeply interesting letter of march st, received yesterday, and for the present of your work, which no doubt i shall soon receive from dr. hooker. ( / . "flora fossilis arctica," volume iii., , sent by prof. heer through sir joseph hooker.) the sudden appearance of so many dicotyledons in the upper chalk appears to me a most perplexing phenomenon to all who believe in any form of evolution, especially to those who believe in extremely gradual evolution, to which view i know that you are strongly opposed. ( / . the volume referred to contains a paper on the cretaceous flora of the arctic zone (spitzbergen and greenland), in which several dicotyledonous plants are described. in a letter written by heer to darwin the author speaks of a species of poplar which he describes as the oldest dicotyledon so far recorded.) the presence of even one true angiosperm in the lower chalk makes me inclined to conjecture that plants of this great division must have been largely developed in some isolated area, whence owing to geographical changes, they at last succeeded in escaping, and spread quickly over the world. ( / . no satisfactory evidence has so far been brought forward of the occurrence of fossil angiosperms in pre-cretaceous rocks. the origin of the monocotyledons and dicotyledons remains one of the most difficult and attractive problems of palaeobotany.) ( / . see letters , .) but i fully admit that this case is a great difficulty in the views which i hold. many as have been the wonderful discoveries in geology during the last half-century, i think none have exceeded in interest your results with respect to the plants which formerly existed in the arctic regions. how i wish that similar collections could be made in the southern hemisphere, for instance in kerguelen's land. the death of sir c. lyell is a great loss to science, but i do not think to himself, for it was scarcely possible that he could have retained his mental powers, and he would have suffered dreadfully from their loss. the last time i saw him he was speaking with the most lively interest about his last visit to you, and i was grieved to hear from him a very poor account of your health. i have been working for some time on a special subject, namely insectivorous plants. i do not know whether the subject will interest you, but when my book is published i will have the pleasure of sending you a copy. i am very much obliged for your photograph, and enclose one of myself. letter *. to s.b.j. skertchly. march nd, . it is the greatest possible satisfaction to a man nearly at the close of his career to believe that he has aided or stimulated an able and energetic fellow-worker in the noble cause of science. therefore your letter has deeply gratified me. i am writing this away from home, as my health failed, and i was forced to rest; and this will account for the delay in answering your letter. no doubt on my return home i shall find the memoir which you have kindly sent me. i shall read it with much interest, as i have heard something of your work from prof. geikie, and have read his admirable "ice age." ( / . "the great ice age and its relation to the antiquity of man": london, . by james geikie.) i have noticed the criticisms on your work, but such opposition must be expected by every one who draws fine grand conclusions, and such assuredly are yours as abstracted in your letter. ( / . mr. s.b.j. skertchly recorded "the discovery of palaeolithic flint implements, mammalian bones, and fresh-water shells in brick-earths below the boulder-clay of east anglia," in a letter published in the "geol. mag." volume iii., page , . (see also "the fenland, past and present." s.h. miller and s.b.j. skertchly, london, .) the conclusions of mr. skertchly as to the pre-glacial age of the flint implements were not accepted by some authorities. (see correspondence in "nature," volume xv., , pages , .) we are indebted to mr. marr for calling our attention to mr. skertchly's discovery.) what magnificent progress geology has made within my lifetime! i shall have very great pleasure in sending you any of my books with my autograph, but i really do not know which to send. it will cost you only the trouble of a postcard to tell me which you would like, and it shall soon be sent. forgive this untidy note, as it is rather an effort to write. with all good wishes for your continued success in science and for your happiness... chapter .x.--botany, - . .x.i. miscellaneous.-- .x.ii. melastomaceae.-- .x.iii. correspondence with john scott. .x.i. miscellaneous, - . (plate: sir joseph hooker, . from a photograph by w.j. hawker wimborne. walker & cockerell, ph. sc.) letter . to william jackson hooker. down, march th [ ]. ...when you next write to your son, will you please remember me kindly to him and give him my best thanks for his note? i had the pleasure yesterday of reading a letter from him to mr. lyell of kinnordy, full of the most interesting details and descriptions, and written (if i may be permitted to make such a criticism) in a particularly agreeable style. it leads me anxiously to hope, even more than i did before, that he will publish some separate natural history journal, and not allow (if it can be avoided) his materials to be merged in another work. i am very glad to hear you talk of inducing your son to publish an antarctic flora. i have long felt much curiosity for some discussion on the general character of the flora of tierra del fuego, that part of the globe farthest removed in latitude from us. how interesting will be a strict comparison between the plants of these regions and of scotland and shetland. i am sure i may speak on the part of prof. henslow that all my collection (which gives a fair representation of the alpine flora of tierra del fuego and of southern patagonia) will be joyfully laid at his disposal. letter . to john lindley. down, saturday [april th, ]. i take the liberty, at the suggestion of dr. royle, of forwarding to you a few seeds, which have been found under very singular circumstances. they have been sent to me by mr. w. kemp, of galashiels, a (partially educated) man, of whose acuteness and accuracy of observation, from several communications on geological subjects, i have a very high opinion. he found them in a layer under twenty-five feet thickness of white sand, which seems to have been deposited on the margins of an anciently existing lake. these seeds are not known to the provincial botanists of the district. he states that some of them germinated in eight days after being planted, and are now alive. knowing the interest you took in some raspberry seeds, mentioned, i remember, in one of your works, i hope you will not think me troublesome in asking you to have these seeds carefully planted, and in begging you so far to oblige me as to take the trouble to inform me of the result. dr. daubeny has started for spain, otherwise i would have sent him some. mr. kemp is anxious to publish an account of his discovery himself, so perhaps you will be so kind as to communicate the result to me, and not to any periodical. the chance, though appearing so impossible, of recovering a plant lost to any country if not to the world, appears to me so very interesting, that i hope you will think it worth while to have these seeds planted, and not returned to me. letter . to c. lyell. [september, .] an interesting fact has lately, as it were, passed through my hands. a mr. kemp (almost a working man), who has written on "parallel roads," and has corresponded with me ( / . in a letter to henslow, darwin wrote: "if he [mr. kemp] had not shown himself a most careful and ingenious observer, i should have thought nothing of the case."), sent me in the spring some seeds, with an account of the spot where they were found, namely, in a layer at the bottom of a deep sand pit, near melrose, above the level of the river, and which sand pit he thinks must have been accumulated in a lake, when the whole features of the valleys were different, ages ago; since which whole barriers of rock, it appears, must have been worn down. these seeds germinated freely, and i sent some to the horticultural society, and lindley writes to me that they turn out to be a common rumex and a species of atriplex, which neither he nor henslow (as i have since heard) have ever seen, and certainly not a british plant! does this not look like a vivification of a fossil seed? it is not surprising, i think, that seeds should last ten or twenty thousand [years], as they have lasted two or three [thousand years] in the druidical mounds, and have germinated. when not building, i have been working at my volume on the volcanic islands which we visited; it is almost ready for press...i hope you will read my volume, for, if you don't, i cannot think of anyone else who will! we have at last got our house and place tolerably comfortable, and i am well satisfied with our anchorage for life. what an autumn we have had: completely chilian; here we have had not a drop of rain or a cloudy day for a month. i am positively tired of the fine weather, and long for the sight of mud almost as much as i did when in peru. ( / . the vitality of seeds was a subject in which darwin continued to take an interest. in july, ("life and letters," ii., page ), he wrote to hooker: "a man told me the other day of, as i thought, a splendid instance--and splendid it was, for according to his evidence the seed came up alive out of the lower part of the london clay! i disgusted him by telling him that palms ought to have come up." in the "gardeners' chronicle," , page , appeared a notice (half a column in length) by darwin on the "vitality of seeds." the facts related refer to the "sand-walk" at down; the wood was planted in on a piece of pasture land laid down as grass in . in , on the soil being dug in several places, charlock (brassica sinapistrum) sprang up freely. the subject continued to interest him, and we find a note dated july nd, , in which darwin recorded that forty-six plants of charlock sprang up in that year over a space ( x feet) which had been dug to a considerable depth. in the course of the article in the "gardeners' chronicle," darwin remarks: "the power in seeds of retaining their vitality when buried in damp soil may well be an element in preserving the species, and therefore seeds may be specially endowed with this capacity; whereas the power of retaining vitality in a dry artificial condition must be an indirect, and in one sense accidental, quality in seeds of little or no use to the species." the point of view expressed in the letter to lyell above given is of interest in connection with the research of horace brown and f. escombe ( / . "proc. roy. soc." volume lxii., page .) on the remarkable power possessed by dry seeds of resistance to the temperature of liquid air. the point of the experiment is that life continues at a temperature "below that at which ordinary chemical reactions take place." a still more striking demonstration of the fact has been made by thiselton-dyer and dewar who employed liquid hydrogen as a refrigerant. ( / . read before the british association (dover), , and published in the "comptes rendus," , and in the "proc. r. soc." lxv., page , .) the connection between these facts and the dormancy of buried seeds is only indirect; but inasmuch as the experiment proves the possibility of life surviving a period in which no ordinary chemical change occurs, it is clear that they help one to believe in greatly prolonged dormancy in conditions which tend to check metabolism. for a discussion of the bearing of their results on the life-problem, and for the literature of the subject, reference should be made to the paper by brown and escombe. see also c. de candolle "on latent life in seeds," "brit. assoc. report," , page and f. escombe, "science progress," volume i., n.s., page , .) letter . to j.s. henslow. down, saturday [november th, ]. i sent that weariful atriplex to babington, as i said i would, and he tells me that he has reared a facsimile by sowing the seeds of a. angustifolia in rich soil. he says he knows the a. hastata, and that it is very different. until your last note i had not heard that mr. kemp's seeds had produced two polygonums. he informs me he saw each plant bring up the husk of the individual seed which he planted. i believe myself in his accuracy, but i have written to advise him not to publish, for as he collected only two kinds of seeds--and from them two polygomuns, two species or varieties of atriplex and a rumex have come up, any one would say (as you suggested) that more probably all the seeds were in the soil, than that seeds, which must have been buried for tens of thousands of years, should retain their vitality. if the atriplex had turned out new, the evidence would indeed have been good. i regret this result of poor mr. kemp's seeds, especially as i believed, from his statements and the appearance of the seeds, that they did germinate, and i further have no doubt that their antiquity must be immense. i am sorry also for the trouble you have had. i heard the other day through a circuitous course how you are astonishing all the clodhoppers in your whole part of the county: and [what is] far more wonderful, as it was remarked to me, that you had not, in doing this, aroused the envy of all the good surrounding sleeping parsons. what good you must do to the present and all succeeding generations. ( / . for an account of professor henslow's management of his parish of hitcham see "memoir of the rev. john stevens henslow, m.a." by the rev. leonard jenyns: vo, london, .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. you well know how credulous i am, and therefore you will not be surprised at my believing the raspberry story ( / . this probably refers to lindley's story of the germination of raspberry seeds taken from a barrow years old.): a very similar case is on record in germany--viz., seeds from a barrow; i have hardly zeal to translate it for the "gardeners' chronicle." ( / . "vitality of seeds," "gardeners' chronicle," november th, , page .) i do not go the whole hog--viz., that sixty and two thousand years are all the same, for i should imagine that some slight chemical change was always going on in a seed. is this not so? the discussions have stirred me up to send my very small case of the charlock; but as it required some space to give all details, perhaps lindley will not insert; and if he does, you, you worse than an unbelieving dog, will not, i know, believe. the reason i do not care to try mr. bentham's plan is that i think it would be very troublesome, and it would not, if i did not find seed, convince me myself that none were in the earth, for i have found in my salting experiments that the earth clings to the seeds, and the seeds are very difficult to find. whether washing would do i know not; a gold-washer would succeed, i daresay. letter . to w.j. hooker. testimonial from charles darwin, esq., m.a., f.r.s. and g.s., late naturalist to captain fitz-roy's voyage. down house, farnborough, august th, . i have heard with much interest that your son, dr. hooker, is a candidate for the botanical chair at edinburgh. from my former attendance at that university, i am aware how important a post it is for the advancement of science, and i am therefore the more anxious for your son's success, from my firm belief that no one will fulfil its duties with greater zeal or ability. since his return from the famous antarctic expedition, i have had, as you are aware, much communication with him, with respect to the collections brought home by myself, and on other scientific subjects; and i cannot express too strongly my admiration at the accuracy of his varied knowledge, and at his powers of generalisation. from dr. hooker's disposition, no one, in my opinion, is more fitted to communicate to beginners a strong taste for those pursuits to which he is himself so ardently devoted. for the sake of the advancement of botany in all its branches, your son has my warmest wishes for his success. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, thursday [june th, ]. many thanks for your kindness about the lodgings--it will be of great use to me. ( / . the british association met at oxford in .) please let me know the address if mr. jacobson succeeds, for i think i shall go on the nd and write previously to my lodgings. i have since had a tempting invitation from daubeny to meet henslow, etc., but upon the whole, i believe, lodgings will answer best, for then i shall have a secure solitary retreat to rest in. i am extremely glad i sent the laburnum ( / . this refers to the celebrated form known as cytisus adami, of which a full account is given in "variation of animals and plants," volume i., edition ii., page . it has been supposed to be a seminal hybrid or graft-hybrid between c. laburnum and c. purpureus. it is remarkable for bearing "on the same tree tufts of dingy red, bright yellow, and purple flowers, borne on branches having widely different leaves and manner of growth." in a paper by camuzet in the "annales de la societe d'horticulture de paris, xiii., , page , the author tries to show that cytisus adami is a seminal hybrid between c. alpinus and c. laburnum. fuchs ("sitz. k. akad. wien," bd. ) and beijerinck ("k. akad. amsterdam," ) have spoken on cytisus adami, but throw no light on the origin of the hybrid. see letters to jenner weir in the present volume.): the raceme grew in centre of tree, and had a most minute tuft of leaves, which presented no unusual appearance: there is now on one raceme a terminal bilateral [i.e., half yellow, half purple] flower, and on other raceme a single terminal pure yellow and one adjoining bilateral flower. if you would like them i will send them; otherwise i would keep them to see whether the bilateral flowers will seed, for herbert ( / . dean herbert.) says the yellow ones will. herbert is wrong in thinking there are no somewhat analogous facts: i can tell you some, when we meet. i know not whether botanists consider each petal and stamen an individual; if so, there seems to me no especial difficulty in the case, but if a flower-bud is a unit, are not their flowers very strange? i have seen dillwyn in the "gardeners' chronicle," and was disgusted at it, for i thought my bilateral flowers would have been a novelty for you. ( / . in a letter to hooker, dated june nd, , darwin makes a bold suggestion as to floral symmetry:--) i send you a tuft of the quasi-hybrid laburnum, with two kinds of flowers on same stalk, and with what strikes [me] as very curious (though i know it has been observed before), namely, a flower bilaterally different: one other, i observe, has half its calyx purple. is this not very curious, and opposed to the morphological idea that a flower is a condensed continuous spire of leaves? does it not look as if flowers were normally bilateral; just in the same way as we now know that the radiating star-fish, etc., are bilateral? the case reminds me of those insects with exactly half having secondary male characters and the other half female. ( / . it is interesting to note his change of view in later years. in an undated letter written to mr. spencer, probably in , he says: "with respect to asymmetry in the flowers themselves, i remain contented, from all that i have seen, with adaptation to visits of insects. there is, however, another factor which it is likely enough may have come into play--viz., the protection of the anthers and pollen from the injurious effects of rain. i think so because several flowers inhabiting rainy countries, as a. kerner has lately shown, bend their heads down in rainy weather.") letter . to j.d. hooker. june [ ]. ( / . this is an early example of darwin's interest in the movements of plants. sleeping plants, as is well-known, may acquire a rhythmic movement differing from their natural period, but the precise experiment here described has not, as far as known, been carried out. see pfeffer, "periodische bewegungen," , page .) i thank you much for hedysarum: i do hope it is not very precious, for, as i told you, it is for probably a most foolish purpose. i read somewhere that no plant closes its leaves so promptly in darkness, and i want to cover it up daily for half an hour, and see if i can teach it to close by itself, or more easily than at first in darkness. i am rather puzzled about its transmission, from not knowing how tender it is... letter . to j.d. hooker. down, july th, . i thank you warmly for the very kind manner with which you have taken my request. it will, in truth, be a most important service to me; for it is absolutely necessary that i should discuss single and double creations, as a very crucial point on the general origin of species, and i must confess, with the aid of all sorts of visionary hypotheses, a very hostile one. i am delighted that you will take up possibility of crossing, no botanist has done so, which i have long regretted, and i am glad to see that it was one of a. de candolle's desiderata. by the way, he is curiously contradictory on subject. i am far from expecting that no cases of apparent impossibility will be found; but certainly i expect that ultimately they will disappear; for instance, campanulaceae seems a strong case, but now it is pretty clear that they must be liable to crossing. sweet-peas ( / . in lathyrus odoratus the absence of the proper insect has been supposed to prevent crossing. see "variation under domestication," edition ii., volume ii., page ; but the explanation there given for pisum may probably apply to lathyrus.), bee-orchis, and perhaps hollyhocks are, at present, my greatest difficulties; and i find i cannot experimentise by castrating sweet-peas, without doing fatal injury. formerly i felt most interest on this point as one chief means of eliminating varieties; but i feel interest now in other ways. one general fact [that] makes me believe in my doctrine ( / . the doctrine which has been epitomised as "nature abhors perpetual self-fertilisation," and is generally known as knight's law or the knight-darwin law, is discussed by francis darwin in "nature," . references are there given to the chief passages in the "origin of species," etc., bearing on the question. see letter , volume i.), is that no terrestrial animal in which semen is liquid is hermaphrodite except with mutual copulation; in terrestrial plants in which the semen is dry there are many hermaphrodites. indeed, i do wish i lived at kew, or at least so that i could see you oftener. to return again to subject of crossing: i have been inclined to speculate so far, as to think (my!?) notion (i say my notion, but i think others have put forward nearly or quite similar ideas) perhaps explains the frequent separation of the sexes in trees, which i think i have heard remarked (and in looking over the mono- and dioecious linnean classes in persoon seems true) are very apt to have sexes separated; for [in] a tree having a vast number of flowers on the same individual, or at least the same stock, each flower, if only hermaphrodite on the common plan, would generally get its own pollen or only pollen from another flower on same stock,--whereas if the sexes were separate there would be a better chance of occasional pollen from another distinct stock. i have thought of testing this in your new zealand flora, but i have no standard of comparison, and i found myself bothered by bushes. i should propound that some unknown causes had favoured development of trees and bushes in new zealand, and consequent on this there had been a development of separation of sexes to prevent too much intermarriage. i do not, of course, suppose the prevention of too much intermarriage the only good of separation of sexes. but such wild notions are not worth troubling you with the reading of. letter . to j.d. hooker. moor park [may nd, ]. the most striking case, which i have stumbled on, on apparent, but false relation of structure of plants to climate, seems to be meyer and doege's remark that there is not one single, even moderately-sized, family at the cape of good hope which has not one or several species with heath-like foliage; and when we consider this together with the number of true heaths, any one would have been justified, had it not been for our own british heaths ( / . it is well known that plants with xerophytic characteristics are not confined to dry climates; it is only necessary to mention halophytes, alpine plants and certain epiphytes. the heaths of northern europe are placed among the xerophytes by warming ("lehrbuch der okologischen pflanzengeographie," page , berlin, ).), in saying that heath-like foliage must stand in direct relation to a dry and moderately warm climate. does this not strike you as a good case of false relation? i am so pleased with this place and the people here, that i am greatly tempted to bring etty here, for she has not, on the whole, derived any benefit from hastings. with thanks for your never failing assistance to me... i remember that you were surprised at number of seeds germinating in pond mud. i tried a fourth pond, and took about as much mud (rather more than in former case) as would fill a very large breakfast cup, and before i had left home plants had come up; how many more will be up on my return i know not. this bears on chance of birds by their muddy feet transporting fresh-water plants. this would not be a bad dodge for a collector in country when plants were not in seed, to collect and dry mud from ponds. letter . to asa gray. down [ ]. i am very glad to hear that you think of discussing the relative ranges of the identical and allied u. states and european species, when you have time. now this leads me to make a very audacious remark in opposition to what i imagine hooker has been writing ( / . see letter , volume i.), and to your own scientific conscience. i presume he has been urging you to finish your great "flora" before you do anything else. now i would say it is your duty to generalise as far as you safely can from your as yet completed work. undoubtedly careful discrimination of species is the foundation of all good work; but i must look at such papers as yours in silliman as the fruit. as careful observation is far harder work than generalisation, and still harder than speculation, do you not think it very possible that it may be overvalued? it ought never to be forgotten that the observer can generalise his own observations incomparably better than any one else. how many astronomers have laboured their whole lives on observations, and have not drawn a single conclusion; i think it is herschel who has remarked how much better it would be if they had paused in their devoted work and seen what they could have deduced from their work. so do pray look at this side of the question, and let us have another paper or two like the last admirable ones. there, am i not an audacious dog! you ask about my doctrine which led me to expect that trees would tend to have separate sexes. i am inclined to believe that no organic being exists which perpetually self-fertilises itself. this will appear very wild, but i can venture to say that if you were to read my observations on this subject you would agree it is not so wild as it will at first appear to you, from flowers said to be always fertilised in bud, etc. it is a long subject, which i have attended to for eighteen years. now, it occurred to me that in a large tree with hermaphrodite flowers, we will say it would be ten to one that it would be fertilised by the pollen of its own flower, and a thousand or ten thousand to one that if crossed it would be crossed only with pollen from another flower of same tree, which would be opposed to my doctrine. therefore, on the great principle of "nature not lying," i fully expected that trees would be apt to be dioecious or monoecious (which, as pollen has to be carried from flower to flower every time, would favour a cross from another individual of the same species), and so it seems to be in britain and new zealand. nor can the fact be explained by certain families having this structure and chancing to be trees, for the rule seems to hold both in genera and families, as well as in species. i give you full permission to laugh your fill at this wild speculation; and i do not pretend but what it may be chance which, in this case, has led me apparently right. but i repeat that i feel sure that my doctrine has more probability than at first it appears to have. if you had not asked, i should not have written at such length, though i cannot give any of my reasons. the leguminosae are my greatest opposers: yet if i were to trust to observations on insects made during many years, i should fully expect crosses to take place in them; but i cannot find that our garden varieties ever cross each other. i do not ask you to take any trouble about it, but if you should by chance come across any intelligent nurseryman, i wish you would enquire whether they take any pains in raising the varieties of papilionaceous plants apart to prevent crossing. (i have seen a statement of naturally formed crossed phaseoli near n. york.) the worst is that nurserymen are apt to attribute all varieties to crossing. finally i incline to believe that every living being requires an occasional cross with a distinct individual; and as trees from the mere multitude of flowers offer an obstacle to this, i suspect this obstacle is counteracted by tendency to have sexes separated. but i have forgotten to say that my maximum difficulty is trees having papilionaceous flowers: some of them, i know, have their keel-petals expanded when ready for fertilisation; but bentham does not believe that this is general: nevertheless, on principle of nature not lying, i suspect that this will turn out so, or that they are eminently sought by bees dusted with pollen. again i do not ask you to take trouble, but if strolling under your robinias when in full flower, just look at stamens and pistils whether protruded and whether bees visit them. i must just mention a fact mentioned to me the other day by sir w. macarthur, a clever australian gardener: viz., how odd it was that his erythrinas in n.s. wales would not set a seed, without he imitated the movements of the petals which bees cause. well, as long as you live, you will never, after this fearfully long note, ask me why i believe this or that. letter . to asa gray. june th [ ]. it has been extremely kind of you telling me about the trees: now with your facts, and those from britain, n. zealand, and tasmania i shall have fair materials for judging. i am writing this away from home, but i think your fraction of / is as large as in other cases, and is at least a striking coincidence. i thank you much for your remarks about my crossing notions, to which, i may add, i was led by exactly the same idea as yours, viz., that crossing must be one means of eliminating variation, and then i wished to make out how far in animals and vegetables this was possible. papilionaceous flowers are almost dead floorers to me, and i cannot experimentise, as castration alone often produces sterility. i am surprised at what you say about compositae and gramineae. from what i have seen of latter they seemed to me (and i have watched wheat, owing to what l. de longchamps has said on their fertilisation in bud) favourable for crossing; and from cassini's observations and kolreuter's on the adhesive pollen, and c.c. sprengel's, i had concluded that the compositae were eminently likely (i am aware of the pistil brushing out pollen) to be crossed. ( / . this is an instance of the curious ignorance of the essential principles of floral mechanism which was to be found even among learned and accomplished botanists such as gray, before the publication of the "fertilisation of orchids." even in we find darwin explaining the meaning of dichogamy in a letter to gray.) if in some months' time you can find time to tell me whether you have made any observations on the early fertilisation of plants in these two orders, i should be very glad to hear, as it would save me from great blunder. in several published remarks on this subject in various genera it has seemed to me that the early fertilisation has been inferred from the early shedding of the pollen, which i think is clearly a false inference. another cause, i should think, of the belief of fertilisation in the bud, is the not-rare, abnormal, early maturity of the pistil as described by gartner. i have hitherto failed in meeting with detailed accounts of regular and normal impregnation in the bud. podostemon and subularia under water (and leguminosae) seem and are strongest cases against me, as far as i as yet know. i am so sorry that you are so overwhelmed with work; it makes your very great kindness to me the more striking. it is really pretty to see how effectual insects are. a short time ago i found a female holly sixty measured yards from any other holly, and i cut off some twigs and took by chance twenty stigmas, cut off their tops, and put them under the microscope: there was pollen on every one, and in profusion on most! weather cloudy and stormy and unfavourable, wind in wrong direction to have brought any. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. i want to ask a question which will take you only few words to answer. it bears on my former belief (and asa gray strongly expressed opinion) that papilionaceous flowers were fatal to my notion of there being no eternal hermaphrodites. first let me say how evidence goes. you will remember my facts going to show that kidney-beans require visits of bees to be fertilised. this has been positively stated to be the case with lathyrus grandiflorus, and has been very partially verified by me. sir w. macarthur tells me that erythrina will hardly seed in australia without the petals are moved as if by bee. i have just met the statement that, with common bean, when the humble-bees bite holes at the base of the flower, and therefore cease visiting the mouth of the corolla, "hardly a bean will set." but now comes a much more curious statement, that [in] - , "since bees were established at wellington (new zealand), clover seeds all over the settlement, which it did not before." ( / . see letter , volume i.) the writer evidently has no idea what the connection can be. now i cannot help at once connecting this statement (and all the foregoing statements in some degree support each other, as all have been advanced without any sort of theory) with the remarkable absence of papilionaceous plants in n. zealand. i see in your list clianthus, carmichaelia (four species), a new genus, a shrub, and edwardsia (is latter papilionaceous?). now what i want to know is whether any of these have flowers as small as clover; for if they have large flowers they may be visited by humble-bees, which i think i remember do exist in new zealand; and which humble-bees would not visit the smaller clover. even the very minute little yellow clover in england has every flower visited and revisited by hive-bees, as i know by experience. would it not be a curious case of correlation if it could be shown to be probable that herbaceous and small leguminosae do not exist because when [their] seeds [are] washed ashore (!!!) no small bees exist there. though this latter fact must be ascertained. i may not prove anything, but does it not seem odd that so many quite independent facts, or rather statements, should point all in one direction, viz., that bees are necessary to the fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers? letter . to john lubbock (lord avebury). sunday [ ]. do you remember calling my attention to certain flowers in the truss of pelargoniums not being true, or not having the dark shade on the two upper petals? i believe it was lady lubbock's observation. i find, as i expected, it is always the central or sub-central flower; but what is far more curious, the nectary, which is blended with the peduncle of the flowers, gradually lessens and quite disappears ( / . this fact is mentioned in maxwell masters' "vegetable teratology" (ray society's publications), , page .), as the dark shade on the two upper petals disappears. compare the stalk in the two enclosed parcels, in each of which there is a perfect flower. now, if your gardener will not be outrageous, do look over your geraniums and send me a few trusses, if you can find any, having the flowers without the marks, sending me some perfect flowers on same truss. the case seems to me rather a pretty one of correlation of growth; for the calyx also becomes slightly modified in the flowers without marks. letter . to maxwell masters. down, april th [ ]. i hope that you will excuse the liberty which i take in writing to you and begging a favour. i have been very much interested by the abstract (too brief) of your lecture at the royal institution. many of the facts alluded to are full of interest for me. but on one point i should be infinitely obliged if you could procure me any information: namely, with respect to sweet-peas. i am a great believer in the natural crossing of individuals of the same species. but i have been assured by mr. cattell ( / . the nurseryman he generally dealt with.), of westerham, that the several varieties of sweet-pea can be raised close together for a number of years without intercrossing. but on the other hand he stated that they go over the beds, and pull up any false plant, which they very naturally attribute to wrong seeds getting mixed in the lot. after many failures, i succeeded in artificially crossing two varieties, and the offspring out of the same pod, instead of being intermediate, was very nearly like the two pure parents; yet in one, there was a trace of the cross, and these crossed peas in the next generation showed still more plainly their mongrel origin. now, what i want to know is, whether there is much variation in sweet-peas which might be owing to natural crosses. what i should expect would be that they would keep true for many years, but that occasionally, perhaps at long intervals, there would be a considerable amount of crossing of the varieties grown close together. can you give, or obtain from your father, any information on this head, and allow me to quote your authority? it would really be a very great favour and kindness. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the genera scaevola and leschenaultia, to which the following letter refers, belong to the goodeniaceae (goodenovieae, bentham & hooker), an order allied to the lobeliaceae, although the mechanism of fertilisation resembles rather more nearly that of campanula. the characteristic feature of the flower in this order is the indusium, or, as delpino ( / . delpino's observations on dichogamy, summarised by hildebrand in "bot. zeitung," , page .) calls it, the "collecting cup": this cuplike organ is a development of the style, and serves the same function as the hairs on the style of campanula, namely, that of taking the pollen from the anthers and presenting it to the visiting insect. during this stage the immature stigma is at the bottom of the cup, and though surrounded by pollen is incapable of being pollinated. in most genera of the order the pollen is pushed out of the indusium by the growth of the style or stigma, very much as occurs in lobelia or the compositae. finally the style emerges from the indusium ( / . according to hamilton ("proc. linn. soc. n. s. wales," x., , page ) the stigma rarely grows beyond the indusium in dampiera. in the same journal ( - , page , and ix., , page ) hamilton has given a number of interesting observations on goodenia, scaevola, selliera, brunonia. there seem to be mechanisms for cross- and also for self-fertilisation.), the stigmas open out and are pollinated from younger flowers. the mechanism of fertilisation has been described by f. muller ( / . in a letter to hildebrand published in the "bot. zeitung," , page .), and more completely by delpino (loc. cit.). mr. bentham wrote a paper ( / . "linn. soc. journal," , page .) on the style and stigma in the goodenovieae, where he speaks of mr. darwin's belief that fertilisation takes place outside the indusium. this statement, which we imagine mr. bentham must have had from an unpublished source, was incomprehensible to him as long as he confined his work to such genera as goodenia, scaevola, velleia, coelogyne, in which the mechanism is much as above described; but on examining leschenaultia the meaning became clear. bentham writes of this genus:--"the indusium is usually described as broadly two-lipped, without any distinct stigma. the fact appears to be that the upper less prominent lip is stigmatic all over, inside and out, with a transverse band of short glandular hairs at its base outside, while the lower more prominent lip is smooth and glabrous, or with a tuft of rigid hairs. perhaps this lower lip and the upper band of hairs are all that correspond to the indusium of other genera; and the so-called upper lip, outside of which impregnation may well take place, as observed by mr. darwin, must be regarded as the true stigma." darwin's interest in the goodeniaceae was due to the mechanism being apparently fitted for self-fertilisation. in a writer signing himself f.w.b. made a communication to the "gardeners' chronicle" ( / . , page .), in which he expresses himself as "agreeably surprised" to find leschenaultia adapted for self-fertilisation, or at least for self-pollinisation. this led darwin to publish a short note in the same journal, in which he describes the penetration of pollen-tubes into the viscid surface on the outside of the indusium. ( / . , page . he had previously written in the "journal of horticulture and cottage gardener," may th, , page :--"leschenaultia formosa has apparently the most effective contrivance to prevent the stigma of one flower ever receiving a grain of pollen from another flower; for the pollen is shed in the early bud, and is there shut up round the stigma within a cup or indusium. but some observations led me to suspect that nevertheless insect agency here comes into play; for i found by holding a camel-hair pencil parallel to the pistil, and moving it as if it were a bee going to suck the nectar, the straggling hairs of the brush opened the lip of the indusium, entered it, stirred up the pollen, and brought out some grains. i did this to five flowers, and marked them. these five flowers all set pods; whereas only two other pods set on the whole plant, though covered with innumerable flowers...i wrote to mr. james drummond, at swan river in australia,...and he soon wrote to me that he had seen a bee cleverly opening the indusium and extracting pollen.") he also describes how a brush, pushed into the flower in imitation of an insect, presses "against the slightly projecting lower lip of the indusium, opens it, and some of the hairs enter and become smeared with pollen." the yield of pollen is therefore differently arranged in leschenaultia; for in the more typical genera it depends on the growth of the style inside the indusium. delpino, however (see hildebrand's version, loc. cit.), describes a similar opening of the cup produced by pressure on the hairs in some genera of the order.) down, june th [ ]. best and most beloved of men, i supplicate and entreat you to observe one point for me. remember that the goodeniaceae have weighed like an incubus for years on my soul. it relates to scaevola microcarpa. i find that in bud the indusium collects all the pollen splendidly, but, differently from leschenaultia, cannot be afterwards easily opened. further, i find that at an early stage, when the flower first opens, a boat-shaped stigma lies at the bottom of the indusium, and further that this stigma, after the flower has some time expanded, grows very rapidly, when the plant is kept hot, and pushes out of the indusium a mass of pollen; and at same time two horns project at the corners of the indusium. now the appearance of these horns makes me suppose that these are the stigmatic surfaces. will you look to this? for if they be by the relative position of the parts (with indusium and stigma bent at right angles to style) [i am led to think] that an insect entering a flower could not fail to have [its] whole back (at the period when, as i have seen, a whole mass of pollen is pushed out) covered with pollen, which would almost certainly get rubbed on the two horns. indeed, i doubt whether, without this aid, pollen would get on to the horns. what interests me in the case is the analogy in result with the lobelia, but by very different means. in lobelia the stigma, before it is mature, pushes by its circular brush of hairs the pollen out of the conjoined anthers; here the indusium collects pollen, and then the growth of the stigma pushes it out. in the course of about / hour, i found an indusium with hairs on the outer edge perfectly clogged with pollen, and horns protruded, which before the / hour had not one grain of pollen outside the indusium, and no trace of protruding horns. so you will see how i wish to know whether the horns are the true stigmatic surfaces. i would try the case experimentally by putting pollen on the horns, but my greenhouse is so cold, and my plant so small, and in such a little pot, that i suppose it would not seed... the little length of stigmatic horns at the moment when pollen is forced out of the indusium, compared to what they ultimately attain, makes me fancy that they are not then mature or ready, and if so, as in lobelia, each flower must be fertilised by pollen from another and earlier flower. how curious that the indusium should first so cleverly collect pollen and then afterwards push it out! yet how closely analogous to campanula brushing pollen out of the anther and retaining it on hairs till the stigma is ready. i am going to try whether campanula sets seed without insect agency. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letters are given here rather than in chronological order, as bearing on the leschenaultia problem. the latter part of letter refers to the cleistogamic flowers of viola.) down, may st [ ]. if you can screw out time, do look at the stigma of the blue leschenaultia biloba. i have just examined a large bud with the indusium not yet closed, and it seems to me certain that there is no stigma within. the case would be very important for me, and i do not like to trust solely to myself. i have been impregnating flowers, but it is rather difficult... i have just looked again at viola canina. the case is odder: only stamens which embrace the stigma have pollen; the other stamens have no anther-cells and no pollen. these fertile anthers are of different shape from the sterile others, and the scale representing the lower lip is larger and differently shaped from the other scales representing other petals. in v. odorata (single flower) all five stamens produce pollen. but i daresay all this is known. letter . to j.d. hooker. november rd [ ]. do you remember the scarlet leschenaultia formosa with the sticky margin outside the indusium? well, this is the stigma--at least, i find the pollen-tubes here penetrate and nowhere else. what a joke it would be if the stigma is always exterior, and this by far the greatest difficulty in my crossing notions should turn out a case eminently requiring insect aid, and consequently almost inevitably ensuring crossing. by the way, have you any other goodeniaceae which you could lend me, besides leschenaultia and scaevola, of which i have seen enough? i had a long letter the other day from crocker of chichester; he has the real spirit of an experimentalist, but has not done much this summer. letter . to f. muller. down, april th and th [ ]. i am very much obliged by your letter of february th, abounding with so many highly interesting facts. your account of the rubiaceous plant is one of the most extraordinary that i have ever read, and i am glad you are going to publish it. i have long wished some one to observe the fertilisation of scaevola, and you must permit me to tell you what i have observed. first, for the allied genus of leschenaultia: utterly disbelieving that it fertilises itself, i introduced a camel-hair brush into the flower in the same way as a bee would enter, and i found that the flowers were thus fertilised, which never otherwise happens; i then searched for the stigma, and found it outside the indusium with the pollen-tubes penetrating it; and i convinced dr. hooker that botanists were quite wrong in supposing that the stigma lay inside the indusium. in scaevola microcarpa the structure is very different, for the immature stigma lies at the base within the indusium, and as the stigma grows it pushes the pollen out of the indusium, and it then clings to the hairs which fringe the tips of the indusium; and when an insect enters the flower, the pollen (as i have seen) is swept from these long hairs on to the insect's back. the stigma continues to grow, but is not apparently ready for impregnation until it is developed into two long protruding horns, at which period all the pollen has been pushed out of the indusium. but my observations are here at fault, for i did not observe the penetration of the pollen-tubes. the case is almost parallel with that of lobelia. now, i hope you will get two plants of scaevola, and protect one from insects, leaving the other uncovered, and observe the results, both in the number of capsules produced, and in the average number of seeds in each. it would be well to fertilise half a dozen flowers under the net, to prove that the cover is not injurious to fertility. with respect to your case of aristolochia, i think further observation would convince you that it is not fertilised only by larvae, for in a nearly parallel case of an arum and a aristolochia, i found that insects flew from flower to flower. i would suggest to you to observe any cases of flowers which catch insects by their probosces, as occurs with some of the apocyneae ( / . probably asclepiadeae. see h. muller, "fertilisation of flowers," page .); i have never been able to conceive for what purpose (if any) this is effected; at the same time, if i tempt you to neglect your zoological work for these miscellaneous observations i shall be guilty of a great crime. to return for a moment to the indusium: how curious it is that the pollen should be thus collected in a special receptacle, afterwards to be swept out by insects' agency! i am surprised at what you tell me about the fewness of the flowers of your native orchids which produce seed-capsules. what a contrast with our temperate european species, with the exception of some species of ophrys!--i now know of three or four cases of self-fertilising orchids, but all these are provided with means for an occasional cross. i am sorry to say dr. cruger is dead from a fever. i received yesterday your paper in the "botanische zeitung" on the wood of climbing plants. ( / . fritz muller, "ueber das holz einiger um desterro wachsenden kletterpflanzen." "botanische zeitung," , pages , .) i have read as yet only your very interesting and curious remarks on the subject as bearing on the change of species; you have pleased me by the very high compliments which you pay to my paper. i have been at work since march st on a new english edition ( / . the th edition.) of my "origin," of which when published i will send you a copy. i have much regretted the time it has cost me, as it has stopped my other work. on the other hand, it will be useful for a new third german edition, which is now wanted. i have corrected it largely, and added some discussions, but not nearly so much as i wished to do, for, being able to work only two hours daily, i feared i should never get it finished. i have taken some facts and views from your work "fur darwin"; but not one quarter of what i should like to have quoted. letter . to a.g. more. down, june th, . i hope that you will forgive the liberty which i take in writing to you and requesting a favour. mr. h.c. watson has given me your address, and has told me that he thought that you would be willing to oblige me. will you please to read the enclosed, and then you will understand what i wish observed with respect to the bee-orchis. ( / . ophrys apifera.) what i especially wish, from information which i have received since publishing the enclosed, is that the state of the pollen-masses should be noted in flowers just beginning to wither, in a district where the bee-orchis is extremely common. i have been assured that in parts of isle of wight, viz., freshwater gate, numbers occur almost crowded together: whether anything of this kind occurs in your vicinity i know not; but, if in your power, i should be infinitely obliged for any information. as i am writing, i will venture to mention another wish which i have: namely, to examine fresh flowers and buds of the aceras, spiranthes, marsh epipactis, and any other rare orchis. the point which i wish to examine is really very curious, but it would take too long space to explain. could you oblige me by taking the great trouble to send me in an old tin canister any of these orchids, permitting me, of course, to repay postage? it would be a great kindness, but perhaps i am unreasonable to make such a request. if you will inform me whether you have leisure so far to oblige me, i would tell you my movements, for on account of my own health and that of my daughter, i shall be on the move for the next two or three weeks. i am sure i have much cause to apologise for the liberty which i have taken... letter . to a.g. more. down, august rd, . i thank you most sincerely for sending me the epipactis [palustris]. you can hardly imagine what an interesting morning's work you have given me, as the rostellum exhibited a quite new modification of structure. it has been extremely kind of you to take so very much trouble for me. have you looked at the pollen-masses of the bee-ophrys? i do not know whether the epipactis grows near to your house: if it does, and any object takes you to the place (pray do not for a moment think me so very unreasonable as to ask you to go on purpose), would you be so kind [as] to watch the flowers for a quarter of an hour, and mark whether any insects (and what?) visit these flowers. i should suppose they would crawl in by depressing the terminal portion of the labellum; and that when within the flower this terminal portion would resume its former position; and lastly, that the insect in crawling out would not depress the labellum, but would crawl out at back of flower. ( / . the observations of mr. william darwin on epipactis palustris given in the "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., , page , bear on this point. the chief fertilisers are hive-bees, which are too big to crawl into the flower. they cling to the labellum, and by depressing it open up the entrance to the flower. owing to the elasticity of the labellum and its consequent tendency to spring up when released, the bees, "as they left the flower, seemed to fly rather upwards." this agrees with darwin's conception of the mechanism of the flower as given in the first edition of the orchid book, , page , although at that time he imagined that the fertilising insect crawled into the flower. the extreme flexibility and elasticity of the labellum was first observed by mr. more (see first edition, page ). the description of the flower given in the above letter to mr. more is not quite clear; the reader is referred to the "fertilisation of orchids," loc. cit.) an insect crawling out of a recently opened flower would, i believe, have parts of the pollen-masses adhering to the back or shoulder. i have seen this in listera. how i should like to watch the epipactis. if you can it any time send me spiranthes or aceras or o. ustulata, you would complete your work of kindness. p.s.--if you should visit the epipactis again, would you gather a few of the lower flowers which have been opened for some time and have begun to wither a little, and observe whether pollen is well cleared out of anther-case. i have been struck with surprise that in nearly all the lower flowers sent by you, though much of the pollen has been removed, yet a good deal of pollen is left wasted within the anthers. i observed something of this kind in cephalanthera grandiflora. but i fear that you will think me an intolerable bore. letter . to a.g. more. down, august th, . i am infinitely obliged for your most clearly stated observations on the bee-orchis. it is now perfectly clear that something removes the pollen-masses far more with you than in this neighbourhood. but i am utterly puzzled about the foot-stalk being so often cut through. i should suspect snails. i yesterday found thirty-nine flowers, and of them only one pollen-mass in three flowers had been removed, and as these were extremely much-withered flowers i am not quite sure of the truth of this. the wind again is a new element of doubt. your observations will aid me extremely in coming to some conclusion. ( / . mr. more's observations on the percentage of flowers in which the pollinia were absent are quoted in "fertilisation of orchids," edition i., page .) i hope in a day or two to receive some day-moths, on the probosces of which i am assured the pollen-masses of the bee-orchis still adhere ( / . he was doomed to disappointment. on july th, , he wrote to mr. more:--"i found the other day a lot of bee-ophrys with the glands of the pollinia all in their pouches. all facts point clearly to eternal self-fertilisation in this species; yet i cannot swallow the bitter pill. have you looked at any this year?")... i wrote yesterday to thank you for the epipactis. for the chance of your liking to look at what i have found: take a recently opened flower, drag gently up the stigmatic surface almost any object (the side of a hooked needle), and you will find the cap of the hemispherical rostellum comes off with a touch, and being viscid on under-surface, clings to needle, and as pollen-masses are already attached to the back of rostellum, the needle drags out much pollen. but to do this, the curiously projecting and fleshy summits of anther-cases must at some time be pushed back slightly. now when an insect's head gets into the flower, when the flap of the labellum has closed by its elasticity, the insect would naturally creep out by the back-side of the flower. and mark when the insect flies to another flower with the pollen-masses adhering to it, if the flap of labellum did not easily open and allow free ingress to the insect, it would surely rub off the pollen on the upper petals, and so not leave it on stigma. it is to know whether i have rightly interpreted the structure of this whole flower that i am so curious to see how insects act. small insects, i daresay, would crawl in and out and do nothing. i hope that i shall not have wearied you with these details. if you would like to see a pretty and curious little sight, look to orchis pyramidalis, and you will see that the sticky glands are congenitally united into a saddle-shaped organ. remove this under microscope by pincers applied to foot-stalk of pollen-mass, and look quickly at the spontaneous movement of the saddle-shaped organs and see how beautifully adapted to seize proboscis of moth. letter . to j.d. hooker december th [ ]. many thanks about apocynum and meyen. the latter i want about some strange movements in cells of drosera, which meyen alone seems to have observed. ( / . no observations of meyen are mentioned in "insectivorous plants.") it is very curious, but trecul disbelieves that drosera really clasps flies! i should very much wish to talk over drosera with you. i did chloroform it, and the leaves which were already expanded did not recover thirty seconds of exposure for three days. i used the expression weight for the bit of hair which caused movement and weighed / of a grain; but i do not believe it is weight, and what it is, i cannot after many experiments conjecture. ( / . the doubt here expressed as to whether the result is due to actual weight is interesting in connection with pfeffer's remarkable discovery that a smooth object in contact with the gland produces no effect if the plant is protected from all vibration; on an ordinary table the slight shaking which reaches the plant is sufficient to make the body resting on the gland tremble, and thus produce a series of varying pressures--under these circumstances the gland is irritated, and the tentacle moves. see pfeffer, "untersuchungen aus d. bot. institut zu tubingen," volume i., , page ; also "insectivorous plants," edition ii., page .) the movement in this case does not depend on the chemical nature of substance. latterly i have tried experiments on single glands, and a microscopical atom of raw meat causes such rapid movement that i could see it move like hand of clock. in this case it is the nature of the object. it is wonderful the rapidity of the absorption: in ten seconds weak solution of carbonate of ammonia changes not the colour, but the state of contents within the glands. in two minutes thirty seconds juice of meat has been absorbed by gland and passed from cell to cell all down the pedicel (or hair) of the gland, and caused the sap to pass from the cells on the upper side of the pedicel to the lower side, and this causes the curvature of the pedicel. i shall work away next summer when drosera opens again, for i am much interested in subject. after the glandular hairs have curved, the oddest changes take place--viz., a segregation of the homogeneous pink fluid and necessary slow movements in the thicker matter. by jove, i sometimes think drosera is a disguised animal! you know that i always so like telling you what i do, that you must forgive me scribbling on my beloved drosera. farewell. i am so very glad that you are going to reform your ways; i am sure that you would have injured your health seriously. there is poor dana has done actually nothing--cannot even write a letter--for a year, and it is hoped that in another year he may quite recover. after this homily, good night, my dear friend. good heavens, i ought not to scold you, but thank you, for writing so long and interesting a letter. letter . to e. cresy. down, december th [ ?]. after writing out the greater part of my paper on drosera, i thought of so many points to try, and i wished to re-test the basis of one large set of experiments, namely, to feel still more sure than i am, that a drop of plain water never produces any effect, that i have resolved to publish nothing this year. for i found in the record of my daily experiments one suspicious case. i must wait till next summer. it will be difficult to try any solid substances containing nitrogen, such as ivory; for two quite distinct causes excite the movement, namely, mechanical irritation and presence of nitrogen. when a solid substance is placed on leaf it becomes clasped, but is released sooner than when a nitrogenous solid is clasped; yet it is difficult (except with raw meat and flies) to be sure of the result, owing to differences in vigour of different plants. the last experiments which i tried before my plants became too languid are very curious, and were tried by putting microscopical atoms on the gland itself of single hairs; and it is perfectly evident that an atom of human hair, / of a grain (as ascertained by weighing a length of hair) in weight, causes conspicuous movement. i do not believe (for atoms of cotton thread acted) it is the chemical nature; and some reasons make me doubt whether it is actual weight; it is not the shadow; and i am at present, after many experiments, confounded to know what the cause is. that these atoms did really act and alter the state of the contents of all the cells in the glandular hair, which moved, was perfectly clear. but i hope next summer to make out a good deal more... letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may th [ ]. i have been putting off writing from day to day, as i did not wish to trouble you, till my wish for a little news will not let me rest... i have no news to tell you, for i have had no interesting letters for some time, and have not seen a soul. i have been going through the "cottage gardener" of last year, on account chiefly of beaton's articles ( / . beaton was a regular contributor to the "cottage gardener," and wrote various articles on cross breeding, etc., in . one of these was in reply to a letter published in the "cottage gardener," may th, , page , in which darwin asked for information as to the compositae and the hollyhock being crossed by insect visitors. in the number for june th, , page , darwin wrote on the variability of the central flower of the carrot and the peloria of the central flower in pelargonium. an extract from a letter by darwin on leschenaultia, "cottage gardener," may th, , page , is given in letter , note.); he strikes me as a clever but d--d cock-sure man (as lord melbourne said), and i have some doubts whether to be much trusted. i suspect he has never recorded his experiment at the time with care. he has made me indignant by the way he speaks of gartner, evidently knowing nothing of his work. i mean to try and pump him in the "cottage gardener," and shall perhaps defend gartner. he alludes to me occasionally, and i cannot tell with what spirit. he speaks of "this mr. darwin" in one place as if i were a very noxious animal. let me have a line about poor henslow pretty soon. ( / . in a letter of may th, , darwin wrote again:--) by the way, thanks about beaton. i have now read more of his writings, and one answer to me in "cottage gardener." i can plainly see that he is not to be trusted. he does not well know his own subject of crossing. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . part of this letter has been published in "life and letters," iii., page .) , hesketh crescent, torquay [ ]. ...the beauty of the adaptation of parts seems to me unparalleled. i should think or guess [that] waxy pollen was most differentiated. in cypripedium, which seems least modified, and a much exterminated group, the grains are single. in all others, as far as i have seen, they are in packets of four; and these packets cohere into many wedge-formed masses in orchis, into eight, four, and finally two. it seems curious that a flower should exist which could, at most, fertilise only two other flowers, seeing how abundant pollen generally is; this fact i look at as explaining the perfection of the contrivance by which the pollen, so important from its fewness, is carried from flower to flower. by the way, cephalanthera has single pollen-grains, but this seems to be a case of degradation, for the rostellum is utterly aborted. oddly, the columns of pollen are here kept in place by very early penetration of pollen-tubes into the edge of the stigma; nevertheless, it receives more pollen by insect agency. epithecia [dichaea] has done me one good little turn. i often speculated how the caudicle of orchis had been formed. ( / . the gradation here suggested is thoroughly worked out in the "fertilisation of orchids," edition i., page , edition ii., page .) i had noticed slight clouds in the substance half way down; i have now dissected them out, and i find they are pollen-grains fairly embedded and useless. if you suppose the pollen-grains to abort in the lower half of the pollinia of epipactis, but the parallel elastic threads to remain and cohere, you have the caudicle of orchis, and can understand the few embedded and functionless pollen-grains. i must not look at any more exotic orchids: hearty thanks for your offer. but if you would make one single observation for me on cypripedium, i should be glad. asa gray writes to me that the outside of the pollen-masses is sticky in this genus; i find that the whole mass consists of pollen-grains immersed in a sticky brownish thick fluid. you could tell by a mere lens and penknife. if it is, as i find it, pollen could not get on the stigma without insect aid. cypripedium confounds me much. i conjecture that drops of nectar are secreted by the surface of the labellum beneath the anthers and in front of the stigma, and that the shield over the anthers and the form of labellum is to compel insects to insert their proboscis all round both organs. ( / . this view was afterwards given up.) it would be troublesome for you to look at this, as it is always bothersome to catch the nectar secreting, and the cup of the labellum gets filled with water by gardener's watering. i have examined listera ovata, cordata, and neottia nidus avis: the pollen is uniform; i suspect you must have seen some observation founded on a mistake from the penetration and hardening of sticky fluid from the rostellum, which does penetrate the pollen a little. it is mere virtue which makes me not wish to examine more orchids; for i like it far better than writing about varieties of cocks and hens and ducks. nevertheless, i have just been looking at lindley's list in the "vegetable kingdom," and i cannot resist one or two of his great division of arethuseae, which includes vanilla. and as i know so well the ophreae, i should like (god forgive me) any one of the satyriadae, disidae and corycidae. i fear my long lucubrations will have wearied you, but it has amused me to write, so forgive me. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . part of the following letter is published in the "life and letters," the remainder, with the omission of part bearing on the glen roy problem, is now given as an example of the varied botanical assistance darwin received from sir joseph hooker. for the part relating to verbascum see the "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., , volume ii., page . the point is that the white and yellow flowered plants which occur in two species of verbascum are undoubted varieties, yet "the sterility which results from the crossing of the differently coloured varieties of the same species is fully as great as that which occurs in many cases when distinct species are crossed." the sterility of the long-styled form (b) of linum grandiflorum, with its own pollen is described in "forms of flowers," edition ii., page : his conclusions on the short-styled form (a) differ from those in the present letter.) september th [ ]. i am going to beg for help, and i will explain why i want it. you offer cypripedium; i should be very glad of a specimen, and of any good-sized vandeae, or indeed any orchids, for this reason: i never thought of publishing separately, and therefore did not keep specimens in spirits, and now i should be very glad of a few woodcuts to illustrate my few remarks on exotic orchids. if you can send me any, send them by post in a tin canister on middle of day of saturday, october th, for sowerby will be here. secondly: have you any white and yellow varieties of verbascum which you could give me, or propagate for me, or lend me for a year? i have resolved to try gartner's wonderful and repeated statement, that pollen of white and yellow varieties, whether used on the varieties or on distinct species, has different potency. i do not think any experiment can be more important on the origin of species; for if he is correct we certainly have what huxley calls new physiological species arising. i should require several species of verbascum besides the white and yellow varieties of the same species. it will be tiresome work, but if i can anyhow get the plants, it shall be tried. thirdly: can you give me seeds of any rubiaceae of the sub-order cinchoneae, as spermacoce, diodia, mitchella, oldenlandia? asa gray says they present two forms like primula. i am sure that this subject is well worth working out. i have just almost proved a very curious case in linum grandiflorum which presents two forms, a and b. pollen of a is perfectly fertile on stigma of a. but pollen of b is absolutely barren on its own stigma; you might as well put so much flour on it. it astounded me to see the stigmas of b purple with its own pollen; and then put a few grains of similar-looking pollen of a on them, and the germen immediately and always swelled; those not thus treated never swelling. fourthly: can you give me any very hairy saxifraga (for their functions) [i.e. the functions of the hairs]? i send you a resume of my requests, to save you trouble. nor would i ask for so much aid if i did not think all these points well worth trying to investigate. my dear old friend, a letter from you always does me a world of good. and, the lord have mercy on me, what a return i make. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october th [ ]. will you have the kindness to read the enclosed, and look at the diagram. six words will answer my question. it is not an important point, but there is to me an irresistible charm in trying to make out homologies. ( / . in he wrote to mr. bentham: "it was very kind of you to write to me about the orchideae, for it has pleased me to an extreme degree that i could have been of the least use to you about the nature of the parts."--"life and letters," iii., page .) you know the membranous cup or clinandrum, in many orchids, behind the stigma and rostellum: it is formed of a membrane which unites the filament of the normal dorsal anther with the edges of the pistil. the clinandrum is largely developed in malaxis, and is of considerable importance in retaining the pollinia, which as soon as the flower opens are quite loose. the appearance and similarity of the tissues, etc., at once gives suspicion that the lateral membranes of the clinandrum are the two other and rudimentary anthers, which in orchis and cephalanthera, etc., exist as mere papillae, here developed and utilised. now for my question. exactly in the middle of the filament of the normal anther, and exactly in the middle of the lateral membrane of the clinandrum, and running up to the same height, are quite similar bundles of spiral vessels; ending upwards almost suddenly. now is not this structure a good argument that i interpret the homologies of the sides of clinandrum rightly? ( / . though robert brown made use of the spiral vessels of orchids, yet according to eichler, "bluthendiagramme," , volume i., page , darwin was the first to make substantial additions to the conclusions deducible from the course of the vessels in relation to the problem of the morphology of these plants. eichler gives darwin's diagram side by side with that of van tieghem without attempting to decide between the differences in detail by which they are characterised.) i find that the great bauer does not draw very correctly! ( / . f. bauer, whom pritzel calls "der grosste pflanzenmaler." the reference is to his "illustrations of orchidaceous plants, with notes and prefatory remarks by john lindley," london, - , folio. see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) and, good heavens, what a jumble he makes on functions. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october nd. [ ]. acropera is a beast,--stigma does not open, everything seems contrived that it shall not be anyhow fertilised. there is something very odd about it, which could only be made out by incessant watching on several individual plants. i never saw the very curious flower of canna; i should say the pollen was deposited where it is to prevent inevitable self-fertilisation. you have no time to try the smallest experiment, else it would be worth while to put pollen on some stigmas (supposing that it does not seed freely with you). anyhow, insects would probably carry pollen from flower to flower, for kurr states the tube formed by pistil, stamen and "nectarblatt" secretes (i presume internally) much nectar. thanks for sending me the curious flower. now i want much some wisdom; though i must write at considerable length, your answer may be very brief. (figure .--floral diagram of an orchid. the "missing bundle" could not be found in some species.) in r. brown's admirable paper in the "linnean transacts." ( / . volume xvi., page .) he suggests (and lindley cautiously agrees) that the flower of orchids consists of five whorls, the inner whorl of the two whorls of anthers being all rudimentary, and when the labellum presents ridges, two or three of the anthers of both whorls [are] combined with it. in the ovarium there are six bundles of vessels: r. brown judged by transverse sections. it occurred to me, after what you said, to trace the vessels longitudinally, and i have succeeded well. look at my diagram [figure ] (which please return, for i am transported with admiration at it), which shows the vessels which i have traced, one bundle to each of fifteen theoretical organs, and no more. you will see the result is nothing new, but it seems to confirm strongly r. brown, for i have succeeded (perhaps he did, but he does not say so) in tracing the vessels belonging to each organ in front of each other to the same bundle in the ovarium: thus the vessels going to the lower sepal, to the side of the labellum, and to one stigma (when there are two) all distinctly branch from one ovarian bundle. so in other cases, but i have not completely traced (only seen) that going to the rostellum. but here comes my only point of novelty: in all orchids as yet looked at (even one with so simple a labellum as gymnadenia and malaxis) the vessels on the two sides of the labellum are derived from the bundle which goes to the lower sepal, as in the diagram. this leads me to conclude that the labellum is always a compound organ. now i want to know whether it is conceivable that the vessels coming from one main bundle should penetrate an organ (the labellum) which receives its vessels from another main bundle? does it not imply that all that part of the labellum which is supplied by vessels coming from a lateral bundle must be part of a primordially distinct organ, however closely the two may have become united? it is curious in gymnadenia to trace the middle anterior bundle in the ovarium: when it comes to the orifice of the nectary it turns and runs right down it, then comes up the opposite side and runs to the apex of the labellum, whence each side of the nectary is supplied by vessels from the bundles, coming from the lower sepals. hence even the thin nectary is essentially, i infer, tripartite; hence its tendency to bifurcation at its top. this view of the labellum always consisting of three organs (i believe four when thick, as in mormodes, at base) seems to me to explain its great size and tripartite form, compared with the other petals. certainly, if i may trust the vessels, the simple labellum of gymnadenia consists of three organs soldered together. forgive me for writing at such length; a very brief answer will suffice. i am desperately interested in the subject: the destiny of the whole human race is as nothing to the course of vessels of orchids... what plant has the most complex single stigma and pistil? the most complex i, in my ignorance, can think of is in iris. i want to know whether anything beats in modification the rostellum of catasetum. to-morrow i mean to be at catasetum. hurrah! what species is it? it is wonderfully different from that which veitch sent me, which was c. saccatum. according to the vessels, an orchid flower consists of three sepals and two petals free; and of a compound organ (its labellum), consisting of one petal and of two (or three) modified anthers; and of a second compound body consisting of three pistils, one normal anther, and two modified anthers often forming the sides of the clinandrum. letter . to john lindley. ( / . it was in the autumn of that darwin made up his mind to publish his orchid work as a book, rather than as a paper in the linnean society's "journal." ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page .) the following letter shows that the new arrangement served as an incitement to fresh work.) down, october th [ ?] mr. james veitch has been most generous. i did not know that you had spoken to him. if you see him pray say i am truly grateful; i dare not write to a live bishop or a lady, but if i knew the address of "rucker"? and might use your name as introduction, i might write. i am half mad on the subject. hooker has sent me many exotics, but i stopped him, for i thought i should make a fool of myself; but since i have determined to publish i much regret it. (figure .--habenaria chlorantha (longitudinal course of bundles).) ( / . the three upper curved outlines, two of which passing through the words "upper sepal," "upper petal," "lower sepal," were in red in the original; for explanation see text.) letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter is of interest because it relates to one of the two chief difficulties darwin met with in working out the morphology of the orchid flower. in the orchid book ( / . edition i., page .) he wrote, "this anomaly [in habenaria] is so far of importance, as it throws some doubt on the view which i have taken of the labellum being always an organ compounded of one petal and two petaloid stamens." that is to say, it leaves it open for a critic to assert that the vessels which enter the sides of the labellum are lateral vessels of the petal and do not necessarily represent petaloid stamens. in the sequel he gives a satisfactory answer to the supposed objector.) down, november th, [ ]. for the love of god help me. i believe all my work (about a fortnight) is useless. look at this accursed diagram (figure ) of the butterfly-orchis [habenaria], which i examined after writing to you yesterday, when i thought all my work done. some of the ducts of the upper sepal ( / . these would be described by modern morphologists as lower, not upper, sepals, etc. darwin was aware that he used these terms incorrectly.) and upper petal run to the wrong bundles on the column. i have seen no such case. this case apparently shows that not the least reliance can be placed on the course of ducts. i am sure of my facts. there is great adhesion and extreme displacement of parts where the organs spring from the top of the ovarium. asa gray says ducts are very early developed, and it seems to me wonderful that they should pursue this course. it may be said that the lateral ducts in the labellum running into the antero-lateral ovarian bundle is no argument that the labellum consists of three organs blended together. in desperation (and from the curious way the base of upper petals are soldered at basal edges) i fancied the real form of upper sepal, upper petal and lower sepal might be as represented by red lines, and that there had been an incredible amount of splitting of sepals and petals and subsequent fusion. this seems a monstrous notion, but i have just looked at bauer's drawing of allied bonatea, and there is a degree of lobing of petals and sepals which would account for anything. now could you spare me a dry flower out of your herbarium of bonatea speciosa ( / . see "fertilisation of orchids," edition i., page (note), where the resemblances between the anomalous vessels of bonatea and habenaria are described. on november th, , he wrote to sir joseph: "you are a true friend in need. i can hardly bear to let the bonatea soak long enough."), that i might soak and look for ducts. if i cannot explain the case of habenaria all my work is smashed. i was a fool ever to touch orchids. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. what two very interesting and useful letters you have sent me. you rather astound me with respect to value of grounds of generalisation in the morphology of plants. it reminds me that years ago i sent you a grass to name, and your answer was, "it is certainly festuca (so-and-so), but it agrees as badly with the description as most plants do." i have often laughed over this answer of a great botanist...lindley, from whom i asked for an orchid with a simple labellum, has most kindly sent me a lot of what he marks "rare" and "rarissima" of peloric orchids, etc., but as they are dried i know not whether they will be of use. he has been most kind, and has suggested my writing to lady d. nevill, who has responded in a wonderfully kind manner, and has sent a lot of treasures. but i must stop; otherwise, by jove, i shall be transformed into a botanist. i wish i had been one; this morphology is surprisingly interesting. looking to your note, i may add that certainly the fifteen alternating bundles of spiral vessels (mingled with odd beadlike vessels in some cases) are present in many orchids. the inner whorl of anther ducts are oftenest aborted. i must keep clear of apostasia, though i have cast many a longing look at it in bauer. ( / . apostasia has two fertile anthers like cypripedium. it is placed by engler and prantl in the apostasieae or apostasiinae, among the orchideae, by others in a distinct but closely allied group.) i hope i may be well enough to read my own paper on thursday, but i have been very seedy lately. ( / . "on the two forms, or dimorphic condition, in the species of the genus primula," "linn. soc. journ." . he did read the paper, but it cost him the next day in bed. "life and letters," iii., page .) i see there is a paper at the royal on the same night, which will more concern you, on fossil plants of bovey ( / . oswald heer, "the fossil flora of bovey tracey," "phil. trans. r. soc." , page .), so that i suppose i shall not have you; but you must read my paper when published, as i shall very much like to hear what you think. it seems to me a large field for experiment. i shall make use of my orchid little volume in illustrating modification of species doctrine, but i keep very, very doubtful whether i am not doing a foolish action in publishing. how i wish you would keep to your old intention and write a book on plants. ( / . possibly a book similar to that described in letter .) letter . to g. bentham. down, november th [ ]. our notes have crossed on the road. i know it is an honour to have a paper in the "transactions," and i am much obliged to you for proposing it, but i should greatly prefer to publish in the "journal." nor does this apply exclusively to myself, for in old days at the geological society i always protested against an abstract appearing when the paper itself might appear. i abominate also the waste of time (and it would take me a day) in making an abstract. if the referee on my paper should recommend it to appear in the "transactions," will you be so kind as to lay my earnest request before the council that it may be permitted to appear in the "journal?" you must be very busy with your change of residence; but when you are settled and have some leisure, perhaps you will be so kind as to give me some cases of dimorphism, like that of primula. should you object to my adding them to those given me by a. gray? by the way, i heard from a. gray this morning, and he gives me two very curious cases in boragineae. letter . to john lindley. ( / . in the following fragment occurs the earliest mention of darwin's work on the three sexual forms of catasetum tridentatum. sir r. schomburgk ( / . "trans. linn. soc." xvii., page .) described catasetum tridentatum, monacanthus viridis and myanthus barbatus occurring on a single plant, but it remained for darwin to make out that they are the male, female and hermaphrodite forms of a single species. ( / . "fertilisation of orchids," edition i., page ; edition ii., page .) with regard to the species of acropera (gongora) ( / . acropera loddigesii = gongora galeata: a. luteola = g. fusca ("index kewensis").) he was wrong in his surmise. the apparent sterility seems to be explicable by hildebrand's discovery ( / . "bot. zeitung," and .) that in some orchids the ovules are not developed until pollinisation has occurred. ( / . "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page . see letter .)) down, december th [ ]. i am so nearly ready for press that i will not ask for anything more; unless, indeed, you stumbled on mormodes in flower. as i am writing i will just mention that i am convinced from the rudimentary state of the ovules, and from the state of the stigma, that the whole plant of acropera luteola (and i believe a. loddigesii) is male. have you ever seen any form from the same countries which could be the females? of course no answer is expected unless you have ever observed anything to bear on this. i may add [judging from the] state of the ovules and of the pollen [that]:-- catasetum tridentatum is male (and never seeds, according to schomburgk, whom you have accidentally misquoted in the "vegetable kingdom"). monacanthus viridis is female. myanthus barbatus is the hermaphrodite form of same species. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december th [ ]. thanks for your note. i have not written for a long time, for i always fancy, busy as you are, that my letters must be a bore; though i like writing, and always enjoy your notes. i can sympathise with you about fear of scarlet fever: to the day of my death i shall never forget all the sickening fear about the other children, after our poor little baby died of it. the "genera plantarum" must be a tremendous work, and no doubt very valuable (such a book, odd as it may appear, would be very useful even to me), but i cannot help being rather sorry at the length of time it must take, because i cannot enter on and understand your work. will you not be puzzled when you come to the orchids? it seems to me orchids alone would be work for a man's lifetime; i cannot somehow feel satisfied with lindley's classification; the malaxeae and epidendreae seem to me very artificially separated. ( / . pfitzer (in the "pflanzenfamilien") places epidendrum in the laeliinae-cattleyeae, malaxis in the liparidinae. he states that bentham united the malaxideae and epidendreae.) not that i have seen enough to form an opinion worth anything. your african plant seems to be a vegetable ornithorhynchus, and indeed much more than that. ( / . see sir j.d. hooker, "on welwitschia, a new genus of gnetaceae." "linn. soc. trans." xxiv., - .) the more i read about plants the more i get to feel that all phanerogams seem comparable with one class, as lepidoptera, rather than with one kingdom, as the whole insecta. ( / . he wrote to hooker (december th, ): "i wrote carelessly about the value of phanerogams; what i was thinking of was that the sub-groups seemed to blend so much more one into another than with most classes of animals. i suspect crustacea would show more difference in the extreme forms than phanerogams, but, as you say, it is wild speculation. yet it is very strange what difficulty botanists seem to find in grouping the families together into masses.") thanks for your comforting sentence about the accursed ducts (accursed though they be, i should like nothing better than to work at them in the allied orders, if i had time). i shall be ready for press in three or four weeks, and have got all my woodcuts drawn. i fear much that publishing separately will prove a foolish job, but i do not care much, and the work has greatly amused me. the catasetum has not flowered yet! in writing to lindley about an orchid which he sent me, i told him a little about acropera, and in answer he suggests that gongora may be its female. he seems dreadfully busy, and i feel that i have more right to kill you than to kill him; so can you send me one or at most two dried flowers of gongora? if you know the habitat of acropera luteola, a gongora from the same country would be the best, but any true gongora would do; if its pollen should prove as rudimentary as that of monacanthus relatively to catasetum, i think i could easily perceive it even in dried specimens when well soaked. i have picked a little out of lecoq, but it is awful tedious hunting. bates is getting on with his natural history travels in one volume. ( / . h.w. bates, the "naturalist on the amazons," . see volume i., letters , , also "life and letters," volume ii., page .) i have read the first chapter in ms., and i think it will be an excellent book and very well written; he argues, in a good and new way to me, that tropical climate has very little direct relation to the gorgeous colouring of insects (though of course he admits the tropics have a far greater number of beautiful insects) by taking all the few genera common to britain and amazonia, and he finds that the species proper to the latter are not at all more beautiful. i wonder how this is in species of the same restricted genera of plants. if you can remember it, thank bentham for getting my primula paper printed so quickly. i do enjoy getting a subject off one's hands completely. i have now got dimorphism in structure in eight natural orders just like primula. asa gray sent me dried flowers of a capital case in amsinkia spectabilis, one of the boragineae. i suppose you do not chance to have the plant alive at kew. letter . to a.g. more. down, june th, . if you are well and have leisure, will you kindly give me one bit of information: does ophrys arachnites occur in the isle of wight? or do the intermediate forms, which are said to connect abroad this species and the bee-orchis, ever there occur? some facts have led me to suspect that it might just be possible, though improbable in the highest degree, that the bee [orchis] might be the self-fertilising form of o. arachnites, which requires insects' aid, something [in the same way] as we have self-fertilising flowers of the violet and others requiring insects. i know the case is widely different, as the bee is borne on a separate plant and is incomparably commoner. this would remove the great anomaly of the bee being a perpetual self-fertiliser. certain malpighiaceae for years produce only one of the two forms. what has set my head going on this is receiving to-day a bee having one alone of the best marked characters of o. arachnites. ( / . ophrys arachnites is probably more nearly allied to o. aranifera than to o. apifera. for a case somewhat analogous to that suggested see the description of o. scolopax in "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) pray forgive me troubling you. letter . to g. bentham. down, june nd [ ?]. here is a piece of presumption! i must think that you are mistaken in ranking hab[enaria] chlorantha ( / . in hooker's "students' flora," , page , h. chlorantha is given as a subspecies of h. bifolia. sir j.d. hooker adds that they are "according to darwin, distinct, and require different species of moths to fertilise them. they vary in the position and distances of their anther-cells, but intermediates occur." see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) as a variety of h. bifolia; the pollen-masses and stigma differ more than in most of the best species of orchis. when i first examined them i remember telling hooker that moths would, i felt sure, fertilise them in a different manner; and i have just had proof of this in a moth sent me with the pollinia (which can be easily recognised) of h. chlorantha attached to its proboscis, instead of to the sides of its face, as an h. bifolia. forgive me scribbling this way; but when a man gets on his hobby-horse he always is run away with. anyhow, nothing here requires any answer. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, [september] th [ ]. your letter is a mine of wealth, but first i must scold you: i cannot abide to hear you abuse yourself, even in joke, and call yourself a stupid dog. you, in fact, thus abuse me, because for long years i have looked up to you as the man whose opinion i have valued more on any scientific subject than any one else in the world. i continually marvel at what you know, and at what you do. i have been looking at the "genera" ( / . "genera plantarum," by bentham and hooker, volume i., part i., .), and of course cannot judge at all of its real value, but i can judge of the amount of condensed facts under each family and genus. i am glad you know my feeling of not being able to judge about one's own work; but i suspect that you have been overworking. i should think you could not give too much time to wellwitchia (i spell it different every time i write it) ( / . "on welwitschia," "linn. soc. trans." [ ], xxiv., .); at least i am sure in the animal kingdom monographs cannot be too long on the osculant groups. hereafter i shall be excessively glad to read a paper about aldrovanda ( / . see "insectivorous plants," page .), and am very much obliged for reference. it is pretty to see how the caught flies support drosera; nothing else can live. thanks about plants with two kinds of anthers. i presume (if an included flower was a cassia) ( / . todd has described a species of cassia with an arrangement of stamens like the melastomads. see chapter .x.ii.) that cassia is like lupines, but with some stamens still more rudimentary. if i hear i will return the three melastomads; i do not want them, and, indeed, have cuttings. i am very low about them, and have wasted enormous labour over them, and cannot yet get a glimpse of the meaning of the parts. i wish i knew any botanical collector to whom i could apply for seeds in their native land of any heterocentron or monochoetum; i have raised plenty of seedlings from your plants, but i find in other cases that from a homomorphic union one generally gets solely the parent form. do you chance to know of any botanical collector in mexico or peru? i must not now indulge myself with looking after vessels and homologies. some future time i will indulge myself. by the way, some time i want to talk over the alternation of organs in flowers with you, for i think i must have quite misunderstood you that it was not explicable. i found out the verbascum case by pure accident, having transplanted one for experiment, and finding it to my astonishment utterly sterile. i formerly thought with you about rarity of natural hybrids, but i am beginning to change: viz., oxlips (not quite proven), verbascum, cistus (not quite proven), aegilops triticoides (beautifully shown by godron), weddell's and your orchids ( / . for verbascum see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page ; for cistus, ibid., edition ii., volume i., page , volume ii., page ; for aegilops, ibid., edition ii., volume i., page , note.), and i daresay many others recorded. your letters are one of my greatest pleasures in life, but i earnestly beg you never to write unless you feel somewhat inclined, for i know how hard you work, as i work only in the morning it is different with me, and is only a pleasant relaxation. you will never know how much i owe to you for your constant kindness and encouragement. letter . to john lubbock (lord avebury). cliff cottage, bournemouth, hants, september nd [ ]. hearty thanks for your note. i am so glad that your tour answered so splendidly. my poor patients ( / . mrs. darwin and one of her sons, both recovering from scarlet fever.) got here yesterday, and are doing well, and we have a second house for the well ones. i write now in great haste to beg you to look (though i know how busy you are, but i cannot think of any other naturalist who would be careful) at any field of common red clover (if such a field is near you) and watch the hive-bees: probably (if not too late) you will see some sucking at the mouth of the little flowers and some few sucking at the base of the flowers, at holes bitten through the corollas. all that you will see is that the bees put their heads deep into the [flower] head and rout about. now, if you see this, do for heaven's sake catch me some of each and put in spirits and keep them separate. i am almost certain that they belong to two castes, with long and short proboscids. this is so curious a point that it seems worth making out. i cannot hear of a clover field near here. letter . to john lubbock (lord avebury). cliff cottage, bournemouth, wednesday, september rd [ ]. i beg a million pardons. abuse me to any degree, but forgive me: it is all an illusion (but almost excusable) about the bees. ( / . h. muller, "fertilisation of flowers," page , describes hive-bees visiting trifolium pratense for the sake of the pollen. darwin may perhaps have supposed that these were the variety of bees whose proboscis was long enough to reach the nectar. in "cross and self fertilisation," page , darwin describes hive-bees apparently searching for a secretion on the calyx. in the same passage in "cross and self fertilisation" he quotes muller as stating that hive-bees obtain nectar from red clover by breaking apart the petals. this seems to us a misinterpretation of the "befruchtung der blumen," page .) i do so hope that you have not wasted any time from my stupid blunder. i hate myself, i hate clover, and i hate bees. (figure .--diagram of cruciferous flower. figure .--dissection of cruciferous flower. laid flat open, showing by dotted lines the course of spiral vessels in all the organs; sepals and petals shown on one side alone, with the stamens on one side above with course of vessels indicated, but not prolonged. near side of pistil with one spiral vessel cut away.) letter . to j.d. hooker. cliff cottage, bournemouth, september th, . you once told me that cruciferous flowers were anomalous in alternation of parts, and had given rise to some theory of dedoublement. having nothing on earth to do here, i have dissected all the spiral vessels in a flower, and instead of burning my diagrams [figures and ], i send them to you, you miserable man. but mind, i do not want you to send me a discussion, but just some time to say whether my notions are rubbish, and then burn the diagrams. it seems to me that all parts alternate beautifully by fours, on the hypothesis that two short stamens of outer whorl are aborted ( / . the view given by darwin is (according to eichler) that previously held by knuth, wydler, chatin, and others. eichler himself believes that the flower is dimerous, the four longer stamens being produced by the doubling or splitting of the upper (i.e. antero-posterior) pair of stamens. if this view is correct, and there are good reasons for it, it throws much suspicion on the evidence afforded by the course of vessels, for there is no trace of the common origin of the longer stamens in the diagram (figure ). again, if eichler is right, the four vessels shown in the section of the ovary are misleading. darwin afterwards gave a doubtful explanation of this, and concluded that the ovary is dimerous. see letter .); and this view is perhaps supported by their being so few, only two sub-bundles in the two lateral main bundles, where i imagine two short stamens have aborted, but i suppose there is some valid objection against this notion. the course of the side vessels in the sepals is curious, just like my difficulty in habenaria. ( / . see letter .) i am surprised at the four vessels in the ovarium. can this indicate four confluent pistils? anyhow, they are in the right alternating position. the nectary within the base of the shorter stamens seems to cause the end sepals apparently, but not really, to arise beneath the lateral sepals. i think you will understand my diagrams in five minutes, so forgive me for bothering you. my writing this to you reminds me of a letter which i received yesterday from claparede, who helped the french translatress of the "origin" ( / . the late mlle. royer.), and he tells me he had difficulty in preventing her (who never looked at a bee's cell) from altering my whole description, because she affirmed that an hexagonal prism must have an hexagonal base! almost everywhere in the "origin," when i express great doubt, she appends a note explaining the difficulty, or saying that there is none whatever!! ( / . see "life and letters," ii., page .) it is really curious to know what conceited people there are in the world (people, for instance, after looking at one cruciferous flower, explain their homologies). this is a nice, but most barren country, and i can find nothing to look at. even the brooks and ponds produce nothing. the country is like patagonia. my wife is almost well, thank god, and leonard is wonderfully improved ...good god, what an illness scarlet fever is! the doctor feared rheumatic fever for my wife, but she does not know her risk. it is now all over. (figure .) letter . to j.d. hooker. cliff cottage, bournemouth, thursday evening [september th, ]. thanks for your pleasant note, which told me much news, and upon the whole good, of yourselves. you will be awfully busy for a time, but i write now to say that if you think it really worth while to send me a few dielytra, or other fumariaceous plant (which i have already tried in vain to find here) in a little tin box, i will try and trace the vessels; but please observe, i do not know that i shall have time, for i have just become wonderfully interested in experimenting on drosera with poisons, etc. if you send any fumariaceous plant, send if you can, also two or three single balsams. after writing to you, i looked at vessels of ovary of a sweet-pea, and from this and other cases i believe that in the ovary the midrib vessel alone gives homologies, and that the vessels on the edge of the carpel leaf often run into the wrong bundle, just like those on the sides of the sepals. hence i [suppose] in crucifers that the ovarium consists of two pistils; aa [figure ] being the midrib vessels, and bb being those formed of the vessels on edges of the two carpels, run together, and going to wrong bundles. i came to this conclusion before receiving your letter. i wonder why asa gray will not believe in the quaternary arrangement; i had fancied that you saw some great difficulty in the case, and that made me think that my notion must be wrong. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. masdevallia turns out nothing wonderful ( / . this may refer to the homologies of the parts. he was unable to understand the mechanism of the flower.--"fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .); i was merely stupid about it; i am not the less obliged for its loan, for if i had lived till years old i should have been uneasy about it. it shall be returned the first day i send to bromley. i have steamed the other plants, and made the sensitive plant very sensitive, and shall soon try some experiments on it. but after all it will only be amusement. nevertheless, if not causing too much trouble, i should be very glad of a few young plants of this and hedysarum in summer ( / . hedysarum or desmodium gyrans, the telegraph-plant.), for this kind of work takes no time and amuses me much. have you seeds of oxalis sensitiva, which i see mentioned in books? by the way, what a fault it is in henslow's "botany" that he gives hardly any references; he alludes to great series of experiments on absorption of poison by roots, but where to find them i cannot guess. possibly the all-knowing oliver may know. i can plainly see that the glands of drosera, from rapid power (almost instantaneous) of absorption and power of movement, give enormous advantage for such experiments. and some day i will enjoy myself with a good set to work; but it will be a great advantage if i can get some preliminary notion on other sensitive plants and on roots. oliver said he would speak about some seeds of lythrum hyssopifolium being preserved for me. by the way, i am rather disgusted to find i cannot publish this year on lythrum salicaria; i must make additional crosses. all that i expected is true, but i have plain indication of much higher complexity. there are three pistils of different structure and functional power, and i strongly suspect altogether five kinds of pollen all different in this one species! ( / . see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page .) by any chance have you at kew any odd varieties of the common potato? i want to grow a few plants of every variety, to compare flowers, leaves, fruit, etc., as i have done with peas, etc. ( / . "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page . compare also the similar facts with regard to cabbages, loc. cit., page . some of the original specimens are in the botanical museum at cambridge.) letter . j.d. hooker to charles darwin. ( / . the following is part of letter , volume i. it refers to reviews of "fertilisation of orchids" in the "gardeners' chronicle," , pages , , , and in the "natural history review," october, , page .) november th, . dear old darwin, i assure you it was not my fault! i worried lindley over and over again to notice your orchid book in the "chronicle" by the very broadest hints man could give. ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page .) at last he said, "really i cannot, you must do it for me," and so i did--volontiers. lindley felt that he ought to have done it himself, and my main effort was to write it "a la lindley," and in this alone i have succeeded--that people all think it is exactly lindley's style!!! which diverts me vastly. the fact is, between ourselves, i fear that poor l. is breaking up--he said that he could not fix his mind on your book. he works himself beyond his mental or physical powers. and now, my dear darwin, i may as well make a clean breast of it, and tell you that i wrote the "nat. hist. review" notice too--to me a very difficult task, and one i fancied i failed in, comparatively. of this you are no judge, and can be none; you told me to tell oliver it pleased you, and so i am content and happy. letter . to w.e. darwin. down, th [about - ?] i have been looking at the fertilisation of wheat, and i think possibly you might find something curious. i observed in almost every one of the pollen-grains, which had become empty and adhered to (i suppose the viscid) branching hairs of the stigma, that the pollen-tube was always (?) emitted on opposite side of grain to that in contact with the branch of the stigma. this seems very odd. the branches of the stigma are very thin, formed apparently of three rows of cells of hardly greater diameter than pollen-tube. i am astonished that the tubes should be able to penetrate the walls. the specimens examined (not carefully by me) had pollen only during few hours on stigma; and the mere suspicion has crossed me that the pollen-tubes crawl down these branches to the base and then penetrate the stigmatic tissue. ( / . see strasburger's "neue untersuchungen uber den befruchtungsvorgang bei den phanerogamen," . in alopecurus pratensis he describes the pollen as adhering to the end of a projection from the stigma where it germinates; the tube crawls along or spirally round this projection until it reaches the angle where the stigmatic branch is given off; here it makes an entrance and travels in the middle lamella between two cells.) the paleae open for a short period for stigma to be dusted, and then close again, and such travelling down would take place under protection. high powers and good adjustment are necessary. ears expel anthers when kept in water in room; but the paleae apparently do not open and expose stigma; but the stigma could easily be artificially impregnated. if i were you i would keep memoranda of points worth attending to. .x.ii. melastomaceae, - . ( / . the following series of letters ( - ) refers to the melastomaceae and certain other flowers of analogous form. in darwin attempted to explain the existence of two very different sets of stamens in these plants as a case of dimorphism, somewhat analogous to the state of things in primula. in this view he was probably wrong, but this does not diminish the interest of the crossing experiments described in the letters. the persistence of his interest in this part of the subject is shown in the following passage from his preface to the english translation of h. muller's "befruchtung der blumen"; the passage is dated february, , but was not published until the following year. "there exist also some few plants the flowers of which include two sets of stamens, differing in the shape of the anthers and in the colour of the pollen; and at present no one knows whether this difference has any functional significance, and this is a point which ought to be determined." it is not obvious why he spoke of the problem as if no light had been thrown on it, since in fritz muller had privately (see letter ) offered an explanation which darwin was strongly inclined to accept. ( / . h. muller published ("nature," august th, ) a letter from his brother fritz giving the theory in question for heeria. todd ("american naturalist," april ), described a similar state of things in solanum rostratum and in cassia: and h.o. forbes ("nature," august , page ) has done the same for melastoma. in rhexia virginica mr. w.h. leggett ("bulletin torrey bot. club, new york," viii., , page ) describes the curious structure of the anther, which consists of two inflated portions and a tubular part connecting the two. by pressing with a blunt instrument on one of the ends, the pollen is forced out in a jet through a fine pore in the other inflated end. mr. leggett has seen bees treading on the anthers, but could not get near enough to see the pollen expelled. in the same journal, volume ix., page , mr. bailey describes how in heterocentron roseum, "upon pressing the bellows-like anther with a blunt pencil, the pollen was ejected to a full inch in distance." on lagerstroemia as comparable with the melastomads see letter .) fritz muller's theory with regard to the melastomads and a number of analogous cases in other genera are discussed in h. muller's article in "kosmos" ( / . "kosmos," xiii., , page .), where the literature is given. f. muller's theory is that in heeria the yellow anthers serve merely as a means of attracting pollen-collecting bees, while the longer stamens with purple or crimson anthers supply pollen for fertilising purposes. if muller is right the pollen from the yellow anthers would not normally reach the stigma. the increased vigour observed in the seedlings from the yellow anthers would seem to resemble the good effect of a cross between different individuals of the same species as worked out in "cross and self fertilisation," for it is difficult to believe that the pollen of the purple anthers has become, by adaptation, less effective than that of the yellow anthers. in the letters here given there is some contradiction between the statements as to the position of the two sets of stamens in relation to the sepals. according to eichler ("bluthendiagramme, ii., page ) the longer stamens may be either epipetalous or episepalous in this family. the work on the melastomads is of such intrinsic importance that we have thought it right to give the correspondence in considerable detail; we have done so in spite of the fact that darwin arrived at no definite conclusion, and in spite of an element of confusion and unsatisfactoriness in the series of letters. this applies also to letter , written after darwin had learned fritz muller's theory, which is obscured by some errors or slips of the pen.) letter . to g. bentham. down, february rd [ ?] as you so kindly helped me before on dimorphism, will you forgive me begging for a little further information, if in your power to give it? the case is that of the melastomads with eight stamens, on which i have been experimenting. i am perplexed by opposed statements: lindley says the stamens which face the petals are sterile; wallich says in oxyspora paniculata that the stamens which face the sepals are destitute of pollen; i find plenty of apparently good pollen in both sets of stamens in heterocentron [heeria], monochoetum, and centradenia. can you throw any light on this? but there is another point on which i am more anxious for information. please look at the enclosed miserable diagram. i find that the pollen of the yellow petal-facing stamens produce more than twice as much seed as the pollen of the purple sepal-facing stamens. this is exactly opposed to lindley's statement--viz., that the petal-facing stamens are sterile. but i cannot at present believe that the case has any relation to abortion; it is hardly possible to believe that the longer and very curious stamens, which face the sepals in this heterocentron, are tending to be rudimentary, though their pollen applied to their own flowers produces so much less seed. it is conformable with what we see in primula that the [purple] sepal-facing anthers, which in the plant seen by me stood quite close on each side of the stigma, should have been rendered less fitted to fertilise the stigma than the stamens on the opposite side of the flower. hence the suspicion has crossed me that if many plants of the heterocentron roseum were examined, half would be found with the pistil nearly upright, instead of being rectangularly bent down, as shown in the diagram ( / . according to willis, "flowering plants and ferns," , volume ii., page , the style in monochoetum, "at first bent downwards, moves slowly up till horizontal."); or, if the position of pistil is fixed, that in half the plants the petal-facing stamens would bend down, and in the other half of the plants the sepal-facing stamens would bend down as in the diagram. i suspect the former case, as in centradenia i find the pistil nearly straight. can you tell me? ( / . no reply by mr. bentham to this or the following queries has been found.) can the name heterocentron have any reference to such diversity? would it be asking too great a favour to ask you to look at dried specimens of heterocentron roseum (which would be best), or of monochoetum, or any eight-stamened melastomad, of which you have specimens from several localities (as this would ensure specimens having been taken from distinct plants), and observe whether the pistil bends differently or stamens differently in different plants? you will at once see that, if such were the fact, it would be a new form of dimorphism, and would open up a large field of inquiry with respect to the potency of the pollen in all plants which have two sets of stamens--viz., longer and shorter. can you forgive me for troubling you at such unreasonable length? but it is such waste of time to experiment without some guiding light. i do not know whether you have attended particularly to melastoma; if you have not, perhaps hooker or oliver may have done so. i should be very grateful for any information, as it will guide future experiments. p.s.--do you happen to know, when there are only four stamens, whether it is the petal or sepal-facers which are preserved? and whether in the four-stamened forms the pistil is rectangularly bent or is straight? letter . to asa gray. down, february th [ ?]. i have been trying a few experiments on melastomads; and they seem to indicate that the pollen of the two curious sets of anthers (i.e. the petal-facers and the sepal-facers) have very different powers; and it does not seem that the difference is connected with any tendency to abortion in the one set. now i think i can understand the structure of the flower and means of fertilisation, if there be two forms,--one with the pistil bent rectangularly out of the flower, and the other with it nearly straight. our hot-house and green-house plants have probably all descended by cuttings from a single plant of each species; so i can make out nothing from them. i applied in vain to bentham and hooker; but oliver picked out some sentences from naudin, which seem to indicate differences in the position of the pistil. i see that rhexia grows in massachusetts; and i suppose has two different sets of stamens. now, if in your power, would you observe the position of the pistil in different plants, in lately opened flowers of the same age? (i specify this because in monochaetum i find great changes of position in the pistils and stamens, as flower gets old). supposing that my prophecy should turn out right, please observe whether in both forms the passage into the flower is not [on] the upper side of the pistil, owing to the basal part of the pistil lying close to the ring of filaments on the under side of the flower. also i should like to know the colour of the two sets of anthers. this would take you only a few minutes, and is the only way i see that i can find out whether these plants are dimorphic in this peculiar way--i.e., only in the position of the pistil ( / . in exacum and in saintpaulia the flowers are dimorphic in this sense: the style projects to either the right or the left side of the corolla, from which it follows that a right-handed flower would fertilise a left-handed one, and vice versa. see willis, "flowering plants and ferns," , volume i., page .) and in its relation to the two kinds of pollen. i am anxious about this, because if it should prove so, it will show that all plants with longer and shorter or otherwise different anthers will have to be examined for dimorphism. letter . to asa gray. march th [ ]. ...i wrote some little time ago about rhexia; since then i have been carefully watching and experimenting on another genus, monochaetum; and i find that the pistil is first bent rectangularly (as in the sketch sent), and then in a few days becomes straight: the stamens also move. if there be not two forms of rhexia, will you compare the position of the part in young and old flowers? i have a suspicion (perhaps it will be proved wrong when the seed-capsules are ripe) that one set of anthers are adapted to the pistil in early state, and the other set for it in its later state. if bees visit the rhexia, for heaven's sake watch exactly how the anther and stigma strike them, both in old and young flowers, and give me a sketch. again i say, do not hate me. letter . to j.d. hooker. leith hill place, dorking, thursday, th [may ]. you stated at the linnean society that different sets of seedling cinchona ( / . cinchona is apparently heterostyled: see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page .) grew at very different rate, and from my primula case you attributed it probably to two sorts of pollen. i confess i thought you rash, but i now believe you were quite right. i find the yellow and crimson anthers of the same flower in the melastomatous heterocentron roseum have different powers; the yellow producing on the same plant thrice as many seeds as the crimson anthers. i got my neighbour's most skilful gardener to sow both kinds of seeds, and yesterday he came to me and said it is a most extraordinary thing that though both lots have been treated exactly alike, one lot all remain dwarfs and the other lot are all rising high up. the dwarfs were produced by the pollen of the crimson anthers. in monochaetum ensiferum the facts are more complex and still more strange; as the age and position of the pistils comes into play, in relation to the two kinds of pollen. these facts seem to me so curious that i do not scruple to ask you to see whether you can lend me any melastomad just before flowering, with a not very small flower, and which will endure for a short time a greenhouse or sitting-room; when fertilised and watered i could send it to mr. turnbull's to a cool stove to mature seed. i fully believe the case is worth investigation. p.s.--you will not have time at present to read my orchid book; i never before felt half so doubtful about anything which i published. when you read it, do not fear "punishing" me if i deserve it. adios. i am come here to rest, which i much want. whenever you have occasion to write, pray tell me whether you have rhododendron boothii from bhootan, with a smallish yellow flower, and pistil bent the wrong way; if so, i would ask oliver to look for nectary, for it is an abominable error of nature that must be corrected. i could hardly believe my eyes when i saw the pistil. letter . to asa gray. january th [ ]. i have been at those confounded melastomads again; throwing good money (i.e. time) after bad. do you remember telling me you could see no nectar in your rhexia? well, i can find none in monochaetum, and bates tells me that the flowers are in the most marked manner neglected by bees and lepidoptera in amazonia. now the curious projections or horns to the stamens of monochaetum are full of fluid, and the suspicion occurs to me that diptera or small hymenoptera may puncture these horns like they puncture (proved since my orchid book was published) the dry nectaries of true orchis. i forget whether rhexia is common; but i very much wish you would next summer watch on a warm day a group of flowers, and see whether they are visited by small insects, and what they do. letter . to i.a. henry. down, january th [ ]. ...you must kindly permit me to mention any point on which i want information. if you are so inclined, i am curious to know from systematic experiments whether mr. d. beaton's statement that the pollen of two shortest anthers of scarlet pelargonium produce dwarf plants ( / . see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page , for a brief account of darwin's experiments on this genus. also loc. cit., page (note), for a suggested experiment.), in comparison with plants produced from the same mother-plant by the pollen of longer stamens from the same flower. it would aid me much in some laborious experiments on melastomads. i confess i feel a little doubtful; at least, i feel pretty nearly sure that i know the meaning of short stamens in most plants. this summer (for another object) i crossed queen of scarlet pelargonium with pollen of long and short stamens of multiflora alba, and it so turns out that plants from short stamens are the tallest; but i believe this to have been mere chance. my few crosses in pelargonium were made to get seed from the central peloric or regular flower (i have got one from peloric flower by pollen of peloric), and this leads me to suggest that it would be very interesting to test fertility of peloric flowers in three ways,--own peloric pollen on peloric stigma, common pollen on peloric stigma, peloric pollen on common stigma of same species. my object is to discover whether with change of structure of flower there is any change in fertility of pollen or of female organs. this might also be tested by trying peloric and common pollen on stigma of a distinct species, and conversely. i believe there is a peloric and common variety of tropaeolum, and a peloric or upright and common variation of some species of gloxinia, and the medial peloric flowers of pelargonium, and probably others unknown to me. letter . to i.a. henry. hartfield, may nd [ ]. in scarlet dwarf pelargonium, you will find occasionally an additional and abnormal stamen on opposite and lower side of flower. now the pollen of this one occasional short stamen, i think, very likely would produce dwarf plants. if you experiment on pelargonium i would suggest your looking out for this single stamen. i observed fluctuations in length of pistil in phloxes, but thought it was mere variability. if you could raise a bed of seedling phloxes of any species except p. drummondii, it would be highly desirable to see if two forms are presented, and i should be very grateful for information and flowers for inspection. i cannot remember, but i know that i had some reason to look after phloxes. ( / . see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page , where the conjecture is hazarded that phlox subulata shows traces of a former heterostyled condition.) i do not know whether you have used microscopes much yet. it adds immensely to interest of all such work as ours, and is indeed indispensable for much work. experience, however, has fully convinced me that the use of the compound without the simple microscope is absolutely injurious to progress of n[atural] history (excepting, of course, with infusoria). i have, as yet, found no exception to the rule, that when a man has told me he works with the compound alone his work is valueless. letter . to asa gray. march th [ ]. i wrote to him [dr. h. cruger, of trinidad] to ask him to observe what the insects did in the flowers of melastomaceae: he says not proper season yet, but that on one species a small bee seemed busy about the horn-like appendages to the anthers. it will be too good luck if my study of the flowers in the greenhouse has led me to right interpretation of these appendages. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th [ ]. if you had come here on sunday i should have asked you whether you could give me seed or seedlings of any melastomad which would flower soon to experiment on! i wrote also to j. scott to ask if he could give me seed. several years ago i raised a lot of seedlings of a melastomad greenhouse bush (monochaetus or some such name) ( / . monochaetum.) from stigmas fertilised separately by the two kinds of pollen, and the seedlings differed remarkably in size, and whilst young, in appearance; and i never knew what to think of the case (so you must not use it), and have always wished to try again, but they are troublesome beasts to fertilise. on the other hand i could detect no difference in the product from the two coloured anthers of clarkia. ( / . clarkia has eight stamens divided into two groups which differ in the colour of the anthers.) if you want to know further particulars of my experiments on monochaetum (?) and clarkia, i will hunt for my notes. you ask about difference in pollen in the same species. all dimorphic and trimorphic plants present such difference in function and in size. lythrum and the trimorphic oxalis are the most wonderful cases. the pollen of the closed imperfect cleistogamic flowers differ in the transparency of the integument, and i think in size. the latter point i could ascertain from my notes. the pollen or female organs must differ in almost every individual in some manner; otherwise the pollen of varieties and even distinct individuals of same varieties would not be so prepotent over the individual plant's own pollen. here follows a case of individual differences in function of pollen or ovules or both. some few individuals of reseda odorata and r. lutea cannot be fertilised, or only very rarely, by pollen of the same plant, but can by pollen of any other individual. i chanced to have two plants of r. odorata in this state; so i crossed them and raised five seedlings, all of which were self sterile and all perfectly fertile with pollen of any other individual mignonette. so i made a self sterile race! i do not know whether these are the kinds of facts which you require. think whether you can help me to seed or better seedlings (not cuttings) of any melastomad. letter . to f. muller. down, march th, . i have received the seeds and your most interesting letter of february th. the seeds shall be sown, and i shall like to see the plants sleeping; but i doubt whether i shall make any more detailed observations on this subject, as, now that i feel very old, i require the stimulus of some novelty to make me work. this stimulus you have amply given me in your remarkable view of the meaning of the two-coloured stamens in many flowers. i was so much struck with this fact with lythrum, that i began experimenting on some melastomaceae, which have two sets of extremely differently coloured anthers. after reading your letter i turned to my notes (made years ago!) to see whether they would support or contradict your suggestion. i cannot tell yet, but i have come across one very remarkable result, that seedlings from the crimson anthers were not / ths of the size of seedlings from the yellow anthers of the same flowers. fewer good seeds were produced by the crimson pollen. i concluded that the shorter stamens were aborting, and that the pollen was not good. ( / . "shorter stamens" seems to be a slip of the pen for "longer,"--unless the observations were made on some genus in which the structure is unusual.) the mature pollen is incoherent, and must be [word illegible] against the visiting insect's body. i remembered this, and i find it said in my early notes that bees would never visit the flowers for pollen. this made me afterwards write to the late dr. cruger in the west indies, and he observed for me the flowers, and saw bees pressing the anthers with their mandibles from the base upwards, and this forced a worm-like thread of pollen from the terminal pore, and this pollen the bees collected with their hind legs. so that the melastomads are not opposed to your views. i am now working on the habits of worms, and it tires me much to change my subject; so i will lay on one side your letter and my notes, until i have a week's leisure, and will then see whether my facts bear on your views. i will then send a letter to "nature" or to the linn. soc., with the extract of your letter (and this ought to appear in any case), with my own observations, if they appear worth publishing. the subject had gone out of my mind, but i now remember thinking that the imperfect action of the crimson stamens might throw light on hybridism. if this pollen is developed, according to your view, for the sake of attracting insects, it might act imperfectly, as well as if the stamens were becoming rudimentary. ( / . as far as it is possible to understand the earlier letters it seems that the pollen of the shorter stamens, which are adapted for attracting insects, is the most effective.) i do not know whether i have made myself intelligible. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, march st [ ]. i have had a letter from fritz muller suggesting a novel and very curious explanation of certain plants producing two sets of anthers of different colour. this has set me on fire to renew the laborious experiments which i made on this subject, now years ago. now, will you be so kind as to turn in your much worked and much holding head, whether you can think of any plants, especially annuals, producing such sets of anthers. i believe that this is the case with clarkia elegans, and i have just written to thompson for seeds. the lythraceae must be excluded, as these are heterostyled. i have got seeds from dr. king of some melastomaceae, and will write to veitch to see if i can get the melastomaceous genera monochaetum and heterocentron or some such name, on which i before experimented. now, if you can aid me, i know that you will; but if you cannot, do not write and trouble yourself. .x.iii. correspondence with john scott, - . "if he had leisure he would make a wonderful observer, to my judgment; i have come across no one like him."--letter to j.d. hooker, may th [ ]. ( / . the following group of letters to john scott, of whom some account is given elsewhere (volume i., letters and , and index.) deal chiefly with experimental work in the fertilisation of flowers. in addition to their scientific importance, several of the letters are of special interest as illustrating the encouragement and friendly assistance which darwin gave to his correspondent.) letter . john scott to charles darwin. edinburgh botanic gardens, november th, . i take the liberty of addressing you for the purpose of directing your attention to an error in one of your ingenious explanations of the structural adaptations of the orchidaceae in your late work. this occurs in the genus acropera, two species of which you assume to be unisexual, and so far as known represented by male individuals only. theoretically you have no doubt assigned good grounds for this view; nevertheless, experimental observations that i am now making have already convinced me of its fallacy. and i thus hurriedly, and as you may think prematurely, direct your attention to it, before i have seen the final result of my own experiment, that you might have the longer time for reconsidering the structure of this genus for another edition of your interesting book, if indeed it be not already called for. i am furthermore induced to communicate the results of my yet imperfect experiments in the belief that the actuating principle of your late work is the elicitation of truth, and that you will gladly avail yourself of this even at the sacrifice of much ingenious theoretical argumentation. since i have had an opportunity of perusing your work on orchid fertilisation, my attention has been particularly directed to the curiously constructed floral organs of acropera. i unfortunately have as yet had only a few flowers for experimental enquiry, otherwise my remarks might have been clearer and more satisfactory. such as they are, however, i respectfully lay [them] before you, with a full assurance of their veracity, and i sincerely trust that as such you will receive them. your observations seem to have been chiefly directed to the a. luteola, mine to the a. loddigesii, which, however, as you remark, is in a very similar constructural condition with the former; having the same narrow stigmatic chamber, abnormally developed placenta, etc. in regard to the former point--contraction of stigmatic chamber--i may remark that it does not appear to be absolutely necessary that the pollen-masses penetrate this chamber for effecting fecundation. thus a raceme was produced upon a plant of a. loddigesii in the botanic gardens here lately; upon this i left only six flowers. these i attempted to fertilise, but with two only of the six have i been successful: i succeeded in forcing a single pollen-mass into the stigmatic chamber of one of the latter, but i failed to do this on the other; however, by inserting a portion of a pedicel with a pollinium attached, i caused the latter to adhere, with a gentle press, to the mouth of the stigmatic chamber. both of these, as i have already remarked, are nevertheless fertilised; one of them i have cut off for examination, and its condition i will presently describe; the other is still upon the plant, and promises fair to attain maturity. in regard to the other four flowers, i may remark that though similarly fertilised--part having pollinia inserted, others merely attached--they all withered and dropped off without the least swelling of the ovary. can it be, then, that this is really an [andro-monoecious] species?--part of the flowers male, others truly hermaphrodite. in making longitudinal sections of the fertilised ovary before mentioned, i found the basal portion entirely destitute of ovules, their place being substituted by transparent cellular ramification of the placentae. as i traced the placentae upwards, the ovules appeared, becoming gradually more abundant towards its apex. a transverse section near the apex of the ovary, however, still exhibited a more than ordinary placental development--i.e. [congenitally?] considered--each end giving off two branches, which meet each other in the centre of the ovary, the ovules being irregularly and sparingly disposed upon their surfaces. in regard to the mere question of fertilisation, then, i am perfectly satisfied, but there are other points which require further elucidation. among these i may particularly refer to the contracted stigmatic chamber, and the slight viscidity of its disk. the latter, however, may be a consequence of uncongenial conditions--as you do not mention particularly its examination by any author in its natural habitat. if such be the case, the contracted stigmatic chamber will offer no real difficulty, should the viscous exudations be only sufficient to render the mouth adhesive. for, as i have already shown, the pollen-tubes may be emitted in this condition, and effect fecundation without being in actual contact with the stigmatic surface, as occurs pretty regularly in the fertilisation of the stapelias, for example. but, indeed, your own discovery of the independent germinative capabilities of the pollen-grains of certain orchidaceae is sufficiently illustrative of this. i may also refer to the peculiar abnormal condition that many at least of the ovaries present in a comparative examination of the placentae, and of which i beg to suggest the following explanation, though it is as yet founded on limited observations. in examining certain young ovaries of a. loddigesii, i found some of them filled with the transparent membranous fringes of more or less distinctly cellular matter, which, from your description of the ovaries of luteola, appears to differ simply in the greater development in the former species. again, in others i found small mammillary bodies, which appeared to be true ovules, though i could not perfectly satisfy myself as to the existence of the micropyle or nucleus. i unfortunately neglected to apply any chemical test. the fact, however, that in certain of the examined ovaries few or none of the latter bodies occurred--the placenta alone being developed in an irregular membranous form, taken in conjunction with the results of my experiments--before alluded to--on their fertilisation, leads me to infer that two sexual conditions are presented by the flowers of this plant. in short, that many of the ovaries are now normally abortive, though nature occasionally makes futile efforts for their perfect development, in the production of ovuloid bodies; these then i regard as the male flowers. the others that are still capable of fertilisation, and likewise possessing male organs, are hermaphrodite, and must, i think, from the results of your comparative examinations, present a somewhat different condition; as it can scarcely be supposed that ovules in the condition you describe could ever be fertilised. this is at least the most plausible explanation i can offer for the different results in my experiments on the fertilisation of apparently similar morphologically constructed flowers; others may, however, occur to you. here there is not, as in the catasetum, any external change visible in the respective unisexual and bisexual flowers. and yet it would appear from your researches that the ovules of acropera are in a more highly atrophied condition than occurs in catasetum, though, as you likewise remark, m. neumann has never succeeded in fertilising c. tridentatum. if there be not, then, an arrangement of the reproductive structures, such as i have indicated, how can the different results in m. neumann's experiments and mine be accounted for? however, as you have examined many flowers of both a. luteola and loddigesii, such a difference in the ovulary or placental structures could scarcely have escaped your observation. but, be this as it may, the--to me at least--demonstrated fact still remains, that certain flowers of a. loddigesii are capable of fertilisation, and that, though there are good grounds for supposing that important physiological changes are going on in the sexual phenomena of this species, there is no evidence whatever for supposing that external morphological changes have so masked certain individuals as to prevent their recognition. i would now, sir, in conclusion beg you to excuse me for this infringement upon your valuable time, as i have been induced to write you in the belief that you have had negative results from other experimenters, before you ventured to propose your theoretical explanation, and consequently that you have been unknowingly led into error. i will continue, as opportunities present themselves, to examine the many peculiarities you have pointed out in this as well as others of the orchid family; and at present i am looking forward with anxiety for the maturation of the ovary of a. loddigesii, which will bear testimony to the veracity of the remarks i have ventured to lay before you. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, th [november ]. strange to say, i have only one little bother for you to-day, and that is to let me know about what month flowers appear in acropera loddigesii and luteola; for i want extremely to beg a few more flowers, and if i knew the time i would keep a memorandum to remind you. why i want these flowers is (and i am much alarmed) that mr. j. scott, of bot. garden of edinburgh (do you know anything of him?) has written me a very long and clever letter, in which he confirms most of my observations; but tells me that with much difficulty he managed to get pollen into orifice, or as far as mouth of orifice, of six flowers of a. loddigesii (the ovarium of which i did not examine), and two pods set; one he gathered, and saw a very few ovules, as he thinks, on the large and mostly rudimentary placenta. i shall be most curious to hear whether the other pod produces a good lot of seed. he says he regrets that he did not test the ovules with chemical agents: does he mean tincture of iodine? he suggests that in a state of nature the viscid matter may come to the very surface of stigmatic chamber, and so pollen-masses need not be inserted. this is possible, but i should think improbable. altogether the case is very odd, and i am very uneasy, for i cannot hope that a. loddigesii is hermaphrodite and a. luteola the male of the same species. whenever i can get acropera would be a very good time for me to look at vanda in spirits, which you so kindly preserved for me. letter . to j. scott. ( / . the following is darwin's reply to the above letter from scott. in the first edition of "fertilisation of orchids" (page ) he assumed that the sexes in acropera, as in catasetum, were separate. in the second edition (page ) he writes: "i was, however, soon convinced of my error by mr. scott, who succeeded in artificially fertilising the flowers with their own pollen. a remarkable discovery by hildebrand ( / . "bot. zeitung," and .), namely, that in many orchids the ovules are not developed unless the stigma is penetrated by the pollen-tubes...explains the state of the ovarium in acropera, as observed by me." in regard to this subject see letter .) down, november th, . i thank you most sincerely for your kindness in writing to me, and for [your] very interesting letter. your fact has surprised me greatly, and has alarmed me not a little, for if i am in error about acropera i may be in error about catasetum. yet when i call to mind the state of the placentae in a. luteola, i am astonished that they should produce ovules. you will see in my book that i state that i did not look at the ovarium of a. loddigesii. would you have the kindness to send me word which end of the ovarium is meant by apex (that nearest the flower?), for i must try and get this species from kew and look at its ovarium. i shall be extremely curious to hear whether the fruit, which is now maturing, produces a large number of good and plump seed; perhaps you may have seen the ripe capsules of other vandeae, and may be able to form some conjecture what it ought to produce. in the young, unfertilised ovaria of many vandeae there seemed an infinitude of ovules. in desperation it occurs to me as just possible, as almost everything in nature goes by gradation, that a properly male flower might occasionally produce a few seeds, in the same manner as female plants sometimes produce a little pollen. all your remarks seem to me excellent and very interesting, and i again thank you for your kindness in writing to me. i am pleased to observe that my description of the structure of acropera seems to agree pretty well with what you have observed. does it not strike you as very difficult to understand how insects remove the pollinia and carry them to the stigmas? your suggestion that the mouth of the stigmatic cavity may become charged with viscid matter and thus secure the pollinia, and that the pollen-tubes may then protrude, seems very ingenious and new to me; but it would be very anomalous in orchids, i.e. as far as i have seen. no doubt, however, though i tried my best, i shall be proved wrong in many points. botany is a new subject to me. with respect to the protrusion of pollen-tubes, you might like to hear (if you do not already know the fact) that, as i saw this summer, in the little imperfect flowers of viola and oxalis, which never open, the pollen-tubes always come out of the pollen-grain, whilst still in the anthers, and direct themselves in a beautiful manner to the stigma seated at some little distance. i hope that you will continue your very interesting observations. letter . to j. scott. down, november th [ ]. i am much obliged for your letter, which is full of interesting matter. i shall be very glad to look at the capsule of the acropera when ripe, and pray present my thanks to mr. macnab. ( / . see letter (lindley, december th, ). also "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page , for an account of the observations on acropera which were corrected by scott.) i should like to keep it till i could get a capsule of some other member of the vandeae for comparison, but ultimately all the seeds shall be returned, in case you would like to write any notice on the subject. it was, as i said ( / . letter .), only "in desperation" that i suggested that the flower might be a male and occasionally capable of producing a few seeds. i had forgotten gartner's remark; in fact, i know only odds and ends of botany, and you know far more. one point makes the above view more probable in acropera than in other cases, viz. the presence of rudimentary placentae or testae, for i cannot hear that these have been observed in the male plants. they do not occur in male lychnis dioica, but next spring i will look to male holly flowers. i fully admit the difficulty of similarity of stigmatic chamber in the two acroperas. as far as i remember, the blunt end of pollen-mass would not easily even stick in the orifice of the chamber. your view may be correct about abundance of viscid matter, but seems rather improbable. your facts about female flowers occurring where males alone ought to occur is new to me; if i do not hear that you object, i will quote the zea case on your authority in what i am now writing on the varieties of the maize. ( / . see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page : "mr. scott has lately observed the rarer case of female flowers on a true male panicle, and likewise hermaphrodite flowers." scott's paper on the subject is in "trans. bot. soc. edinburgh," volume viii. see letter , volume i.) i am glad to hear that you are now working on the most curious subject of parthenogenesis. i formerly fancied that i observed female lychnis dioica seeded without pollen. i send by this post a paper on primula, which may interest you. ( / . "linn. soc. journal," .) i am working on the subject, and if you should ever observe any analogous case i should be glad to hear. i have added another very clever pamphlet by prof. asa gray. have you a copy of my orchis book? if you have not, and would like one, i should be pleased to send one. i plainly see that you have the true spirit of an experimentalist and good observer. therefore, i ask whether you have ever made any trials on relative fertility of varieties of plants (like those i quote from gartner on the varieties of verbascum). i much want information on this head, and on those marvellous cases (as some lobelias and crinum passiflora) in which a plant can be more easily fertilised by the pollen of another species than by its own good pollen. i am compelled to write in haste. with many thanks for your kindness. letter . to j. scott. down, th [ ?]. what a magnificent capsule, and good heavens, what a number of seeds! i never before opened pods of larger orchids. it did not signify a few seed being lost, as it would be hopeless to estimate number in comparison with other species. if you sow any, had you not better sow a good many? so i enclose small packet. i have looked at the seeds; i never saw in the british orchids nearly so many empty testae; but this goes for nothing, as unnatural conditions would account for it. i suspect, however, from the variable size and transparency, that a good many of the seeds when dry (and i have put the capsule on my chimney-piece) will shrivel up. so i will wait a month or two till i get the capsule of some large vandeae for comparison. it is more likely that i have made some dreadful blunder about acropera than that it should be male yet not a perfect male. may there be some sexual relation between a. loddigesii and luteola; they seem very close? i should very much like to examine the capsule of the unimpregnated flower of a. loddigesii. i have got both species from kew, but whether we shall have skill to flower them i know not. one conjectures that it is imperfect male; i still should incline to think it would produce by seed both sexes. but you are right about primula (and a very acute thought it was): the long-styled p. sinensis, homomorphically fertilised with own-form pollen, has produced during two successive homomorphic generations only long-styled plants. ( / . in "forms of flowers," edition ii., page , a summary of the transmission of forms in the "homomorphic" unions of p. sinensis is given. darwin afterwards used "illegitimate" for homomorphic, and "legitimate" for "heteromorphic" ("forms of flowers," edition i., page ).) the short-styled the same, i.e. produced short-styled for two generations with the exception of a single plant. i cannot say about cowslips yet. i should like to hear your case of the primula: is it certainly propagated by seed? letter . to j. scott. down, december rd, [ ?]. what a capital observer you are! and how well you have worked the primulas. all your facts are new to me. it is likely that i overrate the interest of the subject; but it seems to me that you ought to publish a paper on the subject. it would, however, greatly add to the value if you were to cover up any of the forms having pistil and anther of the same height, and prove that they were fully self-fertile. the occurrence of dimorphic and non-dimorphic species in the same genus is quite the same as i find in linum. ( / . darwin finished his paper on linum in december , and it was published in the "linn. soc. journal" in .) have any of the forms of primula, which are non-dimorphic, been propagated for some little time by seed in garden? i suppose not. i ask because i find in p. sinensis a third rather fluctuating form, apparently due to culture, with stigma and anthers of same height. i have been working successive generations homomorphically of this primula, and think i am getting curious results; i shall probably publish next autumn; and if you do not (but i hope you will) publish yourself previously, i should be glad to quote in abstract some of your facts. but i repeat that i hope you will yourself publish. hottonia is dimorphic, with pollen of very different sizes in the two forms. i think you are mistaken about siphocampylus, but i feel rather doubtful in saying this to so good an observer. in lobelia the closed pistil grows rapidly, and pushes out the pollen and then the stigma expands, and the flower in function is monoecious; from appearance i believe this is the case with your plant. i hope it is so, for this plant can hardly require a cross, being in function monoecious; so that dimorphism in such a case would be a heavy blow to understanding its nature or good in all other cases. i see few periodicals: when have you published on clivia? i suppose that you did not actually count the seeds in the hybrids in comparison with those of the parent-forms; but this is almost necessary after gartner's observations. i very much hope you will make a good series of comparative trials on the same plant of tacsonia. ( / . see scott in "linn. soc. journal," viii.) i have raised - seedlings from cowslips, artificially fertilised with care; and they presented not a hair's-breadth approach to oxlips. i have now seed in pots of cowslip fertilised by pollen of primrose, and i hope they will grow; i have also got fine seedlings from seed of wild oxlips; so i hope to make out the case. you speak of difficulties on natural selection: there are indeed plenty; if ever you have spare time (which is not likely, as i am sure you must be a hard worker) i should be very glad to hear difficulties from one who has observed so much as you have. the majority of criticisms on the "origin" are, in my opinion, not worth the paper they are printed on. sir c. lyell is coming out with what, i expect, will prove really good remarks. ( / . lyell's "antiquity of man" was published in the spring of . in the "life and letters," volume iii., pages , , darwin's correspondence shows his deep disappointment at what he thought lyell's half-heartedness in regard to evolution. see letter , volume i.) pray do not think me intrusive; but if you would like to have any book i have published, such as my "journal of researches" or the "origin," i should esteem it a compliment to be allowed to send it. will you permit me to suggest one experiment, which i should much like to see tried, and which i now wish the more from an extraordinary observation by asa gray on gymnadenia tridentata (in number just out of silliman's n. american journal) ( / . in gymnadenia tridentata, according to asa gray, the anther opens in the bud, and the pollen being somewhat coherent falls on the stigma and on the rostellum which latter is penetrated by the pollen-tubes. "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page . asa gray's papers are in "american journal of science," volume xxxiv., , and xxxvi., .); namely, to split the labellum of a cattleya, or of some allied orchis, remove caudicle from pollen-mass (so that no loose grains are about) and put it carefully into the large tongue-like rostellum, and see if pollen-tubes will penetrate, or better, see if capsule will swell. similar pollen-masses ought to be put on true stigmas of two or three other flowers of same plants for comparison. it is to discover whether rostellum yet retains some of its primordial function of being penetrated by pollen-tubes. you will be sorry that you ever entered into correspondence with me. but do not answer till at leisure, and as briefly as you like. my handwriting, i know, is dreadfully bad. excuse this scribbling paper, as i can write faster on it, and i have a rather large correspondence to keep up. letter . to j. scott. down, january st, . i thank you for your very interesting letter; i must answer as briefly as i can, for i have a heap of other letters to answer. i strongly advise you to follow up and publish your observations on the pollen-tubes of orchids; they promise to be very interesting. if you could prove what i only conjectured (from state of utriculi in rostellum and in stigma of catasetum and acropera) that the utriculi somehow induce, or are correlated with, penetration of pollen-tubes you will make an important physiological discovery. i will mention, as worth your attention (and what i have anxiously wished to observe, if time had permitted, and still hope to do)--viz., the state of tissues or cells of stigma in an utterly sterile hybrid, in comparison with the same in fertile parent species; to test these cells, immerse stigmas for hours in spirits of wine. i should expect in hybrids that the cells would not show coagulated contents. it would be an interesting discovery to show difference in female organs of hybrids and pure species. anyhow, it is worth trial, and i recommend you to make it, and publish if you do. the pollen-tubes directing themselves to stigma is also very curious, though not quite so new, but well worth investigation when you get cattleya, etc., in flower. i say not so new, for remember small flowers of viola and oxalis; or better, see bibliography in "natural history review," no. viii., page (october, ) for quotation from m. baillon on pollen-tubes finding way from anthers to stigma in helianthemum. i should doubt gum getting solid from [i.e. because of] continued secretion. why not sprinkle fresh plaster of paris and make impenetrable crust? ( / . the suggestion that the stigma should be covered with a crust of plaster of paris, pierced by a hole to allow the pollen-tubes to enter, bears a resemblance to miyoshi's experiments with germinating pollen and fungal spores. see "pringsheim's jahrbucher," ; "flora," .) you might modify experiment by making little hole in one lower corner, and see if tubes find it out. see in my future paper on linum pollen and stigma recognising each other. if you will tell me that pollen smells the stigma i will try and believe you; but i will not believe the frenchman (i forget who) who says that stigma of vanilla actually attracts mechanically, by some unknown force, the solid pollen-masses to it! read asa gray in nd review of my orchis book on pollen of gymnadenia penetrating rostellum. i can, if you like, lend you these reviews; but they must be returned. r. brown, i remember, says pollen-tubes separate from grains before the lower ends of tubes reach ovules. i saw, and was interested by, abstract of your drosera paper ( / . a short note on the irritability of drosera in the "trans. bot. soc. edin." volume vii.); we have been at very much the same work. letter . to j. scott. down, february th [ ]. absence from home has prevented me from answering you sooner. i should think that the capsule of acropera had better be left till it shows some signs of opening, as our object is to judge whether the seeds are good; but i should prefer trusting to your better judgment. i am interested about the gongora, which i hope hereafter to try myself, as i have just built a small hot-house. asa gray's observations on the rostellum of gymnadenia are very imperfect, yet worth looking at. your case of imatophyllum is most interesting ( / . a sucker of imatophyllum minatum threw up a shoot in which the leaves were "two-ranked instead of four-ranked," and showed other differences from the normal.--"animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page .); even if the sport does not flower it will be worth my giving. i did not understand, or i had forgotten, that a single frond on a fern will vary; i now see that the case does come under bud-variation, and must be given by me. i had thought of it only as proof [of] inheritance in cryptogams; i am much obliged for your correction, and will consult again your paper and mr. bridgeman's. ( / . the facts are given in "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page .) i enclose varieties of maize from asa gray. pray do not thank me for trusting you; the thanks ought to go the other way. i felt a conviction after your first letter that you were a real lover of natural history. if you can advance good evidence showing that bisexual plants are more variable than unisexual, it will be interesting. i shall be very glad to read the discussion which you are preparing. i admit as fully as any one can do that cross-impregnation is the great check to endless variability; but i am not sure that i understand your view. i do not believe that the structure of primula has any necessary relation to a tendency to a dioecious structure, but seeing the difference in the fertility of the two forms, i felt bound unwillingly to admit that they might be a step towards dioeciousness; i allude to this subject in my linum paper. ( / . "linn. soc. journal," .) thanks for your answers to my other queries. i forgot to say that i was at kew the other day, and i find that they can give me capsules of several vandeae. letter . to j. scott. down, march th [ ]. your letter, as every one you have written, has greatly interested me. if you can show that certain individual passifloras, under certain known or unknown conditions of life, have stigmas capable of fertilisation by pollen from another species, or from another individual of its own species, yet not by its own individual pollen (its own individual pollen being proved to be good by its action on some other species), you will add a case of great interest to me; and which in my opinion would be quite worth your publication. ( / . cases nearly similar to those observed by scott were recorded by gartner and kolreuter, but in these instances only certain individuals were self-impotent. in "animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page , where the phenomenon is fully discussed, scott's observations ("trans. bot. soc. edin." ) are given as the earliest, except for one case recorded by lecoq ("fecondation," ). interesting work was afterwards done by hildebrand and fritz muller, as illustrated in many of the letters addressed to the latter.) i always imagined that such recorded cases must be due to unnatural conditions of life; and think i said so in the "origin." ( / . see "origin of species," edition i., page , for herbert's observations on self-impotence in hippeastrum. in spite of the uniformness of the results obtained in many successive years, darwin inferred that the plants must have been in an "unnatural state.") i am not sure that i understand your result, [nor] whether it means what i have above obscurely expressed. if you can prove the above, do publish; but if you will not publish i earnestly beg you to let me have the facts in detail; but you ought to publish, for i may not use the facts for years. i have been much interested by what you say on the rostellum exciting pollen to protrude tubes; but are you sure that the rostellum does excite them? would not tubes protrude if placed on parts of column or base of petals, etc., near to the stigma? please look at the "cottage gardener" (or "journal of horticulture") ( / . "journal of horticulture" and "cottage gardener," march st, . a short note describing cruger's discovery of self-fertilisation in cattleya, epidendrum, etc., and referring to the work of "an excellent observer, mr. j. scott." darwin adds that he is convinced that he has underrated the power of tropical orchids occasionally to produce seeds without the aid of insects.) to be published to-morrow week for letter of mine, in which i venture to quote you, and in which you will see a curious fact about unopened orchid flowers setting seed in west indies. dr. cruger attributes protrusion of tubes to ants carrying stigmatic secretion to pollen ( / . in cruger's paper ("linn. soc. journ." viii., ; read march rd ) he speaks of the pollen-masses in situ being acted on by the stigmatic secretion, but no mention is made of the agency of ants. he describes the pollen-tubes descending "from the [pollen] masses still in situ down into the ovarian canal."); but this is mere hypothesis. remember, pollen-tubes protrude within anther in neottia nidus-avis. i did think it possible or probable that perfect fertilisation might have been effected through rostellum. what a curious case your gongora must be: could you spare me one of the largest capsules? i want to estimate the number of seed, and try my hand if i can make them grow. this, however, is a foolish attempt, for dr. hooker, who was here a day or two ago, says they cannot at calcutta, and yet imported species have seeded and have naturally spread on to the adjoining trees! dr. cruger thinks i am wrong about catasetum: but i cannot understand his letter. he admits there are three forms in two species; and he speaks as if the sexes were separate in some and that others were hermaphrodites ( / . cruger ("linn. soc. journal," viii., page ) says that the apparently hermaphrodite form is always sterile in trinidad. darwin modified his account in the second edition of the orchid book.); but i cannot understand what he means. he has seen lots of great humble-bees buzzing about the flowers with the pollinia sticking to their backs! happy man!! i have the promise, but not yet surety, of some curious results with my homomorphic seedling cowslips: these have not followed the rule of chinese primula; homomorphic seedlings from short-styled parent have presented both forms, which disgusts me. you will see that i am better; but still i greatly fear that i must have a compulsory holiday. with sincere thanks and hearty admiration at your powers of observation... my poor p. scotica looks very sick which you so kindly sent me. ( / . sent by scott, january th, .) letter . to j. scott. april th [ ]. i really hardly know how to thank you enough for your very interesting letter. i shall certainly use all the facts which you have given me (in a condensed form) on the sterility of orchids in the work which i am now slowly preparing for publication. but why do you not publish these facts in a separate little paper? ( / . see letter , note, for reference to scott's paper.) they seem to me well worth it, and you really ought to get your name known. i could equally well use them in my book. i earnestly hope that you will experiment on passiflora, and let me give your results. dr. a. gray's observations were made loosely; he said in a letter he would attend this summer further to the case, which clearly surprised him much. i will say nothing about the rostellum, stigmatic utriculi, fertility of acropera and catasetum, for i am completely bewildered: it will rest with you to settle these points by your excellent observations and experiments. i must own i never could help doubting dr. hooker's case of the poppy. you may like to hear what i have seen this morning: i found ( / . see letter .) a primrose plant with flowers having three pistils, which when pulled asunder, without any tearing, allowed pollen to be placed on ovules. this i did with three flowers--pollen-tubes did not protrude after several days. but this day, the sixteenth (n.b.--primulas seem naturally slowly fertilised), i found many tubes protruded, and, what is very odd, they certainly seemed to have penetrated the coats of the ovules, but in no one instance the foramen of the ovule!! i mention this because it directly bears on your explanation of dr. cruger's case. ( / . cruger's case here referred to is doubtless the cleistogamic fertilisation of epidendrum, etc. scott discusses the question of self-fertilisation at great length in a letter to darwin dated april, and obviously written in . in epidendrum he observed a viscid matter extending from the stigmatic chamber to the anther: pollen-tubes had protruded from the anther not only where it was in contact with the viscid matter, but also from the central part, and these spread "over the anterior surface of the rostellum downward into the stigma." cruger believed the viscid matter reaching the anther was a necessary condition for the germination of the pollen-grains. scott points out that the viscid matter is produced in large quantity only after the pollen-grains have penetrated the stigma, and that it is, in fact, a consequence, not a preliminary to fertilisation. he finally explains cruger's case thus: "the greater humidity and equability of temperature consequent on such conditions [i.e. on the flowers being closed] is, i believe, the probable cause of these abnormally conditioned flowers so frequently fertilising themselves." scott also calls attention to the danger of being deceived by fungal hyphae in observations on germination of pollen.) i believe that your explanation is right; i should never have thought of it; yet this was stupid of me, for i remember thinking that the almost closed imperfect flowers of viola and oxalis were related to the protrusion of the pollen-tubes. my case of the aceras with the aborted labellum squeezed against stigma supports your view. ( / . see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page : the pollen germinated within the anther of a monstrous flower.) dr. cruger's notion about the ants was a simple conjecture. about cryptogamic filaments, remember dr. c. says that the unopened flowers habitually set fruit. i think that you will change your views on the imperfect flowers of viola and oxalis... letter . (?) letter . to j. scott. may nd [ ]. i have left home for a fortnight to see if i can, with little hope, improve my health. the parcel of orchid pods, which you have so kindly sent me, has followed me. i am sure you will forgive the liberty which i take in returning you the postage stamps. i never heard of such a scheme as that you were compelled to practise to fertilise the gongora! ( / . see "fertilisation of orchids," edition, ii., page . "mr. scott tried repeatedly, but in vain, to force the pollen-masses into the stigma of gongora atro-purpurea and truncata; but he readily fertilised them by cutting off the clinandrum and placing pollen-masses on the now exposed stigma.") it is a most curious problem what plan nature follows in this genus and acropera. ( / . in the "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page , darwin speculates as to the possible fertilisation of acropera by an insect with pollen-masses adhering to the extremity of its abdomen. it would appear that this guess (which does not occur in the first edition) was made before he heard of cruger's observation on the allied genus gongora, which is visited by a bee with a long tongue, which projects, when not in use, beyond and above the tip of the abdomen. cruger believes that this tongue is the pollinating agent. cruger's account is in the "journal of the linn. soc." viii., , page .) some day i will try and estimate how many seeds there are in gongora. i suppose and hope you have kept notes on all your observations on orchids, for, with my broken health and many other subjects, i do not know whether i shall ever have time to publish again; though i have a large collection of notes and facts ready. i think you show your wisdom in not wishing to publish too soon; a young author who publishes every trifle gets, sometimes unjustly, to be disregarded. i do not pretend to be much of a judge; but i can conscientiously say that i have never written one word to you on the merit of your letters that i do not fully believe in. please remember that i should very much wish for a copy of your paper on sterility of individual orchids ( / . "on the individual sterility and cross-impregnation of certain species of oncidium." [read june nd, .] "linn. soc. journal," viii., . this paper gives a full account of the self-sterility of oncidium in cases where the pollen was efficient in fertilising other individuals of the same species and of distinct species. some of the facts were given in scott's paper, "experiments on the fertilisation of orchids in the royal botanic garden of edinburgh," published in the "proc. bot. soc. edinb." . it is probably to the latter paper that darwin refers.) and on drosera. ( / . "trans. bot. soc. edinburgh," volume vii.) thanks for [note] about campanula perfoliata. i have asked asa gray for seeds, to whom i have mentioned your observations on rostellum, and asked him to look closer to the case of gymnadenia. ( / . see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) let me hear about the sporting imatophyllum if it flowers. perhaps i have blundered about primula; but certainly not about mere protrusion of pollen-tubes. i have been idly watching bees of several genera and diptera fertilising o. morio at this place, and it is a very pretty sight. i have confirmed in several ways the entire truth of my statement that there is no vestige of nectar in the spur; but the insects perforate the inner coat. this seems to me a curious little fact, which none of my reviewers have noticed. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, may rd [ ]. you can confer a real service on a good man, john scott, the writer of the enclosed letter, by reading it and giving me your opinion. i assure [you] john scott is a truly remarkable man. the part struck out is merely that he is not comfortable under mr. mcnab, and this part must be considered as private. now the question is, what think you of the offer? is expense of living high at darjeeling? may i say it is healthy? will he find the opportunity for experimental observations, which are a passion with him? it seems to me rather low pay. will you advise me for him? i shall say that as far as experiments in hand at the botanical garden in edinburgh are concerned, it would be a pity to hesitate to accept the offer. j. scott is head of the propagating department. i know you will not grudge aiding by your advice a good man. i shall tell him that i have not the slightest power to aid him in any way for the appointment. i should think voyage out and home ought to be paid for? letter . to john scott. down, may th, . now for a few words on science. i do not think i could be mistaken about the stigma of bolbophyllum ( / . bolbophyllum is remarkable for the closure of the stigmatic cavity which comes on after the flower has been open a little while, instead of after fertilisation, as in other genera. darwin connects the fact with the "exposed condition of the whole flower."--"fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .); i had the plant alive from kew, and watched many flowers. that is a most remarkable observation on foreign pollen emitting tubes, but not causing orifice to close ( / . see scott, "bot. soc. edin." , page , note. he applied pollinia from cypripedium and asclepias to flowers of tricopilia tortilis; and though the pollen germinated, the stigmatic chamber remained open, yet it invariably closes eighteen hours after the application of its own pollen.); it would have been interesting to have observed how close an alliance of form would have acted on the orifice of the stigma. it will probably be so many years, if ever, [before] i work up my observations on drosera, that i will not trouble you to send your paper, for i could not now find time to read it. if you have spare copy of your orchid paper, please send it, but do not get a copy of the journal, for i can get one, and you must often want to buy books. let me know when it is published. i have been glad to hear about mercurialis, but i will not accept your offer of seed on account of time, time, time, and weak health. for the same reason i must give up primula mollis. what a wonderful, indefatigable worker you are! you seem to have made a famous lot of interesting experiments. d. beaton once wrote that no man could cross any species of primula. you have apparently proved the contrary with a vengeance. your numerous experiments seem very well selected, and you will exhaust the subject. now when you have completed your work you should draw up a paper, well worth publishing, and give a list of all the dimorphic and non-dimorphic forms. i can give you, on the authority of prof. treviranus in "bot. zeitung," case of p. longiflora non-dimorphic. i am surprised at your cowslips in this state. is it a common yellow cowslip? i have seen oxlips (which from some experiments i now look at as certainly natural hybrids) in same state. if you think the botanical society of edinburgh would not do justice and publish your paper, send it to me to be communicated to the linnean society. i will delay my paper on successive dimorphic generations in primula ( / . published in the "journ. linn. soc." x., [ ].) till yours appears, so as in no way to interfere with your paper. possibly my results may be hardly worth publishing, but i think they will; the seedlings from two successive homomorphic generations seem excessively sterile. i will keep this letter till i hear from dr. hooker. i shall be very glad if you try passiflora. your experiments on primula seem so well chosen that whatever the result is they will be of value. but always remember that not one naturalist out of a dozen cares for really philosophical experiments. letter . to j. scott. down, may st [ ]. i am unwell, and must write briefly. i am very much obliged for the "courant." ( / . the edinburgh "evening courant" used to publish notices of the papers read at the botanical society of edinburgh. the paper referred to here was scott's on oncidium.) the facts will be of highest use to me. i feel convinced that your paper will have permanent value. your case seems excellently and carefully worked out. i agree that the alteration of title was unfortunate, but, after all, title does not signify very much. so few have attended to such points that i do not expect any criticism; but if so, i should think you had much better reply, but i could if you wished it much. i quite understand about the cases being individual sterility; so gartner states it was with him. would it be worth while to send a corrected copy of the "courant" to the "gardeners' chronicle?" ( / . an account of scott's work appeared in the "gardeners' chronicle," june th, , which is, at least partly, a reprint of the "courant," since it contains the awkward sentence criticised by darwin and referred to below. the title is "on the fertilisation of orchids," which was no doubt considered unfortunate as not suggesting the subject of the paper, and as being the same as that of darwin's book.) i did not know that you had tried lobelia fulgens: can you give me any particulars on the number of plants and kinds used, etc., that i may quote, as in a few days i shall be writing on this whole subject? no one will ever convince me that it is not a very important subject to philosophical naturalists. the hibiscus seems a very curious case, and i agree with your remarks. you say that you are glad of criticisms (by the way avoid "former and latter," the reader is always forced to go back to look). i think you would have made the case more striking if you had first showed that the pollen of oncidium sphacelatum was good; secondly, that the ovule was capable of fertilisation; and lastly, shown that the plant was impotent with its own pollen. "impotence of organs capable of elimination"--capable here strictly refers to organs; you mean to impotence. to eliminate impotence is a curious expression; it is removing a non-existent quality. but style is a trifle compared with facts, and you are capable of writing well. i find it a good rule to imagine that i want to explain the case in as few and simple words as possible to one who knows nothing of the subject. ( / . see letter , volume i.) i am tired. in my opinion you are an excellent observer. letter . to j. scott. down, june th, . i fear that you think that i have done more than i have with respect to dr. hooker. i did not feel that i had any right to ask him to remember you for a colonial appointment: all that i have done is to speak most highly of your scientific merits. of course this may hereafter fructify. i really think you cannot go on better, for educational purposes, than you are now doing,--observing, thinking, and some reading beat, in my opinion, all systematic education. do not despair about your style; your letters are excellently written, your scientific style is a little too ambitious. i never study style; all that i do is to try to get the subject as clear as i can in my own head, and express it in the commonest language which occurs to me. but i generally have to think a good deal before the simplest arrangement and words occur to me. even with most of our best english writers, writing is slow work; it is a great evil, but there is no help for it. i am sure you have no cause to despair. i hope and suppose your sending a paper to the linnean society will not offend your edinburgh friends; you might truly say that you sent the paper to me, and that (if it turns out so) i thought it worth communicating to the linnean society. i shall feel great interest in studying all your facts on primula, when they are worked out and the seed counted. size of capsules is often very deceptive. i am astonished how you can find time to make so many experiments. if you like to send me your paper tolerably well written, i would look it over and suggest any criticisms; but then this would cause you extra copying. remember, however, that lord brougham habitually wrote everything important three times over. the cases of the primulae which lose by variation their dimorphic characters seem to me very interesting. i find that the mid-styled (by variation) p. sinensis is more fertile with own pollen, even, than a heteromorphic union! if you have time it will be very good to experiment on linum lewisii. i wrote formerly to asa gray begging for seed. if you have time, i think experiments on any peloric flowers would be useful. i shall be sorry (and i am certain it is a mistake on the part of the society) if your orchid paper is not printed in extenso. i am now at work compiling all such cases, and shall give a very full abstract of all your observations. i hope to add in autumn some from you on passiflora. i would suggest to you the advantage, at present, of being very sparing in introducing theory in your papers (i formerly erred much in geology in that way): let theory guide your observations, but till your reputation is well established be sparing in publishing theory. it makes persons doubt your observations. how rarely r. brown ever indulged in theory: too seldom perhaps! do not work too hard, and do not be discouraged because your work is not appreciated by the majority. letter . to j. scott. july nd [ ?] many thanks for capsules. i would give table of the auricula ( / . in scott's paper ("linn. soc. journ." viii.) many experiments on the auricula are recorded.), especially owing to enclosed extract, which you can quote. your facts about varying fertility of the primulas will be appreciated by but very few botanists; but i feel sure that the day will come when they will be valued. by no means modify even in the slightest degree any result. accuracy is the soul of natural history. it is hard to become accurate; he who modifies a hair's breadth will never be accurate. it is a golden rule, which i try to follow, to put every fact which is opposed to one's preconceived opinion in the strongest light. absolute accuracy is the hardest merit to attain, and the highest merit. any deviation is ruin. sincere thanks for all your laborious trials on passiflora. i am very busy, and have got two of my sons ill--i very much fear with scarlet fever; if so, no more work for me for some days or weeks. i feel greatly interested about your primula cases. i think it much better to count seed than to weigh. i wish i had never weighed; counting is more accurate, though so troublesome. letter . to j. scott. down, th [ ?] from what you say i looked again at "bot. zeitung." ( / . "ueber dichogamie," "bot. zeit." january .) treviranus speaks of p. longiflora as short-styled, but this is evidently a slip of the pen, for further on, i see, he says the stigma always projects beyond anthers. your experiments on coloured primroses will be most valuable if proved true. ( / . the reference seems to be to scott's observation that the variety rubra of the primrose was sterile when crossed with pollen from the common primrose. darwin's caution to scott was in some measure justified, for in his experiments on seedlings raised by self-fertilisation of the edinburgh plants, he failed to confirm scott's result. see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page . scott's facts are in the "journal linn. soc." viii., page (read february th, ).) i will advise to best of my power when i see ms. if evidence is not good i would recommend you, for your reputation's sake, to try them again. it is not likely that you will be anticipated, and it is a great thing to fully establish what in future time will be considered an important discovery (or rediscovery, for no one has noticed gartner's facts). i will procure coloured primroses for next spring, but you may rely i will not publish before you. do not work too hard to injure your health. i made some crosses between primrose and cowslip, and i send the results, which you may use if you like. but remember that i am not quite certain that i well castrated the short-styled primrose; i believe any castration would be superfluous, as i find all [these] plants sterile when insects are excluded. be sure and save seed of the crossed differently coloured primroses or cowslips which produced least seed, to test the fertility of the quasi-hybrid seedlings. gartner found the common primrose and cowslip very difficult to cross, but he knew nothing on dimorphism. i am sorry about delay [of] your orchid paper; i should be glad of abstract of your new observations of self-sterility in orchids, as i should probably use the new facts. there will be an important paper in september in "annals and magazine of natural history," on ovules of orchids being formed after application of pollen, by dr. f. hildebrand of bonn. ( / . "ann. mag. nat. hist." xii., , page . the paper was afterwards published in the "bot. zeitung," .) letter . to j. scott. down, november th [ ]. every day that i could do anything, i have read a few pages of your paper, and have now finished it, and return it registered. ( / . this refers to the ms. of scott's paper on the primulaceae, "linn. soc. journ." viii. [february th, ] .) it has interested me deeply, and is, i am sure, an excellent memoir. it is well arranged, and in most parts well written. in the proof sheets you can correct a little with advantage. i have suggested a few alterations in pencil for your consideration, and have put in here and there a slip of paper. there will be no occasion to rewrite the paper--only, if you agree with me, to alter a few pages. when finished, return it to me, and i will with the highest satisfaction communicate it to the linnean society. i should be proud to be the author of the paper. i shall not have caused much delay, as the first meeting of the society was on november th. when your primula paper is finished, if you are so inclined, i should like to hear briefly about your verbascum and passiflora experiments. i tried verbascum, and have got the pods, but do not know when i shall be able to see to the results. this subject might make another paper for you. i may add that acropera luteola was fertilised by me, and had produced two fine pods. i congratulate you on your excellent paper. p.s.--in the summary to primula paper can you conjecture what is the typical or parental form, i.e. equal, long or short styled? letter . to j.d. hooker. down, [january th, ]. ( / . darwin's interest in scott's primula work is shown by the following extracts from a letter to hooker of january th, , written, therefore, before the paper was read, and also by the subsequent correspondence with hooker and asa gray. the first part of this letter illustrates darwin's condition during a period of especially bad health.) as i do nothing all day i often get fidgety, and i now fancy that charlie or some of your family [are] ill. when you have time let me have a short note to say how you all are. i have had some fearful sickness; but what a strange mechanism one's body is; yesterday, suddenly, i had a slight attack of rheumatism in my back, and i instantly became almost well, and so wonderfully strong that i walked to the hot-houses, which must be more than a hundred yards. i have sent scott's paper to the linnean society; i feel sure it is really valuable, but i fear few will care about it. remember my urgent wish to be able to send the poor fellow a word of praise from any one. i have had work to get him to allow me to send the paper to the linnean society, even after it was written out. letter . to j. scott. down, february th, . ( / . scott's paper on primulaceae was read at the linnean society on february th, .) the president, mr. bentham, i presume, was so much struck by your paper that he sent me a message to know whether you would like to be elected an associate. as only one is elected annually, this is a decided honour. the enclosed list shows what respectable men are associates. i enclose the rules of admission. i feel sure that the rule that if no communication is received within three years the associate is considered to have voluntarily withdrawn, is by no means rigorously adhered to. therefore, i advise you to accept; but of course the choice is quite free. you will see there is no payment. you had better write to me on this subject, as dr. hooker or i will propose you. letter . to j.d. hooker. september th, . i have been greatly interested by scott's paper. i probably overrate it from caring for the subject, but it certainly seems to me one of the very most remarkable memoirs on such subjects which i have ever read. from the subject being complex, and the style in parts obscure, i suppose very few will read it. i think it ought to be noticed in the "natural history review," otherwise the more remarkable facts will never be known. try and persuade oliver to do it; with the summary it would not be troublesome. i would offer, but i have sworn to myself i will do nothing till my volume on "variation under domestication" is complete. i know you will not have time to read scott, and therefore i will just point out the new and, as they seem to me, important points. firstly, the red cowslip, losing its dimorphic structure and changing so extraordinarily in its great production of seed with its own pollen, especially being nearly sterile when fertilised by, or fertilising, the common cowslip. the analogous facts with red and white primrose. secondly, the utter dissimilarity of action of the pollen of long- and short-styled form of one species in crossing with a distinct species. and many other points. will you suggest to oliver to review this paper? if he does so, and if it would be of any service to him, i would (as i have attended so much to these subjects) just indicate, with pages, leading and new points. i could send him, if he wishes, a separate and spare copy marked with pencil. letter . to asa gray. september th [ ]. ( / . in september, , darwin wrote to asa gray describing scott's work on the primulaceae as:--) a paper which has interested me greatly by a gardener, john scott; it seems to me a most remarkable production, though written rather obscurely in parts, but worth the labour of studying. i have just bethought me that for the chance of your noticing it in the "journal," i will point out the new and very remarkable facts. i have paid the poor fellow's passage out to india, where i hope he will succeed, as he is a most laborious and able man, with the manners almost of a gentleman. ( / . the following is an abstract of the paper which was enclosed in the letter to asa gray.) pages - . red cowslip by variation has become non-dimorphic, and with this change of structure has become much more productive of seed than even the heteromorphic union of the common cowslip. pages - , similar case with auricula; on the other hand a non-dimorphic variety of p. farinosa (page ) is less fertile. these changes, or variations, in the generative system seem to me very remarkable. but far more remarkable is the fact that the red cowslip (pages - ) is very sterile when fertilising, or fertilised by the common cowslip. here we have a new "physiological species." analogous facts given (page ) on the crossing of red and white primroses with common primroses. it is very curious that the two forms of the same species (pages , , , and ) hybridise with extremely different degrees of facility with distinct species. he shows (page ) that sometimes a cross with a quite distinct species yields more seed than a homomorphic union with own pollen. he shows (page ) that of the two homomorphic unions possible with each dimorphic species the short-styled (as i stated) is the most sterile, and that my explanation is probably true. there is a good summary to the paper. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letters to hooker, april st, april th and may nd, refer to darwin's scheme of employing scott as an assistant at down, and to scott's appointment to the botanic garden at calcutta.) down, april st, . i shall not at present allude to your very interesting letter (which as yet has been read to me only twice!), for i am full of a project which i much want you to consider. you will have seen scott's note. he tells me he has no plans for the future. thinking over all his letters, i believe he is a truly remarkable man. he is willing to follow suggestions, but has much originality in varying his experiments. i believe years may pass before another man appears fitted to investigate certain difficult and tedious points--viz. relative fertility of varieties of plants, including peloric and other monsters (already scott has done excellent work on this head); and, secondly, whether a plant's own pollen is less effective than that of another individual. now, if scott is moderate in his wishes, i would pay him for a year or two to work and publish on these or other such subjects which might arise. but i dare not have him here, for it would quite overwork me. there would not be plants sufficient for his work, and it would probably be an injury to himself, as it would put him out of the way of getting a good situation. now, i believe you have gardeners at kew who work and learn there without pay. what do you think of having scott there for a year or two to work and experiment? i can see enormous difficulties. in the first place you will not perhaps think the points indicated so highly important as i do. secondly, he would require ground in some out-of-the-way place where the plants could be covered by a net, which would be unsightly. on the other hand, i presume you would like a series of memoirs published on work done at kew, which i am fully convinced would have permanent value. it would, of course i conceive, be absolutely necessary that scott should be under the regular orders of the superintendent. the only way i can fancy that it could be done would be to explain to the superintendent that i temporarily supported scott solely for the sake of science, and appeal to his kindness to assist him. if you approved of having him (which i can see is improbable), and you simply ordered the superintendent to assist him, i believe everything would go to loggerheads. as for scott himself, it would be of course an advantage to him to study the cultivation at kew. you would get to know him, and if he really is a good man you could perhaps be able to recommend him to some situation at home or abroad. pray turn this [over] in your mind. i have no idea whether scott would like the place, but i can see that he has a burning zeal for science. he told me that his parents were in better circumstances, and that he chose a gardener's life solely as the best way of following science. i may just add that in his last letter he gives me the results of many experiments on different individuals of the same species of orchid, showing the most remarkable diversity in their sexual condition. it seems to me a grievous loss that such a man should have all his work cut short. please remember that i know nothing of him excepting from his letters: these show remarkable talent, astonishing perseverance, much modesty, and what i admire, determined difference from me on many points. what will sir william say? letter . to j.d. hooker. down, april th [ ]. i see my scheme for scott has invincible difficulties, and i am very much obliged to you for explaining them at such length. if ever i get decently well, and scott is free and willing, i will have him here for a couple of years to work out several problems, which otherwise would never be done. i cannot see what will become of the poor fellow. i enclose a little pamphlet from him, which i suppose is not of much scientific value, but is surprising as the work of a gardener. if you have time do just glance over it. i never heard anything so extraordinary as what you say about poisoning plants, etc. ...the post has just come in. your interest about scott is extraordinarily kind, and i thank you cordially. it seems absurd to say so, but i suspect that x is prejudiced against scott because he partially supports my views. ( / . in a letter to scott (dated june th) darwin warns him to keep his views "pretty quiet," and quotes hooker's opinion that "if it is known that you agree at all with my views on species it is enough to make you unpopular in edinburgh.") you must not trust my former letter about clematis. i worked on too old a plant, and blundered. i have now gone over the work again. it is really curious that the stiff peduncles are acted upon by a bit of thread weighing . of a grain. clematis glandulosa was a valuable present to me. my gardener showed it to me and said, "this is what they call a clematis," evidently disbelieving it. so i put a little twig to the peduncle, and the next day my gardener said, "you see it is a clematis, for it feels." that's the way we make out plants at down. my dear old friend, god bless you! letter . to j.d. hooker. [may nd, ]. what a good kind heart you have got. you cannot tell how your letter has pleased me. i will write to scott and ask him if he chooses to go out and risk engagement. if he will not he must want all energy. he says himself he wants stoicism, and is too sensitive. i hope he may not want courage. i feel sure he is a remarkable man, with much good in him, but no doubt many errors and blemishes. i can vouch for his high intellect (in my judgment he is the best observer i ever came across); for his modesty, at least in correspondence; and there is something high-minded in his determination not to receive money from me. i shall ask him whether he can get a good character for probity and sobriety, and whether he can get aid from his relations for his voyage out. i will help, and, if necessary, pay the whole voyage, and give him enough to support him for some weeks at calcutta. i will write when i hear from him. god bless you; you, who are so overworked, are most generous to take so much trouble about a man you have had nothing to do with. ( / . scott had left the botanic gardens at edinburgh in march , chagrined at what, justly or unjustly, he considered discouragement and slight. the indian offer was most gladly and gratefully accepted.) letter . to j. scott. down, november st, . dr. hooker has forwarded to me your letter as the best and simplest plan of explaining affairs. i am sincerely grieved to hear of the pecuniary problem which you have undergone, but now fortunately passed. i assure you that i have never entertained any feelings in regard to you which you suppose. please to remember that i distinctly stated that i did not consider the sum which i advanced as a loan, but as a gift; and surely there is nothing discreditable to you, under the circumstances, in receiving a gift from a rich man, as i am. therefore i earnestly beg you to banish the whole subject from your mind, and begin laying up something for yourself in the future. i really cannot break my word and accept payment. pray do not rob me of my small share in the credit of aiding to put the right man in the right place. you have done good work, and i am sure will do more; so let us never mention the subject again. i am, after many interruptions, at work again on my essay on expression, which was written out once many months ago. i have found your remarks the best of all which have been sent me, and so i state. chapter .xi.--botany, - . .xi.i. miscellaneous, - .-- .xi.ii. correspondence with fritz muller, - .-- .xi.iii. miscellaneous, - . .xi.i. miscellaneous, - . letter . to d. oliver. down [april, ]. ( / . the following letter illustrates the truth of sir w. thiselton-dyer's remark that darwin was never "afraid of his facts." ( / . "charles darwin" (nature series), , page .) the entrance of pollen-tubes into the nucellus by the chalaza, instead of through the micropyle, was first fully demonstrated by treub in his paper "sur les casuarinees et leur place dans le systeme naturel," published in the "ann. jard. bot. buitenzorg," x., . two years later miss benson gave an account of a similar phenomenon in certain amentiferae ("trans. linn. soc." - , page ). this chalazogamic method of fertilisation has since been recognised in other flowering plants, but not, so far as we are aware, in the genus primula.) it is a shame to trouble [you], but will you tell me whether the ovule of primula is "anatropal," nearly as figured by gray, page , "lessons in botany," or rather more tending to "amphitropal"? i never looked at such a point before. why i am curious to know is because i put pollen into the ovarium of monstrous primroses, and now, after sixteen days, and not before (the length of time agrees with slowness of natural impregnation), i find abundance of pollen-tubes emitted, which cling firmly to the ovules, and, i think i may confidently state, penetrate the ovule. but here is an odd thing: they never once enter at (what i suppose to be) the "orifice," but generally at the chalaza...do you know how pollen-tubes go naturally in primula? do they run down walls of ovarium, and then turn up the placenta, and so debouch near the "orifices" of the ovules? if you thought it worth while to examine ovules, i would see if there are more monstrous flowers, and put pollen into the ovarium, and send you the flowers in fourteen or fifteen days afterwards. but it is rather troublesome. i would not do it unless you cared to examine the ovules. like a foolish and idle man, i have wasted a whole morning over them... in two ovules there was an odd appearance, as if the outer coat of ovule at the chalaza end (if i understand the ovule) had naturally opened or withered where most of the pollen-tubes seemed to penetrate, which made me at first think this was a widely open foramen. i wonder whether the ovules could be thus fertilised? letter . to d. oliver. down [april, ]. many thanks about the primula. i see that i was pretty right about the ovules. i have been thinking that the apparent opening at the chalaza end must have been withering or perhaps gnawing by some very minute insects, as the ovarium is open at the upper end. if i have time i will have another look at pollen-tubes, as, from what you say, they ought to find their way to the micropyle. but ovules to me are far more troublesome to dissect than animal tissue; they are so soft, and muddy the water. letter . to maxwell masters. down, april th [ ]. i have been very glad to read your paper on peloria. ( / . "on the existence of two forms of peloria." "natural history review," april, , page .) for the mere chance of the following case being new i send it. a plant which i purchased as corydalis tuberosa has, as you know, one nectary--short, white, and without nectar; the pistil is bowed towards the true nectary; and the hood formed by the inner petals slips off towards the opposite side (all adaptations to insect agency, like many other pretty ones in this family). now on my plants there are several flowers (the fertility of which i will observe) with both nectaries equal and purple and secreting nectar; the pistil is straight, and the hood slips off either way. in short, these flowers have the exact structure of dielytra and adlumia. seeing this, i must look at the case as one of reversion; though it is one of the spreading of irregularity to two sides. as columbine [aquilegia] has all petals, etc., irregular, and as monkshood [aconitum] has two petals irregular, may not the case given by seringe, and referred to [by] you ( / . "seringe describes and figures a flower [of aconitum] wherein all the sepals were helmet-shaped," and the petals similarly affected. maxwell masters, op. cit., page .), by you be looked at as reversion to the columbine state? would it be too bold to suppose that some ancient linaria, or allied form, and some ancient viola, had all petals spur-shaped, and that all cases of "irregular peloria" in these genera are reversions to such imaginary ancient form? ( / . "'regular or congenital peloria' would include those flowers which, contrary to their usual habit, retain throughout the whole of their growth their primordial regularity of form and equality of proportion. 'irregular or acquired peloria,' on the other hand, would include those flowers in which the irregularity of growth that ordinarily characterises some portions of the corolla is manifested in all of them." maxwell masters, loc. cit.) it seems to me, in my ignorance, that it would be advantageous to consider the two forms of peloria when occurring in the very same species as probably due to the same general law--viz., one as reversion to very early state, and the other as reversion to a later state when all the petals were irregularly formed. this seems at least to me a priori a more probable view than to look at one form of peloria as due to reversion and the other as something distinct. ( / . see maxwell masters, "vegetable teratology," , page ; "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page .) what do you think of this notion? letter . to p.h. gosse. ( / . the following was written in reply to mr. gosse's letter of may th asking for a solution of his difficulties in fertilising stanhopea. it is reprinted by the kind permission of mr. edmund gosse from his delightful book, the "life of philip henry gosse," london, , page .) down, june nd, . it would give me real pleasure to resolve your doubts, but i cannot. i can give only suspicions and my grounds for them. i should think the non-viscidity of the stigmatic hollow was due to the plant not living under its natural conditions. please see what i have said on acropera. an excellent observer, mr. j. scott, of the botanical gardens, edinburgh, finds all that i say accurate, but, nothing daunted, he with the knife enlarged the orifice and forced in pollen-masses; or he simply stuck them into the contracted orifice without coming into contact with the stigmatic surface, which is hardly at all viscid, when, lo and behold, pollen-tubes were emitted and fine seed capsules obtained. this was effected with acropera loddigesii; but i have no doubt that i have blundered badly about a. luteola. i mention all this because, as mr. scott remarks, as the plant is in our hot-houses, it is quite incredible it ever could be fertilised in its native land. the whole case is an utter enigma to me. probably you are aware that there are cases (and it is one of the oddest facts in physiology) of plants which, under culture, have their sexual functions in so strange a condition, that though their pollen and ovules are in a sound state and can fertilise and be fertilised by distinct but allied species, they cannot fertilise themselves. now, mr. scott has found this the case with certain orchids, which again shows sexual disturbance. he had read a paper at the botanical society of edinburgh, and i daresay an abstract which i have seen will appear in the "gardeners' chronicle"; but blunders have crept in in copying, and parts are barely intelligible. how insects act with your stanhopea i will not pretend to conjecture. in many cases i believe the acutest man could not conjecture without seeing the insect at work. i could name common english plants in this predicament. but the musk-orchis [herminium monorchis] is a case in point. since publishing, my son and myself have watched the plant and seen the pollinia removed, and where do you think they invariably adhere in dozens of specimens?--always to the joint of the femur with the trochanter of the first pair of legs, and nowhere else. when one sees such adaptation as this, it would be hopeless to conjecture on the stanhopea till we know what insect visits it. i have fully proved that my strong suspicion was correct that with many of our english orchids no nectar is excreted, but that insects penetrate the tissues for it. so i expect it must be with many foreign species. i forgot to say that if you find that you cannot fertilise any of your exotics, take pollen from some allied form, and it is quite probable that will succeed. will you have the kindness to look occasionally at your bee-ophrys near torquay, and see whether pollinia are ever removed? it is my greatest puzzle. please read what i have said on it, and on o. arachnites. i have since proved that the account of the latter is correct. i wish i could have given you better information. p.s.--if the flowers of the stanhopea are not too old, remove pollen-masses from their pedicels, and stick them with a little liquid pure gum to the stigmatic cavity. after the case of the acropera, no one can dare positively say that they would not act. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, saturday, th [december ]. i am very glad that this will reach you at kew. you will then get rest, and i do hope some lull in anxiety and fear. nothing is so dreadful in this life as fear; it still sickens me when i cannot help remembering some of the many illnesses our children have endured. my father, who was a sceptical man, was convinced that he had distinctly traced several cases of scarlet fever to handling letters from convalescents. the vases ( / . probably wedgwood ware.) did come from my sister susan. she is recovering, and was much pleased to hear that you liked them; i have now sent one of your notes to her, in which you speak of them as "enchanting," etc. i have had a bad spell--vomiting, every day for eleven days, and some days many times after every meal. it is astonishing the degree to which i keep up some strength. dr. brinton was here two days ago, and says he sees no reason [why] i may not recover my former degree of health. i should like to live to do a little more work, and often i feel sure i shall, and then again i feel that my tether is run out. your hastings note, my dear old fellow, was a copley medal to me and more than a copley medal: not but what i know well that you overrate what i have been able to do. ( / . the proposal to give the medal to darwin failed in , but his friends were successful in : see "life and letters," iii., page .) now that i am disabled, i feel more than ever what a pleasure observing and making out little difficulties is. by the way, here is a very little fact which may interest you. a partridge foot is described in "proc. zoolog. soc." with a huge ball of earth attached to it as hard as rock. ( / . "proc. zool. soc." , page , by prof. newton, who sent the foot to darwin: see "origin," edition vi., page .) bird killed in . leg has been sent me, and i find it diseased, and no doubt the exudation caused earth to accumulate; now already thirty-two plants have come up from this ball of earth. by jove! i must write no more. good-bye, my best of friends. there is an italian edition of the "origin" preparing. this makes the fifth foreign edition--i.e. in five foreign countries. owen will not be right in telling longmans that the book would be utterly forgotten in ten years. hurrah! letter . to d. oliver. down, february th [ ]. many thanks for the epacrids, which i have kept, as they will interest me when able to look through the microscope. dr. cruger has sent me the enclosed paper, with power to do what i think fit with it. he would evidently prefer it to appear in the "nat. hist. review." please read it, and let me have your decision pretty soon. some germanisms must be corrected; whether woodcuts are necessary i have not been able to pay attention enough to decide. if you refuse, please send it to the linnean society as communicated by me. ( / . h. cruger's "a few notes on the fecundation of orchids, etc." [read march, .] "linn. soc. journ." viii., - , page .) the paper has interested me extremely, and i shall have no peace till i have a good boast. the sexes are separate in catasetum, which is a wonderful relief to me, as i have had two or three letters saying that the male c. tridentatum seeds. ( / . see footnote letter on the sexual relation between the three forms known as catasetum tridentatum, monacanthus viridis, and myanthus barbatus. for further details see darwin, "linn. soc. journ." vi., , page , and "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) it is pretty clear to me that two or three forms are confounded under this name. observe how curiously nearly perfect the pollen of the female is, according to cruger,--certainly more perfect than the pollen from the guyana species described by me. i was right in the manner in which the pollen adheres to the hairy back of the humble-bee, and hence the force of the ejection of the pollina. ( / . this view was given in "fertilisation of orchids," edition i., , page .) i am still more pleased that i was right about insects gnawing the fleshy labellum. this is important, as it explains all the astounding projections on the labellum of oncidium, phalaenopsis, etc. excuse all my boasting. it is the best medicine for my stomach. tell me whether you mean to take up orchids, as hooker said you were thinking of doing. do you know coryanthes, with its wonderful basket of water? see what cruger says about it. it beats everything in orchids. ( / . for coryanthes see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down [september th, ]. thanks for your note of the th. you think much and greatly too much of me and my doings; but this is pleasant, for you have represented for many years the whole great public to me. i have read with interest bentham's address on hybridism. i am glad that he is cautious about naudin's view, for i cannot think that it will hold. ( / . c. naudin's "nouvelles recherches sur l'hydridite dans les vegetaux." the complete paper, with coloured plates, was presented to the academy in , and published in full in the "nouvelles archives de museum d'hist. nat." volume i., , page . the second part only appeared in the "ann. sci. nat." xix., . mr. bentham's address dealing with hybridism is in "proc. linn. soc." viii., , page ix. a review of naudin is given in the "natural history review," , page . naudin's paper is of much interest, as containing a mechanical theory of reproduction of the same general character as that of pangenesis. in the "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page , darwin states that in his treatment of hybridism in terms of gemmules he is practically following naudin's treatment of the same theme in terms of "essences." naudin, however, does not clearly distinguish between hybrid and pure gemmules, and makes the assumption that the hybrid or mixed essences tend constantly to dissociate into pure parental essences, and thus lead to reversion. it is to this view that darwin refers when he says that naudin's view throws no light on the reversion to long-lost characters. his own attempt at explaining this fact occurs in "variation under domestication," ii., edition ii., page . mr. bateson ("mendel's principle of heredity," cambridge, , page ) says: "naudin clearly enuntiated what we shall henceforth know as the mendelian conception of the dissociation of characters of cross-breds in the formation of the germ-cells, though apparently he never developed this conception." it is remarkable that, as far as we know, darwin never in any way came across mendel's work. one of darwin's correspondents, however, the late mr. t. laxton, of stamford, was close on the trail of mendelian principle. mr. bateson writes (op. cit., page ): "had he [laxton] with his other gifts combined this penetration which detects a great principle hidden in the thin mist of 'exceptions,' we should have been able to claim for him that honour which must ever be mendel's in the history of discovery.") the tendency of hybrids to revert to either parent is part of a wider law (which i am fully convinced that i can show experimentally), namely, that crossing races as well as species tends to bring back characters which existed in progenitors hundreds and thousands of generations ago. why this should be so, god knows. but naudin's view throws no light, that i can see, on this reversion of long-lost characters. i wish the ray society would translate gartner's "bastarderzeugung"; it contains more valuable matter than all other writers put together, and would do great service if better known. ( / . "versuche uber die bastarderzeugung im pflanzenreich": stuttgart, .) letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . mr. huxley had doubted the accuracy of observations on catasetum published in the "fertilisation of orchids." in what formed the postscript to the following letter, darwin wrote: "i have had more catasetums,--all right, you audacious 'caviller.'") down, october st [ ]. in a little book, just published, called the "three barriers" (a theological hash of old abuse of me), owen gives to the author a new resume of his brain doctrine; and i thought you would like to hear of this. he ends with a delightful sentence. "no science affords more scope or easier ground for the caviller and controversialist; and these do good by preventing scholars from giving more force to generalisations than the master propounding them does, or meant his readers or hearers to give." you will blush with pleasure to hear that you are of some use to the master. letter . to j.d. hooker. [february, ?] i shall write again. i write now merely to ask, if you have naravelia ( / . ranunculaceae.) (the clematis-like plant told me by oliver), to try and propagate me a plant at once. have you clematis cirrhosa? it will amuse me to tell you why clematis interests me, and why i should so very much like to have naravelia. the leaves of clematis have no spontaneous movement, nor have the internodes; but when by growth the peduncles of leaves are brought into contact with any object, they bend and catch hold. the slightest stimulus suffices, even a bit of cotton thread a few inches long; but the stimulus must be applied during six or twelve hours, and when the peduncles once bend, though the touching object be removed, they never get straight again. now mark the difference in another leaf-climber--viz., tropaeolum: here the young internodes revolve day and night, and the peduncles of the leaves are thus brought into contact with an object, and the slightest momentary touch causes them to bend in any direction and catch the object, but as the axis revolves they must be often dragged away without catching, and then the peduncles straighten themselves again, and are again ready to catch. so that the nervous system of clematis feels only a prolonged touch--that of tropaeolum a momentary touch: the peduncles of the latter recover their original position, but clematis, as it comes into contact by growth with fixed objects, has no occasion to recover its position, and cannot do so. you did send me flagellaria, but most unfortunately young plants do not have tendrils, and i fear my plant will not get them for another year, and this i much regret, as these leaf-tendrils seem very curious, and in gloriosa i could not make out the action, but i have now a young plant of gloriosa growing up (as yet with simple leaves) which i hope to make out. thank oliver for decisive answer about tendrils of vines. it is very strange that tendrils formed of modified leaves and branches should agree in all their four highly remarkable properties. i can show a beautiful gradation by which leaves produce tendrils, but how the axis passes into a tendril utterly puzzles me. i would give a guinea if vine-tednrils could be found to be leaves. ( / . it is an interesting fact that darwin's work on climbing plants was well advanced before he discovered the existence of the works of palm, mohl, and dutrochet on this subject. on march nd, , he wrote to hooker:--"you quite overrate my tendril work, and there is no occasion to plague myself about priority." in june he speaks of having read "two german books, and all, i believe, that has been written on climbers, and it has stirred me up to find that i have a good deal of new matter.") letter . to j.d. hooker. down, june nd [ ]. you once offered me a combretum. ( / . the two forms of shoot in c. argenteum are described in "climbing plants," page .) i having c. purpureum, out of modesty like an ass refused. can you now send me a plant? i have a sudden access of furor about climbers. do you grow adlumia cirrhosa? your seed did not germinate with me. could you have a seedling dug up and potted? i want it fearfully, for it is a leaf-climber, and therefore sacred. i have some hopes of getting adlumia, for i used to grow the plant, and seedlings have often come up, and we are now potting all minute reddish-coloured weeds. ( / . we believe that the adlumia which came up year by year in flower boxes in the down verandah grew from seed supplied by asa gray.) i have just got a plant with sensitive axis, quite a new case; and tell oliver i now do not care at all how many tendrils he makes axial, which at one time was a cruel torture to me. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november rd [ ]. many thanks for your splendid long letter. but first for business. please look carefully at the enclosed specimen of dicentra thalictriformis, and throw away. ( / . dicentra thalictrifolia, a himalayan species of fumariaceae, with leaf-tendrils.) when the plant was young i concluded certainly that the tendrils were axial, or modified branches, which mohl says is the case with some fumariaceae. ( / . "ueber den bau und das winden der ranken und schlingpflanzen. eine gekronte preisschrift," to, tubingen, . at page mohl describes the tips of the branches of fumaria [corydalis] clavicualta as being developed into tendrils, as well as the leaves. for this reason darwin placed the plant among the tendril-bearers rather than among the true leaf-climbers: see "climbing plants," edition ii., , page .) you looked at them here and agreed. but now the plant is old, what i thought was a branch with two leaves and ending in a tendril looks like a gigantic leaf with two compound leaflets, and the terminal part converted into a tendril. for i see buds in the fork between supposed branch and main stem. pray look carefully--you know i am profoundly ignorant--and save me from a horrid mistake. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following is interesting, as containing a foreshadowing of the chemotaxis of antherozoids which was shown to exist by pfeffer in : see "untersuchungen aus dem botanischen institut zu tubingen," volume i., page . there are several papers by h.j. carter on the reproduction of the lower organisms in the "annals and magazine of natural history" between and .) down, sunday, nd, and saturday, th [october, ]. i have been wading through the "annals and mag. of n. history." for last ten years, and have been interested by several papers, chiefly, however, translations; but none have interested me more than carter's on lower vegetables, infusoria, and protozoa. is he as good a workman as he appears? for if so he would deserve a royal medal. i know it is not new; but how wonderful his account of the spermatozoa of some dioecious alga or conferva, swimming and finding the minute micropyle in a distinct plant, and forcing its way in! why, these zoospores must possess some sort of organ of sense to guide their locomotive powers to the small micropyle; and does not this necessarily imply something like a nervous system, in the same way as complemental male cirripedes have organs of sense and locomotion, and nothing else but a sack of spermatozoa? letter . to f. hildebrand. may th, . since writing to you before, i have read your admirable memoir on salvia ( / . "pringsheim's jahrbucher," volume iv., .), and it has interested me almost as much as when i first investigated the structure of orchids. your paper illustrates several points in my "origin of species," especially the transition of organs. knowing only two or three species in the genus, i had often marvelled how one cell of the anther could have been transformed into the moveable plate or spoon; and how well you show the gradations. but i am surprised that you did not more strongly insist on this point. i shall be still more surprised if you do not ultimately come to the same belief with me, as shown by so many beautiful contrivances,--that all plants require, from some unknown cause, to be occasionally fertilised by pollen from a distinct individual. (plate: fritz muller.) .xi.ii. correspondence with fritz muller, - . ( / . the letters from darwin to muller are given as a separate group, instead of in chronological sequence with the other botanical letters, as better illustrating the uninterrupted friendship and scientific comradeship of the two naturalists.) letter . to f. muller. down, october th [ ]. i received about a fortnight ago your second letter on climbing plants, dated august st. it has greatly interested me, and it corrects and fills up a great hiatus in my paper. as i thought you could not object, i am having your letter copied, and will send the paper to the linnean society. ( / . "notes on some of the climbing plants near desterro" [ ], "linn. soc. journ." ix., .) i have slightly modified the arrangement of some parts and altered only a few words, as you write as good english as an englishman. i do not quite understand your account of the arrangement of the leaves of strychnos, and i think you use the word "bracteae" differently to what english authors do; therefore i will get dr. hooker to look over your paper. i cannot, of course, say whether the linnean society will publish your paper; but i am sure it ought to do so. as the society is rather poor, i fear that it will give only a few woodcuts from your truly admirable sketches. letter . to f. muller. ( / . in darwin's book on climbing plants, ( / . first given as a paper before the linnean society, and published in the "linn. soc. journ." volume ix.,), he wrote (page ): "the conclusion is forced on our minds that the capacity of revolving, on which most climbing plants depend, is inherent, though undeveloped, in almost every plant in the vegetable kingdom"--a conclusion which was verified in the "power of movement in plants." the present letter is interesting in referring to fritz muller's observations on the "revolving nutation," or circumnutation of alisma macrophylla and linum usitatissimum, the latter fact having been discovered by f. muller's daughter rosa. this was probably the earliest observation on the circumnutation of a non-climbing plant, and muller, in a paper dated , and published in volume v. of the "jenaische zeitschrift," page , calls attention to its importance in relation to the evolution of the habit of climbing. the present letter was probably written in , since it refers to muller's paper read before the linnean soc. on december th, . if so, the facts on circumnutation must have been communicated to darwin some years before their publication in the "jenaische zeitschrift.") down, december th [ ]. i have received your interesting letter of october th, with its new facts on branch-tendrils. if the linnean society publishes your paper ( / . ibid., , page .), as i am sure it ought to do, i will append a note with some of these new facts. i forwarded immediately your ms. to professor max schultze, but i did not read it, for german handwriting utterly puzzles me, and i am so weak, i am capable of no exertion. i took the liberty, however, of asking him to send me a copy, if separate ones are printed, and i reminded him about the sponge paper. you will have received before this my book on orchids, and i wish i had known that you would have preferred the english edition. should the german edition fail to reach you, i will send an english one. that is a curious observation of your daughter about the movement of the apex of the stem of linum, and would, i think, be worth following out. ( / . f. muller, "jenaische zeitschrift," bd. v., page . here, also, are described the movements of alisma.) i suspect many plants move a little, following the sun; but all do not, for i have watched some pretty carefully. i can give you no zoological news, for i live the life of the most secluded hermit. i occasionally hear from ernest hackel, who seems as determined as you are to work out the subject of the change of species. you will have seen his curious paper on certain medusae reproducing themselves by seminal generation at two periods of growth. ( / . on april rd, , darwin wrote to f. muller: "your diagram of the movements of the flower-peduncle of the alisma is extremely curious. i suppose the movement is of no service to the plant, but shows how easily the species might be converted into a climber. does it bend through irritability when rubbed?" letter . to f. muller. down, september th [ ]. i have just received your letter of august nd, and am, as usual, astonished at the number of interesting points which you observe. it is quite curious how, by coincidence, you have been observing the same subjects that have lately interested me. your case of the notylia is quite new to me ( / . see f. muller, "bot. zeitung," , page ; "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .); but it seems analogous with that of acropera, about the sexes of which i blundered greatly in my book. i have got an acropera now in flower, and have no doubt that some insect, with a tuft of hairs on its tail, removes by the tuft, the pollinia, and inserts the little viscid cap and the long pedicel into the narrow stigmatic cavity, and leaves it there with the pollen-masses in close contact with, but not inserted into, the stigmatic cavity. i find i can thus fertilise the flowers, and so i can with stanhopea, and i suspect that this is the case with your notylia. but i have lately had an orchis in flower--viz. acineta, which i could not anyhow fertilise. dr. hildebrand lately wrote a paper ( / . "bot. zeitung," , .) showing that with some orchids the ovules are not mature and are not fertilised until months after the pollen-tubes have penetrated the column, and you have independently observed the same fact, which i never suspected in the case of acropera. the column of such orchids must act almost like the spermatheca of insects. your orchis with two leaf-like stigmas is new to me; but i feel guilty at your wasting your valuable time in making such beautiful drawings for my amusement. your observations on those plants being sterile which grow separately, or flower earlier than others, are very interesting to me: they would be worth experimenting on with other individuals. i shall give in my next book several cases of individual plants being sterile with their own pollen. i have actually got on my list eschscholtzia ( / . see "animals and plants," ii., edition ii., page .) for fertilising with its own pollen, though i did not suspect it would prove sterile, and i will try next summer. my object is to compare the rate of growth of plants raised from seed fertilised by pollen from the same flower and by pollen from a distinct plant, and i think from what i have seen i shall arrive at interesting results. dr. hildebrand has lately described a curious case of corydalis cava which is quite sterile with its own pollen, but fertile with pollen of any other individual plant of the species. ( / . "international horticultural congress," london, , quoted in "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page .) what i meant in my paper on linum about plants being dimorphic in function alone, was that they should be divided into two equal bodies functionally but not structurally different. i have been much interested by what you say on seeds which adhere to the valves being rendered conspicuous. you will see in the new edition of the "origin" ( / . "origin of species," edition iv., , page . a discussion on the origin of beauty, including the bright colours of flowers and fruits.) why i have alluded to the beauty and bright colours of fruit; after writing this it troubled me that i remembered to have seen brilliantly coloured seed, and your view occurred to me. there is a species of peony in which the inside of the pod is crimson and the seeds dark purple. i had asked a friend to send me some of these seeds, to see if they were covered with anything which could prove attractive to birds. i received some seeds the day after receiving your letter, and i must own that the fleshy covering is so thin that i can hardly believe it would lead birds to devour them; and so it was in an analogous case with passiflora gracilis. how is this in the cases mentioned by you? the whole case seems to me rather a striking one. i wish i had heard of mikania being a leaf-climber before your paper was printed ( / . see "climbing plants ( rd thousand, ), page . mikania and mutisia both belong to the compositae. mikania scandens is a twining plant: it is another species which, by its leaf-climbing habit, supplies a transition to the tendril-climber mutisia. f. muller's paper is in "linn. soc. journ." ix., page .), for we thus get a good gradation from m. scandens to mutisia, with its little modified, leaf-like tendrils. i am glad to hear that you can confirm (but render still more wonderful) hackel's most interesting case of linope. huxley told me that he thought the case would somehow be explained away. letter . to f. muller. down [received january th, ]. i have so much to thank you for that i hardly know how to begin. i have received the bulbils of oxalis, and your most interesting letter of october st. i planted half the bulbs, and will plant the other half in the spring. the case seems to me very curious, and until trying some experiments in crossing i can form no conjecture what the abortion of the stamens in so irregular a manner can signify. but i fear from what you say the plant will prove sterile, like so many others which increase largely by buds of various kinds. since i asked you about oxalis, dr. hildebrand has published a paper showing that a great number of species are trimorphic, like lythrum, but he has tried hardly any experiments. ( / . hildebrand's work, published in the "monatsb. d. akad. d. wiss. berlin," , was chiefly on herbarium specimens. his experimental work was published in the "bot. zeitung," .) i am particularly obliged for the information and specimens of cordia ( / . cordiaceae: probably dimorphic.), and shall be most grateful for seed. i have not heard of any dimorphic species in this family. hardly anything in your letter interested me so much as your account and drawing of the valves of the pod of one of the mimoseae with the really beautiful seeds. i will send some of these seeds to kew to be planted. but these seeds seem to me to offer a very great difficulty. they do not seem hard enough to resist the triturating power of the gizzard of a gallinaceous bird, though they must resist that of some other birds; for the skin is as hard as ivory. i presume that these seeds cannot be covered with any attractive pulp? i soaked one of the seeds for ten hours in warm water, which became only very slightly mucilaginous. i think i will try whether they will pass through a fowl uninjured. ( / . the seeds proved to be those of adenanthera pavonina. the solution of the difficulty is given in the following extract from a letter to muller, march nd, : "i wrote to india on the subject, and i hear from mr. j. scott that parrots are eager for the seeds, and, wonderful as the fact is, can split them open with their beaks; they first collect a large number in their beaks, and then settle themselves to split them, and in doing so drop many; thus i have no doubt they are disseminated, on the same principle that the acorns of our oaks are most widely disseminated." possibly a similar explanation may hold good for the brightly coloured seeds of abrus precatorius.) i hope you will observe whether any bird devours them; and could you get any young man to shoot some and observe whether the seeds are found low down in the intestines? it would be well worth while to plant such seeds with undigested seeds for comparison. an opponent of ours might make a capital case against us by saying that here beautiful pods and seeds have been formed not for the good of the plant, but for the good of birds alone. these seeds would make a beautiful bracelet for one of my daughters, if i had enough. i may just mention that euonymus europoeus is a case in point: the seeds are coated by a thin orange layer, which i find is sufficient to cause them to be devoured by birds. i have received your paper on martha [posoqueria ( / . "bot. zeitung," .)]; it is as wonderful as the most wonderful orchis; ernst hackel brought me the paper and stayed a day with me. i have seldom seen a more pleasant, cordial, and frank man. he is now in madeira, where he is going to work chiefly on the medusae. his great work is now published, and i have a copy; but the german is so difficult i can make out but little of it, and i fear it is too large a work to be translated. your fact about the number of seeds in the capsule of the maxillaria ( / . see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page .) came just at the right time, as i wished to give one or two such facts. does this orchid produce many capsules? i cannot answer your question about the aerial roots of catasetum. i hope you have received the new edition of the "origin." your paper on climbing plants ( / . "linn. soc. journal," ix., , page .) is printed, and i expect in a day or two to receive the spare copies, and i will send off three copies as before stated, and will retain some in case you should wish me to send them to any one in europe, and will transmit the remainder to yourself. letter . to f. muller. down [received february th, ]. your letter of november nd contained an extraordinary amount of interesting matter. what a number of dimorphic plants south brazil produces: you observed in one day as many or more dimorphic genera than all the botanists in europe have ever observed. when my present book is finished i shall write a final paper upon these plants, so that i am extremely glad to hear of your observations and to see the dried flowers; nevertheless, i should regret much if i prevented you from publishing on the subject. plumbago ( / . plumbago has not been shown to be dimorphic.) is quite new to me, though i had suspected it. it is curious how dimorphism prevails by groups throughout the world, showing, as i suppose, that it is an ancient character; thus hedyotis is dimorphic in india ( / . hedyotis was sent to darwin by f. muller; it seems possible, therefore, that hedyotis was written by mistake for some other rubiaceous plant, perhaps oldenlandia, which john scott sent him from india.); the two other genera in the same sub-family with villarsia are dimorphic in europe and ceylon; a sub-genus of erythroxylon ( / . no doubt sethia.) is dimorphic in ceylon, and oxalis with you and at the cape of good hope. if you can find a dimorphic oxalis it will be a new point, for all known species are trimorphic or monomorphic. the case of convolvulus will be new, if proved. i am doubtful about gesneria ( / . neither convolvulus nor gesneria have been shown to be dimorphic.), and have been often myself deceived by varying length of pistil. a difference in the size of the pollen-grains would be conclusive evidence; but in some cases experiments by fertilisation can alone decide the point. as yet i know of no case of dimorphism in flowers which are very irregular; such flowers being apparently always sufficiently visited and crossed by insects. letter . to f. muller. down, april nd [ ]. i am very sorry your papers on climbing plants never reached you. they must be lost, but i put the stamps on myself and i am sure they were right. i despatched on the th all the remaining copies, except one for myself. your letter of march th contained much interesting matter, but i have to say this of all your letters. i am particularly glad to hear that oncidium flexuosum ( / . see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page . observations on oncidium were made by john scott, and in brazil by f. muller, who "fertilised above one hundred flowers of the above-mentioned oncidium flexuosum, which is there endemic, with its own pollen, and with that taken from distinct plants: all the former were sterile, whilst those fertilised by pollen from any other plant of the same species were fertile.') is endemic, for i always thought that the cases of self-sterility with orchids in hot-houses might have been caused by their unnatural conditions. i am glad, also, to hear of the other analogous cases, all of which i will give briefly in my book that is now printing. the lessened number of good seeds in the self-fertilising epidendrums is to a certain extent a new case. you suggest the comparison of the growth of plants produced from self-fertilised and crossed seeds. i began this work last autumn, and the result, in some cases, has been very striking; but only, as far as i can yet judge, with exotic plants which do not get freely crossed by insects in this country. in some of these cases it is really a wonderful physiological fact to see the difference of growth in the plants produced from self-fertilised and crossed seeds, both produced by the same parent-plant; the pollen which has been used for the cross having been taken from a distinct plant that grew in the same flower-pot. many thanks for the dimorphic rubiaceous plant. three of your plumbagos have germinated, but not as yet any of the lobelias. have you ever thought of publishing a work which might contain miscellaneous observations on all branches of natural history, with a short description of the country and of any excursions which you might take? i feel certain that you might make a very valuable and interesting book, for every one of your letters is so full of good observations. such books, for instance bates' "travels on the amazons," are very popular in england. i will give your obliging offer about brazilian plants to dr. hooker, who was to have come here to-day, but has failed. he is an excellent good fellow, as well as naturalist. he has lately published a pamphlet, which i think you would like to read; and i will try and get a copy and send you. ( / . sir j.d. hooker's lecture on insular floras, given before the british association in august, , is doubtless referred to. it appeared in the "gardeners' chronicle," and was published as a pamphlet in january, . this fact helps to fix the date of the present letter.) letter . to f. muller. ( / . the following refers to the curious case of eschscholtzia described in "cross and self-fertilisation," pages - . the offspring of english plants after growing for two generations in brazil became self-sterile, while the offspring of brazilian plants became partly self-fertile in england.) january th [ ]. ...the flowers of eschscholtzia when crossed with pollen from a distinct plant produced per cent. of capsules; when self-fertilised the flowers produced only per cent. of capsules. an equal number of crossed and self-fertilised capsules contained seed by weight in the proportion of to . nevertheless, the self-fertilised flowers produced an abundance of seed. i enclose a few crossed seeds in hopes that you will raise a plant, cover it with a net, and observe whether it is self-fertile; at the same time allowing several uncovered plants to produce capsules, for the sterility formerly observed by you seems to me very curious. letter . to f. muller. down, november th [ ]. you end your letter of september th by saying that it is a very dull one; indeed, you make a very great mistake, for it abounds with interesting facts and thoughts. your account of the tameness of the birds which apparently have wandered from the interior, is very curious. but i must begin on another subject: there has been a great and very vexatious, but unavoidable delay in the publication of your book. ( / . "facts and arguments for darwin," , a translation by the late mr. dallas of f. muller's "fur darwin," : see volume i., letter .) prof. huxley agrees with me that mr. dallas is by far the best translator, but he is much overworked and had not quite finished the translation about a fortnight ago. he has charge of the museum at york, and is now trying to get the situation of assistant secretary at the geological society; and all the canvassing, etc., and his removal, if he gets the place, will, i fear, cause more than a month's delay in the completion of the translation; and this i very much regret. i am particularly glad to hear that you intend to repeat my experiments on illegitimate offspring, for no one's observations can be trusted until repeated. you will find the work very troublesome, owing to the death of plants and accidents of all kinds. some dimorphic plant will probably prove too sterile for you to raise offspring; and others too fertile for much sterility to be expected in their offspring. primula is bad on account of the difficulty of deciding which seeds may be considered as good. i have earnestly wished that some one would repeat these experiments, but i feared that years would elapse before any one would take the trouble. i received your paper on bignonia in "bot. zeit." and it interested me much. ( / . see "variation of animals and plants," edition ii., volume ii., page . fritz muller's paper, "befruchtungsversuche an cipo alho (bignonia)," "botanische zeitung," september th, , page , contains an interesting foreshadowing of the generalisation arrived at in "cross and self-fertilisation." muller wrote: "are the three which grow near each other seedlings from the same mother-plant or perhaps from seeds of the same capsule? or have they, from growing in the same place and under the same conditions, become so like each other that the pollen of one has hardly any more effect on the others than their own pollen? or, on the contrary, were the plants originally one--i.e., are they suckers from a single stock, which have gained a slight degree of mutual fertility in the course of an independent life? or, lastly, is the result 'ein neckische zufall,'" (the above is a free translation of muller's words.)) i am convinced that if you can prove that a plant growing in a distant place under different conditions is more effective in fertilisation than one growing close by, you will make a great step in the essence of sexual reproduction. prof. asa gray and dr. hooker have been staying here, and, oddly enough, they knew nothing of your paper on martha ( / . f. muller has described ("bot. zeitung," , page ) the explosive mechanism by which the pollen is distributed in martha (posoqueria) fragrans. he also gives an account of the remarkable arrangement for ensuring cross-fertilisation. see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page .), though the former was aware of the curious movements of the stamens, but so little understood the structure of the plant that he thought it was probably a dimorphic species. accordingly, i showed them your drawings and gave them a little lecture, and they were perfectly charmed with your account. hildebrand ( / . see letter , volume i.) has repeated his experiments on potatoes, and so have i, but this summer with no result. letter . to f. muller. down, march th [ ]. i received some time ago a very interesting letter from you with many facts about oxalis, and about the non-seeding and spreading of one species. i may mention that our common o. acetosella varies much in length of pistils and stamens, so that i at first thought it was certainly dimorphic, but proved it by experiment not to be so. boiseria ( / . this perhaps refers to boissiera (ladizabala).) has after all seeded well with me when crossed by opposite form, but very sparingly when self-fertilised. your case of faramea astonishes me. ( / . see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page . faramea is placed among the dimorphic species.) are you sure there is no mistake? the difference in size of flower and wonderful difference in size and structure of pollen-grains naturally make me rather sceptical. i never fail to admire and to be surprised at the number of points to which you attend. i go on slowly at my next book, and though i never am idle, i make but slow progress; for i am often interrupted by being unwell, and my subject of sexual selection has grown into a very large one. i have also had to correct a new edition of my "origin," ( / . the th edition.), and this has taken me six weeks, for science progresses at railroad speed. i cannot tell you how rejoiced i am that your book is at last out; for whether it sells largely or not, i am certain it will produce a great effect on all capable judges, though these are few in number. p.s.--i have just received your letter of january th. i am greatly interested by what you say on eschscholtzia; i wish your plants had succeeded better. it seems pretty clear that the species is much more self-sterile under the climate of brazil than here, and this seems to me an important result. ( / . see letter .) i have no spare seeds at present, but will send for some from the nurseryman, which, though not so good for our purpose, will be worth trying. i can send some of my own in the autumn. you could simply cover up separately two or three single plants, and see if they will seed without aid,--mine did abundantly. very many thanks for seeds of oxalis: how i wish i had more strength and time to carry on these experiments, but when i write in the morning, i have hardly heart to do anything in the afternoon. your grass is most wonderful. you ought to send account to the "bot. zeitung." could you not ascertain whether the barbs are sensitive, and how soon they become spiral in the bud? your bird is, i have no doubt, the molothrus mentioned in my "journal of travels," page , as representing a north american species, both with cuckoo-like habits. i know that seeds from same spike transmitted to a certain extent their proper qualities; but as far as i know, no one has hitherto shown how far this holds good, and the fact is very interesting. the experiment would be well worth trying with flowers bearing different numbers of petals. your explanation agrees beautifully with the hypothesis of pangenesis, and delights me. if you try other cases, do draw up a paper on the subject of inheritance of separate flowers for the "bot. zeitung" or some journal. most men, as far as my experience goes, are too ready to publish, but you seem to enjoy making most interesting observations and discoveries, and are sadly too slow in publishing. letter . to f. muller. barmouth, july th, . i received your last letter shortly before leaving home for this place. owing to this cause and to having been more unwell than usual i have been very dilatory in writing to you. when i last heard, about six or eight weeks ago, from mr. murray, one hundred copies of your book had been sold, and i daresay five hundred may now be sold. ( / . "facts and arguments for darwin," : see volume i., letter .) this will quite repay me, if not all the money; for i am sure that your book will have got into the hands of a good many men capable of understanding it: indeed, i know that it has. but it is too deep for the general public. i sent you two or three reviews--one of which, in the "athenaeum," was unfavourable; but this journal has abused me, and all who think with me, for many years. ( / . "athenaeum," , page .) i enclose two more notices, not that they are worth sending: some other brief notices have appeared. the case of the abitulon sterile with some individuals is remarkable ( / . "bestaubungsversuche an abutilon-arten." "jenaische zeitschr." vii., , page .): i believe that i had one plant of reseda odorata which was fertile with own pollen, but all that i have tried since were sterile except with pollen from some other individual. i planted the seeds of the abitulon, but i fear that they were crushed in the letter. your eschscholtzia plants were growing well when i left home, to which place we shall return by the end of this month, and i will observe whether they are self-sterile. i sent your curious account of the monstrous begonia to the linnean society, and i suppose it will be published in the "journal." ( / . "on the modification of the stamens in a species of begonia." "journ. linn. soc." xi., , page .) i sent the extract about grafted orange trees to the "gardeners' chronicle," where it appeared. i have lately drawn up some notes for a french translation of my orchis book: i took out your letters to make an abstract of your numerous discussions, but i found i had not strength or time to do so, and this caused me great regret. i have [in the french edition] alluded to your work, which will also be published in english, as you will see in my paper, and which i will send you. ( / . "notes on the fertilisation of orchids." "ann. mag. nat. hist." , volume iv., page . the paper gives an english version of the notes prepared for the french edition of the orchid book.) p.s.--by an odd chance, since i wrote the beginning of this letter, i have received one from dr. hooker, who has been reading "fur darwin": he finds that he has not knowledge enough for the first part; but says that chapters x. and xi. "strike me as remarkably good." he is also particularly struck with one of your highly suggestive remarks in the note to page . assuredly all who read your book will greatly profit by it, and i rejoice that it has appeared in english. letter . to f. muller. down, december st [ ]. i am much obliged for your letter of october th, with the curious account of abutilon, and for the seeds. a friend of mine, mr. farrer, has lately been studying the fertilisation of passiflora ( / . see letters and .), and concluded from the curiously crooked passage into the nectary that it could not be fertilised by humming-birds; but that tacsonia was thus fertilised. therefore i sent him the passage from your letter, and i enclose a copy of his answer. if you are inclined to gratify him by making a few observations on this subject i shall be much obliged, and will send them on to him. i enclose a copy of my rough notes on your eschscholtzia, as you might like to see them. somebody has sent me from germany two papers by you, one with a most curious account of alisma ( / . see letter .), and the other on crustaceans. your observations on the branchiae and heart have interested me extremely. alex. agassiz has just paid me a visit with his wife. he has been in england two or three months, and is now going to tour over the continent to see all the zoologists. we liked him very much. he is a great admirer of yours, and he tells me that your correspondence and book first made him believe in evolution. this must have been a great blow to his father, who, as he tells me, is very well, and so vigorous that he can work twice as long as he (the son) can. dr. meyer has sent me his translation of wallace's "malay archipelago," which is a valuable work; and as i have no use for the translation, i will this day forward it to you by post, but, to save postage, via england. letter . to f. muller. down, may th [ ]. i thank you for your two letters of december th and march th, both abounding with curious facts. i have been particularly glad to hear in your last about the eschscholtzia ( / . see letter .); for i am now rearing crossed and self-fertilised plants, in antagonism to each other, from your semi-sterile plants so that i may compare this comparative growth with that of the offspring of english fertile plants. i have forwarded your postscript about passiflora, with the seeds, to mr. farrer, who i am sure will be greatly obliged to you; the turning up of the pendant flower plainly indicates some adaptation. when i next go to london i will take up the specimens of butterflies, and show them to mr. butler, of the british museum, who is a learned lepidopterist and interested on the subject. this reminds me to ask you whether you received my letter [asking] about the ticking butterfly, described at page of my "journal of researches"; viz., whether the sound is in anyway sexual? perhaps the species does not inhabit your island. ( / . papilio feronia, a brazilian species capable of making "a clicking noise, similar to that produced by a toothed wheel passing under a spring catch."--"journal," , page .) the case described in your last letter of the trimorphic monocotyledon pontederia is grand. ( / . this case interested darwin as the only instance of heterostylism in monocotyledons. see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page . f. muller's paper is in the "jenaische zeitschrift," .) i wonder whether i shall ever have time to recur to this subject; i hope i may, for i have a good deal of unpublished material. thank you for telling me about the first-formed flower having additional petals, stamens, carpels, etc., for it is a possible means of transition of form; it seems also connected with the fact on which i have insisted of peloric flowers being so often terminal. as pelorism is strongly inherited (and [i] have just got a curious case of this in a leguminous plant from india), would it not be worth while to fertilise some of your early flowers having additional organs with pollen from a similar flower, and see whether you could not make a race thus characterised? ( / . see letters , . also "variation under domestication," edition ii., volume i., pages - .) some of your abutilons have germinated, but i have been very unfortunate with most of your seed. you will remember having given me in a former letter an account of a very curious popular belief in regard to the subsequent progeny of asses, which have borne mules; and now i have another case almost exactly like that of lord morton's mare, in which it is said the shape of the hoofs in the subsequent progeny are affected. (pangenesis will turn out true some day!) ( / . see "animals and plants," edition ii., volume i., page . for recent work on telegony see ewart's "experimental investigations on telegony," "phil. trans. r. soc." . a good account of the subject is given in the "quarterly review," , page . see also letter , volume i.) a few months ago i received an interesting letter and paper from your brother, who has taken up a new and good line of investigation, viz., the adaptation in insects for the fertilisation of flowers. the only scientific man i have seen for several months is kolliker, who came here with gunther, and whom i liked extremely. i am working away very hard at my book on man and on sexual selection, but i do not suppose i shall go to press till late in the autumn. letter . to f. muller. down, january st, . no doubt i owe to your kindness two pamphlets received a few days ago, which have interested me in an extraordinary degree. ( / . this refers to f. muller's "bestaubungsversuche an abutilon-arten" in the "jenaische zeitschr." volume vii., which are thus referred to by darwin ("cross and self fert." pages - ): "fritz muller has shown by his valuable experiments on hybrid abutilons, that the union of brothers and sisters, parents and children, and of other near relations is highly injurious to the fertility of the offspring." the termite paper is in the same volume (viz., vii.) of the "jenaische zeitschr.") it is quite new to me what you show about the effects of relationship in hybrids--that is to say, as far as direct proof is concerned. i felt hardly any doubt on the subject, from the fact of hybrids becoming more fertile when grown in number in nursery gardens, exactly the reverse of what occurred with gartner. ( / . when many hybrids are grown together the pollination by near relatives is minimised.) the paper on termites is even still more interesting, and the analogy with cleistogene flowers is wonderful. ( / . on the back of his copy of muller's paper darwin wrote: "there exist imperfectly developed male and female termites, with wings much shorter than those of queen and king, which serve to continue the species if a fully developed king and queen do not after swarming (which no doubt is for an occasional cross) enter [the] nest. curiously like cleistogamic flowers.") the manner in which you refer to to my chapter on crossing is one of the most elegant compliments which i have ever received. i have directed to be sent to you belt's "nicaragua," which seems to me the best natural history book of travels ever published. pray look to what he says about the leaf-carrying ant storing the leaves up in a minced state to generate mycelium, on which he supposes that the larvae feed. now, could you open the stomachs of these ants and examine the contents, so as to prove or disprove this remarkable hypothesis? ( / . the hypothesis has been completely confirmed by the researches of moller, a nephew of f. muller's: see his "brasilische pilzblumen" ("botan. mittheilgn. aus den tropen," hrsg. von a.f.w. schimper, heft ).) letter . to f. muller. down, may th, . i have been particularly glad to receive your letter of march th on pontederia, for i am now printing a small book on heterostyled plants, and on some allied subjects. i feel sure you will not object to my giving a short account of the flowers of the new species which you have sent me. i am the more anxious to do so as a writer in the united states has described a species, and seems to doubt whether it is heterostyled, for he thinks the difference in the length of the pistil depends merely on its growth! in my new book i shall use all the information and specimens which you have sent me with respect to the heterostyled plants, and your published notices. one chapter will be devoted to cleistogamic species, and i will just notice your new grass case. my son francis desires me to thank you much for your kindness with respect to the plants which bury their seeds. i never fail to feel astonished, when i receive one of your letters, at the number of new facts you are continually observing. with respect to the great supposed subterranean animal, may not the belief have arisen from the natives having seen large skeletons embedded in cliffs? i remember finding on the banks of the parana a skeleton of a mastodon, and the gauchos concluded that it was a borrowing animal like the bizcacha. ( / . on the supposed existence in patagonia of a gigantic land-sloth, see "natural science," xiii., , page , where ameghino's discovery of the skin of neomylodon listai was practically first made known, since his privately published pamphlet was not generally seen. the animal was afterwards identified with a glossotherium, closely allied to owen's g. darwini, which has been named glossotherium listai or grypotherium domesticum. for a good account of the discoveries see smith woodward in "natural science," xv., , page , where the literature is given.) letter . to f. muller. down, may th [ ]. i wrote to you a few days ago to thank you about pontederia, and now i am going to ask you to add one more to the many kindnesses which you have done for me. i have made many observations on the waxy secretion on leaves which throw off water (e.g., cabbage, tropoeolum), and i am now going to continue my observations. does any sensitive species of mimosa grow in your neighbourhood? if so, will you observe whether the leaflets keep shut during long-continued warm rain. i find that the leaflets open if they are continuously syringed with water at a temperature of about deg c., but if the water is at a temperature of - deg c., they keep shut for more than two hours, and probably longer. if the plant is continuously shaken so as to imitate wind the leaflets soon open. how is this with the native plants during a windy day? i find that some other plants--for instance, desmodium and cassia--when syringed with water, place their leaves so that the drops fall quickly off; the position assumed differing somewhat from that in the so-called sleep. would you be so kind as to observe whether any [other] plants place their leaves during rain so as to shoot off the water; and if there are any such i should be very glad of a leaf or two to ascertain whether they are coated with a waxy secretion. ( / . see letters - .) there is another and very different subject, about which i intend to write, and should be very glad of a little information. are earthworms (lumbricus) common in s. brazil ( / . f. muller's reply is given in "vegetable mould," page .), and do they throw up on the surface of the ground numerous castings or vermicular masses such as we so commonly see in europe? are such castings found in the forests beneath the dead withered leaves? i am sure i can trust to your kindness to forgive me for asking you so many questions. letter . to f. muller. down, july th, . many thanks for the five kinds of seeds; all have germinated, and the cassia seedlings have interested me much, and i daresay that i shall find something curious in the other plants. nor have i alone profited, for sir j. hooker, who was here on sunday, was very glad of some of the seeds for kew. i am particularly obliged for the information about the earthworms. i suppose the soil in your forests is very loose, for in ground which has lately been dug in england the worms do not come to the surface, but deposit their castings in the midst of the loose soil. i have some grand plants (and i formerly sent seeds to kew) of the cleistogamic grass, but they show no signs of producing flowers of any kind as yet. your case of the panicle with open flowers being sterile is parallel to that of leersia oryzoides. i have always fancied that cross-fertilisation would perhaps make such panicles fertile. ( / . the meaning of this sentence is somewhat obscure. darwin apparently implies that the perfect flowers, borne on the panicles which occasionally emerge from the sheath, might be fertile if pollinated from another individual. see "forms of flowers," page .) i am working away as hard as i can at all the multifarious kinds of movements of plants, and am trying to reduce them to some simple rules, but whether i shall succeed i do not know. i have sent the curious lepidopteron case to mr. meldola. letter . f. muller to charles darwin. ( / . in november, , on receipt of an account of a flood in brazil from which fritz muller had barely escaped with his life ("life and letters," iii., ); darwin immediately wrote to hermann muller begging to be allowed to help in making good any loss in books or scientific instruments that his brother had sustained. it is this offer of help that is referred to in the first paragraph of the following letter: darwin repeats the offer in letter .) blumenau, sa catharina, brazil, january th, . i do not know how to express [to] you my deep heartfelt gratitude for the generous offer which you made to my brother on hearing of the late dreadful flood of the itajahy. from you, dear sir, i should have accepted assistance without hesitation if i had been in need of it; but fortunately, though we had to leave our house for more than a week, and on returning found it badly damaged, my losses have not been very great. i must thank you also for your wonderful book on the movements of plants, which arrived here on new year's day. i think nobody else will have been delighted more than i was with the results which you have arrived at by so many admirably conducted experiments and observations; since i observed the spontaneous revolving movement of alisma i had seen similar movements in so many and so different plants that i felt much inclined to consider spontaneous revolving movement or circumnutation as common to all plants and the movements of climbing plants as a special modification of that general phenomenon. and this you have now convincingly, nay, superabundantly, proved to be the case. i was much struck with the fact that with you maranta did not sleep for two nights after having its leaves violently shaken by wind, for here we have very cold nights only after storms from the west or south-west, and it would be very strange if the leaves of our numerous species of marantaceae should be prevented by these storms to assume their usual nocturnal position, just when nocturnal radiation was most to be feared. it is rather strange, also, that phaseolus vulgaris should not sleep during the early part of the summer, when the leaves are most likely to be injured during cold nights. on the contrary, it would not do any harm to many sub-tropical plants, that their leaves must be well illuminated during the day in order that they may assume at night a vertical position; for, in our climate at least, cold nights are always preceded by sunny days. of nearly allied plants sleeping very differently i can give you some more instances. in the genus olyra (at least, in the one species observed by me) the leaves bend down vertically at night; now, in endlicher's "genera plantarum" this genus immediately precedes strephium, the leaves of which you saw rising vertically. in one of two species of phyllanthus, growing as weeds near my house, the leaves of the erect branches bend upwards at night, while in the second species, with horizontal branches, they sleep like those of phyllanthus niruri or of cassia. in this second species the tips of the branches also are curled downwards at night, by which movement the youngest leaves are yet better protected. from their vertical nyctitropic position the leaves of this phyllanthus might return to horizontality, traversing deg, in two ways, either to their own or to the opposite side of the branch; on the latter way no rotation would be required, while on the former each leaf must rotate on its own axis in order that its upper surface may be turned upwards. thus the way to the wrong side appears to be even less troublesome. and indeed, in some rare cases i have seen three, four or even almost all the leaves of one side of a branch horizontally expanded on the opposite side, with their upper surfaces closely appressed to the lower surfaces of the leaves of that side. this phyllanthus agrees with cassia not only in its manner of sleeping, but also by its leaves being paraheliotropic. ( / . paraheliotropism is the movement by which some leaves temporarily direct their edges to the source of light. see "movements of plants," page .) like those of some cassiae its leaves take an almost perfectly vertical position, when at noon, on a summer day, the sun is nearly in the zenith; but i doubt whether this paraheliotropism will be observable in england. to-day, though continuing to be fully exposed to the sun, at p.m. the leaves had already returned to a nearly horizontal position. as soon as there are ripe seeds i will send you some; of our other species of phyllanthus i enclose a few seeds in this letter. in several species of hedychium the lateral halves of the leaves when exposed to bright sunshine, bend downwards so that the lateral margins meet. it is curious that a hybrid hedychium in my garden shows scarcely any trace of this paraheliotropism, while both the parent species are very paraheliotropic. might not the inequality of the cotyledons of citrus and of pachira be attributed to the pressure, which the several embryos enclosed in the same seed exert upon each other? i do not know pachira aquatica, but [in] a species, of which i have a tree in my garden, all the seeds are polyembryonic, and so were almost all the seeds of citrus which i examined. with coffea arabica also seeds including two embryos are not very rare; but i have not yet observed whether in this case the cotyledons be inequal. i repeated to-day duval-jouve's measurements on bryophyllum calycinum ( / . "power of movement in plants," page . f. muller's measurements show, however, that there is a tendency in the leaves to be more highly inclined at night than in the middle of the day, and so far they agree with duval-jouve's results.); but mine did not agree with his; they are as follows:-- distances in mm. between the tips of the upper pair of leaves. january th, a.m. p.m. p.m. st plant nd plant rd plant th plant th plant _______________________________________________ letter . to f. muller. down, february rd, . your letter has interested me greatly, as have so many during many past years. i thought that you would not object to my publishing in "nature" ( / . "nature," march rd, , page .) some of the more striking facts about the movements of plants, with a few remarks added to show the bearing of the facts. the case of the phyllanthus ( / . see letter .), which turns up its leaves on the wrong side, is most extraordinary and ought to be further investigated. do the leaflets sleep on the following night in the usual manner? do the same leaflets on successive nights move in the same strange manner? i was particularly glad to hear of the strongly marked cases of paraheliotropism. i shall look out with much interest for the publication about the figs. ( / . f. muller published on caprification in "kosmos," .) the creatures which you sketch are marvellous, and i should not have guessed that they were hymenoptera. thirty or forty years ago i read all that i could find about caprification, and was utterly puzzled. i suggested to dr. cruger in trinidad to investigate the wild figs, in relation to their cross-fertilisation, and just before he died he wrote that he had arrived at some very curious results, but he never published, as i believe, on the subject. i am extremely glad that the inundation did not so greatly injure your scientific property, though it would have been a real pleasure to me to have been allowed to have replaced your scientific apparatus. ( / . see letter .) i do not believe that there is any one in the world who admires your zeal in science and wonderful powers of observation more than i do. i venture to say this, as i feel myself a very old man, who probably will not last much longer. p.s.--with respect to phyllanthus, i think that it would be a good experiment to cut off most of the leaflets on one side of the petiole, as soon as they are asleep and vertically dependent; when the pressure is thus removed, the opposite leaflets will perhaps bend beyond their vertically dependent position; if not, the main petiole might be a little twisted so that the upper surfaces of the dependent and now unprotected leaflets should face obliquely the sky when the morning comes. in this case diaheliotropism would perhaps conquer the ordinary movements of the leaves when they awake, and [assume] their diurnal horizontal position. as the leaflets are alternate, and as the upper surface will be somewhat exposed to the dawning light, it is perhaps diaheliotropism which explains your extraordinary case. letter . to f. muller. down, april th, . i have delayed answering your last letter of february th, as i was just sending to the printers the ms. of a very little book on the habits of earthworms, of which i will of course send you a copy when published. i have been very much interested by your new facts on paraheliotropism, as i think that they justify my giving a name to this kind of movement, about which i long doubted. i have this morning drawn up an account of your observations, which i will send in a few days to "nature." ( / . "nature," , page . curious facts are given on the movements of cassia, phyllanthus, sp., desmodium sp. cassia takes up a sunlight position unlike its own characteristic night-position, but resembling rather that of haematoxylon (see "power of movement," figure , page ). one species of phyllanthus takes up in sunshine the nyctitropic attitude of another species. and the same sort of relation occurs in the genus bauhinia.) i have thought that you would not object to my giving precedence to paraheliotropism, which has been so little noticed. i will send you a copy of "nature" when published. i am glad that i was not in too great a hurry in publishing about lagerstroemia. ( / . lagerstraemia was doubtfully placed among the heterostyled plants ("forms of flowers," page ). f. muller's observations showed that a totally different interpretation of the two sizes of stamen is possible. namely, that one set serves merely to attract pollen-collecting bees, who in the act of visiting the flowers transfer the pollen of the longer stamens to other flowers. a case of this sort in heeria, a melastomad, was described by muller ("nature," august th, , page ), and the view was applied to the cases of lagerstroemia and heteranthera at a later date ("nature," , page ). see letters - .) i have procured some plants of melastomaceae, but i fear that they will not flower for two years, and i may be in my grave before i can repeat my trials. as far as i can imperfectly judge from my observations, the difference in colour of the anthers in this family depends on one set of anthers being partially aborted. i wrote to kew to get plants with differently coloured anthers, but i learnt very little, as describers of dried plants do not attend to such points. i have, however, sowed seeds of two kinds, suggested to me as probable. i have, therefore, been extremely glad to receive the seeds of heteranthera reniformis. as far as i can make out it is an aquatic plant; and whether i shall succeed in getting it to flower is doubtful. will you be so kind as to send me a postcard telling me in what kind of station it grows. in the course of next autumn or winter, i think that i shall put together my notes (if they seem worth publishing) on the use or meaning of "bloom" ( / . see letters - .), or the waxy secretion which makes some leaves glaucous. i think that i told you that my experiments had led me to suspect that the movement of the leaves of mimosa, desmodium and cassia, when shaken and syringed, was to shoot off the drops of water. if you are caught in heavy rain, i should be very much obliged if you would keep this notion in your mind, and look to the position of such leaves. you have such wonderful powers of observation that your opinion would be more valued by me than that of any other man. i have among my notes one letter from you on the subject, but i forget its purport. i hope, also, that you may be led to follow up your very ingenious and novel view on the two-coloured anthers or pollen, and observe which kind is most gathered by bees. letter . to f. muller. [patterdale], june st, . i should be much obliged if you could without much trouble send me seeds of any heterostyled herbaceous plants (i.e. a species which would flower soon), as it would be easy work for me to raise some illegitimate seedlings to test their degree of infertility. the plant ought not to have very small flowers. i hope that you received the copies of "nature," with extracts from your interesting letters ( / . "nature," march rd, , volume xxiii., page , contains a letter from c. darwin on "movements of plants," with extracts from fritz muller's letter. another letter, "on the movements of leaves," was published in "nature," april th, , page , with notes on leaf-movements sent to darwin by muller.), and i was glad to see a notice in "kosmos" on phyllanthus. ( / . "verirrte blatter," by fritz muller ("kosmos," volume v., page , ). in this article an account is given of a species of phyllanthus, a weed in muller's garden. see letter .) i am writing this note away from my home, but before i left i had the satisfaction of seeing phyllanthus sleeping. some of the seeds which you so kindly sent me would not germinate, or had not then germinated. i received a letter yesterday from dr. breitenbach, and he tells me that you lost many of your books in the desolating flood from which you suffered. forgive me, but why should you not order, through your brother hermann, books, etc., to the amount of pounds, and i would send a cheque to him as soon as i heard the exact amount? this would be no inconvenience to me; on the contrary, it would be an honour and lasting pleasure to me to have aided you in your invaluable scientific work to this small and trifling extent. ( / . see letter , also "life and letters," iii., page .) letter . to f. muller. ( / . the following extract from a letter to f. muller shows what was the nature of darwin's interest in the effect of carbonate of ammonia on roots, etc. he was, we think, wrong in adhering to the belief that the movements of aggregated masses are of an amoeboid nature. the masses change shape, just as clouds do under the moulding action of the wind. in the plant cell the moulding agent is the flowing protoplasm, but the masses themselves are passive.) september th, . perhaps you may remember that i described in "insectivorous plants" a really curious phenomenon, which i called the aggregation of the protoplasm in the cells of the tentacles. none of the great german botanists will admit that the moving masses are composed of protoplasm, though it is astonishing to me that any one could watch the movement and doubt its nature. but these doubts have led me to observe analogous facts, and i hope to succeed in proving my case. letter . to f. muller. down, november th, . i received a few days ago a small box (registered) containing dried flower-heads with brown seeds somewhat sculptured on the sides. there was no name, and i should be much obliged if some time you would tell me what these seeds are. i have planted them. i sent you some time ago my little book on earthworms, which, though of no importance, has been largely read in england. i have little or nothing to tell you about myself. i have for a couple of months been observing the effects of carbonate of ammonia on chlorophyll and on the roots of certain plants ( / . published under the title "the action of carbonate of ammonia on the roots of certain plants and on chlorophyll bodies," "linn. soc. journ." xix., , pages - , - .), but the subject is too difficult for me, and i cannot understand the meaning of some strange facts which i have observed. the mere recording new facts is but dull work. professor wiesner has published a book ( / . see letter .), giving a different explanation to almost every fact which i have given in my "power of movement in plants." i am glad to say that he admits that almost all my statements are true. i am convinced that many of his interpretations of the facts are wrong, and i am glad to hear that professor pfeffer is of the same opinion; but i believe that he is right and i wrong on some points. i have not the courage to retry all my experiments, but i hope to get my son francis to try some fresh ones to test wiesner's explanations. but i do not know why i have troubled you with all this. letter . to f. muller. [ , bryanston street], december th, . i hope that you may find time to go on with your experiments on such plants as lagerstroemia, mentioned in your letter of october th, for i believe you will arrive at new and curious results, more especially if you can raise two sets of seedlings from the two kinds of pollen. many thanks for the facts about the effect of rain and mud in relation to the waxy secretion. i have observed many instances of the lower side being protected better than the upper side, in the case, as i believe, of bushes and trees, so that the advantage in low-growing plants is probably only an incidental one. ( / . the meaning is here obscure: it appears to us that the significance of bloom on the lower surface of the leaves of both trees and herbs depends on the frequency with which all or a majority of the stomata are on the lower surface--where they are better protected from wet (even without the help of bloom) than on the exposed upper surface. on the correlation between bloom and stomata, see francis darwin "linn. soc. journ." xxii., page .) as i am writing away from my home, i have been unwilling to try more than one leaf of the passiflora, and this came out of the water quite dry on the lower surface and quite wet on the upper. i have not yet begun to put my notes together on this subject, and do not at all know whether i shall be able to make much of it. the oddest little fact which i have observed is that with trifolium resupinatum, one half of the leaf (i think the right-hand side, when the leaf is viewed from the apex) is protected by waxy secretion, and not the other half ( / . in the above passage "leaf" should be "leaflet": for a figure of trifolium resupinatum see letter .); so that when the leaf is dipped into water, exactly half the leaf comes out dry and half wet. what the meaning of this can be i cannot even conjecture. i read last night your very interesting article in "kosmos" on crotalaria, and so was very glad to see the dried leaves sent by you: it seems to me a very curious case. i rather doubt whether it will apply to lupinus, for, unless my memory deceives me, all the leaves of the same plant sometimes behaved in the same manner; but i will try and get some of the same seeds of the lupinus, and sow them in the spring. old age, however, is telling on me, and it troubles me to have more than one subject at a time on hand. ( / . in a letter to f. muller (september , ) occurs a sentence which may appropriately close this series: "i often feel rather ashamed of myself for asking for so many things from you, and for taking up so much of your valuable time, but i can assure you that i feel grateful.") .xi.iii. miscellaneous, - . letter . to g. bentham. down, april nd, . i have been extremely much pleased by your letter, and i take it as a very great compliment that you should have written to me at such length...i am not at all surprised that you cannot digest pangenesis: it is enough to give any one an indigestion; but to my mind the idea has been an immense relief, as i could not endure to keep so many large classes of facts all floating loose in my mind without some thread of connection to tie them together in a tangible method. with respect to the men who have recently written on the crossing of plants, i can at present remember only hildebrand, fritz muller, delpino, and g. henslow; but i think there are others. i feel sure that hildebrand is a very good observer, for i have read all his papers, and during the last twenty years i have made unpublished observations on many of the plants which he describes. [most of the criticisms which i sometimes meet with in french works against the frequency of crossing i am certain are the result of mere ignorance. i have never hitherto found the rule to fail that when an author describes the structure of a flower as specially adapted for self-fertilisation, it is really adapted for crossing. the fumariaceae offer a good instance of this, and treviranus threw this order in my teeth; but in corydalis hildebrand shows how utterly false the idea of self-fertilisation is. this author's paper on salvia ( / . hildebrand, "pringsheim's jahrbucher," iv.) is really worth reading, and i have observed some species, and know that he is accurate]. ( / . the passage within [] was published in the "life and letters," iii., page .) judging from a long review in the "bot. zeitung", and from what i know of some the plants, i believe delpino's article especially on the apocynaea, is excellent; but i cannot read italian. ( / . hildebrand's paper in the "bot. zeitung," , refers to delpino's work on the asclepiads, apocyneae and other orders.) perhaps you would like just to glance at such pamphlets as i can lay my hands on, and therefore i will send them, as if you do not care to see them you can return them at once; and this will cause you less trouble than writing to say you do not care to see them. with respect to primula, and one point about which i feel positive is that the bardfield and common oxlips are fundamentally distinct plants, and that the common oxlip is a sterile hybrid. ( / . for a general account of the bardfield oxlip (primula elatior) see miller christy, "linn. soc. journ." volume xxxiii., page , .) i have never heard of the common oxlip being found in great abundance anywhere, and some amount of difference in number might depend on so small a circumstance as the presence of some moth which habitually sucked the primrose and cowslip. to return to the subject of crossing: i am experimenting on a very large scale on the difference in power and growth between plants raised from self-fertilised and crossed seeds, and it is no exaggeration to say that the difference in growth and vigour is sometimes truly wonderful. lyell, huxley, and hooker have seen some of my plants, and been astonished; and i should much like to show them to you. i always supposed until lately that no evil effects would be visible until after several generations of self-fertilisation, but now i see that one generation sometimes suffices, and the existence of dimorphic plants and all the wonderful contrivances of orchids are quite intelligible to me. letter . to t.h. farrer (lord farrer). down, june th, . i must write a line to cry peccavi. i have seen the action in ophrys exactly as you describe, and am thoroughly ashamed of my inaccuracy. ( / . see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page , where lord farrer's observations on the movement of the pollinia in ophrys muscifera are given.) i find that the pollinia do not move if kept in a very damp atmosphere under a glass; so that it is just possible, though very improbable, that i may have observed them during a very damp day. i am not much surprised that i overlooked the movement in habenaria, as it takes so long. ( / . this refers to peristylus viridis, sometimes known as habenaria viridis. lord farrer's observations are given in "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., page .) i am glad you have seen listera; it requires to be seen to believe in the co-ordination in the position of the parts, the irritability, and the chemical nature of the viscid fluid. this reminds me that i carefully described to huxley the shooting out of the pollinia in catasetum, and received for an answer, "do you really think that i can believe all that!" ( / . see letter .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december nd, . it is a splendid scheme, and if you make only a beginning on a "flora," which shall serve as an index to all papers on curious points in the life-history of plants, you will do an inestimable good service. quite recently i was asked by a man how he could find out what was known on various biological points in our plants, and i answered that i knew of no such book, and that he might ask half a dozen botanists before one would chance to remember what had been published on this or that point. not long ago another man, who had been experimenting on the quasi-bulbs on the leaves of cardamine, wrote to me to complain that he could not find out what was known on the subject. it is almost certain that some early or even advanced students, if they found in their "flora" a line or two on various curious points, with references for further investigation, would be led to make further observations. for instance, a reference to the viscid threads emitted by the seeds of compositae, to the apparatus (if it has been described) by which oxalis spurts out its seeds, to the sensitiveness of the young leaves of oxalis acetosella with reference to o. sensitiva. under lathyrus nissolia it would [be] better to refer to my hypothetical explanation of the grass-like leaves than to nothing. ( / . no doubt the view given in "climbing plants," page , that l. nissolia has been evolved from a form like l. aphaca.) under a twining plant you might say that the upper part of the shoot steadily revolves with or against the sun, and so, when it strikes against any object it turns to the right or left, as the case may be. if, again, references were given to the parasitism of euphrasia, etc., how likely it would be that some young man would go on with the investigation; and so with endless other facts. i am quite enthusiastic about your idea; it is a grand idea to make a "flora" a guide for knowledge already acquired and to be acquired. i have amused myself by speculating what an enormous number of subjects ought to be introduced into a eutopian ( / . a mis-spelling of utopian.) flora, on the quickness of the germination of the seeds, on their means of dispersal; on the fertilisation of the flower, and on a score of other points, about almost all of which we are profoundly ignorant. i am glad to read what you say about bentham, for my inner consciousness tells me that he has run too many forms together. should you care to see an elaborate german pamphlet by hermann muller on the gradation and distinction of the forms of epipactis and of platanthera? ( / . "verhand. d. nat. ver. f. pr. rh. u. wesfal." jahrg. xxv.: see "fertilisation of orchids," edition ii., pages , .) it may be absurd in me to suggest, but i think you would find curious facts and references in lecoq's enormous book ( / . "geographie botanique," volumes, - .), in vaucher's four volumes ( / . "plantes d'europe," volumes, .), in hildebrand's "geschlechter vertheilung" ( / "geschlechter vertheilung bei den pflanzen," volume, leipzig, .), and perhaps in fournier's "de la fecondation." ( / . "de la fecondation dans les phanerogames," par eugene fournier: thesis published in paris in . the facts noted in darwin's copy are the explosive stamens of parietaria, the submerged flowers of alisma containing air, the manner of fertilisation of lopezia, etc.) i wish you all success in your gigantic undertaking; but what a pity you did not think of it ten years ago, so as to have accumulated references on all sorts of subjects. depend upon it, you will have started a new era in the floras of various countries. i can well believe that mrs. hooker will be of the greatest possible use to you in lightening your labours and arranging your materials. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december th, . ...now i want to beg for assistance for the new edition of "origin." nageli himself urges that plants offer many morphological differences, which from being of no service cannot have been selected, and which he accounts for by an innate principle of progressive development. ( / . nageli's "enstehung und begriff der naturhistorischen art." an address delivered at the public session of the royal academy of sciences of munich, march th, ; published by the academy. darwin's copy is the nd edition; it bears signs, in the pencilled notes on the margins, of having been read with interest. much of it was translated for him by a german lady, whose version lies with the original among his pamphlets. at page nageli writes: "it is remarkable that the useful adaptations which darwin brings forward in the case of animals, and which may be discovered in numbers among plants, are exclusively of a physiological kind, that they always show the formation or transformation of an organ to a special function. i do not know among plants a morphological modification which can be explained on utilitarian principles." opposite this passage darwin has written "a very good objection": but nageli's sentence seems to us to be of the nature of a truism, for it is clear that any structure whose evolution can be believed to have come about by natural selection must have a function, and the case falls into the physiological category. the various meanings given to the term morphological makes another difficulty. nageli cannot use it in the sense of "structural"--in which sense it is often applied, since that would mean that no plant structures have a utilitarian origin. the essence of morphology (in the better and more precise sense) is descent; thus we say that a pollen-grain is morphologically a microspore. and this very example serves to show the falseness of nageli's view, since a pollen-grain is an adaptation to aerial as opposed to aquatic fertilisation. in the th edition of the "origin," , page , darwin discusses nageli's essay, confining himself to the simpler statement that there are many structural characters in plants to which we cannot assign uses. see volume i., letter .) i find old notes about this difficulty; but i have hitherto slurred it over. nageli gives as instances the alternate and spiral arrangement of leaves, and the arrangement of the cells in the tissues. would you not consider as a morphological difference the trimerous, tetramerous, etc., divisions of flowers, the ovules being erect or suspended, their attachment being parietal or placental, and even the shape of the seed when of no service to the plant. now, i have thought, and want to show, that such differences follow in some unexplained manner from the growth or development of plants which have passed through a long series of adaptive changes. anyhow, i want to show that these differences do not support the idea of progressive development. cassini states that the ovaria on the circumference and centre of compos. flowers differ in essential characters, and so do the seeds in sculpture. the seeds of umbelliferae in the same relative positions are coelospermous and orthospermous. there is a case given by augt. st. hilaire of an erect and suspended ovule in the same ovarium, but perhaps this hardly bears on the point. the summit flower, in adoxa and rue differ from the lower flowers. what is the difference in flowers of the rue? how is the ovarium, especially in the rue? as augt. st. hilaire insists on the locularity of the ovarium varying on the same plant in some of the rutaceae, such differences do not speak, as it seems to me, in favour of progressive development. will you turn the subject in your mind, and tell me any more facts. difference in structure in flowers in different parts of the same plant seems best to show that they are the result of growth or position or amount of nutriment. i have got your photograph ( / . a photograph by mrs. cameron.) over my chimneypiece, and like it much; but you look down so sharp on me that i shall never be bold enough to wriggle myself out of any contradiction. owen pitches into me and lyell in grand style in the last chapter of volume of "anat. of vertebrates." he is a cool hand. he puts words from me in inverted commas and alters them. ( / . the passage referred to seems to be in owen's "anatomy of vertebrata," iii., pages , , note. "i deeply regretted, therefore, to see in a 'historical sketch' of the progress of enquiry into the origin of species, prefixed to the fourth edition of that work ( ), that mr. darwin, after affirming inaccurately and without evidence, that i admitted natural selection to have done something toward that end, to wit, the 'origin of species,' proceeds to remark: 'it is surprising that this admission should not have been made earlier, as prof. owen now believes that he promulgated the theory of natural selection in a passage read before the zoological society in february, , ("trans." volume iv., page ).'" the first of the two passages quoted by owen from the fourth edition of the "origin" runs: "yet he [prof. owen] at the same time admits that natural selection may [our italics] have done something towards this end." in the sixth edition of the "origin," page xviii., darwin, after referring to a correspondence in the "london review" between the editor of that journal and owen, goes on: "it appeared manifest to the editor, as well as to myself, that prof. owen claimed to have promulgated the theory of natural selection before i had done so;...but as far as it is possible to understand certain recently published passages (ibid. ["anat. of vert."], volume iii., page ), i have either partly or wholly again fallen into error. it is consolatory to me that others find prof. owen's controversial writings as difficult to understand and to reconcile with each other, as i do. as far as the mere enunciation of the principle of natural selection is concerned, it is quite immaterial whether or no prof. owen preceded me, for both of us, as shown in this historical sketch, were long ago preceded by dr. wells and mr. matthews.") letter . to j.d. hooker. down, december th, . your letter is quite invaluable, for nageli's essay ( / . see preceding letter.) is so clever that it will, and indeed i know it has produced a great effect; so that i shall devote three or four pages to an answer. i have been particularly struck by your statements about erect and suspended ovules. you have given me heart, and i will fight my battle better than i should otherwise have done. i think i cannot resist throwing the contrivances in orchids into his teeth. you say nothing about the flowers of the rue. ( / . for ruta see "origin," edition v., page .) ask your colleagues whether they know anything about the structure of the flower and ovarium in the uppermost flower. but don't answer on purpose. i have gone through my long index of "gardeners' chronicle," which was made solely for my own use, and am greatly disappointed to find, as i fear, hardly anything which will be of use to you. ( / . for hooker's projected biological book, see letter .) i send such as i have for the chance of their being of use. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, january th [ ]. your two notes and remarks are of the utmost value, and i am greatly obliged to you for your criticism on the term. "morphological" seems quite just, but i do not see how i can avoid using it. i found, after writing to you, in vaucher about the rue ( / . "plantes d'europe," volume i., page , .), but from what you say i will speak more cautiously. it is the spanish chesnut that varies in divergence. seeds named viola nana were sent me from calcutta by scott. i must refer to the plants as an "indian species," for though they have produced hundreds of closed flowers, they have not borne one perfect flower. ( / . the cleistogamic flowers of viola are used in the discussion on nageli's views. see "origin," edition v., page .) you ask whether i want illustrations "of ovules differing in position in different flowers on the same plant." if you know of such cases, i should certainly much like to hear them. again you speak of the angle of leaf-divergence varying and the variations being transmitted. was the latter point put in in a hurry to round the sentence, or do you really know of cases? whilst looking for notes on the variability of the divisions of the ovarium, position of the ovules, aestivation, etc., i found remarks written fifteen or twenty years ago, showing that i then supposed that characters which were nearly uniform throughout whole groups must be of high vital importance to the plants themselves; consequently i was greatly puzzled how, with organisms having very different habits of life, this uniformity could have been acquired through natural selection. now, i am much inclined to believe, in accordance with the view given towards the close of my ms., that the near approach to uniformity in such structures depends on their not being of vital importance, and therefore not being acted on by natural selection. ( / . this view is given in the "origin," edition vi., page .) if you have reflected on this point, what do you think of it? i hope that you approved of the argument deduced from the modifications in the small closed flowers. it is only about two years since last edition of "origin," and i am fairly disgusted to find how much i have to modify, and how much i ought to add; but i have determined not to add much. fleeming jenkin has given me much trouble, but has been of more real use to me than any other essay or review. ( / . on fleeming jenkin's review, "n. british review," june, , see "life and letters," iii., page .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down [january nd, ]. your letter is quite splenditious. i am greatly tempted, but shall, i hope, refrain from using some of your remarks in my chapter on classification. it is very true what you say about unimportant characters being so important systematically; yet it is hardly paradoxical bearing in mind that the natural system is genetic, and that we have to discover the genealogies anyhow. hence such parts as organs of generation are so useful for classification though not concerned with the manner of life. hence use for same purpose of rudimentary organs, etc. you cannot think what a relief it is that you do not object to this view, for it removes partly a heavy burden from my shoulders. if i lived twenty more years and was able to work, how i should have to modify the "origin," and how much the views on all points will have to be modified! well, it is a beginning, and that is something... letter . to t.h. farrer (lord farrer). down, august th, . your view seems most ingenious and probable; but ascertain in a good many cases that the nectar is actually within the staminal tube. ( / . it seems that darwin did not know that the staminal tube in the diadelphous leguminosae serves as a nectar-holder, and this is surprising, as sprengel was aware of the fact.) one can see that if there is to be a split in the tube, the law of symmetry would lead it to be double, and so free one stamen. your view, if confirmed, would be extremely well worth publication before the linnean society. it is to me delightful to see what appears a mere morphological character found to be of use. it pleases me the more as carl nageli has lately been pitching into me on this head. hooker, with whom i discussed the subject, maintained that uses would be found for lots more structures, and cheered me by throwing my own orchids into my teeth. ( / . see letters - .) all that you say about changed position of the peduncle in bud, in flower, and in seed, is quite new to me, and reminds me of analogous cases with tendrils. ( / . see vochting, "bewegung der bluthen und fruchte," ; also kerner, "pflanzenleben," volume i., page , volume ii., page .) this is well worth working out, and i dare say the brush of the stigma. with respect to the hairs or filaments (about which i once spoke) within different parts of flowers, i have a splendid tacsonia with perfectly pendent flowers, and there is only a microscopical vestige of the corona of coloured filaments; whilst in most common passion-flowers the flowers stand upright, and there is the splendid corona which apparently would catch pollen. ( / . sprengel ("entdeckte geheimniss," page ) imagined that the crown of the passion-flower served as a nectar-guide and as a platform for insects, while other rings of filaments served to keep rain from the nectar. f. muller, quoted in h. muller ("fertilisation," page ), looks at the crowns of hairs, ridges in some species, etc., as gratings serving to imprison flies which attract the fertilising humming-birds. there is, we believe, no evidence that the corona catches pollen. see letter , note.) on the lower side of corolla of foxglove there are some fine hairs, but these seem of not the least use ( / . it has been suggested that the hairs serve as a ladder for humble bees; also that they serve to keep out "unbidden guests.")--a mere purposeless exaggeration of down on outside--as i conclude after watching the bees at work, and afterwards covering up some plants; for the protected flowers rarely set any seed, so that the hairy lower part of corolla does not come into contact with stigma, as some frenchman says occurs with some other plants, as viola odorata and i think iris. i heartily wish i could accept your kind invitation, for i am not by nature a savage, but it is impossible. forgive my dreadful handwriting, none of my womenkind are about to act as amanuensis. letter . to william c. tait. ( / . mr. tait, to whom the following letter is addressed, was resident in portugal. his kindness in sending plants of drosophyllum lusitanicum is acknowledged in "insectivorous plants.") down, march th, . i have received your two letters of march nd and th, and i really do not know how to thank you enough for your extraordinary kindness and energy. i am glad to hear that the inhabitants notice the power of the drosophyllum to catch flies, for this is the subject of my studies. ( / . the natives are said to hang up plants of drosophyllum in their cottages to act as fly-papers ("insectivorous plants," page ).) i have observed during several years the manner in which this is effected, and the results produced in several species of drosera, and in the wonderful american dionoea, the leaves of which catch insects just like a steel rat-trap. hence i was most anxious to learn how the drosophyllum would act, so that the director of the royal gardens at kew wrote some years ago to portugal to obtain specimens for me, but quite failed. so you see what a favour you have conferred on me. with drosera it is nothing less than marvellous how minute a fraction of a grain of any nitrogenised matter the plant can detect; and how differently it behaves when matter, not containing nitrogen, of the same consistence, whether fluid or solid, is applied to the glands. it is also exquisitely sensitive to a weight of even the / of a grain. from what i can see of the glands on drosophyllum i suspect that i shall find only the commencement, or nascent state of the wonderful capacities of the drosera, and this will be eminently interesting to me. my ms. on this subject has been nearly ready for publication during some years, but when i shall have strength and time to publish i know not. and now to turn to other points in your letter. i am quite ignorant of ferns, and cannot name your specimen. the variability of ferns passes all bounds. with respect to your laugher pigeons, if the same with the two sub-breeds which i kept, i feel sure from the structure of the skeleton, etc., that it is a descendant of c. livia. in regard to beauty, i do not feel the difficulty which you and some others experience. in the last edition of my "origin" i have discussed the question, but necessarily very briefly. ( / . fourth edition, page .) a new and i hope amended edition of the "origin" is now passing through the press, and will be published in a month or two, and it will give me great pleasure to send you a copy. is there any place in london where parcels are received for you, or shall i send it by post? with reference to dogs' tails, no doubt you are aware that a rudimentary stump is regularly inherited by certain breeds of sheep-dogs, and by manx cats. you speak of a change in the position of the axis of the earth: this is a subject quite beyond me, but i believe the astronomers reject the idea. nevertheless, i have long suspected that some periodical astronomical or cosmical cause must be the agent of the incessant oscillations of level in the earth's crust. about a month ago i suggested this to a man well capable of judging, but he could not conceive any such agency; he promised, however, to keep it in mind. i wish i had time and strength to write to you more fully. i had intended to send this letter off at once, but on reflection will keep it till i receive the plants. letter . to h. muller. down, march th, . i think you have set yourself a new, very interesting, and difficult line of research. as far as i know, no one has carefully observed the structure of insects in relation to flowers, although so many have now attended to the converse relation. ( / . see letter , also h. muller, "fertilisation of flowers," english translation, page , on "the insects which visit flowers." in muller's book references are given to several of his papers on this subject.) as i imagine few or no insects are adapted to suck the nectar or gather the pollen of any single family of plants, such striking adaptations can hardly, i presume, be expected in insects as in flowers. letter . to t.h. farrer (lord farrer). down, may th, . i suppose i must have known that the stamens recovered their former position in berberis ( / . see farrer, "nature," ii., , page . lord farrer was before h. muller in making out the mechanism of the barberry.), for i formerly tried experiments with anaesthetics, but i had forgotten the facts, and i quite agree with you that it is a sound argument that the movement is not for self-fertilisation. the n. american barberries (mahonia) offer a good proof to what an extent natural crossing goes on in this genus; for it is now almost impossible in this country to procure a true specimen of the two or three forms originally introduced. i hope the seeds of passiflora will germinate, for the turning up of the pendent flower must be full of meaning. ( / . darwin had (may th, ) sent to farrer an extract from a letter from f. muller, containing a description of a passiflora visited by humming-birds, in which the long flower-stalk curls up so that "the flower itself is upright." another species visited by bees is described as having "dependent flowers." in a letter, june th, , mr. farrer had suggested that p. princeps, which he described as having sub-erect flowers, is fitted for humming-birds' visits. in another letter, october th, , he says that tacsonia, which has pendent flowers and no corona, is not fertilised by insects in english glass-houses, and may be adapted for humming-birds. see "life and letters," iii., page , for farrer's remarks on tacsonia and passiflora; also h. muller's "fertilisation of flowers," page , for what little is known on the subject; also letter in the present volume.) i am so glad that you are able to occupy yourself a little with flowers: i am sure it is most wise in you, for your own sake and children's sakes. some little time ago delpino wrote to me praising the swedish book on the fertilisation of plants; as my son george can read a little swedish, i should like to have it back for a time, just to hear a little what it is about, if you would be so kind as to return it by book-post. ( / . severin axell, "om anordningarna for de fanerogama vaxternas befruktning," stockholm, .) i am going steadily on with my experiments on the comparative growth of crossed and self-fertilised plants, and am now coming to some very curious anomalies and some interesting results. i forget whether i showed you any of them when you were here for a few hours. you ought to see them, as they explain at a glance why nature has taken such extraordinary pains to ensure frequent crosses between distinct individuals. if in the course of the summer you should feel any inclination to come here for a day or two, i hope that you will propose to do so, for we should be delighted to see you... letter . to asa gray. down, december th, . i have been very glad to receive your letter this morning. i have for some time been wishing to write to you, but have been half worked to death in correcting my uncouth english for my new book. ( / . "descent of man.") i have been glad to hear of your cases appearing like incipient dimorphism. i believe that they are due to mere variability, and have no significance. i found a good instance in nolana prostrata, and experimented on it, but the forms did not differ in fertility. so it was with amsinckia, of which you told me. i have long thought that such variations afforded the basis for the development of dimorphism. i was not aware of such cases in phlox, but have often admired the arrangement of the anthers, causing them to be all raked by an inserted proboscis. i am glad also to hear of your curious case of variability in ovules, etc. i said that i had been wishing to write to you, and this was about your drosera, which after many fluctuations between life and death, at last made a shoot which i could observe. the case is rather interesting; but i must first remind you that the filament of dionoea is not sensitive to very light prolonged pressure, or to nitrogenous matter, but is exquisitely sensitive to the slightest touch. ( / . in another connection the following reference to dionoea is of some interest: "i am sure i never heard of curtis's observations on dionoea, nor have i met with anything more than general statements about this plant or about nepenthes catching insects." (from a letter to sir j.d. hooker, july th, .)) in our drosera the filaments are not sensitive to a slight touch, but are sensitive to prolonged pressure from the smallest object of any nature; they are also sensitive to solid or fluid nitrogenous matter. now in your drosera the filaments are not sensitive to a rough touch or to any pressure from non-nitrogenous matter, but are sensitive to solid or fluid nitrogenous matter. ( / . drosera filiformis: see "insectivorous plants," page . the above account does not entirely agree with darwin's published statement. the filaments moved when bits of cork or cinder were placed on them; they did not, however, respond to repeated touches with a needle, thus behaving differently from d. rotundifolia. it should be remembered that the last-named species is somewhat variable in reacting to repeated touches.) is it not curious that there should be such diversified sensitiveness in allied plants? i received a very obliging letter from mr. morgan, but did not see him, as i think he said he was going to start at once for the continent. i am sorry to hear rather a poor account of mrs. gray, to whom my wife and i both beg to be very kindly remembered. letter . to c.v. riley. ( / . in riley's opinion his most important work was the series entitled "annual report on the noxious, beneficial, and other insects of the state of missouri" (jefferson city), beginning in . these reports were greatly admired by mr. darwin, and his copies of them, especially of nos. and , show signs of careful reading.) down, june st [ ]. i received some little time ago your report on noxious insects, and have now read the whole with the greatest interest. ( / . "third annual report on the noxious, beneficial, and other insects of the state of missouri" (jefferson city, mo.). the mimetic case occurs at page ; the pupae of pterophorus periscelidactylus, the "grapevine plume," have pupae either green or reddish brown, the former variety being found on the leaves, the latter on the brown stems of the vine.) there are a vast number of facts and generalisations of value to me, and i am struck with admiration at your powers of observation. the discussion on mimetic insects seems to me particularly good and original. pray accept my cordial thanks for the instruction and interest which i have received. what a loss to natural science our poor mutual friend walsh has been; it is a loss ever to be deplored... your country is far ahead of ours in some respects; our parliament would think any man mad who should propose to appoint a state entomologist. letter a. to c.v. riley. ( a/ . we have found it convenient to place the two letters to riley together, rather than separate them chronologically.) down, september th, . i must write half a dozen lines to say how much interested i have been by your "further notes" on pronuba which you were so kind as to send me. ( a/ . "proc. amer. assoc. adv. sci." .) i had read the various criticisms, and though i did not know what answer could be made, yet i felt full confidence in your result, and now i see that i was right...if you make any further observation on pronuba it would, i think, be well worth while for you to observe whether the moth can or does occasionally bring pollen from one plant to the stigma of a distinct one ( a/ . riley discovered the remarkable fact that the yucca moth (pronuba yuccasella) lays its eggs in the ovary of yucca flowers, which it has previously pollinated, thus making sure of a supply of ovules for the larvae.), for i have shown that the cross-fertilisation of the flowers on the same plant does very little good; and, if i am not mistaken, you believe that pronuba gathers pollen from the same flower which she fertilises. what interesting and beautiful observations you have made on the metamorphoses of the grasshopper-destroying insects. letter . to f. hildebrand. down, february th [ ]. owing to other occupations i was able to read only yesterday your paper on the dispersal of the seeds of compositae. ( / . "ueber die verbreitungsmittel der compositenfruchte." "bot. zeitung," , page .) some of the facts which you mention are extremely interesting. i write now to suggest as worthy of your examination the curious adhesive filaments of mucus emitted by the achenia of many compositae, of which no doubt you are aware. my attention was first called to the subject by the achenia of an australian pumilio (p. argyrolepis), which i briefly described in the "gardeners' chronicle," , page . as the threads of mucus dry and contract they draw the seeds up into a vertical position on the ground. it subsequently occurred to me that if these seeds were to fall on the wet hairs of any quadruped they would adhere firmly, and might be carried to any distance. i was informed that decaisne has written a paper on these adhesive threads. what is the meaning of the mucus so copiously emitted from the moistened seeds of iberis, and of at least some species of linum? does the mucus serve as a protection against their being devoured, or as a means of attachment. ( / . various theories have been suggested, e.g., that the slime by anchoring the seed to the soil facilitates the entrance of the radicle into the soil: the slime has also been supposed to act as a temporary water-store. see klebs in pfeffer's "untersuchungen aus dem bot. inst. zu tubingen," i., page .) i have been prevented reading your paper sooner by attempting to read dr. askenasy's pamphlet, but the german is too difficult for me to make it all out. ( / . e. askenasy, "beitrage zur kritik der darwin'schen lehre." leipzig, .) he seems to follow nageli completely. i cannot but think that both much underrate the utility of various parts of plants; and that they greatly underrate the unknown laws of correlated growth, which leads to all sorts of modifications, when some one structure or the whole plant is modified for some particular object. letter . to t.h. farrer. (lord farrer). ( / . the following letter refers to a series of excellent observations on the fertilisation of leguminosae, made by lord farrer in the autumn of , in ignorance of delpino's work on the subject. the result was published in "nature," october th and th, , and is full of interesting suggestions. the discovery of the mechanism in coronilla mentioned in a note was one of the cases in which lord farrer was forestalled.) down [ ]. i declare i am almost as sorry as if i had been myself forestalled--indeed, more so, for i am used to it. it is, however, a paramount, though bothersome duty in every naturalist to try and make out all that has been done by others on the subject. by all means publish next summer your confirmation and a summary of delpino's observations, with any new ones of your own. especially attend about the nectary exterior to the staminal tube. ( / . this refers to a species of coronilla in which lord farrer made the remarkable discovery that the nectar is secreted on the outside of the calyx. see "nature," july nd, , page ; also letter .) this will in every way be far better than writing to delpino. it would not be at all presumptuous in you to criticise delpino. i am glad you think him so clever; for so it struck me. look at hind legs yourself of some humble and hive-bees; in former take a very big individual (if any can be found) for these are the females, the males being smaller, and they have no pollen-collecting apparatus. i do not remember where it is figured--probably in kirby & spence--but actual inspection better... please do not return any of my books until all are finished, and do not hurry. i feel certain you will make fine discoveries. letter . to t.h. farrer. (lord farrer). sevenoaks, october th, . i must send you a line to say how extremely good your article appears to me to be. it is even better than i thought, and i remember thinking it very good. i am particularly glad of the excellent summary of evidence about the common pea, as it will do for me hereafter to quote; nocturnal insects will not do. i suspect that the aboriginal parent had bluish flowers. i have seen several times bees visiting common and sweet peas, and yet varieties, purposely grown close together, hardly ever intercross. this is a point which for years has half driven me mad, and i have discussed it in my "var. of animals and plants under dom." ( / . in the second edition ( ) of the "variation of animals and plants," volume i., page , darwin added, with respect to the rarity of spontaneous crosses in pisum: "i have reason to believe that this is due to their stignas being prematurely fertilised in this country by pollen from the same flower." this explanation is, we think, almost certainly applicable to lathyrus odoratus, though in darwin's latest publication on the subject he gives reasons to the contrary. see "cross and self-fertilisation," page , where the problem is left unsolved. compare letter to delpino. in "life and letters," iii., page , the absence of cross-fertilisation is explained as due to want of perfect adaptation between the pea and our native insects. this is hermann muller's view: see his "fertilisation of flowers," page . see letter , note.) i now suspect (and i wish i had strength to experimentise next spring) that from changed climate both species are prematurely fertilised, and therefore hardly ever cross. when artificially crossed by removal of own pollen in bud, the offspring are very vigorous. farewell.--i wish i could compel you to go on working at fertilisation instead of so insignificant a subject as the commerce of the country! you pay me a very pretty compliment at the beginning of your paper. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letters to sir j.d. hooker and the late mr. moggridge refer to moggridge's observation that seeds stored in the nest of the ant atta at mentone do not germinate, though they are certainly not dead. moggridge's observations are given in his book, "harvesting ants and trap-door spiders," , which is full of interesting details. the book is moreover remarkable in having resuscitated our knowledge of the existence of the seed-storing habit. mr. moggridge points out that the ancients were familiar with the facts, and quotes the well-known fable of the ant and the grasshopper, which la fontaine borrowed from aesop. mr. moggridge (page ) goes on: "so long as europe was taught natural history by southern writers the belief prevailed; but no sooner did the tide begin to turn, and the current of information to flood from north to south, than the story became discredited." in moggridge's "supplement" on the same subject, published in , the author gives an account of his experiments made at darwin's suggestion, and concludes (page ) that "the vapour of formic acid is incapable of rendering the seeds dormant after the manner of the ants," and that indeed "its influence is always injurious to the seeds, even when present only in excessively minute quantities." though unable to explain the method employed, he was convinced "that the non-germination of the seeds is due to some direct influence voluntarily exercised by the ants, and not merely to the conditions found in the nest" (page ). see volume i., letter .) down, february st [ ]. you have given me exactly the information which i wanted. geniuses jump. i have just procured formic acid to try whether its vapour or minute drops will delay germination of fresh seeds; trying others at same time for comparison. but i shall not be able to try them till middle of april, as my despotic wife insists on taking a house in london for a month from the middle of march. i am glad to hear of the primer ( / . "botany" (macmillan's science primers).); it is not at all, i think, a folly. do you know asa gray's child book on the functions of plants, or some such title? it is very good in giving an interest to the subject. by the way, can you lend me the january number of the "london journal of botany" for an article on insect-agency in fertilisation? letter . to j. traherne moggridge. down, august th, . i thank you for your very interesting letter, and i honour you for your laborious and careful experiments. no one knows till he tries how many unexpected obstacles arise in subjecting plants to experiments. i can think of no suggestions to make; but i may just mention that i had intended to try the effects of touching the dampened seeds with the minutest drop of formic acid at the end of a sharp glass rod, so as to imitate the possible action of the sting of the ant. i heartily hope that you may be rewarded by coming to some definite result; but i fail five times out of six in my own experiments. i have lately been trying some with poor success, and suppose that i have done too much, for i have been completely knocked up for some days. letter . to j. traherne moggridge. down, march th, . i am very sorry to hear that the vapour experiments have failed; but nothing could be better, as it seems to me, than your plan of enclosing a number of the ants with the seeds. the incidental results on the power of different vapours in killing seeds and stopping germination appear very curious, and as far as i know are quite new. p.s.--i never before heard of seeds not germinating except during a certain season; it will be a very strange fact if you can prove this. ( / . certain seeds pass through a resting period before germination. see pfeffer's "pflanzenphysiologie," edition i., volume ii., page iii.) letter . to h. muller. down, may th, . i am much obliged for your letter received this morning. i write now chiefly to give myself the pleasure of telling you how cordially i admire the last part of your book, which i have finished. ( / . "die befruchtung der blumen durch insekten": leipzig, . an english translation was published in by prof. d'arcy thompson. the "prefatory notice" to this work (february th, ) is almost the last of mr. darwin's writings. see "life and letters," page .) the whole discussion seems to me quite excellent, and it has pleased me not a little to find that in the rough ms. of my last chapter i have arrived on many points at nearly the same conclusions that you have done, though we have reached them by different routes. ( / . "the effects of cross and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom": london, .) letter . to f. delpino. down, june th [ ]. i thank you sincerely for your letter. i am very glad to hear about lathyrus odoratus, for here in england the vars. never cross, and yet are sometimes visited by bees. ( / . in "cross and self-fertilisation," page , darwin quotes the information received from delpino and referred to in the present letter--namely, that it is the fixed opinion of the italian gardeners that the varieties do intercross. see letter .) pisum sativum i have also many times seen visited by bombus. i believe the cause of the many vars. not crossing is that under our climate the flowers are self-fertilised at an early period, before the corolla is fully expanded. i shall examine this point with l. odoratus. i have read h. muller's book, and it seems to me very good. your criticism had not occurred to me, but is, i think just--viz. that it is much more important to know what insects habitually visit any flower than the various kinds which occasionally visit it. have you seen a. kerner's book "schutzmittel des pollens," , innsbruck. ( / . afterwards translated by dr. ogle as "flowers and their unbidden guests," with a prefatory letter by charles darwin, .) it is very interesting, but he does not seem to know anything about the work of other authors. i have bentham's paper in my house, but have not yet had time to read a word of it. he is a man with very sound judgment, and fully admits the principle of evolution. i have lately had occasion to look over again your discussion on anemophilous plants, and i have again felt much admiration at your work. ( / . "atti della soc. italiana di scienze nat." volume xiii.) ( / . in the beginning of august, , darwin paid the first of several visits to lord farrer's house at abinger. when sending copies of darwin's letters for the "life and letters," lord farrer was good enough to add explanatory notes and recollections, from which we quote the following sketch.) "above my house are some low hills, standing up in the valley, below the chalk range on the one hand and the more distant range of leith hill on the other, with pretty views of the valley towards dorking in one direction and guildford in the other. they are composed of the less fertile greensand strata, and are covered with fern, broom, gorse, and heath. here it was a particular pleasure of his to wander, and his tall figure, with his broad-brimmed panama hat and long stick like an alpenstock, sauntering solitary and slow over our favourite walks, is one of the pleasantest of the many pleasant associations i have with the place." letter . to t.h. farrer (lord farrer). ( / . the following note by lord farrer explains the main point of the letter, which, however, refers to the "bloom" problem as well as to coronilla:-- "i thought i had found out what puzzled us in coronilla varia: in most of the papilionaceae, when the tenth stamen is free, there is nectar in the staminal tube, and the opening caused by the free stamen enables the bee to reach the nectar, and in so doing the bee fertilises the plant. in coronilla varia, and in several other species of coronilla, there is no nectar in the staminal tube or in the tube of the corolla. but there are peculiar glands with nectar on the outside of the calyx, and peculiar openings in the tube of the corolla through which the proboscis of the bee, whilst entering the flower in the usual way and dusting itself with pollen, can reach these glands, thus fertilising the plant in getting the nectar. on writing this to mr. darwin, i received the following characteristic note. the first postscript relates to the rough ground behind my house, over which he was fond of strolling. it had been ploughed up and then allowed to go back, and the interest was to watch how the numerous species of weeds of cultivation which followed the plough gradually gave way in the struggle for existence to the well-known and much less varied flora of an english common.") bassett, southampton, august th, . you are the man to conquer a coronilla. ( / . in a former letter to lord farrer, darwin wrote: "here is a maxim for you, 'it is disgraceful to be beaten by a coronilla.'") i have been looking at the half-dried flowers, and am prepared to swear that you have solved the mystery. the difference in the size of the cells on the calyx under the vexillum right down to the common peduncle is conspicuous. the flour still adhered to this side; i see little bracteae or stipules apparently with glandular ends at the base of the calyces. do these secrete? it seems to me a beautiful case. when i saw the odd shape of the base of the vexillum, i concluded that it must have some meaning, but little dreamt what that was. now there remains only the one serious point--viz.the separation of the one stamen. i daresay that you are right in that nectar was originally secreted within the staminal tube; but why has not the one stamen long since cohered? the great difference in structure for fertilisation within the same genus makes one believe that all such points are vary variable. ( / . coronilla emerus is of the ordinary papilionaceous type.) with respect to the non-coherence of the one stamen, do examine some flower-buds at a very early age; for parts which are largely developed are often developed to an unusual degree at a very early age, and it seems to me quite possible that the base of the vexillum (to which the single stamen adhered) might thus be developed, and thus keep it separate for a time from the other stamens. the cohering stamens to the right and left of the single one seem to me to be pushed out a little laterally. when you have finished your observations, you really ought to send an account with a diagram to "nature," recalling your generalisation about the diadelphous structure, and now explaining the exception of coronilla. ( / . the observations were published in "nature," volume x., , page .) do add a remark how almost every detail of structure has a meaning where a flower is well examined. your observations pleased me so much that i could not sit still for half an hour. please to thank mr. payne ( / . lord farrer's gardener.) for his remarks, which are of value to me, with reference to mimosa. i am very much in doubt whether opening the sashes can act by favouring the evaporation of the drops; may not the movement of the leaves shake off the drops, or change their places? if mr. payne remembers any plant which is easily injured by drops, i wish he would put a drop or two on a leaf on a bright day, and cover the plant with a clean bell-glass, and do the same for another plant, but without a bell-glass over it, and observe the effects. thank you much for wishing to see us again at abinger, and it is very doubtful whether it will be coronilla, mr. payne, the new garden, the children, e. [lady farrer], or yourself which will give me the most pleasure to see again. p.s. .--it will be curious to note in how many years the rough ground becomes quite uniform in its flora. p.s. .--one may feel sure that periodically nectar was secreted within the flower and then secreted by the calyx, as in some species of iris and orchids. this latter being taken advantage of in coronilla would allow of the secretion within the flower ceasing, and as this change was going on in the two secretions, all the parts of the flower would become modified and correlated. letter . to j. burdon sanderson. down, tuesday, september th [ ]. ( / . sir j. burdon sanderson showed that in dionoea movement is accompanied by electric disturbances closely analogous to those occurring in muscle (see "nature," , pages , ; "proc. r. soc." xxi., and "phil. trans." volume clxxiii., , where the results are finally discussed).) i will send up early to-morrow two plants [of dionoea] with five goodish leaves, which you will know by their being tied to sticks. please remember that the slightest touch, even by a hair, of the three filaments on each lobe makes the leaf close, and it will not open for twenty-four hours. you had better put / in. of water into the saucers of the pots. the plants have been kept too cool in order to retard them. you had better keep them rather warm (i.e. temperature of warm greenhouse) for a day, and in a good light. i am extremely glad you have undertaken this subject. if you get a positive result, i should think you ought to publish it separately, and i could quote it; or i should be most glad to introduce any note by you into my account. i have no idea whether it is troublesome to try with the thermo-electric pile any change of temperature when the leaf closes. i could detect none with a common thermometer. but if there is any change of temperature i should expect it would occur some eight to twelve or twenty-four hours after the leaf has been given a big smashed fly, and when it is copiously secreting its acid digestive fluid. i forgot to say that, as far as i can make out, the inferior surface of the leaf is always in a state of tension, and that the contraction is confined to the upper surface; so that when this contraction ceases or suddenly fails (as by immersion in boiling water) the leaf opens again, or more widely than is natural to it. whenever you have quite finished, i will send for the plants in their basket. my son frank is staying at , queen anne street, and comes home on saturday afternoon, but you will not have finished by that time. p.s. i have repeated my experiment on digestion in drosera with complete success. by giving leaves a very little weak hydrochloric acid, i can make them digest albumen--i.e. white of egg--quicker than they can do naturally. i most heartily thank you for all your kindness. i have been pretty bad lately, and must work very little. letter . to j. burdon sanderson. september th [ ]. how very kind it was of you to telegraph to me. i am quite delighted that you have got a decided result. is it not a very remarkable fact? it seems so to me, in my ignorance. i wish i could remember more distinctly what i formerly read of du bois raymond's results. my poor memory never serves me for more than a vague guide. i really think you ought to try drosera. in a weak solution of phosphate of ammonia (viz. gr. to oz. of water) it will contract in about five minutes, and even more quickly in pure warm water; but then water, i suppose, would prevent your trial. i forget, but i think it contracts pretty quickly (i.e. in an hour or two) with a large drop of a rather stronger solution of the phosphate, or with an atom of raw meat on the disc of the leaf. letter . to j.d. hooker. october st, . now i want to tell you, for my own pleasure, about the movements of desmodium. . when the plant goes to sleep, the terminal leaflets hang vertically down, but the petioles move up towards the axis, so that the dependent leaves are all crowded round it. the little leaflets never go to sleep, and this seems to me very odd; they are at their games of play as late as o'clock at night and probably later. ( / . stahl ("botanische zeitung," , page ) has suggested that the movements of the dwarf leaflets in desmodium serve to shake the large terminal leaflets, and thus increase transpiration. according to stahl's view their movement would be more useful at night than by day, because stagnation of the transpiration-current is more likely to occur at night.) . if the plant is shaken or syringed with tepid water, the terminal leaflets move down through about an angle of deg, and the petioles likewise move about deg downwards; so that they move in an opposite direction to what they do when they go to sleep. cold water or air produces the same effect as does shaking. the little leaflets are not in the least affected by the plant being shaken or syringed. i have no doubt, from various facts, that the downward movement of the terminal leaflets and petioles from shaking and syringing is to save them from injury from warm rain. . the axis, the main petiole, and the terminal leaflets are all, when the temperature is high, in constant movement, just like that of climbing plants. this movement seems to be of no service, any more than the incessant movement of amoeboid bodies. the movement of the terminal leaflets, though insensible to the eye, is exactly the same as that of the little lateral leaflets--viz. from side to side, up and down, and half round their own axes. the only difference is that the little leaflets move to a much greater extent, and perhaps more rapidly; and they are excited into movement by warm water, which is not the case with the terminal leaflet. why the little leaflets, which are rudimentary in size and have lost their sleep-movements and their movements from being shaken, should not only have retained, but have their spontaneous movements exaggerated, i cannot conceive. it is hardly credible that it is a case of compensation. all this makes me very anxious to examine some plant (if possible one of the leguminosae) with either the terminal or lateral leaflets greatly reduced in size, in comparison with the other leaflets on the same leaf. can you or any of your colleagues think of any such plant? it is indirectly on this account that i so much want the seeds of lathyrus nissolia. i hear from frank that you think that the absence of both lateral leaflets, or of one alone, is due to their having dropped off; i thought so at first, and examined extremely young leaves from the tips of the shoots, and some of them presented the same characters. some appearances make me think that they abort by becoming confluent with the main petiole. i hear also that you doubt about the little leaflets ever standing not opposite to each other: pray look at the enclosed old leaf which has been for a time in spirits, and can you call the little leaflets opposite? i have seen many such cases on both my plants, though few so well marked. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october rd [ ]. how good you have been about the plants; but indeed i did not intend you to write about drosophyllum, though i shall be very glad to have a specimen. experiments on other plants lead to fresh experiments. neptunia is evidently a hopeless case. i shall be very glad of the other plants whenever they are ready. i constantly fear that i shall become to you a giant of bores. i am delighted to hear that you are at work on nepenthes, and i hope that you will have good luck. it is good news that the fluid is acid; you ought to collect a good lot and have the acid analysed. i hope that the work will give you as much pleasure as analogous work has me. ( / . hooker's work on nepenthes is referred to in "insectivorous plants," page : see also his address at the belfast meeting of the british association, .) i do not think any discovery gave me more pleasure than proving a true act of digestion in drosera. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, november th, . i have been greatly interested by mimosa albida, on which i have been working hard. whilst your memory is pretty fresh, i want to ask a question. when this plant was most sensitive, and you irritated it, did the opposite leaflets shut up quite close, as occurs during sleep, when even a lancet could not be inserted between the leaflets? i can never cause the leaflets to come into contact, and some reasons make me doubt whether they ever do so except during sleep; and this makes me wish much to hear from you. i grieve to say that the plant looks more unhealthy, even, than it was at kew. i have nursed it like the tenderest infant; but i was forced to cut off one leaf to try the bloom, and one was broken by the manner of packing. i have never syringed (with tepid water) more than one leaf per day; but if it dies, i shall feel like a murderer. i am pretty well convinced that i shall make out my case of movements as a protection against rain lodging on the leaves. as far as i have as yet made out, m. albida is a splendid case. i have had no time to examine more than one species of eucalyptus. the seedlings of lathyrus nissolia are very interesting to me; and there is something wonderful about them, unless seeds of two distinct leguminous species have got somehow mingled together. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, december th, . as hooker is so busy, i should be very much obliged if you could give me the name of the enclosed poor specimen of cassia. i want much to know its name, as its power of movement, when it goes to sleep, is very remarkable. linnaeus, i find, was aware of this. it twists each separate leaflet almost completely round ( / . see "power of movement in plants," figure , page .), so that the lower surface faces the sky, at the same time depressing them all. the terminal leaflets are pointed towards the base of the leaf. the whole leaf is also raised up about deg. when i saw that it possessed such complex powers of movement, i thought it would utilise its power to protect the leaflets from rain. accordingly i syringed the plant for two minutes, and it was really beautiful to see how each leaflet on the younger leaves twisted its short sub-petiole, so that the blade was immediately directed at an angle between and deg to the horizon. i could not resist the pleasure of just telling you why i want to know the name of the cassia. i should add that it is a greenhouse plant. i suppose that there will not be any better flowers till next summer or autumn. letter . to t. belt. ( / . belt's account, discussed in this letter, is probably that published in his "naturalist in nicaragua" ( ), where he describes "the relation between the presence of honey-secreting glands on plants, and the protection to the latter secured by the attendance of ants attracted by the honey." (op. cit., pages et seq.)) thursday [ ?]. your account of the ants and their relations seems to me to possess extraordinary interest. i do not doubt that the excretion of sweet fluid by the glands is in your cases of great advantage to the plants by means of the ants, but i cannot avoid believing that primordially it is a simple excretion, as occasionally occurs from the surface of the leaves of lime trees. it is quite possible that the primordial excretion may have been beneficially increased to serve the plant. in the common laurel [prunus laurocerasus] of our gardens the hive-bees visit incessantly the glands of the young leaves, on their under sides; and i should altogether doubt whether their visits or the occasional visits of ants was of any service to the laurel. the stipules of the common vetch secrete largely during sunshine, and hive-bees collect the sweet fluid. so i think it is with the common bean. i am writing this away from home, and i have come away to get some rest, having been a good deal overworked. i shall read your book with great interest when published, but will not trouble you to send the ms., as i really have no spare strength or time. i believe that your book, judging by the chapter sent, will be extremely valuable. letter . to j.d. hooker. ( / . the following letter refers to darwin's prediction as to the manner in which hedychium (zinziberaceae) is fertilised. sir j.d. hooker seems to have made inquiries in india in consequence of which darwin received specimens of the moth which there visits the flower, unfortunately so much broken as to be useless (see "life and letters," iii., page ).) down, march th [ ]. i am glad to hear about the hedychium, and how soon you have got an answer! i hope that the wings of the sphinx will hereafter prove to be bedaubed with pollen, for the case will then prove a fine bit of prophecy from the structure of a flower to special and new means of fertilisation. by the way, i suppose you have noticed what a grand appearance the plant makes when the green capsules open, and display the orange and crimson seeds and interior, so as to attract birds, like the pale buff flowers to attract dusk-flying lepidoptera. i presume you do not want seeds of this plant, as i have plenty from artificial fertilisation. ( / . in "nature," june nd, , page , hermann muller communicated f. muller's observation on the fertilisation of a bright-red-flowered species of hedychium, which is visited by callidryas, chiefly the males of c. philea. the pollen is carried by the tips of the butterfly's wing, to which it is temporarily fixed by the slimy layer produced by the degeneration of the anther-wall. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, june th [ ]. i am greatly obliged to you about the opuntia, and shall be glad if you can remember catalpa. i wish some facts on the action of water, because i have been so surprised at a stream not acting on dionoea and drosera. ( / . see pfeffer, "untersuchungen bot. inst. zu tubingen," bd. i., , page . pfeffer shows that in some cases--drosera, for instance--water produces movement only when it contains fine particles in suspension. according to pfeffer the stamens of berberis, and the stigma of mimulus, are both stimulated by gelatine, the action of which is, generally speaking, equivalent to that of water.) water does not act on the stamens of berberis, but it does on the stigma of mimulus. it causes the flowers of the bedding-out mesembryanthemum and drosera to close, but it has not this effect on gazania and the daisy, so i can make out no rule. i hope you are going on with nepenthes; and if so, you will perhaps like to hear that i have just found out that pinguicula can digest albumen, gelatine, etc. if a bit of glass or wood is placed on a leaf, the secretion is not increased; but if an insect or animal-matter is thus placed, the secretion is greatly increased and becomes feebly acid, which was not the case before. i have been astonished and much disturbed by finding that cabbage seeds excite a copious secretion, and am now endeavouring to discover what this means. ( / . clearly it had not occurred to darwin that seeds may supply nitrogenous food as well as insects: see "insectivorous plants," page .) probably in a few days' time i shall have to beg a little information from you, so i will write no more now. p.s. i heard from asa gray a week ago, and he tells me a beautiful fact: not only does the lid of sarracenia secrete a sweet fluid, but there is a line or trail of sweet exudation down to the ground so as to tempt insects up. ( / . a dried specimen of sarracenia, stuffed with cotton wool, was sometimes brought from his study by mr. darwin, and made the subject of a little lecture to visitors of natural history tastes.) letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, june rd, . i wrote to you about a week ago, thanking you for information on cabbage seeds, asking you the name of luzula or carex, and on some other points; and i hope before very long to receive an answer. you must now, if you can, forgive me for being very troublesome, for i am in that state in which i would sacrifice friend or foe. i have ascertained that bits of certain leaves, for instance spinach, excite much secretion in pinguicula, and that the glands absorb matter from the leaves. now this morning i have received a lot of leaves from my future daughter-in-law in north wales, having a surprising number of captured insects on them, a good many leaves, and two seed-capsules. she informs me that the little leaves had excited secretion; and my son and i have ascertained this morning that the protoplasm in the glands beneath the little leaves has undoubtedly undergone aggregation. therefore, absurd as it may sound, i am prepared to affirm that pinguicula is not only insectivorous, but graminivorous, and granivorous! now i want to beg you to look under the simple microscope at the enclosed leaves and seeds, and, if you possibly can, tell me their genera. the little narrow leaves are remarkable ( / . those of erica tetralix.); they are fleshy, with the edges much curled from the axis of the plant, and bear a few long glandular hairs; these grow in little tufts. these are the commonest in pinguicula, and seem to afford most nutritious matter. a second leaf is like a miniature sycamore. with respect to the seeds, i suppose that one is a carex; the other looks like that of rumex, but is enclosed in a globular capsule. the pinguicula grew on marshy, low, mountainous land. i hope you will think this subject sufficiently interesting to make you willing to aid me as far as you can. anyhow, forgive me for being so very troublesome. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august th [ ]. i am particularly obliged for your address. ( / . presidential address (biological section) at the belfast meeting of the british association, .) it strikes me as quite excellent, and has interested me in the highest degree. nor is this due to my having worked at the subject, for i feel sure that i should have been just as much struck, perhaps more so, if i had known nothing about it. you could not, in my opinion, have put the case better. there are several lights (besides the facts) in your essay new to me, and you have greatly honoured me. i heartily congratulate you on so splendid a piece of work. there is a misprint at page , mitschke for nitschke. there is a partial error at page , where you say that drosera is nearly indifferent to organic substances. this is much too strong, though they do act less efficiently than organic with soluble nitrogenous matter; but the chief difference is in the widely different period of subsequent re-expansion. thirdly, i did not suggest to sanderson his electrical experiments, though, no doubt, my remarks led to his thinking of them. now for your letter: you are very generous about dionoea, but some of my experiments will require cutting off leaves, and therefore injuring plants. i could not write to lady dorothy [nevill]. rollisson says that they expect soon a lot from america. if dionoea is not despatched, have marked on address, "to be forwarded by foot-messenger." mrs. barber's paper is very curious, and ought to be published ( / . mrs. barber's paper on the pupa of papilio nireus assuming different tints corresponding to the objects to which it was attached, was communicated by mr. darwin to the "trans. entomolog. soc." .); but when you come here (and remember you offered to come) we will consult where to send it. let me hear when you recommence on cephalotus or sarracenia, as i think i am now on right track about utricularia, after wasting several weeks in fruitless trials and observations. the negative work takes five times more time than the positive. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, september th [ ]. i have had a splendid day's work, and must tell you about it. lady dorothy sent me a young plant of u[tricularia] montana ( / . see "life and letters," iii., page , and "insectivorous plants," page .), which i fancy is the species you told me of. the roots or rhizomes (for i know not which they are; i can see no scales or internodes or absorbent hairs) bear scores of bladders from / to / of an inch in diameter; and i traced these roots to the depth of / in. in the peat and sand. the bladders are like glass, and have the same essential structure as those of our species, with the exception that many exterior parts are aborted. internally the structure is perfect, as is the minute valvular opening into the bladder, which is filled with water. i then felt sure that they captured subterranean insects, and after a time i found two with decayed remnants, with clear proof that something had been absorbed, which had generated protoplasm. when you are here i shall be very curious to know whether they are roots or rhizomes. besides the bladders there are great tuber-like swellings on the rhizomes; one was an inch in length and half in breadth. i suppose these must have been described. i strongly suspect that they serve as reservoirs for water. ( / . the existence of water-stores is quite in accordance with the epiphytic habit of the plant.) but i shall experimentise on this head. a thin slice is a beautiful object, and looks like coarsely reticulated glass. if you have an old plant which could be turned out of its pot (and can spare the time), it would be a great gain to me if you would tear off a bit of the roots near the bottom, and shake them well in water, and see whether they bear these minute glass-like bladders. i should also much like to know whether old plants bear the solid bladder-like bodies near the upper surface of the pot. these bodies are evidently enlargements of the roots or rhizomes. you must forgive this long letter, and make allowance for my delight at finding this new sub-group of insect-catchers. sir e. tennent speaks of an aquatic species of utricularia in ceylon, which has bladders on its roots, and rises annually to the surface, as he says, by this means. ( / . utricularia stellaris. emerson tennent's "ceylon," volume i., page , .) we shall be delighted to see you here on the th; if you will let us know your train we will send to meet you. you will have to work like a slave while you are here. letter . to j. jenner weir. ( / . in mr. jenner weir wrote to darwin: "my brother has but two kinds of laburnum, viz., cytisus purpureus, very erect, and cytisus alpinus, very pendulous. he has several stocks of the latter grafted with the purple one; and this year, the grafts being two years old, i saw in one, fairly above the stock, about four inches, a raceme of purely yellow flowers with the usual dark markings, and above them a bunch of purely purple flowers; the branches of the graft in no way showed an intermediate character, but had the usual rigid growth of purpureus." early in july , when darwin was correcting a new edition of "variation under domestication," he again corresponded with mr. weir on the subject.) down, july th [ ]. i thank you cordially. the case interests me in a higher degree than anything which i have heard for a very long time. is it your brother harrison w., whom i know? i should like to hear where the garden is. there is one other very important point which i am most anxious to hear--viz., the nature of the leaves at the base of the yellow racemes, for leaves are always there produced with the yellow laburnums, and i suppose so in the case of c. purpureus. as the tree has produced yellow racemes several times, do you think you could ask your brother to cut off and send me by post in a box a small branch of the purple stock with the pods or leaves of the yellow sport? ( / . "the purple stock" here means the supposed c. purpureus, on which a yellow-flowered branch was borne.) this would be an immense favour, for then i would cut the point of junction longitudinally and examine slice under the microscope, to be able to state no trace of bud of yellow kind having been inserted. i do not suspect anything of the kind, but it is sure to be said that your brother's gardener, either by accident or fraud, inserted a bud. under this point of view it would be very good to gather from your brother how many times the yellow sport has appeared. the case appears to me so very important as to be worth any trouble. very many thanks for all assistance so kindly given. i will of course send a copy of new edition of "variation under domestication" when published in the autumn. letter . to j. jenner weir. ( / . on july th mr. weir wrote to say that a branch of the cytisus had been despatched to down. the present letter was doubtless written after darwin had examined the specimen. in "variation under domestication," edition ii., volume i., page , note, he gives for a case recorded in the "gardeners' chronicle" in the explanation here offered (viz. that the graft was not c. purpureus but c. adami), and adds, "i have ascertained that this occurred in another instance." this second instance is doubtless mr. weir's.) down, july th, . i do not know how to thank you enough; pray give also my thanks and kind remembrances to your brother. i am sure you will forgive my expressing my doubts freely, as i well know that you desire the truth more than anything else. i cannot avoid the belief that some nurseryman has sold c[ytisus] adami to your brother in place of the true c. purpureus. the latter is a little bush only feet high (loudon), and when i read your account, it seemed to me a physical impossibility that a sporting branch of c. alpinus could grow to any size and be supported on the extremely delicate branches of c. purpureus. if i understand rightly your letter, you consider the tuft of small shoots on one side of the sporting c. alpinus from weirleigh as c. purpureus; but these shoots are certainly those of c. adami. i earnestly beg you to look at the specimens enclosed. the branch of the true c. purpureus is the largest which i could find. if c. adami was sold to your brother as c. purpureus, everything is explained; for then the gardener has grafted c. adami on c. alpinus, and the former has sported in the usual manner; but has not sported into c. purpureus, only into c. alpinus. c. adami does not sport less frequently into c. purpureus than into c. alpinus. are the purple flowers borne on moderately long racemes? if so, the plant is certainly c. adami, for the true c. purpureus bears flowers close to the branches. i am very sorry to be so troublesome, but i am very anxious to hear again from you. c. purpureus bears "flowers axillary, solitary, stalked." p.s.--i think you said that the purple [tree] at weirleigh does not seed, whereas the c. purpureus seeds freely, as you may see in enclosed. c. adami never produces seeds or pods. letter . to e. hackel. ( / . the following extract refers to darwin's book on "cross and self-fertilisation.") november th, . i am now busy in drawing up an account of ten years' experiments in the growth and fertility of plants raised from crossed and self-fertilised flowers. it is really wonderful what an effect pollen from a distinct seedling plant, which has been exposed to different conditions of life, has on the offspring in comparison with pollen from the same flower or from a distinct individual, but which has been long subjected to the same conditions. the subject bears on the very principle of life, which seems almost to require changes in the conditions. letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . the following extract from a letter to romanes refers to francis darwin's paper, "experiments on the nutrition of drosera rotundifolia." "linn. soc. journ." [ ], published , page .) august th [ ]. the second point which delights me, seeing that half a score of botanists throughout europe have published that the digestion of meat by plants is of no use to them (a mere pathological phenomenon, as one man says!), is that frank has been feeding under exactly similar conditions a large number of plants of drosera, and the effect is wonderful. on the fed side the leaves are much larger, differently coloured, and more numerous; flower-stalks taller and more numerous, and i believe far more seed capsules,--but these not yet counted. it is particularly interesting that the leaves fed on meat contain very many more starch granules (no doubt owing to more protoplasm being first formed); so that sections stained with iodine, of fed and unfed leaves, are to the naked eye of very different colours. there, i have boasted to my heart's content, and do you do the same, and tell me what you have been doing. letter . to j.d. hooker. down, october th [ ]. if you can put the following request into any one's hands pray do so; but if not, ignore my request, as i know how busy you are. i want any and all plants of hoya examined to see if any imperfect flowers like the one enclosed can be found, and if so to send them to me, per post, damp. but i especially want them as young as possible. they are very curious. i have examined some sent me from abinger ( / . lord farrer's house.), but they were a month or two too old, and every trace of pollen and anthers had disappeared or had never been developed. yet a very fine pod with apparently good seed had been formed by one such flower. ( / . the seeds did not germinate; see the account of hoya carnosa in "forms of flowers," page .) letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . published in the "life of romanes," page .) down, august th [ ]. when i went yesterday i had not received to-day's "nature," and i thought that your lecture was finished. ( / . abstract of a lecture on "evolution of nerves and nervo-systems," delivered at the royal institution, may th, . "nature," july th, august nd, august th, .) this final part is one of the grandest essays which i ever read. it was very foolish of me to demur to your lines of conveyance like the threads in muslin ( / . "nature," august nd, page .), knowing how you have considered the subject: but still i must confess i cannot feel quite easy. everyone, i suppose, thinks on what he has himself seen, and with drosera, a bit of meat put on any one gland on its disc causes all the surrounding tentacles to bend to this point, and here there can hardly be differentiated lines of conveyance. it seems to me that the tentacles probably bend to that point wherever a molecular wave strikes them, which passes through the cellular tissue with equal ease in all directions in this particular case. ( / . speaking generally, the transmission takes place more readily in the longitudinal direction than across the leaf: see "insectivorous plants," page .) but what a fine case that of the aurelia is! ( / . aurelia aurita, one of the medusae. "nature," pages - .) letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. , queen anne street [december ]. tell hooker i feel greatly aggrieved by him: i went to the royal society to see him for once in the chair of the royal, to admire his dignity and enjoy it, and lo and behold, he was not there. my outing gave me much satisfaction, and i was particularly glad to see mr. bentham, and to see him looking so wonderfully well and young. i saw lots of people, and it has not done me a penny's worth of harm, though i could not get to sleep till nearly four o'clock. letter . to d. oliver. down, october, th [ ?]. you must be a clair-voyant or something of that kind to have sent me such useful plants. twenty-five years ago i described in my father's garden two forms of linum flavum (thinking it a case of mere variation); from that day to this i have several times looked, but never saw the second form till it arrived from kew. virtue is never its own reward: i took paper this summer to write to you to ask you to send me flowers, [so] that i might beg plants of this linum, if you had the other form, and refrained, from not wishing to trouble you. but i am now sorry i did, for i have hardly any doubt that l. flavum never seeds in any garden that i have seen, because one form alone is cultivated by slips. ( / . id est, because, the plant being grown from slips, one form alone usually occurs in any one garden. it is also arguable that it is grown by slips because only one form is common, and therefore seedlings cannot be raised.) ( / . the following five letters refer to darwin's work on "bloom"--a subject on which he did not live to complete his researches:-- one of his earliest letters on this subject was addressed in august, , to sir joseph hooker ( / . published in "life and letters," iii., page .): "i want a little information from you, and if you do not yourself know, please to enquire of some of the wise men of kew. "why are the leaves and fruit of so many plants protected by a thin layer of waxy matter (like the common cabbage), or with fine hair, so that when such leaves or fruit are immersed in water they appear as if encased in thin glass? it is really a pretty sight to put a pod of the common pea, or a raspberry, into water. i find several leaves are thus protected on the under surface and not on the upper. "how can water injure the leaves, if indeed this is at all the case?" on this latter point darwin wrote to the late lord farrer: "i am now become mad about drops of water injuring leaves. please ask mr. payne ( / . lord farrer's gardener.) whether he believes, from his own experience, that drops of water injure leaves or fruit in his conservatories. it is said that the drops act as burning-glasses; if this is true, they would not be at all injurious on cloudy days. as he is so acute a man, i should very much like to hear his opinion. i remember when i grew hothouse orchids i was cautioned not to wet their leaves; but i never then thought on the subject." the next letter, though of later date than some which follow it, is printed here because it briefly sums his results and serves as guide to the letters dealing with the subject.) letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. ( / . published in "life and letters," iii., page .) down, september th [ ]. one word to thank you. i declare, had it not been for your kindness, we should have broken down. as it is we have made out clearly that with some plants (chiefly succulent) the bloom checks evaporation--with some certainly prevents attacks of insects; with some sea-shore plants prevents injury from salt water, and, i believe, with a few prevents injury from pure water resting on the leaves. this latter is as yet the most doubtful and the most interesting point in relation to the movements of plants. ( / . modern research, especially that of stahl on transpiration ("bot. zeitung," , page ) has shown that the question is more complex than it appeared in . stahl's point of view is that moisture remaining on a leaf checks the transpiration-current; and by thus diminishing the flow of mineral nutriment interferes with the process of assimilation. stahl's idea is doubtless applicable to the whole problem of bloom on leaves. for other references to bloom see letters , and .) letter . to j.d. hooker. down, august th, . the next time you walk round the garden ask mr. smith ( / . probably john smith ( - ), for some years curator, royal gardens, kew.), or any of your best men, what they think about injury from watering during sunshine. one of your men--viz., mr. payne, at abinger, who seems very acute--declares that you may water safely any plant out of doors in sunshine, and that you may do the same for plants under glass if the sashes are opened. this seems to me very odd, but he seems positive on the point, and acts on it in raising splendid grapes. another good gardener maintains that it is only cold water dripping often on the same point of a leaf that ever injures it. i am utterly perplexed, but interested on the point. give me what you learn when you come to down. i should like to hear what plants are believed to be most injured by being watered in sunshine, so that i might get such. i expect that i shall be utterly beaten, as on so many other points; but i intend to make a few experiments and observations. i have already convinced myself that drops of water do not act as burning lenses. letter . to j.d. hooker. december th [ ]. i find that it is no use going on with my experiments on the evil effects of water on bloom-divested leaves. either i erred in the early autumn or summer in some incomprehensible manner, or, as i suspect to be the case, water is only injurious to leaves when there is a good supply of actinic rays. i cannot believe that i am all in the wrong about the movements of the leaves to shoot off water. the upshot of all this is that i want to keep all the plants from kew until the spring or early summer, as it is mere waste of time going on at present. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, july nd [ ]. many thanks for seeds of the malva and information about averrhoa, which i perceived was sensitive, as a. carambola is said to be; and about mimosa sensitiva. the log-wood [haematoxylon] has interested me much. the wax is very easily removed, especially from the older leaves, and i found after squirting on the leaves with water at deg, all the older leaves became coated, after forty-eight hours, in an astonishing manner with a black uredo, so that they looked as if sprinkled with soot and water. but not one of the younger leaves was affected. this has set me to work to see whether the "bloom" is not a protection against parasites. as soon as i have ascertained a little more about the case (and generally i am quite wrong at first) i will ask whether i could have a very small plant, which should never be syringed with water above deg, and then i suspect the leaves would not be spotted, as were the older ones on the plant, when it arrived from kew, but nothing like what they were after my squirting. in an old note of yours (which i have just found) you say that you have a sensitive schrankia: could this be lent me? i have had lent me a young coral-tree (erythrina), which is very sickly, yet shows odd sleep movements. i suppose i could buy one, but hooker told me first to ask you for anything. lastly, have you any seaside plants with bloom? i find that drops of sea-water corrode sea-kale if bloom is removed; also the var. littorum of triticum repens. (by the way, my plants of the latter, grown in pots here, are now throwing up long flexible green blades, and it is very odd to see, on the same culm, the rigid grey bloom-covered blades and the green flexible ones.) cabbages, ill-luck to them, do not seem to be hurt by salt water. hooker formerly told me that salsola kali, a var. of salicornia, one species of suaeda, euphorbia peplis, lathyrus maritimus, eryngium maritimum, were all glaucous and seaside plants. it is very improbable that you have any of these or of foreigners with the same attributes. god forgive me: i hope that i have not bored you greatly. by all the rules of right the leaves of the logwood ought to move (as if partially going to sleep) when syringed with tepid water. the leaves of my little plant do not move at all, and it occurs to me as possible, though very improbable, that it would be different with a larger plant with perhaps larger leaves. would you some day get a gardener to syringe violently, with water kept in a hothouse, a branch on one of your largest logwood plants and observe [whether?] leaves move together towards the apex of leaf? by the way, what astonishing nonsense mr. andrew murray has been writing about leaves and carbonic acid! i like to see a man behaving consistently... what a lot i have scribbled to you! (figure . leaf of trifolium resupinatum (from a drawing by miss pertz).) letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. [august, .] there is no end to my requests. can you spare me a good plant (or even two) of oxalis sensitiva? the one which i have (formerly from kew) has been so maltreated that i dare not trust my results any longer. please give the enclosed to mr. lynch. ( / . mr. lynch, now curator of the cambridge botanic garden, was at this time in the r. bot. garden, kew. mr. lynch described the movements of averrhoa bilimbi in the "linn. soc. journ," volume xvi., page . see also "the power of movement in plants," page .) the spontaneous movements of the averrhoa are very curious. you sent me seeds of trifolium resupinatum, and i have raised plants, and some former observations which i did not dare to trust have proved accurate. it is a very little fact, but curious. the half of the lateral leaflets (marked by a cross) on the lower side have no bloom and are wetted, whereas the other half has bloom and is not wetted, so that the two sides look different to the naked eye. the cells of the eipdermis appear of a different shape and size on the two sides of the leaf [figure ]. when we have drawings and measurements of cells made, and are sure of our facts, i shall ask you whether you know of any case of the same leaf differing histologically on the two sides, for hooker always says you are a wonderful man for knowing what has been made out. ( / . the biological meaning of the curious structure of the leaves of trifolium resupinatum remains a riddle. the stomata and (speaking from memory) the trichomes differ on the two halves of the lateral leaflets.) letter . to l. errera. ( / . professor l. errera, of brussels wrote, as a student, to darwin, asking permission to send the ms. of an essay by his friend s. gevaert and himself on cross and self-fertilisation, and which was afterwards published in the "bull. soc. bot. belg." xvii., . the terms xenogamy, geitonogamy, and autogamy were first suggested by kerner in ; their definition will be found at page of ogle's translation of kerner's "flowers and their unbidden guests," . in xenogamy the pollen comes from another plant; in geitonogamy from another flower on the same plant; in autogamy from the androecium of the fertilised flower. allogamy embraces xenogamy and geitonogamy.) down, october th, . i have now read your ms. the whole has interested me greatly, and is very clearly written. i wish that i had used some such terms as autogamy, xenogamy, etc...i entirely agree with you on the a priori probability of geitonogamy being more advantageous than autogamy; and i cannot remember having ever expressed a belief that autogamy, as a general rule, was better than geitonogamy; but the cases recorded by me seem too strong not to make me suspect that there was some unknown advantage in autogamy. in one place i insert the caution "if this be really the case," which you quote. ( / . see "cross and self-fertilisation," pages , . the phrase referred to occurs in both passages; that on page is as follows: "we have also seen reason to suspect that self-fertilisation is in some peculiar manner beneficial to certain plants; but if this be really the case, the benefit thus derived is far more than counterbalanced by a cross with a fresh stock or with a slightly different variety." errera and gevaert conclude (pages - ) that the balance of the available evidence is in favour of the belief that geitonogamy is intermediate, in effectiveness, between autogamy and xenogamy.) i shall be very glad to be proved to be altogether in error on this point. accept my thanks for pointing out the bad erratum at page . i hope that you will experimentise on inconspicuous flowers ( / . see miss bateson, "annals of botany," , page , "on the cross-fertilisation of inconspicuous flowers:" miss bateson showed that senecio vulgaris clearly profits by cross-fertilisation; stellaria media and capsella bursa-pastoris less certainly.); if i were not too old and too much occupied i would do so myself. finally let me thank you for the kind manner in which you refer to my work, and with cordial good wishes for your success... letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, october th, . one line to thank you much about mertensia. the former plant has begun to make new leaves, to my great surprise, so that i shall be now well supplied. we have worked so well with the averrhoa that unless the second species arrives in a very good state it would be superfluous to send it. i am heartily glad that you and mrs. dyer are going to have a holiday. i will look at you as a dead man for the next month, and nothing shall tempt me to trouble you. but before you enter your grave aid me if you can. i want seeds of three or four plants (not leguminosae or cruciferae) which produce large cotyledons. i know not in the least what plants have large cotyledons. why i want to know is as follows: the cotyledons of cassia go to sleep, and are sensitive to a touch; but what has surprised me much is that they are in constant movement up and down. so it is with the cotyledons of the cabbage, and therefore i am very curious to ascertain how far this is general. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, october th [ ]. the fine lot of seeds arrived yesterday, and are all sown, and will be most useful. if you remember, pray thank mr. lynch for his aid. i had not thought of beech or sycamore, but they are now sown. perhaps you may like to see a rough copy of the tracing of movements of one of the cotyledons of red cabbage, and you can throw it into the fire. a line joining the two cotyledons stood facing a north-east window, and the day was uniformly cloudy. a bristle was gummed to one cotyledon, and beyond it a triangular bit of card was fixed, and in front a vertical glass. a dot was made in the glass every quarter or half hour at the point where the end of the bristle and the apex of card coincided, and the dots were joined by straight lines. the observations were from a.m. to . p.m. during this time the enclosed figure was described; but between p.m. and . p.m. the cotyledon moved so that the prolonged line was beyond the limits of the glass, and the course is here shown by an imaginary dotted line. the cotyledon of primula sinensis moved in closely analogous manner, as do those of a cassia. hence i expect to find such movements very general with cotyledons, and i am inclined to look at them as the foundation for all the other adaptive movements of leaves. they certainly are of the so-called sleep of plants. i hope i have not bothered you. do not answer. i am all on fire at the work. i have had a short and very prosperous note from asa gray, who says hooker is very prosperous, and both are tremendously hard at work. ( / . "hooker is coming over, and we are going in summer to the rocky mountains together, according to an old promise of mine." asa gray to g.f. wright, may th, ("letters of asa gray," ii., page ).) letter . to h. muller. down, january st [ ?]. i must write two or three lines to thank you cordially for your very handsome and very interesting review of my last book in "kosmos," which i have this minute finished. ( / . "forms of flowers," . h. muller's article is in "kosmos," ii., page .) it is wonderful how you have picked out everything important in it. i am especially glad that you have called attention to the parallelism between illegitimate offspring of heterostyled plants and hybrids. your previous article in "kosmos" seemed to me very important, but for some unknown reason the german was very difficult, and i was sadly overworked at the time, so that i could not understand a good deal of it. ( / . "kosmos," ii., pages , . see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page .) but i have put it on one side, and when i have to prepare a new edition of my book i must make it out. it seems that you attribute such cases as that of the dioecious rhamnus and your own of valeriana to the existence of two forms with larger and smaller flowers. i cannot follow the steps by which such plants have been rendered dioecious, but when i read your article with more care i hope i shall understand. ( / . see "forms of flowers," edition ii., pages and . h. muller's view is briefly that conspicuous and less conspicuous varieties occurred, and that the former were habitually visited first by insects; thus the less conspicuous form would play the part of females and their pollen would tend to become superfluous. see h. muller in "kosmos," ii.) if you have succeeded in explaining this class of cases i shall heartily rejoice, for they utterly perplexed me, and i could not conjecture what their meaning was. it is a grievous evil to have no faculty for new languages. with the most sincere respect and hearty good wishes to you and all your family for the new year... p.s.--what interesting papers your wonderful brother has lately been writing! letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. ( / . this letter refers to the purchase of instruments for the jodrell laboratory in the royal gardens, kew. "the royal commission on scientific instruction and the advancement of science, commonly spoken of as the devonshire commission, in its fourth report ( ), page , expressed the opinion that 'it is highly desirable that opportunities for the pursuit of investigations in physiological botany should be afforded at kew to those persons who may be inclined to follow that branch of science.' effect was given to this recommendation by the liberality of the late t.j. phillips-jodrell, m.a., who built and equipped the small laboratory, which has since borne his name, at his own expense. it was completed and immediately brought into use in ." the above is taken from the "bulletin of miscellaneous information," r. botanic gardens, kew, , page , which also gives a list of work carried out in the laboratory between and .) down, march th, . i have a very strong opinion that it would be the greatest possible pity if the phys[iological] lab., now that it has been built, were not supplied with as many good instruments as your funds can possibly afford. it is quite possible that some of them may become antiquated before they are much or even at all used. but this does not seem to me any argument at all against getting them, for the laboratory cannot be used until well provided; and the mere fact of the instruments being ready may suggest to some one to use them. you at kew, as guardians and promoters of botanical science, will then have done all in your power, and if your lab. is not used the disgrace will lie at the feet of the public. but until bitter experience proves the contrary i will never believe that we are so backward. i should think the german laboratories would be very good guides as to what to get; but timiriazeff of moscow, who travelled over europe to see all bot. labs., and who seemed so good a fellow, would, i should think, give the best list of the most indispensable instruments. lately i thought of getting frank or horace to go to cambridge for the use of the heliostat there; but our observations turned out of less importance than i thought, yet if there had been one at kew we should probably have used it, and might have found out something curious. it is impossible for me to predict whether or not we should ever want this or that instrument, for we are guided in our work by what turns up. thus i am now observing something about geotropism, and i had no idea a few weeks ago that this would have been necessary. in a short time we might earnestly wish for a centrifugal apparatus or a heliostat. in all such cases it would make a great difference if a man knew that he could use a particular instrument without great loss of time. i have now given my opinion, which is very decided, whether right or wrong, and frank quite agrees with me. you can, of course, show this letter to hooker. letter . to f. ludwig. down, may th, . i thank you sincerely for the trouble which you have taken in sending me so long and interesting a letter, together with the specimens. gradations are always very valuable, and you have been remarkably successful in discovering the stages by which the plantago has become gyno-dioecious. ( / . see f. ludwig, "zeitsch. f. d. geo. naturwiss." bd. lii., . professor ludwig's observations are quoted in the preface to "forms of flowers," edition ii., page ix.) your view of its origin, from being proterogynous, seems to me very probable, especially as the females are generally the later-flowering plants. if you can prove the reverse case with thymus your view will manifestly be rendered still more probable. i have never felt satisfied with h. muller's view, though he is so careful and admirable an observer. ( / . see "forms of flowers," edition ii., page . also letter .) it is more than seventeen years since i attended to plantago, and when nothing had been published on the subject, and in consequence i omitted to attend to several points; and now, after so long an interval, i cannot pretend to say to which of your forms the english one belongs; i well remember that the anther of the females contained a good deal [of] pollen, though not one sound grain. p.s.--delpino is professor of botany in genoa, italy ( / . now at naples.); i have always found him a most obliging correspondent. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, august th [ ]. many thanks for seeds of trifolium resupinatum, which are invaluable to us. i enclose seeds of a cassia, from fritz muller, and they are well worth your cultivation; for he says they come from a unique, large and beautiful tree in the interior, and though looking out for years, he has never seen another specimen. one of the most splendid, largest and rarest butterflies in s. brazil, he has never seen except near this one tree, and he has just discovered that its caterpillars feed on its leaves. i have just been looking at fine young pods beneath the ground of arachis. ( / . arachis hypogoea, cultivated for its "ground nuts.") i suppose that the pods are not withdrawn when ripe from the ground; but should this be the case kindly inform me; if i do not hear i shall understand that [the] pods ripen and are left permanently beneath the ground. if you ever come across heliotropic or apheliotropic aerial roots on a plant not valuable (but which should be returned), i should like to observe them. bignonia capreolata, with its strongly apheliotropic tendrils (which i had from kew), is now interesting me greatly. veitch tells me it is not on sale in any london nursery, as i applied to him for some additional plants. so much for business. i have received from the geographical soc. your lecture, and read it with great interest. ( / . "on plant-distribution as a field for geographical research." "geog. soc. proc." xxii., , page .) but it ought not merely to be read; it requires study. the sole criticism which i have to make is that parts are too much condensed: but, good lord, how rare a fault is this! you do not quote saporta, i think; and some of his work on the tertiary plants would have been useful to you. in a former note you spoke contemptuously of your lecture: all i can say is that i never heard any one speak more unjustly and shamefully of another than you have done of yourself! letter . to h. muller. down, september th, . i am working away on some points in vegetable physiology, but though they interest me and my son, yet they have none of the fascination which the fertilisation of flowers possesses. nothing in my life has ever interested me more than the fertilisation of such plants as primula and lythrum, or again anacamptis ( / . orchis pyramidalis.) or listera. letter . to h. muller. down, february th [ ]. i have just heard that some misfortune has befallen you, and that you have been treated shamefully. ( / . hermann muller was accused by the ultramontane party of introducing into his school-teaching crude hypotheses ("unreife hypothesen"), which were assumed to have a harmful influence upon the religious sentiments of his pupils. attempts were made to bring about muller's dismissal, but the active hostility of his opponents, which he met in a dignified spirit, proved futile. ("prof. dr. hermann muller von lippstadt. ein gedenkblatt," von ernst krause. "kosmos," vii., page , .)) i grieve deeply to hear this, and as soon as you can find a few minutes to spare, i earnestly beg you to let me hear what has happened. letter . to a. stephen wilson. ( / . the following letters refer to two forms of wheat cultivated in russia under the names kubanka and saxonka, which had been sent to mr. darwin by dr. asher from samara, and were placed in the hands of mr. wilson that he might test the belief prevalent in russia that kubanka "grown repeatedly on inferior soil," assumes "the form of saxonka." mr. wilson's paper of gives the results of his inquiry. he concludes (basing his views partly on analogous cases and partly on his study of the russian wheats) that the supposed transformation is explicable in chief part by the greater fertility of the saxonka wheat leading to extermination of the other form. according to mr. wilson, therefore, the saxonka survivors are incorrectly assumed to be the result of the conversion of one form into the other.) down, april th, . i send you herewith some specimens which may perhaps interest you, as you have so carefully studied the varieties of wheat. anyhow, they are of no use to me, as i have neither knowledge nor time sufficient. they were sent me by the governor of the province of samara, in russia, at the request of dr. asher (son of the great berlin publisher) who farmed for some years in the province. the specimen marked kubanka is a very valuable kind, but which keeps true only when cultivated in fresh steppe-land in samara, and in saratoff. after two years it degenerates into the variety saxonica, or its synonym ghirca. the latter alone is imported into this country. dr. asher says that it is universally known, and he has himself witnessed the fact, that if grain of the kubanka is sown in the same steppe-land for more than two years it changes into saxonica. he has seen a field with parts still kubanka and the remainder saxonica. on this account the government, in letting steppe-land, contracts that after two years wheat must not be sown until an interval of eight years. the ears of the two kinds appear different, as you will see, but the chief difference is in the quality of the grains. dr. asher has witnessed sales of equal weights of kubanka and saxonica grain, and the price of the former was to that of the latter as to . the peasants say that the change commences in the terminal grain of the ear. the most remarkable point, as dr. asher positively asserts, is that there are no intermediate varieties; but that a grain produces a plant yielding either true kubanka or true saxonica. he thinks that it would be interesting to sow here both kinds in good and bad wheat soil and observe the result. should you think it worth while to make any such trial, and should you require further information, dr. asher, whose address i enclose, will be happy to give any in his power. letter . to a. stephen wilson. basset, southampton, april th [ ]. your kind note and specimens have been forwarded to me here, where i am staying at my son's house for a fortnight's complete rest, which i required from rather too hard work. for this reason i will not now examine the seeds, but will wait till returning home, when, with my son francis' aid, i will look to them. i always felt, though without any good reason, rather sceptical about prof. buckman's experiment, and i afterwards heard that a most wicked and cruel trick had been played on him by some of the agricultural students at cirencester, who had sown seeds unknown to him in his experimental beds. whether he ever knew this i did not hear. i am exceedingly glad that you are willing to look into the russian wheat case. it may turn out a mare's nest, but i have often incidentally observed curious facts when making what i call "a fool's experiment." letter . to a. stephen wilson. down, march th, . i have just returned home after an absence of a week, and your letter was not forwarded to me; i mention this to account for my apparent discourtesy in not having sooner thanked you. you have worked out the subject with admirable care and clearness, and your drawings are beautiful. i suspected that there was some error in the russian belief, but i did not think of the explanation which you have almost proved to be the true one. it is an extremely interesting instance of a more fertile variety beating out a less fertile one, and, in this case, one much more valuable to man. with respect to publication, i am at a loss to advise you, for i live a secluded life and do not see many periodicals, or hear what is done at the various societies. it seems to me that your paper should be published in some agricultural journal; for it is not simply scientific, and would therefore not be published by the linnean or royal societies. would the royal agricultural society be a fitting place? unfortunately i am not a member, and could not myself present it. unless you think of some better journal, there is the "agricultural gazette": i have occasionally suggested articles for publication to the editor (though personally unknown to me) which he has always accepted. permit me again to thank you for the thorough manner in which you have worked out this case; to kill an error is as good a service as, and sometimes even better than, the establishing a new truth or fact. letter . to a. stephen wilson. down, february th, . it was very kind of you to send me two numbers of the "gardeners' chronicle" with your two articles, which i have read with much interest. ( / . "gardeners' chronicle," , page ; , pages , .) you have quite convinced me, whatever mr. asher may say to the contrary. i want to ask you a question, on the bare chance of your being able to answer it, but if you cannot, please do not take the trouble to write. the lateral branches of the silver fir often grow out into knobs through the action of a fungus, aecidium; and from these knobs shoots grow vertically ( / . the well-known "witches-brooms," or "hexen-besen," produced by the fungus aecidium elatinum.) instead of horizontally, like all the other twigs on the same branch. now the roots of cruciferae and probably other plants are said to become knobbed through the action of a fungus: now, do these knobs give rise to rootlets? and, if so, do they grow in a new or abnormal direction? ( / . the parasite is probably plasmodiophora: in this case no abnormal rootlets have been observed, as far as we know.) letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. down, june th, . the plants arrived last night in first-rate order, and it was very very good of you to take so much trouble as to hunt them up yourself. they seem exactly what i wanted, and if i fail it will not be for want of perfect materials. but a confounded painter (i beg his pardon) comes here to-night, and for the next two days i shall be half dead with sitting to him; but after then i will begin to work at the plants and see what i can do, and very curious i am about the results. i have to thank you for two very interesting letters. i am delighted to hear, and with surprise, that you care about old erasmus d. god only knows what i shall make of his life--it is such new kind of work to me. ( / . "erasmus darwin." by ernst krause. translated from the german by w.s. dallas: with a preliminary notice by charles darwin. london, . see "life and letters," iii., pages - .) thanks for case of sleeping crotalaria--new to me. i quite agree to every word you say about ball's lecture ( / . "on the origin of the flora of the european alps," "geogr. soc. proc." volume i., , page . see letter , volume ii.)--it is, as you say, like sir w. thomson's meteorite. ( / . in lord kelvin (presidential address brit. assoc.) suggested that meteorites, "the moss-grown fragments from the ruins of another world," might have introduced life to our planet.) it is really a pity; it is enough to make geographical distribution ridiculous in the eyes of the world. frank will be interested about the auriculas; i never attended to this plant, for the powder did [not] seem to me like true "bloom." ( / . see francis darwin, on the relation between "bloom" on leaves and the distribution of the stomata. "linn. soc. journ." volume xxii., page .) this subject, however, for the present only, has gone to the dogs with me. i am sorry to hear of such a struggle for existence at kew; but i have often wondered how it is that you are all not killed outright. i can most fully sympathise with you in your admiration of your little girl. there is nothing so charming in this world, and we all in this house humbly adore our grandchild, and think his little pimple of a nose quite beautiful. letter . to g. bentham. down, february th, . i have had real pleasure in signing dyer's certificate. ( / . as a candidate for the royal society.) it was very kind in you to write to me about the orchideae, for it has pleased me to an extreme degree that i could have been of the least use to you about the nature of the parts. they are wonderful creatures, these orchids, and i sometimes think with a glow of pleasure, when i remember making out some little point in their method of fertilisation. ( / . published in "life and letters," iii., page .) with respect to terms, no doubt you will be able to improve them greatly, for i knew nothing about the terms as used in other groups of plants. could you not invent some quite new term for gland, implying viscidity? or append some word to gland. i used for cirripedes "cement gland." your present work must be frightfully difficult. i looked at a few dried flowers, and could make neither heads nor tails of them; and i well remember wondering what you would do with them when you came to the group in the "genera plantarum." i heartily wish you safe through your work,... letter . to f.m. balfour. down, september th, . i hope that you will not think me a great bore, but i have this minute finished reading your address at the british association; and it has interested me so much that i cannot resist thanking you heartily for the pleasure derived from it, not to mention the honour which you have done me. ( / . presidential address delivered by prof. f.m. balfour before the biological section at the british association meeting at swansea ( ).) the recent progress of embryology is indeed splendid. i have been very stupid not to have hitherto read your book, but i have had of late no spare time; i have now ordered it, and your address will make it the more interesting to read, though i fear that my want of knowledge will make parts unintelligible to me. ( / . "a treatise on comparative embryology," volumes. london, .) in my recent work on plants i have been astonished to find to how many very different stimuli the same small part--viz., the tip of the radicle--is sensitive, and has the power of transmitting some influence to the adjoining part of the radicle, exciting it to bend to or from the source of irritation according to the needs of the plant ( / . see letter .); and all this takes place without any nervous system! i think that such facts should be kept in mind when speculating on the genesis of the nervous system. i always feel a malicious pleasure when a priori conclusions are knocked on the head: and therefore i felt somewhat like a devil when i read your remarks on herbert spencer ( / . prof. balfour discussed mr. herbert spencer's views on the genesis of the nervous system, and expressed the opinion that his hypothesis was not borne out by recent discoveries. "the discovery that nerves have been developed from processes of epithelial cells gives a very different conception of their genesis to that of herbert spencer, which makes them originate from the passage of nervous impulses through a track of mingled colloids..." (loc. cit., page .))...our recent visit to cambridge was a brilliant success to us all, and will ever be remembered by me with much pleasure. letter . to james paget. ( / . during the closing years of his life, darwin began to experimentise on the possibility of producing galls artificially. a letter to sir j.d. hooker (november rd, ) shows the interest which he felt in the question:-- "i was delighted with paget's essay ( / . an address on "elemental pathology," delivered before the british medical association, august , and published in the journal of the association.); i hear that he has occasionally attended to this subject from his youth...i am very glad he has called attention to galls: this has always seemed to me a profoundly interesting subject; and if i had been younger would take it up." his interest in this subject was connected with his ever-present wish to learn something of the causes of variation. he imagined to himself wonderful galls caused to appear on the ovaries of plants, and by these means he thought it possible that the seed might be influenced, and thus new varieties arise. ( / . there would have been great difficulties about this line of research, for when the sexual organs of plants are deformed by parasites (in the way he hoped to effect by poisons) sterility almost always results. see molliard's "les cecidies florales," "ann. sci. nat." , volume i., page .) he made a considerable number of experiments by injecting various reagents into the tissues of leaves, and with some slight indications of success. ( / . the above passage is reprinted, with alterations, from "life and letters," iii., page .) the following letter to the late sir james paget refers to the same subject.) down, november th, . i am very much obliged for your essay, which has interested me greatly. what indomitable activity you have! it is a surprising thought that the diseases of plants should illustrate human pathology. i have the german "encyclopaedia," and a few weeks ago told my son francis that the article on the diseases of plants would be well worth his study; but i did not know it was written by dr. frank, for whom i entertain a high respect as a first-rate observer and experimentiser, though for some unknown reason he has been a good deal snubbed in germany. i can give you one good case of regrowth in plants, recently often observed by me, though only externally, as i do not know enough of histology to follow out details. it is the tip of the radicle of a germinating common bean. the case is remarkable in some respects, for the tip is sensitive to various stimuli, and transmits an order, causing the upper part of the radicle to bend. when the tip (for a length of about mm.) is cut transversely off, the radicle is not acted on by gravitation or other irritants, such as contact, etc., etc., but a new tip is regenerated in from two to four days, and then the radicle is again acted on by gravitation, and will bend to the centre of the earth. the tip of the radicle is a kind of brain to the whole growing part of the radicle! ( / . we are indebted to mr. archer-hind for the translation of the following passage from plato ("timaeus," a): "the reason is every man's guardian genius (daimon), and has its habitation in our brain; it is this that raises man (who is a plant, not of earth but of heaven) to an erect posture, suspending the head and root of us from the heavens, which are the birthplace of our soul, and keeping all the body upright." on the perceptions of plants, see "nature," november th, --a lecture delivered at the glasgow meeting of the british association by francis darwin. see also bonitz, "index aristotelicus," s.v. phuton.) my observation will be published in about a week's time, and i would have sent you the book, but i do not suppose that there is anything else in the book which would interest you. i am delighted that you have drawn attention to galls. they have always seemed to me profoundly interesting. many years ago i began (but failed for want of time, strength, and health, as on infinitely many other occasions) to experimentise on plants, by injecting into their tissues some alkaloids and the poison of wasps, to see if i could make anything like galls. if i remember rightly, in a few cases the tissues were thickened and hardened. i began these experiments because if by different poisons i could have affected slightly and differently the tissues of the same plant, i thought there would be no insuperable difficulty in the fittest poisons being developed by insects so as to produce galls adapted for them. every character, as far as i can see, is apt to vary. judging from one of your sentences you will smile at this. to any one believing in my pangenesis (if such a man exists) there does not seem to me any extreme difficulty in understanding why plants have such little power of regeneration; for there is reason to think that my imaginary gemmules have small power of passing from cell to cell. ( / . on regeneration after injury, see massart, "la cicatrisation chez les vegetaux," in volume ( ) of the "memoires couronnes," published by the royal academy of belgium. an account of the literature is given by the author.) forgive me for scribbling at such unreasonable length; but you are to blame for having interested me so much. p.s.--perhaps you may remember that some two years ago you asked me to lunch with you, and proposed that i should offer myself again. whenever i next come to london, i will do so, and thus have the pleasure of seeing you. letter . to w. thiselton-dyer. ( / . "the power of movement in plants" was published early in november, . sir w. thiselton-dyer, in writing to thank darwin for a copy of the book, had (november th) compared a structure in the seedling welwitschia with the "peg" of cucurbita (see "power of movement," page ). dyer wrote: "one peculiar feature in the germinating embryo is a lateral hypocotyledonary process, which eventually serves as an absorbent organ, by which the nutriment of the endosperm is conveyed to the seedling. such a structure was quite new to me, and bower and i were disposed to see in it a representative of the foot in selaginella, when i saw the account of flahault's 'peg.'" flahault, it should be explained, was the discoverer of the curious peg in cucurbita. prof. bower wrote a paper ("on the germination and histology of the seedling of welwitschia mirabilis" in the "quart. journ. microscop. sci." xxi., , page .) down, november th [ ]. very many thanks for your most kind note, but you think too highly of our work--not but what this is very pleasant. i am deeply interested about welwitschia. when at work on the pegs or projections i could not imagine how they were first developed, before they could have been of mere mechanical use. now it seems possible that a circle between radicle and hypocotyl may be permeable to fluids, and thus have given rise to projections so as to expose larger surface. could you test welwitschia with permanganate of potassium: if, like my pegs, the lower surface would be coloured brown like radicle, and upper surface left white like hypocotyl. if such an idea as yours, of an absorbing organ, had ever crossed my mind, i would have tried many hypocotyls in weak citrate of ammonia, to see if it penetrated on line of junction more easily than elsewhere. i daresay the projection in abronia and mirabilis may be an absorbent organ. it was very good fun bothering the seeds of cucurbita by planting them edgeways, as would never naturally occur, and then the peg could not act properly. many of the germans are very contemptuous about making out use of organs; but they may sneer the souls out of their bodies, and i for one shall think it the most interesting part of natural history. indeed, you are greatly mistaken if you doubt for one moment on the very great value of your constant and most kind assistance to us. i have not seen the pamphlet, and shall be very glad to keep it. frank, when he comes home, will be much interested and pleased with your letter. pray give my kindest remembrance to mrs. dyer. this is a very untidy note, but i am very tired with dissecting worms all day. read the last chapter of our book, and then you will know the whole contents. letter . to h. vochting. down, december th, . absence from home has prevented me from sooner thanking you for your kind present of your several publications. i procured some time ago your "organbilding" ( / . "organbildung im pflanzenreich," .) etc., but it was too late for me to profit by it for my book, as i was correcting the press. i read only parts, but my son francis read the whole with care and told me much about it, which greatly interested me. i also read your article in the "bot. zeitung." my son began at once experimenting, to test your views, and this very night will read a paper before the linnean society on the roots of rubus ( / . francis darwin, "the theory of the growth of cuttings" ("linn. soc. journ." xviii.). [i take this opportunity of expressing my regret that at page , owing to neglect of part of vochting's facts, i made a criticism of his argument which cannot be upheld.--f.d.].), and i think that you will be pleased to find how well his conclusions agree with yours. he will of course send you a copy of his paper when it is printed. i have sent him your letter, which will please him if he agrees with me; for your letter has given me real pleasure, and i did not at all know what the many great physiologists of germany, switzerland, and holland would think of it ["the power of movement," etc.]. i was quite sorry to read sachs' views about root-forming matter, etc., for i have an unbounded admiration for sachs. in this country we are dreadfully behind in physiological botany. letter . to a. de candolle. down, january th, . it was extremely kind of you to write me so long and valuable a letter, the whole of which deserves careful consideration. i have been particularly pleased at what you say about the new terms used, because i have often been annoyed at the multitude of new terms lately invented in all branches of biology in germany; and i doubted much whether i was not quite as great a sinner as those whom i have blamed. when i read your remarks on the word "purpose" in your "phytographie," i vowed that i would not use it again; but it is not easy to cure oneself of a vicious habit. it is also difficult for any one who tries to make out the use of a structure to avoid the word purpose. i see that i have probably gone beyond my depth in discussing plurifoliate and unifoliate leaves; but in such a case as that of mimosa albida, where rudiments of additional leaflets are present, we must believe that they were well developed in the progenitor of the plant. so again, when the first true leaf differs widely in shape from the older leaves, and resembles the older leaves in allied species, is it not the most simple explanation that such leaves have retained their ancient character, as in the case of the embryos of so many animals? your suggestion of examining the movements of vertical leaves with an equal number of stomata on both sides, with reference to the light, seems to me an excellent one, and i hope that my son francis may follow it up. but i will not trouble you with any more remarks about our book. my son will write to you about the diagram. let me add that i shall ever remember with pleasure your visit here last autumn. letter . to j. lubbock (lord avebury). down, april th [ ]. will you be so kind as to send and lend me the desmodium gyrans by the bearer who brings this note. shortly after you left i found my notice of the seeds in the "gardeners' chronicle," which please return hereafter, as i have no other copy. ( / . "note on the achenia of pumilio argyrolepis." "gardeners' chronicle," , page .) i do not think that i made enough about the great power of absorption of water by the corolla-like calyx or pappus. it seems to me not unlikely that the pappus of other compositae may be serviceable to the seeds, whilst lying on the ground, by absorbing the dew which would be especially apt to condense on the fine points and filaments of the pappus. anyhow, this is a point which might be easily investigated. seeds of tussilago, or groundsel ( / . it is not clear whether tussilago or groundsel (senecio vulgaris) is meant; or whether he was not sure which of the two plants becomes slimy when wetted.), emit worm-like masses of mucus, and it would be curious to ascertain whether wetting the pappus alone would suffice to cause such secretion. ( / . see letter .) letter . to g.j. romanes. down, april th, . i am extremely glad of your success with the flashing light. ( / . romanes' paper on the effect of intermittent light on heliotropism was the "proc. royal soc." volume liv., page .) if plants are acted on by light, like some of the lower animals, there is an additional point of interest, as it seems to me, in your results. most botanists believe that light causes a plant to bend to it in as direct a manner as light affects nitrate of silver. i believe that it merely tells the plant to which side to bend, and i see indications of this belief prevailing even with sachs. now it might be expected that light would act on a plant in something the same manner as on the lower animals. as you are at work on this subject, i will call your attention to another point. wiesner, of vienna (who has lately published a great book on heliotropism) finds that an intermittent light, say of minutes, produces the same effect as a continuous light of, say m. ( / . wiesner's papers on heliotropism are in the "denkschriften" of the vienna academy, volumes and .) so that van tieghem, in the first part of his book which has just appeared, remarks, the light during m. out of the m. produced no effect. i observed an analogous case described in my book. ( / . "power of movement," page .) wiesner and van tieghem seem to think that this is explained by calling the whole process "induction," borrowing a term used by some physico-chemists (of whom i believe roscoe is one) and implying an agency which does not produce any effect for some time, and continues its effect for some time after the cause has ceased. i believe that photographic paper is an instance. i must ask leonard ( / . mr. darwin's son.) whether an interrupted light acts on it in the same manner as on a plant. at present i must still believe in my explanation that it is the contrast between light and darkness which excites a plant. i have forgotten my main object in writing--viz., to say that i believe (and have so stated) that seedlings vary much in their sensitiveness to light; but i did not prove this, for there are many difficulties, whether the time of incipient curvature or the amount of curvature is taken as the criterion. moreover they vary according to age, and perhaps from vigour of growth, and there seems inherent variability, as strasburger (whom i quote) found with spores. if the curious anomaly observed by you is due to varying sensitiveness, ought not all the seedlings to bend if the flashes were at longer intervals of time? according to my notion of contrast between light and darkness being the stimulus, i should expect that if flashes were made sufficiently slow it would be a powerful stimulus, and that you would suddenly arrive at a period when the result would suddenly become great. on the other hand, as far as my experience goes, what one expects rarely happens. letter . to julius wiesner. down, october th, . i thank you sincerely for your very kind letter, and for the present of your new work. ( / . "das bewegungsvermogen der pflanze," . one of us has given some account of wiesner's book in the presidential address to section d of the british association, . wiesner's divergence from darwin's views is far-reaching, and includes the main thesis of the "power of movement." see "life and letters," iii., page , for an interesting letter to wiesner.) my son francis, if he had been at home, would have likewise sent his thanks. i will immediately begin to read your book, and when i have finished it will write again. but i read german so very slowly that your book will take me a considerable time, for i cannot read for more than half an hour each day. i have, also, been working too hard lately, and with very little success, so that i am going to leave home for a time and try to forget science. i quite expect that you will find some gross errors in my work, for you are a very much more skilful and profound experimentalist than i am. although i always am endeavouring to be cautious and to mistrust myself, yet i know well how apt i am to make blunders. physiology, both animal and vegetable, is so difficult a subject, that it seems to me to progress chiefly by the elimination or correction of ever-recurring mistakes. i hope that you will not have upset my fundamental notion that various classes of movement result from the modification of a universally present movement of circumnutation. i am very glad that you will again discuss the view of the turgescence of the cells being the cause of the movement of parts. i adopted de vries' views as seeming to me the most probable, but of late i have felt more doubts on this head. ( / . see "power of movement," page . de vries' work is published in the "bot. zeitung," , page .) letter . to j.d. hooker. glenrhydding house, patterdale, penrith, june th, . it was real pleasure to me to see once again your well-known handwriting on the outside of your note. i do not know how long you have returned from italy, but i am very sorry that you are so bothered already with work and visits. i cannot but think that you are too kind and civil to visitors, and too conscientious about your official work. but a man cannot cure his virtues, any more than his vices, after early youth; so you must bear your burthen. it is, however, a great misfortune for science that you have so very little spare time for the "genera." i can well believe what an awful job the palms must be. even their size must be very inconvenient. you and bentham must hate the monocotyledons, for what work the orchideae must have been, and gramineae and cyperaceae will be. i am rather despondent about myself, and my troubles are of an exactly opposite nature to yours, for idleness is downright misery to me, as i find here, as i cannot forget my discomfort for an hour. i have not the heart or strength at my age to begin any investigation lasting years, which is the only thing which i enjoy; and i have no little jobs which i can do. so i must look forward to down graveyard as the sweetest place on earth. this place is magnificently beautiful, and i enjoy the scenery, though weary of it; and the weather has been very cold and almost always hazy. i am so glad that your tour has answered for lady hooker. we return home on the first week of july, and should be truly glad to aid lady hooker in any possible manner which she will suggest. i have written to my gardener to send you plants of oxalis corniculata (and seeds if possible). i should think so common a weed was never asked for before,--and what a poor return for the hundreds of plants which i have received from kew! i hope that i have not bothered you by writing so long a note, and i did not intend to do so. if asa gray has returned with you, please give him my kindest remembrances. letter . to j.d. hooker. october nd, . i am investigating the action of carbonate of ammonia on chlorophyll, which makes me want the plants in my list. ( / . "the action of carbonate of ammonia on chlorophyll bodies." "linn. soc. journ." xix., page , .) i have incidentally observed one point in euphorbia, which has astonished me--viz. that in the fine fibrous roots of euphorbia, the alternate rows of cells in their roots must differ physiologically, though not in external appearance, as their contents after the action of carbonate of ammonia differ most conspicuously... wiesner of vienna has just published a book vivisecting me in the most courteous, but awful manner, about the "power of movement in plants." ( / . see letter , note.) thank heaven, he admits almost all my facts, after re-trying all my experiments; but gives widely different interpretation of the facts. i think he proves me wrong in several cases, but i am convinced that he is utterly erroneous and fanciful in other explanations. no man was ever vivisected in so sweet a manner before, as i am in this book. chapter .xii. vivisection and miscellaneous subjects, - . .xii.i. vivisection, - . letter . to lord playfair. ( / . a bill was introduced to the house of commons by messrs. lyon playfair, walpole and ashley, in the spring of , but was withdrawn on the appointment of a royal commission to inquire into the whole question. some account of the anti-vivisection agitation, the introduction of bills, and the appointment of a royal commission is given in the "life and letters," iii., page , where the more interesting of darwin's letters on the question are published.) down, may th, . i hope that you will excuse my troubling you once again. i received some days ago a letter from prof. huxley, in edinburgh, who says with respect to your bill: "the professors here are all in arms about it, and as the papers have associated my name with the bill, i shall have to repudiate it publicly, unless something can be done. but what in the world is to be done?" ( / . the letter is published in full in mr. l. huxley's interesting chapter on the vivisection question in his father's "life," i., page .) dr. burdon sanderson is in nearly the same frame of mind about it. the newspapers take different views of the purport of the bill, but it seems generally supposed that it would prevent demonstrations on animals rendered insensible, and this seems to me a monstrous provision. it would, moreover, probably defeat the end desired; for dr. b. sanderson, who demonstrates to his class on animals rendered insensible, told me that some of his students had declared to him that unless he had shown them what he had, they would have experimented on live animals for themselves. certainly i do not believe that any one could thoroughly understand the action of the heart without having seen it in action. i do not doubt that you wish to aid the progress of physiology, and at the same time save animals from all useless suffering; and in this case i believe that you could not do a greater service than to warn the home secretary with respect to the appointment of royal commissioners, that ordinary doctors know little or nothing about physiology as a science, and are incompetent to judge of its high importance and of the probability of its hereafter conferring great benefits on mankind. letter . to lord playfair. down, may th. i must write one line to thank you for your very kind letter, and to say that, after despatching my last note, it suddenly occurred to me that i had been rude in calling one of the provisions of your bill "monstrous" or "absurd"--i forget which. but when i wrote the expression it was addressed to the bigots who, i believed, had forced you to a compromise. i cannot understand what dr. b. sanderson could have been about not to have objected with respect to the clause of not demonstrating on animals rendered insensible. i am extremely sorry that you have had trouble and vexation on the subject. it is a most disagreeable and difficult one. i am not personally concerned, as i never tried an experiment on a living animal, nor am i a physiologist; but i know enough to see how ruinous it would be to stop all progress in so grand a science as physiology. i commenced the agitation amongst the physiologists for this reason, and because i have long felt very keenly on the question of useless vivisection, and believed, though without any good evidence, that there was not always, even in this country, care enough taken. pray forgive me this note, so much about myself... letter . to g.j. romanes. ( / . published in "life of romanes," page , under - .) down, june th [ ]. your letter has made me as proud and conceited as ten peacocks. ( / . this may perhaps refer to darwin being elected the only honorary member of the physiological society, a fact that was announced in a letter from romanes june st, , published in the "life" of romanes, page . dr. sharpey was subsequently elected a second honorary member.) i am inclined to think that writing against the bigots about vivisection is as hopeless as stemming a torrent with a reed. frank, who has just come here, and who sputters with indignation on the subject, takes an opposite line, and perhaps he is right; anyhow, he had the best of an argument with me on the subject...it seems to me the physiologists are now in the position of a persecuted religious sect, and they must grin and bear the persecution, however cruel and unjust, as well as they can. letter . to t. lauder brunton. ( / . in november, , an absolutely groundless charge was brought by the victoria street society for the protection of animals from vivisection against dr. ferrier for an infringement of the vivisection act. the experiment complained of was the removal of the brain of a monkey and the subsequent testing of the animal's powers of reacting to certain treatment. the fact that the operation had been performed six months before the case came into court would alone have been fatal to the prosecution. moreover, it was not performed by dr. ferrier, but by another observer, who was licensed under the act to keep the monkey alive after the operation, which was performed under anaesthetics. thus the prosecution completely broke down, and the case was dismissed. ( / . from the "british medical journal," november th, . see also "times," november th, .) the sympathy with dr. ferrier in the purely scientific and medical world was very strong, and the british medical association undertook the defence. the prosecution did good in one respect, inasmuch as it led to the formation of the science defence association, to which reference is made in some of mr. darwin's letters to sir lauder brunton. the association still exists, and continues to do good work. part of the following letter was published in the "british medical journal," december rd, .) down, november th, . i saw in some paper that there would probably be a subscription to pay dr. ferrier's legal expenses in the late absurd and wicked prosecution. as i live so retired i might not hear of the subscription, and i should regret beyond measure not to have the pleasure and honour of showing my sympathy [with] and admiration of dr. ferrier's researches. i know that you are his friend, as i once met him at your house; so i earnestly beg you to let me hear if there is any means of subscribing, as i should much like to be an early subscriber. i am sure that you will forgive me for troubling you under these circumstances. p.s.--i finished reading a few days ago the several physiological and medical papers which you were so kind as to send me. ( / . some of lauder brunton's publications.) i was much interested by several of them, especially by that on night-sweating, and almost more by others on digestion. i have seldom been made to realise more vividly the wondrous complexity of our whole system. how any one of us keeps alive for a day is a marvel! letter . t. lauder brunton to charles darwin. , welbeck street, london, november st, . i thank you most sincerely for your kind letter and your offer of assistance to dr. ferrier. there is at present no subscription list, as the british medical association have taken up the case, and ought to pay the expenses. should these make such a call upon the funds of the association as to interfere with its other objects, the whole or part of the expenses will be paid by those who have subscribed to a guarantee fund. to this fund there are already a number of subscribers, whose names are taken by professor gerald yeo, one of the secretaries of the physiological society. they have not subscribed a definite sum, but have simply fixed a maximum which they will subscribe, if necessary, on the understanding that only so much as is required shall be asked from each subscriber in proportion to his subscription. it is proposed to send by-and-by a list of the most prominent members of this guarantee fund to the "times" and other papers, and not only every scientific man, but every member of the medical profession, will rejoice to see your name in the list. dr. ferrier has been quite worn out by the worry of this prosecution, or, as it might well be called, persecution, and has gone down to shanklin for a couple of days. he returns this afternoon, and i have sent on your letter to await his arrival, knowing as i do that it will be to him like cold water to a thirsty soul. letter . to t. lauder brunton. down, november nd, . many thanks for your very kind and interesting letter... i write now to beg a favour. i do not in the least know what others have guaranteed in relation to dr. ferrier. ( / . in a letter dated november th, , sir lauder brunton wrote in reply to mr. darwin's inquiry as to the amount of the subscriptions: "when i ascertain what they intend to give under the new conditions--viz., that the subscriptions are not to be applied to ferrier's defence, but to the defence of others who may be attacked and to a diffusion of knowledge regarding the nature and purposes of vivisection, i will let you know...") would twenty guineas be sufficient? if not, will you kindly take the trouble to have my name put down for thirty or forty guineas, as you may think best. if, on the other hand, no one else has guaranteed for as much as twenty guineas, will you put me down for ten or fifteen guineas, though i should like to give twenty best. you can understand that i do not wish to be conspicuous either by too little or too much; so i beg you to be so very kind as to act for me. i have a multitude of letters which i must answer, so excuse haste. letter . to t. lauder brunton. ( / . the following letter was written in reply to sir t. lauder brunton's suggestion that mr. darwin should be proposed as president of the science defence association.) , bryanston street, portman square, december th, . i have been thinking a good deal about the suggestion which you made to me the other day, on the supposition that you could not get some man like the president of the college of physicians to accept the office. my wife is strongly opposed to my accepting the office, as she feels sure that the anxiety thus caused would tell heavily on my health. but there is a much stronger objection suggested to me by one of my relations--namely, no man ought to allow himself to be placed at the head (though only nominally so) of an associated movement, unless he has the means of judging of the acts performed by the association, after hearing each point discussed. this occurred to me when you spoke to me, and i think that i said something to this effect. anyhow, i have in several analogous cases acted on this principle. take, for instance, any preliminary statement which the association may publish. i might feel grave doubts about the wisdom or justice of some points, and this solely from my not having heard them discussed. i am therefore inclined to think that it would not be right in me to accept the nominal presidency of your association, and thus have to act blindly. as far as i can at present see, i fear that i must confine my assistance to subscribing as large a sum to the association as any member gives. i am sorry to trouble you, but i have thought it best to tell you at once of the doubts which have arisen in my mind. letter . to lauder brunton. ( / . sir t. lauder brunton had written (february th) to mr. darwin explaining that two opinions were held as to the constitution of the proposed science defence association: one that it should consist of a small number of representative men; the other that it should, if possible, embrace every medical practitioner in the country. sir lauder brunton adds: "i should be very greatly obliged if you would kindly say what you think of the two schemes.") down, february th, . i am very much obliged for your information in regard to the association, about which i feel a great interest. it seems to me highly desirable that the association should include as many medical and scientific men as possible throughout the whole country, who could illumine those capable of illumination on the necessity of physiological research; but that the association should be governed by a council of powerful men, not too many in number. such a council, as representing a large body of medical men, would have more power in the eyes of vote-hunting politicians than a small body representing only themselves. from what i see of country practitioners, i think that their annual subscription ought to be very small. but would it not be possible to add to the rules some such statement as the following one: "that by a donation of... pounds, or of any larger sum, from those who feel a deep interest in the progress of medical science, the donor shall become a life member." i, for one, would gladly subscribe or pounds. if such a plan were approved by the leading medical men of london, two or three thousand pounds might at once be collected; and if any such sum could be announced as already subscribed, when the program of the association is put forth, it would have, as i believe, a considerable influence on the country, and would attract the attention of country practitioners. the anti-corn law league owed much of its enormous power to several wealthy men laying down , pounds; for the subscription of a good sum of money is the best proof of earnest conviction. you asked for my opinion on the above points, and i have given it freely, though well aware that from living so retired a life my judgment cannot be worth much. have you read mr. gurney's articles in the "fortnightly" and "cornhill?" ( / . "fortnightly review," xxx., page ; "cornhill magazine," xlv., page . the articles are by the late edmund gurney, author of "the power of sound," .) they seem to me very clever, though obscurely written; and i agree with almost everything he says, except with some passages which appear to imply that no experiments should be tried unless some immediate good can be predicted, and this is a gigantic mistake contradicted by the whole history of science. p.s.--that is a curious fact about babies. i remember hearing on good authority that very young babies when moved are apt to clutch hold of anything, and i thought of your explanation; but your case during sleep is a much more interesting one. very many thanks for the book, which i much wanted to see; it shall be sent back to-day, as from you, to the society. .xii.ii. miscellaneous subjects, - . letter . to canon farrar. ( / . the lecture which forms the subject of this letter was one delivered by canon farrar at the royal institution, "on some defects in public school education.") down, march th, . i am very much obliged for your kind present of your lecture. we have read it aloud with the greatest interest, and i agree to every word. i admire your candour and wonderful freedom from prejudice; for i feel an inward conviction that if i had been a great classical scholar i should never have been able to have judged fairly on the subject. as it is, i am one of the root and branch men, and would leave classics to be learnt by those alone who have sufficient zeal and the high taste requisite for their appreciation. you have indeed done a great public service in speaking out so boldly. scientific men might rail forever, and it would only be said that they railed at what they did not understand. i was at school at shrewsbury under a great scholar, dr. butler; i learnt absolutely nothing, except by amusing myself by reading and experimenting in chemistry. dr. butler somehow found this out, and publicly sneered at me before the whole school for such gross waste of time; i remember he called me a pococurante ( / . told in "life and letters," i., page .), which, not understanding, i thought was a dreadful name. i wish you had shown in your lecture how science could practically be taught in a great school; i have often heard it objected that this could not be done, and i never knew what to say in answer. i heartily hope that you may live to see your zeal and labour produce good fruit. letter . to herbert spencer. down, december th [ ]. i thank you very sincerely for your kind present of your "first principles." ( / . "this must have been the second edition." (note by mr. spencer.)) i earnestly hope that before long i may have strength to study the work as it ought to be studied, for i am certain to find or re-find much that is deeply interesting. in many parts of your "principles of biology" i was fairly astonished at the prodigality of your original views. ( / . see "life and letters," iii., pages , .) most of the chapters furnished suggestions for whole volumes of future researches. as i have heard that you have changed your residence, i am forced to address this to messrs. williams & norgate; and for the same reason i gave some time ago the same address to mr. murray for a copy of my book on variation, etc., which is now finished, but delayed by the index-maker. letter . to t.h. huxley. ( / . this letter refers to a movement set on foot at a meeting held at the freemasons' tavern, on november th, , of which an account is given in the "times" of november rd, , at which mark pattison, mr. henry sidgwick, sir benjamin brodie, professors rolleston, seeley, huxley, etc., were present. the "times" says that the meeting was held "by members of the universities and others interested in the promotion of mature study and scientific research in england." one of the headings of the "program of discussion" was "the abolition of prize fellowships.") sevenoaks, october nd [ ]. i have been glad to sign and forward the paper, for i have very long thought it a sin that the immense funds of the universities should be wasted in fellowships, except a few for paying for education. but when i was at cambridge it would have been an unjustifiable sneer to have spoken of the place as one for education, always excepting the men who went in for honours. you speak of another resolution "in the interest of the anti-letter-writing association"--but alas, this never arrived! i should like a society formed so that every one might receive pleasant letters and never answer them. we return home on saturday, after three weeks of the most astounding dullness, doing nothing and thinking of nothing. i hope my brain likes it--as for myself, it is dreadful doing nothing. ( / . darwin returned to down from sevenoaks on saturday, october th, , which fixes the date of the letter.) letter . to lady derby. down, saturday [ ?]. if you had called here after i had read the article you would have found a much perplexed man. ( / . probably sir w. crookes' "researches in the phenomena of spiritualism" (reprinted from the "quarterly journal of science"), london, . other papers by crookes are in the "proceedings of the society for psychical research.") i cannot disbelieve mr. crooke's statement, nor can i believe in his result. it has removed some of my difficulty that the supposed power is not an anomaly, but is common in a lesser degree to various persons. it is also a consolation to reflect that gravity acts at any distance, in some wholly unknown manner, and so may nerve-force. nothing is so difficult to decide as where to draw a just line between scepticism and credulity. it was a very long time before scientific men would believe in the fall of aerolites; and this was chiefly owing to so much bad evidence, as in the present case, being mixed up with the good. all sorts of objects were said to have been seen falling from the sky. i very much hope that a number of men, such as professor stokes, will be induced to witness mr. crooke's experiments. ( / . the two following extracts may be given in further illustration of darwin's guiding principle in weighing evidence. he wrote to robert chambers, april th, : "thanks also for extract out of newspaper about rooks and crows; i wish i dared trust it. i see in cutting the pages [of chambers' book, "ice and water"]...that you fulminate against the scepticism of scientific men. you would not fulminate quite so much if you had had so many wild-goose chases after facts stated by men not trained to scientific accuracy. i often vow to myself that i will utterly disregard every statement made by any one who has not shown the world he can observe accurately." in a letter to dr. dohrn, of naples, january th, , darwin wrote: "forgive me for suggesting one caution; as demosthenes said, 'action, action, action,' was the soul of eloquence, so is caution almost the soul of science.") letter . to j. burdon sanderson. down, july th, . some little time ago mr. simon ( / . now sir john simon) sent me the last report, and your statements about contagion deeply interested me. by the way, if you see mr. simon, and can remember it, will you thank him for me; i was so busy at the time that i did not write. having been in correspondence with paget lately on another subject, i mentioned to him an analogy which has struck me much, now that we know that sheep-pox is fungoid; and this analogy pleased him. it is that of fairy rings, which are believed to spread from a centre, and when they intersect the intersecting portion dies out, as the mycelium cannot grow where it has grown during previous years. so, again, i have never seen a ring within a ring; this seems to me a parallel case to a man commonly having the smallpox only once. i imagine that in both cases the mycelium must consume all the matter on which it can subsist. letter . to a. gapitche. ( / . the following letter was written to the author (under the pseudonym of gapitche) of a pamphlet entitled "quelques mots sur l'eternite du corps humaine" (nice, ). mr. gapitche's idea was that man might, by perfect adaptation to his surroundings, indefinitely prolong the duration of life. we owe mr. darwin's letter to the kindness of herr vetter, editor of the well-known journal "kosmos.") down, february th, . i suppose that no one can prove that death is inevitable, but the evidence in favour of this belief is overwhelmingly strong from the evidence of all other living creatures. i do not believe that it is by any means invariably true that the higher organisms always live longer than the lower ones. elephants, parrots, ravens, tortoises, and some fish live longer than man. as evolution depends on a long succession of generations, which implies death, it seems to me in the highest degree improbable that man should cease to follow the general law of evolution, and this would follow if he were to be immortal. this is all that i can say. letter . to j. popper. ( / . mr. popper had written about a proposed flying machine in which birds were to take a part.) down, february th, . i am sorry to say that i cannot give you the least aid, as i have never attended to any mechanical subjects. i should doubt whether it would be possible to train birds to fly in a certain direction in a body, though i am aware that they have been taught some tricks. their mental powers are probably much below those of mammals. it is said, and i suppose truly, that an eagle will carry a lamb. this shows that a bird may have great power for a short distance. i cannot remember your essay with sufficient distinctness to make any remarks on it. when a man is old and works hard, one subject drives another out of his head. letter . to t.h. huxley. worthing, september th, . ( / . mr. anthony rich left his house at worthing as a legacy to mr. huxley. see huxley's "life and letters," ii., pages , .) we have been paying mr. rich a little visit, and he has often spoken of you, and i think he enjoyed much your and mrs. huxley's visit here. but my object in writing now is to tell you something, which i am very doubtful whether it is worth while for you to hear, because it is uncertain. my brother erasmus has left me half his fortune, which is very considerable. therefore, i thought myself bound to tell mr. rich of this, stating the large amount, as far as the executors as yet know it roughly. i then added that my wife and self thought that, under these new circumstances, he was most fully justified in altering his will and leaving his property in some other way. i begged him to take a week to consider what i had told him, and then by letter to inform me of the result. but he would not, however, hardly allow me to finish what i had to say, and expressed a firm determination not to alter his will, adding that i had five sons to provide for. after a short pause he implied (but unfortunately he here became very confused and forgot a word, which on subsequent reflection i think was probably "reversionary")--he implied that there was a chance, whether good or bad i know not, of his becoming possessed of some other property, and he finished by saying distinctly, "i will bequeath this to huxley." what the amount may be (i fear not large), and what the chance may be, god only knows; and one cannot cross-examine a man about his will. he did not bind me to secrecy, so i think i am justified in telling you what passed, but whether it is wise on my part to send so vague a story, i am not at all sure; but as a general rule it is best to tell everything. as i know that you hate writing letters, do not trouble yourself to answer this. p.s.--on further reflection i should like to hear that you receive this note safely. i have used up all my black-edged paper. letter . to anthony rich. down, february th, . it is always a pleasure to me to receive a letter from you. i am very sorry to hear that you have been more troubled than usual with your old complaint. any one who looked at you would think that you had passed through life with few evils, and yet you have had an unusual amount of suffering. as a turnkey remarked in one of dickens' novels, "life is a rum thing." ( / . this we take to be an incorrect version of mr. roker's remark (in reference to tom martin, the butcher), "what a rum thing time is, ain't it, neddy?" ("pickwick," chapter xlii.). a careful student finds that women are also apostrophised as "rum": see the remarks of the dirty-faced man ("pickwick," chapter xiv.).) as for myself, i have been better than usual until about a fortnight ago, when i had a cough, and this pulled me down and made me miserable to a strange degree; but my dear old wife insisted on my taking quinine, and, though i have very little faith in medicine, this, i think, has done me much good. well, we are both so old that we must expect some troubles: i shall be seventy-three on feb. th. i have been glad to hear about the pine-leaves, and you are the first man who has confirmed my account that they are drawn in by the base, with a very few exceptions. ( / . "the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms," , page .) with respect to your wandsworth case, i think that if i had heard of it before publishing, i would have said nothing about the ledges ( / . "ledges of earth on steep hill-sides" (ibid., page ).); for the grisedale case ( / . "the steep, grass-covered sides of a mountainous valley in westmorland, called grisedale, were marked in many places with innumerable, almost horizontal, little ledges...their formation was in no way connected with the action of worms (and their absence is an inexplicable fact)...(ibid., page .), mentioned in my book and observed whilst i was correcting the proof-sheets, made me feel rather doubtful. yet the corniche case ( / . ibid., page .) shows that worms at least aid in making the ledges. nevertheless, i wish i had said nothing about the confounded ledges. the success of this worm book has been almost laughable. i have, however, been plagued with an endless stream of letters on the subject; most of them very foolish and enthusiastic, but some containing good facts, which i have used in correcting yesterday the "sixth thousand." your friend george's work about the viscous state of the earth and tides and the moon has lately been attracting much attention ( / . published in the "philosophical transactions of the royal society," , , .), and all the great judges think highly of the work. he intends to try for the plumian professorship of mathematics and natural philosophy at cambridge, which is a good and honourable post of about pounds a year. i think that he will get it ( / . he was elected plumian professor of astronomy and experimental philosophy in .) when challis is dead, and he is very near his end. he has all the great men--sir w. thomson, adams, stokes, etc.--on his side. he has lately been chief examiner for the mathematical tripos, which was tremendous work; and the day before yesterday he started for southampton for a five-weeks' tour to jamaica for complete rest, to see the blue mountains, and escape the rigour of the early spring. i believe that george will some day be a great scientific swell. the war office has just offered leonard a post in the government survey at southampton, and very civilly told him to go down and inspect the place, and accept or not as he liked. so he went down, but has decided that it would not be worth his while to accept, as it would entail his giving up his expedition (on which he had been ordered) to queensland, in australia, to observe the transit of venus. ( / . major leonard darwin, late r.e., served in several scientific expeditions, including the transits of venus of and .) dear old william at southampton has not been very well, but is now better. he has had too much work--a willing horse is always overworked--and all the arrangements for receiving the british association there this summer have been thrown on his shoulders. but, good heavens! what a deal i have written about my sons. i have had some hard work this autumn with the microscope; but this is over, and i have only to write out the papers for the linnean society. ( / . i. "the action of carbonate of ammonia on the roots of certain plants." [read march th, .] "journ. linn. soc." volume xix., , page . ii. "the action of carbonate of ammonia on chlorophyll-bodies." [read march th, .] ibid., page .) we have had a good many visitors; but none who would have interested you, except perhaps mrs. ritchie, the daughter of thackeray, who is a most amusing and pleasant person. i have not seen huxley for some time, but my wife heard this morning from mrs. huxley, who wrote from her bed, with a bad account of herself and several of her children; but none, i hope, are at all dangerously ill. farewell, my kind, good friend. many thanks about the picture, which if i survive you, and this i do not expect, shall be hung in my study as a perpetual memento of you. ( / . the concluding chapter of the "life and letters" gives some account of the gradual failure in health which was perceptible in the last year of mr. darwin's life. he died on april th, , in his th year.) the end. index. index. [the german a-, o-, u-diaeresis are treated as a, o, u, not as ae, oe, ue.] aberrant genera, darwin's work on. abich, on vesuvius. abinger, excavations of roman villa at. -plants from. abinger hall, darwin visits. -lord farrer's recollections of darwin at. abiogenesis, huxley's address on biogenesis and. abortion, romanes on. abrolhos, plants from the. abromia. abrus precatorius, dispersal of seeds. abstract, darwin's dislike of writing papers in. abstract, the name applied by darwin to the "origin." abutilon, f. muller's experiments on. abyssinia, flora of. "academy," darwin's opinion of the. acanthaceae. acceleration of development, cope and hyatt on retardation and. -reference in the "origin" to. accumulation, of deposits in relation to earth-movements. -of specific differences. -of sterility. -of varieties. accuracy, difficult to attain. -the soul of natural history. aceras, fertilisation of. -monstrous flower. acineta, darwin unable to fertilise. aconitum, peloria and reversion. acropera, atrophy of ovules. -darwin's mistake over. -fertilisation of. -relation to gongora. -j. scott's work on. acropera loddigesii, abnormal structure of ovary. -darwin's account of flower. -artificial fertilisation. -relation to a. luteola. -j. scott's observations. -two sexual conditions of. -a. luteola, darwin's observations on. -fertilisation of. -flowers of. -structure of ovary. adaptation, darwin's difficulty in understanding. -hybrids and. -not the governing law in geographical distribution. -more clearly seen in animals than plants. -natural selection and. -in orchids. -resemblances due to. -in woodpecker. adenanthera pavonina, seed-dispersal by parrots. adenocarpus, a mediterranean genus in the cameroons. adlumia. adoxa, difference in flowers of same plant. aecidium elatinum, witches'-broom fungus. aegialitis sanctae-helenae. aegilops triticoides, hybrids. affaiblissement, a. st. hilaire on. africa, connection with ceylon. -connection with india. -continent of lemuria and. -considered by murchison oldest continent. -plants of equatorial mountains of. africa (east,) coral reefs on coast. africa (south), plants of. -relation of floras of western europe to. africa (west), botanical relation to java. agassiz, alex., "three cruises of the 'blake.'" -his belief in evolution the result of f. muller's writings. -account of florida coral-reefs. -letters to. -visits down. agassiz, louis jean rodolphe ( - ): entered a college at bienne at the age of ten, and from to he was a student at the academy of lausanne. agassiz afterwards spent some years as a student in the universities of zurich, heidelberg, and munich, where he gained a reputation as a skilled fencer. it was at heidelberg that his studies took a definite turn towards natural history. he took a ph.d. degree at erlangen in . agassiz published his first paper in "isis" in , and for many years devoted himself chiefly to ichthyology. during a visit to paris he became acquainted with cuvier and alexander von humboldt; in , through the liberality of the latter, he began the publication of his "recherches sur les poissons fossiles," and in he completed his "etudes sur les glaciers." in agassiz went to boston, where he lectured in the lowell institute, and in the following year became professor of geology and zoology at cambridge. during the last twenty-seven years of his life agassiz lived in america, and exerted a great influence on the study of natural history in the united states. in he received the wollaston medal of the geological society of london, and in he was selected for the copley medal of the royal society. in agassiz dictated an article to mrs. agassiz on "evolution and permanence of type," in which he repeated his strong conviction against the views embodied in the "origin of species." see "life, letters, and works of louis agassiz," by jules marcou, volumes, new york, ; "louis agassiz: his life and correspondence," edited by elizabeth cary agassiz, volumes, london, ; "smithsonian report," , page . -attack on "origin." -darwin's criticism of book on brazil. -darwin's opinion of. -views on creation of species. -on geographical distribution. -"methods of study" by. -misstatement of darwin's views. -walsh on. -"etudes sur les glaciers." -darwin on glacier work of. -on glaciers in ceara mts. -glacier-ice-lake theory of parallel roads of glen roy. -on glacier moraines. -on rock-cavities formed by glacier-cascades. -on darwin's theory. -on geology of the amazons. -doubts recent upheaval of patagonia. -mentioned. age of the world. aggressive plants, introduction of. agricultural society, experiments on potatoes. airy, h. letter to. albemarle island, darwin's collection of plants from. -volcanoes of. aldrovanda. alerse ("alerce"), occurrence in chiloe. algae, movement of male-cells to female organ. alisma, f. muller's observations on. -submerged flowers of. alisma macrophylla, circumnutation of. allbutt, prof. clifford, on sperm-cells. allen, grant, review by romanes of his "physiological aesthetics." allen, j.a., on colours of birds. -on mammals and birds of florida. allogamy, use of term. almond, seedling peaches resembling. alopecurus pratensis, fertilisation of. alpine floras, arctic and. -of azores, canaries and madeira. -absence of, in southern islands. -ball on origin of flora. -darwin's work on. -of united states. -existence prior to glacial period. -ice-action in new zealand, and. -ball on origin of. alpine insects. alpine plants. -change due to transplanting. -slight change in isolated forms. -as evidence of continental land at close of glacial period. alps, australian. -murchison on structure of. -submergence. -tyndall's book on. alternate generations, in hydrozoa. amazonia, insects of. amazons, l. agassiz on glacial phenomena in valley of. -l. agassiz on geology of. -bates on lepidoptera of. -sedimentation off mouth of. amber, extinct plants preserved in. amblyopsis, a blind cave-fish, effect of conditions on. ameghino, prof., discovery of neomylodon listai. america (north), are european birds blown to? -falconer on elephants. -fauna and flora of japan and. -flora of. -mammalian fauna. -introduction of european weeds. -subsidence during glacial period. -western european plants and flora of. -contrast during tertiary period between south and. -former greater distinction between fauna of south and. -glaciation of south and. -rogers on coal-fields. america (south), bollaert's "antiquities" of. -araucarian fossil wood from. -carabi of. -elevation of coast. -fauna of. -floras of australia and. -geology of. -darwin's "geological observations" on. -deposition of sediment on coast. -european plants in. -frequency of earthquakes. -d. forbes on geology of. -w. jameson on geology of. -d'orbigny on. -volcanic eruptions. -wallace opposed to continent uniting new zealand, australia and. american war. ammonia, darwin's work on effect on roots of carbonate of. ammonites, degeneration of. -reversion. -of s. america. amsinckia. amsinckia spectabilis, dimorphism of. anacamptis (=orchis pyramidalis), fertilisation of. anacharis (=elodea canadensis), spread of. analogy, difference between homology and. anamorphism, huxley on. anatifera, illustrating difficulty in nomenclature. anatomy of vertebrata, owen's attack on darwin and lyell in. "ancient sea margins," by r. chambers. anderson-henry, isaac ( ?- ): of edinburgh, was educated as a lawyer, but devoted himself to horticulture, more particularly to experimental work on grafting and hybridisation. as president of the botanical society of edinburgh he delivered two addresses on "hybridisation or crossing of plants," of which a full abstract was published in the "gardeners' chronicle," april th, , page , and december st, , page . see obit. notice in "gardeners' chronicle," september th, , page . -letter to. andes, darwin on geology of. -high-road for european plants. -comparatively recent origin. anemophilous plants, delpino's work on. angiosperms, origin of. angraecum sesquipedale, duke of argyll on. animal intelligence, romanes on. animals, difference between plants and. -resemblance to plants. annuals, adapted to short seasons. -hildebrand on percentages of. anoplotherium, occurrence in eocene of s. america. ansted, david thomas, f.r.s. ( - ): fellow of jesus college, cambridge, professor of geology at king's college, london, author of several papers and books on geological subjects (see "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxvii., page .) -letter to. antarctic continent, darwin on existence of tertiary. -hypothetical. "antarctic flora," sir j.d. hooker's. antarctic floras. -darwin at work on. antarctic islands, plants of. antarctic land. "anti-jacobin," quiz on erasmus darwin in. "antiquity of man," sir charles lyell's. -cautious views on species. -darwin's criticism of. -extract on natural selection from. -falconer on. -owen's criticism on. antirrhinum, peloric flowers. ants, account in "origin" of slave-. -forel's work on. -moggridge on harvesting-. -f. muller's observations on neuter. -storing leaves for plant-culture. apathus, living in nests of bombus. apes, comparison as regards advance in intellect between man and. -ears of anthropoid. aphides, absence of wings in viviparous. aphis, huxley on. apostasia, morphology of flowers. appalachian chain, rogers on cleavage of. apteryx, owen on. -wings of. aquilegia, hooker and thomson on. -variation in. -peloria and reversion. arachis hypogaea, darwin on. arachnidae. araucaria, abundant in secondary period. araucarian wood, fossil in s. america. arca, morse on. archaeopteryx. archer-hind, r.d., translation of passage from plato by. archetype, owen's book on. -owen's term. d'archiac's "histoire des progres de la geologie." -candidate for royal society foreign list. arctic animals, protective colours. arctic climate, cause of present. arctic expeditions, darwin on. arctic floras. -relation between alpine and. -relation between antarctic and. -hooker's essay on. -darwin's admiration of hooker's essay. -migration of. arctic regions, few plants common to europe and n. america not ranging to. -range of plants. -northern limit of vegetation formerly lower. -ice piled up in. -previous existence of plants in. arenaria verna, range. argus pheasant, colour. -unadorned head. argyll, duke of, attack on romanes in "nature." -rejoinder by romanes in "nature." -hooker on. -letter to. -"reign of law" by. aristolochia, fertilisation of. aristotle, reference to. ark, fitz-roy on extinction of mastodon owing to construction of. armadillo. army, measurement of soldiers of u.s.a. artemia, schmankewitsch's experiments on. ascension island, plants of. -earth-movements. -volcanic rocks. ascidians, budding of. asclepiadeae, fertilisation of. ash, comparison of peat and coal. asher, dr., sends russian wheat to darwin. ashley. ashley heath, mackintosh on boulders of. askenasy, e., on darwinism. aspicarpa. ass, hybrids between mare and. asterias. astragalus hypoglottis, range of. astronomical causes, crust-movements due to. asturian plants in ireland. atavism, use of term by duchesne. -kollmann on. athenaeum club, huxley's election. "athenaeum," correspondence on darwin's statements on rate of increase of elephants. -darwin's opinion of. -abuse of darwin. atlantic islands, peculiar genera and their origin. atlantis, america and. -canary i. and. -darwin's disbelief in. -heer's map. -wollaston's. atolls, darwin's wish for investigation by boring of coral. -darwin on murray's theory. -darwin's work on. atomogenesis, term suggested as substitute for pangenesis. atriplex, buried seeds found in sandpit near melrose. attica, gaudry on fossil animals. auckland island, flora. audubon, j.j., on antics of birds during courtship. -"ornithological biography." aurelia, romanes on. auricula, dimorphism of. -experiments on. austen, godwin, on changes of level on english coast. australia, caves of. -character of fauna. -flora of. -hooker on flora. -relation of flora to s. america. -relation of flora to s. africa. -european plants in. -local plants in s.w. -naturalised plants. -plants on mountains. -fossil plants. -dichogamy of trees in. -as illustrating rate and progress of evolution. -mastodon from. -products of, compared with those of asia. -submergence. australian savages and natural selection. australian species, occurrence in malay archipelago and philippines. autobiographical recollections, charles darwin's. autobiography, extract from darwin's. autogamy, kerner's term. automatism, huxley's essay. avebury, lord. -address at british association meeting at york ( ). -on the finns and kjokken moddings. -letters to. -on the "origin." -"prehistoric times." -on the progress of science. -on seedlings. -story of darwin told by. -darwin regrets his entrance into politics. -on ramsay's lake-theory. averrhoa, darwin's work on. axell, severin, book on fertilisation of plants. axon, w.e., letter from darwin to mrs. e. talbot published by. aye aye, owen on the. azara. azores, organic relation with america. -birds. -european birds as chance wanderers to. -erratic blocks. -flora. -european plants in. -miocene beds in. -relation to madeira and canaries. -watson on the. -orchids from. -mentioned. babies, habit of clutching objects. babington, prof. charles c., at the british association (manchester, ). -"british flora." -darwin sends seeds of atriplex to. baden-powell, prof. baer. bagehot, w., article in "fortnightly review" on physics and politics. bahia blanca, collection of plants from. bailey, on heterocentron roseum. baillon, on pollen-tubes of helianthemum. baker's flora of the mauritius and seychelles. balancement, g. st. hilaire's law of. balanidae, darwin's work on. balanus, questions of nomenclature. balfour, f.m. ( - ): professor of animal morphology at cambridge. he was born , and was killed, with his guide, on the aiguille blanche, near courmayeur, in july . (see "life and letters," iii., page .) -letter to. -mentioned. ball, j., on origin of alpine flora. ball, p., "the effects of use and disuse." balsaminaceae, genera of. banks' cove, volcano of. barber, c., on graft-hybrids of sugar-cane. barber, mrs., on papilio nireus. barberry, abundance in n. america. -dispersal of seeds by birds. -lord farrer and h. muller on floral mechanism. -movement of stamens. barbs, see pigeons. bardfield oxlip (primula elatior). barnacles, darwin's work on. -metamorphosis in. -f. muller on. -nomenclature. -of secondary period. -advance in. -complemental males compared with plants. barneoud, on irregular flowers. "baronne prevost," rivers on the rose. barrande, joachim (died ): devoted himself to the investigation of the palaeozoic fossils of bohemia, his adopted country. his greatest work was the "systeme silurien de la boheme," of which twenty-two volumes were published before his death. he was awarded the wollaston medal of the geological society in . barrande propounded the doctrine of "colonies." he found that in the silurian strata of bohemia, containing a normal succession of fossils, exceptional bands occurred which yielded fossils characteristic of a higher zone. he named these bands "colonies," and explained their occurrence by supposing that the later fauna represented in these "precursory bands" had already appeared in a neighbouring region, and that by some means communication was opened at intervals between this region and that in which the normal silurian series was being deposited. this apparent intercalation of younger among older zones has now been accounted for by infoldings and faulting of the strata. see j.e. marr, "on the pre- devonian rocks of bohemia," "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxvi., page ( ); also "defense des colonies," by j. barrande (prag, ), and geikie's "text-book of geology" ( ), page . -candidature for royal medal. -candidate for royal society foreign list. -work on colonies. -lyell on work of. barriers to plant distribution in america. barrow, on emberiza longicauda. -"travels in s. africa." barrow, sir j., connection with naval expeditions. barrow, germination of seeds from a. bartlett, abraham dee ( - ): was resident superintendent of the zoological society's gardens in regent's park from to . he communicated several papers to the zoological society. his knowledge was always at the service of mr. darwin, who had a sincere respect for him. -letters to. barton, on trees of n. america. basalt, association with granite. -separation of trachyte and. basques, h. christy on the. -hooker on finns and. bastian, "the beginnings of life." bat, natural selection and increase in size of wings. bates, henry walter ( - ): was born at leicester, and after an apprenticeship in a hosiery business he became a clerk in allsopp's brewery. he did not remain long in this uncongenial position, for in he embarked for para with mr. wallace, whose acquaintance he had made at leicester some years previously. mr. wallace left brazil after four years' sojourn, and bates remained for seven more years. he suffered much ill- health and privation, but in spite of adverse circumstances he worked unceasingly: witness the fact that his collection of insects numbered , specimens. he became assistant secretary to the royal geographical society in , a post which he filled up to the time of his death in . in mr. clodd's interesting memoir prefixed to his edition of the "naturalist on the amazons," , the editor pays a warm and well-weighed tribute to mr. bates's honourable and lovable personal character. see also "life and letters," ii., page . -"a naturalist on the amazons." -darwin's opinion of his work. -on insect fauna of amazon valley. -on lepidoptera of amazons. -letter from hooker to. -letters to. -letter to hooker from. -darwin reviews paper by. -on flower of monochaetum. -on insects of chili. -supplies darwin with facts for sexual selection. bateson, miss a., on cross fertilisation in inconspicuous flowers. bateson, w., on breeding lepidoptera in confinement. -mendel's "principles of heredity." batrachians, kollmann on rudimentary digits. bauer, f., drawings by. bauhinia, sleep-movements of leaves. beaches, s. american raised. "beagle" (h.m.s.), circumstance of darwin joining. -darwin's views on species when on. -fitzroy and voyage of. -return of. -voyage. beans, holes bitten by bees in flowers. -extra-floral nectaries of. bear, comparison with whale. -modification of. beaton, donald ( - ): biographical notices in the "journal of horticulture" and the "cottage gardener," xiii., page , and "journ. hort." , pages and , are referred to in britten & boulger's "biographical index of botanists," . dr. masters tells us that beaton had a "first-rate reputation as a practical gardener, and was esteemed for his shrewdness and humour." -darwin on work of. -on pelargonium. beatson, on land birds in s. helena. beaufort. beaufort, captain, asks darwin for information as to collecting. beaumont, elie de ( - ): was a pupil in the ecole polytechnique and afterwards in the ecole des mines. in he accompanied m. brochant de villiers to england in order to study the principles of geological mapping, and to report on the english mines and metallurgical establishments. for several years m. de beaumont was actively engaged in the preparation of the geological map of france, which was begun in , and in he succeeded m. b. de villiers in the chair of geology at the ecole des mines. in he was elected perpetual secretary of the french academy, and in he became vice-president of the conseil general des mines and a grand officer of the legion of honour. elie de beaumont is best known among geologists as the author of the "systemes des montagnes" and other publications, in which he put forward his theories on the origin of mountain ranges and on kindred subjects. ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxxi.; "proc." page xliii, .) -on lines of elevation. -on elevation in cordilleras. -elevation-crater theory. -darwin's disbelief in views and work of. -on lava and dykes. -lyell's refutation of his theory. -measurement of natural inclination of lava-streams. beauty, criticism by j. morley of darwin's phraseology in regard to. -discussion on. -lepidoptera and display of. -wallace on. -darwin's discussion on origin. -in female animals. -in plumage of male and female birds. -of seeds and fruits. -shaw on. -standards of. bedford, flint implements found near. beech, in chonos i. -in t. del fuego and chili. -miquel on distribution. bee-ophrys (ophrys apifera), see bee-orchis. bee-orchis, darwin's experiments on crossing. -fertilisation. -self-fertilisation. -intermediate forms between ophrys arachnites and. bees, combs. -haughton on cells of. -and instinct. -referred to in "descent of man." -new zealand clover and. -acquisition of power of building cells. -darwin's observations on. -agents in fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers. -as pollen collectors. -difference between sexes. -h. muller on. -and parthenogenesis. -regular lines of flight at down. beet, graft-hybrids. beete-jukes, alluded to in de la beche's presidential address. beetles, bivalves distributed by. -forel's work on. -nest-inhabiting. -stag-. -stridulating organs. "befruchtung der blumen," h. muller's, the outcome of darwin's "fertilisation of orchids." begonia, monstrous flowers. -b. frigida, hooker on. begoniaceae, genera of. behring straits, spreading of plants from. belize, coral reefs near. bell, on owen's "edinburgh review" article. bell, sir c., "anatomy of expression." belt, t., on conspicuously coloured animals distasteful to birds. -letter to. -"the naturalist in nicaragua." ben nevis, ice-barrier under. benson, miss, on chalazogamy in amentiferae. bentham, george ( - ): son of sir samuel bentham, and nephew of jeremy, the celebrated authority on jurisprudence. sir samuel bentham was at first in the russian service, and afterwards in that of his own country, where he attained the rank of inspector-general of naval works. george bentham was attracted to botany during a "caravan tour" through france in , when he set himself to work out the names of flowers with de candolle's "flore francaise." during this period he entered as a student of the faculte de theologie at tours. about he was turned to the study of philosophy, probably through an acquaintance with john stuart mill. he next became the manager of his father's estates near montpellier, and it was here that he wrote his first serious work, an "essai sur la classification des arts et sciences." in the benthams returned to england, where he made many friends, among whom was dr. arnott; and it was in his company that bentham, in , paid a long visit to the pyrenees, the fruits of which was his first botanical work, "catalogue des plantes indigenes des pyrenees, etc." . about this time bentham entered lincoln's inn with a view to being called to the bar, but the greater part of his energies was given to helping his uncle jeremy, and to independent work in logic and jurisprudence. he published his "outlines of a new system of logic" ( ), but the merit of his work was not recognised until . in bentham finally gave up the bar and took up his life's work as a botanist. in he presented his collections and books (valued at , pounds) to the royal gardens, kew, and for the rest of his life resided in london, and worked daily at the herbarium. his work there began with the "flora of hong kong," which was followed by that of australia published in in seven volumes octavo. at the same time the "genera plantarum" was being planned; it was begun, with dr. hooker as a collaborator, in , and concluded in . with this monumental work his labours ended; "his strength...suddenly gave way...his visits to kew ended, and lingering on under increasing debility, he died of old age on september th last" ( .) the amount of work that he accomplished was gigantic and of the most masterly character. in speaking of his descriptive work the writer (sir j.d. hooker) of the obituary notice in "nature" (october nd, ), from which many of the above facts are taken, says that he had "no superior since the days of linnaeus and robert brown, and he has left no equal except asa gray" ("athenaeum," december st, ; "contemporary review," may, ; "george bentham, f.r.s." by sir j.d. hooker, "annals bot." volume xii., ). -mentioned. -address to linnean society. -darwin's criticism on address. -letters to. -extract from letter to. -views on species and on "origin." -on fertilisation mechanism in goodeniaceae. -on hybridism. -runs too many forms together. -on scott's primula paper. berberis, pfeffer on stamens. berkeley, miles joseph ( - ): was educated at rugby and christ's college, cambridge; he took orders in . berkeley is described by sir william thiselton-dyer as "the virtual founder of british mycology" and as the first to treat the subject of the pathology of plants in a systematic manner. in he published his "introduction to cryptogamic botany." ("annals of botany," volume xi., , page ix; see also an obituary notice by sir joseph hooker in the "proc. royal society," volume xlvii., page ix, .) -address by. -experiments on saltwater and seed-dispersal. -letter to. -mentioned. -notice of darwin's work by. bermudas, american plants in. -coral-reefs. berzelius, on flints. bhootan, rhododendron boothii from. bible, chronology of. biffen, r., potato grafts. bignonia, f. muller's paper on. -b. capreolata, tendrils of. binney, edward william f.r.s. ( - ): contributed numerous papers to the royal, palaeontographical, geological, and other societies, on upper carboniferous and permian rocks; his most important work deals with the internal structure of coal-measure plants. in a paper "on the origin of coal," published in the "memoirs of the manchester literary and philosophical society," volume viii., page , in , binney expressed the view that the sediments of the coal period were marine rather than estuarine, and were deposited on the floor of an ocean, which was characterised by a "uniformity and shallowness unknown" in any oceanic area of the present day. -on marshes of coal period. -on coal and coal plants. biogenesis, huxley's address on abiogenesis and. biology, huxley's "course of practical instruction" in. biology of plants, hooker's scheme for a flora, with notes on. birds, as agents of dispersal of plants. -blown to madeira. -climate and effect on american. -coloration of. -comparison with mammals. -as isolated groups. -of madeira. -modification in. -andrew murray on wallace's theory of nests. -wallace's theory of nests. -agents in dispersal of land-molluscs. -antics during courtship. -courtesy towards own image. -expression of fear by erection of feathers. -means of producing music. -spurs on female. -pairing. -polygamy. -proportion of sexes. -sexual selection and colour. -attracted by singing of bullfinch. -tameness in brazilian species. -occurrence of unpaired. -weir's observations on. bird of paradise, and polygamy. birmingham, british association meeting ( ). bivalves, means of dispersal of freshwater. bizcacha, burrowing animal of patagonia. blackbird, variation in tufted. blair, rev. r.h., observations on the blind. blake, paper on elephants in "geologist." blanford, h.f., on an indo-oceanic continent. blanford, w.t., obituary notice of neumayr by. blind, expression of those born. blomefield, l., see jenyns, l. bloom, darwin's work on. -f. darwin on connection between stomata and (see also darwin, f.) -effect of rain on. -on leaf of trifolium resupinatum. -protection against parasites. -on seashore plants. blow-fly, lowne on the. blyth, edward ( - ): distinguished for his knowledge of indian birds and mammals. he was for twenty years curator of the museum of the asiatic society of bengal, a collection which was practically created by his exertions. gould spoke of him as "the founder of the study" of zoology in india. his published writings are voluminous, and include, in addition to those bearing his name, numerous articles in the "field, land and water," etc., under the signature "zoophilus" or "z." he also communicated his knowledge to others with unsparing generosity, yet-- doubtless the chief part of his "extraordinary fund of information" died with him. darwin had much correspondence with him, and always spoke of him with admiration for his powers of observation and for his judgment. the letters to blyth have unfortunately not come into our hands. the indebtedness of darwin to blyth may be roughly gauged by the fact that the references under his name in the index to "animals and plants" occupy nearly a column. for further information about blyth see grote's introduction to the "catalogue of mammals and birds of burma, by the late e. blyth" in the "journal of the asiatic society of bengal," part ii., extra number, august ; also an obituary notice published at the time of his death in the "field." mr. grote's memoir contains a list of blyth's writings which occupies nearly seven pages of the "journal." we are indebted to professor newton for calling our attention to the sources of this note. -reference to letter from. -visits down. -on gallinaceae. blytt, axel gudbrand ( - ): the son of the well-known systematist m.n. blytt. he was attached to the christiania herbarium in , and in became professor of botany in the university. his best-known work is the essay referred to above, but he was also known for purely systematic work in botany as well as for meteorological and geological contributions to science. the above facts are taken from c. holtermann's obituary notice in the "berichte der deutschen bot. gesell." volume xvii., . -essay on immigration of norwegian flora during alternating rainy and dry periods. -letter to. bog-mammoth. boiler, comparison with volcano. boissier, on plants of s. spain. boissiera, crossing experiments on. bolbophyllum, darwin's account of. bolivia, geology of. bollaert's "antiquities of s. america." bombus, diversity in generative organs. -psithyrus in nests of. -pollen-collecting apparatus of male. bombycilla, protective colours. bombyx, sexes in. bonaparte, l., on basque and finnish language. bonatea speciosa, f. muller on. -structure of flower. bonney's edition of darwin's "coral reefs." -"charles lyell and modern geology." bonnier, g., on alpine plants. boragineae, dimorphism in. borneo, new zealand and australian plants in. -temperate plants in lowlands. -possible region for remains of early man. bory's flora of bourbon. bosquet, cirripede monograph sent by darwin to. -gives darwin note on fossil chthamalus. botanical collections (national) consolidation at kew. botanist, darwin as. botany, philosophical spirit in study of. boulders, transport of erratic (see also erratic blocks). -darwin on ashley heath. -in glen roy. -on moel tryfan. bourbon, bory's flora of. bournemouth, darwin's visit to. bovey tracey, heer on fossil plants of. bower, prof. f.o., on welwitschia. bower-bird, bartlett's experiments on. -colours discriminated by. bowman, w., letters to. -supplies darwin with facts on expression. brachiopods, morse on. -silurian. brackish-water plants. bradshaw, h., translation of hebrew letter by. brain, owen on. -evolution in man. -wallace on natural selection and evolution of. branchipus, schmankewitsch's experiments on. branta, mentioned in reference to nomenclature of barnacles. brassica sinapistrum, germination at down of old seeds. braun, a., convert to darwin's views. bravais, on lines of old sea-level in finmark. brazil, l. agassiz's book on. -agassiz on glacial phenomena in. -f. muller's residence in. -plants on mountains of. -basalt in association with granite. -darwin on origin of lakes in. -dimorphism of plants in s. bree, dr., on celts. -misrepresents darwin. breeders, views on selection held by. breeding, chapter in "origin" on. brehm, on birds. breitenbach, dr. brewster, sir d., on glen roy. bridgeman. brinton, dr., attends darwin. british association, meetings: belfast ( ), birmingham ( ), cambridge ( ), ipswich ( ), leeds ( ), liverpool ( ), manchester ( ), norwich ( ), nottingham ( ), oxford ( ), oxford ( ), southampton ( ), swansea ( ), york ( ). addresses: berkeley, fawcett, hooker, hooker on insular floras, (see also hooker, sir j.d.), huxley on abiogenesis, lord kelvin, wallace on birds' nests. british association, committee for investigation of coral atoll by boring. british medical association, undertakes defence of dr. ferrier. british museum, disposal of botanical collections. brodie, sir benjamin. brongniart, ad., on sigillaria. bronn, h.g., letter to. -on german translation of "origin." -reference in his translation of "origin" to tails of mice as difficulty opposed to natural selection. -on natural selection. -"entwickelung." -"morphologische studien." -"naturgeschische der drei reiche." brougham, lord, on structure of bees' cells. -habit of writing everything important three times. brown, h.t., and f. escombe, on vitality of seeds. -on influence of varying amounts of co on plants. brown, r., accompanies flinders on australian voyage. -meets darwin. -dilatoriness over king's collection. -illness. -on course of vessels in orchid flowers. -mentioned. -on pollen-tubes. -seldom indulged in theory. brulle, gaspard-auguste ( - ): held a post in the natural history museum, paris, from to ; on leaving paris he occupied the chair of zoology and comparative anatomy at dijon. ("note sur la vie et les travaux entomologiques d'auguste brulle" by e. desmarest. "ann. soc. entom." volume ii., page .) -reference to work by. -his pupils' eagerness to hear darwin's views. brunonia, hamilton on fertilisation mechanism. brunton, sir t. lauder, letters to. -letter to darwin from. brydges and anderson, collection of s. american plants. bryophyllum calycinum, duval-jouve and f. muller on movements of leaves. bryozoa, specimens found during voyage of "beagle." buch, von, on craters of albermarle i. -darwin's disbelief in his views. -mentioned. -"travels in norway." buckland, william ( - ): became a scholar of corpus christi college, oxford, in ; in he was elected fellow and ordained priest. buckland travelled on horseback over a large part of the south-west of england, guided by the geological maps of william smith. in he was appointed to the chair of mineralogy at oxford, and soon afterwards to a newly created readership in geology. in the "reliquiae diluvianae" was published, a work which aimed at supporting the records of revelation by scientific investigations. in buckland was president of the geological society, and in the following year he left oxford for the living of stoke charity, near whitchurch, hampshire. "the bridgewater treatise" appeared in . in buckland was appointed dean of westminster; he was again elected president of the geological society in , and in he received the wollaston medal. an entertaining account of buckland is given in mr. tuckwell's "reminiscences of oxford," london, , page , with a reproduction of the portrait from gordon's "life of buckland." -on glen roy. -mentioned. buckle, darwin reads book by. buckley, miss. buckman, on n. american plants. buckman, prof., experiments at cirencester. bud, propagation by. -hooker's use of term. -fertilisation in. bud-variation. buenos-ayres, fossils sent by darwin from. bull-dog, as example of design. bullfinch, experiment on colouring. -attracted by german singing-bird. -weir on pairing. bunbury, sir charles james fox, bart. ( - ): was born at messina in , and in entered trinity college, cambridge. at the end of he went with sir george napier to the cape of good hope, and during a residence there of twelve months bunbury devoted himself to botanical field-work, and afterwards ( ) published his "journal of a residence at the cape of good hope." in bunbury married the second daughter of mr. leonard horner, lady lyell's sister. in addition to several papers dealing with systematic and geographical botany bunbury published numerous contributions on palaeobotanical subjects, a science with which his name will always be associated as one of those who materially assisted in raising the study of fossil plants to a higher scientific level. his papers on fossil plants were published in the "journal of the geological society" between and , and shortly before his death a collection of botanical observations made in south africa and south america was issued in book form in a volume entitled "botanical fragments" (london, ). bunbury was elected into the royal society in , and from to he acted as foreign secretary to the geological society. "life, letters, and journals of sir charles j.f. bunbury, bart." edited by his wife frances joanna bunbury, and privately printed. (undated.) -darwin's opinion of. -views on evolution. -on agassiz's statements on glaciation of brazil. -on plants of madeira. -illness. -mentioned. bunsen, copley medal awarded to. -mentioned. burbidge, f.w., on malaxis. burleigh, lord. burnett. busk, g., visit to the continent with falconer. -on caves of gibraltar. butler, a.g., identification of butterflies. butler, dr., darwin at shrewsbury school under. -mentioned. butterflies, attracted by colours. -and mimicry. -tameness of. -colour and sexual selection. -description by darwin of ticking. butterfly-orchis, (see also habenaria.) cabbage, darwin's work on. -effect of salt water on. -pinguicula and seeds of. -sleep-movements of cotyledons. -waxy secretion on leaves. caddis-flies, f. muller on abortion of hairs on legs of. caenonympha, breeding in confinement. caird, on torbitt's potato experiments. calcutta, j. scott's position in botanic garden. callidryas philea, and hedychium. callithrix sciureus, wrinkling of eyes during screaming. calluna vulgaris, in azores. cambrian, piles of unconformable strata below. cambridge, darwin and henslow. -honorary ll.d. given to darwin. -mentioned. -darwin's recollections of. -owen's address. -philosophical society meeting. -darwin visits. -specimens of darwin's plants in botanical museum. camel, cuvier's statement on teeth. -in n. america. cameroons, commingling of temperate and tropical plants. -hooker on plants of. -plants of. campanula, fertilisation mechanism. -c. perfoliata, note by scott on. campanulaceae, crossing in. campbell island, flora. campodea, lord avebury on. canada, sir william dawson's work. canaries, fertility of hybrids. -plumage. -wildness of hybrids. canary islands, flora. -humboldt on. -insects of. -madeira formerly connected with. -relation to azores and madeira. -d'urville on. -african affinity of eastern. -elevation of. -von buch on. -trunks of american trees washed on shores of. candolle, alphonse louis pierre pyramus de ( - ): was the son of augustin pyramus, and succeeded his father as professor of botany at geneva in . he resigned his chair in , and devoted himself to research for the rest of his life. at the time of his father's death, in , seven volumes of the "prodromus" had appeared: alphonse completed the seventeenth volume in . in appeared his "geographie botanique raisonnee," "which was the most important work of his life," and if not a precursor, "yet one of the inevitable foundation-stones" of modern evolutionary principles. he also wrote "histoire des savants," , and "phytographie," . he was lavish of assistance to workers in botany, and was distinguished by a dignified and charming personality. (see sir w. thiselton-dyer's obituary in "nature," july th, , page .) -on influence of climate. -on cupuliferae. -on extinction of plants in cultivated land. -"geographie botanique." -letters to. -on introduced plants. -on naturalised plants and variation. -review by asa gray of. -on relation of size of families to range of species. -on social plants. -mentioned. candolle, c. de, on latent life in seeds. canestrini, on proportion of sexes in bombyx. canna, fertilisation of. cape of good hope (see also africa). -australian flora compared with that of. -flora. -variable heaths of. -darwin's geological observations on metamorphism at. -european element in flora. -meyer and doege on plants of. cape tres montes, the "beagle's" southern limit. caprification, f. muller in "kosmos" on. capsella bursa-pastoris, cross-fertilisation of. carabus, origin of. -in chili. -a. murray on. carbon dioxide, percentage in atmosphere. carboniferous period, glacial action. -subsidence during. cardamine, quasi-bulbs on leaves. carduelis elegans, length of beak. carex. carices, of greenland. carlisle, sir a., on megatherium. carlyle, mrs., remark on owen. carmichael, on tristan d'acunha. carmichaelia. carnarvonshire, darwin on glaciers of. caroline islands, want of knowledge on flora. carpenter, dr., on influence of blood in crossing. carrier-pigeon (see pigeon), preference for certain colours in pairing. carrot, flowers of. carruthers, w., on potato experiments. carter, h.j., on reproduction of lower animals and foreshadowing of chemotaxis. carus, professor victor: translated several of mr. darwin's books into german (see "life and letters, iii., page ). -letters to. casarea, a snake peculiar to round island. case, g., darwin at school of. cassia, darwin's experiments on. -sleep-movements of leaves. -two kinds of stamens. -todd on flowers of. cassini, observations on pollen. -on ovaries of compositae. cassiope hypnoides. castes, galton on. catalpa. catasetum, fertilisation of. -huxley's scepticism as to mechanism of. -morphology of flower. -aerial roots. -sexual forms of. -c. saccatum, flower of. -c. tridentatum, three sexual forms. caterpillars, colour and protection. -experiments by weir. cats, belgian society to encourage homing of. -habits of. cattell, on crossing sweet peas. cattleya, darwin suggests experiments on. -self-fertilisation. caucasus, wingless insects of. cauquenes, baths of. cave-fish, reference in the "origin" to blind. cave-rat. caves, animals in australian. cavia, specimens collected by darwin. ceara mountains, l. agassiz on glaciers of. cebus, expression when astonished. cecidomyia, ancestor of. cedars, hooker on. celebes, geographical distribution in. cellaria. celosia, experiment on. celts, bree on. centipedes, luminosity of. centradenia, two sets of stamens in. -position of pistil. cephalanthera, flower. -single pollen-grains. -c. grandiflora, fertilisation mechanism. cephalopods, hyatt on embryology of. -hyatt on fossil. cephalotus. cervus campestris, of la plata. cetacea, lyell on. ceylon, malayan types in. -plants. -former connection with africa. -dimorphic plants of. chaffinch, courtship of. chalazal fertilisation, miss benson on. -foreshadowed by darwin. -treub on. chalk, occurrence of angiosperms in. -as oceanic deposit. "challenger" (h.m.s.), reports reviewed by huxley. -account of sedimentation in. challis, prof. chambers, robert ( - ): began as a bookseller in edinburgh in , and from very modest beginnings he gradually increased his business till it became the flourishing publishing firm of w. & r. chambers. after writing several books on biographical, historical and other subjects, chambers published anonymously the "vestiges of the natural history of creation" in ; in his work on "ancient sea margins" appeared; and this was followed by the "book of days" and other volumes. ("dict. nat. biog." ; see also darwin's "life and letters," i., pages , , , .) -announced as author of "vestiges of creation." -on derivation of marine from land and fresh-water organisms. -darwin visits. -on glen roy. -on land-glaciation of scotland. -letters to. -letter to milne-home from. -on scepticism of scientific men. -mentioned. chance, use of term. chandler, s.e. (see farmer, j.b.) changed conditions, schmankewitsch's experiments on effect of. charles island, darwin's plants from. charlock, germination of old seeds. chatham island, darwin's collection of plants from. -travers on. checks, use of artificial. chemotaxis, foreshadowed by carter. chiasognathus grantii. childhood, charles darwin's. children, darwin on. -experiment on emotions of. -colour-sense. -coloured compared with white. -comparison between those of educated and uneducated parents. -expression. -development of mind. -intelligence of monkeys and. chili, elevation of coast. -geology of. -plants common to new zealand and. -carabus of. -darwin on earthquakes and terraces in. chillingham cattle, darwin and hindmarsh on. chiloe, description of. -forests. -geology. -plants on mountains. -boulders. china, expedition to. chinese, explanation of affinities with mexicans. "chips from a german workshop," max muller's. chloeon dimidiatum, lord avebury on. chlorite, segregation of. chlorophyll, darwin's work on action of carbonate of ammonia on. chonos islands, darwin's collections of plants from. -darwin's account of. -geology of. -potato. christy, h. christy, miller, on oxlip. chrysosplenium oppositifolium. chthamalus, in the chalk. cicada, experiments on eggs. -muller on rivalry of. -walsh on. -c. septendecim, sharp's account of. cinchona, hooker on different rates of growth in seedlings. circumnutation, f. muller's observations on. cirripedes, see barnacles. cistus, hybridism of. citrus, unequal cotyledons. -polyembryonic seeds. civilisation, effect on savages. claparede, convert to darwin's views. -and mdlle. royer. clapperton's "scientific meliorism," letter of gaskell in. clark, on classification of sponges. clark, sir james ( - ): was for some years a medical officer in the navy; he afterwards practised in rome till he moved to london in . on the accession of queen victoria he was made physician in ordinary and received a baronetcy; he was elected into the royal society in . ("dict. nat. biog." ; article by dr. norman moore.) -on glen roy. clarke, w.b., "wreck of the 'favourite.'" clarkia, two kinds of stamens. -c. elegans. classification, bentham on. -cuvier on. -dana on mammalian. -darwin on. -darwin and huxley on. -genealogy and. -value of reproductive organs in. clay-slate, metamorphism of. cleavage and foliation. -darwin on his work on. -history of work on. -parallelism of foliation and. -relation to stratification. -relation to rock-curves. -rogers on. -sedgwick on. -uniformity of foliation and. -result of chemical action. -metamorphic schists. -lines of incipient tearing form planes of. -tyndall on sorby's observations. cleistogamic flowers, fertilisation. -of grass. -of oxalis and viola. -pollen of. -comparison with termites. clematis, darwin's error in work on. -darwin's experiments on. -irritability. clematis glandulosa, identified at down by power of feeling. cleodora, specific differences in. clethra, absence in azores. -remnant of tertiary flora. clianthus. clift, william ( - ): conservator of the museum of the royal college of surgeons. -on fossil bones from australia. -owen assistant to. climate, changes in. -effect on species. -effect on species of birds. -migration of organisms and change in. -relation to distribution and structure of plants. -extinct mammals as evidence of change in. -and sexual differentiation. -variation and. -lyell on former. -mild miocene. climbing plants, darwin's work on. -circumnutation of. -f. muller's work on. clivia, scott's work on. clodd's memoir of bates. close species, absence of intermediate forms between. -definition of. -asa gray on. -in warm temperate lands of n. and s. hemispheres. -relation to flora of n. america. clover, relation between bees and. club, dinner at linnean. -philosophical. coal, darwin on origin of. -lesquereux on the flora of. -marine marshes and plants of. -ash of. coal period, higher percentage of co during. coast-lines, parallelism with lines of volcanoes. cobbe, miss, article in "theological review" on "descent of man." cockburn island, boulders from. cochin hen, experiments on. coelogyne, fertilisation mechanism. coffea arabica, seeds with two embryos. cohn, f., notice in "cornhill" of his botanical work. coldstream, dr. colenso, on maori races of new zealand. coleoptera, apterous form of madeira. -colonisation of ants' nests by. colias edusa, wings of. collecting, darwin's early taste for. collier, hon. john: royal academician, son-in-law to professor huxley. -art primer by. -letter to. -portrait of darwin by. collingwood, dr., on mimetic forms. colonies, barrande's. colonisation, conditions of. coloration, walsh on unity of. colour, butterflies attracted by. -mimicry in butterflies by means of. -of dioecious flowers. -and fertilisation of flowers. -in grouse, and natural selection. -in birds. -in male birds, not simply due to natural selection. -darwin's work on. -darwin differs from wallace in views on. -evolution of. -experiments on birds. -hackel on lower animals and. -krause on. -magnus on. -protection and. -relation to sex. -in seeds and fruits. -and sexual selection. -sense of, in children. -wallace on. columba aenas, habits of. -c. livia, descent of pigeons from. combretum. combs, bees', (see also bees). comparative anatomy, huxley's book on. compensation, belief of botanists in. compiler, darwin's opinion of a. compositae, harvey on. -masters' reference to. -monstrosities in. -morphological characters. -schleiden on. -darwin on crossing. -fertilisation mechanism. -hildebrand on dispersal of seeds. -viscid threads of seeds. comte, huxley on. concepcion island, geology of. -darwin's account of earthquake. conchoderma, in reference to nomenclature. concretions, origin of. conditions of life, effect on animals and plants. -effect on elephants. -effect on reproductive system. -hybrids and. -importance in maintaining number of species. -species and changes in. -and sterility. -variability depends more on nature of organisms than on. confervae and sexuality. coniferae, abundant in humid temperate regions. connecting links. -gaudry on. conscience, morley on darwin's treatment of. conspectus crustaceorum, dana's. constancy, in abnormally developed organs. contemporaneity, darwin on. continental elevation, volcanic eruptions and. continental extension, darwin on. -evidence in favour of. -hooker on. -lyell on. -and means of distribution. -new zealand and. continental forms, versus insular. continents, inhabitants of islands and. -movements of. -wallace on sinking imaginary. controversy, darwin's hatred and avoidance of. convallaria majalis, in virginia. convolvulus, supposed dimorphism of. cooling of crust, disagreement among physicists as to rate. cope, edward drinker ( - ): was for a short time professor at haverford college; he was a member of certain united states geological survey expeditions, and at the time of his death he held a professorship in the university of pennsylvania. he wrote several important memoirs on "vertebrate paleontology," and in published "the origin of the fittest." -style of. -and hyatt, theories of. copley medal, darwin and the. -falconer, and darwin's. -lindley considered for the. -awarded to lyell. -awarded to bunsen. -darwin describes letter from hooker as a. coquimbo, darwin visits. -upraised shells. coral islands, and subsidence. -plants of. coral reefs, darwin's work on. -bonney's edition of darwin's book on. -a. agassiz on. -dana on. -fossil. -murray on. -conditions of life of polyps. -solution by co of. -subsidence of. coral tree, (see erythrina). corallines, nature of. cordiaceae, dimorphism in. cordilleras, glaciers of. -high-road for plants. -plants of. -birds of. -comparison between glen roy and terraces of. -darwin on earth-movements of. -forbes on. -submarine lava-streams. -volcanic activity and elevation. coronilla, lord farrer on. -c. emerus. -c. varia. coryanthes, "beats everything in orchids." corydalis, hildebrand shows falsity of idea of self-fertilisation of. -c. cava, hildebrand on self-sterility of. -c. claviculata, tendrils of. -c. tuberosa, possible case of reversion in floral structure. "cottage gardener," darwin offers reward for hyacinth grafts. cotyledons, darwin's experiments on. counterbalance, watson on divergent variation and. cowslips, primroses and. -darwin's experiments on artificial fertilisation. -homomorphic seedlings. -loss of dimorphism. craig dhu, shelves of. craters, in galapagos island. -of denudation, lyell on. -of elevation. -darwin on. crawford, john ( - ): orientalist, ethnologist, etc. mr. crawford wrote a review on the "origin," which, though hostile, was free from bigotry (see "life and letters," ii., page ).) creation, acts of. -doctrine of. -of species as eggs. -owen on. -romanes on individual. creation-by-variation, doctrine of. "creed of science," graham's. cresy, e., letters to. cretaceous flora, heer on arctic. crick, w.d., letter to. crinum, crossing experiments on. -c. passiflora, fertility of. crocker, w., work on hollyhocks. croll, james ( - ): was born at little whitefield, in perthshire. after a short time passed in the village school, he was apprenticed as a wheelwright, but lack of strength compelled him to seek less arduous employment, and he became agent to an insurance company. in he was appointed keeper in the andersonian university and museum, glasgow. his first contribution to science was published in the "philosophical magazine" for , and this was followed in by the essay "on the physical cause of the change of climate during the glacial period." from to he held an appointment in the department of the geological survey in edinburgh. in croll was elected a fellow of the royal society. his last work, "the philosophical basis of evolution," was published in the year of his death. ("nature," volume xliii., page , .) -darwin on his theory. -on icebergs as grinding agents. -letters to. -lyell on his theory. -on sub-aerial denudation. -on time. crookes, sir w., on spiritualism. "cross and self-fertilisation," darwin's book on. cross-fertilisation, darwin's experiments on self- and. -check to endless variability. -darwin states that as a rule flowers described as adapted to self- fertilisation are really adapted to. -of inconspicuous flowers. -all plants require occasional. -small advantages when confined to same plant. crosses, fertility and sterility of. crossing, agreement between darwin's and breeders' views. -counterbalance of. -darwin's views on. -effects of. -experiments on. -hooker's views. -in animals and plants. -influence of blood in. -intermediate character of results. -natural selection and disinclination towards. -offspring of. -of primroses and cowslips. -and sterility. -westphalian pig and english boar. -botanists' work on. -importance of. -pains taken by nature to ensure. -in pisum. -in primula. -in individuals of same species. -f. muller compliments darwin on his chapter on. -and separate sexes in trees. crotalaria. crotalus. cruciferae, action of fungus on roots. cruciferous flower, morphology. cruger, dr., on cleistogamic fertilisation of epidendrum. -death of. -on fertilisation of figs. -on pollinia of acropera. -on melastomaceae. -on fertilisation of orchids. crustacea, comparison of classification of mammals and. -darwin on. -f. muller on. -sex in. crying, action of children in. -physiology of. -wrinkling of eyes in. crystal palace, darwin's visit to. crystals, separation in lava-magmas. cucurbita, seeds and seedlings of. cucurbitaceae, dr. wight on. cudham wood. cultivated plants, darwin's work on. cultivation and self-sterility. cuming, on galapagos islands. cupuliferae, a. de candolle on. curculionidae, schoenherr's catalogue. currents, as means of dispersal. cuvier, on camels' teeth. -on classification. -mentioned. cybele, h.c. watson's. cycadaceae, supposed power to withstand excess of co . cyclas cornea. cyclops (h.m.s.) dredging by. cynips, dimorphism in. -walsh on. cypripedium, fertilisation mechanism. -c. hirsutissimum. cyrena, range and variability. cytisus adami, darwin on. -note on. -c. alpinus. -c. laburnum, graft-hybrids between c. purpureus and. -j.j. weir on. cyttarogenesis, suggested substitute for pangenesis. dallas, w.s., translator of f. muller's "fur darwin." dampiera, hamilton on fertilisation mechanism. dana, james dwight ( - ): published numerous works on geology, mineralogy, and zoology. he was awarded the copley medal by the royal society in , and elected a foreign member in . -darwin's opinion of. -health. -letters to. -mentioned. -on classification of mammalia. -darwin's criticism of. -on kilauea. -lyell on his claims for royal society foreign list. -volume on geology in wilkes' reports. dareste, c., letter to. darwin, annie: charles darwin's daughter. darwin, bernard: charles darwin's grandson, observations on, as a child. darwin, caroline ( - ): charles darwin's sister. -charles darwin's early recollections of. -letter to. darwin, catherine ( - ): charles darwin's sister. -death. -letter to. darwin, charles, boyhood. -went to mr. case's school. -went to shrewsbury school. -abused as an atheist. -collier's picture of. -complains of little time for reading. -contribution to henslow's biography. -copley medal awarded to. -engagement to miss emma wedgwood. -falconer's list of scientific labours of. -first meeting with hooker. -friendship with huxley. -on gray's work on distribution. -growth of his evolutionary views. -health. -honorary degree at cambridge. -intimacy with hooker. -judd's recollections of. -lamarck and. -letters to "nature." -marriage. -friendship with f. muller. -prefatory note to meldola's translation of weismann. -recollections of cambridge. -relation between j. scott and. -review on bates. -attends meeting of royal society. -slowness in giving up old beliefs. -tendency to restrict interest to natural history. -and the "vestiges." -visits london. -wallace and. -and weismann. -working hours. -book on s. american geology. -pleasure in angling. -on making blunders. -slight knowledge of botany. -visits cambridge. -love of children. -on cleavage and foliation. -on origin of coal. -his theory of coral reefs supported by funafuti boring. -large correspondence. -on danger of trusting in science to principle of exclusion. -death of his child from scarlet fever. -on difficulty of writing good english. -feels need of stimulus in work. -subscribes to dr. ferrier's defence. -on flaws in his reasoning. -follows golden rule of putting adverse facts in strongest light. -"geological instructions." -geological work on lochaber. -visit to glen roy. -bad handwriting. -idleness a misery. -on immortality and death. -on lavas. -letter to "scotsman" on glen roy. -indebtedness to lyell. -on lyell as a geologist. -on lyell's "second visit to the u.s.a." -work on man and sexual selection. -on mountain-chains. -offer of help to f. muller. -never afraid of his facts. -an honorary member of the physiological society. -pleasure in discussing geology with lyell. -reads paper before linnean society. -a. rich leaves his fortune to. -on satisfaction of aiding fellow-workers in science. -reminiscences of school-days. -visits sedgwick. -sits to an artist. -on speculation. -style in writing. -gives testimonial in support of hooker's candidature for botanical chair in edinburgh. -theological abuse in the "three barriers." -visits to abinger. -visit to patterdale. -on vitality of seeds. -on volcanic phenomena. -on welsh glaciers. -work on action of carbonate of ammonia on plants. darwin, mrs. charles, impressions of down. -letter to. -passage from darwin's autobiography on. -mentioned. -illness. darwin, emma, see mrs. charles darwin. darwin, erasmus alvey ( - ): elder brother of charles darwin. -death of. -letters to. -mentioned. -visit to. darwin, dr. erasmus: charles darwin's grandfather. -charles darwin's preliminary notice to krause's memoir of. -charles darwin and evolutionary views of. darwin, francis: charles darwin's son. -on bloom and stomata. -on dipsacus. -on huxley's speech at cambridge. -on the knight-darwin law. -on lobing of leaves. -experiments on nutrition. -experiments on plant-movements. -lecture at glasgow (british association, ) on perceptions of plants. -suggestion for romanes' experiments on intelligence. -on vivisection. -on vochting's work. -on wiesner's work. darwin, george: charles darwin's son. -success at cambridge. -criticism of wallace. -elected plumian professor at cambridge. -suggested experiments with magnetic needles and insects. -on galton's work on heredity. -article in "contemporary review" on origin of language. darwin, henrietta (mrs. litchfield): charles darwin's daughter. -criticism of huxley. darwin, horace: charles darwin's son. -remark as a boy on natural selection. -mentioned. darwin, leonard: charles darwin's son. darwin, robert w.: charles darwin's father. -letter to. darwin, susan: charles darwin's sister. -alluded to in early recollections of charles darwin. -illness. -sends wedgwood ware to hooker. darwin, william erasmus: charles darwin's eldest son. -on fertilisation of epipactis palustris. -letter to. "darwin and after darwin," romanes'. "darwiniana," asa gray's. -extract from huxley's. "darwinsche theorie," wagner's book. "darwinism," wallace's. darwinismus, at the british association meeting at norwich ( ). daubeny, prof. charles giles bridle, f.r.s. ( - ): fellow of magdalen college, oxford; elected professor of chemistry in the university ; in he became professor of botany, and in professor of rural economy. -invites darwin to attend british association at oxford. -mentioned. david, prof. edgeworth, and the funafuti boring. dawn of life, oldest fossils do not mark the. dawson, sir j. william, c.m.g., f.r.s. ( - ), was born at pictou, nova scotia, and studied at edinburgh university in - . he was appointed principal of the mcgill university, montreal, in ,--a post which he held thirty-eight years. see "fifty years of work in canada, scientific and educational," by sir william dawson, . -antagonism to darwinism. -criticism of "origin" by. -criticism of hooker's arctic paper. -hooker on. dayman, captain, on soundings. de la beche, sir henry thomas ( - ): was appointed director of the ordnance geological survey in ; his private undertaking to make a geological survey of the mining districts of devon and cornwall led the government to found the national survey. he was also instrumental in forming the museum of practical geology in jermyn street. death, darwin on immortality and. decaisne. decapods, zoea stage of. dedication of hackel's "generelle morphologie" to darwin. dedoublement, theory of. deep-sea soundings, huxley's work on. degeneration, in ammonites. -of culinary plants. -and parasitism. degradation. deification of natural selection. deinosaurus, and free-will. delboeuf's "la psychologie," etc. delpino, f., on asclepiadeae and apocyneae. -on crossing. -on dichogamy. -on fertilisation mechanism. -letter to. -praises axell's book. -mentioned. demosthenes, quoted by darwin. denudation, dana on. -darwin on marine. -comparison of subaerial and marine. -ramsay and jukes overestimate subaerial. deodar, hooker on the. deposition and denudation as measure of time. derby, lady, letter to. descent, falconer on intermediate forms. -from single pair. -owen's belief in doctrine of. -resemblance due to. descent of man. "descent of man," reference in, to effect of climate on species. -reviewed by john morley. -transmission of characters dealt with in. -darwin's work on. -sir w. turner supplies facts for. -wallace on. descent with modification, wallace on. desert animals, and protective colouring. design, darwin on. -examples of. -lord kelvin on. deslongchamps, l., on fertilisation of closed flowers. desmodium gyrans, darwin's experiments on. -leaf movements. development, acceleration and retardation in. -floral. -importance of, in classification. -rate of. -sudden changes during. devonshire commission, report on physiological investigation at kew. devonshire, flora of. dewar, prof., and sir wm. thiselton-dyer, on vitality of seeds in liquid hydrogen. diaheliotropism, f. muller's observations. dialogue, title of paper by asa gray. diatomaceae, beauty of. -conjugation in. dicentra thalictriformis, morphology of tendrils. dichaea, fertilisation mechanism. dichogamy, delpino on. -ignorance of botanists of, prior to publication of "fertilisation of orchids." dick, sir t. lauder, survey of glen roy by. dickens, quotation from. dickson, dr. dickson, w.k. dicotyledons, heer on oldest known. -sudden appearance. didelphys. digestion, beneficial effect on plants. dillwyn, paper in "gardeners' chronicle." diluvium, tails of. dimorphism, in cynips. -darwin on. -difficult to explain. -and mimicry. -in parasitic plants. -wallace on. -walsh on. -weismann on sexual. -in cicadas. -flowers illustrating. -darwin knows no case in very irregular flowers. -in melastomaceae. -in linum. -in eight natural orders. -in primula. -apparent cases due to mere variability. -explanation of. dingo. diodia. dioeciousness, origin of. dionoea, experiments on. response to stimuli. curtis' observations on. dipsacus, f. darwin on. dipterocarpus, survival during glacial period. direct action, arguments against. -darwin led to believe more in. -darwin's desire not to underestimate. -darwin's underestimates. -facts proving. -falconer on. -and hybridity. -importance of. -of pollen. -variation and. direction, sense of, in animals. disease, dobell on "germs and vestiges" of. dispersal, (see also distribution), of seeds. -of shells. distribution, forbes on. -hooker on arctic plants. -of land and sea in former times. -of plants. -factors governing. -of shells. -thiselton-dyer on plant-. -wallace on. -blytt's work on. disuse, darwin on. -effect of. -owen on. divergence, hooker on. -principle of. diversification, darwin's doctrine of the good of. dobell, h., letter to. dogs, descent of. -experiment in painting. -expression. -habits. -rudimentary tail inherited in certain sheep-. dohrn, dr., visits darwin. -serves in franco-prussian war. -extract from letter to. "dolomit riffe," darwin on mojsisovics'. domestic animals, crossing in. -darwin's work on. -settegast on. -variability of. -treatment in "variation of animals and plants." domestication, effects of. -and loss of sterility. domeyko, on chili. dominant forms. don, d., on variation. -mentioned. donders, f.c., on action of eyelids. -letters to. dorkings, power of flight. down, description of house and country. -darwin's satisfaction with his house. -instances of vitality of seeds recorded from. -method of determining plants at. -darwin on geology of. -observations on regular lines of flight of bees at. down (lanugo), on human body. dropmore. drosera, f. darwin's experiments. -"a disguised animal." -darwin's observations on. -darwin's pleasure on proving digestion in. -effect of inorganic substance on. -experiments on absorption of poison. -pfeffer on. -j. scott's paper on. -response to stimuli. -d. filiformis, experiments on. -d. rotundifolia, experiments on. drosophyllum, vernation of. -darwin's work on. -drosophyllum lusitanicum, sent by tait to darwin. -used in portugal to hang up as fly-paper. druidical mounds, seeds from. drummond, j., on fertilisation in leschenaultia formosa. duchesne, on atavism. ducks, period of hatching. -skeletons. -hybrids between fowls and. dufrenoy, pierre armand: published "memoires pour servir a une description geologique de la france," as well as numerous papers in the "annales des mines, comptes rendus, bulletin soc. geol. france," and elsewhere on mineralogical and geological subjects. -geological work of. duncan, rev. j., encourages j. scott's love for plants. dung, plants germinated from locust-. dutrochet, on climbing plants. duval-jouve, on leaf-movement in bryophyllum. dyer, see thiselton-dyer. dytiscus, as means of dispersal of bivalves. ears, loss of voluntary movement. -in man and monkeys. -rudimentary muscles. -wallis's work on. earth, age of the. earth-movements, cause of. -in england. -relation to sedimentation. -subordinate part played by heat in. earthquakes, coincidence of shocks in s. america and elsewhere. -connection with elevation. -connection with state of weather. -darwin on. -in england. -frequency of. -hopkins on. -in scotland. earthworms, darwin's book on. -geological action of. -influence of sea-water on. -f. muller gives darwin facts on. -typhlops and true. echidna, anomalous character of. edentata, migration into n. america. edgeworth, mentioned. edinburgh, darwin's student-days in. -hooker's candidature for chair of botany. "edinburgh review," article on lyell's "antiquity of man." -reference to huxley's royal institution lectures. -owen's article. education, effect of. -influence on children of parents'. edwardsia, seeds possibly floated from chili to new zealand. -in sandwich is. and india. egerton, sir philip de malpas grey- ( - ): devoted himself to the study of fossil fishes, and published several memoirs on his collection, which was acquired by the british museum. eggs, creation of species as. -means of dispersal of molluscan. ehrenberg, ascension i. plants sent to. -on rock-building by infusoria. -darwin's wish that he should examine underclays. eichler, a.w., on morphology of cruciferous flower. -on course of vessels as guide to floral morphology. -reference to his bluthendiagramme. eildon hills, need of examination of. elateridae, luminous thorax of. elective affinity. electric organs of fishes, the result of external conditions. electricity, and plant-movements. "elements of geology," wallace's review of lyell's. elephants, falconer's work on. -rate of increase of. -and variation. -found in gravel at down. -manner of carrying tail. -shedding tears. elephas columbi, falconer on. -owen's conduct in regard to falconer's work on. -e. primigenius, as index of climate. -woolly covering of. -e. texianus, owen and nomenclature of. elevation, in chili. -lines of. -new zealand and. -continental extension, subsidence and. -connection with earthquakes. -equable nature of movements of subsidence and. -evidence in scandinavia and pampas of equable. -hopkins on. -large areas simultaneously affected by. -d'orbigny on sudden. -rate of. -rogers on parallelism of cleavage and axes of. -sedimentary deposits exceptionally preserved during. -subsidence and. -vulcanicity and. elodea canadensis, successful american immigrant. emberiza longicauda, long tail-feathers and sexual selection. embryology, argument for. -succession of changes in animal-. -darwin's explanation of. -of flowers. -of peneus. -balfour's work on comparative. embryonic stages, obliteration of. endlicher's "genera plantarum." engelmann, on variability of introduced plants in n. america. england, former union with continent. -men of science of continent and. entada scandens, dispersal of seeds. entomologists, evolutionary views of. "entstehung und begriff der naturhistorischen art," nageli's essay. -darwin on. environment, and colour protection. eocene, anoplotherium in s. america. -monkeys. -mammals. -co-existence with recent shells. eozoon, illustrating difficulty of distinguishing organic and inorganic bodies. ephemera dimidiatum, lord avebury on. epidendreae, closely related to malaxeae. epidendrum, cruger on fertilisation of. -self-fertilisation of. epiontology, de candolle's term. epipactis, fertilisation mechanism. -f. muller on. -pollinia of. -e. palustris, fertilisation mechanism. epithecia, fertilisation mechanism. equatorial refrigeration. equus, marsh's work on. -geographical distribution. -in n. and s. america. erica tetralix, darwin on. erigeron canadense, successful immigrant from america. erodium cicutarium, introduced from spain to america. -range in u.s.a. erratic blocks, in azores. -in s. america. -darwin on transport. -of jura. -mackintosh on. -on moel tryfan. errera, prof. l., letter to. -and s. gevaert, on cross and self-fertilisation. eruptions, parallelism of lines of, with coast-lines. eryngium maritimum, bloom on. erythrina, macarthur on. -of new s. wales. -sleep movements of. erythroxylon, dimorphism of sub-genus of. eschscholtzia, crossing and self-fertility. -darwin's experiments on self-sterility. -f. muller's experiments in crossing. eschricht, on lanugo on human embryo. escombe, f., on vitality of seeds. -see brown, h.t. esquimaux, natural selection and. "essays and reviews," attitude of laymen towards. eternity, gapitche on. etheridge, robert, f.r.s.: president of geological society in - . etna, sir charles lyell's work on. -map of. eucalyptus, species setting seed. -mentioned. euonymus europaeus, dispersal of seeds. euphorbia, darwin on roots of. -e. peplis, bloom on. euphrasia, parasitism of. europe, movement of. eurybia argophylla, musk-tree of tasmania, an arborescent composite. evergreen vegetation, connection with humid and equable climate. evolution, darwin's early views. -fossil cephalopods used by hyatt as test of. -huxley's lectures on. -of mental traits. -f. muller's contributions to. -nageli's essay, "entstehung und begriff der naturhistorischen art." -palaeontology as illustrating. -romanes' lecture on. -saporta's belief in. -unknown law of. -of angiosperms. -of colour. -and death. -heer opposed to. -of language. -lyell's views (see also lyell). -turner on man and. -wallace on. ewart, prof. c., on telegony. exacum, dimorphism of. experiments, botanical. -tegetmeier's on pigeons. -time expended on. expression, queries on. -bell on anatomy of. -darwin at work on. "expression of the emotions," wallace's review. external conditions, natural selection and. -see also direct action. extinction, behaviour of species verging towards. -contingencies concerned in. -hooker on. -races of man and. -proboscidea verging towards. -st. helena and examples of. eyebrows, use of. eyes, behaviour during meditation. -contraction in blind people of muscles of. -children's habit of rubbing with knuckles. -gorged with blood during screaming. -contraction of iris. -wrinkling of children's. fabre, j.h.: is best known for his "souvenirs entomologiques," in no. vi. of which he gives a wonderfully vivid account of his hardy and primitive life as a boy, and of his early struggles after a life of culture. -letters to. "facts and arguments for darwin," translation of f. muller's "fur darwin." -delay in publication. -sale. -unfavourable review in "athenaeum." fairy rings, darwin compares with fungoid diseases in man and animals. falconer, hugh ( - ): was a student at the universities of aberdeen and edinburgh, and went out to india in as assistant-surgeon on the bengal establishment. in he succeeded dr. royle as the superintendent of the botanic gardens at saharunpur; and in , after spending some years in england, he was appointed superintendent of the calcutta botanical garden and professor of botany in the medical college. although falconer held an important botanical post for many years, he is chiefly known as a palaeozoologist. he seems, however, to have had a share in introducing cinchona into india. his discovery, in company with colonel sir proby t. cautley, of miocene mammalia in the siwalik hills, was at the time perhaps the greatest "find" which had been made. the fossils of the siwalik hills formed the subject of falconer's most important book, "fauna antiqua sivalensis," which, however, remained unfinished at the time of his death. falconer also devoted himself to the investigation of the cave-fauna of england, and contributed important papers on fossils found in sicily, malta, and elsewhere. dr. falconer was a vice-president of the royal society and foreign secretary of the geological society. "falconer did enough during his lifetime to render his name as a palaeontologist immortal in science; but the work which he published was only a fraction of what he accomplished...he was cautious to a fault; he always feared to commit himself to an opinion until he was sure he was right, and he died in the prime of his life and in the fulness of his power." (biographical sketch contributed by charles murchison to his edition of hugh falconer's "palaeontological memoirs and notes," london, ; "proc. r. soc." volume xv., page xiv., : "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxi., page xlv, .) hugh falconer was among those who did not fully accept the views expressed in the "origin of species," but he could differ from darwin without any bitterness. two years before the book was published, darwin wrote to asa gray: "the last time i saw my dear old friend falconer he attacked me most vigorously, but quite kindly, and told me, 'you will do more harm than any ten naturalists will do good. i can see that you have already corrupted and half spoiled hooker.'" ("life and letters," ii., page .) the affectionate regard which darwin felt for falconer was shared by their common friend hooker. the following extract of a letter from hooker to darwin (february rd, ) shows clearly the strong friendships which falconer inspired: "poor old falconer! how my mind runs back to those happiest of all our days that i used to spend at down twenty years ago--when i left your home with my heart in my mouth like a schoolboy. we last heard he was ill on wednesday or thursday, and sent daily to enquire, but the report was so good on saturday that we sent no more, and on monday night he died...what a mountainous mass of admirable and accurate information dies with our dear old friend! i shall miss him greatly, not only personally, but as a scientific man of unflinching and uncompromising integrity--and of great weight in murchisonian and other counsels where ballast is sadly needed." -article in "natural history review." -darwin's copley medal and. -darwin's criticism of his elephant work. -darwin's regard for. -forbes attacked by. -his opinion of forbes. -goes to india. -hooker's regard for. -letter to darwin. -letter to sharpey. -letters to. -letter to "athenaeum." -lyell and. -on mastodon andium. -on mastodon of australia. -on elephants. -owen and. -on phyllotaxis. -on plagiaulax. -speech at cambridge. -"memoirs." falkland islands, darwin visits. -polyborus sp. in. -brightly coloured female hawk. -effect of subsidence. -streams of stones. fanciers, use made of selection by. fantails, see pigeons. faraday, memorial to. faramea, dimorphism. farmer, prof. j.b., and s.e. chandler, on influence of excess of co on anatomy of plants. faroe islands, polygala vulgaris of. farrer, canon, lecture on defects in public school education. -letter to. farrer, lady. farrer, thomas henry, lord ( - ): was educated at eton and balliol college, oxford. he was called to the bar, but gave up practice for the public service, where he became permanent secretary of the board of trade. according to the "times," october th, , "for nearly forty years he was synonymous with the board in the opinion of all who were brought into close relation with it." he was made a baronet in ; he retired from his post a few years later, and was raised to the peerage in . his friendship with mr. darwin was of many years' standing, and opportunities of meeting were more frequent in the last ten years of mr. darwin's life, owing to lord farrer's marriage with miss wedgwood, a niece of mrs. darwin's, and the subsequent marriage of his son horace with miss farrer. his keen love of science is attested by the letters given in the present volume. he published several excellent papers on the fertilisation of flowers in the "ann. and mag. of natural history," and in "nature," between and . in politics he was a radical--a strong supporter of free trade: on this last subject, as well as on bimetallism, he was frequently engaged in public controversy. he loyally carried out many changes in the legislature which, as an individualist, he would in his private capacity have strenuously opposed. in the "speaker," october st, , lord welby heads his article on lord farrer with a few words of personal appreciation:-- "in lord farrer has passed away a most interesting personality. a great civil servant; in his later years a public man of courage and lofty ideal; in private life a staunch friend, abounding as a companion in humour and ripe knowledge. age had not dimmed the geniality of his disposition, or an intellect lively and eager as that of a boy--lovable above all in the transparent simplicity of his character." -interest in torbitt's potato experiment. -letters to. -on earthworms. -observations on fertilisation of passiflora. -recollections of darwin. -seeds sent to. fawcett, henry ( - ): professor of political economy at cambridge, , postmaster-general - . see leslie stephen's well-known "life." -defends darwin's arguments. -letter to. -letter to darwin. fear, expression of. felis, range. fellowships, discussion on abolition of prize-. felspar, segregation of. females, modification for protection. "fenland, past and present," by miller and skertchley. fergusson on darwinism. fernando po, plants of. ferns, scott on spores. -darwin's ignorance of. -variability "passes all bounds." ferrier, dr., groundless charge brought against, for infringement of vivisection act. fertilisation, articles in "gardeners' chronicle." -of flowers. -h. muller's work on. -and sterility. -darwin fascinated by study of. -different mechanisms in same genus. -travelling of reproductive cells in. fertilisation of orchids, darwin's work on. -paper by darwin in "gardeners' chronicle" on. "fertilisation of orchids," asa gray's review. -hooker's review. -description of acropera and catasetum in. -h. muller's "befruchtung der blumen," the outcome of darwin's. fertility, natural selection and. -and sterility. -primula. -scott on varieties and relative. festuca. figs, f. muller on fertilisation of. finmark, bravais on sea-beaches of. fir (silver), witches' brooms of. "first principles," spencer's. fish, pictet and humbert on fossil. fiske, j., letter to. fissure-eruptions. fitton, reference to his work. fitzroy (fitz-roy), captain, and the "beagle" voyage. -writes preface to account of the voyage. -darwin nearly rejected by. -letter to "times." flagellaria, as a climber. flahault, on the peg in cucurbita. fleeming jenkin, review of "origin" by, see jenkin. flinders, m., voyage to terra australis by. flint implements found near bedford. flints, abundance and derivation of, at down. -darwin on their upright position in gravel. floating ice, darwin on agency of. -j. geikie underestimates its importance. -transporting power of. flora, darwin's idea of an utopian. -hooker's scheme for a. -hooker's work on tasmanian. "flora antarctica," hooker's. "flora fossilis arctica," heer's. floras: n. american. arctic. british. colonial. european. french. greenland. holland. india. japan. new zealand. -distribution of. -of islands. -local. -tabulation of. florida, a. agassiz on coral reefs. -coral reefs. flourens, experiments on pigeons. flower, sir william h., letter to. -on muscles of the os coccyx. flowering plants, possible origin on a southern continent. -sudden appearance of. flowers, at down. -darwin's work on forms of. -monstrous. -morphological characters. -regular and irregular. -cross-fertilisation in inconspicuous. -ignorance of botanists on mechanism of. "flowers and their unbidden guests," dr. ogle's translation of kerner's "schutzmittel des pollens." flying machine, darwin on popper's proposed. folding of strata. foliation and cleavage, reference by a. harker to work on. foliation, aqueous deposition and. -darwin considers his observations on cleavage less deserving of confidence than those on. -darwin on. -parallelism with cleavage. -relation to rock-curvature. food, as determining number of species. foraminifera. forbes, d., on the cordilleras. -on elevation in chili. -on nitrate of soda beds in s. america. forbes, edward, f.r.s. ( - ): filled the office of palaeontologist to the ordnance geological survey, and afterwards became president of the geological society; in --the last year of his life--he was appointed to the chair of natural history in the university of edinburgh. forbes published many papers on geological, zoological, and botanical subjects, one of his most remarkable contributions being the well-known essay "on the connexion between the distribution of the existing fauna and flora of the british isles and the geological changes which have affected their area" ("mem. geol. surv." volume i., page , ). (see "proc. roy. soc." volume vii., page , ; "quart. journl. geol. soc." volume xi., page xxvii, , and "ann. mag. nat. hist." volume xv., . -on flora of azores. -on chambers as author of the "vestiges." -on continental extension. -darwin opposed to his views on continental extension. -darwin's opinion of. -article on distribution. -on continuity of land. -on plant-distribution. -introductory lecture as professor in edinburgh. -on former lower extension of glaciers in cordillera. -lecture by. -letter to darwin from. -on madagascar insects. -on post-miocene land. -polarity theory. -on british shells. -too speculative. -on subsidence. -visits down. -mentioned. -royal medal awarded to. -essay on connection between distribution of existing fauna and flora of the british isles and geological changes. forbes, h.o., on melastoma. force and matter, huxley on. forel, auguste: the distinguished author of "les fourmis de la suisse," zurich, , and of a long series of well-known papers. -on ants and beetles. -author of "les fourmis de la suisse." -letter to. forfarshire, lyell on glaciers of. "forms of flowers," de candolle's criticism of darwin's. homomorphic and heteromorphic unions described in. forsyth-major, zoological expedition to madagascar. "fortnightly review," huxley's article on positivism. romanes on evolution. fossil cephalopods, hyatt on. fossil corals. fossil plants, small proportion of. of australia. sudden appearance of angiosperms indicated by. fossil seeds, supposed vivification of. fossils as evidence of variability. fournier, e., de la fecundation dans les phanerogames. fowls, difference in sexes. -purred female. fox, tails of, used by esquimaux as respirators. fox, rev. w. darwin. foxglove, use of hairs in flower. france, edition of "origin" in. -opinion favourable to darwin's views in. -birth-rate. franco-prussian war, opinion in england. -science retarded by. frank, albert bernhard ( - ): began his botanical career as curator of the university herbarium, leipzig, where he afterwards became privatdocent and finally "ausserordentlicher professor." in frank was appointed professor of plant-physiology in the landwirthschaftliche hochschule, berlin. in he was appointed to the imperial gesundheits-amt in berlin, and raised to the rank of regierungsrath. frank is chiefly known for his work on "the assimilation of free nitrogen, etc.," and for his work on "the diseases of plants" ("die krankheiten der pflanzen," ). it was his brilliant researches on growth-curvature ("beitrage zur pflanzen-physiologie," , and "die naturlichen wagerechte richtung von pflanzen-theilen," ) which excited darwin's admiration. -darwin's admiration for his work. franklin, sir j., search expedition. fraser, g., letter to. "fraser's magazine," article by hopkins. -article by galton on twins. -huxley on review in. freemasons' tavern, meeting held at. freewill, a preordained necessity. freke, dr., paper by. freshwater, bee-orchis at. freshwater fauna, ocean faunas compared with. -poverty of. -preservation of. friendly islands, rats regarded as game. fringillidae, colour and sexual selection. frogs, article on spawn of. -f. muller on. -salt water and spawn of. -frozen in glaciers. fruits, bright colours of. fucus, variation in. fuegia, plants of, (see also tierra del fuego). fumaria (corydalis) claviculata, mohl on tendrils. fumariaceae, cross- and self-fertilisation. -morphology of tendrils. funafuti, darwin's theory supported by results of boring in coral island of. fungoid diseases, darwin on. fungus, effect on roots and shoots. "fur darwin," f. muller's (see "facts and arguments for darwin). -darwin quotes. -hooker's opinion of. -publication of. furze, seeds and seedlings. galapagos islands, visited during the "beagle" voyage. -birds of. -character of species of, the beginning of darwin's evolutionary views. -distribution of animals. -distribution of plants. -flora of. -hooker on plants of. -insects. -craters. -fissure eruptions in. -restricted fauna. -sandwich islands and. -subsidence in the. galashiels, terraces near. galaxias, distribution of. gallinaceae, blyth on. -colour of. galls, artificial production of. -cynips and. -hybrids and. -walsh on willow-. gallus bankiva, colour of wings. -colour and environment. -wings of. galton, f., experiments on transfusion of blood. -letters to. -letter to darwin from. -on twins. -on variation. -on heredity. -on human faculty and its development. -on prayer. -proposal to issue health certificates for marriage. game-cock and sexual selection. gamlingay, lilies-of-the-valley at. ganoid fishes, preservation in fresh water. gapitche, a., letter to. "gardeners' chronicle," darwin's article on fertilisation. -darwin's opinion of. -darwin's experiment on immersion of seeds in salt water. -article on orchids. -harvey on darwin. -rivers' articles. -wallace on nests. -darwin's index. gardner, g., "travels in the interior of brazil." gartner, on aquilegia. -experiments on crossing and variation. -on primula. -on verbascum. -darwin's high opinion of his "bastarderzeugung." -beaton's criticism of. -on self-fertilisation in flowers. -mentioned. gaskell, g.a., letter to. gatke, on "heligoland as an ornithological observatory." gaudry, albert: professor of palaeontology in the natural history museum, paris, foreign member of the royal society of london, author of "animaux foss. et geol. de l'attique." -letter to. -on pikermi fossils. gay, on lizards. gazania. gegenbauer, karl: professor of anatomy at heidelberg. -as convert to darwinism. -views on regeneration. geikie, sir a., on age of the earth. -edition of "hutton's theory of the earth." -memoir of sir a.c. ramsay. geikie, prof. j., "ice age." -on intercrossing of erratics. -letters to. -"prehistoric europe." -presidential address, edinburgh british association meeting. geitonogamy, kerner suggests term. gemmation and dimorphism. gemmules, in reproductive organs. -and bud-variation. genealogy and classification. genera, aberrant. -range of large and small. -variation of. -wallace on origin of. "genera plantarum," work on the. generalisations, evil of. -easier than careful observation. -importance. "generelle morphologie," darwin on hackel's. "genesis of species," mivart's geographical distribution, l. agassiz on. -darwin on. -darwin's high opinion of value of. -darwin's interest in. -e. forbes on. -huxley on birds and. -proposed work by hooker on. -relation of genera an important element in. -humboldt the founder of. "geographical distribution of animals," darwin's criticism of wallace's. "geographical distribution of mammals," a. murray's. geographical regions, darwin on. geological committee on the parallel roads of glen roy. "geological gossip," ansted's. "geological instructions," darwin's manual of. "geological observations in s. america," darwin's. -darwin on his. geological record, imperfection of the. -morse on the. geological society, award of medal to darwin. -darwin signs hooker's certificate. -museum of. -darwin attends council meeting. geological survey, foundation of. -investigation of the parallel roads of glen roy. geological time, article in "n. british review." geologist, darwin as. geologists, evolutionary views of. geology, arguments in favour of evolution from. -chapter in "origin" on. -practical teaching of. -english work in. -hooker talks of giving up. -lyellian school. -progress of. geotropism, darwin on. german, darwin's slight knowledge of. germany, converts to evolution in. -opinion on the "origin" in. -englishmen rejoice over victory of. germination of seeds, darwin's experiments on effect of salt water. "germs and vestiges of disease," dobell's. gesneria, darwin on dimorphism of. gestation of hounds. gibraltar, elevation and subsidence of. gilbert, sir j.h.: of rothamsted. -letter to. -on nitrogen in worms' casting. -and sir j. lawes, rothamsted experiments. glacial period, absence of phanerogams near polar regions in n. america during. -bates on. -climatic changes since. -conditions during. -continental changes since. -darwin's views on geographical changes as cause of. -destruction of organisms during. -destruction of spanish plants in ireland. -distribution of organisms affected by. -duration of. -effect on animals and plants. -and elephants. -s.e. england dry land during. -greenland depopulated during. -introduction of old world forms into new world subsequent to. -migration during. -mundane character of. -subsidence of alps during. -croll on. -existence of alpine plants before. -hooker on. -glen roy and. -lyell on. -extinction of mammals during. -wallace on. -movement of europe since and during. glaciers, agassiz on. -lyell on. -tyndall's book on. -as agents in the formation of lakes. -darwin on structure of. -hooker on yorkshire. -moseley on motion of. -physics of. -parallel roads of glen roy formed by. -rock-cavities formed by cascades in. -in s. america. -in wales. gladstone, herbert spencer on criticisms by. glass, dr., on grafting sugar-canes. glen collarig, absence of terminal moraines. -terraces in. glen glaster, absence of terminal moraines. -barriers of detritus. -milne on. -shelves of. glen gluoy, shelves of. glen roy, parallel roads of. -l. agassiz on. -darwin on. -darwin's mistake over. -darwin on ice-lake theory of agassiz and buckland. -glacier theory of. -history of work on. -hooker on. -marine theory of. -milne-home's paper on. -investigated by geological survey. -coincidence of shelves with watersheds. -measurement of terraces. glen spean. glen turret, macculloch on. gloriosa, darwin's experiments on leaf-tendrils. glossotherium listai. gloxinia, peloric forms of. gnaphalium. gneiss, darwin on. god, darwin on existence of personal. godron, on aegilops. godron's "flora of france." goethe, darwin's reference to. -owen on. goldfinch, difference in beaks of male and female. gongora, and acropera. -darwin on. -g. fusca (see acropera luteola). -g. galeata (see a. loddigesii). gondwana land. goodenia, hamilton on fertilisation of. goodeniaceae. gordon, general, huxley on darwin and. gosse, e., "life of p.h. gosse" by. gosse, philip henry ( - ): was an example of that almost extinct type-- a naturalist with a wide knowledge gained at first hand from nature as a whole. this width of culture was combined with a severe and narrow religious creed, and though, as edmund gosse points out, there was in his father's case no reconcilement of science and religion, since his "impressions of nature" had to give way absolutely to his "convictions of religion," yet he was not debarred by his views from a friendly intercourse with darwin. he did much to spread a love of natural history, more especially by his seaside books, and by his introduction of the aquarium-- the popularity of which (as mr. edmund gosse shows) is reflected in the pages of "punch," especially in john leech's illustrations. kingsley said of him (quoted by edmund gosse, page ) "since white's "history of selborne" few or no writers on natural history, save mr. gosse and poor mr. edward forbes, have had the power of bringing out the human side of science, and giving to seemingly dry disquisitions...that living and personal interest, to bestow which is generally the special function of the poet." among his books are the "naturalist's sojourn in jamaica," ; "a naturalist's rambles on the devonshire coast," ; "omphalos," ; "a year at the shore," . he was also author of a long series of papers in scientific journals. -letter to. gould, on sex in nightingales. gower street, darwin's house in. gradation in plants. graft-hybrids, experiments on. -of cytisus. -hildebrand on. -of potatoes. -of sugar-canes. grafting, darwin on. -difficulty of. -in hyacinth bulbs. graham's "creed of science." gramineae, darwin on crossing. granite, explanation of association with basalt. grasses, range of genera. -cleistogamous. -fertilisation of. -f. muller on brazilian. gratiolet, on behaviour of eyes in rage. gravity, comparison between variation and laws of. gray, asa ( - ): was born in the township of paris, oneida co., new york. he became interested in science when a student at the fairfield academy; he took his doctor's degree in , but instead of pursuing medical work he accepted the post of instructor in chemistry, mineralogy, and botany in the high school of utica. gray afterwards became assistant to professor torrey in the new york medical school, and in he was appointed curator and librarian of the new york lyceum of natural history. from to he occupied the chair of natural history in harvard college, and the post of director of the cambridge botanical gardens; from till the time of his death he was relieved of the duties of teaching and of the active direction of the gardens, but retained the herbarium. professor gray was a foreign member of the linnean and of the royal societies. the "flora of north america" (of which the first parts appeared in ), "manual of the botany of the northern united states, the botany of commodore wilkes' south pacific exploring expedition" are among the most important of gray's systematic memoirs; in addition to these he wrote several botanical text-books and a great number of papers of first-class importance. in an obituary notice written by sir joseph hooker, asa gray is described as "one of the first to accept and defend the doctrine of natural selection..., so that darwin, whilst fully recognising the different standpoints from which he and gray took their departures, and their divergence of opinion on important points, nevertheless regarded him as the naturalist who had most thoroughly gauged the "origin of species," and as a tower of strength to himself and his cause" ("proc. r. soc." volume xlvi., page xv, : "letters of asa gray," edited by jane loring gray, volumes, boston, u.s., ). -articles by. -as advocate of darwin's views. -darwin's opinion of. -on hooker's antarctic paper. -on large genera varying. -letters to darwin from. -letters to. -on darwin's views. -plants of the northern states. -on variation. -book for children by. -on crossing. -visits down. -on dimorphism. -on agassiz. -extract from letter to g.f. wright from. -on fertilisation of cypripedium. -on gymnadenia tridentata. -on habenaria. -on passiflora. -on relative ranges of u. states and european species. -on sarracenia. -mentioned. gray, mrs. gray, dr. john edward, f.r.s. ( - ): became an assistant to the natural history department of the british museum in , and was appointed keeper in . dr. gray published a great mass of zoological work, and devoted himself "with unflagging energy to the development of the collections under his charge." ("ann. mag. nat. hist." volume xv., page , .) -and british museum. greatest happiness principle. grebes, as seed-eaters. greenland, absence of arctic leguminosae. -connection with norway. -flora of. -introduction of plants by currents. -as line of communication of alpine plants. -migration of european birds to. greg, w.r.: author of "the enigmas of life," . -darwin on his "enigmas of life." -letter to. grey, sir g., on australian savages. grinnell expedition, reference to the second. grisebach, a. grisebach, a.w. grossulariaceae. grouse, natural selection and colours of. -owen describes as distinct creation. grypotherium darwini. -g. domesticum. guiana, bates on. gulf-weed, darwin on. gully dr. gunther, dr., visit to down. gurney, e., articles in "fortnightly" and "cornhill." -"power of sound." gymnadenia, course of vessels in flower of. -asa gray on. -penetration by pollen of rostellum. gynodioecism in plantago. haast, sir julius von, ( - ): published several papers on the geology of new zealand, with special reference to glacial phenomena. ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxi., pages , , ; volume xxiii., page , .) -on glacial deposits. habenaria, azorean species (see also peristylus viridis). -course of vessels in flower. -lord farrer on. -morphology of flower. -h. bifolia, flowers. -a subspecies of h. chlorantha. -h. chlorantha, considered by bentham a var. of h. bifolia. -structure of ovary. hackel, e., convert to darwin's views. -"generelle morphologie." -die kalkschwamme. -"freedom in science and teaching." -letters to. -on pangenesis. -proposed translation of his book. -on reviews of "origin" in germany. -on sponges. -substitutes a molecular hypothesis for pangenesis. -visits down. -on absence of colour-protection in lower animals. -on change of species. -on linope. -on medusae. haematoxylon, bloom-experiments on. -sleep-movements. halictus, fabre's paper on. halimeda, darwin's description of. halleria, woody nature of. hallett, on varieties of wheat. hamilton, on fertilisation of dampiera. hamilton, sir w., on law of parsimony. hancock, albany ( - ): author of many zoological and palaeontological papers. his best-known work, written in conjunction with joshua alder, and published by the ray society is on the british nudibranchiate mollusca. the royal medal was awarded to him in . -on british shells. -and royal medal. hanley, dr., darwin's visit to. harker, a., note on darwin's work on cleavage and foliation. hartman, dr., on cicada septendecim. "harvesting ants and trap-door spiders," moggridge's. harvey, william henry ( - ): was the author of several botanical works, principally on algae; he held the botanical professorship at trinity college, dublin, and in succeeded professor allman in the chair of botany in dublin university. (see "life and letters," ii., pages - .) -criticism of "origin." -darwin's opinion of his book. -letter to. -mentioned. -on variation in fucus. haughton, samuel ( - ): author of "animal mechanics, a manual of geology," and numerous papers on physics, mathematics, geology, etc. in november darwin wrote to sir j.d. hooker: "do you know whether there are two rev. prof. haughtons at dublin? one of this name has made a splendid medical discovery of nicotine counteracting strychnine and tetanus? can it be my dear friend? if so, he is at full liberty for the future to sneer [at] and abuse me to his heart's content." unfortunately, prof. haughtons' discovery has not proved of more permanent value than his criticism on the "origin of species." -on bees' cells. -on depth of ocean. -review by. -mentioned. hawaiian islands, hillebrand's flora. -plants. hawks and owls as agents in seed-dispersal. -bright colours in female. head, expression in movement of. hearne, on black bear. heat, action on rocks. heathcote, miss. heaths, as examples of boreal plants in azores. -and climate. heberden, dr., mentioned. hector. hedgehog, movements of spines. hedychium, darwin's prediction as to fertilisation of. -paraheliotropism. hedyotis, dimorphism of. hedysarum, darwin's experiments on (see desmodium gyrans). heer, oswald ( - ): was born at niederutzwyl, in the canton of st. gall, switzerland, and for many years ( - ) occupied the chair of botany in the university of zurich. while eminent as an entomologist heer is chiefly known as a writer on fossil plants. he began to write on palaeobotanical subjects in ; among his most important publications, apart from the numerous papers contributed to scientific societies, the following may be mentioned: "flora tertiaria helvetiae," - ; the "flora fossilis arctica," volumes, - ; "die urwelt der schweiz," ; "flora fossilis helvetiae," - . he was awarded the wollaston medal of the geological society in , and in he received a royal medal. (oswald heer, "bibliographie et tables iconographiques," par g. malloizel, precede d'une notice biographique" par r. zeiller; stockholm.) -on continental extension. -on plants of madeira. -on origin of species from monstrosities. -darwin sends photograph to. -"flora fossilis arctica." -letter to. heeria (see also heterocentron). -f. muller on. heifers, and sterility. helianthemum, baillon's observations on pollen. heligoland, birds alight on sea near. heliotropism, experiments on. -of roots. hemsley, w.b., mentioned. hennessey. henry, i.a. (see anderson-henry) -letter to. henslow, prof. j.s., life of. -darwin's affection for. -darwin's cambridge recollections of. -death of. -letters to. -mentioned. -on mus messorius. -visits down. -darwin on his parish work. -work on crossing. henslow, miss, mentioned. herbaceous orders, in relation to trees. herbert, dean, on heaths of s. africa. -on polygala. -on cytisus adami. -on self-fertility of hippeastrum. -mentioned. "hereditary genius," francis galton's. hereditary improvement, francis galton on. heredity, darwin's criticism of galton's theory. hermaphroditism, in trees. -weir on lepidoptera and. -and nature of generative organs. herminium monorchis. heron, sir r., on peacocks and colour. herons, as fruit-feeders. herschel, sir j.f.w., edits "manual of scientific enquiry." -on natural selection. -on the "origin." -"physical geography." -on providential laws. -on heating of rocks. -on importance of generalising. -on study of languages. -versus lyell on volcanic islands. -mentioned. heteranthera, two kinds of stamens. -h. reniformis. heterocentron, experiments on. -seeds of. -two kinds of stamens. -h. roseum, fertilisation mechanism of. heterogeny, owen on. heteromorphic, use of term. heterosmilax, de candolle on. heterostylism, darwin's experiments on. -example in monocotyledons of. hewitt, on pheasant-hybrids. -mentioned. hibiscus. hicks, h., on pre-cambrian rocks. hieracium, american species. -nageli on. -variability of. highness, lowness and. hilaire, a. st., see st. hilaire. hildebrand, f., article in "botanische zeitung." -experiments on direct action of pollen. -"die lebensdauer der pflanzen." -letter to. -crossing work by. -on delpino's work. -on dispersal of seeds. -self-sterility in corydalis cava. -"geschlechter-vertheilung bei den pflanzen." -on orchids. -on ovules formed after pollination. -experiment on potatoes. -on salvia. -mentioned. hilgendorf, controversy with sandberger. hillebrand's flora of the hawaiian islands. "himalayan journals," dedicated by hooker to darwin. "himalayan plants, illustrations of." himalayas, british plants in. -commingling of temperate and tropical plants. -tortoise of. -ice-action in. -mixed character of the vegetation. hinde, dr., examination of funafuti coral-reef cores by. hindmarsh, l., letter to. hippeastrum, herbert on self-sterility of. hippopotamus, fossil in madagascar. historic spirit, j. morley's criticism of darwin's lack of. hitcham, collection of azorean plants made near. hobhouse, sir a., darwin meets. hochberg, k., letter to. hofmann, a.w., receives royal medal. holland, evolutionary opinions in. -flora of. holland, sir h., on pangenesis. -mentioned. -on influence of mind on circulation. holly, effective work of insects in fertilisation of. hollyhock, darwin's crossing experiments. holmsdale. home, see milne-home. homing experiments. homo, pithecus compared with. homology, analogy and. -course of vessels in flowers as guide to. homomorphic, use of term. honeysuckle, oak-leaved variety. hooker, mrs., assists sir j.d. hooker. hooker, sir j.d., addresses at british association meetings. -on arctic plants. -australian flora by. -botanical appointment. -c.b. conferred upon. -on coal plants and conditions of growth. -criticism on lyell's work. -on darwin's ms. on geographical distribution. -darwin's admiration for letters of. -darwin assisted in his work by. -darwin on good gained by "squabbles" with. -darwin on success of. -enjoyment of correspondence with darwin. -expedition to syria. -extract from letter to. -falconer and. -first meeting with darwin. -on insular floras. -introductory essay to flora of tasmania. -lecture at royal institution. -letters to. -letters to darwin from. -on new colonial flora. -on new zealand flora. -on natural selection. -on naturalised plants. -on the "origin." -and owen. -on pangenesis. -on plants of fernando po and abyssinia. -on preservation of tropical plants during cool period. -and reviews. -royal medal awarded to. -and j. scott. -on species. -on torbitt's potato experiments. -on use of terms centripetal and centrifugal. -on variation in large and small genera. -on welwitschia. -on cameroon plants. -darwin on his address at belfast. -darwin writes testimonial for. -darwin values scientific opinion of. -darwin receives encouragement from. -darwin's pleasure at visits from. -on glacial period. -on glacial deposits in india. -on glaciers in yorkshire. -notice in "gardeners' chronicle" on. -photograph by mrs. cameron. -primer of botany by. -review of darwin's "fertilisation of orchids." -scheme for flora. -represents "whole great public" to darwin. -use of structure in plants. -visits down. -opinion of "fur darwin." -mentioned. hooker, sir william jackson ( - ): was called to the chair of botany at glasgow in , where by his success as a teacher he raised the annual fees from pounds to pounds. in he became director of the royal botanic gardens at kew, which under his administration increased enormously in activity and importance. his private herbarium, said to be "by far the richest ever accumulated in one man's lifetime," formed the nucleus of the present collection. he produced, as author or editor, about a hundred volumes devoted to botany ("dict. of nat. biog."). -herbarium at kew belonging to. -letters to. -mentioned. hopkins, william, f.r.s. ( - ) entered peterhouse, cambridge, at the age of thirty, and in took his degree as seventh wrangler. for some years hopkins was very successful as a mathematical tutor; about he began to take a keen interest in geological subjects, and especially concerned himself with the effects of elevating forces acting from below on the earth's crust. he was president of the geological society in and ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxiii., page xxix, ). -article in "fraser's magazine." -on elevation and earthquakes. -on mountain-building. -researches in physical geology. -mentioned. horner, leonard, f.r.s. ( - ): was born in edinburgh, at the age of twenty-one he settled in london, and devoted himself more particularly to geology and mineralogy, returning a few years later to edinburgh, where he took a prominent part in founding the school of art and other educational institutions. in mr. horner was invited to occupy the post of warden in the london university,a position which he resigned in ; he also held for some years an inspectorship of factories. as a fellow of the royal society, mr. horner "took an active part in bringing about certain changes in the management of the society, which resulted in limiting to fifteen the number of new members to be annually elected..." in horner was elected president of the geological society; and in he again presided over the society, to the interests of which he had long devoted himself. his contributions to the society include papers on stratigraphical geology, mineralogy, and other subjects.--"memoirs of leonard horner," edited by his daughter, katherine m. lyell (privately printed, ). -letters to. -memoirs of. -address to geological society. -on coal. -on darwin's "geological observations." -visits down. -mentioned. horner, mrs. l. horse, ancestry. -arab-turk and english race-. -hybrids between quagga and. -in n. and s. america. -equality of sexes in race-. horsfall, w., letter to. hottonia, dimorphism of. hounds, gestation of. howard, l.o. hoya carnosa, darwin's work on. humble-bees, as agents of fertilisation of orchids. humboldt, bates' description of tropical forests compared with that by. -conversation with. -on heath regions. -on migration and double creation. -"personal narrative." -on violet of teneriffe. -darwin's opinion of. -on elevation and volcanic activity. -mentioned. humboldt and webb, on zones on teneriffe. hume, darwin on huxley's "life" of. humming-birds, agents of fertilisation. hunger, expression by sheldrakes of. husbands, resemblance between wives and. hutton, frederick wollaston, f.r.s., formerly curator of the canterbury museum, christchurch, new zealand, author of "darwinism and lamarckism, old and new," london, . -letter to. -review of "origin." hutton, james, ( - ): author of "theory of the earth." huxley, l., reference to his "life of t.h. huxley." -information given by. huxley, prof. t.h., biographical note, volume i. -article in "annals and magazine" in reply to falconer. -on aphis. -on automatism. -catalogue of collections in museum of practical geology. -comparative anatomy by. -on comte. -on cuvier's classification. -darwin's value of his opinion. -election to the athenaeum. -friendship with darwin. -on growth of darwin's views. -lectures at the royal institution. -lectures on evolution by. -lectures to working men. -legacy and gift to. -letters to. -"life of hume." -"man's place in nature." -marriage. -misrepresented by owen. -founds "natural history review." -obituary notice of darwin. -on the "origin of species." -on owen's archetype book. -president of the british association meeting at liverpool ( ). -on priestley. -quoted by lord kelvin as an unbeliever in spontaneous generation. -reviews by. -review of "vestiges of creation" by. -on sabine's address. -on saltus. -prefatory note to hackel's "freedom in science and teaching." -address to geological society ( ). -on classification of man. -on contemporaneity. -on catasetum. -on deep-sea soundings. -legacy from a. rich. -on lyell's "principles." -on use of term physiological species. -on vivisection. -and h.n. martin, "elementary biology" by. -mentioned. huxley, mrs. t.h., queries on expression sent by darwin to. -observations on child crying. -mentioned. hyacinth, experiment on bulbs. hyatt, alpheus ( - ): was a student under louis agassiz, to whose laboratory he returned after serving in the civil war, and under whom he began the researches on fossil cephalopods for which he is so widely known. in he became one of the curators of the essex institute of salem, mass. in he was made custodian, and in curator of the boston society of natural history. he held professorial chairs in boston university and in the massachusetts institute of technology, and "was at one time or another officially connected with the museum of comparative zoology and the united states geological survey." see mr. s. henshaw ("science," xv., page , february ), where a sketch of mr. hyatt's estimable personal character is given. see also prof. dall in the "popular science monthly," february . -and hilgendorf. -letters to. -letters to darwin from. -on tetrabranchiata. hyatt and cope, theories of. hybridism, chapter in "origin" on. -bentham's address on. -treatment by darwin in "variation of animals and plants." hybrids, and adaptation. -darwin's views on. -evidence in favour of pangenesis from. -experiments on. -fertility of. -intermediate character of. -primrose and cowslip. -article in "quarterly review" on. -sterility of. -max wichura on. -bronn on. -f. muller's work on. -and heterostyled plants. -rarity of natural. -j. scott's work on. -tendency to reversion. hydra, sexuality of. hydropathy, darwin and. hydrozoa, alternation of generations in. hymenoptera, affinities of. -h. muller on. hypericum perforatum, a social plant in u.s.a. hyracotherium cuniculus, owen on. iberis, mucus in seeds of. ice, as agent in dispersal of boulders. -agent in dispersal of plants. -forbes on transport by. -agent in lake-formation. -cleavage in. -work of, a new factor in geology. ice-action, on land and sea. icebergs, as factor in explaining european plants in azores. -croll on action of. -darwin on. -evidence in s. america of. -hopkins on action of. ice-cap, of arctic regions. iceland, importance of records of volcanic phenomena in. ignorance, darwin on immensity of man's. ilkley, darwin's visit to. illegitimate offspring, need for repetition of darwin's experiments on plants'. imatophyllum. immortality, darwin on. immutability of species. -falconer disbelieves in. -darwin on. imperfection of the geological record, see geological record. impotence in plants. -see also self-sterility. india, british rule in. -flora of. -hooker in. -varieties of domestic animals in. -h.f. blanford on. -darwin on origin of lakes in. -evidence of colder climate in. -j. scott accepts post in. infants, mrs. e talbot on development of mind in. -observations on ears of. infusoria, possible occurrence in underclays of coal. inglis, sir r., darwin at breakfast party. inheritance, atavism and. -conservative tendency of long. -hackel on. -hypothesis on. -jager on. -and natural selection. -power of. -j.c. prichard on. -and variability. -darwin on. -galton on. insanity, concealment of. "insect life," howard's. insectivorous plants, darwin's work on. insects, alpine. -lord avebury on. -bates on. -fossil. -luminous. -of madeira. -f. muller on metamorphosis of. -sharp's book on. -study of habits more valuable than description of new species. -wingless. -wollaston on. -antiquity of stridulating organs in. -colour and sexual selection. -h. muller's work on adaptation to fertilisation of flowers. -metamorphosis of. -music as attraction to. -observation on fertilisation of flowers by. -ramsay on. -riley's work on. -tropical climate and colours of. instinct, darwin and. -in nest-making. -selection of varying. insular floras. -hooker's lecture on. insular forms, in galapagos, canaries and madeira. -beaten by continental forms. intelligence, meaning of. -romanes on animal. -in worms. intercrossing, in pigeons. -darwin on effects of. -and sterility. interglacial periods, darwin on evidence for. intermediate forms. -bates' paper on. -s. american types as. -crossing and frequent absence of. -extinction of. -falconer on existence of. -as fossils. -asa gray on. -plagiaulax as evidence of. -wollaston on rarity in insects. introduced plants, sonchus in new zealand as example of. -in n. america and australia. -variability of. -darwin on. introductory essay to tasmanian "flora," hooker's. ipswich, british association meeting ( ). iquique, nitrate of soda beds at. ireland, spanish plants in. iris, flowers of. -nectar secretion of. islands, comparison between species of rising and sinking. -fauna of. -introduction of plants. -products of. -plants with irregular flowers on. -subsidence of coral. -survival of ancient forms in. -volcanic. -comparison of age of continents and. -former greater extension of. "island life," darwin's criticism of wallace's. isle of wight, occurrence of bee-orchis in. isnardia palustris, range of. isolation, bentham underestimates importance of. -darwin's opinion of. -importance of. -wagner exaggerates importance of. -weismann on effects of. itajahy, f. muller's narrow escape from flood of. italy, flora of. ivy, difference in growth of flowering and creeping branches. jaeger, g., letter to. -on pangenesis and inheritance. james', sir h., discussion in "athenaeum" on change of climate. -map of the world. james island, darwin's plants from. jameson. jamieson, w., on s. america. -darwin converted to glacial theory of glen roy after publication of paper by. janet, on natural selection. japan, american types in. -flora of. -gray's work on plants of. -progress of. java, botanical relation to africa. -alpine plants of. -wallace on. jays, crows and. -repeated pairing of. jeffreys, gwyn, shells sent by darwin to. jenkin, fleeming, review by. jenners, taste for natural history in the. jenyns (blomefield), rev. leonard: the following sketch of the life of rev. leonard blomefield is taken from his "chapters in my life; reprint with additions" (privately printed), bath, . he was born, as he states with characteristic accuracy, at p.m., may th, ; and died at bath, september st, . his father--a second cousin of soame jenyns, from whom he inherited bottisham hall, in cambridgeshire--was a parson-squire of the old type, a keen sportsman, and a good man of business. leonard jenyns' mother was a daughter of the celebrated dr. heberden, in whose house in pall mall he was born. leonard was educated at eton and cambridge, and became curate of swaffham bulbeck, a village close to his father's property; he was afterwards presented to the vicarage of the parish, and held the living for nearly thirty years. the remainder of his life he spent at bath. he was an excellent field-naturalist and a minute and careful observer. among his writings may be mentioned the fishes in "zoology of the voyage of the 'beagle,'" , a "manual of british vertebrate animals," , a "memoir" of professor henslow, , to which darwin contributed recollections of his old master, "observations in natural history," and "observations in meteorology," , besides numerous papers in scientific journals. in his "chapters" he describes himself as showing as a boy the silent and retiring nature, and also the love of "order, method, and precision," which characterised him through life; and he adds, "even to old age i have been often called a very particular gentleman." in a hitherto unpublished passage in his autobiographical sketch, darwin wrote, "at first i disliked him from his somewhat grim and sarcastic expression; and it is not often that a first impression is lost; but i was completely mistaken, and found him very kind- hearted, pleasant, and with a good stock of humour." mr. jenyns records that as a boy he was by a stranger taken for a son of his uncle, dr. heberden (the younger), whom he closely resembled. -letters to. -mentioned. jodrell laboratory, darwin's interest in. -note on. jordanhill, smith of, on gibraltar. "journal of researches," darwin's. judd, prof. j.w., letter to. -recollections of darwin. -on darwin's "volcanic islands." -darwin in praise of work of. jukes, on imperfection of the geological record. -on changes of climate. -on formation of river-valleys. -over estimates sub-aerieal denudation. jumps, variation by. juncus, range of. -j. bufonius. -variation of. -germination of seed from mud carried by woodcock. jura, darwin on erratic blocks of. jussieu, a. de. kane's, e.k., "arctic explorations," use of foxtails by esquimaux referred to in. kelvin, lord, address at the british association meeting at edinburgh ( ). -on geological time. -on age of the earth. -on origin of plant-life from meteorites. kemp, w., sends seeds to darwin. -on vitality of seeds. kensington, proposed removal of british museum (bloomsbury) collections to. kerguelen cabbage, chambers versus hooker on the. kerguelen island, coal-beds of. -relation of flora to that of fuegia. -similarity between plants of s. america and of. -importance of collecting fossil plants on. -moth from. -sea-shells of. -volcanic mountain on. kerner, a. von marilaun, on tubocytisus. -"pflanzenleben." -"schutzmittel des pollens." -on xenogamy and autogamy. -mentioned. kerr, on frozen snow. kerr, prof. graham. kew, proposed consolidation of botanical collections at. -rarity of insects and shells in royal garden. -darwin visits garden. -darwin obtains plants from. -darwin sends seeds to. -jodrell, laboratory at. -struggle for existence at. -suggestion that j. scott should work in garden. kilauea, lava in crater of. kilfinnin, shelves in valley of. kilima njaro, plants of. king, captain, collection of plants by. -"voyages of the 'adventure' and 'beagle.'" king, sir george, reminiscences of j. scott. -darwin receives seeds from. king, dr. richard ( ?- ): he was surgeon and naturalist to sir george back's expedition ( - ) to the mouth of the great fish river in search of captain ross, of which he published an account. in he accompanied captain horatio austin's search expedition in the "resolute." -arctic expedition. kingfisher, sexual difference in. kingsley, c., quoted in the "origin." -story of a heathen khan. -reference to e. forbes and p.h. gosse. kini balu, vegetation of. kirby and spence. klebs, on use of mucus in seeds. knight, a., on crossing. -hybrid experiments. -on sports. knight's law. knight-darwin law, f. darwin on. knuth, on morphology of cruciferous flower. koch's "flora germanica." kolliker, visits down. kollmann, dr., on atavism. kolreuter, on aquilegia. -on hybrids. -observations on pollen. -on self-fertilisation. -on varieties of tobacco. "kosmos," f. muller's article on crotolaria. -f. muller's paper on phyllanthus in. krause, e., letter to. -memoir of erasmus darwin. -memoir of h. muller. kroyer. kubanka, form of russian wheat. kurr, on flowers of canna. la plata, h.m.s. "beagle's" visit to. -cervus of. -mylodon of. -plants of. -extinct animals from. -slates and schists of. labellum, nature of. labiatae, large genera of. laboratory, darwin on the instruments for botanical. -founding of jodrell. laburnum, peloric flowers of. -darwin on hybrid (see also cytisus). ladizabala, crossing experiments on. lagerstraemia (lagerstroemia), f. muller on. lakes, darwin on ramsay's theory of. -as agents in forming parallel roads of glen roy. -of friesland. -geological action of. -ramsay on. lamarck, darwin on views of. -difference between views of darwin and. -"hist. zoolog." of. -hopkins on darwin and. -packard's book on. -quotation from. lamellicorns, f. muller on sexes in. -stridulating organs of. lamont, james, f.g.s., f.r.g.s.: author of "seasons with the sea-horses; etc.; yachting in the arctic seas, or notes of five voyages of sport and discovery in the neighbourhood of spitzbergen and novaya zemlya," london, ; and geological papers on spitzbergen. -letters to. lampyridae, luminous organs of. land, fauna of sea compared with that of. -changes in level of sea the cause of those on. land-birds, resting on the sea. land-shells, dispersal of. -of glacial period. -modification of. land-surfaces, preservation for long periods. landois, reference to paper by. language, observations bearing on origin of. -sir j. herschel on study of. lankester, e. ray, letter to. -drawing of earthworm used in darwin's book. lankester, e. (senior), speech at manchester british association meeting ( ), on darwin's theory. lantana, in ceylon. lanugo, on human foetus. lapland, richness of flora. latania lodigesii, peculiar to round island. latent characters, tendency to appear temporarily in youth. lathyrus aphaca. -l. grandiflorus, fertilisation of. -l. nissolia, evolution of. -explanation of grass-like leaves. -darwin on. -l. maritimus, bloom on. -l. odoratus, fertilisation of. -intercrossing of varieties. lauder-dick, sir thomas, on parallel roads of glen roy. laurel, extra-floral nectaries of. lava, darwin and scrope on separation of constituent minerals of. -elie de beaumont's measurements of inclination of. -fluidity of. -junction between dykes and. -and metamorphic schists. -scrope on basaltic and trachytic. -subsidence due to outpouring of. law, of balancement. -of growth. -of higgledy-piggledy. -of perfectibility by nageli. -of sterility. -of succession. -of variation. lawes, sir j.b., and sir j.h. gilbert, rothamsted experiments. laxton, t., close on the trail of mendelian principle. "lay sermons," huxley's. leaves, movements of. -used by worms in plugging burrows. lebanon, glacial action on. -plants of. -hooker on cedars of. lecky, rt. hon. w.e.h., darwin's interest in book by. -quoted in "descent of man." lecoq, "geographie botanique." -on self-sterility. -mentioned. lectures, darwin on edinburgh university, (see also hooker and huxley). -max muller's, on science of language. ledebour, allusion to book by. leeds, address by owen at. leersia oryzoides, cleistogamic flowers of. leggett, w.h., on rhexia virginica. legitimate unions, heteromorphic or. leguminosae, absence in greenland. -absent in new zealand. -anomalous genera in. -crossing in. -scarcity in humid temporate regions. -seeds of. -example of inherited pelorism in. -lord farrer's observations on fertilisation of. -nectar-holders in flowers. -reason for absence of. leibnitz, rejection of theory of gravity by. lemuria, continent of. lepadidae, darwin's work on, (see also barnacles). -fossil. lepas, nomenclature of. lepidodendron. lepidoptera, sexual selection in. -breeding in confinement. -f. muller on mimicry in. -protection afforded by wings. -want of colour-perception. -weir on apterous. lepidosiren, reason for preservation of. leptotes. leschenaultia, fertilisation mechanism. -self-fertilisation of. -l. biloba, fertilisation mechanism of. -l. formosa, fertilisation mechanism of. lesquereux, leo ( - ): was born in switzerland, but his most important works were published after he settled in the united states in . beginning with researches on mosses and peat, he afterwards devoted himself to the study of fossil plants. his best known contributions to palaeobotany are a series of monographs on cretaceous and tertiary floras ( - ), and on the coal-flora of pennsylvania and the united states generally, published by the second geological survey of pennsylvania between and (see l.f. ward, sketch of palaeobotany, "u.s. geol. surv., th ann. rep." - ; also "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xlvi., "proc." page , . -convert to evolution. -on coal floras. leuckart, rudolf ( - ): professor of zoology at leipzig. -convert to darwin's views. lewes, g.h., ( - ): author of a "history of philosophy," etc. -letter to. lewy, naphtali, letter to darwin from. lias, cephalopods from the. life, bastian's book on the beginnings of. -mystery of, -origin of. -principle of. -bearing of vitality of seeds on problem of. light, action on plants of flashing. lima, darwin visits. limulus. linaria, peloria as reversions. lindley, john ( - ): was born at catton, near norwich. his first appointment was that of assistant librarian to sir joseph banks. he was afterwards assistant secretary to the horticultural society, and during his tenure of that office he organised the first fruit and flower shows held in this country. in he was chosen to be the first professor of botany at university college, london, and a few years later he became lecturer to the apothecaries' company. he is the author of a large number of botanical books, of which the best known is the "vegetable kingdom," . he was one of the founders of the "gardeners' chronicle," and was its principal editor up to the time of his death. he was endowed with great powers of work and remarkable energy. he is said as a young man to have translated richard's "analyse du fruit" in a single sitting of three nights and two days. (from the article on lindley in the "dictionary of national biography," which is founded on the "gardeners' chronicle," , pages , .) -hooker's eloge of. -and royal medal. -"vegetable kingdom" by. -on acropera and gongora. -darwin on his classification of orchids. -letters to. -on melastomaceae. -on orchids. -hooker reviews darwin's orchid book in style of. -mentioned. lingula, persistence of. -silurian species. link, on alpine and arctic plants. linnaeus. linnean society, bentham's address. -collier's picture of darwin in rooms of. -darwin's paper on linum. -darwin advises bates to give his views on species before. -wallace's paper on the malayan papilionidae. linnet, a migratory bird. linope, e. hackel on. linum, darwin's work on. -dimorphism of. -interaction of pollen and stigma. -mucus in seeds of. linum flavum. -l. grandiflorum, two forms of. -l. lewisii, experiments on. -l. trigynum. -l. usitatissimum, circumnutation of. lister, lord, on spines of hedgehog. listera, fertilisation of. -l. cordata, fertilisation of. -l. ovata, fertilisation of. litchfield, mrs. (see darwin, henrietta). -criticism of huxley. littoral shells, glacial period and. liverpool, british association meeting at ( ). livingstone, d., on the distribution of thorny plants. lobelia, darwin's experiments on. -fertilisation mechanism of. -fertility of. -l. fulgens, scott's experiments on. lochaber, parallel roads of (see also glen roy). -evidence of ice-action. lochs, laggan (loggan), ice-action in. -roy, darwin disbelieves in existence of. -spey, shelves of. -treig, ice-action in. -milne's account of. locust grass, germination of. locusts, blown out to sea. -plants from dung of. logwood, leaf-movement of. -see haematoxylon. loiseleuria procumbens. london clay, supposed germination of seeds from. "london review," darwin's opinion of. -correspondence between owen and editor in reference to "origin." longchamps, l. de, on crossing in gramineae. longevity, darwin on animals' and man's. lonsdale, william ( - ): obtained a commission in the th regiment at the age of sixteen, and served at salamanca and waterloo. from to he held the office of assistant-secretary and curator of the geological society. mr. lonsdale contributed important papers on the devonian system, the oolitic rocks, and on palaeontological subjects. ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xxviii., page xxxv., .) -mentioned. lopezia, fertilisation of. lophura viellottii, colour of. loss, nature of. love, evidence of existence low in scale. loven, s.l.: published numerous papers on cirripedes and other zoological subjects in the stockholm "ofversigt" and elsewhere between and . -translation of paper on cirripedes. -mentioned. lowe, r.t., on madeira. lowell, prof., on custom in italy of shaking head in affirmation. lowland plants, ascending mountains. lowne, b.t., on anatomy of blowfly. lowness and highness. lubbock, lady. lubbock, sir j., see lord avebury. lucas, dr. p., on tendency to vary independent of conditions. ludwig, f., letter to. lumbricus (see also earthworms). luminosity in animals. -result of external conditions. lupinus, darwin's experiments on. luzula. lychnis dioica, structure of flower. -sets seed without pollen. lycopodium, variation in. lyell, sir charles, bart., f.r.s. ( - ): was born at kinnordy, the family home in central forfarshire. at the age of seventeen he entered at exeter college, oxford, and afterwards obtained a second class in the final honours school in classics. as an undergraduate lyell attended prof. buckland's lectures on geology. on leaving oxford lyell was entered at lincoln's inn; a weakness of the eyes soon compelled him to give up reading, and he travelled abroad, finding many opportunities for field work. he was called to the bar in , and in the same year published some papers on geological subjects. from - lyell filled the post of secretary to the geological society, and in was elected into the royal society. in the first volume of the "principles of geology" was published; the second volume appeared two years later. speaking of this greatest of lyell's services to geology, huxley writes: "i have recently read afresh the first edition of the "principles of geology," and when i consider that this remarkable book had been nearly thirty years in everybody's hands [in ], and that it brings home to any reader of ordinary intelligence a great principle and a great fact-- the principle that the past must be explained by the present, unless good cause be shown to the contrary; and the fact that, so far as our knowledge of the past history of life on our globe goes, no such cause can be shown--i cannot but believe that lyell, for others, as for myself, was the chief agent in smoothing the road for darwin" (huxley's "life and letters," volume ii., page ). as professor of geology in king's college, london, lyell delivered two courses of lectures in - ; in the latter year he received a royal medal, and in he was the recipient of the copley medal of the royal society. the "elements of geology" was published in ; this work is still used as a text-book, a new edition having been lately ( ) brought out by prof. judd; in and in appeared the "travels in north america" and "a second visit to the united states of north america." the "antiquity of man" was published in . lyell was knighted in , and in was raised to the rank of a baronet. he was buried in westminster abbey. darwin wrote in his autobiography: "the science of geology is enormously indebted to lyell, more so, as i believe, than to any other man who ever lived" ("life and letters," volume i., page ). in a letter to lyell-- november rd, --darwin wrote: "i rejoice profoundly that you intend admitting the doctrine of modification in your new edition [a new edition of the "manual" published in ]; nothing, i am convinced, could be more important for its success. i honour you most sincerely. to have maintained, in the position of a master, one side of a question for thirty years, and then deliberately give it up, is a fact to which i much doubt whether the records of science offer a parallel" ("life and letters," volume ii., pages - ). see "life, letters, and journals of sir charles lyell, bart." edited by his sister-in-law, mrs. lyell, volumes, london, . "charles lyell and modern geology," prof. t.g. bonney, london, .) -"antiquity of man." -on barrande. -cautious attitude towards "origin of species." -cautious judgment of. -on cetacea. -copley medal awarded to. -on continental extension. -controversy with owen. -darwin's pleasure in reading his "geology." -on distribution. -falconer and. -german opinion of. -on immutability. -interest in celts. -letters to. -letters to darwin from. -map of tertiary geography by. -on mutability. -on pangenesis. -"principles of geology." -on ramsay's theory of lakes. -urges darwin to publish his views with those of wallace. -visits down. -work in france. -address to geological society. -attacked by owen in his "anatomy of vertebrata." -criticism of murchison. -on craters of denudation. -darwin's indebtedness to. -death of. -death of his father. -gives up opposition to evolution. -on glaciers of forfarshire. -on glacial period in s. hemisphere. -versus herschel on volcanic islands. -on iceberg action. -memorial in westminster abbey. -on parallel roads of glen roy. -as founder of school of geology. -second visit to the united states. -trip to wales. -mentioned. lyell, lady, letter to. -translation of paper for darwin. -visits down. -mentioned. lynch, r.i. lythraceae, dimorphism in. lythrum, cross-fertilisation of. -darwin's work on. -trimorphism of. -l. hyssopifolium, range of. -l. salicaria, dimorphism of. -darwin's work on. macacas, owen on. -m. silenus, mane as a protection. macalister, prof. a. macarthur, sir w., on erythrina. macaw, beauty of plumage. mcclennan, on primitive man. macculloch, on glen turret. -on metamorphic rocks. -on parallel roads of glen roy. m'donnell, darwin on work of. macgillivray, reference to his "history of british birds." machetes pugnax, polygamy of. mackintosh, daniel ( - ): was well-known in the south of england as a lecturer on scientific subjects. he contributed several papers to the geological society on surface sculpture, denudation, drift deposits, etc. in he published a work "on the scenery of england and wales" (see "geol. mag." , page . -on boulders of ashley heath. -letters to. -on moel tryfan. -on sources of erratic blocks in england. mcnab, prof., j. scott and. -mentioned. macrauchenia, skull of. madagascar, existence of insects capable of fertilising angraecum in. -fossil hippopotamus of. -owen on fauna of. -plants of. -former extension of. -as a geographical region. -viola of. madeira, birds of. -british plants compared with those of. -canary islands formerly connected with. -flora of. -insects of. -land-extension, of. -land-shells of. -lowe on. -tertiary plants of. -elevation of. maer, the home of the wedgwoods. magellan straits, h.m.s. "beagle" in. magnus, review by krause of his work on colour. magpies, pairing of. mahon, lord, compliment to darwin. mahonia, natural crossing of. maillet, evolutionary views of. maize, hybrids of, see also zea. malaxeae, and epidendreae. malaxis, course of vessels in flower. -fertilisation of. malaxis paludosa, epiphytic on sphagnum. malay archipelago, darwin on wallace's book on. -translation by meyer of wallace's book. malay region, glacial epoch and the. -wallace on butterflies and pigeons of. malpighiaceae, degraded flowers of. -erythroxylon included in. malta, forbes on geology of. malthus, darwin derives help from reading. -haughton sneers at. -misunderstood. malva. mammae, as rudimentary organs in man. mammals, alteration in skulls of. -australian cave-. -birds compared with. -dana's classification. -distribution. -as indices of climatic changes. -as proof of union between england and continent since glacial period. -waterhouse's "natural history" of. -glacial period and extinction of. -origin and migration. mammoth (bog). mammoth, darwin's eagerness to collect bones of. -falconer on the. man, antiquity of (see "antiquity of man," and lyell, sir c.). -and apes. -brain of. -criticism of lyell's chapter on. -huxley's book on. -mcclennan on primitive. -and natural selection. -origin of. -races of. -selection by nature contrasted with selection by. -slow progress of. -darwin on wallace's paper on. -descent of. -ears of. -geological age of. -and geological classification. -hairyness of. -introduction of. -rank in classification. -turner on evolution of. -wallace on evolution of. mankind, descent from single pair. -early history of. -progress of. mantell, owen's attack on. "manual of scientific inquiry," darwin's. manx cats. maranta, sleep-movements of. marble, macculloch on metamorphism of. marianne islands, subsidence of. -want of knowledge of flora. marion, "l'evolution du regne vegetal," by saporta and. marlatt, c.l., on cicada. marquesas islands, subsidence of. marr, j.e., on the rocks of bohemia. -mentioned. marriage, darwin on. -galton's proposal to issue health-certificates for. marshall, w., on elodea. marsupialia, compared with placentata. -darwin on nature of. -evidence of antiquity. -abundance in secondary period. martens, see martins. martha (=posoqueria), f. muller's paper on. martin, h.n., darwin's opinion of "elementary biology" by huxley and. martins, experiments on immersion of seeds in sea by. maruta cotula of n. america. masdevallia, darwin's work on. massart, on regeneration after injury. masters, m., letters to. -lecture at royal institution. -"vegetable teratology." mastodon, australian. -extinction of. -falconer on. -in timor. -migration into s. america. -skeleton found by darwin. -m. andium, falconer on intermediate character of. "materialism of the present day," janet's. matteucci on electric fishes. matthew, p., on forest trees in scotland. -quoted by darwin as having enunciated principle of natural selection before "origin." maurienne, note on earthquake in province of. mauritius, craters of. -elevation of. -extinction of snakes of. -oceanic character of. maury's map, as illustrating continental extension. maxillaria. maypu river, darwin visits. mays, j.a., publishes lectures by huxley. medals: -(copley), darwin, lyell. -(royal). -(wollaston), darwin. medical department of army, statistics from director-general of. meditation, expression of eyes in. mediterranean islands, flora of. medusae, romanes' work on. meehan, t., letter to. megalonyx. megatherium, darwin collects bones of. -sir a. carlisle on. melastoma, darwin on. melastomaceae, darwin on. -crossing in. -two kinds of stamens in. meldola, prof. raphael f.r.s.: professor of chemistry in finsbury technical college (city and guilds of london institute), and a well- known entomologist; translated and edited weismann's "studies in the theory of descent," - . -address to entomological society. -letters to. -translation of weismann's "studies in descent" by. -on weismann and darwin. -mentioned. melipona. meloe, lord avebury on. melrose, seeds from sandpit near. memorial to the chancellor of the exchequer. mendel, g., w. bateson on his "principles of heredity." -darwin ignorant of work of. -laxton and. mendoza, darwin visits. "mental evolution in animals," romanes'. mentha, of n. america. -m. borealis, variety in n. america. menura superba, colour and nests of. menzies and cumming, visit galapagos islands. mercurialis. mertensia, darwin's experiments on. mesembryanthemum. mesotherium, falconer on. metamorphic schists. metamorphism, darwin on. -heat and. -sorby on. metamorphosis, lord avebury on insects and. -f. muller on. -quatrefages on. meteorites, lord kelvin suggests their agency in introduction of plants. "methods of study," agassiz' book on. mexicans, explanation of natural affinities of chinese and. meyen, on insectivorous plants. meyer, dr., translator of wallace's "malay archipelago." meyer and doege, on plants of cape of good hope. mica, in foliated rocks. mica-slate, clay-slate and. mice, ears of. -experiments by tait on. microscope, darwin on convenient form of. -indispensable in work on flowers. -use of compound without simple, injurious to progress of natural history. migration of animals and plants. -darwin on plant-. -of elephants. -glacial period and. -of plants. -in tropics. -of birds. mikania, a leaf-climber. -m. scandens, gradation between mutisia and. mill, j.s., on darwin's reasoning. -on greatest happiness principle. miller, hugh, "first impressions of england and its people." miller, s.h., "fenland past and present" by skertchley and. miller, prof. william hallowes, f.r.s. ( - ), held the chair of mineralogy at cambridge from to (see "obituary notices of fellows," "proc. r. soc." volume xxxi., ). he is referred to in the "origin of species" (edition vi., page ) as having verified darwin's statement as to the structure of the comb made by melipona domestica, a mexican species of bee. the cells of melipona occupy an intermediate position between the perfect cells of the hive-bee and the much simpler ones of the humble-bee; the comb consists "of cylindrical cells in which the young are hatched, and, in addition, some large cells of wax for holding honey. these latter cells are nearly spherical and of nearly equal sizes, and are aggregated into an irregular mass. but the important point to notice is that these cells are always made at that degree of nearness to each other that they would have intersected or broken into each other if the spheres had been completed; but this is never permitted, the bees building perfectly flat walls of wax between the spheres which thus tend to intersect." it occurred to darwin that certain changes in the architecture of the melipona comb would produce a structure "as perfect as the comb of the hive-bee." he made a calculation, therefore, to show how this structural improvement might be effected, and submitted the statement to professor miller. by a slight modification of the instincts possessed by melipona domestica, this bee would be able to build with as much mathematical accuracy as the hive-bee; and by such modifications of instincts darwin believed that "the hive-bee has acquired, through natural selection, her inimitable architectural powers" (loc. cit., page ). -letters to. million years, darwin on meaning of a. milne-edwards, darwin's cirripede work and. -darwin's opinion of. -on retrograde development. milne-home, david ( - ): was a country gentleman in berwickshire who became interested in geology at an early age. he wrote on the midlothian coal-field, the geology of roxburghshire, the parallel roads of glen roy, and compiled the reports presented by a committee appointed by the royal society of edinburgh to investigate the observation and registration of boulders in scotland ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xlvii., ; "proc." page ). -believes in connection between state of weather and earthquakes. -on glen roy. -letters to. -letter from r. chambers to. -on oscillation of sea. milton, quotation from. mimicry, bates on. -and dimorphism. -volucella as an example of. -wallace on. -and colour. -f. muller on lepidoptera and. mimosa, darwin's experiments on. -m. albida, darwin on. -m. sensitiva. mimoseae, f. muller's account of seeds of. mimulus, pfeffer on movement of stigma. mind, development of. -evolution of. -influence on nutrition. miocene land. miquel, f.a.w., on flora of holland. -on distribution of the beech. -on flora of japan. -mentioned. mirabilis. mirbel, g.f.b. de. miscellaneous letters, botanical. -geological. miscellaneous subjects, letters on. mississippi, lyell on pampas and deposits of the. mitchella. mivart, st. george f.r.s. ( - ): was educated at harrow, king's college, london, and st. mary's college, oscott. he was called to the bar in ; in he was appointed lecturer in the medical school of st. mary's hospital. in the "genesis of species," published in , mivart expressed his belief in the guiding action of divine power as a factor in evolution. -false reasoning of. -"genesis of species." modification, darwin's disbelief in sudden. -explanation of. -of insects. -of jays and crows. -of land and freshwater faunas. -selection and. -of species. -walsh on specific. moel tryfan, darwin on shells on. -mackintosh on shells on. moggridge, j. traherne ( - ): is described by a writer in "nature" volume xi., , page , as "one of our most promising young naturalists." he published a work on "harvesting ants and trap-door spiders," london, , and wrote on the flora of mentone and on other subjects. (see "the descent of man" volume i., edition ii., page , .) -letters to. -note on. -experiments on ants and seeds. mohl, von, on climbing plants. mojsisovics, e. von: vice-director of the imperial geological institute, vienna. -letters to. -work on palaeontology and evolution. molecular movement in foliated rocks. moller, "brasilische pilzblumen." molliard, on les cecidies florales. mollusca, distribution by birds. -huxley on. -means of dispersal of. -morse on protective colours of. -wallace on distribution of. molothrus, occurrence in brazil. monacanthus viridis, female form of catasetum tridentatum. monkeys, distribution of birds affected by. -range of. -ears of. -mane as protection. -wrinkling of eyes during screaming. monochaetum (monochoetum), absence of nectar in. -experiments on. -flowers of. -neglected by bees. -seeds of. -m. ensiferum, two kinds of stamens. monocotyledons, range of. -heterostylism in. monotremes, birds compared with. -as remnant of ancient fauna. monotropa uniflora, in new granada. -in himalayas. -in separate areas in u.s.a. monotypic genera, variation of. monstrosities, harvey on. -masters' work on. -no sharp distinction between slight variations and. -origin of species from. -variations and. monte video, darwin visits. -darwin on cleavage at. moon, effect on earthquakes. moraines, glacial. moral sense, j. morley on darwin's treatment of. morality, foundation of. more, alexander goodman ( - ): botanist and zoologist, distinguished chiefly by his researches on the distribution of irish plants and animals. he was born in london, and was educated at rugby and trinity college, cambridge. he became assistant in the natural history museum at dublin in , and curator in . he was forced by ill-health to resign his post in , and died in . he is best known for the cybele hibernica and for various papers published in the "ibis." he was also the author of "outlines of the natural history of the isle of wight," of a "supplement to the flora vectensis," and innumerable shorter papers. his "life and letters" has been edited by mr. c.b. moffat, with a preface by miss frances more ( ). there is a good obituary notice by mr. r. barrington in the "irish naturalist," may, . -letters to. morgan. morley, j., letters to. mormodes, labellum of. -m. ignea, flower of. morphological, hooker's criticism of term. -sense in which used by nageli. morphology, darwin's explanation of. -kollmann on batrachian. -of plants. morse, prof. e.s.: of salem, mass. -letters to. -on shell-mounds of omori. morton, lord, his mare. moscow, opinion on darwin's work from. moseley, canon h., on glacier-motion. moseley, prof. henry nottidge f.r.s. ( - ): was an undergraduate of exeter college, oxford, and afterwards studied medicine at university college, london. in he was appointed one of the naturalists on the scientific staff of the "challenger," and in succeeded his friend and teacher, professor rolleston, as linacre professor of human and comparative anatomy at oxford. moseley's "notes by a naturalist on the challenger," london, , was held in high estimation by darwin, to whom it was dedicated. (see "life and letters," iii., pages - .) -letter to. -proposal to examine kerguelen coal beds. moss-rose, sudden variation in. mostyn, lord, horse and quagga belonging to. moths, hermaphroditism in hybrid. -survival of distinct races. -colours of. -and sexual selection. mould, darwin's opinion of his paper on. mountain-building, rogers on. mountain-chains, darwin on. -and earthquakes. -and elevation. -false views of geologists on. -hopkins on. -volcanic rocks in. movement, of land-areas. -of plants, darwin on. -f. muller on. -wiesner on darwin's book on. mucus of seeds, significance of. mukkul, pass of. mules, meaning of stripes of. -j.j. weir's observations on. muller, ferd., on advance of european plants in australia. muller, (fritz) dr. johann friedrich theodor ( - ): was born in thuringia, and left his native country at the age of thirty to take up his residence at blumenau, sta catharina, south brazil, where he was appointed teacher of mathematics at the gymnasium of desterro. he afterwards held a natural history post, from which he was dismissed by the brazilian government in on the ground of his refusal to take up his residence at rio de janeiro ("nature," december th, , page ). muller published a large number of papers on zoological and botanical subjects, and rendered admirable service to the cause of evolution by his unrivalled powers of observation and by the publication of a work entitled "fur darwin" ( ), which was translated by dallas under the title "facts and arguments for darwin" (london, ). the long series of letters between darwin and muller bear testimony to the friendship and esteem which darwin felt for his co-worker in brazil. in a letter to dr. hermann muller (march th, ), mr. darwin wrote: "i sent you a few days ago a paper on climbing plants by your brother, and i then knew for the first time that fritz muller was your brother. i feel the greatest respect for him as one of the most able naturalists living, and he has aided me in many ways with extraordinary kindness." see "life and letters," iii., page ; "nature," october th, , volume lvi., page . -book by. -convert to darwin's views. -darwin's opinion of his book. -friendship with darwin. -hooker on. -letters to. -on lord morton's mare. -on mutual specialisation of insects and plants. -on prawns. -reference to letter from. -on sponges. -on cassia and caterpillars in s. brazil. -on climbing plants. -on crossing plants. -darwin offers to make good loss by flood. -darwin's admiration of. -on darwin's work on lepidoptera. -darwin urges him to write natural history book. -explanation of two kinds of stamens in flowers. -on fertilisation mechanisms. -letter to darwin from. -narrow escape from flood. -article in "kosmos" on phyllanthus. -on melastomaceae. -on orchids. -on stripes and spots in animals. -on termites. -disinclined to publish. -mentioned. muller, hermann ( - ): began his education in the village school of muhlberg, and afterwards studied in halle and berlin. from an early age he was a keen naturalist, and began his scientific work as a collector in the field. in he became science teacher at lippstadt, where he continued to work during the last twenty-eight years of his life. muller's greatest contribution to botany "die befruchtung der blumen durch insekten," was the outcome to charles darwin's book on the "fertilisation of orchids." he was a frequent contributor to "kosmos" on subjects bearing on the origin of species, the laws of variation, and kindred problems; like his brother, fritz, hermann muller was a zealous supporter of evolutionary views, and contributed in no small degree to the spread of the new teaching. ("prof. dr. hermann muller von lippstadt: ein gedenkblatt," by ernst krause, "kosmos," volume vii., page , .) -extract from letter to. -darwin's admiration for his book. -on fertilisation of flowers. -on clover and bees. -on epipactis and platanthera. -extract from darwin's preface to his "befruchtung der blumen." -letters to. -on melastoma. -persecuted by ultramontane party. -review in "kosmos" of "forms of flowers." -mentioned. muller, prof. max, "lectures on the science of language." -letter to. muller, rosa, observations on circumnutation. mummy wheat. mundane cold period, darwin on supposed. mundane genera, distribution of. munro, col., on bermuda. munro, on eyes of parrots. murchison, sir r.i., apotheosis of. -darwin's conversations with. -letter to. -address to geological society. -on structure of alps. -lyell's criticism of. murder, expression of man arrested for. murdoch, g.b., letter to. murray, a., address to botanical society of edinburgh. -criticism of wallace's theory of nests. -darwin criticised by. -darwin's criticism of work of. -on geological distribution of mammals. -on leaves and co . -review of "origin" by. -mentioned. murray, sir j., darwin on his theory of coral reefs. murray, j., darwin's agreement with. -"journal of researches" published by. -ms. of "origin" sent to. -sale of "origin." -publication of "fur darwin." mus, range of. musca vomitoria, lowne on. muscles, contraction in evacuation and in labour pains. -in man and apes. museum (british), enquiry as to disposal of natural history collections by trustees of. music, birds and production of. -insects, and. -origin of taste for. musk-duck, hatching of eggs. musk-orchids, pollinia of. musk ox, as index of climate. -found in gravel at down. mussels, seize hold of fishing hooks. mutability of species, lyell on. mutation, use of term. mutisia, a tendril-climber, compared with mikania. myanthus barbatus, hermaphrodite form of catasetum tridentatum. mylodon. myosotis, in n. america. myosurus, range of. mytilus, as fossil in the andes. nageli, carl wilhelm von ( - ): was born at kilchberg, near zurich. he graduated at zurich with a dissertation on the swiss species of cirsium. at jena he came under the influence of schleiden, who taught him microscopic work. he married in , and on his wedding journey in england, collected seaweeds for "die neueren algen-systeme." he was called as professor to freiburg im breisgau in ; and to munich in , where he remained until his death on may th, . in the "zeitschrift fur wiss. botanik," - , edited by nageli and schleiden, and of which only a single volume appeared, nageli insists on the only sound basis for classification being "development as a whole." the "entstehung und begriff" ( ) was his first real evolutionary paper. he believed in a tendency of organisms to vary towards perfection. his idea was that the causes of variability are internal to the organism: see his work, "ueber den einfluss ausserer verhaltnisse auf die varietatenbildung. among his other writings are the "theorie der bastardbildung," , and "die mechanisch-physiologische theorie der abstammungslehre," . the chief idea of the latter book is the existence of idioplasm, a part of protoplasm serving for hereditary transmission. (from dr. d.h. scott's article in "nature," october th, , page .) -darwin on his work. -essay on natural selection. -on hieracium. -"ueber entstehung und begriff der naturhistoriscehn art." -weismann on work of. -on arrangement of leaves. -criticism of darwin. -on innate principle of development. -on physiological nature of useful adaptations in plants. napier, rt. hon. j.r., speech at british association ( ) on darwin's work. naravelia. narborough, sir j., description of w. coast of s. america by. nascent organs, rudimentary and. -wing of apteryx as. natural classification. "natural conditions of existence," semper's. natural history, darwin's taste for. -darwin's contributions to. -accuracy the soul of. -darwin urges f. muller to write book on. natural history collections, enquiry as to disposal by british museum trustees of. "natural history review," lord avebury on walsh's paper on dimorphism. -bentham in the. -darwin's opinion of. -darwin reviews bates in. -falconer in the. -founding of. -huxley and. "natural inheritance," galton's. natural preservation, as substitute for natural selection. "natural science," a.s. woodward on neomylodon in. natural selection, accumulation of varieties by. -and adaptation in orchids. -allen on slowness of action. -angraecum in relation to. -ansted on. -applied to politics. -and artificial. -bates' belief in. -bronn on. -comparison with architecture. -with force and matter. -with laws of gravity. -conservative influence of. -cope's and hyatt's views on. -darwin accused of making too much of a deus of. -darwin's anxiety not to overestimate effect of. -darwin lays stress on importance of. -darwin on use of term. -deification of. -and direct action. -eocene or secondary organisms would be beaten in competition with recent on theory of. -and external conditions. -falconer on. -and fertility. -asa gray on. -harvey misunderstands darwin's meaning. -haughton partially admits. -hooker thinks darwin probably rides too hard his hobby of. -hooker on supposed falling off in belief in. -hooker and bates believe in. -huxley's belief in. -huxley gives in a lecture inadequate idea of. -hyatt and cope on. -importance of. -lamont on. -lyell on. -and monstrosities. -nageli's essay on. -no limit to perfection of co-adaptations produced by. -non-acceptance of. -objections to. -"plants are splendid for making one believe in." -possibility of race of bears being rendered aquatic through. -with the principle of divergence the keystone of "origin." -production of thorns through. -tends to progression of organisation. -providential arrangement and superfluity of. -struggle between reversion, variability and. -scott on. -slowness of action. -and sterility. -success of. -tails of mice a difficulty as regards. -sir w. thomson's misconception of. -uses of. -value of. -and variation. -variation of species sufficient for selection and accumulation of new specific characters by. -and useful characters. -wallace on. -watson on. -applied to man and brutes. -australian savages and. -beauty and. -darwin on action of. -darwin's historical sketch in "origin" of. -difficulties of. -donders nearly preceded darwin in views on. -evolution of man from point of view of. -owen's attitude towards. -primogeniture destructive of. -sexual selection less powerful than. -wallace attributes theory entirely to darwin. -wallace on brain and. naturalisation, of european plants. -of plants in india. -of plants in islands. naturalised plants, bentham on. -comparison of variability of indigenous and. -de candolle on. -variability of. -fewness of american species of, in britain. "naturalist in nicaragua," belt's. -belt's account of honey-glands of plants in. "naturalist on the amazons," bates'. -darwin's opinion of. naturalists, views on species held by. -few care for philosophical experiments nature, wallace on personification of. -use of term. "nature not lying," principle of. "nature," darwin's opinion of. -letters or notes from darwin in. -galton in. -f. muller in. -thiselton-dyer in. naudin, c., on hybridism. -on melastomaceae. nauplius stages. nautilus, of silurian age. necrophorus, darwin's observations on. nectar, in leguminous flowers. -lord farrer on secretion of, in coronilla. nectaries, belt on extra-floral. nectarines and peaches. -rivers on production from seed. -variation in. negative geological evidence, darwin and lyell on. negro, resemblance between expression of cebus and. nelumbium, as example of transport. neottia nidus-avis, fertilisation mechanism. -pollen-tubes of. nepenthes, hooker's work on. -thiselton-dyer on. neptunia. nervous system, genesis of. -influence on nutrition. nests, wallace's theory, of. -colour in relation to. -instinct in making. neumann, on catasetum. neumayr, melchior ( - ): passed his early life at stuttgart, and entered the university of munich in with the object of studying law, but he soon gave up legal studies for geology and palaeontology. in he was recalled from heidelberg, where he held a post as privatdocent, to occupy the newly created chair of palaeontology in vienna. dr. neumayr was a successful and popular writer, as well as "one of the best and most scientific palaeontologists"; he was an enthusiastic supporter of darwin's views, and he devoted himself "to tracing through the life of former times the same law of evolution as darwin inferred from that of the existing world." (see obit. notice, by dr. w.t. blanford, "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xlvi., page , .) -essay on descent theory. -services to geology. -"die stamme des thierreichs." nevill, lady dorothy. new zealand, absence of leguminosae opposed to continental extension of. -british plants in. -clover never seeded before introduction of bees. -comparison between flora of tasmania and. -elevation of mountains in. -flora of. -flora of australia and. -flora of raoul island and. -hooker on flora of. -darwin's opinion of hooker's "flora." -former connection of islands. -former extension of. -naturalised plants. -peopling of mountains by plants. -proportion of annuals. -species of plants common to america, chili and. -stocked from antarctic land. -colonising of. -glacial action in. -mountain-rat of. -trees of. newton, prof. a., note on strickland by. -description of partridge as agent in dispersal of seeds. newton's law of gravity. niagara, darwin on lyell's work on. nightingale, gould on the. noises, observations on children's. nolana prostrata, darwin's experiments on. nomenclature, discussion on. "north british review," fleeming jenkin's review in. -tait in. norton, professor charles elliot: of harvard, the son of the late dr. andrews norton, professor of theology in the harvard divinity school. -visits down. norway, von buch's travels in. -blytt on flora of. norwich, berkeley's address at british association ( ) meeting at. -hooker's address. nottingham, british association meeting ( ) at. -hooker's lecture on insular floras at. notylia, f. muller on. nucula, a persistent type. nuneham, darwin's recollection of trip to. nutrition, influence of mind on. nyctitropic movements, see sleep-movements. observation, spirit of astronomers in. -harder work than generalisation. -pleasure of. observations, not to be trusted without repetition. observer, a good theoriser makes a good. oceanic islands, difference in floras and means of stocking. -connection between continents and. -former extension of. -reade on. -volcanic nature of. oceans, age and depth of. -permanence of. -as sinking areas. ogle, w., on the sense of smell. -letter to. -translation of book by kerner. ogleby, reference to his nomenclature scheme. oken, on lepas. -owen on. old characters, reappearance of. oldenburgia. oldenlandia. olfers. oliver, d., darwin indebted to for information. -letters to. -mentioned. olyra, sleep-movements of. omori, morse on shell-mounds of. oncidium, j. scott's work on. -structure of labellum. -o. flexuosum, observations by muller and scott on. -self-sterility of. -o. sphacelatum, scott on fertilisation of. ophrys. -o. apifera, fertilisation-mechanism. -self-fertilisation of. -o. arachnites, fertilisation of. -habitat. -o. aranifera. -o. morio, fertilisation of. -o. muscifera, lord farrer's observations on. -o. scolopax. opossums. oppel, service to geology. -mentioned. opuntia, henslow describes new species from galapagos. orang-utang, rolleston on brain of. -wallace on. orange trees, grafting of. d'orbigny, on geology of s. america. -theory of formation of pampas mud. -"voyage dans l'amerique meridionale. -mentioned. orchids, adaptation in. -darwin's work on. -darwin's view that seedlings are parasitic on cryptogams. -falconer's estimate of darwin's work on. -few species in humid temperate regions. -flourish in cool temperate regions. -illustrate diversity of means to same end. -monstrous. -quoted as argument against species arising from monstrosities. -utility and. -fertilisation mechanisms of. -brazilian. -darwin decides to publish his work in book-form. -darwin sends copy of his book to f. muller. -darwin underrates power of producing seeds without insects. -french translation of darwin's book. -germinative power of pollen. -hildebrand's paper on. -nectar not excreted in some english. -and nectar secretion. -formation of ovule after pollination. -scott points out error in darwin's work. -scott on pollen-tubes of. -scott on self-sterility. -self-fertilisation in. -setting of seed in unopened flower. -sterility of. -course of vessels in flowers. -wonderful contrivances intelligible. orchis, flowers of. -nectaries of. -pollinia of. orchis (bee) (see also ophrys apifera), darwin's experiments on. -o. pyramidalis, fertilisation mechanism. -o. ustulata. order of nature. ordination. organ mountains, darwin on plants of. -glacial action on. organisms, simultaneous change in. -amount of change in fresh water and marine. organs, transition of -use of. "origin of the fittest," cope's. "origin of genera," cope's work on. origin of life. "origin of species," acceptance of doctrine of evolution due to the. -darwin's belief in the permanence of the framework of the. -darwin's opinion of his book. -dawson's review of. -direct action underestimated in the. -editions of the. -errors in. -falconer's estimate of. -huxley's cambridge speech, and reference to the. -huxley's lecture on coming of age of. -huxley's review of. -lesquereux's articles in "silliman" against the. -publication of the abstract of. -publication by murray of. -sale of the. -seemann on the. -translation of. -wallace's criticism of. -walsh on the. -darwin on necessity for modifications in the. -review by fleeming jenkin. -review by a. murray. -owen's criticism of darwin's historical sketch in th edition of. -owen's review of. -study of natural history revolutionised by the. -valueless criticism on. origin of species, darwin's early views on. -darwin's views on. -falconer antagonistic to darwin's views on. -oxford discussion (british association, ) on the. -spread of darwin's views in america. origin of species and genera, wallace in the "nineteenth century" on. original work, time taken up by, at expense of reading. ormerod's index to the geological society's journal. ornithorhynchus, aberrant nature of. -preservation of. orthoptera, auditory organs of. oscillariae, abundance in the ocean. oscillataria. oscillation of land, darwin's views on. os coccyx, as rudimentary organ. ostrea. ostrich, modification of wings. outliers, plants as. "outlines of cosmic philosophy," fiske's. ovary, abnormal structure in orchid. owen, sir richard ( - ): was born at lancaster, and educated at the local grammar school, where one of his schoolfellows was william whewell, afterwards master of trinity. he was subsequently apprenticed to a surgeon and apothecary, and became deeply interested in the study of anatomy. he continued his medical training in edinburgh and at st. bartholomew's hospital in london. in owen became assistant to william clift (whose daughter owen married in ), conservator to the hunterian museum of the royal college of surgeons. it was here that he became acquainted with cuvier, at whose invitation he visited paris, and attended his lectures and those of geoffroy st. hilaire. the publication, in , of the "memoir on the pearly nautilus" placed the author "in the front rank of anatomical monographers." on clift's retirement, owen became sole conservator to the hunterian museum, and was made first hunterian professor of comparative anatomy and physiology at the royal college of surgeons. in he accepted the post of superintendent of the natural history department of the british museum, and shortly after his appointment he strongly urged the establishment of a national museum of natural history, a project which was eventually carried into effect in . in he was gazetted k.c.b. owen was a strong opponent of darwin's views, and contributed a bitter and anonymous article on the "origin of species" to the "edinburgh review" of . the position of owen in the history of anatomical science has been dealt with by huxley in an essay incorporated in the "life of richard owen," by his grandson, the rev. richard owen ( volumes, london, ). huxley pays a high tribute to owen's industry and ability: "during more than half a century owen's industry remained unabated; and whether we consider the quality or the quantity of the work done, or the wide range of his labours, i doubt if, in the long annals of anatomy, more is to be placed to the credit of any single worker." the record of his work is "enough, and more than enough, to justify the high place in the scientific world which owen so long occupied. if i mistake not, the historian of comparative anatomy and palaeontology will always assign to owen a place next to, and hardly lower than, that of cuvier, who was practically the creator of those sciences in their modern shape, and whose works must always remain models of excellence in their kind." on the other hand, owen's contributions to philosophical anatomy are on a much lower plane; hardly any of his speculations in this field have stood the test of investigation: "...i am not sure that any one but the historian of anatomical science is ever likely to recur to them, and considering owen's great capacity, extensive learning, and tireless industry, that seems a singular result of years of strenuous labour." -address at leeds (british association, ) by. -admission of descent of species. -articles by. -on a badger of pliocene age. -on the brain. -mrs. carlyle's impression of. -and hooker. -conduct towards huxley. -darwin abused by. -on darwin and maillet. -and darwinism. -on ephemeral influence of the "origin." -falconer and. -huxley on. -on huxley's election to the athenaeum. -ignores darwin's work. -influence of. -isolation among scientific men. -lecture on birds by. -letters to. -letter to the "athenaeum." -"life of." -on lowness of animals. -on macacus. -on mammals of old world. -on morphology of vertebrata. -review in the "quarterly" of the "origin." -"palaeontology" by. -on parthenogenesis. -review in the "edinburgh review" by. -on simple and multiple organs. -on use and disuse. -and bishop wilberforce's review. -visits down. -attack on darwin in his "anatomy of vertebrata." -attitude towards natural selection. -mentioned. owls and hawks, as agents in seed-dispersal. oxalis, bulbils of. -cleistogamic flowers of. -dimorphism of. -pollen-tubes of. -seeds of. -trimorphism of. -o. acetosella, sensitive leaves of. -variation in length of pistil and stamens. -o. sensitiva, darwin's work on. -o. corniculata, variation of. oxford, meeting of the british association at ( ). -tuckwell's reminiscences of. oxlips, darwin's experiment on cowslips, primroses, and. -darwin on hybrid character of. -scarcity of. oxyspora paniculata, wallich on. pachira, inequality of cotyledons. -p. aquatica. pacific ocean, darwin wishes hooker to investigate floras of. -islands of the. -coral reefs of. packard's "lamarck the founder of evolution." paget, sir j., on regeneration. -address on elemental pathology. -illness of. -on influence of mind on nutrition. -"lectures on surgical pathology." -letters to. -mentioned. pairing, in birds. -vigour of birds and effect on time of. palaeolithic flints, in gravels near southampton. palaeontology, rapid progress of. palaeozoic period. paley, idea of interference of creator in construction of each species due to. "pall mall," article on "dr. hooker on religion and science" in. -letter to editor of. pallas, darwin's conviction of truth of doctrine of. -doctrine of. -on hybrids and fertility. palm, malayan climbing. palm, l.h., work on climbing plants by. palma, crater of. pampas, geology of the. -formation of. -lyell on mississippi beds and. -d'orbigny's theory of formation of. -thistle of the. pangenesis, adverse opinion on. -bentham on. -berkeley on. -bud-propagation and. -darwin on. -darwin's suggestion as to term. -difference between galton's theory of heredity and. -evidence from hybridisation in favour of. -hooker on. -huxley's views on. -jager on. -lyell on. -and molecular hypothesis of hackel. -ranyard on. -romanes on. -self-fertilisation and. -wallace on. -the idea a relief to darwin as connecting facts. -f. muller and. -bearing on regeneration. -"will turn out true some day." -mentioned. panmixia. panniculus carnosus in man. papilio memnon, wallace on. -p. nireus, mrs. barber on. -p. pammon, wallace on. papilionaceaous flowers, absence in new zealand. -and hermaphroditism. papilionidae, wallace on malayan. paraheliotropism, muller's observations on. -in phyllanthus. parallel roads of glen roy (see glen roy). parana, darwin finds mastodon at. pararge, breeding in confinement. parasites, and degeneration. -extermination of game by. -bloom as protection against. -and galls. parietaria, explosive stamens of. parrots, as agents in seed-dispersal. parsimony, hamilton's law of. parthenogenesis, darwin on. -owen's hunterian lecture on. -in primula. -j. scott's work on. partridges, as agents of seed-dispersal. -rudimentary spurs on legs of. parus caeruleus, protective colouring of. passiflora, bloom experiments on. -lord farrer's work on. -position of flowers of. -muller assists lord farrer in work on. -scott's work on. -self-sterility of. -sprengel on. -visited by humming-birds. -p. gracilis, dispersal of seeds. -p. princeps, adapted to humming birds. patagonia, l. agassiz on elevation of. -darwin on geology of. -gigantic land-sloth of. -admiral sulivan on. pathology, paget's lectures on. pattison, mark. pavo nigripennis. payne, on effect of rain on plants. -observations by. peaches, bud-variation in. -raised from seed. peacock, evolution and sexual selection of. -experiments on cutting tail of male. -muscles of tail of. pearson, h.h.w., on the botany of ceylon patanas. peas, course of vessels in ovary of sweet-. -crossing in. -fertilisation of. -waxy secretion in. pecten, p. latissimus. pelargonium, peloric. -beaton on. -darwin's experiments on. -flowers of. -p. multiflora alba, darwin's experiments on crossing. pelobius, darwin on. peloria, effect of pollen on regular flowers. -darwin suggests experiments on. -masters on. -in pelargonium. -inheritance of. peneus, f. muller on. pentateuch, n. lewy on. periodicals, darwin's opinion of scientific. -foreign compared with english. peripatus, moseley's work on. peristylus viridis, lord farrer's observations on. permanence of ocean basins. permian period, glacial action during. -freshwater beds in india. "personal narrative," humboldt's. peru, anarchy in. -darwin on terraces in. -d. forbes on geology of. peuquenes pass, darwin visits. pfeffer, prof., on chemotaxis. -considers wiesner wrong in some of his interpretations. -on drosera. -"periodische bewegungen." pfitzer, on classification of orchids. pfluger. phalaenopsis. phanerogams, comparison with one class of animals rather than with one kingdom. phaseoli, crossing in. phaseolus vulgaris, sleep-movements of. pheasants, display of colour by golden. -hewitt on hybrids of. -hybrids between fowls and. -protective colouring. phillips, j., defines species. -evolutionary views. -"life on the earth." -mentioned. phillips-jodrell, t.t., founder of jodrell laboratory at kew. philosophical club. philosophical experiments, few naturalists care for. philosophising, means and laws of. phlox, darwin's observations on flowers of. -heterostylism of. -p. drummondii. -p. subulata. phyllanthus, f. muller's paper in "kosmos" on. -sleep-movements of. -p. niruri, sleep-movements of. phryma, de candolle on. -occurrence in n. america. phyllotaxis, darwin and falconer on. physical conditions, effect of. "physical geography," herschel's. physicists, disagree as to rate of cooling of earth's crust. "physiological aesthetics," grant allen's. physiological germs. physiological selection, romanes'. physiological species, huxley's term. physiological units, herbert spencer's. physiological variations. "physiology," huxley's "elementary lessons in." -darwin on difficulty of. -darwin's want of knowledge of. -darwin's work on plant-. -england behind in vegetable. -small knowledge of ordinary doctors of. -and vivisection. phytophagic varieties, walsh on. phytophthora, potatoes and. "pickwick," quotation from. pictet, on the succession of forms. -mentioned. pictet and humbert, on fossil fishes of lebanon. pieris, breeding in confinement. -colour the result of mimicry. -protective colouring. -p. napi. -weismann on. pigeons, breeding of. -drawings of. -experiments on crossing. -experiments bearing on direct action. -production of varieties. -reduction of wings. -and sterility. -tegetmeier's work on. -wallace on malayan. -darwin's work on. -experiments in painting. -flourens' experiments on. -gay deceiver. -pairing for whole life. (barbs.) (carriers.) (fantails.) (laugher.) (pouters.) (rock.) (runts.) (tumblers.) pigs, crossing of. "pikermi," gaudry's "animaux fossiles de." pinguicula, darwin's observations on. pistyll rhiadr. pisum, cross-fertilisation of. -p. sativum, visited by bombus. pithecoid man, huxley's term. pithecus, owen on homo and. placentata. plagiaulax, falconer on. planaria. planorbis, hyatt on genesis of species of. -p. multiformis, graduated forms of. plantago, ludwig's observations on. -darwin on. plants, change in animals compared with change in. -comparison between high and low as regards resistance to injurious conditions. -contractility of. -difference between animals and. -distribution of. -fossil. -of madeira. -morphological characters. -resemblance to animals. -saporta's work on fossil. -small proportion preserved as fossils. -splendid for helping belief in natural selection. -thorns in. -wide range as compared with animals. -darwin's interest in movements of. -darwin on physiology of. -disease in. -effect of stimuli on. plas edwards. plasmodiophora, action on cruciferous roots. platanthera, h. muller on. plato, comparison between plants and man in his "timaeus." platysma myoides, contraction during terror. -darwin's error concerning. playfair, lord. pleistocene antarctic land, plants derived from. pliocene, falconer on mammal from the. plovers, protective colouring of. plumage, immature and adult. plumbago, darwin's experiments on. -said to be dimorphic. podostemaceae, fertilisation of. poisons, natives of australia injured by vegetable. -absorption by roots of. -effect of injection into plants. polar bear, modification of. polar ice-cap, darwin on the. polarity, e. forbes' theory of. pollen, direct action of. -experiments on. -time of maturity in eucalyptus and mimosa. -mechanism for distribution in martha. -miyoshi's experiments on tubes of. polyanthus, crossing in. polyborus novae zelandiae, in falkland islands. polydactylism, and inheritance. polyembryony, in coffea and pachira. polygala. -p. vulgaris, variation of. polygamy, in birds. -in machetes. polygonum, germination of seeds found in sandpit. polymorphism, darwin and hooker on. -wallace on. polytypic genera, variation of. pontederia, heterostylism of. pontodrilus, lankester on. poplar, heer on fossil species. popper, j., letter to. poppig, on civilisation and savagery. poppy (corn-), indigenous in sicily. porpoises, flower on. -freshwater. -murray on. portillo pass. porto-santo, land-snails of. -plants of. positivism, huxley's article in "fortnightly review" on. posoqueria, f. muller's paper on. potatoes, crossing experiments. -cultivated and wild. -disease of. -experiments suggested. -graft-hybrids. -sterility and variability in. -torbitt's experiments on. -traill's experiments. -varieties of. -darwin's work on varieties of. -hildebrand's experiments on. poulton, prof., on prichard as an evolutionist. -"charles darwin and the theory of natural selection." poultry, skulls of. -tegetmeier's book on. -experiments on colour and sexual selection. powell, prof. baden. "power of movement in plants," darwin's account of capacity of revolving in plants, in his book. -continental opinion of. -wiesner's criticism of. prawns, f. muller on metamorphosis of. prayer, galton's article on. pre-cambrian rocks, hicks on. predominant forms. "prehistoric europe," j. geikie's. "prehistoric times," lord avebury's. preordination, speculation as to. prepotency of pollen. prescott, reference to work by. preservation, suggested as an alternative term for natural selection. pressure, effect on liquefaction by heat. preston, s. tolver, letter to. prestwich, prof. j., letter to. -on parallel roads of glen roy. -on superficial deposits of s. england. -work on tertiaries. -mentioned. prevost, c., as candidate for royal society foreign list. -mentioned. price, j., extract from letter from darwin to. prichard, james cowles ( - ): he came on both sides from quaker families, but, according to the "encyclopaedia britannica," he ultimately joined the church of england. he was a m.d. of edinburgh, and by diploma of oxford. he was for a year at trinity college, cambridge, and afterwards at st. john's and new college, oxford, but did not graduate at either university. he practised medicine, and was physician to the infirmary at bristol. three years before his death he was made a commissioner in lunacy. he not only wrote much on ethnology, but also made sound contributions to the science of language and on medical subjects. his treatise on insanity was remarkable for his advanced views on "moral insanity." -on immutability. -quotations from his "physical history of mankind." priestley, "green matter" of. -huxley's essay on. primogeniture, antagonistic to natural selection. primrose (see also primula), darwin's experiments on cowslip and. -dimorphism of. -j. scott on. primula, darwin's work on. -difficulty of experimenting with. -dimorphism of. -dimorphism lost by variation. -entrance of pollen-tubes at chalaza. -varying fertility of. -fertilisation of. -homomorphic unions and. -ovules of. -j. scott's work on. -stamens of. -p. elatior. -p. longiflora, non-dimorphism of. -treviranus on. -p. mollis. -p. scotica. -p. sinensis. -fertility of. -legitimate and illegitimate unions. -movement of cotyledons. principle of divergence. "principles of biology," spencer's. "principles of geology," lyell's. -darwin on. -wallace's review of. pringlea antiscorbutica (kerguelen cabbage). priority, falconer and owen on. proboscidean group, extinction of. progress, in forms of life and organisation. progression, tendency in organisms towards. progressive development. pronuba, the yucca moth, riley on. proteaceae, former extension of. protean genera, list of n. american. protection, colour in butterflies and. -thorns as. -wallace on. -colour and. -colour of birds and. -colour of caterpillars and. -colour of shells and. -darwin's views on sexual selection and. -evolution of colour and. -mimicry and. -monkeys' manes as. -wallace on colour and. -wallace on wings of lepidoptera and. protective resemblance, wallace on. proterogyny, in plantago. prothero, g.w. protococcus. protozoa. providential arrangement. prunus laurocerasus, extra-floral nectaries visited by ants. psithyrus. psychology, delboeuf on. -romanes' work on comparative. ptarmigan, protective colouring of. pterophorus periscelidactylus. publishing, over-readiness of most men in. pumilio argyrolepis, darwin on seeds of. purbeck, plagiaulax from the. purpose, darwin on use of term. pyrola, fertilisation mechanism in. quagga, hybrid between horse and. quails, seed-dispersal by migratory. "quarterly journal of science," article on darwin and his teaching in. -review by wallace of the duke of argyll's "reign of law." "quarterly review," mivart's article. -bishop wilberforce's review of "origin" in. -article on zebras, horses, and hybrids. quartz, segregation in foliated rocks. quatrefages, jean louis armand de, de breau ( - ): was a scion of an ancient family originally settled at breau, in the cevennes. his work was largely anthropological, and in his writings and lectures he always combated evolutionary ideas. nevertheless he had a strong personal respect for darwin, and was active in obtaining his election at the institut. for details of his life and work see "a la memoire de j.l.a. de quatrefages de breau," o, paris (privately printed); also "l'anthropologie," iii., , page . -letters to. -translation of paper by. -on proportion of sexes in bombyx. quenstedt, work on the lias by. queries on expression. rabbits, angora, skeletons of. -darwin's work on. race, nature's regard for. racehorse, selection by man. -wallace on fleetness of. -equality of sexes in. races of man. -causes of difference in. -wallace on. rafflesia, parasites allied to. rain, effect on leaves. -movements of leaves as means of shooting off. ramsay, sir a.c., on origin of lakes. -geological society hesitates to publish his paper on lakes. -on ice-action. -on insects in tropics. -memoir by geikie of. -on denudation and earth-movements. -overestimates subaerial denudation. -on parallel roads of glen roy. -on permian glaciers. -proposal that he should investigate glacial deposits in s. america. -mentioned. range, de candolle on large families and their. -coleoptera and restricted. -of genera. -of shells. -size of genera in relation to species and their. -of species. ranunculaceae, evidence of highness in. ranunculus auricomus. ranyard, a.c., letter to "nature" on pangenesis. raoul island, hooker on. raphael's madonna, referred to by darwin. raspberry, germination of seeds from a barrow. -waxy secretion of. rattlesnake, wright on uses of rattle of. raven, said to pair for whole life. ray society, work of. raymond, du bois, work on plants. reade, t.m., letters to. -on age of the world. "reader," sold to the anthropological society. reading, darwin complains of lack of time for. -little time given by scientific workers to. reciprocal crosses, half-sterility of. rede lecture, by phillips ( ). reduction, cessation of selection as cause of. -organs of flight and. -wings of ostrich and. references, darwin on importance of giving. -wallace on. regeneration, power of. -reference in "variation of animals and plants" to. "reign of law," the duke of argyll's. -reviewed by wallace. reindeer, of spitzbergen. -horns of. religion and science. representative species. -in floras of japan and n. america. -in galapagos islands. reproduction, difference in amount of energy expended by male and female in. reproductive organs, st.-hilaire's view of affaiblissement and development of. -in relation to theoretical questions. research, huxley and. -justification of. reseda lutea, sterile with own pollen. -r. odorata, experiment on cross-and self-fertilisation. resemblance, mimetic. resignation, expression in. restiaceae, former extension of. restricted distribution. retardation, cope on. retrogression. reversion, in ammonites. -darwin on. -and degeneration of characters. -factors causing. -hybridism and. -lord morton's mare and. -stripes of mules due to. -struggle between natural selection and. -and crossing. -peloria and. review of the "descent of man," by j. morley. reviews, darwin on an author writing his own. -on the "origin of species," by asa gray. -haughton. -hopkins. -hutton. -huxley. -f. jenkin. -owen. -wilberforce. rhamnus. rhexia, flowers of. -r. virginica, w.h. leggett on anthers. rhinoceros. rhinochetus. rhizocephala, retrograde development in. rhododendron boothii. rhopalocera, breeding in confinement. rhynchoea, colour of. rich, anthony ( ?- ): educated at caius college, cambridge, of which he was afterwards an honorary fellow. author of "illustrated companion to the latin dictionary and greek lexicon," , said to be a useful book on classical antiquities. mr. darwin made his acquaintance in a curious way--namely, by mr. rich writing to inform him that he intended to leave him his fortune, in token of his admiration for his work. mr. rich was the survivor, but left his property to mr. darwin's children, with the exception of his house at worthing, bequeathed to mr. huxley. -legacy to huxley. -letter to. -leaves his fortune to darwin. rich, mrs., mentioned. richardson, r., on tablet to commemorate darwin's lodgings at , lothian street, edinburgh. richardson, darwin on merits of. rigaud, on formation of coal. riley, charles valentine ( - ): was born in england: at the age of seventeen he ran away from home and settled in illinois, where at first he supported himself as a labourer; but he soon took to science, and his first contributions to entomology appeared in . he became entomological editor of the "prairie farmer" (chicago), and came under the influence of b.d. walsh. in riley became state entomologist of missouri, and in entomologist to the u.s. department of agriculture, a post he resigned in owing to ill-health; his death was the result of a bicycle accident. (taken principally from the "proceedings of the entomological society of washington," volume iii., - , page .) -letters to. -mentioned. rio janeiro, absence of erratic boulders near. -agassiz on drift-formation near. rio negro. rio plata. ritchie, mrs., visit to down. rivers, the late mr. thomas: of sawbridgeworth, was an eminent horticulturist and writer on horticulture. -letters to. robin, attracted by colour of triphaena (triphoea). robinia, insect visitors of. rocks, bending when heated. -condition in interior of earth. -fluidity of. -metamorphism of (see also metamorphism). rocky mountains, wingless insects of the. rogers, w.b. and h.d., on cleavage. -on coalfields of n. america. -on parallelism of axis-planes of elevation and cleavage. rolleston, george ( - ): obtained a first-class in classics at oxford in ; he was elected fellow of pembroke college in , and in the same year he entered st. bartholomew's hospital. towards the close of the crimean war, rolleston was appointed one of the physicians to the british civil hospital at smyrna. in he was elected the first linacre professor of anatomy and physiology, a post which he held until his death. "he was perhaps the last of a school of english natural historians or biologists in the widest sense of the term." in he gave the results of his work on the classification of brains in a lecture delivered at the royal institution, and in published his best known book, "forms of animal life (dict. nat. biography). -address in "nature" by. -on the orang-utang. -adhesion to darwin's views. -letter to. -letter to darwin from. -mentioned. rollisson. roman villa at abinger. romanes, g.j. ( - ): was one of mr. darwin's most devoted disciples. the letters published in mrs. romanes' interesting "life and letters" of her husband ( ) make clear the warm feelings of regard and respect which darwin entertained for his correspondent. -darwin on controversy between duke of argyll and. -on graft-hybrids. -letters to. -letter to darwin from. -letter to "nature" in reply to the duke of argyll. -on physiological selection. -review of roux's book. -on heliotropism. -lecture on animal intelligence by. -lecture on evolution of nerves. -letter to "times" from. -"life and letters" of. -on minds of animals. roots, heliotropism of. -sensitive tip of. roses, n. american species. -bud-variation. -raising from seed. -resemblance of seedling moss-rose to scotch. -varieties of. ross, sir j. rosse, lord. round island, fauna and flora of. roux's "struggle of parts in the organism." royal commission on vivisection. royal institution, lectures at. royal medals. royal society, council meeting of. royer, mdlle., translatress of the "origin." royle, john forbes ( - ): was originally a surgeon in the h.e.i.c. medical service, and was for some years curator at saharunpur. from - he was professor of materia medica at king's college, london. he wrote principally on economic and indian botany. one of his chief works was "illustrations of the botany and other branches of the natural history of the himalayan mountains and of the flora of cashmere." (london, .) -letters to. -mentioned. rubiaceae, dimorphism in. -fertilisation in. rubus, n. american species. -variation in. -f. darwin on roots of. rubus and hieracium, comparison of variability of n. american and european species. rucker. rudimentary organs. -in frogs. -nascent and. -variation of. -in man. -use in classification. rudinger, dr., on regeneration. rue, flowers of. ruffs, polygamy of. rumex, germination of old seeds. russia, forms of wheat cultivated in. rutaceae, a. st.-hilaire on difference in ovary of same plants of. sabine, general sir e. sabine ( - ): president of the royal society - . (see "life and letters," iii., page .) -address to royal society. -award of copley medal to darwin during presidency of. -recognition by government. -mentioned. sabrina, elevation of. sagitta. st. dabeoc's heath, in azores. st. helena, darwin suggests possibility of finding lost plants in earth from. -extinction in. -hooker on flora of. -land-birds of. -plants of. -trees of. -darwin on craters of. -geology of. -subsidence in. -white on hemiptera of. st.-hilaire, a.f.c.p. de, on affaiblissement. -erect and suspended ovules in same ovary. -"lecons de botanique." -life of. st.-hilaire, j.g., on monstrosities. -author of "life of a.f.c.p. de st.-hilaire." st. jago, darwin on craters of. -elevation of. st. paul's rocks, plants of. -geological structure. saintpaulia, dimorphic flowers. st. ventanao, conglomerates of. salicaceae. salicornia, bloom on. salix, varieties of. salsola kali, bloom on. salt water, effect on plants. salter, on vitality of seeds after immersion in the sea. saltus, darwin's views on. salvages, flora of the. salvia, hildebrand's paper on. samara, russian wheat sent to darwin from. samoyedes, power of finding their way in fog. sandberger, controversy with hilgendorf. sanderson, sir j.b., electrical experiments on plants. -letters to. -on vivisection. sandwich islands, absence of alpine floras. -flora of. -geranium of. -dana on valleys and craters. -galapagos and. sanicula, occurrence of species in azores. -range of. santa cruz. santorin, crater of. -linear vent in. -lyell's account of. saporta, marquis de, ( - ): devoted himself to the study of fossil plants, and by his untiring energy and broad scientific treatment of the subject he will always rank as one of the pioneers of vegetable palaeontology. in addition to many important monographs on tertiary and jurassic floras, he published several books and papers in which darwin's views are applied to the investigation of the records of plant-life furnished by rocks of all ages. ("le marquis g. de saporta, sa vie et ses travaux," by r. zeiller. "bull. soc. geol. france," volume xxiv., page , .) -letters to. -on rapid development of higher plants. sargassum, forbes on. sarracenia. savages, civilisation of. -comparison between animals and. -decrease of. -selection among. saxifrages, destruction in ireland of spanish. -formation of hairs in. saxonika, form of russian wheat. scaevola, fertilisation mechanism of. -s. microcarpa, fertilisation mechanism of. scalesia. scandinavia, hooker on potency of flora. -blytt on distribution of plants of. -elevation of. scarlet fever, darwin's dread of. "scenery of scotland," sir a. geikie's. scepticism, darwin on. schimper, review by hooker of "paleontologie vegetale" by. schlagintweit. schleiden, convert to darwin's views. schmankewitsch, experiments on artemia by. schobl, j., on ears of mice. schoenherr, c.j. schomburgk, sir r., on catasetum, monacanthus, and myanthus. school, darwin at mr. case's. -of mines. schrankia, a sensitive species of. schultze, max. science, and superstition. -progresses at railroad speed. science defence association, darwin asked to be president of. scientific men, attributes of. -domestic ties and work of. -article in "reader" on. scientific periodicals, darwin's opinion of. scotland, forest trees of. -comparison between flora of t. del fuego and that of. -elevation of. -frequency of earthquakes in. -land-glaciation of. -tails of diluvium in. "scotsman," forbes' lecture published in. -darwin's letter on the parallel roads of glen roy in the. scott, d.h., obituary notice of nageli by. scott, john ( - ): short obituary notices of scott appeared in the "journal of botany," , page , and in the "transactions of the bot. soc. of edinburgh" volume xiv., november th, , page ; but the materials for a biographical sketch are unfortunately scanty. he was the son of a farmer, and was born at denholm (the birthplace the poet leiden, to whom a monument has been erected in the public square of the village), in roxburghshire. at four years of age he was left an orphan, and was brought up in his aunt's household. he early showed a love of plants, and this was encouraged by his cousin, the rev. james duncan. scott told darwin that he chose a gardening life as the best way of following science; and this is the more remarkable inasmuch as he was apprenticed at fourteen years of age. he afterwards (apparently in ) entered the royal botanic garden at edinburgh, and became head of the propagating department under mr. mcnab. his earliest publication, as far as we are aware, is a paper on fern-spores, read before the bot. soc., edinburgh, on june th, . in the same year he was at work on orchids, and this led to his connection with darwin, to whom he wrote in november . in he got an appointment at the calcutta botanic garden, a position he owed to sir j.d. hooker, who was doubtless influenced by darwin's high opinion of scott. it was on his way to india that scott had, we believe, his only personal interview with darwin. we are indebted to sir george king for the interesting notes given below, which enable us to form an estimate of scott's personality. he was evidently of a proud and sensitive nature, and that his manner was pleasing and dignified appears from darwin's brief mention of the interview. he must have been almost morbidly modest, for darwin wrote to hooker (january th, ): "remember my urgent wish to be able to send the poor fellow a word of praise from any one. i have had hard work to get him to allow me to send the [primula] paper to the linn. soc., even after it was written out!" and this was after the obviously genuine appreciation of the paper given in darwin's letters. sir george king writes:-- "he had taught himself a little latin and a good deal of french, and he had read a good deal of english literature. he was certainly one of the most remarkable self-taught men i ever met, and i often regret that i did not see more of him...scott's manner was shy and modest almost to being apologetic; and the condition of nervous tension in which he seemed to live was indicated by frequent nervous gestures with his hands and by the restless twisting of his long beard in which he continuously indulged. he was grave and reserved; but when he became interested in any matter he talked freely, although always deliberately, and he was always ready to deafen his opinions with much spirit. he had, moreover, a considerable sense of humour. what struck me most about scott was the great acuteness of his powers of observing natural phenomena, and especially of such as had any bearing on variation, natural selection or hybridity. while most attentive to the ordinary duties of the chief of a large garden, scott always continued to find leisure for private study, and especially for the conduct of experiments in hybridization. for the latter his position in the calcutta garden afforded him many facilities. after obtaining a post in the calcutta botanic gardens, scott continued to work and to correspond with darwin, but his work was hardly on a level with the promise of his earlier years. according to the "journal of botany," he was attacked by an affection of the spleen at darjeeling, where he had been sent to report on the coffee disease. he returned to edinburgh in the spring of , and died in the june of that year. at the time of his death many experiments were in hand, but his records of these were too imperfect to admit of their being taken up and continued after his death. in temper scott was most gentle and loveable, and to his friends he was loyal almost to a fault. he was quite without ambition to 'get on' in the world; he had no low or mean motives; and than john scott, natural science probably had no more earnest and single-minded devotee." -correspondence with. -criticism on the "origin" by. -letters to. -on natural selection. -on a red cowslip. -confirms darwin's work, also points out error. -darwin assists financially. -darwin's opinion of. -darwin offers to present books to. -darwin writes to hooker about indian appointment for. -darwin's proposal that he should work at down as his assistant. -darwin suggests that he should work at kew. -on dispersal of seed of adenanthera by parrots. -on fertilisation of acropera. -a good observer and experimentalist. -a lover of natural history. -observations on acclimatisation of seeds. -on oncidium flexuosum. -letter to darwin from. -offered associateship of linnean society. -on imatophyllum. -on self-sterility in passiflora. -on primula. -on sexes in zea. -mentioned. scrope, p., on volcanic rocks. scrophularineae. scudder, on fossil insects. sea, dana underestimates power of. -changes in level of land due to those of. -marks left on land by action of. seakale, bloom on. seashore plants, use of bloom on. sea-sickness, darwin suffers from. "seasons with the sea horses," lamont's. secondary period, abundance of araucarias and marsupials during. -equality of elevation in british rocks of. -insects prior to. sections of earth's crust, need for accurate. sedgwick, prof. a., extract from letter to owen from. -letter to darwin from. -on the "vestiges of creation." -and the philosophical society's meeting at cambridge. -and the "spectator." -darwin's visit to. -feelings towards darwin. -on the structure of large mineral masses. -proposes forbes for royal medal. -quotation from letter to darwin from. -suggested as candidate for royal medal. -mentioned. sedgwick, a., address at the british association ( ). sedimentary strata, conversion into schists. sedimentation, connection with elevation and subsidence. -near coast-lines. seedlings, sensitiveness to light. seeds, collected by girls in prof. henslow's parish. -dispersal of. -effect of immersion on. -of furze. -asa gray on darwin's salt-water experiments. -germination after / hours in owl's stomach. -moss-roses raised from. -peaches from. -variation in. -bright colours of fruits and. -difficulty of finding in samples of earth. -dormant state of. -germination from pond mud. -hildebrand on dispersal of. -mucus emitted by. -stored by ants. -supposed vivification of fossil. -vitality of. seeley, prof. seemann, on commingling of temperate and tropical plants in mountains of panama. -on the "origin" in germany. -mentioned. segregation of minerals in foliated rocks. selaginella, foot of, compared with organ in welwitschia seedling. selection, a misleading term. -artificial. -as means of improving breeds. -importance of. -influence of speedy. -utilised by pigeon-fanciers. -sexual (see sexual selection). -sterility and. -unconscious. -and variation. -voluntary. -and inheritance. self-fertilisation, abundance of seeds from. -darwin's experiments on cross- and. -evil results of. -comparison between seeds from cross- and. -in goodeniaceae. -in orchids. self-interest, preston on. self-sterility, in eschscholtzia. -in plants. -connection with unnatural conditions. selliera, hamilton on fertilisation-mechanism. semper, karl ( - ): professor of zoology at wurzburg. he is known for his book of travels in the philippine and pelew islands, for his work in comparative embryology, and for the work mentioned in the above letter. see an obituary notice in "nature," july th, , page . -letter to. senecio. -s. vulgaris, profits by cross-fertilisation. sensitive plants, darwin's work on. sensitiveness, diversified kinds in allied plants. separate creations, darwin on. sequoia. seringe, on aconitum flowers. sertularia. sethia, dimorphism of. settegast, h., letter to. severn, darwin on floods of. seward, a.c., "fossil plants as tests of climate." sexes, colour, and difference in. -proportion at birth. -proportion in animals. sexual likeness, secondary. sexual organs, as collectors of generative elements. -appendages in insects complemental to. sexual reproduction, galton on. -bearing of f. muller's work on essence of. sexual selection, bates on. -darwin on. -article in "kosmos" on. -colour and. -man and. -in moths and butterflies. -subordinate to natural selection. -wallace on colour and. -wallace on difficulties of. sexuality, bentham on. -in lower forms. -origin of. shanghai, tooth of mastodon from. sharp, david, on bombus. -on volucella. -"insects." sharpe, daniel ( - ): left school at the age of sixteen, and became a clerk in the service of a portuguese merchant. at the age of twenty-four he went for a year to portugal, and afterwards spent a considerable amount of time in that country. the results of his geological work, carried out in the intervals of business, were published in the journal of the geological society of london ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume v., page ; volume vi., page ). although actively engaged in business all his life, sharpe communicated several papers to the geological society, his researches into the origin of slaty cleavage being among the ablest and most important of his contributions to geology ("quart. journ. geol. soc." volume iii., page ; volume v., page ). a full account of sharpe's work is given in an abituary notice published in the "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xiii., page xlv. -on elevation. -darwin meets. -letters to. -on cleavage and foliation. sharpey, w., letter from falconer to. -honorary member of physiological society. shaw, j., letter to. sheep, varieties of. sheldrake, dancing on sand to make sea-worms come out. shells, forbes and hancock on british. -distorted by cleavage. -means of dispersal. -protective colour of. sherborn, c.d., "catalogue of mammalia" by a.s. woodward and. shetland, comparison between flora of t. del fuego and that of. shrewsbury, school. siberia, rhinoceros and steppes of central. sicily, elephants of. -flora of. sidgwick, prof. h. siebold, von. sigillaria, an aquatic plant. silene, gartner's crossing-experiments on. silurian, comparison between recent organisms and. -life of. -lingula from the. -corals. -volcanic strata. simon, sir john: he was for many years medical officer of the privy council, and in that capacity issued a well-known series of reports. -reports by. simple forms, existence of. -survival of. simpson, sir j., on regeneration in womb. siphocampylus. sitaris, lord avebury on meloe and. siwalik hills. skertchley, s.b.j., on palaeolithic flints in boulder-clay of e. anglia. -letter to. skin, influence of mind on eruptions of. slate, cleavage of schists and. slave-ants, account in the "origin" of. sleep, plants' so-called. sleep-movements, in plants. -of cotyledons. slime of seeds. sloths. smell, ogle's work on sense of. smerinthus populi-ocellatus, weir on hybrid. smilaceae, reference to genera of. smilax, de candolle on flower of. smith, goldwin. smith, j., note on. snails of porto santo. snipe, protective colour of. snow, red. -geological action of frozen. snowdon, elevation in recent times. social instincts, actions as result of. social plants, de candolle on. -in the u.s.a. "sociology," h. spencer's. soda, nitrate beds. soil, in relation to plant distribution. solanaceae. solanum rostratum, todd on stamens of. solenhofen, bird-creature from. sollas, prof., director of the funafuti boring expedition. -account of the boring operations by. sonchus, introduced into new zealand. song, importance in animal kingdom. sophocles, prof., on expression of affirmation by turks. sorby, on metamorphism. sound, and music. southampton, british association meeting ( ). -darwin on gravel deposits at. -darwin's visits to. spanish chesnut, variation in leaf divergence. spanish plants in ireland. -in la plata. spawn, dispersal of frogs'. spean, terraces in valley of. special ordination. specialisation. species, antiquity of plant-. -belief in evolution of. -changing into one another. -creation of. -darwin recognises difficulties in and objections to his views on. -definition of. -descriptive work influenced by darwin's views on. -facts from hooker bearing on. -food as important factor in keeping up number of. -frequency of. -asa gray on. -hooker on. -intermediate forms absent in close. -little tendency during migration to form new. -modification of. -and monstrosities. -mutability of. -nageli's views on. -origin of (see origin of species). -permanence of. -prichard on meaning of term. -range of. -representative. -separate creation of. -spreading of. -sterility between allied. -and sterility. -time necessary to change. -time of creation of new. -variation of. -wallace on origin of. -walsh on modification of. -weismann on. -gaudry on affiliation of. -hackel on change of. -isolation of. -value of careful discrimination of. "species not transmutable," bree's book on. specific character, falconer on persistence of. speculation, darwin on. spencer, h., darwin on the advantage of his expression "survival of the fittest." -letter to. -on electric organs. -on genesis of nervous system. -on survival of the fittest. -romanes on his theory of nerve-genesis. -wallace's admiration for. -darwin on his work. -extract from letter to. -mentioned. spermacoce. spey, terraces of. sphagnum, parasitism of orchids on. spiders, mental powers of. -moggridge on. spiranthes, fertilisation of. spiritualism, darwin on. sptizbergen, lamont's book on. -reindeer of. sponges, clark on classification of. -hackel's work on. -f. muller on. spontaneous generation. -darwin's disbelief in. -huxley's disbelief in. sports. sprengel, (c.c.) christian konrad ( - ): was for a time rector of spandau, near berlin; but his enthusiasm for botany led to neglect of parochial duties, and to dismissal from his living. his well-known work, "das entdeckte geheimniss der natur," was published in . an account of sprengel was published in "flora," , by one of his old pupils. see also "life and letters," i., page , and an article in "natural science," volume ii., , by j.c. willis. -on passion-flowers. stag-beetle, forms of. stahl, prof., on desmodium. -on transpiration. stainton. stanhope, lord. stanhopea, fertilisation of. stapelia, fertilisation of. starling, paired three times in one day. state-entomologist, appointment of in america, not likely to occur in england. statistics, of births and deaths. -asa gray's n. american plant-. steinheim, lias rocks of. stellaria media, cross-fertilisation of. stephens, miss catherine: was born in , and died, as the countess of essex, in . sterile, use of term. sterility, accumulation through natural selection. -arguments relating to. -artificial production of. -between allied species aided by natural selection. -connection with sexual differentiation. -and crossing. -domestication and loss of. -experiments on. -of hybrids. -in human beings. -huxley on. -increase of races and. -laws governing. -natural selection and. -in pigeons. -in plants (see also self-sterility). -reciprocal crosses and unequal. -selection and. -variations in amount of. -varieties and. stirling, and huxley. stokes, sir g. strasburger, on fertilisation of grasses. stratification, and cleavage. strephium, vertical position of leaves. strezlecki. strickland, h., letters to. -on zoological nomenclature. stripes, loss and significance of. structural dissimilarity, and sterility. structure, external conditions in relation to. struggle for existence. -and crossing. -factors concerned in. -and hybrids. -j. scott on. strychnos, f. muller on. student, darwin as an edinburgh. studer, bernhard: several of studer's papers were translated and published in the "edinburgh new phil. journ." see volume xlii., ; volume xliv., , etc. -on cleavage and foliation. "studien zur descendenz-theorie," weismann's. "studies in the theory of descent," meldola's translation of weismann's book. "study of sociology," h. spencer's. stur, dionys ( - ): director of the austrian geological survey from to ; author of many important memoirs on palaeobotanical subjects. style, darwin on. -darwin on huxley's. -effect of controversy on. suaeda, bloom on. submergence. subsidence, evidence of. -coral reefs and. -and elevation. -equable nature of. -large areas simultaneously affected by. -in oceans. -and sedimentation. -volcanic action. subterranean animal, existence in patagonia of supposed. subularia, fertilisation of. succession of types. sudden appearance of organisms, due to absence of fossils in pre- cambrian rocks. sudden jumps, modification by. -darwin's disbelief in. suess, "antlitz der erde." suffolk crag, comparison with recent strata. sugar-cane, barber on hybrids of. -new varieties of. sulivan, admiral, on patagonia. superficial deposits, geological nature of. supernumerary members. -amputation followed by regeneration of. "survival of the fittest," darwin on use of the expression. -wallace on the expression. -sharpness of thorns the result of. -colour of birds and. swainson, on wide range of genera. switzerland, tyndall on valleys of. sydney. symonds, william samuel ( - ): a member of an old west-country family, was an undergraduate of christ's college, cambridge, and in became rector of pendock, worcestershire. he published in a book entitled "stones of the valley;" in "old bones, or notes for young naturalists;" and in his best-known work, "records of the rocks." mr. symonds passed the later years of his life at sunningdale, the house of his son-in-law, sir joseph hooker. (see "quart. journ. geol. soc." volume xliv., page xliii.) -on imperfection of geological record. tacsonia, darwin on flowers of. -fertilisation by humming-birds. -scott's work on. tahiti, coral reefs of. -darwin on. tails of diluvium, in scotland. tait, prof. p.g., article in "north british review." -on age of world. tait, l., letters to. tait, w.c., letter to. -on rudimentary tails in dogs and manx cats. -sends drosophyllum to darwin. talbot, mrs. e., letter to. tandon, moquin, "elements de teratologie vegetale." tankerville, lord. tasmania, comparison between floras of new zealand and. -hooker's flora of. -trees of. taylor, w., "life and correspondence" of. tears, and muscular contraction. tees, hooker on glacial moraines in valley of. tegetmeier, w.b., assistance rendered to darwin by. -letters to. telegraph-plant (see also desmodium). "telliamed" (de maillet), evolutionary views of. tendrils, morphology of. teneriffe, flora of. -violet of peak of. -webb and humboldt on zones of. tennent, sir j.e., on elephants' tears. -on utricularia. tentacles, aggregation of protoplasm in cells of plant-. teodoresco, on effect of excess of co on vegetation. teratology, masters on vegetable. -moquin tandon on. terebratula. termites compared with cleistogamic flowers. -f. muller's paper on. terraces, darwin on patagonian. tertiary, antarctic continent, darwin on existence of. -mastodon from shanghai. -flora in madeira. tertiary period, action of sea and earth-movement. -island floras of the. -saporta's work on plants. -succession of types during the. -prestwich's work on. testimonials, darwin on. tetrabranchiata, hyatt on the. thayer's "letters of chauncey wright." theologians, huxley on. theological articles, by asa gray. theology, darwin's opinion on. theorising, observing and. theory, darwin's advice to scott to be sparing in use of. thibet, hooker prohibited crossing into. thierzucht, settegast's. thiselton-dyer, lady. thiselton-dyer, sir w., assists darwin in bloom-experiments. -darwin signs his certificate for royal society. -lecture on plant distribution as field for geographical research. -letter to "nature" from. -notes on letter from darwin to bentham. -on partial submergence of australia. -letters to. -extract from letter to. -on darwin. thiselton-dyer, sir w., and prof. dewar, on immersion of seeds in liquid hydrogen. thlaspi alpestre, range of. thompson, prof. d'arcy, prefatory note by darwin to his translation of h. muller's book. thompson, w., natural-historian of ireland. thomson, sir w., see kelvin, lord. thomson, sir wyville, on natural selection. -mentioned. thomson, review of jordan's "diagnoses d'especes" by. thorns, forms of. "three barriers," theological hash of old abuse of darwin. thury on sex. thwaites, dr. g.h.k. ( - ): held for some years the post of director of the botanic gardens at peradenyia, ceylon; and in published an important work on the flora of the island, entitled "enumeratio plantarum zeylaniae." -on ceylon plants. -letters to. -on the "origin." thymus. tieghem, prof. van, on course of vessels in orchid flowers. -on effect of flashing light on plants. tierra del fuego, flora of. -comparison with glen roy. -evidence of glaciers in. -micaschists of. time, and evolutionary changes. -geological. -meaning of millions of years. -niagara as measure of geological. -rate of deposition as measure of. -wallace on geological. "times," article by huxley in. -letter by fitz-roy in. timiriazeff, prof. timor, mastodon from. toad, power of indian species to resist sea-water. tobacco, kolreuter on varieties of. todd, on solanum rostratum. "toledoth adam," title of book on evolution by n. lewy. torbitt, j., experiments on potatoes, and letter to. torquay, darwin's visit to. tortoises, conversion of turtles into land-. tortugas, a. agassiz on reefs of. toryism, defence of. toucans, colour of beaks in breeding season. trachyte, separation of basalt and. tragopan. traill, experiments on grafting. transfusion experiments, by galton. translations of darwin's books. transplanting, effect on alpine plants. transport, occasional means of. travels, bates' book of. -humboldt's. -wallace's. travers, h.h., on chatham islands. trecul, on drosera. trees, herbaceous orders and. -occurrence in islands. -older forms more likely to develop into. -asa gray on. -conditions in new zealand favourable to development of. -crossing in. -separate sexes in. treub, m., on chalazogamy. treviranus, prof., on primula longiflora. trifolium resupinatum, darwin's observations on bloom on leaflets. trigonecephalus. trilobites, change of genera and species of. trimen, on painting butterflies. trimorphism, in plants. trinidad, catasetum of. -cruger on caprification in. triphaena (triphoea) pronuba, robin attracted by colour of. tristan d'acunha, carmichael on. -vegetation of. triticum repens var. littorum, bloom-experiments on. trollope, a., quotation by darwin from. tropaeolum, darwin's experiments on. -peloric variety of. -waxy secretion on leaves. tropical climate, in relation to colouring of insects. tropical plants, possible existence during cooler period. -retreat of. tropics, climatic changes in. -description of forests in. -similarity of orders in. tubocytisus, kerner on. tuckwell, on the oxford british association meeting ( ). tucotuco. tuke, d.h., on influence of mind on body. -letter to. tulips. turkey, colour of wings, and courtship. -muscles of tail of. turner, sir w., darwin receives assistance from. -on darwin's methods of correspondence. -letters to. turratella. turtles, conversion into land-tortoises. tussilago, darwin on seeds of groundsel and. twins, galton's article on. tylor, article in "journal of the royal institution" by. -on "early history of mankind." tyndall, lack of caution. -lecture by. -on the alps. -review in the "athenaeum" of. -on valleys due to glaciers. -work of. -dogmatism of. -on glaciers. -on sorby's work on cleavage. -mentioned. typhlops. typical forms, difficult to select. -vagueness of phrase. typotherium, falconer on. tyrol, mojsisovics on the dolomites of the. umbelliferae, morphological characters of. -difference in seeds from the same flower. undulation of light, comparison between darwin's views and the theory of. ungulates, development in n. america during tertiary period. united states, flora of. -spread of darwin's views in. unity of coloration, walsh on. uredo, on haematoxylon. ursus arctos, lamont on. -u. maritimus, lamont on. urticaceae. uruguay. d'urville, on canary islands. use and disuse. -in plants. uses, natural selection and. uspallata. utilitarianism, darwin on. utility and inheritance. utopian "flora," darwin's idea of. utricularia, darwin's work on. -u. stellaris, sir e. tennent on. vaginulus, darwin finds new species of. valeriana, two forms of. valleys, action of ice in formation of. -dana on australian. -darwin on origin of. valparaiso. van diemen's land, flora of, in relation to new zealand. vanda. vandeae, structure of ovary. vanessa, two sexual forms of. -breeding in confinement. -colour of. vanilla. variability, backward tendency of. -bentham on. -causes of. -de candolle on. -dependent more on nature of organism than on environment. -huxley and scott on. -importance of subject of cause of. -natural selection and. -in oaks. -greater in bisexual than in unisexual plants. -of ferns "passes all bounds." -greater in male than female. -in ovaries of flowers. -tendency of genera at different periods towards. variation. -an innate principle. -bates on. -in blackbirds. -causes of. -centrifugal nature of. -checked by natural selection. -climate and. -darwin attaches importance to useless. -darwin on favourable. -divergence of. -and external conditions. -in elephants. -in fucus. -of large genera. -laws of. -of monotypic and polytypic genera. -and monstrosities. -and natural selection. -ordination and. -in peaches. -in plants. -produced by crossing. -rate of action of. -of small genera. -sterility advantageous to. -weismann on. -galls as cause of. -and loss of dimorphism in primula and auricula. -sexual selection and minute. -transmission to sexes. -verlot on. -wallace on. "variation of animals and plants under domestication," completion of. -delay in publication. -lyell on. -translation of. -wallace's opinion of. -darwin at work on. varieties, accumulation of. -distinction between species and. -fertility of. -in insects. -in large genera. -of molluscs. -production of. -species the product of long series of. -use of. -wallace on. -elimination by crossing. -zoologists neglect study of. vaucher, "plantes d'europe." "vegetable teratology," masters'. vegetative reproduction, darwin on. veitch, j. velleia, fertilisation mechanism of. verbascum, crossing and varieties in. -scott's work on. verbenaceae. verlot, on variation in flowers. veronica, antarctic species of. vessels, course of, as guide to morphology of flowers. "vestiges of creation," huxley's review of. -the "origin of species" and. -vetch, extra-floral nectaries of. vetter, editor of "kosmos." viburnum lantanoides, in japan and east u.s.a. victoria street society for protection of animals against vivisection, charge brought against dr. ferrier by. villa franca, baron de, on varieties of sugar-cane. villarsia. vine, graft-hybrids of. -varieties of. -morphology of tendrils. viola, ancestral form of. -cleistogamic flowers of. -pollen-tubes of. -madagascan. -pyrenean. -on peak of teneriffe. -v. canina, fertilisation of. -v. nana. -v. odorata, floral biology of. virchow, huxley's criticism of. -publication by hackel of darwin's criticism of. viscum. vitality of seeds, in salt-water experiments. viti group of islands, effect of subsidence. vivisection. vochting, h., "bewegung der bluthen und fruchte." -letter to. -"organbildung im pflanzenreich." "volcanic geology," dana's. volcanic islands, polymorphic species in. -darwin's geological observations on. -darwin's opinion of his book on. -lyell and herschel on. -relation to continents. volcanic phenomena, cause of. -darwin on. -and elevation. -as mere accidents in swelling up of dome of plutonic rocks. -and subsidence. volcanic rocks. volcano, in interior of asia. volcanoes, in s. america. -compared with boilers. -maritime position of. -of st. jago, mauritius, and st. helena. -simultaneous activity of. -and subsidence. volucella, as example of mimicry. vries, h. de, on plant-movements. vulcanicity. wagner, m., attacks darwin. -essay by. -mentioned. "wahl der lebens-weise." wahlenberg, on variation of species in u.s.a. wales, darwin's visit to. -comparison of valleys of lochaber and. -darwin on glaciers of. -elevation of land in scotland and. -murchison sees no trace of glaciers in. -ramsay on denudation of s. wallace, a.r., on beauty. -criticises the expression, "natural selection." -darwin on cleverness of. -letters to. -letters to darwin from. -on mastodon from timor. -notes by. -on pangenesis. -review of bastian's "beginnings of life." -on sterility. -on success of natural selection. -attributes natural selection to darwin. -on colour and birds' nests. -darwin's criticism of his "geographical distribution of animals." -differs from darwin. -on evolution of man. -"island life." -on wings of lepidoptera. -review of darwin's book on expression. -review of lyell's "principles of geology." -on round island. -same ideas hit on by darwin and. -supplies information to darwin on sexual selection. -on variation. -at work on narrative of travels. wallace, dr., on sexes in bombyx. -on caterpillars. wallich, on oxyspora paniculata. wallis, h.m., on ears. -letters to. walpole. walsh, benjamin dann: was born at frome, in england, in , and died in america in , from the result of a railway accident. he entered at trinity college, cambridge, and obtained a fellowship there after being fifth classic in . he was therefore a contemporary of darwin's at the university, though not a "schoolmate," as the "american entomologist" puts it. he was the author of "a historical account of the university of cambridge and its colleges," london, nd edition, ; also of a translation of part of "aristophanes," : from the dedication of this book it seems that he was at st. paul's school, london. he settled in america in , but only began serious entomology about . he never returned to england. in a letter to mr. darwin, november th, , he gives a curious account of the solitary laborious life he led for many years. "when i left england in ," he writes, "i was possessed with an absurd notion that i would live a perfectly natural life, independent of the whole world--in me ipso totus teres atque rotundus. so i bought several hundred acres of wild land in the wilderness, twenty miles from any settlement that you would call even a village, and with only a single neighbor. there i gradually opened a farm, working myself like a horse, raising great quantities of hogs and bullocks...i did all kinds of jobs for myself, from mending a pair of boots to hooping a barrel." after nearly dying of malaria, he sold his land at a great loss, and found that after twelve years' work he was just dollars poorer than when he began. he then went into the lumber business at rock island, illinois. after seven years he invested most of his savings in building "ten two-storey brick houses for rent." he states that the repairs of the houses occupied about one-fourth of his time, and the remainder he was able to devote to entomology. he afterwards edited the "practical entomologist." in regard to this work he wrote (february th, ):--"editing the 'practical entomologist' does undoubtedly take up a good deal of my time, but i also pick up a good deal of information of real scientific value from its correspondents. besides, this great american nation has hitherto had a supreme contempt for natural history, because they have hitherto believed that it has nothing to do with the dollars and cents. after hammering away at them for a year or two, i have at last succeeded in touching the 'pocket nerve' in uncle sam's body, and he is gradually being galvanised into the conviction that science has the power to make him richer." it is difficult to realise that even forty years ago the position of science in illinois was what mr. walsh describes it to be: "you cannot have the remotest conception of the ideas of even our best- educated americans as to the pursuit of science. i never yet met with a single one who could be brought to understand how or why a man should pursue science for its own pure and holy sake." mr. l.o. howard ("insect life," volume vii., , page ) says that harris received from the state of massachusetts only dollars for his classical report on injurious insects which appeared in and was reprinted in and . it would seem that in these times massachusetts was in much the same state of darkness as illinois. in the winter of - walsh was, however, appointed state entomologist of illinois. he made but one report before his death. he was a man of liberal ideas, hating oppression and wrong in all its forms. on one occasion his life was threatened for an attempt to purify the town council. as an instance of "hereditary genius" it may be mentioned that his brother was a well-known writer on natural history and sporting subjects, under the pseudonym "stonehenge." the facts here given are chiefly taken from the "american entomologist" (st. louis, mo.), volume ii., page . -as entomologist. -letters to. -letter to darwin from. -death of. -and c.v. riley. warming, e., "lehrbuch der okologischen pflanzengeographie." washingtonia. wasps, power of building cells. water, effect on leaves (see also rain). water-weed, marshall on. waterhouse, george robert ( - ): held the post of keeper of the department of geology in the british museum from to . -review by darwin of his book on mammalia. -on skeletons of rabbits. -on wide range of genera. -mentioned. waterloo, darwin's recollections of. waterton. watson, h.c., alluded to. -on the azores. -on british agrarian plants. -on northward range of plants common to britain and america. -objection to darwin's views. -on natural selection. -mentioned. waves, depth of action of. wax, secretion on leaves (see also bloom). wealden period. weale, j.p.m., sends locust dung from natal to darwin. webb, on flora of teneriffe. wedgwood, elizabeth. wedgwood, emma (mrs. darwin), letter to. wedgwood, hensleigh: brother-in-law to charles darwin. -darwin visits. -influenced by lyell's book on america. -on tyndall. wedgwood, josiah, letter to. weeds, adaptation to cultivated ground. -english versus american. -asa gray on pertinacity of. weeping, physiology of. weir, h.w., on cytisus. weir, mr. john jenner ( - ): came of a family of scotch descent; in he entered the service of the custom house, and during the final eleven years of his service, i.e. from to , held the position of accountant and controller-general. he was a born naturalist, and his "aptitude for exact observation was of the highest order" (mr. m'lachlan in the "entomologist's monthly magazine," may ). he is chiefly known as an entomologist, but he had also extensive knowledge of ornithology, horticulture, and of the breeds of various domestic animals and cage-birds. his personal qualities made him many friends, and he was especially kind to beginners in the numerous subjects on which he was an authority ("science gossip," may ). -experiments on caterpillars. -letters to. -extract from letter to darwin from. -on birds. -invited to down. -value of his letters to darwin. -mentioned. weismann, a., darwin asked to point out how far his work follows same lines as that of. -on dimorphism. -"einfluss der isolirung." -letters to. -meldola's translation of "studies in descent." -"studies in theory of descent." -faith in sexual selection. wellingtonia. wells, dr., essay on dew. -quoted by darwin as having enunciated principle of natural selection before publication of "origin." welwitschia, hooker's work on. -darwin on. -a "vegetable ornithorhynchus." welwitschia mirabilis, seedlings of. wenlock, coral limestone of. west indies, plants of. -coral reefs. -elevation and subsidence of. -orchids of. westminster abbey, memorial to lyell. "westminster review," huxley's review of the "origin" in. -wallace's article. westwood, j.o. ( - ): professor of entomology at oxford. the royal medal was awarded to him in . he was educated at a friends' school at sheffield, and subsequently articled to a solicitor in london; he was for a short time a partner in the firm, but he never really practised, and devoted himself to science. he is the author of between and papers, chiefly on entomological and archaeological subjects, besides some twenty books. to naturalists he is known by his writings on insects, but he was also "one of the greatest living authorities on anglo-saxon and mediaeval manuscripts" ("dictionary of national biography"). -on range of genera. -and royal medal. -mentioned. whales, flower on. wheat, mummy. -fertilisation of. -forms of russian. whewell, w. whiston. whitaker, w., on escarpments. white, f.b., letter to. -on hemiptera of st. helena. white, gilbert, darwin writes an account of down in the manner of. white, on regeneration. whiteman, r.g., letter to. whitney, on origin of language. wichura, max, on hybrid willows. -on hybridisation. widow-bird, experiments on. wiegmann. wiesner, prof. j., disagrees with darwin's views on plant movement. "das bewegungsvermogen der pflanzen." -on heliotropism. -letter to. wigand, a., "der darwinismus..." -jager's work contra. wight, dr., on cucurbitaceae. wilberforce, bishop, review in the "quarterly." wildness of game. wilkes' exploring expedition, dana's volume in reports of. williamson, prof. w.c. willis, j.c., reference to his "flowering plants and ferns." willows, walsh on galls of. -wichura on hybrid. wilson, a.s., letters to. -on russian wheat. wind-fertilised trees and plants, abundant in humid and temperate regions. wingless birds, transport of. wings of ostrich. wire-bird, of st. helena. witches' brooms. wives, resemblance to husbands. wollaston, thomas vernon ( - ): wollaston was an under-graduate at jesus college, cambridge, and in late life published several books on the coleopterous insects of madeira, the canaries, the cape verde islands, and other regions. he is referred to in the "origin of species" (edition vi page ) as having discovered "the remarkable fact that beetles, out of the species (but more are now known) inhabiting madeira, are so far deficient in wings that they cannot fly; and that, of the twenty-nine endemic genera, no less than twenty-three have all their species in this condition!" see obituary notice in "nature," volume xvii., page , , and "trans. entom. soc." , page xxxviii.) "catalogue" (probably the "catalogue of the coleopterous insects of the canaries in the british museum," .) -catalogue of insects of canary islands. -darwin and royal medal. -in agreement with falconer in opposition to darwin's views on species. -"insecta maderensia." -on rarity of intermediate varieties in insects. -review on the "origin" by. -on varieties. -mentioned. wolverhampton, abrupt termination of boulders near. wood, fossil. wood, t.w., drawings by. woodcock, germination of seeds carried by. -protective colouring of. woodd, c.h.l., letter to. woodpecker, adaptation in. -and direct action. -form of tail of. woodward, a.s., on neomylodon. -and c.d. sherborn, "catalogue of british fossil vertebrata." woodward, samuel pickworth ( - ): held an appointment in the british museum library for a short time, and then became sub-curator to the geological society ( ). in he was appointed professor of geology and natural history in the recently founded royal agricultural college, cirencester; he afterwards obtained a post as first-class assistant in the department of geology and mineralogy in the british museum. woodward's chief work, "the manual of mollusca," was published in - . ("a memoir of dr. s.p. woodward," "trans. norfolk and norwich naturalists' society," volume iii., page , . by h.b. woodward.) -letters to. world, age of the. worms, darwin's work on. -destruction by rain of. -intelligence of. wrangel's "travels in siberia." "wreck of the 'favourite'," clarke's. wright, c., on bees' cells. -letters to. -review by. wright, g.f., extract from letter from asa gray, to. wydler, on morphology of cruciferous flower. wyman, jeffries ( - ): graduated at harvard in , and afterwards entered the medical college at boston, receiving the m.d. degree in . in wyman was appointed hervey professor of anatomy at harvard, which position he held up to the time of his death. his contributions to zoological science numbered over a hundred papers. (see "proc. amer. acad. arts and sciences," volume ii., - , pages - .) -letter from. -on spontaneous generation. -mentioned. xenogamy, term suggested by kerner. xenoneura antiquorum, devonian insect. xerophytic characters, not confined to dry-climate plants. yangma valley, hooker's account of dam in. yeo, prof. gerald. yew, origin of irish. york, british association meeting ( ), ( ). -dallas in charge of museum. yorkshire, hooker on glaciers in. yucca, fertilisation by moths. zacharias, otto, letter to. zante, colour of polygala flowers in. zea, gartner's work on. -hermaphrodite and female flowers on a male panicle. -varieties received from asa gray. zeiller, r., "le marquis g. de saporta, sa vie..." zinziberaceae. zittel, karl a. von, "handbuch der palaeontologie." zoea stage, in life-history of decapods. zoological gardens, dangerous to suggest subsidising. zoological nomenclature. zoologist, darwin as. "zoonomia," erasmus darwin's. zygaena (burnet-moth), mentioned by darwin in his early recollections. john james audubon _john burroughs_ to c. b. preface. the pioneer in american ornithology was alexander wilson, a scotch weaver and poet, who emigrated to this country in , and began the publication of his great work upon our birds in . he figured and described three hundred and twenty species, fifty-six of them new to science. his death occurred in , before the publication of his work had been completed. but the chief of american ornithologists was john james audubon. audubon did not begin where wilson left off. he was also a pioneer, beginning his studies and drawings of the birds probably as early as wilson did his, but he planned larger and lived longer. he spent the greater part of his long life in the pursuit of ornithology, and was of a more versatile, flexible, and artistic nature than was wilson. he was collecting the material for his work at the same time that wilson was collecting his, but he did not begin the publication of it till fourteen years after wilson's death. both men went directly to nature and underwent incredible hardships in exploring the woods and marshes in quest of their material. audubon's rambles were much wider, and extended over a much longer period of time. wilson, too, contemplated a work upon our quadrupeds, but did not live to begin it. audubon was blessed with good health, length of years, a devoted and self-sacrificing wife, and a buoyant, sanguine, and elastic disposition. he had the heavenly gift of enthusiasm--a passionate love for the work he set out to do. he was a natural hunter, roamer, woodsman; as unworldly as a child, and as simple and transparent. we have had better trained and more scientific ornithologists since his day, but none with his abandon and poetic fervour in the study of our birds. both men were famous pedestrians and often walked hundreds of miles at a stretch. they were natural explorers and voyagers. they loved nature at first hand, and not merely as she appears in books and pictures. they both kept extensive journals of their wanderings and observations. several of audubon's (recording his european experiences) seem to have been lost or destroyed, but what remain make up the greater part of two large volumes recently edited by his grand-daughter, maria r. audubon. i wish here to express my gratitude both to miss audubon, and to messrs. charles scribner's sons, for permitting me to draw freely from the "life and journals" just mentioned. the temptation is strong to let audubon's graphic and glowing descriptions of american scenery, and of his tireless wanderings, speak for themselves. it is from these volumes, and from the life by his widow, published in , that i have gathered the material for this brief biography. audubon's life naturally divides itself into three periods: his youth, which was on the whole a gay and happy one, and which lasted till the time of his marriage at the age of twenty-eight; his business career which followed, lasting ten or more years, and consisting mainly in getting rid of the fortune his father had left him; and his career as an ornithologist which, though attended with great hardships and privations, brought him much happiness and, long before the end, substantial pecuniary rewards. his ornithological tastes and studies really formed the main current of his life from his teens onward. during his business ventures in kentucky and elsewhere this current came to the surface more and more, absorbed more and more of his time and energies, and carried him further and further from the conditions of a successful business career. j. b. west park, new york, january, . chronology _may _. john james la forest audubon was born at mandeville, louisiana. (paucity of dates and conflicting statements make it impossible to insert dates to show when the family moved to st. domingo, and thence to france.) (?) returned to america from france. here followed life at mill grove farm, near philadelphia. or again in france for about two years. studied under david, the artist. then returned to america. _april_ . married lucy bakewell, and journeyed to louisville, kentucky, to engage in business with one rozier. _march_. first met wilson, the ornithologist. dissolved partnership with rozier. - various business ventures in louisville, hendersonville, and st. geneviève, kentucky, again at hendersonville, thence again to louisville. abandoned business career. became taxidermist in cincinnati. left cincinnati. began to form definite plans for the publication of his drawings. returned to new orleans. went to natchez by steamer. gunpowder ruined two hundred of his drawings on this trip. obtained position of drawing-master in the college at washington, mississippi. at the close of this year took his first lessons in oils. went to philadelphia to get his drawings published. thwarted. there met sully, and prince canino. sailed for europe to introduce his drawings. issued prospectus of his "birds." went to paris to canvass. visited cuvier. returned to the united states, scoured the woods for more material for his biographies. returned to london with his family. - elephant folio, _the birds of north america_, published. - _american ornithological biography_ published in edinburgh. again in america for nearly three years. - in florida, south carolina, and the northern states, labrador, and canada. completion of second volume of "birds," also second volume of _american ornithological biography_. in edinburgh. to new york again--more exploring; found books, papers and drawings had been destroyed by fire, the previous year. went to london. published fourth volume of _american ornithological biography_. published fifth volume of "biography." left england for the last time. built house in new york on "minnie's land," now audubon park. yellowstone river expedition. - published the reduced edition of his "bird biographies." published first volume of "quadrupeds." completed _quadrupeds and biography of american quadrupeds_. (the last volume was not published till , after his death.) _january _. john james audubon died in new york. john james audubon. i. there is a hopeless confusion as to certain important dates in audubon's life. he was often careless and unreliable in his statements of matters of fact, which weakness during his lifetime often led to his being accused of falsehood. thus he speaks of the "memorable battle of valley forge" and of two brothers of his, both officers in the french army, as having perished in the french revolution, when he doubtless meant uncles. he had previously stated that his only two brothers died in infancy. he confessed that he had no head for mathematics, and he seems always to have been at sea in regard to his own age. in his letters and journals there are several references to his age, but they rarely agree. the date of his birth usually given, may , , is probably three or four years too early, as he speaks of himself as being nearly seventeen when his mother had him confirmed in the catholic church, and this was about the time that his father, then an officer in the french navy, was sent to england to effect a change of prisoners, which time is given as . the two race strains that mingle in him probably account for this illogical habit of mind, as well as for his romantic and artistic temper and tastes. his father was a sea-faring man and a frenchman; his mother was a spanish creole of louisiana--the old chivalrous castilian blood modified by new world conditions. the father, through commercial channels, accumulated a large property in the island of st. domingo. in the course of his trading he made frequent journeys to louisiana, then the property of the french government. on one of these trips, probably, he married one of the native women, who is said to have possessed both wealth and beauty. the couple seem to have occupied for a time a plantation belonging to a french marquis, situated at mandeville on the north shore of lake pontchartrain. here three sons were born to them, of whom john james la forest was the third. the daughter seems to have been younger. his own mother perished in a slave insurrection in st. domingo, where the family had gone to live on the audubon estate at aux cayes, when her child was but a few months old. audubon says that his father with his plate and money and himself, attended by a few faithful servants, escaped to new orleans. what became of his sister he does not say, though she must have escaped with them, since we hear of her existence years later. not long after, how long we do not know, the father returned to france, where he married a second time, giving the son, as he himself says, the only mother he ever knew. this woman proved a rare exception among stepmothers--but she was too indulgent, and, audubon says, completely spoiled him, bringing him up to live like a gentleman, ignoring his faults and boasting of his merits, and leading him to believe that fine clothes and a full pocket were the most desirable things in life. this she was able to do all the more effectively because the father soon left the son in her charge and returned to the united states in the employ of the french government, and before long became attached to the army under la fayette. this could not have been later than , the year of cornwallis' surrender, and audubon would then have been twenty-one, but this does not square with his own statements. after the war the father still served some years in the french navy, but finally retired from active service and lived at la gerbétière in france, where he died at the age of ninety-five, in . audubon says of his mother: "let no one speak of her as my step-mother. i was ever to her as a son of her own flesh and blood and she was to me a true mother." with her he lived in the city of nantes, france, where he appears to have gone to school. it was, however, only from his private tutors that he says he got any benefit. his father desired him to follow in his footsteps, and he was educated accordingly, studying drawing, geography, mathematics, fencing, and music. mathematics he found hard dull work, as have so many men of like temperament, before and since, but music and fencing and geography were more to his liking. he was an ardent, imaginative youth, and chafed under all drudgery and routine. his foster-mother, in the absence of his father, suffered him to do much as he pleased, and he pleased to "play hookey" most of the time, joining boys of his own age and disposition, and deserting the school for the fields and woods, hunting birds' nests, fishing and shooting and returning home at night with his basket filled with various natural specimens and curiosities. the collecting fever is not a bad one to take possession of boys at this age. in his autobiography audubon relates an incident that occurred when he was a child, which he thinks first kindled his love for birds. it was an encounter between a pet parrot and a tame monkey kept by his mother. one morning the parrot, mignonne, asked as usual for her breakfast of bread and milk, whereupon the monkey, being in a bad humour, attacked the poor defenceless bird, and killed it. audubon screamed at the cruel sight, and implored the servant to interfere and save the bird, but without avail. the boy's piercing screams brought the mother, who succeeded in tranquillising the child. the monkey was chained, and the parrot buried, but the tragedy awakened in him a lasting love for his feathered friends. audubon's father seems to have been the first to direct his attention to the study of birds, and to the observance of nature generally. through him he learned to notice the beautiful colourings and markings of the birds, to know their haunts, and to observe their change of plumage with the changing seasons; what he learned of their mysterious migrations fired his imagination. he speaks of this early intimacy with nature as a feeling which bordered on frenzy. watching the growth of a bird from the egg he compares to the unfolding of a flower from the bud. the pain which he felt in seeing the birds die and decay was very acute, but, fortunately, about this time some one showed him a book of illustrations, and henceforth "a new life ran in my veins," he says. to copy nature was thereafter his one engrossing aim. that he realised how crude his early efforts were is shown by his saying: "my pencil gave birth to a family of cripples." his steady progress, too, is shown in his custom, on every birthday, of burning these 'crippled' drawings, then setting to work to make better, truer ones. his father returning from a sea voyage, probably when the son was about twenty years old, was not well pleased with the progress that the boy was making in his studies. one morning soon after, audubon found himself with his trunk and his belongings in a private carriage, beside his father, on his way to the city of rochefort. the father occupied himself with a book and hardly spoke to his son during the several days of the journey, though there was no anger in his face. after they were settled in their new abode, he seated his son beside him and taking one of his hands in his, calmly said: "my beloved boy, thou art now safe. i have brought thee here that i may be able to pay constant attention to thy studies; thou shalt have ample time for pleasures, but the remainder _must_ be employed with industry and care." but the father soon left him on some foreign mission for his government and the boy chafed as usual under his tasks and confinement. one day, too much mathematics drove him into making his escape by leaping from the window, and making off through the gardens attached to the school where he was confined. a watchful corporal soon overhauled him, however, and brought him back, where he was confined on board some sort of prison ship in the harbour. his father soon returned, when he was released, not without a severe reprimand. we next find him again in the city of nantes struggling with more odious mathematics, and spending all his leisure time in the fields and woods, studying the birds. about this time he began a series of drawings of the french birds, which grew to upwards of two hundred, all bad enough, he says, but yet real representations of birds, that gave him a certain pleasure. they satisfied his need of expression. at about this time, too, though the year we do not know, his father concluded to send him to the united states, apparently to occupy a farm called mill grove, which the father had purchased some years before, on the schuylkill river near philadelphia. in new york he caught the yellow fever: he was carefully nursed by two quaker ladies who kept a boarding house in morristown, new jersey. in due time his father's agent, miers fisher, also a quaker, removed him to his own villa near philadelphia, and here audubon seems to have remained some months. but the gay and ardent youth did not find the atmosphere of the place congenial. the sober quaker grey was not to his taste. his host was opposed to music of all kinds, and to dancing, hunting, fishing and nearly all other forms of amusement. more than that, he had a daughter between whom and audubon he apparently hoped an affection would spring up. but audubon took an unconquerable dislike to her. very soon, therefore, he demanded to be put in possession of the estate to which his father had sent him. of the month and year in which he entered upon his life at mill grove, we are ignorant. we know that he fell into the hands of another quaker, william thomas, who was the tenant on the place, but who, with his worthy wife, seems to have made life pleasant for him. he soon became attached to mill grove, and led a life there just suited to his temperament. "hunting, fishing, drawing, music, occupied my every moment; cares i knew not and cared naught about them. i purchased excellent and beautiful horses, visited all such neighbours as i found congenial spirits, and was as happy as happy could be." near him there lived an english family by the name of bakewell, but he had such a strong antipathy to the english that he postponed returning the call of mr. bakewell, who had left his card at mill grove during one of audubon's excursions to the woods. in the late fall or early winter, however, he chanced to meet mr. bakewell while out hunting grouse, and was so pleased with him and his well-trained dogs, and his good marksmanship, that he apologised for his discourtesy in not returning his call, and promised to do so forthwith. not many mornings thereafter he was seated in his neighbour's house. "well do i recollect the morning," he says in the autobiographical sketch which he prepared for his sons, "and may it please god that i never forget it, when for the first time i entered mr. bakewell's dwelling. it happened that he was absent from home, and i was shown into a parlour where only one young lady was snugly seated at her work by the fire. she rose on my entrance, offered me a seat, assured me of the gratification her father would feel on his return, which, she added, would be in a few moments, as she would despatch a servant for him. other ruddy cheeks and bright eyes made their transient appearance, but, like spirits gay, soon vanished from my sight; and there i sat, my gaze riveted, as it were, on the young girl before me, who, half working, half talking, essayed to make the time pleasant to me. oh! may god bless her! it was she, my dear sons, who afterwards became my beloved wife, and your mother. mr. bakewell soon made his appearance, and received me with the manner and hospitality of a true english gentleman. the other members of the family were soon introduced to me, and lucy was told to have luncheon produced. she now rose from her seat a second time, and her form, to which i had paid but partial attention, showed both grace and beauty; and my heart followed every one of her steps. the repast over, dogs and guns were made ready. "lucy, i was pleased to believe, looked upon me with some favour, and i turned more especially to her on leaving. i felt that certain '_je ne sais quoi_' which intimated that, at least, she was not indifferent to me." the winter that followed was a gay and happy one at mill grove; shooting parties, skating parties, house parties with the bakewell family, were of frequent occurrence. it was during one of these skating excursions upon the perkiomen in quest of wild ducks, that audubon had a lucky escape from drowning. he was leading the party down the river in the dusk of the evening, with a white handkerchief tied to a stick, when he came suddenly upon a large air hole into which, in spite of himself, his impetus carried him. had there not chanced to be another air hole a few yards below, our hero's career would have ended then and there. the current quickly carried him beneath the ice to this other opening where he managed to seize hold of the ice and to crawl out. his friendship with the bakewell family deepened. lucy taught audubon english, he taught her drawing, and their friendship very naturally ripened into love, which seems to have run its course smoothly. audubon was happy. he had ample means, and his time was filled with congenial pursuits. he writes in his journal: "i had no vices, but was thoughtless, pensive, loving, fond of shooting, fishing, and riding, and had a passion for raising all sorts of fowls, which sources of interest and amusement fully occupied my time. it was one of my fancies to be ridiculously fond of dress; to hunt in black satin breeches, wear pumps when shooting, and to dress in the finest ruffled shirts i could obtain from france." the evidences of vanity regarding his looks and apparel, sometimes found in his journal, are probably traceable to his foster-mother's unwise treatment of him in his youth. we have seen how his father's intervention in the nick of time exercised a salutary influence upon him at this point in his career, directing his attention to the more solid attainments. whatever traces of this self-consciousness and apparent vanity remained in after life, seem to have been more the result of a naïve character delighting in picturesqueness in himself as well as in nature, than they were of real vanity. in later years he was assuredly nothing of the dandy; he himself ridicules his youthful fondness for dress, while those who visited him during his last years speak of him as particularly lacking in self-consciousness. although he affected the dress of the dandies of his time, he was temperate and abstemious. "i ate no butcher's meat, lived chiefly on fruits, vegetables, and fish, and never drank a glass of spirits or wine until my wedding day." "all this time i was fair and rosy, strong and active as one of my age and sex could be, and as active and agile as a buck." that he was energetic and handy and by no means the mere dandy that his extravagance in dress might seem to indicate, is evidenced from the fact that about this time he made a journey on foot to new york and accomplished the ninety miles in three days in mid-winter. but he was angry, and anger is better than wine to walk on. the cause of his wrath was this; a lead mine had been discovered upon the farm of mill grove, and audubon had applied to his father for counsel in regard to it. in response, the elder audubon had sent over a man by the name of da costa who was to act as his son's partner and partial guardian--was to teach him mineralogy and mining engineering, and to look after his finances generally. but the man, audubon says, knew nothing of the subjects he was supposed to teach, and was, besides, "a covetous wretch, who did all he could to ruin my father, and, indeed, swindled both of us to a large amount." da costa pushed his authority so far as to object to audubon's proposed union with lucy bakewell, as being a marriage beneath him, and finally plotted to get the young man off to india. these things very naturally kindled audubon's quick temper, and he demanded of his tutor and guardian money enough to take him to france to consult with his father. da costa gave him a letter of credit on a sort of banker-broker residing in new york. to new york he accordingly went, as above stated, and found that the banker-broker was in the plot to pack him off to india. this disclosure kindled his wrath afresh. he says that had he had a weapon about him the banker's heart must have received the result of his wrath. his spanish blood began to declare itself. then he sought out a brother of mr. bakewell and the uncle of his sweetheart, and of him borrowed the money to take him to france. he took passage on a new bedford brig bound for nantes. the captain had recently been married and when the vessel reached the vicinity of new bedford, he discovered some dangerous leaks which necessitated a week's delay to repair damages. audubon avers that the captain had caused holes to be bored in the vessel's sides below the water line, to gain an excuse to spend a few more days with his bride. after a voyage of nineteen days the vessel entered the loire, and anchored in the lower harbour of nantes, and audubon was soon welcomed by his father and fond foster-mother. his first object was to have the man da costa disposed of, which he soon accomplished; the second, to get his father's consent to his marriage with lucy bakewell, which was also brought about in due time, although the parents of both agreed that they were "owre young to marry yet." audubon now remained two years in france, indulging his taste for hunting, rambling, and drawing birds and other objects of natural history. this was probably about the years and . france was under the sway of napoleon, and conscriptions were the order of the day. the elder audubon became uneasy lest his son be drafted into the french army; hence he resolved to send him back to america. in the meantime, he interested one rozier in the lead mine and had formed a partnership between him and his son, to run for nine years. in due course the two young men sailed for new york, leaving france at a time when thousands would have been glad to have followed their footsteps. on this voyage their vessel was pursued and overhauled by a british privateer, the _rattlesnake_, and nearly all their money and eatables were carried off, besides two of the ship's best sailors. audubon and rozier saved their gold by hiding it under a cable in the bow of the ship. on returning to mill grove, audubon resumed his former habits of life there. we hear no more of the lead mine, but more of his bird studies and drawings, the love of which was fast becoming his ruling passion. "before i sailed for france, i had begun a series of drawings of the birds of america, and had also begun a study of their habits. i at first drew my subject dead, by which i mean to say that after procuring a specimen, i hung it up, either by the head, wing, or foot, and copied it as closely as i could." even the hateful da costa had praised his bird pictures and had predicted great things for him in this direction. his words had given audubon a great deal of pleasure. mr. william bakewell, the brother of his lucy, has given us a glimpse of audubon and his surroundings at this time. "audubon took me to his house, where he and his companion, rozier, resided, with mrs. thomas for an attendant. on entering his room, i was astonished and delighted that it was turned into a museum. the walls were festooned with all sorts of birds' eggs, carefully blown out and strung on a thread. the chimney piece was covered with stuffed squirrels, raccoons and opossums; and the shelves around were likewise crowded with specimens, among which were fishes, frogs, snakes, lizards, and other reptiles. besides these stuffed varieties, many paintings were arrayed upon the walls, chiefly of birds. he had great skill in stuffing and preserving animals of all sorts. he had also a trick of training dogs with great perfection, of which art his famous dog zephyr was a wonderful example. he was an admirable marksman, an expert swimmer, a clever rider, possessed great activity, prodigious strength, and was notable for the elegance of his figure, and the beauty of his features, and he aided nature by a careful attendance to his dress. besides other accomplishments, he was musical, a good fencer, danced well, had some acquaintance with legerdemain tricks, worked in hair, and could plait willow baskets." he adds that audubon once swam across the schuylkill with him on his back. ii. audubon was now eager to marry, but mr. bakewell advised him first to study the mercantile business. this he accordingly set out to do by entering as a clerk the commercial house of benjamin bakewell in new york, while his friend rozier entered a french house in philadelphia. but audubon was not cut out for business; his first venture was in indigo, and cost him several hundred pounds. rozier succeeded no better; his first speculation was a cargo of hams shipped to the west indies which did not return one fifth of the cost. audubon's want of business habits is shown by the statement that at this time he one day posted a letter containing eight thousand dollars without sealing it. his heart was in the fields and woods with the birds. his room was filled with drying bird skins, the odour from which, it is said, became so strong that his neighbours sent a constable to him with a message to abate the nuisance. despairing of becoming successful business men in either new york or philadelphia, he and rozier soon returned to mill grove. during some of their commercial enterprises they had visited kentucky and thought so well of the outlook there that now their thoughts turned thitherward. here we get the first date from audubon; on april , , he and lucy bakewell were married. the plantation of mill grove had been previously sold, and the money invested in goods with which to open a store in louisville, kentucky. the day after the marriage, audubon and his wife and mr. rozier started on their journey. in crossing the mountains to pittsburg the coach in which they were travelling upset, and mrs. audubon was severely bruised. from pittsburg they floated down the ohio in a flatboat in company with several other young emigrant families. the voyage occupied twelve days and was no doubt made good use of by audubon in observing the wild nature along shore. in louisville, he and rozier opened a large store which promised well. but audubon's heart was more and more with the birds, and his business more and more neglected. rozier attended to the counter, and, audubon says, grew rich, but he himself spent most of the time in the woods or hunting with the planters settled about louisville, between whom and himself a warm attachment soon sprang up. he was not growing rich, but he was happy. "i shot, i drew, i looked on nature only," he says, "and my days were happy beyond human conception, and beyond this i really cared not." he says that the only part of the commercial business he enjoyed was the ever engaging journeys which he made to new york and philadelphia to purchase goods. these journeys led him through the "beautiful, the darling forests of ohio, kentucky, and pennsylvania," and on one occasion he says he lost sight of the pack horses carrying his goods and his dollars, in his preoccupation with a new warbler. during his residence in louisville, alexander wilson, his great rival in american ornithology, called upon him. this is audubon's account of the meeting: "one fair morning i was surprised by the sudden entrance into our counting room at louisville of mr. alexander wilson, the celebrated author of the american ornithology, of whose existence i had never until that moment been apprised. this happened in march, . how well do i remember him as he then walked up to me. his long, rather hooked nose, the keenness of his eyes, and his prominent cheek bones, stamped his countenance with a peculiar character. his dress, too, was of a kind not usually seen in that part of the country; a short coat, trousers and a waistcoat of grey cloth. his stature was not above the middle size. he had two volumes under his arm, and as he approached the table at which i was working, i thought i discovered something like astonishment in his countenance. he, however, immediately proceeded to disclose the object of his visit, which was to procure subscriptions for his work. he opened his books, explained the nature of his occupations, and requested my patronage. i felt surprised and gratified at the sight of his volumes, turned over a few of the plates, and had already taken my pen to write my name in his favour, when my partner rather abruptly said to me in french: 'my dear audubon, what induces you to subscribe to this work! your drawings are certainly far better; and again, you must know as much of the habits of american birds as this gentleman.' whether mr. wilson understood french or not, or if the suddenness with which i paused disappointed him, i cannot tell; but i clearly perceived he was not pleased. vanity, and the encomiums of my friend, prevented me from subscribing. mr. wilson asked me if i had many drawings of birds, i rose, took down a large portfolio, laid it on the table, and showed him as i would show you, kind reader, or any other person fond of such subjects, the whole of the contents, with the same patience, with which he had showed me his own engravings. his surprise appeared great, as he told me he had never had the most distant idea that any other individual than himself had been engaged in forming such a collection. he asked me if it was my intention to publish, and when i answered in the negative, his surprise seemed to increase. and, truly, such was not my intention; for, until long after, when i met the prince of musignano in philadelphia, i had not the least idea of presenting the fruits of my labours to the world. mr. wilson now examined my drawings with care, asked if i should have any objection to lending him a few during his stay, to which i replied that i had none. he then bade me good morning, not, however, until i had made an arrangement to explore the woods in the vicinity along with him, and had promised to procure for him some birds, of which i had drawings in my collection, but which he had never seen. it happened that he lodged in the same house with us, but his retired habits, i thought, exhibited a strong feeling of discontent, or a decided melancholy. the scotch airs which he played sweetly on his flute made me melancholy, too, and i felt for him. i presented him to my wife and friends, and seeing that he was all enthusiasm, exerted myself as much as was in my power to procure for him the specimens which he wanted. "we hunted together and obtained birds which he had never before seen; but, reader, i did not subscribe to his work, for, even at that time, my collection was greater than his. "thinking that perhaps he might be pleased to publish the results of my researches, i offered them to him, merely on condition that what i had drawn, or might afterward draw and send to him, should be mentioned in his work as coming from my pencil. i at the same time offered to open a correspondence with him, which i thought might prove beneficial to us both. he made no reply to either proposal, and before many days had elapsed, left louisville on his way to new orleans, little knowing how much his talents were appreciated in our little town, at least by myself and my friends." wilson's account of this meeting is in curious contrast to that of audubon. it is meagre and unsatisfactory. under date of march , he writes in his diary at louisville: "rambled around the town with my gun. examined mr. ----'s [audubon's] drawings in crayons--very good. saw two new birds he had, both _motacillae_." _march_ . "went out this afternoon shooting with mr. a. saw a number of sandhill cranes. pigeons numerous." finally, in winding up the record of his visit to louisville, he says, with palpable inconsistency, not to say falsehood, that he did not receive one act of civility there, nor see one new bird, and found no naturalist to keep him company. some years afterward, audubon hunted him up in philadelphia, and found him drawing a white headed eagle. he was civil, and showed audubon some attention, but "spoke not of birds or drawings." wilson was of a nature far less open and generous than was audubon. it is evident that he looked upon the latter as his rival, and was jealous of his superior talents; for superior they were in many ways. audubon's drawings have far more spirit and artistic excellence, and his text shows far more enthusiasm and hearty affiliation with nature. in accuracy of observation, wilson is fully his equal, if not his superior. as audubon had deserted his business, his business soon deserted him; he and his partner soon became discouraged (we hear no more about the riches rozier had acquired), and resolved upon moving their goods to hendersonville, kentucky, over one hundred miles further down the ohio. mrs. audubon and her baby son were sent back to her father's at fatland ford where they remained upwards of a year. business at hendersonville proved dull; the country was but thinly inhabited and only the coarsest goods were in demand. to procure food the merchants had to resort to fishing and hunting. they employed a clerk who proved a good shot; he and audubon supplied the table while rozier again stood behind the counter. how long the hendersonville enterprise lasted we do not know. another change was finally determined upon, and the next glimpse we get of audubon, we see him with his clerk and partner and their remaining stock in trade, consisting of three hundred barrels of whiskey, sundry dry goods and powder, on board a keel boat making their way down the ohio, in a severe snow storm, toward st. geneviève, a settlement on the mississippi river, where they proposed to try again. the boat is steered by a long oar, about sixty feet in length, made of the trunk of a slender tree, and shaped at its outer extremity like the fin of a dolphin; four oars in the bow propelled her, and with the current they made about five miles an hour. mrs. audubon, who seems to have returned from her father's, with her baby, or babies, was left behind at hendersonville with a friend, until the result of the new venture should be determined. in the course of six weeks, after many delays, and adventures with the ice and the cold, the party reached st. geneviève. audubon has given in his journal a very vivid and interesting account of this journey. at st. geneviève, the whiskey was in great demand, and what had cost them twenty-five cents a gallon, was sold for two dollars. but audubon soon became discouraged with the place and longed to be back in hendersonville with his family. he did not like the low bred french-canadians, who made up most of the population of the settlement. he sold out his interest in the business to his partner, who liked the place and the people, and here the two parted company. audubon purchased a fine horse and started over the prairies on his return trip to hendersonville. on this journey he came near being murdered by a woman and her two desperate sons who lived in a cabin on the prairies, where the traveller put up for the night. he has given a minute and graphic account of this adventure in his journal. the cupidity of the woman had been aroused by the sight of audubon's gold watch and chain. a wounded indian, who had also sought refuge in the shanty had put audubon upon his guard. it was midnight, audubon lay on some bear skins in one corner of the room, feigning sleep. he had previously slipped out of the cabin and had loaded his gun, which lay close at hand. presently he saw the woman sharpen a huge carving knife, and thrust it into the hand of her drunken son, with the injunction to kill yon stranger and secure the watch. he was just on the point of springing up to shoot his would-be murderers, when the door burst open, and two travellers, each with a long knife, appeared. audubon jumped up and told them his situation. the drunken sons and the woman were bound, and in the morning they were taken out into the woods and were treated as the regulators treated delinquents in those days. they were shot. whether audubon did any of the shooting or not, he does not say. but he aided and abetted, and his spanish blood must have tingled in his veins. then the cabin was set on fire, and the travellers proceeded on their way. it must be confessed that this story sounds a good deal like an episode in a dime novel, and may well be taken with a grain of allowance. did remote prairie cabins in those days have grindstones and carving knives? and why should the would-be murderers use a knife when they had guns? audubon reached hendersonville in early march, and witnessed the severe earthquake which visited that part of kentucky the following november, . of this experience we also have a vivid account in his journals. audubon continued to live at hendersonville, his pecuniary means much reduced. he says that he made a pedestrian tour back to st. geneviève to collect money due him from rozier, walking the one hundred and sixty-five miles, much of the time nearly ankle-deep in mud and water, in a little over three days. concerning the accuracy of this statement one also has his doubts. later he bought a "wild horse," and on its back travelled over tennessee and a portion of georgia, and so around to philadelphia, later returning to hendersonville. he continued his drawings of birds and animals, but, in the meantime, embarked in another commercial venture, and for a time prospered. some years previously he had formed a co-partnership with his wife's brother, and a commercial house in charge of bakewell had been opened in new orleans. this turned out disastrously and was a constant drain upon his resources. this partner now appears upon the scene at hendersonville and persuades audubon to erect, at a heavy outlay, a steam grist and saw mill, and to take into the firm an englishman by the name of pease. this enterprise brought fresh disaster. "how i laboured at this infernal mill, from dawn till dark, nay, at times all night." they also purchased a steamboat which was so much additional weight to drag them down. this was about the year . from this date till , audubon's pecuniary difficulties increased daily. he had no business talent whatever; he was a poet and an artist; he cared not for money, he wanted to be alone with nature. the forests called to him, the birds haunted his dreams. his father dying in , left him a valuable estate in france, and seventeen thousand dollars, deposited with a merchant in richmond, virginia; but audubon was so dilatory in proving his identity and his legal right to this cash, that the merchant finally died insolvent, and the legatee never received a cent of it. the french estate he transferred in after years to his sister rosa. iii. finally, audubon gave up the struggle of trying to be a business man. he says: "i parted with every particle of property i had to my creditors, keeping only the clothes i wore on that day, my original drawings, and my gun, and without a dollar in my pocket, walked to louisville alone." this he speaks of as the saddest of all his journeys--"the only time in my life when the wild turkeys that so often crossed my path, and the thousands of lesser birds that enlivened the woods and the prairies, all looked like enemies, and i turned my eyes from them, as if i could have wished that they had never existed." but the thought of his beloved lucy and her children soon spurred him to action. he was a good draughtsman, he had been a pupil of david, he would turn his talents to account. "as we were straightened to the very utmost, i undertook to draw portraits at the low price of five dollars per head, in black chalk. i drew a few gratis, and succeeded so well that ere many days had elapsed i had an abundance of work." his fame spread, his orders increased. a settler came for him in the middle of the night from a considerable distance to have the portrait of his mother taken while she was on the eve of death, and a clergyman had his child's body exhumed that the artist might restore to him the lost features. money flowed in and he was soon again established with his family in a house in louisville. his drawings of birds still continued and, he says, became at times almost a mania with him; he would frequently give up a head, the profits of which would have supplied the wants of his family a week or more, "to represent a little citizen of the feathered tribe." in he was offered the position of taxidermist in the museum at cincinnati, and soon moved there with his family. his pay not being forthcoming from the museum, he started a drawing school there, and again returned to his portraits. without these resources, he says, he would have been upon the starving list. but food was plentiful and cheap. he writes in his journal: "our living here is extremely moderate; the markets are well supplied and cheap, beef only two and one half cents a pound, and i am able to supply a good deal myself. partridges are frequently in the streets, and i can shoot wild turkeys within a mile or so. squirrels and woodcock are very abundant in the season, and fish always easily caught." in october, , we again find him adrift, apparently with thought of having his bird drawings published, after he shall have further added to them by going through many of the southern and western states. leaving his family behind him, he started for new orleans on a flatboat. he tarried long at natchez, and did not reach the crescent city till midwinter. again he found himself destitute of means, and compelled to resort to portrait painting. he went on with his bird collecting and bird painting; in the meantime penetrating the swamps and bayous around the city. at this time he seems to have heard of the publication of wilson's "ornithology," and tried in vain to get sight of a copy of it. in the spring he made an attempt to get an appointment as draughtsman and naturalist to a government expedition that was to leave the next year to survey the new territory ceded to the united states by spain. he wrote to president monroe upon the subject, but the appointment never came to him. in march he called upon vanderlyn, the historical painter, and took with him a portfolio of his drawings in hopes of getting a recommendation. vanderlyn at first treated him as a mendicant and ordered him to leave his portfolio in the entry. after some delay, in company with a government official, he consented to see the pictures. "the perspiration ran down my face," says audubon, "as i showed him my drawings and laid them on the floor." he was thinking of the expedition to mexico just referred to, and wanted to make a good impression upon vanderlyn and the officer. this he succeeded in doing, and obtained from the artist a very complimentary note, as he did also from governor robertson of louisiana. in june, audubon left new orleans for kentucky, to rejoin his wife and boys, but somewhere on the journey engaged himself to a mrs. perrie who lived at bayou sara, louisiana, to teach her daughter drawing during the summer, at sixty dollars per month, leaving him half of each day to follow his own pursuits. he continued in this position till october when he took steamer for new orleans. "my long, flowing hair, and loose yellow nankeen dress, and the unfortunate cut of my features, attracted much attention, and made me desire to be dressed like other people as soon as possible." he now rented a house in new orleans on dauphine street, and determined to send for his family. since he had left cincinnati the previous autumn, he had finished sixty-two drawings of birds and plants, three quadrupeds, two snakes, fifty portraits of all sorts, and had lived by his talents, not having had a dollar when he started. "i sent a draft to my wife, and began life in new orleans with forty-two dollars, health, and much eagerness to pursue my plan of collecting all the birds of america." his family, after strong persuasion, joined him in december, , and his former life of drawing portraits, giving lessons, painting birds, and wandering about the country, began again. his earnings proving inadequate to support the family, his wife took a position as governess in the family of a mr. brand. in the spring, acting upon the judgment of his wife, he concluded to leave new orleans again, and to try his fortunes elsewhere. he paid all his bills and took steamer for natchez, paying his passage by drawing a crayon portrait of the captain and his wife. on the trip up the mississippi, two hundred of his bird portraits were sorely damaged by the breaking of a bottle of gunpowder in the chest in which they were being conveyed. three times in his career he met with disasters to his drawings. on the occasion of his leaving hendersonville to go to philadelphia, he had put two hundred of his original drawings in a wooden box and had left them in charge of a friend. on his return, several months later, he pathetically recounts what befell them: "a pair of norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and reared a young family among gnawed bits of paper, which but a month previous, represented nearly one thousand inhabitants of the air!" this discovery resulted in insomnia, and a fearful heat in the head; for several days he seemed like one stunned, but his youth and health stood him in hand, he rallied, and, undaunted, again sallied forth to the woods with dog and gun. in three years' time his portfolio was again filled. the third catastrophe to some of his drawings was caused by a fire in a new york building in which his treasures were kept during his sojourn in europe. audubon had an eye for the picturesque in his fellow-men as well as for the picturesque in nature. on the levee in new orleans, he first met a painter whom he thus describes: "his head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of which might cope with those worn by the fair sex in ; his neck was exposed to the weather; the broad frill of a shirt, then fashionable, flopped about his breast, whilst an extraordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over the top of his coat. the latter was of a light green colour, harmonising well with a pair of flowing yellow nankeen trousers, and a pink waistcoat, from the bosom of which, amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the magnolia, protruded part of a young alligator, which seemed more anxious to glide through the muddy waters of a swamp than to spend its life swinging to and fro amongst folds of the finest lawn. the gentleman held in one hand a cage full of richly-plumed nonpareils, whilst in the other he sported a silk umbrella, on which i could plainly read 'stolen from i,' these words being painted in large white characters. he walked as if conscious of his own importance; that is, with a good deal of pomposity, singing, 'my love is but a lassie yet'; and that with such thorough imitation of the scotch emphasis that had not his physiognomy suggested another parentage, i should have believed him to be a genuine scot. a narrower acquaintance proved him to be a yankee; and anxious to make his acquaintance, i desired to see his birds. he retorted, 'what the devil did i know about birds?' i explained to him that i was a naturalist, whereupon he requested me to examine his birds. i did so with much interest, and was preparing to leave, when he bade me come to his lodgings and see the remainder of his collection. this i willingly did, and was struck with amazement at the appearance of his studio. several cages were hung about the walls, containing specimens of birds, all of which i examined at my leisure. on a large easel before me stood an unfinished portrait, other pictures hung about, and in the room were two young pupils; and at a glance i discovered that the eccentric stranger was, like myself, a naturalist and an artist. the artist, as modest as he was odd, showed me how he laid on the paint on his pictures, asked after my own pursuits, and showed a friendly spirit which enchanted me. with a ramrod for a rest, he prosecuted his work vigorously, and afterwards asked me to examine a percussion lock on his gun, a novelty to me at the time. he snapped some caps, and on my remarking that he would frighten his birds, he exclaimed, 'devil take the birds, there are more of them in the market.' he then loaded his gun, and wishing to show me that he was a marksman, fired at one of the pins on his easel. this he smashed to pieces, and afterward put a rifle bullet exactly through the hole into which the pin fitted." audubon reached natchez on march , , and remained there and in the vicinity till the spring of , teaching drawing and french to private pupils and in the college at washington, nine miles distant, hunting, and painting the birds, and completing his collection. among other things he painted the "death of montgomery" from a print. his friends persuaded him to raffle the picture off. this he did, and taking one number himself, won the picture, while his finances were improved by three hundred dollars received for the tickets. early in the autumn his wife again joined him, and presently we find her acting as governess in the home of a clergyman named davis. in december, there arrived in natchez a wandering portrait painter named stein, who gave audubon his first lessons in the use of oil colours, and was instructed by audubon in turn in chalk drawing. there appear to have been no sacrifices that mrs. audubon was not willing and ready to make to forward the plans of her husband. "my best friends," he says at this time, "solemnly regarded me as a mad man, and my wife and family alone gave me encouragement. my wife determined that my genius should prevail, and that my final success as an ornithologist should be triumphant." she wanted him to go to europe, and, to assist toward that end, she entered into an engagement with a mrs. percy of bayou sara, to instruct her children, together with her own, and a limited number of outside pupils. audubon, in the meantime, with his son victor, and his new artist friend, stein, started off in a wagon, seeking whom they might paint, on a journey through the southern states. they wandered as far as new orleans, but audubon appears to have returned to his wife again in may, and to have engaged in teaching her pupils music and drawing. but something went wrong, there was a misunderstanding with the percys, and audubon went back to natchez, revolving various schemes in his head, even thinking of again entering upon mercantile pursuits in louisville. he had no genius for accumulating money nor for keeping it after he had gotten it. one day when his affairs were at a very low ebb, he met a squatter with a tame black wolf which took audubon's fancy. he says that he offered the owner a hundred dollar bill for it on the spot, but was refused. he probably means to say that he would have offered it had he had it. hundred dollar bills, i fancy, were rarer than tame black wolves in that pioneer country in those days. about this time he and his son victor were taken with yellow fever, and mrs. audubon was compelled to dismiss her school and go to nurse them. they both recovered, and, in october ( ), set out for louisville, making part of the journey on foot. the following winter was passed at shipping port, near louisville, where audubon painted birds, landscapes, portraits and even signs. in march he left shipping port for philadelphia, leaving his son victor in the counting house of a mr. berthoud. he reached philadelphia on april , and remained there till the following august, studying painting, exhibiting his birds, making many new acquaintances, among them charles lucien bonaparte, giving lessons in drawing at thirty dollars per month, all the time casting wistful eyes toward europe, whither he hoped soon to be able to go with his drawings. in july he made a pilgrimage to mill grove where he had passed so many happy years. the sight of the old familiar scenes filled him with the deepest emotions. in august he left philadelphia for new york, hoping to improve his finances, and, may be, publish his drawings in that city. at this time he had two hundred sheets, and about one thousand birds. while there he again met vanderlyn and examined his pictures, but says that he was not impressed with the idea that vanderlyn was a great painter. the birds that he saw in the museum in new york appeared to him to be set up in unnatural and constrained attitudes. with dr. de kay he visited the lyceum, and his drawings were examined by members of the institute. among them he felt awkward and uncomfortable. "i feel that i am strange to all but the birds of america," he said. as most of the persons to whom he had letters of introduction were absent, and as his spirits soon grew low, he left on the fifteenth for albany. here he found his money low also. abandoning the idea of visiting boston, he took passage on a canal boat for rochester. his fellow-passengers on the boat were doubtful whether he was a government officer, commissioner, or spy. at that time rochester had only five thousand inhabitants. after a couple of days he went on to buffalo and, he says, wrote under his name at the hotel this sentence: "who, like wilson, will ramble, but never, like that great man, die under the lash of a bookseller." he visited niagara, and gives a good account of the impressions which the cataract made upon him. he did not cross the bridge to goat island on account of the low state of his funds. in buffalo he obtained a good dinner of bread and milk for twelve cents, and went to bed cheering himself with thoughts of other great men who had encountered greater hardships and had finally achieved fame. he soon left buffalo, taking a deck passage on a schooner bound for erie, furnishing his own bed and provisions and paying a fare of one dollar and a half. from erie he and a fellow-traveller hired a man and cart to take them to meadville, paying their entertainers over night with music and portrait drawing. reaching meadville, they had only one dollar and a half between them, but soon replenished their pockets by sketching some of the leading citizens. audubon's belief in himself helped him wonderfully. he knew that he had talents, he insisted on using them. most of his difficulties came from trying to do the things he was not fitted to do. he did not hesitate to use his talents in a humble way, when nothing else offered--portraits, landscapes, birds and animals he painted, but he would paint the cabin walls of the ship to pay his passage, if he was short of funds, or execute crayon portraits of a shoemaker and his wife, to pay for shoes to enable him to continue his journeys. he could sleep on a steamer's deck, with a few shavings for a bed, and, wrapped in a blanket, look up at the starlit sky, and give thanks to a providence that he believed was ever guarding and guiding him. early in september he left for pittsburg where he spent one month scouring the country for birds and continuing his drawings. in october, he was on his way down the ohio in a skiff, in company with "a doctor, an artist and an irishman." the weather was rainy, and at wheeling his companions left the boat in disgust. he sold his skiff and continued his voyage to cincinnati in a keel boat. here he obtained a loan of fifteen dollars and took deck passage on a boat to louisville, going thence to shipping port to see his son victor. in a few days he was off for bayou sara to see his wife, and with a plan to open a school there. "i arrived at bayou sara with rent and wasted clothes, and uncut hair, and altogether looking like the wandering jew." in his haste to reach his wife and child at mr. percy's, a mile or more distant through the woods, he got lost in the night, and wandered till daylight before he found the house. he found his wife had prospered in his absence, and was earning nearly three thousand dollars a year, with which she was quite ready to help him in the publication of his drawings. he forthwith resolved to see what he could do to increase the amount by his own efforts. receiving an offer to teach dancing, he soon had a class of sixty organised. but the material proved so awkward and refractory that the master in his first lesson broke his bow and nearly ruined his violin in his excitement and impatience. then he danced to his own music till the whole room came down in thunders of applause. the dancing lessons brought him two thousand dollars; this sum, together with his wife's savings, enabled him to foresee a successful issue to his great ornithological work. on may, , he embarked at new orleans on board the ship _delos_ for liverpool. his journal kept during this voyage abounds in interesting incidents and descriptions. he landed at liverpool, july , and delivered some of his letters of introduction. he soon made the acquaintance of mr. rathbone, mr. roscoe, mr. baring, and lord stanley. lord stanley said in looking over his drawings: "this work is unique, and deserves the patronage of the crown." in a letter to his wife at this time, audubon said: "i am cherished by the most notable people in and around liverpool, and have obtained letters of introduction to baron humboldt, sir walter scott, sir humphry davy, sir thomas lawrence, hannah more, miss edgeworth, and your distinguished cousin, robert bakewell." mark his courtesy to his wife in this gracious mention of her relative--a courtesy which never forsook him--a courtesy which goes far toward retaining any woman's affection. his paintings were put on exhibition in the rooms of the royal institution, an admittance of one shilling being charged. from this source he soon realised a hundred pounds. he then went to edinburgh, carrying letters of introduction to many well known literary and scientific men, among them francis jeffrey and "christopher north." professor jameson, the scotch naturalist, received him coldly, and told him, among other things, that there was no chance of his seeing sir walter scott--he was too busy. "_not see sir walter scott_?" thought i; "i shall, if i have to crawl on all fours for a mile." on his way up in the stage coach he had passed near sir walter's seat, and had stood up and craned his neck in vain to get a glimpse of the home of a man to whom, he says, he was indebted for so much pleasure. he and scott were in many ways kindred spirits, men native to the open air, inevitable sportsmen, copious and romantic lovers and observers of all forms and conditions of life. of course he will want to see scott, and scott will want to see him, if he once scents his real quality. later, professor jameson showed audubon much kindness and helped to introduce him to the public. in january, the opportunity to see scott came to him. "_january , monday_. i was painting diligently when captain hall came in, and said: 'put on your coat, and come with me to sir walter scott; he wishes to see you _now_.' in a moment i was ready, for i really believe my coat and hat came to me instead of my going to them. my heart trembled; i longed for the meeting, yet wished it over. had not his wondrous pen penetrated my soul with the consciousness that here was a genius from god's hand? i felt overwhelmed at the thought of meeting sir walter, the great unknown. we reached the house, and a powdered waiter was asked if sir walter were in. we were shown forward at once, and entering a very small room captain hall said: 'sir walter, i have brought mr. audubon.' sir walter came forward, pressed my hand warmly, and said he was 'glad to have the honour of meeting me.' his long, loose, silvery locks struck me; he looked like franklin at his best. he also reminded me of benjamin west; he had the great benevolence of william roscoe about him and a kindness most prepossessing. i could not forbear looking at him, my eyes feasted on his countenance. i watched his movements as i would those of a celestial being; his long, heavy, white eyebrows struck me forcibly. his little room was tidy, though it partook a good deal of the character of a laboratory. he was wrapped in a quilted morning-gown of light purple silk; he had been at work writing on the 'life of napoleon.' he writes close lines, rather curved as they go from left to right, and puts an immense deal on very little paper. after a few minutes had elapsed, he begged captain hall to ring a bell; a servant came and was asked to bid miss scott come to see mr. audubon. miss scott came, black haired and black-dressed, not handsome but said to be highly accomplished, and she is the daughter of sir walter scott. there was much conversation. i talked but little, but, believe me, i listened and observed, careful if ignorant. i cannot write more now. i have just returned from the royal society. knowing that i was a candidate for the electorate of the society, i felt very uncomfortable and would gladly have been hunting on tawapatee bottom." it may be worth while now to see what scott thought of audubon. under the same date, sir walter writes in his journal as follows: "_january_ , . a visit from basil hall, with mr. audubon, the ornithologist, who has followed the pursuit by many a long wandering in the american forests. he is an american by naturalisation, a frenchman by birth; but less of a frenchman than i have ever seen--no dust or glimmer, or shine about him, but great simplicity of manners and behaviour; slight in person and plainly dressed; wears long hair, which time has not yet tinged; his countenance acute, handsome, and interesting, but still simplicity is the predominant characteristic. i wish i had gone to see his drawings; but i had heard so much about them that i resolved not to see them--'a crazy way of mine, your honour.'" two days later audubon again saw scott, and writes in his journal as follows: "_january _. my second visit to sir walter scott was much more agreeable than my first. my portfolio and its contents were matters on which i could speak substantially, and i found him so willing to level himself with me for awhile that the time spent at his home was agreeable and valuable. his daughter improved in looks the moment she spoke, having both vivacity and good sense." scott's impressions of the birds as recorded in his journal, was that the drawings were of the first order, but he thought that the aim at extreme correctness and accuracy made them rather stiff. in february audubon met scott again at the opening of the exhibition at the rooms of the royal institution. "_tuesday, february _. this was the grand, long promised, and much wished-for day of the opening of the exhibition at the rooms of the royal institution. at one o'clock i went, the doors were just opened, and in a few minutes the rooms were crowded. sir walter scott was present; he came towards me, shook my hand cordially, and pointing to landseer's picture said: 'many such scenes, mr. audubon, have i witnessed in my younger days.' we talked much of all about us, and i would gladly have joined him in a glass of wine, but my foolish habits prevented me, and after inquiring of his daughter's health, i left him, and shortly afterwards the rooms; for i had a great appetite, and although there were tables loaded with delicacies, and i saw the ladies particularly eating freely, i must say to my shame i dared not lay my fingers on a single thing. in the evening i went to the theatre where i was much amused by 'the comedy of errors,' and afterwards, 'the green room.' i admire miss neville's singing very much; and her manners also; there is none of the actress about her, but much of the lady." audubon somewhere says of himself that he was "temperate to an intemperate degree"--the accounts in later years show that he became less strict in this respect. he would not drink with sir walter scott at this time, but he did with the texan houston and with president andrew jackson, later on. in september we find him exhibiting his pictures in manchester, but without satisfactory results. in the lobby of the exchange where his pictures were on exhibition, he overheard one man say to another: "pray, have you seen mr. audubon's collection of birds? i am told it is well worth a shilling; suppose we go now." "pah! it is all a hoax; save your shilling for better use. i have seen them; the fellow ought to be drummed out of town." in , in edinburgh, he seems to have issued a prospectus for his work, and to have opened books of subscription, and now a publisher, mr. lizars, offers to bring out the first number of "birds of america," and on november , the first proof of the first engraving was shown him, and he was pleased with it. with a specimen number he proposed to travel about the country in quest of subscribers until he had secured three hundred. in his journal under date of december , he says: "my success in edinburgh borders on the miraculous. my book is to be published in numbers containing four [in another place he says five] birds in each, the size of life, in a style surpassing anything now existing, at two guineas a number. the engravings are truly beautiful; some of them have been coloured, and are now on exhibition." audubon's journal, kept during his stay in edinburgh, is copious, graphic, and entertaining. it is a mirror of everything he saw and felt. among others he met george combe, the phrenologist, author of the once famous _constitution of man_, and he submitted to having his head "looked at." the examiner said: "there cannot exist a moment of doubt that this gentleman is a painter, colourist, and compositor, and, i would add, an amiable though quick tempered man." audubon was invited to the annual feast given by the antiquarian society at the waterloo hotel, at which lord elgin presided. after the health of many others had been drunk, audubon's was proposed by skene, a scottish historian. "whilst he was engaged in a handsome panegyric, the perspiration poured from me. i thought i should faint." but he survived the ordeal and responded in a few appropriate words. he was much dined and wined, and obliged to keep late hours--often getting no more than four hours sleep, and working hard painting and writing all the next day. he often wrote in his journals for his wife to read later, bidding her good-night, or rather good-morning, at three a.m. audubon had the bashfulness and awkwardness of the backwoodsman, and doubtless the naiveté and picturesqueness also; these traits and his very great merits as a painter of wild life, made him a favourite in edinburgh society. one day he went to read a paper on the crow to dr. brewster, and was so nervous and agitated that he had to pause for a moment in the midst of it. he left the paper with dr. brewster and when he got it back again was much shocked: "he had greatly improved the style (for i had none), but he had destroyed the matter." during these days audubon was very busy writing, painting, receiving callers, and dining out. he grew very tired of it all at times, and longed for the solitude of his native woods. some days his room was a perfect levee. "it is mr. audubon here, and mr. audubon there; i only hope they will not make a conceited fool of mr. audubon at last." there seems to have been some danger of this, for he says: "i seem in a measure to have gone back to my early days of society and fine dressing, silk stockings and pumps, and all the finery with which i made a popinjay of myself in my youth.... i wear my hair as long as usual, i believe it does as much for me as my paintings." he wrote to thomas sully of philadelphia, promising to send him his first number, to be presented to the philadelphia society--"an institution which thought me unworthy to be a member," he writes. about this time he was a guest for a day or two of earl morton, at his estate dalmahoy, near edinburgh. he had expected to see an imposing personage in the great chamberlain to the late queen charlotte. what was his relief and surprise, then, to see a "small, slender man, tottering on his feet, weaker than a newly hatched partridge," who welcomed him with tears in his eyes. the countess, "a fair, fresh-complexioned woman, with dark, flashing eyes," wrote her name in his subscription book, and offered to pay the price in advance. the next day he gave her a lesson in drawing. on his return to edinburgh he dined with captain hall, to meet francis jeffrey. "jeffrey is a little man," he writes, "with a serious face and dignified air. he looks both shrewd and cunning, and talks with so much volubility he is rather displeasing.... mrs. jeffrey was nervous and very much dressed." early in january he painted his "pheasant attacked by a fox." this was his method of proceeding: "i take one [a fox] neatly killed, put him up with wires, and when satisfied with the truth of the position, i take my palette and work as rapidly as possible; the same with my birds. if practicable, i finish the bird at one sitting,--often, it is true, of fourteen hours,--so that i think they are correct, both in detail and in composition." in pictures by landseer and other artists which he saw in the galleries of edinburgh, he saw the skilful painter, "the style of men who know how to handle a brush, and carry a good effect," but he missed that closeness and fidelity to nature which to him so much outweighed mere technique. landseer's "death of a stag" affected him like a farce. it was pretty, but not real and true. he did not feel that way about the sermon he heard sydney smith preach: "it was a sermon to _me_. he made me smile and he made me think deeply. he pleased me at times by painting my foibles with due care, and again i felt the colour come to my cheeks as he portrayed my sins." later, he met sydney smith and his "fair daughter," and heard the latter sing. afterwards he had a note from the famous divine upon which he remarks: "the man should study economy; he would destroy more paper in a day than franklin would in a week; but all great men are more or less eccentric. walter scott writes a diminutive hand, very difficult to read, napoleon a large scrawling one, still more difficult, and sydney smith goes up hill all the way with large strides." having decided upon visiting london, he yielded to the persuasions of his friends and had his hair cut before making the trip. he chronicles the event in his journal as a very sad one, in which "the will of god was usurped by the wishes of man." shorn of his locks he probably felt humbled like the stag when he loses his horns. quitting edinburgh on april , he visited, in succession, newcastle, leeds, york, shrewsbury, and manchester, in quest of subscribers to his great work. a few were obtained at each place at two hundred pounds per head. at newcastle he first met bewick, the famous wood engraver, and conceived a deep liking for him. we find him in london on may , , and not in a very happy frame of mind: "to me london is just like the mouth of an immense monster, guarded by millions of sharp-edged teeth, from which, if i escape unhurt, it must be called a miracle." it only filled him with a strong desire to be in his beloved woods again. his friend, basil hall, had insisted upon his procuring a black suit of clothes. when he put this on to attend his first dinner party, he spoke of himself as "attired like a mournful raven," and probably more than ever wished himself in the woods. he early called upon the great portrait painter, sir thomas lawrence, who inspected his drawings, pronounced them "very clever," and, in a few days, brought him several purchasers for some of his animal paintings, thus replenishing his purse with nearly one hundred pounds. considering audubon's shy disposition, and his dread of persons in high places, it is curious that he should have wanted to call upon the king, and should have applied to the american minister, mr. gallatin, to help him to do so. mr. gallatin laughed and said: "it is impossible, my dear sir, the king sees nobody; he has the gout, is peevish, and spends his time playing whist at a shilling a rubber. i had to wait six weeks before i was presented to him in my position of ambassador." but his work was presented to the king who called it fine, and his majesty became a subscriber on the usual terms. other noble persons followed suit, yet audubon was despondent. he had removed the publication of his work from edinburgh to london, from the hands of mr. lizars into those of robert havell. but the enterprise did not prosper, his agents did not attend to business, nor to his orders, and he soon found himself at bay for means to go forward with the work. at this juncture he determined to make a sortie for the purpose of collecting his dues and to add to his subscribers. he visited leeds, york, and other towns. under date of october , at york, he writes in his journal: "how often i thought during these visits of poor alexander wilson. then travelling as i am now, to procure subscribers he, as well as myself, was received with rude coldness, and sometimes with that arrogance which belongs to _parvenus."_ a week or two later we find him again in edinburgh where he breakfasted with professor wilson ("christopher north"), whom he greatly enjoyed, a man without stiffness or ceremonies: "no cravat, no waistcoat, but a fine frill of his own profuse beard, his hair flowing uncontrolled, and his speech dashing at once at the object in view, without circumlocution.... he gives me comfort by being comfortable himself." in early november he took the coach for glasgow, he and three other passengers making the entire journey without uttering a single word: "we sat like so many owls of different species, as if afraid of one another." four days in glasgow and only one subscriber. early in january he is back in london arranging with mr. havell for the numbers to be engraved in . one day on looking up to the new moon he saw a large flock of wild ducks passing over, then presently another flock passed. the sight of these familiar objects made him more homesick than ever. he often went to regent's park to see the trees, and the green grass, and to hear the sweet notes of the black birds and starlings. the black birds' note revived his drooping spirits: to his wife he writes, "it carries my mind to the woods around thee, my lucy." now and then a subscriber withdrew his name, which always cut him to the quick, but did not dishearten him. "_january _. i received a letter from d. lizars to-day announcing to me the loss of four subscribers; but these things do not dampen my spirits half so much as the smoke of london. i am as dull as a beetle." in february he learned that it was sir thomas lawrence who prevented the british museum from subscribing to his work: "he considered the drawings so-so, and the engraving and colouring bad; when i remember how he praised these same drawings _in my presence,_ i wonder--that is all." the rudest man he met in england was the earl of kinnoul: "a small man with a face like the caricature of an owl." he sent for audubon to tell him that all his birds were alike, and that he considered his work a swindle. "he may really think this, his knowledge is probably small; but it is not the custom to send for a gentleman to abuse him in one's own house." audubon heard his words, bowed and left him without speaking. in march he went to cambridge and met and was dined by many learned men. the university, through its librarian, subscribed for his work. other subscriptions followed. he was introduced to a judge who wore a wig that "might make a capital bed for an osage indian during the whole of a cold winter on the arkansas river." on his way to oxford he saw them turn a stag from a cart "before probably a hundred hounds and as many huntsmen. a curious land, and a curious custom, to catch an animal and then set it free merely to catch it again." at oxford he received much attention, but complains that not one of the twenty-two colleges subscribed for his work, though two other institutions did. early in april we find him back in london lamenting over his sad fate in being compelled to stay in so miserable a place. he could neither write nor draw to his satisfaction amid the "bustle, filth, and smoke." his mind and heart turned eagerly toward america, and to his wife and boys, and he began seriously to plan for a year's absence from england. he wanted to renew and to improve about fifty of his drawings. during this summer of , he was very busy in london, painting, writing, and superintending the colouring of his plates. under date of august , he writes in his journal: "i have been at work from four every morning until dark; i have kept up my large correspondence. my publication goes on well and regularly, and this very day seventy sets have been distributed, yet the number of my subscribers has not increased; on the contrary, i have lost some." he made the acquaintance of swainson, and the two men found much companionship in each other, and had many long talks about birds: "why, lucy, thou wouldst think that birds were all that we cared for in this world, but thou knowest this is not so." together he and mr. and mrs. swainson planned a trip to paris, which they carried out early in september. it tickled audubon greatly to find that the frenchman at the office in calais, who had never seen him, had described his complexion in his passport as copper red, because he was an american, all americans suggesting aborigines. in paris they early went to call upon baron cuvier. they were told that he was too busy to be seen: "being determined to look at the great man, we waited, knocked again, and with a certain degree of firmness, sent in our names. the messenger returned, bowed, and led the way up stairs, where in a minute monsieur le baron, like an excellent good man, came to us. he had heard much of my friend swainson, and greeted him as he deserves to be greeted; he was polite and kind to me, though my name had never made its way to his ears. i looked at him and here follows the result: age about sixty-five; size corpulent, five feet five english measure; head large, face wrinkled and brownish; eyes grey, brilliant and sparkling; nose aquiline, large and red; mouth large with good lips; teeth few, blunted by age, excepting one on the lower jaw, _measuring nearly three-quarters of an inch square._" the italics are not audubon's. the great naturalist invited his callers to dine with him at six on the next saturday. they next presented their letter to geoffroy de st. hilaire, with whom they were particularly pleased. neither had he ever heard of audubon's work. the dinner with cuvier gave him a nearer view of the manners and habits of the great man. "there was not the show of opulence at this dinner that is seen in the same rank of life in england, no, not by far, but it was a good dinner served _à la française._" neither was it followed by the "drinking matches" of wine, so common at english tables. during his stay in paris audubon saw much of cuvier, and was very kindly and considerately treated by him. one day he accompanied a portrait painter to his house and saw him sit for his portrait: "i see the baron now, quite as plainly as i did this morning,--an old green surtout about him, a neckcloth that would have wrapped his whole body if unfolded, loosely tied about his chin, and his silver locks looking like those of a man who loves to study books better than to visit barbers." audubon remained in paris till near the end of october, making the acquaintance of men of science and of artists, and bringing his work to the attention of those who were likely to value it. baron cuvier reported favourably upon it to the academy of sciences, pronouncing it "the most magnificent monument which has yet been erected to ornithology." he obtained thirteen subscribers in france and spent forty pounds. on november , he is back in london, and soon busy painting, and pressing forward the engraving and colouring of his work. the eleventh number was the first for the year . the winter was largely taken up in getting ready for his return trip to america. he found a suitable agent to look after his interests, collected some money, paid all his debts, and on april sailed from portsmouth in the packet ship _columbia_. he was sea-sick during the entire voyage, and reached new york may . he did not hasten to his family as would have been quite natural after so long an absence, but spent the summer and part of the fall in new jersey and pennsylvania, prosecuting his studies and drawings of birds, making his headquarters in camden, new jersey. he spent six weeks in the great pine forest, and much time at great egg harbor, and has given delightful accounts of these trips in his journals. four hours' sleep out of the twenty-four was his allotted allowance. one often marvels at audubon's apparent indifference to his wife and his home, for from the first he was given to wandering. then, too, his carelessness in money matters, and his improvident ways, necessitating his wife's toiling to support the family, put him in a rather unfavourable light as a "good provider," but a perusal of his journal shows that he was keenly alive to all the hardships and sacrifices of his wife, and from first to last in his journeyings he speaks of his longings for home and family. "cut off from all dearest me," he says in one of his youthful journeys, and in his latest one he speaks of himself as being as happy as one can be who is "three thousand miles from the dearest friend on earth." clearly some impelling force held him to the pursuit of this work, hardships or no hardships. fortunately for him, his wife shared his belief in his talents and in their ultimate recognition. under date of october , , he writes: "i am at work and have done much, but i wish i had eight pairs of hands, and another body to shoot the specimens; still i am delighted at what i have accumulated in drawings this season. forty-two drawings in four months, eleven large, eleven middle size, and twenty-two small, comprising ninety-five birds, from eagles downwards, with plants, nests, flowers, and sixty different kinds of eggs. i live alone, see scarcely anyone besides those belonging to the house where i lodge. i rise long before day, and work till nightfall, when i take a walk and to bed." audubon's capacity for work was extraordinary. his enthusiasm and perseverance were equally extraordinary. his purposes and ideas fairly possessed him. never did a man consecrate himself more fully to the successful completion of the work of his life, than did audubon to the finishing of his "american ornithology." during this month audubon left camden and turned his face toward his wife and children, crossing the mountains to pittsburg in the mail coach with his dog and gun, thence down the ohio in a steamboat to louisville, where he met his son victor, whom he had not seen for five years. after a few days here with his two boys, he started for bayou sara to see his wife. beaching mr. johnson's house in the early morning, he went at once to his wife's apartment: "her door was ajar, already she was dressed and sitting by her piano, on which a young lady was playing. i pronounced her name gently, she saw me, and the next moment i held her in my arms. her emotion was so great i feared i had acted rashly, but tears relieved our hearts, once more we were together." mrs. audubon soon settled up her affairs at bayou sara, and the two set out early in january, , for louisville, thence to cincinnati, thence to wheeling, and so on to washington, where audubon exhibited his drawings to the house of representatives and received their subscriptions as a body. in washington, he met the president, andrew jackson, and made the acquaintance of edward everett. thence to baltimore where he obtained three more subscribers, thence to new york from which port he sailed in april with his wife on the packet ship pacific, for england, and arrived at liverpool in twenty-five days. this second sojourn in england lasted till the second of august, . the time was occupied in pushing the publication of his "birds," canvassing the country for new subscribers, painting numerous pictures for sale, writing his "ornithological biography," living part of the time in edinburgh, and part of the time in london, with two or three months passed in france, where there were fourteen subscribers. while absent in america, he had been elected a fellow of the royal society of london, and on may took his seat in the great hall. he needed some competent person to assist him in getting his manuscript ready for publication and was so fortunate as to obtain the services of macgillivray, the biographer of british birds. audubon had learned that three editions of wilson's "ornithology" were soon to be published in edinburgh, and he set to work vigorously to get his book out before them. assisted by macgillivray, he worked hard at his biography of the birds, writing all day, and mrs. audubon making a copy of the work to send to america to secure copyright there. writing to her sons at this time, mrs. audubon says: "nothing is heard but the steady movement of the pen; your father is up and at work before dawn, and writes without ceasing all day." when the first volume was finished, audubon offered it to two publishers, both of whom refused it, so he published it himself in march, . in april on his way to london he travelled "on that extraordinary road called the railway, at the rate of twenty-four miles an hour." the first volume of his bird pictures was completed this summer, and, in bringing it out, forty thousand dollars had passed through his hands. it had taken four years to bring that volume before the world, during which time no less than fifty of his subscribers, representing the sum of fifty-six thousand dollars, had abandoned him, so that at the end of that time, he had only one hundred and thirty names standing on his list. it was no easy thing to secure enough men to pledge themselves to $ , for a work, the publication of which must of necessity extend over eight or ten years. few enterprises, involving such labour and expense, have ever been carried through against such odds. the entire cost of the "birds" exceeded one hundred thousand dollars, yet the author never faltered in this gigantic undertaking. on august , audubon and his wife sailed for america, and landed in new york on september . they at once went to louisville where the wife remained with her sons, while the husband went to florida where the winter of - was spent, prosecuting his studies of our birds. his adventures and experiences in florida, he has embodied in his floridian episodes, "the live oakers," "spring garden," "deer hunting," "sandy island," "the wreckers," "the turtles," "death of a pirate," and other sketches. stopping at charleston, south carolina, on this southern trip, he made the acquaintance of the reverend john bachman, and a friendship between these two men was formed that lasted as long as they both lived. subsequently, audubon's sons, victor and john, married dr. bachman's two eldest daughters. in the summer of , audubon, accompanied by his wife and two sons, made a trip to maine and new brunswick, going very leisurely by private conveyance through these countries, studying the birds, the people, the scenery, and gathering new material for his work. his diaries give minute accounts of these journeyings. he was impressed by the sobriety of the people of maine; they seem to have had a "maine law" at that early date; "for on asking for brandy, rum, or whiskey, not a drop could i obtain." he saw much of the lumbermen and was a deeply interested spectator of their ways and doings. some of his best descriptive passages are contained in these diaries. in october he is back in boston planning a trip to labrador, and intent on adding more material to his "birds" by another year in his home country. that his interests abroad in the meantime might not suffer by being entirely in outside hands, he sent his son victor, now a young man of considerable business experience, to england to represent him there. the winter of and audubon seems to have spent mainly in boston, drawing and re-drawing and there he had his first serious illness. in the spring of , a schooner was chartered and, accompanied by five young men, his youngest son, john woodhouse, among them, audubon started on his labrador trip, which lasted till the end of summer. it was an expensive and arduous trip, but was greatly enjoyed by all hands, and was fruitful in new material for his work. seventy-three bird skins were prepared, many drawings made, and many new plants collected. the weather in labrador was for the most part rainy, foggy, cold, and windy, and his drawings were made in the cabin of his vessel, often under great difficulties. he makes this interesting observation upon the eider duck: "in one nest of the eider ten eggs were found; this is the most we have seen as yet in any one nest. the female draws the down from her abdomen as far toward her breast as her bill will allow her to do, but the feathers are not pulled, and on examination of several specimens, i found these well and regularly planted, and cleaned from their original down, as a forest of trees is cleared of its undergrowth. in this state the female is still well clothed, and little or no difference can be seen in the plumage, unless examined." he gives this realistic picture of salmon fishermen that his party saw in labrador: "on going to a house on the shore, we found it a tolerably good cabin, floored, containing a good stove, a chimney, and an oven at the bottom of this, like the ovens of the french peasants, three beds, and a table whereon the breakfast of the family was served. this consisted of coffee in large bowls, good bread, and fried salmon. three labrador dogs came and sniffed about us, and then returned under the table whence they had issued, with no appearance of anger. two men, two women, and a babe formed the group, which i addressed in french. they were french-canadians and had been here several years, winter and summer, and are agents for the fur and fish co., who give them food, clothes, and about $ per annum. they have a cow and an ox, about an acre of potatoes planted in sand, seven feet of snow in winter, and two-thirds less salmon than was caught here ten years since. then, three hundred barrels was a fair season; now one hundred is the maximum; this is because they will catch the fish both ascending and descending the river. during winter the men hunt foxes, martens, and sables, and kill some bear of the black kind, but neither deer nor other game is to be found without going a great distance in the interior, where reindeer are now and then procured. one species of grouse, and one of ptarmigan, the latter white at all seasons; the former, i suppose to be, the willow grouse. the men would neither sell nor give us a single salmon, saying, that so strict were their orders that, should they sell _one,_ the place might be taken from them. if this should prove the case everywhere, i shall not purchase many for my friends. the furs which they collect are sent off to quebec at the first opening of the waters in spring, and not a skin of any sort was here for us to look at." he gives a vivid picture of the face of nature in labrador on a fine day, under date of july : "a beautiful day for labrador. drew another _m. articus._ went on shore, and was most pleased with what i saw. the country, so wild and grand, is of itself enough to interest any one in its wonderful dreariness. its mossy, grey-clothed rocks, heaped and thrown together as if by chance, in the most fantastical groups imaginable, huge masses hanging on minor ones as if about to roll themselves down from their doubtful-looking situations, into the depths of the sea beneath. bays without end, sprinkled with rocky islands of all shapes and sizes, where in every fissure a guillemot, a cormorant, or some other wild bird retreats to secure its egg, and raise its young, or save itself from the hunter's pursuit. the peculiar cast of the sky, which never seems to be certain, butterflies flitting over snowbanks, probing beautiful dwarf flowerets of many hues, pushing their tender, stems from the thick bed of moss which everywhere covers the granite rocks. then the morasses, wherein you plunge up to your knees, or the walking over the stubborn, dwarfish shrubbery, making one think that as he goes he treads down the _forests_ of labrador. the unexpected bunting, or perhaps sylvia, which, perchance, and indeed as if by chance alone, you now and then see flying before you, or hear singing from the creeping plants on the ground. the beautiful freshwater lakes, on the rugged crests of greatly elevated islands, wherein the red and black-necked divers swim as proudly as swans do in other latitudes, and where the fish appear to have been cast as strayed beings from the surplus food of the ocean. all--all is wonderfully grand, wild--aye, and terrific. and yet how beautiful it is now, when one sees the wild bee, moving from one flower to another in search of food, which doubtless is as sweet to it, as the essence of the magnolia is to those of favoured louisiana. the little ring plover rearing its delicate and tender young, the eider duck swimming man-of-war-like amid her floating brood, like the guardship of a most valuable convoy; the white-crowned bunting's sonorous note reaching the ear ever and anon; the crowds of sea birds in search of places wherein to repose or to feed--how beautiful is all this in this wonderful rocky desert at this season, the beginning of july, compared with the horrid blasts of winter which here predominate by the will of god, when every rock is rendered smooth with snows so deep that every step the traveller takes is as if entering into his grave; for even should he escape an avalanche, his eye dreads to search the horizon, for full well he knows that snow--snow is all that can be seen. i watched the ring plover for some time; the parents were so intent on saving their young that they both lay on the rocks as if shot, quivering their wings and dragging their bodies as if quite disabled. we left them and their young to the care of the creator. i would not have shot one of the old ones, or taken one of the young for any consideration, and i was glad my young men were as forbearing. the _l. marinus_ is extremely abundant here; they are forever harassing every other bird, sucking their eggs, and devouring their young; they take here the place of eagles and hawks; not an eagle have we seen yet, and only two or three small hawks, and one small owl; yet what a harvest they would have here, were there trees for them to rest upon." on his return from labrador in september, audubon spent three weeks in new york, after which with his wife, he started upon another southern trip, pausing at philadelphia, baltimore, washington, and richmond. in washington he made some attempts to obtain permission to accompany a proposed expedition to the rocky mountains, under government patronage. but the cold and curt manner in which cass, then secretary of war, received his application, quite disheartened him. but he presently met washington irving, whose friendly face and cheering words revived his spirits. how one would like a picture of that meeting in washington between audubon and irving--two men who in so many ways were kindred spirits! charleston, south carolina, was reached late in october, and at the home of their friend bachman the audubons seem to have passed the most of the winter of - : "my time was well employed; i hunted for new birds or searched for more knowledge of old. i drew, i wrote many long pages. i obtained a few new subscribers, and made some collections on account of my work." his son victor wrote desiring the presence of his father in england, and on april , we find him with his wife and son john, again embarked for liverpool. in due time they are in london where they find victor well, and the business of publication going on prosperously. one of the amusing incidents of this sojourn, narrated in the diaries, is audubon's and his son's interview with the baron rothschild, to whom he had a letter of introduction from a distinguished american banking house. the baron was not present when they entered his private office, but "soon a corpulent man appeared, hitching up his trousers, and a face red with the exertion of walking, and without noticing anyone present, dropped his fat body into a comfortable chair, as if caring for no one else in this wide world but himself. while the baron sat, we stood, with our hats held respectfully in our hands. i stepped forward, and with a bow tendered my credentials. 'pray, sir,' said the man of golden consequence, 'is this a letter of business, or is it a mere letter of introduction?' this i could not well answer, for i had not read the contents of it, and i was forced to answer rather awkwardly, that i could not tell. the banker then opened the letter, read it with the manner of one who was looking only at the temporal side of things, and after reading it said, 'this is only a letter of introduction, and i expect from its contents that you are the publisher of some book or other and need my subscription.' "had a man the size of a mountain spoken to me in that arrogant style in america, i should have indignantly resented it; but where i then was it seemed best to swallow and digest it as well as i could. so in reply to the offensive arrogance of the banker, i said i should be _honoured_ by his subscription to the "birds of america." 'sir,' he said, 'i never sign my name to any subscription list, but you may send in your work and i will pay for a copy of it. gentlemen, i am busy. i wish you good morning.' we were busy men, too, and so bowing respectfully, we retired, pretty well satisfied with the small slice of his opulence which our labour was likely to obtain. "a few days afterwards i sent the first volume of my work half bound, and all the numbers besides, then published. on seeing them we were told that he ordered the bearer to take them to his house, which was done directly. number after number was sent and delivered to the baron, and after eight or ten months my son made out his account and sent it by mr. havell, my engraver, to his banking-house. the baron looked at it with amazement, and cried out, 'what, a hundred pounds for birds! why, sir, i will give you five pounds and not a farthing more!' representations were made to him of the magnificence and expense of the work, and how pleased his baroness and wealthy children would be to have a copy; but the great financier was unrelenting. the copy of the work was actually sent back to mr. havell's shop, and as i found that instituting legal proceedings against him would cost more than it would come to, i kept the work, and afterwards sold it to a man with less money but a nobler heart. what a distance there is between two such men as the baron rothschild of london, and the merchant of savannah!" audubon remained in london during the summer of , and in the fall removed to edinburgh, where he hired a house and spent a year and a half at work on his "ornithological biography," the second and third volumes of which were published during that time. in the summer of , he returned to london, where he settled his family in cavendish square, and in july, with his son john, took passage at portsmouth for new york, desiring to explore more thoroughly the southern states for new material for his work. on his arrival in new york, audubon, to his deep mortification, found that all his books, papers, and valuable and curious things, which he had collected both at home and abroad, had been destroyed in the great fire in new york, in . in september he spent some time in boston where he met brewer and nuttall, and made the acquaintance of daniel webster, judge story, and others. writing to his son in england, at this time, admonishing him to carry on the work, should he himself be taken away prematurely, he advises him thus: "should you deem it wise to remove the publication of the work to this country, i advise you to settle in boston; _i have faith in the bostonians."_ in salem he called upon a wealthy young lady by the name of silsby, who had the eyes of a gazelle, but "when i mentioned subscription it seemed to fall on her ears, not as the cadence of the wood thrush, or of the mocking bird does on mine, but as a shower bath in cold january." from boston audubon returned in october to new york, and thence went southward through philadelphia to washington, carrying with him letters from washington irving to benjamin f. butler, then the attorney general of the united states, and to martin van buren who had just been elected to the presidency. butler was then quite a young man: "he read washington irving's letter, laid it down, and began a long talk about his talents, and after a while came round to my business, saying that the government allows so little money to the departments, that he did not think it probable that their subscription could be obtained without a law to that effect from congress." at this time he also met the president, general jackson: "he was very kind, and as soon as he heard that we intended departing to-morrow evening for charleston, invited us to dine with him _en famille._ at the hour named we went to the white house, and were taken into a room, where the president soon joined us, i sat close to him; we spoke of olden times, and touched slightly on politics, and i found him very averse to the cause of the texans.... the dinner was what might be called plain and substantial in england; i dined from a fine young turkey, shot within twenty miles of washington. the general drank no wine, but his health was drunk by us more than once; and he ate very moderately; his last dish consisting of bread and milk." in november audubon is again at the house of his friend dr. bachman, in charleston, south carolina. here he passed the winter of - , making excursions to various points farther south, going as far as florida. it was at this time that he seems to have begun, in connection with dr. bachman, his studies in natural history which resulted in the publication, a few years later, of the "quadrupeds of north america." in the spring he left charleston and set out to explore the gulf of mexico, going to galveston and thence well into texas, where he met general sam houston. here is one of his vivid, realistic pen pictures of the famous texan: "we walked towards the president's house, accompanied by the secretary of the navy, and as soon as we rose above the bank, we saw before us a level of far-extending prairie, destitute of timber, and rather poor soil. houses half finished, and most of them without roofs, tents, and a liberty pole, with the capitol, were all exhibited to our view at once. we approached the president's mansion, however, wading through water above our ankles. this abode of president houston is a small log house, consisting of two rooms, and a passage through, after the southern fashion. the moment we stepped over the threshold, on the right hand of the passage we found ourselves ushered into what in other countries would be called the antechamber; the ground floor, however, was muddy and filthy, a large fire was burning, a small table covered with paper and writing materials, was in the centre, camp-beds, trunks, and different materials, were strewed about the room. we were at once presented to several members of the cabinet, some of whom bore the stamp of men of intellectual ability, simple, though bold, in their general appearance. here we were presented to mr. crawford, an agent of the british minister to mexico, who has come here on some secret mission. "the president was engaged in the opposite room on some national business, and we could not see him for some time. meanwhile we amused ourselves by walking to the capitol, which was yet without a roof, and the floors, benches, and tables of both houses of congress were as well saturated with water as our clothes had been in the morning. being invited by one of the great men of the place to enter a booth to take a drink of grog with him, we did so; but i was rather surprised that he offered his name, instead of the cash to the bar-keeper. "we first caught sight of president houston as he walked from one of the grog shops, where he had been to prevent the sale of ardent spirits. he was on his way to his house, and wore a large grey coarse hat; and the bulk of his figure reminded me of the appearance of general hopkins of virginia, for like him he is upwards of six feet high, and strong in proportion. but i observed a scowl in the expression of his eyes, that was forbidding and disagreeable. we reached his abode before him, but he soon came, and we were presented to his excellency. he was dressed in a fancy velvet coat, and trousers trimmed with broad gold lace; around his neck was tied a cravat somewhat in the style of seventy-six. he received us kindly, was desirous of retaining us for awhile, and offered us every facility within his power. he at once removed us from the ante-room to his private chamber, which, by the way, was not much cleaner than the former. we were severally introduced by him to the different members of his cabinet and staff, and at once asked to drink grog with him, which we did, wishing success to his new republic. our talk was short: but the impression which was made on my mind at the time by himself, his officers, and his place of abode, can never be forgotten." late in the summer of , audubon, with his son john and his new wife--the daughter of dr. bachman, returned to england for the last time. he finally settled down again in edinburgh and prepared the fourth volume of his "ornithological biography." this work seems to have occupied him a year. the volume was published in november, . more drawings for his "birds of america" were finished the next winter, and also the fifth volume of the "biography" which was published in may, . in the fall of that year the family returned to america and settled in new york city, at white street. his great work, the "birds of america," had been practically completed, incredible difficulties had been surmounted, and the goal of his long years of striving had been reached. about one hundred and seventy-five copies of his "birds" had been delivered to subscribers, eighty of the number in this country. in a copy of the "ornithological biography" given in by audubon to j. prescott hall, the following note, preserved in the _magazine of american history_ ( ) was written by mr. hall. it is reproduced here in spite of its variance from statements now accepted:-- "mr. audubon told me in the year - that he did not sell more than copies of his great work in england, ireland, scotland and france, of which louis philippe took . "the following received their copies but never paid for them: george iv., duchess of clarence, marquis of londonderry, princess of hesse homburg. "an irish lord whose name he would not give, took two copies and paid for neither. rothschild paid for his copy, but with great reluctance. "he further said that he sold copies in america, in new york and in boston; that the work cost him £ , and that he lost $ , by it. "he said that louis philippe offered to subscribe for copies if he would publish the work in paris. this he found could not be done, as it would have required years to finish it as things were then in paris. of this conversation i made a memorandum at the time which i read over to mr. audubon and he pronounced it correct. "j. prescott hall." iv. about the very great merit of this work, there is but one opinion among competent judges. it is, indeed, a monument to the man's indomitable energy and perseverance, and it is a monument to the science of ornithology. the drawings of the birds are very spirited and life like, and their biographies copious, picturesque, and accurate, and, taken in connection with his many journals, they afford glimpses of the life of the country during the early part of the century, that are of very great interest and value. in writing the biography of the birds he wrote his autobiography as well; he wove his doings and adventures into his natural history observations. this gives a personal flavour to his pages, and is the main source of their charm. his account of the rosebreasted grosbeak is a good sample of his work in this respect: "one year, in the month of august, i was trudging along the shores of the mohawk river, when night overtook me. being little acquainted with that part of the country, i resolved to camp where i was; the evening was calm and beautiful, the sky sparkled with stars which were reflected by the smooth waters, and the deep shade of the rocks and trees of the opposite shore fell on the bosom of the stream, while gently from afar came on the ear the muttering sound of the cataract. my little fire was soon lighted under a rock, and, spreading out my scanty stock of provisions, i reclined on my grassy couch. as i looked on the fading features of the beautiful landscape, my heart turned towards my distant home, where my friends were doubtless wishing me, as i wish them, a happy night and peaceful slumbers. then were heard the barkings of the watch dog, and i tapped my faithful companion to prevent his answering them. the thoughts of my worldly mission then came over my mind, and having thanked the creator of all for his never-failing mercy, i closed my eyes, and was passing away into the world of dreaming existence, when suddenly there burst on my soul the serenade of the rosebreasted bird, so rich, so mellow, so loud in the stillness of the night, that sleep fled from my eyelids. never did i enjoy music more: it thrilled through my heart, and surrounded me with an atmosphere of bliss. one might easily have imagined that even the owl, charmed by such delightful music, remained reverently silent. long after the sounds ceased did i enjoy them, and when all had again become still, i stretched out my wearied limbs, and gave myself up to the luxury of repose." probably most of the seventy-five or eighty copies of "birds" which were taken by subscribers in this country are still extant, held by the great libraries, and learned institutions. the lenox library in new york owns three sets. the astor library owns one set. i have examined this work there; there are four volumes in a set; they are elephant folio size--more than three feet long, and two or more feet wide. they are the heaviest books i ever handled. it takes two men to carry one volume to the large racks which hold them for the purpose of examination. the birds, of which there are a thousand and fifty-five specimens in four hundred and thirty-five plates, are all life size, even the great eagles, and appear to be unfaded. this work, which cost the original subscribers one thousand dollars, now brings four thousand dollars at private sale. of the edition with reduced figures and with the bird biographies, many more were sold, and all considerable public libraries in this country possess the work. it consists of seven imperial octavo volumes. five hundred dollars is the average price which this work brings. this was a copy of the original english publication, with the figures reduced and lithographed. in this work, his sons, john and victor, greatly assisted him, the former doing the reducing by the aid of the camera-lucida, and the latter attending to the printing and publishing. the first volume of this work appeared in , and the last in . audubon experimented a long time before he hit upon a satisfactory method of drawing his birds. early in his studies he merely drew them in outline. then he practised using threads to raise the head, wing or tail of his specimen. under david he had learned to draw the human figure from a manikin. it now occurred to him to make a manikin of a bird, using cork or wood, or wires for the purpose. but his bird manikin only excited the laughter and ridicule of his friends. then he conceived the happy thought of setting up the body of the dead bird by the aid of wires, very much as a taxidermist mounts them. this plan worked well and enabled him to have his birds permanently before him in a characteristic attitude: "the bird fixed with wires on squares i studied as a lay figure before me, its nature previously known to me as far as habits went, and its general form having been perfectly observed." his bird pictures reflect his own temperament, not to say his nationality; the birds are very demonstrative, even theatrical and melodramatic at times. in some cases this is all right, in others it is all wrong. birds differ in this respect as much as people do--some are very quiet and sedate, others pose and gesticulate like a frenchman. it would not be easy to exaggerate, for instance, the flashings and evolutions of the redstart when it arrives in may, or the acting and posing of the catbird, or the gesticulations of the yellow breasted chat, or the nervous and emphatic character of the large-billed water thrush, or the many pretty attitudes of the great carolina wren; but to give the same dramatic character to the demure little song sparrow, or to the slow moving cuckoo, or to the pedestrian cowbird, or to the quiet kentucky warbler, as audubon has done, is to convey a wrong impression of these birds. wilson errs, if at all, in the other direction. his birds, on the other hand, reflect his cautious, undemonstrative scotch nature. few of them are shown in violent action like audubon's cuckoo; their poses for the most part are easy and characteristic. his drawings do not show the mastery of the subject and the versatility that audubon's do;--they have not the artistic excellence, but they less frequently do violence to the bird's character by exaggerated activity. the colouring in audubon's birds is also often exaggerated. his purple finch is as brilliant as a rose, whereas at its best, this bird is a dull carmine. either the baltimore oriole has changed its habits of nest-building since audubon's day, or else he was wrong in his drawing of the nest of that bird, in making the opening on the side near the top. i have never seen an oriole's nest that was not open at the top. in his drawings of a group of robins, one misses some of the most characteristic poses of that bird, while some of the attitudes that are portrayed are not common and familiar ones. but in the face of all that he accomplished, and against such odds, and taking into consideration also the changes that may have crept in through engraver and colourists, it ill becomes us to indulge in captious criticisms. let us rather repeat audubon's own remark on realising how far short his drawings came of representing the birds themselves: "after all, there's nothing perfect but _primitiveness_." finding that he could not live in the city, in audubon removed with his family to "minnie's land," on the banks of the hudson, now known as audubon park, and included in the city limits; this became his final home. in the spring of he started on his last long journey, his trip to the yellow-stone river, of which we have a minute account in his "missouri river journals"--documents that lay hidden in the back of an old secretary from to the time when they were found by his grand-daughters in , and published by them in . this trip was undertaken mainly in the interests of the "quadrupeds and biography of american quadrupeds," and much of what he saw and did is woven into those three volumes. the trip lasted eight months, and the hardships and exposures seriously affected audubon's health. he returned home in october, . he was now sixty-four or five years of age, and the infirmities of his years began to steal upon him. the first volume of his "quadrupeds" was published about two years later, and this was practically his last work. the second and third volumes were mainly the work of his sons, john and victor. the "quadrupeds" does not take rank with his "birds." it was not his first love. it was more an after thought to fill up his time. neither the drawing nor the colouring of the animals, largely the work of his son john, approaches those of the birds. "surely no man ever had better helpers" says his grand-daughter, and a study of his life brings us to the same conclusion--his devoted wife, his able and willing sons, were his closest helpers, nor do we lose sight of the assistance of the scientific and indefatigable macgillivray, and the untiring and congenial co-worker, dr. bachman. audubon's last years were peaceful and happy, and were passed at his home on the hudson, amid his children and grandchildren, surrounded by the scenes that he loved. after his eyesight began to fail him, his devoted wife read to him, she walked with him, and toward the last she fed him. "bread and milk were his breakfast and supper, and at noon he ate a little fish or game, never having eaten animal food if he could avoid it." one visiting at the home of our naturalist during his last days speaks of the tender way in which he said to his wife: "well, sweetheart, always busy. come sit thee down a few minutes and rest." parke godwin visited audubon in , and gives this account of his visit: "the house was simple and unpretentious in its architecture, and beautifully embowered amid elms and oaks. several graceful fawns, and a noble elk, were stalking in the shade of the trees, apparently unconscious of the presence of a few dogs, and not caring for the numerous turkeys, geese, and other domestic animals that gabbled and screamed around them. nor did my own approach startle the wild, beautiful creatures, that seemed as docile as any of their tame companions. "'is the master at home?' i asked of a pretty maid servant, who answered my tap at the door; and who, after informing me that he was, led me into a room on the left side of the broad hall. it was not, however, a parlour, or an ordinary reception room that i entered, but evidently a room for work. in one corner stood a painter's easel, with the half-finished sketch of a beaver on the paper; in the other lay the skin of an american panther. the antlers of elks hung upon the walls; stuffed birds of every description of gay plumage ornamented the mantel-piece; and exquisite drawings of field mice, orioles, and woodpeckers, were scattered promiscuously in other parts of the room, across one end of which a long, rude table was stretched to hold artist materials, scraps of drawing paper, and immense folio volumes, filled with delicious paintings of birds taken in their native haunts. "'this,' said i to myself, 'is the studio of the naturalist,' but hardly had the thought escaped me when the master himself made his appearance. he was a tall thin man, with a high-arched and serene forehead, and a bright penetrating grey eye; his white locks fell in clusters upon his shoulders, but were the only signs of age, for his form was erect, and his step as light as that of a deer. the expression of his face was sharp, but noble and commanding, and there was something in it, partly derived from the aquiline nose and partly from the shutting of the mouth, which made you think of the imperial eagle. "his greeting as he entered, was at once frank and cordial, and showed you the sincere true man. 'how kind it is,' he said, with a slight french accent and in a pensive tone, 'to come to see me; and how wise, too, to leave that crazy city.' he then shook me warmly by the hand. 'do you know,' he continued, 'how i wonder that men can consent to swelter and fret their lives away amid those hot bricks and pestilent vapours, when the woods and fields are all so near? it would kill me soon to be confined in such a prison house; and when i am forced to make an occasional visit there, it fills me with loathing and sadness. ah! how often, when i have been abroad on the mountains, has my heart risen in grateful praise to god that it was not my destiny to waste and pine among those noisome congregations of the city.'" another visitor to audubon during his last days writes: "in my interview with the naturalist, there were several things that stamped themselves indelibly on my mind. the wonderful simplicity of the man was perhaps the most remarkable. his enthusiasm for facts made him unconscious of himself. to make him happy you had only to give him a new fact in natural history, or introduce him to a rare bird. his self-forgetfulness was very impressive. i felt that i had found a man who asked homage for god and nature, and not for himself. "the unconscious greatness of the man seemed only equalled by his child-like tenderness. the sweet unity between his wife and himself, as they turned over the original drawings of his birds, and recalled the circumstances of the drawings, some of which had been made when she was with him; her quickness of perception, and their mutual enthusiasm regarding these works of his heart and hand, and the tenderness with which they unconsciously treated each other, all was impressed upon my memory. ever since, i have been convinced that audubon owed more to his wife than the world knew, or ever would know. that she was always a reliance, often a help, and ever a sympathising sister-soul to her noble husband, was fully apparent to me." one notes much of the same fire and vigour in the later portraits of audubon, that are so apparent in those of him in his youthful days. what a resolute closing of the mouth in his portrait taken of him in his old age--"the magnificent grey-haired man!" in , audubon's mind began to fail him; like emerson in his old age, he had difficulty in finding the right word. in may, , dr. bachman wrote of him: "my poor friend audubon! the outlines of his beautiful face and form are there, but his noble mind is all in ruins." his feebleness increased (there was no illness), till at sunset, january , , in his seventy-sixth year, the "american woodsman," as he was wont to call himself, set out on his last long journey to that bourne whence no traveller returns. v. as a youth audubon was an unwilling student of books; as a merchant and mill owner in kentucky he was an unwilling man of business, but during his whole career, at all times and in all places, he was more than a willing student of ornithology--he was an eager and enthusiastic one. he brought to the pursuit of the birds, and to the study of open air life generally, the keen delight of the sportsman, united to the ardour of the artist moved by beautiful forms. he was not in the first instance a man of science, like cuvier, or agassiz, or darwin--a man seeking exact knowledge; but he was an artist and a backwoodsman, seeking adventure, seeking the gratification of his tastes, and to put on record his love of the birds. he was the artist of the birds before he was their historian; the writing of their biographies seems to have been only secondary with him. he had the lively mercurial temperament of the latin races from which he sprang. he speaks of himself as "warm, irascible, and at times violent." his perceptive powers, of course, led his reflective. his sharpness and quickness of eye surprised even the indians. he says: "my _observatory nerves_ never gave way." his similes and metaphors were largely drawn from the animal world. thus he says, "i am as dull as a beetle," during his enforced stay in london. while he was showing his drawings to mr. rathbone, he says: "i was panting like the winged pheasant." at a dinner in some noble house in england he said that the men servants "moved as quietly as killdeers." on another occasion, when the hostess failed to put him at his ease: "there i stood, motionless as a heron." with all his courage and buoyancy, audubon was subject to fits of depression, probably the result largely of his enforced separation from his family. on one occasion in edinburgh he speaks of these attacks, and refers pathetically to others he had had: "but that was in beloved america, where the ocean did not roll between me and my wife and sons." never was a more patriotic american. he loved his adopted country above all other lands in which he had journeyed. never was a more devoted husband, and never did wife more richly deserve such devotion than did mrs. audubon. he says of her: "she felt the pangs of our misfortune perhaps more heavily than i, but never for an hour lost her courage; her brave and cheerful spirit accepted all, and no reproaches from her beloved lips ever wounded my heart. with her was i not always rich?" "the waiting time, my brother, is the hardest time of all." while audubon was waiting for better luck, or for worse, he was always listening to the birds and studying them--storing up the knowledge that he turned to such good account later: but we can almost hear his neighbours and acquaintances calling him an "idle, worthless fellow." not so his wife; she had even more faith in him than he had in himself. his was a lovable nature--he won affection and devotion easily, and he loved to be loved; he appreciated the least kindness shown him. he was always at ease and welcome in the squatter's cabin or in elegantly appointed homes, like that of his friends, the rathbones, though he does complain of an awkwardness and shyness sometimes when in high places. this, however, seemed to result from the pomp and ceremony found there, and not because of the people themselves. "chivalrous, generous, and courteous to his heart's core," says his granddaughter, "he could not believe others less so, till painful experiences taught him; then he was grieved, hurt, but never embittered; and, more marvellous yet, with his faith in his fellows as strong as ever, again and again he subjected himself to the same treatment." on one occasion when his pictures were on exhibition in england, some one stole one of his paintings, and a warrant was issued against a deaf mute. "gladly would i have painted a bird for the poor fellow," said audubon, "and i certainly did not want him arrested." he was never, even in his most desperate financial straits, too poor to help others more poor than himself. he had a great deal of the old-fashioned piety of our fathers, which crops out abundantly in his pages. while he was visiting a mr. bently in manchester, and after retiring to his room for the night, he was surprised by a knock at his door. it appeared that his host in passing thought he heard audubon call to him to ask for something: "i told him i prayed aloud every night, as had been my habit from a child at my mother's knees in nantes. he said nothing for a moment, then again wished me good night and was gone." audubon belonged to the early history of the country, to the pioneer times, to the south and the west, and was, on the whole, one of the most winsome, interesting, and picturesque characters that have ever appeared in our annals. bibliography. [footnote: publisher's note: this bibliography is that of the original edition. many books on audubon have been published since then.] the works of audubon are mentioned in the chronology at the beginning of the volume and in the text. of the writings about him the following--apart from the obvious books of reference in american biography--are the main sources of information:-- i. prose writings of america. by rufus wilmot griswold. (philadelphia, : carey & hart.) ii. brief biographies. by samuel smiles. (boston, : ticknor & fields.) iii. audubon, the naturalist of the new world: his adventures and discoveries. by mrs. horace roscoe stebbing st. john. (revised, with additions. boston, : crosby & nichols. new york, : the world publishing house.) iv. the life and adventures of john james audubon, the naturalist. edited, from materials supplied by his widow, by robert buchanan. (london, : s. low, son & marston.) v. the life of john james audubon. edited by his widow, with an introduction by james grant wilson. (new york, : putnams.) vi. famous men of science. by sarah knowles bolton. (boston, : t. y. crowell & co.) vii. audubon and his journals. by maria r. audubon. with zoological and other notes by elliott coues. (new york, : charles scribner's sons. two volumes.) this is by far the most interesting and authentic of any of the sources of information. my boyhood by john burroughs with a conclusion by his son julian burroughs foreword in the beginning, at least, father wrote these sketches of his boyhood and early farm life as a matter of self-defense: i had made a determined attempt to write them and when i did this i was treading on what was to him more or less sacred ground, for as he once said in a letter to me, "you will be homesick; i know just how i felt when i left home forty-three years ago. and i have been more or less homesick ever since. the love of the old hills and of father and mother is deep in the very foundations of my being." he had an intense love of his birthplace and cherished every memory of his boyhood and of his family and of the old farm high up on the side of old clump--"the mountain out of whose loins i sprang"--so that when i tried to write of him he felt it was time he took the matter in hand. the following pages are the result. julian burroughs. contents my boyhood by john burroughs my father by julian burroughs waiting serene, i fold my hands and wait, nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; i rave no more 'gainst time or fate, for lo! my own shall come to me. i stay my haste, i make delays, for what avails this eager pace? i stand amid the eternal ways, and what is mine shall know my face. asleep, awake, by night or day, the friends i seek are seeking me; no wind can drive my bark astray, nor change the tide of destiny. what matter if i stand alone? i wait with joy the coming years; my heart shall reap where it hath sown, and garner up its fruit of tears. the waters know their own, and draw the brook that springs in yonder heights; so flows the good with equal law unto the soul of pure delights. the stars come nightly to the sky; the tidal wave comes to the sea; nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, can keep my own away from me. my boyhood, by john burroughs you ask me to give you some account of my life--how it was with me, and now in my seventy-sixth year i find myself in the mood to do so. you know enough about me to know that it will not be an exciting narrative or of any great historical value. it is mainly the life of a country man and a rather obscure man of letters, lived in eventful times indeed, but largely lived apart from the men and events that have given character to the last three quarters of a century. like tens of thousands of others, i have been a spectator of, rather than a participator in, the activities--political, commercial, sociological, scientific--of the times in which i have lived. my life, like your own, has been along the by-paths rather than along the great public highways. i have known but few great men and have played no part in any great public events--not even in the civil war which i lived through and in which my duty plainly called me to take part. i am a man who recoils from noise and strife, even from fair competition, and who likes to see his days "linked each to each" by some quiet, congenial occupation. the first seventeen years of my life were spent on the farm where i was born ( - ); the next ten years i was a teacher in rural district schools ( - ); then i was for ten years a government clerk in washington ( - ); then in the summer of , while a national bank examiner and bank receiver, i purchased the small fruit farm on the hudson where you were brought up and where i have since lived, cultivating the land for marketable fruit and the fields and woods for nature literature, as you well know. i have gotten out of my footpaths a few times and traversed some of the great highways of travel--have been twice to europe, going only as far as paris ( and )--the first time sent to london by the government with three other men to convey $ , , of bonds to be refunded; the second time going with my family on my own account. i was a member of the harriman expedition to alaska in the summer of , going as far as plover bay on the extreme n. e. part of siberia. i was the companion of president roosevelt on a trip to yellowstone park in the spring of . in the winter and spring of i went to california with two women friends and extended the journey to the hawaiian islands, returning home in june. in i again crossed the continent to california. i have camped and tramped in maine and in canada, and have spent part of a winter in bermuda and in jamaica. this is an outline of my travels. i have known but few great men. i met carlyle in the company of moncure conway in london in november, . i met emerson three times--in at west point; in in baltimore and washington, where i heard him lecture; and at the holmes birthday breakfast in boston in . i knew walt whitman intimately from until his death in . i have met lowell and whittier, but not longfellow or bryant; i have seen lincoln, grant, sherman, early, sumner, garfield, cleveland, and other notable men of those days. i heard tyndall deliver his course of lectures on light in washington in or ' , but missed seeing huxley during his visit here. i dined with the rossettis in london in , but was not impressed by them nor they by me. i met matthew arnold in new york and heard his lecture on emerson. my books are, in a way, a record of my life--that part of it that came to flower and fruit in my mind. you could reconstruct my days pretty well from those volumes. a writer who gleans his literary harvest in the fields and woods reaps mainly where he has sown himself. he is a husbandman whose crop springs from the seed of his own heart. my life has been a fortunate one; i was born under a lucky star. it seems as if both wind and tide had favoured me. i have suffered no great losses, or defeats, or illness, or accidents, and have undergone no great struggles or privations; i have had no grouch, i have not wanted the earth. i am pessimistic by night, but by day i am a confirmed optimist, and it is the days that have stamped my life. i have found this planet a good corner of the universe to live in and i am not in a hurry to exchange it for any other. i hope the joy of living may be as keen with you, my dear boy, as it has been with me and that you may have life on as easy terms as i have. with this foreword i will begin the record in more detail. i have spoken of my good luck. it began in my being born on a farm, of parents in the prime of their days, and in humble circumstances. i deem it good luck, too, that my birth fell in april, a month in which so many other things find it good to begin life. father probably tapped the sugar bush about this time or a little earlier; the bluebird and the robin and song sparrow may have arrived that very day. new calves were bleating in the barn and young lambs under the shed. there were earth-stained snow drifts on the hillside, and along the stone walls and through the forests that covered the mountains the coat of snow showed unbroken. the fields were generally bare and the frost was leaving the ground. the stress of winter was over and the warmth of spring began to be felt in the air. i had come into a household of five children, two girls and three boys, the oldest ten years and the youngest two. one had died in infancy, making me the seventh child. mother was twenty-nine and father thirty-five, a medium-sized, freckled, red-haired man, showing very plainly the celtic or welsh strain in his blood, as did mother, who was a kelly and of irish extraction on the paternal side. i had come into a family of neither wealth nor poverty as those things were looked upon in those days, but a family dedicated to hard work winter and summer in paying for and improving a large farm, in a country of wide open valleys and long, broad-backed hills and gentle flowing mountain lines; very old geologically, but only one generation from the stump in the history of the settlement. indeed, the stumps lingered in many of the fields late into my boyhood, and one of my tasks in the dry mid-spring weather was to burn these stumps--an occupation i always enjoyed because the adventure of it made play of the work. the climate was severe in winter, the mercury often dropping to ° below, though we then had no thermometer to measure it, and the summers, at an altitude of two thousand feet, cool and salubrious. the soil was fairly good, though encumbered with the laminated rock and stones of the catskill formation, which the old ice sheet had broken and shouldered and transported about. about every five or six acres had loose stones and rock enough to put a rock-bottomed wall around it and still leave enough in and on the soil to worry the ploughman and the mower. all the farms in that section reposing in the valleys and bending up and over the broad-backed hills are checker-boards of stone walls, and the right-angled fields, in their many colours of green and brown and yellow and red, give a striking map-like appearance to the landscape. good crops of grain, such as rye, oats, buckwheat, and yellow corn, are grown, but grass is the most natural product. it is a grazing country and the dairy cow thrives there, and her products are the chief source of the incomes of the farms. i had come into a home where all the elements were sweet; the water and the air as good as there is in the world, and where the conditions of life were of a temper to discipline both mind and body. the settlers of my part of the catskills were largely from connecticut and long island, coming in after or near the close of the revolution, and with a good mixture of scotch emigrants. my great-grandfather, ephraim burroughs, came, with his family of eight or ten children, from near danbury, conn., and settled in the town of stamford shortly after the revolution. he died there in . my grandfather, eden, came into the town of roxbury, then a part of ulster county. i had come into a land flowing with milk, if not with honey. the maple syrup may very well take the place of the honey. the sugar maple was the dominant tree in the woods and the maple sugar the principal sweetening used in the family. maple, beech, and birch wood kept us warm in winter, and pine and hemlock timber made from trees that grew in the deeper valleys formed the roofs and the walls of the houses. the breath of kine early mingled with my own breath. from my earliest memory the cow was the chief factor on the farm and her products the main source of the family income; around her revolved the haying and the harvesting. it was for her that we toiled from early july until late august, gathering the hay into the barns or into the stacks, mowing and raking it by hand. that was the day of the scythe and the good mower, of the cradle and the good cradler, of the pitchfork and the good pitcher. with the modern agricultural machinery the same crops are gathered now with less than half the outlay of human energy, but the type of farmer seems to have deteriorated in about the same proportion. the third generation of farmers in my native town are much like the third steeping of tea, or the third crop of corn where no fertilizers have been used. the large, picturesque, and original characters who improved the farms and paid for them are about all gone, and their descendants have deserted the farms or are distinctly of an inferior type. the farms keep more stock and yield better crops, owing to the amount of imported grain consumed upon them, but the families have dwindled or gone out entirely, and the social and the neighbourhood spirit is not the same. no more huskings or quiltings, or apple cuts, or raisings or "bees" of any sort. the telephone and the rural free delivery have come and the automobile and the daily newspaper. the roads are better, communication quicker, and the houses and barns more showy, but the men and the women, and especially the children, are not there. the towns and the cities are now colouring and dominating the country which they have depleted of its men, and the rural districts are becoming a faded replica of town life. the farm work to which i was early called upon to lend a hand, as i have said, revolved around the dairy cow. her paths were in the fields and woods, her sonorous voice was upon the hills, her fragrant breath was upon every breeze. she was the centre of our industries. to keep her in good condition, well pastured in summer and well housed and fed in winter, and the whole dairy up to its highest point of efficiency--to this end the farmer directed his efforts. it was an exacting occupation. in summer the day began with the milking and ended with the milking; and in winter it began with the foddering and ended with the foddering, and the major part of the work between and during both seasons had for its object, directly or indirectly, the well-being of the herd. getting the cows and turning away the cows in summer was usually the work of the younger boys; turning them out of the stable and putting them back in winter was usually the work of the older. the foddering them from the stack in the field in winter also fell to the lot of the older members of the family. in milking we all took a hand when we had reached the age of about ten years, mother and my sisters usually doing their share. at first we milked the cows in the road in front of the house, setting the pails of milk on the stone work; later we milked them in a yard in the orchard behind the house, and of late years the milking is done in the stable. mother said that when they first came upon the farm, as she sat milking a cow in the road one evening, she saw a large black animal come out of the woods out where the clover meadow now is, and cross the road and disappear in the woods on the other side. bears sometimes carried off the farmers' hogs in those days, boldly invading the pens to do so. my father kept about thirty cows of the durham breed; now the dairy herds are made up of jerseys or holsteins. then the product that went to market was butter, now it is milk. then the butter was made on the farm by the farmer's wife or the hired girl, now it is made in the creameries by men. my mother made most of the butter for nearly forty years, packing thousands of tubs and firkins of it in that time. the milk was set in tin pans on a rack in the milk house for the cream to rise, and as soon as the milk clabbered it was skimmed. about three o'clock in the afternoon during the warm weather mother would begin skimming the milk, carrying it pan by pan to the big cream pan, where with a quick movement of a case knife the cream was separated from the sides of the pan, the pan tilted on the edge of the cream pan and the heavy mantle of cream, in folds or flakes, slid off into the receptacle and the thick milk emptied into pails to be carried to the swill barrel for the hogs. i used to help mother at times by handing her the pans of milk from the rack and emptying the pails. then came the washing of the pans at the trough, at which i also often aided her by standing the pans up to dry and sun on the big bench. rows of drying tin pans were always a noticeable feature about farmhouses in those days, also the churning machine attached to the milk house and the sound of the wheel, propelled by the "old churner"--either a big dog or a wether sheep. every summer morning by eight o'clock the old sheep or the old dog was brought and tied to his task upon the big wheel. sheep were usually more unwilling churners than were the dogs. they rarely acquired any sense of duty or obedience as a dog did. this endless walking and getting nowhere very soon called forth vigorous protests. the churner would pull back, brace himself, choke, and stop the machine: one churner threw himself off and was choked to death before he was discovered. i remember when the old hetchel from the day of flax dressing, fastened to a board, did duty behind the old churner, spurring him up with its score or more of sharp teeth when he settled back to stop the machine. "run and start the old sheep," was a command we heard less often after that. he could not long hold out against the pressure of that phalanx of sharp points upon his broad rear end. the churn dog was less obdurate and perverse, but he would sometimes hide away as the hour of churning approached and we would have to hustle around to find him. but we had one dog that seemed to take pleasure in the task and would go quickly to the wheel when told to and finish his task without being tied. in the absence of both dog and sheep, i have a few times taken their place on the wheel. in winter and early spring there was less cream to churn and we did it by hand, two of us lifting the dasher together. heavy work for even big boys, and when the stuff was reluctant and the butter would not come sometimes until the end of an hour, the task tried our mettle. sometimes it would not gather well after it had come, then some deft handling of the dasher was necessary. i never tired of seeing mother lift the great masses of golden butter from the churn with her ladle and pile them up in the big butter bowl, with the drops of buttermilk standing upon them as if they were sweating from the ordeal they had been put through. then the working and the washing of it to free it from the milk and the final packing into tub or firkin, its fresh odour in the air--what a picture it was! how much of the virtue of the farm went each year into those firkins! literally the cream of the land. ah, the alchemy of life, that in the bee can transform one product of those wild rough fields into honey, and in the cow can transform another product into milk! the spring butter was packed into fifty-pound tubs to be shipped to market as fast as made. the packing into one-hundred-pound firkins to be held over till november did not begin till the cows were turned out to pasture in may. to have made forty tubs by that time and sold them for eighteen or twenty cents a pound was considered very satisfactory. then to make forty or fifty firkins during the summer and fall and to get as good a price for it made the farmer's heart glad. when father first came on the farm, in , butter brought only twelve or fourteen cents per pound, but the price steadily crept up till in my time it sold from seventeen to eighteen and a half. the firkin butter was usually sold to a local butter buyer named dowie. he usually appeared in early fall, always on horseback, having notified father in advance. at the breakfast table father would say, "dowie is coming to try the butter to-day." "i hope he will not try that firkin i packed that hot week in july," mother would say. but very likely that was the one among others he would ask for. his long, half-round steel butter probe or tryer was thrust down the centre of the firkin to the bottom, given a turn or two, and withdrawn, its tapering cavity filled with a sample of every inch of butter in the firkin. dowie would pass it rapidly to and fro under his nose, maybe sometimes tasting it, then push the tryer back into the hole, then withdrawing it, leaving its core of butter where it found it. if the butter suited him, and it rarely failed to do so, he would make his offer and ride away to the next dairy. the butter had always to be delivered at a date agreed upon, on the hudson river at catskill. this usually took place in november. it was the event of the fall: two loads of butter, of twenty or more firkins each, to be transported fifty miles in a lumber wagon, each round trip taking about four days. the firkins had to be headed up and gotten ready. this job in my time usually fell to hiram. he would begin the day before father was to start and have a load headed and placed in the wagon on time, with straw between the firkins so they would not rub. how many times i have heard those loads start off over the frozen ground in the morning before it was light! sometimes a neighbour's wagon would go slowly jolting by just after or just before father had started, but on the same errand. father usually took a bag of oats for his horses and a box of food for himself so as to avoid all needless expenses. the first night would usually find him in steel's tavern in greene county, half way to catskill. the next afternoon would find him at his journey's end and by night unloaded at the steamboat wharf, his groceries and other purchases made, and ready for an early start homeward in the morning. on the fourth night we would be on the lookout for his return. mother would be sitting, sewing by the light of her tallow dip, with one ear bent toward the road. she usually caught the sound of his wagon first. "there comes your father," she would say, and hiram or wilson would quickly get and light the old tin lantern and stand ready on the stonework to receive him and help put out the team. by the time he was in the house his supper would be on the table--a cold pork stew, i remember, used to delight him on such occasions, and a cup of green tea. after supper his pipe, and the story of his trip told, with a list of family purchases, and then to bed. in a few days the second trip would be made. as his boys grew old enough he gave each of them in turn a trip with him to catskill. it was a great event in the life of each of us. when it came my turn i was probably eleven or twelve years old and the coming event loomed big on my horizon. i was actually to see my first steamboat, the hudson river, and maybe the steam cars. for several days in advance i hunted the woods for game to stock the provision box so as to keep down the expense. i killed my first partridge and probably a wild pigeon or two and gray squirrels. perched high on that springboard beside father, my feet hardly touching the tops of the firkins, at the rate of about two miles an hour over rough roads in chilly november weather, i made my first considerable journey into the world. i crossed the catskill mountains and got that surprising panoramic view of the land beyond from the top. at cairo, where it seems we passed the second night, i disgraced myself in the morning, when father, after praising me to some bystanders, told me to get up in the wagon and drive the load out in the road. in my earnest effort to do so i ran foul of one side of the big door, and came near smashing things. father was humiliated and i was dreadfully mortified. with the wonders of catskill i was duly impressed, but one of my most vivid remembrances is a passage at arms (verbal) at the steamboat between father and old dowie. the latter had questioned the correctness of the weight of the empty firkin which was to be deducted as tare from the total weight. hot words followed. father said, "strip it, strip it." dowie said, "i will," and in a moment there stood on the scales the naked firkin of butter, sweating drops of salt water. which won, i do not know. i remember only that peace soon reigned and dowie continued to buy our butter. one other incident of that trip still sticks in my mind. i was walking along a street just at dusk, when i saw a drove of cattle coming. the drover, seeing me, called out, "here, boy, turn those cows up that street!" this was in my line, i was at home with cows, and i turned the drove up in fine style. as the man came along he said, "well done," and placed six big copper cents in my hand. never was my palm more unexpectedly and more agreeably tickled. the feel of it is with me yet! at an earlier date than that of the accident in the old stone school house, my head, and my body, too, got some severe bruises. one summer day when i could not have been more than three years old, my sister jane and i were playing in the big attic chamber and amusing ourselves by lying across the vinegar keg and pushing it about the room with our feet. we came to the top of the steep stairway that ended against the chamber door, a foot or more above the kitchen floor, and i suppose we thought it would be fun to take the stairway on the keg. at the brink of that stairway my memory becomes a blank and when i find myself again i am lying on the bed in the "back-bedroom" and the smell of camphor is rank in the room. how it fared with jane i do not recall; the injury was probably not serious with either of us, but it is easy to imagine how poor mother must have been startled when she heard that racket on the stairs and the chamber door suddenly burst open, spilling two of her children, mixed up with the vinegar keg, out on the kitchen floor. jane was more than two years my senior, and should have known better. vivid incidents make a lasting impression. i recall what might have been a very serious accident had not my usual good luck attended me, when i was a few years older. one autumn day i was with my older brothers in the corn lot, where they had gone with the lumber wagon to gather pumpkins. when they had got their load and were ready to start i planted myself on the load above the hind axle and let my legs hang down between the spokes of the big wheel. luckily one of my brothers saw my perilous position just as the team was about to move and rescued me in time. doubtless my legs would have been broken and maybe very badly crushed in a moment more. but such good fortune seems to have followed me always. one winter's morning, as i stooped to put on one of my boots beside the kitchen stove at the house of a schoolmate with whom i had passed the night, my face came in close contact with the spout of the boiling tea kettle. the scalding steam barely missed my eye and blistered my brow a finger's breadth above it. with one eye gone, i fancy life would have looked quite different. another time i was walking along one of the market streets of new york, when a heavy bale of hay, through the carelessness of some workman, dropped from thirty or forty feet above me and struck the pavement at my feet. i heard angry words over the mishap, spoken by someone above me, but i only said to myself, "lucky again!" i recall a bit of luck of a different kind when i was a treasury clerk in washington. i had started for the seashore for a week's vacation with a small roll of new greenbacks in my pocket. shortly after the train had left the station i left my seat and walked through two or three of the forward cars looking for a friend who had agreed to join me. not finding him, i retraced my steps, and as i was passing along through the car next my own i chanced to see a roll of new bills on the floor near the end of a seat. instinctively feeling for my own roll of bills and finding it missing, i picked up the money and saw at a glance that it was mine. the passengers near by eyed me in surprise, and i suspect began to feel in their own pockets, but i did not stop to explain and went to my seat startled but happy. i had missed my friend but i might have missed something of more value to me just at that time. a kind of untoward fate seems inherent in the characters of some persons and makes them the victims of all the ill luck on the road. such a fate has not been mine. i have met all the good luck on the road. some kindly influence has sent my best friends my way, or sent me their way. the best thing about me is that i have found a perennial interest in the common universal things which all may have on equal terms, and hence have found plenty to occupy and absorb me wherever i have been. if the earth and the sky are enough for one, why should one sigh for other spheres? the old farm must have had at least ten miles of stone walls upon it, many of them built new by father from stones picked up in the fields, and many of them relaid by him, or rather by his boys and hired men. father was not skilful at any sort of craft work. he was a good ploughman, a good mower and cradler, excellent with a team of oxen drawing rocks, and good at most general farm work, but not an adept at constructing anything. hiram was the mechanical genius of the family. he was a good wall-layer, and skilful with edged tools. it fell to his lot to make the sleds, the stone-boats, the hay-rigging, the ax helves, the flails, to mend the cradles and rakes, to build the haystacks, and once, i remember, he rebuilt the churning machine. he was slow but he hewed exactly to the line. before and during my time on the farm father used to count on building forty or fifty rods of stone wall each year, usually in the spring and early summer. these were the only lines of poetry and prose father wrote. they are still very legible on the face of the landscape and cannot be easily erased from it. gathered out of the confusion of nature, built up of fragments of the old devonian rock and shale, laid with due regard to the wear and tear of time, well-bottomed and well-capped, establishing boundaries and defining possessions, etc., these lines of stone wall afford a good lesson in many things besides wall building. they are good literature and good philosophy. they smack of the soil, they have local colour, they are a bit of chaos brought into order. when you deal with nature only the square deal is worth while. how she searches for the vulnerable points in your structure, the weak places in your foundation, the defective material in your building! the farmer's stone wall, when well built, stands about as long as he does. it begins to reel and look decrepit when he begins to do so. but it can be relaid and he cannot. one day i passed by the roadside to speak with an old man who was rebuilding a wall. "i laid this wall fifty years ago," he said. "when it is laid up again i shall not have the job." he had stood up longer than had his wall. a stone wall is the friend of all the wild creatures. it is a safe line of communication with all parts of the landscape. what do the chipmunks, red squirrels, and weasels do in a country without stone fences? the woodchucks and the coons and foxes also use them. it was my duty as a farm boy to help pick up the stone and pry up the rocks. i could put the bait under the lever, even if my weight on top of it did not count for much. the slow, patient, hulky oxen, how they would kink their tails, hump their backs, and throw their weight into the bows when they felt a heavy rock behind them and father lifted up his voice and laid on the "gad"! it was a good subject for a picture which, i think, no artist has ever painted. how many rocks we turned out of their beds, where they had slept since the great ice sheet tucked them up there, maybe a hundred thousand years ago--how wounded and torn the meadow or pasture looked, bleeding as it were, in a score of places, when the job was finished! but the further surgery of the plough and harrow, followed by the healing touch of the seasons, soon made all whole again. the work on the farm in those days varied little from year to year. in winter the care of the cattle, the cutting of the wood, and the thrashing of the oats and rye filled the time. from the age of ten or twelve till we were grown up, we went to school only in winter, doing the chores morning and evening, and engaging in general work every other saturday, which was a holiday. often my older brothers would have to leave school by three o'clock to get home to put up the cows in my father's absence. those school days, how they come back to me!--the long walk across lots, through the snow-choked fields and woods, our narrow path so often obliterated by a fresh fall of snow; the cutting winds, the bitter cold, the snow squeaking beneath our frozen cowhide boots, our trousers' legs often tied down with tow strings to keep the snow from pushing them up above our boot tops; the wide-open white landscape with its faint black lines of stone wall when we had passed the woods and began to dip down into west settlement valley; the smith boys and bouton boys and dart boys, afar off, threading the fields on their way to school, their forms etched on the white hillsides, one of the bigger boys, ria bouton, who had many chores to do, morning after morning running the whole distance so as not to be late; the red school house in the distance by the roadside with the dark spot in its centre made by the open door of the entry way; the creek in the valley, often choked with anchor ice, which our path crossed and into which i one morning slumped, reaching the school house with my clothes freezing upon me and the water gurgling in my boots; the boys and girls there, jay gould among them, two thirds of them now dead and the living scattered from the hudson to the pacific; the teachers now all dead; the studies, the games, the wrestlings, the baseball--all these things and more pass before me as i recall those long-gone days. two years ago i hunted up one of those schoolmates in california whom i had not seen for over sixty years. she was my senior by seven or eight years, and i had a boy's remembrance of her fresh sweet face, her kindly eyes and gentle manners. i was greeted by a woman of eighty-two, with dimmed sight and dulled hearing, but instantly i recognized some vestiges of the charm and sweetness of my elder schoolmate of so long ago. no cloud was on her mind or memory and for an hour we again lived among the old people and scenes. what a roomful of pupils, many of them young men and women, there was during those winters, thirty-five or forty each day! in late years there are never more than five or six. the fountains of population are drying up more rapidly than are our streams. of that generous roomful of young people, many became farmers, a few became business men, three or four became professional men, and only one, so far as i know, took to letters; and he, judged by his environment and antecedents, the last one you would have picked out for such a career. you might have seen in jay gould's jewish look, bright scholarship, and pride of manners some promise of an unusual career; but in the boy of his own age whom he was so fond of wrestling with and of having go home with him at night, but whose visits he would never return, what was there indicative of the future? surely not much that i can now discover. jay gould, who became a sort of napoleon of finance, early showed a talent for big business and power to deal with men. he had many characteristic traits which came out even in his walk. one day in new york, after more than twenty years since i had known him as a boy, i was walking up fifth avenue, when i saw a man on the other side of the street, more than a block away, coming toward me, whose gait arrested my attention as something i had known long before. who could it be? i thought, and began to ransack my memory for a clew. i had seen that gait before. as the man came opposite me i saw he was jay gould. that walk in some subtle way differed from the walk of any other man i had known. it is a curious psychological fact that the two men outside my own family of whom i have oftenest dreamed in my sleep are emerson and jay gould; one to whom i owe so much, the other to whom i owe nothing; one whose name i revere, the other whose name i associate, as does the world, with the dark way of speculative finance. the new expounders of the philosophy of dreams would probably tell me that i had a secret admiration for jay gould. if i have, it slumbers deeply in my sub-conscious self and awakens only when my conscious self sleeps. but i set out to talk of the work on the farm. the threshing was mostly done in winter with the hickory flail, one shock of fifteen sheaves making a flooring. on the dry cold days the grain shelled easily. after a flooring had been thrashed over at least three times, the straw was bound up again in sheaves, the floor completely raked over and the grain banked up against the side of the bay. when the pile became so large it was in the way, it was cleaned up, that is, run through the fanning mill, one of us shovelling in the grain, another turning the mill, and a third measuring the grain and putting it into bags, or into the bins of the granary. one winter when i was a small boy jonathan scudder threshed for us in the barn on the hill. he was in love with my sister olly ann and wanted to make a good impression on the "old folks." every night at supper father would say to him, "well, jonathan, how many shock today?" and they grew more and more, until one day he reached the limit of fourteen and he was highly complimented on his day's work. it made an impression on father, but it did not soften the heart of olly ann. the sound of the flail and the fanning mill is heard in the farmers' barns no more. the power threshing machine that travels from farm to farm now does the job in a single day--a few hours of pandemonium, with now and then a hand or an arm crushed in place of the days of leisurely swinging of the hickory flail. the first considerable work in spring was sugar-making, always a happy time for me. usually the last half of march, when rills from the melting snow began to come through the fields, the veins of the sugar maples began to thrill with the spring warmth. there was a general awakening about the farm at this time: the cackling of the hens, the bleating of young lambs and calves, and the wistful lowing of the cows. earlier in the month the "sap spiles" had been overhauled, resharpened, and new ones made, usually from bass wood. in my time the sap gouge was used instead of the auger and the manner of tapping was crude and wasteful. a slanting gash three or four inches long and a half inch or more deep was cut, and an inch below the lower end of this the gouge was driven in to make the place for the spile, a piece of wood two inches wide, shaped to the gouge, and a foot or more in length. it gave the tree a double and unnecessary wound. the bigger the gash the more the sap, seemed to be the theory, as if the tree was a barrel filled with liquid, whereas a small wound made by a half-inch bit does the work just as well and is far less injurious to the tree. when there came a bright morning, wind northwest and warm enough to begin to thaw by eight o'clock, the sugar-making utensils--pans, kettles, spiles, hogsheads--were loaded upon the sled and taken to the woods, and by ten o'clock the trees began to feel the cruel ax and gouge once more. it usually fell to my part to carry the pans and spiles for one of the tappers, hiram or father, and to arrange the pans on a level foundation of sticks or stones, in position. father often used to haggle the tree a good deal in tapping. "by fagus," he would say, "how awkward i am!" the rapid tinkle of those first drops of sap in the tin pan, how well i remember it! probably the note of the first song sparrow or first bluebird, or the spring call of the nuthatch, sounded in unison. usually only patches of snow lingered here and there in the woods and the earth-stained remnants of old drifts on the sides of the hills and along the stone walls. those lucid warm march days in the naked maple woods under the blue sky, with the first drops of sap ringing in the pans, had a charm that does not fade from my mind. after the trees were all tapped, two hundred and fifty of them, the big kettles were again set up in the old stone-arch, and the hogsheads in which to store the sap placed in position. by four o'clock many of the pans--milk pans from the dairy--would be full, and the gathering with neck yoke and pails began. when i was fourteen or fifteen i took a hand in this part of the work. it used to tax my strength to carry the two twelve-quart pails full through the rough places and up the steep banks in the woods and then lift them up and alternately empty them into the hogsheads without displacing the neck yoke. but i could do it. now all this work is done by the aid of a team and a pipe fastened on a sled. before i was old enough to gather sap it fell to me to go to the barns and put in hay for the cows and help stable them. the next morning the boiling of the sap would begin, with hiram in charge. the big deep iron kettles were slow evaporators compared with the broad shallow sheet-iron pans now in use. profundity cannot keep up with shallowness in sugar-making, the more superficial your evaporator, within limits, the more rapid your progress. it took the farmers nearly a hundred years to find this out, or at least to act upon it. at the end of a couple of days of hard boiling hiram would "syrup off," having reduced two hundred pails of sap to five or six of syrup. the syruping-off often occurred after dark. when the liquid dropped from a dipper which was dipped into it and, held up in the cool air, formed into stiff thin masses, it had reached the stage of syrup. how we minded our steps over the rough path, in the semi-darkness of the old tin lantern, in carrying those precious pails of syrup to the house, where the final process of "sugaring off" was to be completed by mother and jane! the sap runs came at intervals of several days. two or three days would usually end one run. a change in the weather to below freezing would stop the flow, and a change to much warmer would check it. the fountains of sap are let loose by frosty sunshine. frost in the ground, or on it in the shape of snow and the air full of sunshine are the most favourable conditions. a certain chill and crispness, something crystalline, in the air are necessary. a touch of enervating warmth from the south or a frigidity from the north and the trees feel it through their thick bark coats very quickly. between the temperatures of thirty-five to fifty degrees they get in their best work. after we have had one run ending in rain and warmth, a fresh fall of snow--"sap snow", the farmers call such--will give us another run. three or four good runs make a long and successful season. my boyhood days in the spring sugar bush were my most enjoyable on the farm. how i came to know each one of those two hundred and fifty trees--what a distinct sense of individuality seemed to adhere to most of them, as much so as to each cow in a dairy! i knew at which trees i would be pretty sure to find a full pan and at which ones a less amount. one huge tree always gave a cream-pan full--a double measure--while the others were filling an ordinary pan. this was known as "the old cream-pan tree." its place has long been vacant; about half the others are still standing, but with the decrepitude of age appearing in their tops, a new generation of maples has taken the place of the vanished veterans. while tending the kettles there beside the old arch in the bright, warm march or april days, with my brother, or while he had gone to dinner, looking down the long valley and off over the curving backs of the distant mountain ranges, what dreams i used to have, what vague longings, and, i may say, what happy anticipations! i am sure i gathered more than sap and sugar in those youthful days amid the maples. when i visit the old home now i have to walk up to the sugar bush and stand around the old "boiling place," trying to transport myself back into the magic atmosphere of that boyhood time. the man has his dreams, too, but to his eyes the world is not steeped in romance as it is to the eyes of youth. one springtime in the sugar season my cousin, gib kelly, a boy of my own age, visited me, staying two or three days. (he died last fall.) when he went away i was minding the kettles in the woods, and as i saw him crossing the bare fields in the march sunshine, his steps bent toward the distant mountains, i still remember what a sense of loss came over me, his comradeship had so brightened my enjoyment of the beautiful days. he seemed to take my whole world with him, and on that and the following day i went about my duties in the sap bush in a wistful and pensive mood i had never before felt. i early showed the capacity for comradeship. a boy friend could throw the witchery of romance over everything. oh, the enchanted days with my youthful mates! and i have not entirely outgrown that early susceptibility. there are persons in the world whose comradeship can still transmute the baser metal of commonplace scenes and experiences into the purest gold of romance for me. it is probably my feminine idiosyncrasies that explain all this. another unforgettable passion of comradeship in my youth i experienced toward the son of a cousin, a boy four or five years old, or about half my own age. one spring his mother and he were visiting at our house eight or ten days. the child was very winsome and we soon became inseparable companions. he was like a visitor from another sphere. i frequently carried him on my back, and my heart opened to him more and more each day. one day we started to come down a rather steep pair of stairs from the hog-pen chamber; i had stepped down a few steps and reached out to take little harry in my arms, as he stood on the floor at the head of the stairs, and carry him down, when in his joy he gave a spring and toppled me over with him in my arms, and we brought up at the bottom with our heads against some solid timbers. it was a severe shake-up but hurt my heart more than it did my head because the boy was badly bruised. the event comes back to me as if it were but yesterday. for weeks after his departure i longed for him day and night and the experience still shines like a star in my boyhood life. i never saw him again until two years ago when, knowing he lived there, a practising physician, i hunted him up in san francisco. i found him a sedate gray-haired man, with no hint, of course, of the child i had known and loved more than sixty years before. it has been my experience on several occasions to hunt up friends of my youth after the lapse of more than half a century. last spring i had a letter from a pupil of mine in the first school i ever taught, in or ' . i had not seen or heard from him in all those years when he recalled himself to my mind. the name i had not forgotten, roswell beach, but the face i had. only two weeks ago, being near his town, it occurred to me to look him up. i did so and was shocked to find him on his deathbed. too weak to raise his head from his pillow he yet threw his arms around me and spoke my name many times with marked affection. he died a few days later. i was to him what some of my old teachers were to me--stars that never set below my horizon. my boyish liking for girls was quite different from my liking for boys--there was little or no sense of comradeship in it. when i was eight or nine years old there was one girl in the school toward whom i felt very partial, and i thought she reciprocated till one day i suddenly saw how little she cared for me. the teacher had forbidden us to put our feet upon the seats in front of us. in a spirit of rebellion, i suppose, when the teacher was not looking, i put my brown, soil-stained bare feet upon the forbidden seat. polly quickly spoke up and said, "teacher, johnny burris put his feet on the seat"--what a blow it was to me for her to tell on me! like a cruel frost those words nipped the tender buds of my affection and they never sprouted again. years after, her younger brother married my younger sister, and maybe that unkind cut of our school days kept me from marrying polly. i had other puppy loves but they all died a natural death. but let me get back to the farm work. the gathering of the things in the sugar bush, when the flow of sap had stopped, usually fell to eden and me. we would carry the pans and spiles together in big piles, where the oxen and sled could reach them. then when they were taken to the house it was my mother's and sister's task to get them ready for the milk. the drawing out of the manure and the spring ploughing was the next thing in order on the farm. i took a hand in the former but not in the latter. the spreading of the manure that had been drawn out and placed in heaps in the fields during the winter often fell to me. i remember that i did not bend my back to the work very willingly, especially when the cattle had been bedded with long rye straw, but there were compensations. i could lean on my fork handle and gaze at the spring landscape, i could see the budding trees and listen to the songs of the early birds and maybe catch the note of the first swallow in the air overhead. the farm boy always has the whole of nature at his elbow and he is usually aware of it. when, armed with my long-handled "knocker," i used to be sent forth in the april meadows to beat up and scatter the fall droppings of the cows--the juno's cushions as irving named them--i was in much more congenial employment. had i known the game of golf in those days i should probably have looked upon this as a fair substitute. to stand the big cushions up on edge and with a real golfer's swing hit them with my mallet and see the pieces fly was more like play than work. oh, then it was april and i felt the rising tide of spring in my blood, and a bit of free activity like this under the blue sky suited my humour. a boy likes almost any work that affords him an escape from routine and humdrum and has an element of play in it. turning the grindstone or the fanning mill or carrying together sheaves or picking up potatoes or carrying in wood were duties that were a drag upon my spirits. the spring ploughing and the sowing of the grain and harrowing fell mainly to father and my older brothers. the spring work was considered done when the oats were sowed and the corn and potatoes planted: the first in early may, the latter in late may. the buckwheat was not sown until late june. one farmer would ask another, "how many oats are you going to sow, or have you sown?" not how many acres. "oh, fifteen or twenty bushels," would be the answer. the working of the roads came in june after the crops were in. all hands, summoned by the "path master," would meet at a given date, at the end of the district down by the old stone school house--men and boys with oxen, horses, scrapers, hoes, crowbars--and begin repairing the highway. it was not strenuous work, but a kind of holiday that we all enjoyed more or less. the road got fixed after a fashion, here and there--a bridge mended, a ditch cleaned out, the loose stones removed, a hole filled up, or a short section "turnpiked"--but the days were eight-hour days and they did not sit heavy upon us. the state does it much better now with road machinery and a few men. once or twice a year father used to send me with a hoe to throw the loose stones out of the road. a pleasanter duty during those years was shooting chipmunks around the corn. these little rodents were so plentiful in my youth that they used to pull up the sprouting corn around the margin of the field near the stone walls. armed with the old flint-lock musket, sometimes loaded with a handful of hard peas, i used to haunt the edges of the cornfield, watching for the little striped-backed culprits. how remorselessly i used to kill them! in those days there were a dozen where there is barely one now. the woods literally swarmed with them, and when beechnuts and acorns were scarce they were compelled to poach upon the farmer's crops. it was to reduce them and other pests that shooting matches were held. two men would choose sides as in the spelling matches, seven or eight or more were on a side, and the side that brought in the most trophies at the end of the week won and the losing side had to pay for the supper at the village hotel for the whole crowd. a chipmunk's tail counted one, a red squirrel's three, a gray squirrel's still more. hawks' heads and owls' heads counted as high as ten, i think. crows' heads also counted pretty high. one man who had little time to hunt engaged me to help him, offering me so much per dozen units. i remember that i found up in the sap bush a brood of young screech owls just out of the nest and i killed them all. that man is still owing me for those owls. what a lot of motley heads and tails were brought in at the end of the week! i never saw them but wish i had. repeated shooting matches of this kind, in different parts of the state, so reduced the small wild life, especially the chipmunks, that it has not yet recovered, and probably never will. in those days the farmer's hand was against nearly every wild thing. we used to shoot and trap crows and hen hawks and small hawks as though they were our mortal enemies. farmers were wont to stand up poles in their meadows and set steel traps on the top of them to catch the hen hawks that came for the meadow mice which were damaging their meadows. the hen hawk is so named because he rarely or never catches a hen or a chicken. he is a mouser. we used to bait the hungry crows in spring with "deacon" legs and shoot them without mercy, and all because they now and then pulled a little corn, forgetting or not knowing of the grubs and worms they pulled and the grasshoppers they ate. but all this is changed and now our sable friends and the high-soaring hawks are seldom molested. the fool with a rifle is very apt to shoot an eagle if the chance comes to him, but he has to be very sly about it. the buttercups and the daisies would be blooming when we were working the road, and the timothy grass about ready to do so--pointing to the near approach of the great event of the season, the one major task toward which so many other things pointed--"haying;" the gathering of our hundred or more tons of meadow hay. this was always a hard-fought campaign. our weapons were gotten ready in due time, new scythes and new snaths, new rakes and new forks, the hay riggings repaired or built anew, etc. shortly after the fourth of july the first assault upon the legions of timothy would be made in the lodged grass below the barn. our scythes would turn up great swaths that nearly covered the ground and that put our strength to a severe test. when noon came we would go to the house with shaking knees. the first day of haying meant nearly a whole day with the scythe, and was the most trying of all. after that a half day mowing, when the weather was good, meant work in curing and hauling each afternoon. from the first day in early july till the end of august we lived for the hayfield. no respite except on rainy days and sundays, and no change except from one meadow to another. no eight-hour days then, rather twelve and fourteen, including the milking. no horse rakes, no mowing machines or hay tedders or loading or pitching devices then. the scythe, the hand rake, the pitchfork in the calloused hands of men and boys did the work, occasionally the women even taking a turn with the rake or in mowing away. i remember the first wire-toothed horse rake with its two handles, which when the day was hot and the grass heavy nearly killed both man and horse. the holder would throw his weight upon it to make it grip and hold the hay, and then, in a spasm of energy, lift it up and make it drop the hay. from this rude instrument, through various types of wooden and revolving rakes, the modern wheeled rake, with which the raker rides at his ease, has been evolved. at this season the cows were brought to the yard by or before five, breakfast was at six, lunch in the field at ten, dinner at twelve, and supper at five, with milking and hay drawing and heaping up till sundown. those mid-forenoon lunches of mother's good rye bread and butter, with crullers or gingerbread, and in august a fresh green cucumber and a sweating jug of water fresh from the spring--sweating, not as we did, because it was hot, but because it was cold, partaken under an ash or a maple tree--how sweet and fragrant the memory of it all is to me! till i reached my 'teens it was my task to spread hay and to rake after; later i took my turn with the mowers and pitchers. i never loaded, hence i never pitched over the big beam. how father watched the weather! the rain that makes the grass ruins the hay. if the morning did not promise a good hay day our scythes would be ground but hung back in their places. when a thunderstorm was gathering in the west and much hay was ready for hauling, how it quickened our steps and our strokes! it was the sound of the guns of the approaching foe. in one hour we would do, or try to do, the work of two. how the wagon would rattle over the road, how the men would mop their faces and how i, while hurrying, would secretly exult that now i would have an hour to finish my crossbow or to work on my pond in the pasture lot! those late summer afternoons after the shower--what man who has spent his youth on the farm does not recall them! the high-piled thunder heads of the retreating storm above the eastern mountains, the moist fresh smell of the hay and the fields, the red puddles in the road, the robins singing from the tree tops, the washed and cooler air and the welcomed feeling of relaxation which they brought. it was a good time now to weed the garden, to grind the scythes, and do other odd jobs. when the haying was finished, usually late in august, in my time, there was usually a let-up for a few days. i was the seventh child in a family of ten children: hiram, olly ann, wilson, curtis, edmond, and jane came before me; eden, abigail, and eveline came after me. all were as unlike me in those mental qualities by which i am known to the world as you can well conceive, but all were like me in their more fundamental family traits. we all had the same infirmities of character: we were all tenderfeet--lacking in grit, will power, self-assertion, and the ability to deal with men. we were easily crowded to the wall, easily cheated, always ready to take a back seat, timid, complying, undecided, obstinate but not combative, selfish but not self-asserting, always the easy victims of pushing, coarse-grained, designing men. as with father, the word came easy but the blow was slow to follow. only a year or two ago a lightning-rod man made my brother curtis and his son john have his rods put upon their barn against their wills. they did not want his rods but could not say "no" with enough force. he simply held them up and made them take his rods, willy nilly. curtis had maps, books, washing machines, etc., forced upon him in the same way. i am able to resist the tree men, book agents, etc., and the lightning-rod man, for a wonder, found me a decided non-conductor; but i can see how my weaker brothers failed. i have settled a lawsuit rather than fight it out when i knew law and justice were on my side. my wife has often said that i never knew when i was imposed upon. i may know it and yet feel that resenting it would cause me more pain than the affront did. strife and contention kill me, yet come easy to me, and did to all my family. my sense of personal dignity, personal honour, is not a plant of such tender growth that it cannot stand rough winds and nipping frosts. that is a flattering way of saying that we are a very non-chivalrous tribe and would rather run away than fight any time. during the anti-rent war in delaware county in , father, who was a "down renter," once fled to a neighbour's house when he saw the posse coming and took refuge under the bed, leaving his feet sticking out. father never denied it and never seemed a bit humiliated when twitted about it. grandfather kelly seems to have used up all our fighting blood in campaigning with washington, though i more than half suspect that our noncombativeness comes from the paternal side of the family. as a school boy i never had a fight, nor have i ever dealt or received a hostile blow since. and i never saw but one of my brothers fight at school, and he fought the meanest boy in school and punished him well. i can see him now, sitting on the prostrate form of the boy, with his hands clinched in the boy's hair and jamming his face down into the crusty snow till the blood streamed down his face. the nearest i ever came to a fight at school was when, one noontime, we were playing baseball and a boy of my own age and size got angry at me and dared me to lay my hand on him. i did it quickly, but his bite did not follow his bark. i was never whipped at school or at home that i can remember, though i no doubt often deserved it. there was a good deal of loud scolding in our family but very few blows. father and mother had a pretty hard struggle to pay for the farm and to clothe and feed and school us all. we lived off the products of the farm to an extent that people do not think of doing nowadays. not only was our food largely home grown but our clothes also were home grown and home spun. in my early youth our house linen and our summer shirts and trousers were made from flax that grew on the farm. those pioneer shirts, how vividly i remember them! they dated from the stump, and bits of the stump in the shape of "shives" were inwoven in their texture and made the wearer of them an unwilling penitent for weeks, or until use and the washboard had subdued them. peas in your shoes are no worse than "shives" on your shirt. but those tow shirts stood by you. if you lost your hold in climbing a tree and caught on a limb your shirt or your linen trousers would hold you. the stuff from which they were made had a history behind it--pulled up by the roots, rooted on the ground, broken with a crackle, flogged with a swingle, and drawn through a hetchel, and out of all this ordeal came the flax. how clearly i remember father working with it in the bright, sharp march days, breaking it, then swingling it with a long wooden sword-like tool over the end of an upright board fixed at the base in a heavy block. this was to separate the brittle fragments of the bark from the fibres of the flax. then in large handfuls he drew it through the hetchel--an instrument with a score or more long sharp iron teeth, set in a board, row behind row. this combed out the tow and other worthless material. it was a mighty good discipline for the flax; it straightened out its fibres and made it as clear and straight as a girl's tresses. out of the tow we twisted bag strings, flail strings, and other strings. with the worthless portions we made huge bonfires. the flax, mother would mass upon her distaff and spin into threads. the last i saw of the old crackle, fifty or more years ago, it served as a hen roost under the shed, and the savage old hetchel was doing duty behind the old churner when he sulked and pulled back so as to stop the churning machine. it was hetcheling wool then instead of flax. the flax was spun on a quill which ran by the foot and the quills or spools holding the thread were used in a shuttle when the cloth was woven. the old loom stood in the hog-pen chamber, and there mother wove her linen, her rag carpets, and her woollen goods. i have "quilled" for her many a time--that is, run the yarn off the reel into spools for use in the shuttle. father had a flock of sheep which yielded wool enough for our stockings, mittens, comforts, and underwear, and woollen sheets and comforts for the beds. i have some of those home-made woollen sheets and bed covers now at slabsides. before the sheep were sheared in june they were driven two miles to the creek to be washed. washing-sheep-day was an event on the farm. it was no small task to get the sheep off the mountain, drive them to the deep pool behind old jonas more's grist mill, pen them up there, and drag them one by one into the water and make good clean baptists of them! but sheep are no fighters, they struggle for a moment and then passively submit to the baptism. my older brothers usually did the washing and i the herding. when the shearing was done, a few days later the poor creatures were put through another ordeal, to which after a brief struggle they quickly resigned themselves. father did the shearing, while i at times held the animal's legs. father was not an adept hand with the shears and the poor beast usually had to part with many a bit of her hide along with her fleece. it used to make me wince as much as it did the sheep to see the crests of those little wrinkles in her skin clipped off. i used to wonder how the sheep knew one another and how the lambs knew their mothers when shorn of their fleeces. but they did. the wool was soon sent to the fulling mill and made into rolls, though i have seen it carded and made into rolls at home by hand. how many bundles of rolls tied up into sheets i have seen come home! then in the long summer afternoons i would hear the hum of the big spinning wheel in the chamber and hear the tread of the girl as she ran it, walking to and fro and drawing out and winding up the yarn. the white rolls, ten inches or more long and the thickness of one's finger, would lie in a pile on the beam of the wheel and one by one would be attached to the spindle and drawn out into yarn of the right size. each new roll was welded on to the end of the one that went before it so that the yarn did not show the juncture. but now for more than sixty years the music of the spinning wheel has not been heard in the land. mother used to pick her geese in the barn where father used to shear the sheep; and to help gather in the flock was a part of my duty also. the geese would submit to the plucking about as readily as the sheep to the shearing, but they presented a much more ragged and sorry appearance after they had been fleeced than did the sheep. it used to amuse me to see them put their heads together and talk it over and laugh and congratulate each other over the victory they had just won!--they had got out of the hands of the enemy with only the loss of a few feathers which they would not want in the warm weather! the goose is the one inhabitant that cackles as loudly and as cheerfully over a defeat as over a victory. they are so complacent and optimistic that it is a comfort to me to see them about. the very silliness of the goose is a lesson in wisdom. the pride of a plucked gander makes one take courage. i think it quite probable that we learned our habit of hissing our dissent from the goose, and maybe our other habit of trying sometimes to drown an opponent with noise has a like origin. the goose is silly and shallow-pated; yet what dignity and impressiveness in her migrating wild clans driving in ordered ranks across the spring or autumnal skies, linking the chesapeake bay and the canadian lakes in one flight! the great forces are loosened and winter is behind them in one case, and the tides of spring bear them on in the other. when i hear the trumpet of the wild geese in the sky i know that dramatic events in the seasonal changes are taking place. i was the only one of the ten children who, as father said, "took to larnin'," though in seventy-five years of poring over books and periodicals i have not become "learned." but i easily distanced the other children in school. the others barely learned to read and write and cipher a little, curtis and wilson barely that, hiram got into greenleaf's grammar and learned to parse, but never to write or speak correctly, and he ciphered nearly through dayball's arithmetic. i went through dayball and then thompkins and perkins and got well on into algebra in the district school. my teacher, however, when i was about thirteen or fourteen, did not seem much impressed by my aptitude, for i recall that he told other scholars, boys and girls of about my own age, to get them each a grammar, but did not tell me. i felt a little slighted but made up my mind i would have a grammar also. father refusing to buy it for me, i made small cakes of maple sugar in the spring and, peddling them in the village, got money enough to buy the grammar and other books. the teacher was a little taken aback when i produced my book as the others did theirs, but he put me in the class and i kept along with the rest of them, but without any idea that the study had any practical bearing on our daily speaking and writing. that teacher was a superior man, a graduate of the state normal school at albany, but i failed to impress him with my scholarly aptitudes, which certainly were not remarkable. but long afterward, when he had read some of my earlier magazine articles, he wrote to me, asking if i were indeed his early farm boy pupil. his interest and commendation gave me rare pleasure. i had at last justified that awkward intrusion into his grammar class. much later in life, after he had migrated to kansas, while on a visit east he called upon me when i chanced to be in my native town. this gave me a still deeper pleasure. he died in kansas many years ago and is buried there. i have journeyed through the state many times and always remember that it holds the ashes of my old teacher. it is a satisfaction for me to write his name, james oliver, in this record. i was in many respects an odd one in my father's family. i was like a graft from some other tree. and this is always a disadvantage to a man--not to be the logical outcome of what went before him, not to be backed up by his family and inheritance--to be of the nature of a sport. it seems as if i had more intellectual capital than i was entitled to and robbed some of the rest of the family, while i had a full measure of the family weaknesses. i can remember how abashed i used to be as a child when strangers or relatives, visiting us for the first time, after looking the rest of the children over, would ask, pointing to me, "that is not your boy--whose is he?" i have no idea that i looked different from the others, because i can see the family stamp upon my face very plainly until this day. my face resembles hiram's more than any of the others, and i have a deeper attachment for him than for any of the rest of my brothers. hiram was a dreamer, too, and he had his own idealism which expressed itself in love of bees, of which he kept many hives at one time, and of fancy stock, sheep, pigs, poultry, and a desire to see other lands. his bees and fancy stock never paid him, but he always expected they would the next year. but they yielded him honey and wool of a certain intangible, satisfying kind. to be the owner of a cotswold ram or ewe for which he had paid one hundred dollars or more gave him rare satisfaction. one season, in his innocence, he took some of his fancy sheep to the state fair at syracuse, not knowing that an unknown outsider stood no chance at all on such an occasion. hiram always had to have some sort of a plaything. though no hunter and an indifferent marksman, he had during his life several fancy rifles. once when he came to washington to visit me, he brought his rifle with him, carrying the naked weapon in his hand or upon his shoulder. the act was merely the whim of a boy who likes to take his playthings with him. hiram certainly had not come to "shoot up" the town. in the early ' 's he had a fifty-dollar rifle made by a famous rifle maker in utica. there was some hitch or misunderstanding about it and hiram made the trip to utica on foot. i was at home that summer and i recall seeing him start off one june day, wearing a black coat, bent on his fifty-mile walk to see about his pet rifle. of course nothing came of it. the rifle maker had hiram's money, and he put him off with fair words; then something happened and the gun never came to hiram's hand. another plaything of his was a kettle drum with which he amused himself in the summer twilight for many seasons. then he got a bass drum which curtis learned to play, and a very warlike sound often went up from the peaceful old homestead. when i was married and came driving home one october twilight with my wife, the martial music began as soon as we hove in sight of the house. early in the civil war, hiram seriously talked of enlisting as a drummer, but father and mother dissuaded him. i can see what a wretched homesick boy he would have been before one week had passed. for many years he was haunted with a desire to go west, and made himself really believe that the next month or the month after he would go. he kept his valise packed under his bed for more than a year, to be ready when the impulse grew strong enough. one fall it became strong enough to start him and carried him as far as white pigeon, michigan, where it left him stranded. after visiting a cousin who lived there he came back, and henceforth his western fever assumed only a low, chronic type. i tell you all these things about hiram because i am a chip out of the same block and see myself in him. his vain regrets, his ineffectual resolutions, his day-dreams, and his playthings--do i not know them all?--only nature in some way dealt a little more liberally with me and made many of my dreams come true. the dear brother!--he stood next to father and mother to me. how many times he broke the path for me through the winter snows on the long way to school! how faithful he was to write to me and to visit me wherever i was, after i left home! how he longed to follow my example and break away from the old place but could never quite screw his courage up to the sticking point! he never read one of my books but he rejoiced in all the good fortune that was mine. once when i was away at school and fell short of money, hiram sent me a small sum when father could not or would not send. in later life he got it paid back manyfold--and what a satisfaction it was to me thus to repay him! hiram was always a child, he never grew up, which is true of all of us, more or less, and true of father also. i was an odd one, but i shared all the family infirmities. in fact, i have always been an odd one amid most of my human relations in life. place me in a miscellaneous gathering of men and i separate from them, or they from me, like oil from water. i do not mix readily with my fellows. i am not conscious of drawing into my shell, as the saying is, but i am conscious of a certain strain put upon me by those about me. i suppose my shell or my skin is too thin. burbank experimented with walnuts trying to produce one with a thin shell, till he finally produced one with so thin a shell that the birds ate it up. well, the birds eat me up for the same reason, if i don't look out. i am social but not gregarious. i do not thrive in clubs, i do not smoke, or tell stories, or drink, or dispute, or keep late hours. i am usually as solitary as a bird of prey, though i trust not for the same reason. i love so much to float on the current of my own thoughts. i mix better with farmers, workers, and country people generally than with professional or business men. birds of a feather do flock together, and if we do not feel at ease in our company we may be sure we are in the wrong flock. once while crossing the continent at some station in minnesota a gray-bearded farmer-like man got on the train and presently began to look eagerly about the pullman as if to see what kind of company he was in. after a while his eye settled on me at the other end of the car. in a few minutes he came over to me and sat down beside me and began to tell me his story. he had come from germany as a young man and had lived fifty years on a farm in minnesota and now he was going back to visit the country of his birth. he had prospered and had left his sons in charge of his farm. what an air he had of a boy out of school! the adventure was warming his blood; he was going home and he wanted someone to whom he could tell the good news. i was probably the only real countryman in the car and he picked me out at once, some quality of rural things hovered about us both and drew us together. i felt that he had paid me an involuntary compliment. how unsophisticated and communicative he was! so much so that i took it upon myself to caution him against the men he was liable to fall in with in new york. i should like to know if he reached the fatherland safely and returned to his minnesota farm. when i was a boy six or seven years old a quack phrenologist stopped at our house and father kept him over night. in the morning he fingered the bumps of all of us to pay for his lodging and breakfast. when he came to my head i remember he grew enthusiastic. "this boy will be a rich man," he said. "his head beats 'em all." and he enlarged on the great wealth i was to accumulate. i forget the rest; but that my bumps were nuggets of gold under the quack's fingers, this i have not forgotten. the prophecy never came true, though more money did come my way than to any of the rest of the family. three of my brothers, at least, were not successful from a business point of view, and while i myself have failed in every business venture i ever undertook--beginning with that first speculative stroke sometime in the 'forties when, one march morning, i purchased the prospective sap of curtis's two maple trees for four cents; yet a certain success from a bread-and-butter point of view has been mine. father took less stock in me than in the other boys--mainly, i suppose, on account of my early proclivity for books; hence it was a deep satisfaction to me, when his other sons had failed him and loaded the old farm with debt, that i could come back and be able to take the burden of the debts upon myself and save the farm from going into strange hands. but it was my good fortune, a kind of constitutional good luck and not any business talent that enabled me to do so. remembering the prediction of the old quack phrenologist, i used to have my dreams when a boy, especially on one occasion, i remember, when i was tending the sap kettles in the sugar bush on a bright april day, of gaining great wealth and coming home in imposing style and astonishing the natives with my display. how different the reality from the boy's dream! i came back indeed with a couple of thousand dollars in my pocket (on my bank book), sorrowing and oppressed, more like a pilgrim doing penance than like a conqueror returning from his victories. but we kept the old farm, and as you know, it still plays an important part in my life though i passed the title to my brother many years ago. it is my only home, other homes that i have had were mere camping places for a day and night. but the wealth which my bumps indicated turned out to be of a very shadowy and uncommercial kind, yet of a kind that thieves cannot steal or panics disturb. i remember the first day i went to school, probably near my fifth year. it was at the old stone school house, about one and a half miles from home. i recall vividly the suit mother made for the occasion out of some striped cotton goods with a pair of little flaps or hound's ears upon my shoulders that tossed about as i ran. i accompanied olly ann, my oldest sister. at each one of the four houses we passed on the way i asked, "who lives there?" i have no recollection of what happened at school those first days, but i remember struggling with the alphabet soon thereafter; the letters were arranged in a column, the vowels first, a, e, i, o, u, and then the consonants. the teacher would call us to her chair three or four times a day, and opening the cobb's spelling-book, point to the letters one by one and ask me to name them, drilling them into me in that way. i remember that one of the boys, older than i, hen meeker, on one occasion stuck on "e." "i'll bet little johnny burris can tell what that letter is. come up here, johnny." up i went and promptly answered, to the humiliation of hen, "e." "i told you so," said the school marm. how long it took me to learn the alphabet in this arbitrary manner i do not know. but i remember tackling the a, b, abs, and slowly mastering those short columns. i remember also getting down under the desk and tickling the bare ankles of the big girls that sat in the seat in front of me. the summer days were long and little boys must sit on the hard seats and be quiet and go out only at the regular recess. the seat i sat on was a slab turned flat side up and supported on four legs cut from a sapling. my feet did not touch the floor and i suppose i got very tired. one afternoon the oblivion of sleep came over me and when i came to consciousness again i was in a neighbour's house on a couch and the "smell of camphor pervaded the room." i had fallen off the seat backward and hit my head on the protruding stones of the unplastered wall behind me and cut a hole in it, and i suppose for the moment effectively scattered my childish wits. but mrs. reed was a motherly body and consoled me with flowers and sweets and bathed my wounds with camphor and i suppose little johnny was soon himself again. i have often wondered if a small bony protuberance on the back of my head dated from that collision with the old stone school house. another early remembrance connected with the old stone school house is that of seeing hiram, during the summer noons, catch fish in a pail back of old jonas more's grist mill and put them in the pot holes in the red sandstone rocks, to be kept there till we went home at night. then he took them in his dinner pail and put them in his pond down in the pasture lot. i suspect that it was this way that chubs were introduced into the west settlement trout stream. the fish used to swim around and around in the pot holes seeking a way to escape. i would put my finger into the water but jerk it back quickly as the fish came around. i was afraid of them. but before that i was once scared into a panic by a high-soaring hen hawk. i have probably pointed out to you where, one summer day, as i was going along the road out on what we called the big hill, i looked skyward and saw a big hen hawk describing his large circles about me. a sudden fear fell upon me, and i took refuge behind the stone wall. still earlier in my career i had my first panic farther along on this same road. i suppose i had started off on my first journey to explore the world when, getting well down the deacon road beside the woods, i looked back and, seeing how far i was from home, was seized with a sudden consternation and turned and ran back as fast as i could go. i have seen a young robin do the same thing when it had wandered out a yard or so on the branch away from its nest. i mastered only my a-b-c's at the old stone school house. a year or two later we were sent off in the west settlement district and i went to school at a little unpainted school house with a creek on one side of it and toeing squarely on the highway on the other. this also was about one and a half miles from home, an easy, adventurous journey in the summer with the many allurements of fields, stream, and wood, but in winter often a battle with snow and cold. in winter we went across lots, my elder brothers breaking a path through the fields and woods. how the tracks in the snow--squirrels, hares, skunks, foxes--used to excite my curiosity! and the line of ledges off on the left in the woods where brother wilson used to set traps for skunks and coons--how they haunted my imagination as i caught dim glimpses of them, trudging along in our narrow path! one mild winter morning, after i had grown to be a boy of twelve or thirteen, my younger brother and i had an adventure with a hare. he sat in his form in the deep snow between the roots of a maple tree that stood beside the path. we were almost upon him before we discovered him. as he did not move i withdrew a few yards to a stone wall and armed myself with a boulder the size of my fist. returning, i let drive, sure of my game, but i missed by a foot, and the hare bounded away over the wall and out into the open and off for the hemlocks a quarter of a mile away. a rabbit in his form only ten feet away does not so easily become a rabbit in the hand. this desire of the farm boy to slay every wild creature he saw was universal in my time. i trust things have changed in this respect since then. at the little old school house i had many teachers, bill bouton, bill allaben, taylor grant, jason powell, rossetti cole, rebecca scudder, and others. i got well into dayball's arithmetic, olney's geography, and read hall's history of the united states--through the latter getting quite familiar with the indian wars and the french war and the revolution. some books in the district library also attracted me. i think i was the only one of the family that took books from the library. i recall especially "murphy, the indian killer" and the "life of washington." the latter took hold of me; i remember one summer sunday, as i was playing through the house with my older brothers, of stopping to read a certain passage of it aloud, and that it moved me so that i did not know whether i was in the body or out. many times i read that passage and every time i was submerged, as it were, by a wave of emotion. i mention so trifling a matter only to show how responsive i was to literature at an early age. i should perhaps offset this statement by certain other facts which are by no means so flattering. there was a period in my latter boyhood when comic song-books, mostly of the negro minstrely sort, satisfied my craving for poetic literature. i used to learn the songs by heart and invent and extemporize tunes for them. to this day i can repeat some of those rank negro songs. my taste for books began early, but my taste for good literature was of a much later and of slow growth. my interest in theological and scientific questions antedated my love of literature. during the last half of my 'teens i was greatly interested in phrenology and possessed a copy of spurzheim's "phrenology," and of comb's "constitution of man." i also subscribed to fowler's _phrenological journal_ and for years accepted the phrenologists' own estimate of the value of their science. and i still see some general truths in it. the size and shape of the brain certainly give clues to the mind within, but its subdivision into many bumps, or numerous small areas, like a garden plot, from each one of which a different crop is produced, is absurd. certain bodily functions are localized in the brain, but not our mental and emotional traits--veneration, self-esteem, sublimity--these are attributes of the mind as a unit. as i write these lines i am trying to see wherein i differed from my brothers and from other boys of my acquaintance. i certainly had a livelier interest in things and events about me. when mr. mclaurie proposed to start an academy in the village and came there to feel the pulse of the people and to speak upon the subject i believe i was the only boy in his audience. i was probably ten or twelve years of age. at one point in his address the speaker had occasion to use me to illustrate his point: "about the size of that boy there," he said, pointing to me, and my face flushed with embarrassment. the academy was started and i hoped in a few years to attend it. but the time when father could see his way to send me there never came. one season when i was fifteen or sixteen, i set my heart on going to school at harpersfield. a boy whom i knew in the village attended it and i wanted to accompany him. father talked encouragingly and held it out as a possible reward if i helped hurry the farm work along. this i did, and for the first time taking to field with the team and plough and "summer fallowing" one of the oat-stubble lots. i followed the plough those september days with dreams of harpersfield academy hovering about me, but the reality never came. father concluded, after i had finished my job of ploughing, that he could not afford it. butter was low and he had too many other ways for using his money. i think it quite possible that my dreams gave me the best there was in harpersfield anyway--a worthy aspiration is never lost. all these things differentiate me from my brothers. my interest in theological questions showed itself about the same time. an itinerant lecturer with a smooth, ready tongue came to the village charged with novel ideas about the immortality of the soul, accepting the literal truth of the text "the soul that sinneth, it shall die." i attended the meetings and took notes of the speaker's glib talk. i distinctly remember that it was from his mouth that i first heard the word "encyclopaedia." when he cited the "encyclopaedia britannica" in confirmation of some statement, i had no doubt of its truth, and i resolved sometime to get my hands on that book. i still have those notes and references that i took sixty years ago. at a much earlier stage of my mental development i had a passion for drawing, but, quite unguided, it resulted only in a waste of paper. i wanted to walk before i could creep, to paint before i could draw, and getting a box of cheap water colours, i indulged my crude artistic instincts. my most ambitious piece was a picture of general winfield scott standing beside his horse and some piece of artillery, which i copied from a print. it was of course an awful daub, but in connection with it i heard for the first time a new word,--the word "taste" used in its aesthetic sense. one of the neighbour women was calling at the house, and seeing my picture said to mother, "what taste that boy has." that application of the word made an impression on me that i have never forgotten. about this time i heard another new word. we were working on the road, and i with my hoe was working beside an old quaker farmer, david corbin, who used to be a school teacher. a large flat stone was turned over, and beneath it in some orderly arrangement were some smaller stones. "here are some antiquities," said mr. corbin, and my vocabulary received another addition. a new word or a new thing was very apt to make its mark upon my mind. i have told elsewhere what a revelation to me was my first glimpse of one of the warblers, the black-throated blue-back, indicating as it did a world of bird life of which i had never dreamed, the bird life in the inner heart of the woods. my brothers and other boys were with me but they did not see the new bird. the first time i saw the veery, or wilson's thrush, also stands out in my memory. it alighted in the road before us on the edge of the woods. "a brown thrasher," said bill chase. it was not the thrasher but it was a new bird to me and the picture of it is in my mind as if made only yesterday. natural history was a subject unknown to me in my boyhood, and such a thing as nature study in the schools was of course unheard of. our natural history we got unconsciously in the sport at noon time, or on our way to and from school or in our sunday excursions to the streams and woods. we learned much about the ways of foxes and woodchucks and coons and skunks and squirrels by hunting them. the partridge, too, and the crows, hawks, and owls, and the song birds of the field and orchard, all enter into the farm boy's life. i early became familiar with the songs and habits of all the common birds, and with field mice and the frogs, toads, lizards, and snakes. also with the wild bees and wasps. one season i made a collection of bumblebee honey, studying the habits of five or six different kinds and rifling their nests. i kept my store of bumble-bee honey in the attic where i had a small box full of the comb and a large phial filled with the honey. how well i came to know the different dispositions of the various kinds--the small red-vested that made its nest in a hole in the ground; the small black-vested, the large black-vested, the yellow-necked, the black-banded, etc., that made their nests in old mice nests in the meadow or in the barn and other places. i used to watch and woo the little piping frogs in the spring marshes when i had driven the cows to pasture at night, till they would sit in my open hand and pipe. i used to creep on my hands and knees through the woods to see the partridge in the act of drumming. i used to watch the mud wasps building their nests in the old attic and noted their complaining cry while in the act of pressing on the mud. i noted the same complaining cry from the bees when working on the flower of the purple-flowering raspberry, what we called "scotch caps." i tried to trap foxes and soon learned how far the fox's cunning surpassed mine. my first lesson in animal psychology i got from old nat higby as he came riding by on horseback one winter day, his huge feet almost meeting under the horse, just as a hound was running a fox across our upper mountain lot. "my boy," he said, "that fox may be running as fast as he can, but if you stood behind that big rock beside his course, and as he came along should jump out and shout 'hello,' he would run faster." that was the winter when in fond imagination i saw a stream of silver dollars coming my way from the red foxes i was planning to deprive of their pelts when they needed them most. i have told elsewhere of my trapping experiences and how completely i failed. i was born at roxbury, n. y., april , . at least two other american authors of note were born on the third of april--washington irving and edward everett hale. the latter once wrote me a birthday letter in which he said, among other things, "i have been looking back over my diaries to see what i was doing the day you were being born. i find i was undergoing an examination in logic at harvard college." the only other american author born in is william dean howells, who was born in ohio in march of that year. i was the son of a farmer, who was the son of a farmer, who was again the son of a farmer. there are no professional or commercial men in my line for several generations, my blood has the flavour of the soil in it; it is rural to the last drop. i can find no city dwellers in the line of my descent in this country. the burroughs tribe, as far back as i can find any account of them, were mainly countrymen and tillers of the soil. the rev. george burroughs, who was hung as a witch at salem, mass., in , may have been of the family, though i can find no proof of it. i wanted to believe that he was and in i made a visit to salem and to gallows hill to see the spot where he, the last victim of the witchcraft craze, ended his life. there is no doubt that the renegade preacher, stephen burroughs, who stole a lot of his father's sermons and set up as a preacher and forger on his own account about , was a third or fourth cousin of my father's. farmers with a decidedly religious bent contributed the main elements of my personality. i was a countryman dyed in the wool, yea, more than that, born and bred in the bone, and my character is fundamentally reverent and religious. the religion of my fathers underwent in me a kind of metamorphosis and became something which would indeed have appeared like rank atheism to them, but which was nevertheless full of the very essence of true religion--love, reverence, wonder, unworldliness, and devotion to ideal truth--but in no way identified with church or creed. i used to feel that my religious temperament was as clearly traceable to the hard calvinism of my fathers, as the stratified sandstone is traceable to the old granite rock, but that it had undergone a sea change as had the sandstone, or in my case a science change through the activity of the mind and of the age in which i lived. it was rationalism touched with mysticism and warm with poetic emotion. my paternal grandfather and great-grandfather came from near bridgeport in connecticut about the end of the revolution and settled in stamford, delaware county, new york. captain stephen burroughs of bridgeport, a mathematician and a man of note in his time, was father's great uncle. father used to say that his uncle stephen could build a ship and sail it around the world. the family name is still common in and about bridgeport. the first john burroughs of whom i can find any record came to this country from the west indies and settled in stratford, conn., about . he had ten children, and ten children to a family was the rule down to my own father. one october while on a cruise with a small motor boat on long island sound, stress of weather compelled us to seek shelter in black rock harbour, which is a part of bridgeport. in the morning we went ashore, and as we were walking up a street seeking the trolley line to take us into the city, we saw a large brick building with the legend on it--"the burroughs home." i felt like going in and claiming its hospitality--after our rough experience on the sound its look and its name were especially inviting. some descendant of captain stephen burroughs was probably its founder. my great-grandfather, ephraim, i believe, died in , and was buried in the town of stamford in a field that is now cultivated. my grandfather, eden burroughs, died in roxbury in , aged , and my father, chauncey a. burroughs, in at the age of . my maternal grandfather, edmund kelly, was irish, though born in this country about . it is from his irish strain that i get many of my celtic characteristics--my decidedly feminine temperament. i always felt that i was more a kelly than a burroughs. grandfather kelly was a small man, with a big head and marked irish features. he entered the continental army when a mere lad in some menial capacity, but before the end he carried a musket in the ranks. he was with washington at valley forge and had many stories to tell of their hardships. he was upward of seventy-five years old when i first remember him--a little man in a blue coat with brass buttons. he and granny used to come to our house once or twice a year for a week or two at a time. their permanent home was with uncle martin kelly in red kill, eight miles away. i remember him as a great angler. how many times in the may or june mornings, as soon as he had had his breakfast, have i seen him digging worms and getting ready to go a-fishing up montgomery hollow or over in meeker's hollow, or over in west settlement! you could always be sure he would bring home a nice string of trout. occasionally i was permitted to go with him. how nimbly he would walk, even when he was over eighty, and how skilfully he would take the trout! i was an angler myself before i was ten, but grandfather would take trout from places in the stream where i would not think it worth while to cast my hook. but i never fished when i went with him, i carried the fish and watched him. the pull home, often two or three miles, tried my young legs, but grandfather would show very little fatigue, and i know he did not have the ravenous hunger i always had when i went fishing, so much so that i used to think there was in this respect something peculiar about going fishing. one hour along the trout streams would develop more hunger in me than half a day hoeing corn or working on the road--a peculiarly fierce, all-absorbing desire for food, so that a piece of rye bread and butter was the most delicious thing in the world. i remember that one june day my cousin and i, when we were about seven or eight years old, set out for meeker's hollow for trout. it was a pull of over two miles and over a pretty hard hill. our courage held out until we reached the creek, but we were too hungry to fish; we turned homeward and fed upon the wild strawberries in the pastures and meadows we passed through and they kept us alive until we reached home. oh, that youthful hunger beside the trout stream, was there ever anything else like it in the world! grandfather kelly was a fisherman nearly up to the year of his death at the age of eighty-eight. he had few of the world's goods and he did not want them. his only vice was plug tobacco, his only recreation was angling, and his only reading the bible. how long and attentively would he pore over the book!--but i never heard him comment upon it or express any religious opinion or conviction. he believed in witches and hobgoblins: he had seen them and experienced them and used to tell us stories that almost made us afraid of our own shadows. my own youthful horror of darkness, and of dark rooms and recesses and cellars even in the daytime, was due no doubt largely to grandfather's blood-curdling tales. yet i may be wrong about this, for i remember a fearful experience i had when i was a child of three or four years. i see myself with some of the other children cowering in a corner of the old kitchen at night with my eyes fixed on the black space of the open door of the bedroom occupied by my father and mother. they were out for the evening and we were waiting for their return. the agony of that waiting i shall never forget. whether or not the other children shared my fear i do not remember; probably they did, and maybe communicated their fear to me. i could not take my eyes off the entrance to that black cavern, though of what i may have fancied it held that would hurt me i have no idea. it was only the child's inherited fear of the dark, the unknown, the mysterious. grandfather's stories, no doubt, strengthened that fear. it clung to me all through my boyhood and until my fifteenth or sixteenth year and was peculiarly acute about my twelfth and thirteenth years. the road through the woods at twilight, the barn, the wagon house, the cellar set my imagination on tiptoe. if i had to pass the burying ground up on the hill by the roadside in the dark, i did so very gingerly. i was too scared to run for fear the ghosts of all the dead buried there would be at my heels. probably i get my love for the contemplative life and for nature more through my mother than through my father; mother had the self-consciousness of the celt, father not at all, though he had the celtic temperament: red hair and freckles! the red-haired, freckled, harsh-voiced little man made a great deal of noise about the farm--shouting at the stock, sending the dog after the cows or after the pigs in the garden, or calling his orders to us in the field or shouting back his directions for the work after he had started for the beaver dam village. but his bark was always more to be feared than his bite. he would threaten loudly but punish mildly or not at all. but he improved the fields, he cleared the woods, he battled with the rocks and the stones, he paid his debts and he kept his faith. he was not a man of sentiment, though he was a man of feeling. he was easily moved to tears and had strong religious convictions and emotions. these emotions often found vent in his reading his hymn book aloud in a curious undulating sing-song tone. he knew nothing of what we call love of nature and he owed little or nothing to books after his schoolboy days. he usually took two weekly publications--an albany or a new york newspaper and a religious paper called _the signs of the times_, the organ of the old school baptist church, of which he was a member. he never asked me about my own books and i doubt that he ever looked into one of them. how far the current of my thoughts and interests ran from the current of his thoughts and interests! literature he had never heard of, science and philosophy were an unknown world to him. religion (hard predestinarianism), politics (democratic), and farming took up all his thoughts and time. he had no desire to travel, he was not a hunter or fisherman, and the shows and vanities of the world disturbed him not. when i grew to crave schooling and books he was disturbed lest i become a methodist minister--his special aversion. religion on such easy and wholesale terms as that of his methodist neighbours made his nostrils dilate with contempt. but literature was an enemy he had never heard of. a writer of books had no place in his category of human occupations; and as for a poet, he would probably have ranked him with the dancing master. yet late in life, when he saw my picture in a magazine, he is said to have shed tears. poor father, his heart was tender, but concerning so much that fills and moves the world, his mind was dark. he was a good farmer, a helpful neighbour, a devoted parent and husband, and he did well the work in the world which fell to his lot to do. the narrowness and bigotry of his class and church and time were his, but probity of character, ready good will, and a fervent religious nature were his also. his heart was much softer than his creed. he might scoff at his neighbour's religion or politics, but he was ever ready to lend him a hand. the earliest memory i can recall of him dates back to a spring day in my early childhood. the "hired girl" had thrown my straw hat off the stonework into the road. in my grief and helplessness to punish her as i thought she merited, i looked up to the side hill above the house and saw father striding across the ploughed ground with a bag strung across his breast from which he was sowing grain. his measured strides, the white bag, and his regular swinging arm made a picture on the background of the red soil, all heightened no doubt by my excited state of mind, that stamped itself indelibly upon my memory. he strode across those hills with that bag suspended around his neck, sowing grain, for many years. another spring picture of him much later in life, when i was a man grown and home on a visit, comes to mind. i see him following a team of horses hitched to a harrow across a ploughed field, dragging in the oats. to and fro he goes all afternoon, the dust streaming behind him and the ground smoothing as his work progressed i suppose i had a feeling that i should have taken his place. he always got his crops in in season and gathered in season. his farm was his kingdom and he wanted no other. i can see him going about it, calling the dog, "hollering" at the cattle or the sheep or at the men at work in the fields, making a great deal of unnecessary noise, but always with an eye to his crops and to the best interests of the farm. he was a home body, had no desire to travel, little curiosity about other lands, except, maybe, bible lands, and felt an honest contempt for city ways and city people. he was as unaffected as a child and would ask a man his politics or a woman her age as soon as ask them the time of day. he had little delicacy of feeling on the conventional side but great tenderness of emotion on the purely human side. his candour was at times appalling, and he often brought a look of shame into mother's face. he had received a fairly good schooling for those times and had been a school teacher himself in the winter months. mother was one of his pupils when he taught in red kill. i passed the little school house recently and wondered if there was a counterpart of amy kelly among the few girls i saw standing about the door, or if there was a red-haired, freckled, country greenhorn at the teacher's desk inside. father was but once in new york, sometime in the ' 's, and never saw the capitol of his country or his state. and i am sure he never sat on a jury or had a lawsuit in my time. he took an interest in politics and was always a democrat, and during the civil war, i fear, a "copperhead." his religion saw no evil in slavery. i remember seeing him in some political procession during the harrison campaign of . he was with a gang of men standing up in a wagon from the midst of which rose a pole with a coon skin or a stuffed coon upon it. i suppose what i saw was part of a harrison political procession. father "experienced religion" in his early manhood and became a member of the old school baptist church. to become members of that church it was not enough that you wanted to lead a better life and serve god faithfully; you must have had a certain religious experience, have gone through a crisis as paul did, been convicted of sin in some striking manner, and have descended into the depths of humiliation and despair, and then, when all seemed lost, have heard the voice of forgiveness and acceptance and felt indeed that you were now a child of god. this crucial experience the candidate for church membership was called on to relate before the elders of the church, and if the story rang true, he or she was in due time enrolled in the company of the elect few. no doubt about its being a real experience with most of those people--a storm-and-stress period that lasted for weeks or months before the joy of peace and forgiveness came to their souls. i have heard some of those experiences and have read the record of many more in _the signs of the times_, which father took for more than fifty years. the conversion was radical and lasting, these men led changed lives ever after. with them once a child of god, always a child of god, reformation never miscarried. it was an iron-clad faith and it stood the wear and tear of life well. father was not ostentatiously religious. far from it. i have known him to draw in hay on sunday when a shower threatened, and once i saw him carry a gun when the pigeons were about; but he came back gameless with a guilty look when he saw me, and i think he never wavered in his old school baptist faith. there were no religious observances in the family and no religious instruction. father read his hymn book and his bible and at times his _signs_, but never compelled us to read them. his church did not believe in sunday-schools or in any sort of religious training. their preachers never prepared their sermons but spoke the words that the spirit put into their mouths. as they were mostly unlettered men the spirit had many sins of rhetoric and logic to answer for. their discourses did more credit to their hearts than to their heads. i recall some of their preachers, or elders, as they were called, very distinctly--elder jim mead, elder morrison, elder hewett, elder fuller, elder hubble--all farmers and unlearned in the lore of this world, but earnest men and some of them strong, picturesque characters. elder jim mead usually went barefooted during the summer, and mother once told me that he often preached barefooted in the school house. elder hewett was their strong man during my youth--a narrow and darkened mind tried by the wisdom of the schools, but a man of native force of character and often in his preaching attaining to a strain of true and lofty eloquence. his discourses, if their jumble of scriptural texts may be called such, were never a call to sinners to repent and be saved--god would attend to that himself--but a vehement justification from the scriptures of the old school baptist creed, or the doctrine of election and justification by faith, not by works. the methodists or arminians, as he called them, were a thorn in his side and he never tired of hurling his pauline texts at their cheap and easy terms of salvation. could he have been convinced that he must share heaven with the arminians, i believe he would have preferred to take his chance in the other place. religious intolerance is an ugly thing, but its days in this world are numbered, and the day of the old school baptist society seems numbered. their church, which was often crowded in my youth, is almost deserted now. this generation is too light and frivolous for such a heroic creed: the sons of the old members are not men enough to stand up under the moral weight of calvinism and predestination. absurd as the doctrine seems to us, it went with or begot something in those men and women of an earlier time--a moral fibre and depth of character--to which the later generations are strangers. of course those men were nearer the stump than we are and had more of the pioneer virtues and hardiness than we have, and struggles and victory or defeat were more a part of their lives than they are of ours, a hard creed with heroic terms of salvation fitted their moods better than it fits ours. my youthful faith in a jealous and vengeful god, which in some way had been instilled into my mind, was rudely shaken one summer day during a thunderstorm. the idea had somehow got into my head that if in any way we mocked the powers up above or became disrespectful toward them, vengeance would follow, quick and sure. at a loud peal overhead the boy i was playing with deliberately stuck up his scornful lips at the clouds and in other ways expressed his defiance. i fairly cringed in my tracks; i expected to see my companion smitten with a thunderbolt at my side. that i recall the incident so vividly shows what a deep impression it made upon me. but i have long ceased to think that the ruler of the storms sees or cares whether we make faces at the clouds or not--do your work well and make all the wry faces you please. my native mountain, out of whose loins i sprang, is called the old clump. it sits there with bare head but mantled sides, looking southward and holding the home farm of three hundred and fifty acres in its lap. the farm with its checkered fields lies there like a huge apron, reaching up over the smooth sloping thighs on the west and on the east and coming well up on the breast, forming the big rough mountain fields where the sheep and young cattle graze. those mountain pastures rarely knew the plough, but the broad side-hill fields, four of them, that cover the inside of the western thigh, have been alternately ploughed and grazed since my boyhood and before. they yield good crops of rye, oats, buckwheat, and potatoes, and fair summer grazing. in winter huge snow banks lie there just below the summit of the hill, blotting out the stone fences beneath eight or ten feet of snow. i have known these banks to linger there until the middle of may. i remember carrying a jug of water one hot may day to my brother curtis who was ploughing the upper and steepest side hill, and whose plough had nearly reached the edge of the huge snow bank. sometimes the woodchucks feel the call of spring in their dens in the ground beneath them and dig their way out through the coarse, granulated snow, leaving muddy tracks where they go. i have "carried together" both oats and rye in all these fields. one september, during the first year of the civil war, , we were working in the oats there and hiram was talking hourly of enlisting in the army as a drummer boy. when the cattle are grazing there, one may often see them from the road over the eastern leg of old clump which is lower, silhouetted against the evening sky. the bleating of the sheep in the still summer twilight on the bosom of old clump is also a sweet memory. so is the evening song of the vesper sparrow, which one may hear all summer long floating out from these sweet pastoral solitudes. from one of these side-hill fields, father and his hired man, rube dart, were once drawing oats on a sled when the load capsized while rube had his fork in it on the upper side trying to hold it down, and the fork with rube clinging to it described a complete circle in the air, rube landing on his feet below, none the worse for his adventure. grandfather's farm, which he and grandmother carved out of the wilderness in the last years of and where father was born in , lies just over the hill on the western knee of old clump, and is in the watershed of west settlement, a much broader and deeper valley of nearly a dozen farms, and to which my home valley is a tributary. the sugar bush lies near the groin of the old mountain, the "beech woods" over the eastern knee, and the rundle place, where now is woodchuck lodge, is on his skirts that look eastward. hence, most of the home farm stands apart in a valley by itself. as you approach on the train from the south you may see old clump rising up in the north eight or ten miles away, presenting the appearance of a well-defined cone, with the upper portion of the farm showing, and hiding behind it the mountain system of which it is the southern end. old clump figured a good deal in my boyhood life and scarcely less in my life since. the first deer's horn i ever saw we found there one sunday under a jutting rock as we were on our way to the summit. my excursions to salt and count the sheep often took me there, and my boyhood thirst for the wild and adventurous took me there still oftener. old clump used to lift me up into the air three thousand feet and introduce me to his great brotherhood of mountains far and near, and make me acquainted with the full-chested exhilaration that awaits one on mountain tops. graham, double top, slide mountain, peek o' moose, table mountain, wittenburg, cornell, and others are visible from the summit. there was as well something so gentle and sweet and primitive about its natural clearings and open glades, about the spring that bubbled up from under a tilted rock just below the summit, about the grassy terraces, its hidden ledges, its scattered, low-branching, moss-covered maples, the cloistered character of its clumps of small beeches, its domestic looking mountain ash, its orchard-like wild black cherries, its garden-like plots of huckleberries, raspberries, and strawberries, the patches of fragrant brakes like dense miniature forests through which one wades as through patches of green midsummer snow, its divine strains of the hermit thrush floating out of the wooded depths below you--all these things drew me as a boy and still draw me as an old man. from where the road crosses the eastern knee of old clump to where it crosses the western knee is over half a mile. well down in the valley between them the home buildings are situated, and below them the old and very productive meadows, only the upper borders of which have ever known the plough. the little brooklet that drains the valley used to abound in trout, but in sixty years it has dwindled to such an extent and has been so nearly obliterated by grazing cattle that there are no trout until you reach the hemlocks on the threshold of which my fishing excursions of boyhood used to end. the woods were too dark and mysterious for my inflamed imagination--inflamed, i suppose, by grandfather's spook stories. in this little stream in the pasture i used to build ponds, the ruins of one of which are still visible. in this pond i learned to swim, but none of my brothers would venture in with me. i was the only one in the family who ever mastered the art of swimming and i mastered it by persistent paddling in this pond on sundays and summer evenings and between my farm duties at other times. all my people were "landlubbers" of the most pronounced type and afraid to get above their knees in the water or to trust themselves to row-boats or other craft. here again i was an odd one. i used to make kites and crossbows and darts and puzzle people with the trick of the buncombe blocks. one summer i made a very large kite, larger than any i had ever seen, and attaching a string fully half a mile long sent it up with a meadow mouse tethered to the middle of the frame. i suppose i wanted to give this little creature of the dark and hidden ways of the meadow--so scared of its life from hawks, foxes, and cats, that it rarely shows itself out of its secret tunnels in the meadow bottoms or its retreats under the flat stones in the pastures--a taste of sky and sunshine and a glimpse of the big world in which it lived. he came down winking and blinking but he appeared none the worse for his trip skyward, and i let him go to relate his wonderful adventure to his fellows. once i made a miniature sawmill by the roadside on the overflow of water from the house spring that used to cause people passing by to stop and laugh. it had a dam, a flume, an overshot wheel ten inches in diameter, a carriage for the log (a green cucumber), a gate for the tin saw about six inches long, and a superstructure less than two feet high. the water reached the wheel through a piece of old pump log three or four feet long, capped with the body of an old tin dinner horn. set at quite an angle, the water issued from the half-inch opening in the end of the horn with force enough to make the little wheel hum and send the saw through the cucumber at a rapid rate--only i had to shove the carriage along by hand. brother hiram helped me with the installation of this plant. it was my plaything for only one season. i made a cross-gun that had a barrel (in the end of which you dropped the arrow) and a lock with a trigger, and that was really a spiteful, dangerous weapon. about my fifteenth year i had a real gun, a small, double-barrelled gun made by some ingenious blacksmith, i fancy. but it had fairly good shooting qualities--several times i brought down wild pigeons from the tree tops with it. rabbits, gray squirrels, partridges, also fell before it. i bought it of a pedlar for three dollars, paying on the instalment plan, with money made out of maple sugar. on the wooded west side of old clump we used to hunt rabbits--really the northern hare, brown in summer and white in winter. their runways made paths among the mountain-maple bushes just below the summit. on the eastern side was a more likely place for gray squirrels, coons, and partridges. foxes were at home on all sides and old clump was a favourite ground of the fox hunters. one day of early indian summer, as we were digging potatoes on the lower side hill, our attention was attracted by someone calling from the edge of the woods at the upper side of the sheep lot. my brothers rested on their hoe handles a moment and i brushed the soil from my hands and straightened up from my bent attitude of picking up the potatoes. we all listened and looked. presently we made out the figure of a man up by the edge of the woods and soon decided from his excited voice and gestures that he was calling for help. finally, we made out that someone was hurt and the oxen and sled were needed to bring him down. it turned out to be a neighbour, gould bouton, calling, and elihu meeker, his uncle, who was hurt. they were fox hunting and elihu had fired at the fox from the top of a high rock near the top of old clump and in his excitement had in some way slipped from the rock and fallen on the stones fifteen or twenty feet below and sustained serious injury to his side and back. with all possible speed the oxen and sled were got up there and after long waiting they returned to the house with elihu aboard, groaning and writhing on a heap of straw. the injury had caused him to bleed from his kidneys. in the meantime doctor newkirk had been sent for and i remember that i feared elihu would die before he got there. what a relief i felt when i saw the doctor coming on horseback, in the good old style, running his horse at the top of his speed! "now," i said, "elihu will be saved." he had already lost a good deal of blood, but the first thing the doctor did was to take more from him. this was in times when bleeding was about the first thing a doctor did on all occasions. the idea seemed to be that you could sap the strength of the disease by that means without sapping the strength of the man. well, the old hunter survived the double blood-letting; he was cured of his injury and cured of his fox-hunting fever also. he was a faithful, hard-working man, a carpenter by trade. he built our "new barn" in and put a new roof on the old barn. father got out the timber for the new barn in old jonas more's hemlocks and hauled it to the sawmill. lanson davids worked with him. they had their dinner in the winter woods. one day they had a pork stew and father said he had never eaten anything in his life that tasted so good. he and mother were then in the flower of their days and lanson davids said to him on this occasion: "chauncey, you are the biggest hog to eat i ever saw in my life." "i was hungry," said father. we had "raisings" in those days, when a new building was put up. the timbers were heavy, often hewn from trees in the woods, set up, pinned together in what were called "bents." in a farmer's barn there were usually four bents, tied together by the "plates" and cross beams. i remember well the early summer day when the new barn was raised. i can see elihu guiding the corner post of the first bent and when the men were ready calling out: "all together now," "set her up," "heave 'o heave, heave 'o heave," till the bent was in position. one june when he was shingling the old barn he engaged me to pick him some wild strawberries. when i came in the afternoon with my four-quart pail nearly full he came down off the roof and gave me a silver quarter, or two shillings, as then called, and i felt very rich. it is an open country, like an unrolled map, simple in all its lines, with little variety in its scenery, devoid of sharp contrasts and sudden changes and hence lacking in the element of the picturesque which comes from these things. it is a part of the earth's surface that has never been subject to convulsion and upheaval. the stratified rock lies horizontally just as it was laid down in the bottom of the devonian seas millions of years ago. the mountains and the valleys are the result of vast ages of gentle erosion, and gentleness and repose are stamped upon every feature of the landscape. the hand of time and the slow but enormous pressure of the great continental ice sheet have rubbed down and smoothed off all sharp angles, giving to the mountains their long sweeping lines, to the hills their broad round backs, and to the valleys their deep, smooth, trough-like contours. the level strata crop out here and there, giving to the hills the effect of heavy eyebrows. but occasionally it is more than that: in the mountains it is often like a cavernous mouth into which one can retreat several yards, where the imaginative farm boy loves to prowl and linger like the half savage that he is and dream of indians and the wild, adventurous life. there were a few such cavernous ledges in the woods on my father's farm where one could retreat from a sudden shower, but less than a mile away there were two lines of them, one on pine hill and one on chase's hill, where the foundations of the earth were laid open, presenting a broken and jagged rocky front from ten to thirty or forty feet high, gnawed full of little niches and pockets and cavernous recesses by the never-dulled tooth of geologic time and affording dens and retreats where indians and wild beasts often took refuge. as a boy how i used to haunt these places, especially on sunday when young winter-green and black birch gave us an excuse to go to the woods. what an eternity of time was written in the faces of those rocks! what world-old forces had left their marks there!--in the lines, in the colours, in the huge dislocations and look of impending downfall of many of them, yet with a look of calm and unconquerable age that can be felt only in the presence of such survivals of the primaeval. i want no better pastime now, far from my boyhood as i am, than to spend part of a summer or autumn day amid these rocks. one passes from the sunny fields, where the cattle are grazing or the plough is turning the red furrow, into these gray, time-sculptured, monumental ruins, where the foundations of the everlasting hills are crumbling, and yet where the silence and the repose are like that of sidereal space. how relative everything is! the hills and the mountains grow old and pass away in geologic time as invariably as the snow bank in spring, and yet in our little span of life they are the types of the permanent and unchanging. the phoebe bird loves to build its mossy nest in these shelving ledges, and once i found that one of our native mice, maybe the jumping mouse, had apparently taken a hint from her and built a nest of thistledown covered with moss on a little shelf three or four feet above the ground. coons and woodchucks often have their dens in these ledges, and before the country was settled no doubt bears did also. in one place, under a huge ledge that projects twelve or fifteen feet, there is a spring to which cattle come from the near fields to drink. the old earth builders used material of very unequal hardness and durability when they built these hills, their contracts were not well supervised, and the result has been that the more rapid decay of the softer material has undermined the harder layers and led to their downfall. every fifty or a hundred or two hundred feet in the catskill formation the old contractors slipped in a layer of soft, slatey, red sandstone which introduces an element of weakness and that we everywhere see the effects of. one effect of this weakness has an element of beauty. i refer to the beautiful waterfalls that are sparsely scattered over this region, made possible, as nearly everywhere else, by the harder strata holding out after the softer ones beneath have eroded away, thus keeping the face of the falls nearly vertical. the catskill region is abundantly supplied with springs that yield the best water in the world. my father's farm had a spring in nearly every field, each one with a character of its own. what associations linger about each one of them! how eagerly we found our way to them in the hot haying and harvesting days!--the small, cold, never-changing spring in the barn-hill meadow under the beech tree, upon whose now decayed bowl half-obliterated initials of farm boys and hired men of thirty, fifty, and nearly seventy years ago may still be seen; the spring in the old meadow near the barn where the cattle used to drink in winter and where, with the haymakers, i used to drink so eagerly in summer; the copious spring in the bank at the foot of the old orchard which, in the severe drouths of recent years, holds out when other springs fail; the tiny but perennial spring issuing from under the huge tilted rock in the sumac field where the young cattle and the sheep of the mountain pasture drink and where we have all refreshed ourselves so many times; the spring from under a rocky eyebrow on the big side hill which is now piped to the house and which in my boyhood was brought in pine or hemlock "pump logs," and to which i have been sent so many times to clean the leaves off the tin strainer--what associations have we all of us with that spring! for over eighty years it has supplied the family with water, and not till the severe drouths of later years did it fail. the old beech tree that stands above it is one of the landmarks of the farm. once when a boy i saw a flock of wild pigeons disappear in its leafy interior, and then saw abe meeker, who worked for father in , shoot into it from the stone wall, six or seven rods below, and bring down four birds which he could not see when he fired. three of them fell dead and one fell at his feet behind the stone wall. but i need not call the roll of all the fountains of my youth on the home farm--fountains of youth indeed! and fountain of grateful memories in my later years. i never pass any of them now but my footsteps linger by them and i clean them out if they are clogged and neglected and feel that here is a friend of other days whose face is as bright and youthful as ever. my father, by julian burroughs the earliest recollection that i have of father was of one spring day when he was chasing and stoning the cat, our pet cat, who had caught a bluebird. i remember the fierce look in the cat's eyes, and her nose flattened over the back of blue, her nervously twitching tail, and the speed and strength with which father pursued her, and the language he used, language that impressed me, at least, if not the cat, and which discredited the cat and her ancestry as well. as i remember it we rescued the bluebird, and there the picture fades. just how father himself looked then i do not know; doubtless, childlike, i accepted him as a matter of course, along with all the other interesting things in this world in which i was finding myself. again i remember riding on his shoulder in the downstairs hall, as he skipped about with me, and of being face to face, on equal terms, with the hall lamp, and of telling father that when i grew up i was going to be a king, and of father telling me at once that they hung kings on a sour-apple tree. it was always a sour-apple tree, never a sweet one, used for hangings. so i was glad to relinquish the idea of being a king and to become instead a "finder-out of things." how father did laugh at that! he had been telling me something of his readings in astronomy and the sciences, just at that time coming into their own, and i was so impressed and fired with emulation that i, too, declared for wanting to be "a finder-out of things," and father would repeat it and laugh heartily. it is a joy to think of him as he was then, virile in body, full fleshed, active, leading in walking and skating and swimming--what a flood of memories! what an interest he took in all the things i did, and how often a most active part. one day in may i had gone out with our one shot of shad net, and was to try an experiment. i had told father that i would row a ways up the river and throw out the net and then row on up to the mouth of black creek and fish for perch, and when the tide turned would row out and take up the net, which would catch the flood slack not far above. what he thought i do not know, for he went to dick martin, an experienced shad fisherman, and told him what i was going to do. dick hastened to tell him, in alarm, that what i intended was impossible, that there was a row of old stakes out from the black barn just below the mouth of black creek and that my net would get fast on these and i would lose it, and perhaps come to harm besides. so father walked the two miles, hurrying up along the steep and rocky shore, and found me just coming out from the creek. he told me what dick had said and got into the boat and we rowed out to the net, which was acting very queerly. "you're fast now, boy, it's just as dick said," he exclaimed as i rowed as hard as i could for the long line of buoys. never can i forget the hour of alarm and distress, for me, that followed. the tide turned and the loitering flood gave way to the sweeping ebb, the dark water from the creek came rushing down on us, the buoys swirled and twisted in the running water and began to disappear one by one. we quickly got hold of the end and i picked up as much as i could; then father got hold and tried to pull the net loose. he pulled and pulled until he literally pulled the stern of the skiff under water. "you'll have to cut the net, it is the only way," he said finally, red-faced and panting, so we did cut the net, leaving a middle section there on the old stake in the bottom of the river. there is no denying that it was thoughtful of him to come, and that he had my safety and welfare at heart. though i was always cautious and wise to the way of the river, something might have happened and my bones might be there beside the old stake--and what a lot i would have missed!--or as father once so aptly expressed it: "i'm not afraid to die, but i enjoy so much living!" he was always cautioning me, and worrying about me when i was out on the river, especially at night, and yet he took chances that i would not take. in the early days here at riverby there was no railroad on this side of the hudson, and to get a train one must cross the river. in summer one hung out a white flag from west park dock and bilyou would row over for you, but when there was ice in the river one must walk or stay home. in zero weather it was only a matter of a long walk over the ice, often facing a blast of below-zero wind, but when the march thaws had begun one took one's life very lightly to venture on the ice. the thawing water cut away the ice from underneath, leaving no mark on the surface, weakening it in spots, and if one went through, the tide swept him under the ice, where the water was at least cold enough to chill one and make death easy. on such a day father crossed the river on a crack, for, strange to say, one of the big cracks that always come in the ice had pushed or folded down, and not up, and the water had frozen over, making a streak of triple-thick ice, and on this streak he crossed the hudson, the ice so far gone from the sun, so honeycombed and rotten, that he could stick his cane through on either side of his crack! another time he was crossing in early april with his dog, and when in the middle of the river, which is a full half mile wide at riverby, busy with his thoughts, he suddenly saw his dog running for the shore, which apparently was moving away rapidly toward new york! but the shores were standing eternally still; the ice it was that moved, and was moving up with the flood tide, moving just the width of a big canal that the ice harvesters had cut above. when the tide turned, about an hour later, all the ice went out of the river. when first father saw some smokeless powder he was surprised at its appearance, and would not believe it was powder, until he threw some on the hot stove. i used it in our old shotgun and he was much alarmed, yet he told me that in his hunt for thomas's lake, of which he speaks in "wake robin," he loaded his little muzzle-loading gun with an entire handful of powder and then, for he felt it would burst, he held it at arm's length over his head to fire. this he did time after time, in his attempt to signal to his companions. the little gun survived the ordeal and hangs now in the gun room. with it is the little cane gun, a small shotgun that looked exactly like a cane, but which was quite effective for small birds, and which he used when making collections of birds about washington. strangely enough for those days, it was against the law to shoot birds, and mounted guards enforced this law. father would tell with glee how he would shoot a bird he wanted for his collection, and in a moment the guard would come rushing up, asking who fired the shot, and father would tell him it was just over the rise of ground, or behind those trees, or something, and off would hurry the guard while father picked up his bird and reloaded his cane. it seems queer to us now--to think of john burroughs as shooting and mounting song birds, making collections to be set up on a tree behind glass, but he did, for in those days they were quite the proper thing, cases of them, fitting enough for museums, often being seen in private homes. i can remember taking lessons in taxidermy from father, and of skinning and mounting wildfowl, and today there are a loon and a prairie chicken here in the house at riverby that he mounted in those early years. the collections of birds he made are scattered far and wide or were destroyed long ago. all of them were shot with the little muzzle-loading cane gun or with a little muzzle-loading fowling piece: those were the days of the ramrod and wasps' or hornets' nests gathered and used for wadding, and the superstition, which father often expressed, that if you spilled or dropped a shot in loading, it was your game shot, the one that would have killed and without which the shot would miss. i can see the fascinating-looking black powder now, scintillating as father poured it from the palm of his short brown hand into the muzzle of the gun. there was one quality which father possessed to a marked degree and which i always envied him, a thing small in itself, yet which enabled him to accomplish what he did in literature, and that was the ability to lay aside the business or cares of life, as one would hang up one's hat, absolutely and completely, and turn to his writing. the world will think of him as a poet naturalist, as a gentle sage and philosopher, when he was in truth a literary craftsman, and one who could never give but a portion of his time and effort to his life's work until he was sixty years of age. i first remember him as a bank examiner. i remember his going away for trips to examine banks, of his packing his valise and putting on a white or "boiled" shirt, the gold cuff buttons, his combing his beard, the wonder and mystery of it all. then he became a "mugwump" and the new party gave his bank-examining to someone else; and, as he expressed it, "i had to stir my stumps," and he took up the raising of fine grapes. just as his boyhood had the cow for its centre of interest, mine had the delaware grape. and father made a success of his vineyards. i can see him now summer pruning, he on one side of the row, i on the other, "pulling down" as we called the summer pruning, or he was stamping lids or tying up bundles of baskets. many of the lids had sawdust on them which had to be blown or brushed off before they could be stamped. father acquired the habit of blowing, and he got so used to it that he would blow anyway, whether or not the lid needed it; if it did not he would blow straight ahead and i would laugh at him for it, and he would raise his eyebrows and half smile, meaning, that it was something he could indulge himself in. he once wrote of his grandson: "i had the rare good fortune to be born in the country upon a farm and to share in the duties and responsibilities of farm life. my poor grandson john is not so lucky in this respect and he has not had to pick up potatoes and stone and gather apples and husk corn and hoe corn and spread and rake hay and drive the cows and hunt up the sheep in the mountain and spread manure and weed the garden and clean the cow stables, and so on, and go two miles through snow-choked fields and woods to school in winter and have few books to read and see no illustrated papers or magazines. john has the movies by night and his bicycle by day and a graded school to attend and a hundred aids and spurs where i had none. my fate was better than john's and i can but hope he has advantages that i did not have that may offset the advantages i had." in this case i know that time and distance lend enchantment, for of the hard work in the vineyards father did very little--the cultivating with a horse on days so hot that the horse was covered with lather and the dust rose in a cloud over one's perspiration-soaked clothes, the days following the spray cart with the lime and blue vitriol flying in one's face and running down one's legs, the tying in march and early april until one's fingers were raw and one's neck ached from reaching up--of all these and other tasks he knew nothing. often he said of himself that he was lazy; and, though what he accomplished in his life stands like a monument in one sense of the word, he was lazy. routine work, a daily grind at tasks for which he had no liking, would have shortened his days and perhaps even embittered him. yet with what eagerness he went at his writing! for sixty years and over he found his greatest joy in his craft--as he once wrote me, "there is no joy like it, when sap runs there is no fun like writing." as he said of his books in a preface to a new edition, "very little real 'work' has gone into them." one day out at la jolla, california, up on the hillside overlooking the blue pacific there was a gathering in one of the biological laboratories and the school children came trooping in. father was asked to talk to them and among other things he asked them if a bee got honey from the flowers. "no," he said, "the bee gets nectar from the flower, a thin sweetish liquid which the bee, by processes in its own body, turns into honey." i have always suspected that father liked to think of himself as a bee, out in the sunshine and warmth, in the fields and woods, among the flowers, gathering delightful impressions of it all which with his handicraft he could preserve in an imperishable form that others might also enjoy. and does a bee really work? is it not doing exactly what it enjoys or wants to do? does it have to make any conscious effort to fare forth among the flowers? does it have to keep on doing what it dislikes to do long after it is tired out? so whether the life of john burroughs was one long life of happiness and lazy play, or whether it was one of hard work, depends, like so many other things, on the point of view. i like to think of his long and happy life as one in which he turned all work to play, and in so doing he accomplished mightily. often father tried to account for himself, how he happened to break away from the life of his family and early environment so absolutely and completely and become, not a weak, easy-going, though picturesque farmer in the farther catskills, but a man of letters, a unique and picturesque literary craftsman. "i had it in my blood, i guess," he once said. with it he had what most of us have, the love of the woods and fields and the hunting and fishing. trout fishing, the most delightful of all, had for him a perennial charm, and bee-hunting, too, and camping out, exploring new streams and woods. all this was fostered and developed by his farm life and early associations, and then when he became vault keeper in the treasury department in washington he was shut up away from it all with nothing to do but look at the steel doors. almost without being able to do otherwise he began to live over again the delightful days he had spent afield by writing of them. he was like an exile dreaming of his native land. nature has a trick of casting a spell over those who spend their days with her so that when the day is gone only the memories of the delights of it remain and these become ever more beautiful and highly coloured with time. to the homesick young man, shut up in the vault in washington, the scenes of his native hills took on a beauty and charm they never could have done had he remained there among those very hills where his eyes and senses could drink their fill every hour. it seems to me like a lucky chance that his ambition to write, already manifest and firmly fixed, took the course it did, writing about nature. "i must have been a sport," he says of himself--a born word worshipper, a man fired with unquenchable literary ambition, a lover of the best of the world's books, born of parents who knew not the meaning even of the words. i doubt very much that any of his immediate family, that is of his own generation, read a line in any of his books. his sister told him not to write, that "it was bad for the head"--how different he was from them all is shown in an incident mother once related, and which can be told only with a word of explanation. during the war he and mother had gone "out home," as he always spoke of visiting the parents on the homestead, and during dinner grandfather exclaimed: "i'd like to see abe lincoln hung higher than haman and i'd like to have hold of the rope!" father sat speechless with pain and amazement, then silently pushing back his plate he rose and silently walked from the room. then grandmother "went for" grandfather. but grandfather did not realize what he was saying, and he would have been one of the very last to have harmed lincoln, or any one else for that matter. the incident shows how different those passionate, intense, and bitter-feeling times were from ours, and how the spread of the magazines and the illustrated papers has broadened and mellowed the feelings of the people. father often spoke of his joy when the _atlantic_ accepted his first article, the one on "expression" which was attributed to emerson--he felt a new world had opened up for him, new worlds to explore and conquer with unlimited possibilities. his ambition to write got a tremendous incentive. at that time he was teaching school at a small town near newburgh and when saturday came he wanted to go into the parlour for his day's work. that was the time of the supremacy of the parlour, the darkened room held sacred for special occasions, funerals, and sunday company and such, and mother had no notion of its order being disturbed and its sanctity profaned by such a frivolous thing as writing--she locked the door. i think father took it as an insult, not to himself, but to his calling, a deadly insult to his god of literature, and in what to me was a fine and noble and justifiable frenzy he smashed and kicked the door into "smithereens." i applaud; i'm glad he did it; he proved himself worthy of his chosen god. mother no doubt cried. poor demolished door--a small and material sacrifice indeed for the great god of letters! those years were hard ones in many ways for father, the years in the late ' 's when he was teaching school and trying many things, trying to find himself and make a living and appease the material ambitions of mother. one summer he spent on the old homestead and grew onions; the seed he used was poor, few came up, and a summer of hard work, for both him and mother, came to nothing. for a time he studied medicine in the office of doctor hull near ashokan, and there, sitting in the little office at a spot now just on the edge of the water of what is now the great ashokan reservoir, he wrote his poem, "waiting." one cannot but marvel at the prophecy of it, the vision of the discouraged boy of twenty-five every line of which has had such a fulfilment. he tried several ventures, blindly groping, hoping for success which never came to any of them. one of his ventures was a share in a patent buckle from which he was to get rich, but from which he got losses and discouragement--in fact, he had borrowed money to go into it and on his non-payment he was arrested and brought up the river on a night boat. waking when the boat stopped at newburgh and finding his guard was asleep, he got up and dressed and went ashore. his arrest was not legal anyway, and soon the matter was settled. he continued to teach, and finally, in the early years of the war, drifted to washington. a friend of his wanted him to come, saying there were many opportunities and also holding out the inducement that he could meet walt whitman. finally he got a position in the treasury department and from hugh mcculloch, secretary of the treasury, in his "men and measures of half a century," we get a picture of the young john burroughs seeking a job, a picture that father said was not accurate, but which at least shows how he impressed a man used to seeing many job-seekers: one day a young man called at my office and said to me that he understood that the force of the bureau was to be increased, and that he should be glad to be employed. i asked him if he had any recommendations. "i have not," he replied; "i must be my own." i looked at his sturdy form and intelligent face, which impressed me so favourably that i sent his name to the secretary, and the next day he was at work as a twelve-hundred-dollar clerk. i was not mistaken. he was an excellent clerk, competent, faithful, willing. and father has said that of the hundred dollars a month he received, he and mother saved just half. and the real cost of living then was as high as it is now; the actual cost of food and clothing and the manner of living have changed. father's first book: "notes on walt whitman, poet and person," published in , now long out of print, a small brown volume with gilt lettering, was brought out in those washington days. the book was not a success and though father took a loss on its publication, he did not have to deduct it from his income tax. of all that life there in washington he has spoken so much in his books, "winter sunshine," "indoor studies," "whitman, a study," and so on that i will leave it and return to the vineyard here on the banks of the hudson. it was in that father and mother came here and bought about a nine-acre place, sloping from the road down to the water, living for a time, nearly a year, in a small house up by the road, during which time they were building the stone house, the building of which father has described in "roof-tree." he had wanted a stone house, and here was plenty of stone, "wild stone" as a native called them, to be picked up, weathered and soft in colouring, only a short haul and a few touches with the hammer or peen needed to make them into building stone. he has often spoken of mother's first visit to her new home, just as the foundation was nicely started, and of her grief and disappointment when she saw the size of the building. the foundation of a house, open to the sky, gives no idea of the size of the finished building, and it was in vain that father tried to explain this. "i showed her the plans," he often said, "so many feet this way and so many that, such a size to this room and such a size to that, but it was no use, she cried and took on at a great rate." father was bank receiver then, getting three thousand a year, and on that he was building this big, three-story stone house. he took great pleasure in it--he loved to tell of the irish mason who went off on a drunk just when he was working on the stone chimney. disgusted at the delay father went up, and with hammer and trowel went at the chimney himself, and the sobering mason could see him from hyde park, across the river. when he was sober enough to come back and go on with his work he carefully inspected what father had done and exclaimed, "and you are a hondy mon, ye are." the southwest bedroom on the third floor father was to have for his room, his study, where he could write. this room he panelled to the ceiling with native woods: maple, oak, beech, birch, tulip, and others, and i like to think of his happy anticipation, his dreams of the happy hours he would spend in this room, and of the writing he would do. but he did no writing here, for a few years later he built the bark-covered study down on the edge of the bank, then a few years later yet he built slabsides, two miles over the low mountain. it was there, especially in the study, that he did the bulk of all his literary work. mother was a materialist; she never rated literary efforts very high; she often seemed to think that father should do the work of the hired man and then do his writing nights and holidays. she could see no sense in taking the best hours of the day for "scribbling," and it was only in the later years when father had a steady income from his writings that her point of view softened. she was what they called in those days a "good housekeeper" and she kept it so well that father had to move out for his working hours, first to the study, then two miles away. when it came to housework, mother possessed the quality called inevitableness to an extraordinary degree. she had a way of fastening a cloth about her head, a sort of forerunner of the boudoir cap of to-day, a means of protecting her hair from any imaginary dust, and this became a symbol, a battle flag of the goddess of housecleaning. father was ordered out of the library, where he did his writing, and his thread was rudely broken; it was a day when sap did not run. for a high-strung, temperamental being, hasty and quick tempered, i think he showed wonderful patience, a patience that does him great credit. and yet in many ways mother was an invaluable helpmate, she was a balance wheel that kept their world moving steadily, and i am sure saved father from many mistakes and extravagances. it was only years afterward, when he began to ship grapes, that father named his place "riverby." he had been reading a book of adventure to me, stevenson's "black arrow," and in it there was a place named "shoreby," or "by-the-shore." this suggested the name of "riverby," or "by-the-river," to father for his place. so it was adopted and became the trademark, "riverby vineyards," an oval stamp with a bunch of grapes in the middle and the address below. it became the name of the place, the name of one of father's books, and was stamped on the lid of every crate or basket of grapes. father was an absolutely honest man, honest not only in packing a crate of grapes, but honest as to his own weaknesses and shortcomings. i can never forget how he admired an exclamation attributed to general lee at gettysburg. pickett had made his famous charge and his veterans had come back, a few of them, defeated, and lee said to them, "it's all my fault, boys!" "that is the true spirit of greatness," father said, thoughtfully. and when the _titanic_ went down in mid-ocean with such a loss of life, and the order was for the women and children first to the lifeboats, men to keep back, father said: "that took real grit. i hope i'll never have to face such a crisis." at another time the boys were stealing his grapes, the first delawares, not yet ripe enough, and then scattering the bunches they could not eat along the road. father wrapped himself in a waterproof and at dark sat down under one of the vines to wait. strange to say, he went to sleep, and stranger still one of the boys did come, and came to the very vine under which father was sleeping. he was instantly awake and, watching his chance, jumped up and grabbed the boy. there was a swift scrimmage, the boy breaking away and fleeing. as he went over the stone wall father clinched him and they went over together, taking the top of the wall over on them. father being hampered by his coat, the boy was able to break away and fled up the hill toward the road where he had left his bicycle. he was unable to get away on it, however, and ran away into the night, leaving his bicycle as hostage. in the morning when i came down i found father like a boy with a new toy. "come out in the wash-house and see my prisoner," he laughed, and could hardly contain himself for the fun of it all. i came, and there stood the bicycle, and father danced a war dance about it. later the boy came and owned up and insisted on paying something, but in all kindliness father would not of course take any of the boy's hard-earned money. he simply explained the situation to him and i am sure the boy never came back, as he might have done if he had not been treated generously. at another time some boys from across the river were caught red-handed stealing grapes. after scaring them for a time, father gave them some grapes and sent them home. he was always cautioning us about cutting grapes, to cut only such as we would be willing to eat ourselves not to mislead or cheat the purchaser. one of his first letters, written thirty years ago, is mainly about the vineyards--it is written on paper made to imitate birch bark, and written in a swift, up and down hand that is almost as easily read as the best printing: onteora club, july , . dear julian, i want you to write me when you receive this if the dog has turned up yet. if he has not you better drive down to bundy's again and see if he has been there. also tell me if the hawk flies, etc. has there been a heavy rain, and has it done any damage to the vineyard? it rained very hard here the night i arrived. if it has damaged the vineyard i will come back. look about and see if there is any grape rot yet. i want zeke to send me a crate of those pears there in the currants.... it is very pleasant up here, but i fear i will be dined and tead and drove and walked until i am sick. i have had no good sleep yet. mr. johnson of the _century_ is here. we sleep in a large fine tent. it is in the woods and is just like camping out, except that we do not have a bed of boughs. it is warm and rainy here this morning. tell me if you and your mother are going out to roxbury, or anywhere else. tell northrop to send on my letters if there are any. i have not received any yet. tell me what dude and zeke have been doing. your affectionate father, john burroughs. the dog spoken of was dan, or dan bundy-ah, a pretty medium-sized dog that won father's heart and was bought for two dollars, which seemed a big price for a dog then, of a workman who helped us in the vineyards. he was always running off home. "it breaks a dog all up to change his home, or rather household; it makes of him a citizen of the world," said father. how he did love a nice dog! even in his last illness he often spoke of the one we owned; he had a true feeling of comradeship for a dog. the hawk referred to is the young marsh hawk we got from the nest and raised ourselves. i know it fell to me to supply this hawk with food: english sparrows, red squirrels, and small game, a ceaseless undertaking and one which took most of my time, so much so that mother took me to task for it time and again. when later father "wrote up" the hawk and got something for the article i felt that i should be paid for what i had been compelled to endure in the cause! "fifty cents for every scolding i got," was what i demanded. "you are getting your pay now," father replied as he watched me eat. did the rain do any damage to the vineyard?--yes, that was a fear that was always present. the steep side hills would often wash very badly, the soil being carried down the hill, costing us much labour in bringing it back. when there was a slack time there was always dirt to drag up the steep slopes. i know one time some of it was carried up the hill by hand. we nailed two sticks for handles on a box and charley and i spent days carrying this box full of dirt up a very steep spot--"just like two jackasses," father exclaimed in fun. though he could say in his poem-- "i rave no more 'gainst time or fate" he did often rave against the weather, especially the "mad, intemperate," as he called them, summer showers. once there was a hailstorm. we were "out home," and after supper mother brought forth a telegram, saying, "i did not give you this until after you had eaten." even i was conscious of the tactless way she did it, the household looking on. with drawn face father slowly opened and read: "hailstorm, grapes all destroyed." how limp father felt! he said: "i had complimented myself when i looked at those grapes. i had seen several statements that grapes would bring a good price this fall." well, we found that half of them could be saved and that the terrific hailstorm had extended over only two vineyards--the path of the storm not half a mile across in either direction, a curious freak, but one that in ten minutes took away all profits for the year. if i can invent a phrase i will say that father had the pride of humility; that is, he had the true spirit of the craftsman--pride in and for his work, and not pride of self. nothing was too good for his art, nothing too poor for himself. the following letter, written twenty-eight years ago, gives us a glimpse of himself as he was then, alone and introspective. there evidently had been a family jar, something that came far too frequently, and father was alone here at riverby. west park, july , { }. my dear julian, your letter is rec'd. glad you are going to try the hay field. don't try to mow away. but in the open air i think you can stand it. it is getting very dry here. i think you had a fine shower saturday night about eight o'clock. i stood on the top of slide mountain at that hour all alone and i could look straight into the heart of the storm and when it lightened i could see the rain sweeping down over the roxbury hills. the rain was not heavy on slide and i was safely stowed away under a rock. i left here friday afternoon, went up to big indian where i stayed all night. i found mr. sickley and his family boarding there at dutchers. saturday i tried to persuade mr. s. to go with me to slide, but he had promised his party to go another way. so i pushed on alone with my roll of blankets on my back. i was very hot and i drank every spring dry along the route. i reached the top of slide about two o'clock and was glad after all to have the mountain all to myself. it is very grand. i made myself a snug camp under a shelving rock. every porcupine on the mountain called on me during the night, but i slept fairly well. i stayed till noon on sunday, when i went down to dutchers. i made the trip easily and without fatigue, tramping miles that hot saturday with my traps. big indian valley is very beautiful. monday morning mr. sickley walked down to the station with me and i got home on the little boat, well paid for my trip. i doubt if i come up to roxbary now, i fear the air will not agree with me. do not follow your mother's example in one respect, that is, do not think very highly of yourself and very meanly of other people; but rather reverse it--think meanly of yourself and well of other people--think anything is good enough for yourself and nothing too good for others. the berries are about done--too dry for them. i may go to johnsons and gilders, am not in the mood yet. write me when you get this. love to all. your affectionate father, john burroughs. in these early letters to me he always signed his name in full, something he never did later. the blankets were two army blankets, of a blue-gray with two blackish stripes at each end: they were smoke-scented from a hundred camp fires and there were holes burned in them from sparks. they had been in many woods and forests. the berries so lightly spoken of were those of a large patch below the study, a venture which father made in small fruit and which he was glad enough not to repeat. the berries were too insistent in their demands; they just had to be picked over every day or they wept little reddish tears and became too soft to be shipped. when father bought the place it was nearly all out in red berries--the old marlboroughs and antwerps and cuthberts, and father continued them until they tried his patience beyond endurance. in winter there were no grapes or berries and for a time father went on some lecture trips, but only for a time, for he was too nervous, too easily embarrassed, too excitable for lecturing. it took too much out of him. somewhere, something unpleasant happened, and for a long time afterward he did not give a formal lecture, if he ever did make a formal address. he told one of his audiences that emerson said we gain strength by doing what we do not like to do, and everyone laughed, for it was exactly the way father felt about his lecturing. nevertheless, he seemed to have a pretty good time while on a lecture trip, as the following letter, written when away lecturing, will show: cambridge, mass., feb. , ' . my dear julian, things have gone very well with me so far. i reached boston sunday night at : . i went to the adams house that night. monday at p. m. i went out to lowell and spoke before the women--a fine lot of them. i got along very well. one of them took me home to dinner. i came back to the adams house at o'clock. tuesday night i went home with kennedy and stayed all night. wednesday i came out to cambridge to the house of mrs. ole bull, who had sent me an invitation. i am with her now: it is raining furiously all day. to-night i am to speak before the procopeia club, and to-morrow night before the metaphysical society. i met clifton johnson in boston and i am going to his place on saturday and may stay over sunday or i may come home on the : train sunday.... i saw some harvard professors last night. i hope you and your mother keep well and live in peace and quiet. love to you both. your affectionate father, john burroughs. one of the enemies we had to fight in the vineyard was the rot, the black rot, an imported disease of the grape that for a few years swept everything. then spraying with the bordeaux mixture of lime and copper sulphate checked and finally stopped it altogether--but it was the early sprayings that counted. one year i remember father neglected this, in his easy, optimistic way, and later, when the rot began, spraying was in vain, and i know that i took him to task for it, to my regret now. the following letter speaks of this and of my going to college, something we did not consider until the last moment. father, not being a college man, had not thought of it: lee, mass., july { }. dear julian, i rec'd your letter this morning. i am having a nice time here, but think i shall go back home this week, as the rot seems to be working in the niagaras quite badly, and the rain and heat continue. mr. taylor is dead and buried. he died the day i left (friday). rodman likes harvard very much and says he will do anything he can for you he says if you want to mess in memorial hall you ought to put your name down at once. there is a special harvard student here, a mr. hickman, who is tutoring mr. gilder's children. i like him very much. he is in the lawrence scientific school--about your age and a fine fellow--from nova scotia. i have been to the johnsons at stockbridge. owen is in love with yale and wants you to come there. owen will be a writer, he has already got on the yale "lit." he is vastly improved and i like him much. we had a five mile walk together yesterday. rodman i think will be a journalist. he is already one of the editors of a harvard paper--"the crimson" i think. the country here is much like the delaware below hobart. i shall stop at salisbury to visit miss warner and then home friday or saturday. i will write to my publishers to send you hill's rhetoric. i think you better come home early next week and stop with me at ss. love to all. your loving father, john burroughs. if the grapes fail we will try to raise the money for your harvard expenses. at the end of , i expect to get much more money from my books--at least $ , a year. this last was in pencil, a postscript. evidently father had the grape rot in mind, but at this date, july st, the die was cast; there was nothing one could do then. if they had been properly sprayed in may and june one could laugh at the black rot, but very likely father had not attended to it; that is, he had made the hired man spray. he had other fish to fry, as he often said. to me the marvel of it all is that he had so many irons in the fire and was always able to write. the different properties that father accumulated in his lifetime were alone enough to take all his time were it not for his happy nature and wonderful faculty of being able to put them aside when the muse nudged his elbow. first he had the place here, riverby, to which he added another nine acres later, clearing and ditching it all and getting it all out in the best grapes, the ones that made the most work and trouble: delawares, niagaras, wordens, and moore's early. there were other kinds tried, the once famous gaertner, moore's diamond, the green mountain or winchell, and so on. and currants, too, acres of them set under and between the rows of grapes, and bartlett pears, and peaches. as i write, a picture comes to mind of father up in a peach tree, on a high step-ladder, picking peaches, and of some girls with cameras taking his picture and all laughing and the girls exclaiming; "at the mercy of the kodakers"--and father enjoying the joke and picking out soft peaches for them. he liked to pick peaches. the big handsome fruit in its setting of glistening green leaves appealed to him, and as he said, "when i come to one too soft to ship i can eat it." i so vividly remember our carrying the filled baskets to the dock where they were shipped to town and father being ahead with a basket on his shoulder and of his stumbling and going headlong, his head hanging over the steep ledge of rocks, the basket bursting in its fall and the peaches going far and wide over the rocks below. we gathered up the peaches, and father was not hurt, though he fell so close to the top of the steep ledge that his head and shoulder hung over and his face got red in his struggle to hold himself back. then in the early nineties he bought the land and built slabsides, clearing up the three acres of celery swamp; and for a while he spent much time there. "wild life about my cabin" was one of the nature essays written of slabsides. the cabin was covered with slabs, and father wanted to give it a name that would stick, he said, one that would be easily associated with the place, and he certainly succeeded, for everyone knows of slabsides. uncle hiram, father's oldest brother, spent much time with him there, the two brothers, worlds apart in their mental make-up and their outlook, spending many lonely evenings together, father reading the best philosophy or essays, uncle hiram drumming and humming under his breath, dreaming his dreams, too, but never looking at a book or even a magazine. soon he would be asleep in his chair, and before the low-burning open fire father would be dreaming his dreams, so many of which he made come true, listening to the few night sounds of the woods. father tried hard to make uncle hiram's dreams come true. he gave him a home for many years and helped him with his bee-keeping and sympathized with him fully and understood his hope that "next year" the bees would pay and return all. someone caught a big copperhead, one of the meanest of all poisonous snakes, and one which is quite rare here, fortunately, and for a time father kept it in a barrel near slabsides. later he grew tired of it, but he had not the heart to kill it, his prisoner. "after keeping a thing shut up and watching it every day i can't go out and kill it in cold blood," he said in half apology for his act. he told the man who worked on the swamp to carry the snake, barrel and all, up among the rocks and let him go. the man, when out of sight, promptly killed the snake. it seems to me that they were both right and the snake, though innocent himself, had to suffer. it was about two miles to slabsides, a good part of it through the woods, and some of it up a very steep hill. i can see father starting off with his market basket on his arm, the basket as full of provisions and reading matter as his step was full of vigour. i'll admit he did often raid mother's pantry, and he was not averse to taking pie and cake. in fact, he was brought up on cake largely, and always ate of it freely until these last years. "his folks," as mother would say, always had at least three kinds of cake three times a day, and then more cake the last thing before going to bed. at slabsides most of the cooking was done over the open fire--potatoes and onions baked in the ashes, lamb chops broiled over the coals, peas fresh from the garden--how father did enjoy it all--the sweetness of things! he would hum: "he lived all alone, close to the bone where the meat is sweetest, he constantly eatest," and he liked to think of this old rhyme as applying to himself. the interior of slabsides was finished in birch and beech poles, with the bark on them, and much of the furniture he made of natural crooks and crotches. he always had his "eye peeled," as he said, for some natural piece of wood that he could use. the bittersweet has a way of winding itself about some sapling, and as the two grow it puts a mark about the tree that makes it look as though it were twisted. one such piece, a small hemlock, is over the fireplace, and father would tell how he told the girls who visited slabsides that he and the hired man twisted this stick by hand. "we told them we took it when it was green," he would laugh, as he told the story, "and twisted it as you see it, then fastened it and it dried or seasoned that way--and they believed it!" and he would chuckle over it mightily. in , father was able, with the help of a friend, to buy the old homestead at roxbury, and then he developed one of the farmhouses there, one built long ago by his brother curtis, and thus made the third landmark in his life, any one of which was enough to occupy the time and care of one man. he called it woodchuck lodge, and the last years of his life were spent largely there, going out in june and returning in october. at the time the following letter was written, father spent much of his time at slabsides and his interest in both the celery and lettuce grown there, as well as the grapes at riverby, was most keen. the black duck referred to was one i had winged and brought home; it was excessively wild until we put it with the tame ducks, whereupon, as father expressed it, "he took his cue from them and became tamer than the tame ones." slabsides, july , ' . my dear julian, i enclose a circular from amherst college that came to you yesterday. you would doubtless do as well or better at one of the small colleges as you would at harvard. the instruction is quite as good. it is not the college that makes the man, but the reverse. or you might go to columbia this fall. you would be nearer home and have just as able instructors as at harvard. harvard has no first class men now. but if you have set your heart on harvard, you would of course do just as well as a special student as if admitted to college. you would miss only non-essentials. their sheep skin you do not want; all you want is what they can teach you. it has rained here most of the time since you left. the grapes are beginning to rot and if this rain and heat continues we may lose all of them. if the grapes go i shall not have money for you to go away this year. another duck was killed saturday night, one of the last brood. it looked like the work of a coon and i and hiram watched all sunday night with the gun, but nothing came and nothing came last night as we know of. let me know what you hear from your chum. i shall look for a letter from you to-night. it is still raining and at four o'clock the sky looks as thick and nasty as ever. it threatens to be like eight years ago when you and i were in the old house. tell me what mr. tooker says, etc. i may go to gilders the last of the week. your affectionate father, john burroughs. your black duck is getting tame and does not hide at all. it is hard for the present generation to realize what a shadow, or rather influence, the civil war cast over the days of father's generation. war veterans, parades, pensions, stories of the war--it coloured much of the life, civil, social, political, and even the literature of the day. some have spoken of it, in architecture, as the general grant period. the "panoramas"--what has become of them? i remember visiting one with father--you went into a building and up a flight of stairs and came out on a balcony, a round balcony in the centre, and all around was a picture of one of the battlefields of the war, bursting shells, men charging, falling, and all, always the two flags, smoke enshrouded. it made a great impression on my boyish mind. father knew many war veterans and together we read the impressions of his friend, charles benton, "as seen from the ranks," and he kept up the friendships he had made those years he lived in washington. washington, d. c., mch. nd. { .} dear julian, i came on from n. y. last night, left n. y. at : and was here at : , round trip $ , ticket good till next monday. i had a nice time in n. y. and improved all the time, though i was much broken of my sleep. i stayed with hamlin garland at the hotel new amsterdam, i like him much, he is coming on here. i was out to dinner and to lunch every day. the _century_ paid me $ for another short article on bird songs. i wrote it the week before my sickness. it is lovely here this morning, warm and soft like april, the roads dusty. baker's people are all well and very kind to me. they have a large house on meridian hill where it was all wild land when i lived here. i shall stay here until next monday. write me when you get this how matters go and how your mother is. tell hiram you have heard from me. your loving father, john burroughs. when i went away to college in the fall of i was able to see our home life there at riverby from a new angle, as one must often do, get a short distance away to get a clear perspective of a place. and it being my first time away from home father wrote more frequently, and he dropped the formality of his earlier letters. west park, n. y., oct. . { .} my dear julian, your letter was here monday morning. i am sorry you did not send some message to your mother in it. you know how quick she is to take offence. why not hereafter address your letters to us both--thus "dear father and mother." but write to her alone next time. how about that course in geology given by shaler? i thought you were going to take that? i had rather you take that than any course in english composition. read ruskin's "modern painters" when you get a chance. read emerson's "english traits" and his "representative men." send me some of the pictures you took at slabsides of the suter girls and any others that would interest me. i go to-day to the harrimans at arden for two or three days. on saturday last i had vassar girls at ss and expect more this saturday. lown said black creek was full of ducks on sunday--i see but few on the river. give my love to the suter girls.... much fog here lately. your affectionate father, j. b. ducks in black creek--it was tantalizing to read that! it brought back the memories of the days father and i hunted them there--i shall never forget how impressed he was by one duck, so impressed that he spoke of it at length in an article he wrote--"the wit of a duck." he was paddling me up the sun-lit reaches of the shataca on black creek when suddenly two dusky mallards or black ducks tore out of the willow herb and dodder and came like the wind over our heads. i was using a high-powered duck gun, and brought down both ducks, one, however, with a broken wing. the duck came tumbling down and with a fine splash struck the water, where for a moment it shone and glistened in the sun. and that was all, the duck was gone instantly, we never saw it again. what happened of course was that the duck dived, using its other wing and feet, and came up in the brush, where it hid, no doubt with only half an inch of its bill out of water. its presence of mind, working instantly and without hesitation, caused father to exclaim in wonder. father was never a sportsman in the strict sense--he never had a shotgun that was really good for anything, or any hunting dogs or hunting clothes--a pair of rubber boots used for trout fishing was as far as he got in that direction--unless the soft felt hat, gray, torn, with some flies or hooks stuck in the band, could be counted. he was an expert trout fisherman, but was not averse to using grasshoppers, worms, live bait, or caddis fly larvae. i know we stood one day in the shataca and father shot and shot at the black ducks that flew overhead, and he bemoaned his lack of skill in not being able to bring them down. "dick martin would bring those fellows down every time," he would say. as i look back on it with the light of later experience i am sure the ducks were out of range, and the borrowed gun was a weak poor thing, not a duck gun. we built ourselves a bough house out on a little island in the swamp and got in it, crouched down, and soon some ducks came down, down, lowering their feet to drop in the water. "don't shoot, poppie, don't shoot!" i exclaimed, and he did not shoot, and to this day he never knew why i gave such bad advice--i was afraid of the noise of the gun! father thought i wanted him to wait until they were nearer. but the chance never came again and we went home duckless. in one of his essays father spoke of a large family as being like a big tree with many branches which, though it was exposed to the perils of the storms and all enemies of trees, had as compensation more of the sun, more places for birds and their nests, more beauty, and so on. i told him that balzac expressed the same idea in fewer words, and for a moment he looked worried. balzac said, "our children are our hostages to fate." and each way of expressing the similar idea is characteristic of the man. in many ways father was like a wide-spreading tree--his intense nature was one that caught all the sun and beauty of life, enough and more to compensate for the sorrow and pain he knew. to adventures out-of-doors, the rise of a big trout to his fly, the sudden appearance of some large wild animal, how his whole nature would react! he was well aware of this trait and often spoke of it--in fact, he had no desire to be cold and calculating before either the unusual or beautiful in nature. something as illustrating this trait of his comes vividly to mind: one early march day i was out duck hunting here on the hudson and father was watching me from shore with field glasses. he was sitting in a sunny nook beside the high rocks below the hill. i was out in the drifting ice with my duck boat, which i had painted to resemble a cake of ice, and was very carefully paddling up on a flock of about a hundred canada geese. when i got almost within range i found my lead in the ice closed and could not get nearer, but that near by there was another lead in the ice that would take me within easy range. to get to this lead i had to back out of the one i was in, rather a ticklish performance when so near the watchful geese. i did it, however, and as i remember i got some geese. but father on shore could not see the narrow leads in the great fields of ice; he saw only that when near the geese i suddenly began to drift backward, and judging me by himself he said afterward: "i thought when you saw all those geese so near you got so excited you were overcome or something--and were lying there in the bottom of that boat, helpless in the ice!" the following three letters show how he watched the river for the migrating wild fowl: saturday, riverby, mch. , { .} my dear julian, your letter rec'd. i enclose check for $ as i have no bills by me. you can get it cashed at houghton, mifflin co., no. park st.--ask for mr. wheeler. or may be the treasurer of the college will cash it. we are all well and beginning the spring work. hiram and i are grafting grapes, and the boys are tying up and hauling ashes. the weather is fine and a very early spring is indicated. i have not seen a wild goose and only two or three flocks of ducks. i should like to have been with you at the sportsman's fair. if you make those water shoes or foot boats i should advise you to follow copy--make them like those you saw. your sentence about the whispering of the ducks' wings, etc., was good. ruskin invented that phrase "the pathetic fallacy." you will probably find it in your rhetoric. it was all right as applied to your sentence. susie is very quick witted. the shad men are getting ready. i hope you will go and hear the lectures of the frenchman domnic. he is worth listening to. i shall be very glad when the easter vacation brings you home once more, you are seldom out of my thoughts. i made two gallons of maple syrup. walt dumont has an auction this p. m. nip and i are going. your loving father, john burroughs nip was a fox terrier that was for years father's constant companion, and they had many adventures together. riverby, mch. { } my dear julian, i wish you were here to enjoy this fine spring morning. it is like april, bright, calm, warm, and dreamy, sparrows singing, robins and blue birds calling, hens cackling, crows cawing, while now and then the ear detects the long drawn plaint of the meadow lark. the ice in the placid river floats languidly by and i dare say your hunting ground is alive with ducks. i am boiling sap on the old stove set up here in the chip yard. i have ten trees tapped and lots of sap. i wish you had some of the syrup. your mother came back yesterday and she is now busy in the kitchen, good natured as yet, if it only lasts. she has hired a girl who is expected soon. your letter came yesterday. no doubt you will have fun acting as "supe" with the boys. it will be a novel experience. tell me all about it. a note from kennedy says he saw trowbridge lately and that t is going to ask you out to see him. go if he asks you, he is an old friend of mine and a fine man. you have read his stories when you were a boy. he has some nice girls. remember me to him if you go. i do not see or hear any ducks lately, i think they are slow in coming. but i must stop. write soon. your loving father, john burroughs. when you get time look over my article in the march _century_, i think the style is pretty good. west park mch. { } my dear boy, your letter came in due course last week and yesterday your mother was up and brought me your last letter to her. it is a great pleasure to know you keep well and in good heart and courage. i see you have pains in your arms which you vainly think the waists of girls would alleviate. but they would not, they would only increase the pains i have tried it and i know. it is quite spring like here--blue birds and clear bright days and half bare ground and drying roads and cackling hens. ice still in the river down to the elbow. keep lent all you can--that is slow up in your meat--not more than once a day at most. your head will be all the clearer. i am very well since my return and am still writing. this thought came into my head as i lay in bed this morning--you go to college for two things, knowledge and culture. in the technical schools the student gets much knowledge and little culture. the sciences and mathematics give us knowledge, only literature can give us culture. in the best history we get a measure of both, we get facts and are brought in contact with great minds. chemistry, physics, geology, etc., are not sources of culture. but lessing, goethe, schiller, shakespeare, etc., are. the discipline of mathematics is not culture in the strict sense; but the discipline that chastens the taste, feeds the imagination, kindles the sympathies, clarifies the reason, stirs the conscience and leads to self-knowledge and self-control, is culture. this we can only get from literature. work this idea up in one of your themes and show that the highest aim of a university like harvard should be culture and not knowledge. your mother is well and will soon be back. i see no ducks yet. hiram is still on his hives and the music of his saw and hammer sounds good in my ears. i shall tap a tree to-day. your loving father, j. b. after i had been settled in matthews hall, cambridge, for a time father and mother came to cambridge to see me. father said in his inimitable way that he asked mother if she would go to this place or that, and she said "no" to each; then when he suggested cambridge she said, "yes." when they returned to riverby, in the still, lonely house, they missed me, and father wrote of it all: slabsides, oct. , . my dear julian, ... we reached home safely thursday night after a dusty ride and tiresome. it is very lonesome in the house. i think we both miss you now more than we did before we left home; it is now a certainty that you are fixed there in harvard and that a wide gulf separates us. but if you will only keep well and prosper in your studies we shall endure the separation cheerfully. children have but little idea how the hearts of their parents yearn over them. when they grow up and have children of their own, then they understand and sigh, and sigh when it is too late. if you live to be old you will never forget how your father and mother came to visit you at harvard and tried so hard to do something for you. when i was your age and was at school at ashland, father and mother came one afternoon in a sleigh and spent a couple of hours with me. they brought me some mince pies and apples. the plain old farmer and his plain old wife, how awkward and curious they looked amid the throng of young people, but how precious the thought and the memory of them is to me! later in the winter hiram and wilson came each in a cutter with a girl and stayed an hour or so.... the world looks lovely but sad, sad. write us often. your affectionate father, j. b. "when it is too late"--how he understood, how broad were his sympathies! what anguish those words must cost all of us at some time! father understood, i did not--and now it is too late. west park, n. y., nov. , . my dear julian, if you will look westward now across new england about seven o'clock in the evening you will see a light again in my study window--a dim light there on the bank of the great river--dim even to the eye of faith. if your eye is sharp enough you will see me sitting there by my lamp, nibbling at books or papers or dozing in my chair wrapped in deep meditation. if you could penetrate my mind you would see that i am often thinking of you and wondering how your life is going there at harvard and what the future has in store for you. i found my path from the study grass grown, nearly obliterated. it made me sad. soon, soon, i said, all the paths i have made in this world will be overgrown and neglected. i hope you may keep some of them open. the paths i have made in literature, i hope you may keep open and make others of your own. your affectionate father, j. b. it was always a source of disappointment to father that i did not write more, that i could not carry on his work--but this was more than he should have expected. he was an essayist, fired with a literary ambition that never faltered or grew dim for over sixty years. once i wrote a brief introduction to a hunting story that won a prize in a sporting journal and i can never forget how pleased father was with it--"it filled me with emotion," he said, "it brought tears to my eyes--write a whole piece like that and i'll send it to the _atlantic_." how he loved the telling phrase, the turn of words that was apt and made the form and substance one! i know i had a little silver cup or mug that i used at table, and when i saw my first locomotive bell slowly ringing i watched it and exclaimed, "cup open bell." how father did laugh and repeat it to me afterward--the childish way of expressing the strange and new in terms of the familiar and old. the small son of a friend of father's when he first saw the ocean exclaimed, "oh, the great rainy!" and father would laugh over this expression and slap his sides in glee. the homely expressions always pleased him. one day some children came to see him. they had been sent by their parents with strict instructions to see "the man himself," and when they asked father if he was "the man himself" he had a good laugh and told them he guessed he was. he always liked to tell and act out the story of the man who went down into the cellar for a pitcher of milk. in going down he fell down the stone stairs and bruised himself painfully. as he lay groaning and rubbing himself he heard his wife call, "john, did you break the pitcher?" looking about in his anguish he saw the pitcher, unbroken. "no," he called back, gritting his teeth, "but, by thunder, i will," and seizing it by the handle he savagely smashed it over the stones. and father understood exactly how he felt. the deep interest he took in self-knowledge is well shown in the following letter: riverby, nov. , . my dear julian, i was very sorry to hear of that "d" and "e." i was probably quite as much cut up as you were. i have been melancholy ever since i heard of it. but you will feel better by and by.... one thing you are greatly lacking in, as i suppose most boys are--self-knowledge. you do not seem to know what you can or cannot do, or when you have failed or succeeded. you have always been fond of trying things beyond your powers (i the same) as in the case of the boat. i think you over estimate yourself, which i never did. you thought you ought to have had an "a" in english, and were not prepared for your low mark in french and german. do a little self-examination and nip the bud of conceit; get a fair estimate and make it too low rather than too high. i am sure i know my own weak points, see if you can't find yours. that saying of the ancients, "know thyself," is to be pondered daily. i always keep my expectations down, so that i am not disappointed if i get a "d" or an "e." my success in life has been far beyond my expectations. i know several authors who think they have not had their just deserts; but it is their own fault. i have just read this in macaulay: "if a man brings away from cambridge {where he graduated in eighteen hundred and twenty-two} self-knowledge, accuracy of mind and habits of strong intellectual exertion he has got the best the college can give him." that is what i think too. your loving father, j. b. slabsides, oct. . { .} my dear boy, i found your letter here yesterday on my return from n. j. whither i had gone on saturday to visit mr. mabie. i was glad to hear from you. you must write at least once a week. get the rowing pants you refer to and anything else you really need.... do not try to live on less than $ . a week, select the simplest and most nourishing food--meat only once a day--no pie but fruit and puddings. the weather still keeps fine here and dry; no rain yet and no heavy frosts. celery is most off; not more than $ for this second crop. i am taking out the niagaras below the hill--nothing pays, but delawares in the grape line. i have had a good deal of company as usual. it cheers me up and keeps me from the blue devils. your mother is cleaning house and groaning as usual. i can only keep my temper by flight to ss. hiram goes to roxbury to-morrow for two months or more. i shall miss him very much. he stands to me for father and mother and the old home. he is part of all those things. when he is here my chronic homesickness is alleviated. i hope you will do some reading outside of your courses. read and study and soak yourself in some great author for his style. try hawthorne or emerson or ruskin or arnold. the most pregnant style of all is in shakespeare. go into the laboratory some day and have your strength tested. binder says they can tell you what part is weakest. watch your health and keep regular hours. write us as often as you can. how i wish i was a harvard student too. with deepest affection, john burroughs. doubtless it is a wise provision of nature that we find our mates in our opposites. it is some natural law working for the good of the race, something to maintain the balance and uniformity of mankind. certainly in many ways two people could not have been more unlike than father and mother. she said he was as weak as water, and he said he could get tipsy on a glass of water. he always said that mother made the housekeeping an end in itself, and she said, "you know how he is, he never takes care of anything." how many evenings have i spent in the study when the lamp would begin to burn low for lack of oil and father would have to run and fill lit and mother would complain, "just like you, come mussing around after dark. why didn't you fill it by daylight?" ah, me, when it was daylight father did not need the lamp! it was mother who filled the lamps, trimmed them and polished the chimneys regularly in the afternoon, while the sun was still up; but it was father who trimmed and filled his lamp and let it so shine that all the world might see! after all, i am not sure but what mother was just the wife for him; he had a streak stubborn determination along with his ambition to write that carried him through any trials of housecleaning or complaints about the housework. a wife in full sympathy with his work, who coddled him and made him think that everything he wrote was perfect, would never have done at all, nor would a selfish, extravagant, or society-mad woman. father was temperamental, moody, irritable, easily influenced, easily led, suffering at times with attacks of melancholy, with but one fixed purpose, and that was to write. mother was economical, thrifty, material, suspicious of people, determined to bring their ship to a snug harbour before old age, and she took the best of care of father and held him steady and no doubt by her strength of character and firmness gave strength and firmness to his life. their last years were most happy together and filled with a sympathy and understanding that were beautiful. sometimes father would talk to himself, though but very seldom, and the following two letters are almost as though he were talking to himself. "i am far less forlorn when he is here," he says of himself and uncle hiram. with all his self-analysis he did not see that being forlorn was part of the price he must pay for the simple but intense joy he experienced from the beauty life and nature. w. p. tuesday, jan. { }. my dear julian, it still keeps mild here--snow nearly gone, but ice in the river to the elbow. we do not get away yet. your mother will not stir and hiram and i will probably go to slabsides, as she wants to shut up the house. hiram came a week ago and stays and eats here in the study--i am far less forlorn when he is here. it probably seems strange to you, i know you have never looked upon him very kindly. but you have never seen hiram--not the hiram i see. this little dull ignorant old man whom you have seen is only a transparent mask through which i see the hiram of my youth, and see the old home, the old days and father and mother and all the life on the old farm. it is a feeling you cannot understand, but you may if you live to be old. i hope you have given up that boat crew business by this time. it is not the thing for you. you do not go to harvard for that. as i wrote you, you have not the athletic temperament, but something finer and better. good sharp daily exercise you need, but not severe training. if you had been half my age probably those cold baths would have killed you. old men often die in the cold bath. the blood is driven in and makes too great a strain on the arteries. write me when you get this and tell me about yourself. your loving father, j. b. very likely what i did write told father much more than i suspected, and he always stood ready with any advice he could give, especially about matters of health. those were the years when he had many troubles: insomnia, neuralgia, and especially a trouble he called malaria, but which was largely autotoxemia. one doctor seared his arm with a white-hot iron in an effort to do away with the pain of the neuralgia and years afterward father would laugh about it--"just like african medicine man, driving out the devils in my arm with a white-hot iron--the trouble was not there, it was the poison in my system from faulty elimination." when at last he did discover the source of his troubles how happy he was! riverby, feb. { } my dear julian, your letter came this morning. winter is rugged here too. snow about inches and zero weather at night. i almost froze the top of my head up there in the old house. the ice men are scraping off the snow, ice or inches. your mother is in poughkeepsie, i was down there monday night. i doubt if she comes to cambridge and i am wondering whether i had better come or stay here and save my money. if you can come home on the easter holidays perhaps i had better not come. if you get a week had you rather not come home then than to have me come now? tell me how you feel. but i may feel different next week, i may be written out by that time. if i thought i could go on with my work there i would come at once. i am in excellent health and do not need a change. i could not do much with your english exams. i have a poor opinion of such stuff. that is not the way to make writers or thinkers. i enclose my check for the bill which you must get receipted. write me at once about the easter holidays. your loving father, john burroughs. later when he visited me in cambridge he wrote a daily theme, and i copied it and handed it in as my own, and it promptly came back marked "sane and sensible," the instructor quite unconsciously and unknowingly having hit upon two salient qualities of father's style. i remember the theme he wrote was about the statue of john harvard who sits bareheaded in the open, exposed to all weathers. father said he always wanted to go and hold something over him to keep off the snow or sun. the life he led here and the surroundings could not produce other than wholesome and sane writing. the old house spoken of was the original farmhouse that stood up near the road--it was torn down in and a new cottage put up just below it. father and i spent one summer there when we rented riverby to new york people and he spent time there later as for instance: saturday p. m., jan. { }. my dear julian, hiram and i are with the ackers {who were living in the old house then}. i find the food and give them the rent and they do the work. i shall have peace now and it will taste good. if i come to c when would you rather i should come? i am not done with my writing yet but may be in eight or ten days. writing is like duck hunting, one doesn't know what game he will get or when he will be back: that is why i am undecided. i make everything wait upon my writing. it is cold here, down to four two mornings; good sleighing. i rec'd your letter yesterday, i do not know about those plays--ask mr. page or rodman. i hope you are prospering in your exams. this is the new pen, do not like it much yet. the prospect for an ice harvest brightens. write. your loving father j.b. w. p., saturday jan. { } my dear julian, i was glad to get your letter and to see you in such high feather. i hope you will keep so. watch your health and habits and you may. still your letter did not give me unmixed satisfaction. if you knew how i dislike slang, especially the cheap vulgar kind, you would spare me the affliction of it. there is slang and slang. some has wit in it some is simply a stupid perversion of language. the latter i dislike as i do the tobacco habit to which it is close akin. you had so far escaped the tobacco habit and i had hoped you would escape the slang habit. it is not a bit more manly than the cigaret or cigar. some slang phrases, like "you're not in it" or "you're off your trolley" and others, may do in familiar conversation with friends, but "bunches of cold" or "cuts no ice" etc., are simply idiotic. when you write return me again the postal card that i may see what words i misspelled. it still keeps very mild here, but is snowing this morning. nip and i have had some fine skating--like a mirror for over a mile here in front: but the ice is getting thin. i do not know when i will come to cambridge. your mother has just been passing through the winter solstice of her temper and declares she is not going anywhere. i shall get away by and by, even if she stays here. i read balzac and enjoyed it. the first half is much the best. the ending is weak and absurd. the old miser is clearly and strongly drawn, so are most of the characters. but we do not pity or sympathize with the heroine. how large and fine is that new paltz girl, but probably like a big apple, she lacks flavour.... your affectionate father, j. b. it was very easy to see why father disliked slang--it was a perversion of his art, and as i have said he had the true pride of the craftsman in his art. no one loved more the apt and witty expression; he was forever seeking them, and slang was something that overstepped the bounds and was therefore something truly abhorrent. often i have heard him tell the story with delighted relish of some men who were spending a winter night in a country hotel. eugene field i think it was who made the remark that so delighted father, and j. t. trowbridge recounts it in "my own story." it was a bitter cold night and covers were scanty; and more than that, there were several panes out of the window. field rummaged about in the closet and found the hoops of an old hoop skirt, just then going out of fashion, and these he hung over the broken window, saying "that will keep out the coarsest of the cold!" "coarsest of the cold," father would repeat the expression and laugh again. i remember his envious acknowledgment of an apt illustration: two famous wood choppers were chopping in a match to see which could fell his tree first, and so great was their skill and so swift their blows that the chips literally poured out of the tree as though it had sprung a leak. "that is good," he said of the phrase and lowered his eyes. once we were motor-boating upon the champlain canal and we were delayed all day by the numbers of slow canal boats. yet some of the lock tenders said business was very slack. one of our party commented upon this and said that there were enough canal boats as it was, that the canal seemed pretty well gummed up with them. "pretty well gummed up with them," father repeated over and over and laughed like a child each time. often i complained about the stone house at riverby, that father in planning it did not plan to use the winter sunshine; not only were the windows not placed right but there were spruce trees in the way. "you write a book on 'winter sunshine' and you let none in your house," i told him and he said that if he had the winter sunshine in his house he might not have written the book. a statement which has a large element of fundamental truth, at least in his case. in those days we had much fun skating; father had a curious pair of old skates that he fastened on a pair of shoes so that they would not come off. these shoes he tucked, skates and all, under his arm and we were off. he would slip off his "congress" shoes and slip on the shoes with skates attached and start over the ice, his dog running by his side. once he rigged up an attempt at a sail with one of his army blankets and some pieces of moulding left over from building the study, but it would not work. people on shore said they thought it was some kind of a life-saving contraption in case he broke through the ice. one day in the shataca we had as fine a skate as we ever could imagine--there had been a thaw with high water and black creek had flooded the swamp, the water going out over the heavily timbered shataca back to the upland. this had then frozen and the water gone out from under it, leaving the glassy ice hanging from the boles of the trees. the ice sagged a little between the trees which gave one a most delightful up and down motion as they glided over it on skates, as near flying as one could imagine at that time. in spirit and often in fact father went to college with me, he attended lectures in the courses i was taking, and often when i had read a book required i sent the copy on to him to read and he would comment upon it. in the following letter he comments upon a book i had sent him, and draws at the same time a picture of days at slabsides: slabsides, sunday, may { }. my dear son, the other day when i went home your mother "jumped" me about two things,--my going down to r's to lunch and my taking you to that cent show in boston.... heavy thunder showers here thursday night, cloudy to-day. pretty warm the last three days. the primus is a great success. it uses rather more than one half cent's worth per hour. the van b's with two vassar girls were just over here. the "iceland fisherman" is a sweet tender pathetic story. one does not forget yann: and what a picture of the life of those fishermen! i did not know that france had such an industry. i paddled up black creek again on friday, but saw no ducks.... there were people here last week. write what you conclude to do about your room. the woods are nearly in full leaf now. your loving father--j. b. comparing the life of father's boyhood with our life here at riverby in those days and again comparing that with the life to-day, one cannot but wonder what will be the final outcome. in a primitive society every individual knows everything about everything that he has in life; as civilization becomes more complex we become more and more specialists, more and more the thing that the economists call the "division of labour" becomes operative, and individuals go through life to-day knowing how to do but a very few of the things necessary to their existence. the early or primitive civilization produced an independent race, and individuals picturesque and unique in character. father noticed this. he loved the old-fashioned man or woman who was so strongly individual and picturesque. i remember one such character, "old blind jimmy" he was called, who went about the country with a staff, and when father saw him coming, one day "out home," he asked me to run with my camera and station myself down the road and get a picture of old blind jimmy as he came along. i did so, and i knew at once that jimmy knew i was there. he must have heard me in some way, and surely must have heard the purr of the focal plane shutter as i took his picture. one day in the market place in jamaica, west indies, there was a savage-looking man who looked the way you would imagine a pirate of the spanish main would look, and father was much interested in him and asked me to get his picture--it took considerable manoeuvring, but i did get him at last. much of the old order clung to us here at riverby--mother always made buckwheat cakes, we got a sack of flour from "out home" and she set the cakes to rise; i can hear the sound of the wooden spoon as she mixed them up in the evening and then set them behind the stove. now we get the flour all ready to mix with water. no more running for buttermilk to use in them, no more having them rise over the batter pitcher during the night. father always ate them, five or six. no day was begun in cold weather without "pancakes." and "out home" they made their own soap, but here mother got a box of soap and carefully piled it up to dry and harden. there was a pail in the cellar for "soap grease," into which was put every scrap of fat or grease and saved until the day when the "soap man" came around and bought it. those were the days when potatoes were less than fifty cents a bushel, eggs a dollar a hundred, and the very finest roe shad could be had for twenty-five cents. and shad nets were knit by hand. i can remember father telling how the manning family, who lived below the hill, knit shad nets all winter. now one can buy the net already knit practically as cheaply as one can buy the twine. sail boats dotted the hudson--sloops and schooners loitering up and down the river or tacking noisily back and forth. i know they used to get becalmed and tide-bound out here and the sailors would come ashore and raid fruit orchards. once some of them stole a sheep and took it out to the schooner. the owner of the sheep came after the sailors with a search warrant but the mischievous sailors pulled the anchor chain up taut and tied the sheep to the chain and lowered away until the sheep, which they had butchered, was under water and the search warrant even could not find it. "the little boat" referred to in the letter of july , , and on which father shipped his peaches, was a small steamer that ran from rondout to poughkeepsie and was more or less of a family institution when the river was open. it landed when we hailed it, at the dock at the bottom of our vineyard, and father mostly went to town to do his shopping on "the little boat." once he went to get his garden seeds and, coming back, a violent squall blew his basket with all his purchases overboard. i can still remember how disgusted and ruffled he appeared over it. at another time he was on this little boat when it landed at hyde park and a team of horses, hitched to a big wagon loaded with brick, were standing on the dock. they became frightened and began to back, in spite of the efforts of the driver to stop them. in a moment the rear wheels went over the edge of the dock and then when they felt the terrible backward pull of the wagon they sprang ahead in a desperate and vain effort to save themselves. their hoofs beat frantically upon the plank, throwing up a shower of splinters, and though they strained every fibre of their bodies, they were drawn over to their death. father was much upset over it. it made a vivid impression on him. "but," he said, "there was a priest who sat near me and who hardly saw it; he paid no more attention than if nothing had happened," and i feel that all priests suffered on that account in father's estimation! one of the ceremonies here at riverby was the bringing in of the door mat at night. mother did this or told me to do it--i doubt that father would. it was brought in for fear of dampness or rain during the night, which would wet the mat and shorten its usefulness. how different from housekeeping nowadays! father always wore flannel shirts, of a dark gray, and these had the unfortunate habit of shrinking about the neck, so in washing them they were stretched and then dried over a milk pail--i can see them now, hanging on the line with the pail protruding from the neck. i played a cruel joke on father one night; i was going out to the hired man's house to play cards and asked father to leave the door open for me, which he did. it was very late when i returned, half-past nine or ten o'clock, and as i did not want to disturb any one i crept in in my most stealthy way and up to bed. in the morning father asked me excitedly when i got in. "you must have been mighty sly about it," he said, half in admiration, half in reproach, when i told him, "for i lay awake listening for you to come in and when it got to be after ten i got up to come down and see what had become of you and i found you had come in." it is ever true that many of the things that a man regards as important a woman does not; and conversely, many things a woman takes seriously are to a man a joke. the following gives a picture of the life here then and sums up the difference between the point of view of father and mother: thursday, may { } my dear boy, i meant to have written you before this but i have been very much occupied and your mother has been wrestling with her house. she has gotten down to the kitchen with her cleaning. she has hired a woman who is to come next week and she wants to get the house in order for her. i have had company. on friday afternoon "teddy roosevelt jr" came and stayed until monday morning. he is his father in miniature. he kept me on the stretch all the time. on saturday we went up the shataca and cooked our dinner on the little island where you and i did. we had a good time. he climbed trees and rocks like a squirrel. he was all the time looking for something difficult to do. may . i was choked off here and now i am in a pickle. we began to fix the cistern yesterday and got it half finished when the rain came--an inch and a half of water and your mother is furious--cried all night and is crying and storming yet this morning. of course the blame is all mine. i wanted to fix it ten days ago but she said no, she wanted the water to clean house. if i and you had both died she could not have shed more tears than she has over this petty matter. i shall take to slabsides to escape this tearful deluge. it has been very dry, no rain and no tears for six weeks. i was glad to see it come, cistern or no cistern. it has saved the hay crop and the strawberries. the leaves are all out here and the apple blossoms fallen. mr. and mrs. johnson of n. y. came sunday and left monday night. clifton johnson came tuesday morning and left wednesday. some vassar people were coming to-day but it rains from the n. e. of course you can pick up no decent girl on the street and i should keep aloof from them. a decent girl would resent the advances of a stranger. the birds are very numerous this spring. your loving father j. b. in the spring of ' father was asked to join the e. h. harriman alaska expedition, and though very reluctant he consented to go--he was historian of the expedition and his account of it appeared in the _century_ and in his book, "far and near." mother had always said that "his folks" were afraid to go out of sight of the smoke of the home chimney. something of this was in father. he had to make himself go. he was always unhappy when leaving home and home ties. he made many new friends on this trip--john muir, whom he liked immensely in spite of the fact that he sometimes called him a "cross-grained scotchman"; fuertes, the nature artist; dallenbaugh, one of those who made the trip through the grand canyon with major powell and who wrote "a canyon voyage"; charles keeler, the poet, and many others. near fort wrangell, alaska june { }. my dear boy, still we steam northward through these wonderful channels and mountain-locked sounds that mark this side of the continent amid such scenery as you and i never dreamed of. this morning we woke up at fort wrangell under a clear cold sky, like a florida winter, some of them said, mercury and snow capped peaks all around the horizon. on shore some wild flowers were blooming and weeds and shrubs had a good start. i saw swallows and heard song sparrows, not differing much from those at home. we have had fair weather most of the time since leaving victoria but cold. i have borrowed a heavy overcoat and wish i had two. i sit at the door of my state room writing this and looking out upon the blue sparkling sea water and the snow capped and spruce mantled mountain ranges. muir has just passed by, then mr. harriman racing with his children. i like him. he is a small man, about the size of ingersoll and the same age, brown hair and moustache and round strong head. he seems very democratic and puts on no airs. a. m. we are now going up the wrangell narrows like the highlands of the hudson, miles long with snow capped peaks in the back-ground and black spruce clad hills and bends in the foreground. ducks, geese, loons, and eagles all along. bang, bang, go the rifles from the deck, but nothing is hurt. it is clear and still. how i wish for you! last night at nine thirty we had such a sun-set; snow white peaks seven or eight thousand feet high riding slowly along the horizon behind dark purple walls of near mountain ranges all aflame with the setting sun. such depths of blue and purple, such glory of flame and gold, such vistas of luminous bays and sounds i had never dreamed of. i keep well but eat better than i sleep. only two or three times have we felt the great throb of the pacific through open gateways in this wall of islands. the first time it made me miss my dinner, which is not as bad as to lose it. in a week or two we shall have to face it for many days; then i shall want to go home. we have seen deer and elk from the steamer. we have reached the land of indians and ravens. many indians in every town and ravens perched in rows upon the house tops. our crowd is fearfully and wonderfully learned--all specialists. i am the most ignorant and the most untravelled man among them, and the most silent. we expect to reach juneau to-night and i may be able to write once more--from sitka. i wish i knew if you were going west and how things are at home. i suppose you will be home before this can reach you. i wonder if you have had rain and if the grapes are breaking. i got me a stunning pair of shoes at seattle--$ . . down in the belly of our ship are fat steers, horses, a cow, a lot of sheep, hens, chickens, turkeys, etc. it looks like a farmer's barn yard down there. but i must stop, with much love to you and your mother. j. b. we have just passed the devil's thumb, over , feet high. from the top rises a naked shaft feet high--this is the thumb. our first glacier, too is here, a great mass of whitish ice settled low in the lap of the mountains. from sitka, june th, he wrote: my dear boy, the steamer yesterday did not bring me a letter from you or your mother. i was much disappointed. if you had written as late as june rd it would have reached me. i got one from hiram, he is well and his bees are doing well. there will be no other chance to get letters until we return the last of july. i dreamed of you last night and you told me the grapes were not doing well. i read in the papers of the heat in the east and we all wish for some of it here. i got me a heavy flannel shirt here and i feel warmer. the mercury is from to to-day. dandelions are just past the height of their bloom, currant bushes just blooming, peas are up ten inches and weeds have a good start. there is no agriculture in alaska, though potatoes do well. i have seen one cow, a yoke of oxen and a few horses. there are no roads except about one mile here. the streets of most of the towns are only broad plank sidewalks. yet hens scratch here and roosters crow the same as at home. this town is very prettily situated; back of it rise steep, dark spruce-covered mountains, about , feet--in front of it a large irregular bay studded with tree-tufted islands, beyond that ten miles away rise snow capped peaks, from the top of which one could look down upon the pacific. no land has been cleared except where the town stands. there may be , people here, half of them indians. the indians are well clad and clean and quiet and live in good frame houses. many of them are half breeds. the forests are almost impassable on account of logs, brush, moss and rocks. we have nothing like it in the east. the logs are as high as your head and the moss knee deep. there are plenty of deer and bears here. day before yesterday one of mr. harriman's daughters shot a deer. there are four nice girls in the party from sixteen to eighteen, as healthy and jolly and unaffected as the best country girls--two of mr. harriman's, a cousin of theirs, and a friend, a miss draper. then there are three governesses and a trained nurse. this is a land of ravens and eagles. the ravens perch on the houses and garden fences and the eagles are seen on the dead trees along shore. the barn swallow is here and the robin and red-start. one day we went down to the hot springs and i drank water just from hades: it reeked with its sulphur fumes and steamed with its heat. i wish we had such a spring on board, it would help warm us. i have met a hyde park man here, de graff. i have met four people here who read my books and two at juneau and one at skagway. we leave here tonight for yakutat bay, hours at sea. i should be quite content to go home now or spend the rest of the time in the west. i would give something to know how things are with you--the vineyards and the celery and what your plans are and your mother's. i still eat and sleep well and am putting on flesh. love to you both. let me find letters at portland in july. your loving father, j. b. near orca, prince william sound, alaska, june { }. my dear julian, since i wrote you at sitka we have come further north and spent five days in yakutat bay and since saturday in this sound--have seen innumerable glaciers and lofty mountains and wild strange scenes. at yakutat we went into disenchantment bay, miles where no large steamer had ever gone before. this bay is a long slender arm of the sea which puts out from the head of yakutat bay and penetrates the st. elias range of mountains. it was a weird grand scene. birds were singing and flowers were blooming with snow and ice all about us. i saw a single barn swallow skimming along as at home. there were many indians hunting seal among the icebergs. in coming on here the ship rolled a good deal and i was not happy, though not really sick. on saturday we entered this sound in clear sunshine and the clear skies continued sunday and monday. this morning it is foggy and misty. we steamed eighty-miles across the sound on sunday in the bright warm sunshine over blue sparkling waters. how we all enjoyed it! far off rose lofty mountains as white as in midwinter, next to them a lower range streaked with snow and next to them and rising from the water a still lower range, dark with spruce forests. orca, where we anchored saturday night, is a small cluster of houses on an arm of the sound where they can salmon, immense numbers of them. two hundred men are employed there at this season. the salmon run up all the little rivers and streams, some of our party have shot them with rifles. camping parties go out from the ship to collect birds and plants and to hunt bears and to stay two or three nights. no bears have as yet been seen. i stick to the ship. the mosquitoes are very thick on shore and besides that my face has troubled me a good deal, till the sunshine came on sunday. i must have a taste of camp life on kadiak island, where we expect to be eight or ten days. yesterday we found many new glaciers and two new inlets not down on the largest maps. we are now anchored to pick up a camping party we left on sunday. near us are two islands where two men are breeding blue foxes, their skins bring $ . we have seen one eskimo here in his kyack. one can read here on deck at eleven o'clock at night. we have set our watches back six hours since leaving new york. i am rather dainty now about my eating, but keep well. i dreamed last night again about home and that the grapes were a failure. i hope dreams do go by opposites. i suppose you are shipping the currants. we get no mail. i hope to send this by a steamer from the north, said to be due. we have lectures and concerts and games and the people enjoy themselves much. i keep aloof much of the time. i hope you both keep well. love to you both. j. b. from kadiak father wrote of the "epidemic of verse writing" that broke out among the members of the expedition. it was the custom to hang the verses up in the smoking room, and on that fact, even, father later wrote some doggerel. it was while on this expedition that he wrote, "golden crowned sparrow in alaska," one verse especially: but thou, sweet singer of the wild, i give more heed to thee; thy wistful note of fond regret strikes deeper chords in me. seems so strangely pathetic and like many of his moods. kadiak, july , ' . my dear julian, in trying to get off last night the ship got aground and must wait for high tide. i wrote to your mother yesterday. it is bright and lovely this morning, the mercury at --it is hot. i send you a jingle. several of the men write doggerel and put it up in the smoking room, so i am doing it too. mine is best so far. we will soon be off now, i trust you are well. i try not to worry. bow westward faithful steamer and show the east your heels new conquests lie before you in far aleutian fields kick high, if high you must but don't do so at meals, oh don't do so at meals. your swinging it is graceful but i do detest your reels. we're bound for unalaska and we do not care who squeals but mend your pace a little and show the east your heels but in your waltzing with old neptune don't forget the hours of meals don't forget the hours of meals i'm sure you have no notion how dreadful bad it feels! push onward into bering and hasten to the seals one glance upon their harems then take unto your heels more steam into your boilers more vigor in your wheels but in flirting with the billows oh regard the hours of meals do regard the hours of meals. if in this we are exacting please remember how it feels. we're bound for arctic waters and for the midnight sun then quicken your propeller and your pace into a run we'll touch at lone siberia to take a polar bear then hie away through bering straits and more frigid regions dare but in all thy wild cavorting oh don't forget our prayer a noble task's before us and we'll do it ere we go we'll cut the arctic circle and take the thing in tow and put it round the philippines and cool 'em off with snow. our boys will hail our coming, but a chill will seize the foe. and we'll end the war in triumph go you homeward fast or slow. kadiak, july , . though this was a delightful trip, one might say, an ideal trip, he was homesick, sea sick, and, as he says of himself, of all the party the most ignorant, the most untravelled, the most silent. it was a new experience to him, this going with a crowd. i know he often spoke of the expedition's cheer, and how they would all give it when they came into stations-- who are we! who are we! we're the harriman, harriman h. a. e.! h. a. e.! and "how the people would stare at us!" father said. he liked it, this jolly comradeship and crowd spirit, but it was new to him, almost painfully new, and though no one had more human sympathy, more tenderness and understanding with human weaknesses and shortcomings, no one had less of the crowd spirit. as he said, he kept aloof--not from aloofness but from embarrassment and shyness. later he overcame most of this and was able to face a crowd or an audience with composure and sureness. with this picture in mind another is recalled, one of him here at riverby on summer days, scraping corn to make corn cakes. with an armful of green corn that he had picked, i can see him seated and with one of mother's old aprons tucked under his beard. he would carefully cut down the rows of kernels and then with the back of a knife would scrape the milk of the corn into a big yellow bowl. he would hold the white ears in his brown hands and deftly cut each row, a look of composure and serenity in his eyes. he could eat his share of the cakes, too, and i like to think of those summer days. that fall he wrote from slabsides: nov. , my dear julian, i am over here this morning warming up and making ready for dinner. hud and his wife and your mother are coming over soon. we are to have a roast duck and other things and i shall do the roasting and baking here. i wish you were here too. it is a cloudy day, but still and mild. i keep pretty well and am working on my alaska trip--have already written about ten thousand words. the _century_ paid me $ for two poems--three times as much as milton got for "paradise lost." the third poem i shall weave into the prose sketch. the n. y. _world_ sent a man up to see me a couple of weeks ago to get me to write six or seven hundred words for their sunday edition. they wanted me to write on the thanksgiving turkey! offered me $ --they wanted it in two days. of course i could not do it off-hand in that way. so i fished out of my drawer an old ms, that i had rejected and sent that. they used it and sent me $ . it was in the sunday _world_ of nov. . i have sold four lots here for $ . one house will be started this fall. wallhead and millard of p. if i don't look out i will make some money out of this place yet. your mother begins to look more kindly upon it. a n. y. sculptor has bought the rock beyond the spring for $ . van and allie are ditching and cleaning the swamp of the italians below here. photography is not an art in the sense that painting or music or sculpture is an art. it is nearer the mechanical arts. nothing is an art that does not involve the imagination and the artistic perceptions. all the essentials of photography are mechanical--the judgment and the experience of the man are only secondary. a photograph can never be really a work of art. you can put those statements in the form of a syllogism. i hope you are better of your cold. some building burned up in hyde park early last night. robert gill shot himself in n. y. the other day--suicide. we shall be very glad to see you again. your loving father, j. b. a long line of ducks just flew over going north. the last letter from slabsides was on may , : my dear boy, i am here surrounded by the peace and sweetness of slabsides. i came here saturday morning in the rain. it is a soft, hazy morning, the sun looking red through a thin layer of seamless clouds. amasa is hoeing in the celery, which looks good, and the birds are singing and calling all about. i have got to go to n. y. this afternoon to a dinner. i had much rather stay here, but i cannot well get out of going.... i begin to feel that i could get to writing again if i was left alone. i want to write a _youth's companion_ piece called "babes in the woods" about some young rabbits and young blue birds teddy {footnote: the son of president roosevelt.} and i found. did you row in the races? what race are you preparing for now? it is bad business. the doctors tell me that those athletic and racing men nearly all have enlargement of the heart and die young. when they stop it, as they do after their college days, they have fatty degeneration. in anything we force nature at our peril. when you are in boston go into houghton mifflin co. and tell them to give you my last book "the light of day" and charge to me. there is some good writing in it. your loving father, j. b. when i graduated at harvard of course father was there and he went to the baseball game and other things--we had a little reception in my room in hastings. in the yard one day one of the old classes came along and among them was the new vice-president, theodore roosevelt, and everyone cheered. "yes," said father, as we stood there that bright june day, "teddy takes the crowd"--how little did he know the future, or guess that some day he would write a book "camping and tramping with roosevelt"! jacob reid has said that no one who really knew roosevelt ever called him teddy, and i know it was so in father's case. on his trip to the yellowstone with the president, father wrote: in south dakota, april , p. m. dear julian, we are now speeding northward over dakota prairies. on every hand the level brown prairie stretches away to the horizon. the groups of farm buildings are from one half to a mile apart and look as lonely as ships at sea. spots and streaks of snow here and there, fallen this morning. a few small tree plantations, but no green thing; farmers plowing and sowing wheat; straw stacks far and near; miles of corn stubble, now and then a lone school house; the roads a black line fading away in the distance, the little villages shabby and ugly. when the train stops for water a crowd of men, women, and children make a rush for the president's car. he either speaks to them a few minutes or else gets off and shakes hands with them. he slights no one. he is a true democrat. he makes about a dozen speeches per day, many of them in the open air. as his friend and guest i am kept near him. at the banquets i sit at his table; on the platforms i sit but a few feet away, in the drives i am in the fourth carriage. if i hang back he sends for me and some nights comes to my room to see how i have stood the day. in st. paul and minneapolis there were fifty thousand people on the sidewalks. as we drove slowly along through the solid walls of human beings i saw a big banner borne by some school girls with my name upon it. as my carriage came up the girls pushed through the crowd and hurriedly handed me a big bouquet of flowers. the president saw it and was much pleased.... other things like that have happened, so you can see your dad is honored in strange lands--more than he is at home.... i see prairie chickens as we speed along, and a few ducks and one flock of geese.... it is near sundown now and i see only a level sea of brown grass with a building here and there on the rim of the horizon.... we are well fed and i have to look out or i eat too much. you can see that the world is round up here. your affectionate father, j. b. how well i can see father's expression as he wrote that line, "your dad is honoured in strange lands--more than he is at home"! and i sympathize with him fully. it has always been thus, that people of genius are least appreciated in their own home. and yet few men have the patience and gentleness that he had; few were as easy to get along with. he asked little for himself and was generous with what was his, and generous to the faults or shortcomings of others. i remember in one of those early march days the school boys raided his sap pans and father chased and caught them, and as he overhauled one boy, the boy exclaimed pantingly, "i didn't touch your sap, mr. burris!" and father laughed over it. "the little rascal was all wet down his front then with sap!" father would then tell the story of the boy in school who was seen by his teacher eating an apple. "i saw you then," exclaimed the teacher. "saw me do what?" said the boy. "saw you bite that apple." "i didn't bite any apple," replied the boy. "come here," and as the boy came up the teacher opened his mouth and took out a big chunk of apple. "i didn't know it was there," promptly said the boy. father would always laugh at that: he sympathized with the boy. yet when he taught school he had a big bundle of "gads" as he called them and he hid them in the stove pipe, where the boys failed to find them. i remember how mother said that one boy imposed upon father's good nature too far, and then when father did finally get angry he got furious and grabbed the boy, who hung on his desk, and father took him desk and all, tearing the desk from its floor fastenings. doubtless afterward he was very sorry he had let his temper "get the better" of him, as he would express it. in those days we often went for a swim, either in the river, or over to the swimming pool in black creek. father was a good swimmer but he would never dive--he said it always seemed to him that there would be many water soldiers down there holding up spears, and one would be impaled upon them if he dived. many times i have asked myself just how he looked in those days when he was so strong and active. there was something very natural about him, a thin white skin that bled easily at a scratch; fine hair that grew well and was wavy; a fine-grained, fluid kind of body, like the new growth of ferns or new shoots of willows; medium size hands, broad and brown, with fingers bent from milking when he was a small boy; picturesque in dress, everything soft and subdued in colour. someone once said that his style in literature was slovenly, and father said that that was true. "i am slovenly in my dress and all i do, so no doubt my style is slovenly also." though this may seem to be a harsh criticism, it is true in the sense that nature he self is slovenly, slovenly in contrast to what is stiff and artificial. his eyes were grayish brown, light, with a hint of green. his voice was soft and when he was embarrassed he stammered; he would force the words out, with a little hesitation; then when the word did come it was quick and forced. in the same way his long-enduring patience, when once it did become exhausted the temper came out in full measure. often he was the one who suffered--more often, i should say. in the following letter he refers to the broken bone in his hand, a long and painful break, that caused him months of suffering. one day when chopping wood on his wood pile by the study a small stick irritated him, it would not lie still, but rolled about and dodged the axe until in fury father managed to strike it. the stick flew back and in some way broke the bone in his right hand that goes to the knuckle of the index finger, which he used in writing. at home, feb. { }. dear julian, your letter was forwarded me from m. i got here early monday morning. i got my teeth saturday. i feel as if i had a tin roof in my mouth, cornice and all. i don't know how i can ever endure them, they are horrible.... i took your hobo piece to dr. barrus and she read it to miss c and me, they were both delighted with it, even enthusiastic. _forest and stream_ has returned your piece. i enclose their letter. i have read the paper. it is not anywhere near as good as your hobo sketch--has not the same sparkle, buoyancy, and go. you can make it better. in such an account you must put a spell upon your reader and to do this you must go more into detail and be more deeply absorbed yourself. my hand is nearly well. three doctors in m agreed that i had broken a bone.... love to you all, j. b. father always took a most lively interest in the few magazine articles i wrote and though he would never "correct" a ms. he would tell why it was good or bad, and if it was good it gave him the greatest pleasure. once when i wrote an article called "making hens lay" and showed him the cheque i received for it, he exclaimed, "_that_ is the way to make hens lay!" though he often said that if he wrote what the editors wanted him to write, very soon they would not want what he did write, he replied to my saying that verdi's most popular opera was written to order, that a similar request from an editor gave him a hint from which he wrote one of his best essays. the controversy which father started and which president roosevelt joined and in which he coined the phrase "nature fakers" did father much good in that it quickened his thoughts and stimulated him in many ways. he received many abusive letters, which only amused and entertained him, and in all it made a most interesting episode. in one of his letters from washington he wrote: "at the carnegie dinner i met thompson seton. he behaved finely and asked to sit next me at dinner. he quite won my heart." that was march , . in checking up the statements made by the "nature fakers" father's own power of observation was much sharpened and he became more alert. and receiving pay for articles that he wrote on the subject was an added source of fun; it was like spoils captured from the enemy. i remember well one day on the champlain canal we stopped at noon and father said hilariously: "we'll all go to the hotel for dinner. we won't bother to cook dinner, we'll let the nature fakers pay for our dinner!" like everyone else he had his blind side, things he looked at without seeing, things that had no interest or message for him. on march , , he wrote: "that slip in the _outlook_ letter irritates me. but any one can see it was a slip of the pen--nothing can drift to windward--things drift to leeward. i see how they are laughing at me in the last number." one first-hand observation father made i can never forget. the joke was entirely on him, but he laughed and saw only the nature facts. in going up to maine on a fishing expedition we had to wait for hours in the woods at a junction. while waiting we went down to a fall, where the brown waters of a small river poured down over many ledges of sandstone. in this sandstone were worn many pot-holes, some of them perfect, and of all sizes. in one about the size of a butter tub was a sucker, a measly fish about a foot long. nothing else to do, father pulled off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, and getting down on his knees he began to chase this sucker about the pot-hole to catch him. the sucker went around and around very deliberately until just the right moment arrived when, with a sudden burst, he threw at least half the water in the pool into father's face. the sucker went down with the miniature flood to a larger pot-hole below. father was soaked, choked, strangled, and blinded with the water, but when he had shaken himself and blown the water from his mouth and nose and wiped his eyes he said: "now if that had been a trout he would have been so rattled that he would have jumped right out here on the rocks, but you see you can't rattle a sucker!" there was one subject that father always took seriously, and that was the question of his diet. in his youth he had known nothing of proper diet, and though the wholesome, home-made food on the farm had been the best possible thing for him, in his early manhood he had been most intemperate in his eating--"eating a whole pie at one sitting," he said. he loved to recall that when he had the measles he was ordered by the doctor to drink nothing, and when his thirst got to an unbearable point he arose, dressed, climbed out of the bedroom window and got some lemonade, of which he drank about a quart--"and i got well at once," he would add with a laugh. i wrote some verses about his eating experiments and i never knew whether he was amused or hurt. he said rather soberly, the only mention he ever made of them: "i have a new rule now, so you can add another verse to your poem." mother was taken sick in georgia, where she and father were spending the winter, the winter of - , and in march, , she died here at west park. father had gone away. though we all knew she could not recover, we all thought she would live until he returned, but she did not, and from cuba, where the news reached him, he wrote a beautiful tribute. later, after his return, we laid her to rest among her family in the little cemetery in ton gore, the town where father first taught school so many years ago. one by one he had seen his family go, and many of his friends. i remember that when i told him of a princess whom carlyle said outlived her own generation and the next and into the next, he said, "how lonely she must have been!" and much of this loneliness came into his sighs and into his thoughts as he felt himself nearing the grave. as he sat at his desk in the little study, his feet wrapped in an old coat, an open fire snapping in the fireplace, his pen turned more and more to the great question. even in he wrote from roxbury, at the time of the death of his sister abigail: i am much depressed, but must not indulge my grief, our band of brothers and sisters has not been broken since wilson died, thirty-seven years ago. which of us will go next? in the autumn weather in the autumn of our days we buried our sister beside her husband. in the same letter, from his own experience he says: i can understand your want of sympathy with the new college youth. you have learned one of the lessons of life, namely, that we cannot go back--cannot repeat our lives. there is already a gulf between you and those college days. they are of the past. you cannot put yourself in the place of the new men. the soul constantly demands new fields, new experiences. in he wrote: in this mysterious intelligence which rules and pervades nature and which is focussed and gathered up in the mind of man and becomes conscious of itself--what becomes of it at death? does it fall back again into nature as the wave falls back into the ocean, to be gathered up and focussed in other minds? during mother's last illness she was tenderly cared for by an old friend of the family, dr. clara barrus, who then took up the burden of caring for father, not only safeguarding his health, but helping him in his literary work as well. on november , , we said good-bye in the station in poughkeepsie. i looked forward to seeing him in the spring with so much joy. but he was very sad, and his hand felt frail in mine. his last letter, written in a broken, running hand, so different from the swift, virile up-and-down hand of thirty years ago, came from california, where he was urging me to join the party. so characteristic of him and of his love of a dog and all the homely things is the line "scratch jack's back for me." i had written him that i was anxious to see smoke coming out of his study chimney once more, and this simple thought gave him much pleasure. but it was not to be. la jolla, california, jany. { } dear julian, your letters come promptly and are always very welcome. we all keep well. eleanor is back again and is driving the car. ursie is getting fat, she drinks only filtered water, as we all do. i have had attacks of my old trouble, but a dose of epsom salts every morning is fast curing me of them. it is still cold here and has been showery for a week or two. shriner is painting my portrait and has got a fine thing. we are booked to return on mch. th. we shall go to pasadena feb. rd, our address there will be sierra madre. it is about six miles from pasadena in pasadena glen. how i wish you could be here for those last two months. yesterday shriner took us for a long drive over in el cajon valley and we saw a wonderful farming country, the finest i have yet seen in california, miles of orange and lemon orchards and grape vines and cattle ranches. for the past week we can see snow on the mountains nearer by than i have ever seen it. we can just see the peak of old baldie, white as ever. as i write a big airplane is going north out over the sea. i wish you would have taroni or some one bring me a load of wood for my study fire. i am bidding farewell to la jolla and california. i never expect to return: it is too far, too expensive, and too cold. i long to see the snow again and to feel a genuine cold and escape from this "aguish" chill. i hope you all keep well. scratch jack's back for me. love to emily and betty and john, your loving father, j. b. the end this ebook was produced by sue asscher asschers@bigpond.com life and letters of thomas henry huxley by his son leonard huxley. in three volumes. volume . (plate: portrait of t.h. huxley, from a photograph by downey, . mcqueen, sc.) contents. chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . - . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . . chapter . . chapter . . . appendix . appendix . appendix . appendix . index. chapter . . . [the first half of , like that of the preceding year, was chequered by constant returns of ill-health.] "as one gets older," [he writes in a new year's letter to sir j. donnelly, "hopes for oneself get more moderate, and i shall be content if next year is no worse than the last. blessed are the poor in spirit!" [the good effects of the visit to arolla had not outlasted the winter, and from the end of february he was obliged to alternate between london and the isle of wight. nevertheless, he managed to attend to a good deal of business in the intervals between his periodic flights to the country, for he continued to serve on the royal society council, to do some of the examining work at south kensington, and to fight for the establishment of adequate technical education in england. he attended the senate and various committees of the london university and of the marine biological association. several letters refer to the proposal--it was the jubilee year--to commemorate the occasion by the establishment of the imperial institute. to this he gladly gave his support; not indeed to the merely social side; but in the opportunity of organising the practical applications of science to industry he saw the key to success in the industrial war of the future. seconding the resolution proposed by lord rothschild at the mansion house meeting on january , he spoke of the relation of industry to science--the two great developments of this century. formerly practical men looked askance at science, "but within the last thirty years, more particularly," continues the report in "nature" (volume page ) "that state of things had entirely changed. there began in the first place a slight flirtation between science and industry, and that flirtation had grown into an intimacy, he must almost say courtship, until those who watched the signs of the times saw that it was high time that the young people married and set up an establishment for themselves. this great scheme, from his point of view, was the public and ceremonial marriage of science and industry." proceeding to speak of the contrast between militarism and industrialism, he asked whether, after all, modern industry was not war under the forms of peace. the difference was the difference between modern and ancient war, consisting in the use of scientific weapons, of organisation and information. the country, he concluded, had dropped astern in the race for want of special education which was obtained elsewhere by the artisan. the only possible chance for keeping the industry of england at the head of the world was through organisation. writing on january , to mr. herbert spencer, who had sent him some proofs of his autobiography to look through, he says:--] i see that your proofs have been in my hands longer than i thought for. but you may have seen that i have been "starring" at the mansion house. this was not exactly one of those bits of over-easiness to pressure with which you reproach me--but the resultant of a composition of pressures, one of which was the conviction that the "institute" might be made into something very useful and greatly wanted--if only the projectors could be made to believe that they had always intended to do that which your humble servant wants done--that is the establishment of a sort of royal society for the improvement of industrial knowledge and an industrial university--by voluntary association. i hope my virtue may be its own reward. for except being knocked up for a day or two by the unwonted effort, i doubt whether there will be any other. the thing has fallen flat as a pancake, and i greatly doubt whether any good will come of it. except a fine in the shape of a subscription, i hope to escape further punishment for my efforts to be of use. [however, this was only the beginning of his campaign. on january , a letter from him appeared in the "times," guarding against a wrong interpretation of his speech, in the general uncertainty as to the intentions of the proposers of the scheme.] i had no intention [he writes] of expressing any enthusiasm on behalf of the establishment of a vast permanent bazaar. i am not competent to estimate the real utility of these great shows. what i do see very clearly is that they involve difficulties of site, huge working expenses, the potentiality of endless squabbles, and apparently the cheapening of knighthood. [as for the site proposed at south kensington,] "the arguments used in its favour in the report would be conclusive if the dry light of reason were the sole guide of human action." [but it would alienate other powerful and wealthy bodies, which were interested in the central institute of the city and guilds technical institute,] "which looks so portly outside and is so very much starved inside." [he wrote again to the "times" on march :--] the central institute is undoubtedly a splendid monument of the munificence of the city. but munificence without method may arrive at results indistinguishably similar to those of stinginess. i have been blamed for saying that the central institute is "starved." yet a man who has only half as much food as he needs is indubitably starved, even though his short rations consist of ortolans and are served upon gold plate. [only half the plan of operations as drawn up by the committee was, or could be, carried out on existing funds. the later part of his letter was printed by the committee as defining the functions of the new institute:--] that with which i did intend to express my strong sympathy was the intention which i thought i discerned to establish something which should play the same part in regard to the advancement of industrial knowledge which has been played in regard to science and learning in general, in these realms, by the royal society and the universities...i pictured the imperial institute to myself as a house of call for all those who are concerned in the advancement of industry; as a place in which the home-keeping industrial could find out all he wants to know about colonial industry and the colonist about home industry; as a sort of neutral ground on which the capitalist and the artisan would be equally welcome; as a centre of intercommunication in which they might enter into friendly discussion of the problems at issue between them, and, perchance, arrive at a friendly solution of them. i imagined it a place in which the fullest stores of industrial knowledge would be made accessible to the public; in which the higher questions of commerce and industry would be systematically studied and elucidated; and where, as in an industrial university, the whole technical education of the country might find its centre and crown. if i earnestly desire to see such an institution created, it is not because i think that or anything else will put an end to pauperism and want--as somebody has absurdly suggested,--but because i believe it will supply a foundation for that scientific organisation of our industries which the changed conditions of the times render indispensable to their prosperity. i do not think i am far wrong in assuming that we are entering, indeed, have already entered, upon the most serious struggle for existence to which this country has ever been committed. the latter years of the century promise to see us embarked in an industrial war of far more serious import than the military wars of its opening years. on the east, the most systematically instructed and best-informed people in europe are our competitors; on the west, an energetic offshoot of our own stock, grown bigger than its parent, enters upon the struggle possessed of natural resources to which we can make no pretension, and with every prospect of soon possessing that cheap labour by which they may be effectually utilised. many circumstances tend to justify the hope that we may hold our own if we are careful to "organise victory." but to those who reflect seriously on the prospects of the population of lancashire and yorkshire--should the time ever arrive when the goods which are produced by their labour and their skill are to be had cheaper elsewhere--to those who remember the cotton famine and reflect how much worse a customer famine would be, the situation appears very grave. [on february and , he wrote again to the "times" declaring against the south kensington site. it was too far from the heart of commercial organisation in the city, and the city people were preparing to found a similar institution of their own. he therefore wished to prevent the imperial institute from becoming a weak and unworthy memorial of the reign. a final letter to the "times" on march , was evoked by the fact that lord hartington, in giving away the prizes at the polytechnic y.m.c.a., had adopted huxley's position as defined in his speech, and declared that science ought to be aided on precisely the same grounds on which we aid the army and navy. in this letter he asks, how do we stand prepared for the task thus imperatively set us? we have the machinery for providing instruction and information, and for catching capable men, but both in a disjointed condition]--"all mere torsos--fine, but fragmentary." "the ladder from the school board to the universities, about which i dreamed dreams many years ago, has not yet acquired much more substantiality than the ladder of jacob's vision," [but the science and art department, the normal school of science, and the central institute only want the means to carry out the recommendations already made by impartial and independent authority.] "economy does not lie in sparing money, but in spending it wisely." [he concluded with an appeal to lord hartington to take up this task of organising industrial education and bring it to a happy issue. a proposal was also made to the royal society to co-operate, and sir m. foster writes on february : "we have appointed a committee to consider and draw up a draft reply with a view of the royal society following up your letter." to this huxley replied on the nd:--] ...my opinion is that the royal society has no right to spend its money or pledge its credit for any but scientific objects, and that we have nothing to do with sending round the hat for other purposes. the project of the institute committee as it stands connected with the south kensington site--is condemned by all the city people and will receive none but the most grudging support from them. they are going to set up what will be practically an institute of their own in the city. the thing is already a failure. i daresay it will go on and be varnished into a simulacrum of success--to become eventually a ghost like the albert hall or revive as a tea garden. [the following letter also touches upon the function of the institute from the commercial side:--] marlborough place, february , . my dear donnelly, mr. law's suggestion gives admirable definition to the notions that were floating in my mind when i wrote in my letter to the "times", that i imagined the institute would be a "place in which the fullest stores of industrial knowledge would be made accessible to the public." a man of business who wants to know anything about the prospects of trade with, say, boorioboola-gha (vide bleak house) ought to be able to look into the institute and find there somebody who will at once fish out for him among the documents in the place all that is known about boorioboola. but a commercial intelligence department is not all that is wanted, vide valuable letter aforesaid. i hope your appetite for the breakfast was none the worse for last night's doings--mine was rather improved, but i am dog-tired. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i return miss --'s note. she evidently thinks my cage is labelled "these animals bite." [later in the year, the following letters show him continuing the campaign. but an attack of pleurisy, which began the very day of the jubilee, prevented him from coming to speak at a meeting upon technical education. in the autumn, however, he spoke on the subject at manchester, and had the satisfaction of seeing the city "go solid," as he expressed it, for technical education. the circumstances of this visit are given later.] marlborough place, may , . my dear roscoe, i met lord hartington at the academy dinner last night and took the opportunity of urging upon him the importance of following up his technical education speech. he told me he had been in communication with you about the matter, and he seemed to me to be very well disposed to your plans. i may go on crying in the wilderness until i am hoarse, with no result, but if he and you and mundella will take it up, something may be done. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, june , . my dear roscoe, donnelly was here on sunday and was quite right up to date. i felt i ought to be better, and could not make out why the deuce i was not. yesterday the mischief came out. there is a touch of pleurisy--which has been covered by the muscular rheumatism. so i am relegated to bed and told to stop there--with the company of cataplasms to keep me lively. i do not think the attack in any way serious--but m. pl. is a gentleman not to be trifled with, when you are over sixty, and there is nothing for it but to obey my doctor's orders. pray do not suppose i would be stopped by a trifle, if my coming to the meeting [of july , on technical education.] would really have been of use. i hope you will say how grieved i am to be absent. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, june , . my dear roscoe, i have scrawled a variety of comments on the paper you sent me. deal with them as you think fit. ever since i was on the london school board i have seen that the key of the position is in the sectarian training colleges and that wretched imposture, the pupil teacher system. as to the former delendae sunt no truce or pact to be made with them, either church or dissenting. half the time of their students is occupied with grinding into their minds their tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee theological idiocies, and the other half in cramming them with boluses of other things to be duly spat out on examination day. whatever is done do not let us be deluded by any promises of theirs to hook on science or technical teaching to their present work. i am greatly disgusted that i cannot come to tyndall's dinner to-night--but my brother-in-law's death would have stopped me (the funeral to-day)--even if my doctor had not forbidden me to leave my bed. he says i have some pleuritic effusion on one side and must mind my p's and q's. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a good deal of correspondence at this time with sir m. foster relates to the examinations of the science and art department. he was still dean, it will be remembered, of the royal college of science, and further kept up his connection with the department by acting in an honorary capacity as examiner, setting questions, but less and less looking over papers, acting as the channel for official communications, as when he writes (april ),] "i send you some department documents--nothing alarming, only more worry for the assistant examiners, and that we do not mind"; and finally signing the report. but to do this after taking so small a share in the actual work of examining, grew more and more repugnant to him, till on october he writes:--] i will read the report and sign it if need be--though there really must be some fresh arrangement. of course i have entire confidence in your judgment about the examination, but i have a mortal horror of putting my name to things i do not know of my own knowledge. [in addition to these occupations, he wrote a short paper upon a fossil, ceratochelys, which was read at the royal society on march ; while on april he read at the linnean ("botany" volume pages - ), his paper, "the gentians: notes and queries," which had sprung from his holiday amusement at arolla. philosophy, however, claimed most of his energies. the campaign begun in answer to the incursion of mr. lilly was continued in the article "science and pseudo-scientific realism" ("collected essays" - ) which appeared in the "nineteenth century" for february . the text for this discourse was the report of a sermon by canon liddon, in which that eminent preacher spoke of catastrophes as the antithesis of physical law, yet possible inasmuch as a "lower law" may be "suspended" by the "intervention of a higher," a mode of reasoning which he applied to the possibility of miracles such as that of cana. the man of science was up in arms against this incarnation of abstract terms, and offered a solemn protest against that modern recrudescence of ancient realism which speaks of "laws of nature" as though they were independent entities, agents, and efficient causes of that which happens, instead of simply our name for observed successions of facts. carefully as all personalities had been avoided in this article, it called forth a lively reply from the duke of argyll, rebuking him for venturing to criticise the preacher, whose name was now brought forward for the first time, and raising a number of other questions, philosophical, geological, and biological, to which huxley rejoined with some selections from the authentic history of these points in "science and pseudo-science" ("nineteenth century" april , "collected essays" - ). moreover, judging from the vivacity of the duke's reply that some of the shafts of the first article must have struck nearer home than the pulpit of st. paul's, he was induced to read "the reign of law," the second chapter of which, dealing with the nature of "law," he now criticised sharply as] "a sort of 'summa' of pseudo-scientific philosophy," [with its confusions of law and necessity, law and force,] "law in the sense, not merely of a rule, but of a cause." [(cf. his treatment of the subject years before, volume .) he wound up with some banter upon the duke's picture of a scientific reign of terror, whereby, it seemed, all men of science were compelled to accept the darwinian faith, and against which huxley himself was preparing to rebel, as if:--] forsooth, i am supposed to be waiting for the signal of "revolt," which some fiery spirits among these young men are to raise before i dare express my real opinions concerning questions about which we older men had to fight in the teeth of fierce public opposition and obloquy--of something which might almost justify even the grandiloquent epithet of a reign of terror--before our excellent successors had left school. [here for a while the debate ceased. but in the september number of the "nineteenth century" the duke of argyll returned to the fray with an article called "a great lesson," in which he attempted to offer evidence in support of his assertions concerning the scientific reign of terror. the two chief pieces of evidence adduced were bathybius and dr. (now sir j.) murray's theory of coral reefs. the former was instanced as a blunder due to the desire of finding support for the darwinian theory in the existence of this widespread primordial life; the latter as a case in which a new theory had been systematically burked, for fear of damaging the infallibility of darwin, who had propounded a different theory of coral reefs! huxley's reply to this was contained in the latter half of an article which appeared in the "nineteenth century" for november , under the title of "science and the bishops" (reprinted both in "controverted questions" and in the "collected essays" , as "an episcopal trilogy"). preaching at manchester this autumn, during the meeting of the british association, the bishops of carlisle, bedford, and manchester had spoken of science not only with knowledge, but in the spirit of equity and generosity.] "these sermons," [he exclaims,] "are what the germans call epochemachend!" how often was it my fate [he continues], a quarter of a century ago, to see the whole artillery of the pulpit brought to bear upon the doctrine of evolution and its supporters! any one unaccustomed to the amenities of ecclesiastical controversy would have thought we were too wicked to be permitted to live. [after thus welcoming these episcopal advances, he once more repudiated the a priori argument against the efficacy of prayer, the theme of one of the three sermons, and then proceeded to discuss another sermon of a dignitary of the church, which had been sent to him by an unknown correspondent, for] "there seems to be an impression abroad--i do not desire to give any countenance to it--that i am fond of reading sermons." [now this preacher was of a very different mind from the three bishops. instead of dwelling upon the "supreme importance of the purely spiritual in our faith," he warned his hearers against dropping off any of the miraculous integument of their religion. "christianity is essentially miraculous, and falls to the ground if miracles be impossible." he was uncompromisingly opposed to any accommodation with advancing knowledge, or with the high standard of veracity, enforced by the nature of their pursuits, in which huxley found the only difference between scientific men and any other class of the community. but it was not merely this misrepresentation of science on its speculative side which huxley deplored; he was roused to indignation by an attack on its morality. the preacher reiterated the charge brought forward in the "great lesson," that dr. murray's theory of coral reefs had been actually suppressed for two years, and that by the advice of those who accepted it, for fear of upsetting the infallibility of the great master. hereupon he turned in downright earnest upon the originator of the assertion, who, he considered, had no more than the amateur's knowledge of the subject. a plain statement of the facts was refutation enough. the new theories, he pointed out, had been widely discussed; they had been adopted by some geologists, although darwin himself had not been converted, and after careful and prolonged re-examination of the question, professor dana, the greatest living authority on coral reefs, had rejected them. as professor judd said, "if this be a 'conspiracy of silence,' where, alas! can the geological speculator seek for fame?" any warning not to publish in haste was but advice to a still unknown man not to attack a seemingly well-established theory without making sure of his ground. (letter in "nature.") as for the bathybius myth, huxley pointed out that his announcement of the discovery had been simply a statement of the actual facts, and that so far from seeing in it a confirmation of darwinian hypotheses, he was careful to warn his readers] "to keep the questions of fact and the questions of interpretation well apart." "that which interested me in the matter," he says, "was the apparent analogy of bathybius with other well-known forms of lower life,"..."if bathybius were brought up alive from the bottom of the atlantic to-morrow, the fact would not have the slightest bearing, that i can discern, upon mr. darwin's speculations, or upon any of the disputed problems of biology." [and as for his] "eating the leek" [afterwards, his ironical account of it is an instance of how the adoption of a plain, straightforward course can be described without egotism.] the most considerable difference i note among men [he concludes] is not in their readiness to fall into error, but in their readiness to acknowledge these inevitable lapses. [as the duke in a subsequent article did not unequivocally withdraw his statements, huxley declined to continue public controversy with him. three years later, writing (october , ) to sir j. donnelly apropos of an article by mr. mallock in the "nineteenth century," which made use of the "bathybius myth," he says:--] bathybius is far too convenient a stick to beat this dog with to be ever given up, however many lies may be needful to make the weapon effectual. i told the whole story in my reply to the duke of argyll, but of course the pack give tongue just as loudly as ever. clerically-minded people cannot be accurate, even the liberals. [i give here the letter sent to the "unknown correspondent" in question, who had called his attention to the fourth of these sermons.] marlborough place, september , . i have but just returned to england after two months' absence, and in the course of clearing off a vast accumulation of letters, i have come upon yours. the duke of argyll has been making capital out of the same circumstances as those referred to by the bishop. i believe that the interpretation put upon the facts by both is wholly misleading and erroneous. it is quite preposterous to suppose that the men of science of this or any other country have the slightest disposition to support any view which may have been enunciated by one of their colleagues, however distinguished, if good grounds are shown for believing it to be erroneous. when mr. murray arrived at his conclusions i have no doubt he was advised to make his ground sure before he attacked a generalisation which appeared so well founded as that of mr. darwin respecting coral reefs. if he had consulted me i should have given him that advice myself, for his own sake. and whoever advised him, in that sense, in my opinion did wisely. but the theologians cannot get it out of their heads, that as they have creeds, to which they must stick at all hazards, so have the men of science. there is no more ridiculous delusion. we, at any rate, hold ourselves morally bound to "try all things and hold fast to that which is good"; and among public benefactors, we reckon him who explodes old error, as next in rank to him who discovers new truth. you are at liberty to make any use you please of this letter. [two letters on kindred subjects may appropriately follow in this place. thanking m. henri gadeau de kerville for his "causeries sur le transformisme," he writes (february ):--] dear sir, accept my best thanks for your interesting "causeries," which seem to me to give a very clear view of the present state of the evolution doctrine as applied to biology. there is a statement on page "apres sa mort lamarck fut completement oublie," which may be true for france but certainly is not so for england. from onwards for more than forty years lyell's "principles of geology" was one of the most widely read scientific books in this country, and it contains an elaborate criticism of lamarck's views. moreover, they were largely debated during the controversies which arose out of the publication of the "vestiges of creation" in or thereabouts. we are certainly not guilty of any neglect of lamarck on this side of the channel. if i may make another criticism it is that, to my mind, atheism is, on purely philosophical grounds, untenable. that there is no evidence of the existence of such a being as the god of the theologians is true enough; but strictly scientific reasoning can take us no further. where we know nothing we can neither affirm nor deny with propriety. [the other is in answer to the bishop of ripon, enclosing a few lines on the principal representatives of modern science, which he had asked for.] marlborough place, june , . my dear bishop of ripon, i shall be very glad if i can be of any use to you now and always. but it is not an easy task to put into half-a-dozen sentences, up to the level of your vigorous english, a statement that shall be unassailable from the point of view of a scientific fault-finder--which shall be intelligible to the general public and yet accurate. i have made several attempts and enclose the final result. i think the substance is all right, and though the form might certainly be improved, i leave that to you. when i get to a certain point of tinkering my phrases i have to put them aside for a day or two. will you allow me to suggest that it might be better not to name any living man? the temple of modern science has been the work of many labourers not only in our own but in other countries. some have been more busy in shaping and laying the stones, some in keeping off the sanballats, some prophetwise in indicating the course of the science of the future. it would be hard to say who has done best service. as regards dr. joule, for example, no doubt he did more than any one to give the doctrine of the conservation of energy precise expression, but mayer and others run him hard. of deceased englishmen who belong to the first half of the victorian epoch, i should say that faraday, lyell, and darwin had exerted the greatest influence, and all three were models of the highest and best class of physical philosophers. as for me, in part from force of circumstance and in part from a conviction i could be of most use in that way, i have played the part of something between maid-of-all-work and gladiator-general for science, and deserve no such prominence as your kindness has assigned to me. with our united kind regards to mrs. carpenter and yourself, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a brief note, also, to lady welby, dated july , is characteristic of his attitude towards unverified speculation.] i have looked through the paper you have sent me, but i cannot undertake to give any judgment upon it. speculations such as you deal with are quite out of my way. i get lost the moment i lose touch of valid fact and incontrovertible demonstration and find myself wandering among large propositions, which may be quite true but which would involve me in months of work if i were to set myself seriously to find out whether, and in what sense, they are true. moreover, at present, what little energy i possess is mortgaged to quite other occupations. [the following letter was in answer to a request which i was commissioned to forward him, that he would consent to serve on an honorary committee of the societe des professeurs de francais en angleterre.] january , . i quite forgot to say anything about the comite d'honneur, and as you justly remark in the present strained state of foreign politics the consequences may be serious. please tell your colleague that i shall be "proud an' 'appy." you need not tell him that my pride and happiness are contingent on having nothing to do for the honour. [in the meantime, the ups and downs of his health are reflected in various letters of these six months. much set up by his stay in the isle of wight, he writes from shanklin on april to sir e. frankland, describing the last meeting of the x club, which the latter had not been able to attend, as he was staying in the riviera:--] hooker, tyndall, and i alone turned up last thursday. lubbock had gone to high elms about used up by the house of commons, and there was no sign of hirst. tyndall seemed quite himself again. in fact, we three old fogies voted unanimously that we were ready to pit ourselves against any three youngsters of the present generation in walking, climbing, or head-work, and give them odds. i hope you are in the same comfortable frame of mind. i had no notion that mentone had suffered so seriously in the earthquake of . moral for architects: read your bible and build your house upon the rock. the sky and sea here may be fairly matched against mentone or any other of your mediterranean places. also the east wind, which has been blowing steadily for ten days, and is nearly as keen as the tramontana. only in consequence of the long cold and drought not a leaf is out. [shanklin, indeed, suited him so well that he had half a mind to settle there.] "there are plenty of sites for building," [he writes home in february,] "but i have not thought of commencing a house yet." [however, he gave up the idea; shanklin was too far from town. but though he was well enough as long as he kept out of london, a return to his life there was not possible for any considerable time. on may , just before a visit to mr. f. darwin at cambridge, i find that he went down to st. albans for a couple of days, to walk; and on the th he betook himself, terribly ill and broken down, to the savernake forest hotel, in hopes of getting] "screwed up." [this] "turned out a capital speculation, a charming spick-and-span little country hostelry with great trees in front." [but the weather was persistently bad,] "the screws got looser rather than tighter," [and again he was compelled to stay away from the x. a week later, however, he writes:--] the weather has been detestable, and i got no good till yesterday, which was happily fine. ditto to-day, so i am picking up, and shall return to-morrow, as, like an idiot as i am, i promised to take the chair at a public meeting about a free library for marylebone on tuesday evening. i wonder if you know this country. i find it charming. [on the same day as that which was fixed for the meeting in favour of the free library, he had a very interesting interview with the premier, of which he left the following notes, written at the athenaeum immediately after:--] june , . called on lord salisbury by appointment at p.m., and had twenty minutes' talk with him about the "matter of some public interest" mentioned in his letter of the [ th]. this turned out to be a proposal for the formal recognition of distinguished services in science, letters, and art by the institution of some sort of order analogous to the pour le merite. lord salisbury spoke of the anomalous present mode of distributing honours, intimated that the queen desired to establish a better system, and asked my opinion. i said that i should like to separate my personal opinion from that which i believed to obtain among the majority of scientific men; that i thought many of the latter were much discontented with the present state of affairs, and would highly approve of such a proposal as lord salisbury shadowed forth. that, so far as my own personal feeling was concerned, it was opposed to anything of the kind for science. i said that in science we had two advantages--first, that a man's work is demonstrably either good or bad; and secondly, that the "contemporary posterity" of foreigners judges us, and rewards good work by membership of academies and so forth. in art, if a man chooses to call raphael a dauber, you can't prove he is wrong; and literary work is just as hard to judge. i then spoke of the dangers to which science is exposed by the undue prominence and weight of men who successfully apply scientific knowledge to practical purposes--engineers, chemical inventors, etc., etc.; said it appeared to me that a minister having such order at his disposal would find it very difficult to resist the pressure brought by such people as against the man of high science who had not happened to have done anything to strike the popular mind. discussed the possibility of submission of names by somebody for the approval and choice of the crown. for science, i thought the royal society council might discharge that duty very fairly. i thought that the academy of berlin presented people for the pour le merite, but lord salisbury thought not. in the course of conversation i spoke of hooker's case as a glaring example of the wrong way of treating distinguished men. observed that though i did not personally care for or desire the institution of such honorary order, yet i thought it was a mistake in policy for the crown as the fountain of honour to fail in recognition of that which deserves honour in the world of science, letters, and art. lord salisbury smilingly summed up. "well, it seems that you don't desire the establishment of such an order, but that if you were in my place you would establish it," to which i assented. said he had spoken to leighton, who thought well of the project. [it was not long, however, before he received imperative notice to quit town with all celerity. he fell ill with what turned out to be pleurisy; and after recruiting at ilkley, went again to switzerland.] marlborough place, june , . my dear foster, ...i am very sorry that it will be impossible for me to attend [the meeting of committee down for the following wednesday]. if i am well enough to leave the house i must go into the country that day to attend the funeral of my wife's brother-in-law and my very old friend fanning, of whom i may have spoken to you. he has been slowly sinking for some time, and this morning we had news of his death. things have been very crooked for me lately. i had a conglomerate of engagements of various degrees of importance in the latter half of last week, and had to forgo them all, by reason of a devil in the shape of muscular rheumatism of one side, which entered me last wednesday, and refuses to be wholly exorcised (i believe it is my jubilee honour). [(on the same day he describes this to sir j. evans:--] "i have hardly been out of the house as far as my garden, and not much off my bed or sofa since i saw you last. i have had an affection of the muscles of one side of my body, the proper name of which i do not know, but the similitude thereof is a bird of prey periodically digging in his claws and stopping your breath in a playful way.") along with it, and i suppose the cause of it, a regular liver upset. i am very seedy yet, and even if fanning's death had not occurred i doubt if i should have been ready to face the tyndall dinner. [the reference to this "tyndall dinner" is explained in the following letters, which also refer to a meeting of the london university, in which the projects of reform which he himself supported met with a smart rebuff.] marlborough place, may , . my dear tyndall, i am very sorry to hear of your gout, but they say when it comes out at the toes it flies from the better parts, and that is to the good. there is no sort of reason why unsatisfied curiosity should continue to disturb your domestic hearth; your wife will have the gout too if it goes on. "they" can't bear the strain. the history of the whole business is this. a day or two before i spoke to you, lockyer told me that various people had been talking about the propriety of recognising your life-long work in some way or other; that, as you would not have anything else, a dinner had been suggested, and finally asked me to inquire whether you would accept that expression of goodwill. of course i said i would, and i asked accordingly. after you had assented i spoke to several of our friends who were at the athenaeum, and wrote to lockyer. i believe a strong committee is forming, and that we shall have a scientific jubilation on a large scale; but i have purposely kept in the background, and confined myself, like bismarck, to the business of "honest broker." but of course nothing (beyond preliminaries) can be done till you name the day, and at this time of year it is needful to look well ahead if a big room is to be secured. so if you can possibly settle that point, pray do. there seems to have been some oversight on my wife's part about the invitation, but she is stating her own case. we go on a visit to mrs. darwin to cambridge on saturday week, and the saturday after that i am bound to be at eton. moreover, i have sacrificed to the public moloch so far as to promise to take the chair at a public meeting in favour of a free library for marylebone on the th. as wednesday's work at the geological society and the soiree knocked me up all yesterday, i shall be about finished i expect on the th. if you are going to be at hindhead after that, and would have us for a day, it would be jolly; but i cannot be away long, as i have some work to finish before i go abroad. i never was so uncomfortable in my life, i think, as on wednesday when l-- was speaking, just in front of me, at the university. of course i was in entire sympathy with the tenor of his speech, but i was no less certain of the impolicy of giving a chance to such a master of polished putting-down as the chancellor. you know mrs. carlyle said that owen's sweetness reminded her of sugar of lead. granville's was that plus butter of antimony! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. n.b.--don't swear, but get mrs. tyndall, who is patient and good-tempered, to read this long screed. may , . my dear tyndall, i was very glad to get your letter yesterday morning, and i conveyed your alteration at once to rucker, who is acting as secretary. i asked him to communicate with you directly to save time. i hear that the proposal has been received very warmly by all sorts and conditions of men, and that is quite apart from any action of your closer personal friends. personally i am rather of your mind about the "dozen or score" of the faithful. but as that was by no means to the mind of those who started the project, and, moreover, might have given rise to some heartburning, i have not thought it desirable to meddle with the process of spontaneous combustion. so look out for a big bonfire somewhere in the middle of june! i have a hideous cold, and can only hope that the bracing air of cambridge, where we go on saturday, may set me right. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to recover from his pleuritic "jubilee honour" he went for a fortnight (july - ) to ilkley, which had done him so much good before, intending to proceed to switzerland as soon as he conveniently could.] ilkley, july , . my dear foster, i was very much fatigued by the journey here, but the move was good, and i am certainly mending, though not so fast as i could wish. i expect some adhesions are interfering with my bellows. as soon as i am fit to travel i am thinking of going to lugano, and thence to monte generoso. the travelling is easy to lugano, and i know the latter place. my notion is i had better for the present avoid the chances of a wet, cold week in the high places. m.b.a. [marine biological association]...as to the employment of the grant, i think it ought to be on something definite and limited. the pilchard question would be an excellent one to take up. -- seems to have a notion of employing it on some geological survey of plymouth sound, work that would take years and years to do properly, and nothing in the way of clear result to show. i hope to be in london on my way abroad in less than ten days' time, and will let you know. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [and on the same day to sir j. donnelly:--] i expect...that i shall have a slow convalescence. lucky it is no worse! much fighting i am likely to do for the unionist cause or any other! but don't take me for one of the enrages. if anybody will show me a way by which the irish may attain all they want without playing the devil with us, i am ready to give them their own talking-shop or anything else. but that is as much writing as i can sit up and do all at once. chapter . . . [on the last day of july he left england for switzerland, and did not return till the end of september. a second visit to arolla worked a great change in him. he renewed his gentian studies also, with unflagging ardour. the following letters give some idea of his doings and interests:--] hotel du mont collon, arolla, switzerland, august , . my dear foster, i know you will be glad to hear that i consider myself completely set up again. we went to the maderaner thal and stayed a week there. but i got no good out of it. it is charmingly pretty, but damp; and, moreover, the hotel was per cent too full of people, mainly deutschers, and we had to turn out into the open air after dinner because the salon and fumoir were full of beds. so, in spite of all prudential considerations, i made up my mind to come here. we travelled over the furca, and had a capital journey to evolena. thence i came on muleback (to my great disgust, but i could not walk a bit uphill) here. i began to get better at once; and in spite of a heavy snowfall and arctic weather a week ago, i have done nothing but mend. we have glorious weather now, and i can take almost as long walks as last year. we have some cambridge people here: dr. peile of christ's and his family. also nettleship of oxford. what is the myth about the darwin tree in the "pall mall"? ["a tree planted yesterday in the centre of the circular grass plot in the first court of christ's college, in darwin's honour, was 'spirited' away at night."--"pall mall gazette" august , .] dr. peile believes it to be all a flam. forel has just been paying a visit to the arolla glacier for the purpose of ascertaining the internal temperature. he told me he much desired to have a copy of the report of the krakatoa committee. if it is published, will you have a copy sent to him? he is professor at lausanne, and a very good man. our stay here will depend on the weather. at present it is perfect. i do not suppose we shall leave before th or th of september, and we shall get home by easy stages not much before the end of the month. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. madder than ever on gentians. [the following is in reply to sir e. frankland's inquiries with reference to the reported presence of fish in the reservoirs of one of the water-companies.] hotel righi vaudois, glion, september , . we left arolla about ten days ago, and after staying a day at st. maurice in consequence of my wife's indisposition, came on here where your letter just received has followed me. i am happy to say i am quite set up again, and as i can manage my or feet as well as ever, i may be pretty clear that my pleurisy has not left my lung sticking anywhere. i will take your inquiries seriatim. ( ) the faith of your small boyhood is justified. eels do wander overland, especially in the wet stormy nights they prefer for migration. but so far as i know this is the habit only of good-sized, downwardly-moving eels. i am not aware that the minute fry take to the land on their journey upwards. ( ) male eels are now well known. i have gone over the evidence myself and examined many. but the reproductive organs of both sexes remain undeveloped in fresh water--just the contrary of salmon, in which they remain undeveloped in salt water. ( ) so far as i know, no eel with fully-developed reproductive organs has yet been seen. their matrimonial operations go on in the sea where they spend their honeymoon, and we only know the result in the shape of the myriads of thread-like eel-lets, which migrate up in the well-known "eel-fare." ( ) on general principles of eel-life i think it is possible that the inspector's theory may be correct. but your story about the roach is a poser. they certainly do not take to walking abroad. it reminds me of the story of the irish milk-woman who was confronted with a stickleback found in the milk. "sure, then, it must have been bad for the poor cow when that came through her teat." surely the inspector cannot have overlooked such a crucial fact as the presence of other fish in the reservoirs? we shall be here another week, and then move slowly back to london. i am loth to leave this place, which is very beautiful with splendid air and charming walks in all directions--two or three thousand feet up if you like. hotel righi vaudois, glion, switzerland, september , . my dear donnelly, we left arolla for this place ten days ago, but my wife fell ill, and we had to stay a day at st. maurice. she has been more or less out of sorts ever since until to-day. however, i hope now she is all right again. this is a very charming place at the east end of the lake of geneva-- feet above the lake--and you can walk feet higher up if you like. what they call a "funicular railway" hauls you up a gradient of in / from the station on the shore in ten minutes. at first the sensation on looking down is queer, but you soon think nothing of it. the air is very fine, the weather lovely, the feeding unexceptionable, and the only drawback consists in the "javelins," as old francis head used to call them--stinks of such wonderful crusted flavour that they must have been many years in bottle. but this is a speciality of all furrin parts that i have ever visited. i am very well and extremely lazy so far as my head goes--legs i am willing to use to any extent up hill or down dale. they wanted me to go and speechify at keighley in the middle of october, but i could not get permission from the authorities. moreover, i really mean to keep quiet and abstain even from good words (few or many) next session. my wife joins with me in love to mrs. donnelly and yourself. she thought she had written, but doubts whether in the multitude of her letters she did not forget. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [from glion also he writes to sir m. foster:--] i have been doing some very good work on the gentians in the interests of the business of being idle. [the same subject recurs in the next letter:--] hotel righi vaudois, glion, switzerland, september , . my dear hooker, i saw in the "times" yesterday the announcement of mr. symond's death. i suppose the deliverance from so painful a malady as heart-disease is hardly to be lamented in one sense; but these increasing gaps in one's intimate circle are very saddening, and we feel for lady hooker and you. my wife has been greatly depressed in hearing of mrs. carpenter's fatal disorder. one cannot go away for a few weeks without finding some one gone on one's return. i got no good at the maderaner thal, so we migrated to our old quarters at arolla, and there i picked up in no time, and in a fortnight could walk as well as ever. so if there are any adhesions they are pretty well stretched by this time. i have been at the gentians again, and worked out the development of the flower in g. purpurea and g. campestris. the results are very pretty. they both start from a thalamifloral condition, then become corollifloral, g. purpurea at first resembling g. lutea and g. campestris, an ophelia, and then specialise to the ptychantha and stephanantha forms respectively. in g. campestris there is another very curious thing. the anthers are at first introrse, but just before the bud opens they assume this position [sketch] and then turn right over and become extrorse. in g. purpurea this does not happen, but the anthers are made to open outwards by their union on the inner side of the slits of dehiscence. there are several other curious bits of morphology have turned up, but i reserve them for our meeting. beyond pottering away at my gentians and doing a little with that extraordinary cynanchum i have been splendidly idle. after three weeks of the ascetic life of arolla, we came here to acclimatise ourselves to lower levels and to fatten up. i go straight through the table d'hote at each meal, and know not indigestion. my wife has fared not so well, but she is all right again now. we go home by easy stages, and expect to be in marlborough place on tuesday. with all our best wishes to lady hooker and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the second visit to arolla did as much good as the first. though unable to stay more than a week or two in london itself, he was greatly invigorated. his renewed strength enabled him to carry out vigorously such work as he had put his hand to, and still more, to endure one of the greatest sorrows of his whole life which was to befall him this autumn in the death of his daughter marian. the controversy which fell to his share immediately upon his return, has already been mentioned. this was all part of the war for science which he took as his necessary portion in life; but he would not plunge into any other forms of controversy, however interesting. so he writes to his son, who had conveyed him a message from the editor of a political review:--] marlborough place, october , . no political article from me! i have had to blow off my indignation incidentally now and then lest worse might befall me, but as to serious political controversy, i have other fish to fry. such influence as i possess may be most usefully employed in promoting various educational movements now afoot, and i do not want to bar myself from working with men of all political parties. so excuse me in the prettiest language at your command to mr. a. [nevertheless politics very soon drew him into a new conflict, in defence, be it said, of science against the possible contamination of political influences. professor (now sir) g.g. stokes, his successor in the chair of the royal society, accepted an invitation from the university of cambridge to stand for election as their member of parliament, and was duly elected. this was a step to which many fellows of the royal society, and huxley in especial, objected very strongly. properly to fulfil the duties of both offices at once was, in his opinion, impossible. it might seem for the moment an advantage that the accredited head of the scientific world should represent its interests officially in parliament; but the precedent was full of danger. science being essentially of no party, it was especially needful for such a representative of science to keep free from all possible entanglements; to avoid committing science, as it were, officially to the policy of a party, or, as its inevitable consequence, introducing political considerations into the choice of a future president. during his own tenure of the presidency huxley had carefully abstained from any official connection with societies are public movements on which the feeling of the royal society was divided, lest as a body it might seem committed by the person and name of its president. he thought it a mistake that his successor should even be president of the victoria institute. thus there is a good deal in his correspondence bearing on this matter. he writes on november to sir j. hooker:--] i am extremely exercised in my mind about stokes' going into parliament (as a strong party man, moreover) while still p.r.s. i do not know what you may think about it, but to my mind it is utterly wrong--and degrading to the society--by introducing politics into its affairs. [and on the same day to sir m. foster:--] i think it is extremely improper for the president of the royal society to accept a position as a party politician. as a unionist i should vote for him if i had a vote for cambridge university, but for all that i think it is most lamentable that the president of the society should be dragged into party mud. when i was president i refused to take the presidency of the sunday league, because of the division of opinion on the subject. now we are being connected with the victoria institute, and sucked into the slough of politics. [these considerations weighed heavily with several both of the older and the younger members of the society; but the majority were indifferent to the dangers of the precedent. the council could not discuss the matter; they waited in vain for an official announcement of his election from the president, while he, as it turned out, expected them to broach the subject. various proposals were discussed; but it seemed best that, as a preliminary to further action, an editorial article written by huxley should be inserted in "nature," indicating what was felt by a section of the society, and suggesting that resignation of one of the two offices was the right solution of the difficulty. finally, it seemed that perhaps, after all, a] "masterly inactivity" [was the best line of action. without risk of an authoritative decision of the society] "the wrong way," [out of personal regard for the president, the question would be solved for him by actual experience of work in the house of commons, where he would doubtless discover that he must] "renounce either science, or politics, or existence." this campaign, however, against a principle, was carried on without any personal feeling. the perfect simplicity of the president's attitude would have disarmed the hottest opponent, and indeed huxley took occasion to write him the following letter, in reference to which he writes to dr. foster:--] "i hate doing things in the dark and could not stand it any longer." december , . my dear stokes, when we met in the hall of the athenaeum on monday evening i was on the point of speaking to you on a somewhat delicate topic; namely, my responsibility for the leading article on the presidency of the royal society and politics which appeared a fortnight ago in "nature." but i was restrained by the reflection that i had no right to say anything about the matter without the consent of the editor of "nature." i have obtained that consent, and i take the earliest opportunity of availing myself of my freedom. i should have greatly preferred to sign the article, and its anonymity is due to nothing but my strong desire to avoid the introduction of any personal irrelevancies into the discussion of a very grave question of principle. i may add that as you are quite certain to vote in the way that i think right on the only political questions which greatly interest me, my action has not been, and cannot be, in any way affected by political feeling. and as there is no one of whom i have a higher opinion as a man of science--no one whom i should be more glad to serve under, and to support year after year in the chair of the society, and no one for whom i entertain feelings of more sincere friendship---i trust you will believe that, if there is a word in the article which appears inconsistent with these feelings, it is there by oversight, and is sincerely regretted. during the thirty odd years we have known one another, we have often had stout battles without loss of mutual kindness. my chief object in troubling you with this letter is to express the hope that, whatever happens, this state of things may continue. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--i am still of opinion that it is better that my authorship should not be officially recognised, but you are, of course, free to use the information i have given you in any way you may think fit. [to this the president returned a very frank and friendly reply; saying he had never dreamed of any incompatibility existing between the two offices, and urging that the presidency ought not to constrain a man to give up his ordinary duties as a citizen. he concludes:-- and now i have stated my case as it appears to myself; let me assure you that nothing that has passed tends at all to diminish my friendship towards you. my wife heard last night that the article was yours, and told me so. i rather thought it must have been written by some hot gladstonian. it seems, however, that her informant was right. she wishes me to tell you that she replied to her informant that she felt quite sure that if you wrote it, it was because you thought it. to which huxley replied:--] i am much obliged for your letter, which is just such as i felt sure you would write. pray thank mrs. stokes for her kind message. i am very grateful for her confidence in my uprightness of intention. we must agree to differ. it may be needful for me and those who agree with me to place our opinions on record; but you may depend upon it that nothing will be done which can suggest any lack of friendship or respect for our president. [it will be seen from this correspondence and the letter to sir j. donnelly of july , that huxley was a staunch unionist. not that he considered the actual course of english rule in ireland ideal; his main point was that under the circumstances the establishment of home rule was a distinct betrayal of trust, considering that on the strength of government promises, an immense number of persons had entered into contracts, had bought land, and staked their fortunes in ireland, who would be ruined by the establishment of home rule. moreover, he held that the right of self-preservation entitled a nation to refuse to establish at its very gates a power which could, and perhaps would, be a danger to its own existence. of the capacity of the irish peasant for self-government he had no high opinion, and what he had seen of the country, and especially the great central plain, in his frequent visits to ireland, convinced him that the balance between subsistence and population would speedily create a new agrarian question, whatever political schemes were introduced. this was one of] "the only political questions which interested him." [towards the end of october he left london for hastings, partly for his own, but still more for his wife's sake, as she was far from well. he was still busy with one or two royal society committees, and came up to town occasionally to attend their meetings, especially those dealing with the borings in the delta, and with antarctic exploration. thus he writes:--] eversfield place, hastings, october , . my dear foster, we have been here for the last week, and are likely to be here for some time, as my wife, though mending, is getting on but slowly, and she will be as well out of london through beastly november. i shall be up on thursday and return on friday, but i do not want to be away longer, as it is lonesome for the wife. i quite agree to what you propose on committee, so i need not be there. very glad to hear that the council "very much applauded what we had done," and hope we shall get the pounds. i don't believe a word in increasing whale fishery, but scientifically, the antarctic expedition would, or might be very interesting, and if the colonies will do their part, i think we ought to do ours. you won't want me at that committee either. hope to see you on thursday. ever yours, t.h. huxley. hideous pen! [but he did not come up that thursday. his wife was for a time too ill to be left, and he winds up the letter of november to dr. foster with the reflection:--] man is born to trouble as the sparks, etc.--but when you have come to my time of life you will say as i do--lucky it is no worse. november . i am very glad to hear that the pounds is granted, and i will see to what is next to be done as soon as i can. also i am very glad to find you don't want my valuable service on council royal society. i repented me of my offer when i thought how little i might be able to attend. [one thing, however, afforded him great pleasure at this time. he writes on november to his old friend, sir j. hooker:--] i write just to say what infinite satisfaction the award of the copley medal to you has given me. if you were not my dear old friend, it would rejoice me as a mere matter of justice--of which there is none too much in this "-- rum world," as whitworth's friend called it. [to the reply that the award was not according to rule, inasmuch as it was the turn for the medal to be awarded in another branch of science, he rejoins:--] i had forgotten all about the business--but he had done nothing to deserve the copley, and all i can say is that if the present award is contrary to law, the "law's a hass" as mr. bumble said. but i don't believe that it is. [he replies also on november to a clerical correspondent who had written to him on the distinction between sheretz and rehmes, and accused him of "wilful blindness" in his theological controversy of :--] let me assure you that it is not my way to set my face against being convinced by evidence. i really cannot hold myself to be responsible for the translators of the revised version of the old testament. if i had given a translation of the passage to which you refer on my own authority, any mistake would be mine, and i should be bound to acknowledge it. as i did not, i have nothing to admit. i have every respect for your and mr. --'s authority as hebraists, but i have noticed that hebrew scholars are apt to hold very divergent views, and before admitting either your or mr. --'s interpretation, i should like to see the question fully discussed. if, when the discussion is concluded, the balance of authority is against the revised version, i will carefully consider how far the needful alterations may affect the substance of the one passage in my reply to mr. gladstone which is affected by it. at present i am by no means clear that it will make much difference, and in no case will the main lines of my argument as to the antagonism between modern science and the pentateuch be affected. the statements i have made are public property. if you think they are in any way erroneous i must ask you to take upon yourself the same amount of responsibility as i have done, and submit your objections to the same ordeal. there is nothing like this test for reducing things to their true proportions, and if you try it, you will probably discover, not without some discomfort, that you really had no reason to ascribe wilful blindness to those who do not agree with you. [he was now preparing to complete his campaign of the spring on technical education by delivering an address to the technical education association at manchester on november , and looked forward to attending the anniversary meeting of the royal society on his way home next day, and seeing the copley medal conferred upon his old friend, sir j. hooker. however, unexpected trouble befell him. first he was much alarmed about his wife, who had been ill more or less ever since leaving arolla. happily it turned out that there was nothing worse than could be set right by a slight operation. but nothing had been done when news came of the sudden death of his second daughter on november .] "i have no heart for anything just now," [he writes; nevertheless, he forced himself to fulfil this important engagement at manchester, and in the end the necessity of bracing himself for the undertaking acted on him as a tonic. it is a trifle, perhaps, but a trifle significant of the disturbance of mind that could override so firmly fixed a habit, that the two first letters he wrote after receiving the news are undated; almost the only omission of the sort i have found in all his letters of the last twenty-five years of his life. his daughter's long illness had left him without hope for months past, but this, as he confessed, did not mend matters much. in his letters to his two most intimate friends, he recalls her brilliant promise, her happy marriage, her] "faculty for art, which some of the best artists have told me amounted to genius." [but he was naturally reticent in these matters, and would hardly write of his own griefs unbidden even to old friends.] marina, st. leonards, november , . my dear spencer, you will not have forgotten my bright girl marian, who married so happily and with such bright prospects half a dozen years ago? well, she died three days ago of a sudden attack of pneumonia, which carried her off almost without warning. and i cannot convey to you a sense of the terrible sufferings of the last three years better than by saying that i, her father, who loved her well, am glad that the end has come thus... my poor wife is well nigh crushed by the blow. for though i had lost hope, it was not in the nature of things that she should. don't answer this--i have half a mind to tear it up--for when one is in a pool of trouble there is no sort of good in splashing other people. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [as for his plans, he writes to sir j. hooker on november :--] i had set my heart on seeing you get the copley on the th. in fact, i made the manchester people, to whom i had made a promise to go down and address the technical education association, change their day to the th for that reason. i cannot leave them in the lurch after stirring up the business in the way i have done, and i must go and give my address. but i must get back to my poor wife as fast as i can, and i cannot face any more publicity than that which it would be cowardly to shirk just now. so i shall not be at the society except in the spirit. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [and again to sir m. foster:--] you cannot be more sorry than i am that i am going to manchester, but i am not proud of chalking up "no popery" and running away--for all evans' and your chaff--and, having done a good deal to stir up the technical education business and the formation of the association, i cannot leave them in the lurch when they urgently ask for my services... the delta business must wait till after the th. i have no heart for anything just now. [the letters following were written in answer to letters of sympathy.] marina, st. leonards, november , . my dear mr. clodd, let me thank you on my wife's behalf and my own for your very kind and sympathetic letter. my poor child's death is the end of more than three years of suffering on her part, and deep anxiety on ours. i suppose we ought to rejoice that the end has come, on the whole, so mercifully. but i find that even i, who knew better, hoped against hope, and my poor wife, who was unfortunately already very ill, is quite heart-broken. otherwise, she would have replied herself to your very kind letter. she has never yet learned the art of sparing herself, and i find it hard work to teach her. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [in the same strain he writes to dr. dyster:--] rationally we must admit that it is best so. but then, whatever linnaeus may say, man is not a rational animal--especially in his parental capacity. , marina, st. leonards, november , . my dear knowles, i really must thank you very heartily for your letter. it went to our hearts and did us good, and i know you will like to learn that you have helped us in this grievous time. my wife is better, but fit for very little; and i do not let her write a letter even, if i can help it. but it is a great deal harder to keep her from doing what she thinks her duty than to get most other people to do what plainly is their duty. with our kindest love and thanks to all of you. ever, my dear knowles, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. yes, you are quite right about "loyal." i love my friends and hate my enemies, which may not be in accordance with the gospel, but i have found it a good wearing creed for honest men. [the "address on behalf of the national association for the promotion of technical education," first published in the ensuing number of "science and art," and reprinted in "collected essays," - , was duly delivered in manchester, and produced a considerable effect. he writes to sir m. foster, december :--] i am glad i resisted the strong temptation to shirk the business. manchester has gone solid for technical education, and if the idiotic london papers, instead of giving half a dozen lines of my speech, had mentioned the solid contributions to the work announced at the meeting, they would have enabled you to understand its importance. ...i have the satisfaction of having got through a hard bit of work, and am none the worse physically--rather the better for having to pull myself together. [and to sir j. hooker:--] marina, st. leonards, december , . my dear hooker, x = , . . i meant to have written to ask you all to put off the x till next thursday, when i could attend, but i have been so bedevilled i forgot it. i shall ask for a bill of indemnity. i was rather used up yesterday, but am picking up. in fact my manchester journey convinced me that there was more stuff left than i thought for. i travelled miles, and made a speech of fifty minutes in a hot, crowded room, all in about twelve hours, and was none the worse. manchester, liverpool, and newcastle have now gone in for technical education on a grand scale, and the work is practically done. nunc dimittis! i hear great things of your speech at the dinner. i wish i could have been there to hear it... [of the two following letters, one refers to the account of sir j.d. hooker's work in connection with the award of the copley medal; the other, to hooker himself, touches a botanical problem in which huxley was interested.] st. leonards, november , . my dear foster, ...i forget whether in the notice of hooker's work you showed me there was any allusion made to that remarkable account of the diatoms in antarctic ice, to which i once drew special attention, but heaven knows where? dyer perhaps may recollect all about the account in the "flora antarctica," if i mistake not. i have always looked upon hooker's insight into the importance of these things and their skeletons as a remarkable piece of inquiry--anticipative of subsequent deep sea work. best thanks for taking so much trouble about h--. pray tell him if ever you write that i have not answered his letter only because i awaited your reply. he may think my silence uncivil... ever yours, t.h. huxley. to sir j.d. hooker. marlborough place, december , . where is the fullest information about distribution of coniferae? of course i have looked at "genera plantarum" and de candolle. i have been trying to make out whether structure or climate or paleontology throw any light on their distribution--and am drawing complete blank. why the deuce are there no conifers but podocarpus and widringtonias in all africa south of the sahara? and why the double deuce are about three-quarters of the genera huddled together in japan and northern china? i am puzzling over this group because the paleontological record is comparatively so good. i am beginning to suspect that present distribution is an affair rather of denudation than migration. sequoia! taxodium! widringtonia! araucaria! all in europe, in mesozoic and tertiary. [the following letters to mr. herbert spencer were written as sets of proofs of his autobiography arrived. that to sir j. skelton was to thank him for his book on "maitland of lethington," the scotch statesman of the time of queen mary.] january , . [the first part of this letter is given above.] my dear spencer, i see that your proofs have been in my hands longer than i thought for. but you may have seen that i have been "starring" at the mansion house... i am immensely tickled with your review of your own book. that is something most originally spencerian. i have hardly any suggestions to make, except in what you say about the "rattlesnake" work and my position on board. her proper business was the survey of the so-called "inner passage" between the barrier reef and the east coast of australia; the new guinea work was a hors d'oeuvre, and dealt with only a small part of the southern coast. macgillivray was naturalist--i was actually assistant-surgeon and nothing else. but i was recommended to stanley by sir john richardson, my senior officer at haslar, on account of my scientific proclivities. but scientific work was no part of my duty. how odd it is to look back through the vista of years! reading your account of me, i had the sensation of studying a fly in amber. i had utterly forgotten the particular circumstance that brought us together. considering what wilful tykes we both are (you particularly), i think it is a great credit to both of us that we are firmer friends now than we were then. your kindly words have given me much pleasure. this is a deuce of a long letter to inflict upon you, but there is more coming. the other day a miss --, a very good, busy woman of whom i and my wife have known a little for some years, sent me a proposal of the committee of a body calling itself the london liberty league (i think) that i should accept the position of one of three honorary something or others, you and mrs. fawcett being the other two. now you may be sure that i should be glad enough to be associated with you in anything; but considering the innumerable battles we have fought over education, vaccination, and so on, it seemed to me that if the programme of the league were wide enough to take us both for figure-heads, it must be so elastic as to verge upon infinite extensibility; and that one or other of us would be in a false position. so i wrote to miss -- to that effect, and the matter then dropped. misrepresentation is so rife in this world that it struck me i had better tell you exactly what happened. on the whole, your account of your own condition is encouraging; not going back is next door to going forward. anyhow, you have contrived to do a lot of writing. we are all pretty flourishing, and if my wife does not get worn out with cooks falling ill and other domestic worries, i shall be content. now this really is the end. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, london, n.w., march , . my dear skelton [this letter is one of the twelve from t.h.h. already published by sir john skelton in his "table talk of shirley" page sq.], wretch that i am, i see that i have never had the grace to thank you for "maitland of lethington" which reached me i do not choose to remember how long ago, and which i read straight off with lively satisfaction. there is a paragraph in your preface, which i meant to have charged you with having plagiarised from an article of mine, which had not appeared when i got your book. in that hermitage of yours, you are up to any esotericobuddhistotelepathic dodge! it is about the value of practical discipline to historians. half of them know nothing of life, and still less of government and the ways of men. i am quite useless, but have vitality enough to kick and scratch a little when prodded. i am at present engaged on a series of experiments on the thickness of skin of that wonderful little wind-bag --. the way that second rate amateur poses as a man of science, having authority as a sort of papistical scotch dominie, bred a minister, but stickit, really "rouses my corruption." what a good phrase that is. i am cursed with a lot of it, and any fool can strike ile. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. please remember me very kindly to mrs. skelton. eversfield place, hastings, november , . my dear spencer, i was very glad to get your letter this morning. i heard all about you from hirst before i left london, now nearly a month ago, and i promised myself that instead of bothering you with a letter i would run over from here and pay you a visit. unfortunately, my wife, who had been ill more or less ever since we left arolla and came here on clark's advice, had an attack one night, which frightened me a good deal, though it luckily turned out to arise from easily remediable causes. under these circumstances you will understand how i have not made my proposed journey to brighton. i am rejoiced to hear of your move. i believe in the skill of dr. b. potter and her understanding of the case more than i do in all the doctors and yourself put together. please offer my respectful homage to that eminent practitioner. you see people won't let me alone, and i have had to tell the duke to "keep on board his own ship," as the quaker said, once more. i seek peace, but do not ensue it. send any quantity of proofs, they are a good sign. by the way, we move to marina, st. leonards, to-morrow. wife sends her kind regards. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marina, st. leonards, december . my dear spencer, i have nothing to criticise in the enclosed except that the itineraries seem to me rather superfluous. i am glad to find that you forget things that have happened to you as completely as i do. i should cut almost as bad a figure as "sir roger" if i were cross-examined about my past life. your allusion to sending me the proofs made me laugh by reminding me of a particularly insolent criticism with which i once favoured you: "no objection except to the whole." it was some piece of diabolical dialectics, in which i could pick no hole, if the premises were granted--and even then could be questioned only by an ultra-sceptic! do you see that the american association of authors has adopted a resolution, which is a complete endorsement of my view of the stamp-swindle? we have got our operation over, and my wife is going on very well. overmuch anxiety has been telling on me, but i shall throw it off. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [huxley had returned to town before christmas, for the house in st. john's wood was still the rallying-point for the family, although his elder children were now married and dispersed. but he did not stay long.] "wife wonderfully better," [he writes to sir m. foster on january ,] "self as melancholy as a pelican in the wilderness." [he meant to have left london on the th, but his depressed condition proved to be the beginning of a second attack of pleurisy, and he was unable to start for bournemouth till the th. here, however, his recovery was very slow. he was unable to come up to the first meeting of the x club.] "i trust," [he writes,] "i shall be able to be at the next x--but i am getting on very slowly. i can't walk above a couple of miles without being exhausted, and talking for twenty minutes has the same effect. i suppose it is all anno domini." [but he had a pleasant visit from one of the x, and writes:--] casalini, west cliff, bournemouth, january , . my dear hooker, spencer was here an hour ago as lively as a cricket. he is going back to town on tuesday to plunge into the dissipations of the metropolis. i expect he will insist on you all going to evans' (or whatever represents that place to our descendants) after the x. bellows very creaky--took me six weeks to get them mended last time, so i suppose i may expect as long now. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [as appears from the letters which follow, he had been busied with writing an article for the "nineteenth century," for february, on the "struggle for existence" ("collected essays" .), which on the one hand ran counter to some of mr. herbert spencer's theories of society; and on the other, is noticeable as briefly enunciating the main thesis of his "romanes lecture" of .] marina, st. leonards, december , . my dear knowles, i have to go to town to-morrow for a day, so that puts an end to the possibility of getting my screed ready for january. altogether it will be better to let it stand over. i do not know whence the copyright extract came, except that, as putnam's name was on the envelope, i suppose they sent it. pearsall smith's practice is a wonderful commentary on his theory. distribute the contents of the baker's shop gratis--it will give people a taste for bread! great is humbug, and it will prevail, unless the people who do not like it hit hard. the beast has no brains, but you can knock the heart out of him. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, january , . my dear donnelly, here is my proof. will you mind running your eye over it? the article is long, and partly for that reason and partly because the general public wants principles rather than details, i have condensed the practical half. h. spencer and "jus" will be in a white rage with me. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to professor frankland, february :--] i am glad you like my article. there is no doubt it is rather like a tadpole, with a very big head and a rather thin tail. but the subject is a ticklish one to deal with, and i deliberately left a good deal suggested rather than expressed. casalini, west cliff, bournemouth, february , . my dear donnelly, no! i don't think softening has begun yet--vide "nature" this week. ["nature" for february , : review of his article in the "nineteenth century" on the "industrial struggle for existence."] i am glad you found the article worth a second go. i took a vast of trouble (as the country folks say) about it. i am afraid it has made spencer very angry--but he knows i think he has been doing mischief this long time. bellows to mend! bellows to mend! i am getting very tired of it. if i walk two or three miles, however slowly, i am regularly done for at the end of it. i expect there has been more mischief than i thought for. how about the bill? ever yours, t.h. huxley. [however, he and mr. spencer wrote their minds to each other on the subject, and as huxley remarks with reference to this occasion,] "the process does us both good, and in no way interferes with our friendship." [the letter immediately following, to mr. romanes, answers an inquiry about a passage quoted from huxley's writings by professor schurman in his "ethical import of darwinism." this passage, made up of sentences from two different essays, runs as follows:--] it is quite conceivable that every species tends to produce varieties of a limited number and kind, and that the effect of natural selection is to favour the development of some of these, while it opposes the development of others along their predetermined line of modification. ("collected essays" .) a whale does not tend to vary in the direction of producing feathers, nor a bird in the direction of producing whalebone. (in "mr. darwin's critics" "collected essays" .) "on the strength of these extracts" (writes mr. romanes), "schurman represents you 'to presuppose design, since development takes place along certain predetermined lines of modification.' but as he does not give references, and as i do not remember the passages, i cannot consult the context, which i fancy must give a different colouring to the extracts." marlborough place, january , . my dear romanes, they say that liars ought to have long memories. i am sure authors ought to. i could not at first remember where the passage schurman quotes occurs, but i did find it in the encyclopaedia britannica article on "evolution" ["collected essays" .], reprinted in "science and culture," page . but i do not find anything about the "whale" here. nevertheless i have a consciousness of having said something of the kind somewhere. [in "mr. darwin's critics" "collected essays" .] if you look at the whole passage, you will see that there is not the least intention on my part to presuppose design. if you break a piece of iceland spar with a hammer, all the pieces will have shapes of a certain kind, but that does not imply that the iceland spar was constructed for the purpose of breaking up in this way when struck. the atomic theory implies that of all possible compounds of a and b only those will actually exist in which the proportions of a and b by weight bear a certain numerical ratio. but it is mere arguing in a circle to say that the fact being so is evidence that it was designed to be so. i am not going to take any more notice of the everlasting d--, as you appropriately call him, until he has withdrawn his slanders.... pray give him a dressing--it will be one of those rare combinations of duty and pleasure. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [he was, moreover, constantly interested in schemes for the reform of the scientific work of the london university, and for the enlargement of the scope and usefulness of the royal society. as for the latter, a proposal had been made for federation with colonial scientific societies, which was opposed by some of his friends in the x club; and he writes to sir e. frankland on february :--] i am very sorry you are all against evans' scheme. i am for it. i think it a very good proposal, and after all the talk, i do not want to see the society look foolish by doing nothing. you are a lot of obstructive old tories, and want routing out. if i were only younger and less indisposed to any sort of exertion, i would rout you out finely! [with respect to the former, it had been proposed that medical degrees should be conferred, not by the university, but by a union of the several colleges concerned. he writes:--] marlborough place, january , . my dear foster, i send back the "heathen deutscheree's" (whose ways are dark) letter lest i forget it to-morrow. meanwhile perpend these two things:-- . united colleges propose to give just as good an examination and require as much qualification as the scotch universities. why then give their degree a distinguishing mark? . "academical distinctions" in medicine are all humbug. you are making a medical technical school at cambridge--and quite right too. the united colleges, if they do their business properly, will confer just as much, or as little "academical distinction" as cambridge by their degree. . the fellowship of the college of surgeons is in every sense as much an "academical distinction" as the masterships in surgery or doctorate of medicine of the scotch and english universities. . you may as well cry for the moon as ask my colleagues in the senate to meddle seriously with the matriculation. they are possessed by the devil that cries continually, "there is only the liberal education, and greek and latin are his prophets." [at bournemouth he also applied himself to writing the darwin obituary notice for the royal society, a labour of love which he had long felt unequal to undertaking. the manuscript was finally sent off to the printer's on april , unlike the still longer unfinished memoir on spirula, to which allusion is made here, among other business of the "challenger" committee, of which he was a member. on february he writes to sir j. evans:--] spirula is a horrid burden on my conscience--but nobody could make head or tail of the business but myself. that and darwin's obituary are the chief subjects of my meditations when i wake in the night. but i do not get much "forrarder," and i am afraid i shall not until i get back to london. bournemouth, february , . my dear foster, no doubt the treasury will jump at any proposition which relieves them from further expense--but i cannot say i like the notion of leaving some of the most important results of the "challenger" voyage to be published elsewhere than in the official record.... evans made a deft allusion to spirula, like a powder between two dabs of jam. at present i have no moral sense, but it may awake as the days get longer. i have been reading the "origin" slowly again for the nth time, with the view of picking out the essentials of the argument, for the obituary notice. nothing entertains me more than to hear people call it easy reading. exposition was not darwin's forte--and his english is sometimes wonderful. but there is a marvellous dumb sagacity about him--like that of a sort of miraculous dog--and he gets to the truth by ways as dark as those of the heathen chinee. i am getting quite sick of all the "paper philosophers," as old galileo called them, who are trying to stand upon darwin's shoulders and look bigger than he, when in point of real knowledge they are not fit to black his shoes. it is just as well i am collapsed or i believe i should break out with a final "fur darwin." i will think of you when i get as far as the fossils. at present i am poking over p. sylvestris and p. pinnata in the intervals of weariness. my wife joins with me in love to you both. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. snow and cold winds here. hope you are as badly off at cambridge. bournemouth, february , . my dear foster, we have had nothing but frost and snow here lately, and at present half a gale of the bitterest north-easter i have felt since we were at florence is raging. [similarly to sir j. evans on the th]--"i get my strength back but slowly, and think of migrating to greenland or spitzbergen for a milder climate."] i believe i am getting better, as i have noticed that at a particular stage of my convalescence from any sort of illness i pass through a condition in which things in general appear damnable and i myself an entire failure. if that is a sign of returning health you may look upon my restoration as certain. if it is only murray's speculations he wants to publish separately, i should say by all means let him. but the facts, whether advanced by him or other people, ought all to be in the official record. i agree we can't stir. i scented the "goak." how confoundedly proud you are of it. in former days i have been known to joke myself. i will look after the questions if you like. in my present state of mind i shall be a capital critic--on dizzy's views of critics... ever yours, t.h. huxley. [this year huxley was appointed a trustee of the british museum, an office which he had held ex officio from to , as president of the royal society. this is referred to in the following letter of march :--] my dear hooker, having nothing to do plays the devil with doing anything, and i suppose that is why i have been so long about answering your letter. there is nothing the matter with me now except want of strength. i am tired out with a three-mile walk, and my voice goes if i talk for any time. i do not suppose i shall do much good till i get into high and dry air, and it is too early for switzerland yet.... you see i was honoured and gloried by a trusteeship of the british museum. [replying on the nd to sir john evans' congratulations, he says:--"it is some months since lord salisbury made the proposal to me, and i was beginning to wonder what had happened--whether cantaur had put his foot down for example, and objected to bad company."] these things, i suppose, normally come when one is worn-out. when lowe was chancellor of the exchequer i had a long talk with him about the affairs of the natural history museum, and i told him that he had better put flower at the head of it and make me a trustee to back him. bobby no doubt thought the suggestion cheeky, but it is odd that the thing has come about now that i don't care for it, and desire nothing better than to be out of every description of bother and responsibility. have not lady hooker and you yet learned that a large country house is of all places the most detestable in cold weather? the neuralgia was a mild and kindly hint of providence not to do it again, but i am rejoiced it has vanished. pronouns got mixed somehow. with our kindest regards. ever yours, t.h. huxley. more last words:--what little faculty i have has been bestowed on the obituary of darwin for royal society lately. i have been trying to make it an account of his intellectual progress, and i hope it will have some interest. among other things i have been trying to set out the argument of the "origin of species," and reading the book for the nth time for that purpose. it is one of the hardest books to understand thoroughly that i know of, and i suppose that is the reason why even people like romanes get so hopelessly wrong. if you don't mind, i should be glad if you would run your eye over the thing when i get as far as the proof stage--lord knows when that will be. [a few days later he wrote again on the same subject, after reading the obituary of asa gray, the first american supporter of darwin's theory.] march , . i suppose dana has sent you his obituary of asa gray. the most curious feature i note in it is that neither of them seems to have mastered the principles of darwin's theory. see the bottom of page and the top of page . as i understand darwin there is nothing "anti-darwinian" in either of the two doctrines mentioned. darwin has left the causes of variation and the question whether it is limited or directed by external conditions perfectly open. the only serious work i have been attempting lately is darwin's obituary. i do a little every day, but get on very slowly. i have read the life and letters all through again, and the "origin" for the sixth or seventh time, becoming confirmed in my opinion that it is one of the most difficult books to exhaust that ever was written. i have a notion of writing out the argument of the "origin" in systematic shape as a sort of primer of darwinismus. i have not much stuff left in me, and it would be as good a way of using what there is as i know of. what do you think? ever yours, t.h. huxley. [in reply to this sir j. hooker was inclined to make the biographer alone responsible for the confusion noted in the obituary of asa gray. he writes:-- march , . dear huxley, dana's gray arrived yesterday, and i turned to pages and . i see nothing anti-darwinian in the passages, and i do not gather from them that gray did. i did not follow gray into his later comments on darwinism, and i never read his "darwiniana." my recollection of his attitude after acceptance of the doctrine, and during the first few years of his active promulgation of it, is that he understood it clearly, but sought to harmonise it with his prepossessions, without disturbing its physical principles in any way. he certainly showed far more knowledge and appreciation of the contents of the "origin" than any of the reviewers and than any of the commentators, yourself excepted. latterly he got deeper and deeper into theological and metaphysical wanderings, and finally formulated his ideas in an illogical fashion. ...be all this as it may, dana seems to be in a muddle on page , and quite a self-sought one. ever yours, j.d. hooker. the following is a letter of thanks to mrs. humphry ward for her novel "robert elsmere."] bournemouth, march , . my dear mrs. ward, my wife thanked you for your book which you were so kind as to send us. but that was grace before meat, which lacks the "physical basis" of after-thanksgiving--and i am going to supplement it, after my most excellent repast. i am not going to praise the charming style, because that was in the blood and you deserve no sort of credit for it. besides, i should be stepping beyond my last. but as an observer of the human ant-hill--quite impartial by this time--i think your picture of one of the deeper aspects of our troubled time admirable. you are very hard on the philosophers. i do not know whether langham or the squire is the more unpleasant--but i have a great deal of sympathy with the latter, so i hope he is not the worst. if i may say so, i think the picture of catherine is the gem of the book. she reminds me of her namesake of siena--and would as little have failed in any duty, however gruesome. you remember sodoma's picture. once more, many thanks for a great pleasure. my wife sends her love. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [meanwhile, he had been making no progress towards health; indeed, was going slowly downhill. he makes fun of his condition when writing to condole with mr. spencer on falling ill again after the unwonted spell of activity already mentioned; but a few weeks later discovered the cause of his weakness and depression in an affection of the heart. this was not immediately dangerous, though he looked a complete wreck. his letters from april onwards show how he was forced to give up almost every form of occupation, and even to postpone his visit to switzerland, until he had been patched up enough to bear the journey.] casalini, west cliff, bournemouth, march , . my dear spencer, i am very sorry to hear from hooker that you have been unwell again. you see if young men from the country will go plunging into the dissipations of the metropolis nemesis follows. until two days ago, the weather cocks never overstepped north on the one side and east on the other ever since you left. then they went west with sunshine and most enjoyable softness--but next south with a gale and rain--all ablowin' and agrowin' at this present. i have nothing to complain of so long as i do nothing; but although my hair has grown with its usual rapidity i differ from samson in the absence of a concurrent return of strength. perhaps that is because a male hairdresser, and no delilah, cut it last! but i waste biblical allusions upon you. my wife and nettie, who is on a visit, join with me in best wishes. please let me have a line to say how you are--gladstonianly on a post-card. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. bournemouth, april , . my dear foster, "let thy servant's face be white before thee." the obituary of darwin went to rix yesterday! [assistant secretary of the royal society.] it is not for lack of painstaking if it is not worth much, but i have been in a bad vein for work of any kind, and i thought i should never get even this simple matter ended. i have been bothered with praecordial uneasiness and intermittent pulse ever since i have been here, and at last i got tired of it and went home the day before yesterday to get carefully overhauled. hames tells me there is weakness and some enlargement of the left ventricle, which is pretty much what i expected. luckily the valves are all right. i am to go and devote myself to coaxing the left ventricle wall to thicken pro rata--among the mountains, and to have nothing to do with any public functions or other exciting bedevilments. so the international geological congress will not have the pleasure of seeing its honorary president in september. i am disgusted at having to break an engagement, but i cannot deny that hames is right. at present the mere notion of the thing puts me in a funk. i wish i could get out of the chair of the m.b.a. also...i know that you and evans and dyer will do your best, but you are all eaten up with other occupations. just turn it over in your mind--there's a dear good fellow--just as if you hadn't any other occupations. with which eminently reasonable and unselfish request believe me, ever yours, t.h. huxley. bournemouth, april , . my dear foster, i send by this post the last--i hope for your sake and for that of the recording angel--of --. [the "heathen deutscheree". a paper of his, contributed to the royal society, had been under revision.] i agree to all brady's suggestions. with all our tinkering i feel inclined to wind up the affair after the manner of mr. shandy's summing up of the discussion about tristram's breeches--"and when he has got 'em he'll look a beast in 'em." ever yours, t.h. huxley. [april . to the same:--] i am quite willing to remain at the m.b.a. till the opening. if evans will be president i shall be happy. -- is a very good man, but you must not expect too much of the "wild-cat" element, which is so useful in the world, in him. i am disgusted with myself for letting everything go by the run, but there is no help for it. the least thing bowls me over just now. casalini, west cliff, bournemouth, april , . my dear hooker, i plead not guilty. [in the matter of sending out no notices for a meeting of the x club.] it was agreed at the last meeting that there should be none in april--i suppose by reason of easter, so i sent no notice. this is what frankland told me in his letter of the nd. however, i see you were present, so i can't make it out. my continual absence makes me a shocking bad treasurer, and i am sorry to say that things will be worse instead of better. ever since this last pleuritic business i have been troubled with praecordial uneasiness. [after an account of his symptoms he continues] so i am off (with my wife) to switzerland at the end of this month, and shall be away all the summer. we have not seen the engadine and tyrol yet, so we shall probably make a long circuit. it is a horrid nuisance to be exiled in this fashion. i have hardly been at home one month in the last ten. but it is of no use to growl. under these circumstances, would you mind looking after the x while i am away? there is nothing to do but to send the notices on saturday previous to the meeting. i am very grieved to hear about hirst--though to say truth, the way he has held out for so long has been a marvel to me. the last news i had of spencer was not satisfactory. eheu! the "table round" is breaking up. it's a great pity; we were such pleasant fellows, weren't we? ever yours, t.h. huxley. casalini, west cliff, bournemouth, april , . my dear foster, i am cheered by your liking of the notice of darwin. i read the "life and letters," and the "origin," krause's "life," and some other things over again in order to do it. but i have not much go in me, and i was a scandalous long time pottering over the writing. i have sent the proof back with a variety of interpolations. i would have brought the "spirula" notes down here to see what i could do, but i felt pretty sure that if i brought two things i should not do one. nobody could do anything with it but myself. i will try what i can do when i go to town. how much time is there before the wind-up of the challenger? we go up to town monday next, and i am thinking of being off the monday following (april ). i have come to the same conclusion as yourself, that glion would be better than grindelwald. i should like very much to see you. just drop me a line to say when you are likely to turn up. poor arnold's death has been a great shock [matthew arnold died suddenly of heart disease at liverpool, where he had gone to meet his daughter on her return from america.]--rather for his wife than himself--i mean on her account than his. i have always thought sudden death to be the best of all for oneself, but under such circumstances it is terrible for those who are left. arnold told me years ago that he had heart disease. i do not suppose there is any likelihood of an immediate catastrophe in my own case. i should not go abroad if there were. imagine the horror of leaving one's wife to fight all the difficulties of sudden euthanasia in a swiss hotel! i saw enough of that two years ago at arolla. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, april , . my dear hooker, all my beautiful swiss plans are knocked on the head--at any rate for the present--in favour of horizontality and digitalis here. the journey up on monday demonstrated that travelling, at present, was impracticable. hames is sanguine i shall get right with rest, and i am quite satisfied with his opinion, but for the sake of my belongings he thinks it right to have clark's opinion to fortify him. it is a bore to be converted into a troublesome invalid even for a few weeks, but i comfort myself with my usual reflection on the chances of life, "lucky it is no worse." any impatience would have been checked by what i heard about moseley this morning--that he has sunk into hopeless idiocy. a man in the prime of life! ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, may , . my dear hooker, best thanks for your note and queries. i remember hearing what you say about darwin's father long ago, i am not sure from what source. but if you look at page of the "life and letters" you will see that darwin himself says his father's mind "was not scientific." i have altered the passage so as to use these exact words. i used "malice" rather in the french sense, which is more innocent than ours, but "irony" would be better if "malice" in any way suggests malignity. "chaff" is unfortunately beneath the dignity of a royal society obituary. i am going to add a short note about erasmus darwin's views. it is a great comfort to me that you like the thing. i am getting nervous over possible senility-- to-day, and nothing of your evergreen ways about me. i am decidedly mending, chiefly to all appearance by allowing myself to be stuffed with meat and drink like a strasburg goose. i am also very much afraid that abolishing tobacco has had something to do with my amendment. but i am mindful of your maxim--keep a tight hold over your doctor. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s. .--can't say i have sacrificed anything to penmanship, and am not at all sure about lucidity! p.s. .--it is "friday"--there is a dot over the i--reopened my letter to crow! [the following letter to mr. spencer is in answer to a note of condolence on his illness, in which the following passage occurs:--] i was grieved to hear of so serious an evil as that which [hirst] named. it is very depressing to find one's friends as well as one's self passing more and more into invalid life. well, we always have one consolation, such as it is, that we have made our lives of some service in the world, and that, in fact, we are suffering from doing too much for our fellows. such thoughts do not go far in the way of mitigation, but they are better than nothing. marlborough place, may , . my dear spencer, i have been on the point of writing to you, but put it off for lack of anything cheerful to say. after i had recovered from my pleurisy, i could not think why my strength did not come back. it turns out that there is some weakness and dilatation of the heart, but lucky no valvular mischief. i am condemned to the life of a prize pig--physical and mental idleness, and corporeal stuffing with meat and drink, and i am certainly improving under the regimen. i am told i have a fair chance of getting all right again. but i take it as a pretty broad hint to be quiet for the rest of my days. at present i have to be very quiet, and i spend most of my time on my back. you and i, my dear friend, have had our innings, and carry our bats out while our side is winning. one could not reasonably ask for more. and considering the infinite possibilities of physical and moral suffering which beset us, i, for my part, am well pleased that things are no worse. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, n.w., june , . my dear knowles, i have been living the life of a prize pig for the last six weeks--no exercise, much meat and drink, and as few manifestations of intelligence as possible, for the purpose of persuading my heart to return to its duty. i am astonished to find that there is a kick left in me--even when your friend kropotkin pitches into me without the smallest justification. vide , june, page . just look at , february, page . i say, "at the present time, the produce of the soil does not suffice," etc. i did not say a word about the capabilities of the soil if, as part and parcel of a political and social revolution on the grandest scale, we all took to spade husbandry. as a matter of fact, i did try to find out a year or two ago, whether the soil of these islands could, under any circumstances, feed its present population with wheat. i could not get any definite information, but i understood caird to think that it could. in my argument, however, the question is of no moment. there must be some limit to the production of food by a given area, and there is none to population. what a stimulus vanity is!--nothing but the vain dislike of being thought in the wrong would have induced me to trouble myself or bore you with this letter. bother kropotkin! i think his article very interesting and important nevertheless. i am getting better but very slowly. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. [in reply, mr. knowles begged him to come to lunch and a quiet talk, and further suggested, "as an entirely unbiassed person," that he ought to answer kropotkin's errors in the "nineteenth century," and not only in a private letter behind his back. the answer is as follows:--] marlborough place, june , . my dear knowles, your invitation is tantalising. i wish i could accept it. but it is now some six weeks that my excursions have been limited to a daily drive. the rest of my time i spend on the flat of my back, eating, drinking, and doing absolutely nothing besides, except taking iron and digitalis. i meant to have gone abroad a month ago, but it turned out that my heart was out of order, and though i am getting better, progress is slow, and i do not suppose i shall get away for some weeks yet. i have neither brains nor nerves, and the very thought of controversy puts me in a blue funk! my doctors prophesy good things, as there is no valvular disease, only dilatation. but for the present i must subscribe myself (from an editorial point of view). your worthless and useless and bad-hearted friend, t.h. huxley. [the british association was to meet at plymouth this year; and mr. w.f. collier (an uncle of john collier, his son-in-law) invited huxley and any friend of his to be his guest at horrabridge.] marlborough place, june , . my dear mr. collier, it would have been a great pleasure to me to be your guest once more, but the fates won't have it this time. dame nature has given me a broad hint that i have had my innings, and, for the rest of my time, must be content to look on at the players. it is not given to all of us to defy the doctors and go in for a new lease, as i am glad to hear you are doing. i declare that your open invitation to any friend of mine is the most touching mark of confidence i ever received. i am going to send it to my great ally michael foster, secretary of the royal society. i do not know whether he has made any other arrangements, and i am not quite sure whether he and his wife are going to plymouth. but i hope they may be able to accept, for you will certainly like them, and they will certainly like you. i will ask him to write directly to you to save time. with very kind remembrances to mrs. collier. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i forgot to say that i am mending as fast as i can expect to do. chapter . . . [it was not till june that huxley was patched up sufficiently by the doctors for him to start for the engadine. his first stage was to lugano; the second by menaggio and colico to chiavenna; the third to the maloja. the summer visitors who saw him arrive so feeble that he could scarcely walk a hundred yards on the level, murmured that it was a shame to send out an old man to die there. their surprise was the greater when, after a couple of months, they saw him walking his ten miles and going up two thousand feet without difficulty. as far as his heart was concerned, the experiment of sending him to the mountains was perfectly justified. with returning strength he threw himself once more into the pursuit of gentians, being especially interested in their distribution and hybridism, and the possibility of natural hybrids explaining the apparent connecting links between species. no doubt, too, he felt some gratification in learning from his friend mr. (now sir w.) thiselton dyer, that the results he had already obtained in pursuing this hobby had been of real value:-- your important paper "on alpine gentians" (writes the latter) has begun to attract the attention of botanists. it has led baillon, who is the most acute of the french people, to make some observations of his own. at the maloja he stayed twelve weeks, but it was not until nearly two months had elapsed that he could write of any decided improvement, although even then his anticipations for the future were of the gloomiest. the "secret" alluded to in the following letter is the destined award to him of the copley medal:--] hotel kursaal, maloja, ober engadine, august , . my dear foster, i know you will be glad to hear that, at last, i can report favourably of my progress. the first six weeks of our stay here the weather was cold, foggy, wet, and windy--in short, everything it should not be. if the hotel had not been as it is, about the most comfortable in switzerland, i do not know what i should have done. as it was, i got a very bad attack of "liver," which laid me up for ten days or so. a brighton doctor--bluett by name, and well up to his work--kindly looked after me. with the early days of august the weather changed for the better, and for the last fortnight we have had perfect summer--day after day. i soon picked up my walking power, and one day got up to lake longhin, about feet up. that was by way of an experiment, and i was none the worse for it, but usually my walks are of a more modest description. to-day we are all clouds and rain, and my courage is down to zero, with praecordial discomfort. it seems to me that my heart is quite strong enough to do all that can reasonably be required of it--if all the rest of the machinery is in good order, and the outside conditions are favourable. but the poor old pump cannot contend with grit or want of oil anywhere. i mean to stay here as long as i can; they say it is often very fine up to the middle of september. then we shall migrate lower, probably on the italian side, and get home most likely in october. but i really am very much puzzled to know what to do. my wife has not been very well lately, and ethel has contrived to sprain her ankle at lawn-tennis. collier has had to go to naples, but we expect him back in a few days. with our united love to mrs. foster and yourself. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i was very pleased to hear of a secret my wife communicated to me. so long as i was of any use, i did not care much about having the fact recognised, but now that i am used up i like the feather in my cap. "fuimus." let us have some news of you. [sir m. foster, who was kept in england by the british association till september , wrote that he was going abroad for the rest of september, and proposed to spend some time at menaggio, whence he hoped to effect a meeting. he winds up with a jest at his recent unusual occupation:--"i have had no end of righteousness accounted to me for helping to entertain bishops at cambridge." hence the postcript in reply:--] hotel kursaal, maloja, september , . my dear foster, a sharp fall of snow has settled our minds, which have been long wavering about future plans, and we leave this for menaggio, hotel vittoria, on thursday next, th. [he did not ultimately leave till the nd.] all the wiseacres tell us that there are fresher breezes (vento di lecco) at menaggio than anywhere else in the como country, and at any rate we are going to try whether we can exist there. if it does not answer, we will leave a note for you there to say where we are gone. it would be very jolly to forgather. i am sorry to leave this most comfortable of hotels, but i do not think that cold would suit either of us. i am marvellously well so long as i am taking sharp exercise, and i do my nine or ten miles without fatigue. it is only when i am quiet that i know that i have a heart. i do not feel at all sure how matters may be feet lower, but what i have gained is all to the good in the way of general health. in spite of all the bad weather we have had, i have nothing but praise for this place--the air is splendid, excellent walks for invalids, capital drainage, and the easiest to reach of all places feet up. my wife sends her love, and thanks mrs. foster for her letter, and looks forward to meeting her. ever yours, t.h. huxley. wash yourself clean of all that episcopal contamination or you may infect me! [but adverse circumstances prevented the meeting.] hotel kursaal, maloja, september , . my dear foster, as ill luck would have it, we went over to pontresina to-day (for the first time), and have only just got back ( . ). i have just telegraphed to you. all our plans have been upset by the fohn wind, which gave us four days' continuous downpour here--upset the roads, and flooded the chiavenna to colico railway. we hear that the latter is not yet repaired. i was going to write to you at the vittoria, but thought you could have hardly got there yet. we took rooms there a week ago, and then had to countermand them. if there are any letters kicking about for us, will you ask them to send them on? by way of an additional complication, my poor wife gave herself an unlucky strain this morning, and even if the railway is mended i do not think she will be fit to travel for two or three days. we are very disappointed. what is to be done? i am wonderfully better. so long as i am taking active exercise and the weather is dry, i am quite comfortable, and only discover that i have a heart when i am kept quiet by bad weather or get my liver out of order. here i can walk nine or ten miles up hill and down dale without difficulty or fatigue. what i may be able to do elsewhere is doubtful. ever yours, t.h. huxley. it would do you and mrs. foster a great deal of good to come up here. not out of your way at all! oh dear no! zurich, october , . my dear foster, i should have written to you at stresa, but i had mislaid your postcard, and it did not turn up till too late. we made up our minds after all that we would as soon not go down to the lakes--where the ground would be drying up after the inundations--so we went the other way over the julier to tiefenkasten, and from t. to ragatz, where we stayed a week. ragatz was hot and steamy at first--cold and steamy afterwards--but earlier in the season, i should think, it would be pleasant. last monday we migrated here, and have had the vilest weather until to-day. all yesterday it rained cats and dogs. to-day we are off to neuhausen (schweitzerhof) to have a look at the rhine falls. if it is pleasant we may stop there a few days. then we go to stuttgart, on our way to nuremberg, which neither of us have seen. we shall be at the "bavarian hotel," and a letter will catch us there, if you have anything to say, i daresay up to the middle of the month. after that frankfort, and then home. we do not find long railway journeys very good for either of us, and i am trying to keep within six hours at a stretch. i am not so vigorous as i was at maloja, but still infinitely better than when i left england. i hope the mosquitoes left something of you in venice. when i was there in october there were none! my wife joins with me in love to mrs. foster and yourself. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [some friendly chaff in sir m. foster's reply to the latter contains at least a real indication of the way in which huxley became the centre of the little society at the maloja:--] you may reflect that you have done the english tourists a good service this summer. at most table d'hotes in the lakes i overheard people talking about the joys of maloja, and giving themselves great airs on account of their intimacy with "professor huxley"!! [but indeed he made several friends here, notably one in an unexpected quarter. this was father steffens, professor of palaeography in freiburg university, resident catholic priest at maloja in the summer, with whom he had many discussions, and whose real knowledge of the critical questions confronting christian theology he used to contrast with the frequent ignorance and occasional rudeness of the english representatives of that science who came to the hotel. a letter to mr. spencer from ragatz shows him on his return journey:--] in fact, so long as i was taking rather sharp exercise in sunshine i felt quite well, and i could walk as well as any time these ten years. it needed damp cold weather to remind me that my pumping apparatus was not to be depended upon under unfavourable conditions. four thousand feet descent has impressed that fact still more forcibly upon me, and i am quite at sea as to what it will be best to do when we return. quite certainly, however, we shall not go to bournemouth. i like the place, but the air is too soft and moist for either of us. i should be very glad if we could be within reach of you and help to cheer you up, but i cannot say anything definite at present about our winter doings... my wife sends her kindest regards. she is much better than when we left, which is lucky for me, as i have no mind, and could not make it up if i had any. the only vigour i have is in my legs, and that only when the sun shines. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [a curious incident on this journey deserves recording, as an instance of a futile "warning." on the night of october - , huxley woke in the night and seemed to hear an inward voice say, "don't go to stuttgart and nuremberg; go straight home." all he did was to make a note of the occurrence and carry out his original plan, whereupon nothing happened. the following to his youngest daughter, who had gone back earlier from the maloja, refers to her success in winning the prize for modelling at the slade school of art.] schweitzerhof, neuhausen, october , . dearest babs, i will sit to you like "pater on a monument smiling at grief" for the medallion. as to the photographs, i will try to get them done to order either at stuttgart or nuremberg, if we stay at either place long enough. but i am inclined to think they had better be done at home, and then you could adjust the length of the caoutchouc visage to suit your artistic convenience. we have been crowing and flapping our wings over the medal and trimmings. the only thing i lament is that "your father's influence" was not brought to bear; there is no telling what you might have got if it had been. thoughtless--very!! so sorry we did not come here instead of stopping at ragatz. the falls are really fine, and the surrounding country a wide tableland, with the great snowy peaks of the oberland on the horizon. last evening we had a brilliant sunset, and the mountains were lighted up with the most delicate rosy blush you can imagine. to-day it rains cats and dogs again. you will have seen in the papers that the rhine and the aar and the rhone and the arve are all in flood. there is more water here in the falls than there has been these ten years. however, we have got to go, as the hotel shuts up to-morrow, and there seems a good chance of reaching stuttgart without water in the carriage. long railway journeys do not seem to suit either of us, and we have fixed the maximum at six hours. i expect we shall be home some time in the third week of this month. love to hal and anybody else who may be at home. ever your pater. marlborough place, october , . my dear foster, we got back on thursday, and had a very good passage, and took it easy by staying the night at dover. the "lord warden" gave us the worst dinner we have had for four months, at double the price of the good dinners. i wonder why we cannot manage these things better in england. we are both very glad to be at home again, and trust we may be allowed to enjoy our own house for a while. but, oh dear, the air is not malojal! not even at hempstead, whither i walked yesterday, and the pump labours accordingly. i found the first part of the fifth edition of the text-book among the two or three hundredweight of letters and books which had accumulated during four months. gratulire! by the way, south kensington has sent me some inquiry about examinations, which i treat with contempt, as doubtless you have a duplicate. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on october he announces his return to sir joseph hooker, and laments his loss of vigour at the sea-level:--] hames won't let me stay here in november, and i think we shall go to brighton. unless on the flat of my back, in bed, i shall not have been at home a month all this year. i have been utterly idle. there was a lovely case of hybridism, gentiana lutea and g. punctata, in a little island in the lake of sils; but i fell ill and was confined to bed just after i found it out. it would be very interesting if somebody would work out distribution five miles round the maloja as a centre. there are the most curious local differences. you asked me to send you a copy of my obituary of darwin. so i put one herewith, though no doubt you have seen it in the "proceedings of the royal society." i should like to know what you think of to . if ever i am able to do anything again i will enlarge on these heads. [in these pages of the obituary notice ("proceedings of the royal society" number ) he endeavours:--] to separate the substance of the theory from its accidents, and to show that a variety, not only of hostile comments, but of friendly would-be improvements lose their raison d'etre to the careful student... it is not essential to darwin's theory that anything more should be assumed than the facts of heredity, variation, and unlimited multiplication; and the validity of the deductive reasoning as to the effect of the last (that is, of the struggle for existence which it involves) upon the varieties resulting from the operation of the former. nor is it essential that one should take up any particular position in regard to the mode of variation, whether, for example, it takes place per saltum or gradually; whether it is definite in character or indefinite. still less are those who accept the theory bound to any particular views as to the causes of heredity or of variation. [the remaining letters of the year trace the gradual bettering of health, from the "no improvement" of october to the almost complete disappearance of bad symptoms in december. he had renounced brighton, which he detested, in favour of eastbourne, where the keen air of the downs and the daily walk over beachy head acted as a tolerable substitute for the alps. though he would not miss the anniversary meeting of the royal society, when he was to receive the copley medal, one more link binding him to his old friend hooker, he did not venture to stay for the dinner in the evening. this autumn also he resigned his place on the board of governors of eton college.] "i think it must be a year and a half," [he writes,] "since i attended a meeting, and i am not likely to do better in the future." marlborough place, october , . my dear hooker, best thanks for your suggestion about the cottage, namely "that before you decide on brighton mrs. huxley should come down and look at the cottage below my house" at sunningdale, but i do not see my way to adopting it. a house, however small, involves servants and ties one to one place. the conditions that suit me do not seem to be found anywhere but in the high alps, and i can't afford to keep a second house in the country and pass the summer in switzerland as well. we are going to brighton (not because we love it, quite t'other) on account of the fine weather that is to be had there in november and december. we shall be back for some weeks about christmas, and then get away somewhere else--malvern possibly--out of the east winds of february and march. i do not like this nomadic life at all, but it appears to be hobson's choice between that and none. i am sorry to hear you are troubled by your ears. i am so deaf that i begin to fight shy of society. it irritates me not to hear; it irritates me still more to be spoken to as if i were deaf, and the absurdity of being irritated on the last ground irritates me still more. i wish you would start that business of giving a competent young botanist with good legs pounds to go and study distribution in the engadine--from the maloja as centre--in a circle of a radius of eight or ten miles. the distribution of the four principal conifers, arolla pine, larch, mountain pine and spruce, is most curious, the why and wherefore nowise apparent. i am very sorry i cannot be at x on thursday, but they won't let me be out at night at present. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, october , . my dear foster, no fear of my trying to stop in london. hames won't have it. he came and overhauled me the other day. as i expected, the original mischief is just as it was. one does not get rid either of dilatation or its results at my time of life. the only thing is to keep the pipes clear by good conditions of existence. after endless discussion we have settled on brighton for november and december. it is a hateful place to my mind, but there is more chance of sunshine there (at this time) than anywhere else. we shall come up for a week or two on this side of christmas, and then get away somewhere else out of the way of the east winds of february and march. i do not think that the hazlemere country would do for us, nor indeed any country place so long as we cannot regularly set up house. heaven knows i don't want to bother about anything at present. but i should like to convince -- that he does not yet understand the elements of his subject. what a copious ink-spilling cuttlefish of a writer he is! ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, london, n.w., november , . my dear skelton, best thanks for the second volume of "maitland of lethington." i have been in the engadine for the last four months, trying to repair the crazy old "house i live in," and meeting with more success than i hoped for when i left home. your volume turned up amidst a mountain of accumulated books, papers, and letters, and i can only hope it has not been too long without acknowledgment. i have been much interested in your argument about the "casket letters." the comparison of crawford's deposition with the queen's letter leaves no sort of doubt that the writer of one had the other before him; and under the circumstances i do not see how it can be doubted that the queen's letter is forged. but though thus wholly agreeing with you in substance, i cannot help thinking that your language on page may be seriously pecked at. my experience of reporters leads me to think that there would be no discrepancy at all comparable to that between the two accounts, and i speak from the woeful memories of the many royal commissions i have wearied over. the accuracy of a good modern reporter is really wonderful. and i do not think that "the two documents were drawn by the same hand." i should say that the writer of the letter had crawford's deposition before him, and made what he considered improvements here and there. you will say this letter is like falstaff's reckoning, with but a pennyworth of thanks to this monstrous quantity of pecking. but the gratitude is solid and the criticism mere two-dimension stuff. it is a charming book. with kind remembrances to mrs. skelton. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. southcliff terrace, eastbourne, november , . my dear foster, we came here on tuesday, on which day, by ill luck, the east wind also started, and has been blowing half a gale ever since. we are in the last house but one to the west, and as high up as we dare go--looking out on the sea. the first day we had to hold on to our chairs to prevent being blown away in the sitting-room, but we have hired a screen and can now croon over the fire without danger. a priori, the conditions cannot be said to have been promising for two people, one of whom is liable to bronchitis and rheumatism and the other to pleurisy, but, as i am so fond of rubbing into herbert spencer, a priori reasonings are mostly bosh, and we are thriving. with three coats on i find the air on beachy head eminently refreshing, and there is so much light in the southern quarter just now, that we confidently hope to see the sun once more in the course of a few days. as i told you in my official letter, i am going up for the th. but i am in a quandary about the dinner, partly by reason of the inevitable speech, and partly the long sitting. i should very much like to attend, and i think i could go through with it. on the other hand, my wife declares it would be very imprudent, and i am not quite sure she is wrong. i wish you would tell me exactly what you think about the matter. the way i pick up directly i get into good air makes me suspect myself of malingering, and yet i certainly had grown very seedy in london before we left. ever yours, t.h. huxley. southcliff terrace, eastbourne, november , . my dear foster, we are very sorry to hear about michael junior. [sir m. foster's son was threatened with lung trouble, and was ordered to live abroad. he proposed to carry his medical experience to the maloja and practise there during the summer. huxley offered to give him some introductions.] experto crede; of all anxieties the hardest to bear is that about one's children. but considering the way you got off yourself and have become the hearty and bucolic person you are, i think you ought to be cheery. everybody speaks well of the youngster, and he is bound to behave himself well and get strong as swiftly as possible. though very loth, i give up the dinner. but unless i am on my back i shall turn up at the meeting. i think that is a compromise very creditable to my prudence. though it is blowing a gale of wind from south-west to-day there is real sunshine, and it is fairly warm. i am very glad we came here instead of that beastly brighton. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. southcliff terrace, eastbourne, november , . my dear evans, i am very sorry to have missed you. i told my doctor that while the weather was bad it was of no use to go away, and when it was fine i might just as well stop at home; but he did not see the force of my reasoning, and packed us off here. the award of the copley is a kindness i feel very much... the congress [the international geological congress, at which he was to have presided.] seems to have gone off excellently. i consider that my own performance of the part of dummy was distinguished. so the lawes business is fairly settled at last! "lawes deo," as the claimant might have said. but the pun will be stale, as you doubtless have already made all possible epigrams and punnigrams on the topic. my wife joins with me in kindest regards to mrs. evans and yourself. if mrs. evans had only come up to the maloja, she would have had real winter and no cold. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. southcliff terrace, eastbourne, november , . my dear hooker, you would have it that the royal society broke the law in giving you the copley, and they certainly violated custom in giving it to me the year following. whoever heard of two biologers getting it one after another? it is very pleasant to have our niches in the pantheon close together. it is getting on for forty years since we were first "acquent," and considering with what a very considerable dose of tenacity, vivacity, and that glorious firmness (which the beasts who don't like us call obstinacy) we are both endowed, the fact that we have never had the shadow of a shade of a quarrel is more to our credit than being ex-presidents and copley medallists. but we have had a masonic bond in both being well salted in early life. i have always felt i owed a great deal to my acquaintance with the realities of things gained in the old "rattlesnake". i am getting on pretty well here, though the weather has been mostly bad. all being well i shall attend the meeting of the society on the th, but not the dinner. i am very sorry to miss the latter, but i dare not face the fatigue and the chances of a third dose of pleurisy. my wife sends kindest regards and thanks for your congratulations. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. southcliff terrace, eastbourne, november , . my dear flower, ...many thanks for taking my troublesomeness in good part. my friend will be greatly consoled to know that you have the poor man "in your eye." schoolmaster, naturalist, and coal merchant used to be the three refuges for the incompetent. schoolmaster is rapidly being eliminated, so i suppose the pressure on natural history and coals will increase. i am glad you have got the civil service commissioners to listen to common sense. i had an awful battle with them (through the department) over newton, who is now in your paleontological department. if i recollect rightly, they examined him inter alia on the working of the poor laws! the royal society has dealt very kindly with me. they patted me on the back when i started thirty-seven years ago, and it was a great encouragement. they give me their best, now that my race is run, and it is a great consolation. at the far end of life all one's work looks so uncommonly small, that the good opinion of one's contemporaries acquires a new value. we have a summer's day, and i am writing before an open window! yesterday it blew great guns. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letter to lady welby, the point of which is that to be "morally convinced" is not the same thing as to offer scientific proof, refers to an article in the "church quarterly" for october called "truthfulness in science and religion," evoked by huxley's "nineteenth century" article on "science and the bishops."] november , . dear lady welby, many thanks for the article in the "church quarterly", which i return herewith. i am not disposed to bestow any particular attention upon it; as the writer, though evidently a fair-minded man, appears to me to be entangled in a hopeless intellectual muddle, and one which has no novelty. christian beliefs profess to be based upon historical facts. if there was no such person as jesus of nazareth, and if his biography given in the gospels is a fiction, christianity vanishes. now the inquiry into the truth or falsehood of a matter of history is just as much a question of pure science as the inquiry into the truth or falsehood of a matter of geology, and the value of evidence in the two cases must be tested in the same way. if any one tells me that the evidence of the existence of man in the miocene epoch is as good as that upon which i frequently act every day of my life, i reply that this is quite true, but that it is no sort of reason for believing in the existence of miocene man. surely no one but a born fool can fail to be aware that we constantly, and in very grave conjunctions, are obliged to act upon extremely bad evidence, and that very often we suffer all sorts of penalties in consequence. and surely one must be something worse than a born fool to pretend that such decision under the pressure of the enigmas of life ought to have the smallest influence in those judgments which are made with due and sufficient deliberation. you will see that these considerations go to the root of the whole matter. i regret that i cannot discuss the question more at length and deal with sundry topics put forward in your letter. at present writing is a burden to me. [a letter to professor ray lankester mixes grave and gay in a little homily, edged by personal experience, on the virtues and vices of combativeness.] southcliff terrace, eastbourne, december , . i think it would be a very good thing both for you and for oxford if you went there. oxford science certainly wants stirring up, and notwithstanding your increase in years and wisdom, i think you would bear just a little more stirring down, so that the conditions for a transfer of energy are excellent! seriously, i wish you would let an old man, who has had his share of fighting, remind you that battles, like hypotheses, are not to be multiplied beyond necessity. science might say to you as the staffordshire collier's wife said to her husband at the fair, "get thee foighten done and come whoam." you have a fair expectation of ripe vigour for twenty years; just think what may be done with that capital. no use to tu quoque me. under the circumstances of the time, warfare has been my business and duty. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [two more letters of the year refer to the south kensington examinations, for which huxley was still nominally responsible. as before, we see him reluctant to sign the report upon papers which he had not himself examined; yet at the same time doing all that lay in his power to assist by criticising the questions and thinking out the scheme of teaching on which the examination was to be based. he replies to some proposed changes in a letter to sir m. foster of december :--] i am very sorry i cannot agree with your clients about the examination. they should recollect the late master of trinity's aphorism that even the youngest of us is not infallible. i know exactly upon what principles i am going, and so far as i am at present informed that advantage is peculiar to my side. two points i am quite clear about--one is the exclusion of amphioxus, and the other the retention of so much of the bird as will necessitate a knowledge of sauropsidan skeletal characters and the elements of skeletal homologies in skull and limbs. i have taken a good deal of pains over drawing up a new syllabus--including dogfish--and making room for it by excluding amphioxus and all of bird except skeleton. i have added lamprey (cranial and spinal skeleton, not face cartilages), so that the intelligent student may know what a notochord means before he goes to embryology. i have excluded distoma and kept helix. the committee must now settle the matter. i have done with it. [on december he writes:--] i have been thinking over the examinership business without coming to any very satisfactory result. the present state of things is not satisfactory so far as i am concerned. i do not like to appear to be doing what i am not doing. -- would of course be the successor indicated, if he had not so carefully cut his own throat as an examiner...he would be bringing an action against the lord president before he had been three years in office!...as i told forster, when he was vice-president, the whole value of the examiner system depends on the way the examiners do their work. i have the gravest doubt about -- steadily plodding through the disgustful weariness of it as you and i have done, or observing any regulation that did not suit his fancy. [with this may be compared the letter of may , , to sir j. donnelly, when he finally resolved to give up the "sleeping partnership" in the examination. his last letter of the year was written to sir j. hooker, when transferring to him the "archives" of the x club, as the new treasurer.] marlborough place, december , . my dear hooker, all good wishes to you and yours, and many of them. thanks for the cheque. you are very confiding to send it without looking at the account. but i have packed up the "archives," which poor dear busk handed over to me, and will leave them at the athenaeum for you. among them you will find the account book. there are two or three cases, when i was absent, in which the names are not down. i have no doubt frankland gave them to me by letter, but the book was at home and they never got set down. peccavi! i have been picking up in the most astonishing way during the last fortnight or three weeks at eastbourne. my doctor, hames, carefully examined my heart yesterday, and told me that though some slight indications were left, he should have thought nothing of them if he had not followed the whole history of the case. with fresh air and exercise and careful avoidance of cold and night air i am to be all right again in a few months. i am not fond of coddling; but as paddy gave his pig the best corner in his cabin--because "shure, he paid the rint"--i feel bound to take care of myself as a household animal of value, to say nothing of any other grounds. so, much as i should like to be with you all on the rd, i must defer to the taboo. the wife got a nasty bronchitic cold as soon as she came up. she is much better now. but i shall be glad to get her down to eastbourne again. except that, we are all very flourishing, as i hope you are. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the events to be chronicled in this year are, as might be expected, either domestic or literary. the letters are full of allusions to his long controversy in defence of agnosticism, mainly with dr. wace, who had declared the use of the name to be a "mere evasion" on the part of those who ought to be dubbed infidels (apropos of this controversy, a letter may be cited which appeared in the "agnostic annual" for , in answer to certain inquiries from the editor as to the right definition of agnosticism:--] some twenty years ago, or thereabouts, i invented the word "agnostic" to denote people who, like myself, confess themselves to be hopelessly ignorant concerning a variety of matters, about which metaphysicians and theologians, both orthodox and heterodox, dogmatise with the utmost confidence, and it has been a source of some amusement to me to watch the gradual acceptance of the term and its correlate, "agnosticism" (i think the "spectator" first adopted and popularised both), until now agnostics are assuming the position of a recognised sect, and agnosticism is honoured by especial obloquy on the part of the orthodox. thus it will be seen that i have a sort of patent right in "agnostic" (it is my trade mark), and i am entitled to say that i can state authentically what was originally meant by agnosticism. what other people may understand by it, by this time, i do not know. if a general council of the church agnostic were held, very likely i should be condemned as a heretic. but i speak only for myself in answering these questions. . agnosticism is of the essence of science, whether ancient or modern. it simply means that a man shall not say he knows or believes that which he has no scientific grounds for professing to know or believe. . consequently agnosticism puts aside not only the greater part of popular theology, but also the greater part of popular anti-theology. on the whole, the "bosh" of heterodoxy is more offensive to me than that of orthodoxy, because heterodoxy professes to be guided by reason and science, and orthodoxy does not. . i have no doubt that scientific criticism will prove destructive to the forms of supernaturalism which enter into the constitution of existing religions. on trial of any so-called miracle the verdict of science is "not proven." but true agnosticism will not forget that existence, motion, and law-abiding operation in nature are more stupendous miracles than any recounted by the mythologies, and that there may be things, not only in the heavens and earth, but beyond the intelligible universe, which "are not dreamt of in our philosophy." the theological "gnosis" would have us believe that the world is a conjurer's house; the anti-theological "gnosis" talks as if it were a "dirt-pie," made by the two blind children, law and force. agnosticism simply says that we know nothing of what may be behind phenomena.); [to the building of the new house at eastbourne, and to the marriage in quick succession of his two youngest daughters, whereby, indeed, the giving up of the house in london and definite departure from london was made possible. all the early part of the year, till he found it necessary to go to switzerland again, he stayed unwillingly in eastbourne, from time to time running up to town, or having son or daughter to stay with him for a week, his wife being too busy to leave town, with the double preparations for the weddings on hand, so that he writes to her:] "i feel worse than the 'cowardly agnostic' i am said to be--for leaving you to face your botherations alone." [one can picture him still firm of tread, with grizzled head a little stooped from his square shoulders, pacing the sea wall with long strides, or renewing somewhat of his strength as it again began to fail, in the keener air of the downs, warmly defended against chill by a big cap--for he had been suffering from his ears--and a long rough coat. he writes (february ):] "i have bought a cap with flaps to protect my ears. i look more 'doggy' than ever." [and on march :--] we have had a lovely day, quite an italian sky and sea, with a good deal of florentine east wind. i walked up to the signal house, and was greatly amused by a young sheep-dog whose master could hardly get him away from circling round me and staring at me with a short dissatisfied bark every now and then. it is the undressed wool of my coat bothers all the dogs. they can't understand why a creature which smells so like a sheep should walk on its hind legs. i wish i could have relieved that dog's mind, but i did not see my way to an explanation. from this time on, the effects of several years' comparative rest became more perceptible. his slowly returning vigour was no longer sapped by the unceasing strain of multifarious occupations. and if his recurrent ill-health sometimes seems too strongly insisted on, it must be remembered that he had always worked at the extreme limit of his powers--the limit, as he used regretfully to say, imposed on his brain by his other organs--and that after his first breakdown he was never very far from a second. when this finally came in , his forces were so far spent that he never expected to recover as he did. in the marriage this year of his youngest daughter, huxley was doomed to experience the momentary little twinge which will sometimes come to the supporter of an unpopular principle when he first puts it into practice among his own belongings. athenaeum club, january , . my dear hooker, i have just left the x "archives" here for you. i left them on my table by mischance when i came here on the x day. i have a piece of family news for you. my youngest daughter ethel is going to marry john collier. i have always been a great advocate for the triumph of common sense and justice in the "deceased wife's sister" business--and only now discover, that i had a sneaking hope that all of my own daughters would escape that experiment! they are quite suited to one another and i would not wish a better match for her. and whatever annoyances and social pin-pricks may come in ethel's way, i know nobody less likely to care about them. we shall have to go to norway, i believe, to get the business done. in the meantime, my wife (who has been laid up with bronchitic cold ever since we came home) and i have had as much london as we can stand, and are off to-morrow to eastbourne again, but to more sheltered quarters. i hope lady hooker and you are thriving. don't conceal the news from her, as my wife is always accusing me of doing. ever yours, t.h. huxley. to mr. w.f. collier. marlborough place, january , . many thanks for your kind letter. i have as strong an affection for jack as if he were my own son, and i have felt very keenly the ruin we involuntarily brought upon him--by our poor darling's terrible illness and death. so that if i had not already done my best to aid and abet other people in disregarding the disabilities imposed by the present monstrous state of the law, i should have felt bound to go as far as i could towards mending his life. ethel is just suited to him...of course i could have wished that she should be spared the petty annoyances which she must occasionally expect. but i know of no one less likely to care for them. your shakespere parable is charming--but i am afraid it must be put among the endless things that are read in to the "divine williams" as the frenchman called him. [the second part of the letter replies to the question whether shakespeare had any notion of the existence of the sexes in plants and the part played in their fertilisation by insects, which, of course, would be prevented from visiting them by rainy weather, when he wrote in the "midsummer night's dream":-- the moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye, and when she weeps, weeps every little flower lamenting some enforced chastity.] there was no knowledge of the sexes of plants in shakespere's time, barring some vague suggestion about figs and dates. even in the th century, after linnaeus, the observations of sprengel, who was a man of genius, and first properly explained the action of insects, were set aside and forgotten. i take it that shakespere is really alluding to the "enforced chastity" of dian (the moon). the poets ignore that little endymion business when they like! i have recovered in such an extraordinary fashion that i can plume myself on being an "interesting case," though i am not going to compete with you in that line. and if you look at the february "nineteenth" i hope you will think that my brains are none the worse. but perhaps that conceited speech is evidence that they are. we came to town to make the acquaintance of nettie's fiance, and i am happy to say the family takes to him. when it does not take to anybody, it is the worse for that anybody. so, before long, my house will be empty, and as my wife and i cannot live in london, i think we shall pitch our tent in eastbourne. good jack offers to give us a pied-a-terre when we come to town. to-day we are off to eastbourne again. carry off harry, who is done up from too zealous hospital work. however, it is nothing serious. the following is in reply to a request that he would write a letter, as he describes it elsewhere, "about the wife's sister business--for the edification of the peers." jevington gardens, eastbourne, march , . my dear donnelly, i feel "downright mean," as the yankees say, that i have not done for the sake of right and justice what i am moved to do now that i have a personal interest in the matter of the directest kind; and i rather expect that will be thrown in my teeth if my name is at the bottom of anything i write. on the other hand, i loathe anonymity. however, we can take time to consider that point. anyhow i will set to work on the concoction of a letter, if you will supply me with the materials which will enable me to be thoroughly posted up in the facts. i have just received your second letter. pity you could not stay over yesterday--it was very fine. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the letter in question is as follows:--] april , . dear lord hartington, i am assured by those who know more about the political world than i do, that if lord salisbury would hold his hand and let his party do as they like about the deceased wife's sister bill which is to come on next week, it would pass. considering the irritation against the bishops and a certain portion of the lay peers among a number of people who have the means of making themselves heard and felt, which is kept up and aggravated, as time goes on, by the action of the upper house in repeatedly snubbing the lower, about this question, i should have thought it (from a conservative point of view) good policy to heal the sore. the talk of class versus mass is generally mere clap-trap; but, in this case, there is really no doubt that a fraction of the classes stands in the way of the fulfilment of a very reasonable demand on the part of the masses. a clear-headed man like lord salisbury would surely see this if it were properly pressed on his attention. i do not presume to say whether it is practicable or convenient for the leader of the liberal unionist party to take any steps in this direction; and i should hardly have ventured to ask you to take this suggestion into consideration if the interest i have always taken in the d.w.s. bill had not recently been quickened by the marriage of one of my daughters as a deceased wife's sister. i am, etc. [meantime the effect of eastbourne, which sir john donnelly had induced him to try, was indeed wonderful. he found in it the place he had so long been looking for. references to his health read very differently from those of previous years. he walked up beachy head regularly without suffering from any heart symptoms. and though beachy head was not the same thing as the alps, it made a very efficient substitute for a while, and it was not till april that the need of change began to make itself felt. and so he made up his mind to listen no more to the eager friends who wished him to pitch his tent near them at either end of surrey, but to settle down at eastbourne, and, by preference, to build a house of the size and on the spot that suited himself, rather than to take any existing house lower down in the town. he must have been a trifle irritated by unsolicited advice when he wrote the following:--] it is very odd that people won't give one credit for common sense. we have tried one winter here, and if we tried another we should be just as much dependent upon the experience of longer residents as ever we were. however, as i told x. i was going to settle matters to-morrow, there won't be any opportunity for discussing that topic when he comes. if we had taken w.'s house, somebody would have immediately told us that we had chosen the dampest site in winter and the stuffiest in summer, and where, moreover, the sewage has to be pumped up into the main drain. [he finally decided upon a site on the high ground near beachy head, a little way back from the sea front, at the corner of the staveley and buxton roads, with a guarantee from the duke of devonshire's agent that no house should be built at the contiguous end of the adjoining plot of land in the buxton road, a plot which he himself afterwards bought. the principal rooms were planned for the back of the house, looking south-west over open gardens to the long line of downs which culminate in beachy head, but with due provision against southerly gales and excess of sunshine. on may the builder's contract was accepted, and for the rest of the year the progress of the house, which was designed by his son-in-law, f.w. waller, afforded a constant interest. meantime, with the improvement in his general health, the old appetite for work returned with increased and unwonted zest. for the first time in his life he declares that he enjoyed the process of writing. as he wrote somewhat later to his newly married daughter from eastbourne, where he had gone again very weary the day after her wedding: "luckily the bishops and clergy won't let me alone, so i have been able to keep myself pretty well amused in replying." the work which came to him so easily and pleasurably was the defence of his attitude of agnosticism against the onslaught made upon it at the previous church congress by dr. wace, the principal of king's college, london, and followed up by articles in the "nineteenth century" from the pen of mr. frederic harrison and mr. laing, the effect of which upon him he describes to mr. knowles on december , :--] i have been stirred up to the boiling pitch by wace, laing, and harrison in re agnosticism, and i really can't keep the lid down any longer. are you minded to admit a goring article into the february "nineteenth"? [as for his health, he adds:--] i have amended wonderfully in the course of the last six weeks, and my doctor tells me i am going to be completely patched up--seams caulked and made seaworthy, so the old hulk may make another cruise. we shall see. at any rate i have been able and willing to write lately, and that is more than i can say for myself for the first three-quarters of the year. ...i was so pleased to see you were in trouble about your house. good for you to have a taste of it for yourself. [to this controversy he contributed four articles; three directly in defence of agnosticism, the fourth on the value of the underlying question of testimony to the miraculous. the first article, "agnosticism," appeared in the february number of the "nineteenth century". no sooner was this finished than he began a fresh piece of work, "which," he writes, "is all about miracles, and will be rather amusing." this, on the "value of testimony to the miraculous," appeared in the following number of the "nineteenth century". it did not form part of the controversy on hand, though it bore indirectly upon the first principles of agnosticism. the question at issue, he urges, is not the possibility of miracles, but the evidence to their occurrence, and if from preconceptions or ignorance the evidence be worthless the historical reality of the facts attested vanishes. the cardinal point, then, "is completely, as the author of robert elsmere says, the value of testimony." [the march number also contained replies from dr. wace and bishop magee on the main question, and an article by mrs. humphry ward on a kindred subject to his own, "the new reformation." of these he writes on february :--] the bishop and wace are hammering away in the "nineteenth". mrs. ward's article very good, and practically an answer to wace. won't i stir them up by and by. [and a few days later:--] mrs. ward's service consists in her very clear and clever exposition of critical results and methods. jevington gardens, eastbourne, february , . my dear knowles, i have just been delighted with mrs. ward's article. she has swept away the greater part of wace's sophistries as a dexterous and strong-wristed housemaid sweeps away cobwebs with her broom, and saved a lot of time. what in the world does the bishop mean by saying that i have called christianity "sorry stuff" (page )? to my knowledge i never so much as thought anything of the kind, let alone saying it. i shall challenge him very sharply about this, and if, as i believe, he has no justification for his statement, my opinion of him will be very considerably lowered. wace has given me a lovely opening by his profession of belief in the devils going into the swine. i rather hoped i should get this out of him. i find people are watching the game with great interest, and if it should be possible for me to give a little shove to the "new reformation," i shall think the fag end of my life well spent. after all, the reproach made to the english people that "they care for nothing but religion and politics" is rather to their credit. in the long run these are the two things that ought to interest a man more than any others. i have been much bothered with ear-ache lately, but if all goes well i will send you a screed by the middle of march. snowing hard! they have had more snow within the last month than they have known for ten years here. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [he set to work immediately, and within ten days despatched his second contribution, "agnosticism, a rejoinder," which appeared in the april number of the "nineteenth century". on march he writes:--] i am possessed by a writing demon, and have pretty well finished in the rough another article for knowles, whose mouth is wide open for it. [and on the th:--] i sent off another article to knowles last night--a regular facer for the clericals. you can't think how i enjoy writing now for the first time in my life. [he writes at greater length to mr. knowles] jevington gardens, eastbourne, march , . my dear knowles, there's a divinity that shapes the ends (of envelopes!) rough-hew them how we will. this time i went and bought the strongest to be had, and sealed him up with wax in the shop. i put no note inside, meaning to write to you afterwards, and then i forgot to do so. i can't understand peterborough nohow. however, so far as the weakness of the flesh would permit me to abstain from smiting him and his brother amalekite, i have tried to turn the tide of battle to matters of more importance. the pith of my article is the proposition that christ was not a christian. i have not ventured to state my thesis exactly in that form--fearing the editor--but, in a mild and proper way, i flatter myself i have demonstrated it. really, when i come to think of the claims made by orthodox christianity on the one hand, and of the total absence of foundation for them on the other, i find it hard to abstain from using a phrase which shocked me very much when strauss first applied it to the resurrection, "welthistorischer humbug!" i don't think i have ever seen the portrait you speak of. i remember the artist--a clever fellow, whose name, of course, i forget--but i do not think i saw his finished work. some of these days i will ask to see it. i was pretty well finished after the wedding, and bolted here the next day. i am sorry to say i could not get my wife to come with me. if she does not knock up i shall be pleasantly surprised. the young couple are flourishing in paris. i like what i have seen of him very much. what is the "cloister scheme"? [it referred to a plan for using the cloisters of westminster abbey to receive the monuments of distinguished men, so as to avoid the necessity of enlarging the abbey itself.] recollect how far away i am from the world, the flesh and the d--. are you and mrs. knowles going to imitate the example of eginhard and emma? what good pictures you will have in your monastery church! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [and again, a few days later:--] jevington gardens, eastbourne; march , . my dear knowles, i am sending my proof back to spottiswoode's. i did not think the manuscript would make so much, and i am afraid it has lengthened in the process of correction. you have a reader in your printer's office who provides me with jokes. last time he corrected, where my manuscript spoke of the pigs as unwilling "porters" of the devils, into "porkers." and this time, when i, writing about the lord's prayer, say "current formula," he has it "canting formula." if only peterborough had got hold of that! and i am capable of overlooking anything in a proof. you see we have got to big questions now, and if these are once fairly before the general mind all the king's horses and all the king's men won't put the orthodox humpty dumpty where he was before. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [after the article came out he wrote again to mr. knowles:--] marlborough place, n.w., april , . my dear knowles, i am going to try and stop here, desolate as the house is now all the chicks have flown, for the next fortnight. your talk of the inclemency of torquay is delightfully consoling. london has been vile. i am glad you are going to let wace have another "go." my object, as you know, in the whole business has been to rouse people to think... considering that i got named in the house of commons last night as an example of a temperate and well-behaved blasphemer, i think i am attaining my object. [in the debate upon the religious prosecutions abolition bill, mr. addison said "the last article by professor huxley in the "nineteenth century" showed that opinion was free when it was honestly expressed."--"times" april .] of course i go for a last word, and i am inclined to think that whatever wace may say, it may be best to get out of the region of controversy as far as possible and hammer in two big nails--( ) that the demonology of christianity shows that its founders knew no more about the spiritual world than anybody else, and ( ) that newman's doctrine of "development" is true to an extent of which the cardinal did not dream. i have been reading some of his works lately, and i understand now why kingsley accused him of growing dishonesty. after an hour or two of him i began to lose sight of the distinction between truth and falsehood. ever yours, t.h. huxley. if you are at home any day next week i will look in for a chat. [the controversy was completed by a third article, "agnosticism and christianity," in the june number of the "nineteenth century". there was a humorous aspect of this article which tickled his fancy immensely, for he drove home his previous arguments by means of an authority whom his adversaries could not neglect, though he was the last man they could have expected to see brought up against them in this connection--cardinal newman. there is no better evidence for ancient than for modern miracles, he says in effect; let us therefore accept the teachings of the church which maintains a continuous tradition on the subject. but there is a very different conclusion to be drawn from the same premises; all may be regarded as equally doubtful, and so he writes on may to sir j. hooker:--] by the way, i want you to enjoy my wind-up with wace in this month's "nineteenth" in the reading as much as i have in the writing. it's as full of malice [i.e. in the french sense of the word.] as an egg is full of meat, and my satisfaction in making newman my accomplice has been unutterable. that man is the slipperiest sophist i have ever met with. kingsley was entirely right about him. now for peace and quietness till after the next church congress! [three other letters to mr. knowles refer to this article.] marlborough place, n.w., may , . my dear knowles, i am at the end of my london tether, and we go to eastbourne ( jevington gardens again) on monday. i have been working hard to finish my paper, and shall send it to you before i go. i am astonished at its meekness. being reviled, i revile not; not an exception, i believe, can be taken to the wording of one of the venomous paragraphs in which the paper abounds. and i perceive the truth of a profound reflection i have often made, that reviling is often morally superior to not reviling. i give up peterborough. his "explanation" is neither straightforward, nor courteous, nor prudent. of which last fact, it may be, he will be convinced when he reads my acknowledgment of his favours, which is soft, not with the softness of the answer which turneth away wrath, but with that of the pillow which smothered desdemona. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i shall try to stand an hour or two of the academy dinner, and hope it won't knock me up. marlborough place, n.w., may , . my dear knowles, if i had not gone to the academy dinner i might have kept my promise about sending you my paper to-day. i indulged in no gastronomic indiscretions, and came away after h.r.h.'s speech, but i was dead beat all yesterday, nevertheless. we are off to eastbourne, and i will send the manuscript from there; there is very little to do. such a waste! i shall have to omit a paragraph that was really a masterpiece. for who should i come upon in one of the rooms but the bishop! as we shook hands, he asked whether that was before the fight or after; and i answered, "a little of both." then we spoke our minds pretty plainly; and then we agreed to bury the hatchet. [as he says ("collected essays" ), this chance meeting ended "a temporary misunderstanding with a man of rare ability, candour, and wit, for whom i entertained a great liking and no less respect."] so yesterday i tore up the paragraph. it was so appropriate i could not even save it up for somebody else! ever yours, t.h. huxley. jevington gardens, eastbourne, may , . my dear knowles, i sent back my proof last evening. i shall be in town friday afternoon to monday morning next, having a lot of things to do. so you may as well let me see a revise of the whole. did you not say to me, "sitting by a sea-coal fire" (i say nothing about a "parcel gilt goblet"), that this screed was to be the "last word"? i don't mind how long it goes on so long as i have the last word. but you must expect nothing from me for the next three or four months. we shall be off abroad, not later than the th june, and among the everlasting hills, a fico for your controversies! wace's paper shall be waste paper for me. oh! this is a "goak" which peterborough would not understand. i think you are right about the wine and water business--i had my doubts--but it was too tempting. all the teetotalers would have been on my side. there is no more curious example of the influence of education than the respect with which this poor bit of conjuring is regarded. your genuine pietist would find a mystical sense in thimblerig. i trust you have properly enjoyed the extracts from newman. that a man of his intellect should be brought down to the utterance of such drivel--by papistry, is one of the strongest of arguments against that damnable perverter of mankind, i know of. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [shortly afterwards, he received a long and rambling letter in connection with this subject. referring to the passage in the first article, "the apostolic injunction to 'suffer fools gladly' should be the rule of life of a true agnostic," the writer began by begging him "to 'suffer gladly' one fool more," and after several pages wound up with a variation of the same phrase. it being impossible to give any valid answer to his hypothetical inquiries, huxley could not resist the temptation to take the opening thus offered him, and replied:--] sir, i beg leave to acknowledge your letter. i have complied with the request preferred in its opening paragraph. faithfully yours, t.h. huxley. [the following letter also arises out of this controversy:-- its occasion (writes mr. taylor) was one which i had written on seeing an article in which he referred to the persian sect of the babis. i had read with much interest the account of it in count gobineau's book, and was much struck with the points of likeness to the foundation of christianity, and the contrast between the subsequent history of the two; i asked myself how, given the points of similarity, to account for the contrast; is it due to the divine within the one, or the human surroundings? this question i put to professor huxley, with many apologies for intruding on his leisure, and a special request that he would not suffer himself to be further troubled by any reply.] to mr. robert taylor. marlborough place, n.w., june , . sir, in looking through a mass of papers, before i leave england for some months among the mountains in search of health, i have come upon your letter of th march. as a rule i find that out of the innumerable letters addressed to me, the only ones i wish to answer are those the writers of which are considerate enough to ask that they may receive no reply, and yours is no exception. the question you put is very much to the purpose: a proper and full answer would take up many pages; but it will suffice to furnish the heads to be filled up by your own knowledge. . the church founded by jesus has not made its way; has not permeated the world--but did become extinct in the country of its birth--as nazarenism and ebionism. . the church that did make its way and coalesced with the state in the th century had no more to do with the church founded by jesus than ultramontanism has with quakerism. it is alexandrian judaism and neoplatonistic mystagogy, and as much of the old idolatry and demonology as could be got in under new or old names. . paul has said that the law was schoolmaster to christ with more truth than he knew. throughout the empire the synagogues had their cloud of gentile hangers-on--those who "feared god"--and who were fully prepared to accept a christianity which was merely an expurgated judaism and the belief in jesus as the messiah. . the christian "sodalitia" were not merely religious bodies, but friendly societies, burial societies, and guilds. they hung together for all purposes--the mob hated them as it now hates the jews in eastern europe, because they were more frugal, more industrious, and lived better lives than their neighbours, while they stuck together like scotchmen. if these things are so--and i appeal to your knowledge of history that they are so--what has the success of christianity to do with the truth or falsehood of the story of jesus? i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letter was written in reply to one from mr. clodd on the first of the articles in this controversy. this article, it must be remembered, not only replied to dr. wace's attack, but at the same time bantered mr. frederic harrison's pretensions on behalf of positivism at the expense alike of christianity and agnosticism.] jevington gardens, eastbourne, february , . my dear mr. clodd, i am very much obliged to you for your cheery and appreciative letter. if i do not empty all harrison's vials of wrath i shall be astonished! but of all the sickening humbugs in the world, the sham pietism of the positivists is to me the most offensive. i have long been wanting to say my say about these questions, but my hands were too full. this time last year i was so ill that i thought to myself, with hamlet, "the rest is silence." but my wiry constitution has unexpectedly weathered the storm, and i have every reason to believe that with renunciation of the devil and all his works (i.e. public speaking, dining and being dined, etc.) my faculties may be unimpaired for a good spell yet. and whether my lease is long or short, i mean to devote them to the work i began in the paper on the evolution of theology. you will see in the next "nineteenth" a paper on the evidence of miracles, which i think will be to your mind. hutton is beginning to drivel! there really is no other word for it. [this refers to an article in the "spectator" on "professor huxley and agnosticism," february , , which suggests, with regard to demoniac possession, that the old doctrine of one spirit driving out another is as good as any new explanation, and fortifies this conclusion by a reference to the phenomena of hypnotism.] ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [to the same:--] marlborough place, april , . my dear mr. clodd, the adventurous mr. c. wrote to me some time ago. i expressed my regret that i could do nothing for the evolution of tent-pegs. what wonderful people there are in the world! many thanks for calling my attention to "antiqua mater." i will look it up. i have such a rooted objection to returning books, that i never borrow one or allow anybody to lend me one if i can help it. i hear that wace is to have another innings, and i am very glad of it, as it will give me the opportunity of putting the case once more as a connected argument. it is baur's great merit to have seen that the key to the problem of christianity lies in the epistle to the galatians. no doubt he and his followers rather overdid the thing, but that is always the way with those who take up a new idea. i have had for some time the notion of dealing with the "three great myths"-- . creation; . fall; . deluge; but i suspect i am getting to the end of my tether physically, and shall have to start for the engadine in another month's time. many thanks for your congratulations about my daughter's marriage. no two people could be better suited for one another, and there is a charming little grand-daughter of the first marriage to be cared for. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [one more piece of writing dates from this time. he writes to his wife on march :--] a man who is bringing out a series of portraits of celebrities, with a sketch of their career attached, has bothered me out of my life for something to go with my portrait, and to escape the abominable bad taste of some of the notices, i have done that. i shall show it you before it goes back to engel in proof. this sketch of his life is the brief autobiography which is printed at the beginning of volume of the "collected essays". he was often pressed, both by friends and by strangers, to give them some more autobiography; but moved either by dislike of any approach to egotism, or by the knowledge that if biography is liable to give a false impression, autobiography may leave one still more false, he constantly refused to do so, especially so long as he had capacity for useful work. i found, however, among his papers, an entirely different sketch of his early life, half-a-dozen sheets describing the time he spent in the east end, with an almost carlylean sense of the horrible disproportions of life. i cannot tell whether this was a first draft for the present autobiography, or the beginnings of a larger undertaking. several letters of miscellaneous interest were written before the move to the engadine took place. they touch on such points as the excessive growth of scientific clubs, the use of alcohol for brain workers, advice to one who was not likely to "suffer fools gladly" about applying for the assistant secretaryship of the british association, and the question of the effects of the destruction of immature fish, besides personal matters.] jevington gardens, eastbourne, march , . my dear hooker, i suppose the question of amalgamation with the royal is to be discussed at the phil. club. the sooner something of the kind takes place the better. there is really no raison d'etre left for the phil. club, and considering the hard work of scientific men in these days, clubs are like hypotheses, not to be multiplied beyond necessity. ever yours, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, march , . my dear hooker, the only science to which x. has contributed, so far as i know, is the science of self-advertisement; and of that he is a master. when you and i were youngsters, we thought it the great thing to exorcise the aristocratic flunkeyism which reigned in the royal society--the danger now is that of the entry of seven devils worse than the first, in the shape of rich engineers, chemical traders, and "experts" (who have sold their souls for a good price), and who find it helps them to appear to the public as if they were men of science. if the phil club had kept pure, it might have acted as a check upon the intrusion of the mere trading element. but there seems to be no reason now against jack and tom and harry getting in, and the thing has become an imposture. so i go with you for extinction, before we begin to drag in the mud. i wish i could take some more active part in what is going on. i am anxious about the society altogether. but though i am wonderfully well so long as i live like a hermit, and get out into the air of the downs, either london, or bother, and still more both combined, intimate respectfully but firmly, that my margin is of the narrowest. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the following is to his daughter in paris. of course it was the tuileries, not the louvre, which was destroyed in .] i think you are quite right about french women. they are like french dishes, uncommonly well cooked and sent up, but what the dickens they are made of is a mystery. not but what all womenkind are mysteries, but there are mysteries of godliness and mysteries of iniquity. have you been to see the sculptures in the louvre?--dear me, i forgot the louvre's fate. i wonder where the sculpture is? i used to think it the best thing in the way of art in paris. there was a youthful bacchus who was the main support of my thesis as to the greater beauty of the male figure! probably i had better conclude. to mr. e.t. collings (of bolton). marlborough place, april , . dear sir, i understand that you ask me what i think about "alcohol as a stimulant to the brain in mental work"? speaking for myself (and perhaps i may add for persons of my temperament), i can say, without hesitation, that i would just as soon take a dose of arsenic as i would of alcohol, under such circumstances. indeed on the whole, i should think the arsenic safer, less likely to lead to physical and moral degradation. it would be better to die outright than to be alcoholised before death. if a man cannot do brain work without stimulants of any kind, he had better turn to hand work--it is an indication on nature's part that she did not mean him to be a head worker. the circumstances of my life have led me to experience all sorts of conditions in regard to alcohol, from total abstinence to nearly the other end of the scale, and my clear conviction is the less the better, though i by no means feel called upon to forgo the comforting and cheering effect of a little. but for no conceivable consideration would i use it to whip up a tired or sluggish brain. indeed, for me there is no working time so good as between breakfast and lunch, when there is not a trace of alcohol in my composition. marlborough place, may , . my dear hooker, i meant to have turned up at the x on thursday, but i was unwell and, moreover, worried and bothered about collier's illness at venice, and awaiting an answer to a telegram i sent there. he has contrived to get scarlatina, but i hope he will get safe through it, as he seems to be going on well. we were getting ready to go out until we were reassured on that point. i thought i would go to the academy dinner on saturday, and that if i did not eat and drink and came away early, i might venture. it was pleasant enough to have a glimpse of the world, the flesh (on the walls, nude!), and the devil (there were several bishops), but oh, dear! how done i was yesterday. however, we are off to eastbourne to-day, and i hope to wash three weeks' london out of me before long. i think we shall go to maloja again early in june. ever yours, t.h. huxley. capital portrait in the new gallery, where i looked in for a quarter of an hour on saturday--only you never were quite so fat in the cheeks, and i don't believe you have got such a splendid fur-coat! jevington gardens, eastbourne, may , . ...as to the assistant secretaryship of the british association, i have turned it over a great deal in my mind since your letter reached me, and i really cannot convince myself that you would suit it or it would suit you. i have not heard who are candidates or anything about it, and i am not going to take any part in the election. but looking at the thing solely from the point of view of your interests, i should strongly advise you against taking it, even if it were offered. my pet aphorism "suffer fools gladly" should be the guide of the assistant secretary, who, during the fortnight of his activity, has more little vanities and rivalries to smooth over and conciliate than other people meet with in a lifetime. now you do not "suffer fools gladly" on the contrary, you "gladly make fools suffer." i do not say you are wrong--no tu quoque [cf. above. but for due cause he could suffer them "with a difference"; of a certain caller he writes: "what an effusive bore he is! but i believe he was very kind to poor clifford, and restrained my unregenerate impatience of that kind of creature."]--but that is where the danger of the explosion lies--not in regard to the larger business of the association. the risk is great and the pounds a year is not worth it. foster knows all about the place; ask him if i am not right. many thanks for the suggestion about spirula. but the matter is in a state in which no one can be of any use but myself. at present i am at the end of my tether and i mean to be off to the engadine a fortnight hence--most likely not to return before october. not even the sweet voice of -- will lure me from my retirement. the academy dinner knocked me up for three days, though i drank no wine, ate very little, and vanished after the prince of wales' speech. the truth is i have very little margin of strength to go upon even now, though i am marvellously better than i was. i am very glad that you see the importance of doing battle with the clericals. i am astounded at the narrowness of view of many of our colleagues on this point. they shut their eyes to the obstacles which clericalism raises in every direction against scientific ways of thinking, which are even more important than scientific discoveries. i desire that the next generation may be less fettered by the gross and stupid superstitions of orthodoxy than mine has been. and i shall be well satisfied if i can succeed to however small an extent in bringing about that result. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. marlborough place, may , . my dear lankester, i cannot attend the council meeting on the th. i have a meeting of the trustees of the british museum to-day, and to be examined by a committee on monday, and as the sudden heat half kills me i shall be fit for nothing but to slink off to eastbourne again. however, i do hope the council will be very careful what they say or do about the immature fish question. the thing has been discussed over and over again ad nauseam, and i doubt if there is anything to be added to the evidence in the blue-books. the idee fixe of the british public, fishermen, m.p.'s and ignorant persons generally is that all small fish, if you do not catch them, grow up into big fish. they cannot be got to understand that the wholesale destruction of the immature is the necessary part of the general order of things, from codfish to men. you seem to have some very interesting things to talk about at the royal institution. do you see any chance of educating the white corpuscles of the human race to destroy the theological bacteria which are bred in parsons? ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. jevington gardens, eastbourne, may , . my dear donnelly, the vice-president's letter has brought home to me one thing very clearly, and that is, that i had no business to sign the report. of course he has a right to hold me responsible for a document to which my name is attached, and i should look more like a fool than i ever wish to do, if i had to tell him that i had taken the thing entirely on trust. i have always objected to the sleeping partnership in the examination; and unless it can be made quite clear that i am nothing but a "consulting doctor," i really must get out of it entirely. of course i cannot say whether the report is justified by the facts or not, when i do not know anything about them. but from my experience of what the state of things used to be, i should say that it is, in all probability, fair. the faults mentioned are exactly those which always have made their appearance, and i expect always will do so, and i do not see why the attention of the teachers should not as constantly be directed to them. you talk of eton. well, the reports of the examiners to the governing body, year after year, had the same unpleasing monotony, and i do not believe that there is any educational body, from the universities downwards, which would come out much better, if the examiners' reports were published and if they did their duty. i am unable to see my way (and i suppose you are) to any better method of state encouragement of science teaching than payment by results. the great and manifest evil of that system, however, is the steady pressure which it exerts in the development of every description of sham teaching. and the only check upon this kind of swindling the public seems to me to lie in the hands of the examiners. i told mr. forster so, ages ago, when he talked to me about the gradual increase of the expenditure, and i have been confirmed in my opinion by all subsequent experience. what the people who read the reports may say, i should not care one twopenny d-- if i had to administer the thing. nine out of ten of them are incompetent to form any opinion on an educational subject; and as a mere matter of policy, i should, in dealing with them, be only too glad to be able to make it clear that some of the defects and shortcomings inherent in this (as in all systems) had been disguised, and that even the most fractious of examiners had said their say without let or hindrance. it is the nature of the system which seems to me to demand as a corrective incessant and severe watchfulness on the part of the examiners, and i see no harm if they a little overdo the thing in this direction, for every sham they let through is an encouragement to other shams and pot-teaching in general. and if the "great heart" of the people and its thick head can't be got to appreciate honesty, why the sooner we shut up the better. ireland may be for the irish, but science teaching is not for the sake of science teachers. ever yours, t.h. huxley. chapter . . - . from the middle of june to the middle of september, huxley was in switzerland, first at monte generoso, then, when the weather became more settled, at the maloja. here, as his letters show, he "rejuvenated" to such an extent that sir henry thompson, who was at the maloja, scoffed at the idea of his ever having had dilated heart.] monte generoso, tessin, suisse, june , . my dear hooker, i am quite agreed with the proposed arrangements for the x, and hope i shall show better in the register of attendance next session. when i am striding about the hills here i really feel as if my invalidism were a mere piece of malingering. when i am well i can walk up hill and down dale as well as i did twenty years ago. but my margin is abominably narrow, and i am at the mercy of "liver and lights." sitting up for long and dining are questions of margin. i do not know if you have been here. we are close on feet up and look straight over the great plain of north italy on the one side and to a great hemicycle of mountains, monte rosa among them, on the other. i do not know anything more beautiful in its way. but the whole time we have been here the weather has been extraordinary. on the average, about two thunderstorms per diem. i am sure that a good meteorologist might study the place with advantage. the barometer has not varied three-twentieths of an inch the whole time, notwithstanding the storms. i hear the weather has been bad all over switzerland, but it is not high and dry enough for me here, and we shall be off to the maloja on saturday next, and shall stay there till we return somewhere in september. collier and ethel will join us there in august. he is none the worse for his scarlatina. "aged botanist?" marry come up! [sir j. hooker jestingly congratulated him on taking up botany in his old age.] i should like to know of a younger spark. the first time i heard myself called "the old gentleman" was years ago when we were in south devon. a half-drunken devonian had made himself very offensive, in the compartment in which my wife and i were travelling, and got some "simple saxon" from me, accompanied, i doubt not, by an awful scowl "ain't the old gentleman in a rage," says he. i am very glad to hear of reggie's success, and my wife joins with me in congratulations. it is a comfort to see one's shoots planted out and taking root, though the idea that one's cares and anxieties about them are diminished, we find to be an illusion. i inclose cheque for my contributions due and to come. [for the x club.] if i go to davy's locker before october, the latter may go for consolation champagne! ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [he writes from the maloja on august to sir m. foster, who had been sitting on the vaccination commission:--] i wonder how you are prospering, whether you have vaccination or anti-vaccination on the brain; or whether the gods have prospered you so far as to send you on a holiday. we have been here since the beginning of july. monte generoso proved lovely--but electrical. we had on the average three thunderstorms every two days. bellagio was as hot as the tropics, and we stayed only a day, and came on here--where, whatever else may happen, it is never too hot. the weather has been good and i have profited immensely, and at present i do not know whether i have a heart or not. but i have to look very sharp after my liver. h. thompson, who has been here with his son herbert (clever fellow, by the way), treats the notion that i ever had a dilated heart with scorn! oh these doctors! they are worse than theologians. [and again on august :--] i walked eighteen miles three or four days ago, and i think nothing of one or two thousand feet up! i hope this state of things will last at the sea-level. i am always glad to hear of and from you, but i have not been idle long enough to forget what being busy means, so don't let your conscience worry you about answering my letters. ...x. is, i am afraid, more or less of an ass. the opposition he and his friends have been making to the technical bill is quite unintelligible to me. y. may be, and i rather think is, a knave, but he is no fool; and if i mistake not he is minded to kick the ultra-radical stool down now that he has mounted by it. make friends of that mammon of unrighteousness and swamp the sentimentalists. ...i despise your insinuations. all my friends here have been theological--bishop, chief rabbi, and catholic professor. none of your maybrick discussors. on june he wrote to professor ray lankester, enclosing a letter to be read at a meeting called by the lord mayor, on july , to hear statements from men of science with regard to the recent increase of rabies in this country, and the efficiency of the treatment discovered by m. pasteur for the prevention of hydrophobia. [i quote the latter from the report in "nature" for july :--] monte generoso, tessin, suisse, june , . my dear lankester, i enclose herewith a letter for the lord mayor and a cheque for pounds as my subscription. i wish i could make the letter shorter, but it is pretty much "pemmican" already. however, it does not much matter being read if it only gets into print. it is uncommonly good of the lord mayor to stand up for science, in the teeth of the row the anti-vivisection pack--dogs and doggesses--are making. may his shadow never be less. we shall be off to the maloja at the end of this week, if the weather mends. thunderstorms here every day, and sometimes two or three a day for the last ten days. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. monte generoso, switzerland, june , . my lord mayor, i greatly regret my inability to be present at the meeting which is to be held, under your lordship's auspices, in reference to m. pasteur and his institute. the unremitting labours of that eminent frenchman during the last half-century have yielded rich harvests of new truths, and are models of exact and refined research. as such they deserve, and have received, all the honours which those who are the best judges of their purely scientific merits are able to bestow. but it so happens that these subtle and patient searchings out of the ways of the infinitely little--of the swarming life where the creature that measures one-thousandth part of an inch is a giant--have also yielded results of supreme practical importance. the path of m. pasteur's investigations is strewed with gifts of vast monetary value to the silk trades, the brewer, and the wine merchant. and this being so, it might well be a proper and graceful act on the part of the representatives of trade and commerce in its greatest centre to make some public recognition of m. pasteur's services, even if there were nothing further to be said about them. but there is much more to be said. m. pasteur's direct and indirect contributions to our knowledge of the causes of diseased states, and of the means of preventing their recurrence, are not measurable by money values, but by those of healthy life and diminished suffering to men. medicine, surgery, and hygiene have all been powerfully affected by m. pasteur's work, which has culminated in his method of treating hydrophobia. i cannot conceive that any competently instructed person can consider m. pasteur's labours in this direction without arriving at the conclusion that, if any man has earned the praise and honour of his fellows, he has. i find it no less difficult to imagine that our wealthy country should be other than ashamed to continue to allow its citizens to profit by the treatment freely given at the institute without contributing to its support. opposition to the proposals which your lordship sanctions would be equally inconceivable if it arose out of nothing but the facts of the case thus presented. but the opposition which, as i see from the english papers, is threatened has really for the most part nothing to do either with m. pasteur's merits or with the efficacy of his method of treating hydrophobia. it proceeds partly from the fanatics of laissez faire, who think it better to rot and die than to be kept whole and lively by state interference, partly from the blind opponents of properly conducted physiological experimentation, who prefer that men should suffer than rabbits or dogs, and partly from those who for other but not less powerful motives hate everything which contributes to prove the value of strictly scientific methods of enquiry in all those questions which affect the welfare of society. i sincerely trust that the good sense of the meeting over which your lordship will preside will preserve it from being influenced by those unworthy antagonisms, and that the just and benevolent enterprise you have undertaken may have a happy issue. i am, my lord mayor, your obedient servant, t.h. huxley. hotel kursaal, maloja, haute engadine, july , . my dear lankester, many thanks for your letter. i was rather anxious as to the result of the meeting, knowing the malice and subtlety of the philistines, but as it turned out they were effectually snubbed. i was glad to see your allusion to coleridge's impertinences. it will teach him to think twice before he abuses his position again. i do not understand stead's position in the pall mall. he snarls but does not bite. i am glad that the audience (i judge from the "times" report) seemed to take the points of my letter, and live in hope that when i see last week's "spectator" i shall find hutton frantic. this morning a letter marked "immediate" reached me from bourne, date july . i am afraid he does not read the papers or he would have known it was of no use to appeal to me in an emergency. i am writing to him. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [on his return to england, however, a fortnight of london, interrupted though it was by a brief visit to mr. and mrs. humphry ward at the delightful old house of great hampden, was as much as he could stand. "i begin to discover," he writes to sir m. foster, "i have a heart again, a circumstance of which i had no reminder at the maloja." so he retreated at once to eastbourne, which had done him so much good before.] marlborough place, september , . my dear hooker, how's a' wi' ye'? we came back from the engadine early in the month, and are off to eastbourne to-morrow. i rejuvenate in switzerland and senescate (if there is no such verb, there ought to be) in london, and the sooner i am out of it the better. when are you going to have an x? i cannot make out what has become of spencer, except that he is somewhere in scotland. ever yours, t.h. huxley. we shall be at our old quarters-- jevington gardens, eastbourne--from to-morrow onwards. [the next letter shows once more the value he set upon botanical evidence in the question of the influence of conditions in the process of evolution.] jevington gardens, eastbourne, september , . my dear hooker, i hope to be with you at the athenaeum on thursday. it does one good to hear of your being in such good working order. my knowledge of orchids is infinitesimally small, but there were some eight or nine species plentiful in the engadine, and i learned enough to appreciate the difficulties. why do not some of these people who talk about the direct influence of conditions try to explain the structure of orchids on that tack? orchids at any rate can't try to improve themselves in taking shots at insects' heads with pollen bags--as lamarck's giraffes tried to stretch their necks! balfour's ballon d'essai [i.e. touching a proposed roman catholic university for ireland.] (i do not believe it could have been anything more) is the only big blunder he has made, and it passes my comprehension why he should have made it. but he seems to have dropped it again like the proverbial hot potato. if he had not, he would have hopelessly destroyed the unionist party. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [at the end of the year he thanks lord tennyson for his gift of "demeter":--] december , . my dear tennyson, accept my best thanks for your very kind present of "demeter." i have not had a christmas box i valued so much for many a long year. i envy your vigour, and am ashamed of myself beside you for being turned out to grass. i kick up my heels now and then, and have a gallop round the paddock, but it does not come to much. with best wishes to you, and, if lady tennyson has not forgotten me altogether, to her also. believe me, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a discussion in the "times" this autumn, in which he joined, was of unexpected moment to him, inasmuch as it was the starting-point for no fewer than four essays in political philosophy, which appeared the following year in the "nineteenth century". the correspondence referred to arose out of the heckling of mr. john morley by one of his constituents at newcastle in november . the heckler questioned him concerning private property in land, quoting some early dicta from the "social statics" of mr. herbert spencer, which denied the justice of such ownership. comments and explanations ensued in the "times"; mr. spencer declared that he had since partly altered that view, showing that contract has in part superseded force as the ground of ownership; and that in any case it referred to the idea of absolute ethics, and not to relative or practical politics. huxley entered first into the correspondence to point out present and perilous applications of the absolute in contemporary politics. touching on a state guarantee of the title to land, he asks if there is any moral right for confiscation:--in ireland, he says, confiscation is justified by the appeal to wrongs inflicted a century ago; in england the theorems of "absolute political ethics" are in danger of being employed to make this generation of land-owners responsible for the misdeeds of william the conqueror and his followers. ("times" november .) his remaining share in the discussion consisted of a brief passage of arms with mr. spencer on the main question [november .], and a reply to another correspondent [november .], which brings forward an argument enlarged upon in one of the essays, namely that if the land belongs to all men equally, why should one nation claim one portion rather than another? for several ownership is just as much an infringement of the world's ownership as is personal ownership. moreover, history shows that land was originally held in several ownership, and that not of the nation, but of the village community. these signs of renewed vigour induced mr. knowles to write him a "begging letter," proposing an article for the "nineteenth century" either in commendation of bishop magee's recent utterances--it would be fine for eulogy to come from such a quarter after the recent encounter--or on the general subject of which his "times" letters dealt with a part. huxley's choice was for the latter. writing on november , he says:--] now as to the article. i have only hesitated because i want to get out a new volume of essays, and i am writing an introduction which gives me an immensity of trouble. i had made up my mind to get it done by christmas, and if i write for you it won't be. however, if you don't mind leaving it open till the end of this month, i will see what can he done in the way of a screed about, say, "the absolute in practical life." the bishop would come in excellently; he deserves all praises, and my only hesitation about singing them is that the conjunction between the "infidel" and the churchman is just what the blatant platform dissenters who had been at him would like. i don't want to serve the bishop, for whom i have a great liking and respect, as the bear served his sleeping master, when he smashed his nose in driving an unfortunate fly away! by the way, has the bishop published his speech or sermon? i have only seen a newspaper report. [soon after this, he proposed to come to town and talk over the article with mr. knowles. the latter sent him a telegram--reply paid--asking him to fix a day. the answer named a day of the week and a day of the month which did not agree; whereupon mr. knowles wrote by the safer medium of the post for an explanation, thinking that the post-office clerks must have bungled the message, and received the following reply:--] jevington gardens, eastbourne, november , . my dear knowles, may jackasses sit upon the graves of all telegraph clerks! but the boys are worse, and i shall have to write to the postmaster-general about the little wretch who brought your telegram the other day, when my mind was deeply absorbed in the concoction of an article for the review of our age. the creature read my answer, for he made me pay three halfpence extra (i believe he spent it on toffy), and yet was so stupid as not to see that meaning to fix next monday or tuesday, i opened my diary to give the dates in order that there should be no mistake, and found monday and tuesday . and i suppose the little beast would say he did not know i opened it in october instead of november! i hate such mean ways. hang all telegraph boys! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. monday december , if you have nothing against it, and lunch if mrs. knowles will give me some. [the article was finished by the middle of december and duly sent to the editor, under the title of "rousseau and rousseauism." but fearing that this title would surely attract attention among the working-men for whom it was specially designed, mr. knowles suggested instead the "natural inequality of men," under which name it actually appeared in january. so, too, in the case of a companion article in march, the editorial pen was responsible for the change from the arid possibilities of "capital and labour" to the more attractive title of "capital the mother of labour." with regard to this article and a further project of extending his discussion of the subject, he writes:--] jevington gardens, eastbourne, december , . my dear knowles, i am very glad you think the article will go. it is longer than i intended, but i cannot accuse myself of having wasted words, and i have left out several things that might have been said, but which can come in by and by. as to title, do as you like, but that you propose does not seem to me quite to hit the mark. "political humbug: liberty and equality," struck me as adequate, but my wife declares it is improper. "political fictions" might be supposed to refer to dizzie's novels! how about "the politics of the imagination: liberty and inequality"? i should like to have some general title that would do for the "letters" which i see i shall have to write. i think i will make six of them after the fashion of my "working men's lectures," as thus: ( ) liberty and equality; ( ) rights of man; ( ) property; ( ) malthus; ( ) government, the province of the state; ( ) law-making and law-breaking. i understand you will let me republish them, as soon as the last is out, in a cheap form. i am not sure i will not put them in the form of "lectures" rather than "letters." did you ever read henry george's book "progress and poverty"? it is more damneder nonsense than poor rousseau's blether. and to think of the popularity of the book! but i ought to be grateful, as i can cut and come again at this wonderful dish. the mischief of it is i do not see how i am to finish the introduction to my essays, unless i put off sending you a second dose until march. i will send back the revise as quickly as possible. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. you do not tell me that there is anything to which spencer can object, so i suppose there is nothing. [and in an undated letter to sir j. hooker, he says:--] i am glad you think well of the "human inequality" paper. my wife has persuaded me to follow it up with a view to making a sort of "primer of politics" for the masses--by and by. "there's no telling what you may come to, my boy," said the bishop who reproved his son for staring at john kemble, and i may be a pamphleteer yet! but really it is time that somebody should treat the people to common sense. [however, immediately after the appearance of this first article on human inequality, he changed his mind about the letters to working men, and resolved to continue what he had to say in the form of essays in the "nineteenth century". he then judged it not unprofitable to call public attention to the fallacies which first found their way into practical politics through the disciples of rousseau; one of those speculators of whom he remarks ("collected essays" ) that] "busied with deduction from their ideal 'ought to be,' they overlooked the 'what has been,' the 'what is,' and the 'what can be.'" "many a long year ago," [he says in natural rights and political rights ( )], "i fondly imagined that hume and kant and hamilton having slain the 'absolute,' the thing must, in decency, decease. yet, at the present time, the same hypostatised negation, sometimes thinly disguised under a new name, goes about in broad daylight, in company with the dogmas of absolute ethics, political and other, and seems to be as lively as ever." this was to his mind one of those instances of wrong thinking which lead to wrong acting--the postulating a general principle based upon insufficient data, and the deduction from it of many and far-reaching practical consequences. this he had always strongly opposed. his essay of , "administrative nihilism," was directed against a priori individualism; and now he proceeded to restate the arguments against a priori political reasoning in general, which seemed to have been forgotten or overlooked, especially by the advocates of compulsory socialism. and here it is possible to show in some detail the care he took, as was his way, to refresh his knowledge and bring it up to date, before writing on any special point. it is interesting to see how thoroughly he went to work, even in a subject with which he was already fairly acquainted. as in the controversy of i find a list of near a score of books consulted, so here one note-book contains an analysis of the origin and early course of the french revolution, especially in relation to the speculations of the theorists; the declaration of the rights of man in is followed by parallels from mably's "droits et devoirs du citoyen" and "de la legislation", and by a full transcript of the declaration, with notes on robespierre's speech at the convention a fortnight later. there are copious notes from dunoyer, who is quoted in the article, while the references to rocquain's "esprit revolutionnaire" led to an english translation of the work being undertaken, to which he contributed a short preface in . it was the same with other studies. he loved to visualise his object clearly. the framework of what he wished to say would always be drawn out first. in any historical matter he always worked with a map. in natural history he well knew the importance of studying distribution and its bearing upon other problems; in civil history he would draw maps to illustrate either the conditions of a period or the spread of a civilising nation. for instance, among sketches of the sort which remain, i have one of the hellenic world, marked off in -mile circles from delos as centre; and a similar one for the phoenician world, starting from tyre. sketch maps of palestine and mesopotamia, with notes from the best authorities on the geography of the two countries, belong in all probability to the articles on "the flood" and "hasisadra's adventure." to realise clearly the size, position, and relation of the parts to the whole, was the mechanical instinct of the engineer which was so strong in him. the four articles which followed in quick succession on "the natural inequality of man," "natural and political rights," "capital the mother of labour," and "government," appeared in the january, february, march, and may numbers of the "nineteenth century", and, as was said above, are directed against a priori reasoning in social philosophy. the first, which appeared simultaneously with mr. herbert spencer's article on "justice," in the "nineteenth century", assails, on the ground of fact and history, the dictum that men are born free and equal, and have a natural right to freedom and equality, so that property and political rights are a matter of contract. history denies that they thus originated; and, in fact, "proclaim human equality as loudly as you like, witless will serve his brother." yet, in justice to rousseau and the influence he wielded, he adds:--] it is not to be forgotten that what we call rational grounds for our beliefs are often extremely irrational attempts to justify our instincts. thus if, in their plain and obvious sense, the doctrines which rousseau advanced are so easily upset, it is probable that he had in his mind something which is different from that sense. [when they sought speculative grounds to justify the empirical truth:--] that it is desirable in the interests of society, that all men should be as free as possible, consistently with those interests, and that they should all be equally bound by the ethical and legal obligations which are essential to social existence, "the philosophers," as is the fashion of speculators, scorned to remain on the safe if humble ground of experience, and preferred to prophesy from the sublime cloudland of the a priori. [the second of these articles is an examination of henry george's doctrines as set forth in "progress and poverty". his relation to the physiocrats is shown in a preliminary analysis of the term "natural rights which have no wrongs," and are antecedent to morality, from which analysis are drawn the results of confounding natural with moral rights. here again is the note of justice to an argument in an unsound shape (page ): "there is no greater mistake than the hasty conclusion that opinions are worthless because they are badly argued." and a trifling abatement of the universal and exclusive form of henry george's principle may make it true, while even unamended it may lead to opposite conclusions--to the justification of several ownership in land as well as in any other form of property. the third essay of the series, "capital the mother of labour" ("collected essays" ), was an application of biological methods to social problems, designed to show that the extreme claims of labour as against capital are ill-founded. in the last article, "government," he traces the two extreme developments of absolute ethics, as shown in anarchy and regimentation, or unrestrained individualism and compulsory socialism. the key to the position, of course, lies in the examination of the premisses upon which these superstructures are raised, and history shows that:--] so far from the preservation of liberty and property and the securing of equal rights being the chief and most conspicuous object aimed at by the archaic politics of which we know anything, it would be a good deal nearer the truth to say that they were federated absolute monarchies, the chief purpose of which was the maintenance of an established church for the worship of the family ancestors. [these articles stirred up critics of every sort and kind; socialists who denounced him as an individualist, land nationalisers who had not realised the difference between communal and national ownership, or men who denounced him as an arm-chair cynic, careless of the poor and ignorant of the meaning of labour. mr. spencer considered the chief attack to be directed against his position; the regimental socialists as against theirs, and:--] as an attempt to justify those who, content with the present, are opposed to all endeavours to bring about any fundamental change in our social arrangements (ib. page ). so far from this, he continues:--] those who have had the patience to follow me to the end will, i trust, have become aware that my aim has been altogether different. even the best of modern civilisations appears to me to exhibit a condition of mankind which neither embodies any worthy ideal nor even possesses the merit of stability. i do not hesitate to express my opinion that, if there is no hope of a large improvement of the condition of the greater part of the human family; if it is true that the increase of knowledge, the winning of a greater dominion over nature which is its consequence, and the wealth which follows upon that dominion, are to make no difference in the extent and the intensity of want, with its concomitant physical and moral degradation, among the masses of the people, i should hail the advent of some kindly comet, which would sweep the whole affair away, as a desirable consummation. what profits it to the human prometheus that he has stolen the fire of heaven to be his servant, and that the spirits of the earth and of the air obey him, if the vulture of pauperism is eternally to tear his very vitals and keep him on the brink of destruction? assuredly, if i believed that any of the schemes hitherto proposed for bringing about social amelioration were likely to attain their end, i should think what remains to me of life well spent in furthering it. but my interest in these questions did not begin the day before yesterday; and, whether right or wrong, it is no hasty conclusion of mine that we have small chance of doing rightly in this matter (or indeed in any other) unless we think rightly. further, that we shall never think rightly in politics until we have cleared our minds of delusions, and more especially of the philosophical delusions which, as i have endeavoured to show, have infested political thought for centuries. my main purpose has been to contribute my mite towards this essential preliminary operation. ground must be cleared and levelled before a building can be properly commenced; the labour of the navvy is as necessary as that of the architect, however much less honoured; and it has been my humble endeavour to grub up those old stumps of the a priori which stand in the way of the very foundations of a sane political philosophy. to those who think that questions of the kind i have been discussing have merely an academic interest, let me suggest once more that a century ago robespierre and st. just proved that the way of answering them may have extremely practical consequences. [without pretending to offer any offhand solution for so vast a problem, he suggests two points in conclusion. one, that in considering the matter we should proceed from the known to the unknown, and take warning from the results of either extreme in self-government or the government of a family; the other, that the central point is] "the fact that the natural order of things--the order, that is to say, as unmodified by human effort--does not tend to bring about what we understand as welfare." [the population question has first to be faced. the following letters cover the period up to the trip to the canaries, already alluded to:--] jevington gardens, eastbourne, january , . my dear foster, that capital photograph reached me just as we were going up to town (invited for the holidays by our parents), and i put it in my bag to remind me to write to you. need i say that i brought it back again without having had the grace to send a line of thanks? by way of making my peace, i have told the fine art society to send you a copy of the engraving of my sweet self. i have not had it framed--firstly, because it is a hideous nuisance to be obliged to hang a frame one may not like; and secondly, because by possibility you might like some other portrait better, in which case, if you will tell me, i will send that other. i should like you to have something by way of reminder of t.h.h. when harry [his younger son.] has done his work at bart's at the end of march i am going to give him a run before he settles down to practice. probably we shall go to the canaries. i hear that the man who knows most about them is dr. guillemard, a cambridge man. "kennst ihn du wohl?" perhaps he might give me a wrinkle. with our united best wishes to you all. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. eastbourne, january , . my dear hooker, we missed you on the nd, though you were quite right not to come in that beastly weather. my boy harry has had a very sharp attack of influenza at bartholomew's, and came down to us to convalesce a week ago, very much pulled down. i hope you will keep clear of it. harry's work at the hospital is over at the end of march, and before the influenza business i was going to give him a run for a month or six weeks before he settled down to practice. we shall go to the canaries as soon in april as possible. are you minded to take a look at teneriffe? only / days' sea--good ships. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [however, sir j. hooker was unable to join "the excursion to the isles of the blest."] eastbourne, january , . my dear foster, people have been at me to publish my notice of darwin in the "proceedings of the royal society" in a separate form. if you have no objection, will you apply to the council for me for the requisite permission? but if you do see any objection, i would rather not make the request. i think if i republish it i will add the "times" article of to it. omega and alpha! hope you are flourishing. we shall be up for a few days next week. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. eastbourne, january , . my dear foster, mind you let me know what points you think want expanding in the darwin obituary when we meet. we go to town on tuesday for a few days, and i will meet you anywhere or anywhen you like. could you come and dine with us at p.m. on thursday? if so, please let me know at once, that e. may kill the fatted calf. harry has been and gone and done it. we heard he had gone to yorkshire, and were anxious, thinking that at the very least a relapse after his influenza (which he had sharply) had occurred. but the complaint was one with more serious sequelae still. don't know the young lady, but the youth has a wise head on his shoulders, and though that did not prevent solomon from overdoing the business, i have every faith in his choice. dr. guillemard has kindly sent me a lot of valuable information; but as i suggested to my boy yesterday, he may find yorkshire air more wholesome than that of the canaries, and it is ten to one we don't go after all. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [to his younger son:--] eastbourne, january , . you dear old humbug of a boy, here we have been mourning over the relapse of influenza, which alone, as we said, could have torn you from your duties, and all the while it was nothing but an attack of palpitation such as young people are liable to and seem none the worse for after all. we are as happy that you are happy as you can be yourself, though from your letter that seems saying a great deal. i am prepared to be the young lady's slave; pray tell her that i am a model father-in-law, with my love. (by the way, you might mention her name; it is a miserable detail, i know, but would be interesting.) please add that she is humbly solicited to grant leave of absence for the teneriffe trip, unless she thinks northampton air more invigorating. ever your loving dad, t.h. huxley. on april , accompanied by his son, he left london on board the "aorangi". at plymouth he had time to meet his friend w.f. collier, and to visit the zoological station, while], "to my great satisfaction," [he writes], "i received a revise (i.e. of 'capital the mother of labour') for the may 'nineteenth century'--from knowles. they must have looked sharp at the printing-office." [it did not take him long to recover his sea-legs, and he thoroughly enjoyed even the rougher days when the rolling of the ship was too much for other people. the day before reaching teneriffe he writes:--] i have not felt so well for a long time. i do nothing, have a prodigious appetite, and harry declares i am getting fat in the face. [santa cruz was reached early on april , and in the afternoon he proceeded to laguna, which he made his headquarters for a week. that day he walked miles, the next , and the third in the course of the day. he notes finding the characteristic euphorbia and heaths of the canaries; notes, too, one or two visitations of dyspepsia from indigestible food. he writes from laguna:--] from all that people with whom we meet tell me, i gather that the usual massive lies about health resorts pervade the accounts of teneriffe. santa cruz would reduce me to jelly in a week, and i hear that orotava is worse--stifling. guimar, whither we go to-morrow, is warranted to be dry and everlasting sunshine. we shall see. one of the people staying in the house said they had rain there for a fortnight together...i am all right now, and walked some miles up hill and down dale to-day, and i am not more than comfortably tired. however, i am not going to try the peak. i find it cannot be done without a night out at a considerable height when the thermometer commonly goes down below freezing, and i am not going to run that risk for the chance of seeing even the famous shadows. [by some mischance, no letters from home reached him till the th, and he writes from guimar on the rd:--] a lady who lives here told me yesterday that a postmistress at one place was in the habit of taking off the stamps and turning the letters on one side! but that luckily is not a particular dodge with ours. we drove over here on the th. it is a very picturesque place feet up in the midst of a great amphitheatre of high hills, facing north, orange-trees laden with fruit, date palms and bananas are in the garden, and there is lovely sunshine all day long. altogether the climate is far the best i have found anywhere here, and the house, which is that of a spanish marquesa, only opened as a hotel this winter, is very comfortable. i am sitting with the window wide open at nine o'clock at night, and the stars flash as if the sky were australian. on saturday we had a splendid excursion up to the top of the pass that leads from here up to the other side of the island. road in the proper sense there was none, and the track incredibly bad, worse than any alpine path owing to the loose irregular stones. the mules, however, pick their way like cats, and you have only to hold on. the pass is feet high, and we ascended still higher. fortune favoured us. it was a lovely day and the clouds lay in a great sheet a thousand feet below. the peak, clear in the blue sky, rose up bare and majestic feet out of as desolate a desert clothed with the stiff retama shrubs (a sort of broom) as you can well imagine. [(the canadas, which he calls] "the one thing worth seeing there.") it took us three hours and a half to get up, passing for a good deal of the time through a kind of low brush of white and red cistuses in full bloom. we saw palma on one side, and grand canary on the other, beyond the layer of clouds which enveloped all the lower part of the island. coming down was worse than going up, and we walked a good part of the way, getting back about six. about seven hours in the saddle and walking. you never saw anything like the improvement in harry. he is burnt deep red; he says my nose is of the same hue, and at the end of the journey he raced gurilio, our guide, who understands no word of english any more than we do spanish, but we are quite intimate nevertheless. [my brother indeed averred that his language of signs was far more effectual than the spanish which my father persisted in trying upon the inhabitants. this guide, by the way, was very sceptical as to any englishman being equal to walking the seventeen miles, much less beating him in a race over the stony track. his experience was entirely limited to invalids.] he reiterates his distress at not getting letters from his wife: "certainly i will never run the risk of being so long without--never again." when, after all, the delayed letters reached him on his way back from the expedition to the canadas, thanks to a traveller who brought them up from laguna, he writes (april ):--] catch me going out of reach of letters again. i have been horridly anxious. nobody--children or any one else--can be to me what you are. ulysses preferred his old woman to immortality, and this absence has led me to see that he was as wise in that as in other things. [here is a novel description of an hotel at puerto orotava:--] it is very pretty to look at, but all draughts. i compare it to the air of a big wash-house with all the doors open, and it was agreed that the likeness was exact. [on may he sailed for madeira by the "german", feeling already "ten years younger" for his holiday. on the rd he writes:--] the last time i was in this place was in . all my life lies between the two visits. i was then twenty-one and a half and i shall be sixty-five to-morrow. the place looks to me to have grown a good deal, but i believe it is chiefly english residents whose villas dot the hill. there were no roads forty-four years ago. now there is one, i am told, to camera do lobos nearly five miles long. that is the measure of portuguese progress in half a century. moreover, the men have left off wearing their pigtail caps and the women their hoods. [to his youngest daughter:--] bella vista hotel, funchal, may , . dearest babs, this comes wishing you many happy returns of the day, though a little late in the arrival. harry sends his love, and desires me to say that he took care to write a letter which should arrive in time, but unfortunately forgot to mention the birthday in it! so i think, on the whole, i have the pull of him. we ought to be back about the th or th, as i have put my name down for places in the "conway castle", which is to call here on the th, and i do not suppose she will be full. in the meanwhile, we shall fill up the time by a trip to the other side of the island, on which we start to-morrow morning at . . you have to take your own provisions and rugs to sleep upon and under, as the fleas la bas are said to be unusually fine and active. we start quite a procession with a couple of horses, a guide, and two men (owners of the nags) to carry the baggage; and i suspect that before to-morrow night we shall have made acquaintance with some remarkably bad apologies for roads. but the horses here seem to prefer going up bad staircases at speed (with a man hanging on by the tail to steer), and if you only stick to them they land you all right. i have developed so much prowess in this line that i think of coming out in the character of buffalo bill on my return. hands and face of both of us are done to a good burnt sienna, and a few hours more or less in the saddle don't count. i do not think either of us have been so well for years. you will have heard of our doings in teneriffe from m--. the canadas there is the one thing worth seeing, altogether unique. as a health resort i should say the place is a fraud--always excepting guimar--and that, excellent for people in good health, is wholly unfit for a real invalid, who must either go uphill or downhill over the worst of roads if he leaves the hotel. the air here is like that of south devon at its best--very soft, but not stifling as at orotava. we had a capital expedition yesterday to the grand corral--the ancient volcanic crater in the middle of the island with walls some feet high, all scarred and furrowed by ravines, and overgrown with rich vegetation. there is a little village at the bottom of it which i should esteem as a retreat if i wished to be out of sight and hearing of the pomps and vanities of this world. by the way, i have been pretty well out of hearing of everything as it is, for i only had three letters from m-- while we were in teneriffe, and not one here up to this date. after i had made all my arrangements to start to-morrow i heard that a mail would be in at noon. so the letters will have to follow us in the afternoon by one of the men, who will wait for them. we went to-day to lunch with mr. blandy, the head of the principal shipping agency here, whose wife is the daughter of my successor at the fishery office. well, our trip has done us both a world of good; but i am getting homesick, and shall rejoice to be back again. i hope that joyce is flourishing, and jack satisfied with the hanging of his pictures, and that a millionaire has insisted on buying the picture and adding a bonus. our best love to you all. ever your loving pater. don't know m--'s whereabouts. but if she is with you, say i wrote her a long screed (number ) and posted it to-day--with my love as a model husband and complete letter-writer. [on returning home he found that the linnean medal had been awarded him.] marlborough place, may , . my dear hooker, how's a' wi' you? my boy and i came back from madeira yesterday in great feather. as for myself, riding about on mules, or horses, for six to ten hours at a stretch--burning in sun or soaking in rain--over the most entirely breakneck roads and tracks i have ever made acquaintance with, except perhaps in morocco--has proved a most excellent tonic, cathartic, and alterative all in one. existence of heart and stomach are matters of faith, not of knowledge, with me at present. i hope it may last, and i have had such a sickener of invalidism that my intention is to keep severely out of all imprudences. but what is a man to do if his friends take advantage of his absence, and go giving him gold medals behind his back? that you have been an accomplice in this nefarious plot--mine own familiar friend whom i trusted and trust--is not to be denied. well, it is very pleasant to have toil that is now all ancient history remembered, and i shall go to the meeting and the dinner and make my speech in spite of as many possible devils of dyspepsia as there are plates and dishes on the table. we were lucky in getting in for nothing worse than heavy rolling, either out or in. teneriffe is well worth seeing. the canadas is something quite by itself, a bit of egypt feet up with a bare volcanic cone, or rather long barrow sticking up feet in the middle of it. otherwise, madeira is vastly superior. i rode across from funchal to sao vicente, up to paul da serra, then along the coast to santa anna, and back from santa anna to funchal. i have seen nothing comparable except in mauritius, nor anything anywhere like the road by the cliffs from sao vicente to santa anna. lucky for me that my ancient nautical habit of sticking on to a horse came back. a good deal of the road is like a bad staircase, with no particular banisters, and a well of feet with the sea at the bottom. your heart would rejoice over the great heaths. i saw one, the bole of which split into nearly equal trunks; and one of these was just a metre in circumference, and had a head as big as a moderate-sized ash. gorse in full flower, up to or feet high. on the whole a singular absence of flowering herbs except cinerarias and, especially in teneriffe, echium. i did not chance to see a euphorbia in madeira, though i believe there are some. in teneriffe they are everywhere in queer shapes, and there was a thing that mimicked the commonest euphorbia but had no milk, which i will ask you about when i see you. the euphorbias were all in flower, but this thing had none. but you will have had enough of my scrawl. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. chapter . . - . [three letters of the first half of the year may conveniently be placed here. the first is to tyndall, who had just been delivering an anti-gladstonian speech at belfast. the opening reference must be to some newspaper paragraph which i have not been able to trace, just as the second is to a paragraph in , not long after tyndall's marriage, which described huxley as starting for america with his titled bride.] jevington gardens, eastbourne, february , . my dear tyndall, put down the three half-pints and the two dozen to the partnership account. ever since the "titled bride" business i have given up the struggle against the popular belief that you and i constitute a firm. it's very hard on me in the decline of life to have a lively young partner who thinks nothing of rushing six or seven hundred miles to perform a war-dance on the sainted g.o.m., and takes the scalp of historicus as an hors d'oeuvre. all of which doubtless goes down to my account just as my poor innocent articles confer a reputation for long-suffering mildness on you. well! well! there is no justice in this world! with our best love to you both. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [(the confusion in the popular mind continued steadily, so that at last, when tyndall died, huxley received the doubtful honour of a funeral sermon.) dr. pelseneer, to whom the next letter is addressed, is a belgian morphologist, and an authority upon the mollusca. he it was who afterwards completed huxley's unfinished memoir on spirula for the "challenger" report.] marlborough place, june , . dear dr. pelseneer, i gave directions yesterday for the packing up and sending to your address of the specimens of trigonia, and i trust that they will reach you safely. i am rejoiced that you are about to take up the subject. i was but a beginner when i worked at trigonia, and i had always promised myself that i would try to make good the many deficiencies of my little sketch. but three or four years ago my health gave way completely, and though i have recovered (no less to my own astonishment than to that of the doctors) i am compelled to live out of london and to abstain from all work which involves much labour. thus science has got so far ahead of me that i hesitate to say much about a difficult morphological question--all the more, as old men like myself should be on their guard against over-much tenderness for their own speculations. and i am conscious of a great tenderness for those contained in my ancient memoir on the "morphology of the cephalous mollusca." certainly i am entirely disposed to agree with you that the gasteropods and the lamellibranchs spring from a common root--nearly represented by the chiton--especially by a hypothetical chiton with one shell plate. i always thought nucula the key to the lamellibranchs, and i am very glad you have come to that conclusion on such much better evidence. i am, dear dr. pelseneer, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [towards the end of june he went for a week to salisbury, taking long walks in the neighbourhood, and exploring the town and cathedral, which he confessed himself ashamed never to have seen before. he characteristically fixes its date in his memory by noting that the main part of it was completed when dante was a year old.] the white hart, salisbury, june , . my dear donnelly, couldn't stand any more london, so bolted here yesterday morning, and here i shall probably stop for the next few days. i have been trying any time the last thirty years to see stonehenge, and this time i mean to do it. i should have gone to-day, but the weather was not promising, so i spent my sunday morning in old sarum--that blessed old tumulus with nine (or was it eleven?) burgesses that used to send two members to parliament when i was a child. really you radicals are of some use after all! poor old smyth's death is just what i expected, though i did not think the catastrophe was so imminent. [warrington wilkinson smyth ( - ), the geologist and mineralogist. in he was appointed lecturer on mining and mineralogy at the royal school of mines. after the lectureships were separated in , he retained the former until his death. he was knighted in .] peace be with him; he never did justice to his very considerable abilities, but he was a good fellow and a fine old crusted conservative. i suppose it will be necessary to declare the vacancy and put somebody in his place before long. i learned before i started that smyth was to be buried in cornwall, so there is no question of attending at his funeral. i am the last of the original jermyn street gang left in the school now--ultimus romanorum! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this trip was taken by way of a holiday after the writing of an article, which appeared in the "nineteenth century" for july . it was called "the lights of the church and the light of science," and may be considered as written in fulfilment of the plan spoken of in the letter to mr. clodd (above). its subject was the necessary dependence of christian theology upon the historical accuracy of the old testament; its occasion, the publication of a sermon in which, as a counterblast to "lux mundi", canon liddon declared that accuracy to be sanctioned by the use made of the old testament by jesus christ, and bade his hearers close their ears against any suggestions impairing the credit of those jewish scriptures which have received the stamp of his divine authority. pointing out that, as in other branches of history, so here the historical accuracy of early tradition was abandoned even by conservative critics, who at all understood the nature of the problems involved, huxley proceeded to examine the story of the flood, and to show that the difficulties were little less in treating it--like the reconcilers--as a partial than as a universal deluge. then he discussed the origin of the story, and criticised the attempt of the essayist in "lux mundi" to treat this and similar stories as "types," which must be valueless if typical of no underlying reality. these things are of moment in speculative thought, for if adam be not an historical character, if the story of the fall be but a type, the basis of pauline theology is shaken; they are of moment practically, for it is the story of the creation which is referred to in the] "speech (matt. ) unhappily famous for the legal oppression to which it has been wrongfully forced to lend itself" [in the marriage laws. in july , sir j.g.t. sinclair wrote to him, calling his attention to a statement of babbage's that after a certain point his famous calculating machine, contrary to all expectation, suddenly introduced a new principle of numeration into a series of numbers (extract from babbage's ninth bridgewater treatise. babbage shows that a calculating machine can be constructed which, after working in a correct and orderly manner up to , , , then leaps, and instead of continuing the chain of numbers unbroken, goes at once to , , . "the law which seemed at first to govern the series failed at the hundred million and second term. this term is larger than we expected by , . the law thus changes:-- , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . for a hundred or even a thousand terms they continued to follow the new law relating to the triangular numbers, but after watching them for terms we find that this law fails at the nd term. if we continue to observe we shall discover another law then coming into action which also is different, dependent, but in a different manner, on triangular numbers because a number of points agreeing with their term may be placed in the form of a triangle, thus:-- ( dot.) ( dots in the form of a triangle.) ( dots in the form of a triangle.) ( dots in the form of a triangle.) (one, three, six, ten). this will continue through about terms, when a new law is again introduced over about terms, and this too, like its predecessors, fails and gives place to other laws which appear at different intervals."), and asking what effect this phenomenon had upon the theory of induction. huxley replied as follows:--] grand hotel, eastbourne, july , . dear sir, i knew mr. babbage, and am quite sure that he was not the man to say anything on the topic of calculating machines which he could not justify. i do not see that what he says affects the philosophy of induction as rightly understood. no induction, however broad its basis, can confer certainty--in the strict sense of the word. the experience of the whole human race through innumerable years has shown that stones unsupported fall to the ground, but that does not make it certain that any day next week unsupported stones will not move the other way. all that it does justify is the very strong expectation, which hitherto has been invariably verified, that they will do just the contrary. only one absolute certainty is possible to man--namely, that at any given moment the feeling which he has exists. all other so-called certainties are beliefs of greater or less intensity. do not suppose that i am following abernethy's famous prescription, "take my pills," if i refer you to an essay of mine on "descartes," and a little book on hume, for the fuller discussion of these points. hume's argument against miracles turns altogether on the fallacy that induction can give certainty in the strict sense. we poor mortals have to be content with hope and belief in all matters past and present--our sole certainty is momentary. i am yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. sir j.g.t. sinclair, bart. [except for a last visit to london to pack his books, which proved a heavier undertaking than he had reckoned upon, huxley did not leave eastbourne this autumn, refusing sir j. donnelly's hospitable invitation to stay with him in surrey during the move, of which he exclaims:--] thank heaven that is my last move--except to a still smaller residence of a subterranean character! grand hotel, eastbourne, september , . my dear donnelly, and my books--and watch-dog business generally? how is that to be transacted whether as in-patient or out-patient at firdale? much hospitality hath made thee mad. seriously, it's not to be done nohow. what between papers that don't come, and profligate bracket manufacturers who keep you waiting for months and then send the wrong things--and a general tendency of everybody to do nothing right or something wrong--it is as much as the two of us will do--to get in, and all in the course of the next three weeks. of course my wife has no business to go to london to superintend the packing--but i should like to see anybody stop her. however, she has got the faithful minnie to do the actual work; and swears by all her gods and goddesses she will only direct. it would only make her unhappy if i did not make pretend to believe, and hope no harm may come of it. tout a vous, t.h. huxley. [another discussion which sprang up in the "times", upon medical education, evoked a letter from him ("times" august ), urging that the preliminary training ought to be much more thorough and exact. the student at his first coming is so completely habituated to learn only from books or oral teaching, that the attempt to learn from things and to get his knowledge at first hand is something new and strange. thus a large proportion of medical students spend much of their first year in learning how to learn, and when they have done that, in acquiring the preliminary scientific knowledge, with which, under any rational system of education, they would have come provided. he urged, too, that they should have received a proper literary education instead of a sham acquaintance with latin, and insisted, as he had so often done, on the literary wealth of their own language. every one has his own ideas of what a liberal education ought to include, and a correspondent wrote to ask him, among other things, whether he did not think the higher mathematics ought to be included. he replied:--] grand hotel, eastbourne, august , . i think mathematical training highly desirable, but advanced mathematics, i am afraid, would be too great a burden in proportion to its utility, to the ordinary student. i fully agree with you that the incapacity of teachers is the weak point in the london schools. but what is to be expected when a man accepts a lectureship in a medical school simply as a grappling-iron by which he may hold on until he gets a hospital appointment? medical education in london will never be what it ought to be, until the "institutes of medicine," as the scotch call them, are taught in only two or three well-found institutions--while the hospital schools are confined to the teaching of practical medicine, surgery, obstetrics, and so on. [the following letters illustrate huxley's keenness to correct any misrepresentation of his opinions from a weighty source, amid the way in which, without abating his just claims, he could make the peace gracefully. in october dr. abbott delivered an address on "illusions," in which, without, of course, mentioning names, he drew an unmistakable picture of huxley as a thorough pessimist. a very brief report appeared in the "times" of october , together with a leading article upon the subject. huxley thereupon wrote to the "times" a letter which throws light both upon his early days and his later opinions:--] the article on "illusions" in the "times" of to-day induces me to notice the remarkable exemplification of them to which you have drawn public attention. the reverend dr. abbott has pointed the moral of his discourse by a reference to a living man, the delicacy of which will be widely and justly appreciated. i have reason to believe that i am acquainted with this person, somewhat intimately, though i can by no means call myself his best friend--far from it. if i am right, i can affirm that this poor fellow did not escape from the "narrow school in which he was brought up" at nineteen, but more than two years later; and, as he pursued his studies in london, perhaps he had as many opportunities for "fruitful converse with friends and equals," to say nothing of superiors, as he would have enjoyed elsewhere. moreover, whether the naval officers with whom he consorted were book-learned or not, they were emphatically men, trained to face realities and to have a wholesome contempt for mere talkers. any one of them was worth a wilderness of phrase-crammed undergraduates. indeed, i have heard my misguided acquaintance declare that he regards his four years' training under the hard conditions and the sharp discipline of his cruise as an education of inestimable value. as to being a "keen-witted pessimist out and out," the reverend dr. abbott's "horrid example" has shown me the following sentence:--"pessimism is as little consonant with the facts of sentient existence as optimism." he says he published it in , in an article on "industrial development," to be seen in the "nineteenth century". but no doubt this is another illusion. no superior person, brought up "in the universities," to boot, could possibly have invented a myth so circumstantial. [the end of the correspondence was quite amicable. dr. abbott explained that he had taken his facts from the recently published "autobiography," and that the reporters had wonderfully altered what he really said by large omissions. in a second letter ("times" october ) huxley says:--] i am much obliged to dr. abbott for his courteous explanation. i myself have suffered so many things at the hands of so many reporters--of whom it may too often be said that their "faith, unfaithful, makes them falsely true"--that i can fully enter into what his feelings must have been when he contemplated the picture of his discourse, in which the lights on "raw midshipmen," "pessimist out and out," "devil take the hindmost," and "heine's dragoon," were so high, while the "good things" he was kind enough to say about me lay in the deep shadow of the invisible. and i can assure dr. abbott that i should not have dreamed of noticing the report of his interesting lecture, which i read when it appeared, had it not been made the subject of the leading article which drew the attention of all the world to it on the following day. i was well aware that dr. abbott must have founded his remarks on the brief notice of my life which (without my knowledge) has been thrust into its present ridiculous position among biographies of eminent musicians; and most undoubtedly anything i have said there is public property. but erroneous suppositions imaginatively connected with what i have said appear to me to stand upon a different footing, especially when they are interspersed with remarks injurious to my early friends. some of the "raw midshipmen and unlearned naval officers" of whom dr. abbott speaks, in terms which he certainly did not find in my "autobiography," are, i am glad to say, still alive, and are performing, or have performed, valuable services to their country. i wonder what dr. abbott would think, and perhaps say, if his youthful university friends were spoken of as "raw curates and unlearned country squires." when david hume's housemaid was wroth because somebody chalked up "st david's" on his house, the philosopher is said to have remarked,--" never mind, lassie, better men than i have been made saints of before now." and, perhaps, if i had recollected that "better men than i have been made texts of before now," a slight flavour of wrath which may be perceptible would have vanished from my first letter. if dr. abbott has found any phrase of mine too strong, i beg him to set it against "out and out pessimist" and "heine's dragoon," and let us cry quits. he is the last person with whom i should wish to quarrel. [two interesting criticisms of books follow; one "the first three gospels", by the reverend estlin carpenter; the other on "use and disuse", directed against the doctrine of use-inheritance, by mr. platt ball, who not only sent the book but appealed to him for advice as to his future course in undertaking a larger work on the evolution of man.] grand hotel, eastbourne, october , . my dear mr. carpenter, accept my best thanks for "the first three gospels", which strikes me as an admirable exposition of the case, full, clear, and calm. indeed the latter quality gives it here and there a touch of humour. you say the most damaging things in a way so gentle that the orthodox reader must feel like the eels who were skinned by the fair molly--lost between pain and admiration. i am certainly glad to see that the book has reached a second edition; it will do yeoman's service to the cause of right reason. a friend of mine was in the habit of sending me his proofs, and i sometimes wrote on them "no objection except to the whole"; and i am afraid that you will think what i am about to say comes to pretty much the same thing--at least if i am right in the supposition that a passage in your first preface (page ) states your fundamental position, and that you conceive that when criticism has done its uttermost there still remains evidence that the personality of jesus was the leading cause--the conditio sine qua non--of the evolution of christianity from judaism. i long thought so, and having a strong dislike to belittle the heroic figures of history, i held by the notion as long as i could, but i find it melting away. i cannot see that the moral and religious ideal of early christianity is new--on the other hand, it seems to me to be implicitly and explicitly contained in the early prophetic judaism and the later hellenised judaism; and though it is quite true that the new vitality of the old ideal manifested in early christianity demands "an adequate historic cause," i would suggest that the word "cause" may mislead if it is not carefully defined. medical philosophy draws a most useful and necessary distinction between "exciting" and "predisposing" causes--and nowhere is it more needful to keep this distinction in mind than in history--and especially in estimating the action of individuals on the course of human affairs. platonic and stoical philosophy--prophetic liberalism--the strong democratic socialism of the jewish political system--the existence of innumerable sodalities for religious and social purposes--had thrown the ancient world into a state of unstable equilibrium. with such predisposing causes at work, the exciting cause of enormous changes might be relatively insignificant. the powder was there--a child might throw the match which should blow up the whole concern. i do not want to seem irreverent, still less depreciatory, of noble men, but it strikes me that in the present case the nazarenes were the match and paul the child. an ingrained habit of trying to explain the unknown by the known leads me to find the key to nazarenism in quakerism. it is impossible to read the early history of the friends without seeing that george fox was a person who exerted extraordinary influence over the men with whom he came in contact; and it is equally impossible (at least for me) to discover in his copious remains an original thought. yet what with the corruption of the stuarts, the phariseeism of the puritans, and the sadduceeism of the church, england was in such a state, that before his death he had gathered about him a vast body of devoted followers, whose patient endurance of persecution is a marvel. moreover, the quakers have exercised a prodigious influence on later english life. but i have scribbled a great deal too much already. you will see what i mean. to mr. w. platt ball. grand hotel, eastbourne, october , . dear sir, i have been through your book, which has greatly interested me, at a hand-gallop; and i have by no means given it the attention it deserves. but the day after to-morrow i shall be going into a new house here, and it may be some time before i settle down to work in it--so that i prefer to seem hasty, rather than indifferent to your book and still more to your letter. as to the book, in the first place. the only criticism i have to offer--in the ordinary depreciatory sense of the word--is that pages to seem to me to require reconsideration, partly from a substantial and partly from a tactical point of view. there is much that is disputable on the one hand, and not necessary to your argument on the other. otherwise it seems to me that the case could hardly be better stated. here are a few notes and queries that have occurred to me. page . extinction of tasmanians--rather due to the british colonist, who was the main agent of their extirpation, i fancy. page . birds' sternums are a great deal more than surfaces of origin for the pectoral muscles--e.g. movable lid of respiratory bellows. this not taken into account by darwin. page . "inferiority of senses of europeans" is, i believe, a pure delusion. professor marsh told me of feats of american trappers equal to any savage doings. it is a question of attention. consider wool-sorters, tea-tasters, shepherds who know every sheep personally, etc. etc. page . i do not understand about the infant's sole; since all men become bipeds, all must exert pressure on sole. there is no disuse. page . has not "muscardine" been substituted for "pebrine"? i have always considered this a very striking case. here is apparent inheritance of a diseased state through the mother only, quite inexplicable till pasteur discovered the rationale. page . have you considered that state socialism (for which i have little enough love) may be a product of natural selection? the societies of bees and ants exhibit socialism in excelsis. the unlucky substitution of "survival of fittest" for "natural selection" has done much harm in consequence of the ambiguity of "fittest"--which many take to mean "best" or "highest"--whereas natural selection may work towards degradation: vide epizoa. you do not refer to the male mamma--which becomes functional once in many million cases, see the curious records of gynaecomasty. here practical disuse in the male ever since the origin of the mammalia has not abolished the mamma or destroyed its functional potentiality in extremely rare cases. i absolutely disbelieve in use-inheritance as the evidence stands. spencer is bound to it a priori--his psychology goes to pieces without it. now as to the letter. i am no pessimist--but also no optimist. the world might be much worse, and it might be much better. of moral purpose i see no trace in nature. that is an article of exclusively human manufacture--and very much to our credit. if you will accept the results of the experience of an old man who has had a very chequered existence--and has nothing to hope for except a few years of quiet downhill--there is nothing of permanent value (putting aside a few human affections), nothing that satisfies quiet reflection--except the sense of having worked according to one's capacity and light, to make things clear and get rid of cant and shams of all sorts. that was the lesson i learned from carlyle's books when i was a boy, and it has stuck by me all my life. therefore, my advice to you is go ahead. you may make more of failing to get money, and of succeeding in getting abuse--until such time in your life as (if you are teachable) you have ceased to care much about either. the job you propose to undertake is a big one, and will tax all your energies and all your patience. but, if it were my case, i should take my chance of failing in a worthy task rather than of succeeding in lower things. and if at any time i can be of use to you (even to the answering of letters) let me know. but in truth i am getting rusty in science--from disuse. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--yes--mr. gladstone has dug up the hatchet. we shall see who gets the scalps. by the way, you have not referred to plants, which are a stronghold for you. what is the good of use-inheritance, say, in orchids? [the interests which had formerly been divided between biology and other branches of science and philosophy, were diverted from the one channel only to run stronger in the rest. stagnation was the one thing impossible to him; his rest was mental activity without excessive physical fatigue; and he felt he still had a useful purpose to serve, as a friend put it, in patrolling his beat with a vigilant eye to the loose characters of thought. thus he writes on september to sir j. hooker:--] i wish quietude of mind were possible to me. but without something to do that amuses me and does not involve too much labour, i become quite unendurable--to myself and everybody else. providence has, i believe, specially devolved on gladstone, gore, and co. the function of keeping "'ome 'appy" for me. i really can't give up tormenting ces droles. however, i have been toiling at a tremendously scientific article about the "aryan question" absolutely devoid of blasphemy. [this article appeared in the november number of the "nineteenth century" ("collected essays" ) and treats the question from a biological point of view, with the warning to readers that it is essentially a speculation based upon facts, but not assuredly proved. it starts from the racial characteristics of skull and stature, not from simply philological considerations, and arrives at a form of the "sarmatian" theory of aryan origins. and for fear lest he should be supposed to take sides in the question of race and language, or race and civilisation, he remarks:--] the combination of swarthiness with stature above the average and a long skull, confer upon me the serene impartiality of a mongrel. the grand hotel, eastbourne, august , . my dear evans, i have read your address returned herewith with a great deal of interest, as i happen to have been amusing myself lately with reviewing the "aryan" question according to the new lights (or darknesses). i have only two or three remarks to offer on the places i have marked a and b. as to a, i would not state the case so strongly against the probabilities of finding pliocene man. a pliocene homo skeleton might analogically be expected to differ no more from that of modern men than the oeningen canis from modern canes, or pliocene horses from modern horses. if so, he would most undoubtedly be a man--genus homo--even if you made him a distinct species. for my part i should by no means be astonished to find the genus homo represented in the miocene, say the neanderthal man with rather smaller brain capacity, longer arms and more movable great toe, but at most specifically different. as to b, i rather think there were people who fought the fallacy of language being a test of race before broca--among them thy servant--who got into considerable hot water on that subject for a lecture on the forefathers and forerunners of the english people, delivered in . taylor says that cuno was the first to insist upon the proposition that race is not co-extensive with language in . that is all stuff. the same thesis had been maintained before i took it up, but i cannot remember by whom. [cp. letter to max muller of june , volume .] won't you refer to the blackmore museum? i was very much struck with it when at salisbury the other day. hope they gave you a better lunch at gloucester than we did here. we'll treat you better next time in our own den. with the wife's kindest regards. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the remark in a preceding letter about "gladstone, gore, and co." turned out to be prophetic as well as retrospective. mr. gladstone published this autumn in "good words" his "impregnable rock of holy scripture," containing an attack upon huxley's position as taken up in their previous controversy of . the debate now turned upon the story of the gadarene swine. the question at issue was not, at first sight, one of vital importance, and one critic at least remarked that at their age mr. gladstone and professor huxley might be better occupied than in fighting over the gadarene pigs:--] if these too famous swine were the only parties to the suit, i for my part (writes huxley, "collected essays" ) should fully admit the justice of the rebuke. but the real issue (he contends) is whether the men of the nineteenth century are to adopt the demonology of the men of the first century, as divinely revealed truth, or to reject it as degrading falsity. [a lively encounter followed:--] the g.o.m. is not murdered [he writes on november ], only "fillipped with a three-man beetle," as the fat knight has it. [this refers to the forthcoming article in the december "nineteenth century", "the keepers of the herd of swine," which was followed in march by "mr. gladstone's controversial methods" (see "collected essays" sqq.), the rejoinder to mr. gladstone's reply in february. the scope of this controversy was enlarged by the intervention in the january "nineteenth century" of the duke of argyll, to whom he devoted the concluding paragraphs of his march article. but it was scarcely well under way when another, accompanied by much greater effusion of ink and passion, sprang up in the columns of the "times". his share in it, published in as a pamphlet under the title of "social diseases and worse remedies," is to be found in "collected essays" .] i have a new row on hand in re salvation army! [he writes on december ]. it's all mrs. --'s fault; she offered the money. [in fact, a lady who was preparing to subscribe pounds to "general" booth's "darkest england" scheme, begged huxley first to give her his opinion of the scheme and the likelihood of its being properly carried out. a careful examination of "darkest england" and other authorities on the subject, convinced him that it was most unwise to create an organisation whose absolute obedience to an irresponsible leader might some day become a serious danger to the state; that the reforms proposed were already being undertaken by other bodies, which would be crippled if this scheme were floated; and that the financial arrangements of the army were not such as provide guarantees for the proper administration of the funds subscribed:--] and if the thing goes on much longer, if booth establishes his bank, you will have a crash some of these fine days, comparable only to law's mississippi business, but unfortunately ruining only the poor. [on the same day he writes to his eldest son:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, december , . attacking the salvation army may look like the advance of a forlorn hope, but this old dog has never yet let go after fixing his teeth into anything or anybody, and he is not going to begin now. and it is only a question of holding on. look at plumptre's letter exposing the bank swindle. the "times", too, is behaving like a brick. this world is not a very lovely place, but down at the bottom, as old carlyle preached, veracity does really lie, and will show itself if people won't be impatient. [no sooner had he begun to express these opinions in the columns of the "times" than additional information of all kinds poured in upon him, especially from within the army, much of it private for fear of injury to the writers if it were discovered that they had written to expose abuses; indeed in one case the writer had thought better of even appending his signature to his letter, and had cut off his name from the foot of it, alleging that correspondence was not inviolable. so far were these persons from feeling hostility to the organisation to which they belonged, that one at least hailed the professor as the divinely-appointed redeemer of the army, whose criticism was to bring it back to its pristine purity. to his elder son:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . dear lens, it is very jolly to think of j. and you paying us a visit. it is proper, also, the eldest son should hansel the house. is the mr. sidgwick who took up the cudgels for me so gallantly in the "st. james'" one of your sidgwicks? if so, i wish you would thank him on my account. (the letter was capital.) [mr. william c. sidgwick had written (january ) an indignant letter to protest against the heading of an article in the "speaker", professor huxley as titus oates." "to this monster of iniquity the "speaker" compares an honourable english gentleman, because he has ventured to dissuade his countrymen from giving money to mr. william booth...mr. huxley's views on theology may be wrong, but nobody doubts that he honestly holds them; they do not bring mr. huxley wealth and honours, nor do they cause the murder of the innocent. to insinuate a resemblance which you dare not state openly is an outrage on common decency...] generally people like me to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for them, but don't care to take any share in the burning of the fingers. but the boothites are hard hit, and may be allowed to cry out. i begin to think that they must be right in saying that the devil is at work to destroy them. no other theory sufficiently accounts for the way they play into my hands. poor clibborn-booth has a long--columns long--letter in the "times" to-day, in which, all unbeknownst to himself, he proves my case. i do believe it is a veritable case of the herd of swine, and i shall have to admit the probability of that miracle. love to j. and co. from us all. ever your affectionate pater. hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . my dear mr. clodd, i am very much obliged to you for the number of the "st. james's gazette", which i had not seen. the leading article expresses exactly the same conclusions as those at which i had myself arrived from the study of the deed of . but of course i was not going to entangle myself in a legal discussion. however, i have reason to know that the question will be dealt with by a highly qualified legal expert before long. the more i see of the operations of headquarters the worse they look. i get some of my most valuable information and heartiest encouragement from officers of the salvation army; and i knew, in this way, of smith's resignation a couple of days before it was announced! but the poor fellows are so afraid of spies and consequent persecution, that some implore me not to notice their letters, and all pledge me to secrecy. so that i am vice-fontanelle with my hand full of truth, while i can only open my little finger. it is a case of one down and t'other come on, just now. "--" will get his deserts in due time. but, oh dear, what a waste of time for a man who has not much to look to. no; "waste" is the wrong word; it's useful, but i wish that somebody else would do it and leave me to my books. my wife desires her kind regards. i am happy to say she is now remarkably well. if you are this way, pray look in at our hermitage. yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . my dear hooker, i trust i have done with booth and co. at last. what an ass a man is to try to prevent his fellow-creatures from being humbugged! surely i am old enough to know better. i have not been so well abused for an age. it's quite like old times. and now i have to settle accounts with the duke and the g.o.m. i wonder when the wicked will let me be at peace. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [other letters touch upon the politics of the hour, especially upon the sudden and dramatic fall of parnell. he could not but admire the power and determination of the man, and his political methods, an admiration rashly interpreted by some journalist as admiration of the objects to which these political methods were applied. (see volume .)] grand hotel, eastbourne, november , . my dear lecky, very many thanks for your two volumes, which i rejoice to have, especially as a present from you. i was only waiting until we were settled in our new house--as i hope we shall be this time next week--to add them to the set which already adorn my shelves, and i promise myself soon to enjoy the reading of them. the unionist cause is looking up. what a strange thing it is that the irish malcontents are always sold, one way or the other, by their leaders. i wonder if the g.o.m. ever swears! pity if he can't have that relief just now. with our united kind regards to mrs. lecky and yourself. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. grand hotel, eastbourne, november , . my dear hooker, i have filled up and sent your and my copies of entry for athenaeum. carpenter has written the best popular statement i know of, of the results of criticism, in a little book called "the first three gospels", which is well worth reading. [see above.] i have promised to go to the royal society dinner and propose stokes' health on monday, but if the weather holds out as arctic as it is now, i shall not dare to venture. the driving east wind, blowing the snow before it here, has been awful; for ten years they have had nothing like it. i am glad to say that my little house turns out to be warm. we go in next wednesday, and i fear i cannot be in town on thursday even if the weather permits. i have had pleurisy that was dangerous and not painful, then pleurisy that was painful and not dangerous; there is only one further combination, and i don't want that. politics now are immensely interesting. there must be a depth of blackguardism in me, for i cannot help admiring parnell. i prophesy that it is gladstone who will retire for a while, and then come back to parnell's heel like a whipped hound. his letter was carefully full of loopholes. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, december , . my dear hooker, the question of questions now is whether the unionists will have the sense to carry a measure settling the land question at once. if they do that, i do not believe it will be in the power of man to stir them further. and my belief is that parnell will be quite content with that solution. he does not want to be made a nonentity by davitt or the irish americans. but what ingrained liars they all are! that is the bottom of all irish trouble. fancy healy and sexton going to dublin to swear eternal fidelity to their leader, and now openly declaring that they only did so because they believed he would resign. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, january , . my dear foster, i am trying to bring the booth business to an end so far as i am concerned, but it's like getting a wolf by the ears; you can't let him go exactly when you like. but the result is quite worth the trouble. booth, stead, tillett, manning and co. have their little game spoilt for the present. you cannot imagine the quantity of letters i get from the salvation army subordinates, thanking me and telling me all sorts of stories in strict confidence. the poor devils are frightened out of their lives by headquarter spies. some beg me not to reply, as their letters are opened. i knew that saints were not bad hands at lying before; but these booth people beat banagher. then there is -- awaits skinning, and i believe the g.o.m. is to be upon me! oh for a quiet life. ever yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [but by february the booth business was over, the final rejoinder to mr. gladstone sent to press; and he writes to sir j. hooker:--] please the pigs, i have now done with them--wiped my month, and am going to be good--till next time. but in truth i am as sick of controversy as a confectioner's boy of tarts. i rather think i shall set up as a political prophet. gladstone and all the rest are coming to heel to their master. years ago one of the present leaders of the anti-parnellites said to me: "gladstone is always in the hands of somebody stronger than himself; formerly it was bright, now it is parnell." chapter . . - . [the new house at eastbourne has been several times referred to. as usually happens, the move was considerably delayed by the slowness of the workmen; it did not actually take place till the beginning of december. he writes to his daughter, mrs. roller, who also had just moved into a new house:--] you have all my sympathies on the buy, buy question. i never knew before that when you go into a new house money runs out at the heels of your boots. on former occasions, i have been too busy to observe the fact. but i am convinced now that it is a law of nature. [the origin of the name given to the house appears from the following letter:--] grand hotel, eastbourne, october , . my dear foster, best thanks for the third part of the "physiology," which i found when i ran up to town for a day or two last week. what a grind that book must be. how's a' wi' you? let me have a line. we ought to have been in our house a month ago, but fitters, paperers, and polishers are like bugs or cockroaches, you may easily get 'em in, but getting 'em out is the deuce. however, i hope to clear them out by the end of this week, and get in by the end of next week. one is obliged to have names for houses here. mine will be "hodeslea," which is as near as i can go to "hodesleia," the poetical original shape of my very ugly name. there was a noble scion of the house of huxley of huxley who, having burgled and done other wrong things (temp. henry iv.), asked for benefit of clergy. i expect they gave it him, not in the way he wanted, but in the way they would like to "benefit" a later member of the family. [rough sketch of one priest hauling the rope taut over the gallows, while another holds a crucifix before the suspended criminal.] between this gentleman and my grandfather there is unfortunately a complete blank, but i have none the less faith in him as my ancestor. my wife, i am sorry to say, is in town--superintending packing up--no stopping her. i have been very uneasy about her at times, and shall be glad when we are quietly settled down. with kindest regards to mrs. foster. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [his own principal task was in getting his library ready for the move.] most of my time [he writes on november ] for the last fortnight has been spent in arranging books and tearing up papers till my back aches and my fingers are sore. [however, he did not take all his books with him. there was a quantity of biological works of all sorts which had accumulated in his library and which he was not likely to use again; these he offered as a parting gift to the royal college of science. on december , the registrar conveys to him the thanks of the council for "the valuable library of biological works," and further informs him that it was resolved:-- that the library shall be kept in the room formerly occupied by the dean, which shall be called "the huxley laboratory for biological research," and be devoted to the prosecution of original researches in biological science, with which the name of professor huxley is inseparably associated. huxley replied as follows:--] dear registrar, i beg you convey my hearty thanks to the council for the great kindness of the minute and resolution which you have sent me. my mind has never been greatly set on posthumous fame; but there is no way of keeping memory green which i should like so well as that which they have adopted towards me. it has been my fate to receive a good deal more vilipending than (i hope) i deserve. if my colleagues, with whom i have worked so long, put too high a value upon my services, perhaps the result may be not far off justice. yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. in addition to the directly controversial articles in the early part of the year, two other articles on controversial subjects belong to . "hasisadra's adventure," published in the "nineteenth century" for june, completed his long-contemplated examination of the flood myth. in this he first discussed the babylonian form of the legend recorded upon the clay tablets of assurbanipal--a simpler and less exaggerated form as befits an earlier version, and in its physical details keeping much nearer to the bounds of probability. the greater part of the article, however, is devoted to a wider question--how far does geological and geographical evidence bear witness to the consequences which must have ensued from a universal flood, or even from one limited to the countries of mesopotamia? and he comes to the conclusion that these very countries have been singularly free from any great changes of the kind for long geological periods. the sarcastic references in this article to those singular reasoners who take the possibility of an occurrence to be the same as scientific testimony to the fact of its occurrence, lead up, more or less, to the subject of an essay, "possibilities and impossibilities," which appeared in the "agnostic annual" for , actually published in october , and to be found in "collected essays", . this was a restatement of the fundamental principles of the agnostic position, arising out of the controversies of the last two years upon the demonology of the new testament. the miraculous is not to be denied as impossible; as hume said, "whatever is intelligible and can be distinctly conceived implies no contradiction, and can never be proved false by any demonstrative argument or abstract reasoning a priori," and these combinations of phenomena are perfectly conceivable. moreover, in the progress of knowledge, the miracles of to-day may be the science of to-morrow. improbable they are, certainly, by all experience, and therefore they require specially strong evidence. but this is precisely what they lack; the evidence for them, when examined, turns out to be of doubtful value.] i am anxious [he says] to bring about a clear understanding of the difference between "impossibilities" and "improbabilities," because mistakes on this point lay us open to the attacks of ecclesiastical apologists of the type of the late cardinal newman. when it is rightly stated, the agnostic view of "miracles" is, in my judgment, unassailable. we are not justified in the a priori assertion that the order of nature, as experience has revealed it to us, cannot change. in arguing about the miraculous, the assumption is illegitimate, because it involves the whole point in dispute. furthermore, it is an assumption which takes us beyond the range of our faculties. obviously, no amount of past experience can warrant us in anything more than a correspondingly strong expectation for the present and future. we find, practically, that expectations, based upon careful observations of past events, are, as a rule, trustworthy. we should be foolish indeed not to follow the only guide we have through life. but, for all that, our highest and surest generalisations remain on the level of justifiable expectations; that is, very high probabilities. for my part, i am unable to conceive of an intelligence shaped on the model of that of men, however superior it might be, which could be any better off than our own in this respect; that is, which could possess logically justifiable grounds for certainty about the constancy of the order of things, and therefore be in a position to declare that such and such events are impossible. some of the old mythologies recognised this clearly enough. beyond and above zeus and odin, there lay the unknown and inscrutable fate which, one day or other, would crumple up them and the world they ruled to give place to a new order of things. i sincerely hope that i shall not be accused of pyrrhonism, or of any desire to weaken the foundations of rational certainty. i have merely desired to point out that rational certainty is one thing, and talk about "impossibilities," or "violation of natural laws," another. rational certainty rests upon two grounds; the one that the evidence in favour of a given statement is as good as it can be; the other, that such evidence is plainly insufficient. in the former case, the statement is to be taken as true, in the latter as untrue; until something arises to modify the verdict, which, however properly reached, may always be more or less wrong, the best information being never complete, and the best reasoning being liable to fallacy. to quarrel with the uncertainty that besets us in intellectual affairs would be about as reasonable as to object to live one's life, with due thought for the morrow, because no man can be sure he will be alive an hour hence. such are the conditions imposed upon us by nature, and we have to make the best of them. and i think that the greatest mistake those of us who are interested in the progress of free thought can make is to overlook these limitations, and to deck ourselves with the dogmatic feathers which are the traditional adornment of our opponents. let us be content with rational certainty, leaving irrational certainties to those who like to muddle their minds with them. [as for the difficulty of believing miracles in themselves, he gives in this paper several examples of a favourite saying of his, that science offers us much greater marvels than the miracles of theology; only the evidence for them is very different. the following letter was written in acknowledgment of a paper by the reverend e. mcclure, which endeavoured to place the belief in an individual permanence upon the grounds that we know of no leakage anywhere in nature; that matter is not a source, but a transmitter of energy; and that the brain, so far from originating thought, is a mere machine responsive to something external to itself, a revealer of something which it does not produce, like a musical instrument. this "something" is the universal of thought, which is identified with the general logos of the fourth gospel. moral perfection consists in assimilation to this; sin is the falling short of perfect revealing of the eternal logos. huxley's reply interested his correspondent not only for the brief opinion on the philosophic question, but for the personal touch in the explanation of the motives which had guided his life-work, and his "kind feeling towards such of the clergy as endeavoured to seek honestly for a natural basis to their faith." hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . dear mr. mcclure, i am very much obliged for your letter, which belongs to a different category from most of those which i receive from your side of the hedge that, unfortunately, separates thinking men. so far as i know myself, after making due deduction for the ambition of youth and a fiery temper, which ought to (but unfortunately does not) get cooler with age, my sole motive is to get at the truth in all things. i do not care one straw about fame, present or posthumous, and i loathe notoriety, but i do care to have that desire manifest and recognised. your paper deals with a problem which has profoundly interested me for years, but which i take to be insoluble. it would need a book for full discussion. but i offer a remark only on two points. the doctrine of the conservation of energy tells neither one way nor the other. energy is the cause of movement of body, i.e. things having mass. states of consciousness have no mass, even if they can be conceded to be movable. therefore even if they are caused by molecular movements, they would not in any way affect the store of energy. physical causation need not be the only kind of causation, and when cabanis said that thought was a function of the brain, in the same way as bile secretion is a function of the liver, he blundered philosophically. bile is a product of the transformation of material energy. but in the mathematical sense of the word "function," thought may be a function of the brain. that is to say, it may arise only when certain physical particles take on a certain order. by way of a coarse analogy, consider a parallel-sided piece of glass through which light passes. it forms no picture. shape it so as to be bi-convex, and a picture appears in its focus. is not the formation of the picture a "function" of the piece of glass thus shaped? so, from your own point of view, suppose a mind-stuff--logos---a noumenal cosmic light such as is shadowed in the fourth gospel. the brain of a dog will convert it into one set of phenomenal pictures, and the brain of a man into another. but in both cases the result is the consequence of the way in which the respective brains perform their "functions." yet one point. the actions we call sinful are as much the consequence of the order of nature as those we call virtuous. they are part and parcel of the struggle for existence through which all living things have passed, and they have become sins because man alone seeks a higher life in voluntary association. therefore the instrument has never been marred; on the contrary, we are trying to get music out of harps, sacbuts, and psalteries, which never were in tune and seemingly never will be. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [few years passed without some utterance from huxley on the subject of education, especially scientific education. this year we have a letter to professor ray lankester touching the science teaching at oxford.] hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . dear lankester, i met foster at the athenaeum when i was in town last week, and we had some talk about your "very gentle" stirring of the oxford pudding. i asked him to let you know when occasion offered, that (as i had already said to burdon sanderson) i drew a clear line apud biology between the medical student and the science student. with respect to the former, i consider it ought to be kept within strict limits, and made simply a vorschule to human anatomy and physiology. on the other hand, the man who is going out in natural science ought to have a much larger dose, especially in the direction of morphology. however, from what i understood from foster, there seems a doubt about the "going out" in "natural science", so i had better confine myself to the medicos. their burden is already so heavy that i do not want to see it increased by a needless weight even of elementary biology. very many thanks for the "zoological articles" just arrived. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. don't write to the "times" about anything; look at the trouble that comes upon a harmless man for two months, in consequence. [the following letter, which i quote from the "yorkshire herald" of april , , was written in answer to some inquiries from mr. j. harrison, who read a paper on technical education as applied to agriculture, before the easingwold agricultural club.] i am afraid that my opinion upon the subject of your inquiry is worth very little--my ignorance of practical agriculture being profound. however, there are some general principles which apply to all technical training; the first of these, i think, is that practice is to be learned only by practice. the farmer must be made by and through farm work. i believe i might be able to give you a fair account of a bean plant and of the manner and condition of its growth, but if i were to try to raise a crop of beans, your club would probably laugh consumedly at the result. nevertheless, i believe that you practical people would be all the better for the scientific knowledge which does not enable me to grow beans. it would keep you from attempting hopeless experiments, and would enable you to take advantage of the innumerable hints which dame nature gives to people who live in direct contact with things. and this leads me to the second general principle which i think applies to all technical teaching for school-boys and school-girls, and that is, that they should be led from the observation of the commonest facts to general scientific truths. if i were called upon to frame a course of elementary instruction preparatory to agriculture, i am not sure that i should attempt chemistry, or botany, or physiology or geology, as such. it is a method fraught with the danger of spending too much time and attention on abstraction and theories, on words and notions instead of things. the history of a bean, of a grain of wheat, of a turnip, of a sheep, of a pig, or of a cow properly treated--with the introduction of the elements of chemistry, physiology, and so on as they come in--would give all the elementary science which is needed for the comprehension of the processes of agriculture in a form easily assimilated by the youthful mind, which loathes everything in the shape of long words and abstract notions, and small blame to it. i am afraid i shall not have helped you very much, but i believe that my suggestions, rough as they are, are in the right direction. [the remaining letters of the year are of miscellaneous interest. they show him happily established in his retreat at eastbourne in very fair health, on his guard against any further repetition of his "jubilee honour" in the shape of his old enemy pleurisy; unable to escape the more insidious attacks of influenza, but well enough on the whole to be in constant good spirits.] hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . my dear skelton, many thanks to you for reminding me that there are such things as "summer isles" in the universe. the memory of them has been pretty well blotted out here for the last seven weeks. you see some people can retire to "hermitages" as well as other people; and though even argyll cum gladstone powers of self-deception could not persuade me that the view from my window is as good as that from yours, yet i do see a fine wavy chalk down with "cwms" and soft turfy ridges, over which an old fellow can stride as far as his legs are good to carry him. the fact is, that i discovered that staying in london any longer meant for me a very short life, and by no means a merry one. so i got my son-in-law to build me a cottage here, where my wife and i may go down-hill quietly together, and "make our sowls" as the irish say, solaced by an occasional visit from children and grandchildren. the deuce of it is, that however much the weary want to be at rest the wicked won't cease from troubling. hence the occasional skirmishes and alarms which may lead my friends to misdoubt my absolute detachment from sublunary affairs. perhaps peace dwells only among the fork-tailed petrels! i trust mrs. skelton and you are flourishing, and that trouble will keep far from the hospitable doors of braid through the new year. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [no sooner had he settled down in his new country home, than a strange piece of good fortune, such as happens more often in a story-book than in real life, enabled him at one stroke to double his little estate, to keep off the unwelcome approach of the speculative builder, and to give himself scope for the newly-discovered delights of the garden. the sale of the house in marlborough place covered the greater part of the cost of hodeslea; but almost on the very day on which the sale was concluded, he became the possessor of another house at worthing by the death of mr. anthony rich, the well-known antiquarian. an old man, almost alone in the world, his admiration for the great work done recently in natural science had long since led him to devise his property to darwin and huxley, to the one his private fortune, to the other his house and its contents, notably a very interesting library. as a matter of feeling, huxley was greatly disinclined to part with this house, chapel croft, as soon as it had come into his hands. a year earlier, he might have made it his home; but now he had settled down at eastbourne, and chapel croft, as it stood, was unlikely to find a tenant. accordingly he sold it early in july, and with the proceeds bought the piece of land adjoining his house. thus he writes to sir j. hooker:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, may , . my dear hooker, my estate is somewhat of a white elephant. there is about a couple of acres of ground well situated and half of it in the shape of a very pretty lawn and shrubbery, but unluckily, in building the house, dear old rich thought of his own convenience and not mine (very wrong of him!), and i cannot conceive anybody but an old bachelor or old maid living in it. i do not believe anybody would take it as it stands. no doubt the site is valuable, and it would be well worth while to anybody with plenty of cash to spare to build on to the house and make it useful. but i neither have the cash, nor do i want the bother. however, waller is going to look at the place for me and see what can be done. it seems hardly decent to sell it at once; and moreover the value is likely to increase. i suppose at present it is worth pounds, but that is only a guess. apropos of naval portrait gallery, can you tell me if there is a portrait of old john richardson anywhere extant? i always look upon him as the founder of my fortunes, and i want to hang him up (just over your head) on my chimney breast. voici! [sketch showing the position of the pictures above the fireplace]:-- by your fruits ye shall judge them! my cold was influenza, i have been in the most preposterously weak state ever since; and at last my wife lost patience and called in the doctor, who is screwing me up with nux vomica. sound wind and limb otherwise. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [and again on july :--] i have just been offered pounds for anthony rich's place and have accepted it. it is probably worth pounds, but if i were to have it on my hands and sell by auction i should get no more out of the transaction. i am greatly inclined to put some of the money into a piece of land--a naboth's vineyard--in front of my house and turn horticulturist. i find nailing up creepers a delightful occupation. [in the same letter he describes two meetings with old friends:--] last friday i ran down to hindhead to see tyndall. he was very much better than i hoped to find him, after such a long and serious illness, quite bright and "tyndalloid" and not aged as i feared he would be...the local doctor happened to be there during my visit and spoke very confidently of his speedy recovery. the leg is all right again, and he even talks of switzerland, but i begged mrs. tyndall to persuade him to keep quiet and within reach of home and skilled medical attendance. saturday to monday we were at down, after six or seven years' interruption of our wonted visits. it was very pleasant if rather sad. mrs. darwin is wonderfully well--naturally aged--but quite bright and cheerful as usual. old parslow turned up on sunday, just eighty, but still fairly hale. fuimus fuimus! [(parslow was the old butler who had been in mr. darwin's service for many years.) to his daughter, mrs. roller.] hodeslea, eastbourne, may , . you dear people must have entered into a conspiracy, as i had letters from all yesterday. i have never been so set up before, and begin to think that fathers (like port) must improve in quality with age. (no irreverent jokes about their getting crusty, miss.) julian and joyce taken together may perhaps give a faint idea of my perfections as a child. i have not only a distinct recollection of being noticed on the score of my good looks, but my mother used to remind me painfully of them in my later years, looking at me mournfully and saying, "and you were such a pretty boy!" [much as he would have liked to visit the maloja again this year, the state of his wife's health forbade such a long journey. he writes just after his attack of influenza to sir m. foster, who had been suffering in the same way:--] hodeslea, may , . my dear foster, i was very glad to hear from you. pray don't get attempting to do anything before you are set up again. i am in a ridiculous state of weakness, and bless my stars that i have nothing to do. i find it troublesome to do even that. i wish ballooning had advanced so far as to take people to maloja, for i do not think my wife ought to undertake such a journey, and yet i believe the high air would do us both more good than anything else.... the university of london scheme appears to be coming to grief, as i never doubted it would. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [so instead of going abroad, he stayed in eastbourne till the end of august, receiving a short visit from his old friend jowett, who, though sadly enfeebled by age, still persisted in travelling by himself, and a longer visit from his elder son and his family. but from september to the th he and his wife made a trip through the west country, starting from salisbury, which had so delighted him the year before, and proceeding by way of the wye valley, which they had not visited since their honeymoon, to llangollen. the first stage on the return journey was chester, whence they made pious pilgrimage to the cradle of his name, old huxley hall, some nine miles from chester. incorporated with a modern farm-house, and forming the present kitchen, are some solid stone walls, part of the old manor-house, now no longer belonging to any one of the name. from here they went to coventry, where he had lived as a boy, and found the house which his father had occupied still standing. a letter to an old pupil contains reflections upon the years of work to which he had devoted so much of his energies.] to professor t. jeffery parker, otago. hodeslea, eastbourne, august , . my dear parker, it is a long time since your letter reached me, but i was so unwise as to put off answering it until the book arrived and i had read it. the book did not reach me for a long time, and what with one thing and another i have but just finished it. i assure you i am very proud of having my name connected with such a thorough piece of work, no less than touched by the kindness of the dedication. looking back from the aged point of view, the life which cost so much wear and tear in the living seems to have effected very little, and it is cheering to be reminded that one has been of some use. some years of continued ill-health, involving constant travelling about in search of better conditions than london affords, and long periods of prostration, have driven me quite out of touch with science. and indeed except for a certain toughness of constitution i should have been driven out of touch with terrestrial things altogether. it is almost indecent in a man at my time of life who has had two attacks of pleurisy, followed by a dilated heart, to be not only above ground but fairly vigorous again. however, i am obliged to mind my p's and q's; avoid everything like hard work, and live in good air. the last condition we have achieved by setting up a house close to the downs here; and i begin to think with candide that "cultivons notre jardin" comprises the whole duty of man. i was just out of the way of hearing anything about the university college chair; and indeed, beyond attending the council of the school when necessary, and meetings of trustees of the british museum, i rarely go to london. i have had my innings, and it is now for the younger generation to have theirs. with best wishes, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [as for being no longer in touch with the world of science, he says the same thing in a note to sir m. foster, forwarding an inquiry after a scientific teacher (august ).] please read the enclosed, and if you know of anybody suitable please send his name to mr. thomas. i have told him that i am out of the way of knowing, and that you are physiologically omniscient, so don't belie the character! [this year a number of huxley's essays were translated into french. "nature" for july , (volume page ),--notes the publication of "les sciences naturelles et l'education," with a short preface by himself, dwelling upon the astonishing advance which had been made in the recognition of science as an instrument of education, but warning the younger generation that the battle is only half won, and bidding them beware of relaxing their efforts before the place of science is entirely assured. in the issue for december ("nature" ), is a notice of "la place de l'homme dans la nature," a re-issue of a translation of more than twenty years before, together with three ethnological essays, newly translated by m. h. de varigny, to whom the following letters are addressed.] to h. de varigny. may , . i am writing to my publishers to send you "lay sermons", "critiques", "science and culture", and "american addresses", pray accept them in expression of my thanks for the pains you are taking about the translation. "man's place in nature" has been out of print for years, so i cannot supply it. i am quite conscious that the condensed and idiomatic english into which i always try to put my thoughts must present many difficulties to a translator. but a friend of mine who is a much better french scholar than i am, and who looked over two or three of the essays, told me he thought you had been remarkably successful. the fact is that i have a great love and respect for my native tongue, and take great pains to use it properly. sometimes i write essays half-a-dozen times before i can get them into the proper shape; and i believe i become more fastidious as i grow older. november , . i am very glad you have found your task pleasant, for i am afraid it must have cost you a good deal of trouble to put my ideas into the excellent french dress with which you have provided them. it fits so well that i feel almost as if i might be a candidate for a seat among the immortal forty! as to the new volume, you shall have the refusal of it if you care to have it. but i have my doubts about its acceptability to a french public which i imagine knows little about bibliolatry and the ways of protestant clericalism, and cares less. these essays represent a controversy which has been going on for five or six years about genesis, the deluge, the miracle of the herd of swine, and the miraculous generally, between gladstone, the ecclesiastical principal of king's college, various bishops, the writer of "lux mundi", that spoilt scotch minister the duke of argyll, and myself. my object has been to stir up my countrymen to think about these things; and the only use of controversy is that it appeals to their love of fighting, and secures their attention. i shall be very glad to have your book on "experimental evolution". i insisted on the necessity of obtaining experimental proof of the possibility of obtaining virtually infertile breeds from a common stock in (in one of the essays you have translated). mr. tegetmeier made a number of experiments with pigeons some years ago, but could obtain not the least approximation to infertility. from the first, i told darwin this was the weak point of his case from the point of view of scientific logic. but, in this matter, we are just where we were thirty years ago, and i am very glad you are going to call attention to the subject. sending a copy of the translation soon after to sir j. hooker, he writes:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . my dear hooker, we have been in the middle of snow for the last four days. i shall not venture to london, and if you deserve the family title of the "judicious," i don't think you will either. i send you by this post a volume of the french translation of a collection of my essays about darwinism and evolution, - , for which i have written a brief preface. i was really proud of myself when i discovered on re-reading them that i had nothing to alter. what times those days were! fuimus. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [the same subject of experimental evolution reappears in a letter to professor romanes of april . a project was on foot for founding an institution in which experiments bearing upon the darwinian theory could be carried out. after congratulating professor romanes upon his recent election to the athenaeum club, he proceeds:--] in a review of darwin's "origin" published in the "westminster" for ("lay sermons" pages - ), you will see that i insisted on the logical incompleteness of the theory so long as it was not backed by experimental proof that the cause assumed was competent to produce all the effects required. (see also "lectures to working men" pages and .) in fact, darwin used to reproach me sometimes for my pertinacious insistence on the need of experimental verification. but i hope you are going to choose some other title than "institut transformiste," which implies that the institute is pledged to a foregone conclusion, that it is a workshop devoted to the production of a particular kind of article. moreover, i should say that as a matter of prudence, you had better keep clear of the word "experimental." would not "biological observatory" serve the turn? of course it does not exclude experiment any more than "astronomical observatory" excludes spectrum analysis. please think over this. my objection to "transformist" is very strong. [in august his youngest daughter wrote to him to find out the nature of various "objects of the seashore" which she had found on the beach in south wales. his answers make one wish that there had been more questions.] hodeslea, eastbourne, august , . dearest babs, . "ornary" or not "ornary" b is merely a turned upside down and viewed with the imperfect appreciation of the mere artistic eye! . your little yellow things are, i expect, egg-cases of dog whelks. you will find a lot of small eggs inside them, one or two of which grow faster than the rest, and eat up their weaker brothers and sisters. the dog whelk is common on the shores. if you look for something like this [sketch of a terrier coming out of a whelk shell], you will be sure to recognise it. . starfish are not born in their proper shape and don't come from your whitish yellow lumps. the thing that comes out of a starfish egg is something like this [sketch], and swims about by its cilia. the starfish proper is formed inside, and it is carried on its back this-uns. finally starfish drops off carrying with it t'other one's stomach, so that the subsequent proceedings interest t'other one no more. . the ropy sand tubes that make a sort of banks and reefs are houses of worms, that they build up out of sand, shells, and slime. if you knock a lot to pieces you will find worms inside. . now, how do i know what the rooks eat? but there are a lot of unconsidered trifles about and if you get a good telescope and watch, you will have a glimpse as they hover between sand and rooks' beaks. it has been blowing more or less of a gale here from the west for weeks--usually cold, often foggy--so that it seems as if summer were going to be late, probably about november. but we thrive fairly well. l. and j. and their chicks are here and seem to stand the inclemency of the weather pretty fairly. the children are very entertaining. m-- has been a little complaining, but is as active as usual. my love to joyce, and tell her i am glad to hear she has not forgotten her astronomy. in answer to your inquiry, leonard says that trevenen has twenty-five teeth. i have a sort of notion this can be hardly accurate, but never having been a mother can't presume to say. our best love to you all. ever your loving pater. hodeslea, eastbourne, august , . dearest babs, 'pears to me your friend is a squid or pen-and-ink fish, loligo among the learned. probably loligo media which i have taken in that region. they have ten tentacles with suckers round their heads, two much longer than the others. they are close to cuttlefish, but have a thin horny shell inside them instead of the "cuttle-bone." if you can get one by itself in a tub of water, it is pretty to see how they blush all over and go pale again, owing to little colour-bags in the skin, which expand and contract. doubtless they took you for a heron, under the circumstances [sketch of a wader]. with slight intervals it has been blowing a gale from the west here for some months, the memory of man indeed goeth not back to the calm. i have not been really warm more than two days this so-called summer. and everybody prophesied we should be roasted alive here in summer. we are all flourishing, and send our best love to jack and you. tell joyce the wallflowers have grown quite high in her garden. ever your loving pater. [politics are not often touched upon in the letters of this period, but an extract from a letter of october , , is of interest as giving his reason for supporting a unionist government, many of whose tendencies he was far from sympathising with:--] the extract from the "guardian" is wonderful. the gladstonian tee-to-tum cannot have many more revolutions to make. the only thing left for him now, is to turn agnostic, declare homer to be an old bloke of a ballad-monger, and agitate for the prohibition of the study of greek in all universities... it is just because i do not want to see our children involved in civil war that i postpone all political considerations to keeping up a unionist government. i may be quite wrong; but right or wrong, it is no question of party. "rads delight not me nor tories neither," as hamlet does not say. the following letter to sir m. foster shows how little huxley was now able to do in the way of public business without being knocked up:--] hodeslea, october , . my dear foster, if i had known the nature of the proceedings at the college of physicians yesterday, i should have braved the tedium of listening to a lecture i could not hear in order to see you decorated. clark had made a point of my going to the dinner [i.e. at the college of physicians.], and, worse luck, i had to "say a few words" after it, with the result that i am entirely washed out to-day, and only able to send you the feeblest of congratulations. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the same thing appears in the following to sir w.h. flower, which is also interesting for his opinion on the question of promotion by seniority:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, october , . my dear flower, my "next worst thing" was promoting a weak man to a place of responsibility in lieu of a strong one, on the mere ground of seniority. caeteris paribus, or with even approximate equality of qualifications, no doubt seniority ought to count; but it is mere ruin to any service to let it interfere with the promotion of men of marked superiority, especially in the case of offices which involve much responsibility. i suppose as trustee i may requisition a copy of woodward's catalogue. i should like to look a little more carefully at it...we are none the worse for our pleasant glimpse of the world (and his wife) at your house; but i find that speechifying at public dinners is one of the luxuries that i must utterly deny myself. it will take me three weeks' quiet to get over my escapade. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . the revival of part of the former controversy which he had had with mr. gladstone upon the story of creation, made a warlike beginning of an otherwise very peaceful year. since the middle of december a great correspondence had been going on in the "times", consequent upon the famous manifesto of the thirty-eight anglican clergy touching the question of inspiration and the infallibility of the bible. criticism, whether "higher" or otherwise, defended on the one side, was unsparingly denounced on the other. after about a month of this correspondence, huxley's name was mentioned as one of these critics; whereupon he was attacked by one of the disputants for "misleading the public" by his assertion in the original controversy that while reptiles appear in the geological record before birds, genesis affirms the contrary; the critic declaring that the word for "creeping things" (rehmes) created on the sixth day, does not refer to reptiles, which are covered by the "moving creatures" (shehretz) used of the first appearance of animal life. it is interesting to see how, in his reply, huxley took care to keep the main points at issue separate from the subordinate and unimportant ones. his answer is broken up into four letters. the first ("times" january ) rehearses the original issue between himself and mr. gladstone; wherein both sides agreed that the creation of the sixth day included reptiles, so that, formally at least, his position was secure, though there was also a broader ground of difference to be considered. before proceeding further, he asks his critic whether he admits the existence of the contradiction involved, and if not, to state his reasons therefor. these reasons were again given on february as the new interpretation of the two hebrew words already referred to, an interpretation, by the way, which makes the same word stand both for "the vast and various population of the waters" and "for such land animals as mice, weasels, and lizards, great and small." on february appeared the second letter, in which, setting aside the particular form which his argument against mr. gladstone had taken, he described the broad differences between the teachings of genesis and the teachings of evolution. he left the minor details as to the interpretation of the words in dispute, which did not really affect the main argument, to be dealt with in the next letter of february . it was a question with which he had long been familiar, as twenty years before he had, at dr. kalisch's request, gone over the proofs of his "commentary on leviticus". the letter of february is as follows:--] while desirous to waste neither your space nor my own time upon mere misrepresentations of what i have said elsewhere about the relations between modern science and the so-called "mosaic" cosmogony, it seems needful that i should ask for the opportunity of stating the case once more, as briefly and fairly as i can. i conceive the first chapter of genesis to teach--( ) that the species of plants and animals owe their origin to supernatural acts of creation; ( ) that these acts took place at such times and in such a manner that all the plants were created first, all the aquatic and aerial animals (notably birds) next, and all terrestrial animals last. i am not aware that any hebrew scholar denies that these propositions agree with the natural sense of the text. sixty years ago i was taught, as most people were then taught, that they are guaranteed by divine authority. on the other hand, in my judgment, natural science teaches no less distinctly--( ) that the species of animals and plants have originated by a process of natural evolution; ( ) that this process has taken place in such a manner that the species of animals and plants, respectively, have come into existence one after another throughout the whole period since they began to exist on the earth; that the species of plants and animals known to us are as a whole, neither older nor younger the one than the other. the same holds good of aquatic and aerial species, as a whole, compared with terrestrial species; but birds appear in the geological record later than terrestrial reptiles, and there is every reason to believe that they were evolved from the latter. until it is shown that the first two propositions are not contained in the first chapter of genesis, and that the second pair are not justified by the present condition of our knowledge, i must continue to maintain that natural science and the "mosaic" account of the origin of animals and plants are in irreconcilable antagonism. as i greatly desire that this broad issue should not be obscured by the discussion of minor points, i propose to defer what i may have to say about the great "shehretz" and "rehmes" question till to-morrow. [on february he wrote once more, again taking certain broader aspects of the problem presented by the first chapter of genesis. he expressed his belief, as he had expressed it in , that theism is not logically antagonistic to evolution. if, he continues, the account in genesis, as philo of alexandria held, is only a poem or allegory, where is the proof that any one non-natural interpretation is the right one? and he concludes by pointing out the difficulties in the way of those who, like the famous thirty-eight, assert the infallibility of the bible as guaranteed by the infallibility of the church. apart from letters and occasional controversy, he published this year only one magazine article and a single volume of collected essays, though he was busy preparing the romanes lecture for , the more so because there was some chance that mr. gladstone would be unable to deliver the first of the lectures in , and huxley had promised to be ready to take his place if necessary. the volume (called "controverted questions") which appeared in , was a collection of the essays of the last few years, mainly controversial, or as he playfully called them, "endeavours to defend a cherished cause," dealing with agnosticism and the demonological and miraculous element in christianity. that they were controversial in tone no one lamented more than himself; and as in the letter to m. de varigny, of november , , so here in the prologue he apologises for the fact.] this prologue,--of which he writes to a friend], "it cost me more time and pains than any equal number of pages i have ever written,"--[was designed to indicate the main question, various aspects of which are dealt with by these seemingly disconnected essays.] the historical evolution of humanity [he writes], which is generally, and i venture to think not unreasonably, regarded as progress, has been, and is being, accompanied by a co-ordinate elimination of the supernatural from its originally large occupation of men's thought. the question--how far is this process to go? is, in my apprehension, the controverted question of our time. this movement, marked by the claim for the freedom of private judgment, which first came to its fulness in the renascence, is here sketched out, rising or sinking by turns under the pressure of social and political vicissitudes, from wiclif's earliest proposal to reduce the supernaturalism of christianity within the limits sanctioned by the scriptures, down to the manifesto in the previous year of the thirty-eight anglican divines in defence of biblical infallibility, which practically ends in an appeal to the very principle they reject. but he does not content himself with pointing out the destructive effects of criticism upon the evidence in favour of a "supernature"--"the present incarnation of the spirit of the renascence," he writes, "differs from its predecessor in the eighteenth century, in that it builds up, as well as pulls down. that of which it has laid the foundation, of which it is already raising the superstructure, is the doctrine of evolution," a doctrine that "is no speculation, but a generalisation of certain facts, which may be observed by any one who will take the necessary trouble." and in a short dozen pages he sketches out that "common body of established truths" to which it is his confident belief that "all future philosophical and theological speculations will have to accommodate themselves." there is no need to recapitulate these; they may be read in "science and christian tradition", the fifth volume of the "collected essays"; but it is worth noticing that in conclusion, after rejecting "a great many supernaturalistic theories and legends which have no better foundations than those of heathenism," he declares himself as far from wishing to "throw the bible aside as so much waste paper" as he was at the establishment of the school board in . as english literature, as world-old history, as moral teaching, as the magna charta of the poor and of the oppressed, the most democratic book in the world, he could not spare it.] "i do not say," [he adds], "that even the highest biblical ideal is exclusive of others or needs no supplement. but i do believe that the human race is not yet, possibly may never be, in a position to dispense with it." [it was this volume that led to the writing of the magazine article referred to above. the republication in it of the "agnosticism," originally written in reply to an article of mr. frederic harrison's, induced the latter to disclaim in the "fortnightly review" the intimate connection assumed to exist between his views and the system of positivism detailed by comte, and at the same time to offer the olive branch to his former opponent. but while gratefully accepting the goodwill implied in the offer, huxley still declared himself unable to] "give his assent to a single doctrine which is the peculiar property of positivism, old or new," [nor to agree with mr. harrison when he wanted:--] to persuade us that agnosticism is only the court of the gentiles of the positivist temple; and that those who profess ignorance about the proper solution of certain speculative problems ought to call themselves positivists of the gate, if it happens that they also take a lively interest in social and political questions. [this essay, "an apologetic irenicon," contains more than one passage of personal interest, which are the more worth quoting here, as the essay has not been republished. it was to have been included in a tenth volume of collected essays, along with a number of others which he projected, but never wrote. thus, begging the positivists not to regard him as a rival or competitor in the business of instructing the human race, he says:--] i aspire to no such elevated and difficult situation. i declare myself not only undesirous of it, but deeply conscious of a constitutional unfitness for it. age and hygienic necessities bind me to a somewhat anchoritic life in pure air, with abundant leisure to meditate upon the wisdom of candide's sage aphorism, "cultivons notre jardin"--especially if the term garden may be taken broadly and applied to the stony and weed-grown ground within my skull, as well as to a few perches of more promising chalk down outside it. in addition to these effectual bars to any of the ambitious pretensions ascribed to me, there is another: of all possible positions that of master of a school, or leader of a sect, or chief of a party, appears to me to be the most undesirable; in fact, the average british matron cannot look upon followers with a more evil eye than i do. such acquaintance with the history of thought as i possess, has taught me to regard schools, parties, and sects, as arrangements, the usual effect of which is to perpetuate all that is worst and feeblest in the master's, leader's, or founder's work; or else, as in some cases, to upset it altogether; as a sort of hydrants for extinguishing the fire of genius, and for stifling the flame of high aspirations, the kindling of which has been the chief, perhaps the only, merit of the protagonist of the movement. i have always been, am, and propose to remain a mere scholar. all that i have ever proposed to myself is to say, this and this have i learned; thus and thus have i learned it: go thou and learn better; but do not thrust on my shoulders the responsibility for your own laziness if you elect to take, on my authority, conclusions, the value of which you ought to have tested for yourself. [again, replying to the reproach that all his public utterances had been of a negative character, that the great problems of human life had been entirely left out of his purview, he defends once more the work of the man who clears the ground for the builders to come after him:--] there is endless backwoodsman's work yet to be done, if "those also serve who only stand and wait," still more do those who sweep and cleanse; and if any man elect to give his strength to the weeder's and scavenger's occupation, i remain of the opinion that his service should be counted acceptable, and that no one has a right to ask more of him than faithful performance of the duties he has undertaken. i venture to count it an improbable suggestion that any such person--a man, let us say, who has well-nigh reached his threescore years and ten, and has graduated in all the faculties of human relationships; who has taken his share in all the deep joys and deeper anxieties which cling about them; who has felt the burden of young lives entrusted to his care, and has stood alone with his dead before the abyss of the eternal--has never had a thought beyond negative criticism. it seems to me incredible that such an one can have done his day's work, always with a light heart, with no sense of responsibility, no terror of that which may appear when the factitious veil of isis--the thick web of fiction man has woven round nature--is stripped off. [challenged to state his "mental bias, pro or con," with regard to such matters as creation, providence, etc., he reiterates his words written thirty-two years before:--] so far back as i wrote:-- "the doctrine of special creation owes its existence very largely to the supposed necessity of making science accord with the hebrew cosmogony"; and that the hypothesis of special creation is, in my judgment, a "mere specious mask for our ignorance." not content with negation, i said:-- "harmonious order governing eternally continuous progress; the web and woof of matter and force interweaving by slow degrees, without a broken thread, that veil which lies between us and the infinite; that universe which alone we know, or can know; such is the picture which science draws of the world." every reader of goethe will know that the second is little more than a paraphrase of the well-known utterance of the "zeitgeist" in "faust", which surely is something more than a mere negation of the clumsy anthropomorphism of special creation. follows a query about "providence," my answer to which must depend upon what my questioner means by that substantive, whether alone, or qualified by the adjective "moral." if the doctrine of a providence is to be taken as the expression, in a way "to be understanded of the people," of the total exclusion of chance from a place even in the most insignificant corner of nature, if it means the strong conviction that the cosmic process is rational, and the faith that, throughout all duration, unbroken order has reigned in the universe, i not only accept it, but i am disposed to think it the most important of all truths. as it is of more consequence for a citizen to know the law than to be personally acquainted with the features of those who will surely carry it into effect, so this very positive doctrine of providence, in the sense defined, seems to me far more important than all the theorems of speculative theology. if, further, the doctrine is held to imply that, in some indefinitely remote past aeon, the cosmic process was set going by some entity possessed of intelligence and foresight, similar to our own in kind, however superior in degree, if, consequently, it is held that every event, not merely in our planetary speck, but in untold millions of other worlds, was foreknown before these worlds were, scientific thought, so far as i know anything about it, has nothing to say against that hypothesis. it is, in fact, an anthropomorphic rendering of the doctrine of evolution. it may be so, but the evidence accessible to us is, to my mind, wholly insufficient to warrant either a positive or a negative conclusion. [he remarks in passing upon the entire exclusion of "special" providences by this conception of a universal "providence." as for "moral" providence:--] so far as mankind has acquired the conviction that the observance of certain rules of conduct is essential to the maintenance of social existence, it may be proper to say that "providence," operating through men, has generated morality. within the limits of a fraction of a fraction of the living world, therefore, there is a "moral" providence. through this small plot of an infinitesimal fragment of the universe there runs a "stream of tendency towards righteousness." but outside the very rudimentary germ of a garden of eden, thus watered, i am unable to discover any "moral" purpose, or anything but a stream of purpose towards the consummation of the cosmic process, chiefly by means of the struggle for existence, which is no more righteous or unrighteous than the operation of any other mechanism. [this, of course, is the underlying principle of the romanes lecture, upon which he was still at work. it is more specifically expressed in the succeeding paragraph:--] i hear much of the "ethics of evolution." i apprehend that, in the broadest sense of the term "evolution," there neither is, nor can be, any such thing. the notion that the doctrine of evolution can furnish a foundation for morals seems to me to be an illusion which has arisen from the unfortunate ambiguity of the term "fittest" in the formula, "survival of the fittest." we commonly use "fittest" in a good sense, with an understood connotation of "best"; and "best" we are apt to take in its ethical sense. but the "fittest" which survives in the struggle for existence may be, and often is, the ethically worst. [another paragraph explains the sense in which he used to say that the romanes lecture was a very orthodox discourse on the text, "satan, the prince of this world":--] it is the secret of the superiority of the best theological teachers to the majority of their opponents that they substantially recognise these realities of things, however strange the forms in which they clothe their conceptions. the doctrines of predestination, of original sin, of the innate depravity of man and the evil fate of the greater part of the race, of the primacy of satan in this world, of the essential vileness of matter, of a malevolent demiurgus subordinate to a benevolent almighty, who has only lately revealed himself, faulty as they are, appear to me to be vastly nearer the truth than the "liberal" popular illusions that babies are all born good, and that the example of a corrupt society is responsible for their failure to remain so; that it is given to everybody to reach the ethical ideal if he will only try; that all partial evil is universal good, and other optimistic figments, such as that which represents "providence" under the guise of a paternal philanthropist, and bids us believe that everything will come right (according to our notions) at last. as to "immortality" again [he refers his critic to his book on "hume"]. i do not think i need return to "subjective" immortality, but it may be well to add that i am a very strong believer in the punishment of certain kinds of actions, not only in the present, but in all the future a man can have, be it long or short. therefore in hell, for i suppose that all men with a clear sense of right and wrong (and i am not sure that any others deserve such punishment) have now and then "descended into hell" and stopped there quite long enough to know what infinite punishment means. and if a genuine, not merely subjective, immortality awaits us, i conceive that, without some such change as that depicted in the fifteenth chapter of the first epistle to the corinthians, immortality must be eternal misery. the fate of swift's struldbrugs seems to me not more horrible than that of a mind imprisoned for ever within the flammantia moenia of inextinguishable memories. further, it may be well to remember that the highest level of moral aspiration recorded in history was reached by a few ancient jews--micah, isaiah, and the rest--who took no count whatever of what might or might not happen to them after death. it is not obvious to me why the same point should not by and by be reached by the gentiles. [he admits that the generality of mankind will not be satisfied to be told that there are some topics about which we know nothing now, and do not seem likely ever to be able to know more; and, consequently, that in the long-run the world will turn to those who profess to have conclusions:--] and that is the pity of it. as in the past, so, i fear, through a very long future, the multitude will continue to turn to those who are ready to feed it with the viands its soul lusteth after; who will offer mental peace where there is no peace, and lap it in the luxury of pleasant delusions. to missionaries of the neo-positivist, as to those of other professed solutions of insoluble mysteries, whose souls are bound up in the success of their sectarian propaganda, no doubt, it must be very disheartening if the "world," for whose assent and approbation they sue, stops its ears and turns its back upon them. but what does it signify to any one who does not happen to be a missionary of any sect, philosophical or religious, and who, if he were, would have no sermon to preach except from the text with which descartes, to go no further back, furnished us two centuries since? i am very sorry if people will not listen to those who rehearse before them the best lessons they have been able to learn, but that is their business, not mine. belief in majorities is not rooted in my breast, and if all the world were against me the fact might warn me to revise and criticise my opinions, but would not in itself supply a ghost of a reason for forsaking them. for myself i say deliberately, it is better to have a millstone tied round the neck and be thrown into the sea than to share the enterprises of those to whom the world has turned, and will turn, because they minister to its weaknesses and cover up the awful realities which it shudders to look at. [a letter to mr. n.p. clayton also discusses the basis of morality.] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . dear sir, i well remember the interview to which you refer, and i should have replied to your letter sooner, but during the last few weeks i have been very busy. moral duty consists in the observance of those rules of conduct which contribute to the welfare of society, and by implication, of the individuals who compose it. the end of society is peace and mutual protection, so that the individual may reach the fullest and highest life attainable by man. the rules of conduct by which this end is to be attained are discoverable--like the other so-called laws of nature--by observation and experiment, and only in that way. some thousands of years of such experience have led to the generalisations, that stealing and murder, for example, are inconsistent with the ends of society. there is no more doubt that they are so than that unsupported stones tend to fall. the man who steals or murders, breaks his implied contract with society, and forfeits all protection. he becomes an outlaw, to be dealt with as any other feral creature. criminal law indicates the ways which have proved most convenient for dealing with him. all this would be true if men had no "moral sense" at all, just as there are rules of perspective which must be strictly observed by a draughtsman, and are quite independent of his having any artistic sense. the moral sense is a very complex affair--dependent in part upon associations of pleasure and pain, approbation and disapprobation formed by education in early youth, but in part also on an innate sense of moral beauty and ugliness (how originated need not be discussed), which is possessed by some people in great strength, while some are totally devoid of it--just as some children draw, or are enchanted by music while mere infants, while others do not know "cherry ripe" from "rule britannia," nor can represent the form of the simplest thing to the end of their lives. now for this last sort of people there is no reason why they should discharge any moral duty, except from fear of punishment in all its grades, from mere disapprobation to hanging, and the duty of society is to see that they live under wholesome fear of such punishment short, sharp, and decisive. for the people with a keen innate sense of moral beauty there is no need of any other motive. what they want is knowledge of the things they may do and must leave undone, if the welfare of society is to be attained. good people so often forget this that some of them occasionally require hanging almost as much as the bad. if you ask why the moral inner sense is to be (under due limitations) obeyed; why the few who are steered by it move the mass in whom it is weak? i can only reply by putting another question--why do the few in whom the sense of beauty is strong--shakespere, raffaele, beethoven, carry the less endowed multitude away? but they do, and always will. people who overlook that fact attend neither to history nor to what goes on about them. benjamin franklin was a shrewd, excellent, kindly man. i have a great respect for him. the force of genial common-sense respectability could no further go. george fox was the very antipodes of all this, and yet one understands how he came to move the world of his day, and franklin did not. as to whether we can all fulfil the moral law, i should say hardly any of us. some of us are utterly incapable of fulfilling its plainest dictates. as there are men born physically cripples, and intellectually idiots, so there are some who are moral cripples and idiots, and can be kept straight not even by punishment. for these people there is nothing but shutting up, or extirpation. i am, yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the peaceful aspect of the "irenicon" seems to have veiled to most readers the unbroken nature of his defence, and he writes to his son-in-law, the hon. john collier, suggesting an alteration in the title of the essay:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . my dear jack, it is delightful to find a reader who "twigs" every point as acutely as your brother has done. i told somebody--was it you?--i rather wished the printer would substitute o for e in irenicon. so far as i have seen any notices, the british critic (what a dull ass he is) appears to have been seriously struck by my sweetness of temper. i sent you the article yesterday, so you will judge for yourself. with love, ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. you should see the place i am claiming for art in the university. i do believe something will grow out of my plan, which has made all the dry bones rattle. it is coming on for discussion in the senate, and i shall be coming to you to have my wounds dressed after the fight. don't know the day yet. [this allusion to the place of art in the university refers to the proposed reorganisation of the london university. since the year the question of establishing a teaching university for london had become more and more pressing. london contained many isolated teaching bodies of various kinds--university college, king's college, the royal college of science, the medical schools, bedford college, and so forth, while the london university was only an examining body. clearly these scattered bodies needed organising; the educational forces of the metropolis were disintegrated; much teaching--and this was especially true of the medical schools--that could have been better done and better paid in a single institution, was split up among several, none of which, perhaps, could offer sufficient inducement to keep the best men permanently. the most burning question was, whether these bodies should be united into a new university, with power to grant degrees of its own, or should combine with the existing university of london, so that the latter would become a teaching as well as an examining body. and if so, there was the additional question as to the form which this combination should take--whether federation, for example, or absorption. the whole question had been referred to a royal commission by the government of lord salisbury. the results were seen in the charter for a gresham university, embodying the former alternative, and in the introduction into parliament of a bill to carry this scheme into effect. but this action had only been promoted by some of the bodies interested, and was strongly opposed by other bodies, as well as by many teachers who were interested in university reform. thus at the end of february, huxley was invited, as a governor of university college, to sign a protest against the provisions of the charter for a teaching university then before parliament, especially in so far as it was proposed to establish a second examining body in london. the signatories also begged the government to grant further inquiry before legislating on the subject the protest, which received over signatures of weight, contributed something towards the rejection of the bill in the house of commons. it became possible to hope that there might be established in london a university which should be something more than a mere collection of teachers, having as their only bond of union the preparation of students for a common examination. it was proposed to form an association to assist in the promotion of a teaching university for the metropolis; but the first draft of a scheme to reconcile the complication of interests and ideals involved led huxley to express himself as follows:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . dear professor weldon [then at university college, london; now linacre professor of physiology at oxford.], i am sorry to have kept you waiting so long for an answer to your letter of the th: but your proposal required a good deal of consideration, and i have had a variety of distractions. so long as i am a member of the senate of the university of london, i do not think i can with propriety join any association which proposes to meddle with it. moreover, though i have a good deal of sympathy with the ends of the association, i have my doubts about many propositions set forth in your draft. i took part in the discussions preliminary to lord justice fry's scheme, and i was so convinced that that scheme would be wrecked amidst the complication of interests and ideals that claimed consideration, that i gave up attending to it. in fact, living so much out of the world now, and being sadly deaf, i am really unfit to intervene in business of this kind. worse still, i am conscious that my own ideal is, for the present at any rate, hopelessly impracticable. i should cut away medicine, law, and theology as technical specialities in charge of corporations which might be left to settle (in the case of medicine, in accordance with the state) the terms on which they grant degrees. the university or universities should be learning and teaching bodies devoted to art (literary and other), history, philosophy, and science, where any one who wanted to learn all that is known about these matters should find people who could teach him and put him in the way of learning for himself. that is what the world will want one day or other, as a supplement to all manner of high schools and technical institution in which young people get decently educated and learn to earn their bread--such as our present universities. it will be a place for men to get knowledge; and not for boys and adolescents to get degrees. i wish i could get the younger men like yourself to see that this is the goal which they may reach, and in the meanwhile to take care that no such philistine compromise as is possible at present, becomes too strong to survive a sharp shake. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [he sketches his ideal of a modern university, and especially of its relation to the medical schools, in a letter to professor ray lankester of april :--] hodeslea, eastbourne, april , . my dear lankester, we have been having ten days of sunshine, and i have been correspondingly lazy, especially about letter-writing. this, however, is my notion; that unless people clearly understand that the university of the future is to be a very different thing from the university of the past, they had better put off meddling for another generation. the mediaeval university looked backwards: it professed to be a storehouse of old knowledge, and except in the way of dialectic cobweb-spinning, its professors had nothing to do with novelties. of the historical and physical (natural) sciences, of criticism and laboratory practice, it knew nothing. oral teaching was of supreme importance on account of the cost and rarity of manuscripts. the modern university looks forward, and is a factory of new knowledge: its professors have to be at the top of the wave of progress. research and criticism must be the breath of their nostrils; laboratory work the main business of the scientific student; books his main helpers. the lecture, however, in the hands of an able man will still have the utmost importance in stimulating and giving facts and principles their proper relative prominence. i think we should get pretty nearly what is wanted by grafting a college de france on to the university of london, subsidising university college and king's college (if it will get rid of its tests, not otherwise), and setting up two or three more such bodies in other parts of london. (scotland, with a smaller population than london, has four complete universities!) i should hand over the whole business of medical education and graduation to a medical universitas to be constituted by the royal colleges and medical schools, whose doings, of course, would be checked by the medical council. our side has been too apt to look upon medical schools as feeders for science. they have been so, but to their detriment as medical schools. and now that so many opportunities for purely scientific training are afforded, there is no reason they should remain so. the problem of the medical university is to make an average man into a good practical doctor before he is twenty-two, and with not more expense than can be afforded by the class from which doctors are recruited, or than will be rewarded by the prospect of an income of to pounds a year. it is not right to sacrifice such men, and the public on whom they practise, for the prospect of making per cent of medical students into men of science. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [an undated draft in his own handwriting (probably the draft of a speech delivered the first time he came to the committee as president, october ) expands the same idea as to the modern requirements of the university:--] the cardinal fact in the university question, appears to me to be this: that the student to whose wants the mediaeval university was adjusted, looked to the past and sought book-learning, while the modern looks to the future and seeks the knowledge of things. the mediaeval view was that all knowledge worth having was explicitly or implicitly contained in various ancient writings; in the scriptures, in the writings of the greater greeks, and those of the christian fathers. whatever apparent novelty they put forward, was professedly obtained by deduction from ancient data. the modern knows that the only source of real knowledge lies in the application of scientific methods of inquiry to the ascertainment of the facts of existence; that the ascertainable is infinitely greater than the ascertained, and that the chief business of the teacher is not so much to make scholars as to train pioneers. from this point of view, the university occupies a position altogether independent of that of the coping-stone of schools for general education, combined with technical schools of theology, law, and medicine. it is not primarily an institution for testing the work of schoolmasters, or for ascertaining the fitness of young men to be curates, lawyers, or doctors. it is an institution in which a man who claims to devote himself to science or art, should be able to find some one who can teach him what is already known, and train him in the methods of knowing more. i include under art,--literature, the pictorial and plastic art with architecture, and music; and under science,--logic, philosophy, philology, mathematics, and the physical sciences. the question of the connection of the high schools for general education, and of the technical schools of theology, law, medicine, engineering, art, music, and so on, with the university is a matter of practical detail. probably the teaching of the subjects which stand in the relation of preliminaries to technical teaching and final studies in higher general education in the university would be utilised by the colleges and technical schools. all that i have to say on this subject is, that i see no reason why the existing university of london should not be completed in the sense i have defined by grafting upon it a professoriate with the appropriate means and appliances, which would supply london with the analogue of the ecole des hautes etudes and the college de france in paris, and of the laboratories with the professor extraordinarius and privat docenten in the german universities. [a new commission was promised to look into the whole question of the london university. this is referred to in a letter to sir j. donnelly of march , .] unless you want to kill foster, don't suggest him for the commission. he is on one already. the whole affair is a perfect muddle of competing crude projects and vested interests, and is likely to end in a worse muddle, as anything but a patch up is, i believe, outside practical politics at present. if i had carte blanche, i should cut away the technical "faculties" of medicine, law, and theology, and set up first-class chairs in literature, art, philosophy, and pure science--a sort of combination of sorbonne (without theology) and college de france. thank heaven i have never been asked to say anything, and my chimaeras remain in petto. they would be scouted. [on the other hand, he was most anxious to keep the school of science at south kensington entirely independent. he writes again on may :--] i trust rucker and thorpe are convinced by this time that i knew what i was talking about when i told them, months ago, that there would be an effort to hook us into the new university hotch-potch. i am ready to oppose any such project tooth and nail. i have not been striving these thirty years to get science clear of their schoolmastering sham-literary peddling to give up the game without a fight. i hope my lords will be staunch. i am glad my opinion is already on record. [and similarly to sir m. foster on october :--] you will have to come to london and set up physiology at the royal college of science. it is the only place in great britain in which scientific teaching is trammelled neither by parsons nor by litterateurs. i have always implored donnelly to keep us clear of any connection with a university of any kind, sort, or description, and i tried to instil the same lesson into the doctors the other day. but the "liberal education" cant is an obsession of too many of them. [a further step was taken in june, when he was sent a new draft of proposals, afterwards adopted by the above-mentioned general meeting of the association in march , sketching a constitution for a new university, and asking for the appointment of a statutory commission to carry it out. the university thus constituted was to be governed by a court, half of which should consist of university professors] ("as for a government by professors only" [he writes in the "times" of december , ], "the fact of their being specialists is against them. most of them are broad-minded; practical men; some are good administrators. but, unfortunately, there is among them, as in other professions, a fair sprinkling of one-idea'd fanatics, ignorant of the commonest conventions of official relation, and content with nothing if they cannot get everything their own way. it is these persons who, with the very highest and purest intentions, would ruin any administrative body unless they were counterpoised by non-professional, common-sense members of recognised weight and authority in the conduct of affairs." [furthermore, against the adoption of a german university system, he continues], "in holding up the university of berlin as our model, i think you fail to attach sufficient weight to the considerations that there is no minister of public instruction in these realms; that a great many of us would rather have no university at all than one under the control of such a minister, and whose highest representatives might come to be, not the fittest men, but those who stood foremost in the good graces of the powers that be, whether demos, ministry, or sovereign."); [it was to include such faculties as law, engineering, medicine, while it was to bring into connection the various teaching bodies scattered over london. the proposers themselves recognised that the scheme was not ideal, but a compromise which at least would not hamper further progress, and would supersede the gresham scheme, which they regarded as a barrier to all future academic reform. the association as thus constituted huxley now joined, and was immediately asked to accept the presidency, not that he should do any more militant work than he was disposed to attempt, but simply that he should sit like moltke in his tent and keep an eye on the campaign. he felt it almost a point of honour not to refuse his best services to a cause he had always had at heart, though he wrote:--] there are some points in which i go further than your proposals, but they are so much, to my mind, in the right direction that i gladly support them. [and again:--] the association scheme is undoubtedly a compromise--but it is a compromise which takes us the right way, while the former schemes led nowhere except to chaos. [he writes to sir w.h. flower:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, june , . my dear flower, i had quite given up the hope that anything but some wretched compromise would come of the university commission, when i found, to my surprise, no less than gratification, that a strong party among the younger men were vigorously taking the matter up in the right (that is, my) sense. in spite of all my good resolves to be a "hermit old in mossy cell," i have enlisted--for ambulance service if nothing better. the move is too important to spare oneself if one can be of any good. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [of his work in this position professor karl pearson says, in a letter to me:-- professor huxley gallantly came to lead a somewhat forlorn hope,--that of establishing a really great university in london. he worked, as may naturally be supposed, with energy and persistence, and one, who like myself was not in full sympathy with the lines he took, can but admire the vigour he threw into the movement. nothing came of it practically;...but professor huxley's leadership did, at any rate, a great deal to unite the london teachers, and raise their ideal of a true university, while at the same time helping to repress the self-interests of many persons and institutions which had been before very much to the front. clearly this is the sort of thing referred to in a letter of december :--] got through the association business very well, but had to show that i am the kind of head that does not lend itself to wagging by the tail. [the senate of the university of london showed practical unanimity in accepting the idea of taking on teaching functions if the commission should think it desirable, though the medical schools were still desirous of getting their degree granted on the mere license examination of the royal colleges, without any evidence of general culture or academical training, and on july huxley writes:--] the decision of the representatives of the medical schools is just such as i should have expected. i always told my colleagues in the senate of the university of london that such was their view, and that, in the words of pears' advertisement, they "would not be happy till they got it." and they won't get it unless the medical examining bodies are connected into a distinct degree-giving body. [in the course of the autumn matters seemed to be progressing. he writes to sir m. foster, november :--] i am delighted to say that paget [sir james paget, vice-chancellor of the university.] has taken up the game, and i am going to a committee of the university this day week to try my powers of persuasion. if the senate can only be got to see where salvation lies and strike hard without any fooling over details, we shall do a great stroke of business for the future generations of londoners. [and by the end of the year he writes:--] i think we are going to get something done, as the senate of the university of london has come into line with us, and i hope university college will do the same. [meanwhile he was asked if he would appear before the commission and give evidence--to "talk without interrogation" so as to convince the commission of the inadequacy of the teaching of science in general and of the absence of means and appliances for the higher teaching. this he did early in january , representing partly his own views, partly those of the association, to whom he read what he proposed to say, before being authorised to speak on their behalf. his position is finally defined by the following letter:--] february , . dear professor weldon, i wish anything i have said or shall say about the organisation of the new university to be taken in connection with the following postulates which i conceive to be of primary importance: . the new university is not to be a separate body from the present university of london. . all persons giving academic instruction of a certain rank are to be "university professors." . the senate is to contain a large proportion of representatives of the "university professors" with a limited term of office (say five years). . the university chest is to receive all fees and other funds for university purposes; and the professors are to be paid out of it, according to work done for the university--thus putting an end to the present commercial competition of teaching institutions. . in all questions of teaching, examination, and discipline the authority of the senate is to be supreme--(saving appeal to the privy council). your questions will be readily answered if these postulates are kept in view. in the case you put, the temptation to rivalry would not exist; and i should imagine that the senate would refuse funds for the purpose of duplicating an existing institution, unless very strong grounds for so doing could be shown. in short, they would adopt the plan which commends itself to you. that to which i am utterly opposed is the creation of an established church scientific, with a hierarchical organisation and a professorial episcopate. i am fully agreed with you that all trading competition between different teaching institutions is a thing to be abolished (see number above). on the other hand, intellectual competition is a very good thing, and perfect freedom of learning and teaching the best of all things. if you put a physical, chemical, or biological bishop at the head of the teachers of those sciences in london, you will do your best to destroy that freedom. my bar to any catastrophe of that sort lies in number . let us take the case of biology. i suppose there will be, at least, half a dozen professoriates in different branches of this subject each professor will be giving the same amount of time and energy to university work, and will deserve the same pay. each, if he is worth his salt, will be a man holding his own views on general questions, and having as good a right as any other to be heard. why is one to be given a higher rank and vastly greater practical influence than all the rest? why should not each be a "university professor" and have his turn on the senate in influencing the general policy of the university? the nature of things drives men more and more into the position of specialists. why should one specialist represent a whole branch of science better than another, in council or in administration? i am afraid we cannot build upon the analogy of cambridge. in the first place, london is not cambridge; and, in the second, michael fosters do not grow on every bush. the besetting sin of able men is impatience of contradiction and of criticism. even those who do their best to resist the temptation, yield to it almost unconsciously and become the tools of toadies and flatterers. "authorities," "disciples," and "schools" are the curse of science; and do more to interfere with the work of the scientific spirit than all its enemies. thus you will understand why i have so strongly opposed "absorption." no one can feel more strongly than i the need of getting the present chaos into order and putting an end to the absurd waste of money and energy. but i believe that end may be attained by the method of unification which i have suggested; without bringing in its train the evils which will inevitably flow from "absorptive" regimentation. what i want to see is such an organisation of the means and appliances of university instruction in all its branches, as will conduce to the largest possible freedom of research, learning, and teaching. and if anybody will show me a better way to that end than through the measures i have suggested, i will gladly leave all and follow him. i am yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--will you be so kind as to let professor lankester see this letter, as i am writing to him and shirk the labour of going over the whole ground again. [his last public activity, indeed, was on behalf of university reform, when in january he represented not only the association, but, in the enforced absence of sir james paget, the senate of the university also, on a deputation to lord rosebery, then prime minister, to whom he wrote asking if he were willing to receive such a deputation.] hodeslea, eastbourne, december , . dear lord rosebery, a number of scientific people, in fact i think i may say all the leading men of science, and especially teachers in the country, are very anxious to see the university of london reorganised upon the general principles set forth in the report of the last royal commission. to this end nothing is wanted but the institution of a strong statutory commission; and we have all been hoping that a bill would be introduced for that purpose. it is rumoured that there are lions in the path. but even lions are occasionally induced to retreat by the sight of a large body of beaters. and some of us think that such a deputation as would willingly wait on you, might hasten the desired movement. we proposed something of the kind to mr. acland months ago, but nothing has come of the suggestion--not, i am sure, from any want of good will to our cause on his part. within the last few days i have been so strongly urged to bring the matter before you, that in spite of some doubts as to the propriety of going beyond my immediate chief the v.p. [the vice-president of the committee of council, mr. acland.] even in my private capacity i venture to make this appeal. i am, dear lord rosebery, faithfully yours, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [several letters of this year touch on educational subjects. the following advice as to the best training for a boy in science, was addressed to mr. briton riviere, r.a.] hodeslea, june , . my dear riviere, touching the training of your boy who wants to go in for science, i expect you will have to make a compromise between that which is theoretically desirable and that which is practically most advantageous, things being as they are. though i say it that shouldn't, i don't believe there is so good a training in physical science to be got anywhere as in our college at south kensington. but bernard could hardly with advantage take this up until he is seventeen at least. what he would profit by most as a preliminary, is training in the habit of expressing himself well and clearly in english; training in mathematics and the elements of physical science; in french and german, so as to read those languages easily--especially german; in drawing--not for hifalutin art, of which he will probably have enough in the blood--but accurate dry reproduction of form--one of the best disciplines of the powers of observation extant. on the other hand, in the way of practical advantage in any career, there is a great deal to be said for sending a clever boy to oxford or cambridge. there are not only the exhibitions and scholarships, but there is the rubbing shoulders with the coming generation which puts a man in touch with his contemporaries as hardly anything else can do. a very good scientific education is to be had at both cambridge and oxford, especially cambridge now. in the case of sending to the university, putting through the latin and greek mill will be indispensable. and if he is not going to make the classics a serious study, there will be a serious waste of time and energy. so much in all these matters depends on the x contained in the boy himself. if he has the physical and mental energy to make a mark in science, i should drive him straight at science, taking care that he got a literary training through english, french, and german. an average capacity, on the other hand, may be immensely helped by university means of flotation. but who in the world is to say how the x will turn out, before the real strain begins? one might as well prophesy the effect of a glass of "hot-with" when the relative quantities of brandy, water, and sugar are unknown. i am sure the large quantity of brandy and the very small quantity of sugar in my composition were suspected neither by myself, nor any one else, until the rows into which wicked men persisted in involving me began! and that reminds me that i forgot to tell the publishers to send you a copy of my last peace-offering [the "essays on controverted questions."], and that one will be sent you by to-morrow's post. there is nothing new except the prologue, the sweet reasonableness of which will, i hope, meet your approbation. it is not my fault if you have had to toil through this frightfully long screed; mrs. riviere, to whom our love, said you wanted it. "tu l'as voulu, georges dandin." ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following deals with state intervention in intermediate education:--] (for sunday morning's leisure, or take it to church and read it in your hat.) hodeslea, eastbourne, october , . my dear donnelly, best thanks for sending on my letter. i do not suppose it will do much good, but, at any rate, i thought i ought to try to prevent their making a mess of medical education. i like what i have seen of acland. he seemed to have both intelligence and volition. as to intermediate education i have never favoured the notion of state intervention in this direction. i think there are only two valid grounds for state meddling with education: the one the danger to the community which arises from dense ignorance; the other, the advantage to the community of giving capable men the chance of utilising their capacity. the first furnishes the justification for compulsory elementary education. if a child is taught reading, writing, drawing, and handiwork of some kind; the elements of mathematics, physics, and history, and i should add of political economy and geography; books will furnish him with everything he can possibly need to make him a competent citizen in any rank of life. if with such a start, he has not the capacity to get all he needs out of books, let him stop where he is. blow him up with intermediate education as much as you like, you will only do the fellow a mischief and lift him into a place for which he has no real qualification. people never will recollect, that mere learning and mere cleverness are of next to no value in life, while energy and intellectual grip, the things that are inborn and cannot be taught, are everything. the technical education act goes a long way to meet the second claim of the state; so far as scientific and industrial capacities are concerned. in a few years there will be no reason why any potential whitworth or faraday, in the three kingdoms, should not readily obtain the best education that is to be had, scientific or technical. the same will hold good for art. so the question that arises seems to me to be whether the state ought or ought not to do something of the same kind for literature, philosophy, history, and philology. i am inclined to think not, on the ground that the universities and public schools ought to do this very work, and that as soon as they cease to be clericalised seminaries they probably will do it. if the present government would only give up their irish fad--and bring in a bill to make it penal for any parson to hold any office in a public school or university or to presume to teach outside the pulpit--they should have my valuable support! i should not wonder if gladstone's mind is open on the subject. pity i am not sufficiently a persona grata with him to offer to go to hawarden and discuss it. i quite agree with you, therefore, that it will play the deuce if intermediate education is fossilised as it would be by any act prepared under present influences. the most i should like to see done, would be to help the youth of special literary, linguistic and so forth, capacity, to get the best training in their special line. it was lucky we did not go to you. my wife got an awful dose of neuralgia and general upset, and was laid up at the hotel. the house was not quite finished inside, but we came in on tuesday, and she has been getting better ever since in spite of the gale. i am sorry to hear of the recurrence of influenza. it is a beastly thing. lord justice bowen told me he has had it every time it has been in the country. you must come and try eastbourne air as soon as we are settled. with our love to you and mrs. donnelly. ever yours, t.h. huxley. better be careful, i return all letters on which r.h. is not in full. [an allusion to his recent privy councillorship. see below.] [the next is to a young man with aspirations after an intellectual career, who asked his advice as to the propriety of throwing up his business, and plunging into literature or science:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . dear sir, i am very sorry that the pressure of other occupations has prevented me from sending an earlier reply to your letter. in my opinion a man's first duty is to find a way of supporting himself, thereby relieving other people of the necessity of supporting him. moreover, the learning to do work of practical value in the world, in an exact and careful manner, is of itself a very important education, the effects of which make themselves felt in all other pursuits. the habit of doing that which you do not care about when you would much rather be doing something else, is invaluable. it would have saved me a frightful waste of time if i had ever had it drilled into me in youth. success in any scientific career requires an unusual equipment of capacity, industry, and energy. if you possess that equipment you will find leisure enough after your daily commercial work is over, to make an opening in the scientific ranks for yourself. if you do not, you had better stick to commerce. nothing is less to be desired than the fate of a young man, who, as the scotch proverb says, in "trying to make a spoon spoils a horn," and becomes a mere hanger-on in literature or in science, when he might have been a useful and a valuable member of society in other occupations. i think that your father ought to see this letter. yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the last of the series, addressed to the secretary of a free-thought association, expresses his firmly rooted disgust at the use of mere ribaldry in attacking the theological husks which enclose a religious ideal. may , . dear sir, i regret that i am unable to comply with the wish of your committee. for one thing, i am engaged in work which i do not care to interrupt, and for another, i always make it a rule in these matters to "fight for my own hand." i do not desire that any one should share my responsibility for what i think fit to say, and i do not wish to be responsible for the opinions and modes of expression of other persons. i do not say this with any reference to mr. -- who is a sober and careful writer. but both as a matter of principle and one of policy, i strongly demur to a great deal of what appears as "free thought" literature, and i object to be in any way connected with it. heterodox ribaldry disgusts me, i confess, rather more than orthodox fanaticism. it is at once so easy; so stupid; such a complete anachronism in england, and so thoroughly calculated to disgust and repel the very thoughtful and serious people whom it ought to be the great aim to attract. old noll knew what he was about when he said that it was of no use to try to fight the gentlemen of england with tapsters and serving-men. it is quite as hopeless to fight christianity with scurrility. we want a regiment of ironsides. [this summer brought huxley a most unexpected distinction in the shape of admission to the privy council. mention has already been made (volume ) of his reasons for refusing to accept a title for distinction in science, apart from departmental administration. the proper recognition of science, he maintained, lay in the professional recognition of a man's work by his peers in science, the members of the learned societies of his own and other countries. but, as has been said, the privy councillorship was an office, not a title, although with a title attaching to the office; and in theory, at least, a scientific privy councillor might some day play an important part as an accredited representative of science, to be consulted officially by the government, should occasion arise. of a selection of letters on the subject, mostly answers to congratulations, i place first the one to sir m. foster, which gives the fullest account of the affair.] cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, august , . my dear foster, i am very glad you think i have done rightly about the p.c.; but in fact i could hardly help myself. years and years ago i was talking to donnelly about these things, and told him that so far as myself was concerned, i would have nothing to do with official decorations--didn't object to other people having them, especially heads of offices, like hooker and flower--but preferred to keep clear myself. but i added that there was one thing i did not mind telling him, because no english government would ever act upon my opinion--and that was that the p.c. was a fit and proper recognition for science and letters. i have no doubt that he has kept this in mind ever since--in fact lord salisbury's letter (which was very handsome) showed he had been told of my obiter dictum. donnelly was the first channel of inquiry whether i would accept, and was very strong that i should. so you see if i had wished to refuse it, it would have been difficult and ungracious. but, on the whole, i thought the precedent good. playfair tells me he tried to get it done in the case of faraday and babbage thirty years ago, and the thing broke down. moreover a wicked sense of the comedy of advancing such a pernicious heretic, helped a good deal. the worst of it is, i have just had a summons to go to osborne on thursday and it is as much as i shall be able to do. we have been in south wales, in the neighbourhood of the colliers, and are on our way to the wallers for the festival week at gloucester. we hope to get back to eastbourne in the latter half of september and find the house clean swept and garnished. after that, by the way, it is not nice to say that we shall hope to have a visit from mrs. foster and you. with our love to you both. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i am glad you are resting, but oh, why another congress! hodeslea, eastbourne, june , . my dear donnelly, you have been and done me at last, you betrayer of confidence. this is what comes of confiding one's pet weakness to a bosom-friend! but i can't deny my own words, or the accuracy of your devil of a memory--and, moreover, i think the precedent of great importance. i have always been dead against orders of merit and the like, but i think that men of letters and science who have been of use to the nation (lord knows if i have) may fairly be ranked among its nominal or actual councillors. as for yourself, it is only one more kindness on the top of a heap so big i shall say nothing about it. mrs. right honourable sends her love to you both, and promises not to be proud. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, august , . my dear donnelly, i began to think that lord salisbury had thought better of it--(i should not have been surprised at all if he had) and was going to leave me a p.p.c. instead of a p.c. when the announcement appeared yesterday. this morning, however, i received his own letter (dated the th), which had been following me about. a very nice letter it is too--he does the thing handsomely while he is about it. well, i think the thing is good for science; i am not such a self humbug as to pretend that my vanity is not pleasantly tickled; but i do not think there is any aspect of the affair more pleasant to me, than the evidence it affords of the strength of our old friendship. because with all respect for my noble friends, deuce a one would ever have thought of it, unless you had not only put it--but rubbed it--into their heads. i have not forgotten that private and confidential document that you were so disgusted to find had been delivered to me! you have tried it on before--so don't deny it. but bless my soul, how profound is old cole's remark about the humour of public affairs. to think of a conservative government--pride of the church--going out of its way to honour one not only of the wicked, but of the notoriousest and plain-spoken wickedness. my wife and i drove over to dolgelly yesterday--do you know it? one of the loveliest things in the three kingdoms--and every now and then had a laugh over this very quaint aspect of the affair. can you tell me what i shall have to do in the dim and distant future? i suppose i shall have to go and swear somewhere (i am always ready to do that on occasion). is admission to the awful presence of her majesty involved? shall i have to rig up again in that court suit, which i hoped was permanently laid up in lavender? resolve me these things. we shall be here i expect at least another week; and bring up at gloucester about the rd september. hope to get back to hodeslea latter part of september. ever yours faithfully. t.h. huxley. to sir j.d. hooker. august . you will have seen that i have been made a p.c. if i had been offered to be made a police constable i could not have been more flabbergasted than i was when the proposition came to me a few weeks ago. i will tell you the story of how it all came about when we meet. the archbishopric of canterbury is the only object of ambition that remains to me. come and be suffragan; there is plenty of room at lambeth and a capital garden! [to his youngest daughter:--] cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, august , . dearest babs, if lord salisbury had known my address, m-- and i should have had our little joke out before leaving saundersfoot [where he had been staying with his daughter.], as the letter was dated th. it must be a month since lord cranbrook desired donnelly to find out if i would accept the p.c., and as i heard no more about it up to the time of dissolution, i imagined there was a hitch somewhere. and really, the more i think of it the queerer does it seem, that a tory and church government should have delighted to honour the worst-famed heretic in the three kingdoms. i am sure donnelly has been at the bottom of it, as he is the only person to whom i ever spoke of the fitness of the p.c. for men of science and letters. the queer thing is that his chief and lord salisbury listened to the suggestion. tell jack he is simply snuffed out--younger sons of peers go with the herd of barts and knights, i believe. but a table of precedence is not to be had for love or money--and my anxiety is wearing. this place is as perfectly delightful as aberystwith was t'other... with best love to you all. ever your pater. to mrs. w.k. clifford. cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, august , . my dear lucy, i am glad to think that it is the honours that blush and not the recipient, for i am past that form of vascular congestion. it was known that the only peerage i would accept was a spiritual one; and as her majesty shares the not unnatural prejudice which led her illustrious predecessor (now some time dead) to object to give a bishopric to dean swift, it was thought she could not stand the promotion of dean huxley; would see * him in fact... * this is a pun. lord salisbury apologised for not pressing the matter, but pointed out that, as evolutionism is rapidly gaining ground among the people who have votes, it was probable, if not certain, that his eminent successor (whose mind is always open) would become a hot evolutionist before the expiration of the eight months' office which lord salisbury (who needs rest) means to allow him. and when eminent successor goes out, my bishopric will be among the dissolution honours. if her majesty objects she will be threatened with the immediate abolition of the house of lords, and the institution of a social democratic federation of counties, each with an army, navy, and diplomatic service of its own. i know you like to have the latest accurate intelligence, but this really must be considered confidential. as a p.c. i might lose my head for letting out state secrets. ever your affectionate pater. to sir joseph fayrer. cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, wales, august , . it is very pleasant to get the congratulations of an old friend like yourself. as we went to osborne the other day i looked at the old "victory" and remembered that six and forty years ago i went up her side to report myself on appointment, as a poor devil of an assistant surgeon. and i should not have got that far if you had not put it into my heed to apply to burnett. to sir joseph prestwich. cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, august , . my dear prestwich, best thanks for your congratulations. as i have certainly got more than my temporal deserts, the other "half" you speak of can be nothing less than a bishopric! may you live to see that dignity conferred; and go on writing such capital papers as the last you sent me, until i write myself your right reverend as well as right honourable old friend, t.h. huxley. to sir w.h. flower. cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth, august , . my dear flower, many thanks for your congratulations, with lady flower's postscript not forgotten. i should have answered your letter sooner, but i had to go to osborne last week in a hurry, kiss hands and do my swearing. it was very funny that the gladstone p.c.'s had the pleasure of welcoming the salisbury p.c.'s among their first official acts! i will gladly come to as many meetings of the trustees as i can. only you must not expect me in very severe weather like that so common last year. my first attack of pleurisy was dangerous and not painful; the second was painful and not dangerous; the third will probably be both painful and dangerous, and my commander-in-chief (who has a right to be heard in such matters) will not let me run the risk of it. but i have marked down october and november , and nothing short of snow shall stop me. as to what you want to do, getting butter out of a dog's mouth is an easier job than getting patronage out of that of a lawyer or an ecclesiastic. but i am always good for a forlorn hope, and we will have a try. we shall not be back at eastbourne till the latter half of september, and i doubt if we shall get into our house even then. we leave this for gloucester, where we are going to spend the festival week with my daughter to-morrow. with our love to you both, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i see a report that owen is sinking. poor old man; it seems queer that just as i am hoist to the top of my tree he should be going underground. but at life cannot be worth much. to mr. w.f. collier. cors-y-gedol hotel, barmouth water, august , . accept my wife's and my hearty thanks for your kind congratulations. when i was a mere boy i took for motto of an essay, "what is honour? who hath it? he that died o' wednesday," and although i have my full share of ambition and vanity, i doubt not, yet falstaff's philosophical observation has dominated my mind and acted as a sort of perpetual refrigerator to these passions. so i have gone my own way, sought for none of these things and expected none--and it would seem that the deepest schemer's policy could not have answered better. we must have a new beatitude, "blessed is the man who expecteth nothing," without its ordinary appendix. i tell jack [his son-in-law, hon. john collier.] i have worked hard for a dignity which will enable me to put down his aristocratic swaggering. [it took some time, however, to get used to the title, and it was october before he wrote:--] the feeling that "the right honourable" on my letters is a piece of chaff is wearing off, and i hope to get used to my appendix in time. [the "very quaint" ceremony of kissing hands is described at some length in a letter to mrs. huxley from london on his way back from osborne:--] great western hotel, august , , . p.m. i have just got back from osborne, and i find there are a few minutes to send you a letter--by the help of the extra halfpenny. first-rate weather there and back, a special train, carriage with postillions at the osborne landing-place, and a grand procession of officers of the new household and p.c.'s therein. then waiting about while the various "sticks" were delivered. then we were shown into the presence chamber where the queen sat at a table. we knelt as if we were going to say our prayers, holding a testament between two, while the clerk of the council read an oath of which i heard not a word. we each advanced to the queen, knelt and kissed her hand, retired backwards, and got sworn over again (lord knows what i promised and vowed this time also). then we shook hands with all the p.c.'s present, including lord lorne, and so exit backwards. it was all very curious... after that a capital lunch and back we came. ribblesdale and several other people i knew were of the party, and i found it very pleasant talking with him and jesse collings, who is a very interesting man. "oh," he said, "how i wish my poor mother, who was a labouring woman--a great noble woman--and brought us nine all up in right ways, could have been alive." very human and good and dignified too, i thought. he also used to tell how he was caught out when he thought to make use of the opportunity to secure a close view of the queen. looking up, he found her eyes fixed upon him; her majesty had clearly taken the opportunity to do the same by him. regarding the privy councillorship as an exceptional honour for science, over and above any recognition of his personal services, which he thought amply met by the civil list pension specially conferred upon him as an honour at his retirement from the public service, huxley was no little vexed at an article in "nature" for august (volume page ), reproaching the government for allowing him to leave the public service six years before, without recognition. accordingly he wrote to sir j. donnelly on august :--] it is very unfair to both liberal and conservative governments, who did much more for me than i expected, and i feel that i ought to contradict the statement without loss of time. so i have written the inclosed letter for publication in "nature". but as it is always a delicate business to meddle with official matters, i wish you would see if i have said anything more than i ought to say in the latter half of the letter. if so, please strike it out, and let the first half go. i had a narrow shave to get down to osborne and kiss hands on thursday. what a quaint ceremony it is! the humour of the situation was that we three hot unionists, white ridley, jesse collings, and i, were escorted by the whole gladstonian household. [and again on august :--] in the interview i had with lord salisbury on the subject of an order of merit--ages ago [see above.]--i expressly gave him to understand that i considered myself out of the running--having already received more than i had any right to expect. and when he has gone out of his way to do honour to science, it is stupid of "nature" to strike the discordant note. [his letter appeared in "nature" of september (volume page ). in it he declared that both lord salisbury's and mr. gladstone's governments had given him substantial recognition that lord iddesleigh had put the civil list pension expressly as an honour; and finally, that he himself placed this last honour in the category of] "unearned increments." chapter . . . [the following letters are mainly of personal interest; some merely illustrate the humorous turn he would give to his more intimate correspondence; others strike a more serious note, especially those to friends whose powers were threatened by overwork or ill-health. with these may fitly come two other letters; one to a friend on his re-marriage, the other to his daughter, in reply to a birthday letter.] my wife and i send our warmest good wishes to your future wife and yourself. i cannot but think that those who are parted from us, if they have cognisance of what goes on in this world, must rejoice over everything that renders life better and brighter for the sojourners in it-- especially of those who are dear to them. at least, that would be my feeling. please commend us to miss --, and beg her not to put us on the "index," because we count ourselves among your oldest and warmest friends. [to his daughter, mrs. roller:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, may , . it was very pleasant to get your birthday letter and the photograph, which is charming. the love you children show us, warms our old age better than the sun. for myself the sting of remembering troops of follies and errors, is best alleviated by the thought that they may make me better able to help those who have to go through like experiences, and who are so dear to me that i would willingly pay an even heavier price, to be of use. depend upon it, that confounded "just man who needed no repentance" was a very poor sort of a father. but perhaps his daughters were "just women" of the same type; and the family circle as warm as the interior of an ice-pail. [a certain artist, who wanted to have huxley sit to him, tried to manage the matter through his son-in-law, hon. j. collier, to whom the following is addressed:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, january , . my dear jack, inclosed is a letter for you. will you commit the indiscretion of sending it on to mr. a.b. if you see no reason to the contrary? i hope the subsequent proceedings will interest you no more. i am sorry you have been so bothered by the critter--but in point of pertinacity he has met his match. (i have no objection to your saying that your father-in-law is a brute, if you think that will soften his disappointment.) here the weather has been tropical. the bananas in the new garden are nearly ripe, and the cocoanuts are coming on. but of course you expect this, for if it is unbearably sunny in london what must it be here? all our loves to all of you. ever yours affectionately, pater. hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear hooker, i hear you have influenza rampaging about the camp [the name of sir j. hooker's house at sunningdale.] and i want to point out to you that if you want a regular bad bout of it, the best thing you can do is to go home next thursday evening, at ten o'clock at night, and plunge into the thick of the microbes, tired and chilled. if you don't get it then, you will, at any rate, have the satisfaction of feeling that you have done your best! i am going to the x, but then you see i fly straight after dinner to collier's per cab, and there is no particular microbe army in eton avenue lying in wait for me. either let me see after the dinner, or sleep in town, and don't worry. yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear hooker, i have just received a notice that hirst's funeral is to-morrow. but we are in the midst of the bitterest easterly gale and snowfall we have had all the winter, and there is no sign of the weather mending. neither you nor i have any business to commit suicide for that which after all is a mere sign of the affection we have no need to prove for our dear old friend, and the chances are that half an hour cold chapel and grave-side on a day like this would finish us. i write this not that i imagine you would think of going, but because my last note spoke so decidedly of my own intention. but who could have anticipated this sudden reversion to arctic conditions! ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . my dear donnelly, my wife got better and was out for a while yesterday, but she is knocked up again to-day. it would have been very pleasant to see you both, but you must not come down till we get fixed with a new cook and maid, as i believe we are to be in a week or so. none of your hotel-going! i mourn over the departure of the present cookie--i believe she is going for no other reason than that she is afraid the house will fall on such ungodly people as we are, and involve her in the ruins. that is the modern martyrdom--you don't roast infidels, but people who can roast go to the pious. lovely day to-day, nothing but east wind to remind one it is not summer.--crocuses coming out at last. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . my dear hooker, i had to run up to town on friday and forgot your letter. the x is a puzzle--i will stick by the ship as long as you do, depend upon that. i fear we can hardly expect to see dear old tyndall there again. as for myself, i dare not venture when snow is on the ground, as on the last two occasions. and now, i am sorry to say, there is another possible impediment in my wife's state of health. i have had a very anxious time of it altogether lately. but sich is life! my sagacious grand-daughter joyce (gone home now) observed to her grandmother some time ago--"i don't want to grow up." "why don't you want to grow up?" "because i notice that grown-up people have a great deal of trouble." sagacious philosopheress of ! ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, april , . my dear hooker, as i so often tell my wife, "your confounded sense of duty will be the ruin of you." you really, club or no club, had no business to be travelling in such a bitter east wind. however, i hope the recent sunshine has set you up again. barring snow or any other catastrophe, i will be at "the club" dinner on the th and help elect the p.r.s. i don't think i go more than once a year, and like you i find the smaller the pleasanter meetings. i was very sorry to see bowman's death. what a first-rate man of science he would have been if the professorship at king's college had been pounds a year. but it was mere starvation when he held it. i am glad to say that my wife is much better--thank yours for her very kind sympathy. i was very down the last time i wrote to you. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, june , . my dear foster, my wife has been writing to mrs. foster to arrange for your visit, which will be heartily welcome. now i don't want to croak. no one knows better than i, the fatal necessity for any one in your position: more than that, the duty in many cases of plunging into public functions, and all the guttle, guzzle, and gammon therewith connected. but do let me hold myself up as the horrid example of what comes of that sort of thing for men who have to work as you are doing and i have done. to be sure you are a "lungy" man and i am a "livery" man, so that your chances of escaping candle-snuff accumulations with melancholic prostration are much better. nevertheless take care. the pitcher is a very valuable piece of crockery, and i don't want to live to see it cracked by going to the well once too often. i am in great spirits about the new university movement, and have told the rising generation that this old hulk is ready to be towed out into line of battle, if they think fit, which is more commendable to my public spirit than my prudence. ever yours, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, june , . my dear romanes, my wife and i, no less than the hookers who have been paying us a short visit, were very much grieved to hear that such a serious trouble has befallen you. in such cases as yours (as i am sure your doctors have told you) hygienic conditions are everything--good air and idleness, construed strictly, among the chief. you should do as i have done--set up a garden and water it yourself for two hours every day, besides pottering about to see how things grow (or don't grow this weather) for a couple more. sundry box-trees, the majority of which have been getting browner every day since i planted them three months ago, have interested me almost as much as the general election. they typify the empire with the g.o.m. at work at the root of it! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, october , . my dear romanes, i throw dust and ashes on my head for having left your letter almost a week unanswered. but i went to tennyson's funeral; and since then my whole mind has been given to finishing the reply forced upon me by harrison's article in the "fortnightly", and i have let correspondence slide. i think it will entertain you when it appears in november--and perhaps interest--by the adumbration of the line i mean to take if ever that "romanes" lecture at oxford comes off. as to madeira--i do not think you could do better. you can have as much quiet there as in venice, for there are next to no carts or carriages. i was at an excellent hotel, the "bona vista," kept by an englishman in excellent order, and delightfully situated on the heights outside funchal. when once acclimatised and able to bear moderate fatigue, i should say nothing would be more delightful and invigorating than to take tents and make the round of the island. there is nothing i have seen anywhere which surpasses the cliff scenery of the north side, or on the way thither, the forest of heaths as big as sycamores. there is a matter of natural history which might occupy without fatiguing you, and especially without calling for any great use of the eyes. that is the effect of madeiran climate on english plants transported there--and the way in which the latter are beating the natives. there is a doctor who has lots of information on the topic. you may trust anything but his physic. [the rest of the letter gives details about scientific literature touching madeira. a piece of advice to his son anent building a house:--] september , . lastly and biggestly, don't promise anything, agree to anything, nor sign anything (swear you are an "illiterate voter" rather than this last) without advice--or you may find yourself in a legal quagmire. builders, as a rule, are on a level with horse-dealers in point of honesty--i could tell you some pretty stories from my small experience of them. [the next, to lord farrer, is apropos of quite an extensive correspondence in the "times" as to the correct reading of the well-known lines about the missionary and the cassowary, to which both huxley and lord farrer had contributed their own reminiscences.] hodeslea, october , . my dear farrer, if you were a missionary in the heat of timbuctoo you'd wear nought but a nice and airy pair of bands--p'raps cassock too. don't you see the fine touch of local colour in my version! is it not obvious to everybody who understands the methods of high a priori criticism that this consideration entirely outweighs the merely empirical fact that your version dates back to --which i must admit is before my adolescence? it is obvious to the meanest capacity that mine must be the original text in "idee," whatever your wretched "wirklichkeit" may have to say to the matter. and where, i should like to know, is a glimmer of a scintilla of a hint that the missionary was a dissenter? i claim him for my dear national church. ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the following is about a document which he had forgotten that he wrote:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . my dear donnelly, it is obvious that you have somebody in the department who is an adept in the imitation of handwriting. as there is no way of proving a negative, and i am too loyal to raise a scandal, i will just father the scrawl. positively, i had forgotten all about the business. i suppose because i did not hear who was appointed. it would be a good argument for turning people out of office after ! but i have always had rather too much of the lawyer faculty of forgetting things when they are done with. it was very jolly to have you here, and on principles of christian benevolence you must not be so long in coming again. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i do not remember being guilty of paying postage--but that doesn't count for much. [the following is an answer to one of the unexpected inquiries which would arrive from all quarters. a member of one of the religious orders working in the church of england wrote for an authoritative statement on the following point, suggested by passages in section of chapter of the "elementary physiology":--when the blessed sacrament, consisting, temporally and mundanely speaking, of a wheaten wafer and some wine, is received after about seven hours' fast, is it or is it not "voided like other meats"? in other words, does it not become completely absorbed for the sustenance of the body? huxley's help in this physiological question--and his answer was to be used in polemical discussion--was sought because an answer from him would be decisive and would obviate the repetition of statements which to a catholic were painfully irreverent.] hodeslea, february , . sir, i regret that you have had to wait so long for a reply to your letter of the th. your question required careful consideration, and i have been much occupied with other matters. you ask ( ), whether the sacramental bread is or is not "voided like other meats"? that depends on what you mean, firstly by "voided," and, secondly, by "other meats." suppose any "meat" (i take the word to include drink) to contain no indigestible residuum, there need not be anything "voided" at all--if by "voiding" is meant expulsion from the lower intestine. such a meat might be "completely absorbed for the sustenance of the body." nevertheless, its elements, in fresh combinations, would be eventually "voided" through other channels, e.g. the lungs and kidneys. thus i should say that under normal circumstances all "meats" (that is to say, the material substance of them) are voided sooner or later. now, as to the particular case of the sacramental wafer and wine. taking their composition and the circumstances of administration to be as you state them, it is my opinion that a small residuum will be left undigested, and will be voided by the intestine, while by far the greater part will be absorbed and eventually "voided" by the lungs, skin, and kidneys. if any one asserts that the wafer and wine are voided by the intestine as such, that the "pure flour and water" of which the wafer consists pass out unchanged, i am of opinion he is in error. on the other hand, if any one maintains that the material substance of the wafer persists, while its accidents change, within the body, and that this identical substance is sooner or later voided, i do not see how he is to be driven out of that position by any scientific reasoning. on the contrary, there is every reason to believe that the elementary particles of the wafer and of the wine which enter the body never lose their identity, or even alter their mass. if one could see one of the atoms of carbon which enter into the composition of the wafer, i conceive it could be followed the whole way--from the mouth to the organ by which it escapes--just as a bit of floating charcoal might be followed into, through, and out of a whirlpool. [on october , , died lord tennyson. in the course of his busy life, huxley had not been thrown very closely into contact with him; they would meet at the metaphysical society, of which tennyson was a silent member; and in the "life of tennyson" two occasions are recorded on which huxley visited him. november , . mr. huxley and mr. knowles arrived here (aldworth) on a visit. mr. huxley was charming. we had much talk. he was chivalrous, wide, and earnest, so that one could not but enjoy talking with him. there was a discussion on george eliot's humility. huxley and a. both thought her a humble woman, despite a dogmatic manner of assertion that had come upon her latterly in her writings. (op. cit. .) march , . professor tyndall and mr. huxley called. mr. huxley seemed to be universal in his interest, and to have keen enjoyment of life. he spoke of "in memoriam". (ibid. .) with this may be compared one of mr. wilfrid ward's reminiscences ("nineteenth century" august ). "huxley once spoke strongly of the insight into scientific method shown in tennyson's 'in memoriam', and pronounced it to be quite equal to that of the greatest experts." this view of tennyson appears again in a letter to sir m. foster, the secretary of the royal society:--] was not tennyson a fellow of the royal society? if so, should not the president and council take some notice of his death and delegate some one to the funeral to represent them? very likely you have thought of it already. he was the only modern poet, in fact i think the only poet since the time of lucretius, who has taken the trouble to understand the work and tendency of the men of science. [but this was not the only side from which he regarded poetry. he had a keen sense for beauty, the artistic perfection of expression, whether in poetry, prose, or conversation. tennyson's talk he described thus: "doric beauty is its characteristic--perfect simplicity, without any ornament or anything artificial." and again, to quote mr. wilfrid ward's reminiscences:-- tennyson he considered the greatest english master of melody except spenser and keats. i told him of tennyson's insensibility to music, and he replied that it was curious that scientific men, as a rule, had more appreciation of music than poets or men of letters. he told me of one long talk he had had with tennyson, and added that immortality was the one dogma to which tennyson was passionately devoted. of browning, huxley said]: "he really has music in him. read his poem "the thrush" and you will see it. tennyson said to me," [he added], "that browning had plenty of music in him, but he could not get it out." eastbourne, october , . my dear tyndall, i think you will like to hear that the funeral yesterday lacked nothing to make it worthy of the dead or the living. bright sunshine streamed through the windows of the nave, while the choir was in half gloom, and as each shaft of light illuminated the flower-covered bier as it slowly travelled on, one thought of the bright succession of his works between the darkness before and the darkness after. i am glad to say that the royal society was represented by four of its chief officers, and nine of the commonalty, including myself. tennyson has a right to that, as the first poet since lucretius who has understood the drift of science. we have heard nothing of you and your wife for ages. ask her to give us news, good news i hope, of both. my wife is better than she was, and joins with me in love. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [on his way home from the funeral in westminster abbey, huxley passed the time in the train by shaping out some lines on the dead poet, the form of them suggested partly by some verses of his wife's, partly by schiller's gib diesen todten mir heraus, ich muss ihn wieder haben [don carlos, scene .], which came back to his mind in the abbey. the lines were published in the "nineteenth century" for november . he declared that he deserved no credit for the verses; they merely came to him in the train. his own comparison of them with the sheaf of professed poets' odes which also appeared in the same magazine, comes in a letter to his wife, to whom he sent the poem as soon as it appeared in print.] i know you want to see the poem, so i have cut it and the rest out of the "nineteenth" just arrived, and sent it. if i wore to pass judgment upon it in comparison with the others, i should say, that as to style it is hammered, and as to feeling human. they are castings of much prettier pattern and of mainly poetico-classical educated-class sentiment. i do not think there is a line of mine one of my old working-class audience would have boggled over. i would give a penny for john burns' thoughts about it. (n.b.--highly impartial and valuable criticism.) [he also wrote to professor romanes, who had been moved by this new departure to send him a volume of his own poems:--] hodeslea, november , . my dear romanes, i must send you a line to thank you very much for your volume of poems. a swift glance shows me much that has my strong sympathy--notably "pater loquitur," which i shall read to my wife as soon as i get her back. against all troubles (and i have had my share) i weigh a wife-comrade "treu und fest" in all emergencies. i have a great respect for the nazarenism of jesus--very little for later "christianity." but the only religion that appeals to me is prophetic judaism. add to it something from the best stoics and something from spinoza and something from goethe, and there is a religion for men. some of these days i think i will make a cento out of the works of these people. i find it hard enough to write decent prose and have usually stuck to that. the "gib diesen todten" i am hardly responsible for, as it did itself coming down here in the train after tennyson's funeral. the notion came into my head in the abbey. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [this winter also sir r. owen died, and was buried at ham on december . the grave ends all quarrels, and huxley intended to be present at the funeral. but as he wrote to dr. foster on the rd:--] i had a hard morning's work at university college yesterday, and what with the meeting of the previous evening and that infernal fog, i felt so seedy that i made up my mind to go straight home and be quiet... there has been a bitter north-easter all day here, and if the like has prevailed at ham i am glad i kept out of it, as i am by no means fit to cope with anything of that kind to-day. i do not think i was bound to offer myself up to the manes of the departed, however satisfactory that might have been to the poor old man. peace be with him! [but the old-standing personal differences between the two made it difficult for him to decide what to do with regard to a meeting to raise some memorial to the great anatomist. he writes again to sir m. foster, january , :--] what am i to do about the meeting about owen's statue on the st? i do not wish to pose either as a humbugging approver or as a sulky disapprover. the man did honest work, enough to deserve his statue, and that is all that concerns the public. [and on the th:--] i am inclined to think that i had better attend the meeting at all costs. but i do not see why i should speak unless i am called upon to do so. i have no earthly objection to say all that i honestly can of good about owen's work--and there is much to be said about some of it--on the contrary, i should be well pleased to do so. but i have no reparation to make; if the business were to come over again, i should do as i did. my opinion of the man's character is exactly what it was, and under the circumstances there is a sort of hypocrisy about volunteering anything, which goes against my grain. the best position for me would be to be asked to second the resolution for the statue--then the proposer would have the field of personal fiction and butter-boat all to himself. to sir w.h. flower. december , . i think you are quite right in taking an active share in the movement for the memorial. when a man is dead and can do no more harm, one must do a sum in subtraction:-- merits, deserts over x+x+x and if the x's are not all minus quantities, give him credit accordingly. but i think that in your appeal, for which the committee will be responsible, it is this balance of solid scientific merit--a good big one in owen's case after all deductions--which should be alone referred to. if you follow the example of "vanity fair" and call him "a simple-minded man, who had he been otherwise, would long ago have adorned a title," some of us may choke. gladstone, samuel of oxford, and owen belong to a very curious type of humanity, with many excellent and even great qualities and one fatal defect--utter untrustworthiness. peace be with two of them, and may the political death of the third be speedy and painless! with our united best wishes, ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [and on january , , he writes of the meeting:--] my dear hooker, ...what queer corners one gets into if one only lives long enough! the grim humour of the situation when i was seconding the proposal for a statue to owen yesterday tickled me a good deal. i do not know how they will report me in the "times", but if they do it properly i think you will see that i said no word upon which i could not stand cross-examination. i chose the office of seconder in order that i might clearly define my position and stop the mouths of blasphemers--who would have ascribed silence or absence to all sorts of bad motives. whatever the man might be, he did a lot of first-rate work, and now that he can do no more mischief he has a right to his wages for it. if i only live another ten years i expect to be made a saint of myself. "many a better man has been made a saint of," as old davie hume said to his housekeeper when they chalked up "st. david's street" on his wall. we have been jogging along pretty well, but wife has been creaky, and i got done up in a brutal london fog struggling with the worse fog of the new university. i am very glad you like my poetical adventure. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [this speech had an unexpected sequel. owen's grandson was so much struck by it that he wrote asking huxley to undertake a critical account of his anatomical work for his biography,--another most unexpected turn of events. it is not often that a conspicuous opponent of a man's speculations is asked to pass judgment upon his entire work. [see below.] at the end of the year an anonymous attack upon the administration of the royal society was the occasion for some characteristic words on the endurance of abuse to his old friend, m. foster, then secretary of the royal society.] december , . my dear foster, the braying of my donkey prevented me from sending a word of sympathy about the noise made by yours...let not the heart be vexed because of these sons of belial. it is all sound and fury with nothing at the bottom of it, and will leave no trace a year hence. i have been abused a deal worse--without the least effect on my constitution or my comfort. in fact, i am told that harrison is abusing me just now like a pickpocket in the "fortnightly", and i only make the philosophical reflection, no wonder! and doubt if the reading it is worth half a crown. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [the following letter to mr. clodd, thanking him for the new edition of bates' "naturalist on the amazons", helps to remove a reproach sometimes brought against the royal society, in that it ignored the claims of distinguished men of science to membership of the society:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, december , . my dear mr. clodd, many thanks for the new edition of "bates." i was reading the life last night with great interest; some of the letters you have printed are admirable. lyell is hit off to the life. i never read a more penetrating character-sketch. hooker's letter of advice is as sage as might be expected from a man who practised what he preached about as much as i have done. i shall find material for chaff the next time my old friend and i meet. i think you are a little hard on the trustees of the british museum, and especially on the royal society. the former are hampered by the treasury and the civil service regulations. if a bates turned up now i doubt if one could appoint him, however much one wished it, unless he would submit to some idiotic examination. as to the royal society, i undertake to say that bates might have been elected fifteen years earlier if he had so pleased. but the council cannot elect a man unless he is proposed, and i always understood that it was the res angusta which stood in the way. it is the same with --. twenty years ago the royal society awarded him the royal medal, which is about as broad an invitation to join us as we could well give a man. in fact, i do not think he has behaved well in quite ignoring it. formerly there was a heavy entrance fee as well as the annual subscription. but a dozen or fifteen years ago the more pecunious fellows raised a large sum of money for the purpose of abolishing this barrier. at present a man has to pay only pounds a year and no entrance. i believe the publications of the society, which he gets, will sell for more. [the "fee reduction fund," as it is now called, enables the society to relieve a fellow from the payment even of his annual fee, in that being f.r.s. costs him nothing.] so you see it is not the fault of the royal society if anybody who ought to be in keeps out on the score of means. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the year was, save for the death of three old friends, andrew clark, jowett, and tyndall, one of the most tranquil and peaceful in huxley's whole life. he entered upon no direct controversy; he published no magazine articles; to the general misapprehension of the drift of his romanes lecture he only replied in the comprehensive form of prolegomena to a reprint of the lecture. he began to publish his scattered essays in a uniform series, writing an introduction to each volume. while collecting his "darwiniana" for the second volume, he wrote to mr. clodd:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . i was looking through "man's place in nature" the other day. i do not think there is a word i need delete, nor anything i need add except in confirmation and extension of the doctrine there laid down. that is great good fortune for a book thirty years old, and one that a very shrewd friend of mine implored me not to publish, as it would certainly ruin all my prospects. i said, like the french fox-hunter in "punch", "i shall try." [the shrewd friend in question was none other than sir william lawrence, whose own experiences after publishing his book "on man", "which now might be read in a sunday school without surprising anybody," are alluded to in volume . he had the satisfaction of passing on his unfinished work upon spirula to efficient hands for completion; and in the way of new occupation, was thinking of some day "taking up the threads of late evolutionary speculation" in the theories of weismann and others [see letter of september , to romanes.], while actually planning out and reading for a series of "working-men's lectures on the bible," in which he should present to the unlearned the results of scientific study of the documents, and do for theology what he had done for zoology thirty years before. the scheme drawn out in his note-book runs as follows:-- . the subject and the method of treating it. . physical conditions:--the place of palestine in the old world. . the rise of israel:--judges, samuel, kings as far as jeroboam ii. . the fall of israel. . the rise and progress of judaism. theocracy. . the final dispersion. . prophetism. . nazarenism. . christianity. . muhammedanism. and . the mythologies. although this scheme was never carried out, yet it was constantly before huxley's mind during the two years left to him. if death, who had come so near eight years before, would go on seeming to forget him, he meant to use these last days of his life in an effort to illuminate one more portion of the field of knowledge for the world at large. as the physical strain of the romanes lecture and his liability to loss of voice warned him against any future attempt to deliver a course of lectures, he altered his design and prepared to put the substance of these lectures to working-men into a bible history for young people. and indeed, he had got so far with his preparation, that the latter heading was down in his list of work for the last year of his life, . but nothing of it was ever written. until the work was actually begun, even the framework upon which it was to be shaped remained in his mind, and the copious marks in his books of reference were the mere guide-posts to a strong memory, which retained not words and phrases, but salient facts and the knowledge of where to find them again. i find only two occasions on which he wrote to the "times" this year; one, when the crusade was begun to capture the board schools of london for sectarianism, and it was suggested that, when on the first school board, he had approved of some such definite dogmatic teaching. this he set right at once in the following letter of april , with which may be compared the letter to lord farrer of november , :--] in a leading article of your issue to-day you state, with perfect accuracy, that i supported the arrangement respecting religious instruction agreed to by the london school board in , and hitherto undisturbed. but you go on to say that "the persons who framed the rule" intended it to include definite teaching of such theological dogmas as the incarnation. i cannot say what may have been in the minds of the framers of the rule; but, assuredly, if i had dreamed that any such interpretation could fairly be put upon it, i should have opposed the arrangement to the best of my ability. in fact, a year before the rule was framed i wrote an article in the "contemporary review", entitled "the board schools--what they can do, and what they may do," in which i argued that the terms of the education act excluded such teaching as it is now proposed to include. and i supported my contention by the following citation from a speech delivered by mr. forster at the birkbeck institution in :-- "i have the fullest confidence that in the reading and explaining of the bible, what the children will be taught will be the great truths of christian life and conduct, which all of us desire they should know, and that no effort will be made to cram into their poor little minds, theological dogmas which their tender age prevents them from understanding." [the other was on a lighter, but equally perennial point of interest, being nothing less than the sea serpent. in the "times" of january , he writes, that while there is no reason against a fifty-foot serpent existing as in cretaceous seas, still the evidence for its existence is entirely inconclusive. he goes on to tell how a scientific friend's statement once almost convinced him until he read the quartermaster's deposition, which was supposed to corroborate it. the details made the circumstances alleged by the former impossible, and on pointing this out, he heard no more of the story, which was a good example of the mixing up of observations with conclusions drawn from them. and on the following day he replies to another such detailed story:--] admiral mellersh says, "i saw a huge snake, at least feet long," and i have no doubt he believes he is simply stating a matter of fact. yet his assertion involves a hypothesis of the truth of which i venture to be exceedingly doubtful. how does he know that what he saw was a snake? the neighbourhood of a creature of this kind, within axe-stroke, is hardly conducive to calm scientific investigation, and i can answer for it that the discrimination of genuine sea-snakes in their native element from long-bodied fish is not always easy. further, that "back fin" troubles me; looks, if i may say so, very fishy. if the caution about mixing up observations with conclusions, which i ventured to give yesterday, were better attended to, i think we should hear very little either about antiquated sea-serpents or new "mesmerism." [it is perhaps not superfluous to point out that in this, as in other cases of the marvellous, he did not merely pooh-pooh a story on the ground of its antecedent improbability, but rested his acceptance or rejection of it upon the strength of the evidence adduced. on the other hand, the weakness of such evidence as was brought forward time after time, was a justification for refusing to spend his time in listening to similar stories based on similar testimony. among the many journalistic absurdities which fall in the way of celebrities, two which happened this year are worth recording; the one on account of its intrinsic extravagance, which succeeded nevertheless in taking in quite a number of sober folk; the other on account of the letter it drew from huxley about his cat. the former appeared in the shape of a highly-spiced advertisement about certain manx mannikins, which could walk, draw, play, in fact do everything but speak--were living pets which might be kept by any one, and indeed professor huxley was the possessor of a remarkably fine pair of them. apply, enclosing stamps etc. of course, the wonderful mannikins were nothing more than the pair of hands which anybody could dress up according to the instructions of the advertiser; but it was astonishing how many estimable persons took them for some lusus naturae. a similar advertisement in had been equally successful, and one exalted personage wrote by the hand of a secretary to say what pleasure and interest had been excited by the description of these strange creatures, and begging professor huxley to state if the account was true. accordingly on january he writes to his wife, who was on a visit to her daughter:--] yesterday two ladies called to know if they could see the manx mannikins. i think of having a board put up to say that in the absence of the proprietress the show is closed. [the other incident was a request for any remarks which might be of use in an article upon the home pets of celebrities. i give the letter written in answer to this, as well as descriptions of the same cat's goings-on in the absence of its mistress.] to mr. j.g. kitton. hodeslea, april , . a long series of cats has reigned over my household for the last forty years, or thereabouts, but i am sorry to say that i have no pictorial or other record of their physical and moral excellences. the present occupant of the throne is a large, young, grey tabby--oliver by name. not that he is in any sense a protector, for i doubt whether he has the heart to kill a mouse. however, i saw him catch and eat the first butterfly of the season, and trust that this germ of courage, thus manifested, may develop with age into efficient mousing. as to sagacity, i should say that his judgment respecting the warmest place and the softest cushion in a room is infallible--his punctuality at meal times is admirable; and his pertinacity in jumping on people's shoulders, till they give him some of the best of what is going, indicates great firmness. [to his youngest daughter:--] hodeslea eastbourne, january , . i wish you would write seriously to m--. she is not behaving well to oliver. i have seen handsomer kittens, but few more lively, and energetically destructive. just now he scratched away at something that m-- says cost shillings pence a yard--and reduced more or less of it to combings. m-- therefore excludes him from the dining-room, and all those opportunities of higher education which he would naturally have in my house. i have argued that it is as immoral to place shillings pence a yard-nesses within reach of kittens as to hang bracelets and diamond rings in the front garden. but in vain. oliver is banished--and the protector (not oliver) is sat upon. in truth and justice aid your pa. [this letter is embellished with fancy portraits of:--] oliver when most quiescent (tail up; ready for action). o. as polisher (tearing at the table leg). o. as plate basket investigator. o. as gardener (destroying plants in a pot). o. as stocking knitter (a wild tangle of cat and wool). o. as political economist making good for trade at shillings pence a yard (pulling at a hassock). [the following to sir john evans refers to a piece of temporary forgetfulness.] hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . my dear evans, it is curious what a difference there is between intentions and acts, especially in the matter of sending cheques. the moment i saw the project of the lawes and gilbert testimonial in the "times", i sent my contribution in imagination--and it is only the arrival of this circular which has waked me up to the necessity of supplementing my ideal cheque by the real one inclosed. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [reference has been made to the writing of the romanes lecture in . mr. gladstone had already consented to deliver the first lecture in that year; and early in the summer professor romanes sounded huxley to find out whether he would undertake the second lecture for . huxley suggested a possible bar in his precarious health; but subject to this possibility, if the vice-chancellor did not regard it as a complete disability, was willing to accept a formal invitation. professor romanes reassured him upon this point, and further begged him, if possible, to be ready to step into the breach if mr. gladstone should be prevented from lecturing in the following autumn. the situation became irresistible, and the second of the following letters to mr. romanes displays no more hesitation.] to professor romanes. hodeslea, june , . i should have written to you yesterday, but the book did not arrive till this morning. very many thanks for it. it looks appetising, and i look forward to the next course. as to the oxford lecture, "verily, thou almost persuadest me," though i thought i had finished lecturing. i really should like to do it; but i have a scruple about accepting an engagement of this important kind, which i might not be able to fulfil. i am astonishingly restored, and have not had a trace of heart trouble for months. but i am quite aware that i am, physically speaking, on good behaviour--and maintain my condition only by taking an amount of care which is very distasteful to me. furthermore, my wife's health is, i am sorry to say, extremely precarious. she was very ill a fortnight ago, and to my very great regret, as well as hers, we are obliged to give up our intended visit to balliol to-morrow. she is quite unfit to travel, and i cannot leave her here alone for three days. i think the state of affairs ought to be clear to the vice-chancellor. if, in his judgment, it constitutes no hindrance, and he does me the honour to send the invitation, i shall accept it. to the same:--] hodeslea, june , . i am afraid that age hath not altogether cleared the spirit of mischief out of my blood; and there is something so piquant in the notion of my acting as substitute for gladstone that i will be ready if necessity arises. of course i will keep absolutely clear of theology. but i have long had fermenting in my head, some notions about the relations of ethics and evolution (or rather the absence of such as are commonly supposed), which i think will be interesting to such an audience as i may expect. "without prejudice," as the lawyers say, that is the sort of topic that occurs to me. [to the same:--] hodeslea, october , . i had to go to london in the middle of last week about the gresham university business, and i trust i have put a very long nail into the coffin of that scheme. for which good service you will forgive my delay in replying to your letter. i read all about your show--why not call it "george's gorgeous," tout court? i should think that there is no living man, who, on such an occasion, could intend and contrive to say so much and so well (in form) without ever rising above the level of antiquarian gossip. my lecture would have been ready if the g.o.m. had failed you, but i am very glad to have six months' respite, as i now shall be able to write and rewrite it to my heart's content. i will follow the gladstonian precedent touching cap and gown--but i trust the vice-chancellor will not ask me to take part in a "church parade" and read the lessons. i couldn't--really. as to the financial part of the business, to tell you the honest truth, i would much rather not be paid at all for a piece of work of this kind. i am no more averse to turning an honest penny by my brains than any one else in the ordinary course of things--quite the contrary; but this is not an ordinary occasion. however, this is a pure matter of taste, and i do not want to set a precedent which might be inconvenient to other people--so i agree to what you propose. by the way, is there any type-writer who is to be trusted in oxford? some time ago i sent a manuscript to a london type-writer, and to my great disgust i shortly afterwards saw an announcement that i was engaged on the topic. [on the following day he writes to his wife, who was staying with her youngest daughter in town:--] the vice-chancellor has written to me and i have fixed may--exact day by and by. mrs. romanes has written a crispy little letter to remind us of our promise to go there, and i have chirrupped back. [the "chirrup" ran as follows:--] hodeslea, november , . my dear mrs. romanes, i have just written to the vice-chancellor to say that i hope to be at his disposition any time next may. my wife is "larking"--i am sorry to use such a word, but what she is pleased to tell me of her doings leaves me no alternative--in london, whither i go on thursday to fetch her back--in chains, if necessary. but i know, in the matter of being "taken in and done for" by your hospitable selves, i may, for once, speak for her as well as myself. don't ask anybody above the rank of a younger son of a peer--because i shall not be able to go in to dinner before him or her--and that part of my dignity is naturally what i prize most. would you not like me to come in my p.c. suit? all ablaze with gold, and costing a sum with which i could buy, oh! so many books! only if your late experiences should prompt you to instruct your other guests not to contradict me--don't. i rather like it. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. bon voyage! you can tell mr. jones [the hotel-keeper in madeira.] that i will have him brought before the privy council and fined, as in the good old days, if he does not treat you properly. [this letter was afterwards published in mrs. romanes' life of her husband, and three letters on that occasion, and particularly that in which huxley tried to guard her from any malicious interpretation of his jests, are to be found on page . on the afternoon of may , , he delivered at oxford his romanes lecture, on "evolution and ethics," a study of the relation of ethical and evolutionary theory in the history of philosophy, the text of which is that while morality is necessarily a part of the order of nature, still the ethical principle is opposed to the self-regarding principle on which cosmic evolution has taken place. society is a part of nature, but would be dissolved by a return to the natural state of simple warfare among individuals. it follows that ethical systems based on the principles of cosmic evolution are not logically sound. a study of the essays of the foregoing ten years will show that he had more than once enunciated this thesis, and it had been one of the grounds of his long-standing criticism of mr. spencer's system. the essence of this criticism is given in portions of two letters to mr. f.j. gould, who, when preparing a pamphlet on "agnosticism writ plain" in , wrote to inquire what was the dividing line between the two agnostic positions.] as between mr. spencer and myself, the question is not one of "a dividing line," but of entire and complete divergence as soon as we leave the foundations laid by hume, kant, and hamilton, who are my philosophical forefathers. to my mind the "absolute" philosophies were finally knocked on the head by hamilton; and the "unknowable" in mr. spencer's sense is merely the absolute redivivus, a sort of ghost of an extinct philosophy, the name of a negation hocus-pocussed into a sham thing. if i am to talk about that of which i have no knowledge at all, i prefer the good old word "god", about which there is no scientific pretence. to my mind agnosticism is simply the critical attitude of the thinking faculty, and the definition of it should contain no dogmatic implications of any kind. i, for my part, do not know whether the problem of existence is insoluble or not; or whether the ultimate cause (if there be such a thing) is unknown or not. that of which i am certain is, that no satisfactory solution of this problem has been offered, and that, from the nature of the intellectual faculty, i am unable to conceive that such a solution will ever be found. but on that, as on all other questions, my mind is open to consider any new evidence that may be offered. [and later:--] i have long been aware of the manner in which my views have been confounded with those of mr. spencer, though no one was more fully aware of our divergence than the latter. perhaps i have done wrongly in letting the thing slide so long, but i was anxious to avoid a breach with an old friend... whether the unknowable or any other noumenon exists or does not exist, i am quite clear i have no knowledge either way. so with respect to whether there is anything behind force or not, i am ignorant; i neither affirm nor deny. the tendency to idolatry in the human mind is so strong that faute de mieux it falls down and worships negative abstractions, as much the creation of the mind as the stone idol of the hands. the one object of the agnostic (in the true sense) is to knock this tendency on the head whenever or wherever it shows itself. our physical science is full of it. [nevertheless, the doctrine seemed to take almost everybody by surprise. the drift of the lecture was equally misunderstood by critics of opposite camps. huxley was popularly supposed to hold the same views as mr. spencer--for were they not both evolutionists? on general attention being called to the existing difference between their views, some jumped to the conclusion that huxley was offering a general recantation of evolution, others that he had discarded his former theories of ethics. on the one hand he was branded as a deserter from free thought; on the other, hailed almost as a convert to orthodoxy. it was irritating, but little more than he had expected. the conditions of the lecture forbade any reference to politics or religion; hence much had to be left unsaid, which was supplied next year in the prolegomena prefacing the re-issue of the lecture. after all possible trimming and compression, he still feared the lecture would be too long, and would take more than an hour to deliver, especially if the audience was likely to be large, for the numbers must be considered in reference to the speed of speaking. but he had taken even more pains than usual with it.] "the lecture," [he writes to professor romanes on april ], "has been in type for weeks, if not months, as i have been taking an immensity of trouble over it. and i can judge of nothing till it is in type." [but this very precaution led to unexpected complications. when the proposition to lecture was first made to him, he was not sent a copy of the statute ordering that publication in the first instance should lie with the university press; and in view of the proviso that "the lecturer is free to publish on his own behalf in any other form he may like," he had taken professor romanes' original reference to publication by the press to be a subsidiary request to which he gladly assented. however, a satisfactory arrangement was speedily arrived at with the publishers; huxley remarking:--] all i have to say is, do not let the university be in any way a loser by the change. if the v.-c. thinks there is any risk of this, i will gladly add to what macmillan pays. that matter can be settled between us. [however, he had not forgotten the limitation of his subject in respect of religion and politics, and he repeatedly refers to his careful avoidance of these topics as an "egg-dance." and wishing to reassure mr. romanes on this head, he writes on april :--] there is no allusion to politics in my lecture, nor to any religion except buddhism, and only to the speculative and ethical side of that. if people apply anything i say about these matters to modern philosophies, except evolutionary speculation, and religions, that is not my affair. to be honest, however, unless i thought they would, i should never have taken all the pains i have bestowed on these pages. [but these words conjured up terrible possibilities, and mr. romanes wrote back in great alarm to ask the exact state of the case. the two following letters show that the alarm was groundless:--] hodeslea, april , . my dear romanes, i fear, or rather hope, that i have given you a very unnecessary scare. you may be quite sure, i think, that, while i should have refused to give the lecture if any pledge of a special character had been proposed to me, i have felt very strongly bound to you to take the utmost care that no shadow of a just cause for offence should be given, even to the most orthodox of dons. it seems to me that the best thing i can do is to send you the lecture as it stands, notes and all. but please return it within two days at furthest, and consider it strictly confidential between us two (i am not excluding mrs. romanes, if she cares to look at the paper). no consideration would induce me to give any ground for the notion that i had submitted the lecture to any one but yourself. if there is any phrase in the lecture which you think likely to get you into trouble, out it shall come or be modified in form. if the whole thing is too much for the dons' nerves--i am no judge of their delicacy--i am quite ready to give up the lecture. in fact i do not know whether i shall be able to make myself heard three weeks hence, as the influenza has left its mark in hoarseness and pain in the throat after speaking. so you see if the thing is altogether too wicked there is an easy way out of it. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, april , . my dear romanes, my mind is made easy by such a handsome acquittal from you and the lady abbess, your coadjutor in the holy office. my wife, who is my inquisitor and confessor in ordinary, has gone over the lecture twice, without scenting a heresy, and if she and mrs. romanes fail--a fico for a mere male don's nose! from the point of view of the complete argument, i agree with you about note . but the dangers of open collision with orthodoxy on the one hand and spencer on the other, increased with the square of the enlargement of the final pages, and i was most anxious for giving no handle to any one who might like to say i had used the lecture for purposes of attack. moreover, in spite of all reduction, the lecture is too long already. but i think it not improbable that in spite of my meekness and peacefulness, neither the one side nor the other will let me alone. and then you see, i shall have an opportunity of making things plain, under no restriction. you will not be responsible for anything said in the second edition, nor can the donniest of dons grumble. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. the double negative is shakspearian. see hamlet, act scene . [unfortunately for the entire success of the lecture, he was suffering from the results of influenza, more especially a loss of voice. he writes (april ):--] after getting through the winter successfully i have had the ill-fortune to be seized with influenza. i believe i must have got it from the microbes haunting some of the three hundred doctors at the virchow dinner. [on the th march.] i had next to no symptoms except debility, and though i am much better i cannot quite shake that off. as usual with me it affects my voice. i hope this will get right before this day month, but i expect i shall have to nurse it. i do not want to interfere with any of your hospitable plans, and i think if you will ensure me quiet on the morning of the th (i understand the lecture is in the afternoon) it will suffice. after the thing is over i am ready for anything from pitch and toss onwards. [two more letters dated before the th of may touch on the circumstances of the lecture. one is to his son-in-law, john collier; the other to his old friend tyndall, the last he ever wrote him, and containing a cheery reference to the advance of old age.] hodeslea, eastbourne, may , . my dear jack, ...m-- is better, and i am getting my voice back. but may st. ernulphus' curse descend on influenza microbes! they tried to work their way out at my nose, and converted me into a disreputable captain costigan-looking person ten days ago. now they are working at my lips. for the credit of the family i hope i shall be more reputable by the th. i hope you will appreciate my dexterity. the lecture is a regular egg-dance. that i should discourse on ethics to the university of oxford and say all i want to say, without a word anybody can quarrel with, is decidedly the most piquant occurrence in my career... ever yours affectionately, pater. to professor tyndall. p.s. to be read first. eastbourne, may , . my dear tyndall, there are not many apples (and those mostly of the crab sort) left upon the old tree, but i send you the product of the last shaking. please keep it out of any hands but your wife's and yours till thursday, when i am to "stand and deliver" it, if i have voice enough, which is doubtful. the sequelae of influenza in my case have been mostly pimples and procrastination, the former largely on my nose, so that i have been a spectacle. besides these, loss of voice. the pimples are mostly gone and the procrastination is not much above normal, but what will happen when i try to fill the sheldonian theatre is very doubtful. who would have thought thirty-three years ago, when the great "sammy" fight came off, that the next time i should speak at oxford would be in succession to gladstone, on "evolution and ethics" as an invited lecturer? there was something so quaint about the affair that i really could not resist, though the wisdom of putting so much strain on my creaky timbers is very questionable. mind you wish me well through it at . on thursday. i wish we could have better news of you. as to dying by inches, that is what we are all doing, my dear old fellow; the only thing is to establish a proper ratio between inch and time. eight years ago i had good reason to say the same thing of myself, but my inch has lengthened out in a most extraordinary way. still i confess we are getting older; and my dear wife has been greatly shaken by repeated attacks of violent pain which seizes her quite unexpectedly. i am always glad, both on her account and my own, to get back into the quiet and good air here as fast as possible, and in another year or two, if i live so long, i shall clear out of all engagements that take me away... t.h. huxley. not to be answered, and you had better get mrs. tyndall to read it to you or you will say naughty words about the scrawl. [sanguine as he had resolved to be about the recovery of his voice, his fear lest " out of the won't hear" was very near realisation. the sheldonian theatre was thronged before he appeared on the platform, a striking presence in his d.c.l. robes, and looking very leonine with his silvery gray hair sweeping back in one long wave from his forehead, and the rugged squareness of his features tempered by the benignity of an old age which has seen much and overcome much. he read the lecture from a printed copy, not venturing, as he would have liked, upon the severe task of speaking it from memory, considering its length and the importance of preserving the exact wording. he began in a somewhat low tone, nursing his voice for the second half of the discourse. from the more distant parts of the theatre came several cries of "speak up"; and after a time a rather disturbing migration of eager undergraduates began from the galleries to the body of the hall. the latter part was indeed more audible than the first; still a number of the audience were disappointed in hearing imperfectly. however, the lecture had a large sale; the first edition of was exhausted by the end of the month; and another in the next ten days. after leaving oxford, and paying a pleasant visit to one of the fannings (his wife's nephew) at tew, huxley intended to visit another of the family, mrs. crowder, in lincolnshire, but on reaching london found himself dead beat, and had to retire to eastbourne, whence he writes to sir m. foster and to mr. romanes.] hodeslea, may , . my dear foster, your letter has been following me about. i had not got rid of my influenza at oxford, so the exertion and the dinner parties together played the deuce with me. we had got so far as the great northern hotel on our way to some connections in lincolnshire, when i had to give it up and retreat here to begin convalescing again. i do not feel sure of coming to the harvey affair after all. but if i do, it will be alone, and i think i had better accept the hospitality of the college; which will by no means be so jolly as shelford, but probably more prudent, considering the necessity of dining out. the fact is, my dear friend, i am getting old. i am very sorry to hear you have been doing your influenza also. it's a beastly thing, as i have it, no symptoms except going flop. ever yours, t.h. huxley. nobody sees that the lecture is a very orthodox production on the text (if there is such a one), "satan the prince of this world." i think the remnant of influenza microbes must have held a meeting in my corpus after the lecture, and resolved to reconquer the territory. but i mean to beat the brutes. "i shall be interested," [he writes to mr. romanes,] "in the article on the lecture. the papers have been asinine." this was an article which mr. romanes had told him was about to appear in the "oxford magazine". and on the th he writes again.] many thanks for the "oxford magazine". the writer of the article is about the only critic i have met with yet who understands my drift. my wife says it is a "sensible" article, but her classification is a very simple one--sensible articles are those that contain praise, "stupid" those that show insensibility to my merits! really i thought it very sensible, without regard to the plums in the pudding. [but the criticism, "sensible" not merely in the humorous sense, which he most fully appreciated was that of professor seth, in a lecture entitled "man and nature." he wrote to him on october :--] dear professor seth, a report of your lecture on "man and nature" has just reached me. accept my cordial thanks for defending me, and still more for understanding me. i really have been unable to understand what my critics have been dreaming of when they raise the objection that the ethical process being part of the cosmic process cannot be opposed to it. they might as well say that artifice does not oppose nature, because it is part of nature in the broadest sense. however, it is one of the conditions of the "romanes lecture" that no allusion shall be made to religion or politics. i had to make my omelette without breaking any of those eggs, and the task was not easy. the prince of scientific expositors, faraday, was once asked, "how much may a popular lecturer suppose his audience knows?" he replied emphatically, "nothing." mine was not exactly a popular audience, but i ought not to have forgotten faraday's rule. yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [a letter of congratulation to lord farrer on his elevation to the peerage contains an ironical reference to the general tone of the criticisms on his lecture:--] hodeslea, june , . ci devant citoyen petion (autrefois le vertueux), you have lost all chance of leading the forces of the county council to the attack of the horse-guards. you will become an emigre, and john burns will have to content himself with the heads of the likes of me. as the jacobins said of lavoisier, the republic has no need of men of science. but this prospect need not interfere with sending our hearty congratulations to lady farrer and yourself. as for your criticisms, don't you know that i am become a reactionary and secret friend of the clerics? my lecture is really an effort to put the christian doctrine that satan is the prince of this world upon a scientific foundation. just consider it in this light, and you will understand why i was so warmly welcomed in oxford. (n.b.--the only time i spoke before was in , when the great row with samuel came off!!) ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, july , . my dear skelton, i fear i must admit that even a gladstonian paper occasionally tells the truth. they never mean to, but we all have our lapses from the rule of life we have laid down for ourselves, and must be charitable. the fact is, i got influenza in the spring, and have never managed to shake right again, any tendency that way being well counteracted by the romanes lecture and its accompaniments. so we are off to the maloja to-morrow. it mended up the shaky old heart-pump five years ago, and i hope will again. i have been in orkney, and believe in the air, but i cannot say quite so much for the scenery. i thought it just a wee little bit, shall i say, bare? but then i have a passion for mountains. i shall be right glad to know what your h.o.m. [the "old man of hoy," a pseudonym under which sir j. skelton wrote.] has to say about ethics and evolution. you must remember that my lecture was a kind of egg-dance. good manners bound me over to say nothing offensive to the christians in the amphitheatre (i was in the arena), and truthfulness, on the other hand, bound me to say nothing that i did not fully mean. under these circumstances one has to leave a great many i's undotted and t's uncrossed. pray remember me very kindly to mrs. skelton, and believe me, yours ever, t.h. huxley. [and again on october :--] ask your old man of hoy to be so good as to suspend judgment until the lecture appears again with an appendix in that collection of volumes the bulk of which appals me. didn't i see somewhere that you had been made poor law pope, or something of the sort? i congratulate the poor more than i do you, for it must be a weary business trying to mend the irremediable. (no, i am not glancing at the whitewashing of mary.) [here may be added two later letters bearing in part upon the same subject:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . dear sir, i ought to have thanked you before now for your letter about nietzsche's works, but i have not much working time, and i find letter-writing a burden, which i am always trying to shirk. i will look up nietzsche, though i must confess that the profit i obtain from german authors on speculative questions is not usually great. as men of research in positive science they are magnificently laborious and accurate. but most of them have no notion of style, and seem to compose their books with a pitchfork. there are two very different questions which people fail to discriminate. one is whether evolution accounts for morality, the other whether the principle of evolution in general can be adopted as an ethical principle. the first, of course, i advocate, and have constantly insisted upon. the second i deny, and reject all so-called evolutional ethics based upon it. i am yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. thomas common, esq. hodeslea, august , . dear professor seth, i have come to a stop in the issue of my essays for the present, and i venture to ask your acceptance of the set which i have desired my publishers to send you. i hope that at present you are away somewhere, reading novels or otherwise idling, in whatever may be your pet fashion. but some day i want you to read the "prolegomena" to the reprinted romanes lecture. lately i have been re-reading spinoza (much read and little understood in my youth). but that noblest of jews must have planted no end of germs in my brains, for i see that what i have to say is in principle what he had to say, in modern language. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following letters with reference to the long unfinished memoir on "spirula" for the "challenger" reports tell their own story. huxley was very glad to find some competent person to finish the work which his illness had incapacitated him from completing himself. it had been a burden on his conscience; and now he gladly put all his plates and experience at the disposal of professor pelseneer, though he had nothing written and would not write anything. he had no wish to claim even joint authorship for the completed paper; when the question was first raised, he desired merely that it should be stated that such and such drawings were made by him; but when professor pelseneer insisted that both names should appear as joint authors, he consented to this solution of the question.] hodeslea, september , . dear mr. murray [now k.c.b. director of the "reports of the 'challenger'."], if the plates of spirula could be turned to account a great burthen would be taken off my mind. professor pelseneer is every way competent to do justice to the subject; and he has just what i needed, namely another specimen to check and complete the work; and besides that, the physical capacity for dissection and close observation, of which i have had nothing left since my long illness. will you be so good as to tell professor pelseneer that i shall be glad to place the plates at his disposal and to give him all the explanations i can of the drawings, whenever it may suit his convenience to take up the work? nothing beyond mere fragments remained of the specimen. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. i return pelseneer's letter. hodeslea, september , . dear professor pelseneer, i send herewith (by this post) a full explanation of the plates of spirula (including those of which you have unlettered copies). i trust you will not be too much embarrassed by my bad handwriting, which is a plague to myself as well as to other people. my hope is that you will be good enough to consider these figures as materials placed in your hands, to be made useful in the memoir on spirula, which i trust you will draw up, supplying the defects of my work and checking its accuracy. you will observe that a great deal remains to be done. the muscular system is untouched; the structure and nature of the terminal circumvallate papilla have to be made out; the lingual teeth must be re-examined; and the characters of the male determined. if i recollect rightly, owen published something about the last point. if i can be of any service to you in any questions that arise, i shall be very glad; but as i am putting the trouble of the work on your shoulders, i wish you to have the credit of it. so far as i am concerned, all that is needful is to say that such and such drawings were made by me. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, october , . dear professor pelseneer, i am very glad to hear from you that the homology of the cephalopod arms with the gasteropod foot is now generally admitted. when i advocated that opinion in my memoir on the "morphology of the cephalous mollusca," some forty years ago, it was thought a great heresy. as to publication; i am quite willing to agree to whatever arrangement you think desirable, so long as you are kind enough to take all trouble (but that of "consulting physician") off my shoulders. perhaps putting both names to the memoir, as you suggest, will be the best way. i cannot undertake to write anything, but if you think i can be of any use as an adviser or critic, do not hesitate to demand my services. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [although in february he had stayed several days in town with the donnellys, who "take as much care of me as if i were a piece of old china," and had attended a levee and a meeting of his london university association, had listened with interest to a lecture of professor dewar, who "made liquid oxygen by the pint," and dined at marlborough house, the influenza had prevented him during the spring from fulfilling several engagements in london; but after his return from oxford he began to recruit in the fine weather, and found delightful occupation in putting up a rockery in the garden for his pet alpine plants. in mid june he writes to his wife, then on a visit to one of her daughters:--] what a little goose you are to go having bad dreams about me--who am like a stalled ox--browsing in idle comfort--in fact, idle is no word for it. sloth is the right epithet. i can't get myself to do anything but potter in the garden, which is looking lovely. on june he went to cambridge for the harvey celebration at gonville and caius college, and made a short speech.] the dinner last night [he writes] was a long affair, and i was the last speaker; but i got through my speech very well, and was heard by everybody, i am told. [but as is the way with influenza, it was thrown off in the summer only to return the next winter, and on the eve of the royal society anniversary dinner he writes to sir m. foster:--] i am in rather a shaky and voiceless condition, and unless i am more up to the mark to-morrow morning i shall have to forgo the dinner, and, what is worse, the chat with you afterwards. [one consequence of the spring attack of influenza was that this year he went once more to the maloja, staying there from july to august .] hodeslea, eastbourne, july , . my dear hooker, what has happened to the x meeting you proposed? however, it does not matter much to me now, as hames, who gave me a thorough overhauling in london, has packed me off to the maloja again, and we start, if we can, on the th. it is a great nuisance, but the dregs of influenza and the hot weather between them have brought the weakness of my heart to the front, and i am gravitating to the condition in which i was five or six years ago. so i must try the remedy which was so effectual last time. we are neither of us very fit, and shall have to be taken charge of by a courier. fancy coming to that! let me be a warning to you, my dear old man. don't go giving lectures at oxford and making speeches at cambridge, and above all things don't, oh don't go getting influenza, the microbes of which would be seen under a strong enough microscope to have this form. [sketch of an active little black demon.] t.h. huxley. [though not so strikingly as before, the high alpine air was again a wonderful tonic to him. his diary still contains a note of occasional long walks; and once more he was the centre of a circle of friends, whose cordial recollections of their pleasant intercourse afterwards found expression in a lasting memorial. beside one of his favourite walks, a narrow pathway skirting the blue lakelet of sils, was placed a gray block of granite. the face of this was roughly smoothed, and upon it was cut the following inscription:-- in memory of the illustrious english writer and naturalist, thomas henry huxley, who spent many summers at the kursaal, maloja. in a letter to sir j. hooker, of october , he describes the effects of his trip, and his own surprise at being asked to write a critical account of owen's work:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, october , . my dear hooker, i am no better than a gadarene swine for not writing to you from the maloja, but i was too procrastinatingly lazy to expend even that amount of energy. i found i could walk as well as ever, but unless i was walking i was everlastingly seedy, and the wife was unwell almost all the time. i am inclined to think that it is coming home which is the most beneficial part of going abroad, for i am remarkably well now, and my wife is very much better. i trust the impaled and injudicious richard [sir j. hooker's youngest son, who had managed to spike himself on a fence.] is none the worse. it is wonderful what boys go through (also what goes through them). you will get all the volumes of my screeds. i was horrified to find what a lot of stuff there was--but don't acknowledge them unless the spirit moves you...i think that on natural inequality of man will be to your taste. three, or thirty, guesses and you shall not guess what i am about to tell you. reverend richard owen has written to me to ask me to write a concluding chapter for the biography of his grandfather--containing a "critical" estimate of him and his work!!! says he is moved thereto by my speech at the meeting for a memorial. there seemed nothing for me to do but to accept as far as the scientific work goes. i declined any personal estimate on the ground that we had met in private society half a dozen times. if you don't mind being bothered i should like to send you what i write and have your opinion about it. you see jowett is going or gone. i am very sorry we were obliged to give up our annual visit to him this year. but i was quite unable to stand the exertion, even if hames had not packed me off. how one's old friends are dropping! romanes gave me a pitiable account of himself in a letter the other day. he has had an attack of hemiplegic paralysis, and tells me he is a mere wreck. that means that the worst anticipations of his case are being verified. it is lamentable. take care of yourself, my dear old friend, and with our love to you both, believe me, ever yours, t.h. huxley. [not long after his return he received a letter from a certain g-- s--, who wrote from southampton detailing a number of observations he had made upon the organisms to be seen with a magnifying glass in an infusion of vegetable matter, and as "an ignoramus," apologised for any appearance of conceit in so doing, while asking his advice as to the best means of improving his scientific knowledge. huxley was much struck by the tone of the letter and the description of the experiments, and he wrote back:--] hodeslea, november , . sir, we are all "ignoramuses" more or less--and cannot reproach one another. if there were any sign of conceit in your letter, you would not get this reply. on the contrary, it pleases me. your observations are quite accurate and clearly described--and to be accurate in observation and clear in description is the first step towards good scientific work. you are seeing just what the first workers with the microscope saw a couple of centuries ago. get some such book as carpenter's "on the microscope" and you will see what it all means. are there no science classes in southampton? there used to be, and i suppose is, a hartley institute. if you want to consult books you cannot otherwise obtain, take this to the librarian, give him my compliments, and say i should be very much obliged if he would help you. i am, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [great was huxley's astonishment when he learned in reply that his correspondent was a casual dock labourer, and had but scanty hours of leisure in which to read and think and seek into the recesses of nature, while his means of observation consisted of a toy microscope bought for a shilling at a fair. casting about for some means of lending the man a helping hand, he bethought him of the science and art department, and wrote on december to sir j. donnelly:--] the department has feelers all over england--has it any at southampton? and if it has, could it find out something about the writer of the letters i enclose? for a "casual docker" they are remarkable; and i think when you have read them you will not mind my bothering you with them. (i really have had the grace to hesitate.) i have been puzzled what to do for the man. it is so much easier to do harm than good by meddling--and yet i don't like to leave him to "casual docking." in that first letter he has got--on his own hook--about as far as buffon and needham years ago. and later to professor howes:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear howes, best thanks for unearthing the volumes of milne-edwards. i was afraid my set was spoiled. i shall be still more obliged to you if you can hear of something for s--. there is a right good parson in his neighbourhood, and from what he tells me about s-- i am confirmed in my opinion that he is a very exceptional man, who ought to be at something better than porter's work for twelve hours a day. the mischief is that one never knows how transplanting a tree, much less a man, will answer. playing providence is a game at which one is very apt to burn one's fingers. however, i am going to try, and hope at any rate to do no harm to the man i want to help. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [he was eventually offered more congenial occupation at the natural history museum in south kensington, but preferred not to enter into the bonds of an unaccustomed office. meanwhile, through sir john donnelly, huxley was placed in communication with the reverend montague powell, who, at his request, called upon the docker; and finding him a man who had read and thought to an astonishing extent upon scientific problems, and had a considerable acquaintance with english literature, soon took more than a vicarious interest in him. mr. powell, who kept huxley informed of his talks and correspondence with g.s., gives a full account of the circumstances in a letter to the "spectator" of july , , from which i quote the following words:-- the professor's object in writing was to ask me how best such a man could be helped, i being at his special request the intermediary. so i suggested in the meanwhile a microscope and a few scientific books. in the course of a few days i received a splendid achromatic compound microscope and some books, which i duly handed over to my friend, telling him it was from an unknown hand. "ah," he said, "i know who that must be; it can be no other than the greatest of living scientists; it is just like him to help a tyro." one small incident of this affair is perhaps worth preserving as an example of huxley's love of a bantering repartee. in the midst of the correspondence mr. powell seems suddenly to have been seized by an uneasy recollection that huxley had lately received some honour or title, so he next addressed him as "my dear sir thomas." the latter, not to be outdone, promptly replied with] "my dear lord bishop of the solent." [about the same time comes a letter to mr. knowles, based upon a paragraph from the gossiping column of some newspaper which had come into huxley's hands:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . gossip of the town. "professor huxley receives guineas for each of his articles for the 'nineteenth century'." my dear knowles, i have always been satisfied with the "nineteenth century" in the capacity of paymaster, but i did not know how much reason i had for my satisfaction till i read the above! totting up the number of articles and multiplying by it strikes me i shall be behaving very handsomely if i take pounds for the balance due. so sit down quickly, take thy cheque-book, and write five score, and let me have it at breakfast time to-morrow. i once got a cheque for pounds at breakfast, and it ruined me morally. i have always been looking out for another. i hope you are all flourishing. we are the better for maloja, but more dependent on change of weather and other trifles than could be wished. yet i find myself outlasting those who started in life along with me. poor andrew clark and i were at haslar together in , and he was the younger by a year and a half. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. all my time is spent in the co-ordination of my eruptions when i am an active volcano. i hope you got the volumes which i told macmillan to send you. [the following letter to professor romanes, whose failing eyesight was a premonitory symptom of the disease which proved fatal the next year, reads, so to say, as a solemn prelude to the death of three old friends this autumn--of andrew clark, his old comrade at haslar, and cheery physician for many years; of benjamin jowett, master of balliol, whose acquaintance he had first made in at the stanleys' at harrow, and with whom he kept up an intimacy to the end of his life, visiting balliol once or twice every year; and, heaviest blow, of john tyndall, the friend and comrade whose genial warmth of spirit made him almost claim a brother's place in early struggles and later success, and whose sudden death was all the more poignant for the cruel touch of tragedy in the manner of it.] hodeslea, september , . my dear romanes, we are very much grieved to hear such a bad account of your health. would that we could achieve something more to the purpose than assuring you and mrs. romanes of our hearty sympathy with you both in your troubles. i assure you, you are much in our thoughts, which are sad enough with the news of jowett's, i fear, fatal attack. i am almost ashamed to be well and tolerably active when young and old friends are being thus prostrated. however, you have youth on your side, so do not give up, and wearisome as doing nothing may be, persist in it as the best of medicines. at my time of life one should be always ready to stand at attention when the order to march comes; but for the rest i think it well to go on doing what i can, as if f. m. general death had forgotten me. that must account for my seeming presumption in thinking i may some day "take up the threads" of late evolutionary speculation. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. my wife joins with me in love and kind wishes to you both. [at the request of his friends, huxley wrote for the "nineteenth century" a brief appreciation of his old comrade tyndall--the tribute of a friend to a friend--and, difficult task though it was, touched on the closing scene, if only from a chivalrous desire to do justice to the long devotion which accident had so cruelly wronged:--] i am comforted [he writes to sir j. hooker on january ] by your liking the tyndall article. you are quite right, i shivered over the episode of the "last words," but it struck me as the best way of getting justice done to her, so i took a header. i am glad to see by the newspaper comments that it does not seem to have shocked other people's sense of decency. [the funeral took place on saturday, december . there was no storm nor fog to make the graveside perilous for the survivors. in the haslemere churchyard the winter sun shone its brightest, and the moorland air was crisp with an almost alpine freshness as this lover of the mountains was carried to his last resting-place. but though he took no outward harm from that bright still morning, huxley was greatly shaken by the event]: "i was very much used up," [he writes to sir m. foster on his return home two days later], "to my shame be it said, far more than my wife"; [and on december to sir john donnelly:--] your kind letter deserved better than to have been left all this time without response, but the fact is, i came to grief the day after christmas day (no, we did not indulge in too much champagne). lost my voice, and collapsed generally, without any particular reason, so i went to bed and stayed there as long as i could stand it, and now i am picking up again. the fact is, i suppose i had been running up a little account over poor old tyndall. one does not stand that sort of wear and tear so well as one gets ancient. [on the same day he writes to sir j.d. hooker:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, december , . my dear hooker, you gave the geographers some uncommonly sane advice. i observe that the words about the "stupendous ice-clad mountains" you saw were hardly out of your mouth when -- coolly asserts that the antarctic continent is a table-land! "comparatively level country." it really is wrong that men should be allowed to go about loose who fill you with such a strong desire to kick them as that little man does. i send herewith a spare copy of "nineteenth" with my paper about tyndall. it is not exactly what i could wish, as i was hurried over it, and knocked up into the bargain, but i have tried to give a fair view of him. tell me what you think of it. i have been having a day or two on the sick list. nothing discernible the matter, only flopped, as i did in the spring. however, i am picking up again. the fact is, i have never any blood pressure to spare, and a small thing humbugs the pump. however, i have some kicks left in me, vide the preface to the fourth volume of essays; ditto number when that appears in february. now, my dear old friend, take care of yourself in the coming year ' . i'll stand by you as long as the fates will let me, and you must be equally "johnnie." with our love to lady hooker and yourself. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. chapter . . . [the completion early in of the ninth volume of "collected essays" was followed by a review of them in "nature" (february ), from the pen of professor ray lankester, emphasising the way in which the writer's personality appears throughout the writing:-- there is probably no lover of apt discourse, of keen criticism, or of scientific doctrine who will not welcome the issue of professor huxley's "essays" in the present convenient shape. for my own part, i know of no writing which by its mere form, even apart from the supreme interest of the matters with which it mostly deals, gives me so much pleasure as that of the author of these essays. in his case, more than that of his contemporaries, it is strictly true that the style is the man. some authors we may admire for the consummate skill with which they transfer to the reader their thought without allowing him, even for a moment, to be conscious of their personality. in professor huxley's work, on the other hand, we never miss his fascinating presence; now he is gravely shaking his head, now compressing the lips with emphasis, and from time to time, with a quiet twinkle of the eye, making unexpected apologies or protesting that he is of a modest and peace-loving nature. at the same time, one becomes accustomed to a rare and delightful phenomenon. everything which has entered the author's brain by eye or ear, whether of recondite philosophy, biological fact, or political programme, comes out again to us--clarified, sifted, arranged, and vivified by its passage through the logical machine of his strong individuality. of the artist in him it continues:-- he deals with form not only as a mechanical engineer in partibus (huxley's own description of himself), but also as an artist, a born lover of forms, a character which others recognise in him though he does not himself set it down in his analysis. the essay on "animal automatism" suggested a reminiscence of professor lankester's as to the way in which it was delivered, and this in turn led to huxley's own account of the incident in the letter given in volume . about the same time there is a letter acknowledging mr. bateson's book "on variation", which is interesting as touching on the latter-day habit of speculation apart from fact which had begun to prevail in biology:--] hodeslea, february , . my dear mr. bateson, i have put off thanking you for the volume "on variation" which you have been so good as to send me in the hope that i should be able to look into it before doing so. but as i find that impossible, beyond a hasty glance, at present, i must content myself with saying how glad i am to see from that glance that we are getting back from the region of speculation into that of fact again. there have been threatenings of late that the field of battle of evolution was being transferred to nephelococcygia. i see you are inclined to advocate the possibility of considerable "saltus" on the part of dame nature in her variations. i always took the same view, much to mr. darwin's disgust, and we used often to debate it. if you should come across my article in the "westminster" ( ) you will find a paragraph on that question near the end. i am writing to macmillan to send you the volume. yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. by the way, have you ever considered this point, that the variations of which breeders avail themselves are exactly those which occur when the previously wild stocks are subjected to exactly the same conditions? [the rest of the first half of the year is not eventful. as illustrating the sort of communications which constantly came to him, i quote from a letter to sir j. donnelly, of january :--] i had a letter from a fellow yesterday morning who must be a lunatic, to the effect that he had been reading my essays, thought i was just the man to spend a month with, and was coming down by the five o'clock train, attended by his seven children and his mother-in-law! frost being over, there was lots of boiling water ready for him, but he did not turn up! wife and servants expected nothing less than assassination. [later he notes with dismay an invitation as a privy councillor to a state evening party:--] it is at . p.m., just the time this poor old septuagenarian goes to bed! my swellness is an awful burden, for as it is i am going to dine with the prime minister on saturday. [the banquet with the prime minister here alluded to was the occasion of a brief note of apology to lord rosebery for having unintentionally kept him waiting:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, may , . dear lord rosebery, i had hoped that my difficulties in dealing with an overtight scabbard stud, as we sat down to dinner on saturday had inconvenienced no one but myself, until it flashed across my mind after i had parted from you that, as you had observed them, it was only too probable that i had the misfortune to keep you waiting. i have been in a state of permanent blush ever since, and i feel sure you will forgive me for troubling you with this apology as the only remedy to which i can look for relief from that unwonted affliction. i am, dear lord rosebery, yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [all through the spring he had been busy completing the chapter on sir richard owen's work, which he had been asked to write by the biographer of his old opponent, and on february tells sir j.d. hooker:--] i am toiling over my chapter about owen, and i believe his ghost in hades is grinning over my difficulties. the thing that strikes me most is, how he and i and all the things we fought about belong to antiquity. it is almost impertinent to trouble the modern world with such antiquarian business. [he sent the manuscript to sir m. foster on june ; the book itself appeared in december. the chapter in question was restricted to a review of the immense amount of work, most valuable on its positive side, done by owen (compare the letter of january , .); and the review in "nature" remarks of it that the criticism is "so straightforward, searching, and honest as to leave nothing further to be desired." besides this piece of work, he had written early in the year a few lines on the general character of the nineteenth century, in reply to a request, addressed to "the most illustrious children of the century," for their opinion as to what name will be given to it by an impartial posterity--the century of comte, of darwin or renan, of edison, pasteur, or gladstone. he replied:--] i conceive that the leading characteristic of the nineteenth century has been the rapid growth of the scientific spirit, the consequent application of scientific methods of investigation to all the problems with which the human mind is occupied, and the correlative rejection of traditional beliefs which have proved their incompetence to bear such investigation. the activity of the scientific spirit has been manifested in every region of speculation and of practice. many of the eminent men you mention have been its effective organs in their several departments. but the selection of any one of these, whatever his merits, as an adequate representative of the power and majesty of the scientific spirit of the age would be a grievous mistake. science reckons many prophets, but there is not even a promise of a messiah. [the unexampled increase in the expenditure of the european states upon their armaments led the arbitration alliance this year to issue a memorial urging the government to co-operate with other governments in reducing naval and military burdens. huxley was asked to sign this memorial, and replied to the secretary as follows:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, june , . dear sir, i have taken some time to consider the memorial to which you have called my attention, and i regret that i do not find myself able to sign it. not that i have the slightest doubt about the magnitude of the evils which accrue from the steady increase of european armaments; but because i think that this regrettable fact is merely the superficial expression of social forces, the operation of which cannot be sensibly affected by agreements between governments. in my opinion it is a delusion to attribute the growth of armaments to the "exactions of militarism." the "exactions of industrialism," generated by international commercial competition, may, i believe, claim a much larger share in prompting that growth. add to this the french thirst for revenge, the most just determination of the german and italian peoples to assert their national unity; the russian panslavonic fanaticism and desire for free access to the western seas; the papacy steadily fishing in the troubled waters for the means of recovering its lost (i hope for ever lost) temporal possessions and spiritual supremacy; the "sick man," kept alive only because each of his doctors is afraid of the other becoming his heir. when i think of the intensity of the perturbing agencies which arise out of these and other conditions of modern european society, i confess that the attempt to counteract them by asking governments to agree to a maximum military expenditure, does not appear to me to be worth making; indeed i think it might do harm by leading people to suppose that the desires of governments are the chief agents in determining whether peace or war shall obtain in europe. i am, yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [later in the year, on august , took place the meeting of the british association at oxford, noteworthy for the presidential address delivered by lord salisbury, chancellor of the university, in which the doctrine of evolution was "enunciated as a matter of course--disputed by no reasonable man,"--although accompanied by a description of the working of natural selection and variation which appeared to the man of science a mere travesty of these doctrines. huxley had been persuaded to attend this meeting, the more willingly, perhaps, since his reception at oxford the year before suggested that there would be a special piquancy in the contrast between this and the last meeting of the association at oxford in . he was not disappointed. details apart, the cardinal situation was reversed. the genius of the place had indeed altered. the representatives of the party, whose prophet had once contemptuously come here to anathematise the "origin", returned at length to the same spot to admit--if not altogether ungrudgingly--the greatness of the work accomplished by darwin. once under promise to go, he could not escape without the "few words" which he now found so tiring; but he took the part which assured him greatest freedom, as seconder of the vote of thanks to the president for his address. the study of an advance copy of the address raised an] "almost overwhelming temptation" [to criticise certain statements contained in it; but this would have been out of place in seconding a vote of thanks; and resisting the temptation, he only] "conveyed criticism," [as he writes to professor lewis campbell], "in the form of praise": [going so far as to suggest] "it might be that, in listening to the deeply interesting address of the president, a thought had occasionally entered his mind how rich and profitable might be the discussion of that paper in section d" (biology). [it was not exactly an offhand speech. writing to sir m. foster for any good report which might appear in an oxford paper, he says:--] i have no notes of it. i wrote something on tuesday night, but this draft is no good, as it was metamorphosed two or three times over on wednesday. [one who was present and aware of the whole situation once described how he marked the eyes of another interested member of the audience, who knew that huxley was to speak, but not what he meant to say, turning anxiously whenever the president reached a critical phrase in the address, to see how he would take it. but the expression of his face told nothing; only those who knew him well could infer a suppressed impatience from a little twitching of his foot. of this occasion professor henry f. osborn, one of his old pupils, writes in his "memorial tribute to thomas h. huxley" ("transactions of the n.y. acad. society" volume ):-- huxley's last public appearance was at the meeting of the british association at oxford. he had been very urgently invited to attend, for, exactly a quarter of a century before, the association had met at oxford, and huxley had had his famous encounter with bishop wilberforce. it was felt that the anniversary would be an historic one, and incomplete without his presence, and so it proved to be. huxley's especial duty was to second the vote of thanks for the marquis of salisbury's address--one of the invariable formalities of the opening meetings of the association. the meeting proved to be the greatest one in the history of the association. the sheldonian theatre was packed with one of the most distinguished scientific audiences ever brought together, and the address of the marquis was worthy of the occasion. the whole tenor of it was the unknown in science. passing from the unsolved problems of astronomy, chemistry, and physics, he came to biology. with delicate irony he spoke of the] "comforting word, evolution," [and passing to the weismannian controversy, implied that the diametrically opposed views so frequently expressed nowadays threw the whole process of evolution into doubt. it was only too evident that the marquis himself found no comfort in evolution, and even entertained a suspicion as to its probability. it was well worth the whole journey to oxford to watch huxley during this portion of the address. in his red doctor-of-laws gown, placed upon his shoulders by the very body of men who had once referred to him as "a mr. huxley" (this phrase was actually used by the "times".), he sank deeper into his chair upon the very front of the platform and restlessly tapped his foot. his situation was an unenviable one. he had to thank an ex-prime minister of england and present chancellor of oxford university for an address, the sentiments of which were directly against those he himself had been maintaining for twenty-five years. he said afterwards that when the proofs of the marquis's address were put into his hands the day before, he realised that he had before him a most delicate and difficult task. lord kelvin (sir william thomson) one of the most distinguished living physicists, first moved the vote of thanks, but his reception was nothing to the tremendous applause which greeted huxley in the heart of that university whose cardinal principles he had so long been opposing. considerable anxiety had been felt by his friends lest his voice should fail to fill the theatre, for it had signally failed during his romanes lecture delivered in oxford the year before, but when huxley arose he reminded you of a venerable gladiator returning to the arena after years of absence. he raised his figure and his voice to its full height, and, with one foot turned over the edge of the step, veiled an unmistakable and vigorous protest in the most gracious and dignified speech of thanks. throughout the subsequent special sessions of this meeting huxley could not appear. he gave the impression of being aged but not infirm, and no one realised that he had spoken his last word as champion of the law of evolution. (see, however, below.) such criticism of the address as he actually expressed reappears in the leading article, "past and present," which he wrote for "nature" to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of its foundation (november , ). the essence of the criticism is that with whatever demonstrations of hostility to parts of the darwinian theory lord salisbury covered the retreat of his party from their ancient positions, he admitted the validity of the main points for which darwin contended.] the essence of this great work (the "origin of species") may be stated summarily thus: it affirms the mutability of species and the descent of living forms, separated by differences of more than varietal value, from one stock. that is to say, it propounds the doctrine of evolution as far as biology is concerned. so far, we have merely a restatement of a doctrine which, in its most general form, is as old as scientific speculation. so far, we have the two theses which were declared to be scientifically absurd and theologically damnable by the bishop of oxford in . it is also of these two fundamental doctrines that, at the meeting of the british association in , the chancellor of the university of oxford spoke as follows:-- "another lasting and unquestioned effect has resulted from darwin's work. he has, as a matter of fact, disposed of the doctrine of the immutability of species..." "few now are found to doubt that animals separated by differences far exceeding those that distinguished what we know as species have yet descended from common ancestors." undoubtedly, every one conversant with the state of biological science is aware that general opinion has long had good reason for making the volte face thus indicated. it is also mere justice to darwin to say that this "lasting and unquestioned" revolution is, in a very real sense, his work. and yet it is also true that, if all the conceptions promulgated in the "origin of species" which are peculiarly darwinian were swept away, the theory of the evolution of animals and plants would not be in the slightest degree shaken. [the strain of this single effort was considerable] "i am frightfully tired," [he wrote on august ,] "but the game was worth the candle." [letters to sir j.d. hooker and to professor lewis campbell contain his own account of the affair. the reference in the latter to the priests is in reply to professor campbell's story of one of jowett's last sayings. they had been talking of the collective power of the priesthood to resist the introduction of new ideas; a long pause ensued, and the old man seemed to have slipped off into a doze, when he suddenly broke the silence by saying,] "the priests will always be too many for you." the spa, tunbridge wells, august , . my dear hooker, i wish, as everybody wished, you had been with us on wednesday evening at oxford when we settled accounts for , and got a receipt in full from the chancellor of the university, president of the association, and representative of ecclesiastical conservatism and orthodoxy. i was officially asked to second the vote of thanks for the address, and got a copy of it the night before--luckily--for it was a kittle business... it was very queer to sit there and hear the doctrines you and i were damned for advocating thirty-four years ago at oxford, enunciated as matters of course--disputed by no reasonable man!--in the sheldonian theatre by the chancellor... of course there is not much left of me, and it will take a fortnight's quiet at eastbourne (whither we return on tuesday next) to get right. but it was a pleasant last flare-up in the socket! with our love to you both. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, august , . my dear campbell, i am setting you a good example. you and i are really too old friends to go on wasting ink in honorary prefixes. i had a very difficult task at oxford. the old adam, of course, prompted the tearing of the address to pieces, which would have been a very easy job, especially the latter half of it. but as that procedure would not have harmonised well with the function of a seconder of a vote of thanks, and as, moreover, lord s. was very just and good in his expressions about darwin, i had to convey criticism in the shape of praise. it was very curious to me to sit there and hear the chancellor of the university accept, as a matter of course, the doctrines for which the bishop of oxford coarsely anathematised us thirty-four years earlier. e pur si muove! i am not afraid of the priests in the long-run. scientific method is the white ant which will slowly but surely destroy their fortifications. and the importance of scientific method in modern practical life--always growing and increasing--is the guarantee for the gradual emancipation of the ignorant upper and lower classes, the former of whom especially are the strength of the priests. my wife had a very bad attack of her old enemy some weeks ago, and she thought she would not be able to go to oxford. however, she picked up in the wonderfully elastic way she has, and i believe was less done-up than i when we left on the friday morning. i was glad the wife was there, as the meeting gave me a very kind reception, and it was probably the last flare-up in the socket. the warden of merton took great care of us, but it was sad to think of the vacuity of balliol. please remember me very kindly to father steffens and the steeles, and will you tell herr walther we are only waiting for a balloon to visit the hotel again? with our affectionate regards to mrs. campbell and yourself. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [here also belong several letters of miscellaneous interest. one is to mrs. lewis campbell at the maloja.] hodeslea, august , . my dear mrs. campbell, what a pity i am not a telepath! i might have answered your inquiry in the letter i was writing to your husband yesterday. the flower i found on the island in sils lake was a cross between gentiana lutea and gentiana punctata--nothing new, but interesting in many ways as a natural hybrid. as to baptizing the island, i am not guilty of usurping ecclesiastical functions to that extent. i have a notion that the island has a name already, but i cannot recollect it. walther would know. my wife had a bad attack, and we were obliged to give up some visits we had projected. but she got well enough to go to oxford with me for a couple of days, and really stood the racket better than i did. at present she is fairly well, and i hope the enemy may give her a long respite. the colliers come to us at the end of this month, and that will do her good. with our affectionate regards to you both and remembrances to our friends. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. [the first of the following set refers to a lively piece of nonsense which huxley wrote just before going to stay with the romanes' at oxford on the occasion of the romanes lecture. (see above.) after professor romanes' death, mrs. romanes asked leave to print it in the biography of her husband. in the other letters, huxley gives his consent, but, with his usual care for the less experienced, tried to prevent any malicious perversion of the fun which might put her in a false position.] to mrs. romanes. hodeslea, september , . i do not think i can possibly have any objection to your using my letter if you think it worth while--but perhaps you had better let me look at it, for i remember nothing about it--and my letters to people whom i trust are sometimes more plain-spoken than polite about things and men. you know at first there was some talk of my possibly supplying gladstone's place in case of his failure, and i would not be sure of my politeness in that quarter! pray do not suppose that your former letter was other than deeply interesting and touching to me. i had more than half a mind to reply to it, but hesitated with a man's horror of touching a wound he cannot heal. and then i got a bad bout of "liver," from which i am just picking up. hodeslea, september , . it's rather a rollicking epistle, i must say, but as my wife (who sends her love) says she thinks she is the only person who has a right to complain (and she does not), i do not know why it should not be published. p.s.--i fancy very few people will catch the allusion about not contradicting me. but perhaps it would be better to take the opinion of some impartial judge on that point. i do not care the least on my own account, but i see my words might be twisted into meaning that you had told me something about your previous guest, and that i referred to what you had said. of course you had done nothing of the kind, but as a wary old fox, experienced sufferer from the dodges of the misrepresenter, i feel bound not to let you get into any trouble if i can help it. a regular lady's p.s. this. p.s.--letter returned herewith. to mr. leslie stephen. hodeslea, october , . my dear stephen, i am very glad you like to have my omnium gatherum, and think the better of it for gaining me such a pleasant letter of acknowledgment. it is a great loss to me to be cut off from all my old friends, but sticking closely to my hermitage, with fresh air and immense quantities of rest, have become the conditions of existence for me, and one must put up with them. i have not paid all the debt incurred in my oxford escapade yet--the last "little bill" being a sharp attack of lumbago, out of which i hope i have now emerged. but my deafness alone should bar me from decent society. i have not the moral courage to avoid making shots at what people say, so as not to bore them; and the results are sometimes disastrous. i don't see there is any real difference between us. you are charitable enough to overlook the general immorality of the cosmos on the score of its having begotten morality in one small part of its domain. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. to mr. g-- s--. [see above.] hodeslea, october , . dear mr. s--, "liver," "lumbago," and other small ills the flesh is heir to, have been making me very lazy lately, especially about letter-writing. you have got into the depths where the comprehensible ends in the incomprehensible--where the symbols which may be used with confidence so far begin to get shaky. it does not seem to me absolutely necessary that matter should be composed of solid particles. the "atoms" may be persistent whirlpools of a continuous "substance"--which substance, if at rest, could not affect us (all sensory impression being dependent on motion) and subsequently would for us = . the evolution of matter would be the getting under weigh of this "nothing for us" until it became the "something for us," the different motions of which give us the mental states we call the qualities of things. but it needs a very steady head to walk safely among these abysses of thought, and the only use of letting the mind range among them is as a corrective to the hasty dogmatism of the so-called materialists, who talk just as glibly of that of which they know nothing as the most bigoted of the orthodox. [here also stand two letters to lord farrer, one before, the other after, his address at the statistical society on the relations between morals, economics and statistics, which touch on several philosophical and social questions, always, to his mind, intimately connected, and wherein wrong modes of thought indubitably lead to wrong modes of action. noteworthy is a defence of the fundamental method of political economy, however much its limitations might be forgotten by some of its exponents. the reference to the church agitation to introduce dogmatic teaching into the elementary schools has also a lasting interest.] hodeslea, november , . my dear farrer, whenever you get over the optimism of your youthful constitution (i wish i were endowed with that blessing) you will see that the gospels and i are right about the devil being "prince" (note the distinction--not "king") of the cosmos. the a priori road to scientific, political, and all other doctrine is h.r.h. satan's invention--it is the intellectual, broad, and easy path which leadeth to jehannum. the king's road is the strait path of painful observation and experiment, and few they be that enter thereon. r.g. latham, queerest of men, had singular flashes of insight now and then. forty years ago he gravely told me that the existence of the established church was to his mind one of the best evidences of the recency of the evolution of the human type from the simian. how much there is to confirm this view in present public opinion and the intellectual character of those who influence it! it explains all your difficulties at once, and i regret that i do not seem to have mentioned it at any of those mid-day symposia which were so pleasant when you and i were younger. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. p.s.--apropos of athelstan riley and his friends--i fool rather obliged to them. i assented to the compromise ( ) because i felt that english opinion would not let us have the education of the masses at any cheaper price; ( ) because, with the bible in lay hands, i was satisfied that the teaching from it would gradually become modified into harmony with common sense. i do not doubt that this is exactly what has happened, and is the ground of the alarm of the orthodox. but i do not repent of the compromise in the least. twenty years of reasonably good primary education is "worth a mass." moreover the diggleites stand to lose anyhow, and they will lose most completely and finally if they win at the elections this month. so i am rather inclined to hope they may. hodeslea, staveley road, eastbourne, november , . my dear mr. clodd, they say that the first thing an englishman does when he is hard up for money is to abstain from buying books. the first thing i do when i am liver-y, lumbagy, and generally short of energy, is to abstain from answering letters. and i am only just emerging from a good many weeks of that sort of flabbiness and poverty. many thanks for your notice of kidd's book. some vile punsters called it an attempt to put a kid glove on the iron hand of nature. i thought it (i mean the book, not the pun) clever from a literary point of view, and worthless from any other. you will see that i have been giving lord salisbury a roland for his oliver in "nature". but, as hinted, if we only had been in section d! with my wife's and my kind regards and remembrances. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. athenaeum club, december , . my dear farrer, i am indebted to you for giving the recording angel less trouble than he might otherwise have had, on account of the worse than usual unpunctuality of the london and brighton this morning. for i have utilised the extra time in reading and thinking over your very interesting address. thanks for your protest against the mischievous a priori method, which people will not understand is as gross an anachronism in social matters as it would be in hydrostatics. the so-called "sociology" is honeycombed with it, and it is hard to say who are worse, the individualists or the collectivists. but in your just wrath don't forget that there is such a thing as a science of social life, for which, if the term had not been so hopelessly degraded, politics is the proper name. men are beings of a certain constitution, who, under certain conditions, will as surely tend to act in certain ways as stones will tend to fall if you leave them unsupported. the laws of their nature are as invariable as the laws of gravitation, only the applications to particular cases offer worse problems than the case of the three bodies. the political economists have gone the right way to work--the way that the physical philosopher follows in all complex affairs--by tracing out the effects of one great cause of human action, the desire of wealth, supposing it to be unchecked. if they, or other people, have forgotten that there are other potent causes of action which may interfere with this, it is no fault of scientific method but only their own stupidity. hydrostatics is not a "dismal science," because water does not always seek the lowest level--e.g. from a bottle turned upside down, if there is a cork in the neck! there is much need that somebody should do for what is vaguely called "ethics" just what the political economists have done. settle the question of what will be done under the unchecked action of certain motives, and leave the problem of "ought" for subsequent consideration. for, whatever they ought to do, it is quite certain the majority of men will act as if the attainment of certain positive and negative pleasures were the end of action. we want a science of "eubiotics" to tell us exactly what will happen if human beings are exclusively actuated by the desire of well-being in the ordinary sense. of course the utilitarians have laid the foundations of such a science, with the result that the nicknamer of genius called this branch of science "pig philosophy," making just the same blunder as when he called political economy "dismal science." "moderate well-being" may be no more the worthiest end of life than wealth. but if it is the best to be had in this queer world--it may be worth trying for. but you will begin to wish the train had been punctual! draw comfort from the fact that if error is always with us, it is, at any rate, remediable. i am more hopeful than when i was young. perhaps life (like matrimony, as some say) should begin with a little aversion! ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. [some years before this, a fund for a "darwin medal" had been established in memory of the great naturalist, the medal to be awarded biennially for researches in biology. with singular appropriateness, the first award was made to dr. a.r. wallace, the joint propounder of the theory of natural selection, whose paper, entrusted to darwin's literary sponsorship, caused the speedy publication of darwin's own long-continued researches and speculations. the second, with equal appropriateness, was to sir j.d. hooker, both as a leader in science and a helper and adviser of darwin. huxley's own view of such scientific honours as medals and diplomas was that they should be employed to stimulate for the future rather than to reward for the past; and delighted as he was at the poetic justice of these two awards, this justice once satisfied, he let his opinion be known that thenceforward the darwin medal ought to be given only to younger men. but when this year he found the darwin medal awarded to himself "for his researches in biology and his long association with charles darwin," he could not but be touched and gratified by this mark of appreciation from his fellow-workers in science, this association in one more scientific record with old allies and true friends--to "have his niche in the pantheon" next to hooker and near to darwin. it was a rare instance of the fitness of things that the three men who had done most to develop and to defend darwin's ideas should live to stand first in the list of the darwin medalists; and huxley felt this to be a natural closing of a chapter in his life, a fitting occasion on which to bid farewell to public life in the world of science. almost at the same moment another chapter in science reached its completion in the "coming of age" of "nature", a journal which, when scientific interests at large had grown stronger, had succeeded in realising his own earlier efforts to found a scientific organ, and with which he had always been closely associated. as mentioned above, he wrote for the november number an introductory article called "past and present," comparing the state of scientific thought of the day with that of twenty-five years before, when the journal was first started. to celebrate the occasion, a dinner was to be held this same month of all who had been associated with "nature", and this huxley meant to attend, as well as the more important anniversary dinner of the royal society on st. andrew's day.] i have promised [he writes on november to sir m. foster] to go to the "nature" dinner if i possibly can. indeed i should be sorry to be away. as to the royal society nothing short of being confined to bed will stop me. and i shall be good for a few words after dinner. thereafter i hope not to appear again on any stage. [his letter about the medal expresses his feelings as to the award.] hodeslea, november , . my dear foster, didn't i tell the p.r.s., secretaries, treasurer, and all the fellows thereof, when i spoke about hooker years ago, that thenceforth the darwin medal was to be given to the young, and not to useless old extinct volcanoes? i ought to be very angry with you all for coolly ignoring my wise counsels. but whether it is vanity or something a good deal better, i am not. one gets chill old age, and it is very pleasant to be warmed up unexpectedly even against one's injunctions. moreover, my wife is very pleased, not to say jubilant; and if i were made archbishop of canterbury i should not be able to convince her that my services to theology were hardly of the sort to be rewarded in that fashion. i need not say what i think about your action in the matter, my faithful old friend. with our love to you both. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i suppose you are all right again, as you write from the r.s. liver permitting i shall attend meeting and dinner. it is very odd that the medal should come along with my pronouncement in "nature", which i hope you like. i cut out rather a stinging paragraph at the end. hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . my dear donnelly, why on earth did i not answer your letter before? echo (being irish) says, "because of your infernal bad habit of putting off; which is growing upon you, you wretched old man." of course i shall be very glad if anything can be done for s--. howes has written to me about him since your letter arrived--and i am positively going to answer his epistle. it's sunday morning, and i feel good. you will have seen that the r.s. has been giving me the darwin medal, though i gave as broad a hint as was proper the last time i spoke at the anniversary, that it ought to go to the young men. nevertheless, with ordinary inconsistency of the so-called "rational animal," i am well pleased. i hope you will be at the dinner, and would ask you to be my guest--but as i thought my boys and boys-in-law would like to be there, i have already exceeded my lawful powers of invitation, and had to get a dispensation from michael foster. i suppose i shall be like a horse that "stands at livery" for some time after--but it is positively my last appearance on any stage. we were very glad to hear from lady donnelly that you had had a good and effectual holiday. with our love. ever yours, t.h. huxley. i return howes' letter in case you want it. i see i need not write to him again after all. three cheers! please give lady donnelly this. a number of estimable members of her sex have flown at me for writing what i thought was a highly complimentary letter. but she will be just, i know. "the best of women are apt to be a little weak in the great practical arts of give-and-take, and putting up with a beating, and a little too strong in their belief in the efficacy of government. men learn about these things in the ordinary course of their business; women have no chance in home life, and the boards and councils will be capital schools for them. again, in the public interest it will be well; women are more naturally economical than men, and have none of our false shame about looking after pence. moreover, they don't job for any but their lovers, husbands, and children, so that we know the worst." [the speech at the royal society anniversary dinner--which he evidently enjoyed making--was a fine piece of speaking, and quite carried away the audience, whether in the gentle depreciation of his services to science, or in his profession of faith in the methods of science and the final triumph of the doctrine of evolution, whatever theories of its operation might be adopted or discarded in the course of further investigation. i quote from the "times" report of the speech:--] but the most difficult task that remains is that which concerns myself. it is years ago this day since the royal society did me the honour to award me a royal medal, and thereby determined my career. but, having long retired into the position of a veteran, i confess that i was extremely astonished--i honestly also say that i was extremely pleased to receive the announcement that you had been good enough to award to me the darwin medal. but you know the royal society, like all things in this world, is subject to criticism. i confess that with the ingrained instincts of an old official that which arose in my mind after the reception of the information that i had been thus distinguished was to start an inquiry which i suppose suggests itself to every old official--how can my government be justified? in reflecting upon what had been my own share in what are now very largely ancient transactions, it was perfectly obvious to me that i had no such claims as those of mr. wallace. it was perfectly clear to me that i had no such claims as those of my lifelong friend sir joseph hooker, who for years placed all his great sources of knowledge, his sagacity, his industry, at the disposition of his friend darwin. and really, i begin to despair of what possible answer could be given to the critics whom the royal society, meeting as it does on november , has lately been very apt to hear about on december . naturally there occurred to my mind that famous and comfortable line, which i suppose has helped so many people under like circumstances, "they also serve who only stand and wait." i am bound to confess that the standing and waiting, so far as i am concerned, to which i refer, has been of a somewhat peculiar character. i can only explain it, if you will permit me to narrate a story which came to me in my old nautical days, and which, i believe, has just as much foundation as a good deal of other information which i derived at the same period from the same source. there was a merchant ship in which a member of the society of friends had taken passage, and that ship was attacked by a pirate, and the captain thereupon put into the hands of the member of the society of friends a pike, and desired him to take part in the subsequent action, to which, as you may imagine, the reply was that he would do nothing of the kind; but he said that he had no objection to stand and wait at the gangway. he did stand and wait with the pike in his hands, and when the pirates mounted and showed themselves coming on board he thrust his pike with the sharp end forward into the persons who were mounting, and he said, "friend, keep on board thine own ship." it is in that sense that i venture to interpret the principle of standing and waiting to which i have referred. i was convinced as firmly as i have ever been convinced of anything in my life, that the "origin of species" was a ship laden with a cargo of rich value, and which, if she were permitted to pursue her course, would reach a veritable scientific golconda, and i thought it my duty, however naturally averse i might be to fighting, to bid those who would disturb her beneficent operations to keep on board their own ship. if it has pleased the royal society to recognise such poor services as i may have rendered in that capacity, i am very glad, because i am as much convinced now as i was years ago that the theory propounded by mr. darwin--i mean that which he propounded, not that which has been reported to be his by too many ill-instructed, both friends and foes--has never yet been shown to be inconsistent with any positive observations, and if i may use a phrase which i know has been objected to, and which i use in a totally different sense from that in which it was first proposed by its first propounder, i do believe that on all grounds of pure science it "holds the field," as the only hypothesis at present before us which has a sound scientific foundation. it is quite possible that you will apply to me the remark that has often been applied to persons in such a position as mine, that we are apt to exaggerate the importance of that to which our lives have been more or less devoted. but i am sincerely of opinion that the views which were propounded by mr. darwin years ago may be understood hereafter as constituting an epoch in the intellectual history of the human race. they will modify the whole system of our thought and opinion, our most intimate convictions. but i do not know, i do not think anybody knows, whether the particular views which he held will be hereafter fortified by the experience of the ages which come after us; but of this thing i am perfectly certain, that the present course of things has resulted from the feeling of the smaller men who have followed him that they are incompetent to bend the bow of ulysses, and in consequence many of them are seeking their salvation in mere speculation. those who wish to attain to some clear and definite solution of the great problems which mr. darwin was the first person to set before us in later times must base themselves upon the facts which are stated in his great work, and, still more, must pursue their inquiries by the methods of which he was so brilliant an exemplar throughout the whole of his life. you must have his sagacity, his untiring search after the knowledge of fact, his readiness always to give up a preconceived opinion to that which was demonstrably true, before you can hope to carry his doctrines to their ultimate issue; and whether the particular form in which he has put them before us may be such as is finally destined to survive or not is more, i venture to think, than anybody is capable at this present moment of saying. but this one thing is perfectly certain--that it is only by pursuing his methods, by that wonderful single-mindedness, devotion to truth, readiness to sacrifice all things for the advance of definite knowledge, that we can hope to come any nearer than we are at present to the truths which he struggled to attain. to sir j.d. hooker. hodeslea, eastbourne, december , . my dear old man, see the respect i have for your six years' seniority! i wished you had been at the dinner, but was glad you were not. especially as next morning there was a beastly fog, out of which i bolted home as fast as possible. i shall have to give up these escapades. they knock me up for a week afterwards. and really it is a pity, just as i have got over my horror of public speaking, and find it very amusing. but i suppose i should gravitate into a bore as old fellows do, and so it is as well i am kept out of temptation. i will try to remember what i said at the "nature" dinner. i scolded the young fellows pretty sharply for their slovenly writing. [a brief report of this speech is to be found in the "british medical journal" for december , , page .] there will be a tenth volume of essays some day, and an index rerum. do you remember how you scolded me for being too speculative in my maiden lecture on animal individuality forty odd years ago? "on revient toujours," or, to put it another way, "the dog returns to his etc. etc." so i am deep in philosophy, grovelling through diogenes laertius--plutarch's "placita" and sich--and often wondering whether the schoolmasters have any better ground for maintaining that greek is a finer language than english than the fact that they can't write the latter dialect. so far as i can see, my faculties are as good (including memory for anything that is not useful) as they were fifty years ago, but i can't work long hours, or live out of fresh air. three days of london bowls me over. i expect you are in much the same case. but you seem to be able to stoop over specimens in a way impossible to me. it is that incapacity has made me give up dissection and microscopic work. i do a lot on my back, and i can tell you that the latter posture is an immense economy of strength. indeed, when my heart was troublesome, i used to spend my time either in active outdoor exercise or horizontally. the stracheys were here the other day, and it was a great pleasure to us to see them. i think he has had a very close shave with that accident. there is nobody whom i should more delight to honour--a right good man all round--but i am not competent to judge of his work. you are, and i do not see why you should not suggest it. i would give him a medal for being r. strachey, but probably the council would make difficulties. by the way, do you see the "times" has practically climbed down about the royal society--came down backwards like a bear, growling all the time? i don't think we shall have any more first of december criticisms. lord help you through all this screed. with our love to you both. ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. abram, abraham became by will divine; let pickled brian's name be changed to brine! "poetae minores". poor brian.--brutal jest! [(sir joseph's son, brian, had fallen into a pan of brine.) the following was written to a friend who had alluded to his painful recollection of a former occasion when he was huxley's guest at the anniversary dinner of the royal society, and was hastily summoned from it to find his wife dying.] i fully understand your feeling about the r.s. dinner. i have not forgotten the occasion when you were my guest: still less my brief sight of you when i called the next day. these things are the "lachrymae rerum"--the abysmal griefs hidden under the current of daily life, and seemingly forgotten, till now and then they come up to the surface--a flash of agony--like the fish that jumps in a calm pool. one has one's groan and goes to work again. if i knew of anything else for it, i would tell you; but all my experience ends in the questionable thanksgiving, "it's lucky it's no worse." with which bit of practical philosophy, and our love, believe me, ever yours affectionately, t.h. huxley. [before speaking of his last piece of work, in the vain endeavour to complete which he exposed himself to his old enemy, influenza, i shall give several letters of miscellaneous interest. the first is in reply to lord farrer's inquiry as to where he could obtain a fuller account of the subject tersely discussed in the chapter he had contributed to the "life of owen". ("which," wrote lord farrer, "is just what i wanted as an outline of the biological and morphological discussion of the last years. but it is 'pemmican' to an aged and enfeebled digestion. is there such a thing as a diluted solution of it in the shape of any readable book?")] hodeslea, january , . my dear farrer, miserable me! having addressed myself to clear off a heap of letters that have been accumulating, i find i have not answered an inquiry of yours of nearly a month's standing. i am sorry to say that i cannot tell you of any book (readable or otherwise) that will convert my "pemmican" into decent broth for you. there are histories of zoology and of philosophical anatomy, but they all of them seem to me to miss the point (which you have picked out of the pemmican). indeed, that is just why i took such a lot of pains over these or pages. and i am immensely tickled by the fact that among all the critical notices i have seen, not a soul sees what i have been driving at as you have done. i really wish you would write a notice of it, just to show these gigadibses (vide right reverend blougram) what blind buzzards they are! [see browning's "bishop blougram's apology":--"gigadibs the literary man" with his abstract intellectual plan of life quite irrespective of life's plainest laws.] enter a maid. "please sir, mrs. huxley says she would be glad if you would go out in the sun." "all right, allen." anecdote for your next essay on government! the fact is, i have been knocked up ever since tuesday, when our university deputation came off; and my good wife (who is laid up herself) suspects me (not without reason) of failing to take advantage of a gleam of sunshine. by the way, can you help us over the university business? lord rosebery is favourable, and there is absolutely nobody on the other side except sundry philistines, who, having got their degrees, are desirous of inflating their market value. yours very truly, t.h. huxley. [the next is in answer to an appeal for a subscription, from the church army.] january , . i regret that i am unable to contribute to the funds of the church army. i hold it to be my duty to do what i can for the cases of distress of which i have direct knowledge; and i am glad to be able now and then to give timely aid to the industrious and worthy people with whom, as a householder, i am brought into personal relation; and who are so often engaged in a noiseless and unpitied but earnest struggle to do well. in my judgment, a domestic servant, who is perhaps giving half her wages to support her old parents, is more worthy of help than half-a-dozen magdalens. under these circumstances, you will understand that such funds as are at my disposal are already fully engaged. [the following is to a gentleman--an american, i think--who sent him a long manuscript, an extraordinary farrago of nonsense, to read and criticise, and help to publish. but as he seemed to have acted in sheer simplicity, he got an answer:--] hodeslea, january , . dear sir, i should have been glad if you had taken the ordinary, and, i think, convenient course of writing for my permission before you sent the essay which has reached me, and which i return by this post. i should then have had the opportunity of telling you that i do not undertake to read, or take any charge of such matters, and we should both have been spared some trouble. i the more regret this, since being unwilling to return your work without examination, i have looked at it, and feel bound to give you the following piece of advice, which i fear may be distasteful, as good counsel generally is. lock up your essay. for two years--if possible, three--read no popular expositions of science, but devote yourself to a course of sound practical instruction in elementary physics, chemistry, and biology. then re-read your essay; do with it as you think best; and, if possible, regard a little more kindly than you are likely to do at present, yours faithfully, t.h. huxley. [the following passage from a letter to sir j.d. hooker refers to a striking discovery made by dubois:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . the dutchmen seem to have turned up something like the "missing link" in java, according to a paper i have just received from marsh. i expect he was a socratic party, with his hair rather low down on his forehead and warty cheeks. pithecanthropus erectus dubois (fossil) rather aino-ish about the body, small in the calf, and cheese-cutting in the shins. le voici! chapter . . . two months of almost continuous frost, during which the thermometer fell below zero, marked the winter of - . tough, if not strong, as huxley's constitution was, this exceptional cold, so lowering to the vitality of age, accentuated the severity of the illness which followed in the train of influenza, and at last undermined even his powers of resistance. but until the influenza seized him, he was more than usually vigorous and brilliant. he was fatigued, but not more so than he expected, by attending a deputation to the prime minister in the depth of january, and delivering a speech on the london university question; and in february he was induced to write a reply to the attack upon agnosticism contained in mr. arthur balfour's "foundations of belief". into this he threw himself with great energy, all the more because the notices in the daily press were likely to give the reading public a wrong impression as to its polemic against his own position. mr. wilfrid ward gives an account of a conversation with him on this subject:-- some one had sent me mr. a.j. balfour's book on the "foundations of belief" early in february . we were very full of it, and it was the theme of discussion on the th of february, when two friends were lunching with us. not long after luncheon, huxley came in, and seemed in extraordinary spirits, he began talking of erasmus and luther, expressing a great preference for erasmus, who would, he said, have impregnated the church with culture, and brought it abreast of the thought of the times, while luther concentrated attention on individual mystical doctrines. "it was very trying for erasmus to be identified with luther, from whom he differed absolutely. a man ought to be ready to endure persecution for what he does hold; but it is hard to be persecuted for what you don't hold." i said that i thought his estimate of erasmus's attitude towards the papacy coincided with professor r.c. jebb's. he asked if i could lend him jebb's rede lecture on the subject. i said that i had not got it at hand, but i added, "i can lend you another book, which i think you ought to read--balfour's 'foundations of belief'." he at once became extremely animated, and spoke of it as those who have read his criticisms, published in the following month, would expect.] "you need not lend me that. i have exercised my mind with it a good deal already. mr. balfour ought to have acquainted himself with the opinions of those he attacks. one has no objection to being abused for what one does hold, as i said of erasmus; at least, one is prepared to put up with it. an attack on us by some one who understood our position would do all of us good--myself included. but mr. balfour has acted like the french in : he has gone to war without any ordnance maps, and without having surveyed the scene of the campaign. no human being holds the opinions he speaks of as 'naturalism.' he is a good debater. he knows the value of a word. the word 'naturalism' has a bad sound and unpleasant associations. it would tell against us in the house of commons, and so it will with his readers. 'naturalism' contrasts with 'supernaturalism.' he has not only attacked us for what we don't hold, but he has been good enough to draw out a catechism for 'us wicked people,' to teach us what we must hold." [it was rather difficult to get him to particulars, but we did so by degrees. he said], "balfour uses the word phenomena as applying simply to the outer world and not to the inner world. the only people his attack would hold good of would be the comtists, who deny that psychology is a science. they may be left out of account. they advocate the crudest eighteenth-century materialism. all the empiricists, from locke onwards, make the observation of the phenomena of the mind itself quite separate from the study of mere sensation. no man in his senses supposes that the sense of beauty, or the religious feelings [this with a courteous bow to a priest who was present], or the sense of moral obligation, are to be accounted for in terms of sensation, or come to us through sensation." [i said that, as i understood it, i did not think mr. balfour supposed they would acknowledge the position he ascribed to them, and that one of his complaints was that they did not work out their premises to their logical conclusions. i added that so far as one of mr. balfour's chief points was concerned--the existence of the external world--mill was almost the only man on their side in this century who had faced the problem frankly, and he had been driven to say that all men can know is that there are "permanent possibilities of sensation." he did not seem inclined to pursue the question of an external world, but said that though mill's "logic" was very good, empiricists were not bound by all his theories. he characterised the book as a very good and even brilliant piece of work from a literary point of view; but as a helpful contribution to the great controversy, the most disappointing he had ever read. i said, "there has been no adverse criticism of it yet." he answered with emphasis], "no! but there soon will be." ["from you?" i asked.] "i let out no secrets," [was the reply. he then talked with great admiration and affection of mr. balfour's brother, francis. his early death, and w.k. clifford's (huxley said), had been the greatest loss to science--not only in england, but in the world--in our time.] "half a dozen of us old fogies could have been better spared." [he remembered frank balfour as a boy at [harrow] and saw his unusual talent there.] "then my friend, michael foster, took him up at cambridge, and found out that he had real genius for biology. i used to say there was science in the blood, but this new book of his brother's," [he added, smiling], "shows i was wrong." apropos to his remark about the comtists, one of the company pointed out that in later life comte recognised a science of "the individual," equivalent to what huxley meant by psychology.] "that," [he replied], "was due to the influence of clotilde de vaux. you see," [he added, with a kind of sir charles grandison bow to my wife], "what power your sex may have." [as huxley was going out of the house, i said to him that father a.b. (the priest who had been present) had not expected to find himself in his company.] "no! i trust he had plenty of holy water with him," [was the reply. ...after he had gone, we were all agreed as to the extraordinary vigour and brilliancy he had shown. some one said, "he is like a man who is what the scotch call 'fey.'" we laughed at the idea, but we naturally recalled the remark later on. the story of how the article was written is told in the following letters. it was suggested by mr. knowles, and undertaken after perusal of the review of the book in the "times". huxley intended to have the article ready for the march number of the "nineteenth century", but it grew longer than he had meant it to be, and partly for this reason, partly for fear lest the influenza, then raging at eastbourne, might prevent him from revising the whole thing at once, he divided it into two instalments. he writes to one daughter on march :--] i suppose my time will come; so i am "making hay while the sun shines" (in point of fact it is raining and blowing a gale outside) and finishing my counterblast to balfour before it does come. love to all you poor past snivellers from an expectant sniveller. [and to another:--] i think the cavalry charge in this month's "nineteenth" will amuse you. the heavy artillery and the bayonets will be brought into play next month. dean stanley told me he thought being made a bishop destroyed a man's moral courage. i am inclined to think that the practice of the methods of political leaders destroys their intellect for all serious purposes. no sooner was the first part safely sent off than the contingency he had feared came to pass; only, instead of the influenza meaning incapacity for a fortnight, an unlucky chill brought on bronchitis and severe lung trouble. (as he wrote on february to sir m. foster]: "if i could compound for a few hours' neuralgia, i would not mind; but those long weeks of debility make me very shy of the influenza demon. here we are practically isolated...i once asked gordon why he didn't have the african fever. 'well,' he said, you see, fellows think they shall have it, and they do. i didn't think so, and didn't get it.' exercise your thinking faculty to that extent.") the second part of the article was never fully revised for press.] hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear knowles, your telegram came before i had looked at to-day's "times" and the article on balfour's book, so i answered with hesitation. now i am inclined to think that the job may be well worth doing, in that it will give me the opportunity of emphasising the distinction between the view i hold and spencer's, and perhaps of proving that balfour is an agnostic after my own heart. so please send the book. only if this infernal weather, which shrivels me up soul and body, lasts, i do not know how long i may be over the business. however, you tell me to take my own time. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear knowles, i send you by this post an instalment (the larger moiety) of my article, which i should be glad to have set up at once in slip, and sent to me as speedily as may be. the rest shall follow in the course of the next two or three days. i am rather pleased with the thing myself, so it is probably not so very good! but you will judge for yourself. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear knowles, we send our best congratulations to mrs. knowles and yourself on the birth of a grand-daughter. i forget whether you have had any previous experience of the "art d'etre grandpere" or not--but i can assure you, from such experiences, that it is easy and pleasant of acquirement, and that the objects of it are veritable "articles de luxe," involving much amusement and no sort of responsibility on the part of the possessor. you shall have the rest of my screed by to-morrow's post. ever yours very faithfully, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, february , . my dear knowles, seven mortal hours have i been hard at work this day to try to keep my promise to you, and as i find that impossible, i have struck work and will see balfour and his "foundations", and even that ark of literature the "nineteenth", at ballywack, before i do any more. but the whole affair shall be sent by a morning's post to-morrow. i have the proofs. i have found the thing getting too long for one paper, and requiring far more care than i could put into the next two days--so i propose to divide it, if you see no objection. and there is another reason for this course. influenza is raging here. i hear of hundreds of cases, and if it comes my way, as it did before, i go to bed and stop there--"the world forgetting and by the world forgot"--until i am killed or cured. so you would not get your article. as it stands, it is not a bad gambit. we will play the rest of the game afterwards, d.v. and k.v. hope mother and baby are doing well. ever yours, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, february , , . p.m. my dear knowles, i have just played and won as hard a match against time as i ever knew in the days of my youth. the proofs, happily, arrived by the first post, so i got to work at them before , polished them off by , and put them into the post (myself) by . . so you ought to have them by p.m. and, to make your mind easy, i have just telegraphed to you to say so. but, lord's sake! let some careful eye run over the part of which i have had no revise--for i am "capable de tout" in the way of overlooking errors. i am very glad you like the thing. the second instalment shall be no worse. i grieve to say that my estimation of balfour, as a thinker, sinks lower and lower, the further i go. god help the people who think his book an important contribution to thought! the gigadibsians who say so are past divine assistance! we are very glad to hear the grandchild and mother are getting on so well. ever yours very truly, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . my dear knowles, the proofs have just arrived, but i am sorry to say that (i believe for the first time in our transactions) i shall have to disappoint you. just after i had sent off the manuscript influenza came down upon me with a swoop. i went to bed and am there still, with no chance of quitting it in a hurry. my wife is in the same case; item one of the maids. the house is a hospital, and by great good fortune we have a capital nurse. doctor says its a mild type, in which case i wonder what severe types may be like. ("but in the matter of aches and pains, restless paroxysms of coughing and general incapacity, i can give it a high character for efficiency." [to m. foster, march .]) i find coughing continuously for fourteen hours or so a queer kind of mildness. could you put in an excuse on account of influenza? can't write any more. ever yours, t.h. huxley. hodeslea, eastbourne, march , . my dear knowles, i am making use of the pen of my dear daughter and good nurse, in the first place to thank you for your cheque, in the second place to say that you must not look for the article this month. i haven't been out of bed since the st, but they are fighting a battle with bronchitis over my body. ever yours very faithfully, for t.h.h., sophy huxley. [the next four months were a period of painful struggle against disease, borne with a patience and gentleness which was rare even in the long experience of the trained nurses who tended him. to natural toughness of constitution he added a power of will unbroken by the long strain; and for the sake of others to whom his life meant so much, he wished to recover and willed to do everything towards recovery. and so he managed to throw off the influenza and the severe bronchitis which attended it. what was marvellous at his age, and indeed would scarcely have been expected in a young man, most serious mischief induced by the bronchitis disappeared. by may he was strong enough to walk from the terrace to the lawn and his beloved saxifrages, and to remount the steps to the house without help. but though the original attack was successfully thrown off, the lung trouble had affected the heart; and in his weakened state, renal mischief ensued. yet he held out splendidly, never giving in, save for one hour of utter prostration, all through this weary length of sickness. his first recovery strengthened him in expecting to get well from the second attack. and on june he writes brightly enough to sir j.d. hooker:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, june , . my dear old friend, it was cheering to get your letter and to hear that you had got through winter and diphtheria without scathe. i can't say very much for myself yet, but i am carried down to a tent in the garden every day, and live in the fresh air all i can. the thing that keeps me back is an irritability of the stomach tending to the rejection of all solid food. however, i think i am slowly getting the better of it--thanks to my constitutional toughness and careful nursing and dieting. what has spencer been trampling on the "pour le merite" for, when he accepted the lyncei? i was just writing to congratulate him when, by good luck, i saw he had refused! the beastly nausea which comes on when i try to do anything warns me to stop. with our love to you both, ever yours, t.h. huxley. [the last time i saw him was on a visit to eastbourne from june - . i was astonished to find how well he looked in spite of all; thin, indeed, but browned with the endless sunshine of the summer as he sat every day in the verandah. his voice was still fairly strong; he was delighted to see us about him, and was cheerful, even merry at times. as the nurse said, she could not expect him to recover, but he did not look like a dying man. when i asked him how he was, he said, "a mere carcass, which has to be tended by other people." but to the last he looked forward to recovery. one day he told the nurse that the doctors must be wrong about the renal mischief, for if they were right, he ought already to be in a state of coma. this was precisely what they found most astonishing in his case; it seemed as if the mind, the strong nervous organisation, were triumphing over the shattered body. herein lay one of the chief hopes of ultimate recovery. as late as june he wrote, with shaky handwriting but indomitable spirit, to relieve his old friend from the anxiety he must feel from the newspaper bulletins.] hodeslea, eastbourne, june , . my dear hooker, the pessimistic reports of my condition which have got into the papers may be giving you unnecessary alarm for the condition of your old comrade. so i send a line to tell you the exact state of affairs. there is kidney mischief going on--and it is accompanied by very distressing attacks of nausea and vomiting, which sometimes last for hours and make life a burden. however, strength keeps up very well considering, and of course all depends upon how the renal business goes. at present i don't feel at all like "sending in my checks," and without being over sanguine i rather incline to think that my native toughness will get the best of it--albuminuria or otherwise. ever your faithful friend, t.h.h. misfortunes never come single. my son-in-law, eckersley, died of yellow fever the other day at san salvador--just as he was going to take up an appointment at lima worth pounds a year. rachel and her three children have but the slenderest provision. [the next two days there was a slight improvement but on the third morning the heart began to fail. the great pain subdued by anaesthetics, he lingered on about seven hours, and at half-past three on june passed away very quietly. he was buried at finchley, on july , beside his brother george and his little son noel, under the shadow of the oak, which had grown up into a stately young tree from the little sapling it had been when the grave of his first-born was dug beneath it, five and thirty years before. the funeral was of a private character. an old friend, the reverend llewelyn davies, came from kirkby lonsdale to read the service; the many friends who gathered at the grave-side were there as friends mourning the death of a friend, and all touched with the same sense of personal loss. by his special direction, three lines from a poem written by his wife, were inscribed upon his tombstone--lines inspired by his own robust conviction that, all question of the future apart, this life as it can be lived, pain, sorrow, and evil notwithstanding, is worth--and well worth-living:-- be not afraid, ye waiting hearts that weep; for still he giveth his beloved sleep, and if an endless sleep he wills, so best.] chapter . . he had intellect to comprehend his highest duty distinctly, and force of character to do it; which of us dare ask for a higher summary of his life than that? [such was huxley's epitaph upon henslow; it was the standard which he endeavoured to reach in his own life. it is the expression of that passion for veracity which was perhaps his strongest characteristic; an uncompromising passion for truth in thought, which would admit no particle of self-deception, no assertion beyond what could be verified; for truth in act, perfect straightforwardness and sincerity, with complete disregard of personal consequences for uttering unpalatable fact. truthfulness, in his eyes, was the cardinal virtue, without which no stable society can exist. conviction, sincerity, he always respected, whether on his own side or against him. clever men, he would say, are as common as blackberries; the rare thing is to find a good one. the lie from interested motives was only more hateful to him than the lie from self-delusion or foggy thinking. with this he classed the "sin of faith," as he called it; that form of credence which does not fulfil the duty of making a right use of reason; which prostitutes reason by giving assent to propositions which are neither self-evident nor adequately proved. this principle has always been far from finding universal acceptance. one of his theological opponents went so far as to affirm that a doctrine may be not only held, but dogmatically insisted on, by a teacher who is, all the time, fully aware that science may ultimately prove it to be quite untenable. his own course went to the opposite extreme. in teaching, where it was possible to let the facts speak for themselves, he did not further urge their bearing upon wider problems. he preferred to warn beginners against drawing superficial inferences in favour of his own general theories, from facts the real meaning of which was not immediately apparent. father hahn (s.j.), who studied under him in , writes:-- one day when i was talking to him, our conversation turned upon evolution. "there is one thing about you i cannot understand," i said, "and i should like a word in explanation. for several months now i have been attending your course, and i have never heard you mention evolution, while in your public lectures everywhere you openly proclaim yourself an evolutionist." ("revue des questions scientifiques" (brussels), for october .) now it would be impossible to imagine a better opportunity for insisting on evolution than his lectures on comparative anatomy, when animals are set side by side in respect of the gradual development of functions. but huxley was so reserved on this subject in his lectures that, speaking one day of a species forming a transition between two others, he immediately added:--] "when i speak of transition i do not in the least mean to say that one species turned into a second to develop thereafter into a third. what i mean is, that the characters of the second are intermediate between those of the two others. it is as if i were to say that such a cathedral, canterbury, for example, is a transition between york minster and westminster abbey. no one would imagine, on hearing the word transition, that a transmutation of these buildings actually took place from one into other." [(doubtless in connection with the familiar warning that intermediate types are not necessarily links in the direct line of descent.) but to return to his reply:--] "here in my teaching lectures [he said to me] i have time to put the facts fully before a trained audience. in my public lectures i am obliged to pass rapidly over the facts, and i put forward my personal convictions. and it is for this that people come to hear me." [as to the question whether children should be brought up in entire disregard to the beliefs rejected by himself, but still current among the mass of his fellow-countrymen, he was of opinion that they ought to know] "the mythology of their time and country," [otherwise one would at the best tend to make young prigs of them; but as they grew up their questions should be answered frankly. (the wording of a paragraph in professor mivart's "reminiscences" ("nineteenth century", december , p. ), tends, i think, to leave a wrong impression on this point.) the natural tendency to veracity, strengthened by the observation of the opposite quality in one with whom he was early brought into contact, received its decisive impulse, as has been told before, from carlyle, whose writings confirmed and established his youthful reader in a hatred of shams and make-believes equal to his own. in his mind no compromise was possible between truth and untruth. (as he once said, when urged to write a more eulogistic notice of a dead friend than he thought deserved], "the only serious temptations to perjury i have ever known have arisen out of the desire to be of some comfort to people i cared for in trouble. if there are such things as plato's 'royal lies' they are surely those which one is tempted to tell on such occasions. mrs. -- is such a good devoted little woman, and i am so doubtful about having a soul, that it seems absurd to hesitate to peril it for her satisfaction.") [against authorities and influences he published "man's place in nature," though warned by his friends that to do so meant ruin to his prospects. when he had once led the way and challenged the upholders of conventional orthodoxy, others backed him up with a whole armoury of facts. but his fight was as far as possible for the truth itself, for fact, not merely for controversial victory or personal triumph. yet, as has been said by a representative of a very different school of thought, who can wonder that he should have hit out straight from the shoulder, in reply to violent or insidious attacks, the stupidity of which sometimes merited scorn as well as anger? in his theological controversies he was no less careful to avoid any approach to mere abuse or ribaldry such as some opponents of christian dogma indulged in. for this reason he refused to interpose in the well-known foote case. discussion, he said, could be carried on effectually without deliberate wounding of others' feelings. as he wrote in reply to an appeal for help in this case (march , ):--] i have not read the writings for which mr. foote was prosecuted. but, unless their nature has been grossly misrepresented, i cannot say that i feel disposed to intervene on his behalf. i am ready to go great lengths in defence of freedom of discussion, but i decline to admit that rightful freedom is attacked, when a man is prevented from coarsely and brutally insulting his neighbours' honest beliefs. i would rather make an effort to get legal penalties inflicted with equal rigour on some of the anti-scientific blasphemers--who are quite as coarse and unmannerly in their attacks on opinions worthy of all respect as mr. foote can possibly have been. [the grand result of his determination not to compromise where truth was concerned, was the securing freedom of thought and speech. one man after another, looking back on his work, declares that if we can say what we think now, it is because he fought the battle of freedom. not indeed the battle of toleration, if toleration means toleration of error for its own sake. error, he thought, ought to be extirpated by all legitimate means, and not assisted because it is conscientiously held. as lord hobhouse wrote, soon after his death:-- i see now many laudatory notices of him in papers. but i have not seen, and i think the younger men do not know, that which (apart from science) i should put forward as his strongest claim to reverence and gratitude; and that is the steadfast courage and consummate ability with which he fought the battle of intellectual freedom, and insisted that people should be allowed to speak their honest convictions without being oppressed or slandered by the orthodox. he was one of those, perhaps the very foremost, who won that priceless freedom for us; and, as is too common, people enter into the labours of the brave, and do not even know what their elders endured, or what has been done for themselves. with this went a proud independence of spirit, intolerant of patronage, careless of titular honours, indifferent to the accumulation of worldly wealth. he cared little even for recognition of his work. "if i had pounds a year" [a sum which might have supported a bachelor, but was entirely inadequate to the needs of a large family.], he exclaimed at the outset of his career, "i should be content to work anonymously for the advancement of science." the only recognition he considered worth having, was that of the scientific world; yet so little did he seek it, so little insist on questions of priority, that, as professor howes tells me, there are at south kensington among the mass of unpublished drawings from dissections made by him, many which show that he had arrived at discoveries which afterwards brought credit to other investigators. he was as ready to disclaim for himself any merits which really belonged to his predecessors, whether philosophical or scientific. he was too well read in their works not to be aware of the debt owed them by his own generation, and he reminded the world how little the scientific insight of goethe, for instance, or the solid labours of buffon or reaumur or lamarck, deserved oblivion. the only point on which he did claim recognition was the honesty of his motives. he was incapable of doing anything underhand, and he could not bear even the appearance of such conduct towards his friends, or those with whom he had business relations. in such cases he always took the bull by the horns, acknowledged an oversight or explained what was capable of misunderstanding. the choice between edward forbes and hooker for the royal society's medal, or the explanations to mr. spencer for not joining a social reform league of which the latter was a prominent member, will serve as instances.] the most considerable difference i note among men [he wrote], is not in their readiness to fall into error, but in their readiness to acknowledge these inevitable lapses. [for himself, he let no personal feelings stand in the way when fact negatived his theories: once convinced that they were untenable, he gave up bathybius and the european origin of the horse without hesitation. the regard in which he was held by his friends was such that he was sometimes appealed to by both parties in a dispute. he was a man to be trusted with the confidence of his friends.] "yes, you are quite right about 'loyal,'" [he writes to mr. knowles], "i love my friends and hate my enemies--which may not be in accordance with the gospel, but i have found it a good wearing creed for honest men." [but he only regarded as "enemies" those whom he found to be double-dealers, shufflers, insincere, untrustworthy; a fair opponent he respected, and he could agree to differ with a friend without altering his friendship. a lifelong impression of him was thus summed up by dr. a.r. wallace:-- i find that he was my junior by two years, yet he has always seemed to me to be the older, mainly no doubt, because from the very first time i saw him (now more than forty years ago), i recognised his vast superiority in ability, in knowledge, and in all those qualities that enable a man to take a foremost place in the world. i owe him thanks for much kindness and for assistance always cordially given, and although we had many differences of opinion, i never received from him a harsh or unkind word. to those who could only judge him from his controversial literature, or from a formal business meeting, he often appeared hard and unsympathetic, but never to those who saw beneath the surface. in personal intercourse, if he disliked a man--and a strong individuality has strong likes and dislikes--he would merely veil his feelings under a superabundant politeness of the chilliest kind; but to any one admitted to his friendship he was sympathy itself. and thus, although i have heard him say that his friends, in the fullest sense of the word, could be reckoned on the fingers of one hand, the impression he made upon all who came within the circle of his friendship was such that quite a number felt themselves to possess his intimacy, and one wrote, after his death: "his many private friends are almost tempted to forget the public loss, in thinking of the qualities which so endeared him to them all." both the speculative and the practical sides of his intellect were strongly developed. on the one hand, he had an intense love of knowledge, the desire to attain true knowledge of facts, and to organise them in their true relations. his contributions to pure science never fail to illustrate both these tendencies. his earlier researches brought to light new facts in animal life, and new ideas as to the affinities of the creatures he studied; his later investigations were coloured by darwin's views, and in return contributed no little direct evidence in favour of evolution. but while the progress of the evolution theory in england owed more to his clear and unwearied exposition than to any other cause, while from the first he had indicated the points, such as the causes of sterility and variation, which must be cleared up by further investigation in order to complete the darwinian theory, he did not add another to the many speculations since put forward. on the other hand, intense as was his love of pure knowledge, it was balanced by his unceasing desire to apply that knowledge in the guidance of life. always feeling that science was not solely for the men of science, but for the people, his constant object was to help the struggling world to ideas which should help them to think truly and so to live rightly. it is still true, he declared, that the people perish for want of knowledge. "if i am to be remembered at all," he writes (see volume ), "i should like to be remembered as one who did his best to help the people." and again, he says in his autobiographical sketch, that other marks of success were as nothing if he could hope that he "had somewhat helped that movement of opinion which has been called the new reformation." this kind of aim in his work, of taking up the most fruitful idea of his time and bringing it home to all, is typified by his remark as he entered new york harbour on his visit to america in , and watched the tugs hard at work as they traversed the bay.] "if i were not a man," [he said], "i think i should like to be a tug." [two incidents may be cited to show that he did not entirely fail of appreciation among those whom he tried to help. speaking of the year , professor mivart writes ("reminiscences of t.h. huxley," "nineteenth century", december .) i recollect going with him and mr. john westlake, q.c., to a meeting of artisans in the blackfriars road, to whom he gave a friendly address. he felt a strong interest in working-men, and was much beloved by them. on one occasion, having taken a cab home, on his arrival there, when he held out his fare to the cabman, the latter replied, "oh no, professor, i have had too much pleasure and profit from hearing you lecture to take any money from your pocket--proud to have driven you, sir!" the other is from a letter to the "pall mall gazette" of september , , from mr. raymond blaythwayt, on "the uses of sentiment":-- only to-day i had a most striking instance of sentiment come beneath my notice. i was about to enter my house, when a plain, simply-dressed working-man came up to me with a note in his hand, and touching his hat, he said, "i think this is for you, sir," and then he added, "will you give me the envelope, sir, as a great favour?" i looked at it, and seeing it bore the signature of professor huxley, i replied, "certainly i will; but why do you ask for it?" "well," said he, "it's got professor huxley's signature, and it will be something for me to show my mates and keep for my children. he have done me and my like a lot of good; no man more." in practical administration, his judgment of men, his rapid perception of the essential points at issue, his observance of the necessary limits of official forms, combined with the greatest possible elasticity within these limits, made him extremely successful. as professor (writes the late professor jeffery parker), huxley's rule was characterised by what is undoubtedly the best policy for the head of a department. to a new subordinate, "the general," as he was always called, was rather stern and exacting, but when once he was convinced that his man was to be trusted, he practically let him take his own course; never interfered in matters of detail, accepted suggestions with the greatest courtesy and good humour, and was always ready with a kindly and humorous word of encouragement in times of difficulty. i was once grumbling to him about how hard it was to carry on the work of the laboratory through a long series of november fogs, "when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared."] "never mind, parker," [he said, instantly capping my quotation], "cast four anchors out of the stern and wish for day." [nothing, indeed, better illustrates this willingness to listen to suggested improvements than the inversion of the order of studies in the biological course which he inaugurated in , namely, the substitution of the anatomy of a vertebrate for the microscopic examination of a unicellular organism as the opening study. this was entirely parker's doing. "as one privileged at the time to play a minor part," writes professor howes ("nature" january , page ), "i well recall the determination in parker's mind that the change was desirable, and in huxley's, that it was not. again and again did parker appeal in vain, until at last, on the morning of october , , he triumphed." on his students he made a deep and lasting impression. his lectures (writes jeffery parker) were like his writings, luminously clear, without the faintest disposition to descend to the level of his audience; eloquent, but with no trace of the empty rhetoric which so often does duty for that quality; full of a high seriousness, but with no suspicion of pedantry; lightened by an occasional epigram or flashes of caustic humour, but with none of the small jocularity in which it is such a temptation to a lecturer to indulge. as one listened to him one felt that comparative anatomy was indeed worthy of the devotion of a life, and that to solve a morphological problem was as fine a thing as to win a battle. he was an admirable draughtsman, and his blackboard illustrations were always a great feature of his lectures, especially when, to show the relation of two animal types, he would, by a few rapid strokes and smudges, evolve the one into the other before our eyes. he seemed to have a real affection for some of the specimens illustrating his lectures, and would handle them in a peculiarly loving manner; when he was lecturing on man, for instance, he would sometimes throw his arm over the shoulder of the skeleton beside him and take its hand, as if its silent companionship were an inspiration. to me his lectures before his small class at jermyn street or south kensington were almost more impressive than the discourses at the royal institution, where for an hour and a half he poured forth a stream of dignified, earnest, sincere words in perfect literary form, and without the assistance of a note. another description is from the pen of an old pupil in the autumn of , professor h. fairfield osborn, of columbia college:-- huxley, as a teacher, can never be forgotten by any of his students. he entered the lecture-room promptly as the clock was striking nine (in most years the lectures began at ten.), rather quickly, and with his head bent forward "as if oppressive with its mind." he usually glanced attention to his class of about ninety, and began speaking before he reached his chair. he spoke between his lips, but with perfectly clear analysis, with thorough interest, and with philosophic insight which was far above the average of his students. he used very few charts, but handled the chalk with great skill, sketching out the anatomy of an animal as if it were a transparent object. as in darwin's face, and as in erasmus darwin's or buffon's, and many other anatomists with a strong sense of form, his eyes were heavily overhung by a projecting forehead and eyebrows, and seemed at times to look inward. his lips were firm and closely set, with the expression of positiveness, and the other feature which most marked him was the very heavy mass of hair falling over his forehead, which he would frequently stroke or toss back. occasionally he would light up the monotony of anatomical description by a bit of humour. huxley was the father of modern laboratory instruction; but in he was so intensely engrossed with his own researches that he very seldom came through the laboratory, which was ably directed by t. jeffery parker, assisted by howes and w. newton parker, all of whom are now professors, howes having succeeded to huxley's chair. each visit, therefore, inspired a certain amount of terror, which was really unwarranted, for huxley always spoke in the kindest tones to his students, although sometimes he could not resist making fun at their expense. there was an irish student who sat in front of me, whose anatomical drawings in water-colour were certainly most remarkable productions. huxley, in turning over his drawing-book, paused at a large blur, under which was carefully inscribed, "sheep's liver," and smilingly said], "i am glad to know that is a liver; it reminds me as much of cologne cathedral in a fog as of anything i have ever seen before." [fortunately the nationality of the student enabled him to fully appreciate the humour. the same note is sounded in professor mivart's description of these lectures in his reminiscences:-- the great value of huxley's anatomical ideas, and the admirable clearness with which he explained them, led me in the autumn of to seek admission as a student to his course of lectures at the school of mines in jermyn street. when i entered his small room there to make this request, he was giving the finishing touches to a dissection of part of the nervous system of a skate, worked out for the benefit of his students. he welcomed my application with the greatest cordiality, save that he insisted i should be only an honorary student, or rather, should assist at his lectures as a friend. i availed myself of his permission on the very next day, and subsequently attended almost all his lectures there and elsewhere, so that he one day said to me, "i shall call you my 'constant reader.'" to be such a reader was to me an inestimable privilege, and so i shall ever consider it. i have heard many men lecture, but i never heard any one lecture as did professor huxley. he was my very ideal of a lecturer. distinct in utterance, with an agreeable voice, lucid as it was possible to be in exposition, with admirably chosen language, sufficiently rapid, yet never hurried, often impressive in manner, yet never otherwise than completely natural, and sometimes allowing his audience a glimpse of that rich fund of humour ever ready to well forth when occasion permitted, sometimes accompanied with an extra gleam in his bright dark eyes, sometimes expressed with a dryness and gravity of look which gave it a double zest. i shall never forget the first time i saw him enter his lecture-room. he came in rapidly, yet without bustle, and as the clock struck, a brief glance at his audience and then at once to work. he had the excellent habit of beginning each lecture (save, of course, the first) with a recapitulation of the main points of the preceding one. the course was amply illustrated by excellent coloured diagrams, which, i believe, he had made; but still more valuable were the chalk sketches he would draw on the blackboard with admirable facility, while he was talking, his rapid, dexterous strokes quickly building up an organism in our minds, simultaneously through ear and eye. the lecture over, he was ever ready to answer questions, and i often admired his patience in explaining points which there was no excuse for any one not having understood. still more was i struck with the great pleasure which he showed when he saw that some special points of his teaching had not only been comprehended, but had borne fruit, by their suggestiveness in an appreciative mind. to one point i desire specially to bear witness. there were persons who dreaded sending young men to him, fearing lest their young friends' religious beliefs should be upset by what they might hear said. for years i attended his lectures, but never once did i hear him make use of his position as a teacher to inculcate, or even hint at, his own theological views, or to depreciate or assail what might be supposed to be the religion of his hearers. no one could have behaved more loyally in that respect, and a proof that i thought so is that i subsequently sent my own son to be his pupil at south kensington, where his experience confirmed what had previously been my own. as to science, i learnt more from him in two years than i had acquired in any previous decade of biological study. the picture is completed by professor howes in the "students' magazine" of the royal college of science:-- as a class lecturer huxley was facile princeps, and only those who were privileged to sit under him can form a conception of his delivery. clear, deliberate, never hesitant nor unduly emphatic, never repetitional, always logical, his every word told. great, however, as were his class lectures, his working-men's were greater. huxley was a firm believer in the "distillatio per ascensum" of scientific knowledge and culture, and spared no pains in approaching the artisan and so-called "working classes." he gave the workmen of his best. the substance of his "man's place in nature", one of the most successful and popular of his writings, and of his "crayfish", perhaps the most perfect zoological treatise ever published, was first communicated to them. in one of the last conversations i had with him, i asked his views on the desirability of discontinuing the workmen's lectures at jermyn street, since the development of working-men's colleges and institutes is regarded by some to have rendered their continuance unnecessary. he replied, almost with indignation], "with our central situation and resources, we ought to be in a position to give the workmen that which they cannot get elsewhere," [adding that he would deeply deplore any such discontinuance. and now, a word or two concerning huxley's personal conduct towards his pupils, hearers, and subordinates. as an examiner he was most just, aiming only to ascertain the examinee's knowledge of fundamentals, his powers of work, and the manner in which he had been taught. a country school lad came near the boundary line in the examination; though generally weak, his worst fault was a confusion of the parts of the heart. in his description of that organ he had transposed the valves. on appeal, huxley let him through, observing, most characteristically, "poor little beggar, i never got them correctly myself until i reflected that a bishop was never in the right." (the "mitral" valve being on the left side.) again, a student of more advanced years, of the "mugging" type, who had come off with flying colours in an elementary examination, showed signs of uneasiness as the advanced one approached. "stick an observation into him," said huxley. it was stuck, and acted like a stiletto, a jump into the air and utter collapse being the result. with his hearers huxley was most sympathetic. he always assumed absolute ignorance on their part, and took nothing for granted. (this was a maxim on lecturing, adopted from faraday.) when time permitted, he would remain after a lecture to answer questions; and in connection with his so doing his wonderful power of gauging and rising to a situation, once came out most forcibly. turning to a student, he asked, "well, i hope you understood it all." "all, sir, but one part, during which you stood between me and the blackboard," was the reply: the rejoinder, "i did my best to make myself clear, but could not render myself transparent." quick of comprehension and of action, he would stand no nonsense. the would-be teacher who, wholly unfitted by nature for educational work, was momentarily dismissed, realised this, let us hope to his advantage. and the man suspected of taking notes of huxley's lectures for publication unauthorised, probably learned the lesson of his life, on being reminded that, in the first place, a lecture was the property of the person who delivered it, and, in the second, he was not the first person who had mistaken aspiration for inspiration. though candid, huxley was never unkind... huxley never forgot a kindly action, never forsook a friend, nor allowed a labour to go unrewarded. in testimony to his sympathy to those about him and his self-sacrifice for the cause of science, it may be stated that in the old days, when the professors took the fees and disbursed the working expenses of the laboratories, he, doing this at a loss, would refund the fees of students whose position, from friendship or special circumstances, was exceptional. as for his lectures and addresses to the public, they used to be thronged by crowds of attentive listeners. huxley's public addresses (writes professor osborn) always gave me the impression of being largely impromptu; but he once told me: "i always think out carefully every word i am going to say. there is no greater danger than the so-called inspiration of the moment, which leads you to say something which is not exactly true, or which you would regret afterwards." mr. g.w. smalley has also left a striking description of him as a lecturer in the seventies and early eighties. i used always to admire the simple and business-like way in which huxley made his entry on great occasions. he hated anything like display, and would have none of it. at the royal institution, more than almost anywhere else, the lecturer, on whom the concentric circles of spectators in their steep amphitheatre look down, focuses the gaze. huxley never seemed aware that anybody was looking at him. from self-consciousness he was, here as elsewhere, singularly free, as from self-assertion. he walked in through the door on the left, as if he were entering his own laboratory. in these days he bore scarcely a mark of age. he was in the full vigour of manhood and looked the man he was. faultlessly dressed--the rule in the royal institution is evening costume--with a firm step and easy bearing, he took his place apparently without a thought of the people who were cheering him. to him it was an anniversary. he looked, and he probably was, the master. surrounded as he was by the celebrities of science and the ornaments of london drawing-rooms, there was none who had quite the same kind of intellectual ascendancy which belonged to him. the square forehead, the square jaw, the tense lines of the mouth, the deep flashing dark eyes, the impression of something more than strength he gave you, an impression of sincerity, of solid force, of immovability, yet with the gentleness arising from the serene consciousness of his strength--all this belonged to huxley and to him alone. the first glance magnetised his audience. the eyes were those of one accustomed to command, of one having authority, and not fearing on occasion to use it. the hair swept carelessly away from the broad forehead and grew rather long behind, yet the length did not suggest, as it often does, effeminacy. he was masculine in everything--look, gesture, speech. sparing of gesture, sparing of emphasis, careless of mere rhetorical or oratorical art, he had nevertheless the secret of the highest art of all, whether in oratory or whatever else--he had simplicity. the force was in the thought and the diction, and he needed no other. the voice was rather deep, low, but quite audible, at times sonorous, and always full. he used the chest-notes. his manner here, in the presence of this select and rather limited audience--for the theatre of the royal institution holds, i think, less than a thousand people--was exactly the same as before a great company whom he addressed at [liverpool], as president of the british association for the advancement of science. i remember going late to that, and having to sit far back, yet hearing every word easily; and there too the feeling was the same, that he had mastered his audience, taken possession of them, and held them to the end in an unrelaxing grip, as a great actor at his best does. there was nothing of the actor about him, except that he knew how to stand still, but masterful he ever was. up to the time of his last illness, he regularly breakfasted at eight, and avoided, as far as possible, going out to that meal, a "detestable habit" as he called it, which put him off for the whole day. he left the house about nine, and from that time till midnight at earliest was incessantly busy. his regular lectures involved an immensity of labour, for he would never make a statement in them which he had not personally verified by experiment. in the jermyn street days he habitually made preparations to illustrate the points on which he was lecturing, for his students had no laboratory in which to work out the things for themselves. his lectures to working-men also involved as much careful preparation as the more conspicuous discourses at the royal institution. this thoroughness of preparation had no less effect on the teacher than on the taught. he writes to an old pupil:--] it is pleasant when the "bread cast upon the water" returns after many days; and if the crumbs given in my lectures have had anything to do with the success on which i congratulate you, i am very glad. i used to say of my own lectures that if nobody else learned anything from them, i did; because i always took a great deal of pains over them. but it is none the less satisfactory to find that there were other learners. [as for the ordinary course of a day's work, the more fitful energy and useless mornings of the earliest period in london were soon left behind. he was never one of those portentously early risers who do a fair day's work before other people are up; there was only one period, about , when he had to be specially careful of his health, and, under sir andrew clark's regime, took riding exercise for an hour each day before starting for south kensington, that he records the fact of doing any work before breakfast, and that was letter-writing. much of the day during the session, and still more when his lectures were over, would thus be spent in original research, or in the examination and description of fossils in his official duty as paleontologist to the survey. as often as not, there would be a sitting of some royal commission to attend; committees of some learned society; meetings or dinners in the evening; if not, there would be an article to write or proofs to correct. indeed, the greater part of the work by which the world knows him best was done after dinner, and after a long day's work in the lecture-room and laboratory. he possessed a wonderful faculty for tearing out the heart of a book, reading it through at a gallop, but knowing what it said on all the points that interested him. of verbal memory he had very little; in spite of all his reading i do not believe he knew half a dozen consecutive lines of poetry by heart. what he did know was the substance of what an author had written; how it fitted into his own scheme of knowledge; and where to find any point again when he wished to cite it. in his biological studies his immense knowledge was firmly fixed in his mind by practical investigation; as is said above, he would take at second hand nothing for which he vouched in his teaching, and was always ready to repeat for himself the experiments of others, which determined questions of interest to him. the citations, analyses, maps, with which he frequently accompanied his reading, were all part of the same method of acquiring facts and setting them in order within his mind. so careful, indeed, was he in giving nothing at second hand, that one of his scientific friends reproached him with wasting his time upon unnecessary scientific work, to which competent investigators had already given the stamp of their authority. "poor--," was his comment afterwards, "if that is his own practice, his work will never live." on the literary side, he was omnivorous--consuming everything, as mr. spencer put it, from fairy tales to the last volume on metaphysics. unlike darwin, to whom scientific research was at length the only thing engrossing enough to make him oblivious of his never-ending ill-health, to the gradual exclusion of other interests, literary and artistic, huxley never lost his delight in literature or in art. he had a keen eye for a picture or a piece of sculpture, for, in addition to the draughtsman's and anatomist's sense of form, he had a strong sense of colour. to good music he was always susceptible. (to one breaking in upon him at certain afternoon hours in his room at south kensington, "a whiff of the pipe" (writes professor howes), "and a snatch of some choice melody or a bach's fugue, were the not infrequent welcome.") he played no instrument; as a young man, however, he used to sing a little, but his voice, though true, was never strong. but he had small leisure to devote to art. on his holidays he would sometimes sketch with a firm and rapid touch. his illustrations to the "cruise of the rattlesnake" show what his untrained capacities were. but to go to a concert or opera was rare after middle life; to go to the theatre rarer still, much as he appreciated a good play. his time was too deeply mortgaged; and in later life, the deafness which grew upon him added a new difficulty. in poetry he was sensitive both to matter and form. one school of modern poetry he dismissed as "sensuous caterwauling": a busy man, time and patience failed him to wade through the trivial discursiveness of so much of wordsworth's verse; thus unfortunately he never realised the full value of a poet in whom the mass of ore bears so large a proportion to the pure metal. shelley was too diffuse to be among his first favourites; but for simple beauty, keats; for that, and for the comprehension of the meaning of modern science, tennyson; for strength and feeling, browning as represented by his earlier poems--these were the favourites among the moderns. he knew his eighteenth-century classics, but knew better his milton and his shakespeare, to whom he turned with ever-increasing satisfaction, as men do who have lived a full life. his early acquaintance with german had given him a lasting admiration of the greatest representatives of german literature, goethe above all, in whose writings he found a moral grandeur to be ranked with that of the hebrew prophets. eager to read dante in the original, he spent much of his leisure on board the "rattlesnake" in making out the italian with the aid of a dictionary, and in this way came to know the beauties of the "divina commedia". on the other hand, it was a scientific interest which led him in later life to take up his greek, though one use he put it to was to read homer in the original. though he was a great novel-reader, and, as he grew older, would always have a novel ready to take up for a while in the evening, his chief reading, in german and french as well as english, was philosophy and history. his recreations were, as a rule, literary, and consisted in a change of mental occupation. the only times i can remember his playing an outdoor game are in the late sixties, when he started his elder children at cricket on the common at littlehampton, and in when he played golf at st. andrews. when first married, he promised his wife to reserve saturday afternoons for recreation, and constantly went with her to the ella concerts. about she urged him to take exercise by joining mr. herbert spencer at racquets; but the pressure of work before long absorbed all his time. in his youth he was extremely fond of chess, and played eagerly with his fellow-students at charing cross hospital or with his messmates on board the "rattlesnake". but after he taught me the game, somewhere about or , i do not think he ever found time for it again. his principal exercise was walking during the holidays. in his earlier days especially, when overwrought by the stress of his life in london, he used to go off with a friend for a week's walking tour in wales or the lakes, in brittany or the eifel country, or in summer for a longer trip to switzerland. in this way he "burnt up the waste products," as he would say, of his town life, and came back fresh for a new spell of unintermittent work. but on the whole, the amount of exercise he took was insufficient for his bodily needs. even the riding prescribed for him when he first broke down, became irksome, and was not continued very long, although his bodily machine was such as could only be kept in perfect working order by more exercise than he would give. his physique was not adapted to burn up the waste without special stimulus. i remember once, as he and i were walking up beachy head, we passed a man with a splendid big chest. "ah," said my father regretfully, "if i had only had a chest like that, what a lot of work i could have done." when, in , he built his new house in marlborough place, my father bargained for two points; one, that each member of the family should have a corner of his or her own, where, as he used to say, it would be possible to "consume their own smoke"; the other, that the common living-rooms should be of ample size. thus from onwards he was enabled to see something of his many friends who would come as far as st. john's wood on a sunday evening. no formal invitation for a special day was needed. the guests came, before supper or after, sometimes more, sometimes fewer, as on any ordinary at-home day. there was a simple informal meal at . or o'clock, which called itself by no more dignified name than high tea--was, in fact, a cold supper with varying possibilities in the direction of dinner or tea. it was a chance medley of old and young--friends of the parents and friends of the children, but all ultimately centring round the host himself, whose end of the table never flagged for conversation, grave or gay. afterwards talk would go on in the drawing-room, or, on warm summer evenings, in the garden--nothing very extensive, but boasting a lawn with an old apple-tree at the further end, and in the borders such flowers and trees as endure london air. later on, there was almost sure to be some music, to which my father himself was devoted. his daughters sang; a musical friend would be there; mr. herbert spencer, a frequent visitor, was an authority on music. once only do i recollect any other form of entertainment, and that was an occasion when sir henry irving, then not long established at the lyceum, was present and recited "eugene aram" with great effect. in his "london letters" mr. g.w. smalley has recorded his impressions of these evenings (another interesting account from the same pen is to be found in the article "mr. huxley," scribner's magazine, october .), at which he was often present:-- there used to be sunday evening dinners and parties in marlborough place, to which people from many other worlds than those of abstract science were bidden; where talk was to be heard of a kind rare in any world. it was scientific at times, but subdued to the necessities of the occasion; speculative, yet kept within such bounds that bishop or archbishop might have listened without offence; political even, and still not commonplace; literary without pretence, and when artistic, free from affectation. there and elsewhere mr. huxley easily took the lead if he cared to, or if challenged. nobody was more ready in a greater variety of topics, and if they were scientific it was almost always another who introduced them. unlike some of his comrades of the royal society, he was of opinion that man does not live by science alone, and nothing came amiss to him. all his life long he has been in the front of the battle that has raged between science and--not religion, but theology in its more dogmatic form. even in private the alarm of war is sometimes heard, and mr. huxley is not a whit less formidable as a disputant across the table than with pen in hand. yet an angry man must be very angry indeed before he could be angry with this adversary. he disarmed his enemies with an amiable grace that made defeat endurable if not entirely delightful. as for his method of handling scientific subjects in conversation:-- he has the same quality, the same luminous style of exposition, with which his printed books have made all readers in america and england familiar. yet it has more than that. you cannot listen to him without thinking more of the speaker than of his science, more of the solid beautiful nature than of the intellectual gifts, more of his manly simplicity and sincerity than of all his knowledge and his long services. but his personality left the deepest impression, perhaps, upon those who studied under him and worked with him longest, before taking their place elsewhere in the front ranks of biological science. with him (professor a. hubrecht (of utrecht university.) writes), we his younger disciples, always felt that in acute criticism and vast learning nobody surpassed him, but still what we yet more admired than his learning was his wisdom. it was always a delight to read any new article or essay from his pen, but it was an ever so much higher delight to hear him talk for five minutes. his was the most beautiful and the most manly intellect i ever knew of. so, too, professor e. ray lankester:-- there has been no man or woman whom i have met on my journey through life, whom i have loved and regarded as i have him, and i feel that the world has shrunk and become a poor thing, now that his splendid spirit and delightful presence are gone from it. ever since i was a little boy he has been my ideal and hero. while the late jeffery parker concludes his recollections with these words:-- whether a professor is usually a hero to his demonstrator i cannot say; i only know that, looking back across an interval of many years and a distance of half the circumference of the globe, i have never ceased to be impressed with the manliness and sincerity of his character, his complete honesty of purpose, his high moral standard, his scorn of everything mean or shifty, his firm determination to speak what he held to be truth at whatever cost of popularity. and for these things "i loved the man, and do honour to his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any." even those who scarcely knew him apart from his books, underwent the influence of that "determination to speak what he held to be truth." i may perhaps be allowed to quote in illustration two passages from letters to myself--one written by a woman, the other by a man:-- "'the surest-footed guide' is exactly true, to my feeling. everybody else, among the great, used to disappoint one somewhere. he--never!" "he was so splendidly brave that one can never repay one's debt to him for his example. he made all pretence about religious belief, and the kind of half-thinking things out, and putting up in a slovenly way with half-formed conclusions, seem the base thing which it really is." chapter . . . [i have often regretted that i did not regularly take notes of my father's conversation, which was striking, not so much for the manner of it--though that was at once copious and crisp,--as for the strength and substance of what he said. yet the striking fact, the bit of philosophy, the closely knitted argument, were perfectly unstudied, and as in other most interesting talkers, dropped into the flow of conversation as naturally as would the more ordinary experiences of less richly stored minds. however, in january i was staying at eastbourne, and jotted down several fragments of talk as nearly as i could recollect them. conversation not immediately noted down i hardly dare venture upon, save perhaps such an unforgettable phrase as this, which i remember his using one day as we walked on the hills near great hampden]:--"it is one of the most saddening things in life that, try as we may, we can never be certain of making people happy, whereas we can almost always be certain of making them unhappy." [january . at lunch he spoke of dr. louis robinson's experiments upon simian characteristics in new-born children. he himself had called attention before to the incurved feet of infants, but the power of hanging by the hands was a new and important discovery. (professor h.f. osborn tells this story of his:--"when a fond mother calls upon me to admire her baby, i never fail to respond; and while cooing appropriately, i take advantage of an opportunity to gently ascertain whether the soles of its feet turn in, and tend to support my theory of arboreal descent.") he expressed his disgust with a certain member of the psychical research society for his attitude towards spiritualism]: "he doesn't believe in it, yet lends it the cover of his name. he is one of the people who talk of the 'possibility' of the thing, who think the difficulties of disproving a thing as good as direct evidence in its favour." [he thought it hard to be attacked for] "the contempt of the man of science" [when he was dragged into debate by mr. andrew lang's "cock lane and common sense", he saying in a very polite letter}: "i am content to leave mr. lang the cock lane ghost if i may keep common sense." "after all," [he added], "when a man has been through life and made his judgments, he must have come to a decision that there are some subjects it is not worth while going into." january . i referred to an article in the last "nineteenth century", and he said]:--"as soon as i saw it, i wrote, 'knowles, my friend, you don't draw me this time. if a man goes on attributing statements to me which i have shown over and over again--giving chapter and verse--to be the contrary of what i did say, it is no good saying any more.'" [but would not this course of silence leave the mass of the british public believing the statements of the writer?] "the mass of the public will believe in ten years precisely the opposite of what they believe now. if a man is not a fool, it does him no harm to be believed one. if he really is a fool, it does matter. there never was book so derided and scoffed at as my first book, "man's place in nature", but it was true, and i don't know i was any the worse for the ridicule. "people call me fond of controversy, but, as a fact, for the last twenty years at all events, i have never entered upon a controversy without some further purpose in view. as to gladstone and his "impregnable rock", it wasn't worth attacking them for themselves; but it was most important at that moment to shake him in the minds of sensible men. "the movement of modern philosophy is back towards the position of the old ionian philosophers, but strengthened and clarified by sound scientific ideas. if i publish my criticism on comte, i should have to re-write it as a summary of philosophical ideas from the earliest times. the thread of philosophical development is not on the lines usually laid down for it. it goes from democritus and the rest to the epicureans, and then the stoics, who tried to reconcile it with popular theological ideas, just as was done by the christian fathers. in the middle ages it was entirely lost under the theological theories of the time; but reappeared with spinoza, who, however, muddled it up with a lot of metaphysics which made him almost unintelligible. "plato was the founder of all the vague and unsound thinking that has burdened philosophy, deserting facts for possibilities, and then, after long and beautiful stories of what might be, telling you he doesn't quite believe them himself. "a certain time since it was heresy to breathe a word against plato; but i have a nice story of sir henry holland. he used to have all the rising young men to breakfast, and turn out their latest ideas. one morning i went to breakfast with him, and we got into very intimate conversation, when he wound up by saying, 'in my opinion, plato was an ass! but don't tell any one i said so.'" we talked on geographical teaching; he began by insisting on the need of a map of the earth (on the true scale) showing the insignificance of all elevations and depressions on the surface. secondly, one should take any place as centre, and draw about it circles of or miles radius, and see what lies within them; and note the extent of the influence exerted by the central point. at the same time, one should always compare the british isles to scale. for instance, the aegean is about as big as britain; while the smallness of judaea is remarkable. after the exile, the jewish part was about as big as the county of gloucester. how few boys realise this, though they are taught classical geography. "the real chosen people were the greeks. one of the most remarkable things about them is not only the smallness, but the late rise of attica, whereas magna graecia flourished in the eighth century. the greeks were doing everything--piracy, trade, fighting, expelling the persians. never was there so large a number of self-governing communities. "they fell short of the jews in morality. how curious is the tolerant attitude of socrates, like a modern man of the world talking to a young fellow who runs after the girls. the jew, however he fell short in other respects, set himself a certain standard in cleanliness of life, and would not fall below it. the more creditable to him, because these vices were the offspring of the semitic races among whom the jew lived. "there is a curious similarity between the position of the jew in ancient times and what it is now. they were procurers and usurers among the gentiles, yet many of them were singularly high-minded and pure. all too with an intense clannishness, the secret of their success, and a sense of superiority to the gentile which would prevent the meanest jew from sitting at table with a proconsul. "the most remarkable achievement of the jew was to impose on europe for eighteen centuries his own superstitions--his ideas of the supernatural. jahveh was no more than zeus or milcom; yet the jew got established the belief in the inspiration of his bible and his law. if i were a jew, i should have the same contempt as he has for the christian who acted in this way towards me, who took my ideas and scorned me for clinging to them." [january . yesterday evening he again declared that it was very hard for a man of peace like himself to have been dragged into so many controversies.] "i declare that for the last twenty years i have never attacked, but always fought in self-defence, counting darwin, of course, as part of myself, for dear darwin never could nor would defend himself. before that, i admit i attacked --, but i could not trust the man." [a pause.] "no, there was one other case, when i attacked without being directly assailed, and that was gladstone. but it was good for other reasons. it has always astonished me how a man after fifty or sixty years of life among men could be so ignorant of the best way to handle his materials. if he had only read dana, he would have found his case much better stated than ever he stated it. he seemed never to have read the leading authorities on his own side." [speaking of the hesitation shown by the senate of london university in grappling with a threatened obstacle to reform, he remarked]: "it is very strange how most men will do anything to evade responsibility." [january . at dinner the talk turned on plays. mr. h.a. jones had sent him "judah", which he thought good, though] "there must be some hostility--except in the very greatest writers--between the dramatic and the literary faculties. i noticed many points i objected to, but felt sure they met with applause. indeed in the theatre i have noticed that what i thought the worst blots on a piece invariably brought down the house." [he remarked how the french, in dramatic just as in artistic matters, are so much better than the english in composition, in avoiding anything slipshod in the details, though the english artists draw just as well and colour perhaps better. the following sketch of human character is not actually a fragment of conversation, though it might almost pass for such; it comes from a letter to mrs. w.k. clifford, of february , :--] men, my dear, are very queer animals, a mixture of horse-nervousness, ass-stubbornness and camel-malice--with an angel bobbing about unexpectedly like the apple in the posset, and when they can do exactly as they please, they are very hard to drive. [whatever he talked of, his talk never failed to impress those who conversed with him. one or two such impressions have been recorded. mr. wilfrid ward, whose interests lie chiefly in philosophy and theology, was his neighbour at eastbourne, and in the "nineteenth century" for august has given various reminiscences of their friendly intercourse. his conversation (he writes) was singularly finished, and (if i may so express it) clean cut; never long-winded or prosy; enlivened by vivid illustrations. he was an excellent raconteur, and his stories had a stamp of their own which would have made them always and everywhere acceptable. his sense of humour and economy of words would have made it impossible, had he lived to ninety, that they should ever have been disparaged as symptoms of what has been called "anecdotage." one drawback to conversation, however, he began to complain of during the later seventies.] it is a great misfortune [he remarked to professor osborn] to be deaf in only one ear. every time i dine out the lady sitting by my good ear thinks i am charming, but i make a mortal enemy of the lady on my deaf side. [in ordinary conversation he never plunged at once into deep subjects. his welcome to the newcomer was always of the simplest and most unstudied. he had no mannerisms nor affectation of phrase. he would begin at once to talk on everyday topics; an intimate friend he would perhaps rally upon some standing subject of persiflage. but the subsequent course of conversation adapted itself to his company. deeper subjects were reached soon enough by those who cared for them; with others he was quite happy to talk of politics or people or his garden, yet, whatever he touched, never failing to infuse into it an unexpected interest. in this connection, a typical story was told me by a great friend of mine, whom we had come to know through his marriage with an early friend of the family. "going to call at hodeslea," he said, "i was in some trepidation, because i didn't know anything about science or philosophy; but when your mother began to talk over old times with my wife, your father came across the room and sat down by me, and began to talk about the dog which we had brought with us. from that he got on to the different races of dogs and their origin and connections, all quite simply, and not as though to give information, but just to talk about something which obviously interested me. i shall never forget how extraordinarily kind it was of your father to take all this trouble in entertaining a complete stranger, and choosing a subject which put me at my ease at once, while he told me all manner of new and interesting things." a few more fragments of his conversation have been preserved--the following by mr. wilfrid ward. speaking of tennyson's conversation, he said:-- doric beauty is its characteristic--perfect simplicity, without any ornament or anything artificial. telling how he had been to a meeting of the british museum trustees, he said:--] after the meeting, archbishop benson helped me on with my great-coat. i was quite overcome by this species of spiritual investiture. "thank you, archbishop," i said, "i feel as if i were receiving the pallium." [speaking of two men of letters, with neither of whom he sympathised, he once said:--] don't mistake me. one is a thinker and man of letters, the other is only a literary man. erasmus was a man of letters, gigadibs a literary man. a.b. is the incarnation of gigadibs. i should call him gigadibsius optimus maximus. [another time, referring to dean stanley's historical impressionability, as militating against his sympathies with colenso, he said:--] stanley could believe in anything of which he had seen the supposed site, but was sceptical where he had not seen. at a breakfast at monckton milnes's, just at the time of the colenso row, milnes asked me my views on the pentateuch, and i gave them. stanley differed from me. the account of creation in genesis he dismissed at once as unhistorical; but the call of abraham, and the historical narrative of the pentateuch, he accepted. this was because he had seen palestine--but he wasn't present at the creation. [when he and stanley met, there was sure to be a brisk interchange of repartee. one of these occasions, a ballot day at the athenaeum, has been recorded by the late sir w.h. flower:-- a well-known popular preacher of the scotch presbyterian church, who had made himself famous by predictions of the speedy coming of the end of the world, was up for election. i was standing by huxley when the dean, coming straight from the ballot boxes, turned towards us.] "well," [said huxley], "have you been voting for c.?" ["yes, indeed i have," replied the dean.] "oh, i thought the priests were always opposed to the prophets," [said huxley.] "ah!" replied the dean, with that well-known twinkle in his eye, and the sweetest of smiles, "but you see, i do not believe in his prophecies, and some people say i am not much of a priest." a few words as to his home life may perhaps be fitly introduced here. towards his children he had the same union of underlying tenderness veiled beneath inflexible determination for what was right, which marked his intercourse with those outside his family. as children we were fully conscious of this side of his character. we felt our little hypocrisies shrivel up before him; we felt a confidence in the infallible rectitude of his moral judgments which inspired a kind of awe. his arbitrament was instant and final, though rarely invoked, and was perhaps the more tremendous in proportion to its rarity. this aspect, as if of an oracle without appeal, was heightened in our minds by the fact that we saw but little of him. this was one of the penalties of his hard-driven existence. in the struggle to keep his head above water for the first fifteen or twenty years of his married life, he had scarcely any time to devote to his children. the "lodger," as he used to call himself at one time, who went out early and came back late, could sometimes spare half an hour just before or after dinner to draw wonderful pictures for the little ones, and these were memorable occasions. i remember that he used to profess a horror of being too closely watched, or of receiving suggestions, while he drew. "take care, take care," he would exclaim, "or i don't know what it will turn into." when i was seven years old i had the misfortune to be laid up with scarlet fever, and then his gift of drawing was a great solace to me. the solitary days--for i was the first victim in the family--were very long, and i looked forward with intense interest to one half-hour after dinner, when he would come up and draw scenes from the history of a remarkable bull-terrier and his family that went to the seaside, in a most human and child-delighting manner. i have seldom suffered a greater disappointment than when, one evening, i fell asleep just before this fairy half-hour, and lost it out of my life. in those days he often used to take the three eldest of us out for a walk on sunday afternoons, sometimes to the zoological gardens, more often to the lanes and fields between st. john's wood and hampstead or west end. for then the flood of bricks and mortar ceased on the finchley road just beyond the swiss cottage, and the west end lane, winding solitary between its high hedges and rural ditches, was quite like a country road in holiday time, and was sometimes gladdened in june with real dog-roses, although the church and a few houses had already begun to encroach on the open fields at the end of the abbey road. my father often used to delight us with sea stories and tales of animals, and occasionally with geological sketches suggested by the gravels of hampstead heath. but regular "shop" he would not talk to us, contrary to the expectation of people who have often asked me whether we did not receive quite a scientific training from his companionship. at the christmas dinner he invariably delighted the children by carving wonderful beasts, generally pigs, out of orange peel. when the marriage of his eldest daughter had taken her away from this important function, she was sent the best specimen as a reminder.] marlborough place, december , . dearest jess, we have just finished the mid-day christmas dinner, at which function you were badly wanted. the inflammation of the pudding was highly successful--in fact vesuvian not to say aetnaic--and i have never yet attained so high a pitch in piggygenesis as on this occasion. the specimen i enclose, wrapped in a golden cerecloth, and with the remains of his last dinner in the proper region, will prove to you the heights to which the creative power of the true artist may soar. i call it a "piggurne, or a harmony in orange and white." preserve it, my dear child, as evidence of the paternal genius, when those light and fugitive productions which are buried in the philosophical transactions and elsewhere are forgotten. my best wishes to fred and you, and may you succeed better than i do in keeping warm. ever your loving father, t.h. huxley. [later on, however, the younger children who kept up the home at marlborough place after the elder ones had married or gone out into the world, enjoyed more opportunities of his ever-mellowing companionship. strongly as he upheld the conventions when these represented some valid results of social experience, he was always ready to set aside his mere likes and dislikes on good cause shown; to follow reason as against the mere prejudice of custom, even his own. severe he might be on occasion, but never harsh. his idea in bringing up his children was to accustom them as early as possible to a certain amount of independence, at the same time trying to make them regard him as their best friend. this aspect of his character is specially touched upon by sir leslie stephen, in a letter written to my mother in july :-- no one, i think, could have more cordially admired huxley's intellectual vigour and unflinching honesty than i. it pleases me to remember that i lately said something of this to him, and that he received what i said most heartily and kindly. but what now dwells most in my mind is the memory of old kindness, and of the days when i used to see him with you and his children. i may safely say that i never came from your house without thinking how good he is; what a tender and affectionate nature the man has! it did me good simply to see him. the recollection is sweet to me now, and i rejoice to think how infinitely better you know what i must have been dull indeed not more or less to perceive. as he wrote to his son on his twenty-first birthday:--] you will have a son some day yourself, i suppose, and if you do, i can wish you no greater satisfaction than to be able to say that he has reached manhood without having given you a serious anxiety, and that you can look forward with entire confidence to his playing the man in the battle of life. i have tried to make you feel your responsibilities and act independently as early as possible--but, once for all, remember that i am not only your father but your nearest friend, ready to help you in all things reasonable, and perhaps in a few unreasonable. [this domestic happiness which struck others so forcibly was one of the vital realities of his existence. without it his quick spirit and nervous temperament could never have endured the long and often embittered struggle--not merely with equanimity, but with a constant growth of sympathy for earnest humanity, which, in early days obscured from view by the turmoil of strife, at length became apparent to all as the tide of battle subsided. none realised more than himself what the sustaining help and comradeship of married life had wrought for him, alike in making his life worth living and in making his life's work possible. here he found the pivot of his happiness and his strength; here he recognised to the full the care that took upon itself all possible burdens and left his mind free for his greater work. he had always a great tenderness for children. "one of my earliest recollections of him," writes jeffery parker, "is in connection with a letter he wrote to my father, on the occasion of the death, in infancy, of one of my brothers. 'why,' he wrote, 'did you not tell us before that the child was named after me, that we might have made his short life happier by a toy or two.' i never saw a man more crushed than he was during the dangerous illness of one of his daughters, and he told me that, having then to make an after-dinner speech, he broke down for the first time in his life, and for one painful moment forgot where he was and what he had to say. i can truly say that i never knew a man whose way of speaking of his family, or whose manner in his own home, was fuller of a noble, loving, and withal playful courtesy." after he had retired to eastbourne, his grandchildren reaped the benefit of his greater leisure. in his age his love of children brimmed over with undiminished force, unimpeded by circumstances. he would make endless fun with them, until one little mite, on her first visit, with whom her grandfather was trying to ingratiate himself with a vast deal of nonsense, exclaimed: "well, you are the curioustest old man i ever seen." another, somewhat older, developed a great liking for astronomy under her grandfather's tuition. one day a visitor, entering unexpectedly, was astonished to find the pair of them kneeling on the floor in the hall before a large sheet of paper, on which the professor was drawing a diagram of the solar system on a large scale, with a little pellet and a large ball to represent earth and sun, while the child was listening with the closest attention to an account of the planets and their movements, which he knew so well how to make simple and precise without ever being dull. children seemed to have a natural confidence in the expression of mingled power and sympathy which, especially in his later years, irradiated his "square, wise, swarthy face" ("there never was a face, i do believe" (wrote sir walter besant of the portrait by john collier), "wiser, more kindly, more beautiful for wisdom and the kindliness of it, than this of huxley."--the "queen", november , .), and proclaimed to all the sublimation of a broad native humanity tried by adversity and struggle in the pursuit of noble ends. it was the confidence that an appeal would not be rejected, whether for help in distress, or for the satisfaction of the child's natural desire for knowledge. spirit and determination in children always delighted him. his grandson julian, a curly-haired rogue, alternately cherub and pickle, was a source of great amusement and interest to him. the boy must have been about four years old when my father one day came in from the garden, where he had been diligently watering his favourite plants with a big hose, and said: "i like that chap! i like the way he looks you straight in the face and disobeys you. i told him not to go on the wet grass again. he just looked up boldly, straight at me, as much as to say, 'what do you mean by ordering me about?' and deliberately walked on to the grass." the disobedient youth who so charmed his grandfather's heart was the prototype of sandy in mrs. humphry ward's "david grieve". when the book came out my father wrote to the author: "we are very proud of julian's apotheosis. he is a most delightful imp, and the way in which he used to defy me on occasion, when he was here, was quite refreshing. the strength of his conviction that people who interfere with his freedom are certainly foolish, probably wicked, is quite gladstonian." a year after, when julian had learned to write, and was reading the immortal "water babies", wherein fun is poked at his grandfather's name among the authorities on water-babies and water-beasts of every description, he greatly desired more light as to the reality of water-babies. there is a picture by linley sambourne, showing my father and owen examining a bottled water-baby under big magnifying glasses. here, then, was a real authority to consult. so he wrote a letter of inquiry, first anxiously asking his mother if he would receive in reply a "proper letter" that he could read for himself, or a "wrong kind of letter" that must be read to him. dear grandpater, have you seen a waterbaby? did you put it in a bottle? did it wonder if it could get out? can i see it some day? your loving julian. to this he received the following reply from his grandfather, neatly printed, letter by letter, very unlike the orderly confusion with which his pen usually rushed across the paper--time being so short for such a multitude of writing--to the great perplexity, often, of his foreign correspondents.] hodeslea, staveley road, eastbourne, march . my dear julian i never could make sure about that water baby. i have seen babies in water and babies in bottles; but the baby in the water was not in a bottle and the baby in the bottle was not in water. my friend who wrote the story of the water baby, was a very kind man and very clever. perhaps he thought i could see as much in the water as he did--there are some people who see a great deal and some who see very little in the same things. when you grow up i dare say you will be one of the great-deal seers and see things more wonderful than water babies where other folks can see nothing. give my best love to daddy and mammy and trevenen--grand is a little better but not up yet-- ever your loving grandpater. [others of his family would occasionally receive elaborate pieces of nonsense, of which i give a couple of specimens. the following is to his youngest daughter:--] athenaeum club, may , . dearest babs, as i was going along upper thames street just now, i saw between numbers and ( (primary parenthesis) but you would like to know what i was going along that odorous street for. well, it was to inquire how the pen with which i am now writing--( ( nd parenthesis) you see it is a new-fangled fountain pen, warranted to cure the worst writing and always spell properly) ( nd parenthesis)--works, because it would not work properly this morning. and the nice young woman who took it from me--( ( rd parenthesis) as who should say you old foodle!) ( rd parenthesis) inked her own fingers enormously ( ( th parenthesis) which i told her i was pleased they were her fingers rather than mine) ( th parenthesis)--but she only smole. ( ( th parenthesis) close by was another shop where they sold hose--( ( th or th parenthesis) indiarubber, not knitted)--( (nth parenthesis) and warranted to let water through, not keep it out); and i asked for a garden syringe, thinking such things likely to be kept by hosiers of that sort--and they said they had not any, but found they had a remnant cheap ( (nnth parenthesis) price shillings) which is less than many people pay for the other hosiers' hose) (end of parentheses) a doorpost at the side of the doorway of some place of business with this remarkable notice: ruling girls wanted. don't you think you had better apply at once? jack will give you a character, i am sure, on the side of the art of ruling, and i will speak for the science--also of hereditary (on mother's side) instinct. well i am not sure about the pen yet--but there is no room for any more. ever your loving dad. epistolary composition on the model of a gladstonian speech to a deputation on women's suffrage. [the other is to his daughter, mrs. harold roller, who had sent him from abroad a friend's autograph-book for a signature:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, november , . the epistle of thomas to the woman of the house of harold. . i said it was an autograph-book; and so it was. . and naughty words came to the root of my tongue. . and the recording angel dipped his pen in the ink and squared his elbows to write. . but i spied the hand of the lovely and accomplished but vagabond daughter. . and i smole; and spoke not; nor uttered the naughty words. . so the recording angel was sold; . and was about to suck his pen. . but i said nay! give it to me. . and i took the pen and wrote on the book of the autographs letters pleasant to the eye and easy to read. . such as my printers know not: nor the postman--nor the correspondent, who riseth in his wrath and curseth over my epistle ordinary. [this to his youngest daughter, which, in jesting form, conveys a good deal of sound sense, was the sequel to a discussion as to the advisability of a university education for her own and another boy:--] hodeslea, eastbourne, may , . dearest babs, bickers and son have abased themselves, and assure me that they have fetched the dictionary away and are sending it here. i shall believe them when it arrives. as a rule, i do not turn up when i announce my coming, but i believe i shall be with you about dinnertime on friday next ( th). in the meanwhile, my good daughter, meditate these things: . parents not too rich wish to send exceptionally clever, energetic lad to university--before taking up father's profession of architect. . exceptionally clever, energetic lad will be well taught classics at school--not well taught in other things--will easily get a scholarship either at school or university. so much in parents' pockets. . exceptionally clever, energetic lad will get as much mathematics, mechanics, and other needful preliminaries to architecture, as he wants (and a good deal more if he likes) at oxford. excellent physical school there. . splendid art museums at oxford. . prigs not peculiar to oxford. . don cambridge would choke science (except mathematics) if it could as willingly as don oxford and more so. . oxford always represents english opinion, in all its extremes, better than cambridge. . cambridge better for doctors, oxford for architects, poets, painters, and-all-that-sort-of-cattle (all crossed out). . lawrence will go to oxford and become a real scholar, which is a great thing and a noble. he will combine the new and the old, and show how much better the world would have been if it had stuck to hellenism. you are dreaming of the schoolboy who does not follow up his work, or becomes a mere poll man. good enough for parsons, not for men. lawrence will go to oxford. ever your aggrawatin' pa. [like the old greek sage and statesman, my father might have declared that old age found him ever learning. not indeed with the fiery earnestness of his young days of stress and storm; but with the steady advance of a practised worker who cannot be unoccupied. history and philosophy, especially biblical criticism, composed his chief reading in these later years. fortune had ceased her buffets; broken health was restored; and from his resting-place among his books and his plants he watched keenly the struggle which had now passed into other hands, still ready to strike a blow if need be, or even, on rare occasions, to return to the fighting line, as when he became a leader in the movement for london university reform. his days at eastbourne, then, were full of occupation, if not the occupation of former days. the day began as early; he never relaxed from the rule of an eight o'clock breakfast. then a pipe and an hour and a half of letter-writing or working at an essay. then a short expedition around the garden, to inspect the creepers, tend the saxifrages, or see how the more exposed shrubs could best be sheltered from the shrivelling winds. the gravelled terrace immediately behind the house was called the quarterdeck; it was the place for a brisk patrolling in uncertain weather or in a north wind. in the lower garden was a parallel walk protected from the south by a high double hedge of cypress and golden elder, designed for shelter from the summer sun and southerly winds. then would follow another spell of work till near one o'clock; the weather might tempt him out again before lunch; but afterwards he was certain to be out for an hour or two from half-past two. however hard it blew, and eastbourne is seldom still, the tiled walk along the sea-wall always offered the possibility of a constitutional. but the high expanse of the downs was his favourite walk. the air of beachy head, feet up, was an unfailing tonic. in the summer he used to keep a look-out for the little flowers of the short, close turf of the chalk which could remind him of his alpine favourites, in particular the curious phyteuma; and later on, in the folds of the hills where he had marked them, the english gentians. after his walk, a cup of tea was followed by more reading or writing till seven; after dinner another pipe, and then he would return to my mother in the drawing-room, and settle down in his particular armchair, with some tough volume of history or theology to read, every now and again scoring a passage for future reference, or jotting a brief note on the margin. at ten he would migrate to the study for a final smoke before going to bed. such was his routine, broken by occasional visits to town on business, for he was still dean of the royal college of science and a trustee of the british museum. old friends came occasionally to stay for a few days, and tea-time would often bring one or two of the small circle of friends whom he had made in eastbourne. these also he occasionally visited, but he scarcely ever dined out. the talking was too tiring. the change to eastbourne cut away a whole series of interests, but it imported a new and very strong one into my father's life. his garden was not only a convenient ambulatory, but, with its growing flowers and trees, became a novel and intense pleasure, until he began] "to think with candide that 'cultivons notre jardin' comprises the whole duty of man." [it was strange that this interest should have come suddenly at the end of his life. though he had won the prize in lindley's botanical class, he had never been a field botanist till he was attracted by the swiss gentians. as has been said before, his love of nature had never run to collecting either plants or animals. mere "spider-hunters and hay-naturalists," as a german friend called them, he was inclined to regard as the camp-followers of science. it was the engineering side of nature, the unity of plan of animal construction, worked out in infinitely varying detail, which engrossed him. walking once with hooker in the rhone valley, where the grass was alive with red and green grasshoppers, he said,] "i would give anything to be as interested in them as you are." [but this feeling, unknown to him before, broke out in his gentian work. he told hooker, "i can't express the delight i have in them." it continued undiminished when once he settled in the new house and laid out a garden. his especial love was for the rockery of alpines, many of which came from sir j. hooker. here, then, he threw himself into gardening with characteristic ardour. he described his position as a kind of mean between the science of the botanist and the empiricism of the working gardener. he had plenty to suggest, but his gardener, like so many of his tribe, had a rooted mistrust of any gardening lore culled from books. "books? they'll say anything in them books." and he shared, moreover, that common superstition, perhaps really based upon a question of labour, that watering of flowers, unnecessary in wet weather, is actively bad in dry. so my father's chief occupation in the garden was to march about with a long hose, watering, and watering especially his alpines in the upper garden and along the terraces lying below the house. the saxifrages and the creepers on the house were his favourite plants. when he was not watering the one he would be nailing up the other, for the winds of eastbourne are remarkably boisterous, and shrivel up what they do not blow down.] "i believe i shall take to gardening," [he writes, a few months after entering the new house,] "if i live long enough. i have got so far as to take a lively interest in the condition of my shrubs, which have been awfully treated by the long cold." [from this time his letters contain many references to his garden. he is astonished when his gardener asks leave to exhibit at the local show, but delighted with his pluck. hooker jestingly sends him a plant "which will flourish on any dry, neglected bit of wall, so i think it will just suit you."] great improvements have been going on (he writes in ), and the next time you come you shall walk in the "avenue" of four box-trees. only five are to be had for love or money at present, but there are hopes of a sixth, and then the "avenue" will be full ten yards long! figurez vous ca! [it was of this he wrote on october :--] thank heaven we are settled down again and i can vibrate between my beloved books and even more beloved saxifrages. the additions to the house are great improvements every way, outside and in, and when the conservatory is finished we shall be quite palatial; but, alas, of all my box-trees only one remains green, that is the "amari," or more properly "fusci" aliquid. [sad things will happen, however. although the local florists vowed that the box-trees would not stand the winds of eastbourne, he was set on seeing if he could not get them to grow despite the gardeners, whom he had once or twice found false prophets. but this time they were right. vain were watering and mulching and all the arts of the husbandman. the trees turned browner and browner every day, and the little avenue from terrace to terrace had to be ignominiously uprooted and removed. a sad blow this, worse even than the following:--] a lovely clematis in full flower, which i had spent hours in nailing up, has just died suddenly. i am more inconsolable than jonah! [he answers some gardening chaff of sir michael foster's:--] wait till i cut you out at the horticultural. i have not made up my mind what to compete in yet. look out when i do! [and when the latter offered to propose him for that society, he replied:--] proud an' 'appy should i be to belong to the horticultural if you will see to it. could send specimens of nailing up creepers if qualification is required. [after his long battlings for his early loves of science and liberty of thought, his later love of the tranquil garden seemed in harmony with the dignified rest from struggle. to those who thought of the past and the present, there was something touching in the sight of the old man whose unquenched fires now lent a gentler glow to the peaceful retirement he had at length won for himself. his latter days were fruitful and happy in their unflagging intellectual interests, set off by the new delights of the succidia altera, that second resource of hale old age for many a century. all through his last and prolonged illness, from earliest spring until midsummer, he loved to hear how the garden was getting on, and would ask after certain flowers and plants. when the bitter cold spring was over and the warm weather came, he spent most of the day outside, and even recovered so far as to be able to walk once into the lower garden and visit his favourite flowers. these children of his old age helped to cheer him to the last. *** appendix . as for this unfinished work, suggestive outlines left for others to fill in, professor howes writes to me in october :-- concerning the papers at south kensington, which, as part of the contents of your father's book-shelves, were given by him to the college, and now are arranged, numbered, and registered in order for use, there is evidence that in he, with his needles and eyeglass, had dissected and carefully figured the so-called pronephros of the frog's tadpole, in a manner which as to accuracy of detail anticipated later discovery. again, in the early ' 's, he had observed and recorded in a drawing the prae-pulmonary aortic arch of the amphibian, at a period antedating the researches of boas, which in connection with its discovery placed the whole subject of the morphology of the pulmonary artery of the vertebrata on its final basis, and brought harmony into our ideas concerning it. both these subjects lie at the root of modern advances in vertebrate morphology. concerning the skull, he was in the ' 's back to it with a will. his line of attack was through the lampreys and hags and the higher cartilaginous fishes, and he was following up a revolutionary conception (already hinted at in his hunterian lectures in , and later in a royal society paper on amphioxus in ), that the trabeculae cranii, judged by their relationships to the nerves, may represent a pair of prae-oral visceral arches. in his unpublished notes there is evidence that he was bringing to the support of this conclusion the discovery of a supposed th branch to the trigeminal nerve--the relationships of this (which he proposed to term the "hyporhinal" or palato-nasal division) and the ophthalmic (to have been termed the "orbitonasal" (a term already applied by him in to the corresponding nerve in the batrachia. ("encyclopaedia britannica" th edition, volume article "amphibia."))) to the trabecular arch and a supposed prae-mandibular visceral cleft, being regarded as repetitional of those of the maxillary and mandibular divisions to the mandibular cleft. so far as i am aware, von kupffer is the only observer who has given this startling conclusion support, in his famous "studien" (hf. i. kopf acipenser, munchen, ), and from the nature of other recent work on the genesis of parts of the cranium hitherto thought to be wholly trabecular in origin, it might well be further upheld. as for the discovery of the nerve, i have been lately much interested to find that mr. e. phelps allis, junior, an investigator who has done grand work in cranial morphology, has recently and independently arrived at a similar result. it was while working in my laboratory in july last that he mentioned the fact to me. remembering that your father had published the aforementioned hints on the subject, and recalling conversations i had with him, it occurred to me to look into his unpublished manuscripts (then being sorted), if perchance he had gone further. and, behold! there is a lengthy attempt to write the matter up in full, in which, among other things, he was seeking to show that, on this basis, the mode of termination of the notochord in the craniata, and in the branchiostomidae (in which the trabecular arch is undifferentiated), is readily explained. mr. allis's studies are now progressing, and i have arranged with him that if, in the end, his results come sufficiently close to your father's, he shall give his work due recognition and publicity. (see "the lateral sensory canals, the eye-muscles, and the peripheral distribution of certain of the cranial nerves of mustelus laevis" by edward phelps allis, junior, reprinted from "quarterly journal micr. s." volume part new series.) among his schemes of the early ' 's, there was actually commenced a work on the principles of mammalian anatomy and an elementary treatise on the vertebrata. the former exists in the shape of a number of drawings with very brief notes, the latter to a slight extent only in manuscript. in the former, intended for the medical student and as a means of familiarising him with the anatomical "tree" as distinct from its surgical "leaves," your father once again returned to the skull, and he leaves a scheme for a revised terminology of its nerve exits worthy his best and most clear-headed endeavours of the past. (concerning this he wrote to professor howes in when giving him permission to denote two papers which he was about to present to the zoological society, as the first which emanated from the huxley research laboratory]:--"pray do as you think best about the nomenclature. i remember when i began to work at the skull it seemed a hopeless problem, and years elapsed before i got hold of the clue." [and six weeks later, he writes]:--"you are always welcome to turn anything of mine to account, though i vow i do not just now recollect anything about the terms you mention. if you were to examine me in my own papers, i believe i should be plucked.") [and well do i remember how, in the ' 's, both in the class-room and in conversation, he would emphasise the fact that the hypoglossus nerve roots of the mammal arise serially with the ventral roots of the spinal nerves, little thinking that the discovery by froriep, in , of their dorsal ganglionated counterparts, would establish the actual homology between the two, and by leading to the conclusion that though actual vertebrae do not contribute to the formation of the mammalian skull, its occipital region is of truncal origin, mark the most revolutionary advance in cranial morphology since his own of . much of the final zoological work of his life lay with the bony fishes, and he leaves unfinished (indeed only just commenced) a memoir embodying a new scheme of classification of these, which shows that he was intending to do for them what he did for birds in the most active period of his career. it was my good fortune to have helped as a hodman in the study of these creatures, with a view to a text-book we were to have written conjointly, and as i realise what he was intending to make out of the dry facts, i am filled with grief at the thought of what we must have lost. his classification was based on the labours of years, as testified by a vast accumulation of rough notes and sketches, and as a conspicuous feature of it there stands the embodiment under one head of all those fishes having the swim-bladder in connection with the auditory organ by means of a chain of ossicles--a revolutionary arrangement, which later, in the hands of the late dr. sagemahl, and by his introduction of the famous term--"ostariophyseae," has done more than all else of recent years to clear the ichthyological air. your father had anticipated this unpublished, and in a proposal to unite the herrings and pikes into a single group, the "clupesoces," he had further given promise of a new system, based on the study of the structure of the fins, jaws, and reproductive organs of the bony fishes, the classifications of which are still largely chaotic, which would have been as revolutionary as it was rational. new terms both in taxonomy and anatomy were contemplated, and in part framed. his published terms "elasmo-" and "cysto-arian" are the adjective form of two--far-reaching and significant--which give an idea of what was to have come. similarly, the spinose fin-rays were to have been termed "acanthonemes," the branching and multiarticulate "arthronemes," and those of the more elementary and "adipose fin" type "protonemes": and had he lived to complete the task, i question whether it would not have excelled his earlier achievements. the rabbit was to have been the subject of the first of the aforementioned books, and in the desire to get at the full meaning of problems which arose during its progress, he was led to digress into a general anatomical survey of the rodentia, and in testimony to this there remain five or six books of rough notes bearing dates to , and a series of finished pencil-drawings, which, as works of art and accurate delineations of fact, are among the most finished productions of his hand. in the same manner his contemplated work upon the vertebrata led him during - to renewed investigation of the anatomy of some of the more aberrant orders. especially as concerning the marsupialia and edentata was this the case, and to the end in view he secured living specimens of the vulpine phalanger, and purchased of the zoological society the sloths and ant-eaters which during that period died in their gardens. these he carefully dissected, and he leaves among his papers a series of incomplete notes (fullest as concerning the phalanger and cape anteater [orycteropus] ([i was privileged to assist in the dissection of the latter animal, and well do i remember how, when by means of a blow-pipe he had inflated the bladder, intent on determining its limit of distensibility, the organ burst, with unpleasant results, which called forth the remark] "i think we'll leave it at that!")), which were never finished up. they prove that he intended the production of special monographs on the anatomy of these peculiar mammalian forms, as he did on members of other orders which he had less fully investigated, and on the more important groups of fishes alluded to in the earlier part of my letter; and there seems no doubt, from the collocation of dates and study of the order of the events, that his memorable paper "on the application of the laws of evolution to the arrangement of the vertebrata, and more particularly of the mammalia," published in the "proceedings of the zoological society" for ,--the most masterly among his scientific theses--was the direct outcome of this intention, the only expression which he gave to the world of the interaction of a series of revolutionary ideas and conceptions (begotten of the labours of his closing years as a working zoologist) which were at the period assuming shape in his mind. they have done more than all else of their period to rationalise the application of our knowledge of the vertebrata, and have now left their mark for all time on the history of progress, as embodied in our classificatory systems. he was in extending his important observations upon the respiratory apparatus from birds to reptiles, with results which show him to have been keenly appreciative of the existence of fundamental points of similarity between the avian and chelonian types--a field which has been more recently independently opened up by milani. nor must it be imagined that after the publication of his ideal work on the crayfishes in , he had forsaken the invertebrata. on the contrary, during the late ' 's, and on till , he accumulated a considerable number of drawings (as usual with brief notes), on the mollusca. some are rough, others beautiful in every respect, and among the more conspicuous outcomes of the work are some detailed observations on the nervous system, and an attempt to formulate a new terminology of orientation of the acephalous molluscan body. the period embraces that of his research upon the spirula of the "challenger" expedition, since published; and incidentally to this he also accumulated a series of valuable drawings, with explanatory notes, of cephalopod anatomy, which, as accurate records of fact, are unsurpassed. as you are aware, he was practically the founder of the anthropological institute. here again, in the late ' 's and early ' 's, he was most clearly contemplating a far-reaching inquiry into the physical anthropology of all races of mankind. there remain in testimony to this some to photographs (which i have had carefully arranged in order and registered), most of them of the nude figure standing erect, with the arm extended against a scale. a desultory correspondence proves that in connection with these he was in treaty with british residents and agents all over the world, with the admiralty and naval officers, and that all was being done with a fixed idea in view. he was clearly contemplating something exhaustive and definite which he never fulfilled, and the method is now the more interesting from its being essentially the same as that recently and independently adopted by mortillet. beyond this, your father's notes reveal numerous other indications of matters and phases of activity, of great interest in their bearings on the history and progress of contemporary investigation, but these are of a detailed and wholly technical order. appendix . his administrative work as an officer of the royal society is described in the following note by sir joseph hooker:-- mr. huxley was appointed joint-secretary of the royal society, november , , in succession to dr. sharpey, sir george airy being president, and professor (now sir george) stokes, senior secretary. he held the office till november , . the duties of the office are manifold and heavy; they include attendance at all the meetings of the fellows, and of the councils, committees, and sub-committees of the society, and especially the supervision of the printing and illustrating all papers on biological subjects that are published in the society's transactions and proceedings: the latter often involving a protracted correspondence with the authors. to this must be added a share in the supervision of the staff of officers, of the library and correspondence, and the details of house-keeping. the appointment was well-timed in the interest of the society, for the experience he had obtained as an officer in the surveying expedition of captain stanley rendered his co-operation and advice of the greatest value in the efforts which the society had recently commenced to induce the government, through the admiralty especially, to undertake the physical and biological exploration of the ocean. it was but a few months before his appointment that he had been placed upon a committee of the society, through which h.m.s. "porcupine" was employed for this purpose in the european seas, and negotiations had already been commenced with the admiralty for a voyage of circumnavigation with the same objects, which eventuated in the "challenger" expedition. in the first year of his appointment, the equipment of the "challenger", and selection of its officers, was entrusted to the royal society, and in the preparation of the instructions to the naturalists mr. huxley had a dominating responsibility. in the same year a correspondence commenced with the india office on the subject of deep-sea dredging in the indian ocean (it came to nothing), and another with the royal geographical society on that of a north polar expedition, which resulted in the nares expedition ( ). in , another with the admiralty on the advisability of appointing naturalists to accompany two of the expeditions about to be despatched for observing the transit of venus across the sun's disk in mauritius and kerguelen, which resulted in three naturalists being appointed. arduous as was the correspondence devolving on the biological secretary, through the instructing and instalment of these two expeditions, it was as nothing compared with the official, demi-official, and private, with the government and individuals, that arose from the government request that the royal society should arrange for the publication and distribution of the enormous collections brought home by the above-named expedition. it is not too much to say that mr. huxley had a voice in every detail of these publications. the sittings of the committee of publication of the "challenger" expedition collections (of which sir j.d. hooker was chairman, and mr. huxley the most active member) were protracted from to , and resulted in the publication of fifty royal quarto volumes, with plates, maps, sections, etc., the work of seventy-six authors, every shilling of the expenditure on which (some , pounds) was passed under the authority of the committee of publication. nor was mr. huxley less actively interested in the domestic affairs of the society. in the whole establishment was translated from the building subsequently occupied by the royal academy to that which it now inhabits in the same quadrangle; a flitting of library stuff and appurtenances involving great responsibilities on the officers for the satisfactory re-establishment of the whole institution. in a very important alteration of the bye-laws was effected, whereby that which gave to peers the privilege of being proposed for election as fellows, without previous selection by the committee (and to which bye-laws, as may be supposed, mr. huxley was especially repugnant), was replaced by one restricting that privilege to privy councillors. in he actively supported a proposition for extending the interests taken in the society by holding annually a reception, to which the lady friends of the fellows who were interested in science should be invited to inspect an exhibition of some of the more recent inventions, appliances, and discoveries in science. and in the same year another reform took place in which he was no less interested, which was the abolition of the entrance fees for ordinary fellows, which had proved a bar to the coming forward of men of small incomes, but great eminence. the loss of income to the society from this was met by a subscription of no less than , pounds, raised almost entirely amongst the fellows themselves for the purpose. in a responsibility, that fell heavily on the secretaries, was the allotment annually of a grant by the treasury of pounds, to be expended, under the direction of the royal and other learned societies, on the advancement of science. (it is often called a grant to the royal society. this is an error. the royal society, as such, in no way participates in this grant. the society makes grants from funds in its own possession only.) every detail of the business of this grant is undertaken by a large committee of the royal and other scientific societies, which meets in the society's rooms, and where all the business connected with the grant is conducted and the records kept. appendix . list of essays, books, and scientific memoirs, by t.h. huxley. essays. "the darwinian hypothesis." ("times" december , .) "collected essays" . "on the educational value of the natural history sciences." (an address delivered at st. martin's hall, on july , , and published as a pamphlet in that year.) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "time and life." ("macmillan's magazine" december .) "the origin of species." (the "westminster review" april .) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "a lobster: or the study of zoology." (a lecture delivered at the south kensington museum in , and subsequently published by the department of science and art. original title, "on the study of zoology.") "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "geological contemporaneity and persistent types of life." (the anniversary address to the geological society for .) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "six lectures to working men on our knowledge of the causes of the phenomena of organic nature, ." "collected essays" . "man's place in nature," see list of books. republished, "collected essays" . "criticisms on 'the origin of species.'" (the "natural history review" .) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "emancipation--black and white." (the "reader" may , .) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "on the methods and results of ethnology." (the "fortnightly review" .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "on the advisableness of improving natural knowledge." (a lay sermon delivered in st. martin's hall, january , , and subsequently published in the "fortnightly review".) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "a liberal education: and where to find it." (an address to the south london working men's college, delivered january , , and subsequently published in "macmillan's magazine".) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "on a piece of chalk." (a lecture delivered to the working men of norwich, during the meeting of the british association, in . subsequently published in "macmillan's magazine".) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "on the physical basis of life." (a lay sermon, delivered in edinburgh, on sunday, november , , at the request of the late reverend james cranbrook; subsequently published in the "fortnightly review".) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "the scientific aspects of positivism." (a reply to mr. congreve's attack upon the preceding paper. published in the "fortnightly review" .) "lay sermons". "the genealogy of animals." (a review of haeckel's "naturliche schopfungs-geschichte". the "academy" .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "geological reform." (the anniversary address to the geological society for .) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "scientific education: notes of an after-dinner speech." (delivered before the liverpool philomathic society in april , and subsequently published in "macmillan's magazine".) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "on descartes' 'discourse touching the method of using one's reason rightly, and of seeking scientific truth.'" (an address to the cambridge young men's christian society, delivered on march , , and subsequently published in "macmillan's magazine".) "lay sermons"; "collected essays" . "on some fixed points in british ethnology." (the "contemporary review" july .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "biogenesis and abiogenesis." (the presidential address to the british association for the advancement of science, .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "paleontology and the doctrine of evolution." (the presidential address to the geological society, .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "on medical education." (an address to the students of the faculty of medicine in university college, london, .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "on coral and coral reefs." ("good words" .) "critiques and addresses". "the school boards: what they can do, and what they may do." (the "contemporary review" december .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "administrative nihilism." (an address delivered to the members of the midland institute, on october , , and subsequently published in the "fortnightly review".) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "mr. darwin's critics." (the "contemporary review" november .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "on the formation of coal." (a lecture delivered before the members of the bradford philosophical institution, december , , and subsequently published in the "contemporary review".) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "yeast." (the "contemporary review" december .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "bishop berkeley on the metaphysics of sensation." ("macmillan's magazine" june .) "critiques and addresses"; "collected essays" . "the problems of the deep sea" ( ). "collected essays" . "universities: actual and ideal." (the inaugural address of the lord rector of the university of aberdeen, february , . "contemporary review" .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "joseph priestley." (an address delivered on the occasion of the presentation of a statue of priestley to the town of birmingham on august , .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "on the hypothesis that animals are automata, and its history." (an address delivered at the meeting of the british association for the advancement of science, at belfast, .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "on some of the results of the expedition of h.m.s. 'challenger'" . "collected essays" . "on the border territory between the animal and vegetable kingdoms." (an evening lecture at the royal institution, friday, january , . "macmillan's magazine" .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "three lectures on evolution." (new york, september , , , .) "american addresses"; "collected essays" . "address on university education." (delivered at the opening of the johns hopkins university, baltimore, september , .) "american addresses"; "collected essays" . "on the study of biology." (a lecture in connection with the loan collection of scientific apparatus at south kensington museum, december , .) "american addresses"; "collected essays" . "elementary instruction in physiology." (read at the meeting of the domestic economy congress at birmingham, .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "technical education." (an address delivered to the working men's club and institute, december , .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "evolution in biology." (the "encyclopaedia britannica" ninth edition volume .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "hume," . "collected essays" . see also under "books." "on sensation and the unity of structure of the sensiferous organs." (an evening lecture at the royal institution, friday, march , .) "nineteenth century" april . "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "prefatory note to the translation of e. haeckel's freedom in science and teaching," . (kegan paul.) "on certain errors respecting the structure of the heart attributed to aristotle." "nature" november , . "science and culture". "the coming of age of 'the origin of species.'" (an evening lecture at the royal institution, friday, april , .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "on the method of zadig." (a lecture delivered at the working men's college, great ormond street, . "nineteenth century" june .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "science and culture." (an address delivered at the opening of sir josiah mason's science college at birmingham on october , .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "the connection of the biological sciences with medicine." (an address delivered at the meeting of the international medical congress in london, august , .) "science and culture"; "collected essays" . "the rise and progress of paleontology." (an address delivered at the york meeting of the british association for the advancement of science, .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "charles darwin." (obituary notice in "nature", april .) "collected essays" . "on science and art in relation to education." (an address to the members of the liverpool institution, .) "collected essays" . "the state and the medical profession." (the opening address at the london hospital medical school, .) "collected essays" . "the darwin memorial." (a speech delivered at the unveiling of the darwin statue at south kensington, june , .) "collected essays" . "the interpreters of genesis and the interpreters of nature." ("nineteenth century", december .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "mr. gladstone and genesis." ("nineteenth century", february .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "the evolution of theology: an anthropological study." ("nineteenth century", march and april .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "science and morals." ("fortnightly review" november .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "scientific and pseudo-scientific realism." ("nineteenth century", february .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "science and pseudo-science." ("nineteenth century", april .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "an episcopal trilogy." ("nineteenth century", november .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "address on behalf of the national association for the promotion of technical education" ( ). "collected essays" . "the progress of science" ( ). (reprinted from "the reign of queen victoria", by t.h. ward.) "collected essays" . "darwin obituary." ("proceedings of the royal society" .) "collected essays" . "the struggle for existence in human society." ("nineteenth century", february .) "collected essays" . "agnosticism." ("nineteenth century", february .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "the value of witness to the miraculous." ("nineteenth century", march .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "agnosticism: a rejoinder." ("nineteenth century", april .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "agnosticism and christianity." ("nineteenth century", june .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "the natural inequality of men." ("nineteenth century". january .) "collected essays" . "natural rights and political rights." ("nineteenth century", february .) "collected essays" . "capital, the mother of labour." ("nineteenth century", march .) "collected essays" . "government: anarchy or regimentation." ("nineteenth century", may .) "collected essays" . "the lights of the church and the light of science." ("nineteenth century", july .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "the aryan question." ("nineteenth century", november .) "collected essays" . "the keepers of the herd of swine." ("nineteenth century", december .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "autobiography." ( , "collected essays" .) this originally appeared with a portrait in a series of biographical sketches by c. engel. "illustrations of mr. gladstone's controversial methods." ("nineteenth century", march ). "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "hasisadra's adventure." ("nineteenth century", june .) "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "possibilities and impossibilities." (the "agnostic annual" for .) , "collected essays" . "social diseases and worse remedies." ( .) letters to the "times", december and january . published in pamphlet form (macmillan & co.) . "collected essays" . "an apologetic irenicon." ("fortnightly review", november .) "prologue to 'controverted questions'" ( ). "controverted questions"; "collected essays" . "evolution and ethics," being the romanes lecture for . also "prolegomena," . "collected essays" . "owen's position in the history of anatomical science," being a chapter in the "life of sir richard owen", by his grandson, the reverend richard owen ( ). "scientific memoirs" . books. "kolliker's manual of human histology". (translated and edited by t.h. huxley and g. busk), . "evidence as to man's place in nature," . "lectures on the elements of comparative anatomy" (one volume only published), . "elementary atlas of comparative osteology" (in plates), . "lessons in elementary physiology." first edition printed ; second edition, ; reprinted , , , (twice); third edition, ; reprinted , , , , , , , , (six times); fourth edition, ; reprinted , , , , (twice), , . "an introduction to the classification of animals," . "lay sermons, addresses, and reviews." first edition printed ; second edition, ; reprinted , , , , , ; third edition, ; reprinted , (twice), , . "essays selected from lay sermons, addresses, and reviews." first edition, ; reprinted , . "manual of the anatomy of vertebrated animals," (churchill). "critiques and addresses." first edition printed ; reprinted and . "a course of practical instruction in elementary biology." by professor huxley and dr. h.n. martin. first edition printed ; second edition, ; reprinted (twice), (twice), , , , , (three times), ; third edition, edited by messrs. howes and scott, ; reprinted , , . "american addresses." first edition printed ; reprinted . "anatomy of invertebrated animals," . "physiography." first edition, ; reprinted , , , , , , , , (three times), , , , , , . "hume." english men of letters series. first edition printed ; reprinted (twice), , , , . "the crayfish: an introduction to the study of zoology," . "evolution and ethics." first edition printed ; reprinted (three times); second edition, third edition, ; reprinted . "introductory science primer." first edition printed ; reprinted , , , (twice), , , . "science and culture, and other essays." first edition printed ; reprinted , . "social diseases and worse remedies." first edition printed ; reprinted, with additions, (twice). "essays on some controverted questions." printed in . collected essays. volume . "method and results." first edition printed ; reprinted , . volume . "darwiniana." first edition printed ; reprinted . volume . "science and education." first edition printed ; reprinted . volume . "science and hebrew tradition." first edition printed ; reprinted , . volume . "science and christian tradition." first edition printed ; reprinted , . volume . "hume, with helps to the study of berkeley." first edition printed ; reprinted . volume . "man's place in nature." first printed for macmillan and co. in ; reprinted , . volume . "discourses, biological and geological." first edition printed ; reprinted . volume . "evolution and ethics and other essays." first edition printed ; reprinted , . "scientific memoirs," volume printed , volume printed , volume , volume . scientific memoirs. "on a hitherto undescribed structure in the human hair sheath," "london medical gazette" (july ). "examination of the corpuscles of the blood of amphioxus lanceolatus," "british association report" ( ), part ; "scientific memoirs" . "description of the animal of trigonia," "proceedings of the zoological society" volume . ( ), - ; also in "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ), - ; "scientific memoirs" . "on the anatomy and the affinities of the family of the medusae," "philosophical transactions of the royal society" ( ), part ; "scientific memoirs" . "notes on medusae and polypes," "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ), , ; "scientific memoirs" . "observations sur la circulation du sang chez les mollusques des genres firole et atlante." (extraites d'une lettre adressee a m. milne-edwards.) "annales des sciences naturelles" ( ), - ; "scientific memoirs" . "observations upon the anatomy and physiology of salpa and pyrosoma," "philosophical transactions of the royal society" ( ) part - ; also in "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ), - ; "scientific memoirs" . "remarks upon appendicularia and doliolum, two genera of the tunicata," "philosophical transactions of the royal society" ( ), part - ; "scientific memoirs" . "zoological notes and observations made on board h.m.s. "rattlesnake" during the years - " "annals and magazine of natural history" series . ( ), - , - ; volume - : "scientific memoirs" . "observations on the genus sagitta," "british association report" ( ) part , (sectional transactions); "scientific memoirs" . "an account of researches into the anatomy of the hydrostatic acalephae," "british association report" (july ) part - (sectional transactions); "scientific memoirs" . "description of a new form of sponge-like animal," "british association report" (july ) part (sectional transactions); "scientific memoirs" . "report upon the researches of professor muller into the anatomy and development of the echinoderms" "annals and magazine of natural history" series volume ( ) - ; "scientific memoirs" . "ueber die sexualorgane der diphydae und physophoridae" muller's "archiv fur anatomie, physiologie, und wissenschaftliche medicin" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "lacinularia socialis: a contribution to the anatomy and physiology of the rotifera," "transactions of the micr. society" london, new series ( ) - ; (read december , ). "scientific memoirs" . "upon animal individuality," "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ), - . (abstract of a friday evening discourse delivered on th april .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the morphology of the cephalous mollusca, as illustrated by the anatomy of certain heteropoda and pteropoda collected during the voyage of h.m.s. 'rattlesnake' in - " "philosophical transactions of the royal society" ( ) part - . "scientific memoirs" . "researches into the structure of the ascidians," "british association report" ( ) part - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the anatomy and development of echinococcus veterinorum" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the identity of structure of plants and animals"; abstract of a friday evening discourse delivered at the royal institution on april , ; "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - ; "edinburgh new phil. journal" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "observations on the existence of cellulose in the tunic of ascidians" "quarterly journal micr. s." ; "scientific memoirs" . "on the development of the teeth, and on the nature and import of nasmyth's 'persistent capsule'" "quarterly journal micr. s." . "scientific memoirs" . "the cell-theory (review)" "british and for. med. chir. review" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the vascular system of the lower annulosa" "british association report" ( ) part page . "scientific memoirs" . "on the common plan of animal forms" (abstract of a friday evening discourse delivered at the royal institution on may , .) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure and relation of the corpuscula tactus (tactile corpuscles or axile corpuscles) and of the pacinian bodies" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the ultimate structure and relations of the malpighian bodies of the spleen and of the tonsillar follicles" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on certain zoological arguments commonly adduced in favour of the hypothesis of the progressive development of animal life in time." (abstract of a friday evening discourse delivered on april , .) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on natural history as knowledge, discipline, and power" "royal institution proceedings" ( - ) - . (abstract of a discourse delivered on friday, february , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the present state of knowledge as to the structure and functions of nerve" "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - . (abstract of a discourse delivered on friday, may , .) "scientific memoirs" . (translation) "on tape and cystic worms" von siebold ( ) for the sydenham society. "contributions to icones zootomicae" by victor carus ( ). "on the phenomena of gemmation" (abstract of a discourse delivered on friday, may , .) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - ; "silliman's journal" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "contributions to the anatomy of the brachiopoda" "proceedings of the royal society" ( - ) - ; , . "scientific memoirs" . "on hermaphrodite and fissiparous species of tubicolar annelidae (protula dysteri)" "edin. new phil. journal" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure of noctiluca miliaris" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the enamel and dentine of the teeth" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "memoir on physalia" "proceedings of the linnean society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the anatomy of diphyes, and on the unity of composition of the diphyidae and physophoridae, etc." "proceedings of the linnean society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "tegumentary organs" "the cyclopaedia of anatomy and physiology" edited by robert b. todd, m.d., f.r.s. (the fascicules containing this article were published between august and october .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the method of palaeontology" "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the crustacean stomach" "journal linnean society" . (never finally written.) "observations on the structure and affinities of himantopterus" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "further observations on the structure of appendicula flabellum (chamisso)" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "note on the reproductive organs of the cheilostome polyzoa" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) , . "scientific memoirs" . "description of a new crustacean (pygocephalus cooperi, huxley) from the coal-measures" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on dysteria, a new genus of infusoria" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "review of dr. hannover's memoir: "ueber die entwickelung und den bau des saugethierzahns" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "letter to mr. tyndall on the structure of glacier ice" "phil. magazine" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on cephalaspis and pteraspis" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "observations on the genus pteraspis" "british association report" ( ) part , . "scientific memoirs" . "on a new species of plesiosaurus (p. etheridgii) from street, near glastonbury; with remarks on the structure of the atlas and the axis vertebrae and of the cranium in that genus" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the theory of the vertebrate skull" "proceedings of the royal society" ( - ) - ; "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure and motion of glaciers" "philosophical transactions of the royal society" ( ) - . (received and read january , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the agamic reproduction and morphology of aphis" "transactions of the linnean society" ( ) - , - . (read november , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on some points in the anatomy of nautilus pompilius" "journal of the linnean society" ( ) (zoology) - . (read june , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the persistent types of animal life" "proceedings of the royal institution of great britain" ( - ) - . (friday, june , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the stagonolepis robertsoni (agassiz) of the elgin sandstones; and on the recently discovered footmarks in the sandstones of cummingstone" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on some amphibian and reptilian remains from south africa and australia" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . (read march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on a new species of dicynodon (d. murrayi) from near colesberg, south africa; and on the structure of the skull in the dicynodonts" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . (read march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on rhamphorhynchus bucklandi, a pterosaurian from the stonesfield slate" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . (read march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on a fossil bird and a fossil cetacean from new zealand" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . (read march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the dermal armour of crocodilus hastingsiae" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . (read march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "british fossils" part "on the anatomy and affinities of the genus pterygotus" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" monograph ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "british fossils" part . "description of the species of pterygotus" by j.w. salter, f.g.s., a.l.s., "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" monograph ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on dasyceps bucklandi (labyrinthodon bucklandi, lloyd)" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on a fragment of a lower jaw of a large labyrinthodont from cubbington" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "observations on the development of some parts of the skeleton of fishes" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the dermal armour of jacare and caiman, with notes on the specific and generic characters of recent crocodilia" "journal of the linnean society" ( ) (zoology) - . (read february , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the anatomy and development of pyrosoma" "transactions of the linnean society" . ( ) - . (read december , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the oceanic hydrozoa" "ray society" ( ). "on species and races, and their origin" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - ; "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure of the mouth and pharynx of the scorpion" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the nature of the earliest stages of the development of animals" "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - . (february , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on a new species of macrauchenia (m. boliviensis)" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on pteraspis dunensis (archaeoteuthis dunensis, romer)" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "preliminary essay upon the systematic arrangement of the fishes of the devonian epoch" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" "figures and descriptions of british organic remains" ( decade x) - . "scientific memoirs" . "glyptolaemus kinnairdi" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" "figures and descriptions of british and organic remains" ( decade x) - . "scientific memoirs" . "phaneropleuron andersoni" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" "figures and descriptions of british organic remains" ( decade x) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the zoological relations of man with the lower animals" "natural history review" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the brain of ateles paniscus" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on fossil remains of man" "proceedings of the royal institution" ( - ) - . (february , .) "scientific memoirs" . "anniversary address to the geological society, " "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . see also in list of essays "geological contemporaneity, etc." "scientific memoirs" . "on the new labyrinthodonts from the edinburgh coalfield" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on a stalk-eyed crustacean from the carboniferous strata near paisley" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the premolar teeth of diprotodon, and on a new species of that genus (d. australis)" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "description of a new specimen of glyptodon recently acquired by the royal college of surgeons" "proceedings of the royal society" ( - ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "letter on the human remains found in shell-mounds" (june , ) "transactions of the ethnological society" . ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "description of anthracosaurus russelli, a new labyrinthodont from the lanarkshire coal-field" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the form of the placenta in the cape hyrax" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) page . (the paper was never written in full; the materials and an unfinished drawing of the membranes are at south kensington.) "further remarks upon the human remains from the neanderthal" "natural history review" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the angwantibo (arctocebus calabarensis, gray) of old calabar" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure of the skull of man, the gorilla, the chimpanzee, and the orang-utan, during the period of the first dentition" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) page . (this paper was never written in full, but was incorporated in "man's place in nature.") "on the cetacean fossils termed 'ziphius' by cuvier, with a notice of a new species (belemnoziphius compressus) from the red crag" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure of the belemnitidae" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" monograph ( ). "scientific memoirs" . "on the osteology of the genus glyptodon" ( ) "philosophical transactions of the royal society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure of the stomach in desmodus rufus" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on a collection of vertebrate fossils from the panchet rocks, ranigunj, bengal" "memoir of the geological survey of india"; "palaeontologica indica" series ; "indian pretertiary vertebrata" ( - ). "scientific memoirs" . "on the methods and results of ethnology" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . see also "collected essays" . "explanatory preface to the catalogue of the palaeontological collection in the museum of practical geology" ( ). "scientific memoirs" . see "principles and methods of paleontology" . "on two extreme forms of human crania" "anthropological review" ( ) - . "on a collection of vertebrate remains from the jarrow colliery, kilkenny, ireland" "geological magazine" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on some remains of large dinosaurian reptiles from the stormberg mountains, south africa" "phil. magazine" ( ) - ; "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on a new specimen of telerpeton elginense" ( ) "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "notes on the human remains of caithness" ( ) in the "prehistoric remains of caithness" by s. laing. "on two widely contrasted forms of the human cranium" "journal of anatomy and physiology" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on acanthopholis horridus, a new reptile from the chalk-marl" "geological magazine" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the classification of birds; and on the taxonomic value of the modifications of certain of the cranial bones observable in that class" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the animals which are most nearly intermediate between birds and reptiles" "annals and magazine of natural history" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on saurosternon bainii and pristerodon m'kayi, two new fossil lacertilian reptiles from south africa" "geological magazine" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "reply to objections on my classification of birds" "ibis" ( ) - . "on the form of the cranium among the patagonians and fuegians, with some remarks upon american crania in general" "journal of anatomy and physiology" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on some organisms living at great depths in the north atlantic ocean" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "remarks upon archaeopteryx lithographica" "proceedings of the royal society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the classification and distribution of the alectoromorphae and heteromorphae" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on hyperodapedon" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on a new labyrinthodont (pholiderpeton scutigerum) from bradford" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the upper jaw of megalosaurus" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "principles and methods of paleontology" (written in as the introduction to the collection of fossils at jermyn street.) "smithsonian report" ( ) - . see above ( ). "on the representatives of the malleus and the incus of mammalia in the other vertebrata" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "address to the geological society, " "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the ethnology and archaeology of india" (opening address of the president, march , .) "journal of the ethnological society of london" ( ) - . (delivered march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on the ethnology and archeology of north america" (address of the president, april , .) "journal of the ethnological society of london" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on hypsilophodon foxii, a new dinosaurian from the wealden of the isle of wight" ( ) "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "further evidence of the affinity between the dinosaurian reptiles and birds" ( ) "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the classification of the dinosauria, with observations on the dinosauria of the trias" ( ) "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the ethnology of britain" "journal of the ethnological society of london" ( ) - . (delivered may , ). "scientific memoirs" . "the anniversary address of the president" "journal of the ethnological society of london" new series ( ) - (may , ). "scientific memoirs" . "on the geographical distribution of the chief modifications of mankind" "journal of the ethnological society of london" new series ( ) - . (june , .) "scientific memoirs" . "on a new labyrinthodont from bradford" with a note on its locality and stratigraphical position by louis c. miall "phil. magazine" ( ) . "anniversary address to the geological society, " "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . ("paleontology and the doctrine of evolution") "collected essays" . "scientific memoirs" . "address to the british association at liverpool" "british association report" ( ) - . "collected essays" . "scientific memoirs" . "on the milk dentition of palaeotherium magnum" "geological magazine" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "triassic dinosauria" "nature" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the maxilla of megalosaurus" "phil. magazine" ( ) - . "on the relations of penicillium, torula, and bacterium" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - . (a report by another hand of an address given at the british association, the views expressed in which were afterwards set aside.) "scientific memoirs" . "on a collection of fossil vertebrata from the jarrow colliery, county of kilkenny, ireland" "transactions of the royal irish academy" ( ) - . "yeast" "contemporary review" december . "scientific memoirs" . "note on the development of the columella auris in the amphibia" "british association report" (section) - ; "nature" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the structure of the skull and of the heart of menobranchus lateralis" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the hypothesis that animals are automata, and its history" "nature" ( ) - . see also list of essays. "preliminary note upon the brain and skull of amphioxus lanceolatus" ( ) "proceedings of the royal society" ( ). "scientific memoirs" . "on the bearing of the distribution of the portio dura upon the morphology of the skull" ( ) "proceedings of the cambridge phil. society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the classification of the animal kingdom" ( ) "journal of the linnean society" (zoology) ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the recent work of the 'challenger' expedition, and its bearing on geological problems" "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on stagonolepis robertsoni, and on the evolution of the crocodilia" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "contributions to morphology. ichthyopsida.--number . on ceradotus forsteri, with observations on the classification of fishes" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the position of the anterior nasal apertures in lepidosiren" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the nature of the cranio-facial apparatus of petromyzon" "journal of anatomy and physiology" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "the border territory between the animal and the vegetable kingdoms" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . "macmillan's magazine" - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the evidence as to the origin of existing vertebrate animals" "nature" ( ) - , - , - , - , - ; ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "the crocodilian remains in the elgin sandstones, with remarks on the ichnites of cummingstone" "memoir of the geological survey of the united kingdom" monograph ( pages and plates). "scientific memoirs" . "on the study of biology" "nature" ( ) - ; "american naturalist" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the geological history of birds" (march , ) "proceedings of the royal institution" . [the substance of this paper is contained in the "new york lectures on evolution" ; see page .] "address to the anthropological department of the british association, dublin, . informal remarks on the conclusions of anthropology" "british association report" - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the classification and the distribution of the crayfishes" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on a new arrangement for dissecting microscopes" ( ) the president's address "journal of the quekett micr. club" ( - ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "william harvey" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the characters of the pelvis in the mammalia, and the conclusions respecting the origin of mammals which may be based on them" "proceedings of the royal society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "sensation and the unity of structure of sensiferous organs" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . see also "collected essays" . "scientific memoirs" . "the president's address" (july , ) "journal of the quekett micr. club" ( - ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on certain errors respecting the structure of the heart, attributed to aristotle" ( ) "nature" ( ) - . see also "science and culture". "scientific memoirs" . "on the epipubis in the dog and fox" "proceedings of the royal society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "the coming of age of 'the origin of species'" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . see also "collected essays" . "scientific memoirs" . "on the cranial and dental characters of the canidae" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the application of the laws of evolution to the arrangement of the vertebrata, and more particularly of the mammalia" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "the herring" "nature" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "address to the international medical congress" london --"the connection of the biological sciences with medicine" "nature" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "the rise and progress of paleontology" "nature" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "a contribution to the pathology of the epidemic known as the 'salmon disease'" (february , ) "proceedings of the royal society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on the respiratory organs of apteryx" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "on saprolegnia in relation to the salmon disease" "quarterly journal micr. s." ( ) - (reprinted from the st annual report of h.m. inspectors of salmon fisheries). "scientific memoirs" . "on animal forms" being the rede lecture for ; "nature" page . "address delivered at the opening of the fisheries exhibition at south kensington, ." "contributions to morphology. ichthyopsida.--number . on the oviducts of osmerus; with remarks on the relations of the teleostean with the ganoid fishes" "proceedings of the zoological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "oysters and the oyster question" ( ) "proceedings of the royal institution" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "preliminary note on the fossil remains of a chelonian reptile, ceratochelys sthenurus, from lord howe's island, australia" "proceedings of the royal society" ( ) - . (read march , .) "scientific memoirs" . "the gentians: notes and queries" (april , ) "journal of the linnean society" (botany) ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "further observations on hyperodapedon" "quarterly journal of the geological society" ( ) - . "scientific memoirs" . "owen's position in the history of anatomical science" see page . appendix . honours, degrees, societies, etc. (this list has been compiled from such diplomas and letters as i found in my father's possession.) order: norwegian order of the north star, . degrees, etc.: oxford--hon. d.c.l. . cambridge--hon. ll.d. . --rede lecturer, . london--first m.b. and gold medal, . --examiner in physiology and comparative anatomy; . --member of senate, . edinburgh--hon. ll.d. . aberdeen--lord rector, . dublin--hon. ll.d. . breslau--hon. ph.d. and m.a. . wurzburg--hon. m.d. . bologna--hon. m.d. . erlangen--hon. m.d. . societies--london: royal, . --sec. - . --pres. - . --royal society's medal, . --copley medal, . --darwin medal, . linnean, . --linnean medal, . geological, . --sec. - . --pres. - . --wollaston medal, . zoological, . odontological, . ethnological, . --pres. - . anthropological institute, . medico-chirurgical, hon. memb. . medical, hon. memb. . literary, . silver medal of the apothecaries' society for botany, . royal college of surgeons, member, . --fellow, . --hunterian professor, - . st. thomas's hospital, lecturer in comparative anatomy, . british association for the advancement of science, pres. . --pres. of section d, . royal institution, fullerian lecturer, - . british museum, trustee, . quekett microscopical club, president, - . societies--provincial, colonial and indian: dublin university zoological and botanical association; corr. member, . liverpool literary and philosophic society, hon. memb. . manchester literary and philosophical society, hon. memb. . odontological society of great britain, . royal irish academy, hon. memb. . historical society of lancashire and cheshire, hon. memb. . royal society of edinburgh, british hon. fellow, . glasgow philosophical society, hon. memb. . literary and antiquarian society of perth, hon. memb. . cambridge philosophical society, hon. memb. . hertfordshire natural history society, hon. memb. . royal college of surgeons of ireland, hon. memb. . new zealand institute, hon. memb. . royal society of new south wales, hon. memb. , clarke medal, . foreign societies: international congress of anthropology and prehistoric archeology, corr. memb. . international geological congress (pres.) . america: academy of the natural sciences of philadelphia, corr. memb. ; hayden medal, . odontographic society of pennsylvania, hon. memb. . american philosophical society of philadelphia, . buffalo society of natural sciences, hon. memb. . new york academy of sciences, hon. memb. . boston society of natural history, hon. memb. . national academy of sciences of the u.s.a., foreign associate, . american academy of arts and sciences, foreign hon. memb. . austria-hungary: konigliche kaiserliche geologische reichsanstalt (vienna), corr. memb. . k.k. zoologische-botanische gesellschaft in wien, . belgium: academie royale de medecine de belgique, . societe geologique de belgique, hon. memb. . societe d'anthropologie de bruxelles, hon. memb. . brazil: gabineta portuguez de leitura em pernambuco, corr. memb. . denmark: royal society of copenhagen, fellow, . egypt: institut egyptien (alexandria), hon. memb. . france: societe imperiale des sciences naturelles de cherbourg, corr. memb. . institut de france; "correspondant" in the section of physiology (succeeding von baer), . germany: microscopical society of giessen, hon. memb. . imperialis academia caesariana naturae curiosorum (dresden), . imperial literary and scientific academy of germany, . royal society of sciences in gottingen, corr. memb. . royal bavarian academy of literature and science (munich), for. memb. . royal prussian academy of sciences (berlin), . medicinisch-naturwisseflschaftliche gesellschaft zu jena, for. hon. memb. . geographical society of berlin, for. memb. . deutscher fischerei-verein, corr. memb. . berliner gesellschaft fur anthropologie, ethnologie, und urgeschichte, corr. memb. . naturforschende gesellschaft zu halle, . senkenbergische naturforschende gesellschaft (frankfurt a/m.), corr. memb. . holland: dutch society of sciences (haarlem), for. memb. . koninklyke natuurkundige vereenigung in nederlandisch-indie (batavia), corr. memb. . royal academy of sciences (amsterdam), for. memb. . italy: societa italiana di antropologia e di etnologia, hon. memb. . academia de' lincei di roma, for. memb. (supplementary), , ordinary, . reale academia valdarnense del poggio (florence), corr. memb. . societa dei naturalisti in modena, hon. memb. . societa italiana delle scienze (naples), for. memb. . academia scientiarum instituti bononiensis (bologna), corr. memb. . portugal: academia real das sciencias de lisboa, for. corr. memb. . russia: imperial academy of sciences (st. petersburg), corr. memb. . societas caesarea naturae cuniosorum (moscow), ordinary member, , hon. memb. . sweden: societas medicorum svecana, ordinary memb. . royal commissions: t.h. huxley served on the following royal or other commissions:-- . royal commission on the operation of acts relating to trawling for herrings on the coast of scotland, . . royal commission to inquire into the sea fisheries of the united kingdom, - . . commission on the royal college of science for ireland, . . commission on science and art instruction in ireland, . . royal commission upon the administration and operation of the contagious diseases acts, - . . royal commission on scientific instruction and the advancement of science, - . . royal commission on the practice of subjecting live animals to experiments for scientific purposes, . . royal commission to inquire into the universities of scotland, - . . royal commission on the medical acts, - . . royal commission on trawl, net, and beam trawl fishing, . *** index. a priori reasoning. abbott, dr. e.a., on "illusions". --correspondence in "times". aberdeen university, huxley rejected for chair at. --lord rector of. --rectorial address at. --translated into german. --perils of writing. aberdour. adamson, professor. addresses delivered under difficulties. "administrative nihilism". admiralty, parsimony of, in . --their dealings with huxley. advice to would-be writer on scientific subjects. agassiz, alexander, at x club. --visit to. agassiz, louis, and creation. --on glaciers. agnosticism, formulated in . --controversy on. --restated. airy, sir g.b., p.r.s. albert, prince, at british association. alcohol, use of. alford, dean, and metaphysical society. allis, e. phelps, jun., supports huxley's unpublished cranial researches. allman, dr. george j., on huxley's leading discovery. --president british association, . america, visit to. --sight of new york. --at yale. --friends. --at niagara. --visits his sister. --at baltimore. --lectures at new york. american civil war. --suggests article "emancipation, black and white". amroth. anglesey, marquis of, at wellington's funeral. angus, dr., on school board. animal motion, lecture on. animals and plants. "animals as automata". --delivered without notes. anthropological institute founded. anthropological society amalgamated with ethnological. anthropologie, societe d', of paris. anthropomorphism. ape question, at oxford. --papers and lectures on. --"punch" squib. --at edinburgh. --leads to ethnological work. --conclusion of. "apologetic irenicon". appletons, and copyright. --visit to. arbitration alliance, letter to, on the reduction of armaments and the real causes of war. "archetype" reviewed by h. spencer. argyll, duke of, in metaphysical society. --on "law". --reply to. --on coral reef theories. --further controversy with. aristotle compared with darwin. --certain errors attributed to. --estimate of the manuscripts of. armstrong, sir alexander, at haslar. armstrong, lord, visits to. --and a newcastle society. arnold, m. --letters to: --a lost umbrella. --"st. paul and protestantism". --on death of his son. arolla, first visit to. --second visit to. aryans, origin of. ascidians, new species of. --doliolum and appendicularia. --on the structure of. --catalogue of. ashby, mr., on sanitary work. ashley, hon. e., vivisection bill. atavism, defence of the word. athanasian creed, anecdote. atheism logically untenable. athenaeum club, elected to. augustan epoch to be beaten by an english epoch. automatism, darwin suggests he should review himself on. auvergne, trip in. --glaciation in. --prehistoric skeleton at le puy. babbage, calculating machine, and the theory of induction. bacon, influence of. --character. "baconian induction," criticism of. --spedding on. baer, von, influence of. --his copley medal. --his work. bailey, f., at lynton. baillon, led to make fresh observations through huxley's gentian paper. bain, professor a. balaam-centaur. balfour, right hon. a., critique on his "foundations of belief". balfour, francis. --death of. --obituary. --likeness to huxley. --looked to as his successor. --opinion of. ball, john, with huxley at belfast. ball, w. platt, letter to: criticises his "use and disuse": advice as to future work. baptism. "barriers, the three". barry, bishop, on huxley's work on the school board. bastian, dr. h. charlton, on spontaneous generation. bateson, mr., letter to: his book "on variation" returns from speculation to fact: natura facit saltum. bathybius. --not accepted in connection with darwin's speculations. --"eating the leek" about. baynes, thomas spencer, letters to: --aberdeen address. --parsons at edinburgh lectures. --regime for health. --arrangements for the "encyclopaedia". --articles for "encyclopaedia". --work on dick swiveller's principle. --handwriting. --puts aside a subject when done with. --a balaam-centaur. --dean stanley's handwriting. --articles between h. and l. --sons-in-law. --biology contrasted with criticism, etc. --reports of his american trip. --harvey article. beale, professor. beaufort, sir f. (hydrographer). --assistance from. beaumont, elie de, contradicted by nature. belemnites, on. bell, thomas, ready to help. --as man of science. --writes official statement on the award of royal society medal to huxley. bence jones, dr., kindness of. --would make the fullerian professorship permanent. --friendly conspiracy. bennett, risdon, and f.r.s. bentham, g., at x club. benvenuto cellini. berkeley. --proposed book on. berkeley, rev. m.j., mycological work. besant, mrs., exclusion from university college. besant, sir w., huxley's face. bible-reading in elementary schools. biological teaching, revolutionised. --darwin on. biology, on the study of. birds, distension of air-cells in flight. --investigations into the structure of. --classification of. --toothed, proposed lecture on. --geological history of. birds and reptiles, relations of. birmingham, address on priestley. --opens mason college. blackie, professor, goes with, to skelton's. blaythwayt, r., "the uses of sentiment". body, "a machine of the nature of an army". bollaert. book, a good, and fools. booth, general, "darkest england" scheme. --compared to law's mississippi scheme. bowman, sir william, retiring from king's college. --death of. bradlaugh, charles, view of. bradlaugh, miss, exclusion from university college. bramwell, sir f., on technical education. brewster, sir david. --criticism of darwin. bright, john, speeches. bristol channel, report on the recent changes of level in. british association. --at southampton: huxley's first paper. --at ipswich. --at belfast, . --at liverpool, . --at aberdeen. --at oxford, . --at cambridge, . --at nottingham. --science in public schools. --president section d. --at dundee: working men's lecture delivered by tyndall. --at norwich. --bathybius. --"a piece of chalk,". --darwinism. --at exeter. --at liverpool: huxley president. --at edinburgh. --at belfast. --address on animal automatism. --paper on columella auris. --committee on vivisection. --at dublin. --address on anthropology. --at sheffield: huxley "eats the leek" about bathybius. --at york: address on "rise and progress of paleontology". --at plymouth, invitation for. --at oxford, : speech on growing acceptance of evolution. british museum, natural history collections. --ex officio trustee. broca, p., advice as to anthropological scheme. --language and race. brodie, sir benjamin. brodie, professor (afterwards the second sir b.). brodie, rev. p., letter to: local museums. brodrick, hon. g., letter to, on linacre chair. --visit to. --letter to: reason for accepting p.r.s. brooks, mr. and mrs., meeting with. brown, alfred, south african geologist. brown sequard at oxford. browning, his music. bruce, john, visit to. --in edinburgh. bruny island. bryson, dr. buchner, l. buckland, frank, succeeds as fishery inspector. buckland, mrs., discovers an echinoderm. buffon, on style. --appreciation of. bunbury, sir c. bunsen. burnett, sir william, director-general navy medical service. --interviews with. --letter to. burns, john, and poem on tennyson. burton, edward, letter to: advice against building disregarded. busk, g., stays with. --on snowdon with. --joint translation of kolliker. --x club. butler's "analogy". cabanis. cairns, professor. calcutta, museum appointment. calvinism in science. cambridge. --british association at. --darwin's ll.d. --huxley's ll.d. --rede lecture --visit to. --harvey tercentenary. campbell, professor lewis. --letters to: --value of mariner's testimony about the tongans. --oxford, british association at, , stronghold of the priesthood in opposing scientific method. campbell, mrs. l. --letter to: --hybrid gentian on a nameless island in sils lake. canaries, trip to. canino, prince of, at british association, ipswich. cardwell, lord, vivisection question. carlyle, influence of. --installed lord rector at edinburgh when huxley received ll.d. --hatred of darwinism. --death of. carlyle, mrs., saying about owen. carnarvon, lord, vivisection bill. carpenter, rev. estlin. --letter to: --acknowledges his book, "the first three gospels": historical basis of christianity: comparison of nazarenism with quakerism. carpenter, w.b., approves of his views. --support for f.r.s. --dealings with, about the registrarship of london university. --at his marriage. --examiner at london university. --at lamlash bay. --and bathybius. carus, victor, corresponds with. --takes wyville thomson's lectures in . cassowary, rhyme. cats, love for. cavendish, lord f., assassination of. cell theory, review of. celt question. "challenger" expedition, and bathybius. --some results of. chamberlain, right hon. joseph, asked to royal society dinner. chambers, robert, at oxford, . chamisso, quoted. chandler, dr., apprenticed to. chapman, the publisher. cherubim, and terrestrial creation. chess player, nature compared to a hidden. chichester, bishop of, on huxley's search after the ur-gentian. christian dogmas. christianity. --"development" of. --demonology of. --historical basis of. --comparison with quakerism. chrystal, professor, to help in men of science series. church army, answer to appeal for subscription to. church, established, and our simian origin. churchill, the publisher. city and guilds institute. city companies and education. clark, sir andrew, m.d., at haslar. --successful treatment by. --meets on return from italy. --advises retirement. --on clifford's illness. --election as f.r.s. clark, sir j., help from. clark, j.w., master of the salters company, letter from--education. clarke, hyde. --letters to: --ashantee war and ethnology: huxley no longer attending to anthropology. --aim of genesis controversy. clarke, f. le gros, evolution and the church. clayton, n.p. --letter to: moral duty and the moral sense: influence of franklin and fox compared. clergy and physical science. clericalism. clerk-maxwell, to help in men of science series. clifford, w.k. --his friends rally to, in his illness. --opinion of. clifford, mrs. --letters to: --a difficulty. --the p.c.: a spiritual peerage. --human nature. clodd, edward, note on secular education. --letters to: --his book "jesus of nazareth": bible reading. --reply to condolence on his daughter's death. --positivism: will devote his remaining powers to theological questions. --baur's merit: proposes work on the three great myths. --legal aspect of the "darkest england" scheme: controversy and waste of time. --new edition of "bates": alleged ignoring of distinguished men by royal society. --"man's place" after thirty years. --answering letters: kidd on social evolution: lord salisbury at oxford. cobden, richard. --and international college. "cock lane and common sense". cole, sir henry, the humour of public affairs. colenso, bishop, bishop wilberforce on. coleridge. coleridge, lord, and vivisection. "collected essays", review of, by professor ray lankester. collier, hon. john. --letters to: --the "apologetic irenicon": art in london university. --a pertinacious portrait painter. --effect of influenza on personal appearance: the romanes lecture an egg-dance. collier, hon. mrs. john. --letters to: --a country visit. --secretarial work: incidents of travel. --naples: violent changes of weather. --secretarial work: --catherine of siena. --end of italian trip. --prize at the slade school: return from maloja. --the canaries. --objects of the seashore. --the p.c. --the cat. --nonsense letter. --an oxford training. collier, w.f. --letters to: --proposed visit to. --a touching mark of confidence. --law of deceased wife's sister: shakespeare and the sexes of plants. --the p.c. "what is honour?": a new beatitude. --visit to. collings, e.t. --letter to: alcohol as a brain stimulant. collings, right hon. jesse, his mother and the p.c. commission, medical acts. --report of. commission, scottish universities. commissions, royal. --fisheries. --on science and art instruction. --on science. --on trawling. --fishery, of . common, t., letter to: --nietzsche: german work and style: morality and evolution. comparative anatomy, letter on. comte, criticism on. --would need re-writing. --typical of the century? comtism, defined as "catholicism without christianity". comtists, opinion of. --see also positivism. conditions, influence of. congreve, controversy with. controversy, opinion of. --and friendship. --exhilarating effect of. --aim of. --in self-defence. "controverted questions". --labour of writing the prologue. --elimination of the supernatural. cook (editor of "saturday review"). cooke, dr., his brother-in-law. --his first instruction in medicine. copley medal, awarded to huxley. corfield, r., on clifford's illness. cork, rejected for chair at. cornay, professor, acknowledgment from. cornu, professor, at x club. "cornu", the posterior. courtney, right hon. l., at royal society dinner. coventry, the house of thomas huxley. --george huxley returns to. craniology. cranks, letters from. crayfish, on the. creation, controversy on genesis --with mr. gladstone. criticism, a compliment. croonian lecture. cross, lord, letter to: vivisection commission. crowder, mrs., visit to. crum brown, professor, induces huxley to play golf. crustacea, paleozoic. culture, basis of. cunningham, on south american fossil. cuno, language and race. cuvier, his views controverted. --and his title. --appreciation of. cuvier, the british. dalgairns, father, in metaphysical society. dalhousie, lord, president royal commission on trawling. dana, and coral reef theories. --misunderstanding of darwin in his obituary of asa gray. daphnia. darwin, charles, likewise begins his career at sea. --as man of science. --saying about happiness and work. --starts on the "origin". --effect of the "origin". --the species question before . --the most serious omission in the "origin". --huxley his "general agent". --his "bulldog". --and his predecessors. --and poetry. --compared with lamarck. --and spontaneous generation. --at x club. --his opinion of dohrn. --his generosity. --"the cheeriest letter-writer i know." --letter to, obtaining a civil list pension for wallace. --death of. --notice of, in "nature". --love for. --intellect of. --obituary. --compared to gordon. --unveiling of statue. --character and friends. --influence in science. --exposition not his forte. --dumb sagacity of. --legacy from a. rich. --his theory needs experimental proof. --and natura non facit saltum. --typical of the century? --nature of his work. --example of. --defence of. --letters from: --the decisive critics of the "origin". --huxley's reservations in accepting the doctrine of the "origin". --on huxley's treatment of suarez' metaphysics: intellect of huxley. --conveys him a gift from his friends. --on new biological teaching. --on report of seance. --automatism. --letters to: --on the "origin". --edinburgh lectures. --the cambridge british association. --on "man's place": --atavism. --that his theory accounts for retrogression as well as progression. --pressure of work. --absorption in one kind of work, due to one's reputation and one's children. --"criticisms of the 'origin'". --copley medal. --difficulty of writing a book. --birth of a son: work in the "reader". --sends booklet. --darwinism in germany. --pangenesis. --laziness: hooker ill. --memorial about gallegos fossils. --new edition of "origin": jamaica affair. --on positivist critics. --visit from darwin. --no time to read. --loses sight of naturalists "by grace of the dredge." --south american fossils. --exeter british association. --societies: the celt question. --on oxford d.c.l. --on "descent of man and sexual selection". --inconvenience of having four addresses. --on a friend's illness. --note for the "descent of man": dohrn's station: projected visit to america. --w.g. ward's saying about mill. --report on spiritualistic seance. --attack in "quarterly". --on vivisection. --instructions for polar expedition. --on theological protest. --his degree at cambridge. --"coming of age" of the "origin". --cuts out a sharp retort. --on wallace's pension. --optimism and pessimism. darwin, mrs., visit to. darwin, miss e., on huxley's books. darwin, francis. --letter to, on the british association meeting of . --visit to. darwin, professor george, at seance. darwin tree, the. daubeny, dr., at oxford, . davies, rev. llewelyn, at huxley's funeral. dayman, lieutenant, formerly of the "rattlesnake". --on atlantic mud. de la beche, sir henry. de maillet. de quatrefages. deceased wife's sister bill. derby, lord. descartes' discourse, commentary on. design, argument from. devonian fishes. "devonshire man" controversy. dewar, professor, liquid oxygen. dingle, mr., at oxford, . diphtheria, outbreak of. docker, the scientific, letter to. --tries to help. --letter to: atoms and the evolution of matter. dog, on the. --projected work on. --problems connected with. --further work on. dohrn, dr. anton. --visit of. --visit from, in . --absent from naples on huxley's visit. --letters to: --matrimony: tennyson: his kindness to children. --scientific investigators and museum work: family news: criticism of kolliker. --calcutta museum: --kolliker and the organon adamantinae: family news. --a bad letter-writer: goethe's aphorisms: dohrn's work and english. --marine stations at naples and brighton: spontaneous generation: huxley, devil's advocate to speculators: a "tochtervolles haus." --british association at liverpool: franco-prussian war. --microscopes: franco-prussian war. --school board: "an optical sadowa." --illness of . --the visit to naples: ceylon museum. --beefsteaks and wives not to be despised. --ceylon museum: his father's illness: his capacity. --invitation to morthoe. --books for the aquarium. --the new laboratory. --england not represented at his station: visit from von baer: lawsuit: kleinenberg on hydra. --subscriptions for station: prefers his german to his english: hesitation. --his marriage: the station: darwin's generosity. --death of darwin and balfour. --naval officers and scientific research. --health: age: earning an honest sixpence. dohrn, dr., sen. --visit to, at naples. --vigour of. donnelly, sir john, k.c.b., visit to. --letters to: --vivisection. --fishery appointment. --title of dean: a wet holiday. --retired officers in administrative posts. --unofficial answer to official inquiries. --proposed resignation. --industry and age. --health: gordon. --reply to arguments against resignation. --extension of leave: festa of st. peter's chair. --coldness of rome: repression of dynamiters: roman noses. --gordon: public affairs: technical education: depression: carnival. --health. --return from italy. --civil list pension. --return in good health from arolla: renews work at science instead of theology. --science and art examinations. --age moderates hopes. --imperial institute. --the irish question. --glion: "javelins". --sends proof of struggle for existence. --deceased wife's sister bill: hatred of anonymity. --stonehenge: use of radicals: death of smyth. --move to eastbourne. --london university commission and reform. --the state and intermediate education. --responsible for the privy councillorship. --humour of public affairs. --the modern martyrdom. --faculty of forgetting. --the scientific docker. --death of tyndall. --letter from a lunatic. --a state evening party. --procrastination: the scientific docker: darwin medal. --women in public life. draper, dr. drawing, huxley's faculty for. dublin, ll.d., at. duncan, dr. matthews, visit to. du thiers, or duthiers (both forms of the signature occur in his letters), see lacaze. dyer, sir w. thiselton. --helps in the new science teaching. --lectures fur huxley. --to help in men of science series. --marine biological association. --letter from--gentian paper. dyster, dr. --letters to: --scientific calvinism. --introduction to kingsley and maurice. --refuses edinburgh chair: coast survey. --approaching marriage. --popular lectures. --man not a rational animal in his parental capacity. ealing. eastbourne, house at: law of nature about: origin of name. echinoderms. --on the development of. --aim of paper. "echo", article in. ecker, dr. a., on his ethnological work. eckersley, w., letter to: civil list pension. eckersley, w.a., death of. eckhard, dr. ectoderm and endoderm, discovery of. edinburgh, lectures at: --on the ape question. --on the physical basis of life. --fishery exhibition. --refuses an uncertain post at. --refuses to succeed forbes there. --natural history courses at. edinburgh university, hon. degree. edison, typical of the century? education. --the true end of. --secular. --intermediate, and the state. --scientific, for a boy. egerton, sir philip. --his museum. --visit to. --squib on the ape question. egyptian exploration. ehrenberg, suspects bathybius. eisig, assistant to dr. dohrn. "elementary physiology". --new edition. eliot, george. --proposed burial in westminster abbey. --stanley on. ellicott, bishop of gloucester, in metaphysical society. ellis, charles, with huxley in egypt. "emancipation, black and white." english literature, teaching of, letter on. english men of science series projected. enniskillen, lord. erasmus, opinion of. "erebus" and "terror", hooker on. erichssen, professor, on vivisection commission. ethnological society. --president of. --presidential address. --amalgamation of two societies. ethnology. --work on. --sir m. foster on. --systematic series of photographs. --definition of. --attention turned away from, in . eton. --new headmaster, and future of. --huxley a governor of. --examinations. europeans, alleged inferiority of senses in. evans, sir j. --on marine biological association. --letters to: --getting in harness a tonic: need of rest. --ravenna: takes up italian again. --work of royal society secretary. --a growl from italy. --description of pleurisy. --delay over "spirula" and darwin obituary. --copley medal: --geological congress: punnigrams. --pliocene and miocene man: language no test of race. --a forgotten subscription. evolution, article for "encyclopaedia". --lectures on, at new york. --demonstrative evidence of. --accumulation of evidence for. --laws of, applied to the arrangement of the vertebrata. --theory must have been invented by latter paleontologists. --illustrated by the pearly nautilus. --experimental. evolution and morality. "evolution of theology". evolutionary thought builds up as well as pulls down. examinership under science and art department. exodus, the real story of. eyre, governor. faith, the sin of. falconer, dr. hugh. family motto, tenax propositi. fanning, mrs. fanning, william. --his friend in sydney. --death of. fanning, f., visit to. faraday. --michael, interview with. --and titles. --influence in science. --the knowledge of popular audiences. farrar, dean. --on science in public schools. --at sion house meeting. farrar, rev. professor, account of the oxford british association. farrer, lord. --letters to: --official folly: fallacies tenacious of life. --fishery appointment. --gladstone controversy: ignorance of the so-called educated classes. --effect controversy on health. --the cassowary rhyme. --his elevation to the peerage: criticism of romanes lecture. --the devil prince of this cosmos: a priori reasoning: the established church and our simian origin: attack on the school board compromise. --the a priori method an anachronism: method of the political economists and eubiotics: growing hopefulness in age. --aim of the chapter in owen's "life": hint for an essay on government: london university reform. fawcett, professor, stays with. fayrer, sir joseph. --settles his career for him. --great anthropological scheme. --invites huxley to calcutta. --ethnological photographs. --letters to: --declines invitation to calcutta. --indian canidae. --the p.c.: career due to his suggestion. felixstowe. --visits. --mrs. huxley at. fichte. filhal, m., work on natural selection. fish, immature. fisheries. --appointed inspector of. --duties. --deep sea, require no protection. --salmon, protection, experiments. fisheries, report on. --old fallacies in reports. --experimental station at lamlash bay. fishery business. fishery exhibition. --lesson of. --at norwich. --at edinburgh. --in london. fishes, development of the skeleton in. fishmongers' company and education. fiske, john, visit to. fitzroy, admiral, darwinism and the bible. flood myth. flourens reviewed. flower, sir w.h. --on the simian brain at cambridge, . --on huxley's work for hunterian lectures. --curator of natural history collections. --character of. --kingsley should get to know him. --evolution and the church. --letters to: --examinership at college of surgeons: dijon museum. --hunterian lectures. --anatomy of the fox. --linacre professorship. --acceptance of p.r.s. --"ville qui parle," etc. --retirement. --refuges for the incompetent: civil service commissioners: treatment by the royal society. --promotion by seniority. --university reform. --the p.c.: salisbury p.c.'s received by gladstonians: kinds of pleurisy: official patronage: illness of owen. --owen's work. foote case. forbes, professor edward. --introduction to. --seemingly forgotten by. --visits: support from. --helps to f.r.s. --his pay. --goes to edinburgh. --life of the red lion club. --writes notice of huxley. --on huxley's views. --character of. --is succeeded by huxley. --death of. --letters from: --huxley's "rattlesnake" work. --on royal medal. --letters to: --royal medal. forbes, principal james. --structure of glaciers. --and tyndall. forel, professor, at arolla. forster, right hon. w.e. --on bible teaching. --vivisection at south kensington. --letter to. foster, sir m. --on the spirit of huxley's early inquiries. --on his "review of the cell theory". --and "theory of the vertebrate skull". --on the oxford meeting of the british association. --on huxley as examiner. --on his ethnological work. --takes over fullerian lectures. --on huxley's work on birds and reptiles. --on huxley as secretary of the royal society. --takes over his lectures. --helps in the new science teaching. --a new year's guest. --on huxley's work after . --with him at belfast. --to help in men of science series. --assists in preparing new edition of "elementary physiology". --and london university commission. --"discovery" of. --letters from: --retirement at sixty. --society at maloja. --letters to: --edinburgh lectures: vivisection: bathybius suspected. --official functions not his business in life. --successor to spottiswoode. --reluctance to divide the royal society over his election as president. --elected. --support of debateable opinions while p.r.s. --handwriting and anxiety. --holiday defined. --science and art examinations. --on senate of london university. --obituaries of f. balfour and darwin. --royal society anniversary. --egyptian exploration society. --new edition of "elementary physiology". --sensation. --resignation of p.r.s. --swine miracle. --health. --proofs: resignation: jeremiah and dyspepsia. --"vis inertiae". --ordered abroad. --venice. --november in italy. --papal rome: health. --depression: will turn antiquary: royal society secretary. --"elementary physiology", new edition: italian archaeology: visits the lincei. --preface to "elementary physiology": gordon's idea of future life: carnival. --birthday wishes: upshot of italian trip: looks forward to becoming a lodge-keeper: "elementary physiology" published. --returns home: continued ill-health. --impending retirement. --medical men and f.r.s. --social meetings of royal society. --science at oxford. --a scientific frankenstein. --visit to ilkley. --paleontological museum. --renewed ill-health: scientific federation: reorganisation of fisheries department. --rejection of home rule bill. --"huxley sulphide" at harrogate. --visit to arolla: death of a visitor: british association and australia: renewed desire for work. --transference of sensation: obstinate fictions of examinees. --delta borings: gentians, begs specimen: distribution of. --apology for intervention. --royal society and imperial institute committee. --science and art examinations. --pleurisy his jubilee honour. --convalescence: marine biological association. --arolla. --gentians and idleness. --the p.r.s. and politics. --at hastings: delta borings: antarctic exploration. --keeps his promise to speak at manchester, in spite of domestic loss. --technical education, address at manchester. --hooker's work on diatoms. --london university reform. --spirula: darwin obituary: "paper philosophers". --peculiar stage of convalescence: "challenger" reports. --darwin obituary finished: affection of the heart: an "unselfish request". --an amended paper compared to tristram shandy's breeches. --a successor in presidency of marine biological association. --darwin obituary satisfactory: spirula: death of matthew arnold. --open invitation to, as a friend of huxley. --at maloja: copley medal. --leaves maloja. --unable to effect a meeting. --return home from maloja. --compelled to live out of london: a cuttlefish of a writer. --climate of eastbourne and a priori reasoning. --children and anxiety: stays away from royal society dinner. --science and art examinations, syllabus: successor to huxley. --monte generoso: his health, sir h. thompson on. --opposition to technical education bill. --sends photograph: proposed trip to the canaries. --reviews of darwin, alpha and omega. --marriage and the wisdom of solomon. --booth business, a wolf by the ears: salvationists and spies. --physiology, part : name of house: a supposed ancestor and benefit of clergy. --maloja accessible to him only by balloon. --physiological omniscience. --unequal to public function. --physiology untrammelled at royal college of science. --senate of london university and reform. --privy councillorship, public functions and health. --sympathy for attack on. --romanes lecture: harvey celebration: symptoms of influenza. --weakness after influenza. --"nature" dinner. --award of darwin medal. --avoidance of influenza: gordon and the african fever. --joining the horticultural society. "foundations of belief", critique on. fox, george. --influence of. --as compared with franklin. francis, dr. william. franco-prussian war. frankland, sir edward. --letters to: --on x club. --spottiswoode's illness. --vigour of "old fogies": mentone earthquake. --habits of eels. --article on "struggle for existence". --on royal society federation scheme. franklin, b., influence compared with that of fox. free thought. --ultimate success of. --tone of some publications. fremantle, rev. w.h. --account of the oxford british association, . --controversy with, on bible teaching. french, knowledge of. froude, j.a. fullerian professorship, resignation. galbraith, leaves "natural history review". galileo and the pope. gallegos river, fossils at. galton, sir d., at x club. galton, f., on committee of the "reader". geary. gegenbaur, professor. geikie, sir a., sends proofs of the primer to. gemmation, lecture on. genesis. --controversy over. --renewed in "times". genius. --men of, a "sport". --as an explosive power. gentians. --study of, begun. --continued. "geological contemporaneity". "geological reform". geological society. --fellow of. --elected secretary. geological survey, work on. george, h., "progress and poverty". german, knowledge of. german speculation, research and style. "gigadibs". gilman, professor d.c. glacier ice, paper on. gladstone, professor j.h., account of huxley's work on the school board. gladstone, right hon. w.e. --and metaphysical society. --not an expert in metaphysics. --the greatest intellect in europe. --reaction from. --a graceful action. --function of. --attacks huxley in the "impregnable rock of holy scripture". --swine miracle. --and parnell. --typical of the century? --controversy with, on genesis. --estimate of. --letter on--the ordeal of public criticism. --revived by others. --second controversy with. goethe. --quoted. --on "thatige skepsis". --his aphorisms translated for the first number of "nature". --scientific insight of. golf, huxley plays. goodsir, dr. john, as man of science. gordon, c.g. --ideas and character. --why he did not have the african fever. gordon, g.w., executed by eyre. gore, canon. gosse, edmund, anonymous reviewers. gould, f.j., letters to. grant, dr. --introduction to. --as man of science. --an early evolutionist. grant (friend of dr. dohrn). grant duff, sir m. --letter from: --possibilities of a political career for huxley. --lord rector of aberdeen. granville, lord. --letter from: --appoints huxley on london university senate: anecdote of clay, the whist player. --a master of polished putting down. gray, asa, misunderstanding of darwin. --appreciation of. gray, j.e. --introduction to. --support from. --a zoological whirlwind. green, j.r., account of huxley's speech at oxford. green, t.h. green, of leeds, to help in men of science series. greene, professor r. gregory, sir w.h. --with, in egypt. --governor of ceylon. greswell, rev. richard. grey, albert, m.p., letter to, on home rule. griffith, mr., secretary british association. grote, george, and titles. grove, sir g., a criticism. gull, sir w., and f.r.s. gunther, dr. gutzlaff, saying of. haeckel, professor ernst. --his gastraea theory, dependent on huxley's discoveries. --darwinism in germany. --unable to attend british association, . --and bathybius. --letters to: --on reading "die radiolarien". --dissuades him from joining arctic expedition: darwinism: philological evidence in ethnology. --on his "morphologie": controversy. --marriage: classification of birds: handwriting. --von baer's copley: reptiles and birds. --translation of his "morphologie": influence of children. --notice of the "anthropogenie": attack on darwin in the "quarterly": amphioxus and the primitive vertebrate. --"rattlesnake" "collection": his "medusae" unpublished: crayfish: spirula: his children. hahn, father, reminiscences of huxley's impartiality in teaching. hamilton, on the unconditioned. hand, lecture on. harcourt, sir w., letter to, suppression of physiological experiment. hardwicke, printer. harrison, f. --in metaphysical society. --attacks agnosticism. --controversy with: the "apologetic irenicon". --attack of, philosophically borne. harrison, j. letter to: science and agriculture. hartington, lord. --science should be aided like the army and navy. --technical education. --letter to: deceased wife's sister bill. hartismere, lord, vivisection bill. harvey. --lecture on. --article on. --tercentenary. haughton, professor s., leaves "natural history review". hay, sir john, visit to, at tangier. head, francis, "javelins". healy, t., and parnell. heathorn, henrietta anne (see mrs. t.h. huxley). --engagement. --description of. --remote prospect of marriage. --arrives in england. heathorn, mrs. helmholtz. helps, sir a. henslow, professor. --death of. --relation to darwin. herring. --memoir on. --experiments as to the spawning of. --address on. herschel, sir john. hesitation, no good ever done by. hippocampus. hird, dr., presents testimonial to. hirst, thomas archer. --and x club --character of. --royal medal. --illness of. --death of. histology, work on. historical society of lancashire and cheshire, presentation to huxley. hobhouse, lord, huxley secures intellectual freedom. hockenhull, swanus de, ancestor of the family of huxley. holiday, work. --borne well. --definition of. holland, sir henry, on plato. home rule, letter to a. grey. hooker, sir j.d., his case a precedent. --at ipswich. --at his marriage. --on snowdon with. --relations with darwin. --on species. --at oxford, . --origin of friendship with. --remonstrates with huxley on excursions into philosophy. --x club. --clubs not for the old. --with huxley in brittany. --president british association. --with huxley in the eifel. --presentation to, at liverpool. --on huxley's intellect. --trouble with official chief. --account of trip to the auvergne. --receives order of the pole star. --on belfast meeting of british association. --unable to write obituary of darwin. --p.r.s. --vigour of. --his treatment by government. --friendship with. --royal society's medal. --huxley's love of the garden. --letters from: --on his work on micro-organisms. --dana's obituary of gray. --letters to: --his selection for the royal medal. --e. forbes. --his approaching marriage. --submerged forest. --british museum collections. --science in the "saturday review". --glacier paper. --swiss trip. --election to imp. acad. caes.: fullerian lectures. --on criticism. --approaching "augustan age" of english science. --on his "flora of tasmania". --on naturalists' fund. --on "times" review of the "origin". --on the ape question. --on "punch" squib. --his absence: edinburgh lectures. --huxley's address at geological society. --working-men's lectures, : "natural history review". --future leaders of science. --christening. --on "natural history review" and materialists. --illness and death of henslow. --move to kew: a poor client. --science examinations. --pressure of work. --science and art department examinations. --darwin's copley medal. --on x club. --medical men and f.r.s. --distribution of gentians. --darwin and the "quarterly" reviewers: chance and atheism. --death of symonds: gentians. --the p.r.s. and politics. --his copley medal. --technical education address at manchester. --distribution of coniferae. --visit from h. spencer. --trustee of the british museum: story about lowe: difficulty of the "origin". --on dana's obituary of asa gray: difficulty of the "origin": primer of darwinismus. --x club breaking up. --affection of the heart: moseley's breakdown. --darwin obituary: possible senility. --hybridism of gentians. --visit from, before leaving london. --a nomadic life or none: deafness: botanist should study distribution in the engadine. --copley medal: friendship and saltwater experiences. --x archives: a "household animal of value". --deceased wife's sister question. --raison d'etre of clubs. --applied science and the royal society. --academy dinner: portrait of hooker. --monte generoso: called an old gentleman: anxieties about children when grown up: x club subscription. --return from maloja. --orchids and the influence of conditions: balfour and r. c. university for ireland. --possibility of becoming a pamphleteer. --proposed trip to canaries. --linnean medal: trip to the canaries. --quietude of mind impossible, theologians keep him occupied. --abuse over salvation army affair. --carpenter's "first three gospels": varieties of pleurisy: parnell. --parnell and his followers. --sick of controversy: gladstone and his guides. --mr. rich's legacy: seeks portrait of john richardson. --visits to tyndall and mrs. darwin. --french translation of essays on darwinism. --the privy councillorship: only remaining object of ambition. --influenza and the x. --funeral of hirst. --x club. --his grandchild on grown-up people and trouble. --his sense of duty: death of bowman. --owen's work: hume and "being made a saint of". --warning against overwork and influenza. --at maloja: boys and their accidents: collects essays: writes chapter in owen's "life": illness of friends. --tyndall's death: reminiscences. --the antarctic continent: reminiscences of tyndall: friendly words. --chapter on owen: a piece of antiquity. --british association at oxford, . --darwin medal and "nature" dinner. --public speaking: a tenth volume of essays projected: returns to philosophy: greek and english. --cause of giving up dissecting work: character of r. strachey: brian and the brine. --on pithecanthropus. --illness and constitutional toughness: spencer and "pour le merite". --reassures him against the pessimistic reports of his health. hooker, sir william. horner, leonard. horse. --evolution of. --pedigree of. --recent additions to our knowledge of the pedigree of. howard, cardinal. howell, george, m.p. --letter to: --"a man who did his best to help the people": technical education. howes, professor g.b. --helps in the new science teaching. --extends text-book. --on huxley's drawings at south kensington. --unpublished work, appendix . --reminiscences. --description of his lectures. --letter to: the scientific docker. hubrecht, professor a., impression of huxley. hull, lectures at. humboldt, receives a royal medal. hume. --book on. --his nearest approach to a work of fiction. hume. --on miracles. --his philosophical diamonds require setting. --on impossibilities. humphry, dr., darwin's ll.d. hunterian lectures. --lectures the basis of his "manual of comparative anatomy". --resigns. hutton, r.h. --on vivisection commission. --and vivisection. huxley, eliza. see scott, mrs. huxley, ellen, marries dr. cooke. huxley, george, of wyre hall. huxley, george, sen. --at ealing. --returns to coventry. huxley, mrs. george, senior (rachel withers), mother of t.h. huxley. --description of. --love for. --her death. --letters to: --accommodation at sea. --rio. --mauritius. --description of miss heathorn. --port essington. --announcing his return. huxley, george, jun. --in pyrenees with. --lives with, for a time. --death of. huxley, mrs. george, jun. huxley, h., letter to, on his engagement. huxley, james edmund. huxley, jessie o. see also waller, mrs. huxley, l. --letters to: --on winning a scholarship. --fishery appointment. --on mastership of university college, oxford. --assassination of lord f. cavendish. --pagan and papal rome. --teaching of history: siena. --system at eton: lake district defence society. --hon. committee of french teachers. --will not write on politics. --salvation army: mr. sidgwick's rebuke to the "speaker". --on building a house. --on his twenty-first birthday. huxley, noel, death of. huxley, samuel. huxley, mrs. t.h. (see also h.a. heathorn). --his chief critic. --letters to: --draws the sword. --his lodgings. --help from burnett. --successes. --an unequal struggle. --resolves to stay in london. --british association at ipswich. --jealousy of his rise. --royal medal. --succeeds forbes. --post at school of mines. --coast survey and edinburgh chair. --his future career. --aberdeen address. --on british association, belfast. --lord shaftesbury. --edinburgh lectures. --second summer in edinburgh. --american trip. --scottish university commission. --spring in edinburgh. --article in the "echo". --bright's speeches. --greatness of reaumur: speech on darwin's ll.d. --professor marsh's arrival. --fishery duties. --international medical congress. --proposed resignation. --his stay at ilkley. --publication of "science and morals". --effect of ilkley. --from savernake. --from the canaries. --ceremony of kissing hands, as p.c. --good health in . huxley, thomas, grandfather of t.h. huxley. huxley, t. h., incident at his birth. --his mother, likeness to. --devotion to. --his childhood. --faculty for drawing. --school-days. --early studies. --blood-poisoning. --learns german. --boyish journal. --at rotherhithe. --impressed by social problems. --studies botany. --wins a medal. --at charing cross hospital. --his first discovery. --interview with faraday. --career determined by fayrer and ransom. --enters the navy. --joins the "rattlesnake". --his life on the "rattlesnake". --crossing the line. --at madeira. --rio. --the first fruits of the voyage. --at the cape. --mauritius. --sydney. --engaged to be married. --importance of his work on the medusae. --among the australian aborigines. --with kennedy. --writes "science at sea". --leaves australia. --impression of missionaries in new zealand. --at the falklands. --position in navy. --returns home. --scientific recognition of. --early friends in london. --difficulties. --elected f.r.s. --misses the royal medal. --dealings of the government with, about his "rattlesnake" work. --leaves the navy. --list of early papers. --stands for various professorships. --writes for the "westminster review". --delivers the fullerian lectures. --succeeds forbes. --describes the scientific world of . --jealousy of. --his first lecture. --receives the royal society's medal. --morning incapacity. --people he can deal with. --lives by his pen. --obtains a post in the school of mines. --and on the geological survey. --openness of dealing with his friends, hooker and forbes. --carpenter. --about a rejected memoir. --refuses uncertain position at edinburgh. --prefers a scientific career in london. --his principle of "having a row at starting". --marriage. --early work on the invertebrata interrupted. --paleontological work. --british museum collections. --on the value of a hundred a year. --tries to organise a scientific review (see "natural history review"). --his wish to become a physiologist. --writes on the cell theory and the skull. --ill-health during the fifties. --tour in switzerland. --ascends mont blanc. --work on glaciers. --apparent desultoriness of his earlier work. --balance-sheet of work in . --begins the systematic consultation of foreign writers. --recognition abroad. --birth of his son noel. --his aim in life. --death of his son. --position in . --ambition. --translation and lecturing. --money and marriage. --paleontology and anatomy. --loss of priority through delay of "oceanic hydrozoa". --his personal contributions to science. --effect on him of the "origin". --"anti-progressive confession of faith". --one of the decisive critics of the "origin". --"general agent" to darwin. --nature of his support of darwin. --as darwin's bulldog --descent of man. --takes up ethnology. --his philosophy of life. --love of philosophy. --early life. --moves to abbey place. --his handwriting. --on matrimony. --children. --"happy family". --fondness for music. --health. --expedition to switzerland. --hunterian lectures. --the british museum and controversy. --exhilarating effect of controversy. --not inconsistent with friendship. --reputation. --ethnological work. --vein of laziness. --appealed to on point of honour. --science course for international college. --on indian anthropological scheme. --edinburgh degree. --the writing of elementary books. --"elementary physiology". --incident at a working-men's lecture. --trip to brittany. --anecdote of the cerebellum. --on "eating the leek". --rapidity of thought. --influence of his style. --the moralities of criticism. --a good book and fools. --turning-point in his career, . --popular view of, about . --effect of "lay sermons". --growing pressure of official work. --dubbed "pope" by the "spectator". --on evolution of the horse. --influence of descartes, and scientific calvinism. --visits the eifel. --his degree of d.c.l. opposed. --president british association. --work on micro-organisms and spontaneous generation. --continued work on micro-organisms. --on savagery. --visits the slums. --presentation to. --commerce the civiliser. --attacks on his address. --stands for the school board. --his programme. --opposes proposal to open meetings with prayer. --on education committee. --religious and secular teaching. --letters on the compromise and an "incriminated lesson". --report of education committee. --speech on ultramontanism. --his lasting influence. --impression on fellow-workers. --examinations. --extra subjects. --monetary assistance offered, to remain on school board. --sacrifices involved in. --urged to stand for parliament. --secretary of the royal society. --and appendix . --on "challenger" committee. --science teaching for teachers. --continues his educational campaign. --ideal of a state church. --titles for men of science. --edits science primers. --microscopes. --at st. andrews. --holiday work. --plays golf. --on strong language. --breakdown of . --help of friends. --examines stores at gibraltar. --at tangier. --in egypt. --further treatment. --new teaching in biology. --view of. --changes the course. --writes "elementary instruction in biology". --new house in marlborough place. --lawsuit. --loan from tyndall. --mixed classes in anatomy. --lord rector of aberdeen. --trip to the auvergne. --as travelling companion. --geological work. --letters on. --learns to smoke. --order of the pole star. --a paternal gander. --his reputation and the part he has to play in the world. --scientific work after . --precious half-hours. --duty of fulfilling a promise. --attends presbyterian service. --at belfast british association. --on "grasping the nettle". --feeling about vivisection. --grouse-murder. --natural history courses at edinburgh. --suspects himself of cowardice. --expectation of his visit in america. --a second honeymoon. --position in the world of thought. --tugs in new york harbour. --prefers the contents of a university to the buildings. --old opinions and new truth. --at niagara. --meets his sister again. --an address under difficulties. --lectures on evolution. --prophecies fulfilled. --the two things he really cares about. --posthumous fame. --ingrained laziness the bane of his existence. --speech on darwin's ll.d. at cambridge. --help to a distressed man of science. --"bottled life". --politics in . --projected introductions to zoology, mammalia, anthropology, and psychology. --engrossed in the invertebrates. --affected by his daughter's illness. --rationality and the parental capacity. --traces diphtheria. --learns greek. --governor of eton college. --makes drawing part of the curriculum. --attends no society except the royal and zoological. --fifty-three a youthful age. --resigns presidency of association of liberal thinkers. --ll.d. at cambridge. --becomes a "person of respectability". --"eats the leek" over bathybius. --advantages of breaking a leg. --faith in natural selection. --"pretty fanny's way". --optimism and pessimism. --friendship and criticism. --further involved in official duties. --inspector of fisheries. --salary. --duties of inspectorship described. --conduct of meetings. --as a companion. --as a writer. --as a speaker. --life uninfluenced by idea of future recompense. --a child's criticism on. --refuses to go to oxford as linacre professor. --or master of university college. --debt to carlyle. --health in . --his title of dean. --his nunc dimittis postponed by death of f. balfour. --his notion of a holiday. --queer correspondents. --table talk of, in . --presented with the freedom of the salters. --president royal society. --qualifications for. --reluctance to accept. --or create division in the society. --or to commit it to debateable opinions. --art of governing the headstrong. --a record in cab-driving. --effect of anxiety on handwriting. --holiday defined. --composition of a presidential address. --confesses himself to tyndall. --the thought of extinction. --"faded but fascinating". --increasing ill-health. --gives up anatomy. --looks forward to an "indian summer". --re-reads the "decline and fall". --rumoured acceptance of a title. --getting into harness as a tonic. --ordered abroad. --takes up italian again. --papal and pagan rome. --a decayed naturalist, will turn antiquarian. --radicals and arbitrary acts. --not roused even by prospect of a fight. --moral courage and picture galleries. --retires from public life. --illness makes him shirk responsibility. --at filey. --medicinal effect of a book on miracles. --science and creeds. --intention to revise work on the mollusca. --writes "from the hut to the pantheon". --at ilkley. --his career indirectly determined by dr. ransom's overworking. --visit to arolla. --effect of. --second visit to arolla. --begins study of gentians. --theological work, a sort of crib-biting. --death of a visitor at arolla, memento of him. --his boyhood and education compared with spencer's. --administrative insight. --his only sixpence earned by manual labour. --attack of pleurisy. --science and art department examinership. --reply to the duke of argyll on pseudo-science. --on coral reef theories. --thinks of retiring to shanklin. --at savernake. --"an episcopal trilogy". --acknowledgment of error. --letter on murray's theory of coral reefs. --his own share in the work of science. --speculation and fact. --honorary committee of french teachers. --supports free library for marylebone. --on titles of honour. --the irish question. --the philosophy of age, "lucky it's no worse". --death of his second daughter. --paper philosophers. --trustee of british museum. --consolation for age in past service. --the stimulus of vanity. --depression. --recovery at the maloja. --renewed work on gentians. --receives copley medal. --a centre of society at maloja. --receives a futile "warning". --refuges for the incompetent. --battles not to be multiplied beyond necessity. --a "household animal of value". --appearance of, in . --works at the limit of his powers. --marriage of his youngest daughter. --hatred of anonymity. --settles at eastbourne. --controversy on agnosticism. --aim in controversy. --and in philosophy. --on suffering fools gladly. --his autobiographical sketch. --superiority of the male figure. --alcohol. --clericalism. --second visit to maloja. --returns to eastbourne. --led to write on social questions. --manner of work. --practical results of wrong thinking. --marriage and the wisdom of solomon. --trip to canaries. --ulysses and penelope. --receives linnean medal. --the flood myth. --dislike to moving. --reply to dr. abbott. --quietude of mind impossible. --on ethnological questions possesses the impartiality of a mongrel. --pertinacity. --sends books to royal college of science. --rational and irrational certainty. --his aim, truth in all things. --new house completed through mr. rich's legacy. --visits huxley hall. --almost indecent to be so well again. --his garden. --warns younger generation that the battle is only half won. --essays translated into french. --love for his native tongue. --party politics and unionism. --a scholar, not a leader of a sect. --backwoodsman's work. --a full life suggests more than negative criticism. --creation and providence. --ethics of evolution. --underlying truths of many theological teachings. --moral aspiration and the hope of immortality. --the world and comfortable doctrines. --president of london university reform association. --administration. --appears before london university commission. --heads deputation to prime minister. --opposes creation of an established church scientific. --letter on scientific aspirations. --on free thought ribaldry. --made a privy councillor. --the title of right hon. --official recognition on leaving office. --visit to osborne. --a friend's second marriage. --friendship and funerals. --the modern martyrdom. --source of his ill-health. --faculty of forgetting. --on sacramental food. --poem on tennyson's funeral. --a religion for men. --funerals. --his part in the memorial to owen. --on bearing attacks. --proposed working-men's lectures on the bible. --testimony and the marvellous. --manx mannikins. --home pets. --payment for work out of the ordinary. --on dying by inches. --the approach of death. --description of his personality in lankester's review of the "collected essays". --letter from a lunatic. --a contretemps at a public dinner. --at oxford, . --criticism of lord salisbury. --repeated in "nature". --deafness. --growing hopefulness in age. --receives darwin medal. --speech. --his "last appearance on any stage". --characterises his work for science. --late liking for public speaking. --slovenly writing in science. --lifelong love of philosophy. --the abysmal griefs of life. --brilliancy of talk just before his last illness. --a meeting with a priest. --writes article on "foundations of belief". --proofreading. --his last illness. --passion for veracity. --absence of dogmatism in lectures. --children and theology. --"royal lies". --his great work, securing freedom of speech. --carelessness of priority. --recognition of predecessors. --honesty. --loyalty. --friends and intimates. --practical side of his work. --how regarded by working-men. --his face described, by professor osborn. --by sir w. besant. --his lectures described. --preparation for his lectures. --ordinary day's work. --method. --reading. --memory for facts, not words. --delight in literature and art. --foreign languages. --recreations. --table talk of. --the happiness of others. --simian characteristics of infants. --difficulties of disproof and direct evidence. --"cock lane and common sense". --transient influence of false assertions. --movement of modern philosophy. --plato. --geographical teaching. --greeks and jews. --his part in controversy. --responsibility. --dramatic and literary faculties. --french and english artists. --human nature described. --his manner of conversation. --anecdotes from. --home life: relations with his children. --and grandchildren. --nonsense letters. --a day's work in later life. --love of his garden. --the "lodger". --sustaining power of a wife's comradeship. --field botany. huxley hall. --visit to. huxley island. huxley laboratory. huxley's layer. iddesleigh, lord, letter to: civil list pension. idols, tendency to make. ilkley, at. "illustrious", h.m.s., ordered to join. immortality. immortality and the conservation of energy. imperial institute. impromptu speaking. incapacity, machinery needed to facilitate its descent. india. --proposed visit to. --the shortest way home from. indian empire. individuality, animal. --lecture on. induction, and babbage's calculating machine. intellects, english and italian the finest. international college. --science at. international medical congress. invertebrata, lectures on. ireland, interest in. irish affairs. --parnell's retirement. --the cause of all irish trouble. --reason for being a unionist. irving, sir henry, visit from. italian. italy, visit to. --moral of. jamaica committee. james, margaret, grandmother of t.h. huxley. jamieson, professor e. jean paul, "biography of the twins". jebb, professor, on erasmus. jenner, and f.r.s. jewsbury, miss, friendship with. jex blake, miss. --letters to: --on medical education for women. --about her examination. jodrell, t.j.p. --good advice. --at x club. --wishes huxley to visit india. "john inglesant" suggests a scientific novel. johns hopkins university, inaugural address at. jones, rymer. jones, wharton. --influence of his teaching. --comes to his first lecture. joule, dr., his work for science. jowett, b. --silence during opposition to d.c.l. for huxley. --visit from. --power of the priesthood. --last illness of. --letter to: science at oxford. judd, professor, theories of coral reefs. kalisch, dr., zoological part of his "commentary on leviticus" revised. karslake, sir j.b., on vivisection commission. kelvin, lord, on huxley's work in support of darwinism. kennedy, e.b., his expedition. kerville, h.g. de. --letter to: "causeries sur le transformisme": lamarck: atheism. kidd, b., on social evolution. king, clarence, letter to, on marsh's collections. king's college, london, rejected for chair at. kingsley, charles. --first meeting with. --opinion of newman. --letters to: --on his son noel's death: his philosophy. --on species and sterility: anthropomorphism. --intellect in man and animals: genius a "sport": christian dogmas criticised. --matter and spirit. --on prayer. --royal institution lecture: superstitions of men of science: working-men's lectures: original sin and darwinism: whales. --on jamaica affair. --on comte. kingsley, miss, letters from charles kingsley. kitton, j.g., letter to: home pets. klein, dr. kleinenberg, dr., on hydra. knowles, james. --a founder of metaphysical society. --letters to: --toning down a controversial article. --reply to condolence on his daughter's death: a loyal friend. --article on the "struggle for existence": how to kill humbug. --reply to kropotkin. --refuses to write a public reply. --article on "natural inequality of men". --a telegram and a telegraph boy. --article on "agnosticism". --accused of calling christianity sorry stuff: help to the new reformation. --christ and christianity: cloister scheme. --printers' errors. --aim in controversy: named as a temperate blasphemer: demonology: development. --reviling morally superior to not reviling. --explanation with bishop magee ends controversy. --the last word: miracle of cana: newman. --supposed payment for "nineteenth century" articles. --suggestion of article on "foundations of belief": difference from spencer's views. --the first instalment of the article. --the "art d'etre grandpere". --divides the article. --work against time on proofs. --rest of article postponed through influenza. --on friendship. kolliker, professor r.a. --corresponds with. --translation of his "histology". --reviewed. --criticism of. kowalesky. --his discoveries dependent on those of huxley. --on ascidians. krohn, anticipates his work on salpa. lacaze duthiers, dr. --corresponds with. --on his handwriting. ladder, from the gutter to the university. laing, s., on agnosticism. laishly, r., cites huxley on secular teaching. lake district defence society. lamarck. --early study of. --darwin's theory not a modification of his. --but an advance on. --appreciation of. --not forgotten in england. lamlash bay, naturalists' station at. lang, andrew, "cock lane and common sense". language, italian. language and race. lankester, dr., secretary ray society. lankester, professor e. ray. --on huxley's "review of the cell theory". --with him at naples. --illness of. --on rolleston's science teaching. --helps in the new science teaching. --describes lectures. --at dohrn's station. --review of huxley's "collected essays". --impression of him. --letters to: --lymnaeus as periwinkles. --battles, like hypotheses, not to be multiplied beyond necessity. --immature fish. --pasteur's treatment for rabies. --report of pasteur meeting. --science school at oxford: trouble over booth affair. --ideal of a modern university. latham, dr. r.g. --stands for registrarship at london university. --on the existence of the established church. lathrop, mr. and mrs., meeting with. latin and culture. latin fetish. latin in board schools. latin verses. laugel, a.a. --at x club. --meeting with. law, abuse of the word. lawrence, lord. --president of school board. --on huxley's retirement. --leaves school board. lawrence, sir william. --his book "on man". --acknowledgment of "elementary physiology". "lay sermons". --published. --popularity of. lecky, w.e.h. --letters to: --on hume: needless assertions and blunders. --treatment of irish history. --books from: irish leaders. lectures. --at birmingham. --at bradford. --on a piece of chalk. --croonian. --on cuttlefish. --at edinburgh. --fullerian. --on the hand. --hunterian. --introductory, to the course at the school of mines. --on invertebrate anatomy, in "medical times". --at leicester. --london institution. --persistent types. --relation of man to the lower animals. --royal institution. --at school of mines. --to working men. --at zoological gardens. lecturing, warnings about his early style. leighton, sir f., and literary honours. leuckart, professor, letter to: morphological work. lewald, fanny, autobiography of. liberal education. liberal thinkers, association of. lichfield, native place of thomas huxley. liddon, canon. --abuse of the word "law". --sermon on "law" leads to article on pseudo-scientific realism. --sermon in reply to "lux mundi" occasion of "the lights of the church and the light of science". life, compared to a whirlpool. lilly, w.s., replies to. linnean medal awarded to huxley. linnean society, elected to. "literary gazette", notice of huxley in. littlehampton. littre, "life of comte". liverpool. --address before the philomathic society. --address before liverpool institute. --president british association at. --visit to slums. --moral influence of commerce. lockyer, sir norman, science editor of the "reader". logical consequences defined. london hospital, address at. london institution, lectures at, on physiography. london university. --examiner at. --science examinations at. --on senate of. london university reform. louisiade archipelago. lourdes, miracle of. lowe, robert (lord sherbrooke). --thinks huxley should be at the head of the natural history collections. --wishes him to be trustee of the british museum. lubbock, sir john (lord avebury). --at oxford, . --joins x club. --with huxley in brittany. --presentation to, at liverpool. lucas, mr., and the "times" review of the "origin". lucretius. "lux mundi", controversy raised by. lyell, sir charles. --article on, by owen. --reads the "origin" before publication. --influence of the "principles of geology". --supports darwin. --leads huxley to take up ethnology. --on editing the "natural history review". --opinion of huxley. --description of his address at the geological society. --letters from: --on popular lectures. --to sir c. bunbury, species question. --letters to: --on species. --on skull measuring. --on "man's place". --reply to criticisms as to the simian brain: darwin shows a vera causa for evolution. --simian brain. --on women's education. --on labyrinthodonts. --work on fossils, especially from spitzbergen. lynton, holiday at. macclesfield, samuel huxley mayor of, in . macgillivray, john. macleay, william sharp. --letter to, on english scientific world. m'clure, rev. e. --letter to: motive to get at the truth in all things: immortality and the conservation of energy: thought as a "function" of the brain: origin of sin. macwilliam, dr., f.r.s. madeira. magee, bishop. --controversy with. --end of. malins, vice-chancellor, remarks on the suit brought against huxley. mallock, w.h., on bathybius. maloja. --first visit to. --second visit to. --third visit to. --memorial at. manning, cardinal, in metaphysical society. "man's place in nature". --criticisms and success of. --a friend begs him not to publish. --ridiculed. mansel, rev. h.l. mantell, g.a. "manual of comparative anatomy". "manual of invertebrate anatomy". "manual of vertebrate anatomy". marine biological association. mariner, on tonga. marsh, professor o.c. --at x club. --visit to. --on huxley's impartiality. --supplies anecdote on advantage of breaking a leg. --letter from: on huxley's welcome to him in england. --letters to: --pedigree of the horse. --later discoveries. --his inexhaustible boxes. --arrival in england. marshall, mr., of buffalo, visit to. martin, h.n. --helps in the new science teaching. --helps write "elementary instruction in biology". --american edition of the "practical biology". martineau, james, in metaphysical society. mary, queen of scots. maskelyne, neville story. mason college, opening of. masson, david. --at x club. materialism. --accusation of. --a sort of shorthand idealism. maurice, f.d. --first meeting with. --and the working men's college. --his philosophy. --in metaphysical society. maxwell, colonel. may, george anderson. may, mrs., letter to: ill-health in youth. mayer, dr., assistant to dr. dohrn. mayer. j.r., on conservation of energy. mayne, captain of the "nassau". medical education. --correspondence in "times". --letter on preliminary liberal training. --degrees. men of science, the risks to be faced by. mercers' company and technical education. metaphysical society. --foundation of. --mill's criticism of. --mutual toleration. --huxley writes three papers for. --the name "agnostic". --his part in it. --described by professor h. sidgwick. miklucho-maclay, on fish-brains. milford, at. mill, j.s. --and international college. --opinions condemned by ward. --burial of. miller, canon, on huxley's retirement from the school board. milman, canon, invites huxley to opening of new buildings at sion college. miracles. --paper on. --agrees with orthodox arguments against hume. --swine. --miracles not denied as impossible. mivart, professor st. g. --his statements about suarez criticised. --reminiscences. --description of huxley's lectures. --letter to: --darwin's character and friends: galileo and the pope. moleschott. mollusca, on the morphology of the cephalous. --aim of this paper. moral sense. morality and nature. morley, right hon. john. --at x club. --in metaphysical society. --letter from: on his "physiography". --letters to: --proposed book on hume: article for the "fortnightly". --a "consistent bigamist" in writing for the magazines. --possible cowardice in not publishing paper on miracles. --on "physiography". --article for the "fortnightly": "dr. dizzy" on sea air: darwin's ll.d. --invites him for new year's day. --harvey article: controversy: foreign politics and the british lion. --hume: portrait: tulloch's "pascal": clifford's character. --thanks for "diderot": want of a portrait: sketch of the "hume": hume not half a sceptic. --the "setting of hume's diamonds": cannot judge his work in manuscript. --working on the life. --morley's criticism: division of the book. --a critical symposium, proposed english men of science series. --on spottiswoode. --a newcastle society: the thought of extinction. --proposed book on berkeley. morley, samuel, on school board. motto of the family, "tenax propositi". moulton, f., to help in men of science series. "mr. darwin's critics". muir, dr. john. muller, fritz. muller, johannes. --on holothuriae. --his method. --appreciation of. muller, professor max, letter to: on language as test of race. mundella, right hon. a.j. --and technical education. --letter to: retiring pension. murchison, sir roderick impey. --and experimental station. --and the schlagintweits. --and geological amateur. --on the "physical basis of life". --letter from: --on election to athenaeum. murray, john, on quarterlies. murray, sir j., theory of coral reefs. museum of practical geology. --post at. --catalogue for. museum, paleontological, ideal of. museums. --british. --manchester. --chester. --warwick. napier, sir charles. --described. napoleon iii., at the british association. nares, sir g., polar expedition. nashville visited. "nassau", h.m.s., exploring ship. national association of science teachers, resigns presidency. natura non facit saltum not true in evolution. "natural history review". natural selection. --not weak of faith in. --unlucky substitution of "survival of the fittest" for. --produces state socialism. naturalists' fund. "nature". --translates goethe's "aphorisms" for the first number. --article "past and present," on twenty-fifth anniversary. --after-dinner speech. nautilus. naval officers and scientific research. neanderthal skull. necessity. nettleship, r.l., at arolla. newcastle, joins a society at. newman, j.h. --applied to for testimonial. --his doctrine of development. --kingsley's opinion of. --cited by huxley. --effect on, of papistry. --how to turn his attacks. newport, george. --as man of science. newton, e.t., paleontologist to the geological survey. newton, sir isaac. --compared with ptolemy. --a "sport," --and his title. niagara. nicholas, dr., master of ealing school. nicholson, dr., of sydney. nietzsche, means to read. nordenskiold, fossils from spitzbergen. northumberland, duke of (first lord of the admiralty). norwich, fishery exhibition at. oakley, sir herbert, vicar of ealing. objects of the sea-shore, letters on. "oceanic hydrozoa". --loses priority by delay. --still of use in . officers, retired, in administrative posts. official work. --growth of. --climax of. oken, his speculations. oliver, professor. opinions which cannot be held "without grave personal sin". optimism. "origin of species". --effect of its publication. --"a flash of light". --review in "times". --criticism on the. --influence of. --"coming of age" of. --difficulty of. --and theory of evolution. original sin and darwinism. orthodox christianity, how regarded by many men of science. osborn, professor henry fairfield. --reminiscences quoted. --account of huxley at oxford, . --description of his lectures. --impromptu lecturing. --simian characteristics of infants, story of huxley. ossory, mr., with huxley in egypt. owen, sir richard. --introduction to. --visits. --supports claims of huxley. --at the geological club. --his pay. --as man of science. --his "parthenogenesis". --civility of. --support for f.r.s. --breach with. --at aberdeen british association. --his morphological speculations. --the british cuvier. --style of, on the ape question at oxford. --at cambridge british association. --on air-cells of birds in flight. --criticises darwin on spontaneous generation. --author of article on "oken and the 'archetype'". --his books to be asked for by dohrn. --attack on hooker. --mrs. carlyle's saying about. --death of. --statue to. --review of his work: a piece of antiquity. --review of, in "nature". owens college. --governor of. --opening of. oxford. --compared with london. --huxley refuses linacre professorship. --invited to accept linacre professorship a second time. --invited to be master of university college. --receives d.c.l. --science at. --letter on chair of english literature. --addresses at, a contrast. oysters, on. paget, sir james. --address from, at medical congress. --supports london university reform. paleontology, work at. --"the method of paleontology". --rise and progress of. --would have led to invention of evolutionary hypothesis. paley, "evidences", and argument from design. "pangenesis". pantheon, admiration of. parker, t. jeffery. --on huxley and the practical teaching of biology. --teaching by types. --persuades him to change course of teaching. --and to alter biological course. --"encyclopaedia" work between h and l. --impression of huxley. --as administrator. --as lecturer. --with his children. --letter to: --book dedicated to him: renewed vigour: "cultivons notre jardin" the whole duty of man. parker, w.k. --and the f.r.s. --letters to: --bids him remodel his work on the struthious skull. --bird classification. --the style of his frog paper. --work on the amphibia. --interest in the invertebrata. parnell, c.s. --his great qualities. --retirement. parslow, darwin's old butler. pasteur, l., huxley repeats his experiments on micro-organisms. --pasteur and pebrine. --typical of the century? pasteur institute, letter to the lord mayor on. paton, miss, of st. andrews. pattison, mark, in metaphysical society. payne, j., on science in public schools. payne, dr. pearson, professor k., on huxley's work in london university reform. peile, dr., at arolla. pelseneer, professor. --letters to: --intention to revise work on mollusca. --molluscan morphology. --completion of spirula memoir. --early morphological ideas confirmed: publication. pelvis in mammalia. penmaenmawr, writes "hume" at. percy, dr. john, at school of mines. "persistent types". pfluger, a physiological experiment. "physical basis of life, on the". --"the boldest act of his life". physiography. --lectures, inception of. --lessons in. "physiography". --published. --adapted in germany. --a boy's appreciation of. physiology. --study of, compared to the atlantic. --"elementary instruction in". plants, sexes of, and shakespeare. plato, opinion of his philosophy. playfair, lyon (lord playfair). --at school of mines. --on fishery commission. --vivisection bill. political economy, method of. pollock, h., at lynton. pollock, dr. julius. --at lynton. pollock, w.f. --on committee of the "reader". --and tyndall's absence. port essington. positivism, the scientific aspects of. possibilities and impossibilities. posthumous fame. poulton, professor. --letter to: --genesis and inspiration: canon driver's criticisms. "pour le merite". powell, rev. montague, on huxley and the scientific docker. "practical biology", adapted for america. practical life as a rule-of-three sum. prestwich, sir joseph. --his "geology" and the genesis controversy. --letters to: --on presidency of geological society. --the privy councillorship: temporal and other deserts. price, professor bartholomew. --letter to: --d.c.l. --gaps among friends. priesthood, power of. priestley, address on. primer, introductory. primrose, h., dines with. pritchard, professor, and metaphysical society. privy councillorship. promotion by seniority. protest, a theological. providence. pseudo-science. psychology, projected introduction to. ptolemy compared with newton. "punch". --squib on the ape question. --cartoon of huxley. pupil teachers. puritanism, in action and belief. pusey, opposes d.c.l. for froude and huxley. pye smith, dr. pyrosoma, further observations on. quain, dr. richard, president royal college of surgeons. quakerism, rise of, compared to rise of christianity. "quarterly review" attack on darwin. quekett, j.t., unfairly treated. race and language. radiata, a zoological lumber-room. ramsey, sir a.c. rankine, professor. --presentation to, at liverpool. ransom, dr., indirectly determined his career. rathbone, p.h., presides at the sphinx club dinner to huxley. rathbone, w., wishes to send huxley on a visit to india. rathke. "rattlesnake", h.m.s. --enters. --quarters on. --life on. --voyage of. --effect on huxley's development. --voyage of the, reviewed by huxley. ravenna. ray society. --helps publish huxley's early papers. --translation of haeckel's "morphologie". "reader", the. reaumur. --on the six-fingered maltese. --appreciation of. reconcilers. red lion club. rede lecture, on the pearly nautilus and evolution. reed, sir charles, on huxley's retirement from the school board. reeks, trenham, on the temperature of a letter from tyndall. reformation, the new. "rehmes". reid, sir john watt. --at haslar. --advice. religion and morality, defined. religion for men. renan, typical of the century? rendu, on glaciers. reptilia, fossil, memoirs on. responsibility, illness and. retirement. --at the age of sixty. --pension. --remains honorary dean of college of science. --civil list pension. reville, dr., attacked by gladstone. ribaldry, heterodox, worse than orthodox fanaticism. rich, anthony, legacy from. richardson, sir john. --selects huxley for scientific expedition. --letter to: --on work done during voyage. --meets again. --seeks portrait of. rigg, dr., on huxley's retirement from school board. riley, athelstan, attack on the compromise. ripon, bishop of, letter to: work and influence of men of science. riviere, briton, r.a., letter to: science training for his son. roberts, father, on galileo and the pope. robinson, dr. louis, simian characteristics in infants. rogers, rev. william. --at sion house meeting. --letter to: --on physiography lectures. roller, mrs. --letters to: --roman architecture: catacombs. --endless sights of rome. --florence. --french women and french dishes: --superiority of the male figure. --money and a new house. --birthday letters: good looks as a child. --love of children: the "just man who needeth no repentance" as a father. --"the epistle of thomas". rolleston, professor g. --visit to. --work on the simian brain. --characterised. --teaches biology by types. --death of. --asked to succeed. --letter to: --his recovery. roman catholics and physical science. romanes, professor g.j. --evolution of intellect from sense. --interpretations of darwin. --fatal illness of. --letters to: --on his refusal to join association of liberal thinkers. --his obituary of darwin for "nature". --alleged presupposition of design in evolution: liars and authors should have long memories. --experimental evolution. --illness of: type of the empire and home rule. --adumbration of the romanes lecture: madeira. --his poems: a wife-comrade: a religion for men: tennyson poem. --the romanes lecture: a doubtful promise. --ready to act as substitute for gladstone: subject. --gresham university scheme: payment for lecture. --limits of the subject. --proofs seen by romanes. --dangers of. --illness of friends: the approach of death. romanes, mrs. --a "chirrupping" acceptance of an invitation. --letter to: --publication of the "chirrupping" letter: refrains from "touching a wound he cannot heal". --guards against possible misrepresentations in the letter. romanes lecture. --theme of, anticipated in the "struggle for existence". --special inducement. --letters on. --criticisms on. --description of. rome. roscoe, sir henry. --letter to: --on science primers. --advice to stay at owens college. --british association : health: primers. --appointments at owens college. --tour in auvergne. --opening of owens college. --on men of science series. --second sketch of introductory science primer. --on his knighthood. --attack of pleurisy. --technical education. --sectarian training colleges. rosebery, lord. --letters to: --a deputation on london university reform. --a contretemps at a public dinner. ross, sir james, meeting with. rosse, lord, p.r.s., his help. rousseau. royal college of science, to be kept clear of new university scheme. royal society. --and huxley's early papers. --elected fellow. --nearly receives royal medal. --elected on council. --medal. --his work as secretary. --duties of secretary. --resignation of presidency. --admission of medical men. --evening meetings and smoking. --politics and the presidency. --federation scheme. --dealings with huxley. --alleged ignoring of distinguished men. --fee reduction fund. rucker, professor, and new university scheme. ruskin, breach of confidence touching a letter of his. rutherford, professor, helps in the new science teaching. sabine, colonel. --and the schlagintweits. --and darwin's copley medal. sacramental food. st. andrews, lord rectorship. st. andrews, sends his son to. st. thomas' hospital, lectures at. salisbury, lord. --interview with, on literary and scientific honours. --seconds vote of thanks to, as president of the british association. --criticism in "nature". salmon disease. --memoir on. salmon, their "playground". salpa. --aim of his work on. --anticipated in. salters' company, present huxley with their freedom. salvation army. --controversy, origin. --progress of. samuelson, mr., letter to: on clerical attacks. sanderson, sir burdon. --vivisection bill. --discussion with tyndall. --dines with. sandon, lord, leaves school board. sandys, j.e. --his speech presenting huxley for ll.d. at cambridge. --letter to: --"tenax propositi". satan, the prince of this world. "saturday review" science in. sauropsida. savages, interview with. savigny. --his observations on salpa supplemented. --his morphological method adopted. schlagintweit, the brothers. schmitz, dr. l., head of international college. schomburgk, sir richard. school board. --work on. --his campaign continued in "administrative nihilism". --compromise, letters on. --diggleite attack on the compromise. schurman, professor, on design in evolution. science and agriculture. science and art department. --lectures for. --value of examinations. --examinations. "science and art in relation to education". science. --and creeds. --and its prophets. "science and culture". "science and religion, truthfulness in". "science at sea". science. --in public schools. --in elementary schools. --the great tragedy of. --definition of. --at oxford. science, biological, and medicine. science primers begun. science teachers, need of. science teaching: scheme for the international college. "scientific education". scientific missionaries. scott, d.h., extends text-book on biology. scott, john godwin. scott, mrs. j.g. (eliza huxley). --visit to. --letters to: --prospects of "rattlesnake" voyage. --first scientific memoir. --engagement. --last cruise and kennedy's expedition. --return and ambitions. --character of forbes. --death of his mother: first lecture: irony of his position. --royal medal: people he can deal with. --science and mammon. --rounds the cape horn of his life. --position in . --his home in . --his reputation: slavery. sea serpent, letters on. selborne, lord, in metaphysical society. sensation, lecture on. seth, professor. --letters to: --thanks for understanding him: conditions of romanes lecture: faraday on popular audiences. --prolegomena: spinoza. sexton, t., and parnell. shaftesbury, lord. --quotes huxley's definition of religion and morality. --charges him with advocating vivisections before children. --letter from. sharpey, dr. william. --help from. --secretary royal society till . --vivisection bill. "shehretz". sidgwick, wm. c., rebuke to the "speaker". sin, origin of. sinclair, sir j.g.t., letter to: on babbage's calculating machine. sion college. --meeting. --declines to attend opening of new buildings at. skelton, sir john. --visits. --letters to: --"noctes ambrosianae". --advantage of quasi-scotch nationality: the hermitage too pleasant for work. --biography and fiction: conscience and letter writing. --dinner and discussion. --"the crookit meg", a reference to huxley. --introduction to tyndall. --mary stuart and the casket letters. --gladstone as controversialist. --nature and suffering. --historians and practical discipline: an antagonist "rouses his corruption". --the casket letters. --retirement from london. --limitations of the romanes lecture, mending the irremediable. skull. --theory of the vertebrate. --further investigations. slavery. smalley, g.w. --huxley in new york harbour. --description of him as a lecturer. --his friends and talk. smith, robertson, at x club. smith, sir william. --and international college. --effect of the name "vivisection". smith, right hon. w.h., bible-reading in schools. smyth, w. warington, death of. snakes, lecture on. socialism, state, and natural selection. societies and ladies. society and societies. society for the propagation of common honesty. society of arts, speech at. "speaker", the insinuations of, rebuked. species and sterility. "spectator", on "pope huxley". spedding, james. --influence of huxley's accuracy in style. --letter from: --on bacon. bacon's influence compared with huxley's. spencer, herbert. --and evolution. --joins x club. --fondness for music. --philosophy. --on comte. --"devil's advocate". --his comparison of the body politic to the body physical criticised. --criticises "administrative nihilism". --controversy not inconsistent with friendship. --a regular new year's guest. --his philosophy found wanting by a youthful punjaubee. --vigour of. --philosophical opposition to. --correspondence on absolute ethics. --psychology based on use-inheritance. --frankness to. --plays racquets with. --authority on music. --letters from: --will not break through custom of sending him proofs. --urges him to answer lilly. --sends proofs to him as an "omnivorous reader". --letters to: --his review of the "archetype". --"first principles". --distention of birds' air-cells during flight. --animals and plants: tyndall's favourite problem: "gynopathy". --patience in discussions. --dry facts only at edinburgh lectures: moses and a visit to town. --on george eliot and westminster abbey. --thanks for his photograph. --acceptance of p.r.s. --on creation controversy. --influence of conditions. --reads proofs of his autobiography. --use-inheritance. --disinclined to reply to mr. lilly. --the plot succeeds. --his own boyhood. --reply to mr. lilly: abuse of the word "law": victorian science. --imperial institute. --death of his daughter. --retrospect of their first meeting: clears up possible misunderstanding about london liberty league. --a visit to, postponed: defensive position in controversy. --forgetfulness of past events: a sweeping criticism. --jests on his recent activity: himself unlike samson. --some consolation for old age. --return from maloja. sphinx club, liverpool, dinner to huxley. spinoza. --memorial to. --debt to. spiritualism. --experiments in. --if true, an additional argument against suicide. --report on seance. spirula, work on. spitzbergen, fossils from. spontaneous generation. --and darwinism. --recipe for. spottiswoode, william. --and x club. --visit to. --character of. --death. stanley, dean. --handwriting. --death of. --on george eliot's funeral. --men of science. --on being made a bishop. --historical impressionability. --repartee, the priests and the prophets. stanley, lord. stanley, lord, of alderley, memorial to carlyle. stanley, owen, captain of "rattlesnake". stanley, mrs. owen. state, comparison with the body. state, the, and the medical profession. steffens, father, friendship with. stephen, sir leslie. --in metaphysical society. --on huxley and his home life. --letter to: --separation from friends: --deafness: morality in the cosmos. stephenson, g. stewart, professor balfour, editor of science primers. stocks, john ellerton. stokes, sir g.g. --presentation to, at liverpool. --letter from: --parliament and the presidency of the royal society. --letters to. strachey, e. strachey, sir r., appreciation of. strauss, on the resurrection. struthers, professor, visits. style. --influence of his. --cannot judge of his own compositions in manuscript. --the first pages of an essay the chief trouble. suarez, his teaching examined. suicide, moral. sulivan, captain, at falkland islands. sunday evening gatherings. --impression on friends. sunday society, unable to support prominently while p.r.s. supernaturalism. sydenham college. sydney, projected chair of natural history at. sylvester, professor. tait, professor. --reconciliation with tyndall. --makes huxley play golf. taylor, miss h., criticism of "administrative nihilism". taylor, canon isaac, language and race. taylor, robert. --christianity compared to babism. --letter to: --success of christianity and the story of christ. teachers, lectures to. technical education. --address on. --continuation of his work on the school board. --report to the guilds. --engineers the city and guilds institute. --supply of teachers, speech at the society of arts. --buildings. --letter on his aims. --relation of industry to science. --imperial institute. --letters to "times". --campaign interrupted by pleurisy. --at manchester in the autumn. technical education in agriculture. teeth, writes on. tegumentary organs, article on. teleology, see also s.v. design "tenax propositi". tenby. --survey work at. --fossil forest at. tennessee, on the geology of. tennyson. --"ode on wellington". --in metaphysical society. --death of. --visits to. --scientific insight of. --his talk. --insensibility to music. --on browning's music. --funeral. --poem on. --letter to: --thanks for "demeter": envies his vigour. tenterden, lady, at lynton. tethea, on the anatomy of. theism, philosophical difficulties of. theological doctrines, truth underlying. theology, sentimental. thompson, sir henry, on clifford's illness. thomson, archbishop. --on modern thought and positivism. --and metaphysical society. thomson, john, surgeon on the "rattlesnake". thomson, joseph, description of huxley's lectures at edinburgh. thomson, sir w. (lord kelvin), reconciliation with tyndall. thomson, sir wyville. --and bathybius. --his course at edinburgh taken by huxley. --criticism of darwin. thorpe, professor, and new university scheme. thought, as a "function" of the brain. "times". --review of the "origin" in. title, rumoured acceptance of. titles, for men of science. todd, dr. r.b., gives up professorship at kings college. "todd's cyclopaedia", writes for. tollemache, a., at x club. tomes, sir john. toronto, stands for professorship at. training colleges, sectarian. trevelyan, sir c., under-secretary treasury. treviranus, not studied by huxley before . trigonia, on the animal of. truth. --transatlantic discovery of. --huxley a fanatic for. tug, story of. tulloch, principal. turner, w., an appointment to calcutta museum. tyndall, mrs. --letters to: --duties of a married daughter. --forgetfulness. --an invitation to lunch. tyndall, john. --rejected, like huxley, at toronto. --physics for "saturday review". --joint paper on glacier ice. --joins school of mines. --friendship. --a "madcap" alpinist. --on committee of the "reader". --in wales with. --takes waverley place house. --favourite problem in molecular physics. --and x club. --receives edinburgh ll.d. with huxley. --joins in drawing up scheme of science teaching in schools. --in metaphysical society. --presentation to, at liverpool. --discussion with b. sanderson. --a constant new year's guest. --action of association of liberal thinkers. --vigour of. --visit to. --death of. --letters from: --unable to join in trip to the eifel. --on clerical attacks. --on proposed visit to india. --on opposition to his presidency of the british association. --wasted sympathy. --letters to: --toronto. --elected f.r.s. --on a london career. --science reviews in "westminster". --letter from colleagues in england. --at his marriage. --the brenoa: end of swiss trip. --on joining school of mines. --on jamaica affair. --on working-men's lecture at british association: reconciliation with thomson and tait. --resignation of fullerian lectureship. --resigning lectureship at school of mines. --liverpool british association. --an electrical disturbance. --his lecture at liverpool meeting of british association. --a letter to "nature": his breakdown. --trip to egypt: ascent of vesuvius. --the new teaching of biology: hooker's affair. --ill-health, and the fine air of st. john's wood: tyndall's visit to america. --a loan. --possibility of marriage. --the new year in the new house: tyndall's "english accent": character of hirst: lord rector of aberdeen. --tour in auvergne. --controversy about forbes: --walks with his young son: receives order of the pole star. --opposition to his presidency of the british association: a letter at high temperature: blauvelt's "modern skepticism". --the forbes controversy: british association at belfast. --excuses for undertaking unnecessary work: subject of belfast address, spinoza memorial: pay at edinburgh: possible sons-in-law. --examines micro-organisms. --offers to lecture for: "bottled life". --on his daughter's recovery. --to take boyle in english men of science series. --own capacity as an editor: clifford's illness. --begs him to avoid "avalanches of work". --friendship and criticism, apropos of science review in "nineteenth century". --a confession --dinner in honour of. --lord granville's sarcastic sweetness. --confused with him in the popular mind. --tennyson's funeral. --effect of influenza: addresses at oxford: dying by inches. "universities, actual and ideal". university, johns hopkins. --address at: "trustees have sometimes made a palace and called it a university". --ideal of. --government by professors only. use-inheritance. --disbelief in. --in plants. variation, the key to the darwinian theory. varigny, h. de. --letters to: --his essays translated into french: love of his native tongue. --later volume not interesting to french public: experimental proof of specific infertility. vermes, a zoological lumber-room. "vestiges of creation". vesuvius, ascent of. virchow, professor. --(in huxley lecture), influence of the "rattlesnake" voyage. --on huxley's ethnological work. --at medical congress. vivisection. --lord shaftesbury's charges. --w.e. forster and south kensington lectures. --personal feelings on. --bills. --fox-hunting legislators. --experiment and original research. --commission on. --harvey article. vogt, karl. von willemoes suhm and ceylon museum. wace, dr., attacks agnosticism. wales, h.r.h., prince of. --admitted to royal society. --unveils darwin statue. walker, alfred, letter to: local museums. walking, his holiday recreation. wallace, a.r. --starts darwin. --civil list pension. --letter from: friendship with huxley. waller, mrs. f.w. --letters to: --numbers at edinburgh lectures: suggests a new friend. --afghan war of : indian empire a curse. --avoidance of congresses. --acceptance of p.r.s. --portrait at the royal academy: family news. --loss of her child. --a christmas function. walpole, sir spencer. --on huxley as fishery inspector. --kindness from, in italy. walpole, sir spencer h., vivisection bill. ward, dr. --his former examiner. --passed over in favour of huxley for royal society. ward, t.h., visit to. ward, mrs. t.h. --letter to: --thanks for "robert elsmere". ward, w. --table-talk of huxley, especially on the "foundations of belief". --other reminiscences of his talk. ward, w.g. --in metaphysical society. --saying about mill's opinions. warwick, lectures at. "water-babies, the". --letter to his grandson about. waugh, rev. benjamin. --impression of huxley on the school board. welby, lady. --letters to: --life compared to a whirlpool: human tendency to make idols: "devils advocate" to h. spencer. --speculation and fact. --truthfulness in science and religion. welcker, dr. h. --on his ethnological work. weldon, professor. --letters to: --ideal of a modern university. --organisation of new university. wellington, duke of, funeral. --on speaking. westlake, john, q.c. --a working-men's meeting. "westminster review", writes for. whales. whewell, "history of scientific ideas". wilberforce, bishop, on darwinism. winmarleigh, lord, on vivisection commission. withers, rachel, mother of t.h. huxley (see huxley). "witness", the, on the ape question. wollaston, t.v., and species. women. --medical education of. --in public life. women's education. woodward, s.p., and geological amateur. working-men's college. --(lectures. see lectures). --address at, on "method of zadig". working-men's institute. wright, dr., editor of "natural history review". x club. --founded. --history. --compared to the club. --jealousy of. --gaps in. yale, fossils in museum. youmans, dr. --at x club. --meeting with. young, lord, dines with. yule, commander, succeeds owen stanley. "zadig, method of". zoological gardens. zoological society. the end. proofreaders frank and archie series * * * * * frank the young naturalist by harry castlemon, author of "the rocky mountain series," "the go-ahead series," etc. [illustration] the gun-boat series. frank, the young naturalist, frank on a gun-boat, frank in the woods, frank on the prairie, frank before vicksburg, frank on the lower mississippi. contents. chapter i. the home of the young naturalist chapter ii. an ugly customer chapter iii. the museum chapter iv. a race on the water chapter v. a fishing excursion chapter vi. the regulators chapter vii. the revenge chapter viii. how to spend the "fourth" chapter ix. the coast-guards outwitted chapter x. a queer course chapter xi. trout-fishing chapter xii. a duck-hunt on the water chapter xiii. a 'coon-hunt chapter xiv. bill lawson's revenge chapter xv. wild geese chapter xvi. a chapter of incidents chapter xvii. the grayhound outgeneraled frank, the young naturalist. * * * * * chapter i. the home of the young naturalist. about one hundred miles north of augusta, the capital of maine, the little village of lawrence is situated. a range of high hills skirts its western side, and stretches away to the north as far as the eye can reach; while before the village, toward the east, flows the kennebec river. near the base of the hills a beautiful stream, known as glen's creek, has its source; and, after winding through the adjacent meadows, and reaching almost around the village, finally empties into the kennebec. its waters are deep and clear, and flow over a rough, gravelly bed, and under high banks, and through many a little nook where the perch and sunfish love to hide. this creek, about half a mile from its mouth, branches off, forming two streams, the smaller of which flows south, parallel with the river for a short distance, and finally empties into it. this stream is known as ducks' creek, and it is very appropriately named; for, although it is but a short distance from the village, every autumn, and until late in the spring, its waters are fairly alive with wild ducks, which find secure retreats among the high bushes and reeds which line its banks. the island formed by these two creeks is called reynard's island, from the fact that for several years a sly old fox had held possession of it in spite of the efforts of the village boys to capture him. the island contains, perhaps, twenty-five acres, and is thickly covered with hickory-trees; and there is an annual strife between the village boys and the squirrels, to see which can gather the greater quantity of nuts. directly opposite the village, near the middle of the river, is another island, called strawberry island, from the great quantity of that fruit which it produces. the fishing-grounds about the village are excellent. the river affords great numbers of perch, black bass, pike, and muscalonge; and the numberless little streams that intersect the country fairly swarm with trout, and the woods abound in game. this attracts sportsmen from other places; and the _julia burton_, the little steamer that plies up and down the river, frequently brings large parties of amateur hunters and fishermen, who sometimes spend months enjoying the rare sport. it was on the banks of glen's creek, about half a mile from the village, in a neat little cottage that stood back from the road, and which was almost concealed by the thick shrubbery and trees that surrounded it, that frank nelson, the young naturalist, lived. his father had been a wealthy merchant in the city of boston; and, after his death, mrs. nelson had removed into the country with her children, and bought the place of which we are speaking. frank was a handsome, high-spirited boy, about sixteen years of age. he was kind, open-hearted, and generous; and no one in the village had more friends than he. but his most prominent characteristic was perseverance. he was a slow thinker, and some, perhaps, at first sight, would have pronounced him "dull;" but the unyielding application with which he devoted himself to his studies, or to any thing else he undertook, overcame all obstacles; and he was further advanced, and his knowledge was more thorough than that of any other boy of the same age in the village. he never gave up any thing he undertook because he found it more difficult than he had expected, or hurried over it in a "slipshod" manner, for his motto was, "whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well." at the time of which we write frank was just entering upon what he called a "long vacation." he had attended the high-school of which the village boasted for nearly eight years, with no intermission but the vacations, and during this time he had devoted himself with untiring energy to his studies. he loved his books, and they were his constant companions. by intense application he succeeded in working his way into the highest class in school, which was composed of young men much older than himself, and who looked upon him, not as a fellow-student, but as a rival, and used every exertion to prevent him from keeping pace with them. but frank held his own in spite of their efforts, and not unfrequently paid them back in their own coin by committing his lessons more thoroughly than they. things went on so for a considerable time. frank, whose highest ambition was to be called the best scholar in his class, kept steadily gaining ground, and one by one the rival students were overtaken and distanced. but frank had some smart scholars matched against him, and he knew that the desired reputation was not to be obtained without a fierce struggle; and every moment, both in and out of school, was devoted to study. he had formerly been passionately fond of rural sports, hunting and fishing, but now his fine double-barrel gun, which he had always taken especial care to keep in the best possible "shooting order," hung in its accustomed place, all covered with dust. his fishing-rod and basket were in the same condition; and bravo, his fine hunting-dog, which was very much averse to a life of inactivity, made use of his most eloquent whines in vain. at last frank's health began to fail rapidly. his mother was the first to notice it, and at the suggestion of her brother, who lived in portland, she decided to take frank out of school for at least one year, and allow him but two hours each day for study. perhaps some of our young readers would have been very much pleased at the thought of so long a respite from the tiresome duties of school; but it was a severe blow to frank. a few more months, he was confident, would have carried him ahead of all competitors. but he always submitted to his mother's requirements, no matter how much at variance with his own wishes, without murmuring; and when the spring term was ended he took his books under his arm, and bade a sorrowful farewell to his much-loved school-room. it is june, and as frank has been out of school almost two months, things begin to wear their old, accustomed look again. the young naturalist's home, as his schoolmates were accustomed to say, is a "regular curiosity shop." perhaps, reader, if we take a stroll about the premises, we can find something to interest us. frank's room, which he called his "study," is in the south wing of the cottage. it has two windows, one looking out toward the road, and the other covered with a thick blind of climbing roses, which almost shut out the light. a bookcase stands beside one of the windows, and if you were to judge from the books it contained, you would pronounce frank quite a literary character. the two upper shelves are occupied by miscellaneous books, such as cooper's novels, shakspeare's works, and the like. on the next two shelves stand frank's choicest books--natural histories; there are sixteen large volumes, and he knows them almost by heart. the drawers in the lower part of the case are filled on one side with writing materials, and on the other with old compositions, essays, and orations, some of which exhibit a power of imagination and a knowledge of language hardly to be expected in a boy of frank's age. on the top of the case, at either end, stand the busts of clay and webster, and between them are two relics of revolutionary times, a sword and musket crossed, with the words "bunker hill" printed on a slip of paper fastened to them. on the opposite side of the room stands a bureau, the drawers of which are filled with clothing, and on the top are placed two beautiful specimens of frank's handiwork. one is a model of a "fore-and-aft" schooner, with whose rigging or hull the most particular tar could not find fault. the other represents a "scene at sea." it is inclosed in a box about two feet long and a foot and a half in hight. one side of the box is glass, and through it can be seen two miniature vessels. the craft in the foreground would be known among sailors as a "jack." she is neither a brig nor a bark, but rather a combination of both. she is armed, and the cannon can be seen protruding from her port-holes. every sail is set, and she seems to be making great exertion to escape from the other vessel, which is following close in her wake. the flag which floats at her peak, bearing the sign of the "skull and cross-bones," explains it all: the "jack" is a pirate; and you could easily tell by the long, low, black hull, and tall, raking masts that her pursuer is a revenue cutter. the bottom of the box, to which the little vessels are fastened in such a manner that they appear to "heel" under the pressure of their canvas, is cut out in little hollows, and painted blue, with white caps, to resemble the waves of the ocean; while a thick, black thunder-cloud, which is painted on the sides of the box, and appears to be rising rapidly, with the lightning playing around its ragged edges, adds greatly to the effect of the scene. at the north end of the room stands a case similar to the one in which frank keeps his books, only it is nearly twice as large. it is filled with stuffed "specimens"--birds, nearly two hundred in number. there are bald eagles, owls, sparrows, hawks, cranes, crows, a number of different species of ducks, and other water-fowl; in short, almost every variety of the feathered creation that inhabited the woods around lawrence is here represented. at the other end of the room stands a bed concealed by curtains. before it is a finely carved wash-stand, on which are a pitcher and bowl, and a towel nicely folded lies beside them. in the corner, at the foot of the bed, is what frank called his "sporting cabinet." a frame has been erected by placing two posts against the wall, about four feet apart; and three braces, pieces of board about six inches wide, and long enough to reach from one post to the other, are fastened securely to them. on the upper brace a fine jointed fish-pole, such as is used in "heavy" fishing, protected by a neat, strong bag of drilling, rests on hooks which have been driven securely into the frame; and from another hook close by hangs a large fish-basket which frank, who is a capital fisherman, has often brought in filled with the captured denizens of the river or some favorite trout-stream. on the next lower brace hang a powder-flask and shot-pouch and a double-barrel shot-gun, the latter protected from the damp and dust by a thick, strong covering. on the lower brace hang the clothes the young naturalist always wears when he goes hunting or fishing--a pair of sheep's-gray pantaloons, which will resist water and dirt to the last extremity, a pair of long boots, a blue flannel-shirt, such as is generally worn by the sailors, and an india-rubber coat and cap for rainy weather. a shelf has been fastened over the frame, and on this stands a tin box, which frank calls his "fishing-box." it is divided into apartments, which are filled with fish-hooks, sinkers, bobbers, artificial flies, spoon-hooks, reels, and other tackle, all kept in the nicest order. frank had one sister, but no brothers. her name was julia. she was ten years of age; and no boy ever had a lovelier sister. like her brother, she was unyielding in perseverance, but kind and trusting in disposition, willing to be told her faults that she might correct them. mrs. nelson was a woman of good, sound sense; always required implicit obedience of her children; never flattered them, nor allowed others to do so if she could prevent it. the only other inmate of the house was aunt hannah, as the children called her. she had formerly been a slave in virginia, and, after years of toil, had succeeded in laying by sufficient money to purchase her freedom. we have already spoken of frank's dog; but were we to allow the matter to drop here it would be a mortal offense in the eyes of the young naturalist, for bravo held a very prominent position in his affections. he was a pure-blooded newfoundland, black as jet, very active and courageous, and there was nothing in the hunting line that he did not understand; and it was a well-established saying among the young nimrods of the village, that frank, with bravo's assistance, could kill more squirrels in any given time than any three boys in lawrence. chapter ii. an ugly customer. directly behind the cottage stands a long, low, neatly constructed building, which is divided by partitions into three rooms, of which one is used as a wood-shed, another for a carpenter's shop, and the third is what frank calls his "museum." it contains stuffed birds and animals, souvenirs of many a well-contested fight. let us go and examine them. about the middle of the building is the door which leads into the museum, and, as you enter, the first object that catches your eye is a large wild-cat, crouched on a stand which is elevated about four feet above the floor, his back arched, every hair in his body sticking toward his head, his mouth open, displaying a frightful array of teeth, his ears laid back close to his head, and his sharp claws spread out, presenting altogether a savage appearance; and you are glad that you see him dead and stuffed, and not alive and running at liberty in the forest in the full possession of strength. but the young naturalist once stood face to face with this ugly customer under very different circumstances. about forty miles north of lawrence lives an old man named joseph lewis. he owns about five hundred acres of land, and in summer he "farms it" very industriously; but as soon as the trapping season approaches he leaves his property to the care of his hired men, and spends most of the time in the woods. about two-thirds of his farm is still in its primeval state, and bears, wild-cats, and panthers abound in great numbers. the village boys are never more delighted than when the winter vacation comes, and they can gain the permission of their parents to spend a fortnight with "uncle joe," as they call him. the old man is always glad to see them, and enlivens the long winter evenings with many a thrilling story of his early life. during the winter that had just passed, frank, in company with his cousin archie winters, of whom more hereafter, paid a visit to uncle joe. one cold, stormy morning, as they sat before a blazing fire, cracking hickory-nuts, the farmer burst suddenly into the house, which was built of logs, and contained but one room, and commenced taking down his rifle. "what's the matter, uncle joe?" inquired archie. "matter!" repeated the farmer; "why, some carnal varmint got into my sheep-pen last night, and walked off with some of my mutton. come," he continued, as he slung on his bullet-pouch, "let's go and shoot him." frank and archie were ready in a few minutes; and, after dropping a couple of buck-shot into each barrel of their guns, followed the farmer out to the sheep-pen. it was storming violently, and it was with great difficulty that they could find the "varmint's" track. after half an hour's search, however, with the assistance of the farmer's dogs, they discovered it, and began to follow it up, the dogs leading the way. but the snow had fallen so deep that it almost covered the scent, and they frequently found themselves at fault. after following the track for two hours, the dogs suddenly stopped at a pile of hemlock-boughs, and began to whine and scratch as if they had discovered something. "wal," said uncle joe, dropping his rifle into the hollow of his arm, "the hounds have found some of the mutton, but the varmint has took himself safe off." the boys quickly threw aside the boughs, and in a few moments the mangled remains of one of the sheep were brought to light. the thief had probably had more than enough for one meal, and had hidden the surplus carefully away, intending, no doubt, to return and make a meal of it when food was not quite so plenty. "wal, boys," said the farmer, "no use to try to foller the varmint any further. put the sheep back where you found it, and this afternoon you can take one of your traps and set it so that you can ketch him when he comes back for what he has left." so saying, he shouldered his rifle and walked off, followed by his hounds. in a few moments the boys had placed every thing as they had found it as nearly as possible, and hurried on after the farmer. that afternoon, after disposing of an excellent dinner, frank and archie started into the woods to set a trap for the thief. they took with them a large wolf-trap, weighing about thirty pounds. it was a "savage thing," as uncle joe said, with a powerful spring on each side, which severely taxed their united strength in setting it; and its thick, stout jaws, which came together with a noise like the report of a gun, were armed with long, sharp teeth; and if a wolf or panther once got his foot between them, he might as well give up without a struggle. instead of their guns, each shouldered an ax. frank took possession of the trap, and archie carried a piece of heavy chain with which to fasten the "clog" to the trap. half an hour's walk brought them to the place where the wild-cat had buried his plunder. after considerable exertion they succeeded in setting the trap, and placed it in such a manner that it would be impossible for any animal to get at the sheep without being caught. the chain was them fastened to the trap, and to this was attached the clog, which was a long, heavy limb. trappers, when they wish to take such powerful animals as the bear or panther, always make use of the clog. they never fasten the trap to a stationary object. when the animal finds that he is caught, his first impulse is to run. the clog is not heavy enough to hold him still, but as he drags it through the woods, it is continually catching on bushes and frees, and retarding his progress. but if the animal should find himself unable to move at all, his long, sharp teeth would be put to immediate use, and he would hobble off on three feet, leaving the other in the trap. after adjusting the clog to their satisfaction, they threw a few handfuls of snow over the trap and chain, and, after bestowing a few finishing touches, they shouldered their axes and started toward the house. the next morning, at the first peep of day, frank and archie started for the woods, with their dogs close at their heels. as they approached the spot where the trap had been placed they held their guns in readiness, expecting to find the wild-cat secure. but they were disappointed; every thing was just as they had left it, and there were no signs of the wild-cat having been about during the night. every night and morning for a week they were regular in their visits to the trap, but not even a twig had been moved. two weeks more passed, and during this time they visited the trap but once. at length the time allotted for their stay at uncle joe's expired. on the evening previous to the day set for their departure, as they sat before the huge, old-fashioned fireplace, telling stories and eating nuts. uncle joe suddenly inquired, "boys, did you bring in your trap that you set for that wild-cat?" they had not thought of it; they had been hunting nearly every day, enjoying rare sport, and they had entirely forgotten that they had a trap to look after. "we shall be obliged to let it go until to-morrow," said frank. and the next morning, as soon as it was light, he was up and dressed, and shouldering an ax, set out with brave as a companion, leaving archie in a sound sleep. it was very careless in him not to take his gun--a "regular boy's trick," as uncle joe afterward remarked; but it did not then occur to him that he was acting foolishly; and he trudged off, whistling merrily. a few moments' rapid walking brought him to the place where the trap had been set. how he started! there lay the remains of the sheep all exposed. the snow near it was saturated with blood, and the trap, clog, and all were gone. what was he to do? he was armed with an ax, and he knew that with it he could make but a poor show of resistance against an enraged wild animal; and he knew, too, that one that could walk off with fifty pounds fast to his leg would be an ugly customer to handle. he had left brave some distance back, digging at a hole in a stump where a mink had taken refuge, and he had not yet come up. if the newfoundlander had been by his side he would have felt comparatively safe. frank stood for some minutes undecided how to act. should he go back to the house and get assistance? even if he had concluded to do so he would not have considered himself a coward; for, attacking a wounded wild-cat in the woods, with nothing but an ax to depend on, was an undertaking that would have made a larger and stronger person than frank hesitate. their astonishing activity and strength, and wonderful tenacity of life, render them antagonists not to be despised. besides, frank was but a boy, and although strong and active for his age, and possessing a good share of determined courage that sometimes amounted almost to rashness, it must be confessed that his feelings were not of the most enviable nature. he had not yet discovered the animal, but he knew that he could not be a great distance off, for the weight of the trap and clog would retard him exceedingly; and he judged, from the appearance of things, that he had not been long in the trap; perhaps, at that very moment, his glaring eyes were fastened upon him from some neighboring thicket. but the young naturalist was not one to hesitate long because there was difficulty or danger before him. he had made up his mind from the first to capture that wild-cat if possible, and now the opportunity was fairly before him. his hand was none of the steadiest as he drew off his glove and placed his fingers to his lips; and the whistle that followed was low and tremulous, very much unlike the loud, clear call with which he was accustomed to let brave know that he was wanted and he hardly expected that the dog would hear it. a faint, distant bark, however, announced that the call had been heard, and in a few moments frank heard brave's long-measured bounds as he dashed through the bushes; and when the faithful animal came in sight, he felt that he had a friend that would stand by him to the last extremity. at this juncture frank was startled by a loud rattling in the bushes, and the next moment the wild-cat sprang upon a fallen log, not half a dozen rods from the place where he was standing, and, growling fiercely, crouched and lashed his sides with his tail as if about to spring toward him. the trap hung from one of his hind-legs, but by some means he had relieved himself of the clog and chain, and he moved as if the weight of the trap were no inconvenience whatever. the young naturalist was frightened indeed, but bravely stood his ground, and clutched his ax desperately. what would he not have given to have had his trusty double-barrel in his hands! but he was not allowed much time for reflection. brave instantly discovered the wild-cat, and sprang toward him, uttering an angry growl. frank raised his ax and rushed forward to his assistance, and cheered on the dog with a voice which, to save his life, he could not raise above a whisper. the wild-cat crouched lower along the log, and his actions seemed to indicate that he intended to show fight. brave's long, eager bounds brought him nearer and nearer to his enemy. a moment more and he could have seized him; but the wild-cat suddenly turned and sprang lightly into the air, and, catching his claws into a tree that stood full twenty feet distant, ascended it like a streak of light; and, after settling himself between two large limbs, glared down upon his foes as if he were already ashamed of having made a retreat, and had half a mind to return and give them battle. brave reached the log just a moment too late, and finding his enemy fairly out of his reach, he quietly seated himself at the foot of the tree and waited for frank to come up. "good gracious!" exclaimed the young naturalist, wiping his forehead with his coat-sleeve, (for the exciting scene through which he had just passed had brought the cold sweat from every pore in his body); "it is a lucky circumstance for you and me, brave, that the varmint did not stand and show fight." then ordering the dog to "sit down and watch him," the young naturalist threw down his ax, and started toward the house for his gun. he was still very much excited, fearful that the wild-cat might take it into his head to come down and give the dog battle, in which case he would be certain to escape; for, although brave was a very powerful and courageous dog, he could make but a poor show against the sharp teeth and claws of the wild-cat. the more frank thought of it, the more excited he became, and the faster he ran. in a very few moments he reached the house, and burst into the room where uncle joe and archie and two or three hired men sat at breakfast. frank seemed not to notice them, but made straight across the room toward the place where his shot-gun hung against the wall, upsetting chairs in his progress, and creating a great confusion. "what in tarnation is the matter?" exclaimed the farmer, rising to his feet. "i've found the wild-cat," answered frank, in a scarcely audible voice. "what's that?" shouted archie, springing to his feet, and upsetting his chair and coffee-cup. but frank could not wait to answer. one bound carried him across the floor and out of the door, and he started across the field at the top of his speed, dropping a handful of buck-shot into each barrel of his gun as he went. it was not until frank had left the house that archie, so to speak, came to himself. he had been so astonished at his cousin's actions and the announcement that he had "found the wild-cat," that he seemed to be deprived of action. but frank had not made a dozen steps from the house before archie made a dash for his gun, and occasioned a greater uproar than frank had done; and, not stopping to hear the farmer's injunction to "be careful," he darted out the door, which frank in his hurry had left open, and started toward the woods at a rate of speed that would have done credit to a larger boy than himself. but frank gained rapidly on him; and when he reached the tree where the wild-cat had taken refuge, archie was full twenty rods behind. he found that the animals had not changed their positions. the wild-cat was glaring fiercely down upon the dog as if endeavoring to look him out of countenance; and brave, seated on his haunches, with his head turned on one side, and his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, was steadily returning the gaze. frank took a favorable position at a little distance from the foot of the tree, and cocking both barrels, so as to be ready for any emergency, in case the first should not prove fatal, raised his gun to his shoulder, and glancing along the clean, brown tube, covered one of the wild-cat's eyes with the fatal sight, and pressed the trigger. there was a sharp report, and the animal fell from his perch stone-dead. at this moment archie came up. after examining their prize to their satisfaction, the boys commenced looking around through the bushes to find the clog which had been detached from the trap. after some moments' search they discovered it; and archie unfastened the chain, and shouldering the ax and guns, he started toward the house. frank followed after, with the wild-cat on his shoulder, the trap still hanging to his leg. the skin was carefully taken off; and when archie and frank got home, they stuffed it, and placed it as we now see it. chapter iii. the museum. let us now proceed to examine the other objects in the museum. a wide shelf, elevated about four feet above the floor, extends entirely around the room, and on this the specimens are mounted. on one side of the door stands a tall, majestic elk, with his head thrown forward, and his wide-spreading antlers lowered, as if he meant to dispute our entrance. on the opposite side is a large black fox, which stands with one foot raised and his ears thrown forward, as if listening to some strange sound. this is the same fox which so long held possession of reynard's island; and the young naturalist and his cousin were the ones who succeeded in capturing him. the next two scenes are what frank calls his "masterpieces." the first is a large buck, running for dear life, closely followed by a pack of gaunt, hungry wolves, five in number, with their sharp-pointed ears laid back close to their heads, their tongues hanging out of their mouths, and their lips spotted with foam the flanks of the buck are dripping with blood from wounds made by their long teeth. in the next scene the buck is at bay. almost tired out, or, perhaps, too closely pressed by his pursuers, he has at length turned furiously upon them, to sell his life as dearly as possible. two of the wolves are lying a little distance off, where they have been tossed by the powerful buck, one dead, the other disabled; and the buck's sharp antlers are buried deep in the side of another, which had attempted to seize him. well may frank be proud of these specimens, for they are admirably executed. the animals are neatly stuffed, and look so lifelike and the positions are so natural, that you could almost fancy that you hear the noise of the scuffle. the next scene represents an owl, which, while engaged in one of his nocturnal plundering expeditions, has been overtaken by daylight, and not being able to reach his usual hiding-place, he has taken refuge in a clump of bushes, where he has been discovered by a flock of his inveterate enemies, the crows. the owl sits upon his perch, glaring around with his great eyes, while his tormentors surround him on all sides, their mouths wide open, as if reviling their enemy with all their might. the next scene represents a flock of ducks sporting in the water, and a sly old fox, concealed behind the trunk of a tree close by, is watching their motions, evidently with the intention of "bagging" one of them for his supper. in the next scene he is running off, at full speed, with one of the ducks thrown over his shoulder; and the others, with their mouths open as if quacking loudly, are just rising from the water. in the next scene is a large black wolf, which has just killed a lamb, and crouches over it with open mouth, as if growling fiercely at something which is about to interrupt his feast. the next scene represents a fish-hawk, which has just risen from the lake, with a large trout struggling in his talons; and just above him is a bald-eagle, with his wings drawn close to his body, in the act of swooping down upon the fish-hawk, to rob him of his hard-earned booty. in the next scene a raccoon is attempting to seize a robin, which he has frightened off her nest. the thief had crawled out on the limb on which the nest was placed, intending, no doubt, to make a meal of the bird; but mother robin, ever on the watch, had discovered her enemy, and flown off just in time to escape. the next scene is a large "dead-fall" trap, nicely set, with the bait placed temptingly within; and before it crouches a sleek marten, peeping into it as if undecided whether to enter or not. all these specimens have been cured and stuffed by frank and archie; and, with the exception of the deer and wolves, they had killed them all. the latter had been furnished by archie's father. the boys had never killed a deer, and he had promised to take them, during the coming winter with him up into the northern part of the state, where they would have an opportunity of trying their skill on the noble game. but the museum is not the only thing that has given frank the name of the "young naturalist." he is passionately fond of pets, and he has a pole shanty behind the museum, which he keeps well stocked with animals and birds. in one cage he has a young hawk, which he has just captured; in another, a couple of squirrels, which have become so tame that he can allow them to run about the shanty without the least fear of their attempting to escape. then he has two raccoons, several pigeons, kingbirds, quails, two young eagles, and a fox, all undergoing a thorough system of training. but his favorite pets are a pair of kingbirds and a crow, which are allowed to run at large all the time. they do not live on very good terms with each other. in their wild state they are enemies, and each seems to think the other has no business about the cottage; and frank has been the unwilling witness to many a desperate fight between them, in which the poor crow always comes off second best. then, to console himself, he will fly upon frank's shoulder, cawing with all his might, as if scolding him for not lending some assistance. to make amends for his defeat, frank gives him a few kernels of corn, and then shows him a hawk sailing through the air; and sam, as he calls the crow, is off in an instant, and, after tormenting the hawk until he reaches the woods, he will always return. not a strange bird is allowed to come about the cottage. the kingbirds, which have a nest in a tree close by the house, keep a sharp look-out; and hawks, eagles, crows, and even those of their own species, all suffer alike. but now and then a spry little wren pays a visit to the orchard, and then there is sport indeed. the wren is a great fighting character, continually getting into broils with the other birds, and he has no notion of being driven off; and, although the kingbirds, with sam's assistance, generally succeed in expelling the intruder, it is only after a hard fight. directly opposite the door that opens into the museum is another entrance, which leads into a room which frank calls his shop. a work-bench has been neatly fitted up in one corner, at the end of which stands a large chest filled with carpenter's tools. on the bench are several half-finished specimens of frank's skill--a jointed fish-pole, two or three finely-shaped hulls, and a miniature frigate, which he is making for one of his friends. the shop and tools are kept in the nicest order, and frank spends every rainy day at his bench. the young naturalist is also a good sailor, and has the reputation of understanding the management of a sail-boat as well as any other boy in the village. he has two boats, which are in the creek, tied to the wharf in front of the house. one of them is a light skiff, which he frequently uses in going to and from the village and on his fishing excursions, and the other is a scow, about twenty feet long and six feet wide, which he built himself. he calls her the speedwell. he has no sail-boat, but he has passed hour after hour trying to conjure up some plan by which he might be enabled to possess himself of one. such a one as he wants, and as most of the village have, would cost fifty dollars. already he has laid by half that amount; but how is he to get the rest? he has begun to grow impatient. the yachting season has just opened; every day the river is dotted with white sails; trials of speed between the swiftest sailers come off almost every hour, and he is obliged to stand and look on, or content himself with rowing around in his skiff. it is true he has many friends who are always willing to allow him a seat in their boats, but that does not satisfy him. he has determined to have a yacht of his own, if there is any honest way for him to get it. for almost a year he has carefully laid aside every penny, and but half the necessary sum has been saved. how to get the remainder is the difficulty. he never asks his mother for money; he is too independent for that; besides, he has always been taught to rely on his own resources, and he has made up his mind that, if he can not _earn_ his boat, he will go without it. three or four days after the commencement of our story, frank might have been seen, about five o'clock one pleasant morning, seated on the wharf in front of the house, with brave at his side. the question how he should get his boat had been weighing heavily upon his mind, and he had come to the conclusion that something must be done, and that speedily. "well," he soliloquized, "my chance of getting a sail-boat this season is rather slim, i'm afraid. but i've made up my mind to have one, and i won't give it up now. let me see! i wonder how the sunbeam [meaning his skiff] would sail? i mean to try her. no," he added, on second thought, "she couldn't carry canvas enough to sail with one of the village yachts. i have it!" he exclaimed at length, springing to his feet. "the speedwell! i wonder if i couldn't make a sloop of her. at any rate, i will get her up into my shop and try it." frank, while he was paying a visit to his cousin in portland, had witnessed a regatta, in which the peerless, a large, schooner-rigged scow, had beaten the swiftest yachts of which the city boasted; and he saw no reason why his scow could not do the same. the idea was no sooner conceived than he proceeded to put it into execution. he sprang up the bank, with brave close at his heels, and in a few moments disappeared in the wood-shed. a large wheelbarrow stood in one corner of the shed, and this frank pulled from its place, and, after taking off the sides, wheeled it down to the creek, and placed it on the beach, a little distance below the wharf. he then untied the painter--a long rope by which the scow was fastened to the wharf--and drew the scow down to the place where he had left the wheelbarrow. he stood for some moments holding the end of the painter in his hand, and thinking how he should go to work to get the scow, which was very heavy and unwieldy, upon the wheelbarrow. but frank was a true yankee, and fruitful in expedients, and he soon hit upon a plan, which he was about putting into execution, when a strong, cheery voice called out: "arrah, me boy! what'll yer be after doing with the boat?" frank looked up and saw uncle mike, as the boys called him--a good-natured irishman, who lived in a small rustic cottage not far from mrs. nelson's--coming down the bank. "good morning, uncle mike," said frank, politely accepting the irishman's proffered hand and shaking it cordially. "i want to get this scow up to my shop; but i'm afraid it is a little too heavy for me to manage." "so it is, intirely," said mike, as he divested himself of his coat, and commenced rolling up his shirt-sleeves. "allow me to lend yer a helpin' hand." and, taking the painter from frank's hand, he drew the scow out of the water, high upon the bank. he then placed his strong arms under one side of the boat, and frank took hold of the other, and, lifting together, they raised it from the ground, and placed it upon the wheelbarrow. "now, master frank," said mike, "if you will take hold and steady her, i'll wheel her up to the shop for you." frank accordingly placed his hands upon the boat in such a manner that he could keep her steady and assist mike at the same time; and the latter, taking hold of the "handles," as he termed them, commenced wheeling her up the bank. the load was heavy, but mike was a sturdy fellow, and the scow was soon at the door of the shop. frank then placed several sticks of round wood, which he had brought out of the wood-shed, upon the ground, about three feet apart, to serve as rollers, and, by their united efforts, the speedwell was placed upon her side on these rollers, and in a few moments was left bottom upward on the floor of the shop. chapter iv. a race on the water. a week passed, and the speedwell again rode proudly at her moorings, in front of the cottage; but her appearance was greatly changed. a "center-board" and several handy lockers had been neatly fitted up in her, and her long, low hull painted black on the outside and white on the inside; and her tall, raking mast and faultless rigging gave her quite a ship-like appearance. frank had just been putting on a few finishing touches, and now stood on the wharf admiring her. it was almost night, and consequently he could not try her sailing qualities that day; and he was so impatient to discover whether or not he had made a failure, that it seemed impossible for him to wait. while he was thus engaged, he heard the splashing of oars, and, looking up, discovered two boys rowing toward him in a light skiff as they approached, he recognized george and harry butler, two of his most intimate acquaintances. they were brothers, and lived about a quarter of a mile from mrs. nelson's, but they and frank were together almost all the time. harry, who was about a year older than frank, was a very impulsive fellow, and in a moment of excitement often said and did things for which he felt sorry when he had time to think the matter over; but he was generous and good-hearted, and if he found that he had wronged any one, he never failed to make ample reparation. george, who was just frank's age, was a jolly, good-natured boy, and would suffer almost any indignity rather than retaliate. "well, frank," said harry, as soon as they came within speaking distance, "george and i wanted a little exercise, so we thought we would row up and see what had become of you. why don't you come down and see a fellow? hallo!" he exclaimed, on noticing the change in the speedwell's appearance, "what have you been trying to do with your old scow?" "why, don't you see?" said frank. "i've been trying to make a yacht out of her." "how does she sail?" inquired george. "i don't know. i have just finished her, and have not had time to try her sailing qualities yet." "i don't believe she will sail worth a row of pins," said harry, confidently, as he drew the skiff alongside the speedwell, and climbed over into her. "but i'll tell you what it is," he continued, peeping into the lockers and examining the rigging, "you must have had plenty of hard work to do in fixing her over. you have really made a nice boat out of her." "yes, i call it a first-rate job," said george. "did you make the sails yourself, frank?" "yes," answered frank. "i did all the work on her. she ought to be a good sailer, after all the trouble i've had. how would you like to spend an hour with me on the river to-morrow? you will then have an opportunity to judge for yourself." the boys readily agreed to this proposal, and, after a few moments' more conversation, they got into their skiff and pulled down the creek. the next morning, about four o'clock, frank awoke, and he had hardly opened his eyes before he was out on the floor and dressing. he always rose at this hour, both summer and winter; and he had been so long in the habit of it, that it had become a kind of second nature with him. going to the window, he drew aside the curtain and looked out. the speedwell rode safely at the wharf, gallantly mounting the swells which were raised by quite a stiff breeze that was blowing directly down the creek. he amused himself for about two hours in his shop; and after he had eaten his breakfast, he began to get ready to start on the proposed excursion. a large basket, filled with refreshments, was carefully stowed away in one of the lockers of the speedwell, the sails were hoisted, the painter was cast off, and frank took his seat at the helm, and the boat moved from the shore "like a thing of life." the creek was too narrow to allow of much maneuvering, and frank was obliged to forbear judging of her sailing qualities until he should reach the river. but, to his delight, he soon discovered one thing, and that was, that before the wind the speedwell was no mean sailer. a few moments' run brought him to mr. butler's wharf, where he found george and harry waiting for him. frank brought the speedwell around close to the place where they were standing in splendid style, and the boys could not refrain from expressing their admiration at the handsome manner in which she obeyed her helm. they clambered down into the boat, and seated themselves on the middle thwarts, where they could assist frank in managing the sails, and in a few moments they reached the river. "there comes bill johnson!" exclaimed george, suddenly, "just behind the long dock." the boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw the top of the masts and sails of a boat which was moving slowly along on the other side of the dock. "now, frank," said harry, "turn out toward the middle of the river, and get as far ahead of him as you can, and see if we can't reach the island [meaning strawberry island] before he does." frank accordingly turned the speedwell's head toward the island, and just at that moment the sail-boat came in sight. the champion--for that was her name--was classed among the swiftest sailers about lawrence; in fact, there was no sloop that could beat her. she was a clinker-built boat, about seventeen feet long, and her breadth of beam--that is, the distance across her from one side to the other--was great compared with her length. she was rigged like frank's boat, having one mast and carrying a mainsail and jib; but as her sails were considerably larger than those of the speedwell, and as she was a much lighter boat, the boys all expected that she would reach the island, which the young skippers always regarded as "home" in their races, long before the speedwell. the champion was sailed by two boys. william johnson, her owner, sat in the stern steering, and ben. lake, a quiet, odd sort of a boy, sat on one of the middle thwarts managing the sails. as soon as she rounded the lock, harry butler sprang to his feet, and, seizing a small coil of rope that lay in the boat, called out, "bill! if you will catch this line, we'll tow you." "no, i thank you," answered william. "i think we can get along very well without any of your help." "yes," chimed in ben. lake, "and we'll catch you before you are half-way to the island." "we'll see about that!" shouted george, in reply. by this time the speedwell was fairly before the wind, the sails were hauled taut, the boys seated themselves on the windward gunwale, and the race began in earnest. but they soon found that it would be much longer than they had imagined. instead of the slow, straining motion which they had expected, the speedwell flew through the water like a duck, mounting every little swell in fine style, and rolling the foam back from her bow in great masses. she was, beyond a doubt, a fast sailer. george and harry shouted and hurrahed until they were hoarse, and frank was so overjoyed that he could scarcely speak. "how she sails!" exclaimed harry. "if the champion beats this, she will have to go faster than she does now." their pursuers were evidently much surprised at this sudden exhibition of the speedwell's "sailing qualities;" and william hauled more to the wind and "crowded" his boat until she stood almost on her side, and the waves frequently washed into her. "they will overtake us," said frank, at length; "but i guess we can keep ahead of them until we cross the river." and so it proved. the champion began to gain--it was very slowly, but still she did gain--and when the speedwell had accomplished half the distance across the river, their pursuers were not more than three or four rods behind. at length they reached the island, and, as they rounded the point, they came to a spot where the wind was broken by the trees. the speedwell gradually slackened her headway, and the champion, which could sail much faster than she before a light breeze, gained rapidly, and soon came alongside. "there is only one fault with your boat, frank," said william; "her sails are too small. she can carry twice as much canvas as you have got on her now." "yes," answered frank, "i find that i have made a mistake; but the fact is, i did not know how she would behave, and was afraid she would capsize. my first hard work shall be to make some new sails." "you showed us a clean pair of heels, any way," said ben. lake, clambering over into the speedwell. "why, how nice and handy every thing is! every rope is just where you can lay your hand on it." "let's go ashore and see how we are off for a crop of strawberries," said harry. william had pulled down his sails when he came alongside, and while the conversation was going on the speedwell had been towing the champion toward the island, and, just as harry spoke, their bows ran high upon the sand. the boys sprang out, and spent two hours in roaming over the island in search of strawberries; but it was a little too early in the season for them, and, although there were "oceans" of green ones, they gathered hardly a pint of ripe ones. after they had eaten the refreshments which frank had brought with him, they started for home. as the wind blew from the main shore, they were obliged to "tack," and the speedwell again showed some fine sailing, and when the champion entered the creek, she was not a stone's throw behind. frank reached home that night a good deal elated at his success. after tying the speedwell to the wharf, he pulled down the sails and carried them into his shop. he had promised, before leaving george and harry, to meet them at five o'clock the next morning to start on a fishing excursion, and, consequently, could do nothing toward the new sails for his boat for two days. chapter v. a fishing excursion. precisely at the time agreed upon, frank might have been seen sitting on the wharf in front of mr. butler's house. in his hand he carried a stout, jointed fish-pole, neatly stowed away in a strong bag of drilling, and under his left arm hung his fish-basket, suspended by a broad belt, which crossed his breast. in this he carried his hooks, reels, trolling-lines, dinner, and other things necessary for the trip. brave stood quietly by his side, patiently waiting for the word to start. they were not obliged to wait long, for hasty steps sounded on the gravel walk that led up to the house, the gate swung open, and george and harry appeared, their arms filled with their fishing-tackle. "you're on time, i see," said harry, as he climbed down into a large skiff that was tied to the wharf, "give us your fish-pole." frank accordingly handed his pole and basket down to harry, who stowed them away in the boat. he and george then went into the boat-house, and one brought out a pair of oars and a sail, which they intended to use if the wind should be fair, and the other carried two pails of minnows, which had been caught the night before, to serve as bait. they then got into the boat, and frank took one oar and harry the other, and brave stationed himself at his usual place in the bow. george took the helm, and they began to move swiftly down the creek toward the river. about a quarter of a mile below the mouth of the creek was a place, covering half an acre, where the water was about four feet deep, and the bottom was covered with smooth, flat stones. this was known as the "black-bass ground," and large numbers of these fish were caught there every season. george turned the boat's head toward this place, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, drew out a "trolling-line," and, dropping the hook into the water behind the boat, began to unwind the line. the trolling-hook (such as is generally used in fishing for black-bass) can be used only in a strong current, or when the boat is in rapid motion through the water. the hook is concealed by feathers or a strip of red flannel, and a piece of shining metal in the shape of a spoon-bowl is fastened to it in such a manner as to revolve around it when the hook is drawn rapidly through the water. this is fastened to the end of a long, stout line, and trailed over the stern of the boat, whose motion keeps it near the surface. it can be seen for a great distance in the water, and the fish, mistaking it for their prey, dart forward and seize it. a few moments' pulling brought them to the bass ground, and george, holding the stick on which the line had been wound in his hand, waited impatiently for a "bite." they had hardly entered the ground when several heavy pulls at the line announced that the bait had been taken. george jerked in return, and, springing to his feet, commenced hauling in the line hand over hand, while whatever was at the other end jerked and pulled in a way that showed that he was unwilling to approach the surface. the boys ceased rowing, and frank exclaimed, "you've got a big one there, george. don't give him any slack, or you'll lose him." "haul in lively," chimed in harry. "there he breaches!" he continued, as the fish--a fine bass, weighing, as near as they could guess, six pounds--leaped entirely out of the water in his mad efforts to escape. "i tell you he's a beauty." frank took up the "dip-net," which the boys had used in catching the minnows, and, standing by george's side, waited for him to bring the fish within reach, so that he might assist in "landing" him. the struggle was exciting, but short. the bass was very soon exhausted, and george drew him alongside the boat, in which he was soon safely deposited under one of the seats. they rowed around the ground for half an hour, each taking his turn at the line, and during that time they captured a dozen fish. the bass then began to stop biting; and frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat toward the "perch-bed," which was some distance further down the river. it was situated at the outer edge of a bank of weeds, which lined the river on both sides. the weeds sprouted from the bottom in the spring, and by fall they reached the hight of four or five feet above the surface of the water. they were then literally swarming with wild ducks; but at the time of which we write, as it was only the latter part of june, they had not yet appeared above the water. the perch-bed was soon reached, and harry, who was pulling the bow-oar, rose to his feet, and, raising the anchor, which was a large stone fastened to the boat by a long, stout rope, lifted it over the side, and let it down carefully into the water. the boat swung around until her bow pointed up stream, and the boys found themselves in the right spot to enjoy a good day's sport. frank, who was always foremost in such matters, had his pole rigged in a trice, and, baiting his hook with one of the minnows, dropped it into the water just outside of the weeds. half a dozen hungry perch instantly rose to the surface, and one of them, weighing nearly a pound, seized the bait and darted off with it, and the next moment was dangling through the air toward the boat. "that's a good-sized fish," said harry, as he fastened his reel on his pole. "yes," answered frank, taking his prize off the hook and throwing it into the boat; "and we shall have fine sport for a little while." "but they will stop biting when the sun gets a little warmer; so we had better make the most of our time," observed george. by this time the other boys had rigged their poles, and soon two more large perch lay floundering in the boat. for almost two hours they enjoyed fine sport, as frank had said they would, and they were too much engaged to think of being hungry. but soon the fish began to stop biting, and harry, who had waited impatiently for almost five minutes for a "nibble," drew up his line and opened a locker in the stern of the boat, and, taking out a basket containing their dinner, was about to make an inroad on its contents, when he discovered a boat, rowed by a boy about his own age, shoot rapidly around a point that extended for a considerable distance out into the river, and turn toward the spot where they were anchored. "boys," he exclaimed, "here comes charley morgan!" "charley morgan," repeated frank. "who is he?" "why, he is the new-comer," answered george. "he lives in the large brick house on the hill." charley morgan had formerly lived in new york. his father was a speculator, and was looked upon by some as a wealthy man; but it was hinted by those who knew him best that if his debts were all paid he would have but little ready money left. be that as it may, mr. morgan and his family, at any rate, lived in style, and seemed desirous of outshining all their neighbors and acquaintances. becoming weary of city life, they had decided to move into the country, and, purchasing a fine village lot in lawrence, commenced building a house upon it. although the village could boast of many fine dwellings, the one on tower hill, owned by mr. morgan, surpassed them all, and, as is always the case in such places, every one was eager to discover who was to occupy the elegant mansion. when the house was completed, mr. morgan returned to new york to bring on his family, leaving three or four "servants," as he called them, to look after his affairs; and the julia burton landed at the wharf, one pleasant morning, a splendid open carriage, drawn by a span of jet-black horses. the carriage contained mr. morgan and his family, consisting of his wife and one son--the latter about seventeen years old. at the time of his introduction to the reader they had been in the village about a week. charles, by his haughty, overbearing manner, had already driven away from him the most sensible of the village boys who had become acquainted with him; but there are those every-where who seem, by some strange fatality, to choose the most unworthy of their acquaintances for their associates; and there were several boys in lawrence who looked upon charles as a first-rate fellow and a very desirable companion. george and harry, although they had frequently seen the "new-comer," had not had an opportunity to get acquainted with him; and frank who, as we have said, lived in the outskirts of the village, and who had been very busy at work for the last week on his boat, had not seen him at all. "what sort of a boy is he?" inquired the latter, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously broken off. "i don't know," replied harry. "some of the boys like him, but ben. lake says he's the biggest rascal in the village. he's got two or three guns, half a dozen fish-poles, and, by what i hear the boys say, he must be a capital sportsman. but he tells the most ridiculous stories about what he has done." by this time charles had almost reached them, and, when he came alongside, he rested on his oars and called out, "well, boys, how many fish have you caught?" "so many," answered george, holding up the string, which contained over a hundred perch and black-bass. "have you caught any thing?" "not much to brag of," answered charles; "i hooked up a few little perch just behind the point. but that is a tip-top string of yours." "yes, pretty fair," answered harry. "you see we know where to go." "that does make some difference," said charles. "but as soon as i know the good places, i'll show you how to catch fish." "we will show you the good fishing-grounds any time," said george. "oh, i don't want any of your help. i can tell by the looks of a place whether there are any fish to be caught or not. but you ought to see the fishing-grounds we have in new york," he continued. "why, many a time i've caught three hundred in less than half an hour, and some of them would weigh ten pounds." "did you catch them with a hook and line?" inquired george. "of course i did! what else should i catch them with? i should like to see one of you trying to handle a ten or fifteen-pound fish with nothing but a trout-pole." "could you do it?" inquired harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh. "do it? i _have_ done it many a time. but is there any hunting around here?" "plenty of it." "well," continued charles, "i walked all over the woods this morning, and couldn't find any thing." "it is not the season for hunting now," said george; "but in the fall there are lots of ducks, pigeons, squirrels, and turkeys, and in the winter the woods are full of minks, and now and then a bear or deer; and the swamps are just the places to kill muskrats." "i'd just like to go hunting with some of you. i'll bet i can kill more game in a day than any one in the village." the boys made no reply to this confident assertion, for the fact was that they were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak. "i'll bet you haven't got any thing in the village that can come up to this," continued charles; and as he spoke he raised a light, beautifully-finished rifle from the bottom of the boat, and held it up to the admiring gaze of the boys. "that is a beauty," said harry, who wished to continue the conversation as long as possible, in order to hear some more of charles's "large stories." "how far will it shoot?" "it cost me a hundred dollars," answered charles, "and i've killed bears and deer with it, many a time, as far as across this river here." charles did not hesitate to say this, for he was talking only to "simple-minded country boys," as he called them, and he supposed he could say what he pleased and they would believe it. his auditors, who before had been hardly able to contain themselves, were now almost bursting with laughter. frank and george, however, managed to draw on a sober face, while harry turned away his head and stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth. "i tell you," continued charles, not noticing the condition his hearers were in, "i've seen some pretty tough times in my life. once, when i was hunting in the adirondack mountains, in the northern part of michigan, i was attacked by indians, and came very near being captured, and the way i fought was a caution to white folks. this little rifle came handy then, i tell you. but i must hurry along now; i promised to go riding with the old man this afternoon." and he dipped the oars into the water, and the little boat shot rapidly up the river. it was well that he took his departure just as he did, for our three boys could not possibly have contained themselves a moment longer. they could not wait for him to get out of sight, but, lying back in the boat, they laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks. "well, frank, what do you think of him?" inquired harry, as soon as he could speak. "i think the less we have to do with him the better," answered frank. "i did think," said harry, stopping now and then to indulge in a hearty fit of laughter, "that there might be some good things about him; but a boy that can tell such whopping big lies as he told must be very small potatoes. only think of catching three hundred fish in less than half an hour, and with only one hook and line! why, that would be ten every minute, and that is as many as two men could manage. and then for him to talk about that pop-gun of his shooting as far as across this river!--why, it's a mile and a half--and i know it wouldn't shoot forty rods, and kill. but the best of all was his hunting among the adirondack mountains, in michigan, and having to defend himself against the indians; that's a good joke." and harry laid back in the boat again, and laughed and shouted until his sides ached. "he must be a very ungrateful fellow," said frank, at length. "didn't you notice how disrespectfully he spoke of his father? he called him his 'old man.' if i had a father, i'd never speak so lightly of him." "yes, i noticed that," said george. "but," he continued, reaching for the basket which harry, after helping himself most bountifully, had placed on the middle seat, "i'm hungry as blazes, and think i can do justice to the good things mother has put up for us." after eating their dinner they got out their fishing-tackle again; but the perch had stopped biting, and, after waiting patiently for half an hour without feeling a nibble, they unjointed their poles, drew up the anchor, and frank seated himself at the helm, while george and harry took the oars and pulled toward home. chapter vi. the regulators one of the range of hills which extended around the western side of the village was occupied by several families, known as the "hillers." they were ignorant, degraded people, living in miserable hovels, and obtaining a precarious subsistence by hunting, fishing, and stealing. with them the villagers rarely, if ever, had intercourse, and respectable persons seldom crossed their thresholds. the principal man among the hillers was known as bill powell. he was a giant in strength and stature, and used to boast that he could visit "any hen-roost in the village every night in the week, and carry off a dozen chickens each time, without being nabbed." he was very fond of liquor, too indolent to work, and spent most of his time, when out of jail, on the river, fishing, or roaming through the woods with his gun. he had one son, whose name was lee, and a smarter boy it was hard to find. he possessed many good traits of character, but, as they had never been developed, it was difficult to discover them. he had always lived in the midst of evil influences, led by the example of a drunken, brutal father, and surrounded by wicked companions, and it is no wonder that his youthful aspirations were in the wrong direction. lee and his associates, as they were not obliged so attend school, and were under no parental control, always amused themselves as they saw it. most of their time was spent on the river or in the woods, and, when weary of this sport, the orchards and melon-patches around the village, although closely guarded, were sure to suffer at their hands; and they planned and executed their plundering expeditions with so much skill and cunning, that they were rarely detected. a day or two after the events related in the preceding chapter transpired, charles morgan, in company with two or three of his chosen companions, was enjoying a sail on the river. during their conversation, one of the boys chanced to say something about the hillers, and charles inquired who they were. his companions gave him the desired information, and ended by denouncing them in the strongest terms. charles, after hearing them through, exclaimed, "i'd just like to catch one of those boys robbing our orchard or hen-roost. one or the of us would get a pummeling, sure as shooting." "yes," said one of the boys, "but, you see, they do not go alone. if they did, it would be an easy matter to catch them. but they all go together, and half of them keep watch, and the rest bag the plunder; and they move around so still that even the dogs don't hear them." "i should think you fellows here in the village would take the matter into your own hands," said charles. "what do you mean?" inquired his companions. "why don't you club together, and every time you see one of the hillers, go to work and thrash him like blazes? i guess, after you had half-killed two or three of them, they would learn to let things alone." "i guess they would, too," said one of the boys. "suppose we get up a company of fifteen or twenty fellows," resumed charles, "and see how it works. i'll bet my eyes that, after we've whipped half a dozen of them, they won't dare to show their faces in the village again." "that's the way to do it," said one of the boys. "i'll join the company, for one." the others readily fell in with charles's proposal, and they spent some time talking it over and telling what they intended to do when they could catch the hillers, when one of the boys suddenly exclaimed, "i think, after all, that we shall have some trouble in carrying out our plans. although there are plenty of fellows in the village who would be glad to join the company, there are some who must not know any thing about it, or the fat will all be in the fire." "who are they?" demanded charles. "why, there are frank nelson, and george and harry butler, and bill johnson, and a dozen others, who could knock the whole thing into a cocked hat, in less than no time." "could they? i'd just like to see them try it on," said charles, with a confident air. "they would have a nice time of it. how would they go to work?" "i am afraid that, if they saw us going to whip the hillers, they would interfere." "they would, eh? i'd like to see them undertake to hinder us. can't twenty fellows whip a dozen?" "i don't know. every one calls frank nelson and his set the best boys in the village. they never fight if they can help it; but they are plaguy smart fellows, i tell you; and, if we once get them aroused, we shall have a warm time of it, i remember a little circumstance that happened last winter. we had a fort in the field behind the school-house, and one night we were out there, snowballing, and i saw frank nelson handle two of the largest boys in his class. there were about a dozen boys in the fort--and they were the ones that always go with frank--and all the rest of the school were against them. the fort stood on a little hill, and we were almost half an hour capturing it, and we wouldn't ever have taken it if the wall hadn't been broken down. we would get almost up to the fort, and they would rush out and drive us down again. at last we succeeded in getting to the top of the hill, and our boys began to tumble over the walls, and i hope i may be shot if they didn't throw us out as fast as we could get in, and--" "oh, i don't care any thing about that," interrupted charles, who could not bear to hear any one but himself praised. "if i had been there, i would have run up and thrown _them_ out." "and you could have done it easy enough," said one of the boys, who had for some time remained silent. "frank nelson and his set are not such great fellows, after all." "of course they ain't," said the other. "they feel big enough; but i guess, if we get this company we have spoken of started, and they undertake to interfere with us, we will take them down a peg or two." "that's the talk!" said charles. "i never let any one stop me when i have once made up my mind to do a thing. i would as soon knock frank nelson down as any body else." by this time the boat, which had been headed toward the shore, entered the creek, and charles drew up to the wharf, and, after setting his companions ashore, and directing them to speak to every one whom they thought would be willing to join the company, and to no one else, he drew down the sails, and pulled up the creek toward the place where he kept his boat. a week passed, and things went on swimmingly. thirty boys had enrolled themselves as members of the regulators, as the company was called, and charles, who had been chosen captain, had carried out his plans so quietly, that he was confident that no one outside of the company knew of its existence. their arrangements had all been completed, and the regulators waited only for a favorable opportunity to carry their plans into execution. frank, during this time, had remained at home, working in his garden or shop, and knew nothing of what was going on. one afternoon he wrote a letter to his cousin archie, and, after supper, set out, with brave at his heels, to carry it to the post-office. he stopped on the way for george and harry butler, who were always ready to accompany him. on the steps of the post-office they met three or four of their companions, and, after a few moments' conversation, william johnson suddenly inquired, "have you joined the new society, frank?" "what society?" "why, the regulators." "i don't know what you mean," said frank. "yes, i guess they have managed to keep it pretty quiet," said william. "they don't want any outsiders to know any thing about it. they asked me to join in with them, but i told them that they ought to know better than to propose such a thing to me. then they tried to make me promise that i wouldn't say any thing about it, but i would make no such promise, for--" "why, bill, what are you talking about?" inquired harry. "you rattle it off as if we knew all about it." "haven't you heard any thing about it, either?" inquired william, in surprise. "i was certain that they would ask you to join. well, the amount of it is that charley morgan and a lot of his particular friends have been organizing a company for the purpose of thrashing the hillers, and making them stop robbing hen-roosts and orchards and cutting up such shines." "yes," chimed in james porter, "there are about thirty of them, and they say that they are going to whip the hillers out of the village." "well, that's news to me," said frank. "for my part," said thomas benton, "i, of course, know that the hillers ought to be punished; but i do not think it is the duty of us boys to take the law into our own hands." "nor i," said james porter. "well, _i_ do," said harry, who, as we have said, was an impetuous, fiery fellow, "and i believe i will join the regulators, and help whip the rascals out of the country. they ought, every one of them, to be thrashed for stealing and--" "now, see here, harry," interrupted george. "you know very well that such a plan will never succeed, and it _ought_ not to. you have been taught that it is wrong to take things that do not belong to you, but with the hillers the case is different; their parents teach them to steal, and they are obliged to do it." "besides," said frank, "this summary method of correcting them will not break up their bad habits; kindness will accomplish much more than force." "kindness!" repeated harry, sneeringly; "as if kindness could have any effect on a hiller!" "they can tell when they are kindly treated as well as any one else," said george. "and another thing," said ben. lake; "these regulators must be a foolish set of fellows to suppose that the hillers are going to stand still and be whipped. i say, as an old sea-captain once said, when it was proposed to take a man-o'-war with a whale-boat, 'i guess it will be a puttering job.'" "well," said james, "i shall do all i can to prevent a fight." "so will i," said frank. "_i_ won't," said harry, who, with his arms buried almost to the elbows in his pockets, was striding backward and forward across the steps. "i say the hillers ought to be thrashed." "i'm afraid," said william, without noticing what harry had remarked, "that our interference will be the surest way to bring on a fight; because, after i refused to join the company, they told me that if any of us attempted to defend the hillers, or break up the company, they would thrash us, too." "we don't want to break up their company," said frank, with a laugh. "we must have a talk with them, and try to show them how unreasonable they are." "here they come, now," said george, pointing up the road. the boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw the regulators just turning the corner of the street that led to mr. morgan's house. they came around in fine order, marching four abreast, and turned up the street that led to the post-office. they had evidently been well drilled, for they kept step admirably. "they look nice, don't they?" said ben. "yes," answered george; "and if they were enlisted in a good cause, i would off with my hat and give them three cheers." the regulators had almost reached the post-office, when they suddenly set up a loud shout, and, breaking ranks, started on a full run down the street. the boys saw the reason for this, when they discovered lee powell coming up the road that led from the river, with a large string of fish in his hand. he always had good luck, but he seemed to have been more fortunate than usual, for his load was about as heavy as he could conveniently carry. he walked rapidly along, evidently very much occupied with his own thoughts, when, suddenly, two or three stones came skipping over the ground, and aroused him from his reverie. he looked up in surprise, and discovered that his enemies were so close to him that flight was useless. the regulators drew nearer and nearer, and the stones fell thick about the object of their wrath, until, finally, one struck him on the shoulder, and another knocked his cap from his head. "i can't stand that," said frank; and, springing from the steps, he started to the rescue, followed by all of his companions, (except harry, who still paced the steps), and they succeeded in throwing themselves between lee and his assailants. several of the regulators faltered on seeing lee thus defended; but charles, followed by half a dozen of his "right-hand men," advanced, and attempted to force his way between frank and his companions. "hold on, here!" said frank, as he gently, but firmly, resisted charles's attempts to push him aside. "what are you trying to do?" "what business is that of yours?" answered charles, roughly, as he continued his efforts to reach lee. "you question me as if you were my master. stand aside, if you don't want to get yourself in trouble." "you don't intend to hurt lee, do you?" "yes, i do. but it's none of your business, any way. get out of the way!" "has he ever done you any harm?" "it's none of your business, i say!" shouted charles, now almost beside himself with rage. "and i want you to keep your hands off me!" he continued, as frank seized his arm, which he had raised to strike lee, who stood close behind his protector. frank released his hold, and charles sprang forward again, and, dodging frank's grasp, slipped under his arm, and attempted to seize the hiller. but frank was as quick as a cat in his motions; and, before charles had time to strike a blow, he seized him with a grip that brought from him a cry of pain, and seated him, unceremoniously, on the ground. as soon as charles could regain his feet, he called out, "here it is, boys--just as i expected! never mind the hiller, but let's go to work and give the other fellows a thrashing that they won't get over in a month." and he sprang toward frank, against whom he seemed to cherish an especial grudge, followed by a dozen regulators, who brandished their fists as if they intended to annihilate lee's gallant defenders. but, just as charles was about to attack frank, a new actor appeared. harry butler, who had greatly changed his mind in regard to "thrashing the hillers," seeing that the attack was about to be renewed, sprang down the steps, and caught charles in his arms, and threw him to the ground, like a log. the others had been no less successful in repulsing their assailants; and, when charles rose to his feet, he saw three or four of the regulators, who had followed him to the attack, sprawling on the ground, and the rest retreating precipitately. "now," said harry, "let's stop this. we've had enough of it." but charles, and several more of the regulators, seemed to be of a different opinion, and were about to recommence their hostile demonstrations, when harry continued, "we've only been playing with you so far charley; so you had better not try to come any more of your regulator tricks on us. we don't want to fight, but we shall defend ourselves." "if you had attended to your own affairs, you would not have been obliged to defend yourselves," said charles, sullenly. "what sort of fellows do you suppose we are?" said harry. "if you expected us to stand still and see thirty fellows pitch on one, you are very much mistaken." "come, lee," said frank, taking the former by the arm, "i guess we can go now. we'll see you out of harm's way." the crest-fallen regulators divided right and left, and allowed frank and his companions to depart, unmolested. they accompanied lee almost to the miserable hovel he called "home," and, when about to bid him good-night, he said, with some feeling, "i'll remember you, boys; and, if it ever comes handy, you will find that lee powell has got feelings, as well as any one else." and he sprang over a fence, and disappeared. chapter vii. the revenge. while frank and his companions were accompanying lee toward home, some of the regulators were indulging in feelings of the deepest malice; and there were about a dozen of them--frank's old enemies--who determined that he should not go unpunished. but there were others who began to see how cowardly they had acted in attacking a defenseless boy, for the only reason that he was a bad boy, and to fear that they had lost the good-will of frank and his associates. the village boys, with a few exceptions, were accustomed to look up to frank as a sort of leader; not that he aspired to the position, but his generosity, and the easy way he had of settling the disputes that sometimes arose among the boys, had won for him many a fast friend. we have seen, however, that he was not beloved by all; every good boy has his enemies, and frank, of course, had his share of them. they were boys who were jealous of him, and hated him because he held a position in the estimation of the village people to which they could not attain. but this class was very small, comprising, as we have said, about a dozen of the regulators; and, while they were enraged at their defeat, and studying plans for revenge, the others were repenting of their folly, and trying to think of some way by which they might regain their lost reputation. charles's overbearing and haughty manner was so different from frank's kind, obliging ways, that they had already grown tired of his company, and began to think seriously of having nothing more to do with him; and the things that had just transpired served to convince them that the sooner they left him the better. as soon as lee and his gallant defenders had disappeared, one of the regulators remarked, "well, boys, i don't call this a paying business, trying to thrash a boy who has done us no harm." "that's my opinion," said another. "and i, for one, wish i had kept out of this scrape," said a third. "so do i," said the one who had first spoken. "oh, you begin to back down, do you, you cowards?" exclaimed charles, who was taken completely by surprise by this sudden change of affairs. "_i_ never give up till i am whipped. if it hadn't been for my lame hand, i would have knocked some of those fellows into cocked hats. i'll fix that frank nelson, the next time i catch him." "why didn't you do it to-night?" inquired one of the boys, sneeringly. "i've got a lame hand, i tell you," roared the bully; "and i don't want you to speak to me in that way again; if you do, you and i will have a meeting." "that would be an unpleasant job for you, to say the least," said one of the boys; "the most of us are heartily sick of your company, and we have been talking, for two or three days, of sending in our resignations. now, boys," he continued, "this is as good an opportunity as we shall have; so those that won't have any thing more to do with regulating, say 'i!'" "i! i!" burst from a score of throats. "now," he resumed, turning to charles, "good-by; and, if you ever wish to recruit another company, you need not call on any of us." so saying, he walked off, followed by nearly all the regulators; those who remained were frank's enemies and rivals. "well, boys," said charles, as soon as the others had gone, "there are a few of us left, and we can annoy the fellows who think they are too good to associate with us in the worst way. let us adjourn to our barn, where we can talk the matter over." a few moments' walk brought them to mr. morgan's house, and, when they entered the long carriage-way that led up to the barn, charles said, "now, boys, you stay here, and i'll go in and get a light." he ran into the house, and soon reappeared with a lantern in each hand, and led the way toward the barn. he unlocked the door, and he and his companions entered; and, after allowing them time to examine, to their satisfaction, the splendid equipage that had attracted so much attention the morning they arrived at the village, charles proceeded to call the meeting to order. "now, boys," said he, "we don't intend to disband, do we?" "no," answered several. "then, the first thing for us to do is to change our name, for we don't want to let those cowardly sneaks that deserted us to-night know any thing about us. what shall we be called?" several names were proposed, but they did not suit charles. at length, one of the boys inquired, "what name would you like?" "i think that 'midnight rangers' would be a good name for us," answered charles. "that's a splendid name!" "now," continued charles, "we must change our plan of operations a little. we must give up the idea of thrashing the hillers for awhile, because there are not enough of us; but i should like it, if we could go to work and whip every one of those fellows that stuck up for lee powell to-night, especially frank nelson." "so would i," answered william gage, whom charles looked upon as his 'right-hand man;' "but it wouldn't do to attempt it, for he has got too many friends. we must shoot his dog, or steal his boat, or do something of that kind. it would plague him more than a dozen whippings." "that's so!" exclaimed another of the rangers. "if we could only go up there, some dark night, and steal his scow, and run her out into the river, and burn her, wouldn't he be mad?" "yes," chimed in another, "but it wouldn't pay even to attempt that. he always keeps his boats chained up, and the noise we would make in getting them loose would be sure to start that dog of his, and then we should have a dusty time, i reckon." "i guess so, too," said william gage. "whatever we do, we must be careful not to start that dog, for he would go through fire and water to catch us; and, if he ever got hold of one of us--" and william shrugged his shoulders, significantly. "hasn't he got an orchard or melon-patch that we could visit?" inquired charles. "no," answered one of the rangers; "but he's got as nice a strawberry-patch as ever laid out-doors. but it's a little too early for strawberries." "who cares for that?" said charles. "we don't go to get the fruit; we only want to pay him for defending the hiller--meddling with other people's business. it's too late to do any thing to-night," he added, glancing at his watch, "but let us go there to-morrow night, and pull up every strawberry-plant we can lay our hands on. you know, we can do as much mischief of that kind as we please, and it will all be laid to the hillers." "where shall we meet?" inquired one of the rangers. "come here at precisely seven o'clock; and, remember, don't lisp a single word to any one about it, for, if you do, we shall be found out." the rangers were about to disperse, when one of them suddenly inquired, "will not folks mistrust that something is in the wind, if they see us all starting up the road at that time of night?" "that's a fact," said william gage. "wouldn't it be a better plan for us to meet in the woods, at the back of mrs. nelson's lot? let us all be there at eight o'clock; and, if no two of us go in company, no one will be the wiser for it." "that is the best plan," said charles. "now, remember, don't say any thing about it." "all right!" was the answer; and, in a few moments more, the rangers were on their way home. the next evening, at seven o'clock, charles left his home, and, avoiding the principal streets as much as possible, started toward the place of rendezvous, where he arrived at almost precisely the time agreed upon. he found the rangers all waiting for him; and, as it was already dark, it was decided to commence operations immediately. "we want a guide," said charles, who, of course, was captain of the rangers. "who knows exactly where that strawberry-bed lies? for, if we have to fumble about much, we shall start that dog, and then, it strikes me, from what i have seen and heard of him, we shall be in a predicament." "you may safely bet on that," said one of the boys; "he's a savage fellow." "and a first-rate watch-dog, too," observed another. "well," said charles, "all we have to do is to move so still that you can't hear a leaf rustle; but, if we do rouse the dog, let each one grab a stone and let him have it." "that would only make a bad matter worse," said one. "i am afraid we shall have more than we bargained for, if we undertake that," remarked another. "let the cowards go home, and the rest come with me," said charles, impatiently. "bill," he continued, turning to his right-hand man, "can you act as guide?" "yes." "then, lead on." william led the way out of the woods, across a narrow meadow, where they came to the fence that inclosed mrs. nelson's garden. "now, boys," he whispered, "keep still as mice; but, if we do start the dog, don't stop to fight him, but run like white-heads." the rangers climbed over the fence, and followed their guide, who threaded his way through the trees and bushes with a skill worthy of a better cause, and a few moments sufficed to bring them to the strawberry-patch. "be careful, boys," said charles, in a low whisper. "don't leave a single plant in the ground." the young scapegraces worked with a will, and, in a few moments, the strawberry-bed--which was frank's pride, next to his museum, and on which he had expended a great amount of labor--was almost ruined; and so quietly did they proceed in their work of wanton destruction, that brave, although a very vigilant dog, was not aroused, and the marauders retraced their steps, and reached the woods in safety. "there," said charles, at length, "that's what i call doing it up brown. it almost pays off my debts. i don't think they will receive much benefit from those strawberries this year." "they have got some nice pears," said one of the rangers, "and when they get ripe, we must plan another expedition." "that's so," answered charles. "but we must not forget that we have others to settle with; and we must meet, some time next week, and determine who shall be visited next." on the following morning, frank arose, as usual, at four o'clock, and, shouldering his fish-pole, started off through the woods to catch a mess of trout, intending to be back by breakfast-time. but, as the morning was cloudy, the trout bit voraciously, and in the excitement of catching them, he forgot that he was hungry, and it was almost noon before he reached home. as soon as he entered the house, aunt hannah exclaimed, "master frank, you were altogether too good to lee powell, the other night." "what makes you think so?" he inquired. at this moment julia, hearing his voice, burst in from the dining-room, exclaiming, "frank, the hillers have robbed your strawberry-patch!" "not robbed it, exactly," said his mother, who had followed close after julia, "but they have completely ruined it. there are not a dozen plants left in the ground." frank was so surprised that he could scarcely utter a word; and, hardly waiting to hear what his mother said, he hurried from the house toward the strawberry-patch. it did, indeed, present a strange and desolate appearance. the bed had covered nearly half an acre; and, so well had the rangers performed their work, that but few plants were left standing. the sight was enough to upset even frank's well-established patience, and he exclaimed, "if i had the rascals that did this mischief, i could pay them for it, without troubling my conscience much." "you must tell lee powell, the next time you see him," said julia, who had followed him, "that he ought not to--" "lee didn't do it," said frank. "what makes you think so?" "see here," said frank, bending over a footprint in the soft earth; "the hillers all go bare-foot, and these fellows wore boots. i know who did it, as well as if i had seen them. it was the work of charles morgan and a few of his particular friends. they must have been very still about it, for brave didn't hear them." "i don't see what object they had in doing it," said julia. "i know what they did it for," said frank; "and if i ever catch--but," he added, checking himself, "there's no use in grumbling about it; no amount of fretting will repair the damage." so saying, he led the way toward the house. it did not take him long to don his working-suit, and, shouldering his hoe, he returned to the strawberry-bed, and, in less than an hour, the plants were all in the ground again. chapter viii. how to spend the "fourth." that evening, after supper, frank retired to his room, and, settling himself in his comfortable armchair, was soon deeply interested in one of bayard taylor's works. while thus engaged, a light step was heard in the hall, and, afterward, a gentle rap at his door, and julia came into the room. "now, frank," she began, "i don't want you to read to-night." "why not?" he inquired. "why, you know that day after to-morrow is the fourth of july, and--" "and you haven't got your fire-works yet?" interrupted frank. "that's it, exactly." "well," said her brother, rising to put away his book, "then, i suppose, i shall have to go down to the village and get you some. what do you want?" "i want all the things that are written down on this paper." frank took the paper and read, "three packs of fire-crackers, four boxes of torpedoes, three roman candles, half a dozen pin-wheels, and a dozen sky-rockets." "whew!" said frank, as he folded up the paper and put it into his pocket, "that's what i should call going it strong! well, i'll tell mr. sheldon [the store-keeper] to send up all the fire-works he has got." julia burst into a loud laugh, and, the next moment, frank and brave were out of the gate, on their way to the village. in the mean time several of frank's acquaintances had been amusing themselves on the village common with a game of ball. at length it grew too dark for their sport to continue, and one of the boys proposed that they should decide upon some pleasant way of spending the fourth. in spite of the humiliating defeat which charles morgan and his companions had sustained, they were present; and the former, who had been making every exertion to regain the good-will of the village boys, exclaimed, "let's go hunting." "no, no," shouted several. "the game in the woods isn't good for any thing this time of year, charley," said james porter, who, although he cordially disliked charles, always tried to treat him kindly. "who cares for that?" exclaimed charles, who, having always been accustomed to lead and govern his city associates, could not endure the steadfastness with which these "rude country boys," as he called them, held to their own opinions. although, during the whole afternoon, he had been endeavoring to work himself into their favor, he was angry, in an instant, at the manner in which they opposed his proposition. he had been considerably abashed at his recent defeat, and he knew that it had humbled him in the estimation of the rangers, who, although they still "held true" to him, had changed their minds in regard to the prowess of their leader, and began to regard him, as one of them remarked, as a "mere bag of wind." charles was not long in discovering this, and he determined to seize the first opportunity that was offered to retrieve his reputation. hastily casting his eyes over the group that surrounded him, he discovered that frank and harry, the ones he most feared, were still absent. this was exactly what he had wished for. with the assistance of his companions, the rangers, who, he was confident, would uphold him, he could settle up all old scores, without fear of suffering in return. addressing himself to james, he continued, in an insulting tone, "we don't go to get the game to _eat_, you blockhead, but only for the sport of killing it." "i know that," answered james, in a mild voice, not the least disconcerted by the other's furious manner; "but wouldn't it be better to--" "shut up!" shouted charles. "i'll do just as i please. besides, i never allow any one to dictate to me." "i didn't intend to dictate at all, charley. i was going to say--" "are you going to keep still," roared the bully, "or shall i make you?" and he began to advance toward james. "see here, old fellow," said ben. lake, suddenly striding up, and placing himself directly in front of charles, "don't begin another fight, now." "i'll show you whether i will or not!" exclaimed charles; and, turning to the rangers, he continued, "come on, boys! we can have things all our own way now. we'll see if--" "hold on!" shouted william johnson. "here comes frank. now you had better take yourself off in a hurry." charles's hostile demonstrations ceased in an instant; and, hastily whispering a few words to the rangers, they disappeared. in a few moments, frank, accompanied by george and harry, arrived, and the boys, in a few words, explained to them what had just happened. "i hope," said frank, "that charley will see, before long, how unreasonably he acts. he makes himself, and every one around him, uncomfortable." "well," said james porter, "all i have got to say is that those fellows who go with him are very foolish. however, we can't help it. but, come," he added, "we were trying to find some pleasant way of spending the fourth." "let's have a picnic on strawberry island," said one. "we want something exciting," said another "let's have a boat-race." "come, frank," said ben. lake, "let's hear what you have got to say. suggest something." "well," answered frank, who was always ready with some plan for amusement, "i have been thinking, for two or three days, of something which, i believe, will afford us a great deal of sport. in the first place, i suppose, we are all willing to pass part of the day on the river?" "yes, of course," answered the boys. "the next thing," continued frank, "is to ascertain how many sail-boats we can raise." "i'll bring mine." "and mine," called out several voices. "oh, that's no way to do business," exclaimed william johnson, who always liked to see things go off in order. "let all those who have boats hold up their hands." sixteen hands came up, and frank said, "we shall be gone all day, and, of course, we want plenty of provisions." "of course." "well, then, what i thought of proposing is this: let us take three or four of the swiftest sailing-boats, and give the provisions into their charge, and call them smugglers, and let the other boats play the part of revenue-cutters, or a blockading squadron, and let the smugglers try to land the provisions on strawberry island, without being caught." "that's capital!" shouted several. "it's better than shooting game, at this time of year," said one. "yes, and being scolded all day by that tyrant," observed another, who had belonged to the regulators. "it will take some time to make all our arrangements," said william, "and i move that we adjourn to our house, where we can hold our meeting in order." this was readily assented to, and william led the way, followed by all the boys, who were highly delighted at frank's plan of spending the fourth. george butler was speedily chosen president of the meeting, and, in less than half an hour, their arrangements were completed. the speedwell, champion, and alert--the latter a fine little schooner, owned by george and harry--were to act the part of smugglers, and ben. lake and thomas benton, who had no boats, were chosen by the smugglers to assist them. the provisions, of which each boy was expected to furnish his share, were all to be left at mr. butler's boat-house by six o'clock on the following evening, where they were to be taken charge of by the smugglers, of whom frank was chosen leader. it was also understood that the smugglers were to carry the provisions all in one boat, and were to be allowed to take every possible advantage of the "men-o'-war," and to make every effort to land the provisions on the island. the other thirteen boats, which were to act as "coast-guards," were to be under the command of charles sheldon, a shrewd, cunning fellow, who had the reputation of being able to handle a sail-boat as well as any boy in the village. the coast-guards were also divided into divisions of three boats each, and a captain was appointed for each division. these arrangements, as we have said, were speedily completed; and, although the coast-guards were almost wild with delight at the prospect of the exciting times that would occur during the race, they were confident that the smugglers could be easily caught, and even some of the smugglers themselves seemed to think that their chances of landing the provisions were small indeed. as the meeting was about to break up, one of the coast-guards exclaimed, "we'll have easy times catching you smugglers." "do you think so?" asked harry butler. "it would be funny if you should slip up on it, wouldn't it?" "we'll risk that," said another, "for we've got thirteen boats to your three." "i say, frank," said charles sheldon, "don't you think we can catch you?" "oh, yes," answered frank, "easily enough, if you only try. now, boys," he continued, "remember that we want all the refreshments left at mr. butler's boat-house, by six o'clock to-morrow evening." they all promised to be on hand, and the meeting broke up. but the coast-guards gathered in little knots in front of the house, or walked slowly toward home, talking the matter over, and congratulating themselves on the easy manner in which the capture of the "contrabands" was to be effected. the smugglers remained together, and, as soon as the others were out of hearing, george inquired, "do you think we can give them the slip?" "yes," answered frank, "i am certain we can. we must not think of beating them in sailing, because there are too many of them, but we must outwit them." "what do you propose to do?" inquired ben. "we must get up in the morning before they do." "we shall be obliged to get up at twelve o'clock, then," said thomas. "i had rather stay up all night than have them beat us," said harry. "well, boys," said george, "you must all come and sleep at our house to-morrow night. some of us will be sure to wake up early, and, i think, we shall have no trouble in getting the start of the coast-guards." the boys spent some time in talking over their plans, and, finally, reluctantly separated, and started for home. chapter ix. the coast-guards outwitted. about three o'clock in the afternoon of the following day, frank bade his mother and sister good-by, and he and brave got into the speedwell, and sailed slowly down the creek. he found the champion already moored at mr. butler's dock, and the smugglers were all waiting for him. as soon as he landed, ben. lake said, "frank, it is a gone case with us. i _know_ we shall be caught." "you think so, do you?" asked frank, as if not at all concerned. "yes, i'm certain of it. i overheard some conversation among the coast-guards, this afternoon, and one of them said that charley sheldon would have the whole fleet anchored before the mouth of the creek at half-past two to-morrow morning." "besides," said william johnson, "they are all going to sleep in their boats to-night, and the north star and sampson are to act as police." "and i heard charley sheldon say," chimed in harry, "that strict watch must be kept of the speedwell, and no attention paid to the other boats." "that's all right," said frank. "i'm glad of it." "why are you?" asked george, in surprise. "you know, we agreed to carry the provisions all in one boat, and yours is the only one that will hold them all." "i tell you, frank, we're gone suckers," said ben. "you fellows seem to be pretty well posted as to the coast-guards' intentions," said frank. "yes," said george; "we've been spying about and playing eavesdroppers all day." "i have learned one thing to-day," said frank, "that pleased me very much, and that is that the coast-guards intend to keep spies about the boat-house all night." "why does that please you?" inquired harry. "do you want them to discover all our plans, so that they may be ready for us?" "by no means. i'll risk good deal that they will not learn more than we want them to know. i've thought of a way to set them on the wrong scent, and, from what i have heard, i think it will work first-rate." "what is it?" "i'll show you in half a minute," said frank, "all we have got to do is to fool the spies; then we are all right." at this moment several boys, belonging to the blockading squadron, entered the boat-house, bringing their refreshments, and this, of course, put a stop to all further conversation between the smugglers. by six o'clock the last basket of provisions had been brought in, and the coast-guards took their departure, after repeatedly assuring the smugglers that their capture was certain. the provisions had been brought in twenty medium-sized market-baskets, and one large clothes-basket that belonged to george and harry, and seven pails. there was, also, a small bag filled with lemons, which had been brought by charles sheldon. the boys stood for some time looking at them without speaking. at length, thomas benton said, "you will have to carry them, frank. they will make too large a load for either of the other boats." "i know that," said frank; "but we must make the coast-guards think that the alert is going to carry them." "how can we manage that?" inquired george. "have you got three or four market-baskets, a clothes-basket, one or two pails, and a salt-bag?" asked frank, without stopping to answer george's question. "i guess so," said harry. "i'll go up to the house and see." he led the way, followed by three or four of the smugglers, and the articles in question were soon brought into the boat-house. "now, bill," said frank, "you take this salt-bag, if you please, and fill it with smooth, round stones, about the size of lemons." "all right," answered william, who began to see through the trick. "now," continued frank, "we want some pieces of cloth, large enough to tie over the tops of these baskets and pails." these were speedily procured, and, in a few moments, william returned with the salt-bag filled with stones. "now, tell us what you intend to do," exclaimed harry, whose patience was well-nigh exhausted. "we are making some sham provisions," said frank. "oh, yes, i thought so," said thomas; "but we haven't got pails and baskets enough." "oh, that's nothing," said frank. "we'll fill half a dozen of these old bags with shavings, and, as soon as it grows dark, we'll pull the alert alongside the wharf, and tumble these sham provisions into her; then we will cover them up with that piece of sail, as if we wanted to keep them dry. we'll be sure to fool the men-o'-war." "i don't exactly see it," said thomas. "why," said harry, "as soon as we are out of sight, their spies, who are, of course, watching every movement, will go and tell charley sheldon that we have got the things stowed away in the alert." "that's very well, as far as you go," said ben; "but suppose they should mistrust that something is in the wind, and should go to work and examine the provisions?" "what if they do?" said frank. "it will be too dark for them to make much of an examination; and, if they put their hands into the boat, they will feel the baskets and pails there, and will go away satisfied." the boys now saw through the trick, and there was no longer any feeling of doubt in their minds. they were now as certain of success as they had before been of being captured. in a few moments the "sham provisions," as frank had called them, were all completed, and, placing them where they could be easily taken out, they locked the door, to prevent surprise, and started for the house. as they were about to enter the gate, george suddenly exclaimed, "see there!" the boys looked in the direction george indicated, and saw the blockading squadron, with the exception of two boats, anchored in the creek, just opposite the long dock. the north star, a fine, swift-sailing little schooner, was anchored near the middle of the stream, and a boy sat in the stern sheets, reading a book. the sampson, a very large sloop-rigged boat, was standing up the creek, under full sail. these were the "police boats," and they were taking their stations. "i wonder where the sampson is going," said harry. "she's going to take her station in duck's creek," said ben. upon hearing this, harry's expectations fell again. "it's no use," he exclaimed. "charley sheldon knows too much for us." "not a bit," said frank. "this arrangement is only for to-night. when we get up in the morning, we shall find the boats all out in the river." this immediately reassured harry; and, after watching the sampson until she disappeared in duck's creek, he led the way to the house. after supper, as soon as it began to grow dark, they proceeded to put their plans into execution; but, before they started, frank said, "now, boys, we must watch and see how the trick takes, for i know that there are spies now around that boat-house. as soon as we get the sham provisions into the boat, one or two of us had better slip down into the willows behind the wharf, and see what course things are going to take." "well," said harry, "suppose you and bill act as spies." "agreed. come on, but don't act as if you suspected anything." and he led the way toward the boat-house. two of the boys busied themselves in bringing out the sham provisions, and the others brought the alert alongside, and fastened her to the dock, in front of the boat-house. frank and harry then got down into the boat, and the other boys passed the provisions down to them, and they placed them in such a manner as to take up as much space as possible. they were soon all stowed away, and covered over with a large sail, as if to keep off the dew. ben and george then got into a small skiff that lay at the dock, and towed the alert out into the middle of the creek, and anchored her. as soon as this was done they returned, and the smugglers began to amuse themselves by pushing each other about the wharf. they all appeared to enter heartily into the sport, and kept nearing the willows which extended along the bank of the creek, close to the wharf, and frank and william, watching their opportunity, concealed themselves, and the others ran toward the house. they had hardly disappeared, when the smugglers saw several boys steal cautiously around the corner of the boat-house, where they had been concealed, and one of them crept up the bank, to assure himself that the coast was clear, while the others remained in the shadow of the house. the former, who proved to be charles sheldon, the commander of the coast-guards, as soon as he had satisfied himself that the smugglers had gone into the house, called out, in a low whisper, to the others, who were the captains of the divisions of the squadron, "all right, boys; go ahead, but be careful not to make any noise. i didn't see frank nelson's dog go into the yard," he continued; "he must be around here somewhere. we must not let him hear us." brave _was_, as charles had said, "around there somewhere." he was lying by his master's side, among the willows, no doubt wondering at the strange things that were going on, and, well-trained as he was, it was with great difficulty that frank could keep him quiet. the coast-guards crossed the wharf with noiseless steps, and, unfastening the skiff which the smugglers had just used, they climbed down into it, and pushed off toward the alert. a few strokes brought them alongside of her, and, thrusting their arms under the sail, they began the examination which the smugglers had so much dreaded. "what do you find?" inquired charles, who still kept watch at the top of the bank. "here are a lot of baskets and pails," said one "and here's the large basket that george and harry brought," said another. "what are these round things in this bag, i wonder?" said the one who had first spoken. "oh, those are the lemons i brought," said charles. "gracious! how hard they are!" continued the boy, trying to dig his fingers into them. at this, frank and william, who, of course, had heard every word of the conversation, and had sat fairly trembling with excitement, fearful that their trick would be discovered, could scarcely refrain from laughing outright. had it been daylight, the ruse of the smugglers would certainly have been detected, but, as it was, the coast-guards never mistrusted that any thing was wrong. the night was rather dark, and the sham provisions were so neatly tied up, and so carefully stowed away, that the deception was complete. "i guess they are all here," said one of the boys, at length. "well, come ashore, then," said charles, "and let's be off." the boys pulled back to the wharf, and charles continued, "i didn't think that the alert would hold all of the refreshments, did you?" "no," answered one of the boys, whom the smugglers recognized as james porter; "i guess it was a tight squeeze; i could hardly get my hand in between the baskets." "what do you suppose the smugglers intend to do?" inquired another. "i don't know," answered charles, "unless they propose to get up in the morning before we do, and slip over to the island before we know it. i wonder how they felt when they saw us taking our positions." "but what do you suppose made them put the provisions in the alert?" "oh, i think i can see through that easily enough," said james. "frank knows that we expected that he was going to carry them over to the island, and he calculates to get us to chase him and give the alert a chance to land the provisions. he is a cunning fellow, but this time we are too sharp for him." "i wonder why frank don't send some one out to act as a spy," said charles. "i guess he's afraid that he would be taken prisoner." we may as well state here (and we should have done so before) that it had been agreed that if one side could catch any of the other acting as spies, they were at liberty to hold them as prisoners until the race was over, and that the prisoner should, if required, give his captors all the information possible relative to the movements and plans of his party, and they could also require him to lend assistance in carrying out their own. the prisoner, of course, was allowed the privilege of escaping, if he could. this _was_ the reason why the smugglers had not sent out any spies; and, if the coast-guards had been aware that frank and william were hidden away in the willows, they could easily have captured them, and, according to the agreement, obliged them to divulge all their plans. "well," said charles, "we don't want any prisoners now, for we know all their plans; but i wanted to catch frank this morning, for i was afraid he would beat us. if he should find out that this trick was discovered, he would plan another in five minutes. i guess we had better remain where we are to-night," he continued, "and, at half-past two o'clock, we will pull out into the river, and blockade the creek. all we have to do is to take care of the alert, and let the other boats do as they please. but we had better be off, or the smugglers may slip out and make some of us prisoners." and the spies departed as cautiously and quickly as they had come. as soon as they had gone, the smugglers arose from their places of concealment, and stole into the house, and acquainted the other boys with the success of their stratagem. after enjoying a hearty laugh at the expense of the coast-guards, led by george and harry, they ran up stairs into the "large chamber," a room containing three beds, and they were soon snug between the sheets. but sleep was, for a long time, out of the question; they laughed and talked until their jaws ached, and the hands of the old clock that stood in the room pointed to twelve; then they allowed their tired tongues to rest, and lay for a long time, each occupied with his own thoughts, and, finally, one after the other fell asleep. the hours passed on, and nothing was heard but their gentle breathing. suddenly harry, who always talked in his sleep when any thing exciting was going on, turned over in bed with a jerk, and began to mutter some unintelligible words. all at once, raising himself to a sitting posture, he sang out, at the top of his voice, "starboard your helm there, george--starboard your helm; bring her around quick. the alert can show as clean a pair of heels as any boat about the village." in an instant the other boys were awake, and harry continued to shout his directions, until several hearty thumps on the back caused him to change his tune. "let me alone!" he shouted. "we haven't cheated you. we promised to carry the provisions all over in one boat, and we've done it." harry was quickly dragged out of bed and placed upon his feet, and he was wide awake in an instant, but he stood in the middle of the room, as if bewildered, while the others rolled on the beds, convulsed with laughter. at length, william johnson, who was the first that could speak, inquired, "i wonder what time it is." "wait until i light this candle, and we'll see," said george. "no, no, don't do that," said frank. "the coast-guards may be on the watch, and, if they see a light in the house, will be getting ready for us." and, going to the clock, he opened it, and, feeling of the hands, said, "it's about ten minutes to three." "what shall we do?" inquired ben. "let us go and see what our friends of the squadron are doing," said thomas; "and, if they are not on hand, we can slip over and land our goods." by this time every one was dressed, and they crept carefully down stairs and out of the house. "hold on a minute, boys," said frank. "i will bet there are spies around that boat-house now." "let's take them prisoners," exclaimed harry. "that's just what i was about to propose," said frank; "but, in order to do it, we had better divide into two parties, so as to surround the house." "well," said george, "three of us will go up the road, and cross over by the bridge, and the rest of you can go down the road, and get into the willows behind the mill." "that's a good idea," said frank. "we will meet at the back of the boat-house." the boys accordingly separated, and started in different directions. frank and his party, which consisted of harry and ben, threaded their way through the garden, and across a meadow, until they arrived opposite mr. butler's mill. here they crossed the road, and, after a careful reconnoissance, entered the willows, and crawled, almost on their hands and knees, toward the boat-house. at length they arrived at the place where they were to meet their companions, but nothing was to be seen or heard of them. "i hope they have not been taken prisoners," whispered frank. "i don't think they have," said ben, "because we should have heard something of it. they are not the ones to give up without a struggle. but i don't see any thing of the spies." "neither do i," said harry. "they must be around the other side of the boat-house." "if they are there," said frank, "we will soon make them show themselves." and, as he spoke, he seized a branch above his head, and shook it violently. "oh, that's no way," whispered harry, excitedly; "you will frighten the--" "--sh! there they are!" said frank. and, as he spoke, the smugglers saw a boy come cautiously around the corner of the boat-house. he gazed impatiently toward the willows, and uttered a low whistle. frank instantly answered it, and the boy came down the bank, and said, in a low voice, "come out here, jim. i thought you would never relieve us. no signs of the smugglers yet--" "you must be mistaken," said frank, springing lightly from his concealment; and, before the coast-guard could recover from his surprise, he found himself a prisoner. "don't make any noise," said frank. "where's your companion? there must be two of you." "yes, there is another one," answered the prisoner. "ned wilbur is around the other side of the boat-house." "well, ben," said frank, "if you will watch this fellow, harry and i will see what we can do for ned." so saying, he went carefully around one side of the boat-house, and harry disappeared around the other. frank reached the end of the house first, and discovered the coast-guard standing in the door-way, as motionless as a statue. he was waiting for harry to make his appearance at the opposite end, when the sentinel suddenly uttered an ejaculation of surprise, and bounded up the bank; but, just as he reached the top, a dark form, which seemed to rise out of the ground, clasped the fleeting coast-guard in its arms, and a voice, which frank recognized as william johnson's, said, in a low whisper, "you're my prisoner!" "it's just my luck," said the crest-fallen sentinel, bitterly, as william led him down the bank. "i told charley sheldon that we would be sure to be gobbled up if we were stationed here. now, i suppose, you want me to tell all our plans." "no, we don't," answered harry; "we know all your plans already." by this time the smugglers had all come in, and, holding fast to their captives, they held a consultation, in which it was decided that it would be best to reconnoiter before attempting to leave the creek. it was very dark, and not a sound broke the stillness of the night; but the smugglers were too cunning to believe that the coast was clear, for they knew that the enemy would resort to every possible means to effect their capture. three of the smugglers were directed to get into mr. butler's yawl, taking one of the prisoners with them, and drop down to the mouth of glen's creek, and note the position of the enemy there; and frank and the other boys stepped into the skiff, and started up toward ducks' creek, to ascertain the condition of affairs, taking ned with them. they pulled rapidly, but noiselessly, along, and had almost reached the creek, when a strong, cheery voice, directly before them, called out, "boat ahoy!" "there," whispered harry, "we're discovered." "no, i guess not," said frank. "ned," he continued, turning to the prisoner, "you must talk for us. answer them." "ay, ay, sir," shouted ned, in reply to the hail. "what boat is that?" "dispatch boat," answered ned, prompted by frank; "and we bring orders for you to pull down and join the fleet, which is now blockading the mouth of glen's creek." "all right," answered the voice. "we've been waiting an hour for that order. this playing police is dull business." and the smugglers heard the rattling of a chain, as if the anchor was being pulled up. "tell them to make haste," whispered frank. "come, hurry up there, now," shouted ned. "ay, ay," was the answer. and, in a few moments, the sampson, propelled by four oars, shot past them, on her way down the creek. "that's what i call pretty well done," said ben, as soon as the coast-guards were out of hearing. "i don't," said ned. "it goes against me to fool a fellow in that way; and my own friends, too." the smugglers now continued on their way, and a few strong pulls brought them within a short distance of the mouth of ducks' creek; and frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat's head toward the shore, and, as soon as her keel touched the bottom, he and ben sprang out, leaving harry to watch the prisoner. they had landed upon reynard's island, and immediately started for the opposite side, to learn, if possible, what was going on upon the river. every thing was as silent as midnight; and the smugglers were obliged to move very carefully, for the slightest sound--the snapping of a twig or the rustling of a leaf--could be heard at a long distance. after proceeding a quarter of a mile in this cautious manner, they reached the opposite side of the island. "well," said ben, after trying in vain to peer through the darkness, "how do matters stand? i wonder if we could not have slipped by their police, and reached the island, before they knew it?" "no, sir," said frank, "not by a good deal. we should certainly have been captured." "how do you know? i can't see any thing." "neither can i; but listen, and you will _hear_ something. they are taking their positions." the boys remained silent, and the suppressed murmur of voices, the strokes of muffled oars, and, now and then, a gentle splashing in the water, as of an anchor dropped carefully overboard, could be distinctly heard. "i am still of the opinion," said ben, "that we could run the blockade before they could catch us." "and i still think that we should get caught," said frank. "if we should attempt to hoist a sail, it could be heard across the river; besides, there is no breeze." "then, try the oars." "they would overtake us before we had gone twenty rods. you must remember that they outnumber us, six to one, and could easily tire us out, or cut us off from the island. wait until the breeze springs up, and then we will see what we can do." "listen," whispered ben, suddenly; "some of the boats are coming down this way. they are sending a division of the fleet to guard ducks' creek." and so it proved. the slow, measured strokes of oars came nearer and nearer, and, finally, the tall, raking masts of three of the swiftest-sailing boats in the squadron could be dimly seen moving down the river toward the creek. as they approached, the smugglers discovered that two boys, in a light skiff, led the way, and one of them, who proved to be charles sheldon, pointed out the position he wished each boat to occupy. the places assigned them were not directly opposite the mouth of the creek, but a little up the river, and about twenty feet from the shore; and this, afterward, proved to be a very favorable circumstance for the smugglers. "now, boys," said charles, after he had placed the little vessels to his satisfaction, "keep a good look-out up the river." "i should think," said the captain of the division "that you ought to have us anchor directly in the mouth of the creek. we shall have a good stiff breeze before long, and the alert might slip out at any time, and, before we could hoist a sail, she would be half-way across the river." "i don't think she will trouble you down here," said charles. "frank nelson wouldn't be foolish enough to send her out here, for it's a good quarter of a mile below the foot of the island; and, even if she does come out here, and succeeds in getting by you, all we will have to do will be to send a division down to the foot of the island to meet her there, and then her capture is certain. now, remember, keep an eye open to everything that goes on up the river. never mind the speedwell and champion--let them go where they please; but, if you see the alert, why, you know what to do." and charles and his attendant pulled back up the river. "now, ben," said frank, "we've heard enough to know that we have fooled them nicely; so let's go back." this, however, was no easy undertaking. the way to their boat lay through bushes that could scarcely be penetrated, even in the day-time. the coast-guards were anchored close by the shore, and the slightest noise would arouse their suspicions. frank led the way on his hands and knees, carefully choosing his ground, and they, at length, succeeded in reaching their boat, without disturbing the coast-guards. a few moments' pulling brought them alongside mr. butler's wharf, where they found the others waiting for them. "what news?" inquired george, as they clambered up out of the boat. frank explained, in a few words, the position of the squadron at the mouth of ducks' creek, as well as the conversation they had overheard, and also inquired of george the result of his observations. "it was too dark to see much," he answered; "but we could plainly hear them taking their positions opposite the mouth of the creek. it will be hard work to get through them, i tell you." "how are you going to work it, frank?" inquired ben. "i'll tell you what i thought of doing," he answered "by the way charley sheldon spoke, i should judge that he expects to see the alert start from glen's creek; so, i think, it would be a good plan, as soon as the breeze springs up, to have the champion and alert drop down ducks' creek, and let the former run out and start for the island. the coast-guards will not give chase, of course, but will think it is only a ruse of ours to make them believe that the alert is going to start from the same place, and that will make them watch glen's creek closer than ever, and the alert will have a chance to get a good start before they can hoist their sails, and, while they are after her, ben and i will run out and land our goods." "that's the way to do it," said william, approvingly. "we will fool them so completely that they will not want to hear of smugglers again for six months." "let's go and get some breakfast," said george. "never go to work on an empty stomach, you know." "yes, come on," said harry, taking each of the captive coast-guards by the arm; "we never feed our prisoners on half rations." after "stowing away" a large supply of bread and milk, the smugglers, in company with their prisoners, again repaired to the boat-house. by this time it was five o'clock, and the breeze which the coast-guards had predicted began to spring up, and promised to freshen into a capital "sailing wind." in a few moments the _real_ provisions were all packed away, as closely as possible, in the speedwell, and the load was as large as she could well carry, there being scarcely room enough left for the action of the sails. "i guess we are all ready now," said frank; "so, bill, you might as well drop down ducks' creek and sail out." "all right," answered william. and he and thomas clambered down into the boat, with the prisoners, the sails were hoisted, and the champion was soon hidden from sight by the tall reeds and bushes that lined the banks of the creek. "now, harry," continued frank, "ben and i will take our boat and hide behind the point, and, in about five minutes, you may follow the champion." "now, make use of your best seamanship," said ben. "you can lead them a long chase, if you try." "i assure you that we will do our best," said george. the speedwell's sails were hoisted, and frank took his seat at the helm, while ben placed himself so as to assist in managing the sails. brave took his usual station in the bow, and they moved slowly down the creek. the point of which frank had spoken was a long, low neck of land, covered with trees, which completely concealed the mouth of glen's creek. in a few moments they reached this point, and the speedwell's bow ran high upon the sand, and the boys sprang out, and hurried over to the other side of the point, to watch the proceedings on the river, while brave, at his master's command, remained in the boat. concealing themselves behind a large log, they waited impatiently for the appearance of the champion. the vessels of the squadron, with the exception of the division stationed at the foot of reynard's island, were anchored in a semicircle directly before the mouth of glen's creek, from which it was expected that the alert would start. each sloop was manned by two boys, and the schooners had a crew of four. every one stood at his post, and was ready to move at the word. "they meant to be ready for us, didn't they?" asked frank. "i wonder if they thought we would be foolish enough to send the alert out of this creek, in the face of all those boats?" "i don't know," answered ben. "i suppose they thought--see there! there goes the champion." frank looked down the river, and saw that the stanch little sloop had already run the blockade, and was standing boldly toward the island. her appearance was sudden and wholly unexpected and several of the coast-guards sprang to their feet, and a dozen sails were half-way up the mast in a twinkling; but, as soon as they discovered that it was not the alert, they quickly returned to their posts, and, in a moment, all the bustle and confusion was over. the eye of every boy in the squadron was now directed toward glen's creek, expecting, every moment, to see the schooner round the point. the champion had accomplished, perhaps, half the distance across the river, when the alert suddenly shot from ducks' creek, and, hauling around before the wind, ran in between two of the blockading fleet, so close as to almost graze them, and stood toward the foot of the island. as soon as the coast-guards could recover from their surprise, charles shouted, "up anchor--quick!" the next moment he called out, "jim, take your division, and creep down the shore of the island, and be ready to catch her there, if she gets away from us." for a few moments there was a "great hurrying" among the coast-guards. the anchors were drawn up with a jerk, the sails flew up the masts, and the little fleet bore rapidly down upon the smuggler. as soon as frank saw that the race had fairly begun, he exclaimed, "now's our time, ben!" they ran back to their boat, and hastily shoved from the shore, and the speedwell, making good her name, was soon plowing the river, in the direction of the island. so intent were the coast-guards upon catching the alert, that they thought of nothing else; and frank rounded the head of the island, and landed, without being discovered. meanwhile, george and harry were leading their pursuers a long chase. under their skillful management--standing first on one tack and then on the other--they had succeeded in outmaneuvering several of the swiftest-sailing vessels in the squadron. two or three small sloops had succeeded in getting between the alert and the island; but harry, who was at the helm, did not deem them worthy a moment's notice. he was confident that his schooner, by her superior sailing qualities, would soon leave these behind also. the smugglers began to grow jubilant over their success, and george called out, "where are your men-o'-war now? throw us a line, and we'll tow you." "come on, you coast-guards," chimed in harry. "you will never catch us, at this rate." if the smugglers _had_ succeeded in eluding their pursuers, it would, indeed, have been an achievement worth boasting of; but they had to deal with those who were as cunning and skillful as themselves. charles was not to be beaten so easily; and, although he said nothing, the smugglers saw him smile and shake his head, as if he were certain that he could yet win the day. "can you discover any fast boats ahead of us, george?" inquired harry. george rose to his feet to take a survey of the squadron, and answered, "no, there are only two or three little things standing across our bows, but we'll soon--we're caught, sure as shooting!" he suddenly exclaimed, changing his tone. "bring her around before the wind--quick! there's the north star, sunshine, and sampson. we might as well haul down the sails." james porter's division, which had been "laying to" at the foot of glen's island, now bore down upon the alert, and george had just discovered them; and they were coming on in such a manner that escape was impossible. "yes," answered harry, as soon as he had noted the positions of the approaching vessels, "we are caught. we began to brag too soon." "well, we don't lose any thing," said george. "frank has landed the provisions long before this." "i know it; but still i wish we could have beaten them." "what do you think now, harry?" asked charles, whose boat was following close in the wake of the alert. "i think we are done for." and, as harry "luffed in the wind," george drew down the sails, and gave up the struggle. in a moment the little fleet closed about the smuggler, and, to prevent accident, the sails were all hauled down, and the boats lay motionless on the water. "i tell you," said charles, "you fellows worked it pretty well." "yes," answered george, as if a little crest-fallen at their defeat. "we did the best we could." "i thought we had more provisions than this," said one of the captains of the squadron, pulling his boat alongside of the alert. "i didn't think you could get them all in here." and he pulled up the covering, and looked under it. "they are packed in tight, you see," said harry, who wished to keep up the "sell," as he called it, as long as possible. "what are in these bags?" inquired one. "shavings," answered george. "we thought we might want to kindle a fire for something." "i say, george," said james porter, standing up in his boat to get a good view of the things in the alert. "i wish you would feel in my basket, and get a cup that is in there, and pass it over this way. i'm thirsty. i was so excited," he continued, taking off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "that i sweat as if i had been dumped in the river. there isn't a dry rag on me." "which is your basket?" inquired harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh. "it's a brown basket, with a white cover," answered james. george and harry were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak; but charles exclaimed, as he drew aside the covering, "there's no brown basket here." "there ought to be," said one of the coast-guards; "i brought my things in a brown basket." "so did i," exclaimed another. "there's a cheat somewhere," said james. "you haven't done as you agreed," said charles. "you promised to carry all the things in one boat." "yes, that's what you agreed to do," shouted several. "and we've kept our promise," said harry. "then, where's _my_ basket?" inquired one of the boys, who had failed to discover it among the things in the alert. "i'll bet the champion carried some of the provisions over," said another, "for there are not half of them here." "no, the champion didn't have a thing in her," said a third. "she passed so close to my boat, that i could have jumped into her, and i took particular pains to see that she was empty." "well, here are the things that i brought, at any rate," said charles, who had just caught sight of the bag which contained, as he supposed, his lemons. "my goodness!" he continued, as he lifted them out of the boat, "how heavy they are!" and he began to untie the bag, and soon disclosed to the view of the coast-guards, not the lemons, but almost half a peck of smooth, round stones. george and harry, who could contain themselves no longer, rolled on the bottom of the boat, convulsed with laughter; and several ready hands tore off the coverings of the baskets and pails, and they were found to be empty. a more astonished set of boys one never saw; and, as soon as they could speak, they burst out with a volley of ejaculations that will hardly bear repetition. "we've been chasing the wrong boat," said one. "yes," answered another, "and i knew it would be so. that frank nelson is too much of a yankee for us." "the speedwell--the speedwell!" shouted another; "keep a good look-out for her." "oh, you're too late," said harry, with a laugh, "the provisions were landed long ago." "i don't believe it. i didn't see any thing of her." "of course you didn't," said charles; "you were too intent on catching the alert. boys," he continued, "we're fairly beaten. let's start for the island." the coast-guards silently obeyed, and the smugglers refrained from making any remarks, for they saw that the squadron's crew took their defeat sorely to heart. in a few moments the little fleet rounded the foot of the island, and the boys discovered the champion and speedwell, lying with their bows high upon the sand, and their crews were busy carrying the provisions under the shade of a large oak, that stood near the water's edge. as soon as the last vessel came in sight, the smugglers on shore greeted them with three hearty cheers, which george and harry answered with a will, but the coast-guards remained silent. in a few moments they had all landed, and the smugglers joined their companions; and charles took off his hat, and said to the coast-guards, "boys, i want to have just one word with you. we have been beaten," he continued, as they gathered silently about him, "completely outwitted; but it was fairly done. we took all the advantage of the smugglers that we could, but they have beaten us at our own game. i feel as cheap as any of you do, but it can't be helped now; and there's no use of having unpleasant feelings about it, for that would spoil a good day's sport. if we didn't catch them, we did our best, and we had a good, exciting race--one that i wouldn't have missed for a good deal. now, boys, show that you appreciate the good trick that has been played on us, by giving the smugglers three hearty cheers." this little speech--showing charles to be a boy of good feeling--had the effect of convincing the coast-guards that to manifest any ill-will at their defeat would be both unkind and selfish, and the cheer that rose from forty strong lungs was almost deafening. the smugglers, who had heard what charles had said, cheered lustily, in turn, for the coast-guards, and instantly every unkind feeling vanished. the coast-guards readily entered into conversation with the smugglers, and the latter explained the trick of which they had made use, as well as the manner in which the capture of the prisoners was affected, and the adventure with the police-boat; and, although the coast-guards were provoked at themselves for "not having more sense," as they termed it, they could not refrain from joining in a hearty laugh. by this time the refreshments had all been carried under the tree of which we have spoken, where there was a smooth grass-plat, which made a nice place to set the table. the boys had spent some time relating various incidents that had occurred during the chase, when ben suddenly inquired, "well, boys, what's to be the order of the day? you know that we came over here to enjoy ourselves, and we had better be about it." "i think," said charles, "that it would be a good plan to appoint a committee to arrange those eatables. we came away without our breakfast, and i, for one, feel hungry." "there's where we had the advantage of you," said thomas. "while you were hurrying around, and taking your positions, we were eating our breakfast. you see, we took matters easy." "and beat us, after all," said one of the coast-guards; "it's too bad. but let's have that committee appointed." a dozen boys were speedily chosen to set the table, and the others, catching up all the empty pails and baskets they could find, scattered over the island in search of strawberries. in about an hour they met again under the tree, and found the refreshments all ready for them, and they fell to work in earnest. so full were they of their sport, that it took them two hours to eat their dinner, as they had said they had come to enjoy themselves, and felt in duty bound to eat all their baskets contained. after dinner, one of the smugglers proposed to go squirrel-hunting; but many of the coast-guards had passed the preceding night without any sleep, and, to use their own expression, they "didn't feel like it;" so this project was abandoned, and the boys lay on the grass, under the tree, telling stories, until almost three o'clock, and then began to get ready to start for home. chapter x. a queer cousin. as every one knows, it would be almost an impossibility for sixteen sail-boats to go any where in company without trying their speed, especially if they were sailed by boys. when our heroes stepped into their vessels, each skipper made up his mind that his boat must be the first one to touch the opposite shore. not a word was said about a race, but every one knew that one would be sure to come off. every thing was done in a hurry, and the little vessels were all afloat in a moment. they were on the leeward side of the island--that is, the side from the wind--and they would be obliged to get around to the opposite side before they could use their sails. the coast-guards shoved their boats out into the current, and allowed themselves to float down toward the foot of the island, thinking that course easier than pulling, against the current, up to the head of the island. frank noticed this movement, and said, in a low voice, to the smugglers, "don't follow them, boys. they will find themselves becalmed in less than a quarter of an hour. the breeze is dying away. if you want to beat them, hoist your sails, and get out your oars, and row up to the head of the island; we can reach it before they reach the foot, and, besides, the current will carry them further down the river than they want to go." the smugglers did as frank had directed; and as they moved from the shore, and turned up the river, one of the coast-guards called out, "where are you fellows going?" "home," answered ben. "you are taking the longest and hardest way." "the longest way around is the nearest way home, you know," answered william. "i don't believe it is, in this instance," said james porter. "let's see who will be at the long dock first." "all right," answered the smugglers. and they disappeared behind a high-wooded promontory of the island. it was hard work, pulling against a current that ran four miles an hour, but they were accustomed to it, and the thought of again beating the coast-guards gave strength to their arms. in a few moments a sudden filling of the sails announced that they had caught the breeze. the oars were drawn in, and every sheet hauled taut, and, when they rounded the head of the island, not one of the squadron was in sight. "i expected," said harry, speaking in a loud voice, so that the others could hear, "that they would feel the wind long before this." "even if they had," answered frank, "we could have beaten them easily enough. you see, when they come around the foot of the island, they will be some distance below the long dock, and the current will carry them still further down, while we are above it, and can sail right down to it. here they come!" the boys looked down the river, and saw the men-o'-war rapidly following each other around the foot of the island. "i guess they have discovered their mistake before this time," said william. "now," he continued, as he drew his mainsail down a little closer "the champion is going to be the first to sail into the creek." "that's the game, is it?" said frank. "ben, perch yourself up on the windward side, and we'll see which is the best boat." ben did as he was desired, and the little vessels increased their speed, and bounded over the gentle swells as if some of their crews' spirit had been infused into them. they had started nearly even--the alert and champion being a little in advance of the speedwell--and the boys knew that the race was to be a fair trial of the speed of their boats. the alert and speedwell had never been "matched" before, and the boys were anxious to learn their comparative speed. the former was the "champion" boat of the village, and harry and george were confident that frank's "tub," as they jokingly called it, would soon be distanced. frank thought so, too; but the reputation of owning the swiftest boat in the village was well worth trying for, and he determined to do his best. since his race with the champion, he had made larger sails for his boat, and added a flying-jib and a gaff-topsail, and he found that her speed was almost doubled. the champion soon fell behind, and the two rival boats were left to finish the race, which, for a long time, seemed undecided. but, at length, the speedwell, with her strong mast groaning and creaking under the weight of the heavy canvas, began to gain steadily, and soon passed the alert. ten minutes' run brought them across the river; and when frank, proud of the victory he had gained, rounded the long dock, the alert was full four rods behind. the breeze was rapidly dying away, and not one of the coast-guards had yet reached the shore. some of them had been carried almost a mile below the creek, and lay with the sails idly flapping against the masts. frank and ben sailed slowly along up the creek, and, when they arrived at the end of the dock, the speedwell was "made fast," and the boys started to get their mail. as they entered the post-office, frank stepped up to the "pigeon-hole," and the postmaster handed him two letters; one was addressed to his mother, and the other bore his own name, written in a full, round, school-boy's hand. "ben," he exclaimed, as he broke the seal, "i've got a letter from archie. i wrote to him a month ago; i should think it was about time to get an answer." "see if he says any thing about getting a letter from me," said ben. "i haven't heard from him in a long time." before proceeding further, it may not be improper to say a word about archie winters. he was, as we have already said, frank's cousin, and lived in the city of portland. he was just frank's age, and, like him, was kind and generous; but he was not the boy for books. when in school, he was an obedient and industrious pupil, and learned very readily; but, when four o'clock came, he was the first to lay aside his books. he was very fond of rural sports, and, for a city boy, was a very expert hunter; he even considered himself able to compete with frank. he was also passionately fond of pets, and, if he could have had his own way, he would have possessed every cat and dog in the city. his father was a wealthy ship-builder, and archie was an only child. but he was not, as is generally the case, spoiled by indulgence; on the contrary, his parents always required his prompt and cheerful obedience, and, when out of their sight, archie was very careful to do nothing of which he thought his parents would not approve. every vacation he paid a visit to his cousin, and sometimes staid until late in the winter, to engage in his favorite sport. he was well known to the village boys, among whom his easy and obliging manners had won many a steadfast friend. but let us now return to the letter, which ran as follows: portland, _june_ , --. dear cousin: your letter of the th of last month was duly received, and, i suppose, you think it is about time for me to answer it. they say that a person who is good at making excuses is good for nothing else; but, i suppose, you will expect some apology for my seeming neglect. you perhaps remember hearing your mother speak of james sherman, a cousin whom we had never seen. about two weeks since, father received a letter from his mother, stating that she and james would be at our house in about three days. well, they came agreeably to notice, and i have had the pleasure of entertaining our cousin ever since. i have had to pilot him around, and show him all the sights, and i have had time for nothing else. i will not tell you what sort of a fellow he is; i will leave you to judge of his general character, etc. he and his mother are now on their way to lawrence, and they expect to be at your house about the th (july). they intend to remain about two weeks. when i saw them getting into the train, and knew that in a few days they would be with you, i wanted very much to accompany them. but mother says _one_ noisy boy in the house is sufficient. (i wonder whether she means you or james!) but as soon as they have ended their visit, if nothing happens, you may expect to see our family landing from the julia burton, some fine morning. i have been pent up in the city now almost six months, and i am impatient to get into the country again--especially among the trout-streams about your quiet little village. i have often thought of the sport we had the day we went up to dungeon brook. i know it rained hard, but the string of trout we caught beat any thing of the kind i ever happened to see. but i've got some good news for you. father has decided to spend part of the winter at uncle joe's, and he promises to take you and me with him; so you can begin to pack up your duds as soon as you wish. that trout-pole you made for me last winter met with a serious accident a few days since. one of my schoolmates invited me to go up the river with him, and try a perch-bed he had accidentally discovered. i had sent off my heavy pole to the painters, so i was obliged to take my trout-pole. i was afraid that i should break it, but it behaved beautifully for about two hours, during which time i drew in sixty fine perch and rock-bass--some of the former weighing between one and two pounds--and i began to think that the pole was too tough to break. but i was very soon convinced of my mistake, for, as bad luck would have it, i hooked on to a black-bass. i thought i handled him very carefully, but, before we could land him, he broke my pole in three pieces; but the line held, and he was soon floundering in the boat. he was a fine fellow--a regular "sockdologer"--weighing six pounds and a half. but i heartily wished him safe in the bottom of the river. i have laid the pole away, and intend to bring it to you for repairs. but it is ten o'clock, and father suggests that, if i wish to get to the post-office before the mail closes, i had "better make tracks." so i must stop. love to all. yours affectionately, a. winters. p.s.--please tell ben and harry that i will answer their letters immediately. a.w. by this time the rest of the smugglers had arrived, and, as soon as frank had run his eye over the letter, and began to fold it up, george inquired, "well, what does he say? did he receive harry's letter?" "yes, and also one from ben. he says he will answer them at once." after a few moments' conversation, the boys separated, and started for home, expressing themselves highly delighted at frank's way of spending the fourth. the day on which mrs. sherman and her son were expected at length arrived. as a fine breeze was blowing, frank and his sister--accompanied, of course, by brave--stepped into the speedwell, and started to enjoy a sail on the river. it was now the summer vacation, and the boys were determined to have plenty of recreation after their long siege of study; and, when frank reached the mouth of the creek, he found the river dotted with white sails as far as he could see. several of the boats had started on fishing excursions, but the majority of them were sailing idly about, as if nothing particular had been determined on. frank turned the speedwell's head down the river, and soon joined the little fleet. he had hoisted every stitch of canvas his boat could carry, and she flew along, passing several of the swiftest vessels, and finally encountered the alert. the race was short, for the speedwell easily passed her, and george and harry were compelled to acknowledge that, to use their own expression, "the alert was nowhere." in about two hours the julia burton was seen rounding the point, and a loud, clear whistle warned the villagers of her approach. frank turned the speedwell toward home, and arrived at the wharf about ten minutes after the steamer had landed. as they sailed along up the creek, julia suddenly exclaimed, "i wonder who those people are!" frank turned, and saw a lady just getting into a carriage, and a boy, apparently about his own age, stood by, giving orders, in a loud voice, to the driver, about their baggage. both were dressed in the hight of fashion, and frank knew, from the description his aunt had given his mother, that they were the expected visitors. as soon as the boy had satisfied himself that their baggage was safe, he continued, in a voice loud enough to be heard by frank and his sister, "now, driver, you're sure you know where mrs. nelson lives?" "yes, sir," answered the man, respectfully. "well, then, old beeswax, hurry up. show us how fast your cobs can travel." so saying, he sprang into the carriage, and the driver closed the door after him, mounted to his seat, and drove off. "why," said julia, in surprise, "i guess that's aunt harriet--don't you?" "yes," answered her brother, "i know it is." "i am afraid i shall not like james," continued julia; "he talks too loud." frank did not answer, for he was of the same opinion. he had inferred from archie's letter that james would prove any thing but an agreeable companion. the brisk wind that was blowing carried them rapidly along, and, in a few moments, they came to a place where the road ran along close to the creek. the distance to mrs. nelson's, by the road, was greater, by a quarter of a mile, than by the creek, and, consequently, they had gained considerably on the carriage. soon they heard the rattling of wheels behind them, and the hack came suddenly around a turn in the road. james was leaning half-way out of the window, his cap pushed on one side of his head, and, not knowing frank, he accosted him, as he came up, with his favorite expression. "hallo, old beeswax! saw-logs must have been cheap when you had that boat built. you've got timber enough there to finish off a good-sized barn." frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was out of sight. they soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and frank helped julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house, and entered the room where their visitors were seated. his aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her every motion had been thoroughly studied. james's acknowledgment was scarcely more than agreeable. to frank's inquiry, "how do you do, sir?" he replied, "oh, i'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. not you the cod i twigged[a] navigating that scow up the creek?" [footnote a: saw.] frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and james continued, "i suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?" "yes," answered frank, "she is. there's no boat about the village that can beat her." "ah, possibly; but, after all, you had better tell that to the marines. i've seen too much of the world to have a country chap stuff me, now i tell you, old beeswax." we will not particularize upon james's visit. it will suffice to relate one or two incidents that will illustrate his character. a day or two after his arrival, he discovered the schooner standing on frank's bureau, and he could not be contented until he should see "how she carried herself in the water," and frank, reluctantly, carried it down to the creek and set it afloat. for a few moments james seemed to have forgotten his evil propensities, and they amused themselves by sailing the schooner from one side of the creek to the other. but he very soon grew tired of this "lame, unexciting sport," as he called it, and, gathering up an armful of stones, he began to throw them into the water near the boat, shouting, "storm on the atlantic! see her rock!" "please don't, james," urged frank; "i'm afraid you will hit the schooner." "no fear of that," answered james, confidently, still continuing to throw the stones; "i can come within a hair's-breadth of her, and not touch her. now, see." and, before frank could speak, away flew a large stone, with great force, and, crashing through the mainsail of the little vessel, broke both masts and the bowsprit short off. "there," exclaimed frank, "i was afraid you would do that." james did not appear to be in the least sorry for it, but he skipped up the bank, shouting, in an insulting tone, "there's your boat, old beeswax. when do you expect her in port?" frank did not answer, but drew what remained of the schooner to the shore, and, taking it under his arm, started for his shop, saying, "now, that's a nice cousin for a fellow to have. i'll do my best to treat him respectfully while he stays, but i shall not be sorry when the time comes to bid him good-by." and that time was not far distant. james often complained to his mother that frank was a "low-minded, mean fellow," and urged an immediate departure. his mother always yielded to his requests, or rather _demands_, no matter how unreasonable they might be; and they had scarcely made a visit of a week, when they announced their intention of leaving lawrence by the "next boat." on the day previous to their departure, mrs. nelson had occasion to send frank to the village for some groceries, and, as a favorable wind was blowing, he decided to go in his boat. but, before starting, he managed to slip away from james long enough to write a few lines to archie, urging him to come immediately. frank intended to start off without james's knowledge; but the uneasy fellow was always on the look-out, and, seeing his cousin going rapidly down the walk, with a basket on each arm, and his dog--which, like his master, had not much affection for james--he shouted, "hallo, old beeswax, where are you bound for?" "for the village," answered frank. "are you going to take the tow-path?" "the tow-path! i don't know what you mean." "are you going to ride shanks' horses?" "i don't understand that, either." "oh, you are a bass-wood man, indeed," said james, with a taunting laugh. "are you going to _walk_? do you think you can comprehend me now?" "yes," answered frank, "i can understand you when you talk english. no, i am not going to walk." "then i'll go with you, if you will leave that dog at home." "i don't see what objections you can have to his company. he always goes with me." "i suppose you think more of him than you do of your relations; but i'm going with you, at any rate." and he quickened his pace to overtake frank. while his cousin was hoisting the sails, james deliberately seated himself in the stern of the boat, and took hold of the tiller. "do you understand managing a sail-boat?" inquired frank, as he stood ready to cast off the painter. "if any one else had asked me that question," answered james, with an air of injured dignity, "i should have considered it an insult. of course i _do_." "all right, then," said frank, as he pushed the boat from the wharf. "go ahead. we shall be obliged to tack a good many times, going down but we can sail back like a book, and--" "oh, you teach your grandmother, will you?" interrupted james. "i've sailed more boats than you ever saw." frank, at first, did not doubt the truth of this assertion, for james lived in a seaport town, and had had ample opportunity to learn how to manage a yacht; but they had not made twenty feet from the wharf, when he made up his mind that his cousin had never before attempted to act as skipper. instead of keeping as close as possible to the wind, as he should have done, he turned the boat's head first one way and then another, and, of course, made no headway at all. "i never saw such a tub as this," said james, at length; "i can't make her mind her helm." just at this moment a strong gust of wind filled the sails, and, as james was not seaman enough to "luff" or "let go the sheet," the speedwell same very near capsizing. as she righted, the wind again filled the sails, and the boat was driven with great speed toward the shore. frank had barely time to pull up the center-board before her bows ran high upon the bank, and the sheet was roughly jerked from james's hand, and flapped loudly against the mast. "there," said frank, turning to his cousin, who sat, pale with terror, "i guess it's a long time since you attempted to sail a boat; you seem to have forgotten how, i tell you," he continued as he noticed james's trepidation, "if i hadn't pulled up that center-board just as i did, we should have been obliged to swim for it." "i can't swim," said james, in a weak voice. "then you would have been in a fix," said frank. "now, let me see if i can have any better luck." james very willingly seated himself on one of the middle thwarts, and frank pushed the boat from the shore, and took hold of the tiller, and, under his skillful management, the speedwell flew through the water like a duck. james soon got over his fright, and his uneasy nature would not allow him to remain long inactive, and, as he could find nothing else to do, he commenced to rock the boat from one side to the other, and, as she was "heeling" considerably, under the weight of her heavy canvas, the water began to pour in over her side. although the speed of the boat was greatly diminished, frank, for some time, made no complaint, hoping that his cousin would soon grow tired of the sport. but james did not seem inclined to cease, and frank, at length, began to remonstrate. he reminded james that it would not require much to capsize the boat, and, as the creek was very deep, and as he (james) had said he could not swim, he might be a "gone sucker." this, at first, had the effect of making james more careful, but he soon commenced again as bad as ever. brave was seated in his usual place, and directly behind james. he seemed to dislike the rocking of the boat as much as his master, but he bore it very patiently for awhile, thinking, no doubt, that the best way to deal with james was to "let him severely alone." but the rocking increased, and brave began to slide from one side of the boat to the other. this was enough to upset his patience; and, encouraged, perhaps, by some sly glances from frank, he sprang up, and, placing a paw on each shoulder of his tormentor, barked fiercely, close to his ear. james screamed loudly; and brave, evidently thinking he had punished him enough, returned to his seat. "let me ashore," shouted james; "i shan't stay in here any longer." frank gladly complied, and, the moment the speedwell's bows touched the bank, james sprang out. "i wouldn't risk my life in that tub again for any money," he shouted; "you may bet on that, old beeswax." frank made no reply, but pushed the boat from the shore again as soon as possible. james now felt safe; and, gathering up a handful of stones, determined to wreak his vengeance on brave. the sensible newfoundlander, at first, paid no attention to this cowardly assault; but the stones whizzed by in unpleasant proximity, now and then striking the sail or the side of the boat, and he began to manifest his displeasure, by showing his teeth and growling savagely. frank stood it as long as possible, knowing that the best plan was to remain silent; but james continued to follow the boat, and the stones struck all around the object of his vengeance. "i wish you wouldn't do that," said frank, at length. "you do, eh?" said james. "how are you going to hinder it? but perhaps you would rather have me throw at you." and, picking up a large stone, he hurled it at his cousin with great force. it fell into the creek, close to the boat, and splashed the water all over frank. this seemed to enrage brave more than ever, and he sprang into the water, and swam toward the shore, and no amount of scolding on frank's part could induce him to return. james, fearing that he was about to be punished in a way he had not thought of, turned and took to his heels. at this moment a loud shout was heard, and several boys sprang over the fence into the road, and james was speedily overtaken and surrounded. they were a ragged, hard-looking set of fellows, and frank knew that they were the hillers; besides, he recognized the foremost of them as lee powell. they had their fishing-rods on their shoulders, and each boy carried in his hand a long string of trout. "look'e here, you spindle-shanked dandy," said lee, striding up and laying hold of james's collar with no friendly hand, "does yer know who yer was a heavin' rocks at? shall we punch him for yer?" he added, turning to frank. "no," answered frank; "let him go; he's my cousin." lee accordingly released him, and james said, in a scarcely audible voice, "i was only in fun." "oh, only playin', was yer?" said lee; "that alters the case 'tirely--don't it, pete?" the boy appealed to nodded his assent, and lee continued, "we thought yer was in blood arnest. if yer _had_ been, we wouldn't a left a grease-spot of yer--would we, pete?" "mighty cl'ar of us," answered pete. as soon as james found himself at liberty, he started toward home at full speed, hardly daring to look behind him. brave had by this time gained the shore, and was about to start in pursuit, but a few sharp words from frank restrained him. "whar are yer goin'?" inquired lee, walking carelessly down the bank. "i'm going to the village," answered frank. "will yer give a feller a ride?" "certainly. jump in." the hillers accordingly clambered into the boat, and, in a few moments, they reached the wharf, at the back of the post-office. lee and his companions immediately sprang out, and walked off, without saying a word; and frank, after fastening his boat to the wharf, began to pull down the sails, when he discovered that the hillers had left two large strings of trout behind them. hastily catching them up, he ran around the corner of the post-office, and saw lee and his followers, some distance up the road. "hallo!" he shouted, at the top of his lungs; "lee powell!" but they paid no attention to him. "i know they heard me," said frank. and he shouted again, but with no better success. at length, one of the village boys, who was coming across the fields, with a basket of strawberries on his arm, shouted to the hillers, and, when he had gained their attention, pointed toward frank, "see here!" frank shouted, as he held up the fish; "you have forgotten these." "no, i guess not," shouted lee, in reply. "we hillers don't forget favors as easy as all that comes to. ye're welcome to 'em." and he and his companions walked rapidly off. chapter xi. trout-fishing. a few days after the events related in the preceding chapter transpired, frank, with one or two companions, was standing in the post-office, waiting for the opening of the mail. the steamer had just landed, and the passengers which she had brought were slowly walking toward the hotel, where they intended to take dinner. at length, a village hack came rapidly down the road leading from the wharf, and, when it came opposite the post-office, a head was suddenly thrust out at the window, the driver reined in his horses, the door flew open, and archie winters sprang out. we shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the cousins, nor the joy that prevailed among the village boys at the arrival of their city friend. archie had not written that it was his intention to come so soon, and his sudden appearance among them took them completely by surprise. after a few moments' conversation, frank and archie got into the carriage, and, in a short time, were set down at the door of mrs. nelson's house. frank's mother and sister expressed much joy at archie's arrival, and, after the excitement of meeting was over, they inquired after his parents. "when are they coming?" asked frank. "they intended to come in the fall," answered archie, "but father has more business on his hands than he expected, and they may not be here before the holidays; but i couldn't wait." "i'm glad you didn't," said frank. "you are not going home before spring, are you?" "no," said archie, "i'm going to stay as long as you will keep me." frank was overjoyed at this, and, if he had not been in the house, he would have given, as he said, "a yell that would have done credit to an indian." but, before going further, we must say a word about archie's companions--we mean his dogs. one of them, that answered to the name of sport, was as fine a fox-hound as one would wish to see. he was a large, tan-colored animal, very fleet and courageous, and was well acquainted with all the tricks of his favorite game, and the boys often boasted that "sport had never lost a fox in his life." the black fox, which had held possession of reynard's island so long, was captured by frank and his cousin, with the assistance of sport, after a chase of three hours. lightfoot--for that was the name of the other--was an english grayhound. he stood full three feet high at the shoulders, and his speed was tremendous. he was young, however, and knew nothing about hunting; but he had been taught to "fetch and carry," and, as he learned very readily, the boys expected plenty of sport in training him. after supper, archie's trunk was carried into the "study," and the boys busied themselves in taking out its contents. the clothing was all packed away in the bureau; and then came archie's "sporting cabinet," as he called it--a fine double-barreled shot-gun, which was hung upon the frame at the foot of the bed; a quantity of ammunition, a small hatchet, powder-flasks, shot bags, and a number of other things, which were stowed away in safe places. at length archie drew out two fish-poles, neatly stowed away in strong bags, and one of them proved to be the one about which archie had written. this was placed away in one corner, and frank promised to mend it immediately. "see here," said archie, as he drew out two queer-looking implements; "i have been acting on the suggestion of uncle joe lewis." "what are they?" inquired frank. one of them was a thin rod of steel, about three feet in length, very pointed and sharp at the end the other looked very much like a fish-spear, only the "tines" were smaller and sharper. "they are spears," said archie, in answer to frank's question. "so i see; but what use can you put them to?" "this," said archie, taking up the rod of steel, "is a mink-spear. last winter we lost a good many minks, when, if we had had an instrument like this, we could have secured them easily enough. you know that sometimes you get a mink into a place where you can see him, but, if you go to work to chop a hole large enough to get a stick in to kill him, he will jump out before you know what you are about. you will remember a little incident of this kind that happened last winter--that day we had such good luck. we were following a mink up the creek on the ice, when brave suddenly stopped before a hollow stub, and stuck his nose into a hole, and acted as if there was a mink in there; and, you know, we didn't believe there was, but we thought we could stop and see. so we cut a hole in the stub, and, sure enough, there was a mink, and, as good luck would have it, we had cut the hole close to the place where he was, and we thought we had him sure; and, while harry butler went to cut a stick to kill him with, i chopped the hole a little larger, so that we could see him plainer, when, all of a sudden, out popped the mink, and, before we could say 'scat,' it was under the ice." "yes," said frank, "i remember it very well; and, i guess, there were some mad boys around that place, somewhere." "yes," said archie, "i was provoked because it was all my fault that we lost him. if we had had this spear, we could have killed him easy enough. we wouldn't be obliged to cut a hole larger than an inch square, and no mink i ever saw could get through that. and this," he continued, taking up the other instrument, "is a muskrat-spear. the way to proceed is this: go to a muskrat's house, and, with an ax, cut a chunk out of the top, directly over where they sleep." "and, by the time you get that done," said frank, with a laugh, "the muskrats will be out of your way." "i know that; they will undoubtedly start off the first blow you strike, and swim to some breathing-hole; but in a quarter of an hour they will be sure to return. while they are gone, you will have plenty of time to cut the chunk, and, after taking it out, place it carefully back, in such a manner that it can be removed instantly; then, if there are any other houses near, serve them in the same way. then, in half an hour or so, take your spear and go to the houses, making as little noise at possible, and let your companion lift out the chunk suddenly, and you be ready to strike. father says he has seen uncle joe lewis catch half a dozen in one house, in this way, very frequently. he always spears the one nearest the passage that leads from the house down into the water, and this will prevent the others from escaping." "i don't much like the idea," said frank. "neither do i," said archie. "it will do well enough for those who make their living by hunting; but, if i want to hunt muskrats, i would rather wait until the ice breaks up, in spring; i can then shoot them quite fast enough to suit me, and the sport is more exciting." one morning, about a week after archie's arrival, they arose, as usual, very early, and, while they were dressing, frank drew aside the curtain, and looked out. "i say, archie," he exclaimed, "you've got your wish; it's a first-rate morning to go trout-fishing." archie had been waiting impatiently for a cloudy day; he was very fond of trout-fishing, and he readily agreed to his cousin's proposal to "take a trip to dungeon brook," and they commenced pulling on their "hunting and fishing rig," as they called it, which consisted of a pair of stout pantaloons that would resist water and dirt to the last extremity, heavy boots reaching above their knees, and a blue flannel shirt. while archie was getting their fishing-tackle ready, frank busied himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up. their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their india-rubber coats--for frank said it would rain before they returned--they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles in their hands, and started out. dungeon brook lay about five miles distant, through the woods. it was a long tramp, over fallen logs and through thick bushes; but it was famous for its large trout, and the boys knew they would be well repaid for their trouble. in about two hours they arrived at their destination; and, after partaking of a lunch, which frank had brought, they rigged their "flies," and archie went up the brook a little distance, to try a place known among the boys as the "old trout-hole," while frank dropped his hook down close to a large log that lay across the stream, near the place where he was standing. the bait sank slowly toward the bottom, when, suddenly, there was a tremendous jerk, and the line whizzed through the water with a force that bent the tough, elastic pole like a "reed shaken with the wind." frank was a skillful fisherman, and, after a few moments' maneuvering, a trout weighing between three and four pounds lay floundering on the bank. archie soon came up, having been a little more successful, as two good-sized fish were struggling in his basket. they walked slowly down the brook, stopping now and then to try some favorite spot, and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they reached the place where the brook emptied into glen's creek, and were about two miles from home. they had been remarkably successful; their baskets were filled, and they had several "sockdologers" strung on a branch, which they carried in their hands. after dropping their hooks for a few moments among the perch, at the mouth of the brook, they unjointed their poles, and started toward home, well satisfied with their day's work. the next day, as frank and archie were on their way to the village, on foot--the wind being contrary, they could not sail--they met george and harry, who had started to pay them a visit. "hallo, boys!" exclaimed the former, as soon as they came within speaking distance, "we've got news for you." "and some that you will not like to hear, frank," said harry, with a laugh. "what is it?" inquired archie. "why, you know, charley morgan, some time since, sent to new york for a couple of sail-boats, a sloop and schooner. they arrived yesterday, and he thinks they are something great, and says the speedwell is nowhere." "yes," chimed in harry, "he said, when those boats came, he would show us 'country chaps' some sailing that would make us open our eyes; but, come to find out, they are perfect tubs. i saw the sloop coming up the creek, and she made poor headway. the alert can beat her all hollow, with only the foresail hoisted." during the conversation the boys had been walking toward the village, and, in a few moments, they reached the dock behind the post-office, where the two new boats lay. one of them was a short, "dumpy," sloop-rigged boat, with no deck or center-board, and the other was a beautifully-modeled schooner. "what do you think of them?" inquired harry, after they had regarded them several moments. "well," answered archie, "i have seen a good many boats like these in new york, but i don't think they will do much here. that schooner may show some fine sailing qualities, but that sloop will prove to be the slowest boat about the village; she is altogether too short. take it where the waves are long and regular, and she will do well enough but here in the river, where the waves are all chopped up, she can't accomplish much." "that's your private opinion, expressed here in this public manner, is it?" said a sneering voice. "you have made a fine show of your ignorance." the boys turned, and saw charles morgan and several of the rangers standing close by. "if i didn't know more about yachts than that," continued charles, "i'd go home and soak my head." this remark was greeted by the rangers with a loud laugh; and archie, who, like frank, was a very peaceable fellow, said, "every one to his own way of thinking, you know." "certainly," answered charles; "but, if i was as much of a blockhead as you are, i'd be careful to keep my thoughts to myself." archie did not answer, for he knew it would only add fuel to the fire; for charles's actions indicated that he was bent on getting up a quarrel. he had determined to make another attempt to "settle accounts" between himself and frank. "i'll bet you fifty dollars," said charles, "that there are not half a dozen boats about the village that can beat that sloop." "i'm not in the habit of betting," answered archie; "but, if you will find a boat about the village that _can't_ beat her, i'll eat your sloop." "you are green, indeed," said charles. "now, what do you suppose that sloop cost me?" "well," answered archie, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, "i think ten dollars would foot the bill." archie said this in so comical a manner that frank and the others could not refrain from laughing outright. charles was angry in an instant, and, quick as thought, he sprang forward and seized archie. but he soon discovered that he had undertaken more than he could accomplish; for his antagonist, though considerably smaller than himself, was possessed of enormous strength, and was as active as a cat, and he glided like an eel from charles's grasp, and, seizing him by both wrists, held him fast. after a few desperate, but ineffectual, attempts to free himself, charles shouted to the rangers, who had been bustling about in a state of considerable excitement, but very prudently keeping in the background, "help, help, you cowards!" but nothing could induce them to attempt the rescue. at this moment a boat, which had entered the creek unnoticed by the boys, drew up to the dock, and a strong, cheery voice, called out, "hang on to him, little fellow--hang on to him. we've got a few little matters to settle up." and leo powell came running toward them, with half a dozen of his ragged followers close at his heels. "oh, let me go," cried charles, turning very pale, and writhing and twisting in the strong grasp that held him; "i'll be civil to you after this, only don't let them get hold of me; they will half kill me." archie accordingly released his captive, but the hillers were so close to him that charles dare not run, and he remained close to frank for protection, while the rest of the rangers beat a precipitate retreat. "here, pete, hold my coat," said lee, tossing his tattered garment to one of his companions; "i'll show this cap'n regulator that some folks are as good as others." and he advanced toward charles, and commenced rolling up his sleeves. "no, lee," said frank, placing himself before the frightened ranger, "you mustn't touch him." "mustn't touch him!" repeated lee, in surprise. "why, wasn't he jest tryin' to wallop your friend here?" "oh, he's able to defend himself," answered frank. "then he's all right. but i haven't paid for trying to regulate me, that night." "he didn't do it, did he?" inquired frank. "no, 'cause you fellows wouldn't let him." "then, we don't want you to whip him now." "wal, if you say so, i won't; but he oughter be larnt better manners--hadn't he, pete?" "'course," was pete's laconic answer. "now, charley," said archie, "you may take yourself off as soon as you wish; they will not hurt you." "not this time," said lee, shaking his hard fist in charles's face; "but we may come acrost you some time when you hasn't nobody to stand up for you; then you had better look out--hadn't he, pete?" "hadn't he, though!" was the answer. charles did not need any urging, and he was quickly out of sight. "i'd like to see you jest a minit, frank," said lee, as the former was about to move away. frank drew off on one side, and the hiller continued, "i promised i'd allers be a friend to you fellers that stood up for me that night, and i want to let you see that i haven't forgot my promise. i know that i can't do much for you, but i jest want to show you that i allers remember favors." here he turned, and made a motion to one of his companions, who darted off to the boat, and soon returned, bringing a young otter in his arms. "i allers heerd," continued lee, as his companion came up, "that you have a reg'lar hankerin' arter ketchin' and tamin' wild varmints. now, we want you to take this as a present from us. i know it ain't much, but, arter all, a young otter is a thing a feller can't ketch every day. will you take it?" "certainly," answered frank, as he took the little animal in his arms. "i have long wished for an otter, and i thank--" "hold on there," interrupted lee. "keep your thanks for them as needs them, or likes to hear 'em. we hillers have got feelings as well as any body. it's our way of bringin' up that makes us so bad. now, good-by; and, if you ever want any thing, jest call on lee powell." and he and his companions walked rapidly toward their boat, and soon disappeared. chapter xii. a deer-hunt on the water. the next morning, after breakfast, frank and his cousin, accompanied by the dogs, got into the skiff, and pulled up the creek, on a "prospecting expedition." they had started for the swamp, which lay about two miles and a half from the cottage, to see what the prospects were for a good muskrat-hunt in the spring. this swamp covered, perhaps, five hundred acres, and near its center was a small lake, which emptied into glen's creek. a few moments' pulling brought them to this lake, and frank, who was seated at the helm, turned the boat's head toward a high point that projected for some distance out into the lake, and behind which a little bay set back into the land. this point was the only high land about the swamp, and stretched away back into the woods for several miles. it was a favorite place for sunfish and perch; and the boys landed, and were rigging their poles, intending to catch some for their dinner, when they heard a strange noise, that seemed to come from the bay behind the point. they knew in a moment that it was made by a duck, but still it was a sound they had never heard before, and, hunter-like, they determined to discover where it came from. so, reaching for their guns, they crawled carefully through the bushes, until they came within sight of the bay. a brood of young ducks, under the direction of two old ones, were sporting about among the broad leaves of the water-lilies. they had never seen any like them before; but frank knew in a moment, from descriptions he had often read, that they were eider-ducks, and he determined, if possible, to capture some of the young ones, which, he noticed, were but half-fledged, and too small to fly. but the question was how to proceed. if the ducklings could not fly, they could swim like a streak; and he knew that, the moment they were alarmed, they would either make for the opposite side of the bay or for the lake, and, if they succeeded in reaching the open water, he might whistle for his ducks. his only chance was to corner them in the bay; they would then be obliged to hide among the lilies, and perhaps they might succeed in capturing some of them. hurriedly whispering to his cousin, they crept back to the skiff, pulled around the point, and entered the bay. the moment they came in sight, the old ones uttered their cries of warning, took to wing, and flew out over the lake, and, as they had expected, the young ones darted in among the lilies, and were out of sight in an instant. but the boys had kept their eyes open, and knew about where to look for them; and, after half an hour's chase, they succeeded in securing three of them with the dip-net. after tying them up in their caps, frank pulled leisurely along out of the bay, and was just entering the lake, when archie, who was steering, suddenly turned the boat toward the shore, and said, in a scarcely audible whisper, "a deer--a deer! sure as i live!" frank looked in the direction his cousin indicated, and saw a large buck standing in the edge of the water, not twenty rods from them. luckily he had not heard their approach, and frank drew the boat closer under the point, to watch his motions. they were a good deal excited, and archie's hand trembled like a leaf, as he reached for his gun. another lucky circumstance was, that the dogs had not discovered him. brave and hunter could have been kept quiet, but lightfoot was not sufficiently trained to be trusted. the boys determined to make an effort to capture him; he would make a splendid addition to their museum. besides, they had never killed a deer, and now the opportunity was fairly before them. but the question was how to proceed. the buck was out of range of their shot-guns, and they knew it would be worse than useless to fire at him; so they concluded to lie still in the boat, and await the movements of the game. the buck was standing in the water, up to his knees, deliberately cropping the leaves of the lilies, and now and then gazing toward the opposite shore, as if he were meditating upon something. at length he appeared to have decided upon his course, for he waded deeper into the water, and swam boldly out into the lake. this was exactly what the boys had wished for; and, when the buck had made about ten rods from the shore, archie took his seat at the oars, and pulled the boat silently out from behind the point. the moment they entered the lake, lightfoot discovered the game, and uttered a loud bark. the buck heard it, and his first impulse was to turn and regain the shore he had just left. but archie gave way on the oars manfully, and succeeded in intercepting him; and the buck, finding himself fairly cut off, uttered a loud snort, and, seeming to understand that his only chance for escape was straight ahead, he settled himself down in the water, and struck out again for the opposite shore. the dogs now all broke out into a continuous barking, and archie exclaimed, in an excited voice, "shoot him! shoot him!" "he is too far off," answered frank. "you must remember that our guns are loaded with small shot. give way lively!" the boys very soon discovered that they had no easy task before them. the light skiff, propelled by archie's powerful strokes, danced rapidly over the little waves; but the buck was a fast swimmer and made headway through the water astonishingly. "don't we gain on him any?" inquired archie, panting hard from his exertions. "yes, a very little," answered frank. "but he swims like a streak." at length they reached the middle of the lake, and frank, to his delight, discovered that they were gaining rapidly. archie redoubled his efforts, and a few more strokes brought them close alongside of the buck, which snorted aloud in his terror, and leaped half-way out of the water, then settled down nobly to his work. had frank been an experienced deer-hunter, he would have been very careful not to approach the game in that manner; for a deer, when he finds himself unable to escape, will fight most desperately, and his sharp antlers and hoofs, which will cut like a knife, are weapons not to be despised. but frank, in his excitement, did not step to think of this, and, letting go the tiller, he seized his gun, and fired both barrels in quick succession. but the shot was not fatal; and the buck, maddened with pain, leaped almost entirely out of the water. frank now saw their danger, and, seizing the oars, attempted to turn the boat out of the reach of the wounded animal; but it was too late, for the buck, in his struggles, placed his fore-feet in the bow of the skiff, and overturned it in an instant, and boys, dogs, ducks, and all, were emptied into the cold waters of the lake. when they rose to the surface, they found the skiff right side up, and dancing over the waves they had made, and the ducks and oars were floating in the water around them. their first thought was to discover what had become of the buck; he and brave were engaged in a most desperate fight, in which the dog was evidently getting the better of it. the hounds, probably not relishing their ducking, were making for the nearest shore, as if their lives depended upon the issue. frank swam up to the skiff, and took hold of it, to keep himself afloat; but archie picked up an oar, and struck out toward the buck, exclaiming, "i guess i'd better take a hand in this fight." "no, no," said frank, quickly, "you had better keep away from him; he has too much strength left. he would beat you down under the water in less than a minute. brave can manage him alone." the next moment frank happened to think of his gun. where was it? he drew himself up and looked into the canoe. it was not there; it was at the bottom of the lake. "archie," he exclaimed, "we've lost our guns." "just my luck," answered his cousin, bitterly. "now, i'll have revenge for that." and, swimming around behind the buck, out of reach of his dangerous hoofs, he raised himself in the water, and struck him a powerful blow, that shivered the blade of the oar into fragments. it was a fatal blow; and the buck ceased his struggles, and lay motionless on the water. it was a lucky circumstance for brave that archie had taken part in the fight, for the poor dog had experienced some pretty rough handling. he had received several wounds from the sharp hoofs of the buck, and there was a severe cut in his neck, from which the blood was flowing profusely; but the way he continued to shake the buck after archie had dealt the fatal blow showed that there was plenty of fight left in him. frank carefully lifted him into the boat, and, by their united efforts, after a good deal of hard work, the buck was thrown in after him. the boys then climbed in themselves, and frank said, "well, we have captured our first deer, haven't we?" "i wish we had never seen him," answered archie. "we've lost our guns by the operation." "i am afraid so; but we will, at least, make an attempt to recover them." "how will we go to work?" "we will dive for them." archie shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply. frank's first care was to bandage brave's neck with his handkerchief. he then divested himself of his clothes, and, after wringing the water out of them, he spread them out in the bow of the boat to dry. "i don't much like the idea of going down in there," said archie, looking dubiously at the dark, muddy water; "there may be snakes in it, or it may be full of logs, or the bottom may be covered with weeds that will catch hold of a fellow's leg and keep him down." "i can't help it," said frank; "we must have the guns; i'd rather risk any thing than lose them. the only thing i am afraid of is that the water is too deep. i'll be a little careful at first" so saying, he lowered himself over the side of the boat, and, drawing in a long breath, sank slowly out of sight. meanwhile archie was pulling off his clothes, and, when his cousin appeared, he exclaimed, "how do things look down there? rather muddy, isn't it?" "yes," answered frank, as he wiped the water from his face, "but the bottom is all clear, and the water is only about fifteen feet deep." "did you see any thing of the guns?" "no, i couldn't stay down long enough to make observations. i'm going to dive this time," he continued, as he commenced climbing back into the boat. "well, here goes!" said archie. and, clasping his hands above his head, he dived out of sight, and frank followed close after. when the latter again appeared at the surface, he found archie holding on to the boat, with one of the guns elevated above his head, to allow the water to run out of the barrels. the boys climbed up into the boat, and dived again, but neither of them met with any success. the next time archie was again the fortunate one, for, when frank rose to the surface, he was climbing up into the boat, with the other gun in his hand. "i don't call this a very unlucky hunt, after all," said frank. "neither do i," said archie. "i say, frank," he continued, "i wish we could reproduce in our museum the scene we have just passed through." "so do i. if we could represent the buck in the act of upsetting us, it would be our 'masterpiece,' wouldn't it? but i am afraid that is further than our ingenuity extends." the boys drew on their clothes, which were but partially dry, and, after pulling ashore to get the hounds, which had kept up a loud barking all the time, they turned the boat's head toward home. after changing their clothes and eating a hearty dinner--during which they related their adventure to mrs. nelson and julia--they carefully removed the buck's skin, and hung it up in the shop by a fire to dry. their guns were found to be none the worse for their ducking; the loads, of course, were wet, and had to be drawn, but a good coat of oil, and a thorough rubbing inside and out, made them look as good as new. during the afternoon, as the boys sat on the piazza in front of the house, talking over the events of the morning, their attention was attracted by a combat that was going on between one of frank's pet kingbirds and a red-headed woodpecker. the latter was flying zigzag through the air, and the kingbird was pecking him most unmercifully. at length the woodpecker took refuge in a tree that stood on the bank of the creek, and then seemed perfectly at his ease. he always kept on the opposite side of the tree, and the kingbird, active as he was, could not reach him. his loud, angry twittering soon brought his mate to his assistance, and then the woodpecker found himself between two fires. after trying in vain to elude them, he suddenly popped into a hole in the tree, and stuck out his long bill, as if defying them to enter. the kingbirds were completely outwitted; and, after making two or three angry darts at the hole in which their cunning enemy had taken refuge, they settled down on the branches close by to wait until he should show himself. they had no intention of giving up the contest. the woodpecker seemed to take matters very coolly, and improved his time by pounding away industriously on the inside of the tree. occasionally he would thrust his head out of the hole, but, seeing his enemies still on the watch, he would dodge back, and go to work again. after waiting fully a quarter of an hour for him to come out, and seeing that the kingbirds had no idea of "raising the siege," archie concluded (to age his own expression) that he "might as well lend a little assistance." so he ran round to the shop, and, having procured an ax, he went up to the tree, and dealt it a heavy blow. the next moment the woodpecker flew out, and the kingbirds were after him in an instant they followed him until he reached the woods, and then returned to the cottage. chapter xiii. a 'coon-hunt. we might relate many more interesting events that transpired before the hunting season set in; we might tell of the "tall times" the boys had whipping the trout-streams, of the trials of speed that came off on the river, when it turned out, as archie had predicted, that charles morgan's sloop "couldn't sail worth a row of pins;" and we might tell of many more desperate "scrapes" that came off between the bully and his sworn enemies the hillers; but we fear, reader, you are already weary of the young naturalist's home-life, and long to see him engaging in his favorite recreations--roaming through the woods, with his gun on his shoulder, or dealing death among the ducks on the river. well, autumn came at length; and, early one chilly, moonlight evening, frank and his cousin, accompanied by george and harry, might have been seen picking their way across the meadow at the back of mrs. nelson's lot, and directing their course toward a large cornfield, that lay almost in the edge of a piece of thick woods, about a quarter of a mile distant. they had started on a 'coon-hunt. frank and harry, who were two of the best shots in the village, were armed with their double-barreled shot-guns, and the others carried axes and lanterns. we have said that it was a moonlight night, but, so far as a view of the chase was concerned, the light of the moon would benefit them but little; and the boys carried the lanterns, not to be able to follow the 'coon when started, but to discover him when "treed," and to assist them in picking their way through the woods. during a raccoon-hunt, but little is seen either of the dogs or the game. the woods, let the moon shine ever so bright, are pitch-dark; and the dogs rely on their scent and the hunter trusts to his ears. the 'coon seldom strays far from his tree, and, of course, when started, draws a "bee-line" for home, and the game is for the dogs--which should be very swift, hardy animals, having the courage to tackle him if he should turn at bay--to overtake him, and compel him to take to some small tree, where he can be easily shaken off or shot. but if he succeeds in reaching home, which he always makes in a large tree, he is safe, unless the hunter is willing to go to work and fell the tree. the boys were accompanied by their dogs, which followed close at their heels. lightfoot was about to take his first lesson in hunting, but brave and sport evidently knew perfectly well what the game was to be, and it was difficult to restrain them. a few moments' walk brought them to the corn field. a rail-fence ran between the field and the woods; and two of the boys, after lighting their lanterns, climbed over the fence, and the others waved their hands to the dogs, and ordered them to "hunt 'em up." brave and sport were off in an instant, and lightfoot was close at their heels, mechanically following their motions, and evidently wondering at their strange movements. the boys moved quietly along the fence, and, in a few moments, a quick, sharp yelp from brave announced that he had started the first 'coon. the boys cheered on the dogs, and presently a dark object appeared, coming at full speed through the corn, and passed, at a single bound, over the fence. the dogs, barking fierce and loud at every jump, were close at his heels, and both they and the game speedily disappeared in the darkness. the boys followed after, picking their way through the bushes with all possible speed. the chase was a short one, for the dogs soon broke out in a regular, continuous barking, which announced that the 'coon was treed. the hunters, guided by the noise, soon came in sight of them, standing at the foot of a small sapling. brave and sport took matters very easily, and seemed satisfied to await the arrival of the boys, but lightfoot had caught sight of the 'coon as he was ascending the tree, and was bounding into the air, and making every exertion to reach him. frank and harry stood ready with their guns to shoot him, and the others held their lanterns aloft, and peered up into the top of the tree, to discover his hiding-place; but nothing could be seen of him. the sapling had grown up rather high, and all objects outside of the circle of light made by their lanterns seemed to be concealed by egyptian darkness. "he's up there, i know," said archie. and, laying down his ax and lantern, he caught hold of the sapling, and shook it with all his strength. but it was a little too large for him to manage, and, although it swayed considerably, the 'coon could easily retain his hold. "well," said archie, "if he will not come down to us, we'll have to go up to him, i suppose." and he commenced ascending the tree. archie was a good hand at climbing, and had shaken more than one 'coon from his roost, and he carefully felt his way up, until he had almost reached the top of the sapling, when, not wishing to trust his weight on the small limbs, he stopped, and again shook the tree, and this time with better success. there was an angry snarling among the branches above his head, and the 'coon, after trying in vain to retain his hold, came tumbling to the ground. quick as thought the dogs were upon him, and, although he made a most desperate resistance, he was speedily overpowered and killed. the boys picked up their prize, and went back to the cornfield. the dogs were again sent in, and another 'coon was started, which, like the first, "drew a bee-line" for the woods, with the dogs close behind, and the boys, worked up to the highest pitch of excitement, followed after as fast as their legs could carry them. the 'coon had managed to get a good start of his pursuers, and he led them a long chase through a low, swampy part of the woods, to the top of a ridge, where the heavy timber grew; and when, at length, the boys came up with the dogs, they found them standing at the foot of a large maple fully ten feet in circumference. "there!" exclaimed george, "the rascal has succeeded in reaching home. good-by, 'coon!" "yes," said frank, leaning on the muzzle of his gun, and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "we're minus that 'coon, easily enough, unless we wait until morning, and cut the tree down." "look here, boys," suddenly exclaimed george, who had been holding his lantern above his head, and examining the sides of the tree; "did you ever see a tree look like this before?" as they moved around to the side where george stood, archie called out, "there must be a big nest of 'coons in here; the tree is completely skinned." "yes," said frank, "we've accidentally stumbled upon a regular 'coon-tree. there must be a big family of them living here. the tree looks as if some one had taken an ax and cleaned off the bark. but," he added, "finding where the 'coons have been and catching them are two very different things." "what do you mean?" inquired archie, "you don't pretend to say that the 'coons are not in the tree?" "certainly i do. i wouldn't be afraid to stake brave against any little cur in the village that the 'coon the dogs have just followed here is the only one in the tree." "what makes you think so?" "why, now is their feeding-time, and all the 'coons in this part of the woods are in the cornfield. it wouldn't pay to cut down this big tree for one 'coon; so let's go home and go to bed, and early to-morrow morning we will come back here and bag our game." the boys agreed to this, and they whistled to their dogs, and started through the woods toward home. the next morning, at the first peep of day, they again set out, and in half an hour arrived at the 'coon-tree. the boys knew that they had something to accomplish before they could secure their game, but they were not the ones to shun hard work. they had frequently cut down trees for a single 'coon, and they felt confident that there were at least three of the animals in the tree, and they were willing to work for them. archie and george were armed, as on the preceding night, with axes, and, after pulling off their coats, they placed themselves on opposite sides of the tree, and set manfully to work. harry and frank stood by, ready to take their places when they grew tired, and the dogs seated themselves on the ground close by, with their tongues hanging out of the sides of their mouths, and now and then giving vent to an impatient whine. the boys worked for an hour and a half--taking their turns at chopping--almost without speaking. at length the top of the tree began to waver, and a loud crack announced that it was about to fall. frank and archie were chopping, and the blows of their axes resounded with redoubled force, and the other boys caught up the guns, and ran off in the direction in which the tree was about to fall, followed by sport and lightfoot, and brave stationed himself close behind his master, and barked and whined furiously. a few sturdy blows finished the business, and the tree began to sink--slowly at first, then with a rushing sound, and struck the earth with a tremendous crash. in an instant boys and dogs were among the branches. the 'coons--some of which were not injured in the least by the fall--scattered in every direction; and one of them--a fine, large fellow--bounded off through the bushes. frank discovered him just in time, and, fearing that he would lose sight of him, he hurled his ax at him with all his strength; but it went wide of the mark, and frank started in hot pursuit. he was very swift of foot, and there seemed to be no limit to his endurance, but, in running through the bushes, the 'coon had decidedly the advantage. frank was not slow to discover this, and he began to think about sending his ax after him again, when he heard a crashing in the bushes behind him, and the grayhound passed him like the wind, and two or three of his tremendous bounds brought him up with the 'coon. frank knew very well that lightfoot had something of a job before him, for it requires a very tough, active dog to "handle" a full-grown coon when he is cornered. but frank thought it was a capital time to judge of the grayhound's "grit;" so he cheered him on, and hurried forward to witness the fight. as lightfoot came up, he made a grab at the 'coon, which, quick as a flash, eluded him, and, when the hound turned upon him, the 'coon gave him one severe bite, when lightfoot uttered a dismal howl, and, holding his nose close to the ground, beat a hasty retreat; and the young naturalist could not induce him to return. during the fight, short as it was, frank had gained considerably, and, as the 'coon turned to make off, he again threw his ax at him, which, true to its aim, struck the 'coon on the head, and stretched him lifeless on the ground. meanwhile archie was endeavoring to secure his 'coon, under rather more difficult circumstances. as soon as the tree had begun to fall, archie dropped his ax, seized a short club that lay near him on the ground, and, discovering a 'coon making for the bushes, he started after him at full speed. the animal appeared to run heavily, as if he had been partially stunned by the falling of the tree; and archie had followed him but a short distance, when he had the satisfaction of discovering that he was gaining at every step. the 'coon seemed to understand that his chance of escape was rather small; and, after various windings and twistings, commenced ascending a small tree. archie ran forward with all possible speed, with the hope of reaching the tree before he could climb out of the way. the 'coon moved but slowly, and archie felt sure of his prize; and, as soon as he came within the proper distance, he struck a powerful blow at the animal, but he was just out of reach, and the club was shivered to pieces against the tree. archie, however, did not hesitate a moment, but, placing his hands on the tree, commenced climbing after him. the 'coon ascended to the topmost branch, and looked down on his enemy, growling and snapping his teeth, as if to warn him that he intended to make a desperate resistance; but archie was not in the least intimidated, and, reaching the branch on which the 'coon was seated, he shook it violently, and the animal tumbled to the ground, and, as soon as he could regain his feet, started off again. archie descended as quickly as possible, and started in pursuit, hoping to overtake his game before he could again take to a tree. there was an abundance of large trees growing in the woods, and, if the 'coon should take it into his head to ascend one of them, archie might whistle for his game. the young hunter well understood this, and he "put in his best licks," as he afterward remarked, and, in a few moments, had almost overtaken him, and began to look around for something to strike him with, when the 'coon, as if guessing his intention, suddenly turned and ran up a large tree that stood close by, and, crawling out on a limb, about fifty feet from the ground, he settled himself down, as if he had concluded to take matters more easily. this was discouraging; and archie seated himself on a log under the tree, and for a moment thought seriously of giving up the chase. but the 'coon was a fine, fat fellow, and his skin would make a valuable addition to the museum, and, besides, he had followed him so far already, that he was reluctant to go back to his companions without him, and, on second thought, he concluded that he would _not_ go back unless he could carry the 'coon with him. he first thought of ascending the tree, but, after taking a hasty survey of it, he abandoned the idea. the tree was partially decayed; in fact, there was but one sound limb in it that archie could discover, and that was about four feet above the one on which the 'coon was seated, and stretched out directly over it. archie did not like the idea of trusting himself among the unsound limbs, and, besides, the cunning animal had crawled out to the extreme end of one of the decayed branches, which bent beneath his weight, and the young hunter, of course, could not follow him. there was only one way that archie could discover to bring him down; and he straightway opened upon the devoted 'coon a tremendous shower of clubs and sticks. he was a very accurate thrower, and, for some time, had hopes of being able to bring down the 'coon; but, although the missiles frequently hit him, archie could not throw them with sufficient force; and he again turned his attention to the tree. throwing his arms around it, he commenced working his way up. the bark was very smooth and slippery, and the lowest limb was the one on which the 'coon had taken refuge; but he kept steadily at work, and his progress, though slow, was sure, and he reached the limb; and, bearing as little of his weight as possible upon it, he drew himself up to the sound limb above. after testing it thoroughly, to make sure that it would sustain his weight, he commenced walking out on the branch on which the 'coon was seated, keeping a firm hold of the limb above his head. he had made scarcely a dozen steps, when there was a loud crack, and the branch on which he was standing broke into fragments, and fell to the ground with a crash, carrying the 'coon with it, and leaving archie hanging in the air, fifty feet from the ground. not in the least terrified at his dangerous situation, the young hunter coolly swung himself up on the limb, and, crawling carefully back to the tree, slid rapidly down the trunk, and, as if nothing had happened, ran to the place where the 'coon had fallen, hoping that at last he was secured. but he was again disappointed. nothing was to be seen of the animal, and only a few drops of blood on the leaves indicated the direction in which he had gone. this quickly caught archie's eye, and he began to follow up the trail, which led toward a creek that flowed close by. but when he arrived upon its bank he was again at fault--the trail was lost; and, while he was running up and down the bank, searching for it, he happened to cast his eye toward the opposite side of the creek, and there was his 'coon, slowly ascending a tall stump that stood at the water's edge. archie could not refrain from giving a shout of joy, for he was confident that the chase would soon be over; and he hurried, impatiently, up and down the bank to find some place to cross, and finally discovered a small tree lying in the water, whose top reached almost to the opposite bank. the 'coon had undoubtedly crossed on this bridge; and archie sprang upon it. it shook considerably, but he kept on, and had almost reached the opposite side, when the tree broke, and he disappeared in the cold water. he rose immediately, and, shaking the water from his face, struck out for the shore, puffing and blowing like a porpoise. a few lusty strokes brought him to the bank, and, as he picked up a handful of stones, he said to himself, "i guess i'm all right now. if i could only have found some stones when i treed that 'coon in the woods, he would not have been up there now, and i should not have got this wet hide. but we'll soon settle accounts now." as we have said, the 'coon had taken refuge in a high stump. the branches had all fallen off, with the exception of one short one, about two feet from the top; and the 'coon, after trying in vain to squeeze 'himself into a small hole, about half-way up the stump, settled down on this limb, and appeared to be awaiting his fate. archie took a favorable position, and, selecting a stone, hurled it with all his force at the 'coon. it whizzed harmlessly by, close to his head; but the next brought him to the ground, dead. "there!" exclaimed the young hunter, as he shouldered his prize, and walked up the creek to find a crossing-place, "i've worked pretty hard for 'coons, first and last, but this beats all the hunts i ever engaged in." he at length reached a place where the water was about knee-deep, waded across the creek, and started through the woods to find his companions. when he arrived at the place where they had felled the tree, he saw harry sitting on a log, with frank's gun in his hand, but nothing was to be seen of the other boys. as soon as the latter discovered archie, he burst into a loud laugh. "no doubt you think it a good joke," said archie, as he came up, "but i don't. it isn't a funny thing to tramp through the woods, on a cold day like this, with your clothes wringing wet. but i've got the 'coon." "you must have had a tough time catching him," said harry. "but let us go down to the camp." as they walked along, archie related his adventures; and, when he told about being "dumped in the creek," harry laughed louder than ever. a few moments' walk brought them to what harry had called the "camp." it was in a little grove of evergreens, on the banks of a clear, dancing trout-brook. a place about forty feet square had been cleared of the trees and bushes and in it stood a small, neatly-built, log-cabin, which frank and some of his companions had erected the winter previous. near the middle of the cabin a hole about four feet square, had been dug, and in this a fire was burning brightly; and a hole in the roof, directly over it, did duty both as chimney and window. on the floor, near the fire--or, rather, there _was_ no floor, the ground serving for that purpose--stood some tin dishes, which one of the boys had just brought to light from a corner of the cabin, four plates, as many knives and forks, two large platters, a coffee-pot, four quart-cups, and a pan containing some trout, which george had caught in the brook, all cleaned and ready for the spit, and there was also a large plate of bread and butter. frank, who always acted as cook on these expeditions, and knew how to get up a dinner that would tempt an epicure, was kneeling before the fire, engaged in skinning some squirrels which brave had treed for him. george was in front of the cabin, chopping wood; and close by the door lay five 'coons--the fruits of the morning's hunt; and near them lay the dogs, fast asleep. such was the scene presented when harry and archie burst in upon the camp. the latter was greeted with a loud laugh. "well, boys," said he, as he threw his 'coon down with the others, "you may laugh, but i wish some of you were obliged to go through what i did. i was bound to have the 'coon, if i had to follow him clear to moosehead lake." "that's the way to talk," said frank. "now, throw yourself down by the fire, and i'll soon be ready to give you something to eat. a cup or two of hot coffee will set you all right again." archie's ducking and his long walk in his wet clothes had chilled him completely through, and he was very willing to comply with his cousin's suggestion, and he drew up as close as possible to the fire. when frank had finished skinning the squirrels, he stuck them up before the fire, on spits, to roast. the trout he served in the same manner; and, raking out a few live coals from the fire, he placed the coffee-pot upon them, when the work of getting breakfast began in earnest. in the course of half an hour the impatience of the hungry hunters (whose appetites had been sharpened by the savory smell of the cooking viands) was relieved by frank's welcome invitation-- "now, boys, you may help yourselves." and they _did_ help themselves most bountifully. archie kept his place by the fire, and a plate filled with bread and butter, and roasted squirrel and trout, and a cup of coffee, were passed over to him; and, supporting himself on one elbow, he did them ample justice. the dogs were well supplied with what remained of the breakfast; and, after washing the dishes in the clear water of the brook, and placing them carefully away for future use, the boys seated themselves around the fire, and harry exclaimed, as he settled himself back into a comfortable position, "give us a story, frank." "well," answered frank, after thinking a few moments, "i remember one that, i think, will interest you. you will probably remember, archie, that, during the last visit we made at uncle joe's, we met his brother dick, who has passed forty years of his life among the rocky mountains. you will remember, also, that he and i went mink-trapping, and camped out all night, and during the evening he related to me some of his adventures, and wound up with the following story of his 'chum,' bill lawson. i will try to give it, as nearly as possible, in his own words. chapter xiv. bill lawson's revenge. "this bill larson," said dick, knocking the ashes from his pipe, "was _some_ in his day. i have told you about his trappin' qualities--that there was only one man in the county that could lay over him any, an' that was ole bob kelly. but bill had some strange ways about him, sometimes, that i could not understand, an' the way he acted a'most made me think he was crazy. sometimes you couldn't find a more jolly feller than he was; an' then, again, he would settle down into one of his gloomy spells, an' i couldn't get a word out of him. he would sit by the camp-fire, an' first fall to musing; then he would cover his face with his hands, an' i could see the big, scalding tears trickle through his fingers, an' his big frame would quiver and shake like a tree in a gale of wind; then he would pull out his long, heavy huntin'-knife, an' i could see that he had several notches cut in the handle. he would count these over an' over again; an' i could see a dark scowl settle on his face, that would have made me tremble if i had not known that i was his only sworn friend, an' he would mutter, "'only seven! only seven! there ought to be eight. there is one left. he must not escape me. no, no; he must die!' "an' then he would sheath his knife, an' roll himself up in his blanket, an' cry himself to sleep like a child. "i had been with ole bill a'most ten years--ever since i was a boy--but he had never told me the cause of his trouble. i didn't dare to ask him, for the ole man had curious ways sometimes, an' i knowed he wouldn't think it kind of me to go pryin' into his affairs, an' i knowed, too, that some day he would tell me all about it. "one night--we had been followin' up a bar all day--we camped on the side of a high mountain. it was very cold. the wind howled through the branches of the trees above our heads, makin' us pull our blankets closer about us an' draw as nigh to the fire as possible. "ole bill sat, as usual, leanin' his head on his hands, an' lookin' steadily into the fire. neither of us had spoken for more than an hour. at len'th the ole man raised his head, an' broke the silence by sayin', "'dick, you have allers been a good friend to me, an' have stuck by me like a brother, through thick an' thin, an', i s'pose, you think it is mighty unkind in me to keep any thing from you; an' so it is. an' now i'll tell you all.' "he paused a moment, an', wipin' the perspiration from his forehead with his coat-sleeve, continued, a'most in a whisper, "'dick, i was not allers as you see me now--all alone in the world. once i was the happiest boy west of the mountains. my father was a trader, livin' on the colorado river, i had a kind mother, two as handsome sisters as the sun ever shone on, an' my brother was one of the best trappers, for a boy, i ever see. he was a good deal younger nor i was, but he was the sharer of all my boyish joys an' sorrows. we had hunted together, an' slept under the same blanket ever since we were big enough to walk. oh! i was happy then! this earth seemed to me a paradise. now look at me--alone in the world, not one livin' bein' to claim me as a relation; an' all this was brought upon me in a single day.' "here the ole man stopped, an' buried his face in his hands; but, suddenly arousin' himself, he continued, "'one day, when the ice were a'most out of the river, father an' me concluded it was about time to start on our usual tradin' expedition; so we went to work an' got all our goods--which consisted of beads, hatchets, lookin'-glasses, blankets, an' such like--into the big canoe, an' were goin' to start 'arly in the mornin' to pay a visit to the osage injuns, an' trade our things for their furs. that night, while we were eatin' our supper, a party of horsemen came gallopin' an' yellin' down the bank of the river, an', ridin' up to the door of the cabin, dismounted, an', leavin' their horses to take care of themselves, came in without ceremony. we knowed very well who they were. they were a band of outlaws an' robbers, that had been in the county ever since i could remember, an', bein' too lazy to make an honest livin' by trappin', they went around plunderin' an' stealin' from every one they come across. they had stole three or four horses from us, an' had often come to our cabin an' called for whisky; but that was an article father never kept on hand. although he was an ole trapper, an' had lived in the woods all his life, he never used it, an' didn't believe in sellin' it to the red-skins. the captain of the outlaws was a feller they called "mountain tom," an' he was meaner than the meanest injun i ever see. he didn't think no more of cuttin' a man's throat than you would of shootin' a buck. the minute they came into the cabin we could see that they had all been drinkin'. they acted like a lot of wild buffalo-bulls, an', young as i was, i could see that they meant mischief, an' i knowed that our chance for life was small indeed. as i arterwards learned, they had been up the river, about two miles, to a half-breed's shanty, an' had found half a barrel of whisky, an', arter killin' the half-breed, an' drinkin' his liquor, they felt jest right for a muss, an' had come down to our cabin on purpose for a fight. "'"now, ole lawson," said mountain tom, leanin' his rifle up in the corner, "we have come down here for whisky. we know you've got some; so jest draw your weasel, if you want to save unpleasant feelin's; an' be in a hurry about it, too, for we're mighty thirsty." "'"tom," said my father, "how often have i told you that i haven't got a drop of liquor in the shanty? i never had. i don't use it myself, an' i don't keep it for--" "'"that's a lie!" yelled three or four of the band. "'"you a trader among the injuns, an' not keep whisky?" "'"we know a thing or two more than that." "'"we have heard that story often enough," said tom. "we know you have got the liquor, an' we are goin' to get it afore we leave this shanty. if you won't bring it out an' treat, like white man had ought to do, we'll have to look for it ourselves--that's all. here, boys," he said, turning to his men, "jest jump down into the cellar an' hunt it up, 'cause we know he's got some. an' you, jake," he added, catching hold of a big, ugly-lookin' feller, "you stand here, an shoot the first one that tries to get away." "'the men ran down into the cellar, and we could hear them cussin' an' swearin', as they overturned every thing in the useless search. my mother, a'most frightened to death, gathered us children around her, an' sank back into the furthest corner. i thought my father had gone crazy; he strode up an' down the floor of the cabin like some caged wild animal, clenchin' his hands an' grindin' his teeth in a way that showed that there was plenty of fight in him, if he only had a chance to let it out. once in awhile he would look at his rifle, that hung against the wall, then at the man that stood at the top of the cellar-stairs, guardin' us, as if he had a'most made up his mind to begin a knock-down an' drag-out fight with the rascals. but then he would look at my mother an' us children, back in the corner, an' go to pacin' the floor again. if we had been out of the way, i know that he would not have let them rummage about as he did; he would have had a fight with them that would do your eyes good to look at. but, as it was, i guess he kinder thought that if he was peaceable they would go off an' leave us, arter they found that no whisky was to be had. after searchin' around the cellar for more 'n ten minutes, one of 'em called out, "'"wal, boys, it's easy enough to see that the cuss has fooled us. thar's no liquor here. he's hid it in the woods, somewhere 'bout the shantee." "'"that's so," said another. "i'll bet he has got plenty of whisky somewhere. let's go up and hang him till he tells us where it is." "'"no, no, that won't do," said mountain tom. "you fellers are gettin' so that you talk like babies. shoot the rascal down. we've had trouble enough with him. if we can't get the liquor here, there are plenty of places where we can get it." "'"that's the talk!" yelled the band. "shoot him down! tear him to pieces!" "'the man who was standin' at the head of the stairs heard all the rascals had said, an', with a yell of delight, he raised his rifle an' drew a bead on my mother. but the ole man was too quick for him. with a bound like a painter, he sprang across the floor, an', grabbin' the villain by the throat, lifted him from his feet, and throwed him down into the cellar, an' in an instant shut the door, an' fastened it with a heavy bar of wood. then, takin' down his rifle, he said to us, a'most in a whisper, "'"now run! run for your lives! we must cross the prairy an' get into the woods afore the rascals cut their way out. run! quick!" "'my mother took my sisters by the hand an' led them out, an' me an' my brother followed her. father closed both the windows an' the door, an' fastened them on the outside. all this while the robbers had been yellin' an' swearin', an' cuttin' away at the cellar-door with their tomahawks; an' we well knowed that they would soon be out an' arter us. our cabin stood in a large, natural prairy, an' we had to travel full half a mile acrost the open ground afore we come to the woods. my father followed close behind us, with his rifle, ready to shoot the first one that come in sight, an' kept urgin' us to go faster. we hadn't gone more'n half the distance acrost the prairy, when a loud crash and yells of triumph told us, plain enough, that the villains had worked their way out of the cellar. then heavy blows sounded on the window-shutter, which, strong as it was, we knowed could not long hold out ag'in 'em. in a few minutes it was forced from its hinges, an' mountain tom sprang out. "'"here they are, boys," he shouted. "come on! we'll l'arn 'em not to hide--" "'the report of father's rifle cut short his words, an' mountain tom, throwin' his hands high above his head, sank to the ground like a log. by this time the rest of the band had come out, an the bullets rattled around us like hailstones. my father and brother both fell-the latter never to rise; but father, although he had received three bullets, staggered to his feet, an' follered along arter us, loadin' his rifle. then began the race for life. it seemed to me that we flew over the ground, but the villains gained on us at every step. just as we reached the woods, my father called out, "'"down--down, every one of you! they're going to shoot again!" "'obeyin' that order was what saved my life. i throwed myself flat into the bushes, an' escaped unhurt; but both my sisters were shot dead, an' my father received another ball that brought him to the ground. my mother, instead of thinkin' of herself, kneeled beside him, an' supported his head in her arms. the next minute the outlaws entered the woods, an' one passed so close to me that i could have touched him. "'"wal, bill lawson," said a voice that i knowed belonged to mountain tom, "you see i'm here again. i s'pose you kind o' thought you had rubbed me out, didn't you?" "'"yes, i did," said father--an' his voice was so weak that i could hardly hear him. "'"you won't have a chance to draw a bead on me again, i guess. we shoot consider'ble sharp--don't we?" "'"i shan't live long," said father. "but, whatever you do to me, be merciful to my wife an'--" "'the dull thud of the tomahawk cut short my father's dying prayer, an' his brains were spattered on the bush where i was concealed; an', a'most at the same moment, another of the band buried his knife in my mother's heart.' "old bill could go no further. he buried his face in his hands an' cried like a child. at length, by a strong effort, he choked down his sobs, and went on. "'i knew no more until i found myself lyin' in the cabin of an ole hunter, who lived about ten miles from where we used to live. he had been out huntin', an' had found me lyin' close beside my father an' mother. he thought i was dead, too, at first, but he found no wounds on me; so, arter buryin' all my relatives in one grave, he took me home with him. in three or four days i was able to get around again; an', beggin' a rifle an' some powder an' ball of the ole hunter, i started out. i went straight to the grave that contained all i loved on earth, an' there, kneelin' above their heads, i swore that my life should be devoted to but one object--vengeance on the villains who had robbed me of all my happiness. how well i have kept my oath the notches on my knife will show. seven of them have fallen by my tomahawk; one only is left, an' that is mountain tom. for fifteen long years i have been on his trail; but the time will come when my vengeance will be complete.' "an' the ole man rolled himself up in his blanket, an', turning his back to me, sobbed himself to sleep. "but my story is not yet told," continued dick. "about a year arter this, bill an' me were ridin' along, about noon, in a little valley among the mountains, when we came, all of a sudden, on the camp of two trappers. "'heaven be praised! there he is!' said ole bill. "an', swinging himself from his horse, he strode up to one of the men, who sprang from his blanket, and ejaculated, "'bill lawson!' "'yea, mountain tom,' said ole bill, 'i'm here. you an' me have got a long reckonin' to settle now.' "the villain at first turned as pale as a skewer; but he seemed to regain his courage, and exclaimed, "'it won't take us long to settle up,' "and, quick as lightnin', he drew his knife, an' made a pass at bill. "but he had got the wrong buck by the horn. the ole man was as quick as he; an', grabbin' hold of his arm, he took the knife away from him as if he had been a baby. "'tom,' said he, as he drew his tomahawk from his belt, 'i've followed you all over this country for fifteen years, an', thank heaven, i've found you at last.' "'oh, bill,' shrieked the condemned man, sinkin' on his knees before the ole man, 'i was--' "'stand up,' said bill, ketchin' hold of him, an' jerkin' him to his feet. 'you were brave enough when you were killing my wounded father.' "'oh, bill--' "'with the tomahawk you killed my father, an' by the tomahawk you shall die.' "'for mercy's sake, bill,' again shrieked the terrified man, taking hold of a tree for support, 'hear me!' "the tomahawk descended like a streak of light, and the last of the murderers sank at the ole man's feet. the eighth notch was added to those on the knife, an' the debt was canceled." chapter xv. wild geese. about two o'clock in the afternoon the boys concluded that it was about time to start for home; so, after putting out the fire and fastening the door of the cabin, they set out. archie led the way, with a 'coon slung over each shoulder, and another dangling from his belt behind. the others followed close after him, in "indian file." in this manner they marched through the woods, joking and shouting, and talking over the events of the day, and now and then indulging in a hearty laugh when they happened to think how archie looked when he came into the camp, dripping wet. but archie took matters very good-naturedly, and replied, "if i had come back without the 'coon, i should never have heard the last of it; and now you laugh at me because i fell into the drink while i was trying to catch him." in half an hour they reached the edge of the timber, and were about to climb over the fence into the cornfield, when a long, loud bark echoed through the woods. "that's brave," exclaimed frank; "and," he continued, as all the dogs broke out into a continuous cry, "they've found something. let's go back." the boys all agreed to this, and they started back through the woods as fast as their legs could carry them. a few moments' run brought them in sight of the dogs, sitting on their haunches at the foot of a stump, that rose to the hight of twenty feet, without leaf or branch. near the top were several holes; and, as soon as frank discovered these, he exclaimed, "the dogs have got a squirrel in here." "how are we going to work to get him out?" inquired archie. "let's cut the stump down," said george. "that's too much sugar for a cent," answered harry. "that will be working too hard for one squirrel." "why will it?" asked george. "the stump is rotten." and he laid down his 'coon, and walked up and dealt the stump several lusty blows with his ax. suddenly two large black squirrels popped out of one of the holes near the top, and ran rapidly around the stump. quick as thought, frank, who was always ready, raised his gun to his shoulder, and one of the squirrels came tumbling to the ground; but, before he had time to fire the second barrel, the other ran back into the hole. "hit the tree again, george," exclaimed harry, throwing down his 'coon, and bringing his gun to his shoulder. "it's no use," said frank; "they will not come out again, if you pound on the stump all day." george, however, did as his brother had requested, but not a squirrel appeared. "let's cut the tree down," said archie. and, suiting the action to the word, he set manfully to work. a few blows brought off the outside "crust," and the heart of the tree was found to be decayed, and, in a few moments, it came crashing to the ground, and was shivered into fragments by the fall. the boys supposed that there was only one squirrel in the tree, and were running up to secure him, when, to their surprise, they discovered a number of the little animals scattering in different directions, and drawing "bee-lines" for the nearest trees. frank killed one with his remaining barrel, and harry, by an excellent shot, brought down another that had climbed up into the top of a tall oak, and was endeavoring to hide among the leaves. brave and sport both started after the same one, and overtook and killed it before it could reach a tree; but the grayhound came very near losing his. as soon as the stump had fallen, he singled out one of the squirrels, and, with two or three of his long bounds, overtook it; but, just as he was going to seize it, the squirrel dived into a pile of brush, out of the reach of the hound. a few loud, angry yelps brought archie and george to his assistance, and they immediately began to pull the pile of brush to pieces. suddenly the squirrel darted out, and started for a tree that stood about two rods distant. the boys threw their clubs at him, but he reached the foot of the tree unharmed. at this moment lightfoot discovered him; two or three bounds carried him to the tree, and, crouching a moment, he sprang into the air, and attempted to seize the squirrel. but he was just a moment too late; the little animal had ascended out of his reach; but the next moment the sharp report of harry's gun brought him to the ground. the squirrels were now all secured, and the young hunters again turned their faces homeward. one cold, stormy night, in the latter part of october, frank and his cousin lay snug in bed, listening to the howling of the wind and the pattering of the rain against the window, and talking over their plans for the future, when, all at once, frank sat upright in bed, and, seizing archie's arm with a grip that almost wrung from him a cry of pain, exclaimed, "listen! listen!" and the next moment, clear and loud above the noise of the storm, they heard the trumpet-like notes of a flock of wild geese. they passed over the house, and the sound grew fainter as they flew rapidly away. "my eye!" exclaimed archie, "don't i wish it was daylight, and we stood out in front of the house, with our guns all ready!" "that's a nice thing to wish for," answered frank; "but, if it were daylight, we should not stand any better chance of shooting them than we do here in bed." "what's the reason?" "why, in the first place, if they went over at all, they would fly so high that it would need a rifle to reach them; and, in the next place, we have not got a rifle. just wait until morning, and we'll make a scattering among them, if some one don't get the start of us." "i suppose we are not the only ones that have heard them." "not by a good deal. i shouldn't wonder if there were a dozen fellows that have made up their minds to have a crack at them in the morning." and frank was right. many a young hunter, as he lay in bed and heard the wild geese passing over, had determined to have the first shot at them, and many a gun was taken down, and cleaned and loaded, in readiness for the morning's hunt. wild geese seldom remained longer than two or three days about the village, and then they generally staid in the swamp. this made it difficult for the young hunters to get a shot at them, and only the most active and persevering ever succeeded. although for a month the young sportsmen had been expecting them, and had carefully scanned the river every morning, and listened for the welcome "honk-honk" that should announce the arrival of the wished-for game, this was the first flock that had made its appearance. "i am afraid," said archie, "that some one will get the start of us. let's get up." "no; lie still and go to sleep," said frank. "i am afraid we shall oversleep ourselves. i wonder what time it is." "i'll soon find out," said frank. and, bounding out on to the floor, he lighted a match, and held it up before the little clock that stood on the mantle-piece. "it's twelve o'clock," he continued. and he crawled back into bed, and in a few moments was almost asleep, when archie suddenly exclaimed, "they're coming back!" and the geese again passed over the house, in full cry. they knew it was the same flock, because they came from toward the river, and that was the same direction in which they had gone but a few moments before. in a short time they again returned; and, during the quarter of an hour that followed, they passed over three times more. "i wonder what is the matter with those geese," said archie, at length. "nothing," replied frank; "only they have got a little bewildered, and don't know which way to go." "where will we have to go to find them in the morning?" "up to the swamp," answered frank. "the last time they passed over they flew toward the north, and the swamp is the only place in that direction where they can go to find water, except duck lake, and that is too far for them to fly this stormy night." "i wish it was morning," said archie, again. "let's get up." "what's the use? it will be five long hours before it will be light enough to hunt them up; and we might as well go to sleep." "i'm afraid we shall sleep too long," said archie, again, "and that some one will beat us." "no fear of that," answered frank; "i'll wake you up at three o'clock." and he turned over and arranged his pillow, and in a few moments was fast asleep. but archie was so excited that he found it difficult even to lie still; and he lay awake almost two hours, thinking of the sport they should have in the morning, and at last dropped into an unquiet slumber. it seemed to him that he had hardly closed his eyes, when a strong hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice said, in his ear, "wake up here; it's three o'clock." he did not need a second call, but was out on the floor in an instant. it was still storming. the wind moaned and whistled through the branches of the trees around the cottage, and sent the big drops of rain rattling against the window. it was a wild time to go hunting, and some boys would have preferred tumbling back into bed again. but frank and his cousin had made up their minds that if any one got a shot at the geese, they were to be the ones. as soon as they were dressed, frank led the way into the kitchen, and, while he was lighting a fire, archie brought out of the pantry a pan of milk, two spoons and bowls, and a loaf of bread. he was so impatient to "get a crack at the geese," as he said, that, although he was very fond of bread and milk, he could scarcely eat at all. "i'm afraid some one will get the start of us," he exclaimed, noticing that his cousin, instead of being in a hurry, was taking matters very coolly. "what if they do?" answered frank, deliberately refilling his bowl from the pan. "we shall stand just as good a chance as they do. it will not be daylight these two hours. it's as dark as pitch, and all we can do is to go up to the swamp, and get under a tree, and wait until it is light enough to see where our geese are." as soon as they had finished their breakfast, they brought out their guns, and began to prepare for the hunt. extra charges were put in each barrel; and, while they were drawing on their rubber coats, archie said, "we had better leave my dogs at home, hadn't we? lightfoot would make too much noise, and sport, although he would keep still enough, would be of no use to us, for he will not go into the water after a wounded bird." "yes," said frank, "we had better leave them behind. but we must have brave with us. i'll go and call him." and he opened the door, and, walking out upon the piazza, which ran entirely around the cottage, gave a low whistle. there was a slight rustling among the straw in the kennel where the dogs slept, and brave came out, and followed his master into the house. after wrapping up their guns in their coats, they were ready to set out. half an hour's walk, through mud up to their ankles, brought them to uncle mike's house, which stood at the end of the road, and, climbing over the fence that inclosed his pasture, they struck off through the woods toward the lake. after picking their way for half a mile over fallen logs, and through wet, tangled bushes, frank, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped, and, leaning back against a tree to get out of the rain, said, "here we are. had we better try to cross the creek now, or shall we wait until daylight?" "you must have cat's eyes," said archie, trying to peer through the darkness. "i knew there was a creek here somewhere, but i didn't suppose we had reached it yet." "well, we have; and, unless i am very much mistaken, you will find the bridge right before you. shall we try to cross it now? it will be a slippery job." the "bridge" that frank referred to was simply a large tree that the boys had felled across the creek, and stripped of its branches. it could easily be crossed in the day-time, but in a dark, stormy night it was a difficult task to undertake. the boys could scarcely see their hands before them; and frank had accomplished something worth boasting of in being able to conduct his cousin directly to the bridge. "it will require the skill of a rope-dancer to cross that bridge now," said archie; "and, if we should happen to slip off into the water, we would be in a nice fix." "besides," said frank, "if we did succeed in crossing, we could not go far in the dark, on account of the swamp; so, i think, we had better wait." the boys stood under the tree, talking in low tones, when frank suddenly exclaimed, "we're all right. the geese are in the lake. do you hear that?" archie listened, and heard a splashing in the water, mingled with the hoarse notes of the gander. "i wish it was daylight," said he, impatiently. "don't be in a hurry," said frank; "there's time enough." "i'm afraid they will start off as soon as it gets light." "oh, no; the lake is a good feeding-ground, and they would stay, perhaps, all day, if they were not disturbed." in about an hour the day began to dawn; and, as soon as objects on the opposite side of the creek could be discerned, frank led the way across the bridge. a short run through the woods brought them to the swamp. now the hunt began in earnest. the swamp was covered with water, which, in some places, was two feet deep; and the trees and bushes grew so thick, that it was with difficulty that they could work their way through them. besides, they were obliged to proceed very carefully, for every step brought them nearer the game; and the slightest splashing in the water, or even the snapping of a twig, might alarm them. at length they found themselves on the shore of the lake; and, peering out from behind a thicket, where they had crept for concealment, they discovered, about half-way to the opposite shore, as fine a flock of geese as one would wish to see--fifteen of them in all. they were swimming around, turning their heads first one way and then the other, as if they had been alarmed. "it's a long shot, isn't it?" said archie, measuring the distance with his eye. "yes," answered his cousin; "but that is not the worst of it; they are getting further away from us every moment." "well," said archie, cocking his gun, and pushing it carefully through the bushes, "you be ready to take them as they rise." as he spoke he took a quick aim at the nearest of the flock, and pulled the trigger. the cap snapped. "plague on the gun!" he exclaimed. "shall i throw it in the lake!" "no, no," answered frank; "try the other barrel; and you had better be quick about it--they're going to fly." archie again raised his gun to his shoulder. this time there was no mistake. the nearest of the geese received the entire charge, and lay dead on the water. frank now waited for his turn; but the geese, after skimming along the surface of the water until they were out of gun-shot, rose in the air, and flew rapidly across the lake. as the boys stood watching their flight, they saw a cloud of smoke issue from a clump of bushes on the opposite shore, followed by the report of a gun, and one of the flock fell to the water, and another, evidently badly wounded, rose high in the air, and flew wildly about. another puff of smoke rose from the bushes, a second report was heard, and the wounded bird came tumbling into the lake. the geese, surprised at this sudden repulse, quickly wheeled, and flew back toward the place where our hunters were stationed. frank raised his gun to his shoulder, and, as soon as they came within range, he pulled the trigger, and brought down two geese--one stone-dead, and the other with a broken wing. hardly waiting to see the effect of the shot, he fired his second barrel at the flock, just as they were disappearing over the tops of the trees. they had flown so high, that he hardly expected the shot would prove effective. to his surprise, one of the flock gradually fell behind, and, after trying in vain to support itself, fell slowly through the air, until it almost reached the water; then it seemed to regain the power of using its wings, and began to fly more regularly. "try your gun again, archie," said frank; "i'm afraid we are going to lose him." archie accordingly drew a bead on the goose, but with no better success, and the bird speedily disappeared over the trees. "confound my luck!" exclaimed archie, impatiently. "i'll try and keep my powder dry after this." "he can't fly far," said frank. "let's be lively, and we will have him yet. here, brave!" he continued, pointing to the geese in the lake, "fetch 'em out!" brave plunged into the water, and made toward the nearest of the geese, which happened to be the one frank had wounded. as soon as the bird saw him approaching, instead of trying to save himself by flight, he raised himself in the water, elevated his uninjured wing, and set up a loud hiss. but these hostile demonstrations, instead of intimidating the newfoundlander, served rather to enrage him, and he kept on, with open mouth, ready to seize the game. the moment he came within reach, the goose thrust out his long neck, and, catching brave by the ear, dealt him a hard blow over the head with his wing. but he did not have time to repeat it, for the dog gave a loud, angry yelp, and, springing forward in the water, seized the goose, and killed it with a single bite; then, turning round, he swam back to the shore, deposited the game at his master's feet, and again plunged in to bring out the others. "i wonder who that is on the other side of the lake?" said archie. "i guess it's bill johnson," answered frank, who had reloaded his gun, and stood holding it in the hollow of his arm. "i saw a dog that looked very much like his bringing out the geese. there he is now!" and as he spoke the boy stepped out of the bushes, and a loud, shrill whistle echoed across the lake. "that's bill," said archie. "hallo!" he continued, raising his voice so that william could hear; "wait for us at uncle mike's--will you?" "all right," shouted william, in reply. and, gathering up his game, he again disappeared in the bushes. by this time brave had brought out the last of the geese, and archie had succeeded in shooting off the wet charge; so they started back toward the road. frank led the way, carrying three of the geese; brave followed close at his heels, carrying the fourth; and archie brought up the rear, loading his gun as he went. an hour's walk brought them to uncle mike's, where they found william sitting on the fence, waiting for them. "what luck?" inquired archie, as they came up. "only two," answered william; "but you have been more fortunate." "yes," said archie, "we've got four; and frank wounded another so badly that he can't fly far. we are going to look for him in the creek, as we go along." "and i hope we shall get him," said frank; "for he was the largest of the flock, and i want him for our museum." the boys walked slowly down the creek, keeping a good look-out for the wounded bird among the reeds along the bank; but they reached the cottage without seeing any signs of him. "i'm afraid we've lost him," said archie. "i'm sorry," said frank, "for he was a nice, big fellow. let's go back; perhaps we've overlooked him. i am certain that he could not have flown to the river." at this moment a slight splashing in the water, on the opposite side of the creek, attracted their attention, and they discovered their game swimming slowly about among the reeds, as if trying to find some place of concealment. "now, archie," said frank, dropping the butt of his gun to the ground, "there's a chance for you to retrieve your lost reputation." "and i'll take advantage of it," said archie, raising his gun to his shoulder. a loud report followed his words, and the goose, after a few slight struggles, lay motionless on the water. brave immediately sprang into the creek, and, forcing his way among the reeds, seized the bird and brought it to the shore. chapter xvi. chapter of incidents. the next day had been set apart by frank and his cousin for a squirrel-hunt; but the first thing they heard, when they awoke in the morning, was the pattering of the rain against their bedroom window, and the hunt was, to use archie's expression, "up stump." although they had been expecting exciting times, bringing down the squirrels (for the woods were fairly alive with them), and were a good deal disappointed at being obliged to postpone their intended excursion, they were not the ones to complain, they knew there would be many pleasant days before the winter set in, and the hunt was put off without ceremony. they were at no loss to know how to pass the day. there was plenty of work to be done: their traps must be overhauled and put in working order; the speedwell was waiting to be dismasted and put cover; their fishing-tackle must be oiled and packed away, their pets taken care of and provided with winter-quarters; and there was a host of other things to attend to; and they were in no fear that the time would hang heavily on their hands. as soon as the boys were dressed, they went into the shop and set manfully to work. archie kindled a fire in the stove--for it was a cold, unpleasant day--and frank pulled from under the work-bench a large chest, filled with spring-traps, "dead-falls," broken reels, scraps of lead, and numberless other things he had collected, and began to pull over the contents. the traps were taken out and subjected to a thorough rubbing and greasing. while thus engaged, their attention was attracted by the peculiar "cawing" of a crow that flew over the shop, and, a moment afterward, a whole chorus of the harsh notes sounded in the direction of the woods. the boys hurried to the door, and saw a multitude of crows pouring from every part of the woods, cawing with all their might, and directing their course toward a large pine-tree, which stood in the meadow back of the orchard, and which was already covered with them. "what's the matter?" inquired archie. "they act as if they had discovered an owl," answered frank. "have they? let's go and shoot him." "that will, probably, be a harder job than you anticipate," said frank. "however, we will try." after shutting the dogs up in the shop, the boys ran into the house, drew on their rubber coats, and started through the orchard, loading their guns as they went--putting an extra charge of powder and a couple of buck-shot into each barrel. in a few moments they reached the fence that ran between the orchard and the meadow, and archie inquired, "what shall we do now?" "we can't go much further," said frank, drawing a flap of his coat over his gun, to protect it from the rain. "there isn't a stump, or even a tuft of grass, in the meadow large enough to cover us. besides, if we undertake to climb over the fence, every crow will be out of sight in a moment; then good-by, owl." "he wouldn't fly off, would he?" "i should say he would," answered frank, with a laugh. "he'd leave like a streak of lightning." "that's news to me. i always thought owls couldn't see in the day-time. natural history says so." "i know it," said frank. "but there is one thing certain: they must be able to see a little, or else their sense of smell or hearing is very acute for it is very difficult to get a shot at them, even in the day-time. that one in our museum led me a chase of half a day before i shot him, and i had a rifle, too." "what is to be done now?" inquired archie. "we don't want to stand here in the rain much longer." "we must wait until he flies into the woods, or somewhere else, so that we can get a shot at him." "i can make him fly. i've killed squirrels further off than that, many a time. suppose i shoot at him?" "shoot away; but you must remember that an owl and a squirrel are two different things. the thick feathers of the owl will glance a charge of shot that would blow a squirrel to pieces." archie made no reply, but crawled up behind a thick cluster of currant-bushes that grew close by the fence, and, thrusting his gun between the branches, was settling himself into a comfortable position, when the owl suddenly leaped from his perch, and flew off toward the woods, as frank had said he would, "like a streak of lightning," followed by the whole flock of his tormentors, which screamed with all their might. "now's our time," said frank. "come on!" and, clearing the fence at a bound, he started across the meadow at the top of his speed. archie followed close at his heels, and a few minutes run brought them to the edge of the woods. "now the hunt begins in earnest," said frank, "we must separate; we shall make too much noise if we go together." "where's the owl?" inquired archie. "as near as i can guess, he must be in that tall hemlock," answered frank, pointing through the woods toward the tree in question. archie immediately moved cautiously off in the direction indicated, leaving his cousin to take care if himself. guided by the noise made by the crows, he soon discovered the owl, not where frank had supposed him to be, but on a tree that stood to the right, and several rods further off. placing a large tree between himself and the game, he threw himself on his hands and knees, and crawled along as silently as possible, taking good care to keep out of sight of the crows. he had arrived almost within range of the owl, when he found before him a spot of considerable extent, which was entirely destitute of bushes or large trees, and covered only with saplings, which grew so thinly that he would certainly be discovered if he attempted to pass through them. this brought him to a stand-still. he stood thinking whether he had better risk a shot at the owl or retrace his steps, when one of the crews uttered a cry of warning, which was immediately answered by the others, and the whole flock was out of sight in an instant. the owl gazed around a moment with his great eyes, then spread his wings, leaped into the air, and was flying rapidly away, when there was a sharp report, and he came tumbling to the ground, and the indefatigable frank rose from the bushes, and ran forward to secure his prize. "dished again!" said archie, to himself. "i would have wagered a good deal that frank was not within gun-shot." "i say, archie, where are you?" called out frank. "here i am. i thought, sure, that owl was mine." and archie came forward, holding his gun in the hollow of his arm, and looking a little crest-fallen. "you were not far behind," said frank, laughing. "that's poor consolation. i wanted to be first. never mind," he added, catching up the owl, and throwing it over his shoulder, "i'll be ahead of you yet." this generous rivalry had existed between the cousins from their earliest boyhood. in all athletic sports--such as running, ball-playing, swimming, and the like--archie was acknowledged to be the superior; but in hunting frank generally carried off the palm. archie, however, perseveringly kept up the contest, and endeavored to accomplish, by bold and rapid movements, what his cousin gained by strategy; and, although he sometimes bore off the prize, he more frequently succeeded in "knocking every thing in the head" by what the boys called his "carelessness." this was the source of a great deal of merriment between the cousins; and, although they sometimes felt a little mortified at their defeat (as did archie now), they ever afterward spoke of it as a "good joke." after breakfast the boys went into the shop again, and frank sharpened his knife, and began to remove the skin of the owl, intending to stuff it and place it in the museum, while archie took his ax and started for a grove of willows, that grew on the banks of the creek, to get some timber to make a dead-fall trap. he had been gone scarcely a moment before he returned in a great hurry, and, throwing down his ax, seized his gun, which stood in the corner behind the door, exclaiming, "now i've got a chance to make up for losing that owl. a flock of ducks, regular canvas-backs, have just flown over, and i think they lit in the swamp. you'll have to make tracks to get the start of me this time." and he shouldered his gun, and ran out of the shop, banging the door after him. frank immediately dropped the owl, caught up his gun, and started in hot pursuit. but his cousin had made the most of his time, and, when frank reached the gate, he saw archie far up the road, tearing along as fast as his legs could carry him, and spattering the mud in every direction. under any other circumstances, frank would have stopped to laugh; but, as it was, he had no time to lose. so he ran down the bank of the creek, and, untying his skiff, pushed out into the stream, and a few strokes of the oars brought him to the opposite shore; then, fastening the skiff to a tree, he started through the woods, toward the swamp. this enabled him to gain on his cousin almost half a mile. but archie happened to have luck on his side this time; for the ducks, instead of alighting in the swamp, as he had supposed, had come down in the creek; and, as he was hurrying along the road, which ran close to the creek, a slight splashing in the water and a hoarse "quack" attracted his attention, and caused him to proceed with more caution. he listened until the noise was repeated, in order that he might know exactly where the ducks were, and then began to worm his way through the wet bushes, in the direction of the sound. at length he crawled up behind a large log, that lay close to the water's edge, and had the satisfaction of finding the game fairly before him. but the most difficult part of the undertaking was yet to come. the ducks--seven of them in all--were fully twenty rods off; and, although archie had great confidence in the "shooting qualities" of his gun, he hardly dared to fire--he might only wound the birds; and, as he had no ammunition with him besides the loads in his gun, he was anxious to make every shot tell. "this won't do," he soliloquized. "i must get up nearer." he was about to retrace his steps, when he noticed that the ducks began to move impatiently around, and acted as if about to fly. in an instant archie's mind was made up; it was now or never; and, taking a quick aim at the nearest of the flock, he blazed away. it was his only chance, and a slim one at that, for the distance was so great that he hardly expected the shot would take effect; but, when the smoke cleared away, he discovered one of the flock lying motionless on the water, and another, too badly wounded to rise, was swimming slowly around him. the rest of the flock were skimming along the surface of the creek, toward the swamp. they were far beyond the range of his gun, and he knew it would do no good to fire at them; so he concluded, to use his own expression, to "make sure of what he had got," and, taking aim at the wounded bird, was about to give it the contents of the other barrel, when he heard the report of a gun some distance further up the creek, and looked up just in time to see one of the birds fall into the water. "who's that, i wonder," said archie, to himself. "it can't be frank, for he wouldn't be on that side of the creek; besides, i had a good long start of him." his soliloquy was cut short by the movements of the flock, which, instead of continuing on their course up the creek, rose higher in the air, and flew about in confusion. this opportunity was not lost by the concealed sportsman, and a second bird came down with a broken wing. the ducks then wheeled and flew back toward the place where archie was stationed. as soon as they came within range, he fired and brought down another bird, which landed among the bushes on the opposite side of the creek. he now turned his attention to the wounded duck, which was swimming in a circle around his dead companion, as if perfectly bewildered. "i wish i had my powder-flask and shot-bag," said archie. "how foolish i was not to bring them! i bet that i'll never start out again with only one load in my gun." but there was no time for regrets. the duck seemed to be recovering his strength, and began co flap his wings, as if preparing to fly. archie began to fear that he should lose him; and, throw down his gun, he gathered up an armful of sticks and branches, and straightway opened fire on the bird. the duck dodged the missiles like a flash, and every now and then renewed his attempts to fly; but, at length, a heavy piece of root struck him, and stretched him out lifeless on the water. "ha! ha! ha!" laughed a strong, cheery voice. "that's what i call shooting ducks under difficulties." archie looked up and saw his cousin standing on the opposite side of the creek, with his gun on one shoulder and two of the flock slung over the other. "i came very near getting the start of you, after all--didn't i?" continued frank. "was that you shooting up there?" inquired archie. "yes; i had almost reached the swamp, when i happened to think that perhaps the ducks might be in the creek, so i turned back." "a lucky circumstance for you. but i beat you, after all. i've got three ducks." "where are they? i don't see but two." "the other is over there in the bushes, somewhere." frank immediately commenced looking for it, and archie procured a long branch, and waded out as far as possible into the creek, and, after considerable exertion and a thorough wetting, succeeded in pulling both of his ducks to the shore. during the three weeks that followed, the boys passed the time in various ways--sometimes hunting in the woods or on the river, but more frequently working in the shop. they also spent considerable time in attending to their pets. the young otter proved to be the most interesting little animal they had ever seen. he grew quite tame, and when the boys entered the room where he was kept, he would come toward them, uttering a faint whine, and, if they seated themselves, he would jump up into their laps, and search through their pockets for something to eat--such as bread or crackers, of which the boys always took especial care to have a good supply. at length they began to long for winter, and many were the speculations as to when the "first fell of snow" would come. their traps were all in order, and they were impatient for an opportunity to make use of them. besides, they had agreed with george and harry to "go fox-hunting the very first time there was snow enough for tracking." a week more passed, and thanksgiving day came; and in the evening frank and his cousin went down to visit george and harry, intending, as they said, to "stay only a few minutes." but mr. butler soon came in, and began to relate some of his "sailor yarns," as he called them (for he was a retired sea-captain), and the boys became so interested in listening to them, that they did not notice how rapidly the time flew by, and it was ten o'clock before they knew it. they then bade the captain "good-night." george and harry, as usual, agreed to accompany them part of the way, and, when they reached the door, what was their surprise to find the ground white with snow, and the air filled with the rapidly-falling flakes. "we'll have that fox-hunt to-morrow," exclaimed harry, in delight. "of course we will," said archie, "and i wouldn't take ten dollars for my chance of catching one." "you mean, if the snow doesn't melt," said frank, quietly. "oh, that's always the way with you," said archie. "what makes you try to throw cold water on all our expectations, in that way?" "i didn't intend to," answered frank, with a laugh; "but, you know, we have been disappointed very often." "yes," said george, "but i guess we are all right this time. it snows pretty fast, and the air doesn't feel like a thaw or rain." frank acknowledged this; and they walked along, talking about the exciting times they expected to have on the morrow, until they reached the "big elm"--a large tree that stood leaning over the creek, just half-way between captain butler's and where frank lived. here george and harry stopped, and, after promising to be at the cottage early on the following morning, turned their faces homeward. chapter xvii. the grayhound outgeneraled. the next morning, at an early hour, george and harry arrived at the cottage, and, after a light and hastily-eaten breakfast, they set out. frank and harry were armed, as usual, with their guns, while the others carried axes. they crossed the meadow at the back of the orchard, passed through the cornfield which had been the scene of the 'coon-hunt, a few weeks before, and struck out through the woods. the dogs were then sent out ahead, and they had not gone more than half a mile, when sport uttered a long, loud howl, and, when the boys came up with him, he was running impatiently about with his nose close to the ground. "a fox has been along here," said frank, bending over and examining a track in the snow, "and the trail looks fresh." "hunt 'em up! hunt 'em up!" shouted archie, excitedly, waving his hand to the dogs. sport bounded off on the track like a shot, and lightfoot followed close after. brave barked and howled furiously, and acted as if he wished very much to accompany them; but the swift hounds would have distanced him in a moment. it must not be supposed that it was the intention of the boys to follow up the hounds--that would have been worse than useless. perhaps the chase would continue for several hours. they had once hunted a fox all day, without coming in sight of him. reynard has ways and habits of his own, which a person who has had experience in hunting him understands. he always runs with the wind, and generally follows a ridge. the hunters take advantage of this, and "run cross-lots" to meet him, sometimes gaining on him several miles in this manner. the moment the hounds had disappeared on the trail, frank--who knew all the "run-ways" of the game like a book--led the way through the woods toward a ridge that lay about a mile distant, where they expected the fox would pass. a quarter of an hour's run brought them to this ridge, and they began to conceal themselves behind trees and bushes, when archie suddenly exclaimed, "we're dished, boys. the fox has already passed." "come on, then," said frank. "no time to lose. we must try again." and he again led the way, on a keen run, through a strip of woods, across a wide meadow toward another ridge, that lay fully three miles distant. at length the baying of the hounds echoed through the woods, far below them. louder and louder it grew, and, in a few moments, they swept up the ridge in full cry. the boys hurried on as rapidly as possible, and reached the ridge in about an hour. although they were accustomed to such sport, they were pretty well tired out. they had run the greater part of the way through thick woods, filled with fallen logs and tangled bushes; but they now felt confident that the hunt was nearly over. they knew they had gained considerably on the fox, and his capture would be an ample reward for their trouble. as soon as they reached the ridge, they threw themselves rapidly across it in all directions, and, to their delight, discovered that the fox had not yet passed. they stationed themselves in such a manner that it would be impossible for him to pass on either side of them without coming within reach of their guns, and patiently awaited his appearance. they had not remained long in this position, when archie, who was stationed lowest down the ridge, exclaimed in a subdued voice, "there they come, boys! now, look sharp!" the boys listened intently, and heard, faint and far off, the well-known bay of sport. it was sharp and short--very different from the note he had uttered when the chase first commenced. louder and louder grew the noise, as the hounds came rapidly up the ridge toward the place where the boys were stationed, and every one was on the alert, expecting every moment to see the fox break cover. suddenly a loud howl blended with sport's baying, and the hounds seemed to turn and sweep down the valley. "the fox has left the ridge, boys," said frank. "then we're dished again," exclaimed archie. "perhaps not," continued frank. "he will have to go across the meadow, and will run the risk of being caught by lightfoot. we must try and cut him off." and he led the way down the ridge, in the direction the chase was tending. in a few moments the hounds broke out into a continuous cry, and, when the boys emerged from the woods, they saw them standing at the foot of a tall stump, which stood near the middle of the meadow. brave immediately ran to join them, and harry exclaimed, "i'd like to know what those dogs are doing there?" "why, they've got the fox treed," said frank. "a fox treed!" repeated harry, with a laugh, "whoever heard of such a thing?" "i have often read," answered frank, "that when a fox is hard pressed, and finds himself unable to escape, he will take advantage of any place of concealment he can find." while this conversation was going on, the boys had been running toward the stump, and, when they reached it, they found brave with his head buried in a hole near the ground, now and then giving his tail a jerk, but otherwise remaining as motionless as a statue. "what do you think now of the possibility of seeing a fox?" inquired frank, turning to harry. "i don't believe it yet," said the latter. "then how is it that the dogs are here?" "the fox may have run down here and doubled on his trail, and thus thrown the dogs off the scent." "he didn't have time to do that," said archie, who had divested himself of his coat, and stood with his ax, ready to cut down the stump. "he's in here, i'm certain. see how brave acts." "it will not take long to find out," said george, who was a good deal of his brother's opinion that the fox was not in the tree. and he and archie set to work, with the intention of cutting it down. but it was found to be hollow; and, after taking out a few chips, archie stooped down to take a survey of the interior, and spied the fox crouched in the darkest corner. "hand me your gun, frank," said he; "i'll shoot him." "i wouldn't shoot him," said frank. "it is a good time to try lightfoot's speed. let's get the fox out, and give him a fair start, and if he gets away from the hound, he is entitled to his life." the boys readily agreed to this proposal--not out of any desire to give the fox a chance for his liberty, but in order to witness a fair trial of the grayhound's speed, and to enjoy the excitement of the race. george and harry provided themselves with long poles, with which to "poke" the fox out of his refuge. brave and sport were unceremoniously conducted away from the tree, and ordered to "lie down;" and frank took hold of the grayhound, intending to restrain him until the fox could get a fair start. "all ready now," said archie. "keep a good look-out, frank, and let the hound go the instant the fox comes out. you know, lightfoot is young yet, and it won't do to give the game too long a start." "all right," answered frank. and he tightened his grasp on the strong, impatient animal, which struggled desperately to free himself, while george and harry began the work of "poking out the fox." they thrust their poles into the holes they had cut in the roots of the stump, and the next moment out popped the fox, and started toward the woods like a streak of light. the meadow was about a mile and a half square, and was laid off in "dead furrows"--deep ditches, which are dug, about four rods apart, to drain off the water. the fox took to the bank of one of these furrows, and followed it at a rate of speed which the boys had never seen equaled. the moment lightfoot discovered him, he raised himself on his hind-legs, and struggled and fought furiously. but frank would not release him in that position, for fear the hound would "throw" himself; and he commenced striking him on the head, to compel him, if possible, to place his fore-feet on the ground, but all to no purpose. during the struggle, short as it was, the fox had gained nearly thirty rods. archie was not slow to notice this, and he shouted to his cousin, "let him go! let him go! the fox has too long a start already." frank accordingly released the hound, which made an enormous bound, and, as frank had expected, he landed, all in a heap, in one of the dead furrows, and, before he could recover himself, the fox had gained two or three rods more. but when the hound was fairly started, his speed was astonishing. he settled down nobly to his work, and moved over the ground as lightly as if he had been furnished with wings. had he been a well-trained dog, the boys would have felt no concern whatever as to the issue of the race; but, as it was, they looked upon the escape of the fox as a very probable thing. the fox was still following the dead furrow, and lightfoot, instead of pursuing directly after him, as he ought to have done, took to another furrow which ran parallel to the one the fox was following, and about four rods from it. the fox had a good start, but the enormous bounds of the greyhound rapidly lessened the distance between them; he gained at every step, and finally overtook him, and the two animals were running side by side, and only four rods apart. suddenly the cunning fox turned, and started off exactly at right angles with the course he had been following. the gray hound, of course, had not been expecting this, and he made a dozen of his long bounds before he could turn himself. during this time the fox gained several rods. as before, the hound pursued a course parallel with that of the fox, instead of following directly after him. in a few moments they were again running side by side, but this time further apart than before. again and again the fox turned, each time nearing the woods, and gaining considerably; and finally, reaching the end of the meadow, he cleared the fence at a bound, and disappeared in the bushes. "now, that's provoking!" exclaimed archie. "never mind," answered frank. "i don't think the fox can go much further. he must be pretty well tired out, judging by the way he ran. here, sport!" he continued, "hunt 'em up!" sport was off like a shot, and the boys followed after as fast as their legs could carry them. when they reached the woods, they found lightfoot beating about in the bushes, as if he expected to find the fox concealed among them. sport was standing over the trail of the fox, as motionless as if he had been turned into stone. "hunt 'em up!" shouted frank, again--"hunt 'em up." the hound uttered a loud bark, and instantly set off on the trail, and lightfoot, as before, followed close at his heels. "now," exclaimed frank, "we must change our tactics." "yes," said harry. "a little further on, the ridge branches off, and there is no knowing which one the fox will follow. come, george, we will go this way." and he turned and ran down into the meadow again. "run like blazes, now!" shouted frank. and, suiting the action to the word, he turned off in the opposite direction, and led the way through the woods at a rate which made archie wonder. they ran along in "indian file"--brave bringing up the rear--for almost two miles, through the thickest part of the woods, when they again found themselves on the ridge. after ascertaining that the fox had not yet passed, they took their stations. "i would really like to know which way that fox went," said archie, panting hard after his long run. "i am almost certain that he took to the other ridge," answered frank. "i think we should have heard the hound before this time, if he had turned this way." they remained in their places of concealment for almost an hour, without hearing any sounds of the chase, and frank said, "we might as well start for home." "dished again, are we?" said archie, in a deprecating tone. "that's too bad! well," he continued, "we can't always be the fortunate ones, but i wish i could have had the pleasure of shooting that fox. but which way do we go to get home?" "we must go exactly south," said frank. "which way is that?" "i will soon tell you." and frank drew a small compass from his pocket, and, in a moment, continued, "this is the way. come on!" and he turned his face, as archie thought, directly _from_ home, and struck boldly out. their long run had taxed their endurance to the utmost. if they had "been in practice," they would have looked upon it as merely a "little tramp;" for, during the previous winter, they had often followed a fox all day without experiencing any serious inconvenience; but, as this was the first exercise of the kind they had had for almost a year, they felt the effects of it pretty severely. archie, who had lived in the city during the summer, was "completely used up," as he expressed it; and his cousin was weary and footsore; and it seemed as though neither of them had sufficient strength left to take another step. they kept on, hour after hour, however, without once stopping to rest; and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they climbed over the fence that inclosed uncle mike's pasture, and came in sight of the cottage. george and harry were sitting on the piazza, and, as soon as they came within speaking distance, the latter held up the fox, exclaiming, "we were lucky, for once in our lives." "if we had been five minutes later, we should have lost him," said george, as frank and his cousin came up to where the brothers were sitting. "we reached the ridge just in the 'nick of time,' the fox was just passing, and harry brought him down by a chance shot. here, frank," he continued, "you take the fox; we have no use for him." frank thanked him; and the boys then went into the house, and, after dinner, the brothers started for home. frank and his cousin went into the study, and the former selected his favorite book from his library, and settled himself in an easy-chair before the fire; while archie stretched himself on the bed, and was fast asleep in a moment. and here, reader, we will leave them reposing after their long run; but we hope soon to introduce them again in works entitled, "frank in the woods," and "frank on the prairie." the end. our friend john burroughs by clara barrus (illustration of john burroughs. from a photograph by theona peck harris) contents our friend john burroughs the retreat of a poet-naturalist autobiographical sketches ancestry and family life childhood and youth self-analysis the early writings of john burroughs a winter day at slabsides back to pepacton campinging with burroughs and muir john burroughs: an appreciation our friend john burroughs we all claim john burroughs as our friend. he is inextricably blended with our love for the birds and the flowers, and for all out of doors; but he is much more to us than a charming writer of books about nature, and we welcome familiar glimpses of him as one welcomes anything which brings him in closer touch with a friend. a clever essayist, in speaking of the "obituary method of appreciation," says that we feel a slight sense of impropriety and insecurity in contemporary plaudits. "wait till he is well dead, and four or five decades of daisies have bloomed over him, says the world; then, if there is any virtue in his works, we will tag and label them and confer immortality upon him." but mr. burroughs has not had to wait till the daisies cover him to be appreciated. a multitude of his readers has sought him out and walked amid the daisies with him, listened with him to the birds, and gained countless delightful associations with all these things through this personal relation with the author; and these friends in particular will, i trust, welcome some "contemporary plaudits." as a man, and as a writer, mr. burroughs has been in the public eye for many years. at the age of twenty-three he had an article printed in the "atlantic monthly," and in that journal celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of his contributions to its columns. early in his career he received marked recognition from able critics, and gratifying responses from readers. it is rare in the history of an author that his books after fifty years of writing have the freshness, lucidity, and charm that mr. burroughs's later books have. a critic in speaks of his "quiet, believing style, free from passion or the glitter of rhetoric, and giving one the sense of simple eyesight"; and now, concerning one of his later books, "time and change," mr. brander matthews writes: "in these pellucid pages--so easy to read because they are the result of hard thinking--he brings home to us what is the real meaning of the discoveries and the theories of the scientists.... he brings to bear his searching scientific curiosity and his sympathetic interpreting imagination.... all of them models of the essay at its best--easy, unpedantic, and unfailingly interesting." from school-children all over the united states, from nearly every civilized country on the globe, from homes of the humble and of the wealthy, from the scholar in his study, from the clergyman, the lawyer, the physician, the business man, the farmer, the raftsman, the sportsman, from the invalid shut in from the great outdoors (but, thanks to our friend, not shut _out_ from outdoor blessings), have come for many years heartfelt letters attesting the wholesome and widespread influence of his works. president roosevelt a few years ago, in dedicating one of his books to "dear oom john," voiced the popular feeling: "it is a good thing for our people that you have lived, and surely no man can wish to have more said of him." some years ago, the new york "globe," on announcing a new book by mr. burroughs, said, "it has been the lot of few writers of this country or of any country to gain such good will and personal esteem as for many years have been freely given to john burroughs." if we ask why this is so, we find it answered by whitman, who, in conversation with a friend, said, "john is one of the true hearts--one of the true hearts--warm, sure, firm." mr. burroughs has been much visited, much "appreciated," much rhymed about, much painted, modeled, and photographed, and--much loved. because he has been so much loved, and because his influence has been so far-reaching, it has seemed to me that a book which gives familiar and intimate glimpses of him will be welcomed by the legion who call him friend. the exceptional opportunities i have enjoyed for many years past of observing him encourage me in the undertaking. the readers of mr. burroughs crave the personal relation with him. just as they want to own his books, instead of merely taking them from the public libraries, so they want to meet the man, take him by the hand, look into his eyes, hear his voice, and learn, if possible, what it is that has given him his unfailing joy in life, his serenity, his comprehensive and loving insight into the life of the universe. they feel, too, a sense of deep gratitude to one who has shown them how divine is the soil under foot--veritable star-dust from the gardens of the eternal. he has made us feel at one with the whole cosmos, not only with bird and tree, and rock and flower, but also with the elemental forces, the powers which are friendly or unfriendly according as we put ourselves in right or wrong relations with them. he has shown us the divine in the common and the near at hand; that heaven lies about us here in this world; that the glorious and the miraculous are not to be sought afar off, but are here and now; and that love of the earth-mother is, in the truest sense, love of the divine: "the babe in the womb is not nearer its mother than are we to the invisible, sustaining, mothering powers of the universe, and to its spiritual entities, every moment of our lives." one who speaks thus of the things of such import to every human soul is bound to win responses; he deals with things that come home to us all. we want to know him. although retiring in habit, naturally seeking seclusion, mr. burroughs is not allowed overindulgence in this tendency. one may with truth describe him as a contemporary described edward fitzgerald--"an eccentric man of genius who took more pains to avoid fame than others do to seek it." and yet he is no recluse. when disciples seek out the hermit in hiding behind the vines at slabsides, they find a genial welcome, a simple, homely hospitality; find that the author merits the indian name given him by a clever friend--"man-not-afraid-of-company." the simplicity and gentleness of this author and his strong interest in people endear him to the reader; we feel these qualities in his writings long before meeting him--a certain urbanity, a tolerant insight and sympathy, and a quiet humor. these draw us to him. perhaps after cherishing his writings for years, cherishing also a confident feeling that we shall know him some day, we obey a sudden impulse, write to him about a bird or a flower, ask help concerning a puzzling natural-history question, tell him what a solace "waiting" is, what a joy his books have been; possibly we write some verses to him, or express appreciation for an essay that has enlarged our vision and opened up a new world of thought. perhaps we go to see him at slabsides, or in the catskills, as the case may be; perhaps in some unexpected way he comes to us--stops in the same town where we live, visits the college where we are studying, or we encounter him in our travels. in whatever way the personal relation comes about, we, one and all, share this feeling: he is no longer merely the favorite author, he is _our friend_ john burroughs. i question whether there is any other modern writer so approachable, or one we so desire to approach. he has so written himself into his books that we know him before meeting him; we are charmed with his directness and genuineness, and eager to claim the companionship his pages seem to offer. because of his own unaffected self, our artificialities drop away when we are with him; we want to be and say and do the genuine, simple thing; to be our best selves; and one who brings out this in us is sure to win our love. (illustration of slabsides. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) mr. burroughs seems to have much in common with edward fitzgerald; we may say of him as has been said of the translator of the "rubaiyat": "perhaps some worship is given him... on account of his own refusal of worship for things unworthy, or even for things merely conventional." like fitzgerald, too, our friend is a lover of solitude; like him he shuns cities, gets his exhilaration from the common life about him; is inactive, easy-going, a loiterer and saunterer through life; and could say of himself as fitzgerald said, on describing his own uneventful days in the country: "such is life, and i believe i have got hold of a good end of it." another point of resemblance: the american dreamer is like his english brother in his extreme sensitiveness--he cannot bear to inflict or experience pain. "i lack the heroic fibre," he is wont to say. fitzgerald acknowledged this also, and, commenting on his own over-sensitiveness and tendency to melancholy, said, "it is well if the sensibility that makes us fearful of ourselves is diverted to become a case of sympathy and interest with nature and mankind." that this sensibility in mr. burroughs has been so diverted, all who are familiar with his widespread influence on our national life and literature will agree. in a bright descriptive article written a few years ago, miss isabel moore dispels some preconceived and erroneous notions about mr. burroughs, and shows him as he is--a man keenly alive to the human nature and life around him. "the boys and girls buzzed about him," she says, "as bees about some peculiarly delectable blossom. he walked with them, talked with them, entranced them... the most absolutely human person i have ever met--a born comrade, if there ever was one; in daily life a delightful acquaintance as well as a philosopher and poet and naturalist, and a few other things." she describes him riding with a lot of young people on a billowy load of hay; going to a ball-game, at which no boy there enjoyed the contest more, or was better informed as to the points of the game. "verily," she says, "he has what bjornson called 'the child in the heart.'" it is the "child in the heart," and, in a way, the "child" in his books, that accounts for his wide appeal. he often says he can never think of his books as _works_, because so much play went into the making of them. he has gone out of doors in a holiday spirit, has had a good time, has never lost the boy's relish for his outings, and has been so blessed with the gift of expression that his own delight is communicated to his reader. and always it is the man behind the book that makes the widest appeal. in , a western architect, in correspondence with the writer concerning recent essays of mr. burroughs, said:-- i have had much pleasure and soul-help in reading and re-reading "the summit of the years." in this, and in "all's well with the world," is mirrored the very soul of the gentlest, the most lovable man-character i have ever come across in literature or life....to me all his books, from "wake-robin" to "time and change," radiate the most joyous optimism.... during the past month i have devoted my evenings to re-reading (them).... he has always meant a great deal more to me than merely intellectual pleasure, and, next to walt whitman, has helped me to keep my life as nearly open to the influences of outdoors and the stars as may be in a dweller in a large town. as i write, a letter comes from a kansas youth, now a graduate student at yale, expressing the hope that he can see mr. burroughs at slabsides in april: "there is nothing i want to say--but for a while i would like to be near him. he is my great good teacher and friend.... as you know, he is more to me than harvard or yale. he is the biggest, simplest, and serenest man i have met in all the east." i suppose there is no literary landmark in america that has had a more far-reaching influence than slabsides. flocks of youths and maidens from many schools and colleges have, for the past fifteen years, climbed the hill to the rustic cabin in all the gayety and enthusiasm of their young lives. but they have seen more than the picturesque retreat of a living author; they have received a salutary impression made by the unostentatious life of a man who has made a profound impression on his day who has made a profound impression on his day and age; they have gone their separate ways with an awakened sense of the comradeship it is possible to have with nature, and with an ennobling affection for the one who has made them aware of it. and this affection goes with them to whatever place on the globe their destinies carry them. it is transmitted to their children; it becomes a very real part of their lives. "my dear john burroughs--everybody's dear john burroughs," a friend writes him from london, recounting her amusing experiences in the study of english birds. and it is "everybody's dear john burroughs" who stands in the wide doorway at slabsides and gives his callers a quiet, cordial welcome. and when the day is ended, and the visitor goes his way down the hill, he carries in his heart a new treasure--the surety that he has found a comrade. having had the privilege for the past twelve years of helping mr. burroughs with his correspondence, i have been particularly interested in the spontaneous responses which have come to him from his young readers, not only in america, but from europe, new zealand, australia. confident of his interest, they are boon companions from the start. they describe their own environment, give glimpses of the wild life about them, come to him with their natural-history difficulties; in short, write as to a friend of whose tolerant sympathy they feel assured. in fact, this is true of all his correspondents. they get on easy footing at once. they send him birds, flowers, and insects to identify; sometimes live animals and birds--skylarks have been sent from england, which he liberated on the hudson, hoping to persuade them to become acclimated; "st. john's bread," or locust pods, have come to him from the holy. land; pressed flowers and ferns from the himalayas, from africa, from haleakala. many correspondents are considerate enough not to ask for an answer, realizing the countless demands of this nature made upon a man like mr. burroughs; others boldly ask, not only for a reply, but for a photograph, an autograph, his favorite poem written in his own hand, a list of favorite books, his views on capital punishment, on universal peace, on immortality; some naively ask for a sketch of his life, or a character sketch of his wife with details of their home life, and how they spend their time; a few modestly hope he will write a poem to them personally, all for their very own. a man of forty-five is tired of the hardware business, lives in the country, sees mr. burroughs's essays in the "country calendar," and asks him to "learn" him to "rite for the press." some readers take him to task for his opinions, some point out errors, or too sweeping statements (for he does sometimes make them); occasionally one suggests other topics for him to write about; others labor to bring him back into orthodox paths; hundreds write of what a comfort "waiting" has been; and there are countless requests for permission to visit slabsides, as well as invitations to the homes of his readers. many send him verses, a few the manuscripts of entire books, asking for criticism. (and when he does give criticism, he gives it "unsweetened," being too honest to praise a thing unless in his eyes it merits praise.) numerous are the requests that he write introductions to books; that he address certain women's clubs; that he visit a school, or a nature-study club, or go from dan to beersheba to hold burroughs days--each writer, as a rule, urging his claim as something very special, to which a deaf ear should not be turned. not all his correspondents are as considerate as the little girl who was especially eager to learn his attitude toward snakes, and who, after writing a pretty letter, ended thus: "inclosed you will find a stamp, for i know it must be fearfully expensive and inconvenient to be a celebrity." occasionally he is a little severe with a correspondent, especially if one makes a preposterous statement, or draws absurd conclusions from faulty observations. but he is always fair. the following letter explains itself:-- your first note concerning my cat and hog story made me as mad as a hornet, which my reply showed. your second note has changed me into a lamb, as nearly as a fellow of seventy-five can become one.... i have read, i think, every book you ever wrote, and do not let any production of yours escape me; and i have a little pile of framed copies of your inimitable "my own" to diffuse among people at christmas; and all these your writings make me wonder and shed metaphorical tears to think that you are such a heretic about reason in animals. but even homer nods; and it is said roosevelt has moments of silence. s. c. b. the questions his readers propound are sometimes very amusing. a physician of thirty years' practice asks in all seriousness how often the lions bring forth their young, and whether it is true that there is a relation between the years in which they breed and the increased productivity of human beings. one correspondent begs mr. burroughs to tell him how he and his wife and theodore roosevelt fold their hands (as though the last-named ever folded his), declaring he can read their characters with surprising accuracy if this information is forthcoming. in this instance, i think, mr. burroughs folded his hands serenely, leaving his correspondent waiting for the valued data. the reader will doubtless be interested to see the kind of letter the children sometimes get from their friend. i am fortunate in having one written in to a rhetoric class in fulton, new york, and one in , written to children in the new york city schools, both of which i will quote:-- west park, n. y., february , my dear young friends,-- your teacher miss lawrence has presumed that i might have something to say to a class of boys and girls studying rhetoric, and, what is more, that i might be disposed to say it. what she tells me about your interest in my own writings certainly interests me and makes me wish i might speak a helpful word to you. but let me tell you that very little conscious rhetoric has gone into the composition of those same writings. valuable as the study of rhetoric undoubtedly is, it can go but a little way in making you successful writers. i think i have got more help as an author from going a-fishing than from any textbook or classbook i ever looked into. miss lawrence will not thank me for encouraging you to play truant, but if you take bacon's or emerson's or arnold's or cowley's essays with you and dip into them now and then while you are waiting for the fish to bite, she will detect some fresh gleam in your composition when next you hand one in. there is no way to learn style so sure as by familiarity with nature, and by study of the great authors. shakespeare can teach you all there is to be learned of the art of expression, and the rhetoric of a live trout leaping and darting with such ease and sureness cannot well be beaten. what you really have in your heart, what you are in earnest about, how easy it is to say that! miss lawrence says you admire my essay on the strawberry. ah! but i loved the strawberry--i loved the fields where it grew, i loved the birds that sang there, and the flowers that bloomed there, and i loved my mother who sent me forth to gather the berries; i loved all the rural sights and sounds, i felt near them, so that when, in after years, i came to write my essay i had only to obey the old adage which sums up all of the advice which can be given in these matters, "look in thy heart and write." the same when i wrote about the apple. i had apples in my blood and bones. i had not ripened them in the haymow and bitten them under the seat and behind my slate so many times in school for nothing. every apple tree i had ever shinned up and dreamed under of a long summer day, while a boy, helped me to write that paper. the whole life on the farm, and love of home and of father and mother, helped me to write it. in writing your compositions, put your rhetoric behind you and tell what you feel and know, and describe what you have seen. all writers come sooner or later to see that the great thing is to be simple and direct; only thus can you give a vivid sense of reality, and without a sense of reality the finest writing is mere froth. strive to write sincerely, as you speak when mad, or when in love; not with the tips of the fingers of your mind, but with the whole hand. a noted english historian (freeman) while visiting vassar college went in to hear the rhetoric class. after the exercises were over he said to the professor, "why don't you teach your girls to spin a plain yarn?" i hope miss lawrence teaches you to spin a plain yarn. there is nothing like it. the figures of rhetoric are not paper flowers to be sewed upon the texture of your composition; they have no value unless they are real flowers which sprout naturally from your heart. what force in the reply of that little parisian girl i knew of! she offered some trinkets for sale to a lady on the street. "how much is this?" asked the lady, taking up some article from the little girl's basket. "judge for yourself. madam, i have tasted no food since yesterday morning." under the pressure of any real feeling, even of hunger, our composition will not lack point. i might run on in this way another sheet, but i will stop. i have been firing at you in the dark,--a boy or a girl at hand is worth several in the bush, off there in fulton,--but if any of my words tingle in your ears and set you to thinking, why you have your teacher to thank for it. very truly yours, john burroughs. la manda park, cal., february , my dear young friends,-- a hint has come to me here in southern california, where i have been spending the winter, that you are planning to celebrate my birthday--my seventy-fourth this time, and would like a word from me. let me begin by saying that i hope that each one of you will at least reach my age, and be able to spend a winter, or several of them, in southern california, and get as much pleasure out of it as i have. it is a beautiful land, with its leagues of orange groves, its stately plains, its park-like expanses, its bright, clean cities, its picturesque hamlets, and country homes, and all looked down upon by the high, deeply sculptured mountains and snow-capped peaks. let me hope also that when you have reached my age you will be as well and as young as i am. i am still a boy at heart, and enjoy almost everything that boys do, except making a racket. youth and age have not much to do with years. you are young so long as you keep your interest in things and relish your daily bread. the world is "full of a number of things," and they are all very interesting. as the years pass i think my interest in this huge globe upon which we live, and in the life which it holds, deepens. an active interest in life keeps the currents going and keeps them clear. mountain streams are young streams; they sing and sparkle as they go, and our lives may be the same. with me, the secret of my youth in age is the simple life--simple food, sound sleep, the open air, daily work, kind thoughts, love of nature, and joy and contentment in the world in which i live. no excesses, no alcoholic drinks, no tobacco, no tea or coffee, no stimulants stronger than water and food. i have had a happy life. i have gathered my grapes with the bloom upon them. may you all do the same. with all good wishes, john burroughs "i have no genius for making gifts," mr. burroughs once said to me, but how his works belie his words! in these letters, and in many others which his unknown friends have received from him, are gifts of rare worth, while his life itself has been a benefaction to us all. one day in recounting some of the propitious things which have come to him all unsought, he said: "how fortunate i have always been! my name should have been 'felix.'" but since "john" means "the gracious gift of god," we are content that he was named john burroughs. the retreat of a poet-naturalist we are coming more and more to like the savor of the wild and the unconventional. perhaps it is just this savor or suggestion of free fields and woods, both in his life and in his books, that causes so many persons to seek out john burroughs in his retreat among the trees and rocks on the hills that skirt the western bank of the hudson. to mr. burroughs more perhaps than to any other living american might be applied these words in genesis: "see, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the lord hath blessed"--so redolent of the soil and of the hardiness and plenitude of rural things is the influence that emanates from him. his works are as the raiment of the man, and to them adheres something as racy and wholesome as is yielded by the fertile soil. we are prone to associate the names of our three most prominent literary naturalists,--gilbert white, of england, and thoreau and john burroughs, of america,--men who have been so _en rapport_ with nature that, while ostensibly only disclosing the charms of their mistress, they have at the same time subtly communicated much of their own wide knowledge of nature, and permanently enriched our literature as well. in thinking of gilbert white one invariably thinks also of selborne, his open-air parish; in thinking of thoreau one as naturally recalls his humble shelter on the banks of walden pond; and it is coming to pass that in thinking of john burroughs one thinks likewise of his hidden farm high on the wooded hills that overlook the hudson, nearly opposite poughkeepsie. it is there that he has built himself a picturesque retreat, a rustic house named slabsides. i find that, to many, the word "slabsides" gives the impression of a dilapidated, ramshackle kind of place. this impression is an incorrect one. the cabin is a well-built two-story structure, its uneuphonious but fitting name having been given it because its outer walls are formed of bark-covered slabs. "my friends frequently complain," said mr. burroughs, "because i have not given my house a prettier name, but this name just expresses the place, and the place just meets the want that i felt for something simple, homely, secluded--something with the bark on." both gilbert white and thoreau became identified with their respective environments almost to the exclusion of other fields. the minute observations of white, and his records of them, extending over forty years, were almost entirely confined to the district of selborne. he says that he finds that "that district produces the greatest variety which is the most examined." the thoroughness with which he examined his own locality is attested by his "natural history of selborne." thoreau was such a stay-at-home that he refused to go to paris lest he miss something of interest in concord. "i have traveled a good deal in concord," he says in his droll way. and one of the most delicious instances of provinciality that i ever came across is thoreau's remark on returning dr. kane's "arctic explorations" to a friend who had lent him the book--"most of the phenomena therein recorded are to be observed about concord." in thinking of john burroughs, however, the thought of the author's mountain home as the material and heart of his books does not come so readily to consciousness. for most of us who have felt the charm, of his lyrical prose, both in his outdoor books and in his "indoor studies," were familiar with him as an author long before we knew there was a slabsides--long before there was one, in fact, since he has been leading his readers to nature for fifty years, while the picturesque refuge we are now coming to associate with him has been in existence only about fifteen years. our poet-naturalist seems to have appropriated all outdoors for his stamping-ground. he has given us in his limpid prose intimate glimpses of the hills and streams and pastoral farms of his native country; has taken us down the pepacton, the stream of his boyhood; we have traversed with him the "heart of the southern catskills," and the valleys of the neversink and the beaverkill; we have sat upon the banks of the potomac, and sailed down the saguenay; we have had a glimpse of the blue grass region, and "a taste of maine birch" (true, thoreau gave us this, also, and other "excursions" as well); we have walked with him the lanes of "mellow england"; journeyed "in the carlyle country"; marveled at the azure glaciers of alaska; wandered in the perpetual summerland of jamaica; camped with him and the strenuous one in the yellowstone; looked in awe and wonder at that "divine abyss," the grand canon of the colorado; felt the "spell of yosemite," and idled with him under the sun-steeped skies of hawaii and by her morning-glory seas. our essayist is thus seen not to be untraveled, yet he is no wanderer. no man ever had the home feeling stronger than has he; none is more completely under the spell of a dear and familiar locality. somewhere he has said: "let a man stick his staff into the ground anywhere and say, 'this is home,' and describe things from that point of view, or as they stand related to that spot,--the weather, the fauna, the flora,--and his account shall have an interest to us it could not have if not thus located and defined." (illustration of riverby from the orchard. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) before hunting out mr. burroughs in his mountain hermitage, let us glance at his conventional abode, riverby, at west park, ulster county, new york. this has been his home since . having chosen this place by the river, he built his house of stone quarried from the neighboring hills, and finished it with the native woods; he planted a vineyard on the sloping hillside, and there he has successfully combined the business of grape-culture with his pursuits and achievements as a literary naturalist. more than half his books have been written since he has dwelt at riverby, the earlier ones having appeared when he was a clerk in the treasury department in washington, an atmosphere supposedly unfriendly to literary work. it was not until he gave up his work in washington, and his later position as bank examiner in the eastern part of new york state, that he seemed to come into his own. business life, he had long known, could never be congenial to him; literary pursuits alone were insufficient; the long line of yeoman ancestry back of him cried out for recognition; he felt the need of closer contact with the soil; of having land to till and cultivate. this need, an ancestral one, was as imperative as his need of literary expression, an individual one. hear what he says after having ploughed in his new vineyard for the first time: "how i soaked up the sunshine to-day! at night i glowed all over; my whole being had had an earth bath; such a feeling of freshly ploughed land in every cell of my brain. the furrow had struck in; the sunshine had photographed it upon my soul." later he built him a little study somewhat apart from his dwelling, to which he could retire and muse and write whenever the mood impelled him. this little one-room study, covered with chestnut bark, is on the brow of a hill which slopes toward the river; it commands an extended view of the hudson. but even this did not meet his requirements. the formality and routine of conventional life palled upon him; the expanse of the hudson, the noise of railway and steamboat wearied him; he craved something more retired, more primitive, more homely. "you cannot have the same kind of attachment and sympathy for a great river; it does not flow through your affections like a lesser stream," he says, thinking, no doubt, of the trout-brooks that thread his father's farm, of montgomery hollow stream, of the red kill, and of others that his boyhood knew. accordingly he cast about for some sequestered spot in which to make himself a hermitage. (illustration of the study, riverby. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) during his excursions in the vicinity of west park, mr. burroughs had lingered oftenest in the hills back of, and parallel with, the hudson, and here he finally chose the site for his rustic cabin. he had fished and rowed in black pond, sat by its falls in the primitive forest, sometimes with a book, sometimes with his son, or with some other hunter or fisher of congenial tastes; and on one memorable day in april, years agone, he had tarried there with walt whitman. there, seated on a fallen tree, whitman wrote this description of the place which was later printed in "specimen days":-- i jot this memorandum in a wild scene of woods and hills where we have come to visit a waterfall. i never saw finer or more copious hemlocks, many of them large, some old and hoary. such a sentiment to them, secretive, shaggy, what i call weather-beaten, and let-alone--a rich underlay of ferns, yew sprouts and mosses, beginning to be spotted with the early summer wild flowers. enveloping all, the monotone and liquid gurgle from the hoarse, impetuous, copious fall--the greenish-tawny, darkly transparent waters plunging with velocity down the rocks, with patches of milk-white foam--a stream of hurrying amber, thirty feet wide, risen far back in the hills and woods, now rushing with volume--every hundred rods a fall, and sometimes three or four in that distance. a primitive forest, druidical, solitary, and savage--not ten visitors a year--broken rocks everywhere, shade overhead, thick underfoot with leaves--a just palpable wild and delicate aroma. "not ten visitors a year" may have been true when whitman described the place, but we know it is different now. troops of vassar girls come to visit the hermit of slabsides, and are taken to these falls; nature-lovers, and those who only think themselves nature-lovers, come from far and near; burroughs clubs, boys' schools, girls' schools, pedestrians, cyclists, artists, authors, reporters, poets,--young and old, renowned and obscure,--from april till november seek out this lover of nature, who is a lover of human nature as well, who gives himself and his time generously to those who find him. when the friends of socrates asked him where they should bury him, he said: "you may bury me if you can _find_ me." not all who seek john burroughs really find him; he does not mix well with every newcomer; one must either have something of mr. burroughs's own cast of mind, or else be of a temperament capable of genuine sympathy with him, in order to find the real man. he withdraws into his shell before persons of uncongenial temperament; to such he can never really speak--they see slabsides, but they don't see burroughs. he is, however, never curt or discourteous to any one. unlike thoreau, who "put the whole of nature between himself and his fellows," mr. burroughs leads his fellows to nature, although it is sometimes, doubtless, with the feeling that one can lead a horse to water, but can't make him drink; for of all the sightseers that journey to slabsides there must of necessity be many that "oh!" and "ah!" a good deal, but never really get further in their study of nature than that. still, it can scarcely fail to be salutary even to these to get away from the noise and the strife in city and town, and see how sane, simple, and wholesome life is when lived in a sane and simple and wholesome way. somehow it helps one to get a clearer sense of the relative value of things, it makes one ashamed of his petty pottering over trifles, to witness this exemplification of the plain living and high thinking which so many preach about, and so few practice. "the thing which a man's nature calls him to do--what else so well worth doing?" asks this writer. one's first impression after glancing about this well-built cabin, with the necessities of body and soul close at hand, is a vicarious satisfaction that here, at least, is one who has known what he wanted to do and has done it. we are glad that gilbert white made pastoral calls on his outdoor parishioners,--the birds, the toads, the turtles, the snails, and the earthworms,--although we often wonder if he evinced a like conscientiousness toward his human parishioners; we are glad that thoreau left the manufacture of lead pencils to become, as emerson jocosely complained, "the leader of a huckleberry party",--glad because these were the things their natures called them to do, and in so doing they best enriched their fellows. they literally went away that they might come to us in a closer, truer way than had they tarried in our midst. it must have been in answer to a similar imperative need of his own that john burroughs chose to hie himself to the secluded yet accessible spot where his mountain cabin is built. "as the bird feathers her nest with down plucked from her own breast," says mr. burroughs in one of his early essays, "so one's spirit must shed itself upon its environment before it can brood and be at all content." here at slabsides one feels that its master does brood and is content. it is an ideal location for a man of his temperament; it affords him the peace and seclusion he desires, yet is not so remote that he is shut off from human fellowship. for he is no recluse; his sympathies are broad and deep. unlike thoreau, who asserts that "you cannot have a deep sympathy with both man and nature," and that "those qualities that bring you near to the one estrange you from the other," mr. burroughs likes his kind; he is doubtless the most accessible of all notable american writers,--a fact which is perhaps a drawback to him in his literary work, his submission to being hunted out often being taken advantage of, no doubt, by persons who are in no real sense nature-lovers, but who go to his retreat merely to see the hermit in hiding there. after twelve years' acquaintance with his books i yielded to the impulse, often felt before, to tell mr. burroughs what a joy his writings had been to me. in answering my letter he said: "the genuine responses that come to an author from his unknown readers, judging from my own experience, are always very welcome. it is no intrusion but rather an inspiration." a gracious invitation to make him a visit came later. the visit was made in the "month of tall weeds," in september, . arriving at west park, the little station on the west shore railway, i found mr. burroughs in waiting. the day was gray and somewhat forbidding; not so the author's greeting; his almost instant recognition and his quiet welcome made me feel that i had always known him. it was like going home to hear him say quietly, "so you are here--really here," as he took my hand. the feeling of comradeship that i had experienced in reading his books was realized in his presence. with market-basket on arm, he started off at a brisk pace along the country road, first looking to see if i was well shod, as he warned me that it was quite a climb to slabsides. his kindly face was framed with snowy hair. he was dressed in olive-brown clothes, and "his old experienced coat" blended in color with the tree-trunks and the soil with which one felt sure it had often been in close communion. we soon left the country road and struck into a woodland path, going up through quiet, cathedral-like woods till we came to an abrupt rocky stairway which my companion climbed with ease and agility despite his five-and-sixty years. i paused to examine some mushrooms, and, finding a species that i knew to be edible, began nibbling it. "don't taste that," he said imperatively; but i laughed and nibbled away. with a mingling of anxiety and curiosity he inquired: "are you sure it's all right? do you really like them? i never could; they are so uncanny--the gnomes or evil genii or hobgoblins of the vegetable world--give them a wide berth." he pointed to a rock in the distance where he said he sometimes sat and sulked. "_you_ sulk, and own up to it, too?" i asked. "yes, and own up to it, too. why not? don't you?" "are there any bee-trees around here?" i questioned, remembering that in one of his essays he has said: "if you would know the delight of bee-hunting, and how many sweets such a trip yields besides honey, come with me some bright, warm, late september or early october day. it is the golden season of the year, and any errand or pursuit that takes us abroad upon the hills, or by the painted woods and along the amber-colored streams at such a time is enough." here was a september day if not a bright one, and here were the painted woods, and somehow i felt half aggrieved that he did not immediately propose going in quest of wild honey. instead he only replied: "i don't know whether there are bee-trees around here now or not. i used to find a good deal of wild honey over at a place that i spoke of casually as mount hymettus, and was much surprised later to find they had so put it down on the maps of this region. wild honey is delectable, but i pursued that subject till i sucked it dry. i haven't done much about it these later years." so we are not to gather wild honey, i find; but what of that?--am i not actually walking in the woods with john burroughs? up, up we climb, an ascent of about a mile and a quarter from the railway station. emerging from the woods, we come rather suddenly upon a reclaimed rock-girt swamp, the most of which is marked off in long green lines of celery. this swamp was formerly a lake-bottom; its rich black soil and three perennial springs near by decided mr. burroughs to drain and reclaim the soil and compel it to yield celery and other garden produce. nestling under gray rocks, on the edge of the celery garden, embowered in forest trees, is the vine-covered cabin, slabsides. what a feeling of peace and aloofness comes over one in looking up at the encircling hills! the few houses scattered about on other rocks are at a just comfortable distance to be neighborly, but not too neighborly. would one be lonesome here? aye, lonesome, but-- "not melancholy,--no, for it is green and bright and fertile, furnished in itself with the few needful things that life requires; in rugged arms how soft it seems to lie, how tenderly protected!" mr. burroughs has given to those who contemplate building a house some sound advice in his essay "roof-tree." there he has said that a man makes public proclamation of what are his tastes and his manners, or his want of them, when he builds his house; that if we can only keep our pride and vanity in abeyance and forget that all the world is looking on, we may be reasonably sure of having beautiful houses. tried by his own test, he has no reason to be ashamed of his taste or his manners when slabsides is critically examined. blending with its surroundings, it is coarse, strong, and substantial without; within it is snug and comfortable; its wide door bespeaks hospitality; its low, broad roof, protection and shelter; its capacious hearth, cheer; all its appointments for the bodily needs express simplicity and frugality; and its books and magazines, and the conversation of the host--are they not there for the needs that bread alone will not supply? "mr. burroughs, why don't you paint things?" asked a little boy of four, who had been spending a happy day at slabsides, but who, at nightfall, while nestling in the author's arms, seemed suddenly to realize that this rustic house was very different from anything he had seen before. "i don't like things painted, my little man; that is just why i came up here--to get away from paint and polish--just as you liked to wear your overalls to-day and play on the grass, instead of keeping on that pretty dress your mother wanted you to keep clean." "oh!" said the child in such a knowing tone that one felt he understood. but that is another story. the time of which i am speaking--that gray september day--what a memorable day it was! how cheery the large, low room looked when the host replenished the smouldering fire! "i sometimes come up here even in winter, build a fire, and stay for an hour or more, with long, sad, sweet thoughts and musings," he said. he is justly proud of the huge stone fireplace and chimney which he himself helped to construct; he also helped to hew the trees and build the house. "what joy went into the building of this retreat! i never expect to be so well content again." then, musing, he added: "it is a comfortable, indolent life i lead here; i read a little, write a little, and dream a good deal. here the sun does not rise so early as it does down at riverby. 'tired nature's sweet restorer' is not put to rout so soon by the screaming whistles, the thundering trains, and the necessary rules and regulations of well-ordered domestic machinery. here i really 'loaf and invite my soul.' yes, i am often melancholy, and hungry for companionship--not in the summer months, no, but in the quiet evenings before the fire, with only silly sally to share my long, long thoughts; she is very attentive, but i doubt if she notices when i sigh. she doesn't even heed me when i tell her that ornithology is a first-rate pursuit for men, but a bad one for cats. i suspect that she studies the birds with greater care than i do; for now i can get all i want of a bird and let him remain in the bush, but silly sally is a thorough-going ornithologist; she must engage in all the feather-splittings that the ornithologists do, and she isn't satisfied until she has thoroughly dissected and digested her material, and has all the dry bones of the subject laid bare." we sat before the fire while mr. burroughs talked of nature, of books, of men and women whose lives or books, or both, have closely touched his own. he talked chiefly of emerson and whitman, the men to whom he seems to owe the most, the two whom most his soul has loved. "i remember the first time i saw emerson," he said musingly; "it was at west point during the june examinations of the cadets. emerson had been appointed by president lincoln as one of the board of visitors. i had been around there in the afternoon, and had been peculiarly interested in a man whose striking face and manner challenged my attention. i did not hear him speak, but watched him going about with a silk hat, much too large, pushed back on his head; his sharp eyes peering into everything, curious about everything. 'here,' said i to myself, 'is a countryman who has got away from home, and intends to see all that is going on'--such an alert, interested air! that evening a friend came to me and in a voice full of awe and enthusiasm said, 'emerson is in town!' then i knew who the alert, sharp-eyed stranger was. we went to the meeting and met our hero, and the next day walked and talked with him. he seemed glad to get away from those old fogies and talk with us young men. i carried his valise to the boat-landing--i was in the seventh heaven of delight." "i saw him several years later," he continued, "soon after 'wake-robin' was published; he mentioned it and said: 'capital title, capital!' i don't suppose he had read much besides the title." "the last time i saw him," he said with a sigh, "was at holmes's seventieth-birthday breakfast, in boston. but then his mind was like a splendid bridge with one span missing; he had--what is it you doctors call it?--_aphasia_, yes, that is it--he had to grope for his words. but what a serene, godlike air! he was like a plucked eagle tarrying in the midst of a group of lesser birds. he would sweep the assembly with that searching glance, as much as to say, 'what is all this buzzing and chirping about?' holmes was as brilliant and scintillating as ever; sparks of wit would greet every newcomer, flying out as the sparks fly from that log. whittier was there, too, looking nervous and uneasy and very much out of his element. but he stood next to emerson, prompting his memory and supplying the words his voice refused to utter. when i was presented, emerson said in a slow, questioning way, 'burroughs--burroughs?' 'why, thee knows _him_,' said whittier, jogging his memory with some further explanation; but i doubt if he then remembered anything about me." it was not such a leap from the new england writers to whitman as one might imagine. mr. burroughs spoke of emerson's prompt and generous indorsement of the first edition of "leaves of grass": "i give you joy of your free, brave thought. i have great joy in it." this and much else emerson had written in a letter to whitman. "it is the charter of an emperor!" dana had said when whitman showed him the letter. the poet's head was undoubtedly a little turned by praise from such a source, and much to emerson's annoyance, the letter was published in the next edition of the "leaves." still emerson and whitman remained friends to the last. "whitman was a child of the sea," said mr. burroughs; "nurtured by the sea, cradled by the sea; he gave one the same sense of invigoration and of illimitableness that we get from the sea. he never looked so much at home as when on the shore--his gray clothes, gray hair, and far-seeing blue-gray eyes blending with the surroundings. and his thoughts--the same broad sweep, the elemental force and grandeur and all-embracingness of the impartial sea!" "whitman never hurried," mr. burroughs continued; "he always seemed to have infinite time at his disposal." it brought whitman very near to hear mr. burroughs say, "he used to take sunday breakfasts with us in washington. mrs. burroughs makes capital pancakes, and walt was very fond of them; but he was always late to breakfast. the coffee would boil over, the griddle would smoke, car after car would go jingling by, and no walt. sometimes it got to be a little trying to have domestic arrangements so interfered with; but a car would stop at last, walt would roll off it, and saunter up to the door--cheery, vigorous, serene, putting every one in good humor. and how he ate! he radiated health and hopefulness. this is what made his work among the sick soldiers in washington of such inestimable value. every one that came into personal relations with him felt his rare compelling charm." it was all very well, this talk about the poets, but climbing "break-neck stairs" on our way thither had given the guest an appetite, and the host as well; and these appetites had to be appeased by something less transcendental than a feast of reason. scarcely interrupting his engaging monologue, mr. burroughs went about his preparations for dinner, doing things deftly and quietly, all unconscious that there was anything peculiar in this sight to the spectator. potatoes and onions were brought in with the earth still on them, their bed was made under the ashes, and we sat down to more talk. after a while he took a chicken from the market-basket, spread it on a toaster, and broiled it over the coals; he put the dishes on the hearth to warm, washed the celery, parched some grated corn over the coals while the chicken was broiling, talking the while of tolstoy and of maeterlinck, of orioles and vireos, of whatever we happened to touch upon. he avowed that he was envious of maeterlinck on account of his poetic "life of the bee." "i ought to have written that," he said; "i know the bee well enough, but i could never do anything so exquisite." parts of maeterlinck's "treasures of the humble," and "wisdom and destiny," he "couldn't stand." i timorously mentioned his chapter on "silence." "'silence'? oh, yes; silence is very well--some kinds of it; but _why make such a noise about silence_?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. when the chicken was nearly ready, i moved toward the dining-table, on which some dishes were piled. as though in answer to my thought, he said: "yes, if there's anything you can do there, you may." so i began arranging the table. "where are _my_ knife and fork?" "in the cupboard," he answered without ceremony. we brought the good things from the hearth, hot and delicious, and sat down to a dinner that would have done credit to an adirondack guide,--and when one has said this, what more need one say? in helping myself to the celery i took an outside piece. mine host reached over and, putting a big white centre of celery on my plate, said: "what's the use taking the outside of things when one can have the heart?" this is typical of john burroughs's life as well as his art--he has let extraneous things, conventionalities, and non-essentials go; has gone to the heart of things. it is this that has made his work so vital. as we arose from the table, i began picking up the dishes. "you are going to help, are you?" "of course," i replied; "where is your dish-cloth? "--a natural question, as any woman will agree, but what a consternation it evoked! a just perceptible delay, a fumbling among pots and pans, and he came toward me with a most apologetic air, and with the sorriest-looking rag i had ever seen--its narrow circumference encircling a very big hole. "is _that_ the best dish-cloth you have?" i asked. for answer he held it up in front of his face, but the most of it being hole, it did not hide the eyes that twinkled so merrily that my housewifely reproof was effectually silenced. i took the sorry remnant and began washing the dishes, mentally resolving, and carrying out my resolution the next day, to send him a respectable dish-cloth. prosaic, if you will, but does not his own emerson say something about giving-- "to barrows, trays, and pans, grace and glimmer of romance"? and what graces a dish-pan better than a clean, whole, self-respecting dish-cloth? so there we stood, john burroughs and his humble reader, washing and wiping dishes, and weighing amiel and schopenhauer in the balance at the same time; and a very novel and amusing experience it was. yet it did not seem so strange after all, but almost as though it had happened before. silly sally purred beseechingly as she followed her master about the room and out to the wood-pile, reminding him that she liked chicken bones. while putting the bread in the large tin box that stood on the stair-landing, i had some difficulty with the clasp. "never mind that," said mr. burroughs, as he scraped the potato skins into the fire; "a vassar girl sat down on that box last summer, and it's never been the same since." the work finished, there was more talk before the fire. it was here that the author told his guest about anne gilchrist, the talented, noble-hearted englishwoman, whose ready acceptance of whitman's message bore fruit in her penetrating criticism of whitman, a criticism which stands to-day unrivaled by anything that has been written concerning the good gray poet. like most of mr. burroughs' readers, i cherish his poem "waiting," and, like most of them, i told him so on seeing him seated before the fire with folded hands and face serene, a living embodiment of the faith and trust expressed in those familiar lines. it would seem natural that he should write such a poem after the heat of the day, after his ripe experience, after success had come to him; it is the lesson we expect one to learn on reaching his age, and learning how futile is the fret and urge of life, how infinitely better is the attitude of trust that what is our own will gravitate to us in obedience to eternal laws. but i there learned that he had written the poem when a young man, life all before him, his prospects in a dubious and chaotic condition, his aspirations seeming likely to come to naught. "i have lived to prove it true," he said,--"that which i but vaguely divined when i wrote the lines. our lives are all so fearfully and wonderfully shot through with the very warp and woof of the universe, past, present, and to come! no doubt at all that our own--that which our souls crave and need--does gravitate toward us, or we toward it. 'waiting' has been successful," he added, "not on account of its poetic merit, but for some other merit or quality. it puts in simple and happy form some common religious aspirations, without using the religious jargon. people write me from all parts of the country that they treasure it in their hearts; that it steadies their hand at the helm; that it is full of consolation for them. it is because it is poetry allied with religion that it has this effect; poetry alone would not do this; neither would a prose expression of the same religious aspirations do it, for we often outgrow the religious views and feelings of the past. the religious thrill, the sense of the infinite, the awe and majesty of the universe, are no doubt permanent in the race, but the expression of these feelings in creeds and forms addressed to the understanding, or exposed to the analysis of the understanding, is as transient and flitting as the leaves of the trees. my little poem is vague enough to escape the reason, sincere enough to go to the heart, and poetic enough to stir the imagination." the power of accurate observation, of dispassionate analysis, of keen discrimination and insight that we his readers are familiar with in his writings about nature, books, men, and life in general, is here seen to extend to self-analysis as well,--a rare gift; a power that makes his opinions carry conviction. we feel he is not intent on upholding any theory, but only on seeing things as they are, and reporting them as they are. a steady rain had set in early in the afternoon, effectually drowning my hopes of a longer wood-land walk that day, but i was then, and many a time since then have been, well content that it was so. i learned less of woodland lore, but more of the woodland philosopher. in quiet converse passed the hours of that memorable day in the humble retreat on the wooded hills,-- "far from the clank of the world,"-- and in the company of the poet-naturalist. so cordial had my host been, so gracious the admission to his home and hospitality, that i left the little refuge with a feeling of enrichment i shall cherish while life lasts. i had sought out a favorite author; i had gained a friend. autobiographical sketches (in response to my request, mr. burroughs began in to write for me a series of letters, autobiographical in character. it is from them, for the most part, helped out by interviews to fill in the gaps, that i have compiled this part of the book. the letters were not written continuously; begun in , they suffered a long interruption, were resumed in , again in , and lastly in . the reader will, i trust, pardon any repetition noted, an occasional return to a subject previously touched upon being unavoidable because of the long intervals between some of the letters. it seems to me that these letters picture our author more faithfully than could any portrait drawn by another. thomas bailey aldrich has said that no man has ever yet succeeded in painting an honest portrait of himself in an autobiography, however sedulously he may have set about it; that in spite of his candid purpose he omits necessary touches and adds superfluous ones; that at times he cannot help draping his thought, and that, of course, the least shred of drapery is a disguise. but, aldrich to the contrary notwithstanding, i believe mr. burroughs has pictured himself and his environment in these pages with the same fidelity with which he has interpreted nature. he is so used to "straight seeing and straight thinking" that these gifts do not desert him when his observation is turned upon himself. he seems to be a shining example of the exception that proves the rule. besides, when aldrich pronounced that dictum, mr. burroughs had not produced these sketches. this record was not written with the intention of its being published as it stood, but merely to acquaint me with the facts and with the author's feelings concerning them, in case i should some day undertake his biography. but it seems to me that just because it was so written, it has a value which would be considerably lessened were it to be worked over into a more finished form. i have been willing to sacrifice the more purely literary value which would undoubtedly grace the record, were the author to revise it, that i may retain its homely, unstudied human value. i have arranged the autobiographical material under three headings: ancestry and family life, childhood and youth, and self-analysis.--c. b.) ancestry and family life i am, as you know, the son of a farmer. my father was the son of a farmer, as was his father, and his. there is no break, so far as i know, in the line of farmers back into the seventeenth century. there was a rev. george burroughs who was hanged (in ) for a witch in salem. he was a harvard graduate. i know of no other harvard graduate by our name until julian (mr. burroughs's son) graduated in from harvard. my father's cousin, the rev. john c. burroughs, the first president of chicago university, was graduated from yale sometime in the early forties. the first john burroughs of whom i have any trace came from the west indies, and settled in stratford, connecticut, where he married in . he had ten children, of whom the seventh was john, born in august, . my descent does not come from this john, but from his eldest brother, stephen, who was born at stratford in february, . stephen had eight children, and here another john turns up--his last child, born in . his third child, stephen burroughs (born in ), was a shipbuilder and became a noted mathematician and astronomer, and lived at bridgeport, connecticut. my descent is through stephen's seventh child, ephraim, born in . ephraim, my great-grandfather, also had a large family, six sons and several daughters, of which my grandfather eden was one. he was born in stratford, about . my great-grandfather ephraim left stratford near the beginning of the revolution and came into new york state, first into dutchess county, when grandfather was a small boy, and finally settled in what is now the town of stamford, delaware county, where he died in . he is buried in a field between hobart and stamford. my grandfather eden married rachael avery, and shortly afterward moved over the mountain to the town of roxbury, cutting a road through the woods and bringing his wife and all their goods and chattels on a sled drawn by a yoke of oxen. this must have been not far from the year . he cleared the land and built a log house with a black-ash bark roof, and a great stone chimney, and a floor of hewn logs. grandmother said it was the happiest day of her life when she found herself the mistress of this little house in the woods. great-grandmother avery lived with them later. she had a petulant disposition. one day when reproved for something, she went off and hid herself in the bushes and sulked--a family trait; i'm a little that way, i guess. grandfather burroughs was religious,--an old-school baptist,--a thoughtful, quiet, exemplary man who read his bible much. he was of spare build, serious, thrifty after the manner of pioneers, and a kind husband and father. he died, probably of apoplexy, when i was four years old. i can dimly remember him. he was about seventy-two. grandmother burroughs had sandy hair and a freckled face, and from her my father and his sister abby got their red hair. from this source i doubtless get some of my celtic blood. grand-mother burroughs had nine children; the earliest ones died in infancy; their graves are on the hill in the old burying-ground. two boys and five girls survived--phoebe, betsy, mary, abby, olly, chauncey (my father), and hiram. i do not remember grandmother at all. she died, i think, in , of consumption; she was in the seventies. father said her last words were, "chauncey, i have but a little while to live." her daughter oily and also my sister oily died of consumption. grandmother used to work with grandfather in the fields, and help make sugar. i have heard them tell how in they raised wheat which sold for $ . a bushel--a great thing. father told me of his uncle, chauncey avery, brother of grandmother burroughs, who, with his wife and seven children, was drowned near shandaken, by a flood in the esopus creek, in april, , or . the creek rose rapidly in the night; retreat was cut off in the morning. they got on the roof and held family prayers. uncle chauncey tried to fell a tree and make a bridge, but the water drove him away. the house was finally carried away with most of the family in it. the father swam to a stump with one boy on his back and stood there till the water carried away the stump, then tried to swim with the boy for shore, but the driftwood soon engulfed him and all was over. two of the bodies were never found. their bones doubtless rest somewhere in the still waters of the lower esopus. (here follow details concerning one paternal and one maternal aunt, which, though picturesque, would better be omitted. it is to be noted, however, that in this simple homely narrative of his ancestors (which, by the way, gives a vivid picture of the early pioneer days) and later in his own personal history, there is no attempt to conceal or gloss over weaknesses or shortcomings; all is set down with engaging candor.--c. b.) father's sister abby married a maternal cousin, john kelly. he was of a scholarly turn. he worked for father the year i was born, and i was named after him. i visited him in pennsylvania in , and while there, when he was talking with me about the men of our family named john burroughs, he said, "one was a minister in the west, one was uncle hiram's son, you are the third, and there is still another i have heard of,--a writer." and i was silly enough not to tell him that i was that one. after i reached home, some of my people sent him "winter sunshine," and when he found that i was its author, he wrote that he "set great store by it." i don't know why i should have been so reticent about my books--they were a foreign thing, i suppose; it was not natural to speak of them among my kinsfolk. (in this connection let me quote from an early letter of mr. burroughs to me. it was written in after the death of his favorite sister: "she was very dear to me, and i had no better friend. more than the rest of my people she aspired to understand and appreciate me, and with a measure of success. my family are plain, unlettered farmer folk, and the world in which you and i live iss a sealed book to them. the have never read my books. what they value in me is what i have in common with them, which is, no doubt, the larger part of me. but i love them all just the same. they are a part of father and mother, of the old home, and of my youthful days."--c. b.) mother's father. grandfather kelly, was a soldier of , of irish descent, born in connecticut, i think. his name was edmund kelly. he went into the war as a boy and saw washington and la fayette. he was at valley forge during that terrible winter the army spent there. one day washington gave the order to the soldiers to dress-parade for inspection; some had good clothes, some scarcely any, and no shoes. he made all the well-dressed men go and cut wood for the rest, and excused the others. grandfather was a small man with a big head and quite pronounced irish features. he was a dreamer. he was not a good provider; grandmother did most of the providing. he wore a military coat with brass buttons, and red-top boots. he believed in spooks and witches, and used to tell us spook stories till our hair would stand on end. he was an expert trout fisherman. early in the morning i would dig worms for bait, and we would go fishing over in west settlement, or in montgomery hollow. i went fishing with him when he was past eighty. he would steal along the streams and "snake" out the trout, walking as briskly as i do now. from him i get my dreamy, lazy, shirking ways. in he and grandmother came to live near us. he had a severe fit of illness that year. i remember we caught a fat coon for him. he was fond of game. i was there one morning when they entertained a colored minister overnight, probably a fugitive slave. he prayed--how lustily he prayed! i have heard grandfather tell how, when he was a boy in connecticut, he once put his hand in a bluebird's nest and felt, as he said, "something comical"; he drew out his hand, which was followed by the head and neck of a black snake; he took to his heels, and the black snake after him. (i rather think that's a myth.) he said his uncle, who was ploughing, came after the black snake with a whip, and the snake slunk away. he thought he remembered that. it may be a black snake might pursue one, but i doubt it. (mr. burroughs's ingrained tendency to question reports of improbable things in nature shows even in these reminiscences of his grandfather. his instinct for the truth is always on the qui vive.--c. b.) grandmother kelly lived to be past eighty. she was a big woman--thrifty and domestic--big enough to take "granther" up in her arms and walk off with him. she did more to bring up her family than he did; was a practical housewife, and prolific. she had ten children and made every one of them toe the mark. i don't know whether she ever took "granther" across her knee or not, but he probably deserved it. she was quite uneducated. her maiden name was lavinia minot. i don't know where her people came from, or whether she had any brothers and sisters. they lived in red kill mostly, in the eastern part of the town of roxbury, and also over on the edge of greene county. i remember, when grandfather used to tell stories of cruelty in the army, and of the hardships of the soldiers, she would wriggle and get very angry. all her children were large. they were as follows: sukie, ezekiel, charles, martin, edmund, william, thomas, hannah, abby, and amy (my mother). aunt sukie was a short, chubby woman, always laughing. uncle charles was a man of strong irish features, like grandfather. he was a farmer who lived in genesee county. uncle martin was a farmer of fair intelligence; ezekiel was lower in the scale than the others; was intemperate, and after losing his farm became a day-laborer. he would carry a gin-bottle into the fields, and would mow the stones as readily as he would the grass--and i had to turn the grindstone to sharpen his scythe. uncle edmund was a farmer and a pettifogger. uncle william died comparatively young; he had nurseries near rochester. uncle thomas was a farmer, slow and canny, with a quiet, dry humor. aunt hannah married robert avery, who drank a good deal; i can't remember anything about her. aunt abby was large and thrifty; she married john jenkins, and had a large family.... amy, my mother, was her mother's tenth child. mother was born in rensselaer county near albany, in . her father moved to delaware county when she was a child, driving there with an ox-team. mother "worked out" in her early teens. she was seventeen or eighteen when she married, february, . father and mother first went to keeping house on grandfather burroughs's old place--not in the log house, but in the frame house of which you saw the foundations. brother hiram was born there. (mr. burroughs's last walk with his father was to the crumbling foundations of this house. i have heard him tell how his father stood and pointed out the location of the various rooms--the room where they slept the first night they went there; the one where the eldest child was born; that in which his mother died. i stood (one august day in ) with mr. burroughs on the still remaining joists of his grandfather's house--grass-grown, and with the debris of stones and beams mingling with weeds and bushes. he pointed out to me, as his father had done for him, the location of the various rooms, and mused upon the scenes enacted there; he showed where the paths led to the barn and to the spring, and seemed to take a melancholy interest in picturing the lives of his parents and grandparents. a sudden burst of gladness from a song sparrow, and his musings gave way to attentive pleasure, and the sunlit present claimed him instead of the shadowy past. he was soon rejoicing in the discovery of a junco's nest near the foundations of the old house.--c.b.) my father, chauncey burroughs, was born december , . he received a fair schooling for those times--the three r's--and taught school one or two winters. his reading was the bible and hymn-book, his weekly secular paper, and a monthly religious paper. he used to say that as a boy he was a very mean one, saucy, quarrelsome, and wicked, liked horse-racing and card-playing--both alike disreputable in those times. in early manhood he "experienced religion" and joined the old-school baptist church, of which his parents were members, and then all his bad habits seem to have been discarded. he stopped swearing and sabbath-breaking, and other forms of wickedness, and became an exemplary member of the community. he was a man of unimpeachable veracity; bigoted and intolerant in his religious and political views, but a good neighbor, a kind father, a worthy citizen, a fond husband, and a consistent member of his church. he improved his farm, paid his debts, and kept his faith. he had no sentiment about things and was quite unconscious of the beauties of nature over which we make such an ado. "the primrose by the river's brim" would not have been seen by him at all. this is true of most farmers; the plough and the hoe and the scythe do not develop their aesthetic sensibilities; then, too, in the old religious view the beauties of this world were vain and foolish. i have said that my father had strong religious feeling. he took "the signs of the times" for over forty years, reading all those experiences with the deepest emotion. i remember when a mere lad hearing him pray in the hog-pen. it was a time of unusual religious excitement with him, no doubt; i heard, and ran away, knowing it was not for me to hear. father had red hair, and a ruddy, freckled face. he was tender-hearted and tearful, but with blustering ways and a harsh, strident voice. easily moved to emotion, he was as transparent as a child, with a child's lack of self-consciousness. unsophisticated, he had no art to conceal anything, no guile, and, as mother used to say, no manners. "all i ever had," father would rejoin, "for i've never used any of them." i doubt if he ever said "thank you" in his life; i certainly never heard him. he had nothing to conceal, and could not understand that others might have. i have heard him ask people what certain things cost, men their politics, women their ages, with the utmost ingenuousness. one day when he and i were in poughkeepsie, we met a strange lad on the street with very red hair, and father said to him, "i can remember when my hair was as red as yours." the boy stared at him and passed on. although father lacked delicacy, he did not lack candor or directness. he would tell a joke on himself with the same glee that he would on any one else.... i have heard him tell how, in , at the time of the "anti-renters," when he saw the posse coming, he ran over the hill to uncle daniel's and crawled under the bed, but left his feet sticking out, and there they found him. he had not offended, or dressed as an indian, but had sympathized with the offenders. he made a great deal of noise about the farm, sending his voice over the hills (we could hear him calling us to dinner when we were working on the "rundle place," half a mile away), shouting at the cows, the pigs, the sheep, or calling the dog, with needless expenditure of vocal power at all times and seasons. the neighbors knew when father was at home; so did the cattle in the remotest field. his bark was always to be dreaded more than his bite. his threats of punishment were loud and severe, but the punishment rarely came. never but once did he take a gad to me, and then the sound was more than the substance. i deserved more than i got: i had let a cow run through the tall grass in the meadow when i might easily have "headed her off," as i was told to do. father used to say "no," to our requests for favors (such as a day off to go fishing or hunting) with strong emphasis, and then yield to our persistent coaxing. one day i was going to town and asked him for money to buy an algebra. "what is an algebra?" he had never heard of an algebra, and couldn't see why i needed one; he refused the money, though i coaxed and mother pleaded with him. i had left the house and had got as far as the big hill up there by the pennyroyal rock, when he halloed to me that i might get the algebra--mother had evidently been instrumental in bringing him to terms. but my blood was up by this time, and as i trudged along to the village i determined to wait until i could earn the money myself for the algebra, and some other books i coveted. i boiled sap and made maple-sugar, and the books were all the sweeter by reason of the maple-sugar money. when i wanted help, as i did two or three times later, on a pinch. father refused me; and, as it turned out, i was the only one of his children that could or would help him when the pinch came--a curious retribution, but one that gave me pleasure and him no pain. i was better unhelped, as it proved, and better for all i could help him. but he was a loving father all the same. he couldn't understand my needs, but love outweighs understanding. he did not like my tendency to books; he was afraid, as i learned later, that i would become a methodist minister--his pet aversion. he never had much faith in me--less than in any of his children; he doubted if i would ever amount to anything. he saw that i was an odd one, and had tendencies and tastes that he did not sympathize with. he never alluded to my literary work; apparently left it out of his estimate of me. my aims and aspirations were a sealed book to him, as his peculiar religious experiences were to me, yet i reckon it was the same leaven working in us both. i remember, on my return from dr. holmes's seventieth birthday breakfast, in , a remark of father's. he had overheard me telling sister abigail about the breakfast, and he declared: "i had rather go to hear old elder jim mead preach two hours, if he was living, than attend all the fancy parties in the world." he said he had heard him preach when he did not know whether he was in the body or out of the body. the elder undoubtedly had a strong natural eloquence. although father never spoke to me of my writings, abigail once told me that when she showed him a magazine with some article of mine in, and accompanied by a photograph of me, he looked at it a long time; he said nothing, but his eyes filled with tears. he went to school to the father of jay gould, john gould--the first child born in the town of roxbury (about or ). he married amy kelly, my mother, in . he was six years her senior. she lived over in red kill where he had taught school, and was one of his pupils. i have often heard him say: "i rode your uncle martin's old sorrel mare over to her folks' when i went courting her." when he would be affectionate toward her before others, mother would say, "now, chauncey, don't be foolish." father bought the farm of 'riah bartram's mother, and moved on it in . in a house that stood where the old home does now, i was born, april , . it was a frame house with three or four rooms below and one room "done off" above, and a big chamber. i was the fifth son and the seventh child of my parents. (illustration of birthplace of john burroughs, roxbury, new york. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) mother was in her twenty-ninth year when she was carrying me. she had already borne four boys and two girls; her health was good and her life, like that of all farmers' wives in that section, was a laborious one. i can see her going about her work--milking, butter-making, washing, cooking, berry-picking, sugar-making, sewing, knitting, mending, and the thousand duties that fell to her lot and filled her days. both she and father were up at daylight in summer, and before daylight in winter. sometimes she had help in the kitchen, but oftener she did not. the work that housewives did in those times seems incredible. they made their own soap, sugar, cheese, dipped or moulded their candles, spun the flax and wool and wove it into cloth, made carpets, knit the socks and mittens and "comforts" for the family, dried apples, pumpkins, and berries, and made the preserves and pickles for home use. mother went about all these duties with cheerfulness and alacrity. she more than kept up her end of the farm work. she was more strenuous than father. how many hours she sat up mending and patching our clothes, while we were sleeping! rainy days meant no let-up in her work, as they did in father's. the first suit of clothes i remember having, she cut and made. then the quilts and coverlids she pieced and quilted! we used, too, in my boyhood to make over two tons of butter annually, the care of which devolved mainly upon her, from the skimming of the pans to the packing of the butter in the tubs and firkins, though the churning was commonly done by a sheep or a dog. we made our own cheese, also. as a boy i used to help do the wheying, and i took toll out of the sweet curd. one morning i ate so much of the curd that i was completely cloyed, and could eat none after that. i can remember mother's loom pounding away hour after hour in the chamber of an outbuilding where she was weaving a carpet, or cloth. i used to help do some of the quilling--running the yarn or linen thread upon spools to be used in the shuttles. the distaff, the quill-wheel, the spinning-wheel, the reel, were very familiar to me as a boy; so was the crackle, the swingle, the hetchel, for father grew flax which mother spun into thread and wove into cloth for our shirts and summer trousers, and for towels and sheets. wearing those shirts, when new, made a boy's skin pretty red. i dare say they were quite equal to a hair shirt to do penance in; and wiping on a new home-made linen towel suggested wiping on a brier bush. dear me! how long it has been since i have seen any tow, or heard a loom or a spinning-wheel, or seen a boy breaking in his new flax-made shirt! no one sees these things any more. mother had but little schooling; she learned to read, but not to write or cipher; hence, books and such interests took none of her time. she was one of those uneducated countrywomen of strong natural traits and wholesome instincts, devoted to her children; she bore ten, and nursed them all--an heroic worker, a helpful neighbor, and a provident housewife, with the virtues that belonged to so many farmers' wives in those days, and which we are all glad to be able to enumerate in our mothers. she had not a large frame, but was stout; had brown hair and blue eyes, a fine strong brow, and a straight nose with a strong bridge to it. she was a woman of great emotional capacity, who felt more than she thought. she scolded a good deal, but was not especially quick-tempered. she was an old-school baptist, as was father. she was not of a vivacious or sunny disposition--always a little in shadow, as it seems to me now, given to brooding and to dwelling upon the more serious aspects of life. how little she knew of all that has been done and thought in the world! and yet the burden of it all was, in a way, laid upon her. the seriousness of revolutionary times, out of which came her father and mother, was no doubt reflected in her own serious disposition. as i have said, her happiness was always shaded, never in a strong light; and the sadness which motherhood, and the care of a large family, and a yearning heart beget was upon her. i see myself in her perpetually. a longing which nothing can satisfy i share with her. whatever is most valuable in my books comes from her--the background of feeling, of pity, of love comes from her. she was of a very different temperament from father--much more self-conscious, of a more breeding, inarticulate nature. she was richly endowed with all the womanly instincts and affections. she had a decided preference for abigail and me among her children, wanted me to go to school, and was always interceding with father to get me books. she never read one of my books. she died in , at the age of seventy-three. i had published four of my books then. she had had a stroke of apoplexy in the fall of , but lived till december of the following year, dying on father's seventy-seventh birthday. (he lived four years more.) we could understand but little of what she said after she was taken ill. she used to repeat a line from an old hymn--"only a veil between." she thought a good deal of some verses i wrote--"my brother's farm"--and had them framed. (you have seen them in the parlor at the old home. i wrote them in washington the fall that you were born. i was sick and forlorn at the time.) i owe to mother my temperament, my love of nature, my brooding, introspective habit of mind--all those things which in a literary man help to give atmosphere to his work. in her line were dreamers and fishermen and hunters. one of her uncles lived alone in a little house in the woods. his hut was doubtless the original slabsides. grandfather kelly was a lover of solitude, as all dreamers are, and mother's happiest days, i think, were those spent in the fields after berries. the celtic element, which i get mostly from her side, has no doubt played an important part in my life. my idealism, my romantic tendencies, are largely her gift. on my father's side i find no fishermen or hermits or dreamers. i find a marked religious strain, more active and outspoken than on mother's. the religion of the kellys was, for the most part, of the silent, meditative kind, but there are preachers and teachers and scholars on father's side--one of them, stephen burroughs (b. ), a renegade preacher. doubtless most of my own intellectual impetus comes from this side of the family. there are also cousins and second cousins on this side who became preachers, and some who became physicians, but i recall none on the kelly side. in size and physical make-up i am much like my father. i have my father's foot, and i detect many of his ways in my own. my loud and harmless barking, when i am angered, i get from him. the kellys are more apt to bite. i see myself, too, in my brothers, in their looks and especially in their weaknesses. take from me my special intellectual equipment, and i am in all else one of them. (speaking of their characteristics as a family, mr. burroughs says that they have absolute inability to harbor resentment (a celtic trait); that they never have "cheek" to ask enough for what they have to sell, lack decision, and are easily turned from their purpose. commenting on this, he has often said: "we are weak as men--do not make ourselves felt in the community. but this very weakness is a help to me as a writer upon nature. i don't stand in my own light. i get very close to bird and beast. my thin skin lets the shy and delicate influences pass. i can surrender myself to nature without effort. i am like her.... that which hinders me with men, makes me strong with impersonal nature, and admits me to her influences.... i am lacking in moral fibre, but am tender and sympathetic.") to see mr. burroughs stand and fondly gaze upon the fruitful, well-cultivated fields that his father had cared for so many years, to hear him say that the hills are like father and mother to him, was to realize how strong is the filial instinct in him--that and the home feeling. as he stood on the crest of the big hill by the pennyroyal rock, looking down on the peaceful homestead in the soft light of a midsummer afternoon, his eye roamed fondly over the scene:-- "how fertile and fruitful it is now, but how lonely and bleak the old place looked in that winter landscape the night i drove up from the station in the moonlight after hearing of father's death! there was a light in the window, but i knew father would not meet me at the door this time--beleaguering winter without, and death within! "father and mother! i think of them with inexpressible love and yearning, wrapped in their last eternal sleep. they had, for them, the true religion, the religion of serious, simple, hard-working. god-fearing lives. to believe as they did, to sit in their pews, is impossible to me--the time-spirit has decreed otherwise; but all i am or can be or achieve is to emulate their virtues--my soul can be saved only by a like truthfulness and sincerity." the following data concerning his brothers and sisters were given me by mr. burroughs in conversation:-- hiram, born in , was an unpractical man and a dreamer; he was a bee-keeper. he showed great aptitude in the use of tools, could make axe-handles, neck-yokes, and the various things used about the farm, and was especially skilled in building stone walls. but he could not elbow his way in a crowd, could not make farming pay, and was always pushed to the wall. he cared nothing for books, and although he studied grammar when a boy, and could parse, he never could write a grammatical sentence. he died at the age of seventy-five. olly ann was about two years younger than hiram. mr. burroughs remembers her as a frail, pretty girl, with dark-brown eyes, a high forehead, and a wasp-like waist. she had a fair education for her time, married and had two children, and died in early womanhood of phthisis. wilson was a farmer, thrifty and economical. he married but had no children. he was evidently somewhat neurotic; as a child, even when well, he would groan and moan in his sleep, and he died, at the age of twenty-eight, after a short illness, of a delirious fever. curtis also was a farmer, but lacked judgment; could not look ahead; thought if he gave his note a debt was canceled, and went on piling up other indebtedness. he had a very meagre schooling, but was apt at witty remarks. he was temperate; was much given to reading "the signs of the times," like his father before him. he married and had five children. for many years previous to his death he lived at the homestead, dying there in his eightieth year, in the summer of . two of his unmarried children still live at the old home,--of all places on the earth the one toward which mr. burroughs turns with the most yearning fondness. edmund died in infancy. jane, a tender-hearted, old-fashioned woman, who cried and fretted easily, and worried over trifles, was a good housekeeper, and a fond mother--a fat, dumpy little woman with a doleful voice. she was always urging her brother not to puzzle his head about writing; writing and thinking, she said, were "bad for the head." when he would go away on a journey of only a hundred miles, she would worry incessantly lest something happen to him. she married and had five daughters. her death occurred in may, , at the age of seventy-seven. "poor jane!" said mr. burroughs one day, when referring to her protests against his writing; "i fear she never read a dozen printed words of mine--or shall i say 'lucky jane'?" john, born in , was always "an odd one." (one is reminded of what william r. thayer said of the franklin family: "among the seventeen franklin children one was a benjamin, and the rest nobodies.") eden was born in . frail most of his life, in later years he has become robust, and now ( ) is the only surviving member of the family besides mr. burroughs. he is cheery and loquacious, methodical and orderly, and very punctilious in dress. (one day, in the summer of , when he was calling at "woodchuck lodge,"--the summer home where mr. burroughs has lived of late years, near the old place where he was born,--this brother recounted some of their youthful exploits, especially the one which yielded the material for the essay "a white day and a red fox." "i shot the fox and got five dollars for it," said mr. eden burroughs, "and john wrote a piece about it, and got seventy-five.") abigail, the favorite sister of our author, appreciated her brother's books and his ideals more than any other member of the family. she married and had two children. at the time of her death, in , of typhoid fever (at the age of fifty-eight) the band of brothers and sisters had been unbroken by death for more than thirty-seven years. her loss was a severe blow to her brother. he had always shared his windfalls with her; she had read some of his essays, and used to talk with him about his aspirations, encouraging him timidly, before he had gained recognition. eveline died at the age of five years. the death of his brother hiram, in , made the past bleed afresh for mr. burroughs. "he was next to father and mother in my affections," he wrote. "oh! if i had only done more for him--this is my constant thought. if i could only have another chance! how generous death makes us! go, then, and make up by doing more for the living." as i walked with him about the old home, he said, "i can see hiram in everything here; in the trees he planted and grafted, in these stone walls he built, in this land he so industriously cultivated during the years he had the farm." so large a place in his affections did this brother hold, and yet how wide apart were these two in their real lives! i know of no one who has pictured the pathos of lives so near and yet so far apart as has george eliot when she says: "family likeness has often a deep sadness in it. nature, that great tragic dramatist, knits us together by bone and muscle, and divides us by the subtler web of our brains; blends yearning and repulsion, and ties us by our heart-strings to the beings that jar us at every moment. we hear a voice with the very cadence of our own uttering the thoughts we despise; we see eyes--ah! so like our mother's--averted from us in cold alienation." we cannot tell why one boy in a family turns out a genius, while the others stay in the ancestral ruts and lead humdrum, placid lives, any more than we can tell why one group of the hepaticas we gather in the april woods has the gift of fragrance, while those of a sister group in the same vicinity are scentless. a caprice of fate, surely, that "mate and mate beget such different issues." "hiram was with me at slabsides," said mr. burroughs, "much of the time when i was writing the whitman book, but never referred to it in any way. when it came from the press, i said to him, 'hiram, here is the book you have heard me speak about as having cost me nearly four years' work, and which i rewrote four times.'" "'that's the book, is it?' he replied, showing no curiosity about it, or desire to look into it, but kept drumming on the table--a habit of his that was very annoying to me at times, but of which he was not aware. when 'a year in the fields' came out, he looked at some of the pictures, but that was all." there is something very pathetic in all this--these two brothers living in that isolated cabin in the woods, knit together by the ties of kinship, having in common a deep and yearning love for each other, and for the old home in the catskills,--their daily down-sittings and up-risings outwardly the same, yet so alienated in what makes up one's real existence. the one, the elder, intent on his bees, his thoughts by day revolving about his hives, or concerned with the weather and the daily happenings; at night, as he idly drums with his fingers, dreaming of the old days on the farm--of how he used to dig out rocks to build the fences, of the sugar-making, of cradling the oats in july; while the other--ah! the other, of what was he not thinking!--of the little world of the hives (his thoughts yielding the exquisite "idyl of the honey-bee"), of boyhood days upon the farm, of the wild life around his cabin, of the universe, and of the soul of the poet whitman, that then much misunderstood man, than whom no one so much as he has helped us to appreciate. going out and in, attending to his homely tasks (for these brothers did their own housework), the younger brother was all the time thinking of that great soul, of all that association with him had meant to him, and of all that whitman would mean to america, to the world, as poet, prophet, seer--thinking how out of his knowledge of whitman as poet and person he could cull and sift and gather together an adequate and worthy estimate of one whom his soul loved as jonathan loved david! the mystery of personality--how shall one fathom it? i asked myself this one rainy afternoon, as i sat in the burroughs homestead and looked from one brother to another, the two so alike and yet so unlike. the one a simple farmer whose interests are circumscribed by the hills which surround the farm on which as children they were reared; the other, whose interests in the early years were seemingly just as circumscribed, but who felt that nameless something--that push from within--which first found its outlet in a deeper interest in the life about him than his brothers ever knew; and who later felt the magic of the world of books; and, still later, the need of expression, an expression which finally showed itself in a masterly interpretation of country life and experiences. the same heredity here, the same environment, the same opportunities--yet how different the result! the farmer has tended and gathered many a crop from the old place since they were boys, but has been blind and deaf to all that has there yielded such a harvest to the other. that other, a plain, unassuming man, "standing at ease in nature," has become a household word because of all that he has contributed to our intellectual and emotional life. a man who as a lad had roamed the roxbury hills with john burroughs and his brothers, and had known the boy john as something of a dreamer, and thought of him in later years as perhaps of less account than his brothers (since they had settled down, owned land, and were leading industrious lives), was traveling in europe in the eighties. on the top of a stage-coach in the scottish highlands he sat next a scholarly-looking man whose garb, he thought, betokened a priest. from some question which the traveler put, the englishman learned that the stranger was from america. immediately he showed a lively interest. "from america! do you, then, know john burroughs?" imagine the surprise of the delaware county farmer at being questioned about his schoolmate, the dreamer, who, to be sure, "took to books"; but what was he that this englishman should inquire about him as the one man in america he was eager to learn about! doubtless mr. burroughs was the one literary man the delaware county farmer did know, though his knowledge was on the personal and not on the literary side. and imagine the surprise of the priest (if priest it was) to find that he had actually lighted upon a schoolmate of the author!--c. b.) childhood and youth i seem to have been a healthy, active child, very impressionable, and with more interests and a keener enjoyment of things than most farm boys have. i was fond of the girls back as early as i can remember, and had my sweethearts at a very early age.... i learned my letters at school, when i was five or six, in the old-fashioned way by being called up to the teacher several times a day and naming the letters as he pointed at them where they stood in a perpendicular column in cobb's spelling-book. the vowels and consonants stood in separate columns, and had to be learned one by one, by continued repetition. it took me a long time, i remember, to distinguish _b_ from _d_, and _c_ from _e_. when and how i learned to read i do not remember. i recall cobb's second reader, and later olney's geography, and then dayballs arithmetic. i went to school summers till i was old enough to help on the farm, say at the age of eleven or twelve, when my schooling was confined to the winters. (illustration of the old schoolhouse, roxbury, new york. from a photograph by m.h. fanning) as a boy, the only farm work that appealed to me was sugar-making in the maple woods in spring. this i thoroughly enjoyed. it brought me near to wild nature and was freer from routine than other farm work. then i soon managed to gather a little harvest of my own from the sugar bush. i used to anticipate the general tapping by a few days or a week, and tap a few trees on my own account along the sunny border of the woods, and boil the sap down on the kitchen stove (to the disgust of the womenfolks), selling the sugar in the village. i think the first money i ever earned came to me in this way. my first algebra and first grammar i bought with some of this precious money. when i appeared in the village with my basket of small cakes of early sugar, how my customers would hail me and call after me! no one else made such white sugar, or got it to market so early. one season, i remember, i got twelve silver quarters for sugar, and i carried them in my pockets for weeks, jingling them in the face of my envious schoolmates, and at intervals feasting my own eyes upon them. i fear if i could ever again get hold of such money as that was i should become a miser. hoeing corn, weeding the garden, and picking stone was drudgery, and haying and harvesting i liked best when they were a good way off; picking up potatoes worried me, but gathering apples suited my hands and my fancy better, and knocking "juno's cushions" in the spring meadows with my long-handled knocker, about the time the first swallow was heard laughing overhead, was real fun. i always wanted some element of play in my work; buckling down to any sort of routine always galled me, and does yet. the work must be a kind of adventure, and permit of sallies into free fields. hence the most acceptable work for me was to be sent strawberrying or raspberrying by mother; but the real fun was to go fishing up montgomery hollow, or over on rose's brook, this necessitating a long tramp, and begetting a hunger in a few hours that made a piece of rye bread the most delectable thing in the world; yet a pure delight that never sated. mother used to bake her bread in the large old-fashioned brick oven, and once or twice a week we boys had to procure oven wood. "you must get me oven wood this morning," she would say; "i am going to bake today." then we would scurry around for dry, light, quick wood--pieces of old boxes and boards, and dry limbs. "one more armful," she would often say, when we were inclined to quit too soon. in a half-hour or so, the wood would be reduced to ashes, and the oven properly heated. i can see mother yet as she would open the oven door and feel the air inside with her hand. "run, quick, and get me a few more sticks--it is not quite hot enough." when it was ready, the coals and ashes were raked out, and in went the bread, six or seven big loaves of rye, with usually two of wheat. the wheat was for company. when we would come in at dinner- or supper-time and see wheat bread on the table we would ask: "who's in the other room?" maybe the answer would be, "your uncle martin and aunt virey." how glad i would be! i always liked to see company. well, the living was better, and then, company brought a new element into the day; it gave a little tinge of romance to things. to wake up in the morning and think that uncle martin and aunt virey were there, or uncle edmund and aunt saliny, quickened the pulse a little. or, when any of my cousins came,--boys near my own age,--what joy filled the days! and when they went, how lonesome i would be! how forlorn all things looked till the second or third day! i early developed a love of comrades, and was always fond of company--and am yet, as the records of slabsides show. i was quite a hunter in my youth, as most farm boys are, but i never brought home much game--a gray squirrel, a partridge, or a wild pigeon occasionally. i think with longing and delight of the myriads of wild pigeons that used to come every two or three years--covering the sky for a day or two, and making the naked spring woods gay and festive with their soft voices and fluttering blue wings. i have seen thousands of them go through a beech wood, like a blue wave, picking up the sprouting beechnuts. those in the rear would be constantly flying over those in front, so that the effect was that of a vast billow of mingled white and blue and brown, rustling and murmuring as it went. one spring afternoon vast flocks of them were passing south over our farm for hours, when some of them began to pour down in the beech woods on the hill by the roadside. a part of nearly every flock that streamed by would split off and, with a downward wheel and rush, join those in the wood. presently i seized the old musket and ran out in the road, and then crept up behind the wall, till only the width of the road separated me from the swarms of fluttering pigeons. the air and the woods were literally blue with them, and the ground seemed a yard deep with them. i pointed my gun across the wall at the surging masses, and then sat there spellbound. the sound of their wings and voices filled my ears, and their numbers more than filled my eyes. why i did not shoot was never very clear to me. maybe i thought the world was all turning to pigeons, as they still came pouring down from the heavens, and i did not want to break the spell. there i sat waiting, waiting, with my eye looking along the gun-barrel, till, suddenly, the mass rose like an explosion, and with a rush and a roar they were gone. then i came to my senses and with keen mortification realized what an opportunity i had let slip. such a chance never came again, though the last great flight of pigeons did not take place till . when i was about ten or twelve, a spell was put upon me by a red fox in a similar way. the baying of a hound upon the mountain had drawn me there, armed with the same old musket. it was a chilly day in early december. i took up my stand in the woods near what i thought might be the runway, and waited. after a while i stood the butt of my gun upon the ground, and held the barrel with my hand. presently i heard a rustle in the leaves, and there came a superb fox loping along past me, not fifty feet away. he was evidently not aware of my presence, and, as for me, i was aware of his presence alone. i forgot that i had a gun, that here was the game i was in quest of, and that now was my chance to add to my store of silver quarters. as the unsuspecting fox disappeared over a knoll, again i came to my senses, and brought my gun to my shoulder; but it was too late, the game had gone. i returned home full of excitement at what i had seen, and gave as the excuse why i did not shoot, that i had my mitten on, and could not reach the trigger of my gun. it is true i had my mitten on, but there was a mitten, or something, on my wits also. it was years before i heard the last of that mitten; when i failed at anything they said, "john had his mitten on, i guess." i remember that i had a sort of cosmogony of my own when i was a mere boy. i used to speculate as to what the world was made of. partly closing my eyes, i could see what appeared to be little crooked chains of fine bubbles floating in the air, and i concluded that that was the stuff the world was made of. and the philosophers have not yet arrived at a much more satisfactory explanation. in thinking of my childhood and youth i try to define to myself wherein i differed from my brothers and from other boys in the neighborhood, or wherein i showed any indication of the future bent of my mind. i see that i was more curious and alert than most boys, and had more interests outside my special duties as a farm boy. i knew pretty well the ways of the wild bees and hornets when i was only a small lad. i knew the different bumblebees, and had made a collection of their combs and honey before i had entered my teens. i had watched the little frogs, the hylas, and had captured them and held them till they piped sitting in my hand. i had watched the leaf-cutters and followed them to their nests in an old rail, or under a stone. i see that i early had an interest in the wild life about me that my brothers did not have. i was a natural observer from childhood, had a quick, sure eye and ear, and an eager curiosity. i loved to roam the hills and woods and prowl along the streams, just to come in contact with the wild and the adventurous. i was not sent to sunday-school, but was allowed to spend the day as i saw fit, provided i did not carry a gun or a fishing-rod. indeed, the foundation of my knowledge of the ways of the wild creatures was laid when i was a farm boy, quite unconscious of the natural-history value of my observations. what, or who, as i grew up, gave my mind its final push in this direction would not be easy to name. it is quite certain that i got it through literature, and more especially through the works of audubon, when i was twenty-five or twenty-six years of age. the sentiment of nature is so full and winsome in the best modern literature that i was no doubt greatly influenced by it. i was early drawn to wordsworth and to our own emerson and thoreau, and to the nature articles in the "atlantic monthly," and my natural-history tastes were stimulated by them. i have a suspicion that "nature-study" as now followed in the schools--or shall i say in the colleges?--this classroom peeping and prying into the mechanism of life, dissecting, probing, tabulating, void of free observation, and shut away from the open air--would have cured me of my love of nature. for love is the main thing, the prime thing, and to train the eye and ear and acquaint one with the spirit of the great-out-of-doors, rather than a lot of minute facts about nature, is, or should be, the object of nature-study. who cares about the anatomy of the frog? but to know the live frog--his place in the season and the landscape, and his life-history--is something. if i wanted to instill the love of nature into a child's heart, i should do it, in the first place, through country life, and, in the next place, through the best literature, rather than through classroom investigations, or through books of facts about the mere mechanics of nature. biology is all right for the few who wish to specialize in that branch, but for the mass of pupils, it is a waste of time. love of nature cannot be commanded or taught, but in some minds it can be stimulated. sweet were the days of my youth! how i love to recall them and dwell upon them!--a world apart, separated from the present by a gulf like that of sidereal space. the old farm bending over the hills and dipping down into the valleys, the woods, the streams, the springs, the mountains, and father and mother under whose wings i was so protected, and all my brothers and sisters-how precious the thought of them all! can the old farm ever mean to future boys what it meant to me, and enter so deeply into their lives? no doubt it can, hard as it is to believe it. the "bundle place," the "barn on the hill," the "deacon woods," the clover meadow, the "turn in the road," the burying-ground, the sheep-lot, the bush-lot, the sumac-lot, the "new-barn meadow," the "old-barn meadow," and so on through the list--each field and section of the farm had to me an atmosphere and association of its own. the long, smooth, broad hill--a sort of thigh of the mountain (old clump) upon the lower edge of which the house is planted--shut off the west and southwest winds; its fields were all amenable to the plough, yielding good crops of oats, rye, buckwheat, potatoes, or, when in grass, yielding good pasture, divided east and west by parallel stone walls; this hill, or lower slope of the mountain, was one of the principal features of the farm. it was steep, but it was smooth; it was broad-backed and fertile; its soil was made up mainly of decomposed old red sandstone. how many times have i seen its different sections grow ruddy under the side-hill plough! one of my earliest recollections of my father is seeing him, when i was a child of three or four, striding across the middle side-hill lot with a bag slung across his breast, scattering the seed-grain. how often at early nightfall, while the west was yet glowing, have i seen the grazing cattle silhouetted against the sky. in the winter the northwest winds would sweep the snow clean from the other side, and bring it over to our side and leave it in a long, huge drift that buried the fences and gave the hill an extra full-breasted appearance. the breast of the old hill would be padded with ten or fifteen feet of snow. this drift would often last till may. i have seen it stop the plough. i remember once carrying a jug of water up to brother curtis when his plough was within a few feet of the snow. woodchucks would sometimes feel the spring through this thick coverlid of snow and bore up through it to the sunlight. i think the woodchuck's alarm clock always goes off before april is done, and he comes forth, apparently not to break his long fast, but to find his mate. i remember working in oats in the middle side-hill lot one september during the early years of the civil war, when hiram was talking of enlisting as a drummer, and when father and mother were much worried about it. i carried together the sheaves, putting fifteen in a "shock." i have heard my father tell of a curious incident that once befell his hired man and himself when they were drawing in oats on a sled from the first side-hill lot. they had on a load, and the hired man had thrust his fork into the upper sides of it and was bringing his weight to bear against its tendency to capsize. but gravity got the better of them and over went the load; the hired man (rueb dart) clung to his fork, and swung over the load through the air, alighting on his feet none the worse for the adventure. the spring that supplies the house and the dairy with water comes from the middle side-hill lot, some forty or fifty rods from the house, and is now brought down in pipes; in my time, in pump-logs. it was always an event when the old logs had to be taken up and new ones put down. i saw the logs renewed twice in my time; once poplar logs were used, and once hemlock, both rather short-lived. a man from a neighboring town used to come with his long auger and bore the logs--a spectacle i was never tired of looking at. then the sap bush in the groin of the hill, and but a few minutes' walk from the house, what a feature that was! in winter and in summer, what delightful associations i have with it! i know each of its great sugar maples as i know my friends or the members of the family. each has a character of its own, and in sap-producing capacity they differ greatly. a fringe of the great trees stood out in the open fields; these were the earliest to run. in early march we used to begin to make ready for sugar-making by overhauling the sap "spiles," resharpening the old ones, and making new ones. the old-fashioned awkward sap-gouge was used in tapping in those days, and the "spiles" or spouts were split out of basswood blocks with this gouge, and then sharpened so as to fit the half-round gash which the gouge made in the tree. the dairy milk-pans were used to catch the sap, and huge iron kettles to boil it down in. when the day came to tap the bush, the caldrons, the hogsheads, and the two hundred or more pans with the bundles of spiles were put upon the sled and drawn by the oxen up to the boiling-place in the sap bush. father and brother hiram did the tapping, using an axe to cut the gash in the tree, and to drive in the gouge below it to make a place for the spile, while one of my younger brothers and i carried the pans and placed them in position. it was always a glad time with me; the early birds were singing and calling, the snowbanks were melting, the fields were getting bare, the roads drying, and spring tokens were on every hand. we gathered the sap by hand in those days, two pails and a neck-yoke. it was sturdy work. we would usually begin about three or four o'clock, and by five have the one hundred and fifty pailfuls of sap in the hogsheads. when the sap ran all night, we would begin the gathering in the morning. the syruping-off usually took place at the end of the second day's boiling, when two or three hundred pailfuls of sap had been reduced to four or five of syrup. in the march or april twilight, or maybe after dark, we would carry those heavy pails of syrup down to the house, where the liquid was strained while still hot. the reduction of it to sugar was done upon the kitchen stove, from three hundred to five hundred pounds being about the average annual yield. the bright warm days at the boiling-place i love best to remember; the robins running about over the bare ground or caroling from the treetops, the nuthatches calling, the crows walking about the brown fields, the bluebirds flitting here and there, the cows lowing or restless in the barnyard. when i think of the storied lands across the atlantic,--england, france, germany, italy, so rich in historical associations, steeped in legend and poetry, the very look of the fields redolent of the past,--and then turn to my own native hills, how poor and barren they seem!--not one touch anywhere of that which makes the charm of the old world--no architecture, no great names; in fact, no past. they look naked and prosy, yet how i love them and cling to them! they are written over with the lives of the first settlers that cleared the fields and built the stone walls--simple, common-place lives, worthy and interesting, but without the appeal of heroism or adventure. the land here is old, geologically, dating back to the devonian age, the soil in many places of decomposed old red sandstone; but it is new in human history, having been settled only about one hundred and fifty years. time has worn down the hills and mountains so that all the outlines of the country are gentle and flowing. the valleys are long, open, and wide; the hills broad and smooth, no angles or abruptness, or sharp contrasts anywhere. hence it is not what is called a picturesque land--full of bits of scenery that make the artist's fingers itch. the landscape has great repose and gentleness, so far as long, sweeping lines and broad, smooth slopes can give this impression. it is a land which has never suffered violence at the hands of the interior terrestrial forces; nothing is broken or twisted or contorted or thrust out or up abruptly. the strata are all horizontal, and the steepest mountain-slopes clothed with soil that nourishes large forest growths. i stayed at home, working on the farm in summer and going to school in winter, till i was seventeen. from the time i was fourteen i had had a desire to go away to school. i had a craving for knowledge which my brothers did not share. one fall when i was about fifteen i had the promise from father that i might go to school at the academy in the village that winter. but i did not go. then the next fall i had the promise of going to the academy at harpersfield, where one of the neighbor's boys, dick van dyke, went. how i dreamed of harpersfield! that fall i did my first ploughing, stimulated to it by the promise of harpersfield. it was in september, in the lot above the sugar bush--cross-ploughing, to prepare the ground for rye. how many days i ploughed, i do not remember; but harpersfield was the lure at the end of each furrow, i remember that. to this day i cannot hear the name without seeing a momentary glow upon my mental horizon--a finger of enchantment is for an instant laid upon me. but i did not go to harpersfield. when the time drew near for me to go, father found himself too poor, or the expense looked too big--none of the other boys had had such privileges, and why should i? so i swallowed my disappointment and attended the home district school for another winter. yet i am not sure but i went to harpersfield after all. the desire, the yearning to go, the effort to make myself worthy to go, the mental awakening, and the high dreams, were the main matter. i doubt if the reality would have given me anything more valuable than these things. the aspiration for knowledge opens the doors of the mind and makes ready for her coming. these were my first and last days at the plough, and they made that field memorable to me. i never cross it now but i see myself there--a callow youth being jerked by the plough-handles but with my head in a cloud of alluring day-dreams. this, i think, was in the fall of . i went to school that winter with a view to leaving home in the spring to try my luck at school-teaching in an adjoining county. many roxbury boys had made their first start in the world by going to ulster county to teach a country school. i would do the same. so, late in march, , about the end of the sugar season, i set out for olive, ulster county. an old neighbor, dr. hull, lived there, and i would seek him. there was only a stage-line at that time connecting the two counties, and that passed twelve miles from my home. my plan was to cross the mountain into red kill to uncle martin kelly's, pass the night there, and in the morning go to clovesville, three miles distant, and take the stage. how well i remember that walk across the mountain in a snow-squall through which the sun shone dimly, a black oilcloth satchel in my hand, and in my heart vague yearnings and forebodings! i had but a few dollars in my pocket, probably six or seven, most of which i had earned by selling maple sugar. father was willing i should go, though my help was needed on the farm. well, i traversed the eight miles to my uncle's in good time, and in the morning he drove me down to the turnpike to take the stage. i remember well my anxious and agitated state of mind while waiting at the hotel for the arrival of the stage. i had never ridden in one, i am not sure that i had even seen one, and i did not know just what was expected of me, or just how i should deport myself. an untraveled farm boy at seventeen is such a vague creature anyway, and i was, in addition, such a bundle of sensibilities, timidities, and embarrassments as few farm boys are. i paid my fare at the hotel at the rate of a sixpence a mile for about thirty-two miles, and when the stage came, saw my name entered upon the "waybill," and got aboard with a beating heart. of that first ride of my life in a public conveyance, i remember little. the stage was one of those old-fashioned rocking concord coaches, drawn by four horses. we soon left the snow-clad hills of delaware county behind, and dropped down into the milder climate of ulster, where no snow was to be seen. about three in the afternoon the stage put me down at terry's tavern on the "plank-road" in olive. i inquired the way to dr. hull's and found the walk of about a mile an agreeable change. the doctor and his wife welcomed me cordially. they were old friends of my family. i spent a day with them, riding about with the doctor on his visits to patients, and making inquiries for a school in want of a teacher. on the third day we heard of a vacancy in a district in the west end of the town, seven or eight miles distant, called tongore. hither i walked one day, saw the trustees, and made my application. i suspect my youth and general greenness caused them to hesitate; they would consider and let me know inside of a week. so, in a day or two, hearing of no other vacancies, i returned home the same way i had come. it was the first day of april when i made the return trip. i remember this because at one of the hotels where we changed horses i saw a copper cent lying upon the floor, and, stooping to pick it up, found it nailed fast. the bartender and two or three other spectators had a quiet chuckle at my expense. before the week was out a letter came from the tongore trustees saying i could have the school; wages, ten dollars the first month, and, if i proved satisfactory, eleven for the other five months, and "board around." i remember the handwriting of that letter as if i had received it but yesterday. "come at your earliest opportunity." how vividly i recall the round hand in which those words were written! i replied that i would be on hand the next week, ready to open school on monday, the th. again i took the stage, my father driving me twelve miles to dimmock's corners to meet it, a trip which he made with me many times in after years. mother always getting up and preparing our breakfast long before daylight. we were always in a more or less anxious frame of mind upon the road lest we be too late for the stage, but only once during the many trips did we miss it. on that occasion it had passed a few minutes before we arrived, but, knowing it stopped for breakfast at griffin's corners, four or five miles beyond, i hastened on afoot, running most of the way, and arrived in sight of it just as the driver had let off the first crack from his whip to start his reluctant horses. my shouting was quickly passed to him by the onlookers, he pulled up, and i won the race quite out of breath. on the present occasion we were in ample time, and my journey ended at shokan, from which place i walked the few miles to tongore, in the late april afternoon. the little frogs were piping, and i remember how homesick the familiar spring sound made me. as i walked along the road near sundown with this sound in my ears, i saw coming toward me a man with a gait as familiar as was the piping of the frogs. he turned out to be our neighbor warren scudder, and how delighted i was to see him in that lonesome land! he had sold a yoke of oxen down there and had been down to deliver them. the home ties pulled very strongly at sight of him. warren's three boys, reub and jack and smith, were our nearest boy neighbors. his father, old deacon scudder, was one of the notable characters of the town. warren himself had had some varied experiences. he was one of the leaders in the anti-rent war of ten years before. indeed, he was chief of the band of "indians" that shot steel, the sheriff, at andes, and it was charged that the bullet from his pistol was the one that did the fatal work. at any rate, he had had to flee the country, escaping concealed in a peddler's cart, while close pressed by the posse. he went south and was absent several years. after the excitement of the murder and the struggle between the two factions had died down, he returned and was not molested. and here he was in the april twilight, on my path to tongore, and the sight of him cheered my heart. i began my school monday morning, april the th, , and continued it for six months, teaching the common branches to twenty or thirty pupils from the ages of six to twelve or thirteen. i can distinctly recall the faces of many of those boys and girls to this day--jane north, a slender, clean-cut girl of ten or eleven; elizabeth mcclelland, a fat, freckled girl of twelve; alice twilliger, a thin, talkative girl with a bulging forehead. two or three of the boys became soldiers in the civil war, and fell in the battle of gettysburg. (in april, , mr. burroughs received the following: "hearty congratulations upon your seventy-fifth birthday, from your old tongore pupil of many years ago. r--b--.") i "boarded round," going home with the children as they invited me. i was always put in the spare room, and usually treated to warm biscuit and pie for supper. a few families were very poor, and there i was lucky to get bread and potatoes. in one house i remember the bedstead was very shaky, and in the middle of the night, as i turned over, it began to sway and lurch, and presently all went down in a heap. but i clung to the wreck till morning, and said nothing about it then. i remember that a notable eclipse of the sun occurred that spring on the th of may, when the farmers were planting their corn. what books i read that summer i cannot recall. yes, i recall one--"the complete letter-writer," which i bought of a peddler, and upon which i modeled many of my letters to various persons, among others to a roxbury girl for whom i had a mild fancy. my first letter to a girl i wrote to her, and a ridiculously stiff, formal, and awkward letter it was, i assure you. i am positive i addressed her as "dear madam," and started off with some sentence from "the complete letter-writer," so impressed was i that there was a best way to do this thing, and that the book pointed it out. mary's reply was, "to my absent, but not forgotten friend," and was simple and natural as girls' letters usually are. my grandfather kelly died that season, and i recall that i wrote a letter of condolence to my people, modeled upon one in the book. how absurd and stilted and unreal it must have sounded to them! oh, how crude and callow and obtuse i was at that time, full of vague and tremulous aspirations and awakenings, but undisciplined, uninformed, with many inherited incapacities and obstacles to weigh me down. i was extremely bashful, had no social aptitude, and was likely to stutter when anxious or embarrassed, yet i seem to have made a good impression. i was much liked in school and out, and was fairly happy. i seem to see sunshine over all when i look back there. but it was a long summer to me. i had never been from home more than a day or two at a time before, and i became very homesick. oh, to walk in the orchard back of the house, or along the road, or to see the old hills again--what a joy it would have been! but i stuck it out till my term ended in october, and then went home, taking a young fellow from the district (a brother of some girls i fancied) with me. i took back nearly all my wages, over fifty dollars, and with this i planned to pay my way at hedding literary institute, in the adjoining county of greene, during the coming winter term. i left home for the school late in november, riding the thirty miles with father, atop a load of butter. it was the time of year when the farmers took their butter to catskill. father usually made two trips. this was the first one of the season, and i accompanied him as far as ashland, where the institute was located. i remained at school there three months, the length of the winter term, and studied fairly hard. i had a room by myself and enjoyed the life with the two hundred or more boys and girls of my own age. i studied algebra, geometry, chemistry, french, and logic, wrote compositions, and declaimed in the chapel, as the rules required. it was at this time that i first read milton. we had to parse in "paradise lost," and i recall how i was shocked and astonished by that celestial warfare. i told one of my classmates that i did not believe a word of it. among my teachers was a young, delicate, wide-eyed man who in later life became well known as bishop hurst, of the methodist church. he heard our small class in logic at seven o'clock in the morning, in a room that was never quite warmed by the newly kindled fire. i don't know how i came to study logic (whately's). i had never heard of such a study before; maybe that is why i chose it. i got little out of it. what an absurd study, taught, as it was, as an aid to argumentation!--like teaching a man to walk by explaining to him the mechanism of walking. the analysis of one sound argument, or of one weak one, in terms of common sense, is worth any amount of such stuff. but it was of a piece with grammar and rhetoric as then taught--all preposterous studies viewed as helps toward correct writing and speaking. think of our parsing milton as an aid to mastering the english language! i remember i stood fairly high in composition--only one boy in the school ahead of me, and that was herman coons, to whom i became much attached, and who became a methodist minister. he went home with me during the holiday vacation. after leaving school we corresponded for several years, and then lost track of each other. i do not know that there is one of my school-mates of that time now living. i know of none that became eminent in any field. one of the boys was fatally injured that winter while coasting. i remember sitting up with him many nights and ministering to him. he died in a few weeks. it was an event when father and mother came to visit me for a few hours, and mother brought me some mince pies. what feasts two or three other boys and i had in my room over those home-made pies! toward spring we had a public debate in the chapel, and i was chosen as one of the disputants. we debated the question of the crimean war, which was on then. i was on the side of england and france against russia. our side won. i think i spoke very well. i remember that i got much of my ammunition from a paper in "harper's magazine," probably by dr. osgood. it seems my fellow on the affirmative had got much of his ammunition from the same source, and, as i spoke first, there was not much powder left for him, and he was greatly embarrassed. what insignificant things one remembers in a world of small events! i recall how one morning when we had all gathered in chapel for prayers, none of the professors appeared on the platform but our french teacher, and, as praying for us was not one of his duties, he hurried off to find some one to perform that function, while we all sat and giggled. in the spring of , with eight or ten dollars in my pocket which father had advanced me, i made my first visit to new york by steamer from catskill, on my way to new jersey in quest of a position as school-teacher. three of our neighborhood boys were then teaching in or near plainfield, and i sought them out, having my first ride on the cars on that trip from jersey city. as i sat there in my seat waiting for the train to start, i remember i actually wondered if the starting would be so sudden as to jerk my hat off! i was too late to find a vacancy in any of the schools in the districts i visited. on one occasion i walked from somerville twelve miles to a village where there was a vacancy, but the trustees, after looking me over, concluded i was too young and inexperienced for their large school. that night the occultation of venus by the moon took place. i remember gazing at it long and long. on my return in may i stopped in new york and spent a day prowling about the second-hand bookstalls, and spent so much of my money for books that i had only enough left to carry me to griffin's corners, twelve miles from home. i bought locke's "essay on the human understanding," dr. johnson's works, saint-pierre's "studies of nature," and dick's works and others. dick was a scottish philosopher whose two big fat volumes held something that caught my mind as i dipped into them. but i got little from him and soon laid him aside. on this and other trips to new york i was always drawn by the second-hand bookstalls. how i hovered about them, how good the books looked, how i wanted them all! to this day, when i am passing them, the spirit of those days lays its hand upon me, and i have to pause a few moments and, half-dreaming, half-longing, run over the titles. nearly all my copies of the english classics i have picked up at these curbstone stalls. how much more they mean to me than new books of later years! here, for instance, are two volumes of dr. johnson's works in good leather binding, library style, which i have carried with me from one place to another for over fifty years, and which in my youth i read and reread, and the style of which i tried to imitate before i was twenty. when i dip into "the rambler" and "the idler" now how dry and stilted and artificial their balanced sentences seem! yet i treasure them for what they once were to me. in my first essay in the "atlantic," forty-six years ago (in ), i said that johnson's periods acted like a lever of the third kind, and that the power applied always exceeded the weight raised; and this comparison seems to hit the mark very well. i did not read boswell's life of him till much later. in his conversation johnson got the fulcrum in the right place. i reached home on the twentieth of may with an empty pocket and an empty stomach, but with a bagful of books. i remember the day because the grass was green, but the air was full of those great "goose-feather" flakes of snow which sometimes fall in late may. i stayed home that summer of ' and worked on the farm, and pored over my books when i had a chance. i must have found locke's "essay" pretty tough reading, but i remember buckling to it, getting right down on "all fours," as one has to, to follow locke. i think it was that summer that i read my first novel, "charlotte temple," and was fairly intoxicated with it. it let loose a flood of emotion in me. i remember finishing it one morning and then going out to work in the hay-field, and how the homely and familiar scenes fairly revolted me. i dare say the story took away my taste for locke and johnson for a while. in early september i again turned my face jerseyward in quest of a school, but stopped on my way in olive to visit friends in tongore. the school there, since i had left it, had fared badly. one of the teachers the boys had turned out of doors, and the others had "failed to give satisfaction"; so i was urged to take the school again. the trustees offered to double my wages--twenty-two dollars a month. after some hesitation i gave up the jersey scheme and accepted the trustees' offer. it was during that second term of teaching at tongore that i first met ursula north, who later became my wife. her uncle was one of the trustees of the school, and i presume it was this connection that brought her to the place and led to our meeting. if i had gone on to jersey in that fall of ' , my life might have been very different in many ways. i might have married some other girl, might have had a large family of children, and the whole course of my life might have been greatly changed. it frightens me now to think that i might have missed the washington life, and whitman,... and much else that has counted for so much with me. what i might have gained is, in the scale, like imponderable air. i read my johnson and locke that winter and tried to write a little in the johnsonese buckram style. the young man to-day, under the same conditions, would probably spend his evenings reading novels or the magazines. i spent mine poring over "the rambler." in april i closed the school and went home, again taking a young fellow with me. i was then practically engaged to ursula north, and i wrote her a poem on reaching home. about the middle of april i left home for cooperstown seminary. i rode to moresville with jim bouton, and as the road between there and stamford was so blocked with snowdrifts that the stage could not run, i was compelled to walk the eight miles, leaving my trunk behind. from stamford i reached cooperstown after an all-night ride by stage. my summer at cooperstown was an enjoyable and a profitable one. i studied latin, french, english literature, algebra, and geometry. if i remember correctly, i stood first in composition over the whole school. i joined the websterian society and frequently debated, and was one of the three or four orators chosen by the school to "orate" in a grove on the shore of the lake, on the fourth of july. i held forth in the true spread-eagle style. i entered into the sports of the school, ball-playing and rowing on the lake, with the zest of youth. one significant thing i remember: i was always on the lookout for books of essays. it was at this time that i took my first bite into emerson, and it was like tasting a green apple--not that he was unripe, but i wasn't ripe for him. but a year later i tasted him again, and said, "why, this tastes good"; and took a bigger bite; then soon devoured everything of his i could find. i say i was early on the lockout for books of essays, and i wanted the essay to begin, not in a casual way by some remark in the first person, but by the annunciation of some general truth, as most of dr. johnson's did. i think i bought dick's works on the strength of his opening sentence--"man is a compound being." as one's mind develops, how many changes in taste he passes through! about the time of which i am now writing, pope was my favorite poet. his wit and common sense appealed to me. young's "night thoughts" also struck me as very grand. whipple seemed to me a much greater writer than emerson. shakespeare i did not come to appreciate till years later, and chaucer and spenser i have never learned to care for. i am sure the growth of my literary taste has been along the right lines--from the formal and the complex, to the simple and direct. now, the less the page seems written, that is, the more natural and instinctive it is, other things being equal, the more it pleases me. i would have the author take no thought of his style, as such; yet if his sentences are clothed like the lilies of the field, so much the better. unconscious beauty that flows inevitably and spontaneously out of the subject, or out of the writer's mind, how it takes us! my own first attempts at writing were, of course, crude enough. it took me a long time to put aside all affectation and make-believe, if i have ever quite succeeded in doing it, and get down to what i really saw and felt. but i think now i can tell dead wood in my writing when i see it--tell when i fumble in my mind, or when my sentences glance off and fail to reach the quick. (in august, , mr. burroughs wrote me of a visit to cooperstown, after all these years: "i found cooperstown not much changed. the lake and the hills were, of course, the same as i had known them forty-six years ago, and the main street seemed but little altered. of the old seminary only the foundations were standing, and the trees had so grown about it that i hardly knew the place. i again dipped my oar in the lake, again stood beside cooper's grave, and threaded some of the streets i had known so well. i wished i could have been alone there.... i wanted to muse and dream, and invoke the spirit of other days, but the spirits would not rise in the presence of strangers. i could not quite get a glimpse of the world as it appeared to me in those callow days. it was here that i saw my first live author (spoken of in my 'egotistical chapter') and first dipped into emerson." after leaving the seminary at cooperstown in july of , the young student worked on the home farm in the catskills until fall, when he began teaching school at buffalo grove, illinois, where he taught until the following spring, returning east to marry, as he says, "the girl i left behind me." he then taught in various schools in new york and new jersey, until the fall of . as a rule, in the summer he worked on the home farm. during this period he was reading much, and trying his hand at writing. there was a short intermission in his teaching, when he invested his earnings in a patent buckle, and for a brief period he had dreams of wealth. but the buckle project failed, the dreams vanished, and he began to read medicine, and resumed his teaching. from to he was writing much, on philosophical subjects mainly. it was in that he first became interested in the birds.--c. b.) ever since the time when in my boyhood i saw the strange bird in the woods of which i have told you, the thought had frequently occurred to me, "i shall know the birds some day." but nothing came of the thought and wish till the spring of ' , when i was teaching school near west point. in the library of the military academy, which i frequently visited of a saturday, i chanced upon the works of audubon. i took fire at once. it was like bringing together fire and powder! i was ripe for the adventure; i had leisure, i was in a good bird country, and i had audubon to stimulate me, as well as a collection of mounted birds belonging to the academy for reference. how eagerly and joyously i took up the study! it fitted in so well with my country tastes and breeding; it turned my enthusiasm as a sportsman into a new channel; it gave to my walks a new delight; it made me look upon every grove and wood as a new storehouse of possible treasures. i could go fishing or camping or picknicking now with my resources for enjoyment doubled. that first hooded warbler that i discovered and identified in a near-by bushy field one sunday morning--shall i ever forget the thrill of delight it gave me? and when in august i went with three friends into the adirondacks, no day or place or detention came amiss to me; new birds were calling and flitting on every hand; a new world was opened to me in the midst of the old. at once i was moved to write about the birds, and i began my first paper, "the return of the birds," that fall, and finished it in washington, whither i went in october, and where i lived for ten years. writing about the birds and always treating them in connection with the season and their environment, was, while i was a government clerk, a kind of vacation. it enabled me to live over again my days amid the sweet rural things and influences. the paper just referred to is, as you may see, mainly written out of my memories as a farm boy. the enthusiasm which audubon had begotten in me quickened and gave value to all my youthful experiences and observations of the birds. (this brings us to the time when our subject is fairly launched on early manhood. he has regular employment--a clerkship in the office of the comptroller of the currency, which, if not especially congenial in itself, affords him leisure to do the things he most wishes to do. he is even now growing in strength and efficiency as an essayist.--c. b.) self-analysis march, my dear friend,-- you once asked me how, considering my antecedents and youthful environment, i accounted for myself; what sent me to nature, and to writing about her, and to literature generally. i wish i could answer you satisfactorily, but i fear i cannot. i do not know, myself; i can only guess at it. i have always looked upon myself as a kind of sport; i came out of the air quite as much as out of my family. all my weaknesses and insufficiencies--and there are a lot of them--are inherited, but of my intellectual qualities, there is not much trace in my immediate forbears. no scholars or thinkers or lovers of books, or men of intellectual pursuits for several generations back of me--all obscure farmers or laborers in humble fields, rather grave, religiously inclined men, i gather, sober, industrious, good citizens, good neighbors, correct livers, but with no very shining qualities. my four brothers were of this stamp--home-bodies, rather timid, non-aggressive men, somewhat below the average in those qualities and powers that insure worldly success--the kind of men that are so often crowded to the wall. i can see myself in some of them, especially in hiram, who had daydreams, who was always going west, but never went; who always wanted some plaything--fancy sheep or pigs or poultry; who was a great lover of bees and always kept them; who was curious about strange lands, but who lost heart and hope as soon as he got beyond the sight of his native hills; and who usually got cheated in every bargain he made. perhaps it is because i see myself in him that hiram always seemed nearer to me than any of the rest. i have at times his vagueness, his indefiniteness, his irresolution, and his want of spirit when imposed upon. poor hiram! one fall in his simplicity he took his fancy cotswold sheep to the state fair at syracuse, never dreaming but that a farmer entirely outside of all the rings and cliques, and quite unknown, could get the prize if his stock was the best. i can see him now, hanging about the sheep-pens, homesick, insignificant, unnoticed, living on cake and pie, and wondering why a prize label was not put upon his sheep. poor hiram! well, he marched up the hill with his sheep, and then he marched down again, a sadder and, i hope, a wiser man. once he ordered a fancy rifle, costing upwards of a hundred dollars, of a gunsmith in utica. when the rifle came, it did not suit him, was not according to specifications; so he sent it back. not long after that the man failed and no rifle came, and the money was not returned. then hiram concluded to make a journey out there. i was at home at the time, and can see him yet as he started off along the road that june day, off for utica on foot. again he marched up the hill, and then marched down, and no rifle or money ever came. for years he had the western fever, and kept his valise under his bed packed ready for the trip. once he actually started and got as far as white pigeon, michigan. there his courage gave out, and he came back. still he kept his valise packed, but the end of his life's journey came before he was ready to go west again. hiram, as you know, came to live with me at slabsides during the last years of his life. he had made a failure of it on the old farm, after i had helped him purchase it; nearly everything had gone wrong, indoors and out; and he was compelled to give it up. so he brought his forty or more skips of bees to west park and lived with me, devoting himself, not very successfully, to bee-culture. he loved to "fuss" with bees. i think the money he got for his honey looked a little more precious to him than other money, just as the silver quarters i used to get when a boy for the maple sugar i made had a charm and a value no quarters have ever had in my eyes since. that thing in hiram that was so appealed to by his bee-culture, and by any fancy strain of sheep or poultry, is strong in me, too, and has played an important part in my life. if i had not taken it out in running after wild nature and writing about it i should probably have been a bee-man, or a fancy-stock farmer. as it is, i have always been a bee-lover, and have usually kept several swarms. ordinary farming is prosy and tiresome compared with bee-farming. combined with poultry-raising, it always had special attractions for me. when i was a farm boy of twelve or thirteen years, one of our neighbors had a breed of chickens with large topknots that filled my eye completely. my brother and i used to hang around the chase henyard for hours, admiring and longing for those chickens. the impression those fowls made upon me seems as vivid to-day as it was when first made. the topknot was the extra touch--the touch of poetry that i have always looked for in things, and that hiram, in his way, craved and sought for, too. there was something, too, in my maternal grandfather that probably foreshadowed the nature-lover and nature-writer. in him it took the form of a love of angling, and a love for the bible. he went from the book to the stream, and from the stream to the book, with great regularity. i do not remember that he ever read the newspapers, or any other books than the bible and the hymn-book. when he was over eighty years, old he would woo the trout-streams with great success, and between times would pore over the book till his eyes were dim. i do not think he ever joined the church, or ever made an open profession of religion, as was the wont in those days; but he had the religious nature which he nursed upon the bible. when a mere boy, as i have before told you, he was a soldier under washington, and when the war of broke out, and one of his sons was drafted, he was accepted and went in his stead. the half-wild, adventurous life of the soldier suited him better than the humdrum of the farm. from him, as i have said, i get the dash of celtic blood in my veins--that almost feminine sensibility and tinge of melancholy that, i think, shows in all my books. that emotional celt, ineffectual in some ways, full of longings and impossible dreams, of quick and noisy anger, temporizing, revolutionary, mystical, bold in words, timid in action--surely that man is in me, and surely he comes from my revolutionary ancestor, grandfather kelly. i think of the burroughs branch of my ancestry as rather retiring, peace-loving, solitude-loving men--men not strongly sketched in on the canvas of life, not self-assertive, never roistering or uproarious--law-abiding, and church-going. i gather this impression from many sources, and think it is a correct one. oh, the old farm days! how the fragrance of them still lingers in my heart! the spring with its farm, the returning birds, and the full, lucid trout-streams; the summer with its wild berries, its haying, its cool, fragrant woods; the fall with its nuts, its game, its apple-gathering, its holidays; the winter with its school, its sport on ice and snow, its apple-bins in the cellar, its long nights by the fireside, its voice of fox-bounds on the mountains, its sound of flails in the barn--how much i still dream about these things! but i am slow in keeping my promise to try to account for myself. yet all these things are a part of my antecedents; they entered into my very blood--father and mother and brothers and sisters, and the homely life of the farm, all entered into and became a part of that which i am. i am certain, as i have told you before, that i derived more from my mother than from my father. i have more of her disposition--her yearning, breeding nature, her subdued and neutral tones, her curiosity, her love of animals, and of wild nature generally. father was neither a hunter nor a fisherman, and, i think, was rarely conscious of the beauty of nature around him. the texture of his nature was much less fine than that of mother's, and he was a much easier problem to read; he was as transparent as glass. mother had more of the stuff of poetry in her soul, and a deeper, if more obscure, background to her nature. that which makes a man a hunter or a fisherman simply sent her forth in quest of wild berries. what a berry-picker she was! how she would work to get the churning out of the way so she could go out to the berry lot! it seemed to heal and refresh her to go forth in the hill meadows for strawberries, or in the old bushy bark-peelings for raspberries. the last work she did in the world was to gather a pail of blackberries as she returned one september afternoon from a visit to my sister's, less than a mile away. i am as fond of going forth for berries as my mother was, even to this day. every june i must still make one or two excursions to distant fields for wild strawberries, or along the borders of the woods for black raspberries, and i never go without thinking of mother. you could not see all that i bring home with me in my pail on such occasions; if you could, you would see the traces of daisies and buttercups and bobolinks, and the blue skies, with thoughts of mother and the old home, that date from my youth. i usually eat some of the berries in bread and milk, as i was wont to do in the old days, and am, for the moment, as near a boy again as it is possible for me to be. (illustration of one of mr. burroughs's favorite seats, roxbury, new york. from a photograph by clifton johnson) no doubt my life as a farm boy has had much to do with my subsequent love of nature, and my feeling of kinship with all rural things. i feel at home with them; they are bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. it seems to me a man who was not born and reared in the country can hardly get nature into his blood, and establish such intimate and affectionate relations with her, as can the born countryman. we are so susceptible and so plastic in youth; we take things so seriously; they enter into and color and feed the very currents of our being. as a child i think i must have been more than usually fluid and impressionable, and that my affiliations with open-air life and objects were very hearty and thorough. as i grow old i am experiencing what, i suppose, all men experience, more or less; my subsequent days slough off, or fade away, more and more, leaving only the days of my youth as a real and lasting possession. when i began, in my twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth year, to write about the birds, i found that i had only to unpack the memories of the farm boy within me to get at the main things about the common ones. i had unconsciously absorbed the knowledge that gave the life and warmth to my page. take that farm boy out of my books, out of all the pages in which he is latent as well as visibly active, and you have robbed them of something vital and fundamental, you have taken from the soil much of its fertility. at least, so it seems to me, though in this business of self-analysis i know one may easily go far astray. it is probably quite impossible correctly to weigh and appraise the many and complex influences and elements that have entered into one's life. when i look back to that twilight of early youth, to that half-mythical borderland of the age of six or seven years, or even earlier, i can see but few things that, in the light of my subsequent life, have much significance. one is the impression made upon me by a redbird which the "hired girl" brought in from the woodpile, one day with a pail of chips. she had found the bird lying dead upon the ground. that vivid bit of color in the form of a bird has never faded from my mind, though i could not have been more than three or four years old. another bird incident, equally vivid, i have related in "wake-robin," in the chapter called "the invitation,"--the vision of the small bluish bird with a white spot on its wing, one sunday when i was six or seven years old, while roaming with my brothers in the "deacon woods" near home. the memory of that bird stuck to me as a glimpse of a world of birds that i knew not of. still another bird incident that is stamped upon my memory must have occurred about the same time. some of my brothers and an older boy neighbor and i were walking along a road in the woods when a brown bird flew down from a bush upon the ground in front of us. "a brown thrasher," the older boy said. it was doubtless either the veery, or the hermit thrush, and this was my first clear view of it. thus it appears that birds stuck to me, impressed me from the first. very early in my life the coming of the bluebird, the phoebe, the song sparrow, and the robin, in the spring, were events that stirred my emotions, and gave a new color to the day. when i had found a bluebird's nest in the cavity of a stump or a tree, i used to try to capture the mother bird by approaching silently and clapping my hand over the hole; in this i sometimes succeeded, though, of course, i never harmed the bird. i used to capture song sparrows in a similar way, by clapping my hat over the nest in the side of the bank along the road. i can see that i was early drawn to other forms of wild life, for i distinctly remember when a small urchin prying into the private affairs of the "peepers" in the marshes in early spring, sitting still a long time on a log in their midst, trying to spy out and catch them in the act of peeping. and this i succeeded in doing, discovering one piping from the top of a bulrush, to which he clung like a sailor to a mast; i finally allayed the fears of one i had captured till he sat in the palm of my hand and piped--a feat i have never been able to repeat since. i studied the ways of the bumblebees also, and had names of my own for all the different kinds. one summer i made it a point to collect bumblebee honey, and i must have gathered a couple of pounds. i found it very palatable, though the combs were often infested with parasites. the small red-banded bumblebees that lived in large colonies in holes in the ground afforded me the largest yields. a large bee, with a broad light-yellow band, was the ugliest customer to deal with. it was a fighter and would stick to its enemy like grim death, following me across the meadow and often getting in my hair, and a few times up my trousers leg, where i had it at as great a disadvantage as it had me. it could stab, and i could pinch, and one blow followed the other pretty rapidly. as a child i was always looked upon and spoken of as an "odd one" in the family, even by my parents. strangers, and relatives from a distance, visiting at the house, would say, after looking us all over, "that is not your boy," referring to me, "who is he?" and i am sure i used to look the embarrassment i felt at not being as the others were. i did not want to be set apart from them or regarded as an outsider. as this was before the days of photography, there are no pictures of us as children, so i can form no opinion of how i differed in my looks from the others. i remember hearing my parents say that i showed more of the kelly--mother's family. i early "took to larnin'," as father used to say, differing from my brothers and sisters in this respect. i quickly and easily distanced them all in the ordinary studies. i had gone through dayball's arithmetic while two of my older brothers were yet in addition. "larnin'" came very hard to all of them except to hiram and me, and hiram did not have an easy time of it, though he got through his dayball, and studied greenleaf's grammar. there was a library of a couple of dozen of volumes in the district, and i used to take home books from it. they were usually books of travel or of adventure. i remember one, especially, a great favorite, "murphy, the indian killer." i must have read this book several times. novels, or nature books, or natural-history books, were unknown in that library. i remember the "life of washington," and i am quite certain that it was a passage in this book that made a lasting impression upon me when i was not more than six or seven years old. i remember the impression, though i do not recall the substance of the passage. the incident occurred one sunday in summer when hiram and a cousin of ours and i were playing through the house, i carrying this book in my hand. from time to time i would stop and read this passage aloud, and i can remember, as if it were but yesterday, that i was so moved by it, so swept away by its eloquence, that, for a moment, i was utterly oblivious to everything around me. i was lifted out of myself, caught up in a cloud of feeling, and wafted i know not whither. my companions, being much older than i was, regarded not my reading. these exalted emotional states, similar to that just described, used occasionally to come to me under other conditions about this time, or later. i recall one such, one summer morning when i was walking on the top of a stone wall that ran across the summit of one of those broad-backed hills which you yourself know. i had in my hand a bit of a root of a tree that was shaped much like a pistol. as i walked along the toppling stones, i flourished this, and called and shouted and exulted and let my enthusiasm have free swing. it was a moment of supreme happiness. i was literally intoxicated; with what i do not know. i only remember that life seemed amazingly beautiful--i was on the crest of some curious wave of emotion, and my soul sparkled and flashed in the sunlight. i have haunted that old stone wall many times since that day, but i have never been able again to experience that thrill of joy and triumph. the cup of life does not spontaneously bead and sparkle in this way except in youth, and probably with many people it does not even then. but i know from what you have told me that you have had the experience. when one is trying to cipher out his past, and separate the factors that have played an important part in his life, such incidents, slight though they are, are significant. the day-dreams i used to indulge in when twelve or thirteen, while at work about the farm, boiling sap in the spring woods, driving the cows to pasture, or hoeing corn,--dreams of great wealth and splendor, of dress and equipage,--were also significant, but not prophetic. probably what started these golden dreams was an itinerant quack phrenologist who passed the night at our house when i was a lad of eight or nine. he examined the heads of all of us; when he struck mine, he grew enthusiastic. "this is the head for you," he said; "this boy is going to be rich, very rich"; and much more to that effect. riches was the one thing that appealed to country people in those times; it was what all were after, and what few had. hence the confident prophesy of the old quack made an impression, and when i began to indulge in day-dreams i was, no doubt, influenced by it. but, as you know, it did not come true, except in a very limited sense. instead of returning to the old home in a fine equipage, and shining with gold,--the observed of all observers, and the envy of all enviers,--as i had dreamed, and as had been foretold, i came back heavy-hearted, not indeed poor, but far from rich, walked up from the station through the mud and snow unnoticed, and took upon myself the debts against the old farm, and so provided that it be kept in the family. it was not an impressive home-coming; it was to assume burdens rather than to receive congratulations; it was to bow my head rather than to lift it up. out of the golden dreams of youth had come cares and responsibilities. but doubtless it was best so. the love that brought me back to the old home year after year, that made me willing to serve my family, and that invested my native hills with such a charm, was the best kind of riches after all. as a youth i never went to sunday-school, and i was not often seen inside the church. my sundays were spent rather roaming in the woods and fields, or climbing to "old clump," or, in summer, following the streams and swimming in the pools. occasionally i went fishing, though this was to incur parental displeasure--unless i brought home some fine trout, in which case the displeasure was much tempered. i think this sunday-school in the woods and fields was, in my case, best. it has always seemed, and still seems, as if i could be a little more intimate with nature on sunday than on a week-day; our relations were and are more ideal, a different spirit is abroad, the spirit of holiday and not of work, and i could in youth, and can now, abandon myself to the wild life about me more fully and more joyously on that day than on any other. the memory of my youthful sundays is fragrant with wintergreens, black birch, and crinkle-root, to say nothing of the harvest apples that grew in our neighbor's orchard; and the memory of my sundays in later years is fragrant with arbutus, and the showy orchid, and wild strawberries, and touched with the sanctity of woodland walks and hilltops. what day can compare with a sunday to go to the waterfalls, or to "piney ridge," or to "columbine ledge," or to stroll along "snake lane"? what sweet peace and repose is over all! the snakes in snake lane are as free from venom as are grasshoppers, and the grasshoppers themselves fiddle and dance as at no other time. cherish your sundays. i think you will read a little deeper in "nature's infinite book of secrecy" on sunday than on monday. i once began an essay the subject of which was sunday, but never finished it. i must send you the fragment. but i have not yet solved my equation--what sent me to nature? what made me take an intellectual interest in outdoor things? the precise value of the _x_ is hard to find. my reading, no doubt, had much to do with it. this intellectual and emotional interest in nature is in the air in our time, and has been more or less for the past fifty years. i early read wordsworth, and emerson and tennyson and whitman, and saint-pierre's "studies of nature," as i have before told you. but the previous question is, why the nature poets and nature books appealed to me. one cannot corner this unknown quantity. i suppose i was simply made that way--the love of nature was born in me. i suppose emerson influenced me most, beginning when i was about nineteen; i had read pope and thomson and young and parts of shakespeare before that, but they did not kindle this love of nature in me. emerson did. though he did not directly treat of outdoor themes, yet his spirit seemed to blend with nature, and to reveal the ideal and spiritual values in her works. i think it was this, or something like it, that stimulated me and made bird and tree and sky and flower full of a new interest. it is not nature for its own sake that has mainly drawn me; had it been so, i should have turned out a strict man of science; but nature for the soul's sake--the inward world of ideals and emotions. it is this that allies me to the poets; while it is my interest in the mere fact that allies me to the men of science. i do not read emerson much now, except to try to get myself back into the atmosphere of that foreworld when a paradox, or a startling affirmation, dissolved or put to flight a vast array of commonplace facts. what a bold front he did put on in the presence of the tyrannies of life! he stimulated us by a kind of heavenly bragging and saintly flouting of humdrum that ceases to impress us as we grow old. do we outgrow him?--or do we fall away from him? i cannot bear to hear emerson spoken of as a back-number, and i should like to believe that the young men of to-day find in him what i found in him fifty years ago, when he seemed to whet my appetite for high ideals by referring to that hunger that could "eat the solar system like gingercake." but i suspect they do not. the world is too much with us. we are prone to hitch our wagon to a star in a way, or in a spirit, that does not sanctify the wagon, but debases the star. emerson is perhaps too exceptional to take his place among the small band of the really first-class writers of the world. shear him of his paradoxes, of his surprises, of his sudden inversions, of his taking sallies in the face of the common reason, and appraise him for his real mastery over the elements of life and of the mind, as we do bacon, or shakespeare, or carlyle, and he will be found wanting. and yet, let me quickly add, there is something more precious and divine about him than about any or all the others. he prepares the way for a greater than he, prepares the mind to accept the new man, the new thought, as none other does. but how slow i am in getting at my point! emerson took me captive. for a time i lived and moved and had my intellectual being in him. i think i have always had a pretty soft shell, so to speak, hardly enough lime and grit in it, and at times i am aware that such is the fact to this day. well, emerson found my intellectual shell very plastic; i took the form of his mould at once, and could not get away from him; and, what is more, did not want to get away from him, did not see the need of getting away from him. nature herself seemed to speak through him. an intense individuality that possesses the quality of lovableness is apt to impose itself upon us in this way. it was under this spell, as you know, that i wrote "expression," of which i have told you. the "atlantic," by the way, had from the first number been a sort of university to me. it had done much to stimulate and to shape my literary tastes and ambitions. i was so eager for it that when i expected it in the mail i used to run on my way to the post office for it. so, with fear and trembling, i sent that essay to its editor. lowell told a harvard student who was an old schoolmate of mine that when he read the paper he thought some young fellow was trying to palm off an early essay of emerson's upon him as his own, and that he looked through the "dial" and other publications in the expectation of finding it. not succeeding in doing so, he concluded the young man had written it himself. it was published in november, , and as the contributors' names were not given at that time, it was ascribed to emerson by the newspaper reviewers of that number. it went into poole's index as by emerson, and later. professor hill (some years ago i took it upon myself to let professor hill know the real author of "expression." he appeared grateful, though some what chagrined, and said the error should be corrected in the next edition. mr. burroughs smiled indulgently when he learned of my zeal in the matter: "emerson's back is broad; he could have afforded to continue to shoulder my early blunders," he said. c. b.) of harvard, quoted a line from it in a footnote in his "rhetoric," and credited it to emerson. so i had deceived the very elect. the essay had some merit, but it reeked with the emersonian spirit and manner. when i came to view it through the perspective of print, i quickly saw that this kind of thing would not do for me. i must get on ground of my own. i must get this emersonian musk out of my garments at all hazards. i concluded to bury my garments in the earth, as it were, and see what my native soil would do toward drawing it out. so i took to writing on all manner of rural themes--sugar-making, cows, haying, stone walls. these, no doubt, helped to draw out the rank suggestion of emerson. i wrote about things of which i knew, and was, therefore, bound to be more sincere with myself than in writing upon the emersonian themes. when a man tells what he knows, what he has seen or felt, he is pretty sure to be himself. when i wrote upon more purely intellectual themes, as i did about this time for the "leader," the emersonian influence was more potent, though less so than in the first "atlantic" essay. any man progresses in the formation of a style of his own in proportion as he gets down to his own real thoughts and feelings, and ceases to echo the thoughts and moods of another. only thus can he be sincere; and sincerity is the main secret of style. what i wrote from "the push of reading," as whitman calls it, was largely an artificial product; i had not made it my own; but when i wrote of country scenes and experiences, i touched the quick of my mind, and it was more easy to be real and natural. i also wrote in or a number of things for the "saturday press" which exhaled the emersonian perfume. if you will look them over, you will see how my mind was working in the leading-strings of analogy--often a forced and unreal analogy. december, my dear friend,-- you ask me to tell you more about myself, my life, how it has been with me, etc. it is an inviting subject. how an old man likes to run on about himself! i see that my life has been more of a holiday than most persons', much more than was my father's or his father's. i have picnicked all along the way. i have on the whole been gay and satisfied. i have had no great crosses or burdens to bear; no great afflictions, except such as must come to all who live; neither poverty, nor riches. i have had uniform good health, true friends, and some congenial companions. i have done, for the most part, what i wanted to do. some drudgery i have had, that is, in uncongenial work on the farm, in teaching, in clerking, and in bank-examining; but amid all these things i have kept an outlook, an open door, as it were, out into the free fields of nature, and a buoyant feeling that i would soon be there. my farm life as a boy was at least a half-holiday. the fishing, the hunting, the berrying, the sundays on the hills or in the woods, the sugar-making, the apple-gathering--all had a holiday character. but the hoeing corn, and picking up potatoes, and cleaning the cow stables, had little of this character. i have never been a cog in the wheel of any great concern. i have never had to sink or lose my individuality. i have been under no exacting master or tyrant.... i have never been a slave to any bad habit, as smoking, drinking, over-feeding. i have had no social or political ambitions; society has not curtailed my freedom or dictated my dress or habits. neither has any religious order or any clique. i have had no axe to grind. i have gone with such men and women as i liked, irrespective of any badge of wealth or reputation or social prestige that they might wear. i have looked for simple pleasures everywhere, and have found them. i have not sought for costly pleasures, and do not want them--pleasures that cost money, or health, or time. the great things, the precious things of my life, have been without money and without price, as common as the air. life has laid no urgent mission upon me. my gait has been a leisurely one. i am not bragging of it; i am only stating a fact. i have never felt called upon to reform the world. i have doubtless been culpably indifferent to its troubles and perplexities, and sins and sufferings. i lend a hand occasionally here and there in my own neighborhood, but i trouble myself very little about my neighbors--their salvation or their damnation. i go my own way and do my own work. i have loved nature, i have loved the animals, i have loved my fellow-men. i have made my own whatever was fair and of good report. i have loved the thoughts of the great thinkers and the poems of the great poets, and the devout lines of the great religious souls. i have not looked afar off for my joy and entertainment, but in things near at hand, that all may have on equal terms. i have been a loving and dutiful son, and a loving and dutiful father, and a good neighbor. i have got much satisfaction out of life; it has been worth while. i have not been a burden-bearer; for shame be it said, perhaps, when there are so many burdens to be borne by some one. i have borne those that came in my way, or that circumstances put upon me, and have at least pulled my own weight. i have had my share of the holiday spirit; i have had a social holiday, a moral holiday, a business holiday. i have gone a-fishing while others were struggling and groaning and losing their souls in the great social or political or business maelstrom. i know, too, i have gone a-fishing while others have labored in the slums and given their lives to the betterment of their fellows. but i have been a good fisherman, and i should have made a poor missionary, or reformer, or leader of any crusade against sin and crime. i am not a fighter, i dislike any sort of contest, or squabble, or competition, or storm. my strength is in my calm, my serenity, my sunshine. in excitement i lose my head, and my heels, too. i cannot carry any citadel by storm. i lack the audacity and spirit of the stormer. i must reduce it slowly or steal it quietly. i lack moral courage, though i have plenty of physical and intellectual courage. i could champion walt whitman when nearly every contemporaneous critic and poet were crying him down, but i utterly lack the moral courage to put in print what he dared to. i have wielded the "big stick" against the nature-fakers, but i am very uncomfortable under any sort of blame or accusation. it is so much easier for me to say yes than no. my moral fibre is soft compared to my intellectual. i am a poor preacher, an awkward moralizer. a moral statement does not interest me unless it can be backed up by natural truth; it must have intellectual value. the religious dogmas interest me if i can find a scientific basis for them, otherwise not at all. i shall shock you by telling you i am not much of a patriot. i have but little national pride. if we went to war with a foreign power to-morrow, my sympathies would be with the foreigner if i thought him in the right. i could gladly see our navy knocked to pieces by japan, for instance, if we were in the wrong. i have absolutely no state pride, any more than i have county or town pride, or neighborhood pride. but i make it up in family or tribal affection. i am too much preoccupied, too much at home with myself, to feel any interest in many things that interest my fellows. i have aimed to live a sane, normal, healthy life; or, rather, i have an instinct for such a life. i love life, as such, and i am quickly conscious of anything that threatens to check its even flow. i want a full measure of it, and i want it as i do my spring water, clear and sweet and from the original sources. hence i have always chafed in cities, i must live in the country. life in the cities is like the water there--a long way from the original sources, and more or less tainted by artificial conditions. the current of the lives of many persons, i think, is like a muddy stream. they lack the instinct for health, and hence do not know when the vital current is foul. they are never really well. they do not look out for personal inward sanitation. smokers, drinkers, coffee-tipplers, gluttonous eaters, diners-out, are likely to lose the sense of perfect health, of a clear, pure life-current, of which i am thinking. the dew on the grass, the bloom on the grape, the sheen on the plumage, are suggestions of the health that is within the reach of most of us. the least cloud or film in my mental skies mars or stops my work. i write with my body quite as much as with my mind. how persons whose bread of life is heavy, so to speak,--no lightness or buoyancy or airiness at all,--can make good literature is a mystery to me; or those who stimulate themselves with drugs or alcohol or coffee. i would live so that i could get tipsy on a glass of water, or find a spur in a whiff of morning air. such as my books are, the bloom of my life is in them; no morbidity, or discontent, or ill health, or angry passion, has gone to their making. the iridescence of a bird's plumage, we are told, is not something extraneous; it is a prismatic effect. so the color in my books is not paint; it is health. it is probably nothing to brag of; much greater books have been the work of confirmed invalids. all i can say is that the minds of these inspired invalids have not seemed to sustain so close a relation to their bodies as my mind does to my body. their powers seem to have been more purely psychic. look at stevenson--almost bedridden all his life, yet behold the felicity of his work! how completely his mind must have been emancipated from the infirmities of his body! it is clearly not thus with me. my mind is like a flame that depends entirely upon the good combustion going on in the body. hence, i can never write in the afternoon, because this combustion is poorest then. life has been to me simply an opportunity to learn and enjoy, and, through my books, to share my enjoyment with others. i have had no other ambition. i have thirsted to know things, and to make the most of them. the universe is to me a grand spectacle that fills me with awe and wonder and joy, and with intense curiosity. i have had no such religious burden to bear as my fathers did--the conviction of sin, the struggle, the agony, the despair of a soul that fears it is lost. the fear of hell has never troubled me. of sin in the theological sense, the imputed sin of adam's transgression, which so worried the old people, i have not had a moment's concern. that i have given my heart to nature instead of to god, as these same old people would have said, has never cast a shadow over my mind or conscience--as if god would not get all that belonged to him, and as if love of his works were not love of him! i have acquiesced in things as they are, and have got all the satisfaction out of them that i could. over my personal sins and shortcomings, i have not been as much troubled as i should; none of us are. we do not see them in relief as others do; they are like the color of our eyes, or our hair, or the shapes of our noses. i do not know that it is true that my moral fibre is actually weak. if i may draw a figure from geology, it is probably true that my moral qualities are the softer rock in the strata that make up my being--the easiest worn away. i see that i carry the instinct of the naturalist into all my activities. if a thing is natural, sane, wholesome, that is enough. whether or not it is conventionally correct, or square with the popular conception of morality, does not matter to me. i undoubtedly lack the heroic fibre. my edge is much easier turned than was that, say, of thoreau. austerity would ill become me. you would see through the disguise. yes, there is much soft rock in my make-up. is that why i shrink from the wear and tear of the world? the religious storm and upheaval that i used to hear so much of in my youth is impossible with me. i am liable to deep-seated enthusiasms; but to nothing like a revolution in my inward life, nothing sudden, nothing violent. i can't say that there has been any abandonment of my opinions on important subjects; there has been new growth and evolution, i hope. the emphasis of life shifts, now here, now there; it is up hill and down dale, but there is no change of direction.... certain deep-seated tendencies and instincts have borne me on. i have gravitated naturally to the things that were mine. i could not make anything i chose of myself; i could only be what i am. in my youth i once "went forward" at a "protracted meeting," but nothing came of it. the change in me that i was told would happen did not happen, and i never went again. my nature was too equable, too self-poised, to be suddenly overturned and broken up. i am not a bit gregarious. i cannot herd with other men and be "hail, fellow, well met!" with them as i wish i could. i am much more at home with women; we seem to understand one another better. put me with a lot of men, and we naturally separate as oil and water separate. on shipboard it is rarely that any of the men take to me, or i to them--i do not smoke or drink or tell stories, or talk business or politics, and the men have little use for me. on my last voyage across the atlantic, the only man who seemed to notice me, or to whom i felt drawn at all, was a catholic priest. real countrymen, trappers, hunters, and farmers, i seem to draw near to. on the harriman alaskan expedition the two men i felt most at home with were fred dellenbaugh, the artist and explorer, and captain kelly, the guide. can you understand this? do you see why men do not, as a rule, care for me, and why women do? i accuse myself of want of sociability. probably i am too thin-skinned. a little more of the pachyderm would help me in this respect. some day i will give you more self-analysis and self-criticism. i am what you might call an extemporaneous writer--i write without any previous study or preparation, save in so far as my actual life from day to day has prepared me for it. i do not work up my subject, or outline it, or sketch it in the rough. when i sit down to write upon any theme, like that of my "cosmopolitan" article last april ("what life means to me," ), or of my various papers on animal intelligence, i do not know what i have to say on the subject till i delve into my mind and see what i find there. the writing is like fishing or hunting, or sifting the sand for gold--i am never sure of what i shall find. all i want is a certain feeling, a bit of leaven, which i seem to refer to some place in my chest--not my heart, but to a point above that and nearer the centre of the chest--the place that always glows or suffuses when one thinks of any joy or good tidings that is coming his way. it is a kind of hunger for that subject; it warms me a little to think of it, a pleasant thrill runs through me; or it is something like a lover's feeling for his sweetheart--i long to be alone with it, and to give myself to it. i am sure i shall have a good time. hence, my writing is the measure of my life. i can write only about what i have previously felt and lived. i have no legerdemain to invoke things out of the air, or to make a dry branch bud and blossom before the eyes. i must look into my heart and write, or remain dumb. robert louis stevenson said one should be able to write eloquently on a broomstick, and so he could. stevenson had the true literary legerdemain; he was master of the art of writing; he could invest a broomstick with charm; if it remained a broomstick, it was one on which the witches might carry you through the air at night. stevenson had no burden of meaning to deliver to the world; his subject never compelled him to write; but he certainly could invest common things and thoughts with rare grace and charm. i wish i had more of this gift, this facility of pen, apart from any personal interest in the subject. i could not grow eloquent over a broomstick, unless it was the stick of the broom that used to stand in the corner behind the door in the old kitchen at home--the broom with which mother used to sweep the floor, and sweep off the doorstones, glancing up to the fields and hills as she finished and turned to go in; the broom with which we used to sweep the snow from our boots and trouser-legs when we came from school or from doing the chores in winter. here would be a personal appeal that would probably find me more inevitably than it would stevenson. i have never been in the habit of doing a thing, of taking a walk, or making an excursion, for the purpose of writing it up. hence, when magazine editors have asked me to go south or to california, or here or there, to write the text to go with the pictures their artist would make, i have felt constrained to refuse. the thought that i was expected to write something would have burdened me and stood in the way of my enjoyment, and unless there is enjoyment, there is no writing with me. i was once tempted into making an excursion for one of the magazines to a delightful place along the jersey coast in company with an artist, and a memorable day it was, too, with plenty of natural and of human interest, but nothing came of it--my perverse pen would not do what it was expected to do; it was no longer a free pen. when i began observing the birds, nothing was further from my thoughts than writing them up. i watched them and ran after them because i loved them and was happy with them in the fields and woods; the writing came as an afterthought, and as a desire to share my enjoyment with others. hence, i have never carried a notebook, or collected data about nature in my rambles and excursions. what was mine, what i saw with love and emotion, has always fused with my mind, so that in the heat of writing it came back to me spontaneously. what i have lived, i never lose. my trip to alaska came near being spoiled because i was expected to write it up, and actually did so from day to day, before fusion and absorption had really taken place. hence my readers complain that they do not find me in that narrative, do not find my stamp or quality as in my other writings. and well they may say it. i am conscious that i am not there as in the others; the fruit was plucked before it had ripened; or, to use my favorite analogy, the bee did not carry the nectar long enough to transform it into honey. had i experienced a more free and disinterested intercourse with alaskan nature, with all the pores of my mind open, the result would certainly have been different. i might then, after the experience had lain and ripened in my mind for a year or two, and become my own, have got myself into it. when i went to the yellowstone national park with president roosevelt, i waited over three years before writing up the trip. i recall the president's asking me at the time if i took notes. i said, "no; everything that interests me will stick to me like a burr." and i may say here that i have put nothing in my writings at any time that did not interest me. i have aimed in this to please myself alone. i believe it to be true at all times that what does not interest the writer will not interest his reader. from the impromptu character of my writings come both their merits and their defects--their fresh, unstudied character, and their want of thoroughness and reference-book authority. i cannot, either in my writing or in my reading, tolerate any delay, any flagging of the interest, any beating about the bush, even if there is a bird in it. the thought, the description, must move right along, and i am impatient of all footnotes and quotations and asides. a writer may easily take too much thought about his style, until it obtrudes itself upon the reader's attention. i would have my sentences appear as if they had never taken a moment's thought of themselves, nor stood before the study looking-glass an instant. in fact, the less a book appears written, the more like a spontaneous product it is, the better i like it. this is not a justification of carelessness or haste; it is a plea for directness, vitality, motion. those writers who are like still-water fishermen, whose great virtues are patience and a tireless arm, never appealed to me any more than such fishing ever did. i want something more like a mountain brook--motion, variety, and the furthest possible remove from stagnation. indeed, where can you find a better symbol of good style in literature than a mountain brook after it is well launched towards the lowlands--not too hurried, and not too loitering--limpid, musical, but not noisy, full but not turbid, sparkling but not frothy, every shallow quickly compensated for by a deep reach of thought; the calm, lucid pools of meaning alternating with the passages of rapid description, of moving eloquence or gay comment--flowing, caressing, battling, as the need may be, loitering at this point, hurrying at that, drawing together here, opening out there--freshness, variety, lucidity, power. (we wish that, like the brook, our self-analyst would "go on forever"; but his stream of thought met some obstacle when he had written thus far, and i have never been able to induce it to resume its flow. i have, there-fore, selected a bit of self-analysis from mr. burroughs's diary of december, , with which to close this subject. c.b.) i have had to accomplish in myself the work of several generations. none of my ancestors were men or women of culture; they knew nothing of books. i have had to begin at the stump, and to rise from crude things. i have felt the disadvantages which i have labored under, as well as the advantages. the advantages are, that things were not hackneyed with me, curiosity was not blunted, my faculties were fresh and eager--a kind of virgin soil that gives whatever charm and spontaneity my books possess, also whatever of seriousness and religiousness. the disadvantages are an inaptitude for scholarly things, a want of the steadiness and clearness of the tone of letters, the need of a great deal of experimenting, a certain thickness and indistinctness of accent. the farmer and laborer in me, many generations old, is a little embarrassed in the company of scholars; has to make a great effort to remember his learned manners and terms. the unliterary basis is the best to start from; it is the virgin soil of the wilderness; but it is a good way to the college and the library, and much work must be done. i am near to nature and can write upon these themes with ease and success; this is my proper field, as i well know. but bookish themes--how i flounder about amid them, and have to work and delve long to get down to the real truth about them in my mind! in writing upon emerson, or arnold, or carlyle, i have to begin, as it were, and clear the soil, build a log hut, and so work up to the point of view that is not provincial, but more or less metropolitan. my best gift as a writer is my gift for truth; i have a thoroughly honest mind, and know the truth when i see it. my humility, or modesty, or want of self-assertion, call it what you please, is also a help in bringing me to the truth. i am not likely to stand in my own light; nor to mistake my own wants and whims for the decrees of the eternal. at least, if i make the mistake to-day, i shall see my error to-morrow. (the discerning reader can hardly fail to trace in the foregoing unvarnished account of our subject's ancestry and environment many of the factors which have contributed to the unique success he has attained as a writer. nor can he fail to trace a certain likeness, of which our author seems unconscious, to his father. to his mother he has credited most of his gifts as a writer, but to that childlike unselfconsciousness which he describes in his father, we are doubtless largely indebted for the candid self-analysis here given. but few writers could compass such a thing, yet he has done it simply and naturally, as he would write on any other topic in which he was genuinely interested. to be naked and unashamed is a condition lost by most of us long ago, but retained by a few who still have many of the traits of the natural man. c.b.) the early writings of john burroughs i once asked mr. burroughs about his early writings, his beginnings. he replied, "they were small potatoes and few in a hill, although at the time i evidently thought i was growing some big ones. i had yet to learn, as every young writer has to learn, that big words do not necessarily mean big thoughts." later he sent me these maiden efforts, with an account of when and where they appeared. these early articles show that mr. burroughs was a born essayist. they all took the essay form. in his reading, as he has said, any book of essays was pretty sure to arrest his attention. he seems early to have developed a hunger for the pure stuff of literature--something that would feed his intellect at the same time that it appealed to his aesthetic sense. concerning his first essays, he wrote me:-- the only significant thing about my first essays, written between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three, is their serious trend of thought; but the character of my early reading was serious and philosophical. locke and johnson and saint-pierre and the others no doubt left their marks upon me. i diligently held my mind down to the grindstone of locke's philosophy, and no doubt my mind was made brighter and sharper by the process. out of saint-pierre's "studies of nature," a work i had never before heard of, i got something, though it would be hard for me to say just what. the work is a curious blending of such science as there was in his time, with sentiment and fancy, and enlivened by a bright french mind. i still look through it with interest, and find that it has a certain power of suggestion for me yet. he confessed that he was somewhat imposed upon by dr. johnson's high-sounding platitudes. "a beginner," he said, "is very apt to feel that if he is going to write, the thing to do is to write, and get as far from the easy conversational manner as possible. let your utterances be measured and stately." at first he tried to imitate johnson, but soon gave that up. he was less drawn to addison and lamb at the time, because they were less formal, and seemingly less profound; and was slow in perceiving that the art of good writing is the art of bringing one's mind and soul face to face with that of the reader. how different that early attitude from the penetrating criticism running through his "literary values"; how different his stilted beginnings from his own limpid prose as we know it, to read which is to forget that one is reading! mr. burroughs's very first appearance in print was in a paper in delaware county, new york,--the bloomfield "mirror,"--on may , . the article--"vagaries vs. spiritualism"--purports to be written by "philomath," of roxbury, new york, who is none other than john burroughs, at the age of nineteen. it starts out showing impatience at the unreasoning credulity of the superstitious mind, and continues in a mildly derisive strain for about a column, foreshadowing the controversial spirit which mr. burroughs displayed many years later in taking to task the natural-history romancers. the production was evidently provoked by a too credulous writer on spiritualism in a previous issue of the "mirror." i will quote its first paragraph:-- mr. mirror,--notwithstanding the general diffusion of knowledge in the nineteenth century, it is a lamentable fact that some minds are so obscured by ignorance, or so blinded by superstition, as to rely with implicit confidence upon the validity of opinions which have no foundation in nature, or no support by the deductions of reason. but truth and error have always been at variance, and the audacity of the contest has kept pace with the growing vigor of the contending parties. some straightforward, conscientious persons, whose intentions are undoubtedly commendable, are so infatuated by the sophistical theories of the spiritualist, or so tossed about on the waves of public opinion, that they lose sight of truth and good sense, and, like the philosopher who looked higher than was wise in his stargazing, tumble into a ditch. in or , mr. burroughs began to contribute to the columns of the "saturday press," an organ of the literary bohemians in new york, edited by henry clapp. these were fragmentary things of a philosophical cast, and were grouped under the absurd title "fragments from the table of an intellectual epicure," by "all souls." there were about sixty of these fragments. i have examined most of them; some are fanciful and far-fetched; some are apt and felicitous; but all foreshadow the independent thinker and observer, and show that this "intellectual epicure" was feeding on strong meat and assimilating it. i assume that it will interest the reader who knows mr. burroughs only as the practiced writer of the past fifty years to see some of his first sallies into literature, to trace the unlikeness to his present style, and the resemblances here and there. accordingly i subjoin some extracts by "all souls" from the time-stained pages of the new york "saturday press" of and :-- a principle of absolute truth, pointed with fact and feathered with fancy, and shot from the bow-string of a master intellect, is one of the most potent things under the sun. it sings like a bird of peace to those who are not the object of its aim, but woe, woe to him who is the butt of such terrible archery! for a thing to appear heavy to us, it is necessary that we have heft to balance against it; to appear strong, it is necessary that we have strength; to appear great, it is necessary that we have an idea of greatness. we must have a standard to measure by, and that standard must be in ourselves. an ignorant peasant cannot know that bacon is so wise. to duly appreciate genius, you must have genius; a pigmy cannot measure the strength of a giant. the faculty that reads and admires, is the green undeveloped state of the faculty that writes and creates. a book, a principle, an individual, a landscape, or any object in nature, to be understood and appreciated, must answer to something within us; appreciation is the first step toward interpreting a revelation. to feel terribly beaten is a good sign; the more resources a man is conscious of, the deeper he will feel his defeat. but to feel unusually elated at a victory indicates that our strength did not warrant it, that we had gone beyond our resources. the boy who went crowing all day through the streets, on having killed a squirrel with a stone, showed plainly enough that it was not a general average of his throwing, and that he was not in the habit of doing so well; while the rifleman picks the hawk from the distant tree without remark or comment, and feels vexed if he miss. the style of some authors, like the manners of some men, is so naked, so artificial, has so little character at the bottom of it, that it is constantly intruding itself upon your notice, and seems to lie there like a huge marble counter from behind which they vend only pins and needles; whereas the true function of style is as a means and not as an end--to concentrate the attention upon the thought which it bears, and not upon itself--to be so apt, natural, and easy, and so in keeping with the character of the author, that, like the comb in the hive, it shall seem the result of that which it contains, and to exist for _its_ sake alone. it is interesting to note, in these and other extracts, how the young writer is constantly tracing the analogy between the facts of everyday life about him, and moral and intellectual truths. a little later he began to knit these fragments together into essays, and to send the essays to the "saturday press" under such titles as "deep," and "a thought on culture." there is a good deal of stating the same thing in diverse ways. the writer seems to be led on and on to seek analogies which, for the most part, are felicitous; occasionally crudities and unnecessarily homely comparisons betray his unformed taste. the first three paragraphs of "deep" give a fair sample of the essay:-- deep authors? yes, reader, i like deep authors, that is, authors of great penetration, reach, and compass of thought; but i must not be bored with a sense of depth--must not be required to strain my mental vision to see into the bottom of a well; the fountain must flow out at the surface, though it come from the centre of the globe. then i can fill my cup without any artificial aid, or any painful effort. what we call depth in a book is often obscurity; and an author whose meaning is got at only by severe mental exertion, and a straining of the mind's eye, is generally weak in the backbone of him. occasionally it is the dullness of the reader, but oftener the obtuseness of the writer. a strong vigorous writer is not obscure--at any rate, not habitually so; never leaves his reader in doubt, or compels him to mount the lever and help to raise his burden; but clutches it in his mighty grasp and hurls it into the air, so that it is not only unencumbered by the soil that gave it birth, but is wholly detached and relieved, and set off against the clear blue of his imagination. his thought is not like a rock propped up but still sod-bound, but is like a rock held aloft, or built into a buttress, with definite shape and outline. let me next quote from "a thought on culture," which appeared in the same publication a little later, and which is the first to bear his signature:-- in the conduct of life a man should not show his knowledge, but his wisdom; not his money--that were vulgar and foolish--but the result of it--independence, courage, culture, generosity, manliness, and that noble, humane, courteous air which wealth always brings to the right sort of a man. a display of mere knowledge, under most circumstances, is pedantry; an exercise of wisdom is always godlike. we cannot pardon the absence of knowledge, but itself must be hid. we can use a thing without absolutely showing it, we can be reasonable without boring people with our logic, and speak correctly without parsing our sentences. the end of knowledge is not that a man may appear learned, any more than the end of eating is that a man may seem to have a full stomach; but the end of it is that a man may be wise, see and understand things as they are; be able to adjust himself to the universe in which he is placed, and judge and reason with the celerity of instinct, and that without any conscious exercise of his knowledge. when we feel the food we have eaten, something is wrong; so when a man is forever conscious of his learning, he has not digested it, and it is an encumbrance.... the evolution of this author in his use of titles is interesting. compare the crudity of "vagaries vs. spiritualism," and "deep," for example, with those he selects when he begins to publish his books. "wake-robin," "winter sunshine," "locusts and wild honey," "leaf and tendril,"--how much they connote! then how felicitous are the titles of most of his essays! "birch browsings," "the snow-walkers," "mellow england," "our rural divinity" (the cow), "the flight of the eagle" (for one of his early essays on whitman), "a bunch of herbs," "a pinch of salt," "the divine soil," "the long road" (on evolution)--these and many others will occur to the reader. following "a thought on culture" was a short essay on poetry, the drift of which is that poetry as contrasted with science must give us things, not as they are in themselves, but as they stand related to our experience. our young writer is more at his ease now:-- science, of course, is literal, as it ought to be, but science is not life; science takes no note of this finer self, this duplicate on a higher scale. science never laughs or cries, or whistles or sings, or falls in love, or sees aught but the coherent reality. it says a soap bubble is a soap bubble--a drop of water impregnated with oleate of potash or soda, and inflated with common air; but life says it is a crystal sphere, dipped in the rainbow, buoyant as hope, sensitive as the eye, with a power to make children dance for joy, and to bring youth into the look of the old.... who in his youth ever saw the swallow of natural history to be the twittering, joyous bird that built mud nests beneath his father's shed, and in the empty odorous barn?--that snapped the insects that flew up in his way when returning at twilight from the upland farm; and that filled his memory with such visions of summer when he first caught its note on some bright may morning, flying up the southern valley? describe water, or a tree, in the language of exact science, or as they really are in and of themselves, and what person, schooled only in nature, would recognize them? things must be given as they seem, as they stand represented in the mind. objects arrange themselves in our memory, not according to the will, or any real quality in themselves, but as they affect our lives and stand to us in our unconscious moments. the hills we have dwelt among, the rocks and trees we have looked upon in all moods and feelings, that stood to us as the shore to the sea, and received a thousand impresses of what we lived and suffered, have significance to us that is not accounted for by anything we can see or feel in them. here we see the youth of twenty-three setting forth a truth which he has sedulously followed in his own writing about nature, the following of which accounts so largely for the wide appeal his works have made. some time in , mr. burroughs began to send essays to the new york "leader," a weekly paper, the organ of tammany hall at that time. his first article was made up of three short essays--"world growth," "new ideas," and "theory and practice." here beyond question is the writer we know: the ideas that indicate the approach of a new era in history come like bluebirds in the spring, if you have ever noticed how that is. the bird at first seems a mere wandering voice in the air; you hear its carol on some bright morning in march, but are uncertain of its course or origin; it seems to come from some source you cannot divine; it falls like a drop of rain when no cloud is visible; you look and listen, but to no purpose. the weather changes, and it is not till a number of days that you hear the note again, or, maybe, see the bird darting from a stake in the fence, or flitting from one mullein-stalk to another. its notes now become daily more frequent; the birds multiply; they sing less in the air and more when at rest; and their music is louder and more continuous, but less sweet and plaintive. their boldness increases and soon you see them flitting with a saucy and inquiring air about barns and outbuildings, peeping into dove-cota and stable windows, and prospecting for a place to nest. they wage war against robins, pick quarrels with swallows, and would forcibly appropriate their mud houses, seeming to doubt the right of every other bird to exist but themselves. but soon, as the season advances, domestic instincts predominate; they subside quietly into their natural places, and become peaceful members of the family of birds. so the thoughts that indicate the approach of a new era in history at first seem to be mere disembodied, impersonal voices somewhere in the air; sweet and plaintive, half-sung and half-cried by some obscure and unknown poet. we know not whence they come, nor whither they tend. it is not a matter of sight or experience. they do not attach themselves to any person or place, and their longitude and latitude cannot be computed. but presently they become individualized and centre in some erasmus, or obscure thinker, and from a voice in the air, become a living force on the earth. they multiply and seem contagious, and assume a thousand new forms. they grow quarrelsome and demonstrative, impudent and conceited, crowd themselves in where they have no right, and would fain demolish or appropriate every institution and appointment of society. but after a time they settle into their proper relations, incorporate themselves in the world, and become new sources of power and progress in history. this quotation is especially significant, as it shows the writer's already keen observation of the birds, and his cleverness in appropriating these facts of nature to his philosophical purpose. how neatly it is done! readers of "wake-robin" will recognize a part of it in the matchless description of the bluebird which is found in the initial essay of that book. in , in the "leader," there also appeared a long essay by mr. burroughs, "on indirections." this has the most unity and flow of thought of any thus far. it is so good i should like to quote it all. here are the opening paragraphs:-- the south american indian who discovered the silver mines of potosi by the turning up of a bush at the roots, which he had caught hold of to aid his ascent while pursuing a deer up a steep hill, represents very well how far intention and will are concerned in the grand results that flow from men's lives. every schoolboy knows that many of the most valuable discoveries in science and art were accidental, or a kind of necessity, and sprang from causes that had no place in the forethought of the discoverer. the ostrich lays its eggs in the sand, and the sun hatches them; so man puts forth an effort and higher powers second him, and he finds himself the source of events that he had never conceived or meditated. things are so intimately connected and so interdependent, the near and the remote are so closely related, and all parts of the universe are so mutually sympathetic, that it is impossible to tell what momentous secrets may lurk under the most trifling facts, or what grand and beautiful results may be attained through low and unimportant means. it seems that nature delights in surprise, and in underlying our careless existences with plans that are evermore to disclose themselves to us and stimulate us to new enterprise and research. the simplest act of life may discover a chain of cause and effect that binds together the most remote parts of the system. we are often nearest to truth in some unexpected moment, and may stumble upon that while in a careless mood which has eluded our most vigilant and untiring efforts. men have seen deepest and farthest when they opened their eyes without any special aim, and a word or two carelessly dropped by a companion has revealed to me a truth that weeks of study had failed to compass.... nature will not be come at directly, but indirectly; all her ways are retiring and elusive, and she is more apt to reveal herself to her quiet, unobtrusive lover, than to her formal, ceremonious suitor. a man who goes out to admire the sunset, or to catch the spirit of field and grove, will very likely come back disappointed. a bird seldom sings when watched, and nature is no coquette, and will not ogle and attitudinize when stared at. the farmer and traveler drink deepest of this cup, because it is always a surprise and comes without forethought or preparation. no insulation or entanglement takes place, and the soothing, medicinal influence of the fields and the wood takes possession of us as quietly as a dream, and before we know it we are living the life of the grass and the trees. how unconsciously here he describes his own intercourse with nature! and what an unusual production for a youth of twenty-three of such meagre educational advantages! in , in an essay on "some of the ways of power," which appeared in the "leader," he celebrated the beauty and completeness of nature's inexorable laws:-- there is an evident earnestness and seriousness in the meaning of things, and the laws that traverse nature and our own being are as fixed and inexorable, though, maybe, less instantaneous and immediate in their operation, as the principle of gravitation, and are as little disposed to pardon the violator or adjourn the day of adjudication. there seems to be this terrible alternative put to every man on entering the world, _conquer or be conquered_. it is what the waves say to the swimmer, "use me or drown"; what gravity says to the babe, "use me or fall"; what the winds say to the sailor, "use me or be wrecked"; what the passions say to every one of us, "drive or be driven." time in its dealings with us says plainly enough, "here i am, your master or your servant." if we fail to make a good use of time, time will not fail to make a bad use of us. the miser does not use his money, so his money uses him; men do not govern their ambition, and so are governed by it.... these considerations are valuable chiefly for their analogical import. they indicate a larger truth. man grows by conquering his limitations--by subduing new territory and occupying it. he commences life on a very small capital; his force yet lies outside of him, scattered up and down in the world like his wealth--in rocks, in trees, in storms and flood, in dangers, in difficulties, in hardships,--in short, in whatever opposes his progress and puts on a threatening front. the first difficulty overcome, the first victory gained, is so much added to his side of the scale--so much reinforcement of pure power. i have said elsewhere that mr. burroughs has written himself into his books. we see him doing this in these early years; he was an earnest student of life at an age when most young men would have been far less seriously occupied. difficulties and hardships were roundabout him, his force was, indeed, "scattered up and down in the world, in rocks and trees," in birds and flowers, and from these sources he was even then wresting the beginnings of his successful career. it was in november, , when twenty-three years of age, that he made his first appearance in the pages of the "atlantic monthly," in the essay "expression," comments upon which by its author i have already quoted. at that time he was under the emersonian spell of which he speaks in his autobiographical sketch. other readers and lovers of emerson had had similar experiences. brownlee brown, an "atlantic" contributor (of "genius" and "the ideal tendency," especially), was a "sort of refined and spiritualized emerson, without the grip and gristle of the master, but very pleasing and suggestive," mr. burroughs says. the younger writer made a pilgrimage to the home of brownlee brown in the fall of , having been much attracted to him by the above-named essays. he found him in a field gathering turnips. they had much interesting talk, and some correspondence thereafter. mr. brown admitted that his mind had been fertilized by the emersonian pollen, and declared he could write in no other way. concerning his own imitation of emerson, mr. burroughs says:-- it was by no means a conscious imitation. had i tried to imitate him, probably the spurious character of my essay would have deceived no one. it was one of those unconscious imitations that so often give an impression of genuineness.... when i began to realize how deeply emerson had set his stamp upon me, i said to myself: "this will never do. i must resist this influence. if i would be a true disciple of emerson, i must be myself and not another. i must brace myself by his spirit, and not go tricked out in his manner, and his spirit was _'never imitate.'_" it was this resolution, as he has before told us, that turned him to writing on outdoor subjects. in rereading "expression" recently, i was struck, not so much by its emersonian manner, as by its bergsonian ideas. i had heard mr. burroughs, when he came under the spell of bergson in the summer of , say that the reason he was so moved by the french philosopher was doubtless because he found in him so many of his own ideas; and it was with keen pleasure that i came upon these forerunners of bergson written before bergson was born. at the time when mr. burroughs was dropping the emersonian manner, and while his style was in the transition stage, he wrote an essay on "analogy," and sent it also to the "atlantic," receiving quite a damper on his enthusiasm when lowell, the editor, returned it. but he sent it to the old "knickerbocker magazine," where it appeared in . many years later he rewrote it, and it was accepted by horace scudder, then the "atlantic's" editor; in , after rewriting it the second time, he published it in "literary values." because of the deep significance of them at this time in the career of mr. burroughs, i shall quote the following letters received by him from david a. wasson, a unitarian clergyman of massachusetts, and a contributor to the early numbers of the "atlantic." their encouragement, their candor, their penetration, and their prescience entitle them to a high place in an attempt to trace the evolution of our author. one readily divines how much such appreciation and criticism meant to the youthful essayist. groveland, mass., may , mr. burroughs,-- my dear sir,--let me tell you at the outset that i have for five years suffered from a spinal hurt, from which i am now slowly recovering, but am still unable to walk more than a quarter of a mile or to write without much pain. i have all the will in the world to serve you, but, as you will perceive, must use much brevity in writing. "expression" i do not remember,--probably did not read,--for i read no periodical literature--not even the "atlantic," which is the best periodical i know--unless my attention is very especially called to it, and often, to tell the truth, do not heed the call when it is given. where i am at present i have not access to back numbers of the "atlantic," but shall have soon. the essay that you sent me i read carefully twice, but unfortunately left it in boston, where it reached me. i can therefore only speak of it generally. it certainly shows in you, if my judgment may be trusted, unusual gifts of pure intellect--unusual, i mean, among scholars and literary men; and the literary execution is creditable, though by no means of the same grade with the mental power evinced. you must become a fine literary worker to be equal to the demands of such an intellect as yours. for the deeper the thought, the more difficult to give it a clear and attractive expression. you can write so as to command attention. i am sure you can. will you? that is the only question. can you work and wait long enough? have you the requisite patience and persistency? if you have, there is undoubtedly an honorable future before you. but i will not conceal from you that i think you too young to have written "numerous essays" of the class you attempt, or to publish a book consisting of such. no other kind of writing requires such mental maturity; stories may be written at any age, though good ones are seldom written early. even poems and works of art have been produced by some raphael or milton at a comparatively early season of life, and have not given shame to the author at a later age; though this is the exception, not the rule. but the purely reflective essay belongs emphatically to maturer life. your twenty-four years have evidently been worth more to you than the longest life to most men; but my judgment is that you should give your genius more time yet, and should wait upon it with more labor. this is my frank counsel. i will respect you so much as to offer it without disguise. let me fortify it by an example or two. mr. emerson published nothing, i think, until he was past thirty, and his brother charles, now dead, who was considered almost superior to him, maintained that it is almost a sin to go into print sooner. yet both these had all possible educational advantages, and were familiar with the best books and the best results of american culture from infancy almost. i myself printed nothing--saving some poetical indiscretions--until i was twenty-seven, and this was only a criticism on dr. isaac barrow--not a subject, you see, that made great demands upon me. two years later an article on lord bacon, for which i had been indirectly preparing more than two years, and directly at least one; and even then i would say little respecting his philosophy, and confined myself chiefly to a portraiture of his character as a man. at thirty-two years of age i sent to press an essay similar in character to those i write now--and am at present a little ashamed of it. i am now thirty-nine years old, and all that i have ever put in print would not make more than one hundred and thirty or one hundred and forty pages in the "atlantic." upon reflection, however, i will say two hundred pages, including pamphlet publications. i would have it less rather than more. but for this illness it would have been even less, for this has led me to postpone larger enterprises, which would have gone to press much later, and prepare shorter articles for the "atlantic." yet my literary interest began at a very early age. in writing essays such as it seems to me you have a genius for, i require:-- . that one should get the range--the largest _range_--of the laws he sets forth. this is the _sine qua num_. every primary law goes through heaven and earth. go with it. this is the business and privilege of intellect. . when one comes to writing, let his discourse have a beginning and an end. do not let the end of his essay be merely the end of his sheet, or the place where he took a notion to stop writing, but let it be necessary. each paragraph, too, should represent a distinct advance, a clear step, in the exposition of his thought. i spare no labor in securing this, and reckon no labor lost that brings me toward this mark. i reckon my work ill done if a single paragraph, yes, or a single sentence, can be transposed without injuring the whole. . vivid expression must be sought, must be labored for unsparingly. this you, from your position, will find it somewhat hard to attain, unless you have peculiar aptitude for it. expression in the country is far less vivacious than in cities. i have spoken frankly; now you must decide for yourself. you have mental power enough; if you have accessory qualities (which i think you must possess), you cannot fail to make your mark. the brevity that i promised you will not find in this letter, but you will find haste enough to make up for the lack of it. if now, after the foregoing, you feel any inclination to send me the essay on "analogy" (capital subject), pray do so. i will read it, and if i have anything to say about it, will speak as frankly as above. i shall be in this place--groveland, mass.--about three weeks; after that in worcester a short while. very truly yours, david a. wasson. groveland, mass., june , . mr. burroughs,-- my dear sir,-- i am sorry to have detained your ms. so long, but part of the time i have been away, and during the other portion of it, the fatigue that i must undergo was all that my strength would bear. i read your essay carefully in a few days after receiving it and laid it aside for a second perusal. now i despair of finding time for such a second reading as i designed, and so must write you at once my impressions after a single reading. the inference concerning your mind that i draw from your essay enhances the interest i previously felt in you. all that you tell me of yourself has the same effect. you certainly have high, very high, mental power; and the patience and persistency that you must have shown hitherto assures me that you will in future be equal to the demands of your intellect. as to publishing what you have now written, you must judge. the main question, is whether you will be discouraged by failure of your book. if not, publish, if you like; and then, if the public ignores your thought, gather up your strength again and write so that they cannot ignore you. for, in truth, the public does not like to think; it likes to be amused; and conceives a sort of hatred against the writer who would force it to the use of its intellect. this is invariably the case; it will be so with you. if the public finds anything in your work that can be condemned, it will be but too happy to pass sentence; if it can make out to think that you are a pretender, it will gladly do so; if it can turn its back upon you and ignore you, its back, and nothing else, you will surely see. and this on account of your merits. you really have thoughts. you make combinations of your own. you have freighted your words out of your own mental experience. you do not flatter any of the sects by using their cant. now, then, be sure that you have got to do finished work, finished in every minutest particular, for years, before your claims will be allowed. if you _were_ a pretender, your success in immediate prospect would be more promising; the very difficulty is that you are not--that you think--that the public must read you _humbly_, confessing that you have intelligence beyond its own. i said that the general public wants to be amused: i now add that it dearly desires to be flattered, or at least allowed to flatter itself. those people who have no thoughts of their own are the very ones who hate mortally to admit to themselves that any intelligence in the world is superior to their own. a noble nature is indeed never so delighted as when it finds something that may be lawfully reverenced; but all the ignoble keep up their self-complacence by shutting their eyes to all superiority. i state the case strongly, as you will feel it bye and bye. mind, i am not a disappointed man; and have met as generous appreciation as i ought to wish. i am not misanthropic, nor in the least soured. i say all this, not _against_ the public, but _for_ you. now, then, as to the essay. it is rich in thought. everywhere are the traces of a penetrating and sincere intellect. much of the expression is also good. the faults of it, _me judice_, are as follows: the introduction i think too long. i should nearly throw away the first five pages. your true beginning i think to be near the bottom of the sixth page, though the _island_ in the middle paragraph of that page is too fine to be lost. from the sixth to about the twentieth i read with hearty pleasure. then begin subordinate essays in illustration of your main theme. these are good in themselves, but their subordination is a little obscured. i think careless readers--and most of your readers, be sure, will be careless--will fail to perceive the connection. you are younger than i, and will hope more from your readers; but i find even superior men slow, _slow_, slow to understand--missing your point so often! i think the relationship must be brought out more strongly, and some very good sentences must be thrown out because they are more related to the subordinate than the commanding subject. this is about all that i have to say. sometimes your sentences are a little heavy, but you will find, little by little, happier terms of expression. i do not in the least believe that you cannot in time write as well as i. what i have done to earn expression i know better than you the crudities that i have outgrown or outlabored, i also know. you must be a little less careless about your spelling, simply because these slips will discredit your thought in the eyes of superficial critics. you understand, of course, that i speak above of the general public--not of the finer natures, who will welcome you with warm hands. i fear that the results of my reading will not correspond to your wishes, and that it was hardly worth your while to send me your ms. but i am obliged to you for informing me of your existence, for i augur good for my country from the discovery of every such intelligence as yours, and i pledge to you my warm interest and regard. very cordially yours, david a. wasson worcester, sept. , , my dear mr. burroughs,-- to the medicine proposition i say. yes. a man of your tastes and mental vigor should be able to do some clean work in that profession. i know not of any other established profession that allows a larger scope of mind than this. there is some danger of materialism, but this you have already weaponed yourself against, and the scientific studies that come in the line of the profession will furnish material for thought and expression which i am sure you will know well how to use. i am glad if my suggestions about your essay proved of some service to you. there is thought and statement in it which will certainly one day come to a market. the book, too, all in good season. life for you is very long, and you can take your time. take it by all means. give yourself large leisure to do your best. i am about setting up my household gods in worcester. this makes me in much haste, and therefore without another word i must say that i shall always be glad to hear from you, and that i am always truly your friend. d. a. wasson of the early nature papers which mr. burroughs wrote for the new york "leader," and which were grouped under the general title, "from the back country," there were five or six in number, of two or three columns each. one on "butter-making," of which i will quote the opening passage, fairly makes the mouth water:-- with green grass comes golden butter. with the bobolinks and the swallows, with singing groves, and musical winds, with june,--ah, yes! with tender, succulent, gorgeous june,--all things are blessed. the dairyman's heart rejoices, and the butter tray with its virgin treasure becomes a sight to behold. there lie the rich masses, fold upon fold, leaf upon leaf, fresh, sweet, and odorous, just as the ladle of the dairymaid dipped it from the churn, sweating great drops of buttermilk, and looking like some rare and precious ore. the cool spring water is the only clarifier needed to remove all dross and impurities and bring out all the virtues and beauties of this cream-evolved element. how firm and bright it becomes, how delicious the odor it emits! what vegetarian ever found it in his heart, or his palate either, to repudiate butter? the essence of clover and grass and dandelions and beechen woods is here. how wonderful the chemistry that from elements so common and near at hand produces a result so beautiful and useful! eureka! is not this the alchemy that turns into gold the commonest substances? how can transformation be more perfect? during the years of this early essay-writing, mr. burroughs was teaching country schools in the fall and winter, and working on the home farm in summer; at the same time he was reading serious books and preparing himself for whatever was in store for him. he read medicine for only three months, in the fall of , and then resumed teaching. his first magazine article about the birds was written in the summer or fall of , and appeared in the "atlantic" in the spring of . he learned from a friend to whom mr. sanborn had written that the article had pleased emerson. it was in , while in the currency bureau in washington, that he wrote the essays which make up his first nature book, "wake-robin." his first book, however, was not a nature book, but was "walt whitman as poet and person." it was published in , preceding "wake-robin" by four years. it has long been out of print, and is less known than his extended, riper work, "whitman, a. study," written in . a record of the early writings of mr. burroughs would not be complete without considering also his ventures into the field of poetry. in the summer of he wrote and printed his first verses (with the exception of some still earlier ones written in to the sweetheart who became his wife), which were addressed to his friend and comrade e. m. allen, subsequently the husband of elizabeth akers, the author of "backward, turn backward, o time, in your flight." the lines to e. m. a. were printed in the "saturday press." because they are the first of our author's verses to appear in print, i quote them here:-- to e. m. a. a change has come over nature since you and june were here; the sun has turned to the southward adown the steps of the year. the grass is ripe in the meadow, and the mowers swing in rhyme; the grain so green on the hillside is in its golden prime. no more the breath of the clover is borne on every breeze, no more the eye of the daisy is bright on meadow leas. the bobolink and the swallow have left for other clime-- they mind the sun when he beckons and go with summer's prime. buttercups that shone in the meadow like rifts of golden snow, they, too, have melted and vanished beneath the summer's glow. still at evenfall in the upland the vesper sparrow sings, and the brooklet in the pasture still waves its glassy rings. and the lake of fog to the southward with surges white as snow-- still at morn away in the distance i see it ebb and flow. but a change has come over nature, the youth of the year has gone; a grace from the wood has departed, and a freshness from the dawn. another poem, "loss and gain," was printed in the new york "independent" about the same time. loss and gain the ship that drops behind the rim of sea and sky, so pale and dim, still sails the seas with favored breeze, where other waves chant ocean's hymn. the wave that left this shore so wide, and led away the ebbing tide, is with its host on fairer coast, bedecked and plumed in all its pride. the grub i found encased in clay when next i came had slipped away on golden wing, with birds that sing, to mount and soar in sunny day. no thought or hope can e'er be lost-- the spring will come in spite of frost. go crop the branch of maple stanch, the root will gain what you exhaust. the man is formed as ground he tills-- decay and death lie 'neath his sills. the storm that beats, and solar heats, have helped to form whereon he builds. successive crops that lived and grew, and drank the air, the light, the dew, and then deceased, his soil increased in strength, and depth, and richness, too. from slow decay the ages grow, from blood and crime the centuries blow, what disappears beneath the years, will mount again as grain we sow. these rather commonplace verses, the first showing his love for comrades, the others his philosophical bent, were the forerunners of that poem of mr. burroughs's--"waiting"--which has become a household treasure, often without the ones who cherish it knowing its source. "waiting" was written in the fall of . in response to my inquiry as to its genesis, its author said:-- i was reading medicine in the office of a country doctor at the time and was in a rather gloomy and discouraged state of mind. my outlook upon life was anything but encouraging. i was poor. i had no certain means of livelihood. i had married five years before, and, at a venture, i had turned to medicine as a likely solution of my life's problems. the civil war was raging and that, too, disturbed me. it sounded a call of duty which increased my perturbations; yet something must have said to me, "courage! all will yet be well. you are bound to have your own, whatever happens." doubtless this feeling had been nurtured in me by the brave words of emerson. at any rate, there in a little dingy back room of dr. hull's office, i paused in my study of anatomy and wrote "waiting." i had at that time had some literary correspondence with david a. wasson whose essays in the "atlantic" i had read with deep interest. i sent him a copy of the poem. he spoke of it as a vigorous piece of work, but seemed to see no special merit in it. i then sent it to "knickerbocker's magazine," where it was printed, in december, i think, in . it attracted no attention, and was almost forgotten by me till many years afterwards when it appeared in whittier's "songs of three centuries." this indorsement by whittier gave it vogue. it began to be copied by newspapers and religious journals, and it has been traveling on the wings of public print ever since. i do not think it has any great poetic merit. the secret of its success is its serious religious strain, or what people interpret as such. it embodies a very comfortable optimistic philosophy which it chants in a solemn, psalm-like voice. its sincerity carries conviction. it voices absolute faith and trust in what, in the language of our fathers, would be called the ways of god with man. i have often told persons, when they have questioned me about the poem, that i came of the old school baptist stock, and that these verses show what form the old calvinistic doctrine took in me. let me quote here the letter which mr. wasson wrote to the author of "waiting," on receiving the first autograph copy of it ever written:-- worcester, dec. , . mr. burroughs,-- my dear sir,--i beg your pardon a thousand times for having neglected so long to acknowledge the letter containing your vigorous verses. excess of work, and then a dash of illness consequent upon this excess, must be my excuse--by your kind allowance. the verses are vigorous and flowing, good in sentiment, and certainly worthy of being sent to "some paper," if you like to print them. on the other hand, they do not indicate to me that you have any special call to write verse. a man of your ability and fineness of structure must necessarily be enough of a poet not to fail altogether in use of the poetical form. but all that i know of you indicates a predominance of reflective intellect--a habit of mind quite foreign from the lyrical. i think it may be very good practice to compose in verse, as it exercises you in terse and rhythmical expression; but i question whether your vocation lies in that direction. after all, you must not let anything which i, or any one, may say stand in your way, if you feel any clear leading of your genius in a given direction. what i have said is designed to guard you against an expenditure of power and hope in directions that may yield you but a partial harvest, when the same ought to be sown on more fruitful fields. i think you have unusual reflective power; and i am sure that in time you will find time and occasion for its exercise, and will accomplish some honorable tasks. very truly yours, d. a. wasson it maybe fancy on my part, but i have a feeling that, all unconsciously to mr. burroughs, a sentence or two in mr. wasson's letter of september , , had something to do with inspiring the mood of trustfulness and the attitude of waiting in serenity, which gave birth to this poem:-- ... the book, too, all in good season. life for you is very long, and you can take your time. take it by all means. give yourself large leisure to do your best. whether or not this is so, i am sure the sympathy and understanding of such a man as mr. wasson was a godsend to our struggling writer, and was one of the most beautiful instances in his life of "his own" coming to him. "waiting" seems to have gone all over the world. it has been several times set to music, and its authorship has even been claimed by others. it has been parodied, more's the pity; and spurious stanzas have occasionally been appended to it; while an inferior stanza, which the author dropped years ago, is from time to time resurrected by certain insistent ones. originally, it had seven stanzas; the sixth, discarded by its author, ran as follows:-- you flowret, nodding in the wind, is ready plighted to the bee; and, maiden, why that look unkind? for, lo! thy lover seeketh thee. this stanza is a detraction from the poem as we know it, and assuredly its author has a right to drop it. concerning the fifth stanza, mr. burroughs says he has never liked it, and has often substituted one which he wrote a few years ago. the stanza he would reject is-- the waters know their own and draw the brook that springs in yonder heights; so flows the good with equal law unto the soul of pure delights. the one he would offer instead-- the law of love binds every heart, and knits it to its utmost kin, nor can our lives flow long apart from souls our secret souls would win. and yet he is not satisfied with this; he says it is too subtle and lacks the large, simple imagery of the original lines. the legion who cherish this poem in their hearts are justly incensed whenever they come across a copy of it to which some one, a few years ago, had the effrontery to add this inane stanza:-- serene i fold my hands and wait, whate'er the storms of life may be, faith guides me up to heaven's gate, and love will bring my own to me. one of mr. burroughs's friends (joel benton), himself a poet, in an article tracing the vicissitudes of this poem, shows pardonable indignation at the "impudence and hardihood of the unmannered meddler" who tacked on the "heaven's gate" stanza, and adds:-- the lyric as burroughs wrote it embodies a motive, or concept, that has scarcely been surpassed for amenability to poetic treatment, and for touching and impressive point. its partly elusive outlines add to its charm. its balance between hint and affirmation; its faith in universal forces, and its tender yet virile expression, are all shining qualities, apparent to the critical, and hypnotic to the general, reader. there is nothing in it that need even stop at "heaven's gate." it permits the deserving reader by happy instinct to go through that portal--without waiting outside to parade his sect mark. but the force of the poem and catholicity of its sanctions are either utterly destroyed or ridiculously enfeebled, by capping it with a sectarian and narrowly interpreted climax. although the poem is so well known, i shall quote it here in the form preferred by its author;-- waiting serene, i fold my hands and wait, nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; i rave no more 'gainst time or fate, for lo! my own shall come to me. i stay my haste, i make delays, for what avails this eager pace? i stand amid th' eternal ways, and what is mine shall know my face. asleep, awake, by night or day, the friends i seek are seeking me; no wind can drive my bark astray, nor change the tide of destiny. what matter if i stand alone? i wait with joy the coming years; my heart shall reap where it hath sown, and garner up its fruit of tears. the waters know their own and draw the brook that springs in yonder heights; so flows the good with equal law unto the soul of pure delights. the stars come nightly to the sky, the tidal wave comes to the sea; nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, can keep my own away from me. a winter day at slabsides "come and go to slabsides for over sunday--i think we can keep warm. we will have an old-fashioned time; i will roast a duck in the pot; it will be great fun." this invitation came from mr. burroughs in to friends who proposed to call on him early in december. riverby was closed for the season, its occupants tarrying in poughkeepsie, but, ever ready for an adventure, the sage of slabsides proposed a winter picnic at his cabin in the hills. a ride of some two hours from new york brings us to west park, where our host awaits us. a stranger, glancing at his white hair and beard, might credit his seventy-five years, but not when looking at his ruddy face with the keen, bright eyes, or at his alert, vigorous movements. together with blankets and a market-basket of provisions we are stowed away in a wagon and driven up the steep, winding way; at first along a country road, then into a wood's road with huge silurian rocks cropping out everywhere, showing here and there seams of quartz and patches of moss and ferns. "in there," said mr. burroughs, pointing to an obscure path, "i had a partridge for a neighbor. she had a nest there. i went to see her every day till she became uneasy about it, and let me know i was no longer welcome." "yonder," he continued, indicating a range of wooded hills against the wintry sky, "is the classic region of 'popple town hill,' and over there is 'pang yang.'" some friendly spirit has preceded us to the cabin; a fire is burning in the great stone fireplace, and mattresses and bedding are exposed to the heat. moving these away, the host makes room for us near the hearth. he piles on the wood, and we are soon permeated by the warmth of the fire and of the unostentatious hospitality of slabsides. how good it is to be here! the city, with its rush and roar and complexities, seems far away. how satisfying it is to strip off the husks and get at the kernel of things! there is more chance for high thinking when one is big enough to have plain living. how we surround ourselves with non-essentials, how we are dominated with the "mania of owning things"--one feels all this afresh in looking around at this simple, well-built cabin with its few needful things close at hand, and with life reduced to the simplest terms. one sees here exemplified the creed mr. burroughs outlined several years ago in his essay "an outlook upon life":-- i am bound to praise the simple life, because i have lived it and found it good.... i love a small house, plain clothes, simple living. many persons know the luxury of a skin bath--a plunge in the pool or the wave unhampered by clothing. that is the simple life--direct and immediate contact with things, life with the false wrappings torn away--the fine house, the fine equipage, the expensive habits, all cut off. how free one feels, how good the elements taste, how close one gets to them, how they fit one's body and one's soul! to see the fire that warms you, or better yet, to cut the wood that feeds the fire that warms you; to see the spring where the water bubbles up that slakes your thirst, and to dip your pail into it; to see the beams that are the stay of your four walls, and the timbers that uphold the roof that shelters you; to be in direct and personal contact with the sources of your material life; to want no extras, no shields; to find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter; to find a quest of wild berries more satisfying than a gift of tropic fruit; to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest, or over a wild flower in spring--these are some of the rewards of the simple life. (illustration of the living-room. from a photograph by m. h. fanning) the two men were soon talking companionably. when persons of wide reading and reflection, and of philosophic bent, who have lived long and been mellowed by life, come together, the interchange of thought is bound to be valuable; things are so well said, so inevitably said, that the listener thinks he cannot forget the manner of saying; but thoughts crowd thick and fast, comments on men and measures, on books and events, are numerous and varied, but hard to recapture. the logs ignite, sending out their cheering heat, the coals glow, the sparks fly upward, warmth and radiance envelop us; but an attempt to warm the reader by the glow of that fireside talk is almost as futile as an effort to dispel to-day's cold by the fire of yesterday. a few deserted cottages perched on the rocks near by show us where the summer neighbors of our host live, but at all seasons his wild neighbors are the ones he hobnobs with the most; while his indoor companions are montaigne, sainte-beuve, carlyle, arnold, wordsworth, darwin, huxley, emerson, whitman, bergson, and many others, ancient and modern. "i've been rereading emerson's essay on 'immortality' lately, evenings in my study down there by the river," said mr. burroughs. "i had forgotten it was so noble and fine--he makes much of the idea of permanence." in this connection he spoke of john fiske and his contributions to literature, telling of the surprise he felt on first meeting fiske at harvard, to see the look of the _bon vivant_ in one in whom the intellectual and the spiritual were so prominent. laughing, he recalled the amusement of the college boys at fiske's comical efforts to discover a piece of chalk dropped during his lecture on "immortality." standing on the hearth, a merry twinkle in his eyes, he recited some humorous lines which he had written concerning the episode. reverting to the question of immortality in a serious vein, he summed up the debated question much as he has done in one of his essays,--that it has been good to be here, and will be good to go hence; that we know not whence we come, nor whither we go; were not consulted as to our coming, and shall not be as to our going; but that it is all good; all for "the glory of god;" though we must use this phrase in a larger sense than the cramped interpretation of the theologian. all the teeming life of the globe, the millions on millions in the microscopic world, and the millions on millions of creatures that can be seen by the naked eye--those who have been swept away, those here now, those who will come after--all appearing in their appointed time and place, playing their parts and vanishing, and to the old question "why?" we may as well answer, "for the glory of god"; if we will only conceive a big enough glory, and a big enough god. his utter trust in things as they are seemed a living embodiment of that sublime line in "waiting"-- "i stand amid the eternal ways"; and, thus standing, he is content to let the powers that be have their way with him. "to all these mysteries i fall back upon the last words i heard whitman say, shortly before the end--commonplace words, but they sum it up: 'it's all right, john, it's all right'; but whitman had the active, sustaining faith in immortality-- 'i laugh at what you call dissolution, and i know the amplitude of time.'" as the afternoon wanes, mr. burroughs hangs the kettle on the crane, broils the chops, and with a little help from one of the guests, soon has supper on the table, a discussion of bergson's philosophy suffering only occasional interruptions; such as, "where _have_ those women (summer occupants of slabsides) put my holder?" or, "see if there isn't some salt in the cupboard." "there! i forgot to bring up eggs for breakfast, but here are other things," he mutters as he rummages in his market-basket. "that memory of mine is pretty tricky; sometimes i can't remember things any better than i can find them when they are right under my nose. i've just found a line from emerson that i've been hunting for two days--'the worm striving to be man.' i looked my emerson through and through, and no worm; then i found in joel benton's concordance of emerson that the line was in 'may-day'; he even cited the page, but my emerson had no printing on that page. i searched all through 'may-day,' and still no worm; i looked again with no better success, and was on the point of giving up when i spied the worm--it almost escaped me--" "it must have turned, didn't it?" "yes, the worm surely turned, or i never should have seen it," he confessed. the feminine member of the trio wields the dish-mop while the host dries the dishes, and the dreamer before the fire luxuriates in the thought that his help is not needed. the talk on philosophy and religion does not make the host forget to warm sheets and blankets and put hot bricks in the beds to insure against the fast-gathering cold. the firelight flickers on the bark-covered rafters, lighting up the yellow-birch partition between living-room and bedroom downstairs, and plays upon the rustic stairway that leads to the two rooms overhead, as we sit before the hearth in quiet talk. outside the moonlight floods the great open space around the cabin, revealing outlines of the rocky inclosure. no sounds in all that stillness without, and within only the low voices of the friends, and the singing logs. mr. burroughs tells of his visit, in october, to the graves of his maternal grandparents:-- "they died in , my first season away from home, and there they have lain for fifty-seven years, and i had never been to their graves! i'm glad i went; it made them live again for me. how plainly i could see the little man in his blue coat with brass buttons, with his decidedly irish features! and grandmother, a stout woman, with quaint, homely ways. the moss is on their gravestones now, and two evergreen trees wax strong above them. i found an indigo-bird had built her nest above their graves. i broke off the branch and brought it home." "there! get up and use that water before it freezes over," the host calls out the next morning, as, mounting the stairs, he places a pitcher of hot water by the door. it is bitter cold, one's fingers ache, and one wonders if, after all, it is so much fun to live in a cabin in the woods in the dead of winter. but a crackling fire below and savory smells of bacon and coffee reconcile one, and the day begins right merrily. and what a dinner the author sets before us! what fun to see him prepare it, discussing meanwhile the glory that was greece and the grandeur that was rome, recounting anecdotes of boyhood, touching on politics and religion, on current events, on conflicting views of the vitalists and the chemico-physicists, on this and on that, but never to the detriment of his duck. it is true he did serenely fold his hands and wait, between times. then what an event to see him lift the smoking cover and try the bird with a fork--" to see if the duck is relenting," he explains. at a certain time he arises from a grave psychological discussion to rake out hollow places in the coals where he buries potatoes and onions. "the baking of an onion," he declares, "takes all the conceit out of him. he is sweet and humble after his baptism of fire." then the talk soars above ducks and onions, until he gives one of the idlers permission to prepare the salad and lay the table. for a dinner to remember all one's days, commend me to a thoroughly relented duck; a mealy, ash-baked potato; an onion (yea, several of them) devoid of conceit, and well buttered and salted; and a salad of slabsides celery and lettuce; with riverby apples and pears, and beechnuts to complete the feast--beechnuts gathered in october up in the catskills, gathered one by one as the chipmunk gathers them, by the "laird of woodchuck lodge," as he is called on his native heath, though he is one and the same with the master of slabsides. we hear no sounds all the day outside the cabin but the merry calls of chickadees, until in mid-afternoon an unwelcome "halloa!" tells us the wagon is come to take us down to riverby. reluctantly the fire is extinguished, and the wide, hospitable door of slabsides closes behind us. riverby, "the house that jack built," as the builder boasted, is a house interesting and individual, though conforming somewhat to the conventions of the time when it was built ( ). it is as immaculate within as its presiding genius can make it, presenting a sharp contrast to the easy-going housekeeping of the mountain cabin. we tarry a few minutes in the little bark-covered study, detached from the house and overlooking the hudson, where mr. burroughs does his writing when at home; we see the rustic summer-house near by, and the riverby vineyards, formerly husbanded by "the vine-dresser of esopus," as his friends used to call him; now by his son julian, who combines, like his father before him, grape-growing with essay-writing. a pleasant hour is spent in the artistic little cottage, planned and built by the author and his son, where live mr. julian burroughs and his family. here the grandfather has many a frolic with his three grandchildren, who know him as "baba." john burroughs the younger is his special pride. who knows but the naturalist stands somewhat in awe of his grandson?--for as the youngster reaches for his "teddy," and says sententiously, "bear!" the elder never ventures a word about the dangers of "sham natural history." boarding the west shore train, laden with fruit and beechnuts and pleasant memories, we return to the city's roar and whirl, dreaming still of the calls of chickadees in the bare woods and of quiet hours before the fire at slabsides. back to pepacton there has always been a haunting suggestiveness to me about the expression _rue du temps perdu_--the street of lost time. down this shadowy vista we all come to peer with tear-dimmed eyes sooner or later. usually this pensive retrospection is the premonitory sign that one is nearing the last milestone before the downhill side of life begins. but to some this yearning backward glance comes early; they feel its compelling power while still in the vigor of middle life. why this is so it is not easy to say, but imaginative, brooding natures who live much in their emotions are prone to this chronic homesickness for the past, this ever-recurring, mournful retrospect, this tender, wistful gaze into the years that are no more. it is this tendency in us all as we grow older that makes us drift back to the scenes of our youth; it satisfies a deep-seated want to look again upon the once familiar places. we seek them out with an eagerness wholly wanting in ordinary pursuits. the face of the fields, the hills, the streams, the house where one was born--how they are invested with something that exists nowhere else, wander where we will! in their midst memories come crowding thick and fast; things of moment, critical episodes, are mingled with the most trivial happenings; smiles and tears and sighs are curiously blended as we stroll down the street of lost time. while we are all more or less under this spell of the past, some natures are more particularly enthralled by it, even in the very zenith of life, showing it to be of temperamental origin rather than the outcome of the passing years. of such a temperament is john burroughs. now, when the snows of five-and-seventy winters have whitened his head, we do not wonder when we hear him say, "ah! the past! the past has such a hold on me!" but even before middle life he experienced this yearning, even then confessed that he had for many years viewed everything in the light of the afternoon's sun--"a little faded and diluted, and with a pensive tinge." "it almost amounts to a disease," he reflects, "this homesickness which home cannot cure--a strange complaint. sometimes when away from the old scenes it seems as if i must go back to them, as if i should find the old contentment and satisfaction there in the circle of the hills. but i know i should not--the soul's thirst can never be slaked. my hunger is the hunger of the imagination. bring all my dead back again, and place me amid them in the old home, and a vague longing and regret would still possess me." as early as his forty-fifth birthday he wrote in his journal: "indeed, the past begins to grow at my back like a great pack, and it seems as if it would overwhelm me quite before i get to be really an old man. as time passes, the world becomes more and more a golgotha,--a place of graves,--even if one does not actually lose by death his friends and kindred. the days do not merely pass, we bury them; they are of us, like us, and in them we bury our own image, a real part of ourselves." perhaps, among the poems of mr. burroughs, next to "waiting" the verses that have the most universal appeal are those of-- the return he sought the old scenes with eager feet-- the scenes he had known as a boy; "oh, for a draught of those fountains sweet, and a taste of that vanished joy!" he roamed the fields, he wooed the streams, his school-boy paths essayed to trace; the orchard ways recalled his dreams, the hills were like his mother's face. oh, sad, sad hills! oh, cold, cold hearth! in sorrow he learned this truth-- one may return to the place of his birth, he cannot go back to his youth. but a half-loaf is better than no bread, and mr. burroughs has now yielded to this deep-seated longing for his boyhood scenes, and has gone back to the place of his birth amid the catskills; and one who sees him there during the midsummer days--alert, energetic, curious concerning the life about him--is almost inclined to think he has literally gone back to his youth as well, for the boy in him is always coming to the surface. it was on the watershed of the pepacton (the east branch of the delaware), in the town of roxbury, delaware county, new york, that john burroughs was born, and there that he gathered much of the harvest of his earlier books; it was there also that most of his more recent books were written. although he left the old scenes in his youth, his heart has always been there. he went back many years ago and named one of his books ("pepacton") from the old stream, and he has now gone back and arranged for himself a simple summer home on the farm where he first saw the light. most of his readers have heard much of slabsides, the cabin in the wooded hills back of the hudson, and of his conventional home, riverby, at west park, new york; but as yet the public has heard little of his more remote retreat on his native heath. (illustration of woodchuck lodge and barn. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) for several years it has been his custom to slip away to the old home in delaware county on one pretext or another--to boil sap in the old sugar bush and rejoice in the april frolic of the robins; to meander up montgomery hollow for trout; to gather wild strawberries in the june meadows and hobnob with the bobolinks; to saunter in the hemlocks in quest of old friends in the tree-tops; and--yes, truth compels me to confess--to sit in the fields with rifle in hand and wage war against the burrowing woodchuck which is such a menace to the clover and vegetables of the farmer. in the summer of , mr. burroughs rescued an old dwelling fast going to decay which stood on the farm a half-mile from the burroughs homestead, and there, with friends, camped out for a few weeks, calling the place, because of the neighbors who most frequented it, "camp monax," or, in homelier language, "woodchuck lodge." in the succeeding summers he has spent most of his time there. though repairing and adding many improvements, he has preserved the simple, primitive character of the old house, has built a roomy veranda across its front, made tables, bookcases, and other furniture of simple rustic character, and there in summer he dwells with a few friends, as contented and serene a man as can be found in this complicated world of to-day. there his old friends seek him out, and new ones come to greet him. artists and sculptors paint and model him, and photographers carry away souvenirs of their pilgrimages. in order to withdraw himself completely during his working hours from the domestic life, mr. burroughs instituted a study in the hay-barn, a few rods up the hill from the house. a rough box, the top of which is covered with manilla paper, an old hickory chair, and a hammock constitute his furnishings. the hay carpet and overflowing haymows yield a fragrance most acceptable to him, and through the great doorway he looks out upon the unfrequented road and up to old clump, the mountain in the lap of which his father's farm is cradled, the mountain which he used to climb to salt the sheep, the mountain which is the haunt of the hermit thrush. (his nieces and nephews at the old home always speak of this songster as "uncle john's bird.") (illustration of mr. burroughs in the hay-barn study, woodchuck lodge. from a photograph by r. j. h. deloach) as i watched mr. burroughs start out morning after morning with his market-basket of manuscripts on his arm, and briskly walk to his rude study, i asked myself, "is there another literary man anywhere, now that tolstoy has gone, who is so absolutely simple and unostentatious in tastes and practice as is john burroughs?" how he has learned to strip away the husks and get at the kernels! how superbly he ignores non-essentials! how free he is from the tyranny of things! there in the comfort of the hills among which his life began, with his friends around him, he rejoices in the ever-changing face of nature, enjoys the fruits of his garden, his forenoons of work, and the afternoons when friends from near and far walk across the fields, or drive, or motor up to woodchuck lodge; and best of all, he enjoys the peace that evening brings--those late afternoon hours when the shadow of old clump is thrown on the broad mountain-slope across the valley, and when the long, silvery notes of the vesper sparrow chant "peace, goodwill, and then good-night." as the shadows deepen, he is wont to carry his victor out to the stone wall and let the music from brahms's "cradle song" or schubert's "serenade" float to us as we sit on the veranda, hushed into humble gratitude for our share in this quiet life. to see mr. burroughs daily amid these scenes; to realize how they are a part of him, and how inimitably he has transferred them to his books; to roam over the pastures, follow the spring paths, linger by the stone walls he helped to build, sit with him on the big rock in the meadow where as a boy he sat and dreamed; to see him in the everyday life--hoeing in the garden, tiptoeing about the house preparing breakfast while his guests are lazily dozing on the veranda; to eat his corn-cakes, or the rice-flour pudding with its wild strawberry accompaniment; to see him rocking his grandson in the old blue cradle in which he himself was rocked; to picnic in the beech woods with him, climb toward old clump at sunset and catch the far-away notes of the hermit; to loll in the hammocks under the apple trees, or to sit in the glow of the franklin stove of a cool september evening while he and other philosophic or scientific friends discuss weighty themes; to hear his sane, wise, and often humorous comments on the daily papers, and his absolutely independent criticism of books and magazines--to witness and experience all this, and more, is to enjoy a privilege so rare that i feel selfish unless i try to share it, in a measure, with less fortunate friends of our friend. (illustration of cradle in which john burroughs was rocked. from a photograph by dr. john d. johnson) it has been my good fortune to spend many delightful summers with mr. burroughs at his old home, and also at woodchuck lodge. on my first visit he led me to a hilltop and pointed off toward a deep gorge where the pepacton, although it is a placid stream near roxbury, rises amid scenery wild and rugged. it drains this high pastoral country, where the farms hang upon the mountainsides or lie across the long, sloping hills. the look of those farms impressed me as the fields of england impressed mr. burroughs--"as though upon them had settled an atmosphere of ripe and loving husbandry." i was often reminded in looking upon them of that line of emerson's: "the day, immeasurably long, sleeps over the wide, warm fields." there is a fresh, blue, cleansed appearance to the hills, "like a newly-washed lamp chimney," as mr. burroughs sometimes said. our writer's overmastering attachment to his birthplace seems due largely to the fact that the springs, the hills, and the wooded mountains are inextricably blended with his parents and his youth. as he has somewhere said, "one's own landscape comes in time to be a sort of outlying part of him; he has sown himself broadcast upon it... planted himself in the fields, builded himself in the stone walls, and evoked the sympathy of the hills in his struggle." from a hilltop he pointed off to the west and said, "yonder is the direction that my grandparents came, in the 's, from stamford, cutting a road through the woods, and there, over batavia hill, father rode when he went courting mother." then we went up the tansy-bordered road, past the little graveyard, and over to the site where his grandfather's first house stood. as we wandered about the old stone foundations, his reminiscences were interrupted by the discovery of a junco's nest. on the way back he pointed across the wide valley to the west settlement schoolhouse where he and his brothers used to go, although his first school was in a little stone building which is still standing on the outskirts of roxbury, and known thereabouts as "the old stone jug." mr. burroughs remembers his first day in this school, and the little suit he wore, of bluish striped cotton, with epaulets on the shoulders which flopped when he ran. he fell asleep one day and tumbled off the seat, cutting his head; he was carried to a neighboring farmhouse, and he still vividly recalls the smell of camphor which pervaded the room when he regained consciousness. he was about four years of age. he remembers learning his "a-b ab's," as they were called, and just how the column of letters looked in the old spelling-book; remembers sitting on the floor under the desks and being called out once in a while to say his letters: "hen meeker, a boy bigger than i was, stuck on _e_. i can remember the teacher saying to him; 'and you can't tell that? why, little johnny burroughs can tell you what it is. come, johnny.' and i crawled out and went up and said it was e, like a little man." up the hill a short distance from the old homestead he indicated the "turn 'n the road," as it passes by the "deacon woods"; this, he said, was his first journey into the world. he was about four years old when, running away, he got as far as this turn; then, looking back and seeing how far he was from the house, he became frightened and ran back crying. "i have seen a young robin," he added, "do the very same thing on its first journey from the nest." "one of my earliest recollections," he said, "is that of lying on the hearth one evening to catch crickets that mother said ate holes in our stockings--big, light-colored, long-legged house crickets, with long horns; one would jump a long way. "another early recollection comes to me: one summer day, when i was three or four years old, on looking skyward, i saw a great hawk sailing round in big circles. i was suddenly seized with a panic of fear and hid behind the stone wall. "the very earliest recollection of my life is that of the 'hired girl' throwing my cap down the steps, and as i stood there crying, i looked up on the sidehill and saw father with a bag slung across his shoulders, striding across the furrows sowing grain. it was a warm spring day, and as i looked hillward wistfully, i wished father would come down and punish the girl for throwing my cap down the stairs--little insignificant things, but how they stick in the memory!" "i see myself as a little boy rocking this cradle," said mr. burroughs, as he indicated the quaint blue wooden cradle (which i had found in rummaging through the attic at the old home, and had installed in woodchuck lodge), "or minding the baby while mother bakes or mends or spins. i hear her singing; i see father pushing on the work of the farm." most of the soil in delaware county is decomposed old red sandstone. speaking of this soil mr. burroughs said, "in the spring when the plough has turned the turf, i have seen the breasts of these broad hills glow like the breasts of robins." he is fond of studying the geology of the region now. i have seen him dig away the earth the better to expose the old glacier tracings, and then explain to his grandchildren how the glaciers ages ago made the marks on the rocks. to me one of the finest passages in his recent book "time and change" is one wherein he describes the look of repose and serenity of his native hills, "as if the fret and fever of life were long since passed with them." it is a passage in which he looks at his home hills through the eye of the geologist, but with the vision of the poet--the inner eye which assuredly yields him "the bliss of solitude." one evening as we sat in the kitchen at the old home, he described the corn-shelling of the olden days: "i see the great splint basket with the long frying-pan handle thrust through its ears across the top, held down by two chairs on either end, and two of my brothers sitting in the chairs and scraping the ears of corn against the iron. i hear the kernels rattle, a shower of them falling in the basket, with now and then one flying out in the room. with the cobs that lie in a pile beside the basket i build houses, carrying them up till they topple, or till one of the shelters knocks them over. mother is sitting by, sewing, her tallow dip hung on the back of a chair. winter reigns without. how it all comes up before me!" he remembers when four or five years old crying over a thing which had caused him deep chagrin: a larger boy--"the meanest boy i ever knew, and he became the meanest man," he said with spirit--"found me sulking under a tree in the corner of the school-yard; he bribed me with a slate pencil into confessing what i was crying about, but as soon as i had told him, he ran away with the pencil, shouting my secret to the other boys." one day we went 'cross lots after spearmint for jelly for the table at woodchuck lodge, and an abandoned house near the mint-patches recalled to mr. burroughs the first time he had heard the word "taste" used, except in reference to food. the woman who had lived in this house, while calling at his home and seeing his attempt at drawing something, had said, "what taste that boy has!" "it made me open my eyes--'taste'!--then there was another kind of taste than the one i knew about--the taste of things i ate!" at a place in the road near the old stone schoolhouse, he showed me where, as a lad of thirteen, perhaps, he had stopped to watch some men working the road, and had first heard the word "antiquities" used. "they had uncovered and removed a large flat stone, and under it were other stones, probably arranged by the hands of earlier roadmakers. david corbin, a man who had had some schooling, said, as they exposed the earlier layers, 'ah! here are antiquities!' the word made a lasting impression on me." (illustration of view of the catskills from woodchuck lodge. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) one of our favorite walks at sunset was up the hill beyond the old home where the road winds around a neglected graveyard. from this high vantage-ground one can see two of the catskill giants--double top and mount graham. it was not a favorite walk of the boy john burroughs. he told how, even in his early teens, at dusk, he would tiptoe around the corner past the graveyard, afraid to run for fear a gang of ghosts would be at his heels. "when i got down the road a ways, though, how i would run!" he was always "scairy" if he had to come along the edge of the woods alone at nightfall, and was even afraid of the big black hole under the barn in the daytime: "i was tortured with the thought of what might lurk there in that great black abyss, and would hustle through my work of cleaning the stable, working like hercules, and often sending in 'cuff,' the dog, to scare 'em out." fed on stories of ghosts and hobgoblins in childhood, his active, sensitive imagination became an easy prey to these fears. but we do outgrow some things. in the summer of this grown-up boy waxed so bold that he sat in the barn with its black hole underneath and wrote of "the phantoms behind us." there was still something herculean in his task; he looked boldly down into the black abysms of time, not without some shrinking, it is true, saw the "huge first nothing," faced the spectres as they rose before him, wrestled with them, and triumphantly conquered by acknowledging each phantom as a friendly power--a creature on whose shoulders he had raised himself to higher and higher levels; he saw that though the blackness was peopled with uncouth and gigantic forms, out of all these there at last arose the being man, who could put all creatures under his feet. along the road between the old home and woodchuck lodge are some rocks which were the "giant stairs" of his childhood. on these he played, and he is fond now of pausing and resting there as he recalls events of those days. "are these rocks very old?" some one asked him one day. "oh, yes; they've been here since adam was a kitten." whichever way he turns, memories of early days awaken; as he himself has somewhere said in print, "there is a deposit of him all over the landscape where he has lived." as we have learned, mr. burroughs seems to have been more alive than his brothers and playmates, to have had wider interests and activities. when, a lad, he saw his first warbler in the "deacon woods," the black-throated blue-back, he was excited and curious as to what the strange bird could be (so like a visitant from another clime it seemed); the other boys met his queries with indifference, but for him it was the event of the day; it was far more, it was the keynote to all his days; it opened his eyes to the life about him--here, right in the "deacon woods," were such exquisite creatures! it fired him with a desire to find out about them. that tiny flitting warbler! how far its little wings have carried it! what an influence it has had on american literature, and on the lives of readers for the past fifty years, sending them to nature, opening their eyes to the beauty that is common and near at hand! one feels like thanking the giver of all good that a little barefoot boy noted the warbler that spring day as it flitted about in the beeches wood. life has been sweeter and richer because of it. down the road a piece is the place where this boy made a miniature sawmill, sawing cucumbers for logs. on this very rock where we sit he used to catch the flying grasshoppers early of an august morning--"the big brown fellows that fly like birds"; they would congregate here during the night to avail themselves of the warmth of the rocks, and here he would stop on his way from driving the cows to pasture, and catch them napping. yonder in the field by a stone wall, under a maple which is no longer standing, in his early twenties he read schlemiel's "philosophy of history," one of the volumes which, when a youth, he had found in an old bookstall in new york, on the occasion of his first trip there. "off there through what we used to call the 'long woods' lies the road along which father used to travel in the autumn when he took his butter to catskill, fifty miles away. each boy went in turn. when it came my turn to go, i was in a great state of excitement for a week beforehand, for fear my clothes would not be ready, or else it would be too cold, or that the world would come to an end before the time of starting. perched high on a spring-seat, i made the journey and saw more sights and wonders than i have ever seen on a journey since." on the drive up from the village he showed me the place, a mile or more from their haunts on the breezy mountain lands, where the sheep were driven annually to be washed. it was a deep pool then, and a gristmill stood near by. he said he could see now the huddled sheep, and the overhanging rocks with the phoebes' nests in the crevices. "down in the hollow," as they call the village of robbery, he drew my attention to the building which was once the old academy, and where he had his dream of going to school. he remembers as a lad of thirteen going down to the village one evening to hear a man, mclaurie, talk up the academy before there was one in roxbury. "i remember it as if it were yesterday; a few of the leading men of the village were there. i was the only boy. i've wondered since what possessed me to go. in his talk the man spoke of what a blessing it would be to boys of that vicinity, pointing me out and saying, 'now, like that boy, there.' i recall how i dropped my head and blushed. he was a small man, very much in earnest. when i heard of his death a few years ago, it gave me long, long thoughts. he finally got the academy going, taught it, and had a successful school there for several years, but i never got there. the school in the west settlement, father thought, was good enough for me. but my desire to go, and dreaming of it, impressed it and him upon me more, perhaps, than the boys who really went were impressed. how outside of it all i felt when i used to go down there to the school exhibitions! it was after that that i had my dream of going to harpersfield seminary--the very name had a romantic sound. though father had promised me i might go, when the time came he couldn't afford it; he didn't mean to go back on his word, but there was very little money--i wonder how they got along so well as they did with so little." "as a boy it had been instilled into my mind that god would strike one dead for mocking him. one day ras jenkins and i were crossing this field when it began to thunder. ras turned up his lips to the clouds contemptuously. 'oh, don't, you'll be struck,' i cried, cringing in expectation of the avenging thunderbolt. what a revelation it was when he was not struck! i immediately began to think, 'now, maybe god isn't so easily offended as i thought'; but it seemed to me any god with dignity ought to have been offended by such an act." mr. burroughs showed me the old rosebush in the pasture, all that was left to mark the site where a house had once stood; even before his boyhood days this house had become a thing of the past. the roses, though, had always been a joy to him, and had played such a part in his early days that he had transplanted some of the old bush to a spot near his doorsteps at slabsides. once when he sent me some of the roses he wrote of them thus: "the roses of my boyhood! take the first barefooted country lad you see with homemade linen trousers and shirt, and ragged straw hat, and put some of these roses in his hand, and you see me as i was fifty-five years ago. they are the identical roses, mind you. sometime i will show you the bush in the old pasture where they grew." one day we followed the course he and his brothers and sisters used to take on their way to school. leaving the highway near the old graveyard, we went down across a meadow, then through a beech wood, and on through the pastures in the valley along which a trout brook used to flow, on across more meadows and past where a neglected orchard was, till we came to where the little old schoolhouse itself stood. how these trout streams used to lure him to play hookey! all the summer noonings, too, were spent there. he spoke feelingly of the one that coursed through the hemlocks--"loitering, log-impeded, losing itself in the dusky, fragrant depths of the hemlocks." they used to play hookey down at stratton falls, too, and get the green streaks in the old red sandstone rocks to make slate pencils of, trying them on their teeth to make sure they were soft enough not to scratch their slates. the woods have been greatly mutilated in which they used to loiter on the way to school and gather crinkle-root to eat with their lunches,--though they usually ate it all up before lunch-time came, he said. in one of his books mr. burroughs speaks of a schoolmate who, when dying, said, "i must hurry, i have a long way to go over a hill and through a wood, and it is getting dark." this was his brother wilson, and he doubtless had in mind this very course they used to take in going to school. this school (where jay gould was his playmate) he attended only until he was twelve years of age. a rather curious reciprocal help these two lads gave each other--especially curious in the light of their subsequent careers as writer and financier. the boy john burroughs was one day feeling very uncomfortable because he could not furnish a composition required of him. eight lines only were sufficient if the task was completed on time, but the time was up and no line was written. this meant being kept after school to write twelve lines. in this extremity. jay gould came to his rescue with the following doggerel:-- "time is flying past, night is coming fast, i, minus two, as you all know, but what is more i must hand o'er twelve lines by night, or stay and write. just eight i've got but you know that's not enough lacking four, but to have twelve it wants no more." "i have never been able to make out what the third line meant," said mr. burroughs. a few years later, when jay gould was hard up (he had left school and was making a map of delaware county), john burroughs helped him out by buying two old books of him, paying him eighty cents. the books were a german grammar and gray's "elements of geology." the embryo financier was glad to get the cash, and the embryo writer unquestionably felt the richer in possessing the books. mr. burroughs loves to look off toward montgomery hollow and talk of the old haunt. "i've taken many a fine string of trout from that stream," he would say. one day he and his brother curtis and i drove over there and fished the stream, and he could hardly stay in the wagon the last half-mile. "isn't it time to get out now, curtis?" he fidgeted every little while. "not yet, john,--not yet," said the more phlegmatic brother. but it was august, and although the rapid mountain brook seemed just the place for trout, the trout were not in their places. i shall long remember the enticing stream, the pretty cascades, the high shelving rocks sheltering the mossy nest of the phoebe, and the glowing masses of bee-balm blooming beside the stream; yes, and the eagerness of one of the fishermen as he slipped along ahead of me, dropping his hook into the pools. occasionally he would relinquish the rod, putting it into my hands with a rare self-denial as we came to a promising pool; but i was more deft at gathering bee-balm than taking trout, and willingly spared the rod to the eager angler. and even he secured only two troutling to carry back in his mint-lined creel. "trout streams gurgled about the roots of my family tree," he was wont to say as he told of his grandfather kelly's ardor for the pastime. one day, in crossing the fields near the old home, he showed me the stone wall where he and his grandfather tarried the last time they went fishing together, he a boy of ten and his grandfather past eighty. as they rested on the wall, the old man, without noticing it, sat on the lad's hand as it lay on the wall. "it hurt," mr. burroughs said, "but i didn't move till he got ready to get up." it was a great pleasure to go through the old sap bush with mr. burroughs, for there he always lives over again the days in early spring when sugar-making was in progress. he showed where some of the old trees once stood,--the grandmother trees,--and mourned that they were no more; but some of the mighty maples of his boyhood are still standing, and each recalls youthful experiences. he sometimes goes back there now in early spring to re-create the idyllic days. their ways of boiling sap are different now, and he finds less poetry in the process. but the look of the old trees, the laugh of the robins, and the soft nasal calls of the nuthatch, he says, are the same as in the old times. "how these sounds ignore the years!" he exclaimed as a nuthatch piped in the near-by trees. sometimes he would bring over to woodchuck lodge from the homestead a cake of maple sugar from the veteran trees, and some of the maple-sugar cookies such as his mother used to make; though he eats sparingly of sweets nowadays. yet, when he and a small boy would clear the table and take the food down cellar, it was no uncommon thing to see them emerge from the stairway, each munching one of those fat cookies, their eyes twinkling at the thought that they had found the forbidden sweets we had hidden so carefully. he and this lad of eleven were great chums; they chased wild bees together, putting honey on the stone wall, getting a line on the bees; shelled beechnuts and cracked butternuts for the chipmunks; caught skunks in a trap, just to demonstrate that a skunk can be carried by the tail with impunity, if you only do it right (and, though succeeding one day, got the worst of the bargain the next); and waged war early and late on the flabby woodchucks which one could see almost any hour in the day undulating across the fields. we called these boys "john of woods," and "john of woodchucks"; and it was sometimes difficult to say which was the veriest boy, the one of eleven or the one of seventy-four. one morning i heard them laughing gleefully together as they were doing up the breakfast work. calling out to learn the cause of their merriment, i found the elder john had forgotten to eat his egg--he had just found it in his coat-pocket, having put it in there to carry from the kitchen to the living-room. he often amused us by his recital of thackeray's absurd "little billee," and by the application of some of the lines to events in the life at woodchuck lodge. (illustration of living-room, woodchuck lodge, with rustic furniture made by mr. burroughs. from a photograph by m. h. fanning) as the evenings grew longer and cooler, we would gather about the table and mr. burroughs would read aloud, sometimes from bergson's "creative evolution," under the spell of which he was the entire summer of , sometimes from wordsworth, sometimes from whitman. "no other english poet has touched me quite so closely," he said, "as wordsworth.... but his poetry has more the character of a message, and a message special and personal, to a comparatively small circle of readers." as he read "the poet's epitaph" one evening, i was impressed with the strong likeness the portrait there drawn has to mr. burroughs:-- "the outward shows of sky and earth, of hill and valley, he has viewed; and impulses of deeper birth have come to him in solitude. in common things that round us lie some random truths he can impart,-- the harvest of a quiet eye that broods and sleeps on his own heart." what are the books, and notably the later philosophical essays, of mr. burroughs but the "harvest of a quiet eye"? his "summit of the years," his "gospel of nature" (which one of his friends calls "the gospel according to saint john"), his "noon of science," his "long road"? and most of this rich harvest he has gathered in his journeys back to pepacton, inspired by the scenes amid which he first felt the desire to write. seeing him daily in these scenes, one feels that it may, indeed, be said of him as matthew arnold said of sophocles, that he sees life steadily, and sees it whole. what a masterly handling is his of the facts of the universe, giving his reader the truths of the scientist touched with an idealism such as is only known to the poet's soul! a friend, writing me of "the summit of the years," spoke of "its splendid ascent by a rapid crescendo from the personal to the cosmic," and of how gratifying it is to see our author putting forth such fine work in his advancing years. another friend called it "a beautiful record of a beautiful life." i recall the september morning on which he began that essay. he had written the first sentence--"the longer i live, the more i am impressed with the beauty and the wonder of the world"--when he was interrupted for a time. he spoke of what he had written, and said he hardly knew what he was going to make of it. later in the day he brought me a large part of the essay to copy, and i remember how moved i was at its beauty, how grateful that i had been present at its inception and birth. one afternoon he called us from our separate work, the artist from her canvas and me from my typewriter, to look at a wonderful rainbow spanning the wide valley below us. the next day he brought me a short manuscript saying, "if that seems worth while to you, you may copy it--i don't know whether there is anything in it or not." it was "the rainbow," which appeared some months later in a popular magazine--a little gem, and a good illustration of his ability to throw the witchery of the ideal around the facts of nature. the lad with us had been learning wordsworth's "rainbow," a favorite of mr. burroughs, and it was no unusual thing of a morning to hear the rustic philosopher while frying the bacon for breakfast, singing contentedly in a sort of tune of his own making:-- "and i could wish my days to be bound each to each by natural piety." one afternoon a neighbor came and took him in her automobile a ride of fifty miles or more, the objective point of which was ashland, the place where he had attended a seminary in and . on his return he said it seemed like wizard's work that he could be whisked there and back in one afternoon, to that place which had been the goal of his youthful dreams! they had also called on a schoolmate whom he had not seen for forty years. he told us how a possession of that boy's had been a thing he had coveted for many months--a slate pencil with a shining copper gun-cap! "how i longed for that pencil! i tried to trade for buttons (all i had to offer in exchange), but it was too precious for my small barter, and i coveted it in vain." the wistful celt began early to sigh for the unattainable. we picked wild strawberries in june from the "clover lot" where the boy john burroughs and his mother used to pick them. "i can see her now," he said reminiscently, "her bent figure moving slowly in the summer fields toward home with her basket filled. she would also go berrying on old clump, in early haying, long after the berries were gone in the lowlands." during this summer of which i speak, the fields were a gorgeous mass of color--buttercups and daisies, and the orange hawkweed--a display that rivaled the carpet of gold and purple we had seen in the san joaquin valley, in company with john muir three summers before. mr. muir was done before starting for south america. he had promised to come to the catskills, but had to keep putting it off to get copy ready, and the laird of woodchuck lodge was exasperated that the mountaineer would stay in that hot babylon,--he, the lover of the wild,--when we in the delectable mountains were calling him hither. as we looked upon the riot of color one day, mr. burroughs said, "john muir, confound him! i wish he was here to see this at its height!" returning to the little gray farmhouse in the gathering dusk one late september day, mr. burroughs paused and turned, looking back at the old home, and up at the cattle silhouetted against the horizon. he gazed upon the landscape long and long. how fondly his eye dwells upon these scenes! so i have seen him look when about to part from a friend--as if he were trying to fix the features and expression in his mind forever. "the older one grows, the more the later years erode away, as do the secondary rocks, and one gets down to bed-rock,--youth,--and there he wants to rest. these scenes make youth and all the early life real to me, the rest is more like a dream. how incredible it is!--all that is gone; but here it lives again." (illustration of on the porch at woodchuck lodge. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) and yet, though he is face to face with the past at his old home, his days there are not so sad as some of his reminiscent talk would seem to indicate. in truth, he is serenely content, so much so that he sometimes almost chides himself for living so much in the present. "oh, the power of a living reality to veil or blot out the past!" he sighed. "and yet, is it not best so? does not the grass grow above graves? why should these lovely scenes always be a cemetery to me? there seems to have been a spell put upon them that has laid the ghosts, and i am glad." and to see him bird-nesting with his grandchildren, hunting in the woods for crooked sticks for his rustic furniture, waking the echo in the "new barn" (a barn that was new in ), routing out a woodchuck from a stone wall, blackberrying on the steep hillsides, or going a half-mile across the fields just to smell the fragrance of the buckwheat bloom, is to know that, wistful celt that he is, and dominated by the spell of the past, he is yet very much alive to the present, out of which he is probably getting as full a measure of content as any man living to-day. he looked about him at the close of his first stay at woodchuck lodge after the completion of the repairs which had made the house so homelike and comfortable, and said contentedly: "a beautiful dream come true! and to think i've stayed down there on the hudson all these years with never the home feeling, when here were my native hills waiting to cradle me as they did in my youth, and i so slow to return to them! i've been homesick for over forty years: i was an alien there; i couldn't take root there. it was a lucky day when i decided to spend the rest of my summers here" camping with burroughs and muir in february, , i was one of a small party which set out with mr. burroughs for the pacific coast and the hawaiian islands. the lure held out to him by the friend who arranged his trip was that john muir would start from his home at martinez, california, and await him at the petrified forests in arizona; conduct him through, that weirdly picturesque region, and in and around the grand canon of the colorado; camp and tramp with him in the mojave desert; tarry awhile in southern california; then visit yosemite before embarking on the pacific preparatory to lotus-eating in hawaii. the lure held out to the more obscure members of the party was all that has been enumerated, plus that of having these two great, simple men for traveling companions. to see the wonders of the southwest is in itself great good fortune, but to see them in company with these two students of nature, and to study the students while the students were studying the wonders, was an incalculable privilege. it frightens me now when i think on what a slight chance hung our opportunity for this unique journey; for mr. burroughs, though at first deciding to go, had later given it up, declaring himself to be too much of a tenderfoot to go so far from home alone at his age. "why should i go gadding about to see the strange and the extraordinary?" he wrote me, when trying to argue himself into abandoning the trip. "the whole gospel of my books (if they have any gospel) is 'stay at home; see the wonderful and the beautiful in the simple things all about you; make the most of the common and the near at hand.' when i have gone abroad, i have carried this spirit with me, and have tested what i have seen by the nature revealed to me at my own doorstep. well, i am glad i have triumphed at last; i feel much better and like writing again, now that this incubus is off my shoulders." but the incubus soon rested on him again, for the next mail carried a letter begging him to reconsider and let two of his women friends accompany him. so it all came about in a few days, and we were off. we wondered how mr. muir would relish two women being in the party, but assured mr. burroughs we should not hamper them, and should be ready to do whatever they were. "have no fears on that score," he said; "muir will be friendly if you are good listeners; and he is well worth listening to. he is very entertaining, but he sometimes talks when i want to be let alone; at least he did up in alaska." "but you won't be crusty to him, will you?" "oh, no, i shan't dare to be--he is too likely to get the best of one; he is a born tease." the long journey across the western states (by the santa fe route) was full of interest at every point. even the monotony of the middle west was not wearisome, while the scenery and scenes in new mexico and arizona were fascinating in the extreme. mr. burroughs had been to the far west by a northern route, but this was all fresh territory to him, and he brought to it his usual keen appetite for new phases of nature, made still keener by a recently awakened interest in geological subjects. it enhanced the pleasure and profit of the trip a hundredfold to get his first impressions of the moving panorama, as i did when he dictated notes to me from his diary, or descriptive letters to his wife and son. the impression one gets out there of earth sculpture in process is one of the chief attractions of the region, and mr. burroughs never tired of studying the physiognomy of the land, and the overwhelming evidences of time and change, and of contrasting these with our still older, maturer landscapes in the east. in passing through kansas he commented on the monotonous level expanse of country as being unbearable from any point of view except as good farm land. used to hills and mountains, inviting brooks and winding roads, he turned away from this unpicturesque land, saying if it was a good place to make money, it was also a place to lose one's own soul--he was already homesick for the beauty and diversity of our more winsome country. two days' journey from chicago and we reached the desert town of adamana. as the train stopped near the little inn, a voice called out in the darkness, "hello, johnnie, is that you?" "yes, john muir"; and there under the big dipper, on the great arizona desert, the two friends met after a lapse of ten years. "muir, aren't you surprised to find me with two women in my wake?" asked mr. burroughs, introducing us. "yes; surprised that there are only two, johnnie." then to us, "up in alaska there were a dozen or two following him around, tucking him up in steamer rugs, putting pillows to his head, running to him with a flower, or a description of a bird--oh, two is a very moderate number, johnnie, but we'll manage to worry through with them, somehow." and picking up part of our luggage, the tall, grizzly scot led the way to the inn. the next day we drove nine miles over the rolling desert to visit one of the petrified forests, of which there are five in that vicinity. blended with the unwonted scenes--the gray sands dotted with sagebrush and greasewood, the leaping jack rabbits, the frightened bands of half-wild horses, the distant buttes and mesas, and the brilliant blue of the arizona sky--is the memory of that talk of mr. muir's during the long drive, a talk which for range and raciness i have never heard equaled. he often uses the broad dialect of the scot, translating as he goes along. his forte is in monologue. he is a most engaging talker,--discursive, grave and gay,--mingling thrilling adventures, side-splitting anecdotes, choice quotations, apt characterizations, scientific data, enthusiastic descriptions, sarcastic comments, scornful denunciations, inimitable mimicry. mr. burroughs, on the contrary, is not a ready talker; he gives of his best in his books. he establishes intimate relations with his reader, mr. muir with his listener. he is more fond of an interchange of ideas than is mr. muir; is not the least inclined to banter or to get the better of one; is so averse to witnessing discomfiture that even when forced into an argument, he is loath to push it to the bitter end. yet when he does engage in argument, he drives things home with very telling force, especially when writing on debatable points. as we drove along the desert, mr. muir pointed to a lofty plateau toward which we were tending,--"robbers' roost,"--where sheep-stealers hie themselves, commanding the view for hundreds of miles in every direction. i wish i could make vivid the panorama we saw from this vantage-ground--the desert in the foreground, and far away against the sky the curiously carved pink and purple and lilac mountains, while immediately below us lay the dry river-bed over which a gaunt raven flew and croaked ominously, and a little beyond rose the various buttes, mauve and terra-cotta colored, from whose sides and at whose bases projected the petrified trees. there lay the giant trees, straight and tapering--no branching as in our trees of to-day. the trunks are often flattened, as though they had been under great pressure, often the very bark seemed to be on them (though it was petrified bark), and on some we saw marks of insect tracery like those made by the borers of to-day. some of the trunks were more than one hundred and fifty feet long, and five to seven feet in diameter, prostrate but intact, looking as though uprooted where they lay. others were broken at regular intervals, as though sawed into stove lengths. in places the ground looks like a chip-yard, the chips dry and white as though bleached by the sun. the eye is deceived; chips these surely are, you think, but the ear corrects this impression, for as your feet strike the fragments, the clinking sound proves that they are stone. in some of the other forests, visited later, the chips and larger fragments, and the interior of the trunks, are gorgeously colored, so that we walked on a natural mosaic of jasper, chalcedony, onyx, and agate. in many fragments the cell-structure of the wood is still visible, but in others nature has carried the process further, and crystallization has transformed the wood of these old, old trees into the brilliant fragments we can have for the carrying--"beautiful wood replaced by beautiful stone," as mr. muir was fond of saying. with what wonder and incredulity we roamed about witnessing the strange spectacle!--the prostrate monarchs with hearts of jasper and chalcedony, now silent and rigid in this desolate region where they basked in the sunlight and swayed in the winds millions of years ago. only a small part of the old forest is as yet exposed; these trees, buried for ages beneath the early seas, becoming petrified as they lay, are, after ages more, gradually being unearthed as the softer parts of the soil covering them wears away. the scenic aspects of the place, the powerful appeal it made to the imagination, the evidences of infinite time, the wonderful metamorphosis from vegetable life to these petrified remains which copy so faithfully the form and structure of the living trees, were powerfully enhanced by the sight of these two men wandering amid these ruins of carboniferous time, sometimes in earnest conversation, oftener in silence; again in serious question from the one and perhaps bantering answer from the other; for although mr. burroughs was intensely interested in this spectacle, and full of cogitations and questions as to the cause and explanation of it all, mr. muir was not disposed to treat questions seriously. "oh, get a primer of geology, johnnie," he would say when the earnest eastern student would ask for a solution of some of the puzzles arising in his mind--a perversity that was especially annoying, since the scot had carefully explored these regions, and was doubtless well equipped to adduce reasonable explanations had he been so minded. that very forest to which we went on that first day, and where we ate our luncheon from the trunk of a great petrified sigillaria, had been discovered by mr. muir and his daughter a few years before as they were riding over the sandy plateau. he told us how excited he was that night--he could not sleep, but lay awake trying to restore the living forest in imagination, for, from the petrified remains, he could tell to what order these giants belonged. when others congregate to eat, the scot seems specially impelled to talk. with a fine disregard for food, he sat and crumbled dry bread, occasionally putting a bit in his mouth, talking while the eating was going on. he is likewise independent of sleep. "sleep!" he would exclaim, when the rest of us, after a long day of sight-seeing, would have to yield to our sense of fatigue, "why, you can sleep when you get back home, or, at least, in the grave." mr. burroughs, on the contrary, is specially dependent upon sleep and food in order to do his work or to enjoy anything. on our arrival at the grand canon in the morning, after a night of travel and fasting, all the rest of us felt the need of refreshing ourselves and taking breakfast before we would even take a peep at the great rose-purple abyss out there a few steps from the hotel, but the teasing scot jeered at us for thinking of eating when there was that sublime spectacle to be seen. when we did go out to the rim, mr. muir preceded us, and, as we approached, waved toward the great abyss and said: "there! empty your heads of all vanity, and look!" and we did look, overwhelmed by what must be the most truly sublime spectacle this earth has to offer--a veritable terrestrial book of revelation, as mr. burroughs said. we followed a little path along the rim, led by mr. muir, to where we could escape from the other sight-seers, and there we sat on the rocks, though the snow lay in patches on the ground that bright february day. mr. burroughs made a fire of juniper brush, and as the fragrant incense rose on the air, with that wondrous spectacle before our eyes, we listened to mr. muir reciting some lines from milton--almost the only poet one would think of quoting in the presence of such solemn, awful beauty. mr. muir tried to dissuade us the next day from going down into the canon: "don't straddle a mule and poke your noses down to the ground, and plunge down that dangerous icy trail, imagining, because you get a few shivers down your backs, you are seeing the glories of the canon, or getting any conception of the noble river that made it. you must climb, climb, to see the glories, always." but when mr. burroughs would ask him where we could climb to, to see the canon, since under his guidance we had been brought to the very edge on the top, he did not deign to explain, but continued to deride the project of the descent into the depths--a way the dear man has of meeting an argument that is a bit annoying at times. we did go down into the canon on mule-back,--down, down, over four thousand feet,--and the jeering scot went with us, sitting his mule uncompromisingly, and indulging in many a jest at the expense of the terrified women who felt, when too late to retreat, that it would have been better to heed his advice. still, after the descent, and then the ascent, were safely accomplished, we were glad we had not let him dissuade us. none of us can ever forget that day, with its rich and varied experiences, the mingled fear and awe and exultation, the overpowering emotions felt at each new revelation of the stupendous spectacle, often relieved by the lively sallies of mr. muir. we ate our luncheon on the old cambrian plateau, the mighty colorado, still a thousand feet below us, looking entirely inadequate to have accomplished the tremendous results we were witnessing. one day at the canon, feeling acutely aware of our incalculable privilege, i said, "to think of having the grand canon, and john burroughs and john muir thrown in!" "i wish muir _was_ thrown in, sometimes," retorted mr. burroughs, with a twinkle in his eye, "when he gets between me and the canon." in contrast to mr. muir, the wanderer, is mr. burroughs, the home-lover, one who is under the spell of the near and the familiar. the scenes of his boyhood in the catskills, the woods he wandered in about washington during the years he dwelt there, his later tramping-ground along the hudson--these are the scenes he has made his readers love because he has loved them so much himself; and however we may enjoy his journeyings in "mellow england," in "green alaska," in jamaica, or his philosophical or speculative essays, we find his stay-at-home things the best. and he likes the familiar scenes and things the best, much as he enjoyed the wonders that the great west offered. the robins in yosemite valley and the skylarks in the hawaiian islands, because these were a part of his earlier associations, did more to endear these places to him than did the wonders themselves. on hawaii, where we saw the world's greatest active volcano throwing up its fountains of molten lava sixty or more feet high, the masses falling with a roar like that of the "husky-voiced sea," mr. burroughs found it difficult to understand why some of us were so fascinated that we wanted to stay all night, willing to endure the discomforts of a resting-place on lava rocks, occasional stifling gusts of sulphur fumes, dripping rain, and heat that scorched our veiled faces, so long as we could gaze on that boiling, tumbling, heaving, ever-changing lake of fire. such wild, terrible, unfamiliar beauty could not long hold him under its spell. (illustration of john muir and john burroughs, pasadena, california. from a photograph by george r. king) a veritable homesickness came over him amid unfamiliar scenes. one day in early march, after journeying all day over the strange region of the california desert, with its giant cacti, its lava-beds, its volcanic cones, its rugged, barren mountains, its deep gorges and canons, its snow-capped peaks, on reaching san bernardino, so green and fresh and smiling in the late afternoon sun, and riding through miles and miles of orange groves to riverside, this return to a winsome nature (though unlike his own), after so much of the forbidding aspect had been before us, was to mr. burroughs like water brooks to the thirsty hart. his abiding love for early friends, too, crops out on all occasions. twice while away on this trip be received the proffer of honorary degrees from two of our american universities. loath to accept such honors at any time, he was especially so now, and declined, defending himself by saying that the acceptance would have necessitated his hurrying straight home across the states to have the degrees conferred upon him, when he was planning to tarry in iowa and see an old schoolmate. "i didn't want to do it," he said petulantly; "i wanted to stop and see sandy smith"--his tone being not unlike what he would have used when as a boy he doubtless coaxed to "go out and play with sandy." mr. burroughs is too much a follower of the genuinely simple life to be long contented in hotels, however genial the hospitality. he declared the elegant suite at the mission inn at riverside, which was tendered to him and his party in the most cordial, unobtrusive way, was too luxurious for a "slabsider" like him. it was positively painful to him to be asked, as he was frequently on the western and hawaiian tour, to address audiences, or "just to come and meet the students" at various schools and colleges. such meetings usually meant being "roped in" to making a speech, often in spite of assurances to the contrary. i have known him to slip away from a men's club early in the evening, before dinner was announced, and return to our little cottage in pasadena, where he would munch contentedly an uncooked wafer, drink a cup of hot water, read a little geology, and go to bed at the seasonable hour of nine, the next morning awakening with a keen appetite for the new day, for his breakfast, and for his forenoon of work, whereas, had he stayed out till eleven or twelve, eaten a hearty dinner, and been stimulated and excited by much talk, he would have awakened without the joy in the morning which he has managed to carry through his seventy-six years, and which his readers, who rejoice in the freshness and tranquillity of his pages, hope he will keep till he reaches the end of the long road. mr. muir is as averse to speaking in public as is mr. burroughs, much as he likes to talk. they both dislike the noise and confusion of cities, and what we ordinarily mean by social life. mr. burroughs is less an alien in cities than is mr. muir, yet, on the whole, he is more of a solitaire, more of a recluse. he avoids men where the other seeks them. he cannot deal or dicker with men, but the canny scot can do this, if need be, and even enjoy it. circumstances seem to have made mr. muir spend most of his years apart from his fellows, although by nature he is decidedly gregarious; circumstances seem to have decreed that mr. burroughs spend the greater part of his life among his fellow-men, though there is much of the hermit in his make-up. mr. muir gets lost in cities--this man who can find his way on the trackless desert, the untrodden glaciers, and in the most remote and inaccessible mountain heights. he will never admit that his wanderings were lonely: "you can always have the best part of your friends with you," he said; "it is only when people cease to love that they are separated." one sunday in pasadena we had planned to have a picnic up one of the canons, but the rain decreed otherwise. so, discarding tables and other appurtenances of life within doors, we picnicked on the floor of our sitting-room, making merry there with the luncheon we had prepared for the jaunt. while passing back and forth through the room in our preparations, we heard the men of the party talk in fragments, and amusing fragments they were. once when mr. browne, the editor of the "dial," was discussing some point in connection with the spanish-american war, i heard mr. muir say, with a sigh of relief, "i was getting flowers up on the tuolumne meadows then, and didn't have to bother about those questions." when another friend was criticizing mr. roosevelt for the reputed slaughter of so many animals in africa, and mr. burroughs declared he did not credit half the things the papers said the hunter was doing, mr. muir said, half chidingly, half tolerantly, "roosevelt, the muggins, i am afraid he is having a good time putting bullets through those friends of his." now i had heard him call mr. burroughs "you muggins" in the same winning, endearing way he said "johnnie"; i had heard him speak of a petrified tree in the sigillaria forest as a "muggins"; of a bear that trespassed on his flowery domains in the sierra meadows as a "muggins" that he tried to look out of countenance and failed; of a "comical little muggins of a daisy" that some one had named after him; and one day he had rejoiced my heart by dubbing me "you muggins, you"; and behold! here he was now applying the elastic term to our many-sided (i did not say "strenuous") ex-president! later i heard him apply it to a yosemite waterfall, and by then should not have been surprised to hear him speak of a mighty glacier, or a giant sequoia, as a "muggins." "stickeen," mr. muir's incomparable dog story, came out in book form while we were in pasadena. i sent a copy to my brother, who wrote later asking me to inquire of mr. muir why he did not keep stickeen after their perilous adventures together. so i put the question to him one day. "keep him!" he ejaculated, as he straightened his back, and the derisive wrinkles appeared on one side of his nose; "keep him! he wasn't mine--i'm scotch, i never steal." then he explained that stickeen's real master was attached to him; that he could not take him from him; and besides, the dog was accustomed to a cold climate, and would have been very unhappy in california. "oh, no, i couldn't keep stickeen," he said wistfully, but one felt that he _had_ kept stickeen, the best part of him, by immortalizing him in that story. while we were housekeeping in pasadena, mr. burroughs began writing on the grand canon. one morning, after having disposed of several untimely callers, he had finally settled down to work. we sat around the big table writing or reading. mr. burroughs was there in the body, but in spirit we could see he was at the "divine abyss," as he called the canon. once he read us a few sentences which were so good that i resolved we must try harder to prevent interruptions, that he might keep all his writing up to that standard. but while engaged in letter-writing, some point arose, and, forgetting my laudable resolution, i put a question to him. answering me abstractedly, he went on with his writing. then i realized how inexcusable it was to intrude my trivialities at such a time. castigating myself and resolving anew, i wrote on in contrite silence. after a little mr. burroughs paused and lifted his head; his expression was puzzled, as though wrestling with some profound thought, or weighing some nicety of expression; i saw he was about to speak--perhaps to utter his latest impression concerning the glories of the canon. as he opened his lips this is what we heard: "_couldn't we warm up those saratoga chips for luncheon?_" whereupon it will be seen that the abyss he was then cogitating about was in the epigastric region, instead of in arizona. mr. muir likes a laugh at his own expense. he told us of a school-teacher in the vicinity of his home instructing her pupils about alaska and the glaciers; and on telling them that the great muir glacier was named after their neighbor, who discovered it, one little boy piped up with, "what, not that old man that drives around in a buggy!" i may as well offset this with one of our hawaiian experiences. when we were in honolulu, we heard that one of the teachers there, thinking to make a special impression upon her pupils, told them the main facts about mr. burroughs's writings, their scope and influence, what he stood for as a nature writer, his place in literature, and then described his appearance, and said, "and this noted man, this great nature lover, is right here--a guest in our city!" a little lad broke in with, "i know--i saw him yesterday--he was in our yard stealing mangoes." one day, while still in pasadena, i told mr. muir that on april d a few of us wished to celebrate mr. burroughs's birthday, his seventy-second, by a picnic up one of the mount lowe canons. he said it would be impossible for him to be with us on that day, as he had to go up to san francisco. on my expressing keen disappointment he teasingly said:--"why, you will have johnnie, and mr. browne, and the mountains--what more do you want?" "but we want _you_," i protested, assuring him that this was not a case where one could say,-- "how happy could i be with either, were t'other dear johnnie away!" "well, then, why can't you have it some other day?" "because he wasn't born some other day." "but why must you be tied to the calendar? can't you celebrate johnnie's birthday a few days later just as well? such a stickler for the exact date as you are, i never saw." thus he bantered, but when he had to leave us, we knew he was as disappointed as we all were that he could not be with us on that "exact date." how he did enjoy hectoring us for our absurd mistake in not reading our long tickets through, consequently getting on the santa fe train to go up to san francisco when a little coupon stated that the ticket took us by the coast line. we were bound to let the scot know of our mistake, and our necessary transfer to the other road (as we had arranged to meet him at a certain point on the santa fe), else, i suppose, we never should have given him that chance to jeer at us. he made us tell him all about it when we met, and shaking with laughter at all the complications the mistake entailed, he declared, "oh, but that's a bully story!" "it'll put an inch of fat on muir's ribs," retorted "oom john," who was not without chagrin at the fiasco. "johnnie, when you sail for honolulu, i expect, unless you're narrowly watched, you'll get on the wrong ship and go off to vancouver," teased the fun-loving scot. in yosemite, mr. muir told us about the great trees he used to saw into timber during his early years in the valley, showing us the site of his old mill, and bragging that he built it and kept it in repair at a cost of less than twenty-five cents a year. it seemed strange that he, a tree-lover, could have cut down those noble spruces and firs, and i whispered this to mr. burroughs. "ask him about it," said the latter, "ask him." so i did. "bless you, i never cut down the trees--i only sawed those the lord had felled." the storms that swept down the mountains had laid these monarchs low, and the thrifty scot had merely taken advantage of the ill winds, at the same time helping nature to get rid of the debris. "how does this compare with esopus valley, johnnie?" mr. muir was fond of asking mr. burroughs, when he saw the latter gazing in admiration at mighty el capitan, or the thundering yosemite falls. or he would say, "how is that for a piece of glacial work, johnnie?" as he pointed to half dome and told how the glacier had worn off at least half a mile from its top, and then had sawed right down through the valley. "o lord! that's too much, muir," answered mr. burroughs. he declared that it stuck in his crop--this theory that ice alone accounts for this great valley cut out of the solid rocks. when the scot would get to riding his ice-hobby too hard, mr. burroughs would query, "but, muir, the million years before the ice age--what was going on here then?' "oh, god knows," said mr. muir, but vouchsafed no further explanation. (illustration of john burroughs and john muir in the yosemite. from a photograph by f. p. clatworthy) "with my itch for geology," said mr. burroughs, "i want it scratched all the time, and muir doesn't want to scratch it." so he dropped his questions, which elicited only bantering answers from the mountaineer, and gave himself up to sheer admiration of the glories and beauties of the region, declaring that of all the elemental scenes he had beheld, yosemite beat them all--"the perpetual thunder peal of the waters dashing like mad over gigantic cliffs, the elemental granite rocks--it is a veritable 'wreck of matter and crush of worlds' that we see here." mr. burroughs urged mr. muir again and again to reclaim his early studies in the sierra which were printed in the "overland monthly" years ago, and give them to the public now with the digested information which he alone can supply, and which is as yet inaccessible in his voluminous notes and sketches of the region. at mr. muir's home we saw literally barrels of these notes. he admitted that he had always been dilatory about writing, but not about studying or note-taking; often making notes at night when fatigued from climbing and from two and three days' fasting; but the putting of them into literature is irksome to him. yet, much as he dislikes the labor of writing, he will shut himself away from the air and sunshine for weeks at a time, if need arises, and write vigorously in behalf of the preservation of our forests. he did this back in the late seventies, and in more recent years has been tireless in his efforts to secure protection to our noble forests when danger has threatened them. mr. muir's knowledge of the physiognomy and botany of most of the countries of the globe is extensive, and he has recently added south america and south africa to his list; there is probably no man living, and but few who have lived, so thoroughly conversant with the effects of glaciation as is he; yet, unless he puts his observations into writing, much of his intimate knowledge of these things must be lost when he passes on. and, as mr. burroughs says, "the world wants this knowledge seasoned with john muir, not his mere facts. he could accumulate enough notes to fill yosemite, yet that would be worth little. he has spent years studying and sketching the rocks, and noting facts about them, but you can't reconstruct beauty and sublimity out of mere notes and sketches. he must work his harvest into bread." but concerning this writing mr. muir confesses he feels the hopelessness of giving his readers anything but crumbs from the great table god has spread: "i can write only hints to incite good wanderers to come to the feast." here we see the marked contrast between these two nature students: mr. muir talks because he can't help it, and his talk is good literature; he writes only because he has to, on occasion; while mr. burroughs writes because he can't help it, and talks when he can't get out of it. mr. muir, the wanderer, needs a continent to roam in; while mr. burroughs, the saunterer, needs only a neighborhood or a farm. the wanderer is content to scale mountains; the saunterer really climbs the mountain after he gets home, as he makes it truly his own only by dreaming over it and writing about it. the wanderer finds writing irksome; the saunterer is never so well or so happy as when he can write; his food nourishes him better, the atmosphere is sweeter, the days are brighter. the wanderer has gathered his harvest from wide fields, just for the gathering; he has not threshed it out and put it into the bread of literature--only a few loaves; the saunterer has gathered his harvest from a rather circumscribed field, but has threshed it out to the last sheaf; has made many loaves; and it is because he himself so enjoys writing that his readers find such joy and morning freshness in his books, his own joy being communicated to his reader, as mr. muir's own enthusiasm is communicated to his hearer. with mr. burroughs, if his field of observation is closely gleaned, he turns aside into subjective fields and philosophizes--a thing which mr. muir never does. one of the striking things about mr. muir is his generosity; and though so poor in his youth and early adult life, he has now the wherewithal to be generous. his years of frugality have, strange to say, made him feel a certain contempt for money. at el tovar he asked, "what boy brought up my bags?" whereupon a string of bell-boys promptly appeared for their fees, and mr. muir handed out tips to all the waiting lads, saying in a droll way, "i didn't know i had so many bags." when we tried to reimburse him for the yosemite trip, he would have none of it, saying, almost peevishly, "now don't annoy me about that." yet, if he thinks one is trying to get the best of him, he can look after the shekels as well as any one. one day in yosemite when we were to go for an all day's tramp and wished a luncheon prepared at the hotel, on learning of the price they were to charge, he turned his back on the landlord and dispatched one of us to the little store, where, for little more than the hotel would have charged for one person, a luncheon for five was procured, and then he really chuckled that he had been able to snap his fingers at mine host, who had thought he had us at his mercy. i see i have kept mr. muir close to the footlights most of the time, allowing mr. burroughs to hover in the background where he blends with the neutral tones; but so it was in all the thrilling scenes in the western drama--mr. muir and the desert, mr. muir and the petrified trees, mr. muir and the canon, mr. muir and yosemite; while with "oom john," it was a blending with the scene, a quiet, brooding absorption that made him seem a part of them--the desert, the petrified trees, the grand canon, yosemite, and mr. burroughs inseparably linked with them, but seldom standing out in sharp contrast to them, as the "beloved egotist" stood out on all occasions. perhaps the most idyllic of all our days of camping and tramping with john of birds and john of mountains was the day in yosemite when we tramped to nevada and vernal falls, a distance of fourteen miles, returning to camp ahwahnee at night, weary almost to exhaustion, but strangely uplifted by the beauty and sublimity n which we had lived and moved and had our being. our brown tents stood hospitably open, and out in the great open space in front we sat around the campfire under the noble spruces and firs, the merced flowing softly on our right, mighty yosemite falls thundering away in the distance, while the moon rose over sentinel rock, lending a touch of ineffable beauty to the scene, and a voice, that is now forever silenced, lent to the rhymes of the poets its richness of varied emotion, as it chanted choicest selections from the golden poems of all time. we lingered long after the other campers had gone to rest, loath to bring to its close a day so replete with sublimity and beauty. mr. burroughs summed it up as he said good-night: "a day with the gods of eld--a holy day in the temple of the gods." john burroughs: an appreciation "john is making an impression on his age--has come to stay--has veritable, indisputable, dynamic gifts," walt whitman said familiarly to a friend in , in commenting on our subject's place in literature. and of a letter written to him by mr. burroughs that same year he said: "it is a june letter, worthy of june; written in john's best outdoor mood. why, it gets into your blood, and makes you feel worth while. i sit here, helpless as i am, and breathe it in like fresh air." minot savage once asked in a sermon if it did not occur to his hearers that john burroughs gets a little more of june than the rest of us do, and added that mr. burroughs had paid years of consecration of thought and patient study of the lives of birds and flowers, and so had bought the right to take june and all that it means into his brain and heart and life; and that if the rest of us wish these joys, we must purchase them on the same terms. we are often led to ask what month he has not taken into his heart and life, and given out again in his writings. perhaps most of all he has taken april into his heart, as his essay on it in "birds and poets" will show:-- how it (april) touches one and makes him both glad and sad! the voices of the arriving birds, the migrating fowls, the clouds of pigeons sweeping across the sky or filling the woods, the elfin horn of the first honey-bee venturing abroad in the middle of the day, the clear piping of the little frogs in the marshes at sundown, the camp-fire in the sugar-bush, the smoke seen afar rising over the trees, the tinge of green that comes so suddenly on the sunny knolls and slopes, the full translucent streams, the waxing and warming sun,--how these things and others like them are noted by the eager eye and ear! april is my natal month, and i am born again into new delight and new surprises at each return of it. its name has an indescribable charm to me. its two syllables are like the calls of the first birds,--like that of the phoebe-bird, or of the meadowlark. but why continue? the whole essay breathes of swelling buds, springing grass, calls of birds, april flowers, april odors, and april's uncloying freshness and charm. as we realize what the returning spring brings to this writer, we say with bliss carman:-- "make (him) over. mother april, when the sap begins to stir." i fancy there are many of his readers who will echo what one of his friends has said to him: "for me the d of april will ever stand apart in the calendar with a poignant beauty and sweetness because it is your birthday. it is the keynote to which the whole springtime music is set." or another: "if april d comes in like any other day, please understand that it will be because she does not dare to show how glad she is over her own doings." on another birthday, the same correspondent says: "i find that you are so inwoven with the spring-time that i shall never again be able to resolve the season into its elements. but i am the richer for it. i feel a sort of compassion for one who has never seen the spring through your eyes." mr. burroughs puts his reader into close and sympathetic communion with the open-air world as no other literary naturalist has done. gilbert white reported with painstaking fidelity the natural history of selborne; thoreau gave thoreau with glimpses of nature thrown in; richard jefferies, in dreamy, introspective descriptions of rare beauty and delicacy, portrayed his own mystical impressions of nature; but mr. burroughs takes us with him to the homes and haunts of the wild creatures, sets us down in their midst, and lets us see and hear and feel just what is going on. we read his books and echo whitman's verdict on them: "they take me outdoors! god bless outdoors!" and since god _has_ blessed outdoors, we say, "god bless john burroughs for taking us out of doors with him!" our writer never prates about nature, telling us to look and admire. he loves the common, everyday life about him, sees it more intimately than you or i see it, and tells about it so simply and clearly that he begets a like feeling in his reader. it was enjoined of the early puritans "to walke honestlie in the sweete fields and woodes." how well our friend has obeyed this injunction! and what an unobtrusive lover he is! although it is through him that his mistress stands revealed, it is not until we look closely that we spy her adorer in the background, intent only on unveiling her charms. how does he do this? first by succumbing himself--nature's graces, her inconsistencies, even her objectionable traits appeal to him. like the true lover, he is captivated by each of her phases, and surrenders himself without reserve. such homage makes him the recipient of her choicest treasures, her most adorable revelations. (illustration of mr. burroughs sitting for a statuette. from a photograph by charles s. olcott) i have mentioned gilbert white's contributions to the literature about nature: one must admire the man's untiring enthusiasm, but his book is mainly a storehouse of facts; how rarely does he invest the facts with charm! to pry into nature's secrets and conscientiously report them seems to be the aim of the english parson; but we get so little of the parson himself. what were his feelings about all these things he has been at such pains to record? the things themselves are not enough. it is not alluring to be told soberly:-- hedge-hogs abound in my garden and fields. the manner in which they eat the roots of the plaintain in the grass walk is very curious; with their upper mandible, which is much larger than the lower, they bore under the plant, and so eat the root off upward, leaving the tuft of leaves untouched. and so on. by way of contrast, see how mr. burroughs treats a similar subject. after describing the porcupine, mingling description and human encounter, thereby enlisting the reader's interest, he says:-- in what a peevish, injured tone the creature did complain of our unfair tactics! he protested and protested, and whimpered and scolded like some infirm old man tormented by boys. his game after we led him forth was to keep himself as much as possible in the shape of a ball, but with two sticks and the cord we finally threw him over on his back and exposed his quill-less and vulnerable under side, when he fairly surrendered and seemed to say, "now you may do with me as you like." here one gets the porcupine and mr. burroughs too. thoreau keeps his reader at arm's length, invites and repels at the same time, piques one by his spiciness, and exasperates by his opinionatedness. you want to see his bean-field, but know you would be an intruder. he might even tell you to your face that he was happiest the mornings when nobody called. he likes to advise and berate, but at long range. speaking of these two writers, whitman once said, "outdoors taught burroughs gentle things about men--it had no such effect upon thoreau." richard jefferies appeals to lovers of nature and lovers of literature as well. he has the poet's eye and is a sympathetic spectator, but seldom gives one much to carry away. his descriptions, musical as they are, barely escape being wearisome at times. in his "pageant of summer" he babbles prettily of green fields, but it is a long, long summer and one is hardly sorry to see its close. in some of his writings he affects one unpleasantly, gives an uncanny feeling; one divines the invalid as well as the mystic back of them; there is a hectic flush, perhaps a neurotic taint. beautiful, yes, but not the beauty of health and sanity. it is the same indescribable feeling i get in reading that pathetically beautiful book, "the road-mender," by "michael fairless"--the gleam of the white gate is seen all along the road, though the writer strives so bravely to keep it hidden till it must open to let him pass. one of the purest gems of jefferies--"hours of spring"--has a pathos and haunting melody of compelling poignancy. it is like a white violet or a hepatica. but with mr. burroughs we feel how preeminently sane and healthy he is. his essays have the perennial charm of the mountain brooks that flow down the hills and through the fertile valleys of his catskill home. they are redolent of the soil, of leaf mould, of the good brown earth. his art pierces through our habitual indifference to nature and kindles our interest in, not her beauty alone, but in her rugged, uncouth, and democratic qualities. like the true walker that he describes, he himself "is not merely a spectator of the panorama of nature, but is a participator in it. he experiences the country he passes through,--tastes it, feels it, absorbs it." let us try this writer by his own test. he says: "when one tries to report nature he has to remember that every object has a history which involves its surroundings, and that the depth of the interest which it awakens in us is in the proportion that its integrity in this respect is preserved." he must, as we know mr. burroughs does, bring home the river and the sky when he brings home the sparrow that he finds singing at dawn on the alder bough; must make us see and hear the bird _on the bough_, and this is worth a whole museum of stuffed and labeled specimens. to do this requires a peculiar gift, one which our essayist has to an unusual degree--an imagination that goes straight to the heart of whatever he writes about, combined with a verbal magic that re-creates what he has seen. things are felicitously seen by mr. burroughs, and then felicitously said. a dainty bit in sidney's "apologie for poetrie" seems to me aptly to characterize our author's prose: "the uttering sweetly and properly the conceits of the minde, which is the end of speech." one can pick out at random from his books innumerable poetic conceits; the closed gentian is the "nun among flowers"; a patch of fringed polygalas resembles a "flock of rose-purple butterflies" alighted on the ground; the male and female flowers of the early everlasting are "found separated from each other in well-defined groups, like men and women in an old-fashioned country church"; "the note of the pewee is a human sigh"; the bloodroot--"a full-blown flower with a young one folded in a leaf beneath it, only the bud emerging, like the head of a papoose protruding from its mother's blanket." speaking of the wild orchids known as "lady's-slippers," see the inimitable way in which he puts you on the spot where they grow: "most of the floral ladies leave their slippers in swampy places in the woods, only the stemless one (_cypripedium acaule_) leaves hers on dry ground before she reaches the swamp, commonly under evergreen trees where the carpet of pine needles will not hurt her feet." almost always he invests his descriptions with some human touch that gives them rare charm--nature and human nature blended--if it is merely the coming upon a red clover in england-- "the first red clover head just bloomed... but like the people i meet, it has a ruddier cheek than those at home." when we ask ourselves what it is that makes his essays so engaging, we conclude it is largely due to their lucidity, spontaneity, and large simplicity--qualities which make up a style original, fresh, convincing. his writing, whether about nature, literature, science, or philosophy, is always suggestive, potent, pithy; his humor is delicious; he says things in a crisp, often racy, way. yet what a sense of leisureliness one has in reading him, as well as a sense of companionability! what distinguishes him most, perhaps, is his vivid and poetic apprehension of the mere fact. he never flings dry facts at us, but facts are always his inspiration. he never seeks to go behind them, and seldom to use them as symbols, as does thoreau. thoreau preaches and teaches always; mr. burroughs, never. the facts themselves fill him with wonder and delight--a wonder and delight his reader shares. the seasons, the life of the birds and the animals, the face of nature, the ever new, the ever common day--all kindle his enthusiasm and refresh his soul. the witchery of the ideal is upon his page without doubt, but he will not pervert natural history one jot or tittle for the sake of making a pretty story. his whole aim is to invest the fact with living interest without in the least lessening its value as a fact. he does not deceive himself by what he wants to be true; the scientist in him is always holding the poet in check. of all contemporary writers in this field, he is the one upon whom we can always depend to be intellectually honest. he has an abiding hankering after the true, the genuine, the real; cannot stand, and never could stand, any tampering with the truth. had he been cromwell's portrait painter, he would have delighted in his subject's injunction: "paint me as i am, mole and all." and he would have made the mole interesting; he has done so, but that is a mole of another color. this instinct for the truth being so strong in him, he knows it when he sees it in others; he detects its absence, too; and has no patience and scant mercy for those past-masters in the art of blinking facts,--those natural-history romancers who, realizing that "the crowd must have emphatic warrant," are not content with the infinite variety of nature, but must needs spend their art in the wasteful and ridiculous excess of painting the lily, perfuming the violet, and giving to the rainbow an added hue. accordingly, when one warps the truth to suit his purpose, especially in the realm of nature, he must expect this hater of shams to raise a warning voice--"beware the wolf in sheep's clothing!" but he never cries "wolf!" when there is no wolf, and he gives warm and generous praise to deserving ones. it has surprised some of his readers, who know how kindly he is by nature, and how he shrinks from witnessing pain, in beast or man, much less inflicting it, to see his severity when nature is traduced--for he shows all the fight and fury and all the defense of the mother bird when her young are attacked. he won't suffer even a porcupine to be misrepresented without bristling up in its defense. i have said that he never preaches, never seeks to give a moral twist to his observations of nature, but i recall a few instances where he does do a bit of moralizing; for example, when he speaks of the calmness and dignity of the hawk when attacked by crows or kingbirds: "he seldom deigns to notice his noisy and furious antagonist, but deliberately wheels about in that aerial spiral, and mounts and mounts till his pursuers grow dizzy and return to earth again. it is quite original, this mode of getting rid of an unworthy opponent--rising to heights where the braggart is dazed and bewildered and loses his reckoning! i'm not sure but it is worthy of imitation." or, in writing of work on the farm, especially stone-fence making, he speaks of clearing the fields of the stones that are built into boundaries: "if there are ever sermons in stones, it is when they are built into a stone wall--turning your hindrances into helps, shielding your crops behind the obstacles to your husbandry, making the enemies of the plough stand guard over its products." but do we find such sermonizing irksome? just as "all architecture is what you do to it when you look upon it," so is all nature. lovers of nature muse and dream and invite their own souls. they interpret themselves, not nature. she reflects their thoughts and minds, gives them, after all, only what they bring to her. and the writer who brings much--much of insight, of devotion, of sympathy--is sure to bring much away for his reader's delectation. does not this account for the sense of intimacy which his reader has with the man, even before meeting him?--the feeling that if he ever does meet him, it will be as a friend, not as a stranger? and when one does meet him, and hears him speak, one almost invariably thinks: "he talks just as he writes." to read him after that is to hear the very tones of his voice. we sometimes hear the expression, "english in shirt-sleeves," applied to objectionable english; but the phrase might be applied in a commendatory way to good english,--to the english of such a writer as mr. burroughs,--simple, forceful language, with homely, everyday expressions; english that shows the man to have been country-bred, albeit he has wandered from the home pastures to distant woods and pastures new, browsing in the fields of literature and philosophy, or wherever he has found pasturage to his taste. or, to use a figure perhaps more in keeping with his main pursuits, he is one who has flocked with birds not of a like feather with those that shared with him the parent nest. although his kin knew and cared little for the world's great books, he early learned to love them when he was roaming his native fields and absorbing unconsciously that from which he later reaped his harvest. it is to writers of _this_ kind of "english in shirt-sleeves" that we return again and again. in them we see shirt-sleeves opposed to evening dress; naturalness, sturdiness, sun-tan, and open sky, opposed to the artificial, to tameness, constriction, and characterless conformity to prescribed customs. do we not turn to writers of the first class with eagerness, slaking our thirst, refreshing our minds at perennial springs? how are we glad that they lead us into green pastures and beside still waters, away from the crowded haunts of the conventional, and the respectably commonplace society garb of speech! what matter if occasionally one even gives a wholesome shock by daring to come into the drawing-room of our minds in his shirt-sleeves, his hands showing the grime of the soil, and his frame the strength that comes from battling with wind and weather? it is the same craving which makes us say with richard hovey:-- "i am sick of four walls and a ceiling; i have need of the sky, i have business with the grass." but it will not do to carry this analogy too far in writing of mr. burroughs lest it be inferred that i regard the author's work as having in it something of the uncouth, or the ill-timed, or the uncultured. his writing is of the earth, but not of the earth earthy. he sees divine things underfoot as well as overhead. his page has the fertility of a well-cultivated pastoral region, the limpidness of a mountain brook, the music of our unstudied songsters, the elusive charm of the blue beyond the summer clouds; it has, at times, the ruggedness of a shelving rock, combined with the grace of its nodding columbines. mr. burroughs has told us, in that june idyl of his, "strawberries," that he was a famous berry-picker when a boy. it was with a peculiar pleasure that i wandered with him one midsummer day over the same meadows where he used to gather strawberries. my first introduction to him as a writer, many years before, had been in hearing this essay read. and since then never a year passes that i do not read it at least three times--once in winter just to bring june and summer near; once in spring when all outdoors gives promise of the fullness yet to be; and once in the radiant summer weather when daisies and clover and bobolinks and strawberries riot in one's blood, making one fairly mad to bury one's self in the june meadows and breathe the clover-scented air. and it always stands the test--the test of being read out in the daisy-flecked meadows with rollicking bobolinks overhead. what quality is it, though, that so moves and stirs us when mr. burroughs recounts some of the simple happenings of his youth? what is it in his recitals that quickens our senses and perceptions and makes our own youth alive and real? it is paradise regained--the paradise of one's lost youth. let this author describe his boyhood pastures, going 'cross lots to school, or to his favorite spring, whatsoever it is--is it the path that he took to the little red schoolhouse in the catskills? is it the spring near his father's sugar bush that we see? no. one is a child again, and in a different part of the state, with tamer scenery, but scenery endeared by early associations. the meadow you see is the one that lies before the house where you were born; you read of the boy john burroughs jumping trout streams on his way to school, but see yourself and your playmates scrambling up a canal bank, running along the towpath, careful to keep on the land side of the towline that stretches from mules to boat, lest you be swept into the green, uninviting waters of the erie. on you run with slate and books; you smell the fresh wood as you go through the lumber yard. or, read another of his boyish excursions, and you find yourself on that first spring outing to a distant, low-lying meadow after "cowslips"; another, and you are trudging along with your brother after the cows, stopping to nibble spearmint, or pick buttercups by the way. prosaic recollections, compared to spring paths and trout brooks in the catskill valleys, yet this is what our author's writings do--re-create for each of us our own youth, with our own childhood scenes and experiences, invested with a glamour for us, however prosy they seem to others; and why? because, though nature's aspects vary, the human heart is much the same the world over, and the writer who faithfully adds to his descriptions of nature his own emotional experiences arouses answering responses in the soul of his reader. perhaps the poet in mr. burroughs is nowhere more plainly seen than in his descriptions of bird life, yet how accurately he gives their salient points; he represents the bird as an object in natural history, but ah! how much more he gives! imagine our bird-lover describing a bird as ellery channing described one, as something with "a few feathers, a hole at one end and a point at the other, and a pair of wings"! we see the bird mr. burroughs sees; we hear the one he hears. long before i had the memorable experience of standing with him on the banks of the willowemoc and listening at twilight to the slow, divine chant of the hermit thrush, i had heard it in my dreams, because of that inimitable description of its song in "wake-robin." it does, indeed, seem to be "the voice of that calm, sweet solemnity one attains to in his best moments." as one listens to its strain in the hush of twilight, the pomp of cities and the pride of civilization of a truth seem trivial and cheap. what a near, human interest our author makes us feel in the birds, how we watch their courtships, how we peer into their nests, and how lively is our solicitude for their helpless young swung in their "procreant cradles," beset on all sides by foes that fly and creep and glide! and not only does he make the bird a visible living creature; he makes it sing joyously to the ear, while all nature sings blithely to the eye. we see the bird, not as a mass of feathers with "upper parts bright blue, belly white, breast ruddy brown, mandibles and legs black," as the textbooks have it, but as a thing of life and beauty: "yonder bluebird with the earth tinge on his breast and the sky tinge on his back,--did he come down out of heaven on that bright march morning when he told us so softly and plaintively that, if we pleased, spring had come?" who is there in reading this matchless description of the bluebird that does not feel the retreat of winter, that does not feel his pulse quicken with the promise of approaching spring, that does not feel that the bird did, indeed, come down out of heaven, the heaven of hope and promise, even though the skies are still bleak, and the winds still cold? who, indeed, except those prosaic beings who are blind and deaf to the most precious things in life? "i heard a bluebird this morning!" one exclaimed exultantly, so stirred as to forget momentarily her hearer's incapacity for enthusiasm. "well, and did it sound any different from what it did last year, and the year before, and the year before that?" inquired in measured, world-wearied tones the dampener of ardors. no, my poor friend, it did not. and just because it sounded the same as it has in all the succeeding springs since life was young, it touched a chord in one's heart that must be long since mute in your own, making you poor, indeed, if this dear familiar bird voice cannot set it vibrating once more. the end rambles of a naturalist. with a memoir of the author, dr. john d. godman. philadelphia: published by the association of friends for the diffusion of religious and useful knowledge, north tenth street. . the account of the life and character of dr. john d. godman has been prepared from the several brief memoirs and eulogies published shortly after his decease, and from the tract issued by "the tract association of friends," entitled "a sketch of the life and character of dr. john d. godman." "the rambles of a naturalist" have been republished from "the friend," a weekly paper, for the columns of which the essays were originally contributed. memoir of dr. john d. godman. dr. john d. godman, the author of the pleasing descriptions which, under their simple title, "rambles of a naturalist," contain so much of the beautiful and true, was born at annapolis, in maryland, in the year . at a very early age he was deprived, by their death, of both his parents. he was then placed under the care of an aunt, whose intellectual attainments and elevated piety, united to much sweetness of disposition, eminently qualified her for the direction of the youthful mind. his fondness for books and aptitude for learning were remarkable; while his frank, sensitive, and sweet temper gained the affection of all around him. it is said that he had such a reverence for truth, even from infancy, that he was never known to equivocate. when he attained the age of six years, his excellent aunt died. the patrimony which should have provided for his wants, was lost through the mismanagement of those to whom the care of it had been entrusted; and thus, without resources, and without suitable protection, he was left exposed to adversity and temptation. it appears, however, that the moral and religious impressions which had already been made upon his mind, though obscured for a time, were never obliterated. in his last illness he bore this testimony to the affectionate religious care of his pious aunt. "if," said he, "i have ever been led to do any good, it has been through the influence of her example, instruction, and prayers." little is known of the next ten years of his life. he appears to have had some opportunities for attending school; but to his own native energy and uncommon intellectual endowments, self cultured under many obstacles and discouragements, is his future superiority of mental attainment to be chiefly attributed. an interesting incident of his character, after he had attained his fifteenth year, has been furnished by a physician who was, in , a senior student in the office of dr. thomas e. bond, of baltimore. "the office," says he, "was fitted up with taste, and boys, attracted by its appearance, would frequently drop in to gaze on the labelled jars and drawers. among them i discovered one evening an interesting lad, who was amusing himself with the manner in which his comrades pronounced the 'hard words' with which the furniture was labelled. he appeared to be quite an adept in the latin language. a strong curiosity soon prompted me to inquire, 'what is your name, my little boy?' he was small of his age. 'my name is john d. godman.' 'did you study the latin language with mr. creery?' 'no, he does not teach any but an english school.' 'do you intend to prosecute your studies alone?' 'i do; and i will, if i live, make myself a latin, greek, and french scholar.'" in he was bound an apprentice to a printer of a newspaper, in baltimore, but soon became much dissatisfied with the occupation, which, he said, in a letter to a friend, "cramped his genius over a font of types, where there are words without ideas." he had been placed in this situation against his own wish, being anxious to enter a more intellectual pursuit, and had selected that of medicine; but his guardian was opposed to it. his early views of the christian religion are thus expressed in a letter to a friend, in the early part of : "i have not ever had a fixed determination to read the works of that modern serpent (thomas paine), nor had i determined not to do it; and it seems to me surprising that a fellow-student of yours should recommend the perusal of such writings. "there is a great comfort in the belief of that glorious doctrine of salvation that teaches us to look to the great salvator for happiness in a future life; and it has always been my earnest desire, and i must endeavour to die the death of the righteous, that my last end and future state may be like his. it would be a poor hope indeed, it would be a sandy foundation for a dying soul, to have no hope but such as might be derived from the works of bolingbroke and paine; and how rich the consolation and satisfaction afforded by the glorious tidings of the blessed scriptures! it is my opinion there has never one of these modern deists died as their writings would lead us to believe; nor are but few of their writings read at the present day." about this time he appears to have left the printing-office, and became a sailor on board the flotilla stationed in chesapeake bay, under com. barney. it was while in this situation that an incident occurred to which he has himself attributed much of the buoyancy and energy of his character. a raw sailor, who had been sent aloft by the captain, and was busy in performing some duty which required him to stoop, was observed to falter and grow dizzy. "_look aloft_" cried the captain; and the fainting landsman, as he instinctively obeyed the order, recovered his strength and steadiness. the young philosopher read a moral in this trifling incident which he never forgot, and which frequently animated and aroused him in the most adverse circumstances. it is not treating the subject with undue levity to add, that in the last and closing scene of his life, when the earth was receding from his view, and his failing strength admonished him of his peril, the watchword was still ringing in his ear. at that awful period he "looked aloft" to "worlds beyond the skies," and therein derived strength and hope, which supported him in his passage through the narrow valley. at the close of the war, young godman received an invitation from dr. l., the physician already mentioned, to come to his house in elizabethtown, pa., where he would have the opportunity of studying medicine. this offer was accepted with joy; and he resolved, by the most indefatigable study and diligence, to deserve the kindness of his friend. "in six weeks," says the doctor, "he had acquired more knowledge in the different departments of medical science, than most students do in a year. during this short period he not only read chaptal, fourcroy, chesselden, murray, brown, cullen, rush, sydenham, sharp, and cooper, but wrote annotations on each, including critical remarks on the incongruities in their reasonings. he remained with me five months, and at the end of that time you would have imagined from his conversation that he was an edinburgh graduate." when he sat down to study, he was so completely absorbed by his subject, that scarcely any event would withdraw his attention. returning to baltimore, he commenced the attendance of the medical lectures in that city, and pursued his studies under the direction of an eminent medical preceptor. in this situation he, through many affecting difficulties, finished his education as a physician. at one time his feelings are thus described in a letter: "i have been cast among strangers. i have been deprived of property by fraud that was mine by right. i have eaten the bread of misery. i have drunk of the cup of sorrow. i have passed the flower of my days in a state little better than slavery, and have arrived at what? manhood, poverty, and desolation. heavenly parent, teach me patience and resignation to thy will!" professor sewall, in his eulogy on dr. godman, remarks, in relation to this period of his life: "he pursued his studies with such diligence and zeal as to furnish, even at that early period, strong intimations of his future eminence. so indefatigable was he in the acquisition of knowledge, that he left no opportunity of advancement unimproved; and, notwithstanding the deficiencies of his preparatory education, he pressed forward with an energy and perseverance that enabled him not only to rival, but to surpass all his fellows." while attending his last course of lectures in the university of maryland, professor davidge, who was his preceptor, was disabled by the fracture of a limb from completing the course. he selected his gifted pupil to supply his place. "this situation he filled for several weeks with so much propriety; he lectured with such enthusiasm and eloquence; his illustrations were so clear and happy, as to gain universal applause. at the time he was examined for his degree, the superiority of his mind, as well as the extent and accuracy of his knowledge, were so apparent, that he was marked by the professors of the university as one who was destined at some future period to confer high honour upon the profession." dr. godman graduated in the second month, , and soon after settled in maryland, as a practitioner, in a county bordering on the chesapeake, the spot described with so much truthful beauty in some of the numbers of his "rambles of a naturalist." here he devoted all the intervals of leisure from a laborious practice to the study of natural history, in which, from his ardent love of the subject, and his minute, persevering investigation of it, he became so distinguished. his intellectual powers had fitted him for a wider sphere than that of a village doctor. his nature urged him to enter on a field more worthy of his gifts. he returned to baltimore, with the hope of being engaged in the university as a professor, but found that arrangements different from what he anticipated had been made. here he married, and not long after received an appointment to fill the chair of surgery in the medical college of ohio, located at cincinnati. he was recommended by one of the professors of the school in which he had been educated, in this emphatic language: "in my opinion, dr. godman would do honour to any school in america." the ohio school not succeeding, dr. godman resided in cincinnati for one year only; but in that short period inscribed himself deeply on the public mind. the memory of his works remains. in the midst of his varied scientific labours, he found time to cultivate his social relations, and every day added a new friend to the catalogue of those who loved him for his simplicity and frankness, not less than they admired him for his genius, vivacity, and diligence. he returned to philadelphia, and soon after began to lecture on anatomy and physiology, his first and greatest objects. his residence in this city continued for several years, during which time he wrote many valuable papers on scientific subjects, and published his celebrated work, "the natural history of american quadrupeds," which has attained deserved popularity. the fame of dr. godman as a teacher of anatomy was now widely spread, and he was solicited to accept the professorship of that branch in the rutgers medical college at new york. his practice soon became extensive, and the affairs of the college prosperous, when, in the midst of his second course of lectures, a severe cold settled on his lungs, accompanied by a copious hemorrhage, and compelled him to abandon his pursuits, and flee for his life to a milder region. he sailed for the west indies, and passed the remainder of the winter and spring in the island of santa cruz. returning after this to philadelphia, he took a house in germantown, and by the labours of his pen, continued to support his family. his consumptive disease continued, though for a time so far mitigated, that his friends flattered themselves his life was yet to be spared to science and his country. at this time he says of himself: "at present, that i am comparatively well, my literary occupations form my chief pleasure; and all the regret i experience is, that my strength is so inadequate to my wishes. should my health remain as it is now, i shall do very well; and i cannot but hope, since we have recently passed through a severe spell of cold weather without my receiving any injury. all my prospects as a public teacher of anatomy are utterly destroyed, as i can never hope, nor would i venture if i could, again to resume my labours. my success promised to be very great, but it has pleased god i should move in a different direction." his disease advanced with steady pace, and, though there were many fluctuations, his strength continued to decline. the gradual progress of his disorder allowed him many intervals of comparative ease. in these he returned to his literary labours with his usual ardour, and wrote and translated for the press until within a few weeks of his death. perfectly aware of the fatal character of his disorder, he watched its progress step by step with the coolness of an anatomist, while he submitted to it with the resignation of a christian. the "rambles of a naturalist" were among the last productions of his pen, and were written in the intervals of acute pain and extreme debility. these essays are not inferior in poetical beauty, and vivid and accurate description, to the celebrated letters of gilbert white on the natural history of selbourne. he came to the study of natural history as an investigator of facts, and not as a pupil of the schools; his great aim being to learn the instincts, the structure, and the habits of all animated beings. this science was a favourite pursuit, and he devoted himself to it with indefatigable zeal. he has been heard to say that, in investigating the habits of the shrew mole, he walked many hundred miles. his powers of observation were quick, patient, keen, and discriminating: it was these qualities that made him so admirable a naturalist. his fame, however, rested chiefly, during his life, upon his success as a teacher of anatomy, and in this capacity he raised himself at once to the top of his profession. he was so intent on making his students understand him, and he was so fully master of the subject himself, that his clear and animated flow of eloquence never failed to rivet their attention; and he became, wherever he taught, the idol of his pupils. his lectures on anatomy were real analytical experiments. the subject was placed before the class; tissue and muscle and blood, vessel and bone, were laid bare in their turn, their use and position exemplified to the eye, and enforced by the most lively and precise description; while the student was at the same time receiving the most valuable lessons in practical dissection. dr. godman had a remarkable capacity for concentrating all his powers upon any given object of pursuit. what he had once read or observed he rarely, if ever, forgot. hence it was that, although his early education was much neglected, he became an excellent linguist, and made himself master of latin, french, and german, besides acquiring a knowledge of greek, italian, and spanish. he had read the best works in these languages, and wrote with facility the latin and french. his character and acquirements are justly portrayed by a distinguished journalist, in the extracts which follow. "the tributes," said he, "which have been paid in the newspapers to the late dr. godman, were especially due to the memory of a man so variously gifted by nature, and so nobly distinguished by industry and zeal in the acquisition and advancement of science. he did not enjoy early opportunities of self-improvement, but he cultivated his talents, as he approached manhood, with a degree of ardour and success which supplied all deficiencies; and he finally became one of the most accomplished general scholars and linguists, acute and erudite naturalists, ready, pleasing, and instructive lecturers and writers, of his country and era. the principal subject of his study was anatomy in its main branches, in which he excelled in every respect. his attention was much directed also to physiology, pathology, and natural history, with an aptitude and efficiency abundantly proved by the merits of his published works, which we need not enumerate. we do not now recollect to have known any individual who inspired us with more respect for his intellect and heart, than dr. godman; to whom knowledge and discovery appeared more abstractly precious; whose eye shed more of the lustre of generous and enlightened enthusiasm; whose heart remained more vivid and sympathetic amidst professional labour and responsibility, always extremely severe and urgent. considering the decline of his health for a long period, and the pressure of adverse circumstances, which he too frequently experienced, he performed prodigies as a student, an author, and a teacher; he prosecuted extensive and diversified researches; composed superior disquisitions and reviews, and large and valuable volumes; and in the great number of topics which he handled simultaneously, or in immediate succession, he touched none without doing himself credit, and producing some new development of light, or happy forms of expression. he lingered for years under consumption of the lungs; understood fully the incurableness of his melancholy state; spoke and acted with an unfeigned and beautiful resignation; toiled at his desk to the last day of his thirty-two years, still glowing with the love of science and the domestic affections." upon all this bright attainment and brighter promise for the future the grave has closed. divine providence saw fit to arrest him in the midst of his unfinished labours. we have now to view him in another and far more important relation--that which man, as an immortal being, bears to his almighty creator. dr. godman's generous and enthusiastic devotion to science and learning commands our admiration; and perhaps no more ennobling pursuits can occupy the mind of him who looks not beyond the present state of existence; but when these are brought into contrast with the solemn and momentous concerns of eternity, they sink into utter insignificance. how then was the subject of this memoir influenced by _religious_ considerations? unhappily, the philosophical and religious opinions of dr. godman were formed originally in the school of the french naturalists of the last century. many of the most distinguished of these men were avowed atheists, and a still greater number rejected absolutely the christian revelation. such is fallen human nature! surrounded by the most magnificent displays of almighty wisdom--placed on a scene where all things speak of god, and invite us to worship and obey him--a purblind philosophy may devote herself to the study of his works, yet pass by the testimony they furnish of his existence and attributes, and see nothing in all this wonderful creation more noble than the mere relations of colour and form. it was so with dr. godman; for, while assisted by such lights as these, and guided alone in his investigations by perverted reason, he became, as he tells us, _an established infidel_, rejecting revelation, and casting all the evidences of an existing deity beneath his feet. in the merciful providence of a long-suffering god, the light of truth at length beamed upon his darkened understanding. in the winter of , while engaged in his course of lectures in new york, an incident occurred which led him to a candid perusal of the new testament. it was a visit to the death-bed of a christian--the death-bed of a student of medicine. there he saw what reason could not explain nor philosophy fathom. he opened his bible, and the secret was unfolded. he was in all things a seeker of the truth, and could not satisfy himself with any superficial examination. he applied himself assiduously to the study of the new testament; and that this sincere and thorough examination of the inspired volume was made the means of his full conversion, will best appear from his own eloquent pen. the following is an extract of a letter he addressed to a medical friend, dr. judson, a surgeon in the navy of the united states, who was at that time in the last stage of consumption: "_germantown, december th, ._ in relation to dying, my dear friend, you talk like a sick man, and just as i used to do, when very despondent. death is a debt we all owe to nature, and must eventually ensue from a mere wearing out of the machine, if not from disease. nature certainly has a strong abhorrence to this cessation of corporeal action, and all animals have a dread of death who are conscious of its approach. a part of our dread of death is purely physical, and is avoidable only by a philosophical conviction of its necessity; but the greater part of our dread, and the terrors with which the avenues to the grave are surrounded, are from another and a more potent source. ''tis conscience that makes cowards of us all,' and forces us by our terrors to confess, that we dread something beyond physical dissolution, and that we are terrified not at merely ceasing to breathe, but that we have not lived as we ought to have done, have not effected the good that was within the compass of our abilities, and neglected to exercise the talents we possessed, to the greatest advantage. the only remedy for this fear of death is to be sought by approaching the author of all things in the way prescribed by himself, and not according to our own foolish imaginations. humiliation of pride, denial of self, subjection of evil tempers and dispositions, and an entire submission to his will for support and direction, are the best preparatives for such an approach. a perusal of the gospels, in a spirit of real inquiry after a direction how to act, will certainly teach the way. in these gospels the saviour himself has preached his own doctrines, and he who runs may read. he has prescribed the course; he shows how the approval and mercy of god may be won; he shows how awfully corrupt is man's nature, and how deadly his pride and stubbornness of heart, which cause him to try every subterfuge to avoid the humiliating confession of his own weakness, ignorance, and folly. but the same blessed hand has stripped death of all the terrors which brooded around the grave, and converted the gloomy receptacle of our mortal remains into the portal of life and light. oh! let me die the death of the righteous; let my last end and future state be like his! this is all i know on the subject. i am no theologian, and have as great an aversion to priestcraft as one can entertain. i was once an infidel, as i told you in the west indies. i became a christian from conviction produced by the candid inquiry recommended to you. i know of no other way in which death can be stripped of its terrors; certainly none better can be wished. philosophy is a fool, and pride a madman. many persons die with what is called _manly firmness_; that is, having acted a part all their lives, according to their prideful creed, they must die _game_. they put on as smooth a face as they can, to impose on the spectators, and die _firmly_. but this is all deception: the true state of their minds at the very time, nine times out of ten, is worse than the most horrible imaginings even of hell itself. some who have led lives adapted to sear their conscience and petrify all the moral sensibilities, die with a kind of indifference similar to that with which a hardened convict submits to a new infliction of disgraceful punishment. but the man who dies as a man ought to die, is the humble-minded, believing christian; one who has tasted and enjoyed all the blessings of creation; who has had an enlightened view of the wisdom and glory of his creator; who has felt the vanity of merely worldly pursuits and motives, and been permitted to know the mercies of a blessed redeemer, as he approaches the narrow house appointed for all the living. physical death may cause his senses to shrink and fail at the trial; but his mind, sustained by the rock of ages, is serene and unwavering. he relies not on his own righteousness, for that would be vain; but the arms of mercy are beneath him, the ministering spirits of the omnipotent are around him. he does not die manfully, but he rests in jesus; he blesses his friends, he casts his hope on one all-powerful to sustain and mighty to save, then sleeps in peace. he is dead, but liveth; for he who is the resurrection and the life has declared, 'whoso believeth on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.' 'and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.'" ... this letter, which so truly contrasts the death-bed scene of the infidel with that of the christian, so beautifully portrays the history of the change which had been effected in dr. godman's own sentiments and affections, and so clearly points the benighted wanderer to the true source of life and light, was not lost upon his friend to whom it was addressed. it described his condition, and it reached his heart. dr. judson, though religiously instructed when young, having a pious clergyman for his father, and another for his elder brother, had nevertheless long since freed himself from what he called the prejudices of education, the shackles of priestcraft, and was ranging the fields of infidelity. he had acquired wealth and reputation, and was an estimable man in all the domestic relations of life; but the self-denying doctrines of the saviour were too humbling to his proud spirit, and he could not submit to their influence. at the time he received dr. godman's letter, however, he was gloomy and despondent, looking forward with fearful forebodings to the period of his dissolution, which seemed not far distant. he had no confidence but that of the sceptic--no hope but that of ceasing to be. aware of the fatal nature of the disease under which he had lingered for years, he had long been arming himself to meet the king of terrors with composure, that he might die like a philosopher, "_with manly firmness_;" but as he drew nearer to the grave, the clouds and darkness thickened around him, and he began to fear that there might be something beyond this narrow prison. his infidelity now began to give way, and he inquired with solicitude: "is there such a thing as the new birth, and if so, in what does it consist?" he at length consented to make the investigation recommended by dr. godman. he took up the new testament, and read it in the spirit of candid inquiry. a conviction of the truth of its doctrines fastened upon him. the clouds which had so long enveloped him were dissipated, light broke in upon his mind, and he was enabled to lay hold of the promises. the remaining days of his life were devoted to fervent prayer and the constant study of the scriptures. through the holy influences of divine grace, he was enabled to rely with undoubting confidence on the infinite merits of his redeemer, his soul was filled with heavenly composure, and the last words he uttered were, "peace, peace." if he did not die with "_manly firmness_," he "_rested in jesus_." dr. godman's views of the authenticity and practical tendency of the gospel, are expressed with singular force and beauty in the following extract from an essay written not long before his death: "is proof wanting that these gospels are true? it is only necessary for an honest mind to read them candidly, to be convinced. every occurrence is stated clearly, simply, and unostentatiously. the narrations are not supported by asseverations of their truth, nor by parade of witnesses: the circumstances described took place in presence of vast multitudes, and are told in that downright, unpretending manner which would have called forth innumerable positive contradictions had they been untrue. mysteries are stated without attempt at explanation, because _explanation_ is not necessary to establish the _existence_ of facts, however mysterious. miracles, also, attested by the presence of vast numbers, are stated in the plainest language of narration, in which the slightest working of imagination cannot be traced. this very simplicity, this unaffected sincerity, and quiet affirmation, have more force than a thousand witnesses--more efficacy than volumes of ambitious effort to support truth by dint of argumentation. what motive could the evangelists have to falsify? the christian kingdom is not _of this world_, nor _in it_. christianity teaches disregard of its vanities, depreciates its honours and enjoyments, and sternly declares that none can be christians but those who escape from its vices and allurements. there is no call directed to ambition, no gratification proposed to vanity: the sacrifice of self, the denial of all the propensities which relate to the gratification of passion or pride, with the most humble dependence upon god, are invariably taught and most solemnly enjoined, under penalty of the most awful consequences. is it, then, wonderful that such a system should find revilers? is it surprising that sceptics should abound, when the slightest allowance of belief would force them to condemn all their actions? or is it to be wondered at that a purity of life and conversation so repugnant to human passion, and a humility so offensive to human pride, should be opposed, rejected, and contemned? such is the true secret of the opposition to _religion_--such the cause inducing men who lead unchristian lives, to array the frailties, errors, weaknesses, and vices of individuals or sects, against _christianity_, hoping to weaken or destroy the system by rendering ridiculous or contemptible those who _profess_ to be governed by its influence, though their conduct shows them to be acting under an opposite spirit. what is the mode in which this most extraordinary doctrine of christianity is to be diffused? by force, temporal power, temporal rewards, earthly triumphs? none of these. by earnest persuasion, gentle entreaty, brotherly monition, paternal remonstrance. the dread resort of threatened punishment comes last; exhibited in sorrow, not in anger; told as a fearful truth, not denounced with vindictive exultation; while to the last moment the beamy shield of mercy is ready to be interposed for the saving of the endangered. human doctrines are wavering and mutable; the doctrines of the blessed and adorable jesus, our saviour, are fixed and immutable. the traditions of men are dissimilar and inconsistent; the declarations of the gospel are harmonious, not only with each other, but with the acknowledged attributes of the deity, and the well-known condition of human nature. what do sceptics propose to give us in exchange for this system of christianity, with its 'hidden mysteries,' 'miracles,' 'signs and wonders?' doubt, confusion, obscurity, annihilation! life, without higher motive than selfishness; death, without hope! is it for this that their zeal is so warmly displayed in proselyting? is such the gain to accrue for the relinquishment of our souls? in very deed, this is the utmost they have to propose; and we can only account for their rancorous efforts to render others like themselves, by reflecting that misery loves company." his intellect was strong and undimmed to the last, and almost the only change that could be observed in his mind was that which belongs to a being on the verge, of eternity, in whose estimate the concerns of this life are sinking in comparison with the greater interests of that to which he is approaching. his principal delight was in the promises and consolations of the bible, which was his constant companion. on one occasion, a few days before his death, while reading aloud from the new testament to his family, his voice faltered, and he was desired to read no longer, as it appeared to oppress him. "it is not that," replied he; "but i feel so in the immediate presence of my maker, that i cannot control my emotion!" in a manuscript volume which he sent to a friend, and which he intended to fill with original pieces of his own composition, he wrote as follows: "did i not in all things feel most thoroughly convinced that the overruling of our plans by an all-wise providence is always for good, i might regret that a part of my plan cannot be executed. this was to relate a few curious incidents from among the events of my most singularly guided life, which, in addition to mere novelty or peculiarity of character, could not have failed practically to illustrate the importance of inculcating correct religious and moral principles, and imbuing the mind therewith from the very earliest dawn of intellect, from the very moment that the utter imbecility of infancy begins to disappear. may his holy will be done, who can raise up abler advocates to support the truth." "this is my first attempt to write in my token; why may it not be the last? oh! should it be, believe me, that the will of god will be most acceptable. notwithstanding the life of neglect, sinfulness, and perversion of heart which i so long led, before it pleased him to dash all my idols in the dust, i feel a humble hope in the boundless mercy of our blessed lord and saviour, who alone can save the soul from merited condemnation. may it be in the power of those who chance to read these lines, to say, into thy hands i commit my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, o lord! thou god of truth!" a reliance on the mercies of god through jesus christ became indeed the habitual frame of his mind, and imparted to the closing scenes of his life a solemnity and a calmness, a sweet serenity and a holy resignation, which robbed death of its sting and the grave of its victory. the following extracts from some of his letters afford additional evidence of the great and glorious change which he had been permitted to experience. "_philadelphia, feb. th, ._ "my dear friend,--since my last to you my health has suffered various and most afflicting changes."--"but thanks to the mercies of him who is alone able to save, the valley and shadow of death were stripped of their terrors, and the descent to the grave was smoothed before me. relying on the mercies and infinite merits of the saviour, had it pleased god to call me then, i believe i should have died in a peaceful, humble confidence. but i have been restored to a state of comparative health, perhaps nearly to the condition in which i was when i wrote to dr. judson; and i am again allowed to think of the education of my children and the support of my family." in reply to a letter from professor sewall, giving an account of the last moments of his friend dr. judson, he responds in the following feeling manner: "_germantown, may st, ._ my dear friend,--i feel very grateful for your attention in sending me an account of our dear judson's last moments. after all his doubts, difficulties, and mental conflicts, to know that the father of mercies was pleased to open his eyes to the truth, and shed abroad in his heart the love and, salvation offered through the redeemer, is to me a source of the purest gratification, and a cause of the most sincere rejoicing. the bare possibility of my having been even slightly instrumental in effecting the blessed change of mind he experienced, excites in me emotions of gratitude to the source of all good which words cannot express."--"my health has been in a very poor condition since my last to you. the warm weather now appears to have set in, and possibly i may improve a little, otherwise it will not be long before i follow our lately departed friend. let me participate in the prayers you offer for the sick and afflicted, and may god grant me strength to die to his honour and glory, in the hopes and constancy derived from the merits and atonement of the blessed saviour." "_philadelphia, oct. th, ._ my dear friend,--my health is, as for a considerable time past, in a very tolerable condition; that is, i can sit up a great part of the day, writing or reading, without much injury. my emaciation is great, and, though not very rapid, is steady, so that the change in my strength takes place almost imperceptibly. on the whole, though i suffer greatly, compared with persons in health, yet so gently have the chastenings of the lord fallen upon me, that i am hourly called upon for thankfulness and gratitude for his unfailing mercies. equal cause have i had for rejoicing, that i have learned to put my whole trust in him, as he has raised me up help and friends in circumstances which seemed to render even hope impossible, and has blessed me and mine with peace and content in the midst of all afflictions, trials, and adversity." in his last letter to dr. best, of cincinnati, with whom he had long maintained an affectionate correspondence, he writes: "it gives me great happiness to learn that you have been taught, as well as myself, to fly to the rock of ages for shelter against the afflictions of this life, and for hopes of eternal salvation. but for the hopes afforded me by an humble reliance on the all-sufficient atonement of our blessed redeemer, i should have been the most wretched of men. but i trust that the afflictions i have endured have been sanctified to my awakening, and to the regeneration of my heart and life. may we, my dear friend, persist to cling to the only sure support against all that is evil in life and all that is fearful in death!" dr. best's circumstances were in several respects similar to those of his friend godman: like him, he had been a disbeliever in the christian religion, and like him had been brought by a careful examination of its evidences to a perception and an acknowledgment of the truth. he too was at this time languishing in consumption, which brought him to the grave a few months after dr. godman; and like him he was supported and animated by the precious faith of the gospel, and yielded up his spirit in hope and peace. professor sewall,[a] from whose account much of this memoir has been derived, remarks: "in the last letter which i ever received from him, he observes: 'i have just concluded the publication of the translation of levasseur's account of lafayette's progress through the united states, which will appear next week. my health has for the last week or two been very good, for me, since, notwithstanding my rather excessive application during this time, i continue to do well. my cough and expectoration are sufficiently troublesome; but by light diet, and avoiding all irritation, i have but very little trouble from night sweats, and generally sleep tolerably well. to-morrow i must resume my pen to complete some articles of zoology for the encyclopedia americana, now preparing in boston. it shall be my constant endeavour to husband my strength to the last; and, by doing as much as is consistent with safety for the good of my fellow-creatures, endeavour to discharge a mite of the immense debt i owe for the never-failing bounties of providence.'" [a] "an introductory lecture delivered november st, , by thomas sewall, m. d., professor of anatomy and physiology in the columbian college, district of columbia." he did husband his strength, and he toiled with his pen almost to the last hours of his life; and by thus doing has furnished us with a singular evidence of the possibility of uniting the highest attainments in science, and the most ardent devotion to letters, with the firmest belief and the purest practice of the christian. but the period of his dissolution was not distant: the summons arrived; and conscious that the messenger, who had been long in waiting, could not be bribed to tarry, he commended his little family in a fervent prayer to him who has promised to be the 'father of the fatherless, and the widow's god,' and then, with uplifted eyes and hands, and a face beaming with joy and confidence, resigned his spirit into the arms of his redeemer, on the morning of the th of fourth month, . a friend who was his constant companion during his sickness, and witnessed his last moments, writes thus: "you ask me to give you an account of his last moments: they were such as have robbed me of all terror of death, and will afford me lasting comfort through life. the same self-composure and entire resignation which were so remarkable through his whole sickness, supported him to the end. oh! it was not death; it was a release from mortal misery to everlasting happiness. such calmness, when he prayed for us all--such a heavenly composure, even till the breath left him, you would have thought he was going only a short journey. during the day, his sufferings had been almost beyond enduring. frequently did he pray that the lord would give him patience to endure all till the end, knowing that it could not be many hours; and truly his prayers were heard. '_lord jesus, receive my soul_,' were the last words he uttered, and his countenance appeared as if he had a foretaste of heaven even before his spirit left this world." the fine imagination and deep enthusiasm of dr. godman occasionally burst forth in impassioned poetry. he wrote verse and prose with almost equal facility, and had he lived and enjoyed leisure to prune the exuberance of his style, and to bestow the last polish upon his labours, he would have ranked as one of the great masters of our language, both in regard to the curious felicity and the strength and clearness of his diction. the following specimens of his poetical compositions are selected less for their intrinsic excellence, than for the picture which they furnish of his private meditations. a midnight meditation. "'tis midnight's solemn hour! now wide unfurled darkness expands her mantle o'er the world; the fire-fly's lamp has ceased its fitful gleam; the cricket's chirp is hushed; the boding scream of the gray owl is stilled; the lofty trees scarce wave their summits to the failing breeze; all nature is at rest, or seems to sleep; 'tis thine alone, o man! to watch and weep! thine 'tis to feel thy system's sad decay, as flares the taper of thy life away beneath the influence of fell disease: thine 'tis to _know_ the want of mental ease springing from memory of time misspent, of slighted blessings, deepest discontent and riotous rebellion 'gainst the laws of health, truth, heaven, to win the world's applause! --such was thy course, eugenio; such thy hardened heart, till mercy spoke, and death unsheathed the dart, twanged his unerring bow, and drove the steel too deep to be withdrawn, too wide the wound to heal, yet left of life a feebly glimmering ray, slowly to sink and gently ebb away. --and yet, how blest am i! while myriad others lie in agony of fever or of pain, with parching tongue and burning eye, or fiercely throbbing brain; my feeble frame, though spoiled of rest, is not of comfort dispossest. my mind awake, looks up to thee, father of mercy! whose blest hand i see in all things acting for our good, howe'er thy mercies be misunderstood. --see where the waning moon slowly surmounts yon dark tree-tops, her light increases steadily, and soon the solemn night her stole of darkness drops: thus to my sinking soul, in hours of gloom, the cheering beams of hope resplendent come, thus the thick clouds which sin and sorrow rear are changed to brightness, or swift disappear. hark! that shrill note proclaims approaching day; the distant east is streaked with lines of gray; faint warblings from the neighbouring groves arise, the tuneful tribes salute the brightening skies, peace breathes around; dim visions o'er me creep, the weary night outwatched, thank god! i too may sleep. lines written under a feeling of the immediate approach of death. the damps of death are on my brow, the chill is in my heart, my blood has almost ceased to flow, my hopes of life depart; the valley and the shadow before me open wide, but thou, o lord! even there wilt be my guardian and my guide, for what is pain, if thou art nigh its bitterness to quell? and where death's boasted victory, his last triumphant spell? o saviour! in that hour when mortal strength is nought, when nature's agony comes on, and every anguished thought springs in the breaking heart a source of darkest woe, be nigh unto my soul, nor permit the floods o'erflow. to thee, to thee alone! dare i raise my dying eyes; thou didst for all atone, by thy wondrous sacrifice; oh! in thy mercy's richness, extend thy smiles on me, and let my soul outspeak thy praise, throughout eternity!" beneath the above stanzas, in the manuscript alluded to, is the following note: "rather more than a year has elapsed since the above was first written. death is now certainly nearer at hand; but my sentiments remain unchanged, except that my reliance on the saviour is stronger." it was a melancholy sight to witness the premature extinction of such a spirit; yet the dying couch on which genius, and virtue, and learning thus lay prostrated, beamed with more hallowed lustre, and taught a more salutary lesson, than could have been imparted by the proudest triumphs of intellect. the memory of dr. godman, his blighted promise and his unfinished labours, will long continue to call forth the vain regrets of men of science and learning. there are those who treasure, up in their hearts, as a more precious recollection, his humble faith and his triumphant death, and who can meet with an eye of pity the scornful glance of the scoffer and the infidel, at being told that if dr. godman was a philosopher, he was also a christian. rambles of a naturalist. rambles of a naturalist. no. i. from early youth devoted to the study of nature, it has always been my habit to embrace every opportunity of increasing my knowledge and pleasures by actual observation, and have ever found ample means of gratifying this disposition, wherever my place has been allotted by providence. when an inhabitant of the country, it was sufficient to go a few steps from the door, to be in the midst of numerous interesting objects; when a resident of the crowded city, a healthful walk of half an hour placed me where my favourite enjoyment was offered in abundance; and now, when no longer able to seek in fields and woods and running streams for that knowledge which cannot readily be elsewhere obtained, the recollection of my former rambles is productive of a satisfaction which past pleasures but seldom bestow. perhaps a statement of the manner in which my studies were pursued, may prove interesting to those who love the works of nature, and may not be aware how great a field for original observation is within their reach, or how vast a variety of instructive objects are easily accessible, even to the occupants of a bustling metropolis. to me it will be a source of great delight to spread these resources before the reader, and enable him so cheaply to participate in the pleasures i have enjoyed, as well as place him in the way of enlarging the general stock of knowledge, by communicating the results of his original observations. one of my favourite walks was through turner's lane, which is about a quarter of a mile long, and not much wider than an ordinary street, being closely fenced in on both sides; yet my reader may feel surprised when informed that i found ample employment for all my leisure, during six weeks, within and about its precincts. on entering the lane from the ridge road, i observed a gentle elevation of the turf beneath the lower rails of the fence, which appeared to be uninterruptedly continuous; and when i had cut through the verdant roof with my knife, it proved to be a regularly arched gallery or subterranean road, along which the inhabitants could securely travel at all hours, without fear of discovery. the sides and bottom of this arched way were smooth and clean, as if much used; and the raised superior portion had long been firmly consolidated by the grass roots, intermixed with tenacious clay. at irregular and frequently distant intervals, a side path diverged into the neighbouring fields, and, by its superficial situation, irregularity, and frequent openings, showed that its purpose was temporary, or had been only opened for the sake of procuring food. occasionally i found a little gallery diverging from the main route beneath the fence, towards the road, and finally opening on the grass, as if the inmate had come out in the morning to breathe the early air, or to drink of the crystal dew which daily gemmed the close-cropped verdure. how i longed to detect the animal which tenanted these galleries, in the performance of his labours! farther on, upon the top of a high bank, which prevented the pathway from continuing near the fence, appeared another evidence of the industry of my yet unknown miner. half-a-dozen hillocks of loose, almost pulverised earth were thrown up, at irregular distances, communicating with the main gallery by side passages. opening one of these carefully, it appeared to differ little from the common gallery in size, but it was very difficult to ascertain where the loose earth came from, nor have i ever been able to tell, since i never witnessed the formation of these hillocks, and conjectures are forbidden, where nothing but observation is requisite to the decision. my farther progress was now interrupted by a delightful brook which sparkled across the road, over a clear sandy bed; and here my little galleries turned into the field, coursing along at a moderate distance from the stream. i crept through the fence into the meadow on the west side, intending to discover, if possible, the animal whose works had first fixed my attention, but as i approached the bank of the rivulet, something suddenly retreated towards the grass, seeming to vanish almost unaccountably from sight. very carefully examining the point at which it disappeared, i found the entrance of another gallery or burrow, but of very different construction from that first observed. this new one was formed in the grass, near and among whose roots and lower stems a small but regular covered way was practised. endless, however, would have been the attempt to follow this, as it opened in various directions, and ran irregularly into the field, and towards the brook, by a great variety of passages. it evidently belonged to an animal totally different from the owner of the subterranean passage, as i subsequently discovered, and may hereafter relate. tired of my unavailing pursuit, i now returned to the little brook, and seating myself on a stone, remained for some time unconsciously gazing on the fluid which gushed along in unsullied brightness over its pebbly bed. opposite to my seat was an irregular hole in the bed of the stream, into which, in an idle mood, i pushed a small pebble with the end of my stick. what was my surprise, in a few seconds afterwards, to observe the water in this hole in motion, and the pebble i had pushed into it gently approaching the surface. such was the fact: the hole was the dwelling of a stout little crayfish, or fresh-water lobster, who did not choose to be incommoded by the pebble, though doubtless he attributed its sudden arrival to the usual accidents of the stream, and not to my thoughtless movements. he had thrust his broad lobster-like claws under the stone, and then drawn them near to his mouth, thus making a kind of shelf; and, as he reached the edge of the hole, he suddenly extended his claws, and rejected the incumbrance from the lower side, or down stream. delighted to have found a living object with whose habits i was unacquainted, i should have repeated my experiment, but the crayfish presently returned with what might be called an armful of rubbish, and threw it over the side of his cell, and down the stream, as before. having watched him for some time while thus engaged, my attention was caught by the considerable number of similar holes along the margin and in the bed of the stream. one of these i explored with a small rod, and found it to be eight or ten inches deep, and widened below into a considerable chamber, in which the little lobster found a comfortable abode. like all of his tribe, the crayfish makes considerable opposition to being removed from his dwelling, and bit smartly at the stick with his claws: as my present object was only to gain acquaintance with his dwelling, he was speedily permitted to return to it in peace. under the end of a stone lying in the bed of the stream, something was floating in the pure current, which at first seemed like the tail of a fish; and being desirous to obtain a better view, i gently raised the stone on its edge, and was rewarded by a very beautiful sight. the object first observed was the tail of a beautiful salamander, whose sides were of a pale straw colour, flecked with circlets of the richest crimson. its long lizard-like body seemed to be semi-transparent, and its slender limbs appeared like mere productions of the skin. not far distant, and near where the upper end of the stone had been, lay crouched, as if asleep, one of the most beautifully-coloured frogs i had ever beheld. its body was slender compared with most frogs, and its skin covered with stripes of bright reddish-brown and grayish-green, in such a manner as to recall the beautiful markings of the tiger's hide; and, since the time alluded to, it has received the name of _tigrina_ from leconte, its first scientific describer. how long i should have been content to gaze at these beautiful animals, as they lay basking in the living water, i know not, had not the intense heat made me feel the necessity of seeking a shade. it was now past twelve o'clock: i began to retrace my steps towards the city; and, without any particular object, moved along by the little galleries examined in the morning. i had advanced but a short distance, when i found the last place where i had broken open the gallery was _repaired_. the earth was perfectly fresh, and i had lost the chance of discovering the miner, while watching my new acquaintances in the stream. hurrying onward, the same circumstance uniformly presented; the injuries were all efficiently repaired, and had evidently been very recently completed. here was one point gained: it was ascertained that these galleries were still inhabited, and i hoped soon to become acquainted with the inmates. but at this time it appeared fruitless to delay longer, and i returned home, filled with anticipations of pleasure from the success of my future researches. these i shall relate on another occasion, if such narrations as the present be thought of sufficient interest to justify their presentation to the reader. john. no. ii. on the day following my first related excursion, i started early in the morning, and was rewarded by one sight, which could not otherwise have been obtained, well worth the sacrifice of an hour or two of sleep. there may be persons who will smile contemptuously at the idea of a _man's_ being delighted with such trifles; nevertheless, we are not inclined to envy such as disesteem the pure gratification afforded by these simple and easily accessible pleasures. as i crossed an open lot on my way to the lane, a succession of gossamer spider-webs, lightly suspended from various weeds and small shrubs, attracted my attention. the dew which had formed during the night was condensed upon this delicate lace, in globules of most resplendent brilliance, whose clear lustre pleased while it dazzled the sight. in comparison with the immaculate purity of these dew-drops, which reflected and refracted the morning light in beautiful rays, as the gossamer webs trembled in the breeze, how poor would appear the most invaluable diamonds that were ever obtained from golconda or brazil! how rich would any monarch be that could boast the possession of _one_ such, as here glittered in thousands on every herb and spray! they are exhaled in an hour or two, and lost; yet they are almost daily offered to the delighted contemplation of the real lover of nature, who is ever happy to witness the beneficence of the great creator, not less displayed in trivial circumstances, than in the most wonderful of his works. no particular change was discoverable in the works of my little miners, except that all the places which had been a second time broken down, were again repaired, showing that the animal had passed between the times of my visit; and it may not be uninteresting to observe how the repair was effected. it appeared, when the animal arrived at the spot broken open or exposed to the air, that it changed its direction sufficiently downwards to raise enough of earth from the lower surface to fill up the opening; this of course slightly altered the direction of the gallery at this point, and though the earth thrown up was quite pulverulent, it was so nicely arched as to retain its place, and soon became consolidated. having broken open a gallery where the turf was very close, and the soil tenacious, i was pleased to find the direction of the chamber somewhat changed: on digging farther with my clasp-knife, i found a very beautiful cell excavated in very tough clay, deeper than the common level of the gallery, and towards one side. this little lodging-room would probably have held a small melon, and was nicely arched all round. it was perfectly clear, and quite smooth, as if much used: to examine it fully, i was obliged to open it completely. (the next day, it was replaced by another, made a little farther to one side, exactly of the same kind: it was replaced a second time, but when broken up a third time, it was left in ruins.) as twelve o'clock approached, my solicitude to discover the little miner increased to a considerable degree: previous observation led me to believe that about that time his presence was to be expected. i had trodden down the gallery for some inches in a convenient place, and stood close by, in vigilant expectation. my wishes were speedily gratified: in a short time the flattened gallery began at one end to be raised to its former convexity, and the animal rapidly advanced. with a beating heart, i thrust the knife-blade down by the side of the rising earth, and quickly turned it over to one side, throwing my prize fairly into the sunshine. for an instant, he seemed motionless from surprise, when i caught and imprisoned him in my hat. it would be vain for me to attempt a description of my pleasure in having thus succeeded, small as was my conquest. i was delighted with the beauty of my captive's fur; with the admirable adaptation of his diggers, or broad rose-tinted hands; the wonderful strength of his fore-limbs, and the peculiar suitableness of his head and neck to the kind of life the author of nature had designed him for. it was the shrew-mole, or _scalops canadensis_, whose history and peculiarities of structure are minutely related in the first volume of godman's american natural history. all my researches never enabled me to discover a nest, female, or young one of this species. all i ever caught were males, though this most probably was a mere accident. the breeding of the scalops is nearly all that is wanting to render our knowledge of it complete. this little animal has eyes, though they are not discoverable during its living condition, nor are they of any use to it above ground. in running round a room (until it had perfectly learned where all the obstacles stood), it would uniformly strike hard against them with its snout, and then turn. it appeared to me as singular, that a creature which fed upon living earth-worms with all the greediness of a pig, would not destroy the larvæ or maggots of the flesh-fly. a shrew-mole lived for many weeks in my study, and made use of a gun-case, into which he squeezed himself, as a burrow. frequently he would carry the meat he was fed with into his retreat; and, as it was warm weather, the flies deposited their eggs in the same place. an offensive odour led me to discover this circumstance, and i found a number of large larvæ, over which the shrew-mole passed without paying them any attention; nor would he, when hungry, accept of such food, though nothing could exceed the eager haste with which he seized and munched earth-worms. often, when engaged in observing him thus employed, have i thought of the stories told me, when a boy, of the manner in which snakes were destroyed by swine: his voracity readily exciting a recollection of one of these animals, and the poor worms writhing and twining about his jaws answering for the snakes. it would be tedious were i to relate all my rambles undertaken with a view to gain a proper acquaintance with this creature, at all hours of the day, and late in the evening, before day-light, etc. etc. among other objects which served as an unfailing source of amusement, when resting from the fatigue of my walks, was the little inhabitant of the brook which is spoken of in the extract made from the "journal of a naturalist," in last week's friend. these merry swimmers occupied every little sunny pool in the stream, apparently altogether engaged in sport. a circumstance (not adverted to in that extract) connected with these insects, gives them additional interest to a close observer--they are allied by their structure and nature to those nauseous vermin, the cimices, or _bed-bugs_; all of which, whether found infesting fruits or our dormitories, are distinguished by their disgusting odour. but their distant relatives, called by the boys the _water-witches_ and _apple-smellers_, the gyrinus natator above alluded to, has a delightful smell, exactly similar to that of the richest, mellowest apple. this peculiarly pleasant smell frequently causes the idler many unavailing efforts to secure some of these creatures, whose activity in water renders their pursuit very difficult, though by no means so much so as that of some of the long-legged water-spiders, which walk the waters dry-shod, and evade the grasp with surprising ease and celerity. what purposes either of these races serve in the great economy of nature, has not yet been ascertained, and will scarcely be determined until our store of _facts_ is far more extensive than at present. other and still more remarkable inhabitants of the brook, at the same time, came within my notice, and afforded much gratification in the observation of their habits. the description of these we are obliged to defer for the present, as we have already occupied as much space as can be allowed to our humble sketches. john. no. iii. in moving along the borders of the stream, we may observe, where the sand or mud is fine and settled, a sort of mark or cutting, as if an edged instrument had been drawn along, so as to leave behind it a track or groove. at one end of this line, by digging a little into the mud with the hand, you will generally discover a shell of considerable size, which is tenanted by a molluscous animal of singular construction. on some occasions, when the mud is washed off from the shell, you will be delighted to observe the beautifully regular dark lines with which its greenish smooth surface is marked. other species are found in the same situations, which, externally, are rough and inelegant, but within are ornamented to a most admirable degree, presenting a smooth surface of the richest pink, crimson, or purple, to which we have nothing of equal elegance to compare it. if the mere shells of these creatures be thus splendid, what shall we say of their internal structure, which, when examined by the microscope, offers a succession of wonders? the beautiful apparatus for respiration, formed of a network regularly arranged, of the most exquisitely delicate texture; the foot, or organ by which the shell is moved forward through the mud or water, composed of an expanded spongy extremity, capable of assuming various figures to suit particular purposes, and governed by several strong muscles, that move it in different directions; the ovaries, filled with myriads, not of eggs, but of perfect shells, or complete little animals, which, though not larger than the point of a fine needle, yet, when examined by the microscope, exhibit all the peculiarities of conformation that belong to the parent; the mouth, embraced by the nervous ganglion, which may be considered as the animal's brain; the stomach, surrounded by the various processes of the liver, and the strongly acting but transparent heart, all excite admiration and gratify our curiosity. the puzzling question often presents itself to the inquirer: why so much elaborateness of construction and such exquisite ornament as are common to most of these creatures, should be bestowed? destined to pass their lives in and under the mud, possessed of no sense that we are acquainted with, except that of touch, what purpose can ornament serve in them? however much of vanity there may be in asking the question, there is no answer to be offered. we cannot suppose that the individuals have any power of admiring each other, and we know that the foot is the only part they protrude from their shell, and that the inside of the shell is covered by the membrane called the mantle. similar remarks may be made relative to conchology at large: the most exquisitely beautiful forms, colours, and ornaments are lavished upon genera and species which exist only at immense depths in the ocean, or buried in the mud; nor can any one form a satisfactory idea of the object the great author of nature had in view, in thus profusely beautifying creatures occupying so low a place in the scale of creation. european naturalists have hitherto fallen into the strangest absurdities concerning the motion of the bivalved shells, which five minutes' observation of nature would have served them to correct. thus, they describe the upper part of the shell as the _lower_, and the _hind_ part as the front, and speak of them as moving along on their rounded convex surface, like a boat on its keel, instead of advancing with the edges or open part of the shell towards the earth. all these mistakes have been corrected, and the true mode of progression indicated from actual observation, by our fellow-citizen, isaac lea, whose recently published communications to the american philosophical society reflect the highest credit upon their author, who is a naturalist in the best sense of the term. as i wandered slowly along the borders of the run, towards a little wood, my attention was caught by a considerable collection of shells lying near an old stump. many of these appeared to have been recently emptied of their contents, and others seemed to have long remained exposed to the weather. on most of them, at the thinnest part of the edge, a peculiar kind of fracture was obvious, and this seemed to be the work of an animal. a closer examination of the locality showed the footsteps of a quadruped, which i readily believed to be the muskrat, more especially as, upon examining the adjacent banks, numerous traces of burrows were discoverable. it is not a little singular that this animal, unlike all others of the larger gnawers, as the beaver, etc. appears to increase instead of diminishing with the increase of population. whether it is that the dams and other works thrown up by men afford more favourable situations for their multiplication, or their favourite food is found in greater abundance, they certainly are quite as numerous now, if not more so, than when the country was first discovered, and are to be found at this time almost within the limits of the city. by the construction of their teeth, as well as all the parts of the body, they are closely allied to the rat kind; though in size, and some peculiarities of habit, they more closely approximate the beaver. they resemble the rat, especially, in not being exclusively herbivorous, as is shown by their feeding on the uniones or muscles above mentioned. to obtain this food requires no small exertion of their strength; and they accomplish it by introducing the claws of their fore-paws between the two edges of the shell, and tearing it open by main force. whoever has tried to force open one of these shells, containing a living animal, may form an idea of the effort made by the muskrat: the strength of a strong man would be requisite to produce the same result in the same way. the burrows of muskrats are very extensive, and consequently injurious to dykes and dams, meadow banks, etc. the entrance is always under water, and thence sloping upwards above the level of the water, so that the muskrat has to dive in going in and out. these creatures are excellent divers and swimmers, and, being nocturnal, are rarely seen unless by those who watch for them at night. sometimes we alarm one near the mouth of the den, and he darts away across the water, near the bottom, marking his course by a turbid streak in the stream: occasionally we are made aware of the passage of one to some distance down the current, in the same way; but in both cases the action is so rapidly performed, that we should scarcely imagine what was the cause, if not previously informed. except by burrowing into and spoiling the banks, they are not productive of much evil, their food consisting principally of the roots of aquatic plants, in addition to the shell-fish. the musky odour which gives rise to their common name is caused by glandular organs placed near the tail, filled with a viscid and powerfully musky fluid, whose uses we know but little of, though it is thought to be intended as a guide by which these creatures may discover each other. this inference is strengthened by finding some such contrivance in different races of animals, in various modifications. a great number carry it in pouches similar to those just mentioned. some, as the musk animal, have the pouch under the belly; the shrew has the glands on the side; the camel on the back of the neck; the crocodile under the throat, etc. at least no other use has ever been assigned for this apparatus, and in all creatures possessing it the arrangement seems to be adapted peculiarly to the habits of the animals. the crocodile, for instance, generally approaches the shore in such a manner as to apply the neck and throat to the soil, while the hinder part of the body is under water. the glands under the throat leave the traces of his presence, therefore, with ease, as they come into contact with the shore. the glandular apparatus on the back of the neck of the male camel, seems to have reference to the general elevation of the olfactory organs of the female; and the dorsal gland of the peccary, no doubt, has some similar relation to the peculiarities of the race. the value of the fur of the muskrat causes many of them to be destroyed, which is easily enough effected by means of a trap. this is a simple box, formed of rough boards nailed together, about three feet long, having an iron door, made of pointed bars, opening _inwards_, at both ends of the box. this trap is placed with the end opposite to the entrance of a burrow observed during the day-time. in the night, when the muskrat sallies forth, he enters the box, instead of passing into the open air, and is drowned, as the box is quite filled with water. if the traps be visited and emptied during the night, two may be caught in each trap, as muskrats from other burrows may come to visit those where the traps are placed, and thus one be taken going in as well as one coming out. these animals are frequently very fat, and their flesh has a very wholesome appearance, and would probably prove good food. the musky odour, however, prejudices strongly against its use; and it is probable that the flesh is rank, as the muscles it feeds on are nauseous and bitter, and the roots which supply the rest of its food are generally unpleasant and acrid. still, we should not hesitate to partake of its flesh, in case of necessity, especially if of a young animal, from which the musk-bag had been removed immediately after it was killed. in this vicinity the muskrat does not build himself a house for the winter, as our fields and dykes are too often visited. but in other parts of the country, where extensive marshes exist, and muskrats are abundant, they build very snug and substantial houses, quite as serviceable and ingenious as those of the beaver. they do not dam the water as the beaver, nor cut branches of trees to serve for the walls of their dwellings. they make it of mud and rushes, raising a cone two or three feet high, having the entrance on the south side, under water. about the year , i saw several of them in worrell's marsh, near chestertown, maryland, which were pointed out to me by an old black man who made his living principally by trapping these animals for the sake of their skins. a few years since i visited the marshes near the mouth of magerthy river, in maryland, where i was informed, by a resident, that the muskrats still built regularly every winter. perhaps these quadrupeds are as numerous in the vicinity of philadelphia as elsewhere, as i have never examined a stream of fresh water, dyked meadow, or mill-dam, hereabout, without seeing traces of vast numbers. along all the water-courses and meadows in jersey, opposite philadelphia, and in the meadows of the neck, below the navy-yard, there must be large numbers of muskrats. considering the value of the fur, and the ease and trifling expense at which they might be caught, we have often felt surprised that more of them are not taken, especially as we have so many poor men complaining of wanting something to do. by thinning the number of muskrats, a positive benefit would be conferred on the farmers and furriers, to say nothing of the profits to the individual. john. no. iv. my next visit to my old hunting-ground, the lane and brook, happened on a day in the first hay-harvest, when the verdant sward of the meadows was rapidly sinking before the keen-edged scythes swung by vigorous mowers. this unexpected circumstance afforded me considerable pleasure, for it promised me a freer scope to my wanderings, and might also enable me to ascertain various particulars concerning which my curiosity had long been awakened. nor was this promise unattended by fruition of my wishes. the reader may recollect that, in my first walk, a neat burrow in the grass, above ground, was observed, without my knowing its author. the advance of the mowers explained this satisfactorily, for in cutting the long grass, they exposed several nests of field-mice, which, by means of these grass-covered alleys, passed to the stream in search of food or drink, unseen by their enemies, the hawks and owls. the numbers of these little creatures were truly surprising: their fecundity is so great, and their food so abundant, that, were they not preyed upon by many other animals, and destroyed in great numbers by man, they would become exceedingly troublesome. there are various species of them, all bearing a very considerable resemblance to each other, and having, to an incidental observer, much of the appearance of the domestic mouse. slight attention, however, is requisite to perceive very striking differences, and the discrimination of these will prove a source of considerable gratification to the inquirer. the nests are very nicely made, and look much like a bird's nest, being lined with soft materials, and usually placed in some snug little hollow, or at the root of a strong tuft of grass. upon the grass roots and seeds these nibblers principally feed; and, where very abundant, the effects of their hunger may be seen in the brown and withered aspect of the grass they have injured at the root. but, under ordinary circumstances, the hawks, owls, domestic cat, weasels, crows, etc. keep them in such limits, as prevent them from doing essential damage. i had just observed another and a smaller grassy covered way, where the mowers had passed along, when my attention was called towards a wagon at a short distance, which was receiving its load. shouts and laughter, accompanied by a general running and scrambling of the people, indicated that some rare sport was going forward. when i approached, i found that the object of chase was a jumping mouse, whose actions it was truly delightful to witness. when not closely pressed by its pursuers, it ran with some rapidity, in the usual manner, as if seeking concealment. but in a moment it would vault into the air, and skim along for ten or twelve feet, looking more like a bird than a little quadruped. after continuing this for some time, and nearly exhausting its pursuers with running and falling over each other, the frightened creature was accidentally struck down by one of the workmen, during one of its beautiful leaps, and killed. as the hunters saw nothing worthy of attention in the dead body of the animal, they very willingly resigned it to me; and with great satisfaction i retreated to a willow shade, to read what nature had written in its form for my instruction. the general appearance was mouse-like; but the length and slenderness of the body, the shortness of its fore-limbs, and the disproportionate length of its hind-limbs, together with the peculiarity of its tail, all indicated its adaptation to the peculiar kind of action i had just witnessed. a sight of this little creature vaulting or bounding through the air, strongly reminded me of what i had read of the great kangaroo of new holland; and i could not help regarding our little jumper as in some respects a sort of miniature resemblance of that curious animal. it was not evident, however, that the jumping mouse derived the aid from its tail, which so powerfully assists the kangaroo. though long, and sufficiently stout in proportion, it had none of the robust muscularity which, in the new holland animal, impels the lower part of the body immediately upward. in this mouse, the leap is principally, if not entirely, effected by a sudden and violent extension of the long hind-limbs, the muscles of which are strong, and admirably suited to their object. we have heard that these little animals feed on the roots, etc. of the green herbage, and that they are every season to be found in the meadows. it may perhaps puzzle some to imagine how they subsist through the severities of winter, when vegetation is at rest, and the earth generally frozen. here we find another occasion to admire the all-perfect designs of the awful author of nature, who has endowed a great number of animals with the faculty of retiring into the earth, and passing whole months in a state of repose so complete, as to allow all the functions of the body to be suspended, until the returning warmth of the spring calls them forth to renewed activity and enjoyment. the jumping mouse, when the chill weather begins to draw nigh, digs down about six or eight inches into the soil, and there forms a little globular cell, as much larger than his own body as will allow a sufficient covering of fine grass to be introduced. this being obtained, he contrives to coil up his body and limbs in the centre of the soft dry grass, so as to form a complete ball; and so compact is this, that, when taken out with the torpid animal, it may be rolled across a floor without injury. in this snug cell, which is soon filled up and closed externally, the jumping mouse securely abides through all the frosts and storms of winter, needing neither food nor fuel, being utterly quiescent, and apparently dead, though susceptible at any time of reanimation, by being very gradually stimulated by light and heat. the little burrow under examination, when called to observe the jumping mouse, proved to be made by the merry musicians of the meadows, the field-crickets, _acheta campestris_. these lively black crickets are very numerous, and contribute very largely to that general song which is so delightful to the ear of the true lover of nature, as it rises on the air from myriads of happy creatures rejoicing amid the bounties conferred on them by providence. it is not _a voice_ that the crickets utter, but a regular vibration of musical chords, produced by nibbing the nervures of the elytra against a sort of network intended to produce the vibrations. the reader will find an excellent description of the apparatus in kirby and spence's book, but he may enjoy a much more satisfactory comprehension of the whole, by visiting the field-cricket in his summer residence, see him tuning his viol, and awakening the echoes with his music. by such an examination as may be there obtained, he may derive more knowledge than by frequent perusal of the most eloquent writings, and perhaps observe circumstances which the learned authors are utterly ignorant of. among the great variety of burrows formed in the grass, or under the surface of the soil, by various animals and insects, there is one that i have often anxiously and, as yet, fruitlessly explored. this burrow is formed by the smallest quadruped animal known to man, the minute _shrew_, which, when full grown, rarely exceeds the weight of _thirty-six grains_. i had seen specimens of this very interesting creature in the museum, and had been taught, by a more experienced friend, to distinguish its burrow, which i have often perseveringly traced, with the hope of finding the living animal, but in vain. on one occasion, i patiently pursued a burrow nearly round a large barn, opening it all the way. i followed it under the barn floor, which was sufficiently high to allow me to crawl beneath. there i traced it about to a tiresome extent, and was at length rewarded by discovering where it terminated, under a foundation-stone, perfectly safe from my attempts. most probably a whole family of them were then present, and i had my labour for my pains. as these little creatures are nocturnal, and are rarely seen, from the nature of the places they frequent, the most probable mode of taking them alive would be, by placing a small mouse-trap in their way, baited with a little tainted or slightly spoiled meat. if a common mouse-trap be used, it is necessary to work it over with additional wire, as this shrew could pass between the bars even of a close mouse-trap. they are sometimes killed by cats, and thus obtained, as the cat never eats them, perhaps on account of their rank smell, owing to a peculiar glandular apparatus on each side, that pours out a powerfully odorous greasy substance. the species of the shrew genus are not all so exceedingly diminutive, as some of them are even larger than a common mouse. they have their teeth coloured at the tips in a remarkable manner; it is generally of a pitchy brown, or dark chestnut hue, and, like the colouring of the teeth in the beaver and other animals, is owing to the enamel being thus formed, and not to any mere accident of diet. the shrews are most common about stables and cow-houses; and there, should i ever take the field again, my traps shall be set, as my desire to have one of these little quadrupeds is still as great as ever. john. no. v. hitherto my rambles have been confined to the neighbourhood of a single spot, with a view of showing how perfectly accessible to all, are numerous and various interesting natural objects. this habit of observing in the manner indicated, began many years anterior to my visit to the spots heretofore mentioned, and have extended through many parts of our own and another country. henceforward my observations shall be presented without reference to particular places, or even of one place exclusively, but with a view to illustrate whatever may be the subject of description, by giving all i have observed of it under various circumstances. a certain time of my life was spent in that part of anne arundel county, md. which is washed by the river patapsco on the north, the great chesapeake bay on the west, and the severn river on the south. it is in every direction cut up by creeks, or arms of the rivers and bay, into long, flat strips of land, called necks, the greater part of which is covered by dense pine-forests, or thickets of small shrubs and saplings, rendered impervious to human footsteps by the growth of vines, whose inextricable mazes nothing but a fox, wild-cat, or weasel could thread. the soil cleared for cultivation is very generally poor, light, and sandy, though readily susceptible of improvement, and yielding a considerable produce in indian corn and most of the early garden vegetables, by the raising of which for the baltimore market the inhabitants obtain all their ready money. the blight of slavery has long extended its influence over this region, where all its usual effects are but too obviously visible. the white inhabitants are few in number, widely distant from each other; and manifest, in their mismanagement and half-indigent circumstances, how trifling an advantage they derive from the thraldom of their dozen or more of sturdy blacks, of different sexes and ages. the number of marshes formed at the heads of the creeks, render this country frightfully unhealthy in autumn, at which time the life of a resident physician is one of incessant toil and severe privation. riding from morning till night, to get round to visit a few patients, his road leads generally through pine-forests, whose aged and lofty trees, encircled by a dense undergrowth, impart an air of sombre and unbroken solitude. rarely or never does he encounter a white person on his way, and only once in a while will he see a miserably tattered negro, seated on a sack of corn, carried by a starveling horse or mule, which seems poorly able to bear the weight to the nearest mill. the red-head wood-pecker and the flicker, or yellow-hammer, a kindred species, occasionally glance across his path; sometimes, when he turns his horse to drink at the dark-coloured branch (as such streams are locally called), he disturbs a solitary rufous-thrush engaged in washing its plumes; or, as he moves steadily along, he is slightly startled by a sudden appearance of the towhé bunting close to the side of the path. except these creatures, and these by no means frequently seen, he rarely meets with animated objects: at a distance the harsh voice of the crow is often heard, or flocks of them are observed in the cleared fields, while now and then the buzzard, or turkey-vulture, may be seen wheeling in graceful circles in the higher regions of the air, sustained by his broadly-expanded wings, which apparently remain in a state of permanent and motionless extension. at other seasons of the year, the physician must be content to live in the most positive seclusion: the white people are all busily employed in going to and from market, and even were they at home, they are poorly suited for companionship. i here spent month after month, and, except the patients i visited, saw no one but the blacks: the house in which i boarded was kept by a widower, who, with myself, was the only white man within the distance of a mile or two. my only compensation was this--the house was pleasantly situated on the bank of curtis's creek, a considerable arm of the patapsco, which extended for a mile or two beyond us, and immediately in front of the door expanded so as to form a beautiful little bay. of books i possessed very few, and those exclusively professional; but in this beautiful expanse of sparkling water, i had a book opened before me which a life-time would scarcely suffice me to read through. with the advantage of a small but neatly made and easily manageable skiff, i was always independent of the service of the blacks, which was ever repugnant to my feelings and principles. i could convey myself in whatever direction objects of inquiry might present, and as my little bark was visible for a mile in either direction from the house, a handkerchief waved, or the loud shout of a negro, was sufficient to recall me, in case my services were required. during the spring months, and while the garden vegetables are yet too young to need a great deal of attention, the proprietors frequently employ their blacks in hauling the seine; and this in these creeks is productive of an ample supply of yellow perch, which affords a very valuable addition to the diet of all. the blacks in an especial manner profit by this period of plenty, since they are permitted to eat of them without restraint, which cannot be said of any other sort of provision allowed them. even the pigs and crows obtain their share of the abundance, as the fishermen, after picking out the best fish, throw the smaller ones on the beach. but as the summer months approach, the aquatic grass begins to grow, and this fishing can no longer be continued, because the grass rolls the seine up in a wisp, so that it can contain nothing. at this time the spawning season of the different species of sun-fish begins, and to me this was a time of much gratification. along the edge of the river, where the depth of water was not greater than from four feet to as shallow as twelve inches, an observer would discover a succession of circular spots cleared of the surrounding grass, and showing a clear sandy bed. these spots, or cleared spaces, we may regard as the nest of this beautiful fish. there, balanced in the transparent wave, at the distance of six or eight inches from the bottom, the sun-fish is suspended in the glittering sunshine, gently swaying its beautiful tail and fins; or, wheeling around in the limits of its little circle, appears to be engaged in keeping it clear of all incumbrances. here the mother deposits her eggs or spawn, and never did hen guard her callow brood with more eager vigilance, than the sun-fish the little circle within which her promised offspring are deposited. if another individual approach too closely to her borders, with a fierce and angry air she darts against it, and forces it to retreat. should any small and not too heavy object be dropped in the nest, it is examined with jealous attention, and displaced if the owner be not satisfied of its harmlessness. at the approach of man she flies with great velocity into deep water, as if willing to conceal that her presence was more than accidental where first seen. she may, after a few minutes, be seen cautiously venturing to return, which is at length done with volocity; then she would take a hurried turn or two around, and scud back again to the shady bowers formed by the river grass, which grows up from the bottom to within a few feet of the surface, and attains to twelve, fifteen, or more feet in length. again she ventures forth from the depths; and, if no farther cause of fear presented, would gently sail into the placid circle of her home, and with obvious satisfaction explore it in every part. besides the absolute pleasure i derived from visiting the habitations of these glittering tenants of the river, hanging over them from my little skiff, and watching their every action, they frequently furnished me with a very acceptable addition to my frugal table. situated as my boarding-house was, and all the inmates of the house busily occupied in raising vegetables to be sent to market, our bill of fare offered little other change than could be produced by varying the mode of cookery. it was either broiled bacon and potatoes, or fried bacon and potatoes, or cold bacon and potatoes, and so on at least six days out of seven. but, as soon as i became acquainted with the habits of the sun-fish, i procured a neat circular iron hoop for a net, secured to it a piece of an old seine, and whenever i desired to dine on _fresh_ fish, it was only necessary to take my skiff, and push her gently along from one sun-fish nest to another, myriads of which might be seen along all the shore. the fish, of course, darted off as soon as the boat first drew near, and during this absence the net was placed so as to cover the nest, of the bottom of which the meshes but slightly intercepted the view. finding all things quiet, and not being disturbed by the net, the fish would resume its central station, the net was suddenly raised, and the captive placed in the boat. in a quarter of an hour, i could generally take as many in this way as would serve two men for dinner; and when an acquaintance accidentally called to see me, during the season of sun-fish, it was always in my power to lessen our dependence on the endless bacon. i could also always select the finest and largest of these fish, as, while standing up in the boat, one could see a considerable number at once, and thus choose the best. such was their abundance, that the next day would find all the nests reoccupied. another circumstance connected with this matter gave me no small satisfaction: the poor blacks, who could rarely get time for angling, soon learned how to use my net with dexterity; and thus, in the ordinary time allowed them for dinner, would borrow it, run down to the shore, and catch some fish to add to their very moderate allowance. john. no. vi. after the sun-fish, as regular annual visitants of the small rivers and creeks containing salt or brackish water, came the crabs, in vast abundance, though for a very different purpose. these singularly-constructed and interesting beings furnished me with another excellent subject for observation; and, during the period of their visitation, my skiff was in daily requisition. floating along with an almost imperceptible motion, a person looking from the shore might have supposed her entirely adrift; for, as i was stretched at full length across the seats, in order to bring my sight as close to the water as possible without inconvenience, no one would have observed my presence from a little distance. the crabs belong to a very extensive tribe of beings which carry their _skeletons_ on the _outside_ of their bodies, instead of within; and, of necessity, the fleshy, muscular, or moving power of the body is placed in a situation the reverse of what occurs in animals of a higher order, which have internal skeletons or solid frames to their systems. this peculiarity of the crustaceous animals, and various other beings, is attended with one apparent inconvenience--when they have grown large enough to fill their shell or skeleton completely, they cannot grow farther, because the skeleton, being external, is incapable of enlargement. to obviate this difficulty, the author of nature has endowed them with the power of casting off the entire shell, increasing in size, and forming another equally hard and perfect, for several seasons successively, until the greatest or maximum size is attained, when the change or sloughing ceases to be necessary, though it is not always discontinued on that account. to undergo this change with greater ease and security, the crabs seek retired and peaceful waters, such as the beautiful creek i have been speaking of, whose clear, sandy shores are rarely disturbed by waves causing more than a pleasing murmur, and where the number of enemies must be far less, in proportion, than in the boisterous waters of the chesapeake, their great place of concourse. from the first day of their arrival, in the latter part of june, until the time of their departure, which in this creek occurred towards the first of august, it was astonishing to witness the vast multitudes which flocked towards the head of the stream. it is not until they have been for some time in the creek, that the moult or sloughing generally commences. they may be then observed gradually coming closer in shore, to where the sand is fine, fairly exposed to the sun, and a short distance farther out than the lowest water-mark, as they must always have at least a depth of three or four inches water upon them. the individual having selected his place, becomes perfectly quiescent, and no change is observed, during some hours, but a sort of swelling along the edges of the great upper shell at its back part. after a time, this posterior edge of the shell becomes fairly disengaged, like the lid of a chest, and now the more difficult work of withdrawing the great claws from their cases, which every one recollects to be vastly larger at their extremities and between the joints than the joints themselves. a still greater apparent difficulty presents in the shedding of the sort of tendon which is placed within the muscles. nevertheless, the author of nature has adapted them to the accomplishment of all this. the disproportionate sized claws undergo a peculiar softening, which enables the crab, by a very steadily continued, scarcely perceptible effort, to pull them out of their shells, and the business is completed by the separation of the complex parts about the mouth and eyes. the crab now slips out from the slough, settling near it on the sand. it is now covered by a soft, perfectly flexible skin; and, though possessing precisely the same form as before, seems incapable of the slightest exertion. notwithstanding that such is its condition, while you are gazing on this helpless creature, it is sinking in the fine loose sand, and in a short time is covered up sufficiently to escape the observation of careless or inexperienced observers. neither can one say how this is effected, although it occurs under their immediate observation; the motions employed to produce the displacement of the sand are too slight to be appreciated, though it is most probably owing to a gradual lateral motion of the body, by which the sand is displaced in the centre beneath, and thus gradually forced up at the sides until it falls over and covers the crab. examine him within twelve hours, and you will find the skin becoming about as hard as fine writing-paper, producing a similar crackling if compressed; twelve hours later, the shell is sufficiently stiffened to require some slight force to bend it, and the crab is said to be in _buckram_, as in the first stage it was in _paper_. it is still helpless, and offers no resistance; but, at the end of thirty-six hours, it shows that its natural instincts are in action, and, by the time forty-eight hours have elapsed, the crab is restored to the exercise of all his functions. i have stated the above as the periods in which the stages of the moult are accomplished, but i have often observed that the rapidity of this process is very much dependent upon the temperature, and especially upon sunshine. a cold, cloudy, raw, and disagreeable spell happening at this period, though by no means common, will retard the operation considerably, protracting the period of helplessness. this is the harvest season of the white fisherman and of the poor slave. the laziest of the former are now in full activity, wading along the shore from morning till night, dragging a small boat after them, and holding in the other hand a forked stick, with which they raise the crabs from the sand. the period during which the crabs remain in the paper state is so short, that great activity is required to gather a sufficient number to take to market, but the price at which they are sold is sufficient to awaken all the cupidity of the crabbers. two dollars a dozen is by no means an uncommon price for them, when the season first comes on: they subsequently come down to a dollar, and even to fifty cents, at any of which rates the trouble of collecting them is well paid. the slaves search for them at night, and then are obliged to kindle a fire of pine-knots on the bow of the boat, which strongly illuminates the surrounding water, and enables them to discover the crabs. soft crabs are, with great propriety, regarded as an exquisite treat by those who are fond of such eating; and though many persons are unable to use crabs or lobsters in any form, there are few who taste of the soft crabs without being willing to recur to them. as an article of luxury, they are scarcely known north of the chesapeake, though there is nothing to prevent them from being used to a considerable extent in philadelphia, especially since the opening of the chesapeake and delaware canal. during the last summer, i had the finest soft crabs from baltimore. they arrived at the market in the afternoon, were fried according to rule, and placed in a tin butter-kettle, then covered for an inch or two with melted lard, and put on board the steam-boat which left baltimore at five o'clock the same afternoon. the next morning before ten o'clock they were in philadelphia, and at one they were served up at dinner in germantown. the only difficulty in the way is that of having persons to attend to their procuring and transmission, as, when cooked directly after they arrive at market, and forwarded with as little delay as above mentioned, there is no danger of their being the least injured. at other seasons, when the crabs did not come close to the shore, i derived much amusement by taking them in the deep water. this is always easily effected by the aid of proper bait: a leg of chicken, piece of any raw meat, or a salted or spoiled herring, tied to a twine string of sufficient length, and a hand net of convenient size, is all that is necessary. you throw out your line and bait, or you fix as many lines to your boat as you please, and in a short time you see, by the straightening of the line, that the bait has been seized by a crab, who is trying to make off with it. you then place your net where it can conveniently be picked up, and commence steadily but gently to draw in your line, until you have brought the crab sufficiently near the surface to distinguish him: if you draw him nearer, he will see you, and immediately let go; otherwise, his greediness and voracity will make him cling to his prey to the last. holding the line in the left hand, you now dip your net edge foremost into the water at some distance from the line, carry it down perpendicularly until it is five or six inches lower than the crab, and then with a sudden turn bring it directly before him, and lift up at the same time. your prize is generally secured, if your net be at all properly placed; for, as soon as he is alarmed, he pushes directly downwards, and is received in the bag of the net. it is better to have a little water in the bottom of the boat, to throw them into, as they are easier emptied out of the net, always letting go when held over the water. this a good crabber never forgets, and should he unluckily be seized by a large crab, he holds him over the water, and is freed at once, though he loses his game. when not held over the water, they bite sometimes with dreadful obstinacy; and i have seen it necessary to crush the forceps or claws before one could be induced to let go the fingers of a boy. a poor black fellow also placed himself in an awkward situation--the crab seized him by a finger of his right hand, but he was unwilling to lose his captive by holding him over the water; instead of which, he attempted to secure the other claw with his left hand, while he tried to crush the biting claw between his teeth. in doing this, he somehow relaxed his left hand, and with the other claw the crab seized poor jem by his under lip, which was by no means a thin one, and forced him to roar with pain. with some difficulty he was freed from his tormentor, but it was several days before he ceased to excite laughter, as the severe bite was followed by a swelling of the lip, which imparted a most ludicrous expression to a naturally comical countenance. john. no. vii. on the first arrival of the crabs, when they throng the shoals of the creeks in vast crowds, as heretofore mentioned, a very summary way of taking them is resorted to by the country people, and for a purpose that few would suspect, without having witnessed it. they use a three-pronged fork or gig, made for this sport, attached to a long handle; the crabber, standing up in the skiff, pushes it along until he is over a large collection of crabs, and then strikes his spear among them. by this several are transfixed at once, and lifted into the boat, and the operation is repeated until enough have been taken. the purpose to which they are to be applied is to feed the hogs, which very soon learn to collect in waiting upon the beach, when the crab spearing is going on. although these bristly gentry appear to devour almost all sorts of food with great relish, it seemed to me that they regarded the crabs as a most luxurious banquet; and it was truly amusing to see the grunters, when the crabs were thrown on shore for them, and were scampering off in various directions, seizing them in spite of their threatening claws, holding them down with one foot, and speedily reducing them to a state of helplessness by breaking off their forceps. such a crunching and cracking of the unfortunate crabs i never have witnessed since; and i might have commiserated them more, had not i known that death in some form or other was continually awaiting them, and that their devourers were all destined to meet their fate in a few months in the stye, and thence through the smoke-house to be placed upon our table. on the shores of the chesapeake i have caught crabs in a way commonly employed by all those who are unprovided with boats and nets. this is to have a forked stick and a baited line, with which the crabber wades out as far as he thinks fit, and then throws out his line. as soon as he finds he has a bite, he draws the line in, cautiously lifting but a very little from the bottom. as soon as it is near enough to be fairly in reach, he quickly, yet with as little movement as possible, secures the crab by placing the forked stick across his body, and pressing him against the sand. he must then stoop down and take hold of the crab by the two posterior swimming legs, so as to avoid being seized by the claws. should he not wish to carry each crab ashore as he catches it, he pinions or _spansels_ (as the fishermen call it) them. this is a very effectual mode of disabling them from using their biting claws, yet it is certainly not the most humane operation: it is done by taking the first of the sharp-pointed feet of each side, and forcing it in for the length of the joint behind the moveable joint or thumb of the opposite biting claw. the crabs are then strung upon a string or wythe, and allowed to hang in the water until the crabber desists from his occupations. in the previous article, crabs were spoken of as curious and interesting, and the reader may not consider the particulars thus far given as being particularly so. perhaps, when he takes them altogether, he will agree that they have as much that is curious about their construction as almost any animal we have mentioned, and in the interesting details we have as yet made but a single step. the circumstance of the external skeleton has been mentioned; but who would expect an animal as low in the scale as a crab, to be furnished with ten or twelve pair of jaws to its mouth? yet such is the fact; and all these variously-constructed pieces are provided with appropriate muscles, and move in a manner which can scarcely be explained, though it may be very readily comprehended when once observed in living nature. but, after all the complexity of the jaws, where would an inexperienced person look for their teeth?--surely not in the stomach?--nevertheless, such is their situation; and these are not mere appendages, that are called teeth by courtesy, but stout, regular grinding teeth, with a light brown surface. they are not only within the stomach, but fixed to a cartilage nearest to its lower extremity, so that the food, unlike that of other creatures, is submitted to the action of the teeth as it is passing _from_ the stomach, instead of being chewed before it is swallowed. in some species the teeth are five in number; but throughout this class of animals the same general principle of construction may be observed. crabs and their kindred have no brain, because they are not required to reason upon what they observe: they have a nervous system excellently suited to their mode of life, and its knots or ganglia send out nerves to the organs of sense, digestion, motion, etc. the senses of these beings are very acute, especially their sight, hearing, and smell. most of my readers have heard of crabs' eyes, or have seen these organs in the animal on the end of two little projecting knobs, above and on each side of the mouth: few of them, however, have seen the crab's ear; yet it is very easily found, and is a little triangular bump placed near the base of the feelers. this bump has a membrane stretched over it, and communicates with a small cavity, which is the internal ear. the _organ_ of smell is not so easily demonstrated as that of hearing, though the evidence of their possessing the sense to an acute degree is readily attainable. a german naturalist inferred, from the fact of the nerve corresponding to the olfactory nerve in man being distributed to the antennæ, in insects, that the antennæ were the organs of smell in them. cuvier and others suggest that a similar arrangement may exist in the crustacea. to satisfy myself whether it was so or not, i lately dissected a small lobster, and was delighted to find that the first pair of nerves actually went to the antennæ, and gave positive support to the opinion mentioned. i state this, not to claim credit for ascertaining the truth or inaccuracies of a suggestion, but with a view of inviting the reader to do the same in all cases of doubt. where it is possible to refer to _nature_ for the actual condition of facts, learned _authorities_ give me no uneasiness. if i find that the structure bears out their opinions, it is more satisfactory; when it convicts them of absurdity, it saves much fruitless reading, as well as the trouble of shaking off prejudices. the first time my attention was called to the extreme acuteness of sight possessed by these animals, was during a walk along the flats of long island, reaching towards governor's island, in new york, a vast number of the small land-crabs, called fiddlers by the boys (_gecarcinus_), occupy burrows or caves dug in the marshy soil, whence they come out and go for some distance, either in search of food or to sun themselves. long before i approached close enough to see their forms with distinctness, they were scampering towards their holes, into which they plunged with a tolerable certainty of escape--these retreats being of considerable depth, and often communicating with each other, as well as nearly filled with water. on endeavouring cautiously to approach some others, it was quite amusing to observe their vigilance--to see them slowly change position, and, from lying extended in the sun, beginning to gather themselves up for a start, should it prove necessary: at length standing up, as it were, on tiptoe, and raising their pedunculated eyes as high as possible. one quick step on the part of the individual approaching was enough--away they would go, with a celerity which must appear surprising to any one who had not previously witnessed it. what is more remarkable, they possess the power of moving equally well with any part of the body foremost; so that, when endeavouring to escape, they will suddenly dart off to one side or the other, without turning round, and thus elude pursuit. my observations upon the crustaceous animals have extended through many years, and in very various situations; and for the sake of making the general view of their qualities more satisfactory, i will go on to state what i remarked of some of the genera and species in the west indies, where they are exceedingly numerous and various. the greater proportion of the genera feed on animal matter, especially after decomposition has begun: a large number are exclusively confined to the deep waters, and approach the shoals and lands only during the spawning season. many live in the sea, but daily pass many hours upon the rocky shores for the pleasure of basking in the sun; others live in marshy or moist ground, at a considerable distance from the water, and feed principally on vegetable food, especially the sugar-cane, of which they are extremely destructive. others, again, reside habitually on the hills or mountains, and visit the sea only once a year, for the purpose of depositing their eggs in the sand. all those which reside in burrows made in moist ground, and those coming daily on the rocks to bask in the sun, participate in about an equal degree in the qualities of vigilance and swiftness. many a breathless race have i run in vain, attempting to intercept them, and prevent their escaping into the sea. many an hour of cautious and solicitous endeavour to steal upon them unobserved, has been frustrated by their long-sighted watchfulness; and several times, when, by extreme care and cunning approaches, i have actually succeeded in getting between a fine specimen and the sea, and had full hope of driving him farther inland, have all my anticipations been ruined by the wonderful swiftness of their flight, or the surprising facility with which they would dart off in the very opposite direction, at the very moment i felt almost sure of my prize. one day, in particular, i saw on a flat rock, which afforded a fine sunning place, the most beautiful crab i had ever beheld. it was of the largest size, and would have covered a large dinner-plate, most beautifully coloured with bright crimson below, and a variety of tints of blue, purple, and green above: it was just such a specimen as could not fail to excite all the solicitude of a collector to obtain. but it was not in the least deficient in the art of self-preservation: my most careful manoeuvres proved ineffectual, and all my efforts only enabled me to see enough of it to augment my regrets to a high degree. subsequently, i saw a similar individual in the collection of a resident: this had been killed against the rocks during a violent hurricane, with very slight injury to its shell. i offered high rewards to the black people if they would bring me such a one, but the most expert among them seemed to think it an unpromising search, as they knew of no way of capturing them. if i had been supplied with some powder of nux vomica, with which to poison some meat, i _might_ have succeeded. john. no. viii. the fleet running crab (_cypoda pugilator_), mentioned as living in burrows dug in a moist soil, and preying chiefly on the sugar-cane, is justly regarded as one of the most noxious pests that can infest a plantation. their burrows extend to a great depth, and run in various directions; they are also, like those of our fiddlers, nearly full of muddy water, so that, when these marauders once plump into their dens, they may be considered as entirely beyond pursuit. their numbers are so great, and they multiply in such numbers, as in some seasons to destroy a large proportion of a sugar crop; and sometimes their ravages, combined with those of the rats and other plunderers, are absolutely ruinous to the sea-side planters. i was shown, by the superintendant of a place thus infested, a great quantity of cane utterly killed by these creatures, which cut it off in a peculiar manner, in order to suck the juice; and he assured me that, during that season, the crop would be two-thirds less than its average, solely owing to the inroads of the crabs and rats, which, if possible, are still more numerous. it was to me an irresistible source of amusement to observe the air of spite and vexation with which he spoke of the crabs: the rats he could shoot, poison, or drive off for a time with dogs. but the crabs would not eat his poison, while sugar-cane was growing; the dogs could only chase them into their holes; and if, in helpless irritation, he sometimes fired his gun at a cluster of them, the shot only rattled over their shells like hail against a window. it is truly desirable that some summary mode of lessening their number could be devised, and it is probable that this will be best effected by poison, as it may be possible to obtain a bait sufficiently attractive to ensnare them. species of this genus are found in various parts of our country, more especially towards the south. about cape may, our friends may have excellent opportunities of testing the truth of what is said of their swiftness and vigilance. the land-crab, which is common to many of the west india islands, is more generally known as the jamaica crab, because it has been most frequently described from observation in that island. wherever found, they have all the habit of living, during great part of the year, in the highlands, where they pass the day-time concealed in huts, cavities, and under stones, and come out at night for their food. they are remarkable for collecting in vast bodies, and marching annually to the sea-side, in order to deposit their eggs in the sand; and this accomplished, they return to their former abodes, if undisturbed. they commence their march in the night, and move in the most direct line towards the destined point. so obstinately do they pursue this route, that they will not turn out of it for any obstacle that can possibly be surmounted. during the day-time they skulk and lie hid as closely as possible, but thousands upon thousands of them are taken for the use of the table, by whites and blacks, as on their seaward march they are very fat, and of fine flavour. on the homeward journey, those that have escaped capture are weak, exhausted, and unfit for use. before dismissing the crabs, i must mention one which was a source of much annoyance to me at first, and of considerable interest afterwards, from the observation of its habits. at that time i resided in a house delightfully situated about two hundred yards from the sea, fronting the setting sun, having in clear weather the lofty mountains of porto rico, distant about eighty miles, in view. like most of the houses in the island, ours had seen better days, as was evident from various breaks in the floors, angles rotted off the doors, sunken sills, and other indications of decay. our sleeping room, which was on the lower floor, was especially in this condition; but as the weather was delightfully warm, a few cracks and openings, though rather large, did not threaten much inconvenience. our bed was provided with that indispensable accompaniment, a musquito bar or curtain, to which we were indebted for escape from various annoyances. scarcely had we extinguished the light, and composed ourselves to rest, when we heard, in various parts of the room, the most startling noises. it appeared as if numerous hard and heavy bodies were trailed along the floor; then they sounded as if climbing up by the chairs and other furniture, and frequently something like a large stone would tumble down from such elevations, with a loud noise, followed by a peculiar chirping noise. what an effect this produced upon entirely inexperienced strangers, may well be imagined by those who have been suddenly waked up in the dark, by some unaccountable noise in the room. finally, these invaders began to ascend the bed; but happily the musquito bar was securely tucked under the bed all around, and they were denied access, though their efforts and tumbles to the floor produced no very comfortable reflections. towards day-light they began to retire, and in the morning no trace of any such visitants could be perceived. on mentioning our troubles, we were told that this nocturnal disturber was only bernard the hermit, called generally the soldier-crab, perhaps from the peculiar habit he has of protecting his body by thrusting it into any empty shell, which he afterwards carries about until he outgrows it, when it is relinquished for a larger. not choosing to pass another night quite so noisily, due care was taken to exclude monsieur bernard, whose knockings were thenceforward confined to the outside of the house. i baited a large wire rat-trap with some corn-meal, and placed it outside of the back door, and in the morning found it literally half filled with these crabs, from the largest-sized shell that could enter the trap, down to such as were not larger than a hickory-nut. here was a fine collection made at once, affording a very considerable variety in the size and age of the specimens, and the different shells into which they had introduced themselves. the soldier or hermit-crab, when withdrawn from his adopted shell, presents, about the head and claws, a considerable family resemblance to the lobster. the claws, however, are very short and broad, and the body covered with hard shell only in that part which is liable to be exposed or protruded. the posterior or abdominal part of the body is covered only by a tough skin, and tapers towards a small extremity, furnished with a sort of hook-like apparatus, enabling it to hold on to its factitious dwelling. along the surface of its abdomen, as well as on the back, there are small projections, apparently intended for the same purpose. when once fairly in possession of a shell, it would be quite a difficult matter to pull the crab out, though a very little heat applied to the shell will quickly induce him to leave it. the shells they select are taken solely with reference to their suitableness, and hence you may catch a considerable number of the same species, each of which is in a different species or genus of shell. the shells commonly used by them, when of larger size, are those of the whilk, which are much used as an article of food by the islanders, or the smaller conch [strombus] shells. the very young hermit-crabs are found in almost every variety of small shell found on the shores of the antilles. i have frequently been amused by ladies eagerly engaged in making collections of these beautiful little shells, and not dreaming of their being tenanted by a living animal, suddenly startled, on displaying their acquisitions, by observing them to be actively endeavouring to escape; or, on introducing the hand into the reticule to produce a particularly fine specimen, to receive a smart pinch from the claws of the little hermit. the instant the shell is closely approached or touched, they withdraw as deeply into the shell as possible, and the small ones readily escape observation, but they soon become impatient of captivity, and try to make off. the species of this genus (_pagurus_) are very numerous, and during the first part of their lives are all aquatic; that is, they are hatched in the little pools about the margin of the sea, and remain there until those that are destined to live on land are stout enough to commence their travels. the hermit-crabs, which are altogether aquatic, are by no means so careful to choose the lightest and thinnest shells, as the land troops. the aquatic soldiers may be seen towing along shells of the most disproportionate size; but their relatives, who travel over the hills by moonlight, know that all unnecessary incumbrance of weight should be avoided. they are as pugnacious and spiteful as any of the crustaceous class; and when taken, or when they fall and jar themselves considerably, utter a chirping noise, which is evidently an angry expression. they are ever ready to bite with their claws, and the pinch of the larger individuals is quite painful. it is said that, when they are changing their shells, for the sake of obtaining more commodious coverings, they frequently fight for possession, which may be true where two that have forsaken their old shells meet, or happen to make choice of the same vacant one. it is also said, that one crab is sometimes forced to give up the shell he is in, should a stronger chance to desire it. this, as i never saw it, i must continue to doubt; for i cannot imagine how the stronger could possibly accomplish his purpose, seeing that the occupant has nothing to do but keep close quarters. the invader would have no chance of seizing him to pull him out, nor could he do him any injury by biting upon the surface of his hard claws, the only part that would be exposed. if it be true that one can dispossess the other, it must be by some contrivance of which we are still ignorant. these soldier-crabs feed on a great variety of substances, scarcely refusing anything that is edible: like the family they belong to, they have a decided partiality for putrid meats, and the planters accuse them also of too great a fondness for the sugar-cane. their excursions are altogether nocturnal: in the day-time they lie concealed very effectually in small holes, among stones, or any kind of rubbish, and are rarely taken notice of, even where hundreds are within a short distance of each other. the larger soldier-crabs are sometimes eaten by the blacks, but they are not much sought after even by them, as they are generally regarded with aversion and prejudice. there is no reason, that we are aware of, why they should not be as good as many other crabs, but they certainly are not equally esteemed. john. no. ix. those who have only lived in forest countries, where vast tracts are shaded by a dense growth of oak, ash, chestnut, hickory, and other trees of deciduous foliage, which present the most pleasing varieties of verdure and freshness, can have but little idea of the effect produced on the feelings by aged forests of pine, composed in a great degree of a single species, whose towering summits are crowned with one dark green canopy, which successive seasons find unchanged, and nothing but death causes to vary. their robust and gigantic trunks rise an hundred or more feet high, in purely proportioned columns, before the limbs begin to diverge; and their tops, densely clothed with long, bristling foliage, intermingle so closely as to allow of but slight entrance to the sun. hence, the undergrowth of such forests is comparatively slight and thin, since none but shrubs, and plants that love the shade, can flourish under this perpetual exclusion of the animating and invigorating rays of the great exciter of the vegetable world. through such forests, and by the merest foot-paths, in great part, it was my lot to pass many miles almost every day; and had i not endeavoured to derive some amusement and instruction from the study of the forest itself, my time would have been as fatiguing to me, as it was certainly quiet and solemn. but wherever nature is, and under whatever form she may present herself, enough is always proffered to fix attention and produce pleasure, if we will condescend to observe with carefulness. i soon found that even a pine-forest was far from being devoid of interest, and shall endeavour to prove this by stating the result of various observations made during the time i lived in this situation. the common pitch, or, as it is generally called, norway pine, grows from a seed, which is matured in vast abundance in the large cones peculiar to the pines. this seed is of a rather triangular shape, thick and heavy at the part by which it grows from the cone, and terminating in a broad membranous fan or sail, which, when the seeds are shaken out by the wind, enables them to sail obliquely through the air to great distances. should an old corn-field, or other piece of ground, be thrown out of cultivation for more than one season, it is sown with pine-seeds by the winds, and the young pines shoot up as closely and compactly as hemp. they continue to grow in this manner until they become twelve or fifteen feet high, until their roots begin to encroach on each other, or until the stoutest and best rooted begin to overtop so as entirely to shade the smaller. these gradually begin to fail, and finally dry up and perish, and a similar process is continued until the best trees acquire room enough to grow without impediment. even when the young pines have attained to thirty or forty feet in height, and are as thick as a man's thigh, they stand so closely together that their lower branches, which are all dry and dead, are intermingled sufficiently to prevent any one from passing between the trees, without first breaking these obstructions away. i have seen such a wood as that just mentioned, covering an old corn-field, whose ridges were still distinctly to be traced, and which an old resident informed me he had seen growing in corn. in a part of this wood, which was not far from my dwelling, i had a delightful retreat, that served me as a private study or closet, though enjoying all the advantages of the open air. a road that had once passed through the field, and was of course more compacted than any other part, had denied access to the pine-seeds for a certain distance, while on each side of it they grew with their usual density. the ground was covered with the soft layer or carpet of dried pine leaves which gradually and imperceptibly fall throughout the year, making a most pleasant surface to tread on, and rendering the step perfectly noiseless. by beating off with a stick all the dried branches that projected towards the vacant space, i formed a sort of chamber, fifteen or twenty feet long, which above was canopied by the densely-mingled branches of the adjacent trees, which altogether excluded or scattered the rays of the sun, and on all sides was so shut in by the trunks of the young trees, as to prevent all observation. hither, during the hot season, i was accustomed to retire for the purpose of reading or meditation; and within this deeper solitude, where all was solitary, very many of the subsequent movements of my life were suggested or devised. from all i could observe, and all the inquiries i could get answered, it appeared that this rapidly-growing tree does not attain its full growth until it is eighty or ninety years old, nor does its time of full health and vigour much exceed an hundred. before this time it is liable to the attacks of insects, but these are of a kind that bore the tender spring shoots to deposit their eggs therein, and their larvæ appear to live principally on the sap, which is very abundant, so that the tree is but slightly injured. but after the pine has attained its acmé, it is attacked by an insect which deposits its egg in the body of the tree, and the larva devours its way through the solid substance of the timber; so that, after a pine has been for one or two seasons subjected to these depredators, it will be fairly riddled, and, if cut down, is unfit for any other purpose than burning. indeed, if delayed too long, it is poorly fit for firewood, so thoroughly do these insects destroy its substance. at the same time that one set of insects is engaged in destroying the body, myriads of others are at work under the bark, destroying the sap vessels, and the foliage wears a more and more pale and sickly appearance as the tree declines in vigour. if not cut down, it eventually dies, becomes leafless, stripped of its bark, and, as the decay advances, all the smaller branches are broken off; and it stands with its naked trunk and a few ragged limbs, as if bidding defiance to the tempest which howls around its head. under favourable circumstances, a large trunk will stand in this condition for nearly a century, so extensive and powerful are its roots, so firm and stubborn the original knitting of its giant frame. at length some storm, more furious than all its predecessors, wrenches those ponderous roots from the soil, and hurls the helpless carcass to the earth, crushing all before it in its fall. without the aid of fire, or some peculiarity of situation favourable to rapid decomposition, full another hundred years will be requisite to reduce it to its elements, and obliterate the traces of its existence. indeed, long after the lapse of more than that period, we find the heart of the pitch-pine still preserving its original form, and, from being thoroughly imbued with turpentine, become utterly indestructible except by fire. if the proprietor attend to the warnings afforded by the wood-pecker, he may always cut his pines in time to prevent them from being injured by insects. the wood-peckers run up and around the trunks, tapping from time to time with their powerful bill. the bird knows at once by the sound whether there be insects below or not. if the tree is sound, the wood-pecker soon forsakes it for another; should he begin to break into the bark, it is to catch the worm; and such trees are at once to be marked for the axe. in felling such pines, i found the woodmen always anxious to avoid letting them strike against neighbouring sound trees, as they said that the insects more readily attacked an injured tree than one whose bark was unbroken. the observation is most probably correct; at least the experience of country folks in such matters is rarely wrong, though they sometimes give very odd reasons for the processes they adopt. a full-grown pine-forest is at all times a grand and majestic object to one accustomed to moving through it. those vast and towering columns, sustaining a waving crown of deepest verdure; those robust and rugged limbs standing forth at a vast height overhead, loaded with the cones of various seasons; and the diminutiveness of all surrounding objects compared with these gigantic children of nature, cannot but inspire ideas of seriousness, and even of melancholy. but how awful and even tremendous does such a situation become, when we hear the first wailings of the gathering storm, as it stoops upon the lofty summits of the pine, and soon increases to a deep hoarse roaring, as the boughs begin to wave in the blast, and the whole tree is forced to sway before its power. in a short time the fury of the wind is at its height, the loftiest trees bend suddenly before it, and scarce regain their upright position ere they are again obliged to cower beneath its violence. then the tempest literally howls, and amid the tremendous reverberations of thunder, and the blazing glare of the lightning, the unfortunate wanderer hears around him the crash of numerous trees hurled down by the storm, and knows not but the next may be precipitated upon him. more than once have i witnessed all the grandeur, dread, and desolation of such a scene, and have always found safety either by seeking as quickly as possible a spot where there were none but young trees, or, if on a main road, choosing the most open and exposed situation out of the reach of the large trees. there, seated on my horse, who seemed to understand the propriety of such patience, i would quietly remain, however thoroughly drenched, until the fury of the wind was completely over. to say nothing of the danger from falling trees, the peril of being struck by the lightning, which so frequently shivers the loftiest of them, is so great as to render any attempt to advance at such time highly imprudent. like the ox among animals, the pine-tree may be looked upon as one of the most universally useful of the sons of the forest. for all sorts of building, for firewood, tar, turpentine, rosin, lamp-black, and a vast variety of other useful products, this tree is invaluable to man. nor is it a pleasing contemplation, to one who knows its usefulness, to observe to how vast an amount it is annually destroyed in this country, beyond the proportion that nature can possibly supply. however, we are not disposed to believe that this evil will ever be productive of very great injury, especially as coal fuel is becoming annually more extensively used. nevertheless, were i the owner of a pine-forest, i should exercise a considerable degree of care in the selection of the wood for the axe. john. no. x. among the enemies with which the farmers of a poor or light soil have to contend, i know of none so truly formidable and injurious as the crows, whose numbers, cunning, and audacity can scarcely be appreciated, except by those who have had long-continued and numerous opportunities of observation. possessed of the most acute senses, and endowed by nature with a considerable share of reasoning power, these birds bid defiance to almost all the contrivances resorted to for their destruction; and when their numbers have accumulated to vast multitudes, which annually occurs, it is scarcely possible to estimate the destruction they are capable of effecting. placed in a situation where every object was subjected to close observation, as a source of amusement, it is not surprising that my attention should be drawn to so conspicuous an object as the crow; and having once commenced remarking the peculiarities of this bird, i continued to bestow attention upon it during many years, in whatever situation it was met with. the thickly-wooded and well-watered parts of the state of maryland, as affording them a great abundance of food, and almost entire security during their breeding season, are especially infested by these troublesome creatures, so that at some times of the year they are collected in numbers which would appear incredible to any one unaccustomed to witness their accumulations. individually, the common crow (_corvus corona_) may be compared in character with the brown or norway rat, being, like that quadruped, addicted to all sorts of mischief, destroying the lives of any small creatures that may fall in its way, plundering with audacity wherever anything is exposed to its rapaciousness, and triumphing by its cunning over the usual artifices employed for the destruction of ordinary noxious animals. where food is at any time scarce, or the opportunity for such marauding inviting, there is scarcely a young animal about the farm-yards safe from the attacks of the crow. young chickens, ducks, goslings, and even little pigs, when quite young and feeble, are carried off by them. they are not less eager to discover the nests of domestic fowls; and will sit very quietly in sight, at a convenient distance, until the hen leaves the nest, and then fly down and suck her eggs at leisure. but none of their tricks excited in me a greater interest, than the observation of their attempts to rob a hen of her chicks. the crow, alighting at a little distance from the hen, would advance in an apparently careless way towards the brood, when the vigilant parent would bristle up her feathers, and rush at the black rogue to drive him off. after several such approaches, the hen would become very angry, and would chase the crow to a greater distance from the brood. this is the very object the robber has in view, for, as long as the parent keeps near her young, the crow has very slight chance of success; but as soon as he can induce her to follow him to a little distance from the brood, he takes advantage of his wings, and, before she can regain her place, has flown over her, and seized one of her chickens. when the cock is present, there is still less danger from such an attack, for chanticleer shows all his vigilance and gallantry in protecting his tender offspring, though it frequently happens that the number of hens with broods renders it impossible for him to extend his care to all. when the crow tries to carry off a gosling from the mother, it requires more daring and skill, and is far less frequently successful than in the former instance. if the gander be in company, which he almost uniformly is, the crow has his labour in vain. notwithstanding the advantages of flight and superior cunning, the honest vigilance and determined bravery of the former are too much for him. his attempts to approach, however cautiously conducted, are promptly met, and all his tricks rendered unavailing, by the fierce movements of the gander, whose powerful blows the crow seems to be well aware might effectually disable him. the first time i witnessed such a scene, i was at the side of the creek, and saw on the opposite shore a goose with her goslings, beset by a crow: from the apparent alarm of the mother and brood, it seemed to me they must be in great danger, and i called to the owner of the place, who happened to be in sight, to inform him of their situation. instead of going to their relief, he shouted back to me, to ask if the gander was not there too; and as soon as he was answered in the affirmative, he bid me be under no uneasiness, as the crow would find his match. nothing could exceed the cool impudence and pertinacity of the crow, who, perfectly regardless of my shouting, continued to worry the poor gander for an hour, by his efforts to obtain a nice gosling for his next meal. at length, convinced of the fruitlessness of his efforts, he flew off to seek some more easily procurable food. several crows sometimes unite to plunder the goose of her young, and are then generally successful, because they are able to distract the attention of the parents, and lure them farther from their young. in the summer the crows disperse in pairs, for the purpose of raising their young, and then they select lofty trees in the remotest parts of the forest, upon which, with dry sticks and twigs, they build a large strong nest, and line it with softer materials. they lay four or five eggs, and, when they are hatched, feed, attend, and watch over their young with the most zealous devotion. should any one by chance pass near the nest while the eggs are still unhatched, or the brood are very young, the parents keep close, and neither by the slightest movement nor noise betray their presence. but if the young are fledged, and beginning to take their first lessons in flying, the approach of a man, especially if armed with a gun, calls forth all their cunning and solicitude. the young are immediately placed in the securest place at hand, where the foliage is thickest, and remain perfectly motionless and quiet. not so the alarmed parents, both of which fly nearer and nearer to the hunter, uttering the most discordant screams, with an occasional peculiar note, which seems intended to direct or warn their young. so close do they approach, and so clamorous are they as the hunter endeavours to get a good view of them on the tree, that he is almost uniformly persuaded the young crows are also concealed there; but he does not perceive, as he is cautiously trying to get within gun-shot, that they are moving from tree to tree, and at each remove are farther and farther from the place where the young are hid. after continuing this trick until it is impossible that the hunter can retain any idea of the situation of the young ones, the parents cease their distressing outcries, fly quietly to the most convenient lofty tree, and calmly watch the movements of their disturber. now and then they utter a loud quick cry, which seems intended to bid their offspring lie close and keep quiet, and it is very generally the case that they escape all danger by their obedience. an experienced crow-killer watches eagerly for the tree where the crows first start from; and if this can be observed, he pays no attention to their clamours, nor pretence of throwing themselves in his way, as he is satisfied they are too vigilant to let him get a shot at them; and if he can see the young, he is tolerably sure of them all, because of their inability to fly or change place readily. the time of the year in which the farmers suffer most from them, is in the spring, before their enormous congregations disperse, and when they are rendered voracious by the scantiness of their winter fare. woe betide the corn-field which is not closely watched, when the young grain begins to shoot above the soil! if not well guarded, a host of these marauders will settle upon it at the first light of the dawn, and before the sun has risen far above the horizon, will have plundered every shoot of the germinating seed, by first drawing it skilfully from the moist earth by the young stalk, and then swallowing the grain. the negligent or careless planter, who does not visit his fields before breakfast, finds, on his arrival, that he must either replant his corn, or relinquish hopes of a crop; and, without the exertion of due vigilance, he may be obliged to repeat this process twice or thrice the same season. where the crows go to rob a field in this way, they place one or more sentinels, according to circumstances, in convenient places; and these are exceedingly vigilant, uttering a single warning call, which puts the whole to flight the instant there is the least appearance of danger or interruption. having fixed their sentinels, they begin regularly at one part of the field, and pursuing the rows along, pulling up each shoot in succession, and biting off the corn at the root. the green shoots thus left along the rows, as if they had been arranged with care, offer a melancholy memorial of the work which has been effected by these cunning and destructive plunderers. numerous experiments have been made, where the crows are thus injurious, to avert their ravages; and the method i shall now relate i have seen tried with the most gratifying success. in a large tub a portion of tar and grease were mixed, so as to render the tar sufficiently thin and soft, and to this was added a portion of slacked lime in powder, and the whole stirred until thoroughly incorporated. the seed-corn was then thrown in, and stirred with the mixture until each grain received a uniform coating. the corn was then dropped in the hills, and covered as usual. this treatment was found to retard the germination about three days, as the mixture greatly excludes moisture from the grain. but the crows did no injury to the field: they pulled up a small quantity in different parts of the planting, to satisfy themselves it was all alike; upon becoming convinced of which, they quietly left it for some less carefully managed grounds, where pains had not been taken to make all the corn so nauseous and bitter. john. no. xi. it rarely happens that any of the works of nature are wholly productive of evil; and even the crows, troublesome as they are, contribute in a small degree to the good of the district they frequent. thus, though they destroy eggs and young poultry, plunder the corn-fields, and carry off whatever may serve for food, they also rid the surface of the earth of a considerable quantity of carrion, and a vast multitude of insects and their destructive larvæ. the crows are very usefully employed when they alight upon newly-ploughed fields, and pick up great numbers of those large and long-lived worms which are so destructive to the roots of all growing vegetables; and they are scarcely less so when they follow the seine-haulers along the shores, and pick up the small fishes, which would otherwise be left to putrefy, and load the air with unpleasant vapours. nevertheless, they become far more numerous in some parts of the country than is at all necessary to the good of the inhabitants, and whoever would devise a method of lessening their numbers suddenly, would certainly be doing a service to the community. about a quarter of a mile above the house i lived in, on curtis's creek, the shore was a sand-bank or bluff, twenty or thirty feet high, crowned with a dense young pine-forest to its very edge. almost directly opposite, the shore was flat, and formed a point, extending, in the form of a broad sand-bar, for a considerable distance into the water; and, when the tide was low, this flat afforded a fine level space, to which nothing could approach in either direction without being easily seen. at a short distance from the water, a young swamp-wood of maple, gum, oaks, etc. extended back towards some higher ground. as the sun descended, and threw his last rays in one broad sheet of golden effulgence over the crystal mirror of the waters, innumerable companies of crows arrived daily, and settled on this point, for the purpose of drinking, picking up gravel, and uniting in one body prior to retiring for the night to their accustomed dormitory. the trees adjacent and all the shore would be literally blackened by these plumed marauders, while their increasing outcries, chattering, and screams, were almost deafening. it certainly seems that they derive great pleasure from their social habits; and i often amused myself by thinking the uninterrupted clatter which was kept up, as the different gangs united with the main body, was produced by the recital of the adventures they had encountered during their last marauding excursions. as the sun became entirely sunk below the horizon, the grand flock crossed to the sand-bluff on the opposite side, where they generally spent a few moments in picking up a farther supply of gravel, and then, arising in dense and ample column, they sought their habitual roost in the deep entanglements of the distant pines. this daily visit to the point, so near to my dwelling, and so accessible by means of the skiff, led me to hope that i should have considerable success in destroying them. full of such anticipations, i loaded two guns, and proceeded in my boat to the expected place of action, previous to the arrival of the crows. my view was to have my boat somewhere about half-way between the two shores, and (as they never manifested much fear of boats) to take my chance of firing upon the main body as they were flying over my head to the opposite side of the river. shortly after i had gained my station, the companies began to arrive, and everything went on as usual. but whether they suspected some mischief from seeing a boat so long stationary in their vicinity, or could see and distinguish the guns in the boat, i am unable to say: the fact was, however, that when they set out to fly over, they passed at an elevation which secured them from my artillery effectually, although, on ordinary occasions, they were in the habit of flying over me at a height of not more than twenty or thirty feet. i returned home without having had a shot, but resolved to try if i could not succeed better the next day. the same result followed the experiment, and when i fired at one gang, which it appeared possible to attain, the instant the gun was discharged the crows made a sort of halt, descended considerably, flying in circles, and screaming most vociferously, as if in contempt or derision. had i been prepared for this, a few of them might have suffered for their bravado. but my second gun was in the bow of the boat, and before i could get to it the black gentry had risen to their former security. while we were sitting at tea that evening, a black came to inform me that a considerable flock of crows, which had arrived too late to join the great flock, had pitched in the young pines, not a great way from the house, and at a short distance from the road-side. we quickly had the guns in readiness, and i scarcely could restrain my impatience until it should be late enough and dark enough to give us a chance of success. without thinking of anything but the great number of the crows, and their inability to fly to advantage in the night, my notions of the numbers we should bring home were extravagant enough, and i only regretted that we might be obliged to leave some behind. at length, led by the black boy, we sallied forth, and soon arrived in the vicinity of this temporary and unusual roost; and now the true character of the enterprise began to appear. we were to leave the road, and penetrate several hundred yards among the pines, whose proximity to each other, and the difficulty of moving between which, on account of the dead branches, has been heretofore stated. next, we had to be careful not to alarm the crows before we were ready to act, and at the same time were to advance with cocked guns in our hands. the only way of moving forwards at all, i found to be that of turning my shoulders as much as possible to the dead branches, and breaking my way as gently as i could. at last we reached the trees upon which the crows were roosting; but as the foliage of the young pines was extremely dense, and the birds were full forty feet above the ground, it was out of the question to distinguish where the greatest number were situated. selecting the trees which appeared by the greater darkness of their summits to be most heavily laden with our game, my companion and i pulled our triggers at the same moment. the report was followed by considerable outcries from the crows, by a heavy shower of pine twigs and leaves upon which the shot had taken effect, and a deafening roar, caused by the sudden rising on the wing of the alarmed sleepers. _one_ crow at length fell near me, which was wounded too badly to fly or retain his perch, and as the flock had gone entirely off, with this one crow did i return, rather crest-fallen, from my grand nocturnal expedition. this crow, however, afforded me instructive employment and amusement, during the next day, in the dissection of its nerves and organs of sense; and i know not that i ever derived more pleasure from any anatomical examination, than i did from the dissection of its internal ear. the extent and convolutions of its semi-circular canals show how highly the sense of hearing is perfected in these creatures; and those who wish to be convinced of the truth of what we have stated in relation to them, may still see this identical crow skull in the baltimore museum, to which i presented it after finishing the dissection. at least, i saw it there a year or two since; though i little thought, when employed in examining, or even when i last saw it, that it would ever be the subject of such a reference, "in a printed book." not easily disheartened by preceding failures, i next resolved to try to outwit the crows, and for this purpose prepared a long line, to which a very considerable number of lateral lines were tied, having each a very small fish-hook at the end. each of these hooks was baited with a single grain of corn, so cunningly put on, that it seemed impossible that the grain could be taken up without the hook being swallowed with it. about four o'clock, in order to be in full time, i rowed up to the sandy point, made fast my main line to a bush, and extending it toward the water, pegged it down at the other end securely in the sand. i next arranged all my baited lines, and then, covering them all nicely with sand, left nothing exposed but the bait. this done, i scattered a quantity of corn all around, to render the baits as little liable to suspicion as possible. after taking a final view of the arrangement, which seemed a very hopeful one, i pulled my boat gently homeward, to wait the event of my solicitude for the capture of the crows. as usual, they arrived in thousands, blackened the sand beach, chattered, screamed, and fluttered about in great glee, and finally sailed over the creek and away to their roost, without having left a solitary unfortunate to pay for having meddled with my baited hooks. i jumped into the skiff, and soon paid a visit to my unsuccessful snare. the corn was all gone; the very hooks were all bare; and it was evident that some other expedient must be adopted before i could hope to succeed. had i caught but one or two _alive_, it was my intention to have employed them to procure the destruction of others, in a manner i shall hereafter describe. john. no. xii. had i succeeded in obtaining some living crows, they were to be employed in the following manner: after having made a sort of concealment of brushwood within good gun-shot distance, the crows were to be fastened by their wings on their backs between two pegs, yet not so closely as to prevent them from fluttering or struggling. the other crows, who are always very inquisitive where their species is in any trouble, were expected to light down near the captives, and the latter would certainly seize the first that came near enough with their claws, and hold on pertinaciously. this would have produced fighting and screaming in abundance, and the whole flock might gradually be so drawn into the fray, as to allow many opportunities of discharging the guns upon them with full effect. this i have often observed--that when a quarrel or fight took place in a large flock or gang of crows (a circumstance by no means infrequent), it seemed soon to extend to the whole; and during the continuance of their anger all the usual caution of their nature appeared to be forgotten, allowing themselves at such times to be approached closely; and, regardless of men, fire-arms, or the fall of their companions, continuing their wrangling with rancorous obstinacy. a similar disposition may be produced among them by catching a large owl, and tying it with a cord of moderate length to the limb of a naked tree in a neighbourhood frequented by the crows. the owl is one of the few enemies which the crow has much reason to dread, as it robs the nests of their young, whenever they are left for the shortest time. hence, whenever crows discover an owl in the day-time, like many other birds, they commence an attack upon it, screaming most vociferously, and bringing together all of their species within hearing. once this clamour has fairly begun, and their passions are fully aroused, there is little danger of their being scared away, and the chance of destroying them by shooting is continued as long as the owl remains uninjured. but one such opportunity presented during my residence where crows were abundant, and this was unfortunately spoiled by the eagerness of one of the gunners, who, in his eagerness to demolish one of the crows, fixed upon some that were most busy with the owl, and killed it instead of its disturbers, which at once ended the sport. when the crows leave the roost, at early dawn, they generally fly to a naked or leafless tree in the nearest field, and there plume themselves and chatter until the day-light is sufficiently clear to show all objects with distinctness. of this circumstance i have taken advantage several times, to get good shots at them in this way. during the day-time, having selected a spot within proper distance of the tree frequented by them in the morning, i have built with brushwood and pine-bushes a thick, close screen, behind which one or two persons might move securely without being observed. proper openings through which to level the guns were also made, as the slightest stir or noise could not be made, at the time of action, without a risk of rendering all the preparations fruitless. the guns were all in order and loaded before going to bed, and at an hour or two before day-light we repaired quietly to the field, and stationed ourselves behind the screen, where, having mounted our guns at the loop-holes, to be in perfect readiness, we waited patiently for the day-break. soon after the gray twilight of the dawn began to displace the darkness, the voice of one of our expected visitants would be heard from the distant forest, and shortly after a single crow would slowly sail towards the solitary tree, and settle on its very summit. presently a few more would arrive singly, and in a little while small flocks followed. conversation among them is at first rather limited to occasional salutations, but as the flock begins to grow numerous, it becomes general and very animated, and by this time all that may be expected on this occasion have arrived. this may be known, also, by observing one or more of them descend to the ground, and if the gunners do not now make the best of the occasion, it will soon be lost, as the whole gang will presently sail off, scattering as they go. however, we rarely waited till there was a danger of their departure, but as soon as the flock had fairly arrived, and were still crowded upon the upper parts of the tree, we pulled triggers together, aiming at the thickest of the throng. in this way, by killing and wounding them, with two or three guns, a dozen or more would be destroyed. it was of course needless to expect to find a similar opportunity in the same place for a long time afterwards, as those which escaped had too good memories to return to so disastrous a spot. by ascertaining other situations at considerable distances, we could every now and then obtain similar advantages over them. about the years - - - - , the crows were so vastly accumulated and destructive in the state of maryland, that the government, to hasten their diminution, received their heads in payment of taxes, at the price of three cents each. the store-keepers bought them of the boys and shooters, who had no taxes to pay, at a rather lower rate, or exchanged powder and shot for them. this measure caused a great havoc to be kept up among them, and in a few years so much diminished the grievance, that the price was withdrawn. two modes of shooting them in considerable numbers were followed, and with great success: the one, that of killing them while on the wing towards the roost; and the other, attacking them in the night, when they have been for some hours asleep. i have already mentioned the regularity with which vast flocks move from various quarters of the country to their roosting-places every afternoon, and the uniformity of the route they pursue. in cold weather, when all the small bodies of water are frozen, and they are obliged to protract their flight towards the bays or sea, their return is a work of considerable labour, especially should a strong wind blow against them: at this season, also, being rather poorly fed, they are of necessity less vigorous. should the wind be adverse, they fly as near the earth as possible, and of this the shooters, at the time i allude to, took advantage. a large number would collect on such an afternoon, and station themselves close along the foot-way of a high bank, over which the crows were in the habit of flying; and as they were in a great degree screened from sight as the flock flew over, keeping as low as possible, because of the wind, their shots were generally very effectual. the stronger was the wind, the greater was their success. the crows that were not injured found it very difficult to rise, and those that diverged laterally only came nearer to gunners stationed in expectation of such movements. the flocks were several hours in passing over; and as there was generally a considerable interval between each company of considerable size, the last arrived, unsuspicious of what had been going on, and the shooters had time to recharge their arms. but the grand harvest of crow heads was derived from the invasion of their dormitories, which are well worthy a particular description, and should be visited by every one who wishes to form a proper idea of the number of these birds that may be accumulated in a single district. the roost is most commonly the densest pine-thicket that can be found, generally at no great distance from some river, bay, or other sheet of water, which is the last to freeze, or rarely is altogether frozen. to such a roost the crows, which are, during the day-time, scattered over perhaps more than a hundred miles of circumference, wing their way every afternoon, and arrive shortly after sunset. endless columns pour in from various quarters, and as they arrive pitch upon their accustomed perches, crowding closely together for the benefit of the warmth and the shelter afforded by the thick foliage of the pine. the trees are literally bent by their weight, and the ground is covered for many feet in depth by their dung, which, by its gradual fermentation, must also tend to increase the warmth of the roost. such roosts are known to be thus occupied for years, beyond the memory of individuals; and i know of one or two which the oldest residents in the quarter state to have been known to their grandfathers, and probably had been resorted to by the crows during several ages previous. there is one of great age and magnificent extent in the vicinity of rock creek, an arm of the patapsco. they are sufficiently numerous on the rivers opening into the chesapeake, and are everywhere similar in their general aspect. wilson has signalised such a roost at no great distance from bristol, pa.; and i know by observation that not less than a million of crows sleep there nightly during the winter season. to gather crow heads from the roost, a very large party was made up, proportioned to the extent of surface occupied by the dormitory. armed with double-barrelled and duck guns, which threw a large charge of shot, the company was divided into small parties, and these took stations, selected during the day-time, so as to surround the roost as nearly as possible. a dark night was always preferred, as the crows could not, when alarmed, fly far, and the attack was delayed until full midnight. all being at their posts, the firing was commenced by those who were most advantageously posted, and followed up successively by the others, as the affrighted crows sought refuge in their vicinity. on every side the carnage then raged fiercely, and there can scarcely be conceived a more forcible idea of the horrors of a battle, than such a scene afforded. the crows screaming with fright and the pain of wounds; the loud deep roar produced by the raising of their whole number in the air; the incessant flashing and thundering of the guns; and the shouts of their eager destroyers, all produced an effect which can never be forgotten by any one who has witnessed it, nor can it well be adequately comprehended by those who have not. blinded by the blaze of the powder, and bewildered by the thicker darkness that ensues, the crows rise and settle again at a short distance, without being able to withdraw from the field of danger, and the sanguinary work is continued until the shooters are fatigued, or the approach of day-light gives the survivors a chance of escape. then the work of collecting the heads from the dead and wounded began, and this was a task of considerable difficulty, as the wounded used their utmost efforts to conceal and defend themselves. the bill and half the front of the skull were cut off together, and strung in sums for the tax-gatherer, and the product of the night divided according to the nature of the party formed. sometimes the great mass of shooters were hired for the night, and received no share of scalps, having their ammunition provided by the employers: other parties were formed of friends and neighbours, who clubbed for the ammunition, and shared equally in the result. during hard winters the crows suffer greatly, and perish in considerable numbers from hunger. when starved severely, the poor wretches will swallow bits of leather, rope, rags, in short, anything that appears to promise the slightest relief. multitudes belonging to the bristol roost perished during the winter of - from this cause. all the water-courses were solidly frozen, and it was distressing to observe these starvelings every morning winging their weary way towards the shores of the sea, in hopes of food, and again toiling homewards in the afternoon, apparently scarce able to fly. in speaking of destroying crows, we have never adverted to the use of poison, which in their case is wholly inadmissible, on this account--where crows are common, hogs generally run at large, and to poison the crows would equally poison them: the crows would die, and fall to the ground, where they would certainly be eaten by the hogs. crows, when caught young, learn to talk plainly, if pains be taken to repeat certain phrases to them, and they become exceedingly impudent and troublesome. like all of their tribe, they will steal and hide silver or other bright objects, of which they can make no possible use. john. transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_, bold text by =equals=. audubon and his journals [illustration: emberiza townsendii, townsend's bunting. (now spiza townsendii.) from an unfinished drawing by j. j. audubon of the only specimen ever known, shot may , . in chester co., pa., by j. k. townsend.] audubon and his journals by maria r. audubon with zoÖlogical and other notes by elliott coues _illustrated_ volume ii. new york charles scribner's sons _copyright, _, by charles scribner's sons. university press: john wilson and son cambridge, u.s.a. contents volume ii page the missouri river journals (_continued_) episodes: louisville in kentucky the ohio fishing in the ohio a wild horse breaking up of the ice the prairie the regulators the earthquake the hurricane colonel boone natchez in the lost portfolio the original painter the cougar the runaway a tough walk for a youth hospitality in the woods niagara meadville the burning of the forests a long calm at sea still becalmed great egg harbor the great pine swamp the lost one the live-oakers spring garden death of a pirate the wreckers of florida st. john's river in florida the florida keys. i the florida keys. ii the turtlers the force of the waters journey in new brunswick and maine a moose hunt labrador the eggers of labrador the squatters of labrador cod fishing a ball in newfoundland the bay of fundy a flood the squatters of the mississippi improvements in the navigation of the mississippi kentucky sports the traveller and the pole-cat deer hunting the eccentric naturalist scipio and the bear a kentucky barbecue a raccoon hunt in kentucky pitting of wolves the opossum a maple-sugar camp the white perch and its favorite bait the american sun perch my style of drawing birds index list of illustrations. vol. ii. page emberiza townsendii (now spiza townsendii), townsend's bunting _frontispiece_ from an unfinished drawing by j. j. audubon of the only specimen ever known. shot may , , in chester county, pa., by j. k. townsend. audubon from the pencil sketch by isaac sprague, . in the possession of the sprague family, wellesley hills, mass. camp at the three mamelles from a drawing by audubon, hitherto unpublished. camp on the missouri from a drawing by isaac sprague. mrs. audubon. from a daguerreotype. audubon. painted in edinburgh by j. w. audubon. victor gifford audubon painted by audubon about . john woodhouse audubon painted by audubon about . tringa alpina (now pelidna alpina pacifica), red-backed sandpiper from the unpublished drawing by j. j. audubon, november , . audubon. from a daguerreotype. owned by mrs. elizabeth berthoud grimshaw. victor gifford audubon. john woodhouse audubon. old mill and miller's cottage at mill grove on the perkiomen creek from a photograph from w. h. wetherill, esq. audubon from a pencil sketch after death by john woodhouse audubon, january , . bowie knife presented by henry carleton. facsimiles of diplomas _at end of volume_ la société linnéenne de paris. novembre, . lyceum of natural history, new york. january , . société d'histoire naturelle de paris. decembre, . american academy of arts and sciences, massachusetts. november , . royal society of edinburgh. march , . royal jennerian society, london. july , . literary and historical society of quebec. november , . western academy of natural sciences, st. louis, mo. april , . natural history society of montreal. march , . the missouri river journals (_continued_) _june , sunday._ we have run pretty well, though the wind has been tolerably high; the country we have passed this day is somewhat better than what we saw yesterday, which, as i said, was the poorest we have seen. no occurrence of interest has taken place. we passed this morning the old riccaree[ ] village, where general ashley[ ] was so completely beaten as to lose eighteen of his men, with the very weapons and ammunition that he had trafficked with the indians of that village, against all the remonstrances of his friends and interpreters; yet he said that it proved fortunate for him, as he turned his steps towards some other spot, where he procured one hundred packs of beaver skins for a mere song. we stopped to cut wood at an old house put up for winter quarters, and the wood being ash, and quite dry, was excellent. we are now fast for the night at an abandoned post, or fort, of the company, where, luckily for us, a good deal of wood was found cut. we saw only one wolf, and a few small gangs of buffaloes. bell shot a bunting which resembles henslow's, but we have no means of comparing it at present. we have collected a few plants during our landing. the steam is blowing off, and therefore our day's run is ended. when i went to bed last night it was raining smartly, and alexis did not go off, as he did wish. by the way, i forgot to say that along with the three prairie marmots, he brought also four spoon-billed ducks, which we ate at dinner to-day, and found delicious. bell saw many lazuli finches this morning. notwithstanding the tremendous shaking of our boat, sprague managed to draw four figures of the legs and feet of the wolf shot by bell yesterday, and my own pencil was not idle. _june , monday._ alexis went off in the night sometime, and came on board about three o'clock this morning; he had seen nothing whatever, except the traces of beavers and of otters, on beaver creek, which, by the way, he had to cross on a raft. speaking of rafts, i am told that one of these, made of two bundles of rushes, about the size of a man's body, and fastened together by a few sticks, is quite sufficient to take two men and two packs of buffalo robes across this muddy river. in the course of the morning we passed cannon ball river,[ ] and the very remarkable bluffs about it, of which we cannot well speak until we have stopped there and examined their nature. we saw two swans alighting on the prairie at a considerable distance. we stopped to take wood at bowie's settlement, at which place his wife was killed by some of the riccaree indians, after some gros ventres had assured him that such would be the case if he suffered his wife to go out of the house. she went out, however, on the second day, and was shot with three rifle-balls. the indians took parts of her hair and went off. she was duly buried; but the gros ventres returned some time afterwards, took up the body, and carried off the balance of her hair. they, however, reburied her; and it was not until several months had elapsed that the story came to the ears of mr. bowie. we have also passed apple creek,[ ] but the chief part is yet to be added. at one place where the bluffs were high, we saw five buffaloes landing a few hundred yards above us on the western side; one of them cantered off immediately, and by some means did reach the top of the hills, and went out of our sight; the four others ran, waded, and swam at different places, always above us, trying to make their escape. at one spot they attempted to climb the bluff, having unconsciously passed the place where their leader had made good his way, and in their attempts to scramble up, tumbled down, and at last became so much affrighted that they took to the river for good, with the intention to swim to the shore they had left. unfortunately for them, we had been gaining upon them; we had all been anxiously watching them, and the moment they began to swim we were all about the boat with guns and rifles, awaiting the instant when they would be close under our bows. the moment came; i was on the lower deck among several of the people with guns, and the firing was soon heavy; but not one of the buffaloes was stopped, although every one must have been severely hit and wounded. bell shot a load of buckshot at the head of one, which disappeared entirely under the water for perhaps a minute. i sent a ball through the neck of the last of the four, but all ineffectually, and off they went, swimming to the opposite shore; one lagged behind the rest, but, having found footing on a sand-bar, it rested awhile, and again swam off to rejoin its companions. they all reached the shore, but were quite as badly off on that side as they had been on the other, and their difficulties must have been great indeed; however, in a short time we had passed them. mr. charles primeau,[ ] who is a good shot, and who killed the young buffalo bull the other day, assured me that it was his opinion the whole of these would die before sundown, but that buffaloes swimming were a hundred times more difficult to kill than those on shore. i have been told also, that a buffalo shot by an indian, in the presence of several whites, exhibited some marks on the inside of the skin that looked like old wounds, and that on close examination they found no less than six balls in its paunch. sometimes they will run a mile after having been struck through the heart; whilst at other times they will fall dead without such desperate shot. alexis told me that once he shot one through the thigh, and that it fell dead on the spot. we passed this afternoon a very curious conical mound of earth, about which harris and i had some curiosity, by which i lost two pounds of snuff, as he was right, and i was wrong. we have seen geese and goslings, ravens, blue herons, bluebirds, thrushes, red-headed woodpeckers and red-shafted ditto, martins, an immense number of rough-winged swallows about their holes, and barn swallows. we heard killdeers last evening. small crested flycatchers, summer yellow-birds, maryland yellow-throats, house wrens are seen as we pass along our route; while the spotted sandpiper accompanies us all along the river. sparrow hawks, turkey buzzards, arctic towhee buntings, cat-birds, mallards, coots, gadwalls, king-birds, yellow-breasted chats, red thrushes, all are noted as we pass. we have had a good day's run; it is now half-past ten. the wind has been cold, and this evening we have had a dash of rain. we have seen only one wolf. we have heard some wonderful stories about indians and white men, none of which i can well depend upon. we have stopped for the night a few miles above where the "assiniboin"[ ] steamer was burnt with all her cargo uninsured, in the year . i heard that after she had run ashore, the men started to build a scow to unload the cargo; but that through some accident the vessel was set on fire, and that a man and a woman who alone had been left on board, walked off to the island, where they remained some days unable to reach shore. _june , tuesday._ this morning was quite cold, and we had a thick white frost on our upper deck. it was also extremely cloudy, the wind from the east, and all about us looked dismal enough. the hands on board seemed to have been busy the whole of the night, for i scarcely slept for the noise they made. we soon came to a very difficult part of the river, and had to stop full three hours. meanwhile the yawl went off to seek and sound for a channel, whilst the wood-cutters and the carriers--who, by the way, are called "charrettes"[ ]--followed their work, and we gathered a good quantity of drift-wood, which burns like straw. our hopes of reaching the mandan village were abandoned, but we at last proceeded on our way and passed the bar; it was nearly dinner-time. harris and bell had their guns, and brought two arctic towhee buntings and a black-billed cuckoo. they saw two large flocks of geese making their way westward. the place where we landed showed many signs of deer, elk, and buffaloes. i saw trees where the latter had rubbed their heavy bodies against the bark, till they had completely robbed the tree of its garment. we saw several red-shafted woodpeckers, and other birds named before. the buffalo, when hunted on horseback, does _not_ carry its tail erect, as has been represented in books, but close between the legs; but when you see a buffalo bull work its tail sideways in a twisted rolling fashion, _then_ take care of him, as it is a sure sign of his intention to rush against his pursuer's horse, which is very dangerous, both to hunter and steed. as we proceeded i saw two fine white-headed eagles alighting on their nest, where perhaps they had young--and how remarkably late in the season this species does breed here! we also saw a young sandhill crane, and on an open prairie four antelopes a few hundred yards off. alexis tells me that at this season this is a rare occurrence, as the females are generally in the brushwood now; but in this instance the male and three females were on open prairie. we have passed what is called the heart[ ] river, and the square hills, which, of course, are by no means square, but simply more level than the generality of those we have passed for upwards of three weeks. we now saw four barges belonging to our company, and came to, above them, as usual. a mr. kipp, one of the partners, came on board; and harris, squires, and myself had time to write each a short letter to our friends at home. mr. kipp had a peculiar looking crew who appeared not much better than a set of bandits among the pyrenees or the alps; yet they seem to be the very best sort of men for trappers and boatmen. we exchanged four of our men for four of his, as the latter are wanted at the yellowstone. the country appears to harris and to myself as if we had outrun the progress of vegetation, as from the boat we observed oaks scarcely in leaflets, whilst two hundred miles below, and indeed at a much less distance, we saw the same timber in nearly full leaf; flowers are also scarce. a single wolf was seen by some one on deck. nothing can be possibly keener than the senses of hearing and sight, as well as of smell, in the antelope. not one was ever known to jump up close to a hunter; and the very motion of the grasses, as these are wafted by the wind, will keep them awake and on the alert. immediately upon the breaking up of the ice about the mandan village, three buffaloes were seen floating down on a large cake; they were seen by mr. primeau from his post, and again from fort pierre. how much further the poor beasts travelled, no one can tell. it happens not infrequently, when the river is entirely closed in with ice, that some hundreds of buffaloes attempt to cross; their aggregate enormous weight forces the ice to break, and the whole of the gang are drowned, as it is impossible for these animals to climb over the surrounding sharp edges of the ice. we have seen not less than three nests of white-headed eagles this day. we are fast ashore about sixteen miles below the mandan villages, and will, in all probability, reach there to-morrow morning at an early hour. it is raining yet, and the day has been a most unpleasant one. _june , wednesday._ we had a vile night of rain, and wind from the northeast, which is still going on, and likely to continue the whole of this blessed day. yesterday, when we had a white frost, ice was found in the kettles of mr. kipp's barges. we reached fort clark[ ] and the mandan villages at half-past seven this morning. great guns were fired from the fort and from the "omega," as our captain took the guns from the "trapper" at fort pierre. the site of this fort appears a good one, though it is placed considerably below the mandan village. we saw some small spots cultivated, where corn, pumpkins, and beans are grown. the fort and village are situated on the high bank, rising somewhat to the elevation of a hill. the mandan mud huts are very far from looking poetical, although mr. catlin has tried to render them so by placing them in regular rows, and all of the same size and form, which is by no means the case. but different travellers have different eyes! we saw more indians than at any previous time since leaving st. louis; and it is possible that there are a hundred huts, made of mud, all looking like so many potato winter-houses in the eastern states. as soon as we were near the shore, every article that could conveniently be carried off was placed under lock and key, and our division door was made fast, as well as those of our own rooms. even the axes and poles were put by. our captain told us that last year they stole his cap and his shot-pouch and horn, and that it was through the interference of the first chief that he recovered his cap and horn; but that a squaw had his leather belt, and would not give it up. the appearance of these poor, miserable devils, as we approached the shore, was wretched enough. there they stood in the pelting rain and keen wind, covered with buffalo robes, red blankets, and the like, some partially and most curiously besmeared with mud; and as they came on board, and we shook hands with each of them, i felt a clamminess that rendered the ceremony most repulsive. their legs and naked feet were covered with mud. they looked at me with apparent curiosity, perhaps on account of my beard, which produced the same effect at fort pierre. they all looked very poor; and our captain says they are the _ne plus ultra_ of thieves. it is said there are nearly three thousand men, women, and children that, during winter, cram themselves into these miserable hovels. harris and i walked to the fort about nine o'clock. the walking was rascally, passing through mud and water the whole way. the yard of the fort itself was as bad. we entered mr. chardon's own room, crawled up a crazy ladder, and in a low garret i had the great pleasure of seeing alive the swift or kit fox which he has given to me. it ran swiftly from one corner to another, and, when approached, growled somewhat in the manner of a common fox. mr. chardon told me that good care would be taken of it until our return, that it would be chained to render it more gentle, and that i would find it an easy matter to take it along. i sincerely hope so. seeing a remarkably fine skin of a large cross fox[ ] which i wished to buy, it was handed over to me. after this, mr. chardon asked one of the indians to take us into the village, and particularly to show us the "medicine lodge." we followed our guide through mud and mire, even into the lodge. we found this to be, in general terms, like all the other lodges, only larger, measuring twenty-three yards in diameter, with a large squarish aperture in the centre of the roof, some six or seven feet long by about four wide. we had entered this curiosity shop by pushing aside a wet elk skin stretched on four sticks. looking around, i saw a number of calabashes, eight or ten otter skulls, two very large buffalo skulls with the horns on, evidently of great age, and some sticks and other magical implements with which none but a "great medicine man" is acquainted. during my survey there sat, crouched down on his haunches, an indian wrapped in a dirty blanket, with only his filthy head peeping out. our guide spoke to him; but he stirred not. again, at the foot of one of the posts that support the central portion of this great room, lay a parcel that i took for a bundle of buffalo robes; but it moved presently, and from beneath it half arose the emaciated body of a poor blind indian, whose skin was quite shrivelled; and our guide made us signs that he was about to die. we all shook both hands with him; and he pressed our hands closely and with evident satisfaction. he had his pipe and tobacco pouch by him, and soon lay down again. we left this abode of mysteries, as i was anxious to see the interior of one of the common huts around; and again our guide led us through mud and mire to his own lodge, which we entered in the same way as we had done the other. all these lodges have a sort of portico that leads to the door, and on the tops of most of them i observed buffalo skulls. this lodge contained the whole family of our guide--several women and children, and another man, perhaps a son-in-law or a brother. all these, except the man, were on the outer edge of the lodge, crouching on the ground, some suckling children; and at nearly equal distances apart were placed berths, raised about two feet above the ground, made of leather, and with square apertures for the sleepers or occupants to enter. the man of whom i have spoken was lying down in one of these, which was all open in front. i walked up to him, and, after disturbing his happy slumbers, shook hands with him; he made signs for me to sit down; and after harris and i had done so, he rose, squatted himself near us, and, getting out a large spoon made of boiled buffalo horn, handed it to a young girl, who brought a great rounded wooden bowl filled with pemmican, mixed with corn and some other stuff. i ate a mouthful or so of it, and found it quite palatable; and harris and the rest then ate of it also. bell was absent; we had seen nothing of him since we left the boat. this lodge, as well as the other, was dirty with water and mud; but i am told that in dry weather they are kept cleaner, and much cleaning do they need, most truly. a round, shallow hole was dug in the centre for the fire; and from the roof descended over this a chain, by the aid of which they do their cooking, the utensil being attached to the chain when wanted. as we returned towards the fort, i gave our guide a piece of tobacco, and he appeared well pleased. he followed us on board, and as he peeped in my room, and saw the dried and stuffed specimens we have, he evinced a slight degree of curiosity. our captain, mr. chardon, and our men have been busily engaged in putting ashore that portion of the cargo designed for this fort, which in general appearance might be called a poor miniature representation of fort pierre. the whole country around was overgrown with "lamb's quarters" (_chenopòdium album_), which i have no doubt, if boiled, would take the place of spinach in this wild and, to my eyes, miserable country, the poetry of which lies in the imagination of those writers who have described the "velvety prairies" and "enchanted castles" (of mud), so common where we now are. we observed a considerable difference in the color of these indians, who, by the way, are almost all riccarees; many appeared, and in fact are, redder than others; they are lank, rather tall, and very alert, but, as i have said before, all look poor and dirty. after dinner we went up the muddy bank again to look at the corn-fields, as the small patches that are meanly cultivated are called. we found poor, sickly looking corn about two inches high, that had been represented to us this morning as full six inches high. we followed the prairie, a very extensive one, to the hills, and there found a deep ravine, sufficiently impregnated with saline matter to answer the purpose of salt water for the indians to boil their corn and pemmican, clear and clean; but they, as well as the whites at the fort, resort to the muddy missouri for their drinking water, the only fresh water at hand. not a drop of spirituous liquor has been brought to this place for the last two years; and there can be no doubt that on this account the indians have become more peaceable than heretofore, though now and then a white man is murdered, and many horses are stolen. as we walked over the plain, we saw heaps of earth thrown up to cover the poor mandans who died of the small-pox. these mounds in many instances appear to contain the remains of several bodies and, perched on the top, lies, pretty generally, the rotting skull of a buffalo. indeed, the skulls of the buffaloes seem as if a kind of relation to these most absurdly superstitious and ignorant beings. i could not hear a word of the young grizzly bear of which mr. chardon had spoken to me. he gave me his buffalo head-dress and other trifles--as he was pleased to call them; all of which will prove more or less interesting and curious to you when they reach minniesland. he presented squires with a good hunting shirt and a few other things, and to all of us, presented moccasins. we collected a few round cacti;[ ] and i saw several birds that looked much the worse for the cold and wet weather we have had these last few days. our boat has been thronged with indians ever since we have tied to the shore; and it is with considerable difficulty and care that we can stop them from intruding into our rooms when we are there. we found many portions of skulls lying on the ground, which, perhaps, did at one period form the circles of them spoken of by catlin. all around the village is filthy beyond description. our captain tells us that no matter what weather we may have to-morrow, he will start at daylight, even if he can only go across the river, to get rid of these wolfish-looking vagabonds of indians. i sincerely hope that we may have a fair day and a long run, so that the air around us may once more be pure and fresh from the hand of nature. after the riccarees had taken possession of this mandan village, the remains of that once powerful tribe removed about three miles up the river, and there have now fifteen or twenty huts, containing, of course, only that number of families. during the worst periods of the epidemic which swept over this village with such fury, many became maniacs, rushed to the missouri, leaped into its turbid waters, and were seen no more. mr. primeau, wife, and children, as well as another half-breed, have gone to the fort, and are to remain there till further orders. the fort is in a poor condition, roofs leaking, etc. whilst at the fort this afternoon, i was greatly surprised to see a tall, athletic indian thrashing the dirty rascals about mr. chardon's door most severely; but i found on inquiry that he was called "the soldier,"[ ] and that he had authority to do so whenever the indians intruded or congregated in the manner this _canaille_ had done. after a while the same tall fellow came on board with his long stick, and immediately began belaboring the fellows on the lower guards; the latter ran off over the planks, and scrambled up the muddy banks as if so many affrighted buffaloes. since then we have been comparatively quiet; but i hope they will all go off, as the captain is going to put the boat from the shore, to the full length of our spars. the wind has shifted to the northward, and the atmosphere has been so chilled that a house swallow was caught, benumbed with cold, and brought to me by our captain. harris, bell, and i saw a cliff swallow take refuge on board; but this was not caught. we have seen say's flycatcher, the ground finch, cow buntings, and a few other birds. one of the agents arrived this afternoon from the gros ventre, or minnetaree village, about twelve miles above us. he is represented as a remarkably brave man, and he relates some strange adventures of his prowess. several _great warriors_ have condescended to shake me by the hand; their very touch is disgusting--it will indeed be a deliverance to get rid of all this "indian poetry." we are, nevertheless, to take a few to the yellowstone. alexis has his wife, who is, in fact, a good-looking young woman; an old patroon, provost, takes one of his daughters along; and we have, besides, several red-skinned single gentlemen. we were assured that the northern parts of the hills, that form a complete curtain to the vast prairie on which we have walked this afternoon, are still adorned with patches of snow that fell there during last winter. it is now nine o'clock, but before i go to rest i cannot resist giving you a description of the curious exhibition that we have had on board, from a numerous lot of indians of the first class, say some forty or fifty. they ranged themselves along the sides of the large cabin, squatting on the floor. coffee had been prepared for the whole party, and hard sea-biscuit likewise. the coffee was first given to each of them, and afterwards the biscuits, and i had the honor of handing the latter to the row on one side of the boat; a box of tobacco was opened and laid on the table. the man who came from the gros ventres this afternoon proved to be an excellent interpreter; and after the captain had delivered his speech to him, he spoke loudly to the group, and explained the purport of the captain's speech. they grunted their approbation frequently, and were, no doubt, pleased. two individuals (indians) made their appearance highly decorated, with epaulets on the shoulders, red clay on blue uniforms, three cocks' plumes in their head-dress, rich moccasins, leggings, etc. these are men who, though in the employ of the opposition company, act truly as friends; but who, meantime, being called "braves," never grunted, bowed, or shook hands with any of us. supper over and the tobacco distributed, the whole body arose simultaneously, and each and every one of these dirty wretches we had all to shake by the hand. the two braves sat still until all the rest had gone ashore, and then retired as majestically as they had entered, not even shaking hands with our good-humored captain. i am told that this performance takes place once every year, on the passing of the company's boats. i need not say that the coffee and the two biscuits apiece were gobbled down in less than no time. the tobacco, which averaged about two pounds to each man, was hid in their robes or blankets for future use. two of the indians, who must have been of the highest order, and who distributed the "rank weed," were nearly naked; one had on only a breech-clout and one legging, the other was in no better case. they are now all ashore except one or more who are going with us to the yellowstone; and i will now go to my rest. though i have said "good-night," i have arisen almost immediately, and i must write on, for we have other scenes going on both among the trappers below and some of the people above. many indians, squaws as well as men, are bartering and trading, and keep up such a babble that harris and i find sleep impossible; needless to say, the squaws who are on board are of the lowest grade of morality. _june , thursday._ this morning was fair and cold, as you see by the range of the thermometer, ° to °. we started at a very early hour, and breakfasted before five, on account of the village of gros ventres, where our captain had to stop. we passed a few lodges belonging to the tribe of the poor mandans, about all that remained. i only counted eight, but am told there are twelve. the village of the gros ventres (minnetarees) has been cut off from the bank of the river by an enormous sand-bar, now overgrown with willows and brush, and we could only see the american flag flying in the cool breeze. two miles above this, however, we saw an increasing body of indians, for the prairie was sprinkled with small parties, on horse and on foot. the first who arrived fired a salute of small guns, and we responded with our big gun. they had an abundance of dogs harnessed to take wood back to the village, and their yells and fighting were severe upon our ears. some forty or more of the distinguished blackguards came on board; and we had to close our doors as we did yesterday. after a short period they were feasted as last evening; and speeches, coffee, and tobacco, as well as some gunpowder, were given them, which they took away in packs, to be divided afterward. we took one more passenger, and lost our interpreter, who is a trader with the minnetarees. the latter are by no means as fine-looking a set of men as those we have seen before, and i observed none of that whiteness of skin among them. there were numbers of men, women, and children. we saw a crippled and evidently tame wolf, and two indians, following us on the top of the hills. we saw two swans on a bar, and a female elk, with her young fawn, for a few minutes. i wished that we had been ashore, as i know full well that the mother would not leave her young; and the mother killed, the young one would have been easily caught alive. we are now stopping for the night, and our men are cutting wood. we have done this, i believe, four times to-day, and have run upward of sixty miles. at the last wood-cutting place, a young leveret was started by the men, and after a short race, the poor thing squatted, and was killed by the stroke of a stick. it proved to be the young of _lepus townsendii_ [_l. campestris_], large enough to have left the mother, and weighing rather more than a pound. it is a very beautiful specimen. the eyes are very large, and the iris pure amber color. its hair is tightly, but beautifully curled. its measurements are as follows [_omitted_]. bell will make a fine skin of it to-morrow morning. we have had all sorts of stories related to us; but mr. kipp, who has been in the country for twenty-two years, is evidently a person of truth, and i expect a good deal of information from him. our captain told us that on a previous voyage some indians asked him if, "when the great medicine" (meaning the steamer) "was tired, he gave it whiskey." mr. sire laughed, and told them he did. "how much?" was the query. "a barrelful, to be sure!" the poor wretches at first actually believed him, and went off contented, but were naturally angry at being undeceived on a later occasion. i have now some hope of finding a young of the antelope alive at fort union, as mr. kipp left one there about ten days ago. i am now going to bed, though our axemen and "charettes" are still going; and i hope i may not be called up to-morrow morning, to be ready for breakfast at half-past four. harris and bell went off with alexis. bell fired at a bird, and a large wolf immediately made its appearance. this is always the case in this country; when you shoot an animal and hide yourself, you may see, in less than half an hour, from ten to thirty of these hungry rascals around the carcass, and have fine fun shooting at them. we have had a windy day, but a good run on the whole. i hope to-morrow may prove propitious, and that we shall reach fort union in five more days. _june , friday._ thermometer °, °, °. we had a heavy white frost last night, but we have had a fine, pleasant day on the whole, and to me a most interesting one. we passed the little missouri[ ] (the real one) about ten this morning. it is a handsome stream, that runs all the way from the black hills, one of the main spurs of the mighty rocky mountains. we saw three elks swimming across it, and the number of this fine species of deer that are about us now is almost inconceivable. we have heard of burning springs, which we intend to examine on our way down. we started a goose from the shore that had evidently young ones; she swam off, beating the water with wings half extended, until nearly one hundred yards off. a shot from a rifle was fired at her, and happily missed the poor thing; she afterwards lowered her neck, sank her body, and with the tip of the bill only above water, kept swimming away from us till out of sight. afterwards one of the trappers shot at two geese with two young ones. we landed at four o'clock, and harris and bell shot some bay-winged buntings and _emberiza pallida_, whilst sprague and i went up to the top of the hills, bounding the beautiful prairie, by which we had stopped to repair something about the engine. we gathered some handsome lupines, of two different species, and many other curious plants. from this elevated spot we could see the wilderness to an immense distance; the missouri looked as if only a brook, and our steamer a very small one indeed. at this juncture we saw two men running along the shore upwards, and i supposed they had seen an elk or something else, of which they were in pursuit. meantime, gazing around, we saw a large lake, where we are told that ducks, geese, and swans breed in great numbers; this we intend also to visit when we come down. at this moment i heard the report of a gun from the point where the men had been seen, and when we reached the steamboat, we were told that a buffalo had been killed. from the deck i saw a man swimming round the animal; he got on its side, and floated down the stream with it. the captain sent a parcel of men with a rope; the swimmer fastened this round the neck of the buffalo, and with his assistance, for he now swam all the way, the poor beast was brought alongside; and as the tackle had been previously fixed, it was hauled up on the fore deck. sprague took its measurements with me, which are as follows: length from nose to root of tail, feet; height of fore shoulder to hoof, ft. ½ in.; height at the rump to hoof, ft. in. the head was cut off, as well as one fore and one hind foot. the head is so full of symmetry, and so beautiful, that i shall have a drawing of it to-morrow, as well as careful ones of the feet. whilst the butchers were at work, i was highly interested to see one of our indians cutting out the milk-bag of the cow and eating it, quite fresh and raw, in pieces somewhat larger than a hen's egg. one of the stomachs was partially washed in a bucket of water, and an indian swallowed a large portion of this. mr. chardon brought the remainder on the upper deck and ate it uncleaned. i had a piece well cleaned and tasted it; to my utter astonishment, it was very good, but the idea was repulsive to me; besides which, i am not a meat-eater, as you know, except when other provisions fail. the animal was in good condition; and the whole carcass was cut up and dispersed among the men below, reserving the nicer portions for the cabin. this was accomplished with great rapidity; the blood was washed away in a trice, and half an hour afterwards no one would have known that a buffalo had been dressed on deck. we now met with a somewhat disagreeable accident; in starting and backing off the boat, our yawl was run beneath the boat; this strained it, and sprung one of the planks so much that, when we landed on the opposite side of the river, we had to haul it on shore, and turn it over for examination; it was afterwards taken to the forecastle to undergo repairs to-morrow, as it is often needed. whilst cutting wood was going on, we went ashore. bell shot at two buffaloes out of eight, and killed both; he would also have shot a wolf, had he had more bullets. harris saw, and shot at, an elk; but he knows little about still hunting, and thereby lost a good chance. a negro fire-tender went off with his rifle and shot two of townsend's hares. one was cut in two by his ball, and he left it on the ground; the other was shot near the rump, and i have it now hanging before me; and, let me tell you, that i never before saw so beautiful an animal of the same family. my drawing will be a good one; it is a fine specimen, an old male. i have been hearing much of the prevalence of scurvy, from living so constantly on dried flesh, also about the small-pox, which destroyed such numbers of the indians. among the mandans, riccarées, and gros ventres, hundreds died in , only a few surviving; and the assiniboins were nearly exterminated. indeed it is said that in the various attacks of this scourge , indians have perished. this last visitation of the dread disease has never before been related by a traveller,[ ] and i will write more of it when at fort union. it is now twenty minutes to midnight; and, with walking and excitement of one kind or another, i am ready for bed. alexis and another hunter will be off in an hour on a hunt. _june , saturday._ i rose at half-past three this morning. it was clear and balmy; our men were cutting wood, and we went off shooting. we saw a female elk that was loath to leave the neighborhood; and bell shot a sharp-tailed grouse, which we ate at our supper and found pretty good, though sadly out of season. as we were returning to the boat, alexis and his companion went off after buffaloes that we saw grazing peaceably on the bank near the river. whilst they were shooting at the buffaloes, and almost simultaneously, the fawn of the female elk was seen lying asleep under the bank. it rose as we approached, and bell shot at it, but missed; and with its dam it went briskly off. it was quite small, looking almost red, and was beautifully spotted with light marks of the color of the virginia deer's fawn. i would have given five dollars for it, as i saw it skipping over the prairie. at this moment alexis came running, and told the captain they had killed two buffaloes; and almost all the men went off at once with ropes, to bring the poor animals on board, according to custom. one, however, had been already dressed. the other had its head cut off, and the men were tugging at the rope, hauling the beast along over the grass. mr. chardon was seated on it; until, when near the boat, the rope gave way, and the bull rolled over into a shallow ravine. it was soon on board, however, and quickly skinned and cut up. the two hunters had been absent three-quarters of an hour. at the report of the guns, two wolves made their appearance, and no doubt fed at leisure on the offal left from the first buffalo. harris saw a gang of elks, consisting of between thirty and forty. we have passed a good number of wild geese with goslings; the geese were shot at, notwithstanding my remonstrances on account of the young, but fortunately all escaped. we passed some beautiful scenery when about the middle of the "bend," and almost opposite had the pleasure of seeing five mountain rams, or bighorns, on the summit of a hill. i looked at them through the telescope; they stood perfectly still for some minutes, then went out of sight, and then again were in view. one of them had very large horns; the rest appeared somewhat smaller. our captain told us that he had seen them at, or very near by, the same place last season, on his way up. we saw many very curious cliffs, but not one answering the drawings engraved for catlin's work. we passed knife river,[ ] _rivière aux couteaux_, and stopped for a short time to take in wood. harris killed a sparrow hawk, and saw several red-shafted woodpeckers. bell was then engaged in saving the head of the buffalo cow, of which i made a drawing, and sprague an outline, notwithstanding the horrible motion of our boat. we passed safely a dangerous chain of rocks extending across the river; we also passed white river;[ ] both the streams i have mentioned are insignificant. the weather was warm, and became cloudy, and it is now raining smartly. we have, however, a good quantity of excellent wood, and have made a good run, say sixty miles. we saw what we supposed to be three grizzly bears, but could not be sure. we saw on the prairie ahead of us some indians, and as we neared them, found them to be assiniboins. there were about ten altogether, men, squaws, and children. the boat was stopped, and a smart-looking, though small-statured man came on board. he had eight plugs of tobacco given him, and was asked to go off; but he talked a vast deal, and wanted powder and ball. he was finally got rid of. during his visit, our gros ventre chief and our sioux were both in my own cabin. the first having killed three of that tribe and scalped them, and the sioux having a similar record, they had no wish to meet. a few miles above this we stopped to cut wood. bell and harris went on shore; and we got a white wolf, so old and so poor that we threw it overboard. meantime a fawn elk was observed crossing the river, coming toward our shore; it was shot at twice, but missed; it swam to the shore, but under such a steep bank that it could not get up. alexis, who was told of this, ran down the river bank, reached it, and fastened his suspenders around its neck, but could not get it up the bank. bell had returned, and went to his assistance, but all in vain; the little thing was very strong, and floundered and struggled till it broke the tie, and swam swiftly with the current down the river, and was lost. a slight rope would have secured it to us. this was almost the same spot where the captain caught one alive last season with the yawl; and we could have performed the same feat easily, had not the yawl been on deck undergoing repairs. we pushed off, and very soon saw more indians on the shore, also assiniboins. they had crossed the "bend" below us, and had brought some trifles to trade with us; but our captain passed on, and the poor wretches sat and looked at the "great medicine" in astonishment. shortly after this, we saw a wolf attempting to climb a very steep bank of clay; he fell down thrice, but at last reached the top and disappeared at once. on the opposite shore another wolf was lying down on a sand-bar, like a dog, and might readily have been taken for one. we have stopped for the night at nine o'clock; and i now have done my day's putting-up of memoranda and sketches, intending to enlarge upon much after i return home. i forgot to say that last evening we saw a large herd of buffaloes, with many calves among them; they were grazing quietly on a fine bit of prairie, and we were actually opposite to them and within two hundred yards before they appeared to notice us. they stared, and then started at a handsome canter, suddenly wheeled round, stopped, closed up their ranks, and then passed over a slight knoll, producing a beautiful picturesque view. another thing i forgot to speak of is a place not far below the little missouri, where mr. kipp assured us we should find the remains of a petrified forest, which we hope to see later. _june , sunday._ this day has been tolerably fine, though windy. we have seen an abundance of game, a great number of elks, common virginian deer, mountain rams in two places, and a fine flock of sharp-tailed grouse, that, when they flew off from the ground near us, looked very much like large meadow larks. they were on a prairie bordering a large patch of artemisia, which in the distance presents the appearance of acres of cabbages. we have seen many wolves and some buffaloes. one young bull stood on the brink of a bluff, looking at the boat steadfastly for full five minutes; and as we neared the spot, he waved his tail, and moved off briskly. on another occasion, a young bull that had just landed at the foot of a very steep bluff was slaughtered without difficulty; two shots were fired at it, and the poor thing was killed by a rifle bullet. i was sorry, for we did not stop for it, and its happy life was needlessly ended. i saw near that spot a large hawk, and also a very small tamias, or ground squirrel. harris saw a spermophile, of what species none of us could tell. we have seen many elks swimming the river, and they look almost the size of a well-grown mule. they stared at us, were fired at, at an enormous distance, it is true, and yet stood still. these animals are abundant beyond belief hereabouts. we have seen much remarkably handsome scenery, but nothing at all comparing with catlin's descriptions; his book must, after all, be altogether a humbug. poor devil! i pity him from the bottom of my soul; had he studied, and kept up to the old french proverb that says, "bon renommé vaut mieux que ceinture doré," he might have become an "honest man"--the quintessence of god's works. we did hope to have reached l'eau bourbeux (the muddy river[ ]) this evening, but we are now fast ashore, about six miles below it, about the same distance that we have been told we were ever since shortly after dinner. we have had one event: our boat caught fire, and burned for a few moments near the stern, the effects of the large, hot cinders coming from the chimney; but it was almost immediately put out, thank god! any inattention, with about , lbs. of powder on board, might have resulted in a sad accident. we have decided to write a short letter of thanks to our truly gentlemanly captain, and to present him with a handsome six-barrelled pistol, the only thing we have that may prove of service to him, although i hope he may never need it. sprague drew four figures of the buffalo's foot; and bell and i have packed the whole of our skins. we ran to-day all round the compass, touching every point. the following is a copy of the letter to captain sire, signed by all of us. fort union, mouth of yellowstone, upper missouri, _june th, _. dear sir,--we cannot part with you previous to your return to st. louis, without offering to you our best wishes, and our thanks for your great courtesy, assuring you how highly we appreciate, and feel grateful for, your uniform kindness and gentlemanly deportment to each and all of us. we are most happy to add that our passage to the yellowstone river has been devoid of any material accident, which we can only attribute to the great regularity and constant care with which you have discharged your arduous duties in the difficult navigation of the river. we regret that it is not in our power, at this moment, to offer you a suitable token of our esteem, but hope you will confer on us the favor of accepting at our hands a six-barrelled, silver-mounted pistol, which we sincerely hope and trust you may never have occasion to use in defence of your person. we beg you to consider us, your well-wishers and friends, etc., _fort union, june , monday._ we had a cloudy and showery day, and a high wind besides. we saw many wild geese and ducks with their young. we took in wood at two places, but shot nothing. i saw a wolf giving chase, or driving away four ravens from a sand-bar; but the finest sight of all took place shortly before we came to the mouth of the yellowstone, and that was no less than twenty-two mountain rams and ewes mixed, and amid them one young one only. we came in sight of the fort at five o'clock, and reached it at seven. we passed the opposition fort three miles below this; their flags were hoisted, and ours also. we were saluted from fort union, and we fired guns in return, six in number. the moment we had arrived, the gentlemen of the fort came down on horseback, and appeared quite a cavalcade. i was introduced to mr. culbertson and others, and, of course, the introduction went the rounds. we walked to the fort and drank some first-rate port wine, and returned to the boat at half-past nine o'clock. our captain was pleased with the letter and the pistol. our trip to this place has been the quickest on record, though our boat is the slowest that ever undertook to reach the yellowstone. including all stoppages and detentions, we have made the trip in forty-eight days and seven hours from st. louis. we left st. louis april th, at noon; reaching fort union june th, at seven in the evening. _june , tuesday._ we had a remarkably busy day on board and on shore, but spent much of our time writing letters. i wrote home at great length to john bachman, n. berthoud, and gideon b. smith. we walked to the fort once and back again, and dined on board with our captain and the gentlemen of the fort. we took a ride also in an old wagon, somewhat at the risk of our necks, for we travelled too fast for the nature of what i was told was the road. we slept on board the "omega," probably for the last time. we have been in a complete state of excitement unloading the boat, reloading her with a new cargo, and we were all packing and arranging our effects, as well as writing letters. after dinner our belongings were taken to the landing of the fort in a large keel-boat, with the last of the cargo. the room which we are to occupy during our stay at this place is rather small and low, with only one window, on the west side. however, we shall manage well enough, i dare say, for the few weeks we are to be here. this afternoon i had a good deal of conversation with mr. culbertson, and found him well disposed to do all he can for us; and no one can ask for more politeness than is shown us. our captain having invited us to remain with him to-night, we have done so, and will breakfast with him to-morrow morning. it is his intention to leave as early as he can settle his business here. all the trappers are gone to the fort, and in a few weeks will be dispersed over different and distant parts of the wilderness. the filth they had left below has been scraped and washed off, as well indeed as the whole boat, of which there was need enough. i have copied this journal and send it to st. louis by our good captain; also one box of skins, one pair elk horns, and one bundle of wolf and other skins. _june , wednesday._ at six this morning all hands rose early; the residue of the cargo for st. louis was placed on board. our captain told us time was up, and we all started for the fort on foot, quite a short distance. having deposited our guns there, bell, squires, and i walked off to the wooding-place, where our captain was to remain a good while, and it was there we should bid him adieu. we found this walk one of the worst, the very worst, upon which we ever trod; full of wild rose-bushes, tangled and matted with vines, burs, and thorns of all sorts, and encumbered by thousands of pieces of driftwood, some decayed, some sunk in the earth, while others were entangled with the innumerable roots exposed by floods and rains. we saw nothing but a few ravens. when nearly half way, we heard the trampling of galloping horses, and loud hallooings, which we found to proceed from the wagon of which we have spoken, which, loaded with men, passed us at a speed one would have thought impossible over such ground. soon after we had a heavy shower of rain, but reached the boat in good order. harris and sprague, who had followed us, came afterwards. i was pretty hot, and rather tired. the boat took on wood for half an hour after we arrived; then the captain shook us all by the hand most heartily, and we bade him god speed. i parted from him really with sorrow, for i have found him all i could wish during the whole passage; and his position is no sinecure, to say naught of the rabble under his control. all the wood-cutters who remained walked off by the road; and we went back in the wagon over a bad piece of ground--much easier, however, than returning on foot. as we reached the prairies, we travelled faster, and passed by the late garden of the fort, which had been abandoned on account of the thieving of the men attached to the opposition company, at fort mortimer. harris caught a handsome snake, now in spirits. we saw lazuli finches and several other sorts of small birds. upon reaching the fort, from which many great guns were fired as salutes to the steamer, which were loudly returned, i was amused at the terror the firing occasioned to the squaws and their children, who had arrived in great numbers the previous evening; they howled, fell down on the earth, or ran in every direction. all the dogs started off, equally frightened, and made for the distant hills. dinner not being ready, three of us took a walk, and saw a good number of tamias holes, many cacti of two sorts, and some plants hitherto uncollected by us. we saw a few arctic ground finches and two wolves. after dinner mr. culbertson told us that if a wolf made its appearance on the prairie near the fort, he would give it chase on horseback, and bring it to us, alive or dead; and he was as good as his word. it was so handsomely executed, that i will relate the whole affair. when i saw the wolf (a white one), it was about a quarter of a mile off, alternately standing and trotting; the horses were about one-half the distance off. a man was started to drive these in; and i thought the coursers never would reach the fort, much less become equipped so as to overhaul the wolf. we were all standing on the platform of the fort, with our heads only above the palisades; and i was so fidgety that i ran down twice to tell the hunters that the wolf was making off. mr. culbertson, however, told me he would see it did not make off; and in a few moments he rode out of the fort, gun in hand, dressed only in shirt and breeches. he threw his cap off within a few yards, and suddenly went off with the swiftness of a jockey bent on winning a race. the wolf trotted on, and ever and anon stopped to gaze at the rider and the horse; till, finding out the meaning (too late, alas! for him), he galloped off with all his might; but the horse was too swift for the poor cur, as we saw the rider gaining ground rapidly. mr. culbertson fired his gun off as a signal, i was told, that the wolf would be brought in; and the horse, one would think, must have been of the same opinion, for although the wolf had now reached the hills, and turned into a small ravine, the moment it had entered it, the horse dashed after, the sound of the gun came on the ear, the wolf was picked up by mr. culbertson without dismounting, hardly slackening his pace, and thrown across the saddle. the rider returned as swiftly as he had gone, wet through with a smart shower that had fallen meantime; and the poor wolf was placed at my disposal. the time taken from the start to the return in the yard did not exceed twenty minutes, possibly something less. two other men who had started at the same time rode very swiftly also, and skirted the hills to prevent the wolf's escape; and one of them brought in mr. c.'s gun, which he had thrown on the ground as he picked up the wolf to place it on the saddle. the beast was not quite dead when it arrived, and its jaws told of its dying agonies; it scratched one of mr. c.'s fingers sorely; but we are assured that such things so often occur that nothing is thought of it. and now a kind of sham buffalo hunt was proposed, accompanied by a bet of a suit of clothes, to be given to the rider who would load and fire the greatest number of shots in a given distance. the horses were mounted as another wolf was seen trotting off towards the hills, and mr. culbertson again told us he would bring it in. this time, however, he was mistaken; the wolf was too far off to be overtaken, and it reached the hill-tops, made its way through a deep ravine full of large rocks, and was then given up. mr. culbertson was seen coming down without his quarry. he joined the riders, started with his gun empty, loaded in a trice, and fired the first shot; then the three riders came on at full speed, loading and firing first on one side, then on the other of the horse, as if after buffaloes. mr. c. fired eleven times before he reached the fort, and within less than half a mile's run; the others fired once less, each. we were all delighted to see these feats. no one was thrown off, though the bridles hung loose, and the horses were under full gallop all the time. mr. culbertson's mare, which is of the full blackfoot indian breed, is about five years old, and could not be bought for four hundred dollars. i should like to see some of the best english hunting gentlemen hunt in the like manner. we are assured that after dusk, or as soon as the gates of the fort are shut, the wolves come near enough to be killed from the platform, as these beasts oftentimes come to the trough where the hogs are fed daily. we have seen no less than eight this day from the fort, moving as leisurely as if a hundred miles off. a heavy shower put off running a race; but we are to have a regular buffalo hunt, where i must act only as a spectator; for, alas! i am now too near seventy to run and load whilst going at full gallop. two gentlemen arrived this evening from the crow indian nation; they crossed to our side of the river, and were introduced at once. one is mr. chouteau, son of auguste chouteau, and the other a scotchman, mr. james murray, at whose father's farm, on the tweed, we all stopped on our return from the highlands of scotland. they told us that the snow and ice was yet three feet deep near the mountains, and an abundance over the whole of the mountains themselves. they say they have made a good collection of robes, but that beavers are very scarce. this day has been spent altogether in talking, sight-seeing, and enjoyment. our room was small, dark, and dirty, and crammed with our effects. mr. culbertson saw this, and told me that to-morrow he would remove us to a larger, quieter, and better one. i was glad to hear this, as it would have been very difficult to draw, write, or work in; and yet it is the very room where the prince de neuwied resided for two months, with his secretary and bird-preserver. the evening was cloudy and cold; we had had several showers of rain since our bath in the bushes this morning, and i felt somewhat fatigued. harris and i made our beds up; squires fixed some buffalo robes, of which nine had been given us, on a long old bedstead, never knowing it had been the couch of a foreign prince;[ ] bell and sprague settled themselves opposite to us on more buffalo skins, and night closed in. but although we had lain down, it was impossible for us to sleep; for above us was a drunken man affected with a _goître_, and not only was his voice rough and loud, but his words were continuous. his oaths, both in french and english, were better fitted for the five points in new york, or st. giles of london, than anywhere among christians. he roared, laughed like a maniac, and damned himself and the whole creation. i thought that time would quiet him, but, no! for now clarionets, fiddles, and a drum were heard in the dining-room, where indeed they had been playing at different times during the afternoon, and our friend above began swearing at this as if quite fresh. we had retired for the night; but an invitation was sent us to join the party in the dining-room. squires was up in a moment, and returned to say that a ball was on foot, and that "all the beauty and fashion" would be skipping about in less than no time. there was no alternative; we all got up, and in a short time were amid the _beau monde_ of these parts. several squaws, attired in their best, were present, with all the guests, _engagés_, clerks, etc. mr. culbertson played the fiddle very fairly; mr. guèpe the clarionet, and mr. chouteau the drum, as if brought up in the army of the great napoleon. cotillions and reels were danced with much energy and apparent enjoyment, and the company dispersed about one o'clock. we retired for the second time, and now occurred a dispute between the drunkard and another man; but, notwithstanding this, i was so wearied that i fell asleep. _june , thursday._ we all rose late, as one might expect; the weather was quite cool for the season, and it was cloudy besides. we did nothing else than move our effects to an upstairs room. the mackinaw boats arrived at the fort about noon, and were unloaded in a precious short time; and all hands being called forth, the empty boats themselves were dragged to a ravine, turned over, and prepared for calking previous to their next voyage up or down, as the case might be. the gentlemen from these boats gave me a fine pair of deer's horns; and to mr. culbertson a young gray wolf, and also a young badger, which they had brought in. it snarled and snapped, and sometimes grunted not unlike a small pig, but did not bite. it moved somewhat slowly, and its body looked flattish all the time; the head has all the markings of an adult, though it is a young of the present spring. bell and harris hunted a good while, but procured only a lazuli finch and a few other birds. bell skinned the wolf, and we put its hide in the barrel with the head of the buffalo cow, etc. i showed the plates of the quadrupeds to many persons, and i hope with success, as they were pleased and promised me much. to-morrow morning a man called black harris is to go off after antelopes for me; and the hunters for the men of the fort and themselves; and perhaps some of the young men may go with one or both parties. i heard many stories about wolves; particularly i was interested in one told by mr. kipp, who assured us he had caught upwards of one hundred with baited fish-hooks. many other tales were told us; but i shall not forget them, so will not write them down here, but wait till hereafter. after shooting at a mark with a bow made of elk horn, mr. kipp presented it to me. we saw several wolves, but none close to the fort. both the common crow and raven are found here; bell killed one of the former. _june , friday._ the weather was cool this morning, with the wind due east. i drew the young gray wolf, and sprague made an outline of it. bell, provost, alexis, and black harris went over the river to try to procure antelopes; bell and alexis returned to dinner without any game, although they had seen dozens of the animals wanted, and also some common deer. the two others, who travelled much farther, returned at dusk with empty stomachs and a young fawn of the common deer. harris and i took a long walk after my drawing was well towards completion, and shot a few birds. the buffalo, old and young, are fond of rolling on the ground in the manner of horses, and turn quite over; this is done not only to clean themselves, but also to rub off the loose old coat of hair and wool that hangs about their body like so many large, dirty rags. those about the fort are gentle, but will not allow a person to touch their bodies, not even the young calves of the last spring. our young badger is quite fond of lying on his back, and then sleeps. his general appearance and gait remind me of certain species of armadillo. there was a good deal of talking and jarring about the fort; some five or six men came from the opposition company, and would have been roughly handled had they not cleared off at the beginning of trouble. arrangements were made for loading the mackinaw barges, and it is intended that they shall depart for st. louis, leaving on sunday morning. we shall all be glad when these boats with their men are gone, as we are now full to the brim. harris has a new batch of patients, and enjoys the work of physician. _june , saturday._ warm and fair, with the river rising fast. the young fawn was hung up, and i drew it. by dinner-time sprague had well prepared the gray wolf, and i put him to work at the fawn. bell went shooting, and brought five or six good birds. the song of the lazuli finch so much resembles that of the indigo bird that it would be difficult to distinguish them by the note alone. they keep indifferently among the low bushes and high trees. he also brought a few specimens of _spermophilus hoodii_ of richardson,[ ] of which the measurements were taken. wolves often retreat into holes made by the sinking of the earth near ravines, burrowing in different directions at the bottoms of these. i sent provost early this morning to the opposition fort, to inquire whether mr. cutting had written letters about us, and also to see a fine kit fox, brought in one of their boats from the yellowstone. much has been done in the way of loading the mackinaw boats. bell has skinned the young wolf, and sprague will perhaps finish preparing the fawn. the hunters who went out yesterday morning have returned, and brought back a quantity of fresh buffalo meat. squires brought many fragments of a petrified tree. no antelopes were shot, and i feel uneasy on this score. provost returned and told me mr. cutting's men with the letters had not arrived, but that they were expected hourly. the kit fox had been suffocated to death by some dozens of bundles of buffalo robes falling on it, while attached to a ladder, and had been thrown out and eaten by the wolves or the dogs. this evening, quite late, i shot a fine large gray wolf. i sincerely hope to see some antelopes to-morrow, as well as other animals. _june , sunday._ this day has been a beautiful, as well as a prosperous one to us. at daylight provost and alexis went off hunting across the river. immediately after an early breakfast, mr. murray and three mackinaw boats started for st. louis. after the boats were fairly out of sight, and the six-pounders had been twice fired, and the great flag floated in the stiff southwesterly breeze, four other hunters went off over the river, and squires was one of them. i took a walk with mr. culbertson and mr. chardon, to look at some old, decaying, and simply constructed coffins, placed on trees about ten feet above ground, for the purpose of finding out in what manner, and when it would be best for us to take away the skulls, some six or seven in number, all assiniboin indians. it was decided that we would do so at dusk, or nearly at dark. my two companions assured me that they never had walked so far from the fort unarmed as on this occasion, and said that even a _single_ indian with a gun and a bow might have attacked us; but if several were together, they would pay no attention to us, as that might be construed to mean war. this is a good lesson, however, and one i shall not forget. about ten o'clock alexis came to me and said that he had killed two male antelopes, and provost one deer, and that he must have a cart to bring the whole in. this was arranged in a few minutes; and harris and i went across the river on a ferry flat, taking with us a cart and a most excellent mule. alexis' wife went across also to gather gooseberries. the cart being made ready, we mounted it, i sitting down, and harris standing up. we took an old abandoned road, filled with fallen timber and bushes innumerable; but alexis proved to be an excellent driver, and the mule the most active and the strongest i ever saw. we jogged on through thick and thin for about two miles, when we reached a prairie covered with large bushes of artemisia (called here "herbe sainte"), and presently, cutting down a slope, came to where lay our antelope, a young male, and the skin of the deer, while its carcass hung on a tree. these were placed in the cart, and we proceeded across the prairie for the other antelope, which had been tied by the horns to a large bush of artemisia, being alive when alexis left it; but it was now dead and stiff. i looked at its eyes at once. this was a fine old male with its coat half shed. i was sorry enough it was dead. we placed it by its relation in the cart, jumped in, and off we went at a good round trot, not returning to the road, but across the prairie and immediately under the clay hills where the antelope go after they have fed in the prairie below from early dawn until about eight o'clock; there are of course exceptions to the contrary. part of the way we travelled between ponds made by the melting of the snows, and having on them a few ducks and a black tern, all of which no doubt breed here. after we had passed the last pond, we saw three antelopes several hundred yards to the lee of us; the moment they perceived us alexis said they would be off; and so they were, scampering towards the hills until out of sight. we now entered the woods, and almost immediately harris saw the head of a deer about fifty yards distant. alexis, who had only a rifle, would have shot him from the cart, had the mule stood still; but as this was not the case, alexis jumped down, took a long, deliberate aim, the gun went off, and the deer fell dead in its tracks. it proved to be a doe with very large milk-bags, and doubtless her fawn or fawns were in the vicinity; but alexis could not find them in the dense bush. he and harris dragged her to the cart, where i stood holding the mule. we reached the ferry, where the boat had awaited our return, placed the cart on board without touching the game; and, on landing at the fort, the good mule pulled it up the steep bank into the yard. we now had two antelopes and two deer that had been killed before noon. immediately after dinner, the head of the old male was cut off, and i went to work outlining it; first small, with the camera, and then by squares. bell was engaged in skinning both the bodies; but i felt vexed that he had carelessly suffered the gray wolf to be thrown into the river. i spoke to him on the subject of never losing a specimen till we were quite sure it would not be needed; and i feel well assured he is so honest a man and so good a worker that what i said will last for all time. while looking at the deer shot this day, harris and i thought that their tails were very long, and that the animals themselves were very much larger than those we have to the eastward; and we all concluded to have more killed, and examine and measure closely, as this one may be an exception. it was unfortunate we did not speak of this an hour sooner, as two deer had been killed on this side the river by a hunter belonging to the fort; but mr. culbertson assured me that we should have enough of them in a few days. i am told that the rocky mountain rams lost most of their young during the hard frosts of the early spring; for, like those of the common sheep, the lambs are born as early as the st of march, and hence their comparative scarcity. harris and bell have shot a handsome white wolf, a female, from the ramparts; having both fired together, it is not known which shot was the fatal one. bell wounded another in the leg, as there were several marauders about; but the rascal made off. _june , monday._ it began raining early this morning; by "early," i mean fully two hours before daylight. the first news i heard was from mr. chardon, who told me he had left a wolf feeding out of the pig's trough, which is immediately under the side of the fort. the next was from mr. larpenteur,[ ] who opens the gates when the bell rings at sunrise, who told us he saw seven wolves within thirty yards, or less, of the fort. i have told him since, with mr. chardon's permission, to call upon us before he opens these mighty portals, whenever he espies wolves from the gallery above, and i hope that to-morrow morning we may shoot one or more of these bold marauders. sprague has been drawing all day, and i a good part of it; and it has been so chilly and cold that we have had fires in several parts of the fort. bell and harris have gone shooting this afternoon, and have not yet returned. bell cleaned the wolf shot last night, and the two antelopes; old provost boiled brine, and the whole of them are now in pickle. there are some notions that two kinds of deer are found hereabouts, one quite small, the other quite large; but of this i have no proof at present. the weather was too bad for alexis to go hunting. young mr. mckenzie and a companion went across the river, but returned soon afterwards, having seen nothing but one grizzly bear. the water is either at a stand, or falling a little.--_later_. harris and bell have returned, and, to my delight and utter astonishment, have brought two new birds: one a lark,[ ] small and beautiful; the other like our common golden-winged woodpecker, but with a red mark instead of a black one along the lower mandible running backward.[ ] i am quite amazed at the differences of opinion respecting the shedding--or not shedding--of the horns of the antelope;[ ] and this must be looked to with the greatest severity, for if these animals _do_ shed their horns, they are no longer _antelopes_. we are about having quite a ball in honor of mr. chardon, who leaves shortly for the blackfoot fort. _june , tuesday._ it rained nearly all night; and though the ball was given, i saw nothing of it, and heard but little, for i went to bed and to sleep. sprague finished the drawing of the old male antelope, and i mine, taking besides the measurements, etc., which i give here.... bell has skinned the head and put it in pickle. the weather was bad, yet old provost, alexis, and mr. bonaventure, a good hunter and a first-rate shot, went over the river to hunt. they returned, however, without anything, though they saw three or four deer, and a wolf almost black, with very long hair, which provost followed for more than a mile, but uselessly, as the rascal outwitted him after all. harris and bell are gone too, and i hope they will bring some more specimens of sprague's lark and the new golden-winged woodpecker. to fill the time on this dreary day, i asked mr. chardon to come up to our room and give us an account of the small-pox among the indians, especially among the mandans and riccarees, and he related as follows: early in the month of july, , the steamer "assiniboin" arrived at fort clark with many cases of small-pox on board. mr. chardon, having a young son on the boat, went thirty miles to meet her, and took his son away. the pestilence, however, had many victims on the steamboat, and seemed destined to find many more among the helpless tribes of the wilderness. an indian stole the blanket of one of the steamboat's watchmen (who lay at the point of death, if not already dead), wrapped himself in it, and carried it off, unaware of the disease that was to cost him his life, and that of many of his tribe--thousands, indeed. mr. chardon offered a reward immediately for the return of the blanket, as well as a new one in its stead, and promised that no punishment should be inflicted. but the robber was a great chief; through shame, or some other motive, he never came forward, and, before many days, was a corpse. most of the riccarees and mandans were some eighty miles in the prairies, hunting buffaloes and saving meat for the winter. mr. chardon despatched an express to acquaint them all of the awful calamity, enjoining them to keep far off, for that death would await them in their villages. they sent word in return, that their corn was suffering for want of work, that they were not afraid, and would return; the danger to them, poor things, seemed fabulous, and doubtless they thought other reasons existed, for which this was an excuse. mr. chardon sent the man back again, and told them their crop of corn was nothing compared to their lives; but indians are indians, and, in spite of all entreaties, they moved _en masse_, to confront the awful catastrophe that was about to follow. when they reached the villages, they thought the whites had saved the riccarees, and put the plague on them alone (they were mandans). moreover, they thought, and said, that the whites had a preventive medicine, which the whites would not give them. again and again it was explained to them that this was not the case, but all to no purpose; the small-pox had taken such a hold upon the poor indians, and in such malignant form, that they died oftentimes within the rising and setting of a day's sun. they died by hundreds daily; their bodies were thrown down beneath the high bluff, and soon produced a stench beyond description. men shot their wives and children, and afterwards, driving several balls in their guns, would place the muzzle in their mouths, and, touching the trigger with their feet, blow their brains out. about this time mr. chardon was informed that one of the young mandan chiefs was bent on shooting him, believing he had brought the pestilence upon the indians. one of mr. chardon's clerks heard of this plot, and begged him to remain in the store; at first mr. chardon did not place any faith in the tale, but later was compelled to do so, and followed his clerk's advice. the young chief, a short time afterwards, fell a victim to this fearful malady; but probably others would have taken his life had it not been for one of those strange incidents which come, we know not why, nor can we explain them. a number of the chiefs came that day to confer with mr. chardon, and while they were talking angrily with him, he sitting with his arms on a table between them, a dove, being pursued by a hawk, flew in through the open door, and sat panting and worn out on mr. chardon's arm for more than a minute, when it flew off. the indians, who were quite numerous, clustered about him, and asked him what the bird came to him for? after a moment's thought, he told them that the bird had been sent by the white men, his friends, to see if it was true that the mandans had killed him, and that it must return with the answer as soon as possible; he added he had told the dove to say that the mandans were his friends, and would never kill him, but would do all they could for him. the superstitious redmen believed this story implicitly; thenceforth they looked on mr. chardon as one of the great spirit's sons, and believed he alone could help them. little, however, could be done; the small-pox continued its fearful ravages, and the indians grew fewer and fewer day by day. for a long time the riccarees did not suffer; the mandans became more and more astounded at this, and became exasperated against both whites and indians. the disease was of the most virulent type, so that within a few hours after death the bodies were a mass of rottenness. men killed themselves, to die a nobler death than that brought by the dreaded plague. one young warrior sent his wife to dig his grave; and she went, of course, for no indian woman dares disobey her lord. the grave was dug, and the warrior, dressed in his most superb apparel, with lance and shield in hand, walked towards it singing his own death song, and, finding the grave finished, threw down all his garments and arms, and leaped into it, drawing his knife as he did so, and cutting his body almost asunder. this done, the earth was thrown over him, the grave filled up, and the woman returned to her lodge to live with her children, perhaps only another day. a great chief, who had been a constant friend to the whites, having caught the pest, and being almost at the last extremity, dressed himself in his fineries, mounted his war-steed, and, fevered and in agony, rode among the villages, speaking against the whites, urging the young warriors to charge upon them and destroy them all. the harangue over, he went home, and died not many hours afterward. the exposure and exertion brought on great pains, and one of the men from the fort went to him with something that gave him temporary relief; before he died, he acknowledged his error in trying to create trouble between the whites and indians, and it was his wish to be buried in front of the gate of the fort, with all his trophies around and above his body; the promise was given him that this should be done, and he died in the belief that the white man, as he trod on his grave, would see that he was humbled before him, and would forgive him. two young men, just sickening with the disease, began to talk of the dreadful death that awaited them, and resolved not to wait for the natural close of the malady, the effects of which they had seen among their friends and relatives. one said the knife was the surest and swiftest weapon to carry into effect their proposed self-destruction; the other contended that placing an arrow in the throat and forcing it into the lungs was preferable. after a long debate they calmly rose, and each adopted his own method; in an instant the knife was driven into the heart of one, the arrow into the throat of the other, and they fell dead almost at the same instant. another story was of an extremely handsome and powerful indian who lost an only son, a beautiful boy, upon whom all his hopes and affections were placed. the loss proved too much for him; he called his wife, and, after telling her what a faithful husband he had been, said to her, "why should we live? all we cared for is taken from us, and why not at once join our child in the land of the great spirit?" she consented; in an instant he shot her dead on the spot, reloaded his gun, put the muzzle in his mouth, touched the trigger, and fell back dead. on the same day another curious incident occurred; a young man, covered with the eruption, and apparently on the eve of death, managed to get to a deep puddle of mire or mud, threw himself in it, and rolled over and over as a buffalo is wont to do. the sun was scorching hot, and the poor fellow got out of the mire covered with a coating of clay fully half an inch thick and laid himself down; the sun's heat soon dried the clay, so as to render it like unburnt bricks, and as he walked or crawled along towards the village, the mud drying and falling from him, taking the skin with it, and leaving the flesh raw and bleeding, he was in agony, and besought those who passed to kill him; but, strange to say, after enduring tortures, the fever left him, he recovered, and is still living, though badly scarred. many ran to the river, in the delirium of the burning fever, plunged in the stream, and rose no more. the whites in the fort, as well as the riccarees, took the disease after all. the indians, with few exceptions, died, and three of the whites. the latter had no food in the way of bread, flour, sugar, or coffee, and they had to go stealthily by night to steal small pumpkins, about the size of a man's fist, to subsist upon--and this amid a large number of wild, raving, mad indians, who swore revenge against them all the while. this is a mere sketch of the terrible scourge which virtually annihilated two powerful tribes of indians, and of the trials of the traders attached to the fur companies on these wild prairies, and i can tell you of many more equally strange. the mortality, as taken down by major mitchell, was estimated by that gentleman at , indians, including those from the tribes of the riccarees, mandans, sioux, and blackfeet. the small-pox was in the very fort from which i am now writing this account, and its ravages here were as awful as elsewhere. mr. chardon had the disease, and was left for dead; but one of his clerks saw signs of life, and forced him to drink a quantity of hot whiskey mixed with water and nutmeg; he fell into a sound sleep, and his recovery began from that hour. he says that with him the pains began in the small of the back, and on the back part of his head, and were intense. he concluded by assuring us all that the small-pox had never been known in the civilized world, as it had been among the poor mandans and other indians. only _twenty-seven_ mandans were left to tell the tale; they have now augmented to ten or twelve lodges in the six years that have nearly elapsed since the pestilence.[ ] harris and bell came back bringing several small birds, among which three or four proved to be a blackbird[ ] nearly allied to the rusty grakle, but with evidently a much shorter and straighter bill. its measurements will be given, of course. the weather is still lowering and cold, and it rains at intervals. we are now out of specimens of quadrupeds to draw from. our gentlemen seem to remember the ball of last night, and i doubt not will go early to bed, as i shall. _june , wednesday._ cloudy and lowering weather; however, provost went off over the river, before daylight, and shot a deer, of what kind we do not know; he returned about noon, very hungry. the mud was dreadful in the bottoms. bell and young mckenzie went off after breakfast, but brought nothing but a sharp-tailed grouse, though mckenzie shot two wolves. the one harris shot last night proved to be an old female not worth keeping; her companions had seamed her jaws, for in this part of the world wolves feed upon wolves, and no mistake. this evening i hauled the beast under the ramparts, cut her body open, and had a stake driven quite fast through it, to hold it as a bait. harris and bell are this moment on the lookout for the rascals. wolves here not only eat their own kind, but are the most mischievous animals in the country; they eat the young buffalo calves, the young antelopes, and the young of the bighorn on all occasions, besides hares of different sorts, etc. buffaloes never scrape the snow with their feet, but with their noses, notwithstanding all that has been said to the contrary, even by mr. catlin. bell brought home the hind parts, the head, and one forefoot of a new species of small hare.[ ] we are told these hares are very plentiful, and yet this is the first specimen we have seen, and sorry am i that it amounts to no specimen at all. harris and i walked several miles, but killed nothing; we found the nest of a sparrow-hawk, and harris, assisted by my shoulders, reached the nest, and drew out two eggs. sprague went across the hills eastward, and was fortunate enough to shoot a superb specimen of the arctic bluebird. this evening, mr. culbertson having told me the rabbits, such as bell had brought, were plentiful on the road to the steamboat landing, harris, bell, and i walked there; but although we were very cautious, we saw none, and only procured a black-headed grosbeak, which was shot whilst singing delightfully. to-morrow morning mr. chardon leaves us in the keel-boat for the blackfoot fort, and mr. kipp will leave for the crows early next week. _june , thursday._ we rose very late this morning, with the exception of provost, who went out shooting quite early; but he saw nothing fit for his rifle. all was bustle after breakfast, as mr. chardon's boat was loading, the rigging being put in order, the men moving their effects, etc., and a number of squaws, the wives of the men, were moving to and fro for hours before the ultimate departure of the boat, which is called the "bee." the cargo being arranged, thirty men went on board, including the commander, friend chardon, thirteen squaws, and a number of children, all more or less half-breeds. the flag of fort union was hoisted, the four-pounder run out of the front gate, and by eleven o'clock all was ready. the keel-boat had a brass swivel on her bows, and fired first, then off went the larger gun, and many an antelope and deer were doubtless frightened at the report that echoed through the hills far and near. we bid adieu to our good friend chardon; and his numerous and willing crew, taking the cordelle to their shoulders, moved the boat against a strong current in good style. harris and bell had gone shooting and returned with several birds, among which was a female red-patched woodpecker,[ ] and a lazuli finch. dinner over, i went off with young mckenzie after hares; found none, but started a grizzly bear from her lair. owen mckenzie followed the bear and i continued after hares; he saw no more of bruin, and i not a hare, and we both returned to the fort after a tramp of three hours. as i was walking over the prairie, i found an indian's skull (an assiniboin) and put it in my game pouch. provost made a whistle to imitate the noise made by the fawns at this season, which is used to great advantage to decoy the female deer; shortly afterward mr. bonaventure returned, and a cart was sent off at once to bring in a doe which he had killed below. this species of deer is much larger than the one we have in virginia, but perhaps no more so than those in maine; and as yet we cannot tell whether it may, or may not, prove a distinct species. we took all its measurements, and bell and provost are now skinning it. its gross weight is lbs., which i think is heavier than any doe i have seen before. the animal is very poor and evidently has fawns in the woods. the little new lark that i have named after sprague has almost all the habits of the skylark of europe. whilst looking anxiously after it, on the ground where we supposed it to be singing, we discovered it was high over our heads, and that sometimes it went too high for us to see it at all. we have not yet been able to discover its nest. bell is of opinion that the red-collared ground finch[ ] has its nest in the deserted holes of the ground squirrel, and we intend to investigate this. he also believes that say's flycatcher builds in rocky caverns or fissures, as he found the nest of a bird in some such place, after having wounded one of this species, which retired into the fissures of the rock, which he examined in pursuit of the wounded bird. the nest had no eggs; we are going to pay it a visit. bell was busy most of the day skinning birds, and sprague drew a beautiful plant. i found a number of wild roses in bloom, quite sweet-scented, though single, and of a very pale rose-color. _june , friday._ we have had a fine, warm day. the hunters of buffaloes started before daylight, and squires accompanied them; they are not expected back till sometime to-morrow. provost went across the river with them, and with the assistance of his bleating whistle, brought several does round him, and a good many wolves. he killed two does, drew them to a tree, and hung his coat near them while he returned for help to bring them to the fort. the hunters have a belief that a garment hung near game freshly killed will keep the wolves at bay for a time; but there are exceptions to all rules, as when he returned with the cart, a dozen hungry rascals of wolves had completely devoured one doe and all but one ham of the other; this he brought to the fort. the does at this season, on hearing the "bleat," run to the spot, supposing, no doubt, that the wolves have attacked their fawns, and in rushing to the rescue, run towards the hunter, who despatches them without much trouble, unless the woods are thickly overgrown with bushes and brush, when more difficulty is experienced in seeing them, although one may hear them close by; but it is a cruel, deceitful, and unsportsmanlike method, of which i can never avail myself, and which i try to discountenance. bell was busy all day with skins, and sprague with flowers, which he delineates finely. mr. kipp presented me with a complete dress of a blackfoot warrior, ornamented with many tufts of indian hair from scalps, and also with a saddle. after dinner, harris, who felt poorly all morning, was better, and we went to pay a visit at the opposition fort. we started in a wagon with an old horse called peter, which stands fire like a stump. in going, we found we could approach the birds with comparative ease, and we had the good fortune to shoot three of the new larks. i killed two, and harris one. when this species starts from the ground, they fly in a succession of undulations, which renders aim at them quite difficult; after this, and in the same manner, they elevate themselves to some considerable height, as if about to sing, and presently pitch towards the ground, where they run prettily, and at times stand still and quite erect for a few minutes; we hope to discover their nests soon. young meadow larks, red-shafted woodpeckers, and the red-cheeked ditto,[ ] are abundant. we reached fort mortimer in due time; passed first between several sulky, half-starved looking indians, and came to the gate, where we were received by the "bourgeois,"[ ] a young man by the name of collins, from hopkinsville, ky. we found the place in a most miserable condition, and about to be carried away by the falling in of the banks on account of the great rise of water in the yellowstone, that has actually dammed the missouri. the current ran directly across, and the banks gave way at such a rate that the men had been obliged already to tear up the front of the fort and remove it to the rear. to-morrow they are to remove the houses themselves, should they stand the coming night, which appeared to me somewhat dubious. we saw a large athletic man who has crossed the mountains twice to the pacific; he is a philadelphian, named wallis, who had been a cook at fort union four years, but who had finally deserted, lived for a time with the crows, and then joined the opposition. these persons were very polite to us, and invited us to remain and take supper with them; but as i knew they were short of provisions, i would not impose myself upon them, and so, with thanks for their hospitality, we excused ourselves and returned to fort union. as we were in search of birds, we saw a small, whitish-colored wolf trotting across the prairie, which hereabouts is very extensive and looks well, though the soil is poor. we put peter to a trot and gained on the wolf, which did not see us until we were about one hundred yards off; he stopped suddenly, and then went off at a canter. harris gave the whip to peter, and off we went, evidently gaining rapidly on the beast, when it saw an indian in its road; taking fright, it dashed to one side, and was soon lost in a ravine. we congratulated ourselves, on reaching the fort, that we had such good fortune as to be able to sup and sleep here, instead of at fort mortimer. bell had taken a walk and brought in a few birds. the prairie is covered with cacti, and harris and i suffered by them; my feet were badly pricked by the thorns, which penetrated my boots at the junction of the soles with the upper leathers. i have to-day heard several strange stories about grizzly bears, all of which i must have corroborated before i fully accept them. the otters and musk-rats of this part of the country are smaller than in the states; the first is the worst enemy that the beaver has. _june , saturday._ bell killed a small wolf last night, and harris wounded another. this morning provost started at daylight, and bell followed him; but they returned without game. after breakfast harris went off on horseback, and brought in a sharp-tailed grouse. he saw only one deer, species not identified. sprague and i went off last, but brought in nothing new. this afternoon i thought would be a fair opportunity to examine the manners of sprague's lark on the wing. bell drove peter for me, and i killed four larks; we then watched the flight of several. the male rises by constant undulations to a great height, say one hundred yards or more; and whilst singing its sweet-sounding notes, beats its wings, poised in the air like a hawk, without rising at this time; after which, and after each burst of singing, it sails in divers directions, forming three quarters of a circle or thereabouts, then rises again, and again sings; the intervals between the singing are longer than those which the song occupies, and at times the bird remains so long in the air as to render it quite fatiguing to follow it with the eye. sprague thought one he watched yesterday remained in the air about one hour. bell and harris watched one for more than half an hour, and this afternoon i gazed upon one, whilst bell timed it, for thirty-six minutes. we continued on to fort mortimer to see its condition, were received as kindly as yesterday, and saw the same persons. it was four o'clock, and the men were all at dinner, having been obliged to wait until this time because they had no meat in the fort, and their hunters had returned only one hour and a half before. we found that the river had fallen about fourteen inches since last evening, and the men would not remove for the present. on our way homeward bell shot a fifth lark, and when we reached the ravine i cut out of a tree-stump the nest of an arctic bluebird, with six eggs in it, of almost the same size and color as those of the common bluebird. sprague had brought a female of his lark, and her nest containing five eggs; the measurements of these two species i will write out to-morrow. our buffalo hunters are not yet returned, and i think that squires will feel pretty well fatigued when he reaches the fort. mr. culbertson presented me with a pair of stirrups, and a most splendid blackfoot crupper for my saddle. the day has been warm and clear. we caught seven catfish at the river near the fort, and most excellent eating they are, though quite small when compared with the monsters of this species on the missouri below. _june , sunday._ this day has been warm and the wind high, at first from the south, but this afternoon from the north. little or nothing has been done in the way of procuring birds or game, except that harris and mr. denig brought in several arkansas flycatchers. not a word from the hunters, and therefore they must have gone far before they met buffaloes. a few more catfish have been caught, and they are truly excellent. _june , monday._ the hunters returned this afternoon about three o'clock; _i. e._, squires and mckenzie; but the carts did not reach the fort till after i had gone to bed. they have killed three antelopes, three bull buffaloes, and one townsend's hare, but the last was lost through carelessness, and i am sorry for it. the men had eaten one of the antelopes, and the two others are fine males; bell skinned one, and saved the head and the fore-legs of the other. one of them had the tips of the horns as much crooked inwardly (backwards) as the horns of the european chamois usually are. this afternoon early provost brought in a deer of the large kind, and this also was skinned. after this harris and bell went off and brought in several lazuli finches, and a black prairie lark finch of the species brought from the columbia by townsend and nuttall. we caught several catfish and a very curious sturgeon, of which sprague took an outline with the camera, and i here give the measurements.... it had run on the shore, and was caught by one of the men. i made a bargain this morning with the hunter bonaventure le brun to procure me ten bighorns, at $ . apiece, or the same price for any number he may get. mr. culbertson lent him old peter, the horse, and i wrote a _petit billet_ to mr. john collins, to ask him to have them ferried across the river, as our boat was away on a wood-cutting expedition. as le brun did not return, of course he was taken across, and may, perhaps, come back this evening, or early to-morrow morning, with something worth having. at this moment bell has shot a wolf from the ramparts, and sadly crippled another, but it made off somehow. _june , tuesday._ this morning was quite cool, and the wind from the north. after breakfast bell and owen mckenzie went off on horseback on this side of the river, to see how far off the buffaloes are, and they may probably bring home some game. sprague and i have been drawing all day yesterday and most of to-day. provost has been making whistles to call the deer; later he, harris, and i, walked to the hills to procure the black root plant which is said to be the best antidote for the bite of the rattlesnake. we found the root and dug one up, but the plant is not yet in bloom. the leaves are long and narrow, and the flowers are said to resemble the dwarf sunflower. harris shot two of what he calls the small shore lark, male and female; but beyond the size being a little smaller than those found at labrador, i cannot discover any specific difference. from the top of the hills we saw a grand panorama of a most extensive wilderness, with fort union beneath us and far away, as well as the yellowstone river, and the lake across the river. the hills across the missouri appeared quite low, and we could see the high prairie beyond, forming the background. bell and mckenzie returned, having shot a wolf in a curious manner. on reaching the top of a hill they found themselves close to the wolf. bell's horse ran quite past it, but young mckenzie shot and broke one fore-leg, and it fell. bell then gave his horse to mckenzie, jumped off, ran to the wolf, and took hold of it by the tail, pulling it towards the horses; but it got up and ran rapidly. bell fired two shots in its back with a pistol without stopping it, then he ran as fast as he could, shot it in the side, and it fell. bell says its tail was longer than usual, but it was not measured, and the wolf was left on the prairie, as they had no means of bringing it in. they saw an antelope, some magpies, and a swift fox, but no buffaloes, though they were fifteen miles from the fort. they ran a long-tailed deer, and describe its movements precisely as do lewis and clark.[ ] between every three or four short leaps came the long leap of fully twenty-five feet, if not more. the kit or swift fox which they saw stood by a bunch of wormwood, and whilst looking at the hunters, was seen to brush off the flies with his paws. i am now going to take this book to lewis squires and ask him to write in it his account of the buffalo hunt. (the following is in mr. squires' handwriting:) "by mr. audubon's desire i will relate the adventures that befell me in my first buffalo hunt, and i am in hopes that among the rubbish a trifle, at least, may be obtained which may be of use or interest to him. on the morning of friday, the d, before daylight, i was up, and in a short time young mckenzie made his appearance. a few minutes sufficed to saddle our horses, and be in readiness for our contemplated hunt. we were accompanied by mr. bonaventure the younger, one of the hunters of the fort, and two carts to bring in whatever kind of meat might be procured. we were ferried across the river in a flatboat, and thence took our departure for the buffalo country. we passed through a wooded bottom for about one mile, and then over a level prairie for about one mile and a half, when we commenced the ascent of the bluffs that bound the western side of the missouri valley; our course then lay over an undulating prairie, quite rough, and steep hills with small ravines between, and over dry beds of streams that are made by the spring and fall freshets. occasionally we were favored with a level prairie never exceeding two miles in extent. when the carts overtook us, we exchanged our horses for them, and sat on buffalo robes on the bottom, our horses following on behind us. as we neared the place where the buffaloes had been killed on the previous hunt, bonaventure rode alone to the top of a hill to discover, if possible, their whereabouts; but to our disappointment nothing living was to be seen. we continued on our way watching closely, ahead, right and left. three o'clock came and as yet nothing had been killed; as none of us had eaten anything since the night before, our appetites admonished us that it was time to pay attention to them. mckenzie and bonaventure began to look about for antelopes; but before any were 'comeatable,' i fell asleep, and was awakened by the report of a gun. before we, in the carts, arrived at the spot from whence this report proceeded, the hunters had killed, skinned, and nearly cleaned the game, which was a fine male antelope. i regretted exceedingly i was not awake when it was killed, as i might have saved the skin for mr. audubon, as well as the head, but i was too late. it was now about five o'clock, and one may well imagine i was _somewhat_ hungry. owen mckenzie commenced eating the raw liver, and offered me a piece. what others can eat, i felt assured i could at least taste. i accordingly took it and ate quite a piece of it; to my utter astonishment, i found it not only palatable but very good; this experience goes far to convince me that our prejudices make things appear more disgusting than fact proves them to be. our antelope cut up and in the cart, we proceeded on our 'winding way,' and scarcely had we left the spot where the entrails of the animal remained, before the wolves and ravens commenced coming from all quarters, and from places where a minute before there was not a sign of one. we had not proceeded three hundred yards at the utmost, before eight wolves were about the spot, and others approaching. on our way, both going and returning, we saw a cactus of a conical shape, having a light straw-colored, double flower, differing materially from the flower of the flat cactus, which is quite common; had i had any means of bringing one in, i would most gladly have done so, but i could not depend on the carts, and as they are rather unpleasant companions, i preferred awaiting another opportunity, which i hope may come in a few days. we shot a young of townsend's hare, about seven or eight steps from us, with about a dozen shot; i took good care of it until i left the cart on my return to the fort, but when the carts arrived it had carelessly been lost. this i regretted very much, as mr. audubon wanted it. it was nearly sunset when bonaventure discovered a buffalo bull, so we concluded to encamp for the night, and run the buffaloes in the morning. we accordingly selected a spot near a pond of water, which in spring and fall is quite a large lake, and near which there was abundance of good pasture; our horses were soon unsaddled and hoppled, a good fire blazing, and some of the antelope meat roasting on sticks before it. as soon as a bit was done, we commenced operations, and it was soon gone 'the way of all flesh.' i never before ate meat without salt or pepper, and until then never fully appreciated these two _luxuries_, as they now seemed, nor can any one, until deprived of them, and seated on a prairie as we were, or in some similar situation. on the opposite side of the lake we saw a grizzly bear, but he was unapproachable. after smoking our pipes we rolled ourselves in our robes, with our saddles for pillows, and were soon lost in a sound, sweet sleep. during the night i was awakened by a crunching sound; the fire had died down, and i sat up and looking about perceived a wolf quietly feeding on the remains of our supper. one of the men awoke at the same time and fired at the wolf, but without effect, and the fellow fled; we neither saw nor heard more of him during the night. by daylight we were all up, and as our horses had not wandered far, it was the work of a few minutes to catch and saddle them. we rode three or four miles before we discovered anything, but at last saw a group of three buffaloes some miles from us. we pushed on, and soon neared them; before arriving at their feeding-ground, we saw, scattered about, immense quantities of pumice-stone, in detached pieces of all sizes; several of the hills appeared to be composed wholly of it. as we approached within two hundred yards of the buffaloes they started, and away went the hunters after them. my first intention of being merely a looker-on continued up to this moment, but it was impossible to resist following; almost unconsciously i commenced urging my horse after them, and was soon rushing up hills and through ravines; but my horse gave out, and disappointment and anger followed, as mckenzie and bonaventure succeeded in killing two, and wounding a third, which escaped. as soon as they had finished them, they commenced skinning and cutting up one, which was soon in the cart, the offal and useless meat being left on the ground. again the wolves made their appearance as we were leaving; they seemed shy, but owen mckenzie succeeded in killing one, which was old and useless. the other buffalo was soon skinned and in the cart. in the meantime mckenzie and i started on horseback for water. the man who had charge of the keg had let it all run out, and most fortunately none of us had wanted water until now. we rode to a pond, the water of which was very salt and warm, but we had to drink this or none; we did so, filled our flasks for the rest of the party, and a few minutes afterward rejoined them. we started again for more meat to complete our load. i observed, as we approached the buffaloes, that they stood gazing at us with their heads erect, lashing their sides with their tails; as soon as they discovered what we were at, with the quickness of thought they wheeled, and with the most surprising speed, for an animal apparently so clumsy and awkward, flew before us. i could hardly imagine that these enormous animals could move so quickly, or realize that their speed was as great as it proved to be; and i doubt if in this country one horse in ten can be found that will keep up with them. we rode five or six miles before we discovered any more. at last we saw a single bull, and while approaching him we started two others; slowly we wended our way towards them until within a hundred yards, when away they went. i had now begun to enter into the spirit of the chase, and off i started, full speed, down a rough hill in swift pursuit; at the bottom of the hill was a ditch about eight feet wide; the horse cleared this safely. i continued, leading the others by some distance, and rapidly approaching the buffaloes. at this prospect of success my feelings can better be imagined than described. i kept the lead of the others till within thirty or forty yards of the buffaloes, when i began making preparations to fire as soon as i was sufficiently near; imagine, if possible, my disappointment when i discovered that now, when all my hopes of success were raised to the highest pitch, i was fated to meet a reverse as mortifying as success would have been gratifying. my horse failed, and slackened his pace, despite every effort of mine to urge him on; the other hunters rushed by me at full speed, and my horse stopped altogether. i saw the others fire; the animal swerved a little, but still kept on. after breathing my horse a while, i succeeded in starting him up again, followed after them, and came up in time to fire one shot ere the animal was brought down. i think that i never saw an eye so ferocious in expression as that of the wounded buffalo; rolling wildly in its socket, inflamed as the eye was, it had the most frightful appearance that can be imagined; and in fact, the picture presented by the buffalo as a whole is quite beyond my powers of description. the fierce eyes, blood streaming from his sides, mouth, and nostrils, he was the wildest, most unearthly-looking thing it ever fell to my lot to gaze upon. his sufferings were short; he was soon cut up and placed in the cart, and we retraced our steps homeward. whilst proceeding towards our camping-ground for the night, two antelopes were killed, and placed on our carts. whenever we approached these animals they were very curious to see what we were; they would run, first to the right, and then to the left, then suddenly run straight towards us until within gun-shot, or nearly so. the horse attracted their attention more than the rider, and if a slight elevation or bush was between us, they were easily killed. as soon as their curiosity was gratified they would turn and run, but it was not difficult to shoot before this occurred. when they turned they would fly over the prairie for about a mile, when they would again stop and look at us. during the day we suffered very much for want of water, and drank anything that had the appearance of it, and most of the water, in fact all of it, was either impregnated with salt, sulphur, or magnesia--most disgusting stuff at any other time, but drinkable now. the worst of all was some rain-water that we were obliged to drink, first placing our handkerchiefs over the cup to strain it, and keep the worms out of our mouths. i drank it, and right glad was i to get even this. we rode about five miles to where we encamped for the night, near a little pond of water. in a few minutes we had a good fire of buffalo dung to drive away mosquitoes that were in clouds about us. the water had taken away our appetites completely, and we went to bed without eating any supper. our horses and beds were arranged as on the previous evening. mckenzie and i intended starting for the fort early in the morning. we saw a great many magpies, curlews, plovers, doves, and numbers of antelopes. about daylight i awoke and roused mckenzie; a man had gone for the horses, but after a search of two hours returned without finding them; all the party now went off except one man and myself, and all returned without success except bonaventure, who found an old horse that had been lost since april last. he was despatched on this to the fort to get other horses, as we had concluded that ours were either lost or stolen. as soon as he had gone, one of the men started again in search of the runaways, and in a short time returned with them. mckenzie and i soon rode off. we saw two grizzly bears at the lake again. our homeward road we made much shorter by cutting off several turns; we overtook bonaventure about four miles from our encampment, and passed him. we rode forty miles to the fort in a trifle over six hours. we had travelled in all about one hundred and twenty miles. bonaventure arrived two hours after we did, and the carts came in the evening." _wednesday, june ._ this is an account of squires' buffalo hunt, his first one, which he has kindly written in my journal and which i hope some day to publish. this morning was very cloudy, and we had some rain, but from ten o'clock until this moment the weather has been beautiful. harris shot a handsome though rather small wolf; i have made a large drawing, and sprague a fine diminished one, of the rascal. the first news we had this morning was that the ferry flat had been stolen last night, probably by the deserters from the fort who have had the wish to return to st. louis. some person outside of the fort threw a large stone at an indian woman, and her husband fired in the dark, but no one could be found on searching. there is much trouble and discomfort to the managers of such an establishment as this. provost went shooting, but saw nothing. young mckenzie and another man were sent to find the scow, but in vain. on their return they said a hunter from fort mortimer had brought a bighorn, and skinned it, and that he would let me have it if i wished. i sent bell and squires, and they brought the skin in. it proves to be that of an old female in the act of shedding her winter coat, and i found that she was covered with abundance of downy wool like the antelopes under similar circumstances. mr. larpenteur caught five small catfish, which we ate at breakfast. after dinner le brun returned home, but brought only the skin of a young female of the white-tailed deer, and i was surprised to see that it had the germ of a horn about one inch long; the skin was quite red, and it is saved. a young elk was brought in good condition, as the hunters here know how to save skins properly; it was too young, however, to take measurements. the horns were in velvet about six inches long. when one sees the powerful bones and muscles of this young animal, one cannot fail to think of the great strength of the creature when mature, and its ability to bear with ease the enormous antlers with which its head is surmounted. the flesh of the antelope is not comparable with that of the deer, being dry and usually tough. it is very rarely indeed that a fat antelope is killed. bell has been very busy in skinning small birds and animals. we procured a young red-shafted woodpecker, killed by an indian boy with a bow and arrow. mr. kipp's "mackinaw" was launched this evening, and sent across the river with men to relieve the charcoal-burners; she returned immediately and we expect that mr. kipp's crew will go off to-morrow about twelve. i was told a curious anecdote connected with a grizzly bear, that i will write down; it is as follows: one of the _engagés_ of the company was forced to run away, having killed an indian woman, and made his way to the crow fort, three hundred miles up the yellowstone river. when he arrived there he was in sad plight, having his own squaw and one or two children along, who had all suffered greatly with hunger, thirst, and exposure. they were received at the fort, but in a short time, less than a week afterwards, he again ran off with his family, and on foot. the discovery was soon made, and two men were sent after him; but he eluded their vigilance by keeping close in ravines, etc. the men returned, and two others with an indian were despatched on a second search, and after much travel saw the man and his family on an island, where he had taken refuge from his pursuers. the buffalo-hide canoe in which he had attempted to cross the river was upset, and it was with difficulty that he saved his wife and children. they were now unable to escape, and when talking as to the best way to secure their return to the fort, the soldiers saw him walk to the body of a dead buffalo lying on the shore of the island, with the evident intention of procuring some of it for food. as he stooped to cut off a portion, to his utter horror he saw a small grizzly bear crawl out from the carcass. it attacked him fiercely, and so suddenly that he was unable to defend himself; the bear lacerated his face, arms, and the upper part of his body in a frightful manner, and would have killed him, had not the indian raised his gun and fired at the bear, wounding him severely, while a second shot killed him. the _engagé_ was too much hurt to make further effort to escape, and one of the company's boats passing soon after, he and his family were taken back to the fort, where he was kept to await his trial. _june , thursday._ it rained hard during the night, but at dawn provost went shooting and returned to dinner, having shot a doe, which was skinned and the meat saved. he saw a grouse within a few feet of him, but did not shoot, as he had only a rifle. bell and i took a long walk, and shot several birds. we both were surprised to find a flock of cliff swallows endeavoring to build nests beneath the ledges of a clay bank. watching the moment when several had alighted against the bank, i fired, and killed three. previous to this, as i was walking along a ravine, a white wolf ran past within fifteen or twenty paces of me, but i had only very small shot, and did not care to wound where i could not kill. the fellow went off at a limping gallop, and bell after it, squatting whenever the wolf stopped to look at him; but at last the rascal lost himself in a deep ravine, and a few minutes after we saw him emerge from the shrubs some distance off, and go across the prairie towards the river. bell saw two others afterwards, and if ever there was a country where wolves are surpassingly abundant, it is the one we now are in. wolves are in the habit of often lying down on the prairies, where they form quite a bed, working at bones the while. we found a nest of the prairie lark, with four eggs. we saw arctic bluebirds, say's flycatcher and lazuli finches. say's flycatcher has a note almost like the common pewee. they fly over the prairies like hawks, looking for grasshoppers, upon which they pounce, and if they lose sight of them, they try again at another place. we returned home to dinner, and after this a discussion arose connected with the red-shafted woodpecker. we determined to go and procure one of the young, and finding that these have pale-yellow shafts, instead of deep orange-red, such as the old birds have, the matter was tested and settled according to my statement. harris and i went off after the doe killed this morning, and killed another, but as i have now skins enough, the measurements only were taken, and the head cut off, which i intend drawing to-morrow. harris shot also a grouse, and a woodpecker that will prove a _canadensis_; he killed the male also, but could not find it, and we found seven young red-shafted woodpeckers in one nest. i killed a female meadow lark, the first seen in this country by us. provost told me (and he is a respectable man) that, during the breeding season of the mountain ram, the battering of the horns is often heard as far as a mile away, and that at such times they are approached with comparative ease; and there is no doubt that it is during such encounters that the horns are broken and twisted as i have seen them, and not by leaping from high places and falling on their horns, as poetical travellers have asserted. the fact is that when these animals leap from any height they alight firmly on all their four feet. at this season the young are always very difficult to catch, and i have not yet seen one of them. harris, bell, and young mckenzie are going bighorn hunting to-morrow, and i hope they will be successful; i, alas! am no longer young and alert enough for the expedition. we find the mosquitoes very troublesome, and very numerous. _june , friday._ the weather was dark, with the wind at the northwest, and looked so like rain that the hunters did not start as they had proposed. sprague, harris, and bell went out, however, after small game. i began drawing at five this morning, and worked almost without cessation till after three, when, becoming fatigued for want of practice, i took a short walk, regretting i could no longer draw twelve or fourteen hours without a pause or thought of weariness. it is now raining quite hard. mr. larpenteur went after a large tree to make a ferry-boat, and the new skiff was begun this morning. i sent provost to fort mortimer to see if any one had arrived from below; he found a man had done so last evening and brought letters to mr. collins, requesting him to do all he can for us. he also reported that a party of sioux had had a battle with the gros ventres, and had killed three of the latter and a white man who lived with them as a blacksmith. the gros ventres, on the other hand, had killed eight of the sioux and put them to flight. the blacksmith killed two sioux, and the enemies cut off one leg and one arm, scalped him, and left the mangled body behind them. it is said there is now no person living who can recollect the manner in which the bitter enmity of these two nations originated. the yellowstone river is again rising fast, and mr. kipp will have tough times before he reaches fort alexander, which was built by mr. alexander culbertson, our present host, and the company had it honored by his name. when a herd of buffaloes is chased, although the bulls themselves run very swiftly off, their speed is not to be compared to that of the cows and yearlings; for these latter are seen in a few minutes to leave the bulls behind them, and as cows and young buffaloes are preferable to the old males, when the hunters are well mounted they pursue the cows and young ones invariably. last winter buffaloes were extremely abundant close to this fort, so much so that while the people were engaged in bringing hay in carts, the buffaloes during the night came close in, and picked up every wisp that was dropped. an attempt to secure them alive was made by strewing hay in such a manner as to render the bait more and more plentiful near the old fort, which is distant about two hundred yards, and which was once the property of mr. sublette and co.; but as the hogs and common cattle belonging to the fort are put up there regularly at sunset, the buffaloes ate the hay to the very gates, but would not enter the enclosure, probably on account of the different smells issuing therefrom. at this period large herds slept in front of the fort, but just before dawn would remove across the hills about one mile distant, and return towards night. an attempt was made to shoot them with a cannon--a four-pounder; three were killed and several wounded. still the buffaloes came to their sleeping ground at evening, and many were killed during the season. i saw the head of one mr. culbertson shot, and the animal must have been of unusual size. _july , saturday._ it was still raining when i got up, but a few minutes later the sun was shining through one of our windows, and the wind being at northwest we anticipated a fine day. the ground was extremely wet and muddy, but harris and bell went off on horseback, and returned a few minutes after noon. they brought some birds and had killed a rascally wolf. bell found the nest of the arkansas flycatcher. the nest and eggs, as well as the manners, of this bird resemble in many ways those of our king-bird. the nest was in an elm, twenty or twenty-five feet above the ground, and he saw another in a similar situation. mr. culbertson and i walked to the pilot knob with a spy-glass, to look at the present condition of fort mortimer. this afternoon squires, provost, and i walked there, and were kindly received as usual. we found all the people encamped two hundred yards from the river, as they had been obliged to move from the tumbling fort during the rain of last night. whilst we were there a trapper came in with a horse and told us the following: this man and four others left that fort on the st of april last on an expedition after beavers. they were captured by a party of about four hundred sioux, who took them prisoners and kept him one day and a half, after which he was released, but his companions were kept prisoners. he crossed the river and found a horse belonging to the indians, stole it, and reached the fort at last. he looked miserable indeed, almost without a rag of clothing, long hair, filthy beyond description, and having only one very keen, bright eye, which looked as if he was both proud and brave. he had subsisted for the last eleven days on pomme blanche and the thick leaves of the cactus, which he roasted to get rid of the thorns or spines, and thus had fared most miserably; for, previous to the capture of himself and his companions, he had upset his bull canoe and lost his rifle, which to a trapper is, next to life, his dependence. when he was asked if he would have some dinner, he said that he had forgotten the word, but would try the taste of meat again. mr. collins was very polite to me, and promised me a hunter for the whole of next week, expressly to shoot bighorns. i hope this promise may be better kept than that of mr. chardon, who told me that should he have one killed within forty miles he would send alexis back with it at once. we heard some had been killed, but this may not be true; at any rate, men are men all over the world, and a broken promise is not unheard-of. this evening mr. culbertson presented me with a splendid dress, as well as one to harris and one to bell, and promised one to sprague, which i have no doubt he will have. harris and sprague went off to procure woodpeckers' nests, and brought the most curious set of five birds that i ever saw, and which i think will puzzle all the naturalists in the world. the first was found near the nest, of which sprague shot the female, a light-colored red-shafted woodpecker. it proved to be of the same color, but had the rudiments of black stripes on the cheeks. next, sprague shot an adult yellow-winged male, with the markings principally such as are found in the eastern states. harris then shot a young red-shafted, just fledged, with a black stripe on the cheek. his next shot was a light-colored red-shafted male, with black cheeks, and another still, a yellow red-shafted with a red cheek.[ ] after all this mr. culbertson proposed to run a sham buffalo hunt again. he, harris, and squires started on good horses, went about a mile, and returned full tilt, firing and cracking. squires fired four times and missed once. harris did not shoot at all; but mr. culbertson fired eleven times, starting at the onset with an empty gun, snapped three times, and reached the fort with his gun loaded. a more wonderful rider i never saw. _july , sunday._ the weather was cool and pleasant this morning, with no mosquitoes, which indeed--plentiful and troublesome as they are--provost tells me are more scarce this season than he ever knew them thus far up the missouri. sprague finished his drawing of the doe's head about dinner-time, and it looks well. after dinner he went after the puzzling woodpeckers, and brought three, all different from each other. mr. culbertson, his squaw wife, and i rode to fort mortimer, accompanied by young mckenzie, and found mr. collins quite ill. we saw the hunters of that fort, and they promised to supply me with bighorns, at ten dollars apiece in the flesh, and also some black-tailed deer, and perhaps a grizzly bear. this evening they came to the fort for old peter and a mule, to bring in their game; and may success attend them! when we returned, harris started off with mr. culbertson and his wife to see the condition of mr. collins, to whom he administered some remedies. harris had an accident that was near being of a serious nature; as he was getting into the wagon, thinking that a man had hold of the reins, which was not the case, his foot was caught between the axle-tree and the wagon, he was thrown down on his arm and side, and hurt to some extent; fortunately he escaped without serious injury, and does not complain much this evening, as he has gone on the ramparts to shoot a wolf. sprague saw a wolf in a hole a few yards from the fort, but said not a word of it till after dinner, when bell and harris went there and shot it through the head. it was a poor, miserable, crippled old beast, that could not get out of the hole, which is not more than three or four feet deep. after breakfast we had a hunt after hares or rabbits, and harris saw two of them, but was so near he did not care to shoot at them. whilst harris and mr. culbertson went off to see mr. collins, mr. denig and i walked off with a bag and instruments, to take off the head of a three-years-dead indian chief, called the white cow. mr. denig got upon my shoulders and into the branches near the coffin, which stood about ten feet above ground. the coffin was lowered, or rather tumbled, down, and the cover was soon hammered off; to my surprise, the feet were placed on the pillow, instead of the head, which lay at the foot of the coffin--if a long box may so be called. worms innumerable were all about it; the feet were naked, shrunk, and dried up. the head had still the hair on, but was twisted off in a moment, under jaw and all. the body had been first wrapped up in a buffalo skin without hair, and then in another robe with the hair on, as usual; after this the dead man had been enveloped in an american flag, and over this a superb scarlet blanket. we left all on the ground but the head. squires, mr. denig and young owen mckenzie went afterwards to try to replace the coffin and contents in the tree, but in vain; the whole affair fell to the ground, and there it lies; but i intend to-morrow to have it covered with earth. the history of this man is short, and i had it from mr. larpenteur, who was in the fort at the time of his decease, or self-committed death. he was a good friend to the whites, and knew how to procure many buffalo robes for them; he was also a famous orator, and never failed to harangue his people on all occasions. he was, however, consumptive, and finding himself about to die, he sent his squaw for water, took an arrow from his quiver, and thrusting it into his heart, expired, and was found dead when his squaw returned to the lodge. he was "buried" in the above-mentioned tree by the orders of mr. mckenzie, who then commanded this fort. mr. culbertson drove me so fast, and harris so much faster, over this rough ground, that i feel quite stiff. i must not forget to say that we had another sham buffalo chase over the prairie in front of the fort, the riders being squires, young mckenzie, and mr. culbertson; and i was glad and proud to see that squires, though so inexperienced a hunter, managed to shoot five shots within the mile, mckenzie eleven, and mr. culbertson eight. harris killed an old wolf, which he thought was larger and fatter than any killed previously. it was very large, but on examination it was found to be poor and without teeth in the upper jaw. _july , monday._ we have had a warm night and day; after breakfast we all six crossed the river in the newly built skiff, and went off in divers directions. provost and i looked thoroughly through the brushwood, and walked fully six miles from the fort; we saw three deer, but so far were they that it was useless to shoot. deer-shooting on the prairies is all hazard; sometimes the animals come tripping along within ten yards of you, and at other times not nearer can you get than one hundred and fifty yards, which was the case this day. the others killed nothing of note, and crossed the river back to the fort two hours at least before us; and we shot and bawled out for nearly an hour, before the skiff was sent for us. i took a swim, found the water very pleasant, and was refreshed by my bath. the bighorn hunters returned this afternoon with a bighorn, a female, and also a female black-tailed deer. i paid them $ for the two, and they are to start again to-morrow evening, or the next day. _july , tuesday._ although we had some fireworks going on last evening, after i had laid myself down for the night, the anniversary of the independence of the united states has been almost the quietest i have ever spent, as far as my recollection goes. i was drawing the whole day, and sprague was engaged in the same manner, painting a likeness of mr. culbertson. harris and bell went off to try and procure a buck of the long white-tailed deer, and returned after dinner much fatigued and hungry enough. bell had shot at a deer and wounded it very severely; the poor thing ran on, but soon lay down, for the blood and froth were gushing out of its mouth. bell saw the buck lying down, and not being an experienced hunter, thought it was dead, and instead of shooting it again, went back to call harris; when they returned, the deer was gone, and although they saw it again and again, the deer outwitted them, and, as i have said, they returned weary, with no deer. after dinner i spoke to mr. culbertson on the subject, and he told me that the deer could probably be found, but that most likely the wolves would devour it. he prepared to send young mckenzie with both my friends; the horses were soon saddled, and the three were off at a gallop. the poor buck's carcass was found, but several wolves and turkey buzzards had fared well upon it; the vertebræ only were left, with a few bits of skin and portions of the horns in velvet. these trophies were all that they brought home. it was a superb and very large animal, and i am very sorry for the loss of it, as i am anxious to draw the head of one of such a size as they represent this to have been. they ran after a wolf, which gave them leg bail. meanwhile squires and provost started with the skiff in a cart to go up the river two miles, cross, and camp on the opposite shore. the weather became very gloomy and chill. in talking with mr. culbertson he told me that no wise man would ever follow a buffalo bull immediately in his track, even in a hunt, and that no one well initiated would ever run after buffaloes between the herd and another hunter, as the latter bears on the former ever and anon, and places him in imminent danger. buffalo cows rarely, if ever, turn on the assailant, but bulls oftentimes will, and are so dangerous that many a fine hunter has been gored and killed, as well as his horse. _july , wednesday._ it rained the whole of last night and the weather has been bad all day. i am at the bighorn's head, and sprague at mr. culbertson. provost and squires returned drenched and hungry, before dinner. they had seen several deer, and fresh tracks of a large grizzly bear. they had waded through mud and water enough for one day, and were well fatigued. harris and bell both shot at wolves from the ramparts, and as these things are of such common occurrence i will say no more about them, unless we are in want of one of these beasts. harris and i went over to see mr. collins, who is much better; his hunters had not returned. we found the men there mostly engaged in playing cards and backgammon. the large patches of rose bushes are now in full bloom, and they are so full of sweet fragrance that the air is perfumed by them. the weather looks clear towards the north, and i expect a fine to-morrow. old provost has been telling me much of interest about the beavers, once so plentiful, but now very scarce. it takes about seventy beaver skins to make a pack of a hundred pounds; in a good market this pack is worth five hundred dollars, and in fortunate seasons a trapper sometimes made the large sum of four thousand dollars. formerly, when beavers were abundant, companies were sent with as many as thirty and forty men, each with from eight to a dozen traps, and two horses. when at a propitious spot, they erected a camp, and every man sought his own game; the skins alone were brought to the camp, where a certain number of men always remained to stretch and dry them. _july , thursday._ the weather has been pleasant, with the wind at northwest, and the prairies will dry a good deal. after breakfast harris, bell, and mckenzie went off on horseback. they saw a red fox of the country,[ ] which is different from those of the states; they chased it, and though it ran slowly at first, the moment it saw the hunters at full gallop, it ran swiftly from them. mckenzie shot with a rifle and missed it. they saw fresh tracks of the small hare, but not any of the animals themselves. after dinner i worked at mr. culbertson's head and dress, and by evening had the portrait nearly finished. at four o'clock harris, bell, and sprague went across the river in the skiff; sprague to take a view of the fort, the others to hunt. harris and bell shot twice at a buck, and killed it, though only one buckshot entered the thigh. whilst we were sitting at the back gate of the fort, we saw a parcel of indians coming towards the place, yelling and singing what mr. culbertson told me was the song of the scalp dance; we saw through the telescope that they were fourteen in number, with their faces painted black, and that it was a detachment of a war party. when within a hundred yards they all stopped, as if awaiting an invitation; we did not hurry as to this, and they seated themselves on the ground and looked at us, while mr. culbertson sent mr. denig to ask them to come in by the front gate of the fort, and put them in the indian house, a sort of camp for the fellows. they all looked miserably poor, filthy beyond description, and their black faces and foully smelling buffalo robes made them appear to me like so many devils. the leader, who was well known to be a famous rascal, and was painted red, was a tall, well-formed man. the party had only three poor guns, and a few had coarse, common lances; every man had a knife, and the leader was armed with a stick in which were inserted three blades of butcher's-knives; a blow from this weapon would doubtless kill a man. some of the squaws of the fort, having found that they were assiniboins, went to meet them; they took one of these, and painted her face black, as a sign of friendship. most of these mighty warriors had a lump of fresh buffalo meat slung on his back, which was all traded for by mr. larpenteur, who gave them in exchange some dried meat, not worth the notice of harris's dog, and some tobacco. the report of their expedition is as follows: their party at first consisted of nearly fifty; they travelled several hundred miles in search of blackfeet, and having discovered a small troop of them, they hid till the next morning, when at daylight (this is always the time they prefer for an attack) they rushed upon the enemy, surprised them, killed one at the onset, and the rest took to flight, leaving guns, horses, shields, lances, etc., on the ground. the assiniboins took several guns and seven horses, and the scalp of the dead indian. it happened that the man they killed had some time ago killed the father of their chief, and he was full of joy. after eating and resting awhile, they followed the trail of the blackfeet, hoping to again surprise them; but not seeing them, they separated into small parties, and it is one of these parties that is now with us. the chief, to show his pride and delight at killing his enemy, has borrowed a drum; and the company have nearly ever since been yelling, singing, and beating that beastly tambour. boucherville came to me, and told me that if the swamp over the river was sufficiently dried by to-morrow morning, he would come early with a companion for two horses, and would go after bighorns. he returned this afternoon from a buffalo hunt and had killed six. these six animals, all bulls, will suffice for fort mortimer only three days. a rascally indian had stolen his gun and bighorn bow; the gun he said he could easily replace, but the loss of the bow he regretted exceedingly. _july , friday._ this morning the dirty indians, who could have washed had they so minded, were beating the tambour and singing their miserable scalp song, until mr. culbertson ordered the drum taken away, and gave them more tobacco and some vermilion to bedaub their faces. they were permitted to remain about the fort the remainder of the day, and the night coming they will again be sheltered; but they must depart to-morrow morning. after breakfast sprague worked on the view of the fort. i went on with the portrait of mr. culbertson, who is about as bad a sitter as his wife, whose portrait is very successful, notwithstanding her extreme restlessness. after dinner harris, bell, and i started on foot, and walked about four miles from the fort; the day was hot, and horseflies and mosquitoes pretty abundant, but we trudged on, though we saw nothing; we had gone after rabbits, the tracks of which had been seen previously. we walked immediately near the foot of the clay hills which run from about a mile from and above the fort to the lord knows where. we first passed one ravine where we saw some very curious sandstone formations, coming straight out horizontally from the clay banks between which we were passing; others lay loose and detached; they had fallen down, or had been washed out some time or other. all were compressed in such a manner that the usual form was an oval somewhat depressed in the centre; but, to give you some idea of these formations, i will send you a rough sketch. those in the banks extended from five to seven feet, and the largest one on the ground measured a little less than ten feet. bell thought they would make good sharpening-stones, but i considered them too soft. they were all smooth, and the grain was alike in all. we passed two much depressed and very broken ravines, and at last reached the rabbit ground. whilst looking at the wild scenery around, and the clay hills on the other side of the missouri opposite the fort, i thought that if all these were granite, the formation and general appearance would resemble the country of labrador, though the grandeur and sublimity of the latter far surpass anything that i have seen since i left them forever. i must not forget to say that on our way we passed through some grasses with bearded shafts, so sharp that they penetrated our moccasins and entered our feet and ankles, and in the shade of a stumpy ash-tree we took off our moccasins and drew the spines out. the lazuli finches and arctic bluebirds sang in our view; but though we beat all the clumps of low bushes where the rabbits must go in, whether during night or day, we did not start one. we saw a wolf which ran close by, reached the brow of the hill, and kept where he could watch our every motion; this they do on all possible occasions. we were all very warm, so we rested awhile, and ate some service-berries, which i found good; the gooseberries were small and green, and almost choked harris with their sharp acidity. on our return, as we were descending the first deep ravine, a raven flew off close by; it was so near bell that he had no time to shoot. i followed it and although loaded with no. shot, i drew my trigger and the bird fell dead; only one shot had touched it, but that had passed through the lungs. after we reached the prairie i shot a meadow lark, but lost it, as we had unfortunately not taken bragg (harris's dog). we saw a patch of wood called in these regions a "point;" we walked towards it for the purpose of shooting deer. i was sent to the lower end, bell took one side, and harris the other, and the hound we had with us was sent in; no deer there, however, and we made for the fort, which we reached hot and thirsty enough after our long walk. as soon as i was cooled i took a good swim. i think the indians hereabouts poor swimmers; they beat the water with their arms, attempting to "nage à la brasse;" but, alas! it is too bad to mention. i am told, however, that there are no good specimens to judge from at the fort, so this is not much of an opinion. it is strange how very scarce snakes of every description are, as well as insects, except mosquitoes and horseflies. young mckenzie had been sent to seek for the lost ferry-boat, but returned without success; the new one is expected to be put in the water to-morrow evening. squires and provost had the skiff carried overland three miles, and they crossed the river in it with the intention to remain hunting until sunday night. _july , saturday._ mr. culbertson told me this morning that last spring early, during a snow-storm, he and mr. larpenteur were out in an indian lodge close by the fort, when they heard the mares which had young colts making much noise; and that on going out they saw a single wolf that had thrown down one of the colts, and was about doing the same with another. they both made towards the spot with their pistols; and, fearing that the wolf might kill both the colts, fired before reaching the spot, when too far off to take aim. master wolf ran off, but both colts bear evidence of his teeth to this day. when i came down this morning early, i was delighted to see the dirty and rascally indians walking off to their lodge on the other side of the hills, and before many days they will be at their camp enjoying their merriment (rough and senseless as it seems to me), yelling out their scalp song, and dancing. now this dance, to commemorate the death of an enemy, is a mere bending and slackening of the body, and patting of the ground with both feet at once, in very tolerable time with their music. our squaws yesterday joined them in this exemplary ceremony; one was blackened, and all the others painted with vermilion. the art of painting in any color is to mix the color desired with grease of one sort or another; and when well done, it will stick on for a day or two, if not longer. indians are not equal to the whites in the art of dyeing porcupine quills; their ingredients are altogether too simple and natural to equal the knowledge of chemicals. mr. denig dyed a good quantity to-day for mrs. culbertson; he boiled water in a tin kettle with the quills put in when the water boiled, to remove the oil attached naturally to them; next they were thoroughly washed, and fresh water boiled, wherein he placed the color wanted, and boiled the whole for a few minutes, when he looked at them to judge of the color, and so continued until all were dyed. red, yellow, green, and black quills were the result of his labors. a good deal of vegetable acid is necessary for this purpose, as minerals, so they say here, will not answer. i drew at mr. culbertson's portrait till he was tired enough; his wife--a pure indian--is much interested in my work. bell and sprague, after some long talk with harris about geological matters, of which valuable science he knows a good deal, went off to seek a wolf's hole that sprague had seen some days before, but of which, with his usual reticence, he had not spoken. sprague returned with a specimen of rattle-snake root, which he has already drawn. bell saw a wolf munching a bone, approached it and shot at it. the wolf had been wounded before and ran off slowly, and bell after it. mr. culbertson and i saw the race; bell gained on the wolf until within thirty steps when he fired again; the wolf ran some distance further, and then fell; but bell was now exhausted by the heat, which was intense, and left the animal where it lay without attempting to skin it. squires and provost returned this afternoon about three o'clock, but the first alone had killed a doe. it was the first one he had ever shot, and he placed seven buckshot in her body. owen went off one way, and harris and bell another, but brought in nothing. provost went off to the opposition camp, and when he returned told me that a porcupine was there, and would be kept until i saw it; so harris drove me over, at the usual breakneck pace, and i bought the animal. mr. collins is yet poorly, their hunters have not returned, and they are destitute of everything, not having even a medicine chest. we told him to send a man back with us, which he did, and we sent him some medicine, rice, and two bottles of claret. the weather has been much cooler and pleasanter than yesterday. _july , sunday._ i drew at a wolf's head, and sprague worked at a view of the fort for mr. culbertson. i also worked on mr. culbertson's portrait about an hour. i then worked at the porcupine, which is an animal such as i never saw or bell either. its measurements are: from nose to anterior canthus of the eye, - / in., posterior ditto, - / ; conch of ear, - / ; distances from eyes posteriorly, - / ; fore feet stretched beyond nose, - / ; length of head around, - / ; nose to root of tail, - / ; length of tail vertebræ, - / ; to end of hair, - / ; hind claws when stretched equal to end of tail; greatest breadth of palm, - / ; of sole, - / ; outward width of tail at base, - / ; depth of ditto, - / ; length of palm, - / ; ditto of sole, - / ; height at shoulder, ; at rump, - / ; longest hair on the back, - / ; breadth between ears, - / ; from nostril to split of upper lip, / ; upper incisors, / ; lower ditto, / ; tongue quite smooth; weight lbs. the habits of this animal are somewhat different from those of the canadian porcupine. the one of this country often goes in crevices or holes, and young mckenzie caught one in a wolf's den, along with the old wolf and seven young; they climb trees, however. provost tells me that wolves are oftentimes destroyed by wild horses, which he has seen run at the wolves head down, and when at a proper distance take them by the middle of the back with their teeth, and throw them several feet in the air, after which they stamp upon their bodies with the fore feet until quite dead. i have a bad blister on the heel of my right foot, and cannot walk without considerable pain. _july , monday._ squires, owen, mckenzie, and provost, with a mule, a cart, and peter the horse, went off at seven this morning for antelopes. bell did not feel well enough to go with them, and was unable to eat his usual meal, but i made him some good gruel, and he is better now. this afternoon harris went off on horseback after rabbits, and he will, i hope, have success. the day has been fine, and cool compared with others. i took a walk, and made a drawing of the beautiful sugar-loaf cactus; it does not open its blossoms until after the middle of the day, and closes immediately on being placed in the shade. _july , tuesday._ harris returned about ten o'clock last night, but saw no hares; how we are to procure any is more than i can tell. mr. culbertson says that it was dangerous for harris to go so far as he did alone up the country, and he must not try it again. the hunters returned this afternoon, but brought only one buck, which is, however, beautiful, and the horns in velvet so remarkable that i can hardly wait for daylight to begin drawing it. i have taken all the measurements of this perfect animal; it was shot by old provost. mr. culbertson--whose portrait is nearly finished--his wife, and i took a ride to look at some grass for hay, and found it beautiful and plentiful. we saw two wolves, a common one and a prairie one. bell is better. sprague has drawn another cactus; provost and i have now skinned the buck, and it hangs in the ice-house; the head, however, is untouched. _july , wednesday._ i rose before three, and began at once to draw the buck's head. bell assisted me to place it in the position i wanted, and as he felt somewhat better, while i drew, he finished the skin of the porcupine; so that is saved. sprague continued his painting of the fort. just after dinner a wolf was seen leisurely walking within one hundred yards of the fort. bell took the repeating rifle, went on the ramparts, fired, and missed it. mr. culbertson sent word to young owen mckenzie to get a horse and give it chase. all was ready in a few minutes, and off went the young fellow after the beast. i left my drawing long enough to see the pursuit, and was surprised to see that the wolf did not start off on a gallop till his pursuer was within one hundred yards or so of him, and who then gained rapidly. suddenly the old sinner turned, and the horse went past him some little distance. as soon as he could be turned about mckenzie closed upon him, his gun flashed twice; but now he was almost _à bon touchant_, the gun went off--the wolf was dead. i walked out to meet owen with the beast; it was very poor, very old, and good for nothing as a specimen. harris, who had shot at one last night in the late twilight, had killed it, but was not aware of it till i found the villain this morning. it had evidently been dragged at by its brothers, who, however, had not torn it. provost went over to the other fort to find out where the buffaloes are most abundant, and did not return till late, so did no hunting. a young dog of this country's breed ate up all the berries collected by mrs. culbertson, and her lord had it killed for our supper this evening. the poor thing was stuck with a knife in the throat, after which it was placed over a hot fire outside of the fort, singed, and the hair scraped off, as i myself have treated raccoons and opossums. then the animal was boiled, and i intend to taste one mouthful of it, for i cannot say that just now i should relish an entire meal from such peculiar fare. there are men, however, who much prefer the flesh to buffalo meat, or even venison. an ox was broken to work this day, and worked far better than i expected. i finished at last mr. culbertson's portrait, and it now hangs in a frame. he and his wife are much pleased with it, and i am heartily glad they are, for in conscience i am not; however, it is all i could do, especially with a man who is never in the same position for one whole minute; so no more can be expected. the dog was duly cooked and brought into mr. culbertson's room; he served it out to squires, mr. denig, and myself, and i was astonished when i tasted it. with great care and some repugnance i put a very small piece in my mouth; but no sooner had the taste touched my palate than i changed my dislike to liking, and found this victim of the canine order most excellent, and made a good meal, finding it fully equal to any meat i ever tasted. old provost had told me he preferred it to any meat, and his subsequent actions proved the truth of his words. we are having some music this evening, and harris alone is absent, being at his favorite evening occupation, namely, shooting at wolves from the ramparts. [illustration: audubon. from the pencil sketch by isaac sprague, . in the possession of the sprague family, wellesley hills, mass.] _july , thursday._ this has been a cloudy and a sultry day. sprague finished his drawing and i mine. after dinner mr. culbertson, squires, and myself went off nine miles over the prairies to look at the "meadows," as they are called, where mr. culbertson has heretofore cut his winter crop of hay, but we found it indifferent compared with that above the fort. we saw sharp-tailed grouse, and what we thought a new species of lark, which we shot at no less than ten times before it was killed by mr. culbertson, but not found. i caught one of its young, but it proved to be only the shore lark. before we reached the meadows we saw a flock of fifteen or twenty bob-o-link, _emberiza orizivora_, and on our return shot one of them (a male) on the wing. it is the first seen since we left st. louis. we reached the meadows at last, and tied our nag to a tree, with the privilege of feeding. mr. culbertson and squires went in the "meadows," and i walked round the so-called patch. i shot seven arkansas flycatchers on the wing. after an hour's walking, my companions returned, but had seen nothing except the fresh tracks of a grizzly bear. i shot at one of the white-rumped hawks, of which i have several times spoken, but although it dropped its quarry and flew very wildly afterwards, it went out of my sight. we found the beds of elks and their fresh dung, but saw none of these animals. i have forgotten to say that immediately after breakfast this morning i drove with squires to fort mortimer, and asked mr. collins to let me have his hunter, boucherville, to go after mountain rams for me, which he promised to do. in the afternoon he sent a man over to ask for some flour, which mr. culbertson sent him. they are there in the utmost state of destitution, almost of starvation, awaiting the arrival of the hunters like so many famished wolves. harris and bell went across the river and shot a wolf under the river bank, and afterwards a duck, but saw nothing else. but during their absence we have had a fine opportunity of witnessing the agility and extreme strength of a year-old buffalo bull belonging to the fort. our cook, who is an old spaniard, threw his lasso over the buffalo's horns, and all the men in the fort at the time, hauled and pulled the beast about, trying to get him close to a post. he kicked, pulled, leaped sideways, and up and down, snorting and pawing until he broke loose, and ran, as if quite wild, about the enclosure. he was tied again and again, without any success, and at last got out of the fort, but was soon retaken, the rope being thrown round his horns, and he was brought to the main post of the buffalo-robe press. there he was brought to a standstill, at the risk of breaking his neck, and the last remnant of his winter coat was removed by main strength, which was the object for which the poor animal had undergone all this trouble. after harris returned to the fort he saw six sharp-tailed grouse. at this season this species have no particular spot where you may rely upon finding them, and at times they fly through the woods, and for a great distance, too, where they alight on trees; when, unless you accidentally see them, you pass by without their moving. after we passed fort mortimer on our return we saw coming from the banks of the river no less than eighteen wolves, which altogether did not cover a space of more than three or four yards, they were so crowded. among them were two prairie wolves. had we had a good running horse some could have been shot; but old peter is long past his running days. the wolves had evidently been feeding on some carcass along the banks, and all moved very slowly. mr. culbertson gave me a grand pair of leather breeches and a very handsome knife-case, all manufactured by the blackfeet indians. _july , friday._ thermometer °- °. young mckenzie went off after antelopes across the river alone, but saw only one, which he could not get near. after breakfast harris, squires, and i started after birds of all sorts, with the wagon, and proceeded about six miles on the road we had travelled yesterday. we met the hunter from fort mortimer going for bighorns for me, and mr. culbertson lent him a horse and a mule. we caught two young of the shore lark, killed seven of sprague's lark, but by bad management lost two, either from the wagon, my hat, or harris's pockets. the weather was exceedingly hot. we hunted for grouse in the wormwood bushes, and after despairing of finding any, we started up three from the plain, and they flew not many yards to the river. we got out of the wagon and pushed for them; one rose, and harris shot it, though it flew some yards before he picked it up. he started another, and just as he was about to fire, his gunlock caught on his coat, and off went mr. grouse, over and through the woods until out of sight, and we returned slowly home. we saw ten wolves this morning. after dinner we had a curious sight. squires put on my indian dress. mckenzie put on one of mr. culbertson's, mrs. culbertson put on her own _superb_ dress, and the cook's wife put on the one mrs. culbertson had given me. squires and owen were painted in an awful manner by mrs. culbertson, the _ladies_ had their hair loose, and flying in the breeze, and then all mounted on horses with indian saddles and trappings. mrs. culbertson and her maid rode astride like men, and all rode a furious race, under whip the whole way, for more than one mile on the prairie; and how amazed would have been any european lady, or some of our modern belles who boast their equestrian skill, at seeing the magnificent riding of this indian princess--for that is mrs. culbertson's rank--and her servant. mr. culbertson rode with them, the horses running as if wild, with these extraordinary indian riders, mrs. culbertson's magnificent black hair floating like a banner behind her. as to the men (for two others had joined squires and mckenzie), i cannot compare them to anything in the whole creation. they ran like wild creatures of unearthly compound. hither and thither they dashed, and when the whole party had crossed the ravine below, they saw a fine wolf and gave the whip to their horses, and though the wolf cut to right and left owen shot at him with an arrow and missed, but mr. culbertson gave it chase, overtook it, his gun flashed, and the wolf lay dead. they then ascended the hills and away they went, with our princess and her faithful attendant in the van, and by and by the group returned to the camp, running full speed till they entered the fort, and all this in the intense heat of this july afternoon. mrs. culbertson, herself a wonderful rider, possessed of both strength and grace in a marked degree, assured me that squires was equal to any man in the country as a rider, and i saw for myself that he managed his horse as well as any of the party, and i was pleased to see him in his dress, ornaments, etc., looking, however, i must confess, after mrs. culbertson's painting his face, like a being from the infernal regions. mr. culbertson presented harris with a superb dress of the blackfoot indians, and also with a buffalo bull's head, for which harris had in turn presented him with a gun-barrel of the short kind, and well fitted to shoot buffaloes. harris shot a very young one of townsend's hare, mr. denig gave bell a mouse, which, although it resembles _mus leucopus_ greatly, is much larger, and has a short, thick, round tail, somewhat blunted. _july , saturday._ we were all up pretty early, for we propose going up the yellowstone with a wagon, and the skiff on a cart, should we wish to cross. after breakfast all of us except sprague, who did not wish to go, were ready, and along with two extra men, the wagon, and the cart, we crossed the missouri at the fort, and at nine were fairly under way--harris, bell, mr. culbertson, and myself in the wagon, squires, provost, and owen on horseback. we travelled rather slowly, until we had crossed the point, and headed the ponds on the prairie that run at the foot of the hills opposite. we saw one grouse, but it could not be started, though harris searched for it. we ran the wagon into a rut, but got out unhurt; however, i decided to walk for a while, and did so for about two miles, to the turning point of the hills. the wheels of our vehicle were very shackling, and had to be somewhat repaired, and though i expected they would fall to pieces, in some manner or other we proceeded on. we saw several antelopes, some on the prairie which we now travelled on, and many more on the tops of the hills, bounding westward. we stopped to water the horses at a saline spring, where i saw that buffaloes, antelopes, and other animals come to allay their thirst, and repose on the grassy margin. the water was too hot for us to drink, and we awaited the arrival of the cart, when we all took a good drink of the river water we had brought with us. after waiting for nearly an hour to allow the horses to bait and cool themselves, for it was very warm, we proceeded on, until we came to another watering-place, a river, in fact, which during spring overflows its banks, but now has only pools of water here and there. we soaked our wheels again, and again drank ourselves. squires, provost, and owen had left sometime before us, but were not out of our sight, when we started, and as we had been, and were yet, travelling a good track, we soon caught up with them. we shot a common red-winged starling, and heard the notes of what was supposed to be a new bird by my companions, but which to my ears was nothing more than the short-billed marsh wren of nuttall. we reached our camping-place, say perhaps twenty miles' distance, by four o'clock, and all things were unloaded, the horses put to grass, and two or three of the party went in "the point" above, to shoot something for supper. i was hungry myself, and taking the red-wing and the fishing-line, i went to the river close by, and had the good fortune to catch four fine catfish, when, my bait giving out, i was obliged to desist, as i found that these catfish will not take parts of their own kind as food. provost had taken a bath, and rowed the skiff (which we had brought this whole distance on the cart, dragged by a mule) along with two men, across the river to seek for game on the point opposite our encampment. they returned, however, without having shot anything, and my four catfish were all the fresh provisions that we had, and ten of us partook of them with biscuit, coffee, and claret. dusk coming on, the tent was pitched, and preparations to rest made. some chose one spot and some another, and after a while we were settled. mr. culbertson and i lay together on the outside of the tent, and all the party were more or less drowsy. about this time we saw a large black cloud rising in the west; it was heavy and lowering, and about ten o'clock, when most of us were pretty nearly sound asleep, the distant thunder was heard, the wind rose to a gale, and the rain began falling in torrents. all were on foot in a few moments, and considerable confusion ensued. our guns, all loaded with balls, were hurriedly placed under the tent, our beds also, and we all crawled in, in the space of a very few minutes. the wind blew so hard that harris was obliged to hold the flappers of the tent with both hands, and sat in the water a considerable time to do this. old provost alone did not come in, he sat under the shelving bank of the river, and kept dry. after the gale was over, he calmly lay down in front of the tent on the saturated ground, and was soon asleep. during the gale, our fire, which we had built to keep off the myriads of mosquitoes, blew in every direction, and we had to watch the embers to keep them from burning the tent. after all was over, we snugged ourselves the best way we could in our small tent and under the wagon, and slept soundly till daylight. mr. culbertson had fixed himself pretty well, but on arising at daylight to smoke his pipe, squires immediately crept into his comfortable corner, and snored there till the day was well begun. mr. culbertson had my knees for a pillow, and also my hat, i believe, for in the morning, although the first were not hurt, the latter was sadly out of shape in all parts. we had nothing for our breakfast except some vile coffee, and about three quarters of a sea-biscuit, which was soon settled among us. the men, poor fellows, had nothing at all. provost had seen two deer, but had had no shot, so of course we were in a quandary, but it is now-- _july , sunday._ the weather pleasant with a fine breeze from the westward, and all eyes were bent upon the hills and prairie, which is here of great breadth, to spy if possible some object that might be killed and eaten. presently a wolf was seen, and owen went after it, and it was not until he had disappeared below the first low range of hills, and owen also, that the latter came within shot of the rascal, which dodged in all sorts of manners; but owen would not give up, and after shooting more than once, he killed the beast. a man had followed him to help bring in the wolf, and when near the river he saw a buffalo, about two miles off, grazing peaceably, as he perhaps thought, safe in his own dominions; but, alas! white hunters had fixed their eyes upon him, and from that moment his doom was pronounced. mr. culbertson threw down his hat, bound his head with a handkerchief, his saddle was on his mare, he was mounted and off and away at a swift gallop, more quickly than i can describe, not towards the buffalo, but towards the place where owen had killed the wolf. the man brought the wolf on old peter, and owen, who was returning to the camp, heard the signal gun fired by mr. culbertson, and at once altered his course; his mare was evidently a little heated and blown by the wolf chase, but both hunters went after the buffalo, slowly at first, to rest owen's steed, but soon, when getting within running distance, they gave whip, overhauled the bison, and shot at it twice with balls; this halted the animal; the hunters had no more balls, and now loaded with pebbles, with which the poor beast was finally killed. the wagon had been sent from the camp. harris, bell, and squires mounted on horseback, and travelled to the scene of action. they met mr. culbertson returning to camp, and he told bell the buffalo was a superb one, and had better be skinned. a man was sent to assist in the skinning who had been preparing the wolf which was now cooking, as we had expected to dine upon its flesh; but when mr. culbertson returned, covered with blood and looking like a wild indian, it was decided to throw it away; so i cut out the liver, and old provost and i went fishing and caught eighteen catfish. i hooked two tortoises, but put them back in the river. i took a good swim, which refreshed me much, and i came to dinner with a fine appetite. this meal consisted wholly of fish, and we were all fairly satisfied. before long the flesh of the buffalo reached the camp, as well as the hide. the animal was very fat, and we have meat for some days. it was now decided that squires, provost, and basil (one of the men) should proceed down the river to the charbonneau, and there try their luck at otters and beavers, and the rest of us, with the cart, would make our way back to the fort. all was arranged, and at half-past three this afternoon we were travelling towards fort union. but hours previous to this, and before our scanty dinner, owen had seen another bull, and harris and bell joined us in the hunt. the bull was shot at by mckenzie, who stopped its career, but as friend harris pursued it with two of the hunters and finished it i was about to return, and thought sport over for the day. however, at this stage of the proceedings owen discovered another bull making his way slowly over the prairie towards us. i was the only one who had balls, and would gladly have claimed the privilege of running him, but fearing i might make out badly on my slower steed, and so lose meat which we really needed, i handed my gun and balls to owen mckenzie, and bell and i went to an eminence to view the chase. owen approached the bull, which continued to advance, and was now less than a quarter of a mile distant; either it did not see, or did not heed him, and they came directly towards each other, until they were about seventy or eighty yards apart, when the buffalo started at a good run, and owen's mare, which had already had two hard runs this morning, had great difficulty in preserving her distance. owen, perceiving this, breathed her a minute, and then applying the whip was soon within shooting distance, and fired a shot which visibly checked the progress of the bull, and enabled owen to soon be alongside of him, when the contents of the second barrel were discharged into the lungs, passing through the shoulder blade. this brought him to a stand. bell and i now started at full speed, and as soon as we were within speaking distance, called to owen not to shoot again. the bull did not appear to be much exhausted, but he was so stiffened by the shot on the shoulder that he could not turn quickly, and taking advantage of this we approached him; as we came near he worked himself slowly round to face us, and then made a lunge at us; we then stopped on one side and commenced discharging our pistols with little or no effect, except to increase his fury with every shot. his appearance was now one to inspire terror had we not felt satisfied of our ability to avoid him. however, even so, i came very near being overtaken by him. through my own imprudence, i placed myself directly in front of him, and as he advanced i fired at his head, and then ran _ahead_ of him, instead of veering to one side, not supposing that he was able to overtake me; but turning my head over my shoulder, i saw to my horror, mr. bull within three feet of me, prepared to give me a taste of his horns. the next instant i turned sharply off, and the buffalo being unable to turn quickly enough to follow me, bell took the gun from owen and shot him directly behind the shoulder blade. he tottered for a moment, with an increased jet of blood from the mouth and nostrils, fell forward on his horns, then rolled over on his side, and was dead. he was a very old animal, in poor case, and only part of him was worth taking to the fort. provost, squires, and basil were left at the camp preparing for their departure after otter and beaver as decided. we left them eight or nine catfish and a quantity of meat, of which they took care to secure the best, namely the boss or hump. on our homeward way we saw several antelopes, some quite in the prairie, others far away on the hills, but all of them on the alert. owen tried unsuccessfully to approach several of them at different times. at one place where two were seen he dismounted, and went round a small hill (for these animals when startled or suddenly alarmed always make to these places), and we hoped would have had a shot; but alas! no! one of the antelopes ran off to the top of another hill, and the other stood looking at him, and us perhaps, till owen (who had been re-mounted) galloped off towards us. my surprise was great when i saw the other antelope following him at a good pace (but not by bounds or leaps, as i had been told by a former traveller they sometimes did), until it either smelt him, or found out he was no friend, and turning round galloped speedily off to join the one on the lookout. we saw seven or eight grouse, and bell killed one on the ground. we saw a sand-hill crane about two years old, looking quite majestic in a grassy bottom, but it flew away before we were near enough to get a shot. we passed a fine pond or small lake, but no bird was there. we saw several parcels of ducks in sundry places, all of which no doubt had young near. when we turned the corner of the great prairie we found owen's mare close by us. she had run away while he was after antelopes. we tied her to a log to be ready for him when he should reach the spot. he had to walk about three miles before he did this. however, to one as young and alert as owen, such things are nothing. once they were not to me. we saw more antelope at a distance, here called "cabris," and after a while we reached the wood near the river, and finding abundance of service-berries, we all got out to break branches of these plants, mr. culbertson alone remaining in the wagon; he pushed on for the landing. we walked after him munching our berries, which we found very good, and reached the landing as the sun was going down behind the hills. young mckenzie was already there, having cut across the point. we decided on crossing the river ourselves, and leaving all behind us except our guns. we took to the ferry-boat, cordelled it up the river for a while, then took to the nearest sand-bar, and leaping into the mud and water, hauled the heavy boat, bell and harris steering and poling the while. i had pulled off my shoes and socks, and when we reached the shore walked up to the fort barefooted, and made my feet quite sore again; but we have had a rest and a good supper, and i am writing in mr. culbertson's room, thinking over all god's blessings on this delightful day. _july , monday._ a beautiful day, with a west wind. sprague, who is very industrious at all times, drew some flowers, and i have been busy both writing and drawing. in the afternoon bell went after rabbits, but saw one only, which he could not get, and sprague walked to the hills about two miles off, but could not see any portion of the yellowstone river, which mr. catlin has given in his view, as if he had been in a balloon some thousands of feet above the earth. two men arrived last evening by land from fort pierre, and brought a letter, but no news of any importance; one is a cook as well as a hunter, the other named wolff, a german, and a tinsmith by trade, though now a trapper. _july , tuesday._ when i went to bed last night the mosquitoes were so numerous downstairs that i took my bed under my arm and went to a room above, where i slept well. on going down this morning, i found two other persons from fort pierre, and mr. culbertson very busy reading and writing letters. immediately after breakfast young mckenzie and another man were despatched on mules, with a letter for mr. kipp, and owen expects to overtake the boat in three or four days. an indian arrived with a stolen squaw, both assiniboins; and i am told such things are of frequent occurrence among these sons of nature. mr. culbertson proposed that we should take a ride to see the mowers, and harris and i joined him. we found the men at work, among them one called bernard adams, of charleston, s.c., who knew the bachmans quite well, and who had read the whole of the "biographies of birds." leaving the men, we entered a ravine in search of plants, etc., and having started an owl, which i took for the barred one, i left my horse and went in search of it, but could not see it, and hearing a new note soon saw a bird not to be mistaken, and killed it, when it proved, as i expected, to be the rock wren; then i shot another sitting by the mouth of a hole. the bird did not fly off; mr. culbertson watched it closely, but when the hole was demolished no bird was to be found. harris saw a shrike, but of what species he could not tell, and he also found some rock wrens in another ravine. we returned to the fort and promised to visit the place this afternoon, which we have done, and procured three more wrens, and killed the owl, which proves to be precisely the resemblance of the northern specimen of the great horned owl, which we published under another name. the rock wren, which might as well be called the ground wren, builds its nest in holes, and now the young are well able to fly, and we procured one in the act. in two instances we saw these birds enter a hole here, and an investigation showed a passage or communication, and on my pointing out a hole to bell where one had entered, he pushed his arm in and touched the little fellow, but it escaped by running up his arm and away it flew. black clouds now arose in the west, and we moved homewards. harris and bell went to the mowers to get a drink of water, and we reached home without getting wet, though it rained violently for some time, and the weather is much cooler. not a word yet from provost and squires. _july , wednesday._ squires and provost returned early this morning, and again i give the former my journal that i may have the account of the hunt in his own words. "as mr. audubon has said, he left provost, basil, and myself making ready for our voyage down the yellowstone. the party for the fort were far in the blue distance ere we bid adieu to our camping-ground. we had wished the return party a pleasant ride and safe arrival at the fort as they left us, looking forward to a good supper, and what i _now_ call a comfortable bed. we seated ourselves around some boiled buffalo hump, which, as has been before said, we took good care to appropriate to ourselves according to the established rule of this country, which is, 'when you can, take the best,' and we had done so in this case, more to our satisfaction than to that of the hunters. our meal finished, we packed everything we had in the skiff, and were soon on our way down the yellowstone, happy as could be; provost acting pilot, basil oarsman, and your humble servant seated on a buffalo robe, quietly smoking, and looking on the things around. we found the general appearance of the yellowstone much like the missouri, but with a stronger current, and the water more muddy. after a voyage of two hours charbonneau river made its appearance, issuing from a clump of willows; the mouth of this river we found to be about ten feet wide, and so shallow that we were obliged to push our boat over the slippery mud for about forty feet. this passed, we entered a pond formed by the contraction of the mouth and the collection of mud and sticks thereabouts, the pond so formed being six or eight feet deep, and about fifty feet wide, extending about a mile up the river, which is very crooked indeed. for about half a mile from the yellowstone the shore is lined with willows, beyond which is a level prairie, and on the shores of the stream just beyond the willows are a few scattered trees. about a quarter of a mile from the mouth of the river, we discovered what we were in search of, the beaver lodge. to measure it was impossible, as it was not perfect, in the first place, in the next it was so muddy that we could not get ashore, but as well as i can i will describe it. the lodge is what is called the summer lodge; it was comprised wholly of brush, willow chiefly, with a single hole for the entrance and exit of the beaver. the pile resembled, as much as anything to which i can compare it, a brush heap about six feet high, and about ten or fifteen feet base, and standing seven or eight feet from the water. there were a few beaver tracks about, which gave us some encouragement. we proceeded to our camping-ground on the edge of the prairie; here we landed all our baggage; while basil made a fire, provost and i started to set our traps--the two extremes of hunters, the skilful old one, and the ignorant pupil; but i was soon initiated in the art of setting beaver traps, and to the uninitiated let me say, '_first_, find your game, _then_ catch it,' if you can. the first we did, the latter we tried to do. we proceeded to the place where the greatest number of tracks were seen, and commenced operations. at the place where the path enters the water, and about four inches beneath the surface, a level place is made in the mud, upon which the trap is placed, the chain is then fastened to a stake which is firmly driven in the ground under water. the end of a willow twig is then chewed and dipped in the 'medicine horn,' which contains the bait; this consists of castoreum mixed with spices; a quantity is collected on the chewed end of the twig, the stick is then placed or stuck in the mud on the edge of the water, leaving the part with the bait about two inches above the surface and in front of the trap; on each side the bait and about six inches from it, two dried twigs are placed in the ground; this done, all's done, and we are ready for the visit of monsieur castor. we set two traps, and returned to our camp, where we had supper, then pitched our tent and soon were sound asleep, but before we were asleep we heard a beaver dive, and slap his tail, which sounded like the falling of a round stone in the water; here was encouragement again. in the morning (monday) we examined our traps and found--nothing. we did not therefore disturb the traps, but examined farther up the river, where we discovered other tracks and resolved to set our traps there, as provost concluded that there was but one beaver, and that a male. we returned to camp and made a good breakfast on buffalo meat and coffee, _sans_ salt, _sans_ pepper, _sans_ sugar, _sans_ anything else of any kind. after breakfast provost shot a doe. in the afternoon we removed one trap, basil and i gathered some wild-gooseberries which i stewed for supper, and made a sauce, which, though _rather acid_, was very good with our meat. the next morning, after again examining our traps and finding nothing, we decided to raise camp, which was accordingly done; everything was packed in the skiff, and we proceeded to the mouth of the river. the water had fallen so much since we had entered, as to oblige us to strip, jump in the mud, and haul the skiff over; rich and rare was the job; the mud was about half thigh deep, and a kind of greasy, sticky, black stuff, with a something about it so very peculiar as to be _rather_ unpleasant; however, we did not mind much, and at last got into the yellowstone, scraped and washed the mud off, and encamped on a prairie about one hundred yards below the charbonneau. it was near sunset; provost commenced fishing; we joined him, and in half an hour we caught sixteen catfish, quite large ones. during the day provost started to the mauvaises terres to hunt bighorns, but returned unsuccessful. he baited his traps for the last time. during his absence thunder clouds were observed rising all around us; we stretched our tent, removed everything inside it, ate our supper of meat and coffee, and then went to bed. it rained some part of the night, but not enough to wet through the tent. the next morning (tuesday) at daylight, provost started to examine his traps, while we at the camp put everything in the boat, and sat down to await his return, when we proceeded on our voyage down the yellowstone to fort mortimer, and from thence by land to fort union. nothing of any interest occurred except that we saw two does, one young and one buck of the bighorns; i fired at the buck which was on a high cliff about a hundred and fifty yards from us; i fired above it to allow for the falling of the ball, but the gun shot so well as to carry where i aimed. the animal was a very large buck; provost says one of the largest he had seen. as soon as i fired he started and ran along the side of the hill which looked almost perpendicular, and i was much astonished, not only at the feat, but at the surprising quickness with which he moved along, with no apparent foothold. we reached fort mortimer about seven o'clock; i left basil and provost with the skiff, and i started for fort union on foot to send a cart for them. on my way i met mr. audubon about to pay a visit to fort mortimer; i found all well, despatched the cart, changed my clothes, and feel none the worse for my five days' camping, and quite ready for a dance i hear we are to have to-night." this morning as i walked to fort mortimer, meeting squires as he has said, well and happy as a lark, i was surprised to see a good number of horses saddled, and packed in different ways, and i hastened on to find what might be the matter. when i entered the miserable house in which mr. collins sleeps and spends his time when not occupied out of doors, he told me thirteen men and seven squaws were about to start for the lakes, thirty-five miles off, to kill buffaloes and dry their meat, as the last his hunters brought in was already putrid. i saw the cavalcade depart in an e.n.e. direction, remained a while, and then walked back. mr. collins promised me half a dozen balls from young animals. provost was discomfited and crestfallen at the failure of the beaver hunt; he brought half a doe and about a dozen fine catfish. mr. culbertson and i are going to see the mowers, and to-morrow we start on a grand buffalo hunt, and hope for antelopes, wolves, and foxes. _july , thursday._ we were up early, and had our breakfast shortly after four o'clock, and before eight had left the landing of the fort, and were fairly under way for the prairies. our equipment was much the same as before, except that we had two carts this time. mr. c. drove harris, bell, and myself, and the others rode on the carts and led the hunting horses, or runners, as they are called here. i observed a rabbit running across the road, and saw some flowers different from any i had ever seen. after we had crossed a bottom prairie, we ascended between the high and rough ravines until we were on the rolling grounds of the plains. the fort showed well from this point, and we also saw a good number of antelopes, and some young ones. these small things run even faster than the old ones. as we neared the fox river some one espied four buffaloes, and mr. c., taking the telescope, showed them to me, lying on the ground. our heads and carts were soon turned towards them, and we travelled within half a mile of them, concealed by a ridge or hill which separated them from us. the wind was favorable, and we moved on slowly round the hill, the hunters being now mounted. harris and bell had their hats on, but owen and mr. culbertson had their heads bound with handkerchiefs. with the rest of the party i crawled on the ridge, and saw the bulls running away, but in a direction favorable for us to see the chase. on the word of command the horses were let loose, and away went the hunters, who soon were seen to gain on the game; two bulls ran together and mr. c. and bell followed after them, and presently one after another of the hunters followed them. mr. c. shot first, and his bull stopped at the fire, walked towards where i was, and halted about sixty yards from me. his nose was within a few inches of the ground; the blood poured from his mouth, nose, and side, his tail hung down, but his legs looked as firm as ever, but in less than two minutes the poor beast fell on his side, and lay quite dead. bell and mr. culbertson went after the second. harris took the third, and squires the fourth. bell's shot took effect in the buttock, and mr. culbertson shot, placing his ball a few inches above or below bell's; after this mr. culbertson ran no more. at this moment squires's horse threw him over his head, fully ten feet; he fell on his powder-horn and was severely bruised; he cried to harris to catch his horse, and was on his legs at once, but felt sick for a few minutes. harris, who was as cool as a cucumber, neared his bull, shot it through the lungs, and it fell dead on the spot. bell was now seen in full pursuit of his game, and harris joined squires, and followed the fourth, which, however, was soon out of my sight. i saw bell shooting two or three times, and i heard the firing of squires and perhaps harris, but the weather was hot, and being afraid of injuring their horses, they let the fourth bull make his escape. bell's bull fell on his knees, got up again, and rushed on bell, and was shot again. the animal stood a minute with his tail partially elevated, and then fell dead; through some mishap bell had no knife with him, so did not bring the tongue, as is customary. mr. culbertson walked towards the first bull and i joined him. it was a fine animal about seven years old; harris's and bell's were younger. the first was fat, and was soon skinned and cut up for meat. mr. culbertson insisted on calling it my bull, so i cut off the brush of the tail and placed it in my hat-band. we then walked towards harris, who was seated on his bull, and the same ceremony took place, and while they were cutting the animal up for meat, bell, who said he thought his bull was about three quarters of a mile distant, went off with me to see it; we walked at least a mile and a half, and at last came to it. it was a poor one, and the tongue and tail were all we took away, and we rejoined the party, who had already started the cart with mr. pike, who was told to fall to the rear, and reach the fort before sundown; this he could do readily, as we were not more than six miles distant. mr. culbertson broke open the head of "my" bull, and ate part of the brains raw, and yet warm, and so did many of the others, even squires. the very sight of this turned my stomach, but i am told that were i to hunt buffalo one year, i should like it "even better than dog meat." mr. pike did not reach the fort till the next morning about ten, i will say _en passant_. we continued our route, passing over the same road on which we had come, and about midway between the missouri and yellowstone rivers. we saw more antelopes, but not one wolf; these rascals are never abundant where game is scarce, but where game is, there too are the wolves. when we had travelled about ten miles further we saw seven buffaloes grazing on a hill, but as the sun was about one hour high, we drove to one side of the road where there was a pond of water, and there stopped for the night; while the hunters were soon mounted, and with squires they went off, leaving the men to arrange the camp. i crossed the pond, and having ascended the opposite bank, saw the bulls grazing as leisurely as usual. the hunters near them, they started down the hill, and the chase immediately began. one broke from the rest and was followed by mr. c. who shot it, and then abandoned the hunt, his horse being much fatigued. i now counted ten shots, but all was out of my sight, and i seated myself near a fox hole, longing for him. the hunters returned in time; bell and harris had killed one, but squires had no luck, owing to his being unable to continue the chase on account of the injury he had received from his fall. we had a good supper, having brought abundance of eatables and drinkables. the tent was pitched; i put up my mosquito-bar under the wagon, and there slept very soundly till sunrise. harris and bell wedged together under another bar, mr. c. went into the tent, and squires, who is tough and likes to rough it with the hunters, slept on a buffalo hide somewhere with moncrévier, one of the most skilful of the hunters. the horses were all hoppled and turned to grass; they, however, went off too far, and had to be sent after, but i heard nothing of all this. as there is no wood on the prairies proper, our fire was made of buffalo dung, which is so abundant that one meets these deposits at every few feet and in all directions. _july , friday._ we were up at sunrise, and had our coffee, after which lafleur a mulatto, harris, and bell went off after antelopes, for we cared no more about bulls; where the cows are, we cannot tell. cows run faster than bulls, yearlings faster than cows, and calves faster than any of these. squires felt sore, and his side was very black, so we took our guns and went after black-breasted lark buntings, of which we saw many, but could not near them. i found a nest of them, however, with five eggs. the nest is planted in the ground, deep enough to sink the edges of it. it is formed of dried fine grasses and roots, without any lining of hair or wool. by and by we saw harris sitting on a high hill about one mile off, and joined him; he said the bulls they had killed last evening were close by, and i offered to go and see the bones, for i expected that the wolves had devoured it during the night. we travelled on, and squires returned to the camp. after about two miles of walking against a delightful strong breeze, we reached the animals; ravens or buzzards had worked at the eyes, but only one wolf, apparently, had been there. they were bloated, and smelt quite unpleasant. we returned to the camp and saw a wolf cross our path, and an antelope looking at us. we determined to stop and try to bring him to us; i lay on my back and threw my legs up, kicking first one and then the other foot, and sure enough the antelope walked towards us, slowly and carefully, however. in about twenty minutes he had come two or three hundred yards; he was a superb male, and i looked at him for some minutes; when about sixty yards off i could see his eyes, and being loaded with buck-shot pulled the trigger without rising from my awkward position. off he went; harris fired, but he only ran the faster for some hundred yards, when he turned, looked at us again, and was off. when we reached camp we found bell there; he had shot three times at antelopes without killing; lafleur had also returned, and had broken the foreleg of one, but an antelope can run fast enough with three legs, and he saw no more of it. we now broke camp, arranged the horses and turned our heads towards the missouri, and in four and three-quarter hours reached the landing. on entering the wood we again broke branches of service-berries, and carried a great quantity over the river. i much enjoyed the trip; we had our supper, and soon to bed in our hot room, where sprague says the thermometer has been at ° most of the day. i noticed it was warm when walking. i must not forget to notice some things which happened on our return. first, as we came near fox river, we thought of the horns of our bulls, and mr. culbertson, who knows the country like a book, drove us first to bell's, who knocked the horns off, then to harris's, which was served in the same manner; this bull had been eaten entirely except the head, and a good portion of mine had been devoured also; it lay immediately under "audubon's bluff" (the name mr. culbertson gave the ridge on which i stood to see the chase), and we could see it when nearly a mile distant. bell's horns were the handsomest and largest, mine next best, and harris's the smallest, but we are all contented. mr. culbertson tells me that harris and bell have done wonders, for persons who have never shot at buffaloes from on horseback. harris had a fall too, during his second chase, and was bruised in the manner of squires, but not so badly. i have but little doubt that squires killed his bull, as he says he shot it three times, and mr. culbertson's must have died also. what a terrible destruction of life, as it were for nothing, or next to it, as the tongues only were brought in, and the flesh of these fine animals was left to beasts and birds of prey, or to rot on the spots where they fell. the prairies are literally _covered_ with the skulls of the victims, and the roads the buffalo make in crossing the prairies have all the appearance of heavy wagon tracks. we saw young golden eagles, ravens, and buzzards. i found the short-billed marsh wren quite abundant, and in such localities as it is found eastward. the black-breasted prairie-bunting flies much like a lark, hovering while singing, and sweeping round and round, over and above its female while she sits on the eggs on the prairie below. i saw only one gadwall duck; these birds are found in abundance on the plains where water and rushes are to be found. alas! alas! eighteen assiniboins have reached the fort this evening in two groups; they are better-looking than those previously seen by us. _july , saturday._ thermometer °- °. this day has been the hottest of the season, and we all felt the influence of this densely oppressive atmosphere, not a breath of air stirring. immediately after breakfast provost and lafleur went across the river in search of antelopes, and we remained looking at the indians, all assiniboins, and very dirty. when and where mr. catlin saw these indians as he has represented them, dressed in magnificent attire, with all sorts of extravagant accoutrements, is more than i can divine, or mr. culbertson tell me. the evening was so hot and sultry that mr. c. and i went into the river, which is now very low, and remained in the water over an hour. a dozen catfish were caught in the main channel, and we have had a good supper from part of them. finding the weather so warm i have had my bed brought out on the gallery below, and so has squires. the indians are, as usual, shut _out_ of the fort, all the horses, young buffaloes, etc., shut _in_; and much refreshed by my bath, i say god bless you, and good-night. _july , sunday._ thermometer °. i had a very pleasant night, and no mosquitoes, as the breeze rose a little before i lay down; and i anticipated a heavy thunder storm, but we had only a few drops of rain. about one o'clock harris was called to see one of the indians, who was bleeding at the nose profusely, and i too went to see the poor devil. he had bled quite enough, and harris stopped his nostrils with cotton, put cold water on his neck and head--god knows when they had felt it before--and the bleeding stopped. these dirty fellows had made a large fire between the walls of the fort, but outside the inner gates, and it was a wonder that the whole establishment was not destroyed by fire. before sunrise they were pounding at the gate to be allowed to enter, but, of course, this was not permitted. when the sun had fairly risen, some one came and told me the hill-tops were covered with indians, probably blackfeet. i walked to the back gate, and the number had dwindled, or the account been greatly exaggerated, for there seemed only fifty or sixty, and when, later, they were counted, there were found to be exactly seventy. they remained a long time on the hill, and sent a youth to ask for whiskey. but whiskey there is none for them, and very little for any one. by and by they came down the hill leading four horses, and armed principally with bows and arrows, spears, tomahawks, and a few guns. they have proved to be a party of crees from the british dominions on the saskatchewan river, and have been fifteen days in travelling here. they had seen few buffaloes, and were hungry and thirsty enough. they assured mr. culbertson that the hudson's bay company supplied them all with abundance of spirituous liquors, and as the white traders on the missouri had none for them, they would hereafter travel with the english. now ought not this subject to be brought before the press in our country and forwarded to england? if our congress will not allow our traders to sell whiskey or rum to the indians, why should not the british follow the same rule? surely the british, who are so anxious about the emancipation of the blacks, might as well take care of the souls and bodies of the redskins. after a long talk and smoking of pipes, tobacco, flints, powder, gun-screws and vermilion were placed before their great chief (who is tattooed and has a most rascally look), who examined everything minutely, counting over the packets of vermilion; more tobacco was added, a file, and a piece of white cotton with which to adorn his head; then he walked off, followed by his son, and the whole posse left the fort. they passed by the garden, pulled up a few squash vines and some turnips, and tore down a few of the pickets on their way elsewhere. we all turned to, and picked a quantity of peas, which with a fine roast pig, made us a capital dinner. after this, seeing the assiniboins loitering about the fort, we had some tobacco put up as a target, and many arrows were sent to enter the prize, but i never saw indians--usually so skilful with their bows--shoot worse in my life. presently some one cried there were buffaloes on the hill, and going to see we found that four bulls were on the highest ridge standing still. the horses being got in the yard, the guns were gathered, saddles placed, and the riders mounted, mr. c., harris, and bell; squires declined going, not having recovered from his fall, mr. c. led his followers round the hills by the ravines, and approached the bulls quite near, when the affrighted cattle ran down the hills and over the broken grounds, out of our sight, followed by the hunters. when i see game chased by mr. culbertson, i feel confident of its being killed, and in less than one hour he had killed two bulls, harris and bell each one. thus these poor animals which two hours before were tranquilly feeding are now dead; short work this. harris and bell remained on the hills to watch the wolves, and carts being ordered, mr. c. and i went off on horseback to the second one he had killed. we found it entire, and i began to operate upon it at once; after making what measurements and investigations i desired, i saved the head, the tail, and a large piece of the silky skin from the rump. the meat of three of the bulls was brought to the fort, the fourth was left to rot on the ground. mr. c. cut his finger severely, but paid no attention to that; i, however, tore a strip off my shirt and bound it up for him. it is so hot i am going to sleep on the gallery again; the thermometer this evening is °. _july , monday._ i had a fine sleep last night, and this morning early a slight sprinkling of rain somewhat refreshed the earth. after breakfast we talked of going to see if mr. culbertson's bull had been injured by the wolves. mr. c., harris, and i went off to the spot by a roundabout way, and when we reached the animal it was somewhat swollen, but untouched, but we made up our minds to have it weighed, _coute qui coute_. harris proposed to remain and watch it, looking for hares meantime, but saw none. the wolves must be migratory at this season, or so starved out that they have gone elsewhere, as we now see but few. we returned first to the fort, and mustered three men and bell, for sprague would not go, being busy drawing a plant, and finding the heat almost insupportable. we carried all the necessary implements, and found harris quite ready to drink some claret and water which we took for him. to cut up so large a bull, and one now with so dreadful an odor, was no joke; but with the will follows the success, and in about one hour the poor beast had been measured and weighed, and we were once more _en route_ for the fort. this bull measured as follows: from end of nose to root of tail, inches; height at shoulder, inches; at rump, inches; tail vertebræ, ½ inches, hair in length beyond it inches. we weighed the whole animal by cutting it in parts and then by addition found that this buffalo, which was an old bull, weighed lbs. avoirdupois. the flesh was all tainted, and was therefore left for the beasts of prey. our road was over high hills, and presented to our searching eyes a great extent of broken ground, and here and there groups of buffaloes grazing. this afternoon we are going to bring in the skeleton of mr. culbertson's second bull. i lost the head of my first bull because i forgot to tell mrs. culbertson that i wished to save it, and the princess had its skull broken open to enjoy its brains. handsome, and really courteous and refined in many ways, i cannot reconcile to myself the fact that she partakes of raw animal food with such evident relish. before our departure, in came six half-breeds, belonging, or attached to fort mortimer; and understanding that they were first-rate hunters, i offered them ten dollars in goods for each bighorn up to eight or ten in number. they have promised to go to-morrow, but, alas! the half-breeds are so uncertain i cannot tell whether they will move a step or not. mrs. culbertson, who has great pride in her pure indian blood, told me with scorn that "all such no-color fellows are lazy." we were delayed in starting by a very heavy gale of wind and hard rain, which cooled the weather considerably; but we finally got off in the wagon, the cart with three mules following, to bring in the skeleton of the buffalo which mr. culbertson had killed; but we were defeated, for some wolves had been to it, dragged it about twenty-five feet, and gnawed the ends of the ribs and the backbone. the head of harris's bull was brought in, but it was smaller; the horns alone were pretty good, and they were given to sprague. on our return mrs. culbertson was good enough to give me six young mallards, which she had caught by swimming after them in the missouri; she is a most expert and graceful swimmer, besides being capable of remaining under water a long time; all the blackfoot indians excel in swimming and take great pride in the accomplishment. we found three of the assiniboins had remained, one of whom wanted to carry off a squaw, and probably a couple of horses too. he strutted about the fort in such a manner that we watched him pretty closely. mr. culbertson took his gun, and a six-barrelled pistol in his pocket; i, my double-barrelled gun, and we stood at the back gate. the fellow had a spear made of a cut-and-thrust sword, planted in a good stick covered with red cloth, and this he never put down at any time; but no more, indeed, do any indians, who carry all their goods and chattels forever about their persons. the three gentlemen, however, went off about dusk, and took the road to fort mortimer, where six half-breeds from the northeast brought to fort mortimer eleven head of cattle, and came to pay a visit to their friends here. all these men know provost, and have inquired for him. i feel somewhat uneasy about provost and la fleur, who have now been gone four full days. the prairie is wet and damp, so i must sleep indoors. the bull we cut up was not a fat one; i think in good condition it would have weighed lbs. _july , tuesday._ we were all rather lazy this morning, but about dinner-time owen and his man arrived, and told us they had reached mr. kipp and his boat at the crossings within about half a mile of fort alexander; that his men were all broken down with drawing the cordelle through mud and water, and that they had lost a white horse, which, however, owen saw on his way, and on the morning of his start from this fort. about the same time he shot a large porcupine, and killed four bulls and one cow to feed upon, as well as three rattlesnakes. they saw a large number of buffalo cows, and we are going after them to-morrow morning bright and early. about two hours later provost and la fleur, about whom i had felt some uneasiness, came to the landing, and brought the heads and skins attached to two female antelopes. both had been killed by one shot from la fleur, and his ball broke the leg of a third. provost was made quite sick by the salt water he had drunk; he killed one doe, on which they fed as well as on the flesh of the "cabris." whilst following the mauvaises terres (broken lands), they saw about twenty bighorns, and had not the horse on which provost rode been frightened at the sight of a monstrous buck of these animals, he would have shot it down within twenty yards. they saw from fifteen to twenty buffalo cows, and we hope some of the hunters will come up with them to-morrow. i have been drawing the head of one of these beautiful female antelopes; but their horns puzzle me, and all of us; they seem to me as if they were _new_ horns, soft and short; time, however, will prove whether they shed them or not. our preparations are already made for preserving the skins of the antelopes, and sprague is making an outline which i hope will be finished before the muscles of the head begin to soften. not a word from the six hunters who promised to go after bighorns on the yellowstone. _july , wednesday._ we were all on foot before daybreak and had our breakfast by an early hour, and left on our trip for buffalo cows. the wagon was sent across by hauling it through the east channel, which is now quite low, and across the sand-bars, which now reach seven-eighths of the distance across the river. we crossed in the skiff, and walked to the ferry-boat--i barefooted, as well as mr. culbertson; others wore boots or moccasins, but my feet have been tender of late, and this is the best cure. whilst looking about for sticks to support our mosquito bars, i saw a rabbit standing before me, within a few steps, but i was loaded with balls, and should have torn the poor thing so badly that it would have been useless as a specimen, so let it live. we left the ferry before six, and went on as usual. we saw two antelopes on entering the bottom prairie, but they had the wind of us, and scampered off to the hills. we saw two grouse, one of which bell killed, and we found it very good this evening for our supper. twelve bulls were seen, but we paid no attention to them. we saw a fine large hawk, apparently the size of a red-tailed hawk, but with the whole head white. it had alighted on a clay hill or bank, but, on being approached, flew off to another, was pursued and again flew away, so that we could not procure it, but i have no doubt that it is a species not yet described. we now crossed blackfoot river, and saw great numbers of antelopes. their play and tricks are curious; i watched many of the groups a long time, and will not soon forget them. at last, seeing we should have no meat for supper, and being a party of nine, it was determined that the first animal seen should be run down and killed. we soon saw a bull, and all agreed to give every chance possible to squires. mr. c., owen, and squires started, and harris followed without a gun, to see the chase. the bull was wounded twice by squires, but no blood came from the mouth, and now all three shot at it, but the bull was not apparently hurt seriously; he became more and more furious, and began charging upon them. unfortunately, squires ran between the bull and a ravine quite close to the animal, and it suddenly turned on him; his horse became frightened and jumped into the ravine, the bull followed, and now squires lost his balance; however, he threw his gun down, and fortunately clung to the mane of his horse and recovered his seat. the horse got away and saved his life, for, from what mr. c. told me, had he fallen, the bull would have killed him in a few minutes, and no assistance could be afforded him, as mr. c. and owen had, at that moment, empty guns. squires told us all; he had never been so bewildered and terrified before. the bull kept on running, and was shot at perhaps twenty times, for when he fell he had _twelve balls_ in his side, and had been shot twice in the head. another bull was now seen close by us, and owen killed it after four shots. whilst we were cutting up this one, la fleur and some one else went to the other, which was found to be very poor, and, at this season smelling very rank and disagreeable. a few of the best pieces were cut away, and, as usual, the hunters ate the liver and fat quite raw, like wolves, and we were now on the move again. presently we saw seven animals coming towards us, and with the glass discovered there were six bulls and one cow. the hunters mounted in quick time, and away after the cow, which owen killed very soon. to my surprise the bulls did not leave her, but stood about one hundred yards from the hunters, who were cutting her in pieces; the best parts were taken for dried meat. had we not been so many, the bulls would, in all probability, have charged upon the butchers, but after a time they went off at a slow canter. at this moment harris and i were going towards the party thus engaged, when a swift fox started from a hole under the feet of harris' horse. i was loaded with balls, and he also; he gave chase and gained upon the beautiful animal with remarkable quickness. bell saw this, and joined harris, whilst i walked towards the butchering party. the fox was overtaken by harris, who took aim at it several times, but could not get sight on him, and the little fellow doubled and cut about in such a manner that it escaped into a ravine, and was seen no more. now who will tell me that no animal can compete with this fox in speed, when harris, mounted on an indian horse, overtook it in a few minutes? we were now in sight of a large band of cows and bulls, but the sun was low, and we left them to make our way to the camping-place, which we reached just before the setting of the sun. we found plenty of water, and a delightful spot, where we were all soon at work unsaddling our horses and mules, bringing wood for fires, and picking service-berries, which we found in great quantities and very good. we were thirty miles from fort union, close to the three mamelles, but must have travelled near fifty, searching for and running down the game. all slept well, some outside and others inside the tent, after our good supper. we had a clear, bright day, with the wind from the westward. _july , thursday._ this morning was beautiful, the birds singing all around us, and after our early breakfast, harris, with la fleur and mr. culbertson, walked to the top of the highest of the three mamelles; bell went to skinning the birds shot yesterday,[ ] among which was a large titmouse of the eastern states, while i walked off a short distance, and made a sketch of the camp and the three mamelles. i hope to see a fair picture from this, painted by victor, this next winter, god willing. during the night the bulls were heard bellowing, and the wolves howling, all around us. bell had seen evidences of grizzly bears close by, but we saw none of the animals. an antelope was heard snorting early this morning, and seen for a while, but la fleur could not get it. the snorting of the antelope is more like a whistling, sneezing sound, than like the long, clear snorting of our common deer, and it is also very frequently repeated, say every few minutes, when in sight of an object of which the animal does not yet know the nature; for the moment it is assured of danger, it bounds three or four times like a sheep, and then either trots off or gallops like a horse. on the return of the gentlemen from the eminence, from which they had seen nothing but a hawk, and heard the notes of the rock wren, the horses were gathered, and preparations made to go in search of cows. i took my gun and walked off ahead, and on ascending the first hill saw an antelope, which, at first sight, i thought was an indian. it stood still, gazing at me about five hundred yards off; i never stirred, and presently it walked towards me; i lay down and lowered my rifle; the animal could not now see my body; i showed it my feet a few times, at intervals. presently i saw it coming full trot towards me; i cocked my gun, loaded with buck-shot in one barrel and ball in the other. he came within thirty yards of me and stopped suddenly, then turned broadside towards me. i could see his very eyes, his beautiful form, and his fine horns, for it was a buck. i pulled one trigger--it snapped, the animal moved not; i pulled the other, snapped again, and away the antelope bounded, and ran swiftly from me. i put on fresh caps, and saw it stop after going a few hundred yards, and presently it came towards me again, but not within one hundred and fifty yards, when seeing that it would not come nearer i pulled the trigger with the ball; off it went, and so did the antelope, which this time went quite out of my sight. i returned to camp and found all ready for a move. owen went up a hill to reconnoitre for antelopes and cows; seeing one of the former he crept after it. bell followed, and at this moment a hare leaped from the path before us, and stopped within twenty paces. harris was not loaded with shot, and i only with buck-shot; however, i fired and killed it; it proved to be a large female, and after measuring, we skinned it, and i put on a label "townsend's hare, killed a few miles from the three mamelles, july , ." after travelling for a good while, owen, who kept ahead of us, made signs from the top of a high hill that buffaloes were in sight. this signal is made by walking the rider's horse backwards and forwards several times. we hurried on towards him, and when we reached the place, he pointed to the spot where he had seen them, and said they were travelling fast, being a band of both cows and bulls. the hunters were mounted at once, and on account of squires' soreness i begged him not to run; so he drove me in the wagon as fast as possible over hills, through plains and ravines of all descriptions, at a pace beyond belief. from time to time we saw the hunters, and once or twice the buffaloes, which were going towards the fort. at last we reached an eminence from which we saw both the game and the hunters approaching the cattle, preparatory to beginning the chase. it seems there is no etiquette among buffalo hunters, and this proved a great disappointment to friend harris, who was as anxious to kill a cow, as he had been to kill a bull. off went the whole group, but the country was not as advantageous to the pursuers, as to the pursued. the cows separated from the bulls, the latter making their way towards us, and six of them passed within one hundred yards of where i stood; we let them pass, knowing well how savage they are at these times, and turned our eyes again to the hunters. i saw mr. c. pursuing one cow, owen another, and bell a third. owen shot one and mortally wounded it; it walked up on a hill and stood there for some minutes before falling. owen killed a second close by the one mr. c. had now killed, bell's dropped dead in quite another direction, nearly one mile off. two bulls we saw coming directly towards us, so la fleur and i went under cover of the hill to await their approach, and they came within sixty yards of us. i gave la fleur the choice of shooting first, as he had a rifle; he shot and missed; they turned and ran in an opposite direction, so that i, who had gone some little distance beyond la fleur, had no chance, and i was sorry enough for my politeness. owen had shot a third cow, which went part way up a hill, fell, and kicked violently; she, however, rose and again fell, and kept kicking with all her legs in the air. squires now drove to her, and i walked, followed by moncrévier, a hunter; seeing mr. c. and harris on the bottom below we made signs for them to come up, and they fortunately did, and by galloping to squires probably saved that young man from more danger; for though i cried to him at the top of my voice, the wind prevented him from hearing me; he now stopped, however, not far from a badly broken piece of ground over which had he driven at his usual speed, which i doubt not he would have attempted, some accident must have befallen him. harris and mr. c. rode up to the cow, which expired at that moment. the cow mr. c. had killed was much the largest, and we left a cart and two men to cut up this, and the first two owen had killed, and went to the place where the first lay, to have it skinned for me. bell joined us soon, bringing a tongue with him, and he immediately began operations on the cow, which proved a fine one, and i have the measurements as follows: "buffalo cow, killed by mr. alexander culbertson, july , . nose to root of tail, inches. height at shoulder, ; at rump, - / . length of tail vertebræ, ; to end of hair, ; from brisket to bottom of feet, - / ; nose to anterior canthus, - / ; between horns at root, - / ; between tops of ditto, - / ; between nostrils, - / ; length of ditto, - / ; height of nose, - / ; nose to opening of ear, ; ear from opening to tip, ; longest hair on head, inches; from angle of mouth to end of under lip, - / ." whilst we were at this, owen and pike were hacking at their cow. after awhile all was ready for departure, and we made for the "coupe" at two o'clock, and expected to have found water to enable us to water our horses, for we had yet some gallons of the missouri water for our own use. we found the road to the "coupe," which was seen for many, many miles. the same general appearance of country shows throughout the whole of these dreary prairies; up one hill and down on the other side, then across a plain with ravines of more or less depth. about two miles west of the "coupe," owen and others went in search of water, but in vain; and we have had to cross the "coupe" and travel fully two miles east of it, when we came to a mere puddle, sufficient however, for the night, and we stopped. the carts with the meat, and our effects, arrived after a while; the meat was spread on the grass, the horses and mules hoppled and let go, to drink and feed. all hands collected buffalo dung for fuel, for not a bush was in sight, and we soon had a large fire. in the winter season this prairie fuel is too wet to burn, and oftentimes the hunters have to eat their meat raw, or go without their supper. ours was cooked however; i made mine chiefly from the liver, as did harris; others ate boiled or roasted meat as they preferred. the tent was pitched, and i made a bed for mr. c. and myself, and guns, etc., were all under cover; the evening was cool, the wind fresh, and no mosquitoes. we had seen plenty of antelopes; i shot at one twenty yards from the wagon with small shot. harris killed a wolf, but we have seen very few, and now i will wish you all good-night; god bless you! [illustration: camp at the three mamelles. from a drawing by audubon, hitherto unpublished.] _july , friday._ this morning was cold enough for a frost, but we all slept soundly until daylight, and about half-past three we were called for breakfast. the horses had all gone but four, and, as usual, owen was despatched for them. the horses were brought back, our coffee swallowed, and we were off, mr. c. and i, in the wagon. we saw few antelopes, no buffalo, and reached the ferry opposite the fort at half-past seven. we found all well, and about eleven assiniboins, all young men, headed by the son of a great chief called "le mangeur d'hommes" (the man-eater). the poor wretched indian whom harris had worked over, died yesterday morning, and was buried at once. i had actually felt chilly riding in the wagon, and much enjoyed a breakfast mrs. culbertson had kindly provided for me. we had passed over some very rough roads, and at breakneck speed, but i did not feel stiff as i expected, though somewhat sore, and a good night's rest is all i need. this afternoon the cow's skin and head, and the hare arrived, and have been preserved. a half-breed well known to provost has been here to make a bargain with me about bighorns, grizzly bear, etc., and will see what he and his two sons can do; but i have little or no confidence in these gentry. i was told this afternoon that at mouse river, about two hundred miles north of this, there are eight hundred carts in one gang, and four hundred in another, with an adequate number of half-breeds and indians, killing buffalo and drying their meat for winter provisions, and that the animals are there in millions. when buffalo bulls are shot from a distance of sixty or seventy yards, they rarely charge on the hunter, and mr. culbertson has killed as many as nine bulls from the same spot, when unseen by these terrible beasts. beavers, when shot swimming, and killed, sink at once to the bottom, but their bodies rise again in from twenty to thirty minutes. hunters, who frequently shoot and kill them by moonlight, return in the morning from their camping-places, and find them on the margins of the shores where they had shot. otters do the same, but remain under water for an hour or more. _july , saturday._ cool and pleasant. about one hour after daylight harris, bell, and two others, crossed the river, and went in search of rabbits, but all returned without success. harris, after breakfast, went off on this side, saw none, but killed a young raven. during the course of the forenoon he and bell went off again, and brought home an old and young of the sharp-tailed grouse. this afternoon they brought in a loggerhead shrike and two rock wrens. bell skinned all these. sprague made a handsome sketch of the five young buffaloes belonging to the fort. this evening moncrévier and owen went on the other side of the river, but saw nothing. we collected berries of the dwarf cherries of this part, and i bottled some service-berries to carry home. _july , sunday._ weather cool and pleasant. after breakfast we despatched la fleur and provost after antelopes and bighorns. we then went off and had a battue for rabbits, and although we were nine in number, and all beat the rose bushes and willows for several hundred yards, not one did we see, although their traces were apparent in several places. we saw tracks of a young grizzly bear near the river shore. after a good dinner of buffalo meat, green peas, and a pudding, mr. c., owen, mr. pike, and i went off to fort mortimer. we had an arrival of five squaws, half-breeds, and a gentleman of the same order, who came to see our fort and our ladies. the princess went out to meet them covered with a fine shawl, and the visitors followed her to her own room. these ladies spoke both the french and cree languages. at fort mortimer we found the hunters from the north, who had returned last evening and told me they had seen nothing. i fear that all my former opinions of the half-breeds are likely to be realized, and that they are all more _au fait_ at telling lies, than anything else; and i expect now that we shall have to make a regular turn-out ourselves, to kill both grizzly bears and bighorns. as we were riding along not far from this fort, mr. culbertson fired off the gun given him by harris, and it blew off the stock, lock, and breech, and it was a wonder it did not kill him, or me, as i was sitting by his side. after we had been at home about one hour, we were all called out of a sudden by the news that the _horse guards_ were coming, full gallop, driving the whole of their charge before them. we saw the horses, and the cloud of dust that they raised on the prairies, and presently, when the guards reached the gates, they told us that they had seen a party of indians, which occasioned their hurried return. it is now more than one hour since i wrote this, and the indians are now in sight, and we think they were frightened by three or four squaws who had left the fort in search of "pommes blanches." sprague has collected a few seeds, but i intend to have some time devoted to this purpose before we leave on our passage downwards. this evening five indians arrived, among whom is the brother of the man who died a few days ago; he brought a horse, and an elk skin, which i bought, and he now considers himself a rich man. he reported buffaloes very near, and to-morrow morning the hunters will be after them. when buffaloes are about to lie down, they draw all their four feet together slowly, and balancing the body for a moment, bend their fore legs, and fall on their knees first, and the hind ones follow. in young animals, some of which we have here, the effect produced on their tender skin is directly seen, as callous round patches without hair are found; after the animal is about one year old, these are seen no more. i am told that wolves have not been known to attack men and horses in these parts, but they do attack mules and colts, always making choice of the fattest. we scarcely see one now-a-days about the fort, and yet two miles from here, at fort mortimer, mr. collins tells me it is impossible to sleep, on account of their howlings at night. when assiniboin indians lose a relative by death, they go and cry under the box which contains the body, which is placed in a tree, cut their legs and different parts of the body, and moan miserably for hours at a time. this performance has been gone through with by the brother of the indian who died here. _july , monday._ weather rather warmer. mr. larpenteur went after rabbits, saw none, but found a horse, which was brought home this afternoon. mr. c., harris, bell, and owen went after buffaloes over the hills, saw none, so that all this day has been disappointment to us. owen caught a _spermophilus hoodii_. the brother of the dead indian, who gashed his legs fearfully this morning, went off with his wife and children and six others, who had come here to beg. one of them had for _a letter of recommendation_ one of the advertisements of the steamer "trapper," which will be kept by his chief for time immemorial to serve as a pass for begging. he received from us ammunition and tobacco. sprague collected seeds this morning, and this afternoon copied my sketch of the three mamelles. towards sunset i intend to go myself after rabbits, along the margins of the bushes and the shore. we have returned from my search after rabbits; harris and i each shot one. we saw five wild geese. harris lost his snuff-box, which he valued, and which i fear will never be found. squires to-day proposed to me to let him remain here this winter to procure birds and quadrupeds, and i would have said "yes" at once, did he understand either or both these subjects, or could draw; but as he does not, it would be useless. _august , tuesday._ the weather fine, and warmer than yesterday. we sent off four indians after rabbits, but as we foolishly gave them powder and shot, they returned without any very soon, having, of course, hidden the ammunition. after breakfast mr. c. had a horse put in the cart, and three squaws went off after "pommes blanches," and sprague and i followed in the wagon, driven by owen. these women carried sticks pointed at one end, and blunt at the other, and i was perfectly astonished at the dexterity and rapidity with which they worked. they place the pointed end within six inches of the plant, where the stem enters the earth, and bear down upon the other end with all their weight and move about to the right and left of the plant until the point of the stick is thrust in the ground to the depth of about seven inches, when acting upon it in the manner of a lever, the plant is fairly thrown out, and the root procured. sprague and i, who had taken with us an instrument resembling a very narrow hoe, and a spade, having rather despised the simple instruments of the squaws, soon found out that these damsels could dig six or seven, and in some cases a dozen, to our _one_. we collected some seeds of these plants as well as those of some others, and walked fully six miles, which has rendered my feet quite tender again. owen told me that he had seen, on his late journey up the yellowstone, grouse, both old and young, with a black breast and with a broad tail; they were usually near the margin of a wood. what they are i cannot tell, but he and bell are going after them to-morrow morning. just after dinner provost and la fleur returned with two male antelopes, skinned, one of them a remarkably large buck, the other less in size, both skins in capital order. we have taken the measurements of the head of the larger. the timber for our boat has been hauling across the sand-bar ever since daylight, and of course the work will proceed pretty fast. the weather is delightful, and at night, indeed, quite cool enough. i spoke to sprague last night about remaining here next winter, as he had mentioned his wish to do so to bell some time ago, but he was very undecided. my regrets that i promised you all so faithfully that i would return this fall are beyond description. i am, as years go, an old man, but i do not feel old, and there is so much of interest here that i forget oftentimes that i am not as young as owen. _august , wednesday._ bell and owen started on their tour up the yellowstone[ ] after cocks of the plain [sage grouse, _centrocercus urophasianus_]. provost and moncrévier went in the timber below after deer, but saw none. we had an arrival of six chippeway indians, and afterwards about a dozen assiniboins. both these parties were better dressed, and looked better off than any previous groups that we have seen at this fort. they brought some few robes to barter, and the traffic was carried on by mr. larpenteur in his little shop, through a wicket. on the arrival of the assiniboins, who were headed by an old man, one of the chippeways discovered a horse, which he at once not only claimed, but tied; he threw down his new blanket on the ground, and was leading off the horse, when the other indian caught hold of it, and said that he had fairly bought it, etc. the chippeway now gave him his gun, powder, and ball, as well as his _looking-glass_, the most prized of all his possessions, and the assiniboin, now apparently satisfied, gave up the horse, which was led away by the new (or old) owner. we thought the matter was ended, but mr. culbertson told us that either the horse or the chippeway would be caught and brought back. the latter had mounted a fine horse which he had brought with him, and was leading the other away, when presently a gun was heard out of the fort, and mr. c. ran to tell us that the horse of the chippeway had been shot, and that the rider was running as fast as he could to fort mortimer. upon going out we found the horse standing still, and the man running; we went to the poor animal, and found that the ball had passed through the thigh, and entered the belly. the poor horse was trembling like an aspen; he at last moved, walked about, and went to the river, where he died. now it is curious that it was not the same assiniboin who had sold the horse that had shot, but another of their party; and we understand that it was on account of an old grudge against the chippeway, who, by the way, was a surly-looking rascal. the assiniboins brought eight or ten horses and colts, and a number of dogs. one of the colts had a necklace of "pommes blanches," at the end of which hung a handful of buffalo calves' hoofs, not more than / inch long, and taken from the calves before birth, when the mothers had been killed. harris and i took a ride in the wagon over the mauvaises terres above the fort, in search of petrified wood, but though we found many specimens, they were of such indifferent quality that we brought home but one. on returning we followed a wolf path, of which there are hundreds through the surrounding hills, all leading to the fort. it is curious to see how well they understand the best and shortest roads. from what had happened, we anticipated a row among the indians, but all seemed quiet. mr. c. gave us a good account of fort mckenzie. i have been examining the fawn of the long-tailed deer of this country, belonging to old baptiste; the man feeds it regularly, and the fawn follows him everywhere. it will race backwards and forwards over the prairie back of the fort, for a mile or more, running at the very top of its speed; suddenly it will make for the gate, rush through and overwhelm baptiste with caresses, as if it had actually lost him for some time. if baptiste lies on the ground pretending to sleep, the fawn pushes with its nose, and licks his face as a dog would, till he awakens. _august , thursday._ we observed yesterday that the atmosphere was thick, and indicated the first appearance of the close of summer, which here is brief. the nights and mornings have already become cool, and summer clothes will not be needed much longer, except occasionally. harris and sprague went to the hills so much encrusted with shells. we have had some talk about going to meet bell and owen, but the distance is too great, and mr. c. told me he was not acquainted with the road beyond the first twenty-five or thirty miles. we have had a slight shower, and mr. c. and i walked across the bar to see the progress of the boat. the horse that died near the river was hauled across to the sand-bar, and will make good catfish bate for our fishers. this morning we had another visitation of indians, seven in number; they were very dirty, wrapped in disgusting buffalo robes, and were not allowed inside the inner gate, on account of their filthy condition. _august , friday._ we were all under way this morning at half-past five, on a buffalo hunt, that is to say, the residue of us, harris and i, for bell was away with owen, and squires with provost after bighorns, and sprague at fort mortimer. tobacco and matches had been forgotten, and that detained us for half an hour; but at last we started in good order, with only one cart following us, which carried pike and moncrévier. we saw, after we had travelled ten miles, some buffalo bulls; some alone, others in groups of four or five, a few antelopes, but more shy than ever before. i was surprised to see how careless the bulls were of us, as some actually gave us chances to approach them within a hundred yards, looking steadfastly, as if not caring a bit for us. at last we saw one lying down immediately in our road, and determined to give him a chance for his life. mr. c. had a white horse, a runaway, in which he placed a good deal of confidence; he mounted it, and we looked after him. the bull did not start till mr. c. was within a hundred yards, and then at a gentle and slow gallop. the horse galloped too, but only at the same rate. mr. c. thrashed him until his hands were sore, for he had no whip, the bull went off without even a shot being fired, and the horse is now looked upon as forever disgraced. about two miles farther another bull was observed lying down in our way, and it was concluded to run him with the white horse, accompanied, however, by harris. the chase took place, and the bull was killed by harris, but the white horse is now scorned by every one. a few pieces of meat, the tongue, tail, and head, were all that was taken from this very large bull. we soon saw that the weather was becoming cloudy, and we were anxious to reach a camping-place; but we continued to cross ranges of hills, and hoped to see a large herd of buffaloes. the weather was hot "out of mind," and we continued till, reaching a fine hill, we saw in a beautiful valley below us seventy to eighty head, feeding peacefully in groups and singly, as might happen. the bulls were mixed in with the cows, and we saw one or two calves. many bulls were at various distances from the main group, but as we advanced towards them they galloped off and joined the others. when the chase began it was curious to see how much swifter the cows were than the bulls, and how soon they divided themselves into parties of seven or eight, exerting themselves to escape from their murderous pursuers. all in vain, however; off went the guns and down went the cows, or stood bleeding through the nose, mouth, or bullet holes. mr. c. killed three, and harris one in about half an hour. we had quite enough, and the slaughter was ended. we had driven up to the nearest fallen cow, and approached close to her, and found that she was not dead, but trying to rise to her feet. i cannot bear to see an animal suffer unnecessarily, so begged one of the men to take my knife and stab her to the heart, which was done. the animals were cut up and skinned, with considerable fatigue. to skin bulls and cows and cut up their bodies is no joke, even to such as are constantly in the habit of doing it. whilst mr. culbertson and the rest had gone to cut up another at some distance, i remained on guard to save the meat from the wolves, but none came before my companions returned. we found the last cow quite dead. as we were busy about her the rain fell in torrents, and i found my blanket _capote_ of great service. it was now nearly sundown, and we made up our minds to camp close by, although there was no water for our horses, neither any wood. harris and i began collecting buffalo-dung from all around, whilst the others attended to various other affairs. the meat was all unloaded and spread on the ground, the horses made fast, the fire burned freely, pieces of liver were soon cooked and devoured, coffee drunk in abundance, and we went to rest. _august , saturday_. it rained in the night; but this morning the weather was cool, wind at northwest, and cloudy, but not menacing rain. we made through the road we had come yesterday, and on our way harris shot a young of the swift fox, which we could have caught alive had we not been afraid of running into some hole. we saw only a few bulls and antelopes, and some wolves. the white horse, which had gone out as a _hunter_, returned as a _pack-horse_, loaded with the entire flesh of a buffalo cow; and our two mules drew three more and the heads of all four. this morning at daylight, when we were called to drink our coffee, there was a buffalo feeding within twenty steps of our tent, and it moved slowly towards the hills as we busied ourselves making preparations for our departure. we reached the fort at noon; squires, provost, and la fleur had returned; they had wounded a bighorn, but had lost it. owen and bell returned this afternoon; they had seen no cocks of the plains, but brought the skin of a female elk, a porcupine, and a young white-headed eagle. provost tells me that buffaloes become so very poor during hard winters, when the snows cover the ground to the depth of two or three feet, that they lose their hair, become covered with scabs, on which the magpies feed, and the poor beasts die by hundreds. one can hardly conceive how it happens, notwithstanding these many deaths and the immense numbers that are murdered almost daily on these boundless wastes called prairies, besides the hosts that are drowned in the freshets, and the hundreds of young calves who die in early spring, so many are yet to be found. daily we see so many that we hardly notice them more than the cattle in our pastures about our homes. but this cannot last; even now there is a perceptible difference in the size of the herds, and before many years the buffalo, like the great auk, will have disappeared; surely this should not be permitted. bell has been relating his adventures, our boat is going on, and i wish i had a couple of bighorns. god bless you all. _august , sunday._ i very nearly lost the skin of the swift fox, for harris supposed the animal rotten with the great heat, which caused it to have an odor almost insupportable, and threw it on the roof of the gallery. bell was so tired he did not look at it, so i took it down, skinned it, and with the assistance of squires put the coat into pickle, where i daresay it will keep well enough. the weather is thick, and looks like a thunderstorm. bell, having awaked refreshed by his night's rest, has given me the measurements of the elk and the porcupine. provost has put the skin of the former in pickle, and has gone to fort mortimer to see boucherville and others, to try if they would go after bighorn to-morrow morning. this afternoon we had an arrival of indians, the same who were here about two weeks ago. they had been to fort clark, and report that a battle had taken place between the crees and gros ventres, and that the latter had lost. antelopes often die from the severity of the winter weather, and are found dead and shockingly poor, even in the immediate vicinity of the forts. these animals are caught in pens in the manner of buffaloes, and are despatched with clubs, principally by the squaws. in , during the winter, and when the snow was deep on the prairies and in the ravines by having drifted there, mr. laidlow, then at fort union, caught four antelopes by following them on horseback and forcing them into these drifts, which were in places ten or twelve feet deep. they were brought home on a sleigh, and let loose about the rooms. they were so very gentle that they permitted the children to handle them, although being loose they could have kept from them. they were removed to the carpenter's shop, and there one broke its neck by leaping over a turning-lathe. the others were all killed in some such way, for they became very wild, and jumped, kicked, etc., till all were dead. very young buffaloes have been caught in the same way, by the same gentleman, assisted by le brun and four indians, and thirteen of these he took down the river, when they became somewhat tamed. the antelopes cannot be tamed except when caught young, and then they can rarely be raised. mr. wm. sublette, of st. louis, had one however, a female, which grew to maturity, and was so gentle that it would go all over his house, mounting and descending steps, and even going on the roof of the house. it was alive when i first reached st. louis, but i was not aware of it, and before i left, it was killed by an elk belonging to the same gentleman. provost returned, and said that boucherville would go with him and la fleur to-morrow morning early, _but i doubt it_. _august , monday._ provost, bell, and la fleur started after breakfast, having waited nearly four hours for boucherville. they left at seven, and the indians were curious to know where they were bound, and looked at them with more interest than we all liked. at about nine, we saw boucherville, accompanied by five men, all mounted, and they were surprised that provost had not waited for them, or rather that he had left so early. i gave them a bottle of whiskey, and they started under the whip, and must have overtaken the first party in about two hours. to-day has been warmer than any day we have had for two weeks. sprague has been collecting seeds, and harris and i searching for stones with impressions of leaves and fern; we found several. mr. denig says the assiniboins killed a black bear on white earth river, about sixty miles from the mouth; they are occasionally killed there, but it is a rare occurrence. mr. denig saw the skin of a bear at their camp last winter, and a raccoon was also killed on the cheyenne river by the sioux, who knew not what to make of it. mr. culbertson has given me the following account of a skirmish which took place at fort mckenzie in the blackfoot country, which i copy from his manuscript. "_august , ._ at the break of day we were aroused from our beds by the report of an enemy being in sight. this unexpected news created naturally a confusion among us all; never was a set of unfortunate beings so surprised as we were. by the time that the alarm had spread through the fort, we were surrounded by the enemy, who proved to be assiniboins, headed by the chief gauché (the antelope). the number, as near as we could judge, was about four hundred. their first attack was upon a few lodges of piegans, who were encamped at the fort. they also, being taken by surprise, could not escape. we exerted ourselves, however, to save as many as we could, by getting them into the fort. but the foolish squaws, when they started from their lodges, each took a load of old saddles and skins, which they threw in the door, and stopped it so completely that they could not get in, and here the enemy massacred several. in the mean time our men were firing with muskets and shot-guns. unfortunately for us, we could not use our cannon, as there were a great many piegans standing between us and the enemy; this prevented us from firing a telling shot on them at once. the engagement continued nearly an hour, when the enemy, finding their men drop very fast, retreated to the bluffs, half a mile distant; there they stood making signs for us to come on, and give them an equal chance on the prairie. although our force was much weaker than theirs, we determined to give them a trial. at the same time we despatched an expert runner to an encampment of piegans for a reinforcement. we mounted our horses, and proceeded to the field of battle, which was a perfect level, where there was no chance to get behind a tree, or anything else, to keep off a ball. we commenced our fire at two hundred yards, but soon lessened the distance to one hundred. here we kept up a constant fire for two hours, when, our horses getting fatigued, we concluded to await the arrival of our reinforcements. as yet none of us were killed or badly wounded, and nothing lost but one horse, which was shot under one of our men named bourbon. of the enemy we cannot tell how many were killed, for as fast as they fell they were carried off the field. after the arrival of our reinforcements, which consisted of one hundred and fifty mounted piegans, we charged and fought again for another two hours, and drove them across the maria river, where they took another stand; and here mr. mitchell's horse was shot under him and he was wounded. in this engagement the enemy had a decided advantage over us, as they were concealed in the bushes, while we were in the open prairie. however, we succeeded in making them retreat from this place back on to a high prairie, but they suddenly rushed upon us and compelled us to retreat across the maria. then they had us in their power; but for some reason, either lack of courage or knowledge, they did not avail themselves of their opportunity. they could have killed a great many of us when we rushed into the water, which was almost deep enough to swim our horses; they were close upon us, but we succeeded in crossing before they fired. this foolish move came near being attended with fatal consequences, which we were aware of, but our efforts to stop it were unsuccessful. we, however, did not retreat far before we turned upon them again, with the determination of driving them to the mountains, in which we succeeded. by this time it was so dark that we could see no more, and we concluded to return. during the day we lost seven killed, and twenty wounded. two of our dead the enemy had scalped. it is impossible to tell how many of the enemy were killed, but their loss must have been much greater than ours, as they had little ammunition, and at the last none. our indians took two bodies and burned them, after scalping them. the indians who were with us in this skirmish deserve but little credit for their bravery, for in every close engagement the whites, who were comparatively few, always were in advance of them. this, however, had one good effect, for it removed the idea they had of our being cowards, and made them believe we were unusually brave. had it not been for the assistance we gave the piegans they would have been cut off, for i never saw indians behave more bravely than the enemy this day; and had they been well supplied with powder and ball they would have done much more execution. but necessity compelled them to spare their ammunition, as they had come a long way, and they must save enough to enable them to return home. and on our side had we been positive they were enemies, even after they had surprised us in the manner they did, we could have killed many of them at first, but thinking that they were a band of indians coming with this ceremony to trade (which is not uncommon) we did not fire upon them till the balls and arrows came whistling about our heads; then only was the word given, 'fire!' had they been bold enough at the onset to have rushed into the fort, we could have done nothing but suffer death under their tomahawks." mr. denig gave me the following "bear story," as he heard it from the parties concerned: "in the year two men set out from a trading-post at the head of the cheyenne, and in the neighborhood of the black hills, to trap beaver; their names were michel carrière and bernard le brun. carrière was a man about seventy years old, and had passed most of his life in the indian country, in this dangerous occupation of trapping. one evening as they were setting their traps along the banks of a stream tributary to the cheyenne, somewhat wooded by bushes and cottonwood trees, their ears were suddenly saluted by a growl, and in a moment a large she bear rushed upon them. le brun, being a young and active man, immediately picked up his gun, and shot the bear through the bowels. carrière also fired, but missed. the bear then pursued them, but as they ran for their lives, their legs did them good service; they escaped through the bushes, and the bear lost sight of them. they had concluded the bear had given up the chase, and were again engaged in setting their traps, when carrière, who was a short distance from le brun, went through a small thicket with a trap and came directly in front of the huge, wounded beast, which, with one spring, bounded upon him and tore him in an awful manner. with one stroke of the paw on his face and forehead he cut his nose in two, and one of the claws reached inward nearly to the brain at the root of the nose; the same stroke tore out his right eye and most of the flesh from that side of his face. his arm and side were _literally torn to pieces_, and the bear, after handling him in this gentle manner for two or three minutes, threw him upwards about six feet, when he lodged, to all appearance dead, in the fork of a tree. le brun, hearing the noise, ran to his assistance, and again shot the bear and killed it. he then brought what he at first thought was the dead body of his friend to the ground. little appearance of a human being was left to the poor man, but le brun found life was not wholly extinct. he made a _travaille_ and carried him by short stages to the nearest trading-post, where the wounded man slowly recovered, but was, of course, the most mutilated-looking being imaginable. carrière, in telling the story, says that he fully believes it to have been the holy virgin that lifted him up and placed him in the fork of the tree, and thus preserved his life. the bear is stated to have been as large as a common ox, and must have weighed, therefore, not far from lbs." mr. denig adds that he saw the man about a year after the accident, and some of the wounds were, even then, not healed. carrière fully recovered, however, lived a few years, and was killed by the blackfeet near fort union. when bell was fixing his traps on his horse this morning, i was amused to see provost and la fleur laughing outright at him, as he first put on a buffalo robe under his saddle, a blanket over it, and over that his mosquito bar and his rain protector. these old hunters could not understand why he needed all these things to be comfortable; then, besides, he took a sack of ship-biscuit. provost took only an old blanket, a few pounds of dried meat, and his tin cup, and rode off in his shirt and dirty breeches. la fleur was worse off still, for he took no blanket, and said he could borrow provost's tin cup; but he, being a most temperate man, carried the bottle of whiskey to mix with the brackish water found in the mauvaises terres, among which they have to travel till their return. harris and i contemplated going to a quarry from which the stones of the powder magazine were brought, but it became too late for us to start in time to see much, and the wrong horses were brought us, being both _runners_; we went, however, across the river after rabbits. harris killed a red-cheeked woodpecker and shot at a rabbit, which he missed. we had a sort of show by moncrévier which was funny, and well performed; he has much versatility, great powers of mimicry, and is a far better actor than many who have made names for themselves in that line. jean baptiste told me the following: "about twelve years ago when mr. mckenzie was the superintendent of this fort, at the season when green peas were plenty and good, baptiste was sent to the garden about half a mile off, to gather a quantity. he was occupied doing this, when, at the end of a row, to his astonishment, he saw a very large bear gathering peas also. baptiste dropped his tin bucket, ran back to the fort as fast as possible, and told mr. mckenzie, who immediately summoned several other men with guns; they mounted their horses, rode off, and killed the bear; but, alas! mr. bruin had emptied the bucket of peas." _august , tuesday._ another sultry day. immediately after breakfast mr. larpenteur drove harris and myself in search of geological specimens, but we found none worth having. we killed a _spermophilus hoodii_, which, although fatally wounded, entered its hole, and harris had to draw it out by the hind legs. we saw a family of rock wrens, and killed four of them. i killed two at one shot; one of the others must have gone in a hole, for though we saw it fall we could not find it. another, after being shot, found its way under a flat stone, and was there picked up, quite dead, mr. larpenteur accidentally turning the stone up. we saw signs of antelopes and of hares (townsend), and rolled a large rock from the top of a high hill. the notes of the rock wren are a prolonged cree-è-è-è. on our return home we heard that boucherville and his five hunters had returned with nothing for me, and they had not met bell and his companions. we were told also that a few minutes after our departure the roarings and bellowings of buffalo were heard across the river, and that owen and two men had been despatched with a cart to kill three fat cows but _no more_; so my remonstrances about useless slaughter have not been wholly unheeded. harris was sorry he had missed going, and so was i, as both of us could have done so. the milk of the buffalo cow is truly good and finely tasted, but the bag is never large as in our common cattle, and this is probably a provision of nature to render the cows more capable to run off, and escape from their pursuers. bell, provost, and la fleur returned just before dinner; they had seen no bighorns, and only brought the flesh of two deer killed by la fleur, and a young magpie. this afternoon provost skinned a calf that was found by one of the cows that owen killed; it was _very_ young, only a few hours old, but large, and i have taken its measurements. it is looked upon as a phenomenon, as no buffalo cow calves at this season. the calving time is from about the st of february to the last of may. owen went six miles from the fort before he saw the cattle; there were more than three hundred in number, and harris and i regretted the more we had not gone, but had been fruitlessly hunting for stones. it is curious that while harris was searching for rabbits early this morning, he heard the bellowing of the bulls, and thought first it was the growling of a grizzly bear, and then that it was the fort bulls, so he mentioned it to no one. to-morrow evening la fleur and two men will go after bighorns again, and they are not to return before they have killed one male, at least. this evening we went a-fishing across the river, and caught ten good catfish of the upper missouri species, the sweetest and best fish of the sort that i have eaten in any part of the country. our boat is going on well, and looks pretty to boot. her name will be the "union," in consequence of the united exertions of my companions to do all that could be done, on this costly expedition. the young buffaloes now about the fort have begun shedding their red coats, the latter-colored hair dropping off in patches about the size of the palm of my hand, and the new hair is dark brownish black. _august , wednesday._ the weather is cool and we are looking for rain. squires, provost, and la fleur went off this morning after an early breakfast, across the river for bighorns with orders not to return without some of these wild animals, which reside in the most inaccessible portions of the broken and lofty clay hills and stones that exist in this region of the country; they never resort to the low lands except when moving from one spot to another; they swim rivers well, as do antelopes. i have scarcely done anything but write this day, and my memorandum books are now crowded with sketches, measurements, and descriptions. we have nine indians, all assiniboins, among whom _five_ are chiefs. these nine indians fed for three days on the flesh of only a single swan; they saw no buffaloes, though they report large herds about their village, fully two hundred miles from here. this evening i caught about one dozen catfish, and shot a _spermophilus hoodii_, an old female, which had her pouches distended and filled with the seeds of the wild sunflower of this region. i am going to follow one of their holes and describe the same. _august , thursday._ bell and i took a walk after rabbits, but saw none. the nine indians, having received their presents, went off with apparent reluctance, for when you begin to give them, the more they seem to demand. the horseguards brought in another _spermophilus hoodii_; after dinner we are going to examine one of their burrows. we have been, and have returned; the three burrows which we dug were as follows: straight downward for three or four inches, and gradually becoming deeper in an oblique slant, to the depth of eight or nine inches, but not more, and none of these holes extended more than six or seven feet beyond this. i was disappointed at not finding nests, or rooms for stores. although i have said much about buffalo running, and butchering in general, i have not given the particular manner in which the latter is performed by the hunters of this country,--i mean the white hunters,--and i will now try to do so. the moment that the buffalo is dead, three or four hunters, their faces and hands often covered with gunpowder, and with pipes lighted, place the animal on its belly, and by drawing out each fore and hind leg, fix the body so that it cannot fall down again; an incision is made near the root of the tail, immediately above the root in fact, and the skin cut to the neck, and taken off in the roughest manner imaginable, downwards and on both sides at the same time. the knives are going in all directions, and many wounds occur to the hands and fingers, but are rarely attended to at this time. the pipe of one man has perhaps given out, and with his bloody hands he takes the one of his nearest companion, who has his own hands equally bloody. now one breaks in the skull of the bull, and with bloody fingers draws out the hot brains and swallows them with peculiar zest; another has now reached the liver, and is gobbling down enormous pieces of it; whilst, perhaps, a third, who has come to the paunch, is feeding luxuriously on some--to me--disgusting-looking offal. but the main business proceeds. the flesh is taken off from the sides of the boss, or hump bones, from where these bones begin to the very neck, and the hump itself is thus destroyed. the hunters give the name of "hump" to the mere bones when slightly covered by flesh; and it is cooked, and very good when fat, young, and well broiled. the pieces of flesh taken from the sides of these bones are called _filets_, and are the best portion of the animal when properly cooked. the fore-quarters, or shoulders, are taken off, as well as the hind ones, and the sides, covered by a thin portion of flesh called the _depouille_, are taken out. then the ribs are broken off at the vertebræ, as well as the boss bones. the marrow-bones, which are those of the fore and hind legs only, are cut out last. the feet usually remain attached to these; the paunch is stripped of its covering of layers of fat, the head and the backbone are left to the wolves, the pipes are all emptied, the hands, faces, and clothes all bloody, and now a glass of grog is often enjoyed, as the stripping off the skins and flesh of three or four animals is truly very hard work. in some cases when no water was near, our supper was cooked without our being washed, and it was not until we had travelled several miles the next morning that we had any opportunity of cleaning ourselves; and yet, despite everything, we are all hungry, eat heartily, and sleep soundly. when the wind is high and the buffaloes run towards it, the hunter's guns very often snap, and it is during their exertions to replenish their pans, that the powder flies and sticks to the moisture every moment accumulating on their faces; but nothing stops these daring and usually powerful men, who the moment the chase is ended, leap from their horses, let them graze, and begin their butcher-like work. _august , friday._ the weather has been cold and windy, and the day has passed in comparative idleness with me. squires returned this afternoon alone, having left provost and la fleur behind. they have seen only two bighorns, a female and her young. it was concluded that, if our boat was finished by tuesday next, we would leave on wednesday morning, but i am by no means assured of this, and harris was quite startled at the very idea. our boat, though forty feet long, is, i fear, too small. _nous verrons!_ some few preparations for packing have been made, but owen, harris, and bell are going out early to-morrow morning to hunt buffaloes, and when they return we will talk matters over. the activity of buffaloes is almost beyond belief; they can climb the steep defiles of the mauvaises terres in hundreds of places where men cannot follow them, and it is a fine sight to see a large gang of them proceeding along these defiles four or five hundred feet above the level of the bottoms, and from which pathway if one of the number makes a mis-step or accidentally slips, he goes down rolling over and over, and breaks his neck ere the level ground is reached. bell and owen saw a bull about three years old that leaped a ravine filled with mud and water, at least twenty feet wide; it reached the middle at the first bound, and at the second was mounted on the opposite bank, from which it kept on bounding, till it gained the top of quite a high hill. mr. culbertson tells me that these animals can endure hunger in a most extraordinary manner. he says that a large bull was seen on a spot half way down a precipice, where it had slid, and from which it could not climb upwards, and either could not or would not descend; at any rate, it did not leave the position in which it found itself. the party who saw it returned to the fort, and, on their way back on the _twenty-fifth_ day after, they passed the hill, and saw the bull standing there. the thing that troubles them most is crossing rivers on the ice; their hoofs slip from side to side, they become frightened, and stretch their four legs apart to support the body, and in such situations the indians and white hunters easily approach, and stab them to the heart, or cut the hamstrings, when they become an easy prey. when in large gangs those in the centre are supported by those on the outposts, and if the stream is not large, reach the shore and readily escape. indians of different tribes hunt the buffalo in different ways; some hunt on horseback, and use arrows altogether; they are rarely expert in reloading the gun in the close race. others hunt on foot, using guns, arrows, or both. others follow with patient perseverance, and kill them also. but i will give you the manner pursued by the mandans. twenty to fifty men start, as the occasion suits, each provided with two horses, one of which is a pack-horse, the other fit for the chase. they have quivers with from twenty to fifty arrows, according to the wealth of the hunter. they ride the pack horse bareback, and travel on, till they see the game, when they leave the pack-horse, and leap on the hunter, and start at full speed and soon find themselves amid the buffaloes, on the flanks of the herd, and on both sides. when within a few yards the arrow is sent, they shoot at a buffalo somewhat ahead of them, and send the arrow in an oblique manner, so as to pass through the lights. if the blood rushes out of the nose and mouth the animal is fatally wounded, and they shoot at it no more; if not, a second, and perhaps a third arrow, is sent before this happens. the buffaloes on starting carry the tail close in between the legs, but when wounded they switch it about, especially if they wish to fight, and then the hunter's horse shies off and lets the mad animal breathe awhile. if shot through the heart, they occasionally fall dead on the instant; sometimes, if not hit in the right place, a dozen arrows will not stop them. when wounded and mad they turn suddenly round upon the hunter, and rush upon him in such a quick and furious manner that if horse and rider are not both on the alert, the former is overtaken, hooked and overthrown, the hunter pitched off, trampled and gored to death. although the buffalo is such a large animal, and to all appearance a clumsy one, it can turn with the quickness of thought, and when once enraged, will rarely give up the chase until avenged for the wound it has received. if, however, the hunter is expert, and the horse fleet, they outrun the bull, and it returns to the herd. usually the greater number of the gang is killed, but it very rarely happens that some of them do not escape. this however is not the case when the animal is pounded, especially by the gros ventres, black feet, and assiniboins. these pounds are called "parks," and the buffaloes are made to enter them in the following manner: the park is sometimes round and sometimes square, this depending much on the ground where it is put up; at the end of the park is what is called a _precipice_ of some fifteen feet or less, as may be found. it is approached by a funnel-shaped passage, which like the park itself is strongly built of logs, brushwood, and pickets, and when all is ready a young man, very swift of foot, starts at daylight covered over with a buffalo robe and wearing a buffalo head-dress. the moment he sees the herd to be taken, he bellows like a young calf, and makes his way slowly towards the contracted part of the funnel, imitating the cry of the calf, at frequent intervals. the buffaloes advance after the decoy; about a dozen mounted hunters are yelling and galloping behind them, and along both flanks of the herd, forcing them by these means to enter the mouth of the funnel. women and children are placed behind the fences of the funnel to frighten the cattle, and as soon as the young man who acts as decoy feels assured that the game is in a fair way to follow to the bank or "precipice," he runs or leaps down the bank, over the barricade, and either rests, or joins in the fray. the poor buffaloes, usually headed by a large bull, proceed, leap down the bank in haste and confusion, the indians all yelling and pursuing till every bull, cow, and calf is impounded. although this is done at all seasons, it is more general in october or november, when the hides are good and salable. now the warriors are all assembled by the pen, calumets are lighted, and the chief smokes to the great spirit, the four points of the compass, and lastly to the buffaloes. the pipe is passed from mouth to mouth in succession, and as soon as this ceremony is ended, the destruction commences. guns shoot, arrows fly in all directions, and the hunters being on the outside of the enclosure, destroy the whole gang, before they jump over to clean and skin the murdered herd. even the children shoot small, short arrows to assist in the destruction. it happens sometimes however, that the leader of the herd will be restless at the sight of the precipices, and if the fence is weak will break through it, and all his fellows follow him, and escape. the same thing sometimes takes place in the pen, for so full does this become occasionally that the animals touch each other, and as they cannot move, the very weight against the fence of the pen is quite enough to break it through; the smallest aperture is sufficient, for in a few minutes it becomes wide, and all the beasts are seen scampering over the prairies, leaving the poor indians starving and discomfited. mr. kipp told me that while travelling from lake travers to the mandans, in the month of august, he rode in a heavily laden cart for six successive days through masses of buffaloes, which divided for the cart, allowing it to pass without opposition. he has seen the immense prairie back of fort clark look black to the tops of the hills, though the ground was covered with snow, so crowded was it with these animals; and the masses probably extended much further. in fact it is _impossible to describe or even conceive_ the vast multitudes of these animals that exist even now, and feed on these ocean-like prairies. _august , saturday._ harris, bell, and owen went after buffaloes; killed six cows and brought them home. weather cloudy, and rainy at times. provost returned with la fleur this afternoon, had nothing, but had seen a grizzly bear. the "union" was launched this evening and packing, etc., is going on. i gave a memorandum to jean baptiste moncrévier of the animals i wish him to procure for me. _august , sunday._ a most beautiful day. about dinner time i had a young badger brought to me dead; i bought it, and gave in payment two pounds of sugar. the body of these animals is broader than high, the neck is powerfully strong, as well as the fore-arms, and strongly clawed fore-feet. it weighed ½ lbs. its measurements were all taken. when the pursuer gets between a badger and its hole, the animal's hair rises, and it at once shows fight. a half-breed hunter told provost, who has just returned from fort mortimer, that he was anxious to go down the river with me, but i know the man and hardly care to have him. if i decide to take him mr. culbertson, to whom i spoke of the matter, told me my only plan was to pay him by the piece for what he killed and brought on board, and that in case he did not turn out well between this place and fort clark, to leave him there; so i have sent word to him to this effect by provost this afternoon. bell is skinning the badger, sprague finishing the map of the river made by squires, and the latter is writing. the half-breed has been here, and the following is our agreement: "it is understood that françois détaillé will go with me, john j. audubon, and to secure for me the following quadrupeds--if possible--for which he will receive the prices here mentioned, payable at fort union, fort clark, or fort pierre, as may best suit him. for each bighorn male $ . for a large grizzly bear . for a large male elk . for a black-tailed deer, male or female . for red foxes . for small gray foxes . for badgers . for large porcupine . independent of which i agree to furnish him with his passage and food, he to work as a hand on board. whatever he kills for food will be settled when he leaves us, or, as he says, when he meets the opposition boat coming up to fort mortimer." he will also accompany us in our hunt after bighorns, which i shall undertake, notwithstanding mr. culbertson and squires, who have been to the mauvaises terres, both try to dissuade me from what they fear will prove over-fatiguing; but though my strength is not what it was twenty years ago, i am yet equal to much, and my eyesight far keener than that of many a younger man, though that too tells me i am no longer a youth.... the only idea i can give in _writing_ of what are called the "mauvaises terres" would be to place some thousands of loaves of sugar of different sizes, from quite small and low, to large and high, all irregularly truncated at top, and placed somewhat apart from each other. no one who has not seen these places can form any idea of these resorts of the rocky mountain rams, or the difficulty of approaching them, putting aside their extreme wildness and their marvellous activity. they form paths around these broken-headed cones (that are from three to fifteen hundred feet high), and run round them at full speed on a track that, to the eye of the hunter, does not appear to be more than a few inches wide, but which is, in fact, from a foot to eighteen inches in width. in some places there are piles of earth from eight to ten feet high, or even more, the tops of which form platforms of a hard and shelly rocky substance, where the bighorn is often seen looking on the hunter far below, and standing immovable, as if a statue. no one can imagine how they reach these places, and that too with their young, even when the latter are quite small. hunters say that the young are usually born in such places, the mothers going there to save the helpless little one from the wolves, which, after men, seem to be their greatest destroyers. the mauvaises terres are mostly formed of grayish white clay, very sparsely covered with small patches of thin grass, on which the bighorns feed, but which, to all appearance, is a very scanty supply, and there, and there only, they feed, as not one has ever been seen on the bottom or prairie land further than the foot of these most extraordinary hills. in wet weather, no man can climb any of them, and at such times they are greasy, muddy, sliding grounds. oftentimes when a bighorn is seen on a hill-top, the hunter has to ramble about for three or four miles before he can approach within gunshot of the game, and if the bighorn ever sees his enemy, pursuit is useless. the tops of some of these hills, and in some cases whole hills about thirty feet high, are composed of a conglomerated mass of stones, sand, and clay, with earth of various sorts, fused together, and having a brick-like appearance. in this mass pumice-stone of various shapes and sizes is to be found. the whole is evidently the effect of volcanic action. the bases of some of these hills cover an area of twenty acres or more, and the hills rise to the height of three or four hundred feet, sometimes even to eight hundred or a thousand; so high can the hunter ascend that the surrounding country is far, far beneath him. the strata are of different colored clays, coal, etc., and an earth impregnated with a salt which appears to have been formed by internal fire or heat, the earth or stones of which i have first spoken in this account, lava, sulphur, salts of various kinds, oxides and sulphates of iron; and in the sand at the tops of some of the highest hills i have found marine shells, but so soft and crumbling as to fall apart the instant they were exposed to the air. i spent some time over various lumps of sand, hoping to find some perfect ones that would be hard enough to carry back to st. louis; but 't was "love's labor lost," and i regretted exceedingly that only a few fragments could be gathered. i found globular and oval shaped stones, very heavy, apparently composed mostly of iron, weighing from fifteen to twenty pounds; numbers of petrified stumps from one to three feet in diameter; the mauvaises terres abound with them; they are to be found in all parts from the valleys to the tops of the hills, and appear to be principally of cedar. on the sides of the hills, at various heights, are shelves of rock or stone projecting out from two to six, eight, or even ten feet, and generally square, or nearly so; these are the favorite resorts of the bighorns during the heat of the day, and either here or on the tops of the highest hills they are to be found. between the hills there is generally quite a growth of cedar, but mostly stunted and crowded close together, with very large stumps, and between the stumps quite a good display of grass; on the summits, in some _few_ places, there are table-lands, varying from an area of one to ten or fifteen acres; these are covered with a short, dry, wiry grass, and immense quantities of flat leaved cactus, the spines of which often warn the hunter of their proximity, and the hostility existing between them and his feet. these plains are not more easily travelled than the hillsides, as every step may lead the hunter into a bed of these pests of the prairies. in the valleys between the hills are ravines, some of which are not more than ten or fifteen feet wide, while their depth is beyond the reach of the eye. others vary in depth from ten to fifty feet, while some make one giddy to look in; they are also of various widths, the widest perhaps a hundred feet. the edges, at times, are lined with bushes, mostly wild cherry; occasionally buffaloes make paths across them, but this is rare. the only safe way to pass is to follow the ravine to the head, which is usually at the foot of some hill, and go round. these ravines are mostly between every two hills, although like every general rule there are variations and occasionally places where three or more hills make only one ravine. these small ravines all connect with some larger one, the size of which is in proportion to its tributaries. the large one runs to the river, or the water is carried off by a subterranean channel. in these valleys, and sometimes on the tops of the hills, are holes, called "sink holes;" these are formed by the water running in a small hole and working away the earth beneath the surface, leaving a crust incapable of supporting the weight of a man; and if an unfortunate steps on this crust, he soon finds himself in rather an unpleasant predicament. this is one of the dangers that attend the hunter in these lands; these holes eventually form a ravine such as i have before spoken of. through these hills it is almost impossible to travel with a horse, though it is sometimes done by careful management, and a correct knowledge of the country. the sides of the hills are very steep, covered with the earth and stones of which i have spoken, all of which are quite loose on the surface; occasionally a bunch of wormwood here and there seems to assist the daring hunter; for it is no light task to follow the bighorns through these lands, and the pursuit is attended with much danger, as the least slip at times would send one headlong into the ravines below. on the sides of these high hills the water has washed away the earth, leaving caves of various sizes; and, in fact, in some places all manner of fantastic forms are made by the same process. occasionally in the valleys are found isolated cones or domes, destitute of vegetation, naked and barren. throughout the mauvaises terres there are springs of water impregnated with salt, sulphur, magnesia, and many other salts of all kinds. such is the water the hunter is compelled to drink, and were it not that it is as cold as ice it would be almost impossible to swallow it. as it is, many of these waters operate as cathartics or emetics; this is one of the most disagreeable attendants of hunting in these lands. moreover, venomous snakes of many kinds are also found here. i saw myself only one copperhead, and a common garter-snake. notwithstanding the rough nature of the country, the buffaloes have paths running in all directions, and leading from the prairies to the river. the hunter sometimes, after toiling for an hour or two up the side of one of these hills, trying to reach the top in hopes that when there he will have for a short distance at least, either a level place or good path to walk on, finds to his disappointment that he has secured a point that only affords a place scarcely large enough to stand on, and he has the trouble of descending, perhaps to renew his disappointment in the same way, again and again, such is the deceptive character of the country. i was thus deceived time and again, while in search of bighorns. if the hill does not terminate in a point it is connected with another hill, by a ridge so narrow that nothing but a bighorn can walk on it. this is the country that the mountain ram inhabits, and if, from this imperfect description, any information can be derived, i shall be more than repaid for the trouble i have had in these tiresome hills. whether my theory be correct or incorrect, it is this: these hills were at first composed of the clays that i have mentioned, mingled with an immense quantity of combustible material, such as coal, sulphur, bitumen, etc.; these have been destroyed by fire, or (at least the greater part) by volcanic action, as to this day, on the black hills and in the hills near where i have been, fire still exists; and from the immense quantities of pumice-stone and melted ores found among the hills, even were there no fire now to be seen, no one could doubt that it had, at some date or other, been there; as soon as this process had ceased, the rains washed out the loose material, and carried it to the rivers, leaving the more solid parts as we now find them; the action of water to this day continues. as i have said, the bighorns are very fond of resorting to the shelves, or ledges, on the sides of the hills, during the heat of the day, when these places are shaded; here they lie, but are aroused instantly upon the least appearance of danger, and, as soon as they have discovered the cause of alarm, away they go, over hill and ravine, occasionally stopping to look round, and when ascending the steepest hill, there is no apparent diminution of their speed. they will ascend and descend places, when thus alarmed, so inaccessible that it is almost impossible to conceive how, and where, they find a foothold. when observed before they see the hunter, or while they are looking about when first alarmed, are the only opportunities the hunter has to shoot them; for, as soon as they start there is no hope, as to follow and find them is a task not easily accomplished, for where or how far they go when thus on the alert, heaven only knows, as but few hunters have ever attempted a chase. at all times they have to be approached with the greatest caution, as the least thing renders them on the qui vive. when not found on these shelves, they are seen on the tops of the most inaccessible and highest hills, looking down on the hunters, apparently conscious of their security, or else lying down tranquilly in some sunny spot quite out of reach. as i have observed before, the only times that these animals can be shot are when on these ledges, or when moving from one point to another. sometimes they move only a few hundred yards, but it will take the hunter several hours to approach near enough for a shot, so long are the _détours_ he is compelled to make. i have been thus baffled two or three times. the less difficult hills are found cut up by paths made by these animals; these are generally about eighteen inches wide. these animals appear to be quite as agile as the european chamois, leaping down precipices, across ravines, and running up and down almost perpendicular hills. the only places i could find that seemed to afford food for them, was between the cedars, as i have before mentioned; but the places where they are most frequently found are barren, and without the least vestige of vegetation. from the character of the lands where these animals are found, their own shyness, watchfulness, and agility, it is readily seen what the hunter must endure, and what difficulties he must undergo to near these "wild goats." it is one constant time of toil, anxiety, fatigue, and danger. such the country! such the animal! such the hunting! _august ._ started from fort union at m. in the mackinaw barge "union." shot five young ducks. camped at the foot of a high bluff. good supper of chickens and ducks. _thursday, th._ started early. saw three bighorns, some antelopes, and many deer, fully twenty; one wolf, twenty-two swans, many ducks. stopped a short time on a bar. mr. culbertson shot a female elk, and i killed two bulls. camped at buffalo bluff, where we found bear tracks. _friday, th._ fine. bell shot a superb male elk. the two bulls untouched since killed. stopped to make an oar, when i caught four catfish. "kayac" is the french missourian's name for buffalo bluffs, original french for moose; in assiniboin "tah-tah," in blackfoot "sick-e-chi-choo," in sioux "tah-tah." fifteen to twenty female elks drinking, tried to approach them, but they broke and ran off to the willows and disappeared. we landed and pursued them. bell shot at one, but did not find it, though it was badly wounded. these animals are at times unwary, but at others vigilant, suspicious, and well aware of the coming of their enemies. _saturday, th._ wolves howling, and bulls roaring, just like the long continued roll of a hundred drums. saw large gangs of buffaloes walking along the river. headed knife river one and a half miles. fresh signs of indians, burning wood embers, etc. i knocked a cow down with two balls, and mr. culbertson killed her. abundance of bear tracks. saw a great number of bushes bearing the berries of which mrs. culbertson has given me a necklace. herds of buffaloes on the prairies. mr. culbertson killed another cow, and in going to see it i had a severe fall over a partially sunken log. bell killed a doe and wounded the fawn. _sunday, th._ _tamias quadrivittatus_ runs up trees; abundance of them in the ravine, and harris killed one. bell wounded an antelope. thousands upon thousands of buffaloes; the roaring of these animals resembles the grunting of hogs, with a rolling sound from the throat. mr. c. killed two cows, sprague killed one bull, and i made two sketches of it after death. the men killed a cow, and the bull would not leave her although shot four times. stopped by the high winds all this day. suffered much from my fall. _monday, st._ buffaloes all over the bars and prairies, and many swimming; the roaring can be heard for miles. the wind stopped us again at eight o'clock; breakfasted near the tracks of bears surrounded by hundreds of buffaloes. we left our safe anchorage and good hunting-grounds too soon; the wind blew high, and we were obliged to land again on the opposite shore, where the gale has proved very annoying. bear tracks led us to search for those animals, but in vain. collected seeds. shot at a rabbit, but have done nothing. saw many young and old ducks,--black mallards and gadwalls. i shot a bull and broke his thigh, and then shot at him thirteen times before killing. camped at the same place. _tuesday, d._ left early and travelled about twelve miles. went hunting elks. mr. culbertson killed a deer, and he and squires brought the meat in on their backs. i saw nothing, but heard shots which i thought were from harris. i ran for upwards of a mile to look for him, hallooing the whole distance, but saw nothing of him. sent three men who hallooed also, but came back without further intelligence. bell shot a female elk and brought in part of the meat. we walked to the little missouri and shot the fourth bull this trip. we saw many ducks. in the afternoon we started again, and went below the little missouri, returned to the bull and took his horns, etc. coming back to the boat sprague saw a bear; we went towards the spot; the fellow had turned under the high bank and was killed in a few seconds. mr. culbertson shot it first through the neck, bell and i in the body. _wednesday, d._ provost skinned the bear. no prairie-dogs caught. the wind high and cold. later two prairie-dogs were shot; their notes resemble precisely those of the arkansas flycatcher. left this afternoon and travelled about ten miles. saw another bear and closely observed its movements. we saw several drowned buffaloes, and were passed by wolves and passenger pigeons. camped in a bad place under a sky with every appearance of rain. _thursday, th._ a bad night of wind, very cloudy; left early, as the wind lulled and it became calm. passed "l'ours qui danse," travelled about twenty miles, when we were again stopped by the wind. hunted, but found nothing. the fat of our bear gave us seven bottles of oil. we heard what some thought to be guns, but i believed it to be the falling of the banks. then the wolves howled so curiously that it was supposed they were indian dogs. we went to bed all prepared for action in case of an attack; pistols, knives, etc., but i slept very well, though rather cold. _friday, th._ fair, but foggy, so we did not start early. i found some curious stones with impressions of shells. it was quite calm, and we passed the two riccaree winter villages. many eagles and peregrine falcons. shot another bull. passed the gros ventre village at noon; no game about the place. "la main gauche," an assiniboin chief of great renown, left seventy warriors killed and thirty wounded on the prairie opposite, the year following the small-pox. the gros ventres are a courageous tribe. reached the mandan village; hundreds of indians swam to us with handkerchiefs tied on their heads like turbans. our old friend "four bears" met us on the shore; i gave him eight pounds of tobacco. he came on board and went down with us to fort clark, which we reached at four o'clock. mr. culbertson and squires rode out to the gros ventre village with "four bears" after dark, and returned about eleven; they met with another chief who curiously enough was called "the iron bear." _saturday, th._ fine, but a cold, penetrating wind. started early and landed to breakfast. a canoe passed us with two men from the opposition. we were stopped by the wind for four hours, but started again at three; passed the butte quarré at a quarter past five, followed now by the canoe, as the two fellows are afraid of indians, and want to come on board our boat; we have not room for them, but will let them travel with us. landed for the night, and walked to the top of one of the buttes from which we had a fine and very extensive view. saw a herd of buffaloes, which we approached, but by accident did not kill a cow. harris, whom we thought far off, shot too soon and moncrévier and the rest of us lost our chances. we heard elks whistling, and saw many swans. the canoe men camped close to us. _sunday, th._ started early in company with the canoe. saw four wolves and six bulls, the latter to our sorrow in a compact group and therefore difficult to attack. they are poor at this season, and the meat very rank, but yet are fresh meat. the wind continued high, but we landed in the weeds assisted by the canoe men, as we saw a gang of cows. we lost them almost immediately though we saw their _wet tracks_ and followed them for over a mile, but then gave up the chase. on returning to the river we missed the boat, as she had been removed to a better landing below; so we had quite a search for her. mrs. culbertson worked at the _parflèche_ with golden eagle feathers; she had killed the bird herself. stopped by the wind at noon. walked off and saw buffaloes, but the wind was adverse. bell and harris, however, killed a cow, a single one, that had been wounded, whether by shot or by an arrow no one can tell. we saw a bull on a sand-bar; the poor fool took to the water and swam so as to meet us. we shot at him about a dozen times, i shot him through one eye, bell, harris, and sprague about the head, and yet the animal made for our boat and came so close that mr. culbertson touched him with a pole, when he turned off and swam across the river, but acted as if wild or crazy; he ran on a sand-bar, and at last swam again to the opposite shore, in my opinion to die, but mr. culbertson says he may live for a month. we landed in a good harbor on the east side about an hour before sundown. moncrévier caught a catfish that weighed sixteen pounds, a fine fish, though the smaller ones are better eating. _monday, th._ a gale all night and this morning also. we are in a good place for hunting, and i hope to have more to say anon. the men returned and told us of many bear tracks, and four of us started off. such a walk i do not remember; it was awful--mire, willows, vines, holes, fallen logs; we returned much fatigued and having seen nothing. the wind blowing fiercely. _tuesday, th._ heavy wind all night. bad dreams about my own lucy. walked some distance along the shores and caught many catfish. two deer on the other shore. cut a cotton-tree to fasten to the boat to break the force of the waves. the weather has become sultry. beavers during the winter oftentimes come down amid the ice, but enter any small stream they meet with at once. apple river, or creek, was formerly a good place for them, as well as cannon ball river. saw a musk-rat this morning swimming by our barge. slept on a muddy bar with abundance of mosquitoes. _wednesday, th._ started at daylight. mr. culbertson and i went off to the prairies over the most infernal ground i ever saw, but we reached the high prairies by dint of industry, through swamps and mire. we saw two bulls, two calves, and one cow; we killed the cow and the larger calf, a beautiful young bull; returned to the boat through the most abominable swamp i ever travelled through, and reached the boat at one o'clock, thirsty and hungry enough. bell and all the men went after the meat and the skin of the young bull. i shot the cow, but missed the calf by shooting above it. we started later and made about ten miles before sunset. _thursday, st._ started early; fine and calm. saw large flocks of ducks, geese, and swans; also four wolves. passed mr. primeau's winter trading-house; reached cannon ball river at half-past twelve. no game; water good-tasted, but warm. dinner on shore. saw a rock wren on the bluffs here. saw the prairie on fire, and signs of indians on both sides. weather cloudy and hot. reached beaver creek. provost went after beavers, but found none. caught fourteen catfish. saw a wonderful example of the power of the buffalo in working through the heavy, miry bottom lands. _friday, september ._ hard rain most of the night, and uncomfortably hot. left our encampment at eight o'clock. saw buffaloes and landed, but on approaching them found only bulls; so returned empty-handed to the boat, and started anew. we landed for the night on a large sand-bar connected with the mainland, and saw a large gang of buffaloes, and mr. culbertson and a man went off; they shot at two cows and killed one, but lost her, as she fell in the river and floated down stream, and it was dusk. a heavy cloud arose in the west, thunder was heard, yet the moon and stars shone brightly. after midnight rain came on. the mosquitoes are far too abundant for comfort. _saturday, september ._ fine but windy. went about ten miles and stopped, for the gale was so severe. no fresh meat on board. saw eight wolves, four white ones. walked six miles on the prairies, but saw only three bulls. the wind has risen to a gale. saw abundance of black-breasted prairie larks, and a pond with black ducks. returned to the pond after dinner and killed four ducks. _sunday, d._ beautiful, calm, and cold. left early and at noon put ashore to kill a bull, having no fresh meat on board. he took the wind and ran off. touched on a bar, and i went overboard to assist in pushing off and found the water very pleasant, for our cold morning had turned into a hot day. harris shot a prairie wolf. at half-past four saw ten or twelve buffaloes. mr. culbertson, bell, a canoe man, and i, went after them; the cattle took to the river, and we went in pursuit; the other canoe man landed, and ran along the shore, but could not head them. he shot, however, and as the cattle reached the bank we gave them a volley, but uselessly, and are again under way. bell and mr. c. were well mired and greatly exhausted in consequence. no meat for another day. stopped for the night at the mouth of the moreau river. wild pigeons, sandpipers, but no fish. _monday, th._ cool night. wind rose early, but a fine morning. stopped by the wind at eleven. mr. culbertson, bell, and moncrévier gone shooting. many signs of elk, etc., and flocks of wild pigeons. a bad place for hunting, but good for safety. found beaver tracks, and small trees cut down by them. provost followed the bank and found their lodge, which he says is an old one. it is at present a mass of sticks of different sizes matted together, and fresh tracks are all around it. to dig them out would have proved impossible, and we hope to catch them in traps to-night. beavers often feed on berries when they can reach them, especially buffalo berries [_shepherdia argentea_]. mr. culbertson killed a buck, and we have sent men to bring it entire. the beavers in this lodge are not residents, but vagrant beavers. the buck was brought in; it is of the same kind as at fort union, having a longer tail, we think, than the kind found east. its horns were very small, but it is skinned and in brine. we removed our camp about a hundred yards lower down, but the place as regards wood is very bad. provost and i went to set traps for beaver; he first cut two dry sticks eight or nine feet long; we reached the river by passing through the tangled woods; he then pulled off his breeches and waded about with a pole to find the depth of the water, and having found a fit spot he dug away the mud in the shape of a half circle, placed a bit of willow branch at the bottom and put the trap on that. he had two small willow sticks in his mouth; he split an end of one, dipped it in his horn of castoreum, or "medicine," as he calls his stuff, and left on the end of it a good mass of it, which was placed in front of the jaws of the trap next the shore; he then made the chain of the trap secure, stuck in a few untrimmed branches on each side, and there the business ended. the second one was arranged in the same way, except that there was no bit of willow under it. beavers when caught in shallow water are often attacked by the otter, and in doing this the latter sometimes lose their own lives, as they are very frequently caught in the other trap placed close by. mr. culbertson and bell returned without having shot, although we heard one report whilst setting the traps. elks are very numerous here, but the bushes crack and make so much noise that they hear the hunters and fly before them. bell shot five pigeons at once. harris and squires are both poorly, having eaten too indulgently of buffalo brains. we are going to move six or seven hundred yards lower down, to spend the night in a more sheltered place. i hope i may have a large beaver to-morrow. [illustration: camp on the missouri. from a drawing by isaac sprague.] _tuesday, th._ at daylight, after some discussion about beaver lodges, harris, bell, provost, and i, with two men, went to the traps--nothing caught. we now had the lodge demolished outwardly, namely, all the sticks removed, under which was found a hole about two and a half feet in diameter, through which harris, bell, and moncrévier (who had followed us) entered, but found nothing within, as the beaver had gone to the river. harris saw it, and also the people at the boat. i secured some large specimens of the cuttings used to build the lodge, and a pocketful of the chips. before beavers fell the tree they long for, they cut down all the small twigs and saplings around. the chips are cut above and below, and then split off by the animal; the felled trees lay about us in every direction. we left our camp at half-past five; i again examined the lodge, which was not finished, though about six feet in diameter. we saw a pigeon hawk giving chase to a spotted sandpiper on the wing. when the hawk was about to seize the little fellow it dove under water and escaped. this was repeated five or six times; to my great surprise and pleasure, the hawk was obliged to relinquish the prey. as the wind blew high, we landed to take breakfast, on a fine beach, portions of which appeared as if paved by the hand of man. the canoe men killed a very poor cow, which had been wounded, and so left alone. the wind fell suddenly, and we proceeded on our route till noon, when it rose, and we stopped again. mr. culbertson went hunting, and returned having killed a young buck elk. dined, and walked after the meat and skin, and took the measurements. returning, saw two elks driven to the hills by mr. culbertson and bell. met harris, and started a monstrous buck elk from its couch in a bunch of willows; shot at it while running about eighty yards off, but it was not touched. meantime provost had heard us from our dinner camp; loading his rifle he came within ten paces, when his gun snapped. we yet hope to get this fine animal. harris found a dove's nest with one young one, and an egg just cracked by the bird inside; the nest was on the ground. curious all this at this late late season, and in a woody part of the country. saw a bat. _wednesday, th._ wind blowing harder. ransacked the point and banks both below and above, but saw only two wolves; one a dark gray, the largest i have yet seen. harris shot a young of the sharp-tailed grouse; bell, three pigeons; provost went off to the second point below, about four miles, after elks; sprague found another nest of doves on the ground, with very small young. the common bluebird was seen, also a whip-poor-will and a night-hawk. wind high and from the south. _thursday, th._ about eleven o'clock last night the wind shifted _suddenly_ to northwest, and blew so violently that we all left the boat in a hurry. mrs. culbertson, with her child in her arms, made for the willows, and had a shelter for her babe in a few minutes. our guns and ammunition were brought on shore, as we were afraid of our boat sinking. we returned on board after a while; but i could not sleep, the motion making me very sea-sick; i went back to the shore and lay down after mending our fire. it rained hard for about two hours; the sky then became clear, and the wind wholly subsided, so i went again to the boat and slept till eight o'clock. a second gale now arose; the sky grew dark; we removed our boat to a more secure position, but i fear we are here for another day. bell shot a _caprimulgus_,[ ] so small that i have no doubt it is the one found on the rocky mountains by nuttall, after whom i have named it. these birds are now travelling south. mr. culbertson and i walked up the highest hills of the prairie, but saw nothing. the river has suddenly risen two feet, the water rises now at the rate of eight inches in two and a half hours, and the wind has somewhat moderated. the little whip-poor-will proves an old male, but it is now in moult. left our camp at five, and went down rapidly to an island four miles below. mr. culbertson, bell, harris, and provost went off to look for elks, but i fear fruitlessly, as i see no tracks, nor do i find any of their beds. about ten o'clock harris called me to hear the notes of the new whip-poor-will; we heard two at once, and the sound was thus: "oh-will, oh-will," repeated often and quickly, as in our common species. the night was beautiful, but cold. _friday, th._ cloudy and remarkably cold; the river has risen ½ feet since yesterday, and the water is muddy and thick. started early. the effect of sudden rises in this river is wonderful upon the sand-bars, which are no sooner covered by a foot or so of water than they at once break up, causing very high waves to run, through which no small boat could pass without imminent danger. the swells are felt for many feet as if small waves at sea. appearances of rain. the current very strong; but we reached fort pierre at half-past five, and found all well. _saturday, th._ rain all night. breakfasted at the fort. exchanged our boat for a larger one. orders found here obliged mr. culbertson to leave us and go to the platte river establishment, much to my regret. _sunday, th._ very cloudy. mr. culbertson gave me a _parflèche_[ ] which had been presented to him by "l'ours de fer," the sioux chief. it is very curiously painted, and is a record of a victory of the sioux over their enemies, the gros ventres. two rows of horses with indians dressed in full war rig are rushing onwards; small black marks everywhere represent the horse tracks; round green marks are shields thrown away by the enemy in their flight, and red spots on the horses, like wafers, denote wounds. _monday, th._ cloudy; the men at work fitting up our new boat. rained nearly all day, and the wind shifted to every point of the compass. nothing done. _tuesday, th._ partially clear this morning early, but rained by ten o'clock. nothing done. _wednesday, th._ rainy again. many birds were seen moving southwest. our boat is getting into travelling shape. i did several drawings of objects in and about the fort. _thursday, th._ cloudy and threatening. mr. laidlow making ready to leave for fort union, and ourselves for our trip down the river. mr. laidlow left at half-past eleven, and we started at two this afternoon; landed at the farm belonging to the fort, and procured a few potatoes, some corn, and a pig. _friday, th._ a foggy morning. reached fort george. mr. illingsworth left at half-past ten. wind ahead, and we were obliged to stop on this account at two. fresh signs of both indians and buffaloes, but nothing killed. _saturday, th._ windy till near daylight. started early; passed ebbett's new island. bell heard parrakeets. the day was perfectly calm. found _arvicola pennsylvanica_. landed at the great bend for black-tailed deer and wood. have seen nothing worthy our attention. squires put up a board at our old camp the "six trees," which i hope to see again. the deer are lying down, and we shall not go out to hunt again till near sunset. the note of the meadow lark here is now unheard. i saw fully two hundred flying due south. collected a good deal of the yucca plant. _sunday, th._ we had a hard gale last night with rain for about an hour. this morning was beautiful; we started early, but only ran for two hours, when we were forced to stop by the wind, which blew a gale. provost saw fresh signs of indians, and we were told that there were a few lodges at the bottom of the bend, about two miles below us. the wind is north and quite cold, and the contrast between to-day and yesterday is great. went shooting, and killed three sharp-tailed grouse. left our camp about three o'clock as the wind abated. saw ten or twelve antelopes on the prairie where the grouse were. we camped about a mile from the spot where we landed in may last, at the end of the great bend. the evening calm and beautiful. _monday, th._ the weather cloudy and somewhat windy. started early; saw a fish hawk, two gulls, two white-headed eagles and abundance of golden plovers. the sharp-tailed grouse feeds on rose-berries and the seeds of the wild sunflower and grasshoppers. stopped at twenty minutes past nine, the wind was so high, and warmed some coffee. many dead buffaloes are in the ravines and on the prairies. harris, bell, and sprague went hunting, but had no show with such a wind. sprague outlined a curious hill. the wind finally shifted, and then lulled down. saw say's flycatcher, with a grosbeak. saw two of the common titlark. left again at two, with a better prospect. landed at sunset on the west side. signs of indians. wolves howling, and found one dead on the shore, but too far gone to be skinned; i was sorry, as it was a beautiful gray one. these animals feed on wild plums in great quantities. tried to shoot some doves for my fox and badger, but without success. pea-vines very scarce. _tuesday, th._ dark and drizzly. did not start until six. reached cedar island, and landed for wood to use on the boat. bell went off hunting. wind north. found no fit trees and left. passed the burning cliffs and got on a bar. the weather fine, and wind behind us. wolves will even eat the frogs found along the shores of this river. saw five, all gray. at three o'clock we were obliged to stop on account of the wind, under a poor point. no game. _wednesday, th._ wind very high. tracks of wild cats along the shore. the motion of the boat is so great it makes me sea-sick. sprague saw a sharp-tailed grouse. we left at half-past twelve. saw immense numbers of pin-tailed ducks, but could not get near them. stopped on an island to procure pea-vines for my young deer, and found plenty. our camp of last night was only two miles and a half below white river. ran on a bar and were delayed nearly half an hour. shot two blue-winged teal. camped opposite bijou's hill. _thursday, st._ wind and rain most of the night. started early. weather cloudy and cold. landed to examine burnt hills, and again on an island for pea-vines. fresh signs of indians. saw many antelopes and mule deer. at twelve saw a bull on one side of the river, and in a few moments after a herd of ten cattle on the other side. landed, and squires, harris, bell, and provost have gone to try to procure fresh meat; these are the first buffaloes seen since we left fort pierre. the hunters only killed one bull; no cows among eleven bulls, and this is strange at this season. saw three more bulls in a ravine. stopped to camp at the lower end of great cedar island at five o'clock. fresh signs of buffaloes and deer. we cut some timber for oars. rain set in early in the evening, and it rained hard all night. _friday, d._ raining; left at a quarter past eight, with the wind ahead. distant thunder. everything wet and dirty after a very uncomfortable night. we went down the river about a mile, when we were forced to come to on the opposite side by the wind and the rain. played cards for a couple of hours. no chance to cook or get hot coffee, on account of the heavy storm. we dropped down a few miles and finally camped till next day in the mud, but managed to make a roaring fire. wolves in numbers howling all about us, and owls hooting also. still raining heavily. we played cards till nine o'clock to kill time. our boat a quagmire. _saturday, d._ a cloudy morning; we left at six o'clock. five wolves were on a sand-bar very near us. saw red-shafted woodpeckers, and two house swallows. have made a good run of about sixty miles. at four this afternoon we took in three men of the steamer "new haven" belonging to the opposition, which was fast on the bar, eight miles below. we reached ponca island and landed for the night. at dusk the steamer came up, and landed above us, and we found messrs. cutting and taylor, and i had the gratification of a letter from victor and johnny, of july d. _sunday, th._ cloudy, windy, and cold. both the steamer and ourselves left as soon as we could see. saw a wolf on a bar, and a large flock of white pelicans, which we took at first for a keel-boat. passed the poncas, l'eau qui court, manuel, and basil rivers by ten o'clock.[ ] landed just below basil river, stopped by wind. hunted and shot one raven, one turkey buzzard, and four wood-ducks. ripe plums abound, and there are garfish in the creek. found feathers of the wild turkey. signs of indians, elks, and deer. provost and the men made four new oars. went to bed early. _monday, th._ blowing hard all night, and began raining before day. cold, wet, and misty. started at a quarter past ten, passed bonhomme island at four, and landed for the night at five, fifteen miles below. _tuesday, th._ cold and cloudy; started early. shot a pelican. passed jack's river at eleven. abundance of wild geese. bell killed a young white pelican. weather fairer but coldish. sprague killed a goose, but it was lost. camped a few miles above the vermilion river. harris saw raccoon tracks on basil river. _wednesday, th._ cloudy but calm. many wood-ducks, and saw raccoon tracks again this morning. passed the vermilion river at half-past seven. my badger got out of his cage last night, and we had to light a candle to secure it. we reached the fort of vermilion at twelve, and met with a kind reception from mr. pascal. previous to this we met a barge going up, owned and commanded by mr. tybell, and found our good hunter michaux. he asked me to take him down, and i promised him $ per month to st. louis. we bought two barrels of superb potatoes, two of corn, and a good fat cow. for the corn and potatoes i paid no less than $ . . _thursday, th._ a beautiful morning, and we left at eight. the young man who brought me the calf at fort george has married a squaw, a handsome girl, and she is here with him. antelopes are found about twenty-five miles from this fort, but not frequently. landed fifteen miles below on elk point. cut up and salted the cow. provost and i went hunting, and saw three female elks, but the order was to shoot only bucks; a large one started below us, jumped into the river, and swam across, carrying his horns flat down and spread on each side of his back; the neck looked to me about the size of a flour-barrel. harris killed a hen turkey, and bell and the others saw plenty but did not shoot, as elks were the order of the day. i cannot eat beef after being fed on buffaloes. i am getting an old man, for this evening i missed my footing on getting into the boat, and bruised my knee and my elbow, but at seventy and over i cannot have the spring of seventeen. _friday, th._ rained most of the night, and it is raining and blowing at present. crossed the river and have encamped at the mouth of the iowa river,[ ] the boundary line of the sioux and omahas. harris shot a wolf. my knee too sore to allow me to walk. stormy all day. _saturday, th._ hard rain all night, the water rose four inches. found a new species of large bean in the wild turkey. mosquitoes rather troublesome. the sun shining by eight o'clock, and we hope for a good dry day. whip-poor-wills heard last night, and night-hawks seen flying. saw a long-tailed squirrel that ran on the shore at the cry of our badger. michaux had the boat landed to bring on a superb set of elk-horns that he secured last week. abundance of geese and ducks. weather clouding over again, and at two we were struck by a heavy gale of wind, and were obliged to land on the weather shore; the wind continued heavy, and the motion of the boat was too much for me, so i slipped on shore and with michaux made a good camp, where we rolled ourselves in our blankets and slept soundly. _sunday, october ._ the wind changed, and lulled before morning, so we left at a quarter past six. the skies looked rather better, nevertheless we had several showers. passed the [big] sioux river at twenty minutes past eleven. heard a pileated woodpecker, and saw fish crows. geese very abundant. landed below the sioux river to shoot turkeys, having seen a large male on the bluffs. bell killed a hen, and harris two young birds; these will keep us going some days. stopped again by the wind opposite floyd's grave; started again and ran about four miles, when we were obliged to land in a rascally place at twelve o'clock. had hail and rain at intervals. camped at the mouth of the omaha river, six miles from the village. the wild geese are innumerable. the wind has ceased and stars are shining. _monday, d._ beautiful but _cold_. the water has risen nine inches, and we travel well. started early. stopped at eight by the wind at a vile place, but plenty of jerusalem artichokes, which we tried and found very good. started again at three, and made a good run till sundown, when we found a fair camping-place and made our supper from excellent young geese. _tuesday, d._ a beautiful, calm morning; we started early. saw three deer on the bank. a prairie wolf travelled on the shore beside us for a long time before he found a place to get up on the prairie. plenty of sandhill cranes were seen as we passed the little sioux river. saw three more deer, another wolf, two swans, several pelicans, and abundance of geese and ducks. passed soldier river at two o'clock. we were caught by a snag that scraped and tore us a little. had we been two feet nearer, it would have ruined our barge. we passed through a very swift cut-off, most difficult of entrance. we have run eighty-two miles and encamped at the mouth of the cut-off, near the old bluffs. killed two mallards; the geese and ducks are abundant beyond description. brag, harris' dog, stole and hid all the meat that had been cooked for our supper. _wednesday, th._ cloudy and coldish. left early and can't find my pocket knife, which i fear i have lost. we were stopped by the wind at cabané bluffs, about twenty miles above fort croghan; we all hunted, with only fair results. saw some hazel bushes, and some black walnuts. wind-bound till night, and nothing done. _thursday, th._ blew hard all night, but a clear and beautiful sunrise. started early, but stopped by the wind at eight. bell, harris, and squires have started off for fort croghan. as there was every appearance of rain we left at three and reached the fort about half-past four. found all well, and were most kindly received. we were presented with some green corn, and had a quantity of bread made, also bought thirteen eggs from an indian for twenty-five cents. honey bees are found here, and do well, but none are seen above this place. i had an unexpected slide on the bank, as it had rained this afternoon; and squires had also one at twelve in the night, when he and harris with sprague came to the boat after having played whist up to that hour. _friday, th._ some rain and thunder last night. a tolerable day. breakfast at the camp, and left at half-past eight. our man michaux was passed over to the officer's boat, to steer them down to fort leavenworth, where they are ordered, but we are to keep in company, and he is to cook for us at night. the whole station here is broken up, and captain burgwin[ ] leaves in a few hours by land with the dragoons, horses, etc. stopped at belle vue at nine, and had a kind reception; bought lbs. coffee, eggs, lbs. butter, and some black pepper. abundance of indians, of four different nations. major miller, the agent, is a good man for this place. left again at eleven. a fine day. passed the platte and its hundreds of snags, at a quarter past one, and stopped for the men to dine. the stream quite full, and we saw some squaws on the bar, the village was in sight. killed two pelicans, but only got one. encamped about thirty miles below fort croghan. lieutenant carleton supped with us, and we had a rubber of whist. _saturday, th._ fine night, and fine morning. started too early, while yet dark, and got on a bar. passed mcpherson's, the first house in the state of missouri, at eight o'clock. bell skinned the young of _fringilla harrisi_. lieutenant carleton came on board to breakfast with us--a fine companion and a perfect gentleman. indian war-whoops were heard by him and his men whilst embarking this morning after we left. we encamped at the mouth of nishnebottana, a fine, clear stream. went to the house of mr. beaumont, who has a pretty wife. we made a fine run of sixty or seventy miles. _sunday, th._ cloudy, started early, and had rain by eight o'clock. stopped twice by the storm, and played cards to relieve the dulness. started at noon, and ran till half-past four. the wind blowing hard we stopped at a good place for our encampment. presented a plate of the quadrupeds to lieut. james henry carleton,[ ] and he gave me a fine black bear skin, and has promised me a set of elk horns. stopped on the east side of the river in the evening. saw a remarkably large flock of geese passing southward. _monday, th._ beautiful and calm; started early. bell shot a gray squirrel, which was divided and given to my fox and my badger. squires, carleton, harris, bell, and sprague walked across the bend to the black snake hills, and killed six gray squirrels, four parrakeets, and two partridges. bought butter, eggs, and some whiskey for the men; exchanged knives with the lieutenant. started and ran twelve miles to a good camp on the indian side. _tuesday, th._ beautiful morning, rather windy; started early. great flocks of geese and pelicans; killed two of the latter. reached fort leavenworth at four, and, as usual everywhere, received most kindly treatment and reception from major morton. lieutenant carleton gave me the elk horns. wrote to john bachman, gideon b. smith, and a long letter home. _wednesday, th._ received a most welcome present of melons, chickens, bread, and butter from the generous major. lieutenant carleton came to see me off, and we parted reluctantly. left at half-past six; weather calm and beautiful. game scarce, paw-paws plentiful. stopped at madame chouteau's, where i bought three pumpkins. stopped at liberty landing and delivered the letters of laidlow to black harris. reached independence landing at sundown; have run sixty miles. found no letters. steamer "lebanon" passed upwards at half-past eight. _thursday, th._ beautiful and calm; stopped and bought eggs, etc., at a mr. shivers', from kentucky. ran well to lexington, where we again stopped for provisions; ran sixty miles to-day. _friday, th._ heavy white frost, and very foggy. started early and ran well. tried to buy butter at several places, but in vain. at greenville bought coffee. abundance of geese and white pelicans; many sandhill cranes. harris killed a wood-duck. passed grand river; stopped at new brunswick, where we bought excellent beef at ½ cents a pound, but very inferior to buffalo. camped at a deserted wood yard, after running between sixty and seventy miles. _saturday, th._ a windy night, and after eight days' good run, i fear we shall be delayed to-day. stopped by a high wind at twelve o'clock. we ran ashore, and i undertook to push the boat afloat, and undressing for the purpose got so deep in the mud that i had to spend a much longer time than i desired in very cold water. visited two farm houses, and bought chickens, eggs, and butter; very little of this last. at one place we procured corn bread. the squatter visited our boat, and we camped near him. he seemed a good man; was from north carolina, and had a fine family. michaux killed two hutchins' geese,[ ] the first i ever saw in the flesh. ran about twenty miles; steamer "lebanon" passed us going downwards, one hour before sunset. turkeys and long-tailed squirrels very abundant. _sunday, th._ cold, foggy, and cloudy; started early. passed chariton river and village, and glasgow; bought bread, and oats for my deer. abundance of geese and ducks. passed arrow rock at eleven. passed boonesville, the finest country on this river; rocheport, with high, rocky cliffs; six miles below which we encamped, having run sixty miles. _monday, th._ beautiful autumnal morning, a heavy white frost and no wind. started early, before six. the current very strong. passed nashville, marion, and steamer "lexington" going up. jefferson city at twelve. passed the osage river and saw twenty-four deer opposite smith landing; camped at sundown, and found giraud, the "strong man." ran sixty-one miles. met the steamer "satan," badly steered. abundance of geese and ducks everywhere. _tuesday, th._ calm and very foggy. started early and floated a good deal with the strong current. saw two deer. the fog cleared off by nine o'clock. passed the gasconade river at half-past nine. landed at pinckney to buy bread, etc. buffaloes have been seen mired, and unable to defend themselves, and the wolves actually eating their noses while they struggled, but were eventually killed by the wolves. passed washington and encamped below it at sundown; a good run. _wednesday, th._ fine and calm; started very early. passed mount pleasant. landed at st. charles to purchase bread, etc. provost became extremely drunk, and went off by land to st. louis. passed the charbonnière river, and encamped about one mile below. the steamer "tobacco plant" landed on the shore opposite. bell and harris killed a number of gray squirrels. _thursday, th._ a heavy white frost, foggy, but calm. we started early, the steamer after us. forced by the fog to stop on a bar, but reached st. louis at three in the afternoon. unloaded and sent all the things to nicholas berthoud's warehouse. wrote home. left st. louis october , in steamer "nautilus" for cincinnati. reached home at p.m., november th, , and thank god, found all my family quite well.[ ] [copied from bell's journal.[ ]] "_august ._ started at half-past seven this morning; saw several yellow-legs (godwits), and some young blue-winged teal in the pond in the first prairie. shot two curlews; saw two very fine male elks; they were lying down quite near us, under a bank where they got the wind of us. the sharp-tailed grouse are first-rate eating now, as they feed entirely on grasshoppers, and berries of different kinds. owen climbed a tree to a white-headed eagle's nest, and drove a young one out, which fell to the ground and was caught alive, and brought to the fort. is it not very remarkable that eagles of this species should have their young in the nest at this late season, when in the floridas i have shot them of the same size in february? shot at a wolf, which being wounded, went off about one hundred yards, and yelled like a dog; a very remarkable instance, as all we have killed or wounded, and they have been many, rarely make any sound, and if they do it is simply a snapping at their pursuer. as we went up the missouri on the th instant, i found numbers of cliff swallow's nests, with the old ones feeding their young. this is also very late and uncommon at this season. saw a peregrine falcon feeding its young. la fleur shot two bucks of the white-tailed deer with two shots, and the meat, which we brought home, proved fat and good. saw beaver tracks, and young green-winged teals. we saw hills impregnated with sulphur and coal, some of them on fire, and now and then portions of them gave way, by hundreds of tons at a time. in one place i saw a vein of coal on fire; we were following a path close to the foot of a high hill, and at a turn as we looked ahead, we found the way suddenly blocked by the earth falling down from above us, and looking up saw a line of coal, or other dark substance; it was about two feet thick, and about seventy-five feet from the bottom and forty from the top. it was burning very slowly, and in several places, for about fifty yards, emitting whitish smoke, something like sulphur when burning, and turning the earth or rock above, quite red, or of a brick color. it would undermine the earth above, which then fell in large masses, and this was the cause of the obstruction in the path before us. it must have been burning for a long time, as it had already burned some distance along the hill, and hundreds of tons of earth had fallen. in some places i saw banks of clay twenty feet high, quite red, hard in some parts, and in others very scaly and soft, even crumbling to pieces. where the fire was burning, the clay was red, varying from one to three feet in thickness; no appearance of coal presented itself where the fire had passed along and was extinguished, but very distinct above the fire, and i have no doubt there is a small quantity of sulphur mixed with this coal, or whatever the substance may be. in another place a short distance from these hills, and in a ravine, i also saw some red stones which looked very much as if the corners of a house which had once been there still remained, with the remnants of two sides yet straight. these stones varied from six to twenty inches in thickness, and many of them were square and about eighteen or twenty feet high; we had not time to remain and examine and measure as carefully as i should have liked to do." [illustration: mrs. audubon, . from a daguerreotype.] extracts from mr. culbertson's journal, kept at fort mckenzie, blackfeet indian country in .[ ] "_friday, june ._ blood indians started this morning to go to war against the crows. they had not left long, when the 'old bull's backfat's' son, with his sister, brother, and brother-in-law, returned to the fort, saying they must go back to the camp. after i had given them tobacco and ammunition they all started, but did not get more than two miles from the fort before they were all killed by the crows, except one, who by some means leaped on one of the crow horses and fled to the fort. the squaw no doubt was taken prisoner, as in the evening i went out and found the bodies of her husband and brother, but she was not there. on saturday, the th, i went out and brought in the bodies, and had them decently interred. the young man who had escaped was only slightly wounded, and started again for the camp with three gros ventres. "_tuesday, th._ we were all surprised this evening at the arrival of the squaw who had been taken prisoner, and who had been carried to the crow village where she was kept tied every night until the one in which she made her escape. during the previous day having it in contemplation to escape, she took the precaution of hiding a knife under her garment of skins, but most unfortunately she went out with one of the crow squaws, and in stooping, the knife fell out; this was reported, and as a punishment she was stripped of every particle of clothing, and when night came was not tied, as it was not imagined she would leave the cover of the tent. however, she decided nothing should keep her from availing herself of the only opportunity she might ever have; she started with _absolutely no covering of any kind_, and in this plight she travelled across the prairies, almost without stopping to rest, and with little food, for _four days and three nights_; unfortunately the weather was unusually cold for the season, as well as wet. she arrived at the fort in a most wretched and pitiable condition, but greatly to the joy and consolation of her relations and friends. she said that after her arrival at the crow village, they made her dance with the scalps of her brother and husband tied to her hair, and clothed in the bloody shirt of the latter. on wednesday, th, a band of four hundred crows arrived with the intention of taking the fort by stratagem if they could get the opportunity; but they failed in this, as i would not allow one of them inside the fort, or to come within firing distance of their arms. they used every artifice in their power to persuade me to let in a few of them to smoke the pipe of peace, assuring me that their intentions were good, and that they loved the white people. finding all this of no avail, they brought their best horses to give to me, for which they did not wish to receive anything more than the privilege of letting some of them come in; but all this was in vain, as i was well aware of their treacherous intentions. i divided my men in the two bastions, with orders to fire upon the first one that might approach during the night, and warned them of my having given such orders, telling them that i did not wish to strike the first blow, but that if they commenced they would go off with small numbers, and sore hearts. there was an american with them who now told me of their intentions, and that they were determined to take the fort. i sent them word by him that we were ready for them if they thought themselves able to do so, and to come and try; but when they saw our cannon pointed towards them, they were not so anxious to make a rush. on the th the crows made another attempt to get in, but after a long and persuasive talk they found that it would not do. they then crossed the river and came on the high bank opposite to the fort, and fired upon us, and while some of them were yet crossing the river i let loose a cannon ball among them, which, if it did no harm, made them move at a quick pace, and after a while they all went off, leaving us without food of any sort; but fortunately on monday the th, a party of blood indians came in from the crows with fifteen horses and considerable meat. the crows had taken all our horses shortly before, and promised to return them in a few days if i would let them in. i was also informed that they had even brought pack-horses to carry off the goods from the fort after having accomplished the destruction of the building and the massacre of ourselves." from these extracts the nature of the indians of these regions may be exemplified a thousand times better, _because true_, than by all the trashy stuff written and published by mr. catlin. description of fort union by edwin t. denig. july , "fort union, the principal and handsomest trading-post on the missouri river, is situated on the north side, about six and a half miles above the mouth of the yellowstone river; the country around it is beautiful, and well chosen for an establishment of the kind. the front of the fort is but a few steps, say twenty-five, from the bank of the missouri. behind the fort is a prairie with an agreeable ascent to the commencement of the bluffs, about one and a half miles in width, and two in length, surrounded at the borders with high hills, or bluffs. above and below, at the distance of two hundred yards commence the points, or bottoms, of the missouri, which contain great quantities of cottonwood, ash, and elm, supplying the fort with fuel, boat and building timber. the fort itself was begun in the fall of , under the superintendence of kenneth mckenzie, esq., an enterprising and enlightened scotchman, and now a well known and successful merchant in st. louis. as the immense deal of work about such an undertaking had but few men to accomplish it, it was not wholly completed till after the expiration of _four years_, and indeed since then has been greatly improved by the other gentlemen who subsequently took charge of the fort. the plan of the fort is laid nearly due north and south, fronting feet and running back feet. this space is enclosed by pickets or palisades of twenty feet high, made of large hewn cottonwood, and founded upon stone. the pickets are fitted into an open framework in the inside, of sufficient strength to counterbalance their weight, and sustained by braces in the form of an x, which reaches in the inside from the pickets to the frame, so as to make the whole completely solid and secure, from either storm or attack. on the southwest and northeast corners, are bastions, built entirely out of stone, and measuring feet square, over feet high, and the wall three feet thick; this is whitewashed. around the tops of the second stories are balconies with railings, which serve for observatories, and from the tops of the roofs are two flag-staffs feet high, on which wave the proud eagle of america. two weathercocks, one a buffalo bull, the other an eagle, complete the outsides. in the interior of the northeast bastion are placed opposite their port-holes one three-pounder iron cannon and one brass swivel, both mounted, and usually kept loaded, together with a dozen muskets in case of a sudden attack from the indians. balls, cartridges, and other ammunition are always in readiness for the use of the same. the contents of the southeast bastion are similar to those of the other, with the exception of the cannon, having but one small swivel. these and other preparations render the place impregnable to any force without, not furnished with artillery. the principal building in the establishment, and that of the gentleman in charge, or bourgeois, is now occupied by mr. culbertson, one of the partners of the company. it is feet front by feet depth, and a story and a half high. the front has a very imposing appearance, being neatly weather-boarded, and painted white, and with green window-shutters; it is roofed with shingle, painted red to preserve the wood. in the roof in front are four dormer windows, which serve to give light to the attic. the piazza in front adds much to the comfort and appearance, the posts are all turned, and painted white. it serves as a pleasant retreat from the heat of the day, and is a refreshing place to sleep at night when mosquitoes are plenty. mr. audubon, the naturalist, now here upon scientific researches, together with his secretary, mr. squires, prefer this hard bed to the more luxurious comforts of feathers and sheets. the interior of this building is handsomely papered and ornamented with portraits and pictures, and portioned off in the following manner. mr. culbertson has the principal room, which is large, commodious, and well-furnished; from it he has a view of all that passes within the fort. next to this is the office, which is devoted exclusively to the business of the company, which is immense. this department is now under my supervision (viz., e. t. denig). these two rooms occupy about one-half the building. in the middle is a hall, eight feet wide, which separates these rooms from the other part. in this is the mess-room, which is nearly equal in size to that of mr. culbertson. here the bourgeois, taking his seat at the head of the table, attends to its honors, and serves out the _luxuries_ this wilderness produces to his visitors and clerks, who are seated in their proper order and rank. the mechanics of the fort eat at the second table. adjoining this room is the residence of mr. denig. in the upper story are at present located mr. audubon and his suite. here from the pencils of mr. audubon and mr. sprague emanate the splendid paintings and drawings of animals and plants, which are the admiration of all; and the indians regard them as marvellous, and almost to be worshipped. in the room next to this is always kept a selection of saddlery and harness, in readiness for rides of pleasure, or for those rendered necessary for the protection of the horses which are kept on the prairie, and which suffer from frequent depredations on the part of the indians, which it is the duty of the men at the fort to ward off as far as possible. the next apartment is the tailor's shop, so placed as to be out of the way of the indian visitors as much as possible, who, were it at all easy of access, would steal some of the goods which it is necessary to have always on hand. so much for the principal house. on the east side of the fort, extending north and south, is a building, on range, all under one roof, ft. long by ft. deep, and used for the following purposes. a small room at the north end for stores and luggage; then the retail store, in which is kept a fair supply of merchandise, and where all white persons buy or sell. the prices of all goods are fixed by a tariff or stationary value, so that no bargaining or cheating is allowed; this department is now in charge of mr. larpenteur. adjoining this is the wholesale warehouse, in which is kept the principal stock of goods intended for the extensive trade; this room is ft. in length. next is a small room for the storage of meat and other supplies. at the end is the press room, where all robes, furs, and peltries are stored. the dimensions extend to the top of the roof inside, which roof is perfectly waterproof. it will contain from to packs of buffalo robes. all this range is very strongly put together, weather-boarded outside, and lined with plank within. it has also cellar and garret. opposite this, on the other side of the fort enclosure, is a similar range of buildings ft. long by ft. wide, perhaps not quite so strongly built, but sufficiently so to suit all purposes. the height of the building is in proportion to that of the pickets; it is one large story high, and shingle-roofed. this is partitioned off into six different apartments of nearly equal size. the first two are appropriated to the use of the clerks who may be stationed at the post. the next is the residence of the hunters, and the remaining three the dwellings of the men in the employ of the company. an ice-house by ft. is detached from this range, and is well filled with ice during the winter, which supply generally lasts till fall. here is put all fresh meat in the hot weather, and the fort in the summer season is usually provisioned for ten days. the kitchen is behind the bourgeois' house on the north side, and about two steps from the end of the hall,--so situated for convenience in carrying in the cooked victuals to the mess-room. two or three cooks are usually employed therein, at busy times more. the inside frame-work of the fort, which sustains the pickets, forms all around a space about eight feet wide described by the braces or =x=, and about fifteen feet high. a balcony is built on the top of this, having the summit of the =x= for its basis, and is formed of sawed plank nailed to cross beams from one brace to another. this balcony affords a pleasant walk all round the inside of the fort, within five feet of the top of the pickets; from here also is a good view of the surrounding neighborhood, and it is well calculated for a place of defence. it is a favorite place from which to shoot wolves after nightfall, and for standing guard in time of danger. the openings that would necessarily follow from such a construction, under the gallery, are fitted in some places with small huts or houses. behind the kitchen there are five of such houses, leaving at the same time plenty of space between them and the other buildings. the first of these is a stable for buffalo calves, which are annually raised here, being caught during the severe storms of winter; the second a hen-house, well lined, plastered, and filled with chickens; third, a very pleasant room intended as an artist's work-room, fourth, a cooper's shop, and then the milk house and dairy. several houses of the same kind and construction are also built on the west and south sides; one contains coal for the blacksmith, and ten stables, in all ft. long, and ft. wide, with space enough to quarter fifty horses. these are very useful, as the company have always a number of horses and cattle here. these buildings, it will be understood, do not interfere with the area or parade of the fort, and are hardly noticed by a casual observer, but occupy the space under the balcony that would otherwise be useless and void. fifty more of the same kind could be put up without intruding upon any portion of the fort used for other purposes. on the front side, and west of the gate, is a house by feet, which, being divided into two parts, one half opening into the fort, is used as a blacksmith's, gunsmith's, and tinner's shop; the other part is used as a reception-room for indians, and opens into the passage, which is made by the double gate. there are two large outside gates to the fort, one each in the middle of the front and rear, and upon the top of the front one is a painting of a treaty of peace between the indians and whites executed by j. b. moncrévier, esq. these gates are ft. wide, and ft. high. at the front there is an inside gate of the same size at the inner end of the indian reception room, which shuts a passage from the outside gate of ft. in length, and the same width as the gate; the passage is formed of pickets. the outside gate can be left open, and the inside one closed, which permits the indians to enter the reception room without their having any communication with the fort. into this room are brought all trading and war parties, until such time as their business is ascertained; there is also behind this room a trade shop, and leading into it a window through which the indians usually trade, being secure from rain or accident; there is also another window through the pickets to the outside of the fort, which is used in trading when the indians are troublesome, or too numerous. the powder magazine is perhaps the best piece of work, as regards strength and security, that could be devised for a fort like this. the dimensions are by ft.; it is built out of stone, which is a variety of limestone with a considerable quantity of sand in its composition. the walls are ft. thick at the base, and increasing with the curve of the arch become gradually thicker as they rise, so that near the top they are about ft. in thickness. the inside presents a complete semicircular arch, which is covered on the top with stones and gravel to the depth of inches. the whole is covered with a shingle roof through which fire may burn yet with no danger to the powder within. there are two doors, one on the outside, the other a few feet within; the outer one is covered with tin. there are several other small buildings under the balcony, which are used for harness, tool-houses, meat, etc. the space behind the warehouse between that and the pickets, being free from buildings, affords a good horse yard, and some shelter to the horses in bad weather. the area of the fort within the fronts of the houses is ft. long, and ft. wide. in the centre of this arises a flag-staff ft. high. this is surrounded at the base by a railing and panel work in an octagonal form, enclosing a portion of ground ft. in diameter, in which are planted lettuce, radishes, and cress, and which presents at the same time a useful and handsome appearance. by the side of this stands a mounted four-pounder iron cannon. this flag-staff is the glory of the fort, for on high, seen from far and wide, floats the star spangled banner, an immense flag which once belonged to the united states navy, and gives the certainty of security from dangers, rest to the weary traveller, peace and plenty to the fatigued and hungry, whose eyes are gladdened by the sight of it on arriving from the long and perilous voyages usual in this far western wild. it is customary on the arrivals and departures of the bourgeois, or of the boats of gentlemen of note, to raise the flag, and by the firing of the cannon show them a welcome, or wish them a safe arrival at their point of destination. when interest and affection are as circumscribed as here, they must necessarily be more intense, and partings are more regretted, being accompanied by dangers to the departing friends, and meetings more cordial, those dangers having been surmounted. the casualties of the country are common to all, and felt the more by the handful, who, far from civilization, friends, or kindred, are associated in those risks and excitements which accrue from a life among savages. about two hundred feet east of fort union is an enclosure about ft. square, which is used for hay and other purposes. two hundred and fifty good cart-loads of hay are procured during the summer and stacked up in this place for winter use of horses and cattle, the winter being so severe and long, and snow so deep that little food is to be found for them on the prairies at that season. there are, at present, in this place thirty head of cattle, forty horses, besides colts, and a goodly number of hogs. a garden on a small scale is attached to the 'old fort' as it is called, which supplies the table with peas, turnips, radishes, lettuce, beets, onions, etc. the large garden, half a mile off and below the fort, contains one and a half acres, and produces most plentiful and excellent crops of potatoes, corn, and every kind of vegetable, but has not been worked this year. in the summer of , mr. culbertson had from it bushels of potatoes, and as many other vegetables as he required for the use of the fort. rainy seasons prove most favorable in this climate for vegetation, but they rarely occur. it is indeed pleasant to know that the enterprising men who commenced, and have continued with untiring perseverance, the enlargement of the indian trade, and labored hard for the subordination, if not civilization, of the indians, should occasionally sit down under their own vine and fig-tree, and enjoy at least the semblance of living like their more quiet, though not more useful brothers in the united states." fort mckenzie by alexander culbertson, esq. august , "the american fur company, whose untiring perseverance and enterprise have excited the wonder and admiration of many people, both in this and other countries, and who have already acquired a well-earned fame for their labors among the aborigines of this wilderness, and who are now an example of the energy of the american people, had, until the year , no stations among the blackfeet, piegans, blood indians, or gros ventres de prairie, these tribes being so hostile and bloodthirsty as to make the trading, or the erecting of a fort among them too dangerous to be attempted. at last, however, these dangers and difficulties were undertaken, commenced, and surmounted, and fort mckenzie was erected in the very heart of these tribes. the fort was begun in , under the superintendence of david d. mitchell, then one of the clerks of the company, now u.s. superintendent of indian affairs. the fort was completed by me, alexander culbertson, then a clerk of the company, now one of the partners. during the first year, owing to the exigencies of the occasion, a temporary, though substantial fort was erected, which, however, served to protect the daring few who undertook and accomplished the perilous task. to those who are quietly sitting by their firesides in the heart of civilized life, enjoying all its luxuries, pleasures, and comforts, and who are far removed from the prairie land and the red men, the situation of this party can hardly be pictured. they were surrounded by dangers of all kinds, but more especially from the tribes of indians before mentioned. two thousand lodges of blackfeet were near them, waiting only until an opportunity should offer to satisfy their thirst for blood, to fall upon and kill them. apart from this tribe the others were loitering around them for the same purpose; add to this, privations, fatigues, hardships, and personal ills which have to be encountered in a country like this. all, however, was met courageously; undaunted by appearances, unintimidated by threats, not unmanned by hardships and fatigues, they pushed ahead, completed the fort, and at last accomplished their object of establishing a trade with the tribes above mentioned; and they now enjoy a comparative peace, and are living upon fairly friendly terms with their late most violent enemies. during the following year another fort was commenced and completed, and retained its former name of fort mckenzie, being named after kenneth mckenzie, esq., one of the partners of the company. the fort is situated on the north side of the missouri, about six miles above the mouth of the maria, and about forty miles below the 'great falls' of the missouri, on a beautiful prairie, about fifteen feet above the highest-water mark, and about feet from the river. the prairie rises gradually from the water's edge to the hills in the rear, about half a mile from the river. it is about a mile long, terminating at a 'côte qui trompe de l'eau' on the lower end, and in a point at the upper end, formerly heavily covered with timber, but now entirely destitute. opposite the fort is a high perpendicular bank of black clay, rising from the river to the height of feet; from this all that takes place within the walls of the fort can be seen, which would seem to have rendered the placing of the fort in such a position extremely injudicious. but not through carelessness was this done; it is simply the _sole place_ in this section of country, near the river, where a fort can be built, as the land is so rough and uneven as to render the erection of a fort at any other spot _impossible_. from this bank little or no danger is apprehended, as the river is about one hundred yards wide, and a ball fired by the indians from this height, and at this distance, with the weapons that they have, would be incapable of doing any execution. timber in this country has become very scarce; points which a few years ago were covered with heavy forests of the different kinds of wood of the district have by some law of nature become entirely destitute, especially a point below the island called by the voyageurs the 'grand isle' (which is situated at the commencement of the mauvaises terres), where it has dwindled to a few scattering cottonwoods and box elders; and this is the only wood now to be found in this section of the country between 'grand isle' and the 'great falls' of the missouri. it is with the greatest difficulty and economy that from the little wood to be found the fort is supplied with the necessary fuel; this is dealt out as a ration, allowing a certain quantity to each room, sufficient, however, to do the cooking, and warm the inmates. _at all times,_ except when serving the ration, the wood is kept closely locked. this is one of the privations of the country, and, indeed the country affords very little which adds to the comfort of the trader who makes these wilds his home, except such as can be procured from the wild animals. three sides of the fort are built of pickets of hewn cottonwood, squared, placed close together, eighteen feet long, planted three feet deep in the earth, leaving fifteen feet above ground. the pickets are connected at the top by a strong piece pinned to them. the fourth side, facing the northeast, is built of pickets framed in wooden sills lying in the ground, similar to those at fort union. the fort is two hundred feet square, ranging north and south and facing south. on the northeast and southwest corners are bastions built of cottonwood timber, ball proof, rising about eight feet above the pickets, twenty feet square and divided into two stories. in each bastion is a cannon, loaded muskets, cartridges, balls, and every requisite necessary to prevent and repel any attack that may take place, and which is hourly expected, from the surrounding tribes of indians. in each bastion are port and loop holes for the cannon and muskets, and these command the four sides of pickets, and an extensive range over the prairie. along the rear line of pickets, and about twenty-five feet from them, is the principal range of buildings in the fort. these are occupied by the bourgeois, clerks, and interpreters. it is divided into three apartments; the principal room, with every comfort that this dreary place affords, belongs to the bourgeois and is twenty feet square; and here, to partially remove the _ennui_ of dull times, is a library of such books as time and opportunity have permitted the dwellers in the fort to collect; this is at the command of those who choose to 'drive dull care away,' and contains a little of everything, science, history, poetry, and fiction. adjoining this room is a hall or passage eight feet wide, running from front to rear of the building, with a door opening into the bourgeois's room, another opening into the clerk's room; the clerk's room is also used as a mess-room and is the same size as that of the bourgeois. adjoining the clerk's room is the one belonging to the interpreters; it is twenty-four by twenty feet and is also used as a council room, and reception room for the chiefs that may arrive at the fort. _the chiefs only_ are admitted within the walls; not that any danger is apprehended now from them, but to prevent any trouble that might possibly occur were numbers permitted to enter. the house is of cottonwood logs, with a plank roof covered with earth, chimneys of mud, two windows and doors in the bourgeois's room, one each in the other rooms. the interior is ceiled and walled with plank. in the bourgeois's room are two doors made of pine plank which was sawed in the rocky mountains. the house is by ft. most of the buildings in the fort are made in a similar manner. above the three rooms described is a garret extending the whole length of the building. about three feet back of this edifice is the kitchen, a neat building twenty feet square, in which everything belonging to this most important and useful apartment is to be found, always in good order, clean and bright, as it is the imperative duty of the cook, or person in charge, to have all connected with this department in perfect order. from this room _all_ persons are excluded, unless duty or business requires them to be there. adjoining this, on the same line north, is a house of the same dimensions as the kitchen, which is used for salting and preserving tongues, one of the delicacies of the civilized world; when not thus used it answers the purpose of a wash-house. in these buildings are bedrooms occupied by the persons having charge of these departments. extending along the west line of pickets, and about three feet from them, leaving a space between the range and the bourgeois's house is a line of buildings divided in four apartments; one used for a blacksmith's and tinner's shop, another for a carpenter's shop, one for the tailor, and the other for the men. in the square formed by the pickets and ends of the bourgeois's and men's houses, is a yard for sawing timber, a quantity of which is necessarily required about the fort. a house running from the south bastion to the passage, twenty-four feet square, is used as a reception room for war and trading parties; a door leads from this to the passage formed by the double gates, thereby cutting off all communication with the interior of the fort. in this room all parties are received by the interpreter, who is always ready to smoke and talk with the indians. next to this room is a passage formed by the double gates, and two parallel lines of pickets extending inwards, making the passage about thirty feet long and twelve wide; at the ends are two large gates, about twelve feet wide and the same height. opposite the room last described is a similar one by ft., in which the indians bring their robes to trade. next this is a trade store, where are kept goods, trinkets, etc., to be traded with the indians. the trading is done through a window or wicket two feet square, and a foot thick, strongly hinged to the picket; this opening is at the command of the trader, who can open or close it, as the indians may appear friendly or otherwise, thereby completely cutting off, if necessary, all communication between the indians and the trade store; and it is through this opening _only_ that trade is carried on. next this is a room twenty-four feet square, where all goods obtained from the indians are placed as soon as the trade is finished; and adjoining the trade shop is a room, between it and the pickets, about ten feet square, with a window and door opening into the trade shop, with a chimney, fireplace, and stove used only for warming the trader when off duty, or when awaiting the arrival of indians. along the east line of pickets, and about forty feet from them, is another range of buildings, about a hundred feet long and twenty deep, divided into five apartments. the first three are for storing packs of robes, furs, peltries, etc., and will hold eighteen hundred packs of robes; the fourth room is a retail store, by ft., in which is always a good assortment of stores, the prices fixed by a regular tariff, so no cheating is possible. all whites buy and sell here. fifth, is the wholesale warehouse, in which are boxes, bales, and all goods kept in quantity till required. within a few feet of this, and northeast, is the meat house, twenty-four feet square, in which all meat traded from the indians is kept till needed for use. near the meat house south is a powder magazine, a hole dug in the ground ten feet square, walled with timber to the surface, covered with a timber roof four feet above the surface in the centre, and this is covered to the depth of three feet with earth; in the roof is an outer door three feet square, opening upon another of the same size; this is so arranged that in case of fire the whole can be covered in a few minutes, and rendered fire-proof. in the southeast corner is a large barn, by ft., capable of containing sufficient hay for all the cattle and horses during the long, cold, tedious winters of this country. adjoining is a range of large and warm stables for the horses of the fort, and some extra ones if required, providing them with a good shelter from the piercing cold and severe storms. extending from the stables is a range of small buildings used for keeping saddlery, harness, boat-rigging, tools, etc., thereby providing 'a place for everything,' and it is required that everything shall be in its place. over this is a gallery extending along this line of pickets, answering the purposes of a promenade, observatory, guard station, and place of defence. in the southeast corner in front of the barn is a yard by ft., used for receiving carts, wagons, wood, and so forth. at the end of the yard in the rear of the dry-goods warehouse is an ice house, that will contain nearly forty loads of ice; meat placed here will keep several days in the heat of summer, and thus save the hunter from a daily ride over the burning prairies. the stock belonging to the fort consists of thirty to forty horses, ten or twelve cattle, and a number of hogs. fort mckenzie boasts of one of the most splendid durham bulls that can be found in the united states or territories. the area in front of the buildings is about a hundred feet square; from the centre rises a flag-staff fifty feet high; from this wave the glorious folds of the starry banner of our native land, made more beautiful by its situation in the dreary wilderness around it. the wanderer, as he sees the bright folds from afar, hails them with gladness, as it means for him a place of safety. no sight is more welcome to the voyageur, the hunter, or the trapper. that flag cheers all who claim it as theirs, and it protects all, white men or red. here in the wilderness all fly to it for refuge, and depend on it for security. upon the arrival or departure of the bourgeois, men of note, or arrival and departure of the boats, the flag is raised, and salutes fired. here, where but few are gathered together, undying attachments are formed, a unanimity of feeling exists, to be found perhaps only in similar situations. when the hour of parting comes it is with regret, for amid the common dangers, so well known, none know when the meeting again will be, and when the hour of meeting comes, the joy is honest and unfeigned that the dangers are safely surmounted. such is fort mckenzie, such are its inmates. removed as they are from civilization and its pleasures, home and friends, they find in each other friends and brothers: friends that forsake not in the hour of danger, but cling through all changes; brothers in feeling and action, and 'though there be many, in heart they are one.'" footnotes: [ ] "we halted for dinner at a village which we suppose to have belonged to the ricaras. it is situated in a low plain on the river, and consists of about eighty lodges of an octagon form, neatly covered with earth, placed as close to each other as possible, and picketed round." ("lewis and clark," ed. .) "the village of the rikaras, arickaras, or rikarees, for the name is variously written, is between the th and th parallels of north latitude, and , miles above the mouth of the missouri.... it was divided into two portions, about eighty yards apart, being inhabited by two distinct bands. the whole extended about three quarters of a mile along the river bank, and was composed of conical lodges, that looked like so many small hillocks, being wooden frames intertwined with osier, and covered with earth." ("astoria," w. irving.) "from the hills we had a fine prospect over the bend of the river, on which the villages of the arikkaras are situated. the two villages of this tribe are on the west bank, very near each other, but separated by a small stream. they consist of a great number of clay huts, round at top, with a square entrance in front, and the whole surrounded with a fence of stakes, which were much decayed and in many places thrown down." ("travels in north america," p. , maximilian, prince of wied.) [ ] "general ashley of missouri, a man whose courage and achievements in the prosecution of his enterprises had rendered him famous in the far west in conjunction with mr. [andrew?] henry, of the missouri trading co., established a post on the banks of the yellowstone river in ." ("capt. bonneville," w. irving.) [ ] "we reached the mouth of le boulet, or cannon ball river. this stream rises in the black mts. and falls into the missouri; its channel is about feet wide, though the water is now confined within ; its name is derived from the numbers of perfectly round stones on the shore and in the bluffs just above." ("lewis and clark," ed. .) "we came to an aperture in the chain of hills, from which this river, which was very high, issues. on the north side of the mouth there was a steep, yellow clay wall; and on the southern, a flat, covered with poplars and willows. this river has its name from the singular regular sandstone balls which are found in its banks, and in those of the missouri in its vicinity. they are of various sizes, from that of a musket ball to that of a large bomb, and lie irregularly on the bank, or in the strata, from which they often project to half their thickness; when the river has washed away the earth they then fall down, and are found in great numbers on the bank. many of them are rather elliptical, others are more flattened, others flat on one side and convex on the other. of the _perfectly spherical_ balls, i observed some two feet in diameter. a mile above the mouth of cannon ball river i saw no more of them." ("travels in north america," p. , maximilian, prince of wied.) [ ] present name of the stream which falls into the missouri from the east, about five miles below fort rice; chewah or fish river of lewis and clark; shewash river of maximilian. audubon is now approaching bismarck, the capital of north dakota.--e. c. [ ] charles primeau was born at st. louis, mo., entered the american fur company as clerk, and continued in that service many years. later he helped to form an opposition company under the name of harvey, primeau, & co., which did business for a few years, until, like most of the smaller concerns, it was absorbed by the american fur co. he then went back to his former employers, and afterward was engaged by the u.s. government as indian interpreter, long holding this position. in he was living in the vicinity of fort yates.--e. c. [ ] the "assiniboin" was the steamer on which maximilian, prince of wied, travelled down the missouri in . [ ] this is an interesting note of the early french name on the missouri of the persons about a boat whom we should call "stevedores," or "roustabouts." the french word _charette_, or _charrette_, occurs also as a personal name, and it will be remembered that there was a town of la charette on the lower missouri.--e. c. [ ] heart river, the stream which falls into the missouri near the town of mandan, about opposite bismarck, n. dak. here the river is now bridged by the northern pacific railroad, which crosses the missouri from bismarck, and follows up heart river for some distance.--e. c. [ ] "fort clark came in sight, with a background of the blue prairie hills, and with the gay american banner waving from the flag-staff.... the fort is built on a smaller scale, on a plan similar to that of all the other trading posts or forts of the company. immediately behind the fort there were, in the prairie, seventy leather tents of the crows." (prince of wied, p. .) fort clark stood on the right bank of the missouri, and thus across the river from the original fort mandan built by lewis and clark in the fall of . maximilian has much to say of it and of mr. kipp. [ ] this fox was probably the cross variety of the long-tailed prairie fox, _vulpes macrourus_ of baird, stansbury's exped. great salt lake, june, , p. ; _vulpes utah_ of aud. and bach. quad. n. am. iii., , p. , pl. (originally published by them in proc. acad. philad., july, , p. ).--e. c. [ ] no doubt the _mammillaria vivipara_, a small globose species, quite different from the common _opuntia_ or prickly pear of the missouri region.--e. c. [ ] the individual so designated was an important functionary in these villages, whose authority corresponded with that of our "chief of police," and was seldom if ever disputed.--e. c. [ ] "it rises to the west of the black mts., across the northern extremity of which it finds a narrow, rapid passage along high perpendicular banks, then seeks the missouri in a northeasterly direction, through a broken country with highlands bare of timber, and the low grounds particularly supplied with cottonwood, elm, small ash, box, alder, and an undergrowth of willow, red-wood, red-berry, and choke-cherry.... it enters the missouri with a bold current, and is yards wide, but its greatest depth is two feet and a half, which, joined to its rapidity and its sand-bars, makes the navigation difficult except for canoes." ("lewis and clark," ed. , pp. , .) "we came to a green spot at the mouth of the little missouri, which is reckoned to be miles from the mouth of the great missouri. the chain of blue hills, with the same singular forms as we had seen before, appeared on the other side of this river." ("travels in north america," prince of wied, p. .) [ ] at this time the account of the prince of wied had not been published in english; that translation appeared december, , two years after the german edition. [ ] this is the little knife, or upper knife river, to be carefully distinguished from that knife river at the mouth of which were the minnetaree villages. it falls into the missouri from the north, in mountraille co., miles above the mouth of the little missouri. this is probably the stream named goat-pen creek by lewis and clark: see p. of the edition of .--e. c. [ ] or white earth river of some maps, a comparatively small stream, eighteen and one half miles above the mouth of little knife river.--e. c. [ ] present name of the stream which flows into the missouri from the north, in buford co. this is the last considerable affluent below the mouth of the yellowstone, and the one which lewis and clark called white earth river, by mistake. see last note.--e. c. [ ] maximilian, prince of wied. [ ] this is a synonym of _spermophilus tridecem-lineatus_, the thirteen-lined, or federation sphermophile, the variety that is found about fort union being _s. t. pallidus_.--e. c. [ ] charles larpenteur, whose ms. autobiography i possess.--e. c. [ ] this is the first intimation we have of the discovery of the missouri titlark, which audubon dedicated to mr. sprague under the name of _alauda spragueii_, b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. . it is now well known as _anthus (neocorys) spraguei_.--e. c. [ ] here is the original indication of the curious flicker of the upper missouri region, which audubon named _picus ayresii_, b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. , after w. o. ayres. it is the _colaptes hybridus_ of baird, and the _c. aurato-mexicanus_ of hartlaub; in which the specific characters of the golden-winged and red-shafted flickers are mixed and obscured in every conceivable degree. we presently find audubon puzzled by the curious birds, whose peculiarities have never been satisfactorily explained.--e. c. [ ] the fact that the _antilocapra americana_ does shed its horns was not satisfactorily established till several years after . it was first brought to the notice of naturalists by dr. c. a. canfield of california, april , , and soon afterward became generally known. (see proc. zoöl. soc. lond. , p. , and , p. .) thereupon it became evident that, as audubon says, these animals are not true antelopes, and the family _antilocapridæ_ was established for their reception. on the whole subject see article in encycl. amer. i., , pp. - , figs. - .--e. c. [ ] that the account given by audubon is not exaggerated may be seen from the two accounts following; the first from lewis and clark, the second from the prince of wied:-- "the ancient maha village had once consisted of cabins, but was burnt about four years ago ( ), soon after the small-pox had destroyed four hundred men, and a proportion of women and children.... the accounts we have had of the effects of the small-pox are most distressing; ... when these warriors saw their strength wasting before a malady which they could not resist, their frenzy was extreme; they burnt their village, and many of them put to death their wives and children, to save them from so cruel an affliction, and that they might go together to some better country." "new orleans, june , . we have from the trading posts on the western frontier of missouri the most frightful accounts of the ravages of small-pox among the indians.... the number of victims within a few months is estimated at , , and the pestilence is still spreading.... the small-pox was communicated to the indians by a person who was on board the steamboat which went last summer to the mouth of the yellowstone, to convey both the government presents for the indians, and the goods for the barter trade of the fur-dealers.... the officers gave notice of it to the indians, and exerted themselves to the utmost to prevent any intercourse between them and the vessel; but this was a vain attempt.... the disease first broke out about the th of june, , in the village of the mandans, from which it spread in all directions with unexampled fury.... among the remotest tribes of the assiniboins from fifty to one hundred died daily.... the ravages of the disorder were most frightful among the mandans. that once powerful tribe was exterminated, with the exception of thirty persons. their neighbors, the gros ventres and the riccarees, were out on a hunting excursion at the time the disorder broke out, so that it did not reach them till a month later; yet half the tribe were destroyed by october . very few of those who were attacked recovered.... many put an end to their lives with knives or muskets, or by precipitating themselves from the summit of the rock near the settlement. the prairie all around is a vast field of death, covered with unburied corpses. the gros ventres and the riccarees, lately amounting to , souls, were reduced to less than one half. the assiniboins, , in number, are nearly exterminated. they, as well as the crows and blackfeet, endeavored to fly in all directions; but the disease pursued them.... the accounts of the blackfeet are awful. the inmates of above , of their tents are already swept away. no language can picture the scene of desolation which the country presents. the above does not complete the terrible intelligence which we receive.... according to the most recent accounts, the number of indians who have been swept away by the small-pox, on the western frontier of the united states, amounts to more than , ." [ ] _quiscalus brewerii_ of audubon, b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. , now known as _scolecophagus cyanocephalus_. it was new to our fauna when thus dedicated by audubon to his friend dr. thomas m. brewer of boston, but had already been described by wagler from mexico as _psarocolius cyanocephalus_. it is an abundant bird in the west, where it replaces its near ally, _scolecophagus carolinus_.--e. c. [ ] this is no doubt the _lepus artemisia_ of bachman, journ. philad. acad. viii., , p. , later described and figured by aud. and bach., quad. n. am. ii., , p. , pl. . it is now generally rated as a subspecies of the common cottontail, _l. sylvaticus_. compare also _l. nuttalli_, aud. and bach. ii., , p. , pl. .--e. c. [ ] this is the same hybrid woodpecker which has been already noted on p. .--e. c. [ ] that is, the chestnut-collared longspur, _calcarius ornatus_, which mr. bell was mistaken in supposing to breed in holes of the ground squirrels, or spermophiles, as it nests on the open ground, like sprague's lark, mccown's longspur, and most other small birds of the western plains. but the surmise regarding the nesting of say's flycatcher is correct. this is a near relative of the common pewit flycatcher, _s. phoebe_, and its nesting places are similar.--e. c. [ ] this passage shows that audubon observed individuals of the hybrid woodpecker which he considered identical with _colaptes cafer_, and also others which he regarded as belonging to the supposed new species--his _c. ayresii_.--e. c. [ ] the usual title or designation of the chief trader or person in charge of any establishment of a fur company.--e. c. [ ] "the black-tailed deer never runs at full speed, but bounds with every foot from the ground at the same time, like the mule-deer." ("lewis and clark," ed. .) [ ] the above is a very good example of the way these woodpeckers vary in color, presenting a case which, as audubon justly observes, is a "puzzle to all the naturalists in the world." see note, p. .--e. c. [ ] _vulpes utah_ of aud. and bach., quad. n. am. iii., , p. , pl. , or _v. macrourus_ of baird, as already noted. this is the western variety of the common red fox, now usually called _vulpes fulvus macrourus_.--e. c. [ ] among the "birds shot yesterday," july , when audubon was too full of his buffalo hunt to notice them in his journal, were two, a male and a female, killed by mr. bell, which turned out to be new to science. for these were no other than baird's bunting, _emberiza bairdii_ of audubon, b. amer, vii., , p. , pl. . audubon there says it was "during one of our buffalo hunts, on the th july, ," and adds: "i have named this species after my young friend spencer f. baird, of carlisle, pennsylvania." special interest attaches to this case; for the bird was not only the first one ever dedicated to baird, but the last one ever named, described, and figured by audubon; and the plate of it completes the series of exactly plates which the octavo edition of the "birds of america" contains. this bird became the _centronyx bairdii_ of baird, the _passerculus bairdi_ of coues, and the _ammodramus bairdi_ of some other ornithologists. see "birds of the colorado valley," i., , p. . one of audubon's specimens shot this day is catalogued in baird's birds of n. am., , p. .--e. c. [ ] see bell's account of the trip, page . [ ] nuttall's poor-will, now known as _phalænoptilus nuttalli_, which has a two-syllabled note, rendered "oh-will" in the text beyond.--e. c. [ ] a _parflèche_ is a hide, usually a buffalo bull's, denuded of hair, dressed and stretched to the desired shape. all articles made from this hide are also called parflèche, such as wallets, pouches, etc. [ ] niobrara river; for which, and for others here named, see the previous note, date of may . [ ] on the south side of the missouri, in present nebraska, a short distance above the mouth of the big sioux. this small stream is roloje creek of lewis and clark, ayoway river of nicollet, appearing by error as "norway" and "nioway" creek on general land office maps.--e. c. [ ] j. h. k. burgwin. see a previous note, date of may . [ ] of maine; in a second lieutenant of the first dragoons. he rose during the civil war to be lieutenant-colonel of the fourth cavalry, and brevet major-general of volunteers; died jan. , . [ ] _branta hutchinsi._ [ ] audubon's daughter-in-law, mrs. v. g. audubon, writes: "he returned on the th of november, . it was a bright day, and the whole family, with his old friend captain cummings, were on the piazza waiting for the carriage to come from harlem [then the only way of reaching new york by rail] there were two roads, and hearing wheels, some ran one way and some another, each hoping to be the first to see him; but he had left the carriage at the top of the hill, and came on foot straight down the steepest part, so that those who remained on the piazza had his first kiss. he kissed his sons as well as the ladies of the party. he had on a green blanket coat with fur collar and cuffs; his hair and beard were very long, and he made a fine and striking appearance. in this dress his son john painted his portrait." [ ] see page . [ ] these extracts, as well as the descriptions by mr. denig and mr. culbertson, of forts union and mckenzie, which follow, are in audubon's writing, at the end of one of the missouri river journals, and are given as descriptions of the life and habitations of those early western pioneers and fur-traders. episodes[ ] these episodes were introduced in the letterpress of the first three volumes of the "ornithological biographies," but are not in the octavo edition of the "birds of america," and i believe no entire reprint of them has been made before. so far as possible they have been arranged chronologically. louisville, in kentucky. . the ohio. . fishing in the ohio. . a wild horse. . breaking up of the ice. . the prairie. . the regulators. the earthquake. . the hurricane. . colonel boone. . natchez in . the lost portfolio. . the original painter. . the cougar. . the runaway. . a tough walk for a youth. . hospitality in the woods. . niagara. . meadville. . the burning of the forests. . a long calm at sea. . still becalmed. . great egg harbor. . the great pine swamp. . the lost one. . the live-oakers. . spring garden. . death of a pirate. . wreckers of florida. . st. john's river, in florida. . the florida keys, no. . . the florida keys, no. . . the turtlers. . the form of the waters. . journey in new brunswick and maine. . a moose hunt. . labrador. . the eggers of labrador. . the squatters of labrador. . cod-fishing. . a ball in newfoundland. . the bay of fundy. . a flood. the squatters of the mississippi. improvements in the navigation of the mississippi. kentucky sports. the traveller and the pole-cat. deer-hunting. the eccentric naturalist. scipio and the bear. a kentucky barbecue. a raccoon hunt in kentucky. the pitting of wolves. the opossum. a maple-sugar camp. the white perch. the american sun-perch. my style of drawing birds. footnote: [ ] one episode has been added,--"my style of drawing birds,"--and three have been omitted, that on bewick being in the "journal of england and france," and the others not of general interest. episodes louisville in kentucky louisville in kentucky has always been a favorite place of mine. the beauty of its situation on the banks of _la belle rivière_, just at the commencement of the famed rapids, commonly called the falls of the ohio, had attracted my notice, and when i removed to it, immediately after my marriage, i found it more agreeable than ever. the prospect from the town is such that it would please even the eye of a swiss. it extends along the river for seven or eight miles, and is bounded on the opposite side by a fine range of low mountains, known by the name of the silver hills. the rumbling sound of the waters as they tumble over the rock-paved bed of the rapids is at all times soothing to the ear. fish and game are abundant. but, above all, the generous hospitality of the inhabitants, and the urbanity of their manners, had induced me to fix upon it as a place of residence; and i did so with the more pleasure when i found that my wife was as much gratified as myself by the kind attentions which were shown to us, utter strangers as we were, on our arrival. no sooner had we landed, and made known our intention of remaining, than we were introduced to the principal inhabitants of the place and its vicinity, although we had not brought a single letter of introduction, and could not but see, from their unremitting kindness, that the virginian spirit of hospitality displayed itself in all the words and actions of our newly formed friends. i wish here to name those persons who so unexpectedly came forward to render our stay among them agreeable, but feel at a loss with whom to begin, so equally deserving are they of our gratitude. the croghans, the clarks (our great traveller included), the berthouds, the galts, the maupins, the tarascons, the beals, and the booths, form but a small portion of the long list which i could give. the matrons acted like mothers to my wife, the daughters proved agreeable associates, and the husbands and sons were friends and companions to me. if i absented myself on business, or otherwise, for any length of time, my wife was removed to the hospitable abode of some friend in the neighborhood until my return, and then, kind reader, i was several times obliged to spend a week or more with these good people before they could be prevailed upon to let us return to our own residence. we lived for two years at louisville, where we enjoyed many of the best pleasures which this life can afford; and whenever we have since chanced to pass that way, we have found the kindness of our former friends unimpaired. during my residence at louisville, much of my time was employed in my ever favorite pursuits. i drew and noted the habits of everything which i procured, and my collection was daily augmenting, as every individual who carried a gun always sent me such birds or quadrupeds as he thought might prove useful to me. my portfolios already contained upwards of two hundred drawings. dr. w. c. galt being a botanist, was often consulted by me, as well as his friend, dr. ferguson. mr. gilly drew beautifully, and was fond of my pursuits. so was my friend, and now relative, n. berthoud. as i have already said, our time was spent in the most agreeable manner, through the hospitable friendship of our acquaintance. one fair morning i was surprised by the sudden entrance into our counting-room of mr. alexander wilson, the celebrated author of the "american ornithology," of whose existence i had never until that moment been apprised. this happened in march, . how well do i remember him, as he walked up to me! his long, rather hooked nose, the keenness of his eyes, and his prominent cheek bones, stamped his countenance with a peculiar character. his dress, too, was of a kind not usually seen in that part of the country,--a short coat, trousers, and a waistcoat of gray cloth. his stature was not above the middle size. he had two volumes under his arm, and as he approached the table at which i was working, i thought i discovered something like astonishment in his countenance. he, however, immediately proceeded to disclose the object of his visit, which was to procure subscriptions for his work. he opened his books, explained the nature of his occupations, and requested my patronage. i felt surprised and gratified at the sight of his volumes, turned over a few of the plates, and had already taken a pen to write my name in his favor, when my partner, rather abruptly, said to me in french, "my dear audubon, what induces you to subscribe to this work? your drawings are certainly far better, and again, you must know as much of the habits of american birds as this gentlemen." whether mr. wilson understood french or not, or if the suddenness with which i paused disappointed him, i cannot tell; but i clearly perceived he was not pleased. vanity and the encomiums of my friend prevented me from subscribing. mr. wilson asked me if i had many drawings of birds. i rose, took down a large portfolio, laid it on the table, and showed him, as i would show you, kind reader, or any other person fond of such subjects, the whole of the contents, with the same patience with which he had shown me his own engravings. his surprise appeared great, as he told me he never had the most distant idea that any other individual than himself had been engaged in forming such a collection. he asked me if it was my intention to publish, and when i answered in the negative, his surprise seemed to increase. and, truly, such was not my intention; for until long after, when i meet the prince of musignano in philadelphia, i had not the least idea of presenting the fruits of my labors to the world. mr. wilson now examined my drawings with care, asked if i should have any objections to lending him a few during his stay, to which i replied that i had none; he then bade me good-morning, not, however, until i had made an arrangement to explore the woods in the vicinity with him, and had promised to procure for him some birds of which i had drawings in my collection, but which he had never seen. it happened that he lodged in the same house with us, but his retired habits, i thought, exhibited either a strong feeling of discontent or a decided melancholy. the scotch airs which he played sweetly on his flute made me melancholy too, and i felt for him. i presented him to my wife and friends, and seeing that he was all enthusiasm, exerted myself as much as was in my power to procure for him the specimens which he wanted. we hunted together, and obtained birds which he had never before seen; but, reader, i did not subscribe to his work, for, even at that time, my collection was greater than his. thinking that perhaps he might be pleased to publish the results of my researches, i offered them to him, merely on condition that what i had drawn, or might afterwards draw and send to him, should be mentioned in his work as coming from my pencil. i, at the same time, offered to open a correspondence with him, which i thought might prove beneficial to us both. he made no reply to either proposal, and before many days had elapsed, left louisville, on his way to new orleans, little knowing how much his talents were appreciated in our little town, at least by myself and my friends. some time elapsed, during which i never heard of him, or of his work. at length, having occasion to go to philadelphia, i, immediately after my arrival there, inquired for him, and paid him a visit. he was then drawing a white-headed eagle. he received me with civility, and took me to the exhibition rooms of rembrandt peale, the artist, who had then portrayed napoleon crossing the alps. mr. wilson spoke not of birds nor drawings. feeling, as i was forced to do, that my company was not agreeable, i parted from him; and after that i never saw him again. but judge of my astonishment sometime after, when, on reading the thirty-ninth page of the ninth volume of "american ornithology," i found in it the following paragraph:-- "_march , ._ i bade adieu to louisville, to which place i had four letters of recommendation, and was taught to expect much of everything there; but neither received one act of civility from those to whom i was recommended, one subscriber nor one new bird; though i delivered my letters, ransacked the woods repeatedly, and visited all the characters likely to subscribe. science or literature has not one friend in this place." the ohio when my wife, my eldest son (then an infant), and myself were returning from pennsylvania to kentucky, we found it expedient, the waters being unusually low, to provide ourselves with a _skiff_, to enable us to proceed to our abode at henderson. i purchased a large, commodious, and light boat of that denomination. we procured a mattress, and our friends furnished us with ready prepared viands. we had two stout negro rowers, and in this trim we left the village of shippingport, in expectation of reaching the place of our destination in a very few days. it was in the month of october. the autumnal tints already decorated the shores of that queen of rivers, the ohio. every tree was hung with long and flowing festoons of different species of vines, many loaded with clustered fruits of varied brilliancy, their rich bronzed carmine mingling beautifully with the yellow foliage, which now predominated over the yet green leaves, reflecting more lively tints from the clear stream than ever landscape painter portrayed, or poet imagined. the days were yet warm. the sun had assumed the rich and glowing hue which at that season produces the singular phenomenon called there the "indian summer." the moon had rather passed the meridian of her grandeur. we glided down the river, meeting no other ripple of the water than that formed by the propulsion of our boat. leisurely we moved along, gazing all day on the grandeur and beauty of the wild scenery around us. now and then a large catfish rose to the surface of the water, in pursuit of a shoal of fry, which, starting simultaneously from the liquid element like so many silver arrows, produced a shower of light, while the pursuer with open jaws seized the stragglers, and, with a splash of his tail, disappeared from our view. other fishes we heard, uttering beneath our bark a rumbling noise, the strange sound of which we discovered to proceed from the white perch, for on casting our net from the bow, we caught several of that species, when the noise ceased for a time. nature, in her varied arrangements, seems to have felt a partiality towards this portion of our country. as the traveller ascends or descends the ohio, he cannot help remarking that alternately, nearly the whole length of the river, the margin, on one side, is bounded by lofty hills and a rolling surface, while on the other, extensive plains of the richest alluvial land are seen as far as the eye can command the view. islands of varied size and form rise here and there from the bosom of the water, and the winding course of the stream frequently brings you to places where the idea of being on a river of great length changes to that of floating on a lake of moderate extent. some of these islands are of considerable size and value; while others, small and insignificant, seem as if intended for contrast, and as serving to enhance the general interest of the scenery. these little islands are frequently overflowed during great freshets or floods, and receive at their heads prodigious heaps of drifted timber. we foresaw with great concern the alterations that cultivation would soon produce along those delightful banks. as night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions of the river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and wandered far beyond the present moments. the tinkling of bells told us that the cattle which bore them were gently roving from valley to valley in search of food, or returning to their distant homes. the hooting of the great owl, or the muffled noise of its wings, as it sailed smoothly over the stream, were matters of interest to us; so was the sound of the boatman's horn, as it came winding more and more softly from afar. when daylight returned, many songsters burst forth with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving note of commencing civilization. the crossing of the stream by a deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered with snow. many sluggish flatboats we overtook and passed; some laden with produce from the different head-waters of the small rivers that pour their tributary streams into the ohio; others, of less dimensions, crowded with emigrants from distant parts, in search of a new home. purer pleasures i never felt; nor have you, reader, i ween, unless indeed you have felt the like, and in such company. the margins of the shores and of the river were, at this season, amply supplied with game. a wild turkey, a grouse, or a blue-winged teal, could be procured in a few moments; and we fared well, for, whenever we pleased we landed, struck up a fire, and provided as we were with the necessary utensils, procured a good repast. several of these happy days passed, and we neared our home, when, one evening, not far from pigeon creek (a small stream which runs into the ohio from the state of indiana), a loud and strange noise was heard, so like the yells of indian warfare, that we pulled at our oars, and made for the opposite side as fast and as quietly a possible. the sounds increased, we imagined we heard cries of "murder;" and as we knew that some depredations had lately been committed in the country by dissatisfied parties of aborigines, we felt for a while extremely uncomfortable. ere long, however, our minds became more calmed, and we plainly discovered that the singular uproar was produced by an enthusiastic set of methodists, who had wandered thus far out of the common way for the purpose of holding one of their annual camp-meetings, under the shade of a beech forest. without meeting with any other interruption, we reached henderson, distant from shippingport, by water, about two hundred miles. when i think of these times,[ ] and call back to my mind the grandeur and beauty of those almost uninhabited shores; when i picture to myself the dense and lofty summits of the forests, that everywhere spread along the hills and overhung the margins of the stream, unmolested by the axe of the settler; when i know how dearly purchased the safe navigation of that river has been, by the blood of many worthy virginians; when i see that no longer any aborigines are to be found there, and that the vast herds of elk, deer, and buffaloes which once pastured on these hills, and in these valleys, making for themselves great roads to the several salt-springs, have ceased to exist; when i reflect that all this grand portion of our union, instead of being in a state of nature, is now more or less covered with villages, farms, and towns, where the din of hammers and machinery is constantly heard; that the woods are fast disappearing under the axe by day, and the fire by night; that hundreds of steamboats are gliding to and fro, over the whole length of the majestic river, forcing commerce to take root and to prosper at every spot; when i see the surplus population of europe coming to assist in the destruction of the forest, and transplanting civilization into its darkest recesses; when i remember that these extraordinary changes have all taken place in the short period of twenty years, i pause, wonder, and although i know all to be fact, can scarcely believe its reality. whether these changes are for the better or for the worse, i shall not pretend to say; but in whatever way my conclusions may incline, i feel with regret that there are on record no satisfactory accounts of the state of that portion of the country, from the time when our people first settled in it. this has not been because no one in america is able to accomplish such an undertaking. our irvings and our coopers have proved themselves fully competent for the task. it has more probably been because the changes have succeeded each other with such rapidity as almost to rival the movements of their pens. however, it is not too late yet; and i sincerely hope that either or both of them will ere long furnish the generations to come with those delightful descriptions which they are so well qualified to give, of the original state of a country that has been so rapidly forced to change her form and attire under the influence of increasing population. yes, i hope to read, ere i close my earthly career, accounts from those delightful writers of the progress of civilization in our western country. they will speak of the clarks, the croghans, the boones, and many other men of great and daring enterprise. they will analyze, as it were, into each component part, the country as it once existed, and will render the picture, as it ought to be, immortal. fishing in the ohio it is with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that i recall to my mind the many pleasant days i have spent on the shores of the ohio. the visions of former years crowd on my view, as i picture to myself the fertile soil and genial atmosphere of our great western garden, kentucky, and view the placid waters of the fair stream that flows along its western boundary. methinks i am now on the banks of the noble river. twenty years of my life have returned to me; my sinews are strong, and the "bowspring of my spirit is not slack;" bright visions of the future float before me, as i sit on a grassy bank, gazing on the glittering waters. around me are dense forests of lofty trees and thickly tangled undergrowth, amid which are heard the songs of feathered choristers, and from whose boughs hang clusters of glowing fruits and beautiful flowers. reader, i am very happy. but now the dream has vanished, and here i am in the british athens, penning an episode for my ornithological biography, and having before me sundry well-thumbed and weather-beaten folios, from which i expect to be able to extract some interesting particulars respecting the methods employed in those days in catching catfish. but before entering on my subject i will present you with a brief description of the place of my residence on the banks of the ohio. when i first landed at henderson in kentucky, my family, like the village, was quite small. the latter consisted of six or eight houses, the former of my wife, myself, and a young child. few as the houses were, we fortunately found one empty. it was a log _cabin_, not a log _house_; but as better could not be had, we were pleased. well, then, we were located. the country around was thinly peopled, and all purchasable provisions rather scarce; but our neighbors were friendly, and we had brought with us flour and bacon-hams. our pleasures were those of young people not long married, and full of life and merriment; a single smile from our infant was, i assure you, more valued by us than all the treasure of a modern croesus would have been. the woods were amply stocked with game, the river with fish; and now and then the hoarded sweets of the industrious bees were brought from some hollow tree to our little table. our child's cradle was our richest piece of furniture, our guns and fishing-lines our most serviceable implements, for although we began to cultivate a garden, the rankness of the soil kept the seeds we planted far beneath the tall weeds that sprung up the first year. i had then a partner, a "man of business," and there was also with me a kentucky youth, who much preferred the sports of the forest and river to either day-book or ledger. he was naturally, as i may say, a good woodsman, hunter, and angler, and, like me, thought chiefly of procuring supplies of fish and fowl. to the task accordingly we directed all our energies. quantity as well as quality was an object with us, and although we well knew that three species of catfish existed in the ohio, and that all were sufficiently good, we were not sure as to the best method of securing them. we determined, however, to work on a large scale, and immediately commenced making a famous "trot-line." now, reader, as you may probably know nothing about this engine, i shall describe it to you. a trot-line is one of considerable length and thickness, both qualities, however, varying according to the extent of water, and the size of the fish you expect to catch. as the ohio, at henderson, is rather more than half a mile in breadth, and as catfishes weigh from one to an hundred pounds, we manufactured a line which measured about two hundred yards in length, as thick as the little finger of some fair one yet in her teens, and as white as the damsel's finger well could be, for it was wholly of kentucky cotton, just, let me tell you, because that substance stands the water better than either hemp or flax. the main line finished, we made a hundred smaller ones, about five feet in length, to each of which we fastened a capital hook of kirby and co.'s manufacture. now for the bait! it was the month of may. nature had brought abroad myriads of living beings; they covered the earth, glided through the water, and swarmed in the air. the catfish is a voracious creature, not at all nice in feeding, but one who, like the vulture, contents himself with carrion when nothing better can be had. a few experiments proved to us that, of the dainties with which we tried to allure them to our hooks, they gave a decided preference, at that season, to _live toads_. these animals were very abundant about henderson. they ramble or feed, whether by instinct or reason, during early or late twilight more than at any other time, especially after a shower, and are unable to bear the heat of the sun's rays for several hours before and after noon. we have a good number of these crawling things in america, particularly in the western and southern parts of the union, and are very well supplied with frogs, snakes, lizards, and even crocodiles, which we call alligators; but there is enough of food for them all, and we generally suffer them to creep about, to leap or to flounder as they please, or in accordance with the habits which have been given them by the great conductor of all. during the month of may, and indeed until autumn, we found an abundant supply of toads. many "fine ladies," no doubt, would have swooned, or at least screamed and gone into hysterics, had they seen one of our baskets filled with these animals, all alive and plump. fortunately we had no tragedy queen or sentimental spinster at henderson. our kentucky ladies mind their own affairs, and seldom meddle with those of others farther than to do all they can for their comfort. the toads, collected one by one, and brought home in baskets, were deposited in a barrel for use. and now that night is over, and as it is the first trial we are going to give our trot-line, just watch our movements from that high bank beside the stream. there sit down under the large cotton-wood tree. you are in no danger of catching cold at this season. my assistant follows me with a gaff hook, while i carry the paddle of our canoe; a boy bears on his back a hundred toads as good as ever hopped. our line--oh, i forgot to inform you that we had set it last night, but without the small ones you now see on my arm. fastening one end to yon sycamore, we paddled our canoe, with the rest nicely coiled in the stern, and soon reached its extremity, when i threw over the side the heavy stone fastened to it as a sinker. all this was done that it might be thoroughly soaked, and without kinks or snarls in the morning. now, you observe, we launch our light bark, the toads in the basket are placed next to my feet in the bow; i have the small lines across my knees already looped at the end. nat, with the paddle, and assisted by the current, keeps the stern of our boat directly down stream; and david fixes by the skin of the back and hind parts, the living bait to the hook. i hold the main line all the while, and now, having fixed one linelet to it, over goes the latter. can you see the poor toad kicking and flouncing in the water? "no?"--well, i do. you observe at length that all the lines, one after another, have been fixed, baited, and dropped. we now return swiftly to the shore. "what a delightful thing is fishing!" have i more than once heard some knowing angler exclaim, who, with "the patience of job," stands or slowly moves along some rivulet twenty feet wide, and three or four feet deep, with a sham fly to allure a trout, which, when at length caught, weighs half a pound. reader, i never had such patience. although i have waited ten years, and yet see only three-fourths of the "birds of america" engraved, although some of the drawings of that work were patiently made so long ago as , and although i have to wait with patience two years more before i see the end of it, i never could hold a line or a rod for many minutes, unless i had--not a "nibble" but a hearty bite, and could throw the fish at once over my head on the ground. no, no--if i fish for trout, i must soon give up, or catch as i have done in pennsylvania's lehigh, or the streams of maine, fifty or more in a couple of hours. but the trot-line is in the river, and there _it_ may patiently wait, until i visit it towards night. now i take up my gun and note-book, and accompanied by my dog, intend to ramble through the woods until breakfast. who knows but i may shoot a turkey or a deer? it is barely four o'clock, and see what delightful mornings we have at this season in kentucky! evening has returned. the heavens have already opened their twinkling eyes, although the orb of day has yet scarcely withdrawn itself from our view. how calm is the air! the nocturnal insects and quadrupeds are abroad; the bear is moving through the dark cane-brake, the land crows are flying towards their roosts, their aquatic brethren towards the interior of the forests, the squirrel is barking his adieu, and the barred owl glides silently and swiftly from his retreat to seize upon the gay and noisy animal. the boat is pushed off from the shore; the main line is in my hands; now it shakes, surely some fish have been hooked. hand over hand i proceed to the first hook. nothing there! but now i feel several jerks, stronger and more frequent than before. several hooks i pass; but see, what a fine catfish is twisting round and round the little line to which he is fast! nat, look to your gaff--hook him close to the tail. keep it up, my dear fellow!--there now, we have him. more are on, and we proceed. when we have reached the end many goodly fishes are lying in the bottom of our skiff. new bait has been put on, and, as we return, i congratulate myself and my companions on the success of our efforts; for there lies fish enough for ourselves and our neighbors. a trot-line at this period was perfectly safe at henderson, should i have allowed it to remain for weeks at a time. the navigation was mostly performed by flat-bottomed boats, which during calm nights floated in the middle current of the river, so that the people on board could not observe the fish that had been hooked. not a single steamer had as yet ever gone down the ohio; now and then, it is true, a barge or a keel-boat was propelled by poles and oars, but the nature of the river is such at that place, that these boats when ascending were obliged to keep near the indiana shore, until above the landing of the village (below which i always fixed my lines), when they pulled across the stream. several species or varieties of catfish are found in the ohio, namely, the blue, the white, and the mud cats, which differ considerably in their form and color, as well as in their habits. the mud cat is the best, although it seldom attains so great a size as the rest. the blue cat is the coarsest, but when not exceeding from four to six pounds it affords tolerable eating. the white cat is preferable to the last, but not so common; and the yellow mud cat is the best and rarest. of the blue kind some have been caught that weighed a hundred pounds. such fish, however, are looked upon as monsters. the form in all the varieties inclines to the conical, the head being disproportionately large, while the body tapers away to the root of the tail. the eyes, which are small, are placed far apart, and situated as it were on the top of the forehead, but laterally. their mouth is wide and armed with numerous small and very sharp teeth, while it is defended by single-sided spines, which, when the fish is in the agonies of death, stand out at right angles, and are so firmly fixed as sometimes to break before you can loosen them. the catfish has also feelers of proportionate length, apparently intended to guide its motions over the bottom, whilst its eyes are watching the objects passing above. trot-lines cannot be used with much success unless during the middle stages of the water. when very low, it is too clear, and the fish, although extremely voracious, will rarely risk its life for a toad. when the waters are rising rapidly, your trot-lines are likely to be carried away by one of the numerous trees that float in the stream. a "happy medium" is therefore best. when the waters are rising fast and have become muddy, a single line is used for catching catfish. it is fastened to the elastic branch of some willow several feet above the water, and must be twenty or thirty feet in length. the entrails of a wild turkey, or a piece of fresh venison furnish good bait; and if, when you visit your line the next morning after you have set it, the water has not risen too much, the swinging of the willow indicates that a fish has been hooked, and you have only to haul the prize ashore. one evening i saw that the river was rising at a great rate, although it was still within its banks. i knew that the white perch were running, that is, ascending the river from the sea, and, anxious to have a tasting of that fine fish, i baited a line with a crayfish, and fastened it to the bough of a tree. next morning as i pulled in the line, it felt as if fast at the bottom, yet on drawing it slowly i found that it came. presently i felt a strong pull, the line slipped through my fingers, and next instant a large catfish leaped out of the water. i played it for a while until it became exhausted, when i drew it ashore. it had swallowed the hook, and i cut off the line close to its head. then passing a stick through one of the gills, i and a servant tugged the fish home. on cutting it open, we, to our surprise, found in its stomach a fine white perch, dead, but not in the least injured. the perch had been lightly hooked, and the catfish, after swallowing it, had been hooked in the stomach, so that, although the instrument was small, the torture caused by it no doubt tended to disable the catfish. the perch we ate, and the cat, which was fine, we divided into four parts, and distributed among our neighbors. my most worthy friend and relative, nicholas berthoud, esq., who formerly resided at shippingport in kentucky, but now in new york, a better fisher than whom i never knew, once placed a trot-line in the basin below "tarascon's mills," at the foot of the rapids of the ohio. i cannot recollect the bait which was used; but on taking up the line we obtained a remarkably fine catfish, in which was found the greater part of a sucking pig. i may here add that i have introduced a figure of the catfish in plate xxxi. of the first volume of my illustrations, in which i have represented the white-headed eagle. a wild horse while residing at henderson in kentucky, i became acquainted with a gentleman who had just returned from the country in the neighborhood of the head-waters of the arkansas river, where he had purchased a newly caught "wild horse," a descendant of some of the horses originally brought from spain, and set at liberty in the vast prairies of the mexican lands. the animal was by no means handsome; he had a large head, with a considerable prominence in its frontal region, his thick and unkempt mane hung along his neck to the breast, and his tail, too scanty to be called flowing, almost reached the ground. but his chest was broad, his legs clean and sinewy, and his eyes and nostrils indicated spirit, vigor, and endurance. he had never been shod, and although he had been ridden hard, and had performed a long journey, his black hoofs had suffered no damage. his color inclined to bay, the legs of a deeper tint, and gradually darkening below until they became nearly black. i inquired what might be the value of such an animal among the osage indians, and was answered that, the horse being only four years old, he had given for him, with the tree and the buffalo-tug fastened to his head, articles equivalent to about thirty-five dollars. the gentleman added that he had never mounted a better horse, and had very little doubt that, if well fed, he could carry a man of ordinary weight from thirty-five to forty miles a day for a month, as he had travelled at that rate upon him, without giving him any other food than the grass of the prairies, or the canes of the bottom lands, until he had crossed the mississippi at natchez, when he fed him with corn. having no farther use for him, now that he had ended his journey, he said he was anxious to sell him, and thought he might prove a good hunting-horse for me, as his gaits were easy, and he stood fire as well as any charger he had seen. having some need of a horse possessed of qualities similar to those represented as belonging to the one in question, i asked if i might be allowed to try him. "try him, sir, and welcome; nay, if you will agree to feed him and take care of him, you may keep him for a month if you choose." so i had the horse taken to the stable and fed. about two hours afterwards, i took my gun, mounted the prairie nag, and went to the woods. i was not long in finding him very sensible to the spur, and as i observed that he moved with great ease, both to himself and his rider, i thought of leaping over a log several feet in diameter, to judge how far he might prove serviceable in deer-driving or bear-hunting. so i gave him the reins, and pressed my legs to his belly without using the spur, on which, as if aware that i wished to try his mettle, he bounded off, and cleared the log as lightly as an elk. i turned him, and made him leap the same log several times, which he did with equal ease, so that i was satisfied of his ability to clear any impediment in the woods. i next determined to try his strength, for which purpose i took him to a swamp, which i knew was muddy and tough. he entered it with his nose close to the water, as if to judge of its depth, at which i was well pleased, as he thus evinced due caution. i then rode through the swamp in different directions, and found him prompt, decided, and unflinching. can he swim well? thought i,--for there are horses, which, although excellent, cannot swim at all, but will now and then lie on their side, as if contented to float with the current, when the rider must either swim and drag them to the shore, or abandon them. to the ohio then i went, and rode into the water. he made off obliquely against the current, his head well raised above the surface, his nostrils expanded, his breathing free, and without any of the grunting noise emitted by many horses on such occasions. i turned him down the stream, then directly against it, and finding him quite to my mind, i returned to the shore, on reaching which he stopped of his own accord, spread his legs, and almost shook me off my seat. after this, i put him to a gallop, and returning home through the woods, shot from the saddle a turkey-cock, which he afterwards approached as if he had been trained to the sport, and enabled me to take it up without dismounting. as soon as i reached the house of dr. rankin, where i then resided, i sent word to the owner of the horse that i should be glad to see him. when he came, i asked him what price he would take; he said, fifty dollars in silver was the lowest. so i paid the money, took a bill of sale, and became master of the horse. the doctor, who was an excellent judge, said smiling to me, "mr. audubon, when you are tired of him, i will refund you the fifty dollars, for depend upon it he is a capital horse." the mane was trimmed, but the tail left untouched; the doctor had him shod "all round," and for several weeks he was ridden by my wife, who was highly pleased with him. business requiring that i should go to philadelphia, barro (he was so named after his former owner) was put up for ten days, and well tended. the time of my departure having arrived, i mounted him, and set off at the rate of four miles an hour--but here i must give you the line of my journey, that you may, if you please, follow my course on some such map as that of tanner's. from henderson through russellville, nashville, and knoxville, abingdon in virginia, the natural bridge, harrisonburg, winchester, and harper's ferry, frederick, and lancaster, to philadelphia. there i remained four days, after which i returned by way of pittsburgh, wheeling, zanesville, chillicothe, lexington, and louisville, to henderson. but the nature of my business was such as to make me deviate considerably from the main roads, and i computed the whole distance at nearly two thousand miles, the post roads being rather more than sixteen hundred. i travelled not less than forty miles a day, and it was allowed by the doctor that my horse was in as good condition on my return as when i set out. such a journey on a single horse may seem somewhat marvellous in the eyes of a european; but in these days almost every merchant had to perform the like, some from all parts of the western country, even from st. louis on the missouri, although the travellers not unfrequently, on their return, sold their horses at baltimore, philadelphia, or pittsburg, at which latter place they took boat. my wife rode on a single horse from henderson to philadelphia, travelling at the same rate. the country was then comparatively new; few coaches travelled, and in fact the roads were scarcely fit for carriages. about twenty days were considered necessary for performing a journey on horseback from louisville to philadelphia, whereas now the same distance may be travelled in six or seven days,[ ] or even sometimes less, this depending on the height of the water in the ohio. it may not be uninteresting to you to know the treatment which the horse received on those journeys. i rose every morning before day, cleaned my horse, pressed his back with my hand, to see if it had been galled, and placed on it a small blanket folded double, in such a manner that when the saddle was put on, half of the cloth was turned over it. the surcingle, beneath which the saddlebags were placed, confined the blanket to the seat, and to the pad behind was fastened the great coat or cloak, tightly rolled up. the bridle had a snaffle bit; a breast-plate was buckled in front to each skirt, to render the seat secure during an ascent; but my horse required no crupper, his shoulders being high and well-formed. on starting he trotted off at the rate of four miles an hour, which he continued. i usually travelled from fifteen to twenty miles before breakfast, and after the first hour allowed my horse to drink as much as he would. when i halted for breakfast, i generally stopped two hours, cleaned the horse, and gave him as much corn-blades as he could eat. i then rode on until within half an hour of sunset, when i watered him well, poured a bucket of cold water over his back, had his skin well rubbed, his feet examined and cleaned. the rack was filled with blades, the trough with corn, a good-sized pumpkin or some hen's-eggs, whenever they could be procured, were thrown in, and if oats were to be had, half a bushel of them was given in preference to corn, which is apt to heat some horses. in the morning, the nearly empty trough and rack afforded sufficient evidence of the state of his health. i had not ridden him many days before he became so attached to me that on coming to some limpid stream in which i had a mind to bathe, i could leave him at liberty to graze, and he would not drink if told not to do so. he was ever sure-footed, and in such continual good spirits that now and then, when a turkey happened to rise from a dusting-place before me, the mere inclination of my body forward was enough to bring him to a smart canter, which he would continue until the bird left the road for the woods, when he never failed to resume his usual trot. on my way homeward i met at the crossings of the juniata river a gentleman from new orleans, whose name is vincent nolte.[ ] he was mounted on a superb horse, for which he had paid three hundred dollars, and a servant on horseback led another as a change. i was then an utter stranger to him, and as i approached and praised his horse, he not very courteously observed that he wished i had as good a one. finding that he was going to bedford to spend the night, i asked him at what hour he would get there. "just soon enough to have some trout ready for our supper, provided you will join when you get there." i almost imagined that barro understood our conversation; he pricked up his ears, and lengthened his pace, on which mr. nolte caracoled his horse, and then put him to a quick trot; but all in vain, for i reached the hotel nearly a quarter of an hour before him, ordered the trout, saw to the putting away of my good horse, and stood at the door ready to welcome my companion. from that day vincent nolte has been a friend to me. it was from him i received letters of introduction to the rathbones of liverpool, for which i shall ever be grateful to him. we rode together as far as shippingport, where my worthy friend nicholas berthoud, esq., resided, and on parting with me he repeated what he had many times said before, that he never had seen so serviceable a creature as barro. if i recollect rightly, i gave a short verbal account of this journey, and of the good qualities of my horse, to my learned friend j. skinner, esq., of baltimore, who, i believe, has noticed them in his excellent sporting magazine. we agreed that the importation of horses of this kind from the western prairies might improve our breeds generally; and judging from those which i have seen, i am inclined to think that some of them may prove fit for the course. a few days after reaching henderson, i parted with barro, not without regret, for a hundred and twenty dollars. breaking up of the ice while proceeding up the mississippi above its junction with the ohio,[ ] i found to my great mortification that its navigation was obstructed by ice. the chief conductor of my bark, who was a french canadian, was therefore desired to take us to a place suitable for winter quarters, which he accordingly did, bringing us into a great bend of the river called tawapatee bottom. the waters were unusually low, the thermometer indicated excessive cold, the earth all around was covered with snow, dark clouds were spread over the heavens, and as all appearances were unfavorable to the hope of a speedy prosecution of our voyage, we quietly set to work. our bark, which was a large keel-boat, was moored close to the shore, the cargo was conveyed to the woods, large trees were felled over the water, and were so disposed as to keep off the pressure of the floating masses of ice. in less than two days, our stores, baggage, and ammunition were deposited in a great heap under one of the magnificent trees of which the forest was here composed, our sails were spread over all, and a complete camp was formed in the wilderness. everything around us seemed dreary and dismal, and had we not been endowed with the faculty of deriving pleasure from the examination of nature, we should have made up our minds to pass the time in a state similar to that of bears during their time of hibernation. we soon found employment, however, for the woods were full of game; and deer, turkeys, raccoons, and opossums might be seen even around our camp; while on the ice that now covered the broad stream rested flocks of swans, to surprise which the hungry wolves were at times seen to make energetic but unsuccessful efforts. it was curious to see the snow-white birds all lying flat on the ice, but keenly intent on watching the motions of their insidious enemies, until the latter advanced within the distance of a few hundred yards, when the swans, sounding their trumpet-notes of alarm, would all rise, spread out their broad wings, and after running some yards and battering the ice until the noise was echoed like thunder through the woods, rose exultingly into the air, leaving their pursuers to devise other schemes for gratifying their craving appetites. the nights being extremely cold, we constantly kept up a large fire, formed of the best wood. fine trees of ash and hickory were felled, cut up into logs of convenient size, and rolled into a pile, on the top of which, with the aid of twigs, a fire was kindled. there were about fifteen of us, some hunters, others trappers, and all more or less accustomed to living in the woods. at night, when all had returned from their hunting grounds, some successful and others empty-handed, they presented a picture in the strong glare of the huge fire that illuminated the forest, which it might prove interesting to you to see, were it copied by a bold hand on canvas. over a space of thirty yards or more, the snow was scraped away, and piled up into a circular wall, which protected us from the cold blast. our cooking utensils formed no mean display, and before a week had elapsed, venison, turkeys, and raccoons hung on the branches in profusion. fish, too, and that of excellent quality, often graced our board, having been obtained by breaking holes in the ice of the lakes. it was observed that the opossums issued at night from holes in the banks of the river, to which they returned about daybreak; and having thus discovered their retreat, we captured many of them by means of snares. at the end of a fortnight our bread failed, and two of the party were directed to proceed across the bend, towards a village on the western bank of the mississippi, in quest of that commodity; for although we had a kind of substitute for it in the dry white flesh of the breast of the wild turkey, bread is bread after all, and more indispensable to civilized man than any other article of food. the expedition left the camp early one morning; one of the party boasted much of his knowledge of woods, while the other said nothing, but followed. they walked on all day, and returned next morning to the camp with empty wallets. the next attempt, however, succeeded, and they brought on a sledge a barrel of flour, and some potatoes. after a while we were joined by many indians, the observation of whose manners afforded us much amusement. six weeks were spent in tawapatee bottom. the waters had kept continually sinking, and our boat lay on her side high and dry. on both sides of the stream, the ice had broken into heaps, forming huge walls. our pilot visited the river daily, to see what prospect there might be of a change. one night, while, excepting himself, all were sound asleep, he suddenly roused us with loud cries of "the ice is breaking! get up, get up! down to the boat, lads! bring out your axes! hurry on, or we may lose her! here, let us have a torch!" starting up as if we had been attacked by a band of savages, we ran pell-mell to the bank. the ice was indeed breaking up; it split with reports like those of heavy artillery, and as the water had suddenly risen from an overflow of the ohio, the two streams seemed to rush against each other with violence; in consequence of which the congealed mass was broken into large fragments, some of which rose nearly erect here and there, and again fell with thundering crash, as the wounded whale, when in the agonies of death, springs up with furious force and again plunges into the foaming waters. to our surprise the weather, which in the evening had been calm and frosty, had become wet and blowy. the water gushed from the fissures formed in the ice, and the prospect was extremely dismal. when day dawned, a spectacle strange and fearful presented itself: the whole mass of water was violently agitated, its covering was broken into small fragments, and although not a foot of space was without ice, not a step could the most daring have ventured to make upon it. our boat was in imminent danger, for the trees which had been placed to guard it from the ice were cut or broken into pieces, and were thrust against her. it was impossible to move her; but our pilot ordered every man to bring down great bunches of cane, which were lashed along her sides; and before these were destroyed by the ice, she was afloat and riding above it. while we were gazing on the scene a tremendous crash was heard, which seemed to have taken place about a mile below, when suddenly the great dam of ice gave way. the current of the mississippi had forced its way against that of the ohio, and in less than four hours we witnessed the complete breaking up of the ice. during that winter the ice was so thick on the mississippi that, opposite st. louis, horses and heavy wagons crossed the river. many boats had been detained in the same manner as our own, so that provisions and other necessary articles had become very scarce, and sold at a high price. this was the winter of - . the prairie on my return from the upper mississippi i found myself obliged to cross one of the wide prairies which, in that portion of the united states, vary the appearance of the country. the weather was fine; all around me was as fresh and blooming as if it had just issued from the bosom of nature. my knapsack, my gun, and my dog were all i had for baggage and company. but, although well moccasined, i moved slowly along, attracted by the brilliancy of the flowers, and the gambols of the fawns around their dams, to all appearance as thoughtless of danger as i felt myself. my march was of long duration; i saw the sun sinking below the horizon long before i could perceive any appearance of woodland, and nothing in the shape of man had i met with that day. the track which i followed was only an old indian trace, and as darkness overshadowed the prairie i felt some desire to reach at least a copse, in which i might lie down to rest. the night hawks were skimming over and around me, attracted by the buzzing wings of the beetles which form their food, and the distant howling of wolves gave me some hope that i should soon arrive at the skirts of some woodlands. i did so, and almost at the same instant, a firelight attracting my eye, i moved towards it, full of confidence that it proceeded from the camp of some wandering indians. i was mistaken: i discovered by its glare that it was from the hearth of a small log cabin, and that a tall figure passed and repassed between it and me, as if busily engaged in household arrangements. i reached the spot, and presenting myself at the door, asked the tall figure, which proved to be a woman, if i might take shelter under her roof for the night. her voice was gruff, and her attire negligently thrown about her. she answered in the affirmative. i walked in, took a wooden stool, and quietly seated myself by the fire. the next object that attracted my notice was a finely formed young indian, resting his head between his hands, with his elbows on his knees. a long bow rested against the log wall near him, while a quantity of arrows and two or three raccoon skins lay at his feet. he moved not; he apparently breathed not. accustomed to the habits of indians, and knowing that they pay little attention to the approach of civilized strangers (a circumstance which in some countries is considered as evincing the apathy of their character), i addressed him in french, a language not infrequently partially known to the people in that neighborhood. he raised his head, pointed to one of his eyes with his finger, and gave me a significant glance with the other. his face was covered with blood. the fact was that an hour before this, as he was in the act of discharging an arrow at a raccoon in the top of a tree, the arrow had split upon the cord, and sprung back with such violence into his right eye as to destroy it forever. feeling hungry, i inquired what sort of fare i might expect. such a thing as a bed was not to be seen, but many large untanned bear and buffalo hides lay piled in a corner. i drew a fine time-piece from my breast, and told the woman that it was late, and that i was fatigued. she had espied my watch, the richness of which seemed to operate upon her feelings with electric quickness. she told me there was plenty of venison and jerked buffalo meat, and that on removing the ashes i should find a cake. but my watch had struck her fancy, and her curiosity had to be gratified by an immediate sight of it. i took off the gold chain that secured it, from around my neck, and presented it to her; she was all ecstasy, spoke of its beauty, asked me its value, and put the chain round her brawny neck, saying how happy the possession of such a watch would make her. thoughtless, and as i fancied myself in so retired a spot secure, i paid little attention to her talk or her movements. i helped my dog to a good supper of venison, and was not long in satisfying the demands of my own appetite. the indian rose from his seat, as if in extreme suffering. he passed and repassed me several times, and once pinched me on the side so violently that the pain nearly brought forth an exclamation of anger. i looked at him. his eye met mine, but his look was so forbidding that it struck a chill into the more nervous part of my system. he again seated himself, drew his butcher-knife from its greasy scabbard, examined its edge, as i would do that of a razor suspected dull, replaced it, and again taking his tomahawk from his back, filled the pipe of it with tobacco, and sent me expressive glances, whenever our hostess chanced to have her back towards us. never until that moment had my senses been awakened to the danger which i now suspected to be about me. i returned glance for glance to my companion, and rested well assured that, whatever enemies i might have, he was not of their number. i asked the woman for my watch, wound it up, and under pretence of wishing to see how the weather might probably be on the morrow, took up my gun, and walked out of the cabin. i slipped a ball into each barrel, scraped the edges of my flints, renewed the primings, and returning to the hut gave a favorable report of my observations. i took a few bear skins, made a pallet of them, and calling my faithful dog to my side, lay down, with my gun close to my body, and in a few minutes was, to all appearance, fast asleep. a short time had elapsed when some voices were heard, and from the corner of my eye i saw two athletic youths making their entrance, bearing a dead stag on a pole. they disposed of their burden, and asking for whiskey, helped themselves freely to it. observing me and the wounded indian, they asked who i was, and why the devil that rascal (meaning the indian, who, they knew, understood not a word of english) was in the house. the mother--for so she proved to be--bade them speak less loudly, made mention of my watch, and took them to a corner, where a conversation took place, the purport of which it required little shrewdness in me to guess. i tapped my dog gently. he moved his tail, and with indescribable pleasure i saw his fine eyes alternately fixed on me, and raised towards the trio in the corner. i felt that he perceived danger in my situation. the indian exchanged a last glance with me. the lads had eaten and drunk themselves into such a condition that i already looked upon them as _hors de combat_; and the frequent visits of the whiskey bottle to the ugly mouth of their dam, i hoped would soon reduce her to a like state. judge of my astonishment, reader, when i saw this incarnate fiend take a large carving-knife, and go to the grindstone to whet its edge; i saw her pour the water on the turning machine, and watched her working away with the dangerous instrument, until the cold sweat covered every part of my body, in despite of my determination to defend myself to the last. her task finished, she walked to her reeling sons, and said: "there, that'll soon settle him! boys, kill yon ---- ----, and then for the watch." i turned, cocked my gun-locks silently, touched my faithful companion, and lay ready to start up and shoot the first who might attempt my life. the moment was fast approaching, and that night might have been my last in this world, had not providence made preparations for my rescue. all was ready. the infernal hag was advancing slowly, probably contemplating the best way of despatching me, whilst her sons should be engaged with the indian. i was several times on the eve of rising and shooting her on the spot; but she was not to be punished thus. the door was suddenly opened, and there entered two stout travellers, each with a long rifle on his shoulder. i bounced up on my feet, and making them most heartily welcome, told them how well it was for me that they should have arrived at that moment. the tale was told in a minute. the drunken sons were secured, and the woman, in spite of her defence and vociferations, shared the same fate. the indian fairly danced with joy, and gave us to understand that, as he could not sleep for pain, he would watch over us. you may suppose we slept much less than we talked. the two strangers gave me an account of their once having been themselves in a somewhat similar situation. day came, fair and rosy, and with it the punishment of our captives. they were now quite sobered. their feet were unbound, but their arms were still securely tied. we marched them into the woods off the road, and having used them as regulators were wont to use such delinquents, we set fire to the cabin, gave all the skins and implements to the young indian warrior, and proceeded, well pleased, towards the settlements. during upwards of twenty-five years, when my wanderings extended to all parts of our country, this was the only time at which my life was in danger from my fellow-creatures. indeed, so little risk do travellers run in the united states that no one born there ever dreams of any to be encountered on the road; and i can only account for this occurrence by supposing that the inhabitants of the cabin were not americans. will you believe, good-natured reader, that not many miles from the place where this adventure happened, and where fifteen years ago, no habitation belonging to civilized man was expected, and very few ever seen, large roads are now laid out, cultivation has converted the woods into fertile fields, taverns have been erected, and much of what we americans call comfort is to be met with? so fast does improvement proceed in our abundant and free country.[ ] the regulators the population of many parts of america is derived from the refuse of every other country. i hope i shall elsewhere prove to you, kind reader, that even in this we have reason to feel a certain degree of pride, as we often see our worst denizens becoming gradually freed from error, and at length changing to useful and respectable citizens. the most depraved of these emigrants are forced to retreat farther and farther from the society of the virtuous, the restraints imposed by whom they find incompatible with their habits and the gratification of their unbridled passions. on the extreme verge of civilization, however, their evil propensities find more free scope, and the dread of punishments for their deeds, or the infliction of that punishment, are the only means that prove effectual in reforming them. in those remote parts, no sooner is it discovered that an individual has conducted himself in a notoriously vicious manner, or has committed some outrage upon society, than a conclave of the honest citizens takes place, for the purpose of investigating the case, with a rigor without which no good result could be expected. these honest citizens, selected from among the most respectable persons in the district, and vested with power suited to the necessity of preserving order on the frontiers, are named regulators. the accused person is arrested, his conduct laid open, and if he is found guilty of a first crime, he is warned to leave the country, and go farther from society, within an appointed time. should the individual prove so callous as to disregard the sentence, and remain in the same neighborhood, to commit new crimes, then woe be to him; for the regulators, after proving him guilty a second time, pass and execute a sentence which, if not enough to make him perish under the infliction, is at least forever impressed upon his memory. the punishment inflicted is usually a severe castigation, and the destruction by fire of his cabin. sometimes, in cases of reiterated theft or murder, death is considered necessary; and, in some instances, delinquents of the worst species have been shot, after which their heads have been stuck on poles, to deter others from following their example. i shall give you an account of one of these desperadoes, as i received it from a person who had been instrumental in bringing him to punishment. the name of mason is still familiar to many of the navigators of the lower ohio and mississippi. by dint of industry in bad deeds, he became a notorious horse-stealer, formed a line of worthless associates from the eastern part of virginia (a state greatly celebrated for its fine breed of horses) to new orleans, and had a settlement on wolf island, not far from the confluence of the ohio and mississippi, from which he issued to stop the flatboats, and rifle them of such provisions and other articles as he and his party needed. his depredations became the talk of the whole western country; and to pass wolf island was not less to be dreaded than to anchor under the walls of algiers. the horses, the negroes, and the cargoes, his gang carried off and sold. at last, a body of regulators undertook, at great peril, and for the sake of the country, to bring the villain to punishment. mason was as cunning and watchful as he was active and daring. many of his haunts were successively found out and searched, but the numerous spies in his employ enabled him to escape in time. one day, however, as he was riding a beautiful horse in the woods he was met by one of the regulators, who immediately recognized him, but passed him as if an utter stranger. mason, not dreaming of danger, pursued his way leisurely, as if he had met no one. but he was dogged by the regulator, and in such a manner as proved fatal to him. at dusk, mason, having reached the lowest part of a ravine, no doubt well known to him, hoppled (tied together the fore-legs of) his stolen horse, to enable it to feed during the night without chance of straying far, and concealed himself in a hollow log to spend the night. the plan was good, but proved his ruin. the regulator, who knew every hill and hollow of the woods, marked the place and the log with the eye of an experienced hunter, and as he remarked that mason was most efficiently armed, he galloped off to the nearest house where he knew he should find assistance. this was easily procured, and the party proceeded to the spot. mason, on being attacked, defended himself with desperate valor; and as it proved impossible to secure him alive he was brought to the ground with a rifle ball. his head was cut off, and stuck on the end of a broken branch of a tree, by the nearest road to the place where the affray happened. the gang soon dispersed, in consequence of the loss of their leader, and this infliction of merited punishment proved beneficial in deterring others from following a similar predatory life. the punishment by castigation is performed in the following manner. the individual convicted of an offence is led to some remote part of the woods, under the escort of some forty or fifty regulators. when arrived at the chosen spot, the criminal is made fast to a tree, and a few of the regulators remain with him, while the rest scour the forest to assure themselves that no strangers are within reach, after which they form an extensive ring, arranging themselves on their horses, well armed with rifles and pistols, at equal distances and in each other's sight. at a given signal that "all's ready," those about the culprit, having provided themselves with young twigs of hickory, administer the number of lashes prescribed by the sentence, untie the sufferer, and order him to leave the country immediately. one of these castigations, which took place more within my personal knowledge, was performed on a fellow who was neither a thief nor a murderer, but who had misbehaved otherwise sufficiently to bring himself under the sentence with mitigation. he was taken to a place where nettles were known to grow in great luxuriance, completely stripped and so lashed with them that, although not materially hurt, he took it as a hint not to be neglected, left the country, and was never again heard of by any of the party concerned. probably at the moment when i am copying these notes respecting the early laws of our frontier people, few or no regulating parties exist, the terrible examples that were made having impressed upon the new settlers a salutary dread, which restrains them from the commission of flagrant crimes. the earthquake travelling through the barrens of kentucky (of which i shall give you an account elsewhere) in the month of november, i was jogging on one afternoon, when i remarked a sudden and strange darkness rising from the western horizon. accustomed to our heavy storms of thunder and rain i took no more notice of it, as i thought the speed of my horse might enable me to get under shelter of the roof of an acquaintance, who lived not far distant, before it should come up. i had proceeded about a mile, when i heard what i imagined to be the distant rumbling of a violent tornado, on which i spurred my steed, with a wish to gallop as fast as possible to a place of shelter; but it would not do, the animal knew better than i what was forthcoming, and instead of going faster, so nearly stopped that i remarked he placed one foot after another on the ground, with as much precaution as if walking on a smooth sheet of ice. i thought he had suddenly foundered, and, speaking to him, was on the point of dismounting and leading him, when he all of a sudden fell a-groaning piteously, hung his head, spread out his four legs, as if to save himself from falling, and stood stock still, continuing to groan. i thought my horse was about to die, and would have sprung from his back had a minute more elapsed, but at that instant all the shrubs and trees began to move from their very roots, the ground rose and fell in successive furrows, like the ruffled waters of a lake, and i became bewildered in my ideas, as i too plainly discovered that all this awful commotion in nature was the result of an earthquake. [illustration: audubon, . painted in edinburgh by j. w. audubon.] i had never witnessed anything of the kind before, although, like every other person, i knew of earthquakes by description. but what is description compared with the reality? who can tell of the sensations which i experienced when i found myself rocking as it were on my horse, and with him moved to and fro like a child in a cradle, with the most imminent danger around, and expecting the ground every moment to open and present to my eye such an abyss as might engulf myself and all around me? the fearful convulsion, however, lasted only a few minutes, and the heavens again brightened as quickly as they had become obscured; my horse brought his feet to their natural position, raised his head, and galloped off as if loose and frolicking without a rider. i was not, however, without great apprehension respecting my family, from which i was yet many miles distant, fearful that where they were the shock might have caused greater havoc than i had witnessed. i gave the bridle to my steed, and was glad to see him appear as anxious to get home as myself. the pace at which he galloped accomplished this sooner than i had expected, and i found with much pleasure that hardly any greater harm had taken place than the apprehension excited for my own safety. shock succeeded shock almost every day or night for several weeks, diminishing, however, so gradually as to dwindle away into mere vibrations of the earth. strange to say, i for one became so accustomed to the feeling as rather to enjoy the fears manifested by others. i never can forget the effects of one of the slighter shocks which took place when i was at a friend's house, where i had gone to enjoy the merriment that, in our western country, attends a wedding. the ceremony being performed, supper over, and the fiddles tuned, dancing became the order of the moment. this was merrily followed up to a late hour, when the party retired to rest. we were in what is called, with great propriety, a _log-house_, one of large dimensions, and solidly constructed. the owner was a physician, and in one corner were not only his lancets, tourniquets, amputating knives, and other sanguinary apparatus, but all the drugs which he employed for the relief of his patients, arranged in jars and phials of different sizes. these had some days before had a narrow escape from destruction, but had been fortunately preserved by closing the doors of the cases in which they were contained. as i have said, we had all retired to rest, some to dream of sighs or smiles, some to sink into oblivion. morning was fast approaching, when the rumbling noise that precedes the earthquake, began so loudly as to waken and alarm the whole party, and drive them out of bed in the greatest consternation. the scene which ensued it is impossible for me to describe, and it would require the humorous pencil of cruikshank to do justice to it. fear knows no restraint. every person, young and old, filled with alarm at the creaking of the log-house, and apprehending instant destruction, rushed wildly out to the grass enclosure fronting the building. the full moon was slowly descending from her throne, covered at times by clouds that rolled heavily along, as if to conceal from her view the scenes of terror which prevailed on the earth below. on the grass-plat we all met, in such condition as rendered it next to impossible to discriminate any of the party, all huddled together in a state of great dishabille. the earth waved like a field of corn before the breeze; the birds left their perches, and flew about, not knowing whither; and the doctor, recollecting the danger of his gallipots, ran to his shop room, to prevent their dancing off the shelves to the floor. never for a moment did he think of closing the doors, but, spreading his arms, jumped about the front of the cases, pushing back here and there the falling jars; with so little success, however, that before the shock was over he had lost nearly all he possessed. the shock at length ceased, and the frightened women now sensible of their undress, fled to their several apartments. the earthquake produced more serious consequences in other places. near new madrid and for some distance on the mississippi, the earth was rent asunder in several places, one or two islands sunk forever, and the inhabitants fled in dismay towards the eastern shore. the hurricane various portions of our country have at different periods suffered severely from the influence of violent storms of wind, some of which have been known to traverse nearly the whole extent of the united states, and to leave such deep impressions in their wake as will not easily be forgotten. having witnessed one of these awful phenomena, in all its grandeur, i shall attempt to describe it for your sake, kind reader, and for your sake only; the recollection of that astonishing revolution of the ethereal element even now bringing with it so disagreeable a sensation that i feel as if about to be affected by a sudden stoppage of the circulation of my blood. i had left the village of shawanee, situated on the banks of the ohio, on my return from henderson, which is also situated on the banks of the same beautiful stream. the weather was pleasant, and i thought not warmer than usual at that season. my horse was jogging quietly along, and my thoughts were, for once at least in the course of my life, entirely engaged in commercial speculations. i had forded highland creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of bottom land or valley that lay between it and canoe creek, when on a sudden i remarked a great difference in the aspect of the heavens. a hazy thickness had overspread the country, and i for some time expected an earthquake; but my horse exhibited no propensity to stop and prepare for such an occurrence. i had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, when i thought fit to stop near a brook, and dismounted to quench the thirst which had come upon me. i was leaning on my knees, with my lips about to touch the water, when, from my proximity to the earth, i heard a distant murmuring sound of an extraordinary nature. i drank, however, and as i rose on my feet, looked towards the southwest, where i observed a yellowish oval spot, the appearance of which was quite new to me. little time was left me for consideration, as the next moment a smart breeze began to agitate the taller trees. it increased to an unexpected height, and already the smaller branches and twigs were seen falling in a slanting direction towards the ground. two minutes had scarcely elapsed, when the whole forest before me was in fearful motion. here and there, where one tree pressed against another, a creaking noise was produced, similar to that occasioned by the violent gusts which sometimes sweep over the country. turning instinctively towards the direction from which the wind blew, i saw to my great astonishment that the noblest trees of the forest bent their lofty heads for a while, and, unable to stand against the blast, were falling into pieces. first the branches were broken off with a crackling noise; then went the upper parts of the massy trunks; and in many places whole trees of gigantic size were falling entire to the ground. so rapid was the progress of the storm that before i could think of taking measures to insure my safety the hurricane was passing opposite the place where i stood. never can i forget the scene which at that moment presented itself. the tops of the trees were seen moving in the strangest manner, in the central current of the tempest, which carried along with it a mingled mass of twigs and foliage that completely obscured the view. some of the largest trees were seen bending and writhing under the gale; others suddenly snapped across; and many, after a momentary resistance, fell uprooted to the earth. the mass of branches, twigs, foliage, and dust that moved through the air was whirled onwards like a cloud of feathers, and on passing disclosed a wide space filled with fallen trees, naked stumps, and heaps of shapeless ruins which marked the path of the tempest. this space was about a fourth of a mile in breadth, and to my imagination resembled the dried up bed of the mississippi, with its thousands of planters and sawyers strewed in the sand and inclined in various degrees. the horrible noise resembled that of the great cataracts of niagara, and, as it howled along in the track of the desolating tempest, produced a feeling in my mind which it were impossible to describe. the principal force of the hurricane was now over, although millions of twigs and small branches that had been brought from a great distance were seen following the blast, as if drawn onwards by some mysterious power. they even floated in the air for some hours after, as if supported by the thick mass of dust that rose high above the ground. the sky had now a greenish lurid hue, and an extremely disagreeable sulphurous odor was diffused in the atmosphere. i waited in amazement, having sustained no material injury, until nature at length resumed her wonted aspect. for some moments i felt undetermined whether i should return to morgantown, or attempt to force my way through the wrecks of the tempest. my business, however, being of an urgent nature, i ventured into the path of the storm, and after encountering innumerable difficulties, succeeded in crossing it. i was obliged to lead my horse by the bridle, to enable him to leap over the fallen trees, whilst i scrambled over or under them in the best way i could, at times so hemmed in by the broken tops and tangled branches as almost to become desperate. on arriving at my house, i gave an account of what i had seen, when, to my astonishment, i was told there had been very little wind in the neighborhood, although in the streets and gardens many branches and twigs had fallen in a manner which excited great surprise. many wondrous accounts of the devastating effects of this hurricane were circulated in the country after its occurrence. some log houses, we were told, had been overturned and their inmates destroyed. one person informed me that a wire sifter had been conveyed by the gust to a distance of many miles. another had found a cow lodged in the fork of a large half-broken tree. but, as i am disposed to relate only what i have myself seen, i shall not lead you into the region of romance, but shall content myself with saying that much damage was done by this awful visitation. the valley is yet a desolate place, overgrown with briers and bushes, thickly entangled amidst the tops and trunks of the fallen trees, and is the resort of ravenous animals, to which they betake themselves when pursued by man, or after they have committed their depredations on the farms of the surrounding district. i have crossed the path of the storm at a distance of a hundred miles from the spot where i witnessed its fury, and again, four hundred miles farther off, in the state of ohio. lastly, i observed traces of its ravages on the summits of the mountains connected with the great pine forest of pennsylvania, three hundred miles beyond the place last mentioned. in all these different parts it appeared to me not to have exceeded a quarter of a mile in breadth. colonel boone daniel boone, or, as he was usually called in the western country, colonel boone, happened to spend a night with me under the same roof, more than twenty years ago. we had returned from a shooting excursion, in the course of which his extraordinary skill in the management of the rifle had been fully displayed. on retiring to the room appropriated to that remarkable individual and myself for the night, i felt anxious to know more of his exploits and adventures than i did, and accordingly took the liberty of proposing numerous questions to him. the stature and general appearance of this wanderer of the western forests approached the gigantic. his chest was broad and prominent; his muscular powers displayed themselves in every limb; his countenance gave indication of his great courage, enterprise, and perseverance; and when he spoke, the very motion of his lips brought the impression that whatever he uttered could not be otherwise than strictly true. i undressed, whilst he merely took off his hunting shirt, and arranged a few folds of blankets on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as he observed, than on the softest bed. when we had both disposed of ourselves, each after his own fashion, he related to me the following account of his powers of memory, which i lay before you, kind reader, in his own words, hoping that the simplicity of his style may prove interesting to you. "i was once," said he, "on a hunting expedition on the banks of the green river, when the lower parts of this state (kentucky) were still in the hands of nature, and none but the sons of the soil were looked upon as its lawful proprietors. we virginians had for some time been waging a war of intrusion upon them, and i, amongst the rest, rambled through the woods in pursuit of their race as i now would follow the tracks of any ravenous animal. the indians outwitted me one dark night, and i was as unexpectedly as suddenly made a prisoner by them. the trick had been managed with great skill; for no sooner had i extinguished the fire of my camp, and laid me down to rest, in full security as i thought, than i felt myself seized by an indistinguishable number of hands, and was immediately pinioned, as if about to be led to the scaffold for execution. to have attempted to be refractory would have proved useless and dangerous to my life; and i suffered myself to be removed from my camp to theirs, a few miles distant, without uttering even a word of complaint. you are aware, i dare say, that to act in this manner was the best policy, as you understand that, by so doing, i proved to the indians at once that i was born and bred as fearless of death as any of themselves. "when we reached the camp, great rejoicings were exhibited. two squaws and a few pappooses appeared particularly delighted at the sight of me, and i was assured, by very unequivocal gestures and words, that, on the morrow, the mortal enemy of the red-skins would cease to live. i never opened my lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might enable me to give the rascals the slip before dawn. the women immediately fell a-searching about my hunting-shirt for whatever they might think valuable, and, fortunately for me, soon found my flask filled with _monongahela_ (that is, reader, strong whiskey). a terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at the anticipation of their intoxication. the crew immediately began to beat their bellies and sing, as they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth. how often did i wish the flask ten times its size, and filled with aqua-fortis! i observed that the squaws drank more freely than the warriors, and again my spirits were about to be depressed, when the report of a gun was heard at a distance. the indians all jumped on their feet. the singing and drinking were both brought to a stand, and i saw, with inexpressible joy, the men walk off to some distance and talk to the squaws. i knew that they were consulting about me, and i foresaw that in a few moments the warriors would go to discover the cause of the gun having been fired so near their camp. i expected that the squaws would be left to guard me. well, sir, it was just so. they returned; the men took up their guns and walked away. the squaws sat down again, and in less than five minutes had my bottle up to their dirty mouths, gurgling down their throats the remains of the whiskey. "with what pleasure did i see them becoming more and more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of them that it was quite impossible for these women to be of any service. they tumbled down, rolled about, and began to snore: when i, having no other chance of freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, rolled over and over towards the fire, and, after a short time, burned them asunder. i rose on my feet, stretched my stiffened sinews, snatched up my rifle, and, for once in my life, spared that of indians. i now recollect how desirous i once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the wretches with my tomahawk; but when i again thought upon killing beings unprepared and unable to defend themselves, it looked like murder without need, and i gave up the idea. "but, sir, i felt determined to mark the spot, and walking to a thrifty ash sapling, i cut out of it three large chips, and ran off. i soon reached the river, soon crossed it, and threw myself deep into the cane-brakes, imitating the tracks of an indian with my feet, so that no chance might be left for those from whom i had escaped to overtake me. "it is now nearly twenty years since this happened, and more than five since i left the whites' settlements, which i might probably never have visited again had i not been called on as a witness in a law-suit that was pending in kentucky, and which i really believe would never have been settled had i not come forward and established the beginning of a certain boundary line. this is the story, sir. "mr. ---- moved from old virginia into kentucky, and having a large tract granted to him in the new state, laid claim to a certain parcel of land adjoining green river, and, as chance would have it, took for one of his corners the very ash-tree on which i had made my mark, and finished his survey of some thousands of acres, beginning, as it is expressed in the deed, 'at an ash marked by three distinct notches of the tomahawk of a white man.' "the tree had grown much, and the bark had covered the marks; but, somehow or other, mr. ---- heard from some one all that i have already said to you, and thinking that i might remember the spot alluded to in the deed, but which was no longer discoverable, wrote for me to come and try at least to find the place or the tree. his letter mentioned that all my expenses should be paid, and not caring much about once more going back to kentucky, i started and met mr. ----. after some conversation, the affair with the indians came to my recollection. i considered for a while, and began to think that after all i could find the very spot, as well as the tree, if it was yet standing. "mr. ---- and i mounted our horses, and off we went to the green river bottoms. after some difficulties, for you must be aware, sir, that great changes have taken place in those woods, i found at last the spot where i had crossed the river, and, waiting for the moon to rise, made for the course in which i thought the ash-tree grew. on approaching the place, i felt as if the indians were there still, and as if i was still a prisoner among them. mr. ---- and i camped near what i conceived the spot, and waited until the return of day. "at the rising of the sun i was on foot, and, after a good deal of musing, thought that an ash-tree then in sight must be the very one on which i had made my mark. i felt as if there could be no doubt of it, and mentioned my thought to mr. ----. 'well, colonel boone,' said he, 'if you think so, i hope it may prove true, but we must have some witnesses; do you stay here about, and i will go and bring some of the settlers whom i know.' i agreed. mr. ---- trotted off, and i, to pass the time, rambled about to see if a deer was still living in the land. but ah! sir, what a wonderful difference thirty years makes in the country! why, at the time when i was caught by the indians, you would not have walked out in any direction for more than a mile without shooting a buck or a bear. there were then thousands of buffaloes on the hills in kentucky; the land looked as if it never would become poor; and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. but when i was left to myself on the banks of green river, i dare say for the last time in my life, a few _signs_ only of deer were to be seen, and as to a deer itself, i saw none. "mr. ---- returned, accompanied by three gentlemen. they looked upon me as if i had been washington himself, and walked to the ash-tree, which i now called my own, as if in quest of a long-lost treasure. i took an axe from one of them, and cut a few chips off the bark. still no signs were to be seen. so i cut again until i thought it was time to be cautious, and i scraped and worked away with my butcher knife until i _did_ come to where my tomahawk had left an impression in the wood. we now went regularly to work, and scraped at the tree with care, until three hacks as plain as any three notches ever were, could be seen. mr. ---- and the other gentlemen were astonished, and, i must allow, i was as much surprised as pleased myself. i made affidavit of this remarkable occurrence in presence of these gentlemen. mr. ---- gained his cause. i left green river forever, and came to where we now are; and, sir, i wish you a good night." i trust, kind reader, that when i again make my appearance with another volume of ornithological biography, i shall not have to search in vain for the impression which i have made, but shall have the satisfaction of finding its traces still unobliterated. i now withdraw, and, in the words of the noted wanderer of the western wilds, "wish you a good night." natchez in one clear, frosty morning in december i approached in my flatboat the city of natchez. the shores were crowded with boats of various kinds, laden with the produce of the western country; and there was a bustle about them such as you might see at a general fair, each person being intent on securing the advantage of a good market. yet the scene was far from being altogether pleasing, for i was yet "under the hill;" but on removing from the lower town i beheld the cliffs on which the city, properly so called, has been built. vultures unnumbered flew close along the ground on expanded pinions, searching for food; large pines and superb magnolias here and there raised their evergreen tops towards the skies; while on the opposite shores of the mississippi vast alluvial beds stretched along, and the view terminated with the dense forest. steamers moved rapidly on the broad waters of the great stream; the sunbeams fell with a peculiarly pleasant effect on the distant objects; and as i watched the motions of the white-headed eagle while pursuing the fishing hawk, i thought of the wonderful ways of that power to whom i too owe my existence. before reaching the land i had observed that several saw-mills were placed on ditches or narrow canals, along which the water rushed from the inner swamps towards the river, and by which the timber is conveyed to the shore; and, on inquiring afterwards, i found that one of those temporary establishments had produced a net profit of upwards of six thousand dollars in a single season. there is much romantic scenery about natchez. the lower town forms a most remarkable contrast with the upper; for in the former the houses were not regularly built, being generally dwellings formed of the abandoned flatboats, placed in rows, as if with the view of forming a long street. the inhabitants formed a medley which it is beyond my power to describe; hundreds of laden carts and other vehicles jogged along the declivity between the two towns; but when, by a very rude causeway, i gained the summit, i was relieved by the sight of an avenue of those beautiful trees called here the pride of china. in the upper town i found the streets all laid off at right angles to each other, and tolerably well lined with buildings constructed with painted bricks or boards. the agricultural richness of the surrounding country was shown by the heaps of cotton bales and other produce that encumbered the streets. the churches, however, did not please me; but as if to make up for this, i found myself unexpectedly accosted by my relative, mr. berthoud, who presented me with letters from my wife and sons. these circumstances put me in high spirits, and we proceeded towards the best hotel in the place, that of mr. garnier. the house, which was built on the spanish plan, and of great size, was surrounded by large verandas over-looking a fine garden, and stood at a considerable distance from any other. at this period the city of natchez had a population not exceeding three thousand individuals. i have not visited it often since, but i have no doubt that, like all the other towns in the western district of our country, it has greatly increased. it possessed a bank, and the mail arrived there thrice in the week from all parts of the union. the first circumstance that strikes a stranger is the mildness of the temperature. several vegetables as pleasing to the eye as agreeable to the palate, and which are seldom seen in our eastern markets before may, were here already in perfection. the pewee fly-catcher had chosen the neighborhood of the city for its winter quarters, and our deservedly famed mocking-bird sang and danced gratis to every passer by. i was surprised to see the immense number of vultures that strode along the streets or slumbered on the roofs. the country for many miles inland is gently undulated. cotton is produced abundantly, and wealth and happiness have taken up their abode under most of the planters' roofs, beneath which the wearied traveller or the poor wanderer in search of a resting-place is sure to meet with comfort and relief. game is abundant, and the free indians were wont in those days to furnish the markets with ample supplies of venison and wild turkey. the mississippi, which bathes the foot of the hill some hundred feet below the town, supplies the inhabitants with fish of various kinds. the greatest deficiency is that of water, which for common purposes is dragged on sledges or wheels from the river, while that used for drinking is collected in tanks from the roofs, and becomes very scarce during protracted droughts. until of late years the orange-tree bore fruit in the open air; but, owing to the great change that has taken place in the temperature, severe though transient frosts occasionally occur, which now prevent this plant from coming to perfection in the open air. the remains of an old spanish fort are still to be seen at a short distance from the city. if i am correctly informed, about two years previous to this visit of mine a large portion of the hill near it gave way, sank about a hundred feet, and carried many of the houses of the lower town into the river. this, it would appear, was occasioned by the quicksand running springs that flow beneath the strata of mixed pebbles and clay of which the hill is composed. the part that has subsided presents the appearance of a basin or bowl, and is used as a depot for the refuse of the town, on which the vultures feed when they can get nothing better. there it was that i saw a white-headed eagle chase one of those filthy birds, knock it down, and feast on the entrails of a horse which the carrion crow had partly swallowed. i did not meet at natchez many individuals fond of ornithological pursuits, but the hospitality with which i was received was such as i am not likely to forget. mr. gamier subsequently proved an excellent friend to me, as you may find elsewhere recorded. of another individual, whose kindness to me is indelibly impressed on my heart, i would say a few words, although he was such a man as fénelon alone could describe. charles carré was of french origin, the son of a nobleman of the old régime. his acquirements and the benevolence of his disposition were such that when i first met him i could not help looking upon him as another mentor. although his few remaining locks were gray, his countenance still expressed the gayety and buoyant feelings of youth. he had the best religious principles; for his heart and his purse were ever open to the poor. under his guidance it was that i visited the whole neighborhood of natchez; for he was acquainted with all its history, from the period at which it had first come under the power of the spaniards to that of their expulsion from the country, its possession by the french, and subsequently by ourselves. he was also well versed in the indian languages, spoke french with the greatest purity, and was a religious poet. many a pleasant hour have i spent in his company; but alas! he has gone the way of all the earth! the lost portfolio while i was at natchez, on the st of december, , my kind friend, nicholas berthoud, esq., proposed to me to accompany him in his keel-boat to new orleans. at one o'clock the steam-boat "columbus" hauled off from the landing and took our bark in tow. the steamer was soon ploughing along at full speed, and little else engaged our minds than the thought of our soon arriving at the emporium of the commerce of the mississippi. towards evening, however, several inquiries were made respecting particular portions of the luggage, among which ought to have been one of my portfolios, containing a number of drawings made by me while gliding down the ohio and mississippi from cincinnati to natchez, and of which some were to me peculiarly valuable, being of birds previously unfigured, and perhaps undescribed. the portfolio was nowhere to be found, and i recollected that i had brought it under my arm to the margin of the stream, and there left it to the care of one of my friend's servants, who, in the hurry of our departure, had neglected to take it on board. besides the drawings of birds, there was in this collection a sketch in black chalk to which i always felt greatly attached while from home. it is true the features which it represented were indelibly engraved in my heart; but the portrait of her to whom i owe so much of the happiness that i have enjoyed was not the less dear to me. when i thought during the following night of the loss i had sustained in consequence of my own negligence, imagined the possible fate of the collection, and saw it in the hands of one of the numerous boatmen lounging along the shores, who might paste the drawings to the walls of his cabin, nail them to the steering-oars of his flatboat, or distribute them among his fellows, i felt little less vexed than i did some years before when the rats, as you know, devoured a much larger collection. it was useless to fret myself, and so i began to devise a scheme for recovering the drawings. i wrote to mr. garnier and my venerable friend charles carré. mr. berthoud also wrote to a mercantile acquaintance. the letters were forwarded to natchez from the first landing-place at which we stopped, and in the course of time we reached the great eddy running by the levee, or artificial embankment, at new orleans. but before i present you with the answers to the letters sent to our acquaintances at natchez, allow me to offer a statement of our adventures upon the mississippi. after leaving the eddy at natchez, we passed a long file of exquisitely beautiful bluffs. at the end of twenty hours we reached bayou sara, where we found two brigs at anchor, several steamers, and a number of flatboats, the place being of considerable mercantile importance. here the "columbus" left us to shift for ourselves, her commander being anxious to get to baton rouge by a certain hour, in order to secure a good cargo of cotton. we now proceeded along the great stream, sometimes floating and sometimes rowing. the shores gradually became lower and flatter, orange-trees began to make their appearance around the dwellings of the wealthy planters, and the verdure along the banks assumed a brighter tint. the thermometer stood at ° in the shade at noon; butterflies fluttered among the flowers, of which many were in full blow; and we expected to have seen alligators half awake floating on the numberless logs that accompanied us in our slow progress. the eddies were covered with ducks of various kinds, more especially with the beautiful species that breeds by preference on the great sycamores that every now and then present themselves along our southern waters. baton rouge is a very handsome place, but at present i have no time to describe it. levees now began to stretch along the river, and wherever there was a sharp point on the shore, negroes were there amusing themselves by raising shrimps, and now and then a catfish, with scooping-nets. the river increased in breadth and depth, and the sawyers and planters, logs so called, diminished in number the nearer we drew towards the famed city. at every bend we found the plantations increased, and now the whole country on both sides became so level and destitute of trees along the water's edge that we could see over the points before us, and observe the great stream stretching along for miles. within the levees the land is much lower than the surface of the river when the water is high; but at this time we could see over the levee from the deck of our boat only the upper windows of the planters' houses, or the tops of the trees about them, and the melancholy-looking cypresses covered with spanish moss forming the background. persons rode along the levees at full speed; pelicans, gulls, vultures, and carrion crows sailed over the stream, and at times there came from the shore a breeze laden with the delicious perfume of the orange-trees, which were covered with blossoms and golden fruits. having passed bayou lafourche, our boat was brought to on account of the wind, which blew with violence. we landed, and presently made our way to the swamps, where we shot a number of those beautiful birds called boat-tailed grakles. the mocking-birds on the fence stakes saluted us with so much courtesy and with such delightful strains that we could not think of injuring them; but we thought it no harm to shoot a whole covey of partridges. in the swamps we met with warblers of various kinds, lively and beautiful, waiting in these their winter retreats for the moment when boreas should retire to his icy home, and the gentle gales of the south should waft them toward their breeding-places in the north. thousands of swallows flew about us, the cat-birds mewed in answer to their chatterings, the cardinal grosbeak elevated his glowing crest as he stood perched on the magnolia branch, the soft notes of the doves echoed among the woods, nature smiled upon us, and we were happy. on the fourth of january we stopped at bonnet carré, where i entered a house to ask some questions about birds. i was received by a venerable french gentleman, whom i found in charge of about a dozen children of both sexes, and who was delighted to hear that i was a student of nature. he was well acquainted with my old friend charles carré, and must, i thought, be a good man, for he said he never suffered any of his pupils to rob a bird of her eggs or young, although, said he with a smile, "they are welcome to peep at them and love them." the boys at once surrounded me, and from them i received satisfactory answers to most of my queries respecting birds. the th of january was so cold that the thermometer fell to °, and we had seen ice on the running-boards of our keel-boat. this was quite unlooked for, and we felt uncomfortable; but before the middle of the day, all nature was again in full play. several beautiful steamers passed us. the vegetation seemed not to have suffered from the frost; green peas, artichokes, and other vegetables were in prime condition. this reminds me that on one of my late journeys i ate green peas in december in the floridas, and had them once a week at least in my course over the whole of the union, until i found myself and my family feeding on the same vegetable more than a hundred miles to the north of the st. john's river in new brunswick. early on the th, thousands of tall spars, called masts by the mariners, came in sight; and as we drew nearer, we saw the port filled with ships of many nations, each bearing the flag of its country. at length we reached the levee, and found ourselves once more at new orleans. in a short time my companions dispersed, and i commenced a search for something that might tend to compensate me for the loss of my drawings. on the th of march following, i had the gratification of receiving a letter from mr. a. p. bodley, of natchez, informing me that my portfolio had been found and deposited at the office of the "mississippi republican," whence an order from me would liberate it. through the kindness of mr. garnier, i received it on the th of april. so very generous had been the finder of it, that when i carefully examined the drawings in succession, i found them all present and uninjured, save one, which had probably been kept by way of commission. the original painter as i was lounging one fair and very warm morning on the levee at new orleans, i chanced to observe a gentleman whose dress and other accompaniments greatly attracted my attention. i wheeled about, and followed him for a short space, when, judging by everything about him that he was a true original, i accosted him. but here, kind reader, let me give you some idea of his exterior. his head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of which might cope with those worn by the fair sex in ; his neck was exposed to the weather; the broad frill of a shirt, then fashionable, flapped about his breast, whilst an extraordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over the top of his coat. the latter was of a light green color, harmonizing well with a pair of flowing yellow nankeen trousers, and a pink waistcoat, from the bosom of which, amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the magnolia, protruded part of a young alligator, which seemed more anxious to glide through the muddy waters of some retired swamp than to spend its life swinging to and fro among folds of the finest lawn. the gentleman held in one hand a cage full of richly-plumed nonpareils, whilst in the other he sported a silk umbrella, on which i could plainly read, "stolen from i," these words being painted in large white characters. he walked as if conscious of his own importance--that is, with a good deal of pomposity, singing, "my love is but a lassie yet," and that with such thorough imitation of the scotch emphasis that had not his physiognomy brought to my mind a denial of his being from "within a mile of edinburgh," i should have put him down in my journal for a true scot. but no: his tournure, nay, the very shape of his visage, pronounced him an american from the farthest parts of our eastern atlantic shores. all this raised my curiosity to such a height that i accosted him with, "pray, sir, will you allow me to examine the birds you have in that cage?" the gentleman stopped, straightened his body, almost closed his left eye, then spread his legs apart, and, with a look altogether quizzical, answered, "birds, sir; did you say birds?" i nodded, and he continued, "what the devil do you know about birds, sir?" reader, this answer brought a blush into my face. i felt as if caught in a trap; for i was struck by the force of the gentleman's question--which, by the way, was not much in discordance with a not unusual mode of granting an answer in the united states. sure enough, thought i, little or perhaps nothing do i know of the nature of those beautiful denizens of the air; but the next moment vanity gave me a pinch, and urged me to conceive that i knew at least as much about birds as the august personage in my presence. "sir," replied i, "i am a student of nature, and admire her works, from the noblest figure of man to the crawling reptile which you have in your bosom."--"ah!" replied he, "a--a--a naturalist, i presume!"--"just so, my good sir," was my answer. the gentleman gave me the cage; and i observed, from the corner of one of my eyes, that his were cunningly inspecting my face. i examined the pretty finches as long as i wished, returned the cage, made a low bow, and was about to proceed on my walk, when this odd sort of being asked me a question quite accordant with my desire of knowing more of him: "will you come with me, sir? if you will, you shall see some more curious birds, some of which are from different parts of the world. i keep quite a collection." i assured him i should feel gratified, and accompanied him to his lodgings. we entered a long room, where, to my surprise, the first objects that attracted my attention were a large easel with a full-length unfinished portrait upon it, a table with palettes and pencils, and a number of pictures of various sizes placed along the walls. several cages containing birds were hung near the windows, and two young gentlemen were busily engaged in copying some finished portraits. i was delighted with all i saw. each picture spoke for itself: the drawing, the coloring, the handling, the composition, and the keeping--all proved, that, whoever was the artist, he certainly was possessed of superior talents. i did not know if my companion was the painter of the picture, but, as we say in america, i strongly guessed, and, without waiting any longer, paid him the compliments which i thought he fairly deserved. "ay," said he, "the world is pleased with my work. i wish i were so too; but time and industry are required, as well as talents, to make a good artist. if you will examine the birds, i'll to my labor." so saying, the artist took up his palette, and was searching for a rest-stick; but not finding the one with which he usually supported his hand, he drew the rod of a gun, and was about to sit, when he suddenly threw down his implements on the table, and, taking the gun, walked to me and asked if "i had ever seen a percussion-lock." i had not, for that improvement was not yet in vogue. he not only explained the superiority of the lock in question, but undertook to prove that it was capable of acting effectually under water. the bell was rung, a flat basin of water was produced, the gun was charged with powder, and the lock fairly immersed. the report terrified the birds, causing them to beat against the gilded walls of their prisons. i remarked this to the artist. he replied, "the devil take the birds!--more of them in the market; why, sir, i wish to show you that i am a marksman as well as a painter." the easel was cleared of the large picture, rolled to the further end of the room, and placed against the wall. the gun was loaded in a trice, and the painter, counting ten steps from the easel, and taking aim at the supporting-pin on the left, fired. the bullet struck the head of the wooden pin fairly, and sent the splinters in all directions. "a bad shot, sir," said this extraordinary person. "the ball ought to have driven the pin farther into the hole, but it struck on one side; i'll try at the hole itself." after reloading his piece, the artist took aim again, and fired. the bullet this time had accomplished its object, for it had passed through the aperture and hit the wall behind. "mr. ----, ring the bell and close the windows," said the painter, and, turning to me, continued, "sir, i will show you the _ne plus ultra_ of shooting." i was quite amazed, and yet so delighted that i bowed my assent. a servant having appeared, a lighted candle was ordered. when it arrived, the artist placed it in a proper position, and retiring some yards, put out the light with a bullet, in the manner which i have elsewhere in this volume described. when light was restored, i observed the uneasiness of the poor little alligator, as it strove to effect its escape from the artist's waistcoat. i mentioned this to him. "true, true," he replied. "i had quite forgot the reptile; he shall have a dram;" and unbuttoning his vest, unclasped a small chain, and placed the alligator in the basin of water on the table. perfectly satisfied with the acquaintance which i had formed with this renowned artist, i wished to withdraw, fearing i might inconvenience him by my presence. but my time was not yet come. he bade me sit down, and paying no more attention to the young pupils in the room than if they had been a couple of cabbages, said, "if you have leisure and will stay awhile, i will show you how i paint, and will relate to you an incident of my life which will prove to you how sadly situated an artist is at times." in full expectation that more eccentricities were to be witnessed, or that the story would prove a valuable one, even to a naturalist, who is seldom a painter, i seated myself at his side, and observed with interest how adroitly he transferred the colors from his glistening palette to the canvas before him. i was about to compliment him on his facility of touch, when he spoke as follows:-- "this is, sir, or, i ought to say rather, this will be the portrait of one of our best navy officers--a man as brave as cæsar, and as good a sailor as ever walked the deck of a seventy-four. do you paint, sir?" i replied, "not yet."--"not yet! what do you mean?"--"i mean what i say: i intend to paint as soon as i can draw better than i do at present."--"good," said he; "you are quite right. to draw is the first object; but, sir, if you should ever paint, and paint portraits, you will often meet with difficulties. for instance, the brave commodore of whom this is the portrait, although an excellent man at everything else, is the worst sitter i ever saw; and the incident i promised to relate to you, as one curious enough, is connected with his bad mode of sitting. sir, i forgot to ask if you would take any refreshment--a glass of wine, or--" i assured him i needed nothing more than his agreeable company, and he proceeded. "well, sir, the first morning that the commodore came to sit, he was in full uniform, and with his sword at his side. after a few moments of conversation, and when all was ready on my part, i bade him ascend this _throne_, place himself in the attitude which i contemplated, and assume an air becoming an officer of the navy. he mounted, placed himself as i had desired, but merely looked at me as if i had been a block of stone. i waited a few minutes, when, observing no change on his placid countenance, i ran the chalk over the canvas to form a rough outline. this done, i looked up to his face again, and opened a conversation which i thought would warm his warlike nature; but in vain. i waited and waited, talked and talked, until, my patience--sir, you must know i am not overburdened with phlegm--being almost run out, i rose, threw my palette and brushes on the floor, stamped, walking to and fro about the room, and vociferated such calumnies against our navy that i startled the good commodore. he still looked at me with a placid countenance, and, as he has told me since, thought i had lost my senses. but i observed him all the while, and, fully as determined to carry my point as he would be to carry off an enemy's ship, i gave my oaths additional emphasis, addressed him as a representative of the navy, and, steering somewhat clear of personal insult, played off my batteries against the craft. the commodore walked up to me, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and told me, in a resolute manner, that if i intended to insult the navy, he would instantly cut off my ears. his features exhibited all the spirit and animation of his noble nature, and as i had now succeeded in rousing the lion, i judged it time to retreat. so, changing my tone, i begged his pardon, and told him he now looked precisely as i wished to represent him. he laughed, and, returning to his seat, assumed a bold countenance. and now, sir, see the picture!" at some future period i may present you with other instances of the odd ways in which this admired artist gave animation to his sitters. for the present, kind reader, we shall leave him finishing the commodore, while we return to our proper studies. the cougar there is an extensive swamp in the section of the state of mississippi which lies partly in the choctaw territory. it commences at the borders of the mississippi, at no great distance from a chickasaw village situated near the mouth of a creek known by the name of vanconnah, and partly inundated by the swellings of several large bayous, the principal of which, crossing the swamp in its whole extent, discharges its waters not far from the mouth of the yazoo river. this famous bayou is called false river. the swamp of which i am speaking follows the windings of the yazoo, until the latter branches off to the northeast, and at this point forms the stream named cold water river, below which the yazoo receives the draining of another bayou inclining towards the northwest and intersecting that known by the name of false river at a short distance from the place where the latter receives the waters of the mississippi. this tedious account of the situation of the swamp is given with the view of pointing it out to all students of nature who may happen to go that way, and whom i would earnestly urge to visit its interior, as it abounds in rare and interesting productions,--birds, quadrupeds, and reptiles, as well as molluscous animals, many of which, i am persuaded, have never been described. in the course of one of my rambles, i chanced to meet with a squatter's cabin on the banks of the cold water river. in the owner of this hut, like most of those adventurous settlers in the uncultivated tracts of our frontier districts, i found a person well versed in the chase, and acquainted with the habits of some of the larger species of quadrupeds and birds. as he who is desirous of instruction ought not to disdain listening to any one who has knowledge to communicate, however humble may be his lot, or however limited his talents, i entered the squatter's cabin, and immediately opened a conversation with him respecting the situation of the swamp, and its natural productions. he told me he thought it the very place i ought to visit, spoke of the game which it contained, and pointed to some bear and deer skins, adding that the individuals to which they had belonged formed but a small portion of the number of those animals which he had shot within it. my heart swelled with delight, and on asking if he would accompany me through the great morass, and allow me to become an inmate of his humble but hospitable mansion, i was gratified to find that he cordially assented to all my proposals. so i immediately unstrapped my drawing materials, laid up my gun, and sat down to partake of the homely but wholesome fare intended for the supper of the squatter, his wife, and his two sons. the quietness of the evening seemed in perfect accordance with the gentle demeanor of the family. the wife and children, i more than once thought, seemed to look upon me as a strange sort of person, going about, as i told them i was, in search of birds and plants; and were i here to relate the many questions which they put to me in return for those i addressed to them, the catalogue would occupy several pages. the husband, a native of connecticut, had heard of the existence of such men as myself, both in our own country and abroad, and seemed greatly pleased to have me under his roof. supper over, i asked my kind host what had induced him to remove to this wild and solitary spot. "the people are growing too numerous now to thrive in new england," was his answer. i thought of the state of some parts of europe, and calculating the denseness of their population compared with that of new england, exclaimed to myself, "how much more difficult must it be for men to thrive in those populous countries!" the conversation then changed, and the squatter, his sons and myself, spoke of hunting and fishing until at length, tired, we laid ourselves down on pallets of bear skins, and reposed in peace on the floor of the only apartment of which the hut consisted. day dawned, and the squatter's call to his hogs, which, being almost in a wild state, were suffered to seek the greater portion of their food in the woods, awakened me. being ready dressed i was not long in joining him. the hogs and their young came grunting at the well known call of their owner, who threw them a few ears of corn, and counted them, but told me that for some weeks their number had been greatly diminished by the ravages committed upon them by a large _panther_, by which name the cougar is designated in america, and that the ravenous animal did not content himself with the flesh of his pigs, but now and then carried off one of his calves, notwithstanding the many attempts he had made to shoot it. the _painter_, as he sometimes called it, had on several occasions robbed him of a dead deer; and to these exploits the squatter added several remarkable feats of audacity which it had performed, to give me an idea of the formidable character of the beast. delighted by his description, i offered to assist him in destroying the enemy, at which he was highly pleased, but assured me that unless some of his neighbors should join us with their dogs and his own, the attempt would prove fruitless. soon after, mounting a horse, he went off to his neighbors several of whom lived at a distance of some miles, and appointed a day of meeting. the hunters, accordingly, made their appearance, one fine morning, at the door of the cabin, just as the sun was emerging from beneath the horizon. they were five in number, and fully equipped for the chase, being mounted on horses which in some parts of europe might appear sorry nags, but which in strength, speed, and bottom, are better fitted for pursuing a cougar or a bear through woods and morasses than any in that country. a pack of large, ugly curs were already engaged in making acquaintance with those of the squatter. he and myself mounted his two best horses, whilst his sons were bestriding others of inferior quality. few words were uttered by the party until we had reached the edge of the swamp, where it was agreed that all should disperse and seek for the fresh track of the painter, it being previously settled that the discoverer should blow his horn, and remain on the spot, until the rest should join him. in less than an hour, the sound of the horn was clearly heard, and, sticking close to the squatter, off we went through the thick woods, guided only by the now and then repeated call of the distant huntsmen. we soon reached the spot, and in a short time the rest of the party came up. the best dog was sent forward to track the cougar, and in a few moments the whole pack were observed diligently trailing, and bearing in their course for the interior of the swamp. the rifles were immediately put in trim, and the party followed the dogs, at separate distances, but in sight of each other, determined to shoot at no other game than the panther. the dogs soon began to mouth, and suddenly quickened their pace. my companion concluded that the beast was on the ground, and putting our horses to a gentle gallop, we followed the curs, guided by their voices. the noise of the dogs increased, when, all of a sudden their mode of barking became altered, and the squatter, urging me to push on, told me that the beast was _treed_, by which he meant that it had got upon some low branch of a large tree to rest for a few moments, and that should we not succeed in shooting him when thus situated, we might expect a long chase of it. as we approached the spot, we all by degrees united into a body, but on seeing the dogs at the foot of a large tree, separated again, and galloped off to surround it. each hunter now moved with caution, holding his gun ready, and allowing the bridle to dangle on the neck of his horse, as it advanced slowly towards the dogs. a shot from one of the party was heard, on which the cougar was seen to leap to the ground, and bound off with such velocity as to show that he was very unwilling to stand our fire longer. the dogs set off in pursuit with great eagerness and a deafening cry. the hunter who had fired came up and said that his ball had hit the monster, and had probably broken one of his fore-legs near the shoulder, the only place at which he could aim. a slight trail of blood was discovered on the ground, but the curs proceeded at such a rate that we merely noticed this, and put spurs to our horses, which galloped on towards the centre of the swamp. one bayou was crossed, then another still larger and more muddy; but the dogs were brushing forward, and as the horses began to pant at a furious rate, we judged it expedient to leave them and advance on foot. these determined hunters knew that the cougar being wounded, would shortly ascend another tree, where in all probability he would remain for a considerable time, and that it would be easy to follow the track of the dogs. we dismounted, took off the saddles and bridles, set the bells attached to the horses' necks at liberty to jingle, hoppled the animals, and left them to shift for themselves. now, kind reader, follow the group marching through the swamp, crossing muddy pools, and making the best of their way over fallen trees and amongst the tangled rushes that now and then covered acres of ground. if you are a hunter yourself, all this will appear nothing to you; but if crowded assemblies of "beauty and fashion," or the quiet enjoyment of your "pleasure grounds" alone delight you, i must mend my pen before i attempt to give you an idea of the pleasure felt on such an expedition. after marching for a couple of hours, we again heard the dogs. each of us pressed forward, elated at the thought of terminating the career of the cougar. some of the dogs were heard whining, although the greater number barked vehemently. we felt assured that the cougar was treed, and that he would rest for some time to recover from his fatigue. as we came up to the dogs, we discovered the ferocious animal lying across a large branch, close to the trunk of a cotton-wood tree. his broad breast lay towards us; his eyes were at one time bent on us and again on the dogs beneath and around him; one of his fore-legs hung loosely by his side, and he lay crouched, with his ears lowered close to his head, as if he thought he might remain undiscovered. three balls were fired at him, at a given signal, on which he sprang a few feet from the branch, and tumbled headlong to the ground. attacked on all sides by the enraged curs, the infuriated cougar fought with desperate valor; but the squatter, advancing in front of the party, and almost in the midst of the dogs, shot him immediately behind and beneath the left shoulder. the cougar writhed for a moment in agony, and in another lay dead. the sun was now sinking in the west. two of the hunters separated from the rest to procure venison, whilst the squatter's sons were ordered to make the best of their way home, to be ready to feed the hogs in the morning. the rest of the party agreed to camp on the spot. the cougar was despoiled of its skin, and its carcass left to the hungry dogs. whilst engaged in preparing our camp, we heard the report of a gun, and soon after one of our hunters returned with a small deer. a fire was lighted, and each hunter displayed his _pone_ of bread, along with a flask of whiskey. the deer was skinned in a trice, and slices placed on sticks before the fire. these materials afforded us an excellent meal, and as the night grew darker, stories and songs went round, until my companions, fatigued, laid themselves down, close under the smoke of the fire, and soon fell asleep. i walked for some minutes round the camp, to contemplate the beauties of that nature from which i have certainly derived my greatest pleasures. i thought of the occurrences of the day, and glancing my eye around, remarked the singular effects produced by the phosphorescent qualities of the large decayed trunks which lay in all directions around me. how easy, i thought, would it be for the confused and agitated mind of a person bewildered in a swamp like this, to imagine in each of these luminous masses some wondrous and fearful being, the very sight of which might make the hair stand erect on his head. the thought of being myself placed in such a predicament burst over my mind, and i hastened to join my companions, beside whom i laid me down and slept, assured that no enemy could approach us without first rousing the dogs, which were growling in fierce dispute over the remains of the cougar. at daybreak we left our camp, the squatter bearing on his shoulder the skin of the late destroyer of his stock, and retraced our steps until we found our horses, which had not strayed far from the place where we had left them. these we soon saddled, and jogging along, in a direct course, guided by the sun, congratulating each other on the destruction of so formidable a neighbor as the panther had been, we soon arrived at my host's cabin. the five neighbors partook of such refreshment as the house could afford, and dispersing, returned to their homes, leaving me to follow my favorite pursuits. the runaway never shall i forget the impression made on my mind by the _rencontre_ which forms the subject of this article, and i even doubt if the relation of it will not excite in that of my reader emotions of varied character. late in the afternoon of one of those sultry days which render the atmosphere of the louisiana swamps pregnant with baneful effluvia, i directed my course towards my distant home, laden with a pack, consisting of five or six wood ibises, and a heavy gun, the weight of which, even in those days, when my natural powers were unimpaired, prevented me from moving with much speed. reaching the banks of a miry bayou, only a few yards in breadth, but of which i could not ascertain the depth, on account of the muddiness of its waters, i thought it might be dangerous to wade through it with my burden, for which reason, throwing to the opposite side each of my heavy birds in succession, together with my gun, powder-flask, and shot-bag, and drawing my hunting-knife from its scabbard, to defend myself, if need should be, against alligators, i entered the water, followed by my faithful dog. as i advanced carefully, and slowly, "plato" swam around me, enjoying the refreshing influence of the liquid element that cooled his fatigued and heated frame. the water deepened, as did the mire of its bed; but with a stroke or two i gained the shore. scarcely had i stood erect on the opposite bank, when my dog ran to me, exhibiting marks of terror; his eyes seeming ready to burst from their sockets, and his mouth grinning with the expression of hatred, while his feelings found vent in a stifled growl. thinking that all this was produced by the scent of a wolf or bear, i stooped to take up my gun, when a stentorian voice commanded me to "stand still, or die!" such a _qui vive_ in these woods was as unexpected as it was rare. i instantly raised and cocked my gun; and although i did not yet perceive the individual who had thus issued so peremptory a mandate, i felt determined to combat with him for the free passage of the grounds. presently a tall, firmly built negro emerged from the bushy underwood, where until that moment he must have been crouched, and in a louder voice repeated his injunction. had i pressed a trigger, his life would have instantly terminated; but observing that the gun which he aimed at my breast, was a wretched, rusty piece, from which fire could not readily be produced, i felt little fear, and therefore did not judge it necessary to proceed at once to extremities. i laid my gun at my side, tapped my dog quietly, and asked the man what he wanted. my forbearance, and the stranger's long habit of submission, produced the most powerful effect on his mind. "master," said he, "i am a runaway; i might perhaps shoot you down; but god forbids it, for i feel just now as if i saw him ready to pass his judgment against me for such a foul deed, and i ask mercy at your hands. for god's sake, do not kill me, master!" "and why," answered i, "have you left your quarters, where certainly you must have fared better than in these unwholesome swamps?" "master, my story is a short, but a sorrowful one. my camp is close by, and, as i know you cannot reach home this night, if you will follow me there, depend upon _my honor_ you shall be safe until the morning, when i will carry your birds, if you choose, to the great road." the large, intelligent eyes of the negro, the complacency of his manners, and the tones of his voice, i thought invited me to venture; and as i felt that i was at least his equal, while moreover, i had my dog to second me, i answered that i would _follow him_. he observed the emphasis laid on the words, the meaning of which he seemed to understand so thoroughly that, turning to me, he said, "there, master, take my butcher's knife, while i throw away the flint and priming from my gun!" reader, i felt confounded: this was too much for me: i refused the knife, and told him to keep his piece ready, in case we might accidentally meet a cougar or a bear. generosity exists everywhere. the greatest monarch acknowledges its impulse, and all around him, from the lowliest menial to the proud nobles that encircle his throne, at times experience that overpowering sentiment. i offered to shake hands with the runaway. "master," said he, "i beg you thanks," and with this he gave me a squeeze that alike impressed me with the goodness of his heart and his great physical strength. from that moment we proceeded through the woods together. my dog smelt at him several times, but as he heard me speak in my usual tone of voice, he soon left us and rambled around as long as my whistle was unused. as we proceeded, i observed that he was guiding me towards the setting of the sun, and quite contrary to my homeward course. i remarked this to him, when he with the greatest simplicity replied, "merely for our security." after trudging along for some distance, and crossing several bayous, at all of which he threw his gun and knife to the opposite bank, and stood still until i had got over, we came to the borders of an immense cane-brake, from which i had, on former occasions, driven and killed several deer. we entered, as i had frequently done before, now erect, then on "all fours." he regularly led the way, divided here and there the tangled stalks, and, whenever we reached a fallen tree, assisted me in getting over it, with all possible care. i saw that he was a perfect indian in his knowledge of the woods, for he kept a direct course as precisely as any "red-skin" i ever travelled with. all of a sudden he emitted a loud shriek, not unlike that of an owl, which so surprised me, that i once more instantly levelled my gun. "no harm, master, i only give notice to my wife and children i am coming." a tremulous answer of the same nature gently echoed through the tree tops. the runaway's lips separated with an expression of gentleness and delight, when his beautiful set of ivory teeth seemed to smile through the dusk of evening that was thickening around us. "master," said he, "my wife, though black, is as beautiful to me as the president's wife is to him; she is my queen, and i look on our young ones as so many princes; but you shall see them all, for here they are, thank god." there, in the heart of the cane-brake, i found a regular camp. a small fire was lighted, and on its embers lay gridling some large slices of venison. a lad nine or ten years old was blowing the ashes from some fine sweet potatoes. various articles of household furniture were carefully disposed around, and a large pallet of bear and deer skins, seemed to be the resting-place of the whole family. the wife raised not her eyes towards mine, and the little ones, three in number, retired into a corner, like so many discomfited raccoons; but the runaway, bold, and apparently happy, spoke to them in such cheering words, that at once one and all seemed to regard me as one sent by providence to relieve them from all their troubles. my clothes were hung up by them to dry, and the negro asked if he might clean and grease my gun, which i permitted him to do, while the wife threw a large piece of deer's flesh to my dog, which the children were already caressing. only think of my situation, reader! here i was, ten miles at least from home, and four or five from the nearest plantation, in the camp of runaway slaves, and quite at their mercy. my eyes involuntarily followed their motions, but as i thought i perceived in them a strong desire to make me their confidant and friend, i gradually relinquished all suspicions. the venison and potatoes looked quite tempting, and by this time i was in a condition to relish much less savory fare; so, on being humbly asked to divide the viands before us, i partook of as hearty a meal as i had ever done in my life. supper over, the fire was completely extinguished, and a small lighted pine-knot placed in a hollowed calabash. seeing that both the husband and the wife were desirous of communicating something to me, i at once and fearlessly desired them to unburden their minds, when the runaway told me a tale of which the following is the substance. about eighteen months before, a planter, residing not very far off, having met with some losses, was obliged to expose his slaves at a public sale. the value of his negroes was well known, and on the appointed day the auctioneer laid them out in small lots, or offered them singly, in the manner which he judged most advantageous to their owner. the runaway, who was well known as being the most valuable next to his wife, was put up by himself for sale, and brought an immoderate price. for his wife, who came next, and alone, eight hundred dollars were bidden and paid down. then the children were exposed, and, on account of their breed, brought high prices. the rest of the slaves went off at rates corresponding to their qualifications. the runaway chanced to be bought by the overseer of the plantation; the wife was bought by an individual residing about a hundred miles off, and the children went to different places along the river. the heart of the husband and father failed him under this dire calamity. for a while he pined in sorrow under his new master; but having marked down in his memory the names of the different persons who had purchased each dear portion of his family, he feigned illness, if indeed, he whose affections had been so grievously blasted could be said to feign it, refrained from food for several days, and was little regarded by the overseer, who felt himself disappointed in what he had considered a bargain. on a stormy night, when the elements raged with all the fury of a hurricane, the poor negro made his escape, and being well acquainted with all the neighboring swamps, at once made directly for the cane-brake in the centre of which i found his camp. a few nights afterwards he gained the abode of his wife, and the very next after their meeting, he led her away. the children, one after another, he succeeded in stealing, until at last the whole of the objects of his love were under his care. to provide for five individuals was no easy task in those wilds, which after the first notice was given of the wonderful disappearance of this extraordinary family, were daily ransacked by armed planters. necessity, it is said, will bring the wolf from the forest. the runaway seems to have well understood the maxim, for under the cover of night he approached his first master's plantation, where he had ever been treated with the greatest kindness. the house-servants knew him too well not to aid him to the best of their power, and at the approach of each morning he returned to his camp with an ample supply of provisions. one day, while in search of wild fruits, he found a bear dead before the muzzle of a gun that had been set for the purpose. both articles he carried to his home. his friends at the plantation managed to supply him with some ammunition, and on damp and cloudy days he first ventured to hunt around his camp. possessed of courage and activity, he gradually became more careless, and rambled farther in search of game. it was on one of his excursions that i met him, and he assured me the noise which i made in passing the bayou had caused him to lose the chance of killing a fine deer, "although," said he, "my old musket misses fire sadly too often." the runaways, after disclosing their secret to me, both rose from their seat, with eyes full of tears. "good master, for god's sake, do something for us and our children," they sobbed forth with one accord. their little ones lay sound asleep in the fearlessness of their innocence. who could have heard such a tale without emotion? i promised them my most cordial assistance. they both sat up that night to watch my repose, and i slept close to their urchins, as if on a bed of the softest down. day broke so fair, so pure, and so gladdening that i told them such heavenly appearances were ominous of good, and that i scarcely doubted of obtaining their full pardon. i desired them to take their children with them, and promised to accompany them to the plantation of their first master. they gladly obeyed. my ibises were hung round their camp, and, as a memento of my having been there, i notched several trees; after which i bade adieu, perhaps for the last time, to that cane-brake. we soon reached the plantation, the owner of which, with whom i was well acquainted, received me with all the generous kindness of a louisiana planter. ere an hour had elapsed, the runaway and his family were looked upon as his own. he afterwards repurchased them from their owners, and treated them with his former kindness; so that they were rendered as happy as slaves generally are in that country, and continued to cherish that attachment to each other which had led to their adventures. since this event happened, it has, i have been informed, become illegal to separate slave families without their consent. a tough walk for a youth about twelve years ago i was conveyed, along with my son victor, from bayou sara to the mouth of the ohio, on board the steamer "magnet," commanded by mr. mcknight, to whom i here again offer my best thanks for his attentions. the very sight of the waters of that beautiful river filled me with joy as we approached the little village of trinity, where we were landed along with several other passengers, the water being too low to enable the vessel to proceed to louisville. no horses could be procured, and as i was anxious to continue my journey without delay, i consigned my effects to the care of the tavern-keeper, who engaged to have them forwarded by the first opportunity. my son, who was not fourteen, with all the ardor of youth, considered himself able to accomplish, on foot, the long journey which we contemplated. two of the passengers evinced a desire to accompany us, "provided," said the tallest and stoutest of them, "the lad can keep up. my business," he continued, "is urgent, and i shall push for frankfort pretty fast." dinner, to which we had contributed some fish from the river, being over, my boy and i took a ramble along the shores of cash creek, on which, some years before, i had been detained several weeks by ice. we slept at the tavern, and next morning prepared for our journey, and were joined by our companions, although it was past twelve before we crossed the creek. [illustration: victor gifford audubon. painted by audubon about .] one of our fellow-travellers, named rose, who was a delicate and gentlemanly person, acknowledged that he was not a good walker, and said he was glad that my son was with us, as he might be able to keep up with the lively youth. the other, a burly personage, at once pushed forwards. we walked in indian file along the narrow track cut through the canes, passed a wood-yard, and entered the burnt forest, in which we met with so many logs and briers that we judged it better to make for the river, the course of which we followed over a bed of pebbles, my son sometimes ahead, and again falling back, until we reached america, a village having a fine situation, but with a shallow approach to the shore. here we halted at the best house, as every traveller ought to do, whether pedestrian or equestrian, for he is there sure of being well treated, and will not have to pay more than in an inferior place. now we constituted mr. rose purser. we had walked twelve miles over rugged paths and pebbly shores, and soon proceeded along the edge of the river. seven tough miles ended, we found a house near the bank, and in it we determined to pass the night. the first person we met with was a woman picking cotton in a small field. on asking her if we might stay in her cabin for the night, she answered we might, and hoped we could make shift with the fare on which she and her husband lived. while she went to the house to prepare supper, i took my son and mr. rose to the water, knowing how much we should be refreshed by a bath. our fellow-traveller refused, and stretched himself on a bench by the door. the sun was setting; thousands of robins were flying southward in the calm and clear air; the ohio was spread before us smooth as a mirror, and into its waters we leaped with pleasure. in a short time the good man of the hut called us to supper, and in a trice we were at his heels. he was a tall, raw-boned fellow, with an honest, bronzed face. after our frugal meal we all four lay down on a large bed, spread on the floor, while the good people went up to a loft. the woodsman, having, agreeably to our instructions, roused us at daybreak, told us that about seven miles farther we should meet with a breakfast much better than the last supper we had. he refused any pecuniary compensation, but accepted from me a knife. so we again started. my dear boy appeared very weak at first, but soon recovered, and our stout companion, whom i shall call s., evidently showed symptoms of lassitude. on arriving at the cabin of a lazy man, blessed with an industrious wife and six healthy children, all of whom labored for his support, we were welcomed by the woman, whose motions and language indicated her right to belong to a much higher class. better breakfast i never ate: the bread was made of new corn, ground on a tin grater by the beautiful hands of our blue-eyed hostess; the chickens had been prepared by one of her lovely daughters; some good coffee was added, and my son had fresh milk. the good woman, who now held a babe to her bosom, seemed pleased to see how heartily we all ate; the children went to work, and the lazy husband went to the door to smoke a corn-cob pipe. a dollar was put into the ruddy hand of the chubby urchin, and we bade its mother farewell. again we trudged along the beach, but after a while betook ourselves to the woods. my son became faint. dear boy! never can i forget how he lay exhausted on a log, large tears rolling down his cheeks. i bathed his temples, spoke soothingly to him, and chancing to see a fine turkey cock run close by, directed his attention to it, when, as if suddenly refreshed, he got up and ran a few yards towards the bird. from that moment he seemed to acquire new vigor, and at length we reached wilcox's, where we stopped for the night. we were reluctantly received at the house, and had little attention paid to us, but we had a meal and went to bed. the sun rose in all its splendor, and the ohio reflected its ruddy beams. a finer view of that river can scarcely be obtained than that from the house which we were leaving. two miles through intricate woods brought us to belgrade, and having passed fort massacre, we halted and took breakfast. s. gave us to understand that the want of roads made travelling very unpleasant; he was not, he added, in the habit of "skulking through the bushes, or tramping over stony bars in the full sunshine;" but how else he had travelled was not explained. mr. rose kept up about as well as victor, and i now led the way. towards sunset we reached the shores of the river, opposite the mouth of the cumberland. on a hill, the property of a major b., we found a house, and a solitary woman, wretchedly poor, but very kind. she assured us that if we could not cross the river, she would give us food and shelter for the night, but said that, as the moon was up, she could get us put over when her skiff came back. hungry and fatigued, we laid us down on the brown grass, waiting either a scanty meal or the skiff that was to convey us across the river. i had already grated the corn for our supper, run down the chickens, and made a fire, when a cry of "boat coming!" roused us all. we crossed half of the ohio, walked over cumberland isle, and after a short ferry found ourselves in kentucky, the native land of my beloved sons. i was now within a few miles of the spot where, some years before, i had a horse killed under me by lightning. it is unnecessary to detain you with a long narrative, and state every occurrence till we reached the banks of green river. we had left trinity at twelve o'clock of the th of october, and on the morning of the th four travellers, descending a hill, were admiring the reflection of the sun's rays on the forest-margined horizon. the frost, which lay thick on the ground and the fences, glittered in the sheen, and dissolved away; all nature seemed beautiful in its calm repose; but the pleasure which i felt in gazing on the scene was damped by the fatigue of my son, who now limped like a lamed turkey, although, as the rest of the party were not much better off, he smiled, straightened himself, and strove to keep up with us. poor s. was panting many yards behind, and was talking of purchasing a horse. we had now, however, a tolerably good road, and in the evening got to a house, where i inquired if we could have a supper and beds. when i came out, victor was asleep on the grass, mr. rose looking at his sore toes, and s. just finishing a jug of monongahela. here we resolved that, instead of going by henderson, we should take a cut across to the right, and make direct for smith's ferry, by way of highland lick creek. next day we trudged along, but nothing very remarkable occurred excepting that we saw a fine black wolf, quite tame and gentle, the owner of which refused a hundred dollars for it. mr. rose, who was an engineer, and a man of taste, amused us with his flageolet, and frequently spoke of his wife, his children, and his fireside, which increased my good opinion of him. at an orchard we filled our pockets with october peaches, and when we came to trade water river we found it quite low. the acorns were already drifted on its shallows, and the wood ducks were running about picking them up. passing a flat bottom, we saw a large buffalo lick. where now are the bulls which erst scraped its earth away, bellowing forth their love or their anger? good mr. rose's feet became sorer and sorer each succeeding day; mr. s. at length nearly gave up; my son had grown brisker. the th was cloudy, and we dreaded rain, as we knew the country to be flat and clayey. in union county, we came to a large opening, and found the house of a justice, who led us kindly to the main road, and accompanied us for a mile, giving us excellent descriptions of brooks, woods, and barrens; notwithstanding which we should have been much puzzled, had not a neighbor on horseback engaged to show us the way. the rain now fell in torrents and rendered us very uncomfortable, but at length we reached highland lick, where we stumbled on a cabin, the door of which we thrust open, overturning a chair that had been placed behind it. on a dirty bed lay a man, a table with a journal or perhaps a ledger before him, a small cask in a corner near him, a brass pistol on a nail over his head, and a long spanish dagger by his side. he rose and asked what was wanted. "the way to a better place, the road to suggs's." "follow the road, and you'll get to his house in about five miles!" my party were waiting for me, warming themselves by the fires of the salt-kettles. the being i had seen was an overseer. by and by we crossed a creek; the country was hilly, clayey, and slippery; mr. s. was cursing, rose limped like a lame duck, but victor kept up like a veteran. another day, kind reader, and i shall for a while shut my journal. the morning of the st was beautiful; we had slept comfortably at suggs's, and we soon found ourselves on pleasant barrens, with an agreeable road. rose and s. were so nearly knocked up that they proposed to us to go on without them. we halted and talked a few minutes on the subject, when our companions stated their resolution to proceed at a slower pace. so we bade them adieu. i asked my son how he felt; he laughed and quickened his steps; and in a short time our former associates were left out of sight. in about two hours we were seated in the green river ferry-boat, with our legs hanging in the water. at smith's ferry this stream looks like a deep lake; and the thick cane on its banks, the large overhanging willows, and its dark, green waters, never fail to form a fine picture, more especially in the calm of an autumnal evening. mr. smith gave us a good supper, sparkling cider, and a comfortable bed. it was arranged that he should drive us to louisville in his dearborn; and so ended our walk of two hundred and fifty miles. should you wish to accompany us during the remainder of our journey i have only to refer you to the article "hospitality in the woods." hospitality in the woods hospitality is a virtue the exercise of which, although always agreeable to the stranger, is not always duly appreciated. the traveller who has acquired celebrity is not unfrequently received with a species of hospitality which is much alloyed by the obvious attention of the host to his own interest; and the favor conferred upon the stranger must have less weight when it comes mingled with almost interminable questions as to his perilous adventures. another receives hospitality at the hands of persons who, possessed of all the comforts of life, receive the way-worn wanderer with pomposity, lead him from one part of their spacious mansion to another, and bidding him good-night, leave him to amuse himself in his solitary apartment, because he is thought unfit to be presented to a party of friends. a third stumbles on a congenial spirit, who receives him with open arms, offers him servants, horses, perhaps even his purse, to enable him to pursue his journey, and parts from him with regret. in all these cases the traveller feels more or less under obligation, and is accordingly grateful. but, kind reader, the hospitality received from the inhabitant of the forest, who can offer only the shelter of his humble roof and the refreshment of his homely fare, remains more deeply impressed on the memory of the bewildered traveller than any other. this kind of hospitality i have myself frequently experienced in our woods, and now proceed to relate an instance of it. i had walked several hundred miles, accompanied by my son, then a stripling, and, coming upon a clear stream, observed a house on the opposite shore. we crossed in a canoe, and finding that we had arrived at a tavern, determined upon spending the night there. as we were both greatly fatigued, i made an arrangement with our host to be conveyed in a light jersey wagon a distance of a hundred miles, the period of our departure to be determined by the rising of the moon. fair cynthia, with her shorn beams, peeped over the forest about two hours before dawn, and our conductor, provided with a long twig of hickory, took his station in the fore-part of the wagon. off we went at a round trot, dancing in the cart like peas in a sieve. the road, which was just wide enough to allow us to pass, was full of deep ruts, and covered here and there with trunks and stumps, over all which we were hurried. our conductor, mr. flint, the landlord of the tavern, boasting of his perfect knowledge of the country, undertook to drive us by a short cut, and we willingly confided ourselves to his management. so we jogged along, now and then deviating to double the fallen timber. day commenced with promise of fine weather, but several nights of white frost having occurred, a change was expected. to our sorrow, the change took place long before we got to the road again. the rain fell in torrents; the thunder bellowed; the lightning blazed. it was now evening, but the storm had brought perfect night, black and dismal. our cart had no cover. cold and wet, we sat silent and melancholy, with no better expectation than that of passing the night under the little shelter the cart could afford us. to stop was considered worse than to proceed. so we gave the reins to the horses, with some faint hope that they would drag us out of our forlorn state. of a sudden the steeds altered their course, and soon after we perceived the glimmer of a faint light in the distance, and almost at the same moment heard the barking of dogs. our horses stopped by a high fence and fell a-neighing, while i hallooed at such a rate that an answer was speedily obtained. the next moment a flaming pine torch crossed the gloom, and advanced to the spot where we stood. the negro boy who bore it, without waiting to question us, enjoined us to follow the fence, and said that master had sent him to show the strangers to the house. we proceeded, much relieved, and soon reached the gate of a little yard, in which a small cabin was perceived. a tall, fine-looking young man stood in the open door, and desired us get out of the cart and walk in. we did so, when the following conversation took place. "a bad night this, strangers; how came you to be along the fence? you certainly must have lost your way, for there is no public road within twenty miles." "ay," answered mr. flint, "sure enough we lost our way; but, thank god! we have got to a house; and thank _you_ for your reception." "reception!" replied the woodsman; "no very great thing after all; you are all here safe, and that's enough. eliza," turning to his wife, "see about some victuals for the strangers, and you, jupiter," addressing the negro lad, "bring some wood and mend the fire. eliza, call the boys up, and treat the strangers the best way you can. come, gentlemen, pull off your wet clothes, and draw to the fire. eliza, bring some socks and a shirt or two." for my part, kind reader, knowing my countrymen as i do, i was not much struck at all this; but my son, who had scarcely reached the age of thirteen, drew near to me, and observed how pleasant it was to have met with such good people. mr. flint bore a hand in getting his horses put under a shed. the young wife was already stirring with so much liveliness that to have doubted for a moment that all she did was a pleasure to her would have been impossible. two negro lads made their appearance, looked at us for a moment, and going out, called the dogs. soon after the cries of the poultry informed us that good cheer was at hand. jupiter brought more wood, the blaze of which illumined the cottage. mr. flint and our host returned, and we already began to feel the comforts of hospitality. the woodsman remarked that it was a pity we had not chanced to come that day three weeks; "for," said he, "it was our wedding-day, and father gave us a good house-warming, and you might have fared better; but, however, if you can eat bacon and eggs, and a broiled chicken, you shall have that. i have no whiskey in the house, but father has some capital cider, and i'll go over and bring a keg of it." i asked how far off his father lived. "only three miles, sir, and i'll be back before eliza has cooked your supper." off he went accordingly, and the next moment the galloping of his horse was heard. the rain fell in torrents, and now i also became struck with the kindness of our host. to all appearance the united ages of the pair under whose roof we had found shelter did not exceed two score. their means seemed barely sufficient to render them comfortable, but the generosity of their young hearts had no limits. the cabin was new. the logs of which it was formed were all of the tulip-tree, and were nicely pared. every part was beautifully clean. even the coarse slabs of wood that formed the floor looked as if newly washed and dried. sundry gowns and petticoats of substantial homespun hung from the logs that formed one of the sides of the cabin, while the other was covered with articles of male attire. a large spinning-wheel, with rolls of wool and cotton, occupied one corner. in another was a small cupboard, containing the little stock of new dishes, cups, plates, and tin pans. the table was small also, but quite new, and as bright as polished walnut could be. the only bed that i saw was of domestic manufacture, and the counterpane proved how expert the young wife was at spinning and weaving. a fine rifle ornamented the chimney-piece. the fireplace was of such dimensions that it looked as if it had been purposely constructed for holding the numerous progeny expected to result from the happy union. the black boy was engaged in grinding some coffee. bread was prepared by the fair hands of the bride, and placed on a flat board in front of the fire. the bacon and eggs already murmured and spluttered in the frying-pan, and a pair of chickens puffed and swelled on a gridiron over the embers, in front of the hearth. the cloth was laid, and everything arranged, when the clattering of hoofs announced the return of the husband. in he came, bearing a two-gallon keg of cider. his eyes sparkled with pleasure as he said, "only think, eliza; father wanted to rob us of the strangers, and was for coming here to ask them to his own house, just as if we could not give them enough ourselves; but here's the drink. come, gentlemen, sit down and help yourselves." we did so, and i, to enjoy the repast, took a chair of the husband's making, in preference to one of those called _windsor_, of which there were six in the cabin. this chair was bottomed with a piece of deer's skin tightly stretched, and afforded a very comfortable seat. the wife now resumed her spinning, and the husband filled a jug with the sparkling cider, and, seated by the blazing fire, was drying his clothes. the happiness he enjoyed beamed from his eye, as at my request he proceeded to give us an account of his affairs and prospects, which he did in the following words: "i shall be twenty-two next christmas-day," said our host. "my father came from virginia when young, and settled on the large tract of land where he yet lives, and where with hard working he has done well. there were nine children of us. most of them are married and settled in the neighborhood. the old man has divided his lands among some of us, and bought others for the rest. the land where i am he gave me two years ago, and a finer piece is not easily to be found. i have cleared a couple of fields, and planted an orchard. father gave me a stock of cattle, some hogs, and four horses, with two negro boys. i camped here for most of the time when clearing and planting; and when about to marry the young woman you see at the wheel, father helped me in raising this hut. my wife, as luck would have it, had a negro also, and we have begun the world as well off as most folks, and, the lord willing, may--but, gentlemen, you don't eat; do help yourselves. eliza, maybe the strangers would like some milk." the wife stopped her work, and kindly asked if we preferred sweet or sour milk; for you must know, reader, that sour milk is by some of our farmers considered a treat. both sorts were produced, but, for my part, i chose to stick to the cider. supper over, we all neared the fire, and engaged in conversation. at length our kind host addressed his wife as follows: "eliza, the gentlemen would like to lie down, i guess. what sort of bed can you fix for them?" eliza looked up with a smile, and said: "why, willy, we will divide the bedding, and arrange half on the floor, on which we can sleep very well, and the gentlemen will have the best we can spare them." to this arrangement i immediately objected, and proposed lying on a blanket by the fire; but neither willy nor eliza would listen. so they arranged a part of their bedding on the floor, on which, after some debate, we at length settled. the negroes were sent to their own cabin, the young couple went to bed, and mr. flint lulled us all asleep with a long story intended to show us how passing strange it was that he should have lost his way. "tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," and so forth. but aurora soon turned her off. mr. speed, our host, rose, went to the door, and returning assured us that the weather was too bad for us to attempt proceeding. i really believe he was heartily glad of it; but anxious to continue our journey, i desired mr. flint to see about his horses. eliza by this time was up too, and i observed her whispering to her husband, when he immediately said aloud, "to be sure, the gentlemen will eat breakfast before they go, and i will show them the way to the road." excuses were of no avail. breakfast was prepared and eaten. the weather brightened a little, and by nine we were under way. willy, on horseback, headed us. in a few hours our cart arrived at a road, by following which we at length got to the main one, and parted from our woodsman with the greater regret that he would accept nothing from any of us. on the contrary, telling mr. flint, with a smile, that he hoped he might some time again follow the longest track for a short cut, he bade us adieu, and trotted back to his fair eliza and his happy home. niagara after wandering on some of our great lakes for many months, i bent my course towards the celebrated falls of niagara, being desirous of taking a sketch of them. this was not my first visit to them, and i hoped it should not be the last. artists (i know not if i can be called one) too often imagine that what they produce must be excellent, and with that foolish idea go on spoiling much paper and canvas, when their time might have been better employed in a different manner. but, digressions aside, i directed my steps towards the falls of niagara, with the view of representing them on paper, for the amusement of my family. returning as i then was from a tedious journey, and possessing little more than some drawings of rare birds and plants, i reached the tavern at niagara falls in such plight as might have deterred many an individual from obtruding himself upon a circle of well-clad and perhaps well-bred society. months had passed since the last of my linen had been taken from my body, and used to clean that useful companion, my gun. i was in fact covered just like one of the poorer class of indians, and was rendered even more disagreeable to the eye of civilized man by not having, like them, plucked my beard, or trimmed my hair in any way. had hogarth been living, and there when i arrived, he could not have found a fitter subject for a robinson crusoe. my beard covered my neck in front, my hair fell much lower at my back, the leather dress which i wore had for months stood in need of repair, a large knife hung at my side, a rusty tin-box containing my drawings and colors, and wrapped up in a worn-out blanket that had served me for a bed, was buckled to my shoulders. to every one i must have seemed immersed in the depths of poverty, perhaps of despair. nevertheless, as i cared little about my appearance during those happy rambles, i pushed into the sitting-room, unstrapped my little burden, and asked how soon breakfast would be ready. in america, no person is ever refused entrance to the inns, at least far from cities. we know too well how many poor creatures are forced to make their way from other countries in search of employment or to seek uncultivated land, and we are ever ready to let them have what they may call for. no one knew who i was, and the landlord, looking at me with an eye of close scrutiny, answered that breakfast would be on the table as soon as the company should come down from their rooms. i approached this important personage, told him of my avocations, and convinced him that he might feel safe as to remuneration. from this moment i was, with him at least, on equal footing with every other person in his house. he talked a good deal of the many artists who had visited the falls that season, from different parts, and offered to assist me by giving such accommodations as i might require to finish the drawings i had in contemplation. he left me, and as i looked about the room i saw several views of the falls, by which i was so disgusted that i suddenly came to my better senses. "what!" thought i, "have i come here to mimic nature in her grandest enterprise, and add _my_ caricature of one of the wonders of the world to those which i here see? no; i give up the vain attempt. i shall look on these mighty cataracts and imprint them, where alone they can be represented--on my mind!" had i taken a view, i might as well have given you what might be termed a regular account of the form, the height, the tremendous roar of these falls; might have spoken of people perilling their lives by going between the rock and the sheet of water, calculated the density of the atmosphere in that strange position, related wondrous tales of indians and their canoes having been precipitated the whole depth--might have told of the narrow, rapid, and rockbound river that leads the waters of the erie into those of ontario, remarking _en passant_ the devil's hole and sundry other places or objects. but, supposing you had been there, my description would prove useless, and quite as puny as my intended view would have been for my family; and should you not have seen them, and are fond of contemplating the more magnificent of the creator's works, go to niagara, reader; for all the pictures you may see, all the descriptions you may read, of these mighty falls, can only produce in your mind the faint glimmer of a glow-worm compared with the overpowering glory of the meridian sun. i breakfasted amid a crowd of strangers, who gazed and laughed at me, paid my bill, rambled about and admired the falls for a while, saw several young gentlemen _sketching on cards_ the mighty mass of foaming waters, and walked to buffalo, where i purchased new apparel and sheared my beard. i then enjoyed civilized life as much as, a month before, i had enjoyed the wildest solitudes and the darkest recesses of mountain and forest. meadville the incidents that occur in the life of a student of nature are not all of the agreeable kind; in proof of which i shall present you, good reader, with an extract from one of my journals. my money was one day stolen from me, by a person who perhaps imagined that to a naturalist it was of little importance. this happened on the shores of upper canada. the affair was as unexpected as it well could be, and as adroitly managed as if it had been planned and executed in cheapside. to have repined when the thing could not be helped would certes not have been acting manfully. i therefore told my companion to keep a good heart, for i felt satisfied that providence had some relief in store for us. the whole amount of cash left with two individuals fifteen hundred miles from home was just seven dollars and a half. our passage across the lake had fortunately been paid for. we embarked and soon got to the entrance of presque isle harbor, but could not pass the bar, on account of a violent gale which came on as we approached it. the anchor was dropped, and we remained on board during the night, feeling at times very disagreeable, under the idea of having taken so little care of our money. how long we might have remained at anchor i cannot tell, had not that providence on whom i have never ceased to rely come to our aid. through some means to me quite unknown, captain judd, of the u.s. navy, then probably commandant at presque isle, sent a gig with six men to our relief. it was on the th of august, , and never shall i forget that morning. my drawings were put into the boat with the greatest care. we shifted into it, and seated ourselves according to directions politely given us. our brave fellows pulled hard, and every moment brought us nearer to the american shore. i leaped upon it with elated heart. my drawings were safely landed, and for anything else i cared little at the moment. i searched in vain for the officer of our navy, to whom i still feel grateful, and gave one of our dollars to the sailors to drink the "freedom of the waters;" after which we betook ourselves to a humble inn to procure bread and milk, and consider how we were to proceed. our plans were soon settled, for to proceed was decidedly the best. our luggage was rather heavy, so we hired a cart to take it to meadville, for which we offered five dollars. this sum was accepted, and we set off. the country through which we passed might have proved favorable to our pursuits, had it not rained nearly the whole day. at night we alighted and put up at a house belonging to our conductor's father. it was sunday night. the good folks had not yet returned from a distant meeting-house, the grandmother of our driver being the only individual about the premises. we found her a cheerful dame, who bestirred herself as actively as age would permit, got up a blazing fire to dry our wet clothes, and put as much bread and milk on the table as might have sufficed for several besides ourselves. being fatigued by the jolting of the cart, we asked for a place in which to rest, and were shown into a room in which were several beds. we told the good woman that i should paint her portrait next morning for the sake of her children. my companion and myself were quickly in bed, and soon asleep, in which state we should probably have remained till morning, had we not been awakened by a light, which we found to be carried by three young damsels, who, having observed where we lay, blew it out, and got into a bed opposite to ours. as we had not spoken, it is probable the girls supposed us sound asleep, and we heard them say how delighted they would be to have their portraits taken, as well as that of their grandmother. my heart silently met their desire, and we fell asleep without further disturbance. in our backwoods it is frequently the case that one room suffices for all the members of a family. day dawned, and as we were dressing we discovered that we were alone in the apartment, the good country girls having dressed in silence, and left us before we had awakened. we joined the family and were kindly greeted. no sooner had i made known my intentions as to the portraits than the young folks disappeared, and soon after returned attired in their sunday clothes. the black chalk was at work in a few minutes, to their great delight, and as the fumes of the breakfast that was meantime preparing reached my sensitive nose, i worked with redoubled ardor. the sketches were soon finished, and soon too was the breakfast over. i played a few airs on my flageolet, while our guide was putting the horses to the cart, and by ten o'clock we were once more under way towards meadville. never shall i forget maxon randell and his hospitable family. my companion was as pleased as myself, and as the weather was now beautiful we enjoyed our journey with all that happy thoughtlessness best suited to our character. the country now became covered with heavy timber, principally evergreens, the pines and the cucumber trees loaded with brilliant fruits, and the spruces throwing a shade over the land in good keeping for a mellow picture. the lateness of the crops was the only disagreeable circumstance that struck us; hay was yet standing, probably, however, a second crop; the peaches were quite small and green, and a few persons here and there, as we passed the different farms, were reaping oats. at length we came in sight of french creek, and soon after reached meadville. here we paid the five dollars promised to our conductor, who instantly faced about, and applying the whip to his nags, bade us adieu, and set off. we had now only one hundred and fifty cents. no time was to be lost. we put our baggage and ourselves under the roof of a tavern keeper known by the name of j. e. smith, at the sign of the traveller's rest, and soon after took a walk to survey the little village that was to be laid under contribution for our further support. its appearance was rather dull, but, thanks to god, i have never despaired while rambling thus for the sole purpose of admiring his grand and beautiful works. i had opened the case that contained my drawings, and putting my portfolio under my arm, and a few good credentials in my pocket, walked up main street, looking to the right and left, examining the different _heads_ which occurred, until i fixed my eyes on a gentleman in a store who looked as if he might want a sketch. i begged him to allow me to sit down. this granted, i remained purposely silent until he very soon asked me what was "_in that portfolio_." these three words sounded well, and without waiting another instant, i opened it to his view. this was a hollander, who complimented me much on the execution of the drawings of birds and flowers in my portfolio. showing him a sketch of the best friend i have in the world at present, i asked him if he would like one in the same style of himself. he not only answered in the affirmative, but assured me that he would exert himself in procuring as many more customers as he could. i thanked him, be assured, kind reader; and having fixed upon the next morning for drawing the sketch, i returned to the traveller's rest, with a hope that to-morrow might prove propitious. supper was ready, and as in america we generally have but one sort of _table d'hôte_, we sat down, when, every individual looking upon me as a missionary priest, on account of my hair, which in those days flowed loosely on my shoulders, i was asked to say grace, which i did with a fervent spirit. daylight returned. i visited the groves and woods around with my companion, returned, breakfasted, and went to the store, where, notwithstanding my ardent desire to begin my task, it was ten o'clock before the sitter was ready. but, reader, allow me to describe the _artist's room_. see me ascending a crazy flight of steps, from the back part of a store room into a large garret extending over the store and counting room, and mark me looking round to see how the light could be stopped from obtruding on me through no less than four windows facing each other at right angles. then follow me scrutinizing the corners, and finding in one a cat nursing her young among a heap of rags intended for the paper mill. two hogsheads filled with oats, a parcel of dutch toys carelessly thrown on the floor, a large drum and a bassoon in another part, fur caps hanging along the wall, and the portable bed of the merchant's clerk swinging like a hammock near the centre, together with some rolls of sole leather, made up the picture. i saw all this at a glance, and closing the extra windows with blankets, i soon procured a _painter's light_. a young gentleman sat to try my skill. i finished his phiz, which was approved of. the merchant then took the chair, and i had the good fortune to please him also. the room became crowded with the gentry of the village. some laughed, while others expressed their wonder; but my work went on, notwithstanding the observations which were made. my sitter invited me to spend the evening with him, which i did, and joined him in some music on the flute and violin. i returned to my companion with great pleasure, and you may judge how much that pleasure was increased when i found that he also had made two sketches. having written a page or two of our journals, we retired to rest. the following day was spent much in the same manner. i felt highly gratified that from under my gray coat my talents had made their way, and i was pleased to discover that industry and moderate abilities prove at least as valuable as first-rate talents without the former of these qualities. we left meadville on foot, having forwarded our baggage by wagon. our hearts were light, our pockets replenished, and we walked in two days to pittsburgh, as happy as circumstances permitted us to be. the burning of the forests. with what pleasure have i seated myself by the blazing fire of some lonely cabin, when, faint with fatigue, and chilled with the piercing blast, i had forced my way to it through the drifted snows that covered the face of the country as with a mantle. the affectionate mother is hushing her dear babe to repose, while a group of sturdy children surround their father, who has just returned from the chase, and deposited on the rough flooring of his hut the varied game which he has procured. the great back-log, that with some difficulty has been rolled into the ample chimney, urged, as it were, by lighted pieces of pine, sends forth a blaze of light over the happy family. the dogs of the hunter are already licking away the trickling waters of the thawing icicles that sparkle over their shaggy coats, and the comfort-loving cat is busied in passing her furry paws over each ear, or with her rough tongue smoothing her glossy coat. how delightful to me has it been when, kindly received and hospitably treated under such a roof, by persons whose means were as scanty as their generosity was great, i have entered into conversation with them respecting subjects of interest to me, and received gratifying information. when the humble but plentiful repast was ended, the mother would take from the shelf the book of books, and mildly request the attention of her family, while the father read aloud a chapter. then to heaven would ascend their humble prayers, and a good-night would be bidden to all friends far and near. how comfortably have i laid my wearied frame on the buffalo hide, and covered me with the furry skin of some huge bear! how pleasing have been my dreams of home and happiness, as i there lay, secure from danger and sheltered from the inclemency of the weather. i recollect that once while in the state of maine, i passed such a night as i have described. next morning the face of nature was obscured by the heavy rains that fell in torrents, and my generous host begged me to remain, in such pressing terms that i was well content to accept his offer. breakfast over, the business of the day commenced; the spinning-wheels went round, and the boys employed themselves, one in searching for knowledge, another in attempting to solve some ticklish arithmetical problem. in a corner lay the dogs, dreaming of plunder, while close to the ashes stood grimalkin, seriously purring in concert with the wheels. the hunter and i seated ourselves each on a stool, while the matron looked after her domestic arrangements. "puss," quoth the dame, "get away; you told me last night of this day's rain, and i fear you may now give us worse news with tricky paws." puss accordingly went off, leaped on a bed, and rolling herself in a ball, composed herself for a comfortable nap. i asked the husband what his wife meant by what she had just said. "the good woman," said he, "has some curious notions at times, and she believes, i think, in the ways of animals of all kinds. now, her talk to the cat refers to the fires of the woods around us, and although they have happened long ago, she fears them quite as much as ever, and, indeed, she and i and all of us have good reason to dread them, as they have brought us many calamities." having read of the great fires to which my host alluded, and frequently observed with sorrow the mournful state of the forests, i felt anxious to know something of the causes by which these direful effects had been produced. i therefore requested him to give me an account of the events resulting from those fires which he had witnessed. willingly he at once went on, nearly as follows:-- "about twenty-five years ago the larch, or hackmatack, trees were nearly all killed by insects. this took place in what hereabouts is called the 'black soft growth' land, that is, the spruce, pine, and all other firs. the destruction of the trees was effected by the insects cutting the leaves, and you must know that, although other trees are not killed by the loss of their leaves, the evergreens always are. some few years after this destruction of the larch, the same insects attacked the spruces, pines, and other firs, in such a manner that, before half a dozen years were over, they began to fall, and, tumbling in all directions, they covered the whole country with matted masses. you may suppose that when partially dried or seasoned, they would prove capital fuel, as well as supplies for the devouring flames, which accidentally, or perhaps by intention, afterwards raged over the country, and continued burning at intervals for years, in many places stopping all communication by the roads; the resinous nature of the firs being of course best fitted to insure and keep up the burning of the deep beds of dry leaves or of the other trees." here i begged him to give me some idea of the form of the insects which had caused such havoc. "the insects," said he, "were, in their caterpillar form, about three quarters of an inch in length, and as green as the leaves of the trees they fed on, when they committed their ravages. i must tell you also that, in most of the places over which the fire passed, a new growth of wood has already sprung up, of what we lumberers call hard wood, which consists of all other sorts but pine or fir; and i have always remarked that wherever the first natural growth of a forest is destroyed, either by the axe, the hurricane, or the fire, there springs up spontaneously another of quite a different kind." i again stopped my host to inquire if he knew the method or nature of the first kindling of the fires. "why, sir," said he, "there are different opinions about this. many believe that the indians did it, either to be the better able to kill the game, or to punish their enemies the pale-faces. my opinion, however, is different; and i derive it from my experience in the woods as a lumberer. i have always thought that the fires began by the accidental fall of a dry trunk against another, when their rubbing together, especially as many of them are covered with resin, would produce fire. the dry leaves on the ground are at once kindled, next the twigs and branches, when nothing but the intervention of the almighty could stop the progress of the fire. "in some instances, owing to the wind, the destructive element approached the dwellings of the inhabitants of the woods so rapidly that it was difficult for them to escape. in some parts, indeed, hundreds of families were obliged to flee from their homes, leaving all they had behind them, and here and there some of the affrighted fugitives were burnt alive." at this moment a rush of wind came down the chimney, blowing the blaze of the fire towards the room. the wife and daughter, imagining for a moment that the woods were again on fire, made for the door, but the husband explaining the cause of their terror, they resumed their work. "poor things," said the lumberer, "i dare say that what i have told you brings sad recollections to the minds of my wife and eldest daughter, who, with myself, had to fly from our home, at the time of the great fires." i felt so interested in his relation of the causes of the burnings that i asked him to describe to me the particulars of his misfortunes at the time. "if prudence and polly," said he, looking towards his wife and daughter, "will promise to sit still should another puff of smoke come down the chimney, i will do so." the good-natured smile with which he made this remark elicited a return from the women and he proceeded:-- "it is a difficult thing, sir, to describe, but i will do my best to make your time pass pleasantly. we were sound asleep one night in a cabin about a hundred miles from this, when, about two hours before day, the snorting of the horses and lowing of the cattle which i had ranging in the woods suddenly awakened us. i took yon rifle and went to the door, to see what beast had caused the hubbub, when i was struck by the glare of light reflected on all the trees before me, as far as i could see through the woods. my horses were leaping about, snorting loudly, and the cattle ran among them with their tails raised straight over their backs. on going to the back of the house, i plainly heard the crackling made by the burning brushwood, and saw the flames coming towards us in a far extended line. i ran to the house, told my wife to dress herself and the child as quick as possible, and take the little money we had, while i managed to catch and saddle the two best horses. all this was done in a very short time, for i guessed that every moment was precious to us. "we then mounted, and made off from the fire. my wife, who is an excellent rider, stuck close to me; my daughter, who was then a small child, i took in one arm. when making off as i said, i looked back and saw that the frightful blaze was close upon us, and had already laid hold of the house. by good luck, there was a horn attached to my hunting-clothes, and i blew it, to bring after us, if possible, the remainder of my live stock, as well as the dogs. the cattle followed for a while; but, before an hour had elapsed, they all ran as if mad through the woods, and that, sir, was the last of them. my dogs, too, although at other times extremely tractable, ran after the deer that in bodies sprung before us, as if fully aware of the death that was so rapidly approaching. "we heard blasts from the horns of our neighbors as we proceeded, and knew that they were in the same predicament. intent on striving to the utmost to preserve our lives, i thought of a large lake some miles off, which might possibly check the flames; and, urging my wife to whip up her horse, we set off at full speed, making the best way we could over the fallen trees and brush-heaps, which lay like so many articles placed on purpose to keep up the terrific fires that advanced with a broad front upon us. "by this time we could feel the heat; and we were afraid that our horses would drop every instant. a singular kind of breeze was passing over our heads, and the glare of the atmosphere shone over the daylight. i was sensible of a slight faintness, and my wife looked pale. the heat had produced such a flush in the child's face that when she turned towards either of us, our grief and perplexity were greatly increased. ten miles, you know, are soon gone over on swift horses; but, notwithstanding this, when we reached the borders of the lake, covered with sweat and quite exhausted, our hearts failed us. the heat of the smoke was insufferable, and sheets of blazing fire flew over us in a manner beyond belief. we reached the shores, however, coasted the lake for a while, and got round to the lee side. there we gave up our horses, which we never saw again. down among the rushes we plunged by the edge of the water, and laid ourselves flat, to wait the chance of escaping from being burnt or devoured. the water refreshed us, and we enjoyed the coolness. "on went the fire, rushing and crashing through the woods. such a sight may we never see! the heavens, themselves, i thought were frightened, for all above us was a red glare mixed with clouds of smoke, rolling and sweeping away. our bodies were cool enough, but our heads were scorching, and the child, who now seemed to understand the matter, cried so as nearly to break our hearts. "the day passed on, and we became hungry. many wild beasts came plunging into the water beside us, and others swam across to our side and stood still. although faint and weary, i managed to shoot a porcupine, and we all tasted its flesh. the night passed, i cannot tell you how. smouldering fires covered the ground, and trees stood like pillars of fire, or fell across each other. the stifling and sickening smoke still rushed over us, and the burnt cinders and ashes fell thick about us. how we got through that night i really cannot tell, for about some of it i remember nothing." here the hunter paused, and took breath. the recital of his adventure seemed to have exhausted him. his wife proposed that we should have a bowl of milk, and the daughter having handed it to us, we each took a draught. "now," said he, "i will proceed. towards morning, although the heat did not abate, the smoke became less, and blasts of fresh air sometimes made their way to us. when morning came, all was calm, but a dismal smoke still filled the air, and the smell seemed worse than ever. we were now cooled enough, and shivered as if in an ague fit; so we removed from the water, and went up to a burning log, where we warmed ourselves. what was to become of us, i did not know. my wife hugged the child to her breast, and wept bitterly; but god had preserved us through the worst of the danger, and the flames had gone past, so i thought it would be both ungrateful to him and unmanly to despair now. hunger once more pressed upon us, but this was easily remedied. several deer were still standing in the water, up to the head, and i shot one of them. some of its flesh was soon roasted; and after eating it we felt wonderfully strengthened. "by this time the blaze of the fire was beyond our sight, although the ground was still burning in many places, and it was dangerous to go among the burnt trees. after resting awhile, and trimming ourselves, we prepared to commence our march. taking up the child, i led the way over the hot ground and rocks; and, after two weary days and nights, during which we shifted in the best manner we could, we at last reached the 'hard woods' which had been free of the fire. soon after we came to a house, where we were kindly treated for a while. since then, sir, i have worked hard and constantly as a lumberer; but, thanks be to god, here we are safe, sound, and happy!" a long calm at sea on the th of may, , i left new orleans on board the ship "delos," commanded by joseph hatch, esq., of kennebunk, bound for liverpool. the steamer "hercules," which towed the ship, left us several miles outside of the balize, about ten hours after our departure; but there was not a breath of wind, the waters were smoother than the prairies of the opelousas, and notwithstanding our great display of canvas, we lay like a dead whale, floating at the mercy of the currents. the weather was uncommonly fair, and the heat excessive; and in this helpless state we continued for many days. about the end of a week we had lost sight of the balize, although i was assured by the commander that all this while the ship had rarely answered the helm. the sailors whistled for wind, and raised their hands in all directions, anxious as they were to feel some motion in the air; but all to no purpose; it was a dead calm, and we concluded that "Æolus" had agreed with "neptune" to detain us, until our patience should be fairly tried, or our sport exhausted; for sport we certainly had, both on board and around the ship. i doubt if i can better contribute to your amusement at present than by giving you a short account of the occurrences that took place during this sleepy fit of the being on whom we depended for our progress toward merry england. vast numbers of beautiful dolphins glided by the side of the vessel, glancing like burnished gold through the day, and gleaming like meteors by night. the captain and his mates were expert at alluring them with baited hooks, and not less so at piercing them with five-pronged instruments, which they called grains; and i was delighted with the sport, because it afforded me an opportunity of observing and noting some of the habits of this beautiful fish, as well as several other kinds. on being hooked, the dolphin flounces vigorously, shoots off with great impetuosity to the very end of the line, when, being suddenly checked, it often rises perpendicularly several feet out of the water, shakes itself violently in the air, gets disentangled, and thus escapes. but when well secured, it is held in play for a while by the experienced fisher, soon becomes exhausted, and is hauled on board. some persons prefer pulling them in at once, but they seldom succeed, as the force with which the fish shakes itself on being raised out of the water is generally sufficient to enable it to extricate itself. dolphins move in shoals, varying from four or five to twenty or more, hunting in packs in the waters, as wolves pursue their prey on land. the object of their pursuit is generally the flying-fish, now and then the bonita; and when nothing better can be had, they will follow the little rudder-fish, and seize it immediately under the stern of the ship. the flying-fishes after having escaped for a while by dint of their great velocity, on being again approached by the dolphin, emerge from the waters, and spreading their broad wing-like fins, sail through the air and disperse in all directions, like a covey of timid partridges before the rapacious falcon. some pursue a direct course, others diverge on either side; but in a short time they all drop into their natural element. while they are travelling in the air, their keen and hungry pursuer, like a greyhound, follows in their wake, and performing a succession of leaps, many feet in extent, rapidly gains upon the quarry, which is often seized just as it falls into the sea. dolphins manifest a very remarkable sympathy with each other. the moment one of them is hooked or grained, those in company make up to it, and remain around until the unfortunate fish is pulled on board, when they generally move off together, seldom biting at anything thrown out to them. this, however, is the case only with the larger individuals, which keep apart from the young, in the same manner as is observed in several species of birds; for when the smaller dolphins are in large shoals, they all remain under the bows of a ship, and bite in succession at any sort of line, as if determined to see what has become of their lost companions, in consequence of which they are often all caught. you must not suppose that the dolphin is without its enemies. who, in this world, man or fish, has not enough of them? often it conceives itself on the very eve of swallowing a fish, which, after all, is nothing but a piece of lead, with a few feathers fastened to it, to make it look like a flying-fish, when it is seized and severed in two by the insidious balacouda, which i have once seen to carry off by means of its sharp teeth, the better part of a dolphin that was hooked, and already hoisted to the surface of the water. the dolphins caught in the gulf of mexico during this calm were suspected to be poisonous; and to ascertain whether this was really the case, our cook, who was an african negro, never boiled or fried one without placing beside it a dollar. if the silver was not tarnished by the time the dolphin was ready for the table, the fish was presented to the passengers, with an assurance that it was perfectly good. but as not a single individual of the hundred that we caught had the property of converting silver into copper, i suspect that our african sage was no magician. one morning, that of the d of june, the weather sultry, i was surprised on getting out of my hammock, which was slung on deck, to find the water all around swarming with dolphins, which were sporting in great glee. the sailors assured me that this was a certain "token of wind," and, as they watched the movements of the fishes, added, "ay, and of a fair breeze too." i caught several dolphins in the course of an hour, after which scarcely any remained about the ship. not a breath of air came to our relief all that day, no, nor even the next. the sailors were in despair, and i should probably have become despondent also, had not my spirits been excited by finding a very large dolphin on my hook. when i had hauled it on board, i found it to be the largest i had ever caught. it was a magnificent creature. see how it quivers in the agonies of death! its tail flaps the hard deck, producing a sound like the rapid roll of a drum. how beautiful the changes of its colors! now it is blue, now green, silvery, golden, and burnished copper! now it presents a blaze of all the hues of the rainbow intermingled; but, alack! it is dead, and the play of its colors is no longer seen. it has settled into the deep calm that has paralyzed the energies of the blustering winds, and smoothed down the proud waves of the ocean. the best bait for the dolphin is a long strip of shark's flesh. i think it generally prefers this to the semblance of the flying-fish, which indeed it does not often seize unless when the ship is under way, and it is made to rise to the surface. there are times, however, when hunger and the absence of their usual food will induce the dolphins to dash at any sort of bait; and i have seen some caught by means of a piece of white linen fastened to a hook. their appetite is as keen as that of the vulture, and whenever a good opportunity occurs, they gorge themselves to such a degree that they become an easy prey to their enemies the balacouda and the bottle-nosed porpoise. one that had been grained while lazily swimming immediately under the stern of our ship, was found to have its stomach completely crammed with flying-fish, all regularly disposed side by side, with their tails downwards--by which i mean to say that the dolphin always _swallows its prey tail-foremost_. they looked in fact like so many salted herrings packed in a box, and were to the number of twenty-two, each six or seven inches in length. the usual length of the dolphins caught in the gulf of mexico is about three feet, and i saw none that exceeded four feet two inches. the weight of one of the latter size was only eighteen pounds; for this fish is extremely narrow in proportion to its length, although rather deep in its form. when just caught, the upper fin, which reaches from the forehead to within a short distance of the tail, is of a fine dark blue. the upper part of the body in its whole length is azure, and the lower parts are of a golden hue, mottled irregularly with deep-blue spots. it seems that they at times enter very shallow water, as in the course of my last voyage along the florida coast, some were caught in a seine, along with their kinsman the "cavalier," of which i shall speak elsewhere. the flesh of the dolphin is rather firm, very white, and lies in flakes when cooked. the first caught are generally eaten with great pleasure, but when served many days in succession, they become insipid. it is not, as an article of food, equal to the balacouda, which is perhaps as good as any fish caught in the waters of the gulf of mexico. still becalmed on the th of june, we were still in the same plight, although the currents of the gulf had borne us to a great distance from the place where, as i have informed you, we had amused ourselves with catching dolphins. these currents are certainly very singular, for they carried us hither and thither, at one time rendering us apprehensive of drifting on the coast of florida, at another threatening to send us to cuba. sometimes a slight motion in the air revived our hopes, swelled our sails a little, and carried us through the smooth waters like a skater gliding on ice; but in a few hours it was again a dead calm. one day several small birds, after alighting on the spars, betook themselves to the deck. one of them, a female rice bunting, drew our attention more particularly, for, a few moments after her arrival, there came down, as if in her wake, a beautiful peregrine falcon. the plunderer hovered about for a while, then stationed himself on the end of one of the yard-arms, and suddenly pouncing on the little gleaner of the meadows, clutched her and carried her off in exultation. but, reader, mark the date, and judge besides of my astonishment when i saw the falcon feeding on the finch while on wing, precisely with the same ease and composure as the mississippi kite might show while devouring high in air a red-throated lizard, swept from one of the magnificent trees of the louisiana woods. there was a favorite pet on board belonging to our captain, and which was nothing more nor less than the female companion of a cock--in other words, a common hen. some liked her because she now and then dropped a fresh egg--a rare article at sea, even on board the "delos;" others, because she exhibited a pleasing simplicity of character; others again, because, when they had pushed her overboard, it gave them pleasure to see the poor thing in terror strike with her feet, and strive to reach her floating home, which she would never have accomplished, however, had it not been for the humane interference of our captain, mr. joseph hatch, of kennebunk. kind, good-hearted man! when, several weeks after, the same pet hen accidentally flew overboard, as we were scudding along at a furious rate, i thought i saw a tear stand in his eye, as she floated panting in our wake. but as yet we are becalmed, and heartily displeased at old "Æolus" for overlooking us. one afternoon we caught two sharks. in one of them, a female, about seven feet long, we found ten young ones, all alive, and quite capable of swimming, as we proved by experiment; for, on casting one of them into the sea, it immediately made off, as if it had been accustomed to shift for itself. of another, that had been cut in two, the head half swam off out of our sight. the rest were cut in pieces, as was the old shark, as bait for the dolphins, which i have already said are fond of such food. our captain, who was much intent on amusing me, informed me that the rudder-fishes were plentiful astern, and immediately set to dressing hooks for the purpose of catching them. there was now some air above us, the cotton sheets aloft bulged out, the ship moved through the water, and the captain and i repaired to the cabin window. i was furnished with a fine hook, a thread line, and some small bits of bacon, as was the captain, and we dropped our bait among the myriads of delicate little fishes below. up they came, one after another, so fast in succession that, according to my journal, we caught three hundred and seventy in about two hours. what a mess! and how delicious when roasted! if ever i am again becalmed in the gulf of mexico, i shall not forget the rudder-fish. the little things scarcely measured three inches in length; they were thin and deep in form, and afforded excellent eating. it was curious to see them keep to the lee of the rudder in a compact body; and so voracious were they that they actually leaped out of the water at the sight of the bait, as "sunnies" are occasionally wont to do in our rivers. but the very instant that the ship became still, they dispersed around her sides, and would no longer bite. i made a figure of one of them, as indeed i tried to do of every other species that occurred during this deathlike calm. not one of these fishes did i ever see when crossing the atlantic, although many kinds at times come close to the stern of any vessel in the great sea, and are called by the same name. another time we caught a fine porpoise, which measured about two yards in length. this took place at night, when the light of the moon afforded me a clear view of the spot. the fish, contrary to custom, was grained, instead of being harpooned; but in such a way and so effectually, through the forehead, that it was thus held fast, and allowed to flounce and beat about the bows of the ship, until the person who had struck it gave the line holding the grains to the captain, slid down upon the bob-stays with a rope, and after a while managed to secure it by the tail. some of the crew then hoisted it on board. when it arrived on deck, it gave a deep groan, flapped with great force, and soon expired. on opening it next morning, eight hours after death, we found its intestines still warm. they were arranged in the same manner as those of a pig; the paunch contained several cuttle-fishes partially digested. the lower jaw extended beyond the upper about three-fourths of an inch, and both were furnished with a single row of conical teeth, about half an inch long, and just so far separated as to admit those of one jaw between the corresponding ones of the other. the animal might weigh about four hundred pounds; its eyes were extremely small, its flesh was considered delicate by some on board; but in my opinion, if it be good, that of a large alligator is equally so; and on neither do i intend to feast for some time. the captain told me that he had seen these porpoises leap at times perpendicularly out of the water to the height of several feet, and that small boats have now and then been sunk by their falling into them when engaged with their sports. during all this time flocks of pigeons were crossing the gulf, between cuba and the floridas; many a rose-breasted gull played around by day; noddies alighted on the rigging by night; and now and then the frigate bird was observed ranging high over head in the azure of the cloudless sky. the directions of the currents were tried, and our captain, who had an extraordinary genius for mechanics, was frequently employed in turning powder-horns and other articles. so calm and sultry was the weather that we had a large awning spread, under which we took our meals and spent the night. at length we got so wearied of it that the very sailors, i thought, seemed disposed to leap overboard and swim to land. but at length, on the thirty-seventh day after our departure, a smart breeze overtook us. presently there was an extraordinary bustle on board; about twelve the tortugas light-house bore north of us, and in a few hours more we gained the atlantic. Æolus had indeed awakened from his long sleep; and on the nineteenth day after leaving the capes of florida, i was landed at liverpool. great egg harbor some years ago, after having spent the spring in observing the habits of the migratory warblers and other land birds, which arrived in vast numbers in the vicinity of camden in new jersey, i prepared to visit the sea shores of that state, for the purpose of making myself acquainted with their feathered inhabitants. june had commenced, the weather was pleasant, and the country seemed to smile in the prospect of bright days and gentle gales. fishermen-gunners passed daily between philadelphia and the various small seaports, with jersey wagons, laden with fish, fowls, and other provisions, or with such articles as were required by the families of those hardy boatmen; and i bargained with one of them to take myself and my baggage to great egg harbor. one afternoon, about sunset, the vehicle halted at my lodgings, and the conductor intimated that he was anxious to proceed as quickly as possible. a trunk, a couple of guns, and such other articles as are found necessary by persons whose pursuits are similar to mine, were immediately thrust into the wagon, and were followed by their owner. the conductor whistled to his steeds, and off we went at a round pace over the loose and deep sand that in almost every part of this state forms the basis of the roads. after a while we overtook a whole caravan of similar vehicles, moving in the same direction, and when we got near them our horses slackened their pace to a regular walk, the driver leaped from his seat, i followed his example, and we presently found ourselves in the midst of a group of merry wagoners, relating their adventures of the week, it being now saturday night. one gave intimation of the number of "sheep-heads" he had taken to town, another spoke of the curlews which yet remained on the sands, and a third boasted of having gathered so many dozens of marsh hens' eggs. i inquired if the fish hawks were plentiful near great egg harbor, and was answered by an elderly man, who with a laugh asked if i had ever seen the "weak fish" along the coast without the bird in question. not knowing the animal he had named, i confessed my ignorance, when the whole party burst into a loud laugh, in which, there being nothing better for it, i joined. [illustration: john woodhouse audubon. painted by audubon about .] about midnight the caravan reached a half-way house, where we rested a while. several roads diverged from this spot, and the wagons separated, one only keeping us company. the night was dark and gloomy, but the sand of the road indicated our course very distinctly. suddenly the galloping of horses struck my ear, and on looking back we perceived that our wagon must in an instant be in imminent danger. the driver leaped off, and drew his steeds aside, barely in time to allow the runaways to pass without injuring us. off they went at full speed, and not long after their owner came up panting, and informed us that they had suddenly taken fright at some noise proceeding from the woods, but hoped they would soon stop. immediately after we heard a crack; then for a few moments all was silent; but the neighing of horses presently assured us that they had broken loose. on reaching the spot we found the wagon upset, and a few yards farther on were the horses, quietly browsing by the roadside. the first dawn of morn in the jerseys in the month of june is worthy of a better description than i can furnish, and therefore i shall only say that the moment the sunbeams blazed over the horizon, the loud and mellow notes of the meadow lark saluted our ears. on each side of the road were open woods, on the tallest trees of which i observed at intervals the nest of a fish hawk, far above which the white-breasted bird slowly winged its way, as it commenced its early journey to the sea, the odor of which filled me with delight. in half an hour more we were in the centre of great egg harbor. there i had the good fortune to be received into the house of a thoroughbred fisherman-gunner, who, besides owning a comfortable cot only a few hundred yards from the shore, had an excellent woman for a wife, and a little daughter as playful as a kitten, though as wild as a sea-gull. in less than half an hour i was quite at home, and the rest of the day was spent in devotion. oysters, though reckoned out of season at this period, are as good as ever when fresh from their beds, and my first meal was of some as large and white as any i have eaten. the sight of them placed before me on a clean table, with an honest and industrious family in my company, never failed to afford more pleasure than the most sumptuous fare under different circumstances; and our conversation being simple and harmless, gayety shone in every face. as we became better acquainted, i had to answer several questions relative to the object of my visit. the good man rubbed his hands with joy, as i spoke of shooting and fishing, and of long excursions through the swamps and marshes around. my host was then, and i hope still is, a tall, strong-boned, muscular man, of dark complexion, with eyes as keen as those of the sea-eagle. he was a tough walker, laughed at difficulties, and could pull an oar with any man. as to shooting, i have often doubted whether he or mr. egan, the worthy pilot of indian isle, was best; and rarely indeed have i seen either of them miss a shot. at daybreak on monday, i shouldered my double-barrelled gun, and my host carried with him a long fowling-piece, a pair of oars, and a pair of oyster-tongs, while the wife and daughter brought along a seine. the boat was good, the breeze gentle, and along the inlets we sailed for parts well known to my companions. to such naturalists as are qualified to observe many different objects at the same time, great egg harbor would probably afford as ample a field as any part of our coast, excepting the florida keys. birds of many kinds are abundant, as are fishes and testaceous animals. the forests shelter many beautiful plants, and even on the driest sand-bar you may see insects of the most brilliant tints. our principal object, however, was to procure certain birds known there by the name of lawyers, and to accomplish this we entered and followed for several miles a winding inlet or bayou, which led us to the interior of a vast marsh, where after some search we found the birds and their nests. our seine had been placed across the channel, and when we returned to it the tide had run out, and left in it a number of fine fish, some of which we cooked and ate on the spot. one, which i considered as a curiosity, was saved, and transmitted to baron cuvier. our repast ended, the seine was spread out to dry, and we again betook ourselves to the marshes to pursue our researches until the return of the tide. having collected enough to satisfy us, we took up our oars, and returned to the shore in front of the fisherman's house, where we dragged the seine several times with success. in this manner i passed several weeks along those delightful and healthy shores, one day going to the woods, to search the swamps in which the herons bred, passing another amid the joyous cries of the marsh hens, and on a third carrying slaughter among the white-breasted sea-gulls; by way of amusement sometimes hauling the fish called the sheep's-head from an eddy along the shore, or watching the gay terns as they danced in the air, or plunged into the waters to seize the tiny fry. many a drawing i made at great egg harbor, many a pleasant day i spent along its shores; and much pleasure would it give me once more to visit the good and happy family in whose house i resided there. the great pine swamp i left philadelphia, at four of the morning, by the coach, with no other accoutrements than i knew to be absolutely necessary for the jaunt which i intended to make. these consisted of a wooden box, containing a small stock of linen, drawing-paper, my journal, colors, and pencils, together with twenty-five pounds of shot, some flints, the due quantum of cash, my gun _tear-jacket_, and a heart as true to nature as ever. our coaches are none of the best, nor do they move with the velocity of those of some other countries. it was eight, and a dark night, when i reached mauch chunk, now so celebrated in the union for its rich coal-mines, and eighty-eight miles distant from philadelphia. i had passed through a very diversified country, part of which was highly cultivated, while the rest was yet in a state of nature, and consequently much more agreeable to me. on alighting, i was shown to the traveller's room, and on asking for the landlord, saw coming towards me a fine-looking young man, to whom i made known my wishes. he spoke kindly, and offered to lodge and board me at a much lower rate than travellers who go there for the very simple pleasure of being dragged on the railway. in a word, i was fixed in four minutes, and that most comfortably. no sooner had the approach of day been announced by the cocks of the little village, than i marched out with my gun and note-book, to judge for myself of the wealth of the country. after traversing much ground, and crossing many steep hills, i returned, if not wearied, at least much disappointed at the extraordinary scarcity of birds. so i bargained to be carried in a cart to the central parts of the great pine swamp, and, although a heavy storm was rising, ordered my conductor to proceed. we winded round many a mountain and at last crossed the highest. the storm had become tremendous, and we were thoroughly drenched, but, my resolution being fixed, the boy was obliged to continue his driving. having already travelled about fifteen miles or so, we left the turnpike, and struck up a narrow and bad road, that seemed merely cut out to enable the people of the swamp to receive the necessary supplies from the village which i had left. some mistakes were made, and it was almost dark when a post directed us to the habitation of a mr. jediah irish, to whom i had been recommended. we now rattled down a steep declivity, edged on one side by almost perpendicular rocks, and on the other by a noisy stream, which seemed grumbling at the approach of strangers. the ground was so overgrown by laurels and tall pines of different kinds that the whole presented only a mass of darkness. at length we reached the house, the door of which was already opened, the sight of strangers being nothing uncommon in our woods, even in the most remote parts. on entering, i was presented with a chair, while my conductor was shown the way to the stable, and on expressing a wish that i should be permitted to remain in the house for some weeks, i was gratified by receiving the sanction of the good woman to my proposal, although her husband was then from home. as i immediately began to talk about the nature of the country, and inquired if birds were numerous in the neighborhood, mrs. irish, more _au fait_ in household affairs than ornithology, sent for a nephew of her husband's, who soon made his appearance, and in whose favor i became at once prepossessed. he conversed like an educated person, saw that i was comfortably disposed of, and finally bade me good-night in such a tone as made me quite happy. the storm had rolled away before the first beams of the morning sun shone brightly on the wet foliage, displaying all its richness and beauty. my ears were greeted by the notes, always sweet and mellow, of the wood thrush and other songsters. before i had gone many steps, the woods echoed to the report of my gun, and i picked from among the leaves a lovely sylvia,[ ] long sought for, but until then sought for in vain. i needed no more, and standing still for a while, i was soon convinced that the great pine swamp harbored many other objects as valuable to me. the young man joined me, bearing his rifle, and offered to accompany me through the woods, all of which he well knew. but i was anxious to transfer to paper the form and beauty of the little bird i had in my hand; and requesting him to break a twig of blooming laurel, we returned to the house, speaking of nothing else than the picturesque beauty of the country around. a few days passed, during which i became acquainted with my hostess and her sweet children, and made occasional rambles, but spent the greater portion of my time in drawing. one morning, as i stood near the window of my room, i remarked a tall and powerful man alight from his horse, loose the girth of the saddle, raise the latter with one hand, pass the bridle over the head of the animal with the other, and move towards the house, while the horse betook himself to the little brook to drink. i heard some movements in the room below, and again the same tall person walked towards the mill and stores, a few hundred yards from the house. in america business is the first object in view at all times, and right it is that it should be so. soon after my hostess entered my room, accompanied by the fine-looking woodsman, to whom, as mr. jediah irish, i was introduced. reader, to describe to you the qualities of that excellent man were vain; you should know him, as i do, to estimate the value of such men in our sequestered forests. he not only made me welcome, but promised all his assistance in forwarding my views. the long walks and long talks we have had together i can never forget, nor the many beautiful birds which we pursued, shot, and admired. the juicy venison, excellent bear flesh, and delightful trout that daily formed my food, methinks i can still enjoy. and then, what pleasure i had in listening to him as he read his favorite poems of burns, while my pencil was occupied in smoothing and softening the drawing of the bird before me! was not this enough to recall to my mind the early impressions that had been made upon it by the description of the golden age, which i here found realized? the lehigh about this place forms numerous short turns between the mountains, and affords frequent falls, as well as below the falls deep pools, which render this stream a most valuable one for mills of any kind. not many years before this date, my host was chosen by the agent of the lehigh coal company, as their mill-wright, and manager for cutting down the fine trees which covered the mountains around. he was young, robust, active, industrious, and persevering. he marched to the spot where his abode now is, with some workmen, and by dint of hard labor first cleared the road mentioned above, and reached the river at the centre of a bend, where he fixed on erecting various mills. the pass here is so narrow that it looks as if formed by the bursting asunder of the mountain, both sides ascending abruptly, so that the place where the settlement was made is in many parts difficult of access, and the road then newly cut was only sufficient to permit men and horses to come to the spot where jediah and his men were at work. so great, in fact, were the difficulties of access that, as he told me, pointing to a spot about one hundred and fifty feet above us, they for many months slipped from it their barrelled provisions, assisted by ropes, to their camp below. but no sooner was the first saw-mill erected than the axe-men began their devastations. trees, one after another, were, and are yet, constantly heard falling during the days; and in calm nights, the greedy mills told the sad tale that in a century the noble forests around should exist no more. many mills were erected, many dams raised, in defiance of the impetuous lehigh. one full third of the trees have already been culled, turned into boards, and floated as far as philadelphia. in such an undertaking the cutting of the trees is not all. they have afterwards to be hauled to the edge of the mountains bordering the river, launched into the stream, and led to the mills over many shallows and difficult places. whilst i was in the great pine swamp, i frequently visited one of the principal places for the launching of logs. to see them tumbling from such a height, touching here and there the rough angle of a projecting rock, bouncing from it with the elasticity of a foot-ball, and at last falling with an awful crash into the river, forms a sight interesting in the highest degree, but impossible for me to describe. shall i tell you that i have seen masses of these logs heaped above each other to the number of five thousand? i may so tell you, for such i have seen. my friend irish assured me that at some seasons, these piles consisted of a much greater number, the river becoming in those places completely choked up. when _freshets_ (or floods) take place, then is the time chosen for forwarding the logs to the different mills. this is called a _frolic_. jediah irish, who is generally the leader, proceeds to the upper leap with his men, each provided with a strong wooden handspike, and a short-handled axe. they all take to the water, be it summer or winter, like so many newfoundland spaniels. the logs are gradually detached, and, after a time, are seen floating down the dancing stream, here striking against a rock and whirling many times round, there suddenly checked in dozens by a shallow, over which they have to be forced with the handspikes. now they arrive at the edge of a dam, and are again pushed over. certain numbers are left in each dam, and when the party has arrived at the last, which lies just where my friend irish's camp was first formed, the drenched leader and his men, about sixty in number, make their way home, find there a healthful repast, and spend the evening and a portion of the night in dancing and frolicking, in their own simple manner, in the most perfect amity, seldom troubling themselves with the idea of the labor prepared for them on the morrow. that morrow now come, one sounds a horn from the door of the store-house, at the call of which each returns to his work. the sawyers, the millers, the rafters, and raftsmen are all immediately busy. the mills are all going, and the logs, which a few months before were the supporters of broad and leafy tops, are now in the act of being split asunder. the boards are then launched into the stream, and rafts are formed of them for market. during the months of summer and autumn, the lehigh, a small river of itself, soon becomes extremely shallow, and to float the rafts would prove impossible, had not art managed to provide a supply of water for this express purpose. at the breast of the lower dam is a curiously constructed lock, which is opened at the approach of the rafts. they pass through this lock with the rapidity of lightning, propelled by the water that had been accumulated in the dam, and which is of itself generally sufficient to float them to mauch chunk, after which, entering regular canals, they find no other impediments, but are conveyed to their ultimate destination. before population had greatly advanced in this part of pennsylvania, game of all description found within that range was extremely abundant. the elk itself did not disdain to browse on the shoulders of the mountains near the lehigh. bears and the common deer must have been plentiful, as, at the moment when i write, many of both are seen and killed by the resident hunters. the wild turkey, the pheasant, and the grouse, are also tolerably abundant, and as to trout in the streams--ah, reader, if you are an angler, do go there and try for yourself. for my part, i can only say that i have been made weary with pulling up from the rivulets the sparkling fish, allured by the struggles of the common grasshopper. a comical affair happened with the bears, which i shall relate to you, good reader. a party of my friend irish's raftsmen, returning from mauch chunk one afternoon, through sundry short-cuts over the mountains, at the season when the huckleberries are ripe and plentiful, were suddenly apprised of the proximity of some of these animals by their snuffing the air. no sooner was this perceived than, to the astonishment of the party, not fewer than eight bears, i was told, made their appearance. each man, being provided with his short-handled axe, faced about, and willingly came to the scratch; but the assailed soon proved the assailants, and with claw and tooth drove the men off in a twinkling. down they all rushed from the mountain; the noise spread quickly; rifles were soon procured and shouldered; but when the spot was reached, no bears were to be found; night forced the hunters back to their homes, and a laugh concluded the affair. i spent six weeks in the great pine forest--swamp it cannot be called--where i made many a drawing. wishing to leave pennsylvania, and to follow the migratory flocks of our birds to the south, i bade adieu to the excellent wife and rosy children of my friend, and to his kind nephew. jediah irish, shouldering his heavy rifle, accompanied me, and trudging directly across the mountains, we arrived at mauch chunk in good time for dinner. shall i ever have the pleasure of seeing that good, that generous man again?[ ] at mauch chunk, where we both spent the night, mr. white, the civil engineer, visited me, and looked at the drawings which i had made in the great pine forest. the news he gave me of my sons, then in kentucky, made me still more anxious to move in their direction; and long before daybreak, i shook hands with the good man of the forest, and found myself moving towards the capital of pennsylvania,[ ] having as my sole companion a sharp, frosty breeze. left to my thoughts, i felt amazed that such a place as the great pine forest should be so little known to the philadelphians, scarcely any of whom could direct me towards it. how much it is to be regretted, thought i, that the many young gentlemen who are there, so much at a loss how to employ their leisure days, should not visit these wild retreats, valuable as they are to the student of nature. how differently would they feel, if, instead of spending weeks in smoothing a useless bow, and walking out in full dress, intent on displaying the make of their legs, to some rendezvous where they may enjoy their wines, they were to occupy themselves in contemplating the rich profusion which nature has poured around them, or even in procuring some desiderated specimen for their peale's museum, once so valuable, and so finely arranged! but, alas, no! they are none of them aware of the richness of the great pine swamp, nor are they likely to share the hospitality to be found there. the lost one a "live-oaker" employed on the st. john's river, in east florida, left his cabin, situated on the banks of that stream, and, with his axe on his shoulder, proceeded towards the swamp in which he had several times before plied his trade of felling and squaring the giant trees that afford the most valuable timber for naval architecture and other purposes. at the season which is the best for this kind of labor, heavy fogs not unfrequently cover the country, so as to render it difficult for one to see farther than thirty or forty yards in any direction. the woods, too, present so little variety that every tree seems the mere counterpart of every other; and the grass, when it has not been burnt, is so tall that a man of ordinary stature cannot see over it, whence it is necessary for him to proceed with great caution, lest he should unwittingly deviate from the ill-defined trail which he follows. to increase the difficulty, several trails often meet, in which case, unless the explorer be perfectly acquainted with the neighborhood, it would be well for him to lie down, and wait until the fog should disperse. under such circumstances, the best woodsmen are not unfrequently bewildered for a while; and i well remember that such an occurrence happened to myself, at a time when i had imprudently ventured to pursue a wounded quadruped, which led me some distance from the track. the live-oaker had been jogging onwards for several hours, and became aware that he must have travelled considerably more than the distance between his cabin and the "hummock" which he desired to reach. to his alarm, at the moment when the fog dispersed, he saw the sun at its meridian height, and could not recognize a single object around him. young, healthy, and active, he imagined he had walked with more than usual speed, and had passed the place to which he was bound. he accordingly turned his back upon the sun, and pursued a different route, guided by a small trail. time passed, and the sun headed his course; he saw it gradually descend in the west; but all around him continued as if enveloped with mystery. the huge gray trees spread their giant boughs over him, the rank grass extended on all sides, not a living being crossed his path; all was silent and still, and the scene was like a dull and dreary dream of the land of oblivion. he wandered like a forgotten ghost that had passed into the land of spirits, without yet meeting one of his kind with whom to hold converse. the condition of a man lost in the woods is one of the most perplexing that could be imagined by a person who has not himself been in a like predicament. every object he sees, he at first thinks he recognizes, and while his whole mind is bent on searching for more that may gradually lead to his extrication, he goes on committing greater errors the farther he proceeds. this was the case with the live-oaker. the sun was now setting with a fiery aspect, and by degrees it sunk in its full circular form, as if giving warning of a sultry morrow. myriads of insects, delighted at its departure, now filled the air on buzzing wings. each piping frog arose from the muddy pool in which it had concealed itself; the squirrel retired to its hole, the crow to its roost, and, far above, the harsh, croaking voice of the heron announced that, full of anxiety, it was wending its way towards the miry interior of some distant swamp. now the woods began to resound to the shrill cries of the owl; and the breeze, as it swept among the columnar stems of the forest trees, came laden with heavy and chilling dews. alas! no moon with her silvery light shone on the dreary scene, and the lost one, wearied and vexed, laid himself down on the damp ground. prayer is always consolatory to man in every difficulty or danger, and the woodsman fervently prayed to his maker, wished his family a happier night than it was his lot to experience, and with a feverish anxiety waited the return of day. you may imagine the length of that dull, cold, moonless night. with the dawn of day came the usual fogs of those latitudes. the poor man started on his feet, and with a sorrowful heart, pursued a course which he thought might lead him to some familiar object, although, indeed, he scarcely knew what he was doing. no longer had he the trace of a track to guide him, and yet, as the sun rose, he calculated the many hours of daylight he had before him, and the farther he went, the faster he walked. but vain were all his hopes; that day was spent in fruitless endeavors to regain the path that led to his home, and when night again approached, the terror that had been gradually spreading over his mind, together with the nervous debility produced by fatigue, anxiety, and hunger, rendered him almost frantic. he told me that at this moment he beat his breast, tore his hair, and, had it not been for the piety with which his parents had in early life imbued his mind, and which had become habitual, would have cursed his existence. famished as he now was, he laid himself on the ground, and fed on the weeds and grasses that grew around him. that night was spent in the greatest agony and terror. "i knew my situation," he said to me. "i was fully aware that unless almighty god came to my assistance, i must perish in those uninhabited woods. i knew that i had walked more than fifty miles, although i had not met with a brook, from which i could quench my thirst, or even allay the burning heat of my parched lips and bloodshot eyes. i knew that if i should not meet with some stream i must die, for my axe was my only weapon, and although deer and bears now and then started within a few yards, or even feet of me, not one of them could i kill; and although i was in the midst of abundance, not a mouthful did i expect to procure, to satisfy the cravings of my empty stomach. sir, may god preserve you from ever feeling as i did the whole of that day." for several days after, no one can imagine the condition in which he was, for when he related to me this painful adventure, he assured me that he had lost all recollection of what had happened. "god," he continued, "must have taken pity on me one day, for, as i ran wildly through those dreadful pine barrens, i met with a tortoise. i gazed upon it with amazement and delight, and, although i knew that were i to follow it undisturbed, it would lead me to some water, my hunger and thirst would not allow me to refrain from satisfying both, by eating its flesh, and drinking its blood. with one stroke of my axe the beast was cut in two, and in a few moments i had despatched all but the shell. oh, sir, how much i thanked god, whose kindness had put the tortoise in my way! i felt greatly renewed. i sat down at the foot of a pine, gazed on the heavens, thought of my poor wife and children, and again and again thanked my god for my life; for now i felt less distracted in mind, and more assured that before long i must recover my way, and get back to my home." the lost one remained and passed the night, at the foot of the same tree under which his repast had been made. refreshed by a sound sleep, he started at dawn to resume his weary march. the sun rose bright, and he followed the direction of the shadows. still the dreariness of the woods was the same, and he was on the point of giving up in despair, when he observed a raccoon lying squatted in the grass. raising his axe, he drove it with such violence through the helpless animal that it expired without a struggle. what he had done with the tortoise, he now did with the raccoon, the greater part of which he actually devoured at one meal. with more comfortable feelings he then resumed his wanderings--his journey, i cannot say--for although in the possession of all his faculties, and in broad daylight, he was worse off than a lame man groping his way in the dark out of a dungeon, of which he knew not where the doors stood. days, one after another, passed--nay, weeks in succession. he fed now on cabbage-trees, then on frogs and snakes. all that fell in his way was welcome and savory. yet he became daily more emaciated, until at length he could scarcely crawl. forty days had elapsed, by his own reckoning, when he at last reached the banks of the river. his clothes in tatters, his once bright axe dimmed with rust, his face begrimed with beard, his hair matted, and his feeble frame little better than a skeleton covered with parchment, there he laid himself down to die. amid the perturbed dreams of his fevered fancy, he thought he heard the noise of oars far away on the silent river. he listened, but the sounds died away on his ear. it was, indeed, a dream, the last glimmer of expiring hope, and now the light of life was about to be quenched forever. but again the sound of oars woke him from his lethargy. he listened so eagerly that the hum of a fly could not have escaped his ear. they were, indeed, the measured beats of oars. and now, joy to the forlorn soul! the sound of human voices thrilled to his heart, and awoke the tumultuous pulses of returning hope. on his knees did the eye of god see that poor man by the broad, still stream that glittered in the sunbeams, and human eyes soon saw him too, for round that headland covered with tangled brushwood, boldly advances the little boat, propelled by its lusty rowers. the lost one raises his feeble voice on high; it was a loud, shrill scream of joy and fear. the rowers pause, and look around. another, but feebler scream, and they observe him. it comes, his heart flutters, his sight is dimmed, his brain reels, he gasps for breath. it comes--it has run upon the beach, and the lost one is found. this is no tale of fiction, but the relation of an actual occurrence, which might be embellished, no doubt, but which is better in the plain garb of truth. the notes by which i recorded it were written in the cabin of the once lost live-oaker, about four years after the painful incident occurred. his amiable wife, and loving children, were present at the recital, and never shall i forget the tears that flowed from their eyes as they listened to it, albeit it had long been more familiar to them than a tale thrice told. sincerely do i wish, good reader, that neither you nor i may ever elicit such sympathy by having undergone such sufferings, although no doubt, such sympathy would be a rich recompense for them. it only remains for me to say that the distance between the cabin and the live-oak hummock to which the woodsman was bound, scarcely exceeded eight miles, while the part of the river where he was found was thirty-eight miles from his house. calculating his daily wanderings at ten miles, we may believe they amounted in all to four hundred. he must therefore have rambled in a circuitous direction, which people generally do in such circumstances. nothing but the great strength of his constitution, and the merciful aid of his maker, could have supported him for so long a time. the live-oakers the greater part of the forests of east florida consist principally of what in that country are called "pine barrens." in these districts, the woods are rather thin, and the only trees that are seen in them are tall pines of indifferent quality, beneath which is a growth of rank grass, here and there mixed with low bushes, and sword-palmettoes. the soil is of a sandy nature, mostly flat, and consequently either covered with water during the rainy season, or parched in the summer or autumn, although you meet at times with ponds of stagnant water, where the cattle, which are abundant, allay their thirst, and around which resort the various kinds of game found in these wilds. the traveller, who has pursued his course for many miles over the barrens, is suddenly delighted to see in the distance the appearance of a dark "hummock" of live-oaks and other trees, seeming as if they had been planted in the wilderness. as he approaches, the air feels cooler and more salubrious, the song of numerous birds delights his ear, the herbage assumes a more luxuriant appearance, the flowers become larger and brighter, and a grateful fragrance is diffused around. these objects contribute to refresh his mind, as much as the sight of the waters of some clear spring gliding among the undergrowth seems already to allay his thirst. overhead festoons of innumerable vines, jessamines, and bignonias, link each tree with those around it, their slender stems being interlaced as if in mutual affection. no sooner, in the shade of these beautiful woods, has the traveller finished his mid-day repast than he perceives small parties of men lightly accoutred, and each bearing an axe, approaching towards his resting-place. they exchange the usual civilities, and immediately commence their labors, for they too have just finished their meal. i think i see them proceeding to their work. here two have stationed themselves on the opposite sides of the trunk of a noble and venerable live-oak. their keen-edged and well-tempered axes seem to make no impression on it, so small are the chips that drop at each blow around the mossy and wide-spreading roots. there, one is ascending the stem of another, of which, in its fall, the arms have stuck among the tangled tops of the neighboring trees. see how cautiously he proceeds, barefooted, and with a handkerchief around his head. now he has climbed to the height of about forty feet from the ground; he stops, and squaring himself with the trunk on which he so boldly stands, he wields with sinewy arms his trusty blade, the repeated blows of which, although the tree be as tough as it is large, will soon sever it in two. he has changed sides, and his back is turned to you. the trunk now remains connected only by a thin strip of wood. he places his feet on the part which is lodged, and shakes it with all his might. now swings the huge log under his leaps, now it suddenly gives way, and as it strikes upon the ground its echoes are repeated through the hummock, and every wild turkey within hearing utters his gobble of recognition. the wood-cutter however, remains collected and composed; but the next moment, he throws his axe to the ground, and, assisted by the nearest grape-vine, slides down and reaches the earth in an instant. several men approach and examine the prostrate trunk. they cut at both its extremities, and sound the whole of its bark, to enable them to judge if the tree has been attacked by the white rot. if such has unfortunately been the case, there, for a century or more, this huge log will remain until it gradually crumbles; but if not, and if it is free of injury or "wind-shakes," while there is no appearance of the sap having already ascended, and its pores are altogether sound, they proceed to take its measurement. its shape ascertained, and the timber that is fit for use laid out by the aid of models, which, like fragments of the skeleton of a ship, show the forms and sizes required, the "hewers" commence their labors. thus, reader, perhaps every known hummock in the floridas is annually attacked, and so often does it happen that the white rot or some other disease has deteriorated the quality of the timber, that the woods may be seen strewn with trunks that have been found worthless, so that every year these valuable oaks are becoming scarcer. the destruction of the young trees of this species caused by the fall of the great trunks is of course immense, and as there are no artificial plantations of these trees in our country, before long a good-sized live-oak will be so valuable that its owner will exact an enormous price for it, even while it yet stands in the wood. in my opinion, formed on personal observation, live-oak hummocks are _not quite_ so plentiful as they are represented to be, and of this i will give you _one_ illustration. on the th of february, , i happened to be far up the st. john's river in east florida, in the company of a person employed by our government in protecting the live-oaks of that section of the country, and who received a good salary for his trouble. while we were proceeding along one of the banks of that most singular stream, my companion pointed out some large hummocks of dark-leaved trees on the opposite side, which he said were entirely formed of live-oaks. i thought differently, and as our controversy on the subject became a little warm, i proposed that our men should row us to the place, where we might examine the leaves and timber, and so decide the point. we soon landed, but after inspecting the woods, not a single tree of the species did we find, although there were thousands of large "swamp-oaks." my companion acknowledged his mistake, and i continued to search for birds. one dark evening as i was seated on the banks of this same river, considering what arrangements i should make for the night, as it began to rain in torrents, a man who happened to see me, came up and invited me to go to his cabin, which he said was not far off. i accepted his kind offer, and followed him to his humble dwelling. there i found his wife, several children, and a number of men, who, as my host told me, were, like himself, live-oakers. supper was placed on a large table, and on being desired to join the party, i willingly assented, doing my best to diminish the contents of the tin pans and dishes set before the company by the active and agreeable housewife. we then talked of the country, its climate and productions, until a late hour, when we laid ourselves down on bears' skins, and reposed till daybreak. i longed to accompany these hardy woodcutters to the hummock where they were engaged in preparing live-oak timber for a man-of-war. provided with axes and guns, we left the house to the care of the wife and children, and proceeded for several miles through a pine-barren, such as i have attempted to describe. one fine wild turkey was shot, and when we arrived at the _shanty_ put up near the hummock, we found another party of wood-cutters waiting our arrival, before eating their breakfast, already prepared by a negro man, to whom the turkey was consigned to be roasted for part of that day's dinner. our repast was an excellent one, and vied with a kentucky breakfast; beef, fish, potatoes, and other vegetables, were served up, with coffee in tin cups, and plenty of biscuit. every man seemed hungry and happy, and the conversation assumed the most humorous character. the sun now rose above the trees, and all, excepting the cook, proceeded to the hummock, on which i had been gazing with great delight, as it promised rare sport. my host, i found, was the chief of the party; and although he also had an axe, he made no other use of it than for stripping here and there pieces of bark from certain trees which he considered of doubtful soundness. he was not only well versed in his profession, but generally intelligent, and from him i received the following account, which i noted at the time. the men who are employed in cutting the live-oak, after having discovered a good hummock, build shanties of small logs, to retire to at night, and feed in by day. their provisions consist of beef, pork, potatoes, biscuit, flour, rice and fish, together with excellent whiskey. they are mostly hale, strong, and active men, from the eastern parts of the union, and receive excellent wages, according to their different abilities. their labors are only of a few months' duration. such hummocks as are found near navigable streams are first chosen, and when it is absolutely necessary, the timber is sometimes hauled five or six miles to the nearest water-course, where, although it sinks, it can with comparative ease, be shipped to its destination. the best time for cutting the live-oak is considered to be from the first of december to the beginning of march, or while the sap is completely down. when the sap is flowing, the tree is "bloom," and more apt to be "shaken." the white-rot, which occurs so frequently in the live-oak, and is perceptible only by the best judges, consists of round spots, about an inch and a half in diameter, on the outside of the bark, through which, at that spot, a hard stick may be driven several inches, and generally follows the heart up or down the trunk of the tree. so deceiving are these spots and trees to persons unacquainted with this defect, that thousands of trees are cut, and afterwards abandoned. the great number of trees of this sort strewn in the woods would tend to make a stranger believe that there is much more good oak in the country than there really is; and perhaps, in reality, not more than one-fourth of the quantity usually reported, is to be procured. the live-oakers generally revisit their distant homes in the middle and eastern districts, where they spend the summer, returning to the floridas at the approach of winter. some, however, who have gone there with their families, remain for years in succession; although they suffer much from the climate, by which their once good constitutions are often greatly impaired. this was the case with the individual above mentioned, from whom i subsequently received much friendly assistance in my pursuits. spring garden having heard many wonderful accounts of a certain spring near the sources of the st. john's river in east florida, i resolved to visit it, in order to judge for myself. on the th of january, , i left the plantation of my friend john bulow, accompanied by an amiable and accomplished scotch gentleman, an engineer employed by the planters of those districts in erecting their sugar-house establishments. we were mounted on horses of the indian breed, remarkable for their activity and strength, and were provided with guns and some provisions. the weather was pleasant, but not so our way, for no sooner had we left the "king's road," which had been cut by the spanish government for a goodly distance, than we entered a thicket of scrubby oaks, succeeded by a still denser mass of low palmettoes, which extended about three miles, and among the roots of which our nags had great difficulty in making good their footing. after this we entered the pine barrens, so extensively distributed in this portion of the floridas. the sand seemed to be all sand and nothing but sand, and the palmettoes at times so covered the narrow indian trail which we followed, that it required all the instinct or sagacity of ourselves and our horses to keep it. it seemed to us as if we were approaching the end of the world. the country was perfectly flat, and, so far as we could survey it, presented the same wild and scraggy aspect. my companion, who had travelled there before, assured me that, at particular seasons of the year, he had crossed the barrens when they were covered with water fully knee-deep, when, according to his expression, they "looked most awful;" and i readily believed him, as we now and then passed through muddy pools, which reached the saddle-girths of our horses. here and there large tracts covered with tall grasses, and resembling the prairies of the western wilds, opened to our view. wherever the country happened to be sunk a little beneath the general level, it was covered with cypress trees, whose spreading arms were hung with a profusion of spanish moss. the soil in such cases consisted of black mud, and was densely covered with bushes, chiefly of the magnolia family. we crossed in succession the heads of three branches of haw creek, of which the waters spread from a quarter to half a mile in breadth, and through which we made our way with extreme difficulty. while in the middle of one, my companion told me that once, when in the very spot where we then stood, his horse chanced to place his fore-feet on the back of a large alligator, which, not well pleased at being disturbed in his repose, suddenly raised his head, opened his monstrous jaws, and snapped off part of the lips of the affrighted pony. you may imagine the terror of the poor beast, which, however, after a few plunges, resumed its course, and succeeded in carrying its rider through in safety. as a reward for this achievement, it was ever after honored with the appellation of "alligator." we had now travelled about twenty miles, and, the sun having reached the zenith, we dismounted to partake of some refreshment. from a muddy pool we contrived to obtain enough of tolerably clear water to mix with the contents of a bottle, the like of which i would strongly recommend to every traveller in these swampy regions; our horses, too, found something to grind among the herbage that surrounded the little pool; but as little time was to be lost, we quickly remounted, and resumed our disagreeable journey, during which we had at no time proceeded at a rate exceeding two miles and a half in the hour. all at once, however, a wonderful change took place:--the country became more elevated and undulating; the timber was of a different nature, and consisted of red and live-oaks, magnolias, and several kinds of pine. thousands of "mole-hills," or the habitations of an animal here called "the salamander," and "gopher's burrows" presented themselves to the eye, and greatly annoyed our horses, which now and then sank to the depth of a foot, and stumbled at the risk of breaking their legs, and what we considered fully as valuable, our necks. we now saw beautiful lakes of the purest water, and passed along a green space, having a series of them on each side of us. these sheets of water became larger and more numerous the farther we advanced--some of them extending to a length of several miles, and having a depth of from two to twenty feet of clear water; but their shores being destitute of vegetation, we observed no birds near them. many tortoises, however, were seen basking in the sun, and all, as we approached, plunged into the water. not a trace of man did we observe during our journey, scarcely a bird, and not a single quadruped, not even a rat; nor can one imagine a poorer and more desolate country than that which lies between the halifax river, which we had left in the morning, and the undulating grounds at which we had now arrived. but at length we perceived the tracks of living beings, and soon after saw the huts of colonel rees's negroes. scarcely could ever african traveller have approached the city of timbuctoo with more excited curiosity than we felt in approaching this plantation. our indian horses seemed to participate in our joy, and trotted at a smart rate towards the principal building, at the door of which we leaped from our saddles, just as the sun was withdrawing his ruddy light. colonel rees was at home, and received us with great kindness. refreshments were immediately placed before us, and we spent the evening in agreeable conversation. the next day i walked over the plantation, and examining the country around, found the soil of good quality, it having been reclaimed from swampy ground of a black color, rich, and very productive. the greater part of the cultivated land was on the borders of a lake, which communicates with others, leading to the st. john's river, distant about seven miles, and navigable so far by vessels not exceeding fifty or sixty tons. after breakfast, our amiable host showed us the way to the celebrated spring, the sight of which afforded me pleasure sufficient to counterbalance the tediousness of my journey. this spring presents a circular basin, having a diameter of about sixty feet, from the centre of which the water is thrown up with great force, although it does not rise to a height of more than a few inches above the general level. a kind of whirlpool is formed, on the edges of which are deposited vast quantities of shells, with pieces of wood, gravel, and other substances, which have coalesced into solid masses, having a very curious appearance. the water is quite transparent, although of a dark color, but so impregnated with sulphur that it emits an odor which to me was highly nauseous. its surface lies fifteen or twenty feet below the level of the woodland lakes in the neighborhood, and its depth, in the autumnal months, is about seventeen feet, when the water is lowest. in all the lakes, the same species of shell as those thrown up by the spring, occur in abundance, and it seems more than probable that it is formed of the water collected from them by infiltration, or forms the subterranean outlet of some of them. the lakes themselves are merely reservoirs, containing the residue of the waters which fall during the rainy seasons, and contributing to supply the waters of the st. john's river, with which they all seem to communicate by similar means. this spring pours its waters into "rees's lake," through a deep and broad channel called spring garden creek. this channel is said to be in some places fully sixty feet deep, but it becomes more shallow as you advance towards the entrance of the lake, at which you are surprised to find yourself on a mud-flat covered only by about fifteen inches of water, under which the depositions from the spring lie to a depth of four or five feet in the form of the softest mud, while under this again is a bed of fine white sand. when this mud is stirred up by the oars of your boat or otherwise, it appears of a dark-green color, and smells strongly of sulphur. at all times it sends up numerous bubbles of air, which probably consist of suphuretted hydrogen gas. the mouth of this curious spring is calculated to be two and a half feet square; and the velocity of its water, during the rainy season, is three feet per second. this would render the discharge per hour about , gallons. colonel rees showed us the remains of another spring of the same kind, which had dried up from some natural cause. my companion, the engineer, having occupation for another day, i requested colonel rees to accompany me in his boat towards the river st. john's, which i was desirous of seeing, as well as the curious country in its neighborhood. he readily agreed, and after an early breakfast next morning, we set out, accompanied by two servants to manage the boat. as we crossed rees's lake, i observed that its northeastern shores were bounded by a deep swamp, covered by a rich growth of tall cypresses, while the opposite side presented large marshes and islands ornamented by pines, live-oaks, and orange-trees. with the exception of a very narrow channel, the creek was covered with nympheæ, and in its waters swam numerous alligators, while ibises, gallinules, anhingas, coots, and cormorants were seen pursuing their avocations on its surface or along its margins. over our heads the fish hawks were sailing, and on the broken trees around we saw many of their nests. we followed spring garden creek for about two miles and a half, and passed a mud bar, before we entered "dexter's lake." the bar was stuck full of unios, in such profusion that each time the negroes thrust their hands into the mud they took up several. according to their report these shell-fish are quite unfit for food. in this lake the water had changed its hue, and assumed a dark chestnut color, although it was still transparent. the depth was very uniformly five feet, and the extent of the lake was about eight miles by three. having crossed it we followed the creek, and soon saw the entrance of woodruff's lake, which empties its still darker waters into the st. john's river. i here shot a pair of curious ibises, which you will find described in my fourth volume, and landed on a small island covered with wild orange trees, the luxuriance and freshness of which were not less pleasing to the sight than the perfume of their flowers was to the smell. the group seemed to me like a rich bouquet formed by nature to afford consolation to the weary traveller, cast down by the dismal scenery of swamps and pools and rank grass around him. under the shade of these beautiful evergreens, and amidst the golden fruits that covered the ground, while the humming-birds fluttered over our heads, we spread our cloth on the grass, and with a happy and thankful heart, i refreshed myself with the bountiful gifts of an ever-careful providence. colonel rees informed me that this charming retreat was one of the numerous _terræ incognitæ_ of this region of lakes, and that it should henceforth bear the name of "audubon's isle." in conclusion, let me inform you that the spring has been turned to good account by my generous host, colonel rees, who, aided by my amiable companion, the engineer, has directed its current so as to turn a mill, which suffices to grind the whole of his sugar-cane. death of a pirate in the calm of a fine moonlight night, as i was admiring the beauty of the clear heavens, and the broad glare of light that glanced from the trembling surface of the waters around, the officer on watch came up and entered into conversation with me. he had been a turtler in other years, and a great hunter to boot, and although of humble birth and pretensions, energy and talent, aided by education, had raised him to a higher station. such a man could not fail to be an agreeable companion, and we talked on various subjects, principally, you may be sure, birds and other natural productions. he told me he once had a disagreeable adventure, when looking out for game, in a certain cove on the shores of the gulf of mexico; and, on my expressing a desire to hear it, he willingly related to me the following particulars, which i give you, not, perhaps, precisely in his own words, but as nearly so as i can remember. "towards evening, one quiet summer day, i chanced to be paddling along a sandy shore, which i thought well fitted for my repose, being covered with tall grass, and as the sun was not many degrees above the horizon, i felt anxious to pitch my mosquito bar or net, and spend the night in this wilderness. the bellowing notes of thousands of bull-frogs in a neighboring swamp might lull me to rest, and i looked upon the flocks of blackbirds that were assembling as sure companions in this secluded retreat. "i proceeded up a little stream, to insure the safety of my canoe from any sudden storm, when, as i gladly advanced, a beautiful yawl came unexpectedly in view. surprised at such a sight in a part of the country then scarcely known, i felt a sudden check in the circulation of my blood. my paddle dropped from my hands, and fearfully indeed, as i picked it up, did i look towards the unknown boat. on reaching it, i saw its sides marked with stains of blood, and looking with anxiety over the gunwale, i perceived, to my horror, two human bodies covered with gore. pirates or hostile indians, i was persuaded, had perpetrated the foul deed, and my alarm naturally increased; my heart fluttered, stopped, and heaved with unusual tremors, and i looked towards the setting sun in consternation and despair. how long my reveries lasted i cannot tell; i can only recollect that i was roused from them by the distant groans of one apparently in mortal agony. i felt as if refreshed by the cold perspiration that oozed from every pore, and i reflected that though alone, i was well armed, and might hope for the protection of the almighty. "humanity whispered to me that, if not surprised and disabled, i might render assistance to some sufferer, or even be the means of saving a useful life. buoyed up by this thought, i urged my canoe on shore, and seizing it by the bow, pulled it at one spring high among the grass. "the groans of the unfortunate person fell heavy on my ear as i cocked and reprimed my gun, and i felt determined to shoot the first that should rise from the grass. as i cautiously proceeded, a hand was raised over the weeds, and waved in the air in the most supplicating manner. i levelled my gun about a foot below it, when the next moment the head and breast of a man covered with blood were convulsively raised, and a faint hoarse voice asked me for mercy and help! a deathlike silence followed his fall to the ground. i surveyed every object around with eyes intent, and ears impressible by the slightest sound, for my situation that moment i thought as critical as any i had ever been in. the croaking of the frogs, and the last blackbirds alighting on their roosts, were the only sounds or sights; and i now proceeded towards the object of my mingled alarm and commiseration. "alas! the poor being who lay prostrate at my feet was so weakened by loss of blood that i had nothing to fear from him. my first impulse was to run back to the water, and having done so, i returned with my cap filled to the brim. i felt at his heart, washed his face and breast, and rubbed his temples with the contents of a phial which i kept about me as an antidote for the bites of snakes. his features, seamed by the ravages of time, looked frightful and disgusting; but he had been a powerful man, as the breadth of his chest plainly showed. he groaned in the most appalling manner, as his breath struggled through the mass of blood that seemed to fill his throat. his dress plainly disclosed his occupation. a large pistol he had thrust into his bosom, a naked cutlass lay near him on the ground, a red silk handkerchief was bound over his projecting brows, and over a pair of loose trousers he wore fisherman's boots. he was, in short, a pirate. "my exertions were not in vain, for as i continued to bathe his temples he revived, his pulse resumed some strength, and i began to hope that he might perhaps survive the deep wounds he had received. darkness, deep darkness, now enveloped us. i spoke of making a fire. 'oh! for mercy's sake,' he exclaimed, 'don't.' knowing, however, that under existing circumstances it was expedient for me to do so, i left him, went to his boat, and brought the rudder, the benches, and the oars, which with my hatchet i soon splintered. i then struck a light, and presently stood in the glare of a blazing fire. the pirate seemed struggling between terror and gratitude for my assistance; he desired me several times in half english and spanish to put out the flames; but after i had given him a draught of strong spirits, he at length became more composed. i tried to stanch the blood that flowed from the deep gashes in his shoulders and side. i expressed my regret that i had no food about me, but when i spoke of eating he sullenly waved his head. "my situation was one of the most extraordinary that i have ever been placed in. i naturally turned my talk towards religious subjects, but, alas, the dying man hardly believed in the existence of a god. 'friend,' said he, 'for friend you seem to be, i have never studied the ways of him of whom you talk. i am an outlaw, perhaps you will say a wretch--i have been for many years a pirate. the instructions of my parents were of no avail to me, for i have always believed that i was born to be a most cruel man. i now lie here, about to die in the weeds, because i long ago refused to listen to their many admonitions. do not shudder when i tell you--these now useless hands murdered the mother whom they had embraced. i feel that i have deserved the pangs of the wretched death that hovers over me; and i am thankful that one of my kind will alone witness my last gaspings.' "a fond but feeble hope that i might save his life, and perhaps assist in procuring his pardon, induced me to speak to him on the subject. 'it is all in vain, friend--i have no objection to die--i am glad that the villains who wounded me were not my conquerors--i want no pardon from _any one_. give me some water, and let me die alone.' with the hope that i might learn from his conversation something that might lead to the capture of his guilty associates, i returned from the creek with another capful of water, nearly the whole of which i managed to introduce into his parched mouth, and begged him, for the sake of his future peace, to disclose his history to me. 'it is impossible,' said he; 'there will not be time, the beatings of my heart tell me so. long before day these sinewy limbs will be motionless. nay, there will hardly be a drop of blood in my body; and that blood will only serve to make the grass grow. my wounds are mortal, and i must and will die without what you call confession.' "the moon rose in the east. the majesty of her placid beauty impressed me with reverence. i pointed towards her, and asked the pirate if he could not recognize god's features there. 'friend, i see what you are driving at,' was his answer; 'you, like the rest of our enemies, feel the desire of murdering us all. well--be it so. to die is, after all, nothing more than a jest; and were it not for the pain, no one, in my opinion, need care a jot about it. but, as you really have befriended me, i will tell you all that is proper.' "hoping his mind might take a useful turn, i again bathed his temples, and washed his lips with spirits. his sunk eyes seemed to dart fire at mine; a heavy and deep sigh swelled his chest, and struggled through his blood-choked throat, and he asked me to raise him for a little. i did so, when he addressed me somewhat as follows; for, as i have told you, his speech was a mixture of spanish, french, and english, forming a jargon the like of which i had never heard before, and which i am utterly unable to imitate. however, i shall give you the substance of his declaration. "'first, tell me how many bodies you found in the boat, and what sort of dresses they had on.' i mentioned their number and described their apparel. 'that's right,' said he; 'they are the bodies of the scoundrels who followed me in that infernal yankee barge. bold rascals they were, for when they found the water too shallow for their craft, they took to it, and waded after me. all my companions had been shot, and to lighten my own boat i flung them overboard; but as i lost time in this, the two ruffians caught hold of my gunwale, and struck on my head and body in such a manner that after i had disabled and killed them both in the boat, i was scarce able to move. the other villains carried off our schooner and one of our boats, and perhaps ere now have hung all my companions whom they did not kill at the time. i have commanded my beautiful vessel many years, captured many ships, and sent many rascals to the devil. i always hated the yankees, and only regret that i have not killed more of them.--i sailed from matanzas.--i have often been in concert with others. i have money without counting, but it is buried where it will never be found, and it would be useless to tell you of it.' his throat filled with blood, his voice failed, the cold hand of death was laid on his brow; feebly and hurriedly he muttered, 'i am a dying man. farewell!' "alas! it is painful to see death in any shape; in this it was horrible, for there was no hope. the rattling of his throat announced the moment of dissolution, and already did the body fall on my arms with a weight that was insupportable. i laid him on the ground. a mass of dark blood poured from his mouth; then came a frightful groan, the last breathing of that foul spirit; and what now lay at my feet in the wild desert?--a mangled mass of clay! "the remainder of that night was passed in no enviable mood; but my feelings cannot be described. at dawn i dug a hole with the paddle of my canoe, rolled the body into it, and covered it. on reaching the boat i found several buzzards feeding on the bodies, which i in vain attempted to drag to the shore. i therefore covered them with mud and weeds, and launching my canoe, paddled from the cove with a secret joy for my escape, overshadowed with the gloom of mingled dread and abhorrence." the wreckers of florida long before i reached the lovely islets that border the southeastern shores of the floridas, the accounts i had heard of "the wreckers" had deeply prejudiced me against them. often had i been informed of the cruel and cowardly methods which it was alleged they employed to allure vessels of all nations to the dreaded reefs, that they might plunder their cargoes, and rob their crews and passengers of their effects. i therefore could have little desire to meet with such men under any circumstances, much less to become liable to receive their aid; and with the name of wreckers there were associated in my mind ideas of piratical depredations, barbarous usage, and even murder. one fair afternoon, while i was standing on the polished deck of the united states revenue cutter, the "marion," a sail hove in sight, bearing in an opposite course, and close-hauled to the wind. the gentle rake of her masts, as she rocked to and fro in the breeze, brought to my mind the wavings of the reeds on the fertile banks of the mississippi. by and by the vessel, altering her course, approached us. the "marion," like a sea-bird with extended wings, swept through the waters, gently inclining to either side, while the unknown vessel leaped as it were, from wave to wave, like the dolphin in eager pursuit of his prey. in a short time we were gliding side by side, and the commander of the strange schooner saluted our captain, who promptly returned the compliment. what a beautiful vessel! we all thought; how trim, how clean rigged, and how well manned! she swims like a duck; and now with a broad sheer, off she makes for the reefs a few miles under our lee. there, in that narrow passage, well known to her commander, she rolls, tumbles, and dances, like a giddy thing, her copper sheathing now gleaming and again disappearing under the waves. but the passage is thridded, and now, hauling on the wind, she resumes her former course, and gradually recedes from the view. reader, it was a florida wrecker. when at the tortugas, i paid a visit to several vessels of this kind, in company with my excellent friend robert day, esq. we had observed the regularity and quickness of the men then employed at their arduous tasks, and as we approached the largest schooner, i admired her form, so well adapted to her occupation, her great breadth of beam, her light draught, the correctness of her water-line, the neatness of her painted sides, the smoothness of her well-greased masts, and the beauty of her rigging. we were welcomed on board with all the frankness of our native tars. silence and order prevailed on her decks. the commander and the second officer led us into a spacious cabin, well-lighted, and furnished with every convenience for fifteen or more passengers. the former brought me his collection of marine shells, and whenever i pointed to one that i had not seen before, offered it with so much kindness that i found it necessary to be careful in expressing my admiration of any particular shell. he had also many eggs of rare birds, which were all handed over to me, with an assurance that before the month should expire, a new set could easily be procured; "for," said he, "we have much idle time on the reefs at this season." dinner was served, and we partook of their fare, which consisted of fish, fowl, and other materials. these rovers, who were both from "down east," were stout, active men, cleanly and smart in their attire. in a short time we were all extremely social and merry. they thought my visit to the tortugas, in quest of birds, was rather a "curious fancy;" but, notwithstanding, they expressed their pleasure while looking at some of my drawings, and offered their services in procuring specimens. expeditions far and near were proposed, and on settling that one of them was to take place on the morrow, we parted friends. early next morning, several of these kind men accompanied me to a small key called booby island, about ten miles distant from the lighthouse. their boats were well-manned, and rowed with long and steady strokes, such as whalers and men-of-war's men are wont to draw. the captain sang, and at times, by way of frolic, ran a race with our own beautiful bark. the booby isle was soon reached, and our sport there was equal to any we had elsewhere. they were capital shots, had excellent guns, and knew more about boobies and noddies than nine-tenths of the best naturalists in the world. but what will you say when i tell you the florida wreckers are excellent at a deer hunt, and that at certain seasons, "when business is slack," they are wont to land on some extensive key, and in a few hours procure a supply of delicious venison. some days afterwards, the same party took me on an expedition in quest of sea shells. there we were all in water, at times to the waist, and now and then much deeper. now they would dip, like ducks, and on emerging would hold up a beautiful shell. this occupation they seemed to enjoy above all others. the duties of the "marion," having been performed, intimation of our intended departure reached the wreckers. an invitation was sent to me to go and see them on board their vessels, which i accepted. their object on this occasion was to present me with some superb corals, shells, live turtles of the hawk-bill species, and a great quantity of eggs. not a "picayune" would they receive in return, but putting some letters in my hands, requested me "to be so good as to put them in the mail at charleston," adding that they were for their wives "down east." so anxious did they appear to be to do all they could for me, that they proposed to sail before the "marion," and meet her under way, to give me some birds that were rare on the coast, and of which they knew the haunts. circumstances connected with "the service" prevented this, however, and with sincere regret, and a good portion of friendship, i bade these excellent fellows adieu. how different, thought i, is often the knowledge of things acquired by personal observation from that obtained by report! i had never before seen florida wreckers, nor has it since been my fortune to fall in with any; but my good friend dr. benjamin strobel, having furnished me with a graphic account of a few days which he spent with them, i shall present you with it in his own words:-- "on the th day of september, while lying in harbor at indian key, we were joined by five wrecking vessels. their licenses having expired, it was necessary to go to key west to renew them. we determined to accompany them the next morning; and here it will not be amiss for me to say a few words respecting these far-famed wreckers, their captains and crews. from all that i had heard, i expected to see a parcel of dirty, pirate-looking vessels, officered and manned by a set of black-whiskered fellows, who carried murder in their very looks. i was agreeably surprised on discovering the vessels were fine large sloops and schooners, regular clippers, kept in first-rate order. the captains generally were jovial, good-natured sons of neptune who manifested a disposition to be polite and hospitable, and to afford every facility to persons passing up and down the reef. the crews were hearty, well-dressed and honest-looking men. "on the th, at the appointed hour, we all set sail together; that is, the five wreckers and the schooner 'jane.' as our vessel was not noted for fast sailing, we accepted an invitation to go on board of a wrecker. the fleet got under way about eight o'clock in the morning, the wind light but fair, the water smooth, the day fine. i can scarcely find words to express the pleasure and gratification which i this day experienced. the sea was of a beautiful, soft, pea-green color, smooth as a sheet of glass, and as transparent, its surface agitated only by our vessels as they parted its bosom, or by the pelican in pursuit of his prey, which rising for a considerable distance in the air, would suddenly plunge down with distended mandibles, and secure his food. the vessels of our little fleet with every sail set that could catch a breeze, and the white foam curling round the prows, glided silently along, like islands of flitting shadows, on an immovable sea of light. several fathoms below the surface of the water, and under us, we saw great quantities of fish diving and sporting among the sea-grass, sponges, sea-feathers, and corals, with which the bottom was covered. on our right hand were the florida keys, which, as we made them in the distance, looked like specks upon the surface of the water, but as we neared them, rose to view as if by enchantment, clad in the richest livery of spring, each variety of color and hue rendered soft and delicate by a clear sky and a brilliant sun overhead. all was like a fairy scene; my heart leaped up in delighted admiration, and i could not but exclaim, in the language of scott,-- 'those seas behold round thrice an hundred islands rolled. the trade wind played round us with balmy and refreshing sweetness; and, to give life and animation to the scene, we had a contest for the mastery between all the vessels of the fleet, while a deep interest was excited in favor of this or that vessel, as she shot ahead, or fell astern. "about three o'clock in the afternoon, we arrived off the bay of honda. the wind being light and no prospect of reaching key west that night, it was agreed that we should make a harbor here. we entered a beautiful basin, and came to anchor about four o'clock. boats were got out, and several hunting parties formed. we landed, and were soon on the scent, some going in search of shells, others of birds. an indian, who had been picked up somewhere along the coast by a wrecker, and who was employed as a hunter, was sent ashore in search of venison. previous to his leaving the vessel, a rifle was loaded with a single ball and put into his hands. after an absence of several hours, he returned with two deer, which he had killed at a single shot. he watched until they were both in range of his gun, side by side, when he fired and brought them down. "all hands having returned, and the fruits of our excursion being collected, we had wherewithal to make an abundant supper. most of the game was sent on board the largest vessel, where we proposed supping. our vessels were all lying within hail of each other, and as soon as the moon arose, boats were seen passing from vessel to vessel, and all were busily and happily engaged in exchanging civilities. one could never have supposed that these men were professional rivals, so apparent was the good feeling that prevailed among them. about nine o'clock we started for supper; a number of persons had already collected, and as soon as we arrived on board the vessel, a german sailor, who played remarkably well on the violin, was summoned on the quarter-deck, when all hands, with a good will, cheerily danced to lively airs until supper was ready. the table was laid in the cabin, and groaned under its load of venison, wild ducks, pigeons, curlews, and fish. toasting and singing succeeded the supper, and among other curious matters introduced, the following song was sung by the german fiddler, who accompanied his voice with his instrument. he is said to be the author of the song. i say nothing of the poetry, but merely give it as it came on my ear. it is certainly very characteristic:-- the wreckers' song. come, ye good people, one and all, come listen to my song; a few remarks i have to make, which won't be very long. 'tis of our vessel, stout and good as ever yet was built of wood, along the reef where the breakers roar, the wreckers on the florida shore! key tavernier's our rendezvous; at anchor there we lie, and see the vessels in the gulf, carelessly passing by. when night comes on we dance and sing, whilst the current some vessel is floating in; when daylight comes, a ship's on shore, among the rocks where the breakers roar. when daylight dawns we're under way, and every sail is set, and if the wind it should prove light, why, then our sails we wet. to gain her first each eager strives, to save the cargo and the people's lives, amongst the rocks where the breakers roar, the wreckers on the florida shore. when we get 'longside we find she's bilged; we know well what to do, save the cargo that we can. the sails and rigging too; then down to key west we soon will go, when quickly our salvage we shall know; when everything it is fairly sold, our money down to us it is told. then one week's _cruise_ we'll have on shore, before we do sail again, and drink success to the sailor lads that are ploughing of the main. and when you are passing by this way, on the florida reef should you chance to stray, why we will come to you on the shore, amongst the rocks where the breakers roar. great emphasis was laid upon particular words by the singer, who had a broad german accent. between the verses he played an interlude, remarking, 'gentlemen, i makes dat myself.' the chorus was trolled by twenty or thirty voices, which, in the stillness of the night, produced no unpleasant effect." st. john's river in florida soon after landing at st. augustine, in east florida, i formed acquaintance with dr. simmons, dr. porcher, judge smith, the misses johnson, and other individuals, my intercourse with whom was as agreeable as beneficial to me. lieutenant constantine smith, of the united states army, i found of a congenial spirit, as was the case with my amiable but since deceased friend, dr. bell of dublin. among the planters who extended their hospitality to me, i must particularly mention general hernandez, and my esteemed friend john bulow, esq. to all these estimable individuals i offer my sincere thanks. while in this part of the peninsula i followed my usual avocation, although with little success, it then being winter. i had letters from the secretaries of the navy and treasury of the united states, to the commanding officers of vessels of war of the revenue service, directing them to afford me any assistance in their power; and the schooner "spark" having come to st. augustine, on her way to the st. john's river, i presented my credentials to her commander lieutenant piercy, who readily and with politeness received me and my assistants on board. we soon after set sail with a fair breeze. the strict attention to duty on board even this small vessel of war, afforded matter of surprise to me. everything went on with the regularity of a chronometer: orders were given, answered to, and accomplished, before they had ceased to vibrate on the ear. the neatness of the crew equalled the cleanliness of the white planks of the deck; the sails were in perfect condition; and, built as the "spark" was, for swift sailing, on she went, gambolling from wave to wave. [illustration: tringa alpina, red-backed sandpiper. (now pelidna alpina pacifica.) from the unpublished drawing by j. j. audubon, november , .] i thought that, while thus sailing, no feeling but that of pleasure could exist in our breasts; but, alas! how fleeting are our enjoyments. when we were almost at the entrance of the river, the wind changed, the sky became clouded, and, before many minutes had elapsed, the little bark was lying to "like a duck," as her commander expressed himself. it blew a hurricane--let it blow, reader. at break of day we were again at anchor within the bar of st. augustine. our next attempt was successful. not many hours after we had crossed the bar, we perceived the star-like glimmer of the light in the great lantern at the entrance of the st. john's river. this was before daylight; and, as the crossing of the sand-banks or bars, which occur at the mouths of all the streams of this peninsula is difficult, and can be accomplished only when the tide is up, one of the guns was fired as a signal for the government pilot. the good man, it seemed, was unwilling to leave his couch, but a second gun brought him in his canoe alongside. the depth of the channel was barely sufficient. my eyes, however, were not directed towards the waters, but on high, where flew some thousands of snowy pelicans, which had fled affrighted from their resting-grounds. how beautifully they performed their broad gyrations, and how matchless, after a while, was the marshalling of their files, as they flew past us. on the tide we proceeded apace. myriads of cormorants covered the face of the waters, and over it fish-crows innumerable were already arriving from their distant roosts. we landed at one place to search for the birds whose charming melodies had engaged our attention, and here and there some young eagles we shot, to add to our store of fresh provisions. the river did not seem to me equal in beauty to the fair ohio; the shores were in many places low and swampy, to the great delight of the numberless herons that moved along in gracefulness, and the grim alligators that swam in sluggish sullenness. in going up a bayou, we caught a great number of the young of the latter for the purpose of making experiments upon them. after sailing a considerable way, during which our commander and officers took the soundings, as well as the angles and bearings of every nook and crook of the sinuous stream, we anchored one evening at a distance of fully one hundred miles from the mouth of the river. the weather, although it was the th of february, was quite warm, the thermometer on board standing at °, and on shore at °. the fog was so thick that neither of the shores could be seen, and yet the river was not a mile in breadth. the "blind mosquitoes" covered every object, even in the cabin, and so wonderfully abundant were these tormentors that they more than once fairly extinguished the candles whilst i was writing my journal, which i closed in despair, crushing between the leaves more than a hundred of the little wretches. bad as they are, however, these blind mosquitoes do not bite. as if purposely to render our situation doubly uncomfortable, there was an establishment for jerking beef on the nearer shores, to the windward of our vessel, from which the breeze came laden with no sweet odors. in the morning when i arose, the country was still covered with thick fogs, so that although i could plainly hear the notes of the birds on shore, not an object could i see beyond the bowsprit, and the air was as close and sultry as on the previous evening. guided by the scent of the jerkers' works we went on shore, where we found the vegetation already far advanced. the blossoms of the jessamine, ever pleasing, lay steeped in dew, the humming bee was collecting her winter's store from the snowy flowers of the native orange; and the little warblers frisked along the twigs of the smilax. now, amid the tall pines of the forest, the sun's rays began to force their way, and as the dense mists dissolved in the atmosphere, the bright luminary at length shone forth. we explored the woods around, guided by some friendly live-oakers who had pitched their camp in the vicinity. after a while the "spark" again displayed her sails, and as she silently glided along, we spied a seminole indian approaching us in his canoe. the poor, dejected son of the woods, endowed with talents of the highest order, although rarely acknowledged by the proud usurpers of his native soil, has spent the night in fishing, and the morning in procuring the superb feathered game of the swampy thickets; and with both he comes to offer them for our acceptance. alas! thou fallen one, descendant of an ancient line of freeborn hunters, would that i could restore to thee thy birthright, thy natural independence, the generous feelings that were once fostered in thy brave bosom. but the irrevocable deed is done, and i can merely admire the perfect symmetry of his frame, as he dexterously throws on our deck the trout and turkeys which he has captured. he receives a recompense, and without smile or bow, or acknowledgment of any kind, off he starts with the speed of an arrow from his own bow. alligators were extremely abundant, and the heads of the fishes which they had snapped off, lay floating around on the dark waters. a rifle bullet was now and then sent through the eye of one of the largest, which, with a tremendous splash of its tail, expired. one morning we saw a monstrous fellow lying on the shore. i was desirous of obtaining him to make an accurate drawing of his head, and accompanied by my assistant and two of the sailors, proceeded cautiously towards him. when within a few yards, one of us fired, and sent through his side an ounce ball which tore open a hole large enough to receive a man's hand. he slowly raised his head, bent himself upwards, opened his huge jaws, swung his tail to and fro, rose on his legs, blew in a frightful manner, and fell to the earth. my assistant leaped on shore, and, contrary to my injunctions, caught hold of the animal's tail, when the alligator, awakening from its trance, with a last effort crawled slowly towards the water, and plunged heavily into it. had he thought of once flourishing his tremendous weapon, there might have been an end of his assailant's life, but he fortunately went in peace to his grave, where we left him, as the water was too deep. the same morning, another of equal size was observed swimming directly for the bows of our vessel, attracted by the gentle rippling of the water there. one of the officers, who had watched him, fired, and scattered his brain through the air, when he tumbled and rolled at a fearful rate, blowing all the while most furiously. the river was bloody for yards around, but although the monster passed close by the vessel, we could not secure him, and after a while he sunk to the bottom. early one morning, i hired a boat and two men, with the view of returning to st. augustine by a short-cut. our baggage being placed on board, i bade adieu to the officers, and off we started. about four in the afternoon we arrived at the short-cut, forty miles distant from our point of departure, and where we had expected to procure a wagon, but were disappointed. so we laid our things on the bank, and leaving one of my assistants to look after them, i set out accompanied by the other and my newfoundland dog. we had eighteen miles to go; and as the sun was only two hours high, we struck off at a good rate. presently we entered a pine-barren. the country was as level as a floor; our path, although narrow, was well-beaten, having been used by the seminole indians for ages, and the weather was calm and beautiful. now and then a rivulet occurred, from which we quenched our thirst, while the magnolias and other flowering plants on its banks relieved the dull uniformity of the woods. when the path separated into two branches, both seemingly leading the same way, i would follow one, while my companion took the other, and unless we met again in a short time, one of us would go across the intervening forest. the sun went down behind a cloud, and the southeast breeze that sprung up at this moment, sounded dolefully among the tall pines. along the eastern horizon lay a bed of black vapor, which gradually rose, and soon covered the heavens. the air felt hot and oppressive, and we knew that a tempest was approaching. plato was now our guide, the white spots on his coat being the only objects that we could discern amid the darkness, and as if aware of his utility in this respect, he kept a short way before us on the trail. had we imagined ourselves more than a few miles from the town, we should have made a camp, and remained under its shelter for the night; but conceiving that the distance could not be great, we resolved to trudge along. large drops began to fall from the murky mass overhead; thick impenetrable darkness surrounded us, and to my dismay, the dog refused to proceed. groping with my hands on the ground, i discovered that several trails branched out at the spot where he lay down; and when i had selected one, he went on. vivid flashes of lightning streamed across the heavens, the wind increased to a gale, and the rain poured down upon us like a torrent. the water soon rose on the level ground so as almost to cover our feet, and we slowly advanced, fronting the tempest. here and there a tall pine on fire presented a magnificent spectacle, illumining the trees around it, and surrounding them with a halo of dim light, abruptly bordered with the deep black of the night. at one time we passed through a tangled thicket of low trees, at another crossed a stream flushed by the heavy rain, and again proceeded over the open barrens. how long we thus, half lost, groped our way is more than i can tell you; but at length the tempest passed over, and suddenly the clear sky became spangled with stars. soon after, we smelt the salt marshes, and walking directly towards them, like pointers advancing on a covey of partridges, we at last to our great joy descried the light of the beacon near st. augustine. my dog began to run briskly around, having met with ground on which he had hunted before, and taking a direct course, led us to the great causeway that crosses the marshes at the back of the town. we refreshed ourselves with the produce of the first orange-tree that we met with, and in half an hour more arrived at our hotel. drenched with rain, steaming with perspiration, and covered to the knees with mud, you may imagine what figures we cut in the eyes of the good people whom we found snugly enjoying themselves in the sitting-room. next morning, major gates, who had received me with much kindness, sent a wagon with mules and two trusty soldiers for my companion and luggage. the florida keys i as the "marion" neared the inlet called "indian key," which is situated on the eastern coast of the peninsula of florida, my heart swelled with uncontrollable delight. our vessel once over the coral reef that everywhere stretches along the shore like a great wall reared by an army of giants, we found ourselves in safe anchoring grounds, within a few furlongs of the land. the next moment saw the oars of a boat propelling us towards the shore, and in brief time we stood on the desired beach. with what delightful feelings did we gaze on the objects around us!--the gorgeous flowers, the singular and beautiful plants, the luxuriant trees. the balmy air which we breathed filled us with animation, so pure and salubrious did it seem to be. the birds which we saw were almost all new to us; their lovely forms appeared to be arrayed in more brilliant apparel than i had ever seen before, and as they fluttered in happy playfulness among the bushes, or glided over the light green waters, we longed to form a more intimate acquaintance with them. students of nature spend little time in introductions, especially when they present themselves to persons who feel an interest in their pursuits. this was the case with mr. thruston, the deputy collector of the island, who shook us all heartily by the hand, and in a trice had a boat manned, and at our service. accompanied by him, his pilot and fishermen, off we went, and after a short pull landed on a large key. few minutes had elapsed when shot after shot might be heard, and down came whirling through the air the objects of our desire. one thrust himself into the tangled groves that covered all but the beautiful coral beach that in a continued line bordered the island, while others gazed on the glowing and diversified hues of the curious inhabitants of the deep. i saw one of my party rush into the limpid element to seize on a crab, that, with claws extended upward, awaited his approach, as if determined not to give way. a loud voice called him back to the land, for sharks are as abundant along these shores as pebbles, and the hungry prowlers could not have found a more savory dinner. the pilot, besides being a first-rate shot, possessed a most intimate acquaintance with the country. he had been a "conch diver," and no matter what number of fathoms measured the distance between the surface of the water and its craggy bottom, to seek for curious shells in their retreat seemed to him more pastime than toil. not a cormorant or pelican, a flamingo, an ibis, or heron had ever in his days formed its nest without his having marked the spot; and as to the keys to which the doves are wont to resort, he was better acquainted with them than many fops are with the contents of their pockets. in a word, he positively knew every channel that led to these islands, and every cranny along their shores. for years his employment had been to hunt those singular animals called sea-cows or manatees, and he had conquered hundreds of them, "merely," as he said, because the flesh and hide bring "a fair price" at havana. he never went anywhere to land without "long tom," which proved indeed to be a wonderful gun, and which made smart havoc when charged with "groceries" a term by which he designated the large shot he used. in like manner, he never paddled his light canoe without having by his side the trusty javelin with which he unerringly transfixed such fishes as he thought fit either for market or for his own use. in attacking turtles, netting, or overturning them, i doubt if his equal ever lived on the florida coast. no sooner was he made acquainted with my errand, than he freely offered his best services, and from that moment until i left key west he was seldom out of my hearing. while the young gentlemen who accompanied us were engaged in procuring plants, shells, and small birds, he tapped me on the shoulder, and with a smile said to me, "come along, i'll show you something better worth your while." to the boat we betook ourselves, with the captain and only a pair of tars, for more he said would not answer. the yawl for a while was urged at a great rate, but as we approached a point, the oars were taken in, and the pilot alone sculling desired us to make ready, for in a few minutes we should have "rare sport." as we advanced, the more slowly did we move, and the most profound silence was maintained, until suddenly coming almost in contact with a thick shrubbery of mangroves, we beheld, right before us, a multitude of pelicans. a discharge of artillery seldom produced more effect; the dead, the dying, and the wounded, fell from the trees upon the water, while those unscathed flew screaming through the air in terror and dismay. "there," said he, "did not i tell you so; is it not rare sport?" the birds, one after another, were lodged under the gunwales, when the pilot desired the captain to order the lads to pull away. within about half a mile we reached the extremity of the key. "pull away," cried the pilot, "never mind them on the wing, for those black rascals don't mind a little firing--now, boys, lay her close under the nests." and there we were with four hundred cormorant's nests over our heads. the birds were sitting, and when we fired, the number that dropped as if dead, and plunged into the water was such, that i thought by some unaccountable means or other we had killed the whole colony. you would have smiled at the loud laugh and curious gestures of the pilot. "gentlemen," said he, "almost a blank shot!" and so it was, for, on following the birds as one after another peeped up from the water, we found only a few unable to take to wing. "now," said the pilot, "had you waited until _i had spoken_ to the black villains, you might have killed a score or more of them." on inspection, we found that our shots had lodged in the tough dry twigs of which these birds form their nests, and that we had lost the more favorable opportunity of hitting them, by not waiting until they rose. "never mind," said the pilot, "if you wish it, you may load _the lady of the green mantle_[ ] with them in less than a week. stand still, my lads; and now, gentlemen, in ten minutes you and i will bring down a score of them." and so we did. as we rounded the island, a beautiful bird of the species called peale's egret came up, and was shot. we now landed, took in the rest of our party, and returned to indian key, where we arrived three hours before sunset. the sailors and other individuals to whom my name and pursuits had become known, carried our birds to the pilot's house. his good wife had a room ready for me to draw in, and my assistant might have been seen busily engaged in skinning, while george lehman was making a sketch of the lovely isle. time is ever precious to the student of nature. i placed several birds in their natural attitudes, and began to outline them. a dance had been prepared also, and no sooner was the sun lost to our eye, than males and females, including our captain and others from the vessel, were seen advancing gayly towards the house in full apparel. the birds were skinned, the sketch was on paper, and i told my young men to amuse themselves. as to myself, i could not join in the merriment, for, full of the remembrance of you, reader, and of the patrons of my work both in america and in europe, i went on "grinding"--not on an organ, like the lady of bras d'or, but on paper, to the finishing not merely of my outlines, but of my notes respecting the objects seen this day. the room adjoining that in which i worked was soon filled. two miserable fiddlers screwed their screeching, silken strings,--not an inch of catgut graced their instruments,--and the bouncing of brave lads and fair lasses shook the premises to the foundation. one with a slip came down heavily on the floor, and the burst of laughter that followed echoed over the isle. diluted claret was handed round to cool the ladies, while a beverage of more potent energies warmed their partners. after supper our captain returned to the "marion," and i, with my young men, slept in light swinging hammocks under the eaves of the piazza. it was the end of april, when the nights were short, and the days therefore long. anxious to turn every moment to account, we were on board mr. thruston's boat at three next morning. pursuing our way through the deep and tortuous channels that everywhere traverse the immense muddy soap-like flats that stretch from the outward keys to the main, we proceeded on our voyage of discovery. here and there we met with great beds of floating sea-weeds, which showed us that turtles were abundant there, these masses being the refuse of their feeding. on talking to mr. thruston of the nature of these muddy flats, he mentioned that he had once been lost amongst their narrow channels for several days and nights, when in pursuit of some smugglers' boat, the owners of which were better acquainted with the place than the men who were along with him. although in full sight of several of the keys, as well as of the main land, he was unable to reach either until a heavy gale raised the water, when he sailed directly over the flats, and returned home almost exhausted with fatigue and hunger. his present pilot often alluded to the circumstance afterwards, ending with a great laugh, and asserting that had he "been there, the rascals would not have escaped." coming under a key on which multitudes of frigate pelicans had begun to form their nests, we shot a good number of them, and observed their habits. the boastings of our pilot were here confirmed by the exploits which he performed with his long gun, and on several occasions he brought down a bird from a height of fully a hundred yards. the poor bird, unaware of the range of our artillery, sailed calmly along, so that it was not difficult for "long tom," or rather for his owner, to furnish us with as many as we required. the day was spent in this manner, and towards night we returned, laden with booty, to the hospitable home of the pilot. the next morning was delightful. the gentle sea-breeze glided over the flowery isle, the horizon was clear, and all was silent, save the long breakers that rushed over the distant reefs. as we were proceeding towards some keys seldom visited by men, the sun rose from the bosom of the waters with a burst of glory that flashed on my soul the idea of that power which called into existence so magnificent an object. the moon, thin and pale, as if ashamed to show her feeble light, concealed herself in the dim west. the surface of the waters shone in its tremulous smoothness, and the deep blue of the clear heavens was pure as the world that lies beyond them. the heron heavily flew towards the land, like a glutton retiring at daybreak, with well lined paunch, from the house of some wealthy patron of good cheer. the night heron and the owl, fearful of day, with hurried flight sought safety in the recesses of the deepest swamps; while the gulls and terns, ever cheerful, gambolled over the water, exulting in the prospect of abundance. i also exulted in hope, my whole frame seemed to expand; and our sturdy crew showed by their merry faces that nature had charms for them too. how much of beauty and joy is lost to them who never view the rising sun, and of whose waking existence, the best half is nocturnal. twenty miles our men had to row before we reached "sandy island," and as on its level shores we all leaped, we plainly saw the southernmost cape of the floridas. the flocks of birds that covered the shelly beaches, and those hovering overhead, so astonished us that we could for a while scarcely believe our eyes. the first volley procured a supply of food sufficient for two days' consumption. such tales, you have already been told, are well enough at a distance from the place to which they refer; but you will doubtless be still more surprised when i tell you that our first fire among a crowd of the great godwits laid prostrate sixty-five of these birds. rose-colored curlews stalked gracefully beneath the mangroves. purple herons rose at almost every step we took, and each cactus supported the nest of a white ibis. the air was darkened by whistling wings, while, on the waters, floated gallinules and other interesting birds. we formed a kind of shed with sticks and grass, the sailor cook commenced his labors, and ere long we supplied the deficiencies of our fatigued frames. the business of the day over, we secured ourselves from insects by means of mosquito-nets, and were lulled to rest by the cacklings of the beautiful purple gallinules! in the morning we rose from our sandy beds, and-- the florida keys ii i left you abruptly, perhaps uncivilly, reader, at the dawn of day, on sandy island, which lies just six miles from the extreme point of south florida. i did so because i was amazed at the appearance of things around me, which in fact looked so different then from what they seemed at night, that it took some minutes' reflection to account for the change. when we laid ourselves down in the sand to sleep, the waters almost bathed our feet; when we opened our eyes in the morning, they were at an immense distance. our boat lay on her side, looking not unlike a whale reposing on a mud bank. the birds in myriads were probing their exposed pasture-ground. there great flocks of ibises fed apart from equally large collections of godwits, and thousands of herons gracefully paced along, ever and anon thrusting their javelin bills into the body of some unfortunate fish confined in a small pool of water. of fish-crows, i could not estimate the number, but from the havoc they made among the crabs, i conjecture that these animals must have been scarce by the time of next ebb. frigate pelicans chased the jager, which himself had just robbed a poor gull of its prize, and all the gallinules, ran with spread wings from the mud-banks to the thickets of the island, so timorous had they become when they perceived us. surrounded as we were by so many objects that allured us, not one could we yet attain, so dangerous would it have been to venture on the mud; and our pilot, having assured us that nothing could be lost by waiting, spoke of our eating, and on this hint told us that he would take us to a part of the island where "our breakfast would be abundant although uncooked." off we went, some of the sailors carrying baskets, others large tin pans and wooden vessels, such as they use for eating their meals in. entering a thicket of about an acre in extent, we found on every bush several nests of the ibis, each containing three large and beautiful eggs, and all hands fell to gathering. the birds gave way to us, and ere long we had a heap of eggs that promised delicious food. nor did we stand long in expectation, for, kindling a fire, we soon prepared in one way or other enough to satisfy the cravings of our hungry maws. breakfast ended, the pilot, looking at the gorgeous sunrise, said: "gentlemen, prepare yourselves for fun; the tide is coming." over these enormous mud-flats, a foot or two of water is quite sufficient to drive all the birds ashore, even the tallest heron or flamingo, and the tide seems to flow at once over the whole expanse. each of us, provided with a gun, posted himself behind a bush, and no sooner had the water forced the winged creatures to approach the shore than the work of destruction commenced. when it at length ceased, the collected mass of birds of different kinds looked not unlike a small haycock. who could not with a little industry have helped himself to a few of their skins? why, reader, surely no one as fond of these things as i am. every one assisted in this, and even the sailors themselves tried their hand at the work. our pilot, good man, told us he was no hand at such occupations and would go after something else. so taking "long tom" and his fishing-tackle, he marched off quietly along the shores. about an hour afterwards we saw him returning, when he looked quite exhausted, and on our inquiring the cause said, "there is a dewfish yonder, and a few balacoudas, but i am not able to bring them, or even to haul them here; please send the sailors after them." the fishes were accordingly brought, and as i had never seen a dewfish, i examined it closely, and took an outline of its form, which some days hence you may perhaps see. it exceeded a hundred pounds in weight, and afforded excellent eating. the balacouda is also a good fish, but at times a dangerous one, for, according to the pilot, on more than one occasion "some of these gentry" had followed him when waist-deep in the water, in pursuit of a more valuable prize, until in self-defence, he had to spear them, fearing that "the gentlemen" might at one dart cut off his legs, or some other nice bit, with which he was unwilling to part. having filled our cask from a fine well, long since dug in the sand of cape sable, either by seminole indians or pirates, no matter which, we left sandy isle about full tide, and proceeded homeward, giving a call here and there at different keys, with the view of procuring rare birds, and also their nests and eggs. we had twenty miles to go, "as the birds fly," but the tortuosity of the channels rendered our course fully a third longer. the sun was descending fast, when a black cloud suddenly obscured the majestic orb. our sails swelled by a breeze that was scarcely felt by us; and the pilot, requesting us to sit on the weather gunwale, told us that we were "going to get it." one sail was hauled in and secured, and the other was reefed, although the wind had not increased. a low murmuring noise was heard, and across the cloud that now rolled along in tumultuous masses shot vivid flashes of lightning. our experienced guide steered directly across a flat towards the nearest land. the sailors passed their quids from one cheek to the other, and our pilot having covered himself with his oil jacket, we followed his example. "blow, sweet breeze," cried he at the tiller, and "we'll reach the land before the blast overtakes us, for, gentlemen, it is a furious cloud yon." a furious cloud indeed was the one which now, like an eagle on outstretched wings, approached so swiftly that one might have deemed it in haste to destroy us. we were not more than a cable's length from the shore, when, with an imperative voice, the pilot calmly said to us, "sit quite still, gentlemen, for i should not like to lose you overboard just now; the boat can't upset, my word for that, if you will but sit still--here we have it!" reader, persons who have never witnessed a hurricane, such as not unfrequently desolates the sultry climates of the south, can scarcely form an idea of their terrific grandeur. one would think that, not content with laying waste all on land, it must needs sweep the waters of the shallows quite dry, to quench its thirst. no respite for an instant does it afford to the objects within the reach of its furious current. like the scythe of the destroying angel, it cuts everything by the roots, as it were, with the careless ease of the experienced mower. each of its revolving sweeps collects a heap that might be likened to the full-sheaf which the husbandman flings by his side. on it goes with a wildness and fury that are indescribable, and when at last its frightful blasts have ceased, nature, weeping and disconsolate, is left bereaved of her beauteous offspring. in some instances, even a full century is required before, with all her powerful energies, she can repair her loss. the planter has not only lost his mansion, his crops, and his flocks, but he has to clear his lands anew, covered and entangled as they are with the trunks and branches of trees that are everywhere strewn. the bark, overtaken by the storm, is cast on the lee-shore, and if any are left to witness the fatal results, they are the "wreckers" alone, who, with inward delight, gaze upon the melancholy spectacle. our light bark shivered like a leaf the instant the blast reached her sides. we thought she had gone over; but the next instant she was on the shore. and now in contemplation of the sublime and awful storm, i gazed around me. the waters drifted like snow; the tough mangroves hid their tops amid their roots, and the loud roaring of the waves driven among them blended with the howl of the tempest. it was not rain that fell; the masses of water flew in a horizontal direction, and where a part of my body was exposed i felt as if a smart blow had been given me on it. but enough--in half an hour it was over. the pure blue sky once more embellished the heavens, and although it was now quite night, we considered our situation a good one. the crew and some of the party spent the night in the boat. the pilot, myself, and one of my assistants took to the heart of the mangroves, and having found high land, we made a fire as well as we could, spread a tarpauling, and fixing our insect bars over us, soon forgot in sleep the horrors that had surrounded us. next day the "marion" proceeded on her cruise, and in a few more days, having anchored in another safe harbor, we visited other keys, of which i will, with your leave, give you a short account. the deputy-collector of indian isle gave me the use of his pilot for a few weeks, and i was the more gratified by this, that besides knowing him to be a good man, and a perfect sailor, i was now convinced that he possessed a great knowledge of the habits of birds, and could without loss of time lead me to their haunts. we were a hundred miles or so farther to the south. gay may, like a playful babe, gambolled on the bosom of his mother nature, and everything was replete with life and joy. the pilot had spoken to me of some birds which i was very desirous of obtaining. one morning, therefore, we went in two boats to some distant isle, where they were said to breed. our difficulties in reaching that key might to some seem more imaginary than real, were i faithfully to describe them. suffice it for me to tell you that after hauling our boats and pushing them with our hands, for upwards of nine miles, over the flats, we at last reached the deep channel that usually surrounds each of the mangrove islands. we were much exhausted by the labor and excessive heat, but we were now floating on deep water, and by resting a short while under the shade of some mangroves, we were soon refreshed by the breeze that gently blew from the gulf. we further repaired our strength by taking some food; and i may as well tell you here that, during all the time i spent in that part of the floridas, my party restricted themselves to fish and soaked biscuit, while our only and constant beverage was molasses and water. i found that in these warm latitudes, exposed as we constantly were to alternate heat and moisture, ardent spirits and more substantial food would prove dangerous to us. the officers, and those persons who from time to time kindly accompanied us, adopted the same regimen, and not an individual of us had ever to complain of so much as a headache. but we were under the mangroves; at a great distance on one of the flats, the heron which i have named _ardea occidentalis_[ ] was seen moving majestically in great numbers. the tide rose and drove them away, and as they came towards us, to alight and rest for a time on the tallest trees, we shot as many as i wished. i also took under my charge several of their young alive. at another time we visited the "mule keys." there the prospect was in many respects dismal in the extreme. as i followed their shores, i saw bales of cotton floating in all the coves, while spars of every description lay on the beach, and far off on the reefs i could see the last remains of a lost ship, her dismantled hulk. several schooners were around her; they were wreckers. i turned me from the sight with a heavy heart. indeed, as i slowly proceeded, i dreaded to meet the floating or cast-ashore bodies of some of the unfortunate crew. our visit to the mule keys was in no way profitable, for besides meeting with but a few birds, in two or three instances i was, whilst swimming in the deep channel of a mangrove isle, much nearer a large shark than i wish ever to be again. "the service" requiring all the attention, prudence, and activity of captain day and his gallant officers, another cruise took place, of which you will find some account in the sequel; and while i rest a little on the deck of the "lady of the green mantle," let me offer my humble thanks to the being who has allowed me the pleasure of thus relating to you, kind reader, a small part of my adventures. the turtlers the tortugas are a group of islands lying about eighty miles from key west, and the last of those that seem to defend the peninsula of the floridas. they consist of five or six extremely low, uninhabitable banks, formed of shelly sand, and are resorted to principally by that class of men called wreckers and turtlers. between these islands are deep channels, which, although extremely intricate, are well known to those adventurers, as well as to the commanders of the revenue cutters, whose duties call them to that dangerous coast. the great coral reef, or wall, lies about eight miles from these inhospitable isles, in the direction of the gulf, and on it many an ignorant or careless navigator has suffered shipwreck. the whole ground around them is densely covered with corals, sea-fans, and other productions of the deep, amid which crawl innumerable testaceous animals, while shoals of curious and beautiful fishes fill the limpid waters above them. turtles of different species resort to these banks, to deposit their eggs in the burning sand, and clouds of sea-fowl arrive every spring for the same purpose. these are followed by persons called "eggers," who, when their cargoes are completed, sail to distant markets, to exchange their ill-gotten ware for a portion of that gold on the acquisition of which all men seem bent. the "marion" having occasion to visit the tortugas, i gladly embraced the opportunity of seeing those celebrated islets. a few hours before sunset the joyful cry of "land!" announced our approach to them; but as the breeze was fresh, and the pilot was well acquainted with all the windings of the channels, we held on, and dropped anchor before twilight. if you have never seen the sun setting in those latitudes, i would recommend to you to make a voyage for the purpose, for i much doubt if, in any other portion of the world, the departure of the orb of day is accompanied with such gorgeous appearances. look at the great red disk, increased to triple its ordinary dimensions! now it has partially sunk beneath the distant line of waters, and with its still remaining half irradiates the whole heavens with a flood of golden light, purpling the far-off clouds that hover over the western horizon. a blaze of refulgent glory streams through the portals of the west, and the masses of vapor assume the semblance of mountains of molten gold. but the sun has now disappeared, and from the east slowly advances the gray curtain which night draws over the world. the night-hawk is flapping its noiseless wings in the gentle sea-breeze; the terns, safely landed, have settled on their nests; the frigate pelicans are seen wending their way to distant mangroves; and the brown gannet, in search of a resting-place, has perched on the yard of the vessel. slowly advancing landward, their heads alone above the water, are observed the heavily laden turtles, anxious to deposit their eggs in the well-known sands. on the surface of the gently rippling stream, i dimly see their broad forms, as they toil along, while at intervals may be heard their hurried breathings, indicative of suspicion and fear. the moon with her silvery light now illumines the scene, and the turtle, having landed, slowly and laboriously drags her heavy body over the sand, her "flippers" being better adapted for motion in the water than on shore. up the slope, however, she works her way; and see how industriously she removes the sand beneath her, casting it out on either side. layer after layer she deposits her eggs, arranging them in the most careful manner, and with her hind paddles brings the sand over them. the business is accomplished, the spot is covered over, and with a joyful heart the turtle swiftly retires towards the shore, and launches into the deep. but the tortugas are not the only breeding places of the turtles; these animals, on the contrary, frequent many other keys, as well as various parts of the coast of the mainland. there are four different species, which are known by the names of the _green_ turtle, the _hawk-billed_ turtle, the _logger-head_ turtle, and the _trunk_ turtle. the first is considered the best as an article of food, in which capacity it is well known to most epicures. it approaches the shores, and enters the bays, inlets, and rivers, early in the month of april, after having spent the winter in the deep waters. it deposits its eggs in convenient places, at two different times in may, and once again in june. the first deposit is the largest, and the last the least, the total quantity being, at an average, about two hundred and forty. the hawk-billed turtle, whose shell is so valuable as an article of commerce, being used for various purposes in the arts, is the next with respect to the quality of its flesh. it resorts to the outer keys only, where it deposits its eggs in two sets, first in july, and again in august, although it "crawls" the beaches of these keys much earlier in the season, as if to look for a safe place. the average number of its eggs is about three hundred. the logger-head visits the tortugas in april, and lays from that period until late in june three sets of eggs, each set averaging one hundred and seventy. the trunk turtle, which is sometimes of an enormous size, and which has a pouch like a pelican, reaches the shores latest. the shell and flesh are so soft that one may push his finger into them, almost as into a lump of butter. this species is therefore considered as the least valuable, and, indeed, is seldom eaten, unless by the indians, who, ever alert when the turtle season commences, first carry off the eggs, and afterwards catch the turtles themselves. the average number of eggs which it lays in the season, in two sets, may be three hundred and fifty. the logger-head and the trunk turtles are the least cautious in choosing the places in which to deposit their eggs, whereas the two other species select the wildest and most secluded spots. the green turtle resorts either to the shores of the main, between cape sable and cape florida, or enters indian, halifax, and other large rivers or inlets, from which it makes its retreat as speedily as possible, and betakes itself to the open sea. great numbers, however, are killed by the turtlers and indians, as well as by various species of carnivorous animals, as cougars, lynxes, bears, and wolves. the hawk-bill, which is still more wary, and is always the most difficult to surprise, keeps to the sea-islands. all the species employ nearly the same method in depositing their eggs in the sand, and as i have several times observed them in the act, i am enabled to present you with a circumstantial account of it. on first nearing the shores, and mostly on fine, calm, moonlight nights, the turtle raises her head above the water, being still distant thirty or forty yards from the beach, looks around her, and attentively examines the objects on the shore. should she observe nothing likely to disturb her intended operations, she emits a loud hissing sound, by which such of her many enemies as are unaccustomed to it are startled, and so are apt to remove to another place, although unseen by her. should she hear any noise, or perceive indications of danger, she instantly sinks, and goes off to a considerable distance; but should everything be quiet, she advances slowly towards the beach, crawls over it, her head raised to the full stretch of her neck, and when she has reached a place fitted for her purpose, she gazes all round in silence. finding "all well" she proceeds to form a hole in the sand, which she effects by removing it from _under_ her body with her _hind_ flippers, scooping it out with so much dexterity that the sides seldom if ever fall in. the sand is raised alternately with each flipper, as with a large ladle, until it has accumulated behind her, when, supporting herself with her head and fore part on the ground fronting her body, she, with a spring from each flipper, sends the sand around her, scattering it to the distance of several feet. in this manner the hole is dug to the depth of eighteen inches, or sometimes more than two feet. this labor i have seen performed in the short period of nine minutes. the eggs are then dropped one by one, and disposed in regular layers, to the number of a hundred and fifty, or sometimes nearly two hundred. the whole time spent in this part of the operation may be about twenty minutes. she now scrapes the loose sand back over the eggs, and so levels and smooths the surface that few persons on seeing the spot could imagine anything had been done to it. this accomplished to her mind, she retreats to the water with all possible despatch, leaving the hatching of the eggs to the heat of the sand. when a turtle, a logger-head for example, is in the act of dropping her eggs, she will not move, although one should go up to her, or even seat himself on her back, for it seems that at this moment she finds it necessary to proceed at all events, and is unable to intermit her labor. the moment it is finished, however, off she starts; nor would it then be possible for one, unless he were as strong as a hercules, to turn her over and secure her. to upset a turtle on the shore, one is obliged to fall on his knees, and placing his shoulder behind her fore-arm, gradually raise her up by pushing with great force, and then with a jerk throw her over. sometimes it requires the united strength of several men to accomplish this; and, if the turtle should be of very great size, as often happens on that coast, even handspikes are employed. some turtlers are so daring as to swim up to them while lying asleep on the surface of the water, and turn them over in their own element, when, however, a boat must be at hand, to enable them to secure their prize. few turtles can bite beyond the reach of their fore-legs, and few, when once turned over, can, without assistance, regain their natural position; but, notwithstanding this, their flippers are generally secured by ropes so as to render their escape impossible. persons who search for turtles' eggs, are provided with a light stiff cane or a gun-rod, with which they go along the shores probing the sand near the tracks of the animals, which, however, cannot always be seen, on account of the winds and heavy rains that often obliterate them. the nests are discovered not only by men, but also by beasts of prey, and the eggs are collected, or destroyed on the spot, in great numbers, as on certain parts of the shores hundreds of turtles are known to deposit their eggs within the space of a mile. they form a new hole each time they lay, and the second is generally dug near the first, as if the animal were quite unconscious of what had befallen it. it will readily be understood that the numerous eggs seen in a turtle on cutting it up, could not be all laid the same season. the whole number deposited by an individual in one summer may amount to four hundred, whereas, if the animal is caught on or near her nest, as i have witnessed, the remaining eggs, all small, without shells, and as it were threaded like so many large beads, exceed three thousand. in an instance where i found that number, the turtle weighed nearly four hundred pounds. the young, soon after being hatched, and when yet scarcely larger than a dollar, scratch their way through their sandy covering, and immediately betake themselves to the water. the food of the green turtle consists chiefly of marine plants, more especially the grasswrack (_zostera marina_) which they cut near the roots to procure the most tender and succulent parts. their feeding-grounds, as i have elsewhere said, are easily discovered by floating masses of these plants on the flats, or along the shores to which they resort. the hawk-billed species feeds on sea-weeds, crabs, various kinds of shell-fish and fishes; the logger-head mostly on the fish of conch-shells of large size, which they are enabled, by means of their powerful beak, to crush to pieces with apparently as much ease as a man cracks a walnut. one which was brought on board the "marion," and placed near the fluke of one of her anchors, made a deep indentation in that hammered piece of iron, which quite surprised me. the trunk turtle feeds on mollusca, fish, crustacea, sea urchins, and various marine plants. all the species move through the water with surprising speed; but the green and hawk-billed, in particular, remind you, by their celerity and the ease of their motions, of the progress of a bird in the air. it is, therefore, no easy matter to strike one with a spear, and yet this is often done by an accomplished turtler. while at key west, and other islands on the coast, where i made the observations here presented to you, i chanced to have need to purchase some turtles, to feed my friends on board "the lady of the green mantle"--not my friends her gallant officers, or the brave tars who formed her crew, for all of them had already been satiated with turtle soup, but my friends the herons, of which i had a goodly number alive in coops, intending to carry them to john bachman of charleston, and other persons for whom i ever feel a sincere regard. so i went to a "crawl" accompanied by dr. benjamin strobel, to inquire about prices, when, to my surprise, i found that the smaller the turtles above ten-pounds weight, the dearer they were, and that i could have purchased one of the logger-head kind that weighed more than seven hundred pounds, for little more money than another of only thirty pounds. while i gazed on the large one, i thought of the soups the contents of its shell would have furnished for a "lord mayor's dinner," of the numerous eggs which its swollen body contained, and of the curious carriage which might be made of its shell--a car in which venus herself might sail over the caribbean sea, provided her tender doves lent their aid in drawing the divinity, and provided no shark or hurricane came to upset it. the turtler assured me that although the "great monster" was, in fact, better meat than any other of a less size, there was no disposing of it, unless, indeed, it had been in his power to have sent it to some very distant market. i would willingly have purchased it, but i knew that if killed, its flesh could not keep much longer than a day, and on that account i bought eight or ten small ones, which "my friends" really relished exceedingly, and which served to support them for a long time. turtles, such as i have spoken of, are caught in various ways on the coasts of the floridas, or in estuaries and rivers. some turtlers are in the habit of setting great nets across the entrance of streams, so as to answer the purpose either at the flow or at the ebb of the waters. these nets are formed of very large meshes, into which the turtles partially enter, when, the more they attempt to extricate themselves, the more they get entangled. others harpoon them in the usual manner; but in my estimation no method is equal to that employed by mr. egan, the pilot of indian isle. that extraordinary turtler had an iron instrument which he called a _peg_, and which at each end had a point not unlike what nail-makers call a brad, it being four-cornered but flattish, and of a shape somewhat resembling the beak of an ivory-billed woodpecker, together with a neck and shoulder. between the two shoulders of this instrument a fine tough-line, fifty or more fathoms in length, was fastened by one end being passed through a hole in the centre of the peg and the line itself was carefully coiled up, and placed in a convenient part of the canoe. one extremity of this peg enters a sheath of iron that loosely attaches it to a long wooden spear, until a turtle has been pierced through the shell by the other extremity. he of the canoe paddles away as silently as possible whenever he spies a turtle basking on the water, until he gets within a distance of ten or twelve yards, when he throws the spear so as to hit the animal about the place which an entomologist would choose, were it a large insect, for pinning it to a piece of cork. as soon as the turtle is struck, the wooden handle separates from the peg, in consequence of the looseness of its attachment. the smart of the wound urges on the animal as if distracted, and it appears that the longer the peg remains in its shell, the more firmly fastened it is, so great a pressure is exercised upon it by the shell of the turtle, which, being suffered to run like a whale, soon becomes fatigued, and is secured by hauling in the line with great care. in this manner, as the pilot informed me, eight hundred green turtles were caught by one man in twelve months. each turtler has his _crawl_, which is a square wooden building or pen formed of logs, which are so far separated as to allow the tide to pass freely through, and stand erect in the mud. the turtles are placed in this enclosure, fed and kept there until sold. if the animals thus confined have not laid their eggs previous to their seizure, they drop them in the water, so that they are lost. the price of green turtles, when i was at key west, was from four to six cents per pound. the loves of the turtles are conducted in the most extraordinary manner; but as the recital of them must prove out of place here, i shall pass them over. there is, however, a circumstance relating to their habits which i cannot omit, although i have it not from my own ocular evidence, but from report. when i was in the floridas several of the turtlers assured me that any turtle taken from the depositing ground, and carried on the deck of a vessel several hundred miles, would, if then let loose, certainly be met with at the same spot, either immediately after, or in the following breeding season. should this prove true, and it certainly may, how much will be enhanced the belief of the student in the uniformity and solidity of nature's arrangements, when he finds that the turtle, like a migratory bird, returns to the same locality, with perhaps a delight similar to that experienced by the traveller, who, after visiting distant countries, once more returns to the bosom of his cherished family. the force of the waters the men who are employed in cutting down the trees, and conveying the logs to the saw-mills or the places for shipping, are, in the state of maine, called "lumberers." their labors may be said to be continual. before winter has commenced, and while the ground is yet uncovered with a great depth of snow, they leave their homes to proceed to the interior of the pine forests, which in that part of the country are truly magnificent, and betake themselves to certain places already well known to them. their provisions, axes, saws, and other necessary articles, together with provender for their cattle, are conveyed by oxen in heavy sledges. almost at the commencement of their march, they are obliged to enter the woods, and they have frequently to cut a way for themselves for considerable spaces, as the ground is often covered with the decaying trunks of immense trees, which have fallen either from age, or in consequence of accidental burnings. these trunks, and the undergrowth which lies entangled in their tops render many places almost impassable even to men on foot. over miry ponds they are sometimes forced to form causeways, this being, under all circumstances, the easiest mode of reaching the opposite side. then, reader, is the time for witnessing the exertions of their fine large cattle. no rods do their drivers use to pain their flanks; no oaths or imprecations are ever heard to fall from the lips of these most industrious and temperate men, for in them, as in most of the inhabitants of our eastern states, education and habit have tempered the passions, and reduced the moral constitution to a state of harmony. nay, the sobriety that exists in many of the villages of maine, i acknowledge, i have often considered as carried to excess, for on asking for brandy, rum, or whiskey, not a drop could i obtain, and it is probable there was an equal lack of spirituous liquors of every other kind. now and then i saw some good old wines, but they were always drunk in careful moderation. but to return to the management of the oxen. why, reader, the lumbermen speak to them as if they were rational beings. few words seem to suffice, and their whole strength is applied to the labor, as if in gratitude to those who treat them with so much gentleness and humanity. while present on more than one occasion at what americans call "ploughing matches," which they have annually in many of the states, i have been highly gratified, and in particular at one, of which i have still a strong recollection, and which took place a few miles from the fair and hospitable city of boston. there i saw fifty or more ploughs drawn by as many pairs of oxen, which performed their work with so much accuracy and regularity--without the infliction of whip or rod, but merely guided by the verbal mandates of the ploughmen--that i was perfectly astonished. after surmounting all obstacles, the lumberers with their stock arrive at the spot which they have had in view, and immediately commence building a camp. the trees around soon fall under the blows of their axes, and before many days have elapsed a low habitation is reared and fitted within for the accommodation of their cattle, while their provender is secured on a kind of loft covered with broad shingles or boards. then their own cabin is put up; rough bedsteads, manufactured on the spot, are fixed in the corners; a chimney composed of a frame of sticks plastered with mud leads away the smoke; the skins of bears or deer, with some blankets, form their bedding, and around the walls are hung their changes of homespun clothing, guns, and various necessaries of life. many prefer spending the night on the sweet-scented hay and corn blades of their cattle, which are laid on the ground. all arranged within, the lumberers set their "dead falls," large "steel traps," and "spring guns," in suitable places round their camps, to procure some of the bears that ever prowl around such establishments. now the heavy clouds of november, driven by the northern blasts, pour down the snow in feathery flakes. the winter has fairly set in, and seldom do the sun's gladdening rays fall on the wood-cutter's hut. in warm flannels his body is enveloped, the skin of a raccoon covers his head and brows, his moose-skin leggings reach the girdle that secures them around his waist, while on broad moccasins, or snow-shoes, he stands from the earliest dawn until night, hacking away at majestic pines, that for a century past have embellished the forest. the fall of these valuable trees no longer resounds on the ground; and, as they tumble here and there nothing is heard but the rustling and cracking of their branches, their heavy trunks sinking into the deep snows. thousands of large pines thus cut down every winter afford room for younger trees, which spring up profusely to supply the wants of man. weeks and weeks have elapsed; the earth's pure white covering has become thickly and firmly crusted by the increasing intensity of the cold, the fallen trees have all been sawn into measured logs, and the long repose of the oxen has fitted them for hauling them to the nearest frozen streams. the ice gradually becomes covered with the accumulating mass of timber, and, their task completed, the lumberers wait impatiently for the breaking up of the winter. at this period they pass the time in hunting the moose, the deer, and the bear, for the benefit of their wives and children; and as these men are most excellent woodsmen great havoc is made among the game. many skins of sables, martens, and musk-rats they have procured during the intervals of their labor, or under night. the snows are now giving way, as the rains descend in torrents, and the lumberers collect their utensils, harness their cattle, and prepare for their return. this they accomplish in safety. from being lumberers they now become millers, and with pleasure each applies the grating file to his saws. many logs have already reached the dams on the swollen waters of the rushing streams, and the task commences, which is carried on through the summer, of cutting them up into boards. the great heats of the dog-days have parched the ground; every creek has become a shallow, except here and there where in a deep hole the salmon and the trout have found a retreat; the sharp, slimy angles of multitudes of rocks project, as if to afford resting-places to the wood-ducks and herons that breed on the borders of these streams. thousands of "saw-logs" remain in every pool, beneath and above each rapid or fall. the miller's dam has been emptied of its timber, and he must now resort to some expedient to procure a fresh supply. it was my good fortune to witness the method employed for the purpose of collecting the logs that had not reached their destination, and i had the more pleasure that it was seen in company with my little family. i wish, for your sake, reader, that i could describe in an adequate manner the scene which i viewed; but, although not so well qualified as i could wish, rely upon it that the desire which i feel to gratify you will induce me to use all my endeavors to give you an _idea_ of it. it was the month of september. at the upper extremity of dennysville, which is itself a pretty village, are the saw-mills and ponds of the hospitable judge lincoln and other persons. the creek that conveys the logs to these ponds, and which bears the name of the village, is interrupted in its course by many rapids and narrow embanked gorges. one of the latter is situated about half a mile above the mill-dams, and is so rocky and rugged in its bottom and sides as to preclude the possibility of the trees passing along it at low water, while, as i conceived, it would have given no slight labor to an army of woodsmen or millers to move the thousands of large logs that had accumulated in it. they lay piled in confused heaps to a great height along an extent of several hundred yards, and were in some places so close as to have formed a kind of dam. above the gorge there is a large natural reservoir, in which the head-waters of the creek settle, while only a small portion of them ripples through the gorge below, during the later weeks of summer and in early autumn, when the streams are at their lowest. at the _neck_ of this basin the lumberers raised a temporary barrier with the refuse of their sawn logs. the boards were planted nearly upright, and supported at their tops by a strong tree extending from side to side of the creek, which might there be about forty feet in breadth. it was prevented from giving way under pressure of the rising waters by having strong abutments of wood laid against its centre, while the ends of these abutments were secured by wedges, which could be knocked off when necessary. the temporary dam was now finished. little or no water escaped through the barrier, and that in the creek above it rose in the course of three weeks to its top, which was about ten feet high, forming a sheet that extended upwards fully a mile from the dam. my family was invited early one morning to go and witness the extraordinary effect which would be produced by the breaking down of the barrier, and we all accompanied the lumberers to the place. two of the men, on reaching it, threw off their jackets, tied handkerchiefs round their heads, and fastened to their bodies a long rope, the end of which was held by three or four others, who stood ready to drag their companions ashore, in case of danger or accident. the two operators, each bearing an axe, walked along the abutments, and at a given signal knocked out the wedges. a second blow from each sent off the abutments themselves, and the men, leaping with extreme dexterity from one cross log to another, sprung to the shore with almost the quickness of thought. scarcely had they effected their escape from the frightful peril which threatened them, when the mass of waters burst forth with a horrible uproar. all eyes were bent towards the huge heaps of logs in the gorge below. the tumultuous burst of the waters instantly swept away every object that opposed their progress, and rushed in foaming waves among the timbers that everywhere blocked up the passage. presently a slow, heavy motion was perceived in the mass of logs; one might have imagined that some mighty monster lay convulsively writhing beneath them, struggling with a fearful energy to extricate himself from the crushing weight. as the waters rose, this movement increased; the mass of timber extended in all directions, appearing to become more and more entangled each moment; the logs bounced against each other, thrusting aside, demersing, or raising into the air those with which they came in contact; it seemed as if they were waging a war of destruction, such as ancient authors describe the efforts of the titans, the foamings of whose wrath might to the eye of the painter have been represented by the angry curlings of the waters, while the tremulous and rapid motions of the logs, which at times reared themselves almost perpendicularly, might by the poet have been taken for the shakings of the confounded and discomfited giants. now the rushing element filled up the gorge to its brim. the logs, once under way, rolled, reared, tossed, and tumbled amid the foam, as they were carried along. many of the smaller trees broke across, from others great splinters were sent up, and all were in some degree seamed and scarred. then in tumultuous majesty swept along the mingled wreck, the current being now increased to such a pitch that the logs, as they were dashed against the rocky shores, resounded like the report of distant artillery, or the angry rumblings of the thunder. onward it rolls, the emblem of wreck and ruin, destruction and chaotic strife. it seemed to me as if i witnessed the rout of a vast army, surprised, overwhelmed, and overthrown. the roar of the cannon, the groans of the dying, and the shouts of the avengers were thundering through my brain, and amid the frightful confusion of the scene, there came over my spirit a melancholy feeling, which had not entirely vanished at the end of many days. in a few hours almost all the timber that had lain heaped in the rocky gorge, was floating in the great pond of the millers; and as we walked homeward we talked of the _force of the waters_. journey in new brunswick and maine the morning after that which we had spent with sir archibald campbell and his delightful family, saw us proceeding along the shores of the st. john river, in the british province of new brunswick. as we passed the government house, our hearts bade its generous inmates adieu; and as we left fredericton behind, the recollection of the many acts of kindness which we had received from its inhabitants came powerfully on our minds. slowly advancing over the surface of the translucent stream, we still fancied our ears saluted by the melodies of the unrivalled band of the d regiment. in short, with the remembrance of kindness experienced, the feeling of expectations gratified, the hope of adding to our knowledge, and the possession of health and vigor, we were luxuriating in happiness. the "favorite," the bark in which we were, contained not only my whole family, but nearly a score and a half of individuals of all descriptions, so that the crowded state of the cabin soon began to prove rather disagreeable. the boat itself was a mere scow, commanded by a person of rather uncouth aspect and rude manners. two sorry nags he had fastened to the end of a long tow-line, on the nearer of which rode a negro youth, less than half clad, with a long switch in one hand, and the joined bridles in the other, striving with all his might to urge them on at the rate of something more than two miles an hour. how fortunate it is for one to possess a little of the knowledge of a true traveller! following the advice of a good and somewhat aged one, we had provided ourselves with a large basket, which was not altogether empty when we reached the end of our aquatic excursion. here and there the shores of the river were delightful, the space between them and the undulating hills that bounded the prospect being highly cultivated, while now and then the abrupt and rocky banks assumed a most picturesque appearance. although it was late in september, the mowers were still engaged in cutting the grass, and the gardens of the farmers showed patches of green peas. the apples were still green, and the vegetation in general reminded us that we were in a northern latitude. gradually and slowly we proceeded, until in the afternoon we landed to exchange our jaded horses. we saw a house on an eminence, with groups of people assembled round it, but there no dinner could be obtained, because, as the landlord told us, an election was going on. so the basket was had recourse to, and on the greensward we refreshed ourselves with its contents. this done, we returned to the scow, and resumed our stations. as usual in such cases, in every part of the world that i have visited, our second set of horses was worse than the first. however, on we went; to tell you how often the tow-line gave way would not be more amusing to you than it was annoying to us. once our commander was in consequence plunged into the stream, but after some exertion he succeeded in regaining his gallant bark, when he consoled himself by giving utterance to a volley of blasphemies, which it would as ill become me to repeat, as it would be disagreeable to you to hear. we slept somewhere that night; it does not suit my views of travelling to tell you where. before day returned to smile on the "favorite" we proceeded. some rapids we came to, when every one, glad to assist her, leaped on shore, and tugged _à la cordelle_. some miles farther we passed a curious cataract, formed by the waters of the pokioke. there sambo led his steeds up the sides of a high bank, when, lo! the whole party came tumbling down, like so many hogsheads of tobacco rolled from a store-house to the banks of the ohio. he at the steering oar hoped "the black rascal" had broken his neck, and congratulated himself in the same breath for the safety of the horses, which presently got on their feet. sambo, however, alert as an indian chief, leaped on the naked back of one, and showing his teeth, laughed at his master's curses. shortly after this we found our boat very snugly secured on the top of a rock, midway in the stream, just opposite the mouth of eel river. next day at noon, none injured, but all chop-fallen, we were landed at woodstock village, yet in its infancy. after dining there we procured a cart, and an excellent driver, and proceeded along an execrable road to houlton in maine, glad enough, after all our mishaps, at finding ourselves in our own country. but before i bid farewell to the beautiful river of st. john, i must tell you that its navigation seldom exceeds eight months each year, the passage during the rest being performed on the ice, of which we were told that last season there was an unusual quantity, so much, indeed, as to accumulate, by being jammed at particular spots, to the height of nearly fifty feet above the ordinary level of the river, and that when it broke loose in spring, the crash was awful. all the low grounds along the river were suddenly flooded, and even the elevated plain on which fredericton stands was covered to the depth of four feet. fortunately, however, as on the greater streams of the western and southern districts, such an occurrence seldom takes place. major clarke, commander of the united states garrison, received us with remarkable kindness. the next day was spent in a long though fruitless ornithological excursion, for although we were accompanied by officers and men from the garrison, not a bird did any of our party procure that was of any use to us. we remained a few days, however, after which, hiring a cart, two horses, and a driver, we proceeded in the direction of bangor. houlton is a neat village, consisting of some fifty houses. the fort is well situated, and commands a fine view of mars' hill, which is about thirteen miles distant. a custom-house has been erected here, the place being on the boundary line of the united states and the british provinces. the road which was cut by the soldiers of this garrison, from bangor to houlton, through the forests, is at this moment a fine turnpike, of great breadth, almost straight in its whole length, and perhaps the best now in the union. it was incomplete, however, for some miles, so that our travelling over that portion was slow and disagreeable. the rain, which fell in torrents, reduced the newly raised earth to a complete bed of mud, and at one time our horses became so completely mired that, had we not been extricated by two oxen, we must have spent the night near the spot. jogging along at a very slow pace, we were overtaken by a gay wagoner, who had excellent horses, two of which a little "siller" induced him to join to ours, and we were taken to a tavern, at the "cross roads," where we spent the night in comfort. while supper was preparing, i made inquiries respecting birds, quadrupeds, and fishes, and was pleased to hear that many of these animals abounded in the neighborhood. deer, bears, trout, and grouse were quite plentiful, as was the great gray owl. when we resumed our journey next morning nature displayed all her loveliness, and autumn with her mellow tints, her glowing fruits, and her rich fields of corn, smiled in placid beauty. many of the fields had not yet been reaped, the fruits of the forests and orchards hung clustering around us, and as we came in view of the penobscot river, our hearts thrilled with joy. its broad transparent waters here spread out their unruffled surface, there danced along the rapids, while canoes filled with indians glided swiftly in every direction, raising before them the timorous waterfowl that had already flocked in from the north. mountains, which you well know are indispensable in a beautiful landscape, reared their majestic crests in the distance. the canada jay leaped gaily from branch to twig; the kingfisher, as if vexed at being suddenly surprised, rattled loudly as it swiftly flew off; and the fish hawk and eagle spread their broad wings over the waters. all around was beautiful, and we gazed on the scene with delight, as seated on a verdant bank, we refreshed our frames from our replenished stores. a few rare birds were procured here, and the rest of the road being level and firm, we trotted on at a good pace for several hours, the penobscot keeping company with us. now we came to a deep creek, of which the bridge was undergoing repairs, and the people saw our vehicle approach with much surprise. they, however, assisted us with pleasure, by placing a few logs across, along which our horses one after the other were carefully led, and the cart afterwards carried. these good fellows were so averse to our recompensing them for their labor that after some altercation we were obliged absolutely to force what we deemed a suitable reward upon them. next day we continued our journey along the penobscot, the country changing its aspect at every mile, and when we first descried old town, that village of saw-mills looked like an island covered with manufactories. the people here are noted for their industry and perseverance, and any one possessing a mill, and attending to his saws, and the floating of the timber into his dams, is sure to obtain a competency in a few years. speculations in land covered with pine, lying to the north of this place, are carried on to a great extent, and to discover a good tract of such ground many a miller of old town undertakes long journeys. reader, with your leave, i will here introduce one of them. good luck brought us into acquaintance with mr. gillies, whom we happened to meet in the course of our travels, as he was returning from an exploring tour. about the first of august he formed a party of sixteen persons, each carrying a knapsack and an axe. their provisions consisted of two hundred and fifty pounds of pilot bread, one hundred and fifty of salt pork, four of tea, two large loaves of sugar, and some salt. they embarked in light canoes twelve miles north of bangor, and followed the penobscot as far as wassataquoik river, a branch leading to the northwest, until they reached the seboois lakes, the principal of which lie in a line, with short portages between them. still proceeding northwest they navigated these lakes, and then turning west, carried their canoes to the great lake baamchenunsgamook; thence north to wallaghasquegantook lake, then along a small stream to the upper umsaskiss pond, when they reached the albagash river which leads into the st. john in about latitude °. many portions of that country had not been visited before even by the indians, who assured mr. gillies of this fact. they continued their travels down the st. john to the grand falls, where they met with a portage of half a mile, and having reached meduxmekeag creek, a little above woodstock, the party walked to houlton, having travelled twelve hundred miles, and described almost an oval over the country by the time they returned to old town, on the penobscot. while anxiously looking for "lumber-lands," they ascended the eminences around, then climbed the tallest trees, and by means of a good telescope, inspected the pine woods in the distance. and such excellent judges are these persons of the value of the timber which they thus observe, when it is situated at a convenient distance from water, that they never afterwards forget the different spots at all worthy of their attention. they had observed only a few birds and quadrupeds, the latter principally porcupines. the borders of the lakes and rivers afforded them fruits of various sorts, and abundance of cranberries, while the uplands yielded plenty of wild white onions, and a species of black plum. some of the party continued their journey in canoes down the st. john, ascended eel river, and the lake of the same name to matanemheag river, due southwest of the st. john, and after a few portages fell into the penobscot. i had made arrangements to accompany mr. gillies on a journey of this kind, when i judged it would be more interesting as well as useful to me to visit the distant country of labrador. the road which we followed from old town to bangor was literally covered with penobscot indians returning from market. on reaching the latter beautiful town, we found very comfortable lodging in an excellent hotel, and next day we proceeded by the mail to boston. a moose hunt in the spring of the moose were remarkably abundant in the neighborhood of the schoodiac lakes; and, as the snow was so deep in the woods as to render it almost impossible for them to escape, many of them were caught. about the st of march, , three of us set off on a hunt, provided with snow-shoes, guns, hatchets, and provisions for a fortnight. on the first day we went fifty miles, in a sledge drawn by one horse, to the nearest lake, where we stopped for the night, in the hut of an indian named lewis, of the passamaquoddy tribe, who had abandoned the wandering life of his race, and turned his attention to farming and lumbering. here we saw the operation of making snow-shoes, which requires more skill than one might imagine. the men generally make the bows to suit themselves, and the women weave in the threads, which are usually made of the skin of the caribou deer. the next day we went on foot sixty-two miles farther, when a heavy rain-storm coming on, we were detained a whole day. the next morning we put on snow-shoes, and proceeded about thirteen miles, to the head of the musquash lake, where we found a camp, which had been erected by some lumberers in the winter; and here we established our headquarters. in the afternoon an indian had driven a female moose-deer, and two young ones of the preceding year, within a quarter of a mile of our camp, when he was obliged to shoot the old one. we undertook to procure the young alive, and after much exertion succeeded in getting one of them, and shut it up in the shed made for the oxen; but as the night was falling, we were compelled to leave the other in the woods. the dogs having killed two fine deer that day, we feasted upon some of their flesh, and upon moose, which certainly seemed to us the most savory meat we had ever eaten, although a keen appetite is very apt to warp one's judgment in such a case. after supper we laid ourselves down before the huge fire we had built up, and were soon satisfied that we had at last discovered the most comfortable mode of sleeping. in the morning we started off on the track of a moose, which had been driven from its haunt, or yard, by the indians the day before; and although the snow was in general five feet deep, and in some places much deeper, we travelled three miles before we came to the spot where the moose had rested for the night. he had not left this place more than an hour, when we came to it. so we pushed on faster than before, trusting that ere long we should overtake him. we had proceeded about a mile and a half farther, when he took a sudden turn, which threw us off his track, and when we again found it, we saw that an indian had taken it up, and gone in pursuit of the harassed animal. in a short time we heard the report of a gun, and immediately running up, we saw the moose, standing in a thicket, wounded, when we brought him down. the animal finding himself too closely pursued, had turned upon the indian, who fired, and instantly ran into the bushes to conceal himself. it was three years old, and consequently not nearly grown, although already about six feet and a half in height. it is difficult to conceive how an animal could have gone at such a rate when the snow was so deep, with a thick crust at top. in one place, he had followed the course of a brook, over which the snow had sunk considerably on account of the higher temperature of the water, and we had an opportunity of seeing evidence of the great power which the species possess in leaping over objects that obstruct his way. there were places in which the snow had drifted to so great a height that you would have imagined it impossible for any animal to leap over it, and yet we found that he had done so at a single bound, without leaving the least trace. as i did not measure these snow-heaps, i cannot positively say how high they were, but i am well persuaded that some of them were ten feet. we proceeded to skin and dress the moose, and buried the flesh under the snow, where it will keep for weeks. on opening the animal we were surprised to see the great size of the heart and lungs, compared with the contents of the abdomen. the heart was certainly larger than that of any animal which i had seen. the head bears a great resemblance to that of a horse, but the "muffle" is more than twice as large, and when the animal is irritated or frightened, it projects that part much farther than usual. it is stated in some descriptions of the moose that he is short-winded and tender-footed, but he certainly is capable of long continued and very great exertion, and his feet, for anything that i have seen to the contrary, are as hard as those of any other quadruped. the young moose was so exhausted and fretted that it offered no opposition to us as we led it to the camp; but in the middle of the night we were awakened by a great noise in the hovel, and found that as it had in some measure recovered from its terror and state of exhaustion, it began to think of getting home, and was now much enraged at finding itself so securely imprisoned. we were unable to do anything with it, for if we merely approached our hands to the openings of the hut, it would spring at us with the greatest fury, roaring and erecting its mane, in a manner that convinced us of the futility of all attempts to save it alive. we threw to it the skin of a deer, which it tore to pieces in a moment. this individual was a yearling, and about six feet high. when we went to look for the other, which we had left in the woods, we found that he had "taken his back-track" or retraced his steps, and gone to the "beat," about a mile and a half distant, and which it may be interesting to describe. at the approach of winter, parties of moose-deer, from two to fifty in number, begin to lessen their range, and proceed slowly to the south side of some hill, where they feed within still narrower limits, as the snow begins to fall. when it accumulates on the ground, the snow, for a considerable space, is divided into well trodden, irregular paths, in which they keep, and browse upon the bushes at the sides, occasionally striking out a new path, so that, by the spring, many of those made at the beginning of winter are obliterated. a "yard" for half a dozen moose, would probably contain about twenty acres. a good hunter, although still a great way off, will not only perceive that there is a yard in the vicinity, but can tell the direction in which it lies, and even be pretty sure of the distance. it is by the marks on the trees that he discovers this circumstance; he finds the young maple, and especially the moose-wood and birch, with the bark gnawed off to the height of five or six feet on one side, and the twigs bitten, with the impression of the teeth left in such a manner, that the position of the animal when browsing on them, may be ascertained. following the course indicated by these marks, the hunter gradually finds them more distinct and frequent, until at length he arrives at the yard; but there he finds no moose, for long before he reaches the place, their extremely acute smell and hearing warn them of his approach, when they leave the yard, generally altogether, the strongest leading in one track, or in two or three parties. when pursued they usually separate, except the females, which keep with their young, and go before to break the track for them; nor will they leave them under any circumstances until brought down by their ruthless pursuers. the males, especially the old ones, being quite lean at this season, go off at great speed, and unless the snow is extremely deep, soon outstrip the hunters. they usually go in the direction of the wind, making many short turns to keep the scent, or to avoid some bad passage; and although they may sink to the bottom at every step, they cannot be overtaken in less than three or four days. the females, on the contrary, are remarkably fat, and it is not at all unfrequent to find in one of them a hundred pounds of raw tallow. but let us return to the young buck, which had regained the yard. we found him still more untractable than the female we had left in the hovel; he had trodden down the snow for a small space around him, which he refused to leave, and would spring with great fury at any one who approached the spot too near; and as turning on snow-shoes is not an easy operation, we were content to let him alone, and try to find one in a better situation for capture, knowing that if we did eventually secure him, he would probably, in the struggle injure himself too much to live. i have good reason to believe that the only practicable mode of taking them uninjured, except when they are very young, is, when they are exhausted and completely defenceless, to bind them securely, and keep them so till they have become pacified, and convinced of the uselessness of any attempt at resistance. if allowed to exert themselves as they please, they almost always kill themselves, as we found by experience. on the following day we again set out, and coming across the tracks of two young bucks, which had been started by the indians, we pursued them, and in two or three miles, overtook them. as it was desirable to obtain them as near the camp as possible, we attempted to steer them that way. for a while we succeeded very well in our scheme, but at last one of them, after making many ineffectual attempts to get another way, turned upon his pursuer, who, finding himself not very safe, felt obliged to shoot him. his companion, who was a little more tractable, we drove on a short way, but as he had contrived to take many turnings, he could approach us on his back-track too swiftly, so that we were compelled to shoot him also. we "dressed" them, taking with us the tongues and muffles, which are considered the most delicate parts. we had not walked more than a quarter of a mile, when we perceived some of the indications before mentioned, which we followed for half a mile, when we came across a yard, and going round it, we found where the moose had left it, though we afterwards learned that we had missed a fine buck, which the dogs, however, discovered later. we soon overtook a female with a young one, and were not long in sight of them when they stood at bay. it is really wonderful how soon they beat down a hard space in the snow to stand upon, when it is impossible for a dog to touch them, as they stamp so violently with their fore-feet that it is certain death to approach them. this moose had only one calf with her, though the usual number is two, almost invariably a male and a female. we shot them with a ball through the brain. the moose bears a considerable resemblance to the horse in his conformation, and in his disposition a still greater, having much of the sagacity as well as viciousness of that animal. we had an opportunity of observing the wonderful acuteness of its hearing and smelling. as we were standing by one, he suddenly erected his ears, and put himself on the alert, evidently aware of the approach of some person. about ten minutes after, one of our party came up, who must have been at the time at least half a mile off, and the wind was from the moose towards him. this species of deer feeds on the hemlock, cedar, fir, or pine, but will not touch the spruce. it also eats the twigs of the maple, birch, and soft shoots of other trees. in the autumn they may be enticed by imitating their peculiar cry, which is described as truly frightful. the hunter gets up into a tree, or conceals himself in some other secure place, and imitates this cry by means of a piece of birch-bark rolled up to give the proper tone. presently he hears the moose come dashing along, and when he gets near enough, takes a good aim, and soon despatches him. it is very unsafe to stand within reach of the animal, for he would certainly endeavor to demolish you. a full-grown male moose is said to measure nine feet in height, and with his immense branching antlers presents a truly formidable appearance. like the virginia deer, and the male caribou, they shed their horns every year about the beginning of december. the first year their horns are not dropped in spring. when irritated the moose makes a great grinding with his teeth, erects his mane, lays back his ears, and stamps with violence. when disturbed he makes a hideous whining noise, much in the manner of the camel. in that wild and secluded part of the country, seldom visited but by the indians, the common deer were without number, and it was with great difficulty that we kept the dogs with us, as they were continually meeting with "beats." in its habits that species greatly resembles the moose. the caribou has a very broad, flat foot, and can spread it on the snow to the fetlock, so as to be able to run on a crust scarcely hard enough to bear a dog. when the snow is soft, they keep in immense droves around the margins of the large lakes to which they betake themselves when pursued, the crust being much harder there than elsewhere. when it becomes more firm, they strike into the woods. as they possess such facility of running on snow, they do not require to make any yards, and consequently have no fixed place in the winter. the speed of this animal is not well known, but i am inclined to believe it much greater than that of the fleetest horse. in our camp we saw great numbers of crossbills, grosbeaks, and various other small birds. of the first of these were two species which were very tame, and alighted on our hut with the greatest familiarity. we caught five or six at once, under a snow-shoe. the pine-martin and wild cat were also very abundant.[ ] labrador when i look back upon the many pleasant hours that i spent with the young gentlemen who composed my party, during our excursions along the coast of sterile and stormy labrador, i think that a brief account of our employments may prove not altogether uninteresting to my readers. we had purchased our stores at boston, with the aid of my generous friend, dr. parkman of that city; but unfortunately many things necessary on an expedition like ours were omitted. at eastport in maine we therefore laid in these requisites. no traveller, let me say, ought to neglect anything that is calculated to insure the success of his undertaking, or to contribute to his personal comfort, when about to set out on a long and perhaps hazardous voyage. very few opportunities of replenishing stores of provisions, clothing, or ammunition, occur in such a country as labrador; and yet, we all placed too much confidence in the zeal and foresight of our purveyors at eastport. we had abundance of ammunition, excellent bread, meat, and potatoes; but the butter was quite rancid, the oil only fit to grease our guns, the vinegar too liberally diluted with cider, the mustard and pepper deficient in due pungency. all this, however, was not discovered until it was too late to be remedied. several of the young men were not clothed as hunters should be, and some of the guns were not so good as we could have wished. we were, however, fortunate with respect to our vessel, which was a notable sailer, did not leak, had a good crew, and was directed by a capital seaman. the hold of the schooner was floored, and an entrance made to it from the cabin, so that in it we had a very good parlor, dining-room, drawing-room, library, etc., all those apartments, however, being comprised in one. an extravagantly elongated deal table ranged along the centre; one of the party had slung his hammock at one end, and in its vicinity slept the cook and a lad who acted as armorer. the cabin was small; but being fitted in the usual manner with side berths, was used for a dormitory. it contained a small table and a stove, the latter of diminutive size, but smoky enough to discomfit a host. we had adopted in a great measure the clothing worn by the american fishermen on that coast, namely, thick blue cloth trousers, a comfortable waistcoat, and a pea-jacket of blanket. our boots were large, round-toed, strong, and well studded with large nails to prevent sliding on the rocks. worsted comforters, thick mittens, and round broad-brimmed hats, completed our dress, which was more picturesque than fashionable. as soon as we had an opportunity, the boots were exchanged for esquimaux mounted moccasins of seal-skin, impermeable to water, light, easy, and fastening at top about the middle of the thigh to straps, which when buckled over the hips secured them well. to complete our equipment, we had several good boats, one of which was extremely light and adapted for shallow water. no sooner had we reached the coast and got into harbor, than we agreed to follow certain regulations intended for the general benefit. every morning the cook was called before three o'clock. at half-past three, breakfast was on the table, and everybody equipped. the guns, ammunition, botanical boxes, and baskets for eggs or minerals were all in readiness. our breakfast consisted of coffee, bread, and various other materials. at four, all except the cook, and one seaman, went off in different directions, not forgetting to carry with them a store of cooked provisions. some betook themselves to the islands, others to the deep bays; the latter on landing wandered over the country till noon, when laying themselves down on the rich moss, or sitting on the granite rock, they would rest for an hour, eat their dinner, and talk of their successes or disappointments. i often regret that i did not take sketches of the curious groups formed by my young friends on such occasions, and when, after returning at night, all were engaged in measuring, weighing, comparing, and dissecting the birds we had procured; operations which were carried on with the aid of a number of candles thrust into the necks of bottles. here one examined the flowers and leaves of a plant, there another explored the recesses of a diver's gullet, while a third skinned a gull or a grouse. nor was one journal forgotten. arrangements were made for the morrow, and at twelve we left matters to the management of the cook, and retired to our roosts. if the wind blew hard, all went on shore, and, excepting on a few remarkably rainy days, we continued our pursuits, much in the same manner during our stay in the country. the physical powers of the young men were considered in making our arrangements. shattuck and ingalls went together; the captain and coolidge were fond of each other, the latter having also been an officer; lincoln and my son being the strongest and most determined hunters, generally marched by themselves; and i went with one or other of the parties, according to circumstances, although it was by no means my custom to do so regularly, as i had abundance of work on hand in the vessel. the return of my young companions and the sailors was always looked for with anxiety. on getting on board, they opened their budgets, and laid their contents on the deck, amid much merriment, those who had procured most specimens being laughed at by those who had obtained the rarest, and the former joking the latter in return. a substantial meal always awaited them, and fortunate we were in having a capital cook, although he was a little too fond of the bottle. our "fourth of july" was kept sacred, and every saturday night the toast of "wives and sweethearts" was the first given, "parents and friends" the last. never was there a more merry set. some with the violin and flute accompanied the voices of the rest, and few moments were spent in idleness. before a month had elapsed, the spoils of many a fine bird hung around the hold; shrubs and flowers were in the press, and i had several drawings finished, some of which you have seen, and of which i hope you will ere long see the remainder. large jars were filling apace with the bodies of rare birds, fishes, quadrupeds and reptiles, as well as molluscous animals. we had several pets too, gulls, cormorants, guillemots, puffins, hawks, and a raven. in some of the harbors, curious fishes were hooked in our sight, so clear was the water. we found that camping out at night was extremely uncomfortable, on account of the annoyance caused by flies and mosquitoes, which attacked the hunters in swarms at all times, but more especially when they lay down, unless they enveloped themselves in thick smoke, which is not much more pleasant. once when camping the weather became very bad, and the party was twenty miles distant from whapatigan as night threw her mantle over the earth. the rain fell in torrents, the northeast wind blew furiously, and the air was extremely cold. the oars of the boats were fixed so as to support some blankets, and a small fire was with difficulty kindled, on the embers of which a scanty meal was cooked. how different from a camp on the shores of the mississippi, where wood is abundant, and the air generally not lacking heat, where mosquitoes, although plentiful enough, are not accompanied by caribou flies, and where the barkings of a joyful squirrel, or the notes of the barred owl, that grave buffoon of our western woods, never fail to gladden the camper as he cuts to the right and left such branches and canes as most easily supply materials for forming a lodging for the night. on the coast of labrador there are no such things; granite and green moss are spread around, silence like that of the grave envelops all, and when night has closed the dreary scene from your sight, the wolves, attracted by the scent of the remains of your scanty repast, gather around you. cowards as they are they dare not venture on a charge; but their howlings effectually banish sleep. you must almost roast your feet to keep them warm, while your head and shoulders are chilled by the blast. when morning comes, she smiles not on you with rosy cheeks, but appears muffled in a gray mantle of cold mist, which shows you that there is no prospect of a fine day. the object of the expedition, which was to procure some owls that had been observed there by day, was entirely frustrated. at early dawn the party rose stiffened and dispirited, and glad were they to betake themselves to their boats, and return to their floating home. before we left labrador, several of my young friends began to feel the want of suitable clothing. the sailor's ever-tailoring system, was, believe me, fairly put to the test. patches of various colors ornamented knees and elbows; our boots were worn out; our greasy garments and battered hats were in harmony with our tanned and weather-beaten faces; and, had you met with us, you might have taken us for a squad of wretched vagrants; but we were joyous in the expectation of a speedy return, and exulted at the thoughts of our success. as the chill blast that precedes the winter's tempest thickened the fogs on the hills and ruffled the dark waters, each successive day saw us more anxious to leave the dreary wilderness of grim rocks and desolate moss-clad valleys. unfavorable winds prevented us for a while from spreading our white sails; but at last one fair morning smiled on the wintry world, the "ripley" was towed from the harbor, her tackle trimmed, and as we bounded over the billows, we turned our eyes towards the wilds of labrador, and heartily bade them farewell forever! the eggers of labrador the distinctive appellation of "eggers" is given to certain persons who follow, principally or exclusively, the avocation of procuring the eggs of wild birds, with the view of disposing of them at some distant port. their great object is to plunder every nest, wherever they can find it, no matter where, and at whatever risk. they are the pest of the feathered tribes, and their brutal propensity to destroy the poor creatures after they have robbed them, is abundantly gratified whenever an opportunity presents itself. much had been said to me respecting these destructive pirates before i visited the coast of labrador, but i could not entirely credit all their cruelties until i had actually witnessed their proceedings, which were such as to inspire no small degree of horror. but you shall judge for yourself. see yon shallop, shyly sailing along; she sneaks like a thief wishing, as it were, to shun the very light of heaven. under the lee of every rocky isle some one at the tiller steers her course. were his trade an honest one, he would not think of hiding his back behind the terrific rocks that seem to have been placed there as a resort to the myriads of birds that annually visit this desolate region of the earth, for the purpose of rearing their young at a distance from all disturbers of their peace. how unlike the open, the bold, the honest mariner, whose face needs no mask, who scorns to skulk under any circumstances. the vessel herself is a shabby thing; her sails are patched with stolen pieces of better canvas, the owners of which have probably been stranded on some inhospitable coast, and have been plundered, perhaps murdered, by the wretches before us. look at her again! her sides are neither painted, nor even pitched; no, they are daubed over, plastered and patched with strips of seal-skins laid along the seams. her deck has never been washed or sanded; her hold--for no cabin has she--though at present empty, sends forth an odor pestilential as that of a charnel house. the crew, eight in number, lie sleeping at the foot of their tottering mast, regardless of the repairs needed in every part of her rigging. but see! she scuds along, and as i suspect her crew to be bent on the commission of some evil deed, let us follow her to the first harbor. [illustration: audubon, . from a daguerreotype. owned by mrs. elizabeth berthoud grimshaw.] there rides the filthy thing! the afternoon is half over. her crew have thrown their boat overboard, they enter and seat themselves, each with a rusty gun. one of them sculls the skiff towards an island for a century past the breeding-place of myriads of guillemots, which are now to be laid under contribution. at the approach of the vile thieves, clouds of birds rise from the rock and fill the air around, wheeling and screaming over their enemies. yet thousands remain in an erect posture, each covering its single egg, the hope of both parents. the reports of several muskets loaded with heavy shot are now heard, while several dead and wounded birds fall heavily on the rock, or into the water. instantly all the sitting birds rise and fly off affrighted to their companions above, and hover in dismay over their assassins, who walk forward exultingly, and with their shouts mingling oaths and execrations. look at them! see how they crush the chick within its shell, how they trample on every egg in their way with their huge and clumsy boots. onward they go, and when they leave the isle, not an egg that they can find is left entire. the dead birds they collect and carry to their boat. now they have regained their filthy shallop; they strip the birds by a single jerk, of their feathery apparel while the flesh is yet warm, and throw them on some coals, where in a short time they are broiled. the rum is produced when the guillemots are fit for eating, and after stuffing themselves with this oily fare, and enjoying the pleasure of beastly intoxication, over they tumble on the deck of their crazed craft, where they pass the short hours of night in turbid slumber. the sun now rises above the snow-clad summit of the eastern mount. "sweet is the breath of morn," even in this desolate land. the gay bunting erects his white crest, and gives utterance to the joy he feels in the presence of his brooding mate. the willow grouse on the rock crows his challenge aloud. each floweret chilled by the night air expands its pure petals. the gentle breeze shakes from the blades of grass the heavy dew-drops. on the guillemot isle the birds have again settled, and now renew their loves. startled by the light of day, one of the eggers springs to his feet and rouses his companions, who stare around them for a while, endeavoring to collect their senses. mark them, as with clumsy fingers they clear their drowsy eyes! slowly they rise on their feet. see how the filthy lubbers stretch out their arms, and yawn; you shrink back, for verily "that throat might frighten a shark." but the master soon recollecting that so many eggs are worth a dollar or a crown, casts his eye towards the rock, marks the day in his memory and gives orders to depart. the light breeze enables them to reach another harbor a few miles distant, one which, like the last, lies concealed from the ocean by some other rocky isle. arrived there, they re-act the scene of yesterday, crushing every egg they can find. for a week each night is passed in drunkenness and brawls, until, having reached the last breeding-place on the coast, they return, touch at every isle in succession, shoot as many birds as they need, collect the fresh eggs, and lay in a cargo. at every step each ruffian picks up an egg so beautiful that any man with a feeling heart would pause to consider the motive which could induce him to carry it off. but nothing of this sort occurs to the egger, who gathers and gathers until he has swept the rock bare. the dollars alone chink in his sordid mind, and he assiduously plies the trade which no man would ply who had the talents and industry to procure subsistence by honorable means. with a bark nearly half filled with fresh eggs they proceed to the principal rock, that on which they first landed. but what is their surprise when they find others there helping themselves as industriously as they can! in boiling rage they charge their guns and ply their oars. landing on the rock they run up to the eggers, who, like themselves, are desperadoes. the first question is a discharge of musketry, the answer another. now, man to man, they fight like tigers. one is carried to his boat with a fractured skull, another limps with a shot in his leg, and a third feels how many of his teeth have been driven through the hole in his cheek. at last, however, the quarrel is settled; the booty is to be equally divided; and now see them all drinking together. oaths and curses and filthy jokes are all that you hear; but see, stuffed with food, and reeling with drink, down they drop one by one; groans and execrations from the wounded mingle with the snoring of the heavy sleepers. there let the brutes lie. again it is dawn, but no one stirs. the sun is high; one by one they open their heavy eyes, stretch their limbs, yawn, and raise themselves from the deck. but see, here comes a goodly company. a hundred honest fishermen, who for months past have fed on salt meat, have felt a desire to procure some eggs. gallantly their boats advance, impelled by the regular pull of their long oars. each buoyant bark displays the flag of its nation. no weapons do they bring, nor anything that can be used as such save their oars and their fists. cleanly clad in sunday attire, they arrive at the desired spot, and at once prepare to ascend the rock. the eggers, now numbering a dozen, all armed with guns and bludgeons, bid defiance to the fishermen. a few angry words pass between the parties. one of the eggers, still under the influence of drink, pulls his trigger, and an unfortunate sailor is seen to reel in agony. three loud cheers fill the air. all at once rush on the malefactors; a horrid fight ensues, the result of which is that every egger is left on the rock beaten and bruised. too frequently the fishermen man their boats, row to the shallops, and break every egg in the hold. the eggers of labrador not only rob the birds in this cruel manner, but also the fishermen, whenever they can find an opportunity; and the quarrels they excite are numberless. while we were on the coast, none of our party ever ventured on any of the islands which these wretches call their own, without being well provided with means of defence. on one occasion, when i was present, we found two eggers at their work of destruction. i spoke to them respecting my visit, and offered them premiums for rare birds and some of their eggs; but although they made fair promises, not one of the gang ever came near the "ripley." these people gather all the eider-down they can find; yet so inconsiderate are they, that they kill every bird which comes in their way. the eggs of gulls, guillemots, and ducks are searched for with care; and the puffins and some other birds they massacre in vast numbers for the sake of their feathers. so constant and persevering are their depredations that these species, which, according to the accounts of the few settlers i saw in the country, were exceedingly abundant twenty years ago, have abandoned their ancient breeding places, and removed much farther north in search of peaceful security. scarcely, in fact, could i procure a young guillemot before the eggers left the coast, nor was it until late in july that i succeeded, after the birds had laid three or four eggs each, instead of one, and when, nature having been exhausted, and the season nearly spent, thousands of these birds left the country without having accomplished the purpose for which they had visited it. this war of extermination cannot last many years more. the eggers themselves will be the first to repent the entire disappearance of the myriads of birds that made the coast of labrador their summer residence, and unless they follow the persecuted tribes to the northward, they must renounce their trade. the squatters of labrador go where you will, if a shilling can there be procured, you may expect to meet with individuals in search of it. in the course of last summer, i met with several persons, as well as families, whom i could not compare to anything else than what in america we understand by the appellation of "squatters." the methods they employed to accumulate property form the subject of the observations which i now lay before you. our schooner lay at anchor in a beautiful basin on the coast of labrador, surrounded by uncouth granitic rocks, partially covered with stunted vegetation. while searching for birds and other objects i chanced one morning to direct my eye towards the pinnacle of a small island, separated from the mainland by a very narrow channel, and presently commenced inspecting it with my telescope. there i saw a man on his knees with clasped hands, and face inclined heavenwards. before him was a small monument of unhewn stones, supporting a wooden cross. in a word, reader, the person whom i thus unexpectedly discovered was engaged in prayer. such an incident in that desolate land was affecting, for there one seldom finds traces of human beings; and the aid of the almighty, although necessary everywhere, seems there peculiarly required to enable them to procure the means of subsistence. my curiosity having been raised, i betook myself to my boat, landed on the rock, and scrambled to the place, where i found the man still on his knees. when his devotions were concluded, he bowed to me, and addressed me in very indifferent french. i asked him why he had chosen so dreary a spot for his prayers. "because," answered he, "the sea lies before me, and from it i receive my spring and summer sustenance. when winter approaches, i pray fronting the mountains on the main, as at that period the caribous come towards the shore, and i kill them, feed on their flesh, and form my bedding of their skins." i thought the answer reasonable, and as i longed to know more of him, followed him to his hut. it was low, and very small, formed of stones plastered with mud to a considerable thickness. the roof was composed of a sort of thatching made of weeds and moss. a large dutch stove filled nearly one half the place; a small port-hole then stuffed with old rags, served at times instead of a window; the bed was a pile of deerskins; a bowl, a jug, and an iron pot were placed on a rude shelf; three old and rusty muskets, their locks fastened by thongs, stood in a corner; and his buckshot, powder, and flints, were tied up in bags of skin. eight esquimaux dogs yelled and leaped about us. the strong smell that emanated from them, together with the smoke and filth of the apartment, rendered my stay in it extremely disagreeable. being a native of france, the good man showed much politeness, and invited me to take some refreshment, when, without waiting for my assent, he took up his bowl, and went off i knew not whither. no sooner had he and his strange dogs disappeared than i went out also, to breathe the pure air, and gaze on the wild and majestic scenery around. i was struck with the extraordinary luxuriance of the plants and grasses that had sprung up on the scanty soil in the little valley which the squatter had chosen for his home. their stalks and broad blades reached my waist. june had come, and the flies, mosquitoes, and other insects filled the air, and were as troublesome to me as if i had been in a florida swamp. the squatter returned, but he was chop-fallen; nay, i thought his visage had assumed a cadaverous hue. tears ran down his cheeks, and he told me that his barrel of _rum_ had been stolen by the "eggers" or some fishermen. he said that he had been in the habit of hiding it in the bushes, to prevent its being carried away by those merciless thieves, who must have watched him in some of his frequent walks to the spot. "now," said he, "i can expect none till next spring, and god knows what will become of me in the winter." pierre jean baptiste michaux had resided in that part of the world for upwards of ten years. he had run away from the fishing-smack that had brought him from his fair native land, and expected to become rich some day by the sale of the furs, seal-skins, eider-down, and other articles, which he collected yearly, and sold to the traders who regularly visited his dreary abode. he was of moderate stature, firmly framed, and as active as a wild cat. he told me that excepting the loss of his rum, he had never experienced any other cause of sorrow, and that he felt as "happy as a lord." before parting with this fortunate mortal, i inquired how his dogs managed to find sufficient food. "why, sir, during spring and summer they ramble along the shores, where they meet with abundance of dead fish, and in winter they eat the flesh of the seals which i kill late in autumn, when these animals return from the north. as to myself, everything eatable is good, and when hard pushed, i relish the fare of my dogs, i assure you, as much as they do themselves." proceeding along the rugged indentations of the bay with my companions, i reached the settlement of another person, who, like the first, had come to labrador with the view of making his fortune. we found him after many difficulties; but as our boats turned a long point jutting out into the bay, we were pleased to see several small schooners at anchor, and one lying near a sort of wharf. several neat-looking houses enlivened the view, and on landing, we were kindly greeted with a polite welcome from a man who proved to be the owner of the establishment. for the rude simplicity of him of the rum-cask, we found here the manners and dress of a man of the world. a handsome fur cap covered his dark brow, his clothes were similar to our own, and his demeanor was that of a gentleman. on my giving my name to him, he shook me heartily by the hand, and on introducing each of my companions to him, he extended the like courtesy to them also. then, to my astonishment, he addressed me as follows: "my dear sir, i have been expecting you these three weeks, having read _in the papers_ your intention to visit labrador; and some fishermen told me of your arrival at little natasquam. gentlemen, walk in." having followed him to his neat and comfortable mansion, he introduced us to his wife and children. of the latter there were six, all robust and rosy. the lady, although a native of the country, was of french extraction, handsome, and sufficiently accomplished to make an excellent companion to a gentleman. a smart girl brought us a luncheon, consisting of bread, cheese, and good port wine, to which, having rowed fourteen or fifteen miles that morning, we helped ourselves in a manner that seemed satisfactory to all parties. our host gave us newspapers from different parts of the world, and showed us his small, but choice collection of books. he inquired after the health of the amiable captain bayfield of the royal navy, and the officers under him, and hoped they would give him a call. having refreshed ourselves, we walked out with him, when he pointed to a very small garden, where a few vegetables sprouted out, anxious to see the sun. gazing on the desolate country around, i asked him how _he_ had thus secluded himself from the world. for it he had no relish, and although he had received a liberal education, and had mixed with society, he never intended to return to it. "the country around," said he, "is all my own, much farther than you can see. no fees, no lawyers, no taxes are _here_. i do pretty much as i choose. my means are ample through my own industry. these vessels come here for seal-skins, seal-oil, and salmon, and give me in return all the necessaries, and indeed comforts, of the life i love to follow; and what else could _the world_ afford me?" i spoke of the education of his children. "my wife and i teach them all that is _useful_ for them to know, and is not that enough? my girls will marry their countrymen, my sons the daughters of my neighbors, and i hope all of them will live and die in the country!" i said no more, but by way of compensation for the trouble i had given him, purchased from his eldest child a beautiful fox's skin. few birds, he said, came round him in summer, but in winter thousands of ptarmigans were killed, as well as great numbers of gulls. he had a great dislike to all fishermen and eggers, and i really believe was always glad to see the departure even of the hardy navigators who annually visited him for the sake of his salmon, seal-skins, and oil. he had more than forty esquimaux dogs; and as i was caressing one of them he said, "tell my brother-in-law at bras d'or, that we are all well here, and that, after visiting my wife's father, i will give him a call." now, reader, his wife's father resided at the distance of seventy miles down the coast, and, like himself, was a recluse. he of bras d'or, was at double that distance; but, when the snows of winter have thickly covered the country, the whole family, in sledges drawn by dogs, travel with ease, and pay their visits, or leave their cards. this good gentleman had already resided there more than twenty years. should he ever read this article, i desire him to believe that i shall always be grateful to him and his wife for their hospitable welcome. when our schooner, the "ripley," arrived at bras d'or, i paid a visit to mr. ----, the brother-in-law, who lived in a house imported from quebec, which fronted the strait of belle isle, and overlooked a small island, over which the eye reached the coast of newfoundland, whenever it was the wind's pleasure to drive away the fogs that usually lay over both coasts. the gentleman and his wife, we were told, were both out on a walk, but would return in a very short time, which they in fact did, when we followed them into the house, which was yet unfinished. the usual immense dutch stove formed a principal feature of the interior. the lady had once visited the metropolis of canada, and seemed desirous of acting the part of a blue-stocking. understanding that i knew something of the fine arts, she pointed to several of the vile prints hung on the bare walls, which she said were _elegant_ italian pictures, and continued her encomiums upon them, assuring me that she had purchased them from an italian, who had come there with a trunk full of them. she had paid a shilling sterling for each, frame included. i could give no answer to the good lady on this subject, but i felt glad to find that she possessed a feeling heart, for one of her children had caught a siskin, and was tormenting the poor bird, when she rose from her seat, took the little fluttering thing from the boy, kissed it, and gently launched it into the air. this made me quite forget the tattle about the fine arts. some excellent milk was poured out for us in clean glasses. it was a pleasing sight, for not a cow had we yet seen in the country. the lady turned the conversation on music, and asked me if i played on any instrument. i answered that i did, but very indifferently. her forte, she said, was music, of which she was indeed immoderately fond. her instrument had been sent to europe to be repaired, but would return that season, when the whole of her children would again perform many beautiful airs; for in fact anybody could use it with ease, as when she or the children felt fatigued, the servant played on it for them. rather surprised at the extraordinary powers of this family of musicians, i asked what sort of an instrument it was, when she described it as follows: "gentlemen, my instrument is large, longer than broad, and stands on four legs, like a table. at one end is a crooked handle, by turning which round, either fast or slow, i do assure you we make most excellent music." the lips of my young friends and companions instantly curled, but a glance from me as instantly recomposed their features. telling the fair one that it must be a hand-organ she used, she laughingly said, "ah, that is it; it is a hand-organ, but i had forgot the name, and for the life of me could not recollect it." the husband had gone out to work, and was in the harbor calking an old schooner. he dined with me on board the "ripley," and proved to be also an excellent fellow. like his brother-in-law, he had seen much of the world, having sailed nearly round it; and, although no scholar like him, too, he was disgusted with it. he held his land on the same footing as his neighbors, caught seals without number, lived comfortably and happily, visited his father-in-law and the scholar, by the aid of his dogs, of which he kept a great pack, bartered or sold his commodities, as his relations did, and cared about nothing else in the world. whenever the weather was fair, he walked with his dame over the moss-covered rocks of the neighborhood; and during winter killed ptarmigans and caribous, while his eldest son attended to the traps, and skinned the animals caught in them. he had the only horse that was to be found in that part of the country, as well as several cows; but, above all, he was kind to every one, and every one spoke well of him. the only disagreeable thing about his plantation or settlement, was a heap of fifteen hundred carcasses of skinned seals, which, at the time when we visited the place, in the month of august, notwithstanding the coolness of the atmosphere, sent forth a stench that, according to the ideas of some naturalists, might have sufficed to attract all the vultures in the united states. during our stay at bras d'or, the kind-hearted and good mrs. ---- daily sent us fresh milk and butter, for which we were denied the pleasure of making any return. cod fishing although i had seen, as i thought, abundance of fish along the coasts of the floridas, the numbers which i found in labrador quite astonished me. should your surprise while reading the following statements be as great as mine was while observing the facts related, you will conclude, as i have often done, that nature's means of providing small animals for the use of larger ones, and _vice versa_, are as ample as is the grandeur of that world which she has so curiously constructed. the coast of labrador is visited by european as well as american fishermen, all of whom are, i believe, entitled to claim portions of fishing-ground assigned to each nation by mutual understanding. for the present, however, i shall confine my observations to those of our own country, who, after all, are probably the most numerous. the citizens of boston, and many others of our eastern seaports, are those who chiefly engage in this department of our commerce. eastport in maine sends out every year a goodly fleet of schooners and "pickaxes" to labrador, to procure cod, mackerel, halibut, and sometimes herring, the latter being caught in the intermediate space. the vessels from that port, and others in maine and massachusetts, sail as soon as the warmth of spring has freed the gulf of ice, that is, from the beginning of may to that of june. a vessel of one hundred tons or so is provided with a crew of twelve men, who are equally expert as sailors and fishers, and for every couple of these hardy tars, a hampton boat is provided, which is lashed on the deck, or hung in stays. their provision is simple, but of good quality, and it is very seldom that any spirits are allowed, beef, pork and biscuit with water being all they take with them. the men are supplied with warm clothing, waterproof oiled jackets and trousers, large boots, broad-brimmed hats with a round crown, and stout mittens, with a few shirts. the owner or captain furnishes them with lines, hooks, and nets, and also provides the bait best adapted to insure success. the hold of the vessel is filled with casks, of various dimensions, some containing salt, and others for the oil that may be procured. the bait generally used at the beginning of the season consists of mussels salted for the purpose; but as soon as the capelings reach the coast they are substituted to save expense, and in many instances the flesh of gannets and other sea-fowl is employed. the wages of fishermen vary from sixteen to thirty dollars per month, according to the qualifications of the individual. the labor of these men is excessively hard, for, unless on sunday, their allowance of rest in the twenty-four hours seldom exceeds three. the cook is the only person who fares better in this respect, but he must also assist in curing the fish. he has breakfast, consisting of coffee, bread, and meat, ready for the captain and the whole crew, by three o'clock every morning, excepting sunday. each person carries with him his dinner ready cooked, which is commonly eaten on the fishing-grounds. thus, at three in the morning, the crew are prepared for their day's labor, and ready to betake themselves to their boats, each of which has two oars and lugsails. they all depart at once, and either by rowing or sailing, reach the banks to which the fishes are known to resort. the little squadron drop their anchors at short distances from each other, in a depth of from ten to twenty feet, and the business is immediately commenced. each man has two lines, and each stands in one end of the boat, the middle of which is boarded off, to hold the fish. the baited lines have been dropped into the water, one on each side of the boat; their leads have reached the bottom, a fish has taken the hook, and after giving the line a slight jerk, the fisherman hauls up his prize with a continued pull, throws the fish athwart a small round bar of iron placed near his back, which forces open the mouth, while the weight of the body, however small the fish may be, tears out the hook. the bait is still good, and over the side the line again goes, to catch another fish, while that on the left is now drawn up, and the same course pursued. in this manner, a fisher busily plying at each end, the operation is continued until the boat is so laden that her gunwale is brought within a few inches of the surface, when they return to the vessel in harbor, seldom distant more than eight miles from the banks. during the greater part of the day the fishermen have kept up a constant conversation, of which the topics are the pleasure of finding a good supply of cod, their domestic affairs, the political prospects of the nation, and other matters similarly connected. now the repartee of one elicits a laugh from the other; this passes from man to man, and the whole flotilla enjoy the joke. the men of one boat strive to outdo those of the others in hauling up the greatest quantity of fish in a given time, and this forms another source of merriment. the boats are generally filled about the same time, and all return together. arrived at the vessel, each man employs a pole armed with a bent iron, resembling the prong of a hay-fork, with which he pierces the fish, and throws it with a jerk on deck, counting the number thus discharged with a loud voice. each cargo is thus safely deposited, and the boats instantly return to the fishing-ground, when, after anchoring, the men eat their dinner, and begin anew. there, good reader, with your leave, i will let them pursue their avocations for a while, as i am anxious that you should witness what is doing on board the vessel. the captain, four men, and the cook have, in the course of the morning, erected long tables fore and aft the main hatchway; they have taken to the shore most of the salt barrels, and have placed in a row their large empty casks, to receive the livers. the hold of the vessel is quite clear, except a corner where is a large heap of salt. and now the men, having dined precisely at twelve, are ready with their large knives. one begins with breaking off the head of the fish, a slight pull of the hand and a gash with the knife, effecting this in a moment. he slits up its belly, with one hand pushes it aside to his neighbor, then throws overboard the head, and begins to doctor another. the next man tears out the entrails, separates the liver, which he throws into a cask, and casts the rest overboard. a third person dexterously passes his knife beneath the vertebræ of the fish, separates them from the flesh, heaves the latter through the hatchway, and the former into the water. now, if you will peep into the hold, you will see the last stage of the process, the salting and packing. six experienced men generally manage to head, clean, bone, salt, and pack all the fish caught in the morning by the return of the boats with fresh cargoes, when all hands set to work, and clear the deck of the fish. thus their labors continue till midnight, when they wash their faces and hands, put on clean clothes, hang their fishing apparel on the shrouds, and, betaking themselves to the forecastle, are soon in a sound sleep. at three the next morning, comes the captain from his berth, rubbing his eyes, and in a loud voice calling, "all hands, ho!" stiffened in limb, and but half awake, the crew quickly appear on the deck. their fingers and hands are so cramped and swollen by pulling the lines that it is difficult for them to straighten even a thumb; but this matters little at present, for the cook, who had a good nap yesterday, has risen an hour before them, and prepared their coffee and eatables. breakfast despatched, they exchange their clean clothes for the fishing apparel, and leap into their boats, which had been washed the previous night, and again the flotilla bounds to the fishing-grounds. as there may not be less than one hundred schooners or pickaxes in the harbor, three hundred boats resort to the banks each day, and, as each boat may procure two thousand cods per diem, when saturday night comes about six hundred thousand fishes have been brought to the harbor. this having caused some scarcity on the fishing-grounds, and sunday being somewhat of an idle day, the captain collects the salt ashore, and sets sail for some other convenient harbor, which he expects to reach long before sunset. if the weather be favorable, the men get a good deal of rest during the voyage, and on monday things go on as before. i must not omit to tell you, reader, that, while proceeding from one harbor to another, the vessel has passed near a rock which is the breeding-place of myriads of puffins. she has laid to for an hour or so, while part of the crew have landed, and collected a store of eggs, excellent as a substitute for cream, and not less so when hard boiled as food for the fishing-grounds. i may as well inform you also how these adventurous fellows distinguish the fresh eggs from the others. they fill up some large tubs with water, throw in a quantity of eggs, and allow them to remain a minute or so, when those which come to the surface are tossed overboard, and even those that manifest any upward tendency share the same treatment. all that remain at bottom, you may depend upon it, good reader, are perfectly sound, and not less palatable than any that you have ever eaten, or that your best guinea fowl has just dropped in your barn-yard. but let us return to the codfish. the fish already procured and salted is taken ashore at the new harbor by part of the crew, whom the captain has marked as the worst hands at fishing. there, on the bare rocks, or on elevated scaffolds of considerable extent, the salted cod are laid side by side to dry in the sun. they are turned several times a day, and in the intervals the men bear a hand on board at clearing and stowing away the daily produce of the fishing-banks. towards evening they return to the drying-grounds, and put up the fish in piles resembling so many hay-stacks, disposing those towards the top in such a manner that the rain cannot injure them, and placing a heavy stone on the summit to prevent their being thrown down should it blow hard during the night. you see, reader, that the life of a labrador fisherman is not one of idleness. the capelings have approached the shores, and in myriads enter every basin and stream, to deposit their spawn, for now july is arrived. the cods follow them as the bloodhound follows his prey, and their compact masses literally line the shores. the fishermen now adopt another method; they have brought with them long and deep seines, one end of which is by means of a line fastened to the shore, while the other is, in the usual manner, drawn out in a broad sweep, to inclose as great a space as possible, and hauled on shore by means of a capstan. some of the men, in boats, support the corked part of the net, and beat the water to frighten the fishes within towards the land, while others, armed with poles, enter the water, hook the fishes, and fling them on the beach, the net being gradually drawn closer as the number of fish diminishes. what do you think, reader, as to the number of cod secured in this manner in a single haul? thirty, or thirty thousand? you may form some notion of the matter when i tell you that the young gentlemen of my party, while going along the shores, caught codfish alive with their hands, and trout of many pounds' weight with a piece of twine and a mackerel-hook hung to their gun-rods; and that, if two of them walked knee-deep along the rocks, holding a handkerchief by the corners, they swept it full of capelings. should you not trust me in this, i refer you to the fishermen themselves, or recommend you to go to labrador, where you will give credit to the testimony of your eyes. the seining of the codfish, i believe, is not _quite_ lawful, for a great proportion of the codlings which are dragged ashore at last are so small as to be considered useless; and, instead of being returned to the water, as they ought to be, are left on the shore, where they are ultimately eaten by bears, wolves, and ravens. the fish taken along the coast, or on fishing stations only a few miles off, are of small dimensions; and i believe i am correct in saying that few of them weigh more than two pounds when perfectly cured, or exceed six when taken out of the water. the fish are liable to several diseases, and at times are annoyed by parasitic animals, which in a short time render them lean and unfit for use. some individuals, from laziness or other causes, fish with naked hooks, and thus frequently wound the cod, without securing them; in consequence of which the shoals are driven away, to the detriment of the other fishers. some carry their cargoes to other parts before drying them, while others dispose of them to agents from distant shores. some have only a pickaxe of fifty tons, while others are owners of seven or eight vessels of equal or larger burden; but whatever be their means, should the season prove favorable, they are generally well repaid for their labor. i have known instances of men who, on their first voyage, ranked as "boys," and in ten years after were in independent circumstances, although they still continue to resort to the fishing; for, said they to me, "how could we be content to spend our time in idleness at home?" i know a person of this class who has carried on the trade for many years, and who has quite a little fleet of schooners, one of which, the largest and most beautifully built, has a cabin as neat and comfortable as any that i have ever seen in a vessel of the same size. this vessel took fish on board only when perfectly cured, or acted as pilot to the rest, and now and then would return home with an ample supply of halibut, or a cargo of prime mackerel. on another occasion, i will offer some remarks on the improvements which i think might be made in the cod-fisheries of the coast of labrador. a ball in newfoundland on our return from the singularly wild and interesting country of labrador, the "ripley" sailed close along the northern coast of newfoundland. the weather was mild and clear, and, while my young companions amused themselves on the deck with the music of various instruments, i gazed on the romantic scenery spread along the bold and often magnificent shores. portions of the wilds appeared covered with a luxuriance of vegetable growth, far surpassing that of the regions which we had just left, and in some of the valleys i thought i saw trees of moderate size. the number of habitations increased apace, and many small vessels and boats danced on the waves of the coves which we passed. here a precipitous shore looked like the section of a great mountain, of which the lost half had sunk into the depths of the sea, and the dashing of the waters along its base was such as to alarm the most daring seaman. the huge masses of broken rock impressed my mind with awe and reverence, as i thought of the power that still gave support to the gigantic fragments which everywhere hung, as if by magic, over the sea, awaiting, as it were, the proper moment to fall upon and crush the impious crew of some piratical vessel. there, again, gently swelling hills reared their heads towards the sky, as if desirous of existing within the influence of its azure purity; and i thought the bleatings of reindeer came on my ear. dark clouds of curlews were seen winging their way towards the south, and thousands of larks and warblers were flitting through the air. the sight of these birds excited in me a wish that i also had wings to fly back to my country and friends. early one morning our vessel doubled the northern cape of the bay of st. george, and, as the wind was light, the sight of that magnificent expanse of water, which extends inward to the length of eighteen leagues, with a breadth of thirteen, gladdened the hearts of all on board. a long range of bold shores bordered it on one side, throwing a deep shadow over the water, which added greatly to the beauty of the scene. on the other side, the mild beams of the autumnal sun glittered on the water, and whitened the sails of the little barks that were sailing to and fro, like so many silvery gulls. the welcome sight of cattle feeding in cultivated meadows, and of people at their avocations, consoled us for the labors which we had undergone, and the privations which we had suffered; and, as the "ripley" steered her course into a snug harbor that suddenly opened to our view, the number of vessels that were anchored there, and a pretty village that presented itself increased our delight. although the sun was fast approaching the western horizon when our anchor was dropped, no sooner were the sails furled than we all went ashore. there appeared a kind of curious bustle among the people, as if they were anxious to know who we were; for our appearance, and that of our warlike looking schooner showed that we were not fishermen. as we bore our usual arms and hunting accoutrements, which were half indian and half civilized, the individuals we met on shore manifested considerable suspicion, which our captain observing, he instantly made a signal, when the star-spangled banner glided to the mast-head, and saluted the flags of france and britain in kindly greeting. we were welcomed and supplied with abundance of fresh provisions. glad at once more standing on something like soil, we passed through the village, and walked round it, but as night was falling were quickly obliged to return to our floating home, where, after a hearty supper, we serenaded with repeated glees the peaceful inhabitants of the village. at early dawn i was on deck admiring the scene of industry that presented itself. the harbor was already covered with fishing-boats employed in procuring mackerel, some of which we appropriated to ourselves. signs of cultivation were observed on the slopes of the hills, the trees seemed of goodly size, a river made its way between two ranges of steep rocks, and here and there a group of micmac indians were searching along the shores for lobsters, crabs, and eels, all of which we found abundant and delicious. a canoe laden with reindeer meat came alongside, paddled by a pair of athletic indians, who exchanged their cargo for some of our stores. you would have been amused to see the manner in which these men, and their families on shore cooked the lobsters; they threw them alive into a great wood fire, and as soon as they were broiled devoured them, while yet so hot that none of us could have touched them. when properly cooled, i tasted these roasted lobsters, and found them infinitely better flavored than boiled ones. the country was represented as abounding in game. the temperature was higher by twenty degrees than that of labrador, and yet i was told that the ice in the bay seldom broke up before the middle of may, and that few vessels attempted to go to labrador before the th of june, when the cod-fishery at once commences. one afternoon we were visited by a deputation from the inhabitants of the village, inviting our whole party to a ball which was to take place that night, and requesting us to take with us our musical instruments. we unanimously accepted the invitation, which had been made from friendly feelings; and finding that the deputies had a relish for "old jamaica" we helped them pretty freely to some, which soon showed that it had lost nothing of its energies by having visited labrador. at ten o'clock, the appointed hour, we landed, and were lighted to the dancing-hall by paper lanterns, one of us carrying a flute, another a violin, and i with a flageolet stuck into my waistcoat pocket. the hall proved nothing else than the ground-floor of a fisherman's house. we were presented to his wife, who, like her neighbors, was an adept in the piscatory art. she courtesied, not _à la_ taglioni, it is true, but with a modest assurance, which to me was quite as pleasing as the airiness with which the admired performer just mentioned might have paid her respects. the good woman was rather unprepared, and quite _en negligée_, as was the apartment, but full of activity, and anxious to arrange things in becoming style. in one hand she held a bunch of candles, in the other a lighted torch, and distributing the former at proper intervals along the walls, she applied the latter to them in succession. this done, she emptied the contents of a large tin vessel into a number of glasses, which were placed on a tea-tray on the only table in the room. the chimney, black and capacious, was embellished with coffee-pots, milk-jugs, cups and saucers, knives and forks, and all the paraphernalia necessary on so important an occasion. a set of primitive wooden stools and benches was placed around, for the reception of the belles of the village, some of whom now dropped in, flourishing in all the rosy fatness produced by an invigorating northern climate, and in decoration vying with the noblest indian queen of the west. their stays seemed ready to burst open, and their shoes were equally pressed. around their necks, brilliant beads mingled with ebony tresses, and their naked arms might have inspired apprehension had they not been constantly employed in arranging flowing ribbons, gaudy flowers, and muslin flounces. now arrived one of the beaux, just returned from the fishing, who, knowing all, and being equally known, leaped without ceremony on the loose boards that formed a kind of loft overhead, where he soon exchanged his dripping apparel for a dress suited to the occasion, when he dropped upon the floor, and strutting up and down, bowed and scraped to the ladies, with as much ease, if not elegance, as a bond street highly scented exquisite. others came in by degrees, ready dressed, and music was called for. my son, by way of overture, played "hail columbia, happy land," then went on with "la marseillaise," and ended with "god save the king." being merely a spectator, i ensconced myself in a corner, by the side of an old european gentleman, whom i found an agreeable and well informed companion, to admire the decorum of the motley assemblage. the dancers stood in array, little time having been spent in choosing partners, and a canadian accompanying my son on his cremona, mirth and joy soon abounded. dancing is certainly one of the most healthful and innocent amusements; i have loved it a vast deal more than watching for the nibble of a trout, and i have sometimes thought the enjoyment of it softened my nature as much as the pale, pure light of the moon softens and beautifies a winter night. a maiden lady who sat at my side, and who was the only daughter of my talkative companion, relished my remarks on the subject so much that the next set saw her gracing the floor with her tutored feet. at each pause of the musicians refreshments were handed round by the hostess and her son, and i was not a little surprised to see all the ladies, maids and matrons, swallow, like their sweethearts and husbands, a full glass of pure rum, with evident pleasure. i should perhaps have recollected that, in cold climates, a glass of ardent spirits is not productive of the same effects as in burning latitudes, and that refinement had not yet induced these healthy and robust dames to affect a delicacy foreign to their nature. it was now late, and knowing how much i had to accomplish next day, i left the party and proceeded to the shore. my men were sound asleep in the boat, but in a few moments i was on board the "ripley." my young friends arrived towards daylight, but many of the fishermen's sons and daughters kept up the dance, to the music of the canadian, until after our breakfast was over. the bay of fundy it was in the month of may that i sailed in the united states revenue cutter, the "swiftsure," engaged in a cruise in the bay of fundy. our sails were quickly unfurled and spread out to the breeze. the vessel seemed to fly over the surface of the liquid element, as the sun rose in full splendor, while the clouds that floated here and there formed, with their glowing hues, a rich contrast with the pure azure of the heavens above us. we approached apace the island of grand menan, of which the stupendous cliffs gradually emerged from the deep with the majestic boldness of her noblest native chief. soon our bark passed beneath its craggy head, covered with trees, which, on account of the height, seemed scarcely larger than shrubs. the prudent raven spread her pinions, launched from the cliff, and flew away before us; the golden eagle, soaring aloft, moved majestically along in wide circles; the guillemots sat on their eggs upon the shelving precipices, or plunging into the water, dived, and rose again at a great distance; the broad-breasted eider duck covered her eggs among the grassy tufts; on a naked rock the seal lazily basked, its sleek sides glistening in the sunshine; while shoals of porpoises were swiftly gliding through the waters around us, showing by their gambols that, although doomed to the deep, their life was not devoid of pleasure. far away stood the bold shores of nova scotia, gradually fading in the distance, of which the gray tints beautifully relieved the wing-like sails of many a fishing bark. cape after cape, forming eddies and counter currents far too terrific to be described by a landsman, we passed in succession, until we reached a deep cove, near the shores of white head island, which is divided from grand menan by a narrow strait, where we anchored secure from every blast that could blow. in a short time we found ourselves under the roof of captain frankland, the sole owner of the isle, of which the surface contains about fifteen hundred acres. he received us all with politeness and gave us permission to seek out its treasures, which we immediately set about doing, for i was anxious to study the habits of certain gulls that breed there in great numbers. as captain coolidge, our worthy commander, had assured me, we found them on their nests on almost every _tree_ of a wood that covered several acres. what a treat, reader, was it to find birds of this kind lodged on fir-trees, and sitting comfortably on their eggs! their loud cackling notes led us to their place of resort, and ere long we had satisfactorily observed their habits, and collected as many of themselves and their eggs as we considered sufficient. in our walks we noticed a rat, the only quadruped found on the island, and observed abundance of gooseberries, currants, raspberries, strawberries, and huckleberries. seating ourselves on the summit of the rocks, in view of the vast atlantic, we spread out our stores, and refreshed ourselves with our simple fare. now we followed the objects of our pursuit through the tangled woods, now carefully picked our steps over the spongy grounds. the air was filled with the melodious concerts of birds, and all nature seemed to smile in quiet enjoyment. we wandered about until the setting sun warned us to depart, when, returning to the house of the proprietor, we sat down to an excellent repast, and amused ourselves with relating anecdotes and forming arrangements for the morrow. our captain complimented us on our success, when we reached the "swiftsure," and in due time we betook ourselves to our hammocks. the next morning, a strange sail appearing in the distance, preparations were instantly made to pay her commander a visit. the signal staff of white head island displayed the british flag, while captain frankland and his men stood on the shore, and as we gave our sails to the wind, three hearty cheers filled the air, and were instantly responded to by us. the vessel was soon approached, but all was found right with her, and squaring our yards, onward we sped, cheerily bounding over the gay billows, until our captain sent us ashore at eastport. at another time my party was received on board the revenue cutter's tender, the "fancy,"--a charming name for so beautiful a craft. we set sail towards evening. the cackling of the "old wives" that covered the bay filled me with delight, and thousands of gulls and cormorants seemed as if anxious to pilot us into head harbor bay, where we anchored for the night. leaping on the rugged shore, we made our way to the lighthouse, where we found mr. snelling, a good and honest englishman from devonshire. his family consisted of three wild-looking lasses, beautiful, like the most finished productions of nature. in his lighthouse snugly ensconced, he spent his days in peaceful forgetfulness of the world, subsisting principally on the fish of the bay. when day broke, how delightful it was to see fair nature open her graceful eyelids, and present herself arrayed in all that was richest and purest before her creator. ah, reader, how indelibly are such moments engraved on my soul! with what ardor have i at such times gazed around me, full of the desire of being enabled to comprehend all that i saw! how often have i longed to converse with the feathered inhabitants of the forest, all of which seemed then intent on offering up their thanks to the object of my own adoration! but the wish could not be gratified, although i now feel satisfied that i have enjoyed as much of the wonders and beauties of nature as it was proper for me to enjoy. the delightful trills of the winter wren rolled through the underwood, the red squirrel smacked time with his chops, the loud notes of the robin sounded clearly from the tops of the trees, the rosy grosbeak nipped the tender blossoms of the maples, and high overhead the loons passed in pairs, rapidly wending their way towards far distant shores. would that i could have followed in their wake! the hour of our departure had come; and, as we sailed up the bay, our pilot, who had been fishing for cod, was taken on board. a few of his fish were roasted on a plank before the embers, and formed the principal part of our breakfast. the breeze was light, and it was not until afternoon that we arrived at point lepreaux harbor, where every one, making choice of his course, went in search of curiosities and provender. now, reader, the little harbor in which, if you wish it, we shall suppose we still are, is renowned for a circumstance which i feel much inclined to endeavor to explain to you. several species of ducks, that in myriads cover the waters of the bay of fundy, are at times destroyed in this particular spot in a very singular manner. when july has come, all the water birds that are no longer capable of reproducing, remain like so many forlorn bachelors and old maids, to renew their plumage along the shores. at the period when these poor birds are unfit for flight, troops of indians make their appearance in light bark canoes, paddled by their squaws and papooses. they form their flotilla into an extended curve, and drive before them the birds, not in silence, but with simultaneous horrific yells, at the same time beating the surface of the water with long poles and paddles. terrified by the noise, the birds swim a long way before them, endeavoring to escape with all their might. the tide is high, every cove is filled, and into the one where we now are, thousands of ducks are seen entering. the indians have ceased to shout, and the canoes advance side by side. time passes on, the tide swiftly recedes as it rose, and there are the birds left on the beach. see with what pleasure each wild inhabitant of the forest seizes his stick, the squaws and younglings following with similar weapons! look at them rushing on their prey, falling on the disabled birds, and smashing them with their cudgels, until all are destroyed! in this manner upwards of five hundred wild fowls have often been procured in a few hours. three pleasant days were spent at point lepreaux, when the "fancy" spread her wings to the breeze. in one harbor we fished for shells with a capital dredge, and in another searched along the shore for eggs. the passamaquoddy chief is seen gliding swiftly over the deep in his fragile bark. he has observed a porpoise breathing. watch him, for now he is close upon the unsuspecting dolphin. he rises erect, aims his musket; smoke rises curling from the pan, and rushes from the iron tube, when soon after the report comes on the ear. meantime the porpoise has suddenly turned back downwards,--it is dead. the body weighs a hundred pounds or more, but this to the tough-fibred son of the woods is nothing; he reaches it with his muscular arms, and at a single jerk, while with his legs he dexterously steadies the canoe, he throws it lengthwise at his feet. amidst the highest waves of the bay of fundy, these feats are performed by the indians during the whole of the season when the porpoises resort thither. you have often, no doubt, heard of the extraordinary tides of this bay; so had i, but, like others, i was loath to believe the reports were strictly true. so i went to the pretty town of windsor in nova scotia, to judge for myself. but let us leave the "fancy" for a while, and imagine ourselves at windsor. late one day in august my companions and i were seated on the grassy and elevated bank of the river, about eighty feet or so above its bed, which was almost dry, and extended for nine miles below like a sandy wilderness. many vessels lay on the high banks taking in their lading of gypsum. we thought the appearance very singular, but we were too late to watch the tide that evening. next morning we resumed our station, and soon perceived the water flowing towards us, and rising with a rapidity of which we had previously seen no example. we planted along the steep declivity of the bank a number of sticks, each three feet long, the base of one being placed on a level with the top of that below it, and when about half flow the tide reached their tops, one after another, rising three feet in ten minutes, or eighteen in the hour; and, at high water the surface was sixty-five feet above the bed of the river! on looking for the vessels which we had seen the preceding evening, we were told most of them were gone with the night tide. but now we are again on board the "fancy;" mr. claredge stands near the pilot, who sits next to the man at the helm. on we move swiftly for the breeze has freshened; many islands we pass in succession; the wind increases to a gale; with reefed sails we dash along, and now rapidly pass a heavily laden sloop gallantly running across our course with undiminished sail; when suddenly we see her upset. staves and spars are floating around, and presently we observe three men scrambling up her sides, and seating themselves on the keel, where they make signals of distress to us. by this time we have run to a great distance; but claredge, cool and prudent, as every seaman ought to be, has already issued his orders to the helmsman and crew, and now near the wind we gradually approach the sufferers. a line is thrown to them, and the next moment we are alongside the vessel. a fisher's boat, too, has noticed the disaster; and, with long strokes of her oars, advances, now rising on the curling wave, and now sinking out of sight. by our mutual efforts the men are brought on board, and the sloop is slowly towed into a safe harbor. an hour later my party was safely landed at eastport, where, on looking over the waters, and observing the dense masses of vapor that veiled the shores, we congratulated ourselves at having escaped from the bay of fundy. a flood many of our larger streams, such as the mississippi, the ohio, the illinois, the arkansas, and the red river, exhibit at certain seasons the most extensive overflowings of their waters, to which the name of _floods_ is more appropriate than the term _freshets_, usually applied to the sudden risings of smaller streams. if we consider the vast extent of country through which an inland navigation is afforded by the never-failing supply of water furnished by these wonderful rivers, we cannot suppose them exceeded in magnitude by any other in the known world. it will easily be imagined what a wonderful spectacle must present itself to the eye of the traveller who for the first time views the enormous mass of waters, collected from the vast central regions of our continent, booming along, turbid and swollen to overflowing, in the broad channels of the mississippi and ohio, the latter of which has a course of more than a thousand miles, and the former of several thousands. to give you some idea of a _booming flood_ of these gigantic streams, it is necessary to state the causes which give rise to it. these are, the sudden melting of the snows on the mountains, and heavy rains continued for several weeks. when it happens that, during a severe winter, the alleghany mountains have been covered with snow to the depth of several feet, and the accumulated mass has remained unmelted for a length of time, the materials of a flood are thus prepared. it now and then happens that the winter is hurried off by a sudden increase of temperature, when the accumulated snows melt away simultaneously over the whole country, and the southeasterly wind, which then usually blows, brings along with it a continued fall of heavy rain, which, mingling with the dissolving snow, deluges the alluvial portions of the western country, filling up the rivulets, ravines, creeks, and small rivers. these delivering their waters to the great streams, cause the latter not merely to rise to a surprising height, but to overflow their banks, wherever the land is low. on such occasions the ohio itself presents a splendid, and at the same time, an appalling spectacle; but when its waters mingle with those of the mississippi, then, kind reader, is the time to view an american flood in all its astonishing magnificence. at the foot of the falls of the ohio, the water has been known to rise upwards of sixty feet above its lowest level. the river, at this point, has already run a course of nearly seven hundred miles from its origin at pittsburgh in pennsylvania, during which it has received the waters of its numberless tributaries, and overflowing all the bottom lands or valleys, has swept along the fences and dwellings which have been unable to resist its violence. i could relate hundreds of incidents which might prove to you the dreadful effects of such an inundation, and which have been witnessed by thousands besides myself. i have known, for example, of a cow swimming through a window, elevated at least seven feet from the ground, and sixty-two feet above low-water mark. the house was then surrounded by water from the ohio, which runs in front of it, while the neighboring country was overflowed; yet, the family did not remove from it, but remained in its upper portion, having previously taken off the sashes of the lower windows, and opened the doors. but let us return to the mississippi. there the overflow is astonishing, for no sooner has the water reached the upper part of the banks than it rushes out and overspreads the whole of the neighboring swamps, presenting an ocean overgrown with stupendous forest-trees. so sudden is the calamity that every individual, whether man or beast, has to exert his utmost ingenuity to enable him to escape from the dreaded element. the indian quickly removes to the hills of the interior, the cattle and game swim to the different strips of land that remain uncovered in the midst of the flood, or attempt to force their way through the waters until they perish from fatigue. along the banks of the river, the inhabitants have rafts ready made, on which they remove themselves, their cattle, and their provisions, and which they then fasten with ropes or grape-vines to the larger trees, while they contemplate the melancholy spectacle presented by the current, as it carries off their houses and wood-yards piece by piece. some who have nothing to lose, and are usually known by the name of _squatters_, take this opportunity of traversing the woods in canoes, for the purpose of procuring game, and particularly the skins of animals, such as the deer and bear, which may be converted into money. they resort to the low ridges surrounded by the waters, and destroy thousands of deer, merely for their skins, leaving the flesh to putrefy. the river itself, rolling its swollen waters along, presents a spectacle of the most imposing nature. although no large vessel, unless propelled by steam, can now make its way against the current, it is seen covered by boats, laden with produce, which, running out from all the smaller streams, float silently towards the city of new orleans, their owners meanwhile not very well assured of finding a landing-place even there. the water is covered with yellow foam and pumice, the latter having floated from the rocky mountains of the northwest. the eddies are larger and more powerful than ever. here and there tracts of forest are observed undermined, the trees gradually giving way, and falling into the stream. cattle, horses, bears, and deer are seen at times attempting to swim across the impetuous mass of foaming and boiling water; whilst here and there a vulture or an eagle is observed perched on a bloated carcass, tearing it up in pieces, as regardless of the flood as on former occasions it would have been of the numerous sawyers and planters with which the surface of the river is covered when the water is low. even the steamer is frequently distressed. the numberless trees and logs that float along break its paddles, and retard its progress. besides, it is on such occasions difficult to procure fuel to maintain its fires; and it is only at very distant intervals that a wood-yard can be found which the water has not carried off. following the river in your canoe, you reach those parts of the shores that are protected against the overflowings of the waters, and are called _levees_. there you find the whole population of the district at work repairing and augmenting those artificial barriers, which are several feet above the level of the fields. every person appears to dread the opening of a _crevasse_, by which the waters may rush into his fields. in spite of all exertions, however, the crevasse opens, the water bursts impetuously over the plantations, and lays waste the crops which so lately were blooming in all the luxuriance of spring. it opens up a new channel, which, for aught i know to the contrary, may carry its waters even to the mexican gulf. i have floated on the mississippi and ohio when thus swollen, and have in different places visited the submersed lands of the interior, propelling a light canoe by the aid of a paddle. in this manner i have traversed immense portions of the country overflowed by the waters of these rivers, and particularly when floating over the mississippi bottom-lands i have been struck with awe at the sight. little or no current is met with, unless when the canoe passes over the bed of a bayou. all is silent and melancholy, unless when the mournful bleating of the hemmed-in deer reaches your ear, or the dismal scream of an eagle or a raven is heard, as the foul bird rises, disturbed by your approach, from the carcass on which it was allaying its craving appetite. bears, cougars, lynxes, and all other quadrupeds that can ascend the trees are observed crouched among their top branches. hungry in the midst of abundance, although they see floating around them the animals on which they usually prey, they dare not venture to swim to them. fatigued by the exertions which they have made to reach the dry land, they will there stand the hunter's fire, as if to die by a ball were better than to perish amid the waste of waters. on occasions like this, all these animals are shot by hundreds. opposite the city of natchez, which stands on a bluff bank of considerable elevation, the extent of inundated land is immense, the greater portion of the tract lying between the mississippi and the red river, which is more than thirty miles in breadth, being under water. the mail-bag has often been carried through the immersed forests, in a canoe, for even a greater distance, in order to be forwarded to natchitochez. but now, kind reader, observe this great flood gradually subsiding, and again see the mighty changes which it has effected. the waters have now been carried into the distant ocean. the earth is everywhere covered by a deep deposit of muddy loam, which in drying splits into deep and narrow chasms, presenting a reticulated appearance, and from which, as the weather becomes warmer, disagreeable, and at times noxious, exhalations arise, and fill the lower stratum of the atmosphere as with a dense fog. the banks of the river have almost everywhere been broken down in a greater or less degree. large streams are now found to exist, where none were formerly to be seen, having forced their way in direct lines from the upper parts of the bends. these are by the navigator called _short-cuts_. some of them have proved large enough to produce a change in the navigation of the mississippi. if i mistake not, one of these, known by the name of the _grand cut-off_, and only a few miles in length, has diverted the river from its natural course, and has shortened it by fifty miles. the upper parts of the islands present a bulwark consisting of an enormous mass of floated trees of all kinds, which have lodged there. large sand-banks have been completely removed by the impetuous whirls of the waters, and have been deposited in other places. some appear quite new to the eye of the navigator, who has to mark their situation and bearings in his log-book. the trees on the margins of the banks have in many parts given way. they are seen bending over the stream, like the grounded arms of an overwhelmed army of giants. everywhere are heard the lamentations of the farmer and planter, whilst their servants and themselves are busily employed in repairing the damages occasioned by the floods. at one crevasse an old ship or two, dismantled for the purpose, are sunk, to obstruct the passage opened by the still rushing waters, while new earth is brought to fill up the chasms. the squatter is seen shouldering his rifle, and making his way through the morass, in search of his lost stock, to drive the survivors home, and save the skins of the drowned. new fences have everywhere to be formed; even new houses must be erected, to save which from a like disaster, the settler places them on an elevated platform supported by pillars made by the trunks of trees. the land must be ploughed anew, and if the season is not too far advanced, a crop of corn and potatoes may yet be raised. but the rich prospects of the planter are blasted. the traveller is impeded in his journey, the creeks and smaller streams having broken up their banks in a degree proportionate to their size. a bank of sand, which seems firm and secure, suddenly gives way beneath the traveller's horse, and the next moment the animal has sunk in the quicksand, either to the chest in front, or over the crupper behind, leaving its master in a situation not to be envied. unlike the mountain torrents and small rivers of other parts of the world, the mississippi rises but slowly during these floods, continuing for several weeks to increase at the rate of about an inch a day. when at its height, it undergoes little fluctuation for some days, and after this, subsides as slowly as it rose. the usual duration of a flood is from four to six weeks, although, on some occasions, it is protracted to two months. every one knows how largely the idea of floods and cataclysms enters into the speculations of the geologist. if the streamlets of the european continent afford illustrations of the formation of strata, how much more must the mississippi, with its ever-shifting sand-banks, its crumbling shores, its enormous masses of drift timber, the source of future beds of coal, its extensive and varied alluvial deposits, and its mighty mass of waters rolling sullenly along, like the flood of eternity. the squatters of the mississippi although every european traveller who has glided down the mississippi, at the rate of ten miles an hour, has told his tale of the squatters, yet none has given any other account of them, than that they are "a sallow, sickly looking sort of miserable beings," living in swamps, and subsisting on pig-nuts, indian-corn, and bear's-flesh. it is obvious, however, that none but a person acquainted with their history, manners, and condition, can give any real information respecting them. the individuals who become squatters, choose that sort of life of their own free will. they mostly remove from other parts of the united states, after finding that land has become too high in price, and they are persons who, having a family of strong and hardy children, are anxious to enable them to provide for themselves. they have heard from good authorities that the country extending along the great streams of the west, is of all parts of the union, the richest in its soil, the growth of its timber, and the abundance of its game; that, besides, the mississippi is the great road to and from all the markets in the world; and that every vessel borne by its waters affords to settlers some chance of selling their commodities, or of exchanging them for others. to these recommendations is added another, of even greater weight with persons of the above denomination, namely, the prospect of being able to settle on land, and perhaps to hold it for a number of years, without purchase, rent or tax of any kind. how many thousands of individuals in all parts of the globe would gladly try their fortune with such prospects, i leave to you, reader, to determine. as i am not disposed too highly to color the picture which i am about to submit to your inspection, instead of pitching on individuals who have removed from our eastern boundaries, and of whom certainly there are a good number, i shall introduce to you the members of a family from virginia, first giving you an idea of their condition in that country, previous to their migration to the west. the land which they and their ancestors have possessed for a hundred years, having been constantly forced to produce crops of one kind or another, is now completely worn out. it exhibits only a superficial layer of red clay, cut up by deep ravines, through which much of the soil has been conveyed to some more fortunate neighbor, residing in a yet rich and beautiful valley. their strenuous efforts to render it productive have failed. they dispose of everything too cumbrous or expensive for them to remove, retaining only a few horses, a servant or two, and such implements of husbandry and other articles as may be necessary on their journey, or useful when they arrive at the spot of their choice. i think i see them at this moment harnessing their horses, and attaching them to their wagons, which are already filled with bedding, provisions, and the younger children, while on their outside are fastened spinning-wheels and looms, and a bucket filled with tar and tallow swings between the hind wheels. several axes are secured to the bolster, and the feeding-trough of the horses contains pots, kettles, and pans. the servant, now become a driver, rides the near saddled horse, the wife is mounted on another, the worthy husband shoulders his gun, and his sons, clad in plain substantial homespun, drive the cattle ahead, and lead the procession, followed by the hounds and other dogs. their day's journey is short, and not agreeable; the cattle, stubborn or wild, frequently leave the road for the woods, giving the travellers much trouble; the harness of the horses here and there gives way, and needs immediate repair; a basket, which has accidentally dropped, must be gone after, for nothing that they have can be spared; the roads are bad, and now and then all hands are called to push on the wagon, or prevent it from upsetting. yet by sunset they have proceeded perhaps twenty miles. rather fatigued, all assemble round the fire, which has been lighted, supper is prepared, and a camp being erected, there they pass the night. days and weeks, nay months, of unremitting toil, pass before they gain the end of their journey. they have crossed both the carolinas, georgia, and alabama. they have been travelling from the beginning of may to that of september, and with heavy hearts they traverse the state of mississippi. but now, arrived on the banks of the broad stream, they gaze in amazement on the dark deep woods around them. boats of various kinds they see gliding downwards with the current, while others slowly ascend against it. a few inquiries are made at the nearest dwelling, and assisted by the inhabitants with their boats, and canoes, they at once cross the mississippi, and select their place of habitation. the exhalations arising from the swamps and morasses around them have a powerful effect on these new settlers, but all are intent on preparing for the winter. a small patch of ground is cleared by the axe and the fire, a temporary cabin is erected, to each of the cattle is attached a jingling bell before it is let loose into the neighboring cane-brake, and the horses remain about the house, where they find sufficient food at that season. the first trading-boat that stops at their landing, enables them to provide themselves with some flour, fish-hooks, and ammunition, as well as other commodities. the looms are mounted, the spinning-wheels soon furnish some yarn, and in a few weeks the family throw off their ragged clothes, and array themselves in suits adapted to the climate. the father and sons meanwhile have sown turnips and other vegetables; and from some kentucky flatboat, a supply of live poultry has been procured. october tinges the leaves of the forest, the morning dews are heavy, the days hot, the nights chill, and the unacclimated family in a few days are attacked with ague. the lingering disease almost prostrates their whole faculties, and one seeing them at such a period might well call them sallow and sickly. fortunately the unhealthy season soon passes over, and the hoar-frosts make their appearance. gradually each individual recovers strength. the largest ash-trees are felled; their trunks are cut, split, and corded in front of the building; a large fire is lighted at night on the edge of the water, and soon a steamer calls to purchase the wood, and thus add to their comforts during the winter. the first fruit of their industry imparts new courage to them; their exertions multiply, and when spring returns, the place has a cheerful look. venison, bear's-flesh, wild turkeys, ducks and geese, with now and then some fish, have served to keep up their strength, and now their enlarged field is planted with corn, potatoes, and pumpkins. their stock of cattle, too, has augmented; the steamer, which now stops there as if by preference, buys a calf or a pig, together with the whole of their wood. their store of provisions is renewed, and brighter rays of hope enliven their spirits. who is he of the settlers on the mississippi that cannot realize some profit? truly none who is industrious. when the autumnal months return, all are better prepared to encounter the ague which then prevails. substantial food, suitable clothing, and abundant firing, repel its attacks; and before another twelvemonth has elapsed the family is naturalized. the sons have by this time discovered a swamp covered with excellent timber, and as they have seen many great rafts of saw logs, bound for the mills of new orleans, floating past their dwelling, they resolve to try the success of a little enterprise. their industry and prudence have already enhanced their credit. a few cross-saws are purchased, and some broad-wheeled "carry-logs" are made by themselves. log after log, is hauled to the bank of the river, and in a short time their first raft is made on the shore, and loaded with cord-wood. when the next freshet sets it afloat, it is secured by long grape-vines or cables, until the proper time being arrived, the husband and sons embark on it, and float down the mighty stream. after encountering many difficulties, they arrive in safety at new orleans, where they dispose of their stock, the money obtained for which may be said to be all profit, supply themselves with such articles as may add to their convenience or comfort, and with light hearts procure a passage on the upper deck of a steamer, at a very cheap rate, on account of the benefit of their labor in taking in wood or otherwise. and now the vessel approaches their home. see the joyous mother and daughters as they stand on the bank! a store of vegetables lies around them, a large tub of fresh milk is at their feet, and in their hands are plates, filled with rolls of butter. as the steamer stops, three broad straw hats are waved from the upper deck, and soon husband and wife, brothers and sisters, are in each other's embrace. the boat carries off the provisions for which value has been left, and as the captain issues his orders for putting on the steam, the happy family enter their humble dwelling. the husband gives his bag of dollars to the wife, while the sons present some token of affection to the sisters. surely, at such a moment, the squatters are richly repaid for all their labors. every successive year has increased their savings. they now possess a large stock of horses, cows, and hogs, with abundance of provisions, and domestic comfort of every kind. the daughters have been married to the sons of neighboring squatters, and have gained sisters to themselves by the marriage of their brothers. the government secures to the family the lands on which, twenty years before, they settled in poverty and sickness. larger buildings are erected on piles, secure from the inundations; where a single cabin once stood, a neat village is now to be seen; warehouses, stores, and workshops increase the importance of the place. the squatters live respected, and in due time die regretted by all who knew them. thus are the vast frontiers of our country peopled, and thus does cultivation, year after year, extend over the western wilds. time will no doubt be, when the great valley of the mississippi, still covered with primeval forests interspersed with swamps, will smile with corn-fields and orchards, while crowded cities will rise at intervals along its banks, and enlightened nations will rejoice in the bounties of providence. improvements in the navigation of the mississippi i have so frequently spoken of the mississippi that an account of the progress of navigation on that extraordinary stream may be interesting even to the student of nature. i shall commence with the year , at which time a great portion of the western country, and the banks of the mississippi river, from above the city of natchez particularly, were little more than a waste, or to use words better suited to my feelings, remained in their natural state. to ascend the great stream against a powerful current, rendered still stronger wherever islands occurred, together with the thousands of sand-banks, as liable to changes and shiftings as the alluvial shores themselves, which at every deep curve or _bend_ were seen giving way, as if crushed down by the weight of the great forests that everywhere reached to the very edge of the water, and falling and sinking in the muddy stream by acres at a time, was an adventure of no small difficulty and risk, and which was rendered more so by the innumerable logs, called _sawyers_ and _planters_, that everywhere raised their heads above the water, as if bidding defiance to all intruders. few white inhabitants had yet marched towards its shores, and these few were of a class little able to assist the navigator. here and there a solitary encampment of native indians might be seen, but its inmates were as likely to prove foes as friends, having from their birth been made keenly sensible of the encroachments of the white men upon their lands. such was then the nature of the mississippi and its shores. that river was navigated, principally in the direction of the current, in small canoes, pirogues, keel-boats, some flatboats, and a few barges. the canoes and pirogues, being generally laden with furs from the different heads of streams that feed the great river, were of little worth after reaching the market of new orleans, and seldom reascended, the owners making their way home through the woods, amidst innumerable difficulties. the flatboats were demolished and used as fire-wood. the keel-boats and barges were employed in conveying produce of different kinds besides furs, such as lead, flour, pork, and other articles. these returned laden with sugar, coffee, and dry goods suited for the markets of st. geneviève and st. louis on the upper mississippi, or branched off and ascended the ohio to the foot of the falls near louisville in kentucky. but, reader, follow their movements, and judge for yourself of the fatigues, troubles, and risks of the men employed in that navigation. a keel-boat was generally manned by ten hands, principally canadian french, and a patroon or master. these boats seldom carried more than from twenty to thirty tons. the barges frequently had forty or fifty men, with a patroon, and carried fifty or sixty tons. both these kinds of vessels were provided with a mast, a square sail, and coils of cordage known by the name of _cordelles_. each boat or barge carried its own provisions. we shall suppose one of these boats under way, and, having passed natchez, entering upon what were the difficulties of their ascent. wherever a point projected, so as to render the course or bend below it of some magnitude, there was an eddy, the returning current of which was sometimes as strong as that of the middle of the great stream. the bargemen therefore rowed up pretty close under the bank, and had merely to keep watch in the bow, lest the boat should run against a planter or sawyer. but the boat has reached the point, and there the current is to all appearance of double strength, and right against it. the men, who have all rested a few minutes, are ordered to take their stations, and lay hold of their oars, for the river must be crossed, it being seldom possible to double such a point, and proceed along the same shore. the boat is crossing, its head slanting to the current, which is, however, too strong for the rowers, and when the other side of the river has been reached, it has drifted perhaps a quarter of a mile. the men are by this time exhausted, and, as we shall suppose it to be twelve o'clock, fasten the boat to the shore or to a tree. a small glass of whiskey is given to each, when they cook and eat their dinner, and after repairing their fatigue by an hour's repose, recommence their labors. the boat is again seen slowly advancing against the stream. it has reached the lower end of a large sand-bar, along the edge of which it is propelled by means of long poles, if the bottom be hard. two men called bowsmen remain at the prow, to assist, in concert with the steersman, in managing the boat, and keeping its head right against the current. the rest place themselves on the land side of the footway of the vessel, put one end of their poles on the ground, the other against their shoulders, and push with all their might. as each of the men reaches the stern, he crosses to the other side, runs along it, and comes again to the landward side of the bow, when he recommences operations. the barge in the meantime is ascending at a rate not exceeding one mile in the hour. the bar is at length passed, and as the shore in sight is straight on both sides of the river, and the current uniformly strong, the poles are laid aside, and the men being equally divided, those on the river side take to their oars, whilst those on the land side lay hold of the branches of willows, or other trees, and thus slowly propel the boat. here and there however, the trunk of a fallen tree, partly lying on the bank, and partly projecting beyond it, impedes their progress, and requires to be doubled. this is performed by striking it with the iron points of the poles and gaff-hooks. the sun is now quite low, and the barge is again secured in the best harbor within reach. the navigators cook their supper, and betake themselves to their blankets or bear skins to rest, or perhaps light a large fire on the shore, under the smoke of which they repose, in order to avoid the persecutions of the myriads of mosquitoes which are found along the river during the whole summer. perhaps, from dawn to sunset, the boat may have advanced fifteen miles. if so, it has done well. the next day, the wind proves favorable, the sail is set, the boat takes all advantages, and meeting with no accident, has ascended thirty miles, perhaps double that distance. the next day comes with a very different aspect. the wind is right ahead, the shores are without trees of any kind, and the canes on the bank are so thick and stout that not even the cordelles can be used. this occasions a halt. the time is not altogether lost, as most of the men, being provided with rifles, betake themselves to the woods, and search for the deer, the bears, or the turkeys that are generally abundant there. three days may pass before the wind changes, and the advantages gained on the previous fine day are forgotten. again the boat proceeds, but in passing over a shallow place, runs on a log, swings with the current, but hangs fast, with her lee side almost under water. now for the poles! all hands are on deck, bustling and pushing. at length, towards sunset, the boat is once more afloat, and is again taken to the shore, where the wearied crew pass another night. i shall not continue this account of difficulties, it having already become painful in the extreme. i could tell you of the crew abandoning the boat and cargo, and of numberless accidents and perils; but be it enough to say that advancing in this tardy manner, the boat that left new orleans on the first of march often did not reach the falls of the ohio until the month of july,--nay, sometimes not until october; and after all this immense trouble, it brought only a few bags of coffee, and at most one hundred hogsheads of sugar. such was the state of things in . the number of barges at that period did not amount to more than twenty-five or thirty, and the largest probably did not exceed one hundred tons burden. to make the best of this fatiguing navigation, i may conclude by saying that a barge which came up in three months had done wonders, for, i believe, few voyages were performed in that time. if i am not mistaken, the first steamboat that went down out of the ohio to new orleans was named the "orleans," and, if i remember right, was commanded by captain ogden. this voyage, i believe, was performed in the spring of . it was, as you may suppose, looked upon as the _ne plus ultra_ of enterprise. soon after, another vessel came from pittsburgh, and before many years elapsed, to see a vessel so propelled had become a common occurrence. in , after a lapse of time that proved sufficient to double the population of the united states of america, the navigation of the mississippi had so improved, both in respect to facility and quickness, that i know no better way of giving you an idea of it than by presenting you with an extract from a letter written by my eldest son, which was taken from the books of n. berthoud, esq., with whom he at that time resided. "you ask me in your last letter for a list of the arrivals and departures here. i give you an abstract from our list of , showing the number of boats which plied each year, their tonnage, the trips they performed, and the quantity of goods landed here from new orleans and intermediate places:-- boats. tons. trips. tons. , from jan. to dec. , , , " " " nov. , , , " " " aug. , , , " " " dec. , , the amount for the present year will be much greater than any of the above. the number of flatboats and keel-boats is beyond calculation. the number of steamboats above the falls i cannot say much about, except that one or two arrive at and leave louisville every day. their passage from cincinnati is commonly fourteen or sixteen hours. the "tecumseh," a boat which runs between this place and new orleans, which is of tons, arrived here on the th inst. in nine days, seven hours, from port to port; and the "philadelphia," of tons, made the passage in nine days, nine and a half hours, the computed distance being miles. these are the quickest trips made. there are now in operation on the waters west of the alleghany mountains or boats. we had last spring ( ) a very high freshet, which came four and a half feet deep in the counting-room. the rise was feet inches perpendicular." all the steamboats of which this is an account did not perform voyages to new orleans only, but to all points on the mississippi, and other rivers which fall into it. i am certain that since the above date the number has increased, but to what extent i cannot at present say. when steamboats first plied between shippingport and new orleans, the cabin passage was a hundred dollars, and a hundred and fifty dollars on the upward voyage. in , i went down to natchez from shippingport for twenty-five dollars, and ascended from new orleans on board the "philadelphia," in the beginning of january, , for sixty dollars, having taken two state-rooms for my wife and myself. on that voyage we met with a trifling accident, which protracted it to fourteen days, the computed distance being, as mentioned above, miles, although the real distance is probably less. i do not remember to have spent a day without meeting with a steamboat, and some days we met several. i might here be tempted to give you a description of one of these steamers of the western waters, but the picture having been often drawn by abler hands, i shall desist. kentucky sports it may not be amiss, kind reader, before i attempt to give you some idea of the pleasures experienced by the sportsmen of kentucky, to introduce the subject with a slight description of that state. kentucky was formerly attached to virginia, but in those days the indians looked upon that portion of the western wilds as their own, and abandoned the district only when forced to do so, moving with disconsolate hearts farther into the recesses of the unexplored forests. doubtless the richness of its soil, and the beauty of its borders, situated as they are along one of the most beautiful rivers in the world, contributed as much to attract the old virginians as the desire, so generally experienced in america, of spreading over the uncultivated tracts, and bringing into cultivation lands that have for unknown ages teemed with the wild luxuriance of untamed nature. the conquest of kentucky was not performed without many difficulties. the warfare that long existed between the intruders and the redskins was sanguinary and protracted; but the former at length made good their footing, and the latter drew off their shattered bands, dismayed by the mental superiority and indomitable courage of the white men. this region was probably discovered by a daring hunter, the renowned daniel boone. the richness of its soil, its magnificent forests, its numberless navigable streams, its salt springs and licks, its saltpetre caves, its coal strata, and the vast herds of buffaloes and deer that browsed on its hills and amidst its charming valleys, afforded ample inducements to the new settler, who pushed forward with a spirit far above that of the most undaunted tribes which for ages had been the sole possessors of the soil. the virginians thronged towards the ohio. an axe, a couple of horses, and a heavy rifle, with store of ammunition, were all that were considered necessary for the equipments of the man, who, with his family, removed to the new state, assured that, in that land of exuberant fertility, he could not fail to provide amply for all his wants. to have witnessed the industry and perseverance of these emigrants must at once have proved the vigor of their minds. regardless of the fatigue attending every movement which they made, they pushed through an unexplored region of dark and tangled forests, guiding themselves by the sun alone, and reposing at night on the bare ground. numberless streams they had to cross on rafts, with their wives and children, their cattle and their luggage, often drifting to considerable distances before they could effect a landing on the opposite shores. their cattle would often stray amid the rice pasturage of these shores, and occasion a delay of several days. to these troubles add the constantly impending danger of being murdered, while asleep in their encampments, by the prowling and ruthless indians; while they had before them a distance of hundreds of miles to be traversed, before they could reach certain places of rendezvous called _stations_. to encounter difficulties like these must have required energies of no ordinary kind; and the reward which these veteran settlers enjoy was doubtless well merited. [illustration: victor gifford audubon, .] some removed from the atlantic shores to those of the ohio in more comfort and security. they had their wagons, their negroes, and their families. their way was cut through the woods by their own axemen, the day before their advance, and when night overtook them, the hunters attached to the party came to the place pitched upon for encamping, loaded with the dainties of which the forest yielded an abundant supply, the blazing light of a huge fire guiding their steps as they approached, and the sounds of merriment that saluted their ears assuring them that all was well. the flesh of the buffalo, the bear, and the deer soon hung, in large and delicious steaks, in front of the embers; the cakes already prepared were deposited in their proper places, and under the rich drippings of the juicy roasts were quickly baked. the wagons contained the bedding, and whilst the horses which had drawn them were turned loose to feed on the luxuriant undergrowth of the woods--some perhaps hoppled, but the greater number merely with a light bell hung to their neck, to guide their owners in the morning to the spot where they might have rambled--the party were enjoying themselves after the fatigues of the day. in anticipation all is pleasure; and these migrating bands feasted in joyous sociality, unapprehensive of any greater difficulties than those to be encountered in forcing their way through the pathless woods to the land of abundance; and although it took months to accomplish the journey, and a skirmish now and then took place between them and the indians, who sometimes crept unperceived into their very camp, still did the virginians cheerfully proceed towards the western horizon, until the various groups all reached the ohio, when, struck with the beauty of that magnificent stream, they at once commenced the task of clearing land, for the purpose of establishing a permanent residence. others, perhaps encumbered with too much luggage, preferred descending the stream. they prepared _arks_ pierced with port-holes, and glided on the gentle current, more annoyed, however, than those who marched by land by the attacks of the indians who watched their motions. many travellers have described these boats, formerly called _arks_, but now named _flatboats_. but have they told you, kind reader, that in those times a boat thirty or forty feet in length, by ten or twelve in breadth, was considered a stupendous fabric; that this boat contained men, women and children, huddled together, with horses, cattle, hogs and poultry for their companions, while the remaining portion was crammed with vegetables and packages of seeds? the roof or deck of the boat was not unlike a farm-yard, being covered with hay, ploughs, carts, wagons, and various agricultural implements, together with numerous others, among which the spinning-wheels of the matrons were conspicuous. even the sides of the floating-mass were loaded with the wheels of the different vehicles, which themselves lay on the roof. have they told you that these boats contained the little all of each family of venturous emigrants, who, fearful of being discovered by the indians under night moved in darkness, groping their way from one part to another of these floating habitations, denying themselves the comfort of fire or light, lest the foe that watched them from the shore should rush upon them and destroy them? have they told you that this boat was used, after the tedious voyage was ended, as the first dwelling of these new settlers? no, kind reader, such things have not been related to you before. the travellers who have visited our country have had other objects in view. i shall not describe the many massacres which took place among the different parties of white and red men, as the former moved down the ohio; because i have never been very fond of battles, and indeed have always wished that the world were more peaceably inclined than it is; and shall merely add that, in one way or other, kentucky was wrested from the original owners of the soil. let us, therefore, turn our attention to the sports still enjoyed in that now happy portion of the united states. we have individuals in kentucky, kind reader, that even there are considered wonderful adepts in the management of the rifle. to _drive a nail_ is a common feat, not more thought of by the kentuckians than to cut off a wild turkey's head, at a distance of a hundred yards. others will _bark_ off squirrels one after another, until satisfied with the number procured. some, less intent on destroying game, may be seen under night _snuffing a candle_ at the distance of fifty yards, off-hand, without extinguishing it. i have been told that some have proved so expert and cool as to make choice of the eye of a foe at a wonderful distance, boasting beforehand of the sureness of their piece, which has afterwards been fully proved when the enemy's head has been examined! having resided some years in kentucky, and having more than once been witness of rifle sport, i shall present you with the results of my observation, leaving you to judge how far rifle-shooting is understood in that state. several individuals who conceive themselves expert in the management of the gun are often seen to meet for the purpose of displaying their skill, and betting a trifling sum, put up a target, in the centre of which a common-sized nail is hammered for about two-thirds of its length. the marksmen make choice of what they consider a proper distance, which may be forty paces. each man cleans the interior of his tube, which is called _wiping_ it, places a ball in the palm of his hand, pouring as much powder from his horn upon it as will cover it. this quantity is supposed to be sufficient for any distance within a hundred yards. a shot which comes very close to the nail is considered as that of an indifferent marksman; the bending of the nail is, of course, somewhat better; but nothing less than hitting it right on the head is satisfactory. well, kind reader, one out of three shots generally hits the nail, and should the shooters amount to half a dozen, two nails are frequently needed before each can have a shot. those who drive the nail have a further trial amongst themselves, and the two best shots out of these generally settle the affair, when all the sportsmen adjourn to some house, and spend an hour or two in friendly intercourse, appointing, before they part, a day for another trial. this is technically termed _driving the nail_. _barking off squirrels_ is delightful sport, and in my opinion requires a greater degree of accuracy than any other. i first witnessed this manner of procuring squirrels whilst near the town of frankfort. the performer was the celebrated daniel boone. we walked out together, and followed the rocky margins of the kentucky river, until we reached a piece of flat land thickly covered with black walnuts, oaks, and hickories. as the general mast was a good one that year, squirrels were seen gambolling on every tree around us. my companion, a stout, hale, and athletic man, dressed in a homespun hunting-shirt, bare-legged and moccasined, carried a long and heavy rifle, which, as he was loading it, he said had proved efficient in all his former undertakings, and which he hoped would not fail on this occasion, as he felt proud to show me his skill. the gun was wiped, the powder measured, the ball patched with six-hundred-thread linen, and the charge sent home with a hickory rod. we moved not a step from the place, for the squirrels were so numerous that it was unnecessary to go after them. boone pointed to one of these animals which had observed us, and was crouched on a branch about fifty paces distant, and bade me mark well the spot where the ball should hit. he raised his piece gradually, until the _bead_ (that being the name given by the kentuckians to the _sight_) of the barrel was brought to a line with the spot which he intended to hit. the whip-like report resounded through the woods and along the hills, in repeated echoes. judge of my surprise when i perceived that the ball had hit the piece of the bark immediately beneath the squirrel, and shivered it into splinters, the concussion produced by which had killed the animal, and sent it whirling through the air, as if it had been blown up by the explosion of a powder magazine. boone kept up his firing, and, before many hours had elapsed, we had procured as many squirrels as we wished; for you must know, kind reader, that to load a rifle requires only a moment, and that if it is wiped once after each shot, it will do duty for hours. since that first interview with our veteran boone i have seen many other individuals perform the same feat. the _snuffing of a candle_ with a ball, i first had an opportunity of seeing near the banks of green river, not far from a large pigeon-roost to which i had previously made a visit. i heard many reports of guns during the early part of a dark night, and knowing them to be those of rifles, i went towards the spot to ascertain the cause. on reaching the place, i was welcomed by a dozen of tall stout men, who told me they were exercising, for the purpose of enabling them to shoot under night at the reflected light from the eyes of a deer or wolf, by torchlight, of which i shall give you an account somewhere else. a fire was blazing near, the smoke of which rose curling among the thick foliage of the trees. at a distance which rendered it scarcely distinguishable, stood a burning candle, as if intended for an offering to the goddess of night, but which in reality was only fifty yards from the spot on which we all stood. one man was within a few yards of it, to watch the effects of the shots, as well as to light the candle should it chance to go out, or to replace it should the shot cut it across. each marksman shot in his turn. some never hit either the snuff or the candle, and were congratulated with a loud laugh; while others actually snuffed the candle without putting it out, and were recompensed for their dexterity by numerous hurrahs. one of them, who was particularly expert, was very fortunate, and snuffed the candle three times out of seven, whilst all the other shots either put out the candle or cut it immediately under the light. of the feats performed by the kentuckians with the rifle, i could say more than might be expedient on the present occasion. in every thinly peopled portion of the state, it is rare to meet one without a gun of that description, as well as a tomahawk. by way of recreation, they often cut off a piece of the bark of a tree, make a target of it, using a little powder wetted with water or saliva, for the bull's-eye, and shoot into the mark all the balls they have about them, picking them out of the wood again. after what i have said, you may easily imagine with what ease a kentuckian procures game, or despatches an enemy, more especially when i tell you that every one in the state is accustomed to handle the rifle from the time when he is first able to shoulder it until near the close of his career. that murderous weapon is the means of procuring them subsistence during all their wild and extensive rambles, and is the source of their principal sports and pleasures. the traveller and the pole-cat on a journey from louisville to henderson in kentucky, performed during very severe winter weather, in company with a foreigner, the initials of whose name are d. t., my companion, spying a beautiful animal, marked with black and pale yellow, and having a long and bushy tail, exclaimed, "mr. audubon, is not that a beautiful squirrel?" "yes," i answered, "and of a kind that will suffer you to approach it and lay hold of it, if you are well gloved." mr. d. t., dismounting, took up a dry stick, and advanced towards the pretty animal, with his large cloak floating in the breeze. i think i see him approach, and laying the stick gently across the body of the animal, try to secure it; and i can yet laugh almost as heartily as i did then, when i plainly saw the discomfiture of the traveller. the pole-cat (for a true pole-cat it was, the _mephitis americana_ of zoölogists) raised its fine bushy tail, and showered such a discharge of the fluid given him by nature as a defence that my friend, dismayed and infuriated, began to belabor the poor animal. the swiftness and good management of the pole-cat, however, saved its bones, and as it made its retreat towards its hole, it kept up at every step a continued ejectment, which fully convinced the gentleman that the pursuit of such squirrels as these was at the best an unprofitable employment. this was not all, however. i could not suffer his approach, nor could my horse; it was with difficulty he mounted his own; and we were forced to continue our journey far asunder, and he much to leeward. nor did the matter end here. we could not proceed much farther that night; as, in the first place, it was nearly dark when we saw the pole-cat, and as, in the second place, a heavy snow-storm began, and almost impeded our progress. we were forced to make for the first cabin we saw. having asked and obtained permission to rest for the night, we dismounted and found ourselves amongst a crowd of men and women who had met for the purpose of _corn-shucking_. to a european who has not visited the western parts of the united states, an explanation of this corn-shucking may not be unacceptable. corn (or you may prefer calling it maize) is gathered in the husk, that is, by breaking each large ear from the stem. these ears are first thrown into heaps in the field, and afterwards carried in carts to the barn, or, as in this instance, and in such portions of kentucky, to a shed made of the blades or long leaves that hang in graceful curves from the stalk, and which, when plucked and dried, are used instead of hay as food for horses and cattle. the husk consists of several thick leaves rather longer than the corn-ear itself, and which secure it from the weather. it is quite a labor to detach these leaves from the ear when thousands of bushels of the corn are gathered and heaped together. for this purpose, however, and in the western country more especially, several neighboring families join alternately at each other's plantations, and assist in clearing away the husks, thus preparing the maize for the market or for domestic use. the good people whom we met with at this hospitable house were on the point of going to the barn (the farmer here being in rather good condition) to work until towards the middle of the night. when we had stood the few stares to which strangers must accustom themselves, no matter where, even in a drawing-room, we approached the fire. what a shock for the whole party! the scent of the pole-cat, that had been almost stifled on my companion's vestments by the cold of the evening air, now recovered its primitive strength. the cloak was put out of the house, but its owner could not well be used in the same way. the company, however, took to their heels, and there only remained a single black servant, who waited on us till supper was served. i felt vexed with myself, as i saw the good traveller displeased. but he had so much good-breeding as to treat this important affair with great forbearance, and merely said he was sorry for his want of knowledge in zoölogy. the good gentleman, however, was not only deficient in zoölogical lore, but, fresh as he was from europe, felt more than uneasy in this out-of-the-way house, and would have proceeded towards my own home that night, had i not at length succeeded in persuading him that he was in perfect security. we were shown to bed. as i was almost a stranger to him, and he to me, he thought it a very awkward thing to be obliged to lie in the same bed with me, but afterwards spoke of it as a happy circumstance, and requested that i should suffer him to be placed next the logs, thinking, no doubt, that there he should run no risk. we started by break of day, taking with us the frozen cloak, and after passing a pleasant night in my own house, we parted. some years after, i met my kentucky companion in a far distant land, when he assured me that whenever the sun shone on his cloak or it was brought near a fire, the scent of the pole-cat became so perceptible that he at last gave it to a poor monk in italy. the animal commonly known in america by the name of the pole-cat is about a foot and a half in length, with a large bushy tail, nearly as long as the body. the color is generally brownish-black, with a large white patch on the back of the head; but there are many varieties of coloring, in some of which the broad white bands of the back are very conspicuous. the pole-cat burrows, or forms a subterranean habitation among the roots of trees, or in rocky places. it feeds on birds, young hares, rats, mice, and other animals, and commits great depredations on poultry. the most remarkable peculiarity of this animal is the power, alluded to above, of squirting for its defence a most nauseously scented fluid contained in a receptacle situated under the tail, which it can do to a distance of several yards. it does not, however, for this purpose sprinkle its tail with the fluid, as some allege, unless when extremely harassed by its enemies. the pole-cat is frequently domesticated. the removal of the glands prevents the secretion of the nauseous fluid, and when thus improved, the animal becomes a great favorite, and performs the offices of the common cat with great dexterity. deer hunting the different modes of deer hunting are probably too well understood, and too successfully practised in the united states; for, notwithstanding the almost incredible abundance of these beautiful animals in our forests and prairies, such havoc is carried on amongst them that, in a few centuries, they will probably be as scarce in america as the great bustard now is in britain. we have three modes of hunting deer, each varying in some slight degree in the different states and districts. the first is termed _still hunting_, and is by far the most destructive. the second is called _fire-light hunting_, and is next in its exterminating effects. the third, which may be looked upon as a mere amusement, is named _driving_. although many deer are destroyed by this latter method, it is not by any means so pernicious as the others. these methods i shall describe separately. _still hunting_ is followed as a kind of trade by most of our frontier-men. to be practised with success it requires great activity, an expert management of the rifle, and a thorough knowledge of the forest, together with an intimate acquaintance with the habits of the deer, not only at different seasons of the year, but also at every hour of the day, as the hunters must be aware of the situations which the game prefers, and in which it is most likely to be found at any particular time. i might here present you with a full account of the habits of our deer, were it not my intention to lay before you, at some future period, in the form of a distinct work, the observations which i have made on the various quadrupeds of our extensive territories. illustrations of any kind require to be presented in the best possible light. we shall therefore suppose that we are now about to follow the _true hunter_, as the "still hunter" is also called, through the interior of the tangled woods, across morasses, ravines, and such places, where the game may prove more or less plentiful, even should none be found there in the first instance. we shall allow our hunter all the agility, patience, and care which his occupation requires, and will march in his rear, as if we were spies, watching all his motions. his dress, you observe, consists of a leather hunting-shirt, and a pair of trousers of the same material. his feet are well moccasined; he wears a belt round his waist; his heavy rifle is resting on his brawny shoulder; on one side hangs his ball pouch, surmounted by the horn of an ancient buffalo, once the terror of the herd, but now containing a pound of the best gunpowder; his butcher knife is scabbarded in the same strap; and behind is a tomahawk, the handle of which has been thrust through his girdle. he walks with so rapid a step that probably few men, beside ourselves, that is, myself and my kind reader, could follow him, unless for a short distance, in their anxiety to witness his ruthless deeds. he stops, looks to the flint of his gun, its priming, and the leather cover of the lock, then glances his eye towards the sky, to judge of the course most likely to lead him to the game. the heavens are clear, the red glare of the morning sun gleams through the lower branches of the lofty trees, the dew hangs in pearly drops at the top of every leaf. already has the emerald hue of the foliage been converted into the more glowing tints of our autumnal months. a slight frost appears on the fence-rails of his little corn-field. as he proceeds he looks to the dead foliage under his feet, in search of the well-known traces of a buck's hoof. now he bends towards the ground, on which something has attracted his attention. see! he alters his course, increases his speed, and will soon reach the opposite hill. now he moves with caution, stops at almost every tree, and peeps forward, as if already within shooting distance of the game. he advances again, but how very slowly! he has reached the declivity, upon which the sun shines in all its growing splendor; but mark him! he takes the gun from his shoulder, has already thrown aside the leathern cover of the lock, and is wiping the edge of the flint with his tongue. now he stands like a monumental figure, perhaps measuring the distance that lies between him and the game which he has in view. his rifle is slowly raised, the report follows, and he runs. let us run also. shall i speak to him, and ask him the result of this first essay? assuredly, reader, for i know him well. "pray, friend, what have you killed?" for to say, "what have you shot at?" might imply the possibility of having missed, and so might hurt his feelings. "nothing but a buck." "and where is it?" "oh, it has taken a jump or so, but i settled it, and will soon be with it. my ball struck, and must have gone through his heart." we arrive at the spot where the animal had laid itself down among the grass in a thicket of grape-vines, sumach, and spruce bushes, where it intended to repose during the middle of the day. the place is covered with blood, the hoofs of the deer have left deep prints in the ground, as it bounced in the agonies produced by its wound; but the blood that has gushed from its side discloses the course which it has taken. we soon reach the spot. there lies the buck, its tongue out, its eye dim, its breath exhausted; it is dead. the hunter draws his knife, cuts the buck's throat almost asunder, and prepares to skin it. for this purpose he hangs it upon the branch of a tree. when the skin is removed, he cuts off the hams, and abandoning the rest of the carcass to the wolves and vultures, reloads his gun, flings the venison, enclosed by the skin, upon his back, secures it with a strap, and walks off in search of more game, well knowing that, in the immediate neighborhood, another at least is to be found. had the weather been warmer, the hunter would have sought for the buck along the _shadowy_ side of the hills. had it been the spring season, he would have led us through some thick cane-brake, to the margin of some remote lake, where you would have seen the deer immersed to his head in the water, to save his body from the tormenting attacks of mosquitoes. had winter overspread the earth with a covering of snow, he would have searched the low, damp woods, where the mosses and lichens, on which at that period the deer feeds, abound; the trees being generally crusted with them for several feet from the ground. at one time he might have marked the places where the deer clears the velvet from his horns by rubbing them against the low stems of bushes, and where he frequently scrapes the earth with his fore-hoofs; at another he would have betaken himself to places where persimmons and crab-apples abound, as beneath these trees the deer frequently stops to munch their fruits. during early spring our hunter would imitate the bleating of the doe, and thus frequently obtain both her and the fawn, or, like some tribes of indians, he would prepare a deer's head, placed on a stick, and creeping with it amongst the tall grass of the prairies, would decoy deer in reach of his rifle. but, kind reader, you have seen enough of the _still hunter_. let it suffice for me to add that by the mode pursued by him thousands of deer are annually killed, many individuals shooting these animals merely for the skin, not caring for even the most valuable portions of the flesh, unless hunger, or a near market, induce them to carry off the hams. the mode of destroying deer by _fire-light_, or, as it is named in some parts of the country, _forest-light_, never fails to produce a very singular feeling in him who witnesses it for the first time. there is something in it which at times appears awfully grand. at other times a certain degree of fear creeps over the mind, and even affects the physical powers of him who follows the hunter through the thick undergrowth of our woods, having to leap his horse over hundreds of huge fallen trunks, at one time impeded by a straggling grape-vine crossing his path, at another squeezed between two stubborn saplings, whilst their twigs come smack in his face, as his companion has forced his way through them. again, he now and then runs the risk of breaking his neck, by being suddenly pitched headlong on the ground, as his horse sinks into a hole covered over with moss. but i must proceed in a more regular manner, and leave you, kind reader, to judge whether such a mode of hunting would suit your taste or not. the hunter has returned to his camp or his house, has rested and eaten of his game. he waits impatiently for the return of night. he has procured a quantity of pine knots filled with resinous matter, and has an old frying-pan, that, for aught i know to the contrary, may have been used by his great-grandmother, in which the pine-knots are to be placed when lighted. the horses stand saddled at the door. the hunter comes forth, his rifle slung on his shoulder, and springs upon one of them, while his son, or a servant, mounts the other with the frying-pan and the pine-knots. thus accoutred, they proceed towards the interior of the forest. when they have arrived at the spot where the hunt is to begin, they strike fire with a flint and steel, and kindle the resinous wood. the person who carries the fire moves in the direction judged to be the best. the blaze illuminates the near objects, but the distant parts seem involved in deepest obscurity. the hunter who bears the gun keeps immediately in front, and after a while discovers before him two feeble lights, which are produced by the reflection of the pine-fire from the eyes of an animal of the deer or wolf kind. the animal stands quite still. to one unacquainted with this strange mode of hunting, the glare from its eyes might bring to his imagination some lost hobgoblin that had strayed from its usual haunts. the hunter, however, nowise intimidated, approaches the object, sometimes so near as to discern its form, when, raising the rifle to his shoulder, he fires and kills it on the spot. he then dismounts, secures the skin and such portions of the flesh as he may want, in the manner already described, and continues his search through the greater part of the night, sometimes until the dawn of day, shooting from five to ten deer, should these animals be plentiful. this kind of hunting proves fatal, not to the deer alone, but also sometimes to wolves, and now and then to a horse or cow, which may have straggled far into the woods. now, kind reader, prepare to mount a generous, full-blood virginian hunter. see that your gun is in complete order, for hark to the sound of the bugle and horn, and the mingled clamor of a pack of harriers! your friends are waiting for you, under the shade of the wood, and we must together go _driving_ the light-footed deer. the distance over which one has to travel is seldom felt when pleasure is anticipated as the result; so galloping we go pell-mell through the woods, to some well-known place where many a fine buck has drooped its antlers under the ball of the hunter's rifle. the servants, who are called the drivers, have already begun their search. their voices are heard exciting the hounds, and unless we put spurs to our steeds, we may be too late at our stand, and thus lose the first opportunity of shooting the fleeting game as it passes by. hark again! the dogs are in chase, the horn sounds louder and more clearly. hurry, hurry on, or we shall be sadly behind! here we are at last! dismount, fasten your horse to this tree, place yourself by the side of that large yellow poplar, and mind you do not shoot me! the deer is fast approaching; i will to my own stand, and he who shoots him dead wins the prize. the deer is heard coming. it has inadvertently cracked a dead stick with its hoof, and the dogs are now so near that it will pass in a moment. there it comes! how beautifully it bounds over the ground! what a splendid head of horns! how easy its attitudes, depending, as it seems to do, on its own swiftness for safety! all is in vain, however; a gun is fired, the animal plunges and doubles with incomparable speed. there he goes! he passes another stand, from which a second shot, better directed than the first, brings him to the ground. the dogs, the servants, the sportsmen are now rushing forward to the spot. the hunter who has shot it is congratulated on his skill or good luck, and the chase begins again in some other part of the woods. a few lines of explanation may be required to convey a clear idea of this mode of hunting. deer are fond of following and retracing paths which they have formerly pursued, and continue to do so even after they have been shot at more than once. these tracks are discovered by persons on horseback in the woods, or a deer is observed crossing a road, a field, or a small stream. when this has been noticed twice, the deer may be shot from the places called _stands_ by the sportsman, who is stationed there, and waits for it, a line of stands being generally formed so as to cross the path which the game will follow. the person who ascertains the usual pass of the game, or discovers the parts where the animal feeds or lies down during the day, gives intimation to his friends, who then prepare for the chase. the servants start the deer with the hounds, and by good management generally succeed in making it run the course that will soonest bring it to its death. but, should the deer be cautious, and take another course, the hunters, mounted on swift horses, gallop through the woods to intercept it, guided by the sound of the horns and the cry of the dogs, and frequently succeed in shooting it. this sport is extremely agreeable, and proves successful on almost every occasion. hoping that this account will be sufficient to induce you, kind reader, to go _driving_ in our western and southern woods, i now conclude my chapter on deer hunting by informing you that the species referred to above is the virginia deer, _cervus virginianus_; and that, until i be able to present you with a full account of its habits and history, you may consult for information respecting it the excellent "fauna americana" of my esteemed friend dr. harlan, of philadelphia. the eccentric naturalist "what an odd-looking fellow!" said i to myself, as, while walking by the river, i observed a man landing from a boat, with what i thought a bundle of dried clover on his back; "how the boatmen stare at him! sure he must be an original!" he ascended with a rapid step, and approaching me asked if i could point out the house in which mr. audubon resided. "why, i am the man," said i, "and will gladly lead you to my dwelling." the traveller rubbed his hands together with delight, and drawing a letter from his pocket handed it to me without any remark. i broke the seal and read as follows: "my dear audubon, i send you an odd fish, which you may prove to be undescribed, and hope you will do so in your next letter. believe me always your friend b." with all the simplicity of a woodsman i asked the bearer where the odd fish was, when m. de t. (for, kind reader, the individual in my presence was none else than that renowned naturalist) smiled, rubbed his hands, and with the greatest good-humor said, "i am that odd fish i presume, mr. audubon." i felt confounded and blushed, but contrived to stammer an apology. we soon reached the house, when i presented my learned guest to my family, and was ordering a servant to go to the boat for m. de t.'s luggage, when he told me he had none but what he brought on his back. he then loosened the pack of weeds which had first drawn my attention. the ladies were a little surprised, but i checked their critical glances for the moment. the naturalist pulled off his shoes, and while engaged in drawing his stockings, not up, but down, in order to cover the holes about the heels, told us in the gayest mood imaginable that he had walked a great distance, and had only taken a passage on board the _ark_, to be put on this shore, and that he was sorry his apparel had suffered so much from his late journey. clean clothes were offered, but he would not accept them, and it was with evident reluctance that he performed the lavations usual on such occasions before he sat down to dinner. at table, however, his agreeable conversation made us all forget his singular appearance; and, indeed, it was only as we strolled together in the garden that his attire struck me as exceedingly remarkable. a long loose coat of yellow nankeen, much the worse for the many rubs it had got in its time, and stained all over with the juice of plants, hung loosely about him like a sac. a waistcoat of the same, with enormous pockets, and buttoned up to his chin, reached below over a pair of tight pantaloons, the lower parts of which were buttoned down to the ankles. his beard was as long as i have known my own to be during some of my peregrinations, and his lank black hair hung loosely over his shoulders. his forehead was so broad and prominent that any tyro in phrenology would instantly have pronounced it the residence of a mind of strong powers. his words impressed an assurance of rigid truth, and as he directed the conversation to the study of the natural sciences, i listened to him with as much delight as telemachus could have listened to mentor. he had come to visit me, he said, expressly for the purpose of seeing my drawings, having been told that my representations of birds were accompanied with those of shrubs and plants, and he was desirous of knowing whether i might chance to have in my collection any with which he was unacquainted. i observed some degree of impatience in his request to be allowed at once to see what i had. we returned to the house, when i opened my portfolios and laid them before him. he chanced to turn over the drawing of a plant quite new to him. after inspecting it closely, he shook his head, and told me no such plant existed in nature; for, kind reader, m. de t., although a highly scientific man, was suspicious to a fault, and believed such plants only to exist as he had himself seen, or such as, having been discovered of old, had, according to father malebranche's expression, acquired a "venerable beard." i told my guest that the plant was common in the immediate neighborhood, and that i should show it him on the morrow. "and why to-morrow, mr. audubon? let us go now." we did so, and on reaching the bank of the river i pointed to the plant. m. de t., i thought, had gone mad. he plucked the plants one after another, danced, hugged me in his arms, and exultingly told me that he had got not merely a new species, but a new genus. when we returned home, the naturalist opened the bundle which he had brought on his back, and took out a journal rendered water-proof by means of a leather case, together with a small parcel of linen, examined the new plant, and wrote its description. the examination of my drawings then went on. you would be pleased, kind reader, to hear his criticisms, which were of the greatest advantage to me, for, being well acquainted with books as well as with nature, he was well fitted to give me advice. it was summer, and the heat was so great that the windows were all open. the light of the candles attracted many insects, among which was observed a large species of scarabæus. i caught one, and, aware of his inclination to believe only what he should himself see, i showed him the insect, and assured him it was so strong that it would crawl on the table with the candlestick on its back. "i should like to see the experiment made, mr. audubon," he replied. it was accordingly made, and the insect moved about, dragging its burden so as to make the candlestick change its position as if by magic, until coming upon the edge of the table, it dropped on the floor, took to wing, and made its escape. when it waxed late, i showed him to the apartment intended for him during his stay, and endeavored to render him comfortable, leaving him writing materials in abundance. i was indeed heartily glad to have a naturalist under my roof. we had all retired to rest. every person i imagined was in deep slumber save myself, when of a sudden i heard a great uproar in the naturalist's room. i got up, reached the place in a few moments, and opened the door, when to my astonishment, i saw my guest running about the room naked, holding the handle of my favorite violin, the body of which he had battered to pieces against the walls in attempting to kill the bats which had entered by the open window, probably attracted by the insects flying around his candle. i stood amazed, but he continued jumping and running round and round, until he was fairly exhausted, when he begged me to procure one of the animals for him, as he felt convinced they belonged to "a new species." although i was convinced of the contrary, i took up the bow of my demolished cremona, and administering a smart tap to each of the bats as it came up, soon got specimens enough. the war ended, i again bade him good-night, but could not help observing the state of the room. it was strewed with plants, which it would seem he had arranged into groups, but which were now scattered about in confusion. "never mind, mr. audubon," quoth the eccentric naturalist, "never mind, i'll soon arrange them again. i have the bats, and that's enough." some days passed, during which we followed our several occupations. m. de t. searched the woods for plants, and i for birds. he also followed the margins of the ohio, and picked up many shells, which he greatly extolled. with us, i told him, they were gathered into heaps to be converted into lime. "lime! mr. audubon; why, they are worth a guinea apiece in any part of europe." one day, as i was returning from a hunt in a cane-brake, he observed that i was wet and spattered with mud, and desired me to show him the interior of one of these places, which he said he had never visited. the cane, kind reader, formerly grew spontaneously over the greater portions of the state of kentucky and other western districts of our union, as well as in many farther south. now, however, cultivation, the introduction of cattle and horses, and other circumstances connected with the progress of civilization, have greatly altered the face of the country, and reduced the cane within comparatively small limits. it attains a height of from twelve to thirty feet, and a diameter of from one to two inches, and grows in great patches resembling osier-holts, in which occur plants of all sizes. the plants frequently grow so close together, and in course of time become so tangled, as to present an almost impenetrable thicket. a portion of ground thus covered with canes is called a _cane-brake_. if you picture to yourself one of these cane-brakes growing beneath the gigantic trees that form our western forests, interspersed with vines of many species, and numberless plants of every description, you may conceive how difficult it is for one to make his way through it, especially after a heavy shower of rain or a fall of sleet, when the traveller, in forcing his way through, shakes down upon himself such quantities of water as soon reduce him to a state of the utmost discomfort. the hunters often cut little paths through the thickets with their knives, but the usual mode of passing through them is by pushing one's self backward, and wedging a way between the stems. to follow a bear or a cougar pursued by dogs through these brakes is a task the accomplishment of which may be imagined, but of the difficulties and dangers accompanying which i cannot easily give an adequate representation. the canes generally grow on the richest soil, and are particularly plentiful along the margins of the great western rivers. many of our new settlers are fond of forming farms in their immediate vicinity, as the plant is much relished by all kinds of cattle and horses, which feed upon it at all seasons, and again because these brakes are plentifully stocked with game of various kinds. it sometimes happens that the farmer clears a portion of the brake. this is done by cutting the stems--which are fistular and knotted, like those of other grasses--with a large knife or cutlass. they are afterwards placed in heaps, and when partially dried set fire to. the moisture contained between the joints is converted into steam, which causes the cane to burst with a smart report, and when a whole mass is crackling, the sounds resemble discharges of musketry. indeed, i have been told that travellers floating down the rivers, and unacquainted with these circumstances, have been induced to pull their oars with redoubled vigor, apprehending the attack of a host of savages, ready to scalp every one of the party. a day being fixed, we left home after an early breakfast, crossed the ohio, and entered the woods. i had determined that my companion should view a cane-brake in all its perfection, and after leading him several miles in a direct course, came upon as fine a sample as existed in that part of the country. we entered, and for some time proceeded without much difficulty, as i led the way, and cut down the canes which were most likely to incommode him. the difficulties gradually increased, so that we were presently obliged to turn our backs to the foe, and push ourselves on the best way we could. my companion stopped here and there to pick up a plant and examine it. after a while we chanced to come upon the top of a fallen tree, which so obstructed our passage that we were on the eve of going round, instead of thrusting ourselves through amongst the branches, when, from its bed in the centre of the tangled mass, forth rushed a bear, with such force, and snuffing the air in so frightful a manner, that m. de t. became suddenly terror-struck, and, in his haste to escape, made a desperate attempt to run, but fell amongst the canes in such a way that he looked as if pinioned. perceiving him jammed in between the stalks, and thoroughly frightened, i could not refrain from laughing at the ridiculous exhibition which he made. my gayety, however, was not very pleasing to the _savant_, who called out for aid, which was at once administered. gladly would he have retraced his steps, but i was desirous that he should be able to describe a cane-brake, and enticed him to follow me by telling him that our worst difficulties were nearly over. we proceeded, for by this time the bear was out of hearing. the way became more and more tangled. i saw with delight that a heavy cloud, portentous of a thunder gust, was approaching. in the mean time, i kept my companion in such constant difficulties that he now panted, perspired, and seemed almost overcome by fatigue. the thunder began to rumble, and soon after a dash of heavy rain drenched us in a few minutes. the withered particles of leaves and bark attached to the canes stuck to our clothes. we received many scratches from briers, and now and then a switch from a nettle. m. de t. seriously inquired if we should ever get alive out of the horrible situation in which we were. i spoke of courage and patience, and told him i hoped we should soon get to the margin of the brake, which, however, i knew to be two miles distant. i made him rest, and gave him a mouthful of brandy from my flask; after which, we proceeded on our slow and painful march. he threw away all his plants, emptied his pockets of the fungi, lichens, and mosses which he had thrust into them, and finding himself much lightened, went on for thirty or forty yards with a better grace. but, kind reader, enough--i led the naturalist first one way, then another, until i had nearly lost myself in the brake, although i was well acquainted with it, kept him tumbling and crawling on his hands and knees until long after mid-day, when we at length reached the edge of the river. i blew my horn, and soon showed my companion a boat coming to our rescue. we were ferried over, and on reaching the house, found more agreeable occupation in replenishing our empty coffers. m. de t. remained with us for three weeks, and collected multitudes of plants, shells, bats, and fishes, but never again expressed a desire of visiting a cane-brake. we were perfectly reconciled to his oddities, and, finding him a most agreeable and intelligent companion, hoped that his sojourn might be of long duration. but, one evening when tea was prepared, and we expected him to join the family, he was nowhere to be found. his grasses and other valuables were all removed from his room. the night was spent in searching for him in the neighborhood. no eccentric naturalist could be discovered. whether he had perished in a swamp, or had been devoured by a bear or a gar-fish, or had taken to his heels, were matters of conjecture; nor was it until some weeks after that a letter from him, thanking us for our attention, assured me of his safety. scipio and the bear the black bear (_ursus americanus_), however clumsy in appearance, is active, vigilant, and persevering; possesses great strength, courage, and address; and undergoes with little injury the greatest fatigues and hardships in avoiding the pursuit of the hunter. like the deer, it changes its haunts with the seasons, and for the same reason, namely, the desire of obtaining suitable food, or of retiring to the more inaccessible parts, where it can pass the time in security, unobserved by man, the most dangerous of its enemies. during the spring months, it searches for food in the low rich alluvial lands that border the rivers, or by the margins of such inland lakes as, on account of their small size, are called by us ponds. there it procures abundance of succulent roots, and of the tender juicy stems of plants, upon which it chiefly feeds at that season. during the summer heat, it enters the gloomy swamps, passes much of its time in wallowing in the mud, like a hog, and contents itself with crayfish, roots, and nettles, now and then, when hard pressed by hunger, seizing on a young pig, or perhaps a sow, or even a calf. as soon as the different kinds of berries which grow on the mountains begin to ripen, the bears betake themselves to the high grounds, followed by their cubs. in such retired parts of the country where there are no hilly grounds, it pays visits to the maize fields, which it ravages for a while. after this, the various species of nuts, acorns, grapes, and other forest fruits, that form what in the western country is called _mast_, attract its attention. the bear is then seen rambling singly through the woods to gather this harvest, not forgetting meanwhile to rob every _bee-tree_ it meets with, bears being, as you well know, expert at this operation. you also know that they are good climbers, and may have been told, or at least may now be told, that the black bear now and then _houses_ itself in the hollow trunks of the larger trees for weeks together, when it is said to suck its paws. you are probably not aware of a habit in which it indulges, and which, being curious, must be interesting to you. at one season, the black bear may be seen examining the lower part of the trunk of a tree for several minutes with much attention, at the same time looking around, and snuffing the air, to assure itself that no enemy is near. it then raises itself on its hind-legs, approaches the trunk, embraces it with its fore-legs, and scratches the bark with its teeth and claws for several minutes in continuance. its jaws clash against each other, until a mass of foam runs down on both sides of the mouth. after this it continues its rambles. in various portions of our country, many of our woodsmen and hunters who have seen the bear performing the singular operation just described, imagine that it does so for the purpose of leaving behind it an indication of its size and power. they measure the height at which the scratches are made, and in this manner can, in fact, form an estimate of the magnitude of the individual. my own opinion, however, is different. it seems to me that the bear scratches the trees, not for the purpose of shewing its size or its strength, but merely for that of sharpening its teeth and claws, to enable it better to encounter a rival of its own species during the amatory season. the wild boar of europe clashes its tusks and scrapes the earth with its feet, and the deer rubs its antlers against the lower part of the stems of young trees or bushes, for the same purpose. being one night sleeping in the house of a friend, i was wakened by a negro servant bearing a light, who gave me a note, which he said his master had just received. i ran my eye over the paper, and found it to be a communication from a neighbor, requesting my friend and myself to join him as soon as possible, and assist in killing some bears at that moment engaged in destroying his corn. i was not long in dressing, you may be assured, and, on entering the parlor, found my friend equipped and only waiting for some bullets, which a negro was employed in casting. the overseer's horn was heard calling up the negroes from their different cabins. some were already engaged in saddling our horses, whilst others were gathering all the cur-dogs of the plantation. all was bustle. before half an hour had elapsed, four stout negro men, armed with axes and knives, and mounted on strong nags of their own (for you must know, kind reader, that many of our slaves rear horses, cattle, pigs, and poultry, which are exclusively their own property), were following us at a round gallop through the woods, as we made directly for the neighbor's plantation, a little more than five miles off. the night was none of the most favorable, a drizzling rain rendering the atmosphere thick and rather sultry; but as we were well acquainted with the course, we soon reached the house, where the owner was waiting our arrival. there were now three of us armed with guns, half a dozen servants, and a good pack of dogs of all kinds. we jogged on towards the detached field in which the bears were at work. the owner told us that for some days several of these animals had visited his corn, and that a negro who was sent every afternoon to see at what part of the enclosure they entered, had assured him there were at least five in the field that night. a plan of attack was formed: the bars at the usual gap of the fence were to be put down without noise; the men and dogs were to divide, and afterwards proceed so as to surround the bears, when, at the sounding of our horns, every one was to charge towards the centre of the field, and shout as loudly as possible, which it was judged would so intimidate the animals as to induce them to seek refuge upon the dead trees with which the field was still partially covered. the plan succeeded. the horns sounded, the horses galloped forward, the men shouted, the dogs barked and howled. the shrieks of the negroes were enough to frighten a legion of bears, and those in the field took to flight, so that by the time we reached the centre they were heard hurrying towards the tops of the trees. fires were immediately lighted by the negroes. the drizzling rain had ceased, the sky cleared, and the glare of the crackling fires proved of great assistance to us. the bears had been so terrified that we now saw several of them crouched at the junction of the larger boughs with the trunks. two were immediately shot down. they were cubs of no great size, and being already half dead, we left them to the dogs, which quickly despatched them. we were anxious to procure as much sport as possible, and having observed one of the bears, which from its size we conjectured to be the mother, ordered the negroes to cut down the tree on which it was perched, when it was intended the dogs should have a tug with it, while we should support them, and assist in preventing the bear from escaping by wounding it in one of the hind-legs. the surrounding woods now echoed to the blows of the axemen. the tree was large and tough, having been girded more than two years, and the operation of felling it seemed extremely tedious. however, it began to vibrate at each stroke; a few inches alone now supported it; and in a short time it came crashing to the ground, in so awful a manner that bruin must doubtless have felt the shock as severe as we should feel a shake of the globe produced by the sudden collision of a comet. the dogs rushed to the charge, and harassed the bear on all sides. we had remounted, and now surrounded the poor animal. as its life depended upon its courage and strength, it exercised both in the most energetic manner. now and then it seized a dog, and killed him by a single stroke. at another time, a well administered blow of one of its fore-legs sent an assailant off yelping so piteously that he might be looked upon as _hors de combat_. a cur had daringly ventured to seize the bear by the snout, and was seen hanging to it, covered with blood, whilst a dozen or more scrambled over its back. now and then the infuriated animal was seen to cast a revengeful glance at some of the party, and we had already determined to despatch it, when, to our astonishment, it suddenly shook off all the dogs, and, before we could fire, charged upon one of the negroes, who was mounted on a pied horse. the bear seized the steed with teeth and claws, and clung to its breast. the terrified horse snorted and plunged. the rider, an athletic young man, and a capital horseman, kept his seat, although only saddled on a sheep's-skin tightly girthed, and requested his master not to fire at the bear. notwithstanding his coolness and courage, our anxiety for his safety was raised to the highest pitch, especially when in a moment we saw rider and horse come to the ground together; but we were instantly relieved on witnessing the masterly manner in which scipio despatched his adversary, by laying open his skull with a single well-directed blow of his axe, when a deep growl announced the death of the bear, and the valorous negro sprung to his feet unhurt. day dawned, and we renewed our search. two of the remaining bears were soon discovered, lodged in a tree about a hundred yards from the spot where the last one had been overpowered. on approaching them in a circle, we found that they manifested no desire to come down, and we resolved to try _smoking_. we surrounded the tree with a pile of brushwood and large branches. the flames ascended and caught hold of the dry bark. at length the tree assumed the appearance of a pillar of flame. the bears mounted to the top branches. when they had reached the uppermost, they were seen to totter, and soon after, the branch cracking and snapping across, they came to the ground, bringing with them a mass of broken twigs. they were cubs, and the dogs soon worried them to death. the party returned to the house in triumph. scipio's horse, being severely wounded, was let loose in the field, to repair his strength by eating the corn. a cart was afterwards sent for the game. but before we had left the field, the horses, dogs, and bears, together with the fires, had destroyed more corn within a few hours than the poor bear and her cubs had during the whole of their visits. a kentucky barbecue beargrass creek, which is one of the many beautiful streams of the highly cultivated and happy state of kentucky, meanders through a deeply shaded growth of majestic beechwoods, in which are interspersed various species of walnut, oak, elm, ash, and other trees, extending on either side of its course. the spot on which i witnessed the celebration of an anniversary of the glorious proclamation of our independence is situated on its banks near the city of louisville. the woods spread their dense tufts towards the shores of the fair ohio on the west, and over the gently rising grounds to the south and east. every open spot forming a plantation was smiling in the luxuriance of a summer harvest. the farmer seemed to stand in admiration of the spectacle; the trees of his orchards bowed their branches, as if anxious to restore to their mother earth the fruit with which they were laden; the flocks leisurely ruminated as they lay on their grassy beds; and the genial warmth of the season seemed inclined to favor their repose. [illustration: john woodhouse audubon, .] the free, single-hearted kentuckian, bold, erect, and proud of his virginian descent, had, as usual, made arrangements for celebrating the day of his country's independence. the whole neighborhood joined with one consent. no personal invitation was required where every one was welcomed by his neighbor, and from the governor to the guider of the plough, all met with light hearts and merry faces. it was indeed a beautiful day; the bright sun rode in the clear blue heavens; the gentle breezes wafted around the odors of the gorgeous flowers; the little birds sang their sweetest songs in the woods, and the fluttering insects danced in the sunbeams. columbia's sons and daughters seemed to have grown younger that morning. for a whole week or more many servants and some masters had been busily engaged in clearing an area. the undergrowth had been carefully cut down, the low boughs lopped off, and the grass alone, verdant and gay, remained to carpet the sylvan pavilion. now the wagons were seen slowly moving along under their load of provisions which had been prepared for the common benefit. each denizen had freely given his ox, his ham, his venison, his turkeys and other fowls. here were to be seen flagons of every beverage used in the country; "la belle rivière" had opened her finny stores, the melons of all sorts, peaches, plums, and pears, would have sufficed to stock a market. in a word, kentucky, the land of abundance, had supplied a feast for her children. a purling stream gave its waters freely, while the grateful breezes cooled the air. columns of smoke from the newly kindled fires rose above the trees; fifty cooks or more moved to and fro as they plied their trade; waiters of all qualities were disposing the dishes, the glasses and the punch-bowls, amid vases filled with rich wines. "old monongahela" filled many a barrel for the crowd. and now the roasting viands perfume the air, and all appearances conspire to predict the speedy commencement of a banquet such as may suit the vigorous appetite of american woodsmen. every steward is at his post ready to receive the joyous groups that at this moment begin to emerge from the dark recesses of the woods. each comely fair one, clad in pure white, is seen advancing under the protection of her sturdy lover, the neighing of their prancing steeds proclaiming how proud they are of their burden. the youthful riders leap from their seats, and the horses are speedily secured by twisting their bridles round a branch. as the youth of kentucky lightly and gayly advanced towards the barbecue, they resembled a procession of nymphs and disguised divinities. fathers and mothers smiled upon them as they followed the brilliant cortége. in a short time the ground was alive with merriment. a great wooden cannon bound with iron hoops was now crammed with home-made powder; fire was conveyed to it by means of a train, and as the explosion burst forth, thousands of hearty huzzas mingled with its echoes. from the most learned a good oration fell in proud and gladdening words on every ear, and although it probably did not equal the eloquence of a clay, an everett, a webster, or a preston, it served to remind every kentuckian present of the glorious name, the patriotism, the courage, and the virtue of our immortal washington. fifes and drums sounded the march which had ever led him to glory; and as they changed to our celebrated "yankee-doodle," the air again rang with acclamations. now the stewards invited the assembled throngs to the feast. the fair led the van, and were first placed around the tables, which groaned under the profusion of the best productions of the country that had been heaped upon them. on each lovely nymph attended her gay beau, who in her chance or sidelong glances ever watched an opportunity of reading his happiness. how the viands diminished under the action of so many agents of destruction, i need not say, nor is it necessary that you should listen to the long recital. many a national toast was offered and accepted, many speeches were delivered, and many essayed in amicable reply. the ladies then retired to booths that had been erected at a little distance, to which they were conducted by their partners, who returned to the table, and having thus cleared for action, recommenced a series of hearty rounds. however, as kentuckians are neither slow nor long at their meals, all were in a few minutes replenished, and after a few more draughts from the bowl, they rejoined the ladies and prepared for the dance. double lines of a hundred fair ones extended along the ground in the most shady part of the woods, while here and there smaller groups awaited the merry trills of reels and cotillons. a burst of music from violins, clarionets, and bugles gave the welcome notice, and presently the whole assemblage seemed to be gracefully moving through the air. the "hunting-shirts" now joined in the dance, their fringed skirts keeping time with the gowns of the ladies, and the married people of either sex stepped in and mixed with their children. every countenance beamed with joy, every heart leaped with gladness; no pride, no pomp, no affectation were there; their spirits brightened as they continued their exhilarating exercise, and care and sorrow were flung to the winds. during each interval of rest refreshments of all sorts were handed round, and while the fair one cooled her lips with the grateful juice of the melon, the hunter of kentucky quenched his thirst with ample draughts of well-tempered punch. i know, reader, that had you been with me on that day you would have richly enjoyed the sight of this national _fête champêtre_. you would have listened with pleasure to the ingenuous tale of the lover, the wise talk of the elder on the affairs of the state, the accounts of improvement in stock and utensils, and the hopes of continued prosperity to the country at large, and to kentucky in particular. you would have been pleased to see those who did not join in the dance shooting at distant marks with their heavy rifles, or watched how they showed off the superior speed of their high bred "old virginia" horses, while others recounted their hunting exploits, and at intervals made the woods ring with their bursts of laughter. with me the time sped like an arrow in its flight, and although more than twenty years have elapsed since i joined a kentucky barbecue, my spirit is refreshed every fourth of july by the recollection of that day's merriment. but now the sun has declined, and the shades of evening creep over the scene. large fires are lighted in the woods, casting the long shadows of the live columns far along the trodden ground, and flaring on the happy groups loath to separate. in the still, clear sky, begin to sparkle the distant lamps of heaven. one might have thought that nature herself smiled on the joy of her children. supper now appeared on the tables, and after all had again refreshed themselves, preparations were made for departure. the lover hurried for the steed of his fair one, the hunter seized the arm of his friend, families gathered into loving groups, and all returned in peace to their happy homes. and now, reader, allow me also to take my leave, and wish you good-night, trusting that when i again appear with another volume,[ ] you will be ready to welcome me with a cordial greeting. a raccoon hunt in kentucky the raccoon, which is a cunning and crafty animal, is found in all our woods, so that its name is familiar to every child in the union. the propensity which it evinces to capture all kinds of birds accessible to it in its nightly prowlings, for the purpose of feasting on their flesh, induces me to endeavor to afford you some idea of the pleasure which our western hunters feel in procuring it. with your leave, then, reader, i will take you to a "coon hunt." a few hours ago the sun went down far beyond the "far west." the woodland choristers have disappeared, the matron has cradled her babe, and betaken herself to the spinning-wheel; the woodsman, his sons, and "the stranger," are chatting before a blazing fire, making wise reflections on past events, and anticipating those that are to come. autumn, sallow and sad, prepares to bow her head to the keen blast of approaching winter; the corn, though still on its stalk, has lost its blades; the wood-pile is as large as the woodsman's cabin; the nights have become chill, and each new morn has effected a gradual change in the dews, which now crust the withered herbage with a coat of glittering white. the sky is still cloudless; a thousand twinkling stars reflect their light from the tranquil waters; all is silent and calm in the forest, save the nightly prowlers that roam in its recesses. in the cheerful cabin all is happiness; its inmates generously strive to contribute to the comfort of the stranger who has chanced to visit them; and, as raccoons are abundant in the neighborhood, they propose a hunt. the offer is gladly accepted. the industrious woman leaves her wheel, for she has listened to her husband's talk; now she approaches the fire, takes up the board shovel, stirs the embers, produces a basket filled with sweet potatoes, arranges its contents side by side in front of the hearth, and covers them with hot ashes and glowing coals. all this she does because she "guesses" that hungry stomachs will be calling for food when the sport is over. ah! reader, what "homely joys" there are in such scenes, and how you would enjoy them! the rich may produce a better, or a more sumptuous meal, but his feelings can never be like those of the poor woodsman. poor, i ought not to call him, for nature and industry bountifully supply all his wants; the woods and rivers produce his chief dainties, and his toils are his pleasures. now mark him! the bold kentuckian is on his feet; his sons and the stranger prepare for the march. horns and rifles are in requisition. the good man opens the wooden-hinged door, and sends forth a blast loud enough to scare a wolf. the raccoons scamper away from the corn-fields, break through the fences, and hie to the woods. the hunter has taken an axe from the wood-pile, and returning, assures us that the night is fine, and that we shall have rare sport. he blows through his rifle to ascertain that it is clear, examines his flint, and thrusts a feather into the touch-hole. to a leathern bag swung at his side is attached a powder-horn; his sheath-knife is there also; below hangs a narrow strip of homespun linen. he takes from his bag a bullet, pulls with his teeth the wooden stopper from his powder-horn, lays the ball on one hand, and with the other pours the powder upon it until it is just overtopped. raising the horn to his mouth, he again closes it with the stopper, and restores it to its place. he introduces the powder into the tube; springs the box of his gun, greases the "patch" over with some melted tallow, or damps it; then places it on the honey-combed muzzle of his piece. the bullet is placed on the patch over the bore, and pressed with the handle of the knife, which now trims the edge of the linen. the elastic hickory rod, held with both hands, smoothly pushes the ball to its bed; once, twice, thrice has it rebounded. the rifle leaps as it were into the hunter's arms, the feather is drawn from the touch-hole, the powder fills the pan, which is closed. "now i'm ready," cries the woodsman. his companions say the same. hardly more than a minute has elapsed. i wish, reader, you had seen this fine fellow--but hark! the dogs are barking. all is now bustle within and without; a servant lights a torch, and off we march to the woods. "don't mind the boys, my dear sir," says the woodsman, "follow me close, for the ground is covered with logs, and the grape-vines hang everywhere across. toby, hold up the light, man, or we'll never see the gullies. trail your gun, sir, as general clark used to say--not so, but this way--that's it; now then, no danger, you see; no fear of snakes, poor things! they are stiff enough, i'll be bound. the dogs have treed one. toby, you old fool, why don't you turn to the right?--not so much; there--go ahead, and give us light. what's that? who's there? ah, you young rascals! you've played us a trick, have you? it's all well enough, but now just keep behind, or i'll--" and, in fact, the boys, with eyes good enough to see in the dark, although not quite so well as an owl's, had cut directly across the dogs, which had surprised a raccoon on the ground, and bayed it until the lads knocked it on the head. "seek him, boys!" cried the hunter. the dogs, putting their noses to the ground, pushed off at a good rate. "master, they're making for the creek," says old toby. on towards it therefore we push. what woods, to be sure! no gentleman's park this, i assure you, reader. we are now in a low flat; the soil thinly covers the hard clay; nothing but beech-trees hereabouts, unless now and then a maple. hang the limbs! say i--hang the supple-jacks too--here i am, fast by the neck; cut it with your knife. my knee has had a tremendous rub against a log; now my foot is jammed between two roots; and here i stick. "toby, come back; don't you know the stranger is not up to the woods? halloo, toby, toby!" there i stood perfectly shackled, the hunter laughing heartily, and the lads glad of an opportunity of slipping off. toby arrived, and held the torch near the ground, on which the hunter, cutting one of the roots with his hatchet, set me free. "are you hurt, sir?"--"no, not in the least." off we start again. the boys had got up with the dogs, which were baying a raccoon in a small puddle. we soon joined them with the light. "now, stranger, watch and see!" the raccoon was all but swimming, and yet had hold of the bottom of the pool with his feet. the glare of the lighted torch was doubtless distressing to him; his coat was ruffled, and his rounded tail seemed thrice its ordinary size; his eyes shone like emeralds; with foaming jaws he watched the dogs, ready to seize each by the snout if it came within reach. they kept him busy for several minutes; the water became thick with mud; his coat now hung dripping, and his draggled tail lay floating on the surface. his guttural growlings, in place of intimidating his assailants excited them the more; and they very unceremoniously closed upon him, curs as they were, and without the breeding of gentle dogs. one seized him by the rump, and tugged, but was soon forced to let go; another stuck to his side, but soon taking a better directed bite of his muzzle than another dog had just done of his tail, coon made him yelp; and pitiful were the cries of luckless tyke. the raccoon would not let go, but in the mean time the other dogs seized him fast, and worried him to death, yet to the last he held by his antagonist's snout. knocked on the head by an axe, he lay gasping his last breath, and the heaving of his chest was painful to see. the hunters stood gazing at him in the pool, while all around was by the flare of the torch rendered trebly dark and dismal. it was a good scene for a skilful painter. we had now two coons, whose furs were worth two quarters of a dollar, and whose bodies, which i must not forget, as toby informed us, were worth two more. "what now?" i asked. "what now?" quoth the father; "why, go after more, to be sure." so we did, the dogs ahead, and i far behind. in a short time the curs treed another, and when we came up, we found them seated on their haunches, looking upwards, and barking. the hunters now employed their axes, and sent the chips about at such a rate that one of them coming in contact with my cheek, marked it so that a week after several of my friends asked me where, in the name of wonder, i had got that black eye. at length the tree began to crack, and slowly leaning to one side, the heavy mass swung rustling through the air, and fell to the earth with a crash. it was not one coon that was surprised here, but three--ay, three of them, one of which, more crafty than the rest, leaped fairly from the main top while the tree was staggering. the other two stuck to the hollow of a branch, from which they were soon driven by one of the dogs. tyke and lion, having nosed the cunning old one, scampered after him, not mouthing like the well-trained hounds of our southern fox-hunters, but yelling like furies. the hunter's sons attacked those on the tree, while the woodsman and i, preceded by toby, made after the other; and busy enough we all were. our animal was of extraordinary size, and after some parley, a rifle-ball was sent through his brain. he reeled once only; next moment he lay dead. the rest were despatched by the axe and the club, for a shot in those days was too valuable to be spent when it could be saved. it could procure a deer, and therefore was worth more than a coon's skin. now, look at the moon! how full and clear has she risen on the raccoon hunters! now is the time for sport! onward we go, one following the long shadow of his precursor. the twigs are no impediment, and we move at a brisker pace, as we return to the hills. what a hue and cry! here are the dogs. overhead and all around, on the forks of each tree, the hunter's keen eye searches for something round, which is likely to prove a coiled-up raccoon. there's one! between me and the moon i spied the cunning thing crouched in silence. after taking aim, i raise my barrel ever so little, the trigger is pressed; down falls the raccoon to the ground. another and another are on the same tree. off goes a bullet, then a second; and we secure the prey. "let us go home, stranger," says the woodsman; and contented with our sport, towards his cabin we trudge. on arriving there, we find a cheerful fire. toby stays without, prepares the game, stretches the skins on a frame of cane, and washes the bodies. the table is already set; the cake and the potatoes are all well done; four bowls of buttermilk are ranged in order, and now the hunters fall to. the raccoon is a cunning animal, and makes a pleasant pet. monkey-like, it is quite dexterous in the use of its fore-feet, and it will amble after its master, in the manner of a bear, and even follow him into the street. it is fond of eggs, but prefers them raw, and it matters not whether it be morning, noon, or night when it finds a dozen in the pheasant's nest, or one placed in your pocket to please him. he knows the habits of mussels better than most conchologists. being an expert climber he ascends to the hole of the woodpecker, and devours the young birds. he knows, too, how to watch the soft-shelled turtle's crawl, and, better still, how to dig up her eggs. now, by the edge of the pond, grimalkin-like, he lies seemingly asleep, until the summer-duck comes within reach. no negro knows better when the corn is juicy and pleasant to eat; and although squirrels and woodpeckers know this too, the raccoon is found in the corn-field longer in the season than any of them, the havoc he commits there amounting to a tithe. his fur is good in winter, and many think his flesh good also; but for my part, i prefer a live raccoon to a dead one; and should find more pleasure in hunting one than in eating him. pitting of wolves there seems to be a universal feeling of hostility among men against the wolf, whose strength, agility, and cunning, which latter is scarcely inferior to that of his relative, master reynard, tend to render him an object of hatred, especially to the husbandman, on whose flocks he is ever apt to commit depredations. in america, where this animal was formerly abundant, and in many parts of which it still occurs in considerable numbers, it is not more mercifully dealt with than in other parts of the world. traps and snares of all sorts are set for catching it, while dogs and horses are trained for hunting the fox. the wolf, however, unless in some way injured, being more powerful and perhaps better winded than the fox, is rarely pursued with hounds or any other dogs in open chase; but as his depredations are at times extensive and highly injurious to the farmer, the greatest exertions have been used to exterminate his race. few instances have occurred among us of any attack made by wolves on man, and only one has come under my own notice. two young negroes who resided near the banks of the ohio, in the lower part of the state of kentucky, about twenty-three years ago, had sweethearts living on a plantation ten miles distant. after the labors of the day were over, they frequently visited the fair ladies of their choice, the nearest way to whose dwelling lay directly across a great cane-brake. as to the lover every moment is precious, they usually took this route to save time. winter had commenced, cold, dark, and forbidding, and after sunset scarcely a glimpse of light or glow of warmth, one might imagine, could be found in that dreary swamp, excepting in the eyes and bosoms of the ardent youths, or the hungry wolves that prowled about. the snow covered the earth, and rendered them more easy to be scented from a distance by the famished beasts. prudent in a certain degree, the young lovers carried their axes on their shoulders, and walked as briskly as the narrow path would allow. some transient glimpses of light now and then met their eyes, but so faint were they that they believed them to be caused by their faces coming in contact with the slender reeds covered with snow. suddenly, however, a long and frightful howl burst upon them, and they instantly knew that it proceeded from a troop of hungry, perhaps desperate wolves. they stopped, and putting themselves in an attitude of defence, awaited the result. all around was dark, save a few feet of snow, and the silence of night was dismal. nothing could be done to better their situation, and after standing a few minutes in expectation of an attack, they judged it best to resume their march; but no sooner had they replaced their axes on their shoulders and begun to move, than the foremost found himself assailed by several foes. his legs were held fast as if pressed by a powerful screw, and the torture inflicted by the fangs of the ravenous animal was for a moment excruciating. several wolves in the meantime sprung upon the breast of the other negro, and dragged him to the ground. both struggled manfully against their foes; but in a short time one of them ceased to move, and the other, reduced in strength, and perhaps despairing of maintaining his ground, still more of aiding his unfortunate companion, sprung to the branch of a tree, and speedily gained a place of safety near the top. the next morning the mangled remains of his comrade lay scattered around on the snow, which was stained with blood. three dead wolves lay around, but the rest of the pack had disappeared, and scipio, sliding to the ground, took up the axes, and made the best of his way home, to relate the sad adventure. about two years after this occurrence, as i was travelling between henderson and vincennes, i chanced to stop for the night at a farmer's house by the side of the road. after putting up my horse and refreshing myself, i entered into conversation with mine host, who asked if i should like to pay a visit to the wolf-pits, which were about half a mile distant. glad of the opportunity i accompanied him across the fields to the neighborhood of a deep wood, and soon saw the engines of destruction. he had three pits, within a few hundred yards of each other. they were about eight feet deep and broader at bottom, so as to render it impossible for the most active animal to escape from them. the aperture was covered with a revolving platform of twigs attached to a central axis. on either surface of the platform was fastened a large piece of putrid venison, with other matters by no means pleasing to my olfactory nerves, although no doubt attractive to the wolves. my companion wished to visit them that evening, merely as he was in the habit of doing so daily, for the purpose of seeing that all was right. he said that wolves were very abundant that autumn, and had killed nearly the whole of his sheep and one of his colts, but that he was now "paying them off in full;" and added that if i would tarry a few hours with him next morning, he would beyond a doubt show me some sport rarely seen in those parts. we retired to rest in due time, and were up with the dawn. "i think," said my host, "that all's right, for i see the dogs are anxious to get away to the pits, and although they are nothing but curs, their noses are none the worse for that." as he took up his gun, an axe, and a large knife, the dogs began to howl and bark, and whisked around us, as if full of joy. when we reached the first pit, we found the bait all gone, and the platform much injured; but the animal that had been entrapped had scraped a subterranean passage for himself, and so escaped. on peeping into the next, he assured me that "three famous fellows were safe enough" in it. i also peeped in and saw the wolves, two black, and the other brindled, all of goodly size, sure enough. they lay flat on the earth, their ears laid close over the head, their eyes indicating fear more than anger. "but how are we to get them out?" "how, sir?" said the farmer; "why, by going down, to be sure, and hamstringing them." being a novice in these matters, i begged to be merely a looker-on. "with all my heart," quoth the farmer; "stand here and look at me through the brush." whereupon he glided down, taking with him his axe and knife, and leaving his rifle to my care. i was not a little surprised to see the cowardice of the wolves. he pulled out successively their hind legs, and with a side stroke of the knife cut the principal tendon above the joint, exhibiting as little fear as if he had been marking lambs. "lo!" exclaimed the farmer, when he had got out, "we have forgotten the rope; i'll go after it." off he went accordingly, with as much alacrity as any youngster could show. in a short time he returned out of breath, and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand--"now for it." i was desired to raise and hold the platform on its central balance, whilst he, with all the dexterity of an indian, threw a noose over the neck of one of the wolves. we hauled it up motionless with fright, as if dead, its disabled legs swinging to and fro, its jaws wide open, and the gurgle in its throat alone indicating that it was alive. letting him drop on the ground, the farmer loosened the rope by means of a stick, and left him to the dogs, all of which set upon him with great fury and soon worried him to death. the second was dealt with in the same manner; but the third, which was probably the oldest, as it was the blackest, showed some spirit the moment it was left loose to the mercy of the curs. this wolf, which we afterwards found to be a female, scuffled along on its fore-legs at a surprising rate, giving a snap every now and then to the nearest dog, which went off howling dismally, with a mouthful of skin torn from its side. and so well did the furious beast defend itself, that apprehensive of its escape, the farmer levelled his rifle at it, and shot it through the heart, on which the curs rushed upon it, and satiated their vengeance on the destroyer of their master's flock. the opossum this singular animal is found more or less abundant in most parts of the southern, western, and middle states of the union. it is the _didelphis virginiana_ of pennant, harlan, and other authors who have given some accounts of its habits; but as none of them, so far as i know, have illustrated its propensity to dissimulate, and as i have had opportunities of observing its manners, i trust that a few particulars of its biography will prove amusing. the opossum is fond of secluding itself during the day, although it by no means confines its predatory rangings to the night. like many other quadrupeds which feed principally on flesh, it is also both frugivorous and herbivorous, and, when very hard pressed by hunger, it seizes various kinds of insects and reptiles. its gait, while travelling, and at a time when it supposes itself unobserved, is altogether ambling; in other words, it, like a young foal, moves the two legs of one side forward at once. the newfoundland dog manifests a similar propensity. having a constitution as hardy as that of the most northern animals, it stands the coldest weather, and does not hibernate, although its covering of fur and hair may be said to be comparatively scanty even during winter. the defect, however, seems to be compensated by a skin of considerable thickness, and a general subcutaneous layer of fat. its movements are usually rather slow, and as it walks or ambles along, its curious prehensile tail is carried just above the ground, its rounded ears are directed forward, and at almost every step its pointed nose is applied to the objects beneath it, in order to discover what sort of creatures may have crossed its path. methinks i see one at this moment slowly and cautiously trudging over the melting snows by the side of an unfrequented pond, nosing as it goes for the fare its ravenous appetite prefers. now it has come upon the fresh track of a grouse or hare, and it raises its snout and snuffs the keen air. at length it has decided on its course, and it speeds onward at the rate of a man's ordinary walk. it stops and seems at a loss in what direction to go, for the object of its pursuit has either taken a considerable leap or has cut backwards before the opossum entered its track. it raises itself up, stands for a while on its hind feet, looks around, snuffs the air again, and then proceeds; but now, at the foot of a noble tree, it comes to a full stand. it walks round the base of the huge trunk, over the snow-covered roots, and among them finds an aperture which it at once enters. several minutes elapse, when it re-appears, dragging along a squirrel already deprived of life, with which in its mouth it begins to ascend the tree. slowly it climbs. the first fork does not seem to suit it, for perhaps it thinks it might there be too openly exposed to the view of some wily foe; and so it proceeds, until it gains a cluster of branches intertwined with grape-vines, and there composing itself, it twists its tail round one of the twigs, and with its sharp teeth demolishes the unlucky squirrel, which it holds all the while with its fore-paws. the pleasant days of spring have arrived, and the trees vigorously shoot forth their buds; but the opossum is almost bare, and seems nearly exhausted by hunger. it visits the margins of creeks, and is pleased to see the young frogs, which afford it a tolerable repast. gradually the poke-berry and the nettle shoot up, and on their tender and juicy stems it gladly feeds. the matin calls of the wild turkey cock delight the ear of the cunning creature, for it well knows that it will soon hear the female and trace her to her nest, when it will suck the eggs with delight. travelling through the woods, perhaps on the ground, perhaps aloft, from tree to tree, it hears a cock crow, and its heart swells as it remembers the savory food on which it regaled itself last summer in the neighboring farm-yard. with great care, however, it advances, and at last conceals itself in the very hen-house. honest farmer! why did you kill so many crows last winter? ay and ravens too? well, you have had your own way of it; but now hie to the village and procure a store of ammunition, clean your rusty gun, set your traps, and teach your lazy curs to watch the opossum. there it comes. the sun is scarcely down, but the appetite of the prowler is keen; hear the screams of one of your best chickens that has been seized by him! the cunning beast is off with it, and nothing can now be done, unless you stand there to watch the fox or the owl, now exulting in the thought that you have killed their enemy and your own friend, the poor crow. that precious hen under which you last week placed a dozen eggs or so is now deprived of them. the opossum, notwithstanding her angry outcries and rufflings of feathers, has removed them one by one, and now look at the poor bird as she moves across your yard; if not mad, she is at least stupid, for she scratches here and there, calling to her chickens all the while. all this comes from your shooting crows. had you been more merciful or more prudent, the opossum might have been kept within the woods, where it would have been satisfied with a squirrel, a young hare, the eggs of a turkey, or the grapes that so profusely adorn the boughs of our forest trees. but i talk to you in vain. there cannot be a better exemplification of maternal tenderness than the female opossum. just peep into that curious sack in which the young are concealed, each attached to a teat. the kind mother not only nourishes them with care, but preserves them from their enemies; she moves with them as the shark does with its progeny, and now, aloft on the tulip-tree, she hides among the thick foliage. by the end of two months they begin to shift for themselves; each has been taught its particular lesson, and must now practise it. but suppose the farmer has surprised an opossum in the act of killing one of his best fowls. his angry feelings urge him to kick the poor beast, which, conscious of its inability to resist, rolls off like a ball. the more the farmer rages, the more reluctant is the animal to manifest resentment; at last there it lies, not dead, but exhausted, its jaws open, its tongue extended, its eye dimmed; and there it would lie until the bottle-fly should come to deposit its eggs, did not its tormentor at length walk off. "surely," says he to himself, "the beast must be dead." but no, reader, it is only "'possuming," and no sooner has its enemy withdrawn than it gradually gets on its legs, and once more makes for the woods. once, while descending the mississippi, in a sluggish flat-bottomed boat, expressly for the purpose of studying those objects of nature more nearly connected with my favorite pursuits, i chanced to meet with two well-grown opossums, and brought them alive to the "ark." the poor things were placed on the roof or deck, and were immediately assailed by the crew, when, following their natural instinct, they lay as if quite dead. an experiment was suggested, and both were thrown overboard. on striking the water, and for a few moments after, neither evinced the least disposition to move; but finding their situation desperate, they began to swim towards our uncouth rudder, which was formed of a long slender tree, extending from the middle of the boat thirty feet beyond its stern. they both got upon it, were taken up, and afterwards let loose in their native woods. in the year , i was in a portion of lower louisiana, where the opossum abounds at all seasons, and having been asked by the president and the secretary of the zoölogical society of london, to forward live animals of this species to them, i offered a price a little above the common, and soon found myself plentifully supplied, twenty-five having been brought to me. i found them excessively voracious, and not less cowardly. they were put into a large box, with a great quantity of food, and conveyed to a steamer bound for new orleans. two days afterwards, i went to that city, to see about sending them off to europe; but, to my surprise, i found that the old males had destroyed the younger ones, and eaten off their heads, and that only sixteen remained alive. a separate box was purchased for each, and some time after they reached my friends, the rathbones of liverpool, who, with their usual attention, sent them off to london, where, on my return, i saw a good number of them in the zoölogical gardens. this animal is fond of grapes, of which a species now bears its name. persimmons are greedily eaten by it, and in severe weather i have observed it eating lichens. fowls of every kind, and quadrupeds less powerful than itself, are also its habitual prey. the flesh of the opossum resembles that of a young pig, and would perhaps be as highly prized, were it not for the prejudice generally entertained against it. some "very particular" persons, to my knowledge, have pronounced it excellent eating. after cleaning its body, suspend it for a whole week in the frosty air, for it is not eaten in summer; then place it on a heap of hot wood embers; sprinkle it when cooked with gunpowder; and now tell me, good reader, does it not equal the famed canvas-back duck? should you visit any of our markets, you may see it there in company with the best game. a maple-sugar camp while advancing the best way i could through the magnificent woods that cover the undulating grounds in the vicinity of the green river in kentucky, i was overtaken by night. with slow and cautious steps i proceeded, feeling some doubt as to my course, when the moon came forth, as if purposely to afford me her friendly light. the air i thought was uncommonly keen, and the gentle breeze that now and then shook the tops of the tall trees more than once made me think of halting for the night, and forming a camp. at times i thought of the campaigns of my old friend, daniel boone, his strange adventures in these very woods, and the extraordinary walk which he performed to save his fellow creatures at fort massacre from the scalping knives of the irritated indians.[ ] now and then a raccoon or opossum, causing the fallen leaves to rustle, made me pause for a moment; and thus i was forcing my way, thinking on many things dismal as well as pleasing, when the glimmer of a distant fire suddenly aroused me from my reveries, and inspired me with fresh animation. as i approached it, i observed forms of different kinds moving to and fro before it, like spectres; and ere long, bursts of laughter, shouts, and songs apprised me of some merry-making. i thought at first i had probably stumbled upon a camp meeting; but i soon perceived that the mirth proceeded from a band of sugar-makers. every man, woman, and child stared as i passed them, but all were friendly, and, without more ceremony than was needful, i walked up to the fire, at which i found two or three old women, with their husbands, attending to the kettles. their plain dresses of kentucky homespun were far more pleasing to my sight than the ribboned turbans of city dames, or the powdered wigs and embroidered waistcoats of antique beaux. i was heartily welcomed, and supplied with a goodly pone of bread, a plate of molasses, and some sweet potatoes. fatigued with my long ramble, i lay down under the lee of the smoke, and soon fell into a sound sleep. when day returned, the frost lay thick around; but the party arose cheerful and invigorated, and after performing their orisons, resumed their labor. the scenery was most pleasing; the ground all round looked as if it had been cleared of underwood; the maples, straight and tall, seemed as if planted in rows; between them meandered several rills, which gently murmured as they hastened toward the larger stream; and as the sun dissolved the frozen dews the few feathered songsters joined the chorus of the woodsmen's daughters. whenever a burst of laughter suddenly echoed through the woods, an owl or wild turkey would respond to it, with a signal welcome to the young men of the party. with large ladles the sugar-makers stirred the thickening juice of the maple; pails of sap were collected from the trees and brought in by the young people, while here and there some sturdy fellow was seen first hacking a cut in a tree, and afterwards boring with an auger a hole, into which he introduced a piece of hollow cane, by which the sap was to be drained off. about half a dozen men had felled a noble yellow poplar, and sawed its great trunk into many pieces, which, after being split, they were scooping into troughs to be placed under the cane-cocks, to receive the maple juice. now, good reader, should you ever chance to travel through the maple grounds that lie near the banks of that lovely stream the green river of kentucky, either in january or in march, or through those on the broader monongahela in april; nay, should you find yourself by the limpid streamlets that roll down the declivities of the pocano mountains to join the lehigh, and there meet with a sugar camp, take my advice and tarry for a while. if you be on foot or on horseback, and are thirsty, you can nowhere find a more wholesome or more agreeable beverage than the juice of the maple. a man when in the floridas may drink molasses diffused in water; in labrador he may drink what he can get; and at new york or philadelphia he may drink what he chooses; but in the woods a draught from the sugar maple is delicious and most refreshing. how often, when travelling, have i quenched my thirst with the limpid juice of the receiving-troughs, from which i parted with regret; nay, even my horse, i have thought, seemed to desire to linger as long as he could. but let me endeavor to describe to you the manner in which the sugar is obtained. the trees that yield it (_acer saccharinum_) are found more or less abundantly in all parts of the united states from louisiana to maine, growing on elevated rich grounds. an incision is made into the trunk at a height of from two to six feet; a pipe of cane or of any other kind is thrust into the aperture, a trough is placed beneath and receives the juice, which trickles by drops, and is as limpid as the purest spring water. when all the trees of a certain space have been tapped, and the troughs filled, the people collect the juice, and pour it into large vessels. a camp has already been pitched in the midst of a grove; several iron boilers have been fixed on stone or brick supports, and the business proceeds with vigor. at times several neighboring families join, and enjoy the labor, as if it were a pastime, remaining out day and night for several weeks; for the troughs and kettles must be attended to from the moment when they are first put in requisition until the sugar is produced. the men and boys perform the most laborious part of the business, but the women and girls are not less busy. it takes ten gallons of sap to produce a pound of fine-_grained sugar_; but an inferior kind in lumps, called _cake sugar_, is obtained in greater quantity. when the season is far advanced, the juice will no longer grain by boiling, and only produces a syrup. i have seen maple sugar so good, that some months after it was manufactured it resembled candy; and well do i remember the time when it was an article of commerce throughout kentucky, where, twenty-five or thirty years ago, it sold at from ½ to ½ cents per pound, according to its quality, and was daily purchased in the markets or stores. trees that have been thus bored rarely last many years; for the cuts and perforations made in their trunks injure their health, so that after some years of _weeping_ they become sickly, exhibit monstrosities about their lower parts, gradually decay, and at length die. i have no doubt, however, that, with proper care, the same quantity of sap might be obtained with less injury to the trees; and it is now fully time that the farmers and land-owners should begin to look to the preservation of their sugar-maples. the white perch and the favorite bait no sooner have the overflowing waters of early spring subsided within their banks, and the temperature become pleasant, than the trees of our woods are seen to unfold their buds and blossoms, and the white perch which during the winter has lived in the ocean, rushes up our streams, to seek the well-known haunts in which it last year deposited its spawn. with unabating vigor it ascends the turbulent current of the mississippi, of which, however, the waters are too muddy to suit its habits; and glad no doubt it is to enter one of the numberless tributaries whose limpid waters are poured into the mighty river. of these subsidiary waters the ohio is one in whose pure stream the white perch seems to delight; and towards its head-springs the fish advance in numerous shoals, following the banks with easy progress. over many a pebbly or gravelly bar does it seek its food. here the crawling mussel it crunches and devours; there, with the speed of an arrow, it darts upon the minnow; again, at the edge of a shelving rock, or by the side of a stone, it secures a cray-fish. no impure food will "the growler" touch; therefore, reader, never make use of such to allure it, otherwise not only will your time be lost, but you will not enjoy the gratification of tasting this delicious fish. should you have no experience in fishing for perch i would recommend to you to watch the men you see on that shore, for they are excellent anglers. smooth are the waters, clear is the sky, and gently does the stream move--perhaps its velocity does not exceed a mile in the hour. silence reigns around you. see, each fisher has a basket or calabash, containing many a live cray; and each line, as thick as a crowquill, measures scarce a furlong. at one end two perch-hooks are so fastened that they cannot interfere with each other. a few inches beyond the reaching point of the farthest hook, the sinker, perhaps a quarter of a pound in weight, having a hole bored through its length, is passed upon the line, and there secured by a stout knot at its lower extremity. the other end of the line is fastened ashore. the tackle, you observe, is carefully coiled on the sand at the fisher's feet. now on each hook he fixes a cray-fish, piercing the shell beneath the tail, and forcing the keen weapon to reach the very head of the suffering creature, while all its legs are left at liberty to move. now each man, holding his line a yard or so from the hooks, whirls it several times overhead, and sends it off to its full length directly across the stream. no sooner has it reached the gravelly bed than, gently urged by the current, it rolls over and over, until the line and the water follow the same direction. before this, however, i see that several of the men have had a bite, and that by a short jerk they have hooked the fish. hand over hand they haul in their lines. poor perch, it is useless labor for thee to flounce and splash in that manner, for no pity will be shown thee, and thou shalt be dashed on the sand, and left there to quiver in the agonies of death. the lines are within a few yards of being in. i see the fish gasping on its side. ah! there are two on this line, both good; on most of the others there is one; but i see some of the lines have been robbed by some cunning inhabitant of the water. what beautiful fishes these perches are! so silvery beneath, so deeply colored above! what a fine eye, too! but, friend, i cannot endure their gaspings. pray put them on this short line, and place them in the water beside you, until you prepare to go home. in a few hours each fisher has obtained as many as he wishes. he rolls up his line, fastens five or six perches on each side of his saddle, mounts his horse, and merrily wends his way. in this manner the white perch is caught along the sandy banks of the ohio, from its mouth to its source. in many parts above louisville some fishers prefer using the trot-line, which, however, ought to be placed upon, or very little above, the bottom of the stream. when this kind of line is employed, its hooks are more frequently baited with mussels than with cray-fish, the latter being, perhaps, not so easily procured there as farther down the stream. great numbers of perches are also caught in seines, especially during a transient rise of the water. few persons fish for them with the pole, as they generally prefer following the edges of the sand-bars, next to deep water. like all others of its tribe, the white perch is fond of depositing its spawn on gravelly or sandy beds, but rarely at a depth of less than four or five feet. these beds are round, and have an elevated margin formed of the sand removed from their centre, which is scooped out for two or three inches. the fish, although it generally remains for some days over its treasure, is by no means so careful of it as the little "sunny," but starts off at the least appearance of danger. i have more than once taken considerable pleasure in floating over their beds, when the water was sufficiently clear to admit of my seeing both the fish and its place of deposit; but i observed that if the sun was shining, the very sight of the boat's shadow drove the perches away. i am of opinion that most of them return to the sea about the beginning of november; but of this i am not certain. the usual length of this fish, which on the ohio is called the white perch, and in the state of new york the growler, is from fifteen to twenty inches. i have, however, seen some considerably larger. the weight varies from a pound and a half to four, and even six pounds. for the first six weeks of their arrival in fresh-water streams they are in season; the flesh is then white and firm, and affords excellent eating; but during the heats of summer they become poor, and are seldom very good. now and then, in the latter days of september, i have eaten some that tasted as well as in spring. one of the most remarkable habits of this fish is that from which it has received the name of growler. when poised in the water, close to the bottom of the boat, it emits a rough croaking noise, somewhat resembling a groan. whenever this sound is heard under a boat, if the least disturbance is made by knocking on the gunwale or bottom, it at once ceases; but is renewed when everything is quiet. it is seldom heard, however, unless in fine, calm weather. the white perch bites at the hook with considerable care, and very frequently takes off the bait without being caught. indeed, it requires a good deal of dexterity to hook it, for if this is not done the first time it touches the bait, you rarely succeed afterward; and i have seen young hands at the game, who, in the course of a morning, seldom caught more than one or two, although they lost perhaps twenty crays. but now that i have afforded you some information respecting the habits of the white perch, allow me to say a few words on the subject of its favorite bait. the cray is certainly not a fish, although usually so styled; but as every one is acquainted with its form and nature, i shall not inflict on you any disquisition regarding it. it is a handsome crustaceous animal certainly, and its whole tribe i consider as dainties of the first order. to me "_Écrevisses_," whether of salt or fresh water, stripped of their coats and blended into a soup or a "gombo," have always been most welcome. boiled or roasted, too, they are excellent in my estimation, and mayhap in yours. the cray-fish, of which i here more particularly speak--for i shall not deprive them of their caudal appendage, lest, like a basha without his tail, they might seem of less consequence--are found most abundantly swimming, crawling at the bottom or on shore, or working at their muddy burrows, in all the southern parts of the union. if i mistake not, we have two species at least, one more an inhabitant of rocky streamlets than the other, and that one by far the best, though the other is good too. both species swim by means of rapid strokes of the tail, which propel them backwards to a considerable distance at each repetition. all that i regret concerning these animals is that they are absolutely little aquatic vultures--or, if you please, crustacea with vulturine habits--for they feed on everything impure that comes in their way, when they cannot obtain fresh aliment. however this may be, the crays somehow fall in with this sort of food, and any person may catch as many as he may wish, by fastening a piece of flesh to a line, allowing it to remain under water for a while, and drawing it up with care, when, with the aid of a hand-net, he may bring it ashore with _a few_! but although this is a good method of procuring cray-fish, it answers only for those that live in running waters. the form of these is delicate, their color a light olive, and their motions in the water are very lively. the others are larger, of a dark, greenish brown, less active in the water than on land, although they are most truly amphibious. the first conceal themselves beneath shelving rocks, stones, or water-plants; the others form a deep burrow in the damp earth, depositing the materials drawn up as a man would do in digging a well. the manner in which they dispose of the mud you may see by glancing at the plate of the white ibis, in my third volume of illustrations, where also you will find a tolerable portrait of one of these creatures. according to the nature of the ground, the burrows of this cray-fish are more or less deep. indeed, this also depends partly on the increasing dryness of the soil, when influenced by the heat of summer, as well as on the texture of the substratum. thus, in some places, where the cray can reach the water after working a few inches, it rests contented during the day, but crawls out for food at night. should it, however, be left dry, it renews its labors; and thus while one burrow may be only five or six inches deep, another may be two or three feet, and a third even more. they are easily procured when thus lodged in shallow holes; but when the burrow is deep, a thread is used, with a small piece of flesh fastened to it. the cray eagerly seizes the bait, and is gently drawn up, and thrown to a distance, when he becomes an easy prey. you have read of the method used by the white ibis in procuring crays,[ ] and i leave you to judge whether the bird or the man is the best fisher. this species is most abundant round the borders of the stagnant lakes, bayous, or ponds of the southern districts; and i have seen them caught even in the streets of the suburbs of new orleans, after a heavy shower. they become a great pest by perforating embankments of all sorts, and many are the maledictions that are uttered against them, both by millers and planters, nay, even by the overseers of the levees along the banks of the mississippi. but they are curious creatures, formed no doubt for useful purposes, and as such they are worthy of your notice. the american sun perch few of our smaller fresh-water fishes excel, either in beauty or in delicacy and flavor, the species which i have chosen as the subject of this article, and few afford more pleasure to young fishers. although it occurs in all our streams, whether rapid or gentle, small or large, in the mill-dam overshadowed by tall forest trees, or in the open lake margined with reeds, you must never expect to find it in impure waters. let the place be deep or shallow, broad or narrow, the water must be clear enough to allow the sun's rays to fall unimpaired on the rich coat of mail that covers the body of the sunfish. look at him as he poises himself under the lee of the protecting rock beneath our feet! see how steadily he maintains his position, and yet how many rapid motions of his fins are necessary to preserve it! now another is by his side glowing with equal beauty, and poising itself by equally easy and graceful movements. the sun is shining, and under the lee of every stone, and sunk log, some of the little creatures are rising to the surface to enjoy the bright blaze, which enhances all their beauty. the golden hues of some parts of the body, blend with the green of the emerald, while the coral tints of the lower parts and the red of its sparkling eye, render our little favorite a perfect gem of the waters. the rushing stream boils and gurgles as it forces its way over the obstacles presented by its bed, the craggy points, large stones and logs that are strewn along the bottom. every one of these proves a place of rest, safety, and observation to the little things, whose eyes are ever anxiously watching their favorite prey as it passes. there an unfortunate moth, swept along by the current, labors in vain to extricate itself from the treacherous element; its body, indeed, at intervals, rises a little above the surface, but its broad wings, now wet and heavy, bear it down again to the water. the sunfish has marked it, and as it passes his retreat, he darts towards it, with twenty of his fellows, all eager to seize the prize. the swiftest swallows it in a moment, and all immediately return to their lurking-places, where they fancy themselves secure. but, alas! the sunfish is no more without enemies than the moth, or any other living creature. so has nature determined, evidently, to promote prudence and industry, without which none can reap the full advantage of life. on the top of yon miller's dam stands boldly erect the ardent fisher. up to the knees and regardless of the danger of his situation, he prepares his apparatus of destruction. a keen hook attached to his grass line is now hid within the body of a worm or grasshopper. with a knowing eye he marks one after another every surge of the water below. observing the top of a rock scarcely covered, he sends his hook towards it with gentleness and certainty; the bait now floats and anon sinks; his reel slowly lengthens the line, which is suddenly tightened, and he feels that a fish is secured. now whirls the reel again; thrice has the fish tried its utmost strength and speed, but soon, panting and exhausted, it is seen floating for a moment on the surface. nothing now is required but to bring it to hand, which done, the angler baits anew, and sends forth the treacherous morsel. for an hour or more he continues the agreeable occupation, drawing from the stream a fish at every short interval. to the willow twig fastened to his waist a hundred "sunnies" are already attached. suddenly the sky is overcast, and the crafty fisher, although aware that with a different hook and bait he might soon procure a fine eel or two, carefully wades to the shore, and homeward leisurely plods his way. in this manner are the sunfishes caught by the regular or "scientific" anglers, and a beautiful sight it is to see the ease and grace with which they allure the objects of their desire, whether in the open turbulence of the waters, or under the low boughs of the overhanging trees, where, in some deep hole, a swarm of the little creatures may be playing in fancied security. rarely does his tackle become entangled, whilst, with incomparable dexterity, he draws one after another from the waters. thousands of individuals, however, there are, who, less curious in their mode of fishing, often procure as many "sunnies" without allowing them to play for a moment. look at these boys! one stands on the shore, while the others are on fallen trees that project over the stream. their rods, as you perceive, are merely shoots of the hazel or hickory, their lines are simply twine, and their hooks none of the finest. one has a calabash filled with worms and grubs of many sorts, kept alive in damp earth, and another is supplied with a bottle containing half a gross of live "hoppers;" the third has no bait at all, but borrows from his nearest neighbor. well, there they are, "three merry boys," whirling their rods in the air to unroll their lines, on one of which, you observe, a cork is fastened, while on another is a bit of light wood, and on the third a grain or two of large shot, to draw it at once to a certain depth. now their hooks are baited and all are ready. each casts his line as he thinks best, after he has probed the depth of the stream with his rod, to enable him to place his buoy at the proper point. bob, bob, goes the cork; down it moves; the bit of wood disappears, the leaded line tightens; in a moment up swing the "sunnies," which, getting unhooked, are projected far among the grass, where they struggle in vain, until death ends their efforts. the hooks are now baited anew, and dropped into the water. the fish is abundant, the weather propitious and delightful, for it is now october; and so greedy have the "sunnies" become of grasshoppers and grubs that dozens at once dash at the same bait. the lads, believe me, have now rare sport, and in an hour scarcely a fish remains in the hole. the happy children have caught, perhaps, some hundreds of delicious "panfish," to feed their parents and delight their little sisters. surely their pleasure is fully as great as that experienced by the scientific angler. i have known instances when the waters of a dam having been let out, for some reason better known to the miller than to myself, all the sunfish have betaken themselves to one or two deep holes, as if to avoid being carried away from their favorite abode. there i have seen them in such multitudes that one could catch as many as he pleased with a pin-hook, fastened to any sort of line, and baited with any sort of worm or insect, or even with a piece of newly caught fish. yet, and i am not able to account for it, all of a sudden, without apparent cause, they would cease to take, and no allurement whatever could entice them or the other fishes in the pool to seize the hook. during high freshets, this species of perch seldom bites at anything; but you may procure them with a cast-net or a seine, provided you are well acquainted with the localities. on the contrary, when the waters are clear and low, every secluded hole, every eddy under the lee of a rock, every place sheltered by a raft of timber, will afford you amusement. in some parts of the southern states, the negroes procure these fishes late in the autumn in shallow ponds or bayous, by wading through the water with caution, and placing at every few steps a wicker apparatus, not unlike a small barrel, open at both ends. the moment the fishes find themselves confined within the lower part of this, which is pressed to the bottom of the stream, their skippings announce their capture, and the fisher secures his booty. this species, the _labrus auritus_ of linnæus, the _pomotis vulgaris_ of cuvier, seldom exceeds five or six inches in length, but is rather deep in proportion. the usual size is from four to five inches, with a depth of from two to two and a half. they are not bony, and at all seasons afford delicate eating. having observed a considerable change in their color in different parts of the united states, and in different streams, ponds, or lakes, i was led to think that this curious effect might be produced by the difference of color in the water. thus the sunfish caught in the deep waters of green river, in kentucky, exhibit a depth of olive-brown quite different from the general tint of those caught in the colorless waters of the ohio or schuylkill; those of the reddish-colored waters of the bayous of the louisiana swamps look as if covered with a coppery tarnish; and, lastly, those met with in streams that glide beneath cedars or other firs, have a pale and sallow complexion. the sun perch, wherever found, seems to give a decided preference to sandy, gravelly, or rocky beds of streams, avoiding those of which the bottom is muddy. at the period of depositing their eggs this preference is still more apparent. the little creature is then seen swimming rapidly over shallows, the bed of which is mostly formed of fine gravel, when after a time it is observed to poise itself and gradually sink to the bottom, where with its fin it pushes aside the sand to the extent of eight or ten inches, thus forming a circular cavity. in a few days a little ridge is thus raised around, and in the cleared area the roe is deposited. by wading carefully over the extent of the place, a person may count forty, fifty, or more of these beds, some within a few feet of each other, and some several yards apart. instead of abandoning its spawn, as others of the family are wont to do, this little fish keeps guard over it with all the care of a sitting bird. you observe it poised over the bed, watching the objects around. should the rotten leaf of a tree, a piece of wood, or any other substance, happen to be rolled over the border of the bed, the sunfish carefully removes it, holding the obnoxious matter in its mouth, and dropping it over the margin. having many times witnessed this act of prudence and cleanliness in the little sunny, and observed that at this period it will not seize on any kind of bait, i took it into my head one fair afternoon to make a few experiments for the purpose of judging how far its instinct or reason might induce it to act when disturbed or harassed. provided with a fine fishing-line, and such insects as i knew were relished by this fish, i reached a sand-bar covered by about one foot of water, where i had previously seen many deposits. approaching the nearest to the shore with great care, i baited my hook with a living ground-worm, the greater part of which was left at liberty to writhe as it pleased, and, throwing the line up the stream, managed it so that at last it passed over the border of the nest, when i allowed it to remain on the bottom. the fish, i perceived, had marked me, and as the worm intruded on its premises, it swam to the farther side, there poised itself for a few moments, then approached the worm, and carried it in its mouth over the side next to me, with a care and gentleness so very remarkable as to afford me much surprise. i repeated the experiment six or seven times, and always with the same result. then changing the bait, i employed a young grasshopper, which i floated into the egg-bed. the insect was removed, as the worm had been, and two attempts to hook the fish proved unsuccessful. i now threw my line with the hook bare, and managed as before. the sunny appeared quite alarmed. it swam to one side, then to another, in rapid succession, and seemed to entertain a fear that the removal of the suspicious object might prove extremely dangerous to it. yet it gradually approached the hook, took it delicately up, and the next instant dropped it over the edge of the bed. reader, if you are one who, like me, have studied nature with a desire to improve your mental faculties, and contemplate the wonderful phenomena that present themselves to the view at every step we take in her wide domain, you would have been struck, had you witnessed the actions of this little fish, as i was, with admiration of the being who gave such instincts to so humble an object. i gazed in amazement at the little creature, and wondered that nature had endowed it with such feelings and powers. the irrepressible desire of acquiring knowledge prompted me to continue the experiment; but with whatever dexterity i could in those days hook a fish, all my efforts proved abortive, not with this individual only, but with many others which i subjected to the same trials. satisfied that at this period the sunfish was more than a match for me, i rolled up my line, and with the rod gave a rap on the water as nearly over the fish as i could. the sunny darted off to a distance of several yards, poised itself steadily, and as soon as my rod was raised from the water, returned to its station. the effect of the blow on the water was now apparent, for i perceived that the fish was busily employed in smoothing the bed; but here ended my experiments on the sunfish. my style of drawing birds[ ] when, as a little lad, i first began my attempts at representing birds on paper, i was far from possessing much knowledge of their nature, and, like hundreds of others, when i had laid the effort aside, i was under the impression that it was a finished picture of a bird because it possessed some sort of a head and tail, and two sticks in lieu of legs; i never troubled myself with the thought that abutments were requisite to prevent it from falling either backward or forward, and oh! what bills and claws i did draw, to say nothing of a perfectly straight line for a back, and a tail stuck in anyhow, like an unshipped rudder. many persons besides my father saw my miserable attempts, and so many praised them to the skies that perhaps no one was ever nearer being completely wrecked than i by these mistaken, though affectionate words. my father, however, spoke very differently to me; he constantly impressed upon me that nothing in the world possessing life and animation was easy to imitate, and that as i grew older he hoped i would become more and more alive to this. he was so kind to me, and so deeply interested in my improvement that to have listened carelessly to his serious words would have been highly ungrateful. i listened less to others, more to him, and his words became my law. the first collection of drawings i made were from european specimens, procured by my father or myself, and i still have them in my possession.[ ] they were all represented _strictly ornithologically_, which means neither more nor less than in stiff, unmeaning profiles, such as are found in most works published to the present day. my next set was begun in america, and there, without my honored mentor, i betook myself to the drawing of specimens hung by a string tied to one foot, having a desire to show every portion, as the wings lay loosely spread, as well as the tail. in this manner i made some pretty fair signs for poulterers. one day, while watching the habits of a pair of pewees at mill grove, i looked so intently at their graceful attitudes that a thought struck my mind like a flash of light, that nothing, after all, could ever answer my enthusiastic desires to represent nature, except to copy her in her own way, alive and moving! then i began again. on i went, forming, literally, hundreds of outlines of my favorites, the pewees; how good or bad i cannot tell, but i fancied i had mounted a step on the high pinnacle before me. i continued for months together, simply outlining birds as i observed them, either alighted or on the wing, but could finish none of my sketches. i procured many individuals of different species, and laying them on the table or on the ground, tried to place them in such attitudes as i had sketched. but, alas! they were _dead_, to all intents and purposes, and neither wing, leg, nor tail could i place according to my wishes. a second thought came to my assistance; by means of threads i raised or lowered a head, wing, or tail, and by fastening the threads securely, i had something like life before me; yet much was wanting. when i saw the living birds, i felt the blood rush to my temples, and almost in despair spent about a month without drawing, but in deep thought, and daily in the company of the feathered inhabitants of dear mill grove. i had drawn from the "manikin" whilst under david, and had obtained tolerable figures of our species through this means, so i cogitated how far a manikin of a bird would answer. i labored with wood, cork, and wires, and formed a grotesque figure, which i cannot describe in any other words than by saying that when set up it was a tolerable-looking dodo. a friend roused my ire by laughing at it immoderately, and assuring me that if i wished to represent a tame gander it might do. i gave it a kick, broke it to atoms, walked off, and thought again. young as i was, my impatience to obtain my desire filled my brains with many plans. i not infrequently dreamed that i had made a new discovery; and long before day, one morning, i leaped out of bed fully persuaded that i had obtained my object. i ordered a horse to be saddled, mounted, and went off at a gallop towards the little village of norristown, distant about five miles. when i arrived there not a door was open, for it was not yet daylight. therefore i went to the river, took a bath, and, returning to the town, entered the first opened shop, inquired for wire of different sizes, bought some, leaped on my steed, and was soon again at mill grove. the wife of my tenant, i really believe, thought that i was mad, as, on offering me breakfast, i told her i only wanted my gun. i was off to the creek, and shot the first kingfisher i met. i picked the bird up, carried it home by the bill, sent for the miller, and bade him bring me a piece of board of soft wood. when he returned he found me filing sharp points to some pieces of wire, and i proceeded to show him what i meant to do. i pierced the body of the fishing bird, and fixed it on the board; another wire passed above his upper mandible held the head in a pretty fair attitude, smaller ones fixed the feet according to my notions, and even common pins came to my assistance. the last wire proved a delightful elevator to the bird's tail, and at last--there stood before me the _real_ kingfisher. [illustration: old mill and miller's cottage at mill grove on the perkiomen creek. from a photograph from w. h. wetherill, esq.] think not that my lack of breakfast was at all in my way. no, indeed! i outlined the bird, aided by compasses and my eyes, colored it, finished it, without a thought of hunger. my honest miller stood by the while, and was delighted to see me pleased. this was what i shall call my first drawing actually from nature, for even the eye of the kingfisher was as if full of life whenever i pressed the lids aside with my finger. in those happy days of my youth i was extremely fond of reading what i still call the delightful fables of la fontaine. i had frequently perused the one entitled "_l'hirondelle et les petits oiseaux_," and thought much of the meaning imparted in the first line, which, if i now recollect rightly, goes on to say that "_quiconque a beaucoup vu, peut avoir beaucoup retenu_." to me this meant that to study nature was to ramble through her domains late and early, and if i observed all as i should, that the memory of what i saw would at least be of service to me. "early to bed, and early to rise," was another adage which i thought, and still think, of much value; 'tis a pity that instead of being merely an adage it has not become a general law; i have followed it ever since i was a child, and am ever grateful for the hint it conveyed. as i wandered, mostly bent on the study of birds, and with a wish to represent all those found in our woods, to the best of my powers, i gradually became acquainted with their forms and habits, and the use of my wires was improved by constant practice. whenever i produced a better representation of any species the preceding one was destroyed, and after a time i laid down what i was pleased to call a constitution of my manner of drawing birds, formed upon natural principles, which i will try to put briefly before you. the gradual knowledge of the forms and habits of the birds of our country impressed me with the idea that each part of a family must possess a certain degree of affinity, distinguishable at sight in any one of them. the pewees, which i knew by experience were positively flycatchers, led me to the discovery that every bird truly of that genus, when standing, was usually in a passive attitude; that they sat uprightly, now and then glancing their eyes upwards or sideways, to watch the approach of their insect prey; that if in pursuit of this prey their movements through the air were, in each and all of that tribe, the same, etc., etc. gallinaceous birds i saw were possessed of movements and positions peculiar to them. amongst the water-birds also i found characteristic manners. i observed that the herons walked with elegance and stateliness, that, in fact, every family had some mark by which it could be known; and, after having collected many ideas and much material of this kind, i fairly began, in greater earnest than ever, the very collection of birds of america, which is now being published. the better i understood my subjects, the better i became able to represent them in what i hoped were natural positions. the bird once fixed with wires on squares, i studied as a lay figure before me, its nature, previously known to me as far as habits went, and its general form having been frequently observed. now i could examine more thoroughly the bill, nostrils, eyes, legs, and claws, as well as the structure of the wings and tail; the very tongue was of importance to me, and i thought the more i understood all these particulars, the better representations i made of the originals. [illustration: audubon. from a pencil sketch after death, by john woodhouse audubon. january , .] my drawings at first were made altogether in water-colors, but they wanted softness and a great deal of finish. for a long time i was much dispirited at this, particularly when vainly endeavoring to imitate birds of soft and downy plumage, such as that of most owls, pigeons, hawks, and herons. how this could be remedied required a new train of thought, or some so-called accident, and the latter came to my aid. one day, after having finished a miniature portrait of the one dearest to me in all the world, a portion of the face was injured by a drop of water, which dried where it fell; and although i labored a great deal to repair the damage, the blur still remained. recollecting that, when a pupil of david, i had drawn heads and figures in different colored chalks, i resorted to a piece of that material of the tint required for the part, applied the pigment, rubbed the place with a cork stump, and at once produced the desired effect. my drawings of owls and other birds of similar plumage were much improved by such applications; indeed, after a few years of patience, some of my attempts began almost to please me, and i have continued the same style ever since, and that now is for more than thirty years. whilst travelling in europe as well as america, many persons have evinced the desire to draw birds in my manner, and i have always felt much pleasure in showing it to any one by whom i hoped ornithological delineations or portraitures would be improved. [illustration: bowie knife. presented by henry carleton.] footnotes: [ ] this was in or . [ ] this was written in . [ ] vincent nolte, in "fifty years in both hemispheres," gives an account of his meeting on this occasion with audubon, part of which is as follows: "about ten o'clock i arrived at a small inn, close by the falls of the juniata river. the landlady showed me into a room and said i perhaps would not mind taking my meal with a strange gentleman, who was already there. this personage struck me as an odd fish. he was sitting at a table before the fire, with a madras handkerchief wound around his head, exactly in the style of the french mariners of a seaport town.... he showed himself to be an original throughout, but admitted he was a frenchman by birth, and a native of la rochelle. however, he had come in his early youth to louisiana, had grown up in the sea-service, and had gradually become a thorough american. this man, who afterwards won for himself so great a name in natural history, particularly in ornithology, was audubon." it is needless to say that the personal history of audubon as here given is entirely erroneous; but as the meeting was in , and the book written _from memory_ in , mr. nolte must be pardoned for his misstatements, which were doubtless unintentional. [ ] this was on the journey made by audubon and his partner, ferdinand rozier, from louisville to st. genevieve, then in upper louisiana. they left louisville in the autumn of , and audubon returned in the spring of . [ ] this incident occurred during audubon's return trip to st. geneviève in the early spring of . [ ] _sylvia parus_, hemlock warbler; ornith. biog. vol. ii. page . [ ] audubon and mr. irish met many times afterwards, the last being, i believe, in philadelphia, on the eve of audubon's departure for his missouri river trip. [ ] then philadelphia. [ ] the name given by the wreckers and smugglers to the "marion." [ ] plate cclxxxi., ed. - ; plate ccclxviii., ed. . [ ] the "moose hunt" was communicated to me by my young friend, thomas lincoln, of dennysville in maine. [ ] the last episode in vol. ii. of the "ornithological biographies." [ ] "on the th [june, ], before sunrise, i departed in the most secret manner, and arrived at boonesborough on the th, after a journey of miles, during which i had but one meal." (letter of daniel boone, who was then forty-three.) [ ] this bird [the white ibis], to procure the cray-fish, walks with remarkable care to the mounds of mud which the latter throws up while forming its hole, and breaks up the upper part of the fabric, dropping the fragments into the deep cavity that has been made by the animal. then the ibis retires a single step, and patiently waits the result. the cray-fish, incommoded by the load of earth, instantly sets to work anew, and at last reaches the entrance of its burrow; but the moment it comes in sight the ibis seizes it with his bill. (the white ibis, _ibis alba_, plate ccxxii., ornith. biog., vol. iii., p. ). [ ] audubon's drawings have been criticised for their _flatness_. of this, cuvier says: "it is difficult to give a true picture of a bird with the same effect of perspective as a landscape, and the lack of this is no defect in a work on natural history. naturalists prefer the real color of objects to those accidental tints which are the result of the varied reflections of light necessary to complete picturesque representations, but foreign and even injurious to scientific truth." [ ] this was in ; they have since been destroyed by fire, or, at least, the greater number. index abert, col. john, i. . abingdon, ii. . abyssinian, i. . académie des sciences, i. , , . academy of arts, edinburgh, i. . academy of sciences, philadelphia, i. , , , . academy of sciences, new york. _see_ new york academy of sciences. acer saccharinum, ii. . actitis macularia, i. . adams, bernard, ii. . adams, john quincy, i. . adamson, john, i. , , , - , . Ægialitis semipalmatus, i. . africa, i. . alabama, i. ; ii. . alauda alpestris, i. , , , . _see also_ lark, shore. ---- spragueii, ii. . albagash river, ii. . alca torda, i. - , , , , , . alexis, i. , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , . algiers, ii. . allan, william, i. , . alleghanies, mountains, i. , , ; ii. , . alligator, i. , , ; ii. , , , , , , , . aln river, i. . alnwick, i. , . alnwick castle, i. . america, i. , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . american fur company, i. , ; ii. , , . american harbor, i. , , , . american ornithological union, i. . amherst island, i. , . amiens, i. . ammodramus bairdi, ii. . ---- [colurniculus] lecontei, i. . amsterdam, i. . anas fusca, i. . ---- glacialis, i. . _see also_ duck, velvet. ---- obscura, i. . anatomical school, oxford, i. . andes, i. . "andromache, the" (brig), i. . angel inn, i. . anhingas, ii. . anser albifrons gambeli, i. . ---- canadensis, i. . _see also_ goose, wild. antelope, i. , , , , - , ; ii. , , , - , , , - , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , . anthus pennsylvanicus, i. . ---- spinoletta, i. , , . _see also_ lark, brown. ---- [neocorys] spraguei, ii. . anticosti island, i. . antilocapra americana, ii. . antiquarian society, edinburgh, i. , , , . apple creek, ii. , . apple white, i. . aquila chrysaëtus, i. . archibald, george, i. . arctomys [cynomys] ludovicianus, i. , . _see also_ dog, prairie. ---- monax, i. . ardea herodias, i. , . ---- occidentalis, ii. . arickaras, i. ; ii. . arkansas river, i. , ; ii. , . arkwright, sir thomas, i. , . armadillo, ii. . arrow rock, ii. . arthur's seat, i. , . artemisia, ii. , . artois, i. . arvicola pennsylvanica, i. ; ii. . ---- riparius, i. . ashley, general, ii. . asia, i. . assiniboin, ii. , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , . "assiniboin" (steamer), ii. , . _astoria_, irving's, i. , . athenæum, liverpool, i. . athenæum, london, i. . athens, british, ii. . atherton, mr., i. . atkinson, mr., i. . atlantic ocean, i. , , . auckland, lord, i. . audubon, georgiana, ii. . ----, admiral jean, i. , , . ----, john woodhouse, i. , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , ; companion in labrador, - ; ; ii. , . ----, mrs. lucy, i. , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. . ----, lucy, infant, i. . ----, rosa, i. , , . ----, mrs. v. g. _see_ audubon, georgiana. ----, victor gifford, i. , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , ; , . audubon and bakewell, i. . audubonian period, i. . audubon park, i. . audubon's bluff, ii. . audubon's isle, ii. . auk, great, ii. . ----, razor-billed, i. . aux cayes, i. , . avocet, i. . ayowah river, ii. . ayre river, i. , . ayres, w. o., ii. . baamchenunsgamook, lake, ii. . bachman, john, d.d., i. , , - , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , . ----, maria r., i. . backhouse, john, i. . bad river, i. . badger, ii. , , , , , , , . baird, spencer f., ii. , ; _birds of north america_, ii. . bakewell, i. , . ----, benjamin, i. , , . ----, lucy. _see_ audubon, mrs. lucy. ----, thomas w., i. , , , , , . ----, william, i. , , , , . ----, william gifford, i. , , . balacouda, i. ; ii. , . balize, i. ; ii. . _ball in newfoundland_, i. . baltimore, i. , , , ; ii. , . bamborough castle, i. . bangor, ii. , , . bantams, i. . baptiste. _see_ moncrévier, jean baptiste. barbier, antoine alexandre, i. . barclay, mr., i. , , , . barro, ii. , . barry's hotel, i. , . basil, ii. , - . basil river, i. ; ii. . bat, i. , , ; ii. . baton rouge, ii. , . bay verte, i. . bayfield, i. , , , , ; ii. . bayonne, i. . bayou lafourche, ii. . ---- sara, i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . beal family, ii. . bear, i. , , , , , ; ii. - , - , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , . ----, black, i. , , , ; ii. , , , , , , . ----, grizzly, i. ; ii. , , , , , , - , , , , , - , , , . ---- story, ii. . ---- trap, i. . beaumont, mr., ii. . beaver, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ---- creek, ii. . bedford, ii. . "bee" (steamer), ii. . ---- tree, ii. . beech woods, i. , , . beetle, diamond, i. . _beggar's opera_, i. , . _behind the veil_, i. . belford, i. . belgrade, ii. . bell, john g., i. ; companion on missouri river trip, i. - ; ii. - , belle isle, ii. . ---- vue, i. , ; ii. , . _belles fleurs_, redouté's, i. . bengal, i. . bennett, edward t., i. . bentley, robert, i. - , - , - , , , , - , . berlin, i. . berry, duchesse de, i. . berthoud, nicholas augustus, i. , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , . ---- family, i. . bertrand, dr., i. . berwick, i. . best, robert, i. , , . bewick, robert, i. , . ----, thomas, i. , - , , , , , ; ii. . big bend creek, i. . ---- sioux river, i. , ; ii. , . bighorns, ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , - , . bijou's hill, ii. . billings, capt., i. , , , . _biography of birds_, ii. . bird of washington, i. , . ---- rocks, i. . _birds of america_, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , . _birds of colorado valley_, ii. . _birds of north america_, baird's, ii. . _birds of the north west_, coues, i. . birmingham, i. . bismarck, ii. , . bittern, american, i. . black bull hotel, i. . ---- cock, i. , , , , . ---- harris, ii. , . ---- heath, i. . ---- hills, ii. , , . ---- mts. ii. , . ---- snake hills, i. , , ; ii. . ---- warrior, i. . blackbird, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; brewer's, i. . ---- (chief), i. . ---- hill, i. . blackfoot fort, ii. , . blackfoot indians, i. ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ---- river, ii. . black-poll warbler, i. . blackwall, i. . "blackwood's magazine," i. , , , , , , . blair, mr., i. . blanc sablons, i. . blanchard, mr., i. . blind asylum, liverpool, i. , . blood indians, ii. , . "blow me down," cape, i. . blue boar, i. . ---- jay, i. . blue-bird, i. , , ; ii. , , . ----, arctic, ii. , , , . boar, wild, ii. . bobolink, ii. . bodley, a. p., ii. . bohn, henry george, i. , , . bolton, i. . ----, fox, livingston, and co., i. . bombarde, alexis. _see_ alexis. bonaparte, charles lucien, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ----, charles lucien, _ornithology_, i. . ----, joseph, i. , . ----, napoleon, i. , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . bonasa umbellus, i. . bonaventure, ii. , , - , . bonhomme island, ii. . bonita, ii. . bonne espérance, i. , . bonnet carré, ii. . bonneville, capt., ii. . boobies, ii. . booby, island, ii. . boone, daniel, i. ; ii. , , , , , . boone family, ii. . boone's lick, i. . ----salt works, i. . boonesborough, ii. . booneville, i. ; ii. . booth family, ii. . boston, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . botanical gardens, i. . boucherville, ii. , , - , . boulcar, lady, i. , . boulogne, i. . bourgeat, alexandre, i. , , . bowie, mr., i. ; ii. . bowen, lieut., i. , , . ----, j. t., i. . brackenridge, i. . bradbury, i. . brae house, i. . bragdon, samuel l., i. . branard, mr., i. . brand family, i. . brandywine, i. . birmingham, i. . branta canadensis, i. . ---- hutchinsi, ii. . bras d'or, i. - , , ; ii. , , . _breaking of the ice_, i. . brent, i. , , . brewer, thomas m., i. , ; ii. . brewster, sir david, i. , - , , , . bridges, david, i. - , , , , , , , , , . _british birds_, macgillivray's, i. . british museum, i. , , , . brookes, joshua, i. , , , , - . brouillerie, baron de, i. , , - , . brown, andrew, i. . ----, george a., i. . ----, dr. john, i. . bruce, thomas, i. . brussels, i. , , . bryon, isle de, i. . buckland, william, i. . buffalo, i. , , , , , , , , - , , , - , - , ; ii. - , - , , - , , , , - , , , , , , , - , , , , - , - , - , - , , , - , - , , , , , , , , , , . ---- berries, ii. . ---- bluffs, ii. . ---- lick, ii. . buford county, ii. . bulow, john, ii. , . bunting, i. , ; ii. . ----, arctic towhee, ii. , . ----, baird's, ii. . ----, bay-winged, ii. . ----, black-breasted lark, ii. , . ----, clay-colored, i. , . ----, cow, i. , . ----, henslow's, i. , ; ii. . ----, indigo, i. . ----, lark, i. . ----, rice, ii. . ----, shattuck's, i. . _see also_ emberiza shattuckii. ----, snow, i. . ----, towhee, i. , . ----, white-crowned, i. , , , , . burgwin, capt. j. h. k., i. - ; ii. . burnt hills, ii. . burton, i. . ----, dr. and mrs. edward, i. . bustard, great, ii. . butte quarré, ii. . buxton, i. . buzzard, i. ; ii. , . ----, turkey, i. , , , , , , ; ii. , , . _see also_ cathartes aura. cabané bluff, ii. . cabris, ii. , . ---- creek, i. . cainard, m., i. . calais, i. , , . calcarius ornatus, ii. . "caledonia" (steamer), i. . california, i. . calvert, mr., i. . calton, thomas, i. . cam river, i. . cambridge, eng., i. , , , , , . camden, n.j., i. ; ii. . camel, ii. . cameron, i. , . campbell, sir archibald, ii. . ----, ellen, i. . ---- (steamer), i. . camptolæmus labradorius, i. . canachites canadensis, i. . canada, i. , , ; ii. . canadians, french, i. , , . canfield, c. a., ii. . canis latrans, i. . ---- lupus, i. . ---- nubilus, i. . cannon ball river, ii. , , . canoe creek, ii. . canseau cape, i. - . ----, strait of, i. . canso. _see_ canseau. canterbury, i. . cape breton island, i. , . ---- florida songster, i. . caprimulgus, ii. . cariacus macrotis, i. . caribou, i. , , , - , , ; ii. , , , , . ---- flies, i. ; ii. . carleton, lieut. james henry, ii. , . carlisle, eng., i. - . ----, penn., ii. . carolinas, ii. . carré, charles, i. ; ii. , , . carrier, gen. jean b., i. . carrière, michel, ii. , . carroll co., mo., i. . cash creek, i. ; ii. . cat-bird, i. , , ; ii. , . catchfly, i. . catfish, i. ; ii. . cathartes aura, i. . _see also_ buzzard, turkey. catlin, george, i. , ; ii. , , , , , , , . "cavalier," ii. . cavendish square, i. . cedar birds, i. . ---- island, i. , ; ii. , . centrocircus urophasianus, ii. . ceritronyx bairdii, ii. . cerré, m., i. , , . cervus macrotis, i. . ---- virginianus, ii. . chaffinch, i. . chamois, ii. , . champ de mars, i. . chapel en-la-frith, i. . charadrius, i. . ---- semipalmatus, i. , , . charbonneau river, ii. , , . charbonnière river, ii. . chardon, mr., i. , , , ; ii. - , , , , - , , , . charing cross, i. . chariton river, i. ; ii. . "charity, mr.," i. , . charles i., i. , . charleston, s.c., i. - ; ii. , . charrette, f. a. de, i. . charwell river, i. . chastelleux, marquis de, i. . chat, yellow-breasted, i. , ; ii. . chenopòduum album, ii. . chester, eng., i. . chevalier, m., i. , . cheyenne river, i. ; ii. , . chicha river, i. . chickadee, i. . chickasaw, ii. . children, john george, i. , , , , , , , , , . chillicothe, ii. . chippeway indian, ii. , . chittenden, capt. hiram m., i. , . choctaw indians, ii. . chorley, henry, i. . ----, john, i. , , , , , . chouans, i. . chouteau, auguste, ii. . ----, pierre, i. , , , , ; ii. , . ----, madam pierre, i. ; ii. . chouteau's river, i. . chuckmill's widow, i. . cincinnati, i. , , - , ; ii. , , . clancarty, lord, i. , . clapham, i. . clarence, duchess of, i. . claridge, mr., ii. . clark, david, i. . ----, jonathan, i. . ----, lady mary, i. . ----, william, i. . clay, henry, i. , , . clayton, john, i. . clementi, muzio, i. . clifton, lord, i. . clinton, de witt, i. , , . clyde river, i. . cocks of the plain, ii. . cod, i. ; ii. , - . colaptes aurato-mexicanus, ii. . ---- ayresii, ii. . ---- cafer, ii. . _see also_ woodpecker, red-shafted. ---- hybridus, ii. . cold water river, ii. , . colinus virginianus, i. . collins, john, ii. , , , , , , , , , . colmesnil, louis, i. . "columbia" (ship), i. , ; ii. . ---- college, i. . ---- fur co., i. . ---- river, i. . colymbus glacialis, i. , . ---- septentrionalis, i. . _see also_ diver, red-throated. combe, andrew, i. , . ----, george, i. , , , , , , , , . condolleot, m., i. , . connecticut, ii. . constant, m., i. . contopus richardsonii, i. , . ---- virens, i. . coolidge, capt., i. ; ii. . ----, joseph, i. , ; companion in labrador, - , , , . cooper, j. f., ii. . ---- co., mo., i. . coot, i. , ; ii. , . ----, white-winged, i. . cormorant, i. , , - , - , ; ii. , , , , , . ----, double-crested, i. , . ----, florida, i. . _corn-shucking_, ii. . cornwall, eng., i. . corpus christi, i. . couëron, i. . coues, dr. elliott, i. , , . cougar, i. ; ii. - , , , . council bluffs, i. , , , . covent garden theatre, i. , , . cowbirds, i. , . craighlockhart, i. . crane, sand-hill, i. ; ii. , , , . ----, whooping, i. . cree indians, ii. , , . creeper, black-and-white, i. . ----, chestnut-sided, i. . ----, yellow-back, i. . crisp, major, i. . croghan, major, i. . ---- family, ii. , . cross, mr., i. - . crossbills, i. , , , . ----, white-winged, i. , , , , . crow, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , . ---- blackbird, i. , , . ----, carrion, i. , , , ; ii. , . ----, fish, ii. , . ---- fort, ii. , , . ---- indians, ii. , , , , , . "crow-feather" (boat), i. . cruden, alexander, i. . cruikshank, george, ii. . cuba, i. ; ii. , . cuckoo, i. , . cuckoo, black-billed, ii. . culbertson, alexander, , i. ; ii. , ; , . ----, mrs. alexander, ii. , , , , , , , , , . cumberland, i. . ---- isle, ii. . ---- river, ii. . cummings, capt. samuel, i. , ; ii. . curlew, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , . ----, esquimaux, i. , . _see also_ numenius borealis. ----, labrador, i. . ----, long-billed, i. . ----, rose-colored, ii. . curlew-berry, i. . currie, w. w., i. , . cushat, i. . cutting, mr., i. , , ; ii. , . cuvier, baron, i. , , - , , - , , , , , , , . ----, baroness, i. , , . ----, mlle., i. , - , . cymochorea leucorrhoa, i. . da costa, i. , - , , , . dakota river, i. . dalmahoy castle, i. , , . damelaphus hemionus, i. . darlington, i. . dauphine st., new orleans, i. . david, jacques louis, i. , , , , ; ii. , . davy, messrs., i. . day, capt. robert, ii. , . dearman, mr., i. . decatur, i. . deer, i. , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , - , - , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , . ----, black-tailed, i. ; ii. , , , , , . ----, long white-tailed, ii. , , , , . ----, mule, i. ; ii. . ----, virginia, i. ; ii. . deer-hunting, ii. , . de tabelay, lord, i. . delano, captain, i. . "delos" (ship), i. , , , ; ii. , . denig, edwin f., ii. , , , , , , , , , , , - . dennysville, me., i. , , , ; ii. , . derby, i. , . ----, earl of, i. , , - , , , . derbyshire, i. , . derwent river, i. , . d'essling, prince, i. , . detaillé, françois, ii. . devonshire, duke of, i. . dexter's lake, ii. . dickie, mrs., i. , , , , , , . didelphis virginiana, ii. . d'issy, i. . diver, ii. . ----, black-necked, i. . ----, great northern, i. . ----, red-necked, i. , , , , , . ----, red-throated, i. , , . dockray, mr., i. , , . dodo, ii. . _dog and pheasants_, i. . dog, esquimaux, i. , ; ii. . ----, prairie, i. . _see also_ arctomys ludovicianus. dolphin, i. - , , , , ; ii. - . don, david, i. . donkin, john, i. , , . dood, major, i. . d'or, cape, i. . d'orbigny, charles, i. , . dorion. _see_ durion. douglass, lady isabella, i. , . dove, i. , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , . dover, i. , . ---- castle, i. . drake, dr., i. , . dripps, major andrew, i. . drury lane theatre, i. . dublin, i. . duck, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ----, black, ii. . ----, canvas-back, i. ; ii. . ----, dusky, i. . ----, eider, i. , - , , , , , , ; ii. . ----, gadwall, i. ; ii. , , . ----, golden-eyed, i. . ----, harlequin, i. . ----, king, i. . ----, labrador, i. . ----, long-tailed, i. . ----, mallard, i. , ; ii. , , , . ----, pied, i. . ----, scoter, i. , , , . ----, spoon-billed, ii. . ----, summer, ii. . ----, surf, i. . ----, velvet, i. , , , . ----, wild, i. ; ii. , . ----, wood, i. , ; ii. . duddingston, i. . dumesnil, c., i. . dunbar, i. . duncan, andrew, i. , , . dupuy gaudeau, gabriel, i. , . durack, john, i. . durham, eng., i. . durion, i. . eagle, i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , . ----, andean, i. . ----, bald, i. , . ----, golden, ii. , , . ----, white-headed, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , . _eagle and lamb_, i. , . eastham, i. . eastport, me., i. , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , . ebbett's island, ii. . École militaire, i. . edinburgh, i. , , , , - , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , - , , - , , , . edinburgh academy of arts. _see_ academy of arts, edinburgh. edinburgh antiquarian society. _see_ antiquarian society, edinburgh. edinburgh review, i. , . edward, prince, i. . edwardsville, i. , . eel, i. . eel river, ii. , . egan, pilot, ii. , . eggers, i. , . egleston, thomas, i. . egret, peale's, ii. . elgin, earl of, i. , , . elk, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , - , , , , , , , , - , - , , . elk-horns, i. , , , ; ii. , . elk point, ii. . elliot, daniel g., i. , . emanuel creek, i. . emberiza bairdii ii. . ---- le conteii, i. . ---- orizivora, ii. . ---- pallida, i. , , , ; ii. . ---- shattuckii, i. , , . emery, capt., i. , . "emily christian" (steamboat), i. . empetrum nigrum, i. . england, i. - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . entrée bay, i. . epsom, i. . ereunetes pusillus, i. . esquimaux, ii. . europe, i. , ; ii. , . evans, roland, i. , . ewart, miss, i. . exeter exchange, i. . _expedition of lewis and clark_, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , . falco, i. . ---- auduboni, i. . ---- columbarius, i. , , . _see also_ hawk, pigeon. ---- gyrfalco obsoletus, i. . ---- harlani, i. . ---- islandicus, i. . ---- labradoria, i. . ---- leucocephalus, i. . ---- temerarius, i. . falcon, i. , . ----, labrador, i. . ----, peregrine, i. , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . false river, ii. . "fancy, the" (boat), ii. , . fatland ford, i. , , , , , , , , . _fauna americana_, i. ; ii. . featherstonehaugh, mr., i. . felton, i. . fénelon, françois, abbé, ii. . ferguson, dr., ii. . fetter lane, i. . fiesque, i. . _fifty years in both hemispheres_, nolte's, ii. . finch, i. , , , , ; ii. , . ----, arctic ground, ii. . ----, ground, i. ; ii. . ----, harris, i. , , , , , , , . ----, lark, i. . ----, lazuli, ii. , , , , , , , . ----, lincoln's, i. , , , . _see also_ fringilla lincolnii. ----, mountain, i. . ----, red-collared, ii. . ----, savannah, i. , , , , , , . ----, white-crowned, i. , . ----, white-throated, i. . fish river, ii. . fisher, miers, i. , . fitzwilliam, lord, i. . flamingo, ii. , . flat lake, i. . flicker, ii. . ----, red-shafted, ii. . flint, mr., ii. , , , . florida, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ----, cape, ii. . ----, east, i. ; ii. , , - , . ----, keys, i. ; ii. , , , . ----, south, ii. . florisson, i. . floyd, serg. charles, i. . ---- memorial association, i. . floyd's bluff, i. . ---- creek, i. . ---- grave, ii. . flycatcher, i. , ; ii. . ----, arkansas, i. , , ; ii. , , , . ----, bluegray, i. , . ----, bonaparte's, i. . ----, green blackcapped, i. , . ----, hooded, i. . ----, pewee, ii. , . ----, red-eyed, i. . ----, say's, i. , , ; ii. , , , , . ----, small-crested, ii. . ----, white-crested, i. . flying fish, ii. - . fontenelle, lucien, i. . foote, maria, i. , , . fort alexander, ii. , . ---- berthold, i. . ---- calhoun, i. . ---- clark, ii. , , , , , . ---- croghan, i. ; ii. , . ---- george, i. - ; ii. , . ---- leavenworth, i. , ; ii. , . ---- massacre, ii. , . ---- mckenzie, ii. , , , , , , . ---- mortimer, ii. , - , , , , , , - , , , , - , , , . ---- pierre, i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , . ---- recovery, i. . ---- rice, ii. . ---- union, ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ---- vermilion, i. ; ii. . ---- yates, ii. . four bears (chief), ii. . fox, i. , , ; ii. , , , , , , . ----, black, i. , , . ----, cross, i. ; ii. . ----, gray, ii. . ----, kit. _see_ fox, swift. ----, prairie, ii. . ----, red, i. , ; ii. , . ----, silver, i. . ----, swift, ii. , , , , , , . ----, dr. charles, i. , . ---- indians, i. . ---- river, ii. , . fox-hunter, ii. . france, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . franconi, i. . frankfort, kentucky, ii. , . frankland, captain, ii. , . frascati, i. . fraser, james b., i. . fratercula arctica, i. . frederick, ii. . fredericton, ii. , . french creek, ii. . ---- revolution, i. . frigate-bird, ii. . fringilla, i. . ---- acanthis linaria, i. . ---- harrisii, i. , , ; ii. , . ---- linaria, i. . ---- lincolnii, i. , , , , . _see also_ finch, lincoln's. ---- leucophyrs, i. , . ---- nivalis, i. . ---- querula, i. . ---- savanna, i. . frith of forth, i. , , , . fuligula americana, i. . _see also_ duck, scoter. ---- glaciales, i. . ---- histrionica, i. , . fulmar, i. . fundy, bay of, i. , , , ; ii. , - . fur and fish company, i. , , . fur company, american. _see_ american fur company. gallatin, albert, mr. and mrs., i. . gallinule, ii. , . galt, w. c., m.d., ii. . galveston, i. . gannet, i. , , , , , - , , , , ; ii. . ----, brown, ii. . ---- rocks, i. . gar-fish, ii. . garnier, mr., ii. - . gasconade river, i. ; ii. . gaspé, cape, i. . gates, major, ii. . gauché (chief), ii. . gavia imber, i. . ---- lumme, i. . geomys, bursarius, i. , . george, cape, i. . ---- street, edinburgh, i. , . georgia, i. ; ii. . gérard, françois, i. , , , . german ocean, i. , . gilpin's mills, i. . glasgow, missouri, ii. . glasgow, scotland, i. , , , , , , . ---- hotel, i. . "gleaner, the" (ship), i. - . goat, ii. . goat-pen creek, ii. . goddard, rev. william, i. , , . godwit, ii. , , . ----, tell-tale, i. , , , , . goldfinch, i. . goose, i. , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , - , . ----, canada, i. , . ----, hutchins', ii. . ----, snow, i. . ----, white-fronted, i. . ----, wild, i. , . gopher, i. , , ; ii. . ----, pocket, i. . ---- hills, i. , . gordon, alexander, i. , , . goshawk, i. . grackle. _see_ grakle. graham, robert, i. , . grakle, i. . ----, boat-tailed, ii. . ----, rusty, ii. . grand banks, i. . ---- falls, ii. . ---- menan, i. , ; ii. . ---- prix, i. . ---- river, i. , ; ii. . "grand town," i. . grande isle, ii. . grant, mrs. anne, i. . grasswrack, ii. . gray, john e., i. . great bend, i. ; ii. , . ---- cedar island, i. . ---- egg harbor, i. . _great egg harbor_, ii. . great falls, ii. , . ---- pine swamp, i. , . _great pine swamp_, ii. . great russell street, london, i. , . grebe, i. , . green bank, i. , , - , , , - , , - , , , , , . ---- lake, i. . ---- river, i. ; ii. , , , , , , , . greenough, horatio, i. . greenville, ii. . greenwood, rev. henry, i. . gregg, helen, i. . ----, john, i. . ----, robert h., i. . ----, samuel, i. , , , , , , , , , , , . ----, mrs. samuel, i. , . greville, robert kaye, i. . griseo albus, i. . grosbeak, ii. , , . ----, black-headed, i. ; ii. . ----, blue, i. . ----, cardinal, i. ; ii. . ----, evening, i. . ----, rose-breasted, i. . ----, pine, i. , , . gros ventres indians, ii. , - , - , , , , , , , , , . ground-hog, i. , . grouse, i. , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , . ----, canada, i. , . ----, rock, i. . ----, ruffed, i. . ----, sage, ii. . ----, sharp-tailed, ii. , , , , , , , , , , . ----, willow, i. , , , ; ii. . ----, wilson's, i. . "growler," ii. , . guillemot, i. , - , , , , ; ii. , - , . ----, black, i. , , . ----, brindled, i. . ----, foolish, i. , , - , . gulf stream, i. . gulf weed, i. . gull, i. , , , , - , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , . ----, black-headed, i. , , , , , . ----, great black-backed, i. , , . ----, herring, i. , . _see also_ larus argentatus. ----, ring-billed, i. , . ----, rose-breasted, ii. . ----, silvery, i. . "gulnare" (ship), i. , , , - , , - , , , . gwathway's hotel, i. . gyrfalcon, i. . haines, reuben, i. . haliaëtus leucocephalus, i. , . halibut, ii. . halifax, i. , , , - . ---- bay, i. . ----, bishop of, i. . ---- river, ii. , . hall, basil, i. , , , , , - , , , , , , , , . ----, mrs. basil, i. , , , . ----, caroline, i. . ----, ellen, i. . ----, james, edinburgh, i. , , . ----, james, new york, i. , . hamilton, major, i. , . ----, sir william, i. . hampstead, i. . hardwick, i. . hardwicke, lord, i. . hare, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , . ----, bachman's, i. . ----, prairie, i. , . ----, townsend's, i. , ; ii. , , , , , . _see also_ lepus townsendii. ----, white, i. . harelda hiemalis, i. . harlan, richard, i. , , , , ; ii. , . harlem, ii. . harper's ferry, ii. . harpy, i. . harris, edward, i. , , , , , , , , , , , ; companion on missouri trip, i. - ; ii. , . harrisburg. _see_ harrisonburg. harrisonburg, ii. . hartford, eng., i. . harvey, primeau and co., ii. . hatch, capt. joseph, i. , , ; ii. , . havana, ii. . havell, robert, i. , - , , , , , , , , , , , - , . haw creek, ii. . hawick, i. . hawk, i. , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , . ----, cooper's, i. . ----, fish, i. , ; ii. , , , , . ----, fork-tailed, i. . ----, great-footed, i. . ----, marsh, i. , , , . hawk, pigeon, i. , , , , , ; ii. . _see also_ falco columbarius. ----, red-tailed, i. , ; ii. . ----, sparrow, i. ; ii. , . ----, swallow-tailed, i. . ----, white-rumped, ii. , . _hawk and partridges_, i. . hawkins, oriel college, i. , . hays, drummond, i. , , , , , , , , , . head harbor bay, ii. . healy, george p. a., i. . heart river, ii. . heath, charles, i. . heath, george, i. , . heights of abraham, i. . hell gate, i. . henderson, ky., i. , , - , , , , , ; ii. , - , , - , , , , . henley harbor, i. . henry, alexander, i. . ----, andrew, ii. . ----, charles, m.d., i. , . henslow, john stevens, i. , . herbe sainte, ii. . hermandez, general, ii. . hermann bros., i. . heron, i. , , ; ii. , , , , - , , , , , . ----, blue, i. , , , , , ; ii. . ----, great blue, i. . ----, green, i. . ----, night, ii. . ----, yellow-crowned, i. . herring, i. ; ii. , . hibbert, dr., i. . highland creek, ii. . ---- lick, ii. . ---- lick creek, ii. . highwater creek, i. . hirundo bicolor, i. . hobart, william, i. . hodgson, adam, i. - , - , . ----, mary, i. . holland, dr. henry, i. . holyrood, i. - . honda, bay of, ii. . hondekoeter, melchior, i. . hopkinsville, ii. . horsfield, i. . hotel robart, i. . houlton, me., ii. , . howe, gen. william, i. . hudson river, i. , , . hudson's bay, i. . ---- bay co. i. , ; ii. . hull, i. . hulme, dr., i. , , . humboldt, alexander von, i. , . humming-bird, i. , , ; ii. . hunt, w. h., i. . hunter, lady, i. , , , . ibis, i. , , , , , - , . ---- alba, ii. , . ile à vaches, i. . illingsworth, mr., i. - ; ii. . illinois, i. , . ---- river, ii. . independence, i. . ---- landing, ii. . indian affairs, ii. . ---- isle, ii. , , . ---- key, ii. , , . ---- river, ii. . indians, i. , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , - , - , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , - , - , - , , , , , , , - , - , , , , - , , , , - . _see also_ names of tribes. indigo-bird, i. , ; ii. . ingalls, william, i. , , , , , , , , , - ; ii. inglis, bishop, i. . ----, sir robert, i. , . innes, gilbert, i. , . institut français, i. , , . iowa, i. , , . ---- indians, i. , . ---- river, ii. . ipswich, i. , . ireland, i. . iridoprocne bicolor, i. . irish channel, i. . ----, jediah, i. ; ii. , . iron bear (chief), ii. . irving, washington, i. ; ii. , . ----, washington, _astoria_, i. , . irwell river, i. . isbet hill, i. . isis river, i. . islington road, i. . italian opera, i. . italians, i. . italy, i. . jackdaw, i. , , , , . jack-rabbit, i. . jacks river. _see_ jacques river. jackson, gen. andrew, i. . ----, miss, i. . jacques river, i. ; ii. . jager, i. ; ii. . _see also_ lestris. ---- pomarine, i. . _see also_ lestris pomarinus. jail, liverpool, i. . james river, i. . jameson, robert, i. , , , - , , , - , , , , , . jardin des plantes, i. , , . ---- du roi, i. , , , , , . ----, royal, i. . jardine hall, i. , . ----, sir william, i. , , , , , - , . jay, i. . ----, blue, i. , . ----, canada, i. , ; ii. . jefferson city, i. ; ii. . jeffrey, francis, i. , , . jersey, island of, i. . jestico island, i. . johnson, edward, i. . ----, garrett, i. . jones. mr., of labrador, i. - , . judd, capt. u.s.n., ii. . juniata river, ii. . juniperus virginianus, i. . kalmia angustifolia, i. . ---- glauca, i. . kansas, i. . katota tokah, i. . kauman and co., i. , . kayac, ii. . kelley, dr., i. , . kemble, charles, i. . kendal, i. . kennebunk, i. , . kensington gardens, i. . kentucky, i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , - , - , , , , - , - , . _kentucky barbecue_, ii. . kentucky barrens, ii. . kentucky river, ii. . kestrell, i. . key tavernier, ii. . ---- west, ii. - , , , , . kidd, john, m.d., i. , . ----, joseph b., i. , , , , - . kiener, l. c., i. . killdeer, i. , ; ii. . king-bird, i. , ; ii. , . kingfisher, i. , , ; ii. , , . kinglet, i. . king's college, i. . kinnoul, earl of, i. . kipp, mr., ii. , , , , , , , , , , , . kirkstall, abbey, i. . kite, mississippi, i. ; ii. . kittiwake, i. , . knife river, ii. , . knox, john, m.d., i. , , , . knoxville, ii. . la barge, joseph, i. , , . labrador, i. , , - ; ii. , , . labrus auritus, ii. . la charette, ii. . "lady of the green mantle" (boat), ii. , , . la fayette, marquis de, i. , , . la fleur, ii. , , , , - , , , - , , , , , , . la gerbetière, i. , , , . lagopus albus, i. . _see also_ ptarmigan. ---- rupestris, i. . ---- willow. la grande rivière, i. . laidlaw, william, i. , , ; ii. , , , . la main gauche (chief), ii. . lambert, aylmer bourke, ii. . lancaster, ii. . landsdowne, marquis of, i. . landseer, sir edwin, i. , . lapwing, i. , . la rivière blanche, i. . lark, i. , , ; ii. . ----, black-breasted prairie, ii. . ----, brown, i. , , . _see also_ anthus spinoletta. ----, chestnut-colored, i. . ----, finch, i. . lark, meadow, i. , , , , ; ii. , , , , , . ----, missouri, ii. . ----, prairie, ii. , . ----, shore, i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . _see also_ alauda alpestris. ----, sprague's, ii. , , , , . ----, wood, i. , , . la rochelle, i. , ; ii. . larpenteur, charles, ii. , , , , , , , , , . larus argentatus, i. , , . ---- argentatus smithsonianus, i. . ---- canus, i. . ---- delawarensis, i. , . ---- marinus, i. , - , , , , , , , , , , . _see also_ gull, great black-backed. ---- tridactylus, i. . ---- zonorhynchus, _see_ larus delawarensis. lasterie, comte de, i. . latimer, rev. james, i. . la vendée, i. . lawrence, sir thomas, i. , - , , , . "lawyer," ii. . l'eau bourbeux, ii. . ---- qui court, i. , ; ii. . "lebanon" (boat), ii. , . le boulet river, ii. . le brun, bernard, ii. , , , , , . l'école de musique, i. . leeds, i. - , , , . ---- natural history society. _see_ natural history society of leeds. ---- philosophical hall, i. . ---- public library, i. . lehigh river, ii. , - , . lehman, george, ii. . leicester, i. . leith, i. , . le mangeur d'hommes (chief), ii. . lepus artemisia, ii. . ---- campestris, i. , ; ii. . ---- nuttalli, ii. . ---- sylvaticus, i. ; ii. . ---- townsendii, i. ; ii. . _see also_ hare, townsend's. ---- virginianus, i. . leslie, john, i. . lesson, rené primevère, i. , . lestris, i. , , , . _see also_ jager. ---- pomarinus, i. , , . le sueur, charles alexandre, i. , , . levaillant, françois, i. , . levis, duc de, i. . lewis and clarke. _see_ expedition of lewis and clark. lexington, ky., ii. , . liberty landing, ii. . ---- st., new york, ii. . lincoln, thomas, ii. . ----, thomas, jr., i. ; companion in labrador, - , . linnæan society, london, i. , , , , , . linnæus, i. ; ii. . linnet, i. , . lint, i. . little chayenne river, i. . ---- knife river, ii. , . ---- medicine creek, i. . ---- missouri river, ii. , , , . ---- river, i. . ---- sioux river, i. ; ii. . live-oakers, ii. . liverpool, i. , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . ---- athenæum, i. . ---- blind asylum, i. , . ---- jail, i. . ---- literary society, i. . ---- philosophical society, _see_ philosophical society of liverpool. ----, royal institute of, _see_ royal institute of liverpool. lizard, red-throated, i. ; ii. . lizars, daniel, i. , , , , . ----, william h., i. - , - , - , - , , , - , , , , , , , , - , - , . ----, mrs. william h., i. , , , , , . lloyd, charles, i. , , . loch lomond, i. . loire river, i. , , , , . london, i. , , , , , , , , , , , - , - , - , , , , - , , , , , , , . ---- athenæum, i. . ----, linnæan society. _see_ linnæan society, london. londonderry, marquis of, i. . long, major s. h., i. , . longspur, chestnut-collared, ii. . ----, mccown's, ii. . loon, i. , , - , , ; ii . _lost one, the_, ii. . loudon, john claudius, i. , , . louis philippe, i. . louisiana, i. , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , . louisville, i. - , , , , , , , - , , , , , ; ii. - , , , , , , , , , , . l'ours de fer, ii. . ---- qui danse, ii. . louvre, i. , , . loxia leucoptera, i. . lubec, i. . luxemburg, i. . lynx, i. , ; ii. . lyon, david, i. . lyons, richard, m.d., i. , . macatine island, i. . ----, little, island, i. , . mccullough, dr., i. - . macgillivray, william, i. , , . ----, william, _british birds_. _see british birds._ mckenzie, kenneth, ii. , , . ----, owen, ii. , , , - , , - , - , , , , - , , - , , . mackerel, i. ; ii. , . mackinaw barge, i. ; ii. , , , , . macroura, i. . madison, thomas c., i. . magdalene islands, i. , , , , . magpie, i. , , , , , , ; ii. , , . maha indians, i. ; ii. . maine, i. , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , . mallory, daniel, i. . ----, georgiana r. _see_ audubon, mrs. v. g. mamelles, ii. - , . mammellaria vivipara, ii. . manatees, ii. . manchester, i. , , , , , , , - , - , , , , , , , , , , , , . manchester academy of natural history, i. , . manchester, royal institute. _see_ royal institute of manchester. mandan indians, i. ; ii. , , , - , , , . ---- village, ii. - , . mandeville, i. . mankizitah river, i. . manuel da lisa, i. . ---- river, i. ; ii. . _maple-sugar camp_, ii. . maria river, ii. , , . marignac, m. de, i. . marigny, marquis de mandeville, i. , . "marion" (boat), ii. - , - , , , . ----, mo., ii. . marmot, i. , , , . ----, prairie, i. ; ii. . mars hill, ii. . marshall, john, i. . marsh-hen, ii. , . marten, i. , , ; ii. . martin, i. , , , , ; ii. . ----, john, i. . ----, pine, ii. . ----, purple, i. . mason, major, i. . massachusetts, ii. . massena, prince of, i. , . matanemheag river, ii. . matanzas, ii. . matlock, i. , - . mauch chunk, i. ; ii. , - . maupin family, ii. . maury, mr., i. , , , . mauvaises terres, ii. , , , , , - , . maximilian, prince of wied, i. ; ii. , . _meadville_, i. ; ii. - . medicine horn, ii. . ---- knoll, i. . ---- lodge, ii. . meduxmekeag creek, ii. . medway river, i. . meetingford, i. . melly, a., i. , , , , , , . melospiza lincolni, i. , . mephitis americana, ii. . merganser, i. , . ----, red-breasted, i. , , , , , . mergus serrator, i. . _see also_ merganser, red-breasted. mersey river, i. , , , , , . merula migratoria, i. . _see also_ robin. mexico, gulf of, i. , , , , - , . michaux, jean baptiste, i. - , , , , ; ii. , , , , . mic-mac indians, i. ; ii. . microtus riparius, i. . mill grove, i. , , , , , , , - , , , ; ii. , . miller, major, ii. . mine river, i. . minnetaree indians, ii. , , . minniesland, i. , , ; ii. . miramichi, i. . mississippi, ii. . mississippi river, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. - , , , , - , , , - , , , . missouri, ii. . ----, falls of, i. . ---- indians, i. . ---- river, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ---- trading company, ii. . missouriopolis, i. . mitchell, major, i. ; ii. , . ----, david d., ii. . mitford, i. . ----, capt., i. , , , . ---- castle, . ---- hall, i. . mocking-bird, i. , , , , , , , . moncrévier, jean baptiste, ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , . monongahela river, ii. . monroe, mr., i. , - , , , , , , . montagnais indians, i. , , , . montgomery, general, i. . moorestown, i. . moose, ii. , . _moose hunt_, ii. . moreau river, i. , . morgantown, ii. . mormon arcticus, i. - , , - . _see also_ puffin. moroe river. _see_ moreau river. morpeth, i. , . morristown, n.j., i. . morton, countess of, i. , - , , , . ----, earl of, i. , - , , , . ----, major, ii. . ----, samuel george, i. . mother carey's chickens, i. , . mount desert island, i. . ---- pleasant, ii. . ---- vesuvius, ii. . mouse, ii. , . ----, field, i. . ---- river, ii. . moynette, anne, i. . mud island, i. . muddy river, i. ; ii. . mule keys, ii. , . muloë, i. . mulot, i. . murray, george, i. , , . ----, mrs. george, i. , . ----, isabella, i. . ----, james, ii. , . ----, john, i. . murre rocks, i. . mus leucopus, ii. . muscicapa, i. . ---- phoebe, i. . musée, français, i. , . musignano, prince of, i. , ; ii. , . muskrat, i. ; ii. , , . musquash lake, ii. . nantes, i. , , , , , , , , . napoleon. _see_ bonaparte. nashville, mo., ii. . nashville, tenn., ii. . natasquan river, i. , , , . ----, little, river, i. ; ii. . natchez, i. , , ; ii. , , , , . _natchez in _, ii. . natchitochez, ii. . natural bridge, ii. . natural history society, edinburgh, i. . natural history society, leeds, i. . "nautilus" (boat), ii. . nebraska, i. . neill, patrick, i. , , , , , , , . nelson, lord, i. . nemours, marquis de, i. . neotoma floridana, i. , . neville, miss, i. , , , . new bedford, i. , . new brunswick, i. , , ; ii. , , . ----, mo., ii. . new england, i. ; ii. . new jersey, i. ; ii. . new madrid, ii. . new orleans, i. , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , - , , , , - , , . new york, i. , - , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . new york academy of sciences, i. . newbold, rev. william, i. , . newcastle, i. , , , - , - , , , . ----, literary society, i. . ----, philosophical society, i. . newfoundland, i. , , , , , , ; ii. , . newgate, i. . _niagara_, ii. . nicholson, william, i. . nighthawk, ii. , , , . night-jar, i. . niobrara river, i. ; ii. . nishnebottana river, ii. . noddy, i. ; ii. , . nolte, vincent, i. , ; ii. , . ----, _fifty years in both hemispheres_, ii. . nonpareil, ii. . norristown, ii. . north carolina, i. ; ii. . north, christopher, i. . northampton, i. . northumberland, i. , . ----, duke of, i. . notre dame, i. . nova scotia, i. , , , , , ; ii. , . numenius borealis, i. , , . ----, hudsonicus, i. . nuthatch, i. . ----, red-bellied, i. . nuttall ornithological club, i. . ----, thomas, i. , , , ; ii. , , . oakes, william, i. . oedemia, i. . ---- deglaudi, i. . ogden, captain, ii. . ohio, ii. . _ohio, the_, ii. . ohio, falls of, i. ; ii. , , . ----, rapids of, ii. . ---- river, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. - , , , , , - , , , - , , , , , , , . old bull's backfat (chief), ii. . "old jostle," i. . old squaw, i. . old town, ii. , , . omaha indians, i. , , , , . ---- river, ii. . o'meara, barry edward, m.d., i. . "omega" (steamboat), i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . opelousas, ii. . opossum, ii. , , , . _opossum, the_, ii. . opposition fort, ii. , . ---- fur company, ii. , , , , , , , , , . ord, george, i. , . oriel college, i. . ----, provost of, i. . oriole, i. . ----, baltimore, i. , . ----, orchard, i. . orléans, duc d', i. , , , - , . ----, duchesse d' i. , , . _ornithological biography_, i. , - , , , , , , ; ii. , - , , . _ornithology_, bonaparte's, i. . ornithorynchus paradoxus, i. . osage indians, i. , , , , , . ---- river, ii. . otocorys alpestris, i. . otter, i. , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , . ottoe indians, i. . ouse river, i. , , . owl, i. , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , . ----, barred, ii. , , . ----, great gray, i. , ; ii. . ----, great horned, i. ; ii. , . oxford, i. , , , , , . oyster catcher, i. . page, benjamin, i. . ----, j. w. h., i. , . painboeuf, i. . "painter." _see_ panther. palais royal, i. , , , , . panthéon, i. . panther, i. , , . paris, i. , , , , , , , , - , - , - , , , - . parker, mr. (artist), i. , , - , - , , . parkman, george, m.d., i. ; ii. . parocket island, i. , . parrakeet, i. - , , , , ; ii. , . parroquet, i. . parrot, i. . parry, captain w. e., i. . partridge, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . ---- bay, i. , . parus hudsonicus, i. , , . passamaquoddy indians, ii. , . passerculus bairdi, ii. . pawling, david, i. . peale, rembrandt, i. ; ii. . ----, titian r. i. . peale's museum, ii. . pears, thomas, i. . peel, sir robert, i. . pelecanus americanus, i. . ---- erythrorhynchus, i. . ---- trathyrhynchus, i. . pelican, ii. , - , , , , , , . ---- frigate, i. , , ; ii. , , . ----, white, i. , , , , , , , ; ii. , . pennant, thomas, ii. . pennsylvania, i. , ; ii. , , , , . penobscot indians, ii. . ---- river, ii. - . penrith, i. . pentland hills, i. . perceval, spencer, i. . perch, white, ii. . percy, mrs. charles, i. , , . ----, marguerite, i. . perkiomen creek, i. , , , , , . petit caporal, i. . ---- côté, i. . petrel, i. - , - , . ---- dusky, i. . ---- stormy, i. . peucæa lincolnii, i. . pewee, i. , ; ii. , , . ----, crested, i. , . ----, fly-catcher, i. . ----, least, i. . ----, short-legged, i. . ----, western-wood, i. . ----, wood, i. , , . phalacrocorax carbo, i. , . ---- dilophus, i. , , . ---- dilophus floridanus, i. . ---- floridanus, i. . ---- mexicanus, i. . _see also_ cormorant. phalænoptilus nuttalli, ii. . phalarope, i. . ----, northern, i. . phalaropus hyperboreus, i. . pheasant, i. - , , , , , , ; ii. . philadelphia, i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , . ---- academy of natural sciences, i. , , , . philosophical society of liverpool, i. . phoebe, say's, ii. . pica pica hudsonica, i. . _see also_ magpie. picardy, i. . piccadilly, i. , . picotte, mr., i. - . pictou, i. , . picus ayresii, ii. . piegan indians, ii. - , . piercy, lieut., ii. . pigeon, carrier, i. . ---- creek, ii. . ----, migratory, i. . ----, passenger, i. ; ii. . ---- roost, ii. . ----, stock, i. , , . ----, white-headed, i. . ----, wild, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , , , . ---- wood, i. , . pillet, fabian, i. . pilot knob, ii. . pinckney, ii. . pine forest, ii. . pipilo arcticus, i. , . _pirate, the_, ii. . pitois, m., i. , . pittsburg, i. , , , , ; ii. , , , , . platibus, duck-billed, i. . platte river, i. , ; ii. , . pleasant bay, i. . plectrophenax nivalis, i. . plover, ii. . ----, american ring, i. , , . _see also_ charadrius semipalmatus. ----, black-breasted, i. . ----, golden, i. ; ii. . ----, piping, i. , . plum creek, i. . plymouth, i. , . pocano mountains, ii. . point-lepreaux, ii. . ---- harbor, ii. . pokioke river, ii. . _pole-cat_, ii. . pomme blanche, i. . pomotis vulgaris, ii. . poncas creek, i. . ---- island, i. ; ii. . ---- river, i. ; ii. . poncaras indians, i. . ponchartrain lake, i. . pont des arts, i. , . ---- d' austerlitz, i. . ---- de jena, i. . ---- neuf, i. . ---- ste. geneviève, i. . poor-will, ii. . pope, dr., i. , . ----, john, i. . porcher, dr., ii. . porcupine, i. , ; ii. , , , , , , . ----, canadian, ii. . ----, cape, i. . porpoise, i. , , , ; ii. , . ----, bottle-nosed, ii. . port eau, i. - . portage, baie de, i. . portland, i. . portobello, i. , . portsmouth, england, i. , . potowatamies, i. . _prairie, the_, i. . presque isle harbor, ii. . preston, england, i. . primeau. _see_ harvey, primeau and co. primeau, charles, ii. , , , . primrose hill, i. . procellaria, i. , . _see also_ mother carey's chickens. ----, wilsonii, i. . provan, dr., i. . provost (hunter), i. ; ii. , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , , , , , , , , - , , , , , - , , , . psaracolius cyanocephalus, ii. . pseudostoma bursarias, i. . _see also_ rat, pouched. psoralea esculenta, i. . ptarmigan, i. , , , , , , ; ii. , . ----, small, i. . ----, willow, i. . pueblo de taos, i. . puffin, i. , , , . _see also_ mormon arcticus. puncah. _see_ poncas. puncas. _see_ poncas. pusilla, i. . pyke, james, i. , . _quadrupeds of north america_, i. , , , , , , . quaglas, mr., i. . quarry bank, i. , , , , , , , , . quebec, i. , , , , , , , ; ii. . "queen bee," i. , , . _see also_ rathbone, mrs. william. querquedula discors, i. . qui court river, i. . quiscalus, brewerii, i. ; ii. . quoddy, maine, i. . rabbit, i. , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , - , . rabin, i. . raccoon, ii. , , , - , , , , . _raccoon hunt, a_, ii. . radcliffe library, i. . raffles, lady, ii. . rafinesque, constantine s., i. , . rail, virginian, i. . rainbow tavern, i. . ram mountain, ii. , , , , , , , . rampart river, i. . randell, maxon, ii. . randolph, judge john, i. , . rankin, dr., i. , , , . _rapacious birds of great britain_, macgillivray, i. . rapid river, i. . rat, ii. , , , . ----, norway, i. . ----, pouched, i. , , . rathbone, basil, i. . ----, benson, i. . ----, hannah [anna], i. , , - , , , , , . ----, richard, i. - , , . ----, mrs. richard, i. - , , . ----, william, jr., i. , , , , , , , , , , , , . ----, mrs. william, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . _see also_ "queen bee." ----, mrs. william, jr., i. , . ---- family, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . rathbone's flycatcher, i. . rattlesnake, i. , , , , . "rattlesnake" (boat), i. . raven, i. , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . recurvirostra americana, i. . redouté, pierre joseph, i. , , - , , , . redpolls, i. , , . ----, lesser, i. . red river, i. ; ii. , . red-fish, i. . redstart, american, i. , . redwing, i. . rees, colonel, ii. - . rees' lake, ii. , . regent's park, i. - , , , . regulators, ii. , . _regulators, the_, ii. , . regulus calendula, i. . reindeer, i. , ; ii. , . reuben's creek, i. . reynolds, william, m.d., i. . riccaree indians, ii. , , , , , , , , , , . richardson, major, i. . ----, john, i. ; ii. . riddell, sir james, i. . rikaras. _see_ riccaree indians. rikarees. _see_ riccaree indians. "ripley" (ship), i. , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , . ritchie, mr., i. , . rivière aux couteaux, ii. . roanoke river, i. . robertson, samuel, i. , . robin, i. , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , . rochambeau, jean baptiste, i. . rochefort, i. , , , . rocheport, mo., ii. . rochester, eng., i. . ----, n.y., i. . rocky mts., i. , , , , ; ii. , , , . ---- mts. fur trade, i. . roloje creek, ii. . rook, i. , , , , , , , . roscoe, edward, i. , , - , , . ----, william, i. , - , , , , , . ----, mrs. william, i. . ---- family, i. , , , , , , , . rose, mr., ii. - . _roses, les_, redouté's, i. . roslyn castle, i. , , . ---- chapel, i. . rotterdam, i. . royal academy, edinburgh, i. , , . ---- academy, london, i. . ---- institute, edinburgh, i. , . ---- institute, liverpool, i. - , , , , , , , . ---- institute of manchester, i. . ---- oak, i. , . ---- society of edinburgh, i. , , , . ---- society of london, i. , . rozier, ferdinand, i. , , , , , , ; ii. . rubus chamæmorus, i. . rudder-fish, i. ; ii. , , . _runaway, the_, ii. . running-water river, i. , . russell, michael, i. , . russellville, ii. . rutland arms, i. , . ---- cave, i. . ----, duke of, i. . rutter, dr., i. , . ruy's island, i. . sabine, sir edward, i. . sable, i. , , , ; ii. . ----, cape, i. ; ii. , . ---- d'olhonne; i. . sac indians, i. . st. albans, i. . st. andrew's church, edinburgh, i. . st. andrew's day, i. . st. augustine, ii. , , , . st. charles, mo., i. ; ii. . st. clair, mr., i. . st. cloud, i. , . st. croix river, i. . st. francisville, i. , , . st. geneviève, i. , , ; ii. , , . st. george's bay, i. ; ii. . st. george's channel, i. . st. hilaire, geoffroy de, i. , , , , . ----, isidore de, i. , , , . st. john's college, cambridge, i. . st. john's river, i. , ; ii. , - , - , , , . st. _john's river in florida_, ii. . st. joseph, i. . st. lawrence, gulf of, i. , , . st. louis, i. , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . st. mary's abbey, york, i. . st. mary's church, cambridge, i. . st. nazaire, i. . st. nicholas church, newcastle, i. , . st. omer, i. . st. paul's cathedral, i. . st. tammany parish, i. . salamander, ii. . salmon, i. , . ---- river, i. . sandford, major, i. . sandpiper, i. , ; ii. . ----, least, i. . ----, purple, i. . ----, rock. _see_ sandpiper, purple. ----, spotted, i. , , ; ii. , . ----, wilson's, i. . sandy island, ii. - . santa fé, i. , . santee indians, i. , . santo domingo, i. , - . sapinot, g. l., i. . sarpy, mr., i. - , , , . saskatchewan river, ii. . saunders, howard, i. . _sauve qui peut_, i. . savannah, i. . say, thomas, i. , , , , , . sayornis phoebe, ii. . "scapegrace." _see_ diver, red-necked. schoodiac lakes, ii. . schuylkill river, i. , , , , , ; ii. . _scipio and the bear_, ii. . sciurus aberti, i. . ---- audubonii, i. , . ---- capistratus, i. . ---- carolinensis, i. . ---- ludovicianus, i. , . ---- macrourus, i. , , , , . ---- magnicaudatus, i. . ---- niger, i. . ---- occidentalis, i. . ---- rubicaudatus, i. . ---- rufiventer, i. . ---- sayii, i. . ---- subauratus, i. . scolecophagus carolinus, ii. . ---- cyanocephalus, i. ; ii. . scoter, white-winged, i. . scotland, i. , , , , , , , ; ii. . scott, anne, i. , , . ---- house, i. . ----, sir walter, i. , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , . scottish society of arts, i. , , . "sea parrot." _see_ mormon. sea-cow, ii. . sea-eagle, ii. . sea-gull, ii. . ----, white-breasted, ii. . seal, i. , , , ; ii. , , . seal-catcher, i. . seal-fishing, i. , . seal island, i. . seal oil, i. . ----, wild turkey, i. . seboois lake, ii. . sedgwick, adam, i. - . seine river, i. , , , . selby, prideaux john, i. , - , , , - , , , , - , , , . selby family, i. , , . selkirk, lord, i. , . seminole indians, ii. , , . sergeant, e. w., i. , , , , , , . severn river, i. , . shark, i. , ; ii. , . ----, basking, i. . shattuck, george c., i. , , , , , , , , , , ; ii. . shawanee, i. , , ; ii. . ---- indians, i. . sheeps-head, ii. , . shewash river, ii. . shippingport, i. , , , - , ; ii. , , , , . shrewsbury, eng., i. - . shrike, ii. . ----, loggerhead, ii. . sick-e-chi-choo, ii. . "siffleurs." _see_ marmots. silver hills, ii. . siméon, vicomte, i. , , . simmons, dr., ii. . sioux city, i. . ---- indians, i. , , , , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , . ---- pictout river, i. . sire, joseph a., i. , , , , , ; ii. , . siskin, i. , , ; ii. . sismondi, jean c. l., i. , . six-trees (camp), i. ; ii. . skene, w. f., i. , , , . skinner, john stuart, ii. . skunk, i. . skylark, i. ; ii. . small-pox, ii. . smet, father p. j. de, i. , . smith, lieut. constantine, ii. . ----, gideon b., i. , ; ii. , . ----, sydney, i. - , . smyth, william, i. . snipe, i. . ----, solitary, i. . snow-bird, i. . snyders, francis, i. . society of natural history, boston, i. . soldier river, ii. . somerset house, i. . south carolina, i. . south dakota, i. . spanish fort, ii. . "spark" (boat), ii. - . sparr point, i. . sparrow, chipping, i. . ----, field, i. . ----, fox-colored, i. , . ----, fox-tailed, i. , . ----, lincolnii, i. . ----, song, i. , . ----, swamp, i. , , . ----, white-crowned, i. - , , , , . ----, white-throated, i. , , , , . sparrow-hawk, i. ; ii. . spence, dr. william, i. . spermophile, ii. , . ----, federation, ii. . spermophilus hoodii, ii. , , , . ---- tridecem-lineatus, ii. . ---- tridecem-pallidus, ii. . spizella brewerii, i. , . "split cape," i. . sprague, isaac, i. ; assistant on missouri river trip, i. - ; ii. - , . spreading water, i. . _spring garden_, ii. . spring garden creek, ii. , . square hills, ii. . squatters of labrador, i. . _squatters of labrador_, ii. . squires, lewis, i. , ; secretary on missouri river trip, i. - ; ii. - , . squirrel, i. , ; ii. , , , - , , , . ----, abert's, i. . ----, black, i. , , . ----, catesby's black, i. . ----, flying, i. . ----, fox, i. . ----, gray, i. - , , , , ; ii. , . ----, ground, ii. , . ----, long-tailed, ii. , . ----, red, i. ; ii. . ----, western fox, i. , . stanford, lord, i. , , . stanley, lord. _see_ derby, earl of. starling, i. , , , , , . ----, red-winged, i. ; ii. . stateford, i. . steen (or stein), mr., i. . stercorarius pomarinus, i. . sterna fosteri, i. . ---- havelli, i. . ---- hirundo, i. , , , . ---- regia, i. . ---- shegrava, i. . stewart, dugald, i. . stockport, i. . stokoe, baron, m.d., i. . stow, i. . strobel, benjamin, m.d., ii. , . stuart, sir william, i. . sturnella neglecta, i. , . sublette, william, and co., ii. , . sula bassana, i. . sullivan's bridge, i. . sully, robert, i. , . ----, thomas, i. , , , , , , . _sun perch, the_, ii. . sussex, duke of, i. . swainson, william, i. , , - , , - , , , , , , , , , . ----, mrs. william, i. , , , , . swallow, i. ; ii. . ----, bank, i. , , , , . ----, barn, i. , ; ii. . ----, chimney, i. . ----, cliff, i. , ; ii. , , . ----, greenbacked, i. , , . ----, house, i. , ; ii. , . ----, martin, i. . ----, republican, i. . ----, rough-winged, i. , , ; ii. . ----, white-bellied, i. . swan, i. , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , . swift, i. . "swiftsure" (boat), ii. , . sword-fish, i. . sylvia parus, ii. . ---- roscoe, i. . ---- striata, i. . sylvicola [dendroeca] maculosa, i. . syme, john, i. , , , , . tachycinata bicolor, i. . tah-tah, ii. . talbot, isham, i. . tamias, ii. , . ---- quadrivittatus, ii. . tanager, red, i. . tarascon family, i. , , , ; ii. . tarascon's mills, ii. . tawapatee bottom, i. , ; ii. , . taylor, mr., ii. . ----, james i., i. . ----, john, d.d., i. . teal, blue-winged, i. , , ; ii. , , . ----, green-winged, ii. . temminck, c. t., i. , , . tennessee, i. , . tern, i. , , ; ii. , , . ----, arctic, i. , , , , . ----, black, i. ; ii. . ----, caspian, i. . ----, cayenne, i. , , . ----, foster's, i. . ----, great, i. , , , . ----, havell's, i. . ----, sooty, i. . teton river, i. - . tetrao canadensis, i. , . ---- [bonasa] umbellus, i. . ---- umbellus, i. . texas, i. , , . thalassidroma, i. . "thalia" (boat), i. . thames river, i. . théâtre français, i. . thomas, william, i. , . ----, mrs. william, i. . thompson's creek, i. . thomson, anthony todd, i. , , . ----, thomas, i. . thrasaëtos harpyia, i. . thrush, i. , , , , ; ii. . ----, black, i. . ----, ferruginous, i. . ----, golden-crowned, i. , . ----, hermit, i. , . ----, red, i. , ; ii. . ----, tawny, i. , , . ----, water, i. , . _see also_ turdus aquaticus. ----, wilson's water, i. . ----, wood, i. , , , , , , ; ii. . thruston, mr., ii. , . "tinkers." _see_ alca torda. titian, vecellio, i. . titlark, ii. . titlark, brown, i. . titmouse, i. ; ii. . ----, black-headed, i. , . ----, canada, i. , . ----, hudson's bay, i. . tittenhanger green, i. , , . todd, john, i. . ----, thomas, i. . toledo, general, i. . tomlinson, mr., i. . tongue river, i. . tortugas, ii. , , - . totanus macularius, i. , . townsend, j. k., i. ; ii. . trade water river, ii. . traill, thomas s., i. , , , , , , - , , , , , , , . "trapper" (steamboat), i. - ; ii. , . travers lake, ii. . trenton, i. . tringa, i. , , . ---- [acto-dromas] minutilla, i. . ---- arquatella maritima, i. . ---- maritima, i. . ---- minutilla, i. . ---- pusilla, i. , . trinidad, i. , . trinity, illinois, i. , ; ii. , . ---- chapel, cambridge, i. . ---- church cemetery, i. . ---- college, cambridge, i. . troglodytes bewickii, i. . ---- ludovicianus, i. . trollope, mrs. frances, i. . troupial, yellow-headed, i. , , , , . trudeau, dr., i. . truro, i. . tuileries, jardins de, i. , , , , . turdus aquaticus, i. . _see also_ thrush, water. ---- migratorius, i. . turkey, wild, i. , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , - , ; ii. - , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , . turner, rev. william, i. , , . turtle, ii. - , - . ----, green, ii. - . ----, hawk-billed, ii. , , , . ----, loggerhead, ii. - . ----, trunk, ii. , , . _turtlers, the_, ii. . tuskar rock, i. . twizel house, i. , , . tyne river, i. , , - . tyrannula richardsonii, i. . tyrolese singers, i. . "union" (boat), ii. , . united states, i. , , , ; ii. , , , , , . united states congress, i. , , . university of cambridge, i. . university of edinburgh, i. , . upper knife river, ii. . uria grylle, i. , . ---- ringvia, i. . ---- troile, i. , , , , , , . urinator imber, i. . ---- lumme, i. , . vâcher, baron, i. , . valenciennes achille, i. , , . valéry, m., i. , . valley forge, i. , , . vanconnah swamp, ii. . van praët, joseph basile, i. . vaux, james, i. . veras, colonel, i. . vermilion river, i. , , ; ii. . versailles, i. , . vespertilio subulatus, i. . vestris, madam, i. . viarme, place de, nantes, i. . viellot, françois, i. , . vigors, nicholas aylward, i. - , , , , , . vincennes, ii. . vireo, i. , . ---- bellii, i. . ----, bell's, i. , . ---- warbling, i. . ----, white-eyed, i. . virginia, ii. , , , , , . virginians, i. ; ii. , , . vivien, admiral, i. . voltaire, françois, m.a., i. . vulpes fulvus macrourus, ii. . ---- macrourus, ii. , . ----, utah, ii. , . _see also_ fox, red. vultur atratus, i. . vulture, i. , , , , ; ii. , - , , , , . wagtail, i. . wales, i. , , . walker, sir patrick, i. . wallaghasquegantook lake, ii. . waller, sir walter, i. . wananri river, i. . wansbeck river, i. . wapiti, i. . "war eagle" (boat), i. . warbler, i. , , , , , ; ii. , , . ----, black and yellow, i. . ----, blackburnian, i. . ----, black-capped, i. , , , , . ----, black-poll, i. , , . ----, blue-eyed, i. . ----, blue-winged, i. . ----, blue yellow-eyed, i. . ----, cerulean, i. , . ----, children's, i. . ----, cuvier's, i. . ----, hemlock, ii. . ----, kentucky, i. , . ----, mourning, i. . ----, nashville, i. . ----, pale, i. . ----, red-breasted, i. . ----, vigor's, i. . ----, yellow, i. . ----, yellow-rumped, i. , , . ----, yellow-winged, i. . ward, j. f., i. . washinga sabba. _see_ blackbird (chief). washington, d.c., i. , . ----, george, i. , , . ----, miss., i. . ----, mo., ii. . ----, penn., i. . wassataquoik river, ii. . waterloo hotel, i. . waterloo place, i. . waterton, charles, i. , , . watson, i. . weak-fish, ii. . wear river, i. . webster, j. w., i. . weiss, charles n., i. , , , . wells, maine, i. . wernerian society, edinburgh, i. , , , , , , , , , , . west, benjamin, i. . west indies, i. . ---- point, i. . weterhoo river, i. . wetherill, john macomb, i. . ----, samuel, i. , . ----, w. h., i. , . whale, i. , . whapatigan, ii. . wheeling, virginia, i. , ; ii. . whewell, william, i. - . whip-poor-will, i. , , , ; ii. , , . "white cloud" (boat), i. . white cow (chief), ii. . ---- earth river, i. ; ii. , . ---- head island, ii. , . ---- horse inn, i. . ---- paint creek, i. . _white perch, the_, ii. . white river, i. ; ii. , . whitestone river, i. . wied, prince of, i. ; ii. . wilberforce, william, i. . wilcomb, captain, i. , . wild cat, i. , ; ii. , , . _wild horse, a_, ii. . willet, i. . williams, w. h., i. , . wilson, alexander, i. , , , , , , , , ; ii. , , . ----, james, i. , , . ----, john, i. , , , , , , , . wimpole street, london, i. . winchester, ii. . windsor, nova scotia, i. , ; ii. . ---- castle, i. . ---- river, i. . witham, henry, i. , , . "wizard" (boat), i. , . wolf, i. , , , , , , , , , - , , , - , - , , , - ; ii. , , , , , - , - , , , - , , , , - , , , , - , - , - , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , - , , - , , , , , , , , , , , - , , - . ----, american, i. . ----, buffalo, i. . ----, gray, ii. - . ----, prairie, i. , , ; ii. , . ----, timber, i. . ----, white, i. ; ii. , . wolf island, ii. . ---- pit, ii. . wood, george w., i. . woodchuck, i. . woodcock, i. , . woodcroft, i. , , , , . wood-duck, ii. , , . woodpecker, i. , , , , , ; ii. . ----, downy, i. . ----, golden-winged, i. , ; ii. , . ----, green, i. . ----, hairy, i. . ----, ivory-billed, ii. . ----, pileated, ii. , . ----, red-bellied, i. . ----, red-cheeked, ii. , . ----, red-headed, i. , ; ii. . ----, red-patched, ii. . ----, red-shafted, i. , ; ii. , , , , , , , . ----, three-toed, i. , . ----, variegated, i. . woodruff's lake, ii. . wood's bluffs, i. . ---- hills, i. . woodstock, i. ; ii. , . woodville, i. . wreckers, ii. , , . _wreckers of florida_, ii. . wren, i. . ----, golden-crested, i. . ----, house, i. , , , , ; ii. . ----, marsh, i. . ----, rock, ii. , , , , . ----, ruby-crowned, i. , , . ----, short-billed marsh, ii. , . ----, winter, i. , ; ii. . wrexham, i. . yankton river, i. . yazoo river, ii. . yellow-bird, summer, ii. . yellow-legs, ii. . yellow-shanks, i. . yellow-throat, maryland, i. , ; ii. . yellowstone river, i. , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , . york, i. , , , , , , , . ---- minster, i. , . ---- museum, i. . ---- philosophical society, i. . yucca, ii. . zanesville, ii. . zonotrichia, i. . zonotrichia querula, i. . zoölogical gardens, i. , , , , . _zoölogical journal_, london, i. . zoölogical society of london, i. , , , ; ii. . zostera marina, ii. . the facsimiles of the diplomas which follow are taken from a few of the very many which audubon received from the scientific societies of europe and america. unfortunately, among the many which the repeated fires have destroyed was that of the royal society of england. the letter announcing to audubon his election to that celebrated society, the highest honor he received, is therefore substituted, with the signature of sir (formerly captain) edward sabine, the arctic explorer. the diplomas given are: la société linnéenne de paris. novembre, . lyceum of natural history, new york. january , . société d'histoire naturelle de paris. decembre, . american academy of arts and sciences, massachusetts. november , . royal society of edinburgh. march . . royal jennerian society, london. july , . literary and historical society of quebec. november , . western academy of natural sciences, st. louis, mo. april , . natural history society of montreal. march , . [illustrations: facsimiles of diplomas] transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_. audubon and his journals [illustration] audubon and his journals by maria r. audubon with zoÖlogical and other notes by elliott coues volume i. new york charles scribner's sons _copyright, _, by charles scribner's sons. university press: john wilson and son cambridge, u.s.a. in loving memory of my father, john woodhouse audubon, and of his love and admiration for his father, john james audubon, this book was written. preface it is customary at the close of a preface to make some acknowledgment of the services rendered by others in the preparation of a volume; but in my case this aid has been so generous, so abundant, and so helpful, that i must reverse the order of things and begin by saying that my heartiest thanks are due to the many who have assisted me in a work which for many years has been my dream. without the very material aid, both by pen and advice, of dr. elliott coues, these pages would have lost more than i care to contemplate. all the zoölogical notes are his, and many of the geographical, besides suggestions too numerous to mention; moreover, all this assistance was most liberally given at a time when he personally was more than busy; and yet my wishes and convenience have always been consulted. next to the memory of my father, mr. ruthven deane has been the motive power which has caused this volume to be written. for many years he has urged me to attempt it, and has supplied me with some valuable material, especially regarding henderson. during the months that i have been working on much that i have felt incompetent to deal with, his encouragement has helped me over many a difficulty. to my sisters harriet and florence, and my cousin m. eliza audubon, i am especially indebted. the first and last have lent me of their choicest treasures; letters, journals, and other manuscripts they have placed unconditionally in my hands, besides supplying many details from other sources; and my sister florence has been my almost hourly assistant in more ways than i can specify. the arrangement of the papers and journals was suggested by the late dr. g. brown goode; and many names come to mind of friends who have helped me in other ways. among them are those of mr. w. h. wetherill, messrs. richard r. and william rathbone, my aunt, mrs. james hall, dr. arthur t. lincoln, mr. morris f. tyler, mr. joseph coolidge, rev. a. gordon bakewell, and mr. george bird grinnell. i wish also to say that without the loving generosity of my friend the late miss m. louise comstock, i should never have had the time at my command which i have needed for this work; and last, but by no means least, i thank my mother for her many memories, and for her wise criticisms. there came into my hands about twelve years ago some of these journals,--those of the missouri and labrador journeys; and since then others have been added, all of which had been virtually lost for years. the story of how i heard of some, and traced others, is too long to tell here, so i will only say that these journals have formed my chief sources of information. so far as has been possible i have verified and supplemented them by every means. researches have been made in san domingo, new orleans, and france; letters and journals have been consulted which prove this or that statement; and from the mass of papers i have accumulated, i have used perhaps one fifth. "the life of audubon the naturalist, edited by mr. robert buchanan from material supplied by his widow," covers, or is supposed to cover, the same ground i have gone over. that the same journals were used is obvious; and besides these, others, destroyed by fire in shelbyville, ky., were at my grandmother's command, and more than all, her own recollections and voluminous diaries. her manuscript, which i never saw, was sent to the english publishers, and was not returned to the author by them or by mr. buchanan. how much of it was valuable, it is impossible to say; but the fact remains that mr. buchanan's book is so mixed up, so interspersed with anecdotes and episodes, and so interlarded with derogatory remarks of his own, as to be practically useless to the world, and very unpleasant to the audubon family. moreover, with few exceptions everything about birds has been left out. many errors in dates and names are apparent, especially the date of the missouri river journey, which is ten years later than he states. however, if mr. buchanan had done his work better, there would have been no need for mine; so i forgive him, even though he dwells at unnecessary length on audubon's vanity and selfishness, of which i find no traces. in these journals, nine in all, and in the hundred or so of letters, written under many skies, and in many conditions of life, by a man whose education was wholly french, one of the journals dating as far back as , and some of the letters even earlier,--there is not one sentence, one expression, that is other than that of a refined and cultured gentleman. more than that, there is not one utterance of "anger, hatred or malice." mr. george ord and mr. charles waterton were both my grandfather's bitter enemies, yet one he rarely mentions, and of the latter, when he says, "i had a scrubby letter from waterton," he has said his worst. but the journals will speak for themselves better than i can, and so i send them forth, believing that to many they will be of absorbing interest, as they have been to me. m. r. a. contents volume i page introduction audubon the european journals. - the labrador journal. the missouri river journals. list of illustrations. vol. i. page audubon _frontispiece_ from the portrait by j. w. audubon, november, . mill grove mansion on the perkiomen creek from a photograph from w. h. wetherill, esq. fatland ford mansion, looking toward valley forge from a photograph from w. h. wetherill, esq. audubon's mill at henderson, ky. now owned by mr. david clark. john j. audubon from the miniature by f. cruikshank, published by robert havell, january , . mrs. audubon from the miniature by f. cruikshank, . audubon date unknown. from a daguerreotype owned by m. eliza audubon. audubon monument in trinity church cemetery, new york flycatchers. (_heretofore unpublished._) from a drawing made by audubon in , and presented to mrs. rathbone of green bank, liverpool. still in the possession of the rathbone family. from a pencil sketch of audubon drawn by himself for mrs. rathbone. now in the possession of mr. richard r. rathbone, glan-y-menai, anglesey. audubon in indian dress from a pencil sketch drawn by himself for miss rathbone, . now in the possession of mrs. abraham dixon (née rathbone), london, england. audubon from the portrait by henry inman. now in the possession of the family. facsimile of entry in journal eagle and lamb painted by audubon, london, . in the possession of the family. audubon from the portrait by george p. a. healy, london, . now in the possession of the boston society of natural history. victor gifford audubon from the miniature by f. cruikshank, . john woodhouse audubon from the miniature by f. cruikshank, . audubon from the portrait by john woodhouse audubon (about ). columba passerina (now columbigallina passerina terrestris), ground dove from the unpublished drawing by j. j. audubon, . facsimile of a page of the missouri river journal reduced one third. view on the missouri river, above great bend from a water-color drawing by isaac sprague. indian hatchet pipe carried by audubon during many of his journeys. audubon introduction in the brief biography of audubon which follows, i have given, i believe, the only correct account that has been written, and as such i present it. i am not competent to give an opinion as to the merits of his work, nor is it necessary. his place as naturalist, woodsman, artist, author, has long since been accorded him, and he himself says: "my enemies have been few, and my friends numerous." i have tried only to put audubon _the man_ before my readers, and in his own words so far as possible, that they may know what he was, not what others _thought_ he was. m. r. a. audubon the village of mandeville in the parish of st. tammany, louisiana, is about twenty miles from new orleans on the north shore of lake ponchartrain. here, on the plantation of the same name, owned by the marquis de mandeville de marigny, john james laforest audubon[ ] was born, the marquis having lent his home, in the generous southern fashion, to his friend admiral jean audubon, who, with his spanish creole wife, lived here some months. in the same house, towards the close of the last century, louis philippe found refuge for a time with the ever hospitable marigny family, and he named the beautiful plantation home "fontainebleau." since then changes innumerable have come, the estate has other owners, the house has gone, those who once dwelt there are long dead, their descendants scattered, the old landmarks obliterated. audubon has given a sketch of his father in his own words in "myself," which appears in the pages following; but of his mother little indeed is known. only within the year, have papers come into the hands of her great-grandchildren, which prove her surname to have been _rabin_. audubon himself tells of her tragic death, which was not, however, in the st. domingo insurrection of , but in one of the local uprisings of the slaves which were of frequent occurrence in that beautiful island, whose history is too dark to dwell upon. beyond this nothing can be found relating to the mother, whom audubon lost before he was old enough to remember her, except that in one of the family marigny told my father, john woodhouse audubon, then a boy of ten, who with his parents was living in new orleans, that she was "une dame d'une beauté incomparable et avec beaucoup de fierté." it may seem strange that nothing more can be found regarding this lady, but it is to be remembered these were troublous days, when stormy changes were the rule; and the roving and adventurous sailor did not, i presume, encumber himself with papers. to these circumstances also it is probably due that the date of audubon's birth is not known, and must always remain an open question. in his journals and letters various allusions are made to his age, and many passages bearing on the matter are found, but with one exception no two agree; he may have been born anywhere between and , and in the face of this uncertainty the date usually given, may , , may be accepted, though the true one is no doubt earlier. the attachment between audubon and his father was of the strongest description, as the long and affectionate, if somewhat infrequent letters, still in the possession of the family, fully demonstrate. when the admiral was retired from active service, he lived at la gerbétière in france with his second wife, anne moynette, until his death, on february , , at the great age of ninety-five. in this home near the loire, audubon spent his happy boyhood and youth, dearly beloved and loving, and receiving the best education time and place afforded. as the boy grew older and more advantages were desired for him, came absences when he was at school in la rochelle and paris; but la gerbétière was his home till in early manhood he returned to america, the land he loved above all others, as his journals show repeatedly. the impress of the years in france was never lost; he always had a strong french accent, he possessed in a marked degree the adaptability to circumstances which is a trait of that nation, and his disposition inherited from both parents was elated or depressed by a trifle. he was quick-tempered, enthusiastic, and romantic, yet affectionate, forgiving, and with unlimited industry and perseverance; he was generous to every one with time, money, and possessions; nothing was too good for others, but his own personal requirements were of the simplest character. his life shows all this and more, better than words of mine can tell; and as the only account of his years till he left henderson, ky., in , is in his own journal, it is given here in full.[ ] myself.[ ] the precise period of my birth is yet an enigma to me, and i can only say what i have often heard my father repeat to me on this subject, which is as follows: it seems that my father had large properties in santo domingo, and was in the habit of visiting frequently that portion of our southern states called, and known by the name of, louisiana, then owned by the french government. during one of these excursions he married a lady of spanish extraction, whom i have been led to understand was as beautiful as she was wealthy, and otherwise attractive, and who bore my father three sons and a daughter,--i being the youngest of the sons and the only one who survived extreme youth. my mother, soon after my birth, accompanied my father to the estate of aux cayes, on the island of santo domingo, and she was one of the victims during the ever-to-be-lamented period of the negro insurrection of that island. my father, through the intervention of some faithful servants, escaped from aux cayes with a good portion of his plate and money, and with me and these humble friends reached new orleans in safety. from this place he took me to france, where, having married the only mother i have ever known, he left me under her charge and returned to the united states in the employ of the french government, acting as an officer under admiral rochambeau. shortly afterward, however, he landed in the united states and became attached to the army under la fayette. the first of my recollective powers placed me in the central portion of the city of nantes, on the loire river, in france, where i still recollect particularly that i was much cherished by my dear stepmother, who had no children of her own, and that i was constantly attended by one or two black servants, who had followed my father from santo domingo to new orleans and afterward to nantes. one incident which is as perfect in my memory as if it had occurred this very day, i have thought of thousands of times since, and will now put on paper as one of the curious things which perhaps did lead me in after times to love birds, and to finally study them with pleasure infinite. my mother had several beautiful parrots and some monkeys; one of the latter was a full-grown male of a very large species. one morning, while the servants were engaged in arranging the room i was in, "pretty polly" asking for her breakfast as usual, "_du pain au lait pour le perroquet mignonne_," the man of the woods probably thought the bird presuming upon his rights in the scale of nature; be this as it may, he certainly showed his supremacy in strength over the denizen of the air, for, walking deliberately and uprightly toward the poor bird, he at once killed it, with unnatural composure. the sensations of my infant heart at this cruel sight were agony to me. i prayed the servant to beat the monkey, but he, who for some reason preferred the monkey to the parrot, refused. i uttered long and piercing cries, my mother rushed into the room, i was tranquillized, the monkey was forever afterward chained, and mignonne buried with all the pomp of a cherished lost one. this made, as i have said, a very deep impression on my youthful mind. but now, my dear children, i must tell you somewhat of _my_ father, and of his parentage. john audubon, my grandfather, was born and lived at the small village of sable d'olhonne, and was by trade a very humble fisherman. he appears to have made up for the want of wealth by the number of his children, twenty-one of whom he actually raised to man and womanhood. all were sons, with one exception; my aunt, one uncle, and my father, who was the twentieth son, being the only members of that extraordinary numerous family who lived to old age. in subsequent years, when i visited sable d'olhonne, the old residents assured me that they had seen the whole family, including both parents, at church many times. when my father had reached the age of twelve years, his father presented him with a shirt, a dress of coarse material, a stick, and his blessing, and urged him to go and seek means for his future support and sustenance. some _kind_ whaler or cod-fisherman took him on board as a "boy." of his life during his early voyages it would be useless to trouble you; let it suffice for me to say that they were of the usual most uncomfortable nature. how many trips he made i cannot say, but he told me that by the time he was seventeen he had become an able seaman before the mast; when twenty-one he commanded a fishing-smack, and went to the great newfoundland banks; at twenty-five he owned several small crafts, all fishermen, and at twenty-eight sailed for santo domingo with his little flotilla heavily loaded with the produce of the deep. "fortune," said he to me one day, "now began to smile upon me. i did well in this enterprise, and after a few more voyages of the same sort gave up the sea, and purchased a small estate on the isle à vaches;[ ] the prosperity of santo domingo was at its zenith, and in the course of ten years i had realized something very considerable. the then governor gave me an appointment which called me to france, and having received some favors there, i became once more a seafaring man, the government having granted me the command of a small vessel of war."[ ] how long my father remained in the service, it is impossible for me to say. the different changes occurring at the time of the american revolution, and afterward during that in france, seem to have sent him from one place to another as if a foot-ball; his property in santo domingo augmenting, however, the while, and indeed till the liberation of the black slaves there. during a visit he paid to pennsylvania when suffering from the effects of a sunstroke, he purchased the beautiful farm of mill grove, on the schuylkill and perkiomen streams. at this place, and a few days only before the memorable battle (_sic_) of valley forge, general washington presented him with his portrait, now in my possession; and highly do i value it as a memento of that noble man and the glories of those days.[ ] at the conclusion of the war between england and her child of the west, my father returned to france and continued in the employ of the naval department of that country, being at one time sent to plymouth, england, in a seventy-five-gun ship to exchange prisoners. this was, i think, in the short peace that took place between england and france in . he returned to rochefort, where he lived for several years, still in the employ of government. he finally sent in his resignation and returned to nantes and la gerbétière. he had many severe trials and afflictions before his death, having lost my two older brothers early in the french revolution; both were officers in the army. his only sister was killed by the chouans of la vendée,[ ] and the only brother he had was not on good terms with him. this brother resided at bayonne, and, i believe, had a large family, none of whom i have ever seen or known.[ ] in personal appearance my father and i were of the same height and stature, say about five feet ten inches, erect, and with muscles of steel; his manners were those of a most polished gentleman, for those and his natural understanding had been carefully improved both by observation and by self-education. in temper we much resembled each other also, being warm, irascible, and at times violent; but it was like the blast of a hurricane, dreadful for a time, when calm almost instantly returned. he greatly approved of the change in france during the time of napoleon, whom he almost idolized. my father died in , regretted most deservedly on account of his simplicity, truth, and perfect sense of honesty. now i must return to myself. my stepmother, who was devotedly attached to me, far too much so for my good, was desirous that i should be brought up to live and die "like a gentleman," thinking that fine clothes and filled pockets were the only requisites needful to attain this end. she therefore completely spoiled me, hid my faults, boasted to every one of my youthful merits, and, worse than all, said frequently in my presence that i was the handsomest boy in france. all my wishes and idle notions were at once gratified; she went so far as actually to grant me _carte blanche_ at all the confectionery shops in the town, and also of the village of couéron, where during the summer we lived, as it were, in the country. my father was quite of another, and much more valuable description of mind as regarded my future welfare; he believed not in the power of gold coins as efficient means to render a man happy. he spoke of the stores of the mind, and having suffered much himself through the want of education, he ordered that i should be put to school, and have teachers at home. "revolutions," he was wont to say, "too often take place in the lives of individuals, and they are apt to lose in one day the fortune they before possessed; but talents and knowledge, added to sound mental training, assisted by honest industry, can never fail, nor be taken from any one once the possessor of such valuable means." therefore, notwithstanding all my mother's entreaties and her tears, off to a school i was sent. excepting only, perhaps, military schools, none were good in france at this period; the thunders of the revolution still roared over the land, the revolutionists covered the earth with the blood of man, woman, and child. but let me forever drop the curtain over the frightful aspect of this dire picture. to think of these dreadful days is too terrible, and would be too horrible and painful for me to relate to you, my dear sons. the school i went to was none of the best; my private teachers were the only means through which i acquired the least benefit. my father, who had been for so long a seaman, and who was then in the french navy, wished me to follow in his steps, or else to become an engineer. for this reason i studied drawing, geography, mathematics, fencing, etc., as well as music, for which i had considerable talent. i had a good fencing-master, and a first-rate teacher of the violin; mathematics was hard, dull work, i thought; geography pleased me more. for my other studies, as well as for dancing, i was quite enthusiastic; and i well recollect how anxious i was then to become the commander of a corps of dragoons. my father being mostly absent on duty, my mother suffered me to do much as i pleased; it was therefore not to be wondered at that, instead of applying closely to my studies, i preferred associating with boys of my own age and disposition, who were more fond of going in search of birds' nests, fishing, or shooting, than of better studies. thus almost every day, instead of going to school when i ought to have gone, i usually made for the fields, where i spent the day; my little basket went with me, filled with good eatables, and when i returned home, during either winter or summer, it was replenished with what i called curiosities, such as birds' nests, birds' eggs, curious lichens, flowers of all sorts, and even pebbles gathered along the shore of some rivulet. the first time my father returned from sea after this my room exhibited quite a show, and on entering it he was so pleased to see my various collections that he complimented me on my taste for such things: but when he inquired what else i had done, and i, like a culprit, hung my head, he left me without saying another word. dinner over he asked my sister for some music, and, on her playing for him, he was so pleased with her improvement that he presented her with a beautiful book. i was next asked to play on my violin, but alas! for nearly a month i had not touched it, it was stringless; not a word was said on that subject. "had i any drawings to show?" only a few, and those not good. my good father looked at his wife, kissed my sister, and humming a tune left the room. the next morning at dawn of day my father and i were under way in a private carriage; my trunk, etc., were fastened to it, my violin-case was under my feet, the postilion was ordered to proceed, my father took a book from his pocket, and while he silently read i was left entirely to my own thoughts. after some days' travelling we entered the gates of rochefort. my father had scarcely spoken to me, yet there was no anger exhibited in his countenance; nay, as we reached the house where we alighted, and approached the door, near which a sentinel stopped his walk and presented arms, i saw him smile as he raised his hat and said a few words to the man, but so low that not a syllable reached my ears. the house was furnished with servants, and everything seemed to go on as if the owner had not left it. my father bade me sit by his side, and taking one of my hands calmly said to me: "my beloved boy, thou art now safe. i have brought thee here that i may be able to pay constant attention to thy studies; thou shalt have ample time for pleasures, but the remainder _must_ be employed with industry and care. this day is entirely thine own, and as i must attend to my duties, if thou wishest to see the docks, the fine ships-of-war, and walk round the wall, thou may'st accompany me." i accepted, and off together we went; i was presented to every officer we met, and they noticing me more or less, i saw much that day, yet still i perceived that i was like a prisoner-of-war on parole in the city of rochefort. my best and most amiable companion was the son of admiral, or vice-admiral (i do not precisely recollect his rank) vivien, who lived nearly opposite to the house where my father and i then resided; his company i much enjoyed, and with him all my leisure hours were spent. about this time my father was sent to england in a corvette with a view to exchange prisoners, and he sailed on board the man-of-war "l'institution" for plymouth. previous to his sailing he placed me under the charge of his secretary, gabriel loyen dupuy gaudeau, the son of a fallen nobleman. now this gentleman was of no pleasing nature to me; he was, in fact, more than too strict and severe in all his prescriptions to me, and well do i recollect that one morning, after having been set to a very arduous task in mathematical problems, i gave him the slip, jumped from the window, and ran off through the gardens attached to the marine secrétariat. the unfledged bird may stand for a while on the border of its nest, and perhaps open its winglets and attempt to soar away, but his youthful imprudence may, and indeed often does, prove inimical to his prowess, as some more wary and older bird, that has kept an eye toward him, pounces relentlessly upon the young adventurer and secures him within the grasp of his more powerful talons. this was the case with me in this instance. i had leaped from the door of my cage and thought myself quite safe, while i rambled thoughtlessly beneath the shadow of the trees in the garden and grounds in which i found myself; but the secretary, with a side glance, had watched my escape, and, ere many minutes had elapsed, i saw coming toward me a corporal with whom, in fact, i was well acquainted. on nearing me, and i did not attempt to escape, our past familiarity was, i found, quite evaporated; he bid me, in a severe voice, to follow him, and on my being presented to my father's secretary i was at once ordered on board the pontoon in port. all remonstrances proved fruitless, and on board the pontoon i was conducted, and there left amid such a medley of culprits as i cannot describe, and of whom, indeed, i have but little recollection, save that i felt vile myself in their vile company. my father returned in due course, and released me from these floating and most disagreeable lodgings, but not without a rather severe reprimand. shortly after this we returned to nantes, and later to la gerbétière. my stay here was short, and i went to nantes to study mathematics anew, and there spent about one year, the remembrance of which has flown from my memory, with the exception of one incident, of which, when i happen to pass my hand over the left side of my head, i am ever and anon reminded. 'tis this: one morning, while playing with boys of my own age, a quarrel arose among us, a battle ensued, in the course of which i was knocked down by a round stone, that brought the blood from that part of my skull, and for a time i lay on the ground unconscious, but soon rallying, experienced no lasting effects but the scar. during all these years there existed within me a tendency to follow nature in her walks. perhaps not an hour of leisure was spent elsewhere than in woods and fields, and to examine either the eggs, nest, young, or parents of any species of birds constituted my delight. it was about this period that i commenced a series of drawings of the birds of france, which i continued until i had upward of two hundred drawings, all bad enough, my dear sons, yet they were representations of birds, and i felt pleased with them. hundreds of anecdotes respecting my life at this time might prove interesting to you, but as they are not in my mind at this moment i will leave them, though you may find some of them in the course of the following pages. i was within a few months of being seventeen years old, when my stepmother, who was an earnest catholic, took into her head that i should be confirmed; my father agreed. i was surprised and indifferent, but yet as i loved her as if she had been my own mother,--and well did she merit my deepest affection,--i took to the catechism, studied it and other matters pertaining to the ceremony, and all was performed to her liking. not long after this, my father, anxious as he was that i should be enrolled in napoleon's army as a frenchman, found it necessary to send me back to my own beloved country, the united states of america, and i came with intense and indescribable pleasure. on landing at new york i caught the yellow fever by walking to the bank at greenwich to get the money to which my father's letter of credit entitled me. the kind man who commanded the ship that brought me from france, whose name was a common one, john smith, took particular charge of me, removed me to morristown, n.j., and placed me under the care of two quaker ladies who kept a boarding-house. to their skilful and untiring ministrations i may safely say i owe the prolongation of my life. letters were forwarded by them to my father's agent, miers fisher of philadelphia, of whom i have more to say hereafter. he came for me in his carriage and removed me to his villa, at a short distance from philadelphia and on the road toward trenton. there i would have found myself quite comfortable had not incidents taken place which are so connected with the change in my life as to call immediate attention to them. miers fisher had been my father's trusted agent for about eighteen years, and the old gentlemen entertained great mutual friendship; indeed it would seem that mr. fisher was actually desirous that i should become a member of his family, and this was evinced within a few days by the manner in which the good quaker presented me to a daughter of no mean appearance, but toward whom i happened to take an unconquerable dislike. then he was opposed to music of all descriptions, as well as to dancing, could not bear me to carry a gun, or fishing-rod, and, indeed, condemned most of my amusements. all these things were difficulties toward accomplishing a plan which, for aught i know to the contrary, had been premeditated between him and my father, and rankled the heart of the kindly, if somewhat strict quaker. they troubled me much also; at times i wished myself anywhere but under the roof of mr. fisher, and at last i reminded him that it was his duty to install me on the estate to which my father had sent me. one morning, therefore, i was told that the carriage was ready to carry me there, and toward my future home he and i went. you are too well acquainted with the position of mill grove for me to allude to that now; suffice it to say that we reached the former abode of my father about sunset. i was presented to our tenant, william thomas, who also was a quaker, and took possession under certain restrictions, which amounted to my not receiving more than enough money per quarter than was considered sufficient for the expenditure of a young gentleman. [illustration: mill grove mansion on the perkiomen creek. from a photograph from w. h. wetherill, esq.] miers fisher left me the next morning, and after him went my blessings, for i thought his departure a true deliverance; yet this was only because our tastes and educations were so different, for he certainly was a good and learned man. mill grove was ever to me a blessed spot; in my daily walks i thought i perceived the traces left by my father as i looked on the even fences round the fields, or on the regular manner with which avenues of trees, as well as the orchards, had been planted by his hand. the mill was also a source of joy to me, and in the cave, which you too remember, where the pewees were wont to build, i never failed to find quietude and delight. hunting, fishing, drawing, and music occupied my every moment; cares i knew not, and cared naught about them. i purchased excellent and beautiful horses, visited all such neighbors as i found congenial spirits, and was as happy as happy could be. a few months after my arrival at mill grove, i was informed one day that an english family had purchased the plantation next to mine, that the name of the owner was bakewell, and moreover that he had several very handsome and interesting daughters, and beautiful pointer dogs. i listened, but cared not a jot about them at the time. the place was within sight of mill grove, and fatland ford, as it was called, was merely divided from my estate by a road leading to the schuylkill river. mr. william bakewell, the father of the family, had called on me one day, but, finding i was rambling in the woods in search of birds, left a card and an invitation to go shooting with him. now this gentleman was an englishman, and i such a foolish boy that, entertaining the greatest prejudices against all of his nationality, i did not return his visit for many weeks, which was as absurd as it was ungentlemanly and impolite. mrs. thomas, good soul, more than once spoke to me on the subject, as well as her worthy husband, but all to no import; english was english with me, my poor childish mind was settled on that, and as i wished to know none of the race the call remained unacknowledged. frosty weather, however, came, and anon was the ground covered with the deep snow. grouse were abundant along the fir-covered ground near the creek, and as i was in pursuit of game one frosty morning i chanced to meet mr. bakewell in the woods. i was struck with the kind politeness of his manner, and found him an expert marksman. entering into conversation, i admired the beauty of his well-trained dogs, and, apologizing for my discourtesy, finally promised to call upon him and his family. well do i recollect the morning, and may it please god that i may never forget it, when for the first time i entered mr. bakewell's dwelling. it happened that he was absent from home, and i was shown into a parlor where only one young lady was snugly seated at her work by the fire. she rose on my entrance, offered me a seat, and assured me of the gratification her father would feel on his return, which, she added, would be in a few moments, as she would despatch a servant for him. other ruddy cheeks and bright eyes made their transient appearance, but, like spirits gay, soon vanished from my sight; and there i sat, my gaze riveted, as it were, on the young girl before me, who, half working, half talking, essayed to make the time pleasant to me. oh! may god bless her! it was she, my dear sons, who afterward became my beloved wife, and your mother. mr. bakewell soon made his appearance, and received me with the manner and hospitality of a true english gentleman. the other members of the family were soon introduced to me, and "lucy" was told to have luncheon produced. she now arose from her seat a second time, and her form, to which i had previously paid but partial attention, showed both grace and beauty; and my heart followed every one of her steps. the repast over, guns and dogs were made ready. lucy, i was pleased to believe, looked upon me with some favor, and i turned more especially to her on leaving. i felt that certain "_je ne sais quoi_" which intimated that, at least, she was not indifferent to me. to speak of the many shooting parties that took place with mr. bakewell would be quite useless, and i shall merely say that he was a most excellent man, a great shot, and possessed of extraordinary learning--aye, far beyond my comprehension. a few days after this first interview with the family the perkiomen chanced to be bound with ice, and many a one from the neighborhood was playing pranks on the glassy surface of that lovely stream. being somewhat of a skater myself, i sent a note to the inhabitants of fatland ford, inviting them to come and partake of the simple hospitality of mill grove farm, and the invitation was kindly received and accepted. my own landlady bestirred herself to the utmost in the procuring of as many pheasants and partridges as her group of sons could entrap, and now under my own roof was seen the whole of the bakewell family, seated round the table which has never ceased to be one of simplicity and hospitality. after dinner we all repaired to the ice on the creek, and there in comfortable sledges, each fair one was propelled by an ardent skater. tales of love may be extremely stupid to the majority, so that i will not expatiate on these days, but to me, my dear sons, and under such circumstances as then, and, thank god, now exist, every moment was to me one of delight. but let me interrupt my tale to tell you somewhat of other companions whom i have heretofore neglected to mention. these are two frenchmen, by name da costa and colmesnil. a lead mine had been discovered by my tenant, william thomas, to which, besides the raising of fowls, i paid considerable attention; but i knew nothing of mineralogy or mining, and my father, to whom i communicated the discovery of the mine, sent mr. da costa as a partner and partial guardian from france. this fellow was intended to teach me mineralogy and mining engineering, but, in fact, knew nothing of either; besides which he was a covetous wretch, who did all he could to ruin my father, and indeed swindled both of us to a large amount. i had to go to france and expose him to my father to get rid of him, which i fortunately accomplished at first sight of my kind parent. a greater scoundrel than da costa never probably existed, but peace be with his soul. the other, colmesnil, was a very interesting young frenchman with whom i became acquainted. he was very poor, and i invited him to come and reside under my roof. this he did, remaining for many months, much to my delight. his appearance was typical of what he was, a perfect gentleman; he was handsome in form, and possessed of talents far above my own. when introduced to your mother's family he was much thought of, and at one time he thought himself welcome to my lucy; but it was only a dream, and when once undeceived by her whom i too loved, he told me he must part with me. this we did with mutual regret, and he returned to france, where, though i have lost sight of him, i believe he is still living. during the winter connected with this event your uncle thomas bakewell, now residing in cincinnati, was one morning skating with me on the perkiomen, when he challenged me to shoot at his hat as he tossed it in the air, which challenge i accepted with great pleasure. i was to pass by at full speed, within about twenty-five feet of where he stood, and to shoot only when he gave the word. off i went like lightning, up and down, as if anxious to boast of my own prowess while on the glittering surface beneath my feet; coming, however, within the agreed distance the signal was given, the trigger pulled, off went the load, and down on the ice came the hat of my future brother-in-law, as completely perforated as if a sieve. he repented, alas! too late, and was afterward severely reprimanded by mr. bakewell. another anecdote i must relate to you on paper, which i have probably too often repeated in words, concerning my skating in those early days of happiness; but, as the world knows nothing of it, i shall give it to you at some length. it was arranged one morning between your young uncle, myself, and several other friends of the same age, that we should proceed on a duck-shooting excursion up the creek, and, accordingly, off we went after an early breakfast. the ice was in capital order wherever no air-holes existed, but of these a great number interrupted our course, all of which were, however, avoided as we proceeded upward along the glittering, frozen bosom of the stream. the day was spent in much pleasure, and the game collected was not inconsiderable. [illustration: fatland ford mansion, looking toward valley forge. from a photograph from w. h. wetherill, esq.] on our return, in the early dusk of the evening, i was bid to lead the way; i fastened a white handkerchief to a stick, held it up, and we all proceeded toward home as a flock of wild ducks to their roosting-grounds. many a mile had already been passed, and, as gayly as ever, we were skating swiftly along when darkness came on, and now our speed was increased. unconsciously i happened to draw so very near a large air-hole that to check my headway became quite impossible, and down it i went, and soon felt the power of a most chilling bath. my senses must, for aught i know, have left me for a while; be this as it may, i must have glided with the stream some thirty or forty yards, when, as god would have it, up i popped at another air-hole, and here i did, in some way or another, manage to crawl out. my companions, who in the gloom had seen my form so suddenly disappear, escaped the danger, and were around me when i emerged from the greatest peril i have ever encountered, not excepting my escape from being murdered on the prairie, or by the hands of that wretch s---- b----, of henderson. i was helped to a shirt from one, a pair of dry breeches from another, and completely dressed anew in a few minutes, if in motley and ill-fitting garments; our line of march was continued, with, however, much more circumspection. let the reader, whoever he may be, think as he may like on this singular and, in truth, most extraordinary escape from death; it is the truth, and as such i have written it down as a wonderful act of providence. mr. da costa, my tutor, took it into his head that my affection for your mother was rash and inconsiderate. he spoke triflingly of her and of her parents, and one day said to me that for a man of my rank and expectations to marry lucy bakewell was out of the question. if i laughed at him or not i cannot tell you, but of this i am certain, that my answers to his talks on this subject so exasperated him that he immediately afterward curtailed my usual income, made some arrangements to send me to india, and wrote to my father accordingly. understanding from many of my friends that his plans were fixed, and finally hearing from philadelphia, whither da costa had gone, that he had taken my passage from philadelphia to canton, i walked to philadelphia, entered his room quite unexpectedly, and asked him for such an amount of money as would enable me at once to sail for france and there see my father. the cunning wretch, for i cannot call him by any other name, smiled, and said: "certainly, my dear sir," and afterward gave me a letter of credit on a mr. kauman, a half-agent, half-banker, then residing at new york. i returned to mill grove, made all preparatory plans for my departure, bid a sad adieu to my lucy and her family, and walked to new york. but never mind the journey; it was winter, the country lay under a covering of snow, but withal i reached new york on the third day, late in the evening. once there, i made for the house of a mrs. palmer, a lady of excellent qualities, who received me with the utmost kindness, and later on the same evening i went to the house of your grand-uncle, benjamin bakewell, then a rich merchant of new york, managing the concerns of the house of guelt, bankers, of london. i was the bearer of a letter from mr. bakewell, of fatland ford, to this brother of his, and there i was again most kindly received and housed. the next day i called on mr. kauman; he read da costa's letter, smiled, and after a while told me he had nothing to give me, and in plain terms said that instead of a letter of credit, da costa--that rascal!--had written and advised him to have me arrested and shipped to canton. the blood rose to my temples, and well it was that i had no weapon about me, for i feel even now quite assured that his heart must have received the result of my wrath. i left him half bewildered, half mad, and went to mrs. palmer, and spoke to her of my purpose of returning at once to philadelphia and there certainly murdering da costa. women have great power over me at any time, and perhaps under all circumstances. mrs. palmer quieted me, spoke religiously of the cruel sin i thought of committing, and, at last, persuaded me to relinquish the direful plan. i returned to mr. bakewell's low-spirited and mournful, but said not a word about all that had passed. the next morning my sad visage showed something was wrong, and i at last gave vent to my outraged feelings. benjamin bakewell was a _friend_ of his brother (may you ever be so toward each other). he comforted me much, went with me to the docks to seek a vessel bound to france, and offered me any sum of money i might require to convey me to my father's house. my passage was taken on board the brig "hope," of new bedford, and i sailed in her, leaving da costa and kauman in a most exasperated state of mind. the fact is, these rascals intended to cheat both me and my father. the brig was bound direct for nantes. we left the hook under a very fair breeze, and proceeded at a good rate till we reached the latitude of new bedford, in massachusetts, when my captain came to me as if in despair, and said he must run into port, as the vessel was so leaky as to force him to have her unloaded and repaired before he proceeded across the atlantic. now this was only a trick; my captain was newly married, and was merely anxious to land at new bedford to spend a few days with his bride, and had actually caused several holes to be bored below water-mark, which leaked enough to keep the men at the pumps. we came to anchor close to the town of new bedford; the captain went on shore, entered a protest, the vessel was unloaded, the apertures bunged up, and after a week, which i spent in being rowed about the beautiful harbor, we sailed for la belle france. a few days after having lost sight of land we were overtaken by a violent gale, coming fairly on our quarter, and before it we scudded at an extraordinary rate, and during the dark night had the misfortune to lose a fine young sailor overboard. at one part of the sea we passed through an immensity of dead fish floating on the surface of the water, and, after nineteen days from new bedford, we had entered the loire, and anchored off painboeuf, the lower harbor of nantes. on sending my name to the principal officer of the customs, he came on board, and afterward sent me to my father's villa, la gerbétière, in his barge, and with his own men, and late that evening i was in the arms of my beloved parents. although i had written to them previous to leaving america, the rapidity of my voyage had prevented them hearing of my intentions, and to them my appearance was sudden and unexpected. most welcome, however, i was; i found my father hale and hearty, and _chère maman_ as fair and good as ever. adored _maman_, peace be with thee! i cannot trouble you with minute accounts of my life in france for the following two years, but will merely tell you that my first object being that of having da costa disposed of, this was first effected; the next was my father's consent to my marriage, and this was acceded to as soon as my good father had received answers to letters written to your grandfather, william bakewell. in the very lap of comfort my time was happily spent; i went out shooting and hunting, drew every bird i procured, as well as many other objects of natural history and zoölogy, though these were not the subjects i had studied under the instruction of the celebrated david. it was during this visit that my sister rosa was married to gabriel dupuy gaudeau, and i now also became acquainted with ferdinand rozier, whom you well know. between rozier and myself my father formed a partnership to stand good for nine years in america. france was at that time in a great state of convulsion; the republic had, as it were, dwindled into a half monarchical, half democratic era. bonaparte was at the height of success, overflowing the country as the mountain torrent overflows the plains in its course. levies, or conscriptions, were the order of the day, and my name being french my father felt uneasy lest i should be forced to take part in the political strife of those days. i underwent a mockery of an examination, and was received as midshipman in the navy, went to rochefort, was placed on board a man-of-war, and ran a short cruise. on my return, my father had, in some way, obtained passports for rozier and me, and we sailed for new york. never can i forget the day when, at st. nazaire, an officer came on board to examine the papers of the many passengers. on looking at mine he said: "my dear mr. audubon, i wish you joy; would to god that i had such papers; how thankful i should be to leave unhappy france under the same passport." about a fortnight after leaving france a vessel gave us chase. we were running before the wind under all sail, but the unknown gained on us at a great rate, and after a while stood to the windward of our ship, about half a mile off. she fired a gun, the ball passed within a few yards of our bows; our captain heeded not, but kept on his course, with the united states flag displayed and floating in the breeze. another and another shot was fired at us; the enemy closed upon us; all the passengers expected to receive her broadside. our commander hove to: a boat was almost instantaneously lowered and alongside our vessel;[ ] two officers leaped on board, with about a dozen mariners; the first asked for the captain's papers, while the latter with his men kept guard over the whole. the vessel which had pursued us was the "rattlesnake" and was what i believe is generally called a privateer, which means nothing but a pirate; every one of the papers proved to be in perfect accordance with the laws existing between england and america, therefore we were not touched nor molested, but the english officers who had come on board robbed the ship of almost everything that was nice in the way of provisions, took our pigs and sheep, coffee and wines, and carried off our two best sailors despite all the remonstrances made by one of our members of congress, i think from virginia, who was accompanied by a charming young daughter. the "rattlesnake" kept us under her lee, and almost within pistol-shot, for a whole day and night, ransacking the ship for money, of which we had a good deal in the run beneath a ballast of stone. although this was partially removed they did not find the treasure. i may here tell you that i placed the gold belonging to rozier and myself, wrapped in some clothing, under a cable in the bow of the ship, and there it remained snug till the "rattlesnake" had given us leave to depart, which you may be sure we did without thanks to her commander or crew; we were afterward told the former had his wife with him. after this rencontre we sailed on till we came to within about thirty miles of the entrance to the bay of new york,[ ] when we passed a fishing-boat, from which we were hailed and told that two british frigates lay off the entrance of the hook, had fired an american ship, shot a man, and impressed so many of our seamen that to attempt reaching new york might prove to be both unsafe and unsuccessful. our captain, on hearing this, put about immediately, and sailed for the east end of long island sound, which we entered uninterrupted by any other enemy than a dreadful gale, which drove us on a sand-bar in the sound, but from which we made off unhurt during the height of the tide and finally reached new york. i at once called on your uncle benjamin bakewell, stayed with him a day, and proceeded at as swift a rate as possible to fatland ford, accompanied by ferdinand rozier. mr. da costa was at once dismissed from his charge. i saw my dear lucy, and was again my own master. perhaps it would be well for me to give you some slight information respecting my mode of life in those days of my youth, and i shall do so without gloves. i was what in plain terms may be called extremely extravagant. i had no vices, it is true, neither had i any high aims. i was ever fond of shooting, fishing, and riding on horseback; the raising of fowls of every sort was one of my hobbies, and to reach the maximum of my desires in those different things filled every one of my thoughts. i was ridiculously fond of dress. to have seen me going shooting in black satin smallclothes, or breeches, with silk stockings, and the finest ruffled shirt philadelphia could afford, was, as i now realize, an absurd spectacle, but it was one of my many foibles, and i shall not conceal it. i purchased the best horses in the country, and rode well, and felt proud of it; my guns and fishing-tackle were equally good, always expensive and richly ornamented, often with silver. indeed, though in america, i cut as many foolish pranks as a young dandy in bond street or piccadilly. i was extremely fond of music, dancing, and drawing; in all i had been well instructed, and not an opportunity was lost to confirm my propensities in those accomplishments. i was, like most young men, filled with the love of amusement, and not a ball, a skating-match, a house or riding party took place without me. withal, and fortunately for me, i was not addicted to gambling; cards i disliked, and i had no other evil practices. i was, besides, temperate to an _intemperate_ degree. i lived, until the day of my union with your mother, on milk, fruits, and vegetables, with the addition of game and fish at times, but never had i swallowed a single glass of wine or spirits until the day of my wedding. the result has been my uncommon, indeed iron, constitution. this was my constant mode of life ever since my earliest recollection, and while in france it was extremely annoying to all those round me. indeed, so much did it influence me that i never went to dinners, merely because when so situated my peculiarities in my choice of food occasioned comment, and also because often not a single dish was to my taste or fancy, and i could eat nothing from the sumptuous tables before me. pies, puddings, eggs, milk, or cream was all i cared for in the way of food, and many a time have i robbed my tenant's wife, mrs. thomas, of the cream intended to make butter for the philadelphia market. all this time i was as fair and as rosy as a girl, though as strong, indeed stronger than most young men, and as active as a buck. and why, have i thought a thousand times, should i not have kept to that delicious mode of living? and why should not mankind in general be more abstemious than mankind is? before i sailed for france i had begun a series of drawings of the birds of america, and had also begun a study of their habits. i at first drew my subjects dead, by which i mean to say that, after procuring a specimen, i hung it up either by the head, wing, or foot, and copied it as closely as i possibly could. in my drawing of birds only did i interest mr. da costa. he always commended my efforts, nay he even went farther, for one morning, while i was drawing a figure of the _ardea herodias_,[ ] he assured me the time might come when i should be a great american naturalist. however curious it may seem to the scientific world that these sayings from the lips of such a man should affect me, i assure you they had great weight with me, and i felt a certain degree of pride in these words even then. too young and too useless to be married, your grandfather william bakewell advised me to study the mercantile business; my father approved, and to insure this training under the best auspices i went to new york, where i entered as a clerk for your great-uncle benjamin bakewell, while rozier went to a french house at philadelphia. the mercantile business did not suit me. the very first venture which i undertook was in indigo; it cost me several hundred pounds, the whole of which was lost. rozier was no more fortunate than i, for he shipped a cargo of hams to the west indies, and not more than one-fifth of the cost was returned. yet i suppose we both obtained a smattering of business. time passed, and at last, on april th, , your mother and i were married by the rev. dr. latimer, of philadelphia, and the next morning left fatland ford and mill grove for louisville, ky. for some two years previous to this, rozier and i had visited the country from time to time as merchants, had thought well of it, and liked it exceedingly. its fertility and abundance, the hospitality and kindness of the people were sufficiently winning things to entice any one to go there with a view to comfort and happiness. we had marked louisville as a spot designed by nature to become a place of great importance, and, had we been as wise as we now are, i might never have published the "birds of america;" for a few hundred dollars laid out at that period, in lands or town lots near louisville, would, if left to grow over with grass to a date ten years past (this being ), have become an immense fortune. but young heads are on young shoulders; it was not to be, and who cares? on our way to pittsburg, we met with a sad accident, that nearly cost the life of your mother. the coach upset on the mountains, and she was severely, but fortunately not fatally hurt. we floated down the ohio in a flatboat, in company with several other young families; we had many goods, and opened a large store at louisville, which went on prosperously when i attended to it; but birds were birds then as now, and my thoughts were ever and anon turning toward them as the objects of my greatest delight. i shot, i drew, i looked on nature only; my days were happy beyond human conception, and beyond this i really cared not. victor was born june , , at gwathway's hotel of the indian queen. we had by this time formed the acquaintance of many persons in and about louisville; the country was settled by planters and farmers of the most benevolent and hospitable nature; and my young wife, who possessed talents far above par, was regarded as a gem, and received by them all with the greatest pleasure. all the sportsmen and hunters were fond of me, and i became their companion; my fondness for fine horses was well kept up, and i had as good as the country--and the country was kentucky--could afford. our most intimate friends were the tarascons and the berthouds, at louisville and shippingport. the simplicity and whole-heartedness of those days i cannot describe; man was man, and each, one to another, a brother. i seldom passed a day without drawing a bird, or noting something respecting its habits, rozier meantime attending the counter. i could relate many curious anecdotes about him, but never mind them; he made out to grow rich, and what more could _he_ wish for? in alexander wilson the naturalist--not the _american_ naturalist--called upon me.[ ] about your uncle thomas w. bakewell sailed from new york or philadelphia, as a partner of mine, and took with him all the disposable money which i had at that time, and there [new orleans] opened a mercantile house under the name of "audubon & bakewell." merchants crowded to louisville from all our eastern cities. none of them were, as i was, intent on the study of birds, but all were deeply impressed with the value of dollars. louisville did not give us up, but we gave up louisville. i could not bear to give the attention required by my business, and which, indeed, every business calls for, and, therefore, my business abandoned me. indeed, i never thought of it beyond the ever-engaging journeys which i was in the habit of taking to philadelphia or new york to purchase goods; these journeys i greatly enjoyed, as they afforded me ample means to study birds and their habits as i travelled through the beautiful, the darling forests of ohio, kentucky, and pennsylvania. were i here to tell you that once, when travelling, and driving several horses before me laden with goods and dollars, i lost sight of the pack-saddles, and the cash they bore, to watch the motions of a warbler, i should only repeat occurrences that happened a hundred times and more in those days. to an ordinary reader this may appear very odd, but it is as true, my dear sons, as it is that i am now scratching this poor book of mine with a miserable iron pen. rozier and myself still had some business together, but we became discouraged at louisville, and i longed to have a wilder range; this made us remove to henderson, one hundred and twenty-five miles farther down the fair ohio. we took there the remainder of our stock on hand, but found the country so very new, and so thinly populated that the commonest goods only were called for. i may say our guns and fishing-lines were the principal means of our support, as regards food. john pope, our clerk, who was a kentuckian, was a good shot and an excellent fisherman, and he and i attended to the procuring of game and fish, while rozier again stood behind the counter. your beloved mother and i were as happy as possible, the people round loved us, and we them in return; our profits were enormous, but our sales small, and my partner, who spoke english but badly, suggested that we remove to st. geneviève, on the mississippi river. i acceded to his request to go there, but determined to leave your mother and victor at henderson, not being quite sure that our adventure would succeed as we hoped. i therefore placed her and the children under the care of dr. rankin and his wife, who had a fine farm about three miles from henderson, and having arranged our goods on board a large flatboat, my partner and i left henderson in the month of december, , in a heavy snow-storm. this change in my plans prevented me from going, as i had intended, on a long expedition. in louisville we had formed the acquaintance of major croghan (an old friend of my father's), and of general jonathan clark, the brother of general william clark, the first white man who ever crossed the rocky mountains. i had engaged to go with him, but was, as i have said, unfortunately prevented. to return to our journey. when we reached cash creek we were bound by ice for a few weeks; we then attempted to ascend the mississippi, but were again stopped in the great bend called tawapatee bottom, where we again planted our camp till a thaw broke the ice.[ ] in less than six weeks, however, we reached the village of st. geneviève. i found at once it was not the place for me; its population was then composed of low french canadians, uneducated and uncouth, and the ever-longing wish to be with my beloved wife and children drew my thoughts to henderson, to which i decided to return almost immediately. scarcely any communication existed between the two places, and i felt cut off from all dearest to me. rozier, on the contrary, liked it; he found plenty of french with whom to converse. i proposed selling out to him, a bargain was made, he paid me a certain amount in cash, and gave me bills for the residue. this accomplished, i purchased a beauty of a horse, for which i paid dear enough, and bid rozier farewell. on my return trip to henderson i was obliged to stop at a humble cabin, where i so nearly ran the chance of losing my life, at the hands of a woman and her two desperate sons, that i have thought fit since to introduce this passage in a sketch called "the prairie," which is to be found in the first volume of my "ornithological biography." winter was just bursting into spring when i left the land of lead mines. nature leaped with joy, as it were, at her own new-born marvels, the prairies began to be dotted with beauteous flowers, abounded with deer, and my own heart was filled with happiness at the sights before me. i must not forget to tell you that i crossed those prairies on foot at another time, for the purpose of collecting the money due to me from rozier, and that i walked one hundred and sixty-five miles in a little over three days, much of the time nearly ankle deep in mud and water, from which i suffered much afterward by swollen feet. i reached henderson in early march, and a few weeks later the lower portions of kentucky and the shores of the mississippi suffered severely by earthquakes. i felt their effects between louisville and henderson, and also at dr. rankin's. i have omitted to say that my second son, john woodhouse, was born under dr. rankin's roof on november , ; he was an extremely delicate boy till about a twelvemonth old, when he suddenly acquired strength and grew to be a lusty child. your uncle, thomas w. bakewell, had been all this time in new orleans, and thither i had sent him almost all the money i could raise; but notwithstanding this, the firm could not stand, and one day, while i was making a drawing of an otter, he suddenly appeared. he remained at dr. rankin's a few days, talked much to me about our misfortunes in trade, and left us for fatland ford. my pecuniary means were now much reduced. i continued to draw birds and quadrupeds, it is true, but only now and then thought of making any money. i bought a wild horse, and on its back travelled over tennessee and a portion of georgia, and so round till i finally reached philadelphia, and then to your grandfather's at fatland ford. he had sold my plantation of mill grove to samuel wetherell, of philadelphia, for a good round sum, and with this i returned through kentucky and at last reached henderson once more. your mother was well, both of you were lovely darlings of our hearts, and the effects of poverty troubled us not. your uncle t. w. bakewell was again in new orleans and doing rather better, but this was a mere transient clearing of that sky which had been obscured for many a long day. determined to do something for myself, i took to horse, rode to louisville with a few hundred dollars in my pockets, and there purchased, half cash, half credit, a small stock, which i brought to henderson. _chemin faisant_, i came in contact with, and was accompanied by, general toledo, then on his way as a revolutionist to south america. as our flatboats were floating one clear moonshiny night lashed together, this individual opened his views to me, promising me wonders of wealth should i decide to accompany him, and he went so far as to offer me a colonelcy on what he was pleased to call "his safe guard." i listened, it is true, but looked more at the heavens than on his face, and in the former found so much more of peace than of war that i concluded not to accompany him. when our boats arrived at henderson, he landed with me, purchased many horses, hired some men, and coaxed others, to accompany him, purchased a young negro from me, presented me with a splendid spanish dagger and my wife with a ring, and went off overland toward natchez, with a view of there gathering recruits. i now purchased a ground lot of four acres, and a meadow of four more at the back of the first. on the latter stood several buildings, an excellent orchard, etc., lately the property of an english doctor, who had died on the premises, and left the whole to a servant woman as a gift, from whom it came to me as a freehold. the pleasures which i have felt at henderson, and under the roof of that log cabin, can never be effaced from my heart until after death. the little stock of goods brought from louisville answered perfectly, and in less than twelve months i had again risen in the world. i purchased adjoining land, and was doing extremely well when thomas bakewell came once more on the tapis, and joined me in commerce. we prospered at a round rate for a while, but unfortunately for me, he took it into his brain to persuade me to erect a steam-mill at henderson, and to join to our partnership an englishman of the name of thomas pears, now dead. well, up went the steam-mill at an enormous expense, in a country then as unfit for such a thing as it would be now for me to attempt to settle in the moon. thomas pears came to henderson with his wife and family of children, the mill was raised, and worked very badly. thomas pears lost his money and we lost ours. it was now our misfortune to add other partners and petty agents to our concern; suffice it for me to tell you, nay, to assure you, that i was gulled by all these men. the new-born kentucky banks nearly all broke in quick succession; and again we started with a new set of partners; these were your present uncle n. berthoud and benjamin page of pittsburg. matters, however, grew worse every day; the times were what men called "bad," but i am fully persuaded the great fault was ours, and the building of that accursed steam-mill was, of all the follies of man, one of the greatest, and to your uncle and me the worst of all our pecuniary misfortunes. how i labored at that infernal mill! from dawn to dark, nay, at times all night. but it is over now; i am old, and try to forget as fast as possible all the different trials of those sad days. we also took it into our heads to have a steamboat, in partnership with the engineer who had come from philadelphia to fix the engine of that mill. this also proved an entire failure, and misfortune after misfortune came down upon us like so many avalanches, both fearful and destructive. about this time i went to new orleans, at the suggestion of your uncle, to arrest t---- b----, who had purchased a steamer from us, but whose bills were worthless, and who owed us for the whole amount. i travelled down to new orleans in an open skiff, accompanied by two negroes of mine; i reached new orleans one day too late; mr. b---- had been compelled to surrender the steamer to a prior claimant. i returned to henderson, travelling part way on the steamer "paragon," walked from the mouth of the ohio to shawnee, and rode the rest of the distance. on my arrival old mr. berthoud told me that mr. b---- had arrived before me, and had sworn to kill me. my affrighted lucy forced me to wear a dagger. mr. b---- walked about the streets and before my house as if watching for me, and the continued reports of our neighbors prepared me for an encounter with this man, whose violent and ungovernable temper was only too well known. as i was walking toward the steam-mill one morning, i heard myself hailed from behind; on turning, i observed mr. b---- marching toward me with a heavy club in his hand. i stood still, and he soon reached me. he complained of my conduct to him at new orleans, and suddenly raising his bludgeon laid it about me. though white with wrath, i spoke nor moved not till he had given me twelve severe blows, then, drawing my dagger with my left hand (unfortunately my right was disabled and in a sling, having been caught and much injured in the wheels of the steam-engine), i stabbed him and he instantly fell. old mr. berthoud and others, who were hastening to the spot, now came up, and carried him home on a plank. thank god, his wound was not mortal, but his friends were all up in arms and as hot-headed as himself. some walked through my premises armed with guns; my dagger was once more at my side, mr. berthoud had his gun, our servants were variously armed, and our carpenter took my gun "long tom." thus protected, i walked into the judiciary court, that was then sitting, and was blamed, _only_,--for not having killed the scoundrel who attacked me. [illustration: audubon's mill at henderson, kentucky. now owned by mr. david clark.] the "bad establishment," as i called the steam-mill, worked worse and worse every day. thomas bakewell, who possessed more brains than i, sold his town lots and removed to cincinnati, where he has made a large fortune, and glad i am of it. from this date my pecuniary difficulties daily increased; i had heavy bills to pay which i could not meet or take up. the moment this became known to the world around me, that moment i was assailed with thousands of invectives; the once wealthy man was now nothing. i parted with every particle of property i held to my creditors, keeping only the clothes i wore on that day, my original drawings, and my gun. your mother held in her arms your baby sister rosa, named thus on account of her extreme loveliness, and after my own sister rosa. _she_ felt the pangs of our misfortunes perhaps more heavily than i, but never for an hour lost her courage; her brave and cheerful spirit accepted all, and no reproaches from her beloved lips ever wounded my heart. with her was i not always rich? finally i paid every bill, and at last left henderson, probably forever, without a dollar in my pocket, walked to louisville alone, by no means comfortable in mind, there went to mr. berthoud's, where i was kindly received; they were indeed good friends. my plantation in pennsylvania had been sold, and, in a word, nothing was left to me but my humble talents. were those talents to remain dormant under such exigencies? was i to see my beloved lucy and children suffer and want bread, in the abundant state of kentucky? was i to repine because i had acted like an honest man? was i inclined to cut my throat in foolish despair? no!! i _had_ talents, and to them i instantly resorted. to be a good draughtsman in those days was to me a blessing; to any other man, be it a thousand years hence, it will be a blessing also. i at once undertook to take portraits of the human "head divine," in black chalk, and, thanks to my master, david, succeeded admirably. i commenced at exceedingly low prices, but raised these prices as i became more known in this capacity. your mother and yourselves were sent up from henderson to our friend isham talbot, then senator for kentucky; this was done without a cent of expense to me, and i can never be grateful enough for his kind generosity. in the course of a few weeks i had as much work to do as i could possibly wish, so much that i was able to rent a house in a retired part of louisville. i was sent for four miles in the country, to take likenesses of persons on their death-beds, and so high did my reputation suddenly rise, as the best delineator of heads in that vicinity, that a clergyman residing at louisville (i would give much now to recall and write down his name) had his dead child disinterred, to procure a fac-simile of his face, which, by the way, i gave to the parents as if still alive, to their intense satisfaction. my drawings of birds were not neglected meantime; in this particular there seemed to hover round me almost a mania, and i would even give up doing a head, the profits of which would have supplied our wants for a week or more, to represent a little citizen of the feathered tribe. nay, my dear sons, i thought that i now drew birds far better than i had ever done before misfortune intensified, or at least developed, my abilities. i received an invitation to go to cincinnati,[ ] a flourishing place, and which you now well know to be a thriving town in the state of ohio. i was presented to the president of the cincinnati college, dr. drake, and immediately formed an engagement to stuff birds for the museum there, in concert with mr. robert best, an englishman of great talent. my salary was large, and i at once sent for your mother to come to me, and bring you. your dearly beloved sister rosa died shortly afterward. i now established a large drawing-school at cincinnati, to which i attended thrice per week, and at good prices. the expedition of major long[ ] passed through the city soon after, and well do i recollect how he, messrs. t. peale,[ ] thomas say,[ ] and others stared at my drawings of birds at that time. so industrious were mr. best and i that in about six months we had augmented, arranged, and finished all we could do for the museum. i returned to my portraits, and made a great number of them, without which we must have once more been on the starving list, as mr. best and i found, sadly too late, that the members of the college museum were splendid promisers and very bad paymasters. in october of i left your mother and yourselves at cincinnati, and went to new orleans on board a flat-boat commanded and owned by a mr. haromack. from this date my journals are kept with fair regularity, and if you read them you will easily find all that followed afterward. in glancing over these pages, i see that in my hurried and broken manner of laying before you this very imperfect (but perfectly correct) account of my early life i have omitted to tell you that, before the birth of your sister rosa, a daughter was born at henderson, who was called, of course, lucy. alas! the poor, dear little one was unkindly born, she was always ill and suffering; two years did your kind and unwearied mother nurse her with all imaginable care, but notwithstanding this loving devotion she died, in the arms which had held her so long, and so tenderly. this infant daughter we buried in our garden at henderson, but after removed her to the holly burying-ground in the same place. hundreds of anecdotes i could relate to you, my dear sons, about those times, and it may happen that the pages that i am now scribbling over may hereafter, through your own medium, or that of some one else be published. i shall try, should god almighty grant me life, to return to these less important portions of my history, and delineate them all with the same faithfulness with which i have written the ornithological biographies of the birds of my beloved country. only one event, however, which possesses in itself a lesson to mankind, i will here relate. after our dismal removal from henderson to louisville, one morning, while all of us were sadly desponding, i took you both, victor and john, from shippingport to louisville. i had purchased a loaf of bread and some apples; before we reached louisville you were all hungry, and by the river side we sat down and ate our scanty meal. on that day the world was with me as a blank, and my heart was sorely heavy, for scarcely had i enough to keep my dear ones alive; and yet through these dark ways i was being led to the development of the talents i loved, and which have brought so much enjoyment to us _all_, for it is with deep thankfulness that i record that you, my sons, have passed your lives almost continuously with your dear mother and myself. but i will here stop with one remark. one of the most extraordinary things among all these adverse circumstances was that i never for a day gave up listening to the songs of our birds, or watching their peculiar habits, or delineating them in the best way that i could; nay, during my deepest troubles i frequently would wrench myself from the persons around me, and retire to some secluded part of our noble forests; and many a time, at the sound of the wood-thrush's melodies have i fallen on my knees, and there prayed earnestly to our god. this never failed to bring me the most valuable of thoughts and always comfort, and, strange as it may seem to you, it was often necessary for me to exert my will, and compel myself to return to my fellow-beings. to speak more fully on some of the incidents which audubon here relates, i turn to one of the two journals which are all that fire has spared of the many volumes which were filled with his fine, rather illegible handwriting previous to . in the earlier of these journals i read: "i went to france not only to escape da costa, but even more to obtain my father's consent to my marriage with my lucy, and this simply because i thought it my moral and religious duty to do so. but although my request was immediately granted, i remained in france nearly two years. as i told you, mr. bakewell considered my lucy too young (she was then but seventeen), and me too unbusiness-like to marry; so my father decided that i should remain some months with him, and on returning to america it was his plan to associate me with some one whose commercial knowledge would be of value to me. "my father's beautiful country seat, situated within sight of the loire, about mid-distance between nantes and the sea, i found quite delightful to my taste, notwithstanding the frightful cruelties i had witnessed in that vicinity, not many years previously. the gardens, greenhouses, and all appertaining to it appeared to me then as if of a superior cast; and my father's physician was above all a young man precisely after my own heart; his name was d'orbigny, and with his young wife and infant son he lived not far distant. the doctor was a good fisherman, a good hunter, and fond of all objects in nature. together we searched the woods, the fields, and the banks of the loire, procuring every bird we could, and i made drawings of every one of them--very bad, to be sure, but still they were of assistance to me. the lessons which i had received from the great david[ ] now proved all-important to me, but what i wanted, and what i had the good fortune to stumble upon a few years later, was the knowledge of putting up my models, in true and good positions according to the ways and habits of my beautiful feathered subjects. during these happy years i managed to make drawings of about two hundred species of birds, all of which i brought to america and gave to my lucy.[ ] "at last my father associated me with ferdinand rozier, as you already know, and we were fairly smuggled out of france; for he was actually an officer attached to the navy of that country, and though i had a passport stating i was born at new orleans, my french name would have swept that aside very speedily. rozier's passport was a dutch one, though he did not understand a single word in that language. indeed, our passengers were a medley crowd; two days out two monks appeared among us from the hold, where our captain had concealed them." this same "medley crowd" appears to have comprised many refugees from the rule of napoleon, this being about , and the amusements were varied, including both gaming and dancing. to quote again: "among the passengers was a handsome virginian girl, young and graceful. she was constantly honored by the attentions of two frenchmen who belonged to the nobility; both were fine young fellows, travelling, as was not uncommon then, under assumed names. one lovely day the bonnet of the fair lady was struck by a rope and knocked overboard. one of the french chevaliers at once leaped into the ocean, captured the bonnet, and had the good fortune to be picked up himself by the yawl. on reaching the deck he presented the bonnet with a graceful obeisance and perfect _sang froid_, while the rival looked at him as black as a raven. no more was heard of the matter till dawn, when reports of firearms were heard; the alarm was general, as we feared pirates. on gaining the deck it was found that a challenge had been given and accepted, a duel had positively taken place, ending, alas! in the death of the rescuer of the bonnet. the young lady felt this deeply, and indeed it rendered us all very uncomfortable." the voyage ended, audubon returned to mill grove, where he remained some little time before his marriage to lucy bakewell. it was a home he always loved, and never spoke of without deep feeling. his sensitive nature, romantic if you will, was always more or less affected by environment, and mill grove was a most congenial spot to him. this beautiful estate in montgomery co., pa., lies in a lovely part of the country. the house, on a gentle eminence, almost a natural terrace, overlooks, towards the west, the rapid waters of perkiomen creek, which just below empties into the schuylkill river, across which to the south is the historic ground of valley forge. the property has remained in the wetherill family nearly ever since audubon sold it to samuel wetherill in . the present owner[ ] delights to treasure every trace of the bird lover, and not only makes no changes in anything that he can in the least degree associate with him, but has added many photographs and engravings of audubon which adorn his walls. the house, of the usual type of those days, with a hall passing through the centre and rooms on either side, was built of rubble-stone by roland evans in , and in was sold to admiral audubon, who in the year following built an addition, also of rubble-stone. this addition is lower than the main house, which consists of two full stories and an attic with dormer windows, where, it is said, audubon kept his collections. the same franklin stove is in the parlor which stood there giving out its warmth and cheer when the young man came in from the hunting and skating expeditions on which he loved to dwell. the dense woods which once covered the ground are largely cut down, but sufficient forest growth remains to give the needed shade and beauty; the hemlocks in particular are noticeable, so large and of such perfect form. going down a foot-path to perkiomen creek, a few steps lead to the old mill which gave the place its name. built of stone and shaded by cottonwood trees, the stream rushing past as in days long gone, the mill-wheel still revolves, though little work is done there now. when i saw mill grove[ ] the spring flowers were abundant; the soft, pale blossom of the may-apple (_podophyllum peltatum_) held its head above the blue of many violets, the fingers of the potentilla with their yellow stars crept in and out among the tangled grass and early undergrowth; the trilliums, both red and white, were in profusion; in the shade the wood anemones, with their shell pink cups grew everywhere, while in damp spots by the brook yet remained a few adder's-tongues, and under the hemlocks in the clefts of the rocks the delicate foliage of the dutchmen's breeches (_dicentra cucullaria_) with a few late blossoms; all these and many more which i do not now recall, audubon has pictured with the birds found in the same regions, as his imperishable tribute to the home he loved--mill-grove farm on the perkiomen creek. fatland ford, to the south of mill grove, is a far larger and grander mansion than that of the modest quaker evans; as one approaches, the white columns of the imposing entrance are seen for some distance before entering the avenue which leads to the front of the mansion. like mill grove it stands on a natural terrace, and has an extensive outlook over the schuylkill and valley forge. this house was built by james vaux in . he was a member of the society of friends and an englishman, but in sympathy with the colonists. one end of sullivan's bridge was not far from the house; the spot where it once stood is now marked by the remains of a red-sandstone monument.[ ] washington spent a night in the mansion house with mr. vaux, and left only twelve hours in advance of the arrival of howe, who lodged there the following night.[ ] the old walled garden still remains, and the stable with accommodation for many horses. a little withdrawn from all these and on the edge of a wood are "the graves of a household," not neglected, as is so often the case, but preserved and cared for by those who own fatland farm[ ] as well as mill grove. dear as mill grove was to audubon, he left it with his young bride the day following their wedding, which took place at fatland ford on april , , and departed for louisville, ky., where he and rozier, his partner, had previously done some business. though they had both lost money they liked the place, which reason seemed quite sufficient to decide them to return and lose more money, as they promptly did. they remained at louisville till , when they moved to henderson, where rozier did what business was done, and audubon drew, fished, hunted, and rambled in the woods to his heart's content, but his purse's depletion. he describes this life in the episode "fishing in the ohio," and in these rushing times such an arcadian existence seems impossible. small wonder that his wife's relatives, with their english thrift, lost patience with him, could not believe he was aught but idle, because he did not work their way. i doubt not many would think, as they did, that he wasted his days, when in truth he was laying up stores of knowledge which later in life brought him a rich harvest. waiting times are always long, longest to those who do not understand the silent inner growth which goes on and on, yet makes no outward sign for months and even years, as in the case of audubon. henderson was then a tiny place, and gains being small if any, rozier and audubon, in december, , started for st. geneviève, spent their winter in camp, and reached their destination when the ice broke up. on april , , they dissolved partnership, and wrote each as they felt, audubon saying: "rozier cared only for money and liked st. geneviève;" rozier writing: "audubon had no taste for commerce, and was continually in the forest." once more, however, he went to st. geneviève to try to get money rozier owed him, and returned to henderson on foot, still unpaid, in february or march of . he had gone with a party of osage indians, but his journey back was made alone. he writes in his journal, simply with date of april, :-- "bidding rozier good-bye, i whistled to my dog, crossed the mississippi and went off alone and on foot, bent on reaching shawanee town as soon as possible; but little had i foreseen the task before me, for soon as i had left the river lands and reached the prairies, i found them covered with water, like large lakes; still nothing would have made me retrace my steps, and the thoughts of my lucy and my boy made me care little what my journey might be. unfortunately i had no shoes, and my moccasins constantly slipping made the wading extremely irksome; notwithstanding, i walked forty-five miles and swam the muddy river. i only saw two cabins that day, but i had great pleasure in viewing herds of deer crossing the prairie, like myself ankle deep in water. their beautiful movements, their tails spread to the breeze, were perceivable for many miles. a mound covered with trees through which a light shone, gave me an appetite, and i made for it. i was welcomed kindly by the woman of the house, and while the lads inspected my fine double-barrelled gun, the daughters bustled about, ground coffee, fried venison, boiled some eggs, and made me feel at once at home. "such hospitality is from the heart, and when the squatter came in, his welcome was not less genuine than that of his family. night fell; i slept soundly on some bearskins, but long before day was ready to march. my hostess was on the alert; after some breakfast she gave me a small loaf and some venison in a clean rag, and as no money would be received, i gave the lads a flask of gunpowder, a valuable article in those days to a squatter. "my way lay through woods, and many small crossroads now puzzled me, but i walked on, and must have travelled another forty-five miles. i met a party of osage indians encamped, and asked in french to stay with them. they understood me, and before long i had my supper of boiled bear's-fat and pecan-nuts, of which i ate heartily, then lay down with my feet to the fire, and slept so soundly that when i awoke my astonishment was great to find all the indians had gone hunting, and only left two dogs to keep the camp free from wolves. "i walked off gayly, my dog full of life, but met no one till four o'clock when i passed the first salt well, and thirty minutes more brought me to shawanee town. as i entered the inn i was welcomed by several whom i knew, who had come to purchase salt. i felt no fatigue, ate heartily, slept soundly without being rocked, and having come forty miles had only forty-seven more to walk to reach my home. early next morning i pursued my way; the ferry boat took me from illinois to kentucky, and as night came i found myself with my wife beside me, my child on my knee." the time from now till was the most disastrous period of audubon's life, as regarded his finances. with his brother-in-law, thomas w. bakewell, he engaged in various ventures in which, whatever others did, he lost money at every turn. the financial affairs of kentucky were, it is true, not on a very sound basis, but audubon frankly acknowledges the fault in many cases was his own. thomas w. bakewell was often in new orleans, where they had a mercantile establishment, and audubon spent not only days, but weeks and months, at his favorite pursuits. on his journeys to philadelphia to procure goods he wandered miles in all directions from the main route; when in henderson he worked, at times, very hard in the mill, for, indeed, he never did anything except intensely; but the cry of the wild geese overhead, the sound of the chattering squirrel, the song of the thrush, the flash of the humming-bird with its jewelled throat, were each and all enough to take him from work he hated as he never hated anything else. when first in henderson he bought land, and evidently had some idea of remaining there permanently; for, "on march , , he and mr. bakewell took a ninety-five years' lease of a part of the river front between first and second sts., intending to erect a grist and saw mill, which mill was completed in , and yet stands, though now incorporated in the factory of mr. david clark. the weather-boarding whip-sawed out of yellow poplar is still intact on three sides, the joists are of unhewn logs, and the foundation walls of pieces of flat broken rock are four and a half feet thick. for those days it was built on a large scale, and did the sawing for the entire country."[ ] it has been said that the inside walls had many drawings of birds on them, but this, while quite likely, has never been proved; what was proved conclusively is that, from his woodcutters, whose labors were performed on a tract of forest land of about acres, which audubon purchased from the government, to those who were his partners, by far the greater number had the advantage of him. the new orleans venture has a similar record; money left him by his father was lost by the failure of the merchant who held it until audubon could prove his right to it, and finally he left henderson absolutely penniless. he writes: "without a dollar in the world, bereft of all revenues beyond my own personal talents and acquirements, i left my dear log house, my delightful garden and orchards with that heaviest of burdens, a heavy heart, and turned my face toward louisville. this was the saddest of all my journeys,--the only time in my life when the wild turkeys that so often crossed my path, and the thousands of lesser birds that enlivened the woods and the prairies, all looked like enemies, and i turned my eyes from them, as if i could have wished that they had never existed." from louisville audubon went almost at once to shippingport, where he was kindly received by his friends nicholas berthoud, who was also his brother-in-law, and the tarascon family. here he was joined by his wife and two sons, victor gifford and john woodhouse, and again i quote from audubon's own words: "as we were straitened to the very utmost, i undertook to draw portraits at the low price of five dollars per head, in black chalk. i drew a few gratis, and succeeded so well that ere many days had elapsed i had an abundance of work; and being industrious both by nature and habit i produced a great number of those black-chalk sketches."[ ] this carried him on for some months, but the curse, or blessing, of the "wandering foot" was his, and as soon as money matters were a little ahead, off he went again to the forests. it was during these years, that is from to , that many months were passed hunting with the indians, the osage tribe being the one whose language audubon spoke. late in life he wrote: "of all the indian tribes i know, the osage are by far the superior." with them he delighted to track the birds and quadrupeds as only an indian or one of like gifts, can; from them he learned much woodcraft; with them he strengthened his already iron constitution; and in fearlessness, endurance, patience, and marvellously keen vision, no indian surpassed him. he had a wonderful gift of making and retaining friends, and even in these days of poverty and depression he never seemed too poor to help others; and certainly from others he received much kindness, which he never ceased to remember and acknowledge. through one of these friends--i believe a member of the tarascon family--he was offered a position in the museum at cincinnati. without delay, or any written agreement, audubon and his family were again ( ) in new surroundings, and the work being congenial, he entered heartily into it with mr. robert best. the promised salary was large, but being never paid audubon began drawing classes to support his modest household. in cincinnati he first met mr. daniel mallory (whose second daughter afterwards married victor g. audubon) and captain samuel cummings. this latter gentleman had many tastes similar to audubon's, and later went with him to new orleans. [illustration: john j. audubon from the miniature by f. cruikshank, published by robert havell, january , .] the life at cincinnati was one of strict economy. mrs. audubon was a woman of great ability and many resources, and with one less gifted her unpractical husband would have fared far worse than he did. to quote again: "our living here [cincinnati] is extremely moderate; the markets are well supplied and cheap, beef only two and a half cents a pound, and i am able to provide a good deal myself; partridges are frequently in the streets, and i can shoot wild turkeys within a mile or so; squirrels and woodcock are very abundant in the season, and fish always easily caught." even with these advantages, audubon, receiving no money[ ] from dr. drake, president of the museum, decided on going to new orleans. he had now a great number of drawings and the idea of publishing these had suggested itself both to him and his wife. to perfect his collection he planned going through many of the southern states, then pushing farther west, and thence returning to cincinnati. on oct. , , he left cincinnati with captain samuel cummings for new orleans, but with a long pause at natchez, did not reach that city before mid-winter, where he remained with varying success until the summer of , when he took a position as tutor in the family of mrs. charles percy of bayou sara. here, in the beloved louisiana whose praises he never wearied of singing, whose magnolia woods were more to him than palaces, whose swamps were storehouses of treasures, he stayed till autumn, when, all fear of yellow fever being over, he sent for his wife and sons. many new drawings had been made in this year of separation from them, and these were by far the greater part of the furniture in the little house in dauphine st., to which he took his family on their arrival in december, . the former life of drawing portraits, giving lessons, painting birds, and wandering through the country, began again, though there was less of this last, audubon realizing that he _must_ make money. he had had to use strong persuasions to induce mrs. audubon to join him in new orleans. she had relatives in cincinnati, as well as many friends, and several pupils brought her a small income. who, recalling her early married life, can wonder that she hesitated before leaving this home for the vicissitudes of an unknown city? she and her husband were devotedly attached to each other, but she thought more of the uncertainty for her sons than for herself. they were now boys of twelve and nine years old, and their mother, whose own education was far beyond the average, realized how unwise a thing for them the constant change was. audubon was most anxious also that his "kentucky lads," as he often called them, should be given every advantage, but he had the rare quality of being able to work equally well in any surroundings, in doors or out, and he failed to understand why others could not, just as he failed to see why his wife should ever doubt the desirability of going anywhere, at any time, under any conditions. he thus writes to her in a letter, dated new orleans, may , : "thou art not, it seems, as daring as i am about leaving one place to go to another, without the means. i am sorry for that. i never will fear want as long as i am well; and if god will grant me health with the little talents i have received from nature, i would dare go to england or anywhere, without one cent, one single letter of introduction to any one." this, as we know, was no empty boast, but the principle on which audubon proceeded numberless times in his life. his own courage, or persuasions, brought his wife, as has been said, to join him in the crescent city, and here as elsewhere that noble woman proved her courage and endurance fully equal to his, although perhaps in another line. under the date of january , , audubon writes: "two months and five days have elapsed before i could venture to dispose of one hundred and twenty-five cents to pay for this book, that probably, like all other things in the world, is ashamed to find me so poor." on march th of the same year: "during january my time was principally spent in giving lessons in painting and drawing, to supply my family and pay for the schooling of victor and johnny at a mr. branards', where they received notions of geography, arithmetic, grammar, and writing, for six dollars per month each. every moment i had to spare i drew birds for my ornithology, in which my lucy and myself alone have faith. february was spent in drawing birds strenuously, and i thought i had improved much by applying coats of water-color under the pastels, thereby preventing the appearance of the paper, that in some instances marred my best productions. i discovered also many imperfections in my earlier drawings, and formed the resolution to redraw the whole of them; consequently i hired two french hunters, who swept off every dollar that i could raise for specimens. i have few acquaintances; my wife and sons are more congenial to me than all others in the world, and we have no desire to force ourselves into a society where every day i receive fewer bows." this winter ( - ) in new orleans, proved to audubon that his wife's judgment was correct; it was not the place for them to make either a permanent income or home. true, they had been able to live with extreme simplicity, and to send the boys to school; they had had their own pleasures, as the worn, brown volume, the journal of - , with its faded entries, bears witness. there are accounts of walks and of musical evenings when they were joined by one or two friends of like tastes and talents. both played well, she on the piano, and he on a variety of instruments, principally the violin, flute, and flageolet. for over two months a fifth inmate was added to the home circle in mr. matabon, a former friend, whom audubon found one morning in the market, in a state of great poverty. he at once took him to his house and kept him as a guest, till, like micawber, "something turned up" for him to do. when this gentleman left, this entry is made: "mr. matabon's departure is regretted by us all, and we shall sorely miss his beautiful music on the flute." summer approaching, when those who purchased pictures and took drawing-lessons were about to leave the city, audubon accepted a position as tutor in the household of a mr. quaglas near natchez. mrs. audubon, who had for some time been teaching in the family of mr. brand, removed to that gentleman's house with her sons; they, however, were almost immediately sent to school at washington, nine miles from natchez, audubon's salary enabling him to do this, and in september he was joined by his wife. while at natchez, the long summer days permitted the drawing of birds as well as the teaching, which was conscientiously performed, and the hope of eventually publishing grew stronger. in the autumn of this year ( ), audubon met a portrait painter named john steen or stein, from washington, pa., and thus writes, december, : "he gave me the first lesson in painting in oils i ever took in my life; it was a copy of an otter from one of my water-colors. together we painted a full length portrait of père antonio, which was sent to havana." january, , brought fresh changes. mrs. audubon, with her son john, went to mrs. percy's plantation, beechwoods, to teach not only marguerite percy, but also the daughters of the owners of the neighboring plantations, and audubon, with victor and mr. steen, started on a tour of the southern states in a dearborn, intending to paint for their support. the journal says, march, ; "i regretted deeply leaving my natchez friends, especially charles carré and dr. provan. the many birds i had collected to take to france i made free; some of the doves had become so fond of me that i was obliged to chase them to the woods, fearing the wickedness of the boys, who would, no doubt, have with pleasure destroyed them." so it would seem boys then were much the same as now. jackson and other places were visited, and finally new orleans, whence audubon started for louisville with victor, may . the whole of this summer ( ) was one of enjoyment in many ways to the naturalist. he felt his wife was in a delightful home (where she remained many years), beloved by those around her; victor now was nearly fourteen, handsome, strong, and very companionable, old for his years, and as his father was always young for his, they were good comrades, and till both were attacked by yellow fever, the days passed smoothly on. nursed through this malady by the ever devoted wife and mother, who had come to them at once on hearing they were ill, some time was spent at the beechwoods to recuperate, and on october , , audubon with victor departed for kentucky by boat. the water being low, their progress was greatly delayed; he became impatient and at trinity left the boat with his son and two gentlemen, and walked to louisville. this walk, of which we have a full published account[ ] began on october , and on the st they reached green river, when victor becoming weary, the remaining distance was performed in a wagon. it was on this journey, which audubon undertook fearing, so he says, that he should not have enough money to provide for himself and victor in louisville beyond a few weeks, that he relates this incident: "the squatter had a black wolf, perfectly gentle, and completely under the control of his master; i put my hand in my pocket and took out a hundred-dollar bill, which i offered for it, but it was refused. i respected the man for his attachment to the wolf, for i doubted if he had ever seen a hundred dollars before." louisville was speedily quitted for shippingport, where audubon engaged a room for victor and himself, and painted all winter ( - ) at birds, landscapes, portraits, and even signs. shippingport was then a small village with mills, and was largely owned by the tarascons and berthouds, the latter living in the mansion of the place, and possessed of a very beautiful garden. steamers and boats for the river traffic were built here, and it was a stirring place for its size, situated on the falls of the ohio, about two miles from louisville then, but now part of that city. with forests and river to solace his anxieties, another season was passed by the man whose whole energies were now bent on placing his work before the best judges in europe. this winter too, he lost one of his best and dearest friends, madame berthoud; how he felt this parting his own words best tell: "january , . i arose this morning by that transparent light which is the effect of the moon before dawn, and saw dr. middleton passing at full gallop towards the white house; i followed--alas! my old friend was dead! what a void in the world for me! i was silent; many tears fell from my eyes, accustomed to sorrow. it was impossible for me to work; my heart, restless, moved from point to point all round the compass of my life. ah, lucy! what have i felt to-day! how can i bear the loss of our truest friend? this has been a sad day, most truly; i have spent it thinking, thinking, learning, weighing my thoughts, and quite sick of life. i wished i had been as quiet as my venerable friend, as she lay for the last time in her room." as i turn over the pages of this volume[ ] from which only a few extracts have been taken, well do i understand the mental suffering of which it tells so constantly. poverty for himself, audubon did not mind, but for those he loved it was a great and bitter trial to him. his keenly sensitive nature was wounded on every hand; no one but his wife, from whom he was now absent, had any faith in him or his genius. he never became indifferent, as most of us do, to the coldness of those who had in earlier days sought him, not for what he _was_, but for what he _had_. chivalrous, generous, and courteous to his heart's core, he could not believe others less so, till painful experiences taught him; then he was grieved, hurt, but never imbittered; and more marvellous yet, with his faith in his fellows as strong as ever, again and again he subjected himself to the same treatment. this was not stupidity, nor dulness of perception; it was that always, even to the end, audubon kept the freshness of childhood; he was one of those who had "the secret of youth;" he was "old in years only, his heart was young. the earth was fair; plants still bloomed, and birds still sang for him."[ ] it has been hard for me to keep from copying much from this journal, but i have felt it too sacred. some would see in it the very heart of the man who wrote it, but to others--and the greater number--it would be, as i have decided to leave it, a sealed book. early in march, , audubon left shippingport for philadelphia, victor remaining in the counting-house of mr. berthoud. he had some money, with which he decided to take lessons in painting either from rembrandt peale or thomas sully. he much preferred the latter both as artist and friend, and he remained in philadelphia from april until august of the same year. this visit was marked by his introduction to charles lucien bonaparte[ ] and edward harris, both of whom became life-long friends, especially mr. harris, with whom he corresponded frequently when they were separated, and with whom he made many journeys, the most prolonged and important being that to the yellowstone in . to copy again: "april , . i was introduced to the son of lucien bonaparte, nephew of napoleon, a great ornithologist, i was told. he remained two hours, went out, and returned with two italian gentlemen, and their comments made me very contented." that evening he was taken to the philosophical academy[ ] where the drawings were greatly admired, and their author says: "_i_ do not think much of them except when in the very act of drawing them." at this meeting mr. george ord met audubon and objected strongly to the birds and plants being drawn together, "but spoke well of them otherwise." mr. ord was one of those (of the very few, i might say) who disliked the naturalist from first to last,[ ] who was perhaps, his bitterest enemy. in later years dr. john bachman resented his conduct, and wrote a very trenchant reply[ ] to one of mr. ord's published articles about audubon; but there is no word of anger anywhere in the letters or journals, only of regret or pain.[ ] of mr. harris we find this: "july , . i drew for mr. fairman a small grouse to be put on a bank-note belonging to the state of new-jersey; this procured me the acquaintance of a young man named edward harris of moorestown, an ornithologist, who told me he had seen some english snipes[ ] within a few days, and that they bred in the marshes about him." and also: "july th. young harris, god bless him, looked at the drawings i had for sale, and said he would take them _all_, at my prices. i would have kissed him, but that it is not the custom in this icy city." other friends were made here, almost as valuable as mr. harris, though not as well _loved_, for these two were truly congenial souls, who never wearied of each other, and between whom there was never a shadow of difference. thomas sully, the artist, dr. richard harlan,[ ] reuben haines, le sueur,[ ] dr. mease, and many another honored name might be given. in august philadelphia was quitted, and another period of travel in search of birds was begun. of this next year, , no record whatever can be found besides the episodes of "niagara" and "meadville," and two detached pages of journal. audubon went to new york, up the hudson, along the great lakes, then to pittsburg, and finally to bayou sara, where, having decided to go to england, he made up his mind to resume at once his classes in drawing, music, and dancing, to make money for the european journey, for which he never ceased to accumulate pictures of his beloved birds. reaching bayou sara in december, , this work at once began by giving lessons in dancing to the young ladies under my grandmother's care; and judge randolph, a near neighbor, had his sons take lessons in fencing. in these branches audubon was so successful that the residents of the village of woodville, fifteen miles distant, engaged him for friday and saturday of each week, and here he had over sixty pupils. from the account of this class i take the following: "i marched to the hall with my violin under my arm, bowed to the company assembled, tuned my violin; played a cotillon, and began my lesson by placing the gentlemen in a line. oh! patience support me! how i labored before i could promote the first appearance of elegance or ease of motion; in doing this i first broke my bow, and then my violin; i then took the ladies and made them take steps, as i sang in time to accompany their movements." these lessons continued three months, and were in every sense a success, audubon realizing about $ from his winter's work. with this, and the greater part of the savings of his wife, which she had hoarded to forward this journey, so long the goal of their hopes, another farewell was taken, the many valued drawings packed up, and on april , , the vessel with the naturalist and his precious freight left new orleans for england. the journals from this date, until may , , are kept with the usual regularity, and fortunately have escaped the destruction which has befallen earlier volumes. they tell of one of the most interesting periods of audubon's life, and are given beyond,--not entire, yet so fully that i pass on at once to the last date they contain, which marks audubon's return to america, may , . his time abroad had seen the publication of the "birds of america"[ ] successfully begun, had procured him subscribers enough to warrant his continuing the vast undertaking, and had given him many friends. his object now was to make drawings of birds which he had not yet figured for the completion of his work, and then to take his wife, and possibly his sons with him to england. during these years mrs. audubon was latterly alone, as john had taken a position with victor and was in louisville. victor, meantime, had worked steadily and faithfully, and had earned for himself a position and a salary far beyond that of most young men of his age. both parents relied on him to an extent that is proof in itself of his unusual ability; these words in a letter from his father, dated london, dec. , , "victor's letters to me are highly interesting, full of candor, sentiment, and sound judgment, and i am very proud of him," are certainly testimony worth having. as the years went on both sons assisted their father in every way, and to an extent that the world has never recognized. great as was audubon's wish to proceed without delay to louisiana, he felt it due to his subscribers to get to work at once, and wrote to his wife under date of new york, may , : "i have landed here from on board the packet ship columbia after an agreeable passage of thirty-five days from portsmouth. i have come to america to remain as long as consistent with the safety of the continuation of my publication in london without my personal presence. according to future circumstances i shall return to england on the st of october next, or, if possible, not until april, . i wish to employ and devote every moment of my sojourn in america to drawing such birds and plants as i think necessary to enable me to give my publication throughout the degree of perfection that i am told exists in that portion already published. i have left my business going on quite well; my engraver[ ] has in his hands all the drawings wanted to complete this present year, and those necessary to form the first number of next year. i have finished the two first years of publication, the two most difficult years to be encountered." to victor he writes from camden, n.j., july , : "i shall this year have issued ten numbers, each containing five plates, making in all fifty.[ ] i cannot publish more than five numbers annually, because it would make too heavy an expense to my subscribers, and indeed require more workmen than i could find in london. the work when finished will contain eighty numbers,[ ] therefore i have seventy to issue, which will take fourteen years more. it is a long time to look forward to, but it cannot be helped. i think i am doing well; i have now one hundred and forty-four subscribers." all this summer and early fall, until october th, audubon spent in the neighborhood of new jersey and pennsylvania, working as few can work, four hours continuing to be his allowance for sleep. six weeks in september and october were spent in the great pine swamp, or forest,[ ] as he called it, his permanent lodgings being at camden, n.j. here he writes, october , : "i am at work and have done much, but i wish i had eight pairs of hands, and another body to shoot the specimens; still i am delighted at what i have accumulated in drawings this season. forty-two drawings in four months, eleven large, eleven middle size, and twenty-two small, comprising ninety-five birds, from eagles downwards, with plants, nests, flowers, and sixty different kinds of eggs. i live alone, see scarcely any one, besides those belonging to the house where i lodge. i rise long before day and work till nightfall, when i take a walk, and to bed. "i returned yesterday from mauch chunk; after all, there is nothing perfect but _primitiveness_, and my efforts at copying nature, like all other things attempted by us poor mortals, fall far short of the originals. few better than myself can appreciate this with more despondency than i do." very shortly after this date audubon left for louisiana, crossed the alleghanies to pittsburg, down the ohio by boat to louisville, where he saw victor and john. "dear boys!" he says; "i had not seen victor for nearly five years, and so much had he changed i hardly knew him, but he recognized me at once. johnny too had much grown and improved." remaining with his sons a few days, he again took the boat for bayou sara, where he landed in the middle of the night. the journal says: "it was dark, sultry, and i was quite alone. i was aware yellow fever was still raging at st. francisville, but walked thither to procure a horse. being only a mile distant, i soon reached it, and entered the open door of a house i knew to be an inn; all was dark and silent. i called and knocked in vain, it was the abode of death alone! the air was putrid; i went to another house, another, and another; everywhere the same state of things existed; doors and windows were all open, but the living had fled. finally i reached the home of mr. nübling, whom i knew. he welcomed me, and lent me his horse, and i went off at a gallop. it was so dark that i soon lost my way, but i cared not, i was about to rejoin my wife, i was in the woods, the woods of louisiana, my heart was bursting with joy! the first glimpse of dawn set me on my road, at six o'clock i was at mr. johnson's house;[ ] a servant took the horse, i went at once to my wife's apartment; her door was ajar, already she was dressed and sitting by her piano, on which a young lady was playing. i pronounced her name gently, she saw me, and the next moment i held her in my arms. her emotion was so great i feared i had acted rashly, but tears relieved our hearts, once more we were together." audubon remained in louisiana with his wife till january, , when together they went to louisville, washington, philadelphia, and new york, whence they sailed for england in april. all his former friends welcomed them on their arrival, and the kindness the naturalist had received on his first visit was continued to his wife as well as himself. finding many subscribers had not paid, and others had lapsed, he again painted numerous pictures for sale, and journeyed hither and yon for new subscribers as well as to make collections. mrs. audubon, meanwhile, had taken lodgings in london, but that city being no more to her taste than to her husband's, she joined him, and they travelled together till october, when to audubon's joy he found himself at his old lodgings at george st., edinburgh, where he felt truly at home with mrs. dickie; and here he began the "ornithological biography," with many misgivings, as the journal bears witness: "oct. , . i know that i am a poor writer, that i scarcely can manage to scribble a tolerable english letter, and not a much better one in french, though that is easier to me. i know i am not a scholar, but meantime i am aware that no man living knows better than i do the habits of our birds; no man living has studied them as much as i have done, and with the assistance of my old journals and memorandum-books which were written on the spot, i can at least put down plain truths, which may be useful and perhaps interesting, so i shall set to at once. i cannot, however, give _scientific_ descriptions, and here must have assistance." his choice of an assistant would have been his friend mr. william swainson, but this could not be arranged, and mr. james wilson recommended mr. william macgillivray.[ ] of this gentleman mr. d. g. elliot says:[ ] "no better or more fortunate choice could have been made. audubon worked incessantly, macgillivray keeping abreast of him, and mrs. audubon re-wrote the entire manuscript to send to america, and secure the copyright there." the happy result of this association of two great men, so different in most respects as audubon and macgillivray, is characterized by dr. coues in the following terms ("key to north american birds," d ed., , p. xxii): "vivid and ardent was his genius, matchless he was both with pen and pencil in giving life and spirit to the beautiful objects he delineated with passionate love; but there was a strong and patient worker by his side,--william macgillivray, the countryman of wilson, destined to lend the sturdy scotch fibre to an audubonian epoch.[ ] the brilliant french-american naturalist was little of a 'scientist'. of his work the magical beauties of form and color and movement are all his; his page is redolent of nature's fragrance; but macgillivray's are the bone and sinew, the hidden anatomical parts beneath the lovely face, the nomenclature, the classification,--in a word, the technicalities of the science." [illustration: mrs. audubon. from the miniature by f. cruikshank, .] though somewhat discouraged at finding that no less than three editions of alexander wilson's "american ornithology" were about to be published, audubon went bravely on. my grandmother wrote to her sons: "nothing is heard, but the steady movement of the pen; your father is up and at work before dawn, and writes without ceasing all day. mr. macgillivray breakfasts at nine each morning, attends the museum four days in the week, has several works on hand besides ours, and is moreover engaged as a lecturer in a new seminary on botany and natural history. his own work[ ] progresses slowly, but surely, for he writes until far into the night." the first volume of "ornithological biography" was finished, but no publisher could be found to take it, so audubon published it himself in march, .[ ] during this winter an agreement had been made with mr. j. b. kidd to copy some of the birds, put in backgrounds, sell them, and divide the proceeds. eight were finished and sold immediately, and the agreement continued till may, , , when audubon was so annoyed by mr. kidd's lack of industry that the copying was discontinued. personally, i have no doubt that many of the paintings which are said to be by audubon are these copies. they are all on mill-board,--a material, however, which grandfather used himself, so that, as he rarely signed an oil painting,[ ] the mill-board is no proof of identity one way or the other. on april , , mr. and mrs. audubon left edinburgh for london, then went on to paris, where there were fourteen subscribers. they were in france from may until the end of july, when london again received them. on august d they sailed for america, and landed on september th. they went to louisville at once, where mrs. audubon remained with her sons, and the naturalist went south, his wish being to visit florida and the adjacent islands. it was on this trip that, stopping at charleston, s.c., he made the acquaintance of the rev. john bachman[ ] in october, . the two soon became the closest friends, and this friendship was only severed by death. never were men more dissimilar in character, but both were enthusiastic and devoted naturalists; and herein was the bond, which later was strengthened by the marriages of victor and john to dr. bachman's two eldest daughters.[ ] the return from florida in the spring of was followed by a journey to new brunswick and maine, when, for the first time in many years, the whole family travelled together. they journeyed in the most leisurely manner, stopping where there were birds, going on when they found none, everywhere welcomed, everywhere finding those willing to render assistance to the "american backwoodsman" in his researches. audubon had the simplicity and charm of manner which interested others at once, and his old friend dr. bachman understood this when he wrote: "audubon has _given_ to him what nobody else can _buy_." on this maine journey, the friendship between the lincolns at dennysville, begun in the wanderer's earlier years, was renewed, and with this hospitable family mrs. audubon remained while her husband and sons made their woodland researches. in october of , victor sailed for england, to superintend the publishing of the work; his father remained in america drawing and re-drawing, much of the time in boston, where, as everywhere, many friends were made, and where he had a short, but severe illness--an unusual experience with him. in the spring of , the long proposed trip to labrador was planned and undertaken. the schooner "ripley," captain emery commanding, was chartered. audubon was accompanied by five young men, all under twenty-four years of age, namely: joseph coolidge, george c. shattuck, william ingalls, thomas lincoln and john woodhouse, the naturalist's younger son. on june they sailed for the rocky coasts and storm-beaten islands, which are so fully described in the labrador journal, now first published entire in the present work. victor was still in england, and to him his father wrote, on may , , a long letter filled with careful directions as to the completion of the work now so far accomplished, and which was so dear--as it is to-day--to all the family. the entire letter is too long and too personal to give beyond a few extracts: "should the author of all things deprive us of our lives, work for and comfort the dear being who gave you birth. work for her, my son, as long as it may be the pleasure of god to grant her life; never neglect her a moment; in a word, prove to her that you are truly _a son_! continue the publication of our work to the last; you have in my journals all necessary facts, and in yourself sufficient ability to finish the letter-press, with the assistance of our worthy friend john bachman, as well as macgillivray. if you should deem it wise to remove the publication of the work to this country, i advise you to settle in boston; _i have faith in the bostonians_. i entreat you to be careful, industrious, and persevering; pay every one most punctually, and never permit your means to be over-reached. may the blessings of those who love you be always with you, supported by those of almighty god." during the labrador voyage, which was both arduous and expensive, many bird-skins (seventy-three) were prepared and brought back, besides the drawings made, a large collection of plants, and other curiosities. rough as the experience was, it was greatly enjoyed, especially by the young men. only one of these[ ] is now living ( ), and he bears this testimony to the character of the naturalist, with whom he spent three months in the closest companionship. in a letter to me dated oct. , , he says: "you had only to meet him to love him; and when you had conversed with him for a moment, you looked upon him as an old friend, rather than a stranger.... to this day i can see him, a magnificent gray-haired man, childlike in his simplicity, kind-hearted, noble-souled, lover of nature and lover of youth, friend of humanity, and one whose religion was the golden rule." the labrador expedition ended with summer, and mr. and mrs. audubon went southward by land, john going by water to meet them at charleston, s.c.,--victor meanwhile remaining in london. in the ever hospitable home of the bachmans part of the winter of - was spent, and many a tale is told of hunting parties, of camping in the southern forests, while the drawings steadily increased in number. leaving charleston, the travels were continued through north and south carolina and northward to new york, when the three sailed for liverpool april , and joined victor in london, in may, . it has been erroneously stated that audubon kept no journals during this second visit to england and scotland, for the reasons that his family--for whom he wrote--was with him, and also that he worked so continuously for the "ornithological biography;" but this is a mistake. many allusions to the diaries of these two years from april, , until august, , are found, and conclusive proof is that victor writes: "on the th of july last, , the copper-plates from which the "birds of america" had been printed were ruined by fire,[ ] though not entirely destroyed, as were many of my fathers journals,--most unfortunately those which he had written during his residence in london and edinburgh while writing and publishing the letter-press." it was at this time that victor and john went to the continent for five months, being with their parents the remainder of the time, both studying painting in their respective branches, victor working at landscapes, john at portraits and birds. in july, , audubon and john returned to america, to find that nearly everything in the way of books, papers, the valuable and curious things collected both at home and abroad, had been destroyed in new york in the fire of , mr. berthoud's warehouse being one of those blown up with gunpowder to stay the spread of the fire. mrs. audubon and victor remained in london, in the house where they had lived some time, wimpole st., cavendish square. after a few weeks in new york, father and son went by land to charleston, pausing at washington and other cities; and being joined by mr. edward harris in the spring of , they left dr. bachman's where they had spent the winter, for the purpose of exploring part of the coast of the gulf of mexico. this expedition they were assisted in making by col. john abert,[ ] who procured them the revenue cutter "campbell." fire having afterward (in ) destroyed the journals of this period, only a few letters remain to tell us of the coasting voyage to galveston bay, texas, though the ornithological results of this journey are all in the "birds of america." it was during this visit to charleston that the plans were begun which led to the "quadrupeds of north america," under the joint authorship of audubon and bachman.[ ] in the late summer of , audubon, with john and his wife,--for he had married maria, dr. bachman's eldest daughter,--returned to england, his last voyage there, and remained abroad until the autumn of , when the family, with the addition of the first grandchild,[ ] once more landed in america, and settled, if such wanderers can ever be said to settle, in new york, in the then uptown region of white st. the great ornithological work had been finished, absolutely completed,[ ] in the face of incredible delays and difficulties, and representing an amount of work which in these days of easy travel it is hard to comprehend. the "synopsis" also was published in this year, and the indefatigable worker began at once the octavo edition of the "birds," and the drawings of the quadrupeds. for this edition of the "birds" victor attended almost wholly to the printing and publishing, and john reduced every drawing to the required size with the aid of the camera lucida, audubon devoting his time to the coloring and obtaining of subscribers. having fully decided to settle in new york city, and advised their friends to that effect, audubon found he could not live in any city, except, as he writes, "perhaps fair edinburgh;" so in the spring of , the town house was sold, and the family moved to "minniesland," now known as audubon park, in the present limits of new york city. the name came from the fact that my father and uncle always used the scotch name "minnie" for mother. the land when bought was deeded to her, and always spoken of as _minnie's land_, and this became the name which the audubons gave it, by which to day those of us who are left recall the lovely home where their happy childhood was spent; for here were born all but three of the fourteen grandchildren. no railroad then separated the lawn from the beach where audubon so often hauled the seine; the dense woods all around resounded to the songs of the birds he so loved; many animals (deer, elk, moose, bears, wolves, foxes, and smaller quadrupeds) were kept in enclosures--never in cages--mostly about a quarter of a mile distant from the river, near the little building known as the "painting house." what joyous memories are those of the rush out of doors, lessons being over, to the little brook, following which one gathered the early blossoms in their season, or in the autumn cleared out leaves, that its waters might flow unimpeded, and in winter found icicles of wondrous shape and beauty; and just beyond its source stood the painting house, where every child was always welcome,[ ] where the wild flowers from hot little hands were painted in the pictures of what we called "the animals," to the everlasting pride and glory of their finder. it was hoped that only shorter trips would now be taken, and a visit to canada as far as quebec was made in august and september of . but even in this home after his own tastes, where hospitality and simplicity ruled, audubon could not stay, for his heart had always been set on going farther west, and though both family and friends thought him growing too old for such a journey, he started in march, , for st. louis, and thence up the missouri on the steamboat "omega" of the american fur company, which left on its annual trip april , , taking up supplies of all sorts, and returning with thousands of skins and furs. here again audubon speaks for himself, and i shall not now anticipate his account with words of mine, as the missouri journal follows in full. he was accompanied on this trip by mr. edward harris, his faithful friend of many years, john g. bell as taxidermist, isaac sprague as artist, and lewis squires as secretary and general assistant. with the exception of mr. harris, all were engaged by audubon, who felt his time was short, his duties many, while the man of seventy (?) had no longer the strength of youth. november of saw him once more at minniesland, and the _long_ journeys were forever over; but work on the "quadrupeds" was continued with the usual energy. the next few years were those of great happiness. his valued friend dr. thomas m. brewer, of boston, visited him in . writing of him dr. brewer says:[ ] "the patriarch had greatly changed since i had last seen him. he wore his hair longer, and it now hung down in locks of snowy whiteness on his shoulders. his once piercing gray eyes, though still bright, had already begun to fail him. he could no longer paint with his wonted accuracy, and had at last, most reluctantly, been forced to surrender to his sons the task of completing the illustrations to the "quadrupeds of north america." surrounded by his large family, including his devoted wife, his two sons with their wives,[ ] and quite a troop of grandchildren, his enjoyments of life seemed to leave him little to desire.... a pleasanter scene, or a more interesting household it has never been the writer's good fortune to witness." of this period one of his daughters-in-law[ ] speaks in her journal as follows: "mr. audubon was of a most kindly nature; he never passed a workman or a stranger of either sex without a salutation, such as, 'good-day, friend,' 'well, my good man, how do you do?' if a boy, it was, 'well, my little man,' or a little girl, 'good morning, lassie, how are you to-day?' all were noticed, and his pleasant smile was so cordial that all the villagers and work-people far and near, knew and liked him. he painted a little after his return from the yellowstone river, but as he looked at his son john's animals, he said: 'ah, johnny, no need for the old man to paint any more when you can do work like that.' he was most affectionate in his disposition, very fond of his grandchildren, and it was a pleasant sight to see him sit with one on his knee, and others about him, singing french songs in his lively way. it was sweet too, to see him with his wife; he was always her lover, and invariably used the pronouns 'thee' and 'thou' in his speech to her. often have i heard him say, 'well, sweetheart! always busy; come sit thee down a few minutes and rest.'" my mother has told me that when the picture of the cougars came from texas, where my father had painted it, my grandfather's delight knew no bounds. he was beside himself with joy that "his boy johnny" could paint a picture he considered so fine; he looked at it from every point, and could not keep quiet, but walked up and down filled with delight. of these years much might be said, but much has already been written of them, so i will not repeat.[ ] many characteristics audubon kept to the last; his enthusiasm, freshness, and keenness of enjoyment and pain were never blunted. his ease and grace of speech and movement were as noticeable in the aged man as they had been in the happy youth of mill grove. his courteous manners to all, high and low, were always the same; his chivalry, generosity, and honor were never dimmed, and his great personal beauty never failed to attract attention; always he was handsome. his stepmother writes from nantes to her husband in virginia: "he is the handsomest boy in nantes, but perhaps not the most studious." at mill grove mr. david pawling wrote in january, : "to-day i saw the swiftest skater i ever beheld; backwards and forwards he went like the wind, even leaping over large air-holes fifteen or more feet across, and continuing to skate without an instant's delay. i was told he was a young frenchman, and this evening i met him at a ball, where i found his dancing exceeded his skating; all the ladies wished him as partner; moreover, a handsomer man i never saw, his eyes alone command attention; his name, audubon, is strange to me." [illustration: audubon. date unknown. from a daguerreotype owned by m. eliza audubon.] abroad it was the same; mr. rathbone speaks of "his beautiful expressive face," as did christopher north, and so on until the beauty of youth and manhood passed into the "magnificent gray-haired man." but "the gay young frenchman who danced with all the girls," was an old man now, not so much as the years go, but in the intensity of his life. he had never done anything by halves; he had played and worked, enjoyed and sorrowed, been depressed and elated, each and all with his highly strung nature at fever heat, and the end was not far. he had seen the accomplishment of his hopes in the "birds," and the "quadrupeds" he was content to leave largely to other hands; and surely no man ever had better helpers. from first to last his wife had worked, in more ways than one, to further the aim of his life; victor had done the weary mechanical business work; john had hunted, and preserved specimens, taken long journeys--notably to texas and california--and been his father's travelling companion on more than one occasion. now the time had come when he no longer led; victor had full charge of the publication of the "quadrupeds," besides putting in many of the backgrounds, and john painted a large proportion of the animals. but i think that none of them regarded their work as individual,--it was always _ours_, for father and sons were comrades and friends; and with dr. bachman's invaluable aid this last work was finished, but not during audubon's life. he travelled more or less in the interests of his publications during these years, largely in new england and in the middle states. in the brilliant intellect began to be dimmed; at first it was only the difficulty of finding the right word to express an idea, the gradual lessening of interest, and this increased till in may, , dr. bachman tells the pathetic close of the enthusiastic and active life: "alas, my poor friend audubon! the outlines of his beautiful face and form are there, but his noble mind is all in ruins. it is indescribably sad." through these last years the devotion of the entire household was his. he still loved to wander in the woods, he liked to hear his wife read to him, and music was ever a delight. to the very last his daughter-in-law, mrs. victor g. audubon, sang a little spanish song to him every evening, rarely permitting anything to interfere with what gave him so much pleasure, and evening by evening he listened to the _buenas noches_, which was so soon to be his in reality. his grandchildren, also, were a constant source of enjoyment to him, and he to them, for children always found a friend in him; and thus quietly did he pass through that valley which had no shadows for him. i wish to wholly correct the statement that audubon became blind. his sight became impaired by old age, as is usually the case; he abhorred spectacles or glasses of any kind, would not wear them except occasionally, and therefore did not get the right focus for objects near by; but his far-sight was hardly impaired. that wonderful vision which surprised even the keen-eyed indian never failed him. [illustration: audubon monument in trinity church cemetery, new york. _the reverse of the base bears the inscription_-- erected to the memory of john james audubon in the year , by subscriptions raised by the new york academy of science.] well do i remember the tall figure with snow-white hair, wandering peacefully along the banks of the beautiful hudson. already he was resting in that border land which none can fathom, and it could not have been far to go, no long and weary journey, when, after a few days of increasing feebleness, for there was no illness, just as sunset was flooding the pure, snow-covered landscape with golden light, at five o'clock on monday, january , , the "pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift, ... outsoared the shadow of our night." * * * * * in a quiet spot in trinity church cemetery, not far from the home where audubon spent his last years, the remains of the naturalist were laid with all honor and respect, on the thursday following his death. time brought changes which demanded the removal of the first burial-place, and a second one was chosen in the same cemetery, which is now marked by the beautiful monument erected by the new york academy of sciences.[ ] now wife and sons have joined him; together they rest undisturbed by winter storms or summer heat; the river they loved so well flows past their silent home as in days long gone when its beauties won their hearts. truly the place where they dwelt shall know them no more, but "while the melody of the mocking-bird is heard in the cypress forests of louisiana, and the squirrel leaps from its leafy curtain like a thing of beauty, the name of audubon will live in the hearts of coming generations." footnotes: [ ] "my name is john james laforest audubon. the name laforest i never sign except when writing to my wife, and she is the only being, since my father's death, who calls me by it." (letter of audubon to mrs. rathbone, .) all mrs. audubon's letters to her husband address him as laforest. [ ] this manuscript was found in an old book which had been in a barn on staten island for years. [ ] reprinted from scribner's magazine, march, , p. . a few errors in names and dates are now corrected. [ ] isle à vache, eight miles south of aux cayes. [ ] this vessel was the "annelle." [ ] the family still own this portrait, of which victor g. audubon writes: "this portrait is probably the _first_ one taken of that great and good man, and although the drawing is hard, the coloring and costume are correct, i have no doubt. it was copied by greenhow, the sculptor, when he was preparing to model his 'washington' for the capitol, and he considered it as a valuable addition to the material already obtained. this portrait was painted by an artist named polk, but who or what he was, i know not." [ ] there still remain those who recall how audubon would walk up and down, snapping his fingers, a habit he had when excited, when relating how he had seen his aunt tied to a wagon and dragged through the streets of nantes in the time of carrier. [ ] this brother left three daughters; only one married, and her descendants, if any, cannot be traced. [ ] "the polly," captain sammis commander. [ ] may , . [ ] great blue heron. [ ] this visit passed into history in the published works of each of the great ornithologists, who were never friends. see "behind the veil," by dr. coues in bulletin of nuttall ornithological club, oct., , p. . [ ] episode "breaking of the ice." [ ] . [ ] stephen harriman long, corps of engineers, u.s. army, who was then on his way to explore the region of the upper mississippi and minnesota rivers. [ ] titian r. peale, afterward naturalist of the u.s. exploring expedition, under commodore wilkes. later in life he was for many years an examiner in the patent office at washington, and died at a very advanced age. he was a member of the eminent peale family of artists, one of whom established peale's museum in philadelphia.--e. c. [ ] the distinguished naturalist of that name.--e. c. [ ] jacques louis david ( - ), court painter to louis xvi. and afterwards to napoleon i. [ ] in , audubon wrote to dr. john bachman: "some of my early drawings of european birds are still in our possession, but many have been given away, and the greatest number were destroyed, not by the rats that gnawed my collection of the "birds of america," but by the great fire in new york, as these drawings were considered my wife's special property and seldom out of her sight. would that the others had been under her especial care also! yet, after all, who can say that it was not a material advantage, both to myself and to the world, that the norway rats destroyed those drawings?" [ ] mr. w. h. wetherill, of philadelphia. [ ] april , . [ ] "i have often seen the red-sandstone monument placed to mark the terminal of the sullivan bridge on our side of the river, but the curiosity hunters have so marred it that only 'livans' and part of the date remain." (extract from letter of mr. w. h. wetherill, aug. , .) [ ] this statement is from the "pennsylvania magazine of history and biography," vol. xiv., no. , page , july, . [ ] "under the will of col. jno. macomb wetherill, late owner of fatland farm, feet square were deeded out of the farm, and placed in trust, and $ trusteed to keep the grove and lot in order. a granite curb and heavy iron rail surround this plot; col. wetherill was buried there and his remains lie with those of your ancestors." (extract from letter of w. h. wetherill, may , .) [ ] from "history of henderson county, kentucky," by e. l. starling, page . [ ] of these many sketches few can be traced, and none purchased. [ ] mrs. audubon afterwards received four hundred dollars, of the twelve hundred dollars due; the remainder was never paid. [ ] see episode: "a tough walk for a youth." [ ] the before-mentioned journal, - . [ ] (with slight alterations) from "bird life," by f. m. chapman, , p. . [ ] prince of musignano, and subsequently a distinguished ornithologist. in march, , bonaparte was just publishing his "observations on the nomenclature of wilson's ornithology," which ran through the "journal of the academy of natural sciences," of philadelphia, from april , , to aug. , , in five parts. this was preliminary to bonaparte's "american ornithology," which appeared in four quarto vols., - , to his "synopsis," of , and to his "comparative list," of .--e. c. [ ] probably the academy of natural sciences. [ ] ord had edited the posthumous vols. viii. and ix. of "wilson's ornithology," which appeared in ; and in was engaged upon that edition of wilson which was published in vols. vo, in - , with a folio atlas of plates. this is probably enough to account for his attitude toward audubon.--e. c. [ ] "defence of audubon," by john bachman. "bucks co. intelligencer," , and other papers. [ ] almost the only other enemy audubon appears to have ever had in public print was charles waterton, who vehemently assailed him in "loudon's magazine of natural history," vi. , pp. - , and vii., , pp. - . audubon was warmly defended by his son victor in the same magazine, vi. , p. , and at greater length by "r. b.," _ibid._, pp. - . dr. coues characterizes waterton's attack as "flippant and supercilious animadversion," in "birds of the colorado valley," , p. . the present is hardly the occasion to bring up the countless reviews and notices of audubon's published life-work; but a few references i have at hand may be given. one of the earliest, if not the first, appeared in the "edinburgh journal of science," vi. p. ( ). in , audubon himself published "an account of the method of drawing birds," etc., in the same journal, viii., pp. - . the "report of a committee appointed by the lyceum of natural history of new york to examine the splendid work of mr. audubon," etc., appeared in "silliman's journal," xvi., , pp. , . his friend william swainson published some highly commendatory and justly appreciative articles on the same subject in "loudon's magazine," i., , pp. - , and in the "edinburgh new philosophical journal," x., , pp. - , under the pseudonym "ornithophilus." another anonymous review, highly laudatory, appeared in the same journal, xviii., , pp. - . dr. john bachman defended the truthfulness of audubon's drawings in the "journal of the boston society of natural history," i. , pp. - . one of the most extended notices appeared anonymously in the "north american review," july, , pp. - ; and another signed "b," in "loudon's magazine," viii., , pp. - . in germany, "isis von oken" contained others, xxx., , pp. - , xxxv., , pp. , ; and xxxvii., , pp. - . "silliman's journal" again reviewed the work in xlii., , pp. - .--e. c. [ ] that is the species now known as wilson's snipe, _gallinago delicata_. [ ] dr. richard harlan is the author of the well-known "fauna americana," vo, philadelphia, , and of many scientific papers. audubon dedicated to him the black warrior, _falco harlani_, a large, dark hawk of the genus _buteo_, shot at st. francisville, la., nov. , . [ ] charles alexandre le sueur, - , distinguished french naturalist. best biography in youman's "pioneers of science in america," vo, n.y., , pp. - , with portrait. the same volume contains a biographical sketch of audubon, pp. - , with portrait after the oil painting by george p. a. healy, belonging to the boston society of natural history.--e. c. [ ] of the great folios, parts i.-v., containing plates - , were originally published at successive dates (not ascertained) in ; parts vi.-x., plates - , appeared in the course of ,--all in london. the whole work was completed in ; it is supposed to have been issued in parts of plates each, making the actual total of plates, giving figures of birds. on the completion of the series, the plates were to be bound in vols. vol. i., pll. - , - ; vol. ii., pll. - , - ; vol. iii., pll. - , - ; vol. iv., pll. - , - (completed june ). these folios had no text except the title-leaf of each volume. the original price was two guineas a part; a complete copy is now worth $ , to $ , , according to condition of binding, etc., and is scarce at any price. the text to the plates appeared under the different title of "ornithological biography," in large vo volumes, edinburgh, - ; vol. i., ; vol. ii., ; vol. iii., ; vol. iv., ; vol. v., . in - , the work reappeared in octavo, text and plates together, under the original title of "birds of america;" the text somewhat modified by the omission of the "delineations of american scenery and manners," the addition of some new matter acquired after , and change in the names of many species to agree with the nomenclature of audubon's synopsis of ; the plates reduced by the camera lucida, rearranged and renumbered, making in all. the two original works, thus put together and modified, became the first octavo edition called "birds of america," issued in parts, to be bound in volumes, - . there have been various subsequent issues, partial or complete, upon which i cannot here enlarge. for full bibliographical data see dr. coues' "birds of the colorado valley," appendix, , pp. , , , , , , , and .--e. c. [ ] referring to mr. robert havell, of no. oxford st., london. his name will be recalled in connection with _sterna havellii_, the tern which audubon shot at new orleans in , and dedicated to his engraver in "orn. biogr." v., , p. , "b. amer.," vo, vii., , p. , pl. . it is the winter plumage of the bird nuttall called _s. forsteri_ in his "manual," ii., , p. . see coues, "proceedings of the philadelphia academy of science," , p. .--e. c. [ ] see previous note on p. , where it is said that plates - appeared in , and plates - in --in attestation of which the above words to victor audubon become important.--e. c. [ ] it actually ran to numbers, as stated in a previous note. [ ] see episodes "great egg harbor" and "great pine swamp." [ ] mr. garrett johnson, where mrs. audubon was then teaching. [ ] there has been much question as to the spelling of macgillivray's name, professor newton and most others writing it macgillivray, but in the autograph letters we own the capital "g" is always used. [ ] address at the special meeting of the new york academy of sciences, april , . [ ] referring to one of the six "epochs" into which, in the same work, dr. coues divided the progress of american ornithology. his "audubon epoch" extends from to , and one of the four periods into which this epoch is divided is the "audubonian period," - . [ ] descriptions of the rapacious birds of great britain. by william macgillivray, a.m., edinburgh, , i vol. small vo. this valuable treatise is dedicated "to john james audubon, in admiration of his talents as an ornithologist, and in gratitude for many acts of friendship." mr. macgillivray also had then in preparation or contemplation his larger "history of british birds," volumes of which appeared in - , but the th and th volumes not till .--e. c. [ ] the completed volume bears date of mdcccxxxi. on the titlepage and the publisher's imprint of "adam black, , north bridge, edinburgh." the collation is pp. i-xxiv, - , + pp. of prospectus, etc. this is the text to plates i.-c. ( - ) of the elephant folios. other copies are said to bear the imprint of "philadelphia, e. l. carey and a. hart, mdcccxxxi."--e. c. audubon wrote to dr. richard harlan on march , , "i have sent a copy of the first volume to you to-day." [ ] we only possess one oil painting signed "audubon." [ ] john bachman, d.d., ll.d., ph.d., feb. , -april , . author of many works, scientific, zoölogical, and religious. for sixty years he was pastor of st. john's lutheran church, charleston, s.c. [ ] both these daughters died young,--maria, the eldest, who married john, before she was twenty-four; eliza, who married victor, still younger, during the first year of her wedded life. [ ] mr. joseph coolidge, formerly of maine, now of san francisco, cal. two others are known by name to every ornithologist through audubon's _emberiza shattuckii_ and _fringilla lincolnii_; for these birds see notes beyond.--e. c. [ ] the offices liberty st., new york, were burned at this time. [ ] john james abert, who was in brevet lieutenant-colonel of topographical engineers, u.s. army, and afterward chief of his corps. abert's squirrel, _sciurus aberti_, forms the subject of plate , fig. , of audubon and bachman's "quadrupeds." [ ] this important and standard work on american mammalogy was not, however, finished till many years afterward, nor did audubon live to see its completion. publication of the colored plates in oblong folio, without text, began at least as early as , and with few exceptions they first appeared in this form. they were subsequently reduced to large octavo size, and issued in parts with the text, then first published. the whole, text and plates, were then gathered in volumes: vol. i., ; vol. ii., ; vol. iii., to page and pl. , ; vol. iii., p. to end, . there are in all plates; in vol. i., in vol. ii., in vol. iii.; about half of them are from audubon's brush, the rest by john woodhouse. the exact character of the joint authorship does not appear; but no doubt the technical descriptions are by dr. bachman. publication was made in new york by victor audubon; and there was a reissue of some parts of the work at least, as vol. i. is found with copyright of , and date on the title.--e. c. [ ] lucy, now mrs. delancey b. williams. [ ] victor audubon wrote in reply to a question as to how many copies of the "birds" were in existence: "about copies; of these i should say were in our own country. the length of time over which the work extended brought many changes to original subscribers, and this accounts for the odd volumes which are sometimes offered for sale." in stating that the work had been "absolutely completed" in , i must not omit to add that when the octavo reissue appeared it contained a few additional birds chiefly derived from audubon's fruitful voyage up the missouri in , which also yielded much material for the work on the quadrupeds. the appearance of the "synopsis" in marks the interval between the completion of the original undertaking and the beginning of plans for its reduction to octavo.--e. c. [ ] "these little folk, of all sizes, sit and play in my room and do not touch the specimens." (letter of dr. bachman, may , , to his family in charleston.) [ ] harper's monthly magazine, october, , p. . [ ] both sons had married a second time. victor had married georgiana r. mallory of new york, and john, caroline hall of england. [ ] mrs. v. g. audubon. [ ] reminiscences of audubon, scribner's monthly, july, , p. ; turf, field, and farm, nov. , . [ ] unveiled april , , on which occasion eulogies were pronounced by mr. d. g. elliot, ex-president of the american ornithologists' union, and prof. thomas egleston of columbia college. the european journals - the european journals - on _the th april_, , i left my beloved wife lucy audubon, and my son john woodhouse with our friends the percys at bayou sara. i remained at doctor pope's at st. francisville till wednesday at four o'clock p. m., when i took the steamboat "red river," captain kemble, for new orleans, which city i reached at noon on wednesday, th. visited many vessels for my passage to england, and concluded to go in the ship "delos" of kennebunk, captain joseph hatch, bound to liverpool, and loaded entirely with cotton. during my stay in new orleans, i lived at g. l. sapinot's, and saw many of my old friends and acquaintances, but the whole time of waiting was dull and heavy. i generally walked from morning till dusk. new orleans, to a man who does not trade in dollars or other such stuff, is a miserable spot. finally, discovering that the ship would not be ready for sea for several days longer, i ascended the mississippi again in the "red river," and arrived at mrs. percy's at three o'clock in the morning, having had a dark ride through the magnolia woods. i remained two days, left at sunrise, and breakfasted with my good friend augustin bourgeat. arrived at new orleans, i called on the governor, who gave me a letter bearing the seal of the state, obviating the necessity of a passport. i received many letters of introduction from different persons which will be of use to me. also i wrote to charles bonaparte, apprising him of the box of bird skins forwarded to him. on the _ th of may_, my baggage was put on board, i following, and the steamboat "hercules" came alongside at seven p. m., and in ten hours put the "delos" to sea. i was immediately affected with sea-sickness, which, however, lasted but a short time; i remained on deck constantly, forcing myself to exercise. we calculated our day of departure to be may , , at noon, when we first made an observation. it is now the th; the weather has been generally fair with light winds. the first objects which diverted my thoughts from the dear ones left behind me, were the beautiful dolphins that glided by the vessel like burnished gold by day, and bright meteors by night. our captain and mate proved experts at alluring them with baited hooks, and dexterous at piercing them with a five-pronged instrument, generally called by seamen "grain." if hooked, the dolphin flounces desperately, glides off with all its natural swiftness, rises perpendicularly out of the water several feet, and often shakes off the hook and escapes; if, however, he is well hooked, he is played about for a while, soon exhausted, and hauled into the ship. their flesh is firm, dry, yet quite acceptable at sea. they differ much in their sizes, being, according to age, smaller or larger; i saw some four and a half feet long, but a fair average is three feet. the paunch of all we caught contained more or less small fishes of different varieties, amongst which the flying-fish is most prevalent. dolphins move in companies of from four or five to twenty or more. they chase the flying-fish, that with astonishing rapidity, after having escaped their sharp pursuer a while in the water, emerge, and go through the air with the swiftness of an arrow, sometimes in a straight course, sometimes forming part of a circle; yet frequently the whole is unavailing, for the dolphin bounds from the sea in leaps of fifteen or twenty feet, and so moves rapidly towards his prey, and the little fish falls, to be swallowed by his antagonist. you must not suppose, however, that the dolphin moves through the seas without risk or danger; he, as well as others has vigilant and powerful enemies. one is the barracouta, in shape much like a pike, growing sometimes to a large size; one of these cut off upwards of a foot of a dolphin's tail, as if done with an axe, as the dolphin made for a baited hook; and i may say we about divided the bounty. there is a degree of sympathy existing between dolphins quite remarkable; the moment one of them is hooked or grained, all those in company immediately make towards him, and remain close to him till the unfortunate is hauled on board, then they move off and will rarely bite. the skin of the fish is a tissue of small scales, softer in their substance than is generally the case in scaley fishes of such size; the skin is tough. we also caught a porpoise about seven feet in length. this was accomplished during the night, when the moon gave me a full view of all that happened. the fish, contrary to custom, was _grained_ instead of harpooned, but grained in such a way and so effectually, through the forehead, that it was then held and suffered to flounce and beat about the bow of the ship, until the man who had first speared it gave the line holding the grain to our captain, slid along the bobstay with a rope, then, after some little time and perhaps some difficulty, the fish was secured immediately about its tail, and hoisted with that part upwards. arrived at the deck it gave a deep groan, much like the last from a dying hog, flapped heavily once or twice, and died. i had never before examined one of these closely, and the duck-bill-like snout, and the curious disposition of the tail, with the body, were new and interesting matters of observation to me. the large, sleek, black body, the quantity of warm, black blood issuing from the wound, the blowing apertures placed over the forehead,--all attracted my attention. i requested it might be untouched till the next morning, and my wish was granted. on opening it the intestines were still warm (say eight hours after death), and resembled very much those of a hog. the paunch contained several cuttle-fish partly decayed. the flesh was removed from the skeleton and left the central bone supported on its sides by two horizontal, and one perpendicular bone, giving it the appearance of a four-edged cutting instrument; the lower jaw, or as i would prefer writing it, mandible, exceeds the upper about three-fourths of an inch. both were furnished with single rows of divided conical teeth, about one-half an inch in length, so parted as to admit those of the upper jaw between each of those of the lower. the fish might weigh about two hundred pounds. the eyes were small in proportion to the size of the animal, and having a breathing aperture above, of course it had no gills. porpoises move in large companies, and generally during spring and early summer go in pairs. i have seen a parcel of them leap perpendicularly about twenty feet, and fall with a heavy dash in the sea. our captain told us that there were instances when small boats had been sunk by one of these heavy fish falling into them. whilst i am engaged with the finny tribe (of which, however, i know little or nothing), i may as well tell you that one morning when moving gently, two miles per hour, the captain called me to show me some pretty little fishes just caught from the cabin window. these measured about three inches, were broad, and moved very quickly through the water. we had pin-hooks, and with these, in about two hours, three hundred and seventy were caught; they were sweet and good as food. they are known ordinarily as rudder-fish, and always keep on the lee side of the rudder, as it affords them a strong eddy to support them, and enable them to follow the vessel in that situation; when calm they disperse about the bow and sides, and then will not bite. the least breeze brings them all astern again in a compact body, when they seize the baited hook the moment it reaches the water. we have also caught two sharks, one a female about seven feet long, that had ten young, alive, and able to swim well; one of them was thrown overboard and made off as if well accustomed to take care of himself. another was cut in two, and the head half swam off out of our sight. the remainder, as well as the parent, were cut in pieces for bait for dolphins, which are extremely partial to that meat. the weather being calm and pleasant, i felt desirous to have a view of the ship from a distance and captain hatch politely took me in the yawl and had it rowed all round the "delos." this was a sight i had not enjoyed for twenty years, and i was much pleased with it; afterwards having occasion to go out to try the bearings of the current, i again accompanied him, and bathed in the sea, not however without some fears as to sharks. to try the bearings of the current we took an iron pot fastened to a line of one hundred and twenty fathoms, and made a log-board out of a barrel's head leaded on one side to make it sink perpendicularly on its edge, and tried the velocity of the current with it fixed to a line _by the help of a second glass_,[ ] whilst our iron pot acted as an anchor. let me change my theme, and speak of birds awhile. mother carey's chickens (_procellaria_) came about us, and i longed to have _at least one_ in my possession. i had watched their evolutions, their gentle patting of the sea when on the wing, with the legs hanging and the web extended, seen them take large and long ranges in search of food, and return for bits of fat thrown overboard for them, i had often looked at different figures given by scientific men; but all this could not diminish for a moment the long-wished for pleasure of possessing one in the flesh. i fired, and dropped the first one that came alongside, and the captain most courteously sent for it with the yawl. i made two drawings of it; it proved to be a female with eggs, numerous, but not larger than grains of fine powder, inducing me to think that these birds must either breed earlier, or much later, than any in our southern latitude. i should be inclined to think that the specimen i inspected had not laid this season, though i am well satisfied that it was an old bird. during many succeeding weeks i discovered that numbers flew mated side by side, and occasionally, particularly on calm, pleasant days caressed each other as ducks are known to do. _may , ._ five days ago we saw a small vessel with all sails set coming toward us; we were becalmed and the unknown had a light breeze. it approached gradually; suspicions were entertained that it might be a pirate, as we had heard that same day reports, which came undoubtedly from cannon, and from the very direction from which this vessel was coming. we were well manned, tolerably armed, and were all bent on resistance, knowing well that these gentry gave no quarter, to purses at least, and more or less uneasiness was perceptible on every face. night arrived, a squally breeze struck us, and off we moved, and lost sight of the pursuing vessel in a short time. the next day a brig that had been in our wake came near us, was hailed, and found to be the "gleaner," of portland, commanded by an acquaintance of our commander, and bound also to liverpool. this vessel had left new orleans five days before us. we kept close together, and the next day captain hatch and myself boarded her, and were kindly received; after a short stay her captain, named jefferson, came with us and remained the day. i opened my drawings and showed a few of them. mr. swift was anxious to see some, and i wanted to examine in what state they kept, and the weather being dry and clear i feared nothing. it was agreed the vessels should keep company until through the gulf stream, for security against pirates. so fine has the weather been so far, that all belonging to the cabin have constantly slept on deck; an awning has been extended to protect from the sun by day and the dampness by night. when full a hundred leagues at sea, a female rice bunting came on board, and remained with us one night, and part of a day. a warbler also came, but remained only a few minutes, and then made for the land we had left. it moved while on board with great activity and sprightliness; the bunting, on the contrary, was exhausted, panted, and i have no doubt died of inanition. many sooty terns were in sight during several days. i saw one frigate pelican high in air, and could only judge it to be such through the help of a telescope. flocks of unknown birds were also about the ship during a whole day. they swam well, and preferred the water to the air. they resembled large phalaropes, but i could not be certain. a small alligator, that i had purchased for a dollar in new orleans, died at the end of nine days, through my want of knowledge, or thought, that salt matter was poisonous to him. in two days he swelled to nearly double his natural size, breathed hard, and, as i have said, died. in latitude °, ´, a green heron came on board, and remained until, becoming frightened, it flew towards the brig "gleaner;" it did not appear in the least fatigued. the captain of the brig told me that on a former voyage from europe to new orleans, when about fifty leagues from the balize, a fully grown whooping crane came on board his vessel during the night, passing over the length of his deck, close over his head, over the helmsman, and fell in the yawl; the next morning the bird was found there completely exhausted, when every one on board supposed it had passed on. a cage was made for it, but it refused food, lingered a few days, and then died. it was plucked and found free from any wound, and in good condition; a very singular case in birds of the kind, that are inured to extensive journeys, and, of course liable to spend much time without the assistance of food. _june ._ we are a few miles south of the line, for the second time in my life. since i wrote last we have parted from our companion the "gleaner," and are yet in the gulf of mexico. i have been at sea three sundays, and yet we have not made the shores of cuba. since my last date i have seen a large sword-fish, but _only_ saw it, two gannets, caught a live warbler, and killed a great-footed hawk. this bird, after having alighted several times on our yards, made a dash at a warbler which was feeding on the flies about the vessel, seized it, and ate it in our sight, _on the wing_, much like a mississippi kite devouring the red-throated lizards. the warbler we caught was a nondescript, which i named "the cape florida songster." we also saw two frigate pelicans at a great height, and a large species of petrel, entirely unknown to me. i have read byron's "corsair" with much enjoyment. _june ._ a brig bound to boston, called the "andromache," came alongside, and my heart rejoiced at the idea that letters could be carried by her to america. i set to, and wrote to my wife and to nicholas berthoud. a sudden squall separated us till quite late, but we boarded her, i going with the captain; the sea ran high, and the tossing of our light yawl was extremely disagreeable to my feelings. the brig was loaded with cotton, extremely filthy, and i was glad to discover that with all _our_ disagreeables we were comparatively comfortable on the "delos." we have been in sight of cuba four days; the heat excessive. i saw three beautiful white-headed pigeons, or doves, flying about our ship, but after several rounds they shaped their course towards the floridas and disappeared. the dolphins we catch here are said to be poisonous; to ascertain whether they are or not, a piece of fish is boiled with a silver dollar till quite cooked, when if the coin is not tarnished or green, the fish is safe eating. i find bathing in the sea water extremely refreshing, and enjoy this luxury every night and morning. several vessels are in sight. _june ._ we have been becalmed many days, and i should be dull indeed were it not for the fishes and birds, and my pen and pencil. i have been much interested in the dusky petrels; the mate killed four at one shot, so plentiful were they about our vessel, and i have made several drawings from these, which were brought on board for that purpose. they skim over the sea in search of what is here called gulf weed, of which there are large patches, perhaps half an acre in extent. they flap the wings six or seven times, then soar for three or four seconds, the tail spread, the wings extended. four or five of these birds, indeed sometimes as many as fifteen or twenty, will alight on this weed, dive, flutter, and swim with all the gayety of ducks on a pond, which they have reached after a weary journey. i heard no note from any of them. no sooner have the petrels eaten or dispersed the fish than they rise and extend their wings for flight, in search of more. at times, probably to rest themselves, they alighted, swam lightly, dipping their bills frequently in the water as mergansers and fishy ducks do when trying, by tasting, if the water contains much fish. on inspection of the body, i found the wings powerfully muscular and strong for the size of the bird, a natural requisite for individuals that have such an extent of water to traverse, and frequently heavy squalls to encounter and fight against. the stomach, or pouch, resembled a leather purse of four inches in length and was much distended by the contents, which were a compound of fishes of different kinds, some almost entire, others more or less digested. the gullet was capable of great extension. fishes two and a half inches by one inch were found nearly fresh. the flesh of these petrels smelt strong, and was tough and not fit to eat. i tasted some, and found it to resemble the flesh of the porpoise. there was no difference in the sexes, either in size or color; they are sooty black above, and snowy white below. the exact measurements are in my memorandum-book. _june ._ this morning we came up with the ship "thalia," of philadelphia, captain john r. butler, from havana to minorca up the mediterranean, with many passengers, spaniards, on board. the captain very politely offered us some fruit, which was gladly accepted, and in return we sent them a large dolphin, they having caught none. i sent a petrel, stuffed some days previously, as the captain asked for it for the philadelphia society of sciences. _june ._ whilst sailing under a gentle breeze last night, the bird commonly called by seamen "noddy" alighted on the boom of the vessel, and was very soon caught by the mate. it then uttered a rough cry, not unlike that of a young crow when taken from the nest. it bit severely and with quickly renewed movement of the bill, which, when it missed the object in view, snapped like that of our larger flycatchers. i found it one of the same species that hovered over the seaweeds in company with the large petrel. having kept it alive during the night, when i took it in hand to draw it it was dull looking and silent. i know nothing of this bird more than what our sailors say, that it is a noddy, and that they often alight on vessels in this latitude, particularly in the neighborhood of the florida keys. the bird was in beautiful plumage, but poor. the gullet was capable of great extension, the paunch was empty, the heart large for the bird, and the liver uncommonly so. a short time before the capture of the above bird, a vessel of war, a ship that we all supposed to be a south american republican, or columbian, came between us and the "thalia," then distant from us about one and a half miles astern, fired a gun, and detained her for some time, the reason probably being that the passengers were spaniards, and the cargo spanish property; however, this morning both vessels were in view making different routes. the man-of-war deigned not to come to us, and none of us were much vexed at this mark of inattention. this day has been calm; my drawing finished, i caught four dolphins; how much i have gazed at these beautiful creatures, watching their last moments of life, as they changed their hue in twenty varieties of richest arrangement of tints, from burnished gold to silver bright, mixed with touches of ultramarine, rose, green, bronze, royal purple, quivering to death on our hard, broiling deck. as i stood and watched them, i longed to restore them to their native element in all their original strength and vitality, and yet i felt but a few moments before a peculiar sense of pleasure in catching them with a hook to which they were allured by false pretences. we have at last entered the atlantic ocean this morning and with a propitious breeze; the land birds have left us, and i--i leave my beloved america, my wife, my children, my friends. the purpose of this voyage is to visit not only england, but the continent of europe, with the intention of publishing my work on the "birds of america." if not sadly disappointed my return to these shores, these happy shores, will be the brightest day i have ever enjoyed. oh! wife, children, friends, america, farewell! farewell! _july ._ _at sea._ my leaving america had for some time the feelings of a dream; i could scarce make up my mind fixedly on the subject. i thought continually i still saw my beloved friends, and my dear wife and children. i still felt every morning when i awoke that the land of america was beneath me, and that i would in a short time throw myself on the ground in her shady woods, and watch for, and listen to the many lovely warblers. but now that i have positively been at sea since _fifty-one_ days, tossing to and fro, without the sight or the touch of those dear to me, i feel fully convinced, and look forward with an anxiety such as i never felt before, when i calculate that not less than four months, the third of a year, must elapse before my wife and children can receive any tidings of my arrival on the distant shores to which i am bound. when i think that many more months must run from the life's sand-glass allotted to my existence before i can think of returning, and that my re-union with my friends and country is yet an unfolded and unknown event, i am filled with sudden apprehensions which i cannot describe nor dispel. our fourth of july was passed near the grand banks, and how differently from any that i can recollect. the weather was thick, foggy, and as dull as myself; not a sound of rejoicing reached my ears, not once did i hear "hail columbia! happy land." my companion passengers lay about the deck and on the cotton-bales, basking like crocodiles, while the sun occasionally peeped out of the smoky haze that surrounded us; yet the breeze was strong, the waves moved majestically, and thousands of large petrels displayed their elegant, aerial movements. how much i envied their power of flight to enable me to be here, there, and all over the globe comparatively speaking, in a few moments, throwing themselves edgeways against the breeze, as if a well sharpened arrow shot with the strength and grace of one sprung from the bow of an apollo. i had remarked a regular increase in the number of these petrels ever since the capes of florida were passed; but here they were so numerous, and for part of a day flew in such succession towards the west and southwest, that i concluded they were migrating to some well known shore to deposit their eggs, or perhaps leading their young. these very seldom alighted; they were full the size of a common gull, and as they flew they showed in quick alternations the whole upper and under part of their bodies, sometimes skimming low, sometimes taking immense curves, then dashing along the deep trough of the sea, going round our vessel (always out of gun-reach) as if she had been at anchor. their lower parts are white, the head all white, and the upper part of the body and wings above sooty brown. i would imagine that one of these petrels flies over as much distance in one hour, as one of the little black petrels in our wake does in twelve. since we have left the neighborhood of the banks, these birds have gradually disappeared, and now in latitude °, ´ i see none. our captain and sailors speak of them as companions in storms, as much as their little relations mother carey's chickens. as suddenly as if we had just turned the summit of a mountain dividing a country south of the equator from iceland, the weather altered in the present latitude and longitude. my light summer clothing was not sufficient, and the dews that fell at night rendered the deck, where i always slept, too damp to be comfortable. this, however, of two evils i preferred, for i could not endure the more disagreeable odors of the cabin, where now the captain, officers, and mr. swift, eat their meals daily. the length of the days has increased astonishingly; at nine o'clock i can easily read large print. dawn comes shortly after a. m., and a long day is before us. _at sea--july, ._ we had several days a stiff breeze that wafted us over the deep fully nine miles an hour. this was congenial to my wishes, but not to my feelings. the motion of the vessel caused violent headaches, far more distressing than any seasickness i had ever experienced. now, for the third or fourth time, i read thomson's "seasons," and i believe enjoyed them better than ever. among our live stock on board, we had a large hen. this bird was very tame and quite familiar with the ins and outs of the vessel, and was allowed all the privileges of the deck. she had been hatched on board, and our cook, who claimed her as his property, was much attached to her, as was also the mate. one morning she imprudently flew overboard, while we were running three miles an hour. the yawl was immediately lowered, four men rowed her swiftly towards the floating bird that anxiously looked at her place of abode gliding from her; she was picked up, and her return on board seemed to please every one, and i was gratified to see such kind treatment to a bird; it assured me, had i needed that assurance, that the love of animals develops the better side of all natures. our hen, however, ended her life most distressingly not long after this narrow escape; she again flew over the side, and the ship moving at nine knots, the sea very high and rough, the weather rainy and squally, the captain thought it imprudent to risk the men for the fowl; so, notwithstanding the pleadings of the cook, we lost sight of the adventurous bird in a few moments. we have our long boat as usual lashed to the deck; but instead of being filled with lumber as is usually the case, it now contained three passengers, all bound to europe to visit friends, with the intention of returning to america in the autumn. one has a number of books which he politely offered me; he plays most sweetly on the flute, and is a man superior to his apparent situation. we have a tailor also; this personage is called a deck hand, but the fact is, that two thirds of his time is spent sleeping on the windlass. this man, however, like all others in the world, is useful in his way. he works whenever called on, and will most cheerfully put a button or a patch on any one's clothing; his name is crow, and during the entire voyage, thus far, he has lived solely on biscuit and raw bacon. we now see no fish except now and then a shoal of porpoises. i frequently long for the beautiful dolphins in the gulf of mexico; whales have been seen by the sailors, but not by me. during this tedious voyage i frequently sit and watch our captain at his work; i do not remember ever to have seen a man more industrious or more apt at doing nearly everything he needs himself. he is a skilful carpenter and turner, cooper, tin and black smith, and an excellent tailor; i saw him making a pair of pantaloons of fine cloth with all the neatness that a city brother of the cross-legged faculty could have used. he made a handsome patent swift for his wife, and a beautiful plane for his own use, manufactured out of a piece of beechwood that probably grew on the banks of the ohio, as i perceived it had been part of a flat-boat, and brought on board to be used for fuel. he can plait straw in all sorts of ways, and make excellent bearded fishhooks out of common needles. he is an excellent sailor, and the more stormy it becomes, the gayer he is, even when drenched to the skin. i was desirous of understanding the means of ascertaining the latitude on land, and also to find the true rising of the sun whilst travelling in the uninhabited parts of america; this he showed me with pleasure, and i calculated our latitude and longitude from this time, though not usually fond of mathematics. to keep busy i go often about the deck pencil in hand, sketching the different attitudes of the sailors, and many a laugh is caused by these rough drawings. both the mates have shown a kindness towards me that i cannot forget. the first mate is s. l. bragdon from wells, the second wm. hobart from kennebunk. to-day we came in with a new set and species of petrels, resembling those in the gulf of mexico, but considerably larger; between fifty and sixty were at one time close to the vessel, catching small fish that we guessed to be herrings; the birds swam swiftly over the water, their wings raised, and now and then diving and dipping after the small fry; they flew heavily, and with apparent reluctance, and alighted as soon as we passed them. i was satisfied that several in our wake had followed us from the gulf of mexico; the sudden change in the weather must have been seriously felt by them. _july ._ i had a beautiful view of a whale about five hundred yards from the vessel when we first perceived it; the water thrown from his spiracles had the appearance of a small, thick cloud, twelve or fourteen feet wide. never have i felt the weather so cold in july. we are well wrapped up, and yet feel chilly in the drizzling rain. _july ._ yesterday-night ended the ninth sunday passed at sea; the weather continues cold, but the wind is propitious. we are approaching land, and indeed i thought i smelt the "land smell." we have had many whales near us during the day, and an immense number of porpoises; our captain, who prefers their flesh to the best of veal, beef, or mutton, said he would give five dollars for one; but our harpoon is broken, and although several handles were fastened for a while to the grain, the weapon proved too light, and the fish invariably made their escape after a few bounces, probably to go and die in misery. european hawks were seen, and two curlews; these gave me hope that we might see the long desired land shortly. _july , ._ the sun is shining clear over ireland; that land was seen at three o'clock this morning by the man at the helm, and the mate, with a stentorian voice, announced the news. as we approached the coast a small boat neared us, and came close under our lee; the boat looked somewhat like those employed in bringing in heavy loads to new orleans, but her sails were more tattered, her men more fair in complexion. they hailed us and offered for sale fresh fish, new potatoes, fresh eggs. all were acceptable, i assure thee. they threw a light line to us most dexterously. fish, potatoes, and eggs were passed to us, in exchange for whiskey, salt pork, and tobacco, which were, i trust, as acceptable to them as their wares were to us. i thought the exchange a fair one, but no!--they called for rum, brandy, whiskey, more of everything. their expressions struck me with wonder; it was "here's to your honor,"--"long life to your honor,"--"god bless your honor,"--_honors_ followed with such rapidity that i turned away in disgust. the breeze freshened and we proceeded fast on our way. perhaps to-morrow may see me safe on land again--perhaps to-morrow may see us all stranded, perishing where the beautiful "albion" went ashore. _st. george's channel, thursday, july ._ i am approaching very fast the shores of england, indeed wales is abreast of our ship, and we can plainly distinguish the hedges that divide the fields of grain; but what nakedness the country exhibits, scarce a patch of timber to be seen; our fine forests of pine, of oak, of heavy walnut-trees, of magnificent magnolias, of hickories or ash or maple, are represented here by a diminutive growth called "furze." but i must not criticise so soon! i have not seen the country, i have not visited any of the historic castles, or the renowned parks, for never have i been in england nor scotland, that land made famous by the entrancing works of walter scott. we passed yesterday morning the tuskar, a handsome light on a bare rock. this morning we saw holyhead, and we are now not more than twenty-five miles from liverpool; but i feel no pleasure, and were it not for the sake of my lucy and my children, i would readily embark to-morrow to return to america's shores and all they hold for me.... the pilot boat that came to us this morning contained several men all dressed in blue, with overcoats of oiled linen,--all good, hearty, healthy-looking men.... i have been on deck, and from the bow the land of england is plainly distinguishable; the sight around us is a beautiful one, i have counted fifty-six vessels with spreading sails, and on our right are mountains fading into the horizon; my dull thoughts have all abandoned me, i am elated, my heart is filled with hope. to-morrow we shall land at the city of liverpool, but when i think of custom house officials, acceptancy of bills, hunting up lodgings,--again my heart fails me; i must on deck. _mersey river opposite liverpool_, . p. m. the night is cloudy, and we are at anchor! the lights of the city show brightly, for we are not more than two hundred yards distant from them. _liverpool, july ._ this morning when i landed it was raining, yet the appearance of the city was agreeable; but no sooner had i entered it than the smoke became so oppressive to my lungs that i could hardly breathe; it affected my eyes also. all was new to me. after a breakfast at an inn with mr. swift for / , we went to the exchange buildings, to the counting-house of gordon and forstall, as i was anxious to deliver my letters to mr. gordon from mr. briggs. i also presented during the morning my bill of exchange. the rest of the day was spent in going to the museum, gazing about, and clearing my brains as much as possible; but how lonely i feel,--not a soul to speak to freely when mr. swift leaves me for ireland. we took lodgings at the commercial inn not far from the exchange buildings; we are well fed, and well attended to, although, to my surprise, altogether by women, neatly dressed and modest. i found the persons of whom i enquired for different directions, remarkably kind and polite; i had been told this would not be the case, but i have met with only real politeness from all. _liverpool, july ._ the lark that sings so sweetly, and that now awakened me from happy dreams, is nearly opposite my table, prisoner in a cage hanging by a window where from time to time a young person comes to look on the world below; i think of the world of the west and--but the lark, delightful creature, sings sweetly, yet in a cage! the custom house suddenly entered my head, and after considerable delay there, my drawings went through a regular, strict, and complete examination. the officers were all of opinion that they were free of duty, but the law was looked at and i was obliged to pay two pence on each drawing, as they were water-colored. my books being american, i paid four pence _per pound_, and when all was settled, i took my baggage and drawings, and went to my lodgings. the noise of pattens on the sidewalk startles me very frequently; if the sound is behind me i often turn my head expecting to see a horse, but instead i observe a neat, plump-looking maid, tripping as briskly as a killdeer. i received a polite note from mr. rathbone[ ] this morning, inviting me to dine next wednesday with him and mr. roscoe.[ ] i shall not forget the appointment. _sunday, july ._ being sunday i must expect a long and lonely day; i woke at dawn and lay for a few moments only, listening to the sweet-voiced lark; the day was beautiful; thermometer in the sun °, in the shade °; i might say °, but i love odd numbers,--it is a foolish superstition with me. i spent my forenoon with mr. swift and a friend of his, mr. r. lyons, who was afterwards kind enough to introduce us to the commercial reading room at the exchange buildings. in the afternoon we went across the mersey. the country is somewhat dull; we returned to supper, sat chatting in the coffee room, and the day ended. _july , monday._ as early as i thought proper i turned my steps to no. duke street, where the polite english gentleman, mr. richard rathbone,[ ] resides. my locks blew freely from under my hat in the breeze, and nearly every lady i met looked at them with curiosity. mr. rathbone was not in, but was at his counting-house, where i soon found myself. a full dozen of clerks were at their separate desks, work was going on apace, letters were being thrown into an immense bag belonging to a packet that sailed this day for the shores where i hope my lucy is happy--dearest friend! my name was taken to the special room of mr. rathbone, and in a moment i was met by one who acted towards me as a brother. he did not give _his card_ to poor audubon, he gave his hand, and a most cordial invitation to be at his house at two o'clock, which hour found me there. i was ushered into a handsome dining-room, and mr. rathbone almost immediately entered the same, with a most hearty greeting. i dined with this hospitable man, his charming wife and children. mrs. rathbone is not only an amiable woman, but a most intelligent and highly educated one. mr. rathbone took me to the exchange buildings in order to see the american consul, mr. maury, and others. introduction followed introduction; then i was taken through the entire building, the mayor's public dining-hall, etc. i gazed on pictures of royalty by sir thomas lawrence and others, mounted to the dome and looked over liverpool and the harbor that nature formed for her. it was past five when i went to keep my appointment with mr. swift. _july ._ the day has passed quickly. in the morning i made a crayon portrait of mr. swift--or rather began it--for his father, then took a walk, and on my return found a note from mr. richard rathbone awaiting me. he desired me to come at once with one of my portfolios to duke street. i immediately took a hackney coach and found mr. and mrs. rathbone with mr. james pyke awaiting me, to take me to the home of mr. rathbone, sr., who lives some miles out of liverpool.[ ] their youngest boy, basil, a sweet child, took a fancy to me and i to him, and we made friends during our drive. the country opened gradually to our view, and presently passing up an avenue of trees we entered the abode of the venerable pair, and i was heartily made welcome. i felt painfully awkward, as i always do in new company, but so much kindness and simplicity soon made me more at ease. i saw as i entered the house a full and beautiful collection of the birds of england, well prepared and arranged. what sensations i had whilst i helped to untie the fastenings of my portfolio! i knew by all around me that these good friends were possessed of both taste and judgment, and i did not know that i should please. i was panting like the winged pheasant, but ah! these kind people praised _my birds_, and i felt the praise to be honest; once more i breathed freely. my portfolio thoroughly examined, we returned to liverpool, and later the rev. wm. goddard, rector of liverpool, and several ladies called on me, and saw some drawings; _all_ praised them. oh! what can i hope, my lucy, for thee and for us all? _july ._ it is very late, and i am tired, but i will not omit writing on that account. the morning was beautiful, but for some reason i was greatly depressed, and it appeared to me as if i could not go on with the work before me. however, i recollected that the venerable mr. maury must not be forgotten. i saw him; mr. swift left for dublin with his crayon portrait; i called at the post-office for news from america, but in vain. i wrote for some time, and then received a call from mr. rathbone with his brother william; the latter invited me to dine on friday at his house, which i promised to do, and this evening i dined with mr. rd. rathbone. i went at half-past six, my heart rather failing me, entered the corridor, my hat was taken, and going upstairs i entered mr. rathbone's drawing-room. i have frequently thought it strange that my _observatory nerves_ never give way, no matter how much i am overcome by _mauvaise honte_, nor did they now. many pictures embellished the walls, and helped, with mr. rathbone's lively mien, to remove the misery of the moment. mr. edward roscoe came in immediately,--tall, with a good eye under a well marked brow. dinner announced, we descended to the room i had entered on my first acquaintance with this charming home, and i was conducted to the place of honor. mr. roscoe sat next, mr. barclay of london, and mr. melly opposite with consul maury; the dinner was enlivened with mirth and _bon mots_, and i found in such good company infinite pleasure. after we left the table mrs. rathbone joined us in the parlor, and i had now again to show my drawings. mr. roscoe, who had been talking to me about them at dinner, would not give me any hopes, and i felt unusually gloomy as one by one i slipped them from their case; but after looking at a few only, the great man said heartily: "mr. audubon, i am filled with surprise and admiration." on bidding me adieu he invited me to dine with him to-morrow, and to visit the botanical gardens. later mrs. rathbone showed me some of her drawings, where talent has put an undeniable stamp on each touch. _july ._ i reached mr. roscoe's place, about one and a half miles distant from liverpool, about three o'clock, and was at once shown into a little drawing-room where all was nature. mr. roscoe was drawing a very handsome plant most beautifully. the room was ornamented with many flowers, receiving from his hands the care and treatment they required; they were principally exotics from many distant and different climes. his three daughters were introduced to me, and we then started for the gardens. mr. roscoe and i rode there in what he called his little car, drawn by a pony so small that i was amazed to see it pull us both with apparent ease. mr. roscoe is a _come-at-able_ person, who makes me feel at home immediately, and we have much in common. i was shown the whole of the gardens, which with the hot-house were in fine order. the ground is level, well laid out, and beautifully kept; but the season was, so mr. roscoe said, a little advanced for me to see the place to the best advantage. on our return to the charming _laboratoire_ of mr. roscoe the large portfolio is again in sight. i will not weary you with the details of this. one of the daughters draws well, and i saw her look closely at me very often, and she finally made known her wish to take a sketch of my head, to which i gave reluctant consent for some future time. mr. roscoe is very anxious i should do well, and says he will try to introduce me to lord stanley, and assured me nothing should be left undone to meet my wishes; he told me that the honorable gentleman "is rather shy." it was nine o'clock when i said good-night, leaving my drawings with him at his request. on my return to dale street i found the following note: "mr. martin, of the royal institution of liverpool, will do himself the pleasure to wait upon mr. ambro to-morrow at eleven o'clock." why do people make such errors with my simple name? _july ._ a _full grown man_ with a scarlet vest and breeches, black stockings and shoes for the coloring of his front, and a long blue coat covering his shoulders and back reminds me somewhat of our summer red bird (_tanagra rubra_). both man and bird attract the eye, but the scientific appellation of the _man_ is unknown to me. at eleven mr. martin (who i expect is secretary to the royal institution) called, and arranged with me a notice to the members of the institution, announcing that i would exhibit my drawings for two hours on the mornings of monday, tuesday, and wednesday following, at the institution. later, feeling lonely and sad, i called on mrs. r. rathbone, whom i found putting away in a little box, a dissected map, with which, _edgeworth-like_, she had been transmitting knowledge with pleasure. she is so truly delightful a companion that had it been possible i should have made my call long instead of short, but i walked home by a roundabout way, and found a note from mr. wm. rathbone reminding me of my promise to dine with him, and adding that he wished me to meet a brother-in-law of his from london who may be of use to me, so will i bring a few drawings? at the hour named i found myself in abercrombie street and in the parlor with two little daughters of my host, the elder about thirteen, extremely handsome. mrs. rathbone soon entered and greeted me as if she had known me all my life; her husband followed, and the guests, all gentlemen, collected. mr. hodgson, to whom i had a letter from mr. nolté[ ] was particularly kind to me, but every one seemed desirous i should succeed in england. a swiss gentleman urged me not to waste time here, but proceed at once to paris, but he was not allowed to continue his argument, and at ten i left with mr. pyke for my lodgings. _july ._ to-day i visited mr. hunt,[ ] the best landscape painter of this city. i examined much of his work and found some beautiful representations of the scenery of wales. i went to the royal institution to judge of the light, for naturally i wish my work to have every possible advantage. i have not found the population of liverpool as dense as i expected, and except during the evenings (that do not at this season commence before eight o'clock) i have not been at all annoyed by the elbowings of the crowd, as i remember to have been in my youth, in the large cities of france. some shops here are beautifully supplied, and have many customers. the new market is in my opinion an object worth the attention of all travelers. it is the finest i have ever seen--it is a large, high and long building, divided into five spacious avenues, each containing its specific commodities. i saw here viands of all descriptions, fish, vegetables, game, fruits,--both indigenous and imported from all quarters of the globe,--bird sellers, with even little collections of stuffed specimens, cheeses of enormous size, butter in great abundance, immense crates of hen's-eggs packed in layers of oats imported from ireland, twenty-five for one shilling. this market is so well lighted with gas that this evening at ten o'clock i could plainly see the colors of the irids of living pigeons in cages. the whole city is lighted with gas; each shop has many of these illuminating fires, and fine cambric can be looked at by good judges. mr. a. hodgson called on me, and i am to dine with him on monday; he has written to lord stanley about me. he very kindly asked if my time passed heavily, gave me a note of admittance for the athenæum, and told me he would do all in his power for me. i dined at the inn to-day for the second time only since my arrival. _july ._ it is sunday again, but not a dull one; i have become better acquainted, and do not feel such an utter stranger. i went to the church of the asylum for the blind. a few steps of cut stone lead to an iron gate, and under a colonnade; at the inner gate you pay whatever you please _over_ sixpence. near the entrance is a large picture of christ healing the blind. the general structure is a well proportioned oblong; ten light columns support the flat ceiling. a fine organ is placed over the entrance in a kind of upper lobby, which contains also the musicians, who are blind. all is silent, and the mind is filled with heavenly thoughts, when suddenly the sublime music glides into one's whole being, and the service has begun. nowhere have i ever seen such devotion in a church. in the afternoon the rev. wm. goddard took me to some institutions for children on the lancastrian system; all appeared well dressed, clean, and contented. i dined with mr. and mrs. gordon;[ ] anne advised me to have my hair cut, and to buy a fashionable coat. _july ._ this day has been one of trial to me. at nine of the morning i was quite busy, arranging and disposing in sets my drawings, that they might be inspected by the public. the doors were thrown open at noon, and the ladies flocked in. i knew but one, mrs. richard rathbone, but i had many glances to meet and questions to answer. the time passed, however, and at two the doors were closed. at half-past four i drove with mr. adam hodgson to his cottage, where i was introduced to mrs. hodgson, a tall young woman with the freshness of spring, who greeted me most kindly; there were three other guests, and we passed a quiet evening after the usual excellent dinner. soon after ten we retired to our rooms. _august ._ i arose to listen to the voice of an english blackbird just as the day broke. it was a little after three, i dressed; and as silently as in my power moved downstairs carrying my boots in my hand, gently opened the door, and was off to the fields and meadows. i walked a good deal, went to the seashore, saw a hare, and returned to breakfast, after which and many invitations to make my kind hosts frequent visits, i was driven back to town, and went immediately to the institution, where i met dr. traill[ ] and many other persons of distinction. several gentlemen attached to the institution, wished me to be remunerated for exhibiting my pictures, but though i am poor enough, god knows, i do not think i should do that, as the room has been given to me gratis. four hundred and thirteen persons were admitted to see my drawings. _august ._ i put up this day two hundred and twenty-five of my drawings; the _coup d'oeil_ was not bad, and the room was crowded. old mr. roscoe did me the honor to present me to mr. jean sismondi,[ ] of geneva. mr. and mrs. rathbone had gone to their country home, "green bank," but i sent a note telling them how many pictures i had added to the first day's exhibition. i have decided to collect what letters i can for london, and go there as soon as possible. i was introduced to mr. booth of manchester, who promised me whatever aid he could in that city. after a call at mr. roscoe's, i went, with a gentleman from charleston, s.c., to the theatre, as i was anxious to see the renowned miss foote. miss foote has been pretty, nay, handsome, nay, beautiful, but--she _has been_. the play was good, the playhouse bad, and the audience numerous and fashionable. _august ._ i had no time to write yesterday; my morning was spent at the institution, the room was again crowded, i was wearied with bowing to the many to whom i was introduced. some one was found copying one of the pictures, but the doorkeeper, an alert scotchman, saw his attempt, turned him out, and tore his sketch. mr. a. hodgson invited me to dine with lord stanley to-morrow in company with mr. wm. roscoe, sr. mr. sismondi gave me a letter to baron von humboldt, and showed me a valuable collection of insects from thibet, and after this i took tea with mr. roscoe. this morning i breakfasted with mr. hodgson, and met mrs. wm. rathbone somewhat later at the institution; never was a woman better able to please, and more disposed to do so; a woman possessed of beauty, good sense, great intelligence, and rare manners, with a candor and sweetness not to be surpassed. mr. william roscoe sent his carriage for me, and i again went to his house, where quite a large company had assembled, among others two botanists who knew every plant and flower, and were most obliging in giving me much delightful information. having to walk to "green bank," the home of mr. william rathbone, sr., i left mr. roscoe's at sunset (which by the way was beautiful). the evening was calm and lovely, and i soon reached the avenue of trees leading to the house i sought. almost immediately i found myself on the lawn with a group of archers, and was interested in the sport; some of the ladies shot very well. mr. rathbone, sr., asked me much about indians, and american trees, the latter quite unknown here, and as yet i have seen none larger than the saplings of louisiana. when the other guests had left, i was shown the new work on the birds of england; i did not like it as well as i had hoped; i much prefer thomas bewick. bewick is the wilson of england. _august ._ miss hannah rathbone[ ] drove me into liverpool with great speed. two little welsh ponies, well matched, drew us beautifully in a carriage which is the young lady's special property. after she left me my head was full of lord stanley. i am a very poor fool, to be sure, to be troubled at the idea of meeting an english _gentleman_, when those i have met have been in kindness, manners, talents, all i could desire, far more than i expected. the misses roscoe were at the institution, where they have been every day since my pictures were exhibited. mrs. wm. rathbone, with her daughter--her younger self--at her side, was also there, and gave me a packet of letters from her husband. on opening this packet later i found the letters were contained in a handsome case, suitable for my pocket, and a card from mr. rathbone asking me to use it as a token of his affectionate regard. in the afternoon i drove with mr. hodgson to his cottage, and while chatting with his amiable wife the door opened to admit lord stanley.[ ] i have not the least doubt that if my head had been looked at, it would have been thought to be the body, globularly closed, of one of our largest porcupines; all my hair--and i have enough--stood straight on end, i am sure. he is tall, well formed, made for activity, simply but well dressed; he came to me at once, bowing to mrs. hodgson as he did so, and taking my hand in his, said: "sir, i am glad to see you." not the words only, but his manner put me at once at my ease. my drawings were soon brought out. lord stanley is a great naturalist, and in an instant he was exclaiming over my work, "fine!" "beautiful!" and when i saw him on his knees, having spread my drawings on the floor, the better to compare them, i forgot he was lord stanley, i knew only he too loved nature. at dinner i looked at him closely; his manner reminded me of thomas sully, his forehead would have suited dr. harlan, his brow would have assured that same old friend of his great mental powers. he cordially invited me to call on him in grosvenor street in _town_ (thus he called london), shook hands with me again, and mounting a splendid hunter rode off. i called to thank mr. rathbone for his letters and gift, but did so, i know, most awkwardly. oh! that i had been flogged out of this miserable shyness and _mauvaise honte_ when i was a youth. _august , sunday._ when i arrived in this city i felt dejected, miserably so; the uncertainty as to my reception, my doubts as to how my work would be received, all conspired to depress me. now, how different are my sensations! i am well received everywhere, my works praised and admired, and my poor heart is at last relieved from the great anxiety that has for so many years agitated it, for i know now that i have not worked in vain. this morning i went to church; the sermon was not to my mind, but the young preacher may improve. this afternoon i packed up harlan's "fauna" for mr. e. roscoe, and went to the institution, where mr. munro was to meet me and escort me to mr. wm. roscoe, jr., where i was to take tea. mr. munro was not on hand, so, after a weary waiting, i went alone to mr. roscoe's habitation. it was full of ladies and gentlemen, all his own family, and i knew almost every one. i was asked to imitate the calls of some of the wild birds, and though i did not wish to do so, consented to satisfy the curiosity of the company. i sat between mr. wm. roscoe and his son edward, and answered question after question. finally, the good old gentleman and i retired to talk about my plans. he strongly advises me not to exhibit my works without remuneration. later more guests came in, and more questions were asked; they appeared surprised that i have no wonderful tales to tell, that, for instance, i have not been devoured at least six times by _tigers_, bears, wolves, foxes; no, i never was troubled by any larger animals than ticks and mosquitoes, and that is quite enough. at last one after another took leave. the _well bred_ society of england is the perfection of manners; such tone of voice i never heard in america. indeed, thus far, i have great reason to like england. my plans now are to go to manchester, to derbyshire to visit lord stanley (earl of derby), birmingham, london for three weeks, edinburgh, back to london, and then to france, paris, nantes, to see my venerable stepmother, brussels, and return to england. i am advised to do this by men of learning and excellent judgment, who say this will enable me to find where my work may be published with greatest advantage. i have letters given me to baron humboldt, general la fayette, sir walter scott, sir humphry davy, miss hannah more, miss edgeworth, sir thomas lawrence, etc., etc. how i wish victor could be with me; what an opportunity to see the best of this island; few ordinary individuals ever enjoyed the same reception. many persons of distinction have begged drawing lessons of me at a guinea an hour. i am astonished at the plainness of the ladies' dress; in the best society there are no furbelows and fandangoes. _august ._ i am just now from the society of the learned dr. traill, and have greatly enjoyed two hours of his interesting company; to what perfection men like him can rise in this island of instruction. i dined at mr. edward roscoe's, whose wife wished me to draw something for her while she watched me. i drew a flower for her, and one for miss dale, a fine artist. i am grieved i could not reach "green bank" this evening to enjoy the company of my good friends, the rathbones; they with the roscoes and hodgsons have done more for me in every way than i can express. i must have walked twenty miles to-day on these pavements; that is equal to forty-five in the woods, where there is so much to see. _august ._ although i am extremely fatigued and it is past midnight, i will write. mr. roscoe spoke much of my exhibiting my drawings for an admission fee, and he, as well as dr. traill and others, have advised me so strongly to do so that i finally consented, though not quite agreeable to me, and mr. roscoe drew a draft of a notice to be inserted in the papers, after which we passed some charming hours together. _august ._ the committee of the royal institution met to-day and _requested_ me to exhibit my drawings by ticket of admission. this request must and will, i am sure, take off any discredit attached to the tormenting feeling of showing my work for money. _august ._ the morning was beautiful, and i was out very early; the watchmen have, however, ceased to look upon me with suspicion, and think, perhaps, i am a harmless lunatic. i walked to the "mound" and saw the city and the country beyond the mersey plainly; then i sat on the grass and watched four truant boys rolling marbles with great spirit; how much they brought before me my younger days. i would have liked them still better had they been _clean_; but they were not so, and as i gave them some money to buy marbles, i recommended that some of it be spent in soap. i begin to feel most powerfully the want of occupation at drawing and studying the habits of the birds that i see about me; and the little sparrows that hop in the streets, although very sooty with coal smoke, attract my attention greatly; indeed, i watched one of them to-day in the dust of the street, with as much pleasure as in far different places i have watched the play of finer birds. all this induced me to begin. i bought water colors and brushes, for which i paid dearer than in new orleans. i dined with mr. edward roscoe. as you go to park place the view is extensive up and down the mersey; it gives no extraordinary effects, but is a calming vision of repose to the eyes wearied with the bustle of the streets. there are plenty of steam vessels, but not to be compared to those on the ohio; these look like smoky, dirty dungeons. immediately opposite mr. roscoe's dwelling is a pond where i have not yet seen a living thing, not even a frog. no moccasin nor copper-headed snake is near its margin; no snowy heron, no rose-colored ibis ever is seen here, wild and charming; no sprightly trout, nor waiting gar-fish, while above hovers no vulture watching for the spoils of the hunt, nor eagle perched on dreary cypress in a gloomy silence. no! i am in england, and i cannot but long with unutterable longing for america, charming as england is, and there is nothing in england more charming than the roscoe family. our dinner is simple, therefore healthful. two ladies and a gentleman came in while we were at dessert, and almost as soon as we left the table tea was announced. it is a singular thing that in england dinner, dessert, wines, and tea drinking follow each other so quickly that if we did not remove to another room to partake of the last, it would be a constant repast. i walked back to liverpool, and more than once my eyes were shocked whilst crossing the fields, to see signs with these words: "any person trespassing on these grounds will be prosecuted with the rigor of the law." this must be a mistake, certainly; this cannot be english freedom and liberty, surely. of this i intend to know more hereafter; but that i saw these words painted on boards there is really no doubt. _sunday, august ._ i am greatly disappointed that not yet have i had letters from home, though several vessels have arrived; perhaps to-morrow may bring me what i long for inexpressibly. this morning i went again to the church for the blind, and spent the remainder of the day at my kind friend's, mr. wm. roscoe. _august ._ this day i have passed with the delightful rathbone family at green bank; i have been drawing for mrs. rathbone,[ ] and after dinner we went through the greenhouse and _jardin potager_. how charming is green bank and the true hospitality of these english friends. it is a cold night, the wind blowing like november; it has been the first day of my exhibition of pictures per card, and one hundred and sixty-four persons were admitted. _august . green bank, three miles from liverpool._ i am now at this quiet country home; the morning passed in drawing, and this afternoon i took a long walk with miss rathbone and her nephew; we were accompanied by a rare dog from kamschatka. how i did wish _i_ could have conducted them towards the beech woods where we could move wherever fancy led us; but no, it could not be, and we walked between dreary walls, without the privilege of advancing towards any particular object that might attract the eye. is it not shocking that while in england all is hospitality _within_, all is so different _without_? no one dare _trespass_, as it is called. signs of _large dogs_ are put up; steel traps and spring guns are set up, and even _eyes_ are kept out by high walls. everywhere we meet beggars, for england though rich, has poverty gaping every way you look, and the beggars ask for _bread_,--yes, absolutely for food. i can only pray, may our heavenly father have mercy on them. _august ._ _green bank._ this morning i lay on the grass a long time listening to the rough voice of a magpie; it is not the same bird that we have in america. i drove to the institution with the _queen bee_ of green bank, and this afternoon began a painting of the otter in a trap, with the intention to present it (if it is good) to my friend mr. roscoe's wife. this evening dined at mr. wm. rathbone's, and there met a quaker lady, mrs. abigail ----, who talked much and well about the present condition of england, her poor, her institutions, etc. it is dreadful to know of the want of bread here; will it not lead to the horrors of another revolution? the children of the very poor are often forced by their parents to collect daily a certain amount by begging, or perhaps even stealing; failing to obtain this they are cruelly punished on their return home, and the tricks they resort to, to gain their ends, are numberless and curious. the newspapers abound with such accounts, and are besides filled with histories of murders, thefts, hangings, and other abominable acts; i can scarce look at them. [illustration: flycatchers. (_heretofore unpublished._) from a drawing made by audubon in , and presented to mrs. rathbone of green bank, liverpool. still in the possession of the rathbone family.] _august ._ dined with mr. a. melly in grenville st. the dinner was quite _à la française_, all gayety, witticism, and good cheer. the game, however, was what i call _highly tainted_, the true flavor for the lords of england. _august ._ i painted many hours this day, finished my otter; it was viewed by many and admired. i was again invited to remove to green bank, but declined until i have painted the wild turkey cock for the royal institution, say three days more. _september ._ having been too busy to write for many days, i can only relate the principal facts that have taken place. i have been to two very notable suppers, one at dr. traill's in company with the french consul and two other french gentlemen; i was much encouraged, and urged to visit france at once. the other at the house of mr. molineux; there indeed my ears were feasted; such entertaining conversation, such delightful music; mr. clementi[ ] and mr. tomlinson from london were present. many persons came to my painting room, they wonder at the rapidity of my work and that i can paint fourteen hours without fatigue. my turkeys are now framed, and hung at the institution which is open daily, and paying well. i have made many small drawings for different friends. all my sundays are alike,--breakfast with mr. melly, church with the blind, dinner with mr. roscoe. every one is surprised at my habits of early rising, and at my rarely touching meat, except game. _green bank, september ._ when i reached this place i was told that lady isabella douglass, the sister of lord selkirk, former governor of canada, was here; she is unable to walk, and moves about in a rolling chair. at dinner i sat between her and mrs. rathbone, and i enjoyed the conversation of lady douglass much, her broad scotch accent is agreeable to me; and i amused her by eating some tomatoes raw; neither she, nor any of the company had ever seen them on the table without being cooked. _september ._ dr. traill has ordered all my drawings to be packed by the curator of the institution, so that has given me no trouble whatever. it is hard to say farewell to all those in town and country who have been so kind, so hospitable to me, but to-morrow i leave for manchester, where mr. roscoe advises me to go next. _manchester, county of lancashire, september , ._ i must write something of my coming here. after bidding adieu to many friends, i went to dr. traill, who most kindly insisted on my taking mr. munro with me for two days to assist me, and we left by coach with my portfolios, my trunk to follow by a slower conveyance. i paid one pound for our inside seats. i felt depressed at leaving all my good friends, yet mr. munro did all in his power to interest me. he made me remark lord stanley's domains, and i looked on the hares, partridges, and other game with a thought of apprehension that the apparent freedom and security they enjoyed was very transient. i thought it more cruel to permit them to grow tame and gentle, and then suddenly to turn and murder them by thousands, than to give them the fair show that our game has in our forests, to let them be free and as wild as nature made them, and to let the hunter pay for them by the pleasure and work of pursuing them. we stopped, i thought frequently, to renew the horses, and wherever we stopped a neatly dressed maid offered cakes, ale, or other refreshments for sale. i remarked little shrubs in many parts of the meadows that concealed traps for moles and served as beacons for the persons who caught them. the road was good, but narrow, the country in a high degree of cultivation. we crossed a canal conducting from liverpool here; the sails moving through the meadows reminded me of rochester, n.y. i am, then, now at manchester, thirty-eight miles from liverpool, and nearly six thousand from louisiana. _manchester, september ._ yesterday was spent in delivering my letters to the different persons to whom i was recommended. the american consul, mr. j. s. brookes, with whom i shall dine to-morrow, received me as an american gentleman receives another, most cordially. the principal banker here, arthur heywood, esq., was equally kind; indeed _everywhere_ i meet a most amiable reception. i procured, through these gentlemen, a good room to exhibit my pictures, in the exchange buildings, had it cleared, cleaned, and made ready by night. at five this morning mr. munro (the curator of the institution at liverpool and a most competent help) with several assistants and myself began putting up, and by eleven all was ready. manchester, as i have seen it in my walks, seems a miserably laid out place, and the smokiest i ever was in. i think i ought not to use the words "laid out" at all. it is composed of an astonishing number of small, dirty, narrow, crooked lanes, where one cart can scarce pass another. it is full of noise and tumult; i thought last night not one person could have enjoyed repose. the postilion's horns, joined to the cry of the watchmen, kept my eyelids asunder till daylight again gave me leave to issue from the king's arms. the population appears denser and worse off than in liverpool. the vast number of youth of both sexes, with sallow complexions, ragged apparel, and downcast looks, made me feel they were not as happy as the slaves of louisiana. trade is slowly improving, but the times are dull. i have heard the _times_ abused ever since my earliest recollections. i saw to-day several members of the gregg family. _september , wednesday._ i have visited the academy of sciences; my time here was largely spoiled by one of those busybodies who from time to time rise to the surface,--a dealer in stuffed specimens, and there ends his history. i wished him in hanover, or congo, or new zealand, or bombay, or in a bomb-shell _en route_ to eternity. mr. munro left me to-day, and i removed from the hotel to the house of a mrs. edge, in king street, who keeps a circulating library; here i have more quietness and a comfortable parlor and bedroom. i engaged a man named crookes, well recommended, to attend as money receiver at the door of my exhibition room. i pay him fifteen shillings per week; he finds himself, and copies letters for me. two men came to the exhibition room and inquired if i wished a band of music to entertain the visitors. i thanked them, but do not consider it necessary in the company of so many songsters. my pictures here must depend on their _real_ value; in liverpool i _knew_ i was supported by my particular friends.... it is eleven o'clock, and i have just returned from consul brookes' dinner. the company were all gentlemen, among whom were mr. lloyd, the wealthy banker, and mr. garnet. our host is from boston, a most intelligent and polite man. judge of my surprise when, during the third course, i saw on the table a dish of indian corn, purposely for me. to see me eat it buttered and salted, held as if i intended gagging myself, was a matter of much wonder to the english gentlemen, who did not like the vegetable. we had an english dinner americanized, and the profusion of wines, and the quantity drank was uncomfortable to me; i was constantly obliged to say, "no." the gentleman next me was a good naturalist; much, of course, was said about my work and that of charles bonaparte. the conversation turned on politics, and mr. brookes and myself, the only americans present, ranged ourselves and toasted "our enemies in war, but our friends in peace." i am particularly fond of a man who speaks well of his country, and the peculiar warmth of englishmen on this subject is admirable. i have had a note from lord de tabelay, who is anxious to see my drawings and me, and begs me to go to his domain fourteen miles distant, on my way to birmingham. i observed that many persons who visited the exhibition room investigated my style more closely than at liverpool. a dr. hulme spent several hours both yesterday and to-day looking at them, and i have been asked many times if they were for sale. i walked some four miles out of the town; the country is not so verdant, nor the country seats so clean-looking, as green bank for instance. the funnels raised from the manufactories to carry off the smoke appear in hundreds in every direction, and as you walk the street, the whirring sound of machinery is constantly in your ears. the changes in the weather are remarkable; at daylight it rained hard, at noon it was fair, this afternoon it rained again, at sunset was warm, and now looks like a severe frost. _september , thursday._ i have dined to-day at the home of mr. george w. wood, about two miles from the town. he drove me thither in company with four gentlemen, all from foreign countries, mexico, sumatra, constantinople, and la guayra; all were english and had been travelling for business or pleasure, not for scientific or literary purposes. mrs. wood was much interested in her gardens, which are very fine, and showed me one hundred bags of black gauze, which she had made to protect as many bunches of grapes from the wasps. _september ._ frost. this morning the houses were covered with frost, and i felt uncommonly cold and shivery. my exhibition was poorly attended, but those who came seemed interested. mr. hoyle, the eminent chemist, came with four very pretty little daughters, in little gray satin bonnets, gray silk spencers, and white petticoats, as befitted them, being quakers; also mr. heywood, the banker, who invited me to dine next sunday. i spent the evening at the rev. james i. taylor's, in company with himself, his wife, and two gentlemen, one a parisian. i cannot help expressing my surprise that the people of england, generally speaking, are so unacquainted with the customs and localities of our country. the principal conversation about it always turns to indians and their ways, as if the land produced nothing else. almost every lady in england draws in water-colors, many of them extremely well, very much better than i ever will do, yet few of them dare to show their productions. somehow i do not like manchester. _september , sunday._ i have been thinking over my stay in liverpool; surely i can never express, much less hope to repay, my indebtedness to my many friends there, especially the roscoes, the three families of rathbone, and dr. thomas s. traill. my drawings were exhibited for four weeks without a cent of expense to me, and brought me £ . i gave to the institution a large piece, the wild turkey cock; to mrs. rathbone, sr., the otter in a trap, to mr. roscoe a robin, and to many of my other friends some small drawing, as mementos of one who will always cherish their memories. i wrote a long letter to my son john woodhouse urging him to spend much of his time at drawing _from nature only_, and to keep every drawing with the date, that he may trace improvement, if any, also to speak french constantly, that he may not forget a language in which he is now perfect. i have also written to the governor of new york, his excellency de witt clinton, to whose letters i am indebted for much of my cordial reception here. at two i started for clermont, mr. heywood's residence, where i was to dine. the grounds are fine, and on a much larger scale than green bank, but the style is wholly different. the house is immense, but i was kindly received and felt at ease at once. after dinner the ladies left us early. we soon retired to the library to drink tea, and miss heywood showed me her portfolio of drawings, and not long after i took my leave. _september , monday._ mr. sergeant came for me at half-past three and escorted me to his house. i am delighted with him--his house--his pictures--his books--his guns--and his dogs, and very much so with a friend of his from london, who dined with us. the weather has been beautiful, and more persons than usual at my rooms. _september , tuesday._ i saw mr. melly this morning at the exchange; he had not long arrived from liverpool. he had been to my door-keeper, examined the _book of income_, and told me he was sorry and annoyed at my want of success, and advised me to go at once to london or paris. he depressed me terribly, so that i felt really ill. he invited me to dine with him, but i told him i had already engaged to go to mr. samuel gregg[ ] at quarry bank, fourteen miles distant, to pass the night. mr. gregg, who is the father of a large family, met me as if he had known me fifty years; with him came his brother william and his daughter, the carriage was ready, and off we drove. we crossed a river in the course of our journey nearly fifty feet wide. i was told it was a stream of great importance: the name i have forgotten,[ ] but i know it is seven miles from manchester _en route_ to derbyshire. the land is highly improved, and grows wheat principally; the country is pretty, and many of the buildings are really beautiful. we turn down a declivity to quarry bank, a most enchanting spot, situated on the edge of the same river we had crossed,--the grounds truly picturesque, and cultivated to the greatest possible extent. in the drawing-room i met three ladies, the daughters of mr. gregg, and the second daughter of mr. wm. rathbone. after tea i drew a dog in charcoal, and rubbed it with a cork to give an idea of the improvement over the common stumps ordinarily used. afterwards i accompanied the two brothers to a debating club, instituted on their premises for the advancement of their workmen; on the way we passed a chapel and a long row of cottages for the work-people, and finally reached the schoolroom, where about thirty men had assembled. the question presented was "which was the more advantageous, the discovery of the compass, or that of the art of printing?" i listened with interest, and later talked with the men on some of the wonders of my own country, in which they seemed to be much interested. _quarry bank, september ._ though the weather was cloudy and somewhat rainy, i rose early, took an immense walk, up and down the river, through the gardens, along the road, and about the woods, fields, and meadows; saw a flock of partridges, and at half-past eight had done this and daubed in a sketch of an esquimau in a sledge, drawn by four dogs. the offer was made me to join a shooting party in the afternoon; all was arranged, and the pleasure augmented by the presence of mr. shaw, the principal game-keeper of lord stanford, who obligingly promised to show us many _birds_ (so are partridges called). our guns are no longer than my arm, and we had two good dogs. pheasants are not to be touched till the first of october, but an exception was made for me and one was shot, and i picked it up while his eye was yet all life, his feathers all brilliancy. we had a fine walk and saw the derbyshire hills. mr. shaw pocketed five shillings, and we the game. this was my first hunting on english soil, on lord stanford's domain, where every tree--such as we should call saplings--was marked and numbered, and for all that i know pays either a tax to the government or a tithe to the parish. i am told that a partridge which crosses the river, or a road, or a boundary, and alights on ground other than lord stanford's, is as safe from his gun as if in guinea. _september ._ i returned to town this morning with my pheasant. reached my exhibition room and received miserable accounts. i see plainly that my expenses in manchester will not be repaid, in which case i must move shortly. i called on dr. hulme and represented the situation, and he went to the academy of natural history and ordered a committee to meet on saturday, to see if the academy could give me a room. later i mounted my pheasant, and all is ready for work to-morrow. _september ._ i have drawn all day and am fatigued. only twenty people to see my birds; sad work this. the consul, mr. brookes, came to see me, and advised me to have a subscription book for my work. i am to dine with him at mr. lloyd's at one next sunday. _september ._ my drawing this morning moved rapidly, and at eleven i walked to the exchange and met dr. hulme and several other friends, who told me the committee had voted unanimously to grant me a room gratis to exhibit my drawings. i thanked them most heartily, as this greatly lessens my expenses. more people than usual came to my rooms, and i dined with mr. samuel gregg, senior, in fountain street. i purchased some chalk, for which i paid more than four times as much as in philadelphia, england is so overdone with duty. i visited the cotton mills of george murray, esq., where fifteen hundred souls are employed. these mills consist of a square area of about eight acres, built round with houses five, six, and seven stories high, having in the centre of the square a large basin of water from the canal. two engines of forty and forty-five horse-power are kept going from a. m. to p. m. daily. mr. murray himself conducted me everywhere. this is the largest establishment owned by a single individual in manchester. some others, belonging to companies, have as many as twenty-five hundred hands, as poor, miserable, abject-looking wretches as ever worked in the mines of golconda. i was asked to spend monday night at mr. robert hyde gregg's place, higher ardwick, but i have a ticket for a fine concert, and i so love music that it is doubtful if i go. i took tea at mr. bartley's, and promised to write on his behalf for the bones of an alligator of a good size. now we shall see if he gets one as quickly as did dr. harlan. i have concluded to have a "book of subscriptions" open to receive the names of all persons inclined to have the best illustrations of american birds yet published; but alas! i am but a beginner in depicting the beautiful works of god. _sunday, september ._ i drew at my pheasant till near eleven o'clock, the weather warm and cloudy. then i went to church and then walked to mr. lloyd's. i left the city and proceeded two miles along the turnpike, having only an imperfect view of the country; i remarked, however, that the foliage was deeply colored with autumnal tints. i reached the home of mr. brookes, and together we proceeded to mr. lloyd's. this gentleman met us most kindly at the entrance, and we went with him through his garden and hot-houses. the grounds are on a declivity affording a far view of agreeable landscape, the gardens most beautifully provided with all this wonderful island affords, and the hot-houses contain abundant supplies of exotics, flower, fruit, and shrub. the coffee-tree was bearing, the banana ripening; here were juicy grapes from spain and italy, the sensitive plant shrunk at my touch, and all was growth, blossom, and perfume. art here helps nature to produce her richest treasures at will, and man in england, _if rich_, may be called the god of the present day. flower after flower was plucked for me, and again i felt how perfectly an english gentleman makes a stranger feel at home. we were joined by mr. thomas lloyd and mr. hindley as we moved towards the house, where we met mrs. lloyd, two daughters, and a lady whose name escapes me. we were, of course, surrounded by all that is rich, comfortable, pleasing to the eye. three men servants in livery trimmed with red on a white ground moved quietly as killdeers; everything was choice and abundant; the conversation was general and lively; but we sat at the table _five hours_, two after the ladies left us, and i grew restless; unless drawing or out of doors i like not these long periods of repose. after joining the ladies in the library, tea and coffee were served, and in another hour we were in a coach _en route_ for manchester. _september ._ who should come to my room this morning about seven whilst i was busily finishing the ground of my pheasant but a handsome quaker, about thirty years of age and very neatly dressed, and thus he spoke: "my friends are going out of manchester before thee opens thy exhibition rooms; can we see thy collection at nine o'clock?" i answer, "yes," and show him my drawing. now were all the people here quakers, i might perhaps have some encouragement, but really, my lucy, my times are dull, heavy, long, painful, and my mind much harassed. five minutes before nine i was standing waiting for the quaker and his friends in the lobby of the exchange, when two persons came in and held the following discourse. "pray, have you seen mr. audubon's collections of birds? i am told it is well worth a shilling; suppose we go now." "pah! it is all a hoax; save your shilling for better use. i _have_ seen them; the fellow ought to be drummed out of town." i dared not raise my head lest i might be known, but depend upon it i wished myself in america. the quakers, however, restored my equilibrium, for they all praised my drawings so much that i blushed in spite of my old age. i took my drawing of the pheasant to mr. fanetti's (?) shop and had it put in a good light. i have made arrangements to have my pictures in my new place in king street, and hope to do better next week. at four i took down two hundred and forty drawings and packed them ready for removal. now for the concert. it was six o'clock and raining when i left for fountain street, where already carriages had accumulated to a great number. i presented my ticket, and was asked to write my name and residence, for this is not exactly a public affair, but most select; so i am told. the room is full of red, white, blue, and green turbans well fitted to the handsome heads of the ladies. i went to one side where my ear and my intellect might be well satisfied, and where i should not be noticed; but it would not do, my long hair and unfashionable garments were observed far more than was agreeable to me. but the music soon began, and i forgot all else for the time; still between the various performances i felt myself gazed at through lorgnettes, and was most ill at ease. i have passed many uncomfortable evenings in company, and this one may be added. _quarry bank, september ._ whilst putting up my pictures in my newly granted "apartment" i received a note from mrs. gregg inviting me here for the night to meet professor smyth.[ ] he is a tall, fine-looking gentleman from cambridge, full of knowledge, good taste, and kindness. at dinner the professor sat opposite the woodsman, and america was largely the topic of conversation. one evening spent with people such as these is worth a hundred fashionable ones. _wednesday, september ._ it is a strange atmosphere, warm, damp, rainy, then fair again, all in less than two hours, which was the time consumed by my early walk. on my return soon after eight i found four of the ladies all drawing in the library; that in this country is generally the sitting-room. at about ten we had breakfast, when we talked much of duels, and of my friend clay[ ] and crazy randolph.[ ] much is unknown about our country, and yet all are deeply interested in it. to-morrow i am off to liverpool again; how much i shall enjoy being once again with the charming rathbones. _green bank, near liverpool, september ._ at five this morning i left manchester and its smoke behind me; but i left there the labors of about ten years of my life, fully one half of my collection. the ride was a wet one, heavy rain falling continuously. i was warmly welcomed by my good liverpool friends, and though completely drenched i felt it not, so glad was i to be in liverpool again. my being here is soon explained. i felt it best to see dr. traill and mr. roscoe, and i dined with the latter; we talked of manchester and our friends there, and mr. roscoe thought well of the subscription book. from here to green bank, where i am literally _at home_. mr. rathbone and mr. roscoe will both aid me in the drawing up of a prospectus for my work. _green bank, september ._ it rained during the night and all the early portion of the day. i breakfasted early, and at half-past nine mr. rathbone and i drove in the gig to mrs. wm. s. roscoe.[ ] after a little conversation we decided nothing could be done about the prospectus without more definite knowledge of what the cost of publication would be, and i was again referred to dr. traill. it happened that here i met a mr. bohn, from london, not a publisher, but a bookseller with an immense establishment, two hundred thousand volumes as a regular stock. he advised me to proceed at once to london, meet the principal naturalists of the day, and through them to see the best engravers, colorists, printers, paper-merchants, etc., and thus form some idea of the cost; then to proceed to paris, brussels, and possibly berlin, with proper letters, and follow the same course, thereby becoming able to judge of the advantages and disadvantages attached to each country and _to determine myself when, where, and how_ the work should be undertaken; to be during this time, through the medium of friends, correspondence, and scientific societies, announced to the world in some of the most widely read periodical publications. "then, mr. audubon, issue a prospectus, and bring forth one number of your work, and i think you will succeed and do well; but remember my observations on the _size_ of your book, and be governed by this fact, that at present productions of taste are purchased with delight, by persons who receive much company particularly, and to have your book laid on the table as a pastime, or an evening's entertainment, will be the principal use made of it, and that if it needs so much room as to crowd out other things or encumber the table, it will not be purchased by the set of people who now are the very life of the trade. if large public institutions only and a few noblemen purchase, instead of a thousand copies that may be sold if small, not more than a hundred will find their way out of the shops; the size must be suitable for the _english market_" (such was his expression), "and ought not to exceed that of double wilson." this conversation took place in the presence of dr. traill, and both he and mr. roscoe are convinced it is my only plan. mr. bohn told dr. traill, as well as myself, that exhibiting my pictures would not do well; that i might be in london a year before i should be known at all, but that through the scientific periodicals i should be known over europe in the same time, when probably my first number would be published. he strongly advised me to have the work printed and finished in paris, bring over to england say two hundred and fifty copies, to have it bound and the titlepage printed, to be issued to the world of england as an english publication. _this i will not do_; no work of mine shall be other than true metal--if copper, copper, if gold, gold, but not copper gilded. he admitted it would be a great undertaking, and immensely laborious, but, he added, my drawings being so superior, i might rest assured success would eventually be mine. this plan, therefore, i will pursue with the same perseverance that since twenty-five years has not wavered, and god's will be done. having now determined on this i will return to manchester after a few days, visit thy native place, gaze on the tombs of thy ancestors in derby and leicester, and then enter london with a head humbly bent, but with a heart intently determined to conquer. on returning to this abode of peace, i was overtaken by a gentleman in a gig, unknown to me quite, but who offered me a seat. i thanked him, accepted, and soon learned he was a mr. dearman. he left me at green bank, and the evening was truly delightful. [illustration: from a pencil sketch of audubon. drawn by himself for mrs. rathbone. now in the possession of mr. richard r. rathbone, glan-y-menai, anglesey.] _september , woodcroft._ i am now at mr. richard rathbone's; i did not leave green bank this morning till nearly noon. the afternoon was spent with dr. traill, with whom i dined; there was only his own family, and i was much entertained by dr. traill and his son. a man of such extensive and well digested knowledge as dr. traill cannot fail to be agreeable. about eight his son drove me to woodcroft, where were three other guests, quakers. the remainder of the evening was spent with a beautiful microscope and a diamond beetle. mr. rathbone is enthusiastic over my publishing plans, and i will proceed with firm resolution to attempt the being an author. it is a terrible thing to me; far better am i fitted to study and delineate in the forest, than to arrange phrases with suitable grammatical skill. for the present the public exhibiting of my work will be laid aside,--_i_ hope, forever. i now intend going to matlock, and from there to my lucy's native place, pass through oxford, and so reach the great london, and once more become the man of business. from there to france, but, except to see my venerable mother, i shall not like france, i am sure, as i _now_ do england; and i sincerely hope that this country may be preferred to that, on financial grounds, for the production of my work. yet i love france most truly, and long to enter my old garden on the loire and with rapid steps reach my mother,--yes, my mother! the only one i truly remember; and no son ever had a better, nor more loving one. let no one speak of her as my "stepmother." i was ever to her as a son of her own flesh and blood, and she to me a true mother. i have written to louisiana to have forwarded from bayou sara six segments of magnolia, yellow-poplar, beech, button-wood or sycamore, sassafras, and oak, each about seven or eight inches in thickness of the largest diameter that can be procured in the woods; to have each segment carefully handled so as not to mar the bark, and to have each name neatly painted on the face, with the height of the tree. these are for the liverpool royal institution. _green bank, october ._ though the morning was bright it was near four before i left my room and stepped into the fresh air, where i could watch the timid birds fly from bush to bush before me. i turned towards the mersey reflecting the calm, serene skies, and listened to the voice of the quail, here so shy. i walked to the tide-beaten beach and watched the solan goose in search of a retreat from the destroyer, man. suddenly a poorly dressed man, in somewhat of a sailor garb, and carrying a large bag dashed past me; his movement suggested flight, and instinctively i called, "stop thief!" and made towards him in a style that i am sure he had never seen used by the gentlemen of the customs, who at this hour are doubtless usually drowsy. i was not armed, but to my surprise he turned, fell at my feet, and with eyes starting from his head with apprehension, begged for mercy, said the bag only contained a few leaves of rotten tobacco, and it was the first time he had ever smuggled. this, then, was a smuggler! i told him to rise, and as he did so i perceived the boat that had landed him. there were five men in it, but instead of landing and defending their companion, they fled by rowing, like cowards, swiftly away. i was astonished at such conduct from englishmen. i told the abject creature to bring his bag and open it; this he did. it was full of excellent tobacco, but the poor wretch looked ill and half starved, and i never saw a human being more terrified. he besought me to take the tobacco and let him go, that it was of the rarest quality. i assured him i never had smoked a single cigar, nor did i intend to, and told him to take care he did not offend a second time. one of my pockets was filled with the copper stuff the shop-keepers here give, which they call penny. i gave them all to him, and told him to go. he thanked me many times and disappeared through a thick hedge. the bag must have contained fifty pounds of fine tobacco and two pistols, which were not loaded, or so he said. i walked back to green bank thinking of the smuggler. when i told mr. rathbone of my adventure he said i had been extremely rash, and that i might have been shot dead on the spot, as these men are often desperadoes. well! i suppose i might have thought of this, but dear me! one cannot always think over every action carefully before committing it. on my way back i passed a man digging potatoes; they were small and indifferently formed. the season has been uncommonly dry and hot--so the english say; for my part i am almost freezing most of the time, and i have a bad cough. _october ._ this morning mrs. rathbone asked me if i would draw her a sketch of the wild turkey, about the size of my thumb-nail. i assured her i would with pleasure, but that i could perhaps do better did i know for what purpose. she colored slightly, and replied after a moment that it was for something she desired to have made; so after i had reached the institution and finished my business there, i sat opposite my twenty-three hours' picture and made the diminutive sketch in less than twenty-three minutes. the evening was spent at woodcroft, and mr. rathbone sent his servant to drive me in the gig to green bank, the night being cold and damp. the man was quite surprised i did not make use of a great coat which had been placed at my disposal. how little he knew how often i had lain down to rest, wet, hungry, harassed and full of sorrow, with millions of mosquitoes buzzing round me as i lay awake listening to the chuckmill's widow, the horned owl, and the hoarse bull-frog, impatiently awaiting the return of day to enable me to hunt the forests and feast my eyes on their beautiful inhabitants. i thought of all this and then moved the scene to the hunter's cabin. again wet, harassed, and hungry, i felt the sudden warmth of the "welcome, stranger!" saw the busy wife unhook dry clothes from the side of the log hut, untie my moccasins, and take my deerskin coat; i saw the athletic husband wipe my gun, clean the locks, hang all over the bright fire; the eldest boy pile on more wood, whilst my ears were greeted with the sound of the handmill crushing the coffee, or the rye, for my evening drink; i saw the little ones, roused by the stranger's arrival, peeping from under the buffalo robe, and then turn over on the black bear skin to resume their slumbers. i _saw_ all this, and then arrived at green bank to meet the same hearty welcome. the squatter is rough, true, and hospitable; my friends here polished, true, and generous. both give what they have, freely, and he who during the tough storms of life can be in such spots may well say he has known happiness. [illustration: audubon in indian dress. from a pencil sketch drawn by himself for miss rathbone, . now in the possession of mrs. abraham dixon (_née_ rathbone), london, england.] _green bank, october ._ to-day i have visited the jail at liverpool. the situation is fine, it is near the mouth of the estuary that is called the river mersey, and from its walls is an extensive view of the irish channel. the area owned by this institution is about eight acres. it is built almost circular in form, having gardens in the court in the centre, a court of sessions on one side and the main entrance on the other. it contains, besides the usual cells, a chapel, and yards in which the prisoners take exercise, kitchens, store-rooms, etc., besides treadmills. the treadmills i consider infamous; conceive a wild squirrel in a round cage constantly moving, without progressing. the labor is too severe, and the true motive of correction destroyed, as there are no mental resources attached to this laborious engine of shame. why should not these criminals--if so they are--be taught different trades, enabling them when again thrown into the world to earn their living honestly? it would be more profitable to the government, and the principle would be more honorable. it is besides injurious to health; the wheel is only six feet in diameter, therefore the motion is rapid, and each step must be taken in quick succession, and i know a quick, short step is more fatiguing than a long one. the emaciated bodies of the poor fellows proved this to my eyes, as did my powers of calculation. the circulation of air was much needed; it was painful to me to breathe in the room where the mill was, and i left it saddened and depressed. the female department is even more lamentable, but i will say no more, except that my guide and companion was miss mary hodgson, a quakeress of great benevolence and solid understanding, whose labors among these poor unfortunates have been of immense benefit. i dined with her, her sister and brother, the latter a merchant of this busy city. _manchester, october ._ this morning after four hours' rest i rose early. again taking my boots in my hand, i turned the latch gently, and found myself alone in the early dawn. it was one of those mornings when not sufficiently cold for a frost; the dew lay in large drops on each object, weighing down the points of every leaf, every blade of grass. the heavens were cloudless, all breezes hushed, and the only sound the twitterings of the red-breasted warbler. i saw the blackbird mounted on the slender larch, waiting to salute the morning sun, the thrush on the grass by the mulberry tree, and the lark unwilling to bid farewell to summer. the sun rose, the rook's voice now joined with that of the magpie. i saw a stock pigeon fly over me, and i started and walked swiftly into liverpool. here, arriving before six, no one was up, but by repeated knockings i aroused first mr. pillet, and then mr. melly. on my return to the country i encountered mr. wm. roscoe, also out for an early walk. for several days past the last swallows have flown toward the south, frosts have altered the tints of the foliage, and the mornings have been chilly; and i was rubbing my hands to warm them when i met mr. roscoe. "a fine, warm morning this, mr. audubon." "yes," i replied, "the kind of morning i like a fire with half a cord of wood." he laughed and said i was too tropical in my tastes, but i was glad to keep warm by my rapid walking. at eleven i was on my way to manchester, this time in a private carriage with mrs. rathbone and miss hannah. we changed horses twelve miles from green bank; it was done in a moment, up went a new postilion, and off we went. our luncheon had been brought with us, and was really _well served_ as we rolled swiftly along. after plenty of substantials, our dessert consisted of grapes, pears, and a melon, this last by no means so frequently seen here as in louisiana. we reached smoky manchester and i was left at the door of the academy of natural history, where i found the man i had left in charge much intoxicated. seldom in my life have i felt more vexed. when he is sober i shall give him the opportunity of immediately finding a new situation. _quarry bank, october , saturday._ from green bank to quarry bank from one pleasure to another, is not like the butterfly that skips from flower to flower and merely sees their beauties, but more, i hope, as a bee gathering honeyed stores for future use. my cold was still quite troublesome, and many remedies were offered me, but i never take physic, and will not, even for kind mrs. gregg. _sunday, october ._ i went to church at mr. gregg's chapel; the sermon was good, and the service being over, took miss helen a long ramble through the gardens, in which even now there is much of beauty. _october ._ as soon as possible a male chaffinch was procured, and i sat to draw it to give an idea of what mrs. gregg calls "my style." the chaffinch was outlined, daubed with water-colors, and nearly finished when we were interrupted by callers, dr. holland among them, with whom i was much pleased and interested, though i am neither a craniologist nor a physiognomist. lord stanford's gamekeeper again came for us, and we had a long walk, and i killed a pheasant and a hare. _october ._ to-day i returned to manchester to meet mr. bohn. we went to the academy together, and examined my drawings. mr. bohn was at first simply surprised, then became enthusiastic, and finally said they must be published the full size of life, and he was _sure_ they would pay. god grant it! he strongly advised me to leave manchester, and go to london, where he knew i should at once be recognized. i dined at the good quaker's, mr. dockray, where my friends mrs. and miss rathbone are visiting; there is a large and interesting family. i sketched an egret for one, a wild turkey for another, a wood thrush for a third. _bakewell, october ._ i am at last, my lucy, at the spot which has been honored with thy ancestor's name. though dark and rainy i have just returned from a walk in the churchyard of the village, where i went with miss hannah rathbone, she and her mother having most kindly accompanied me hither. it was perhaps a strange place to go first, but we were attracted by the ancient gothic edifice. it seemed to me a sort of illusion that made me doubt whether i lived or dreamed. when i think how frequently our plans have been laid to come here, and how frequently defeated, it is no great wonder that i find it hard to believe i am here at last. this morning at breakfast, lady rathbone spoke of coming to matlock, and in a few moments all was arranged. she, with her niece, mrs. dockray, and miss hannah, with several of the children and myself, should leave in two chaises at noon. i spent the time till then in going over mr. dockray's wool mill. he procures the wool rough from the sheep, and it is cloth when he disposes of it; he employs about seventy weavers, and many other people in the various departments. i was much interested in the dyeing apparatus. i packed up a few of my drawings to take with me. we started, seven of us, in two chaises; all was new, and therefore interesting. we reached stockport, a manufacturing town lying between two elongated hillsides, where we changed horses, and again at chapel en-la-frith, thirty miles from the point of departure. i saw a good deal of england that i admired very much. the railways were new to me, but the approach of the mountains dampened my spirits; the aridity of the soil, the want of hedges, and of course of birds, the scarcity of cattle, and the superabundance of stone walls cutting the hills in all sorts of distorted ways, made me a very unsocial companion, but the comfortable inn, and our lively evening has quite restored my cheerfulness. _matlock, october ._ this morning i was out soon after sunrise; again i walked round the church, remarked its decaying state, and that of all the thatched roofs of the humble cottages. i ascended the summit of the hill, crossing a bridge which spanned a winding stream, and had a lovely view of the country just lighted by the sun's first beams, and returned to the inn, the rutland arms, in time for the hour of departure, seven. the weather was now somewhat fitful, but the road good, and the valley charming. we passed the seat of the duke of devonshire, and matlock opened to our eyes in all its beauty, the hills dotted with cottages and gentlemen's seats, the autumnal tints diversifying the landscape and enriching beautiful nature; the scenery reminds me of that part of america on the river called the clear juniata. all is remarkably clean; we rise slowly to more elevated ground, leave the river and approach the new baths hotel, where our host, mr. saxton, has breakfast ready. after this we took a long walk, turning many times to view the delightful scenery, though the weather had become quite rainy. we visited the celebrated cave, each carrying a lighted candle, and saw the different chambers containing rich minerals and spars; the walls in many places shone like burnished steel. on our return, which was down-hill, i heard with much pleasure the repeated note of the jackdaws that constantly flew from hole to hole along the rocky declivities about us. after dinner, notwithstanding the rain, we rowed in a boat down the stream, to a dam and a waterfall, where we landed, walked through the woods, gathered some beautiful mosses, and saw some hares, heard a kestrell just as if in america, returned to our boat and again rowed, but this time up-stream, and so left the derwent river. _matlock, october ._ still rainy, but i found a sheltered spot, and made this sketch. we entered part of the grounds of sir thomas arkwright, saw his castle, his church, and his meadows. the rooks and jackdaws were over our heads by hundreds. the steep banks of the derwent were pleasantly covered with shrubby trees; the castle on the left bank, on a fine elevation, is too regular to be called (by me) well adapted to the rich natural scenery about it. we passed along a canal, by a large manufactory, and a coal-yard to the inn, the crumford, and the rest of the day was employed in drawing. the sketch i took was from "the heights of abraham," and i copied it for miss hannah. about sunset we visited the rutland cave, which surpassed all my expectations; the natural chambers sparkled with brilliancy, and lights were placed everywhere. i saw there some little fishes which had not seen the daylight for three years, and yet were quite sprightly. a certain portion of the roof represented a very good head of a large tiger. i imitated, at mrs. rathbone's request, the owl's cry, and the indian yell. this latter music never pleased my fancy much, and i well know the effects it produces previous to and during an attack whilst the scalping knife is at work. we had a pleasant walk back to the inn, for the evening was calm and clear, and the moon shone brightly; so after a hasty tea we all made for the river, took a boat, and seated ourselves to contemplate the peace around us. i rowed, and sung many of the river songs which i learned in scenes far from quiet matlock. _manchester, october , mr. dockray's house, hardwick._ by five o'clock this morning i was running by the derwent; everything was covered with sparkling congealed dew. the fog arising from the little stream only permitted us to see its waters when they made a ripple against some rock. the vale was all mist, and had i not known where i was, and heard the notes of the jackdaws above my head, i might have conceived myself walking through a subterraneous passage. but the sun soon began to dispel the mist, and gradually the tops of the trees, the turrets of the castle, and the church pierced through, and stood as if suspended above all objects below. all was calm till a bell struck my ear, when i soon saw the long files of women and little girls moving towards arkwright's mills. almost immediately we started for bakewell, and breakfasted at the rutland arms. proceeding we changed our route, and made for the well known watering place, buxton, still in derbyshire. the country here is barren, rocky, but so picturesque that the want of trees is almost atoned for. the road winds along a very narrow valley for several miles, bringing a vast variety of detached views before us, all extremely agreeable to the sight. the scantiness of vegetable growth forces the cattle to risk much to obtain food, and now and then when seeing a bull, on bent knee with outstretched neck, putting out his tongue to seize the few grasses hanging over the precipices, i was alarmed for his safety. the hawk here soars in vain; after repeated rounds he is forced to abandon the dreary steep, having espied only a swift kingfisher. suddenly the view was closed, a high wall of rock seemed to put an end to our journey, yet the chaise ran swiftly down-hill, and turning a sharp angle afforded delight to our eyes. here we alighted and walked to view the beauties around at our leisure, and we reached the large inn, the crescent, where i met the american consul, my friend mr. maury, who has visited this place regularly for twenty-five years. we had what my friends called a luncheon; i considered it an excellent dinner, but the english eat heartily. on our resuming our journey a fine drizzle set in, and as we neared manchester the air became thick with coal smoke, the carts, coaches, and horsemen gradually filled the road, faces became less clean and rosy, and the children had none of the liveliness found amongst those in the derbyshire hills. i dreaded returning to the town, yet these days among the beauties of england in such delightful society are enough to refresh one after years of labor. _manchester, october , sunday._ i went to the unitarian chapel to hear a sermon from the rev. john taylor, but to my regret he had gone to preach elsewhere, and i was obliged to content myself with another,--not quite so practical a sermon as i care for. i dined and spent the night at mr. bentley's; after retiring to my room i was surprised at a knock; i opened my door and there stood mr. bentley, who said he thought he heard me asking for something as he passed by. i told him i prayed aloud every night, as had been my habit from a child at my mother's knees in nantes. he said nothing for a moment, then again wished me good-night, and was gone. _october ._ this evening i was to dine with dr. hulme and (as he said) "_a few friends_;" so when at four o'clock i entered his sitting-room, i was surprised to find it filled with ladies and gentlemen, and felt awkward for a moment. some of my drawings were asked for, and at five we went to dinner; after the ladies had retired, wine and wit flowed till a late hour. _quarry bank, miles from manchester, october ._ at five, my cane in hand, i made my way from manchester, bound on foot for quarry bank; the morning was pleasant and i enjoyed my walk very much, but found myself quite out of the right road; therefore, instead of twelve miles, i measured sixteen, and was hungry enough when i reached my destination. i was soon put at my drawing, and drew the whole day; in the afternoon i began a sketch of mr. gregg, and felt quite satisfied with my work, but not so everybody else. faults were found, suggestions made, and i enjoyed the criticisms very much, especially those of an irish nephew of mr. gregg's, who, after several comments, drew me confidentially aside, and asked who it was intended to represent; after this, amid hearty laughter, i concluded to finish it next day. later we took a walk and i entered a cottage where dwelt a silk weaver; all was clean and well arranged, and i saw the weaving going on for the first time since i left france. _october ._ drawing again all morning, and a walk later. i was taken to a cottage, where to my great surprise i saw two cases of well stuffed birds, the work of the weaver who lived in the cottage. i was taken to the dairy, where i saw the finest cattle i have yet met with in england. _october ._ this has been a busy day. on my return from quarry bank i saw mr. bentley, mr. heywood, and other friends. mr. h. gave me a letter to professor jameson, of edinburgh. called on dr. hulme; paid, in all, twenty visits, and dined with mr. bentley,[ ] and with his assistance packed up my birds safe and snug, though much fatigued; it was late when we parted; he is a brother mason and has been most kind to me. i wrote down for mrs. rathbone a brief memorandum of the flight of birds, with a few little pencil sketches to make my figures more interesting: swallows, two and a half miles a minute; wild pigeons, when travelling, two miles per minute; swans, ditto two miles, wild turkeys, one mile and three quarters. _manchester, october , , monday._ this day was absolutely all spent packing and making ready for my start for edinburgh; my seat in the coach taken and paid for,--three pounds fifteen shillings. i spent my last evening with mr. bentley and his family. as the coach leaves at a. m., i am sleeping at the inn to be ready when called. i am leaving manchester much poorer than i was when i entered it. _carlisle, tuesday, october ._ the morning was clear and beautiful, and at five i left manchester; but as no dependence can be placed on the weather in this country, i prepared for rain later. i was alone in the coach, and had been regretting i had no companion, when a very tall gentleman entered, but after a few words, he said he was much fatigued and wished to sleep; he composed himself therefore and soon slept soundly. how i envied him! we rolled on, however, and arrived at the village of preston, where we breakfasted as quickly as if we had been kentuckians. the coaches were exchanged, packages transferred, and i entered the conveyance and met two new gentlemen whose appearance i liked; we soon commenced to chat, and before long were wandering all over america, part of india, and the atlantic ocean. we discussed the emancipation of the slaves, and the starvation of the poor in england, the corn law, and many other topics, the while i looked frequently from the windows. the approach to lancaster is beautiful; the view of the well placed castle is commanding, and the sea view bounded by picturesque shores. we dined at kendal, having passed through bolton and burton, but before this my two interesting companions had been left behind at a place where we stopped to change horses, and only caught up with the coach by running across some fields. this caused much altercation between them, the driver, and the guard; one of the proprietors of the coach who was on board interfered, and being very drunk made matters worse, and a complaint was lodged against driver and guard. the tall gentleman was now wide awake; he introduced himself as a mr. walton, and knew the other gentlemen, who were father and son, the messrs. patison from cornwall; all were extremely polite to me, a stranger in their land, but so have i ever found the _true english gentleman_. we now entered a most dreary country, poor beyond description, immense rolling hills in constant succession, dotted here and there with miserable cots, the residences of poor shepherds. no game was seen, the weather was bleak and rainy, and i cannot say that i now enjoyed the ride beyond the society of my companions. we passed through penrith and arrived at carlisle at half-past nine, having ridden one hundred and twenty-two miles. i was told that in hard winters the road became impassable, so choked with snow, and that when not entirely obstructed it was customary to see posts painted black at the top, every hundred yards or so, to point out the road surely. we had a miserable supper, but good beds, and i enjoyed mine, for i felt very wearied, my cold and cough having been much increased from my having ridden outside the coach some thirty miles, to see the country. _edinburgh, scotland, october , wednesday._ we breakfasted at carlisle, left there at eight, but i was sadly vexed at having to pay twelve shillings for my trunk and portfolio, as i had been positively assured at manchester that no further charge would be made. for perhaps ten miles we passed through an uncommonly flat country, meandering awhile along a river, passed through a village called longtown, and entered _scotland_ at ten minutes before ten. i was then just six miles from the spot where runaway matches are rendered lawful. the country changed its aspect, and became suddenly quite woody; we ran along, and four times crossed a beautiful little stream like a miniature mohawk; many little rapids were seen in its windings. the foliage was about to fall, and looked much as it does with us about our majestic western streams, only much less brilliant. this scenery, however, lasted only one stage of perhaps twelve miles, and again we entered country of the same dreariness as yesterday, mere burnt mountains, which were not interesting. the number of sheep grazing on these hills was very great, and they all looked well, though of a very small species; many of them had black heads and legs, the body white, with no horns; others with horns, and still others very small, called here "cheviots." the shepherds were poor, wrapped up in a thin piece of plaid, and did not seem of that noble race so well painted by sir walter scott. i saw the sea again to-day. we dined at hawick on excellent sea fish, and for the first time in my life, i tasted scotch whiskey. it appeared very potent, so after a few sips i put it down, and told mr. patison i suspected his son of wishing to make me tipsy; to which he replied that probably it was to try if i would in such a case be as good-natured as i was before. i took this as quite a compliment and forgave the son. the conversation at dinner was very agreeable, several scotch gentlemen having joined us; some of them drank their native whiskey pure, as if water, but i found it both smoky and fiery; so much for habit. we passed through selkirk, having driven nearly the whole day through the estates of the young duke of ----, a young fellow of twenty who passes his days just now shooting black-cock; he has something like two hundred thousand pounds per annum. some of the shepherds on this astonishing estate have not probably more than two hundred pounds of oatmeal, a terrible contrast. we passed so near sir walter scott's seat that i stood up and stretched my neck some inches to see it, but in vain, and who knows if i shall ever see the home of the man to whom i am indebted for so much pleasure? we passed a few miles from melrose; i had a great wish to see the old abbey, and the gentleman to whom dr. rutter had given me a letter, but the coach rolled on, and at ten o'clock i entered this splendid city. i have seen yet but a very small portion of it, and that by gaslight, yet i call it a splendid city! the coach stopped at the black bull hotel, but it was so full no room could be procured, so we had our baggage taken to the star. the clerk, the guard, the driver, all swore at my baggage, and said that had i not paid at carlisle, i would have been charged more here. now it is true that my trunk is large and heavy, and so is the portfolio i carry with me, but to give an idea of the charges and impositions connected with these coaches (or their owners) and the attendants, remark the price i paid; to begin with,-- at manchester, £ , at carlisle, , and during the two days to drivers and guards, , --------- £ , nearly twenty-seven dollars in our money for two days' travelling from manchester to edinburgh. it is not so much the general amount, although i am sure it is quite enough for two hundred and twelve miles, but the beggarly manners used to obtain about one half of it; to see a fellow with a decent coat on, who calls himself an independent free-born englishman, open the door of the coach every ten or twelve miles, and beg for a shilling each time, is detestable, and quite an abuse; but this is not all: they never are satisfied, and if you have the appearance of wealth about you, they hang on and ask for more. the porters here were porters indeed, carrying all on their backs, the first i have seen in this island. at the star we had a good supper, and chatted a long time, and it was near one before the messrs. patison and i parted; mr. walton had gone on another course. i thought so much of the multitude of learned men that abound in this place, that i dreaded the delivery of my letters to-morrow. _george st., edinburgh, october ._ it was ten o'clock when i breakfasted, because i wished to do so with the patisons, being so much pleased with their company. i was much interested in the different people in the room, which was quite full, and the waiters were kept skipping about with the nimbleness of squirrels. my companions, who knew edinburgh well, offered to accompany me in search of lodgings, and we soon entered the second door in george street, and in a few minutes made an arrangement with mrs. dickie for a fine bedroom and a well furnished sitting-room. i am to pay her one guinea per week, which i considered low, as the situation is fine, and the rooms clean and comfortable. i can see, from where i am now writing, the frith, and the boats plying on it. i had my baggage brought by a man with a tremendous beard, who imposed on me most impudently by bringing a brass shilling, which he said he would swear i had given him. i gave him another, threw the counterfeit in the fire, and promised to myself to pay some little attention hereafter to what kind of money i give or receive. i walked to professor jameson's[ ] in the circus,--not at home; to james hall, advocate, george st.,--absent in the country. dr. charles henry of the royal infirmary was sought in vain, dr. thompson was out also, and professor duncan[ ] could not be seen until six o'clock. i only saw dr. knox in surgeon's square, and professor jameson at the college. this latter received me, i thought, rather coolly; said that sir walter scott was now quite a recluse, and was busy with a novel and the life of napoleon, and that probably i should not see him. "_not see walter scott?_" thought i; "i shall, if i have to crawl on all-fours for a mile!" but i was a good deal surprised when he added it would be several days before _he_ could pay me a visit, that his business was large, and must be attended to; but i could not complain, as i am bent on doing the same towards myself; and besides, why should i expect any other line of conduct? i have been spoiled by the ever-to-be-remembered families of roscoes and rathbones. dr. knox came at once to see me, dressed in an overgown and with bloody fingers. he bowed, washed his hands, read dr. traill's letter, and promised me at once to do all in his power for me and my drawings, and said he would bring some scientific friends to meet me, and to examine my drawings. dr. knox is a distinguished anatomist, and a great student; professor jameson's special science is mineralogy. i walked a good deal and admired the city very much, the great breadth of the streets, the good pavements and footways, the beautiful buildings, their natural gray coloring, and wonderful cleanliness; perhaps all was more powerfully felt, coming direct from dirty manchester, but the picturesqueness of the _toute ensemble_ is wonderful. a high castle here, another there, on to a bridge whence one looks at a second city below, here a rugged mountain, and there beautiful public grounds, monuments, the sea, the landscape around, all wonderfully put together indeed; it would require fifty different views at least to give a true idea, but i will try from day to day to describe what i may see, either in the old or new part of the town. i unpacked my birds and looked at them with pleasure, and yet with a considerable degree of fear that they would never be published. i felt very much alone, and many dark thoughts came across my mind; i felt one of those terrible attacks of depression to which i so often fall a prey overtaking me, and i forced myself to go out to destroy the painful gloom that i dread at all times, and of which i am sometimes absolutely afraid. after a good walk i returned more at ease, and looked at a pair of stuffed pheasants on a large buffet in my present sitting-room, at the sweetly scented geraniums opposite to them, the black hair-cloth sofa and chairs, the little cherubs on the mantelpiece, the painted landscape on my right hand, and the mirror on my left, in which i saw not only my own face, but such strong resemblance to that of my venerated father that i almost imagined it was he that i saw; the thoughts of my mother came to me, my sister, my young days,--all was at hand, yet how far away. ah! how far is even the last moment, that is never to return again. _edinburgh, october , ._ i visited the market this morning, but to go to it i first crossed the new town into the old, over the north bridge, went down many flights of winding steps, and when at the desired spot was positively _under_ the bridge that has been built to save the trouble of descending and mounting from one side of edinburgh to the other, the city being mostly built on the slopes of two long ranges of high, broken hills. the vegetable market was well arranged, and looked, as did the sections for meats and fruits, attractive; but the situation, and the narrow booths in which the articles were exhibited, was, compared with the liverpool market, nothing. i ascended the stairs leading to the new town, and after turning to the right, saw before me the monument in honor of nelson, to which i walked. its elevated situation, the broken, rocky way along which i went, made it very picturesque; but a tremendous shower of rain accompanied by a heavy gust of cold wind made me hurry from the spot before i had satisfied myself, and i returned _home_ to breakfast. i was struck with the resemblance of the women of the lower classes to our indian squaws. their walk is precisely the same, and their mode of carrying burdens also; they have a leather strap passed over the forehead attached to large baskets without covers, and waddle through the streets, just like the shawanees, for instance. their complexion, if fair, is beyond rosy, partaking, indeed, of purple--dull, and disagreeable. if dark, they are dark indeed. many of the men wear long whiskers and beards, and are extremely uncouth in manners, and still more so in language. i had finished breakfast when messrs. patison came to see my drawings, and brought with them a miss ewart, who was said to draw beautifully. she looked at one drawing after another, but remained mute till i came to the doves; she exclaimed at this, and then told me she knew sir walter scott well, "and," she added, "he will be delighted to see your magnificent collection." later i called again at dr. thompson's, but as he was not at home, left the letter and my card; the same at professor duncan's. i then walked to the fish market, where i found patrick neill, esq.,[ ] at his desk, after having passed between two long files of printers at their work. mr. neill shook hands cordially, gave me his home address, promised to come and see me, and accompanied me to the street, begging me not to visit the museum until professor jameson had sent me a general ticket of admission. i went then to the port of leith, distant not quite three miles, but missing my way, reached the frith of forth at trinity, a small village on the bay, from whence i could see the waters of the german ocean; the shore opposite was distant about seven miles, and looked naked and hilly. during my walk i frequently turned to view the beautiful city behind me, rising in gradual amphitheatre, most sublimely backed by mountainous clouds that greatly improved the whole. the wind was high, the waters beat the shore violently, the vessels at anchor pitched,--all was grand. on inquiry i found this was no longer an admiral's station, and that in a few more weeks the steamboats that ply between this and london, and other parts of the north of this island, would stop their voyages, the ocean being too rough during the winter season. i followed along the shores, and reached leith in about twenty minutes. i saw a very pretty iron jetty with three arches, at the extremity of which vessels land passengers and freight. leith is a large village apparently, mostly connected with hamburg and the seaports of holland. much business is going on. i saw here great numbers of herring-boats and the nets for capturing these fishes; also some curious drags for oysters, clams, and other shellfish. the docks are small, and contain mostly dutch vessels, none of them large. an old one is fitted up as a chapel for mariners. i waited till after sunset before returning to my lodgings, when i told my landlady i was going to the theatre, that i might not be locked out, and went off to see "rob roy." the theatre not opening till half-past six, i spent some little time in a bookseller's shop, reading an account of the palace and chapel of holyrood. the pit, where i sat, was crowded with gentlemen and ladies; for ladies of the second class go to the pit, the superior classes to the boxes, and those of neither class way above. the house is small but well lighted. "god save the king" was the overture, and every one rose uncovered. "rob roy" was represented as if _positively_ in the highlands; the characters were natural, the scenery perfectly adapted, the dress and manners quite true to the story. i may truthfully say that i saw a good picture of the great outlaw, his ellen, and the unrelenting dougal. i would, were it possible, always see "rob roy" in edinburgh, "le tartuffe" in paris, and "she stoops to conquer" in england. "rob roy," as exhibited in america, is a burlesque; we do not even know how the hardy mountaineer of this rigid country throws on his plaid, or wears his cap or his front piece, beautifully made of several tails of the red deer; neither can we render the shrill tone of the horn bugle that hangs at his side, the merry bagpipe is wanted, also the scenery. i would just as soon see "le tartuffe" in broken french, by a strolling company, as to see "rob roy" again as i have seen it in kentucky. it is almost to be regretted that each country does not keep to its own productions; to do otherwise only leads to fill our minds with ideas far different from the truth. i did not stay to see "rosina;" though i liked miss stephens pretty well, yet she is by no means equal to miss foote. _edinburgh, october , ._ to-day i have visited the royal palace of holyrood; it is both interesting and curious, especially the chapel and the rooms where the present king of france resided during his exile. i find professor jameson is engaged with mr. selby[ ] and others in a large ornithological publication, and mr. ed. roscoe has written, suggesting that i try to connect myself with them; but my independent spirit does not turn to the idea with any pleasure, and i think if my work deserves the attention of the public, it must stand on its own legs, not on the reputation of men superior in education and literary acquirements, but possibly not so in the actual observation of nature at her best, in the wilds, as i certainly have seen her. _october , sunday._ with the exception of the short walk to the post-office with my letters, i have been as busy as a bee all day, for i have written much. yesterday at ten messrs. patison brought twelve ladies and the messrs. thomas and john todd of this city to see my drawings; they remained full two hours. professor duncan came in and was truly a kind friend. after my company had left, and i had been promised several letters for sir walter scott, i took a walk, and entered a public garden, where i soon found myself a prisoner, and where, had i not found a pretty maid who took pity on my _étourderie_, i certainly would have felt very awkward, as i had neither letter nor pocket-book to show for my identification. i then went in search of a scotch pebble; one attracted me, but a boy in the shop said his father could make one still handsomer. i wanted not pebbles made by man, i wanted them the result of nature, but i enquired of the lad how they were made. without hesitation the boy answered: "by fire-heat, and whilst the pores of the pebbles are open colored infusions are impregnated." now what will not man do to deceive his brother? i called on mr. jeffrey,[ ] who was not in; he comes from his hall, two and a half miles off, every day for two hours, from two to four o'clock; therefore i entered his sanctum sanctorum, sealed the letter, and wrote on my card that i would be happy to see him. what a mass of books, papers, portfolios, dirt, beautiful paintings, engravings, casts, with such parcels of unopened packages all directed "francis jeffrey, esq." whilst i looked at this mass i thought, what have _i_ done, compared with what this man has done, and has to do? i much long to see the famous critic. as i came away my thoughts reverted to holyrood palace. what a variety of causes has brought king after king to that spot; what horrors have been committed there! the general structure is not of a defensive nature; it lies in a valley, and has simply its walls to guard it. i was surprised that the narrow stairs which led to the small chamber where the murder was committed, communicated at once with the open country, and i was also astonished to see that the mirrors were positively much superior to those of the present day in point of intrinsic purity of reflection; the plates cannot be less than three-fourths of an inch in thickness. the furniture is all decaying fast, as well as the paintings which are set into the walls. the great room for the king's audience contains a throne by no means corresponding with the ideas _de luxe_ that i had formed. the room, however, being hung in scarlet cloth, had a very warm effect, and i remember it with pleasure. i also recall the view i then had from a high hill, of the whole city of edinburgh and the country around the sea; the more i look on edinburgh the better i like it. to-day, as i have said, i have been in my rooms constantly, and after much writing received dr. knox and a friend of his. the former pronounced my drawings the finest of their kind in the world. no light praise this. they promised to see that i was presented to the wernerian society, and talked very scientifically, indeed quite too much so for the poor man of the woods. they assured me the ornithological work now about being published by messrs. "selby, jameson, and sir somebody[ ] and co.," was a "job book." it is both amusing and distressing to see how inimical to each other men of science are; and why are they so? _october ._ mr. neill took me to a mr. lizars,[ ] in st. james square, the engraver for mr. selby, who came with us to see my work. as we walked along under an umbrella he talked of nothing else than the astonishing talent of his employer, how quickly he drew and how well, until we reached my lodgings. i lost hope at every step, and i doubt if i opened my lips. i slowly unbuckled my portfolio, placed a chair for him, and with my heart like a stone held up a drawing. mr. lizars rose from his seat, exclaiming: "my god! i never saw anything like this before." he continued to be delighted and astonished, and said sir william jardine[ ] must see them, and that he would write to him; that mr. selby must see them; and when he left at dark he went immediately to mr. wm. heath, an artist from london, who came at once to see me. i had gone out and missed him; but he left a note. not knowing who he might be, i went to see him, up three pairs of stairs, _à l'artisan_; met a brunette who was mrs. heath, and a moment after the gentleman himself. we talked together, he showed me some of his work and will call on me to-morrow. _october ._ so at last professor jameson has called on me! that warm-hearted mr. lizars brought him this morning, just as i was finishing a letter to victor. he was kind to me, very kind, and yet i do not understand the man clearly; he has a look quite above my reach, i must acknowledge, but i am to breakfast with him to-morrow at nine. he says he will, with my permission, announce my work to the world, and i doubt not i shall find him an excellent friend. dr. thompson's sons came in, tall, slender, and well-looking, made an apology for their father, and invited me to breakfast on thursday; and young dr. henry called and also invited me to breakfast. mr. patrick symes, a learned scotchman, was with me a long time, and my morning was a very agreeable one within, though outside it was cold and rained. edinburgh even in the rain, for i took a walk, is surprisingly beautiful, picturesque, romantic; i am delighted with it. mr. lizars has invited me to call at _nine_ to spend the evening with him; now i call it much more as if going to spend the night. i met mrs. lizars when i stopped at his house for a moment to-day; she is the first lady to whom i have been introduced here, and is a very beautiful one. eleven and a half o'clock and i have just returned from mr. lizars, where my evening has been extremely pleasant. i have seen some of mr. selby's original drawings, and some of sir william jardine's, and i no longer feel afraid. but i must to rest, for i hate late hours and love to be up before daylight. _november ._ i breakfasted at professor jameson's. a most splendid house, splendid everything, breakfast to boot. the professor wears his hair in three distinct, different courses; when he sits fronting the south, for instance, the hair on his forehead bends westwardly, the hair behind eastwardly, and the very short hair on top mounts directly upward, perhaps somewhat like the quills of the "fretful porcupine." but never mind the ornamental, external appendages of his skull, the sense _within_ is great, and full of the nobleness which comes from a kind, generous heart. professor jameson to-day is no more the man i took him to be when i first met him. he showed me an uncommon degree of cordiality, and promised me his powerful assistance so forcibly that i am sure i can depend upon him. i left him and his sister at ten, as we both have much to do besides talking, and drinking hot, well creamed coffee; but our separation was not long, for at noon he entered my room with several gentlemen to see my drawings. till four i was occupied showing one picture after another, holding each one at arm's-length, and was very tired, and my left arm once i thought had an idea of revolutionizing. when my guests had gone i walked out, took plenty of needed exercise, often hearing remarks about myself such as "that's a german physician;" "there's a french nobleman." i ended my walk at mr. lizars', and while with him expressed a wish to secure some views of beautiful edinburgh; he went to another room and brought in a book of views for me to look at, which i did with interest. he then asked me to draw something for him, and as i finished a vignette he pushed the book of superb edinburgh towards me; on the first leaf he had written, "to john j. audubon, as a very imperfect expression of the regard entertained for his abilities as an artist, and for his worth as a friend, by william h. lizars, engraver of the 'views of edinburgh.'" i saw--though by gas-light--some of mr. lizars' work, printing from copper, coloring with water-color and oils, etc., on the same, for the first time in my life. how little i know! how ignorant i am! but i will learn. i went to bed after reading sir walter's last novel till i was so pleased with the book that i put it under my pillow to dream about, as children do at christmas time; but my dreams all went another way and i dreamed of the beech woods in my own dear land. _november , thursday._ i drew the bell at the door of no. george street, where lives dr. thompson, just as the great bell of st. andrews struck nine, and we soon sat down to breakfast. dr. thompson is a good, and good-looking man, and extremely kind; at the table were also his wife, daughter, son, and another young gentleman; and just as my second cup of coffee was handed to me a certain dr. fox entered with the air of an old friend, and at once sat down. he had been seventeen years in france, and speaks the language perfectly, of course. after having spoken somewhat about the scrubbiness of the timber here, and the lofty and majestic trees of my country dear, i rose to welcome mrs. lizars, who came in with her husband and some friends. mr. lizars had not seen one of my largest drawings; he had been enamoured with the mocking-birds and rattle-snake, but, lucy, the turkeys--her brood, the pose of the cock turkey--the hawk pouncing on seventeen partridges, the whooping crane devouring alligators newly born--at these he exclaimed again and again. all were, he said, wonderful productions; he wished to engrave the partridges; but when the great-footed hawks came with bloody rags at their beaks' ends, and cruel delight in the glance of their daring eyes, he stopped mute an instant, then said, "_that_ i will engrave and publish." we were too numerous a party to transact business then, and the subject was adjourned. fatigued and excited by this, i wrote for some hours, and at four walked out and paid my respects to young dr. henry at the infirmary,--a nice young man,--and at five i found myself at mr. lizars', who at once began on the topic of my drawings, and asked why i did not publicly exhibit them. i told him how kind and generous the institution at liverpool had been, as well as manchester, and that i had a letter of thanks from the committees. he returned with me to my lodgings, read the letter, and we marched arm in arm from mrs. dickie's to professor jameson, who kept the letter, so he said, to make good use of it; i showed mr. lizars other letters of recommendation, and as he laid down the last he said: "mr. audubon, the people here don't know who you are at all, but depend upon it they _shall_ know." we then talked of the engraving of the hawks, and it seems that it will be done. perhaps even yet fame may be mine, and enable me to provide all that is needful for my lucy and my children. wealth i do not crave, but comfort; and for my boys i have the most ardent desire that they may receive the best of education, far above any that i possess; and day by day science advances, new thoughts and new ideas crowd onward, there is always fresh food for enjoyment, study, improvement, and i must place them where all this may be a possession to them. _november , friday._ my birds were visited by many persons this day, among whom were some ladies, artists, of both ability and taste, and with the numerous gentlemen came professor james wilson,[ ] a naturalist, an agreeable man, who invited me to dine at his cottage next week. mr. lizars, who is certainly _mon bon cheval de bataille_, is exerting himself greatly in my behalf. at half-past three good mr. neill came, and together we walked towards his little hermitage, a sweet spot, quite out of town; nice garden, hot-house filled with exotics, and house-walls peopled by thousands of sparrows secure in the luxuriant masses of ivy that only here and there suffer the eye to see that the habitat is of stone. the heron's sharp lance lay on his downy breast while he balanced on one leg, silent and motionless; the kittiwake gull screamed for food; the cormorant greedily swallowed it; whilst the waddling gannet welcomed her master by biting his foot, the little bantams and the great rooster leaped for the bread held out, the faithful pigeon cooed to his timid mate, and the huge watch-dog rubbed against the owner's legs with joy. we entered the house, other guests were there, and full of gayety we sat down to a sumptuous dinner. eyes sparkled with wit, sense, knowledge. mr. combe[ ] who was present has a head quite like our henry clay. my neighbor, mr. bridges,[ ] is all life; but after a few observations concerning the birds of our woods he retired to let the world know that many of them are arrived in scotland. it is unanimously agreed that i must sit for my portrait to mr. syme,[ ] and that friend lizars must engrave it to be distributed abroad. on my return to my lodgings i was presented with some pears and apples of native growth, somewhat bigger than green peas; but ah! this is both ungrateful and discourteous. to-morrow i am to meet lord somebody, and miss stephens; she was called "that delicious actress" so fervently and so frequently by my learned friends that i reverse my judgment, or will at least suspend it, until i see more of her. _november , saturday._ now had i the faculties of my good friend mr. bridges, i should be able to write all that i feel towards him and the good people of this romantic edina's academic halls; i would set to, and write long accounts of all i have enjoyed this day. but, alas! poor me! i can only scratch a few words next to unintelligible, and simply say that my little room has been full all day of individuals good, great, and friendly, and i am very wearied to-night; it is now past one. i dined at mr. lizars', where were beauties, music, conviviality, and wit. i am working hard withal; i do with four hours' sleep, keep up a great correspondence, keep up my journal, and write many hours on the letter-press for my "birds" which is almost done. _november , sunday._ at ten o'clock my room was filled with visitors. friend bridges came, and stayed a long time. miss stephens the actress and her brother also paid me a visit. mr. bridges insisted on my going home to dine with him at four, and i never perceived i was in my slippers till i reached the port of destination. a mr. hovey dined with us. mrs. bridges is a stately, handsome lady, and the _diner en famille_ pleased me exceedingly. i saw quite a stock of pictures and engravings, well selected by my knowing friend. i returned home early and found a note from mr. john gregg, who came himself later bringing me a _scrubby_ letter from charles waterton,[ ] and a sweet little sketch from fair ellen of quarry bank. i was delighted to see him; it seemed like _old times_ to me. with all this i am by no means in spirits to write, i am so alone in this strange land, so far from those i love the best, and the future rises ofttimes dark before me. _monday, november ._ the same sad heart to-day, and but little work and much company. i was glad, however, to see those who came, among others my coach companion from manchester, mr. walton, who invited me in a very friendly manner to see him often. it snowed this morning, and was quite a new sight to me, for i have not seen any for about five years--i think. the papers give such accounts of my drawings and of myself that i am quite ashamed to walk the streets; but i am dispirited and melancholy. _sunday, november ._ i do not know when i have thus pitilessly put away my journal for nearly two weeks. my head and heart would not permit me to write, so i must try to _memorandum_ now all i have _seen_. what i have _felt_ is too much for me to write down, for when these attacks of depression overwhelm me life is almost unendurable. every day i exhibited my drawings to those who came to see them. i had many noblemen, among whom i especially liked sir patrick walker and his lady; but i welcomed all ladies, gentlemen, artists, and, i dare say, critics. at last the committee of the royal institution invited me to exhibit publicly in their rooms; i owe this invitation, i know, to the astonishing perseverance of some unknown friends. when my pictures were removed there i was no longer "at home." i painted from dawn to dark, closely, and perhaps more attentively than i ever have done before. the picture was large, contained a turkey cock, a hen, and nine young, all the size of life. mr. lizars and his amiable wife visited me often; often i spent the evenings with them. mr. david bridges, mr. cameron, and several others had regular admittance, and they all saw the regular progress of my work; all, apparently, admired it. i dined at many houses, was always kindly received, and as far as my isolated condition and unfortunate melancholy permitted, enjoyed myself. it was settled by mr. lizars that he would undertake the publication of the first number of the "birds of america," and that was enough to put all my powers of acting and thinking at fever heat. the papers also began to be more eulogistic of the merits of myself and my productions, and i felt bewildered with alternate uncertainties of hope and fear. i have received many letters from my dear liverpool friends, and one, most precious of all, from the wonderful "queen bee" of green bank, with a most beautiful seal of the wild turkey and the motto "america, my country."[ ] when my drawings were exhibited to the public, professors, students, artists, spoke well of them. i forwarded by post seventy-five tickets to the principal persons who had been kind to me, and to all the artists in edinburgh. i sat once for my portrait, but my picture kept me at home ever since. i saw, and dined, and dined again with sir william jardine, and like him very much. he visited me frequently, and sat and stood watching me painting during his stay in the city. the famous phrenologist george combe visited me also; spoke much of the truth of his theory as exhibited and verified by my poor skill; begged i would allow a cast of my head to be taken, etc., etc., and sent me a card of admission to his lectures this winter. the famous professor wilson of "blackwood" fame, i might almost say the author of "blackwood's magazine," visited me also, and was very friendly; indeed, every one is kind, most truly so. how proud i feel that in edinburgh, the seat of learning, science, and solidity of judgment, i am liked, and am received so kindly. how much i wish my lucy could also enjoy it, that our sons might have partaken of it, this would have rendered each moment an age of pleasure. i have now determined to remain here till my first number is published, when i shall go to liverpool again, with proofs in hand. i will forward some of this number to the friends at home as well as abroad, and will continue painting here the while, and watch the progress of the engravers and colorists; two drawings are now under the hand of the engraver, and god grant me success. i am going to try to find time to spend a week at jardine hall, and some days at mrs. fletcher's; it will remove me from the pressure and excitement to which i am hourly subjected, and be a complete change for me in every way. _november ._ whilst my breakfast was preparing, and daylight improving, i sat at my little table to write a notice of descriptive import about my painting of the wild turkeys that now leaned against the wall of my room, _finished_. my breakfast came in, but my pen carried me along the arkansas river, and so much did i long for my beloved country that not a morsel could i swallow. while writing, mr. bridges, who usually pays me a daily visit, happened to come in. i read my description and told him it was my intention to have it printed, or written out in a clear hand, to lay on the table of the exhibition room, for the use of the public. he advised me to go to professor wilson for criticism; so i went at once to his residence, and reached "blackwood's" door about ten o'clock. i did not even ask if professor wilson was in; no, i simply told the man to say mr. audubon from america wished to speak with him. in a moment i was conducted to a room where i wished that all that had been written in it was my own to remember, to enjoy, to profit by; but i had not been here many minutes before a sweet child, a happy daughter of this great man, asked me to go upstairs, saying, "papa will be there in a minute;" and truly, almost at once the professor came in, with freedom and kindness of manner, life in his eye, and benevolence in his heart. my case was soon explained; he took my paper, read it, and said if i would allow him to keep it, he would make one or two alterations and return it in good time. back to my lodgings and hungry by this time, and cooled off, my mind relieved, my painting finished, i dressed more carefully and walked to the royal institution, and was pleased at seeing there a good deal of company. but the disagreeable part of my day is yet to come. i had to dine at professor graham's,[ ] it was five o'clock when i reached there, a large assembly of ladies and gentlemen were there, and i was introduced to mrs. graham only, by some oversight i am sure, but none the less was my position awkward. there i stood, motionless as a heron, and when i dared, gazed about me at my surroundings, but no one came near me. there i stood and thought of the concert at manchester; but there was this difference: _there_ i was looked at rudely, _here_ i was with polite company; so i waited patiently for a change of situation, and the change came. a woman, aye, an angel, spoke to me in such a quiet, easy way that in a few moments my _mal aise_ was gone; then the ringing of a bell summoned us to the dining-room; i sat near the blue satin lady (for her name i do not know) who came to my rescue, and a charming young lady, miss m----, was my companion. but the sumptuous dinners of this country are too much for me. they are so long, so long, that i recall briefer meals that i have had, with much more enjoyment than i eat the bountiful fare before me. this is not a _goûter_ with friend bourgeat on the flat lake, roasting the orange-fleshed ibis, and a few sun-perch; neither is it on the heated banks of thompson's creek, on the fourth of july, swallowing the roasted eggs of a large soft-shelled turtle; neither was i at henderson, at good dr. rankin's, listening to the howlings of the wolves, while sitting in security, eating well roasted and jellied venison,--no, alas! it was far from all these dear spots, in great king street, no. , at dr. graham's, a distinguished professor of botany, with a dinner of so many rich dishes that i cannot remember them. _november ._ i have just finished a long letter to mr. wm. rathbone, telling him of my reception in beautiful edinburgh, and my present plans, which are to publish one number at my own expense and risk, and with it under my arm, make my way. if i can procure three hundred good substantial names of persons or associations or institutions, i cannot fail doing well for my family; but, to do this, i must abandon my life to its success, and undergo many sad perplexities, and perhaps never again--certainly not for some years--see my beloved america. the work, from what i have seen of mr. lizars' execution, will be equal to anything in the world at present, and of the rest the world must judge for itself. i shall superintend both engraving and coloring personally, and i pray my courage may not fail; my industry i know will not. it is true the work will be procured only at a great expense, but then, a number of years must elapse before it is completed, so that renders payment an easier task. this is what i shall _try_; if i do not succeed i can return to my woods and there in peace and quiet live and die. i am sorry that some of my friends, particularly dr. traill, are against the pictures being the size of life, and i must acknowledge it renders the work rather bulky, but my heart was always bent on it, and i cannot refrain from attempting it. i shall publish the letter-press in a separate book, at the same time with the illustrations, and shall accompany the descriptions of the birds with many anecdotes and accounts of localities connected with the birds themselves, and with my travels in search of them. i miss my "wild turkeys," on which i worked steadily and from dawn to dark, a long time here,--for sixteen days. it would be impossible for me to write down all my feelings and thoughts about my work, or my life here; it may be that in time i shall be reconciled or habituated to the life i now lead, but i can scarce believe this, and often think the woods the only place in which i truly _live_. _november , ._ i have been drawing all day at some wood pigeons, as they are emphatically called here, though woods there are none. the day was cold, wet, and snowy. mr. lizars, however, called with dr. brewster,[ ] an eminent and entertaining man. i received a note from geo. combe, esq., the phrenologist, who wishes to plaster my poor head to take an impression of the bumps, ordinary and extraordinary; he also invited me to sup with him on monday next. i was to dine at dr. monroe's, craiglockhart, near slateford, so i dressed and sent for a coach that took me _two and a half_ miles for _twelve_ shillings, and i had to pay one shilling toll,--a dear dinner this. i arrived and entered a house richly furnished, and was presented to three ladies, and four gentlemen. the ladies were mrs. monroe, miss maria monroe, and mrs. murray; amongst the gentlemen i at once recognized the amiable and learned staff-surgeon lyons. mrs. monroe i found a woman of most extraordinary powers, a brilliant conversationalist, highly educated, and most attractive. she sat by me, and entertained me most charmingly, and the rest of her company as well. i need not say the dinner was sumptuous, for i find no other kind in hospitable edinburgh. after dinner we had music from miss monroe, a skilled songstress, and her rich voice, with the pathetic scotch ballads which she sang so unaffectedly, brought tears to my eyes. my return to my lodgings was very cold, for snow lies all about the hills that surround this enchanting city. _sunday, november ._ i went to a scotch church this morning, but it was cold and the services seemed to me cold also, but it may have been that i was unaccustomed to them. snow lay thick on the ground and my lodgings looked cheerless, all but my picture, at which i worked on my return. i had put my work on the floor, and was standing on a chair to see the effect at a good distance, when mrs. lizars entered with her husband; they had come to invite me to dine with them on roasted sheep's-head (a scotch dish), and i was glad to accept, for i was on the verge of a fit of depression, one of those severe ones when i am almost afraid to be alone in my lodgings; alone indeed i am, without one soul to whom i can open my heart. true, i have been alone before, but that was in beloved america, where the ocean did not roll between me and my wife and sons. at four, therefore, i reached james' square and dined with these good people without pomp or ostentation; it is the only true way to live. found the sheep's-head delicious, and spent the evening most agreeably. i was shown many beautiful sketches, and two plates of my birds well advanced. mr. lizars walked home with me; the weather was intensely cold, and the wind blew a gale; on turning a corner it almost threw me down, and although warmly dressed i felt the chill keenly. this morning seems a long way off, so many things have i thought of this day. _monday, november ._ as soon as it dawned i was up and at work, and quite finished my drawing before breakfast. mr. syme came to see me, and was surprised to find it done. i had also outlined my favorite subject, the otter in a trap. at twelve i went to _stand up_ for my picture, and sick enough i was of it by two; at the request of mr. lizars i wear my wolf-skin coat, and if the head is not a strong likeness, perhaps the coat may be; but this is discourteous of me, even to my journal. mr. lizars brought a mr. key, an artist, to throw a sky over my drawing, and the gentleman did it in handsome style, giving me some hints about this kind of work for which i am grateful. i dined at home on herrings, mutton-chops, cabbage, and fritters. as i am now going to sup with mr. george combe, i will write to-morrow what i may hear to-night. a kind note from professor jameson, whom i have not seen for some time, for he is a busy man, with a card of admittance to the museum. _tuesday, th._ after writing thus far i left my room and went to watch the engravers at work on my birds. i was delighted to see how faithfully copied they were, and scarcely able to conceive the great "_adroit_" required to form all the lines exactly _contrary_ to the model before them. i took a cup of coffee with mr. and mrs. lizars, went home to dress, and at nine was again with mr. lizars, who was to accompany me to mr. combe's, and reaching brower square we entered the dwelling of phrenology! mr. scot, the president of that society, mr. d. stewart,[ ] mr. mcnalahan, and many others were there, and also a german named charles n. weiss, a great musician. mr. george combe immediately asked this gentleman and myself if we had any objection to have our heads _looked at_ by the president, who had not yet arrived. we both signified our willingness, and were seated side by side on a sofa. when the president entered mr. combe said: "i have here two gentlemen of talent; will you please tell us in what their natural powers consist?" mr. scot came up, bowed, looked at mr. weiss, felt his head carefully all over, and pronounced him possessed of musical faculty in a great degree; i then underwent the same process, and he said: "there cannot exist a moment of doubt that this gentleman is a painter, colorist, and compositor, and i would add an amiable, though quick-tempered man." much conversation ensued, we had supper, miss scot and miss combe were present, the only ladies. afterwards mr. weiss played most sweetly on the flute, mr. scot sang scotch airs, glees and madrigals followed, and it was after one o'clock when "music and painting" left the company arm in arm. i soon reached my lodgings. mr. weiss gave me a ticket to his concert, and mrs. dickie, who kindly sat up for me, gave me a ship letter. i hoped it was from my lucy, but no, it was from governor dewitt clinton; it was dated thirty days previous to my receiving it. _tuesday, th._ the fog was so dense this morning that at nine o'clock i could hardly see to write. i put the drawing of the stock pigeons in the institution, framed superbly, and it looked well, i thought, even though so dark a day. i again _stood_ for my picture, two dreadfully long hours, and i am sure i hope it may prove a good resemblance to my poor self. whilst yet in my hunting-dress, i received word that sir walter scott was in the institution and wished to see me; you may depend i was not long in measuring the distance, and reached the building quite out of breath, but to no purpose. sir walter had been compelled to go to preside at a meeting upstairs, and left an apology for me, and a request that unless too dark for him to see my work i would wait; but it very soon became quite dark, and i therefore abandoned all thought of meeting him this time. i dined at mr. lizars', and saw the first-proof impression of one of my drawings. it looked pretty well, and as i had procured one subscriber, dr. meikleham of trinidad, i felt well contented. _wednesday, th._ the day was cloudy, and sitting for my portrait has become quite an arduous piece of business. i was positively in "durance vile" for two and a half hours. just as i was finishing my dinner, mrs. f----, the cousin of mr. gregg, called; ladies having the right to command, i went immediately, and found a woman whose features had more force and character than women generally show in their lineaments. her eyes were very penetrating, and i was struck with the strength of all she said, though nothing seemed to be studied. she showed the effects of a long, well learned round of general information. she, of course, praised my work, but i scarce thought her candid. her eyes seemed to reach my very soul; i knew that at one glance she had discovered my inferiority. the group of children she had with her were all fine-looking, but not so gracefully obedient as those of the beautiful mrs. rathbone of woodcroft. she invited me to her home, near roslyn, and i shall, of course, accept this courtesy, though i felt, and feel now, that she asked me from politeness more than because she liked _me_, and i must say the more i realized her intelligence the more stupid did i become. afterwards i went to mr. lizars' to meet dr. meikleham, who wishes me to go with him to trinidad, where i shall draw, so he says, four hundred birds for him, for a publication of "birds of the west indies." on friday i go to mrs. isabella murray's, to see her and some fine engravings. i have omitted to say that the first impression of the beautiful seal sent me by mrs. rathbone was sent to my beloved wife; the seal itself is much admired, and the workmanship highly praised. mr. combe has been to see me, and says my poor skull is a greater exemplification of the evidences of the truth of his system than any he has seen, except those of one or two whose great names only are familiar to me; and positively i have been so tormented about the shape of my head that my brains are quite out of sorts. nor is this all; my eyes will have to be closed for about one hour, my face and hair oiled over, and plaster of paris poured over my nose (a greased quill in each nostril), and a bust will be made. on the other hand, an artist quite as crazy and foolishly inclined, has said that my head was a perfect vandyke's, and to establish this fact, my portrait is now growing under the pencil of the ablest artist of the science here. it is a strange-looking figure, with gun, strap, and buckles, and eyes that to me are more those of an enraged eagle than mine. yet it is to be engraved. sir walter scott saw my drawings for a few moments yesterday, and i hope to meet him to-morrow when i dine with the antiquarian society at the waterloo hotel, where an annual feast is given. my work is proceeding in very good style, and in a couple of days colored plates will be at the exhibition rooms, and at the different booksellers; but with all this bustle, and my hopes of success, my heart is heavy, for _hopes_ are not _facts_. the weather is dull, moist, and disagreeably cold at times, and just now the short duration of the daylight here is shocking; the lamps are lighted in the streets at half-past three o'clock p. m., and are yet burning at half-past seven a. m. _november ._ my portrait was finished to-day. i cannot say that i think it a very good resemblance, but it is a fine picture, and the public must judge of the rest. i had a bad headache this morning, which has now passed; to be ill far from home would be dreadful, away from my lucy, who would do more for me in a day than all the doctors in christendom in a twelvemonth. i visited the exhibition rooms for a few minutes; i would like to go there oftener, but really to be gazed at by a crowd is, of all things, most detestable to me. mr. gregg called about four, also mr. bridges and an acquaintance of the famous "alligator rider," and i was told that mr. waterton said that joseph bonaparte imitated the manners and habits of his brother napoleon; that is much more than i know or saw. but st. andrew's day and my invitation to dine with the antiquarians was not forgotten. at five i was at mr. lizars', where i found mr. moule and we proceeded to the waterloo hotel. the sitting-room was soon filled; i met many that i knew, and a few minutes after the earl of elgin[ ] made his _entrée_, i was presented to him by mr. innes of stow; he shook hands with me and spoke in a very kind and truly complimentary manner about my pencil's productions. at six we walked in couples to the dining-room; i had the arm of my good friend patrick neill, mr. lizars sat on my other side, and there was a sumptuous dinner indeed. it at first consisted entirely of scotch messes of old fashion, such as marrow-bones, codfish-heads stuffed with oatmeal and garlic, black puddings, sheep's-heads smelling of singed wool, and i do not know what else. then a _second_ dinner was served quite _à l'anglaise_. i finished with a bit of grouse. then came on the toasts. lord elgin, being president and provided with an auctioneer's mallet, brought all the company to order by rapping smartly on the table with the instrument. he then rose, and simply said: "the king! four times four!" every one rose to drink to the monarch's health, and the president saying, "ip, ip, ip," sixteen cheers were loudly given. the dukes of york, argyle, and many others had their healths drunk, then sir walter scott (who, to my great regret, was not able to be present), and so on and on, one and another, until mine was proposed by mr. skene,[ ] the first secretary of the society. whilst he was engaged in a handsome panegyric the perspiration poured from me, i thought i should faint; and i was seated in this wretched condition when everybody rose, and the earl called out: "mr. audubon." i had seen each individual when toasted, rise, and deliver a speech; that being the case, could i remain speechless like a fool? no! i summoned all my resolution, and for the first time in my life spoke to a large assembly, saying these few words: "gentlemen, my command of words in which to reply to your kindness is almost as humble as that of the birds hanging on the walls of your institution. i am truly obliged for your favors. permit me to say, may god bless you all, and may this society prosper." i felt my hands wet with perspiration. mr. lizars poured me out a glass of wine and said: "bravo! take this," which i gladly did. more toasts were given, and then a delightful old scotch song was sung by mr. innes; the refrain was "put on thy cloak about thee." then mr. mcdonald sang. wm. allan, esq.,[ ] the famous painter, told a beautiful story, then rose, and imitated the buzzing of a bumble-bee confined in a room, and followed the bee (apparently) as if flying from him, beating it down with his handkerchief; a droll performance most admirably done. at ten, the earl rose, and bid us farewell, and at half-past ten i proposed to mr. lizars to go, and we did. i was much pleased at having been a guest at this entertainment, particularly as lord elgin expressed a wish to see me again. i went to mr. lizars', where we sat chatting for an hour, when i returned to my lodgings and took myself to bed. _december ._ my portrait was hung up in the exhibition room; i prefer it to be gazed at rather than the original from which it was taken. the day was shockingly bad, wet, slippery, cold. i had to visit lord clancarty and his lady at noon, therefore i went. i met mrs. m---- and her children and the eldest daughter of mr. monroe. mrs. m---- began a long speech, telling me of her father, lord s----, and his loyalty to the stuarts; the details not only of that royal family but all the kings of england were being poured out, and i should probably be there yet, merely saying "yes" from time to time, if a lucky interruption had not come in the form of a message from lord elgin, to say he desired to see me at the institution. i soon reached that place, where i met lord elgin, in company with secretary skene and mr. hall the advocate, in the art room. mr. hall is nephew to lady douglas, and this gave me an opportunity to hand him her letter. but the best thing to relate is my breakfast with that wonderful man david bridges. i was at his house at a quarter before nine; a daughter was practising the piano, the son reading, his wife, well-dressed, was sewing. i conversed with her and looked at the pictures till the door opened and my friend came in, attired in his _robe de chambre_, shook my hand warmly, and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he began whisking and wiping chimney mantel, tables, chairs, desk, etc., to my utter annoyance, for i felt for the wife whose poor housewifery was thus exposed. after breakfast we walked to see my portrait and to criticise it, for both mr. lizars and mr. bridges are connoisseurs. in the evening i visited mr. howe, the editor of the "courant" and then to the theatre with mr. bridges to see wairner (?) perform "tyke" in "the school of reform." we met at the rainbow tavern, and soon entered the theatre, which was thinly attended; but i was delighted with the piece, and the performance of it, though we left before it was concluded to attend mr. weiss's concert in the assembly rooms in george street. the flute playing was admirable both in execution and tone; mr. bridges supped with me. it is now again one o'clock, and i am quite worn out. _december , saturday._ the weather was a sharp frost till evening, when it rained. i was busy painting all day, and did not put foot out of doors till i went to dine with dr. brown, the professor of theology.[ ] mr. bridges went with me, and told me that professor wilson had prepared a notice for "blackwood's magazine" respecting myself and my work. i think the servant who called out my name at dr. brown's must have received a most capital lesson in pronunciation, for seldom in my travels did i hear my name so clearly and well pronounced. several other guests were present, professor jameson among them, and we passed a most agreeable evening. i must not forget that sir james hall and his brother called to receive information respecting the comfort that may be expected in travelling through my dear country. _sunday, december ._ my good friends, mr. and mrs. lizars came in as usual after church; they like the otter better than the turkeys. it was nearly finished, to the great astonishment of mr. syme and mr. cameron, who came to announce that the rooms at the institution were mine till the th inst. mr. cameron looked long at the picture and said: "no man in either england or scotland could paint that picture in so short a time." now to me this is all truly wonderful; i came to this europe fearful, humble, dreading all, scarce able to hold up my head and meet the glance of the learned, and i am praised so highly! it is quite unaccountable, and i still fear it will not last; these good people certainly give me more merit than i am entitled to; it can only be a glance of astonishment or surprise operating on them because my style is new, and somewhat different from those who have preceded me. mr. bridges, who knows everybody, and goes everywhere, went with me to dine with mr. witham of yorkshire. we dined--had coffee--supped at eleven. at twelve the ladies left us; i wished to leave, but it was impossible. dr. knox said he wished to propose me as an honorary member of the wernerian society; our host said he would second the motion; my health was drunk, and i finally retired with dr. knox, leaving mr. bridges and the other gentlemen making whiskey toddy from that potent scotch liquor which as yet i cannot swallow. it was now half-past two; what hours do i keep! am i to lead this life long? if i do i must receive from my maker a new supply of strength, for even my strong constitution cannot stand it. _monday, december ._ i gave early orders to mrs. dickie to have a particularly good breakfast ready by nine o'clock because mr. witham had offered last night to come and partake of it with me; i then took to my brushes and finished my otter entirely. i had been just thirteen hours at it, and had i labored for thirteen weeks, i do not think i should have bettered it. nine o'clock--ten o'clock--and no mr. witham. i was to accompany him to dr. knox, whose lecture on anatomy he was to hear. at last he came with many apologies, having already breakfasted, and giving me but ten minutes for my morning meal. we then hurried off, the weather beautiful, but extremely cold. we ascended the stairs and opened the door of the lecture room, where were seated probably one hundred and fifty students; a beating of feet and clapping of hands took place that quite shocked me. we seated ourselves and each person who entered the room was saluted as we had been, and during the intervals a low beating was kept up resembling in its regularity the footsteps of a regiment on a flat pavement. dr. knox entered, and all was as hushed as if silence had been the principal study of all present. i am not an anatomist. unfortunately, no! i know almost less than nothing, but i was much interested in the lecture, which lasted three quarters of an hour, when the dr. took us through the anatomical museum, and his dissecting-room. the sights were extremely disagreeable, many of them shocking beyond all i ever thought could be. i was glad to leave this charnel house and breathe again the salubrious atmosphere of the streets of "fair edina." i was engaged most certainly to dine out, but could not recollect where, and was seated trying to remember, when the rev. w. j. bakewell, my wife's first cousin, and the son of robert bakewell the famous grazier and zoölogist of derbyshire, came in to see me. he asked many questions about the family in america, gave me his card and invited me to dine with him next monday week, which is my first unengaged day. i had a letter from mr. monroe at liverpool telling me i had been elected a member of the literary and philosophical societies of that city. not being able to recall where i was to dine, i was guilty of what must seem great rudeness to my intended hosts, and which is truly most careless on my part; so i went to mr. lizars, where i am always happy. the wild turkey-cock is to be the large bird of my first number, to prove the necessity of the size of the work. i am glad to be able to retire at an early hour. it seems to me an extraordinary thing, my present situation in edinburgh; looked upon with respect, receiving the attentions of the most distinguished people, and supported by men of science and learning. it is wonderful to me; am i, or is my work, deserving of all this? _tuesday, december ._ after i had put my otter in the exhibition room, i met mr. syme and with him visited mr. wm. nicholson,[ ] a portrait painter, and there saw, independent of his own work, a picture from the far-famed snyders, intended for a bear beset with dogs of all sorts. the picture had great effect, fine coloring, and still finer finishing, but the bear was no bear at all, and the dogs were so badly drawn, distorted caricatures that i am sure snyders did not draw from specimens put in real postures, in my way. i was quite disappointed, so much had i heard of this man's pictures of quadrupeds, and i thought of dr. traill, who, although well acquainted with birds scientifically, told me he had an engraving of birds where both legs of each individual were put on the same side, and that he never noticed the defect till it was pointed out to him. this made me reflect how easily man can be impressed by general effect and beauty. i returned to the institution and had the pleasure of meeting captain basil hall,[ ] of the royal navy, his wife, and lady hunter. they were extremely kind to me, and spoke of my dear friends the rathbones and greggs in terms which delighted me. the captain asked if i did not intend to exhibit by gaslight, and when i replied that the institution had granted me so much favor already that i could not take it upon myself to speak of that, said that he should do so at once, and would let me know the answer from mr. skene, the secretary. i wrote the history of my picture of the otter, and sent with a note to professor wilson, who had asked for it. _wednesday, december ._ after breakfast i called on professor jameson, and as the wild turkey is to be in my first number, proposed to give him the account of the habits of the turkey buzzard instead; he appeared anxious to have any i would give. i spoke to him about the presentation of my name to the wernerian society; he said it was desirable for me to join it as it would attach me to the country, and he would give his aid gladly. i visited captain basil hall of the royal navy; as i ascended the stairs to his parlor i heard the sweet sounds of a piano, and found mrs. hall was the performer. few women have ever attracted me more at first sight; her youth and her fair face are in unison with her manners; and her husband also received me most kindly, especially when i recalled our previous slight acquaintance. i spent here a most agreeable hour. they spoke of visiting the states, and i urged them to do so. captain hall, a man of extraordinary talents, a great traveller, and a rich man, has made the most of all, and i found him the best of company. from thence to friend neill's establishment in the old town to see at what time my memoranda must be ready for the press; to my astonishment i was told that to-morrow was my last day, and i ran home to scribble. professor monroe called on me with a friend and asked me what i would take to draw skulls, etc., for him; then mr. syme brought an engraver to consult with me on the subject of my portrait being immortalized. young gregg paid me a visit, and at last i dressed in a hurry and ran to mr. lizars' to know the way to mr. ritchie's, where i was to dine. mr. lizars sent a young man to show me the way, and i arrived at the appointed spot just one hour too late. i dined however, and dined well. miss scott was there, miss combe, mr. weiss, and several others; but when dinner was over and we ascended to the tea room, a crowd of ladies and gentlemen not before seen were in waiting to see the "woodsman from america." we had music and dancing, and i did not leave till a late hour and must now write more for the printers. i must tell thee that someone gave a false note of one pound at my exhibition rooms, and therefore _i_ paid him well to see my birds. a man who met me to-day at the door of the institution asked me if they were very well worth seeing. dost thou think i said "yes"? not i! i positively said "no!" and off he went; but a few yards off i saw him stop to talk to another man, when he returned and went in. _thursday, december ._ i wrote as hard as i could till early this morning, and finished the paper for professor jameson, who sent me a note desiring me to put down the university of edinburgh as a subscriber to my work. i was highly pleased with this, being a powerful leader. i saw in this day's paper that charles bonaparte had arrived at liverpool in the "canada" from new york. how i longed to see him! had i been sure of his remaining at liverpool a few days, i positively would have gone there by the evening mail-coach. i saw to-day two of my drawings in proof; i was well pleased with them; indeed one of them i liked better than the first that were done. my dinner was at mr. howe's, the editor of the "courant." mr. allan the artist came in at nine, when his lessons were just ended at the academy of arts,--an extremely agreeable man, full of gayety, wit, and good sense, a great traveller in russia, greece, and turkey. _friday, december , ._ men and their lives are very like the different growths of our woods; the noble magnolia, all odoriferous, has frequently the teasing nettle growing so near its large trunk as to sometimes be touched by it. edinburgh contains a walter scott, a wilson, a jameson, but it contains also many nettles of the genus mammalia, amongst which _men_ hold a very prominent station. now i have run into one of these latter gentry. to speak out at once, one of my drawings was gently purloined last evening from the rooms of the institution. so runs the fact; perhaps a few minutes before the doors closed a somebody in a large cloak paid his shilling, entered the hall and made his round, and with great caution took a drawing from the wall, rolled it up, and walked off. the porter and men in attendance missed it almost immediately, and this morning i was asked if i or mr. lizars had taken it to be engraved. i immediately told mr. lizars; we went to mr. bridges, and by his advice to the court, where captain robeson--who, by the way, was at the battle of new orleans--issued a warrant against a young man of the name of i----, deaf and dumb, who was strongly suspected. gladly would i have painted a bird for the poor fellow, and i certainly did not want him arrested, but the institution guards were greatly annoyed at the occurrence. however, i induced mr. lizars to call on the family of the youth, which is a very good one and well known in edinburgh. i returned to my lodgings and on the stairs met a beggar woman with a child in her arms, but passed her without much notice beyond pitying her in her youth and poverty, reached my door, where i saw a roll of paper; i picked it up, walked in, opened it, and found my drawing of the black-poll warbler! is not this a curious story? the thief--whoever he may be, god pardon him--had, we conceived, been terror-struck on hearing of the steps we had taken, and had resorted to this method of restoring the drawing before he was arrested. i was in time to stop the warrant, and the affair was silenced. during the afternoon i was called on twice by capt. basil hall, who was so polite as to present me with a copy of his work, two volumes, on south america, with a kind note, and an invitation to dine with him on thursday next at eight o'clock. the weather is miserable. _saturday, december ._ i wrote closely all morning from six to twelve, only half dressed, and not stopping for breakfast beyond a cup of coffee, and while thus busily employed mr. hall came in and handed me a note from lady hunter, requesting the honor of my company on saturday next to dine at six; he looked at me with surprise and doubtless thought me the strangest-looking man in the town. i had much running about with professor jameson to the printer, and with my manuscript to mr. lizars, who took it to professor brewster. we visited the museum together, called on a mr. wilson, where i saw a most beautiful dead pheasant that i longed to have to paint. then to dr. lizars' lecture on anatomy, and with him to the dissecting-rooms, but one glance was enough for me, and i hastily, and i hope forever, made my escape. the day was extremely wet, and i was glad to be in my room. i hear mr. selby is expected next monday night. _december , sunday._ my situation in edinburgh borders almost on the miraculous. with scarce one of those qualities necessary to render a man able to pass through the throng of the learned people here, i am positively looked on by all the professors and many of the principal persons here as a very extraordinary man. i cannot comprehend this in the least. indeed i have received here so much kindness and attention that i look forward with regret to my removal to glasgow, fifty miles hence, where i expect to go the last of this month. sir william jardine has been spending a few days here purposely to see me, and i am to meet mr. selby, and with these two gentlemen discuss the question of a joint publication, which may possibly be arranged. it is now a month since my work was begun by mr. lizars; the paper is of unusual size, called "double elephant," and the plates are to be finished in such superb style as to eclipse all of the same kind in existence. the price of each number, which will contain five prints, is two guineas, and all individuals have the privilege of subscribing for the whole, or any portion of it. the two plates now finished are truly beautiful. this number consists of the turkey-cock, the cuckoos on the pawpaws, and three small drawings, which in the centre of the large sheet have a fine effect, and an air of richness, that i think must ensure success, though i do not yet feel assured that all will go well. yet on the other hand, all things bear a better aspect than i expected to see for many months, if ever. i think that if my work takes in edinburgh, it will anywhere. i have strong friends here who interest themselves in me, but i must wait patiently till the first number is finished. mr. jameson, the first professor of this place, and the conductor of the "philosophical journal," gives a beautiful announcement of my work in the present number, with an account, by me, of the turkey buzzard. dr. brewster also announces it, with the introductory letter to my work, and professor wilson also, in "blackwood's magazine." these three journals print upwards of thirty thousand copies, so that my name will spread quickly enough. i am to deliver lectures on natural history at the wernerian society at each of the meetings while i am here, and professor jameson told me i should soon be made a member of all the other societies here, and that would give my work a good standing throughout europe. much as i find here to enjoy, the great round of company i am thrown in has become fatiguing to me in the extreme, nor does it agree with my early habits. i go out to dine at six, seven, or even eight o'clock in the evening, and it is often one or two when the party breaks up; then painting all day, with my immense correspondence which increases daily, makes my head feel like an immense hornet's-nest, and my body wearied beyond all calculation; yet it has to be done; those who have my interests at heart tell me i must not refuse a single invitation. _december , monday._ though i awoke feeling much depressed, my dull feelings were soon dissipated by letters from my sweet wife and sons. what joy to know them well and happy on the th and th of september. my day was a busy one, and at seven i went to mr. lizars', having engaged to go with him to the antiquarian society, where i met many of my friends, saw a gun-barrel and other things that had belonged to the spanish armada, and heard a curious and interesting account of that vast fleet read by dr. hibbert, and saw the scottish antiquities belonging to the society. _tuesday, december ._ this morning at ten i went to the house of dr. brewster, whom i found writing in a large room with several fine pictures on the walls. he received me very kindly, and in a few minutes i began reading my paper on the habits of the carrion crow, _vultur atratus_. about midway my nervousness affected my respiration; i paused a moment, and he was good enough to say it was highly interesting. i resumed, and went on to the end, much to my relief. he who has been brought up an auctioneer, or on the boards of some theatre, with all the knowledge of the proper usage of the voice, and all the _aplomb_ such a life would give, knows nothing of the feelings of bashfulness which agitated me, a man who never looked into an english grammar and who has forgotten most of what he learned in french and spanish ones--a man who has always felt awkward and shy in the presence of a stranger--a man habituated to ramble alone, with his thoughts usually bent on the beauties of nature herself--this man, _me_, to be seated opposite dr. brewster in edinburgh, reading one of my puny efforts at describing habits of birds that none but an almighty creator can ever know, was ridiculously absurd in my estimation, during all the time; besides, i also felt the penetrating looks and keen observation of the learned man before me, so that the cold sweat started from me. as i wiped my forehead on finishing my paper, a large black dog came in, caressed his master, and made a merciful diversion, and as my agitation gradually subsided i was able to talk with dr. brewster and was afterwards introduced to his lady, who put me soon at my ease, and told me i was to be introduced to sir walter scott on monday next at the royal academy. poor me!--far from sir walter i could talk to him; hundreds of times have i spoken to him quite loudly in the woods, as i looked on the silvery streamlets, or the dense swamps, or the noble ohio, or on mountains losing their peaks in gray mists. how many times have i longed for him to come to my beloved country, that he might describe, as no one else ever can, the stream, the swamp, the river, the mountain, for the sake of future ages. a century hence they will not be here as i see them, nature will have been robbed of many brilliant charms, the rivers will be tormented and turned astray from their primitive courses, the hills will be levelled with the swamps, and perhaps the swamps will have become a mound surmounted by a fortress of a thousand guns. scarce a magnolia will louisiana possess, the timid deer will exist nowhere, fish will no longer abound in the rivers, the eagle scarce ever alight, and these millions of lovely songsters be driven away or slain by man. without sir walter scott these beauties must perish unknown to the world. to the great and good man himself i can never say this, therefore he can never know it, or my feelings towards him--but if he did? what have i to say more than a world of others who all admire him, perhaps are better able to do so, because more enlightened. ah! walter scott! when i am presented to thee my head will droop, my heart will swell, my limbs will tremble, my lips will quiver, my tongue congeal; nevertheless i shall feel elevated if i am permitted to touch the hand to which the world owes so much. _december , wednesday._ i have spent the greater portion of this day in the company of mr. selby the ornithologist, who, in appearance is well formed, and in manners clever and polite, yet plain and unassuming. we were together some hours at the institution,--he was greatly pleased with my drawings,--and we then dined at mr. lizars' in company with dr. lizars, and we all talked ornithology. i wish i possessed the scientific knowledge of the subject that mr. selby does. he wished to hear my paper on the "buzzard," and after doing so, took it with him to read to sir wm. jardine, to whom he goes to-morrow, but will return on monday. later dr. brewster came to my room with the proof of the paper on the "carrion crow." he read it, and we both corrected. he told me it was a question whether or no i could be made a member of the royal academy, for only _thirty_ foreigners were allowed by law, and the number was already complete; still he hoped an exception would be made in my case. he thanked me very cordially for my paper, and said sir walter scott wished to meet me, and would do so on monday at the royal academy. mr. bridges gave me a very fine notice in the _scotsman_, and has again invited me to dine with him to meet some distinguished germans, and before that i must call at lord clancarty's to see mrs. murray. _thursday, december ._ i paid my visit to mrs. murray this forenoon, but the lady was out; so i handed my card to the slender youth who had opened the door and who stood before me looking at my hair like an ass at a fine thistle, and then made off quickly to dr. brewster. my business was before him in an instant; i wished not to be introduced to sir walter in a crowd, and he promised me not to do so. much relieved i went to the university to see dr. andrew brown, professor of rhetoric. i found him a very polished man, and after some conversation he asked me to write him a paper on the manners and customs of indians. but i must promise less writing of this kind, for i am too busy otherwise; however, immediately on my return home i sat down to write a long list of memoranda for a journey in america which i had promised captain basil hall, and i wrote till my head ached. mr. daniel lizars has invited me to dine with him on friday at three, and has procured two cats, which he wishes me to paint. now this suits me to a "t"--a long morning's work, a short meal, and some hours more of work; very different from to-day, for it was five minutes of seven when i reached captain hall's. we dined delightfully with just the company he had promised me, and i was not compelled to ask any one to take wine with me, a thing in my opinion detestable quite, a foppish art i cannot bear. i wish everybody was permitted to drink when he is thirsty, or at least only when he likes, and not when he dislikes it. the ladies having left us, the map of my native land was put on the table; i read my notes, the captain followed the course with his pencil from new york to new orleans, visiting besides niagara, st. louis, and a hundred other places. we talked of nothing but his journey in my dear country, and mrs. hall is delighted at the prospect. the captain wishes to write a book, and he spoke of it with as little concern as i should say, "i will draw a duck;" is it not surprising? he said to me, "why do not you write a little book telling what you have seen?" i cannot write at all, but if i could how could i make a _little_ book, when i have seen enough to make a dozen _large_ books? i will not write at all. _friday, december ._ i have just returned from the theatre, where i saw for the first time "the beggars' opera" and "the lord of the manor." they were both badly represented, most certainly. only one lady could sing, or act her part at all well. it was most truly a beggars' opera; i went with mr. daniel lizars and his wife and brother-in-law. they were all desirous to see a certain mr. st. clair perform; but i truly think that the gentleman in question had drank too much brandy this day, or was it of the smoky whiskey which these scots relish? i did little work this day, but walked much to refresh myself after all the hard work and constant writing i have lately done. the weather was most inviting, and as pleasant as louisiana at this season. upwards of two hundred people were at my exhibition, and to-morrow it closes. baron stokoe called whilst i was absent and left word he wished to see me, that he had heard from a friend of mine, whom i suppose to be charles bonaparte. baron stokoe was formerly a physician of eminence in the british service; when dr. o'meara was taken away from st. helena, where he was physician to napoleon, this gentleman was put in his place, but did not suit the peculiar ideas of his barbarous governor, and was also dismissed, not only from the island, but from the service, with a trifling pension. he had become acceptable to napoleon even in the short time they were together, and when he returned from that lonely rock was employed by joseph bonaparte to attend his daughters from rome to philadelphia. i met him with charles bonaparte during his stay in america. so pleased was joseph bonaparte with his conduct that he is now one of his _pensionnaires_, and his general agent in europe. _saturday, december ._ i have really done much to-day. at half-past nine i faced the inclement weather, crossed the bridge, passed the college regretting such a curious and valuable monument was quite buried among the antiquated, narrow streets, and dismal houses that surround it, then rang the bell, and was admitted to baron s----'s parlor. he was still snug asleep; so that i had enjoyed four and a half hours of life while he slept. he saw me at once in his bedroom and told me that if i wrote to the prince of musignano at london this morning, the letter would probably reach him. i returned home, wrote my letter, or rather began it, when i received several pages from my good friend mr. rathbone which quite depressed me. he feared my work would not succeed on account of the unusual size; and mrs. rathbone, senior, refused me the pleasure of naming a bird after her, on account of the publicity, she said; yet i longed to do so, for what greater compliment could i pay any lady than to give her name to one of the most exquisite creations of the almighty? the whole made me most dismal, but yet not in the least discouraged or disheartened about my work. if napoleon by perseverance and energy rose from the ranks to be an emperor, why should not audubon with perseverance and energy be able to leave the woods of america for a time and publish and sell a book?--always supposing that audubon has _some_ knowledge of his work, as napoleon had _great_ knowledge of his. no, no, i shall not cease to work for this end till old age incapacitates me. i thought long over mr. rathbone's letter, then finished mine to charles and put it in the post-office. i then purchased a pigeon, killed it, packed up my wires and hammer, and at one o'clock took these things with my "position board," called a coach, and went to the meeting of the wernerian society at the university. lady morton had joined me, hence my need for the coach. mr. skene met me at the door, where i parted from lady morton, who made me promise to visit her at dalmahoy. she is a small, handsome woman, who speaks most excellent french. mr. lizars joined me, and we all entered the room of the wernerian society of edinburgh! the room is a plain one; two tables, one fireplace, many long benches or seats, and a chair for the president were all the furniture i saw, except a stuffed sword-fish, which lay on one of the tables for examination that day. many persons were already present, and i unrolled the drawing of the buzzard for them to see. professor jameson came in, and the meeting began. my paper on the buzzard was the first thing, read by patrick neill,--not very well, as my writing was not easy reading for him. professor jameson then rose, and gave quite a eulogy upon it, my works, and lastly--myself. i then had the thanks of the society, and showed them my manner of putting up my specimens for drawing birds, etc.; this they thought uncommonly ingenious. professor jameson then offered me as an honorary member, when arose a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet, as a mark of approbation. then professor jameson desired that the usual law requiring a delay of some months between the nomination and the election be laid aside on this occasion; and again the same acclamations took place, and it was decided i should be elected at the next meeting; after which the meeting was ended, i having promised to read a paper on the habits of the alligator at the following assembly of the society. then came my dinner at lady hunter's. at precisely six i found myself at no. hope st. i was shown upstairs, and presented to lady mary clark, who knew both general wolfe and general montgomery, a most amiable english lady eighty-two years of age. many other interesting people were present, and i had the pleasure of taking mrs. basil hall to dinner, and was seated next her mother, lady hunter, and almost opposite lady mary clark. i did not feel so uncomfortable as usual; all were so kind, affable, and _truly_ well-bred. at nine the ladies left us, and captain basil hall again attacked me about america, and hundreds of questions were put to me by all, which i answered as plainly and briefly as i could. at eleven we joined the ladies, and tea and coffee were handed round; other guests had come in, card-tables were prepared, and we had some music. portfolios of prints were ready for those interested in them. i sat watching all, but listening to mrs. hall's sweet music. this bustle does not suit me, i am not fitted for it, i prefer more solitude in the woods. i left at last with young gregg, but i was the first to go, and we stepped out into the rainy sunday morning, for it was long, long past midnight, and i hastened to my lodgings to commit murder,--yes, to commit murder; for the cats mr. daniel lizars wished me to paint had been sent, and good mrs. dickie much objected to them in my rooms; her son helped me, and in two minutes the poor animals were painlessly killed. i at once put them up in fighting attitude, ready for painting when daylight appeared, which would not be long. good-night, or good-morning; it is now nearly three o'clock. _sunday, december ._ i painted all day, that is, during all the time i could see, and i was up at six this morning writing by candle-light, which i was compelled to use till nearly nine. mr. bridges called, and i dined at home on fried oysters and stewed scotch herrings, then went to mr. lizars', where i nearly fell asleep; but a cup of coffee thoroughly awakened me, and i looked at some drawings of birds, which i thought miserable, by mr. pelletier. mr. lizars walked home with me to see my cats. _monday, december ._ my painting of two cats fighting like two devils over a dead squirrel was finished at three o'clock. i had been ten hours at it, but should not call it by the dignified title of "painting," for it is too rapidly done for the more finished work i prefer; but i cannot give more time to it now, and the drawing is good. i dressed, and took the painting--so i continue to call it--to mrs. lizars', who wished to see it, and it had rained so hard all day she had not been able to come to my rooms. at five i dined with george combe, the conversation chiefly phrenology. george combe is a delightful host, and had gathered a most agreeable company. at seven mr. lizars called for me, and we went to the meeting of the royal academy. two of my plates were laid on the table. dr. brewster and mr. allan wished the academy to subscribe for my work, and the committee retired to act on this and other business. the meeting was very numerous and no doubt very learned; sir william jardine and mr. selby arrived a little before the society was seated. the door of the hall was thrown open and we all marched in and seated ourselves on most slippery hair-cloth seats. the room is rich and beautiful; it is a large oblong, the walls covered with brilliant scarlet paper in imitation of morocco. the ceiling is painted to represent oak panels. the windows are immensely large, framed to correspond with the ceiling, and with green jalousies; large chandeliers, with gas, light every corner brilliantly. the president sat in a large arm-chair lined with red morocco, and after the minutes of the last meeting had been read, professor ---- gave us a long, tedious, and labored lecture on the origin of languages, their formation, etc. it seemed a very poor mess to me, though that was probably because i did not understand it. my friend ord would have doubtless swallowed it whole, but i could make neither head nor tail of it. a few fossil bones were then exhibited, and then, thank heaven! it was over. sir william jardine brought some birds with him from jardine hall, and to-morrow will see my style of posing them for painting. as i had promised to go to supper with dr. russell, i left soon after ten, without knowing what decision the committee had reached as to subscribing to my work. i met several of the academicians at dr. russell's, as well as others whom i knew; but i am more and more surprised to find how little these men, learned as they are, know of america beyond the situation of her principal cities. we sat down to supper at eleven,--everything magnificent; but i was greatly fatigued, for i had been at work since before five this morning, either painting or writing or thinking hard. we left the table about one, and i was glad to come home and shall now soon be asleep. _tuesday, december ._ my writing takes me full two hours every morning, and soon as finished to-day, i dressed to go to breakfast with sir william jardine and mr. selby at barry's hotel. it was just nine, the morning fine and beautiful, the sun just above the line of the old town, the horizon like burnished gold, the walls of the castle white in the light and almost black in the shade. all this made a beautiful scene, and i dwelt on the power of the great creator who formed all, with a thought of all man had done and was doing, when a child, barefooted, ragged, and apparently on the verge of starvation, altered my whole train of ideas. the poor child complained of want, and, had i dared, i would have taken him to sir william jardine, and given him breakfast at the hotel; but the world is so strange i feared this might appear odd, so i gave the lad a shilling, and then bid him return with me to my lodgings. i looked over all my garments, gave him a large bundle of all that were at all worn, added five shillings, and went my way feeling as if god smiled on me through the face of the poor boy. the hotel was soon reached, and i was with my friends; they had brought ducks, hawks, and small birds for me to draw. after breakfast we all went to my room, and i showed these gentlemen how i set up my specimens, squared my paper, and soon had them both at work drawing a squirrel. they called this a lesson. it was to me like a dream, that i, merely a woodsman, should teach men so much my superiors. they worked very well indeed, although i perceived at once that mr. selby was more enthusiastic, and therefore worked faster than sir william; but he finished more closely, so that it was hard to give either the supremacy. they were delighted, especially mr. selby, who exclaimed, "i will paint all our quadrupeds for my own house." they both remained with me till we could see no more. at their request i read them my letter on the "carrion crow;" but dr. brewster had altered it so much that i was quite shocked at it, it made me quite sick. he had, beyond question, greatly improved the style (for i have none), but he had destroyed the matter. i dined at major dodd's with a complete set of military gentry, generals, colonels, captains, majors, and, to my surprise, young pattison, my companion in the coach from manchester; he was mrs. dodd's cousin. i retired rather early, for i did not care for the blustering talk of all these warriors. sir william jardine and mr. lizars came to my lodgings and announced that i was elected by universal acclamation a member of the society of arts of the city of edinburgh. _wednesday, december ._ phrenology was the order of the morning. i was at brown square, at the house of george combe by nine o'clock, and breakfasted most heartily on mutton, ham, and good coffee, after which we walked upstairs to his _sanctum sanctorum_. a beautiful silver box containing the instruments for measuring the cranium, was now opened,--the box and contents were a present from the ladies who have attended mr. combe's lectures during the past two years,--and i was seated fronting the light. dr. combe acted as secretary and george combe, thrusting his fingers under my hair, began searching for miraculous bumps. my skull was measured as minutely and accurately as i measure the bill or legs of a new bird, and all was duly noted by the scribe. then with most exquisite touch each protuberance was found as numbered by phrenologists, and also put down according to the respective size. i was astounded when they both gave me the results of their labors in writing, and agreed in saying i was a strong and constant lover, an affectionate father, had great veneration for talent, would have made a brave general, that music did not equal painting in my estimation, that i was generous, quick-tempered, forgiving, and much else which i know to be true, though how they discovered these facts is quite a puzzle to me. they asked my permission to read the notes at their next meeting, to which i consented. i then went to court to meet mr. simpson the advocate, who was to introduce me to francis jeffrey. i found mr. simpson and a hundred others in their raven gowns, and powdered, curled wigs, but mr. jeffrey was not there. after doing many things and writing much, i went this evening to mr. lizars', and with him to dr. greville, the botanist.[ ] he rarely leaves his house in winter and suffers much from asthma; i found him wearing a green silk night-cap, and we sat and talked of plants till a. m. when i entered my rooms i found mr. selby had sent me three most beautiful pheasants, and to-morrow i begin a painting of these birds attacked by a fox for the exhibition in london next march. also i had a note from the earl of morton to spend a day and night at his home at dalmahoy, saying he would send his carriage for me next wednesday, one week hence. _thursday, december ._ to-day i received letters from de witt clinton and thomas sully in answer to mine in forty-two days; it seems absolutely impossible the distance should have been covered so rapidly; yet it is so, as i see by my memorandum book. i have written already in reply to thomas sully, promising him a copy of my first number when finished, say a month hence, with the request that he forward it, in my name, to that institution which thought me unworthy to be a member. there is no malice in my heart, and i wish no return or acknowledgment from them. i am now _determined_ never to be a member of that philadelphia society, but i still think talents, no matter how humble, should be fostered in one's own country. the weather is clear, with a sharp frost. what a number of wild ducks could i shoot on a morning like this, with a little powder and plenty of shot; but i had other fish to fry. i put up a beautiful male pheasant, and outlined it on coarse gray paper to _pounce_ it in proper position on my canvas. sir wm. jardine and mr. selby were here drawing under my direction most of the day. my time is so taken up, and daylight so short, that though four hours is all i allow for sleep, i am behind-hand, and have engaged an amanuensis. i go out so much that i frequently dress three times a day, the greatest bore in the world to me; why i cannot dine in my blue coat as well as a black one, i cannot say, but so it seems. mrs. lizars came with a friend, mr. simpson, to invite me to a phrenological supper, dr. charles fox, looking very ill, and two friends of mr. selby; the whole morning passed away, no canvas came for me, and i could not have left my guests to work, if it had. i looked often at the beautiful pheasant, with longing eyes, but when the canvas came and my guests had gone, daylight went with them, so i had lost a most precious day; that is a vast deal in a man's life-glass. the supper was really a phrenological party; my head and mr. selby's were compared, and at twelve o'clock he and i went home together. i was glad to feel the frosty air and to see the stars. i think mr. selby one of those rare men that are seldom met with, and when one is found it proves how good some of our species may be. never before did i so long for a glimpse of our rich magnolia woods; i never before felt the want of a glance at our forests as i do now; could i be there but a moment, hear the mellow mock-bird, or the wood-thrush, to me always so pleasing, how happy should i be; but alas! i am far from those scenes. i seem, in a measure, to have gone back to my early days of society and fine dressing, silk stockings and pumps, and all the finery with which i made a popinjay of myself in my youth. _december , friday._ i painted a good portion to-day though it was quite dark by three of the afternoon; how i long for the fair days of summer. my room to-day was a perfect levee; it is mr. audubon here, and mr. audubon there; i only hope they will not make a conceited fool of mr. audubon at last. i received every one as politely as i could, palette and brushes in hand, and conducted each in his turn to the door. i was called from my work twenty-five times, but i was nevertheless glad to see one and all. i supped with sir william jardine, mr. lizars, and mr. moule, sir william's uncle, at barry's hotel; we talked much of fish and fishing, for we were all sportsmen. i left at midnight and found at my room a long letter from charles bonaparte. _saturday, december ._ i had to grind up my own colors this morning; i detest it, it makes me hot, fretful, moody, and i am convinced has a bad effect on my mind. however, i worked closely, but the day was shockingly short; i cannot see before half-past nine, and am forced to stop at three.... the th and th i remained closely at my work painting; on the th my drawings were all taken down and my paintings also. i wrote to the president of the royal institution and presented that society with my large painting of the "wild turkeys." i should have hesitated about offering it had i not been assured it had some value, as gally, the picture dealer, offered me a hundred guineas for it the previous day; and i was glad to return some acknowledgment of the politeness of the institution in a handsome manner. my steady work brought on a bad headache, but i rose early, took a walk of many miles, and it has gone. _december ._ my steady painting, my many thoughts, and my brief nights, bring on me now every evening a weariness that i cannot surmount on command. this is, i think, the first time in my life when, _if needed_, i could not rouse myself from sleepiness, shake myself and be ready for action in an instant; but now i cannot do that, and i have difficulty often in keeping awake as evening comes on; this evening i had to excuse myself from a gathering at lady hunter's, and came home intending to go at once to bed; but i lay down on my sofa for a moment, fell asleep, and did not wake till after midnight, when i found myself both cold and hungry. i have taken some food and now will rest, though no longer sleepy, for to-morrow i go to earl morton's, where i wish, at least, to keep awake. _dalmahoy, eight miles from edinburgh, december , wednesday._ i am now seated at a little table in the _yellow bedchamber_ at earl morton's, and will give an account of my day. after my breakfast, not anxious to begin another pheasant, i did some writing and paid some visits, returned to my lodgings and packed a box for america with various gifts, some mementos i had received, and several newspapers, when lord morton's carriage was announced. my _porte-feuille_ and valise were carried down, and i followed them and entered a large carriage lined with purple morocco; never was i in so comfortable a conveyance before; the ship that under easy sail glides slowly on an even sea has a more fatiguing motion; i might have been in a swinging hammock. we passed the castle, through charlotte square, and out on the glasgow road for eight miles, all so swiftly that my watch had barely changed the time from one hour to another when the porter pushed open the gate of dalmahoy. i now began to think of my meeting with the man who had been great chamberlain to the late queen charlotte. i did not so much mind meeting the countess, for i had become assured of her sweetness of disposition when we had met on previous occasions, but the chamberlain i could not help dreading to encounter. this, however, did not prevent the carriage from proceeding smoothly round a great circle, neither did it prevent me from seeing a large, square, half gothic building with two turrets, ornamented with great lions, and all the signs of heraldry belonging to lord morton. the carriage stopped, a man in livery opened the door, and i walked in, giving him my hat and gloves and my american stick (that, by the bye, never leaves me unless i leave it). upstairs i went and into the drawing-room. the countess rose at once and came to greet me, and then presented lord morton to me--yes, really not me to him; for the moment i was taken aback, i had expected something so different. i had formed an idea that the earl was a man of great physical strength and size; instead i saw a small, slender man, tottering on his feet, weaker than a newly hatched partridge; he welcomed me with tears in his eyes, held one of my hands and attempted speaking, which was difficult to him, the countess meanwhile rubbing his other hand. i saw at a glance his situation and begged he would be seated, after which i was introduced to the mother of the countess, lady boulcar, and i took a seat on a sofa that i thought would swallow me up, so much down swelled around me. it was a vast room, at least sixty feet long, and wide in proportion, let me say thirty feet, all hung with immense paintings on a rich purple ground; all was purple about me. the large tables were covered with books, instruments, drawing apparatus, and a telescope, with hundreds of ornaments. as i glanced at the pictures i could see the queen of england fronting mary of scotland, a chamberlain here, a duke there, and in another place a beautiful head by rembrandt. van dyke had not been forgotten; claude lorraine had some landscapes here also; while the celebrated titian gave a lustre to the whole. i rose to take a closer view, the countess explaining all to me, but conceive my surprise when, looking from the middle window, i saw at the horizon the castle and city of edinburgh, a complete miniature eight miles off, a landscape of fields, water, and country between us and it. luncheon was announced; i am sure if my friends complain that i eat but little, they must allow that i eat often; never were such lands for constant meals as england and scotland. the countess of boulcar rolled lord morton in his castored chair, i gave my arm to lady morton, we crossed a large antechamber, into a dining-room quite rich in paintings, and at present with a sumptuous repast. three gentlemen, also visitors, entered by another door,--messrs. hays, ramsay, and a young clergyman whose name i forget. after luncheon my drawings were produced, the earl was rolled into a good position for light, and my "book of nature" was unbuckled. i am not going to repeat praises again. the drawings seen, we adjourned to the drawing-room and the countess begged me to give her a lesson to-morrow, which i shall most gladly do. the countess is not exactly beautiful, but she is good-looking, with fine eyes, a brilliant complexion, and a good figure; she is a woman of superior intellect and conversation, and i should think about forty years of age; she was dressed in a rich crimson gown, and her mother in black satin. at six i re-entered the house, having taken a short walk with the gentlemen, and was shown to my room. "the yellow room," i heard the countess say to the lackey who showed me the way. my valise had been unpacked, and all was most comfortable, and truly yellow in this superb apartment. the bed was hung with yellow of some rich material, and ornamented with yellow crowns, and was big enough for four of my size; a large sofa and large arm-chairs, all yellow, the curtains, dressing-table, all indeed was yellow, intensified by the glow of a bright wood fire. my evening toilet is never a very lengthy matter,--for in my opinion it is a vile loss of time to spend as many minutes in arranging a cravat as a hangman does in tying his knot,--and i was ready long before seven, when i again gave the countess my arm, and lord morton was again rolled in, in his chair. the waiters, i think there were four, were powdered and dressed in deep red, almost maroon liveries, except the butler, who was in black, and who appeared to me to hand fresh plates continuously. after a dinner of somewhat more than an hour, the ladies retired with the earl, and i remained with the three gentlemen to talk and drink wine. the conversation was entirely of antiquities. mr. hays is a deeply learned and interesting man, besides being quite an original. at the hour of ten we joined the countess, the earl having retired, and i have been much interested looking at the signatures of the kings of old, as well as that of marie, queen of scots, and those of many other celebrated men and women, while two of the gentlemen were examining a cabinet of antique coins. the countess looked very brilliant, being attired in white satin with a crimson turban. at midnight (coffee having been served about eleven), the ladies bid us good-night, and we sat down to talk, and drink, if we wished to, madeira wine. what a life! i could not stand this ceremony daily, i long for the woods; but i hope this life will enable me to enjoy them more than ever at a future period, so i must bear it patiently. after a few moments i left the gentlemen, and came to my yellow room. _thursday, december ._ daylight came and i opened all my yellow curtains, and explored my room by daylight; and i have forgotten to tell thee that the dressing-room, with its large porcelain tub and abundance of clear water, opened from it, and was warm with crimson of the color of the countess's turban. the chimney-piece was decorated with choice shells, and above it a painting representing queen mary in her youth. the house seemed very still, but after dressing i decided to go down, for the morning was clear and the air delightful. as i entered the drawing-room i saw two housemaids busily cleaning; the younger saw me first, and i heard her say, "the american gentleman is down already," when they both vanished. i went out to look about the grounds, and in about an hour was joined by the young clergyman, and a walk was immediately undertaken. the hares started before our dogs, and passing through various woods, we came by a turn to the stables, where i saw four superbly formed abyssinian horses, with tails reaching to the earth, and the legs of one no larger than those of an elk. the riding-room was yet lighted, and the animals had been exercised that morning. the game-keeper was unkennelling his dogs; he showed me a large tame fox. then through other woods we proceeded to the manor, now the habitat of the great falconer _john anderson_ and his hawks. he had already received orders to come to the hall at eleven to show me these birds in their full dress. we visited next the hot-houses, where roses were blooming most sweetly, and then following a brook reached the hall about ten. the ladies were in the drawing-room, and the earl came in, when we went to breakfast. neither at this meal nor at luncheon are seen any waiters. the meal over, all was bustle in the drawing-room; chalks, crayons, papers, all required was before me in a few minutes, and i began to give the countess a most unnecessary lesson, for she drew much better than i did; but i taught her how to rub with cork, and prepare for water-color. the earl sat by watching us, and then asked to see my drawings again. the falconer came, and i saw the falcons ready for the chase. he held the birds on his gloved hands, with bells and hoods and crests; but the morning was not fit for a flight, so i lost that pleasure. the countess asked for my subscription book and wrote with a steel pen, "the countess of morton;" she wished to pay for the first number now, but this i declined. she promised me letters for england, with which offer i was much pleased. desiring some fresh pheasants for my work, she immediately ordered some killed for me. after luncheon i walked out to see a herd of over a hundred brown deer, that like sheep were feeding within a few hundred paces of the hall. i approached quite close to them, and saw that many had shed their horns; they scampered off when they sighted me, knowing perhaps what a hunter i was! lady morton wished me to remain longer, but as i had promised to dine with captain hall i could not do so; it was therefore decided that i should return next week to spend another night and give another lesson. my ride to edinburgh was soon over, and a letter and a book from charles bonaparte were at my lodgings. captain hall told me at dinner that he was a midshipman on board the leander when pierce was killed off new york, and when i was on my way from france, when our captain, seeing the british vessel, wore about round long island and reached new york by hell gate. there is a curious notice about me by professor wilson in "blackwood's magazine." _friday, december ._ i painted all day, and did this most happily and cheerfully, for i had received two long letters from my lucy, of october and . the evening was spent with captain hall, mr. lizars, and his brother. _saturday, december ._ so stormy a day that i have not been disturbed by visitors, nor have i been out, but painted all day. _sunday, december ._ this evening i dined at captain hall's, especially for the purpose of being introduced to francis jeffrey, the principal writer in the "edinburgh review." following the advice given me i did not take my watch, lest it should be stolen from me on my return, for i am told this is always a turbulent night in edinburgh. captain hall and his wife received me with their usual cordiality, and we were soon joined by mr. mcculloch, a writer on political economy and a plain, agreeable man. then francis jeffrey and his wife entered; he is a small (not to say tiny) being, with a woman under one arm and a hat under the other. he bowed very seriously indeed, so much so that i conceived him to be fully aware of his weight in society. his looks were shrewd, but i thought his eyes almost cunning. he talked a great deal and very well, yet i did not like him; but he may prove better than i think, for this is only my first impression. mrs. jeffrey was nervous and very much dressed. if i mistake not jeffrey was shy of me, and i of him, for he has used me very cavalierly. when i came i brought a letter of introduction to him; i called on him, and, as he was absent, left the letter and my card. when my exhibition opened i enclosed a card of admittance to him, with another of my own cards. he never came near me, and i never went near him; for if _he_ was jeffrey, _i_ was audubon, and felt quite independent of all the tribe of jeffreys in england, scotland, and ireland, put together. this evening, however, he thanked me for my card politely. at dinner he sat opposite to me and the conversation was on various topics. america, however, was hardly alluded to, as whenever captain hall tried to bring that country into our talk, mr. jeffrey most skilfully brought up something else. after coffee had been served mr. jeffrey made some inquiries about my work, and at ten i took my leave, having positively seen the little man whose fame is so great both in scotland and abroad. i walked home briskly; this was the eve of a new year, and in edinburgh they tell me it is rather a dangerous thing to be late in the streets, for many vagabonds are abroad at this time, and murders and other fearful deeds take place. to prevent these as far as possible, the watch is doubled, and an unusual quantity of gas-lights are afforded. i reached my room, sat down and outlined a pheasant, to save daylight to-morrow, and was about going to bed, when mrs. dickie came in and begged i would wait till twelve o'clock to take some toddy with her and miss campbell, my american boarding companion, to wish all a happy new year. i did so, of course, and had i sat up all night, and written, or drawn, or sat thinking by my fire, i should have done as well, for the noise kept increasing in the streets, and the confusion was such that until morning i never closed my eyes. at early morning this first day of january, , i received from captain hall three volumes of his voyages, and from the countess of morton four beautiful pheasants and a basket of rare hot-house flowers. * * * * * _edinburgh, january , , monday._[ ] a happy new year to you, my book. bless me! how fair you look this very cold day. which way, pray, are you travelling? travelling wherever chance or circumstance may lead you? well, i will take you for my companion, and we will talk together on all kinds of subjects, and you will help me to remember, for my memory is bad, very bad. i never can recollect the name of an enemy, for instance; it is only my friends whom i can remember, and to write down somewhat of their kind treatment of me is a delight i love to enjoy. _january , saturday._ ever since the first day of this month i have been most closely engaged at my painting of the "pheasants attacked by a fox." i have, however, spent another day and night at dalmahoy. i have written a long paper for the wernerian society on the habits of alligators, and am always very weary at night. _january ._ i keep at my painting closely, and for a wonder was visited by dr. bridges. i have labored hard, but my work is bad; some inward feeling tells me when it is good. no one, i think, paints in my method; i, who have never studied but by piecemeal, form my pictures according to my ways of study. for instance, i am now working on a fox; i take one neatly killed, put him up with wires, and when satisfied of the truth of the position, i take my palette and work as rapidly as possible; the same with my birds. if practicable, i finish the bird at one sitting,--often, it is true, of fourteen hours,--so that i think they are correct, both in detail and composition. _monday, th._ i rose this morning two and a half hours before day, and wrote much before breakfast. thanks to my good spirit not a soul called upon me this day, and i brushed away without losing a moment of the precious light of these short days. this evening i saw my plate of the wild turkey, and went to hear captain basil hall lecture at the royal society on the trade winds. the practical as well as theoretical knowledge of this learned man rendered this a most valuable evening to me. i was introduced to mr. perceval, the son of the king of england's secretary of state,[ ] who was shamefully and barbarously murdered some years since. _tuesday, th._ mr. hays, the dalmahoy antiquarian, called on me, and brought me a copy of bewick's "quadrupeds." at eight this evening i went to the society of arts, of which i have been elected a member. here i saw a capital air-gun, and a steam-carriage in full motion; but _i_ had to operate, and showed my manner of putting up my birds with wires, and i positively shook so that i feared i should not be able to proceed to the termination; this bashfulness is dreadful, how am i ever to overcome it? _january ._ the weather has been most strange, at times so dark that i could not see to paint, and suddenly the sun shone so brightly that i was dazzled. it rained, it blew, it snowed; we have had all seasons. a mr. buchanan from london came to see my work, and professor wilson at the same time; both liked my painting, and strangely enough the two had known each other twenty years ago. i went to the theatre to see miss foote and mr. murray; both were much applauded, and the house was crowded. i am very fond of the theatre; i think it the best of all ways to spend an evening for _délassement_. i often find myself when there laughing or crying like a child. _january ._ scarce daylight at half-past seven, but i was up and away with a coal porter and his cart into the country. i wanted some large, rough stones for my foreground; this was my reason for my excursion. i passed a small, dirty, and almost lost building, where the union between scotland and england was ratified. at one o'clock professor russell called in his carriage with mr. lizars, then we went to see a picture of the famous hondekoeter. to me the picture was destitute of _life_; the animals seemed to me to be drawn from poorly stuffed specimens, but the coloring, the finish, the manner, the effect, was most beautiful, and but for the lack of nature in the animals was a picture which commanded admiration and attention. would that i could _paint_ like hondekoeter! at eight i went to the phrenological society, and may safely say that never before was i in such company; the deepest philosophers in this city of learning were there, and george combe read an essay on the mental powers of man, as illustrated by phrenological researches, that astounded me; it lasted one and a half hours, and will remain in my mind all my life. _january ._ my painting has now arrived at the difficult point. to finish highly without destroying the general effect, or to give the general effect and care not about the finishing? i am quite puzzled. sometimes i like the picture, then a heat rises to my face and i think it a miserable daub. this is the largest piece i have ever done; as to the birds, as far as _they_ are concerned i am quite satisfied, but the ground, the foliage, the sky, the distance are dreadful. to-day i was so troubled about this that at two o'clock, when yet a good hour of daylight remained, i left it in disgust, and walked off to dr. bridges. i passed on my way the place where a man was murdered the night before last; a great multitude of people were looking at the spot, gazing like fools, for there was nothing to be seen. how is it that our sages tell us our species is much improved? if we murder now in cool blood, and in a most terrifying way, our brother, we are not a jot forward since the time of cain. _january ._ painted five hours, and at two o'clock accompanied by mr. lizars, reached the university and entered the rooms of the wernerian society with a paper on the habits of alligators in my pocket, to be read to the members and visitors present. this i read after the business of the meeting had been transacted, and, thank god, after the effort of once beginning, i went on unfalteringly to the end. in the evening i went with mr. lizars to see "as you like it." miss foote performed and also mr. murray, but the house was so crowded that i could scarce see. _january ._ could not work on my picture, for i have no white pheasant for a key-stone of light, but professor jameson called and said he would write for one for me to the duke of buccleugh. after receiving many callers i went to mr. o'neill's to have a cast taken of my head. my coat and neckcloth were taken off, my shirt collar turned down, i was told to close my eyes; mr. o'neill took a large brush and oiled my whole face, the almost liquid plaster of paris was poured over it, as i sat uprightly till the whole was covered; my nostrils only were exempt. in a few moments the plaster had acquired the needful consistency, when it was taken off by pulling it down gently. the whole operation lasted hardly five minutes; the only inconvenience felt was the weight of the material pulling downward over my sinews and flesh. on my return from the antiquarian society that evening, i found _my face_ on the table, an excellent cast. _january to sunday, st._ john syme, the artist, asked me if i did not wish to become an associate member of the _scottish artists_. i answered, "yes." i have promised to paint a picture of black cock for their exhibition, and with that view went to market, where for fifteen shillings i purchased two superb males and one female. i have been painting pretty much all day and every day. among my visitors i have had the son of smollett, the great writer, a handsome young gentleman. several noblemen came to see my pheasants, and all promised me a _white_ one. professor russell called and read me a letter from lord ----, _giving me leave_ to see the pictures at his hall, but i, poor audubon, go nowhere without an _invitation_. _january , monday._ i was painting diligently when captain hall came in, and said: "put on your coat, and come with me to sir walter scott; he wishes to see you _now_." in a moment i was ready, for i really believe my coat and hat came to me instead of my going to them. my heart trembled; i longed for the meeting, yet wished it over. had not his wondrous pen penetrated my soul with the consciousness that here was a genius from god's hand? i felt overwhelmed at the thought of meeting sir walter, the great unknown. we reached the house, and a powdered waiter was asked if sir walter were in.[ ] we were shown forward at once, and entering a very small room captain hall said: "sir walter, i have brought mr. audubon." sir walter came forward, pressed my hand warmly, and said he was "glad to have the honor of meeting me." his long, loose, silvery locks struck me; he looked like franklin at his best. he also reminded me of benjamin west; he had the great benevolence of wm. roscoe about him, and a kindness most prepossessing. i could not forbear looking at him, my eyes feasted on his countenance. i watched his movements as i would those of a celestial being; his long, heavy, white eyebrows struck me forcibly. his little room was tidy, though it partook a good deal of the character of a laboratory. he was wrapped in a quilted morning-gown of light purple silk; he had been at work writing on the "life of napoleon." he writes close lines, rather curved as they go from left to right, and puts an immense deal on very little paper. after a few minutes had elapsed he begged captain hall to ring a bell; a servant came and was asked to bid miss scott come to see mr. audubon. miss scott came, black-haired and black-dressed, not handsome but said to be highly accomplished, and she is the daughter of sir walter scott. there was much conversation. i talked little, but, believe me, i listened and observed, careful if ignorant. i cannot write more now.--i have just returned from the royal society. knowing that i was a candidate for the electorate of the society, i felt very uncomfortable and would gladly have been hunting on tawapatee bottom. [illustration: audubon. from the portrait by henry inman. now in the possession of the family.] _january , tuesday._ my first visitor was mr. hays the antiquarian, who needed my assistance, or rather my knowledge of french in the translation of a passage relating to "le droit du seigneur." dr. combe called later and begged me to go to mr. joseph, the sculptor, with him, and through a great fall of snow we went through windsor street, one of the handsomest in this beautiful city. mr. joseph was in, and i saw an uncommonly good bust of sir walter, one of lord morton, and several others. i have powerfully in my mind to give my picture of the "trapped otter" to mrs. basil hall, and, by washington, i will. no one deserves it more, and i cannot receive so many favors without trying to make some return. _january ._ my second visit to sir walter scott was much more agreeable than my first. my portfolio and its contents were matters on which i could speak substantially,[ ] and i found him so willing to level himself with me for a while that the time spent at his home was agreeable and valuable. his daughter improved in looks the moment she spoke, having both vivacity and good sense. _january ._ yesterday i had so many visitors that i was quite fatigued; my rooms were full all the time, yet i work away as if they were so many cabbages, except for a short time taken to show them a few drawings, give them chairs, and other civil attentions. in the evening i went to the theatre to see the "merchant of venice;" the night was violently stormy, the worst i remember for years. i thought of the poor sailors, what hard lives they have. _january , tuesday._ the days begin to show a valuable augmentation. i could this morning begin work at eight, and was still at my easel at four. a man may do a good deal on a painting in eight hours provided he has the power of laying the true tints at once, and does not muddy his colors or need glazing afterwards. now a query arises. did the ancient artists and colorists ever glaze their work? i sometimes think they did not, and i am inclined to think thus because their work is of great strength of standing, and extremely solid and confirmed on the canvas--a proof with me that they painted clean and bright at once, but that this _once_ they repeated, perhaps, as often as three times. glazing certainly is a beautiful way of effecting transparency, particularly over shadowy parts, but i frequently fear the coating being so thin, and that time preys on these parts more powerfully than on those unglazed, so that the work is sooner destroyed by its application than without it. i am confident sir joshua reynolds' pictures fade so much in consequence of his constant glazing. lord hay, who has only one arm, called this morning, and promised me white pheasants by saturday morning. so many people have called that i have not put a foot out to-day. _january , wednesday._ i had the delight of receiving letters from home to-day; how every word carried me to my beloved america. oh, that i could be with you and see those magnificent forests, and listen to sweet wood thrushes and the mock-birds so gay! _february ._ i have just finished a picture of black cock sunning and dusting themselves, with a view in the background of loch lomond, nine feet by six, for which i am offered two hundred guineas. it will be exhibited at the royal institute rooms next week, and the picture of the pheasants, the same size, at the scottish society of artists, of which i am now an associate member. _february ._ none of my promised white pheasants have come, but i have determined the picture shall be finished if i have to paint in a black crow instead. dr. brewster spoke to me of a camera lucida to enable me to outline birds with great rapidity. i would like such an instrument if merely to save time in hot weather, when outlining correctly is more than half the work. at eight o'clock i entered the rooms of the royal society. i opened my large sheets and laid them on the table; the astonishment of every one was great, and i saw with pleasure many eyes look from them to me. the business of the society was then done behind closed doors; but when these were opened and we were called into the great room, captain hall, taking my hand, led me to a seat immediately opposite to sir walter scott; then, lucy, i had a perfect view of that great man, and i studied from nature nature's noblest work. after a lecture on the introduction of the greek language into england, the president, sir walter, rose and we all followed his example. sir walter came to me, shook my hand cordially, and asked me how the cold weather of edinburgh agreed with me. this mark of attention was observed by other members, who looked at me as if i had been a distinguished stranger. _february ._ i have been, and am yet, greatly depressed, yet why i am so it is impossible for me to conceive, unless it be that slight vexations, trifling in themselves, are trying to me, because, alas! i am only a very, very common man. i dined to-night at professor jameson's, and as my note said "with a few friends," was surprised to find thirty besides myself. the engineer, mr. s----, was here, and many other noted men, including the famous professor leslie,[ ] an enormous mass of flesh and an extremely agreeable man, who had been in virginia many years ago, but recollects those days well. _february ._ i visited the royal institution this morning, and saw my black cocks over the first of the first-room doors. i know well that the birds are drawn as well as any birds ever have been; but what a difference exists between drawing one bird or a dozen and amalgamating them with a sky, a landscape, and a well adapted foreground. who has not felt a sense of fear while trying to combine all this? i looked at my work long, then walked round the room, when my eyes soon reached a picture by landseer, the death of a stag. i saw much in it of the style of those men who know how to handle a brush and carry a good effect; but nature was not there, although a stag, three dogs, and a highlander were introduced on the canvas. the stag had his tongue out and his mouth shut! the principal dog, a greyhound, held the deer by one ear just as if a loving friend; the young hunter has laced the deer by one horn very prettily, and in the attitude of a ballet-dancer was about to cast the noose over the head of the animal. to me, or to my friends dr. pope or mr. bourgeat such a picture is quite a farce; not so here however. many other pictures drew my attention, and still more so the different artists who came in with brushes and palettes _to tickle their pictures_. i was to read a paper at the wernerian society on the rattlesnake, but had not had time to finish it; nevertheless i went to the society rooms, which were crowded. i was sorry i was not prepared to read to those assembled that a rattlesnake rattled his tail, not to give knowledge to man of his presence, but because he never strikes without rattling, and that destitute of that appendage he cannot strike at all. the wind blows a doleful tune and i feel utterly alone. _monday, february ._ mr. lizars insisted on my going to the antiquarian society, saying it was usual for a member newly elected to be present on the first occasion possible. i went, of course, but felt very sheepish withal. we had an excellent paper by mr. hays respecting a bell found in argyle, of very ancient date. _tuesday, february ._ this was the grand, long promised, and much wished-for day of the opening of the exhibition at the rooms of the royal institution. at one o'clock i went, the doors were just opened, and in a few minutes the rooms were crowded. sir walter scott was present; he came towards me, shook my hand cordially, and pointing to landseer's picture said: "many such scenes, mr. audubon, have i witnessed in my younger days." we talked much of all about us, and i would gladly have joined him in a glass of wine, but my foolish habits prevented me, and after inquiring of his daughter's health, i left him, and shortly afterwards the rooms; for i had a great appetite, and although there were tables loaded with delicacies, and i saw the ladies particularly eating freely, i must say to my shame _i_ dared not lay my fingers on a single thing. in the evening i went to the theatre where i was much amused by "the comedy of errors," and afterwards "the green room." i admire miss neville's singing very much; and her manners also; there is none of the actress about her, but much of the lady. _tuesday, th._ a week has passed without writing here because i have done nothing else but write--many letters for captain hall, and at his request a paper to be read at the natural history society. i pitched on the "habits of the wild pigeon." i began on wednesday, and it took me until half-past three of the morning, and after a few hours' sleep i rose to correct it, which was needed, i can assure thee. were it not for the _facts_ it contains, i would not give a cent for it, nor anybody else, i dare say. i positively brought myself so much among the pigeons and in the woods of america that my ears were as if really filled with the noise of their wings; i was tired and my eyes ached. i dined at a mr. tytler's and met among the guests mr. cruden, brother of the compiler of the famous concordance. on sunday i made for the seashore, and walked eight miles; the weather was extremely cold, my ears and nose i thought would drop off, yet i went on. monday captain hall called to speak to me about my paper on pigeons; he complained that i expressed the belief that pigeons were possessed of affection and tenderest love, and that this raised the brute species to a level with man. o man! misled, self-conceited being, when wilt thou keep within the sphere of humility that, with all thy vices and wickedness about thee, should be thine. at the exhibition rooms i put up my drawing of the wild pigeons and captain hall read my paper. i was struck with the silence and attention of the audience. the president invited me to supper with him, but i was too excited, so excused myself. _february ._ i wrote again nearly all day, and in the evening went to the theatre to see "the school for grown children." _february ._ young hutchinson came about the middle of the day, and i proposed we should have an early dinner and a long walk after for the sake of exercise, that i now find much needed. we proceeded towards the village of portobello, distant three miles, the weather delightful, the shore dotted with gentlemen on horseback galloping over the sand in all directions. the sea calm and smooth, had many fishing-boats. the village is a summer resort, built handsomely of white stone, and all was quietness. from here we proceeded across country to duddingston, about a mile and a half, to see the skaters on the _lake_, a mere duck puddle; but the ice was too thin, and no skaters were there. we gradually ascended the hill called arthur's seat, and all of a sudden came in full view of the fair city. we entered in the old town and reached my lodgings by the north bridge. i was quite tired, and yet i had not walked more than ten miles. i thought this strange, and wondered if it could be the same body that travelled over one hundred and sixty-five miles in four days without a shade of fatigue. the cities do not tempt me to walk, and so i lose the habit. _february ._ to the wernerian society at two o'clock, my drawing of the mocking-bird with me. the room was completely filled, and a paper on the rhubarb of commerce was read; it was short, and then professor jameson called my name. i rose, and read as distinctly as i could my paper on rattlesnakes, a job of three quarters of an hour. having finished i was cheered by all, and the thanks of the assembly unanimously voted. my cheeks burned, and after a few questions had been put me by the president and some of the gentlemen present, i handed my manuscript to professor jameson, and was glad to be gone. young murray, the son of the london publisher, accompanied me to the scottish society exhibition, but i soon left him as so many eyes were directed to me that i was miserable. _february ._ it blew and rained tremendously, and this morning i parted from captain hall, who goes to london. his leaving edinburgh affects me considerably; he is a kind, substantial friend, and when we finally shook hands, i doubt not he knew the feeling in my heart. this evening was spent at mr. joseph's the sculptor. there were a number of guests, and music and dancing was proposed. my fame as a dancer produced, i am sure, false expectations; nevertheless i found myself on the floor with mrs. joseph, a lively, agreeable little lady, much my junior, and about my lucy's age. after much dancing, during which light refreshments were served, we sat down to supper at twelve o'clock, and we did not leave till three. _february ._ i have been reading captain hall's "voyages and travels," and going much about to rest my eyes and head; but these few days of idleness have completely sickened me, and have given me what is named the blue devils so effectually that the sooner i drive them off the better. _march ._ mr. kidd,[ ] the landscape artist, breakfasted with me, and we talked painting a long time. i admired him for his talents at so early a period of life, he being only nineteen. what would i have been now if equally gifted by nature at that age? but, sad reflection, i have been forced constantly to hammer and stammer as if in opposition to god's will, and so therefore am nothing now but poor audubon. i asked him to come to me daily to eat, drink, and give me the pleasure of his company and advice. i told him my wish was so intense to improve in the delightful art of painting that i should begin a new picture to-morrow, and took down my portfolio to look for one of my drawings to copy in oil. he had never seen my work, and his bright eyes gazed eagerly on what he saw with admiration. _march ._ mr. kidd breakfasted with me, and we painted the whole day. _march ._ i painted as constantly to-day, as it snowed and blew hard outside my walls. i thought frequently that the devils must be at the handles of Æolus' bellows, and turned the cold blasts into the scotch mists to freeze them into snow. it is full twenty years since i saw the like before. i dined at mr. ritchie's, reaching his house safely through more than two feet of snow. _march ._ the weather tolerably fair, but the snow lay deep. the mails from all quarters were stopped, and the few people that moved along the streets gave a fuller idea of winter in a northern clime than anything i have seen for many years. mr. hays called for me, and we went to breakfast with the rev. mr. newbold, immediately across the street. i was trundled into a sedan chair to church. i had never been in a sedan chair before, and i like to try, as well as see, all things on the face of this strange world of ours; but so long as i have two legs and feet below them, never will i again enter one of these machines, with their quick, short, up-and-down, swinging motion, resembling the sensations felt during the great earthquake in kentucky. but sydney smith preached. oh! what a soul there must be in the body of that great man. what sweet yet energetic thoughts, what goodness he must possess. it was a sermon _to me_. he made me smile, and he made me think deeply. he pleased me at times by painting my foibles with due care, and again i felt the color come to my cheeks as he portrayed my sins. i left the church full of veneration not only towards god, but towards the wonderful man who so beautifully illustrates his noblest handiwork. after lunch mr. hays and i took a walk towards portobello, tumbling and pitching in the deep snow. i saw sky-larks, poor things, caught in snares as easily--as men are caught. for a wonder i have done no work to-day. _march ._ as a lad i had a great aversion to anything english or scotch, and i remember when travelling with my father to rochefort in january, , i mentioned this to him, for to him, thank god, i always told all my thoughts and expressed all my ideas. how well i remember his reply: "laforest, thy blood will cool in time, and thou wilt be surprised to see how gradually prejudices are obliterated, and friendships acquired, towards those that at one time we held in contempt. thou hast not been in england; i have, and it is a fine country." what has since taken place? i have admired and esteemed many english and scotch, and therefore do i feel proud to tell thee that i am a fellow of the royal society of edinburgh. my day has been rather dull, though i painted assiduously. this evening i went to the society of arts, where beautiful experiments were shown by the inventors themselves; a steam coach moved with incomprehensible regularity. i am undetermined whether to go to glasgow on my way to dublin, or proceed overland to newcastle, liverpool, oxford, cambridge, and so on to london, but i shall move soon. _march ._ this evening i was introduced to sydney smith, the famous preacher of last sunday, and his fair daughters, and heard them sing most sweetly. i offered to show them some of my drawings and they appointed saturday at one o'clock. the wind is blowing as if intent to destroy the fair city of edinburgh. _march ._ the weather was dreadful last night and still continues so; the snow is six feet deep in some parts of the great roads, and i was told at the post office that horsemen sent with the mail to london had been obliged to abandon their horses, and proceed on foot. wrote a letter to sir walter scott requesting a letter of introduction, or shall i say _endorsement_, and his servant brought me a gratifying reply at eight of the evening. at one dr. spence came with miss neville, the delightful singer at the theatre, her mother, and miss hamilton. they sat with me some time, and i was glad to see near-by the same miss neville whom i admire so much at the play. i found her possessed of good sense and modesty, and like her much; her mother asked me to spend the evening of next saturday with them, and said her daughter would sing for me with pleasure. had a note from sydney smith; the man should study economy; he would destroy more paper in a day than franklin in a week; but all great men are more or less eccentric. walter scott writes a diminutive hand, very difficult to read, napoleon a large, scrawling one, still more difficult, and sydney smith goes up-hill all the way with large strides. _march ._ my first work this day was to send as a present to miss anne scott a copy of my first number. professor wilson called and promised to come again on monday. _march ._ i visited mr. james b. fraser,[ ] a great traveller in asia and africa, and saw there a large collection of drawings and views in water-colors of the scenery of these countries. the lecture at the wernerian society was very interesting; it was on the uses of cotton in egypt, and the origin of the name in the english language. i dined at mr. neill's; among the guests was a mr. blair, the superintendent of the botanical gardens here; he has been in different parts of america frequently. there were several other gentlemen present interested in like subjects, and we talked of little else than trees and exotic plants, birds and beasts; in fact it was a naturalists' dinner, but a much better one than naturalists generally have who study in the woods. i was obliged to leave early, as i had an engagement at miss neville's. tea was served, after which miss neville rose, and said she would open the concert. i was glad to see her simply but beautifully dressed in a plain white gown of fine muslin, with naught but her fine auburn hair loose in large curls about her neck, and a plain scarf of a light-rose color. she sang and played most sweetly; the gentlemen present were all more or less musical, and we had fine glees, duets, trios. the young lady scarcely left off singing, for no sooner was a song finished than some one asked for another; she immediately replied, "oh, yes," and in a moment the room was filled with melody. i thought she must be fatigued, and told her so, but she replied: "mr. audubon, singing is like painting; it never fatigues if one is fond of it, and i am." after a handsome supper we had more singing, and it was past two o'clock when i rose, shook hands with miss neville, bowed to the company, and made my exit. _march ._ i can scarcely believe that this day, there is in many places six feet of snow, yet with all this no invitation is ever laid aside, and last evening i went to dinner in a coach drawn by four horses. at noon to-day i went with mr. lizars to the assembly rooms, to see the fencing. about a thousand persons, all in full dress, gathered in a few minutes, and a circle being formed, eight young men came in, and went through the first principles of fencing; we had fine martial music and a succession of fencing turns till two o'clock, when the assault began between the two best scholars. five hits were required to win the prize--a fine sword--and it was presented to the conqueror, a mr. webster. at half-past six i dined at mr. hamilton's, where a numerous and agreeable party was assembled. at ten miss neville and her mother came with still others. we had dancing and singing, and here i am, quite wearied at half-past three; but i must be up early to-morrow morning. _march ._ the little i slept had a bad effect on me, for i rose cross of mind and temper. i took a long walk on the london road, returned and reached brae house, and breakfasted with the famous mrs. grant,[ ] an old lady very deaf, but very agreeable withal. her son and daughter and another lady formed our party. we talked of nothing but america; mrs. grant is positively the only person i have met here who knows anything true about my country. i promised to call again soon. this evening i dined at sir james riddell's, and i do not know when i have spent a more uncomfortable evening; the company were all too high for me, though sir james and his lady did all they could for me. the _ton_ here surpassed that at the earl of morton's; _five gentlemen_ waited on us while at table, and two of these put my cloak about my shoulders, notwithstanding all i could say to the contrary. several of these men were quite as well dressed as their master. what will that sweet lady, mrs. basil hall think of a squatter's hut in mississippi in contrast with this? no matter! whatever may be lacking, there is usually a hearty welcome. oh! my america, how dearly i love thy plain, simple manners. _march ._ i have been drawing all day, two cat-birds and some blackberries for the countess of morton, and would have finished it had i not been disturbed by visitors. mr. hays came with his son; he asked me if it would not be good policy for me to cut my hair and have a fashionable coat made before i reached london. i laughed, and he laughed, and my hair is yet as god made it. _march ._ i had long wished to visit roslyn castle and the weather being beautiful i applied to mrs. dickie for a guide, and she sent her son with me. we passed over the north bridge and followed the turnpike road, passing along the foot of the pentland hills, looking back frequently to view edinburgh under its cloud of smoke, until we had passed a small eminence that completely hid it afterwards from our sight. not an object of interest lay in our way until we suddenly turned southeast and entered the little village of roslyn. i say _little_, because not more than twenty houses are there, and these are all small except one. it is high, however, so much so that from it we looked down on the ruined castle, although the elevation of the castle above the country around is very great. on inquiry, we were assured that the chapel was the only remaining edifice worthy of attention. we walked down to it and entered an enclosure, when before us stood the remains of the once magnificent chapel of roslyn. what volumes of thoughts rushed into my mind. i, who had read of the place years before, who knew by tradition the horrors of the times subsequent to the founding of the edifice, now confronted reality. i saw the marks of sacrilegious outrage on objects silent themselves and which had been raised in adoration to god. strange that times which produced such beautiful works of art should allow the thief and the murderer to go almost unpunished. this gothic chapel is a superb relic; each stone is beautifully carved, and each differs from all the others. the ten pillars and five arches are covered with the finest fret-work, and all round are seen the pedestals that once supported the images that knox's party were wont to destroy without thought or reason. i went down some mouldering steps into the sacristy, but found only bare walls, decaying very fast; yet here a curious plant was growing, of a verdigris color. to reach the castle we went down and along a narrow ridge, on each side of which the ground went abruptly to the bottom of a narrow, steep valley, through which a small, petulant stream rushed with great rapidity over a rocky bed. this guards three sides of the promontory on which roslyn castle once was; for now only a few masses of rubbish were to be seen, and a house of modern structure occupies nearly the original site. in its day it must have been a powerful structure, but now, were it existing, cannon could destroy it in a few hours, if they were placed on the opposite hills. a large meadow lay below us, covered with bleaching linen, and the place where we stood was perfectly lonely, not even the reviving chirp of a single bird could be heard, and my heart sank low while my mind was engaged in recollections of the place. in silence we turned and left the castle and the little village, and returned by another route to busy edinburgh. the people were just coming out of church, and as i walked along i felt a tap on my shoulder and heard good mr. neill say, "where are you going at the rate of six miles an hour?" and he took me home to dine with him, after we had been to my lodgings, where i put my feet in ice cold water for ten minutes, when i felt as fresh as ever. [illustration: facsimile of entry in journal] _march , ._ this day my hair was sacrificed, and the will of god usurped by the wishes of man. as the barber clipped my locks rapidly, it reminded me of the horrible times of the french revolution when the same operation was performed upon all the victims murdered at the guillotine; my heart sank low. john j. audubon.[ ] shortly after breakfast i received a note from captain hall, and another from his brother, both filled with entreaties couched in strong terms that i should _alter my hair_ before i went to london. good god! if thy works are hated by man it must be with thy permission. i sent for a barber, and my hair was mowed off in a trice. i knew i was acting weakly, but rather than render my good friend miserable about it, i suffered the loss patiently. _march ._ i visited mr. hays at his office, and had the pleasure of seeing all the curious ancient manuscripts, letters, mandates, acts of parliament, etc., connected with the official events of scotland with england for upwards of three hundred years past. large volumes are written on parchment, by hand, and must have been works of immense labor. the volumes containing the mere transfers of landed estates filed within the last forty years amounted to almost three thousand, and the parcels of ancient papers filled many rooms in bundles and in bags of leather, covered with dust, and mouldering with age. the learned antiquarian, mr. thompson, has been at great pains to put in order all these valuable and curious documents. the edifice of the registry is immense, and the long, narrow passages proved a labyrinth to me. mr. hays' allotted portion of curiosities consists of heraldry, and i saw the greatest display of coats of arms of all sorts, emblazoned in richest style on sleek vellum and parchment. _march ._ called on miss d----, the fair american. to my surprise i saw the prints she had received the evening before quite abused and tumbled. this, however, was not my concern, and i regretted it only on her account, that so little care should be taken of a book that in fifty years will be sold at immense prices because of its rarity.[ ] the wind blew great guns all morning. finding it would be some days before my business would permit me to leave, i formed an agreement to go to see the interior of the castle, the regalia, and other curiosities of the place to-morrow. i received a valuable letter of introduction to the secretary of the home department, mr. peel, from the lord advocate of scotland, given me at the particular request of the countess of morton, a most charming lady; the earl of morton would have written himself but for the low state of his health. _march ._ after lunch the rev. wm. newbold and i proceeded to the castle; the wind blew furiously, and consequently no smoke interfered with the objects i wished to see. we passed a place called the "mound," a thrown-up mass of earth connecting now the new with the old city of edinburgh. we soon reached the gates of the castle, and i perceived plainly that i was looked upon as an officer from the continent. strange! three days ago i was taken for a priest, quick transition caused only by the clipping of my locks. we crossed the drawbridge and looked attentively at the deep and immense dried ditches below, passed through the powerful double gates, all necessary securities to such a place. we ascended continually until we reached the parapets where the king stood during his visit, bowing, i am told, to the gaping multitude below, his hat off, and proud enough, no doubt, of his _high station_. my hat was also off, but under different impulses; i was afraid that the wind would rob me of it suddenly. i did not bow to the people, but i looked with reverence and admiration on the beauties of nature and of art that surrounded me, with a pleasure seldom felt before. the ocean was rugged with agitated waves as far as the eye could reach eastwardly; not a vessel dared spread its sails, so furious was the gale. the high mountains of wild scotland now and then faintly came to our view as the swift-moving clouds passed, and suffered the sun to cast a momentary glance at them. the coast of the frith of forth exhibited handsome villas, and noblemen's seats, bringing at once before me the civilization of man, and showing how weak and insignificant we all are. my eyes followed the line of the horizon and stopped at a couple of small elevations, that i knew to be the home of the countess of morton; then i turned to the immense city below, where men looked like tiny dwarfs, and horses smaller than sheep. to the east lay the old town, and now and then came to my ears the music of a band as the squall for a moment abated. i could have remained here a whole day, but my companion called, and i followed him to the room where the regalia are kept. we each wrote our names, paid our shilling, and the large padlock was opened by a red-faced, bulky personage dressed in a fanciful scarlet cloth, hanging about him like mouldering tapestry. a small oblong room, quite dark, lay before us; it was soon lighted, however, by our conductor. a high railing of iron, also of an oblong form, surrounded a table covered with scarlet cloth, on which lay an immense sword and its scabbard, two sceptres, a large, square, scarlet cushion ornamented with golden tassels, and above all the crown of scotland. all the due explanations were cried out by our conductor, on whose face the reflection of all the red articles was so powerfully displayed just now that it looked like a large tomato, quite as glittering, but of a very different flavor, i assure thee. we looked at all till i was tired; not long did this take, for it had not one thousandth portion of the beauties i had seen from the parapet. we left the castle intending to proceed to the stone quarries three miles distant, but the wind was now so fierce, and the dust so troubled my eyes, that the jaunt was put off till another day. i paid young kidd three guineas for his picture. have just had some bread and butter and will go to bed. _march ._ young kidd breakfasted with me, and no sooner had he gone than i set to and packed up. i felt very low-spirited; the same wind keeps blowing, and i am now anxious to be off to mr. selby's newcastle, and my dear green bank. my head was so full of all manner of thoughts that i thought it was saturday, instead of friday, and at five o'clock i dressed in a great hurry and went to mr. henry witham's with all possible activity. my lucy, i was not expected till to-morrow! mr. witham was not at home, and his lady tried to induce me to remain and dine with her and her lovely daughter; but i declined, and marched home as much ashamed of my blunder as a fox who has lost his tail in a trap. once before i made a sad blunder; i promised to dine at three different houses the same day, and when it came i discovered my error, and wrote an apology to all, and went to none. _twizel house, belford--northumberland, april , ._ probably since ten years i have not been so long without recording my deeds or my thoughts; and even now i feel by no means inclined to write, and for no particular reason. from friday the d of march till the th of april my time was busily employed, copying some of my drawings, from five in the morning till seven at night. i dined out rarely, as i found the time used by this encroached too much on that needed by my ardent desire to improve myself in oil and in perspective, which i wished to study with close attention. every day brought me packets of letters of introduction, and i called here and there to make my adieux. i went often in the evening to mr. lizars'; i felt the parting with him and his wife and sister would be hard, and together we attended meetings of the different societies. the last night i went to the royal society. sir wm. hamilton[ ] read a paper _against_ phrenology, which would seem to quite destroy the theory of mr. combe. i left many things in the care of my landlady, as well as several pictures, and at six o'clock on the morning of april , left edinburgh, where i hope to go again. the weather was delightful. we passed dunbar and berwick, our road near the sea most of the time, and at half-past four, the coach stopped opposite the lodge of twizel house. i left my baggage in the care of the woman at the lodge, and proceeded through some small woods towards the house, which i saw after a few minutes,--a fine house, commanding an extensive view of the country, the german ocean, and bamborough castle. i ascended the great staircase with pleasure, for i knew that here was congeniality of feeling. hearing the family were out and would not return for two hours, i asked to be shown to the library, and told my name. the man said not a word, went off, and about ten minutes after, whilst i was reading the preface of william roscoe to his "leo x.," returned and said his master would be with me in a moment. i understood all this. mr. selby came in, in hunting-dress, and we shook hands as hunters do. he took me at once out in his grounds, where mrs. selby, his three daughters, and captain mitford his brother-in-law were all engaged transplanting trees, and i felt at home at once. when we returned to the house mr. selby conducted me to his _laboratory_, where guns, birds, etc., were everywhere. i offered to make a drawing and captain mitford went off to shoot a chaffinch. we had supper, after which the eagerness of the young ladies made me open my box of drawings; later we had music, and the evening passed delightfully. i thought much of home i assure thee, and of green bank also, and then of my first sight of thee at fatland, and went to bed thanking god for the happy moments he has granted us. the next morning i felt afraid my early habits would create some disturbance in the repose of the family, and was trying to make good my outing at five, and thought i had already done so, when to my surprise and consternation the opening of the hall door made such a noise as i doubted not must have been heard over the whole establishment; notwithstanding, i issued into the country fresh air, and heard all around me the black-birds, thrushes, and larks at their morning songs. i walked, or rather ran about, like a bird just escaped from a cage; plucked flowers, sought for nests, watched the fishes, and came back to draw. all went well; although the _shooting season_ (as the english please to call it) was long since over, we took frequent walks with guns, and a few individuals were the sufferers from my anxiety to see their bills, and eyes, and feathers; and many a mile did i race over the moors to get them. more or less company came daily to see my drawings, and i finished a drawing for mr. selby of three birds, a lapwing for mrs. selby, who drew fully as well as i did, and who is now imitating my style, and to whom i have given some lessons. also i finished a small picture in oil for the charming elder daughter louise; the others are jane and fanny. so much at home did we become that the children came about me as freely as if i had long known them; i was delighted at this, for to me to have familiar intercourse with children, the most interesting of beings, is one of my greatest enjoyments, and my time here was as happy as at green bank; i can say no more. the estate is well situated, highly ornamented, stocked with an immensity of game of the country, and trout abound in the little rivulets that tumble from rock to rock towards the northern ocean. to-morrow i leave this with captain mitford for his country seat. _mitford castle, near morpeth, northumberland, april , ._ i rose as early as usual, and not to disturb my kind friends, i marched down the staircase in my stockings, as i often do where the family are not quite such early risers; instead of opening the hall door i sat down in the study, and outlined a lapwing, in an extremely difficult position, for my friend selby, and did not go on my walk until the servants made their appearance, and then i pushed off to the garden and the woods to collect violets. i felt quite happy, the fragrance of the air seemed equal to that of the little blue flowers which i gathered. we breakfasted, and at ten o'clock i bid farewell to mrs. selby; good, amiable lady, how often she repeated her invitation to me to come and spend a goodly time with them. mr. selby and the children walked down to the lodge with the captain and me, and having reached the place too early we walked about the woods awhile. the parting moment came at last, all too soon, our baggage was put on the top of the "dart," an opposition coach, and away we rolled. my good companion captain mitford kept my spirits in better plight than they would otherwise have been, by his animated conversation about game, fishing, america, etc., and after a ride of about twelve miles we entered the small village of alnwick, commanded by the fine castle of the duke of northumberland. having to change horses and wait two hours, we took a walk, and visited the interior of that ancient mass of buildings, the whole being deserted at present, the duke absent. i saw the armory, the dungeons, the place for racking prisoners, but the grotesque figures of stone standing in all sorts of attitudes, defensive and _offensive_, all round the top of the turrets and bastions, struck me most. they looked as if about to move, or to take great leaps to the ground, to cut our throats. this castle covers five acres of ground, is elevated, and therefore in every direction are good views of the country. from it i saw the cross put up in memory of king malcolm killed by hammond. at two precisely (for in england and scotland coaches start with great punctuality) we were again _en route_. we passed over the aln river, a very pretty little streamlet, and reached felton, where we changed horses. the whole extent of country we passed this day was destitute of woods, and looked to me very barren. we saw little game; about five we arrived within two miles of morpeth, where the captain and i alighted; we walked to a pretty little vale and the ruins of the old castle lay before us, still doomed to moulder more, and walking on reached the confluence of two small, pretty streams from which originated the name of my friend's ancestors, _meetingford_. we reached the house, and having heard of his brother's indisposition, the captain and i entered quietly, and i was presented to the owner of the hall. i saw before me a thin, pale, emaciated being who begged i would go to him, as he could not rise. i shook his withered hand and received his kind welcome. during the evening i had ample opportunity to observe how clever and scientific he was, and regretted the more his frail body. he was extremely anxious to see my drawings, and he examined them more closely than i can ever remember any one to have done before, and was so well acquainted with good drawing that i felt afraid to turn them over for his inspection. after looking at probably a hundred without saying a single word, he exclaimed suddenly: "they are truly beautiful; our king ought to purchase them, they are too good to belong to a _single_ individual." we talked much on subjects of natural history, and he told me that he made it a rule that not a gun was ever fired during the breeding season on any part of his beautiful estate; he delighted to see the charming creatures enjoy life and pleasure without any annoyance. rooks, jackdaws, wood-pigeons, and starlings were flying in hundreds about the ruined castle. we sat up till after twelve, when hot water and spirits were produced, after which we said good-night; but i needed nothing to make me sleep, for in five minutes after i lay down i was--i know not where. _april ._ i am now at last where the famous bewick produced his handsome and valuable work on the birds of england. it is a dirty-looking place, this newcastle, and i do not know if it will prove at all pleasant. this morning early the captain and myself took a good ramble about mitford hall grounds; saw the rookery, the ruins of the castle, and walked some way along the little river front. we breakfasted about ten with his brother, who wished to see my drawings by daylight. afterwards my baggage was taken to morpeth, and the captain and i walked thither about twelve. our way was along a pretty little stream called the wansbeck, but the weather changed and the rain assured me that none of the persons we expected to see in the village would come, on this account, and i was not mistaken. at half-past four i mounted the coach for this place, and not an object of interest presented itself in the journey of thirteen miles. _newcastle-upon-tyne, april ._ at ten o'clock i left the inn, having had a very indifferent breakfast, served on dirty plates; therefore i would not recommend the "rose and crown," or the hostess, to any friend of mine. yet my bed was quite comfortable, and my sleep agreeably disturbed about one hour before day by some delightful music on the bugle. i often, even before this, have had a wish to be a performer on this instrument, so sure i am that our grand forests and rivers would re-echo its sonorous sounds with fine effect. i passed through many streets, but what a shabby appearance this newcastle-upon-tyne has, after a residence of nearly six months in the beautiful city of edinburgh. all seems dark and smoky, indeed i conceive myself once more in manchester. the cries of fish, milk, and vegetables, were all different, and i looked in vain for the rosy cheeks of the highlanders. i had letters to the members of the johnson family, given me by captain mitford, and therefore went to st. james square, where i delivered them, and was at once received by a tall, fine-looking young gentleman, who asked me if i had breakfasted. on being answered in the affirmative, he requested me to excuse him till he had finished his, and i sat opposite the fire thinking about the curious pilgrimage i had now before me. will the result repay the exertions? alas! it is quite impossible for me to say, but that i shall carry the plan out in all its parts is certain unless life departs, and then i must hope that our victor will fall into my place and accomplish my desires, with john's help to draw the birds, which he already does well. mr. edward johnson soon re-entered, bringing with him mr. john adamson, secretary to the literary and philosophical society of this place. i presented the letter for him from mr. selby, but i saw at once that he knew me by name. soon after he very kindly aided me to find suitable lodgings, which i did in collingwood street. we then walked to mr. bewick's, the engraver, son of the famous man, and happily met him. he is a curious-looking man; his head and shoulders are both broad, but his keen, penetrating eyes proved that nature had stamped him for some use in this world. i gave him the letters i had for him, and appointed a time to call on his father. i again suffered myself to be imposed upon when i paid my bill at the inn on removing to my lodgings, and thought of gil blas of santillane. five persons called to see my drawings this afternoon, and i received a note from mr. bewick inviting me to tea at six; so i shall see and talk with the wonderful man. i call him wonderful because i am sincerely of the opinion that his work on wood is superior to anything ever attempted in ornithology. it is now near eleven at night. robert bewick (the son) called for me about six, and we proceeded to his father's house. on our way i saw an ancient church with a remarkably beautiful _lanterne_ at top, st. nicholas' church i was told, then we passed over the tyne, on a fine strong bridge of stone, with several arches, i think six or seven. this is distant from the sea, and i must say that the tyne _here_ is the only stream i have yet seen since my landing resembling at all a river. it is about as large as bayou sara opposite the beech woods, when full. i saw some of the boats used in carrying coals down the stream; they are almost of oval shape, and are managed with long, sweeping oars, and steerers much like our flat-boats on the ohio. my companion did not talk much; he is more an acting man than a talker, and i did not dislike him for that. after ascending a long road or lane, we arrived at bewick's dwelling, and i was taken at once to where he was at work, and saw the man himself. he came to me and welcomed me with a hearty shake of the hand, and took off for a moment his half-clean cotton night-cap tinged with the smoke of the place. he is tall, stout, has a very large head, and his eyes are further apart than those of any man i remember just now. a complete englishman, full of life and energy though now seventy-four, very witty and clever, better acquainted with america than most of his countrymen, and an honor to england. having shown me the work he was at, a small vignette cut on a block of box-wood not more than three by two inches, representing a dog frightened during the night by false appearances of men formed by curious roots and branches of trees, rocks, etc., he took me upstairs and introduced me to his three daughters--all tall, and two of them with extremely fine figures; they were desirous to make my visit an agreeable one and most certainly succeeded. i met there a mr. goud, and saw from his pencil a perfect portrait of thomas bewick, a miniature, full-length, in oil, highly finished, well drawn and composed. the old gentleman and i stuck to each other; he talked of my drawings, and i of his woodcuts, till we liked each other very much. now and then he would take off his cotton cap, but the moment he became animated with the conversation the cap was on, yet almost off, for he had stuck it on as if by magic. his eyes sparkled, his face was very expressive, and i enjoyed him much more, i am sure, than he supposed. he had heard of my drawings and promised to call early to-morrow morning with his daughters and some friends. i did not forget dear john's wish to possess a copy of his work on quadrupeds, and having asked where i could procure one, he answered "here." after coffee and tea had been served, young bewick, to please me, brought a bagpipe of a new construction, called a "durham," and played simple, nice scotch and english airs with peculiar taste; the instrument sounded like a hautboy. soon after ten the company broke up, and we walked into newcastle. the streets were desolate, and their crookedness and narrowness made me feel the more the beauty of fair edinburgh. _april ._ the weather is now becoming tolerable and spring is approaching. the swallows glide past my windows, and the larks are heard across the tyne. thomas bewick, his whole family, and about a hundred others have kept me busy exhibiting drawings. mr. bewick expressed himself as perfectly astounded at the boldness of my undertaking. i am to dine with him to-morrow, mr. adamson to-day, and mr. johnson on wednesday if i do not go on to york that day. _april ._ mr. adamson called for me at church time, and we proceeded a short distance and entered st. nicholas' church. he ordered an officer to take me to what he called _the mansion house_ and i was led along the aisles to a place enclosed by an iron railing and showed a seat. in looking about me i saw a large organ over the door i had entered, and in front of this were seated many children, the lasses in white, the lads in blue. an immense painting of the lord's supper filled the end opposite the entrance, and the large gothic windows were brilliant with highly colored glass. a few minutes passed, when a long train of office bearers and the magistrates of the town, headed by the mayor, came in procession and entered _the mansion house_ also; a gentleman at my elbow rose and bowed to these and i followed his example; i discovered then that i was seated in the most honorable place. the service and sermon were long and tedious; often to myself i said, "why is not sydney smith here?" being in church i sat patiently, but i must say i thought the priest uncommonly stupid. home to luncheon and afterwards went to heath, the painter,[ ] who with his wife received me with extreme kindness. he showed me many sketches, a number of which were humorous. he likes newcastle better than edinburgh, and i would not give an hour at edinburgh, especially were i with friend lizars, his wife, and sister, for a year here. so much for difference of taste.--i have just returned from old bewick's. we had a great deal of conversation, all tending towards natural history; other guests came in as the evening fell, and politics and religion were touched upon. whilst this was going on old bewick sat silent chewing his tobacco; the son, too, remained quiet, but the eldest daughter, who sat next to me, was very interesting, and to my surprise resembles my kind friend hannah rathbone so much, that i frequently felt as if miss hannah, with her black eyes and slender figure, were beside me. i was invited to breakfast to-morrow at eight with mr. bewick to see the old gentleman at work. _april ._ i breakfasted with old bewick this morning quite _sans cérémonie_, and then the old man set to work to show me how simple it was to _cut wood_! but cutting wood as he did is no joke; he did it with as much ease as i can feather a bird; he made all his tools, which are delicate and very beautiful, and his artist shop was clean and attractive. later i went with mr. plummer, the officiating american consul at this place, to the court-rooms, and merchant coffee house, also to a new fish market, small and of a half-moon form, contiguous to the river, that i have forgotten to say is as dirty and muddy as an alligator hole. the coal boats were moving down by hundreds, with only one oar and a steerer, to each of which i saw three men. we then went to the literary and philosophical society rooms; the library is a fine, large room with many books--the museum small, but in neat order, and well supplied with british specimens. since then i have been showing my drawings to at least two hundred persons who called at my lodgings. i was especially struck with a young lady who came with her brother. i saw from my window a groom walking three fine horses to and fro, and almost immediately the lady and gentleman entered, whip in hand, and spurred like fighting-cocks; the lady, with a beaver and black silk neckerchief, came in first and alone, holding up with both hands her voluminous blue riding-habit, and with a _ton_ very unbecoming her fine eyes and sweet face. she bowed carelessly, and said: "compliments, sir;" and perceiving how much value she put on herself, i gave her the best seat in the room. for some time she sat without a word; when her brother began to put questions, however, she did also, and so fast and so searchingly that i thought them _envoies extraordinaires_ from either temminck or cuvier. mr. adamson, who sat by all the time, praised me, when they had gone, for my patience, and took me home to dine with him _en famille_. a person (a glazier, i suppose), after seeing about a hundred pictures, asked me if i did not want glass and frames for them. how i wish i was in america's dark woods, admiring god's works in all their beautiful ways. _april ._ whilst i was lying awake this morning waiting for it to get light, i presently recollected i was in newcastle-upon-tyne, and recalled the name of smollett, no mean man, by the bye, and remembered his eulogium of the extraordinary fine view he obtained when travelling on foot from london to this place, looking up the tyne from isbet hill, and i said, "if smollett admired the prospect, i can too," and leaped from my bed as a hare from his form on newly ploughed ground at the sound of the sportsman's bugle, or the sight of the swift greyhound. i ran downstairs, out-of-doors, and over the tyne, as if indeed a pack of jackals had been after me. two miles is nothing to me, and i ascended the hill where poor isbet, deluded by a wretched woman, for her sake robbed the mail, and afterwards suffered death on a gibbet; and saw--the sea! far and wide it extended; the tyne led to it, with its many boats with their coaly burdens. up the river the view was indeed enchanting; the undulating meadows sloped gently to the water's edge on either side, and the larks that sprang up before me, welcoming the sun's rise, animated my thoughts so much that i felt tears trickling down my cheeks as i gave praise to the god who gave life to all these in a day. there was a dew on the ground, the bees were gathering honey from the tiniest flowerets, and here and there the blackbird so shy sought for a fibrous root to entwine his solid nest of clay. lapwings, like butterflies of a larger size, passed wheeling and tumbling over me through the air, and had not the dense smoke from a thousand engines disturbed the peaceful harmony of nature, i might have been there still, longing for my lucy to partake of the pleasure with me. but the smoke recalled me to my work, and i turned towards newcastle. so are all transient pleasures followed by sorrows, except those emanating from the adoration of the supreme being. it was still far from breakfast time; i recrossed the tyne and ascended the east bank for a couple of miles before returning to my lodgings. the morning afterward was spent as usual. i mean, holding up drawings to the company that came in good numbers. _morning_ here is the time from ten to five, and i am told that in london it sometimes lengthens to eight of the evening as we term it. among these visitors was a mr. donkin, who remained alone with me when the others had left, and we had some conversation; he is an advocate, or, as i would call it, a chancellor. he asked me to take a bachelor's dinner with him at five; i accepted, and he then proposed we should drive out and see a house he was building two miles in the country. i again found myself among the rolling hills, and we soon reached his place. i found a beautiful, low house of stone, erected in the simplest style imaginable, but so well arranged and so convenient that i felt satisfied he was a man of taste as well as wealth. garden, grounds, all was in perfect harmony, and the distant views up and down the river, the fine woods and castle, all came in place,--not to satiate the eye, but to induce it to search for further beauties. on returning to town mr. donkin showed me the old mansion where poor charles the first was delivered up to be beheaded. he could have escaped through a conduit to the river, where a boat was waiting, but the conduit was all darkness and his heart failed him. now i should say that he had no heart, and was very unfit for a king. at mr. donkin's house i was presented to his partners, and we had a good dinner; the conversation ran much on politics, and they supported the king and mr. canning. i left early, as i had promised to take a cup of tea with old bewick. the old gentleman was seated as usual with his night-cap on, and his tobacco pouch in one hand ready to open; his countenance beamed with pleasure as i shook hands with him. "i could not bear the idea of your going off without telling you in written words what i think of your 'birds of america;' here it is in black and white, and make whatever use you may of it, if it be of use at all," he said, and put an unsealed letter in my hand. we chatted away on natural-history subjects, and he would now and then exclaim: "oh that i was young[ ] again! i would go to america. what a country it will be." "it is now, mr. bewick," i would retort, and then we went on. the young ladies enjoyed the sight and remarked that for years their father had not had such a flow of spirits. _april ._ this morning i paid a visit of farewell to mr. bewick and his family; as we parted he held my hand closely and repeated three times, "god preserve you." i looked at him in such a manner that i am sure he understood i could not speak. i walked slowly down the hilly lane, and thought of the intrinsic value of this man to the world, and compared him with sir walter scott. the latter will be forever the most eminent in station, being undoubtedly the most learned and most brilliant of the two; but thomas bewick is a son of nature. nature alone has reared him under her peaceful care, and he in gratitude of heart has copied one department of her works that must stand unrivalled forever; i say "forever" because imitators have only a share of real merit, compared with inventors, and thomas bewick is an inventor, and _the first wood-cutter in the world_! these words, "first wood-cutter" would, i dare say, raise the ire of many of our hearty squatters, who, no doubt, on hearing me express myself so strongly, would take the axe, and fell down an enormous tree whilst talking about it; but the moment i would explain to them that each of their chips would produce under his chisel a mass of beauties, the good fellows would respect him quite as much as i do. my room was filled all day with people to see my works and _me_ whom some one had said resembled in physiognomy napoleon of france. strange simile this, but i care not whom i resemble, if it be only in looks, if my heart preserves the love of the truth. _saturday, april ._ i am tired out holding up drawings, i may say, all day; but have been rewarded by an addition of five subscribers to my work. am off to-morrow to york. god bless thee, my lucy. _york, sunday, april , ._ left newcastle at eight; the weather cold and disagreeable, still i preferred a seat on top to view the country. passed through durham, a pretty little town with a handsome castle and cathedral, planted on an elevated peninsula formed by a turn of the river wear, and may be seen for many miles. it is a rolling country, and the river wound about among the hills; we crossed it three times on stone bridges. darlington, where we changed horses, is a neat, small place, supported by a set of very industrious quakers; much table linen is manufactured here. as we approached york the woods became richer and handsomer, and trees were dispersed all over the country; it looked once more like england, and the hedges reminded me of those about "green bank." they were larger and less trimmed than in scotland. i saw york minster six or seven miles before reaching the town, that is entered by old gates. the streets are disgustingly crooked and narrow, and crossed like the burrows of a rabbit-warren. i was put down at the black swan. though the coach was full, not a word had been spoken except an occasional oath at the weather, which was indeed very cold; and i, with all the other passengers, went at once to the fires. anxious to find lodgings _not_ at the black swan, i went to rev. wm. turner, son of a gentleman i had met at newcastle, for information. his father had prepared him for my visit at my request, and i was soon installed at mrs. pulleyn's in blake street. my present landlady's weight, in ratio with that of her husband, is as one pound avoirdupois to one ounce apothecary! she looks like a round of beef, he like a farthing candle. oh that i were in louisiana, strolling about the woods, looking in the gigantic poplars for new birds and new flowers! _april , monday._ the weather looked more like approaching winter than spring; indeed snow fell at short intervals, and it rained, and was extremely cold and misty. notwithstanding the disagreeable temperature, i have walked a good deal. i delivered my letters as early as propriety would allow, but found no one in; at least i was told so, for beyond that i cannot say with any degree of accuracy i fear. the rev. mr. turner called with the curator of the museum, to whom i showed some drawings. after my dinner, eaten _solus_, i went out again; the minster is undoubtedly the finest piece of ancient architecture i have seen since i was in france, if my recollection serves me. i walked round and round it for a long time, examining its height, form, composition, and details, until my neck ached. the details are wonderful indeed,--all cut of the same stone that forms the mass outwardly. leaving it and going without caring about my course, i found myself in front of an ancient castle,[ ] standing on a mound, covered with dark ivy, fissured by time and menacing its neighborhood with an appearance of all tumbling down at no remote period. i turned east and came to a pretty little stream called the ouse, over which i threw several pebbles by way of exercise. on the west bank i found a fine walk, planted with the only trees of size i have seen in this country; it extended about half a mile. looking up the stream a bridge of fine stone is seen, and on the opposite shores many steam mills were in operation. i followed down this mighty stream till the road gave out, and, the grass being very wet and the rain falling heavily, i returned to my rooms. york is much cleaner than newcastle, and i remarked more quakers; but alas! how far both these towns are below fair edinburgh. the houses here are low, covered with tiles, and sombre-looking. no birds have i seen except jackdaws and rooks. to my surprise my host waited upon me at supper; when he enters my room i think of scroggins' ghost. i have spent my evening reading "blackwood's magazine." _april ._ how doleful has this day been to me! it pleased to rain, and to snow, and to blow cold all day. i called on mr. phillips, the curator of the museum, and he assured me that the society was too poor to purchase my work. i spent the evening by invitation at the rev. wm. turner's in company with four other gentlemen. politics and emancipation were the chief topics of conversation. how much more good would the english do by revising their own intricate laws, and improving the condition of their poor, than by troubling themselves and their distant friends with what does not concern them. i feel nearly determined to push off to-morrow, and yet it would not do; i may be wrong, and to-morrow may be fairer to me in every way; but this "hope deferred" is a very fatiguing science to study. i could never make up my mind to live and die in england whilst the sweet-scented jessamine and the magnolias flourish so purely in my native land, and the air vibrates with the songs of the sweet birds. _april ._ i went out of the house pretty soon this morning; it was cold and blowing a strong breeze. i pushed towards the river with an idea of following it downwards two hours by my watch, but as i walked along i saw a large flock of starlings, at a time when i thought all birds were paired, and watched their motions for some time, and thereby drew the following conclusion, namely: that the bird commonly called the meadow lark with us is more nearly related to the starling of this country than to any other bird. i was particularly surprised that a low note, resembling the noise made by a wheel not well greased, was precisely the same in both, that the style of their walk and gait was also precisely alike, and that in _short_ flights the movement of the wings had the same tremulous action before they alighted. later i had visitors to see my pictures, possibly fifty or more. it has rained and snowed to-day, and i feel as dull as a martin surprised by the weather. it will be strange if york gives me no subscribers, when i had eight at newcastle. mr. p---- called and told me it would be well for me to call personally on the nobility and gentry in the neighborhood and take some drawings with me. i thanked him, but told him that my standing in society did not admit of such conduct, and that although there were lords in england, we of american blood think ourselves their equals. he laughed, and said i was not as much of a frenchman as i looked. _april ._ i have just returned from a long walk out of town, on the road toward newcastle. the evening was calm, and the sunset clear. at such an hour how often have i walked with my lucy along the banks of the schuylkill, perkiomen creek, the ohio river, or through the fragrant woods of louisiana; how often have we stopped short to admire the works of the creator; how often have we been delighted at hearing the musical notes of the timid wood thrush, that appeared to give her farewell melody to the disappearing day! we have looked at the glittering fire-fly, heard the whip-poor-will, and seen the vigilant owl preparing to search field and forest! here the scene was not quite so pleasing, though its charms brought youth and happiness to my recollection. one or two warblers perched on the eglantine, almost blooming, and gave their little powers full vent. the shrill notes of thrushes (not ours) came from afar, and many rooks with loaded bills were making fast their way towards the nests that contained their nearly half-grown offspring. the cattle were treading heavily towards their pens, and the sheep gathered to the lee of each protecting hedge. to-day have i had a great number of visitors, and three subscribers. _april ._ a long walk early, and then many visitors, mr. vernon[ ] among them, who subscribed for my work. all sorts of people come. if matthews the comic were now and then to present himself at my levees, how he would act the scenes over. i am quite worn out; i think sometimes my poor arms will give up their functions before i secure five hundred subscribers. _saturday, th._ during my early walk along the ouse i saw a large butterfly, quite new to me, and attempted to procure it with a stroke of my cane; but as i whirled it round, off went the scabbard into the river, more than half across, and i stood with a naked small sword as if waiting for a duel. i would have swam out for it, but that there were other pedestrians; so a man in a boat brought it to me for sixpence. i have had a great deal of company, and five subscribers. mr. wright took me all over the minster, and also on the roof. we had a good spy-glass, and i had an astonishing view of the spacious vales that surround the tile-covered city of york. i could easily follow the old walls of defence. it made me giddy to look directly down, as a great height is always unpleasant to me. now i have packed up, paid an enormous bill to my landlady. _leeds, sunday, april ._ the town of leeds is much superior to anything i have seen since edinburgh, and i have been walking till i feel quite exhausted. i breakfasted in york at five this morning; the coach did not start till six, so i took my refreshing walk along the ouse. the weather was extremely pleasant; i rode outside, but the scenery was little varied, almost uniformly level, well cultivated, but poor as to soil. i saw some "game" as every bird is called here. i was amused to see the great interest which was excited by a covey of partridges. what would be said to a gang of wild turkeys,--several hundred trotting along a sand-bar of the upper mississippi? i reached leeds at half-past nine, distant from york, i believe, twenty-six miles. i found lodgings at once at albion street, and then started with my letters. _april ._ were i to conclude from first appearances as to the amount of success i may expect here, compared with york, by the difference of attention paid me at both places so soon after my arrival, i should certainly expect much more here; for no sooner was breakfast over than mr. atkinson called, to be followed by mr. george and many others, among them a good ornithologist,[ ]--not a _closet naturalist_, but a real true-blue, who goes out at night and watches owls and night-jars and water-fowl to some purpose, and who knows more about these things than any other man i have met in europe. this evening i took a long walk by a small stream, and as soon as out of sight undressed and took a dive smack across the creek; the water was so extremely cold that i performed the same feat back again and dressed in a hurry; my flesh was already quite purple. following the stream i found some gentlemen catching minnows with as much anxiety as if large trout, playing the little things with beautiful lines and wheels. parallel to this stream is a canal; the adjacent country is rolling, with a number of fine country-seats. i wish i had some one to go to in the evenings like friend lizars. _may , ._ this is the day on which last year i left my lucy and my boys with intention to sail for europe. how uncertain my hopes at that time were as to the final results of my voyage,--about to leave a country where most of my life had been spent devoted to the study of nature, to enter one wholly unknown to me, without a friend, nay, not an acquaintance in it. until i reached edinburgh i despaired of success; the publication of a work of enormous expense, and the length of time it must necessarily take; to accomplish the whole has been sufficient to keep my spirits low, i assure thee. now i feel like beginning a new year. my work is about to be known, i have made a number of valuable and kind friends, i have been received by men of science on friendly terms, and now i have a hope of success if i continue to be honest, industrious, and consistent. my pecuniary means are slender, but i hope to keep afloat, for my tastes are simple; if only i can succeed in rendering thee and our sons happy, not a moment of sorrow or discomfort shall i regret. _may ._ mr. george called very early, and said that his colleague, the secretary of the literary and philosophical society, would call and subscribe, and he has done so. i think i must tell thee how every one stares when they read on the first engraving that i present for their inspection this name: "the bonaparte fly-catcher"--the very bird i was anxious to name the "rathbone fly-catcher" in honor of my excellent friend "lady" rathbone, but who refused to accept this little mark of my gratitude. i afterwards meant to call it after thee, but did not, because the world is so strangely composed just now that i feared it would be thought childish; so i concluded to call it after my friend charles bonaparte. every one is struck by the name, so explanations take place, and the good people of england will know him as a great naturalist, and my friend. i intend to name, one after another, every one of my new birds, either for some naturalist deserving this honor, or through a wish to return my thanks for kindness rendered me. many persons have called, quite a large party at one time, led by lady b----. i am sorry to say i find it generally more difficult to please this class of persons than others, and i feel in consequence more reserved in their presence, i can scarcely say why. i walked out this evening to see kirkstall abbey, or better say the ruins of that ancient edifice. it is about three miles out of leeds and is worthy the attention of every traveller. it is situated on the banks of the little river ayre, the same i bathed in, and is extremely romantic in its appearance, covered with ivy, and having sizable trees about and amongst its walls. the entrance is defended by a board on which is painted: "whoever enters these ruins, or damages them in the least, will be prosecuted with all the rigor of the law." i did not transgress, and soon became very cautious of my steps, for immediately after, a second board assured every one that spring-guns and steel-traps are about the gardens. however, no entreaty having been expressed to prevent me from sketching the whole, i did so on the back of one of my cards for thee. from that spot i heard a cuckoo cry, for i do not, like the english, call it singing. i attempted to approach the bird, but in vain; i believe i might be more successful in holding a large alligator by the tail. many people speak in raptures of the sweet voice of the cuckoo, and the same people tell me in cold blood that we have no birds that can sing in america. i wish they had a chance to judge of the powers of the mock-bird, the red thrush, the cat-bird, the oriole, the indigo bunting, and even the whip-poor-will. what would they say of a half-million of robins about to take their departure for the north, making our woods fairly tremble with melodious harmony? but these pleasures are not to be enjoyed in manufacturing towns like leeds and manchester; neither can any one praise a bird who sings by tuition, like a pupil of mozart, as a few linnets and starlings do, and that no doubt are here taken as the foundation stone of the singing powers allotted to european birds generally. well, is not this a long digression for thee? i dare say thou art fatigued enough at it, and so am i. _may ._ until two o'clock this day i had only one visitor, mr. john marshall, a member of parliament to whom i had a letter; he told me he knew nothing at all about birds, but most generously subscribed, because, he told me, it was such a work as every one ought to possess, and to encourage enterprise. this evening i dined with the messrs. davy, my old friends of mill grove; the father, who for many months has not left his bed-chamber, desired to see me. we had not met since , but he looked as fresh as when i last saw him, and is undoubtedly the handsomest and noblest-looking man i have ever seen in my life, excepting the marquis de dupont de nemours. i have at leeds only five subscribers,--poor indeed compared with the little town of york. _may ._ i breakfasted with young mr. davy, who after conducted me to mr. marshall's mills. we crossed the ayre in a ferry boat for a half-penny each, and on the west bank stood the great works. the first thing to see was the great engine, horse-power, a stupendous structure, and so beautiful in all its parts that no one could, i conceive, stand and look at it without praising the ingenuity of man. twenty-five hundred persons of all ages and both sexes are here, yet nothing is heard but the _burr_ of machinery. all is wonderfully arranged; a good head indeed must be at the commander's post in such a vast establishment. _manchester, may ._ my journey was uneventful and through the rain. i reached mr. bentley's soon after noon, and we were both glad to meet. _may ._ the rooms of the natural history society were offered to me, to show my work, but hearing accidentally that the royal institution of manchester was holding an exhibition at the messrs. jackson's and thinking that place better suited to me, i saw these gentlemen and was soon installed there. i have had five subscribers. i searched for lodgings everywhere, but in vain, and was debating what to do, when dr. harlan's friend, mr. e. w. sergeant, met me, and insisted on my spending my time under his roof. he would take no refusal, so i accepted. how much kindness do i meet with everywhere. i have had much running about and calling on different people, and at ten o'clock this evening was still at mr. bentley's, not knowing where mr. sergeant resided. mr. surr was so kind as to come with me in search of the gentleman; we found him at home and he gave me his groom to go for my portmanteau. of course i returned to mr. bentley's again, and he returned with me to see me safely lodged. mr. sergeant insisted on his coming in; we had coffee, and sat some time conversing; it is now past two of the morning. _may ._ i saw mr. gregg and the fair helen of quarry bank this morning; they met me with great friendship. i have saved myself much trouble here by exhibiting no drawings, only the numbers of my work now ready. mr. sergeant has purchased my drawing of the doves for twenty pounds. _may , sunday._ my time has been so completely occupied during each day procuring subscribers, and all my evenings at the house of one or another of my friends and acquaintances that my hours have been late, and i have bidden thee good-night without writing it down.[ ] manchester has most certainly retrieved its character, for i have had eighteen subscribers in _one week_, which is more than anywhere else. _liverpool, monday, may ._ i breakfasted with my good friend bentley, and left in his care my box containing drawings, to be forwarded by the "caravan,"--the name given to covered coaches. i cannot tell how extremely kind mr. sergeant has been to me during all my stay. he exerted himself to procure subscribers as if the work had been his own, and made my time at his house as pleasant as i could desire. i was seated on top of the coach at ten o'clock, and at three was put down safely at dale st. i went immediately to the institution, where i found mr. munro. i did not like to go to green bank abruptly, therefore shall spend the night where i am, but sent word to the rathbones i was here. i have called on dr. chorley and family, and dr. traill; found all well and as kind as ever. at six mr. wm. rathbone came, and gave me good tidings of the whole family; i wait impatiently for the morrow, to see friends all so dear. _may , saturday night._ i leave this to-morrow morning for london, a little anxious to go there, as i have oftentimes desired to be in sight of st. paul's church. i have not been able to write because i felt great pleasure in letting my good friends the rathbones know what i had done since i was here last; so the book has been in the fair hands of my friend hannah. "lady" rathbone and miss hannah are not at green bank, but at woodcroft, and there we met. while i waited in the library how different were my thoughts from those i felt on my first entry into liverpool. as i thought, i watched the well-shaped wagtails peaceably searching for food within a few paces of me. the door opened, and i met my good, kind friends, the same as ever, full of friendship, benevolence, and candor. i spent most of the morning with them, and left my book, as i said, with them. _thy_ book, i should have written, for it is solely for thee. i was driven into liverpool by mr. rd. rathbone, with his mother and miss hannah, and met mr. chorley by appointment, that we might make the respectful visits i owed. first to edward roscoe's, but saw only his charming wife; then to william roscoe's. the venerable man had just returned from a walk, and in an instant our hands were locked. he asked me many questions about my publication, praised the engraving and the coloring. he has much changed. time's violent influence has rendered his cheeks less rosy, his eye-brows more bushy, forced his fine eyes more deeply in their sockets, made his frame more bent, his walk weaker; but his voice had all its purity, his language all its brilliancy. i then went to the botanic gardens, where all was rich and beautiful; the season allows it. then to alexander gordon's and mr. hodgson. both out, and no card in my pocket. _just like me._ i found the intelligent swiss[ ] in his office, and his "ah, audubon! comment va?" was all-sufficient. i left him to go to mr. rathbone's, where i have spent every night except the last. as usual i escaped every morning at four for my walk and to write letters. i have not done much work since here, but i have enjoyed that which i have long desired, the society of my dear friends the rathbones. whilst writing this, i have often wished i could take in the whole at one glance, as i do a picture; this need has frequently made me think that writing a good book must be much more difficult than to paint a good picture. to my great joy, mr. bentley is going with me to london. with a heavy heart i said adieu to these dear rathbones, and will proceed to london lower in spirits than i was in edinburgh the first three days. _shrewsbury, may ._ after all sorts of difficulties with the coach, which left one hour and a half late, we reached chester at eleven, and were detained an hour. i therefore took a walk under the piazzas that go all through the town. where a street has to be crossed we went down some steps, crossed the street and re-ascended a few steps again. overhead are placed the second stories of every house; the whole was very new and singular to me. these avenues are clean, but rather low; my hat touched the top once or twice, and i want an inch and a half of six feet, english measure. at last we proceeded; passed the village of wrexham, and shortly after through another village, much smaller, but the sweetest, neatest, and pleasantest spot i have seen in all my travels in this country. it was composed of small, detached cottages of simple appearance, divided by gardens sufficiently large for each house, supplied with many kinds of vegetables and fruit trees, luxuriant with bloom, while round the doors and windows, and clambering over the roofs, were creeping plants and vines covered with flowers of different hues. at one spot were small beds of variegated tulips, the sweet-scented lilies at another, the hedges looked snowy white, and everywhere, in gentle curves, abundance of honeysuckle. this village was on a gentle declivity from which, far over the mersey, rising grounds were seen, and the ascending smoke of liverpool also. i could not learn the name of this little terrestrial paradise, and must wait for a map to tell me. we dined in a hurry at eastham, and after passing through a narrow slip in wales, and seeing what i would thus far call the most improved and handsomest part of england, we are now at shrewsbury for five hours. mr. bentley and i had some bread and butter and pushed out to see the town, and soon found ourselves on the bank of the severn, a pretty little stream about sixty yards wide. many men and boys were doing what they called fishing, but i only saw two sprats in one of the boys' hats during the whole walk. some one told us that up the river we should find a place called the "quarry" with beautiful trees, and there we proceeded. about a dozen men, too awkward to be sailors, were rowing a long, narrow, pleasure boat, while one in the bow gave us fine music with the bugle. we soon reached the quarry, and found ourselves under tall, luxuriant, handsome trees forming broad avenues, following the course of the river, extremely agreeable. indeed, being a woodsman, i think this the finest sight i have seen in england. how the severn winds round the town, in the form of a horse-shoe! about the centre of this horse-shoe, another avenue, still more beautiful, is planted, going gently up the hill towards the town. i enjoyed this walk more than i can tell thee, and when i thought of the disappointment i had felt at five hours delay at shrewsbury, and the pleasure i now felt, i repeated for the more than one thousand and first time, "certainly all is for the best in this world, except our own sins." london, _may , _. i should begin this page perhaps with a great exclamation mark, and express much pleasure, but i have not the wish to do either; to me london is just like the mouth of an immense monster, guarded by millions of sharp-edged teeth, from which if i escape unhurt it must be called a miracle. i have many times longed to see london, and now i am here i feel a desire beyond words to be in my beloved woods. the latter part of the journey i spent closely wrapped in both coat and cloak, for we left shrewsbury at ten, and the night was chilly; my companions were mr. bentley and two italians, one of whom continually sang, and very well, while the other wished for daylight. in this way we continued till two of the morning, and it was then cold. from twelve until four i was so sleepy i could scarcely hold up my head, and i suffered much for the want of my regular allowance of sleep which i take between these hours; it is not much, yet i greatly missed it. we breakfasted at birmingham at five, where the worst stuff bearing the name of coffee that i ever tasted was brought to us. i say _tasted_, for i could do no more. the country constantly improved in beauty; on we drove through stratford-on-avon, woodstock, and oxford. a cleaner and more interesting city i never saw; three thousand students are here at present. it was ten o'clock when we entered the turnpike gate that is designated as the line of demarcation of london, but for many miles i thought the road forming a town of itself. we followed oxford street its whole length, and then turning about a few times came to the bull and mouth tavern where we stay the night. _may ._ although two full days have been spent in london, not a word have i written; my heart would not bear me up sufficiently. monday was positively a day of gloom to me. after breakfast mr. bentley took a walk with me through the _city_, he leading, and i following as if an ox to the slaughter. finally we looked for and found lodgings, at great russell street, to which we at once removed, and again i issued forth, noting nothing but the great dome of st. paul's cathedral. i delivered several letters and was well received by all at home. with mr. children[ ] i went in the evening to the linnæan society and exhibited my first number. all those present pronounced my work _unrivalled_, and warmly wished me success. _sunday, may ._ ever since my last date i have been delivering letters, and attending the meetings of different societies. one evening was spent at the royal society, where, as in all royal societies, i heard a dull, heavy lecture. yesterday my first call was on sir thos. lawrence; it was half-past eight, as i was assured later would not do. i gave my name, and in a moment the servant returned and led me to him. i was a little surprised to see him dressed as for the whole day. he rose and shook hands with me the moment i pronounced my good friend sully's name. while he read deliberately the two letters i had brought, i examined his face; it did not exhibit the look of genius that one is always expecting to meet with in a man of his superior talents; he looked pale and pensive. he wished much to see my drawings, and appointed thursday at eight of the morning, when, knowing the value of his time, i retired. several persons came to see me or my drawings, among others mr. gallatin, the american minister. i went to covent garden theatre with mr. bentley in the evening, as he had an admittance ticket. the theatre opens at six, and orders are not good after seven. i saw madame vestris; she sings middling well, but not so well in my opinion as miss neville in edinburgh. the four brothers hermann i admired very much; their voices sounded like four flutes. _may ._ i have been about indeed like a post-boy, taking letters everywhere. in the evening i went to the athenæum at the corner of waterloo place, expecting to meet sir thomas lawrence and other gentlemen; but i was assured that about eleven or half-past was the fashionable time for these gentlemen to assemble; so i returned to my rooms, being worn out; for i must have walked forty miles on these hard pavements, from idol lane to grosvenor square, and across in many different directions, all equally far apart. _tuesday, may ._ at twelve o'clock i proceeded with some of my drawings to see mr. gallatin, our _envoy extraordinaire_. he has the ease and charm of manner of a perfect gentleman, and addressed me in french. seated by his side we soon travelled (in conversation) to america; he detests the english, and spoke in no measured terms of london as the most disagreeable place in europe. while we were talking mrs. and miss gallatin came in, and the topic was changed, and my drawings were exhibited. the ladies knew every plant, and mr. gallatin nearly every bird. i found at home that new suit of clothes that my friend basil hall insisted upon my procuring. i looked this remarkable black dress well over, put it on, and thus attired like a mournful raven, went to dine at mr. children's. on my return i found a note from lord stanley, asking me to put his name down as a subscriber; this pleased me exceedingly, as i consider lord stanley a man eminently versed in _true_ and _real_ ornithological pursuits. of course my spirits are better; how little does alter a man. a trifle raises him, a little later another casts him down. mr. bentley has come in and tells me three poor fellows were hanged at newgate this morning for stealing sheep. my god! how awful are the laws of this land, to take a human life for the theft of a miserable sheep. _june ._ as i was walking, not caring whither, i suddenly met a face well known to me; i stopped and warmly greeted young kidd of edinburgh. his surprise was as great as mine, for he did not know where i had been since i left edinburgh. together we visited the exhibition at the british gallery. ah! what good work is here, but most of the painters of these beautiful pictures are no longer on this earth, and who is there to keep up their standing? i was invited to dine with sir robert inglis,[ ] and took a seat in the clapham coach to reach his place. the epsom races are in full activity about sixteen miles distant, and innumerable coaches, men on horseback, barouches, foot passengers, filled the road, all classes from the _beau monde_ to the beggar intent on seeing men run the chance of breaking their necks on horses going like the wind, as well as losing or gaining pence, shillings, or guineas by the thousand. clapham is distant from london five miles, and sir robert invited me to see the grounds while he dressed, as he came in almost as i did. how different from noisy london! i opened a door and found myself on a circular lawn so beautifully ornamented that i was tempted to exclaim, "how beautiful are thy works, o god!" i walked through avenues of foreign trees and shrubs, amongst which were tulip-trees, larches, and cypresses from america. many birds were here, some searching for food, while others gave vent to their happy feelings in harmonious concerts. the house itself was covered with vines, the front a mass of blooming roses exuberant with perfume. what a delightful feast i had in this peaceful spot! at dinner there were several other guests, among them the widow of sir thomas stanford raffles, governor of java, a most superior woman, and her conversation with dr. horsfield was deeply interesting. the doctor is a great zoölogist, and has published a fine work on the birds of java. it was a true _family_ dinner, and therefore i enjoyed it; sir robert is at the head of the business of the carnatic association of india. _friday, june ._ at half-past seven i reached sir thomas lawrence, and found him writing letters. he received me kindly, and at once examined some of my drawings, repeating frequently, "very clever, indeed!" from such a man these words mean much. during breakfast, which was simple enough and _sans cérémonie_, he asked me many questions about america and about my work. after leaving him i met mr. vigors[ ] by appointment, who said everything possible to encourage me, and told me i would be elected as a foreign member to the athenæum. young kidd called to see me, and i asked him to come and paint in my room; his youth, simplicity, and cleverness have attached me to him very much. _june ._ is it not strange i should suffer whole weeks to pass without writing down what happens to me? but i have felt too dull, and too harassed. on thursday morning i received a long letter from mr. lizars, informing me that his colorers had struck work, and everything was at a stand-still; he requested me to try to find some persons here who would engage in that portion of the business, and he would do his best to bring all right again. this was quite a shock to my nerves; but i had an appointment at lord spencer's and another with mr. ponton; my thoughts cooled, i concluded to keep my appointments. on my return i found a note from mr. vigors telling me charles bonaparte was in town. i walked as quickly as possible to his lodgings, but he was absent. i wrote him a note and came back to my lodgings, and very shortly was told that the prince of musignano was below, and in a moment i held him by the hand. we were pleased to meet each other on this distant shore. his fine head was not altered, his mustachios, his bearded chin, his keen eye, all was the same. he wished to see my drawings, and i, for the first time since i had been in london, had pleasure in showing them. charles at once subscribed, and i felt really proud of this. other gentlemen came in, but the moment the whole were gone my thoughts returned to the colorers, and my steps carried me in search of some; and this for three days i have been doing. i have been about the suburbs and dirtier parts of london, and more misery and poverty cannot exist without absolute starvation. by chance i entered a print shop, and the owner gave me the name of a man to whom i went, and who has engaged to color more cheaply than it is done in edinburgh, and young kidd has taken a letter from me to mr. lizars telling him to send me twenty-five copies. _june ._ i paid a visit to sir thomas lawrence this morning and after waiting a short time in his gallery he came to me and invited me into his painting-room. i had a fair opportunity of looking at some of his unfinished work. the piece before me represented a fat man sitting in an arm-chair, not only correctly outlined but beautifully sketched in black chalk, somewhat in the style of raphael's cartoons. i cannot well conceive the advantage of all that trouble, as sir thomas paints in opaque color, and not as i do on asphaltum grounds, as i believe the old masters did, showing a glaze under the colors, instead of over, which i am convinced can be but of short duration. his colors were ground, and his enormous palette of white wood well set; a large table was literally covered with all sorts of brushes, and the room filled with unfinished pictures, some of which appeared of very old standing. i now had the pleasure of seeing this great artist at work, which i had long desired to do. i went five times to see mr. havell the colorer, but he was out of town. i am full of anxiety and greatly depressed. oh! how sick i am of london. _june ._ i received a letter from mr. lizars that was far from allaying my troubles. i was so struck with the tenure of it that i cannot help thinking now that he does not wish to continue my work. i have painted a great deal to-day and called on charles bonaparte. _june ._ i was particularly invited to dine at the royal society club with charles bonaparte, but great dinners always so frighten me that i gave over the thought and dined peaceably at home. this evening charles b. called with some gentlemen, among whom were messrs. vigors, children, featherstonehaugh, and lord clifton. my portfolios were opened before this set of learned men, and they saw many birds they had not dreamed of. charles offered to name them for me, and i felt happy that he should; and with a pencil he actually christened upwards of fifty, urging me to publish them at once in manuscript at the zoölogical society. these gentlemen dropped off one by one, leaving only charles and mr. vigors. oh that _our_ knowledge could be arranged into a solid mass. i am sure the best ornithological publication of the birds of my beloved country might then be published. i cannot tell you how surprised i was when at charles's lodgings to hear his man-servant call him "your royal highness." i thought this ridiculous in the extreme, and i cannot conceive how good charles can bear it; though probably he _does_ bear it because he _is_ good charles. i have no painting to do to-morrow morning, or going to bed at two would not do. i was up at three this morning, and finished the third picture since in london. _june ._ i have no longer the wish to write my days. i am quite wearied of everything in london; my work does not proceed, and i am dispirited. _july ._ i am yet so completely out of spirits that in vain have i several times opened my book, held the pen, and tried to write. i am too dull, too mournful. i have finished another picture of rabbits; that is all my consolation. i wish i was out of london. _leeds, september , ._ i arrived here this day, just five months since my first visit to the place, but it is three long months since i tarnished one of thy cheeks, my dear book. i am quite ashamed of it, for i have had several incidents well deserving to be related even in my poor humble style,--a style much resembling my _paintings in oil_. now, nevertheless, i will in as quick a manner as possible recapitulate the principal facts. _first._ i removed the publication of my work from edinburgh to london, from the hands of mr. lizars into those of robert havell, no. newman st., because the difficulty of finding colorers made it come too slowly, and also because i have it done better and cheaper in london. i have painted much and visited little; i hate as much as ever large companies. i have removed to great russell st., number , to a mrs. w----'s, an intelligent widow, with eleven children, and but little cash. _second._ the king!! my dear book! it was presented to him by sir walter waller, bart., k.c.h., at the request of my most excellent friend j. p. children, of the british museum. his majesty was pleased to call it fine, permitted me to publish it under his particular patronage, approbation, and protection, became a subscriber on the usual terms, not as kings generally do, but as a gentleman, and my friends all spoke as if a mountain of sovereigns had dropped in an ample purse at once, and for me. the duchess of clarence also subscribed. i attended to my business closely, but my agents neither attended to it nor to my orders to them; and at last, nearly at bay for means to carry on so heavy a business, i decided to make a sortie for the purpose of collecting my dues, and to augment my subscribers, and for that reason left london this day fortnight past for manchester, where i was received by my friends _à bras ouverts_. i lived and lodged at friend sergeant's, collected all my money, had an accession of nine subscribers, found a box of beautiful bird-skins sent bentley by my dear boy johnny,[ ] left in good spirits, and here i am at leeds. on my journey hither in the coach a young sportsman going from london to york was my companion; he was about to join a shooting expedition, and had two dogs with him in a basket on top of the coach. we spoke of game, fish, and such topics, and presently he said a work on ornithology was being published in london by an american (he told me later he took me for a frenchman) named audubon, and spoke of my industry and regretted he had not seen them, as his sisters had, and spoke in raptures of them, etc. i could not of course permit this, so told him my name, when he at once shook hands, and our conversation continued even more easily than before. i am in the same lodgings as formerly. my landlady was talking with a meagre-looking child, who told a sad story of want, which my good landlady confirmed. i never saw greater pleasure than sparkled in that child's face as i gave her a few pieces of silver for her mother. i never thought it necessary to be rich to help those poorer than ourselves; i have considered it a duty to god, and to grow poorer in so doing is a blessing to me. i told the good landlady to send for one of the child's brothers, who was out of work, to do my errands for me. i took a walk and listened with pleasure to the song of the little robin. _october ._ i called at the philosophical hall and at the public library, but i am again told that leeds, though wealthy, has no taste; nevertheless i hope to establish an agency here. _october ._ i visited the museum of a mr. calvert, a man who, like myself, by dint of industry and perseverance is now the possessor of the finest collection i have seen in england, with the exception of the one at manchester. i received a letter from mr. havell only one day old; wonderful activity this in the post-office department. i have been reading good bewick's book on quadrupeds. i have had no success in leeds, and to-morrow go to york. _york, october ._ mr. barclay, my agent here, i soon found had done almost nothing, had not indeed delivered all the numbers. i urged him to do better, and went to the society hall, where i discovered that the number which had been forwarded from edinburgh after i had left there was miserably poor, scarcely colored at all. i felt quite ashamed of it, although mr. wright thought it good; but i sent it at once to havell for proper treatment. being then too late to pay calls, i borrowed a volume of gil blas, and have been reading. _october ._ no luck to-day, my lucy. i am, one would think, generally either before or after the proper time. i am told that last week, when the duke of wellington was here, would have been the better moment. i shall have the same song given me at newcastle, i dare foretell. i have again been reading gil blas; how replete i always find it of good lessons. _october ._ i walked this morning with mr. barclay to the house of mr. f----, a mile out of town, to ascertain if he had received the first number. his house was expressly built for queen elizabeth, who, i was told, had never been in it after all. it resembles an old church, the whole front being of long, narrow windows. the inside is composed of large rooms, highly decorated with ancient pictures of the f---- family. the gardens are also of ancient appearance; there were many box-trees cut in the shape of hats, men, birds, etc. i was assured the number had not been received, so i suppose it never was sent. on our return mr. barclay showed me an asylum built by quakers for the benefit of lunatics, and so contrived with gardens, pleasure-grounds, and such other modes of recreation, that in consequence of these pleasant means of occupying themselves many had recovered. _october ._ how often i thought during these visits of poor alexander wilson. when travelling as i am now, to procure subscribers, he as well as myself was received with rude coldness, and sometimes with that arrogance which belongs to _parvenus_. _october ._ it has been pouring down rain during all last night and this day, and looks as if it would not cease for some time; it is, however, not such distressing falls of water as we have in louisiana; it carries not every object off with the storm; the banks of the rivers do not fall in with a crash, with hundreds of acres of forest along with them; no houses are seen floating on the streams with cattle, game, and the productions of the husbandman. no, it rains as if nature was in a state of despondency, and i am myself very dull; i have been reading stanley's tales. _october ._ this morning i walked along the ouse; the water had risen several feet and was quite muddy. i had the pleasure of seeing a little green kingfisher perched close to me for a few minutes; but the instant his quick eye espied me, he dashed off with a shrill squeak, almost touching the water. i must say i longed for a gun to have stopped him, as i never saw one fresh killed. i saw several men fishing with a large scoop-net, fixed to a long pole. the fisherman laid the net gently on the water, and with a good degree of force he sank it, meantime drawing it along the bottom and grassy banks towards him. the fish, intent on feeding, attempted to escape, and threw themselves into the net and were hauled ashore. this was the first successful way of fishing i have seen in england. some pikes of eight or ten pounds were taken, and i saw some eels. i have set my heart on having two hundred subscribers on my list by the first of may next; should i succeed i shall feel well satisfied, and able to have thee and our sons all together. thou seest that castles are still building on hopeful foundations only; but he who does not try anything cannot obtain his ends. _october , newcastle._ yesterday i took the coach and found myself here after an uneventful journey, the route being now known to me, and came to my former lodgings, where i was followed almost immediately by the marquis of londonderry, who subscribed at once. then i called upon friend adamson, who before i could speak invited me to dinner every day that i was disengaged. he advised me to have a notice in the papers of my being here for a few days, so i went to the _tyne mercury_; saw mr. donkin, who invited me to breakfast with him to-morrow at half-past seven, _quite my hour_. _october ._ during the day mr. wingate, an excellent practical ornithologist, came to see me, and we had much conversation which interested me greatly. also came the mayor, who invited me to dine with him publicly to-morrow. i have written to mr. selby to ask if he will be at alnwick castle on friday, as if so i will meet him there, and try to find some subscribers. several persons have asked me how i came to part with mr. lizars, and i have felt glad to be able to say that it was at his desire, and that we continue esteemed friends. i have been pleased to find since i left london that all my friends cry against my painting in oil; it proves to me the real taste of good william rathbone; and _now i do declare to thee_ that i will not spoil any more canvas, but will draw in my usual old, untaught way, which is what god meant me to do. _october ._ this morning i paid a visit to old mr. bewick. i found the good gentleman as usual at work, but he looked much better, as the cotton cap had been discarded for a fur one. he was in good spirits, and we met like old friends. i could not spend as much time with him as i wished, but saw sufficient of him and his family to assure me they were well and happy. i met mr. adamson, who went with me to dine at the mansion house. we were received in a large room, furnished in the ancient style, panelled with oak all round, and very sombre. the company all arrived, we marched in couples to dinner and i was seated in the centre, the mayor at one end, the high sheriff at the other; we were seventy-two in number. as my bad luck would have it, i was toasted by john clayton, esq.; he made a speech, and _i_, poor fellow, was obliged to return the compliment, which i did, as usual, most awkwardly and covered with perspiration. miserable stupidity that never will leave me! i had thousands of questions to answer about the poor aborigines. it was dark when i left, and at my room was a kind letter from mr. selby, inviting me to meet him at alnwick to-morrow. _twizel house, october ._ i arrived at alnwick about eleven this morning, found the little village quite in a bustle, and mr. selby at the court. how glad i was to see him again i cannot say, but i well know i feel the pleasure yet, though twelve hours have elapsed. again i dined with the gentlemen of the bar, fourteen in number. a great ball takes place at alnwick castle this night, but mr. selby took me in his carriage and has brought me to his family,--a thousand times more agreeable to me than the motley crowd at the castle. i met again captain mitford, most cordial to me always. to my regret many of my subscribers have not yet received the third number, not even mr. selby. i cannot understand this apparent neglect on the part of mr. lizars. _sunday, october ._ although it has been raining and blowing without mercy these two days, i have spent my time most agreeably. the sweet children showed their first attachment to me and scarce left me a moment during their pleasure hours, which were too short for us all. mrs. selby, who was away with her sick brother, returned yesterday. confined to the house, reading, music, and painting were our means of enjoyment. both this morning and this evening mr. selby read prayers and a chapter in the bible to the whole household, the storm being so severe. _edinburgh, october ._ i am again in the beautiful edinburgh; i reached it this afternoon, cold, uncomfortable and in low spirits. early as it was when i left this morning, mrs. selby and her lovely daughter came down to bid me good-bye, and whenever i leave those who show me such pure kindness, and especially such friends as these dear selbys, it is an absolute pain to me. i think that as i grow older my attachment augments for those who are kind to me; perhaps not a day passes without i visit in thought those mansions where i have been so hospitably received, the inmates of which i recall with every sense of gratitude; the family rathbone _always first_, the selbys next, in london mr. children, in manchester the greggs and bentleys and my good friend sergeant, at leeds mr. atkinson, at newcastle dear old bewick, mr. adamson, and the rev. william turner, and here mr. lizars and too many to enumerate; but i must go back to liverpool to name john chorley, to whom i feel warmly attached. it rained during my whole journey here, and i saw the german ocean agitated, foaming and dark in the distance, scarce able to discern the line of the horizon. i send my expense account to you, to give victor an idea of what the cost of travelling will be when he takes charge of my business here, whilst i am procuring fresh specimens. i intend next year _positively_ to keep a cash account with myself and others,--a thing i have never yet done. _october ._ i visited mr. lizars first, and found him as usual at work; he received me well, and asked me to dine with him. i was sorry to learn that lady ellen hall and w. h. williams had withdrawn their subscriptions, therefore i must exert myself the more. _october ._ anxious to appoint an agent at edinburgh, i sent for mr. daniel lizars the bookseller, and made him an offer which he has accepted; i urged him not to lose a moment in forwarding the numbers which have been lying too long at his brother's; many small matters have had to be arranged, but now i believe all is settled. w. h. lizars saw the plates of no. , and admired them much; called his workmen, and observed to them that the london artists beat them completely. he brought his account, and i paid him in full. i think he regrets now that he decided to give my work up; for i was glad to hear him say that should i think well to intrust him with a portion of it, it should be done as well as havell's, and the plates delivered in london at the same price. if he can fall twenty-seven pounds in the engraving of each number, and do them in superior style to his previous work, how enormous must his profits have been; good lesson this for me in the time to come, though i must remember havell is more reasonable owing to what has passed between us in our business arrangements, and the fact that he owes so much to me.[ ] i have made many calls, and been kindly welcomed at every house. the "courant" and the "scotchman" have honored me with fine encomiums on my work. the weather has been intolerable, raining and blowing constantly. _october ._ mr. w. h. lizars has dampened my spirits a good deal by assuring me that i would not find scotland so ready at paying for my work as england, and positively advised me not to seek for more subscribers either here or at glasgow. it is true, six of my first subscribers have abandoned the work without even giving me a reason; so my mind has wavered. if i go to glasgow and can only obtain names that in the course of a few months will be withdrawn, i am only increasing expenses and losing time, and of neither time nor money have i too great a portion; but when i know that glasgow is a place of wealth, and has many persons of culture, i decide to go. _november ._ i called on professor wilson this morning who welcomed me heartily, and offered to write something about my work in the journal called "blackwood"; he made me many questions, and asked me to breakfast to-morrow, and promised me some letters for glasgow. _november ._ my breakfast with the professor was very agreeable. his fine daughter headed the table, and two sons were with us. the more i look at wilson, the more i admire his originalities,--a man not equal to walter scott, it is true, but in many ways nearly approaching him; as free from the detestable stiffness of ceremonies as i am when i can help myself, no cravat, no waistcoat, but a fine _frill_ of his own profuse beard, his hair flowing uncontrolled, and in his speech dashing at once at the object in view, without circumlocution; with a countenance beaming with intellect, and eyes that would do justice to the _bird of washington_. he gives me comfort, by being comfortable himself. with such a man i can talk for a whole day, and could listen for years. _glasgow, november ._ at eleven i entered the coach for my ride of forty-two miles; three inside passengers besides myself made the entire journey without having uttered a single word; we all sat like so many owls of different species, as if afraid of one another, and on the _qui vive_, all as dull as the barren country i travelled this day. a few glimpses of dwarflike yellow pines here and there seemed to wish to break the dreariness of this portion of scotland, but the attempt was in vain, and i sat watching the crows that flew under the dark sky foretelling winter's approach. i arrived here too late to see any portion of the town, for when the coach stopped at the black bull all was so dark that i could only see it was a fine, broad, long street. _november ._ i am off to-morrow morning, and perhaps forever will say farewell to glasgow. i have been here _four_ days and have obtained _one_ subscriber. one subscriber in a city of , souls, rich, handsome, and with much learning. think of pupils in one college! glasgow is a fine city; the clyde here is a small stream crossed by three bridges. the shipping consists of about a hundred brigs and schooners, but i counted eighteen steam vessels, black, ugly things as ever were built. one sees few carriages, but _thousands_ of carts. _edinburgh, november ._ in my old lodgings, after a journey back from the "city of the west" which was agreeable enough, all the passengers being men of intellect and social natures. _november ._ i left this house this morning an hour and a half before day, and pushed off for the sea-shore, or, as it is called, the firth. it was calm and rather cold, but i enjoyed it, and reached professor jameson's a few minutes before breakfast. i was introduced to the "lord of ireland," an extremely intelligent person and an enthusiast in zoölogical researches; he had been a great traveller, and his conversation was highly interesting. in the afternoon i went to the summit of arthur's seat; the day was then beautiful and the extensive view cheered my spirits. _november ._ i arrived at twizel hall at half-past four in good time for dinner, having travelled nearly eighty miles quite alone in the coach, not the mail but the union. sir william jardine met me on my arrival. i assure thee it was a pleasure to spend two days here,--shooting while it was fair, and painting when rainy. in one of our walks i shot five pheasants, one hare, one rabbit, and one partridge; gladly would i remain here longer, but my work demands me elsewhere. _york, november ._ i have been here five hours. the day was so-so, and my companions in the coach of the dormouse order; eighty-two miles and no conversation is to me dreadful. moreover our coachman, having in sight a coach called the "high-flyer," felt impelled to keep up with that vehicle, and so lashed the horses that we kept close to it all the while. each time we changed our animals i saw them quite exhausted, panting for breath, and covered with sweat and the traces of the blows they had received; i assure thee my heart ached. how such conduct agrees with the ideas of humanity i constantly hear discussed, i leave thee to judge. _liverpool, november ._ i left manchester at four this morning; it was very dark, and bitterly cold, but my travelling companions were pleasant, so the time passed quite quickly. at a small village about half-way here, three felons and a man to guard them mounted the coach, bound to botany bay. these poor wretches were chained to each other by the legs, had scarcely a rag on, and those they wore so dirty that no one could have helped feeling deep pity for them, case-hardened in vice as they seemed to be. they had some money, for they drank ale and brandy wherever we stopped. though cold, the sun rose in full splendor, but the fickleness of the weather in this country is wonderful; before reaching here it snowed, rained, and cleared up again. on arriving i went at once to the royal institution, and on my way met william rathbone. i recognized him as far as i could see him, but could easily have passed him unnoticed, as, shivering with cold, i was wrapped up in my large cloak. glad was i to hold him once more by the hand, and to learn that all my friends were well. i have seen dr. traill, john chorley, and many others who were kind to me when i was here before. all welcomed me warmly. _november ._ this day after my arrival i rose before day and walked to green bank. when half my walk was over the sun rose, and my pleasure increased every moment that brought me nearer to my generous, kind "lady" rathbone and her sweet daughter, miss hannah. when i reached the house all was yet silent within, and i rambled over the frozen grass, watching the birds that are always about the place, enjoying full peace and security. the same black thrush (probably) that i have often heard before was perched on a fir-tree announcing the beauty of this winter morning in his melodious voice; the little robins flitted about, making towards those windows that they knew would soon be opened to them. how i admired every portion of the work of god. i entered the hot-house and breathed the fragrance of each flower, yet sighed at the sight of some that i recognized as offsprings of my own beloved country. henry chorley, who had been spending the night at green bank, now espied me from his window, so i went in and soon was greeted by that best of friends, "lady" rathbone. after breakfast miss hannah opened the window and her favorite little robin hopped about the carpet, quite at home. i returned to liverpool with mr. b.[ ] rathbone, who, much against my wishes, for i can do better work now, bought my picture of the hawk pouncing on the partridges. _november ._ visited dr. traill, to consult with him on the best method of procuring subscribers, and we have decided that i am to call on mr. w. w. currie, the president of the athenæum, to obtain his leave to show my work in the reading room, and for me to have notes of invitation printed and sent to each member, for them to come and inspect the work as far as it goes. i called on mr. currie and obtained his permission at once, so the matter is _en train_. _november ._ i have spent the day at woodcroft with richard rathbone. mrs. rathbone wishes me to teach her how to paint in oils. now is it not too bad that i cannot do so, for want of talent? my birds in _water-colors_ have plumage and soft colors, but in oils--alas! i walked into town with richard rathbone, who rode his horse. i kept by his side all the way, the horse walking. i do not rely as much on my activity as i did twenty years ago, but i still think i could kill any horse in england in twenty days, taking the travel over rough and level grounds. this might be looked upon as a boast by many, but, i am quite satisfied, not by those who have seen me travel at the rate of five miles an hour all day. once indeed i recollect going from louisville to shippingport[ ] in fourteen minutes, with as much ease as if i had been on skates. _december ._ this morning i made sketches of all the parts of the platypus[ ] for william gregg, who is to deliver a lecture on this curious animal. to-day and yesterday have been rainy, dismal indeed; very dismal is an english december. i am working very hard, writing constantly. the greater part of this day was spent at the athenæum; many visitors, but no subscribers. _december ._ again at the library and had one subscriber. a letter from charles bonaparte tells me he has decided not to reside in america, but in florence; this i much regret. i have been reading the "travels of the marquis de chastelleux" in our country, which contains very valuable and correct facts. _december ._ mr. atherton, a relation of friend selby's, took breakfast with me, and then conducted me to see a very beautiful bird (alive) of the eagle kind, from the andes.[ ] it is quite unknown to me; about the size of the bird of washington, much shorter in the wings, larger talons and longer claws, with erected feathers, in the form of a fan, on the head. the bill was dark blue, the crest yellow, upper part of the body dark brown; so was the whole head and neck, as well as the tail and vent, but the belly and breast were white. i soon perceived that it was a young bird; its cry resembled that of almost every eagle, but was weaker in sound on account of its tender age, not exceeding ten months. were i to give it a name, it would be the _imperial crowned eagle_. it was fed on raw beef, and occasionally a live fowl by way of a treat to the by-standers, who, it seems, always take much pleasure in cruel acts. the moment i saw this magnificent bird i wished to own it, to send it as a present to the zoölogical gardens. i received a letter from thomas sully telling me in the most frank and generous manner that i have been severely handled in one of the philadelphia newspapers. the editor calls all i said in my papers read before the different societies in edinburgh "a pack of lies." friend sully is most heartily indignant, but with me my motto is: "_le temps découvrira la vérité._" it is, however, hard that a poor man like me, who has been so devotedly intent on bringing forth facts of curious force, should be brought before the world as a liar by a man who doubtless knows little of the inhabitants of the forests on the schuylkill, much less of those elsewhere. it is both unjust and ungenerous, but i forgive him. i shall keep up a good heart, trust to my god, attend to my work with industry and care, and in time outlive these trifles. _december ._ i went this evening to hear the tyrolese singers, three brothers and their sister. they were all dressed in the costume of their country, but when they sang i saw no more; i know not how to express my feelings. i was in an instant transported into some wild glen from which arose high mountain crags, which threw back the melodious echoes. the wild, clear, harmonious music so entered into my being that for a time i was not sure that what i heard was a reality. imagine the warbling of strong-throated thrushes, united with the bugle-horn, a flute, and a hautboy, in full unison. i could have listened all night. _december , ._ by the advice of our consul, mr. maury, i have presented a copy of my work to the president of the united states, and another to the house of congress through henry clay. _december , sunday._ i went to the service at my favorite church, the one at the blind asylum; the anthems were so exquisitely sung that i felt, as all persons ought to do when at church, full of fervent devotion. _december ._ it was with great regret that i found my friend wm. roscoe very unwell. this noble man has had a paralytic attack; his mind is fully sensible of the decay of his body, and he meets this painful trial with patience and almost contentment. this only can be the case with those who in their past life have been upright and virtuous. i finished drawing a little wren for my good friend hannah, as well as artificial light would allow. _december ._ i have done nothing to-day; i have had that sort of laziness that occasionally feeds upon my senses unawares; it is a kind of constitutional disease with me from time to time, as if to give my body necessary rest, and enable me to recommence with fresh vigor and alacrity whatever undertaking i have in hand. when it has passed, however, i always reproach myself that i have lost a day. i went to the theatre with john chorley to see "the hypocrite;" it is stolen from molière's famous "tartuffe,"--cut and sliced to suit the english market. i finished my evening by reading the life of tasso. _december ._ the whole town appears to be engaged in purchasing eatables for to-morrow. i saw some people carrying large nosegays of holly ornamented with flowers in imitation of white roses, carnations, and others, cut out of turnips and carrots; but i heard not a single gun fire, no fireworks going on anywhere,--a very different time to what we have in louisiana. i spent my evening with dr. rutter looking at his valuable collection of prints of the men of the revolution. poor charette,[ ] whom i saw shot on the place de viarme at nantes, was peculiarly good, as were general moreau, napoleon, when consul, and many others; and dr. rutter knew their lives well. _december ._ at midnight i was awakened by dr. munroe, who came with a bottle of that smoky scotch whiskey which i can never like, and who insisted on my taking a glass with him in honor of the day. christmas in my country is very different indeed from what i have seen here. with us it is a general merry-making, a day of joy. our lads have guns, and fire almost all night, and dance all day and the next night. invitations are sent to all friends and acquaintances, and the time passes more gayly than i can describe. here, _families_ only join together, they go to church together, eat a very good dinner together, i dare say; but all is dull--silent--mournful. as to myself, i took a walk and dined with mr. munroe and family, and spent a quiet evening with john chorley. this is my christmas day for . _december ._ immediately after breakfast the box came containing the fifth number, and three full sets for my new subscribers here. the work pleased me quite. _december ._ this morning i walked to "lady" rathbone's with my fifth number. it is quite impossible to approach green bank, when the weather is at all fair, without enjoying the song of some birds; for, lucy, that sweet place is sacred, and all the feathered tribe in perfect safety. a redwing particularly delighted me to-day; i found something of the note of our famous mock-bird in his melody. * * * * * _january , , manchester._ how many times since daylight reached my eyes, i have wished thee, my lucy, our sons, and our friends, a year of comfort, of peace and enjoyment, i cannot tell, for the day is to me always one on which to pray for those we love. now, my lucy, when i wished thee a happy new year this morning i emptied my snuff box, locked up the box in my trunk, and will take _no more_. the habit within a few weeks has grown upon me, so farewell to it; it is a useless and not very clean habit, besides being an expensive one. snuff! farewell to thee. thou knowest, lucy, well that when i will _i will_. i came here straight to friend sergeant's; i need not say i was welcomed; and bentley soon came in to spend the evening with us. _london, january , ._ at six last evening i was in the coach with three companions; i slept well after we stopped for supper at nine o'clock, but not long enough. i cannot sleep in the morning, and was awake four long hours before day. the moon, that had shone brightly, sunk in the west as day dawned, the frost appeared thickly strewn over the earth, and not a cloud was in sight. i saw a few flocks of partridges on their roost, which thou knowest well is on the ground, with their heads all turned to east, from which a gentle waft of air was felt; the cattle were lying here and there; a few large flocks of starlings were all that interested me. the dawn was clear, but before we left northampton it rained, snowed, and blew as if the elements had gone mad; strange country, to be sure. the three gentlemen in the coach with me suggested cards, and asked me to take a hand; of course i said yes, but only on condition that they did not play for money, a thing i have never done. they agreed very courteously, though expressing their surprise, and we played whist all day, till i was weary. i know little about cards, and never play unless obliged to by circumstances; i feel no pleasure in the game, and long for other occupation. twenty-four hours after leaving manchester, we stopped at the angel inn, islington road. i missed my snuff all day; whenever my hands went into my pockets in search of my box, and i discovered the strength of habit, thus acting without thought, i blessed myself that my mind was stronger than my body. i am again in london, but not dejected and low of spirits and disheartened as i was when i came in may last; no, indeed! i have now _friends_ in london, and hope to keep them. _ great russell st., january ._ i took a famous walk before day, up to primrose hill, and was back before anyone in the house was up. i have spent the whole day going over my drawings, and decided on the twenty-five that are to form the numbers for . the new birds i have named as follows: children,[ ] vigors,[ ] temminck, cuvier.[ ] havell came and saw the drawings; it gave him an idea of the work to be performed between now and next january. _january ._ i have ordered one set of my birds to be colored by havell _himself_, for congress, and the numbers already out will soon be _en route_. my frame maker came in, and the poor man took it for granted that i was _an artist_, but, dear me! what a mistake; i can draw, but i shall never paint well. the weather is extremely dull and gloomy; during the morning the light was of a deep yellow cast. _january ._ had a long letter from john chorley, and after some talk with my good friend j. g. children, have decided to write nothing more except the biographies of my birds. it takes too much time to write to this one and that one, to assure them that what i have written is _fact_. when nature as it is found in my beloved america is better understood, these things will be known generally, and when i have been dead twenty years, more or less, my statements will be accepted everywhere; till then they may wait.[ ] i have a violent cough and sore throat that renders me heavy and stupid; twenty-five years ago i would not have paid it the least attention; now i am told that at my age and in this climate (which, god knows, is indeed a very bad one), i may have trouble if i do not take some remedy. i walked out at four this morning, but the air was thick and i did not enjoy it. _january _. i am going to surprise thee. i had a dentist inspect my teeth, as they ached; he thought it was the effect of my cold, as all are quite perfect and i have never lost one. my throat continuing very sore, i remained in my rooms, and have had havell, robert sully, and mr. children for companions. _january ._ i feel now much better, after several feverish days, but have not moved from the house; every one of my friends show me much kindness. _january ._ a long morning with havell settling accounts; it is difficult work for a man like me to see that i am neither cheating nor cheated. all is paid for , and i am well ahead in funds. had i made such regular settlements all my life, i should never have been as poor a man as i have been; but on the other hand i should never have published the "birds of america." america! my country! oh, to be there! _january ._ spent the morning with dr. lambert and mr. don,[ ] the famous botanist; we talked much of the plants and trees of america and of mr. nuttall[ ] while opening and arranging a great parcel of dried plants from the indies. this afternoon i took a cab and with my portfolio went to mr. children's. i cannot, he tells me, take my portfolio on my shoulder in london as i would in new york, or even _tenacious_ philadelphia. _january ._ oh! how dull i feel; how long am i to be confined in this immense jail? in london, amidst all the pleasures, i feel unhappy and dull; the days are heavy, the nights worse. shall i ever again see and enjoy the vast forests in their calm purity, the beauties of america? i wish myself anywhere but in london. _why_ do i dislike london? is it because the constant evidence of the contrast between the rich and the poor is a torment to me, or is it because of its size and crowd? i know not, but i long for sights and sounds of a different nature. young green came to ask me to go with him to see regent's park, and we went accordingly, i rather an indifferent companion, i fear, till we reached the bridge that crosses the waters there, where i looked in vain for water-fowl. failing to find any i raised my eyes towards the peaceful new moon, and to my astonishment saw a large flock of wild ducks passing over me; after a few minutes a second flock passed, which i showed my young friend. two flocks of wild ducks, of upwards of twenty each! wonderful indeed! i thought of the many i have seen when bent on studying their habits, and grew more homesick than ever. _january ._ notwithstanding this constant darkness of mood, my business must be attended to; therefore soon after dawn i joined havell and for many hours superintended his coloring of the plates for congress. while i am not a colorist, and havell is a very superior one, i _know_ the birds; would to god i was among them. from here i went to find a bookseller named wright, but i passed the place twice because i looked too high for his sign; the same occurs to young hunters, who, when first they tread the woods in search of a deer, keep looking high, and far in the distance, and so pass many a one of these cunning animals, that, squatted in a parcel of dry brush-wood, sees his enemy quite well, and suffers him to pass without bouncing from his couch. the same instinct that leads me through woods struck me in the haymarket, and now i found mr. wright. our interview over, i made for piccadilly, the weather as mild as summer, and the crowd innumerable. piccadilly was filled with carriages of all sorts, men on horseback, and people everywhere; what a bustle! _january ._ i was so comfortless last night that i scarcely closed my eyes, and at last dressed and walked off in the dark to regent's park, led there because _there_ are some objects in the shape of trees, the grass is green, and from time to time the sweet notes of a blackbird strike my ear and revive my poor heart, as it carries my mind to the woods around thee, my lucy. as daylight came a flock of starlings swept over my head, and i watched their motions on the green turf where they had alighted, until i thought it time to return to breakfast, and i entered my lodgings quite ready for my usual bowl of bread and milk, which i still keep to for my morning meal; how often have i partaken of it in simple cabins, much more to my taste than all the pomp of london. drawing all day long. _january ._ how delighted and pleased i have been this day at the receiving of thy letter of the st of november last. my lucy, thou art so good to me, and thy advices are so substantial, that, rest assured, i will follow them closely. _january ._ to my delight friend bentley appeared this evening. i was glad i could give him a room while he is in london. he brought news of some fresh subscribers, and a letter from the rev. d---- to ask to be excused from continuing the work. query: how many amongst my now long list of subscribers will continue the work throughout? _january ._ i usually leave the house two hours before day for a long walk; this morning it was again to regent's park; this gives me a long day for my work. after breakfast bentley and i paid a long visit to mr. leadbeater, the great stuffer of birds. he was very cordial, and showed us many beautiful and rare specimens; but they were all _stuffed_, and i cannot bear them, no matter how well mounted they may be. i received to-day a perpetual ticket of admission to mr. cross's exhibition of quadrupeds, live birds, etc., which pleased me very much, for there i can look upon nature, even if confined in iron cages. bentley made me a present of a curiosity,--a "double penny" containing a single one, a half-penny within that, a farthing in that, and a silver penny within all. now, my lucy, who could have thought to make a thing like that? _january ._ of course my early walk. after breakfast, bentley being desirous to see regent's park, i accompanied him thither and we walked all round it; i think it is rather more than a mile in diameter. we saw a squadron of horse, and as i am fond of military manoeuvres, and as the horses were all handsome, with full tails, well mounted and managed, it was a fine sight, and we both admired it. we then went to mr. cross, and i had the honor of riding on a very fine and gentle elephant; i say "honor," because the immense animal was so well trained and so obedient as to be an example to many human beings who are neither. the duchess of a---- came in while i was there,--a large, very fat, red-faced woman, but with a sweet voice, who departed in a coach drawn by four horses with two riders, and two footmen behind; almost as much attendance as when she was a queen on the boards of ---- theatre, thirty years ago. _january ._ i received a letter from d. lizars to-day announcing to me the loss of four subscribers; but these things do not damp my spirits half so much as the smoke of london. i am as dull as a beetle. _january ._ i have been in my room most of this day, and very dull in this dark town. _february , ._ another journal! it has now twenty-six brothers;[ ] some are of french manufacture, some from gilpin's "mills on the brandywine," some from other parts of america, but you are positively a londoner. i bought you yesterday from a man across the street for fourteen shillings; and what i write in you is for my wife, lucy audubon, a matchless woman, and for my two kentucky lads, whom i do fervently long to press to my heart again. it has rained all day. bentley and i paid a visit to the great anatomist, dr. j. brookes,[ ] to see his collection of skeletons of divers objects. he received us with extreme kindness. i saw in his yard some few rare birds. he was called away on sudden and important business before we saw his museum, so we are to go on monday. mr. cross, of the exeter exchange, had invited bentley and me to dinner with his quadrupeds and bipeds, and at three o'clock we took a coach, for the rain was too heavy for bentley, and drove to the menagerie. mr. cross by no means deserves his name, for he is a pleasant man, and we dined with his wife and himself and the keepers of the beasts (name given by _men_ to quadrupeds). none of the company were very polished, but all behaved with propriety and good humor, and i liked it on many accounts. mr. cross conversed very entertainingly. bentley had two tickets for drury lane theatre. it was "the critic" again; immediately after, as if in spite of that good lesson, "the haunted inn" was performed, and the two gentlemen called _matthews_ and _litton_ so annoyed me with their low wit that i often thought that, could shakespeare or garrick be raised from their peaceful places of rest, tears of sorrow would have run down their cheeks to see how abused their darling theatre was this night. bentley was more fortunate than i, he went to sleep. at my rooms i found a little circular piece of ivory with my name, followed by "and friends," and a letter stating it was a perpetual ticket of admission to the zoölogical gardens. this was sent at the request of mr. brookes. _february ._ bentley and i went to the gardens of the zoölogical society, which are at the opposite end of regent's park from my lodgings. the gardens are quite in a state of infancy; i have seen more curiosities in a swamp in america in one morning than is collected here since eighteen months; all, however, is well planned, clean, and what specimens they have are fine and in good condition. as we were leaving i heard my name called, and turning saw mr. vigors with a companion to whom he introduced me; it was the famous captain sabine,[ ] a tall, thin man, who at once asked me if among the eagles they had, any were the young of the white-headed eagle, or as he called the bird, the _falco leucocephalus_. strange that such great men should ask a woodsman questions like that, which i thought could be solved by either of them at a glance. i answered in the affirmative, for i have seen enough of them to know. _february ._ i made a present to bentley of the first number of my work, and some loose prints for his brothers. then we went to mr. brookes, the surgeon, and saw his immense and wonderful collection of anatomical subjects. the man has spent about the same number of years at this work as i have at my own, and now offers it for sale at £ , . i then called on vigors and told him i wished to name my new bird in no. after him, and he expressed himself well pleased. this evening i took my portfolio to soho square and entered the rooms of the linnæan society, where i found i was the first arrival. i examined the various specimens till others came in. the meeting was called to order, and i was shortly after elected a member; my drawings were examined, and more than one told me it was a sad thing they were so little known in london. _february ._ havell brought me the sets he owed me for , and i paid him in full. either through him or mr. lizars i have met with a loss of nearly £ , for i am charged for fifty numbers more than can be accounted for by my agents or myself. this seems strange always to me, that people cannot be honest, but i must bring myself to believe many are not, from my own experiences. my evening was spent in bruton street, at the zoölogical society rooms, where lord stanley accompanied me, with lord auckland and good old general hardwicke, and my portfolio was again opened and my work discussed. _february ._ this morning i took one of my drawings from my portfolio and began to copy it, and intend to finish it in better style. it is the white-headed eagle which i drew on the mississippi some years ago, feeding on a wild goose; now i shall make it breakfast on a catfish, the drawing of which is also with me, with the marks of the talons of another eagle, which i disturbed on the banks of that same river, driving him from his prey. i worked from seven this morning till dark. _february ._ precisely the same as yesterday, neither cross nor dull, therefore, but perfectly happy. _february ._ still hard at it, and this evening the objects on my paper look more like a bird and a fish than like a windmill, as they have done. three more days and the drawing will be finished if i have no interruptions. _february ._ no drawing to-day; no, indeed! at nine this morning i was at the house of friend hays, no. queen street, to meet the secretary of the colonial department. mr. hays showed me a superb figure of a hercules in brass, found in france by a peasant while ploughing, and for which £ has been refused. _february ._ yesterday i worked at my drawing all day, and began this morning at seven, and worked till half-past four, only ceasing my work to take a glass of milk brought me by my landlady. i have looked carefully at the effect and the finishing. ah! my lucy, that i could paint in oils as i can in my own style! how proud i should be, and what handsome pictures i should soon have on hand. _february ._ i heard to-day of the death of mrs. gregg of quarry bank. i was grieved to know that kind lady, who had showed me much hospitality, should have died; i have hesitated to write to her son-in-law, mr. rathbone, fearing to disturb the solemnity of his sorrow. at the linnæan society this evening, my friend selby's work lay on the table by mine, and very unfair comparisons were drawn between the two; i am quite sure that had he had the same opportunities that my curious life has granted me, his work would have been far superior to mine; i supported him to the best of my power. the fact is, _i_ think, that no man yet has done anything in the way of illustrating the birds of england comparable to his great work; then besides, he is an excellent man, devoted to his science, and if he has committed slight errors, it becomes men of science not to dwell upon these to the exclusion of all else. i was to-day elected an original member of the zoölogical society. i also learned that it was sir thomas lawrence who prevented the british museum from subscribing to my work; he considered the drawing so-so, and the engraving and coloring bad; when i remember how he praised these same drawings _in my presence_, i wonder--that is all. _february ._ a most gloomy day; had i no work what a miserable life i should lead in london. i receive constantly many invitations, but all is so formal, so ceremonious, i care not to go. thy piano sailed to-day; with a favorable voyage it may reach new orleans in sixty days. i have read the grand turk's proclamation and sighed at the awful thought of a war all over europe; but there, thou knowest i am no politician. a fine young man, mr. j. f. ward, a bird-stuffer to the king, came to me this afternoon to study some of the positions of my birds. i told him i would lend him anything i had. _february ._ to-day i called by appointment on the earl of kinnoul, a small man, with a face like the caricature of an owl; he said he had sent for me to tell me all my birds _were alike_, and he considered my work a swindle. he may really think this, his knowledge is probably small; but it is not the custom to send for a gentleman to abuse him in one's own house. i heard his words, bowed, and without speaking, left the rudest man i have met in this land; but he is only thirty, and let us hope may yet learn how to behave to a perfect stranger under his roof. _february ._ a man entered my room this afternoon, and said: "sir, i have some prisoners to deliver to you from the town of york." "prisoners!" i exclaimed, "why, who are they?" the good man produced a very small cage, and i saw two sweet little wood larks, full of vivacity, and as shy as prisoners in custody. their eyes sparkled with fear, their little bodies were agitated, the motions of their breasts showed how their hearts palpitated; their plumage was shabby, but they were wood larks, and i saw them with a pleasure bordering on frenzy. wood larks! the very word carried me from this land into woods indeed. these sweet birds were sent to me from york, by my friend john backhouse, an ornithologist of real merit, and with them came a cake of bread made of a peculiar mixture, for their food. i so admired the dear captives that for a while i had a strong desire to open their prison, and suffer them to soar over london towards the woodlands dearest to them; and yet the selfishness belonging to man alone made me long to keep them. ah! man! _what a brute thou art!_--so often senseless of those sweetest feelings that ought to ornament our species, if indeed we are the "lords of creation." _cambridge, march ._ i arrived at this famous university town at half-past four this afternoon, after a tedious ride of eight and a half hours from london, in a heavy coach in which i entered at the white horse, fetter lane, and i am now at the blue boar, and blue enough am i. but never mind, i was up _truly early_, took a good walk in regent's park, and was back before any one in the house was up. sully took breakfast with me, and took charge of my larks, and saw me off. i thought we never would get rid of london, it took just one hour to get clear of the city. what a place! yet many persons live there solely because they like it. at last the refreshing country air filled my lungs; i saw with pleasure many tender flowers peeping out of the earth, anxious to welcome the approaching spring. the driver held confidences with every grog shop between london and cambridge, and his purple face gave powerful evidences that malt liquor is more enticing to him than water. the country is flat, but it was country, and i saw a few lambs gambolling by their timorous dams, a few rooks digging the new-ploughed ground for worms, a few finches on the budding hedges. on entering cambridge i was struck with its cleanliness, the regular shape of the colleges, and the number of students with floating mantles, flat caps, and long tassels of silk, hanging sideways. i had a letter for a lodging house where i expected to stay, but no numbers are affixed to any doors in cambridge. i do not know if it is so in order to teach the students to better remember things, but i found it very inconvenient; i hunted and searched in vain, and as the students in their gay moods have been in the habit of destroying all the door-bells, i had to knock loudly at any door where i wished to make inquiries, but not finding the good lady to whom my letter was addressed, i am still at the inn. _march ._ one of my travelling-companions, mr. ----, an architect, offered to show me some of the colleges, and put me in the way of delivering some of my letters; so we walked through the different courts of trinity, and i was amazed at the exquisite arrangement of the buildings, and when we arrived at the walks i was still more pleased. i saw beautiful grass-plats, fine trees, around which the evergreen, dark, creeping ivy, was entwined, and heard among the birds that enlivened these the shrill notes of the variegated woodpecker, quite enchanting. as i passed under these trees i tried to recollect how many illustrious learned men have studied within the compass of their shade. a little confined, but pure streamlet, called the cam, moved slowly on, and the air was delicious. we went to st. john's, where my companion was engaged in some work, and here i left him, and continued on my way alone, to deliver my letters. i called on the rev. h. greenwood, professor sedgwick,[ ] and professor whewell;[ ] all were most kind, as were the rev. thos. catton, mr. g. a. brown, mr. george heath, and professor henslow,[ ] and i have made several engagements to dine, etc. _march ._ since i left edinburgh, i have not had a day as brilliant as this in point of being surrounded by learned men. this morning i took a long walk among the colleges, and watched many birds; while thus employed, a well dressed man handed me a card on which was written in _english_, "the bearer desires to meet with some one who speaks either french, italian, or spanish." i spoke to him in spanish and french, both of which he knew well. he showed me a certificate from the consul of sweden, at leith, which affirmed his story, that he with three sailors had been shipwrecked, and now wished to return to the continent, but they had only a few shillings, and none of them spoke english. i gave him a sovereign, just as i saw professor sedgwick approaching; he came to my room to see my birds, but could only give me a short time as he had a lecture to deliver. i returned to my rooms, and just as i was finishing lunch the vice-chancellor made his appearance,--a small old man, with hair as white as snow, dressed in a flowing gown, with two little bits of white muslin in lieu of cravat. he remained with me upwards of two hours; he admired my work, and promised to do all he could. i was delighted with his conversation; he is a man of wide knowledge, and it seemed to me of sound judgment. professor henslow invited me to dine on friday, and just as i finished my note of acceptance, came in with three gentlemen. at four i went to mr. greenwood's to dine; as i entered i saw with dismay upwards of thirty gentlemen; i was introduced to one after another, and then we went to the "hall," where dinner was set. this hall resembled the interior of a gothic church; a short prayer was said, and we sat down to a sumptuous dinner. eating was not precisely my object, it seldom is; i looked first at the _convives_. a hundred students sat apart from our table, and the "fellows," twelve in number, with twenty guests constituted our "mess." the dinner, as i said, was excellent, and i thought these learned "fellows" must have read, among other studies, dr. kitchener on the "art of cookery." the students gradually left in parcels, as vultures leave a carcass; we remained. a fine gilt or gold tankard, containing a very strong sort of nectar, was handed to me; i handed it, after tasting, to the next, and so it went round. now a young man came, and as we rose, he read a short prayer from a small board (such as butchers use to kill flies with). we then went to the room where we had assembled, and conversation at once began; perhaps the wines went the rounds for an hour, then tea and coffee, after which the table was cleared, and i was requested to open my portfolio. i am proud _now_ to show them, and i saw with pleasure these gentlemen admired them. i turned over twenty-five, but before i had finished received the subscription of the librarian for the university, and the assurance of the secretary of the philosophical society that they would take it. it was late before i was allowed to come away. _thursday, march ._ a cold snowy day; i went to the library of the university and the philosophical society rooms, and dined again in "hall," with professor sedgwick. there were four hundred students, and forty "fellows;" quite a different scene from corpus college. each one devoured his meal in a hurry; in less than half an hour grace was read again by _two_ students, and professor whewell took me to his own rooms with some eight or ten others. my book was inspected as a matter of courtesy. professor sedgwick was gay, full of wit and cleverness; the conversation was very animated, and i enjoyed it much. oh! my lucy, that i also had received a university education! i listened and admired for a long time, when suddenly professor whewell began asking me questions about the woods, the birds, the aborigines of america. the more i rove about, the more i find how little known the interior of america is; we sat till late. no subscriber to-day, but i must not despair; nothing can be done without patience and industry, and, thank god, i have both. _march ._ the frost was so severe last night that the ground was white when i took my walk; i saw ice an eighth of an inch thick. as most of the fruit trees are in blossom, the gardeners will suffer this year. inclement though it was, the birds were courting, and some, such as jackdaws and rooks, forming nests. after breakfast i went to the library, having received a permit, and looked at three volumes of le vaillant's "birds of africa," which contain very bad figures. i was called from here to show my work to the son of lord fitzwilliam, who came with his tutor, mr. upton. the latter informed me the young nobleman wished to own the book. i showed my drawings, and he, being full of the ardor of youth, asked where he should write his name. i gave him my list; his youth, his good looks, his courtesy, his refinement attracted me much, and made me wish his name should stand by that of some good friend. there was no room by mrs. rathbone's, so i asked that he write immediately above the countess of morton, and he wrote in a beautiful hand, which i wish i could equal, "hon. w. c. wentworth fitzwilliam." he is a charming young man, and i wish him _bon voyage_ through life. on returning to my lodgings this evening, my landlord asked me to join him in what he called "a glass of home-brewed." i accepted, not to hurt his feelings, a thing i consider almost criminal; but it is muddy looking stuff, not to my taste. _saturday, th._ the weather bad, but my eyes and ears were greeted by more birds than i have seen yet in this country. i dined at the vice-chancellor's, and found myself among men of deep research, learning, and knowledge,--mild in expressions, kind in attentions, and under whom i fervently wished it had been my lot to have received such an education as they possess. _sunday, march ._ cambridge on a sunday is a place where i would suppose the basest mind must relax, for the time being, from the error of denying the existence of a supreme being; all is calm--silent-- solemn--almost sublime. the beautiful bells fill the air with melody, and the heart with a wish for prayer. i went to church with mr. whewell at great st. mary's, and heard an impressive sermon on hope from mr. henslow. after that i went to admire nature, as the day was beautifully inviting. professor heath of king's college wished me to see his splendid chapel, and with a ticket of admission i resorted there at three. we had simple hymns and prayers, the former softly accompanied by the notes of an immense organ, standing nearly in the centre of that astonishing building; the chanters were all young boys in white surplices. i walked with mr. heath to mr. whewell's, and with him went to trinity chapel. the charm that had held me all day was augmented many fold as i entered an immense interior where were upward of four hundred collegians in their white robes. the small wax tapers, the shadowy distances, the slow footfalls of those still entering, threw my imagination into disorder. a kind of chilliness almost as of fear came to me, my lips quivered, my heart throbbed, i fell on my knees and prayed to be helped and comforted. i shall remember this sensation forever, my lucy. when at liverpool, i always go to the church for the blind; did i reside at cambridge, i would be found each sunday at trinity chapel. _march ._ i was introduced to judge ----, on his way to court,--a monstrously ugly old man, with a wig that might make a capital bed for an osage indian during the whole of a cold winter on the arkansas river. _london, march ._ the scene is quite changed, or better say returned, for i am again in london. i found my little larks as lively as ever, but judge of my pleasure when i found three letters from thee and victor and johnny, dated nov. , dec. , and jan. . what comfort would it be to see thee. havell tells me a hundred sets of no. are in hand for coloring. mr. david lyon called to see my work, and said it had been recommended to him by sir thos. lawrence. this seems strange after what i heard before, but like all other men sir thomas has probably his enemies, and falsehoods have been told about him. _march ._ called on havell and saw the plate of the parroquets nearly finished; i think it is a beautiful piece of work. my landlady received a notice that if she did not pay her rent to-morrow an officer would be put in possession. i perceived she was in distress when i came in, and asking her trouble gave her what assistance i could by writing a cheque for £ , which she has promised to repay. this evening i went to covent garden to see "othello;" i had an excellent seat. i saw kean, young, and kemble; the play was terrifyingly well performed. _saturday, march ._ to-day i was with friend sergeant most of the time; this evening have paid havell in full, and now, thank god, feel free to leave noisy, smoky london. _oxford, march ._ i am now in oxford _the clean_, and in comfortable lodgings. i arrived at four o'clock, shrunk to about one half my usual size by the coldness of the weather, having ridden on top of the coach, facing the northern blast, that caused a severe frost last night, and has, doubtless, nipped much fruit in the bud. as i travelled i saw windsor castle about two miles distant, and also witnessed the turning out of a stag from a cart, before probably a hundred hounds and as many huntsmen. a curious land, and a curious custom, to catch an animal, and set it free merely to catch again. we crossed the thames twice, near its head; it does not look like the ohio, i assure thee; a sand-hill crane could easily wade across it without damping its feathers. _march ._ my feet are positively sore battering the pavement; i have walked from one house and college to another all day, but have a new subscriber, and one not likely to die soon, the anatomical school, through dr. kidd.[ ] he and i ran after each other all day like the red-headed woodpeckers in the spring. i took a walk along two little streams, bearing of course the appellation of rivers, the isis and the charwell; the former freezes i am told at the bottom, never at the top. oxford seems larger than cambridge, but is not on the whole so pleasing to me. i do not think the walks as fine, there are fewer trees, and the population is more mixed. i have had some visitors, and lunched with dr. williams, who subscribed for the radcliffe library, whither we both went to inspect the first number. when i saw it, it drew a sigh from my heart. ah! mr. lizars! was this the way to use a man who paid you so amply and so punctually? i rolled it up and took it away with me, for it was hardly colored at all, and have sent a fair new set of five numbers. i dined at the vice-chancellor's at six; his niece, miss jenkins, did the honors of the table most gracefully. there were ten gentlemen and four ladies, and when the latter left, the conversation became more general. i was spoken to about wilson and c. bonaparte, and could heartily praise both. _march ._ breakfasted with mr. hawkins, provost of oriel college, and went immediately after with him to the dean of trinity. the large salon was filled with ladies and gentlemen engaged with my work; my drawings followed, and i showed them, but, oh, lucy, how tired i am of doing this. the dean has, i think, the finest family of daughters i have ever seen; eight blooming, interesting young ladies; from here to dr. kidd, where was another room full of company to see my drawings. among my visitors was dr. ed. burton,[ ] who invited me to breakfast to-morrow. _march ._ never since i was at the delightful green bank, or at twizel house have i had so agreeable a breakfast as i enjoyed this morning. i was shown into a neat parlor giving on a garden, and was greeted by a very beautiful and gracious woman; this was mrs. burton. dr. burton came in through the window from the garden; in a moment we were at table and i felt at once at home, as if with my good friend "lady" rathbone. dr. and mrs. burton have an astonishing collection of letters, portraits, etc., and i was asked to write my name and the date of my birth as well as the present date. the former, i could not do, except approximately, and mrs. burton was greatly amused that i should not know; what i _do_ know is that i am no longer a young man. a letter from mr. hawkins told me dr. buckland[ ] was expected to-morrow, and i was asked to meet him at dinner at his own house by mrs. buckland. i dined with the provost of oriel and nine other gentlemen, among them the son of the renowned mr. wilberforce. _march ._ to-morrow, probably, i leave here, and much disappointed. there are here twenty-two colleges intended to promote science in all its branches; i have brought here samples of a work acknowledged to be at least good, and not one of the colleges has subscribed. i have been most hospitably treated, but with so little encouragement for my work there is no reason for me to remain. _london, march ._ left oxford at eleven this morning, the weather still intensely cold. we had a guard dressed in red with sizable buttons, a good artist on the bugle, who played in very good style, especially fugues and anthems, which were harmonious but not cheerful. i saw a poor man and his wife trudging _barefoot_ this weather, a sight which drew the rings of my purse asunder. almost as soon as i reached my lodgings a gentleman, mr. loudon,[ ] called to ask me to write zoölogical papers for his journal. i declined, for i will never write anything to call down upon me a second volley of abuse. i can only write _facts_, and when i write those the philadelphians call me a liar. _april , ._ i have the honor to be a fellow of the linnæan society of london, quite fresh from the mint, for the news reached me when the election was not much more than over. mr. vigors tells me baron cuvier is to be here this week. i had some agreeable time with a gentleman from ceylon, bennett[ ] by name, who has a handsome collection of fish from that place. _april ._ called on mr. children, and together we walked to mr. havell's, where he saw the drawings for no. . how slowly my immense work progresses; yet it goes on apace, and may god grant me life to see it accomplished and finished. then, indeed, will i have left a landmark of my existence. _april ._ i have had many corrections to make to my prospectus, which have taken much time. i also examined many of my drawings, which i thought had suffered exceedingly from the damp; this quite frightened me. what a misfortune it would be if they should be spoiled, for few men would attempt the severe task i have run through, i think. and as to me, alas! i am growing old, and although my spirits are as active as ever, my body declines, and perhaps i never could renew them all. i shall watch them carefully. indeed, should i find it necessary, i will remove them to edinburgh or paris, where the atmosphere is less dangerous. _april ._ i have not written a word for three days, because, in truth, i have little to mention. whenever i am in this london all is alike indifferent to me, and i in turn indifferent. ah! my love, on a day like this in america i could stroll in magnificent woods, i could listen to sounds fresh and pure, i could look at a _blue_ sky. mr. loudon called and said he was anxious to have a review of my work in his magazine, and would write to mr. wm. swainson,[ ] a naturalist and friend of dr. traill's, to do so. he again begged me to write an article for him, for which he would pay eight guineas; but no, i will write no more for publication except, as has been urged, to accompany my own pictures. _april ._ i have now only one set on hand; i had fifteen when i went to cambridge. i hope soon to hear from liverpool; the silence of a friend sometimes terrifies me; i dread to learn that my venerable, good "lady" rathbone is ill. _april ._ i cannot conceive why, but my spirits have been much too low for my own comfort. i thought strongly of returning to america; such a long absence from thee is dreadful. i sometimes fear we shall never meet again _in this world_. i called on havell, who showed me the white-headed eagle, a splendid plate indeed, and nearly finished. _april ._ i did but little yesterday, i was quite unwell; in the afternoon i walked to bruton st. and saw mr. vigors, who assisted me in the nomenclature of the hawk for lord stanley. this afternoon i received a letter from mr. wm. swainson, inviting me to go to spend a day with him. my work continues to be well received, and as i have a tolerable list of subscribers i hope it will continue to improve. _april ._ the same feelings still exist this year that i felt last, during my whole stay in london. i hate it, yes, i cordially hate london, and yet cannot escape from it. i neither can write my journal when here, nor draw well, and if i walk to the fields around, the very voice of the sweet birds i hear has no longer any charm for me, the pleasure being too much mingled with the idea that in another hour all will again be bustle, filth, and smoke. last friday, when about to answer mr. swainson's letter, i suddenly thought that it would be best for me to go to see him at once. the weather was shocking; a dog would scarce have turned out to hunt the finest of game. i dined at two, and went to a coach office, when, after waiting a long time, the coachman assured me that unless i had been to mr. swainson's before, it would be madness to go that day, as his house lay off from the main road fully five miles, and it was a difficult place to find; moreover, the country, he said, was _swimming_. this is the first advice i have ever had from a coachman to stop me from paying my fare; i thanked him, and returned home, and wrote to mr. swainson; then walked twice round kensington gardens, most dull and melancholy. ah! cannot i return to america? _april ._ i have been so harassed in mind and body, since ten days, that i am glad to feel partially relieved at last. all the colorers abandoned the work because i found _one_ of their number was doing miserable daubing, and wished him dismissed unless he improved; but now they are all replaced. _may ._ mr. swainson has published a review of my work in mr. loudon's magazine, and how he has raised my talents. would that i could do as well as he says i do; then indeed would my pencil be eager to portray the delicate and elegant contours of the feathered tribe, the softness of their plumage, and their gay movements. alas, now i must remain in london overlooking engravers, colorers, and agents. yet when i close my eyes i hear the birds warbling, nay, every sound; the shriek of the falcon, the coy doves cooing; the whistling note of the grackle seems to fill my ear, again i am in the cornfield amidst millions of these birds, and then, transported afar, i must tread lightly and with care, to avoid the venomous rattler. i sent the first proof of the white-headed eagle to the marquis of landsdowne; he being the president of the zoölogical society, i thought it courteous to do so. _sunday, may ._ immediately after breakfast i went out with george woodley, and walked to the pretty village called hampstead. the rain that fell last night seemed only sufficient to revive nature's productions; the trees were lightly covered with foliage of a tender hue; the hawthorns dispersed along the thickets had opened their fragrant cups, the rich meadows showed promise of a fair crop. here and there a shy blackbird's note burst clearly, yet softly, while the modest blackcap skipped across our way. i enjoyed it all, but only transiently; i felt as if i must return to the grand beauties of the western world, so strong is the attachment impressed in man for his own country. i have been summing up the pros and cons respecting a voyage to america, with an absence of twelve months. the difficulties are many, but i am determined to arrange for it, if possible. i should like to renew about fifty of my drawings; i am sure that now i could make better compositions, and select better plants than when i drew merely for amusement, and without the thought of ever bringing them to public view. to effect this wish of mine, i must find a true, devoted friend who will superintend my work and see to its delivery--this is no trifle in itself. then i must arrange for the regular payments of twelve months' work, and _that_ is no trifle; but when i consider the difficulties i have surmounted, the privations of all sorts that i have borne, the many hairbreadth escapes i have had, the times i have been near sinking under the weight of the enterprise--ah! such difficulties as even poor wilson never experienced--what reasons have i now to suppose, or to make me think for a moment, that the omnipotent god who gave me a heart to endure and overcome all these difficulties, will abandon me now. no! my faith is the same--my desires are of a pure kind; i only wish to enjoy more of him by admiring his works still more than i have ever done before. he will grant me life, he will support me in my journeys, and enable me to meet thee again in america. _may ._ i walked early round the regent's park, and there purchased four beautiful little redpolls from a sailor, put them in my pocket, and, when arrived at home, having examined them to satisfy myself of their identity with the one found in our country, i gave them all liberty to go. what pleasure they must have felt rising, and going off over london; and i felt pleasure too, to know they had the freedom i so earnestly desired. _may ._ i received a long letter from charles bonaparte, and perceived it had been dipped in vinegar to prevent it from introducing the plague from italy to england. _june ._ i was at mr. swainson's from may till yesterday, and my visit was of the most agreeable nature. mr. and mrs. swainson have a charming home at tittenhanger green, near st. albans. mrs. swainson plays well on the piano, is amiable and kind; mr. swainson a superior man indeed; and their children blooming with health and full of spirit. such talks on birds we have had together. why, lucy, thou wouldst think that birds were all that we cared for in this world, but thou knowest this is not so. whilst there i began a drawing for mrs. swainson, and showed mr. swainson how to put up birds in my style, which delighted him. _august ._ more than two months have passed since i have opened my journal--not through idleness, but because, on the contrary, i have been too busy with my plates, and in superintending the coloring of them, and with painting. i wished again to try painting in oil, and set to with close attention, day after day, and have now before me eight pictures begun, but not one entirely finished. i have a great desire to exhibit some of these in this wonderful london. one of these pictures is from my sketch of an eagle pouncing on a lamb,[ ] dost thou remember it? they are on the top of a dreary mountain; the sky is dark and stormy, and i am sure the positions of the bird and his prey are wholly correct. my drawing is good, but the picture at present shows great coldness and want of strength. another is a copy of the very group of black cocks, or grouse, for which mr. gaily paid me £ , and i copy it with his permission; if it is better than his, and i think it will be, he must exchange, for assuredly he should own the superior picture. the others are smaller and less important. with the exception of such exercise as has been necessary, and my journeys (often several times a day) to havell's, i have not left my room, and have labored as if not to be painting was a heinous crime. i have been at work from four every morning till dark; i have kept up my large correspondence, my publication goes on well and regularly, and this very day seventy sets have been distributed; yet the number of my subscribers has not increased; on the contrary, i have lost some. i have met a mr. parker, whom i once knew in natchez; he asked me to permit him to paint my portrait as a woodsman, and though it is very tiresome to me, i have agreed to his request. the return of captain basil hall to england has rather surprised me; he called on me at once; he had seen our dear victor, mr. sully, dr. harlan, and many of my friends, to whom i had given him letters, for which he thanked me heartily. he has seen much of the united states, but says he is too true an englishman to like things there. time will show his ideas more fully, as he told me he should publish his voyage, journeys, and a number of anecdotes. _august ._ my usual long walk before breakfast, after which meal mr. parker took my first sitting, which consisted merely of the outlines of the head; this was a job of more than three hours, much to my disgust. we then went for a walk and turned into the zoölogical gardens, where we remained over an hour. i remarked two large and beautiful beavers, seated with the tail as usual under the body, their forelegs hanging like those of a squirrel. _august ._ i wrote to mr. swainson asking if he could not accompany me to france, where he said he wished to go when we were talking together at tittenhanger. _august ._ my absence from this dusty place has prevented my writing daily, but i can easily sum up. thursday afternoon on returning from havell's, i found mr. swainson just arrived. he had come to take me to tittenhanger green, where the pure air, the notes of the birds, the company of his wife and children, revived my drooping spirits. how very kind this was of him, especially when i reflect on what a short time i have known him. we procured some powder and shot, and seated ourselves in the coach for the journey. just as we were leaving london and its smoke, a man begged i would take a paper bag from him, containing a carrier pigeon, and turn it out about five miles off. the poor bird could have been put in no better hands, i am sure; when i opened the bag and launched it in the air, i wished from my heart i had its powers of flight; i would have ventured across the ocean to louisiana. at tittenhanger mrs. swainson and her darling boy came to meet us, and we walked slowly to the house; its happy cheer had great influence on my feelings. our evening was spent in looking over levaillant's[ ] work. we discovered, to the great satisfaction of my friend, two species of chatterers, discovered by the famous traveller in africa; until now our american species stood by itself, in the mind of the naturalist. my time afterwards was spent in shooting, painting, reading, talking, and examining specimens. but, my lucy, the most agreeable part of all this is that we three have decided to go to paris about the first of september, from there probably to brussels, rotterdam, and possibly amsterdam. _august ._ messrs. children and gray[ ] of the british museum called to see me this afternoon, and we talked much of that establishment. i was surprised when mr. gray told me £ per annum was all that was allowed for the purchase of natural curiosities. we were joined by captain basil hall. i now feel more and more convinced that he has not remained in america long enough, and that his judgment of things there must be only superficial. since these gentlemen left i have written to charles bonaparte a long letter, part of which i copy for thee: "my _sylvia roscoe_, is, i assure you, a distinct species from vieillot's; my _turdus aquaticus_ is very different from wilson's water thrush, as you will see when both birds are published. mine never reaches further south than savannah, its habits are quite different. _troglodytes bewickii_ is a new and rather a rare species, found only in the lowlands of the mississippi and louisiana. i have killed five or six specimens, and it differs greatly from _troglodytes ludovicianus_; i wish i had a specimen to send you. i particularly thank you for your observations, and i hope that you will criticise my work at all points, as a good friend should do, for how am i to improve if not instructed by men of superior talents? i cannot determine at present about '_stanleii_,' because i never have seen the _falco_ you mention. my bird is surely another found in the south and north, but a very rare species in all my travels; when you see the two figures, size of life, then you will be able to judge and to inform me. my journey to the mouth of the columbia is always uppermost in my mind, and i look to my return from that country to this as the most brilliant portion of my life, as i am confident many new birds and plants must be there, yet unknown to man. you are extremely kind to speak so favorably of my work, and to compare it with your own; it would be more worthy of that comparison, perhaps, if i had had the advantages of a classical education; all i deserve, i think, is the degree of encouragement due to my exertions and perseverance in figuring _exactly_ the different birds, and the truth respecting their habits, which will appear in my text. however, i accept all your kind sayings as coming from a friend, and one himself devoted to that beautiful department of science, ornithology." my subscribers are yet far from enough to pay my expenses, and my purse suffers severely for the want of greater patronage. the zoölogical gardens improve daily; they are now building winter quarters for the animals there. the specimens of skins from all parts of the world which are presented there are wonderful, but they have no place for them. _august ._ i have had the pleasure of a long letter from our victor, dated july ; this letter has reached me more rapidly than any since i have been in england. i am becoming impatient to start for paris. i do not expect much benefit by this trip, but i shall be glad to see what may be done. mr. parker has nearly finished my portrait, which he considers a good one, and _so do i_.[ ] he has concluded to go to paris with us, so we shall be quite a party. mr. vigors wrote asking me to write some papers for the "zoölogical journal," but i have refused him as all others. no _money_ can pay for abuse. this afternoon i had a visit from a mr. kirkpatrick, who bought my picture of the bantams. _august ._ i packed up my clothes early this morning and had my trunk weighed, as only forty pounds are allowed to each person. i also put my effects to rights, and was ready to start for anywhere by seven. _august ._ while mr. swainson was sitting with me, old bewick and his daughters called on me. good old man! how glad i was to see him again. it was, he said, fifty-one years since he had been in london, which is no more congenial to him than to me. he is now seventy-eight, and sees to engrave as well as when he was twenty years of age. dover, _september , _. now, my dear book, prepare yourself for a good scratching with my pen, for i have entered on a journey that i hope will be interesting. i had breakfast at six with mr. parker; we were soon joined by mr. and mrs. swainson and proceeded to the office in piccadilly, where we took our seats in the coach. at the "golden cross" in charing cross we took up the rest of our cargo. bless me! what a medley! a little, ill-looking frenchman--who fastened a gilt balancing-pole _under_ the coach, and put his wife and little daughter on top,--four men all foreigners, and a tall, rather good-looking demoiselle, with a bonnet not wanting in height or breadth or bows of blue ribbon, so stiff they must have been starched. she took her seat on top of the coach and soared aloft, like a frigate pelican over the seas. we started at eight and were soon out of london. the pure air of the country animated my spirits, and all were gay. we passed over black heath, through hartford and canterbury, the first a poor, dirty-looking place, the latter quite the contrary. the majestic cathedral rose above every other object, like one of god's monuments made to teach us his glory. the country more hilly, on an average, than any part of this island i have yet seen, but the land very poor. we saw the thames several times, and the sea at a great distance. the river medway, which we crossed at rochester, is influenced by the tides as far as that town. about six miles from this little seaport we suddenly saw dover castle, which with the sea and the undulating landscape made a pretty picture. as soon as we arrived we all went to see the cliffs that rise almost perpendicularly along the shore, the walks crowded with persons come to see the regatta to-morrow. _paris, september ._ i arrived here this morning at seven o'clock, and i assure thee, my lucy, that i and all my companions were pleased to get rid of the diligence, and the shocking dust that tormented us during our whole journey. we left dover at one, on tuesday, d; the wind blew sharply, and i felt that before long the sea would have evil effects on me, as it always has. we proceeded towards calais at a good rate, going along the shores of england until opposite the french port, for which we then made direct, and landed after three and a half hours' beating against wind and water. as soon as we landed we left our luggage and passports with a commissionaire, and went to dine at hôtel robart, where we had been recommended. our still sickly bodies were glad to rest, and there our passports were returned to us. i was much tickled to read that my complexion was _copper red_; as the monsieur at the office had never seen me, i suppose the word american suggested that all the natives of our country were aborigines. we then entered the diligence, a vehicle ugly and clumsy in the extreme, but tolerably comfortable unless over-crowded, and it travelled from six to seven miles an hour, drawn generally by five horses, two next the coach, and three abreast before those; the driver rides on the near wheel-horse dressed precisely like the monkeys in shows of animals. calais is a decaying fortified town; the ditches are partly filled with earth, and i cannot tell why there should exist at this time a drawbridge. as we proceeded it did not take much time to see already many differences between france and england. i will draw no parallel between these countries, i will merely tell thee what i saw. the country is poorly cultivated, although the land is good. no divisions exist to the eye, no cleanly trimmed hedges, no gates, no fences; all appeared to me like one of the old abandoned cotton plantations of the south. i remarked that there were more and taller trees than in england, and nearly the whole road was planted like the avenue to a gentleman's house. the road itself was better than i had expected, being broad, partly macadamized, and partly paved with square stones; i found it much alike during the whole journey. night coming on we lost the means of observation for a time, and stopped soon after dark for refreshment, and had some excellent coffee. i assure thee, lucy, that coffee in france is certainly better than anywhere else. we passed through st. omer, and a little farther on saw the lights of the fires from an encampment of twelve thousand soldiers. breakfast was had at another small village, where we were sadly annoyed by beggars. the country seems _very poor_; the cottages of the peasants are wretched mud huts. we passed through the departments of artois and picardy, the country giving now and then agreeable views. we dined at amiens, where the cathedral externally is magnificent. after travelling all night again, we found ourselves within forty miles of paris, and now saw patches of vineyards and found fruit of all kinds cheap, abundant, and good. we were put down at the messagerie royale rue des victoires, and i found to my sorrow that my plates were not among the luggage; so i did what i could about it, and we went to lodgings to which we had been recommended, with m. percez. mrs. swainson's brother, mr. parkes, came to see us at once, and we all went to the jardin des plantes, or jardin du roi, which fronts on a very bad bridge, built in great haste in the days of napoleon, then called le pont d'austerlitz, but now le pont ste. geneviève. i thought the gardens well laid out, large, handsome, but not everywhere well kept. we saw everything, then walked to the entrance of the famous musée; it was closed, but we knocked and asked for baron cuvier.[ ] he was in, but, we were told, too busy to be seen. being determined to look at the great man, we waited, knocked again, and with a certain degree of _firmness_ sent our names. the messenger returned, bowed, and led the way upstairs, where in a minute monsieur le baron, like an excellent good man, came to us. he had heard much of my friend swainson and greeted him as he deserves to be greeted; he was polite and kind to me, though my name had never made its way to his ears. i looked at him, and here follows the result: age about sixty-five; size corpulent, five feet five, english measure; head large; face wrinkled and brownish; eyes gray, brilliant and sparkling; nose aquiline, large and red; mouth large, with good lips; teeth few, blunted by age, excepting one on the lower jaw, measuring nearly three-quarters of an inch square. thus, my lucy, have i described cuvier almost as if a _new species of man_. he has invited us to dine with him next saturday at six, and as i hope to have many opportunities of seeing him i will write more as i become acquainted with him. after dinner mr. parker and i went roving anywhere and everywhere, but as it grew dark, and paris is very badly lighted, little can i say, more than that we saw the famous palais royal, and walked along each of its four avenues. the place was crowded, and filled with small shops, themselves filled with all sorts of bagatelles. _september ._ after breakfast, which was late but good, consisting of grapes, figs, sardines, and _french_ coffee, swainson and i proceeded to les jardins des plantes, by the side of the famous river seine, which here, lucy, is not so large as the bayou sara, where i have often watched the alligators while bathing. walking in paris is disagreeable in the extreme; the streets are paved, but with scarcely a sidewalk, and a large gutter filled with dirty black water runs through the centre of each, and the people go about without any kind of order, in the centre, or near the houses; the carriages, carts, etc., do the same, and i have wondered that so few accidents take place. we saw a very ugly bridge of iron called the pont neuf, and the splendid statue of henri quatre. we were, however, more attracted by the sight of the immense numbers of birds offered for sale along the quays, and some were rare specimens. a woman took us into her house and showed us some hundreds from bengal and senegal, and i assure thee that we were surprised. we proceeded to our appointment with baron cuvier, who gave us tickets for the musée, and promised all we could wish. at the musée m. valenciennes[ ] was equally kind. having a letter for m. geoffroy de st. hilaire,[ ] we went to his house in the jardins, and with him we were particularly pleased. he proved to me that he understood the difference in the ideas of the french and english perfectly. he repeated the words of cuvier and assured us my work had not been heard of in france. he promised to take us to the académie des sciences on monday next. i left swainson at work in the musée, and went to the louvre. there, entering the first open door, i was shown into the public part of the king's _appartement_, a thing i have never been able to accomplish in england. i saw the room where the grand councils are held, and many paintings illustrating the horrors of the french revolution. then to the galleries of painting and sculpture, where i found parker, and saw a number of artists copying in oil the best pictures. this evening we went to the théâtre français, where i saw the finest drop curtain i have yet beheld, and a fine tragedy, fiésque, which i enjoyed much. _september ._ the strange things one sees in this town would make a mountain of volumes if closely related; but i have not time, and can only speak to thee of a few. after our breakfast of figs and bread and butter, swainson and i went down the boulevard to the jardins royaux. these boulevards are planted with trees to shade them, and are filled with shops containing more objects of luxury and of necessity than can well be imagined. the boulevard we took is a grand promenade, and the seat of great bargains. i mean to say that a person unacquainted with the ways of the french _petit marchand_ may be cheated here, with better grace, probably, than anywhere else in the world; but one used to their tricks may buy cheap and good articles. in the afternoon we went again to the louvre, and admired the paintings in the splendid gallery, and lunched on chicken, a bottle of good wine, vegetables and bread, for thirty-five sous each. evening coming on, we proceeded, after dressing, to baron cuvier's house to dine. we were announced by a servant in livery, and received by the baron, who presented us to his only remaining daughter,--a small, well-made, good-looking lady, with sparkling black eyes, and extremely amiable. as i seldom go anywhere without meeting some one who has met me, i found among the guests a fellow of the linnæan society, who knew me well. the baroness now came in--a good-looking, motherly lady, and the company, amounting to sixteen, went to dinner. the baroness led the way with a gentleman, and the baron took in his daughter, but made friend swainson and me precede them; swainson sat next mademoiselle, who, fortunately for him, speaks excellent english. i was opposite to her, by the side of the baron. there was not the show of opulence at this dinner that is seen in the same rank of life in england, no, not by far, but it was a good dinner, served _à la française_. all seemed happy, and went on with more simplicity than in london. the dinner finished, the baroness rose, and we all followed her into the library. i liked this much; i cannot bear the _drinking matches_ of wine at the english tables. we had coffee, and the company increased rapidly; amongst them all i knew only captain parry, m. de condolleot (?), and mr. lesson,[ ] just returned from a voyage round the world. cuvier stuck to us, and we talked ornithology; he asked me the price of my work, and i gave him a prospectus. the company filled the room, it grew late, and we left well satisfied with the introductory step among _les savans français_. _sunday, september ._ the traveller who visits france without seeing a fête, such as i have seen this day at st. cloud, leaves the country unacquainted with that species of knowledge best adapted to show the manners of a people. st. cloud is a handsome town on the seine, about five miles below paris, built in horseshoe form on the undulating hills of this part of the country. these hills are covered with woods, through which villas, cottages, and chateaux emerge, and give life to the scene. on the west side of the village, and on its greatest elevation, stands the palace of the kings, the emperors, and the people. i say the people, because they are allowed to see the interior every day. with parker, i took a cab directly after breakfast to the _barrière des bons hommes_, and walked the remaining distance, say three miles. we had the seine in view most of the way, and crossed it on a fine iron bridge, one end of which forms the entrance to st. cloud, in front of which the river winds. we reached the gates of the palace, and found they were not opened till twelve o'clock; but a sergeant offered to show us the king's garden,--an offer we accepted with pleasure. the entrance is by an avenue of fine trees, their tops meeting over our heads, and presenting, through the vista they made, a frame for a beautiful landscape. we passed several pieces of water, the peaceful abode of numerous fish, basking on the surface; swans also held their concave wings unfurled to the light breeze--orange trees of fair size held their golden fruit pendent--flowers of every hue covered the borders, and a hundred statues embellished all with their well-modelled forms. so unmolested are the birds that a green woodpecker suffered my inspection as if in the woods of our dear, dear america. at the right time we found ourselves in the king's antechamber, and then passed through half a dozen rooms glittering with richest ornaments, painted ceilings, large pictures, and lighted by immense windows; all, however, too fine for my taste, and we were annoyed by the _gens d'armes_ watching us as if we were thieves. it was near two o'clock when we left, the weather beautiful, and heat such as is usually felt in baltimore about this season. the population of paris appeared now to flock to st. cloud; the road was filled with conveyances of all sorts, and in the principal walk before the palace were hundreds of _petits marchands_, opening and arranging their wares. music began in different quarters, groups lay on the grass, enjoying their repasts; every one seemed joyous and happy. one thing surprised me: we were at st. cloud ten hours,--they told us fifty thousand (?) were there, and i saw only three women of noticeable beauty; yet these short brunettes are animated and apparently thoughtless, and sing and dance as if no shadow could ever come over them. at four o'clock all was in full vigor; the sounds of horns and bugles drew us towards a place where we saw on a platform a party of musicians, three of whom were flemish women, and so handsome that they were surrounded by crowds. we passed through a sort of turnstile, and in a few minutes an equestrian performance began, in which the riders showed great skill, jugglers followed with other shows, and then we left; the same show in london would have cost three shillings; here, a franc. we saw people shooting at a target with a crossbow. when the marksman was successful in hitting the centre, a spring was touched, and an inflated silken goldfish, as large as a barrel, rose fifty yards in the air,--a pretty sight, i assure thee; the fins of gauze moved with the breeze, he plunged and rose and turned about, almost as a real fish would do in his element. shows of everything were there; such a medley--such crowds--such seeming pleasure in all around us, i never remarked anywhere but in france. no word of contention did i hear; all was peace and joy, and when we left not a disturbance had taken place. we had an excellent dinner, with a bottle of chablis, for three francs each, and returning to the place we had left, found all the fountains were playing, and dancing was universal; the musicians were good and numerous, but i was surprised to remark very few fine dancers. the woods, which were illuminated, looked extremely beautiful; the people constantly crossing and re-crossing them made the lights appear and disappear, reminding me of fireflies in our own woods in a summer night. as we passed out of the gates, we perceived as many persons coming as going, and were told the merriment would last till day. with difficulty we secured two seats in a cart, and returned to paris along a road with a double line of vehicles of all sorts going both ways. every few rods were guards on foot, and _gens d'armes_ on horseback, to see that all went well; and we at last reached our hotel, tired and dusty, but pleased with all we had seen, and at having had such an opportunity to see, to compare, and to judge of the habits of a people so widely different from either americans or english. _september ._ we went to pay our respects to baron cuvier and geoffroy st. hilaire;[ ] we saw only the first, who told us to be at the académie royale des sciences in an hour. i had _hired_ a portfolio, and took my work. as soon as we entered, baron cuvier very politely came to us, ordered a porter to put my book on a table, and gave me a seat of honor. the séance was opened by a tedious lecture on the vision of the mole; then cuvier arose, announcing my friend swainson and me and spoke of my work; it was shown and admired as usual, and cuvier requested to review it for the "mémoires of the academy." poor audubon! here thou art, a simple woodsman, among a crowd of talented men, yet kindly received by all--so are the works of god as shown in his birds loved by them. i left my book, that the librarian might show it to all who wished to see it. _september ._ went to the jardin du roi, where i met young geoffroy, who took me to a man who stuffs birds for the prince d'essling, who, i was told, had a copy of my work, but after much talk could not make out whether it was wilson's, selby's, or mine. i am to call on him to-morrow. i took a great walk round the boulevards, looking around me and thinking how curious my life has been, and how wonderful my present situation is. i took mrs. swainson to the louvre, and as we were about to pass one of the gates of the tuileries, the sentinel stopped us, saying no one could pass with a _fur cap_; so we went to another gate, where no such challenge was given, and reached the grand gallery. here amongst the raphaels, correggios, titians, davids, and thousands of others, we feasted our eyes and enlarged our knowledge. taking mrs. swainson home, i then made for l'institut de france by appointment, and gave my prospectus to the secretary of the library. young geoffroy, an amiable and learned young man, paid me every attention, and gave me a room for swainson and myself to write in and for the inspection of specimens. how very different from the public societies in england, where instead of being bowed to, you have to bow to every one. now, my lucy, i have certainly run the gauntlet of england and paris, and may feel proud of two things, that i am considered the first ornithological painter, and the first practical naturalist of america; may god grant me life to accomplish my serious and gigantic work. _september ._ breakfast over, i made for the boulevards to present the letters from good friends rathbone and melly. i saw mr. b----, the banker, who read the letter i gave him, and was most polite, but as to ornithology, all he knew about it was that large feathers were called _quills_, and were useful in posting ledgers. from there to the jardin du roi, where i called on monsieur l. c. kiener, bird stuffer to the prince of massena (or essling),[ ] who wished me to call on the prince with him at two, the prince being too ill to leave the house. mr. and mrs. swainson were to go with me to see the collection he had made, of many curious and beautiful things, and when we reached the house we were shown at once to the museum, which surpasses in magnificence and number of rare specimens of birds, shells, and books, all i have yet seen. this for a while, when i was told the prince would receive me. i took my _pamphlet_ in my arms and entered a fine room, where he was lying on a sofa; he rose at once, bowed, and presented his beautiful wife. as soon as i had untied my portfolio, and a print was seen, both exclaimed, "ah! c'est bien beau!" i was asked if i did not know charles bonaparte, and when i said yes, they again both exclaimed, "ah! c'est lui, the gentleman of whom we have heard so much, the man of the woods, who has made so many and such wonderful drawings." the prince regretted very much there were so few persons in france able to subscribe to such a work, and said i must not expect more than six or eight names in paris. he named all whom he and his lady knew, and then said it would give him pleasure to add his name to my list; he wrote it himself, next under that of the duke of rutland. this prince, son of the famous marshal, is about thirty years of age, apparently delicate, pale, slender, and yet good-looking, entirely devoted to natural history; his wife a beautiful young woman, not more than twenty, extremely graceful and polite. they both complimented me on the purity of my french, and wished me all success. my room at the hotel being very cramped, i have taken one at l'hôtel de france, large, clean, and comfortable, for which i pay twenty-five sous a day. we are within gun-shot of les jardins des tuileries. the _retraite_ is just now beating. this means that a few drummers go through the streets at eight o'clock in the evening, beating their drums, to give notice to all soldiers to make for their quarters. _september ._ i went early to rue richelieu to see the librarian of the king, mr. van praët, a small, white-haired gentleman, who assured me in the politest manner imaginable that it was out of the question to subscribe for such a work; he, however, gave me a card of introduction to m. barbier, a second librarian, belonging to the king's private library at the louvre. on my way i posted my letters for london; the inland postage of a single letter from paris to london is twenty-four sous, and the mail for london leaves four days in the week. m. barbier was out, but when i saw him later he advised me to write to the baron de la bouillerie, intendant of the king's household. so go my days.--this evening we went to the italian opera; it was not open when we arrived, so we put ourselves in the line of people desirous to enter, and at seven followed regularly, with no pushing or crowding (so different from england), as the arrangements are so perfect. we received our tickets, the change was counted at leisure, and we were shown into the pit, which contains three divisions; that nearest the orchestra contains the most expensive seats. the theatre is much less in extent than either drury lane or covent garden, but is handsome, and splendidly decorated and lighted. the orchestra contains more than double the number of musicians, and when the music began, not another sound was heard, all was silence and attention. never having been at the opera since my youth, the music astounded me. the opera was semiramis, and well executed, but i was not much pleased with it; it was too clamorous, a harmonious storm, and i would have preferred something more tranquil. i remarked that persons who left their seats intending to return laid on their seats a hat, glove, or card, which was quite sufficient to keep the place for them. in london what a treat for the thieves, who are everywhere. i walked home; the pure atmosphere of paris, the clear sky, the temperature, almost like that of america, make me light-hearted indeed, yet would that i were again in the far distant, peaceful retreats of my happiest days. europe might whistle for me; i, like a free bird, would sing, "never--no, never, will i leave america." _september ._ i had to take my portfolio to baron cuvier, and i went first to geoffroy de st. hilaire, who liked it much, and retracted his first opinion of the work being too large. monsieur dumesnil, a first-rate engraver, came to see me, sent by prince de massena, and we talked of the work, which he told me honestly could not be published in france _to be delivered in england_ as cheaply as if the work were done in london, and probably not so well. this has ended with me all thoughts of ever removing it from havell's hands, unless he should discontinue the present excellent state of its execution. copper is dearer here than in england, and good colorers much scarcer. i saw cuvier, who invited us to spend the evening, and then returned to the pont des arts to look for bird-skins. i found none, but purchased an engraved portrait of cuvier, and another of "phidias and the thorn." i have just returned with swainson from baron cuvier's, who gives public receptions to scientific men every saturday. my book was on the table; cuvier received me with special kindness, and put me at my ease. mademoiselle cuvier i found remarkably agreeable, as also monsieur de condillot. the first very willingly said he would sit to parker for his portrait, and the other told me that if i went to italy, i must make his house my home. my work was seen by many, and cuvier pronounced it the finest of its kind in existence. _september , sunday._ versailles, where we have spent our day, is truly a magnificent place; how long since i have been here, and how many changes in my life since those days! we first saw the orangerie, of about two hundred trees, that to frenchmen who have never left paris look well, but to me far from it, being martyrized by the hand of man, who has clipped them into stiff ovals. one is years old. they produce no golden fruit, as their boxes are far too small to supply sufficient nourishment, and their fragrant blossoms are plucked to make orange-flower water. from this spot the woods, the hunting-grounds of the king, are seen circling the gardens, and are (we are told) filled with all kinds of game. the king's apartments, through which we afterwards went, are too full of gilding for my eyes, and i frequently resorted to the large windows to glance at the green trees. amongst the paintings i admired most little virginia and paul standing under a palm-tree with their mothers; paul inviting the lovely child to cross a brook. in the stables are a hundred beautiful horses, the choice of arabia, australasia, normandy, limousin, etc., each the model of his race, with fiery eyes, legs sinewy and slender, tails to the ground, and manes never curtailed. among them still remain several that have borne the great napoleon. from here we walked again through woods and gardens; thus, my lucy, once more have i been at versailles, and much have i enjoyed it. _september ._ france, my dearest friend, is indeed poor! this day i have attended at the royal academy of sciences, and had all my plates spread over the different large tables, and they were viewed by about one hundred persons. "beau! bien beau!" issued from every mouth, but, "quel ouvrage!" "quel prix!" as well. i said that i had thirty subscribers at manchester; they seemed surprised, but acknowledged that england, the little isle of england, alone was able to support poor audubon. poor france! thy fine climate, thy rich vineyards, and the wishes of the learned avail nothing; thou art a destitute beggar, and not the powerful friend thou wast represented to be. now i see plainly how happy, or lucky, or prudent i was, not to follow friend melly's enthusiastic love of country. had i come first to france my work never would have had even a beginning; it would have perished like a flower in october. it happened that a gentleman who saw me at versailles yesterday remembered my face, and spoke to me; he is the under secretary of this famous society, and he wrote for me a note to be presented to the minister of the interior, who has, i am told, the power to subscribe to anything, and for as many copies of any work as the farmers of france can well pay for through the enormous levies imposed on them. cuvier, st. hilaire, and many others spoke to me most kindly. i had been to cuvier in the morning to talk with him and parker about the portrait the latter is to paint, and i believe i will describe cuvier's house to thee. the footman asked us to follow him upstairs, and in the first room we caught a glimpse of a slight figure dressed all in black, that glided across the floor like a sylph; it was mlle. cuvier, not quite ready to see gentlemen: off she flew like a dove before falcons. we followed our man, who continually turned, saying, "this way, gentlemen." eight rooms we passed filled with books, and each with a recessed bed, and at last reached a sort of laboratory, the _sanctum sanctorum_ of cuvier; there was nothing in it but books and skeletons of animals, reptiles, etc. our conductor, surprised, bid us sit down, and left us to seek the baron. my eyes were fully employed, and i contemplated in imagination the extent of the great man's knowledge. his books were in great disorder, and i concluded that he read and studied them, and owned them for other purposes than for show. our man returned and led us back through the same avenue of bed-chambers, lined with books instead of satin, and we were conducted through the kitchen to another laboratory, where the baron was found. politeness in great men is shown differently from the same quality in fashionable society: a smile suffices to show you are welcome, without many words, and the work in hand is continued as if you were one of the family. ah! how i delight in this! and how pleased i was to be thus welcomed by this learned man. cuvier was looking at a small lizard in a tiny vial filled with spirit. i see now his sparkling eye half closed, as if quizzing its qualities, and as he put it down he wrote its name on a label. he made an appointment with mr. parker, and went on quizzing lizards. being desirous of seeing a gambling house, young geoffroy took me to one in the palais royal, a very notorious one, containing several roulette tables, and there we saw a little of the tactics of the gentlemen of the trade. the play, however, was not on this occasion high. the _banquiers_, or head thieves, better call them, are lank and pale, their countenances as unmoved as their hearts. from here we went to the establishment of franconi, where i saw wonderful feats of horsemanship. _september ._ there is absolutely nothing to be done here to advance my subscription list, and at two o'clock i went with swainson to a _marchand naturaliste_ to see some drawings of birds of which i had heard. they were not as well drawn as mine, but much better painted. _september ._ i went to install parker at baron cuvier's. he had his canvas, etc., all ready and we arrived at half-past nine, too early quite. at ten, having spent our time in the apartment of the giraffe, parker went in to take a second breakfast, and i to converse with mlle. cuvier. the baron came in, and after a few minutes to arrange about the light, sat down in a comfortable arm-chair, quite ready. great men as well as great women have their share of vanity, and i soon discovered that the baron thinks himself a fine-looking man. his daughter seemed to know this, and remarked more than once that her father's under lip was swelled more than usual, and she added that the line of his nose was extremely fine. i passed my fingers over mine, and, lo! i thought just the same. i see the baron now, quite as plainly as i did this morning; an old green surtout about him, a neck-cloth, that might well surround his body if unfolded, loosely tied about his chin, and his silver locks like those of a man more bent on studying books than on visiting barbers. his fine eyes shot fire from under his bushy eyebrows, and he smiled as he conversed with me. mlle. cuvier, asked to read to us, and opening a book, read in a clear, well accentuated manner a comic play, well arranged to amuse us for a time, for sitting for a portrait is certainly a great bore. the baroness joined us; i thought her looks not those of a happy person, and her melancholy affected me. the baron soon said he was fatigued, rose and went out, but soon returned, and i advised parker not to keep him too long. the time was adjourned to sunday next. in connecticut this would be thought horrible, in england it would be difficult to effect it, and in paris it is considered the best day for such things. again i went to the louvre, and this evening went with young geoffroy to the celebrated frascati. this house is a handsome hôtel, and we were introduced by two servants in fine livery into a large wainscoted room, where a roulette table was at work. now none but _gentlemen_ gamble here. we saw, and saw only! in another room _rouge et noir_ was going on, and the double as well as the single napoleons easily changed hands, yet all was smiling and serene. some wealthy personage drew gold in handsful from his pockets, laid it on a favorite spot, and lost it calmly, more than once. ladies also resort to this house, and good order is always preserved; without a white cravat, shoes instead of boots, etc., no one is admitted. i soon became tired of watching this and we left. _september ._ friend swainson requested me to go with him this morning to complete a purchase of skins, and this accomplished i called on m. milbert, to whom i had a letter from my old friend le sueur,[ ] but he was absent. i now went to the jardin du roi, and at the library saw the so-called fine drawings of mr. h----. lucy, they were just such drawings as our boy johnny made before i left home, stiff and dry as a well-seasoned fiddle-stick. the weather and the sky are most charming. this evening m. cainard, whom i have met several times, asked me to play billiards with him, but the want of practice was such that i felt as if i never had played before. where is the time gone when i was considered one of the best of players? to-morrow i will try to see m. redouté.[ ] _september ._ i had the pleasure of seeing old redouté this morning, the flower-painter _par excellence_. after reading le sueur's note to him, dated five years ago, he looked at me fixedly, and said, "well, sir, i am truly glad to become acquainted with you," and without further ceremony showed me his best works. his flowers are grouped with peculiar taste, well drawn and precise in the outlines, and colored with a pure brilliancy that depicts nature incomparably better than i ever saw it before. old redouté dislikes all that is not _nature alone_; he cannot bear either the drawings of stuffed birds or of quadrupeds, and evinced a strong desire to see a work wherein nature was delineated in an animated manner. he said that as he dined every friday at the duke of orleans', he would take my work there next week, and procure his subscription, if not also that of the duchess, and requested me to give him a prospectus. i looked over hundreds of his drawings, and found out that he sold them well; he showed me some worth two hundred and fifty guineas. on my way to the comte de lasterie, i met the under secretary of the king's private library, who told me that the baron de la bouillerie had given orders to have my work inspected and if approved of to subscribe to it. i reached the comte de lasterie's house, found him half dressed, very dirty, and not very civil. he was at breakfast with several gentlemen, and told me to call again, which i will take into _consideration_. i must not forget that in crossing the city this morning i passed through the flower market, a beautiful exhibition to me at all times. this market is abundantly supplied twice a week with exotics and flowers of all sorts, which are sold at a cheap rate. _september ._ the weather is still beautiful, and parker and i took the omnibus at the pont des arts, which vehicle, being sunday, was crowded. i left parker to make a second sitting with cuvier, and went to the jardin du roi, already filled with pleasure-seekers. i took a seat beside a venerable old soldier, and entered into conversation with him. soldier during more than thirty years, he had much to relate. the moscow campaign was spoken of, and i heard from the lips of this veteran the sufferings to which napoleon's armies had been exposed. he had been taken prisoner, sent to the interior for two years, fed on musty bread by the cossacks, who forced them to march all day. he had lost his toes and one ear by the frost, and sighed, as he said, "and to lose the campaign after all this!" i offered him a franc, and to my surprise he refused it, saying he had his pension, and was well fed. the garden was now crowded, children were scrambling for horse-chestnuts, which were beginning to fall, ladies playing battledore and shuttlecock, venders of fruit and lemonade were calling their wares, and i was interested and amused by all. now to baron cuvier again. i found him sitting in his arm-chair; a gentleman was translating the dedication of linné (linnæus) to him, as he was anxious that the latin should not be misconstrued; he often looked in some book or other, and i dare say often entirely forgot parker, who notwithstanding has laid in a good likeness. the baron wishes me to be at the institute to-morrow at half-past one. _september ._ i was at the institute at half-past one--no baron there. i sat opposite the clock and counted minutes one after another; the clock ticked on as if i did not exist; i began the counting of the numerous volumes around me, and as my eyes reached the centre of the hall they rested on the statue of voltaire; he too had his share of troubles. savants entered one after another; many bowed to me, and passed to their seats. my thoughts journeyed to america; i passed from the missouri to the roanoke, to the hudson, to the great lakes--then floated down the gentle ohio, and met the swift mississippi which would carry me to thee. the clock vibrated in my ears, it struck two, and i saw again that i was in an immense library, where the number of savants continually increased, but no cuvier; i tried to read, but could not; now it was half-past two; i was asked several times if i was waiting for the baron, and was advised to go to his house, but like a sentinel true to his post i sat firm and waited. all at once i heard his voice, and saw him advancing, very warm and apparently fatigued. he met me with many apologies, and said, "come with me;" and we walked along, he explaining all the time why he had been late, while his hand drove a pencil with great rapidity, and he told me that he was actually _now_ writing the report on my work!! i thought of la fontaine's fable of the turtle and the hare; i was surprised that so great a man should leave till the last moment the writing of a report to every word of which the forty critics of france would lend an attentive ear. for being on such an eminence he has to take more care of his actions than a common individual, to prevent his fall, being surrounded, as all great men are more or less, by envy and malice. my enormous book lay before him, and i shifted as swift as lightning the different plates that he had marked for examination. his pencil moved as constantly and as rapidly. he turned and returned the sheets of his manuscript with amazing accuracy, and noted as quickly as he saw, _and he saw all_. we were both wet with perspiration. it wanted but a few minutes of three when we went off to the council room, cuvier still writing, and bowing to every one he met. i left him, and was glad to get into the pure air. at my lodgings i found a card asking me to go to the messageries royales, and i went at once, thinking perhaps it was my numbers from london; but no such thing. my name was asked, and i was told that orders had been received to remit me ten francs, the coach having charged me for a seat better than the one i had had. this is indeed honesty. when i asked the gentleman how he had found out my lodgings, he smiled, and answered that he knew every stranger in paris that had arrived for the last three months, through his line of employees, and that any police-officer was able to say how i spent my time. _september ._ the great gérard, the pupil of my old master, david, has written saying he wishes to see my work, and myself also, and i have promised to go to-morrow evening at nine. to-day i have been to the king's library, a fine suite of twelve rooms, filled with elegant and most valuable copies of all the finest works. i should suppose that a hundred thousand volumes are contained here, as well as portfolios filled with valuable originals of the first masters. the king seldom reads, but he shoots well. napoleon read, or was read to, constantly, and hardly knew how to hold a gun. i was surprised when i spoke of charles bonaparte to notice that no response was made, and the conversation was abruptly turned from ornithologists to engraving. i have now been nearly three weeks in paris and have _two_ subscribers--almost as bad as glasgow. i am curious to see the baron's report, and should like to have it in his own handwriting. this is hardly possible; he seldom writes, mlle. cuvier does his writing for him. _september ._ to have seen me trot about from pillar to post, across this great town, from back of the palais royal to the jardin du luxembourg, in search of m. le médecin bertrand and a copy of cuvier's report, would have amused any one, and yet i did it with great activity. such frailty does exist in man, all of whom are by nature avaricious of praise. three times did i go in vain to each place, _i. e._, to the house in the rue d'enfans, and the globe office, three miles asunder. fatigue at last brought me to bay, and i gave up the chase. i proceeded to the king's library. my work had had the honor to have been inspected by the committee, who had passed a favorable judgment on its merits. i was informed that should the king subscribe, i must leave in france a man authorized by act of attorney to receive my dues, without which i might never have a sol. the librarian, a perfect gentleman, told me this in friendship, and would have added (had he dared) that kings are rarely expected to pay. i, however, cut the matter short, knowing within myself that, should i not receive my money, i was quite able to keep the work. in the evening i dressed to go to m. gérard's with m. valenciennes; but he did not come, so there must have been some mistake--probably mine. _september ._ went with swainson to the panthéon, to see if the interior corresponds with the magnificence of the exterior; it is fine, but still unfinished. all, or almost all, the public edifices of paris far surpass those of london. then to see cuvier, who was sitting for his portrait, while the baroness was reading to him the life of garrick. he had known mrs. garrick, and his observations were interesting. the likeness is good, and cuvier is much pleased with it; he gave me a note for m. vallery the king's librarian. parker had received a note from m. valenciennes, saying he had forgot my address, and had spent the evening going from place to place searching for me, and requested i would go with him to gérard next thursday. did he forget to question the all-knowing police, or did the gentleman at the messageries exaggerate? _september ._ i spent some time in the louvre examining _very closely_ the most celebrated pictures of animals, birds, fruits, and flowers. afterwards we all went to the french opera, or, as it is called here, l'École de musique royale. the play was "la muette," a wonderful piece, and the whole arrangement of the performance still more so. there were at one time two hundred persons on the stage. the scenery was the finest i have ever beheld,--at the last, mount vesuvius in full and terrific eruption; the lava seemed absolutely to roll in a burning stream down the sides of the volcano, and the stones which were apparently cast up from the earth added to the grand representation. the whole house resounded with the most vociferous applause, and we enjoyed our evening, i assure thee. _september ._ found old redouté at his painting. the size of my portfolio surprised him, and when i opened the work, he examined it most carefully, and spoke highly of it, and wished he could afford it. i proposed, at last, that we should exchange works, to which he agreed gladly, and gave me at once nine numbers of his "belles fleurs" and promised to send "les roses." now, my lucy, this will be a grand treat for thee, fond of flowers as thou art; when thou seest these, thy eyes will feast on the finest thou canst imagine. from here to the globe office, where i saw the _rédacteur_ who was glad to have me correct the proof sheets as regarded the technical names. i did so, and he gave me, to my delight, the original copy of cuvier himself. it is a great eulogium certainly, but not so feelingly written as the one by swainson, nevertheless it will give the french an idea of my work. _september ._ i have lived many years, and have only seen one horse race. perhaps i should not have seen that, which took place to-day at the champ de mars, had i not gone out of curiosity with m. vallery. the champ de mars is on the south side of the seine, about one and one half miles below paris; we passed through les jardins des tuileries, followed the river, and crossed the pont de jéna opposite the entrance to l'École militaire, situated at the farther end of the oval that forms the champ de mars. this is a fine area, and perfectly level, surrounded by a levee of earth, of which i should suppose the material was taken from the plain on which the course is formed. arriving early, we walked round it; saw with pleasure the trees that shaded the walks; the booths erected for the royal family, the prefect, the gentry, and the _canaille_, varying greatly in elegance, as you may suppose. chairs and benches were to be hired in abundance, and we each took one. at one o'clock squadrons of _gens d'armes_ and whole regiments of infantry made their appearance from different points, and in a few minutes the whole ground was well protected. the king was expected, but i saw nothing of him, nor, indeed, of any of the royal family, and cannot even assert that they came. at two every seat was filled, and several hundreds of men on horseback had taken the centre of the plain divided from the race track by a line of ropes. the horses for the course made their appearance,--long-legged, slender-bodied, necks straight, light of foot, and fiery-eyed. they were soon mounted, and started, but i saw none that i considered swift; not one could have run half as fast as a buck in our woods. five different sets were run, one after another, but i must say i paid much greater attention to a mameluke on a dark arab steed, which with wonderful ease leaped over the ground like a squirrel; going at times like the wind, then, being suddenly checked by his rider, almost sat on his haunches, wheeled on his hind legs, and cut all sorts of mad tricks at a word from his skilful master. i would rather see _him_ again than all the races in the world; horse racing, like gambling, can only amuse people who have nothing better to attend to; however, i have seen a race! _september ._ i saw constant, the great engraver, rue percie, no. ; he was at work, and i thought he worked well. i told him the purpose of my visit, and he dropped his work at once to see mine. how he stared! how often he exclaimed, "oh, mon dieu, quel ouvrage!" i showed him all, and he began calculating, but did so, far too largely for me, and we concluded no bargain. old redouté visited me and brought me a letter from the duc d'orléans, whom i was to call upon at one o'clock. now, dearest friend, as i do not see dukes every day i will give thee a circumstantial account of my visit. the palais of the duc d'orléans is actually the entrance of the palais-royal, where we often go in the evening, and is watched by many a sentinel. on the right, i saw a large, fat, red-coated man through the ground window, whom i supposed the porter of his royal highness. i entered and took off my fur cap, and went on in an unconcerned way towards the stairs, when he stopped me, and asked my wishes. i told him i had an engagement with his master at one, and gave him my card to take up. he said monseigneur was not in (a downright lie), but that i might go to the antechamber. i ordered the fat fellow to have my portfolio taken upstairs, and proceeded to mount the finest staircase my feet have ever trod. the stairs parted at bottom in rounding form of about twenty-four feet in breadth, to meet on the second floor, on a landing lighted by a skylight, which permitted me to see the beauties of the surrounding walls, and on this landing opened three doors, two of which i tried in vain to open. the third, however, gave way, and i found myself in the antechamber, with about twelve servants, who all rose and stood, until i had seated myself on a soft, red-velvet-covered bench. not a word was said to me, and i gazed at all of them with a strange sensation of awkwardness mingled with my original pride. this room had bare walls, and a floor of black and white square marble flags. a man i call a sergeant d'armes, not knowing whether i am right or wrong, wore a sword fastened to a belt of embroidered silk, very wide; and he alone retained his hat. in a few minutes a tall, thin gentleman made his entrance from another direction from that by which i had come. the servants were again all up in a moment, the sergeant took off his hat, and the gentleman disappeared as if he had not seen me, though i had risen and bowed. a few minutes elapsed, when the same thing occurred again. not knowing how long this might continue, i accosted the sergeant, told him i came at the request of the duke, and wished to see him. a profound bow was the answer, and i was conducted to another room, where several gentlemen were seated writing. i let one of them know my errand, and in a moment was shown into an immense and superbly furnished apartment, and my book was ordered to be brought up. in this room i bowed to two gentlemen whom i knew to be members of the légion d'honneur, and walked about admiring the fine marble statues and the paintings. a gentleman soon came to me, and asked if perchance my name was audubon? i bowed, and he replied: "bless me, we thought that you had gone and left your portfolio; my uncle has been waiting for you twenty minutes; pray, sir, follow me." we passed through a file of bowing domestics, and a door being opened i saw the duke coming towards me, to whom i was introduced by the nephew. lucy, kentucky, tennessee, and alabama have furnished the finest men in the world, as regards physical beauty; i have also seen many a noble-looking osage chief; but i do not recollect a finer-looking man, in form, deportment, and manners, than this duc d'orléans. he had my book brought up, and helped me to untie the strings and arrange the table, and began by saying that he felt a great pleasure in subscribing to the work of an american, for that he had been most kindly treated in the united states, and should never forget it. the portfolio was at last opened, and when i held up the plate of the baltimore orioles, with a nest swinging amongst the tender twigs of the yellow poplar, he said: "this surpasses all i have seen, and i am not astonished now at the eulogiums of m. redouté." he spoke partly english, and partly french; spoke much of america, of pittsburgh, the ohio, new orleans, the mississippi, steamboats, etc., etc., and added: "you are a great nation, a wonderful nation." the duke promised me to write to the emperor of austria, king of sweden, and other crowned heads, and asked me to write to-day to the minister of the interior. i remained talking with him more than an hour; i showed him my list of english subscribers, many of whom he knew. i asked him for his own signature; he took my list and with a smile wrote, in very large and legible characters, "le duc d'orléans." i now felt to remain longer would be an intrusion, and thanking him respectfully i bowed, shook hands with him, and retired. he wished to keep the set i had shown him, but it was soiled, and to such a good man a good set must go. at the door i asked the fat porter if he would tell me again his master was out. he tried in vain to blush. _october ._ received to-day the note from the minister of the interior asking me to call to-morrow at two. at eight in the evening i was ready for m. valenciennes to call for me to go with him to gérard. i waited till ten, when my gentleman came, and off we went; what a time to pay a visit! but i was told gérard[ ] keeps late hours, rarely goes to bed before two, but is up and at work by ten or eleven. when i entered i found the rooms filled with both sexes, and my name being announced, a small, well-formed man came to me, took my hand, and said, "welcome, brother in arts." i liked this much, and was gratified to have the ice broken so easily. gérard was all curiosity to see my drawings, and old redouté, who was present, spoke so highly of them before the book was opened, that i feared to discover gérard's disappointment. the book opened accidentally at the plate of the parrots, and gérard, taking it up without speaking, looked at it, i assure thee, with as keen an eye as my own, for several minutes; put it down, took up the one of the mocking-birds, and, offering me his hand, said: "mr. audubon, you are the king of ornithological painters; we are all children in france and in europe. who would have expected such things from the woods of america?" my heart thrilled with pride at his words. are not we of america men? have we not the same nerves, sinews, and mental faculties which other nations possess? by washington! we have, and may god grant us the peaceable use of them forever. i received compliments from all around me; gérard spoke of nothing but my work, and requested some prospectuses for italy. he repeated what baron cuvier had said in the morning, and hoped that the minister would order a good, round set of copies for the government. i closed the book, and rambled around the rooms which were all ornamented with superb prints, mostly of gérard's own paintings. the ladies were all engaged at cards, and money did not appear to be scarce in this portion of paris. _october ._ well, my lucy, this day found me, about two o'clock, in contemplation of a picture by gérard in the salon of the minister of the interior. very different, is it not, from looking up a large decaying tree, watching the movements of a woodpecker? i was one of several who were waiting, but only one person was there when i arrived, who entered into conversation with me,--a most agreeable man and the king's physician, possessed of fine address and much learning, being also a good botanist. half an hour elapsed, when the physician was called; he was absent only a few minutes, and returning bowed to me and smiled as my name was called. i found the minister a man about my own age, apparently worn out with business; he wore a long, loose, gray surtout, and said, "well, sir, i am glad to see you; where is your great work?" i had the portfolio brought in, and the plates were exhibited. "really, monsieur, it is a very fine thing;" and after some questions and a little conversation he asked me to write to him again, and put my terms in writing, and he would reply as soon as possible. he looked at me very fixedly, but so courteously i did not mind it. i tied up my portfolio and soon departed, having taken as much of the time of m. de marignac as i felt i could do at this hour. _october ._ went with swainson to the jardin du roi to interpret for him, and afterwards spent some time with geoffroy de st. hilaire, hearing from him some curious facts respecting the habits and conformation of the mole. he gave me a ticket to the distribution of the grand prix at the institut. i then ascended four of the longest staircases i know, to reach the cabinet of m. pascale, the director of the expenses of s.a.r. the duc d'orléans. what order was here! different bookcases contained the papers belonging to the forests--horses--furniture--fine arts--libraries--fisheries--personal expenses, and so on. m. pascale took out m. redouté's letter, and i perceived the day of subscription, number of plates per annum, all, was noted on the margin. m. pascale sent me to the private apartments of the duchesse. judge of my astonishment when i found this house connected with the palais-royal. i went through a long train of corridors, and reached the cabinet of m. goutard. he took my name and heard my request and promised to make an appointment for me through m. redouté, who is the drawing-master of the daughters of the duchesse. with parker i went to see the distribution of prizes at l'institut français. the entrance was crowded, and, as in france pushing and scrambling to get forward is out of the question, and very properly so, i think, we reached the amphitheatre when it was already well filled with a brilliant assemblage, but secured places where all could be seen. the members dress in black trimmed with rich green laces. the youths aspiring to rewards were seated round a table, facing the audience. the reports read, the prizes were given, those thus favored receiving a crown of laurel with either a gold or silver medal. we remained here from two till five. _sunday, october ._ after a wonderful service at notre dame i wandered through les jardins des plantes, and on to cuvier's, who had promised me a letter to some one who would, he thought, subscribe to my book; but with his usual procrastination it was not ready, and he said he would write it to-morrow. oh, cursed to-morrow! do men forget, or do they not know how swiftly time moves on? _october ._ scarce anything to write. no letter yet from the minister of the interior, and i fear he too is a "to-morrow man." i went to cuvier for his letter; when he saw me he laughed, and told me to sit down and see his specimens for a little while; he was surrounded by reptiles of all sorts, arranging and labelling them. in half an hour he rose and wrote the letter for me to the duke of levis, but it was too late to deliver it to-day. _october ._ while with m. lesson to-day, he spoke of a monsieur d'orbigny[ ] of la rochelle; and on my making some inquiries i discovered he was the friend of my early days, my intimate companion during my last voyage from france to america; that he was still fond of natural history, and had the management of the musée at la rochelle. his son charles, now twenty-one, i had held in my arms many times, and as m. lesson said he was in paris, i went at once to find him; he was out, but shortly after i had a note from him saying he would call to-morrow morning. _october ._ this morning i had the great pleasure of receiving my god-son charles d'orbigny. oh! what past times were brought to my mind. he told me he had often heard of me from his father, and appeared delighted to meet me. he, too, like the rest of his family, is a naturalist, and i showed him my work with unusual pleasure. his father was the most intimate friend i have ever had, except thee, my lucy, and my father. i think i must have asked a dozen times to-day if no letter had come for me. oh, ministers! what patience you do teach artists! _october ._ this afternoon, as i was despairing about the ministers, i received a note from vicomte siméon,[ ] desiring i should call on monday. i may then finish with these high dignitaries. i saw the king and royal family get out of their carriages at the tuileries; bless us! what a show! carriages fairly glittering--eight horses in each, and two hundred hussars and outriders. a fine band of music announced their arrival. dined at baron cuvier's, who subscribed to my work; he being the father of all naturalists, i felt great pleasure at this. i left at eleven, the streets dark and greasy, and made for the shortest way to my hotel, which, as paris is a small town compared to london, i found no difficulty in doing. i am astonished to see how early all the shops close here. _october ._ at twelve o'clock i was seated in the antechamber of the vicomte siméon; when the sergeant perceived me he came to me and said that m. siméon desired me to have the first interview. i followed him and saw a man of ordinary stature, about forty, fresh-looking, and so used to the courtesy of the great world that before i had opened my lips he had paid me a very handsome compliment, which i have forgot. the size of my work astonished him, as it does every one who sees it for the first time. he told me that the work had been under discussion, and that he advised me to see baron de la brouillerie and baron vacher, the secretary of the dauphin. i told him i wished to return to england to superintend my work there, and he promised i should have the decision to-morrow (hated word!) or the next day. i thought him kind and complaisant. he gave the signal for my departure by bowing, and i lifted my book, as if made of feathers, and passed out with swiftness and alacrity. i ordered the cab at once to the tuileries, and after some trouble found the cabinet of the baron de vacher; there, lucy, i really waited like a blue heron on the edge of a deep lake, the bottom of which the bird cannot find, nor even know whether it may turn out to be good fishing. many had their turns before me, but i had my interview. the baron, a fine young man about twenty-eight, promised me to do all he could, but that his master was allowed so much (how much i do not know), and his expenses swallowed all. _october ._ accompanied parker while he was painting redouté's portrait, and during the outlining of that fine head i was looking over the original drawings of the great man; never have i seen drawings more beautifully wrought up, and so true to nature. the washy, slack, imperfect messes of the british artists are _nothing_ in comparison. i remained here three hours, which i enjoyed much. _october ._ not a word from the minister, and the time goes faster than i like, i assure thee. could the minister know how painful it is for an individual like me to wait nearly a month for a decision that might just as well have been concluded in one minute, i am sure things would be different. _october ._ i have seen two ministers this day, but from both had only promises. but this day has considerably altered my ideas of ministers. i have had a fair opportunity of seeing how much trouble they have, and how necessary it is to be patient with them. i arrived at baron de la brouillerie's at half-past eleven. a soldier took my portfolio, that weighs nearly a hundred pounds, and showed me the entrance to a magnificent antechamber. four gentlemen and a lady were there, and after they had been admitted and dismissed, my name was called. the baron is about sixty years old; tall, thin, not handsome, red in the face, and stiff in his manners. i opened my book, of which he said he had read much in the papers, and asked me why i had not applied to him before. i told him i had written some weeks ago. this he had forgot, but now remembered, somewhat to his embarrassment. he examined every sheet very closely, said he would speak to the king, and i must send him a written and exact memorandum of everything. he expressed surprise the duc d'orléans had taken only one copy. i walked from here to vicomte siméon. it was his audience day, and in the antechamber twenty-six were already waiting. my seat was close to the door of his cabinet, and i could not help hearing some words during my penance, which lasted one hour and a half. the vicomte received every one with the same words, "monsieur (or madame), j'ai l'honneur de vous saluer;" and when each retired, "monsieur, je suis votre très humble serviteur." conceive, my lucy, the situation of this unfortunate being, in his cabinet since eleven, repeating these sentences to upwards of one hundred persons, answering questions on as many different subjects. what brains he must have, and--how long can he keep them? as soon as i entered he said: "your business is being attended to, and i give you _my word_ you shall have your answer on tuesday. have you seen barons vacher and la brouillerie?" i told him i had, and he wished me success as i retired. _october ._ about twelve walked to the plains d'issy to see the review of the troops by the king in person. it is about eight miles from that portion of paris where i was, and i walked it with extreme swiftness, say five and a half miles per hour. the plain is on the south bank of the seine, and almost level. some thousands of soldiers were already ranged in long lines, handsomely dressed, and armed as if about to be in action. i made for the top of a high wall, which i reached at the risk of breaking my neck, and there, like an eagle on a rock, i surveyed all around me. the carriage of the duc d'orléans came first at full gallop, all the men in crimson liveries, and the music struck up like the thunder of war. then the king, all his men in white liveries, came driving at full speed, and followed by other grandees. the king and these gentry descended from their carriages and mounted fine horses, which were in readiness for them; they were immediately surrounded by a brilliant staff, and the review began, the duchesses d'orléans and de berry having now arrived in open carriages; from my perch i saw all. the swiss troops began, and the manoeuvres were finely gone through; three times i was within twenty-five yards of the king and his staff, and, as a kentuckian would say, "could have closed his eye with a rifle bullet." he is a man of small stature, pale, not at all handsome, and rode so bent over his horse that his appearance was neither kingly nor prepossessing. he wore a three-cornered hat, trimmed with white feathers, and had a broad blue sash from the left shoulder under his right arm. the duc d'orléans looked uncommonly well in a hussar uniform, and is a fine rider; he sat his horse like a turk. the staff was too gaudy; i like not so much gold and silver. none of the ladies were connections of venus, except most distantly; few frenchwomen are handsome. the review over, the king and his train rode off. i saw a lady in a carriage point at me on the wall; she doubtless took me for a large black crow. the music was uncommonly fine, especially that by the band belonging to the cuirassiers, which was largely composed of trumpets of various kinds, and aroused my warlike feelings. the king and staff being now posted at some little distance, a new movement began, the cannon roared, the horses galloped madly, the men were enveloped in clouds of dust and smoke; this was a sham battle. no place of retreat was here, no cover of dark woods, no deep swamp; there would have been no escape here. this was no battle of new orleans, nor tippecanoe. i came down from my perch, leaving behind me about thirty thousand idlers like myself, and the soldiers, who must have been hot and dusty enough. _october ._ nothing to do, and tired of sight-seeing. four subscriptions in seven weeks. slow work indeed. i took a long walk, and watched the stock pigeons or cushats in the trees of le jardin des tuileries, where they roost in considerable numbers, arriving about sunset. they settle at first on the highest trees, and driest, naked branches, then gradually lower themselves, approach the trunks of the trees, and thickest parts, remain for the night, leave at day-break, and fly northerly. blackbirds do the same, and are always extremely noisy before dark; a few rooks are seen, and two or three magpies. in the jardin, and in the walks of the palais-royal, the common sparrow is prodigiously plenty, very tame, fed by ladies and children, killed or missed with blow-guns by mischievous boys. the mountain finch passes in scattered numbers over paris at this season, going northerly, and is caught in nets. now, my love, wouldst thou not believe me once more in the woods, hard at it? alas! i wish i was; what precious time i am wasting in europe. _october ._ redouté told me the young duchesse d'orléans had subscribed, and i would receive a letter to that effect. cuvier sent me one hundred printed copies of his _procès verbal_. _october ._ the second day of promise is over, and not a word from either of the ministers. now, do those good gentlemen expect me to remain in paris all my life? they are mistaken. saturday i pack; on tuesday morning farewell to paris. redouté sent me three volumes of his beautiful roses, which thou wilt so enjoy, and a compliment which is beyond all truth, so i will not repeat it. _october ._ i received a letter from baron de la brouillerie announcing that the king had subscribed to my work for his private library. i was visited by the secretary of the duc d'orléans, who sat with me some time, a clever and entertaining man with whom i felt quite at ease. he told me that i might now expect the subscriptions of most of the royal family, because none of them liked to be outdone or surpassed by any of the others.[ ] good god! what a spirit is this; what a world we live in! i also received a m. pitois, who came to look at my book, with a view to becoming my agent here; baron cuvier recommended him strongly, and i have concluded a bargain with him. he thinks he can procure a good number of names. his manners are plain, and i hope he will prove an honest man. he had hardly gone, when i received a letter from m. siméon, telling me the minister of the interior would take six copies for various french towns and universities, and he regretted it was not twelve. so did i, but i am well contented. i have now thirteen subscribers in paris; i have been here two months, and have expended forty pounds. my adieux will now be made, and i shall be _en route_ for london before long. _london, november ._ i travelled from paris to boulogne with two nuns, that might as well be struck off the calendar of animated beings. they stirred not, they spoke not, they saw not; they replied neither by word nor gesture to the few remarks i made. in the woods of america i have never been in such silence; for in the most retired places i have had the gentle murmuring streamlet, or the sound of the woodpecker tapping, or the sweet melodious strains of that lovely recluse, my greatest favorite, the wood thrush. the great poverty of the country struck me everywhere; the peasantry are beggarly and ignorant, few know the name of the _département_ in which they live; their hovels are dirty and uncomfortable, and appear wretched indeed after paris. in paris alone can the refinements of society, education, and the fine arts be found. to paris, or to the large cities, the country gentleman must go, or have nothing; how unlike the beautiful country homes of the english. i doubt not the "new monthly" would cry out: "here is audubon again, in all his extravagance." this may be true, but i write as i think i see, and that is enough to render me contented with my words. the passage from calais was short, and i was free from my usual seasickness, and london was soon reached, where i have been busy with many letters, many friends, and my work. i have presented a copy of my birds to the linnæan society, and sold a little picture for ten guineas. and now i must to work on the pictures that have been ordered in france. _november ._ to-day is of some account, as mr. havell has taken the drawings that are to form the eleventh number of my work. it will be the first number for the year . i have as yet had no answer from the linnæan society, but thou knowest how impatient my poor nature always is. _november ._ i have been painting as much as the short days will allow, but it is very hard for me to do so, as my southern constitution suffers so keenly from the cold that i am freezing on the side farthest from the fire at this very instant. i have finished the two pictures for the duc d'orléans; that of the grouse i regret much to part with, without a copy; however, i may at some future time group another still more naturally. _november ._ we have had such dismal fog in this london that i could scarcely see to write at twelve o'clock; however, i did write nearly all day. it has been extremely cold besides, and in the streets in the middle of the day i saw men carrying torches, so dark it was. _november ._ i anticipated this day sending all my copies for paris, but am sadly disappointed. one of the colorers employed brought a number so shamefully done that i would not think of forwarding it. it has gone to be washed, hot pressed, and done over again. depend upon it, my work will not fail for the want of my own very particular attention. _december ._ after so long neglecting thee, my dear book, it would be difficult to enter a connected account of my time, but i will trace the prominent parts of the lapse. painting every day, and i may well add constantly, has been the main occupation. i have (what i call) finished my two large pictures of the eagle and the lamb, and the dog and the pheasants, and now, as usual, can scarce bear to look at either. my friends the swainsons have often been to see me, and good bentley came and lived with me for a month as a brother would. i parted from him yesterday with pain and regret. several artists have called upon me, and have given me _false praises_, as i have heard afterwards, and i hope they will keep aloof. it is charity to speak the truth to a man who knows the poverty of his talents and wishes to improve; it is villanous to mislead him, by praising him to his face, and laughing at his work as they go down the stairs of his house. i have, however, applied to one whom i _know_ to be candid, and who has promised to see them, and to give his opinion with truth and simplicity; this is no other, my lucy, than the president of the royal academy, sir thomas lawrence. the steady work and want of exercise has reduced me almost to a skeleton; i have not allowed myself the time even to go to the zoölogical gardens. _december ._ i dined yesterday (another christmas day away from my dear country) at a mr. goddard's; our company was formed of americans, principally sea-captains. during my absence sir thomas lawrence came to see my paintings, which were shown to him by mr. havell, who reported as follows. on seeing the eagle and lamb he said, "that is a fine picture." he examined it closely, and was shown that of the pheasants, which i call "_sauve qui peut_." he approached it, looked at it sideways, up and down, and put his face close to the canvas, had it moved from one situation to two others in different lights, but gave no opinion. the otter came next, and he said that the "animal" was very fine, and told havell he would come again to see them in a few days. i paid him my respects the next morning, and thought him kinder than usual. he said he would certainly come to make a choice for me of one to be exhibited at somerset house, and would speak to the council about it. * * * * * the remaining three months before audubon sailed for america, april , , were passed in preparations for his absence from his book, and many pages of his fine, close writing are filled with memoranda for mr. havell, mr. j. g. children, and mr. pitois. audubon writes: "i have made up my mind to go to america, and with much labor and some trouble have made ready. my business is as well arranged for as possible; i have given the agency of my work to my excellent friend children, of the british museum, who kindly offered to see to it during my absence. i have collected some money, paid all my debts, and taken my passage in the packet-ship 'columbia,' captain delano. i chose the ship on account of her name, and paid thirty pounds for my passage. i am about to leave this smoky city for portsmouth, and shall sail on april ." the voyage was uneventful, and america was reached on may . almost immediately began the search for new birds, and those not delineated already, for the continuation and completion of the "birds of america." [illustration: eagle and lamb. painted by audubon, london, . in the possession of the family.] footnotes: [ ] this sounds involved, but is copied verbatim. [ ] mr. wm. rathbone, of the firm of rathbone bros. & co., to whom audubon had a letter from mr. vincent nolté. to messrs. wm. and richard rathbone, and their father wm. rathbone, sr., audubon was more deeply indebted than to any other of his many kind friends in england. their hospitality was only equalled by their constant and valuable assistance in preparing for the publication of the "birds," and when this was an assured fact, they were unresting in their efforts to aid audubon in procuring subscribers. it is with pleasure that audubon's descendants to-day acknowledge this indebtedness to the "family rathbone," which is ever held in grateful remembrance. [ ] william roscoe, historical, botanical, and miscellaneous writer, - . [ ] in a charming letter written to me by mr. richard r. rathbone, son of this gentleman, dated glan y menai, anglesey, may , , he says: "to us there was a halo of romance about mr. audubon, artist, naturalist, quondam backwoodsman, and the author of that splendid work which i used to see on a table constructed to hold the copy belonging to my uncle william, opening with hinges so as to raise the bird portraits as if on a desk. but still more i remember his amiable character, though tinged with melancholy by past sufferings; and his beautiful, expressive face, kept alive in my memory by his autograph crayon sketch thereof, in profile, with the words written at foot, 'audubon at green bank. _almost_ happy, th september, .' mr. audubon painted for my father, as a gift, an otter (in oils) caught by the fore-foot in a steel trap, and after vainly gnawing at the foot to release himself, throwing up his head, probably with a yell of agony, and displaying his wide-open jaws dripping with blood. this picture hung on our walls for years, until my mother could no longer bear the horror of it, and persuaded my father to part with it. we also had a full-length, life-sized portrait of the american turkey, striding through the forest. both pictures went to a public collection in liverpool. i have also a colored sketch by mr. audubon of a robin redbreast, shot by him at green bank, which i saw him pin with long pins into a bit of board to fix it into position for the instruction of my mother." [ ] at green bank. [ ] vincent nolté, born at leghorn, , traveller, merchant, adventurer. [ ] william henry hunt ( - ). [ ] mrs. alexander gordon was mrs. audubon's sister anne. [ ] thomas stewart traill, m.d., scottish naturalist, born in orkney, ; edited the eighth edition of the "encyclopædia britannica," was associated with the royal institute at liverpool; he died . [ ] the swiss historian, born at geneva, , died . [ ] daughter of mr. william rathbone, sr.; married dr. william reynolds. [ ] edward, fourteenth earl of derby, - . member of parliament, chief secretary for ireland, secretary for the colonies, first lord of the treasury, and prime minister. translated homer's iliad into blank verse. his was a life of many interests: literature, art, society, public affairs, sportmanship, and above all "the most perfect orator of his day." [ ] mrs. wm. rathbone, sr., whom audubon often calls "lady rathbone," and also "the queen bee." [ ] muzio clementi, composer and pianist, born in rome, , died in london, . head of the piano firm of that name. [ ] relative of mr. wm. rathbone, sr. [ ] the irwell. [ ] william smyth, - , poet, scholar, and professor of modern history at cambridge. [ ] henry clay. [ ] john randolph of roanoke, - , american orator and statesman. [ ] william s. roscoe, son of william roscoe, - . [ ] i believe mr. robert bentley, the publisher. [ ] robert jameson, the eminent scotch naturalist, - . regius professor of natural history in the university of edinburgh. founder of the wernerian society of that city, and with sir david brewster originated the "edinburgh philosophical review." wrote many works on geology and mineralogy. [ ] andrew duncan, m.d., - . lecturer in the university of edinburgh. [ ] patrick neill, - , scottish naturalist and horticulturalist. was a printer in edinburgh at this time. [ ] prideaux john selby, english ornithologist, author of "british birds" and other works; died . [ ] lord francis jeffrey, - , the distinguished scottish critic and essayist. [ ] sir william jardine. [ ] w. h. lizars, the engraver who made a few of the earliest plates of the "birds of america." [ ] scottish naturalist, - . published "naturalists' library" and other works. [ ] james wilson, brother of professor john wilson (christopher north), naturalist and scientific writer, - . [ ] george combe, an eminent phrenologist and author on that subject. born and died in edinburgh, - . [ ] david bridges, editor of one of the edinburgh newspapers. [ ] john syme. his portrait of audubon was the first one ever engraved. [ ] charles waterton, english naturalist and traveller, - ,--always an enemy of audubon's. [ ] this seal audubon always used afterwards, and it is still in the possession of the family. [ ] robert graham, scottish physician and botanist, born at stirling, , died at edinburgh, . [ ] david brewster, author, scientist, and philosopher, edinburgh, - [ ] dugald stewart, professor of moral philosophy, author, etc., edinburgh, - . [ ] thomas bruce, seventh earl of elgin. - . [ ] wm. forbes skene, scottish historian. [ ] afterwards sir william allan, historical painter; in was elected president of the scottish royal academy, edinburgh. - . [ ] an eminent divine - ; father of dr. john brown, author of "rab and his friends," etc. [ ] william nicholson, first secretary of the scottish academy and portrait painter. - . [ ] traveller and author. - . [ ] robert kaye greville, author of "plants of edinburgh" and other botanical works, - . [ ] this entry begins a new blank book, in shape and size like a ledger, every line of which is closely written. [ ] spencer perceval, born , assassinated in the lobby of the house of commons, may , . [ ] "jan. , . a visit from basil hall with mr. audubon the ornithologist, who has followed that pursuit by many a long wandering in the american forests. he is an american by naturalization, a frenchman by birth, but less of a frenchman than i have ever seen,--no dash, no glimmer or shine about him, but great simplicity of manners and behaviour; slight in person and plainly dressed; wears long hair which time has not yet tinged; his countenance acute, handsome, and interesting, but still simplicity is the predominant characteristic." (journal of sir walter scott, vol. i., p. .) [ ] "january . visit from mr. audubon, who brings some of his birds. the drawings are of the first order--the attitudes of the birds of the most animated character, and the situations appropriate.... this sojourner of the desert had been in the woods for months together. he preferred associating with the indians to the company of the settlers; very justly, i daresay, for a civilized man of the lower order when thrust back on the savage state becomes worse than a savage." (journal of sir walter scott, vol. i., p. .) [ ] sir john leslie, - , scottish geometer and natural philosopher and voluminous author on these subjects. [ ] joseph b. kidd, who later copied many of audubon's birds. [ ] james baillie fraser, - , scottish writer of travels. [ ] mrs. anne grant, poetess and miscellaneous writer. born , died . [ ] this entry is the only one on a large page, of which a facsimile is given. it is written in the centre, and all around the edge of the paper is a heavy black border, an inch in depth. [ ] a distinguished ornithologist said of the book in : "it is one of the few illustrated books, if not the only one, that steadily increases in price as the years go on." [ ] one of the greatest metaphysicians of modern times. born at glasgow , died in edinburgh, . [ ] possibly charles heath, engraver, - . [ ] thomas bewick was at this time nearly seventy-four. he died nov. , , being then past seventy-five. [ ] probably st. mary's abbey. [ ] mr. vernon was the president of the philosophical society of york. [ ] mr. john backhouse. [ ] nearly every entry in all the journals begins and ends with a morning greeting, and an affectionate good-night. these have been omitted with occasional exceptions. [ ] mr. melly. [ ] john george children, - , english physicist and naturalist, at this time secretary of the royal society. [ ] robert inglis, - , of the east india company. [ ] nicholas aylward vigors, - , naturalist, first secretary of the zoölogical society of london. [ ] then a boy not fifteen, who was at bayou sara with his mother. [ ] when found by audubon the havells were in extreme poverty. he provided everything for them, and his publication made them comparatively wealthy. [ ] benson rathbone. [ ] the distance between these places is about two miles. [ ] the duck-billed platypus, _ornithorynchus paradoxus_ of australia.--e. c. [ ] the andean eagle is undoubtedly the harpy, _thrasaëtos harpyia_.--e. c. [ ] françois athanase de charette, a leader of the vendéans against the french republic; executed at nantes, on may , . [ ] children's warbler. plate xxxv. [ ] vigors' warbler. plate xxx. [ ] cuvier's regulus. plate lv. no bird was named after temminck by audubon. [ ] this decision was made in consequence of various newspaper and personal attacks, which, then as now, came largely from people who knew nothing of the matter under consideration. it was a decision, however, never altered except in so far as regards the episodes published in the "ornithological biography." [ ] david don, scottish botanist, - ; at this time librarian of linnæan society. [ ] thomas nuttall, botanist and ornithologist; born in england , died at st. helen's, england, september , . [ ] of all the twenty-six only three are known to be in existence; the other volumes now extant are all of later date. [ ] joshua brookes, - , anatomist and surgeon. [ ] captain (sir) edward sabine accompanied parry's expedition to the arctic regions,--a mathematician, traveller, and fellow of the royal society, . born in dublin, , died in richmond, . [ ] adam sedgwick, geologist. - . [ ] william whewell, - , professor of moral philosophy, mineralogy, and other sciences. [ ] john stevens henslow, botanist, - . [ ] dr. john kidd, - , professor of chemistry and medicine at oxford. [ ] edward burton, d.d., - , professor of divinity at oxford. [ ] william buckland, d.d., - , geologist. [ ] john claudius loudon, - , writer on horticulture and arboriculture. in - , editor of the "magazine of natural history." [ ] edward turner bennett, - , zoölogist. [ ] william swainson, naturalist and writer. born in england , emigrated in to new zealand, where he died . [ ] this picture is still in the family, being owned by one of the granddaughters. [ ] françois levaillant, born at paramaribo, ; died in france, . [ ] john edward gray, - , zoölogist. [ ] no trace of this portrait can be found. [ ] george chrétien léopold frédéric dagobert cuvier, baron, - ; statesman, author, philosopher, and one of the greatest naturalists of modern times. [ ] achille valenciennes, born , french naturalist. [ ] Étienne geoffroy de st. hilaire, - , french naturalist. [ ] rené primevère lesson, a french naturalist and author, born at rochefort, , died . [ ] isidore geoffroy st. hilaire, - , zoölogist. [ ] son of andré, prince d'essling and duc de rivoli, one of the marshals of napoleon. [ ] charles alexandre le sueur, french naturalist. - . [ ] pierre joseph redouté, french painter of flowers. - . [ ] françois gérard, born at rome , died ; the best french portrait painter of his time, distinguished also for historical pictures. [ ] charles d'orbigny, son of audubon's early friend, m. le docteur d'orbigny. [ ] count joseph jérôme siméon, french minister of state. - . [ ] the words of the secretary were fully verified within a few months. the labrador journal introduction the labrador trip, long contemplated, was made with the usual object, that of procuring birds and making the drawings of them for the continuation of the "birds of america," the publication of which was being carried on by the havells, under the supervision of victor, the elder son, who was in london at this time. to him audubon writes from eastport, maine, under date of may , :-- "we are on the eve of our departure for the coast of labrador. our party consists of young dr. george shattuck of boston, thomas lincoln of dennysville, william ingalls, son of dr. ingalls of boston, joseph coolidge, john, and myself. i have chartered a schooner called the 'ripley,' commanded by captain emery, who was at school with my friend lincoln; he is reputed to be a gentleman, as well as a good sailor. coolidge, too, has been bred to the sea, and is a fine, active youth of twenty-one. the schooner is a new vessel, only a year old, of tons, for which we pay three hundred and fifty dollars per month for the entire use of the vessel with the men, but we supply ourselves with provisions.[ ] the hold of the vessel has been floored, and our great table solidly fixed in a tolerably good light under the main hatch; it is my intention to draw whenever possible, and that will be many hours, for the daylight is with us nearly all the time in those latitudes, and the fishermen say you can do with little sleep, the air is so pure. i have been working hard at the birds from the grand menan, as well as john, who is overcoming his habit of sleeping late, as i call him every morning at four, and we have famous long days. we are well provided as to clothes, and strange figures indeed do we cut in our dresses, i promise you: fishermen's boots, the soles of which are all nailed to enable us to keep our footing on the sea-weeds, trousers of _fearnought_ so coarse that our legs look like bears' legs, oiled jackets and over-trousers for rainy weather, and round, white, wool hats with a piece of oil cloth dangling on our shoulders to prevent the rain from running down our necks. a coarse bag is strapped on the back to carry provisions on inland journeys, with our guns and hunting-knives; you can form an idea of us from this. edward harris is not to be with us; this i regret more than i can say. this day seven vessels sailed for the fishing-grounds, some of them not more than thirty tons' burden, for these hardy fishermen care not in what they go; but _i do_, and, indeed, such a boat would be too small for us." the st of june was the day appointed for the start, but various delays occurred which retarded this until the th, when the journal which follows tells its own tale. of all the members of the party mr. joseph coolidge, now ( ) living in san francisco, is the sole survivor. m. r. a. [illustration: audubon. from the portrait by george p. a. healy, london, . now in the possession of the boston society of natural history.] the labrador journal _eastport, maine, june ._ our vessel is being prepared for our reception and departure, and we have concluded to hire two extra sailors and a lad; the latter to be a kind of major-domo, to clean our guns, etc., search for nests, and assist in skinning birds. whilst rambling in the woods this morning, i found a crow's nest, with five young, yet small. as i ascended the tree, the parents came to their offspring crying loudly, and with such perseverance that in less than fifteen minutes upwards of fifty pairs of these birds had joined in their vociferations; yet when first the parents began to cry i would have supposed them the only pair in the neighborhood. _wednesday, june ._ this afternoon, when i had concluded that everything relating to the charter of the "ripley" was arranged, some difficulty arose between myself and mr. buck, which nearly put a stop to our having his vessel. pressed, however, as i was, by the lateness of the season, i gave way and suffered myself to be imposed upon as usual, with a full knowledge that i was so. the charter was signed, and we hoped to have sailed, but to-morrow is now the day appointed. our promised hampton boat is not come. _thursday, june ._ we left the wharf of eastport about one o'clock p. m. every one of the male population came to see the show, just as if no schooner the size of the "ripley" had ever gone from this mighty port to labrador. our numerous friends came with the throng, and we all shook hands as if never to meet again. the batteries of the garrison, and the cannon of the revenue cutter, saluted us, each firing four loud, oft-echoing reports. captain coolidge accompanied us, and indeed was our pilot, until we had passed lubec. the wind was light and ahead, and yet with the assistance of the tide we drifted twenty-five miles, down to little river, during the night, and on rising on the morning of june we were at anchor near some ugly rocks, the sight of which was not pleasing to our good captain. _june ._ the whole morning was spent trying to enter little river, but in vain; the men were unable to tow us in. we landed for a few minutes, and shot a hermit thrush, but the appearance of a breeze brought us back, and we attempted to put to sea. our position now became rather dangerous, as we were drawn by the current nearly upon the rocks; but the wind rose at last, and we cleared for sea. at three o'clock it became suddenly so foggy that we could not see the bowsprit. the night was spent in direful apprehensions of ill luck; at midnight a smart squall decided in our favor, and when day broke on the morning of june the wind was from the northeast, blowing fresh, and we were dancing on the waters, all shockingly sea-sick, crossing that worst of all dreadful bays, the bay of fundy. we passed between the seal islands and the mud islands; in the latter _procellaria wilsonii_, the stormy petrel, breeds abundantly; their nests are dug out of the sand in an oblique direction to the depth of two, or two and a half feet. at the bottom of these holes, and on the sand, the birds deposit their pure white eggs. the holes are perforated, not in the banks like the bank swallow, but are like rat holes over the whole of the islands. on seal islands _larus argentatus_, the herring gull, breeds as abundantly as on grand menan, but altogether _on trees_. as we passed cape sable, so called on account of its being truly a sand-point of some caved-in elevation, we saw a wrecked ship with many small crafts about it. i saw there _uria troile_, the foolish guillemot, and some gannets. the sea was dreadful, and scarcely one of us was able to eat or drink this day. we came up with the schooner "caledonia," from boston for labrador; her captain wished to keep in our company, and we were pretty much together all night and also on sunday. _june ._ we now had a splendid breeze, but a horrid sea, and were scarce able to keep our feet, or sleep. the "caledonia" was very near to us for some time, but when the breeze increased to a gale, and both vessels had to reef, we showed ourselves superior in point of sailing. so good was our run that on the next morning, june , we found ourselves not more than thirty miles from cape canseau, ordinarily called cape cancer. the wind was so fair for proceeding directly to labrador that our captain spoke of doing so, provided it suited my views; but, anxious as i am not to suffer any opportunity to escape of doing all i can to fulfil my engagements, i desired that we should pass through what is called "the gut of canseau," and we came into the harbor of that name[ ] at three of the afternoon. here we found twenty vessels, all bound to labrador, and, of course, all fishermen. we had been in view of the southeastern coast of nova scotia all day, a dreary, poor, and inhospitable-looking country. as we dropped our anchor we had a snowfall, and the sky had an appearance such as i never before recollect having seen. going on shore we found not a tree in blossom, though the low plants near the ground were all in bloom; i saw azaleas, white and blue violets, etc., and in some situations the grass really looked well. the robins were in full song; one nest of that bird was found; the white-throated sparrow and savannah finch were also in full song. the _fringilla nivalis_[ ] was seen, and we were told that _tetrao canadensis_[ ] was very abundant, but saw none. about a dozen houses form this settlement; there was no custom house officer, and not an individual who could give an answer of any value to our many questions. we returned on board and supped on a fine codfish. the remainder of our day was spent in catching lobsters, of which we procured forty. they were secured simply by striking them in shallow water with a gaff-hook. it snowed and rained at intervals, and to my surprise we did not observe a single seabird. _june ._ _larus marinus_ (the great black-backed gull) is so superior both in strength and courage to fulmars, _lestris_, or even gannets, to say nothing of gulls of all sorts, that at its approach they all give way, and until it has quite satiated itself, none venture to approach the precious morsel on which it is feeding. in this respect, it is as the eagle to the vultures or carrion crows. i omitted saying that last night, before we retired to rest, after much cold, snow, rain, and hail, the frogs were piping in all the pools on the shore, and we all could hear them clearly, from the deck of the "ripley." the weather to-day is beautiful, the wind fair, and when i reached the deck at four a. m. we were under way in the wake of the whole of the fleet which last evening graced the harbor of canseau, but which now gave life to the grand bay across which all were gliding under easy pressure of sail. the land locked us in, the water was smooth, the sky pure, and the thermometer was only °, quite cold; indeed, it was more grateful to see the sunshine whilst on deck this morning, and to feel its warmth, than i can recollect before at this season. after sailing for twenty-one miles, and passing one after another every vessel of the fleet, we entered the gut of canseau, so named by the spanish on account of the innumerable wild geese which, in years long past and forgotten, resorted to this famed passage. the land rises on each side in the form of an amphitheatre, and on the nova scotia side, to a considerable height. many _appearances_ of dwellings exist, but the country is too poor for comfort; the timber is small, and the land, very stony. here and there a small patch of ploughed land, planted, or to be planted, with potatoes, was all we could see evincing cultivation. near one house we saw a few apple-trees, yet without leaves. the general appearance of this passage reminded me of some parts of the hudson river, and accompanied as we were by thirty smaller vessels, the time passed agreeably. vegetation about as forward as at eastport; saw a chimney swallow, heard some blue jays, saw some indians in a bark canoe, passed cape porcupine, a high, rounding hill, and cape george, after which we entered the gulf of st. lawrence. from this place, on the th of may last year, the sea was a complete sheet of ice as far as a spy-glass could inform. as we advanced, running parallel with the western coast of cape breton island, the country looked well, at the distance we were from it; the large, undulating hills were scattered with many hamlets, and here and there a bit of cultivated land was seen. it being calm when we reached jestico island, distant from cape breton about three miles, we left the vessel and made for it. on landing we found it covered with well grown grass sprinkled everywhere with the blossoms of the wild strawberry; the sun shone bright, and the weather was quite pleasant. robins, savannah finches, song sparrows, tawny thrushes, and the american redstart were found. the spotted sand-piper, _totanus macularius_, was breeding in the grass, and flew slowly with the common tremor of their wings, uttering their "wheet-wheet-wheet" note, to invite me to follow them. a raven had a nest and three young in it, one standing near it, the old birds not seen. _uria troile_[ ] and _u. grylle_[ ] were breeding in the rocks, and john saw several _ardea herodias_[ ] flying in pairs, also a pair of red-breasted mergansers that had glutted themselves with fish so that they were obliged to disgorge before they could fly off. amongst the plants the wild gooseberry, nearly the size of a green pea, was plentiful, and the black currant, i think of a different species from the one found in maine. the wind rose and we returned on board. john and the sailors almost killed a seal with their oars. _june ._ at four this morning we were in sight of the magdalene islands, or, as they are called on the chart, amherst islands; they appeared to be distant about twenty miles. the weather was dull and quite calm, and i thought the prospect of reaching these isles this day very doubtful, and returned to my berth sadly disappointed. after breakfast a thick fog covered the horizon on our bow, the islands disappeared from sight, and the wind rose sluggishly, and dead ahead. several brigs and ships loaded with lumber out from miramichi came near us, beating their way towards the atlantic. we are still in a great degree land-locked by cape breton island, the highlands of which look dreary and forbidding; it is now nine a. m., and we are at anchor in four fathoms of water, and within a quarter of a mile of an island, one of the general group; for our pilot, who has been here for ten successive years, informs us that all these islands are connected by dry sand-bars, without any other ship channel between them than the one which we have taken, and which is called entrée bay, formed by entrée island and a long, sandy, projecting reef connected with the main island. this latter measures forty-eight miles in length, by an average of about three in breadth; entrée island contains about fifteen hundred acres of land, such as it is, of a red, rough, sandy formation, the northwest side constantly falling into the sea, and exhibiting a very interesting sight. guillemots were seen seated upright along the projecting shelvings in regular order, resembling so many sentinels on the look-out. many gannets also were seen about the extreme point of this island. on amherst island we saw many houses, a small church, and on the highest land a large cross, indicating the catholic tendency of the inhabitants. several small schooners lay in the little harbor called pleasant bay, and we intend to pay them an early visit to-morrow. the wind is so cold that it feels to us all like the middle of december at boston. _magdalene islands, june ._ this day week we were at eastport, and i am sure not one of our party thought of being here this day. at four this morning we were seated at breakfast around our great drawing-table; the thermometer was at °; we blew our fingers and drank our coffee, feeling as if in the very heart of winter, and when we landed i felt so chilled that it would have been quite out of the question to use my hands for any delicate work. we landed between two great bluffs, that looked down upon us with apparent anger, the resort of many a black guillemot and noble raven, and following a tortuous path, suddenly came plump upon one of god's best finished jewels, a woman. she saw us first, for women are always keenest in sight and sympathy, in perseverance and patience, in fortitude, and love, and sorrow, and faith, and, for aught i know, much more. at the instant that my eyes espied her, she was in full run towards her cottage, holding to her bosom a fine babe, simply covered with a very short shirt, the very appearance of which set me shivering. the woman was dressed in coarse french homespun, a close white cotton cap which entirely surrounded her face tied under her chin, and i thought her the wildest-looking woman, both in form and face, i had seen for many a day. at a venture, i addressed her in french, and it answered well, for she responded in a wonderful jargon, about one third of which i understood, and abandoned the rest to a better linguist, should one ever come to the island. she was a plain, good woman, i doubt not, and the wife of an industrious fisherman. we walked through the woods, and followed the _road_ to the church. who would have thought that on these wild islands, among these impoverished people, we should have found a church; that we should have been suddenly confronted with a handsome, youthful, vigorous, black-haired, black-bearded fellow, in a soutane as black as the raven's wedding-dress, and with a heart as light as a bird on the wing? yet we met with both church and priest, and our ears were saluted by the sound of a bell which measures one foot by nine and a half inches in diameter, and weighs thirty pounds; and this bell may be heard a full quarter of a mile. it is a festival day, _la petite fête de dieu_. the chapel was illuminated at six o'clock, and the inhabitants, even from a distance, passed in; among them were many old women, who, staff in hand, had trudged along the country road. their backs were bent by age and toil, their eyes dimmed by time; they crossed their hands upon their breasts, and knelt before the sacred images in the church with so much simplicity and apparent truth of heart that i could not help exclaiming, "this is indeed religion!" the priest, père brunet, is originally from quebec. these islands belong, or are attached, to lower canada; he, however, is under the orders of the bishop of halifax. he is a shrewd-looking fellow, and, if i mistake not, has a dash of the devil in him. he told me there were no reptiles on the island, but this was an error; for, while rambling about, tom lincoln, ingalls, and john saw a snake, and i heard frogs a-piping. he also told me that black and red foxes, and the changeable hare, with rats lately imported, were the only quadrupeds to be found, except cows, horses, and mules, of which some had been brought over many years ago, and which had multiplied, but to no great extent. the land, he assured us, was poor in every respect,--soil, woods, game; that the seal fisheries had been less productive these last years than formerly. on these islands, about a dozen in number, live one hundred and sixty families, all of whom make their livelihood by the cod, herring, and mackerel fisheries. one or two vessels from quebec come yearly to collect this produce of the ocean. not a bird to be found larger than a robin, but certainly thousands of those. père brunet said he lived the life of a recluse, and invited us to accompany him to the house where he boarded, and take a glass of good french wine. during our ramble on the island we found the temperature quite agreeable; indeed, in some situations the sun was pleasant and warm. strawberry blossoms were under our feet at every step, and here and there the grass looked well. i was surprised to find the woods (by woods i mean land covered with any sort of trees, from the noblest magnolia down to dwarf cedars) rich in warblers, thrushes, finches, buntings, etc. the fox-tailed sparrow breeds here, the siskin also. the hermit and tawny thrushes crossed our path every few yards, the black-capped warbler flashed over the pools, the winter wren abounded everywhere. among the water-birds we found the great tern (_sterna hirundo_) very abundant, and shot four of them on the sand-ridges. the piping plover breeds here--shot two males and one female; so plaintive is the note of this interesting species that i feel great aversion to killing them. these birds certainly are the swiftest of foot of any water-birds which i know, of their size. we found many land-snails, and collected some fine specimens of gypsum. this afternoon, being informed that across the bay where we are anchored we might, perhaps, purchase some black fox skins, we went there, and found messieurs muncey keen fellows; they asked £ for black fox and $ . for red. no purchase on our part. being told that geese, brents, mergansers, etc., breed eighteen miles from here, at the eastern extremity of these islands, we go off there to-morrow in boats. saw bank swallows and house swallows. the woods altogether small evergreens, extremely scrubby, almost impenetrable, and swampy beneath. at seven this evening the thermometer is at °. this morning it was °. after our return to the "ripley," our captain, john, tom lincoln, and coolidge went off to the cliffs opposite our anchorage, in search of black guillemots' eggs. this was found to be quite an undertaking; these birds, instead of having to _jump_ or _hop_ from one place to another on the rocks, to find a spot suitable to deposit their spotted egg, as has been stated, are on the contrary excellent walkers, at least upon the rocks, and they can fly from the water to the very entrance of the holes in the fissures, where the egg is laid. sometimes this egg is deposited not more than eight or ten feet above high-water mark, at other times the fissure in the rock which has been chosen stands at an elevation of a hundred feet or more. the egg is laid on the bare rock without any preparation, but when the formation is sandy, a certain scoop is indicated on the surface. in one instance, i found two feathers with the egg; this egg is about the size of a hen's, and looks extravagantly large, splashed with black or deep umber, apparently at random, the markings larger and more frequent towards the great end. at the barking of a dog from any place where these birds breed, they immediately fly towards the animal, and will pass within a few feet of the observer, as if in defiance. at other times they leave the nest and fall in the water, diving to an extraordinary distance before they rise again. john shot a gannet on the wing; the flesh was black and unpleasant. the piping plover, when missed by the shot, rises almost perpendicularly, and passes sometimes out of sight; this is, i am convinced by the many opportunities i have had to witness the occurrence, a habit of the species. these islands are well watered by large springs, and rivulets intersect the country in many directions. we saw large flocks of velvet ducks feeding close to the shores; these did not appear to be in pairs. the gannet dives quite under the water after its prey, and when empty of food rises easily off the water. _june , off the gannett rocks._ we rose at two o'clock with a view to proceed to the eastern extremity of these islands in search of certain ponds, wherein, so we were told, wild geese and ducks of different kinds are in the habit of resorting annually to breed. our informer added that formerly brents bred there in abundance, but that since the erection of several buildings owned by nova scotians, and in the immediate vicinity of these ponds or lakes, the birds have become gradually very shy, and most of them now proceed farther north. some of these lakes are several miles in circumference, with shallow, sandy bottoms; most of them are fresh water, the shores thickly overgrown with rank sedges and grasses, and on the surface are many water-lilies. it is among these that the wild fowl, when hid from the sight of man, deposit their eggs. our way to these ponds would have been through a long and narrow bay, formed by what seamen call sea-walls. in this place these walls are entirely of light-colored sand, and form connecting points from one island to another, thus uniting nearly the whole archipelago. our journey was abandoned just as we were about to start, in consequence of the wind changing, and being fair for our passage to labrador, the ultimatum of our desires. our anchor was raised, and we bid adieu to the magdalenes. our pilot, a mr. godwin from nova scotia, put the vessel towards what he called "the bird rocks," where he told us that gannets (_sula bassana_) bred in great numbers. for several days past we have met with an increased number of gannets, and as we sailed this morning we observed long and numerous files, all flying in the direction of the rocks. their flight now was low above the water, forming easy undulations, flapping thirty or forty times, and sailing about the same distance; these were all returning from fishing, and were gorged with food for their mates or young. about ten a speck rose on the horizon, which i was told was the rock; we sailed well, the breeze increased fast, and we neared this object apace. at eleven i could distinguish its top plainly from the deck, and thought it covered with snow to the depth of several feet; this appearance existed on every portion of the flat, projecting shelves. godwin said, with the coolness of a man who had visited this rock for ten successive seasons, that what we saw was not snow--but gannets! i rubbed my eyes, took my spy-glass, and in an instant the strangest picture stood before me. they were birds we saw,--a mass of birds of such a size as i never before cast my eyes on. the whole of my party stood astounded and amazed, and all came to the conclusion that such a sight was of itself sufficient to invite any one to come across the gulf to view it at this season. the nearer we approached, the greater our surprise at the enormous number of these birds, all calmly seated on their eggs or newly hatched brood, their heads all turned to windward, and towards us. the air above for a hundred yards, and for some distance around the whole rock, was filled with gannets on the wing, which from our position made it appear as if a heavy fall of snow was directly above us. our pilot told us the wind was too high to permit us to land, and i felt sadly grieved at this unwelcome news. anxious as we all were, we decided to make the attempt; our whale-boat was overboard, the pilot, two sailors, tom lincoln, and john pushed off with guns and clubs. our vessel was brought to, but at that instant the wind increased, and heavy rain began to fall. our boat neared the rock, and went to the lee of it, and was absent nearly an hour, but could not land. the air was filled with gannets, but no difference could we perceive on the surface of the rock. the birds, which we now could distinctly see, sat almost touching each other and in regular lines, seated on their nests quite unconcerned. the discharge of the guns had no effect on those that were not touched by the shot, for the noise of the gulls, guillemots, etc., deadened the sound of the gun; but where the shot took effect, the birds scrambled and flew off in such multitudes, and in such confusion, that whilst some eight or ten were falling into the water either dead or wounded, others pushed off their eggs, and these fell into the sea by hundreds in all directions. the sea now becoming very rough, the boat was obliged to return, with some birds and some eggs; but the crew had not climbed the rock, a great disappointment to me. godwin tells me the top of the rock is about a quarter of a mile wide, north and south, and a little narrower east and west; its elevation above the sea between three and four hundred feet. the sea beats round it with great violence, except after long calms, and it is extremely difficult to land upon it, and much more so to climb to the top of it, which is a platform; it is only on the southeast shore that a landing can be made, and the moment a boat touches, it must be hauled up on the rocks. the whole surface is perfectly covered with nests, placed about two feet apart, in such regular order that you may look through the lines as you would look through those of a planted patch of sweet potatoes or cabbages. the fishermen who kill these birds, to get their flesh for codfish bait, ascend in parties of six or eight, armed with clubs; sometimes, indeed, the party comprises the crews of several vessels. as they reach the top, the birds, alarmed, rise with a noise like thunder, and fly off in such hurried, fearful confusion as to throw each other down, often falling on each other till there is a bank of them many feet high. the men strike them down and kill them until fatigued or satisfied. five hundred and forty have been thus murdered in one hour by six men. the birds are skinned with little care, and the flesh cut off in chunks; it will keep fresh about a fortnight. the nests are made by scratching down a few inches, and the edges surrounded with sea-weeds. the eggs are pure white, and as large as those of a goose. by the th of may the rock is already covered with birds and eggs; about the th of june they begin to hatch. so great is the destruction of these birds annually that their flesh supplies the bait for upwards of forty fishing-boats, which lie close to the byron island each season. when the young are hatched they are black, and for a fortnight or more the skin looks like that of the dog-fish. they become gradually downy and white, and when two months old look much like young lambs. even while shooting at these birds, hundreds passed us carrying great masses of weeds to their nests. the birds were thick above our heads, and i shot at one to judge of the effect of the report of the gun; it had none. a great number of kittiwake gulls breed on this rock, with thousands of foolish guillemots. the kittiwake makes its nest of eel-weeds, several inches in thickness, and in places too small for a gannet or a guillemot to place itself; in some instances these nests projected some inches over the edge of the rock. we could not see any of their eggs. the breeze was now so stiff that the waves ran high; so much so that the boat was perched on the comb of the wave one minute, the next in the trough. john steered, and he told me afterwards he was nearly exhausted. the boat was very cleverly hauled on deck by a single effort. the stench from the rock is insufferable, as it is covered with the remains of putrid fish, rotten eggs, and dead birds, old and young. no man who has not seen what we have this day can form the least idea of the impression the sight made on our minds. by dark it blew a gale and we are now most of us rather shaky; rain is falling in torrents, and the sailors are reefing. i forgot to say that when a man walks towards the gannets, they will now and then stand still, merely opening and shutting their bills; the gulls remained on their nests with more confidence than the guillemots, all of which flew as we approached. the feathering of the gannet is curious, differing from that of most other birds, inasmuch as each feather is concave, and divided in its contour from the next. under the roof of the mouth and attached to the upper mandible, are two fleshy appendages like two small wattles. _june ._ all our party except coolidge were deadly sick. the thermometer was down to °, and every sailor complained of the cold. it has rained almost all day. i felt so very sick this morning that i removed from my berth to a hammock, where i soon felt rather more easy. we lay to all this time, and at daylight were in sight of the island of anticosti, distant about twenty miles; but the fog soon after became so thick that nothing could be observed. at about two we saw the sun, the wind hauled dead ahead, and we ran under one sail only. _june , sunday._ the weather clear, beautiful, and much warmer; but it was calm, so we fished for cod, of which we caught a good many; most of them contained crabs of a curious sort, and some were filled with shrimps. one cod measured three feet six and a half inches, and weighed twenty-one pounds. found two curious insects fastened to the skin of a cod, which we saved. at about six o'clock the wind sprang up fair, and we made all sail for labrador. _june ._ i was on deck at three this morning; the sun, although not above the horizon, indicated to the mariner at the helm one of those doubtful days the result of which seldom can be truly ascertained until sunset. the sea was literally covered with foolish guillemots, playing in the very spray of the bow of our vessel, plunging under it, as if in fun, and rising like spirits close under our rudder. the breeze was favorable, although we were hauled to the wind within a point or so. the helmsman said he saw land from aloft, but the captain pronounced his assertion must be a mistake, by true calculation. we breakfasted on the best of fresh codfish, and i never relished a breakfast more. i looked on our landing on the coast of labrador as a matter of great importance. my thoughts were filled, not with airy castles, but with expectations of the new knowledge of birds and quadrupeds which i hoped to acquire. the "ripley" ploughed the deep, and proceeded swiftly on her way; she always sails well, but i thought that now as the land was expected to appear every moment, she fairly skipped over the waters. at five o'clock the cry of land rang in our ears, and my heart bounded with joy; so much for anticipation. we sailed on, and in less than an hour the land was in full sight from the deck. we approached, and saw, as we supposed, many sails, and felt delighted at having hit the point in view so very closely; but, after all, the sails proved to be large snow-banks. we proceeded, however, the wind being so very favorable that we could either luff or bear away. the air was now filled with velvet ducks; _millions_ of these birds were flying from the northwest towards the southeast. the foolish guillemots and the _alca torda_[ ] were in immense numbers, flying in long files a few yards above the water, with rather undulating motions, and passing within good gunshot of the vessel, and now and then rounding to us, as if about to alight on the very deck. we now saw a schooner at anchor, and the country looked well at this distance, and as we neared the shore the thermometer, which had been standing at °, now rose up to nearly °; yet the appearance of the great snow-drifts was forbidding. the shores appeared to be margined with a broad and handsome sand-beach; our imaginations now saw bears, wolves, and devils of all sorts scampering away on the rugged shore. when we reached the schooner we saw beyond some thirty fishing-boats, fishing for cod, and to our great pleasure found captain billings of eastport standing in the bow of his vessel; he bid us welcome, and we saw the codfish thrown on his deck by thousands. we were now opposite to the mouth of the natasquan river, where the hudson's bay company have a fishing establishment, but where no american vessels are allowed to come in. the shore was lined with bark-covered huts, and some vessels were within the bight, or long point of land which pushes out from the extreme eastern side of the entrance of the river. we went on to an american harbor, four or five miles distant to the westward, and after a while came to anchor in a small bay, perfectly secure from any winds. and now we are positively on the labrador coast, latitude ° and a little more,--farther north than i ever was before. but what a country! when we landed and passed the beach, we sank nearly up to our knees in mosses of various sorts, producing as we moved through them a curious sensation. these mosses, which at a distance look like hard rocks, are, under foot, like a velvet cushion. we scrambled about, and with anxiety stretched our necks and looked over the country far and near, but not a square foot of _earth_ could we see. a poor, rugged, miserable country; the trees like so many mops of wiry composition, and where the soil is not rocky it is boggy up to a man's waist. we searched and searched; but, after all, only shot an adult pigeon-hawk, a summer-plumage tell-tale godwit, and an _alca torda_. we visited all the islands about the harbor; they were all rocky, nothing but rocks. the _larus marinus_ was sailing magnificently all about us. the great tern was plunging after shrimps in every pool, and we found four eggs of the _totanus macularius_;[ ] the nest was situated under a rock in the grass, and made of a quantity of dried grass, forming a very decided nest, at least much more so than in our middle states, where the species breed so very abundantly. wild geese were seen by our party, and these birds also breed here; we saw loons and eider ducks, _anas obscura_[ ] and the _fuligula [[oe]demia] americana_.[ ] we came to our anchorage at twenty minutes past twelve. tom lincoln and john heard a ptarmigan. toads were abundant. we saw some rare plants, which we preserved, and butterflies and small bees were among the flowers which we gathered. we also saw red-breasted mergansers. the male and female eider ducks separate as soon as the latter begin to lay; after this they are seen flying in large flocks, each sex separately. we found a dead basking shark, six and a half feet long; this fish had been wounded by a harpoon and ran ashore, or was washed there by the waves. at eastport fish of this kind have been killed thirty feet long. _june ._ i remained on board all day, drawing; our boats went off to some islands eight or ten miles distant, after birds and eggs, but the day, although very beautiful, did not prove valuable to us, as some eggers from halifax had robbed the places ere the boats arrived. we, however, procured about a dozen of _alca torda, uria troile_, a female eider duck, a male surf duck, and a sandpiper, or _tringa_,--which, i cannot ascertain, although the _least_[ ] i ever saw, not the _pusilla_ of bonaparte's synopsis. many nests of the eider duck were seen, some at the edge of the woods, placed under the rampant boughs of the fir-trees, which in this latitude grow only a few inches above the surface of the ground, and to find the nest, these boughs had to be raised. the nests were scooped a few inches deep in the mossy, rotten substance that forms here what must be called earth; the eggs are deposited on a bed of down and covered with the same material; and so warm are these nests that, although not a parent bird was seen near them, the eggs were quite warm to the touch, and the chicks in some actually hatching in the absence of the mother. some of the nests had the eggs uncovered; six eggs was the greatest number found in a nest. the nests found on grassy islands are fashioned in the same manner, and generally placed at the foot of a large tussock of grass. two female ducks had about twelve young on the water, and these they protected by flapping about the water in such a way as to raise a spray, whilst the little ones dove off in various directions. flocks of thirty to forty males were on the wing without a single female among them. the young birds procured were about one week old, of a dark mouse-color, thickly covered with a soft and warm down, and their feet appeared to be more perfect, for their age, than any other portion, because more necessary to secure their safety, and to enable them to procure food. john found many nests of the _larus marinus_, of which he brought both eggs and young. the nest of this fine bird is made of mosses and grasses, raised on the solid rock, and handsomely formed within; a few feathers are in this lining. three eggs, large, hard-shelled, with ground color of dirty yellowish, splashed and spotted with dark umber and black. the young, although small, were away from the nest a few feet, placing themselves to the lee of the nearest sheltering rock. they did not attempt to escape, but when taken uttered a cry not unlike that of a young chicken under the same circumstances. the parents were so shy and so wary that none could be shot. at the approach of the boats to the rocks where they breed, a few standing as sentinels gave the alarm, and the whole rose immediately in the air to a great elevation. on another rock, not far distant, a number of gulls of the same size, white, and with the same hoarse note, were to be seen, but they had no nests; these, i am inclined to think (at present) the bird called _larus argentatus_ (herring gull), which is simply the immature bird of _larus marinus_.[ ] i am the more led to believe this because, knowing the tyrannical disposition of the _l. marinus_, i am sure they would not suffer a species almost as powerful as themselves in their immediate neighborhood. they fly altogether, but the white ones do not alight on the rocks where the _marinus_ has its nests. john watched their motion and their cry very closely, and gave me this information. two eggs of a tern,[ ] resembling the cayenne tern, were found in a nest on the rocks, made of moss also, but the birds, although the eggs were nearly ready to hatch, kept out of gunshot. these eggs measured one and a half inches in length, very oval, whitish, spotted and dotted irregularly with brown and black all over. the cry of those terns which _i_ saw this afternoon resembles that of the cayenne tern that i met with in the floridas, and i could see a large orange bill, but could not discern the black feet. many nests of the great tern (_sterna hirundo_) were found--two eggs in each, laid on the short grass scratched out, but no nest. one _tringa pusilla_ [_minutilla_], the smallest i ever saw, was procured; these small gentry are puzzles indeed; i do not mean to say in nature, but in charles's[ ] synopsis. we went ashore this afternoon and made a bear trap with a gun, baited with heads and entrails of codfish, bruin having been seen within a few hundred yards of where the lure now lies in wait. it is truly interesting to see the activity of the cod-fishermen about us, but i will write of this when i know more of their filthy business. _june ._ drawing as much as the disagreeable motion of the vessel would allow me to do; and although at anchor and in a good harbor, i could scarcely steady my pencil, the wind being high from southwest. at three a. m. i had all the young men up, and they left by four for some islands where the _larus marinus_ breeds. the captain went up the little natasquan river. when john returned he brought eight _alca torda_ and four of their eggs _identified_; these eggs measure three inches in length, one and seven-eighths in breadth, dirty-white ground, broadly splashed with deep brown and black, more so towards the greater end. this _alca_ feeds on fish of a small size, flies swiftly with a quick beat of the wings, rounding to and fro at the distance of fifty or more yards, exhibiting, as it turns, the pure white of its lower parts, or the jet black of its upper. these birds sit on the nest in an almost upright position; they are shy and wary, diving into the water, or taking flight at the least appearance of danger; if wounded slightly they dive, and we generally lost them, but if unable to do this, they throw themselves on their back and defend themselves fiercely, biting severely whoever attempts to seize them. they run over and about the rocks with ease, and not awkwardly, as some have stated. the flesh of this bird when stewed in a particular manner is good eating, much better than would be expected from birds of its class and species. the _larus argentatus_ breeds on the same islands, and we found many eggs; the nests were all on the rocks, made of moss and grasses, and rather neat inwardly. the arctic tern was found breeding abundantly; we took some of their eggs; there were two in each nest, one and a quarter inches long, five-eighths broad, rather sharp at the little end. the ground is light olive, splashed with dark umber irregularly, and more largely at the greater end; these were deposited two or three on the rocks, wherever a little grass grew, no nest of any kind apparent. in habits this bird resembles the _s. hirundo_, and has nearly the same harsh note; it feeds principally on shrimps, which abound in these waters. five young _l. marinas_ were brought alive, small and beautifully spotted yet over the head and back, somewhat like a leopard; they walked well about the deck, and managed to pick up the food given them; their cry was a "hac, hac, hac, wheet, wheet, wheet." frequently, when one was about to swallow a piece of flesh, a brother or sister would jump at it, tug, and finally deprive its relative of the morsel in an instant. john assured me that the old birds were too shy to be approached at all. john shot a fine male of the scoter duck, which is scarce here. saw some wild geese (_anser canadensis_), which breed here, though they have not yet formed their nests. the red-breasted merganser (_mergus serrator_) breeds also here, but is extremely shy and wary, flying off as far as they can see us, which to me in this wonderfully wild country is surprising; indeed, thus far all the sea-fowl are much wilder than those of the floridas. twenty nests of a species of cormorant,[ ] not yet ascertained, were found on a small detached, rocky island; these were built of sticks, sea-weeds, and grasses, on the naked rock, and about two feet high, as filthy as those of their relations the floridians.[ ] three eggs were found in one nest, which is the complement, but not a bird could be shot--too shy and vigilant. this afternoon the captain and i walked to the little natasquan river, and proceeded up it about four miles to the falls or rapids--a small river, dark, irony waters, sandy shores, and impenetrable woods along these, except here and there is a small space overgrown with short wiry grass unfit for cattle; a thing of little consequence, as no cattle are to be found here. returning this evening the tide had so fallen that we waded a mile and a half to an island close to our anchorage; the sailors were obliged to haul the boat that distance in a few inches of water. we have removed the "ripley" closer in shore, where i hope she will be steady enough for my work to-morrow. _june ._ thermometer ° at noon. calm and beautiful. drew all day, and finished two _uria troile_. i rose at two this morning, for we have scarcely any darkness now; about four a man came from captain billings to accompany some of our party to partridge bay on a shooting excursion. john and his party went off by land, or rather by rock and moss, to some ponds three or four miles from the sea; they returned at four this afternoon, and brought only one scoter duck, male; saw four, but could not discover the nests, although they breed here; saw also about twenty wild geese, one pair red-necked divers, one _anas fusca_, one three-toed woodpecker, and tell-tale godwits. the ponds, although several miles long, and of good proportion and depth, had no fish in them that could be discovered, and on the beach no shells nor grasses; the margins are reddish sand. a few toads were seen, which john described as "pale-looking and poor." the country a barren rock as far as the eye extended; mosses more than a foot deep on the average, of different varieties but principally the white kind, hard and crisp. saw not a quadruped. our bear trap was discharged, but we could not find the animal for want of a dog. an eider duck's nest was found fully one hundred yards from the water, unsheltered on the rocks, with five eggs and clean down. in no instance, though i have tried with all my powers, have i approached nearer than eight or ten yards of the sitting birds; they fly at the least appearance of danger. we concluded that the absence of fish in these ponds was on account of their freezing solidly every winter, when fish must die. captain billings paid me a visit, and very generously offered to change our whale-boat for a large one, and his pilot boat for ours; the industry of this man is extraordinary. the specimen of _uria troile_ drawn with a white line round the eye[ ] was a female; the one without this line was a young bird. i have drawn seventeen and a half hours this day, and my poor head aches badly enough. one of captain billings' mates told me of the _procellarias_ breeding in great numbers in and about mount desert island rocks, in the months of june and july; there they deposit their one white egg in the deepest fissures of the rocks, and sit upon it only during the night. when approached whilst on the egg, they open their wings and bill, and offer to defend themselves from the approach of intruders. the eider ducks are seen leaving the islands on which they breed, at daybreak every fair morning, in congregated flocks of males or females separately, and proceed to certain fishing grounds where the water is only a few fathoms deep, and remain till towards evening, when the females sit on their eggs for the night, and the males group on the rocks by themselves. this valuable bird is extremely abundant here; we find their nests without any effort every time we go out. so sonorous is the song of the fox-colored sparrow that i can hear it for hours, most distinctly, from the cabin where i am drawing, and yet it is distant more than a quarter of a mile. this bird is in this country what the towhee bunting is in the middle states. _june ._ i drew all day at an adult gannet which we brought from the great rock of which i have spoken; it was still in good order. many eggs of the arctic tern were collected to-day, two or three in a nest; these birds are as shy here as all others, and the moment john and coolidge landed, or indeed approached the islands on which they breed, they all rose in the air, passed high overhead, screaming and scolding all the time the young men were on the land. when one is shot the rest plunge towards it, and can then be easily shot. sometimes when wounded in the body, they sail off to extraordinary distances, and are lost. the same is the case with the _larus marinus_. when our captain returned he brought about a dozen female eider ducks, a great number of their eggs, and a bag of down; also a fine wild goose, but nothing new for the pencil. in one nest of the eider ten eggs were found; this is the most we have seen as yet in any one nest. the female draws the down from her abdomen as far towards her breast as her bill will allow her to do, but the _feathers_ are not pulled, and on examination of several specimens i found these well and regularly planted, and cleaned from their original down, as a forest of trees is cleared of its undergrowth. in this state the female is still well clothed, and little or no difference can be seen in the plumage unless examined. these birds have now nearly all hatched in this latitude, but we are told that we shall over-reach them in that, and meet with nests and eggs as we go northeast until august. so abundant were the nests of these birds on the islands of partridge bay, about forty miles west of this place, that a boat load of their eggs might have been collected if they had been fresh; they are then excellent eating. our captain called on a half-breed indian in the employ of the northeast fur and fish co., living with his squaw and two daughters. a potato patch of about an acre was planted in _sand_, for not a foot of _soil_ is there to be found hereabouts. the man told him his potatoes grew well and were good, ripening in a few weeks, which he called the summer. the mosquitoes and black gnats are bad enough on shore. i heard a wood pewee. the wild goose is an excellent diver, and when with its young uses many beautiful stratagems to save its brood, and elude the hunter. they will dive and lead their young under the surface of the water, and always in a contrary direction to the one expected; thus if you row a boat after one it will dive under it, and now and then remain under it several minutes, when the hunter with outstretched neck, is looking, all in vain, in the distance for the _stupid goose_! every time i read or hear of a stupid animal in a wild state, i cannot help wishing that the stupid animal who speaks thus, was half as wise as the brute he despises, so that he might be able to thank his maker for what knowledge he may possess. i found many small flowers open this day, where none appeared last evening. all vegetable life here is of the pygmy order, and so ephemeral that it shoots out of the tangled mass of ages, blooms, fructifies, and dies, in a few weeks. we ascertained to-day that a party of four men from halifax took last spring nearly forty thousand eggs, which they sold at halifax and other towns at twenty-five cents per dozen, making over $ ; this was done in about two months. last year upwards of twenty sail were engaged in "egging;" so some idea may be formed of the birds that are destroyed in this rascally way. the eggers destroy all the eggs that are sat upon, to force the birds to lay again, and by robbing them regularly, they lay till nature is exhausted, and few young are raised. in less than half a century these wonderful nurseries will be entirely destroyed, unless some kind government will interfere to stop the shameful destruction. _june ._ it was very rainy, and thermometer °. after breakfast dressed in my oilskins and went with the captain in the whale-boat to the settlement at the entrance of the true natasquan, five miles east. on our way we saw numerous seals; these rise to the surface of the water, erect the head to the full length of the neck, snuff the air, and you also, and sink back to avoid any further acquaintance with man. we saw a great number of gulls of various kinds, but mostly _l. marinus_ and _l. tridactylus_; these were on the extreme points of sand-bars, but could not be approached, and certainly the more numerous they are, the more wild and wary. on entering the river we saw several nets set across a portion of the stream for the purpose of catching salmon; these seines were fastened in the stream about sixty yards from either shore, supported by buoys; the net is fastened to the shore by stakes that hold it perpendicular to the water; the fish enter these, and entangle themselves until removed by the fishermen. on going to a house on the shore, we found it a tolerably good cabin, floored, containing a good stove, a chimney, and an oven at the bottom of this, like the ovens of the french peasants, three beds, and a table whereon the breakfast of the family was served. this consisted of coffee in large bowls, good bread, and fried salmon. three labrador dogs came and sniffed about us, and then returned under the table whence they had issued, with no appearance of anger. two men, two women, and a babe formed the group, which i addressed in french. they were french canadians and had been here several years, winter and summer, and are agents for the fur and fish co., who give them food, clothes, and about $ per annum. they have a cow and an ox, about an acre of potatoes planted in sand, seven feet of snow in winter, and two-thirds less salmon than was caught here ten years since. then three hundred barrels was a fair season; now one hundred is the maximum; this is because they will catch the fish both ascending and descending the river. during winter the men hunt foxes, martens, and sables, and kill some bear of the black kind, but neither deer nor other game is to be found without going a great distance in the interior, where reindeer are now and then procured. one species of grouse and one of ptarmigan, the latter white at all seasons; the former i suppose to be the willow grouse. the men would neither sell nor give us a single salmon, saying that so strict were their orders that, should they sell _one_ the place might be taken from them. if this should prove the case everywhere, i shall not purchase many for my friends. the furs which they collect are sent off to quebec at the first opening of the waters in spring, and not a skin of any sort was here for us to look at. we met here two large boats containing about twenty montagnais indians, old and young, men and women. they carried canoes lashed to the sides, like whale-ships, for the seal fishery. the men were stout and good-looking, spoke tolerable french, the skin redder than any indians i have ever seen, and more _clear_; the women appeared cleaner than usual, their hair braided and hanging down, jet black, but short. all were dressed in european costume except the feet, on which coarse moccasins of sealskin took the place of shoes. i made a bargain with them for some grouse, and three young men were despatched at once. on leaving the harbor this morning we saw a black man-of-war-like looking vessel entering it with the french flag; she anchored near us, and on our return we were told it was the quebec cutter. i wrote a note to the officer commanding, enclosing my card, and requesting an interview. the commander replied he would receive me in two hours. his name was captain bayfield, the vessel the "gulnare." the sailor who had taken my note was asked if i had procured many birds, and how far i intended to proceed. after dinner, which consisted of hashed eider ducks, which were very good, the females always being fat when sitting, i cut off my three weeks' beard, put on clean linen, and with my credentials in my pocket went to the "gulnare." i was received politely, and after talking on deck for a while, was invited into the cabin, and was introduced to the doctor, who appeared to be a man of talents, a student of botany and conchology. thus men of the same tastes meet everywhere, yet surely i did not expect to meet a naturalist on the labrador coast. the vessel is on a surveying cruise, and we are likely to be in company the whole summer. the first lieutenant studies ornithology and collects. after a while i gave my letter from the duke of sussex to the captain, who read and returned it without comment. as i was leaving, the rain poured down, and i was invited to remain, but declined; the captain promised to do anything for me in his power. saw many siskins, but cannot get a shot at one. _june ._ it was our intention to have left this morning for another harbor, about fifty miles east, but the wind being dead ahead we are here still. i have drawn all day, at the background of the gannets. john and party went off about six miles, and returned with half a dozen guillemots, and ten or twelve dozen eggs. coolidge brought in arctic terns and _l. marinus_; two young of the latter about three weeks old, having the same voice and notes as the old ones. when on board they ran about the deck, and fed themselves with pieces of fish thrown to them. these young gulls, as well as young herons of every kind, sit on the tarsus when fatigued, with their feet extended before them in a very awkward-looking position, but one which to them is no doubt comfortable. shattuck and i took a walk over the dreary hills about noon; the sun shone pleasantly, and we found several flowers in full bloom, amongst which the _kalmia glauca_, a beautiful small species, was noticeable. the captain and surgeon from the "gulnare" called and invited me to dine with them to-morrow. this evening we have been visiting the montagnais indians' camp, half a mile from us, and found them skinning seals, and preparing the flesh for use. saw a robe the size of a good blanket made of seal-skins tanned so soft and beautiful, with the hair on, that it was as pliant as a kid glove; they would not sell it. the chief of the party proves to be well informed, and speaks french so as to be understood. he is a fine-looking fellow of about forty; has a good-looking wife and fine babe. his brother is also married, and has several sons from fourteen to twenty years old. when we landed the men came to us, and after the first salutations, to my astonishment offered us some excellent rum. the women were all seated apart outside of the camp, engaged in closing up sundry packages of provisions and accoutrements. we entered a tent, and seated ourselves round a cheerful fire, the smoke of which escaped through the summit of the apartment, and over the fire two kettles boiled. i put many questions to the chief and his brother, and gained this information. the country from here to the first settlement of the hudson's bay co. is as barren and rocky as that about us. very large lakes of great depth are met with about two hundred miles from this seashore; these lakes abound in very large trout, carp, and white fish, and many mussels, unfit to eat, which they describe as black outside and purple within, and are no doubt unios. not a bush is to be met with, and the indians who now and then go across are obliged to carry their tent poles with them, as well as their canoes; they burn moss for fuel. so tedious is the travelling said to be that not more than ten miles on an average per day can be made, and when the journey is made in two months it is considered a good one. wolves and black bear are frequent, no deer, and not many caribous; not a bird of any kind except wild geese and brent about the lakes, where they breed in perfect peace. when the journey is undertaken in the winter, which is very seldom the case, it is performed on snow-shoes, and no canoes are taken. fur animals are scarce, yet some few beavers and otters are caught, a few martens and sables, and some foxes and lynx, but every year diminishes their numbers. the fur company may be called the exterminating medium of these wild and almost uninhabitable climes, where cupidity and the love of gold can alone induce man to reside for a while. where can i go now, and visit nature undisturbed? the _turdus migratorius_[ ] must be the hardiest of the whole genus. i hear it at this moment, eight o'clock at night, singing most joyously its "good-night!" and "all's well!" to the equally hardy labradorians. the common crow and the raven are also here, but the magdalene islands appear to be the last outpost of the warblers, for here the black-poll warbler, the only one we see, is scarce. the white-throated and the white-crowned sparrows are the only tolerably abundant land birds. the indians brought in no grouse. a fine adult specimen of the _larus marinus_ killed this day has already changed full half of its primary feathers next the body; this bird had two young ones, and was shot as it dove through the air towards john, who was near the nest; this is the first instance we have seen of so much attachment being shown to the progeny with danger at hand. two male eider ducks were shot and found very much advanced in the moult. no doubt exists in my mind that male birds are much in advance of female in their moults; this is very slow, and indeed is not completed until late in winter, after which the brilliancy of the bills and the richness of the coloring of the legs and feet only improve as they depart from the south for the north. _june ._ drawing most of this day, no birds procured, but some few plants. i dined on board the "gulnare" at five o'clock, and was obliged to shave and dress--quite a bore on the coast of labrador, believe me. i found the captain, surgeon, and three officers formed our party; the conversation ranged from botany to politics, from the established church of england to the hatching of eggs by steam. i saw the maps being made of this coast, and was struck with the great accuracy of the shape of our present harbor, which i now know full well. i returned to our vessel at ten, and am longing to be farther north; but the wind is so contrary it would be a loss of time to attempt it now. the weather is growing warmer, and mosquitoes are abundant and hungry. coolidge shot a white-crowned sparrow, a male, while in the act of carrying some materials to build a nest with; so they must breed here. _june ._ made a drawing of the arctic tern, of which a great number breed here. i am of temminck's opinion that the upper plumage of this species is much darker than that of _s. hirundo_. the young men, who are always ready for sport, caught a hundred codfish in half an hour, and _somewhere_ secured three fine salmon, one of which we sent to the "gulnare" with some cod. our harbor is called "american harbor," and also "little natasquan;" it is in latitude ° ´ north, longitude ° east of quebec and ° ´ west of greenwich. the waters of all the streams which we have seen are of a rusty color, probably on account of the decomposed mosses, which appear to be quite of a peaty nature. the rivers appear to be formed by the drainage of swamps, fed apparently by rain and the melting snows, and in time of freshets the sand is sifted out, and carried to the mouth of every stream, where sand-bars are consequently met with. below the mouth of each stream proves to be the best station for cod-fishing, as there the fish accumulate to feed on the fry which runs into the river to deposit spawn, and which they follow to sea after this, as soon as the fry make off from the rivers to deep water. it is to be remarked that so shy of strangers are the agents of the fur and fish company that they will evade all questions respecting the interior of the country, and indeed will willingly tell you such untruths as at once disgust and shock you. all this through the fear that strangers should attempt to settle here, and divide with them the profits which they enjoy. bank swallows in sight this moment, with the weather thick, foggy, and an east wind; where are these delicate pilgrims bound? the black-poll warbler is more abundant, and forever singing, if the noise it makes can be called a song; it resembles the clicking of small pebbles together five or six times, and is renewed every few minutes. _june ._ we have been waiting five days for wind, and so has the "gulnare." the fishing fleet of six or seven sails has made out to beat four miles to other fishing grounds. it has rained nearly all day, but we have all been on shore, to be beaten back by the rain and the mosquitoes. john brought a female white-crowned sparrow; the black and white of the head was as pure as in the male, which is not common. it rains hard, and is now calm. god send us a fair wind to-morrow morning, and morning here is about half-past two. _june ._ it rained quite hard when i awoke this morning; the fog was so thick the very shores of our harbor, not distant more than a hundred yards, were enveloped in gloom. after breakfast we went ashore; the weather cleared up and the wind blew fresh. we rambled about the brushwoods till dinner time, shot two canada jays, one old and one young, the former much darker than those of maine; the young one was full fledged, but had no white about its head; the whole of the body and head was of a deep, very deep blue. it must have been about three weeks old, and the egg from which it was hatched must have been laid about the th of may, when the thermometer was below the freezing-point. we shot also a ruby-crowned wren;[ ] no person who has not heard it would believe that the song of this bird is louder, stronger, and far more melodious than that of the canary bird. it sang for a long time ere it was shot, and perched on the tops of the tallest fir-trees removing from one to another as we approached. so strange, so beautiful was that song that i pronounced the musician, ere it was shot, a new species of warbler. john shot it; it fell to the ground, and though the six of us looked for it we could not find it, and went elsewhere; in the course of the afternoon we passed by the spot again, and john found it and gave it to me. we shot a new species of finch, which i have named _fringilla lincolnii_; it is allied to the swamp sparrow in general appearance, but is considerably smaller, and may be known at once from all others thus far described, by the light buff streak which runs from the base of the lower mandible, until it melts into the duller buff of the breast, and by the bright ash-streak over the eye. the note of this bird attracted me at once; it was loud and sonorous; the bird flew low and forward, perching on the firs, very shy, and cunningly eluding our pursuit; we, however, shot three, but lost one. i shall draw it to-morrow.[ ] _june ._ the weather shocking--rainy, foggy, dark and cold. i began drawing at daylight, and finished one of my new finches and outlined another. at noon the wind suddenly changed and blew hard from the northwest, with heavy rain, and such a swell that i was almost sea-sick, and had to abandon drawing. we dined, and immediately afterward the wind came round to southwest; all was bustle with us and with the "gulnare," for we both were preparing our sails and raising our anchors ere proceeding to sea. _we_ sailed, and managed so well that we cleared the outer cape east of our harbor, and went out to sea in good style. the "gulnare" was not so fortunate; she attempted to beat out in vain, and returned to her anchorage. the sea was so high in consequence of the late gales that we all took to our berths, and i am only now able to write. _june ._ at three this morning we were off the land about fifteen miles, and about fifty from american harbor. wind favorable, but light; at about ten it freshened. we neared the shore, but as before our would-be pilot could not recognize the land, and our captain had to search for the harbor where we now are, himself. we passed near an island covered with foolish guillemots, and came to, for the purpose of landing; we did so through a heavy surf, and found two eggers just landed, and running over the rocks for eggs. we did the same, and soon collected about a hundred. these men told me they visited every island in the vicinity every day, and that, in consequence they had fresh eggs every day. they had collected eight hundred dozen, and expect to get two thousand dozen. the number of broken eggs created a fetid smell on this island, scarcely to be borne. the _l. marinus_ were here in hundreds, and destroying the eggs of the guillemots by thousands. from this island we went to another, and there found the _mormon arcticus_[ ] breeding in great numbers. we caught many in their burrows, killed some, and collected some of the eggs. on this island their burrows were dug in the light black loam formed of decayed moss, three to six feet deep, yet not more than about a foot under the surface. the burrows ran in all directions, and in some instances connected; the end of the burrow is rounded, and there is the pure white egg. those caught at the holes bit most furiously and scratched shockingly with the inner claw, making a mournful noise all the time. the whole island was perforated with their burrows. no young were yet hatched, and the eggers do not collect these eggs, finding them indifferent. they say the same of the eggs of the _alca torda_, which they call "tinkers."[ ] the _mormon_, they call "sea parrots." each species seems to have its own island except the _alca torda_, which admits the guillemots. as we advanced, we passed by a rock literally covered with cormorants, of what species i know not yet; their effluvia could be perceived more than a mile off. we made the fine anchorage where we now are about four o'clock. we found some difficulty in entering on account of our pilot being an ignorant ass; _twice_ did we see the rocks under our vessel. the appearance of the country around is quite different from that near american harbor; nothing in view here as far as eye can reach, but bare, high, rugged rocks, grand indeed, but not a shrub a foot above the ground. the moss is shorter and more compact, the flowers are fewer, and every plant more diminutive. no matter which way you glance, the prospect is cold and forbidding; deep banks of snow appear here and there, and yet i have found the shore lark (_alauda alpestris_[ ]) in beautiful summer plumage. i found the nest of the brown lark (_anthus spinoletta_[ ]) with five eggs in it; the nest was planted at the foot of a rock, buried in dark mould, and beautifully made of fine grass, well and neatly worked in circularly, without any hair or other lining. we shot a white-crowned sparrow, two savannah finches, and saw more, and a red-bellied nuthatch; this last bird must have been blown here accidentally, as not a bush is there for it to alight upon. i found the tail of an unknown owl, and a dead snow-bird which from its appearance must have died from cold and famine. john brought a young cormorant alive from the nest, but i cannot ascertain its species without the adult, which we hope to secure to-morrow. at dusk the "gulnare" passed us. all my young men are engaged in skinning the _mormon arcticus_. [illustration: victor gifford audubon. from the miniature by f. cruikshank, .] _june ._ i have drawn three birds this day since eight o'clock, one _fringilla lincolnii_, one ruby-crowned wren, and a male white-winged crossbill. found a nest of the savannah finch with two eggs; it was planted in the moss, and covered by a rampant branch; it was made of fine grass, neither hair nor feathers in its composition. shot the _l. marinus_ in fine order, all with the wings extending nearly two inches beyond the tail, and all in the same state of moult, merely showing in the middle primaries. these birds suck other birds' eggs like crows, jays, and ravens. shot six _phalacrocorax carbo_[ ] in full plumage, species well ascertained by their white throat; found abundance of their eggs and young. _july ._ the weather was so cold that it was painful for me to draw almost the whole day, yet i have drawn a white-winged crossbill[ ] and a _mormon arcticus_. we have had three of these latter on board, alive, these three days past; it is amusing to see them running about the cabin and the hold with a surprising quickness, watching our motions, and particularly our eyes. a pigeon hawk's[ ] nest was found to-day; it was on the top of a fir-tree about ten feet high, made of sticks and lined with moss, and as large as a crow's nest; it contained two birds just hatched, and three eggs, which the young inside had just cracked. the parent birds were anxious about their newly born ones, and flew close to us. the little ones were pure white, soft and downy. we found also three young of the _charadrius semipalmatus_,[ ] and several old ones; these birds breed on the margin of a small lake among the low grasses. traces have been seen of hares or rabbits, and one island is perforated throughout its shallow substratum of moss by a species of rat, but in such burrows search for them is vain. the "gulnare" came in this evening; our captain brought her in as pilot. we have had an almost complete eclipse of the moon this evening at half-past seven. the air very chilly. _july ._ a beautiful day for labrador. drew another _m. arcticus_. went on shore, and was most pleased with what i saw. the country, so wild and grand, is of itself enough to interest any one in its wonderful dreariness. its mossy, gray-clothed rocks, heaped and thrown together as if by chance, in the most fantastical groups imaginable, huge masses hanging on minor ones as if about to roll themselves down from their doubtful-looking situations, into the depths of the sea beneath. bays without end, sprinkled with rocky islands of all shapes and sizes, where in every fissure a guillemot, a cormorant, or some other wild bird retreats to secure its egg, and raise its young, or save itself from the hunter's pursuit. the peculiar cast of the sky, which never seems to be certain, butterflies flitting over snow-banks, probing beautiful dwarf flowerets of many hues pushing their tender stems from the thick bed of moss which everywhere covers the granite rocks. then the morasses, wherein you plunge up to your knees, or the walking over the stubborn, dwarfish shrubbery, making one think that as he goes he treads down the _forests_ of labrador. the unexpected bunting, or perhaps sylvia, which perchance, and indeed as if by chance alone, you now and then see flying before you, or hear singing from the creeping plants on the ground. the beautiful fresh-water lakes, on the rugged crests of greatly elevated islands, wherein the red and black-necked divers swim as proudly as swans do in other latitudes, and where the fish appear to have been cast as strayed beings from the surplus food of the ocean. all--all is wonderfully grand, wild--aye, and terrific. and yet how beautiful it is now, when one sees the wild bee, moving from one flower to another in search of food, which doubtless is as sweet to it, as the essence of the magnolia is to those of favored louisiana. the little ring plover rearing its delicate and tender young, the eider duck swimming man-of-war-like amid her floating brood, like the guardship of a most valuable convoy; the white-crowned bunting's sonorous note reaching the ear ever and anon; the crowds of sea-birds in search of places wherein to repose or to feed--how beautiful is all this in this wonderful rocky desert at this season, the beginning of july, compared with the horrid blasts of winter which here predominate by the will of god, when every rock is rendered smooth with snows so deep that every step the traveller takes is as if entering into his grave; for even should he escape an avalanche, his eye dreads to search the horizon, for full well does he know that snow--snow--is all that can be seen. i watched the ring plover for some time; the parents were so intent on saving their young that they both lay on the rocks as if shot, quivering their wings and dragging their bodies as if quite disabled. we left them and their young to the care of the creator. i would not have shot one of the old ones, or taken one of the young for any consideration, and i was glad my young men were as forbearing. the _l. marinus_ is extremely abundant here; they are forever harassing every other bird, sucking their eggs, and devouring their young; they take here the place of eagles and hawks; not an eagle have we seen yet, and only two or three small hawks, and one small owl; yet what a harvest they would have here, were there trees for them to rest upon. _july ._ we had a regular stiff gale from the eastward the whole day, accompanied with rain and cold weather, and the water so rough that i could not go ashore to get plants to draw. this afternoon, however, the wind and waves abated, and we landed for a short time. the view from the topmost rock overlooking the agitated sea was grand; the small islets were covered with the angry foam. thank god! we were not at sea. i had the pleasure of coming immediately upon a cormorant's nest, that lay in a declivity not more than four or five yards below me; the mother bird was on her nest with three young; i was unobserved by her for some minutes, and was delighted to see how kindly attentive she was to her dear brood; suddenly her keen eye saw me, and she flew off as if to dive in the sea. _july ._ at four this morning i sent tom lincoln on shore after four plants and a cormorant's nest for me to draw. the nest was literally _pasted_ to the rock's edge, so thick was the decomposed, putrid matter below it, and to which the upper part of the nest was attached. it was formed of such sticks as the country affords, sea-moss and other garbage, and weighed over fifteen pounds. i have drawn all day, and have finished the plate of the _fringilla lincolnii_, to which i have put three plants of the country, all new to me and probably never before figured; to us they are very fitting for the purpose, as lincoln gathered them. our party divided as usual into three bands: john and lincoln off after divers; coolidge, shattuck, and ingalls to the main land, and our captain and four men to a pond after fish, which they will catch with a seine. captain bayfield sent us a quarter of mutton, a rarity, i will venture to say, on this coast even on the fourth of july. john and lincoln returned with a red-necked diver, or scapegrace, coolidge and party with the nest and two eggs of the _colymbus glacialis_.[ ] this nest was found on the margin of a pond, and was made of short grasses, weeds, etc.; well fashioned and fifteen inches in diameter. after dinner john and i went on shore to release a _uria grylle_ that we had confined in the fissure of a rock; the poor thing was sadly weak, but will soon recover from this trial of ours. _july ._ john and lincoln returned at sunset with a red-necked diver, and one egg of that bird, they also found _uria grylle_, whose pebbled nests were placed beneath large rolling stones on the earth, and not in fissures; lincoln thought them a different species, but john did not. they brought some curious eels, and an arctic tern, and saw the tracks of deer and caribou, also otter paths from one pond to another. they saw several loons and _tolled_ them by running towards them hallooing and waving a handkerchief, at which sight and cry the loon immediately swam towards them, until within twenty yards. this "tolling" is curious and wonderful. many other species of water-fowl are deceived by these manoeuvres, but none so completely as the loon. coolidge's party was fortunate enough to kill a pair of ptarmigans, and to secure seven of the young birds, hatched yesterday at furthest. they met with these on the dreary, mossy tops of the hills, over which we tread daily in search of knowledge. this is the species of grouse of which we heard so much at dennysville last autumn, and glad i am that it is a resident bird with us. the _larus marinus_ was observed trying to catch the young of the eiders. i drew from four o'clock this morning till three this afternoon; finished a figure of the _colymbus septentrionalis_.[ ] feeling the want of exercise, went off with the captain a few miles, to a large rough island. to tread over the spongy moss of labrador is a task beyond conception until tried; at every step the foot sinks in a deep, soft cushion which closes over it, and it requires a good deal of exertion to pull it up again. where this moss happens to be over a marsh, then you sink a couple of feet deep every step you take; to reach a bare rock is delightful, and quite a relief. this afternoon i thought the country looked more terrifyingly wild than ever; the dark clouds, casting their shadows on the stupendous masses of rugged rock, lead the imagination into regions impossible to describe. the scoter ducks, of which i have seen many this day, were partially moulted, and could fly only a short distance, and must be either barren or the young bachelors, as i find _parents_ in full plumage, convincing me that these former moult earlier than the breeding ducks. i have observed this strange fact so often now that i shall say no more about it; i have found it in nearly all the species of the birds here. i do not know of any writer on the history of birds having observed this curious fact before. i have now my hands full of work, and go to bed delighted that to-morrow i shall draw a ptarmigan which i can swear to, as being a united states species. i am much fatigued and wet to the very skin, but, oh! we found the nest of a peregrine falcon on a tremendous cliff, with a young one about a week old, quite white with down; the parents flew fiercely at our eyes. _july ._ by dint of hard work and rising at three, i have drawn a _colymbus septentrionalis_ and a young one, and nearly finished a ptarmigan; this afternoon, however, at half-past five, my fingers could no longer hold my pencil, and i was forced to abandon my work and go ashore for exercise. the fact is that i am growing old too fast; alas! i feel it--and yet work i will, and may god grant me life to see the last plate of my mammoth work finished. i have heard the brown lark (_anthus spinoletta_) sing many a time this day, both on the wing and whilst sitting on the ground. when on the wing it sings while flying very irregularly in zigzags, up and down, etc.; when on a rock (which it prefers) it stands erect, and sings, i think, more clearly. john found the nest of a white-crowned bunting with five eggs; he was creeping through some low bushes after a red-necked diver, and accidentally coming upon it, startled the female, which made much noise and complaint. the nest was like the one lincoln found placed in the moss, under a low bough, and formed of beautiful moss outwardly, dried, fine grass next inside, and exquisitely lined with fibrous roots of a rich yellow color; the eggs are light greenish, slightly sprinkled with reddish-brown, in size about the same as eggs of the song sparrow. this _fringilla_[ ] is the most abundant in this part of labrador. we have seen two swamp sparrows only. we have found two nests of the peregrine falcon, placed high on rocky declivities. coolidge and party shot two oyster catchers; these are becoming plentiful. lieutenant bowen of the "gulnare" brought me a peregrine falcon, and two young of the _alca torda_, the first hatched we have seen, and only two or three days old. _july ._ drawing all day; finished the female grouse and five young, and prepared the male bird. the captain, john, and lincoln, went off this afternoon with a view to camp on a bay about ten miles distant. soon after, we had a change of weather, and, for a wonder, bright lightning and something like summer clouds. when fatigued with drawing i went on shore for exercise, and saw many pretty flowers, amongst them a flowering sea-pea, quite rich in color. dr. kelly from the "gulnare" went with me. captain bayfield and lieutenant bowen went off this morning on a three weeks' expedition in open boats, but with tents and more comforts than i have ever enjoyed in hunting excursions. the mosquitoes quite as numerous as in louisiana. _july ._ rainy, dirty weather, wind east. was at work at half-past three, but disagreeable indeed is my situation during bad weather. the rain falls on my drawing-paper, despite all i can do, and even the fog collects and falls in large drops from the rigging on my table; now and then i am obliged to close my skylight, and then may be said to work almost in darkness. notwithstanding, i finished my cock ptarmigan, and three more young, and now consider it a handsome large plate. john and party returned, cold, wet, and hungry. shot nothing, camp disagreeable, and nothing to relate but that they heard a wolf, and found an island with thousands of the _mormon arcticus_ breeding on it. to-morrow i shall draw the beautiful _colymbus glacialis_ in most perfect plumage. _july ._ the wind east, of course disagreeable; wet and foggy besides. the most wonderful climate in the world. cold as it is, mosquitoes in profusion, plants blooming by millions, and at every step you tread on such as would be looked upon with pleasure in more temperate climes. i wish i were a better botanist, that i might describe them as i do birds. dr. wm. kelly has given me the list of such plants as he has observed on the coast as far as macatine island. i have drawn all day at the loon, a most difficult bird to imitate. for my part, i cannot help smiling at the presumption of some of our authors, who modestly assert that their figures are "up to nature." may god forgive them, and teach me to _copy_ his works; glad and happy shall i then be. lincoln and shattuck brought some fresh-water shells from a large pond inland; they saw a large bird which they took for an owl, but which they could not approach; they also caught a frog, but lost it out of their game bag. _july ._ could i describe one of these dismal gales which blow ever and anon over this desolate country, it would in all probability be of interest to one unacquainted with the inclemency of the climate. nowhere else is the power of the northeast gale, which blows every week on the coast of labrador, so keenly felt as here. i cannot describe it; all i can say is that whilst we are in as fine and safe a harbor as could be wished for, and completely land-locked all round, so strong does the wind blow, and so great its influence on our vessel, that her motion will not allow me to draw, and indeed once this day forced me to my berth, as well as some others of our party. one would imagine all the powers of boreas had been put to work to give us a true idea of what his energies can produce, even in so snug a harbor. what is felt outside i cannot imagine, but greatly fear that few vessels could ride safely before these horrid blasts, that now and then seem strong enough to rend the very rocks asunder. the rain is driven in sheets which seem scarcely to fall on sea or land; i can hardly call it rain, it is rather a mass of water, so thick that all objects at any distance from us are lost to sight every three or four minutes, and the waters comb up and beat about us in our rock-bound harbor as a newly caged bird does against its imprisoning walls. the great black-backed gull alone is seen floating through the storm, screaming loudly and mournfully as it seeks its prey; not another bird is to be seen abroad; the cormorants are all settled in the rocks close to us, the guillemots are deep in the fissures, every eider duck lays under the lee of some point, her brood snugly beneath her opened wings, the loon and the diver have crawled among the rankest weeds, and are patiently waiting for a return of fair weather, the grouse is quite hid under the creeping willow, the great gray owl is perched on the southern declivity of some stupendous rock, and the gale continues as if it would never stop. on rambling about the shores of the numerous bays and inlets of this coast, you cannot but observe immense beds of round stone of all sizes, some of very large dimensions rolled side by side and piled one upon another many deep, cast there by some great force of nature. i have seen many such places, and never without astonishment and awe. if those great boulders are brought from the bottom of the sea, and cast hundreds of yards on shore, this will give some idea of what a gale on the coast of labrador can be, and what the force of the waves. i tried to finish my drawing of the loon, but in vain; i covered my paper to protect it from the rain, with the exception only of the few inches where i wished to work, and yet that small space was not spared by the drops that fell from the rigging on my table; there is no window, and the only light is admitted through hatches. _july ._ the gale, or hurricane, or whatever else the weather of yesterday was, subsided about midnight, and at sunrise this morning it was quite calm, and the horizon fiery red. it soon became cloudy, and the wind has been all round the compass. i wished to go a hundred miles farther north, but the captain says i must be contented here, so i shall proceed with my drawings. i began a cormorant and two young, having sent john and lincoln for them before three this morning; and they procured them in less than half an hour. many of the young are nearly as large as their parents, and yet have scarcely a feather, but are covered with woolly down, of a sooty black. the excursions brought in nothing new. the shore lark has become abundant, but the nest remains still unknown. a tail feather of the red-tailed hawk, young, was found; therefore that species exists here. we are the more surprised that not a hawk nor an owl is seen, as we find hundreds of sea-birds devoured, the wings only remaining. _july ._ at this very moment it is blowing another gale from the east, and it has been raining hard ever since the middle of the day. of course it has been very difficult to draw, but i have finished the cormorant. john and lincoln brought in nothing new, except the nest and ten eggs of a red-breasted merganser. the nest was placed near the edge of a very small fresh-water pond, under the creeping branches of one of this country's fir-trees, the top of which would be about a foot above ground; it is like the eider's nest, but smaller and better fashioned, of weeds and mosses, and warmly lined with down. the eggs are dirty yellow, very smooth shelled, and look like hen's-eggs, only rather stouter. john lay in wait for the parent over two hours, but though he saw her glide off the nest, she was too wary to return. i saw a black-backed gull plunge on a crab as big as my two fists, in about two feet of water, seize it and haul it ashore, where it ate it while i watched it; i could see the crab torn piece by piece, till the shell and legs alone remained. the gull then flew in a direct line towards her nest, distant about a mile, probably to disgorge her food in favor of her young. our two young gulls, which we now have had for nearly a month, act just as vultures would. we throw them a dead duck or even a dead gull, and they tear it to pieces, drinking the blood and swallowing the flesh, each constantly trying to rob the other of the piece of flesh which he has torn from the carcass. they do not drink water, but frequently wash the blood off their bills by plunging them in water, and then violently shaking their heads. they are now half fledged. _july ._ when i rose this morning at half-past three, the wind was northeast, and but little of it. the weather was cloudy and looked bad, as it always does here after a storm. i thought i would spend the day on board the "gulnare," and draw at the ground of my grouse, which i had promised to dr. kelly. however, at seven the wind was west, and we immediately prepared to leave our fine harbor. by eight we passed the "gulnare," bid her officers and crew farewell, beat out of the narrow passage beautifully, and proceeded to sea with the hope of reaching the harbor of little macatine, distant forty-three miles; but ere the middle of the day it became calm, then rain, then the wind to the east again, and all were sea-sick as much as ever. i saw a _lestris_[ ] near the vessel, but of what kind i could not tell,--it flew like a pigeon hawk, alighting on the water like a gull, and fed on some codfish liver which was thrown overboard for it,--and some _thalassidroma_,[ ] but none came within shot, and the sea was too rough to go after them. about a dozen common crossbills, and as many redpolls (_fringilla_ [_acanthis_] _linaria_) came and perched on our top-yards, but i would not have them shot, and none were caught. our young men have been fishing to pass the time, and have caught a number of cod. _july ._ the wind blew cold and sharp from the northeast this morning, and we found ourselves within twenty miles of "little macatine," the sea beating heavily on our bows, as we beat to the windward, tack after tack. at noon it was quite calm, and the wished-for island in sight, but our captain despairs of reaching it to-day. it looks high and horribly rugged, the highest land we have yet seen. at four o'clock, being about a mile and a half distant, we took the green boat, and went off. as we approached, i was surprised to see how small some ducks looked which flew between us and the rocks, so stupendously high were the rough shores under which our little bark moved along. we doubled the cape and came to the entrance of the little macatine harbor, but so small did it appear to me that i doubted if it was the harbor; the shores were terribly wild, fearfully high and rugged, and nothing was heard but the croaking of a pair of ravens and their half-grown brood, mingling with the roar of the surf against the rocky ledges which projected everywhere, and sent the angry waters foaming into the air. the wind now freshened, the "ripley's" sails swelled, and she was gently propelled through the water and came within sight of the harbor, on the rocks of which we stood waiting for her, when all of a sudden she veered, and we saw her topsails hauled in and bent in a moment; we thought she must have seen a sunken rock, and had thus wheeled to avoid it, but soon saw her coming up again and learned that it was merely because she had nearly passed the entrance of the harbor ere aware of it. our harbor is the very representation of the bottom of a large bowl, in the centre of which our vessel is now safely at anchor, surrounded by rocks fully a thousand feet high, and the wildest-looking place i ever was in. after supper we all went ashore; some scampered up the steepest hills next to us, but john, shattuck, and myself went up the harbor, and after climbing to the top of a mountain (for i cannot call it a hill) went down a steep incline, up another hill, and so on till we reached the crest of the island, and surveyed all beneath us. nothing but rocks--barren rocks--wild as the wildest of the apennines everywhere; the moss only a few inches deep, and the soil or decomposed matter beneath it so moist that, wherever there was an incline, the whole slipped from under our feet like an avalanche, and down we slid for feet or yards. the labor was excessive; at the bottom of each dividing ravine the scrub bushes intercepted our way for twenty or thirty paces, over which we had to scramble with great exertion, and on our return we slid down fifty feet or more into an unknown pit of moss and mire, more or less deep. we started a female black-cap warbler from her nest, and i found it with four eggs, placed in the fork of a bush about three feet from the ground; a beautiful little mansion, and i will describe it to-morrow. i am wet through, and find the mosquitoes as troublesome as in the floridas. _july ._ our fine weather of yesterday was lost sometime in the night. as every one was keen to go off and see the country, we breakfasted at three o'clock this morning. the weather dubious, wind east. two boats with the young men moved off in different directions. i sat to finishing the ground of my grouse, and by nine had to shift my quarters, as it rained hard. by ten john and lincoln had returned; these two always go together, being the strongest and most active, as well as the most experienced shots, though coolidge and ingalls are not far behind them in this. they brought a red-necked diver and one egg of that bird; the nest was placed on the edge of a very small pond, not more than ten square yards. our harbor had many _larus zonorhynchus_[ ] (common gull); the captain shot one. i have never seen them so abundant as here. their flight is graceful and elevated; when they descend for food the legs and feet generally drop below the body. they appear to know gunshot distance with wonderful precision, and it is seldom indeed that one comes near enough to be secured. they alight on the water with great delicacy, and swim beautifully. coolidge's party brought a nest of the white-crowned bunting (_fringilla leucophyrs_) and three specimens of the bird, also two _charadrius semipalmatus_. they found an island with many nests of the _phalacrocorax dilophus_,[ ] but only one egg, and thought the nests were old and abandoned. one of the young ravens from the nest flew off at the sight of one of our men, and fell into the water; it was caught and brought to me; it was nearly fledged. i trimmed one of its wings, and turned it loose on the deck, but in attempting to rejoin its mother, who called most loudly from on high on the wing, the young one walked to the end of the bowsprit, jumped into the water, and was drowned; and soon after i saw the poor mother chased by a peregrine falcon with great fury; she made for her nest, and when the falcon saw her alight on the margin of her ledge, it flew off. i never thought that such a hawk could chase with effect so large and so powerful a bird as the raven. some of our men who have been eggers and fishermen have seen these ravens here every season for the last eight or nine years. _july ._ another day of dirty weather, and all obliged to remain on board the greater portion of the time. i managed to draw at my grouse and put in some handsome wild peas, labrador tea-plant, and also one other plant, unknown to me. this afternoon the young men went off, and the result has been three white-crowned buntings, and a female black-capped warbler. our captain did much better for me, for in less than an hour he returned on board with thirty fine codfish, some of which we relished well at our supper. this evening the fog is so thick that we cannot see the summit of the rocks around us. the harbor has been full of gulls the whole day. the captain brought me what he called an esquimau codfish, which perhaps has never been described, and we have _spirited_ him. we found a new species of floweret of the genus _silene_,[ ] but unknown to us. we have now lost four days in succession. _july ._ the mosquitoes so annoyed me last night that i did not even close my eyes. i tried the deck of the vessel, and though the fog was as thick as fine rain, these insects attacked me by thousands, and i returned below, where i continued fighting them till daylight, when i had a roaring fire made and got rid of them. the fog has been as thick as ever, and rain has fallen heavily, though the wind is southwest. i have drawn five eggs of land-birds: that of _falco columbarius_,[ ] _fringilla leucophyrs_,[ ] _anthus spinoletta_,[ ] _sylvia striata_,[ ] and _fringilla savanna_.[ ] i also outlined in the mountainous hills near our vessel, as a background to my willow grouse. john and coolidge with their companions brought in several specimens, but nothing new. coolidge brought two young of the red-necked diver, which he caught _at the bottom_ of a small pond by putting his gun rod on them,--the little things diving most admirably, and going about the bottom with as much apparent ease as fishes would. the captain and i went to an island where the _phalacrocorax dilophus_[ ] were abundant; thousands of young of all sizes, from just hatched to nearly full-grown, all opening their bills and squawking most vociferously; the noise was shocking and the stench intolerable. no doubt exists with us now that the shore lark breeds here; we meet with them very frequently. a beautiful species of violet was found, and i have transplanted several for lucy, but it is doubtful if they will survive the voyage. _july ._ we all, with the exception of the cook, left the "ripley" in three boats immediately after our early breakfast, and went to the main land, distant some five miles. the fog was thick enough, but the wind promised fair weather, and we have had it. as soon as we landed the captain and i went off over a large extent of marsh ground, the first we have yet met with in this country; the earth was wet, our feet sank far in the soil, and walking was extremely irksome. in crossing what is here called a wood, we found a nest of _parus hudsonicus_[ ] containing four young, able to fly; we procured the parents also, and i shall have the pleasure of drawing them to-morrow; this bird has never been figured that i know. their _manners_ resemble those of the black-headed titmouse, or chickadee, and their notes are fully as strong, and clamorous, and constant as those of either of our own species. few birds do i know that possess more active powers. the nest was dug by the bird out of a dead and rotten stump, about five feet from the ground; the aperture, one and a quarter inches in diameter, was as round as if made by a small woodpecker, or a flying-squirrel. the hole inside was four by six inches; at the bottom a bed of chips was found, but the nest itself resembled a purse formed of the most beautiful and softest hair imaginable,--of sables, ermines, martens, hares, etc.; a warmer and snugger apartment no bird could desire, even in this cold country. on leaving the wood we shot a spruce partridge leading her young. on seeing us she ruffled her feathers like a barnyard hen, and rounded within a few feet of us to defend her brood; her very looks claimed our forbearance and clemency, but the enthusiastic desire to study nature prompted me to destroy her, and she was shot, and her brood secured in a few moments; the young very pretty and able to fly. this bird was so very gray that she might almost have been pronounced a different species from those at dennysville, me., last autumn; but this difference is occasioned by its being born so much farther north; the difference is no greater than in _tetrao umbellus_[ ] in maine, and the same bird in western pennsylvania. we crossed a savannah of many miles in extent; in many places the soil appeared to wave under us, and we expected at each step to go through the superficial moss carpet up to our middles in the mire; so wet and so spongy was it that i think i never labored harder in a walk of the same extent. in travelling through this quagmire we met with a small grove of good-sized, fine white-birch trees, and a few pines full forty feet high, quite a novelty to us at this juncture. on returning to our boats the trudging through the great bog was so fatiguing that we frequently lay down to rest; our sinews became cramped, and for my part, more than once i thought i should give up from weariness. one man killed a _falco columbarius_, in the finest plumage i have ever seen. i heard the delightful song of the ruby-crowned wren again and again; what would i give to find the nest of this _northern humming-bird_? we found the fox-colored sparrow in full song, and had our captain been up to birds' ways, he would have found its nest; for one started from his feet, and doubtless from the eggs, as she fluttered off with drooping wings, and led him away from the spot, which could not again be found. john and co. found an island with upwards of two hundred nests of the _larus canus_,[ ] all with eggs, but not a young one hatched. the nests were placed on the bare rock; formed of sea-weed, about six inches in diameter within, and a foot without; some were much thicker and larger than others; in many instances only a foot apart, in others a greater distance was found. the eggs are much smaller than those of _larus marinus_. the eggs of the cayenne tern,[ ] were also found, and a single pair of those remarkable birds, which could not be approached. two ptarmigans were killed; these birds have no whirring of the wings, even when surprised; they flew at the gunners in defence of the young, and one was killed with a gun-rod. the instant they perceive they are observed, when at a distance, they squat or lie flat on the moss, when it is almost impossible to see them unless right under your feet. from the top of a high rock i had fine view of the most extensive and the dreariest wilderness i have ever beheld. it chilled the heart to gaze on these barren lands of labrador. indeed i now dread every change of harbor, so horribly rugged and dangerous is the whole coast and country, especially to the inexperienced man either of sea or land. the mosquitoes, many species of horse-fly, small bees, and black gnats filled the air; the frogs croaked; and yet the thermometer was not high, not above °. this is one of the wonders of this extraordinary country. we have returned to our vessel, wet, shivering with cold, tired, and very hungry. during our absence the cook caught some fine lobsters; but fourteen men, each with a gun, six of which were double-barrelled, searched all day for game, and have not averaged two birds apiece, nineteen being all that were shot to-day. we all conclude that no one man could provide food for himself without extreme difficulty. some animal was seen at a great distance, so far indeed that we could not tell whether it was a wolf or a caribou. _july ._ so cold, rainy, and foggy has this day been that no one went out shooting, and only a ramble on shore was taken by way of escaping the motion of the vessel, which pitched very disagreeably, the wind blowing almost directly in our harbor; and i would not recommend this anchorage to a _painter naturalist_, as charles bonaparte calls me. i have drawn two _parus hudsonicus_, and this evening went on shore with the captain for exercise, and enough have i had. we climbed the rocks and followed from one to another, crossing fissures, holding to the moss hand and foot and with difficulty, for about a mile, when suddenly we came upon the deserted mansion of a labrador sealer. it looked snug outside, and we entered it. it was formed of short slabs, all very well greased with seal oil; an oven without a pipe, a salt-box hung on a wooden peg, a three-legged stool, and a wooden box of a bedstead, with a flour-barrel containing some hundreds of seine-floats, and an old seal seine, completed the list of goods and chattels. three small windows, with four panes of glass each, were still in pretty good order, and so was the low door, which moved on wooden hinges, for which the maker has received no patent, i'll be bound. this cabin made of hewn logs, brought from the main, was well put together, about twelve feet square, well roofed with bark of birch and spruce, thatched with moss, and every aperture rendered air-tight with oakum. but it was deserted and abandoned; the seals are all caught, and the sealers have nought to do here now-a-days. we found a pile of good hard wood close to this abode, which we will have removed on board our vessel to-morrow. i discovered that this cabin had been the abode of two french canadians; first, because their almanac, written with chalk on one of the logs, was in french; and next, the writing was in two very different styles. as we returned to our vessel i paused several times to contemplate the raging waves breaking on the stubborn, precipitous rocks beneath us, and thought how dreadful they would prove to any one who should be wrecked on so inhospitable a shore. no vessel, the captain assured me, could stand the sea we gazed upon at that moment, and i fully believed him, for the surge dashed forty feet or more high against the precipitous rocks. the ravens flew above us, and a few gulls beat to windward by dint of superior sailing; the horizon was hid by fog, so thick there, and on the crest of the island, that it looked like dense smoke. though i wore thick mittens and very heavy clothing, i felt chilly with the cold. john's violin notes carry my thoughts far, far from labrador, i assure thee. _july ._ labrador deserves credit for _one_ fine day! to-day has been calm, warm, and actually such a day as one might expect in the middle states about the month of may. i drew from half-past three till ten this morning. the young men went off early, and the captain and myself went to the island next to us, but saw few birds: a brown lark, some gulls, and the two white-crowned buntings. in some small bays which we passed we found the stones thrown up by the sea in immense numbers, and of enormous size. these stones i now think are probably brought on shore in the masses of ice during the winter storms. these icebergs, then melting and breaking up, leave these enormous pebble-shaped stones, from ten to one hundred feet deep. when i returned to my drawing the captain went fishing, and caught thirty-seven cod in less than an hour. the wind rose towards evening, and the boats did not get in till nine o'clock, and much anxiety did i feel about them. coolidge is an excellent sailor, and john too, for that matter, but very venturesome; and lincoln equally so. the chase, as usual, poor; two canadian grouse in moult,--these do moult earlier than the willow grouse,[ ]--some white-throated sparrows, yellow-rump warblers, the green black-cap flycatcher, the small wood pewee (?). i think this a new species, but cannot swear to it.[ ] the young of the tawny thrush were seen with the mother, almost full-grown. all the party are very tired, especially ingalls, who was swamped up to his arm-pits and was pulled out by his two companions; tired as they are, they have yet energy to eat tremendously. _july ._ i write now from a harbor which has no name, for we have mistaken it for the right one, which lies two miles east of this; but it matters little, for the coast of labrador is all alike comfortless, cold and foggy, yet grand. we left little macatine at five this morning, with a stiff southwest breeze, and by ten our anchor was dropped here. we passed captain bayfield and his two boats engaged in the survey of the coast. we have been on shore; no birds but about a hundred eider ducks and red-breasted mergansers in the inner bay, with their broods all affrighted as our boats approached. returning on board, found captain bayfield and his lieutenants, who remained to dine with us. they were short of provisions, and we gave them a barrel of ship-bread, and seventy pounds of beef. i presented the captain with a ham, with which he went off to their camp on some rocks not far distant. this evening we paid him a visit; he and his men are encamped in great comfort. the tea-things were yet arranged on the iron-bound bed, the trunks served as seats, and the sail-cloth clothes-bags as pillows. the moss was covered with a large tarred cloth, and neither wind nor damp was admitted. i gazed on the camp with much pleasure, and it was a great enjoyment to be with men of education and refined manners, such as are these officers of the royal navy; it was indeed a treat. we talked of the country where we were, of the beings best fitted to live and prosper here, not only of our species, but of all species, and also of the enormous destruction of everything here, except the rocks; the aborigines themselves melting away before the encroachments of the white man, who looks without pity upon the decrease of the devoted indian, from whom he rifles home, food, clothing, and life. for as the deer, the caribou, and all other game is killed for the dollar which its skin brings in, the indian must search in vain over the devastated country for that on which he is accustomed to feed, till, worn out by sorrow, despair, and want, he either goes far from his early haunts to others, which in time will be similarly invaded, or he lies on the rocky seashore and dies. we are often told rum kills the indian; i think not; it is oftener the want of food, the loss of hope as he loses sight of all that was once abundant, before the white man intruded on his land and killed off the wild quadrupeds and birds with which he has fed and clothed himself since his creation. nature herself seems perishing. labrador must shortly be depeopled, not only of aboriginal man, but of all else having life, owing to man's cupidity. when no more fish, no more game, no more birds exist on her hills, along her coasts, and in her rivers, then she will be abandoned and deserted like a worn-out field. _july ._ at six this morning, captain bayfield and lieutenant bowen came alongside in their respective boats to bid us farewell, being bound westward to the "gulnare." we embarked in three boats and proceeded to examine a small harbor about a mile east, where we found a whaling schooner of fifty-five tons from cape gaspé in new brunswick. when we reached it we found the men employed at boiling blubber in what, to me, resembled sugar boilers. the blubber lay heaped on the shore in chunks of six to twenty pounds, and looked filthy enough. the captain, or owner, of the vessel appeared to be a good, sensible man of that class, and cut off for me some strips of the skin of the whale from under the throat, with large and curious barnacles attached to it. they had struck four whales, of which three had sunk and were lost; this, i was told, was a very rare occurrence. we found at this place a french canadian, a seal-catcher, who gave me the following information. this portion of labrador is free to any one to settle on, and he and another man had erected a small cabin, have seal-nets, and traps to catch foxes, and guns to shoot bears and wolves. they carry their quarry to quebec, receive fifty cents per gallon for seal oil, and from three to five guineas for black and silver-fox skins, and other furs in proportion. from november till spring they kill seals in great numbers. two thousand five hundred were killed by seventeen men in three days; this great feat was done with short sticks, each seal being killed with a single blow on the snout, while resting on the edges of the field ice. the seals are carried to the camp on sledges drawn by esquimaux dogs, that are so well trained that on reaching home they push the seals off the sledge with their noses, and return to the hunters with despatch. (remember, my lucy, this is hearsay.) at other times the seals are driven into nets one after another, until the poor animals become so hampered and confined that, the gun being used, they are easily and quickly despatched. he showed me a spot within a few yards of his cabin where, last winter, he caught six silver-gray foxes; these had gone to quebec with his partner, who was daily expected. bears and caribous abound during winter, as well as wolves, hares, and porcupines. the hare (i suppose the northern one) is brown at this season, and white in winter; the wolves are mostly of a dun color, very ferocious and daring. a pack of about thirty followed a man to his cabin, and have more than once killed his dogs at his very door. i was the more surprised at this, as the dogs he had were as large as any wolves i have ever seen. these dogs are extremely tractable; so much so that, when harnessed to a sledge, the leader starts at the word of command, and the whole pack gallops off swiftly enough to convey a man sixty miles in the course of seven or eight hours. they howl like wolves, and are not at all like our common dogs. they were extremely gentle, came to us, jumped on us, and caressed us, as if we were old acquaintances. they do not take to the water, and are only fitted for drawing sledges and chasing caribou. they are the only dogs which at all equal the caribou in speed. as soon as winter's storms and thick ice close the harbors and the spaces between the mainland and the islands, the caribous are seen moving in great gangs, first to the islands, where, the snow being more likely to be drifted, the animal finds places where the snow has blown away, and he can more easily reach the moss, which at this season is its only food. as the season increases in severity, the caribous follow a due northwestern direction, and gradually reach a comparatively milder climate; but nevertheless, on their return in march and april, which return is as regular as the migration of birds, they are so poor and emaciated that the white man himself takes pity on them, and does not kill them. (merciful beings, who spare life when the flesh is off the bones, and no market for the bones is at hand.) the otter is tolerably abundant; these are principally trapped at the foot of the waterfalls to which they resort, these places being the latest to freeze, and the first to thaw. the marten and the sable are caught, but are by no means abundant, and every winter makes a deep impression on beast as well as on man. these frenchmen receive their supplies from quebec, where they send their furs and oil. at this time, which the man here calls "the idle time," he lolls about his cabin, lies in the sunshine like a seal, eats, drinks, and sleeps his life away, careless of all the world, and the world, no doubt, careless of him. his dogs are his only companions until his partner's return, who, for all i know, is not himself better company than a dog. they have placed their very small cabin in a delightful situation, under the protection of an island, on the southwestern side of the main shore, where i was surprised to find the atmosphere quite warm, and the vegetation actually rank; for i saw plants with leaves fully a foot in breadth, and grasses three feet high. the birds had observed the natural advantages of this little paradise, for here we found the musical winter wren in full song, the first time in labrador, the white-crowned sparrow, or bunting, singing melodiously from every bush, the fox-tail sparrow, the black-cap warbler, the shore lark nesting, but too cunning for us; the white-throated sparrow and a peregrine falcon, besides about half a dozen of lincoln's finch. this afternoon the wind has been blowing a tremendous gale; our anchors have dragged with sixty fathoms of chain out. yet one of the whaler's boats came to us with six men, who wished to see my drawings, and i gratified them willingly; they, in return, have promised to let me see a whale before cut up, if they should catch one ere we leave this place for bras d'or. crows are not abundant here; the ravens equal them in number, and peregrine falcons are more numerous. the horse-flies are so bad that they drove our young men on board. _july ._ we visited to-day the seal establishment of a scotchman, samuel robertson, situated on what he calls sparr point, about six miles east of our anchorage. he received us politely, addressed me by name, and told me that he had received intimation of my being on a vessel bound to this country, through the english and canadian newspapers. this man has resided here twenty years, married a labrador lady, daughter of a monsieur chevalier of bras d'or, a good-looking woman, and has six children. his house is comfortable, and in a little garden he raises a few potatoes, turnips, and other vegetables. he appears to be lord of these parts and quite contented with his lot. he told me his profits last year amounted to £ . he will not trade with the indians, of whom we saw about twenty, of the montagnais tribes, and employs only white serving-men. his seal-oil tubs were full, and he was then engaged in loading two schooners for quebec with that article. i bought from him the skin of a cross fox for three dollars. he complained of the american fishermen very much, told us they often acted as badly as pirates towards the indians, the white settlers, and the eggers, all of whom have been more than once obliged to retaliate, when bloody encounters have been the result. he assured me he had seen a fisherman's crew kill thousands of guillemots in the course of a day, pluck the feathers from the breasts, and throw the bodies into the sea. he also told me that during mild winters his little harbor is covered with pure white gulls (the silvery), but that all leave at the first appearance of spring. the travelling here is effected altogether on the snow-covered ice, by means of sledges and esquimaux dogs, of which mr. robertson keeps a famous pack. with them, at the rate of about six miles an hour, he proceeds to bras d'or seventy-five miles, with his wife and six children, in one sledge drawn by ten dogs. fifteen miles north of this place, he says, begins a lake represented by the indians as four hundred miles long by one hundred broad. this sea-like lake is at times as rough as the ocean in a storm; it abounds with wild geese, and the water-fowl breed on its margins by millions. we have had a fine day, but very windy; mr. r. says this july has been a remarkable one for rough weather. the caribou flies have driven the hunters on board; tom lincoln, who is especially attacked by them, was actually covered with blood, and looked as if he had had a gouging fight with some rough kentuckians. mr. r.'s newspapers tell of the ravages of cholera in the south and west, of the indisposition of general jackson at the tremont house, boston, etc.; thus even here the news circulates now and then. the mosquitoes trouble me so much that in driving them away i bespatter my paper with ink, as thou seest, god bless thee! good-night. _july ._ the _charadrius semipalmatus_ breeds on the tops or sides of the high hills, and amid the moss of this country. i have not found the nest, but have been so very near the spot where it undoubtedly was, that the female has moved before me, trailing her wings and spreading her tail to draw me away; uttering a plaintive note, the purpose of which i easily conceive. the shore lark has served us the same way; that nest must also be placed amid the deep mosses, over which these beautiful birds run as nimbly as can be imagined. they have the power of giving two notes, so very different from each other that a person not seeing the bird would be inclined to believe that two birds of different species were at hand. often after these notes comes a sweet trill; all these i have thought were in intimation of danger, and with the wish to induce the sitting mate to lie quiet and silent. tom lincoln, john, and i went on shore after two bears, which i heard distinctly, but they eluded our pursuit by swimming from an island to the main land. coolidge's party went to the murre rocks, where the guillemots breed, and brought about fifteen hundred eggs. shattuck killed two gannets with a stick; they could have done the same with thousands of guillemots when they landed; the birds scrambled off in such a hurried, confused, and frightened manner as to render them what charles bonaparte calls _stupid_, and they were so terrified they could scarcely take to wing. the island was literally covered with eggs, dung, and feathers, and smelt so shockingly that ingalls and coolidge were quite sick. coolidge killed a white-winged crossbill on these murre rocks; for several weeks we have seen these birds pass over us, but have found none anywhere on shore. we have had a beautiful day, and would have sailed for bras d'or, but our anchor stuck into a rock, and just as we might have sailed, a heavy fog came on, so here we are. [illustration: john woodhouse audubon. from the miniature by f. cruikshank, .] _july ._ i did not write last night because we were at sea and the motion was too disagreeable, and my mind was as troubled as the ocean. we left baie de portage before five in the morning, with a good breeze, intending to come to at chevalier's settlement, forty-seven miles; but after sailing thirty, the wind failed us, it rained and blew, with a tremendous sea which almost shook the masts out of our good vessel, and about eight we were abreast of bonne espérance; but as our pilot knew as much of this harbor as he did of the others, which means _nothing at all_, our captain thought prudent to stand off and proceed to bras d'or. the coast we have followed is like that we have hitherto seen, crowded with islands of all sizes and forms, against which the raging waves break in a frightful manner. we saw few birds, with the exception of gannets, which were soaring about us most of the day feeding on capelings, of which there were myriads. i had three _uria troile_ thrown overboard alive to observe their actions. two fluttered on top of the water for twenty yards or so, then dove, and did not rise again for fully a hundred yards from the vessel. the third went in head-foremost, like a man diving, and swam _under the surface_ so smoothly and so rapidly that it looked like a fish with wings. at daylight we found ourselves at the mouth of bras d'or harbor, where we are snugly moored. our pilot not knowing a foot of the ground, we hoisted our ensign, and captain billings came to us in his hampton boat and piloted us in. bras d'or is the grand rendezvous of almost all the fishermen that resort to this coast for codfish. we found here a flotilla of about one hundred and fifty sail, principally fore-and-aft schooners, a few pickaxes, etc., mostly from halifax and the eastern portions of the united states. there was a life and stir about this harbor which surprised us after so many weeks of wilderness and loneliness--the boats moving to and fro, going after fish, and returning loaded to the gunwales, others with seines, others with capelings for bait. a hundred or more were anchored out about a mile from us, hauling the poor codfish by thousands; hundreds of men engaged at cleaning and salting, their low jokes and songs resembling those of the billingsgate gentry. on entering the port i observed a large flock of small gulls, which species i could not ascertain, also _lestris_ of two species, one small and one large. as soon as breakfast was over, the young men went ashore to visit mr. jones, the owner of the seal-fishing establishment here. he received them well--a rough, brown nova scotia man, the lord of this portion of labrador--and he gave john and the others a good deal of information. four or five species of grouse, the velvet duck, the _anas glacialis_,[ ] and _fuligula histrionica_,[ ] the wild goose, and others breed in the swampy deserts at the head waters of the rivers, and around the edges of the lakes and ponds which everywhere abound. he also knew of my coming. john and coolidge joined parties and brought me eight red-polls, _fringilla linaria_, old and young, which i will draw to-morrow. query, is it the same which is found in europe? their note resembles that of the siskin; their flight that of the siskin and linnet combined. the young were as large as the old, and could fly a mile at a stretch; they resort to low bushes along the edges of ponds and brooks; the hunters saw more than they shot. they brought also savannah finches, and white-crowned sparrows. they saw a fine female _tetrao canadensis_, not quite so gray as the last; the young flew well and alighted on trees and bushes, and john would not allow any of them to be shot, they were so trusting. they saw a willow grouse, which at sight of them, though at some distance, flew off and flew far; on being started again, flew again to a great distance with a loud, cackling note, but no whirr of the wings. they were within three hundred yards of an eagle, which, from its dark color and enormous size and extent of wings, they took to be a female washington eagle.[ ] i have made many inquiries, but every one tells me eagles are most rare. it sailed away over the hills slowly and like a vulture. after drawing two figures of the female white-winged crossbill, i paid a visit to the country seat of mr. jones.[ ] the snow is still to be seen in patches on every hill around us; the borders of the water courses are edged with grasses and weeds as rank of growth as may be seen in the middle states in like situations. i saw a small brook filled with fine trout; but what pleased me best, i found a nest of the shore lark; it was embedded in moss so much the color of the birds, that when these sit on it, it is next to impossible to observe them; it was buried to its full depth, about seven inches,--composed outwardly of mosses of different sorts; within, fine grass circularly arranged, and mixed with many large, soft duck feathers. these birds breed on high table-lands, one pair to a certain district. the place where i found the nest was so arid, poor and rocky that nothing grew there. we see the high mountains of newfoundland, the summits, at present, far above the clouds. two weeks since, the ice filled the very harbor where we now are, and not a vessel could approach; since then the ice has sunk, and none is to be seen far or near. _july ._ it has blown a tremendous gale the whole day; fortunately i had two _fringilla linaria_ to draw. the adult male alone possesses those rich colors on the breast; the female has only the front head crimson. they resemble the cross-bills, notwithstanding bonaparte, nuttall, and others to the contrary. john kept me company and skinned fourteen small birds. mr. jones dined with us, after which the captain and the rest of our party went off through the storm to blanc sablons, four miles distant. this name is turned into "nancy belong" by the fishermen, who certainly tell very strange tales respecting this country. mr. jones entertained us by his account of travelling with dogs during winter. they are harnessed, he says, with a leather collar, a belly and back band, through the upper part of which passes the line of sealskin, which is attached to the sledge, and acts for a rein as well as a trace. an odd number of dogs always form the gang, from seven up, according to the distance of the journey, or the weight of the load; each dog is estimated to draw two hundred pounds, at a rate of five or six miles an hour. the leader is always a well-broken dog, and is placed ahead of the pack with a draught-line of from six to ten fathoms' length, and the rest with gradually shorter ones, to the last, which is about eight feet from the sledge; they are not, however, coupled, as often represented in engravings, but are each attached separately, so that when in motion they are more like a flock of partridges, all flying loosely and yet in the same course. they always travel at a gallop, no matter what the state of the country may be, and to go down-hill is both difficult and dangerous; and at times it is necessary for the driver to guide the sledge with his feet, or with a strong staff planted in the snow as the sledge proceeds; and when heavily laden, and the descent great, the dogs are often taken off, and the sledge glides down alone, the man steering with his toes, and lying flat on his face, thus descending head-foremost like boys on their sleds. the dogs are so well acquainted with the courses and places in the neighborhood, that they never fail to take their master and his sledge to their destination, even should a tremendous snow-storm occur whilst under way; and it is always safer to leave one's fate to the instinct which these fine animals possess than to trust to human judgment, for it has been proved more than once that men who have made their dogs change their course have been lost, and sometimes died, in consequence. when travellers meet, both parties come circuitously, and as slowly as possible towards each other, which gives the separate packs the opportunity of observing that their masters are acquainted, when they meet without fighting, a thing which almost always occurs if the dogs meet unexpectedly. mr. jones lost a son of fourteen, a few years ago, in a snow-storm, owing to the servant in whose care he was, imprudently turning the dogs from their course; the dogs obeyed the command and struck towards hudson's bay; when the weather cleared the servant perceived his mistake, but alas! too late; the food was exhausted, and the lad gradually sank, and died in the arms of the man. _july ._ at daylight this morning the storm had abated, and although it was almost calm, the sea was high, and the "ripley" tossed and rolled in a way which was extremely unpleasant to me. breakfast over, we all proceeded to mr. jones' establishment with a view to procuring more information, and to try to have some of his men make esquimaux boots and garments for us. we received little information, and were told no work could be done for us; on asking if his son, a youth of about twenty-three, could be hired to guide some of us into the interior some forty miles, mr. jones said the boy's mother had become so fearful of accidents since the loss of the other son that he could not say without asking her permission, which she would not grant. we proceeded over the table-lands towards some ponds. i found three young shore larks just out of the nest, and not yet able to fly; they hopped pretty briskly over the moss, uttering a soft _peep_, to which the parent bird responded at every call. i am glad that it is in my power to make a figure of these birds in summer, winter, and young plumage. we also found the breeding-place of the _fuligula histrionica_ in the corner of a small pond in some low bushes. by another pond we found the nest of the velvet duck, called here the white-winged coot; it was placed on the moss among the grass, close to the water; it contained feathers, but no down as others. the female had six young, five of which we procured. they were about a week old, and i could readily recognize the male birds; they all had the white spot under the eye. four were killed with one shot; one went on shore and squatted in the grass, where lincoln caught it; but i begged for its life, and we left it to the care of its mother, and of its maker. we also found the breeding-place of _fuligula glacialis_ by a very large pond; these breed in companies and are shyer than in the states. the pied duck[ ] breeds here on the top of the low bushes, but the season is so far advanced we have not found its nest. mr. jones tells me the king duck passes here northwards in the early part of march, returning in october, flying high, and in lines like the canada goose. the snow goose is never seen here; none, indeed, but oceanic species are seen here. (i look on _anas fusca_[ ] as an oceanic species.) mr. jones has never been more than a mile in the interior, and knows nothing of it. there are two species of woodpecker here, and only two, the three-toed and the downy. when i began writing it was calm, now it blows a hurricane, rains hard, and the sea is as high as ever. _july ._ another horrid, stormy day. the very fishermen complain. five or six vessels left for further east, but i wish and long to go west. the young men, except coolidge, went off this morning after an early breakfast to a place called port eau, eighteen miles distant, to try to procure some esquimaux dresses, particularly moccasins. i felt glad when the boat which took them across the bay returned, as it assured me they were at least on terra firma. i do not expect them till to-morrow night, and i greatly miss them. when all our party is present, music, anecdotes, and jokes, journalizing and comparing notes, make the time pass merrily; but this evening the captain is on deck, coolidge is skinning a bird, and i am writing that which is scarcely worth recording, with a horridly bad patent pen. i have to-day drawn three young shore larks, _alauda alpestris_, the first ever portrayed by man. i did wish to draw an adult male, in full summer plumage, but could not get a handsome one. in one month all these birds must leave this coast, or begin to suffer. the young of many birds are full-fledged, and scamper over the rocks; the ducks alone seem backward, but being more hardy can stay till october, when deep snows drive them off, ready or not for their laborious journey. i saw this afternoon two, or a pair, of the _phalaropus hyperboreus_;[ ] they were swimming in a small fresh-water pond, feeding on insects, and no doubt had their nest close by, as they evinced great anxiety at my approach. i did not shoot at them, and hope to find the nest or young; but to find nests in the moss is a difficult job, for the whole country looks alike. "the curlews are coming;" this is as much of a saying here as that about the wild pigeons in kentucky. what species of curlew, i know not yet, for none have been killed, but one of our men, who started with john and party, broke down, and was sent back; he assured me that he had seen some with bills about four inches long, and the body the size of a wild pigeon. the accounts given of these curlews border on the miraculous, and i shall say nothing about them till i have tested the fishermen's stories.[ ] it is now calm, for a wonder, but as cold as vengeance, on deck; we have a good fire in the stove, and i am roasting on one side and freezing on the other. the water of our harbor is actually coated with oil, and the bottom fairly covered with the refuse of the codfish; the very air i breathe and smell is impregnated with essence of codfish. _july ._ it was a beautiful morning when i arose, and such a thing as a beautiful morning in this mournful country almost amounts to a phenomenon. the captain and myself went off to an island and searched for an _alauda alpestris_, and found a good number of old and young, associated, both equally wild. the young were led off with great care by the adults, and urged to squat quietly till nearly within gunshot, when at a "tweet" from the parent they took to the wing and were off. these birds are very pugnacious, and attack a rival at once, when both come to the scratch with courage and tenacity. i saw one beautiful male in full summer dress, which i secured, and have drawn, with a portion of moss. i intend to add two drawn in winter plumage. this afternoon we visited mr. jones and his wife, a good motherly woman, who talked well. our young men returned from port eau fatigued, and, as usual, hungry; complained, as i expected, of the country, the climate, and the scarcity of birds and plants, and not a pair of moccasins to be bought; so lincoln and shattuck are now barefooted. they brought a _lestris pomarinus_,[ ] female, a full-grown young raven, and some finches. coolidge's party had some lesser red-polls, several swamp sparrows, three small black-cap green flycatchers, black-cap warblers, old and young, the last fully grown, a _fringilla lincolnii_, and a pine grosbeak. they saw many gulls of various species, and also an iceberg of immense size. there is at port eau a large fishing establishment belonging to fishermen who come annually from the island of jersey, and have a large store with general supplies. ere i go to rest let me tell thee that it is now blowing a young hurricane, and the prospect for to-morrow is a bad one. a few moments ago the report of a cannon came to our ears from the sea, and it is supposed that it was from the "gulnare." i wish she was at our side and snugly moored as we are. _july ._ another horrid hurricane, accompanied with heavy rain. i could not go on with my drawing either in the cabin or the hold, though everything was done that could be thought of, to assist me in the attempt; not a thing to relate, as not one of us could go on shore. _august ._ bras d'or, coast of labrador.[ ] i have drawn my _lestris pomarinus_, but under difficulties; the weather has quite changed; instead of a hurricane from the east, we have had one all day from the southwest, but no rain. at noon we were visited by an iceberg, which has been drifting within three miles of us, and is now grounded at the entrance of the bay; it looks like a large man-of-war dressed in light green muslin, instead of canvas, and when the sun strikes it, it glitters with intense brilliancy. when these transient monuments of the sea happen to tumble or roll over, the fall is tremendous, and the sound produced resembles that of loud, distant thunder; these icebergs are common here all summer, being wafted south with every gale that blows; as the winds are usually easterly, the coast of newfoundland is more free from them than that of labrador. i have determined to make a last thorough search of the mountain tops, plains and ponds, and if no success ensues, to raise anchor and sail towards the united states once more; and blessed will the day be when i land on those dear shores, where all i long for in the world exists and lives, i hope. we have been on shore for an hour for exercise, but the wind blew so fiercely we are glad to return. _august ._ noon. the thermometer has risen to °, but it has rained hard all day; about dinner time a very handsome schooner from boston, the size of ours, called the "wizard," commanded by captain wilcomb of ipswich, arrived, only nine days from boston; but to our sorrow and disappointment, not a letter or paper did she bring, but we learned with pleasure that our great cities are all healthy, and for this intelligence i thank god. the "wizard" brought two young italian clerks as supercargo, who are going to purchase fish; they visited us and complained bitterly of the cold and the general appearance of the country. the retrograde migration of many birds has already commenced, more especially that of the lesser species both of land and water birds. _august ._ i was suddenly awakened last night about one o'clock by the shock which our vessel received from the "wizard," which had broken her stern chain in the gale, which at that time was raging most furiously. our captain was up in a moment, the vessels were parted and tranquillity was restored, but to john's sorrow, and my vexation, our beautiful and most comfortable gig had been struck by the "wizard," and her bows stove in; at daylight it rained hard and the gale continued. lincoln went on shore and shot some birds, but nothing of importance. this afternoon we all went ashore, through a high and frightful sea which drenched us to the skin, and went to the table-lands; there we found the true esquimau curlew, _numenius borealis_, so carelessly described in bonaparte's synopsis. this species here takes the place of the migratory pigeon; it has now arrived; i have seen many hundreds this afternoon, and shot seven. they fly in compact bodies, with beautiful evolutions, overlooking a great extent of country ere they make choice of a spot on which to alight; this is done wherever a certain berry, called here "curlew berry,"[ ] proves to be abundant. here they balance themselves, call, whistle, and of common accord come to the ground, as the top of the country here must be called. they devour every berry, and if pursued squat in the manner of partridges. a single shot starts the whole flock; off they fly, ramble overhead for a great distance ere they again alight. this rambling is caused by the scarcity of berries. this is the same bird of which three specimens were sent to me by william oakes, of ipswich, mass. the iceberg has been broken into thousands of pieces by the gale. _august ._ still raining as steadily as ever; the morning was calm, and on shore the mosquitoes were shockingly bad, though the thermometer indicates only °. i have been drawing at the _numenius borealis_; i find them difficult birds to represent. the young men went on shore and brought me four more; every one of the lads observed to-day the great tendency these birds have, in squatting to elude the eye, to turn the tail towards their pursuer, and to lay the head flat. this habit is common to many of the _tringas_, and some of the _charadrius_. this species of curlew, the smallest i ever saw, feeds on the berries it procures, with a rapidity equalled only by that of the passenger pigeon; in an instant all the ripe berries on the plant are plucked and swallowed, and the whole country is cleared of these berries as our western woods are of the mast. in their evolutions they resemble pigeons also, sweeping over the ground, cutting backward and forward in the most interesting manner, and now and then poising in the air like a hawk in sight of quarry. there is scarcely any difference in the appearance of the adult and the young. the _alauda alpestris_ of this season has now made such progress in its growth that the first moulting is so forward that the small wing-coverts and secondaries are already come, and have assumed the beautiful rosy tints of the adults in patches at these parts; a most interesting state of their plumage, probably never seen by any naturalist before. it is quite surprising to see how quickly the growth is attained of every living thing in this country, either animal or vegetable. in six weeks i have seen the eggs laid, the birds hatched, their first moult half over, their association in flocks, and preparations begun for their leaving the country. that the creator should have commanded millions of delicate, diminutive, tender creatures to cross immense spaces of country to all appearance a thousand times more congenial to them than this, to cause them to people, as it were, this desolate land for a time, to enliven it by the songs of the sweet feathered musicians for two months at most, and by the same command induce them to abandon it almost suddenly, is as wonderful as it is beautiful. the fruits are now ripe, yet six weeks ago the whole country was a sheet of snow, the bays locked in ice, the air a constant storm. now the grass is rich in growth, at every step flowers are met with, insects fill the air, the snow-banks are melting; now and then an appearance as of summer does exist, but in thirty days all is over; the dark northern clouds will enwrap the mountain summits; the rivulets, the ponds, the rivers, the bays themselves will begin to freeze; heavy snowfalls will cover all these shores, and nature will resume her sleeping state, nay, more than that, one of desolation and death. wonderful! wonderful! but this marvellous country must be left to an abler pen than mine to describe. the _tringa maritima_[ ] and _tringa pusilla_[ ] were both shot in numbers this day; the young are now as large as the old, and we see little flocks everywhere. we heard the "gulnare" was at bonne espérance, twenty miles west of us; i wish she was here, i should much like to see her officers again. _august ._ this has been a fine day, no hurricane. i have finished two labrador curlews, but not the ground. a few curlews were shot, and a black-breasted plover. john shot a shore lark that had almost completed its moult; it appears to me that northern birds come to maturity sooner than southern ones, yet the reverse is the case in our own species. birds of the tringa kind are constantly passing over our heads in small bodies bound westward, some of the same species which i observed in the floridas in october. the migration of birds is perhaps much more wonderful than that of fishes, almost all of which go feeling their way along the shores and return to the very same river, creek, or even hole to deposit their spawn, as birds do to their former nest; but the latter do not _feel_ their way, but launching high in air go at once and correctly too, across vast tracts of country, yet at once stopping in portions heretofore their own, and of which they know by previous experiences the comforts and advantages. we have had several arrivals of vessels, some so heavily loaded with fish that the water runs over their decks; others, in ballast, have come to purchase fish. _august ._ i now sit down to post my poor book, while a heavy gale is raging furiously around our vessel. my reason for not writing at night is that i have been drawing so constantly, often seventeen hours a day, that the weariness of my body at night has been unprecedented, by such work at least. at times i felt as if my physical powers would abandon me; my neck, my shoulders, and, more than all, my fingers, were almost useless through actual fatigue at drawing. who would believe this?--yet nothing is more true. when at the return of dawn my spirits called me out of my berth, my body seemed to beg my mind to suffer it to rest a while longer; and as dark forced me to lay aside my brushes i immediately went to rest as if i had walked sixty-five miles that day, as i have done _a few times_ in my stronger days. yesternight, when i rose from my little seat to contemplate my work and to judge of the effect of it compared with the nature which i had been attempting to copy, it was the affair of a moment; and instead of waiting, as i always like to do, until that hazy darkness which is to me the best time to judge of the strength of light and shade, i went at once to rest as if delivered from the heaviest task i ever performed. the young men think my fatigue is added to by the fact that i often work in wet clothes, but i have done that all my life with no ill effects. no! no! it is that i am no longer young. but i thank god that i did accomplish my task; my drawings are finished to the best of my ability, the skins well prepared by john. we have been to paroket island to procure the young of the _mormon arcticus_. as we approached the breeding-place, the air was filled with these birds, and the water around absolutely covered with them, while on the rocks were thousands, like sentinels on the watch. i took a stand, loaded and shot twenty-seven times, and killed twenty-seven birds, singly and on the wing, without missing a shot; as friend bachman would say, "pretty fair, old jostle!" the young men laughed, and said the birds were so thick no one could miss if he tried; however, none of them did so well. we had more than we wanted, but the young were all too small to draw with effect. nearly every bird i killed had a fish in its beak, closely held by the head, and the body dangling obliquely in the air. these fish were all of the kind called here _lints_, a long slender fish now in shoals of millions. how many must the multitude of mormons inhabiting this island destroy daily? whilst flying they all issue a rough croak, but none dropped the fish, nor indeed did they let it go when brought to the earth. the _larus marinus_ have now almost all gone south with their young; indeed, very few gulls of any sort are now to be seen. whilst on the island we saw a hawk pounce on a puffin and carry it off. curlews have increased in numbers, but during two fair days we had they could not be approached; indeed, they appear to be so intent on their passage south that whenever the weather permits they are seen to strike high in the air across the harbor. the gale is so severe that our anchors have dragged forty or fifty yards, but by letting out still more chain we are now safe. it blows and rains so hard that it is impossible to stand in the bow of our vessel. but this is not all,--who, _now_, will deny the existence of the labrador falcon?[ ] yes, my lucy, one more new species is on the list of the "birds of america," and may we have the comfort of seeing its beautiful figure multiplied by havell's engraver. this bird (both male and female) was shot by john whilst on an excursion with all our party, and on the th inst., when i sat till after twelve o'clock that night to outline one of them to save daylight the next day to color it, as i have done hundreds of times before. john shot them on the wing, whilst they were in company with their two young ones. the birds, one would be tempted to believe, had never seen a man before, for these affectionate parents dashed towards the gunners with fierce velocity, and almost instantly died from the effects of two well-directed shots. all efforts to procure the young birds were ineffectual; they were full grown, and as well as could be seen, exactly resembled the dead ones. the whole group flew much like the peregrine falcon, which indeed resembles them much in form, but neither in size nor color. sometimes they hover almost high in air like a small sparrow hawk when watching some object fit for prey on the ground, and now and then cry much like the latter, but louder in proportion with the difference of size in the two species. several times they alighted on stakes in the sandbar at the entrance of bras d'or river, and stood not as hawks generally do, uprightly, but horizontally and much like a _lestris_ or a tern. beneath their nest we found the remains of _alca torda_, _uria troile_, and _mormon arcticus_--all of which are within their reach on an island here called parocket island--also the remains of curlews and ptarmigans. the nest was so situated that it could not be reached, only seen into. both birds were brought to me in excellent order. no more is known of this bird, i believe. my evening has been enlivened by the two italians from the "wizard," who have been singing many songs to the accompaniment of john's violin. _august . at sea, gulf of st. lawrence._ we are now, seven of the evening, fully fifty miles from the coast of labrador. we left our harbor at eleven o'clock with a fair breeze; the storm of last night had died away and everything looked promising. the boats were sent ashore for a supply of fresh water; john and coolidge went after curlews; the rest of the crew, assisted by that of the "wizard," raised the anchors, and all was soon in readiness. the bottom of our vessel had been previously scraped and cleaned from the thousands of barnacles, which, with a growth of seaweeds, seemed to feed upon her as they do on the throat of a whale. the two italians and captain wilcomb came on board to bid us adieu; we hoisted sail, and came out of the labrador harbor. seldom in my life have i left a country with as little regret as i do this; the next nearest to this was east florida, after my excursions up the st. john's river. as we sailed away, and i saw, probably for the last time, the high rugged hills partly immersed in masses of the thick fog that usually hovers over them, and knew that now the bow of our truly fine vessel was turned towards the place where thou, my lucy, art waiting for me, i felt rejoiced, although yet far away. now we are sailing in full sight of the northwestern coast of newfoundland, the mountains of which are high, with drifted snow-banks dotted over them, and cut horizontally with floating strata of fogs reaching along the land as far as the eye can see. the sea is quite smooth; at least i think so, or have become a better seaman through habit. john and lincoln are playing airs on the violin and flute; the other young men are on deck. it is worth saying that during the two months we have been on the coast of labrador, moving from one harbor to another, or from one rocky isle to another, only three nights have we spent at sea. twenty-three drawings have been executed, or commenced and nearly completed. whether this voyage will prove a fruitful one remains to be proved; but i am content, and hope the creator will permit us to reach our country and find our friends well and happy. _august . harbor of st. george, st. george's bay, newfoundland._ we have been running, as the sailors say, till five this evening, when we anchored here. our way here was all in sight of land along the northwest shores of newfoundland, the highest land we have yet seen; in some places the scenery was highly picturesque and agreeable to the eye, though little more vegetation appeared than in labrador. last night was a boisterous one, and we were all uncomfortable. this morning we entered the mouth of st. george's bay, about thirteen leagues broad and fully eighteen deep. a more beautiful and ample basin cannot easily be found; not an obstruction is within it. the northeast shores are high and rocky, but the southern ones are sandy, low, and flat. it took us till five o'clock to ascend it and come to our present anchorage, in sight of a small village, the only one we have seen these two months, and on a harbor wherein more than fifty line-of-battle ships could safely ride, the bottom being of clay. the village is built on an elongated point of sand, or natural sea-wall, under which we now are, and is perfectly secure from every wind but the northeast. the country as we ascended the bay became more woody and less rough. the temperature changed quite suddenly, and this afternoon the weather was so mild that it was agreeable on deck, and congenial even to a southerner like myself. we find here several small vessels engaged in the fisheries, and an old hulk from hull, england, called "charles tennison"; she was lost near this on her way from quebec to hull some years ago. as we came up the bay, a small boat with two men approached and boarded us, assisting as pilots. they had a barrel of fine salmon, which i bought for ten dollars. as soon as our anchors touched bottom, our young men went on shore to try to purchase some fresh provisions, but returned with nothing but two bottles of milk, though the village is said to contain two hundred inhabitants. mackerel are caught all round us, and sharks of the man-eating kind are said to be abundant just now, and are extremely troublesome to the fishers' nets. some signs of cultivation are to be seen across the harbor, and many huts of mic-mac indians _adorn_ the shores. we learn the winter here is not nearly as severe as at quebec; the latitude of this place and the low, well-guarded situation of the little village, at once account for this; yet not far off i see patches of snow remaining from last winter. some tell us birds are abundant, others that there are none; but we shall soon ascertain which report is true. i have not slept a minute since we left labrador. the ice here did not break up so that the bay could be navigated till the th of may, and i feel confident no one could enter the harbors of labrador before the th of june, or possibly even later. _august ._ all ashore in search of birds, plants, shells, and all the usual _et ceteras_ attached to our vocations; but we all were driven on board soon, by a severe storm of wind and rain, showing that newfoundland has its share of bad weather. whilst on shore we found the country quite rich compared with labrador, all the vegetable productions being much larger, more abundant, and finer. we saw a flock of house swallows that had bred about the little village, now on their passage southwest, and all gay and singing. i forgot to say that two days since, when about forty miles out at sea, we saw a flock of the republican swallow. i saw here the blue yellow-eyed warbler, the fish-hawk, several species of sparrows, among them the lincoln's finch, the canada titmouse, black-headed ditto, white-winged crossbill, pine grosbeak, maryland yellow-throat, pigeon hawk, hairy woodpecker, bank swallow, tell-tale godwit, golden-eyed duck, red-breasted merganser, three loons,--of which two were young and almost able to fly; the spotted sandpiper, and a flock of tringas, the species of which could not be ascertained. we spoke to some of the native indians to try to engage them to show us the way to the interior, where we are told the small, or true ptarmigan abounds, but they were too lazy even to earn money. among the plants we found two varieties of rose, and the narrow-leaved kalmia. few supplies can be obtained, and a couple of small clearings are all the cultivated land we have seen since we left the magdalene islands. on returning to our vessel, i was rowed on the roughest sea i have ever before encountered in an open boat, but our captain was at the helm and we reached the deck safely but drenched to the skin. the wind has now abated, and i hope to draw plants all day. this evening a flock of terns, twenty or thirty with their young, travelled due south; they were very clamorous and beat against the gale most beautifully. several indians came on board and promised to go to-morrow after hares. _august ._ we have had a beautiful day; this morning some indians came alongside; they had half a reindeer or caribou, and a hare which i had never seen before. we took the forty-four pounds of fresh meat and gave in exchange twenty-one of pork and thirty-three of ship-biscuit, and paid a quarter of a dollar for the hare, which plainly shows that these indians know full well the value of the game which they procure. i spent a portion of the day in adding a plant to my drawing of the red-necked diver, after which we all went on shore to the indians' camp across the bay. we found them, as i expected, all lying down pell-mell in their wigwams. a strong mixture of blood was apparent in their skins, shape, and deportment; some indeed were nearly white, and sorry i am to say that the nearer to our own noble selves, the filthier and lazier they are; the women and children were particularly disgusting. some of the former, from whom i purchased some rough baskets, were frightfully so. other women had been out collecting the fruit called here "baked apple" [_rubus chamæmorus_]. when a little roasted it tastes exactly like baked apple. the children were engaged in catching lobsters and eels, of which there are numbers in all the bays here; at labrador, lobsters are rare. the young indians simply waded out up to their knees, turned the eel grass over, and secured their prey. after much parley, we engaged two hunters to go as guides into the interior to procure caribou and hares, for which they were to receive a dollar a day each. our men caught ninety-nine lobsters, all of good size; the shores truly abound in this valuable shell-fish. the indians roast them in a fire of brushwood, and devour them without salt or any other _et ceteras_. the caribous are now "in velvet," and their skins light gray, the flesh tender, but the animal poor. the average weight when in good condition, four hundred pounds. in the early part of march the caribou leave the hills and come to the sea-shore to feed on kelp and sea-grasses cut off by the ice and cast on the shore. groups of many hundreds may be seen thus feeding. the flesh here is held in low estimation; it tastes like poor venison. i saw to-day several pairs of cayenne terns on their way south; they flew high, and were very noisy. the great terns passed also in vast multitudes. when the weather is stormy, they skim close over the water; if fair, they rise very high and fly more at leisure. the tell-tale godwit is now extremely fat, extremely juicy, extremely tender, and extremely good. the _parus hudsonicus_ is very abundant; so is the pine grosbeak, but in a shocking state of moult. the _kalmia angustifolia_[ ] the natives say, is an antidote for cramp and rheumatism. i was on the point of bidding thee good-night, when we all were invited to a ball[ ] on shore. i am going with the rest out of curiosity. _august ._ the people seemed to enjoy themselves well at the ball, and john played the violin for them till half-past two. i returned on board before eleven, and slept soundly till the young men hailed for a boat. this morning has been spent drawing a kalmia to a bird. the young men went off with the indians this morning, but returned this evening driven back by flies and mosquitoes. lincoln is really in great pain. they brought a pair of willow grouse, old and young; the latter had no hairy feathers yet on the legs. they saw canada jays, crossbills, pine grosbeaks, robins, one golden-winged woodpecker, many canadian titmice, a martin swallow, a kingfisher (none in labrador), heard a squirrel which sounded like the red squirrel. the country was described as being "up and down the whole way." the moss almost as deep as in labrador, the morasses quite as much so; no tall wood, and no hard wood. the lads were all so fatigued that they are now sound asleep. _august ._ we would now be "ploughing the deep" had the wind been fair; but as it was not, here we still are _in statu quo_. i have drawn a curious species of alder to my white-winged crossbill, and finished it. i had a visit from an old frenchman who has resided on this famous island for fifty years; he assured me that no red indians were now to be found: the last he heard of were seen twenty-two years ago. these native indians give no quarter to anybody; usually, after killing their foes, they cut the heads off the latter, and leave the body to the wild beasts of the country. several flocks of golden plovers passed over the bay this forenoon; two _lestris pomarina_ came in this evening. ravens abound here, but no crows have been seen. the great tern is passing south by thousands, and a small flock of canada geese was seen. a young of the golden-crested wren was shot, full grown and fledged, but not a sign of yellow on the head. a _muscicapa_ (flycatcher) was killed which probably is new; to-morrow will tell. i bought seven newfoundland dogs for seventeen dollars; now i shall be able to fulfil my promises to friends. the american bittern breeds here, and leaves in about two weeks hence. _august ._ at daylight the wind was fair, and though cloudy, we broke our anchorage, and at five were under way. we coasted newfoundland till evening, when the wind blew a gale from the southwest, and a regular tempest set in. our vessel was brought to at dusk, and we danced and kicked over the waves all evening, and will do so all night. _august ._ the storm still continues, without any sign of abating; we are still at anchor, tossed hither and thither, and withal sea-sick. _august ._ to-day the storm ceased, but the wind is still so adverse that we could make no port of newfoundland; towards this island we steered, for none of us wished to return to labrador. we tried to enter the strait of canseau, but the wind failed us; while the vessel lay becalmed we decided to try to reach pictou in nova scotia and travel by land. we are now beating about towards that port and hope to reach it early to-morrow morning. the great desire we all have to see pictou, halifax, and the country between them and eastport, is our inducement. _august ._ after in vain attempting to reach pictou, we concluded, after dinner, that myself and party should be put ashore anywhere, and the "ripley" should sail back towards the straits of canseau, the wind and tide being favorable. we drank a glass of wine to our wives and our friends, and our excellent little captain took us to the shore, while the vessel stood still, with all sails up, awaiting his return. we happened to land on an island called ruy's island, where, fortunately for us, we found some men making hay. two of these we engaged to carry our trunks and two of the party to this place, pictou, for two dollars--truly cheap. our effects, or rather those we needed, were soon put up, we all shook hands most heartily with the captain--to whom we now feel really attached--said farewell to the crew, and parted, giving three hearty cheers. we were now, thanks to god, positively on the mainland of our native country, and after four days' confinement in our berths, and sick of sea-sickness, the sea and all its appurtenances, we felt so refreshed that the thought of walking nine miles seemed like nothing more than dancing a quadrille. the air felt deliciously warm, the country, compared with those we have so lately left, appeared perfectly beautiful, and the smell of the new-mown grass was the sweetest that ever existed. even the music of the crickets was delightful to mine ears, for no such insect does either labrador or newfoundland afford. the voice of a blue jay was melody to me, and the sight of a humming-bird quite filled my heart with delight. we were conveyed a short distance from the island to the main; ingalls and coolidge remained in the boat, and the rest of us took the road, along which we moved as lightly as if boys just out of school. the roads were good, or seemed to be so; the woods were all of tall timber, and the air that circulated freely was filled with perfume. almost every plant we saw brought to mind some portion of the united states; in a word, all of us felt quite happy. now and then, as we crossed a hill and looked back over the sea, we saw our beautiful vessel sailing freely before the wind, and as she gradually neared the horizon, she looked like a white speck, or an eagle high in air. we wished our captain a most safe voyage to quoddy. we arrived opposite pictou in two hours and a half, and lay down on the grass to await the arrival of the boat, enjoying the scenery around us. a number of american vessels were in the harbor, loading with coal; the village, placed at the upper end of a fine bay, looked well, though small. three churches rose above the rest of the buildings, all of which are of wood, and several vessels were on the stocks. the whole country appeared in a high state of cultivation, and looked well; the population is about two thousand. our boat came, we crossed the bay, and put up at the "royal oak," the best house, and have had what seemed to be, after our recent fare, a most excellent supper. the very treading on a carpeted floor was quite wonderful. this evening we called on professor mccullough, who received us very kindly, gave us a glass of wine, showed his fine collection of well-preserved birds and other things, and invited us to breakfast to-morrow at eight, when we are again to inspect his curiosities. the professor's mansion is a quarter of a mile out of town, and looks much like a small english villa. _august ._ we had an excellent scotch breakfast at professor mccullough's. his whole family were present, four sons and a daughter, besides his wife and her sister. i became more pleased with the professor the more he talked. i showed a few labrador drawings, after which we went in a body to the university, once more to examine his fine collection. i found there half a dozen specimens of birds which i longed for and said so; the professor had the cases opened, the specimens taken out, and he offered them to me with so much apparent good will that i took them. he then asked me to look around and not to leave any object which might be of assistance in my publication; but so generous had he already proved himself that i remained mute; i saw several i would have liked to have, but i could not mention them. he offered me all his fresh-water shells, and any minerals i might choose. i took a few specimens of iron and copper. i am much surprised that this valuable collection is not purchased by the government of the province; he offered it for £ . i think it well worth £ , . thou wilt say i am an enthusiast; to this i will reply--true, but there are many more in the world, particularly in europe. on our return to the "royal oak" we were called on by mr. blanchard, the deputy consul for the united states, an agreeable man, who offered to do whatever he could for us; but the coach was almost ready, our birds were packed, our bill paid, and the coach rolled off. i walked on ahead with mr. blanchard for about a mile; he spoke much of england, and knew john adamson of newcastle and other friends there. the coach came up, and we said farewell. the wind had commenced to blow, and soon rain fell heavily; we went on smoothly, the road being as good as any in england, and broader. we passed through a fine tract of country, well wooded, well cultivated, and a wonderful relief to our eyes after the barren and desolate regions of rocks, snow, tempests, and storms. we stopped to dine at four in the afternoon at a wayside house. the rain poured down; two ladies and a gentleman--the husband of one of them--had arrived before us in an open cart, or "jersey," and i, with all the gallantry of my nature, at once offered to change vehicles with them. they accepted the exchange at once, but did not even thank us in return. shattuck, ingalls, and i jumped into the open cart when dinner was ended. i was seated by a very so-so irish dame named katy; her husband was our driver. our exchange proved a most excellent one: the weather cleared up; we saw the country much better than we could have done in the coach. to our surprise we were suddenly passed by professor mccullough, who said he would see us at truro. towards sunset we arrived in view of this pretty, scattered village, in sight of the head waters of the bay of fundy. what a delightful sensation at that moment ran through my frame, as i realized that i was within a few days of home! we reached the tavern, or hotel, or whatever else the house of stoppage might be called, but as only three of us could be accommodated there we went across the street to another. professor mccullough came in and introduced us to several members of the assembly of this province, and i was handed several pinches of snuff by the professor, who _loves it_. we tried in vain to obtain a conveyance for ourselves to-morrow morning instead of going by coach to-night; it could not be done. professor mccullough then took me to the house of samuel george archibald, esq., speaker of the assembly, who introduced me to his wife and handsome young daughter. i showed them a few drawings, and received a letter from mr. archibald to the chief justice of halifax, and now we are waiting for the mail coach to proceed to that place. the village of truro demands a few words. it is situated in the middle of a most beautiful valley, of great extent and well cultivated; several brooks water this valley, and empty into the bay of fundy, the broad expanse of which we see to the westward. the buildings, though principally of wood, are good-looking, and as cleanly as those in our pretty eastern villages, white, with green shutters. the style of the people, be it loyal or otherwise, is extremely genteel, and i was more than pleased with all those whom i saw. the coach is at the door, the cover of my trunk is gaping to receive this poor book, and therefore once more, good-night. _august ._ wind due east, hauling to the northeast, good for the "ripley." we are now at halifax in nova scotia, but let me tell thee how and in what manner we reached it. it was eleven last night when we seated ourselves in the coach; the night was beautiful, and the moon shone brightly. we could only partially observe the country until the morning broke; but the road we can swear was hilly, and our horses lazy, or more probably very poor. after riding twenty miles, we stopped a good hour to change horses and warm ourselves. john went to sleep, but the rest of us had some supper, served by a very handsome country girl. at the call, "coach ready!" we jumped in, and had advanced perhaps a mile and a half when the linch-pin broke, and there we were at a stand-still. ingalls took charge of the horses, and responded with great energy to the calls of the owls that came from the depths of the woods, where they were engaged either at praying to diana or at calling to their parents, friends, and distant relations. john, lincoln, and shattuck, always ready for a nap, made this night no exception; coolidge and i, not trusting altogether to ingalls' wakefulness, kept awake and prayed to be shortly delivered from this most disagreeable of travelling experiences, detention--at all times to be avoided if possible, and certainly to be dreaded on a chilly night in this latitude. looking up the road, the vacillating glimmer of the flame intended to assist the coachman in the recovery of the lost linch-pin was all that could be distinguished, for by this the time was what is called "wolfy." the man returned, put out the pine-knot--the linch-pin could not be found--and another quarter of an hour was spent in repairing with all sorts of odds and ends. how much longer ingalls could, or would, have held the horses, we never asked him, as from different exclamations we heard him utter we thought it well to be silent on that subject. the day dawned fair and beautiful. i ran a mile or so ahead of the coach to warm my feet, and afterwards sat by the driver to obtain, if possible, some information about the country, which became poorer and poorer as our journey proceeded. we were all very hungry, and were told the "_stand_" stood twenty-five miles from the lost linch-pin. i asked our driver to stop wherever he thought we could procure a dozen or so of hard-boiled eggs and some coffee, or indeed anything eatable; so he drew up at a house where the owner looked us over, and said it would be quite impossible to provide a breakfast for six persons of our appearance. we passed on and soon came on the track of a tolerably large bear, _in the road_, and at last reached the breakfast ground at a house on the margin of green lake, a place where fish and game, in the season, abound. this lake forms part of the channel which was intended to be cut for connecting by canal the atlantic, the baie of fundy, and the gulf of st. lawrence, at bay verte. ninety thousand pounds have been expended, but the canal is not finished, and probably never will be; for we are told the government will not assist the company by which it was undertaken, and private spirit is slumbering. we had an excellent breakfast at this house, seventeen miles from halifax; this place would be a most delightful summer residence. the road was now level, but narrow; the flag of the halifax garrison was seen when two miles distant. suddenly we turned short, and stopped at a gate fronting a wharf, where was a small ferry-boat. here we were detained nearly an hour; how would this work in the states? why did mrs. trollope not visit halifax? the number of beggarly-looking negroes and negresses would have afforded her ample scope for contemplation and description. we crossed the harbor, in which rode a sixty-four-gun flag-ship, and arrived at the house of one mr. paul. this was the best hotel in halifax, yet with great difficulty we obtained _one_ room with four beds, but no private parlor--which we thought necessary. with a population of eighteen thousand souls, and just now two thousand soldiers added to these, halifax has not one good hotel, for here the attendance is miserable, and the table far from good. we have walked about to see the town, and all have aching feet and leg-bones in consequence of walking on hard ground after tramping only on the softest, deepest mosses for two months. _august ._ i rose at four and wrote to thee and dr. parkman;[ ] shattuck wrote to his father, and he and i took these letters to an english schooner bound to boston. i was surprised to find every wharf gated, the gates locked and barred, and sentinels at every point. i searched everywhere for a barber; they do not here shave on sunday; finally, by dint of begging, and assuring the man that i was utterly unacquainted with the laws of halifax, being a stranger, my long beard was cut at last. four of us went to church where the bishop read and preached; the soldiers are divided up among the different churches and attend in full uniform. this afternoon we saw a military burial; this was a grand sight. the soldiers walked far apart, with arms reversed; an excellent band executed the most solemn marches and a fine anthem. i gave my letters from boston to mr. tremaine, an amiable gentleman. _august ._ this day has been spent in writing letters to thyself, nicholas berthoud, john bachman, and edward harris; to the last i have written a long letter describing all our voyage. i took the letters to the "cordelia" packet, which sails on wednesday, and may reach boston before we do. i delivered my letters to bishop inglis and the chief-justice, but were assured both were out. john and ingalls spent their evening very agreeably with commissary hewitson. _august ._ breakfast eaten and bill paid, we entered the coach at nine o'clock, which would only contain five, so though it rained one of us sat with the driver. the road between halifax and windsor, where we now are, is macadamized and good, over hills and through valleys, and though the distance is forty-five miles, we had only one pair of horses, which nevertheless travelled about six and a half miles an hour. nine miles of our road lay along the bay of halifax, and was very pleasant. here and there a country home came in sight. our driver told us that a french squadron was pursued by an english fleet to the head of this bay, and the seven french vessels were compelled to strike their colors; but the french commodore or admiral sunk all his vessels, preferring this to surrendering them to the british. so deep was the water that the very tops of the masts sank far out of sight, and once only since that time, twenty years ago, have they been seen; this was on an unusually calm, clear day seven years past. we saw _en passant_ the abandoned lodge of prince edward, who spent a million pounds on the building, grounds, etc. the whole now is in the greatest state of ruin; thirty years have gone by since it was in its splendor. on leaving the bay, we followed the salmon river, a small rivulet of swift water, which abounds in salmon, trout, and other fish. the whole country is miserably poor, yet much cultivation is seen all the way. much game and good fishing was to be had round the inn where we dined; the landlord said his terms were five dollars a week, and it would be a pleasant summer residence. we passed the seat of mr. jeffries, president of the assembly, now acting governor. the house is large and the grounds in fine order. it is between two handsome fresh-water lakes; indeed, the country is covered with lakes, all of which are well supplied with trout. we saw the college and the common school, built of freestone, both handsome buildings. we crossed the head of the st. croix river, which rolls its impetuous waters into the bay of fundy. from here to windsor the country improved rapidly and the crops looked well. windsor is a neat, pretty village; the vast banks of plaster of paris all about it give employment to the inhabitants and bring wealth to the place; it is shipped from here in large quantities. our coach stopped at the best _boarding-house_ here, for nowhere in the provinces have we heard of hotels; the house was full and we were conveyed to another, where, after more than two hours' delay, we had a very indifferent supper. meantime we walked to see the windsor river, on the east bank of which the village is situated. the view was indeed novel; the bed of the river, nearly a mile wide and quite bare as far as eye could reach,--about ten miles. scarcely any water to be seen, and yet the spot where we stood, sixty-five feet above the river bed, showed that at high tide this wonderful basin must be filled to the brim. opposite to us, indeed, the country is diked in, and vessels left dry at the wharves had a strange appearance. we are told that there have been instances when vessels have slid sidewise from the top of the bank to the level of the gravelly bed of the river. the shores are covered for a hundred yards with mud of a reddish color. this conveys more the idea of a flood or great freshet than the result of tide, and i long to see the waters of the ocean advancing at the rate of four knots an hour to fill this extraordinary basin; this sight i hope to enjoy to-morrow. _august ._ i can now say that i have seen the tide waters of the bay of fundy rise sixty-five feet.[ ] we were seated on one of the wharves and saw the mass of water accumulating with a rapidity i cannot describe. at half-flow the water rose three feet in ten minutes, but it is even more rapid than this. a few minutes after its greatest height is attained it begins to recede, and in a few hours the whole bed of the river is again emptied. we rambled over the beautiful meadows and fields, and john shot two marsh hawks, one of each sex, and we saw many more. these birds here are much darker above and much deeper rufous below, than any i ever procured in the middle states or farther south. indeed, it may be said that the farther north i have been, the deeper in tint have i found the birds. the steamboat has just arrived, and the young men have been on board to secure our passage. no news from the states. _eastport, maine, august ._ we arrived here yesterday afternoon in the steamer "maid of the mist." we left windsor shortly before twelve noon, and reached st. john's, new brunswick, at two o'clock at night. passed "cape blow-me-down," "cape split," and "cape d'or." we were very comfortable, as there were few passengers, but the price was sufficient for all we had, and more. we perambulated the streets of st. john's by moonlight, and when the shops opened i purchased two suits of excellent stuff for shooting garments. at the wharf, just as the steamer was about to leave, i had the great pleasure of meeting my most excellent friend edward harris, who gave me a letter from thee, and the first intelligence from the big world we have left for two months. here we were kindly received by all our acquaintance; our trunks were not opened, and the new clothes paid no duties; this ought to be the case with poor students of nature all over the world. we gave up the "ripley" to messrs. buck and tinkham, took up our quarters with good mr. weston, and all began packing immediately. we reached new york on saturday morning, the th of september, and, thank god, found all well. whilst at boston i wrote several letters, one very long one to thomas nuttall, in which i gave him some account of the habits of water-birds with which he was unacquainted; he sent me an extremely kind letter in answer. footnotes: [ ] these terms were not, however, held to by the owners of the vessel, and the provisioning was left also to them, the whole outlay being about $ for the entire trip. [ ] now commonly spelled canso--not canseau. [ ] _plectrophenax nivalis_, the snow bunting.--e. c. [ ] _canachites canadensis_, the canada grouse.--e. c. [ ] foolish guillemot. [ ] black guillemot. [ ] great blue heron. [ ] razor-billed auk. [ ] spotted sandpiper, now _actitis macularia_.--e. c. [ ] dusky duck. [ ] scoter duck. [ ] the least or wilson's sandpiper, _tringa (actodromas) minutilla_.--e. c. [ ] a mistake, which audubon later corrected. the herring gull is of course quite distinct from the black-backed. the former is of the variety called by me _larus argentatus smithsonianus_, as it differs in some respects from the common herring gull of europe.--e. c. [ ] perhaps forster's tern, _sterna forsteri_.--e. c. [ ] charles lucien bonaparte. [ ] no doubt the common species, _phalacrocorax carbo_, as audubon afterward identified it. see beyond, date of june .--e. c. [ ] that is, the species which audubon named the florida cormorant, _phalacrocorax floridanus_, now known to be a small southern form of the double-crested cormorant, _p. dilophus_.--e. c. [ ] this is the so-called bridled guillemot, _uria ringvia_. the white mark is not characteristic of sex, age, or season. the bird is not specifically distinct from _uria troile_.--e. c. [ ] _merula migratoria_, the american robin. [ ] kinglet, _regulus calendula_.--e. c. [ ] an interesting note of this new species figured in b. of am., folio pl. , and described in orn. biogr. ii., , p. . it is now known as _melospiza lincolni_.--e. c. [ ] the common puffin, now called _fratercula arctica_.--e. c. [ ] this is the usual sailors' name of the razor-billed auk in labrador and newfoundland, and was the only one heard by me in labrador in (see proc. acad. nat. sci., , p. ).--e. c. [ ] now _otocorys alpestris_.--e. c. [ ] now _anthus pennsylvanicus_.--e. c. [ ] common cormorant. see note on page . [ ] _loxia leucoptera._ [ ] _le petit caporal, falco temerarius_, aud. ornith. biog. i., , p. , pl. . _falco columbarius_, aud. ornith. biog. i., , p. , pl. ; v., , p. . synopsis, , p. . b. amer. vo, ed. ., , p. , pl. . _falco auduboni_, blackwall, zoöl. researches, .--e. c. in vol. v., p. , audubon says: "the bird represented in the last mentioned plate, and described under the name of _falco temerarius_, was merely a beautiful adult of the pigeon hawk, _f. columbarius_. the great inferiority in size of the individual represented as _f. temararius_ was the cause of my mistaking it for a distinct species, and i have pleasure in stating that the prince of musignano [charles bonaparte] was the first person who pointed out my error to me soon after the publication of my first volume." bonaparte alludes to this in his edition of wilson, vol. iii. p. . [ ] american ring plover, now known as _Ægialitis semipalmata_.--e. c. [ ] great northern diver or loon, now called _urinator_, or _gavia_, _imber_. the other diver above mentioned as the "scapegrace" is _u., or g., lumme_. [ ] red-throated diver, now _urinator_, or _gavia_, _lumme_.--e. c. [ ] the white-crowned and white-throated sparrows are now placed in the genus _zonotrichia_.--e. c. [ ] jager. [ ] petrels, most probably _cymochorea leucorrhoa_.--e. c. [ ] now _l. delawarensis_, also called ring-billed gull.--e. c. [ ] double-crested cormorant. [ ] the catchfly. [ ] pigeon hawk. [ ] white-crowned sparrow. [ ] brown titlark. [ ] black-poll warbler. [ ] savannah finch. [ ] double-crested cormorant. [ ] hudson's bay titmouse. [ ] the ruffed grouse, _bonasa umbellus_.--e. c. [ ] common gull. this record raises an interesting question, which can hardly be settled satisfactorily. _larus canus_, the common gull of europe, is given by various authors in audubon's time, besides himself, as a bird of the atlantic coast of north america, from labrador southward. but it is not known as such to ornithologists of the present day. the american ornithologists' union catalogues _l. canus_ as merely a straggler in north america, with the query, "accidental in labrador?" in his notes on the ornithology of labrador, in proc. acad. nat. sci., phila. , p. , dr. coues gives _l. delawarensis_, the ring-billed gull, three specimens of which he procured at henley harbor, aug. , . these were birds of the year, and one of them, afterward sent to england, was identified by mr. howard saunders as _l. canus_ (p.z.s. , p. ; cat. b. brit. mus., xxv. , p. ). this would seem to bear out audubon's journal; but the "common american gull" of his published works is the one he calls _l. zonorhynchus_ (_i. e._, _l. delawarensis_), and on p. of the birds of am., vo ed., he gives the very incident here narrated in his journal, as pertaining to the latter species. the probabilities are that, notwithstanding dr. coues' finding of the supposed _l. canus_ in labrador, the whole audubonian record really belongs to _l. delawarensis_.--e. c. [ ] this appears to be an error, reflected in all of audubon's published works. the cayenne tern of audubon, as described and figured by him, is _sterna regia_, which has never been known to occur in labrador. audubon never knew the caspian tern, _s. tschegrava_, and it is believed that this is the species which he saw in labrador, and mistook for the cayenne tern--as he might easily do. see coues, birds of the northwest, , p. , where the case is noted.--e. c. [ ] or willow ptarmigan, _lagopus albus_--the same that audubon has already spoken of procuring and drawing; but this is the first mention he makes which enables us to judge which of two species occurring in labrador he had. the other is the rock grouse, or ptarmigan, _l. rupestris_.--e. c. [ ] this is the bird which audubon afterward identified with _tyrannula richardsonii_ of swainson, fn., bor.-am., ii., , p. , pl. , lower fig., and published under the name of the short-legged pewee or pewit fly-catcher, _muscicapa phoebe_, in orn. biogr., v. p. , pl. ; b. am., vo ed., i. p. , pl. . the species is now well known as the western wood pewee, _contopus richardsoni_; but it has never since audubon's time been authenticated as a bird of labrador. audubon was of course perfectly familiar with the common wood pewee, _contopus virens_, and with the pewit flycatcher, _sayornis phoebe_. we can hardly imagine him mistaken regarding the identity of either of these familiar birds; yet there is something about this labrador record of supposed _c. richardsonii_ which has never been satisfactorily explained.--e. c. [ ] _harelda hiemalis_, the old squaw or long-tailed duck.--e. c. [ ] _histrionicus histrionicus_, the harlequin duck.--e. c. [ ] the washington eagle, or "bird of washington," of audubon's works, is based upon the young bald eagle, _haliaëtus leucocephaluis_. the bird here noted may have been either this species, or the _aquila chrysaëtus_.--e. c. [ ] see episode "a labrador squatter." [ ] or labrador duck, _camptolæmus labradorius_. this is a notable record, considering that the species became extinct about .--e. c. [ ] this is the white-winged coot or scoter just mentioned above, _[oe]demia deglandi_.--e. c. [ ] brown or northern phalarope. [ ] the curlew which occurs in almost incredible numbers in labrador is the eskimo, _numenius borealis_; the one with the bill about four inches long, also found in that country, but less commonly, is the hudsonian, _n. hudsonicus_. see coues, proc. acad. nat. sci., philada., , p. .--e. c. [ ] pomarine jager, or gull-hunter, now called _stercorarius pomarinus_.--e. c. [ ] a small village on the coast of labrador, latitude °; _not_ the bras d'or of cape breton island. [ ] _empetrum nigrum._ [ ] the purple or rock sandpiper, _tringa (arquatella) maritima_.--e. c. [ ] not _ereunetes pusillus_, but the least sandpiper, _tringa (actodromas) minutilla_, which appears as _tringa pusilla_ in audubon's works.--e. c. [ ] this is the bird figured by audubon as _falco labradora_ on folio pl. , vo pl. , but which he afterward considered to be the same as his _f. islandicus_. it is now held, however, to represent a dark variety of gyrfalcon, known as _f. gyrfalco obsoletus_, confined to labrador and thence southward in winter to new england and new york.--e. c. [ ] sheep laurel. [ ] see episode, "a ball in newfoundland." [ ] dr. george parkman, of boston, who was murdered by professor j. w. webster in boston, november , . [ ] see episode, "the bay of fundy." the missouri river journals introduction this journey, which occupied within a few days of eight months,--from march , , to november of the same year,--was undertaken in the interest of the "quadrupeds of north america," in which the three audubons and dr. bachman were then deeply engaged. the journey has been only briefly touched upon in former publications, and the entire record from august until the return home was lost in the back of an old secretary from the time of audubon's return in november, , until august, , when two of his granddaughters found it. mrs. audubon states in her narrative that no record of this part of the trip was known to exist, and none of the family now living had ever seen it until the date mentioned. not only is the diary most valuable from the point of view of the naturalist, but also from that of the historian interested in the frontier life of those days. m. r. a. as the only account of the journey from new york to st. louis which can now be found is contained in a letter to my uncle mr. james hall, dated st. louis, march , , the following extract is given:-- "the weather has been bad ever since we left baltimore. there we encountered a snow-storm that accompanied us all the way to this very spot, and at this moment the country is whitened with this precious, semi-congealed, heavenly dew. as to ice!--i wish it were all in your icehouse when summer does come, should summer show her bright features in the year of our lord . we first encountered ice at wheeling, and it has floated down the ohio all around us, as well as up the mississippi to pleasant st. louis. and such a steamer as we have come in from louisville here!--the very filthiest of all filthy old rat-traps i ever travelled in; and the fare worse, certainly much worse, and so scanty withal that our worthy commander could not have given us another meal had we been detained a night longer. i wrote a famous long letter to my lucy on the subject, and as i know you will hear it, will not repeat the account of our situation on board the 'gallant'--a pretty name, too, but alas! her name, like mine, is only a shadow, for as she struck a sawyer[ ] one night we all ran like mad to make ready to leap overboard; but as god would have it, our lives and the 'gallant,' were spared--she from sinking, and we from swimming amid rolling and crashing hard ice. the ladies screamed, the babies squalled, the dogs yelled, the steam roared, the captain (who, by the way, is a very gallant man) swore--not like an angel, but like the very devil--and all was confusion and uproar, just as if miller's prophecy had actually been nigh. luckily, we had had our _supper_, as the thing was called on board the 'gallant,' and every man appeared to feel resolute, if not resolved to die. "i would have given much at that moment for a picture of the whole. our _compagnons de voyage_, about one hundred and fifty, were composed of buckeyes, wolverines, suckers, hoosiers, and gamblers, with drunkards of each and every denomination, their ladies and babies of the same nature, and specifically the dirtiest of the dirty. we had to dip the water for washing from the river in tin basins, soap ourselves all from the same cake, and wipe the one hundred and fifty with the same solitary one towel rolling over a pin, until it would have been difficult to say, even with your keen eyes, whether it was manufactured of hemp, tow, flax, or cotton. my bed had two sheets, of course, measuring seven-eighths of a yard wide; my pillow was filled with corn-shucks. harris fared even worse than i, and our 'state-room' was evidently better fitted for the smoking of hams than the smoking of christians. when it rained outside, it rained also within, and on one particular morning, when the snow melted on the upper deck, or roof, it was a lively scene to see each person seeking for a spot free from the many spouts overhead. "we are at the glasgow hotel, and will leave it the day after to-morrow, as it is too good for our purses. we intended to have gone twenty miles in illinois to edwardsville, but have changed our plans, and will go northwest sixteen miles to florissant, where we are assured game is plenty, and the living quite cheap. we do not expect to leave this till the th or d of april, and should you feel inclined to write to me, do so by return of mail, if possible, and i may get your letter before i leave this for the yellowstone. "the markets here abound with all the good things of the land, and of nature's creation. to give you an idea of this, read the following items: grouse, two for a york shilling; three chickens for the same; turkeys, wild or tame, cents; flour $ . a barrel; butter, sixpence for the best--fresh, and really good. beef, to cents; veal, the same; pork, cents; venison hams, large and dried, cents each; potatoes, cents a bushel; ducks, three for a shilling; wild geese, cents each; canvas-back ducks, a shilling a pair; vegetables for the asking, as it were; and only think, in the midst of this abundance and cheapness, we are paying at the rate of $ . per week at our hotel, the glasgow, and at the planters we were asked $ . . "i have been extremely kindly received and treated by mr. chouteau and partners. mr. sire, the gentleman who will command the steamer we go in, is one of the finest-looking men i have seen for many a day, and the accounts i hear of him correspond with his noble face and general appearance." footnote: [ ] a fallen tree that rests on the root end at the bottom of a stream or river, and sways up or down with the current. the missouri river journals i left home at ten o'clock of the morning, on saturday the th of march, , accompanied by my son victor. i left all well, and i trust in god for the privilege and happiness of rejoining them all some time next autumn, when i hope to return from the yellowstone river, an expedition undertaken solely for the sake of our work on the quadrupeds of north america. the day was cold, but the sun was shining, and after having visited a few friends in the city of new york, we departed for philadelphia in the cars, and reached that place at eleven of the night. as i was about landing, i was touched on the shoulder by a tall, robust-looking man, whom i knew not to be a sheriff, but in fact my good friend jediah irish,[ ] of the great pine swamp. i also met my friend edward harris, who, with old john g. bell,[ ] isaac sprague, and young lewis squires, are to be my companions for this campaign. we all put up at mr. sanderson's. sunday was spent in visits to mr. bowen,[ ] dr. morton,[ ] and others, and we had many calls made upon us at the hotel. on monday morning we took the cars for baltimore, and victor returned home to minniesland. the weather was rainy, blustery, cold, but we reached baltimore in time to eat our dinner there, and we there spent the afternoon and the night. i saw gideon b. smith and a few other friends, and on the next morning we entered the cars for cumberland, which we reached the same evening about six. here we had all our effects weighed, and were charged thirty dollars additional weight--a first-rate piece of robbery. we went on now by coaches, entering the gap, and ascending the alleghanies amid a storm of snow, which kept us company for about forty hours, when we reached wheeling, which we left on the th of march, and went on board the steamer, that brought us to cincinnati all safe. we saw much game on our way, such as geese, ducks, etc., but no turkeys as in times of yore. we left for louisville in the u.s. mail steamer, and arrived there before daylight on the th inst. my companions went to the scott house, and i to william g. bakewell's, whose home i reached before the family were up. i remained there four days, and was, of course, most kindly treated; and, indeed, during my whole stay in this city of my youth i did enjoy myself famously well, with dancing, dinner-parties, etc. we left for st. louis on board the ever-to-be-remembered steamer "gallant," and after having been struck by a log which did not send us to the bottom, arrived on the th of march. on the th of april, harris went off to edwardsville, with the rest of my companions, and i went to nicholas berthoud, who began housekeeping here that day, though eliza was not yet arrived from pittsburgh. my time at st. louis would have been agreeable to any one fond of company, dinners, and parties; but of these matters i am not, though i did dine at three different houses, _bon gré_, _mal gré_. in fact, my time was spent procuring, arranging, and superintending the necessary objects for the comfort and utility of the party attached to my undertaking. the chouteaux supplied us with most things, and, let it be said to their honor, at little or no profit. captain sire took me in a light wagon to see old mr. chouteau one afternoon, and i found the worthy old gentleman so kind and so full of information about the countries of the indians that i returned to him a few days afterwards, not only for the sake of the pleasure i enjoyed in his conversation, but also with the view to procure, both dead and alive, a species of pouched rat (_pseudostoma bursarius_)[ ] wonderfully abundant in this section of country. one day our friend harris came back, and brought with him the prepared skins of birds and quadrupeds they had collected, and informed me that they had removed their quarters to b----'s. he left the next day, after we had made an arrangement for the party to return the friday following, which they did. i drew four figures of pouched rats, and outlined two figures of _sciurus capistratus_,[ ] which is here called "fox squirrel." [illustration: audubon. from the portrait by john woodhouse audubon (about ).] the th of april at last made its appearance, the rivers were now opened, the weather was growing warm, and every object in nature proved to us that at last the singularly lingering winter of and was over. having conveyed the whole of our effects on board the steamer, and being supplied with excellent letters, we left st. louis at . a. m., with mr. sarpy on board, and a hundred and one trappers of all descriptions and nearly a dozen different nationalities, though the greater number were french canadians, or creoles of this state. some were drunk, and many in that stupid mood which follows a state of nervousness produced by drinking and over-excitement. here is the scene that took place on board the "omega" at our departure, and what followed when the roll was called. first the general embarkation, when the men came in pushing and squeezing each other, so as to make the boards they walked upon fairly tremble. the indians, poor souls, were more quiet, and had already seated or squatted themselves on the highest parts of the steamer, and were tranquil lookers-on. after about three quarters of an hour, the crew and all the trappers (these are called _engagés_)[ ] were on board, and we at once pushed off and up the stream, thick and muddy as it was. the whole of the effects and the baggage of the _engagés_ was arranged in the main cabin, and presently was seen mr. sarpy, book in hand, with the list before him, wherefrom he gave the names of these _attachés_. the men whose names were called nearly filled the fore part of the cabin, where stood mr. sarpy, our captain, and one of the clerks. all awaited orders from mr. sarpy. as each man was called, and answered to his name, a blanket containing the apparel for the trip was handed to him, and he was ordered at once to retire and make room for the next. the outfit, by the way, was somewhat scanty, and of indifferent quality. four men were missing, and some appeared rather reluctant; however, the roll was ended, and one hundred and one were found. in many instances their bundles were thrown to them, and they were ordered off as if slaves. i forgot to say that as the boat pushed off from the shore, where stood a crowd of loafers, the men on board had congregated upon the hurricane deck with their rifles and guns of various sorts, all loaded, and began to fire what i should call a very disorganized sort of a salute, which lasted for something like an hour, and which has been renewed at intervals, though in a more desultory manner, at every village we have passed. however, we now find them passably good, quiet, and regularly sobered men. we have of course a motley set, even to italians. we passed the mouth of the missouri, and moved very slowly against the current, for it was not less than twenty minutes after four the next morning, when we reached st. charles,[ ] distant forty-two miles. here we stopped till half-past five, when mr. sarpy, to whom i gave my letters home, left us in a wagon. _april ._ a rainy day, and the heat we had experienced yesterday was now all gone. we saw a wild goose running on the shore, and it was killed by bell; but our captain did not stop to pick it up, and i was sorry to see the poor bird dead, uselessly. we now had found out that our berths were too thickly inhabited for us to sleep in; so i rolled myself in my blanket, lay down on deck, and slept very sound. _ th._ a fine clear day, cool this morning. cleaned our boilers last night, landing where the "emily christian" is sunk, for a few moments; saw a few gray squirrels, and an abundance of our common partridges in flocks of fifteen to twenty, very gentle indeed. about four this afternoon we passed the mouth of the gasconade river, a stream coming from the westward, valuable for its yellow-pine lumber. at a woodyard above us we saw a white pelican[ ] that had been captured there, and which, had it been clean, i should have bought. i saw that its legs and feet were red, and not yellow, as they are during autumn and winter. marmots are quite abundant, and here they perforate their holes in the loose, sandy soil of the river banks, as well as the same soil wherever it is somewhat elevated. we do not know yet if it is _arctomys monax_, or a new species.[ ] the weather being fine, and the night clear, we ran all night and on the morning of the th, thermometer ° to ° at sunrise, we were in sight of the seat of government, jefferson. the state house stands prominent, with a view from it up and down the stream of about ten miles; but, with the exception of the state house and the penitentiary, jefferson is a poor place, the land round being sterile and broken. this is _said_ to be or miles above st. louis.[ ] we saw many gray squirrels this morning. yesterday we passed under long lines of elevated shore, surmounted by stupendous rocks of limestone, with many curious holes in them, where we saw vultures and eagles[ ] enter towards dusk. harris saw a peregrine falcon; the whole of these rocky shores are ornamented with a species of white cedar quite satisfactorily known to us. we took wood at several places; at one i was told that wild turkeys were abundant and squirrels also, but as the squatter observed, "game is very scarce, especially bears." wolves begin to be troublesome to the settlers who have sheep; they are obliged to drive the latter home, and herd them each night. this evening the weather became cloudy and looked like rain; the weather has been very warm, the thermometer being at ° at three this afternoon. we saw a pair of peregrine falcons, one of them with a bird in its talons; also a few white-fronted geese, some blue-winged teal, and some cormorants,[ ] but none with the head, neck, and breast pure white, as the one i saw two days ago. the strength of the current seemed to increase; in some places our boat merely kept her own, and in one instance fell back nearly half a mile to where we had taken in wood. at about ten this evening we came into such strong water that nothing could be done against it; we laid up for the night at the lower end of a willow island, and then cleaned the boilers and took in fence-rails, which the french canadians call "perches." now a _perche_ in french means a pole; therefore this must be _patois_. _ th._ we were off at five this rainy morning, and at a. m. reached booneville,[ ] distant from st. louis about miles. we bought at this place an axe, a saw, three files, and some wafers; also some chickens, at one dollar a dozen. we found here some of the santa fé traders with whom we had crossed the alleghanies. they were awaiting the arrival of their goods, and then would immediately start. i saw a rabbit sitting under the shelf of a rock, and also a gray squirrel. it appears to me that _sciurus macrourus_[ ] of say relishes the bottom lands in preference to the hilly or rocky portions which alternately present themselves along these shores. on looking along the banks of the river, one cannot help observing the half-drowned young willows, and cotton trees of the same age, trembling and shaking sideways against the current; and methought, as i gazed upon them, of the danger they were in of being immersed over their very tops and thus dying, not through the influence of fire, the natural enemy of wood, but from the force of the mighty stream on the margin of which they grew, and which appeared as if in its wrath it was determined to overwhelm, and undo all that the creator in his bountifulness had granted us to enjoy. the banks themselves, along with perhaps millions of trees, are ever tumbling, falling, and washing away from the spots where they may have stood and grown for centuries past. if this be not an awful exemplification of the real course of natures intention, that all should and must live and die, then, indeed, the philosophy of our learned men cannot be much relied upon! this afternoon the steamer "john auld" came up near us, but stopped to put off passengers. she had troops on board and a good number of travellers. we passed the _city_ of glasgow[ ] without stopping there, and the blackguards on shore were so greatly disappointed that they actually fired at us with rifles; but whether with balls or not, they did us no harm, for the current proved so strong that we had to make over to the opposite side of the river. we did not run far; the weather was still bad, raining hard, and at ten o'clock, with wood nearly exhausted, we stopped on the west shore, and there remained all the night, cleaning boilers, etc. _sunday th._ this morning was cold, and it blew a gale from the north. we started, however, for a wooding-place, but the "john auld" had the advantage of us, and took what there was; the wind increased so much that the waves were actually running pretty high down-stream, and we stopped until one o'clock. you may depend my party was not sorry for this; and as i had had no exercise since we left st. louis, as soon as breakfast was over we started--bell, harris, squires, and myself, with our guns--and had quite a frolic of it, for we killed a good deal of game, and lost some. unfortunately we landed at a place where the water had overflowed the country between the shores and the hills, which are distant about one mile and a half. we started a couple of deer, which bell and i shot at, and a female turkey flying fast; at my shot it extended its legs downwards as if badly wounded, but it sailed on, and must have fallen across the muddy waters. bell, harris, and myself shot running exactly twenty-eight rabbits, _lepus sylvaticus_, and two bachmans, two _sciurus macrourus_ of say, two _arctomys monax_, and a pair of _tetrao_ [_bonasa_] _umbellus_. the woods were alive with the rabbits, but they were very wild; the ground-hogs, marmots, or _arctomys_, were in great numbers, judging from the innumerable burrows we saw, and had the weather been calm, i have no doubt we would have seen many more. bell wounded a turkey hen so badly that the poor thing could not fly; but harris frightened it, and it was off, and was lost. harris shot an _arctomys_ without pouches, that had been forced out of its burrow by the water entering it; it stood motionless until he was within ten paces of it; when, ascertaining what it was, he retired a few yards, and shot it with no. shot, and it fell dead on the spot. we found the woods filled with birds--all known, however, to us: golden-crowned thrush, cerulean warblers, woodpeckers of various kinds, etc.; but not a duck in the bayou, to my surprise. at one the wind lulled somewhat, and as we had taken all the fence-rails and a quantity of dry stuff of all sorts, we were ready to attempt our ascent, and did so. it was curious to see sixty or seventy men carrying logs forty or fifty feet long, some well dried and some green, on their shoulders, all of which were wanted by our captain, for some purpose or other. in a great number of instances the squatters, farmers, or planters, as they may be called, are found to abandon their dwellings or make towards higher grounds, which fortunately are here no farther off than from one to three miles. after we left, we met with the strength of the current, but with our stakes, fence-rails, and our dry wood, we made good headway. at one place we passed a couple of houses, with women and children, perfectly surrounded by the flood; these houses stood apparently on the margin of a river[ ] coming in from the eastward. the whole farm was under water, and all around was the very perfection of disaster and misfortune. it appeared to us as if the men had gone to procure assistance, and i was grieved that we could not offer them any. we saw several trees falling in, and beautiful, though painful, was the sight. as they fell, the spray which rose along their whole length was exquisite; but alas! these magnificent trees had reached the day of oblivion. a few miles above new brunswick we stopped to take in wood, and landed three of our indians, who, belonging to the iowa tribe, had to travel up la grande rivière. the wind lulled away, and we ran all night, touching, for a few minutes, on a bar in the middle of the river. _may ._ this morning was a beautiful one; our run last night was about thirty miles, but as we have just begun this fine day, i will copy here the habits of the pouched rats, from my notes on the spot at old mr. chouteau's, and again at st. louis, where i kept several alive for four or five days:-- plantation of pierre chouteau, sen., four miles west of st. louis, april , . i came here last evening in the company of mr. sarpy, for the express purpose of procuring some pouched rats, and as i have been fortunate enough to secure several of these strange creatures, and also to have seen and heard much connected with their habits and habitats, i write on the spot, with the wish that no recollection of facts be passed over. the present species is uncommonly abundant throughout this neighborhood, and is even found in the gardens of the city of st. louis, upon the outskirts. they are extremely pernicious animals to the planter and to the gardener, as they devour every root, grass, or vegetable within their reach, and burrow both day and night in every direction imaginable, wherever they know their insatiable appetites can be recompensed for their labor. they bring forth from five to seven young, about the th of march, and these are rather large at birth. the nest, or place of deposit, is usually rounded, and about eight inches in diameter, being globular, and well lined with the hair of the female. this nest is not placed at the end of a burrow, or in any particular one of their long galleries, but oftentimes in the road that may lead to hundreds of yards distant. from immediately around the nest, however, many galleries branch off in divers directions, all tending towards such spots as are well known to the parents to afford an abundance of food. i cannot ascertain how long the young remain under the care of the mother. having observed several freshly thrown-up mounds in mr. chouteau's garden, this excellent gentleman called to some negroes to bring spades, and to dig for the animals with the hope i might procure one alive. all hands went to work with alacrity, in the presence of dr. trudeau of st. louis, my friends the father and son chouteau, and myself. we observed that the "muloë"[ ] (the name given these animals by the creoles of this country) had worked in two or more opposite directions, and that the main gallery was about a foot beneath the surface of the ground, except where it had crossed the walks, when the burrow was sunk a few inches deeper. the work led the negroes across a large square and two of the walks, on one side of which we found large bunches of carnations, from which the roots had been cut off obliquely, close to the surface of the ground, thereby killing the plants. the roots measured / of an inch, and immediately next to them was a rosebush, where ended the burrow. the other side was now followed, and ended amidst the roots of a fine large peach-tree; these roots were more or less gashed and lacerated, but no animal was there, and on returning on our tracks, we found that several galleries, probably leading outside the garden, existed, and we gave up the chase. this species throws up the earth in mounds rarely higher than twelve to fifteen inches, and these mounds are thrown up at extremely irregular distances, being at times near to each other, and elsewhere ten to twenty, or even thirty, paces apart, yet generally leading to particular spots, well covered with grapes or vegetables of different kinds. this species remains under ground during the whole winter, inactive, and probably dormant, as they never raise or work the earth at this time. the earth thrown up is as if pulverized, and as soon as the animal has finished his labors, which are for no other purpose than to convey him securely from one spot to another, he closes the aperture, which is sometimes on the top, though more usually on the side towards the sun, leaving a kind of ring nearly one inch in breadth, and about the diameter of the body of the animal. possessed of an exquisite sense of hearing and of feeling the external pressure of objects travelling on the ground, they stop their labors instantaneously on the least alarm; but if you retire from fifteen to twenty paces to the windward of the hole, and wait for a quarter of an hour or so, you see the "gopher" (the name given to it by the missourians--_americans_) raising the earth with its back and shoulders, and forcing it out forward, leaving the aperture open during the process, and from which it at times issues a few steps, cuts the grasses around, with which it fills its pouches, and then retires to its hole to feed upon its spoils; or it sometimes sits up on its haunches and enjoys the sun, and it may then be shot, provided you are quick. if missed you see it no more, as it will prefer altering the course of its burrow and continuing its labors in quite a different direction. they may be caught in common steel-traps, and two of them were thus procured to-day; but they then injure the foot, the hind one. they are also not uncommonly thrown up by the plough, and one was caught in this manner. they have been known to destroy the roots of hundreds of young fruit-trees in the course of a few days and nights, and will cut roots of grown trees of the most valued kinds, such as apple, pear, peach, plum, etc. they differ greatly in their size and also in their colors, according to age, but not in the sexes. the young are usually gray, the old of a dark chestnut, glossy and shining brown, very difficult to represent in a drawing. the opinion commonly received and entertained, that these pouched rats fill their pouches with the earth of their burrows, and empty them when at the entrance, is, i think, quite erroneous; about a dozen which were shot in the act of raising their mounds, and killed at the very mouth of their burrows, had no earth in any of these sacs; the fore feet, teeth, nose, and the anterior portion of the head were found covered with adhesive earth, and most of them had their pouches filled either with blades of grass or roots of different sizes; and i think their being hairy rather corroborates the fact that these pouches are only used for food. in a word, they appear to me to raise the earth precisely in the manner employed by the mole. when travelling the tail drags on the ground, and they hobble along with their long front claws drawn underneath; at other times, they move by slow leaping movements, and can travel backwards almost as fast as forwards. when turned over they have much difficulty in replacing themselves in their natural position, and you may see them kicking with their legs and claws for a minute or two before they are right. they bite severely, and do not hesitate to make towards their enemies or assailants with open mouth, squealing like a rat. when they fight among themselves they make great use of the nose in the manner of hogs. they cannot travel faster than the slow walk of a man. they feed frequently while seated on the rump, using their fore paws and long claws somewhat like a squirrel. when sleeping they place the head beneath the breast, and become round, and look like a ball of earth. they clean their whiskers and body in the manner of rats, squirrels, etc. the four which i kept alive never drank anything, though water was given to them. i fed them on potatoes, cabbages, carrots, etc. they tried constantly to make their escape by gnawing at the floor, but in vain. they slept wherever they found clothing, etc., and the rascals cut the lining of my hunting-coat all to bits, so that i was obliged to have it patched and mended. in one instance i had some clothes rolled up for the washerwoman, and, on opening the bundle to count the pieces, one of the fellows caught hold of my right thumb, with fortunately a single one of its upper incisors, and hung on till i shook it off, violently throwing it on the floor, where it lay as if dead; but it recovered, and was as well as ever in less than half an hour. they gnawed the leather straps of my trunks during the night, and although i rose frequently to stop their work, they would begin anew as soon as i was in bed again. i wrote and sent most of the above to john bachman from st. louis, after i had finished my drawing of four figures of these most strange and most interesting creatures. and now to return to this day: when we reached glasgow, we came in under the stern of the "john auld." as i saw several officers of the united states army i bowed to them, and as they all knew that i was bound towards the mighty rocky mountains, they not only returned my salutations, but came on board, as well as father de smet.[ ] they all of them came to my room and saw specimens and skins. among them was captain clark,[ ] who married the sister of major sandford, whom you all know. they had lost a soldier overboard, two had deserted, and a fourth was missing. we proceeded on until about ten o'clock, and it was not until the d of may that we actually reached independence. _may ._ it stopped raining in the night while i was sound asleep, and at about one o'clock we did arrive at independence, distant about miles from st. louis.[ ] here again was the "john auld," putting out freight for the santa fé traders, and we saw many of their wagons. of course i exchanged a hand-shake with father de smet and many of the officers i had seen yesterday. mr. meeks, the agent of colonel veras, had pounds of tow in readiness for us, and i drew on the chouteaux for $ . , for we were charged no less than ½ to cts. per pound; but this tow might have passed for fine flax, and i was well contented. we left the "auld," proceeded on our way, and stopped at madame chouteau's plantation, where we put out some freight for sir william stuart. the water had been two feet deep in her house, but the river has now suddenly fallen about six feet. at madame chouteau's i saw a brother of our friend pierre chouteau, senr., now at new york, and he gave me some news respecting the murder of mr. jarvis. about twenty picked men of the neighborhood had left in pursuit of the remainder of the marauders, and had sent one of their number back, with the information that they had remained not two miles from the rascally thieves and murderers. i hope they will overtake them all, and shoot them on the spot. we saw a few squirrels, and bell killed two parrakeets. _may ._ we ran all last night and reached fort leavenworth at six this morning. we had an early breakfast, as we had intended to walk across the bend; but we found that the ground was overflowed, and that the bridges across two creeks had been carried away, and reluctantly we gave up our trip. i saw two officers who came on board, also a mr. ritchie. the situation of the fort is elevated and fine, and one has a view of the river up and down for some distance. seeing a great number of parrakeets, we went after them; bell killed one. unfortunately my gun snapped twice, or i should have killed several more. we saw several turkeys on the ground and in the trees early this morning. on our reaching the landing, a sentinel dragoon came to watch that no one tried to escape. after leaving this place we fairly entered the indian country on the west side of the river, for the state of missouri, by the purchase of the platte river country, continues for about miles further on the east side, where now we see the only settlements. we saw a good number of indians in the woods and on the banks, gazing at us as we passed; these are, however, partly civilized, and are miserable enough. major mason, who commands here at present, is ill, and i could not see him. we saw several fine horses belonging to different officers. we soon passed watson, which is considered the head of steam navigation. in attempting to pass over a shallow, but a short, cut, we grounded on a bar at five o'clock; got off, tried again, and again grounded broadside; and now that it is past six o'clock all hands are busily engaged in trying to get the boat off, but with what success i cannot say. to me the situation is a bad one, as i conceive that as we remain here, the washings of the muddy sands as they float down a powerful current will augment the bar on the weather side (if i may so express myself) of the boat. we have seen another turkey and many parrakeets, as well as a great number of burrows formed by the "siffleurs," as our french canadians call all and every species of marmots; bell and i have concluded that there must be not less than twenty to thirty of these animals for one in any portion of the atlantic states. we saw them even around the open grounds immediately about fort leavenworth. about half-past seven we fortunately removed our boat into somewhat deeper water, by straightening her bows against the stream, and this was effected by fastening our very long cable to a snag above us, about yards; and now, if we can go backwards and reach the deep waters along shore a few hundred yards below, we shall be able to make fast there for the night. unfortunately it is now raining hard, the lightning is vivid, and the appearance of the night forbidding. _thursday, may ._ we had constant rain, lightning and thunder last night. this morning, at the dawn of day, the captain and all hands were at work, and succeeded in removing the boat several hundred yards below where she had struck; but unfortunately we got fast again before we could reach deep water, and all the exertions to get off were renewed, and at this moment, almost nine, we have a line fastened to the shore and expect to be afloat in a short time. but i fear that we shall lose most of the day before we leave this shallow, intricate, and dangerous channel. at ten o'clock we found ourselves in deep water, near the shore on the west side. we at once had the men at work cutting wood, which was principally that of ash-trees of moderate size, which wood was brought on board in great quantities and lengths. thank heaven, we are off in a few minutes, and i hope will have better luck. i saw on the shore many "gopher" hills, in all probability the same as i have drawn. bell shot a gray squirrel which i believe to be the same as our _sciurus carolinensis_. friend harris shot two or three birds, which we have not yet fully established, and bell shot one lincoln's finch[ ]--strange place for it, when it breeds so very far north as labrador. caught a woodpecker, and killed a cat-bird, water-thrush, seventeen parrakeets, a yellow chat, a new finch,[ ] and very curious, two white-throated finches, one white-crown, a yellow-rump warbler, a gray squirrel, a loon, and two rough-winged swallows. we saw cerulean warblers, hooded flycatchers, kentucky warblers, nashville ditto, blue-winged ditto, red-eyed and white-eyed flycatchers, great-crested and common pewees, redstarts, towhee buntings, ferruginous thrushes, wood thrush, golden-crowned thrush, blue-gray flycatcher, blue-eyed warbler, blue yellow-back, chestnut-sided, black-and-white creepers, nuthatch, kingbirds, red tanagers, cardinal grosbeaks, common house wren, blue-winged teals, swans, large blue herons, crows, turkey-buzzards, and a peregrine falcon, red-tailed hawks, red-headed, red-bellied, and golden-winged woodpeckers, and partridges. also, innumerable "gopher" hills, one ground-hog, one rabbit, two wild turkeys, one whippoorwill, one maryland yellow-throat, and swifts. we left the shore with a strong gale of wind, and after having returned to our proper channel, and rounded the island below our troublesome situation of last night, we were forced to come to under the main shore. here we killed and saw all that is enumerated above, as well as two nests of the white-headed eagle. we are now for the night at a wooding-place, where we expect to purchase some fresh provisions, if any there are; and as it is nine o'clock i am off to bed. _friday, may ._ the appearance of the weather this morning was rather bad; it was cloudy and lowering, but instead of rain we have had a strong southwesterly wind to contend with, and on this account our day's work does not amount to much. at this moment, not eight o'clock, we have stopped through its influence. at half-past twelve we reached the black snake hills[ ] settlement, and i was delighted to see this truly beautiful site for a town or city, as will be no doubt some fifty years hence. the hills themselves are about feet above the river, and slope down gently into the beautiful prairie that extends over some thousands of acres, of the richest land imaginable. five of our trappers did not come on board at the ringing of the bell, and had to walk several miles across a bend to join us and be taken on again. we have not seen much game this day, probably on account of the high wind. we saw, however, a large flock of willets, two gulls, one grebe, many blue-winged teals, wood ducks, and coots, and one pair of mated wild geese. this afternoon a black squirrel was seen. this morning i saw a marmot; and sprague, a _sciurus macrourus_ of say. on examination of the finch killed by harris yesterday, i found it to be a new species, and i have taken its measurements across this sheet of paper.[ ] it was first seen on the ground, then on low bushes, then on large trees; no note was heard. two others, that were females to all appearance, could not be procured on account of their extreme shyness. we saw the indigo-bird, barn swallows, purple martin, and greenbacks;[ ] also, a rabbit at the black snake hills. the general aspect of the river is materially altered for the worse; it has become much more crooked or tortuous, in some places very wide with sand-banks naked and dried, so that the wind blows the sand quite high. in one place we came to a narrow and swift chute, four miles above the black snake hills, that in time of extreme high water must be very difficult of ascent. during these high winds it is very hard to steer the boat, and also to land her. the settlers on the missouri side of the river appear to relish the sight of a steamer greatly, for they all come to look at this one as we pass the different settlements. the thermometer has fallen sixteen degrees since two o'clock, and it feels now very chilly. _saturday, may ._ high wind all night and cold this morning, with the wind still blowing so hard that at half-past seven we stopped on the western shore, under a range of high hills, but on the weather side of them. we took our guns and went off, but the wind was so high we saw but little; i shot a wild pigeon and a whippoorwill, female, that gave me great trouble, as i never saw one so remarkably wild before. bell shot two gray squirrels and several vireos, and sprague, a kentucky warbler. traces of turkeys and of deer were seen. we also saw three white pelicans, but no birds to be added to our previous lot, and i have no wish to keep a strict account of the number of the same species we daily see. it is now half-past twelve; the wind is still very high, but our captain is anxious to try to proceed. we have cut some green wood, and a considerable quantity of hickory for axe-handles. in cutting down a tree we caught two young gray squirrels. a pewee flycatcher, of some species or other, was caught by the steward, who ran down the poor thing, which was starved on account of the cold and windy weather. harris shot another of the new finches, a male also, and i saw what i believe is the female, but it flew upwards of yards without stopping. bell also shot a small vireo, which is in all probability a new species[ ] (to me at least). we saw a goshawk, a marsh hawk, and a great number of blackbirds, but could not ascertain the species.[ ] the wind was still high when we left our stopping place, but we progressed, and this afternoon came alongside of a beautiful prairie of some thousands of acres, reaching to the hills. here we stopped to put out our iowa indians, and also to land the goods we had for mr. richardson, the indian agent. the goods were landed, but at the wrong place, as the agent's agent would not receive them there, on account of a creek above, which cannot at present be crossed with wagons. our sac indian chief started at once across the prairie towards the hills, on his way to his wigwam, and we saw indians on their way towards us, running on foot, and many on horseback, generally riding double on skins or on spanish saddles. even the squaws rode, and rode well too! we counted about eighty, amongst whom were a great number of youths of different ages. i was heartily glad that our own squad of them left us here. i observed that though they had been absent from their friends and relatives, they never shook hands, or paid any attention to them. when the freight was taken in we proceeded, and the whole of the indians followed along the shore at a good round run; those on horseback at times struck into a gallop. i saw more of these poor beings when we approached the landing, perched and seated on the promontories about, and many followed the boat to the landing. here the goods were received, and major richardson came on board, and paid freight. he told us we were now in the country of the fox indians as well as that of the iowas, that the number about him is over , and that his district extends about seventy miles up the river. he appears to be a pleasant man; told us that hares[ ] were very abundant--by the way, harris saw one to-day. we are now landed on the missouri side of the river, and taking in wood. we saw a pigeon hawk, found partridges paired, and some also in flocks. when we landed during the high wind we saw a fine sugar camp belonging to indians. i was pleased to see that many of the troughs they make are formed of bark, and that both ends are puckered and tied so as to resemble a sort of basket or canoe. they had killed many wild turkeys, geese, and crows, all of which they eat. we also procured a white-eyed and a warbling vireo, and shot a male wild pigeon. saw a gopher throwing out the dirt with his fore feet and not from his pouches. i was within four or five feet of it. shot a humming-bird, saw a mourning warbler, and cedar-birds. [illustration: columba passerina, ground dove. (now columbigallina passerina terrestri.) from the unpublished drawing by j. j. audubon, .] _may , sunday._ fine weather, but cool. saw several gray squirrels and one black. i am told by one of our pilots, who has killed seven or eight, that they are much larger than _sciurus macrourus_, that the hair is coarse, that they are clumsy in their motions, and that they are found from the black snake hills to some distance above the council bluffs. we landed to cut wood at eleven, and we went ashore. harris killed another of the new finches, a male also; the scarcity of the females goes on, proving how much earlier the males sally forth on their migrations towards the breeding grounds. we saw five sand-hill cranes, some goldfinches, yellowshanks, tell-tale godwits, solitary snipes, and the woods were filled with house wrens singing their merry songs. the place, however, was a bad one, for it was a piece of bottom land that had overflowed, and was sadly muddy and sticky. at twelve the bell rang for harris, bell, and me to return, which we did at once, as dinner was preparing for the table. talking of dinner makes me think of giving you the hours, usually, of our meals. breakfast at half-past six, dinner at half-past twelve, tea or supper at seven or later as the case may be. we have not taken much wood here; it is ash, but quite green. we saw orchard orioles, blue-gray flycatchers, great-crested and common pewees, mallards, pileated woodpeckers, blue jays, and bluebirds; heard a marsh wren, saw a crow, a wood thrush, and water thrush. indigo-birds and parrakeets plentiful. this afternoon we went into the pocket of a sand bar, got aground, and had to back out for almost a mile. we saw an abundance of ducks, some white pelicans, and an animal that we guessed was a skunk. we have run about fifty miles, and therefore have done a good day's journey. we have passed the mouths of several small rivers, and also some very fine prairie land, extending miles towards the hills. it is now nine o'clock, a beautiful night with the moon shining. we have seen several ravens, and white-headed eagles on their nests. _may , monday._ a beautiful calm day; the country we saw was much the same as that we passed yesterday, and nothing of great importance took place except that at a wooding-place on the very verge of the state of missouri (the northwest corner) bell killed a black squirrel which friend bachman has honored with the name of my son john, _sciurus audubonii_.[ ] we are told that this species is not uncommon here. it was a good-sized adult male, and sprague drew an outline of it. harris shot another specimen of the new finch. we saw parrakeets and many small birds, but nothing new or very rare. this evening i wrote a long letter to each house, john bachman, gideon b. smith of baltimore, and j. w. h. page of new bedford, with the hope of having them forwarded from the council bluffs. _may , tuesday._ another fine day. after running until eleven o'clock we stopped to cut wood, and two rose-breasted grosbeaks were shot, a common blue-bird, and a common northern titmouse. we saw white pelicans, geese, ducks, etc. one of our trappers cut one of his feet dreadfully with his axe, and harris, who is now the doctor, attended to it as best he could. this afternoon we reached the famous establishment of belle vue[ ] where resides the brother of mr. sarpy of st. louis, as well as the indian agent, or, as he might be more appropriately called, the custom house officer. neither were at home, both away on the platte river, about miles off. we had a famous pack of rascally indians awaiting our landing--filthy and half-starved. we landed some cargo for the establishment, and i saw a trick of the trade which made me laugh. eight cords of wood were paid for with five tin cups of sugar and three of coffee--value at st. louis about twenty-five cents. we have seen a fish hawk, savannah finch, green-backed swallows, rough-winged swallows, martins, parrakeets, black-headed gulls, blackbirds, and cow-birds; i will repeat that the woods are fairly alive with house wrens. blue herons, _emberiza pallida_--clay-colored bunting of swainson--henslow's bunting, crow blackbirds; and, more strange than all, two large cakes of ice were seen by our pilots and ourselves. i am very much fatigued and will finish the account of this day to-morrow. at belle vue we found the brother-in-law of old provost, who acts as clerk in the absence of mr. sarpy. the store is no great affair, and yet i am told that they drive a good trade with indians on the platte river, and others, on this side of the missouri. we unloaded some freight, and pushed off. we saw here the first ploughing of the ground we have observed since we left the lower settlements near st. louis. we very soon reached the post of fort croghan,[ ] so called after my old friend of that name with whom i hunted raccoons on his father's plantation in kentucky some thirty-eight years ago, and whose father and my own were well acquainted, and fought together in conjunction with george washington and lafayette, during the revolutionary war, against "merrie england." here we found only a few soldiers, dragoons; their camp and officers having been forced to move across the prairie to the bluffs, five miles. after we had put out some freight for the sutler, we proceeded on until we stopped for the night a few miles above, on the same side of the river. the soldiers assured us that their parade ground, and so-called barracks, had been four feet under water, and we saw fair and sufficient evidence of this. at this place our pilot saw the first yellow-headed troupial we have met with. we landed for the night under trees covered by muddy deposits from the great overflow of this season. i slept soundly, and have this morning, may , written this. _may , wednesday._ the morning was fine, and we were under way at daylight; but a party of dragoons, headed by a lieutenant, had left their camp four miles distant from our anchorage at the same time, and reached the shore before we had proceeded far; they fired a couple of rifle shots ahead of us, and we brought to at once. the young officer came on board, and presented a letter from his commander, captain burgwin, from which we found that we had to have our cargo examined. our captain[ ] was glad of it, and so were we all; for, finding that it would take several hours, we at once ate our breakfast, and made ready to go ashore. i showed my credentials and orders from the government, major mitchell of st. louis, etc., and i was therefore immediately settled comfortably. i desired to go to see the commanding officer, and the lieutenant very politely sent us there on horseback, guided by an old dragoon of considerable respectability. i was mounted on a young white horse, spanish saddle with holsters, and we proceeded across the prairie towards the bluffs and the camp. my guide was anxious to take a short cut, and took me across several bayous, one of which was really up to the saddle; but we crossed that, and coming to another we found it so miry, that his horse wheeled after two or three steps, whilst i was looking at him before starting myself; for you all well know that an old traveller is, and must be, prudent. we now had to retrace our steps till we reached the very tracks that the squad sent after us in the morning had taken, and at last we reached the foot of the bluffs, when my guide asked me if i "could ride at a gallop," to which not answering him, but starting at once at a round run, i neatly passed him ere his horse was well at the pace; on we went, and in a few minutes we entered a beautiful dell or valley, and were in sight of the encampment. we reached this in a trice, and rode between two lines of pitched tents to one at the end, where i dismounted, and met captain burgwin,[ ] a young man, brought up at west point, with whom i was on excellent and friendly terms in less time than it has taken me to write this account of our meeting. i showed him my credentials, at which he smiled, and politely assured me that i was too well known throughout our country to need any letters. while seated in front of his tent, i heard the note of a bird new to me, and as it proceeded from a tree above our heads, i looked up and saw the first yellow-headed troupial alive that ever came across my own migrations. the captain thought me probably crazy, as i thought rafinesque when he was at henderson; for i suddenly started, shot at the bird, and killed it. afterwards i shot three more at one shot, but only one female amid hundreds of these yellow-headed blackbirds. they are quite abundant here, feeding on the surplus grain that drops from the horses' troughs; they walked under, and around the horses, with as much confidence as if anywhere else. when they rose, they generally flew to the very tops of the tallest trees, and there, swelling their throats, partially spreading their wings and tail, they issue their croaking note, which is a compound, not to be mistaken, between that of the crow blackbird and that of the red-winged starling. after i had fired at them twice they became quite shy, and all of them flew off to the prairies. i saw then two magpies[ ] in a cage, that had been caught in nooses, by the legs; and their actions, voice, and general looks, assured me as much as ever, that they are the very same species as that found in europe. prairie wolves are extremely abundant hereabouts. they are so daring that they come into the camp both by day and by night; we found their burrows in the banks and in the prairie, and had i come here yesterday i should have had a superb specimen killed here, but which was devoured by the hogs belonging to the establishment. the captain and the doctor--madison[ ] by name--returned with us to the boat, and we saw many more yellow-headed troupials. the high bluffs back of the prairie are destitute of stones. on my way there i saw abundance of gopher hills, two geese paired, two yellow-crowned herons, red-winged starlings, cowbirds, common crow blackbirds, a great number of baltimore orioles, a swallow-tailed hawk, yellow red-poll warbler, field sparrow, and chipping sparrow. sprague killed another of the beautiful finch. robins are very scarce, parrakeets and wild turkeys plentiful. the officers came on board, and we treated them as hospitably as we could; they ate their lunch with us, and are themselves almost destitute of provisions. last july the captain sent twenty dragoons and as many indians on a hunt for buffaloes. during the hunt they killed buffaloes, deer, and elks, within miles of the camp. the sioux indians are great enemies to the potowatamies, and very frequently kill several of the latter in their predatory excursions against them. this kind of warfare has rendered the potowatamies very cowardly, which is quite a remarkable change from their previous valor and daring. bell collected six different species of shells, and found a large lump of pumice stone which does float on the water. we left our anchorage (which means tied to the shore) at twelve o'clock, and about sunset we did pass the real council bluffs.[ ] here, however, the bed of the river is utterly changed, though you may yet see that which is now called the old missouri. the bluffs stand, truly speaking, on a beautiful bank almost forty feet above the water, and run off on a rich prairie, to the hills in the background in a gentle slope, that renders the whole place a fine and very remarkable spot. we tied up for the night about three miles above them, and all hands went ashore to cut wood, which begins to be somewhat scarce, of a good quality. our captain cut and left several cords of green wood for his return trip, at this place; harris and bell went on shore, and saw several bats, and three turkeys. this afternoon a deer was seen scampering across the prairies until quite out of sight. wild-gooseberry bushes are very abundant, and the fruit is said to be very good. _may , thursday._ we had a night of rain, thunder, and heavy wind from the northeast, and we did not start this morning till seven o'clock, therefore had a late breakfast. there was a bright blood-red streak on the horizon at four o'clock that looked forbidding, but the weather changed as we proceeded, with, however, showers of rain at various intervals during the day. we have now come to a portion of the river more crooked than any we have passed; the shores on both sides are evidently lower, the hills that curtain the distance are further from the shores, and the intervening space is mostly prairie, more or less overflowed. we have seen one wolf on a sand-bar, seeking for food, perhaps dead fish. the actions were precisely those of a cur dog with a long tail, and the bellowing sound of the engine did not seem to disturb him. he trotted on parallel to the boat for about one mile, when we landed to cut drift-wood. bell, harris, and i went on shore to try to have a shot at him. he was what is called a brindle-colored wolf,[ ] of the common size. one hundred trappers, however, with their axes at work, in a few moments rather stopped his progress, and when he saw us coming, he turned back on his track, and trotted off, but bell shot a very small load in the air to see the effect it would produce. the fellow took two or three leaps, stopped, looked at us for a moment, and then started on a gentle gallop. when i overtook his tracks they appeared small, and more rounded than usual. i saw several tracks at the same time, therefore more than one had travelled over this great sandy and muddy bar last night, if not this morning. i lost sight of him behind some large piles of drift-wood, and could see him no more. turkey-buzzards were on the bar, and i thought that i should have found some dead carcass; but on reaching the spot, nothing was there. a fine large raven passed at one hundred yards from us, but i did not shoot. bell found a few small shells, and harris shot a yellow-rumped warbler. we have seen several white pelicans, geese, black-headed gulls, and green-backed swallows, but nothing new. the night is cloudy and intimates more rain. we are fast to a willowed shore, and are preparing lines to try our luck at catching a catfish or so. i was astonished to find how much stiffened i was this morning, from the exercise i took on horseback yesterday, and think that now it would take me a week, at least, to accustom my body to riding as i was wont to do twenty years ago. the timber is becoming more scarce as we proceed, and i greatly fear that our only opportunities of securing wood will be those afforded us by that drifted on the bars. _may , friday._ the morning was foggy, thick, and calm. we passed the river called the _sioux pictout_,[ ] a small stream formerly abounding with beavers, otters, muskrats, etc., but now quite destitute of any of these creatures. on going along the banks bordering a long and wide prairie, thick with willows and other small brush-wood, we saw four black-tailed deer[ ] immediately on the bank; they trotted away without appearing to be much alarmed; after a few hundred yards, the two largest, probably males, raised themselves on their hind feet and pawed at each other, after the manner of stallions. they trotted off again, stopping often, but after a while disappeared; we saw them again some hundreds of yards farther on, when, becoming suddenly alarmed, they bounded off until out of sight. they did not trot or run irregularly as our virginian deer does, and their color was of a brownish cast, whilst our common deer at this season is red. could we have gone ashore, we might in all probability have killed one or two of them. we stopped to cut wood on the opposite side of the river, where we went on shore, and there saw many tracks of deer, elk, wolves, and turkeys. in attempting to cross a muddy place to shoot at some yellow-headed troupials that were abundant, i found myself almost mired, and returned with difficulty. we only shot a blackburnian warbler, a yellow-winged ditto, and a few finches. we have seen more geese than usual as well as mallards and wood ducks. this afternoon the weather cleared up, and a while before sunset we passed under wood's bluffs,[ ] so called because a man of that name fell overboard from his boat while drunk. we saw there many bank swallows, and afterwards we came in view of the blackbird hill,[ ] where the famous indian chief of that name was buried, at his request, on his horse, whilst the animal was alive. we are now fast to the shore opposite this famed bluff. we cut good ash wood this day, and have made a tolerable run, say forty miles. _saturday, may ._ this morning was extremely foggy, although i could plainly see the orb of day trying to force its way through the haze. while this lasted all hands were engaged in cutting wood, and we did not leave our fastening-place till seven, to the great grief of our commander. during the wood cutting, bell walked to the top of the hills, and shot two lark buntings, males, and a lincoln's finch. after a while we passed under some beautiful bluffs surmounted by many cedars, and these bluffs were composed of fine white sandstone, of a soft texture, but very beautiful to the eye. in several places along this bluff we saw clusters of nests of swallows, which we all looked upon as those of the cliff swallow, although i saw not one of the birds. we stopped again to cut wood, for our opportunities are not now very convenient. went out, but only shot a fine large turkey-hen, which i brought down on the wing at about forty yards. it ran very swiftly, however, and had not harris's dog come to our assistance, we might have lost it. as it was, however, the dog pointed, and harris shot it, with my small shot-gun, whilst i was squatted on the ground amid a parcel of low bushes. i was astonished to see how many of the large shot i had put into her body. this hen weighed ¾ pounds. she had a nest, no doubt, but we could not find it. we saw a good number of geese, though fewer than yesterday; ducks also. we passed many fine prairies, and in one place i was surprised to see the richness of the bottom lands. we saw this morning eleven indians of the omaha tribe. they made signals for us to land, but our captain never heeded them, for he hates the red-skins as most men hate the devil. one of them fired a gun, the group had only one, and some ran along the shore for nearly two miles, particularly one old gentleman who persevered until we came to such bluff shores as calmed down his spirits. in another place we saw one seated on a log, close by the frame of a canoe; but he looked surly, and never altered his position as we passed. the frame of this boat resembled an ordinary canoe. it is formed by both sticks giving a half circle; the upper edges are fastened together by a long stick, as well as the centre of the bottom. outside of this stretches a buffalo skin without the hair on; it is said to make a light and safe craft to cross even the turbid, rapid stream--the missouri. by simply looking at them, one may suppose that they are sufficiently large to carry two or three persons. on a sand-bar afterwards we saw three more indians, also with a canoe frame, but we only interchanged the common yells usual on such occasions. they looked as destitute and as hungry as if they had not eaten for a week, and no doubt would have given much for a bottle of whiskey. at our last landing for wood-cutting, we also went on shore, but shot nothing, not even took aim at a bird; and there was an indian with a flint-lock rifle, who came on board and stared about until we left, when he went off with a little tobacco. i pity these poor beings from my heart! this evening we came to the burial-ground bluff of sergeant floyd,[ ] one of the companions of the never-to-be-forgotten expedition of lewis and clark, over the rocky mountains, to the pacific ocean. a few minutes afterwards, before coming to floyd's creek, we started several turkey-cocks from their roost, and had we been on shore could have accounted for more than one of them. the prairies are becoming more common and more elevated; we have seen more evergreens this day than we have done for two weeks at least. this evening is dark and rainy, with lightning and some distant thunder, and we have entered the mouth of the big sioux river,[ ] where we are fastened for the night. this is a clear stream and abounds with fish, and on one of the branches of this river is found the famous red clay, of which the precious pipes, or calumets are manufactured. we will try to procure some on our return homeward. it is late; had the weather been clear, and the moon, which is full, shining, it was our intention to go ashore, to try to shoot wild turkeys; but as it is pouring down rain, and as dark as pitch, we have thrown our lines overboard and perhaps may catch a fish. we hope to reach vermilion river day after to-morrow. we saw abundance of the birds which i have before enumerated. _may , sunday._ it rained hard and thundered during the night; we started at half-past three, when it had cleared, and the moon shone brightly. the river is crooked as ever, with large bars, and edged with prairies. saw many geese, and a long-billed curlew. one poor goose had been wounded in the wing; when approached, it dived for a long distance and came up along the shore. then we saw a black bear, swimming across the river, and it caused a commotion. some ran for their rifles, and several shots were fired, some of which almost touched bruin; but he kept on, and swam very fast. bell shot at it with large shot and must have touched it. when it reached the shore, it tried several times to climb up, but each time fell back. it at last succeeded, almost immediately started off at a gallop, and was soon lost to sight. we stopped to cut wood at twelve o'clock, in one of the vilest places we have yet come to. the rushes were waist-high, and the whole underbrush tangled by grape vines. the deer and the elks had beaten paths which we followed for a while, but we saw only their tracks, and those of turkeys. harris found a heronry of the common blue heron, composed of about thirty nests, but the birds were shy and he did not shoot at any. early this morning a dead buffalo floated by us, and after a while the body of a common cow, which had probably belonged to the fort above this. mr. sire told us that at this point, two years ago, he overtook three of the deserters of the company, who had left a keel-boat in which they were going down to st. louis. they had a canoe when overtaken; he took their guns from them, destroyed the canoe, and left them there. on asking him what had become of them, he said they had walked back to the establishment at the mouth of vermilion river, which by land is only ten miles distant; ten miles, through such woods as we tried in vain to hunt in, is a walk that i should not like at all. we stayed cutting wood for about two hours, when we started again; but a high wind arose, so that we could not make headway, and had to return and make fast again, only a few hundred yards from the previous spot. on such occasions our captain employs his wood-cutters in felling trees, and splitting and piling the wood until his return downwards, in about one month, perhaps, from now. in talking with our captain he tells us that the black bear is rarely seen swimming this river, and that one or two of them are about all he observes on going up each trip. i have seen them swimming in great numbers on the lower parts of the ohio, and on the mississippi. it is said that at times, when the common wolves are extremely hard pressed for food, they will eat certain roots which they dig up for the purpose, and the places from which they take this food look as if they had been spaded. when they hunt a buffalo, and have killed it, they drag it to some distance--about sixty yards or so--and dig a hole large enough to receive and conceal it; they then cover it with earth, and lie down over it until hungry again, when they uncover, and feed upon it. along the banks of the rivers, when the buffaloes fall, or cannot ascend, and then die, the wolves are seen in considerable numbers feeding upon them. although cunning beyond belief in hiding at the report of a gun, they almost instantly show themselves from different parts around, and if you wish to kill some, you have only to hide yourself, and you will see them coming to the game you have left, when you are not distant more than thirty or forty yards. it is said that though they very frequently hunt their game until the latter take to the river, they seldom, if ever, follow after it. the wind that drove us ashore augmented into a severe gale, and by its present appearance looks as if it would last the whole night. our fire was comfortable, for, as you know, the thermometer has been very changeable since noon. we have had rain also, though not continuous, but quite enough to wet our men, who, notwithstanding have cut and piled about twelve cords of wood, besides the large quantity we have on board for to-morrow, when we hope the weather will be good and calm. _may , monday._ the wind continued an irregular gale the whole of the night, and the frequent logs that struck our weather side kept me awake until nearly daybreak, when i slept about two hours; it unfortunately happened that we were made fast upon the weather shore. this morning the gale kept up, and as we had nothing better to do, it was proposed that we should walk across the bottom lands, and attempt to go to the prairies, distant about two and a half miles. this was accordingly done; bell, harris, mr. la barge[ ]--the first pilot--a mulatto hunter named michaux, and i, started at nine. we first crossed through tangled brush-wood, and high-grown rushes for a few hundreds of yards, and soon perceived that here, as well as all along the missouri and mississippi, the land is highest nearest the shore, and falls off the farther one goes inland. thus we soon came to mud, and from mud to muddy water, as _pure_ as it runs in the missouri itself; at every step which we took we raised several pounds of mud on our boots. friend harris very wisely returned, but the remainder of us proceeded through thick and thin until we came in sight of the prairies. but, alas! between us and them there existed a regular line of willows--and who ever saw willows grow far from water? here we were of course stopped, and after attempting in many places to cross the water that divided us from the dry land, we were forced back, and had to return as best we could. we were mud up to the very middle, the perspiration ran down us, and at one time i was nearly exhausted; which proves to me pretty clearly that i am no longer as young, or as active, as i was some thirty years ago. when we reached the boat i was glad of it. we washed, changed our clothes, dined, and felt much refreshed. during our excursion out, bell saw a virginian rail, and our sense of smell brought us to a dead elk, putrid, and largely consumed by wolves, whose tracks were very numerous about it. after dinner we went to the heronry that harris had seen yesterday afternoon; for we had moved only one mile above the place of our wooding before we were again forced on shore. here we killed four fine individuals, all on the wing, and some capital shots they were, besides a raven. unfortunately we had many followers, who destroyed our sport; therefore we returned on board, and at half-past four left our landing-place, having cut and piled up between forty and fifty cords of wood for the return of the "omega." the wind has lulled down considerably, we have run seven or eight miles, and are again fast to the shore. it is reported that the water has risen two feet, but this is somewhat doubtful. we saw abundance of tracks of elk, deer, wolf, and bear, and had it been anything like tolerably dry ground, we should have had a good deal of sport. saw this evening another dead buffalo floating down the river. _may , tuesday._ at three o'clock this fair morning we were under way, but the water has actually risen a great deal, say three feet, since sunday noon. the current therefore is very strong, and impedes our progress greatly. we found that the herons we had killed yesterday had not yet laid the whole of their eggs, as we found one in full order, ripe, and well colored and conditioned. i feel assured that the ravens destroy a great many of their eggs, as i saw one helping itself to two eggs, at two different times, on the same nest. we have seen a great number of black-headed gulls, and some black terns, some indians on the east side of the river, and a prairie wolf, dead, hung across a prong of a tree. after a while we reached a spot where we saw ten or more indians who had a large log cabin, and a field under fence. then we came to the establishment called that of vermilion river,[ ] and met mr. cerré, called usually pascal, the agent of the company at this post, a handsome french gentleman, of good manners. he dined with us. after this we landed, and walked to the fort, if the place may so be called, for we found it only a square, strongly picketed, without portholes. it stands on the immediate bank of the river, opposite a long and narrow island, and is backed by a vast prairie, all of which was inundated during the spring freshet. he told me that game was abundant, such as elk, deer, and bear; but that ducks, geese, and swans were extremely scarce this season. hares are plenty--no rabbits. we left as soon as possible, for our captain is a pushing man most truly. we passed some remarkable bluffs of blue and light limestone, towards the top of which we saw an abundance of cliff-swallows, and counted upwards of two hundred nests. but, alas! we have finally met with an accident. a plate of one of our boilers was found to be burned out, and we were obliged to stop on the west side of the river, about ten miles below the mouth of the vermilion river. here we were told that we might go ashore and hunt to our hearts' content; and so i have, but shot at nothing. bell, michaux, and i, walked to the hills full three miles off, saw an extraordinary quantity of deer, wolf, and elk tracks, as well as some of wild cats. bell started a deer, and after a while i heard him shoot. michaux took to the top of the hills, bell about midway, and i followed near the bottom; all in vain, however. i started a woodcock, and caught one of her young, and i am now sorry for this evil deed. a dead buffalo cow and calf passed us a few moments ago. squires has seen one other, during our absence. we took at mr. cerré's establishment two _engagés_ and four sioux indians. we are obliged to keep bright eyes upon them, for they are singularly light-fingered. the woods are filled with wild-gooseberry bushes, and a kind of small locust not yet in bloom, and quite new to me. the honey bee was not found in this country twenty years ago, and now they are abundant. a keel-boat passed, going down, but on the opposite side of the river. bell and michaux have returned. bell wounded a large wolf, and also a young deer, but brought none on board, though he saw several of the latter. harris killed one of the large new finches, and a yellow-headed troupial. bell intends going hunting to-morrow at daylight, with michaux; i will try my luck too, but do not intend going till after breakfast, for i find that walking eight or ten miles through the tangled and thorny underbrush, fatigues me considerably, though twenty years ago i should have thought nothing of it. _may , wednesday._ this was a most lovely morning. bell went off with michaux at four a. m. i breakfasted at five, and started with mr. la barge. when we reached the hunting-grounds, about six miles distant, we saw bell making signs to us to go to him, and i knew from that that they had some fresh meat. when we reached them, we found a very large deer that michaux had killed. squires shot a woodcock, which i ate for my dinner, in company with the captain. michaux had brought the deer--indian fashion--about two miles. i was anxious to examine some of the intestines, and we all three started on the tracks of michaux, leaving squires to keep the wolves away from the dead deer. we went at once towards a small stream meandering at the foot of the hills, and as we followed it, bell shot at a turkey-cock about eighty yards; his ball cut a streak of feathers from its back, but the gobbler went off. when we approached the spot where michaux had opened the deer, we did so cautiously, in the hope of then shooting a wolf, but none had come; we therefore made our observations, and took up the tongue, which had been forgotten. bell joined us, and as we were returning to squires we saw flocks of the chestnut-collared lark or ground-finch, whose exact measurement i have here given, and almost at the same time saw harris. he and bell went off after the finches; we pursued our course to squires, and waited for their return. seeing no men to help carry the deer, michaux picked it up, squires took his gun, etc., and we made for the river again. we had the good luck to meet the barge coming, and we reached our boat easily in a few minutes, with our game. i saw upwards of twelve of harris' new finch (?) a marsh hawk, henslow's bunting, _emberiza pallida_, robins, wood thrushes, bluebirds, ravens, the same abundance of house wrens, and all the birds already enumerated. we have seen floating eight buffaloes, one antelope, and one deer; how great the destruction of these animals must be during high freshets! the cause of their being drowned in such extraordinary numbers might not astonish one acquainted with the habits of these animals, but to one who is not, it may be well enough for me to describe it. some few hundred miles above us, the river becomes confined between high bluffs or cliffs, many of which are nearly perpendicular, and therefore extremely difficult to ascend. when the buffaloes have leaped or tumbled down from either side of the stream, they swim with ease across, but on reaching these walls, as it were, the poor animals try in vain to climb them, and becoming exhausted by falling back some dozens of times, give up the ghost, and float down the turbid stream; their bodies have been known to pass, swollen and putrid, the city of st. louis. the most extraordinary part of the history of these drowned buffaloes is, that the different tribes of indians on the shores, are ever on the lookout for them, and no matter how putrid their flesh may be, provided the hump proves at all fat, they swim to them, drag them on shore, and cut them to pieces; after which they cook and eat this loathsome and abominable flesh, even to the marrow found in the bones. in some instances this has been done when the whole of the hair had fallen off, from the rottenness of the buffalo. ah! mr. catlin, i am now sorry to see and to read your accounts of the indians _you_ saw[ ]--how very different they must have been from any that i have seen! whilst we were on the top of the high hills which we climbed this morning, and looked towards the valley beneath us, including the river, we were undetermined as to whether we saw as much land dry as land overflowed; the immense flat prairie on the east side of the river looked not unlike a lake of great expanse, and immediately beneath us the last freshet had left upwards of perhaps two or three hundred acres covered by water, with numbers of water fowl on it, but so difficult of access as to render our wishes to kill ducks quite out of the question. from the tops of the hills we saw only a continual succession of other lakes, of the same form and nature; and although the soil was of a fair, or even good, quality, the grass grew in tufts, separated from each other, and as it grows green in one spot, it dies and turns brown in another. we saw here no "carpeted prairies," no "velvety distant landscape;" and if these things are to be seen, why, the sooner we reach them the better. this afternoon i took the old nest of a vireo, fully three feet above my head, filled with dried mud; it was attached to two small prongs issuing from a branch fully the size of my arm; this proves how high the water must have risen. again, we saw large trees of which the bark had been torn off by the rubbing or cutting of the ice, as high as my shoulder. this is accounted for as follows: during the first breaking up of the ice, it at times accumulates, so as to form a complete dam across the river; and when this suddenly gives way by the heat of the atmosphere, and the great pressure of the waters above the dam, the whole rushes on suddenly and overflows the country around, hurling the ice against any trees in its course. sprague has shot two _emberiza pallida_, two lincoln's finches, and a black and yellow warbler, _sylvicola [dendroeca] maculosa_. one of our trappers, who had gone to the hills, brought on board two rattlesnakes of a kind which neither harris nor myself had seen before. the four indians we have on board are three puncas[ ] and one sioux; the puncas were formerly attached to the omahas; but, having had some difficulties among themselves, they retired further up the river, and assumed this new name. the omahas reside altogether on the west side of the missouri. three of the puncas have walked off to the establishment of mr. cerré to procure moccasins, but will return to-night. they appear to be very poor, and with much greater appetites than friend catlin describes them to have. our men are stupid, and very superstitious; they believe the rattles of snakes are a perfect cure for the headache; also, that they never die till after sunset, etc. we have discovered the female of harris's finch, which, as well as in the white-crowned finch, resembles the male almost entirely; it is only a very little paler in its markings. i am truly proud to name it _fringilla harrisii_, in honor of one of the best friends i have in this world. _may , thursday._ our good captain called us all up at a quarter before four this fair morning, to tell us that four barges had arrived from fort pierre, and that we might write a few letters, which mr. laidlaw,[ ] one of the partners, would take to st. louis for us. i was introduced to that gentleman and also to major dripps,[ ] the indian agent. i wrote four short letters, which i put in an envelope addressed to the messieurs chouteau & co., of st. louis, who will post them, and we have hopes that some may reach their destination. the names of these four boats are "war eagle," "white cloud," "crow feather," and "red-fish." we went on board one of them, and found it comfortable enough. they had ten thousand buffalo robes on the four boats; the men live entirely on buffalo meat and pemmican. they told us that about a hundred miles above us the buffalo were by thousands, that the prairies were covered with dead calves, and the shores lined with dead of all sorts; that antelopes were there also, and a great number of wolves, etc.; therefore we shall see them after a while. mr. laidlaw told me that he would be back at fort pierre in two months, and would see us on our return. he is a true scot, and apparently a clean one. we gave them six bottles of whiskey, for which they were very thankful; they gave us dried buffalo meat, and three pairs of moccasins. they breakfasted with us, preferring salt meat to fresh venison. they departed soon after six o'clock, and proceeded rapidly down-stream in indian file. these boats are strong and broad; the tops, or roofs, are supported by bent branches of trees, and these are covered by water-proof buffalo hides; each has four oarsmen and a steersman, who manages the boat standing on a broad board; the helm is about ten feet long, and the rudder itself is five or six feet long. they row constantly for sixteen hours, and stop regularly at sundown; they, unfortunately for us, spent the night about two miles above us, for had we known of their immediate proximity we should have had the whole of the night granted for writing long, long letters. our prospect of starting to-day is somewhat doubtful, as the hammering at the boilers still reaches my ears. the day is bright and calm. mr. laidlaw told us that on the th of may the snow fell two feet on the level, and destroyed thousands of buffalo calves. we felt the same storm whilst we were fast on the bar above fort leavenworth. this has been a day of almost pure idleness; our tramps of yesterday and the day previous had tired me, and with the exception of shooting at marks, and sprague killing one of bell's vireo, and a least pewee, as well as another female of harris's finch, we have done nothing. bell this evening went off to look for bats, but saw none. _may , friday._ this has been a beautiful, but a very dull day to us all. we started by moonlight at three this morning, and although we have been running constantly, we took the wrong channel twice, and thereby lost much of our precious time; so i look upon this day's travel as a very poor one. the river was in several places inexpressibly wide and shallow. we saw a deer of the common kind swimming across the stream; but few birds were killed, although we stopped (unfortunately) three times for wood. i forgot to say yesterday two things which i should have related, one of which is of a dismal and very disagreeable nature, being no less than the account given us of the clerks of the company having killed one of the chiefs of the blackfeet tribe of indians, at the upper settlement of the company, at the foot of the great falls of the missouri, and therefore at the base of the rocky mountains, and mr. laidlaw assured us that it would be extremely dangerous for us to go that far towards these indians. the other thing is that mr. laidlaw brought down a daughter of his, a half-breed of course, whom he is taking to st. louis to be educated. we saw another deer crossing the river, and have shot only a few birds, of no consequence. _may , saturday._ we have not made much progress this day, for the wind rose early, and rather ahead. we have passed to-day jacques river,[ ] or, as i should call it, la rivière à jacques, named after a man who some twenty or more years ago settled upon its banks, and made some money by collecting beavers, etc., but who is dead and gone. three white wolves were seen this morning, and after a while we saw a fourth, of the brindled kind, which was trotting leisurely on, about yards distant from the bank, where he had probably been feeding on some carrion or other. a shot from a rifle was quite enough to make him turn off up the river again, but farther from us, at a full gallop; after a time he stopped again, when the noise of our steam pipe started him, and we soon lost sight of him in the bushes. we saw three deer in the flat of one of the prairies, and just before our dinner we saw, rather indistinctly, a number of buffaloes, making their way across the hills about two miles distant; after which, however, we saw their heavy tracks in a well and deep cut line across the said hills. therefore we are now in what is pronounced to be the "buffalo country," and may expect to see more of these animals to-morrow. we have stopped for wood no less than three times this day, and are fast for the night. sprague killed a _pipilo arcticus_, and bell three others of the same species. we procured also another bat, the _vespertilio subulatus_ of say, and this is all. the country around us has materially changed, and we now see more naked, and to my eyes more completely denuded, hills about us, and less of the rich bottoms of alluvial land, than we passed below our present situation. i will not anticipate the future by all that we hear of the country above, but will continue steadily to accumulate in this, my poor journal, all that may take place from day to day. three of our indian rascals left us at our last wooding-ground, and have gone towards their miserable village. we have now only one sioux with us, who will, the captain says, go to fort pierre in our company. they are, all that we have had as yet, a thieving and dirty set, covered with vermin. we still see a great number of black-headed gulls, but i think fewer geese and ducks than below; this probably on account of the very swampy prairie we have seen, and which appears to become scarce as we are advancing in this strange wilderness. _may , sunday._ we have had a great deal that interested us all this day. in the first place we have passed no less than five of what are called rivers, and their names are as follows:[ ] manuel, basil, l'eau qui court, ponca creek, and chouteau's river, all of which are indifferent streams of no magnitude, except the swift-flowing l'eau qui court,[ ] which in some places is fully as broad as the missouri itself, fully as muddy, filled with quicksands, and so remarkably shallow that in the autumn its navigation is very difficult indeed. we have seen this day about fifty buffaloes; two which we saw had taken to the river, with intent to swim across it, but on the approach of our thundering, noisy vessel, turned about and after struggling for a few minutes, did make out to reach the top of the bank, after which they travelled at a moderate gait for some hundreds of yards; then, perhaps smelling or seeing the steamboat, they went off at a good though not very fast gallop, on the prairie by our side, and were soon somewhat ahead of us; they stopped once or twice, again resumed their gallop, and after a few diversions in their course, made to the hill-tops and disappeared altogether. we stopped to wood at a very propitious place indeed, for it was no less than the fort put up some years ago by monsieur le clerc. finding no one at the spot, we went to work cutting the pickets off his fortifications till we were loaded with the very best of dry wood. after we left that spot, were found several _pipilo arcticus_ which were shot, as well as a say's flycatcher. the wind rose pretty high, and after trying our best to stem the current under very high cliffs, we were landed on poncas island, where all of us excepting squires, who was asleep, went on shore to hunt, and to shoot whatever we might find. it happened that this island was well supplied with game; we saw many deer, and bell killed a young doe, which proved good as fresh meat. some twelve or fourteen of these animals were seen, and bell saw three elks which he followed across the island, also a wolf in its hole, but did not kill it. sprague saw a forked-tailed hawk, too far off to shoot at. we passed several dead buffaloes near the shore, on which the ravens were feeding gloriously. the _pipilo arcticus_ is now extremely abundant, and so is the house wren, yellow-breasted chat, etc. we have seen this day black-headed gulls, sandpipers, and ducks, and now i am going to rest, for after my long walk through the deep mud to reach the ridge on the islands, i feel somewhat wearied and fatigued. three antelopes were seen this evening. _may , monday._ we started as early as usual, _i. e._, at half-past three; the weather was fine. we breakfasted before six, and immediately after saw two wild cats of the common kind; we saw them running for some hundreds of yards. we also saw several large wolves, noticing particularly one pure white, that stood and looked at us for some time. their movements are precisely those of the common cur dog. we have seen five or six this day. we began seeing buffaloes again in small gangs, but this afternoon and evening we have seen a goodly number, probably more than a hundred. we also saw fifteen or twenty antelopes. i saw ten at once, and it was beautiful to see them running from the top of a high hill down to its base, after which they went round the same hill, and were lost to us. we have landed three times to cut wood, and are now busy at it on cedar island.[ ] at both the previous islands we saw an immense number of buffalo tracks, more, indeed, than i had anticipated. the whole of the prairies as well as the hills have been so trampled by them that i should have considered it quite unsafe for a man to travel on horseback. the ground was literally covered with their tracks, and also with bunches of hair, while the bushes and the trunks of the trees, between which they had passed, were hanging with the latter substance. i collected some, and intend to carry a good deal home. we found here an abundance of what is called the white apple,[ ] but which is anything else but an apple. the fruit grows under the ground about six inches; it is about the size of a hen's egg, covered with a woody, hard pellicle, a sixteenth of an inch thick, from which the fruit can be drawn without much difficulty; this is quite white; the exterior is a dirty, dark brown. the roots are woody. the flowers were not in bloom, but i perceived that the leaves are ovate, and attached in fives. this plant is collected in great quantities by the indians at this season and during the whole summer, and put to dry, which renders it as hard as wood; it is then pounded fine, and makes an excellent kind of mush, upon which the indians feed greedily. i will take some home. we found pieces of crystallized gypsum; we saw meadow larks whose songs and single notes are quite different from those of the eastern states; we have not yet been able to kill one to decide if new or not.[ ] we have seen the arkansas flycatcher, sparrow-hawks, geese, etc. the country grows poorer as we ascend; the bluffs exhibit oxide of iron, sulphur, and also magnesia. we have made a good day's run, though the wind blew rather fresh from the northwest. harris shot a marsh hawk, sprague a night-hawk, and some small birds, and i saw martins breeding in woodpeckers' holes in high and large cotton-trees. we passed the "grand town"[ ] very early this morning; i did not see it, however. could we have remained on shore at several places that we passed, we should have made havoc with the buffaloes, no doubt; but we shall have enough of that sport ere long. they all look extremely poor and shabby; we see them sporting among themselves, butting and tearing up the earth, and when at a gallop they throw up the dust behind them. we saw their tracks all along both shores; where they have landed and are unable to get up the steep cliffs, they follow along the margin till they reach a ravine, and then make their way to the hills, and again to the valleys; they also have roads to return to the river to drink. they appear at this season more on the west side of the missouri. the elks, on the contrary, are found on the islands and low bottoms, well covered with timber; the common deer is found indifferently everywhere. all the antelopes we have seen were on the west side. after we had left our first landing-place a few miles, we observed some seven or eight indians looking at us, and again retiring to the woods, as if to cover themselves; when we came nearly opposite them, however, they all came to the shore, and made signs to induce us to land. the boat did not stop for their pleasure, and after we had fairly passed them they began firing at us, not with blank cartridges, but with well-directed rifle-balls, several of which struck the "omega" in different places. i was standing at that moment by one of the chimneys, and saw a ball strike the water a few feet beyond our bows; and michaux, the hunter, heard its passing within a few inches of his head. a scotchman, who was asleep below, was awakened and greatly frightened by hearing a ball pass through the partition, cutting the lower part of his pantaloons, and deadening itself against a trunk. fortunately no one was hurt. those rascals were attached to a war party, and belong to the santee tribes which range across the country from the mississippi to the missouri. i will make no comment upon their conduct, but i have two of the balls that struck our boat; it seems to be a wonder that not one person was injured, standing on deck as we were to the number of a hundred or more. we have not seen parrakeets or squirrels for several days; partridges have also deserted us, as well as rabbits; we have seen barn swallows, but no more rough-winged. we have yet plenty of red-headed woodpeckers. our captain has just sent out four hunters this evening, who are to hunt early to-morrow morning, and will meet the boat some distance above; squires has gone with them. how i wish i were twenty-five years younger! i should like such a tramp greatly; but i do not think it prudent now for me to sleep on the ground when i can help it, while it is so damp. _may , tuesday._ the wind blew from the south this morning and rather stiffly. we rose early, and walked about this famous cedar island, where we stopped to cut large red cedars [_juniperus virginianus_] for one and a half hours; we started at half-past five, breakfasted rather before six, and were on the lookout for our hunters. _hunters!_ only two of them had ever been on a buffalo hunt before. one was lost almost in sight of the river. they only walked two or three miles, and camped. poor squires' first experience was a very rough one; for, although they made a good fire at first, it never was tended afterwards, and his pillow was formed of a buck's horn accidentally picked up near the place. our sioux indian helped himself to another, and they all felt chilly and damp. they had forgotten to take any spirits with them, and their condition was miserable. as the orb of day rose as red as blood, the party started, each taking a different direction. but the wind was unfavorable; it blew up, not down the river, and the buffaloes, wolves, antelopes, and indeed every animal possessed of the sense of smell, had scent of them in time to avoid them. there happened however to be attached to this party two good and true men, that may be called hunters. one was michaux; the other a friend of his, whose name i do not know. it happened, by hook or by crook, that these two managed to kill four buffaloes; but one of them was drowned, as it took to the river after being shot. only a few pieces from a young bull, and its tongue, were brought on board, most of the men being too lazy, or too far off, to cut out even the tongues of the others; and thus it is that thousands multiplied by thousands of buffaloes are murdered in senseless play, and their enormous carcasses are suffered to be the prey of the wolf, the raven and the buzzard. however, the hunters all returned safely to the boat, and we took them in, some tired enough, among whom was friend squires. he had worn out his moccasins, and his feet were sore, blistered, and swollen; he was thirsty enough too, for in taking a drink he had gone to a beautiful clear spring that unfortunately proved to be one of magnesia, which is common enough in this part of our country, and this much increased his thirst. he drank four tumblers of water first, then a glass of grog, ate somewhat of a breakfast, and went to bed, whence i called him a few minutes before dinner. however, he saw some buffaloes, and had hopes of shooting one, also about twenty antelopes. michaux saw two very large white wolves. at the place where we decided to take the fatigued party in, we stopped to cut down a few dead cedars, and harris shot a common rabbit and one lark finch. bell and sprague saw several meadow-larks, which i trust will prove new, as these birds have quite different notes and songs from those of our eastern birds. they brought a curious cactus, some handsome well-scented dwarf peas, and several other plants unknown to me. on the island i found abundance of dwarf wild-cherry bushes in full blossom, and we have placed all these plants in press. we had the misfortune to get aground whilst at dinner, and are now fast till to-morrow morning; for all our efforts to get the boat off, and they have been many, have proved ineffectual. it is a bad spot, for we are nearly halfway from either shore. i continued my long letter for home, and wrote the greatest portion of another long one to john bachman. i intend to write till a late hour this night, as perchance we may reach fort pierre early next week. _may ,_[ ] _wednesday._ we remained on the said bar till four this afternoon. the wind blew hard all day. a boat from fort pierre containing two men passed us, bound for fort vermilion; one of them was mr. charity, one of the company's associate traders. the boat was somewhat of a curiosity, being built in the form of a scow; but instead of being made of wood, had only a frame, covered with buffalo skins with the hair on. they had been nine days coming miles, detained every day, more or less, by indians. mr. charity gave me some leather prepared for moccasins--for a consideration, of course. we have seen buffaloes, etc., but the most important animal to us was one of townsend's hare.[ ] we shot four meadow-larks [_sturnella neglecta_] that have, as i said, other songs and notes than ours, but could not establish them as new. we procured a red-shafted woodpecker, two sparrow-hawks, two arkansas flycatchers, a blue grosbeak, saw say's flycatcher, etc. i went on shore with harris's small double-barrelled gun, and the first shot i had was pretty near killing me; the cone blew off, and passed so near my ear that i was stunned, and fell down as if shot, and afterwards i was obliged to lie down for several minutes. i returned on board, glad indeed that the accident was no greater. we passed this afternoon bluffs of sulphur, almost pure to look at, and a patch that has burnt for two years in succession. alum was found strewn on the shores. a toad was brought, supposed to be new by harris and bell. we landed for the night on an island so thick with underbrush that it was no easy matter to walk through; perhaps a hundred buffalo calves were dead in it, and the smell was not pleasant, as you may imagine. the boat of mr. charity went off when we reached the shore, after having escaped from the bar. we have seen more white wolves this day, and few antelopes. the whole country is trodden down by the heavy buffaloes, and this renders the walking both fatiguing and somewhat dangerous. the garlic of this country has a red blossom, otherwise it looks much like ours; when buffalo have fed for some time on this rank weed, their flesh cannot be eaten. [illustration: facsimile of a page of the missouri river journal. reduced one third.] _may , thursday._ the weather looked cloudy, and promised much rain when we rose this morning at five o'clock; our men kept busy cutting and bringing wood until six, when the "omega" got under way. it began raining very soon afterwards and it has continued to this present moment. the dampness brought on a chilliness that made us have fires in each of the great cabins. michaux brought me two specimens of _neotoma floridana_, so young that their eyes were not open. the nest was found in the hollow of a tree cut down for firewood. two or three miles above us, we saw three mackinaw barges on the shore, just such as i have described before; all these belonged to the (so-called) opposition company of c. bolton, fox, livingstone & co., of new york, and therefore we passed them without stopping; but we had to follow their example a few hundred yards above them, for we had to stop also; and then some of the men came on board, to see and talk to their old acquaintances among our extraordinary and motley crew of trappers and _engagés_. on the roofs of the barges lay much buffalo meat, and on the island we left this morning probably some hundreds of these poor animals, mostly young calves, were found dead at every few steps; and since then we have passed many dead as well as many groups of living. in one place we saw a large gang swimming across the river; they fortunately reached a bank through which they cut their way towards the hills, and marched slowly and steadily on, paying no attention to our boat, as this was far to the lee of them. at another place on the west bank, we saw eight or ten, or perhaps more, antelopes or deer of some kind or other, but could not decide whether they were the one or the other. these animals were all lying down, which would be contrary to the general habit of our common deer, which never lie down during rain, that i am aware of. we have had an extremely dull day of it, as one could hardly venture out of the cabin for pleasure. we met with several difficulties among sand-bars. at three o'clock we passed the entrance into the stream known as white river;[ ] half an hour ago we were obliged to land, and send the yawl to try for the channel, but we are now again on our way, and have still the hope of reaching great cedar island[ ] this evening, where we must stop to cut wood.--_later._ our attempt to reach the island i fear will prove abortive, as we are once more at a standstill for want of deeper water, and the yawl has again gone ahead to feel for a channel. within the last mile or so, we must have passed upwards of a hundred drowned young buffalo calves, and many large ones. i will await the moment when we must make fast somewhere, as it is now past eight o'clock. the rain has ceased, and the weather has the appearance of a better day to-morrow, overhead at least. now it is after nine o'clock; we are fastened to the shore, and i will, for the first time since i left st. louis, sleep in my cabin, and between sheets. _may , friday._ the weather was fine, but we moved extremely slowly, not having made more than ten miles by twelve o'clock. the captain arranged all his papers for fort pierre. three of the best walkers, well acquainted with the road, were picked from among our singularly mixed crew of _engagés_, and were put ashore at big bend creek, on the banks of a high cliff on the western side; they ascended through a ravine, and soon were out of sight. we had stopped previously to cut wood, where our men had to lug it fully a quarter of a mile. we ourselves landed of course, but found the prairie so completely trodden by buffaloes that it was next to impossible to walk. notwithstanding this, however, a few birds were procured. the boat continued on with much difficulty, being often stopped for the want of water. at one place we counted over a hundred dead buffalo calves; we saw a great number, however, that did reach the top of the bank, and proceeded to feeding at once. we saw one animal, quite alone, wading and swimming alternately, till it had nearly crossed the river, when for reasons unknown to us, and when only about fifty yards from the land, it suddenly turned about, and swam and waded back to the western side, whence it had originally come; this fellow moved through the water as represented in this very imperfect sketch, which i have placed here, and with his tail forming nearly half a circle by its erection during the time he swam. it was mired on several occasions while passing from one shoal or sand-bar to another. it walked, trotted, or galloped, while on the solid beach, and ultimately, by swimming a few hundred yards, returned to the side from whence it had started, though fully half a mile below the exact spot. there now was heard on board some talk about the _great bend_, and the captain asked me whether i would like to go off and camp, and await his arrival on the other side to-morrow. i assured him that nothing would give us more pleasure, and he gave us three stout young men to go with us to carry our blankets, provisions, etc., and to act as guides and hunters. all was ready by about five of the afternoon, when harris, bell, sprague, and i, as well as the three men, were put ashore; and off we went at a brisk walk across a beautiful, level prairie, whereon in sundry directions we could see small groups of buffaloes, grazing at leisure. proceeding along, we saw a great number of cactus, some bartram sandpipers, and a long-billed curlew. presently we observed a village of prairie marmots, _arctomys [cynomys] ludovicianus_, and two or three of our party diverged at once to pay them their respects. the mounds which i passed were very low indeed; the holes were opened, but i saw not one of the owners. harris, bell, and michaux, i believe, shot at some of them, but killed none, and we proceeded on, being somewhat anxious to pitch our camp for the night before dark. presently we reached the hills and were surprised at their composition; the surface looked as if closely covered with small broken particles of coal, whilst the soil was of such greasy or soapy nature, that it was both painful and fatiguing to ascend them. our guides assured us that such places were never in any other condition, or as they expressed it, were "never dry." whilst travelling about these remarkable hills, sprague saw one of townsend's hare, and we started the first and only prairie hen we have seen since our departure from st. louis. gradually we rose on to the very uppermost crest of the hills we had to cross, and whilst reposing ourselves for some minutes we had the gratification of seeing around us one of the great panoramas this remarkable portion of our country affords. there was a vast extent of country beneath and around us. westward rose the famous medicine hill, and in the opposite direction were the wanderings of the missouri for many miles, and from the distance we were then from it, the river appeared as if a small, very circuitous streamlet. the great bend was all in full view, and its course almost resembled that of a chemist's retort, being formed somewhat like the scratch of my pen thus:-- [illustration] the walk from our landing crossing the prairies was quite four miles, whilst the distance by water is computed to be twenty-six. from the pinnacle we stood on, we could see the movements of our boat quite well, and whilst the men were employed cutting wood for her engines, we could almost count every stroke of their axes, though fully two miles distant, as the crow flies. as we advanced we soon found ourselves on the ridges leading us across the bend, and plainly saw that we were descending towards the missouri once more. _chemin faisant_, we saw four black-tailed deer, a shot at which michaux or bell, who were in advance, might perhaps have had, had not harris and sprague taken a route across the declivity before them, and being observed by these keen-sighted animals, the whole made off at once. i had no fair opportunity of witnessing their movements; but they looked swiftness itself, combined with grace. they were not followed, and we reached the river at a spot which evidently had been previously camped on by indians; here we made our minds up to stop at once, and arrange for the night, which now promised to be none of the fairest. one man remained with us to prepare the camp, whilst michaux and the others started in search of game, as if blood-hounds. meantime we lighted a large and glowing fire, and began preparing some supper. in less than half an hour michaux was seen to return with a load on his back, which proved to be a fine young buck of the black-tailed deer. this produced animation at once. i examined it carefully, and harris and sprague returned promptly from the point to which they had gone. the darkness of the night, contrasting with the vivid glare of our fire, which threw a bright light on the skinning of the deer, and was reflected on the trunks and branches of the cottonwood trees, six of them in one clump, almost arising from the same root, gave such superb effect that i retired some few steps to enjoy the truly fine picture. some were arranging their rough couches, whilst others were engaged in carrying wood to support our fire through the night; some brought water from the great, muddy stream, and others were busily at work sharpening long sticks for skewers, from which large pieces of venison were soon seen dropping their rich juices upon the brightest of embers. the very sight of this sharpened our appetites, and it must have been laughable to see how all of us fell to, and ate of this first-killed black-tailed deer. after a hearty meal we went to sleep, one and all, under the protection of god, and not much afraid of indians, of whom we have not seen a specimen since we had the pleasure of being fired on by the santees. we slept very well for a while, till it began to sprinkle rain; but it was only a very slight shower, and i did not even attempt to shelter myself from it. our fires were mended several times by one or another of the party, and the short night passed on, refreshing us all as only men can be refreshed by sleep under the sky, breathing the purest of air, and happy as only a clear conscience can make one. [illustration: view on the missouri river, above great bend. from a water-color drawing by isaac sprague.] _may , saturday._ at half-past three this morning my ears were saluted by the delightful song of the red thrush, who kept on with his strains until we were all up. harris and bell went off, and as soon as the two hunters had cleaned their rifles they followed. i remained in camp with sprague for a while; the best portions of the deer, _i. e._, the liver, kidneys, and tongue, were cooked for breakfast, which all enjoyed. no wolves had disturbed our slumbers, and we now started in search of quadrupeds, birds, and adventures. we found several plants, all new to me, and which are now in press. all the ravines which we inspected were well covered by cedars of the red variety, and whilst ascending several of the hills we found them in many parts partially gliding down as if by the sudden effects of very heavy rain. we saw two very beautiful avocets [_recurvirostra americana_] feeding opposite our camp; we saw also a hawk nearly resembling what is called cooper's hawk, but having a white rump. bell joined the hunters and saw some thousands of buffalo; and finding a very large bull within some thirty yards of them, they put in his body three large balls. the poor beast went off, however, and is now, in all probability, dead. many fossil remains have been found on the hills about us, but we saw none. these hills are composed of limestone rocks, covered with much shale. harris thinks this is a different formation from that of either st. louis or belle vue--but, alas! we are not much of geologists. we shot only one of say's flycatcher, and the finch we have called _emberiza pallida_,[ ] but of which i am by no means certain, for want of more exact descriptions than those of a mere synopsis. our boat made its appearance at two o'clock; we had observed from the hill-tops that it had been aground twice. at three our camp was broken up, our effects removed, our fire left burning, and our boat having landed for us, and for cutting cedar trees, we got on board, highly pleased with our camping out, especially as we found all well on board. we had not proceeded very far when the difficulties of navigation increased so much that we grounded several times, and presently saw a few indians on the shore; our yawl was out sounding for a passage amid the many sand-bars in view; the indians fired, not balls, but a salute, to call us ashore. we neared shore, and talked to them; for, they proving to be sioux, and our captain being a good scholar in that tongue, there was no difficulty in so doing. he told them to follow us, and that he would come-to. they ran to their horses on the prairie, all of which stood still, and were good-looking, comparatively speaking, leaped on their backs without saddles or stirrups, and followed us with ease at a walk. they fired a second salute as we landed; there were only four of them, and they are all at this moment on board. they are fine-looking fellows; the captain introduced harris and me to the chief, and we shook hands all round. they are a poor set of beggars after all. the captain gave them supper, sugar and coffee, and about one pound of gunpowder, and the chief coolly said: "what is the use of powder, without balls?" it is quite surprising that these indians did not see us last night, for i have no doubt our fire could have been seen up and down the river for nearly twenty miles. but we are told their lodges are ten miles inland, and that may answer the question. i shall not be sorry now to go to bed. our camp of the _six trees_ is deserted and silent. the captain is almost afraid he may be forced to leave half his cargo somewhere near this, and proceed to fort pierre, now distant fifty miles, and return for the goods. the indians saw nothing of the three men who were sent yesterday to announce our approach to fort pierre. _sunday, may ._ this morning was beautiful, though cool. our visiting indians left us at twelve last night, and i was glad enough to be rid of these beggars by trade. both shores were dotted by groups of buffaloes as far as the eye could reach, and although many were near the banks they kept on feeding quietly till we nearly approached them; those at the distance of half a mile never ceased their avocations. a gray wolf was seen swimming across our bows, and some dozens of shots were sent at the beast, which made it open its mouth and raise its head, but it never stopped swimming away from us, as fast as possible; after a while it reached a sand-bar, and immediately afterwards first trotted, and then galloped off. three buffaloes also crossed ahead of us, but at some distance; they all reached the shore, and scrambled up the bank. we have run better this morning than for three or four days, and if fortunate enough may reach fort pierre sometime to-morrow. the prairies appear better now, the grass looks green, and probably the poor buffaloes will soon regain their flesh. we have seen more than , this morning up to this moment--twelve o'clock. we reached fort george[ ] at about three this afternoon. this is what is called the "station of the opposition line;" some indians and a few lodges are on the edge of the prairie. sundry bales of buffalo robes were brought on board, and major hamilton, who is now acting indian agent here until the return of major crisp, came on board also. i knew his father thirty-five years ago. he pointed out to us the cabin on the opposite shore,[ ] where a partner of the "opposition line" shot at and killed two white men and wounded two others, all of whom were remarkable miscreants. we are about thirty miles below fort pierre. indians were seen on both sides the river, ready to trade both here and at fort pierre, where i am told there are five hundred lodges standing. the indian dogs which i saw here so very closely resemble wild wolves, that i feel assured that if i was to meet with one of them in the woods, i should most assuredly kill it as such. a few minutes after leaving fort george, we stopped to sound the channel, and could not discover more than three and a half feet of water; our captain told us we would proceed no farther this day, but would camp here. bell, harris, and sprague went off with guns; squires and i walked to fort george, and soon met a young englishman going towards our boat on a "buffalo horse" at a swift gallop; but on being hailed he reined up. his name was illingsworth; he is the present manager of this establishment. he welcomed us, and as he was going to see captain sire, we proceeded on. upon reaching the camp we found a strongly built log cabin, in one end of which we met mr. cutting, who told me he had known victor [audubon] in cuba. this young gentleman had been thrown from his horse in a recent buffalo chase, and had injured one foot so that he could not walk. a buffalo cow had hooked the horse and thrown the rider about twenty feet, although the animal had not been wounded. we also met here a mr. taylor, who showed me the petrified head of a beaver, which he supposed to be that of a wolf; but i showed him the difference in the form at once. i saw two young wolves about six weeks old, of the common kind, alive. they looked well, but their nature was already pretty apparently that of the parents. i saw an abundance of semi-wolf dogs, and their howlings were distressing to my ear. we entered the lodge of a trader attached to our company, a german, who is a clever man, has considerable knowledge of botany, and draws well. there were about fifteen lodges, and we saw a greater number of squaws and half-breed children than i had expected. but as every clerk and agent belonging to the companies has "a wife," as it is _called_, a spurious population soon exhibits itself around the wigwams. i will not comment upon this here. we returned before dark to our boat, and i am off to bed. _monday, may ._ i was up early, and as soon as breakfast was over, major hamilton and myself walked to fort george. we found the three gentlemen to whom i showed the plate of quadrupeds, and afterwards i went to their store to see skins of wolves and of the swift fox. i found a tolerably good fox skin which was at once given me; i saw what i was assured were two distinct varieties (for i cannot call them species) of wolves. both, however, considering the difference in size, were old and young of the same variety. they both had the top of the back dark gray, and the sides, belly, legs, and tail, nearly white. when i have these two sorts in the flesh, i may derive further knowledge. i looked at the indian dogs again with much attention, and was assured that there is much cross breeding between these dogs and wolves, and that all the varieties actually come from the same root. harris now joined us, and found he had met a brother of mr. cutting in europe. the gentlemen from the fort came back to the boat with us; we gave them a luncheon, and later a good substantial dinner, the like of which, so they told us, they had not eaten for many a day. mr. illingsworth told us much about buffaloes; he says the hunting is usually more or less dangerous. the porcupine is found hereabouts and feeds on the leaves and bark as elsewhere, but not unfrequently retires into the crevices of rocks, whenever no trees of large size are to be found in its vicinity. elks, at times, assemble in groups of from fifty to two hundred, and their movements are as regular as those of a flock of white pelicans, so that if the oldest elk starts in any one direction, all the rest follow at once in his tracks. where he stops, they all stop, and at times all will suddenly pause, range themselves as if a company of dragoons, ready to charge upon the enemy; which, however, they seldom if ever attempt. after dinner mr. illingsworth told me he would go and shoot a buffalo calf for me--we will see. bell, harris, squires, and myself went off to shoot some prairie-dogs, as the _arctomys ludovicianus_ is called. after walking over the hills for about one mile, we came to the "village," and soon after heard their cries but not their barkings. the sound they make is simply a "chip, chip, chip," long and shrill enough, and at every cry the animal jerks its tail, without however erecting it upright, as i have seen them represented. their holes are not perpendicular, but oblique, at an angle of about forty degrees, after which they seem to deviate; but whether sideways or upwards, i cannot yet say. i shot at two of them, which appeared to me to be standing, not across their holes, but in front of them. the first one i never saw after the shot; the second i found dying at the entrance of the burrow, but at my appearance it worked backwards. i drew my ramrod and put the end in its mouth; this it bit hard but kept working backwards, and notwithstanding my efforts, was soon out of sight and touch. bell saw two enter the same hole, and harris three. bell saw some standing quite erect and leaping in the air to see and watch our movements. i found, by lying down within twenty or thirty steps of the hole, that they reappeared in fifteen or twenty minutes. this was the case with me when i shot at the two i have mentioned. harris saw one that, after coming out of its hole, gave a long and somewhat whistling note, which he thinks was one of invitation to its neighbors, as several came out in a few moments. i have great doubts whether their cries are issued at the appearance of danger or not. i am of opinion that they are a mode of recognition as well as of amusement. i also think they feed more at night than in the day. on my return to the boat, i rounded a small hill and started a prairie wolf within a few steps of me. i was unfortunately loaded with no. shot. i pulled one trigger and then the other, but the rascal went off as if unhurt for nearly a hundred yards, when he stopped, shook himself rather violently, and i saw i had hit him; but he ran off again at a very swift rate, his tail down, stopped again, and again shook himself as before, after which he ran out of my sight between the hills. buffalo cows at this season associate together, with their calves, but if pursued, leave the latter to save themselves. the hides at present are not worth saving, and the indians as well as the white hunters, when they shoot a buffalo, tear off the hide, cut out the better portions of the flesh, as well as the tongue, and leave the carcass to the wolves and ravens. by the way, bell saw a magpie this day, and harris killed two black-headed grosbeaks. bell also saw several evening grosbeaks to-day; therefore there's not much need of crossing the rocky mountains for the few precious birds that the talented and truth-speaking mr. ---- brought or sent to the well-paying academy of natural sciences of philadelphia! the two men sent to fort pierre a few days ago have returned, one this evening, in a canoe, the other this afternoon, by land. _may , tuesday._ we had a fine morning, and indeed a very fair day. i was called up long before five to receive a buffalo calf, and the head of another, which mr. illingsworth had the goodness to send me. sprague has been busy ever since breakfast drawing one of the heads, the size of nature. the other entire calf has been skinned, and will be in strong pickle before i go to bed. mr. illingsworth killed two calves, one bull, and one cow. the calves, though not more than about two months old, as soon as the mother was wounded, rushed towards the horse or the man who had struck her. the one bull skinned was so nearly putrid, though so freshly killed, that its carcass was thrown overboard. this gentleman, as well as many others, assured us that the hunting of buffaloes, for persons unaccustomed to it, was very risky indeed; and said no one should attempt it unless well initiated, even though he may be a first-rate rider. when calves are caught alive, by placing your hands over the eyes and blowing into the nostrils, in the course of a few minutes they will follow the man who performs this simple operation. indeed if a cow perchance leaves her calf behind during a time of danger, or in the chase, the calf will often await the approach of man and follow him as soon as the operation mentioned is over. mr. illingsworth paid us a short visit, and told us that mr. cutting was writing to his post near fort union to expect us, and to afford us all possible assistance. we made a start at seven, and after laboring over the infernal sand-bars until nearly four this afternoon, we passed them, actually cutting our own channel with the assistance of the wheel. whilst we were at this, we were suddenly boarded by the yawl of the "trapper," containing mr. picotte, mr. chardon, and several others. they had left fort pierre this morning, and had come down in one hour and a half. we were all duly presented to the whole group, and i gave to each of these gentlemen the letters i had for them. i found them very kind and affable. they dined after us, being somewhat late, but ate heartily and drank the same. they brought a first-rate hunter with them, of whom i expect to have much to say hereafter. mr. picotte promised me the largest pair of elk horns ever seen in this country, as well as several other curiosities, all of which i will write about when i have them. we have reached antelope river,[ ] a very small creek on the west side. we saw two wolves crossing the river, and harris shot a lark finch. we have now no difficulties before us, and hope to reach fort pierre very early to-morrow morning. _fort pierre,_[ ] _may , wednesday._ after many difficulties we reached this place at four o'clock this afternoon, having spent the whole previous part of the day, say since half-past three this morning, in coming against the innumerable bars--only _nine miles_! i forgot to say last evening, that where we landed for the night our captain caught a fine specimen of _neotoma floridana_, a female. we were forced to come-to about a quarter of a mile above fort pierre, after having passed the steamer "trapper" of our company. bell, squires, and myself walked to the fort as soon as possible, and found mr. picotte and mr. chardon there. more kindness from strangers i have seldom received. i was presented with the largest pair of elk horns i ever saw, and also a skin of the animal itself, most beautifully prepared, which i hope to give to my beloved wife. i was also presented with two pairs of moccasins, an indian riding-whip, one collar of grizzly bear's claws, and two long strings of dried white apples, as well as two indian dresses. i bought the skin of a fine young grizzly bear, two wolf skins, and a parcel of fossil remains. i saw twelve young buffalo calves, caught a few weeks ago, and yet as wild, apparently, as ever. sprague will take outlines of them to-morrow morning, and i shall draw them. we have put ashore about one-half of our cargo and left fifty of our _engagés_, so that we shall be able to go much faster, in less water than we have hitherto drawn. we are all engaged in finishing our correspondence, the whole of the letters being about to be forwarded to st. louis by the steamer "trapper." i have a letter of seven pages to w. g. bakewell, james hall, j. w. h. page, and thomas m. brewer,[ ] of boston, besides those to my family. we are about one and a half miles above the teton river, or, as it is now called, the little missouri,[ ] a swift and tortuous stream that finds its source about miles from its union with this great river, in what are called the bad lands of teton river, where it seems, from what we hear, that the country has been at one period greatly convulsed, and is filled with fossil remains. i saw the young elk belonging to our captain, looking exceedingly shabby, but with the most beautiful eyes i ever beheld in any animal of the deer kind. we have shot nothing to-day. i have heard all the notes of the meadow lark found here and they are utterly different from those of our common species. and now that i am pretty well fatigued with writing letters and this journal, i will go to rest, though i have matter enough in my poor head to write a book. we expect to proceed onwards some time to-morrow. _june , thursday._ i was up at half-past three, and by four sprague and i walked to the fort, for the purpose of taking sketches of young buffalo calves. these young beasts grunt precisely like a hog, and i would defy any person not seeing the animals to tell one sound from the other. the calves were not out of the stable, and while waiting i measured the elk horns given me by mr. picotte. they are as follows: length, feet ½ inches; breadth to ½ inches; circumference at the skull inches, round the knob inches; between the knobs inches. this animal, one of the largest ever seen in this country, was killed in november last. from seventeen to twenty-one poles are necessary to put up a lodge, and the poles when the lodge is up are six or seven feet above the top. the holes at the bottom, all round, suffice to indicate the number of these wanted to tighten the lodge. in time sprague made several outline sketches of calves, and i drew what i wished. we had breakfast very early, and i ate some good bread and fresh butter. mr. picotte presented me with two pipe-stems this morning, quite short, but handsome. at eleven we were on our way, and having crossed the river, came alongside of the "trapper," of which mr. john durack takes the command to st. louis. the name of our own captain is joseph a. sire. mr. picotte gave me a letter for fort union, as mr. culbertson will not be there when we arrive. one of captain sire's daughters and her husband are going up with us. she soled three pairs of moccasins for me, as skilfully as an indian. bell and harris shot several rare birds. mr. bowie promised to save for me all the curiosities he could procure; he came on board and saw the plates of quadrupeds, and i gave him an almanac, which he much desired. after we had all returned on board, i was somewhat surprised that sprague asked me to let him return with the "omega" to st. louis. of course i told him that he was at liberty to do so, though it will keep me grinding about double as much as i expected. had he said the same at new york, i could have had any number of young and good artists, who would have leaped for joy at the very idea of accompanying such an expedition. never mind, however. we have run well this afternoon, for we left fort pierre at two o'clock, and we are now more than twenty-five miles above it. we had a rascally indian on board, who hid himself for the purpose of murdering mr. chardon; the latter gave him a thrashing last year for thieving, and indians never forget such things--he had sworn vengeance, and that was enough. mr. chardon discovered him below, armed with a knife; he talked to him pretty freely, and then came up to ask the captain to put the fellow ashore. this request was granted, and he and his bundle were dropped overboard, where the water was waist deep; the fellow scrambled out, and we heard, afterward, made out to return to fort pierre. i had a long talk with sprague, who thought i was displeased with him--a thing that never came into my head--and in all probability he will remain with us. harris shot a pair of arkansas flycatchers, and squires procured several plants, new to us all. harris wrote a few lines to mr. sarpy at st. louis, and i have had the pleasure to send the elk horns, and the great balls from the stomachs of buffalo given me by our good captain. i am extremely fatigued, for we have been up since before daylight. _at o'clock of the night._ i have got up to scribble this, which it is not strange that after all i saw this day, at this curious place, i should have forgotten. mr. picotte took me to the storehouse where the skins procured are kept, and showed me eight or ten packages of white hare skins, which i feel assured are all of townsend's hare of friend bachman, as no other species are to be met with in this neighborhood during the winter months, when these animals migrate southward, both in search of food and of a milder climate. _june , friday._ we made an extremely early start about three a. m. the morning was beautiful and calm. we passed cheyenne river at half-past seven, and took wood a few miles above it. saw two white pelicans, shot a few birds. my hunter, alexis bombarde, whom i have engaged, could not go shooting last night on account of the crossing of this river, the cheyenne, which is quite a large stream. mr. chardon gave me full control of alexis, till we reach the yellowstone. he is a first-rate hunter, and powerfully built; he wears his hair long about his head and shoulders, as i was wont to do; but being a half-breed, his does not curl as mine did. whilst we are engaged cutting wood again, many of the men have gone after a buffalo, shot from the boat. we have seen more wolves this day than ever previously. we saw where carcasses of buffaloes had been quite devoured by these animals, and the diversity of their colors and of their size is more wonderful than all that can be said of them. alexis bombarde, whom hereafter i shall simply call _alexis_, says that with a small-bored rifle common size, good shot will kill any wolf at sixty or eighty yards' distance, as well as bullets. we passed one wolf that, crossing our bows, went under the wheel and yet escaped, though several shots were fired at it. i had a specimen of _arvicola pennsylvanicus_[ ] brought to me, and i was glad to find this species so very far from new york. these animals in confinement eat each other up, the strongest one remaining, often maimed and covered with blood. this i have seen, and i was glad to have it corroborated by bell. we are told the buffalo cows are generally best to eat in the month of july; the young bulls are, however, tough at this season. our men have just returned with the whole of the buffalo except its head; it is a young bull, and may prove good. when they reached it, it was standing, and alexis shot at it twice, to despatch it as soon as possible. it was skinned and cut up in a very few minutes, and the whole of the flesh was brought on board. i am now astonished at the poverty of the bluffs which we pass; no more of the beautiful limestone formations that we saw below. instead of those, we now run along banks of poor and crumbling clay, dry and hard now, but after a rain soft and soapy. most of the cedars in the ravines, formerly fine and thrifty, are now, generally speaking, dead and dried up. whether this may be the effect of the transitions of the weather or not, i cannot pretend to assert. we have seen more wolves to-day than on any previous occasions. we have made a good day's work of it also, for i dare say that when we stop for the night, we shall have travelled sixty miles. the water is rising somewhat, but not to hurt our progress. we have seen young gadwall ducks, and a pair of geese that had young ones swimming out of our sight. _june , saturday._ alexis went off last night at eleven o'clock, walked about fifteen miles, and returned at ten this morning; he brought three prairie dogs, or, as i call them, prairie marmots. the wind blew violently till we had run several miles; at one period we were near stopping. we have had many difficulties with the sand-bars, having six or seven times taken the wrong channel, and then having to drop back and try our luck again. the three marmots had been killed with shot quite too large, and not one of them was fit for drawing, or even skinning. sprague and i have taken measurements of all their parts, which i give at once. [_here follow forty-two measurements, all external, of the male and female._] i received no further intelligence about the habits of this species, except that they are quite numerous in every direction. we passed four rivers to-day; the little chayenne,[ ] the moroe, the grand, and the rampart. the moroe is a handsome stream and, i am told, has been formerly a good one for beaver. it is navigable for barges for a considerable distance. just before dinner we stopped to cut drift-wood on a sand-bar, and a wolf was seen upon it. bell, harris, and some one else went after it. the wily rascal cut across the bar and, hiding itself under the bank, ran round the point, and again stopped. but bell had returned towards the very spot, and the fellow was seen swimming off, when bell pulled the trigger and shot it dead, in or near the head. the captain sent the yawl after it, and it was brought on board. it was tied round the neck and dipped in the river to wash it. it smelled very strong, but i was heartily glad to have it in my power to examine it closely, and to be enabled to take very many measurements of this the first wolf we have actually procured. it was a male, but rather poor; its general color a grayish yellow; its measurements are as follows [_omitted_]. we saw one goose with a gosling, several coots, grebes, blue herons, doves, magpies, red-shafted woodpeckers, etc. on a sand-bar bell counted ten wolves feeding on some carcass. we also saw three young whelps. this morning we saw a large number of black-headed gulls feeding on a dead buffalo with some ravens; the gulls probably were feeding on the worms, or other insects about the carcass. we saw four elks, and a large gang of buffaloes. one wolf was seen crossing the river towards our boat; being fired at, it wheeled round, but turned towards us again, again wheeled round, and returned to where it had started. we ran this evening till our wood was exhausted, and i do not know how we will manage to-morrow. good-night. god bless you all. [illustration: indian hatchet-pipe. carried by audubon during many of his journeys.] footnotes: [ ] see episode "great pine swamp." [ ] the celebrated taxidermist. born sparkhill, new york, july , , died at the same place, october, . [ ] j. t. bowen, lithographer of the quad. of n.a. [ ] samuel g. morton, the eminent craniologist. [ ] described and figured under this name by aud. and bach., quad. n. am. i., , p. , pl. . this is the commonest pocket gopher of the mississippi basin, now known as _geomys bursarius_.--e. c. [ ] aud. and bach., quad. n. am. ii., , p. , pl. . the plate has three figures. this is the fox squirrel with white nose and ears, now commonly called _sciurus niger_, after linnæus, , as based on catesby's black squirrel. _s. capistratus_ is bosc's name, bestowed in .--e. c. [ ] the _engagés_ of the south and southwest corresponded to the _coureurs de bois_, of whom irving says, in his "astoria," p. : "originally men who had accompanied the indians in their hunting expeditions, and made themselves acquainted with remote tracts and tribes.... many became so accustomed to the indian mode of living that they lost all relish for civilization, and identified themselves with the savages among whom they dwelt.... they may be said to have sprung up out of the fur trade." [ ] one of the oldest settlements in missouri, on the left bank of the river, still known by the same name, and giving name to st. charles county, mo. it was once called petite côte, from the range of small hills at the foot of which it is situated. when lewis and clark were here, in may, , the town had nearly small wooden houses, including a chapel, and a population of about , chiefly of canadian french origin. see "lewis and clark," coues' ed., , p. .--e. c. [ ] the species which audubon described and figured as new under the name of _pelecanus americanus_: ornith. biogr. iv., , p. , pl. ; birds of amer. vii., , p. , pl. . this is _p. erythrorhynchus_ of gmelin, , and _p. trachyrhynchus_ of latham, .--e. c. [ ] no other species of marmot than the common woodchuck, _arctomys monax_, is known to occur in this locality.--e. c. [ ] the actual distance of jefferson city above the mouth of the river is given on the missouri river commission map as - / miles. the name of the place was once missouriopolis.--e. c. [ ] turkey-buzzards (_cathartes aura_) and bald eagles (_haliæëtus leucocephalus_).--e. c. [ ] what cormorants these were is somewhat uncertain, as more than one species answering to the indications given may be found in this locality. probably they were _phalacrocorax dilophus floridanus_, first described and figured by audubon as the florida cormorant, _p. floridanus_: orn. biog. iii., , p. , pl. ; b. of amer. vi., , p. , pl. . the alternative identification in this case is _p. mexicanus_ of brandt.--e. c. [ ] in present cooper county, mo., near the mouth of mine river. it was named for the celebrated daniel boone, who owned an extensive grant of land in this vicinity. booneville followed upon the earlier settlement at boone's lick, or boone's salt works, and in consisted of eight houses. according to the missouri river commission charts, the distance from the mouth of the missouri river is miles.--e. c. [ ] say, in long's exped. i., , p. , described from what is now kansas. this is the well-known western fox squirrel, _s. ludovicianus_ of custis, in barton's med. and phys. journ. ii., , p. . it has been repeatedly described and figured under other names, as follows: _s. subauratus_, aud. and bach. ii., , p. , pl. ; _s. rubicaudatus_, aud. and bach. ii., , p. , pl. ; _s. auduboni_, bach. p.z.s. , p. (dusky variety); aud. and bach. iii., , p. , pl. , fig. ; _s. occidentalis_, aud. and bach., journ. philada. acad. viii., , p. (dusky variety); _s. sayii_, aud. and bach. ii., , p. , pl. . the last is ostensibly based on the species described by say, whose name _macroura_ was preoccupied for a ceylonese species. the western fox squirrel has also been called _s. rufiventer_ and _s. magnicaudatus_, both of which names appear in harlan's fauna americana, , p. and p. .--e. c. [ ] audubon underscores "city" as a bit of satire, glasgow being at that time a mere village or hamlet.--e. c. [ ] this is the stream then as now known as grand river, which at its mouth separates chariton from carroll county, mo. here is the site of brunswick, or new brunswick, which audubon presently mentions.--e. c. [ ] from the french "mulots," field-mice. [ ] p. j. de smet, the jesuit priest, well known for his missionary labors among various tribes of indians in the rocky mountains, on the columbia river, and in other parts of the west. his work entitled "oregon missions and travels over the rocky mountains in - " was published in new york by edward dunigan in . on p. this book will be found mention of the journey father de smet was taking in , when met by audubon.--e. c. [ ] captain clark of the u.s.a. [ ] the distance of independence from the mouth of the missouri is about miles by the commission charts. in this town was still, as it long had been, the principal point of departure from the river on the santa fé caravan route. trains starting hence went through westport, mo., and so on into the "indian territory."--e. c. [ ] this is the bird which audubon first discovered in labrador, in , and named _fringilla lincolnii_ in honor of his young companion, thomas lincoln. it is described and figured under that name in orn. biogr. ii., , p. , pl. , and as _peucæa lincolnii_ in b. of am. iii., , p. , pl. , but is now known as _melospiza lincolni_. it ranges throughout the greater part of north america.--e. c. [ ] apparently the very first intimation we have of the beautiful finch which audubon dedicated to mr. harris as _fringilla harrisii_, as will be seen further on in his journal. the other birds mentioned in the above text were all well-known species in .--e. c. [ ] black snake hills (in the vicinity of st. joseph, mo.). "on the th we saw the chain of the blacksnake hills, but we met with so many obstacles in the river that we did not reach them till towards evening. they are moderate eminences, with many singular forms, with an alternation of open green and wooded spots." (maximilian, prince of wied, "travels in north america," p. .) [ ] the measurements in pen and ink are marked over the writing of the journal. as already stated, this bird is _fringilla harrisii_: aud. b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. . it had previously been discovered by mr. thomas nuttall, who ascended the missouri with mr. j. k. townsend in , and named by him _f. querula_ in his man. orn. d ed. i., , p. . its modern technical name is _zonotrichia querula_, though it continues to bear the english designation of harris's finch.--e. c. [ ] that is, the green-backed or white-bellied swallow, _hirundo bicolor_ of vieillot, _tachycineta bicolor_ of cabanis, and _iridoprocne bicolor_ of coues.--e. c. [ ] the surmise proved to be correct; for this is the now well-known bell's vireo, _vireo bellii_ of audubon: b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. .--e. c. [ ] no doubt the species named brewer's blackbird, _quiscalus brewerii_ of audubon, b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. , now known as _scolecophagus cyanocephalus_.--e. c. [ ] the prairie hare, _lepus virginianus_ of richardson, fauna boreali-americana, i., , p. , later described as _l. campestris_ by bachman, journ. philad. acad. vii., , p. , and then described and figured as _l. townsendii_ by aud. and bach., quad. n.a. i., , p. , pl. . this is the characteristic species of the great plains, where it is commonly called "jack-rabbit."--e. c. [ ] not a good species, but the dusky variety of the protean western fox squirrel, _sciurus ludovicianus_; for which, see a previous note.--e. c. [ ] or bellevue, in what is now sarpy county, neb., on the right bank of the missouri, a few miles above the mouth of the platte.--e. c. [ ] vicinity of present omaha, neb., and council bluffs, ia., but somewhat above these places. the present council bluffs, in iowa, is considerably below the position of the original council bluff of lewis and clark, which audubon presently notices. see "lewis and clark," ed. of , p. .--e. c. [ ] the journals of captain joseph a. sire, from to , are extant, and at present in the possession of captain joseph la barge, who has permitted them to be examined by captain chittenden. the latter informs us of an interesting entry at date of may , , regarding the incident of the military inspection of the "omega" for contraband liquor, of which audubon speaks. but the inside history of how cleverly captain sire outwitted the military does not appear from the following innocent passage: "_mercredi, may_. nous venons trés bien jusqu'aux côtes à hart, où, à sept heures, nous sommes sommés par un officier de dragons de mettre à terre. je reçois une note polie du capt. burgwin m'informant que son devoir l'oblige de faire visiter le bateau. aussitôt nous nous mettons à l'ouvrage, et pendant ce temps m. audubon va faire une visite au capitaine. ils reviennent ensemble deux heures après. je force en quelque sorte l'officier à faire une recherche aussi stricte que possible, mais à la condition qu'il en fera de même avec les autres traiteurs." the two precious hours of audubon's visit were utilized by the clever captain in so arranging the cargo that no liquor should be found on board by captain burgwin.--e. c. [ ] john henry k. burgwin, cadet at west point in ; in a captain of the st dragoons. he died feb. , , of wounds received three days before in the assault on pueblo de taos, new mexico.--e. c. [ ] the question of the specific identity of the american and european magpies has been much discussed. ornithologists now generally compromise the case by considering our bird to be subspecifically distinct, under the name of _pica pica hudsonica_.--e. c. [ ] no doubt thomas c. madison of virginia, appointed assist. surg. u.s.a., feb. , . he served as a surgeon of the confederacy during our civil war, and died nov. , .--e. c. [ ] council bluff, so named by lewis and clark on aug. , , on which day they and their followers, with a number of indians, including six chiefs, held a council here, to make terms with the ottoe and missouri indians. the account of the meeting ends thus: "the incident just related induced us to give to this place the name of the council-bluff; the situation of it is exceedingly favorable for a fort and trading factory, as the soil is well calculated for bricks, there is an abundance of wood in the neighborhood, and the air is pure and healthy." in a foot-note dr. coues says: "it was later the site of fort calhoun, in the present washington co., neb. we must also remember, in attempting to fix this spot, how much the missouri has altered its course since ." ("expedition of lewis and clark," , p. .) [ ] this wolf is to be distinguished from the prairie wolf, _canis latrans_, which audubon has already mentioned. it is the common large wolf of north america, of which audubon has much to say in the sequel; and wherever he speaks of "wolves" without specification, we are to understand that this is the animal meant. it occurs in several different color-variations, from quite blackish through different reddish and brindled grayish shades to nearly white. the variety above mentioned is that named by dr. richardson _griseo-albus_, commonly known in the west as the buffalo wolf and the timber wolf. mr. thomas say named one of the dark varieties _canis nubilus_ in ; and naturalists who consider the american wolf to be specifically distinct from _canis lupus_ of europe now generally name the brindled variety _c. nubilus griseo-albus_.--e. c. [ ] little sioux river of present geography, in harrison co., iowa: see "lewis and clark," ed. of , p. .--e. c. [ ] otherwise known as the mule deer, from the great size of the ears, and the peculiar shape of the tail, which is white with a black tuft at the tip, and suggests that of the mule. it is a fine large species, next to the elk or wapiti in stature, and first became generally known from the expedition of lewis and clark. it is the _cervus macrotis_ of say, figured and described under this name by aud. and bach. quad. n.a. ii., , p. , pl. , and commonly called by later naturalists _cariacus macrotis_. but its first scientific designation is _damelaphus hemionus_, given by c. s. rafinesque in .--e. c. [ ] wood's bluff has long ceased to be known by this name, but there is no doubt from what audubon next says of blackbird hill, that the bluff in question is that on the west or right bank of the river, at and near decatur, burt co., neb.; the line between burt and blackbird counties cuts through the bluff, leaving most of it in the latter county. see lewis and clark, ed. of , p. , date of aug. , , where "a cliff of yellow stone on the left" is mentioned. this is wood's bluff; the situation is miles up the river by the commission charts.--e. c. [ ] blackbird hill. "aug. [ ].... we halted on the south side for the purpose of examining a spot where one of the great chiefs of the mahas [omahas], named blackbird, who died about four years ago, of the smallpox, was buried. a hill of yellow soft sandstone rises from the river in bluffs of various heights, till it ends in a knoll about feet above the water; on the top of this a mound, of twelve feet diameter at the base, and six feet high, is raised over the body of the deceased king, a pole about eight feet high is fixed in the centre, on which we placed a white flag, bordered with red, blue, and white. blackbird seems to have been a person of great consideration, for ever since his death he has been supplied with provisions, from time to time, by the superstitious regard of the mahas." ("expedition of lewis and clark," by elliott coues, , p. .) "the th of may ( ) we reached the chain of hills on the left bank; ... these are called wood's hills, and do not extend very far. on one of them we saw a small conical mound, which is the grave of the celebrated omaha chief washinga-sabba (the blackbird). in james' 'narrative of major long's expedition,' is a circumstantial account of this remarkable and powerful chief, who was a friend to the white man; he contrived, by means of arsenic, to make himself feared and dreaded, and passed for a magician.... an epidemical smallpox carried him off, with a great part of his nation, in , and he was buried, sitting upright, upon a live mule, at the top of a green hill on wakonda creek. when dying he gave orders they should bury him on that hill, with his face turned to the country of the whites." ("travels in north america," maximilian, prince of wied.) irving, in chap. xvi. of "astoria," gives a long account of blackbird, based on bradbury and brackenridge, but places his death in , incorrectly; and ends: "the missouri washes the base of the promontory, and after winding and doubling in many links and mazes, returns to within nine hundred yards of its starting-place; so that for thirty miles the voyager finds himself continually near to this singular promontory, as if spell bound. it was the dying command of blackbird, that his tomb should be on the summit of this hill, in which he should be interred, seated on his favorite horse, that he might overlook his ancient domain, and behold the backs of the white men as they came up the river to trade with his people." [ ] "aug. th, . here we had the misfortune to lose one of our sergeants, charles floyd.... he was buried on the top of the bluff with the honors due to a brave soldier; the place of his interment was marked by a cedar post, on which his name and the day of his death were inscribed." ("expedition of lewis and clark," by elliott coues, p. .) "on the following day [may , ] we came to floyd's grave, where the sergeant of that name was buried by lewis and clark. the bank on either side is low. the left is covered with poplars; on the right, behind the wood, rises a hill like the roof of a building, at the top of which floyd is buried. a short stick marks the place where he is laid, and has often been renewed by travellers, when the fires in the prairie have destroyed it." ("travels in north america," p. , maximilian, prince of wied.)--m. r. a. floyd's grave became a landmark for many years, and is noticed by most of the travellers who have written of voyaging on the missouri. in the river washed away the face of the bluff to such an extent that the remains were exposed. these were gathered and reburied about yards further back on the same bluff. this new grave became obliterated in the course of time, but in it was rediscovered after careful search. the bones were exhumed by a committee of citizens of sioux city; and on aug. of that year, the st anniversary of floyd's death, were reburied in the same spot with imposing ceremonies, attended by a concourse of several hundred persons. a large flat stone slab, with suitable inscription, now marks the spot, and the floyd memorial association, which was formed at the time of the third burial, proposes to erect a monument to floyd in a park to be established on the bluff.--e. c. [ ] which separates iowa from south dakota. here the missouri ceases to separate nebraska from iowa, and begins to separate nebraska from south dakota. audubon is therefore at the point where these three states come together. he is also just on the edge of sioux city, iowa, which extends along the left bank of the missouri from the vicinity of floyd's bluff to the big sioux river.--e. c. [ ] this is captain joseph la barge, the oldest living pilot on the missouri, and probably now the sole survivor of the "omega" voyage of . he was born oct. , , of french parentage, his father having come to st. louis, mo., from canada, and his mother from lower louisiana. the family has been identified with the navigation of the western rivers from the beginning of the century, and in there were seven licensed pilots of that name in the port of st. louis. captain joseph la barge still lives in st. louis, at the age of eighty-two, and has a vivid recollection of audubon's voyage of , some incidents of which he has kindly communicated through captain h. m. chittenden, u.s. army. [ ] vermilion is still the name of this river, and also of the town at its mouth which has replaced old fort vermilion, and is now the seat of clay county, south dakota. on the opposite side of the missouri is dixon co., nebraska. the stream was once known as whitestone river, as given in "lewis and clark."--e. c. [ ] as audubon thus gently chides the extravagant statements of george catlin, the well-known painter and panegyrist of the indian, it may be well to state here that his own account of the putridity of drowned buffalo which the indians eat with relish is not in the least exaggerated. mr. alexander henry, the fur-trader of the north west company, while at the mandans in , noticed the same thing that audubon narrates, and described it in similar terms. [ ] "the puncas, as they are now universally called, or as some travellers formerly called them, poncaras, or poncars, the pons of the french, were originally a branch of the omahas, and speak nearly the same language. they have, however, long been separated from them, and dwell on both sides of running-water river (l'eau qui court) and on punca creek, which lewis and clark call poncara. they are said to have been brave warriors, but have been greatly reduced by war and the small-pox. according to dr. morse's report, they numbered in , in all; at present the total number is estimated at about ." ("travels in north america," maximilian, prince of wied, p. .) "poncar, poncha, ponca or ponka, punka, puncah, etc. 'the remnant of a nation once respectable in point of numbers. they formerly [before ] resided on a branch of the red river of lake winnipie; being oppressed by the sioux, they removed to the west side of the missouri on poncar river ... and now reside with the mahas, whose language they speak." ("lewis and clark," p. , ed. .) [ ] wm. laidlaw was a member of the columbia fur company at the time of its absorption by the western department of the american fur company, his service with the latter being mainly at fort pierre. with the exception, perhaps, of kenneth mckenzie, also of the columbia fur company, laidlaw was the ablest of the upper missouri traders. [ ] this is andrew dripps, one of the early traders, long associated with lucien fontenelle, under the firm name of fontenelle and dripps, in the rocky mountain fur trade. in later years he was appointed indian agent, and was serving in that capacity during the "omega" voyage of .--e. c. [ ] this is the largest river which enters the missouri thus far above big sioux river, coming from the north through south dakota. the origin of the name, as given by audubon, is known to few persons. _jacques_ is french for "james," and the stream has oftener been known as james river. another of its names was yankton river, derived from that of a tribe of the sioux. but it is now usually called dakota river, and will be found by this name on most modern maps.--e. c. [ ] it is not difficult to identify these five streams, though only one of them is of considerable size. see "lewis and clark," ed. of , pp. - . st. "manuel" river is plum creek of lewis and clark, falling into the missouri at springfield, bonhomme co., s.d. it is wananri river of nicollet and of warren; to be found on the general land office maps as emanuel creek, named for manuel da lisa, a noted trader on the missouri in early days. d. "basil" river is white paint creek of lewis and clark, falling in on the nebraska side, a little below the mouth of the niobrara, at the th mile point of the missouri. the modern name is variously spelled bazile, basille, bozzie, etc. d. l'eau qui court is of course the well-known niobrara river. th. ponca river falls in a mile or two above the niobrara, on the same side of the missouri. th. chouteau creek is present name of the stream next above, on the other side of the missouri, at the th mile point.--e. c. [ ] l'eau qui court river has been called rapid river, spreading water, running water, and quicourt. "this river rises in the black hills, near the sources of tongue river, and discharges itself into the missouri about , miles from its mouth. the mouth is said to be paces broad, and its current very rapid. there are said to be hot springs in this neighborhood, such as are known to exist in several places on the banks of the missouri." ("travels in north america," maximilian, prince of wied, p. .) [ ] "'cedar' is the name which has been applied by various authors to several different islands, many miles apart, in this portion of the river.... we reached an island extending for two miles in the middle of the river, covered with red cedar, from which it derives its name of cedar island." ("lewis and clark," ed. of .) "cedar island is said to be miles from the mouth of the missouri. on the steep banks of this long, narrow island which lies near the southwest bank, there were thickets of poplars, willows, and buffalo-berry; the rest of the island is covered with a dark forest of red cedars, of which we immediately felled a goodly number. the notes of numerous birds were heard in the gloom of the cedar forest, into which no ray of sun could penetrate. here, too, we found everywhere traces of the elks and stags, and saw where they had rubbed off the bark with their antlers." ("travels in north america," maximilian, prince of wied, p. .) [ ] translating the usual french name (_pomme blanche_) of the _psoralea esculenta_. [ ] this is audubon's first mention of the western meadow lark, which he afterward decided to be a distinct species and named _sturnella neglecta_, b. of am. vii., , p. , pl. . it is interesting to find him noting the difference in the song from that of the eastern species before he had had an opportunity of examining the bird itself.--e. c. [ ] "grand town" is perhaps the large prairie-dog village which once covered several acres on the right bank of the missouri, in the vicinity of the butte known as the dome, or tower, between yankton and fort randall.--e. c. [ ] may is the date given by audubon, b. amer. viii., p. , as that on which mr. bell shot the specimen which became type of _emberiza le conteii_, figured on plate . this bird is now _ammodramus_ (_coturniculus_) _lecontei_; it long remained an extreme rarity.--e. c. [ ] the common prairie hare, _lepus campestris_, for which see a previous note.--e. c. [ ] la rivière blanche of the french, also sometimes called white earth river, and mankizitah river; a considerable stream which falls into the right bank of the missouri in lyman co., south dakota, at the mile point of the commission charts.--e. c. [ ] so called from its size, in distinction from the cedar island already mentioned on p. . this is second cedar island of warren's and nicollet's maps, noticed by lewis and clark, sept. , , as "nearly a mile in length and covered with red cedar." it was once the site of an establishment called fort recovery. the position is near the th-mile point of the missouri.--e. c. [ ] audubon probably refers to the brief description in his own synopsis of , p. , a copy of which no doubt accompanied him up the missouri. he had described and figured what he supposed to be _emberiza pallida_ in the orn. biogr. v., , p. , pl. , fig. ; b. amer. iii., , p. , pl. , from specimens taken in the rocky mts. by j. k. townsend, june , . but this bird was not the true _pallida_ of swainson, being that afterwards called _spizella breweri_ by cassin, pr. acad. philad., , p. . the true _pallida_ of swainson is what audubon described as _emberiza shattuckii_, b. amer. vii., , p. , pl. , naming it for dr. geo. c. shattuck, of boston, one of his labrador companions. he speaks of it as "abundant throughout the country bordering the upper missouri;" and all mention in the present journal of the "clay-colored bunting," or "_emberiza pallida_," refers to what audubon later named shattuck's bunting--not to what he gives as _emberiza pallida_ in the orn. biog. and synopsis of ; for the latter is _spizella breweri_.--e. c. [ ] situated on the right bank of the missouri, in presho co., south dakota. see "lewis and clark," ed. of , p. .--e. c. [ ] this "cabin on the opposite shore" was somewhere in the vicinity of rousseau, at or near the mouth of present little medicine creek (formerly east medicine knoll river, originally named reuben's creek by lewis and clark, after reuben fields, one of their men).--e. c. [ ] or antelope creek, then as now the name of the small stream which falls into the missouri on the right bank, about miles below the mouth of the teton. it has also been known as cabri creek, katota tokah, and high-water creek, the latter being the designation originally bestowed by lewis and clark, sept. , . it runs in presho co., s. dak.--e. c. [ ] the _old_ fort of this name was three miles above the mouth of the teton river; this was abandoned, and another fort built, higher up, on the west bank of the missouri. the prince of wied reached this fort on the fifty-first day of his voyage up the missouri, and audubon on the thirty-third of his; a gain in time which may possibly be attributed both to better weather and to the improvement in steamboats during ten years. the prince says: "fort pierre is one of the most considerable settlements of the fur company on the missouri, and forms a large quadrangle surrounded by pickets. seven thousand buffalo skins and other furs were put on board our boat to take to st. louis.... the leather tents of the sioux indians, the most distinguished being that of the old interpreter, dorion (or durion), a half sioux, who is mentioned by many travellers, and resides here with his indian family. his tent was large, and painted red; at the top of the poles composing the frame, several scalps hung." ("travels in north america," p. , maximilian, prince of wied.) [ ] w. g. bakewell was audubon's brother-in-law; james hall, brother of mrs. john w. audubon; j. w. h. page, of new bedford. thomas mayo brewer, who became a noted ornithologist, edited the mo edition of wilson, wrote part i. of the "oölogy of north america," which was published by the smithsonian institution in , and was one of the authors of baird, brewer, and ridgway's "history of north american birds." he died in boston jan. , , having been born there nov. , . he is notorious for his mistaken zeal in introducing the english sparrow in this country.--e. c. [ ] the teton, or bad river, has long ceased to be known as the little missouri,--a name now applied to another branch of the missouri, which falls in from the south much higher up, about miles above present fort berthold. teton river was so named by lewis and clark, sept. , , from the tribe of sioux found at its mouth: see the history of the expedition, ed. of , p. , and compare p. . the indian name was chicha, schicha, or shisha.--e. c. [ ] wilson's meadow mouse. this is the name used by aud. and bach. quad. n. am. i., , p. , pl. , for the _arvicola riparius_ of ord, now known as _microtus riparius_. but the specimen brought to audubon can only be very doubtfully referred to this species.--e. c. [ ] this is spelt thus in the journal, and also on tanner's map of : see also lewis and clark, ed. of , p. . the "moroe" river of the above text is present moreau river, falling into the missouri from the west in dewey co., s. dak. grand river was also known by its arikara name, weterhoo, or wetarhoo. rampart river is about two miles above grand river; it was also called maropa river.--e. c. transcriber's notes: italic text is denoted by _underscores_. small caps replaced with all caps. * * * * * by enos a. mills your national parks. illustrated. the story of scotch. illustrated. the rocky mountain wonderland. illustrated. the story of a thousand-year pine. illustrated. in beaver world. illustrated. the spell of the rockies. illustrated. wild life on the rockies. illustrated. houghton mifflin company boston and new york the story of scotch [illustration: scotch and his master] the story of scotch. by enos a. mills _with illustrations from photographs by the author_ boston and new york houghton mifflin company _the riverside press cambridge_ copyright, , and , by enos a. mills all rights reserved _published september _ to mary king sherman and john king sherman who knew and appreciated scotch preface scotch and i were companions through eight years. winter and summer we explored the rugged mountains of the continental divide. often we were cold; more often we were hungry. together we fought our way through blizzards and forest fires. never did he complain and at all times he showed remarkable intelligence and absolute fidelity. the thousands who have watched him play football by my cabin on the slope of long's peak and the other thousands who have read of his unusual experiences will be interested, i am sure, in this complete story of his life. i gave an account of scotch in my _wild life on the rockies_, and in _the spell of the rockies_ i related one of our winter experiences. these chapters and an article on him which i wrote for _country life in america_ are, together with additional matter, embodied in this little book. illustrations scotch and his master _frontispiece_ his first kennel puppy scotch chipmunks? playing football ready for a walk the mountains in winter scotch on guard at the timber-line cabin scotch near timber-line the story of scotch i a famous collie and her five little puppies came into the possession of a swedish farmer of my acquaintance. for an unimportant and forgotten kindness which i had shown his children, he decided that i should have one of these promising puppies. to his delight i chose the "wisest one," wee "scotch," who afterwards gave pleasure to hundreds of people and who for eight years was a factor in my life. i carried little scotch all day long in my overcoat pocket as i rode through the mountains on the way to my cabin. his cheerful little face, his good behavior, and the bright way in which he poked his head out of my pocket, licked my hand, and looked at the scenery, completely won my heart before i had ridden an hour. we camped for the night by a dim road near a deserted ranch-house in the mountains. scotch was quiet during the long ride, but while i was lighting the camp-fire he climbed out of my overcoat and proceeded, puppy fashion, to explore the camp. after one bark at my pony he went over to make her acquaintance. he playfully smelled of each of her feet, gave a happy bark, and jumped up to touch her nose with his own. cricket, the pony, intently watched his performance with lowered head and finally nosed him in a friendly manner. i shut him up in a small abandoned cabin for the night. he at once objected and set up a terrible barking and howling, gnawing fiercely at the crack beneath the door and trying to tear his way out. fearing he would break his little puppy teeth, or possibly die from frantic and persistent efforts to be free, i concluded to release him from the cabin. my fears that he would run away if left free were groundless. he made his way to my saddle, which lay on the ground near by, crawled under it, turned round beneath it, thrust his little head from beneath the arch of the horn, and lay down with a look of contentment, and also with an air which said: "i'll take care of this saddle. i'd like to see any one touch it." and watch it he did. at midnight a cowboy came to my camp-fire. he had been thrown from his bronco and was making back to his outfit on foot. tiny scotch flew at him ferociously; never have i seen such faithful ferocity in a dog so small and young. i took him in my hands and assured him that the visitor was welcome, and in a moment little scotch and the cowboy were side by side gazing at the fire. on our arrival at my cabin he at once took possession of an old tub in a corner of the porch. this he liked, and it remained his kennel for a long time. here, protected from wind and rain, he was comfortable even in cold weather. [illustration: his first kennel] we were intimate from the start, and we lived most of the time apart from the world. i watched his development with satisfaction. he grew rapidly in size, strength, comprehension, and accomplishments. he was watchful and fearless through life. his first experience with the unfriendly side of life came from a burro. a prospector came by with one of these long-eared beasts. confiding scotch went out to play with the burro and was kicked. thenceforward he looked upon all burros with distrust, and every one that came near the cabin promptly and precipitously retreated before him like a boy before an aggressive bumblebee. the summer that scotch was growing up, i raised johnny, a jolly young grizzly bear. at first the smaller, johnny early became the larger. both these youngsters were keenly alert, playful, and inclined to be friendly. each, however, was a trifle suspicious of the other. unfortunately, i was away during the period in which a complete understanding between them could have been established and, as a result, there never came about the intimate companionship that really should have existed between these two highly developed animals; but their relations, though ever peculiar, were never strained. at times both had the freedom of the yard at once, and naturally they sometimes met while going to and fro. on these occasions each passed the other by as though unconscious of his presence. sometimes they lay at close range for an hour at a time, quietly, half-admiringly watching each other. a bone was used as a medium the few times they played together. each in turn guarded this bone while the other tried to take it away. this brought out from both a lively lot of striking, feinting, boxing, dodging, and grabbing, which usually ended in clinching and wrestling. in these vigorous, though good-natured mix-ups, it was johnny's idea to get in a few good bites on scotch's shaggy tail; while on the end of johnny's sensitive nose scotch landed slap after slap. scotch was an old-fashioned collie and had a face that was exceptionally expressive and pleasing. he was short-nosed, and his fine eyes were set wide apart. when grown he was a trifle larger than the average dog, and was surprisingly agile and powerful for his size. his coat was a shaggy, silky black, with feet, tip of tail, and breast of pure white. he was always well dressed and took good care of his coat and feet. daily he immersed himself in the cold waters of the brook, when it was not frozen, and he frequently lay in the water, lapping it and enjoying himself. [illustration: puppy scotch] i never knew of his killing anything, though often in the woods he merrily chased the lively, playful chipmunks. never, however, did he disturb bird or chipmunk in the yard around the cabin. often two or three chipmunks romped over him as he lay, with half-shut eyes, near the door. occasionally a bird hopped upon him, and frequently birds, chipmunks, and scotch ate together from the same bowl. scotch did but little barking. in the country most dogs bow-wow at strangers, and frequently make the night hideous with prolonged barking at far-off sounds or imaginary objects. in summer scotch allowed the scores of daily callers to come and go without a bark, but he reserved the right to announce, with a bark or two, the approach of the semi-occasional stranger who invaded our winter isolation. talking to animals appears to make them gentler and more responsive. scotch never tired of listening to me, and i often talked to him as if he were a child. he came to understand many of the words used. if i said "hatchet," he hastened to bring it; if "fire," he at once endeavored to discover where it was. cheerfully and intelligently he endeavored to help me, and early became efficient in driving cattle, horses, and burros. instinctively he was a "heeler," and with swift heel nips quickly awakened and gave directions to lazy or unwilling "critters." ii many of scotch's actions were beyond the scope of instinct. one day, when still young, he mastered a new situation by the use of his wits. while he was alone at the house, some frightened cattle smashed a fence about a quarter of a mile away and broke into the pasture. he was after them in an instant. from a mountain-side ledge above, i watched proceedings with a glass. the cattle were evidently excited by the smell of some animal and did not drive well. scotch ignored the two pasture gates, which were closed, and endeavored to hurry the cattle out through the break through which they had entered. after energetic encouragement, all but one went flying out through the break. this one alternated between stupidly running back and forth along the fence and trying to gore scotch. twice the animal had run into a corner by one of the gates, and his starting for the corner the third time apparently gave scotch an idea. he stopped heeling, raced for the gate, and, leaping up, bit at the handle of the sliding wooden bar that secured it. he repeated this biting and tearing at the handle until the bar slid and the gate swung open. after chasing the animal through, he lay down by the gate. [illustration: chipmunks?] when i came into view he attracted my attention with sharp barks and showed great delight when i closed the gate. after this, he led me to the break in the fence and then lay down. though i looked at him and asked, "what do you want done here?" he pretended not to hear. that was none of his business! he had much more individuality than most dogs. his reserve force and initiative usually enabled him to find a way and succeed with situations which could not be mastered in his old way. the gate-opening was one of the many incidents in which these traits brought triumph. one of his most remarkable achievements was the mastering of a number of cunning coyotes which were persistent in annoying him and willing to make an opportunity to kill him. in a sunny place close to the cabin, the coyotes one autumn frequently collected for a howling concert. this irritated scotch, and he generally chased the howlers into the woods. now and then he lay down on their yelping-grounds to prevent their prompt return. after a time these wily little wolves adopted tantalizing tactics, and one day, while scotch was chasing the pack, a lame coyote made a détour and came behind him. in the shelter of a willow-clump the coyote broke out in a maddening babel of yelps and howls. scotch instantly turned back to suppress him. while he was thus busy, the entire pack doubled back into the open and taunted scotch with attitude and howls. twice did the pack repeat these annoying, defying tactics. this serious situation put scotch on his mettle. one night he went down the mountain to a ranch-house fifteen miles away. for the first time he was gone all night. the next morning i was astonished to find another collie in scotch's bed. scotch was in a state of worried suspense until i welcomed the stranger; then he was most gleeful. this move on his part told plainly that he was planning something still more startling. indeed he was, but never did i suspect what this move was to be. that day, at the first howl of the coyotes, i rushed out to see if the visiting collie would assist scotch. there were the coyotes in groups of two and three, yelping, howling, and watching. both dogs were missing, but presently they came into view, cautiously approaching the coyotes from behind a screen of bushes. suddenly the visiting collie dashed out upon them. at the same instant scotch leaped into a willow-clump and crouched down; it was by this clump that the lame coyote had each time come to howl behind scotch. while the visiting collie was driving the pack, the lame coyote again came out to make his sneaking flank movement. as he rounded the willow-clump scotch leaped upon him. instantly the other dog raced back, and both dogs fell fiercely upon the coyote. though lame, he was powerful, and finally shook the dogs off and escaped to the woods, but he was badly wounded and bleeding freely. the pack fled and came no more to howl near the cabin. at bedtime, when i went out to see the dogs, both were away. their tracks in the road showed that scotch had accompanied the neighboring collie at least part of the way home. on rare occasions scotch was allowed to go with visitors into the woods or up the mountain-side. however, he was allowed to accompany only those who appreciated the companionship and the intelligence of a noble dog or who might need him to show the way home. one day a young woman from michigan came along and wanted to climb long's peak alone and without a guide. i agreed to consent to her wish if she would take scotch with her and would also first climb one of the lesser peaks on a stormy day, unaided. this climbing the young woman did, and by so doing convinced me that she had a keen sense of direction and an abundance of strength, for the day was a stormy one and the peak was completely befogged with clouds. after this there was nothing for me to do but to allow her to climb long's peak. just as she was starting for long's peak that cool september morning, i called scotch and said to him: "scotch, go with this young woman up long's peak. keep her on the trail, take good care of her, and stay with her until she returns!" scotch gave a few barks of satisfaction and started with the young woman up the trail, carrying himself in a manner which indicated that he was both honored and pleased. i felt that the strength and alertness of the young woman, when combined with the faithfulness and watchfulness of scotch, would make the ascent a success, for the dog knew the trail as well as any guide. the young woman climbed swiftly until she reached the rocky alpine moorlands above timber-line. here she lingered long to enjoy the magnificent scenery and the brilliant flowers. it was late in the afternoon when she arrived at the summit of the peak. after she had spent a little time there, resting and absorbing the beauty and grandeur of the scene, she started to return. she had not gone far when clouds and darkness came on, and on a slope of slide rock she turned aside from the trail. scotch had minded his own affairs and enjoyed himself in his own way all day long. most of the time he had followed her closely, apparently indifferent to what happened. but the instant the young woman left the trail and started off in the wrong direction, he sprang ahead and took the lead with an alert, aggressive air. the way in which he did this should have suggested to her that he knew what he was about, but she did not appreciate this fact. she thought he had become weary and wanted to run away from her, so she called him back. again she started in the wrong direction. this time scotch got in front of her and refused to move. she pushed him out of the way. once more he started off in the right direction and this time she scolded him and reminded him that his master had told him to stay with her. scotch dropped his ears, fell in behind her, and followed meekly in her steps. he had tried to carry out the first part of his master's orders; now he was resigned to the second part of them. after going a short distance, the young woman realized that she had lost her trail but it never occurred to her that she had only to let scotch have his way and he would lead her safely home. however, she had the good sense to stop where she was. and there, among the crags, by the stained remnants of winter's snow, thirteen thousand feet above sea-level, she knew she must pass the night. the wind blew a gale and the alpine brooklet turned to ice, while, in the lee of a crag, shivering with cold and hugging scotch tight, she lay down to wait for daylight. when darkness had come that evening and the young woman had not returned, i sent a rescue party of four guides up the peak. they suffered much from cold as they vainly searched among the crags through the dark hours of the windy night. just at sunrise one of the guides found her. she was almost exhausted, but was still hugging scotch tightly and only her fingers were frost-bitten. the guide gave her wraps and food and drink, and started with her down the trail. and scotch? oh, as soon as the guide appeared he left her and started home for breakfast. scotch saved this young woman's life by staying with her through the long, cold night. she appreciated the fact, and was quick to admit that if she had allowed the dog to have his own way about the trail she would have had no trouble. iii one summer a family lived in a cabin at the farther side of the big yard. scotch developed a marked fondness for the lady of the house and called on her daily. he was so purposeful about this that from the moment he rose to start there was no mistaking his plans. along the pathway toward the cabin he went, evidently with something definite in his mind. he was going somewhere; there was no stopping, no hurrying, and no turning aside. if the door was open, in he went; if it was closed, he made a scraping stroke across it and with dignified pose waited for it to be opened. inside he was the gentleman. generally he made a quiet tour through all the rooms and then lay down before the fireplace. if any one talked to him, he watched the speaker and listened with pleased attention; if the speaker was animated, scotch now and then gave a low bark of appreciation. usually he stayed about half an hour and then went sedately out. without looking back, he returned deliberately to his own quarters. what an unconscious dignity there was in his make-up! he would not "jump for the gentlemen," nor leap over a stick, nor "roll over." no one ever would have thought of asking him to speak, to say grace, or to sit up on his hind legs for something to eat. all these tricks were foreign to his nature and had no place in his philosophy! though scotch admitted very few to the circle of his intimate friends, he was admired, respected, and loved by thousands. one of these admirers writes of him: "of this little rustic inn, scotch was no less the host than was his master. he welcomed the coming and sped the parting guest. he escorted the climbers to the beginning of the trail up long's peak. he received the returning trout fishermen. he kept the burros on the other side of the brook. he stood between the coyotes and the inhabitants of the chicken yard. he was always ready to play football for the entertainment of the guests after dinner. he was really the busiest person about the inn from morning till night." though apparently matter-of-fact and stolid, he was ever ready for a romp and was one of the most playful dogs. except at odd times, i was the only playmate he ever had. it was a pleasure to watch him or to play with him, for he played with all his might. he took an intense delight in having me kick or toss a football for him. he raced at full speed in pursuing the ball, and upon overtaking it would try to pick it up, but it was too large for him. as soon as i picked it up, he became all alert to race after it or to leap up and intercept it. if the ball was tossed easily to him, he sprang to meet it and usually struck it with the point of his chin and sent it flying back to me; at short range we were sometimes able to send the ball back and forth between us several times without either one moving in his tracks. if the ball was tossed above him, he leaped up to strike it with head, chin, or teeth, trying to make it bound upward; if it went up, he raced to do it over again. occasionally he was clever enough to repeat this many times without allowing the ball to fall to the earth. [illustration: playing football] his enjoyment in make-believe play was as eager and refreshing as that of a child. this kind of play we often enjoyed in the yard. i would pretend to be searching for him, while he, crouching near in plain view, pretended to be hidden. oh, how he enjoyed this! again and again i would approach him from a different direction, and, when within touching distance, call, "where is scotch?" while he, too happy for barks, hugged the earth closely and silently. now and then he took a pose and pretended to be looking at something far away, while all the time his eager eye was upon me. from time to time, with utmost stealth, he took a new hiding-place. with every pretense of trying not to be seen, he sometimes moved from behind to immediately in front of me! silently, though excitedly happy, he played this delightful childish game. it always ended to his liking; i grabbed him with a "hello, there's scotch!" and carried him off on my shoulder. one day a family arrived at a nearby cottage to spend the summer. during the first afternoon of their stay, the toddling baby strayed away. every one turned out to search. with enlarging circles we covered the surrounding country and at last came upon the youngster in the woods about a quarter of a mile from the house. scotch was with him and was lying down with head up, while the baby, asleep, was using him for a pillow, and had one chubby arm thrown across his neck. he saw us approach and lift the baby as if nothing unusual had happened. he never failed to notice my preparations to journey beyond the mountains. never would he watch me start on this kind of a journey, but an hour or so before leaving-time he would go to the side of the house opposite where i started. here he would refuse attention from any one and for a few days would go about sadly. a little in advance of my home-coming, he showed that he expected me. probably he heard my name used by the people in the house. anyway, for two or three days before my arrival, he each evening would go down the road and wait at the place where he had greeted me many times on my return. when i went horseback-riding he was almost passionately happy if allowed to go along. whenever my pony was brought out, he at once stopped everything and lay down near the pony to await my coming. would i go out on the trail with him, or go to the post office and leave him behind? by the time i appeared, these questions had him in a high state of excitement. usually he turned his head away and yawned and yawned; he rose up and sat down, altogether showing a strange combination of bashfulness and impatience; though plainly trying to be quiet, he was restless until my answer came. usually he was able to make out what this was without waiting for any word from me. a hatchet, for example, would tell him i was going to the woods. on the other hand, the mail-bag meant that i was going to the village. this meant that he could not go, whereupon he would go off slowly, lie down, and look the other way. if the answer was "yes," he raced this way and that, leaping up once or twice to touch the pony's nose with his own. during each ride he insisted on a race with the pony; if i chanced to forget this, he never failed to remind me before the ride was over. as a reminder, he would run alongside me and leap as high as possible, then race ahead as swiftly as he could. this he repeated until i accepted his challenge. both dog and pony gleefully enjoyed this and each tried to pass the other. once we were clattering over the last stretch toward home. scotch, who was in the lead, saw our pet chicken crouched in the pony's track, where it was in danger of being crushed. unmindful of his own danger from the pony's hoofs, he swerved, gently caught up the chicken, and lifted it out of danger. after fondling it for a moment, he raced after us at full speed. [illustration: ready for a walk] no matter what the weather, he usually slept outdoors. he understood, however, that he was welcome to come into my cabin day or night, and was a frequent caller. in the cabin he was dignified and never used it as a place of amusement. iv scotch enjoyed being with me, and great times we had together. many of our best days were in the wilds. here he often suffered from hunger, cold, hardships, and sometimes from accident; yet never did he complain. usually he endured the unpleasant things as a matter of course. though very lonely when left by himself, he never allowed this feeling to cause a slighting of duty. on one occasion he was supremely tried but did his duty as he understood it and was faithful under circumstances of loneliness, danger, and possible death. at the close of one of our winter trips, scotch and i started across the continental divide of the rocky mountains in face of weather conditions that indicated a snowstorm or a blizzard before we could gain the other side. we had eaten the last of our food twenty-four hours before, and could no longer wait for fair weather. so off we started to scale the snowy steeps of the cold, gray heights a thousand feet above. the mountains already were deeply snow-covered and it would have been a hard trip even without the discomforts and dangers of a storm. i was on snowshoes, and for a week we had been camping and tramping through the snowy forests and glacier meadows at the source of grand river, two miles above the sea. the primeval rocky mountain forests are just as near to nature's heart in winter as in summer. i had found so much to study and enjoy that the long distance from a food-supply, even when the last mouthful was eaten, had not aroused me to the seriousness of the situation. scotch had not complained, and appeared to have the keenest collie interest in the tracks and trails, the scenes and silences away from the haunts of man. the snow lay seven feet deep, but by keeping in my snowshoe-tracks scotch easily followed me about. our last camp was in the depths of an alpine forest, at an altitude of ten thousand feet. here, though zero weather prevailed, we were easily comfortable beside a fire under the protection of an overhanging cliff. after a walk through woods the sun came blazing in our faces past the snow-piled crags on long's peak, and threw slender blue shadows of the spiry spruces far out in a white glacier meadow to meet us. reëntering the tall but open woods, we saw, down the long aisles and limb-arched avenues, a forest of tree-columns, entangled in sunlight and shadow, standing on a snowy marble floor. we were on the pacific slope, and our plan was to cross the summit by the shortest way between timber-line there and timber-line on the atlantic side. this meant ascending a thousand feet and descending an equal distance, traveling five miles amid bleak, rugged environment. after gaining a thousand feet of altitude through the friendly forest, we climbed out and up above the trees on a steep slope at timber-line. this place, the farthest up for trees, was a picturesque, desolate place. the dwarfed, gnarled, storm-shaped trees amid enormous snow-drifts told of endless, and at times deadly, struggles of the trees with the elements. most of the trees were buried, but here and there a leaning or a storm-distorted one bent bravely above the snows. along the treeless, gradual ascent we started, realizing that the last steep icy climb would be dangerous and defiant. most of the snow had slid from the steeper places, and much of the remainder had blown away. over the unsheltered whole the wind was howling. for a time the sun shone dimly through the wind-driven snow-dust that rolled from the top of the range, but it disappeared early behind wild, wind-swept clouds. at last we were safe on a ridge, and we started merrily off, hoping to cover speedily the three miles of comparatively level plateau. how the wind did blow! up more than eleven thousand feet above the sea, with not a tree to steady or break, it had a royal sweep. the wind appeared to be putting forth its wildest efforts to blow us off the ridge. there being a broad way, i kept well from the edges. the wind came with a dash and a heavy rush, first from one quarter, then from another. i was watchful and faced each rush firmly braced. generally this preparedness saved me; but several times the wind seemed to expand or explode beneath me, and, with an upward toss, i was flung among the icy rocks and crusted snows. finally i took to dropping and lying flat whenever a violent gust came ripping among the crags. there was an arctic barrenness to this alpine ridge,--not a house within miles, no trail, and here no tree could live to soften the sternness of the landscape or to cheer the traveler. the way wound amid snowy piles, icy spaces, and wind-swept crags. [illustration: the mountains in winter scotch on guard at the timber-line cabin] the wind slackened and snow began to fall just as we were leaving the smooth plateau for the broken part of the divide. the next mile of way was badly cut to pieces with deep gorges from both sides of the ridge. the inner ends of several of these broke through the center of the ridge and extended beyond the ends of the gorges from the opposite side. this made the course a series of sharp, short zigzags. we went forward in the flying snow. i could scarcely see, but felt that i could keep the way on the broken ridge between the numerous rents and cañons. on snowy, icy ledges the wind took reckless liberties. i wanted to stop but dared not, for the cold was intense enough to freeze one in a few minutes. fearing that a snow-whirl might separate us, i fastened one end of my light, strong rope to scotch's collar and the other end to my belt. this proved to be fortunate for both, for while we were crossing an icy, though moderate, slope, a gust of wind swept me off my feet and started us sliding. it was not steep, but was so slippery i could not stop, nor see where the slope ended, and i grabbed in vain at the few icy projections. scotch also lost his footing and was sliding and rolling about, and the wind was hurrying us along, when i threw myself flat and dug at the ice with fingers and toes. in the midst of my unsuccessful efforts we were brought to a sudden stop by the rope between us catching over a small rock-point that was thrust up through the ice. around this in every direction was smooth, sloping ice; this, with the high wind, made me wonder for a moment how we were to get safely off the slope. the belt axe proved the means, for with it i reached out as far as i could and chopped a hole in the ice, while with the other hand i clung to the rock-point. then, returning the axe to my belt, i caught hold in the chopped place and pulled myself forward, repeating this until on safe footing. in oncoming darkness and whirling snow i had safely rounded the ends of two gorges and was hurrying forward over a comparatively level stretch, with the wind at my back boosting me along. scotch was running by my side and evidently was trusting me to guard against all dangers. this i tried to do. suddenly, however, there came a fierce dash of wind and whirl of snow that hid everything. instantly i flung myself flat, trying to stop quickly. just as i did this i caught the strange, weird sound made by high wind as it sweeps across a cañon, and at once realized that we were close to a storm-hidden gorge. i stopped against a rock, while scotch slid into the chasm and was hauled back with the rope. the gorge had been encountered between two out-thrusting side gorges, and between these in the darkness i had a cold time feeling my way out. at last i came to a cairn of stones that i recognized. i had missed the way by only a few yards, but this miss had been nearly fatal. not daring to hurry in the darkness in order to get warm, i was becoming colder every moment. i still had a stiff climb between me and the summit, with timber-line three rough miles beyond. to attempt to make it would probably result in freezing or tumbling into a gorge. at last i realized that i must stop and spend the night in a snow-drift. quickly kicking and trampling a trench in a loose drift, i placed my elkskin sleeping-bag therein, thrust scotch into the bag, and then squeezed into it myself. i was almost congealed with cold. my first thought after warming up was to wonder why i had not earlier remembered the bag. two in a bag would guarantee warmth, and with warmth, a snow-drift on the crest of the continent would not be a bad place in which to lodge for the night. the sounds of wind and snow beating upon the bag grew fainter and fainter as we were drifted and piled over with the snow. at the same time our temperature rose, and before long it was necessary to open the flap of the bag slightly for ventilation. at last the sounds of the storm could barely be heard. was the storm quieting down, or was its roar muffled and lost in the deepening cover of snow? was the unimportant question occupying my thoughts when i fell asleep. scotch awakened me in trying to get out of the bag. it was morning. out we crawled, and, standing with only my head above the drift, i found the air still and saw a snowy mountain world all serene in the morning sun. i hastily adjusted sleeping-bag and snowshoes, and we set off for the final climb to the summit. the final hundred feet or so rose steep, jagged, and ice-covered before me. there was nothing to lay hold of; every point of vantage was plated with smooth ice. there appeared only one way to surmount this icy barrier and that was to chop toe- and hand-holes from the bottom to the top of this icy wall, which in places was close to vertical. such a climb would not be especially difficult or dangerous for me, but could scotch do it? he could hardly know how to place his feet in the holes or on the steps properly; nor could he realize that a slip or a misstep would mean a slide and a roll to death. leaving sleeping-bag and snowshoes with scotch, i grasped my axe and chopped my way to the top and then went down and carried bag and snowshoes up. returning for scotch, i started him climbing just ahead of me, so that i could boost and encourage him. we had gained only a few feet when it became plain that sooner or later he would slip and bring disaster to both of us. we stopped and descended to the bottom for a new start. though the wind was again blowing a gale, i determined to carry him. his weight was forty pounds, and he would make a top-heavy load and give the wind a good chance to upset my balance and tip me off the wall. but, as there appeared no other way, i threw him over my shoulder and started up. many times scotch and i had been in ticklish places together, and more than once i had pulled him up rocky cliffs on which he could not find footing. several times i had carried him over gulches on fallen logs that were too slippery for him. he was so trusting and so trained that he relaxed and never moved while in my arms or on my shoulder. arriving at the place least steep, i stopped to transfer scotch from one shoulder to the other. the wind was at its worst; its direction frequently changed and it alternately calmed and then came on like an explosion. for several seconds it had been roaring down the slope; bracing myself to withstand its force from this direction, i was about to move scotch, when it suddenly shifted to one side and came with the force of a breaker. it threw me off my balance and tumbled me heavily against the icy slope. though my head struck solidly, scotch came down beneath me and took most of the shock. instantly we glanced off and began to slide swiftly. fortunately i managed to get two fingers into one of the chopped holes and held fast. i clung to scotch with one arm; we came to a stop, both saved. scotch gave a yelp of pain when he fell beneath me, but he did not move. had he made a jump or attempted to help himself, it is likely that both of us would have gone to the bottom of the slope. gripping scotch with one hand and clinging to the icy hold with the other, i shuffled about until i got my feet into two holes in the icy wall. standing in these and leaning against the ice, with the wind butting and dashing, i attempted the ticklish task of lifting scotch again to my shoulder--and succeeded. a minute later we paused to breathe on the summit's icy ridge, between two oceans and amid seas of snowy peaks. v one cold winter day we were returning from a four days' trip on the continental divide, when, a little above timber-line, i stopped to take some photographs. to do this it was necessary for me to take off my sheepskin mittens, which i placed in my coat pocket, but not securely, as it proved. from time to time, as i climbed to the summit of the divide, i stopped to take photographs, but on the summit the cold pierced my silk gloves and i felt for my mittens, to find that one of them was lost. i stooped, put an arm around scotch and told him that i had lost a mitten and that i wanted him to go down for it to save me the trouble. "it won't take you very long," i said, "but it will be a hard trip for me. go and fetch it to me." instead of starting off quickly and willingly as he had invariably done before in obedience to my commands, he stood still. his eager, alert ears drooped. he did not make a move. i repeated the command in my most kindly tones. at this, instead of starting down the mountain for the mitten, he slunk slowly away toward home. apparently he did not want to climb down the steep, icy slope of a mile to timber-line, more than a thousand feet below. i thought he had misunderstood me, so i called him back, patted him, and then, pointing down the slope, said, "go for the mitten, scotch; i will wait for you here." he started, but went unwillingly. he had always served me so cheerfully that i could not understand his behavior, and it was not until later that i realized how cruelly he had misunderstood. the summit of the continental divide where i stood when i sent scotch back, was a very rough and lonely region. on every hand were broken, snowy peaks and rugged cañons. my cabin, eighteen miles away, was the nearest house, and the region was utterly wild. i waited a reasonable time for scotch to return, but he did not come back. thinking he might have gone by without my seeing him, i walked some distance along the summit, first in one direction and then in the other, but, seeing neither him nor his tracks, i knew that he had not yet returned. as it was late in the afternoon and growing colder, i decided to go slowly on toward my cabin. i started along a route i felt sure he would follow and i reasoned that he would overtake me. darkness came on and still no scotch, but i kept on going forward. for the remainder of the way i told myself that he might have got by me in the darkness. when, at midnight, i arrived at the cabin, i expected to be greeted by him. he was not there. i felt that something was wrong and feared that he had met with an accident. i slept two hours and rose, but he was still missing. i decided to tie on my snowshoes and go to meet him. the thermometer showed fourteen degrees below zero. [illustration: scotch near timber-line] i started at three o'clock in the morning, feeling that i should meet him before going far. i kept on and on and when at noon i arrived at the place on the summit from which i had sent him back, scotch was not there to cheer the wintry, silent scene. slowly i made my way down the slope and at two in the afternoon, twenty-four hours after i had sent scotch down the mountain, i paused on a crag and looked below. there, in a world of white, scotch lay by the mitten in the snow. he had misunderstood me and had gone back to guard the mitten instead of to get it. he could hardly contain himself for joy when we met. he leaped into the air, barked, rolled over, licked my hand, whined, seized the mitten in his mouth, raced round and round me, and did everything that an alert, affectionate, faithful dog could to show that he appreciated my appreciation of his supremely faithful services. after waiting for him to eat a luncheon we started for home, where we arrived at one o'clock in the morning. had i not gone back for scotch, i suppose he would have died beside the mitten. without food or companionship, in a region cold, cheerless, and oppressive, he was watching the mitten because he had understood that i had told him to watch it. in the annals of the dog i do not know of any more touching instance of loyalty. vi through the seasons and through the years scotch and i wandered in the wilds and enjoyed nature together. though we were often wet, hungry, or cold, he never ceased to be cheerful. through the scenes and the silences we went side by side; side by side in the lonely night we gazed into the camp-fire, and in feeling lived strangely through "yesterday's seven thousand years" together. he was only a puppy the first time that he went with me to enjoy the woods. during this trip we came upon an unextinguished camp-fire that was spreading and about to become a forest fire. upon this fire i fell with utmost speed so as to extinguish it before it should enlarge beyond control. my wild stampings, beatings, and hurling of firebrands made a deep impression on puppy scotch. for a time he stood still and watched me, and then he jumped in and tried to help. he bit and clawed at the flames, burned himself, and with deep growlings desperately shook smoking sticks. the day following this incident, as we strolled through the woods, he came upon another smouldering camp-fire and at once called my attention to it with lively barking. i patted him and tried to make him understand that i appreciated what he had done, and then extinguished the fire. through the years, in our wood wanderings, he was alert for fire and prompt to warn me of a discovery. his nose and eye detected many fires that even my trained and watchful senses had missed. one autumn, while watching a forest fire, we became enveloped in smoke and narrowly escaped with our lives. the fire had started in the bottom and was burning upward in the end of a long, wide mountain valley, and giving off volumes of smoke. in trying to obtain a clearer view, and also to avoid the smoke, we descended into a ravine close behind the fire. shortly after our arrival a strong wind drove the wings of the fire outward to right and left, then backward down both sides of the valley, filling the ravine with smoke. this movement of the fire would in a short time have encircled us with flames. i made a dash to avoid this peril, and in running along a rock ledge in the smoke, stumbled into a rocky place and one of my shoes stuck fast. this threw me heavily and badly sprained my left leg. amid thick smoke, falling ashes, and approaching flames, this situation was a serious one. scotch showed the deepest concern by staying close by me and finally by giving a number of strange barks such as i had never before heard. after freeing myself i was unable to walk, and in hopping and creeping along my camera became so annoying that i gave it to scotch; but in the brush the straps became so often entangled that throwing it away proved a relief to us both. meanwhile we were making slow progress through the unburned woods and the fire was roaring close. seeing no hope of getting out of the way, we finally took refuge to the leeward side of a rocky crag where the flames could not reach us. but could we avoid being smothered? already we were dangerously near that and the fire had yet to surge around us. to send scotch for water offered a possible means of escape. slapping my coat upon the rocks two or three times i commanded, "water, scotch, water!" he understood, and with an eager bark seized the coat and vanished in the smoke. he would be compelled to pass through a line of flame in order to reach the water in the ravine, but this he would do or die. after waiting a reasonable time i began to call, "scotch! scotch!" as loudly as my parched throat and gasping permitted. presently he leaped upon me, fearfully burned but with the saturated coat in his teeth. most of his shaggy coat was seared off, one eye was closed, and there was a cruel burn on his left side. hurriedly i bound a coat-sleeve around his head to protect his eyes and nose, then squeezed enough water from the coat to wet my throat. hugging scotch closely, i spread the wet coat over us both and covered my face with a wet handkerchief. with stifling smoke and fiery heat the flames surged around, but at last swept over and left us both alive. without the help from scotch i must have perished. it was this useful fire-fighting habit that caused the death of my faithful scotch. one morning the men started off to do some road work. scotch saw them go and apparently wanted to go with them. i had just returned from a long absence and had to stay in the cabin and write letters. about half an hour after the men had gone, scotch gave a scratching knock at the door. plainly he wanted to follow the men and had come for my consent to go without me. i patted him and urged him to go. he left the cabin, never again to return. scotch arrived at the road work just as the men had lighted and run away from a blast. he saw the smoking fuse and sprang to extinguish it, as the blast exploded. he was instantly killed. the end the riverside press cambridge . massachusetts u . s . a * * * * * transcriber's note page : the word "for" changed to "from": text "any word from me" note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) charles darwin: his life told in an autobiographical chapter, and in a selected series of his published letters. edited by his son, francis darwin, f.r.s. with a portrait. london: john murray, albemarle street. . [illustration: _elliot & fry, photo._ _walker & cockerell, ph. sc._ ch. darwin] printed by william clowes and sons, limited, london and beccles. to dr. holland, st. moritz. _ th july, ._ dear holland, this book is associated in my mind with st. moritz (where i worked at it), and therefore with you. i inscribe your name on it, not only in token of my remembrance of your many acts of friendship, but also as a sign of my respect for one who lives a difficult life well. yours gratefully, francis darwin. "for myself i found that i was fitted for nothing so well as for the study of truth; ... as being gifted by nature with desire to seek, patience to doubt, fondness to meditate, slowness to assert, readiness to reconsider, carefulness to dispose and set in order; and as being a man that neither affects what is new nor admires what is old, and that hates every kind of imposture. so i thought my nature had a kind of familiarity and relationship with truth."--bacon. (proem to the _interpretatio naturæ_.) preface to the first edition ( ). in preparing this volume, which is practically an abbreviation of the _life and letters_ ( ), my aim has been to retain as far as possible the personal parts of those volumes. to render this feasible, large numbers of the more purely scientific letters are omitted, or represented by the citation of a few sentences.[ ] in certain periods of my father's life the scientific and the personal elements run a parallel course, rising and falling together in their degree of interest. thus the writing of the _origin of species_, and its publication, appeal equally to the reader who follows my father's career from interest in the man, and to the naturalist who desires to know something of this turning point in the history of biology. this part of the story has therefore been told with nearly the full amount of available detail. in arranging my material i have followed a roughly chronological sequence, but the character and variety of my father's researches make a strictly chronological order an impossibility. it was his habit to work more or less simultaneously at several subjects. experimental work was often carried on as a refreshment or variety, while books entailing reasoning and the marshalling of large bodies of facts were being written. moreover many of his researches were dropped only to be resumed after years had elapsed. thus a chronological record of his work would be a patchwork, from which it would be difficult to disentangle the history of any given subject. the table of contents will show how i have tried to avoid this result. it will be seen, for instance, that after chapter viii. a break occurs; the story turns back from to in order that the evolutionary chapters which follow may tell a continuous story. in the same way the botanical work which occupied so much of my father's time during the latter part of his life is treated separately in chapters xvi. and xvii. with regard to chapter iv., in which i have attempted to give an account of my father's manner of working, i may be allowed to say that i acted as his assistant during the last eight years of his life, and had therefore an opportunity of knowing something of his habits and methods. my acknowledgments are gladly made to the publishers of the _century magazine_, who have courteously given me the use of one of their illustrations for the heading of chapter iv. francis darwin. wychfield, cambridge, _august, _. footnote: [ ] i have not thought it necessary to indicate all the omissions in the abbreviated letters. note to the second edition. it is pleasure to me to acknowledge the kindness of messrs. elliott & fry in allowing me to reproduce the fine photograph which appears as the frontispiece to the present issue. francis darwin. wychfield, cambridge, _april, _. table of contents. chap. page i.--the darwins ii.--autobiography iii.--religion iv.--reminiscences v.--cambridge life--the appointment to the _beagle_: - vi.--the voyage: - vii.--london and cambridge: - viii.--life at down: - ix.--the foundations of the _origin of species_: - x.--the growth of the _origin of species_: - xi.--the writing of the _origin of species_, june , to november xii.--the publication of the _origin of species_, october to december xiii.--the _origin of species_--reviews and criticisms--adhesions and attacks: xiv.--the spread of evolution: - xv.--miscellanea--revival of geological work--the vivisection question--honours xvi.--the fertilisation of flowers xvii.--climbing plants--power of movement in plants--insectivorous plants--kew index of plant names xviii.--conclusion appendices. appendix i.--the funeral in westminster abbey ii.--portraits index [illustration: --led to comprehend two affinities. [illeg] my theory would give zest to recent & fossil comparative anatomy, it would lead to study of instincts, heredity & mind heredity, whole metaphysics - it would lead to closest examination of hybridity & generation, causes of change in order to know what we have come from & to what we tend - to what circumstances favour crossing & what prevents it; this & direct examination of direct passages of [species (crossed out)] structures in species, might lead to laws of change, which would then be main object of study, to guide our [past (crossed out)] speculations] charles darwin. chapter i. the darwins. charles robert darwin was the second son of dr. robert waring darwin, of shrewsbury, where he was born on february , . dr. darwin was a son of erasmus darwin, sometimes described as a poet, but more deservedly known as physician and naturalist. charles darwin's mother was susannah, daughter of josiah wedgwood, the well-known potter of etruria, in staffordshire. if such speculations are permissible, we may hazard the guess that charles darwin inherited his sweetness of disposition from the wedgwood side, while the character of his genius came rather from the darwin grandfather.[ ] robert waring darwin was a man of well-marked character. he had no pretensions to being a man of science, no tendency to generalise his knowledge, and though a successful physician he was guided more by intuition and everyday observation than by a deep knowledge of his subject. his chief mental characteristics were his keen powers of observation, and his knowledge of men, qualities which led him to "read the characters and even the thoughts of those whom he saw even for a short time." it is not therefore surprising that his help should have been sought, not merely in illness, but in cases of family trouble and sorrow. this was largely the case, and his wise sympathy, no less than his medical skill, obtained for him a strong influence over the lives of a large number of people. he was a man of a quick, vivid temperament, with a lively interest in even the smaller details in the lives of those with whom he came in contact. he was fond of society, and entertained a good deal, and with his large practice and many friends, the life at shrewsbury must have been a stirring and varied one--very different in this respect to the later home of his son at down.[ ] we have a miniature of his wife, susannah, with a remarkably sweet and happy face, bearing some resemblance to the portrait of her father painted by sir joshua reynolds; a countenance expressive of the gentle and sympathetic nature which miss meteyard ascribes to her.[ ] she died july , , thirty-two years before her husband, whose death occurred on november , . dr. darwin lived before his marriage for two or three years on st. john's hill, afterwards at the crescent, where his eldest daughter marianne was born, lastly at the "mount," in the part of shrewsbury known as frankwell, where the other children were born. this house was built by dr. darwin about , it is now in the possession of mr. spencer phillips, and has undergone but little alteration. it is a large, plain, square, red-brick house, of which the most attractive feature is the pretty green-house, opening out of the morning-room. the house is charmingly placed, on the top of a steep bank leading down to the severn. the terraced bank is traversed by a long walk, leading from end to end, still called "the doctor's walk." at one point in this walk grows a spanish chestnut, the branches of which bend back parallel to themselves in a curious manner, and this was charles darwin's favourite tree as a boy, where he and his sister catharine had each their special seat. the doctor took great pleasure in his garden, planting it with ornamental trees and shrubs, and being especially successful with fruit trees; and this love of plants was, i think, the only taste kindred to natural history which he possessed. charles darwin had the strongest feeling of love and respect for his father's memory. his recollection of everything that was connected with him was peculiarly distinct, and he spoke of him frequently, generally prefacing an anecdote with some such phrase as, "my father, who was the wisest man i ever knew," &c. it was astonishing how clearly he remembered his father's opinions, so that he was able to quote some maxim or hint of his in many cases of illness. as a rule he put small faith in doctors, and thus his unlimited belief in dr. darwin's medical instinct and methods of treatment was all the more striking. his reverence for him was boundless, and most touching. he would have wished to judge everything else in the world dispassionately, but anything his father had said was received with almost implicit faith. his daughter, mrs. litchfield, remembers him saying that he hoped none of his sons would ever believe anything because he said it, unless they were themselves convinced of its truth--a feeling in striking contrast with his own manner of faith. a visit which charles darwin made to shrewsbury in left on the mind of the daughter who accompanied him a strong impression of his love for his old home. the tenant of the mount at the time, showed them over the house, and with mistaken hospitality remained with the party during the whole visit. as they were leaving, charles darwin said, with a pathetic look of regret, "if i could have been left alone in that green-house for five minutes, i know i should have been able to see my father in his wheel-chair as vividly as if he had been there before me." perhaps this incident shows what i think is the truth, that the memory of his father he loved the best, was that of him as an old man. mrs. litchfield has noted down a few words which illustrate well his feeling towards his father. she describes him as saying with the most tender respect, "i think my father was a little unjust to me when i was young; but afterwards, i am thankful to think i became a prime favourite with him." she has a vivid recollection of the expression of happy reverie that accompanied these words, as if he were reviewing the whole relation, and the remembrance left a deep sense of peace and gratitude. dr. darwin had six children, of whom none are now living: marianne, married dr. henry parker; caroline, married josiah wedgwood; erasmus alvey; susan, died unmarried; charles robert; catharine, married rev. charles langton. the elder son, erasmus, was born in , and died unmarried at the age of seventy-seven. his name, not known to the general public, may be remembered from a few words of description occurring in carlyle's _reminiscences_ (vol. ii. p. ). a truer and more sympathetic sketch of his character, by his cousin, miss julia wedgwood, was published in the _spectator_, september , . there was something pathetic in charles darwin's affection for his brother erasmus, as if he always recollected his solitary life, and the touching patience and sweetness of his nature. he often spoke of him as "poor old ras," or "poor dear old philos." i imagine philos (philosopher) was a relic of the days when they worked at chemistry in the tool-house at shrewsbury--a time of which he always preserved a pleasant memory. erasmus was rather more than four years older than charles darwin, so that they were not long together at cambridge, but previously at edinburgh they shared the same lodgings, and after the voyage they lived for a time together in erasmus' house in great marlborough street. in later years erasmus darwin came to down occasionally, or joined his brother's family in a summer holiday. but gradually it came about that he could not, through ill health, make up his mind to leave london, and thus they only saw each other when charles darwin went for a week at a time to his brother's house in queen anne street. this brief sketch of the family to which charles darwin belonged may perhaps suffice to introduce the reader to the autobiographical chapter which follows. footnotes: [ ] see charles darwin's biographical sketch of his grandfather, prefixed to ernst krause's _erasmus darwin_. (translated from the german by w. s. dallas, .) also miss meteyard's _life of josiah wedgwood_. [ ] the above passage is, by permission of messrs. smith & elder, taken from my article _charles darwin_, in the _dictionary of national biography_. [ ] _a group of englishmen_, by miss meteyard, . chapter ii. autobiography. [my father's autobiographical recollections, given in the present chapter, were written for his children,--and written without any thought that they would ever be published. to many this may seem an impossibility; but those who knew my father will understand how it was not only possible, but natural. the autobiography bears the heading, _recollections of the development of my mind and character_, and ends with the following note:--"aug. , . this sketch of my life was begun about may th at hopedene,[ ] and since then i have written for nearly an hour on most afternoons." it will easily be understood that, in a narrative of a personal and intimate kind written for his wife and children, passages should occur which must here be omitted; and i have not thought it necessary to indicate where such omissions are made. it has been found necessary to make a few corrections of obvious verbal slips, but the number of such alterations has been kept down to the minimum.--f. d] a german editor having written to me for an account of the development of my mind and character with some sketch of my autobiography, i have thought that the attempt would amuse me, and might possibly interest my children or their children. i know that it would have interested me greatly to have read even so short and dull a sketch of the mind of my grandfather, written by himself, and what he thought and did, and how he worked. i have attempted to write the following account of myself, as if i were a dead man in another world looking back at my own life. nor have i found this difficult, for life is nearly over with me. i have taken no pains about my style of writing. i was born at shrewsbury on february th, , and my earliest recollection goes back only to when i was a few months over four years old, when we went to near abergele for sea-bathing, and i recollect some events and places there with some little distinctness. my mother died in july , when i was a little over eight years old, and it is odd that i can remember hardly anything about her except her deathbed, her black velvet gown, and her curiously constructed work-table. in the spring of this same year i was sent to a day-school in shrewsbury, where i stayed a year. i have been told that i was much slower in learning than my younger sister catherine, and i believe that i was in many ways a naughty boy. by the time i went to this day-school[ ] my taste for natural history, and more especially for collecting, was well developed. i tried to make out the names of plants, and collected all sorts of things, shells, seals, franks, coins, and minerals. the passion for collecting which leads a man to be a systematic naturalist, a virtuoso, or a miser, was very strong in me, and was clearly innate, as none of my sisters or brother ever had this taste. one little event during this year has fixed itself very firmly in my mind, and i hope that it has done so from my conscience having been afterwards sorely troubled by it; it is curious as showing that apparently i was interested at this early age in the variability of plants! i told another little boy (i believe it was leighton,[ ] who afterwards became a well-known lichenologist and botanist), that i could produce variously coloured polyanthuses and primroses by watering them with certain coloured fluids, which was of course a monstrous fable, and had never been tried by me. i may here also confess that as a little boy i was much given to inventing deliberate falsehoods, and this was always done for the sake of causing excitement. for instance, i once gathered much valuable fruit from my father's trees and hid it in the shrubbery, and then ran in breathless haste to spread the news that i had discovered a hoard of stolen fruit.[ ] i must have been a very simple little fellow when i first went to the school. a boy of the name of garnett took me into a cake shop one day, and bought some cakes for which he did not pay, as the shopman trusted him. when we came out i asked him why he did not pay for them, and he instantly answered, "why, do you not know that my uncle left a great sum of money to the town on condition that every tradesman should give whatever was wanted without payment to any one who wore his old hat and moved [it] in a particular manner?" and he then showed me how it was moved. he then went into another shop where he was trusted, and asked for some small article, moving his hat in the proper manner, and of course obtained it without payment. when we came out he said, "now if you like to go by yourself into that cake-shop (how well i remember its exact position), i will lend you my hat, and you can get whatever you like if you move the hat on your head properly." i gladly accepted the generous offer, and went in and asked for some cakes, moved the old hat, and was walking out of the shop, when the shopman made a rush at me, so i dropped the cakes and ran for dear life, and was astonished by being greeted with shouts of laughter by my false friend garnett. i can say in my own favour that i was as a boy humane, but i owed this entirely to the instruction and example of my sisters. i doubt indeed whether humanity is a natural or innate quality. i was very fond of collecting eggs, but i never took more than a single egg out of a bird's nest, except on one single occasion, when i took all, not for their value, but from a sort of bravado. i had a strong taste for angling, and would sit for any number of hours on the bank of a river or pond watching the float; when at maer[ ] i was told that i could kill the worms with salt and water, and from that day i never spitted a living worm, though at the expense probably of some loss of success. once as a very little boy whilst at the day school, or before that time, i acted cruelly, for i beat a puppy, i believe, simply from enjoying the sense of power; but the beating could not have been severe, for the puppy did not howl, of which i feel sure as the spot was near the house. this act lay heavily on my conscience, as is shown by my remembering the exact spot where the crime was committed. it probably lay all the heavier from my love of dogs being then, and for a long time afterwards, a passion. dogs seemed to know this, for i was an adept in robbing their love from their masters. i remember clearly only one other incident during this year whilst at mr. case's daily school,--namely, the burial of a dragoon soldier; and it is surprising how clearly i can still see the horse with the man's empty boots and carbine suspended to the saddle, and the firing over the grave. this scene deeply stirred whatever poetic fancy there was in me.[ ] in the summer of i went to dr. butler's great school in shrewsbury, and remained there for seven years till midsummer , when i was sixteen years old. i boarded at this school, so that i had the great advantage of living the life of a true schoolboy; but as the distance was hardly more than a mile to my home, i very often ran there in the longer intervals between the callings over and before locking up at night. this, i think, was in many ways advantageous to me by keeping up home affections and interests. i remember in the early part of my school life that i often had to run very quickly to be in time, and from being a fleet runner was generally successful; but when in doubt i prayed earnestly to god to help me, and i well remember that i attributed my success to the prayers and not to my quick running, and marvelled how generally i was aided. i have heard my father and elder sister say that i had, as a very young boy, a strong taste for long solitary walks; but what i thought about i know not. i often became quite absorbed, and once, whilst returning to school on the summit of the old fortifications round shrewsbury, which had been converted into a public foot-path with no parapet on one side, i walked off and fell to the ground, but the height was only seven or eight feet. nevertheless, the number of thoughts which passed through my mind during this very short, but sudden and wholly unexpected fall, was astonishing, and seem hardly compatible with what physiologists have, i believe, proved about each thought requiring quite an appreciable amount of time. nothing could have been worse for the development of my mind than dr. butler's school, as it was strictly classical, nothing else being taught, except a little ancient geography and history. the school as a means of education to me was simply a blank. during my whole life i have been singularly incapable of mastering any language. especial attention was paid to verse-making, and this i could never do well. i had many friends, and got together a good collection of old verses, which by patching together, sometimes aided by other boys, i could work into any subject. much attention was paid to learning by heart the lessons of the previous day; this i could effect with great facility, learning forty or fifty lines of virgil or homer, whilst i was in morning chapel; but this exercise was utterly useless, for every verse was forgotten in forty-eight hours. i was not idle, and with the exception of versification, generally worked conscientiously at my classics, not using cribs. the sole pleasure i ever received from such studies, was from some of the odes of horace, which i admired greatly. when i left the school i was for my age neither high nor low in it; and i believe that i was considered by all my masters and by my father as a very ordinary boy, rather below the common standard in intellect. to my deep mortification my father once said to me, "you care for nothing but shooting, dogs, and rat-catching, and you will be a disgrace to yourself and all your family." but my father, who was the kindest man i ever knew, and whose memory i love with all my heart, must have been angry and somewhat unjust when he used such words. looking back as well as i can at my character during my school life, the only qualities which at this period promised well for the future, were, that i had strong and diversified tastes, much zeal for whatever interested me, and a keen pleasure in understanding any complex subject or thing. i was taught euclid by a private tutor, and i distinctly remember the intense satisfaction which the clear geometrical proofs gave me. i remember with equal distinctness the delight which my uncle (the father of francis galton) gave me by explaining the principle of the vernier of a barometer. with respect to diversified tastes, independently of science, i was fond of reading various books, and i used to sit for hours reading the historical plays of shakespeare, generally in an old window in the thick walls of the school. i read also other poetry, such as thomson's _seasons_, and the recently published poems of byron and scott. i mention this because later in life i wholly lost, to my great regret, all pleasure from poetry of any kind, including shakespeare. in connection with pleasure from poetry, i may add that in a vivid delight in scenery was first awakened in my mind, during a riding tour on the borders of wales, and this has lasted longer than any other æsthetic pleasure. early in my school-days a boy had a copy of the _wonders of the world_, which i often read, and disputed with other boys about the veracity of some of the statements; and i believe that this book first gave me a wish to travel in remote countries, which was ultimately fulfilled by the voyage of the _beagle_. in the latter part of my school life i became passionately fond of shooting; i do not believe that any one could have shown more zeal for the most holy cause than i did for shooting birds. how well i remember killing my first snipe, and my excitement was so great that i had much difficulty in reloading my gun from the trembling of my hands. this taste long continued, and i became a very good shot. when at cambridge i used to practice throwing up my gun to my shoulder before a looking glass to see that i threw it up straight. another and better plan was to get a friend to wave about a lighted candle, and then to fire at it with a cap on the nipple, and if the aim was accurate the little puff of air would blow out the candle. the explosion of the cap caused a sharp crack, and i was told that the tutor of the college remarked, "what an extraordinary thing it is, mr. darwin seems to spend hours in cracking a horse-whip in his room, for i often hear the crack when i pass under his windows." i had many friends amongst the schoolboys, whom i loved dearly, and i think that my disposition was then very affectionate. with respect to science, i continued collecting minerals with much zeal, but quite unscientifically--all that i cared about was a new-named mineral, and i hardly attempted to classify them. i must have observed insects with some little care, for when ten years old ( ) i went for three weeks to plas edwards on the sea-coast in wales, i was very much interested and surprised at seeing a large black and scarlet hemipterous insect, many moths (zygoena), and a cicindela, which are not found in shropshire. i almost made up my mind to begin collecting all the insects which i could find dead, for on consulting my sister, i concluded that it was not right to kill insects for the sake of making a collection. from reading white's _selborne_, i took much pleasure in watching the habits of birds, and even made notes on the subject. in my simplicity, i remember wondering why every gentleman did not become an ornithologist. towards the close of my school life, my brother worked hard at chemistry, and made a fair laboratory with proper apparatus in the tool-house in the garden, and i was allowed to aid him as a servant in most of his experiments. he made all the gases and many compounds, and i read with care several books on chemistry, such as henry and parkes' _chemical catechism_. the subject interested me greatly, and we often used to go on working till rather late at night. this was the best part of my education at school, for it showed me practically the meaning of experimental science. the fact that we worked at chemistry somehow got known at school, and as it was an unprecedented fact, i was nicknamed "gas." i was also once publicly rebuked by the head-master, dr. butler, for thus wasting my time on such useless subjects; and he called me very unjustly a "poco curante," and as i did not understand what he meant, it seemed to me a fearful reproach. as i was doing no good at school, my father wisely took me away at a rather earlier age than usual, and sent me (october ) to edinburgh[ ] university with my brother, where i stayed for two years or sessions. my brother was completing his medical studies, though i do not believe he ever really intended to practise, and i was sent there to commence them. but soon after this period i became convinced from various small circumstances that my father would leave me property enough to subsist on with some comfort, though i never imagined that i should be so rich a man as i am; but my belief was sufficient to check any strenuous effort to learn medicine. the instruction at edinburgh was altogether by lectures, and these were intolerably dull, with the exception of those on chemistry by hope; but to my mind there are no advantages and many disadvantages in lectures compared with reading. dr. duncan's lectures on materia medica at o'clock on a winter's morning are something fearful to remember. dr. munro made his lectures on human anatomy as dull as he was himself, and the subject disgusted me. it has proved one of the greatest evils in my life that i was not urged to practise dissection, for i should soon have got over my disgust, and the practice would have been invaluable for all my future work. this has been an irremediable evil, as well as my incapacity to draw. i also attended regularly the clinical wards in the hospital. some of the cases distressed me a good deal, and i still have vivid pictures before me of some of them; but i was not so foolish as to allow this to lessen my attendance. i cannot understand why this part of my medical course did not interest me in a greater degree; for during the summer before coming to edinburgh, i began attending some of the poor people, chiefly children and women in shrewsbury: i wrote down as full an account as i could of the case with all the symptoms, and read them aloud to my father, who suggested further inquiries and advised me what medicines to give, which i made up myself. at one time i had at least a dozen patients, and i felt a keen interest in the work.[ ] my father, who was by far the best judge of character whom i ever knew, declared that i should make a successful physician,--meaning by this, one who would get many patients. he maintained that the chief element of success was exciting confidence; but what he saw in me which convinced him that i should create confidence i know not. i also attended on two occasions the operating theatre in the hospital at edinburgh, and saw two very bad operations, one on a child, but i rushed away before they were completed. nor did i ever attend again, for hardly any inducement would have been strong enough to make me do so; this being long before the blessed days of chloroform. the two cases fairly haunted me for many a long year. my brother stayed only one year at the university, so that during the second year i was left to my own resources; and this was an advantage, for i became well acquainted with several young men fond of natural science. one of these was ainsworth, who afterwards published his travels in assyria; he was a wernerian geologist, and knew a little about many subjects. dr. coldstream[ ] was a very different young man, prim, formal, highly religious, and most kind-hearted; he afterwards published some good zoological articles. a third young man was hardie, who would, i think, have made a good botanist, but died early in india. lastly, dr. grant, my senior by several years, but how i became acquainted with him i cannot remember; he published some first-rate zoological papers, but after coming to london as professor in university college, he did nothing more in science, a fact which has always been inexplicable to me. i knew him well; he was dry and formal in manner, with much enthusiasm beneath this outer crust. he one day, when we were walking together, burst forth in high admiration of lamarck and his views on evolution. i listened in silent astonishment, and as far as i can judge, without any effect on my mind. i had previously read the _zoonomia_ of my grandfather, in which similar views are maintained, but without producing any effect on me. nevertheless it is probable that the hearing rather early in life such views maintained and praised may have favoured my upholding them under a different form in my _origin of species_. at this time i admired greatly the _zoonomia_; but on reading it a second time after an interval of ten or fifteen years, i was much disappointed; the proportion of speculation being so large to the facts given. drs. grant and coldstream attended much to marine zoology, and i often accompanied the former to collect animals in the tidal pools, which i dissected as well as i could. i also became friends with some of the newhaven fishermen, and sometimes accompanied them when they trawled for oysters, and thus got many specimens. but from not having had any regular practice in dissection, and from possessing only a wretched microscope, my attempts were very poor. nevertheless i made one interesting little discovery, and read, about the beginning of the year , a short paper on the subject before the plinian society. this was that the so-called ova of flustra had the power of independent movement by means of cilia, and were in fact larvæ. in another short paper, i showed that the little globular bodies which had been supposed to be the young state of _fucus loreus_ were the egg-cases of the worm-like _pontobdella muricata_. the plinian society[ ] was encouraged and, i believe, founded by professor jameson: it consisted of students, and met in an underground room in the university for the sake of reading papers on natural science and discussing them. i used regularly to attend, and the meetings had a good effect on me in stimulating my zeal and giving me new congenial acquaintances. one evening a poor young man got up, and after stammering for a prodigious length of time, blushing crimson, he at last slowly got out the words, "mr. president, i have forgotten what i was going to say." the poor fellow looked quite overwhelmed, and all the members were so surprised that no one could think of a word to say to cover his confusion. the papers which were read to our little society were not printed, so that i had not the satisfaction of seeing my paper in print; but i believe dr. grant noticed my small discovery in his excellent memoir on flustra. i was also a member of the royal medical society, and attended pretty regularly; but as the subjects were exclusively medical, i did not much care about them. much rubbish was talked there, but there were some good speakers, of whom the best was the [late] sir j. kay-shuttleworth. dr. grant took me occasionally to the meetings of the wernerian society, where various papers on natural history were read, discussed, and afterwards published in the transactions. i heard audubon deliver there some interesting discourses on the habits of n. american birds, sneering somewhat unjustly at waterton. by the way, a negro lived in edinburgh, who had travelled with waterton, and gained his livelihood by stuffing birds, which he did excellently: he gave me lessons for payment, and i used often to sit with him, for he was a very pleasant and intelligent man. mr. leonard horner also took me once to a meeting of the royal society of edinburgh, where i saw sir walter scott in the chair as president, and he apologised to the meeting as not feeling fitted for such a position. i looked at him and at the whole scene with some awe and reverence, and i think it was owing to this visit during my youth, and to my having attended the royal medical society, that i felt the honour of being elected a few years ago an honorary member of both these societies, more than any other similar honour. if i had been told at that time that i should one day have been thus honoured, i declare that i should have thought it as ridiculous and improbable, as if i had been told that i should be elected king of england. during my second year at edinburgh i attended jameson's lectures on geology and zoology, but they were incredibly dull. the sole effect they produced on me was the determination never as long as i lived to read a book on geology, or in any way to study the science. yet i feel sure that i was prepared for a philosophical treatment of the subject; for an old mr. cotton, in shropshire, who knew a good deal about rocks, had pointed out to me two or three years previously a well-known large erratic boulder in the town of shrewsbury, called the "bell-stone;" he told me that there was no rock of the same kind nearer than cumberland or scotland, and he solemnly assured me that the world would come to an end before any one would be able to explain how this stone came where it now lay. this produced a deep impression on me, and i meditated over this wonderful stone. so that i felt the keenest delight when i first read of the action of icebergs in transporting boulders, and i gloried in the progress of geology. equally striking is the fact that i, though now only sixty-seven years old, heard the professor, in a field lecture at salisbury craigs, discoursing on a trap-dyke, with amygdaloidal margins and the strata indurated on each side, with volcanic rocks all around us, say that it was a fissure filled with sediment from above, adding with a sneer that there were men who maintained that it had been injected from beneath in a molten condition. when i think of this lecture, i do not wonder that i determined never to attend to geology. from attending jameson's lectures, i became acquainted with the curator of the museum, mr. macgillivray, who afterwards published a large and excellent book on the birds of scotland. i had much interesting natural-history talk with him, and he was very kind to me. he gave me some rare shells, for i at that time collected marine mollusca, but with no great zeal. my summer vacations during these two years were wholly given up to amusements, though i always had some book in hand, which i read with interest. during the summer of , i took a long walking tour with two friends with knapsacks on our backs through north wales. we walked thirty miles most days, including one day the ascent of snowdon. i also went with my sister a riding tour in north wales, a servant with saddle-bags carrying our clothes. the autumns were devoted to shooting, chiefly at mr. owen's, at woodhouse, and at my uncle jos's,[ ] at maer. my zeal was so great that i used to place my shooting-boots open by my bed-side when i went to bed, so as not to lose half a minute in putting them on in the morning; and on one occasion i reached a distant part of the maer estate, on the th of august for black-game shooting, before i could see: i then toiled on with the gamekeeper the whole day through thick heath and young scotch firs. i kept an exact record of every bird which i shot throughout the whole season. one day when shooting at woodhouse with captain owen, the eldest son, and major hill, his cousin, afterwards lord berwick, both of whom i liked very much, i thought myself shamefully used, for every time after i had fired and thought that i had killed a bird, one of the two acted as if loading his gun, and cried out, "you must not count that bird, for i fired at the same time," and the gamekeeper, perceiving the joke, backed them up. after some hours they told me the joke, but it was no joke to me, for i had shot a large number of birds, but did not know how many, and could not add them to my list, which i used to do by making a knot in a piece of string tied to a button-hole. this my wicked friends had perceived. how i did enjoy shooting! but i think that i must have been half-consciously ashamed of my zeal, for i tried to persuade myself that shooting was almost an intellectual employment; it required so much skill to judge where to find most game and to hunt the dogs well. one of my autumnal visits to maer in was memorable from meeting there sir j. mackintosh, who was the best converser i ever listened to. i heard afterwards with a glow of pride that he had said, "there is something in that young man that interests me." this must have been chiefly due to his perceiving that i listened with much interest to everything which he said, for i was as ignorant as a pig about his subjects of history, politics, and moral philosophy. to hear of praise from an eminent person, though no doubt apt or certain to excite vanity, is, i think, good for a young man, as it helps to keep him in the right course. my visits to maer during these two or three succeeding years were quite delightful, independently of the autumnal shooting. life there was perfectly free; the country was very pleasant for walking or riding; and in the evening there was much very agreeable conversation, not so personal as it generally is in large family parties, together with music. in the summer the whole family used often to sit on the steps of the old portico with the flower-garden in front, and with the steep wooded bank opposite the house reflected in the lake, with here and there a fish rising or a water-bird paddling about. nothing has left a more vivid picture on my mind than these evenings at maer. i was also attached to and greatly revered my uncle jos; he was silent and reserved, so as to be a rather awful man; but he sometimes talked openly with me. he was the very type of an upright man, with the clearest judgment. i do not believe that any power on earth could have made him swerve an inch from what he considered the right course. i used to apply to him in my mind the well-known ode of horace, now forgotten by me, in which the words "nec vultus tyranni, &c.,"[ ] come in. _cambridge_, - .--after having spent two sessions in edinburgh, my father perceived, or he heard from my sisters, that i did not like the thought of being a physician, so he proposed that i should become a clergyman. he was very properly vehement against my turning into an idle sporting man, which then seemed my probable destination. i asked for some time to consider, as from what little i had heard or thought on the subject i had scruples about declaring my belief in all the dogmas of the church of england; though otherwise i liked the thought of being a country clergyman. accordingly i read with great care _pearson on the creed_, and a few other books on divinity; and as i did not then in the least doubt the strict and literal truth of every word in the bible, i soon persuaded myself that our creed must be fully accepted. considering how fiercely i have been attacked by the orthodox, it seems ludicrous that i once intended to be a clergyman. nor was this intention and my father's wish ever formally given up, but died a natural death when, on leaving cambridge, i joined the _beagle_ as naturalist. if the phrenologists are to be trusted, i was well fitted in one respect to be a clergyman. a few years ago the secretaries of a german psychological society asked me earnestly by letter for a photograph of myself; and some time afterwards i received the proceedings of one of the meetings, in which it seemed that the shape of my head had been the subject of a public discussion, and one of the speakers declared that i had the bump of reverence developed enough for ten priests. as it was decided that i should be a clergyman, it was necessary that i should go to one of the english universities and take a degree; but as i had never opened a classical book since leaving school, i found to my dismay, that in the two intervening years, i had actually forgotten, incredible as it may appear, almost everything which i had learnt, even to some few of the greek letters. i did not therefore proceed to cambridge at the usual time in october, but worked with a private tutor in shrewsbury, and went to cambridge after the christmas vacation, early in . i soon recovered my school standard of knowledge, and could translate easy greek books, such as homer and the greek testament, with moderate facility. during the three years which i spent at cambridge my time was wasted, as far as the academical studies were concerned, as completely as at edinburgh and at school. i attempted mathematics, and even went during the summer of with a private tutor to barmouth, but i got on very slowly. the work was repugnant to me, chiefly from my not being able to see any meaning in the early steps in algebra. this impatience was very foolish, and in after years i have deeply regretted that i did not proceed far enough at least to understand something of the great leading principles of mathematics, for men thus endowed seem to have an extra sense. but i do not believe that i should ever have succeeded beyond a very low grade. with respect to classics i did nothing except attend a few compulsory college lectures, and the attendance was almost nominal. in my second year i had to work for a month or two to pass the little-go, which i did easily. again, in my last year i worked with some earnestness for my final degree of b.a., and brushed up my classics, together with a little algebra and euclid, which latter gave me much pleasure, as it did at school. in order to pass the b.a. examination, it was also necessary to get up paley's _evidences of christianity_, and his _moral philosophy_. this was done in a thorough manner, and i am convinced that i could have written out the whole of the _evidences_ with perfect correctness, but not of course in the clear language of paley. the logic of this book and, as i may add, of his _natural theology_, gave me as much delight as did euclid. the careful study of these works, without attempting to learn any part by rote, was the only part of the academical course which, as i then felt, and as i still believe, was of the least use to me in the education of my mind. i did not at that time trouble myself about paley's premises; and taking these on trust, i was charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation. by answering well the examination questions in paley, by doing euclid well, and by not failing miserably in classics, i gained a good place among the [greek: oi polloi] or crowd of men who do not go in for honours. oddly enough, i cannot remember how high i stood, and my memory fluctuates between the fifth, tenth, or twelfth, name on the list.[ ] public lectures on several branches were given in the university, attendance being quite voluntary; but i was so sickened with lectures at edinburgh that i did not even attend sedgwick's eloquent and interesting lectures. had i done so i should probably have become a geologist earlier than i did. i attended, however, henslow's lectures on botany, and liked them much for their extreme clearness, and the admirable illustrations; but i did not study botany. henslow used to take his pupils, including several of the older members of the university, field, excursions, on foot or in coaches, to distant places, or in a barge down the river, and lectured on the rarer plants and animals which were observed. these excursions were delightful. although, as we shall presently see, there were some redeeming features in my life at cambridge, my time was sadly wasted there, and worse than wasted. from my passion for shooting and for hunting, and, when this failed, for riding across country, i got into a sporting set, including some dissipated low-minded young men. we used often to dine together in the evening, though these dinners often included men of a higher stamp, and we sometimes drank too much, with jolly singing and playing at cards afterwards. i know that i ought to feel ashamed of days and evenings thus spent, but as some of my friends were very pleasant, and we were all in the highest spirits, i cannot help looking back to these times with much pleasure.[ ] but i am glad to think that i had many other friends of a widely different nature. i was very intimate with whitley,[ ] who was afterwards senior wrangler, and we used continually to take long walks together. he inoculated me with a taste for pictures and good engravings, of which i bought some. i frequently went to the fitzwilliam gallery, and my taste must have been fairly good, for i certainly admired the best pictures, which i discussed with the old curator. i read also with much interest sir joshua reynolds' book. this taste, though not natural to me, lasted for several years, and many of the pictures in the national gallery in london gave me much pleasure; that of sebastian del piombo exciting in me a sense of sublimity. i also got into a musical set, i believe by means of my warm-hearted friend, herbert,[ ] who took a high wrangler's degree. from associating with these men, and hearing them play, i acquired a strong taste for music, and used very often to time my walks so as to hear on week days the anthem in king's college chapel. this gave me intense pleasure, so that my backbone would sometimes shiver. i am sure that there was no affectation or mere imitation in this taste, for i used generally to go by myself to king's college, and i sometimes hired the chorister boys to sing in my rooms. nevertheless i am so utterly destitute of an ear, that i cannot perceive a discord, or keep time and hum a tune correctly; and it is a mystery how i could possibly have derived pleasure from music. my musical friends soon perceived my state, and sometimes amused themselves by making me pass an examination, which consisted in ascertaining how many tunes i could recognise, when they were played rather more quickly or slowly than usual. 'god save the king,' when thus played, was a sore puzzle. there was another man with almost as bad an ear as i had, and strange to say he played a little on the flute. once i had the triumph of beating him in one of our musical examinations. but no pursuit at cambridge was followed with nearly so much eagerness or gave me so much pleasure as collecting beetles. it was the mere passion for collecting, for i did not dissect them, and rarely compared their external characters with published descriptions, but got them named anyhow. i will give a proof of my zeal: one day, on tearing off some old bark, i saw two rare beetles, and seized one in each hand; then i saw a third and new kind, which i could not bear to lose, so that i popped the one which i held in my right hand into my mouth. alas! it ejected some intensely acrid fluid, which burnt my tongue so that i was forced to spit the beetle out, which was lost, as was the third one. i was very successful in collecting, and invented two new methods; i employed a labourer to scrape, during the winter, moss off old trees and place it in a large bag, and likewise to collect the rubbish at the bottom of the barges in which reeds are brought from the fens, and thus i got some very rare species. no poet ever felt more delighted at seeing his first poem published than i did at seeing, in stephens' _illustrations of british insects_, the magic words, "captured by c. darwin, esq." i was introduced to entomology by my second cousin, w. darwin fox, a clever and most pleasant man, who was then at christ's college, and with whom i became extremely intimate. afterwards i became well acquainted, and went out collecting, with albert way of trinity, who in after years became a well-known archaeologist; also with h. thompson,[ ] of the same college, afterwards a leading agriculturist, chairman of a great railway, and member of parliament. it seems, therefore, that a taste for collecting beetles is some indication of future success in life! i am surprised what an indelible impression many of the beetles which i caught at cambridge have left on my mind. i can remember the exact appearance of certain posts, old trees and banks where i made a good capture. the pretty _panagæus crux-major_ was a treasure in those days, and here at down i saw a beetle running across a walk, and on picking it up instantly perceived that it differed slightly from _p. crux-major_, and it turned out to be _p. quadripunctatus_, which is only a variety or closely allied species, differing from it very slightly in outline. i had never seen in those old days licinus alive, which to an uneducated eye hardly differs from many of the black carabidous beetles; but my sons found here a specimen, and i instantly recognised that it was new to me; yet i had not looked at a british beetle for the last twenty years. i have not yet mentioned a circumstance which influenced my whole career more than any other. this was my friendship with professor henslow. before coming up to cambridge, i had heard of him from my brother as a man who knew every branch of science, and i was accordingly prepared to reverence him. he kept open house once every week[ ] when all under-graduates and some older members of the university, who were attached to science, used to meet in the evening. i soon got, through fox, an invitation, and went there regularly. before long i became well acquainted with henslow, and during the latter half of my time at cambridge took long walks with him on most days; so that i was called by some of the dons "the man who walks with henslow;" and in the evening i was very often asked to join his family dinner. his knowledge was great in botany, entomology, chemistry, mineralogy, and geology. his strongest taste was to draw conclusions from long-continued minute observations. his judgment was excellent, and his whole mind well-balanced; but i do not suppose that any one would say that he possessed much original genius. he was deeply religious, and so orthodox, that he told me one day he should be grieved if a single word of the thirty-nine articles were altered. his moral qualities were in every way admirable. he was free from every tinge of vanity or other petty feeling; and i never saw a man who thought so little about himself or his own concerns. his temper was imperturbably good, with the most winning and courteous manners; yet, as i have seen, he could be roused by any bad action to the warmest indignation and prompt action. i once saw in his company in the streets of cambridge almost as horrid a scene as could have been witnessed during the french revolution. two body-snatchers had been arrested, and whilst being taken to prison had been torn from the constable by a crowd of the roughest men, who dragged them by their legs along the muddy and stony road. they were covered from head to foot with mud, and their faces were bleeding either from having been kicked or from the stones; they looked like corpses, but the crowd was so dense that i got only a few momentary glimpses of the wretched creatures. never in my life have i seen such wrath painted on a man's face as was shown by henslow at this horrid scene. he tried repeatedly to penetrate the mob; but it was simply impossible. he then rushed away to the mayor, telling me not to follow him, but to get more policemen. i forget the issue, except that the two men were got into the prison without being killed. henslow's benevolence was unbounded, as he proved by his many excellent schemes for his poor parishioners, when in after years he held the living of hitcham. my intimacy with such a man ought to have been, and i hope was, an inestimable benefit. i cannot resist mentioning a trifling incident, which showed his kind consideration. whilst examining some pollen-grains on a damp surface, i saw the tubes exserted, and instantly rushed off to communicate my surprising discovery to him. now i do not suppose any other professor of botany could have helped laughing at my coming in such a hurry to make such a communication. but he agreed how interesting the phenomenon was, and explained its meaning, but made me clearly understand how well it was known; so i left him not in the least mortified, but well pleased at having discovered for myself so remarkable a fact, but determined not to be in such a hurry again to communicate my discoveries. dr. whewell was one of the older and distinguished men who sometimes visited henslow, and on several occasions i walked home with him at night. next to sir j. mackintosh he was the best converser on grave subjects to whom i ever listened. leonard jenyns,[ ] who afterwards published some good essays in natural history, often stayed with henslow, who was his brother-in-law. i visited him at his parsonage on the borders of the fens [swaffham bulbeck], and had many a good walk and talk with him about natural history. i became also acquainted with several other men older than me, who did not care much about science, but were friends of henslow. one was a scotchman, brother of sir alexander ramsay, and tutor of jesus college; he was a delightful man, but did not live for many years. another was mr. dawes, afterwards dean of hereford, and famous for his success in the education of the poor. these men and others of the same standing, together with henslow, used sometimes to take distant excursions into the country, which i was allowed to join, and they were most agreeable. looking back, i infer that there must have been something in me a little superior to the common run of youths, otherwise the above-mentioned men, so much older than me and higher in academical position, would never have allowed me to associate with them. certainly i was not aware of any such superiority, and i remember one of my sporting friends, turner, who saw me at work with my beetles, saying that i should some day be a fellow of the royal society, and the notion seemed to me preposterous. during my last year at cambridge, i read with care and profound interest humboldt's _personal narrative_. this work, and sir j. herschel's _introduction to the study of natural philosophy_, stirred up in me a burning zeal to add even the most humble contribution to the noble structure of natural science. no one or a dozen other books influenced me nearly so much as these two. i copied out from humboldt long passages about teneriffe, and read them aloud on one of the above-mentioned excursions, to (i think) henslow, ramsay, and dawes, for on a previous occasion i had talked about the glories of teneriffe, and some of the party declared they would endeavour to go there; but i think they were only half in earnest. i was, however, quite in earnest, and got an introduction to a merchant in london to enquire about ships; but the scheme was, of course, knocked on the head by the voyage of the _beagle_. my summer vacations were given up to collecting beetles, to some reading, and short tours. in the autumn my whole time was devoted to shooting, chiefly at woodhouse and maer, and sometimes with young eyton of eyton. upon the whole the three years which i spent at cambridge were the most joyful in my happy life; for i was then in excellent health, and almost always in high spirits. as i had at first come up to cambridge at christmas, i was forced to keep two terms after passing my final examination, at the commencement of ; and henslow then persuaded me to begin the study of geology. therefore on my return to shropshire i examined sections, and coloured a map of parts round shrewsbury. professor sedgwick intended to visit north wales in the beginning of august to pursue his famous geological investigations amongst the older rocks, and henslow asked him to allow me to accompany him.[ ] accordingly he came and slept at my father's house. a short conversation with him during this evening produced a strong impression on my mind. whilst examining an old gravel-pit near shrewsbury, a labourer told me that he had found in it a large worn tropical volute shell, such as may be seen on chimney-pieces of cottages; and as he would not sell the shell, i was convinced that he had really found it in the pit. i told sedgwick of the fact, and he at once said (no doubt truly) that it must have been thrown away by some one into the pit; but then added, if really embedded there it would be the greatest misfortune to geology, as it would overthrow all that we know about the superficial deposits of the midland counties. these gravel-beds belong in fact to the glacial period, and in after years i found in them broken arctic shells. but i was then utterly astonished at sedgwick not being delighted at so wonderful a fact as a tropical shell being found near the surface in the middle of england. nothing before had ever made me thoroughly realise, though i had read various scientific books, that science consists in grouping facts so that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them. next morning we started for llangollen, conway, bangor, and capel curig. this tour was of decided use in teaching me a little how to make out the geology of a country. sedgwick often sent me on a line parallel to his, telling me to bring back specimens of the rocks and to mark the stratification on a map. i have little doubt that he did this for my good, as i was too ignorant to have aided him. on this tour i had a striking instance how easy it is to overlook phenomena, however conspicuous, before they have been observed by any one. we spent many hours in cwm idwal, examining all the rocks with extreme care, as sedgwick was anxious to find fossils in them; but neither of us saw a trace of the wonderful glacial phenomena all around us; we did not notice the plainly scored rocks, the perched boulders, the lateral and terminal moraines. yet these phenomena are so conspicuous that, as i declared in a paper published many years afterwards in the _philosophical magazine_,[ ] a house burnt down by fire did not tell its story more plainly than did this valley. if it had still been filled by a glacier, the phenomena would have been less distinct than they now are. at capel curig i left sedgwick and went in a straight line by compass and map across the mountains to barmouth, never following any track unless it coincided with my course. i thus came on some strange wild places, and enjoyed much this manner of travelling. i visited barmouth to see some cambridge friends who were reading there, and thence returned to shrewsbury and to maer for shooting; for at that time i should have thought myself mad to give up the first days of partridge-shooting for geology or any other science. _voyage of the 'beagle': from december , , to october , ._ on returning home from my short geological tour in north wales, i found a letter from henslow, informing me that captain fitz-roy was willing to give up part of his own cabin to any young man who would volunteer to go with him without pay as naturalist to the voyage of the _beagle_. i have given, as i believe, in my ms. journal an account of all the circumstances which then occurred; i will here only say that i was instantly eager to accept the offer, but my father strongly objected, adding the words, fortunate for me, "if you can find any man of common-sense who advises you to go i will give my consent." so i wrote that evening and refused the offer. on the next morning i went to maer to be ready for september st, and whilst out shooting, my uncle[ ] sent for me, offering to drive me over to shrewsbury and talk with my father, as my uncle thought it would be wise in me to accept the offer. my father always maintained that [my uncle] was one of the most sensible men in the world, and he at once consented in the kindest manner. i had been rather extravagant at cambridge, and to console my father, said, "that i should be deuced clever to spend more than my allowance whilst on board the _beagle_;" but he answered with a smile, "but they tell me you are very clever." next day i started for cambridge to see henslow, and thence to london to see fitz-roy, and all was soon arranged. afterwards, on becoming very intimate with fitz-roy, i heard that i had run a very narrow risk of being rejected on account of the shape of my nose! he was an ardent disciple of lavater, and was convinced that he could judge of a man's character by the outline of his features; and he doubted whether any one with my nose could possess sufficient energy and determination for the voyage. but i think he was afterwards well satisfied that my nose had spoken falsely. fitz-roy's character was a singular one, with very many noble features: he was devoted to his duty, generous to a fault, bold, determined, and indomitably energetic, and an ardent friend to all under his sway. he would undertake any sort of trouble to assist those whom he thought deserved assistance. he was a handsome man, strikingly like a gentleman, with highly-courteous manners, which resembled those of his maternal uncle, the famous lord castlereagh, as i was told by the minister at rio. nevertheless he must have inherited much in his appearance from charles ii., for dr. wallich gave me a collection of photographs which he had made, and i was struck with the resemblance of one to fitz-roy; and on looking at the name, i found it ch. e. sobieski stuart, count d'albanie,[ ] a descendant of the same monarch. fitz-roy's temper was a most unfortunate one. it was usually worst in the early morning, and with his eagle eye he could generally detect something amiss about the ship, and was then unsparing in his blame. he was very kind to me, but was a man very difficult to live with on the intimate terms which necessarily followed from our messing by ourselves in the same cabin. we had several quarrels; for instance, early in the voyage at bahia, in brazil, he defended and praised slavery, which i abominated, and told me that he had just visited a great slave-owner, who had called up many of his slaves and asked them whether they were happy, and whether they wished to be free, and all answered "no." i then asked him, perhaps with a sneer, whether he thought that the answer of slaves in the presence of their master was worth anything? this made him excessively angry, and he said that as i doubted his word we could not live any longer together. i thought that i should have been compelled to leave the ship; but as soon as the news spread, which it did quickly, as the captain sent for the first lieutenant to assuage his anger by abusing me, i was deeply gratified by receiving an invitation from all the gun-room officers to mess with them. but after a few hours fitz-roy showed his usual magnanimity by sending an officer to me with an apology and a request that i would continue to live with him. his character was in several respects one of the most noble which i have ever known. the voyage of the _beagle_ has been by far the most important event in my life, and has determined my whole career; yet it depended on so small a circumstance as my uncle offering to drive me thirty miles to shrewsbury, which few uncles would have done, and on such a trifle as the shape of my nose. i have always felt that i owe to the voyage the first real training or education of my mind; i was led to attend closely to several branches of natural history, and thus my powers of observation were improved, though they were always fairly developed. the investigation of the geology of all the places visited was far more important, as reasoning here comes into play. on first examining a new district, nothing can appear more hopeless than the chaos of rocks; but by recording the stratification and nature of the rocks and fossils at many points, always reasoning and predicting what will be found elsewhere, light soon begins to dawn on the district, and the structure of the whole becomes more or less intelligible. i had brought with me the first volume of lyell's _principles of geology_, which i studied attentively; and the book was of the highest service to me in many ways. the very first place which i examined, namely, st. jago, in the cape de verde islands, showed me clearly the wonderful superiority of lyell's manner of treating geology, compared with that of any other author whose works i had with me or ever afterwards read. another of my occupations was collecting animals of all classes, briefly describing and roughly dissecting many of the marine ones; but from not being able to draw, and from not having sufficient anatomical knowledge, a great pile of ms. which i made during the voyage has proved almost useless. i thus lost much time, with the exception of that spent in acquiring some knowledge of the crustaceans, as this was of service when in after years i undertook a monograph of the cirripedia. during some part of the day i wrote my journal, and took much pains in describing carefully and vividly all that i had seen; and this was good practice. my journal served also, in part, as letters to my home, and portions were sent to england whenever there was an opportunity. the above various special studies were, however, of no importance compared with the habit of energetic industry and of concentrated attention to whatever i was engaged in, which i then acquired. everything about which i thought or read was made to bear directly on what i had seen or was likely to see; and this habit of mind was continued during the five years of the voyage. i feel sure that it was this training which has enabled me to do whatever i have done in science. looking backwards, i can now perceive how my love for science gradually preponderated over every other taste. during the first two years my old passion for shooting survived in nearly full force, and i shot myself all the birds and animals for my collection; but gradually i gave up my gun more and more, and finally altogether, to my servant, as shooting interfered with my work, more especially with making out the geological structure of a country. i discovered, though unconsciously and insensibly, that the pleasure of observing and reasoning was a much higher one than that of skill and sport. that my mind became developed through my pursuits during the voyage is rendered probable by a remark made by my father, who was the most acute observer whom i ever saw, of a sceptical disposition, and far from being a believer in phrenology; for on first seeing me after the voyage, he turned round to my sisters, and exclaimed, "why, the shape of his head is quite altered." to return to the voyage. on september th ( ), i paid a flying visit with fitz-roy to the _beagle_ at plymouth. thence to shrewsbury to wish my father and sisters a long farewell. on october th i took up my residence at plymouth, and remained there until december th, when the _beagle_ finally left the shores of england for her circumnavigation of the world. we made two earlier attempts to sail, but were driven back each time by heavy gales. these two months at plymouth were the most miserable which i ever spent, though i exerted myself in various ways. i was out of spirits at the thought of leaving all my family and friends for so long a time, and the weather seemed to me inexpressibly gloomy. i was also troubled with palpitation and pain about the heart, and like many a young ignorant man, especially one with a smattering of medical knowledge, was convinced that i had heart disease. i did not consult any doctor, as i fully expected to hear the verdict that i was not fit for the voyage, and i was resolved to go at all hazards. i need not here refer to the events of the voyage--where we went and what we did--as i have given a sufficiently full account in my published journal. the glories of the vegetation of the tropics rise before my mind at the present time more vividly than anything else; though the sense of sublimity, which the great deserts of patagonia and the forest-clad mountains of tierra del fuego excited in me, has left an indelible impression on my mind. the sight of a naked savage in his native land is an event which can never be forgotten. many of my excursions on horseback through wild countries, or in the boats, some of which lasted several weeks, were deeply interesting; their discomfort and some degree of danger were at that time hardly a drawback, and none at all afterwards. i also reflect with high satisfaction on some of my scientific work, such as solving the problem of coral islands, and making out the geological structure of certain islands, for instance, st. helena. nor must i pass over the discovery of the singular relations of the animals and plants inhabiting the several islands of the galapagos archipelago, and of all of them to the inhabitants of south america. as far as i can judge of myself, i worked to the utmost during the voyage from the mere pleasure of investigation, and from my strong desire to add a few facts to the great mass of facts in natural science. but i was also ambitious to take a fair place among scientific men,--whether more ambitious or less so than most of my fellow-workers, i can form no opinion. the geology of st. jago is very striking, yet simple: a stream of lava formerly flowed over the bed of the sea, formed of triturated recent shells and corals, which it has baked into a hard white rock. since then the whole island has been upheaved. but the line of white rock revealed to me a new and important fact, namely, that there had been afterwards subsidence round the craters, which had since been in action, and had poured forth lava. it then first dawned on me that i might perhaps write a book on the geology of the various countries visited, and this made me thrill with delight. that was a memorable hour to me, and how distinctly i can call to mind the low cliff of lava beneath which i rested, with the sun glaring hot, a few strange desert plants growing near, and with living corals in the tidal pools at my feet. later in the voyage, fitz-roy asked me to read some of my journal, and declared it would be worth publishing; so here was a second book in prospect! towards the close of our voyage i received a letter whilst at ascension, in which my sisters told me that sedgwick had called on my father, and said that i should take a place among the leading scientific men. i could not at the time understand how he could have learnt anything of my proceedings, but i heard (i believe afterwards) that henslow had read some of the letters which i wrote to him before the philosophical society of cambridge,[ ] and had printed them for private distribution. my collection of fossil bones, which had been sent to henslow, also excited considerable attention amongst palæontologists. after reading this letter, i clambered over the mountains of ascension with a bounding step and made the volcanic rocks resound under my geological hammer. all this shows how ambitious i was; but i think that i can say with truth that in after years, though i cared in the highest degree for the approbation of such men as lyell and hooker, who were my friends, i did not care much about the general public. i do not mean to say that a favourable review or a large sale of my books did not please me greatly, but the pleasure was a fleeting one, and i am sure that i have never turned one inch out of my course to gain fame. _from my return to england (october , ) to my marriage (january , )._ these two years and three months wore the most active ones which i ever spent, though i was occasionally unwell, and so lost some time. after going backwards and forwards several times between shrewsbury, maer, cambridge, and london, i settled in lodgings at cambridge[ ] on december th, where all my collections were under the care of henslow. i stayed here three months, and got my minerals and rocks examined by the aid of professor miller. i began preparing my _journal of travels_, which was not hard work, as my ms. journal had been written with care, and my chief labour was making an abstract of my more interesting scientific results. i sent also, at the request of lyell, a short account of my observations on the elevation of the coast of chili to the geological society.[ ] on march th, , i took lodgings in great marlborough street in london, and remained there for nearly two years, until i was married. during these two years i finished my journal, read several papers before the geological society, began preparing the ms. for my _geological observations_, and arranged for the publication of the _zoology of the voyage of the beagle_. in july i opened my first note-book for facts in relation to the _origin of species_, about which i had long reflected, and never ceased working for the next twenty years. during these two years i also went a little into society, and acted as one of the honorary secretaries of the geological society. i saw a great deal of lyell. one of his chief characteristics was his sympathy with the work of others, and i was as much astonished as delighted at the interest which he showed when, on my return to england, i explained to him my views on coral reefs. this encouraged me greatly, and his advice and example had much influence on me. during this time i saw also a good deal of robert brown; i used often to call and sit with him during his breakfast on sunday mornings, and he poured forth a rich treasure of curious observations and acute remarks, but they almost always related to minute points, and he never with me discussed large or general questions in science. during these two years i took several short excursions as a relaxation, and one longer one to the parallel roads of glen roy, an account of which was published in the _philosophical transactions_.[ ] this paper was a great failure, and i am ashamed of it. having been deeply impressed with what i had seen of the elevation of the land in south america, i attributed the parallel lines to the action of the sea; but i had to give up this view when agassiz propounded his glacier-lake theory. because no other explanation was possible under our then state of knowledge, i argued in favour of sea-action; and my error has been a good lesson to me never to trust in science to the principle of exclusion. as i was not able to work all day at science, i read a good deal during these two years on various subjects, including some metaphysical books; but i was not well fitted for such studies. about this time i took much delight in wordsworth's and coleridge's poetry; and can boast that i read the _excursion_ twice through. formerly milton's _paradise lost_ had been my chief favourite, and in my excursions during the voyage of the _beagle_, when i could take only a single volume, i always chose milton. _from my marriage, january , , and residence in upper gower street, to our leaving london and settling at down, september , ._ [after speaking of his happy married life, and of his children, he continues:] during the three years and eight months whilst we resided in london, i did less scientific work, though i worked as hard as i possibly could, than during any other equal length of time in my life. this was owing to frequently recurring unwellness, and to one long and serious illness. the greater part of my time, when i could do anything, was devoted to my work on _coral reefs_, which i had begun before my marriage, and of which the last proof-sheet was corrected on may th, . this book, though a small one, cost me twenty months of hard work, as i had to read every work on the islands of the pacific and to consult many charts. it was thought highly of by scientific men, and the theory therein given is, i think, now well established. no other work of mine was begun in so deductive a spirit as this, for the whole theory was thought out on the west coast of south america, before i had seen a true coral reef. i had therefore only to verify and extend my views by a careful examination of living reefs. but it should be observed that i had during the two previous years been incessantly attending to the effects on the shores of south america of the intermittent elevation of the land, together with denudation and the deposition of sediment. this necessarily led me to reflect much on the effects of subsidence, and it was easy to replace in imagination the continued deposition of sediment by the upward growth of corals. to do this was to form my theory of the formation of barrier-reefs and atolls. besides my work on coral-reefs, during my residence in london, i read before the geological society papers on the erratic boulders of south america,[ ] on earthquakes,[ ] and on the formation by the agency of earth-worms of mould.[ ] i also continued to superintend the publication of the _zoology of the voyage of the beagle_. nor did i ever intermit collecting facts bearing on the origin of species; and i could sometimes do this when i could do nothing else from illness. in the summer of i was stronger than i had been for some time, and took a little tour by myself in north wales, for the sake of observing the effects of the old glaciers which formerly filled all the larger valleys. i published a short account of what i saw in the _philosophical magazine_.[ ] this excursion interested me greatly, and it was the last time i was ever strong enough to climb mountains or to take long walks such as are necessary for geological work. during the early part of our life in london, i was strong enough to go into general society, and saw a good deal of several scientific men and other more or less distinguished men. i will give my impressions with respect to some of them, though i have little to say worth saying. i saw more of lyell than of any other man, both before and after my marriage. his mind was characterised, as it appeared to me, by clearness, caution, sound judgment, and a good deal of originality. when i made any remark to him on geology, he never rested until he saw the whole case clearly, and often made me see it more clearly than i had done before. he would advance all possible objections to my suggestion, and even after these were exhausted would long remain dubious. a second characteristic was his hearty sympathy with the work of other scientific men.[ ] on my return from the voyage of the _beagle_, i explained to him my views on coral-reefs, which differed from his, and i was greatly surprised and encouraged by the vivid interest which he showed. his delight in science was ardent, and he felt the keenest interest in the future progress of mankind. he was very kind-hearted, and thoroughly liberal in his religious beliefs, or rather disbeliefs; but he was a strong theist. his candour was highly remarkable. he exhibited this by becoming a convert to the descent theory, though he had gained much fame by opposing lamarck's views, and this after he had grown old. he reminded me that i had many years before said to him, when discussing the opposition of the old school of geologists to his new views, "what a good thing it would be if every scientific man was to die when sixty years old, as afterwards he would be sure to oppose all new doctrines." but he hoped that now he might be allowed to live. the science of geology is enormously indebted to lyell--more so, as i believe, than to any other man who ever lived. when [i was] starting on the voyage of the _beagle_, the sagacious henslow, who, like all other geologists, believed at that time in successive cataclysms, advised me to get and study the first volume of the _principles_, which had then just been published, but on no account to accept the views therein advocated. how differently would any one now speak of the _principles_! i am proud to remember that the first place, namely, st. jago, in the cape de verde archipelago, in which i geologised, convinced me of the infinite superiority of lyell's views over those advocated in any other work known to me. the powerful effects of lyell's works could formerly be plainly seen in the different progress of the science in france and england. the present total oblivion of elie de beaumont's wild hypotheses, such as his _craters of elevation_ and _lines of elevation_ (which latter hypothesis i heard sedgwick at the geological society lauding to the skies), may be largely attributed to lyell. i saw a good deal of robert brown, "facile princeps botanicorum," as he was called by humboldt. he seemed to me to be chiefly remarkable for the minuteness of his observations and their perfect accuracy. his knowledge was extraordinarily great, and much died with him, owing to his excessive fear of ever making a mistake. he poured out his knowledge to me in the most unreserved manner, yet was strangely jealous on some points. i called on him two or three times before the voyage of the _beagle_, and on one occasion he asked me to look through a microscope and describe what i saw. this i did, and believe now that it was the marvellous currents of protoplasm in some vegetable cell. i then asked him what i had seen; but he answered me, "that is my little secret." he was capable of the most generous actions. when old, much out of health, and quite unfit for any exertion, he daily visited (as hooker told me) an old man-servant, who lived at a distance (and whom he supported), and read aloud to him. this is enough to make up for any degree of scientific penuriousness or jealousy. i may here mention a few other eminent men whom i have occasionally seen, but i have little to say about them worth saying. i felt a high reverence for sir j. herschel, and was delighted to dine with him at his charming house at the cape of good hope and afterwards at his london house. i saw him, also, on a few other occasions. he never talked much, but every word which he uttered was worth listening to. i once met at breakfast, at sir r. murchison's house, the illustrious humboldt, who honoured me by expressing a wish to see me. i was a little disappointed with the great man, but my anticipations probably were too high. i can remember nothing distinctly about our interview, except that humboldt was very cheerful and talked much. x.[ ] reminds me of buckle, whom i once met at hensleigh wedgwood's. i was very glad to learn from [buckle] his system of collecting facts. he told me that he bought all the books which he read, and made a full index to each, of the facts which he thought might prove serviceable to him, and that he could always remember in what book he had read anything, for his memory was wonderful. i asked him how at first he could judge what facts would be serviceable, and he answered that he did not know, but that a sort of instinct guided him. from this habit of making indices, he was enabled to give the astonishing number of references on all sorts of subjects which may be found in his _history of civilisation_. this book i thought most interesting, and read it twice, but i doubt whether his generalisations are worth anything. buckle was a great talker; and i listened to him, saying hardly a word, nor indeed could i have done so, for he left no gaps. when mrs. farrer began to sing, i jumped up and said that i must listen to her. after i had moved away, he turned round to a friend, and said (as was overheard by my brother), "well, mr. darwin's books are much better than his conversation." of other great literary men, i once met sydney smith at dean milman's house. there was something inexplicably amusing in every word which he uttered. perhaps this was partly due to the expectation of being amused. he was talking about lady cork, who was then extremely old. this was the lady who, as he said, was once so much affected by one of his charity sermons, that she _borrowed_ a guinea from a friend to put in the plate. he now said, "it is generally believed that my dear old friend lady cork has been overlooked"; and he said this in such a manner that no one could for a moment doubt that he meant that his dear old friend had been overlooked by the devil. how he managed to express this i know not. i likewise once met macaulay at lord stanhope's (the historian's) house, and as there was only one other man at dinner, i had a grand opportunity of hearing him converse, and he was very agreeable. he did not talk at all too much, nor indeed could such a man talk too much, as long as he allowed others to turn the stream of his conversation, and this he did allow. lord stanhope once gave me a curious little proof of the accuracy and fulness of macaulay's memory. many historians used often to meet at lord stanhope's house; and, in discussing various subjects, they would sometimes differ from macaulay, and formerly they often referred to some book to see who was right; but latterly, as lord stanhope noticed, no historian ever took this trouble, and whatever macaulay said was final. on another occasion i met at lord stanhope's house one of his parties of historians and other literary men, and amongst them were motley and grote. after luncheon i walked about chevening park for nearly an hour with grote, and was much interested by his conversation and pleased by the simplicity and absence of all pretension in his manners. long ago i dined occasionally with the old earl, the father of the historian. he was a strange man, but what little i knew of him i liked much. he was frank, genial, and pleasant. he had strongly-marked features, with a brown complexion, and his clothes, when i saw him, were all brown. he seemed to believe in everything which was to others utterly incredible. he said one day to me, "why don't you give up your fiddle-faddle of geology and zoology, and turn to the occult sciences?" the historian, then lord mahon, seemed shocked at such a speech to me, and his charming wife much amused. the last man whom i will mention is carlyle, seen by me several times at my brother's house and two or three times at my own house. his talk was very racy and interesting, just like his writings, but he sometimes went on too long on the same subject. i remember a funny dinner at my brother's, where, amongst a few others, were babbage and lyell, both of whom liked to talk. carlyle, however, silenced every one by haranguing during the whole dinner on the advantages of silence. after dinner, babbage, in his grimmest manner, thanked carlyle for his very interesting lecture on silence. carlyle sneered at almost every one: one day in my house he called grote's _history_ "a fetid quagmire, with nothing spiritual about it." i always thought, until his _reminiscences_ appeared, that his sneers were partly jokes, but this now seems rather doubtful. his expression was that of a depressed, almost despondent, yet benevolent man, and it is notorious how heartily he laughed. i believe that his benevolence was real, though stained by not a little jealousy. no one can doubt about his extraordinary power of drawing pictures of things and men--far more vivid, as it appears to me, than any drawn by macaulay. whether his pictures of men were true ones is another question. he has been all-powerful in impressing some grand moral truths on the minds of men. on the other hand, his views about slavery were revolting. in his eyes might was right. his mind seemed to me a very narrow one; even if all branches of science, which he despised, are excluded. it is astonishing to me that kingsley should have spoken of him as a man well fitted to advance science. he laughed to scorn the idea that a mathematician, such as whewell, could judge, as i maintained he could, of goethe's views on light. he thought it a most ridiculous thing that any one should care whether a glacier moved a little quicker or a little slower, or moved at all. as far as i could judge, i never met a man with a mind so ill adapted for scientific research. whilst living in london, i attended as regularly as i could the meetings of several scientific societies, and acted as secretary to the geological society. but such attendance, and ordinary society, suited my health so badly that we resolved to live in the country, which we both preferred and have never repented of. _residence at down, from september , , to the present time, ._ after several fruitless searches in surrey and elsewhere, we found this house and purchased it. i was pleased with the diversified appearance of the vegetation proper to a chalk district, and so unlike what i had been accustomed to in the midland counties; and still more pleased with the extreme quietness and rusticity of the place. it is not, however, quite so retired a place as a writer in a german periodical makes it, who says that my house can be approached only by a mule-track! our fixing ourselves here has answered admirably in one way which we did not anticipate, namely, by being very convenient for frequent visits from our children. few persons can have lived a more retired life than we have done. besides short visits to the houses of relations, and occasionally to the seaside or elsewhere, we have gone nowhere. during the first part of our residence we went a little into society, and received a few friends here; but my health almost always suffered from the excitement, violent shivering and vomiting attacks being thus brought on. i have therefore been compelled for many years to give up all dinner-parties; and this has been somewhat of a deprivation to me, as such parties always put me into high spirits. from the same cause i have been able to invite here very few scientific acquaintances. my chief enjoyment and sole employment throughout life has been scientific work, and the excitement from such work makes me for the time forget, or drives quite away, my daily discomfort. i have therefore nothing to record during the rest of my life, except the publication of my several books. perhaps a few details how they arose may be worth giving. _my several publications._--in the early part of , my observations on the volcanic islands visited during the voyage of the _beagle_ were published. in , i took much pains in correcting a new edition of my _journal of researches_, which was originally published in as part of fitz-roy's work. the success of this my first literary child always tickles my vanity more than that of any of my other books. even to this day it sells steadily in england and the united states, and has been translated for the second time into german, and into french and other languages. this success of a book of travels, especially of a scientific one, so many years after its first publication, is surprising. ten thousand copies have been sold in england of the second edition. in my _geological observations on south america_ were published. i record in a little diary, which i have always kept, that my three geological books (_coral reefs_ included) consumed four and a half years' steady work; "and now it is ten years since my return to england. how much time have i lost by illness?" i have nothing to say about these three books except that to my surprise new editions have lately been called for.[ ] in october, , i began to work on 'cirripedia' (barnacles). when on the coast of chile, i found a most curious form, which burrowed into shells of concholepas, and which differed so much from all other cirripedes that i had to form a new sub-order for its sole reception. lately an allied burrowing genus has been found on the shores of portugal. to understand the structure of my new cirripede i had to examine and dissect many of the common forms: and this gradually led me on to take up the whole group. i worked steadily on the subject for the next eight years, and ultimately published two thick volumes,[ ] describing all the known living species, and two thin quartos on the extinct species. i do not doubt that sir e. lytton bulwer had me in his mind when he introduced in one of his novels a professor long, who had written two huge volumes on limpets. although i was employed during eight years on this work, yet i record in my diary that about two years out of this time was lost by illness. on this account i went in for some months to malvern for hydropathic treatment, which did me much good, so that on my return home i was able to resume work. so much was i out of health that when my dear father died on november th, , i was unable to attend his funeral or to act as one of his executors. my work on the cirripedia possesses, i think, considerable value, as besides describing several new and remarkable forms, i made out the homologies of the various parts--i discovered the cementing apparatus, though i blundered dreadfully about the cement glands--and lastly i proved the existence in certain genera of minute males complemental to and parasitic on the hermaphrodites. this latter discovery has at last been fully confirmed; though at one time a german writer was pleased to attribute the whole account to my fertile imagination. the cirripedes form a highly varying and difficult group of species to class; and my work was of considerable use to me, when i had to discuss in the _origin of species_ the principles of a natural classification. nevertheless, i doubt whether the work was worth the consumption of so much time. from september i devoted my whole time to arranging my huge pile of notes, to observing, and to experimenting in relation to the transmutation of species. during the voyage of the _beagle_ i had been deeply impressed by discovering in the pampean formation great fossil animals covered with armour like that on the existing armadillos; secondly, by the manner in which closely allied animals replace one another in proceeding southwards over the continent; and thirdly, by the south american character of most of the productions of the galapagos archipelago, and more especially by the manner in which they differ slightly on each island of the group; none of the islands appearing to be very ancient in a geological sense. it was evident that such facts as these, as well as many others, could only be explained on the supposition that species gradually become modified; and the subject haunted me. but it was equally evident that neither the action of the surrounding conditions, nor the will of the organisms (especially in the case of plants) could account for the innumerable cases in which organisms of every kind are beautifully adapted to their habits of life--for instance, a woodpecker or a tree-frog to climb trees, or a seed for dispersal by hooks or plumes. i had always been much struck by such adaptations, and until these could be explained it seemed to me almost useless to endeavour to prove by indirect evidence that species have been modified. after my return to england it appeared to me that by following the example of lyell in geology, and by collecting all facts which bore in any way on the variation of animals and plants under domestication and nature, some light might perhaps be thrown on the whole subject. my first note-book was opened in july . i worked on true baconian principles, and without any theory collected facts on a wholesale scale, more especially with respect to domesticated productions, by printed enquiries, by conversation with skilful breeders and gardeners, and by extensive reading. when i see the list of books of all kinds which i read and abstracted, including whole series of journals and transactions, i am surprised at my industry. i soon perceived that selection was the keystone of man's success in making useful races of animals and plants. but how selection could be applied to organisms living in a state of nature remained for some time a mystery to me. in october , that is, fifteen months after i had begun my systematic enquiry, i happened to read for amusement malthus on _population_, and being well prepared to appreciate the struggle for existence which everywhere goes on from long-continued observation of the habits of animals and plants, it at once struck me that under these circumstances favourable variations would tend to be preserved, and unfavourable ones to be destroyed. the result of this would be the formation of new species. here, then, i had at last got a theory by which to work; but i was so anxious to avoid prejudice, that i determined not for some time to write even the briefest sketch of it. in june i first allowed myself the satisfaction of writing a very brief abstract of my theory in pencil in pages; and this was enlarged during the summer of into one of pages, which i had fairly copied out and still possess. but at that time i overlooked one problem of great importance; and it is astonishing to me, except on the principle of columbus and his egg, how i could have overlooked it and its solution. this problem is the tendency in organic beings descended from the same stock to diverge in character as they become modified. that they have diverged greatly is obvious from the manner in which species of all kinds can be classed under genera, genera under families, families under sub-orders, and so forth; and i can remember the very spot in the road, whilst in my carriage, when to my joy the solution occurred to me; and this was long after i had come to down. the solution, as i believe, is that the modified offspring of all dominant and increasing forms tend to become adapted to many and highly diversified places in the economy of nature. early in lyell advised me to write out my views pretty fully, and i began at once to do so on a scale three or four times as extensive as that which was afterwards followed in my _origin of species_; yet it was only an abstract of the materials which i had collected, and i got through about half the work on this scale. but my plans were overthrown, for early in the summer of mr. wallace, who was then in the malay archipelago, sent me an essay _on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type_; and this essay contained exactly the same theory as mine. mr. wallace expressed the wish that if i thought well of his essay, i should send it to lyell for perusal. the circumstances under which i consented at the request of lyell and hooker to allow of an abstract from my ms., together with a letter to asa gray, dated september , , to be published at the same time with wallace's essay, are given in the _journal of the proceedings of the linnean society_, , p. . i was at first very unwilling to consent, as i thought mr. wallace might consider my doing so unjustifiable, for i did not then know how generous and noble was his disposition. the extract from my ms. and the letter to asa gray had neither been intended for publication, and were badly written. mr. wallace's essay, on the other hand, was admirably expressed and quite clear. nevertheless, our joint productions excited very little attention, and the only published notice of them which i can remember was by professor haughton of dublin, whose verdict was that all that was new in them was false, and what was true was old. this shows how necessary it is that any new view should be explained at considerable length in order to arouse public attention. in september i set to work by the strong advice of lyell and hooker to prepare a volume on the transmutation of species, but was often interrupted by ill-health, and short visits to dr. lane's delightful hydropathic establishment at moor park. i abstracted the ms. begun on a much larger scale in , and completed the volume on the same reduced scale. it cost me thirteen months and ten days' hard labour. it was published under the title of the _origin of species_, in november . though considerably added to and corrected in the later editions, it has remained substantially the same book. it is no doubt the chief work of my life. it was from the first highly successful. the first small edition of copies was sold on the day of publication, and a second edition of copies soon afterwards. sixteen thousand copies have now ( ) been sold in england; and considering how stiff a book it is, this is a large sale. it has been translated into almost every european tongue, even into such languages as spanish, bohemian, polish, and russian. it has also, according to miss bird, been translated into japanese,[ ] and is there much studied. even an essay in hebrew has appeared on it, showing that the theory is contained in the old testament! the reviews were very numerous; for some time i collected all that appeared on the _origin_ and on my related books, and these amount (excluding newspaper reviews) to ; but after a time i gave up the attempt in despair. many separate essays and books on the subject have appeared; and in germany a catalogue or bibliography on "darwinismus" has appeared every year or two. the success of the _origin_ may, i think, be attributed in large part to my having long before written two condensed sketches, and to my having finally abstracted a much larger manuscript, which was itself an abstract. by this means i was enabled to select the more striking facts and conclusions. i had, also, during many years, followed a golden rule, namely, that whenever a published fact, a new observation or thought came across me, which was opposed to my general results, to make a memorandum of it without fail and at once; for i had found by experience that such facts and thoughts were far more apt to escape from the memory than favourable ones. owing to this habit, very few objections were raised against my views which i had not at least noticed and attempted to answer. it has sometimes been said that the success of the _origin_ proved "that the subject was in the air," or "that men's minds were prepared for it." i do not think that this is strictly true, for i occasionally sounded not a few naturalists, and never happened to come across a single one who seemed to doubt about the permanence of species. even lyell and hooker, though they would listen with interest to me, never seemed to agree. i tried once or twice to explain to able men what i meant by natural selection, but signally failed. what i believe was strictly true is that innumerable well-observed facts were stored in the minds of naturalists ready to take their proper places as soon as any theory which would receive them was sufficiently explained. another element in the success of the book was its moderate size; and this i owe to the appearance of mr. wallace's essay; had i published on the scale in which i began to write in , the book would have been four or five times as large as the _origin_, and very few would have had the patience to read it. i gained much by my delay in publishing from about , when the theory was clearly conceived, to ; and i lost nothing by it, for i cared very little whether men attributed most originality to me or wallace; and his essay no doubt aided in the reception of the theory. i was forestalled in only one important point, which my vanity has always made me regret, namely, the explanation by means of the glacial period of the presence of the same species of plants and of some few animals on distant mountain summits and in the arctic regions. this view pleased me so much that i wrote it out _in extenso_, and i believe that it was read by hooker some years before e. forbes published his celebrated memoir[ ] on the subject. in the very few points in which we differed, i still think that i was in the right. i have never, of course, alluded in print to my having independently worked out this view. hardly any point gave me so much satisfaction when i was at work on the _origin_, as the explanation of the wide difference in many classes between the embryo and the adult animal, and of the close resemblance of the embryos within the same class. no notice of this point was taken, as far as i remember, in the early reviews of the _origin_, and i recollect expressing my surprise on this head in a letter to asa gray. within late years several reviewers have given the whole credit to fritz müller and häckel, who undoubtedly have worked it out much more fully, and in some respects more correctly than i did. i had materials for a whole chapter on the subject, and i ought to have made the discussion longer; for it is clear that i failed to impress my readers; and he who succeeds in doing so deserves, in my opinion, all the credit. this leads me to remark that i have almost always been treated honestly by my reviewers, passing over those without scientific knowledge as not worthy of notice. my views have often been grossly misrepresented, bitterly opposed and ridiculed, but this has been generally done, as i believe, in good faith. on the whole i do not doubt that my works have been over and over again greatly overpraised. i rejoice that i have avoided controversies, and this i owe to lyell, who many years ago, in reference to my geological works, strongly advised me never to get entangled in a controversy, as it rarely did any good and caused a miserable loss of time and temper. whenever i have found out that i have blundered, or that my work has been imperfect, and when i have been contemptuously criticised, and even when i have been overpraised, so that i have felt mortified, it has been my greatest comfort to say hundreds of times to myself that "i have worked as hard and as well as i could, and no man can do more than this." i remember when in good success bay, in tierra del fuego, thinking (and, i believe, that i wrote home to the effect) that i could not employ my life better than in adding a little to natural science. this i have done to the best of my abilities, and critics may say what they like, but they cannot destroy this conviction. during the two last months of i was fully occupied in preparing a second edition of the _origin_, and by an enormous correspondence. on january st, , i began arranging my notes for my work on the _variation of animals and plants under domestication_; but it was not published until the beginning of ; the delay having been caused partly by frequent illnesses, one of which lasted seven months, and partly by being tempted to publish on other subjects which at the time interested me more. on may th, , my little book on the _fertilisation of orchids_, which cost me ten months' work, was published: most of the facts had been slowly accumulated during several previous years. during the summer of , and, i believe, during the previous summer, i was led to attend to the cross-fertilisation of flowers by the aid of insects, from having come to the conclusion in my speculations on the origin of species, that crossing played an important part in keeping specific forms constant. i attended to the subject more or less during every subsequent summer; and my interest in it was greatly enhanced by having procured and read in november , through the advice of robert brown, a copy of c. k. sprengel's wonderful book, _das entdeckte geheimniss der natur_. for some years before i had specially attended to the fertilisation of our british orchids; and it seemed to me the best plan to prepare as complete a treatise on this group of plants as well as i could, rather than to utilise the great mass of matter which i had slowly collected with respect to other plants. my resolve proved a wise one; for since the appearance of my book, a surprising number of papers and separate works on the fertilisation of all kinds of flowers have appeared; and these are far better done than i could possibly have effected. the merits of poor old sprengel, so long overlooked, are now fully recognised many years after his death. during the same year i published in the _journal of the linnean society_, a paper _on the two forms, or dimorphic condition of primula_, and during the next five years, five other papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants. i do not think anything in my scientific life has given me so much satisfaction as making out the meaning of the structure of these plants. i had noticed in or the dimorphism of _linum flavum_, and had at first thought that it was merely a case of unmeaning variability. but on examining the common species of primula, i found that the two forms were much too regular and constant to be thus viewed. i therefore became almost convinced that the common cowslip and primrose were on the high-road to become dioecious;--that the short pistil in the one form, and the short stamens in the other form were tending towards abortion. the plants were therefore subjected under this point of view to trial; but as soon as the flowers with short pistils fertilised with pollen from the short stamens, were found to yield more seeds than any other of the four possible unions, the abortion-theory was knocked on the head. after some additional experiment, it became evident that the two forms, though both were perfect hermaphrodites, bore almost the same relation to one another as do the two sexes of an ordinary animal. with lythrum we have the still more wonderful case of three forms standing in a similar relation to one another. i afterwards found that the offspring from the union of two plants belonging to the same forms presented a close and curious analogy with hybrids from the union of two distinct species. in the autumn of i finished a long paper on _climbing plants_, and sent it to the linnean society. the writing of this paper cost me four months: but i was so unwell when i received the proof-sheets that i was forced to leave them very badly and often obscurely expressed. the paper was little noticed, but when in it was corrected and published as a separate book it sold well. i was led to take up this subject by reading a short paper by asa gray, published in . he sent me seeds, and on raising some plants i was so much fascinated and perplexed by the revolving movements of the tendrils and stems, which movements are really very simple, though appearing at first sight very complex, that i procured various other kinds of climbing plants, and studied the whole subject. i was all the more attracted to it, from not being at all satisfied with the explanation which henslow gave us in his lectures, about twining plants, namely, that they had a natural tendency to grow up in a spire. this explanation proved quite erroneous. some of the adaptations displayed by climbing plants are as beautiful as those of orchids for ensuring cross-fertilisation. my _variation of animals and plants under domestication_ was begun, as already stated, in the beginning of , but was not published until the beginning of . it was a big book, and cost me four years and two months' hard labour. it gives all my observations and an immense number of facts collected from various sources, about our domestic productions. in the second volume the causes and laws of variation, inheritance, &c., are discussed, as far as our present state of knowledge permits. towards the end of the work i give my well-abused hypothesis of pangenesis. an unverified hypothesis is of little or no value; but if any one should hereafter be led to make observations by which some such hypothesis could be established, i shall have done good service, as an astonishing number of isolated facts can be thus connected together and rendered intelligible. in a second and largely corrected edition, which cost me a good deal of labour, was brought out. my _descent of man_ was published in february . as soon as i had become, in the year or , convinced that species were mutable productions, i could not avoid the belief that man must come under the same law. accordingly i collected notes on the subject for my own satisfaction, and not for a long time with any intention of publishing. although in the _origin of species_ the derivation of any particular species is never discussed, yet i thought it best, in order that no honourable man should accuse me of concealing my views, to add that by the work "light would be thrown on the origin of man and his history." it would have been useless, and injurious to the success of the book to have paraded, without giving any evidence, my conviction with respect to his origin. but when i found that many naturalists fully accepted the doctrine of the evolution of species, it seemed to me advisable to work up such notes as i possessed, and to publish a special treatise on the origin of man. i was the more glad to do so, as it gave me an opportunity of fully discussing sexual selection--a subject which had always greatly interested me. this subject, and that of the variation of our domestic productions, together with the causes and laws of variation, inheritance, and the intercrossing of plants, are the sole subjects which i have been able to write about in full, so as to use all the materials which i have collected. the _descent of man_ took me three years to write, but then as usual some of this time was lost by ill-health, and some was consumed by preparing new editions and other minor works. a second and largely corrected edition of the _descent_ appeared in . my book on the _expression of the emotions in men and animals_ was published in the autumn of . i had intended to give only a chapter on the subject in the _descent of man_, but as soon as i began to put my notes together, i saw that it would require a separate treatise. my first child was born on december th, , and i at once commenced to make notes on the first dawn of the various expressions which he exhibited, for i felt convinced, even at this early period, that the most complex and fine shades of expression must all have had a gradual and natural origin. during the summer of the following year, , i read sir c. bell's admirable work on expression, and this greatly increased the interest which i felt in the subject, though i could not at all agree with his belief that various muscles had been specially created for the sake of expression. from this time forward i occasionally attended to the subject, both with respect to man and our domesticated animals. my book sold largely; copies having been disposed of on the day of publication. in the summer of i was idling and resting near hartfield, where two species of [sundew] abound; and i noticed that numerous insects had been entrapped by the leaves. i carried home some plants, and on giving them insects saw the movements of the tentacles, and this made me think it probable that the insects were caught for some special purpose. fortunately a crucial test occurred to me, that of placing a large number of leaves in various nitrogenous and non-nitrogenous fluids of equal density; and as soon as i found that the former alone excited energetic movements, it was obvious that here was a fine new field for investigation. during subsequent years, whenever i had leisure, i pursued my experiments, and my book on _insectivorous plants_ was published in july --that is sixteen years after my first observations. the delay in this case, as with all my other books, has been a great advantage to me; for a man after a long interval can criticise his own work, almost as well as if it were that of another person. the fact that a plant should secrete, when properly excited, a fluid containing an acid and ferment, closely analogous to the digestive fluid of an animal, was certainly a remarkable discovery. during this autumn of i shall publish on the _effects of cross-and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom_. this book will form a complement to that on the _fertilisation of orchids_, in which i showed how perfect were the means for cross-fertilisation, and here i shall show how important are the results. i was led to make, during eleven years, the numerous experiments recorded in this volume, by a mere accidental observation; and indeed it required the accident to be repeated before my attention was thoroughly aroused to the remarkable fact that seedlings of self-fertilised parentage are inferior, even in the first generation, in height and vigour to seedlings of cross-fertilised parentage. i hope also to republish a revised edition of my book on orchids, and hereafter my papers on dimorphic and trimorphic plants, together with some additional observations on allied points which i never have had time to arrange. my strength will then probably be exhausted, and i shall be ready to exclaim "nunc dimittis." _written may st, ._--_the effects of cross- and self-fertilisation_ was published in the autumn of ; and the results there arrived at explain, as i believe, the endless and wonderful contrivances for the transportal of pollen from one plant to another of the same species. i now believe, however, chiefly from the observations of hermann müller, that i ought to have insisted more strongly than i did on the many adaptations for self-fertilisation; though i was well aware of many such adaptations. a much enlarged edition of my _fertilisation of orchids_ was published in . in this same year _the different forms of flowers, &c._, appeared, and in a second edition. this book consists chiefly of the several papers on hetero-styled flowers originally published by the linnean society, corrected, with much new matter added, together with observations on some other cases in which the same plant bears two kinds of flowers. as before remarked, no little discovery of mine ever gave me so much pleasure as the making out the meaning of heterostyled flowers. the results of crossing such flowers in an illegitimate manner, i believe to be very important, as bearing on the sterility of hybrids; although these results have been noticed by only a few persons. in , i had a translation of dr. ernst krause's _life of erasmus darwin_ published, and i added a sketch of his character and habits from material in my possession. many persons have been much interested by this little life, and i am surprised that only or copies were sold. in i published, with [my son] frank's assistance our _power of movement in plants_. this was a tough piece of work. the book bears somewhat the same relation to my little book on _climbing plants_, which _cross-fertilisation_ did to the _fertilisation of orchids_; for in accordance with the principle of evolution it was impossible to account for climbing plants having been developed in so many widely different groups unless all kinds of plants possess some slight power of movement of an analogous kind. this i proved to be the case; and i was further led to a rather wide generalisation, viz., that the great and important classes of movements, excited by light, the attraction of gravity, &c., are all modified forms of the fundamental movement of circumnutation. it has always pleased me to exalt plants in the scale of organised beings; and i therefore felt an especial pleasure in showing how many and what admirably well adapted movements the tip of a root possesses. i have now (may , ) sent to the printers the ms. of a little book on _the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms_. this is a subject of but small importance; and i know not whether it will interest any readers,[ ] but it has interested me. it is the completion of a short paper read before the geological society more than forty years ago, and has revived old geological thoughts. i have now mentioned all the books which i have published, and these have been the milestones in my life, so that little remains to be said. i am not conscious of any change in my mind during the last thirty years, excepting in one point presently to be mentioned; nor, indeed, could any change have been expected unless one of general deterioration. but my father lived to his eighty-third year with his mind as lively as ever it was, and all his faculties undimmed; and i hope that i may die before my mind fails to a sensible extent. i think that i have become a little more skilful in guessing right explanations and in devising experimental tests; but this may probably be the result of mere practice, and of a larger store of knowledge. i have as much difficulty as ever in expressing myself clearly and concisely; and this difficulty has caused me a very great loss of time; but it has had the compensating advantage of forcing me to think long and intently about every sentence, and thus i have been led to see errors in reasoning and in my own observations or those of others. there seems to be a sort of fatality in my mind leading me to put at first my statement or proposition in a wrong or awkward form. formerly i used to think about my sentences before writing them down; but for several years i have found that it saves time to scribble in a vile hand, whole pages as quickly as i possibly can, contracting half the words; and then correct deliberately. sentences thus scribbled down are often better ones than i could have written deliberately. having said thus much about my manner of writing, i will add that with my large books i spend a good deal of time over the general arrangement of the matter. i first make the rudest outline in two or three pages, and then a larger one in several pages, a few words or one word standing for a whole discussion or series of facts. each one of these headings is again enlarged and often transferred before i begin to write _in extenso_. as in several of my books facts observed by others have been very extensively used, and as i have always had several quite distinct subjects in hand at the same time, i may mention that i keep from thirty to forty large portfolios, in cabinets with labelled shelves, into which i can at once put a detached reference or memorandum. i have bought many books, and at their ends i make an index of all the facts that concern my work; or, if the book is not my own, write out a separate abstract, and of such abstracts i have a large drawer full. before beginning on any subject i look to all the short indexes and make a general and classified index, and by taking the one or more proper portfolios i have all the information collected during my life ready for use. i have said that in one respect my mind has changed during the last twenty or thirty years. up to the age of thirty, or beyond it, poetry of many kinds, such as the works of milton, gray, byron, wordsworth, coleridge, and shelley, gave me great pleasure, and even as a schoolboy i took intense delight in shakespeare, especially in the historical plays. i have also said that formerly pictures gave me considerable, and music very great delight. but now for many years i cannot endure to read a line of poetry: i have tried lately to read shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. i have also almost lost my taste for pictures or music. music generally sets me thinking too energetically on what i have been at work on, instead of giving me pleasure. i retain some taste for fine scenery, but it does not cause me the exquisite delight which it formerly did. on the other hand, novels, which are works of the imagination, though not of a very high order, have been for years a wonderful relief and pleasure to me, and i often bless all novelists. a surprising number have been read aloud to me, and i like all if moderately good, and if they do not end unhappily--against which a law ought to be passed. a novel, according to my taste, does not come into the first class unless it contains some person whom one can thoroughly love, and if a pretty woman all the better. this curious and lamentable loss of the higher æsthetic tastes is all the odder, as books on history, biographies, and travels (independently of any scientific facts which they may contain), and essays on all sorts of subjects interest me as much as ever they did. my mind seems to have become a kind of machine for grinding general laws out of large collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, i cannot conceive. a man with a mind more highly organised or better constituted than mine, would not, i suppose, have thus suffered; and if i had to live my life again, i would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week; for perhaps the parts of my brain now atrophied would thus have been kept active through use. the loss of these tastes is a loss of happiness, and may possibly be injurious to the intellect, and more probably to the moral character, by enfeebling the emotional part of our nature. my books have sold largely in england, have been translated into many languages, and passed through several editions in foreign countries. i have heard it said that the success of a work abroad is the best test of its enduring value. i doubt whether this is at all trustworthy; but judged by this standard my name ought to last for a few years. therefore it may be worth while to try to analyse the mental qualities and the conditions on which my success has depended; though i am aware that no man can do this correctly. i have no great quickness of apprehension or wit which is so remarkable in some clever men, for instance, huxley. i am therefore a poor critic: a paper or book, when first read, generally excites my admiration, and it is only after considerable reflection that i perceive the weak points. my power to follow a long and purely abstract train of thought is very limited; and therefore i could never have succeeded with metaphysics or mathematics. my memory is extensive, yet hazy: it suffices to make me cautious by vaguely telling me that i have observed or read something opposed to the conclusion which i am drawing, or on the other hand in favour of it; and after a time i can generally recollect where to search for my authority. so poor in one sense is my memory, that i have never been able to remember for more than a few days a single date or a line of poetry. some of my critics have said, "oh, he is a good observer, but he has no power of reasoning!" i do not think that this can be true, for the _origin of species_ is one long argument from the beginning to the end, and it has convinced not a few able men. no one could have written it without having some power of reasoning. i have a fair share of invention, and of common sense or judgment, such as every fairly successful lawyer or doctor must have, but not, i believe, in any higher degree. on the favourable side of the balance, i think that i am superior to the common run of men in noticing things which easily escape attention, and in observing them carefully. my industry has been nearly as great as it could have been in the observation and collection of facts. what is far more important, my love of natural science has been steady and ardent. this pure love has, however, been much aided by the ambition to be esteemed by my fellow naturalists. from my early youth i have had the strongest desire to understand or explain whatever i observed,--that is, to group all facts under some general laws. these causes combined have given me the patience to reflect or ponder for any number of years over any unexplained problem. as far as i can judge, i am not apt to follow blindly the lead of other men. i have steadily endeavoured to keep my mind free so as to give up any hypothesis, however much beloved (and i cannot resist forming one on every subject), as soon as facts are shown to be opposed to it. indeed, i have had no choice but to act in this manner, for with the exception of the coral reefs, i cannot remember a single first-formed hypothesis which had not after a time to be given up or greatly modified. this has naturally led me to distrust greatly, deductive reasoning in the mixed sciences. on the other hand, i am not very sceptical,--a frame of mind which i believe to be injurious to the progress of science. a good deal of scepticism in a scientific man is advisable to avoid much loss of time, [but] i have met with not a few men, who, i feel sure, have often thus been deterred from experiment or observations, which would have proved directly or indirectly serviceable. in illustration, i will give the oddest case which i have known. a gentleman (who, as i afterwards heard, is a good local botanist) wrote to me from the eastern counties that the seeds or beans of the common field-bean had this year everywhere grown on the wrong side of the pod. i wrote back, asking for further information, as i did not understand what was meant; but i did not receive any answer for a very long time. i then saw in two newspapers, one published in kent and the other in yorkshire, paragraphs stating that it was a most remarkable fact that "the beans this year had all grown on the wrong side." so i thought there must be some foundation for so general a statement. accordingly, i went to my gardener, an old kentish man, and asked him whether he had heard anything about it, and he answered, "oh, no, sir, it must be a mistake, for the beans grow on the wrong side only on leap-year." i then asked him how they grew in common years and how on leap-years, but soon found that he knew absolutely nothing of how they grew at any time, but he stuck to his belief. after a time i heard from my first informant, who, with many apologies, said that he should not have written to me had he not heard the statement from several intelligent farmers; but that he had since spoken again to every one of them, and not one knew in the least what he had himself meant. so that here a belief--if indeed a statement with no definite idea attached to it can be called a belief--had spread over almost the whole of england without any vestige of evidence. i have known in the course of my life only three intentionally falsified statements, and one of these may have been a hoax (and there have been several scientific hoaxes) which, however, took in an american agricultural journal. it related to the formation in holland of a new breed of oxen by the crossing of distinct species of bos (some of which i happen to know are sterile together), and the author had the impudence to state that he had corresponded with me, and that i had been deeply impressed with the importance of his result. the article was sent to me by the editor of an english agricultural journal, asking for my opinion before republishing it. a second case was an account of several varieties, raised by the author from several species of primula, which had spontaneously yielded a full complement of seed, although the parent plants had been carefully protected from the access of insects. this account was published before i had discovered the meaning of heterostylism, and the whole statement must have been fraudulent, or there was neglect in excluding insects so gross as to be scarcely credible. the third case was more curious: mr. huth published in his book on 'consanguineous marriage' some long extracts from a belgian author, who stated that he had interbred rabbits in the closest manner for very many generations, without the least injurious effects. the account was published in a most respectable journal, that of the royal society of belgium; but i could not avoid feeling doubts--i hardly know why, except that there were no accidents of any kind, and my experience in breeding animals made me think this improbable. so with much hesitation i wrote to professor van beneden, asking him whether the author was a trustworthy man. i soon heard in answer that the society had been greatly shocked by discovering that the whole account was a fraud.[ ] the writer had been publicly challenged in the journal to say where he had resided and kept his large stock of rabbits while carrying on his experiments, which must have consumed several years, and no answer could be extracted from him. my habits are methodical, and this has been of not a little use for my particular line of work. lastly, i have had ample leisure from not having to earn my own bread. even ill-health, though it has annihilated several years of my life, has saved me from the distractions of society and amusement. therefore, my success as a man of science, whatever this may have amounted to, has been determined, as far as i can judge, by complex and diversified mental qualities and conditions. of these, the most important have been--the love of science--unbounded patience in long reflecting over any subject--industry in observing and collecting facts--and a fair share of invention as well as of common-sense. with such moderate abilities as i possess, it is truly surprising that i should have influenced to a considerable extent the belief of scientific men on some important points. footnotes: [ ] the late mr. hensleigh wedgwood's house in surrey. [ ] kept by rev. g. case, minister of the unitarian chapel in the high street. mrs. darwin was a unitarian and attended mr. case's chapel, and my father as a little boy went there with his elder sisters. but both he and his brother were christened and intended to belong to the church of england; and after his early boyhood he seems usually to have gone to church and not to mr. case's. it appears (_st. james's gazette_, december , ) that a mural tablet has been erected to his memory in the chapel, which is now known as the "free christian church."--f. d. [ ] rev. w. a. leighton remembers his bringing a flower to school and saying that his mother had taught him how by looking at the inside of the blossom the name of the plant could be discovered. mr. leighton goes on, "this greatly roused my attention and curiosity, and i inquired of him repeatedly how this could be done?"--but his lesson was naturally enough not transmissible.--f. d. [ ] his father wisely treated this tendency not by making crimes of the fibs, but by making light of the discoveries.--f. d. [ ] the house of his uncle, josiah wedgwood, the younger. [ ] it is curious that another shrewsbury boy should have been impressed by this military funeral; mr. gretton, in his _memory's harkback_, says that the scene is so strongly impressed on his mind that he could "walk straight to the spot in st. chad's churchyard where the poor fellow was buried." the soldier was an inniskilling dragoon, and the officer in command had been recently wounded at waterloo, where his corps did good service against the french cuirassiers. [ ] he lodged at mrs. mackay's, , lothian street. what little the records of edinburgh university can reveal has been published in the _edinburgh weekly dispatch_, may , ; and in the _st. james's gazette_, february , . from the latter journal it appears that he and his brother erasmus made more use of the library than was usual among the students of their time. [ ] i have heard him call to mind the pride he felt at the results of the successful treatment of a whole family with tartar emetic.--f. d. [ ] dr. coldstream died september , ; see crown mo. book tract. no. of the religious tract society (no date). [ ] the society was founded in , and expired about (_edinburgh weekly dispatch_, may , ). [ ] josiah wedgwood, the son of the founder of the etruria works. [ ] justum et tenacem propositi virum non civium ardor prava jubentium, non vultus instantis tyranni mente quatit solida. [ ] tenth in the list of january . [ ] i gather from some of my father's contemporaries that he has exaggerated the bacchanalian nature of those parties.--f. d. [ ] rev. c. whitley, hon. canon of durham, formerly reader in natural philosophy in durham university. [ ] the late john maurice herbert, county court judge of cardiff and the monmouth circuit. [ ] afterwards sir h. thompson, first baronet. [ ] the _cambridge ray club_, which in attained its fiftieth anniversary, is the direct descendant of these meetings, having been founded to fill the blank caused by the discontinuance, in , of henslow's friday evenings. see professor babington's pamphlet, _the cambridge ray club_, . [ ] mr. jenyns (now blomefield) described the fish for the _zoology of the voyage of h.m.s. beagle_; and is author of a long series of papers, chiefly zoological. in he printed, for private circulation, an autobiographical sketch, _chapters in my life_, and subsequently some (undated) addenda. the well-known soame jenyns was cousin to mr. jenyns' father. [ ] in connection with this tour my father used to tell a story about sedgwick: they had started from their inn one morning, and had walked a mile or two, when sedgwick suddenly stopped, and vowed that he would return, being certain "that damned scoundrel" (the waiter) had not given the chambermaid the sixpence intrusted to him for the purpose. he was ultimately persuaded to give up the project, seeing that there was no reason for suspecting the waiter of perfidy.--f. d. [ ] _philosophical magazine_, . [ ] josiah wedgwood. [ ] the count d'albanie's claim to royal descent has been shown to be baaed on a myth. see the _quarterly review_, , vol. lxxxi. p. ; also hayward's _biographical and critical essays_, , vol. ii. p. . [ ] read at the meeting held november , , and printed in a pamphlet of pp. for distribution among the members of the society. [ ] in fitzwilliam street. [ ] _geolog. soc. proc._ ii. , pp. - . [ ] , pp. - . [ ] _geolog. soc. proc._ iii. . [ ] _geolog. trans._ v. . [ ] _geolog. soc. proc._ ii. . [ ] _philosophical magazine_, . [ ] the slight repetition here observable is accounted for by the notes on lyell, &c., having been added in april, , a few years after the rest of the _recollections_ were written.--f. d. [ ] a passage referring to x. is here omitted.--f. d. [ ] _geological observations_, nd edit. . _coral reefs_, nd edit. [ ] published by the ray society. [ ] miss bird is mistaken, as i learn from professor mitsukuri.--f. d. [ ] _geolog. survey mem._, . [ ] between november and february , copies were sold.--f. d. [ ] the falseness of the published statements on which mr. huth relied were pointed out in a slip inserted in all the unsold copies of his book, _the marriage of near kin_.--f. d. chapter iii. religion. my father in his published works was reticent on the matter of religion, and what he has left on the subject was not written with a view to publication.[ ] i believe that his reticence arose from several causes. he felt strongly that a man's religion is an essentially private matter, and one concerning himself alone. this is indicated by the following extract from a letter of :--[ ] "what my own views may be is a question of no consequence to any one but myself. but, as you ask, i may state that my judgment often fluctuates.... in my most extreme fluctuations i have never been an atheist in the sense of denying the existence of a god. i think that generally (and more and more as i grow older), but not always, that an agnostic would be the more correct description of my state of mind." he naturally shrank from wounding the sensibilities of others in religious matters, and he was also influenced by the consciousness that a man ought not to publish on a subject to which he has not given special and continuous thought. that he felt this caution to apply to himself in the matter of religion is shown in a letter to dr. f. e. abbott, of cambridge, u.s. (september , ). after explaining that the weakness arising from bad health prevented him from feeling "equal to deep reflection, on the deepest subject which can fill a man's mind," he goes on to say: "with respect to my former notes to you, i quite forget their contents. i have to write many letters, and can reflect but little on what i write; but i fully believe and hope that i have never written a word, which at the time i did not think; but i think you will agree with me, that anything which is to be given to the public ought to be maturely weighed and cautiously put. it never occurred to me that you would wish to print any extract from my notes: if it had, i would have kept a copy. i put 'private' from habit, only as yet partially acquired, from some hasty notes of mine having been printed, which were not in the least degree worth printing, though otherwise unobjectionable. it is simply ridiculous to suppose that my former note to you would be worth sending to me, with any part marked which you desire to print; but if you like to do so, i will at once say whether i should have any objection. i feel in some degree unwilling to express myself publicly on religious subjects, as i do not feel that i have thought deeply enough to justify any publicity." what follows is from another letter to dr. abbott (november , ), in which my father gives more fully his reasons for not feeling competent to write on religious and moral subjects:-- "i can say with entire truth that i feel honoured by your request that i should become a contributor to the _index_, and am much obliged for the draft. i fully, also, subscribe to the proposition that it is the duty of every one to spread what he believes to be the truth; and i honour you for doing so, with so much devotion and zeal. but i cannot comply with your request for the following reasons; and excuse me for giving them in some detail, as i should be very sorry to appear in your eyes ungracious. my health is very weak: i _never_ pass hours without many hours of discomfort, when i can do nothing whatever. i have thus, also, lost two whole consecutive months this season. owing to this weakness, and my head being often giddy, i am unable to master new subjects requiring much thought, and can deal only with old materials. at no time am i a quick thinker or writer: whatever i have done in science has solely been by long pondering, patience and industry. "now i have never systematically thought much on religion in relation to science, or on morals in relation to society; and without steadily keeping my mind on such subjects for a long period, i am really incapable of writing anything worth sending to the _index_." he was more than once asked to give his views on religion, and he had, as a rule, no objection to doing so in a private letter. thus, in answer to a dutch student, he wrote (april , ):-- "i am sure you will excuse my writing at length, when i tell you that i have long been much out of health, and am now staying away from my home for rest. "it is impossible to answer your question briefly; and i am not sure that i could do so, even if i wrote at some length. but i may say that the impossibility of conceiving that this grand and wondrous universe, with our conscious selves, arose through chance, seems to me the chief argument for the existence of god; but whether this is an argument of real value, i have never been able to decide. i am aware that if we admit a first cause, the mind still craves to know whence it came, and how it arose. nor can i overlook the difficulty from the immense amount of suffering through the world. i am, also, induced to defer to a certain extent to the judgment of the many able men who have fully believed in god; but here again i see how poor an argument this is. the safest conclusion seems to me that the whole subject is beyond the scope of man's intellect; but man can do his duty." again in he was applied to by a german student, in a similar manner. the letter was answered by a member of my father's family, who wrote:-- "mr. darwin begs me to say that he receives so many letters, that he cannot answer them all. "he considers that the theory of evolution is quite compatible with the belief in a god; but that you must remember that different persons have different definitions of what they mean by god." this, however, did not satisfy the german youth, who again wrote to my father, and received from him the following reply:-- "i am much engaged, an old man, and out of health, and i cannot spare time to answer your questions fully,--nor indeed can they be answered. science has nothing to do with christ, except in so far as the habit of scientific research makes a man cautious in admitting evidence. for myself, i do not believe that there ever has been any revelation. as for a future life, every man must judge for himself between conflicting vague probabilities." the passages which here follow are extracts, somewhat abbreviated, from a part of the autobiography, written in , in which my father gives the history of his religious views:-- "during these two years[ ] i was led to think much about religion. whilst on board the _beagle_ i was quite orthodox, and i remember being heartily laughed at by several of the officers (though themselves orthodox) for quoting the bible as an unanswerable authority on some point of morality. i suppose it was the novelty of the argument that amused them. but i had gradually come by this time, _i.e._ to , to see that the old testament was no more to be trusted than the sacred books of the hindoos. the question then continually rose before my mind and would not be banished,--is it credible that if god were now to make a revelation to the hindoos, he would permit it to be connected with the belief in vishnu, siva, &c., as christianity is connected with the old testament? this appeared to me utterly incredible. "by further reflecting that the clearest evidence would be requisite to make any sane man believe in the miracles by which christianity is supported,--and that the more we know of the fixed laws of nature the more incredible do miracles become,--that the men at that time were ignorant and credulous to a degree almost incomprehensible by us,--that the gospels cannot be proved to have been written simultaneously with the events,--that they differ in many important details, far too important, as it seemed to me, to be admitted as the usual inaccuracies of eye-witnesses;--by such reflections as these, which i give not as having the least novelty or value, but as they influenced me, i gradually came to disbelieve in christianity as a divine revelation. the fact that many false religions have spread over large portions of the earth like wildfire had some weight with me. "but i was very unwilling to give up my belief; i feel sure of this, for i can well remember often and often inventing day-dreams of old letters between distinguished romans, and manuscripts being discovered at pompeii or elsewhere, which confirmed in the most striking manner all that was written in the gospels. but i found it more and more difficult, with free scope given to my imagination, to invent evidence which would suffice to convince me. thus disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but was at last complete. the rate was so slow that i felt no distress. "although i did not think much about the existence of a personal god until a considerably later period of my life, i will here give the vague conclusions to which i have been driven. the old argument from design in nature, as given by paley, which formerly seemed to me so conclusive, fails, now that the law of natural selection has been discovered. we can no longer argue that, for instance, the beautiful hinge of a bivalve shell must have been made by an intelligent being, like the hinge of a door by man. there seems to be no more design in the variability of organic beings, and in the action of natural selection, than in the course which the wind blows. but i have discussed this subject at the end of my book on the _variation of domesticated animals and plants_,[ ] and the argument there given has never, as far as i can see, been answered. "but passing over the endless beautiful adaptations which we everywhere meet with, it may be asked how can the generally beneficent arrangement of the world be accounted for? some writers indeed are so much impressed with the amount of suffering in the world, that they doubt, if we look to all sentient beings, whether there is more of misery or of happiness; whether the world as a whole is a good or a bad one. according to my judgment happiness decidedly prevails, though this would be very difficult to prove. if the truth of this conclusion be granted, it harmonizes well with the effects which we might expect from natural selection. if all the individuals of any species were habitually to suffer to an extreme degree, they would neglect to propagate their kind; but we have no reason to believe that this has ever, or at least often occurred. some other considerations, moreover, lead to the belief that all sentient beings have been formed so as to enjoy, as a general rule, happiness. "every one who believes, as i do, that all the corporeal and mental organs (excepting those which are neither advantageous nor disadvantageous to the possessor) of all beings have been developed through natural selection, or the survival of the fittest, together with use or habit, will admit that these organs have been formed so that their possessors may compete successfully with other beings, and thus increase in number. now an animal may be led to pursue that course of action which is most beneficial to the species by suffering, such as pain, hunger, thirst, and fear; or by pleasure, as in eating and drinking, and in the propagation of the species, &c.; or by both means combined, as in the search for food. but pain or suffering of any kind, if long continued, causes depression and lessens the power of action, yet is well adapted to make a creature guard itself against any great or sudden evil. pleasurable sensations, on the other hand, may be long continued without any depressing effect; on the contrary, they stimulate the whole system to increased action. hence it has come to pass that most or all sentient beings have been developed in such a manner, through natural selection, that pleasurable sensations serve as their habitual guides. we see this in the pleasure from exertion, even occasionally from great exertion of the body or mind,--in the pleasure of our daily meals, and especially in the pleasure derived from sociability, and from loving our families. the sum of such pleasures as these, which are habitual or frequently recurrent, give, as i can hardly doubt, to most sentient beings an excess of happiness over misery, although many occasionally suffer much. such suffering is quite compatible with the belief in natural selection, which is not perfect in its action, but tends only to render each species as successful as possible in the battle for life with other species, in wonderfully complex and changing circumstances. "that there is much suffering in the world no one disputes. some have attempted to explain this with reference to man by imagining that it serves for his moral improvement. but the number of men in the world is as nothing compared with that of all other sentient beings, and they often suffer greatly without any moral improvement. this very old argument from the existence of suffering against the existence of an intelligent first cause seems to me a strong one; whereas, as just remarked, the presence of much suffering agrees well with the view that all organic beings have been developed through variation and natural selection. "at the present day the most usual argument for the existence of an intelligent god is drawn from the deep inward conviction and feelings which are experienced by most persons. "formerly i was led by feelings such as those just referred to (although i do not think that the religious sentiment was ever strongly developed in me), to the firm conviction of the existence of god and of the immortality of the soul. in my journal i wrote that whilst standing in the midst of the grandeur of a brazilian forest, 'it is not possible to give an adequate idea of the higher feelings of wonder, admiration, and devotion which fill and elevate the mind.' i well remember my conviction that there is more in man than the mere breath of his body; but now the grandest scenes would not cause any such convictions and feelings to rise in my mind. it may be truly said that i am like a man who has become colour-blind, and the universal belief by men of the existence of redness makes my present loss of perception of not the least value as evidence. this argument would be a valid one if all men of all races had the same inward conviction of the existence of one god; but we know that this is very far from being the case. therefore i cannot see that such inward convictions and feelings are of any weight as evidence of what really exists. the state of mind which grand scenes formerly excited in me, and which was intimately connected with a belief in god, did not essentially differ from that which is often called the sense of sublimity; and however difficult it may be to explain the genesis of this sense, it can hardly be advanced as an argument for the existence of god, any more than the powerful though vague and similar feelings excited by music. "with respect to immortality, nothing, shows me [so clearly] how strong and almost instinctive a belief it is as the consideration of the view now held by most physicists, namely, that the sun with all the planets will in time grow too cold for life, unless indeed some great body dashes into the sun and thus gives it fresh life. believing as i do that man in the distant future will be a far more perfect creature than he now is, it is an intolerable thought that he and all other sentient beings are doomed to complete annihilation after such long-continued slow progress. to those who fully admit the immortality of the human soul, the destruction of our world will not appear so dreadful. "another source of conviction in the existence of god, connected with the reason and not with the feelings, impresses me as having much more weight. this follows from the extreme difficulty or rather impossibility of conceiving this immense and wonderful universe, including man with his capacity of looking far backwards and far into futurity, as the result of blind chance or necessity. when thus reflecting, i feel compelled to look to a first cause having an intelligent mind in some degree analogous to that of man; and i deserve to be called a theist. this conclusion was strong in my mind about the time, as far as i can remember, when i wrote the _origin of species_, and it is since that time that it has very gradually, with many fluctuations, become weaker. but then arises the doubt--can the mind of man, which has, as i fully believe, been developed from a mind as low as that possessed by the lowest animals, be trusted when it draws such grand conclusions? "i cannot pretend to throw the least light on such abstruse problems. the mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us, and i for one must be content to remain an agnostic." the following letters repeat to some extent what is given above from the _autobiography_. the first one refers to _the boundaries of science: a dialogue_, published in _macmillan's magazine_, for july . _c. d. to miss julia wedgwood_, july [ ]. some one has sent us _macmillan_, and i must tell you how much i admire your article, though at the same time i must confess that i could not clearly follow you in some parts, which probably is in main part due to my not being at all accustomed to metaphysical trains of thought. i think that you understand my book[ ] perfectly, and that i find a very rare event with my critics. the ideas in the last page have several times vaguely crossed my mind. owing to several correspondents, i have been led lately to think, or rather to try to think, over some of the chief points discussed by you. but the result has been with me a maze--something like thinking on the origin of evil, to which you allude. the mind refuses to look at this universe, being what it is, without having been designed; yet, where one would most expect design, viz. in the structure of a sentient being, the more i think on the subject, the less i can see proof of design. asa gray and some others look at each variation, or at least at each beneficial variation (which a. gray would compare with the raindrops[ ] which do not fall on the sea, but on to the land to fertilise it) as having been providentially designed. yet when i ask him whether he looks at each variation in the rock-pigeon, by which man has made by accumulation a pouter or fantail pigeon, as providentially designed for man's amusement, he does not know what to answer; and if he, or any one, admits [that] these variations are accidental, as far as purpose is concerned (of course not accidental as to their cause or origin), then i can see no reason why he should rank the accumulated variations by which the beautifully-adapted woodpecker has been formed as providentially designed. for it would be easy to imagine the enlarged crop of the pouter, or tail of the fantail, as of some use to birds, in a state of nature, having peculiar habits of life. these are the considerations which perplex me about design; but whether you will care to hear them, i know not. on the subject of design, he wrote (july ) to dr. gray: "one word more on 'designed laws' and 'undesigned results.' i see a bird which i want for food, take my gun and kill it, i do this _designedly_. an innocent and good man stands under a tree and is killed by a flash of lightning. do you believe (and i really should like to hear) that god _designedly_ killed this man? many or most persons do believe this; i can't and don't. if you believe so, do you believe that when a swallow snaps up a gnat that god designed that that particular swallow should snap up that particular gnat at that particular instant? i believe that the man and the gnat are in the same predicament. if the death of neither man nor gnat is designed, i see no good reason to believe that their _first_ birth or production should be necessarily designed." _c. d. to w. graham._ down, july rd, . dear sir,--i hope that you will not think it intrusive on my part to thank you heartily for the pleasure which i have derived from reading your admirably-written _creed of science_, though i have not yet quite finished it, as now that i am old i read very slowly. it is a very long time since any other book has interested me so much. the work must have cost you several years and much hard labour with full leisure for work. you would not probably expect any one fully to agree with you on so many abstruse subjects; and there are some points in your book which i cannot digest. the chief one is that the existence of so-called natural laws implies purpose. i cannot see this. not to mention that many expect that the several great laws will some day be found to follow inevitably from some one single law, yet taking the laws as we now know them, and look at the moon, where the law of gravitation--and no doubt of the conservation of energy--of the atomic theory, &c., &c., hold good, and i cannot see that there is then necessarily any purpose. would there be purpose if the lowest organisms alone, destitute of consciousness, existed in the moon? but i have had no practice in abstract reasoning, and i may be all astray. nevertheless you have expressed my inward conviction, though far more vividly and clearly than i could have done, that the universe is not the result of chance.[ ] but then with me the horrid doubt always arises whether the convictions of man's mind, which has been developed from the mind of the lower animals, are of any value or at all trustworthy. would any one trust in the convictions of a monkey's mind, if there are any convictions in such a mind? secondly, i think that i could make somewhat of a case against the enormous importance which you attribute to our greatest men; i have been accustomed to think second, third, and fourth-rate men of very high importance, at least in the case of science. lastly, i could show fight on natural selection having done and doing more for the progress of civilisation than you seem inclined to admit. remember what risk the nations of europe ran, not so many centuries ago, of being overwhelmed by the turks, and how ridiculous such an idea now is! the more civilised so-called caucasian races have beaten the turkish hollow in the struggle for existence. looking to the world at no very distant date, what an endless number of the lower races will have been eliminated by the higher civilised races throughout the world. but i will write no more, and not even mention the many points in your work which have much interested me. i have indeed cause to apologise for troubling you with my impressions, and my sole excuse is the excitement in my mind which your book has aroused. i beg leave to remain, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged. darwin spoke little on these subjects, and i can contribute nothing from my own recollection of his conversation which can add to the impression here given of his attitude towards religion.[ ] some further idea of his views may, however, be gathered from occasional remarks in his letters. footnotes: [ ] as an exception, may be mentioned, a few words of concurrence with dr. abbott's _truths for the times_, which my father allowed to be published in the _index_. [ ] addressed to mr. j. fordyce, and published by him in his _aspects of scepticism_, . [ ] october to january . [ ] my father asks whether we are to believe that the forms are preordained of the broken fragments of rock which are fitted together by man to build his houses. if not, why should we believe that the variations of domestic animals or plants are preordained for the sake of the breeder? "but if we give up the principle in one case, ... no shadow of reason can be assigned for the belief that variations alike in nature and the result of the same general laws, which have been the groundwork through natural selection of the formation of the most perfectly adapted animals in the world, man included, were intentionally and specially guided."--_variation of animals and plants_, st edit. vol. ii. p. .--f. d. [ ] the _origin of species_. [ ] dr. gray's rain-drop metaphor occurs in the essay, _darwin and his reviewers_ (_darwiniana_, p. ): "the whole animate life of a country depends absolutely upon the vegetation, the vegetation upon the rain. the moisture is furnished by the ocean, is raised by the sun's heat from the ocean's surface, and is wafted inland by the winds. but what multitudes of rain-drops fall back into the ocean--are as much without a final cause as the incipient varieties which come to nothing! does it therefore follow that the rains which are bestowed upon the soil with such rule and average regularity were not designed to support vegetable and animal life?" [ ] the duke of argyll (_good words_, april , p. ) has recorded a few words on this subject, spoken by my father in the last year of his life. " ... in the course of that conversation i said to mr. darwin, with reference to some of his own remarkable works on the _fertilisation of orchids_, and upon _the earthworms_, and various other observations he made of the wonderful contrivances for certain purposes in nature--i said it was impossible to look at these without seeing that they were the effect and the expression of mind. i shall never forget mr. darwin's answer. he looked at me very hard and said, 'well, that often comes over me with overwhelming force; but at other times,' and he shook his head vaguely, adding, 'it seems to go away.'" [ ] dr. aveling has published an account of a conversation with my father. i think that the readers of this pamphlet (_the religious views of charles darwin_, free thought publishing company, ) may be misled into seeing more resemblance than really existed between the positions of my father and dr. aveling: and i say this in spite of my conviction that dr. aveling gives quite fairly his impressions of my father's views. dr. aveling tried to show that the terms "agnostic" and "atheist" are practically equivalent--that an atheist is one who, without denying the existence of god, is without god, inasmuch as he is unconvinced of the existence of a deity. my father's replies implied his preference for the unaggressive attitude of an agnostic. dr. aveling seems (p. ) to regard the absence of aggressiveness in my father's views as distinguishing them in an unessential manner from his own. but, in my judgment, it is precisely differences of this kind which distinguish him so completely from the class of thinkers to which dr. aveling belongs. [illustration: the study at down.[ ]] chapter iv. reminiscences of my father's everyday life. it is my wish in the present chapter to give some idea of my father's everyday life. it has seemed to me that i might carry out this object in the form of a rough sketch of a day's life at down, interspersed with such recollections as are called up by the record. many of these recollections, which have a meaning for those who knew my father, will seem colourless or trifling to strangers. nevertheless, i give them in the hope that they may help to preserve that impression of his personality which remains on the minds of those who knew and loved him--an impression at once so vivid and so untranslatable into words. of his personal appearance (in these days of multiplied photographs) it is hardly necessary to say much. he was about six feet in height, but scarcely looked so tall, as he stooped a good deal; in later days he yielded to the stoop; but i can remember seeing him long ago swinging back his arms to open out his chest, and holding himself upright with a jerk. he gave one the idea that he had been active rather than strong; his shoulders were not broad for his height, though certainly not narrow. as a young man he must have had much endurance, for on one of the shore excursions from the _beagle_, when all were suffering from want of water, he was one of the two who were better able than the rest to struggle on in search of it. as a boy he was active, and could jump a bar placed at the height of the "adam's apple" in his neck. he walked with a swinging action, using a stick heavily shod with iron, which he struck loudly against the ground, producing as he went round the "sand-walk" at down, a rhythmical click which is with all of us a very distinct remembrance. as he returned from the midday walk, often carrying the waterproof or cloak which had proved too hot, one could see that the swinging step was kept up by something of an effort. indoors his step was often slow and laboured, and as he went upstairs in the afternoon he might be heard mounting the stairs with a heavy footfall, as if each step were an effort. when interested in his work he moved about quickly and easily enough, and often in the midst of dictating he went eagerly into the hall to get a pinch of snuff, leaving the study door open, and calling out the last words of his sentence as he left the room. in spite of his activity, he had, i think, no natural grace or neatness of movement. he was awkward with his hands, and was unable to draw at all well.[ ] this he always regretted, and he frequently urged the paramount necessity to a young naturalist of making himself a good draughtsman. he could dissect well under the simple microscope, but i think it was by dint of his great patience and carefulness. it was characteristic of him that he thought any little bit of skilful dissection something almost superhuman. he used to speak with admiration of the skill with which he saw newport dissect a humble bee, getting out the nervous system with a few cuts of a pair of fine scissors. he used to consider cutting microscopic sections a great feat, and in the last year of his life, with wonderful energy, took the pains to learn to cut sections of roots and leaves. his hand was not steady enough to hold the object to be cut, and he employed a common microtome, in which the pith for holding the object was clamped, and the razor slid on a glass surface. he used to laugh at himself, and at his own skill in section-cutting, at which he would say he was "speechless with admiration." on the other hand, he must have had accuracy of eye and power of co-ordinating his movements, since he was a good shot with a gun as a young man, and as a boy was skilful in throwing. he once killed a hare sitting in the flower-garden at shrewsbury by throwing a marble at it, and, as a man, he killed a cross-beak with a stone. he was so unhappy at having uselessly killed the cross-beak that he did not mention it for years, and then explained that he should never have thrown at it if he had not felt sure that his old skill had gone from him. his beard was full and almost untrimmed, the hair being grey and white, fine rather than coarse, and wavy or frizzled. his moustache was somewhat disfigured by being cut short and square across. he became very bald, having only a fringe of dark hair behind. his face was ruddy in colour, and this perhaps made people think him less of an invalid than he was. he wrote to sir joseph hooker (june , ), "every one tells me that i look quite blooming and beautiful; and most think i am shamming, but you have never been one of those." and it must be remembered that at this time he was miserably ill, far worse than in later years. his eyes were bluish grey under deep overhanging brows, with thick, bushy projecting eye-brows. his high forehead was deeply wrinkled, but otherwise his face was not much marked or lined. his expression showed no signs of the continual discomfort he suffered. when he was excited with pleasant talk his whole manner was wonderfully bright and animated, and his face shared to the full in the general animation. his laugh was a free and sounding peal, like that of a man who gives himself sympathetically and with enjoyment to the person and the thing which have amused him. he often used some sort of gesture with his laugh, lifting up his hands or bringing one down with a slap. i think, generally speaking, he was given to gesture, and often used his hands in explaining anything (_e.g._ the fertilisation of a flower) in a way that seemed rather an aid to himself than to the listener. he did this on occasions when most people would illustrate their explanations by means of a rough pencil sketch. he wore dark clothes, of a loose and easy fit. of late years he gave up the tall hat even in london, and wore a soft black one in winter, and a big straw hat in summer. his usual out-of-doors dress was the short cloak in which elliot and fry's photograph[ ] represents him, leaning against the pillar of the verandah. two peculiarities of his indoor dress were that he almost always wore a shawl over his shoulders, and that he had great loose cloth boots lined with fur which he could slip on over his indoor shoes. he rose early, and took a short turn before breakfast, a habit which began when he went for the first time to a water-cure establishment, and was preserved till almost the end of his life. i used, as a little boy, to like going out with him, and i have a vague sense of the red of the winter sunrise, and a recollection of the pleasant companionship, and a certain honour and glory in it. he used to delight me as a boy by telling me how, in still earlier walks, on dark winter mornings, he had once or twice met foxes trotting home at the dawning. after breakfasting alone about . , he went to work at once, considering the ½ hour between and . one of his best working times. at . he came in to the drawing-room for his letters--rejoicing if the post was a light one and being sometimes much worried if it was not. he would then hear any family letters read aloud as he lay on the sofa. the reading aloud, which also included part of a novel, lasted till about half-past ten, when he went back to work till twelve or a quarter past. by this time he considered his day's work over, and would often say, in a satisfied voice, "_i've_ done a good day's work." he then went out of doors whether it was wet or fine; polly, his white terrier, went with him in fair weather, but in rain she refused or might be seen hesitating in the verandah, with a mixed expression of disgust and shame at her own want of courage; generally, however, her conscience carried the day, and as soon as he was evidently gone she could not bear to stay behind. my father was always fond of dogs, and as a young man had the power of stealing away the affections of his sister's pets; at cambridge, he won the love of his cousin w. d. fox's dog, and this may perhaps have been the little beast which used to creep down inside his bed and sleep at the foot every night. my father had a surly dog, who was devoted to him, but unfriendly to every one else, and when he came back from the _beagle_ voyage, the dog remembered him, but in a curious way, which my father was fond of telling. he went into the yard and shouted in his old manner; the dog rushed out and set off with him on his walk, showing no more emotion or excitement than if the same thing had happened the day before, instead of five years ago. this story is made use of in the _descent of man_, nd edit. p. . in my memory there were only two dogs which had much connection with my father. one was a large black and white half-bred retriever, called bob, to which we, as children, were much devoted. he was the dog of whom the story of the "hot-house face" is told in the _expression of the emotions_. but the dog most closely associated with my father was the above-mentioned polly, a rough, white fox-terrier. she was a sharp-witted, affectionate dog; when her master was going away on a journey, she always discovered the fact by the signs of packing going on in the study, and became low-spirited accordingly. she began, too, to be excited by seeing the study prepared for his return home. she was a cunning little creature, and used to tremble or put on an air of misery when my father passed, while she was waiting for dinner, just as if she knew that he would say (as he did often say) that "she was famishing." my father used to make her catch biscuits off her nose, and had an affectionate and mock-solemn way of explaining to her before-hand that she must "be a very good girl." she had a mark on her back where she had been burnt, and where the hair had re-grown red instead of white, and my father used to commend her for this tuft of hair as being in accordance with his theory of pangenesis; her father had been a red bull-terrier, thus the red hair appearing after the burn showed the presence of latent red gemmules. he was delightfully tender to polly, and never showed any impatience at the attentions she required, such as to be let in at the door, or out at the verandah window, to bark at "naughty people," a self-imposed duty she much enjoyed. she died, or rather had to be killed, a few days after his death.[ ] my father's mid-day walk generally began by a call at the greenhouse, where he looked at any germinating seeds or experimental plants which required a casual examination, but he hardly ever did any serious observing at this time. then he went on for his constitutional--either round the "sand-walk," or outside his own grounds in the immediate neighbourhood of the house. the "sand-walk" was a narrow strip of land ½ acre in extent, with a gravel-walk round it. on one side of it was a broad old shaw with fair-sized oaks in it, which made a sheltered shady walk; the other side was separated from a neighbouring grass field by a low quickset hedge, over which you could look at what view there was, a quiet little valley losing itself in the upland country towards the edge of the westerham hill, with hazel coppice and larch plantation, the remnants of what was once a large wood, stretching away to the westerham high road. i have heard my father say that the charm of this simple little valley was a decided factor in his choice of a home. the sand-walk was planted by my father with a variety of trees, such as hazel, alder, lime, hornbeam, birch, privet, and dogwood, and with a long line of hollies all down the exposed side. in earlier times he took a certain number of turns every day, and used to count them by means of a heap of flints, one of which he kicked out on the path each time he passed. of late years i think he did not keep to any fixed number of turns, but took as many as he felt strength for. the sand-walk was our play-ground as children, and here we continually saw my father as he walked round. he liked to see what we were doing, and was ever ready to sympathize in any fun that was going on. it is curious to think how, with regard to the sand-walk in connection with my father, my earliest recollections coincide with my latest; it shows the unvarying character of his habits. sometimes when alone he stood still or walked stealthily to observe birds or beasts. it was on one of these occasions that some young squirrels ran up his back and legs, while their mother barked at them in an agony from the tree. he always found birds' nests even up to the last years of his life, and we, as children, considered that he had a special genius in this direction. in his quiet prowls he came across the less common birds, but i fancy he used to conceal it from me as a little boy, because he observed the agony of mind which i endured at not having seen the siskin or goldfinch, or some other of the less common birds. he used to tell us how, when he was creeping noiselessly along in the "big-woods," he came upon a fox asleep in the daytime, which was so much astonished that it took a good stare at him before it ran off. a spitz dog which accompanied him showed no sign of excitement at the fox, and he used to end the story by wondering how the dog could have been so faint-hearted. another favourite place was "orchis bank," above the quiet cudham valley, where fly- and musk-orchis grew among the junipers, and cephalanthera and neottia under the beech boughs; the little wood "hangrove," just above this, he was also fond of, and here i remember his collecting grasses, when he took a fancy to make out the names of all the common kinds. he was fond of quoting the saying of one of his little boys, who, having found a grass that his father had not seen before, had it laid by his own plate during dinner, remarking, "i are an extraordinary grass-finder!" my father much enjoyed wandering idly in the garden with my mother or some of his children, or making one of a party, sitting on a bench on the lawn; he generally sat, however, on the grass, and i remember him often lying under one of the big lime-trees, with his head on the green mound at its foot. in dry summer weather, when we often sat out, the fly-wheel of the well was commonly heard spinning round, and so the sound became associated with those pleasant days. he used to like to watch us playing at lawn-tennis, and often knocked up a stray ball for us with the curved handle of his stick. though he took no personal share in the management of the garden, he had great delight in the beauty of flowers--for instance, in the mass of azaleas which generally stood in the drawing-room. i think he sometimes fused together his admiration of the structure of a flower and of its intrinsic beauty; for instance, in the case of the big pendulous pink and white flowers of diclytra. in the same way he had an affection, half-artistic, half-botanical, for the little blue lobelia. in admiring flowers, he would often laugh at the dingy high-art colours, and contrast them with the bright tints of nature. i used to like to hear him admire the beauty of a flower; it was a kind of gratitude to the flower itself, and a personal love for its delicate form and colour. i seem to remember him gently touching a flower he delighted in; it was the same simple admiration that a child might have. he could not help personifying natural things. this feeling came out in abuse as well as in praise--_e.g._ of some seedlings--"the little beggars are doing just what i don't want them to." he would speak in a half-provoked, half-admiring way of the ingenuity of the leaf of a sensitive plant in screwing itself out of a basin of water in which he had tried to fix it. one might see the same spirit in his way of speaking of sundew, earthworms, &c.[ ] within my memory, his only outdoor recreation, besides walking, was riding; this was taken up at the recommendation of dr. bence jones, and we had the luck to find for him the easiest and quietest cob in the world, named "tommy." he enjoyed these rides extremely, and devised a series of short rounds which brought him home in time for lunch. our country is good for this purpose, owing to the number of small valleys which give a variety to what in a flat country would be a dull loop of road. i think he felt surprised at himself, when he remembered how bold a rider he had been, and how utterly old age and bad health had taken away his nerve. he would say that riding prevented him thinking much more effectually than walking--that having to attend to the horse gave him occupation sufficient to prevent any really hard thinking. and the change of scene which it gave him was good for spirits and health. if i go beyond my own experience, and recall what i have heard him say of his love for sport, &c., i can think of a good deal, but much of it would be a repetition of what is contained in his _recollections_. he was fond of his gun as quite a boy, and became a good shot; he used to tell how in south america he killed twenty-three snipe in twenty-four shots. in telling the story he was careful to add that he thought they were not quite so wild as english snipe. luncheon at down came after his mid-day walk; and here i may say a word or two about his meals generally. he had a boy-like love of sweets, unluckily for himself, since he was constantly forbidden to take them. he was not particularly successful in keeping the "vows," as he called them, which he made against eating sweets, and never considered them binding unless he made them aloud. he drank very little wine, but enjoyed and was revived by the little he did drink. he had a horror of drinking, and constantly warned his boys that any one might be led into drinking too much. i remember, in my innocence as a small boy, asking him if he had been ever tipsy; and he answered very gravely that he was ashamed to say he had once drunk too much at cambridge. i was much impressed, so that i know now the place where the question was asked. after his lunch he read the newspaper, lying on the sofa in the drawing-room. i think the paper was the only non-scientific matter which he read to himself. everything else, novels, travels, history, was read aloud to him. he took so wide an interest in life, that there was much to occupy him in newspapers, though he laughed at the wordiness of the debates, reading them, i think, only in abstract. his interest in politics was considerable, but his opinion on these matters was formed rather by the way than with any serious amount of thought. after he had read his paper, came his time for writing letters. these, as well as the ms. of his books, were written by him as he sat in a huge horse-hair chair by the fire, his paper supported on a board resting on the arms of the chair. when he had many or long letters to write, he would dictate them from a rough copy; these rough copies were written on the backs of manuscript or of proof-sheets, and were almost illegible, sometimes even to himself. he made a rule of keeping all letters that he received; this was a habit which he learnt from his father, and which he said had been of great use to him. many letters were addressed to him by foolish, unscrupulous people, and all of these received replies. he used to say that if he did not answer them, he had it on his conscience afterwards, and no doubt it was in great measure the courtesy with which he answered every one which produced the widespread sense of his kindness of nature which was so evident on his death. he was considerate to his correspondents in other and lesser things--for instance, when dictating a letter to a foreigner, he hardly ever failed to say to me, "you'd better try and write well, as it's to a foreigner." his letters were generally written on the assumption that they would be carelessly read; thus, when he was dictating, he was careful to tell me to make an important clause begin with an obvious paragraph, "to catch his eye," as he often said. how much he thought of the trouble he gave others by asking questions, will be well enough shown by his letters. he had a printed form to be used in replying to troublesome correspondents, but he hardly ever used it; i suppose he never found an occasion that seemed exactly suitable. i remember an occasion on which it might have been used with advantage. he received a letter from a stranger stating that the writer had undertaken to uphold evolution at a debating society, and that being a busy young man, without time for reading, he wished to have a sketch of my father's views. even this wonderful young man got a civil answer, though i think he did not get much material for his speech. his rule was to thank the donors of books, but not of pamphlets. he sometimes expressed surprise that so few thanked him for his books which he gave away liberally; the letters that he did receive gave him much pleasure, because he habitually formed so humble an estimate of the value of all his works, that he was genuinely surprised at the interest which they excited. in money and business matters he was remarkably careful and exact. he kept accounts with great care, classifying them, and balancing at the end of the year like a merchant. i remember the quick way in which he would reach out for his account-book to enter each cheque paid, as though he were in a hurry to get it entered before he had forgotten it. his father must have allowed him to believe that he would be poorer than he really was, for some of the difficulty experienced over finding a house in the country must have arisen from the modest sum he felt prepared to give. yet he knew, of course, that he would be in easy circumstances, for in his _recollections_ he mentions this as one of the reasons for his not having worked at medicine with so much zeal as he would have done if he had been obliged to gain his living. he had a pet economy in paper, but it was rather a hobby than a real economy. all the blank sheets of letters received were kept in a portfolio to be used in making notes; it was his respect for paper that made him write so much on the backs of his old ms., and in this way, unfortunately, he destroyed large parts of the original ms. of his books. his feeling about paper extended to waste paper, and he objected, half in fun, to the habit of throwing a spill into the fire after it had been used for lighting a candle. he had a great respect for pure business capacity, and often spoke with admiration of a relative who had doubled his fortune. and of himself would often say in fun that what he really _was_ proud of was the money he had saved. he also felt satisfaction in the money he made by his books. his anxiety to save came in great measure from his fears that his children would not have health enough to earn their own livings, a foreboding which fairly haunted him for many years. and i have a dim recollection of his saying, "thank god, you'll have bread and cheese," when i was so young that i was inclined to take it literally. when letters were finished, about three in the afternoon, he rested in his bedroom, lying on the sofa, smoking a cigarette, and listening to a novel or other book not scientific. he only smoked when resting, whereas snuff was a stimulant, and was taken during working hours. he took snuff for many years of his life, having learnt the habit at edinburgh as a student. he had a nice silver snuff-box given him by mrs. wedgwood, of maer, which he valued much--but he rarely carried it, because it tempted him to take too many pinches. in one of his early letters he speaks of having given up snuff for a month, and describes himself as feeling "most lethargic, stupid, and melancholy." our former neighbour and clergyman, mr. brodie innes, tells me that at one time my father made a resolve not to take snuff, except away from home, "a most satisfactory arrangement for me," he adds, "as i kept a box in my study, to which there was access from the garden without summoning servants, and i had more frequently, than might have been otherwise the case, the privilege of a few minutes' conversation with my dear friend." he generally took snuff from a jar on the hall-table, because having to go this distance for a pinch was a slight check; the clink of the lid of the snuff-jar was a very familiar sound. sometimes when he was in the drawing-room, it would occur to him that the study fire must be burning low, and when one of us offered to see after it, it would turn out that he also wished to get a pinch of snuff. smoking he only took to permanently of late years, though on his pampas rides he learned to smoke with the gauchos, and i have heard him speak of the great comfort of a cup of _maté_ and a cigarette when he halted after a long ride and was unable to get food for some time. he came down at four o'clock to dress for his walk, and he was so regular that one might be quite certain it was within a few minutes of four when his descending steps were heard. from about half-past four to half-past five he worked; then he came to the drawing-room, and was idle till it was time (about six) to go up for another rest with novel-reading and a cigarette. latterly he gave up late dinner, and had a simple tea at half-past seven (while we had dinner), with an egg or a small piece of meat. after dinner he never stayed in the room, and used to apologise by saying he was an old woman who must be allowed to leave with the ladies. this was one of the many signs and results of his constant weakness and ill-health. half an hour more or less conversation would make to him the difference of a sleepless night and of the loss perhaps of half the next day's work. after dinner he played backgammon with my mother, two games being played every night. for many years a score of the games which each won was kept, and in this score he took the greatest interest. he became extremely animated over these games, bitterly lamenting his bad luck and exploding with exaggerated mock-anger at my mother's good fortune. after playing backgammon he read some scientific book to himself, either in the drawing-room, or, if much talking was going on, in the study. in the evening--that is, after he had read as much as his strength would allow, and before the reading aloud began--he would often lie on the sofa and listen to my mother playing the piano. he had not a good ear, yet in spite of this he had a true love of fine music. he used to lament that his enjoyment of music had become dulled with age, yet within my recollection his love of a good tune was strong. i never heard him hum more than one tune, the welsh song "ar hyd y nos," which he went through correctly; he used also, i believe, to hum a little otaheitan song. from his want of ear he was unable to recognise a tune when he heard it again, but he remained constant to what he liked, and would often say, when an old favourite was played, "that's a fine thing; what is it?" he liked especially parts of beethoven's symphonies and bits of handel. he was sensitive to differences in style, and enjoyed the late mrs. vernon lushington's playing intensely, and in june , when hans richter paid a visit at down, he was roused to strong enthusiasm by his magnificent performance on the piano. he enjoyed good singing, and was moved almost to tears by grand or pathetic songs. his niece lady farrer's singing of sullivan's "will he come" was a never-failing enjoyment to him. he was humble in the extreme about his own taste, and correspondingly pleased when he found that others agreed with him. he became much tired in the evenings, especially of late years, and left the drawing-room about ten, going to bed at half-past ten. his nights were generally bad, and he often lay awake or sat up in bed for hours, suffering much discomfort. he was troubled at night by the activity of his thoughts, and would become exhausted by his mind working at some problem which he would willingly have dismissed. at night, too, anything which had vexed or troubled him in the day would haunt him, and i think it was then that he suffered if he had not answered some troublesome correspondent. the regular readings, which i have mentioned, continued for so many years, enabled him to get through a great deal of the lighter kinds of literature. he was extremely fond of novels, and i remember well the way in which he would anticipate the pleasure of having a novel read to him as he lay down or lighted his cigarette. he took a vivid interest both in plot and characters, and would on no account know beforehand how a story finished; he considered looking at the end of a novel as a feminine vice. he could not enjoy any story with a tragical end; for this reason he did not keenly appreciate george eliot, though he often spoke, warmly in praise of _silas marner_. walter scott, miss austen, and mrs. gaskell were read and re-read till they could be read no more. he had two or three books in hand at the same time--a novel and perhaps a biography and a book of travels. he did not often read out-of-the-way or old standard books, but generally kept to the books of the day obtained from a circulating library. his literary tastes and opinions were not on a level with the rest of his mind. he himself, though he was clear as to what he thought good, considered that in matters of literary tastes he was quite outside the pale, and often spoke of what those within it liked or disliked, as if they formed a class to which he had no claim to belong. in all matters of art he was inclined to laugh at professed critics and say that their opinions were formed by fashion. thus in painting, he would say how in his day every one admired masters who are now neglected. his love of pictures as a young man is almost a proof that he must have had an appreciation of a portrait as a work of art, not as a likeness. yet he often talked laughingly of the small worth of portraits, and said that a photograph was worth any number of pictures, as if he were blind to the artistic quality in a painted portrait. but this was generally said in his attempts to persuade us to give up the idea of having his portrait painted, an operation very irksome to him. this way of looking at himself as an ignoramus in all matters of art, was strengthened by the absence of pretence, which was part of his character. with regard to questions of taste, as well as to more serious things he had the courage of his opinions. i remember, however, an instance that sounds like a contradiction to this: when he was looking at the turners in mr. ruskin's bedroom, he did not confess, as he did afterwards, that he could make out absolutely nothing of what mr. ruskin saw in them. but this little pretence was not for his own sake, but for the sake of courtesy to his host. he was pleased and amused when subsequently mr. ruskin brought him some photographs of pictures (i think vandyke portraits), and courteously seemed to value my father's opinion about them. much of his scientific reading was in german, and this was a serious labour to him; in reading a book after him, i was often struck at seeing, from the pencil-marks made each day where he left off, how little he could read at a time. he used to call german the "verdammte," pronounced as if in english. he was especially indignant with germans, because he was convinced that they could write simply if they chose, and often praised professor hildebrand of freiburg for writing german which was as clear as french. he sometimes gave a german sentence to a friend, a patriotic german lady, and used to laugh at her if she did not translate it fluently. he himself learnt german simply by hammering away with a dictionary; he would say that his only way was to read a sentence a great many times over, and at last the meaning occurred to him. when he began german long ago, he boasted of the fact (as he used to tell) to sir j. hooker, who replied, "ah, my dear fellow, that's nothing; i've begun it many times." in spite of his want of grammar, he managed to get on wonderfully with german, and the sentences that he failed to make out were generally difficult ones. he never attempted to speak german correctly, but pronounced the words as though they were english; and this made it not a little difficult to help him, when he read out a german sentence and asked for a translation. he certainly had a bad ear for vocal sounds, so that he found it impossible to perceive small differences in pronunciation. his wide interest in branches of science that were not specially his own was remarkable. in the biological sciences his doctrines make themselves felt so widely that there was something interesting to him in most departments. he read a good deal of many quite special works, and large parts of text books, such as huxley's _invertebrate anatomy_, or such a book as balfour's _embryology_, where the detail, at any rate, was not specially in his own line. and in the case of elaborate books of the monograph type, though he did not make a study of them, yet he felt the strongest admiration for them. in the non-biological sciences he felt keen sympathy with work of which he could not really judge. for instance, he used to read nearly the whole of _nature_, though so much of it deals with mathematics and physics. i have often heard him say that he got a kind of satisfaction in reading articles which (according to himself) he could not understand. i wish i could reproduce the manner in which he would laugh at himself for it. it was remarkable, too, how he kept up his interest in subjects at which he had formerly worked. this was strikingly the case with geology. in one of his letters to mr. judd he begs him to pay him a visit, saying that since lyell's death he hardly ever gets a geological talk. his observations, made only a few years before his death, on the upright pebbles in the drift at southampton, and discussed in a letter to sir a. geikie, afford another instance. again, in his letters to dr. dohrn, he shows how his interest in barnacles remained alive. i think it was all due to the vitality and persistence of his mind--a quality i have heard him speak of as if he felt that he was strongly gifted in that respect. not that he used any such phrases as these about himself, but he would say that he had the power of keeping a subject or question more or less before him for a great many years. the extent to which he possessed this power appears when we consider the number of different problems which he solved, and the early period at which some of them began to occupy him. it was a sure sign that he was not well when he was idle at any times other than his regular resting hours; for, as long as he remained moderately well, there was no break in the regularity of his life. week-days and sundays passed by alike, each with their stated intervals of work and rest. it is almost impossible, except for those who watched his daily life, to realise how essential to his well-being was the regular routine that i have sketched: and with what pain and difficulty anything beyond it was attempted. any public appearance, even of the most modest kind, was an effort to him. in he went to the little village church for the wedding of his elder daughter, but he could hardly bear the fatigue of being present through the short service. the same may be said of the few other occasions on which he was present at similar ceremonies. i remember him many years ago at a christening; a memory which has remained with me, because to us children his being at church was an extraordinary occurrence. i remember his look most distinctly at his brother erasmus's funeral, as he stood in the scattering of snow, wrapped in a long black funeral cloak, with a grave look of sad reverie. when, after an absence of many years, he attended a meeting of the linnean society, it was felt to be, and was in fact, a serious undertaking; one not to be determined on without much sinking of heart, and hardly to be carried into effect without paying a penalty of subsequent suffering. in the same way a breakfast-party at sir james paget's, with some of the distinguished visitors to the medical congress ( ), was to him a severe exertion. the early morning was the only time at which he could make any effort of the kind, with comparative impunity. thus it came about that the visits he paid to his scientific friends in london were by preference made as early as ten in the morning. for the same reason he started on his journeys by the earliest possible train, and used to arrive at the houses of relatives in london when they were beginning their day. he kept an accurate journal of the days on which he worked and those on which his ill health prevented him from working, so that it would be possible to tell how many were idle days in any given year. in this journal--a little yellow letts's diary, which lay open on his mantel-piece, piled on the diaries of previous years--he also entered the day on which he started for a holiday and that of his return. the most frequent holidays were visits of a week to london, either to his brother's house ( queen anne street), or to his daughter's ( bryanston street). he was generally persuaded by my mother to take these short holidays, when it became clear from the frequency of "bad days," or from the swimming of his head, that he was being overworked. he went unwillingly, and tried to drive hard bargains, stipulating, for instance, that he should come home in five days instead of six. the discomfort of a journey to him was, at least latterly, chiefly in the anticipation, and in the miserable sinking feeling from which he suffered immediately before the start; even a fairly long journey, such as that to coniston, tired him wonderfully little, considering how much an invalid he was; and he certainly enjoyed it in an almost boyish way, and to a curious degree. although, as he has said, some of his æsthetic tastes had suffered a gradual decay, his love of scenery remained fresh and strong. every walk at coniston was a fresh delight, and he was never tired of praising the beauty of the broken hilly country at the head of the lake. besides these longer holidays, there were shorter visits to various relatives--to his brother-in-law's house, close to leith hill, and to his son near southampton. he always particularly enjoyed rambling over rough open country, such as the commons near leith hill and southampton, the heath-covered wastes of ashdown forest, or the delightful "rough" near the house of his friend sir thomas farrer. he never was quite idle even on these holidays, and found things to observe. at hartfield he watched drosera catching insects, &c.; at torquay he observed the fertilisation of an orchid (_spiranthes_), and also made out the relations of the sexes in thyme. he rejoiced at his return home after his holidays, and greatly enjoyed the welcome he got from his dog polly, who would get wild with excitement, panting, squeaking, rushing round the room, and jumping on and off the chairs; and he used to stoop down, pressing her face to his, letting her lick him, and speaking to her with a peculiarly tender, caressing voice. my father had the power of giving to these summer holidays a charm which was strongly felt by all his family. the pressure of his work at home kept him at the utmost stretch of his powers of endurance, and when released from it, he entered on a holiday with a youthfulness of enjoyment that made his companionship delightful; we felt that we saw more of him in a week's holiday than in a month at home. besides the holidays which i have mentioned, there were his visits to water-cure establishments. in , when very ill, suffering from constant sickness, he was urged by a friend to try the water-cure, and at last agreed to go to dr. gully's establishment at malvern. his letters to mr. fox show how much good the treatment did him; he seems to have thought that he had found a cure for his troubles, but, like all other remedies, it had only a transient effect on him. however, he found it, at first, so good for him, that when he came home he built himself a douche-bath, and the butler learnt to be his bathman. he was too, a frequent patient at dr. lane's water-cure establishment, moor park, near aldershot, visits to which he always looked back with pleasure. some idea of his relation to his family and his friends may be gathered from what has gone before; it would be impossible to attempt a complete account of these relationships, but a slightly fuller outline may not be out of place. of his married life i cannot speak, save in the briefest manner. in his relationship towards my mother, his tender and sympathetic nature was shown in its most beautiful aspect. in her presence he found his happiness, and through her, his life--which might have been overshadowed by gloom--became one of content and quiet gladness. the _expression of the emotions_ shows how closely he watched his children; it was characteristic of him that (as i have heard him tell), although he was so anxious to observe accurately the expression of a crying child, his sympathy with the grief spoiled his observation. his note-book, in which are recorded sayings of his young children, shows his pleasure in them. he seemed to retain a sort of regretful memory of the childhoods which had faded away, and thus he wrote in his _recollections_:--"when you were very young it was my delight to play with you all, and i think with a sigh that such days can never return." i quote, as showing the tenderness of his nature, some sentences from an account of his little daughter annie, written a few days after her death:-- "our poor child, annie, was born in gower street, on march , , and expired at malvern at mid-day on the rd of april, . "i write these few pages, as i think in after years, if we live, the impressions now put down will recall more vividly her chief characteristics. from whatever point i look back at her, the main feature in her disposition which at once rises before me, is her buoyant joyousness, tempered by two other characteristics, namely, her sensitiveness, which might easily have been overlooked by a stranger, and her strong affection. her joyousness and animal spirits radiated from her whole countenance, and rendered every movement elastic and full of life and vigour. it was delightful and cheerful to behold her. her dear face now rises before me, as she used sometimes to come running downstairs with a stolen pinch of snuff for me, her whole form radiant with the pleasure of giving pleasure. even when playing with her cousins, when her joyousness almost passed into boisterousness, a single glance of my eye, not of displeasure (for i thank god i hardly ever cast one on her), but of want of sympathy, would for some minutes alter her whole countenance. "the other point in her character, which made her joyousness and spirits so delightful, was her strong affection, which was of a most clinging, fondling nature. when quite a baby, this showed itself in never being easy without touching her mother, when in bed with her; and quite lately she would, when poorly, fondle for any length of time one of her mother's arms. when very unwell, her mother lying down beside her, seemed to soothe her in a manner quite different from what it would have done to any of our other children. so, again, she would at almost any time spend half-an-hour in arranging my hair, 'making it,' as she called it, 'beautiful,' or in smoothing, the poor dear darling, my collar or cuffs--in short, in fondling me. "besides her joyousness thus tempered, she was in her manners remarkably cordial, frank, open, straightforward, natural, and without any shade of reserve. her whole mind was pure and transparent. one felt one knew her thoroughly and could trust her. i always thought, that come what might, we should have had, in our old age, at least one loving soul, which nothing could have changed. all her movements were vigorous, active, and usually graceful. when going round the sand-walk with me, although i walked fast, yet she often used to go before, pirouetting in the most elegant way, her dear face bright all the time with the sweetest smiles. occasionally she had a pretty coquettish manner towards me, the memory of which is charming. she often used exaggerated language, and when i quizzed her by exaggerating what she had said, how clearly can i now see the little toss of the head, and exclamation of 'oh, papa, what a shame of you!' in the last short illness, her conduct in simple truth was angelic. she never once complained; never became fretful; was ever considerate of others, and was thankful in the most gentle, pathetic manner for everything done for her. when so exhausted that she could hardly speak, she praised everything that was given her, and said some tea 'was beautifully good.' when i gave her some water, she said, 'i quite thank you;' and these, i believe, were the last precious words ever addressed by her dear lips to me. "we have lost the joy of the household, and the solace of our old age. she must have known how we loved her. oh, that she could now know how deeply, how tenderly, we do still and shall ever love her dear joyous face! blessings on her![ ] "april , ." we, his children, all took especial pleasure in the games he played at with us, and in his stories, which, partly on account of their rarity, were considered specially delightful. the way he brought us up is shown by a little story about my brother leonard, which my father was fond of telling. he came into the drawing-room and found leonard dancing about on the sofa, to the peril of the springs, and said, "oh, lenny, lenny, that's against all rules," and received for answer, "then i think you'd better go out of the room." i do not believe he ever spoke an angry word to any of his children in his life; but i am certain that it never entered our heads to disobey him. i well remember one occasion when my father reproved me for a piece of carelessness; and i can still recall the feeling of depression which came over me, and the care which he took to disperse it by speaking to me soon afterwards with especial kindness. he kept up his delightful, affectionate manner towards us all his life. i sometimes wonder that he could do so, with such an undemonstrative race as we are; but i hope he knew how much we delighted in his loving words and manner. he allowed his grown-up children to laugh with and at him, and was generally speaking on terms of perfect equality with us. he was always full of interest about each one's plans or successes. we used to laugh at him, and say he would not believe in his sons, because, for instance, he would be a little doubtful about their taking some bit of work for which he did not feel sure that they had knowledge enough. on the other hand, he was only too much inclined to take a favourable view of our work. when i thought he had set too high a value on anything that i had done, he used to be indignant and inclined to explode in mock anger. his doubts were part of his humility concerning what was in any way connected with himself; his too favourable view of our work was due to his sympathetic nature, which made him lenient to every one. he kept up towards his children his delightful manner of expressing his thanks; and i never wrote a letter, or read a page aloud to him, without receiving a few kind words of recognition. his love and goodness towards his little grandson bernard were great; and he often spoke of the pleasure it was to him to see "his little face opposite to him" at luncheon. he and bernard used to compare their tastes; _e.g._, in liking brown sugar better than white, &c.; the result being, "we always agree, don't we?" my sister writes:-- "my first remembrances of my father are of the delights of his playing with us. he was passionately attached to his own children, although he was not an indiscriminate child-lover. to all of us he was the most delightful play-fellow, and the most perfect sympathiser. indeed it is impossible adequately to describe how delightful a relation his was to his family, whether as children or in their later life. "it is a proof of the terms on which we were, and also of how much he was valued as a play-fellow, that one of his sons when about four years old tried to bribe him with sixpence to come and play in working hours. "he must have been the most patient and delightful of nurses. i remember the haven of peace and comfort it seemed to me when i was unwell, to be tucked up on the study sofa, idly considering the old geological map hung on the wall. this must have been in his working hours, for i always picture him sitting in the horse hair arm chair by the corner of the fire. "another mark of his unbounded patience was the way in which we were suffered to make raids into the study when we had an absolute need of sticking plaster, string, pins, scissors, stamps, foot rule, or hammer. these and other such necessaries were always to be found in the study, and it was the only place where this was a certainty. we used to feel it wrong to go in during work time; still, when the necessity was great, we did so. i remember his patient look when he said once, 'don't you think you could not come in again, i have been interrupted very often.' we used to dread going in for sticking plaster, because he disliked to see that we had cut ourselves, both for our sakes and on account of his acute sensitiveness to the sight of blood. i well remember lurking about the passage till he was safe away, and then stealing in for the plaster. "life seems to me, as i look back upon it, to have been very regular in those early days, and except relations (and a few intimate friends), i do not think any one came to the house. after lessons, we were always free to go where we would, and that was chiefly in the drawing-room and about the garden, so that we were very much with both my father and mother. we used to think it most delightful when he told us any stories about the _beagle_, or about early shrewsbury days--little bits about school life and his boyish tastes. "he cared for all our pursuits and interests, and lived our lives with us in a way that very few fathers do. but i am certain that none of us felt that this intimacy interfered the least with our respect and obedience. whatever he said was absolute truth and law to us. he always put his whole mind into answering any of our questions. one trifling instance makes me feel how he cared for what we cared for. he had no special taste for cats, but yet he knew and remembered the individualities of my many cats, and would talk about the habits and characters of the more remarkable ones years after they had died. "another characteristic of his treatment of his children was his respect for their liberty, and for their personality. even as quite a little girl, i remember rejoicing in this sense of freedom. our father and mother would not even wish to know what we were doing or thinking unless we wished to tell. he always made us feel that we were each of us creatures whose opinions and thoughts were valuable to him, so that whatever there was best in us came out in the sunshine of his presence. "i do not think his exaggerated sense of our good qualities, intellectual or moral, made us conceited, as might perhaps have been expected, but rather more humble and grateful to him. the reason being no doubt that the influence of his character, of his sincerity and greatness of nature, had a much deeper and more lasting effect than any small exaltation which his praises or admiration may have caused to our vanity."[ ] as head of a household he was much loved and respected; he always spoke to servants with politeness, using the expression, "would you be so good," in asking for anything. he was hardly ever angry with his servants; it shows how seldom this occurred, that when, as a small boy, i overheard a servant being scolded, and my father speaking angrily, it impressed me as an appalling circumstance, and i remember running up stairs out of a general sense of awe. he did not trouble himself about the management of the garden, cows, &c. he considered the horses so little his concern, that he used to ask doubtfully whether he might have a horse and cart to send to keston for sundew, or to the westerham nurseries for plants, or the like. as a host my father had a peculiar charm: the presence of visitors excited him, and made him appear to his best advantage. at shrewsbury, he used to say, it was his father's wish that the guests should be attended to constantly, and in one of the letters to fox he speaks of the impossibility of writing a letter while the house was full of company. i think he always felt uneasy at not doing more for the entertainment of his guests, but the result was successful; and, to make up for any loss, there was the gain that the guests felt perfectly free to do as they liked. the most usual visitors were those who stayed from saturday till monday; those who remained longer were generally relatives, and were considered to be rather more my mother's affair than his. besides these visitors, there were foreigners and other strangers, who came down for luncheon and went away in the afternoon. he used conscientiously to represent to them the enormous distance of down from london, and the labour it would be to come there, unconsciously taking for granted that they would find the journey as toilsome as he did himself. if, however, they were not deterred, he used to arrange their journeys for them, telling them when to come, and practically when to go. it was pleasant to see the way in which he shook hands with a guest who was being welcomed for the first time; his hand used to shoot out in a way that gave one the feeling that it was hastening to meet the guest's hands. with old friends his hand came down with a hearty swing into the other hand in a way i always had satisfaction in seeing. his good-bye was chiefly characterised by the pleasant way in which he thanked his guests, as he stood at the hall-door, for having come to see him. these luncheons were successful entertainments, there was no drag or flagging about them, my father was bright and excited throughout the whole visit. professor de candolle has described a visit to down, in his admirable and sympathetic sketch of my father.[ ] he speaks of his manner as resembling that of a "savant" of oxford or cambridge. this does not strike me as quite a good comparison; in his ease and naturalness there was more of the manner of some soldiers; a manner arising from total absence of pretence or affectation. it was this absence of pose, and the natural and simple way in which he began talking to his guests, so as to get them on their own lines, which made him so charming a host to a stranger. his happy choice of matter for talk seemed to flow out of his sympathetic nature, and humble, vivid interest in other people's work. to some, i think, he caused actual pain by his modesty; i have seen the late francis balfour quite discomposed by having knowledge ascribed to himself on a point about which my father claimed to be utterly ignorant. it is difficult to seize on the characteristics of my father's conversation. he had more dread than have most people of repeating his stories, and continually said, "you must have heard me tell," or "i daresay i've told you." one peculiarity he had, which gave a curious effect to his conversation. the first few words of a sentence would often remind him of some exception to, or some reason against, what he was going to say; and this again brought up some other point, so that the sentence would become a system of parenthesis within parenthesis, and it was often impossible to understand the drift of what he was saying until he came to the end of his sentence. he used to say of himself that he was not quick enough to hold an argument with any one, and i think this was true. unless it was a subject on which he was just then at work, he could not get the train of argument into working order quickly enough. this is shown even in his letters; thus, in the case of two letters to professor semper about the effect of isolation, he did not recall the series of facts he wanted until some days after the first letter had been sent off. when puzzled in talking, he had a peculiar stammer on the first word of a sentence. i only recall this occurring with words beginning with w; possibly he had a special difficulty with this letter, for i have heard him say that as a boy he could not pronounce w, and that sixpence was offered him if he could say "white wine," which he pronounced "rite rine." possibly he may have inherited this tendency from erasmus darwin who stammered.[ ] he sometimes combined his metaphors in a curious way, using such a phrase as "holding on like life,"--a mixture of "holding on for his life," and "holding on like grim death." it came from his eager way of putting emphasis into what he was saying. this sometimes gave an air of exaggeration where it was not intended; but it gave, too, a noble air of strong and generous conviction; as, for instance, when he gave his evidence before the royal commission on vivisection, and came out with his words about cruelty, "it deserves detestation and abhorrence." when he felt strongly about any similar question, he could hardly trust himself to speak, as he then easily became angry, a thing which he disliked excessively. he was conscious that his anger had a tendency to multiply itself in the utterance, and for this reason dreaded (for example) having to reprove a servant. it was a proof of the modesty of his manner of talking, that when, for instance, a number of visitors came over from sir john lubbock's for a sunday afternoon call, he never seemed to be preaching or lecturing, although he had so much of the talk to himself. he was particularly charming when "chaffing" any one, and in high spirits over it. his manner at such times was light-hearted and boyish, and his refinement of nature came out most strongly. so, when he was talking to a lady who pleased and amused him, the combination of raillery and deference in his manner was delightful to see. there was a personal dignity about him, which the most familiar intercourse did not diminish. one felt that he was the last person with whom anyone would wish to take a liberty, nor do i remember an instance of such a thing occurring to him. when my father had several guests he managed them well, getting a talk with each, or bringing two or three together round his chair. in these conversations there was always a good deal of fun, and, speaking generally, there was either a humorous turn in his talk, or a sunny geniality which served instead. perhaps my recollection of a pervading element of humour is the more vivid, because the best talks were with mr. huxley, in whom there is the aptness which is akin to humour, even when humour itself is not there. my father enjoyed mr. huxley's humour exceedingly, and would often say, "what splendid fun huxley is!" i think he probably had more scientific argument (of the nature of a fight) with lyell and sir joseph hooker. he used to say that it grieved him to find that for the friends of his later life he had not the warm affection of his youth. certainly in his early letters from cambridge he gives proofs of strong friendship for herbert and fox; but no one except himself would have said that his affection for his friends was not, throughout life, of the warmest possible kind. in serving a friend he would not spare himself, and precious time and strength were willingly given. he undoubtedly had, to an unusual degree, the power of attaching his friends to him. he had many warm friendships, but to sir joseph hooker he was bound by ties of affection stronger than we often see among men. he wrote in his _recollections_, "i have known hardly any man more lovable than hooker." his relationship to the village people was a pleasant one; he treated them, one and all, with courtesy, when he came in contact with them, and took an interest in all relating to their welfare. some time after he came to live at down he helped to found a friendly club, and served as treasurer for thirty years. he took much trouble about the club, keeping its accounts with minute and scrupulous exactness, and taking pleasure in its prosperous condition. every whit-monday the club marched round with band and banner and paraded on the lawn in front of the house. there he met them, and explained to them their financial position in a little speech seasoned with a few well-worn jokes. he was often unwell enough to make even this little ceremony an exertion, but i think he never failed to meet them. he was also treasurer of the coal club, which gave him a certain amount of work, and he acted for some years as a county magistrate. with regard to my father's interest in the affairs of the village, mr. brodie innes has been so good as to give me his recollections:-- "on my becoming vicar of down in , we became friends, and so continued till his death. his conduct towards me and my family was one of unvarying kindness, and we repaid it by warm affection. "in all parish matters he was an active assistant; in matters connected with the schools, charities, and other business, his liberal contribution was ever ready, and in the differences which at times occurred in that, as in other parishes, i was always sure of his support. he held that where there was really no important objection, his assistance should be given to the clergyman, who ought to know the circumstances best, and was chiefly responsible." his intercourse with strangers was marked with scrupulous and rather formal politeness, but in fact he had few opportunities of meeting strangers, and the quiet life he led at down made him feel confused in a large gathering; for instance, at the royal society's _soirées_ he felt oppressed by the numbers. the feeling that he ought to know people, and the difficulty he had in remembering faces in his latter years, also added to his discomfort on such occasions. he did not realise that he would be recognised from his photographs, and i remember his being uneasy at being obviously recognised by a stranger at the crystal palace aquarium. i must say something of his manner of working: a striking characteristic was his respect for time; he never forgot how precious it was. this was shown, for instance, in the way in which he tried to curtail his holidays; also, and more clearly, with respect to shorter periods. he would often say, that saving the minutes was the way to get work done; he showed this love of saving the minutes in the difference he felt between a quarter of an hour and ten minutes' work; he never wasted a few spare minutes from thinking that it was not worth while to set to work. i was often struck by his way of working up to the very limit of his strength, so that he suddenly stopped in dictating, with the words, "i believe i mustn't do any more." the same eager desire not to lose time was seen in his quick movements when at work. i particularly remember noticing this when he was making an experiment on the roots of beans, which required some care in manipulation; fastening the little bits of card upon the roots was done carefully and necessarily slowly, but the intermediate movements were all quick; taking a fresh bean, seeing that the root was healthy, impaling it on a pin, fixing it on a cork, and seeing that it was vertical, &c.; all these processes were performed with a kind of restrained eagerness. he gave one the impression of working with pleasure, and not with any drag. i have an image, too, of him as he recorded the result of some experiment, looking eagerly at each root, &c., and then writing with equal eagerness. i remember the quick movement of his head up and down as he looked from the object to the notes. he saved a great deal of time through not having to do things twice. although he would patiently go on repeating experiments where there was any good to be gained, he could not endure having to repeat an experiment which ought, if complete care had been taken, to have told its story at first--and this gave him a continual anxiety that the experiment should not be wasted; he felt the experiment to be sacred, however slight a one it was. he wished to learn as much as possible from an experiment, so that he did not confine himself to observing the single point to which the experiment was directed, and his power of seeing a number of other things was wonderful. i do not think he cared for preliminary or rough observations intended to serve as guides and to be repeated. any experiment done was to be of some use, and in this connection i remember how strongly he urged the necessity of keeping the notes of experiments which failed, and to this rule he always adhered. in the literary part of his work he had the same horror of losing time, and the same zeal in what he was doing at the moment, and this made him careful not to be obliged unnecessarily to read anything a second time. his natural tendency was to use simple methods and few instruments. the use of the compound microscope has much increased since his youth, and this at the expense of the simple one. it strikes us nowadays as extraordinary that he should have had no compound microscope when he went his _beagle_ voyage; but in this he followed the advice of robert brown, who was an authority in such matters. he always had a great liking for the simple microscope, and maintained that nowadays it was too much neglected, and that one ought always to see as much as possible with the simple before taking to the compound microscope. in one of his letters he speaks on this point, and remarks that he suspects the work of a man who never uses the simple microscope. his dissecting table was a thick board, let into a window of the study; it was lower than an ordinary table, so that he could not have worked at it standing; but this, from wishing to save his strength, he would not have done in any case. he sat at his dissecting-table on a curious low stool which had belonged to his father, with a seat revolving on a vertical spindle, and mounted on large castors, so that he could turn easily from side to side. his ordinary tools, &c., were lying about on the table, but besides these a number of odds and ends were kept in a round table full of radiating drawers, and turning on a vertical axis, which stood close by his left side, as he sat at his microscope-table. the drawers were labelled, "best tools," "rough tools," "specimens," "preparations for specimens," &c. the most marked peculiarity of the contents of these drawers was the care with which little scraps and almost useless things were preserved; he held the well-known belief, that if you threw a thing away you were sure to want it directly--and so things accumulated. if any one had looked at his tools, &c., lying on the table, he would have been struck by an air of simpleness, make-shift, and oddity. at his right hand were shelves, with a number of other odds and ends, glasses, saucers, tin biscuit boxes for germinating seeds, zinc labels, saucers full of sand, &c., &c. considering how tidy and methodical he was in essential things, it is curious that he bore with so many make-shifts: for instance, instead of having a box made of a desired shape, and stained black inside, he would hunt up something like what he wanted and get it darkened inside with shoe-blacking; he did not care to have glass covers made for tumblers in which he germinated seeds, but used broken bits of irregular shape, with perhaps a narrow angle sticking uselessly out on one side. but so much of his experimenting was of a simple kind, that he had no need for any elaboration, and i think his habit in this respect was in great measure due to his desire to husband his strength, and not waste it on inessential things. his way of marking objects may here be mentioned. if he had a number of things to distinguish, such as leaves, flowers, &c., he tied threads of different colours round them. in particular he used this method when he had only two classes of objects to distinguish; thus in the case of crossed and self-fertilised flowers, one set would be marked with black and one with white thread, tied round the stalk of the flower. i remember well the look of two sets of capsules, gathered and waiting to be weighed, counted, &c., with pieces of black and of white thread to distinguish the trays in which they lay. when he had to compare two sets of seedlings, sowed in the same pot, he separated them by a partition of zinc-plate; and the zinc-label, which gave the necessary details about the experiment, was always placed on a certain side, so that it became instinctive with him to know without reading the label which were the "crossed" and which the "self-fertilised." his love of each particular experiment, and his eager zeal not to lose the fruit of it, came out markedly in these crossing experiments--in the elaborate care he took not to make any confusion in putting capsules into wrong trays, &c. &c. i can recall his appearance as he counted seeds under the simple microscope with an alertness not usually characterising such mechanical work as counting. i think he personified each seed as a small demon trying to elude him by getting into the wrong heap, or jumping away altogether; and this gave to the work the excitement of a game. he had great faith in instruments, and i do not think it naturally occurred to him to doubt the accuracy of a scale, a measuring glass, &c. he was astonished when we found that one of his micrometers differed from the other. he did not require any great accuracy in most of his measurements, and had not good scales; he had an old three-foot rule, which was the common property of the household, and was constantly being borrowed, because it was the only one which was certain to be in its place--unless, indeed, the last borrower had forgotten to put it back. for measuring the height of plants, he had a seven-foot deal rod, graduated by the village carpenter. latterly he took to using paper scales graduated to millimeters. i do not mean by this account of his instruments that any of his experiments suffered from want of accuracy in measurement, i give them as examples of his simple methods and faith in others--faith at least in instrument-makers, whose whole trade was a mystery to him. a few of his mental characteristics, bearing especially on his mode of working, occur to me. there was one quality of mind which seemed to be of special and extreme advantage in leading him to make discoveries. it was the power of never letting exceptions pass unnoticed. everybody notices a fact as an exception when it is striking or frequent, but he had a special instinct for arresting an exception. a point apparently slight and unconnected with his present work is passed over by many a man almost unconsciously with some half-considered explanation, which is in fact no explanation. it was just these things that he seized on to make a start from. in a certain sense there is nothing special in this procedure, many discoveries being made by means of it. i only mention it because, as i watched him at work, the value of this power to an experimenter was so strongly impressed upon me. another quality which was shown in his experimental work, was his power of sticking to a subject; he used almost to apologise for his patience, saying that he could not bear to be beaten, as if this were rather a sign of weakness on his part. he often quoted the saying, "it's dogged as does it;" and i think doggedness expresses his frame of mind almost better than perseverance. perseverance seems hardly to express his almost fierce desire to force the truth to reveal itself. he often said that it was important that a man should know the right point at which to give up an inquiry. and i think it was his tendency to pass this point that inclined him to apologise for his perseverance, and gave the air of doggedness to his work. he often said that no one could be a good observer unless he was an active theoriser. this brings me back to what i said about his instinct for arresting exceptions: it was as though he were charged with theorising power ready to flow into any channel on the slightest disturbance, so that no fact, however small, could avoid releasing a stream of theory, and thus the fact became magnified into importance. in this way it naturally happened that many untenable theories occurred to him; but fortunately his richness of imagination was equalled by his power of judging and condemning the thoughts that occurred to him. he was just to his theories, and did not condemn them unheard; and so it happened that he was willing to test what would seem to most people not at all worth testing. these rather wild trials he called "fool's experiments," and enjoyed extremely. as an example i may mention that finding the seed-leaves of a kind of sensitive plant, to be highly sensitive to vibrations of the table, he fancied that they might perceive the vibrations of sound, and therefore made me play my bassoon close to a plant.[ ] the love of experiment was very strong in him, and i can remember the way he would say, "i shan't be easy till i have tried it," as if an outside force were driving him. he enjoyed experimenting much more than work which only entailed reasoning, and when he was engaged on one of his books which required argument and the marshalling of facts, he felt experimental work to be a rest or holiday. thus, while working upon the _variations of animals and plants_ in - , he made out the fertilisation of orchids, and thought himself idle for giving so much time to them. it is interesting to think that so important a piece of research should have been undertaken and largely worked out as a pastime in place of more serious work. the letters to hooker of this period contain expressions such as, "god forgive me for being so idle; i am quite sillily interested in the work." the intense pleasure he took in understanding the adaptations for fertilisation is strongly shown in these letters. he speaks in one of his letters of his intention of working at sundew as a rest from the _descent of man_. he has described in his _recollections_ the strong satisfaction he felt in solving the problem of heterostylism.[ ] and i have heard him mention that the geology of south america gave him almost more pleasure than anything else. it was perhaps this delight in work requiring keen observation that made him value praise given to his observing powers almost more than appreciation of his other qualities. for books he had no respect, but merely considered them as tools to be worked with. thus he did not bind them, and even when a paper book fell to pieces from use, as happened to müller's _befruchtung_, he preserved it from complete dissolution by putting a metal clip over its back. in the same way he would cut a heavy book in half, to make it more convenient to hold. he used to boast that he had made lyell publish the second edition of one of his books in two volumes, instead of in one, by telling him how he had been obliged to cut it in half. pamphlets were often treated even more severely than books, for he would tear out, for the sake of saving room, all the pages except the one that interested him. the consequence of all this was, that his library was not ornamental, but was striking from being so evidently a working collection of books. he was methodical in his manner of reading books and pamphlets bearing on his own work. he had one shelf on which were piled up the books he had not yet read, and another to which they were transferred after having been read, and before being catalogued. he would often groan over his unread books, because there were so many which he knew he should never read. many a book was at once transferred to the other heap, marked with a cypher at the end, to show that it contained no passages for reference, or inscribed, perhaps, "not read," or "only skimmed." the books accumulated in the "read" heap until the shelves overflowed, and then, with much lamenting, a day was given up to the cataloguing. he disliked this work, and as the necessity of undertaking the work became imperative, would often say, in a voice of despair, "we really must do these books soon." in each book, as he read it, he marked passages bearing on his work. in reading a book or pamphlet, &c., he made pencil-lines at the side of the page, often adding short remarks, and at the end made a list of the pages marked. when it was to be catalogued and put away, the marked pages were looked at, and so a rough abstract of the book was made. this abstract would perhaps be written under three or four headings on different sheets, the facts being sorted out and added to the previously collected facts in the different subjects. he had other sets of abstracts arranged, not according to subject, but according to the periodicals from which they were taken. when collecting facts on a large scale, in earlier years, he used to read through, and make abstracts, in this way, of whole series of journals. in some of his early letters he speaks of filling several note-books with facts for his book on species; but it was certainly early that he adopted his plan of using portfolios, as described in the _recollections_.[ ] my father and m. de candolle were mutually pleased to discover that they had adopted the same plan of classifying facts. de candolle describes the method in his _phytologie_, and in his sketch of my father mentions the satisfaction he felt in seeing it in action at down. besides these portfolios, of which there are some dozens full of notes, there are large bundles of ms. marked "used" and put away. he felt the value of his notes, and had a horror of their destruction by fire. i remember, when some alarm of fire had happened, his begging me to be especially careful, adding very earnestly, that the rest of his life would be miserable if his notes and books were destroyed. he shows the same feeling in writing about the loss of a manuscript, the purport of his words being, "i have a copy, or the loss would have killed me." in writing a book he would spend much time and labour in making a skeleton or plan of the whole, and in enlarging and sub-classing each heading, as described in his _recollections_. i think this careful arrangement of the plan was not at all essential to the building up of his argument, but for its presentment, and for the arrangement of his facts. in his _life of erasmus darwin_, as it was first printed in slips, the growth of the book from a skeleton was plainly visible. the arrangement was altered afterwards, because it was too formal and categorical, and seemed to give the character of his grandfather rather by means of a list of qualities than as a complete picture. it was only within the last few years that he adopted a plan of writing which he was convinced suited him best, and which is described in the _recollections_; namely, writing a rough copy straight off without the slightest attention to style. it was characteristic of him that he felt unable to write with sufficient want of care if he used his best paper, and thus it was that he wrote on the backs of old proofs or manuscript. the rough copy was then reconsidered, and a fair copy was made. for this purpose he had foolscap paper ruled at wide intervals, the lines being needed to prevent him writing so closely that correction became difficult. the fair copy was then corrected, and was recopied before being sent to the printers. the copying was done by mr. e. norman, who began this work many years ago when village schoolmaster at down. my father became so used to mr. norman's handwriting, that he could not correct manuscript, even when clearly written out by one of his children, until it had been recopied by mr. norman. the ms., on returning from mr. norman, was once more corrected, and then sent off to the printers. then came the work of revising and correcting the proofs, which my father found especially wearisome. when the book was passing through the "slip" stage he was glad to have corrections and suggestions from others. thus my mother looked over the proofs of the _origin_. in some of the later works my sister, mrs. litchfield, did much of the correction. after my sister's marriage perhaps most of the work fell to my share. my sister, mrs. litchfield, writes:-- "this work was very interesting in itself, and it was inexpressibly exhilarating to work for him. he was so ready to be convinced that any suggested alteration was an improvement, and so full of gratitude for the trouble taken. i do not think that he ever forgot to tell me what improvement he thought i had made, and he used almost to excuse himself if he did not agree with any correction. i think i felt the singular modesty and graciousness of his nature through thus working for him in a way i never should otherwise have done." perhaps the commonest corrections needed were of obscurities due to the omission of a necessary link in the reasoning, evidently omitted through familiarity with the subject. not that there was any fault in the sequence of the thoughts, but that from familiarity with his argument he did not notice when the words failed to reproduce his thought. he also frequently put too much matter into one sentence, so that it had to be cut up into two. on the whole, i think the pains which my father took over the literary part of the work was very remarkable. he often laughed or grumbled at himself for the difficulty which he found in writing english, saying, for instance, that if a bad arrangement of a sentence was possible, he should be sure to adopt it. he once got much amusement and satisfaction out of the difficulty which one of the family found in writing a short circular. he had the pleasure of correcting and laughing at obscurities, involved sentences, and other defects, and thus took his revenge for all the criticism he had himself to bear with. he would quote with astonishment miss martineau's advice to young authors, to write straight off and send the ms. to the printer without correction. but in some cases he acted in a somewhat similar manner. when a sentence became hopelessly involved, he would ask himself, "now what _do_ you want to say?" and his answer written down, would often disentangle the confusion. his style has been much praised; on the other hand, at least one good judge has remarked to me that it is not a good style. it is, above all things, direct and clear; and it is characteristic of himself in its simplicity bordering on naïveté, and in its absence of pretence. he had the strongest disbelief in the common idea that a classical scholar must write good english; indeed, he thought that the contrary was the case. in writing, he sometimes showed the same tendency to strong expressions that he did in conversation. thus in the _origin_, p. , there is a description of a larval cirripede, "with six pairs of beautifully constructed natatory legs, a pair of magnificent compound eyes, and extremely complex antennæ." we used to laugh at him for this sentence, which we compared to an advertisement. this tendency to give himself up to the enthusiastic turn of his thought, without fear of being ludicrous appears elsewhere in his writings. his courteous and conciliatory tone towards his reader is remarkable, and it must be partly this quality which revealed his personal sweetness of character to so many who had never seen him. i have always felt it to be a curious fact, that he who has altered the face of biological science, and is in this respect the chief of the moderns, should have written and worked in so essentially a non-modern spirit and manner. in reading his books one is reminded of the older naturalists rather than of any modern school of writers. he was a naturalist in the old sense of the word, that is, a man who works at many branches of science, not merely a specialist in one. thus it is, that, though he founded whole new divisions of special subjects--such as the fertilisation of flowers, insectivorous plants, &c.--yet even in treating these very subjects he does not strike the reader as a specialist. the reader feels like a friend who is being talked to by a courteous gentleman, not like a pupil being lectured by a professor. the tone of such a book as the _origin_ is charming, and almost pathetic; it is the tone of a man who, convinced of the truth of his own views, hardly expects to convince others; it is just the reverse of the style of a fanatic, who tries to force belief on his readers. the reader is never scorned for any amount of doubt which he may be imagined to feel, and his scepticism is treated with patient respect. a sceptical reader, or perhaps even an unreasonable reader, seems to have been generally present to his thoughts. it was in consequence of this feeling, perhaps, that he took much trouble over points which he imagined would strike the reader, or save him trouble, and so tempt him to read. for the same reason he took much interest in the illustrations of his books, and i think rated rather too highly their value. the illustrations for his earlier books were drawn by professional artists. this was the case in _animals and plants_, the _descent of man_, and the _expression of the emotions_. on the other hand, _climbing plants_, _insectivorous plants_, the _movements of plants_, and _forms of flowers_, were, to a large extent, illustrated by some of his children--my brother george having drawn by far the most. it was delightful to draw for him, as he was enthusiastic in his praise of very moderate performances. i remember well his charming manner of receiving the drawings of one of his daughters-in-law, and how he would finish his words of praise by saying, "tell a----, michael angelo is nothing to it." though he praised so generously, he always looked closely at the drawing, and easily detected mistakes or carelessness. he had a horror of being lengthy, and seems to have been really much annoyed and distressed when he found how the _variations of animals and plants_ was growing under his hands. i remember his cordially agreeing with 'tristram shandy's' words, "let no man say, 'come, i'll write a duodecimo.'" his consideration for other authors was as marked a characteristic as his tone towards his reader. he speaks of all other authors as persons deserving of respect. in cases where, as in the case of ----'s experiments on drosera, he thought lightly of the author, he speaks of him in such a way that no one would suspect it. in other cases he treats the confused writings of ignorant persons as though the fault lay with himself for not appreciating or understanding them. besides this general tone of respect, he had a pleasant way of expressing his opinion on the value of a quoted work, or his obligation for a piece of private information. his respectful feeling was not only admirable, but was i think of practical use in making him ready to consider the ideas and observations of all manner of people. he used almost to apologise for this, and would say that he was at first inclined to rate everything too highly. it was a great merit in his mind that, in spite of having so strong a respectful feeling towards what he read, he had the keenest of instincts as to whether a man was trustworthy or not. he seemed to form a very definite opinion as to the accuracy of the men whose books he read; and employed this judgment in his choice of facts for use in argument or as illustrations. i gained the impression that he felt this power of judging of a man's trustworthiness to be of much value. he had a keen feeling of the sense of honour that ought to reign among authors, and had a horror of any kind of laxness in quoting. he had a contempt for the love of honour and glory, and in his letters often blames himself for the pleasure he took in the success of his books, as though he were departing from his ideal--a love of truth and carelessness about fame. often, when writing to sir j. hooker what he calls a boasting letter, he laughs at himself for his conceit and want of modesty. a wonderfully interesting letter is given in chapter x. bequeathing to my mother, in case of his death, the care of publishing the manuscript of his first essay on evolution. this letter seems to me full of an intense desire that his theory should succeed as a contribution to knowledge, and apart from any desire for personal fame. he certainly had the healthy desire for success which a man of strong feelings ought to have. but at the time of the publication of the _origin_ it is evident that he was overwhelmingly satisfied with the adherence of such men as lyell, hooker, huxley, and asa gray, and did not dream of or desire any such general fame as that to which he attained. connected with his contempt for the undue love of fame, was an equally strong dislike of all questions of priority. the letters to lyell, at the time of the _origin_, show the anger he felt with himself for not being able to repress a feeling of disappointment at what he thought was mr. wallace's forestalling of all his years of work. his sense of literary honour comes out strongly in these letters; and his feeling about priority is again shown in the admiration expressed in his _recollections_ of mr. wallace's self-annihilation. his feeling about reclamations, including answers to attacks and all kinds of discussions, was strong. it is simply expressed in a letter to falconer ( ): "if i ever felt angry towards you, for whom i have a sincere friendship, i should begin to suspect that i was a little mad. i was very sorry about your reclamation, as i think it is in every case a mistake and should be left to others. whether i should so act myself under provocation is a different question." it was a feeling partly dictated by instinctive delicacy, and partly by a strong sense of the waste of time, energy, and temper thus caused. he said that he owed his determination not to get into discussions[ ] to the advice of lyell,--advice which he transmitted to those among his friends who were given to paper warfare. if the character of my father's working life is to be understood, the conditions of ill-health, under which he worked, must be constantly borne in mind. he bore his illness with such uncomplaining patience, that even his children can hardly, i believe, realise the extent of his habitual suffering. in their case the difficulty is heightened by the fact that, from the days of their earliest recollections, they saw him in constant ill-health,--and saw him, in spite of it, full of pleasure in what pleased them. thus, in later life, their perception of what he endured had to be disentangled from the impression produced in childhood by constant genial kindness under conditions of unrecognised difficulty. no one indeed, except my mother, knows the full amount of suffering he endured, or the full amount of his wonderful patience. for all the latter years of his life she never left him for a night; and her days were so planned that all his resting hours might be shared with her. she shielded him from every avoidable annoyance, and omitted nothing that might save him trouble, or prevent him becoming overtired, or that might alleviate the many discomforts of his ill-health. i hesitate to speak thus freely of a thing so sacred as the life-long devotion which prompted all this constant and tender care. but it is, i repeat, a principal feature of his life, that for nearly forty years he never knew one day of the health of ordinary men, and that thus his life was one long struggle against the weariness and strain of sickness. and this cannot be told without speaking of the one condition which enabled him to bear the strain and fight out the struggle to the end. footnotes: [ ] from the _century magazine_, january . [ ] the figure in _insectivorous plants_ representing the aggregated cell-contents was drawn by him. [ ] _life and letters_, vol. iii. frontispiece. [ ] the basket in which she usually lay curled up near the fire in his study is faithfully represented in mr. parson's drawing given at the head of the chapter. [ ] cf. leslie stephen's _swift_, , p. , where swift's inspection of the manners and customs of servants are compared to my father's observations on worms, "the difference is," says mr. stephen, "that darwin had none but kindly feelings for worms." [ ] the words, "a good and dear child," form the descriptive part of the inscription on her gravestone. see the _athenæum_, nov. , . [ ] some pleasant recollections of my father's life at down, written by our friend and former neighbour, mrs. wallis nash, have been published in the _overland monthly_ (san francisco), october . [ ] _darwin considéré au point de vue des causes de son succès_ (geneva, ). [ ] my father related a johnsonian answer of erasmus darwin's: "don't you find it very inconvenient stammering, dr. darwin?" "no, sir, because i have time to think before i speak, and don't ask impertinent questions." [ ] this is not so much an example of superabundant theorising from a small cause as of his wish to test the most improbable ideas. [ ] that is to say, the sexual relations in such plants as the cowslip. [ ] the racks in which the portfolios were placed are shown in the illustration at the head of the chapter, in the recess at the right-hand side of the fire-place. [ ] he departed from his rule in his "note on the habits of the pampas woodpecker, _colaptes campestris_," _proc. zool. soc._, , p. : also in a letter published in the _athenæum_ ( , p. ), in which case he afterwards regretted that he had not remained silent. his replies to criticisms, in the latter editions of the _origin_, can hardly be classed as infractions of his rule. chapter v. cambridge life.--the appointment to the 'beagle.' my father's cambridge life comprises the time between the lent term, , when he came up to christ's college as a freshman, and the end of the may term, , when he took his degree[ ] and left the university. he "kept" for a term or two in lodgings, over bacon[ ] the tobacconist's; not, however, over the shop in the market place, so well known to cambridge men, but in sydney street. for the rest of his time he had pleasant rooms on the south side of the first court of christ's.[ ] what determined the choice of this college for his brother erasmus and himself i have no means of knowing. erasmus the elder, their grandfather, had been at st. john's, and this college might have been reasonably selected for them, being connected with shrewsbury school. but the life of an undergraduate at st. john's seems, in those days, to have been a troubled one, if i may judge from the fact that a relative of mine migrated thence to christ's to escape the harassing discipline of the place. darwin seems to have found no difficulty in living at peace with all men in and out of office at lady margaret's elder foundation. the impression of a contemporary of my father's is that christ's in their day was a pleasant, fairly quiet college, with some tendency towards "horsiness"; many of the men made a custom of going to newmarket during the races, though betting was not a regular practice. in this they were by no means discouraged by the senior tutor, mr. shaw, who was himself generally to be seen on the heath on these occasions. nor were the ecclesiastical authorities of the college over strict. i have heard my father tell how at evening chapel the dean used to read alternate verses of the psalms, without making even a pretence of waiting for the congregation to take their share. and when the lesson was a lengthy one, he would rise and go on with the canticles after the scholar had read fifteen or twenty verses. it is curious that my father often spoke of his cambridge life as if it had been so much time wasted,[ ] forgetting that, although the set studies of the place were barren enough for him, he yet gained in the highest degree the best advantages of a university life--the contact with men and an opportunity for mental growth. it is true that he valued at its highest the advantages which he gained from associating with professor henslow and some others, but he seemed to consider this as a chance outcome of his life at cambridge, not an advantage for which _alma mater_ could claim any credit. one of my father's cambridge friends was the late mr. j. m. herbert, county court judge for south wales, from whom i was fortunate enough to obtain some notes which help us to gain an idea of how my father impressed his contemporaries. mr. herbert writes:-- "it would be idle for me to speak of his vast intellectual powers ... but i cannot end this cursory and rambling sketch without testifying, and i doubt not all his surviving college friends would concur with me, that he was the most genial, warm-hearted, generous, and affectionate of friends; that his sympathies were with all that was good and true; and that he had a cordial hatred for everything false, or vile, or cruel, or mean, or dishonourable. he was not only great, but pre-eminently good, and just, and lovable." two anecdotes told by mr. herbert show that my father's feeling for suffering, whether of man or beast, was as strong in him as a young man as it was in later years: "before he left cambridge he told me that he had made up his mind not to shoot any more; that he had had two days' shooting at his friend's, mr. owen of woodhouse; and that on the second day, when going over some of the ground they had beaten on the day before, he picked up a bird not quite dead, but lingering from a shot it had received on the previous day; and that it had made and left such a painful impression on his mind, that he could not reconcile it to his conscience to continue to derive pleasure from a sport which inflicted such cruel suffering." to realise the strength of the feeling that led to this resolve, we must remember how passionate was his love of sport. we must recall the boy shooting his first snipe,[ ] and trembling with excitement so that he could hardly reload his gun. or think of such a sentence as, "upon my soul, it is only about a fortnight to the 'first,' then if there is a bliss on earth that is it."[ ] his old college friends agree in speaking with affectionate warmth of his pleasant, genial temper as a young man. from what they have been able to tell me, i gain the impression of a young man overflowing with animal spirits--leading a varied healthy life--not over-industrious in the set studies of the place, but full of other pursuits, which were followed with a rejoicing enthusiasm. entomology, riding, shooting in the fens, suppers and card-playing, music at king's chapel, engravings at the fitzwilliam museum, walks with professor henslow--all combined to fill up a happy life. he seems to have infected others with his enthusiasm. mr. herbert relates how, while on a reading-party at barmouth, he was pressed into the service of "the science"--as my father called collecting beetles:-- "he armed me with a bottle of alcohol, in which i had to drop any beetle which struck me as not of a common kind. i performed this duty with some diligence in my constitutional walks; but, alas! my powers of discrimination seldom enabled mo to secure a prize--the usual result, on his examining the contents of my bottle, being an exclamation, 'well, old cherbury'[ ] (the nickname he gave me, and by which he usually addressed me), 'none of these will do.'" again, the rev. t. butler, who was one of the barmouth reading-party in , says: "he inoculated me with a taste for botany which has stuck by me all my life." archdeacon watkins, another old college friend of my father's, remembered him unearthing beetles in the willows between cambridge and grantchester, and speaks of a certain beetle the remembrance of whose name is "crux major."[ ] how enthusiastically must my father have exulted over this beetle to have impressed its name on a companion so that he remembers it after half a century! he became intimate with henslow, the professor of botany, and through him with some other older members of the university. "but," mr. herbert writes, "he always kept up the closest connection with the friends of his own standing; and at our frequent social gatherings--at breakfast, wine or supper parties--he was ever one of the most cheerful, the most popular, and the most welcome." my father formed one of a club for dining once a week, called the glutton club, the members, besides himself and mr. herbert (from whom i quote), being whitley of st. john's, now honorary canon of durham;[ ] heaviside of sydney, now canon of norwich; lovett cameron of trinity, sometime vicar of shoreham; r. blane of trinity,[ ] who held a high post during the crimean war, h. lowe[ ] (afterwards sherbrooke) of trinity hall; and f. watkins of emmanuel, afterwards archdeacon of york. the origin of the club's name seems already to have become involved in obscurity; it certainly implied no unusual luxury in the weekly gatherings. at any rate, the meetings seemed to have been successful, and to have ended with "a game of mild vingt-et-un." mr. herbert speaks strongly of my father's love of music, and adds, "what gave him the greatest delight was some grand symphony or overture of mozart's or beethoven's, with their full harmonies." on one occasion herbert remembers "accompanying him to the afternoon service at king's, when we heard a very beautiful anthem. at the end of one of the parts, which was exceedingly impressive, he turned round to me and said, with a deep sigh, 'how's your backbone?'" he often spoke in later years of a feeling of coldness or shivering in his back on hearing beautiful music. besides a love of music, he had certainly at this time a love of fine literature; and mr. cameron tells me that my father took much pleasure in shakespeare readings carried on in his rooms at christ's. he also speaks of darwin's "great liking for first-class line engravings, especially those of raphael morghen and müller; and he spent hours in the fitzwilliam museum in looking over the prints in that collection." my father's letters to fox show how sorely oppressed he felt by the reading for an examination. his despair over mathematics must have been profound, when he expresses a hope that fox's silence is due to "your being ten fathoms deep in the mathematics; and if you are, god help you, for so am i, only with this difference, i stick fast in the mud at the bottom, and there i shall remain." mr. herbert says: "he had, i imagine, no natural turn for mathematics, and he gave up his mathematical reading before he had mastered the first part of algebra, having had a special quarrel with surds and the binomial theorem." we get some evidence from my father's letters to fox of his intention of going into the church. "i am glad," he writes,[ ] "to hear that you are reading divinity. i should like to know what books you are reading, and your opinions about them; you need not be afraid of preaching to me prematurely." mr. herbert's sketch shows how doubts arose in my father's mind as to the possibility of his taking orders. he writes, "we had an earnest conversation about going into holy orders; and i remember his asking me, with reference to the question put by the bishop in the ordination service, 'do you trust that you are inwardly moved by the holy spirit, &c.,' whether i could answer in the affirmative, and on my saying i could not, he said, 'neither can i, and therefore i cannot take orders.'" this conversation appears to have taken place in , and if so, the doubts here expressed must have been quieted, for in may , he speaks of having some thoughts of reading divinity with henslow. the greater number of his cambridge letters are addressed by my father to his cousin, william darwin fox. my father's letters show clearly enough how genuine the friendship was. in after years, distance, large families, and ill-health on both sides, checked the intercourse; but a warm feeling of friendship remained. the correspondence was never quite dropped and continued till mr. fox's death in . mr. fox took orders, and worked as a country clergyman until forced by ill-health to leave his living in delamere forest. his love of natural history was strong, and he became a skilled fancier of many kinds of birds, &c. the index to _animals and plants_, and my father's later correspondence, show how much help he received from his old college friend. _c. d. to j. m. herbert._ september , .[ ] my dear old cherbury,--i am about to fulfil my promise of writing to you, but i am sorry to add there is a very selfish motive at the bottom. i am going to ask you a great favour, and you cannot imagine how much you will oblige me by procuring some more specimens of some insects which i dare say i can describe. in the first place, i must inform you that i have taken some of the rarest of the british insects, and their being found near barmouth, is quite unknown to the entomological world: i think i shall write and inform some of the crack entomologists. but now for business. _several_ more specimens, if you can procure them without much trouble, of the following insects:--the violet-black coloured beetle, found on craig storm,[ ] under stones, also a large smooth black one very like it; a bluish metallic-coloured dung-beetle, which is _very_ common on the hill-sides; also, if you _would_ be so very kind as to cross the ferry, and you will find a great number under the stones on the waste land of a long, smooth, jet-black beetle (a great many of these); also, in the same situation, a very small pinkish insect, with black spots, with a curved thorax projecting beyond the head; also, upon the marshy land over the ferry, near the sea, under old sea weed, stones, &c., you will find a small yellowish transparent beetle, with two or four blackish marks on the back. under these stones there are two sorts, one much darker than the other; the lighter coloured is that which i want. these last two insects are _excessively rare_, and you will really _extremely_ oblige me by taking all this trouble pretty soon. remember me most kindly to butler,[ ] tell him of my success, and i dare say both of you will easily recognise these insects. i hope his caterpillars go on well. i think many of the chrysalises are well worth keeping. i really am quite ashamed [of] so long a letter all about my own concerns; but do return good for evil, and send me a long account of all your proceedings. in the first week i killed seventy-five head of game--a very contemptible number--but there are very few birds. i killed, however, a brace of black game. since then i have been staying at the fox's, near derby; it is a very pleasant house, and the music meeting went off very well. i want to hear how yates likes his gun, and what use he has made of it. if the bottle is not large you can buy another for me, and when you pass through shrewsbury you can leave these treasures, and i hope, if you possibly can, you will stay a day or two with me, as i hope i need not say how glad i shall be to see you again. fox remarked what deuced good natured fellows your friends at barmouth must be; and if i did not know that you and butler were so, i would not think of giving you so much trouble. in the following january we find him looking forward with pleasure to the beginning of another year of his cambridge life: he writes to fox, who had passed his examination:-- "i do so wish i were now in cambridge (a very selfish wish, however, as i was not with you in all your troubles and misery), to join in all the glory and happiness, which dangers gone by can give. how we would talk, walk, and entomologise! sappho should be the best of bitches, and dash, of dogs; then should be 'peace on earth, good will to men,'--which, by the way, i always think the most perfect description of happiness that words can give." later on in the lent term he writes to fox:-- "i am leading a quiet everyday sort of a life; a little of gibbon's history in the morning, and a good deal of _van john_ in the evening; this, with an occasional ride with simcox and constitutional with whitley, makes up the regular routine of my days. i see a good deal both of herbert and whitley, and the more i see of them increases every day the respect i have for their excellent understandings and dispositions. they have been giving some very gay parties, nearly sixty men there both evenings." _c. d. to w. d. fox._ christ's college, april [ ]. my dear fox--in your letter to holden you are pleased to observe "that of all the blackguards you ever met with i am the greatest." upon this observation i shall make no remarks, excepting that i must give you all due credit for acting on it most rigidly. and now i should like to know in what one particular are you less of a blackguard than i am? you idle old wretch, why have you not answered my last letter, which i am sure i forwarded to clifton nearly three weeks ago? if i was not really very anxious to hear what you are doing, i should have allowed you to remain till you thought it worth while to treat me like a gentleman. and now having vented my spleen in scolding you, and having told you, what you must know, how very much and how anxiously i want to hear how you and your family are getting on at clifton, the purport of this letter is finished. if you did but know how often i think of you, and how often i regret your absence, i am sure i should have heard from you long enough ago. i find cambridge rather stupid, and as i know scarcely any one that walks, and this joined with my lips not being quite so well, has reduced me to a sort of hybernation.... i have caught mr. harbour[ ] letting ---- have the first pick of the beetles; accordingly we have made our final adieus, my part in the affecting scene consisted in telling him he was a d----d rascal, and signifying i should kick him down the stairs if ever he appeared in my rooms again. it seemed altogether mightily to surprise the young gentleman. i have no news to tell you; indeed, when a correspondence has been broken off like ours has been, it is difficult to make the first start again. last night there was a terrible fire at linton, eleven miles from cambridge. seeing the reflection so plainly in the sky, hall, woodyeare, turner, and myself thought we would ride and see it. we set out at half-past nine, and rode like incarnate devils there, and did not return till two in the morning. altogether it was a most awful sight. i cannot conclude without telling you, that of all the blackguards i ever met with, you are the greatest and the best. in july he had written to fox:-- "i must read for my little-go. graham smiled and bowed so very civilly, when he told me that he was one of the six appointed to make the examination stricter, and that they were determined this would make it a very different thing from any previous examination, that from all this i am sure it will be the very devil to pay amongst all idle men and entomologists." but things were not so bad as he feared, and in march , he could write to the same correspondent:-- "i am through my little-go!!! i am too much exalted to humble myself by apologising for not having written before. but i assure you before i went in, and when my nerves were in a shattered and weak condition, your injured person often rose before my eyes and taunted me with my idleness. but i am through, through, through. i could write the whole sheet full with this delightful word. i went in yesterday, and have just heard the joyful news. i shall not know for a week which class i am in. the whole examination is carried on in a different system. it has one grand advantage--being over in one day. they are rather strict, and ask a wonderful number of questions. and now i want to know something about your plans; of course you intend coming up here: what fun we will have together; what beetles we will catch; it will do my heart good to go once more together to some of our old haunts. i have two very promising pupils in entomology, and we will make regular campaigns into the fens. heaven protect the beetles and mr. jenyns, for we won't leave him a pair in the whole country. my new cabinet is come down, and a gay little affair it is." in august he was diligently amusing himself in north wales, finding no time to write to fox, because:-- "this is literally the first idle day i have had to myself; for on the rainy days i go fishing, on the good ones entomologising." november found him preparing for his degree, of which process he writes dolefully:-- "i have so little time at present, and am so disgusted by reading, that i have not the heart to write to anybody. i have only written once home since i came up. this must excuse me for not having answered your three letters, for which i am really very much obliged.... "i have not stuck an insect this term, and scarcely opened a case. if i had time i would have sent you the insects which i have so long promised; but really i have not spirits or time to do anything. reading makes me quite desperate; the plague of getting up all my subjects is next thing to intolerable, henslow is my tutor, and a most _admirable_ one he makes; the hour with him is the pleasantest in the whole day. i think he is quite the most perfect man i ever met with. i have been to some very pleasant parties there this term. his good-nature is unbounded." the new year brought relief, and on january , , he wrote to tell fox that he was through his examination. "i do not know why the degree should make one so miserable, both before and afterwards. i recollect you were sufficiently wretched before, and i can assure [you], i am now; and what makes it the more ridiculous is, i know not what about. i believe it is a beautiful provision of nature to make one regret the less leaving so pleasant a place as cambridge; and amongst all its pleasures--i say it for once and for all--none so great as my friendship with you. i sent you a newspaper yesterday, in which you will see what a good place--tenth--i have got in the poll. as for christ's, did you ever see such a college for producing captains and apostles?[ ] there are no men either at emmanuel or christ's plucked. cameron is gulfed,[ ] together with other three trinity scholars! my plans are not at all settled. i think i shall keep this term, and then go and economise at shrewsbury, return and take my degree. "a man may be excused for writing so much about himself when he has just passed the examination; so you must excuse [me]. and on the same principle do you write a letter brimful of yourself and plans." the appointment to the 'beagle.' in a letter addressed to captain fitz-roy, before the _beagle_ sailed, my father wrote, "what a glorious day the th of november[ ] will be to me--my second life will then commence, and it shall be as a birthday for the rest of my life." foremost in the chain of circumstances which led to his appointment to the _beagle_, was his friendship with professor henslow, of which the autobiography gives a sufficient account.[ ] an extract from a pocket-book, in which darwin briefly recorded the chief events of his life, gives the history of his introduction to that science which was so soon to be his chief occupation--geology. " . _christmas._--passed my examination for b.a. degree and kept the two following terms. during these months lived much with professor henslow, often dining with him and walking with him; became slightly acquainted with several of the learned men in cambridge, which much quickened the zeal which dinner parties and hunting had not destroyed. in the spring henslow persuaded me to think of geology, and introduced me to sedgwick. during midsummer geologized a little in shropshire." this geological work was doubtless of importance as giving him some practical experience, and perhaps of more importance in helping to give him some confidence in himself. in july of the same year, , he was "working like a tiger" at geology, and trying to make a map of shropshire, but not finding it "as easy as i expected." in writing to henslow about the same time, he gives some account of his work:-- "i have been working at so many things that i have not got on much with geology. i suspect the first expedition i take, clinometer and hammer in hand, will send me back very little wiser and a good deal more puzzled than when i started. as yet i have only indulged in hypotheses, but they are such powerful ones that i suppose, if they were put into action but for one day, the world would come to an end." he was evidently most keen to get to work with sedgwick, who had promised to take him on a geological tour in north wales, for he wrote to henslow: "i have not heard from professor sedgwick, so i am afraid he will not pay the severn formations a visit. i hope and trust you did your best to urge him." my father has given in his _recollections_ some account of this tour; there too we read of the projected excursion to the canaries. in april , he writes to fox: "at present i talk, think, and dream of a scheme i have almost hatched of going to the canary islands. i have long had a wish of seeing tropical scenery and vegetation, and, according to humboldt, teneriffe is a very pretty specimen." and again in may: "as for my canary scheme, it is rash of you to ask questions; my other friends most sincerely wish me there, i plague them so with talking about tropical scenery, &c. eyton will go next summer, and i am learning spanish." later on in the summer the scheme took more definite form, and the date seems to have been fixed for june . he got information in london about passage-money, and in july was working at spanish and calling fox "un grandìsimo lebron," in proof of his knowledge of the language. but even then he seems to have had some doubts about his companions' zeal, for he writes to henslow (july , ): "i hope you continue to fan your canary ardour. i read and re-read humboldt;[ ] do you do the same. i am sure nothing will prevent us seeing the great dragon tree." geological work and teneriffe dreams carried him through the summer, till on returning from barmouth for the sacred st of september, he received the offer of appointment as naturalist to the _beagle_. the following extract from the pocket-book will be a help in reading the letters:-- "returned to shrewsbury at end of august. refused offer of voyage. "_september._--went to maer, returned with uncle jos. to shrewsbury, thence to cambridge. london. "_ th._--went with captain fitz-roy in steamer to plymouth to see the _beagle_. "_ nd._--returned to shrewsbury, passing through cambridge. "_october nd._--took leave of my home. stayed in london. "_ th._--reached plymouth. "_october and november._--these months very miserable. "_december th._--sailed, but were obliged to put back. "_ st._--put to sea again, and were driven back. "_ th._--sailed from england on our circumnavigation." _george peacock[ ] to j. s. henslow_ [ ]. my dear henslow--captain fitz-roy is going out to survey the southern coast of tierra del fuego, and afterwards to visit many of the south sea islands, and to return by the indian archipelago. the vessel is fitted out expressly for scientific purposes, combined with the survey; it will furnish, therefore, a rare opportunity for a naturalist, and it would be a great misfortune that it should be lost. an offer has been made to me to recommend a proper person to go out as a naturalist with this expedition; he will be treated with every consideration. the captain is a young man of very pleasing manners (a nephew of the duke of grafton), of great zeal in his profession, and who is very highly spoken of; if leonard jenyns could go, what treasures he might bring home with him, as the ship would be placed at his disposal whenever his inquiries made it necessary or desirable. in the absence of so accomplished a naturalist, is there any person whom you could strongly recommend? he must be such a person as would do credit to our recommendation. do think of this subject; it would be a serious loss to the cause of natural science if this fine opportunity was lost. the contents of the foregoing letter were communicated to darwin by henslow (august th, ):-- "i have been asked by peacock, who will read and forward this to you from london, to recommend him a naturalist as companion to captain fitz-roy, employed by government to survey the southern extremity of america. i have stated that i consider you to be the best qualified person i know of who is likely to undertake such a situation. i state this not in the supposition of your being a _finished_ naturalist, but as amply qualified for collecting, observing, and noting anything worthy to be noted in natural history. peacock has the appointment at his disposal, and if he cannot find a man willing to take the office, the opportunity will probably be lost. captain fitz-roy wants a man (i understand) more as a companion than a mere collector, and would not take any one, however good a naturalist, who was not recommended to him likewise as a _gentleman_. particulars of salary, &c., i know nothing. the voyage is to last two years, and if you take plenty of books with you, anything you please may be done. you will have ample opportunities at command. in short, i suppose there never was a finer chance for a man of zeal and spirit; captain fitz-roy is a young man. what i wish you to do is instantly to come and consult with peacock (at no. suffolk street, pall mall east, or else at the university club), and learn further particulars. don't put on any modest doubts or fears about your disqualifications, for i assure you i think you are the very man they are in search of; so conceive yourself to be tapped on the shoulder by your bum-bailiff and affectionate friend, j. s. henslow." on the strength of henslow's recommendation, peacock offered the post to darwin, who wrote from shrewsbury to henslow (august , ): "mr. peacock's letter arrived on saturday, and i received it late yesterday evening. as far as my own mind is concerned, i should, i think _certainly_, most gladly have accepted the opportunity which you so kindly have offered me. but my father, although he does not decidedly refuse me, gives such strong advice against going, that i should not be comfortable if i did not follow it. "my father's objections are these: the unfitting me to settle down as a clergyman, my little habit of seafaring, _the shortness of the time_, and the chance of my not suiting captain fitz-roy. it is certainly a very serious objection, the very short time for all my preparations, as not only body but mind wants making up for such an undertaking. but if it had not been for my father i would have taken all risks. what was the reason that a naturalist was not long ago fixed upon? i am very much obliged for the trouble you have had about it; there certainly could not have been a better opportunity.... "even if i was to go, my father disliking would take away all energy, and i should want a good stock of that. again i must thank you, it adds a little to the heavy but pleasant load of gratitude which i owe to you." the following letter was written by darwin from maer, the house of his uncle josiah wedgwood the younger. it is plain that at first he intended to await a written reply from dr. darwin, and that the expedition to shrewsbury, mentioned in the _autobiography_, was an afterthought. [maer] august [ ]. my dear father--i am afraid i am going to make you again very uncomfortable. but, upon consideration, i think you will excuse me once again stating my opinions on the offer of the voyage. my excuse and reason is the different way all the wedgwoods view the subject from what you and my sisters do. i have given uncle jos[ ] what i fervently trust is an accurate and full list of your objections, and he is kind enough to give his opinions on all. the list and his answers will be enclosed. but may i beg of you one favour, it will be doing me the greatest kindness, if you will send me a decided answer, yes or no? if the latter, i should be most ungrateful if i did not implicitly yield to your better judgment, and to the kindest indulgence you have shown me all through my life; and you may rely upon it i will never mention the subject again. if your answer should be yes; i will go directly to henslow and consult deliberately with him, and then come to shrewsbury. the danger appears to me and all the wedgwoods not great. the expense can not be serious, and the time i do not think, anyhow, would be more thrown away than if i stayed at home. but pray do not consider that i am so bent on going that i would for one _single moment_ hesitate, if you thought that after a short period you should continue uncomfortable. i must again state i cannot think it would unfit me hereafter for a steady life. i do hope this letter will not give you much uneasiness. i send it by the car to-morrow morning; if you make up your mind directly will you send me an answer on the following day by the same means? if this letter should not find you at home, i hope you will answer as soon as you conveniently can. i do not know what to say about uncle jos' kindness; i never can forget how he interests himself about me. believe me, my dear father, your affectionate son, charles darwin. here follow the objections above referred to:-- "( .) disreputable to my character as a clergyman hereafter. "( .) a wild scheme. "( .) that they must have offered to many others before me the place of naturalist. "( .) and from its not being accepted there must be some serious objection to the vessel or expedition. "( .) that i should never settle down to a steady life hereafter. "( .) that my accommodations would be most uncomfortable. "( .) that you [_i.e._ dr. darwin] should consider it as again changing my profession. "( .) that it would be a useless undertaking." josiah wedgwood having demolished this curious array of argument, and the doctor having been converted, darwin left home for cambridge. on his arrival at the red lion he sent a messenger to henslow with the following note (september nd):-- "i am just arrived; you will guess the reason. my father has changed his mind. i trust the place is not given away. i am very much fatigued, and am going to bed. i dare say you have not yet got my second letter. how soon shall i come to you in the morning? send a verbal answer." _c. d. to miss susan darwin._ cambridge [september , ]. ... the whole of yesterday i spent with henslow, thinking of what is to be done, and that i find is a great deal. by great good luck i know a man of the name of wood, nephew of lord londonderry. he is a great friend of captain fitz-roy, and has written to him about me. i heard a part of captain fitz-roy's letter, dated some time ago, in which he says: 'i have a right good set of officers, and most of my men have been there before.' it seems he has been there for the last few years; he was then second in command with the same vessel that he has now chosen. he is only twenty-three years old, but [has] seen a deal of service, and won the gold medal at portsmouth. the admiralty say his maps are most perfect. he had choice of two vessels, and he chose the smallest. henslow will give me letters to all travellers in town whom he thinks may assist me. ... i write as if it was settled, but henslow tells me _by no means_ to make up my mind till i have had long conversations with captains beaufort and fitz-roy. good-bye. you will hear from me constantly. direct spring gardens. _tell nobody_ in shropshire yet. be sure not. i was so tired that evening i was in shrewsbury that i thanked none of you for your kindness half so much as i felt. love to my father. the reason i don't want people told in shropshire: in case i should not go, it will make it more flat. at this stage of the transaction, a hitch occurred. captain fitz-roy, it seems, wished to take a friend (mr. chester) as companion on the voyage, and accordingly wrote to cambridge in such a discouraging strain, that darwin gave up hope and hardly thought it worth his while to go to london (september ). fortunately, however, he did go, and found that mr. chester could not leave england. when the physiognomical, or nose-difficulty (autobiography, p. .) occurred, i have no means of knowing: for at this interview fitz-roy was evidently well-disposed towards him. my father wrote:-- "he offers me to go shares in everything in his cabin if i like to come, and every sort of accommodation i can have, but they will not be numerous. he says nothing would be so miserable for him as having me with him if i was uncomfortable, as in a small vessel we must be thrown together, and thought it his duty to state everything in the worst point of view. i think i shall go on sunday to plymouth to see the vessel. "there is something most extremely attractive in his manners and way of coming straight to the point. if i live with him, he says i must live poorly--no wine, and the plainest dinners. the scheme is not certainly so good as peacock describes. captain fitz-roy advises me not [to] make up my mind quite yet, but that, seriously, he thinks it will have much more pleasure than pain for me.... "the want of room is decidedly the most serious objection; but captain fitz-roy (probably owing to wood's letter) seems determined to make me [as] comfortable as he possibly can. i like his manner of proceeding. he asked me at once, 'shall you bear being told that i want the cabin to myself--when i want to be alone? if we treat each other this way, i hope we shall suit; if not, probably we should wish each other at the devil.'" _c. d. to miss susan darwin._ london [september , ]. my dear susan--again i am going to trouble you. i suspect, if i keep on at this rate, you will sincerely wish me at tierra del fuego, or any other terra, but england. first, i will give my commissions. tell nancy to make me some twelve instead of eight shirts. tell edward to send me up in my carpet-bag (he can slip the key in the bag tied to some string), my slippers, a pair of lightish walking-shoes, my spanish books, my new microscope (about six inches long and three or four deep), which must have cotton stuffed inside; my geological compass; my father knows that; a little book, if i have got it in my bed room--_taxidermy_. ask my father if he thinks there would be any objection to my taking arsenic for a little time, as my hands are not quite well, and i have always observed that if i once get them well, and change my manner of living about the same time, they will generally remain well. what is the dose? tell edward my gun is dirty. what is erasmus's direction? tell me if you think there is time to write and to receive an answer before i start, as i should like particularly to know what he thinks about it. i suppose you do not know sir j. mackintosh's direction? i write all this as if it was settled, but it is not more than it was, excepting that from captain fitz-roy wishing me so much to go, and, from his kindness, i feel a predestination i shall start. i spent a very pleasant evening with him yesterday. he must be more than twenty-three years old; he is of a slight figure, and a dark but handsome edition of mr. kynaston, and, according to my notions, pre-eminently good manners. he is all for economy, excepting on one point--viz., fire-arms. he recommends me strongly to get a case of pistols like his, which cost £ !! and never to go on shore anywhere without loaded ones, and he is doubting about a rifle; he says i cannot appreciate the luxury of fresh meat here. of course i shall buy nothing till everything is settled; but i work all day long at my lists, putting in and striking out articles. this is the first really cheerful day i have spent since i received the letter, and it all is owing to the sort of involuntary confidence i place in my _beau ideal_ of a captain. we stop at teneriffe. his object is to stop at as many places as possible. he takes out twenty chronometers, and it will be a "sin" not to settle the longitude. he tells me to get it down in writing at the admiralty that i have the free choice to leave as soon and whenever i like. i daresay you expect i shall turn back at the madeira; if i have a morsel of stomach left, i won't give up. excuse my so often troubling and writing: the one is of great utility, the other a great amusement to me. most likely i shall write to-morrow. answer by return of post. love to my father, dearest susan. _c. d. to j. s. henslow._ devonport [november , ]. my dear henslow--the orders are come down from the admiralty, and everything is finally settled. we positively sail the last day of this month, and i think before that time the vessel will be ready. she looks most beautiful, even a landsman must admire her. _we_ all think her the most perfect vessel ever turned out of the dockyard. one thing is certain, no vessel has been fitted out so expensively, and with so much care. everything that can be made so is of mahogany, and nothing can exceed the neatness and beauty of all the accommodations. the instructions are very general, and leave a great deal to the captain's discretion and judgment, paying a substantial as well as a verbal compliment to him.... no vessel ever left england with such a set of chronometers, viz. twenty-four, all very good ones. in short, everything is well, and i have only now to pray for the sickness to moderate its fierceness, and i shall do very well. yet i should not call it one of the very best opportunities for natural history that has ever occurred. the absolute want of room is an evil that nothing can surmount. i think l. jenyns did very wisely in not coming, that is judging from my own feelings, for i am sure if i had left college some few years, or been those years older i _never_ could have endured it. the officers (excepting the captain) are like the freshest freshmen, that is in their manners, in everything else widely different. remember me most kindly to him, and tell him if ever he dreams in the night of palm-trees, he may in the morning comfort himself with the assurance that the voyage would not have suited him. i am much obliged for your advice, _de mathematicis_. i suspect when i am struggling with a triangle, i shall often wish myself in your room, and as for those wicked sulky surds, i do not know what i shall do without you to conjure them. my time passes away very pleasantly. i know one or two pleasant people, foremost of whom is mr. thunder-and-lightning harris,[ ] whom i dare say you have heard of. my chief employment is to go on board the _beagle_, and try to look as much like a sailor as i can. i have no evidence of having taken in man, woman or child. i am going to ask you to do one more commission, and i trust it will be the last. when i was in cambridge, i wrote to mr. ash, asking him to send my college account to my father, after having subtracted about £ for my furniture. this he has forgotten to do, and my father has paid the bill, and i want to have the furniture-money transmitted to my father. perhaps you would be kind enough to speak to mr. ash. i have cost my father so much money, i am quite ashamed of myself. i will write once again before sailing, and perhaps you will write to me before then. believe me, yours affectionately, _c. d. to j. s. henslow._ devonport [december , ]. my dear henslow--it is now late in the evening, and to-night i am going to sleep on board. on monday we most certainly sail, so you may guess in what a desperate state of confusion we are all in. if you were to hear the various exclamations of the officers, you would suppose we had scarcely had a week's notice. i am just in the same way taken all _aback_, and in such a bustle i hardly know what to do. the number of things to be done is infinite. i look forward even to sea-sickness with something like satisfaction, anything must be better than this state of anxiety. i am very much obliged for your last kind and affectionate letter. i always like advice from you, and no one whom i have the luck to know is more capable of giving it than yourself. recollect, when you write, that i am a sort of _protégé_ of yours, and that it is your bounden duty to lecture me. i will now give you my direction: it is at first, rio; but if you will send me a letter on the first tuesday (when the packet sails) in february, directed to monte video, it will give me very great pleasure: i shall so much enjoy hearing a little cambridge news. poor dear old _alma mater_! i am a very worthy son in as far as affection goes. i have little more to write about.... i cannot end this without telling you how cordially i feel grateful for the kindness you have shown me during my cambridge life. much of the pleasure and utility which i may have derived from it is owing to you. i long for the time when we shall again meet, and till then believe me, my dear henslow, your affectionate and obliged friend, ch. darwin. footnotes: [ ] "on tuesday last charles darwin, of christ's college, was admitted b.a."--_cambridge chronicle_, friday, april th, . [ ] readers of calverley (another christ's man) will remember his tobacco poem ending "hero's to thee, bacon." [ ] the rooms are on the first floor, on the west side of the middle staircase. a medallion (given by my brother) has recently been let into the wall of the sitting-room. [ ] for instance in a letter to hooker ( ):--"many thanks for your welcome note from cambridge, and i am glad you like my _alma mater_, which i despise heartily as a place of education, but love from many most pleasant recollections." [ ] autobiography p. . [ ] from a letter to w. d. fox. [ ] no doubt in allusion to the title of lord herbert of cherbury. [ ] _panagæus crux-major._ [ ] formerly reader in natural philosophy at durham university. [ ] blane was afterwards, i believe, in the life guards; he was in the crimean war, and afterwards military attaché at st. petersburg. i am indebted to mr. hamilton for information about some of my father's contemporaries. [ ] brother of lord sherbrooke. [ ] march , . [ ] the postmark being derby seems to show that the letter was written from his cousin, w. d. fox's house, osmaston, near derby. [ ] the top of the hill immediately behind barmouth was called craig-storm, a hybrid cambro-english word. [ ] rev. t. butler, a son of the former head master of shrewsbury school. [ ] no doubt a paid collector. [ ] the "captain" is at the head of the "poll": the "apostles" are the last twelve in the mathematical tripos. [ ] for an explanation of the word "gulfed" or "gulphed," see mr. w. w. rouse balls' interesting _history of the study of mathematics at cambridge_ ( ), p. . [ ] the _beagle_ should have started on nov. , but was delayed until dec. . [ ] see, too, a sketch by my father of his old master, in the rev. l. blomefield's _memoir of professor henslow_. [ ] the copy of humboldt given by henslow to my father, which is in my possession, is a double memento of the two men--the author and the donor, who so greatly influenced his life. [ ] formerly dean of ely, and lowndean professor of astronomy at cambridge. [ ] josiah wedgwood. [ ] william snow harris, the electrician. [illustration: the 'beagle' laid ashore, river santa cruz.] chapter vi. the voyage. "there is a natural good-humoured energy in his letters just like himself."--from a letter of dr. r. w. darwin's to professor henslow. the object of the _beagle_ voyage is briefly described in my father's _journal of researches_, p. , as being "to complete the survey of patagonia and tierra del fuego, commenced under captain king in to ; to survey the shores of chile, peru, and some islands in the pacific; and to carry a chain of chronometrical measurements round the world." the _beagle_ is described[ ] as a well-built little vessel, of tons, rigged as a barque, and carrying six guns. she belonged to the old class of ten-gun brigs, which were nicknamed "coffins," from their liability to go down in severe weather. they were very "deep-waisted," that is, their bulwarks were high in proportion to their size, so that a heavy sea breaking over them might be highly dangerous. nevertheless, she had already lived through five years' work, in the most stormy regions in the world, under commanders stokes and fitz-roy without a serious accident. when re-commissioned in for her second voyage, she was found (as i learned from the late admiral sir james sulivan) to be so rotten that she had practically to be rebuilt, and it was this that caused the long delay in refitting. she was fitted out for the expedition with all possible care: to quote my father's description, written from devonport, november , : "everybody, who can judge, says it is one of the grandest voyages that has almost ever been sent out. everything is on a grand scale.... in short, everything is as prosperous as human means can make it." the twenty-four chronometers and the mahogany fittings seem to have been especially admired, and are more than once alluded to. owing to the smallness of the vessel, every one on board was cramped for room, and my father's accommodation seems to have been narrow enough. yet of this confined space he wrote enthusiastically, september , :--"when i wrote last, i was in great alarm about my cabin. the cabins were not then marked out, but when i left they were, and mine is a capital one, certainly next best to the captain's and remarkably light. my companion most luckily, i think, will turn out to be the officer whom i shall like best. captain fitz-roy says he will take care that one corner is so fitted up that i shall be comfortable in it and shall consider it my home, but that also i shall have the run of his. my cabin is the drawing one; and in the middle is a large table, on which we two sleep in hammocks. but for the first two months there will be no drawing to be done, so that it will be quite a luxurious room, and a good deal larger than the captain's cabin." my father used to say that it was the absolute necessity of tidiness in the cramped space on the _beagle_ that helped "to give him his methodical habits of working." on the _beagle_, too, he would say, that he learned what he considered the golden rule for saving time; _i.e._, taking care of the minutes. in a letter to his sister (july ), he writes contentedly of his manner of life at sea:--"i do not think i have ever given you an account of how the day passes. we breakfast at eight o'clock. the invariable maxim is to throw away all politeness--that is, never to wait for each other, and bolt off the minute one has done eating, &c. at sea, when the weather is calm, i work at marine animals, with which the whole ocean abounds. if there is any sea up i am either sick or contrive to read some voyage or travels. at one we dine. you shore-going people are lamentably mistaken about the manner of living on board. we have never yet (nor shall we) dined off salt meat. rice and peas and _calavanses_ are excellent vegetables, and, with good bread, who could want more? judge alderson could not be more temperate, as nothing but water comes on the table. at five we have tea." the crew of the _beagle_ consisted of captain fitz-roy, "commander and surveyor," two lieutenants, one of whom (the first lieutenant) was the late captain wickham, governor of queensland; the late admiral sir james sulivan, k.c.b., was the second lieutenant. besides the master and two mates, there was an assistant-surveyor, the late admiral lort stokes. there were also a surgeon, assistant-surgeon, two midshipmen, master's mate, a volunteer ( st class), purser, carpenter, clerk, boatswain, eight marines, thirty-four seamen, and six boys. there are not now ( ) many survivors of my father's old ship-mates. admiral mellersh, and mr. philip king, of the legislative council of sydney, are among the number. admiral johnson died almost at the same time as my father. my father retained to the last a most pleasant recollection of the voyage of the _beagle_, and of the friends he made on board her. to his children their names were familiar, from his many stories of the voyage, and we caught his feeling of friendship for many who were to us nothing more than names. it is pleasant to know how affectionately his old companions remember him. sir james sulivan remained, throughout my father's lifetime, one of his best and truest friends. he writes:--"i can confidently express my belief that during the five years in the _beagle_, he was never known to be out of temper, or to say one unkind or hasty word _of_ or _to_ any one. you will therefore readily understand how this, combined with the admiration of his energy and ability, led to our giving him the name of 'the dear old philosopher.'"[ ] admiral mellersh writes to me:--"your father is as vividly in my mind's eye as if it was only a week ago that i was in the _beagle_ with him; his genial smile and conversation can never be forgotten by any who saw them and heard them. i was sent on two or three occasions away in a boat with him on some of his scientific excursions, and always looked forward to these trips with great pleasure, an anticipation that, unlike many others, was always realised. i think he was the only man i ever knew against whom i never heard a word said; and as people when shut up in a ship for five years are apt to get cross with each other, that is saying a good deal." admiral stokes, mr. king, mr. usborne, and mr. hamond, all speak of their friendship with him in the same warm-hearted way. captain fitz-roy was a strict officer, and made himself thoroughly respected both by officers and men. the occasional severity of his manner was borne with because every one on board knew that his first thought was his duty, and that he would sacrifice anything to the real welfare of the ship. my father writes, july : "we all jog on very well together, there is no quarrelling on board, which is something to say. the captain keeps all smooth by rowing every one in turn." my father speaks of the officers as a fine determined set of men, and especially of wickham, the first lieutenant, as a "glorious fellow." the latter being responsible for the smartness and appearance of the ship strongly objected to darwin littering the decks, and spoke of specimens as "d----d beastly devilment," and used to add, "if i were skipper, i would soon have you and all your d----d mess out of the place." a sort of halo of sanctity was given to my father by the fact of his dining in the captain's cabin, so that the midshipmen used at first to call him "sir," a formality, however, which did not prevent his becoming fast friends with the younger officers. he wrote about the year or to mr. p. g. king, m.l.c., sydney, who, as before stated, was a midshipman on board the _beagle_:--"the remembrance of old days, when we used to sit and talk on the booms of the _beagle_, will always, to the day of my death, make me glad to hear of your happiness and prosperity." mr. king describes the pleasure my father seemed to take "in pointing out to me as a youngster the delights of the tropical nights, with their balmy breezes eddying out of the sails above us, and the sea lighted up by the passage of the ship through the never-ending streams of phosphorescent animalculæ." it has been assumed that his ill-health in later years was due to his having suffered so much from sea-sickness. this he did not himself believe, but rather ascribed his bad health to the hereditary fault which took shape as gout in some of the past generations. i am not quite clear as to how much he actually suffered from sea-sickness; my impression is distinct that, according to his own memory, he was not actually ill after the first three weeks, but constantly uncomfortable when the vessel pitched at all heavily. but, judging from his letters, and from the evidence of some of the officers, it would seem that in later years he forgot the extent of the discomfort. writing june , , from the cape of good hope, he says: "it is a lucky thing for me that the voyage is drawing to its close, for i positively suffer more from sea-sickness now than three years ago." _c. d. to r. w. darwin._ bahia, or san salvador, brazil. [february , .] i find after the first page i have been writing to my sisters. my dear father--i am writing this on the th of february, one day's sail past st. jago (cape de verd), and intend taking the chance of meeting with a homeward-bound vessel somewhere about the equator. the date, however, will tell this whenever the opportunity occurs. i will now begin from the day of leaving england, and give a short account of our progress. we sailed, as you know, on the th of december, and have been fortunate enough to have had from that time to the present a fair and moderate breeze. it afterwards proved that we had escaped a heavy gale in the channel, another at madeira, and another on [the] coast of africa. but in escaping the gale, we felt its consequence--a heavy sea. in the bay of biscay there was a long and continuous swell, and the misery i endured from sea-sickness is far beyond what i ever guessed at. i believe you are curious about it. i will give you all my dear-bought experience. nobody who has only been to sea for twenty-four hours has a right to say that sea-sickness is even uncomfortable. the real misery only begins when you are so exhausted that a little exertion makes a feeling of faintness come on. i found nothing but lying in my hammock did me any good. i must especially except your receipt of raisins, which is the only food that the stomach will bear. on the th of january we were not many miles from madeira, but as there was a heavy sea running, and the island lay to windward, it was not thought worth while to beat up to it. it afterwards has turned out it was lucky we saved ourselves the trouble. i was much too sick even to get up to see the distant outline. on the th, in the evening, we sailed into the harbour of santa cruz. i now first felt even moderately well, and i was picturing to myself all the delights of fresh fruit growing in beautiful valleys, and reading humboldt's description of the island's glorious views, when perhaps you may nearly guess at our disappointment, when a small pale man informed us we must perform a strict quarantine of twelve days. there was a death-like stillness in the ship till the captain cried "up jib," and we left this long wished-for place. we were becalmed for a day between teneriffe and the grand canary, and here i first experienced any enjoyment. the view was glorious. the peak of teneriffe was seen amongst the clouds like another world. our only drawback was the extreme wish of visiting this glorious island. from teneriffe to st. jago the voyage was extremely pleasant. i had a net astern the vessel which caught great numbers of curious animals, and fully occupied my time in my cabin, and on deck the weather was so delightful and clear, that the sky and water together made a picture. on the th we arrived at port praya, the capital of the cape de verds, and there we remained twenty-three days, viz. till yesterday, the th of february. the time has flown away most delightfully, indeed nothing can be pleasanter; exceedingly busy, and that business both a duty and a great delight. i do not believe i have spent one half-hour idly since leaving teneriffe. st. jago has afforded me an exceedingly rich harvest in several branches of natural history. i find the descriptions scarcely worth anything of many of the commoner animals that inhabit the tropics. i allude, of course, to those of the lower classes. geologising in a volcanic country is most delightful; besides the interest attached to itself, it leads you into most beautiful and retired spots. nobody but a person fond of natural history can imagine the pleasure of strolling under cocoa-nuts in a thicket of bananas and coffee-plants, and an endless number of wild flowers. and this island, that has given me so much instruction and delight, is reckoned the most uninteresting place that we perhaps shall touch at during our voyage. it certainly is generally very barren, but the valleys are more exquisitely beautiful, from the very contrast. it is utterly useless to say anything about the scenery; it would be as profitable to explain to a blind man colours, as to a person who has not been out of europe, the total dissimilarity of a tropical view. whenever i enjoy anything, i always either look forward to writing it down, either in my log-book (which increases in bulk), or in a letter; so you must excuse raptures, and those raptures badly expressed. i find my collections are increasing wonderfully, and from rio i think i shall be obliged to send a cargo home. all the endless delays which we experienced at plymouth have been most fortunate, as i verily believe no person ever went out better provided for collecting and observing in the different branches of natural history. in a multitude of counsellors i certainly found good. i find to my great surprise that a ship is singularly comfortable for all sorts of work. everything is so close at hand, and being cramped makes one so methodical, that in the end i have been a gainer. i already have got to look at going to sea as a regular quiet place, like going back to home after staying away from it. in short, i find a ship a very comfortable house, with everything you want, and if it was not for sea-sickness the whole world would be sailors. i do not think there is much danger of erasmus setting the example, but in case there should be, he may rely upon it he does not know one-tenth of the sufferings of sea-sickness. i like the officers much more than i did at first, especially wickham, and young king and stokes, and indeed all of them. the captain continues steadily very kind, and does everything in his power to assist me. we see very little of each other when in harbour, our pursuits lead us in such different tracks. i never in my life met with a man who could endure nearly so great a share of fatigue. he works incessantly, and when apparently not employed, he is thinking. if he does not kill himself, he will during this voyage do a wonderful quantity of work.... _february th._--about miles from bahia. we have been singularly unlucky in not meeting with any homeward-bound vessels, but i suppose [at] bahia we certainly shall be able to write to england. since writing the first part of [this] letter nothing has occurred except crossing the equator, and being shaved. this most disagreeable operation, consists in having your face rubbed with paint and tar, which forms a lather for a saw which represents the razor, and then being half drowned in a sail filled with salt water. about miles north of the line we touched at the rocks of st. paul; this little speck (about ¼ of a mile across) in the atlantic has seldom been visited. it is totally barren, but is covered by hosts of birds; they were so unused to men that we found we could kill plenty with stones and sticks. after remaining some hours on the island, we returned on board with the boat loaded with our prey.[ ] from this we went to fernando noronha, a small island where the [brazilians] send their exiles. the landing there was attended with so much difficulty owing [to] a heavy surf that the captain determined to sail the next day after arriving. my one day on shore was exceedingly interesting, the whole island is one single wood so matted together by creepers that it is very difficult to move out of the beaten path. i find the natural history of all these unfrequented spots most exceedingly interesting, especially the geology. i have written this much in order to save time at bahia. decidedly the most striking thing in the tropics is the novelty of the vegetable forms. cocoa-nuts could well be imagined from drawings, if you add to them a graceful lightness which no european tree partakes of. bananas and plantains are exactly the same as those in hothouses, the acacias or tamarinds are striking from the blueness of their foliage; but of the glorious orange trees, no description, no drawings, will give any just idea; instead of the sickly green of our oranges, the native ones exceed the portugal laurel in the darkness of their tint, and infinitely exceed it in beauty of form. cocoa-nuts, papaws, the light-green bananas, and oranges, loaded with fruit, generally surround the more luxuriant villages. whilst viewing such scenes, one feels the impossibility that any description should come near the mark, much less be over-drawn. _march st._--bahia, or san salvador. i arrived at this place on the th of february, and am now writing this letter after having in real earnest strolled in the forests of the new world. no person could imagine anything so beautiful as the ancient town of bahia, it is fairly embosomed in a luxuriant wood of beautiful trees, and situated on a steep bank, and overlooks the calm waters of the great bay of all saints. the houses are white and lofty, and, from the windows being narrow and long, have a very light and elegant appearance. convents, porticos, and public buildings, vary the uniformity of the houses; the bay is scattered over with large ships; in short, and what can be said more, it is one of the finest views in the brazils. but the exquisite glorious pleasure of walking amongst such flowers, and such trees, cannot be comprehended but by those who have experienced it.[ ] although in so low a latitude the locality is not disagreeably hot, but at present it is very damp, for it is the rainy season. i find the climate as yet agrees admirably with me; it makes me long to live quietly for some time in such a country. if you really want to have [an idea] of tropical countries, study humboldt. skip the scientific parts, and commence after leaving teneriffe. my feelings amount to admiration the more i read him.... this letter will go on the th, and i am afraid will be some time before it reaches you; it must be a warning how in other parts of the world you may be a long time without hearing. a year might by accident thus pass. about the th we start for rio, but we remain some time on the way in sounding the albrolhos shoals.... we have beat all the ships in manoeuvring, so much so that the commanding officer says we need not follow his example; because we do everything better than his great ship. i begin to take great interest in naval points, more especially now, as i find they all say we are the no. in south america. i suppose the captain is a most excellent officer. it was quite glorious to-day how we beat the _samarang_ in furling sails. it is quite a new thing for a "sounding ship" to beat a regular man-of-war; and yet the _beagle_ is not at all a particular ship. erasmus will clearly perceive it when he hears that in the night i have actually sat down in the sacred precincts of the quarter deck. you must excuse these queer letters, and recollect they are generally written in the evening after my day's work. i take more pains over my log-book, so that eventually you will have a good account of all the places i visit. hitherto the voyage has answered _admirably_ to me, and yet i am now more fully aware of your wisdom in throwing cold water on the whole scheme; the chances are so numerous of [its] turning out quite the reverse; to such an extent do i feel this, that if my advice was asked by any person on a similar occasion, i should be very cautious in encouraging him. i have not time to write to anybody else, so send to maer to let them know, that in the midst of the glorious tropical scenery, i do not forget how instrumental they were in placing me there. i will not rapturise again, but i give myself great credit in not being crazy out of pure delight. give my love to every soul at home, and to the owens. i think one's affections, like other good things, flourish and increase in these tropical regions. the conviction that i am walking in the new world is even yet marvellous in my own eyes, and i daresay it is little less so to you, the receiving a letter from a son of yours in such a quarter. believe me, my dear father, your most affectionate son. the _beagle_ letters give ample proof of his strong love of home, and all connected with it, from his father down to nancy, his old nurse, to whom he sometimes sends his love. his delight in home-letters is shown in such passages as:--"but if you knew the glowing, unspeakable delight, which i felt at being certain that my father and all of you were well, only four months ago, you would not grudge the labour lost in keeping up the regular series of letters." "you would be surprised to know how entirely the pleasure in arriving at a new place depends on letters." "i saw the other day a vessel sail for england; it was quite dangerous to know how easily i might turn deserter. as for an english lady, i have almost forgotten what she is--something very angelic and good." "i have just received a bundle more letters. i do not know how to thank you all sufficiently. one from catherine, february th, another from susan, march rd, together with notes from caroline and from my father; give my best love to my father. i almost cried for pleasure at receiving it; it was very kind thinking of writing to me. my letters are both few, short, and stupid in return for all yours; but i always ease my conscience, by considering the journal as a long letter." or again--his longing to return in words like these:--"it is too delightful to think that i shall see the leaves fall and hear the robin sing next autumn at shrewsbury. my feelings are those of a school-boy to the smallest point; i doubt whether ever boy longed for his holidays as much as i do to see you all again. i am at present, although nearly half the world is between me and home, beginning to arrange what i shall do, where i shall go during the first week." "no schoolboys ever sung the half-sentimental and half-jovial strain of 'dulce domum' with more fervour than we all feel inclined to do. but the whole subject of 'dulce domum,' and the delight of seeing one's friends, is most dangerous, it must infallibly make one very prosy or very boisterous. oh, the degree to which i long to be once again living quietly with not one single novel object near me! no one can imagine it till he has been whirled round the world during five long years in a ten-gun brig." the following extracts may serve to give an idea of the impressions now crowding on him, as well as of the vigorous delight with which he plunged into scientific work. may , , to henslow:-- "here [rio], i first saw a tropical forest in all its sublime grandeur--nothing but the reality can give any idea how wonderful, how magnificent the scene is. if i was to specify any one thing i should give the pre-eminence to the host of parasitical plants. your engraving is exactly true, but under-rates rather than exaggerates the luxuriance. i never experienced such intense delight. i formerly admired humboldt, i now almost adore him; he alone gives any notion of the feelings which are raised in the mind on first entering the tropics. i am now collecting fresh-water and land animals; if what was told me in london is true, viz., that there are no small insects in the collections from the tropics, i tell entomologists to look out and have their pens ready for describing. i have taken as minute (if not more so) as in england, hydropori, hygroti, hydrobii, pselaphi, staphylini, curculio, &c. &c. it is exceedingly interesting observing the difference of genera and species from those which i know; it is however much less than i had expected. i am at present red-hot with spiders; they are very interesting, and if i am not mistaken i have already taken some new genera. i shall have a large box to send very soon to cambridge, and with that i will mention some more natural history particulars." "one great source of perplexity to me is an utter ignorance whether i note the right facts, and whether they are of sufficient importance to interest others. in the one thing collecting i cannot go wrong." "geology carries the day: it is like the pleasure of gambling. speculating, on first arriving, what the rocks may be, i often mentally cry out to tertiary against primitive; but the latter have hitherto won all the bets. so much for the grand end of my voyage: in other respects things are equally flourishing. my life, when at sea, is so quiet, that to a person who can employ himself, nothing can be pleasanter; the beauty of the sky and brilliancy of the ocean together make a picture. but when on shore, and wandering in the sublime forests, surrounded by views more gorgeous than even claude ever imagined, i enjoy a delight which none but those who have experienced it can understand. at our ancient snug breakfasts, at cambridge, i little thought that the wide atlantic would ever separate us; but it is a rare privilege that with the body, the feelings and memory are not divided. on the contrary, the pleasantest scenes in my life, many of which have been in cambridge, rise from the contrast of the present, the more vividly in my imagination. do you think any diamond beetle will ever give me so much pleasure as our old friend _crux-major_?... it is one of my most constant amusements to draw pictures of the past; and in them i often see you and poor little fan. oh, lord, and then old dash poor thing! do you recollect how you all tormented me about his beautiful tail?"--[from a letter to fox.] to his sister, june :-- "i am quite delighted to find the hide of the megatherium has given you all some little interest in my employments. these fragments are not, however, by any means the most valuable of the geological relics. i trust and believe that the time spent in this voyage, if thrown away for all other respects, will produce its full worth in natural history; and it appears to me the doing what _little_ we can to increase the general stock of knowledge is as respectable an object of life as one can in any likelihood pursue. it is more the result of such reflections (as i have already said) than much immediate pleasure which now makes me continue the voyage, together with the glorious prospect of the future, when passing the straits of magellan, we have in truth the world before us." to fox, july :-- "i am glad to hear you have some thoughts of beginning geology. i hope you will; there is so much larger a field for thought than in the other branches of natural history. i am become a zealous disciple of mr. lyell's views, as known in his admirable book. geologising in south america, i am tempted to carry parts to a greater extent even than he does. geology is a capital science to begin, as it requires nothing but a little reading, thinking, and hammering. i have a considerable body of notes together; but it is a constant subject of perplexity to me, whether they are of sufficient value for all the time i have spent about them, or whether animals would not have been of more certain value." in the following letter to his sister susan he gives an account,--adapted to the non-geological mind,--of his south american work:-- valparaiso, april , . my dear susan--i received, a few days since, your letter of november; the three letters which i before mentioned are yet missing, but i do not doubt they will come to life. i returned a week ago from my excursion across the andes to mendoza. since leaving england i have never made so successful a journey; it has, however, been very expensive. i am sure my father would not regret it, if he could know how deeply i have enjoyed it: it was something more than enjoyment; i cannot express the delight which i felt at such a famous winding-up of all my geology in south america. i literally could hardly sleep at nights for thinking over my day's work. the scenery was so new, and so majestic; everything at an elevation of , feet bears so different an aspect from that in a lower country. i have seen many views more beautiful, but none with so strongly marked a character. to a geologist, also, there are such manifest proofs of excessive violence; the strata of the highest pinnacles are tossed about like the crust of a broken pie. i do not suppose any of you can be much interested in geological details, but i will just mention my principal results:--besides understanding to a certain extent the description and manner of the force which has elevated this great line of mountains, i can clearly demonstrate that one part of the double line is of an age long posterior to the other. in the more ancient line, which is the true chain of the andes, i can describe the sort and order of the rocks which compose it. these are chiefly remarkable by containing a bed of gypsum nearly feet thick--a quantity of this substance i should think unparalleled in the world. what is of much greater consequence, i have procured fossil shells (from an elevation of , feet). i think an examination of these will give an approximate age to these mountains, as compared to the strata of europe. in the other line of the cordilleras there is a strong presumption (in my own mind, conviction) that the enormous mass of mountains, the peaks of which rise to , and , feet, are so very modern as to be contemporaneous with the plains of patagonia (or about with the _upper_ strata of the isle of wight). if this result shall be considered as proved,[ ] it is a very important fact in the theory of the formation of the world; because, if such wonderful changes have taken place so recently in the crust of the globe, there can be no reason for supposing former epochs of excessive violence.... another feature in his letters is the surprise and delight with which he hears of his collections and observations being of some use. it seems only to have gradually occurred to him that he would ever be more than a collector of specimens and facts, of which the great men were to make use. and even as to the value of his collections he seems to have had much doubt, for he wrote to henslow in : "i really began to think that my collections were so poor that you were puzzled what to say; the case is now quite on the opposite tack, for you are guilty of exciting all my vain feelings to a most comfortable pitch; if hard work will atone for these thoughts, i vow it shall not be spared." again, to his sister susan in august, :-- "both your letters were full of good news; especially the expressions which you tell me professor sedgwick[ ] used about my collections. i confess they are deeply gratifying--i trust one part at least will turn out true, and that i shall act as i now think--as a man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life. professor sedgwick mentioning my name at all gives me hopes that he will assist me with his advice, of which, in my geological questions, i stand much in need." occasional allusions to slavery show us that his feeling on this subject was at this time as strong as in later life[ ]:-- "the captain does everything in his power to assist me, and we get on very well, but i thank my better fortune he has not made me a renegade to whig principles. i would not be a tory, if it was merely on account of their cold hearts about that scandal to christian nations--slavery." "i have watched how steadily the general feeling, as shown at elections, has been rising against slavery. what a proud thing for england if she is the first european nation which utterly abolishes it! i was told before leaving england that after living in slave countries all my opinions would be altered; the only alteration i am aware of is forming a much higher estimate of the negro character. it is impossible to see a negro and not feel kindly towards him; such cheerful, open, honest expressions and such fine muscular bodies. i never saw any of the diminutive portuguese, with their murderous countenances, without almost wishing for brazil to follow the example of hayti; and, considering the enormous healthy-looking black population, it will be wonderful if, at some future day, it does not take place. there is at rio a man (i know not his title) who has a large salary to prevent (i believe) the landing of slaves; he lives at botofogo, and yet that was the bay where, during my residence, the greater number of smuggled slaves were landed. some of the anti-slavery people ought to question about his office; it was the subject of conversation at rio amongst the lower english...." _c. d. to j. s. henslow._ sydney [january, ]. my dear henslow--this is the last opportunity of communicating with you before that joyful day when i shall reach cambridge. i have very little to say: but i must write if it is only to express my joy that the last year is concluded, and that the present one, in which the _beagle_ will return, is gliding onward. we have all been disappointed here in not finding even a single letter; we are, indeed, rather before our expected time, otherwise i dare say, i should have seen your handwriting. i must feed upon the future, and it is beyond bounds delightful to feel the certainty that within eight months i shall be residing once again most quietly in cambridge. certainly, i never was intended for a traveller; my thoughts are always rambling over past or future scenes; i cannot enjoy the present happiness for anticipating the future, which is about as foolish as the dog who dropped the real bone for its shadow.... i must return to my old resource and think of the future, but that i may not become more prosy, i will say farewell till the day arrives, when i shall see my master in natural history, and can tell him how grateful i feel for his kindness and friendship. believe me, dear henslow, ever yours most faithfully. _c. d. to j. s. henslow._ shrewsbury [october, ]. my dear henslow--i am sure you will congratulate me on the delight of once again being home. the _beagle_ arrived at falmouth on sunday evening, and i reached shrewsbury yesterday morning. i am exceedingly anxious to see you, and as it will be necessary in four or five days to return to london to get my goods and chattels out of the _beagle_, it appears to me my best plan to pass through cambridge. i want your advice on many points; indeed i am in the clouds, and neither know what to do or where to go. my chief puzzle is about the geological specimens--who will have the charity to help me in describing their mineralogical nature? will you be kind enough to write to me one line by _return of post_, saying whether you are now at cambridge? i am doubtful till i hear from captain fitz-roy whether i shall not be obliged to start before the answer can arrive, but pray try the chance. my dear henslow, i do long to see you; you have been the kindest friend to me that ever man possessed. i can write no more, for i am giddy with joy and confusion. farewell for the present, yours most truly obliged. after his return and settlement in london, he began to realise the value of what he had done, and wrote to captain fitz-roy--"however others may look back to the _beagle's_ voyage, now that the small disagreeable parts are well-nigh forgotten, i think it far the _most fortunate circumstance in my life_ that the chance afforded by your offer of taking a naturalist fell on me. i often have the most vivid and delightful pictures of what i saw on board the _beagle_[ ] pass before my eyes. these recollections, and what i learnt on natural history, i would not exchange for twice ten thousand a year." footnotes: [ ] _voyages of the adventure and beagle_, vol. i. introduction xii. the illustration at the head of the chapter is from vol. ii. of the same work. [ ] his other nickname was "the flycatcher." i have heard my father tell how he overheard the boatswain of the _beagle_ showing another boatswain over the ship, and pointing out the officers: "that's our first lieutenant; that's our doctor; that's our flycatcher." [ ] "there was such a scene here. wickham ( st lieutenant) and i were the only two who landed with guns and geological hammers, &c. the birds by myriads were too close to shoot; we then tried stones, but at last, _proh pudor!_ my geological hammer was the instrument of death. we soon loaded the boat with birds and eggs. whilst we were so engaged, the men in the boat were fairly fighting with the sharks for such magnificent fish as you could not see in the london market. our boat would have made a fine subject for snyders, such a medley of game it contained."--from a letter to herbert. [ ] "my mind has been, since leaving england, in a perfect hurricane of delight and astonishment."--_c. d. to fox_, may , from botofogo bay. [ ] the importance of these results has been fully recognized by geologists. [ ] sedgwick wrote (november , ) to dr. butler, the head master of shrewsbury school:--"he is doing admirable work in south america, and has already sent home a collection above all price. it was the best thing in the world for him that he went out on the voyage of discovery. there was some risk of his turning out an idle man, but his character will now be fixed, and if god spares his life he will have a great name among the naturalists of europe...."--i am indebted to my friend mr. j. w. clark, the biographer of sedgwick, for the above extract. [ ] compare the following passage from a letter (aug. , ) addressed to lyell, who had touched on slavery in his _travels in north america._ "i was delighted with your letter in which you touch on slavery; i wish the same feelings had been apparent in your published discussion. but i will not write on this subject, i should perhaps annoy you, and most certainly myself. i have exhaled myself with a paragraph or two in my journal on the sin of brazilian slavery; you perhaps will think that it is in answer to you; but such is not the case. i have remarked on nothing which i did not hear on the coast of south america. my few sentences, however, are merely an explosion of feeling. how could you relate so placidly that atrocious sentiment about separating children from their parents; and in the next page speak of being distressed at the whites not having prospered; i assure you the contrast made me exclaim out. but i have broken my intention, and so no more on this odious deadly subject." it is fair to add that the "atrocious sentiments" were not lyell's but those of a planter. [ ] according to the _japan weekly mail_, as quoted in _nature_, march , , the _beagle_ is in use as a training ship at yokosuka, in japan. part of the old ship is, i am glad to think, in my possession, in the form of a box (which i owe to the kindness of admiral mellersh) made out of her main cross-tree. chapter vii. london and cambridge. - . the period illustrated in the present chapter includes the years between darwin's return from the voyage of the _beagle_ and his settling at down. it is marked by the gradual appearance of that weakness of health which ultimately forced him to leave london and take up his abode for the rest of his life in a quiet country house. there is no evidence of any intention of entering a profession after his return from the voyage, and early in he wrote to fitz-roy: "i have nothing to wish for, excepting stronger health to go on with the subjects to which i have joyfully determined to devote my life." these two conditions--permanent ill-health and a passionate love of scientific work for its own sake--determined thus early in his career, the character of his whole future life. they impelled him to lead a retired life of constant labour, carried on to the utmost limits of his physical power, a life which signally falsified his melancholy prophecy:--"it has been a bitter mortification for me to digest the conclusion that the 'race is for the strong,' and that i shall probably do little more, but be content to admire the strides others make in science." the end of the last chapter saw my father safely arrived at shrewsbury on october , , "after an absence of five years and two days." he wrote to fox: "you cannot imagine how gloriously delightful my first visit was at home; it was worth the banishment." but it was a pleasure that he could not long enjoy, for in the last days of october he was at greenwich unpacking specimens from the _beagle_. as to the destination of the collections he writes, somewhat despondingly, to henslow:-- "i have not made much progress with the great men. i find, as you told me, that they are all overwhelmed with their own business. mr. lyell has entered, in the _most_ good-natured manner, and almost without being asked, into all my plans. he tells me, however, the same story, that i must do all myself. mr. owen seems anxious to dissect some of the animals in spirits, and, besides these two, i have scarcely met any one who seems to wish to possess any of my specimens. i must except dr. grant, who is willing to examine some of the corallines. i see it is quite unreasonable to hope for a minute that any man will undertake the examination of a whole order. it is clear the collectors so much outnumber the real naturalists that the latter have no time to spare. "i do not even find that the collections care for receiving the unnamed specimens. the zoological museum[ ] is nearly full, and upwards of a thousand specimens remain unmounted. i dare say the british museum would receive them, but i cannot feel, from all i hear, any great respect even for the present state of that establishment. your plan will be not only the best, but the only one, namely, to come down to cambridge, arrange and group together the different families, and then wait till people, who are already working in different branches, may want specimens.... "i have forgotten to mention mr. lonsdale,[ ] who gave me a most cordial reception, and with whom i had much most interesting conversation. if i was not much more inclined for geology than the other branches of natural history, i am sure mr. lyell's and lonsdale's kindness ought to fix me. you cannot conceive anything more thoroughly good-natured than the heart-and-soul manner in which he put himself in my place and thought what would be best to do." a few days later he writes more cheerfully: "i became acquainted with mr. bell,[ ] who, to my surprise, expressed a good deal of interest about my crustacea and reptiles, and seems willing to work at them. i also heard that mr. broderip would be glad to look over the south american shells, so that things flourish well with me." again, on november :-- "all my affairs, indeed, are most prosperous; i find there are plenty who will undertake the description of whole tribes of animals, of which i know nothing." as to his geological collection he was soon able to write: "i [have] disposed of the most important part [of] my collections, by giving all the fossil bones to the college of surgeons, casts of them will be distributed, and descriptions published. they are very curious and valuable; one head belonged to some gnawing animal, but of the size of a hippopotamus! another to an ant-eater of the size of a horse!" my father's specimens included (besides the above-mentioned toxodon and scelidotherium) the remains of mylodon, glossotherium, another gigantic animal allied to the ant-eater, and macrauchenia. his discovery of these remains is a matter of interest in itself, but it has a special importance as a point in his own life, his speculation on the extinction of these extraordinary creatures[ ] and on their relationship to living forms having formed one of the chief starting-points of his views on the origin of species. this is shown in the following extract from his pocket book for this year ( ): "in july opened first note-book on transmutation of species. had been greatly struck from about the month of previous march on character of south american fossils, and species on galapagos archipelago. these facts (especially latter), origin of all my views." his affairs being thus so far prosperously managed he was able to put into execution his plan of living at cambridge, where he settled on december th, . "cambridge," he writes, "yet continues a very pleasant, but not half so merry a place as before. to walk through the courts of christ's college, and not know an inhabitant of a single room, gave one a feeling half melancholy. the only evil i found in cambridge was its being too pleasant: there was some agreeable party or another every evening, and one cannot say one is engaged with so much impunity there as in this great city."[ ] early in the spring of he left cambridge for london, and a week later he was settled in lodgings at great marlborough street; and except for a "short visit to shrewsbury" in june, he worked on till september, being almost entirely employed on his _journal_, of which he wrote (march):-- "in your last letter you urge me to get ready _the_ book. i am now hard at work and give up everything else for it. our plan is as follows: capt. fitz-roy writes two volumes out of the materials collected during the last voyage under capt. king to tierra del fuego, and during our circumnavigation. i am to have the third volume, in which i intend giving a kind of journal of a naturalist, not following, however, always the order of time, but rather the order of position." a letter to fox (july) gives an account of the progress of his work:-- "i gave myself a holiday and a visit to shrewsbury [in june], as i had finished my journal. i shall now be very busy in filling up gaps and getting it quite ready for the press by the first of august. i shall always feel respect for every one who has written a book, let it be what it may, for i had no idea of the trouble which trying to write common english could cost one. and, alas, there yet remains the worst part of all, correcting the press. as soon as ever that is done i must put my shoulder to the wheel and commence at the geology. i have read some short papers to the geological society, and they were favourably received by the great guns, and this gives me much confidence, and i hope not a very great deal of vanity, though i confess i feel too often like a peacock admiring his tail. i never expected that my geology would ever have been worth the consideration of such men as lyell, who has been to me, since my return, a most active friend. my life is a very busy one at present, and i hope may ever remain so; though heaven knows there are many serious drawbacks to such a life, and chief amongst them is the little time it allows one for seeing one's natural friends. for the last three years, i have been longing and longing to be living at shrewsbury, and after all now in the course of several months, i see my good dear people at shrewsbury for a week. susan and catherine have, however, been staying with my brother here for some weeks, but they had returned home before my visit." in august he writes to henslow to announce the success of the scheme for the publication of the _zoology of the voyage of the beagle_, through the promise of a grant of £ from the treasury: "i had an interview with the chancellor of the exchequer.[ ] he appointed to see me this morning, and i had a long conversation with him, mr. peacock being present. nothing could be more thoroughly obliging and kind than his whole manner. he made no sort of restriction, but only told me to make the most of the money, which of course i am right willing to do. "i expected rather an awful interview, but i never found anything less so in my life. it will be my fault if i do not make a good work; but i sometimes take an awful fright that i have not materials enough. it will be excessively satisfactory at the end of some two years to find all materials made the most they were capable of." later in the autumn he wrote to henslow: "i have not been very well of late, with an uncomfortable palpitation of the heart, and my doctors urge me _strongly_ to knock off all work, and go and live in the country for a few weeks." he accordingly took a holiday of about a month at shrewsbury and maer, and paid fox a visit in the isle of wight. it was, i believe, during this visit, at mr. wedgwood's house at maer, that he made his first observations on the work done by earthworms, and late in the autumn he read a paper on the subject at the geological society. here he was already beginning to make his mark. lyell wrote to sedgwick (april , ):-- "darwin is a glorious addition to any society of geologists, and is working hard and making way both in his book and in our discussions. i really never saw that bore dr. mitchell so successfully silenced, or such a bucket of cold water so dexterously poured down his back, as when darwin answered some impertinent and irrelevant questions about south america. we escaped fifteen minutes of dr. m.'s vulgar harangue in consequence...." early in the following year ( ), he was, much against his will, elected secretary of the geological society, an office he held for three years. a chief motive for his hesitation in accepting the post was the condition of his health, the doctors having urged "me to give up entirely all writing and even correcting press for some weeks. of late anything which flurries me completely knocks me up afterwards, and brings on a violent palpitation of the heart." in the summer of he started on his expedition to glen roy, where he spent "eight good days" over the parallel roads. his essay on this subject was written out during the same summer, and published by the royal society.[ ] he wrote in his pocket book: "september ( ). finished the paper on 'glen roy,' one of the most difficult and instructive tasks i was ever engaged on." it will be remembered that in his _autobiography_ he speaks of this paper as a failure, of which he was ashamed.[ ] _c. d. to lyell._ [august th, .] great marlborough street. my dear lyell--i did not write to you at norwich, for i thought i should have more to say, if i waited a few more days. very many thanks for the present of your _elements_, which i received (and i believe the _very first_ copy distributed) together with your note. i have read it through every word, and am full of admiration of it, and, as i now see no geologist, i must talk to you about it. there is no pleasure in reading a book if one cannot have a good talk over it; i repeat, i am full of admiration of it, it is as clear as daylight, in fact i felt in many parts some mortification at thinking how geologists have laboured and struggled at proving what seems, as you have put it, so evidently probable. i read with much interest your sketch of the secondary deposits; you have contrived to make it quite "juicy," as we used to say as children of a good story. there was also much new to me, and i have to copy out some fifty notes and references. it must do good, the heretics against common-sense must yield.... by the way, do you recollect my telling you how much i disliked the manner x. referred to his other works, as much as to say, "you must, ought, and shall buy everything i have written." to my mind, you have somehow quite avoided this; your references only seem to say, "i can't tell you all in this work, else i would, so you must go to the _principles_; and many a one, i trust, you will send there, and make them, like me, adorers of the good science of rock-breaking."[ ] you will see i am in a fit of enthusiasm, and good cause i have to be, when i find you have made such infinitely more use of my journal than i could have anticipated. i will say no more about the book, for it is all praise. i must, however, admire the elaborate honesty with which you quote the words of all living and dead geologists. my scotch expedition answered brilliantly; my trip in the steam-packet was absolutely pleasant, and i enjoyed the spectacle, wretch that i am, of two ladies, and some small children quite sea-sick, i being well. moreover, on my return from glasgow to liverpool, i triumphed in a similar manner over some full-grown men. i stayed one whole day in edinburgh, or more truly on salisbury craigs; i want to hear some day what you think about that classical ground,--the structure was to me new and rather curious,--that is, if i understand it right. i crossed from edinburgh in gigs and carts (and carts without springs, as i never shall forget) to loch leven. i was disappointed in the scenery, and reached glen roy on saturday evening, one week after leaving marlborough street. here i enjoyed five [?] days of the most beautiful weather with gorgeous sunsets, and all nature looking as happy as i felt. i wandered over the mountains in all directions, and examined that most extraordinary district. i think, without any exceptions, not even the first volcanic island, the first elevated beach, or the passage of the cordillera, was so interesting to me as this week. it is far the most remarkable area i ever examined. i have fully convinced myself (after some doubting at first) that the shelves are sea-beaches, although i could not find a trace of a shell; and i think i can explain away most, if not all, the difficulties. i found a piece of a road in another valley, not hitherto observed, which is important; and i have some curious facts about erratic blocks, one of which was perched up on a peak feet above the sea. i am now employed in writing a paper on the subject, which i find very amusing work, excepting that i cannot anyhow condense it into reasonable limits. at some future day i hope to talk over some of the conclusions with you, which the examination of glen roy has led me to. now i have had my talk out, i am much easier, for i can assure you glen roy has astonished me. i am living very quietly, and therefore pleasantly, and am crawling on slowly but steadily with my work. i have come to one conclusion, which you will think proves me to be a very sensible man, namely, that whatever you say proves right; and as a proof of this, i am coming into your way of only working about two hours at a spell; i then go out and do my business in the streets, return and set to work again, and thus make two separate days out of one. the new plan answers capitally; after the second half day is finished i go and dine at the athenæum like a gentleman, or rather like a lord, for i am sure the first evening i sat in that great drawing-room, all on a sofa by myself, i felt just like a duke. i am full of admiration at the athenæum, one meets so many people there that one likes to see.... i have heard from more than one quarter that quarrelling is expected at newcastle[ ]; i am sorry to hear it. i met old ---- this evening at the athenæum, and he muttered something about writing to you or some one on the subject; i am however all in the dark. i suppose, however, i shall be illuminated, for i am going to dine with him in a few days, as my inventive powers failed in making any excuse. a friend of mine dined with him the other day, a party of four, and they finished ten bottles of wine--a pleasant prospect for me; but i am determined not even to taste his wine, partly for the fun of seeing his infinite disgust and surprise.... i pity you the infliction of this most unmerciful letter. pray remember me most kindly to mrs. lyell when you arrive at kinnordy. tell mrs. lyell to read the second series of 'mr. slick of slickville's sayings.'... he almost beats 'samivel,' that prince of heroes. good night, my dear lyell; you will think i have been drinking some strong drink to write so much nonsense, but i did not even taste minerva's small beer to-day.... a record of what he wrote during the year would not give a true index of the most important work that was in progress--the laying of the foundation-stones of what was to be the achievement of his life. this is shown in the following passages from a letter to lyell (september), and from a letter to fox, written in june:-- "i wish with all my heart that my geological book was out. i have every motive to work hard, and will, following your steps, work just that degree of hardness to keep well. i should like my volume to be out before your new edition of the _principles_ appears. besides the coral theory, the volcanic chapters will, i think, contain some new facts. i have lately been sadly tempted to be idle--that is, as far as pure geology is concerned--by the delightful number of new views which have been coming in thickly and steadily--on the classification and affinities and instincts of animals--bearing on the question of species. note-book after note-book has been filled with facts which begin to group themselves _clearly_ under sub-laws." "i am delighted to hear you are such a good man as not to have forgotten my questions about the crossing of animals. it is my prime hobby, and i really think some day i shall be able to do something in that most intricate subject, species and varieties." in the winter of (jan. ) my father was married to his cousin, emma wedgwood.[ ] the house in which they lived for the first few years of their married life, no. upper gower street, was a small common-place london house, with a drawing-room in front, and a small room behind, in which they lived for the sake of quietness. in later years my father used to laugh over the surpassing ugliness of the furniture, carpets, &c., of the gower street house. the only redeeming feature was a better garden than most london houses have, a strip as wide as the house, and thirty yards long. even this small space of dingy grass made their london house more tolerable to its two country-bred inhabitants. of his life in london he writes to fox (october ): "we are living a life of extreme quietness; delamere itself, which you describe as so secluded a spot, is, i will answer for it, quite dissipated compared with gower street. we have given up all parties, for they agree with neither of us; and if one is quiet in london, there is nothing like its quietness--there is a grandeur about its smoky fogs, and the dull distant sounds of cabs and coaches; in fact you may perceive i am becoming a thorough-paced cockney, and i glory in the thought that i shall be here for the next six months." the entries of ill health in the diary increase in number during these years, and as a consequence the holidays become longer and more frequent. the entry under august is: "read a little, was much unwell and scandalously idle. i have derived this much good, that _nothing_ is so intolerable as idleness." at the end of his first child was born, and it was then that he began his observations ultimately published in the _expression of the emotions_. his book on this subject, and the short paper published in _mind_,[ ] show how closely he observed his child. he seems to have been surprised at his own feeling for a young baby, for he wrote to fox (july ): "he [_i.e._ the baby] is so charming that i cannot pretend to any modesty. i defy anybody to flatter us on our baby, for i defy anyone to say anything in its praise of which we are not fully conscious.... i had not the smallest conception there was so much in a five-month baby. you will perceive by this that i have a fine degree of paternal fervour." in some improvement in his health became apparent; he wrote in september:-- "i have steadily been gaining ground, and really believe now i shall some day be quite strong. i write daily for a couple of hours on my coral volume, and take a little walk or ride every day. i grow very tired in the evenings, and am not able to go out at that time, or hardly to receive my nearest relations; but my life ceases to be burdensome now that i can do something." the manuscript of _coral reefs_ was at last sent to the printers in january , and the last proof corrected in may. he thus writes of the work in his diary:-- "i commenced this work three years and seven months ago. out of this period about twenty months (besides work during _beagle's_ voyage) has been spent on it, and besides it, i have only compiled the bird part of zoology; appendix to journal, paper on boulders, and corrected papers on glen roy and earthquakes, reading on species, and rest all lost by illness." the latter part of this year belongs to the period including the settlement at down, and is therefore dealt with in another chapter. footnotes: [ ] the museum of the zoological society, then at bruton street. the collection was some years later broken up and dispersed. [ ] william lonsdale, b. , d. , was originally in the army, and served at the battles of salamanca and waterloo. after the war he left the service and gave himself up to science. he acted as assistant-secretary to the geological society from - , when he resigned, owing to ill-health. [ ] t. bell, f.r.s., formerly professor of zoology in king's college, london, and sometime secretary to the royal society. he afterwards described the reptiles for the _zoology of the voyage of the beagle_. [ ] i have often heard him speak of the despair with which he had to break off the projecting extremity of a huge, partly excavated bone, when the boat waiting for him would wait no longer. [ ] a trifling record of my father's presence in cambridge occurs in the book kept in christ's college combination-room, in which fines and bets are recorded, the earlier entries giving a curious impression of the after-dinner frame of mind of the fellows. the bets are not allowed to be made in money, but are, like the fines, paid in wine. the bet which my father made and lost is thus recorded:-- "_feb. , ._--mr. darwin _v._ mr. baines, that the combination-room measures from the ceiling to the floor more than _x_ feet. " bottle paid same day." the bets are usually recorded in such a way as not to preclude future speculation on a subject which has proved itself capable of supplying a discussion (and a bottle) to the room, hence the _x_ in the above quotation. [ ] spring rice. [ ] _phil. trans._, , pp. - . [ ] sir archibald geikie has been so good as to allow me to quote a passage from a letter addressed to me (nov. , ):--"had the idea of transient barriers of glacier-ice occurred to him, he would have found the difficulties vanish from the lake-theory which he opposed, and he would not have been unconsciously led to minimise the altogether overwhelming objections to the supposition that the terraces are of marine origin." it may be added that the idea of the barriers being formed by glaciers could hardly have occurred to him, considering the state of knowledge at the time, and bearing in mind his want of opportunities of observing glacial action on a large scale. [ ] in a letter of sept. he wrote:--"it will be a curious point to geologists hereafter to note how long a man's name will support a theory so completely exposed as that of de beaumont has been by you; you say you 'begin to hope that the great principles there insisted on will stand the test of time.' _begin to hope_: why, the _possibility_ of a doubt has never crossed my mind for many a day. this may be very unphilosophical, but my geological salvation is staked on it." [ ] at the meeting of the british association. [ ] daughter of josiah wedgwood of maer, and grand-daughter of the founder of the etruria pottery works. [ ] july . chapter viii. life at down. - . "my life goes on like clockwork, and i am fixed on the spot where i shall end it." letter to captain fitz-roy, october, . certain letters which, chronologically considered, belong to the period - have been utilised in a later chapter where the growth of the _origin of species_ is described. in the present chapter we only get occasional hints of the growth of my father's views, and we may suppose ourselves to be seeing his life, as it might have appeared to those who had no knowledge of the quiet development of his theory of evolution during this period. on sept. , , my father left london with his family and settled at down.[ ] in the autobiographical chapter, his motives for moving into the country are briefly given. he speaks of the attendance at scientific societies and ordinary social duties as suiting his health so "badly that we resolved to live in the country, which we both preferred and have never repented of." his intention of keeping up with scientific life in london is expressed in a letter to fox (dec., ):-- "i hope by going up to town for a night every fortnight or three weeks, to keep up my communication with scientific men and my own zeal, and so not to turn into a complete kentish hog." visits to london of this kind were kept up for some years at the cost of much exertion on his part. i have often heard him speak of the wearisome drives of ten miles to or from croydon or sydenham--the nearest stations--with an old gardener acting as coachman, who drove with great caution and slowness up and down the many hills. in later years, regular scientific intercourse with london became, as before mentioned, an impossibility. the choice of down was rather the result of despair than of actual preference: my father and mother were weary of house-hunting, and the attractive points about the place thus seemed to them to counterbalance its somewhat more obvious faults. it had at least one desideratum, namely, quietness. indeed it would have been difficult to find a more retired place so near to london. in a coach drive of some twenty miles was the usual means of access to down; and even now that railways have crept closer to it, it is singularly out of the world, with nothing to suggest the neighbourhood of london, unless it be the dull haze of smoke that sometimes clouds the sky. the village stands in an angle between two of the larger high-roads of the country, one leading to tunbridge and the other to westerham and edenbridge. it is cut off from the weald by a line of steep chalk hills on the south, and an abrupt hill, now smoothed down by a cutting and embankment, must formerly have been something of a barrier against encroachments from the side of london. in such a situation, a village, communicating with the main lines of traffic, only by stony tortuous lanes, may well have preserved its retired character. nor is it hard to believe in the smugglers and their strings of pack-horses making their way up from the lawless old villages of the weald, of which the memory still existed when my father settled in down. the village stands on solitary upland country, to feet above the sea--a country with little natural beauty, but possessing a certain charm in the shaws, or straggling strips of wood, capping the chalky banks and looking down upon the quiet ploughed lands of the valleys. the village, of three or four hundred inhabitants, consists of three small streets of cottages meeting in front of the little flint-built church. it is a place where new-comers are seldom seen, and the names occurring far back in the old church registers are still known in the village. the smock-frock is not yet quite extinct, though chiefly used as a ceremonial dress by the "bearers" at funerals; but as a boy i remember the purple or green smocks of the men at church. the house stands a quarter of a mile from the village, and is built, like so many houses of the last century, as near as possible to the road--a narrow lane winding away to the westerham high-road. in , it was dull and unattractive enough: a square brick building of three storeys, covered with shabby whitewash, and hanging tiles. the garden had none of the shrubberies or walls that now give shelter; it was overlooked from the lane, and was open, bleak, and desolate. one of my father's first undertakings was to lower the lane by about two feet, and to build a flint wall along that part of it which bordered the garden. the earth thus excavated was used in making banks and mounds round the lawn: these were planted with evergreens, which now give to the garden its retired and sheltered character. the house was made to look neater by being covered with stucco, but the chief improvement effected was the building of a large bow extending up through three storeys. this bow became covered with a tangle of creepers, and pleasantly varied the south side of the house. the drawing-room, with its verandah opening into the garden, as well as the study in which my father worked during the later years of his life, were added at subsequent dates. eighteen acres of land were sold with the house, of which twelve acres on the south side of the house form a pleasant field, scattered with fair-sized oaks and ashes. from this field a strip was cut off and converted into a kitchen garden, in which the experimental plot of ground was situated, and where the greenhouses were ultimately put up. during the whole of he was occupied with geological work, the result of which was published in the spring of the following year. it was entitled _geological observations on the volcanic islands, visited during the voyage of h.m.s. beagle, together with some brief notices on the geology of australia and the cape of good hope_; it formed the second part of the _geology of the voyage of the beagle_, published "with the approval of the lords commissioners of her majesty's treasury." the volume on _coral reefs_ forms part i. of the series, and was published, as we have seen, in . for the sake of the non-geological reader, i may here quote sir a. geikie's words[ ] on these two volumes--which were up to this time my father's chief geological works. speaking of the _coral reefs_, he says (p. ): "this well-known treatise, the most original of all its author's geological memoirs, has become one of the classics of geological literature. the origin of those remarkable rings of coral-rock in mid-ocean has given rise to much speculation, but no satisfactory solution of the problem had been proposed. after visiting many of them, and examining also coral reefs that fringe islands and continents, he offered a theory which for simplicity and grandeur, strikes every reader with astonishment. it is pleasant, after the lapse of many years, to recall the delight with which one first read the _coral reefs_, how one watched the facts being marshalled into their places, nothing being ignored or passed lightly over; and how, step by step, one was led to the grand conclusion of wide oceanic subsidence. no more admirable example of scientific method was ever given to the world, and even if he had written nothing else, the treatise alone would have placed darwin in the very front of investigators of nature." it is interesting to see in the following extract from one of lyell's letters[ ] how warmly and readily he embraced the theory. the extract also gives incidentally some idea of the theory itself. "i am very full of darwin's new theory of coral islands, and have urged whewell to make him read it at our next meeting. i must give up my volcanic crater theory for ever, though it cost me a pang at first, for it accounted for so much, the annular form, the central lagoon, the sudden rising of an isolated mountain in a deep sea; all went so well with the notion of submerged, crateriform, and conical volcanoes, ... and then the fact that in the south pacific we had scarcely any rocks in the regions of coral islands, save two kinds, coral limestone and volcanic! yet in spite of all this, the whole theory is knocked on the head, and the annular shape and central lagoon have nothing to do with volcanoes, nor even with a crateriform bottom. perhaps darwin told you when at the cape what he considers the true cause? let any mountain be submerged gradually, and coral grow in the sea in which it is sinking, and there will be a ring of coral, and finally only a lagoon in the centre.... coral islands are the last efforts of drowning continents to lift their heads above water. regions of elevation and subsidence in the ocean may be traced by the state of the coral reefs." the second part of the _geology of the voyage of the beagle_, _i.e._ the volume on volcanic islands, which specially concerns us now, cannot be better described than by again quoting from sir a. geikie (p. ):-- "full of detailed observations, this work still remains the best authority on the general geological structure of most of the regions it describes. at the time it was written the 'crater of elevation theory,' though opposed by constant prévost, scrope, and lyell, was generally accepted, at least on the continent. darwin, however, could not receive it as a valid explanation of the facts; and though he did not share the view of its chief opponents, but ventured to propose a hypothesis of his own, the observations impartially made and described by him in this volume must be regarded as having contributed towards the final solution of the difficulty." geikie continues (p. ): "he is one of the earliest writers to recognize the magnitude of the denudation to which even recent geological accumulations have been subjected. one of the most impressive lessons to be learnt from his account of 'volcanic islands' is the prodigious extent to which they have been denuded.... he was disposed to attribute more of this work to the sea than most geologists would now admit; but he lived himself to modify his original views, and on this subject his latest utterances are quite abreast of the time." an extract from a letter of my father's to lyell shows his estimate of his own work. "you have pleased me much by saying that you intend looking through my _volcanic islands_: it cost me eighteen months!!! and i have heard of very few who have read it.[ ] now i shall feel, whatever little (and little it is) there is confirmatory of old work, or new, will work its effect and not be lost." the second edition of the _journal of researches_[ ] was completed in . it was published by mr. murray in the _colonial and home library_, and in this more accessible form soon had a large sale. _c. d. to lyell._ down [july, ]. my dear lyell--i send you the first part[ ] of the new edition, which i so entirely owe to you. you will see that i have ventured to dedicate it to you, and i trust that this cannot be disagreeable. i have long wished, not so much for your sake, as for my own feelings of honesty, to acknowledge more plainly than by mere reference, how much i geologically owe you. those authors, however, who, like you, educate people's minds as well as teach them special facts, can never, i should think, have full justice done them except by posterity, for the mind thus insensibly improved can hardly perceive its own upward ascent. i had intended putting in the present acknowledgment in the third part of my geology, but its sale is so exceedingly small that i should not have had the satisfaction of thinking that as far as lay in my power i had owned, though imperfectly, my debt. pray do not think that i am so silly, as to suppose that my dedication can any ways gratify you, except so far as i trust you will receive it, as a most sincere mark of my gratitude and friendship. i think i have improved this edition, especially the second part, which i have just finished. i have added a good deal about the fuegians, and cut down into half the mercilessly long discussion on climate and glaciers, &c. i do not recollect anything added to the first part, long enough to call your attention to; there is a page of description of a very curious breed of oxen in banda oriental. i should like you to read the few last pages; there is a little discussion on extinction, which will not perhaps strike you as new, though it has so struck me, and has placed in my mind all the difficulties with respect to the causes of extinction, in the same class with other difficulties which are generally quite overlooked and undervalued by naturalists; i ought, however, to have made my discussion longer and shown by facts, as i easily could, how steadily every species must be checked in its numbers. a pleasant notice of the _journal_ occurs in a letter from humboldt to mrs. austin, dated june , [ ]:-- "alas! you have got some one in england whom you do not read--young darwin, who went with the expedition to the straits of magellan. he has succeeded far better than myself with the subject i took up. there are admirable descriptions of tropical nature in his journal, which you do not read because the author is a zoologist, which you imagine to be synonymous with bore. mr. darwin has another merit, a very rare one in your country--he has praised me." _october to october ._ the time between october , and october , was practically given up to working at the cirripedia (barnacles); the results were published in two volumes by the ray society in and . his volumes on the fossil cirripedes were published by the palæontographical society in and . writing to sir j. d. hooker in , my father says: "i hope this next summer to finish my south american geology,[ ] then to get out a little zoology, and hurrah for my species work...." this passage serves to show that he had at this time no intention of making an exhaustive study of the cirripedes. indeed it would seem that his original intention was, as i learn from sir j. d. hooker, merely to work out one special problem. this is quite in keeping with the following passage in the _autobiography_: "when on the coast of chile, i found a most curious form, which burrowed into the shells of concholepas, and which differed so much from all other cirripedes that i had to form a new sub-order for its sole reception.... to understand the structure of my new cirripede i had to examine and dissect many of the common forms; and this gradually led me on to take up the whole group." in later years he seems to have felt some doubt as to the value of these eight years of work--for instance when he wrote in his _autobiography_--"my work was of considerable use to me, when i had to discuss in the _origin of species_ the principles of a natural classification. nevertheless i doubt whether the work was worth the consumption of so much time." yet i learn from sir j. d. hooker that he certainly recognised at the time its value to himself as systematic training. sir joseph writes to me: "your father recognised three stages in his career as a biologist: the mere collector at cambridge; the collector and observer in the _beagle_, and for some years afterwards; and the trained naturalist after, and only after the cirripede work. that he was a thinker all along is true enough, and there is a vast deal in his writings previous to the cirripedes that a trained naturalist could but emulate.... he often alluded to it as a valued discipline, and added that even the 'hateful' work of digging out synonyms, and of describing, not only improved his methods but opened his eyes to the difficulties and merits of the works of the dullest of cataloguers. one result was that he would never allow a depreciatory remark to pass unchallenged on the poorest class of scientific workers, provided that their work was honest, and good of its kind. i have always regarded it as one of the finest traits of his character,--this generous appreciation of the hod-men of science, and of their labours ... and it was monographing the barnacles that brought it about." mr. huxley allows me to quote his opinion as to the value of the eight years given to the cirripedes:-- "in my opinion your sagacious father never did a wiser thing than when he devoted himself to the years of patient toil which the cirripede-book cost him. "like the rest of us, he had no proper training in biological science, and it has always struck me as a remarkable instance of his scientific insight, that he saw the necessity of giving himself such training, and of his courage, that he did not shirk the labour of obtaining it. "the great danger which besets all men of large speculative faculty, is the temptation to deal with the accepted statements of fact in natural science, as if they were not only correct, but exhaustive; as if they might be dealt with deductively, in the same way as propositions in euclid may be dealt with. in reality, every such statement, however true it may be, is true only relatively to the means of observation and the point of view of those who have enunciated it. so far it may be depended upon. but whether it will bear every speculative conclusion that may be logically deduced from it, is quite another question. "your father was building a vast superstructure upon the foundations furnished by the recognised facts of geological and biological science. in physical geography, in geology proper, in geographical distribution, and in palæontology, he had acquired an extensive practical training during the voyage of the _beagle_. he knew of his own knowledge the way in which the raw materials of these branches of science are acquired, and was therefore a most competent judge of the speculative strain they would bear. that which he needed, after his return to england, was a corresponding acquaintance with anatomy and development, and their relation to taxonomy--and he acquired this by his cirripede work." though he became excessively weary of the work before the end of the eight years, he had much keen enjoyment in the course of it. thus he wrote to sir j. d. hooker ( ?):--"as you say, there is an extraordinary pleasure in pure observation; not but what i suspect the pleasure in this case is rather derived from comparisons forming in one's mind with allied structures. after having been so long employed in writing my old geological observations, it is delightful to use one's eyes and fingers again." it was, in fact, a return to the work which occupied so much of his time when at sea during his voyage. most of his work was done with the simple dissecting microscope--and it was the need which he found for higher powers that induced him, in , to buy a compound microscope. he wrote to hooker:--"when i was drawing with l., i was so delighted with the appearance of the objects, especially with their perspective, as seen through the weak powers of a good compound microscope, that i am going to order one; indeed, i often have structures in which the / is not power enough." during part of the time covered by the present chapter, my father suffered perhaps more from ill-health than at any other period of his life. he felt severely the depressing influence of these long years of illness; thus as early as he wrote to fox: "i am grown a dull, old, spiritless dog to what i used to be. one gets stupider as one grows older i think." it is not wonderful that he should so have written, it is rather to be wondered at that his spirit withstood so great and constant a strain. he wrote to sir joseph hooker in : "you are very kind in your inquiries about my health; i have nothing to say about it, being always much the same, some days better and some worse. i believe i have not had one whole day, or rather night, without my stomach having been greatly disordered, during the last three years, and most days great prostration of strength: thank you for your kindness; many of my friends, i believe, think me a hypochondriac." during the whole of the period now under consideration, he was in constant correspondence with sir joseph hooker. the following characteristic letter on sigillaria (a gigantic fossil plant found in the coal measures) was afterwards characterised by himself as not being "reasoning, or even speculation, but simply as mental rioting." [down, ?] " ... i am delighted to hear that brongniart thought sigillaria aquatic, and that binney considers coal a sort of submarine peat. i would bet to that in twenty years this will be generally admitted;[ ] and i do not care for whatever the botanical difficulties or impossibilities may be. if i could but persuade myself that sigillaria and co. had a good range of depth, _i.e._ could live from to fathoms under water, all difficulties of nearly all kinds would be removed (for the simple fact of muddy ordinary shallow sea implies proximity of land). [n.b.--i am chuckling to think how you are sneering all this time.] it is not much of a difficulty, there not being shells with the coal, considering how unfavourable deep mud is for most mollusca, and that shells would probably decay from the humic acid, as seems to take place in peat and in the _black_ moulds (as lyell tells me) of the mississippi. so coal question settled--q. e. d. sneer away!" the two following extracts give the continuation and conclusion of the coal battle. "by the way, as submarine coal made you so wrath, i thought i would experimentise on falconer and bunbury[ ] together, and it made [them] even more savage; 'such infernal nonsense ought to be thrashed out of me.' bunbury was more polite and contemptuous. so i now know how to stir up and show off any botanist. i wonder whether zoologists and geologists have got their tender points; i wish i could find out." "i cannot resist thanking you for your most kind note. pray do not think that i was annoyed by your letter: i perceived that you had been thinking with animation, and accordingly expressed yourself strongly, and so i understood it. forfend me from a man who weighs every expression with scotch prudence. i heartily wish you all success in your noble problem, and i shall be very curious to have some talk with you and hear your ultimatum." he also corresponded with the late hugh strickland,--a well-known ornithologist, on the need of reform in the principle of nomenclature. the following extract ( ) gives an idea of my father's view:-- "i feel sure as long as species-mongers have their vanity tickled by seeing their own names appended to a species, because they miserably described it in two or three lines, we shall have the same _vast_ amount of bad work as at present, and which is enough to dishearten any man who is willing to work out any branch with care and time. i find every genus of cirripedia has half-a-dozen names, and not one careful description of any one species in any one genus. i do not believe that this would have been the case if each man knew that the memory of his own name depended on his doing his work well, and not upon merely appending a name with a few wretched lines indicating only a few prominent external characters." in dr. r. w. darwin died, and charles darwin wrote to hooker, from malvern:-- "on the th of november, my poor dear father died, and no one who did not know him would believe that a man above eighty-three years old could have retained so tender and affectionate a disposition, with all his sagacity unclouded to the last. i was at the time so unwell, that i was unable to travel, which added to my misery. "all this winter i have been bad enough ... and my nervous system began to be affected, so that my hands trembled, and head was often swimming. i was not able to do anything one day out of three, and was altogether too dispirited to write to you, or to do anything but what i was compelled. i thought i was rapidly going the way of all flesh. having heard, accidentally, of two persons who had received much benefit from the water-cure, i got dr. gully's book, and made further inquiries, and at last started here, with wife, children, and all our servants. we have taken a house for two months, and have been here a fortnight. i am already a little stronger.... dr. gully feels pretty sure he can do me good, which most certainly the regular doctors could not.... i feel certain that the water-cure is no quackery. "how i shall enjoy getting back to down with renovated health, if such is to be my good fortune, and resuming the beloved barnacles. now i hope that you will forgive me for my negligence in not having sooner answered your letter. i was uncommonly interested by the sketch you give of your intended grand expedition, from which i suppose you will soon be returning. how earnestly i hope that it may prove in every way successful...." _c. d. to w. d. fox_. [march , .] our long silence occurred to me a few weeks since, and i had then thought of writing, but was idle. i congratulate and condole with you on your _tenth_ child; but please to observe when i have a tenth, send only condolences to me. we have now seven children, all well, thank god, as well as their mother; of these seven, five are boys; and my father used to say that it was certain that a boy gave as much trouble as three girls; so that _bonâ fide_ we have seventeen children. it makes me sick whenever i think of professions; all seem hopelessly bad, and as yet i cannot see a ray of light. i should very much like to talk over this (by the way, my three bugbears are californian and australian gold, beggaring me by making my money on mortgage worth nothing; the french coming by the westerham and sevenoaks roads, and therefore enclosing down; and thirdly, professions for my boys), and i should like to talk about education, on which you ask me what we are doing. no one can more truly despise the old stereotyped stupid classical education than i do; but yet i have not had courage to break through the trammels. after many doubts we have just sent our eldest boy to rugby, where for his age he has been very well placed.... i honour, admire, and envy you for educating your boys at home. what on earth shall you do with your boys? very many thanks for your most kind and large invitation to delamere, but i fear we can hardly compass it. i dread going anywhere, on account of my stomach so easily failing under any excitement. i rarely even now go to london, not that i am at all worse, perhaps rather better, and lead a very comfortable life with my three hours of daily work, but it is the life of a hermit. my nights are _always_ bad, and that stops my becoming vigorous. you ask about water-cure. i take at intervals of two or three months, five or six weeks of _moderately_ severe treatment, and always with good effect. do you come here, i pray and beg whenever you can find time; you cannot tell how much pleasure it would give me and e. what pleasant times we had in drinking coffee in your rooms at christ's college, and think of the glories of crux-major.[ ] ah, in those days there were no professions for sons, no ill-health to fear for them, no californian gold, no french invasions. how paramount the future is to the present when one is surrounded by children. my dread is hereditary ill-health. even death is better for them. my dear fox, your sincere friend. p.s.--susan[ ] has lately been working in a way which i think truly heroic about the scandalous violation of the act against children climbing chimneys. we have set up a little society in shrewsbury to prosecute those who break the law. it is all susan's doing. she has had very nice letters from lord shaftesbury and the duke of sutherland, but the brutal shropshire squires are as hard as stones to move. the act out of london seems most commonly violated. it makes one shudder to fancy one of one's own children at seven years old being forced up a chimney--to say nothing of the consequent loathsome disease and ulcerated limbs, and utter moral degradation. if you think strongly on this subject, do make some enquiries; add to your many good works, this other one, and try to stir up the magistrates.... the following letter refers to the royal medal, which was awarded to him in november, : _c. d. to j. d. hooker_. down [november ]. my dear hooker--amongst my letters received this morning, i opened first one from colonel sabine; the contents certainly surprised me very much, but, though the letter was a _very kind one_, somehow, i cared very little indeed for the announcement it contained. i then opened yours, and such is the effect of warmth, friendship, and kindness from one that is loved, that the very same fact, told as you told it, made me glow with pleasure till my very heart throbbed. believe me, i shall not soon forget the pleasure of your letter. such hearty, affectionate sympathy is worth more than all the medals that ever were or will be coined. again, my dear hooker, i thank you. i hope lindley[ ] will never hear that he was a competitor against me; for really it is almost _ridiculous_ (of course you would never repeat that i said this, for it would be thought by others, though not, i believe by you, to be affectation) his not having the medal long before me; i must feel _sure_ that you did quite right to propose him; and what a good, dear, kind fellow you are, nevertheless, to rejoice in this honour being bestowed on me. what _pleasure_ i have felt on the occasion, i owe almost entirely to you.[ ] farewell, my dear hooker, yours affectionately. the following series of extracts, must, for want of space, serve as a sketch of his feeling with regard to his seven years' work at barnacles[ ]:-- _september ._--"it makes me groan to think that probably i shall never again have the exquisite pleasure of making out some new district, of evolving geological light out of some troubled dark region. so i must make the best of my cirripedia...." _october ._--"i have of late been at work at mere species describing, which is much more difficult than i expected, and has much the same sort of interest as a puzzle has; but i confess i often feel wearied with the work, and cannot help sometimes asking myself what is the good of spending a week or fortnight in ascertaining that certain just perceptible differences blend together and constitute varieties and not species. as long as i am on anatomy i never feel myself in that disgusting, horrid, _cui bono_, inquiring, humour. what miserable work, again, it is searching for priority of names. i have just finished two species, which possess seven generic, and twenty-four specific names! my chief comfort is, that the work must be sometime done, and i may as well do it, as any one else." _october ._--"i am at work at the second volume of the cirripedia, of which creatures i am wonderfully tired. i hate a barnacle as no man ever did before, not even a sailor in a slow-sailing ship. my first volume is out; the only part worth looking at is on the sexes of ibla and scalpellum. i hope by next summer to have done with my tedious work." _july ._--"i am _extremely_ glad to hear that you approved of my cirripedial volume. i have spent an almost ridiculous amount of labour on the subject, and certainly would never have undertaken it had i foreseen what a job it was." in september, , his cirripede work was practically finished, and he wrote to sir j. hooker: "i have been frittering away my time for the last several weeks in a wearisome manner, partly idleness, and odds and ends, find sending ten thousand barnacles[ ] out of the house all over the world. but i shall now in a day or two begin to look over my old notes on species. what a deal i shall have to discuss with you; i shall have to look sharp that i do not 'progress' into one of the greatest bores in life, to the few like you with lots of knowledge." footnotes: [ ] i must not omit to mention a member of the household who accompanied him. this was his butler, joseph parslow, who remained in the family, a valued friend and servant, for forty years, and became, as sir joseph hooker once remarked to me, "an integral part of the family, and felt to be such by all visitors at the house." [ ] charles darwin, _nature_ series, . [ ] to sir john herschel, may , . _life of sir charles lyell_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] he wrote to herbert:--"i have long discovered that geologists never read each other's works, and that the only object in writing a book is a proof of earnestness, and that you do not form your opinions without undergoing labour of some kind. geology is at present very oral, and what i here say is to a great extent quite true." and to fitz-roy, on the same subject, he wrote: "i have sent my _south american geology_ to dover street, and you will get it, no doubt, in the course of time. you do not know what you threaten when you propose to read it--it is purely geological. i said to my brother, 'you will of course read it,' and his answer was, 'upon my life, i would sooner even buy it.'" [ ] the first edition was published in , as vol. iii. of the _voyages of the 'adventure' and 'beagle.'_ [ ] no doubt proof-sheets. [ ] _three generations of englishwomen_, by janet ross ( ), vol. i. p. . [ ] this refers to the third and last of his geological books, _geological observation on south america_, which was published in . a sentence from a letter of dec. , , may be quoted here--"david forbes has been carefully working the geology of chile, and as i value praise for accurate observation far higher than for any other quality, forgive (if you can) the _insufferable_ vanity of my copying the last sentence in his note: 'i regard your monograph on chile as, without exception, one of the finest specimens of geological inquiry.' i feel inclined to strut like a turkey-cock!" [ ] an unfulfilled prophecy. [ ] the late sir c. bunbury, well known as a palæobotanist. [ ] the beetle panagæus crux-major. [ ] his sister. [ ] john lindley (b. , d. ) was the son of a nurseryman near norwich, through whose failure in business he was thrown at the age of twenty on his own resources. he was befriended by sir w. hooker, and employed as assistant librarian by sir j. banks. he seems to have had enormous capacity for work, and is said to have translated richard's _analyse du fruit_ at one sitting of two days and three nights. he became assistant-secretary to the horticultural society, and in was appointed professor of botany at university college, a post which he held for upwards of thirty years. his writings are numerous; the best known being perhaps his _vegetable kingdom_, published in . [ ] shortly afterwards he received a fresh mark of esteem from his warm-hearted friend: "hooker's book (_himalayan journal_) is out, and _most beautifully_ got up. he has honoured me beyond measure by dedicating it to me!" [ ] in he wrote to lyell: "is not krohn a good fellow? i have long meant to write to him. he has been working at cirripedes, and has detected two or three gigantic blunders, about which, i thank heaven, i spoke rather doubtfully. such difficult dissection that even huxley failed. it is chiefly the interpretation which i put on parts that is so wrong, and not the parts which i describe. but they were gigantic blunders, and why i say all this is because krohn, instead of crowing at all, pointed out my errors with the utmost gentleness and pleasantness." there are two papers by aug. krohn, one on the cement glands, and the other on the development of cirripedes, _weigmann's archiv._ xxv. and xxvi. see _autobiography_, p. , where my father remarks, "i blundered dreadfully about the cement glands." [ ] the duplicate type-specimens of my father's cirripedes are in the liverpool free public museum, as i learn from the rev. h. h. higgins. chapter ix. the foundations of the 'origin of species.' to give an account of the development of the chief work of my father's life--the _origin of species_, it will be necessary to return to an earlier date, and to weave into the story letters and other material, purposely omitted from the chapters dealing with the voyage and with his life at down. to be able to estimate the greatness of the work, we must know something of the state of knowledge on the species question at the time when the germs of the darwinian theory were forming in my father's mind. for the brief sketch which i can here insert, i am largely indebted to vol. ii. chapter v. of the _life and letters_--a discussion on the _reception of the origin of species_ which mr. huxley "was good enough to write for me, also to the masterly obituary essay on my father, which the same writer contributed to the proceedings of the royal society."[ ] mr. huxley has well said[ ]: "to any one who studies the signs of the times, the emergence of the philosophy of evolution, in the attitude of claimant to the throne of the world of thought, from the limbo of hated and, as many hoped, forgotten things, is the most portentous event of the nineteenth century." in the autobiographical chapter, my father has given an account of his share in this great work: the present chapter does little more than expand that story. two questions naturally occur to one: ( )--when and how did darwin become convinced that species are mutable? how (that is to say) did he begin to believe in evolution. and ( )--when and how did he conceive the manner in which species are modified; when did he begin to believe in natural selection? the first question is the more difficult of the two to answer. he has said in the _autobiography_ (p. ) that certain facts observed by him in south america seemed to be explicable only on the "supposition that species gradually become modified." he goes on to say that the subject "haunted him"; and i think it is especially worthy of note that this "haunting,"--this unsatisfied dwelling on the subject was connected with the desire to explain _how_ species can be modified. it was characteristic of him to feel, as he did, that it was "almost useless" to endeavour to prove the general truth of evolution, unless the cause of change could be discovered. i think that throughout his life the questions and were intimately,--perhaps unduly so, connected in his mind. it will be shown, however, that after the publication of the _origin_, when his views were being weighed in the balance of scientific opinion, it was to the acceptance of evolution not of natural selection that he attached importance. an interesting letter (feb. , ) to dr. otto zacharias,[ ] gives the same impression as the _autobiography_:-- "when i was on board the _beagle_ i believed in the permanence of species, but as far as i can remember, vague doubts occasionally flitted across my mind. on my return home in the autumn of , i immediately began to prepare my journal for publication, and then saw how many facts indicated the common descent of species, so that in july, , i opened a note-book to record any facts which might bear on the question. but i did not become convinced that species were mutable until, i think, two or three years had elapsed." two years bring us to , at which date the idea of natural selection had already occurred to him--a fact which agrees with what has been said above. how far the idea that evolution is conceivable came to him from earlier writers it is not possible to say. he has recorded in the _autobiography_ (p. ) the "silent astonishment with which, about the year , he heard grant expound the lamarckian philosophy." he goes on:-- "i had previously read the _zoonomia_ of my grandfather, in which similar views are maintained, but without producing any effect on me. nevertheless, it is probable that the hearing rather early in life such views maintained and praised, may have favoured my upholding them under a different form in my _origin of species_. at this time i admired greatly the _zoonomia_; but on reading it a second time after an interval of ten or fifteen years, i was much disappointed; the proportion of speculation being so large to the facts given." mr. huxley has well said (obituary notice, p. ii.): "erasmus darwin, was in fact an anticipator of lamarck, and not of charles darwin; there is no trace in his works of the conception by the addition of which his grandson metamorphosed the theory of evolution as applied to living things, and gave it a new foundation." on the whole it seems to me that the effect on his mind of the earlier evolutionists was inappreciable, and as far as concerns the history of the _origin of the species_, it is of no particular importance, because, as before said, evolution made no progress in his mind until the cause of modification was conceivable. i think mr. huxley is right in saying[ ] that "it is hardly too much to say that darwin's greatest work is the outcome of the unflinching application to biology of the leading idea, and the method applied in the _principles_ to geology." mr. huxley has elsewhere[ ] admirably expressed the bearing of lyell's work in this connection:-- "i cannot but believe that lyell, for others, as for myself, was the chief agent in smoothing the road for darwin. for consistent uniformitarianism postulates evolution as much in the organic as in the inorganic world. the origin of a new species by other than ordinary agencies would be a vastly greater 'catastrophe' than any of those which lyell successfully eliminated from sober geological speculation.... "lyell,[ ] with perfect right, claims this position for himself. he speaks of having 'advocated a law of continuity even in the organic world, so far as possible without adopting lamarck's theory of transmutation.... "'but while i taught,' lyell goes on, 'that as often as certain forms of animals and plants disappeared, for reasons quite intelligible to us, others took their place by virtue of a causation which was beyond our comprehension; it remained for darwin to accumulate proof that there is no break between the incoming and the outgoing species, that they are the work of evolution, and not of special creation.... i had certainly prepared the way in this country, in six editions of my work before the _vestiges of creation_ appeared in [ ], for the reception of darwin's gradual and insensible evolution of species.'" mr. huxley continues:-- "if one reads any of the earlier editions of the _principles_ carefully (especially by the light of the interesting series of letters recently published by sir charles lyell's biographer), it is easy to see that, with all his energetic opposition to lamarck, on the one hand, and to the ideal quasi-progressionism of agassiz, on the other, lyell, in his own mind, was strongly disposed to account for the origination of all past and present species of living things by natural causes. but he would have liked, at the same time, to keep the name of creation for a natural process which he imagined to be incomprehensible." the passage above given refers to the influence of lyell in preparing men's minds for belief in the _origin_, but i cannot doubt that it "smoothed the way" for the author of that work in his early searchings, as well as for his followers. my father spoke prophetically when he wrote the dedication to lyell of the second edition of the _journal of researches_ ( ). "to charles lyell, esq., f.r.s., this second edition is dedicated with grateful pleasure--as an acknowledgment that the chief part of whatever scientific merit this journal and the other works of the author may possess, has been derived from studying the well-known and admirable _principles of geology_." professor judd, in some reminiscences of my father which he was so good as to give me, quotes him as saying that, "it was the reading of the _principles of geology_ which did most towards moulding his mind and causing him to take up the line of investigation to which his life was devoted." the _rôle_ that lyell played as a pioneer makes his own point of view as to evolution all the more remarkable. as the late h. c. watson wrote to my father (december , ):-- now these novel views are brought fairly before the scientific public, it seems truly remarkable how so many of them could have failed to see their right road sooner. how could sir c. lyell, for instance, for thirty years read, write, and think, on the subject of species _and their succession_, and yet constantly look down the wrong road! "a quarter of a century ago, you and i must have been in something like the same state of mind on the main question. but you were able to see and work out the _quo modo_ of the succession, the all-important thing, while i failed to grasp it." in his earlier attitude towards evolution, my father was on a par with his contemporaries. he wrote in the _autobiography_:-- "i occasionally sounded not a few naturalists, and never happened to come across a single one who seemed to doubt about the permanence of species:" and it will be made abundantly clear by his letters that in supporting the opposite view he felt himself a terrible heretic. mr. huxley[ ] writes in the same sense:-- "within the ranks of biologists, at that time [ - ], i met with nobody, except dr. grant, of university college, who had a word to say for evolution--and his advocacy was not calculated to advance the cause. outside these ranks, the only person known to me whose knowledge and capacity compelled respect, and who was, at the same time, a thorough-going evolutionist, was mr. herbert spencer, whose acquaintance i made, i think, in , and then entered into the bonds of a friendship which, i am happy to think, has known no interruption. many and prolonged were the battles we fought on this topic. but even my friend's rare dialectic skill and copiousness of apt illustration could not drive me from my agnostic position. i took my stand upon two grounds: firstly, that up to that time, the evidence in favour of transmutation was wholly insufficient; and, secondly, that no suggestion respecting the causes of the transmutation assumed, which had been made, was in any way adequate to explain the phenomena. looking back at the state of knowledge at that time, i really do not see that any other conclusion was justifiable." these two last citations refer of course to a period much later than the time, - , at which the darwinian theory was growing in my father's mind. the same thing is however true of earlier days. so much for the general problem: the further question as to the growth of darwin's theory of natural selection is a less complex one, and i need add but little to the history given in the _autobiography_ of how he came by that great conception by the help of which he was able to revivify "the oldest of all philosophies--that of evolution." the first point in the slow journey towards the _origin of species_ was the opening of that note-book of of which mention has been already made. the reader who is curious on the subject will find a series of citations from this most interesting note-book, in the _life and letters_, vol. ii. p. , _et seq._ the two following extracts show that he applied the theory of evolution to the "whole organic kingdom" from plants to man. "if we choose to let conjecture run wild, then animals, our fellow brethren in pain, disease, death, suffering and famine--our slaves in the most laborious works, our companions in our amusements--they may partake [of] our origin in one common ancestor--we may be all melted together." "the different intellects of man and animals not so great as between living things without thought (plants), and living things with thought (animals)." speaking of intermediate forms, he remarks:-- "opponents will say--_show them me_. i will answer yes, if you will show me every step between bulldog and greyhound." here we see that the argument from domestic animals was already present in his mind as bearing on the production of natural species, an argument which he afterwards used with such signal force in the _origin_. a comparison of the two editions of the _naturalists' voyage_ is instructive, as giving some idea of the development of his views on evolution. it does not give us a true index of the mass of conjecture which was taking shape in his mind, but it shows us that he felt sure enough of the truth of his belief to allow a stronger tinge of evolution to appear in the second edition. he has mentioned in the _autobiography_ (p. ), that it was not until he read malthus that he got a clear view of the potency of natural selection. this was in --a year after he finished the first edition (it was not published until ), and seven years before the second edition was issued ( ). thus the turning-point in the formation of his theory took place between the writing of the two editions. yet the difference between the two editions is not very marked; it is another proof of the author's caution and self-restraint in the treatment of his ideas. after reading the second edition of the _voyage_ we remember with a strong feeling of surprise how far advanced were his views when he wrote it. these views are given in the manuscript volume of , mentioned in the _autobiography_. i give from my father's pocket-book the entries referring to the preliminary sketch of this historic essay. "_ , may _,--went to maer. _june _--to shrewsbury, and th to capel curig. during my stay at maer and shrewsbury ... wrote pencil sketch of species theory."[ ] in , the pencil-sketch was enlarged to one of folio pages, which is a wonderfully complete presentation of the arguments familiar to us in the _origin_. the following letter shows in a striking manner the value my father put on this piece of work. _c. d. to mrs. darwin._ down [july , ]. ... i have just finished my sketch of my species theory. if, as i believe, my theory in time be accepted even by one competent judge, it will be a considerable step in science. i therefore write this in case of my sudden death, as my most solemn and last request, which i am sure you will consider the same as if legally entered in my will, that you will devote £ to its publication, and further, will yourself, or through hensleigh,[ ] take trouble in promoting it. i wish that my sketch be given to some competent person, with this sum to induce him to take trouble in its improvement and enlargement. i give to him all my books on natural history, which are either scored or have references at the end to the pages, begging him carefully to look over and consider such passages as actually bearing, or by possibility bearing, on this subject. i wish you to make a list of all such books as some temptation to an editor. i also request that you will hand over [to] him all those scraps roughly divided in eight or ten brown paper portfolios. the scraps, with copied quotations from various works, are those which may aid my editor. i also request that you, or some amanuensis, will aid in deciphering any of the scraps which the editor may think possibly of use. i leave to the editor's judgment whether to interpolate these facts in the text, or as notes, or under appendices. as the looking over the references and scraps will be a long labour, and as the _correcting_ and enlarging and altering my sketch will also take considerable time, i leave this sum of £ as some remuneration, and any profits from the work, i consider that for this the editor is bound to get the sketch published either at a publisher's or his own risk. many of the scraps in the portfolios contain mere rude suggestions and early views, now useless, and many of the facts will probably turn out as having no bearing on my theory. with respect to editors, mr. lyell would be the best if he would undertake it; i believe he would find the work pleasant, and he would learn some facts new to him. as the editor must be a geologist as well as a naturalist, the next best editor would be professor forbes of london. the next best (and quite best in many respects) would be professor henslow. dr. hooker would be _very_ good. the next, mr. strickland.[ ] if none of these would undertake it, i would request you to consult with mr. lyell, or some other capable man for some editor, a geologist and naturalist. should one other hundred pounds make the difference of procuring a good editor, i request earnestly that you will raise £ . my remaining collections in natural history may be given to any one or any museum where [they] would be accepted.... the following note seems to have formed part of the original letter, but may have been of later date: "lyell, especially with the aid of hooker (and of any good zoological aid), would be best of all. without an editor will pledge himself to give up time to it, it would be of no use paying such a sum." "it there should be any difficulty in getting an editor who would go thoroughly into the subject, and think of the bearing of the passages marked in the books and copied out [on?] scraps of paper, then let my sketch be published as it is, stating that it was done several years ago[ ] and from memory without consulting any works, and with no intention of publication in its present form." the idea that the sketch of might remain, in the event of his death, as the only record of his work, seems to have been long in his mind, for in august , when he had finished with the cirripedes, and was thinking of beginning his "species work," he added on the back of the above letter, "hooker by far best man to edit my species volume. august ." footnotes: [ ] vol. xliv. no. . [ ] _life and letters_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] this letter was unaccountably overlooked in preparing the _life and letters_ for publication. [ ] _obituary notice_, p. viii. [ ] _life and letters_, vol. ii. p. . in mr. huxley's chapter the passage beginning "lyell with perfect right...." is given as a footnote: it will be seen that i have incorporated it with mr. huxley's text. [ ] lyell's _life and letters_, letter to haeckel, vol. ii. p. . nov. , . [ ] _life and letters_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] i have discussed in the _life and letters_ the statement often made that the first sketch of his theory was written in . [ ] the late mr. h. wedgwood. [ ] after mr. strickland's name comes the following sentence, which has been erased, but remains legible: "professor owen would be very good; but i presume he would not undertake such a work." [ ] the words "several years ago and," seem to have been added at a later date. chapter x. the growth of the 'origin of species.' - . the history of the years - is here related in an extremely abbreviated fashion. it was a period of minute labour on a variety of subjects, and the letters accordingly abound in detail. they are in many ways extremely interesting, more especially so to professed naturalists, and the picture of patient research which they convey is of great value from a biographical point of view. but such a picture must either be given in a complete series of unabridged letters, or omitted altogether. the limits of space compel me to the latter choice. the reader must imagine my father corresponding on problems in geology, geographical distribution, and classification; at the same time collecting facts on such varied points as the stripes on horses' legs, the floating of seeds, the breeding of pigeons, the form of bees' cells and the innumerable other questions to which his gigantic task demanded answers. the concluding letter of the last chapter has shown how strong was his conviction of the value of his work. it is impressive evidence of the condition of the scientific atmosphere, to discover, as in the following letters to sir joseph hooker, how small was the amount of encouragement that he dared to hope for from his brother-naturalists. [january th, .] ... i have been now ever since my return engaged in a very presumptuous work, and i know no one individual who would not say a very foolish one. i was so struck with the distribution of the galapagos organisms, &c. &c., and with the character of the american fossil mammifers, &c. &c., that i determined to collect blindly every sort of fact, which could bear any way on what are species. i have read heaps of agricultural and horticultural books, and have never ceased collecting facts. at last gleams of light have come, and i am almost convinced (quite contrary to the opinion i started with) that species are not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable. heaven forfend me from lamarck nonsense of a "tendency to progression," "adaptations from the slow willing of animals," &c.! but the conclusions i am led to are not widely different from his; though the means of change are wholly so. i think i have found out (here's presumption!) the simple way by which species become exquisitely adapted to various ends. you will now groan, and think to yourself, "on what a man have i been wasting my time and writing to." i should, five years ago, have thought so.... and again ( ):-- "in my most sanguine moments, all i expect, is that i shall be able to show even to sound naturalists, that there are two sides to the question of the immutability of species--that facts can be viewed and grouped under the notion of allied species having descended from common stocks. with respect to books on this subject, i do not know of any systematical ones, except lamarck's which is veritable rubbish: but there are plenty, as lyell, pritchard, &c., on the view of the immutability. agassiz lately has brought the strongest argument in favour of immutability. isidore g. st. hilaire has written some good essays, tending towards the mutability-side, in the _suites à buffon_, entitled _zoolog. générale_. is it not strange that the author of such a book as the _animaux sans vertèbres_ should have written that insects, which never see their eggs, should will (and plants, their seeds) to be of particular forms, so as to become attached to particular objects. the other common (specially germanic) notion is hardly less absurd, viz. that climate, food, &c., should make a pediculus formed to climb hair, or a wood-pecker to climb trees. i believe all these absurd views arise from no one having, as far as i know, approached the subject on the side of variation under domestication, and having studied all that is known about domestication." "i hate arguments from results, but on my views of descent, really natural history becomes a sublimely grand result-giving subject (now you may quiz me for so foolish an escape of mouth)...." _c. d. to l. jenyns_[ ] down oct. th [ ]. my dear jenyns--thanks for your note. i am sorry to say i have not even the tail-end of a fact in english zoology to communicate. i have found that even trifling observations require, in my case, some leisure and energy, [of] both of which ingredients i have had none to spare, as writing my geology thoroughly expends both. i had always thought that i would keep a journal and record everything, but in the way i now live i find i observe nothing to record. looking after my garden and trees, and occasionally a very little walk in an idle frame of my mind, fill up every afternoon in the same manner. i am surprised that with all your parish affairs, you have had time to do all that which you have done. i shall be very glad to see your little work[ ] (and proud should i have been if i could have added a single fact to it). my work on the species question has impressed me very forcibly with the importance of all such works as your intended one, containing what people are pleased generally to call trifling facts. these are the facts which make one understand the working or economy of nature. there is one subject, on which i am very curious, and which perhaps you may throw some light on, if you have ever thought on it; namely, what are the checks and what the periods of life--by which the increase of any given species is limited. just calculate the increase of any bird, if you assume that only half the young are reared, and these breed: within the _natural_ (i.e. if free from accidents) life of the parents the number of individuals will become enormous, and i have been much surprised to think how great destruction _must_ annually or occasionally be falling on every species, yet the means and period of such destruction are scarcely perceived by us. i have continued steadily reading and collecting facts on variation of domestic animals and plants, and on the question of what are species. i have a grand body of facts, and i think i can draw some sound conclusions. the general conclusions at which i have slowly been driven from a directly opposite conviction, is that species are mutable, and that allied species are co-descendants from common stocks. i know how much i open myself to reproach for such a conclusion, but i have at least honestly and deliberately come to it. i shall not publish on this subject for several years. _c. darwin to l. jenyns._[ ] down [ ?]. with respect to my far distant work on species, i must have expressed myself with singular inaccuracy if i led you to suppose that i meant to say that my conclusions were inevitable. they have become so, after years of weighing puzzles, to myself _alone_; but in my wildest day-dream, i never expect more than to be able to show that there are two sides to the question of the immutability of species, i.e. whether species are _directly_ created or by intermediate laws (as with the life and death of individuals). i did not approach the subject on the side of the difficulty in determining what are species and what are varieties, but (though why i should give you such a history of my doings it would be hard to say) from such facts as the relationship between the living and extinct mammifers in south america, and between those living on the continent and on adjoining islands, such as the galapagos. it occurred to me that a collection of all such analogous facts would throw light either for or against the view of related species being co-descendants from a common stock. a long searching amongst agricultural and horticultural books and people makes me believe (i well know how absurdly presumptuous this must appear) that i see the way in which new varieties become exquisitely adapted to the external conditions of life and to other surrounding beings. i am a bold man to lay myself open to being thought a complete fool, and a most deliberate one. from the nature of the grounds which make me believe that species are mutable in form, these grounds cannot be restricted to the closest-allied species; but how far they extend i cannot tell, as my reasons fall away by degrees, when applied to species more and more remote from each other. pray do not think that i am so blind as not to see that there are numerous immense difficulties in my notions, but they appear to me less than on the common view. i have drawn up a sketch and had it copied (in pages) of my conclusions; and if i thought at some future time that you would think it worth reading, i should, of course, be most thankful to have the criticism of so competent a critic. excuse this very long and egotistical and ill-written letter, which by your remarks you have led me into. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down [ - ?]. ... how painfully (to me) true is your remark, that no one has hardly a right to examine the question of species who has not minutely described many. i was, however, pleased to hear from owen (who is vehemently opposed to any mutability in species), that he thought it was a very fair subject, and that there was a mass of facts to be brought to bear on the question, not hitherto collected. my only comfort is (as i mean to attempt the subject), that i have dabbled in several branches of natural history, and seen good specific men work out my species, and know something of geology (an indispensable union); and though i shall get more kicks than half-pennies, i will, life serving, attempt my work. lamarck is the only exception, that i can think of, of an accurate describer of species at least in the invertebrate kingdom, who has disbelieved in permanent species, but he in his absurd though clever work has done the subject harm, as has mr. vestiges, and, as (some future loose naturalist attempting the same speculations will perhaps say) has mr. d.... _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ september th [ ]. in my own cirripedial work (by the way, thank you for the dose of soft solder; it does one--or at least me--a great deal of good)--in my own work i have not felt conscious that disbelieving in the mere _permanence_ of species has made much difference one way or the other; in some few cases (if publishing avowedly on the doctrine of non-permanence), i should _not_ have affixed names, and in some few cases should have affixed names to remarkable varieties. certainly i have felt it humiliating, discussing and doubting, and examining over and over again, when in my own mind the only doubt has been whether the form varied _to-day or yesterday_ (not to put too fine a point on it, as snagsby[ ] would say). after describing a set of forms as distinct species, tearing up my ms., and making them one species, tearing that up and making them separate, and then making them one again (which has happened to me), i have gnashed my teeth, cursed species, and asked what sin i had committed to be so punished. but i must confess that perhaps nearly the same thing would have happened to me on any scheme of work. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down, march th [ ]. my dear hooker--i had hoped that you would have had a little breathing-time after your journal,[ ] but this seems to be very far from the case; and i am the more obliged (and somewhat contrite) for the long letter received this morning, _most_ juicy with news and _most_ interesting to me in many ways. i am very glad indeed to hear of the reforms, &c., in the royal society. with respect to the club,[ ] i am deeply interested; only two or three days ago, i was regretting to my wife, how i was letting drop and being dropped by nearly all my acquaintances, and that i would endeavour to go oftener to london; i was not then thinking of the club, which, as far as one thing goes, would answer my exact object in keeping up old and making some new acquaintances. i will therefore come up to london for every (with rare exceptions) club-day, and then my head, i think, will allow me on an average to go to every other meeting. but it is grievous how often any change knocks me up. i will further pledge myself, as i told lyell, to resign after a year, if i did not attend pretty often, so that i should _at worst_ encumber the club temporarily. if you can get me elected, i certainly shall be very much pleased.... i am particularly obliged to you for sending me asa gray's letter; how very pleasantly he writes. to see his and your caution on the species-question ought to overwhelm me in confusion and shame; it does make me feel deuced uncomfortable.... i was pleased and surprised to see a. gray's remarks on crossing obliterating varieties, on which, as you know, i have been collecting facts for these dozen years. how awfully flat i shall feel, if, when i got my notes together on species, &c. &c., the whole thing explodes like an empty puff-ball. do not work yourself to death. ever yours most truly. to work out the problem of the geographical distribution of animals and plants on evolutionary principles, darwin had to study the means by which seeds, eggs, &c., can be transported across wide spaces of ocean. it was this need which gave an interest to the class of experiment to which the following letters refer. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ april th [ ]. ... i have had one experiment some little time in progress which will, i think, be interesting, namely, seeds in salt water, immersed in water of °- °, which i have and shall long have, as i filled a great tank with snow. when i wrote last i was going to triumph over you, for my experiment had in a slight degree succeeded; but this, with infinite baseness, i did not tell, in hopes that you would say that you would eat all the plants which i could raise after immersion. it is very aggravating that i cannot in the least remember what you did formerly say that made me think you scoffed at the experiments vastly; for you now seem to view the experiment like a good christian. i have in small bottles out of doors, exposed to variation of temperature, cress, radish, cabbages, lettuces, carrots, and celery, and onion seed. these, after immersion for exactly one week, have all germinated, which i did not in the least expect (and thought how you would sneer at me); for the water of nearly all, and of the cress especially, smelt very badly, and the cress seed emitted a wonderful quantity of mucus (the _vestiges_[ ] would have expected them to turn into tadpoles), so as to adhere in a mass; but these seeds germinated and grew splendidly. the germination of all (especially cress and lettuces) has been accelerated, except the cabbages, which have come up very irregularly, and a good many, i think, dead. one would, have thought, from their native habitat, that the cabbage would have stood well. the umbelliferæ and onions seem to stand the salt well. i wash the seed before planting them. i have written to the _gardeners' chronicle_,[ ] though i doubt whether it was worth while. if my success seems to make it worth while, i will send a seed list, to get you to mark some different classes of seeds. to-day i replant the same seeds as above after fourteen days' immersion. as many sea-currents go a mile an hour, even in a week they might be transported miles; the gulf stream is said to go fifty and sixty miles a day. so much and too much on this head; but my geese are always swans.... _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ [april th, .] ... you are a good man to confess that you expected the cress would be killed in a week, for this gives me a nice little triumph. the children at first were tremendously eager, and asked me often, "whether i should beat dr. hooker!" the cress and lettuce have just vegetated well after twenty-one days' immersion. but i will write no more, which is a great virtue in me; for it is to me a very great pleasure telling you everything i do. ... if you knew some of the experiments (if they may be so called) which i am trying, you would have a good right to sneer, for they are so _absurd_ even in _my_ opinion that i dare not tell you. have not some men a nice notion of experimentising? i have had a letter telling me that seeds _must_ have _great_ power of resisting salt water, for otherwise how could they get to islands'? this is the true way to solve a problem? experiments on the transportal of seeds through the agency of animals, also gave him much labour. he wrote to fox ( ):-- "all nature is perverse and will not do as i wish it; and just at present i wish i had my old barnacles to work at, and nothing new." and to hooker:-- "everything has been going wrong with me lately: the fish at the zoolog. soc. ate up lots of soaked seeds, and in imagination they had in my mind been swallowed, fish and all, by a heron, had been carried a hundred miles, been voided on the banks of some other lake and germinated splendidly, when lo and behold, the fish ejected vehemently, and with disgust equal to my own, _all_ the seeds from their mouths." the unfinished book. in his autobiographical sketch (p. ) my father wrote:--"early in lyell advised me to write out my views pretty fully, and i began at once to do so on a scale three or four times as extensive as that which was afterwards followed in my _origin of species_; yet it was only an abstract of the materials which i had collected." the remainder of the present chapter is chiefly concerned with the preparation of this unfinished book. the work was begun on may th, and steadily continued up to june , when it was interrupted by the arrival of mr. wallace's ms. during the two years which we are now considering, he wrote ten chapters (that is about one-half) of the projected book. _c. d. to j. d. hooker_. may th [ ]. ... i very much want advice and _truthful_ consolation if you can give it. i had a good talk with lyell about my species work, and he urges me strongly to publish something. i am fixed against any periodical or journal, as i positively will _not_ expose myself to an editor or a council allowing a publication for which they might be abused. if i publish anything it must be a _very thin_ and little volume, giving a sketch of my views and difficulties; but it is really dreadfully unphilosophical to give a _résumé_, without exact references, of an unpublished work. but lyell seemed to think i might do this, at the suggestion of friends, and on the ground, which i i might state, that i had been at work for eighteen[ ] years, and yet could not publish for several years, and especially as i could point out difficulties which seemed to me to require especial investigation. now what think you? i should be really grateful for advice. i thought of giving up a couple of months and writing such a sketch, and trying to keep my judgment open whether or no to publish it when completed. it will be simply impossible for me to give exact references; anything important i should state on the authority of the author generally; and instead of giving all the facts on which i ground my opinion, i could give by memory only one or two. in the preface i would state that the work could not be considered strictly scientific, but a mere sketch or outline of a future work in which full references, &c., should be given. eheu, eheu, i believe i should sneer at any one else doing this, and my only comfort is, that i _truly_ never dreamed of it, till lyell suggested it, and seems deliberately to think it advisable. i am in a peck of troubles, and do pray forgive me for troubling you. yours affectionately. he made an attempt at a sketch of his views, but as he wrote to fox in october :-- "i found it such unsatisfactory work that i have desisted, and am now drawing up my work as perfect as my materials of nineteen years' collecting suffice, but do not intend to stop to perfect any line of investigation beyond current work." and in november he wrote to sir charles lyell:-- "i am working very steadily at my big book; i have found it quite impossible to publish any preliminary essay or sketch; but am doing my work as completely as my present materials allow without waiting to perfect them. and this much acceleration i owe to you." again to mr. fox, in february, :-- "i am got most deeply interested in my subject; though i wish i could set less value on the bauble fame, either present or posthumous, than i do, but not i think, to any extreme degree: yet, if i know myself, i would work just as hard, though with less gusto, if i knew that my book would be published for ever anonymously." _c. d. to a. r. wallace._ moor park, may st, . my dear sir--i am much obliged for your letter of october th, from celebes, received a few days ago; in a laborious undertaking, sympathy is a valuable and real encouragement. by your letter and even still more by your paper[ ] in the annals, a year or more ago, i can plainly see that we have thought much alike and to a certain extent have come to similar conclusions. in regard to the paper in the annals, i agree to the truth of almost every word of your paper; and i dare say that you will agree with me that it is very rare to find oneself agreeing pretty closely with any theoretical paper; for it is lamentable how each man draws his own different conclusions from the very same facts. this summer will make the th year (!) since i opened my first note-book, on the question how and in what way do species and varieties differ from each other. i am now preparing my work for publication, but i find the subject so very large, that though i have written many chapters, i do not suppose i shall go to press for two years. i have never heard how long you intend staying in the malay archipelago; i wish i might profit by the publication of your travels there before my work appears, for no doubt you will reap a large harvest of facts. i have acted already in accordance with your advice of keeping domestic varieties, and those appearing in a state of nature, distinct; but i have sometimes doubted of the wisdom of this, and therefore i am glad to be backed by your opinion. i must confess, however, i rather doubt the truth of the now very prevalent doctrine of all our domestic animals having descended from several wild stocks; though i do not doubt that it is so in some cases. i think there is rather better evidence on the sterility of hybrid animals than you seem to admit: and in regard to plants the collection of carefully recorded facts by kölreuter and gaertner (and herbert) is _enormous_. i most entirely agree with you on the little effects of "climatal conditions," which one sees referred to _ad nauseam_ in all books: i suppose some very little effect must be attributed to such influences, but i fully believe that they are very slight. it is really _impossible_ to explain my views (in the compass of a letter), on the causes and means of variation in a state of nature; but i have slowly adopted a distinct and tangible idea,--whether true or false others must judge; for the firmest conviction of the truth of a doctrine by its author, seems, alas, not to be the slightest guarantee of truth!... in december he wrote to the same correspondent:-- "you ask whether i shall discuss 'man.' i think i shall avoid the whole subject, as so surrounded with prejudices; though i fully admit that it is the highest and most interesting problem for the naturalist. my work, on which i have now been at work more or less for twenty years, will not fix or settle anything; but i hope it will aid by giving a large collection of facts, with one definite end. i get on very slowly, partly from ill-health, partly from being a very slow worker. i have got about half written; but i do not suppose i shall publish under a couple of years. i have now been three whole months on one chapter on hybridism! "i am astonished to see that you expect to remain out three or four years more. what a wonderful deal you will have seen, and what interesting areas--the grand malay archipelago and the richest parts of south america! i infinitely admire and honour your zeal and courage in the good cause of natural science; and you have my very sincere and cordial good wishes for success of all kinds, and may all your theories succeed, except that on oceanic islands, on which subject i will do battle to the death." and to fox in february :-- "i am working very hard at my book, perhaps too hard. it will be very big, and i am become most deeply interested in the way facts fall into groups. i am like croesus overwhelmed with my riches in facts, and i mean to make my book as perfect as ever i can. i shall not go to press at soonest for a couple of years." the letter which follows, written from his favourite resting place, the water-cure establishment at moor park, comes in like a lull before the storm,--the upset of all his plans by the arrival of mr. wallace's manuscript, a phase in the history of his life to which the next chapter is devoted. _c. d. to mrs. darwin._ moor park, april [ ]. the weather is quite delicious. yesterday, after writing to you, i strolled a little beyond the glade for an hour and a half, and enjoyed myself--the fresh yet dark green of the grand scotch firs, the brown of the catkins of the old birches, with their white stems, and a fringe of distant green from the larches, made an excessively pretty view. at last i fell fast asleep on the grass, and awoke with a chorus of birds singing around me, and squirrels running up the trees, and some woodpeckers laughing, and it was as pleasant and rural a scene as ever i saw, and i did not care one penny how any of the beasts or birds had been formed. i sat in the drawing-room till after eight, and then went and read the chief justice's summing up, and thought bernard[ ] guilty, and then read a bit of my novel, which is feminine, virtuous, clerical, philanthropical, and all that sort of thing, but very decidedly flat. i say feminine, for the author is ignorant about money matters, and not much of a lady--for she makes her men say, "my lady." i like miss craik very much, though we have some battles, and differ on every subject. i like also the hungarian; a thorough gentleman, formerly attaché at paris, and then in the austrian cavalry, and now a pardoned exile, with broken health. he does not seem to like kossuth, but says, he is certain [he is] a sincere patriot, most clever and eloquent, but weak, with no determination of character.... footnotes: [ ] rev. l. blomefield. [ ] mr. jenyns' _observations in natural history_. it is prefaced by an introduction on "habits of observing as connected with the study of natural history," and followed by a "calendar of periodic phenomena in natural history," with "remarks on the importance of such registers." [ ] rev. l. blomefield. [ ] in _bleak house_. [ ] sir joseph hooker's _himalayan journal_. [ ] the philosophical club, to which my father was elected (as professor bonney is good enough to inform me) on april , . he resigned his membership in . the club was founded in . the number of members being limited to , it was proposed to christen it "the club of ," but the name was never adopted. the nature of the club may be gathered from its first rule: "the purpose of the club is to promote as much as possible the scientific objects of the royal society; to facilitate intercourse between those fellows who are actively engaged in cultivating the various branches of natural science, and who have contributed to its progress; to increase the attendance at the evening meetings, and to encourage the contribution and discussion of papers." the club met for dinner at , and the chair was to be quitted at . , it being expected that members would go to the royal society. of late years the dinner has been at . , the society meeting in the afternoon. [ ] _the vestiges of creation_, by r. chambers. [ ] a few words asking for information. the results were published in the _gardeners' chronicle_, may , nov. , . in the same year (p. ) he sent a postscript to his former paper, correcting a misprint and adding a few words on the seeds of the leguminosæ. a fuller paper on the germination of seeds after treatment in salt water, appeared in the _linnean soc. journal_, , p. . [ ] the interval of eighteen years, from when he began to collect facts, would bring the date of this letter to , not , nevertheless the latter seems the more probable date. [ ] "on the law that has regulated the introduction of new species."--_ann. nat. hist._, . [ ] simon bernard was tried in april as an accessory to orsini's attempt on the life of the emperor of the french. the verdict was "not guilty." chapter xi. the writing of the 'origin of species.' "i have done my best. if you had all my material i am sure you would have made a splendid book."--from a letter to lyell, june , . june , , to november . _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, th [june ]. my dear lyell--some year or so ago you recommended me to read a paper by wallace in the _annals_,[ ] which had interested you, and as i was writing to him, i knew this would please him much, so i told him. he has to-day sent me the enclosed, and asked me to forward it to you. it seems to me well worth reading. your words have come true with a vengeance--that i should be forestalled. you said this, when i explained to you here very briefly my views of 'natural selection' depending on the struggle for existence. i never saw a more striking coincidence; if wallace had my ms. sketch written out in , he could not have made a better short abstract! even his terms now stand as heads of my chapters. please return me the ms., which he does not say he wishes me to publish, but i shall, of course, at once write and offer to send to any journal. so all my originality, whatever it may amount to, will be smashed, though my book, if it will ever have any value, will not be deteriorated; as all the labour consists in the application of the theory. i hope you will approve of wallace's sketch, that i may tell him what you say. my dear lyell, yours most truly. _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, [june , ]. my dear lyell--i am very sorry to trouble you, busy as you are, in so merely personal an affair; but if you will give me your deliberate opinion, you will do me as great a service as ever man did, for i have entire confidence in your judgment and honour.... there is nothing in wallace's sketch which is not written out much fuller in my sketch, copied out in , and read by hooker some dozen years ago. about a year ago i sent a short sketch, of which i have a copy, of my views (owing to correspondence on several points) to asa gray, so that i could most truly say and prove that i take nothing from wallace. i should be extremely glad now to publish a sketch of my general views in about a dozen pages or so; but i cannot persuade myself that i can do so honourably. wallace says nothing about publication, and i enclose his letter. but as i had not intended to publish any sketch, can i do so honourably, because wallace has sent me an outline of his doctrine? i would far rather burn my whole book, than that he or any other man should think that i had behaved in a paltry spirit. do you not think his having sent me this sketch ties my hands?... if i could honourably publish, i would state that i was induced now to publish a sketch (and i should be very glad to be permitted to say, to follow your advice long ago given) from wallace having sent me an outline of my general conclusions. we differ only, [in] that i was led to my views from what artificial selection has done for domestic animals. i would send wallace a copy of my letter to asa gray, to show him that i had not stolen his doctrine. but i cannot tell whether to publish now would not be base and paltry. this was my first impression, and i should have certainly acted on it had it not been for your letter. this is a trumpery affair to trouble you with, but you cannot tell how much obliged i should be for your advice. by the way, would you object to send this and your answer to hooker to be forwarded to me? for then i shall have the opinion of my two best and kindest friends. this letter is miserably written, and i write it now, that i may for a time banish the whole subject; and i am worn out with musing.... my good dear friend, forgive me. this is a trumpery letter, influenced by trumpery feelings. yours most truly. i will never trouble you or hooker on the subject again. _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, th [june ]. my dear lyell--forgive me for adding a p.s. to make the case as strong as possible against myself. wallace might say, "you did not intend publishing an abstract of your views till you received my communication. is it fair to take advantage of my having freely, though unasked, communicated to you my ideas, and thus prevent me forestalling you?" the advantage which i should take being that i am induced to publish from privately knowing that wallace is in the field. it seems hard on me that i should be thus compelled to lose my priority of many years' standing, but i cannot feel at all sure that this alters the justice of the case. first impressions are generally right, and i at first thought it would be dishonourable in me now to publish. yours most truly. p.s.--i have always thought you would make a first-rate lord chancellor; and i now appeal to you as a lord chancellor. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ tuesday night [june , ]. my dear hooker--i have just read your letter, and see you want the papers at once. i am quite prostrated,[ ] and can do nothing, but i send wallace, and the abstract[ ] of my letter to asa gray, which gives most imperfectly only the means of change, and does not touch on reasons for believing that species do change. i dare say all is too late. i hardly care about it. but you are too generous to sacrifice so much time and kindness. it is most generous, most kind. i send my sketch of solely that you may see by your own handwriting that you did read it. i really cannot bear to look at it. do not waste much time. it is miserable in me to care at all about priority. the table of contents will show what it is. i would make a similar, but shorter and more accurate sketch for the _linnean journal_. i will do anything. god bless you, my dear kind friend. i can write no more. i send this by my servant to kew. the joint paper[ ] of mr. wallace and my father was read at the linnean society on the evening of july st. mr. wallace's essay bore the title, "on the tendency of varieties to depart indefinitely from the original type." my father's contribution to the paper consisted of ( ) extracts from the sketch of ; ( ) part of a letter, addressed to dr. asa gray, dated september , . the paper was "communicated" to the society by sir charles lyell and sir joseph hooker, in whose prefatory letter a clear account of the circumstances of the case is given. referring to mr. wallace's essay, they wrote:-- "so highly did mr. darwin appreciate the value of the views therein set forth, that he proposed, in a letter to sir charles lyell, to obtain mr. wallace's consent to allow the essay to be published as soon as possible. of this step we highly approved, provided mr. darwin did not withhold from the public, as he was strongly inclined to do (in favour of mr. wallace), the memoir which he had himself written on the same subject, and which, as before stated, one of us had perused in , and the contents of which we had both of us been privy to for many years. on representing this to mr. darwin, he gave us permission to make what use we thought proper of his memoir, &c.; and in adopting our present course, of presenting it to the linnean society, we have explained to him that we are not solely considering the relative claims to priority of himself and his friend, but the interests of science generally." sir charles lyell and sir j. d. hooker were present at the reading of the paper, and both, i believe, made a few remarks, chiefly with a view of impressing on those present the necessity of giving the most careful consideration to what they had heard. there was, however, no semblance of a discussion. sir joseph hooker writes to me: "the interest excited was intense, but the subject was too novel and too ominous for the old school to enter the lists, before armouring. after the meeting it was talked over with bated breath: lyell's approval and perhaps in a small way mine, as his lieutenant in the affair, rather overawed the fellows, who would otherwise have flown out against the doctrine. we had, too, the vantage ground of being familiar with the authors and their theme." mr. wallace has, at my request, been so good as to allow me to publish the following letter. professor newton, to whom the letter is addressed, had submitted to mr. wallace his recollections of what the latter had related to him many years before, and had asked mr. wallace for a fuller version of the story. hence the few corrections in mr. wallace's letter, for instance _bed_ for _hammock_. _a. r. wallace to a. newton._ frith hill, godalming, dec. rd, . my dear newton--i had hardly heard of darwin before going to the east, except as connected with the voyage of the _beagle_, which i _think_ i had read. i saw him _once_ for a few minutes in the british museum before i sailed. through stevens, my agent, i heard that he wanted curious _varieties_ which he was studying. i _think_ i wrote to him about some varieties of ducks i had sent, and he must have written once to me. i find on looking at his "life" that his _first_ letter to me is given in vol. ii. p. , and another at p. , both after the publication of my first paper. i must have heard from some notices in the _athenæum_, i think (which i had sent me), that he was studying varieties and species, and as i was continually thinking of the subject, i wrote to him giving some of my notions, and making some suggestions. but at that time i had not the remotest notion that he had already arrived at a definite theory--still less that it was the same as occurred to me, suddenly, in ternate in . the most interesting coincidence in the matter, i think, is, that i, _as well as darwin_, was led to the theory itself through malthus--in my case it was his elaborate account of the action of "preventive checks" in keeping down the population of savage races to a tolerably fixed, but scanty number. this had strongly impressed me, and it suddenly flashed upon me that all animals are necessarily thus kept down--"the struggle for existence"--while _variations_, on which i was always thinking, must necessarily often be _beneficial_, and would then cause those varieties to increase while the injurious variations diminished.[ ] you are quite at liberty to mention the circumstances, but i think you have coloured them a little highly, and introduced some slight errors. i was lying on my bed (no hammocks in the east) in the hot fit of intermittent fever, when the idea suddenly came to me. i thought it almost all out before the fit was over, and the moment i got up began to write it down, and i believe finished the first draft the next day. i had no idea whatever of "dying,"--as it was not a serious illness,--but i _had_ the idea of working it out, so far as i was able, when i returned home, not at all expecting that darwin had so long anticipated me. i can truly say _now_, as i said many years ago, that i am glad it was so; for i have not the love of _work_, _experiment_ and _detail_ that was so pre-eminent in darwin, and without which anything i could have written would never have convinced the world. if you do refer to me at any length, can you send me a proof and i will return it to you at once? yours faithfully alfred r. wallace. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ miss wedgwood's, hartfield, tunbridge wells [july th, ]. my dear hooker--your letter to wallace seems to me perfect, quite clear and most courteous. i do not think it could possibly be improved, and i have to-day forwarded it with a letter of my own. i always thought it very possible that i might be forestalled, but i fancied that i had a grand enough soul not to care; but i found myself mistaken, and punished; i had, however, quite resigned myself, and had written half a letter to wallace to give up all priority to him, and should certainly not have changed had it not been for lyell's and your quite extraordinary kindness. i assure you i feel it, and shall not forget it. i am _more_ than satisfied at what took place at the linnean society. i had thought that your letter and mine to asa gray were to be only an appendix to wallace's paper. we go from here in a few days to the sea-side, probably to the isle of wight, and on my return (after a battle with pigeon skeletons) i will set to work at the abstract, though how on earth i shall make anything of an abstract in thirty pages of the journal, i know not, but will try my best.... i must try and see you before your journey; but do not think i am fishing to ask you to come to down, for you will have no time for that. you cannot imagine how pleased i am that the notion of natural selection has acted as a purgative on your bowels of immutability. whenever naturalists can look at species changing as certain, what a magnificent field will be open,--on all the laws of variation,--on the genealogy of all living beings,--on their lines of migration, &c. &c. pray thank mrs. hooker for her very kind little note, and pray say how truly obliged i am, and in truth ashamed to think that she should have had the trouble of copying my ugly ms. it was extraordinarily kind in her. farewell, my dear kind friend. yours affectionately. p.s.--i have had some fun here in watching a slave-making ant; for i could not help rather doubting the wonderful stories, but i have now seen a defeated marauding party, and i have seen a migration from one nest to another of the slave-makers, carrying their slaves (who are _house_, and not field niggers) in their mouths! _c. d. to c. lyell._ king's head hotel, sandown, isle of wight. july th [ ]. ... we are established here for ten days, and then go on to shanklin, which seems more amusing to one, like myself, who cannot walk. we hope much that the sea may do h. and l. good. and if it does, our expedition will answer, but not otherwise. i have never half thanked you for all the extraordinary trouble and kindness you showed me about wallace's affair. hooker told me what was done at the linnean society, and i am far more than satisfied, and i do not think that wallace can think my conduct unfair in allowing you and hooker to do whatever you thought fair. i certainly was a little annoyed to lose all priority, but had resigned myself to my fate. i am going to prepare a longer abstract; but it is really impossible to do justice to the subject, except by giving the facts on which each conclusion is grounded, and that will, of course, be absolutely impossible. your name and hooker's name appearing as in any way the least interested in my work will, i am certain, have the most important bearing in leading people to consider the subject without prejudice. i look at this as so very important, that i am almost glad of wallace's paper for having led to this. my dear lyell, yours most gratefully. the following letter refers to the proof-sheets of the linnean paper. the 'introduction' means the prefatory letter signed by sir c. lyell and sir j. d. hooker. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ king's head hotel, sandown, isle of wight. july st [ ]. my dear hooker--i received only yesterday the proof-sheets, which i now return. i think your introduction cannot be improved. i am disgusted with my bad writing. i could not improve it, without rewriting all, which would not be fair or worth while, as i have begun on a better abstract for the linnean society. my excuse is that it _never_ was intended for publication. i have made only a few corrections in the style; but i cannot make it decent, but i hope moderately intelligible. i suppose some one will correct the revise. (shall i?) could i have a clean proof to send to wallace? i have not yet fully considered your remarks on big genera (but your general concurrence is of the _highest possible_ interest to me); nor shall i be able till i re-read my ms.; but you may rely on it that you never make a remark to me which is lost from _inattention_. i am particularly glad you do not object to my stating your objections in a modified form, for they always struck me as very important, and as having much inherent value, whether or no they were fatal to my notions. i will consider and reconsider all your remarks.... i am very glad at what you say about my abstract, but you may rely on it that i will condense to the utmost. i would aid in money if it is too long.[ ] in how many ways you have aided me! yours affectionately. the "abstract" mentioned in the last sentence of the preceding letter was in fact the _origin of species_, on which he now set to work. in his _autobiography_ (p. ) he speaks of beginning to write in september, but in his diary he wrote, "july to aug. , at sandown, began abstract of species book." "sep. , recommenced abstract." the book was begun with the idea that it would be published as a paper, or series of papers, by the linnean society, and it was only in the late autumn that it became clear that it must take the form of an independent volume. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ norfolk house, shanklin, isle of wight. [august .] my dear hooker,--i write merely to say that the ms. came safely two or three days ago. i am much obliged for the correction of style: i find it unutterably difficult to write clearly. when we meet i must talk over a few points on the subject. you speak of going to the sea-side somewhere; we think this the nicest sea-side place which we have ever seen, and we like shanklin better than other spots on the south coast of the island, though many are charming and prettier, so that i would suggest your thinking of this place. we are on the actual coast; but tastes differ so much about places. if you go to broadstairs, when there is a strong wind from the coast of france and in fine, dry, warm weather, look out and you will _probably_ (!) see thistle-seeds blown across the channel. the other day i saw one blown right inland, and then in a few minutes a second one and then a third; and i said to myself, god bless me, how many thistles there must be in france; and i wrote a letter in imagination to you. but i then looked at the _low_ clouds, and noticed that they were not coming inland, so i feared a screw was loose, i then walked beyond a headland and found the wind parallel to the coast, and on this very headland a noble bed of thistles, which by every wide eddy were blown far out to sea, and then came right in at right angles to the shore! one day such a number of insects were washed up by the tide, and i brought to life thirteen species of coleoptera; not that i suppose these came from france. but do you watch for thistle-seed as you saunter along the coast.... _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ [down] oct. th, . ... if you have or can make leisure, i should very much like to hear news of mrs. hooker, yourself, and the children. where did you go, and what did you do and are doing? there is a comprehensive text. you cannot tell how i enjoyed your little visit here. it did me much good. if harvey[ ] is still with you, pray remember me very kindly to him. ... i am working most steadily at my abstract [_origin of species_], but it grows to an inordinate length; yet fully to make my view clear (and never giving briefly more than a fact or two, and slurring over difficulties), i cannot make it shorter. it will yet take me three or four months; so slow do i work, though never idle. you cannot imagine what a service you have done me in making me make this abstract; for though i thought i had got all clear, it has clarified my brains very much, by making me weigh the relative importance of the several elements. he was not so fully occupied but that he could find time to help his boys in their collecting. he sent a short notice to the _entomologists' weekly intelligencer_, june th, , recording the capture of _licinus silphoides_, _clytus mysticus_, _panagæus -pustulatus_. the notice begins with the words, "we three very young collectors having lately taken in the parish of down," &c., and is signed by three of his boys, but was clearly not written by them. i have a vivid recollection of the pleasure of turning out my bottle of dead beetles for my father to name, and the excitement, in which he fully shared, when any of them proved to be uncommon ones. the following letter to mr. fox (nov. th, ), illustrates this point:-- "i am reminded of old days by my third boy having just begun collecting beetles, and he caught the other day _brachinus crepitans_, of immortal whittlesea mere memory. my blood boiled with old ardour when he caught a licinus--a prize unknown to me." and again to sir john lubbock:-- "i feel like an old war-horse at the sound of the trumpet when i read about the capturing of rare beetles--is not this a magnanimous simile for a decayed entomologist?--it really almost makes me long to begin collecting again. adios. "'floreat entomologia'!--to which toast at cambridge i have drunk many a glass of wine. so again, 'floreat entomologia.'--n.b. i have _not_ now been drinking any glasses full of wine." _c d. to j. d. hooker._ down, jan. rd, . ... i enclose letters to you and me from wallace. i admire extremely the spirit in which they are written. i never felt very sure what he would say. he must be an amiable man. please return that to me, and lyell ought to be told how well satisfied he is. these letters have vividly brought before me how much i owe to your and lyell's most kind and generous conduct in all this affair. ... how glad i shall be when the abstract is finished, and i can rest!... _c. d. to a. b. wallace._ down, jan. th [ ]. my dear sir,--i was extremely much pleased at receiving three days ago your letter to me and that to dr. hooker. permit me to say how heartily i admire the spirit in which they are written. though i had absolutely nothing whatever to do in leading lyell and hooker to what they thought a fair course of action, yet i naturally could not but feel anxious to hear what your impression would be. i owe indirectly much to you and them; for i almost think that lyell would have proved right, and i should never have completed my larger work, for i have found my abstract [_origin of species_] hard enough with my poor health, but now, thank god, i am in my last chapter but one. my abstract will make a small volume of or pages. whenever published, i will, of course, send you a copy, and then you will see what i mean about the part which i believe selection has played with domestic productions. it is a very different part, as you suppose, from that played by "natural selection." i sent off, by the same address as this note, a copy of the _journal of the linnean society_, and subsequently i have sent some half-dozen copies of the paper. i have many other copies at your disposal.... i am glad to hear that you have been attending to birds' nests. i have done so, though almost exclusively under one point of view, viz. to show that instincts vary, so that selection could work on and improve them. few other instincts, so to speak, can be preserved in a museum. many thanks for your offer to look after horses' stripes; if there are any donkeys, pray add them. i am delighted to hear that you have collected bees' combs.... this is an especial hobby of mine, and i think i can throw a light on the subject. if you can collect duplicates at no very great expense, i should be glad of some specimens for myself with some bees of each kind. young, growing, and irregular combs, and those which have not had pupæ, are most valuable for measurements and examination. their edges should be well protected against abrasion. every one whom i have seen has thought your paper very well written and interesting. it puts my extracts (written in ,[ ] now just twenty years ago!), which i must say in apology were never for an instant intended for publication, into the shade. you ask about lyell's frame of mind. i think he is somewhat staggered, but does not give in, and speaks with horror, often to me, of what a thing it would be, and what a job it would be for the next edition of _the principles_, if he were "perverted." but he is most candid and honest, and i think will end by being perverted. dr. hooker has become almost as heterodox as you or i, and i look at hooker as _by far_ the most capable judge in europe. most cordially do i wish you health and entire success in all your pursuits, and, god knows, if admirable zeal and energy deserve success, most amply do you deserve it. i look at my own career as nearly run out. if i can publish my abstract and perhaps my greater work on the same subject, i shall look at my course as done. believe me, my dear sir, yours very sincerely. in march the work was telling heavily on him. he wrote to fox:-- "i can see daylight through my work, and am now finally correcting my chapters for the press; and i hope in a month or six weeks to have proof-sheets. i am weary of my work. it is a very odd thing that i have no sensation that i overwork my brain; but facts compel me to conclude that my brain was never formed for much thinking. we are resolved to go for two or three months, when i have finished, to ilkley, or some such place, to see if i can anyhow give my health a good start, for it certainly has been wretched of late, and has incapacitated me for everything. you do me injustice when you think that i work for fame; i value it to a certain extent; but, if i know myself, i work from a sort of instinct to try to make out truth." _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, march th [ ]. my dear lyell,--if i keep decently well, i hope to be able to go to press with my volume early in may. this being so, i want much to beg a little advice from you. from an expression in lady lyell's note, i fancy that you have spoken to murray. is it so? and is he willing to publish my abstract?[ ] if you will tell me whether anything, and what has passed, i will then write to him. does he know at all of the subject of the book? secondly, can you advise me whether i had better state what terms of publication i should prefer, or first ask him to propose terms? and what do you think would be fair terms for an edition? share profits, or what? lastly, will you be so very kind as to look at the enclosed title and give me your opinion and any criticisms; you must remember that, if i have health, and it appears worth doing, i have a much larger and full book on the same subject nearly ready. my abstract will be about five hundred pages of the size of your first edition of the _elements of geology_. pray forgive me troubling you with the above queries; and you shall have no more trouble on the subject. i hope the world goes well with you, and that you are getting on with your various works. i am working very hard for me, and long to finish and be free and try to recover some health. my dear lyell, ever yours. p.s.--would you advise me to tell murray that my book is not more _un_-orthodox than the subject makes inevitable. that i do not discuss the origin of man. that i do not bring in any discussion about genesis, &c. &c., and only give facts, and such conclusions from them as seem to me fair. or had i better say _nothing_ to murray, and assume that he cannot object to this much unorthodoxy, which in fact is not more than any geological treatise which runs slap counter to genesis. _enclosure._ an abstract of an essay on the origin of species and varieties through natural selection by charles darwin, m.a. fellow of the royal, geological, and linnean societies. london: &c. &c. &c. &c. . _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, march th [ ]. my dear lyell,--you have been uncommonly kind in all you have done. you not only have saved me much trouble and some anxiety, but have done all incomparably better than i could have done it. i am much pleased at all you say about murray. i will write either to-day or to-morrow to him, and will send shortly a large bundle of ms., but unfortunately i cannot for a week, as the first three chapters are in the copyists' hands. i am sorry about murray objecting to the term abstract, as i look at it as the only possible apology for _not_ giving references and facts in full, but i will defer to him and you. i am also sorry about the term "natural selection." i hope to retain it with explanation somewhat as thus:-- "through natural selection, or the preservation of favoured races." why i like the term is that it is constantly used in all works on breeding, and i am surprised that it is not familiar to murray; but i have so long studied such works that i have ceased to be a competent judge. i again most truly and cordially thank you for your really valuable assistance. yours most truly. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down, april nd [ ]. ... i wrote to him [mr. murray] and gave him the headings of the chapters, and told him he could not have the ms. for ten days or so; and this morning i received a letter, offering me handsome terms, and agreeing to publish without seeing the ms.! so he is eager enough; i think i should have been cautious, anyhow, but, owing to your letter, i told him most _explicitly_ that i accept his offer solely on condition that, after he has seen part or all the ms. he has full power of retracting. you will think me presumptuous, but i think my book will be popular to a certain extent (enough to ensure [against] heavy loss) amongst scientific and semi-scientific men; why i think so is, because i have found in conversation so great and surprising an interest amongst such men, and some -scientific [non-scientific] men on this subject, and all my chapters are not _nearly_ so dry and dull as that which you have read on geographical distribution. anyhow, murray ought to be the best judge, and if he chooses to publish it, i think i may wash my hands of all responsibility. i am sure my friends, _i.e._ lyell and you, have been _extraordinarily_ kind in troubling yourselves on the matter. i shall be delighted to see you the day before good friday; there would be one advantage for you in any other day--as i believe both my boys come home on that day--and it would be almost impossible that i could send the carriage for you. there will, i believe, be some relations in the house--but i hope you will not care for that, as we shall easily get as much talking as my _imbecile state_ allows. i shall deeply enjoy seeing you. ... i am tired, so no more. p.s.--please to send, well _tied up_ with strong string, my geographical ms. towards the latter half of next week--_i.e._ th or th--that i may send it with more to murray; and god help him if he tries to read it. ... i cannot help a little doubting whether lyell would take much pains to induce murray to publish my book; this was not done at my request, and it rather grates against my pride. i know that lyell has been _infinitely_ kind about my affair, but your dashed [_i.e._ underlined] "_induce_" gives the idea that lyell had unfairly urged murray. _c. d. to j. murray._ down, april th [ ]. my dear sir,--i send by this post, the title (with some remarks on a separate page), and the first three chapters. if you have patience to read all chapter i., i honestly think you will have a fair notion of the interest of the whole book. it may be conceit, but i believe the subject will interest the public, and i am sure that the views are original. if you think otherwise, i must repeat my request that you will freely reject my work; and though i shall be a little disappointed, i shall be in no way injured. if you choose to read chapters ii. and iii., you will have a dull and rather abstruse chapter, and a plain and interesting one, in my opinion. as soon as you have done with the ms., please to send it by _careful messenger, and plainly directed_, to miss g. tollett,[ ] , queen anne street, cavendish square. this lady, being an excellent judge of style, is going to look out for errors for me. you must take your own time, but the sooner you finish, the sooner she will, and the sooner i shall get to press, which i so earnestly wish. i presume you will wish to see chapter iv.,[ ] the key-stone of my arch, and chapters x. and xi., but please to inform me on this head. my dear sir, yours sincerely. on april th he wrote to hooker:-- "i write one line to say that i heard from murray yesterday, and he says he has read the first three chapters of [my] ms. (and this includes a very dull one), and he abides by his offer. hence he does not want more ms., and you can send my geographical chapter when it pleases you." part of the ms. seems to have been lost on its way back to my father. he wrote (april ) to sir j. d. hooker:-- "i have the old ms., otherwise the loss would have killed me! the worst is now that it will cause delay in getting to press, and far worst of all, i lose all advantage of your having looked over my chapter,[ ] except the third part returned. i am very sorry mrs. hooker took the trouble of copying the two pages." _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ [april or may, .] ... please do not say to any one that i thought my book on species would be fairly popular, and have a fairly remunerative sale (which was the height of my ambition), for if it prove a dead failure, it would make me the more ridiculous. i enclose a criticism, a taste of the future-- _rev. s. haughton's address to the geological society, dublin._[ ] "this speculation of messrs. darwin and wallace would not be worthy of notice were it not for the weight of authority of the names (_i.e._ lyell's and yours), under whose auspices it has been brought forward. if it means what it says, it is a truism; if it means anything more, it is contrary to fact." q. e. d. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down, may th [ ]. my dear hooker,--thank you for telling me about obscurity of style. but on my life no nigger with lash over him could have worked harder at clearness than i have done. but the very difficulty to me, of itself leads to the probability that i fail. yet one lady who has read all my ms. has found only two or three obscure sentences; but mrs. hooker having so found it, makes me tremble. i will do my best in proofs. you are a good man to take the trouble to write about it. with respect to our mutual muddle,[ ] i never for a moment thought we could not make our ideas clear to each other by talk, or if either of us had time to write _in extenso_. i imagine from some expressions (but if you ask me what, i could not answer) that you look at variability as some necessary contingency with organisms, and further that there is some necessary tendency in the variability to go on diverging in character or degree. _if you do_, i do not agree. "reversion" again (a form of inheritance), i look at as in no way directly connected with variation, though of course inheritance is of fundamental importance to us, for if a variation be not inherited, it is of no signification to us. it was on such points as these i _fancied_ that we perhaps started differently. i fear that my book will not deserve at all the pleasant things you say about it, and good lord, how i do long to have done with it! since the above was written, i have received and have been _much interested_ by a. gray. i am delighted at his note about my and wallace's paper. he will go round, for it is futile to give up very many species, and stop at an arbitrary line at others. it is what my father called unitarianism, "a featherbed to catch a falling christian."... _c. d. to j. murray._ down, june th [ ]. my dear sir,--the diagram will do very well, and i will send it shortly to mr. west to have a few trifling corrections made. i get on very slowly with proofs. i remember writing to you that i thought there would be not much correction. i honestly wrote what i thought, but was most grievously mistaken. i find the style incredibly bad, and most difficult to make clear and smooth. i am extremely sorry to say, on account of expense, and loss of time for me, that the corrections are very heavy, as heavy as possible. but from casual glances, i still hope that later chapters are not so badly written. how i could have written so badly is quite inconceivable, but i suppose it was owing to my whole attention being fixed on the general line of argument, and not on details. all i can say is, that i am very sorry. yours very sincerely. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down [sept.] th [ ]. my dear hooker,--i corrected the last proof yesterday, and i have now my revises, index, &c., which will take me near to the end of the month. so that the neck of my work, thank god, is broken. i write now to say that i am uneasy in my conscience about hesitating to look over your proofs,[ ] but i was feeling miserably unwell and shattered when i wrote. i do not suppose i could be of hardly any use, but if i could, pray send me any proofs. i should be (and fear i was) the most ungrateful man to hesitate to do anything for you after some fifteen or more years' help from you. as soon as ever i have fairly finished i shall be off to ilkley, or some other hydropathic establishment. but i shall be some time yet, as my proofs have been so utterly obscured with corrections, that i have to correct heavily on revises. murray proposes to publish the first week in november. oh, good heavens, the relief to my head and body to banish the whole subject from my mind! i hope you do not think me a brute about your proof-sheets. farewell, yours affectionately. the following letter is interesting as showing with what a very moderate amount of recognition he was satisfied,--and more than satisfied. sir charles lyell was president of the geological section at the meeting of the british association at aberdeen in . in his address he said:--"on this difficult and mysterious subject [evolution] a work will very shortly appear by mr. charles darwin, the result of twenty years of observations and experiments in zoology, botany, and geology, by which he has been led to the conclusion that those powers of nature which give rise to races and permanent varieties in animals and plants, are the same as those which in much longer periods produce species, and in a still longer series of ages give rise to differences of generic rank. he appears to me to have succeeded by his investigations and reasonings in throwing a flood of light on many classes of phenomena connected with the affinities, geographical distribution, and geological succession of organic beings, for which no other hypothesis has been able, or has even attempted to account." my father wrote:-- "you once gave me intense pleasure, or rather delight, by the way you were interested, in a manner i never expected, in my coral reef notions, and now you have again given me similar pleasure by the manner you have noticed my species work. nothing could be more satisfactory to me, and i thank you for myself, and even more for the subject's sake, as i know well that the sentence will make many fairly consider the subject, instead of ridiculing it." and again, a few days later:-- "i do thank you for your eulogy at aberdeen. i have been so wearied and exhausted of late that i have for months doubted whether i have not been throwing away time and labour for nothing. but now i care not what the universal world says; i have always found you right, and certainly on this occasion i am not going to doubt for the first time. whether you go far, or but a very short way with me and others who believe as i do, i am contented, for my work cannot be in vain. you would laugh if you knew how often i have read your paragraph, and it has acted like a little dram." _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, sept. th [ ]. my dear lyell,--i sent off this morning the last sheets, but without index, which is not in type. i look at you as my lord high chancellor in natural science, and therefore i request you, after you have finished, just to _re-run_ over the heads in the recapitulation-part of the last chapter. i shall be deeply anxious to hear what you decide (if you are able to decide) on the balance of the pros and contras given in my volume, and of such other pros and contras as may occur to you. i hope that you will think that i have given the difficulties fairly. i feel an entire conviction that if you are now staggered to any moderate extent, you will come more and more round, the longer you keep the subject at all before your mind. i remember well how many long years it was before i could look into the face of some of the difficulties and not feel quite abashed. i fairly struck my colours before the case of neuter insects.[ ] i suppose that i am a very slow thinker, for you would be surprised at the number of years it took me to see clearly what some of the problems were which had to be solved, such as the necessity of the principle of divergence of character, the extinction of intermediate varieties, on a continuous area, with graduated conditions; the double problem of sterile first crosses and sterile hybrids, &c. &c. looking back, i think it was more difficult to see what the problems were than to solve them, so far as i have succeeded in doing, and this seems to me rather curious. well, good or bad, my work, thank god, is over; and hard work, i can assure you, i have had, and much work which has never borne fruit. you can see, by the way i am scribbling, that i have an idle and rainy afternoon. i was not able to start for ilkley yesterday as i was too unwell; but i hope to get there on tuesday or wednesday. do, i beg you, when you have finished my book and thought a little over it, let me hear from you. never mind and pitch into me, if you think it requisite; some future day, in london possibly, you may give me a few criticisms in detail, that is, if you have scribbled any remarks on the margin, for the chance of a second edition. murray has printed copies, which seems to me rather too large an edition, but i hope he will not lose. i make as much fuss about my book as if it were my first. forgive me, and believe me, my dear lyell, yours most sincerely. the book was at last finished and printed, and he wrote to mr. murray:-- ilkley, yorkshire [ ]. my dear sir,--i have received your kind note and the copy; i am infinitely pleased and proud at the appearance of my child. i quite agree to all you propose about price. but you are really too generous about the, to me, scandalously heavy corrections. are you not acting unfairly towards yourself? would it not be better at least to share the £ s.? i shall be fully satisfied, for i had no business to send, though quite unintentionally and unexpectedly, such badly composed ms. to the printers. thank you for your kind offer to distribute the copies to my friends and assisters as soon as possible. do not trouble yourself much about the foreigners, as messrs. williams and norgate have most kindly offered to do their best, and they are accustomed to send to all parts of the world. i will pay for my copies whenever you like. i am so glad that you were so good as to undertake the publication of my book. my dear sir, yours very sincerely, charles darwin. the further history of the book is given in the next chapter. footnotes: [ ] _annals and mag. of nat. hist._, . [ ] after the death, from scarlet fever, of his infant child. [ ] "abstract" is here used in the sense of "extract;" in this sense also it occurs in the _linnean journal_, where the sources of my father's paper are described. [ ] "on the tendency of species to form varieties and on the perpetuation of varieties and species by natural means of selection."--_linnean society's journal_, iii. p. . [ ] this passage was published as a footnote in a review of the _life and letters of charles darwin_ which appeared in the _quarterly review_, jan. . in the new edition ( ) of _natural selection and tropical nature_ (p. ), mr. wallace has given the facts above narrated. there is a slight and quite unimportant discrepancy between the two accounts, viz. that in the narrative of mr. wallace speaks of the "cold fit" instead of the "hot fit" of his ague attack. [ ] that is to say, he would help to pay for the printing, if it should prove too long for the linnean society. [ ] w. h. harvey, born , died : a well-known botanist. [ ] see a discussion on the date of the earliest sketch of the _origin_ in the _life and letters_, ii. p. . [ ] _the origin of species._ [ ] miss tollett was an old friend of the family. [ ] in the first edition chapter iv. was on natural selection. [ ] the following characteristic acknowledgment of the help he received occurs in a letter to hooker, of about this time: "i never did pick any one's pocket, but whilst writing my present chapter i keep on feeling (even when differing most from you) just as if i were stealing from you, so much do i owe to your writings and conversation, so much more than mere acknowledgments show." [ ] feb. th, . [ ] "when i go over the chapter i will see what i can do, but i hardly know how i am obscure, and i think we are somehow in a mutual muddle with respect to each other, from starting from some fundamentally different notions."--letter of may th, . [ ] of hooker's _flora of australia_. [ ] _origin of species_, th edition, vol. ii. p. . "but with the working ant we have an insect differing greatly from its parents, yet absolutely sterile, so that it could never have transmitted successively acquired modifications of structure or instinct to its progeny. it may well be asked how is it possible to reconcile this case with the theory of natural selection?" chapter xii. the publication of the 'origin of species.' "remember that your verdict will probably have more influence than my book in deciding whether such views as i hold will be admitted or rejected at present; in the future i cannot doubt about their admittance, and our posterity will marvel as much about the current belief as we do about fossil shells having been thought to have been created as we now see them."--from a letter to lyell, sept. . october rd, , to december st, . under the date of october st, , in my father's diary occurs the entry:--"finished proofs (thirteen months and ten days) of abstract on _origin of species_; copies printed. the first edition was published on november th, and all copies sold first day." in october he was, as we have seen in the last chapter, at ilkley, near leeds: there he remained with his family until december, and on the th of that month he was again at down. the only other entry in the diary for this year is as follows:--"during end of november and beginning of december, employed in correcting for second edition of copies; multitude of letters." the first and a few of the subsequent letters refer to proof-sheets, and to early copies of the origin which were sent to friends before the book was published. _c. lyell to c. darwin._ october rd, . my dear darwin,--i have just finished your volume, and right glad i am that i did my best with hooker to persuade you to publish it without waiting for a time which probably could never have arrived, though you lived till the age of a hundred, when you had prepared all your facts on which you ground so many grand generalizations. it is a splendid case of close reasoning, and long substantial argument throughout so many pages; the condensation immense, too great perhaps for the uninitiated, but an effective and important preliminary statement, which will admit, even before your detailed proofs appear, of some occasional useful exemplification, such as your pigeons and cirripedes, of which you make such excellent use. i mean that, when, as i fully expect, a new edition is soon called for, you may here and there insert an actual case to relieve the vast number of abstract propositions. so far as i am concerned, i am so well prepared to take your statements of facts for granted, that i do not think the "pièces justificatives" when published will make much difference, and i have long seen most clearly that if any concession is made, all that you claim in your concluding pages will follow. it is this which has made me so long hesitate, always feeling that the case of man and his races, and of other animals, and that of plants is one and the same, and that if a "vera causa" be admitted for one, instead of a purely unknown and imaginary one, such as the word "creation," all the consequences must follow. i fear i have not time to-day, as i am just leaving this place to indulge in a variety of comments, and to say how much i was delighted with oceanic islands--rudimentary organs--embryology--the genealogical key to the natural system, geographical distribution, and if i went on i should be copying the heads of all your chapters. but i will say a word of the recapitulation, in case some slight alteration, or, at least, omission of a word or two be still possible in that. in the first place, at p. , it cannot surely be said that the most eminent naturalists have rejected the view of the mutability of species? you do not mean to ignore g. st. hilaire and lamarck. as to the latter, you may say, that in regard to animals you substitute natural selection for volition to a certain considerable extent, but in his theory of the changes of plants he could not introduce volition; he may, no doubt, have laid an undue comparative stress on changes in physical conditions, and too little on those of contending organisms. he at least was for the universal mutability of species and for a genealogical link between the first and the present. the men of his school also appealed to domesticated varieties. (do you mean _living_ naturalists?)[ ] the first page of this most important summary gives the adversary an advantage, by putting forth so abruptly and crudely such a startling objection as the formation of "the eye,"[ ] not by means analogous to man's reason, or rather by some power immeasurably superior to human reason, but by superinduced variation like those of which a cattle-breeder avails himself. pages would be required thus to state an objection and remove it. it would be better, as you wish to persuade, to say nothing. leave out several sentences, and in a future edition bring it out more fully. ... but these are small matters, mere spots on the sun. your comparison of the letters retained in words, when no longer wanted for the sound, to rudimentary organs is excellent, as both are truly genealogical.... you enclose your sheets in old ms., so the post office very properly charge them, as letters, _d._ extra. i wish all their fines on ms. were worth as much. i paid _s._ _d._ for such wash the other day from paris, from a man who can prove deluges in the valley of seine. with my hearty congratulations to you on your grand work, believe me, ever very affectionately yours. _c. d. to l. agassiz._[ ] down, november th [ ]. my dear sir,--i have ventured to send you a copy of my book (as yet only an abstract) on the _origin of species_. as the conclusions at which i have arrived on several points differ so widely from yours, i have thought (should you at any time read my volume) that you might think that i had sent it to you out of a spirit of defiance or bravado; but i assure you that i act under a wholly different frame of mind. i hope that you will at least give me credit, however erroneous you may think my conclusions, for having earnestly endeavoured to arrive at the truth. with sincere respect, i beg leave to remain, yours very faithfully. he sent copies of the _origin_, accompanied by letters similar to the last, to m. de candolle, dr. asa gray, falconer and mr. jenyns (blomefield). to henslow he wrote (nov. th, ):-- "i have told murray to send a copy of my book on species to you, my dear old master in natural history; i fear, however, that you will not approve of your pupil in this case. the book in its present state does not show the amount of labour which i have bestowed on the subject. "if you have time to read it carefully, and would take the trouble to point out what parts seem weakest to you and what best, it would be a most material aid to me in writing my bigger book, which i hope to commence in a few months. you know also how highly i value your judgment. but i am not so unreasonable as to wish or expect you to write detailed and lengthy criticisms, but merely a few general remarks, pointing out the weakest parts. "if you are _in ever so slight a degree_ staggered (which i hardly expect) on the immutability of species, then i am convinced with further reflection you will become more and more staggered, for this has been the process through which my mind has gone." _c. d. to a. r. wallace._ ilkley, november th, . my dear sir,--i have told murray to send you by post (if possible) a copy of my book, and i hope that you will receive it at nearly the same time with this note. (n.b. i have got a bad finger, which makes me write extra badly.) if you are so inclined, i should very much like to hear your general impression of the book, as you have thought so profoundly on the subject, and in so nearly the same channel with myself. i hope there will be some little new to you, but i fear not much. remember it is only an abstract, and very much condensed. god knows what the public will think. no one has read it, except lyell, with whom i have had much correspondence. hooker thinks him a complete convert, but he does not seem so in his letters to me; but is evidently deeply interested in the subject. i do not think your share in the theory will be overlooked by the real judges, as hooker, lyell, asa gray, &c. i have heard from mr. sclater that your paper on the malay archipelago has been read at the linnean society, and that he was _extremely_ much interested by it. i have not seen one naturalist for six or nine months, owing to the state of my health, and therefore i really have no news to tell you. i am writing this at ilkley wells, where i have been with my family for the last six weeks, and shall stay for some few weeks longer. as yet i have profited very little. god knows when i shall have strength for my bigger book. i sincerely hope that you keep your health; i suppose that you will be thinking of returning[ ] soon with your magnificent collections, and still grander mental materials. you will be puzzled how to publish. the royal society fund will be worth your consideration. with every good wish, pray believe me, yours very sincerely. p.s.--i think that i told you before that hooker is a complete convert. if i can convert huxley i shall be content. _c. darwin to w. b. carpenter._ november th [ ]. ... if, after reading my book, you are able to come to a conclusion in any degree definite, will you think me very unreasonable in asking you to let me hear from you? i do not ask for a long discussion, but merely for a brief idea of your general impression. from your widely extended knowledge, habit of investigating the truth, and abilities, i should value your opinion in the very highest rank. though i, of course, believe in the truth of my own doctrine, i suspect that no belief is vivid until shared by others. as yet i know only one believer, but i look at him as of the greatest authority, viz. hooker. when i think of the many cases of men who have studied one subject for years, and have persuaded themselves of the truth of the foolishest doctrines, i feel sometimes a little frightened, whether i may not be one of these monomaniacs. again pray excuse this, i fear, unreasonable request. a short note would suffice, and i could bear a hostile verdict, and shall have to bear many a one. yours very sincerely. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ ilkley, yorkshire. [november, .] my dear hooker,--i have just read a review on my book in the _athenæum_[ ] and it excites my curiosity much who is the author. if you should hear who writes in the _athenæum_ i wish you would tell me. it seems to me well done, but the reviewer gives no new objections, and, being hostile, passes over every single argument in favour of the doctrine.... i fear, from the tone of the review, that i have written in a conceited and cocksure style,[ ] which shames me a little. there is another review of which i should like to know the author, viz. of h. c. watson in the _gardeners' chronicle_.[ ] some of the remarks are like yours, and he does deserve punishment; but surely the review is too severe. don't you think so?... i have heard from carpenter, who, i think, is likely to be a convert. also from quatrefages, who is inclined to go a long way with us. he says that he exhibited in his lecture a diagram closely like mine! _j. d. hooker to c. darwin._ monday [nov. , ]. my dear darwin,--i am a sinner not to have written you ere this, if only to thank you for your glorious book--what a mass of close reasoning on curious facts and fresh phenomena--it is capitally written, and will be very successful. i say this on the strength of two or three plunges into as many chapters, for i have not yet attempted to read it. lyell, with whom we are staying, is perfectly enchanted, and is absolutely gloating over it. i must accept your compliment to me, and acknowledgment of supposed assistance[ ] from me, as the warm tribute of affection from an honest (though deluded) man, and furthermore accept it as very pleasing to my vanity; but, my dear fellow, neither my name nor my judgment nor my assistance deserved any such compliments, and if i am dishonest enough to be pleased with what i don't deserve, it must just pass. how different the _book_ reads from the ms. i see i shall have much to talk over with you. those lazy printers have not finished my luckless essay: which, beside your book, will look like a ragged handkerchief beside a royal standard.... _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ [november, .] my dear hooker,--i cannot help it, i must thank you for your affectionate and most kind note. my head will be turned. by jove, i must try and get a bit modest. i was a little chagrined by the review.[ ] i hope it was _not_ ----. as advocate, he might think himself justified in giving the argument only on one side. but the manner in which he drags in immortality, and sets the priests at me, and leaves me to their mercies, is base. he would, on no account, burn me, but he will get the wood ready, and tell the black beasts how to catch me.... it would be unspeakably grand if huxley were to lecture on the subject, but i can see this is a mere chance; faraday might think it too unorthodox. ... i had a letter from [huxley] with such tremendous praise of my book, that modesty (as i am trying to cultivate that difficult herb) prevents me sending it to you, which i should have liked to have done, as he is very modest about himself. you have cockered me up to that extent, that i now feel i can face a score of savage reviewers. i suppose you are still with the lyells. give my kindest remembrance to them. i triumph to hear that he continues to approve. believe me, your would-be modest friend. the following passage from a letter to lyell shows how strongly he felt on the subject of lyell's adherence:--"i rejoice profoundly that you intend admitting the doctrine of modification in your new edition;[ ] nothing, i am convinced, could be more important for its success. i honour you most sincerely. to have maintained in the position of a master, one side of a question for thirty years, and then deliberately give it up, is a fact to which i much doubt whether the records of science offer a parallel. for myself, also i rejoice profoundly; for, thinking of so many cases of men pursuing an illusion for years, often and often a cold shudder has run through me, and i have asked myself whether i may not have devoted my life to a phantasy. now i look at it as morally impossible that investigators of truth, like you and hooker, can be wholly wrong, and therefore i rest in peace." _t. h. huxley[ ] to c. darwin._ jermyn street, w. november rd, . my dear darwin,--i finished your book yesterday, a lucky examination having furnished me with a few hours of continuous leisure. since i read von bär's[ ] essays, nine years ago, no work on natural history science i have met with has made so great an impression upon me, and i do most heartily thank you for the great store of new views you have given me. nothing, i think, can be better than the tone of the book, it impresses those who know nothing about the subject. as for your doctrine, i am prepared to go to the stake, if requisite, in support of chapter ix.,[ ] and most parts of chapters x., xi., xii.; and chapter xiii. contains much that is most admirable, but on one or two points i enter a _caveat_ until i can see further into all sides of the question. as to the first four chapters, i agree thoroughly and fully with all the principles laid down in them. i think you have demonstrated a true cause for the production of species, and have thrown the _onus probandi_, that species did not arise in the way you suppose, on your adversaries. but i feel that i have not yet by any means fully realized the bearings of those most remarkable and original chapters iii., iv. and v., and i will write no more about them just now. the only objections that have occurred to me are, st that you have loaded yourself with an unnecessary difficulty in adopting _natura non facit saltum_ so unreservedly.... and nd, it is not clear to me why, if continual physical conditions are of so little moment as you suppose, variation should occur at all. however, i must read the book two or three times more before i presume to begin picking holes. i trust you will not allow yourself to be in any way disgusted or annoyed by the considerable abuse and misrepresentation which, unless i greatly mistake, is in store for you. depend upon it you have earned the lasting gratitude of all thoughtful men. and as to the curs which will bark and yelp, you must recollect that some of your friends, at any rate, are endowed with an amount of combativeness which (though you have often and justly rebuked it) may stand you in good stead. i am sharpening up my claws and beak in readiness. looking back over my letter, it really expresses so feebly all i think about you and your noble book that i am half ashamed of it; but you will understand that, like the parrot in the story, "i think the more." ever yours faithfully. _c. d. to t. h. huxley._ ilkley, nov. [ ]. my dear huxley,--your letter has been forwarded to me from down. like a good catholic who has received extreme unction, i can now sing "nunc dimittis." i should have been more than contented with one quarter of what you have said. exactly fifteen months ago, when i put pen to paper for this volume, i had awful misgivings; and thought perhaps i had deluded myself, like so many have done, and i then fixed in my mind three judges, on whose decision i determined mentally to abide. the judges were lyell, hooker, and yourself. it was this which made me so excessively anxious for your verdict. i am now contented, and can sing my "nunc dimittis." what a joke it would be if i pat you on the back when you attack some immovable creationists! you have most cleverly hit on one point, which has greatly troubled me; if, as i must think, external conditions produce little _direct_ effect, what the devil determines each particular variation? what makes a tuft of feathers come on a cock's head, or moss on a moss-rose? i shall much like to talk over this with you.... my dear huxley, i thank you cordially for your letter. yours very sincerely. _erasmus darwin[ ] to c. darwin._ november rd [ ]. dear charles,--i am so much weaker in the head, that i hardly know if i can write, but at all events i will jot down a few things that the dr.[ ] has said. he has not read much above half, so, as he says, he can give no definite conclusion, and keeps stating that he is not tied down to either view, and that he has always left an escape by the way he has spoken of varieties. i happened to speak of the eye before he had read that part, and it took away his breath--utterly impossible--structure--function, &c., &c., &c., but when he had read it he hummed and hawed, and perhaps it was partly conceivable, and then he fell back on the bones of the ear, which were beyond all probability or conceivability. he mentioned a slight blot, which i also observed, that in speaking of the slave-ants carrying one another, you change the species without giving notice first, and it makes one turn back.... ... for myself i really think it is the most interesting book i ever read, and can only compare it to the first knowledge of chemistry, getting into a new world or rather behind the scenes. to me the geographical distribution, i mean the relation of islands to continents is the most convincing of the proofs, and the relation of the oldest forms to the existing species. i dare say i don't feel enough the absence of varieties, but then i don't in the least know if everything now living were fossilized whether the palæontologists could distinguish them. in fact the _a priori_ reasoning is so entirely satisfactory to me that if the facts won't fit in, why so much the worse for the facts is my feeling. my ague has left me in such a state of torpidity that i wish i had gone through the process of natural selection. yours affectionately. _a. sedgwick[ ] to c. darwin._ [november .] my dear darwin,--i write to thank you for your work on the _origin of species_. it came, i think, in the latter part of last week; but it may have come a few days sooner, and been overlooked among my book-parcels, which often remain unopened when i am lazy or busy with any work before me. so soon as i opened it i began to read it, and i finished it, after many interruptions, on tuesday. yesterday i was employed-- st, in preparing for my lecture; ndly, in attending a meeting of my brother fellows to discuss the final propositions of the parliamentary commissioners; rdly, in lecturing; thly, in hearing the conclusion of the discussion and the college reply, whereby, in conformity with my own wishes, we accepted the scheme of the commissioners; thly, in dining with an old friend at clare college; thly, in adjourning to the weekly meeting of the ray club, from which i returned at p.m., dog-tired, and hardly able to climb my staircase. lastly, in looking through the _times_ to see what was going on in the busy world. i do not state this to fill space (though i believe that nature does abhor a vacuum), but to prove that my reply and my thanks are sent to you by the earliest leisure i have, though that is but a very contracted opportunity. if i did not think you a good-tempered and truth-loving man, i should not tell you that (spite of the great knowledge, store of facts, capital views of the correlation of the various parts of organic nature, admirable hints about the diffusion, through wide regions, of many related organic beings, &c. &c.) i have read your book with more pain than pleasure. parts of it i admired greatly, parts i laughed at till my sides were almost sore; other parts i read with absolute sorrow, because i think them utterly false and grievously mischievous. you have _deserted_--after a start in that tram-road of all solid physical truth--the true method of induction, and started us in machinery as wild, i think, as bishop wilkins's locomotive that was to sail with us to the moon. many of your wide conclusions are based upon assumptions which can neither be proved nor disproved, why then express them in the language and arrangement of philosophical induction? as to your grand principle--_natural selection_--what is it but a secondary consequence of supposed, or known, primary facts? development is a better word, because more close to the cause of the fact? for you do not deny causation. i call (in the abstract) causation the will of god; and i can prove that he acts for the good of his creatures. he also acts by laws which we can study and comprehend. acting by law, and under what is called final causes, comprehends, i think, your whole principle. you write of "natural selection" as if it were done consciously by the selecting agent. 'tis but a consequence of the pre-supposed development, and the subsequent battle for life. this view of nature you have stated admirably, though admitted by all naturalists and denied by no one of common-sense. we all admit development as a fact of history: but how came it about? here, in language, and still more in logic, we are point-blank at issue. there is a moral or metaphysical part of nature as well as a physical. a man who denies this is deep in the mire of folly. 'tis the crown and glory of organic science that it _does_ through _final cause_, link material and moral; and yet _does not_ allow us to mingle them in our first conception of laws, and our classification of such laws, whether we consider one side of nature or the other. you have ignored this link; and, if i do not mistake your meaning, you have done your best in one or two pregnant cases to break it. were it possible (which, thank god, it is not) to break it, humanity, in my mind, would suffer a damage that might brutalize it, and sink the human race into a lower grade of degradation than any into which it has fallen since its written records tell us of its history. take the case of the bee-cells. if your development produced the successive modification of the bee and its cells (which no mortal can prove), final cause would stand good as the directing cause under which the successive generations acted and gradually improved. passages in your book, like that to which i have alluded (and there are others almost as bad), greatly shocked my moral taste. i think, in speculating on organic descent, you _over_-state the evidence of geology; and that you _under_-state it while you are talking of the broken links of your natural pedigree: but my paper is nearly done, and i must go to my lecture-room. lastly, then, i greatly dislike the concluding chapter--not as a summary, for in that light it appears good--but i dislike it from the tone of triumphant confidence in which you appeal to the rising generation (in a tone i condemned in the author of the _vestiges_) and prophesy of things not yet in the womb of time, nor (if we are to trust the accumulated experience of human sense and the inferences of its logic) ever likely to be found anywhere but in the fertile womb of man's imagination. and now to say a word about a son of a monkey and an old friend of yours: i am better, far better, than i was last year. i have been lecturing three days a week (formerly i gave six a week) without much fatigue, but i find by the loss of activity and memory, and of all productive powers, that my bodily frame is sinking slowly towards the earth. but i have visions of the future. they are as much a part of myself as my stomach and my heart, and these visions are to have their anti-type in solid fruition of what is best and greatest. but on one condition only--that i humbly accept god's revelation of himself both in his works and in his word, and do my best to act in conformity with that knowledge which he only can give me, and he only can sustain me in doing. if you and i do all this, we shall meet in heaven. i have written in a hurry, and in a spirit of brotherly love, therefore forgive any sentence you happen to dislike; and believe me, spite of any disagreement in some points of the deepest moral interest, your true-hearted old friend, a. sedgwick. the following extract from a note to lyell (nov. ) gives an idea of the conditions under which the second edition was prepared: "this morning i heard from murray that he sold the whole edition[ ] the first day to the trade. he wants a new edition instantly, and this utterly confounds me. now, under water-cure, with all nervous power directed to the skin, i cannot possibly do head-work, and i must make only actually necessary corrections. but i will, as far as i can without my manuscript, take advantage of your suggestions: i must not attempt much. will you send me one line to say whether i must strike out about the secondary whale,[ ] it goes to my heart. about the rattle-snake, look to my journal, under trigonocephalus, and you will see the probable origin of the rattle, and generally in transitions it is the _premier pas qui coûte_." here follows a hint of the coming storm (from a letter to lyell, dec. ):-- "do what i could, i fear i shall be greatly abused. in answer to sedgwick's remark that my book would be 'mischievous,' i asked him whether truth can be known except by being victorious over all attacks. but it is no use. h. c. watson tells me that one zoologist says he will read my book, 'but i will never believe it.' what a spirit to read any book in! crawford[ ] writes to me that his notice will be hostile, but that 'he will not calumniate the author.' he says he has read my book, 'at least such parts as he could understand.'[ ] he sent me some notes and suggestions (quite unimportant), and they show me that i have unavoidably done harm to the subject, by publishing an abstract.... i have had several notes from ----, very civil and less decided. says he shall not pronounce against me without much reflection, _perhaps will say nothing_ on the subject. x. says he will go to that part of hell, which dante tells us is appointed for those who are neither on god's side nor on that of the devil." but his friends were preparing to fight for him. huxley gave, in _macmillan's magazine_ for december, an analysis of the _origin_, together with the substance of his royal institution lecture, delivered before the publication of the book. carpenter was preparing an essay for the _national review_, and negotiating for a notice in the _edinburgh_ free from any taint of _odium theologicum_. _c. d. to c. lyell._ down [december th, ]. ... i had very long interviews with ----, which perhaps you would like to hear about.... i infer from several expressions that, at bottom, he goes an immense way with us.... he said to the effect that my explanation was the best ever published of the manner of formation of species. i said i was very glad to hear it. he took me up short: "you must not at all suppose that i agree with you in all respects." i said i thought it no more likely that i should be right in nearly all points, than that i should toss up a penny and get heads twenty times running. i asked him what he thought the weakest part. he said he had no particular objection to any part. he added:-- "if i must criticise, i should say, we do not want to know what darwin believes and is convinced of, but what he can prove." i agreed most fully and truly that i have probably greatly sinned in this line, and defended my general line of argument of inventing a theory and seeing how many classes of facts the theory would explain. i added that i would endeavour to modify the "believes" and "convinceds." he took me up short: "you will then spoil your book, the charm of it is that it is darwin himself." he added another objection, that the book was too _teres atque rotundus_--that it explained everything, and that it was improbable in the highest degree that i should succeed in this. i quite agree with this rather queer objection, and it comes to this that my book must be very bad or very good.... i have heard, by a roundabout channel, that herschel says my book "is the law of higgledy-piggledy." what this exactly means i do not know, but it is evidently very contemptuous. if true this is a great blow and discouragement. _j. d. hooker to c. darwin_. kew [ ]. dear darwin,--you have, i know, been drenched with letters since the publication of your book, and i have hence forborne to add my mite.[ ] i hope now that you are well through edition ii., and i have heard that you were flourishing in london. i have not yet got half-through the book, not from want of will, but of time--for it is the very hardest book to read, to full profits, that i ever tried--it is so cram-full of matter and reasoning.[ ] i am all the more glad that you have published in this form, for the three volumes, unprefaced by this, would have choked any naturalist of the nineteenth century, and certainly have softened my brain in the operation of assimilating their contents. i am perfectly tired of marvelling at the wonderful amount of facts you have brought to bear, and your skill in marshalling them and throwing them on the enemy; it is also extremely clear as far as i have gone, but very hard to fully appreciate. somehow it reads very different from the ms., and i often fancy that i must have been very stupid not to have more fully followed it in ms. lyell told me of his criticisms. i did not appreciate them all, and there are many little matters i hope one day to talk over with you. i saw a highly flattering notice in the _english churchman_, short and not at all entering into discussion, but praising you and your book, and talking patronizingly of the doctrine!... bentham and henslow will still shake their heads, i fancy.... ever yours affectionately. _c. d. to t. h. huxley._ down, dec. th [ ]. my dear huxley,--yesterday evening, when i read the _times_ of a previous day, i was amazed to find a splendid essay and review of me. who can the author be? i am intensely curious. it included an eulogium of me which quite touched me, though i am not vain enough to think it all deserved. the author is a literary man, and german scholar. he has read my book very attentively; but, what is very remarkable, it seems that he is a profound naturalist. he knows my barnacle-book, and appreciates it too highly. lastly, he writes and thinks with quite uncommon force and clearness; and what is even still rarer, his writing is seasoned with most pleasant wit. we all laughed heartily over some of the sentences.... who can it be? certainly i should have said that there was only one man in england who could have written this essay, and that _you_ were the man. but i suppose i am wrong, and that there is some hidden genius of great calibre. for how could you influence jupiter olympus and make him give three and a half columns to pure science? the old fogies will think the world will come to an end. well, whoever the man is, he has done great service to the cause, far more than by a dozen reviews in common periodicals. the grand way he soars above common religious prejudices, and the admission of such views into the _times_, i look at as of the highest importance, quite independently of the mere question of species. if you should happen to be _acquainted_ with the author, for heaven-sake tell me who he is? my dear huxley, yours most sincerely. there can be no doubt that this powerful essay, appearing in the leading daily journal, must have had a strong influence on the reading public. mr. huxley allows me to quote from a letter an account of the happy chance that threw into his hands the opportunity of writing it:-- "the _origin_ was sent to mr. lucas, one of the staff of the _times_ writers at that day, in what i suppose was the ordinary course of business. mr. lucas, though an excellent journalist, and, at a later period, editor of _once a week_, was as innocent of any knowledge of science as a babe, and bewailed himself to an acquaintance on having to deal with such a book. whereupon he was recommended to ask me to get him out of his difficulty, and he applied to me accordingly, explaining, however, that it would be necessary for him formally to adopt anything i might be disposed to write, by prefacing it with two or three paragraphs of his own. "i was too anxious to seize upon the opportunity thus offered of giving the book a fair chance with the multitudinous readers of the _times_ to make any difficulty about conditions; and being then very full of the subject, i wrote the article faster, i think, than i ever wrote anything in my life, and sent it to mr. lucas, who duly prefixed his opening sentences. "when the article appeared, there was much speculation as to its authorship. the secret leaked out in time, as all secrets will, but not by my aid; and then i used to derive a good deal of innocent amusement from the vehement assertions of some of my more acute friends, that they knew it was mine from the first paragraph! "as the _times_ some years since referred to my connection with the review, i suppose there will be no breach of confidence in the publication of this little history, if you think it worth the space it will occupy." footnotes: [ ] in his next letter to lyell my father writes: "the omission of 'living' before 'eminent' naturalists was a dreadful blunder." in the first edition, as published, the blunder is corrected by the addition of the word "living." [ ] darwin wrote to asa gray in :--"the eye to this day gives me a cold shudder, but when i think of the fine known gradations, my reason tells me i ought to conquer the cold shudder." [ ] jean louis rodolphe agassiz, born at mortier, on the lake of morat in switzerland, on may th, . he emigrated to america in , where he spent the rest of his life, and died dec. th, . his _life_, written by his widow, was published in . the following extract from a letter to agassiz ( ) is worth giving, as showing how my father regarded him, and it may be added that his cordial feeling towards the great american naturalist remained strong to the end of his life:-- "i have seldom been more deeply gratified than by receiving your most kind present of _lake superior_. i had heard of it, and had much wished to read it, but i confess that it was the very great honour of having in my possession a work with your autograph as a presentation copy, that has given me such lively and sincere pleasure. i cordially thank you for it. i have begun to read it with uncommon interest, which i see will increase as i go on." [ ] mr. wallace was in the malay archipelago. [ ] nov. , . [ ] the reviewer speaks of the author's "evident self-satisfaction," and of his disposing of all difficulties "more or less confidently." [ ] a review of the fourth volume of watson's _cybele britannica_, _gard. chron._, , p. . [ ] see the _origin_, first edition, p. , where sir j. d. hooker's help is conspicuously acknowledged. [ ] this refers to the review in the _athenæum_, nov. th, , where the reviewer, after touching on the theological aspects of the book, leaves the author to "the mercies of the divinity hall, the college, the lecture room, and the museum." [ ] it appears from sir charles lyell's published letters that he intended to admit the doctrine of evolution in a new edition of the _manual_, but this was not published till . he was, however, at work on the _antiquity of man_ in , and had already determined to discuss the origin at the end of the book. [ ] in a letter written in october, my father had said, "i am intensely curious to hear huxley's opinion of my book. i fear my long discussion on classification will disgust him, for it is much opposed to what he once said to me." he may have remembered the following incident told by mr. huxley in his chapter of the _life and letters_, ii. p. :--"i remember, in the course of my first interview with mr. darwin, expressing my belief in the sharpness of the lines of demarcation between natural groups and in the absence of transitional forms, with all the confidence of youth and imperfect knowledge. i was not aware, at that time, that he had then been many years brooding over the species question; and the humorous smile which accompanied his gentle answer, that such was not altogether his view, long haunted and puzzled me." [ ] karl ernst von baer, b. , d. at dorpat --one of the most distinguished biologists of the century. he practically founded the modern science of embryology. [ ] in the first edition of the _origin_, chap. ix. is on the 'imperfection of the geological record;' chap. x., on the 'geological succession of organic beings;' chaps. xi. and xii., on 'geographical distribution;' chap. xiii., on 'mutual affinities of organic beings; morphology; embryology; rudimentary organs.' [ ] his brother. [ ] dr., afterwards sir henry, holland. [ ] rev. adam sedgwick, woodwardian professor of geology in the university of cambridge. born , died . [ ] first edition, copies. [ ] the passage was omitted in the second edition. [ ] john crawford, orientalist, ethnologist, &c., b. , d. . the review appeared in the _examiner_, and, though hostile, is free from bigotry, as the following citation will show: "we cannot help saying that piety must be fastidious indeed that objects to a theory the tendency of which is to show that all organic beings, man included, are in a perpetual progress of amelioration and that is expounded in the reverential language which we have quoted." [ ] a letter of dec. , gives a good example of the manner in which some naturalists received and understood it. "old j. e. gray of the british museum attacked me in fine style: 'you have just reproduced lamarck's doctrine, and nothing else, and here lyell and others have been attacking him for twenty years, and because _you_ (with a sneer and laugh) say the very same thing, they are all coming round; it is the most ridiculous inconsistency, &c. &c.'" [ ] see, however, p. . [ ] mr. huxley has made a similar remark:--"long occupation with the work has led the present writer to believe that the _origin of species_ is one of the hardest of books to master."--_obituary notice, proc. r. soc._ no. , p. xvii. chapter xiii. the 'origin of species'--reviews and criticisms--adhesions and attacks. "you are the greatest revolutionist in natural history of this century, if not of all centuries."--h. c. watson to c. darwin, nov. , . . the second edition, copies, of the _origin_ was published on january th; on the th, he wrote with regard to it, to lyell:-- _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, january th [ ]. ... it is perfectly true that i owe nearly all the corrections to you, and several verbal ones to you and others; i am heartily glad you approve of them, as yet only two things have annoyed me; those confounded millions[ ] of years (not that i think it is probably wrong), and my not having (by inadvertence) mentioned wallace towards the close of the book in the summary, not that any one has noticed this to me. i have now put in wallace's name at p. in a conspicuous place. i shall be truly glad to read carefully any ms. on man, and give my opinion. you used to caution me to be cautious about man. i suspect i shall have to return the caution a hundred fold! yours will, no doubt, be a grand discussion; but it will horrify the world at first more than my whole volume; although by the sentence (p. , new edition[ ]) i show that i believe man is in the same predicament with other animals. it is in fact impossible to doubt it. i have thought (only vaguely) on man. with respect to the races, one of my best chances of truth has broken down from the impossibility of getting facts. i have one good speculative line, but a man must have entire credence in natural selection before he will even listen to it. psychologically, i have done scarcely anything. unless, indeed, expression of countenance can be included, and on that subject i have collected a good many facts, and speculated, but i do not suppose i shall ever publish, but it is an uncommonly curious subject. a few days later he wrote again to the same correspondent: "what a grand immense benefit you conferred on me by getting murray to publish my book. i never till to-day realised that it was getting widely distributed; for in a letter from a lady to-day to e., she says she heard a man enquiring for it at the _railway station!!!_ at waterloo bridge; and the bookseller said that he had none till the new edition was out. the bookseller said he had not read it, but had heard it was a very remarkable book!!!" _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down, th [january, ]. ... i heard from lyell this morning, and he tells me a piece of news. you are a good-for-nothing man; here you are slaving yourself to death with hardly a minute to spare, and you must write a review on my book! i thought it[ ] a very good one, and was so much struck with it, that i sent it to lyell. but i assumed, as a matter of course, that it was lindley's. now that i know it is yours, i have re-read it, and my kind and good friend, it has warmed my heart with all the honourable and noble things you say of me and it. i was a good deal surprised at lindley hitting on some of the remarks, but i never dreamed of you. i admired it chiefly as so well adapted to tell on the readers of the _gardeners' chronicle_; but now i admire it in another spirit. farewell, with hearty thanks.... _asa gray to j. d. hooker._ cambridge, mass., january th, . my dear hooker,--your last letter, which reached me just before christmas, has got mislaid during the upturnings in my study which take place at that season, and has not yet been discovered. i should be very sorry to lose it, for there were in it some botanical mems. which i had not secured.... the principal part of your letter was high laudation of darwin's book. well, the book has reached me, and i finished its careful perusal four days ago; and i freely say that your laudation is not out of place. it is done in a _masterly manner_. it might well have taken twenty years to produce it. it is crammed full of most interesting matter--thoroughly digested--well expressed--close, cogent, and taken as a system it makes out a better case than i had supposed possible.... agassiz, when i saw him last, had read but a part of it. he says it is _poor--very poor_!! (entre nous). the fact [is] he is very much annoyed by it, ... and i do not wonder at it. to bring all _ideal_ systems within the domain of science, and give good physical or natural explanations of all his capital points, is as bad as to have forbes take the glacier materials ... and give scientific explanation of all the phenomena. tell darwin all this. i will write to him when i get a chance. as i have promised, he and you shall have fair-play here.... i must myself write a review[ ] of darwin's book for _silliman's journal_ (the more so that i suspect agassiz means to come out upon it) for the next (march) number, and i am now setting about it (when i ought to be every moment working the expl[oring] expedition compositæ, which i know far more about). and really it is no easy job as you may well imagine. i doubt if i shall please you altogether. i know i shall not please agassiz at all. i hear another reprint is in the press, and the book will excite much attention here, and some controversy.... _c. d. to asa gray._ down, january th [ ]. my dear gray,--hooker has forwarded to me your letter to him; and i cannot express how deeply it has gratified me. to receive the approval of a man whom one has long sincerely respected, and whose judgment and knowledge are most universally admitted, is the highest reward an author can possibly wish for; and i thank you heartily for your most kind expressions. i have been absent from home for a few days, and so could not earlier answer your letter to me of the th of january. you have been extremely kind to take so much trouble and interest about the edition. it has been a mistake of my publisher not thinking of sending over the sheets. i had entirely and utterly forgotten your offer of receiving the sheets as printed off. but i must not blame my publisher, for had i remembered your most kind offer i feel pretty sure i should not have taken advantage of it; for i never dreamed of my book being so successful with general readers: i believe i should have laughed at the idea of sending the sheets to america.[ ] after much consideration, and on the strong advice of lyell and others, i have resolved to leave the present book as it is (excepting correcting errors, or here and there inserting short sentences), and to use all my strength, _which is but little_, to bring out the first part (forming a separate volume, with index, &c.) of the three volumes which will make my bigger work; so that i am very unwilling to take up time in making corrections for an american edition. i enclose a list of a few corrections in the second reprint, which you will have received by this time complete, and i could send four or five corrections or additions of equally small importance, or rather of equal brevity. i also intend to write a _short_ preface with a brief history of the subject. these i will set about, as they must some day be done, and i will send them to you in a short time--the few corrections first, and the preface afterwards, unless i hear that you have given up all idea of a separate edition. you will then be able to judge whether it is worth having the new edition with _your review prefixed_. whatever be the nature of your review, i assure you i should feel it a _great_ honour to have my book thus preceded.... _c. d. to c. lyell._ down [february th, ]. ... i am perfectly convinced (having read it this morning) that the review in the _annals_[ ] is by wollaston; no one else in the world would have used so many parentheses. i have written to him, and told him that the "pestilent" fellow thanks him for his kind manner of speaking about him. i have also told him that he would be pleased to hear that the bishop of oxford says it is the most unphilosophical[ ] work he ever read. the review seems to me clever, and only misinterprets me in a few places. like all hostile men, he passes over the explanation given of classification, morphology, embryology, and rudimentary organs, &c. i read wallace's paper in ms.,[ ] and thought it admirably good; he does not know that he has been anticipated about the depth of intervening sea determining distribution.... the most curious point in the paper seems to me that about the african character of the celebes productions, but i should require further confirmation.... henslow is staying here; i have had some talk with him; he is in much the same state as bunbury,[ ] and will go a very little way with us, but brings up no real argument against going further. he also shudders at the eye! it is really curious (and perhaps is an argument in our favour) how differently different opposers view the subject. henslow used to rest his opposition on the imperfection of the geological record, but he now thinks nothing of this, and says i have got well out of it; i wish i could quite agree with him. baden powell says he never read anything so conclusive as my statement about the eye!! a stranger writes to me about sexual selection, and regrets that i boggle about such a trifle as the brush of hair on the male turkey, and so on. as l. jenyns has a really philosophical mind, and as you say you like to see everything, i send an old letter of his. in a later letter to henslow, which i have seen, he is more candid than any opposer i have heard of, for he says, though he cannot go so far as i do, yet he can give no good reason why he should not. it is funny how each man draws his own imaginary line at which to halt. it reminds me so vividly [of] what i was told[ ] about you when i first commenced geology--to believe a _little_, but on no account to believe all. ever yours affectionately. with regard to the attitude of the more liberal representatives of the church, the following letter from charles kingsley is of interest: _c. kingsley to c. darwin._ eversley rectory, winchfield, november th, . dear sir,--i have to thank you for the unexpected honour of your book. that the naturalist whom, of all naturalists living, i most wish to know and to learn from, should have sent a scientist like me his book, encourages me at least to observe more carefully, and think more slowly. i am so poorly (in brain), that i fear i cannot read your book just now as i ought. all i have seen of it _awes_ me; both with the heap of facts and the prestige of your name, and also with the clear intuition, that if you be right, i must give up much that i have believed and written. in that i care little. let god be true, and every man a liar! let us know what is, and, as old socrates has it, [greek: hepesthai tô logô]--follow up the villainous shifty fox of an argument, into whatsoever unexpected bogs and brakes he may lead us, if we do but run into him at last. from two common superstitious, at least, i shall be free while judging of your book:-- ( .) i have long since, from watching the crossing of domesticated animals and plants, learnt to disbelieve the dogma of the permanence of species. ( .) i have gradually learnt to see that it is just as noble a conception of deity, to believe that he created primal forms capable of self-development into all forms needful _pro tempore_ and _pro loco_, as to believe that he required a fresh act of intervention to supply the _lacunas_ which he himself had made. i question whether the former be not the loftier thought. be it as it may, i shall prize your book, both for itself, and as a proof that you are aware of the existence of such a person as your faithful servant, c. kingsley. my father's old friend, the rev. j. brodie innes, of milton brodie, who was for many years vicar of down, in some reminiscences of my father which he was so good as to give me, writes in the same spirit: "we never attacked each other. before i knew mr. darwin i had adopted, and publicly expressed, the principle that the study of natural history, geology, and science in general, should be pursued without reference to the bible. that the book of nature and scripture came from the same divine source, ran in parallel lines, and when properly understood would never cross.... "in [a] letter, after i had left down, he [darwin] writes, 'we often differed, but you are one of those rare mortals from whom one can differ and yet feel no shade of animosity, and that is a thing [of] which i should feel very proud if any one could say [it] of me.' "on my last visit to down, mr. darwin said, at his dinner-table, 'innes and i have been fast friends for thirty years, and we never thoroughly agreed on any subject but once, and then we stared hard at each other, and thought one of us must be very ill.'" the following extract from a letter to lyell, feb. , , has a certain bearing on the points just touched on: "with respect to bronn's[ ] objection that it cannot be shown how life arises, and likewise to a certain extent asa gray's remark that natural selection is not a _vera causa_, i was much interested by finding accidentally in brewster's _life of newton_, that leibnitz objected to the law of gravity because newton could not show what gravity itself is. as it has chanced, i have used in letters this very same argument, little knowing that any one had really thus objected to the law of gravity. newton answers by saying that it is philosophy to make out the movements of a clock, though you do not know why the weight descends to the ground. leibnitz further objected that the law of gravity was opposed to natural religion! is this not curious? i really think i shall use the facts for some introductory remarks for my bigger book." _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down, march rd [ ]. ... i think you expect too much in regard to change of opinion on the subject of species. one large class of men, more especially i suspect of naturalists, never will care about _any_ general question, of which old gray, of the british museum, may be taken as a type; and secondly, nearly all men past a moderate age, either in actual years or in mind are, i am fully convinced, incapable of looking at facts under a new point of view. seriously, i am astonished and rejoiced at the progress which the subject has made; look at the enclosed memorandum. ---- says my book will be forgotten in ten years, perhaps so; but, with such a list, i feel convinced the subject will not. [here follows the memorandum referred to:] -------------------------------------------------------------------------- geologists. | zoologists and | physiologists. |botanists. | palæontologists. | | ------------------|------------------|------------------|----------------- lyell. |huxley. |carpenter. |hooker. ramsay.[ ] |j. lubbock. |sir. h. holland |h. c. watson. jukes.[ ] |l. jenyns |(to large extent).|asa gray h. d. rogers.[ ]|(to large extent).| |(to some extent). |searles wood.[ ]| |dr. boott | |(to large extent). | |thwaites.[ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- _c. d. to asa gray_. down, april [ ]. ... i remember well the time when the thought of the eye made me cold all over, but i have got over this stage of the complaint, and now small trifling particulars of structure often make me very uncomfortable. the sight of a feather in a peacock's tail, whenever i gaze at it, makes me sick!... you may like to hear about reviews on my book. sedgwick (as i and lyell feel _certain_ from internal evidence) has reviewed me savagely and unfairly in the _spectator_.[ ] the notice includes much abuse, and is hardly fair in several respects. he would actually lead any one, who was ignorant of geology, to suppose that i had invented the great gaps between successive geological formations, instead of its being an almost universally admitted dogma. but my dear old friend sedgwick, with his noble heart, is old, and is rabid with indignation.... there has been one prodigy of a review, namely, an _opposed_ one (by pictet,[ ] the palæontologist, in the _bib. universelle_ of geneva) which is _perfectly_ fair and just, and i agree to every word he says; our only difference being that he attaches less weight to arguments in favour, and more to arguments opposed, than i do. of all the opposed reviews, i think this the only quite fair one, and i never expected to see one. please observe that i do not class your review by any means as opposed, though you think so yourself! it has done me _much_ too good service ever to appear in that rank in my eyes. but i fear i shall weary you with so much about my book. i should rather think there was a good chance of my becoming the most egotistical man in all europe! what a proud pre-eminence! well, you have helped to make me so, and therefore you must forgive me if you can. my dear gray, ever yours most gratefully. _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, april th [ ]. i have just read the _edinburgh_,[ ] which without doubt is by ----. it is extremely malignant, clever, and i fear will be very damaging. he is atrociously severe on huxley's lecture, and very bitter against hooker. so we three _enjoyed_ it together. not that i really enjoyed it, for it made me uncomfortable for one night; but i have got quite over it to-day. it requires much study to appreciate all the bitter spite of many of the remarks against me; indeed i did not discover all myself. it scandalously misrepresents many parts. he misquotes some passages, altering words within inverted commas.... it is painful to be hated in the intense degree with which ---- hates me. now for a curious thing about my book, and then i have done. in last saturday's _gardeners' chronicle_,[ ] a mr. patrick matthew publishes a long extract from his work on _naval timber and arboriculture_ published in , in which he briefly but completely anticipates the theory of natural selection. i have ordered the book, as some few passages are rather obscure, but it is certainly, i think, a complete but not developed anticipation! erasmus always said that surely this would be shown to be the case some day. anyhow, one may be excused in not having discovered the fact in a work on naval timber. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down [april th, ]. my dear hooker,--questions of priority so often lead to odious quarrels, that i should esteem it a great favour if you would read the enclosed.[ ] if you think it proper that i should send it (and of this there can hardly be any question), and if you think it full and ample enough, please alter the date to the day on which you post it, and let that be soon. the case in the _gardeners' chronicle_ seems a _little_ stronger than in mr. matthew's book, for the passages are therein scattered in three places; but it would be mere hair-splitting to notice that. if you object to my letter, please return it; but i do not expect that you will, but i thought that you would not object to run your eye over it. my dear hooker, it is a great thing for me to have so good, true, and old a friend as you. i owe much for science to my friends. ... i have gone over [the _edinburgh_] review again, and compared passages, and i am astonished at the misrepresentations. but i am glad i resolved not to answer. perhaps it is selfish, but to answer and think more on the subject is too unpleasant. i am so sorry that huxley by my means has been thus atrociously attacked. i do not suppose you much care about the gratuitous attack on you. lyell in his letter remarked that you seemed to him as if you were overworked. do, pray, be cautious, and remember how many and many a man has done this--who thought it absurd till too late. i have often thought the same. you know that you were bad enough before your indian journey. _c. d. to c. lyell._ down, april [ ]. ... i was particularly glad to hear what you thought about not noticing [the _edinburgh_] review. hooker and huxley thought it a sort of duty to point out the alteration of quoted citations, and there is truth in this remark; but i so hated the thought that i resolved not to do so. i shall come up to london on saturday the th, for sir b. brodie's party, as i have an accumulation of things to do in london, and will (if i do not hear to the contrary) call about a quarter before ten on sunday morning, and sit with you at breakfast, but will not sit long, and so take up much of your time. i must say one more word about our quasi-theological controversy about natural selection, and let me have your opinion when we meet in london. do you consider that the successive variations in the size of the crop of the pouter pigeon, which man has accumulated to please his caprice, have been due to "the creative and sustaining powers of brahma?" in the sense that an omnipotent and omniscient deity must order and know everything, this must be admitted; yet, in honest truth, i can hardly admit it. it seems preposterous that a maker of a universe should care about the crop of a pigeon solely to please man's silly fancies. but if you agree with me in thinking such an interposition of the deity uncalled for, i can see no reason whatever for believing in such interpositions in the case of natural beings, in which strange and admirable peculiarities have been naturally selected for the creature's own benefit. imagine a pouter in a state of nature wading into the water and then, being buoyed up by its inflated crop, sailing about in search of food. what admiration this would have excited--adaptation to the laws of hydrostatic pressure, &c. &c. for the life of me, i cannot see any difficulty in natural selection producing the most exquisite structure, _if such structure can be arrived at by gradation_, and i know from experience how hard it is to name any structure towards which at least some gradations are not known. ever yours. p.s.--the conclusion at which i have come, as i have told asa gray, is that such a question, as is touched on in this note, is beyond the human intellect, like "predestination and free will," or the "origin of evil." _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down [may th, ]. ... how paltry it is in such men as x., y. and co. not reading your essay. it is incredibly paltry. they may all attack me to their hearts' content. i am got case-hardened. as for the old fogies in cambridge,[ ] it really signifies nothing. i look at their attacks as a proof that our work is worth the doing. it makes me resolve to buckle on my armour. i see plainly that it will be a long uphill fight. but think of lyell's progress with geology. one thing i see most plainly, that without lyell's, yours, huxley's and carpenter's aid, my book would have been a mere flash in the pan. but if we all stick to it, we shall surely gain the day. and i now see that the battle is worth fighting. i deeply hope that you think so. _c. d. to asa gray._ down may nd [ ]. my dear gray,--again i have to thank you for one of your very pleasant letters of may th, enclosing a very pleasant remittance of £ . i am in simple truth astonished at all the kind trouble you have taken for me. i return appletons' account. for the chance of your wishing for a formal acknowledgment i send one. if you have any further communication to the appletons, pray express my acknowledgment for [their] generosity; for it is generosity in my opinion. i am not at all surprised at the sale diminishing; my extreme surprise is at the greatness of the sale. no doubt the public has been _shamefully_ imposed on! for they bought the book thinking that it would be nice easy reading. i expect the sale to stop soon in england, yet lyell wrote to me the other day that calling at murray's he heard that fifty copies had gone in the previous forty-eight hours. i am extremely glad that you will notice in _silliman_ the additions in the _origin_.[ ] judging from letters (and i have just seen one from thwaites to hooker), and from remarks, the most serious omission in my book was not explaining how it is, as i believe, that all forms do not necessarily advance, how there can now be _simple_ organisms still existing.... i hear there is a _very_ severe review on me in the _north british_ by a rev. mr. dunns,[ ] a free kirk minister, and dabbler in natural history. in the _saturday review_ (one of our cleverest periodicals) of may th, p. , there is a nice article on [the _edinburgh_] review, defending huxley, but not hooker; and the latter, i think, [the _edinburgh_ reviewer] treats most ungenerously.[ ] but surely you will get sick unto death of me and my reviewers. with respect to the theological view of the question. this is always painful to me. i am bewildered. i had no intention to write atheistically. but i own that i cannot see as plainly as others do, and as i should wish to do, evidence of design and beneficence on all sides of us. there seems to me too much misery in the world. i cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent god would have designedly created the ichneumonidæ with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars, or that a cat should play with mice. not believing this, i see no necessity in the belief that the eye was expressly designed. on the other hand, i cannot anyhow be contented to view this wonderful universe, and especially the nature of man, and to conclude that everything is the result of brute force. i am inclined to look at everything as resulting from designed laws, with the details, whether good or bad, left to the working out of what we may call chance. not that this notion _at all_ satisfies me. i feel most deeply that the whole subject is too profound for the human intellect. a dog might as well speculate on the mind of newton. let each man hope and believe what he can. certainly i agree with you that my views are not at all necessarily atheistical. the lightning kills a man, whether a good one or bad one, owing to the excessively complex action of natural laws. a child (who may turn out an idiot) is born by the action of even more complex laws, and i can see no reason why a man, or other animal, may not have been aboriginally produced by other laws, and that all these laws may have been expressly designed by an omniscient creator, who foresaw every future event and consequence. but the more i think the more bewildered i become; as indeed i have probably shown by this letter. most deeply do i feel your generous kindness and interest. yours sincerely and cordially. the meeting of the british association at oxford in is famous for two pitched battles over the _origin of species_. both of them originated in unimportant papers. on thursday, june th, dr. daubeny of oxford made a communication to section d: "on the final causes of the sexuality of plants, with particular reference to mr. darwin's work on the _origin of species_." mr. huxley was called on by the president, but tried (according to the _athenæum_ report) to avoid a discussion, on the ground "that a general audience, in which sentiment would unduly interfere with intellect, was not the public before which such a discussion should be carried on." however, the subject was not allowed to drop. sir r. owen (i quote from the _athenæum_, july th, ), who "wished to approach this subject in the spirit of the philosopher," expressed his "conviction that there were facts by which the public could come to some conclusion with regard to the probabilities of the truth of mr. darwin's theory." he went on to say that the brain of the gorilla "presented more differences, as compared with the brain of man, than it did when compared with the brains of the very lowest and most problematical of the quadrumana." mr. huxley replied, and gave these assertions a "direct and unqualified contradiction," pledging himself to "justify that unusual procedure elsewhere,"[ ] a pledge which he amply fulfilled.[ ] on friday there was peace, but on saturday th, the battle arose with redoubled fury, at a conjoint meeting of three sections, over a paper by dr. draper of new york, on the "intellectual development of europe considered with reference to the views of mr. darwin." the following account is from an eye-witness of the scene. "the excitement was tremendous. the lecture-room, in which it had been arranged that the discussion should be held, proved far too small for the audience, and the meeting adjourned to the library of the museum, which was crammed to suffocation long before the champions entered the lists. the numbers were estimated at from to . had it been term-time, or had the general public been admitted, it would have been impossible to have accommodated the rush to hear the oratory of the bold bishop.[ ] professor henslow, the president of section d, occupied the chair, and wisely announced _in limine_ that none who had not valid arguments to bring forward on one side or the other, would be allowed to address the meeting: a caution that proved necessary, for no fewer than four combatants had their utterances burked by him, because of their indulgence in vague declamation. "the bishop was up to time, and spoke for full half-an-hour with inimitable spirit, emptiness and unfairness. it was evident from his handling of the subject that he had been 'crammed' up to the throat, and that he knew nothing at first hand; in fact, he used no argument not to be found in his _quarterly_ article.[ ] he ridiculed darwin badly, and huxley savagely, but all in such dulcet tones, so persuasive a manner, and in such well-turned periods, that i who had been inclined to blame the president for allowing a discussion that could serve no scientific purpose, now forgave him from the bottom of my heart." what follows is from notes most kindly supplied by the hon. and rev. w. h. fremantle, who was an eye-witness of the scene. "the bishop of oxford attacked darwin, at first playfully but at last in grim earnest. it was known that the bishop had written an article against darwin in the last _quarterly review_: it was also rumoured that professor owen had been staying at cuddesden and had primed the bishop, who was to act as mouthpiece to the great palæontologist, who did not himself dare to enter the lists. the bishop, however, did not show himself master of the facts, and made one serious blunder. a fact which had been much dwelt on as confirmatory of darwin's idea of variation, was that a sheep had been born shortly before in a flock in the north of england, having an addition of one to the vertebræ of the spine. the bishop was declaring with rhetorical exaggeration that there was hardly any actual evidence on darwin's side. 'what have they to bring forward?' he exclaimed. 'some rumoured statement about a long-legged sheep.' but he passed on to banter: 'i should like to ask professor huxley, who is sitting by me, and is about to tear me to pieces when i have sat down, as to his belief in being descended from an ape. is it on his grandfather's or his grandmother's side that the ape ancestry comes in?' and then taking a graver tone, he asserted in a solemn peroration that darwin's views were contrary to the revelations of god in the scriptures. professor huxley was unwilling to respond: but he was called for and spoke with his usual incisiveness and with some scorn. 'i am here only in the interests of science,' he said, 'and i have not heard anything which can prejudice the case of my august client.' then after showing how little competent the bishop was to enter upon the discussion, he touched on the question of creation. 'you say that development drives out the creator. but you assert that god made you: and yet you know that you yourself were originally a little piece of matter no bigger than the end of this gold pencil-case.' lastly as to the descent from a monkey, he said: 'i should feel it no shame to have risen from such an origin. but i should feel it a shame to have sprung from one who prostituted the gifts of culture and of eloquence to the service of prejudice and of falsehood.' "many others spoke. mr. gresley, an old oxford don, pointed out that in human nature at least orderly development was not the necessary rule; homer was the greatest of poets, but he lived years ago, and has not produced his like. "admiral fitz-roy was present, and said that he had often expostulated with his old comrade of the _beagle_ for entertaining views which were contradictory to the first chapter of genesis. "sir john lubbock declared that many of the arguments by which the permanence of species was supported came to nothing, and instanced some wheat which was said to have come off an egyptian mummy and was sent to him to prove that wheat had not changed since the time of the pharaohs; but which proved to be made of french chocolate.[ ] sir joseph (then dr.) hooker spoke shortly, saying that he had found the hypothesis of natural selection so helpful in explaining the phenomena of his own subject of botany, that he had been constrained to accept it. after a few words from darwin's old friend professor henslow who occupied the chair, the meeting broke up, leaving the impression that those most capable of estimating the arguments of darwin in detail saw their way to accept his conclusions." many versions of mr. huxley's speech were current: the following report of his conclusion is from a letter addressed by the late john richard green, then an undergraduate, to a fellow-student, now professor boyd dawkins:--"i asserted, and i repeat, that a man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. if there were an ancestor whom i should feel shame in recalling, it would be a _man_, a man of restless and versatile intellect, who, not content with an equivocal success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digressions, and skilled appeals to religious prejudice."[ ] the following letter shows that mr. huxley's presence at this remarkable scene depended on so slight a chance as that of meeting a friend in the street; that this friend should have been robert chambers, so that the author of the _vestiges_ should have sounded the war-note for the battle of the _origin_, adds interest to the incident. i have to thank mr. huxley for allowing the story to be told in words of his not written for publication. _t. h. huxley to francis darwin._ june , . ... i should say that fremantle's account is substantially correct; but that green has the passage of my speech more accurately. however, i am certain i did not use the word "equivocal."[ ] the odd part of the business is that i should not have been present except for robert chambers. i had heard of the bishop's intention to utilise the occasion. i knew he had the reputation of being a first-rate controversialist, and i was quite aware that if he played his cards properly, we should have little chance, with such an audience, of making an efficient defence. moreover, i was very tired, and wanted to join my wife at her brother-in-law's country house near reading, on the saturday. on the friday i met chambers in the street, and in reply to some remark of his about the meeting, i said that i did not mean to attend it; did not see the good of giving up peace and quietness to be episcopally pounded. chambers broke out into vehement remonstrances and talked about my deserting them. so i said, "oh! if you take it that way, i'll come and have my share of what is going on." so i came, and chanced to sit near old sir benjamin brodie. the bishop began his speech, and, to my astonishment, very soon showed that he was so ignorant that he did not know how to manage his own case. my spirits rose proportionally, and when he turned to me with his insolent question, i said to sir benjamin, in an undertone, "the lord hath delivered him into mine hands." that sagacious old gentleman stared at me as if i had lost my senses. but, in fact, the bishop had justified the severest retort i could devise, and i made up my mind to let him have it. i was careful, however, not to rise to reply, until the meeting called for me--then i let myself go. in justice to the bishop, i am bound to say he bore no malice, but was always courtesy itself when we occasionally met in after years. hooker and i walked away from the meeting together, and i remember saying to him that this experience had changed my opinion as to the practical value of the art of public speaking, and that, from that time forth, i should carefully cultivate it, and try to leave off hating it. i did the former, but never quite succeeded in the latter effort. i did not mean to trouble you with such a long scrawl when i began about this piece of ancient history. ever yours very faithfully t. h. huxley. the eye-witness above quoted (p. ) continues:-- "there was a crowded conversazione in the evening at the rooms of the hospitable and genial professor of botany, dr. daubeny, where the almost sole topic was the battle of the _origin_, and i was much struck with the fair and unprejudiced way in which the black coats and white cravats of oxford discussed the question, and the frankness with which they offered their congratulations to the winners in the combat."[ ] _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ monday night [july nd, ]. my dear hooker,--i have just received your letter. i have been very poorly, with almost continuous bad headache for forty-eight hours, and i was low enough, and thinking what a useless burthen i was to myself and all others, when your letter came, and it has so cheered me; your kindness and affection brought tears into my eyes. talk of fame, honour, pleasure, wealth, all are dirt compared with affection; and this is a doctrine with which, i know, from your letter, that you will agree with from the bottom of your heart.... how i should have liked to have wandered about oxford with you, if i had been well enough; and how still more i should have liked to have heard you triumphing over the bishop. i am astonished at your success and audacity. it is something unintelligible to me how any one can argue in public like orators do. i had no idea you had this power. i have read lately so many hostile views, that i was beginning to think that perhaps i was wholly in the wrong, and that ---- was right when he said the whole subject would be forgotten in ten years; but now that i hear that you and huxley will fight publicly (which i am sure i never could do), i fully believe that our cause will, in the long-run, prevail. i am glad i was not in oxford, for i should have been overwhelmed, with my [health] in its present state. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ [july .] ... i have just read the _quarterly_.[ ] it is uncommonly clever; it picks out with skill all the most conjectural parts, and brings forward well all the difficulties. it quizzes me quite splendidly by quoting the _anti-jacobin_ versus my grandfather. you are not alluded to, nor, strange to say, huxley; and i can plainly see, here and there, ----'s hand. the concluding pages will make lyell shake in his shoes. by jove, if he sticks to us, he will be a real hero. good-night. your well-quizzed, but not sorrowful, and affectionate friend, c. d. i can see there has been some queer tampering with the review, for a page has been cut out and reprinted. the following extract from a letter of sept. st, , is of interest, not only as showing that lyell was still conscientiously working out his conversion, but also and especially as illustrating the remarkable fact that hardly any of my father's critics gave him any new objections--so fruitful had been his ponderings of twenty years:-- "i have been much interested by your letter of the th, received this morning. it has _delighted_ me, because it demonstrates that you have thought a good deal lately on natural selection. few things have surprised me more than the entire paucity of objections and difficulties new to me in the published reviews. your remarks are of a different stamp and new to me." _c. d. to asa gray._ [hartfield, sussex] july nd [ ]. my dear gray,--owing to absence from home at water-cure and then having to move my sick girl to whence i am now writing, i have only lately read the discussion in _proc. american acad._,[ ] and now i cannot resist expressing my sincere admiration of your most clear powers of reasoning. as hooker lately said in a note to me, you are more than _any one_ else the thorough master of the subject. i declare that you know my book as well as i do myself; and bring to the question new lines of illustration and argument in a manner which excites my astonishment and almost my envy![ ] i admire these discussions, i think, almost more than your article in _silliman's journal_. every single word seems weighed carefully, and tells like a -pound shot. it makes me much wish (but i know that you have not time) that you could write more in detail, and give, for instance, the facts on the variability of the american wild fruits. the _athenæum_ has the largest circulation, and i have sent my copy to the editor with a request that he would republish the first discussion; i much fear he will not, as he reviewed the subject in so hostile a spirit.... i shall be curious [to see], and will order the august number, as soon as i know that it contains your review of reviews. my conclusion is that you have made a mistake in being a botanist, you ought to have been a lawyer. the following passages from a letter to huxley (dec. nd, ) may serve to show what was my father's view of the position of the subject, after a year's experience of reviewers, critics and converts:-- "i have got fairly sick of hostile reviews. nevertheless, they have been of use in showing me when to expatiate a little and to introduce a few new discussions. "i entirely agree with you, that the difficulties on my notions are terrific, yet having seen what all the reviews have said against me, i have far more confidence in the _general_ truth of the doctrine than i formerly had. another thing gives me confidence, viz. that some who went half an inch with me now go further, and some who were bitterly opposed are now less bitterly opposed.... i can pretty plainly see that, if my view is ever to be generally adopted, it will be by young men growing up and replacing the old workers, and then young ones finding that they can group facts and search out new lines of investigation better on the notion of descent, than on that of creation." footnotes: [ ] this refers to the passage in the _origin of species_ ( nd edit. p. ) in which the lapse of time implied by the denudation of the weald is discussed. the discussion closes with the sentence: "so that it is not improbable that a longer period than million years has elapsed since the latter part of the secondary period." this passage is omitted in the later editions of the _origin_, against the advice of some of his friends, as appears from the pencil notes in my father's copy of the nd edition. [ ] in the first edition, the passages occur on p. . [ ] _gardeners' chronicle_, . sir j. d. hooker took the line of complete impartiality, so as not to commit the editor, lindley. [ ] on jan. gray wrote to darwin: "it naturally happens that my review of your book does not exhibit anything like the full force of the impression the book has made upon me. under the circumstances i suppose i do your theory more good here, by bespeaking for it a fair and favourable consideration, and by standing non-committed as to its full conclusions, than i should if i announced myself a convert; nor could i say the latter, with truth.... "what seems to me the weakest point in the book is the attempt to account for the formation of organs, the making of eyes, &c., by natural selection. some of this reads quite lamarckian." [ ] in a letter to mr. murray, , my father wrote:--"i am amused by asa gray's account of the excitement my book has made amongst naturalists in the u. states. agassiz has denounced it in a newspaper, but yet in such terms that it is in fact a fine advertisement!" this seems to refer to a lecture given before the mercantile library association. [ ] _annals and mag. of nat. hist._ third series, vol. v. p. . my father has obviously taken the expression "pestilent" from the following passage (p. ): "but who is this nature, we have a right to ask, who has such tremendous power, and to whose efficiency such marvellous performances are ascribed? what are her image and attributes, when dragged from her wordy lurking-place? is she ought but a pestilent abstraction, like dust cast in our eyes to obscure the workings of an intelligent first cause of all?" the reviewer pays a tribute to my father's candour "so manly and outspoken as almost to 'cover a multitude of sins.'" the parentheses (to which allusion is made above) are so frequent as to give a characteristic appearance to mr. wollaston's pages. [ ] another version of the words is given by lyell, to whom they were spoken, viz. "the most illogical book ever written."--_life and letters of sir c. lyell_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] "on the zoological geography of the malay archipelago."--_linn. soc. journ._ . [ ] the late sir charles bunbury, well known as a paleo-botanist. [ ] by professor henslow. [ ] the translator of the first german edition of the _origin_. [ ] andrew ramsay, late director-general of the geological survey. [ ] joseph beete jukes, m.a., f.r.s., born , died . he was educated at cambridge, and from to he acted as naturalist to h.m.s. _fly_, on an exploring expedition in australia and new guinea. he was afterwards appointed director of the geological survey of ireland. he was the author of many papers, and of more than one good handbook of geology. [ ] professor of geology in the university of glasgow. born in the united states , died . [ ] searles valentine wood, died . chiefly known for his work on the mollusca of the _crag_. [ ] dr. g. h. k. thwaites, f.r.s., was born in , or about that date, and died in ceylon, september , . he began life as a notary, but his passion for botany and entomology ultimately led to his taking to science as a profession. he became lecturer on botany at the bristol school of medicine, and in he was appointed director of the botanic gardens at peradeniya, which he made "the most beautiful tropical garden in the world." he is best known through his important discovery of conjugation in the diatomaceæ ( ). his _enumeratio plantarum zeylaniæ_ ( - ) was "the first complete account, on modern lines, of any definitely circumscribed tropical area." (from a notice in _nature_, october , .) [ ] _spectator_, march , . there were favourable notices of the origin by huxley in the _westminster review_, and carpenter in the _medico-chir. review_, both in the april numbers. [ ] françois jules pictet, in the _archives des science de la bibliothèque universelle_, mars . [ ] _edinburgh review_, april, . [ ] april , . [ ] my father wrote (_gardeners' chronicle_, april , , p. ): "i have been much interested by mr. patrick matthew's communication in the number of your paper dated april th. i freely acknowledge that mr. matthew has anticipated by many years the explanation which i have offered of the origin of species, under the name of natural selection. i think that no one will feel surprised that neither i, nor apparently any other naturalist, had heard of mr. matthew's views, considering how briefly they are given, and that they appeared in the appendix to a work on naval timber and arboriculture. i can do no more than offer my apologies to mr. matthew for my entire ignorance of his publication. if another edition of my work is called for, i will insert to the foregoing effect." in spite of my father's recognition of his claims, mr. matthew remained unsatisfied, and complained that an article in the _saturday analyst and leader_, nov. , , was "scarcely fair in alluding to mr. darwin as the parent of the origin of species, seeing that i published the whole that mr. darwin attempts to prove, more than twenty-nine years ago." it was not until later that he learned that matthew had also been forestalled. in october , he wrote sir j. d. hooker:--"talking of the _origin_, a yankee has called my attention to a paper attached to dr. wells' famous _essay on dew_, which was read in to the royal soc., but not [then] printed, in which he applies most distinctly the principle of natural selection to the races of man. so poor old patrick matthew is not the first, and he cannot, or ought not, any longer to put on his title-pages, 'discoverer of the principle of natural selection'!" [ ] this refers to a "savage onslaught" on the _origin_ by sedgwick at the cambridge philosophical society. henslow defended his old pupil, and maintained that "the subject was a legitimate one for investigation." [ ] "the battle rages furiously in the united states. gray says he was preparing a speech, which would take ½ hours to deliver, and which he 'fondly hoped would be a stunner.' he is fighting splendidly, and there seem to have been many discussions with agassiz and others at the meetings. agassiz pities me much at being so deluded."--from a letter to hooker, may th, . [ ] the statement as to authorship was made on the authority of robert chambers. [ ] in a letter to mr. huxley my father wrote:--"have you seen the last _saturday review_? i am very glad of the defence of you and of myself. i wish the reviewer had noticed hooker. the reviewer, whoever he is, is a jolly good fellow, as this review and the last on me showed. he writes capitally, and understands well his subject. i wish he had slapped [the _edinburgh_ reviewer] a little bit harder." [ ] _man's place in nature_, by t. h. huxley, , p. . [ ] see the _nat. hist. review_, . [ ] it was well known that bishop wilberforce was going to speak. [ ] _quarterly review_, july . [ ] sir john lubbock also insisted on the embryological evidence for evolution.--f. d. [ ] mr. fawcett wrote (_macmillan's magazine_, ):--"the retort was so justly deserved and so inimitable in its manner, that no one who was present can ever forget the impression that it made." [ ] this agrees with professor victor carus's recollection. [ ] see professor newton's interesting _early days of darwinism in macmillan's magazine_, feb. , where the battle at oxford is briefly described. [ ] _quarterly review_, july . the article in question was by wilberforce, bishop of oxford, and was afterwards published in his _essays contributed to the quarterly review_, . in the _life and letters_, ii. p. , mr. huxley has given some account of this article. i quote a few lines:--"since lord brougham assailed dr. young, the world has seen no such specimen of the insolence of a shallow pretender to a master in science as this remarkable production, in which one of the most exact of observers, most cautious of reasoners, and most candid of expositors, of this or any other age, is held up to scorn as a 'flighty' person, who endeavours 'to prop up his utterly rotten fabric of guess and speculation,' and whose 'mode of dealing with nature' is reprobated as 'utterly dishonourable to natural science.'" the passage from the _anti-jacobin_, referred to in the letter, gives the history of the evolution of space from the "primæval point or _punctum saliens_ of the universe," which is conceived to have moved "forward in a right line, _ad infinitum_, till it grew tired; after which the right line, which it had generated, would begin to put itself in motion in a lateral direction, describing an area of infinite extent. this area, as soon as it became conscious of its own existence, would begin to ascend or descend according as its specific gravity would determine it, forming an immense solid space filled with vacuum, and capable of containing the present universe." the following (p. ) may serve as an example of the passages in which the reviewer refers to sir charles lyell:--"that mr. darwin should have wandered from this broad highway of nature's works into the jungle of fanciful assumption is no small evil. we trust that he is mistaken in believing that he may count sir c. lyell as one of his converts. we know, indeed, the strength of the temptations which he can bring to bear upon his geological brother.... yet no man has been more distinct and more logical in the denial of the transmutation of species than sir c. lyell, and that not in the infancy of his scientific life, but in its full vigour and maturity." the bishop goes on to appeal to lyell, in order that with his help "this flimsy speculation may be as completely put down as was what in spite of all denials we must venture to call its twin though less instructed brother, the _vestiges of creation_." with reference to this article, mr. brodie innes, my father's old friend and neighbour, writes:--"most men would have been annoyed by an article written with the bishop's accustomed vigour, a mixture of argument and ridicule. mr. darwin was writing on some parish matter, and put a postscript--'if you have not seen the last _quarterly_, do get it; the bishop of oxford has made such capital fun of me and my grandfather.' by a curious coincidence, when i received the letter, i was staying in the same house with the bishop, and showed it to him. he said, 'i am very glad he takes it in that way, he is such a capital fellow.'" [ ] april th, . dr. gray criticised in detail "several of the positions taken at the preceding meeting by mr. [j. a.] lowell, prof. bowen and prof. agassiz." it was reprinted in the _athenæum_, aug. th, . [ ] on sept. th, , he wrote in the same sense to gray:--"you never touch the subject without making it clearer. i look at it as even more extraordinary that you never say a word or use an epithet which does not express fully my meaning. now lyell, hooker, and others, who perfectly understand my book, yet sometimes use expressions to which i demur." chapter xiv. the spread of evolution. -- . the beginning of the year saw my father engaged on the rd edition ( copies) of the _origin_, which was largely corrected and added to, and was published in april, . on july , he started, with his family, for torquay, where he remained until august --a holiday which he characteristically enters in his diary as "eight weeks and a day." the house he occupied was in hesketh crescent, a pleasantly placed row of houses close above the sea, somewhat removed from what was then the main body of the town, and not far from the beautiful cliffed coast-line in the neighbourhood of anstey's cove. during the torquay holiday, and for the remainder of the year, he worked at the fertilisation of orchids. this part of the year is not dealt with in the present chapter, because (as explained in the preface) the record of his life, seems to become clearer when the whole of his botanical work is placed together and treated separately. the present chapter will, therefore, include only the progress of his work in the direction of a general amplification of the _origin of species_--_e.g._, the publication of _animals and plants_ and the _descent of man_. it will also give some idea of the growth of belief in evolutionary doctrines. with regard to the third edition, he wrote to mr. murray in december, :-- "i shall be glad to hear when you have decided how many copies you will print off--the more the better for me in all ways, as far as compatible with safety; for i hope never again to make so many corrections, or rather additions, which i have made in hopes of making my many rather stupid reviewers at least understand what is meant. i hope and think i shall improve the book considerably." an interesting feature in the new edition was the "historical sketch of the recent progress of opinion on the origin of species,"[ ] which now appeared for the first time, and was continued in the later editions of the work. it bears a strong impress of the author's personal character in the obvious wish to do full justice to all his predecessors,--though even in this respect it has not escaped some adverse criticism. a passage in a letter to hooker (march , ) gives the history of one of his corrections. "here is a good joke: h. c. watson (who, i fancy and hope, is going to review the new edition of the _origin_) says that in the first four paragraphs of the introduction, the words 'i,' 'me,' 'my,' occur forty-three times! i was dimly conscious of the accursed fact. he says it can be explained phrenologically, which i suppose civilly means, that i am the most egotistically self-sufficient man alive; perhaps so. i wonder whether he will print this pleasing fact; it beats hollow the parentheses in wollaston's writing. "i am, _my_ dear hooker, ever yours, "c. darwin. "p.s.--do not spread this pleasing joke; it is rather too biting." he wrote a couple of years later, , to asa gray, in a manner which illustrates his use of the personal pronoun in the earlier editions of the _origin_:-- "you speak of lyell as a judge; now what i complain of is that he declines to be a judge.... i have sometimes almost wished that lyell had pronounced against me. when i say 'me,' i only mean _change of species by descent_. that seems to me the turning-point. personally, of course, i care much about natural selection; but that seems to me utterly unimportant, compared to the question of creation _or_ modification." he was, at first, alone, and felt himself to be so in maintaining a rational workable theory of evolution. it was therefore perfectly natural that he should speak of "my" theory. towards the end of the present year ( ) the final arrangements for the first french edition of the _origin_ were completed, and in september a copy of the third english edition was despatched to mdlle. clémence royer, who undertook the work of translation. the book was now spreading on the continent, a dutch edition had appeared, and, as we have seen, a german translation had been published in . in a letter to mr. murray (september , ), he wrote, "my book seems exciting much attention in germany, judging from the number of discussions sent me." the silence had been broken, and in a few years the voice of german science was to become one of the strongest of the advocates of evolution. a letter, june , , gave a pleasant echo from the continent of the growth of his views:-- _hugh falconer[ ] to c. darwin._ sackville st., w., june , . my dear darwin,--i have been to adelsberg cave and brought back with me a live _proteus anguinus_, designed for you from the moment i got it; _i.e._ if you have got an aquarium and would care to have it. i only returned last night from the continent, and hearing from your brother that you are about to go to torquay, i lose no time in making you the offer. the poor dear animal is still alive--although it has had no appreciable means of sustenance for a month--and i am most anxious to get rid of the responsibility of starving it longer. in your hands it will thrive and have a fair chance of being developed without delay into some type of the columbidæ--say a pouter or a tumbler. my dear darwin, i have been rambling through the north of italy, and germany lately. everywhere have i heard your views and your admirable essay canvassed--the views of course often dissented from, according to the special bias of the speaker--but the work, its honesty of purpose, grandeur of conception, felicity of illustration, and courageous exposition, always referred to in terms of the highest admiration. and among your warmest friends no one rejoiced more heartily in the just appreciation of charles darwin than did, yours very truly. my father replied:-- down [june , ]. my dear falconer,--i have just received your note, and by good luck a day earlier than properly, and i lose not a moment in answering you, and thanking you heartily for your offer of the valuable specimen; but i have no aquarium and shall soon start for torquay, so that it would be a thousand pities that i should have it. yet i should certainly much like to see it, but i fear it is impossible. would not the zoological society be the best place? and then the interest which many would take in this extraordinary animal would repay you for your trouble. kind as you have been in taking this trouble and offering me this specimen, to tell the truth i value your note more than the specimen. i shall keep your note amongst a very few precious letters. your kindness has quite touched me. yours affectionately and gratefully. my father, who had the strongest belief in the value of asa gray's help, was anxious that his evolutionary writings should be more widely known in england. in the autumn of , and the early part of , he had a good deal of correspondence with him as to the publication, in the form of a pamphlet, of gray's three articles in the july, august, and october numbers of the _atlantic monthly_, . the reader will find these articles republished in dr. gray's _darwiniana_, p. , under the title "natural selection not inconsistent with natural theology." the pamphlet found many admirers, and my father believed that it was of much value in lessening opposition, and making converts to evolution. his high opinion of it is shown not only in his letters, but by the fact that he inserted a special notice of it in a prominent place in the third edition of the _origin_. lyell, among others, recognised its value as an antidote to the kind of criticism from which the cause of evolution suffered. thus my father wrote to dr. gray: "just to exemplify the use of your pamphlet, the bishop of london was asking lyell what he thought of the review in the _quarterly_, and lyell answered, 'read asa gray in the _atlantic_.'" on the same subject he wrote to gray in the following year:-- "i believe that your pamphlet has done my book _great_ good; and i thank you from my heart for myself: and believing that the views are in large part true, i must think that you have done natural science a good turn. natural selection seems to be making a little progress in england and on the continent; a new german edition is called for, and a french one has just appeared." the following may serve as an example of the form assumed between these friends of the animosity at that time so strong between england and america[ ]:-- "talking of books, i am in the middle of one which pleases me, though it is very innocent food, viz. miss cooper's _journal of a naturalist_. who is she? she seems a very clever woman, and gives a capital account of the battle between _our_ and _your_ weeds.[ ] does it not hurt your yankee pride that we thrash you so confoundedly? i am sure mrs. gray will stick up for your own weeds. ask her whether they are not more honest, downright good sort of weeds. the book gives an extremely pretty picture of one of your villages; but i see your autumn, though so much more gorgeous than ours, comes on sooner, and that is one comfort." a question constantly recurring in the letters to gray is that of design. for instance:-- "your question what would convince me of design is a poser. if i saw an angel come down to teach us good, and i was convinced from others seeing him that i was not mad, i should believe in design. if i could be convinced thoroughly that life and mind was in an unknown way a function of other imponderable force, i should be convinced. if man was made of brass or iron and no way connected with any other organism which had ever lived, i should perhaps be convinced. but this is childish writing. "i have lately been corresponding with lyell, who, i think, adopts your idea of the stream of variation having been led or designed. i have asked him (and he says he will hereafter reflect and answer me) whether he believes that the shape of my nose was designed. if he does i have nothing more to say. if not, seeing what fanciers have done by selecting individual differences in the nasal bones of pigeons, i must think that it is illogical to suppose that the variations, which natural selection preserves for the good of any being, have been designed. but i know that i am in the same sort of muddle (as i have said before) as all the world seems to be in with respect to free will, yet with everything supposed to have been foreseen or preordained." the shape of his nose would perhaps not have been used as an illustration, if he had remembered fitz-roy's objection to that feature (see _autobiography_, p. ). he should, too, have remembered the difficulty of predicting the value to an organism of an apparently unimportant character. in england professor huxley was at work in the evolutionary cause. he gave, in , two lectures at edinburgh on _man's place in nature_. my father wrote:-- "i am heartily glad of your success in the north. by jove, you have attacked bigotry in its stronghold. i thought you would have been mobbed. i am so glad that you will publish your lectures. you seem to have kept a due medium between extreme boldness and caution. i am heartily glad that all went off so well." a review,[ ] by f. w. hutton, afterwards professor of biology and geology at canterbury, n. z., gave a hopeful note of the time not far off when a broader view of the argument for evolution would be accepted. my father wrote to the author[ ]:-- down, april th, . dear sir,--i hope that you will permit me to thank you for sending me a copy of your paper in the _geologist_, and at the same time to express my opinion that you have done the subject a real service by the highly original, striking, and condensed manner with which you have put the case. i am actually weary of telling people that i do not pretend to adduce direct evidence of one species changing into another, but that i believe that this view in the main is correct, because so many phenomena can be thus grouped together and explained. but it is generally of no use, i cannot make persons see this. i generally throw in their teeth the universally admitted theory of the undulations of light--neither the undulations, nor the very existence of ether being proved--yet admitted because the view explains so much. you are one of the very few who have seen this, and have now put it most forcibly and clearly. i am much pleased to see how carefully you have read my book, and what is far more important, reflected on so many points with an independent spirit. as i am deeply interested in the subject (and i hope not exclusively under a personal point of view) i could not resist venturing to thank you for the right good service which you have done. pray believe me, dear sir, yours faithfully and obliged. it was a still more hopeful sign that work of the first rank in value, conceived on evolutionary principles, began to be published. my father expressed this idea in a letter to the late mr. bates.[ ] "under a general point of view, i am quite convinced (hooker and huxley took the same view some months ago) that a philosophic view of nature can solely be driven into naturalists by treating special subjects as you have done." this refers to mr. bates' celebrated paper on mimicry, with which the following letter deals:-- down nov. [ ]. dear bates,--i have just finished, after several reads, your paper.[ ] in my opinion it is one of the most remarkable and admirable papers i ever read in my life. the mimetic cases are truly marvellous, and you connect excellently a host of analogous facts. the illustrations are beautiful, and seem very well chosen; but it would have saved the reader not a little trouble, if the name of each had been engraved below each separate figure. no doubt this would have put the engraver into fits, as it would have destroyed the beauty of the plate. i am not at all surprised at such a paper having consumed much time. i am rejoiced that i passed over the whole subject in the _origin_, for i should have made a precious mess of it. you have most clearly stated and solved a wonderful problem. no doubt with most people this will be the cream of the paper; but i am not sure that all your facts and reasonings on variation, and on the segregation of complete and semi-complete species, is not really more, or at least as valuable a part. i never conceived the process nearly so clearly before; one feels present at the creation of new forms. i wish, however, you had enlarged a little more on the pairing of similar varieties; a rather more numerous body of facts seems here wanted. then, again, what a host of curious miscellaneous observations there are--as on related sexual and individual variability: these will some day, if i live, be a treasure to me. with respect to mimetic resemblance being so common with insects, do you not think it may be connected with their small size; they cannot defend themselves; they cannot escape by flight, at least, from birds, therefore they escape by trickery and deception? i have one serious criticism to make, and that is about the title of the paper; i cannot but think that you ought to have called prominent attention in it to the mimetic resemblances. your paper is too good to be largely appreciated by the mob of naturalists without souls; but, rely on it, that it will have _lasting_ value, and i cordially congratulate you on your first great work. you will find, i should think, that wallace will appreciate it. how gets on your book? keep your spirits up. a book is no light labour. i have been better lately, and working hard, but my health is very indifferent. how is your health? believe me, dear bates, yours very sincerely. . although the battle[ ] of evolution was not yet won, the growth of belief was undoubtedly rapid. so that, for instance, charles kingsley could write to f. d. maurice[ ]: "the state of the scientific mind is most curious; darwin is conquering everywhere, and rushing in like a flood, by the mere force of truth and fact." the change did not proceed without a certain amount of personal bitterness. my father wrote in february, :-- "what an accursed evil it is that there should be all this quarrelling within what ought to be the peaceful realms of science." i do not desire to keep alive the memories of dead quarrels, but some of the burning questions of that day are too important from the biographical point of view to be altogether omitted. of this sort is the history of lyell's conversion to evolution. it led to no flaw in the friendship of the two men principally concerned, but it shook and irritated a number of smaller people. lyell was like the mississippi in flood, and as he changed his course, the dwellers on the banks were angered and frightened by the general upsetting of landmarks. _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ down, feb. [ ]. my dear hooker,--i am astonished at your note. i have not seen the _athenæum_,[ ] but i have sent for it, and may get it to-morrow; and will then say what i think. i have read lyell's book. [_the antiquity of man._] the whole certainly struck me as a compilation, but of the highest class, for when possible the facts have been verified on the spot, making it almost an original work. the glacial chapters seem to me best, and in parts magnificent. i could hardly judge about man, as all the gloss and novelty was completely worn off. but certainly the aggregation of the evidence produced a very striking effect on my mind. the chapter comparing language and changes of species, seems most ingenious and interesting. he has shown great skill in picking out salient points in the argument for change of species; but i am deeply disappointed (i do not mean personally) to find that his timidity prevents him giving any judgment.... from all my communications with him, i must ever think that he has really entirely lost faith in the immutability of species; and yet one of his strongest sentences is nearly as follows; "if it should _ever_[ ] be rendered highly probable that species change by variation and natural selection," &c. &c. i had hoped he would have guided the public as far as his own belief went.... one thing does please me on this subject, that he seems to appreciate your work. no doubt the public or a part may be induced to think that, as he gives to us a larger space than to lamarck, he must think that there is something in our views. when reading the brain chapter, it struck me forcibly that if he had said openly that he believed in change of species, and as a consequence that man was derived from some quadrumanous animal, it would have been very proper to have discussed by compilation the differences in the most important organ, viz. the brain. as it is, the chapter seems to me to come in rather by the head and shoulders. i do not think (but then i am as prejudiced as falconer and huxley, or more so) that it is too severe; it struck me as given with judicial force. it might perhaps be said with truth that he had no business to judge on a subject on which he knows nothing; but compilers must do this to a certain extent. (you know i value and rank high compilers, being one myself!) the lyells are coming here on sunday evening to stay till wednesday. i dread it, but i must say how much disappointed i am that he has not spoken out on species, still less on man. and the best of the joke is that he thinks he has acted with the courage of a martyr of old. i hope i may have taken an exaggerated view of his timidity, and shall _particularly_ be glad of your opinion on this head. when i got his book i turned over the pages, and saw he had discussed the subject of species, and said that i thought he would do more to convert the public than all of us, and now (which makes the case worse for me) i must, in common honesty, retract. i wish to heaven he had said not a word on the subject. _c. d. to c. lyell_. down, march [ ]. ... i have been of course deeply interested by your book.[ ] i have hardly any remarks worth sending, but will scribble a little on what most interested me. but i will first get out what i hate saying, viz. that i have been greatly disappointed that you have not given judgment and spoken fairly out what you think about the derivation of species. i should have been contented if you had boldly said that species have not been separately created, and had thrown as much doubt as you like on how far variation and natural selection suffices. i hope to heaven i am wrong (and from what you say about whewell it seems so), but i cannot see how your chapters can do more good than an extraordinary able review. i think the _parthenon_ is right, that you will leave the public in a fog. no doubt they may infer that as you give more space to myself, wallace, and hooker, than to lamarck, you think more of us. but i had always thought that your judgment would have been an epoch in the subject. all that is over with me, and i will only think on the admirable skill with which you have selected the striking points, and explained them. no praise can be too strong, in my opinion, for the inimitable chapter on language in comparison with species.... i know you will forgive me for writing with perfect freedom, for you must know how deeply i respect you as my old honoured guide and master. i heartily hope and expect that your book will have a gigantic circulation, and may do in many ways as much good as it ought to do. i am tired, so no more. i have written so briefly that you will have to guess my meaning. i fear my remarks are hardly worth sending. farewell, with kindest remembrance to lady lyell, ever yours. a letter from lyell to hooker (mar. , ), published in lyell's _life and letters_, vol. ii. p. , shows what was his feeling at the time:-- "he [darwin] seems much disappointed that i do not go farther with him, or do not speak out more. i can only say that i have spoken out to the full extent of my present convictions, and even beyond my state of _feeling_ as to man's unbroken descent from the brutes, and i find i am half converting not a few who were in arms against darwin, and are even now against huxley." lyell speaks, too, of having had to abandon "old and long cherished ideas, which constituted the charm to me of the theoretical part of the science in my earlier days, when i believed with pascal in the theory, as hallam terms it, of 'the archangel ruined.'" _c. d. to c. lyell_. down, th [march, ]. my dear lyell,--i thank you for your very interesting and kind, i may say, charming letter. i feared you might be huffed for a little time with me. i know some men would have been so.... as you say that you have gone as far as you believe on the species question, i have not a word to say; but i must feel convinced that at times, judging from conversation, expressions, letters, &c., you have as completely given up belief in immutability of specific forms as i have done. i must still think a clear expression from you, _if you could have given it_, would have been potent with the public, and all the more so, as you formerly held opposite opinions. the more i work, the more satisfied i become with variation and natural selection, but that part of the case i look at as less important, though more interesting to me personally. as you ask for criticisms on this head (and believe me that i should not have made them unasked), i may specify (pp. , ) that such words as "mr. d. labours to show," "is believed by the author to throw light," would lead a common reader to think that you yourself do _not_ at all agree, but merely think it fair to give my opinion. lastly, you refer repeatedly to my view as a modification of lamarck's doctrine of development and progression. if this is your deliberate opinion there is nothing to be said, but it does not seem so to me. plato, buffon, my grandfather before lamarck, and others, propounded the _obvious_ view that if species were not created separately they must have descended from other species, and i can see nothing else in common between the _origin_ and lamarck. i believe this way of putting the case is very injurious to its acceptance, as it implies necessary progression, and closely connects wallace's and my views with what i consider, after two deliberate readings, as a wretched book, and one from which (i well remember my surprise) i gained nothing. but i know you rank it higher, which is curious, as it did not in the least shake your belief. but enough, and more than enough. please remember you have brought it all down on yourself!! i am very sorry to hear about falconer's "reclamation."[ ] i hate the very word, and have a sincere affection for him. did you ever read anything so wretched as the _athenæum_ reviews of you, and of huxley[ ] especially. your _object_ to make man old, and huxley's _object_ to degrade him. the wretched writer has not a glimpse of what the discovery of scientific truth means. how splendid some pages are in huxley, but i fear the book will not be popular.... in the _athenæum_, mar. , , p. , appeared a notice of dr. carpenter's book on 'foraminifera,' which led to more skirmishing in the same journal. the article was remarkable for upholding spontaneous generation. my father wrote, mar. , :-- "many thanks for _athenæum_, received this morning, and to be returned to-morrow morning. who would have ever thought of the old stupid _athenæum_ taking to oken-like transcendental philosophy written in owenian style! "it will be some time before we see 'slime, protoplasm, &c.' generating a new animal. but i have long regretted that i truckled to public opinion, and used the pentateuchal term of creation,[ ] by which i really meant 'appeared' by some wholly unknown process. it is mere rubbish, thinking at present of the origin of life; one might as well think of the origin of matter." the _athenæum_ continued to be a scientific battle-ground. on april , , falconer wrote a severe article on lyell. and my father wrote (_athenæum_, , p. ), under the cloak of attacking spontaneous generation, to defend evolution. in reply, an article appeared in the same journal (may nd, , p. ), accusing my father of claiming for his views the exclusive merit of "connecting by an intelligible thread of reasoning" a number of facts in morphology, &c. the writer remarks that, "the different generalisations cited by mr. darwin as being connected by an intelligible thread of reasoning exclusively through his attempt to explain specific transmutation are in fact related to it in this wise, that they have prepared the minds of naturalists for a better reception of such attempts to explain the way of the origin of species from species." to this my father replied as follows in the _athenæum_ of may th, :-- down, may [ ]. i hope that you will grant me space to own that your reviewer is quite correct when he states that any theory of descent will connect, "by an intelligible thread of reasoning," the several generalizations before specified. i ought to have made this admission expressly; with the reservation, however, that, as far as i can judge, no theory so well explains or connects these several generalizations (more especially the formation of domestic races in comparison with natural species, the principles of classification, embryonic resemblance, &c.) as the theory, or hypothesis, or guess, if the reviewer so likes to call it, of natural selection. nor has any other satisfactory explanation been ever offered of the almost perfect adaptation of all organic beings to each other, and to their physical conditions of life. whether the naturalist believes in the views given by lamarck, by geoffroy st. hilaire, by the author of the _vestiges_, by mr. wallace and myself, or in any other such view, signifies extremely little in comparison with the admission that species have descended from other species, and have not been created immutable; for he who admits this as a great truth has a wide field opened to him for further inquiry. i believe, however, from what i see of the progress of opinion on the continent, and in this country, that the theory of natural selection will ultimately be adopted, with, no doubt, many subordinate modifications and improvements. charles darwin. in the following, he refers to the above letter to the _athenæum_:-- _c. d. to j. d. hooker._ saturday [may , ]. my dear hooker,--you give good advice about not writing in newspapers; i have been gnashing my teeth at my own folly; and this not caused by ----'s sneers, which were so good that i almost enjoyed them. i have written once again to own to a certain extent of truth in what he says, and then if i am ever such a fool again, have no mercy on me. i have read the squib in _public opinion_;[ ] it is capital; if there is more, and you have a copy, do lend it. it shows well that a scientific man had better be trampled in dirt than squabble. in the following year ( ) he received the greatest honour which a scientific man can receive in this country, the copley medal of the royal society. it is presented at the anniversary meeting on st. andrew's day (nov. ), the medallist being usually present to receive it, but this the state of my father's health prevented. he wrote to mr. fox:-- "i was glad to see your hand-writing. the copley, being open to all sciences and all the world, is reckoned a great honour; but excepting from several kind letters, such things make little difference to me. it shows, however, that natural selection is making some progress in this country, and that pleases me. the subject, however, is safe in foreign lands." the presentation of the copley medal is of interest in connection with what has gone before, inasmuch as it led to sir c. lyell making, in his after-dinner speech, a "confession of faith as to the _origin_." he wrote to my father (_life of sir c. lyell_, vol. ii. p. ), "i said i had been forced to give up my old faith without thoroughly seeing my way to a new one. but i think you would have been satisfied with the length i went." lyell's acceptance of evolution was made public in the tenth edition of the _principles_, published in and . it was a sign of improvement, "a great triumph," as my father called it, that an evolutionary article by wallace, dealing with lyell's book, should have appeared in the _quarterly review_ (april, ). mr. wallace wrote:-- "the history of science hardly presents so striking an instance of youthfulness of mind in advanced life as is shown by this abandonment of opinions so long held and so powerfully advocated; and if we bear in mind the extreme caution, combined with the ardent love of truth which characterise every work which our author has produced, we shall be convinced that so great a change was not decided on without long and anxious deliberation, and that the views now adopted must indeed be supported by arguments of overwhelming force. if for no other reason than that sir charles lyell in his tenth edition has adopted it, the theory of mr. darwin deserves an attentive and respectful consideration from every earnest seeker after truth." the incident of the copley medal is interesting as giving an index of the state of the scientific mind at the time. my father wrote: "some of the old members of the royal are quite shocked at my having the copley." in the _reader_, december , , general sabine's presidential address at the anniversary meeting is reported at some length. special weight was laid on my father's work in geology, zoology, and botany, but the _origin of species_ was praised chiefly as containing a "mass of observations," &c. it is curious that as in the case of his election to the french institute, so in this case, he was honoured not for the great work of his life, but for his less important work in special lines. i believe i am right in saying that no little dissatisfaction at the president's manner of allusion to the _origin_ was felt by some fellows of the society. my father spoke justly when he said that the subject was "safe in foreign lands." in telling lyell of the progress of opinion, he wrote (march, ):-- "a first-rate german naturalist[ ] (i now forget the name!), who has lately published a grand folio, has spoken out to the utmost extent on the _origin_. de candolle, in a very good paper on 'oaks,' goes, in asa gray's opinion, as far as he himself does; but de candolle, in writing to me, says _we_, 'we think this and that;' so that i infer he really goes to the full extent with me, and tells me of a french good botanical palæontologist[ ] (name forgotten), who writes to de candolle that he is sure that my views will ultimately prevail. but i did not intend to have written all this. it satisfies me with the final results, but this result, i begin to see, will take two or three life-times. the entomologists are enough to keep the subject back for half a century." the official attitude of french science was not very hopeful. the secrétaire perpétuel of the académie published an _examen du livre de m. darwin_, on which my father remarks:-- "a great gun, flourens, has written a little dull book[ ] against me, which pleases me much, for it is plain that our good work is spreading in france." mr. huxley, who reviewed the book,[ ] quotes the following passage from flourens:-- "m. darwin continue: aucune distinction absolue n'a été et ne peut être établie entre les espèces et les variétés! je vous ai déjà dit que vous vous trompiez; une distinction absolue sépare les variétés d'avec les espèces." mr. huxley remarks on this, "being devoid of the blessings of an academy in england, we are unaccustomed to see our ablest men treated in this way even by a perpetual secretary." after demonstrating m. flourens' misapprehension of natural selection, mr. huxley says, "how one knows it all by heart, and with what relief one reads at p. , 'je laisse m. darwin.'" the deterrent effect of the académie on the spread of evolution in france has been most striking. even at the present day a member of the institute does not feel quite happy in owning to a belief in darwinism. we may indeed be thankful that we are "devoid of such a blessing." among the germans, he was fast gaining supporters. in he began a correspondence with the distinguished naturalist, fritz müller, then, as now, resident in brazil. they never met, but the correspondence with müller, which continued to the close of my father's life, was a source of very great pleasure to him. my impression is that of all his unseen friends fritz müller was the one for whom he had the strongest regard. fritz müller is the brother of another distinguished man, the late hermann müller, the author of _die befruchtung der blumen_ (the fertilisation of flowers), and of much other valuable work. the occasion of writing to fritz müller was the latter's book, _für darwin_, which was afterwards translated by mr. dallas at my father's suggestion, under the title _facts and arguments for darwin_. shortly afterwards, in , began his connection with professor victor carus, of leipzig, who undertook the translation of the th edition of the _origin_. from this time forward professor carus continued to translate my father's books into german. the conscientious care with which this work was done was of material service, and i well remember the admiration (mingled with a tinge of vexation at his own shortcomings) with which my father used to receive the lists of oversights, &c., which professor carus discovered in the course of translation. the connection was not a mere business one, but was cemented by warm feelings of regard on both sides. about this time, too, he came in contact with professor ernst haeckel, whose influence on german science has been so powerful. the earliest letter which i have seen from my father to professor haeckel, was written in , and from that time forward they corresponded (though not, i think, with any regularity) up to the end of my father's life. his friendship with haeckel was not merely the growth of correspondence, as was the case with some others, for instance, fritz müller. haeckel paid more than one visit to down, and these were thoroughly enjoyed by my father. the following letter will serve to show the strong feeling of regard which he entertained for his correspondent--a feeling which i have often heard him emphatically express, and which was warmly returned. the book referred to is haeckel's _generelle morphologie_, published in , a copy of which my father received from the author in january, . dr. e. krause[ ] has given a good account of professor haeckel's services in the cause of evolution. after speaking of the lukewarm reception which the _origin_ met with in germany on its first publication, he goes on to describe the first adherents of the new faith as more or less popular writers, not especially likely to advance its acceptance with the professorial or purely scientific world. and he claims for haeckel that it was his advocacy of evolution in his _radiolaria_ ( ), and at the "versammlung" of naturalists at stettin in , that placed the darwinian question for the first time publicly before the forum of german science, and his enthusiastic propagandism that chiefly contributed to its success. mr. huxley, writing in , paid a high tribute to professor haeckel as the coryphæus of the darwinian movement in germany. of his _generelle morphologie_, "an attempt to work out the practical applications" of the doctrine of evolution to their final results, he says that it has the "force and suggestiveness, and ... systematising power of oken without his extravagance." mr. huxley also testifies to the value of haeckel's _schöpfungs-geschichte_ as an exposition of the _generelle morphologie_ "for an educated public." again, in his _evolution in biology_,[ ] mr. huxley wrote: "whatever hesitation may not unfrequently be felt by less daring minds, in following haeckel in many of his speculations, his attempt to systematise the doctrine of evolution and to exhibit its influence as the central thought of modern biology, cannot fail to have a far-reaching influence on the progress of science." in the following letter my father alludes to the somewhat fierce manner in which professor haeckel fought the battle of 'darwinismus,' and on this subject dr. krause has some good remarks (p. ). he asks whether much that happened in the heat of the conflict might not well have been otherwise, and adds that haeckel himself is the last man to deny this. nevertheless he thinks that even these things may have worked well for the cause of evolution, inasmuch as haeckel "concentrated on himself by his _ursprung des menschen-geschlechts_, his _generelle morphologie_, and _schöpfungs-geschichte_, all the hatred and bitterness which evolution excited in certain quarters," so that, "in a surprisingly short time it became the fashion in germany that haeckel alone should be abused, while darwin was held up as the ideal of forethought and moderation." _c. d. to e. haeckel._ down, may , . dear haeckel,--your letter of the th has given me great pleasure, for you have received what i said in the most kind and cordial manner. you have in part taken what i said much stronger than i had intended. it never occurred to me for a moment to doubt that your work, with the whole subject so admirably and clearly arranged, as well as fortified by so many new facts and arguments, would not advance our common object in the highest degree. all that i think is that you will excite anger, and that anger so completely blinds every one that your arguments would have no chance of influencing those who are already opposed to our views. moreover, i do not at all like that you, towards whom i feel so much friendship, should unnecessarily make enemies, and there is pain and vexation enough in the world without more being caused. but i repeat that i can feel no doubt that your work will greatly advance our subject, and i heartily wish it could be translated into english, for my own sake and that of others. with respect to what you say about my advancing too strongly objections against my own views, some of my english friends think that i have erred on this side; but truth compelled me to write what i did, and i am inclined to think it was good policy. the belief in the descent theory is slowly spreading in england,[ ] even amongst those who can give no reason for their belief. no body of men were at first so much opposed to my views as the members of the london entomological society, but now i am assured that, with the exception of two or three old men, all the members concur with me to a certain extent. it has been a great disappointment to me that i have never received your long letter written to me from the canary islands. i am rejoiced to hear that your tour, which seems to have been a most interesting one, has done your health much good. ... i am very glad to hear that there is some chance of your visiting england this autumn, and all in this house will be delighted to see you here. believe me, my dear haeckel, yours very sincerely. i place here an extract from a letter of later date (nov. ), which refers to one of haeckel's later works.[ ] "your chapters on the affinities and genealogy of the animal kingdom strike me as admirable and full of original thought. your boldness, however, sometimes makes me tremble, but as huxley remarked, some one must be bold enough to make a beginning in drawing up tables of descent. although you fully admit the imperfection of the geological record, yet huxley agreed with me in thinking that you are sometimes rather rash in venturing to say at what periods the several groups first appeared. i have this advantage over you, that i remember how wonderfully different any statement on this subject made years ago, would have been to what would now be the case, and i expect the next years will make quite as great a difference." the following extract from a letter to professor w. preyer, a well-known physiologist, shows that he estimated at its true value the help he was to receive from the scientific workers of germany:-- march , . ... i am delighted to hear that you uphold the doctrine of the modification of species, and defend my views. the support which i receive from germany is my chief ground for hoping that our views will ultimately prevail. to the present day i am continually abused or treated with contempt by writers of my own country; but the younger naturalists are almost all on my side, and sooner or later the public must follow those who make the subject their special study. the abuse and contempt of ignorant writers hurts me very little.... i must now pass on to the publication, in , of his book on _the variation of animals and plants under domestication_. it was begun two days after the appearance of the second edition of the _origin_, on jan. , , and it may, i think, be reckoned that about half of the eight years that elapsed between its commencement and completion was spent on it. the book did not escape adverse criticism: it was said, for instance, that the public had been patiently waiting for mr. darwin's _pièces justicatives_, and that after eight years of expectation, all they got was a mass of detail about pigeons, rabbits and silk-worms. but the true critics welcomed it as an expansion with unrivalled wealth of illustration of a section of the _origin_. variation under the influence of man was the only subject (except the question of man's origin) which he was able to deal with in detail so as to utilise his full stores of knowledge. when we remember how important for his argument is a knowledge of the action of artificial selection, we may well rejoice that this subject was chosen by him for amplification. in , he wrote to sir joseph hooker: "i have begun looking over my old ms., and it is as fresh as if i had never written it; parts are astonishingly dull, but yet worth printing, i think; and other parts strike me as very good. i am a complete millionaire in odd and curious little facts, and i have been really astounded at my own industry whilst reading my chapters on inheritance and selection. god knows when the book will ever be completed, for i find that i am very weak, and on my best days cannot do more than one or one and a half hours' work. it is a good deal harder than writing about my dear climbing plants." in aug. , when lyell was reading the proofs of the book, my father wrote:-- "i thank you cordially for your last two letters. the former one did me _real_ good, for i had got so wearied with the subject that i could hardly bear to correct the proofs, and you gave me fresh heart. i remember thinking that when you came to the pigeon chapter you would pass it over as quite unreadable. i have been particularly pleased that you have noticed pangenesis. i do not know whether you ever had the feeling of having thought so much over a subject that you had lost all power of judging it. this is my case with pangenesis (which is or years old), but i am inclined to think that if it be admitted as a probable hypothesis it will be a somewhat important step in biology." his theory of pangenesis, by which he attempted to explain "how the characters of the parents are 'photographed' on the child, by means of material atoms derived from each cell in both parents, and developed in the child," has never met with much acceptance. nevertheless, some of his contemporaries felt with him about it. thus in february , he wrote to hooker:-- "i heard yesterday from wallace, who says (excuse horrid vanity), 'i can hardly tell you how much i admire the chapter on _pangenesis_. it is a _positive comfort_ to me to have any feasible explanation of a difficulty that has always been haunting me, and i shall never be able to give it up till a better one supplies its place, and that i think hardly possible.' now his foregoing [italicised] words express my sentiments exactly and fully: though perhaps i feel the relief extra strongly from having during many years vainly attempted to form some hypothesis. when you or huxley say that a single cell of a plant, or the stump of an amputated limb, has the 'potentiality' of reproducing the whole--or 'diffuses an influence,' these words give me no positive idea;--but, when it is said that the cells of a plant, or stump, include atoms derived from every other cell of the whole organism and capable of development, i gain a distinct idea." immediately after the publication of the book, he wrote: down, february [ ]. my dear hooker,--what is the good of having a friend, if one may not boast to him? i heard yesterday that murray has sold in a week the whole edition of copies of my book, and the sale so pressing that he has agreed with clowes to get another edition in fourteen days! this has done me a world of good, for i had got into a sort of dogged hatred of my book. and now there has appeared a review in the _pall mall_ which has pleased me excessively, more perhaps than is reasonable. i am quite content, and do not care how much i may be pitched into. if by any chance you should hear who wrote the article in the _pall mall_, do please tell me; it is some one who writes capitally, and who knows the subject. i went to luncheon on sunday, to lubbock's, partly in hopes of seeing you, and, be hanged to you, you were not there. your cock-a-hoop friend, c. d. independently of the favourable tone of the able series of notices in the _pall mall gazette_ (feb. , , , ), my father may well have been gratified by the following passages:-- "we must call attention to the rare and noble calmness with which he expounds his own views, undisturbed by the heats of polemical agitation which those views have excited, and persistently refusing to retort on his antagonists by ridicule, by indignation, or by contempt. considering the amount of vituperation and insinuation which has come from the other side, this forbearance is supremely dignified." and again in the third notice, feb. :-- "nowhere has the author a word that could wound the most sensitive self-love of an antagonist; nowhere does he, in text or note, expose the fallacies and mistakes of brother investigators ... but while abstaining from impertinent censure, he is lavish in acknowledging the smallest debts he may owe; and his book will make many men happy." i am indebted to messrs. smith and elder for the information that these articles were written by mr. g. h. lewes. the following extract from a letter (feb. ) to his friend professor newton, the well-known ornithologist, shows how much he valued the appreciation of his colleagues. "i suppose it would be universally held extremely wrong for a defendant to write to a judge to express his satisfaction at a judgment in his favour; and yet i am going thus to act. i have just read what you have said in the 'record'[ ] about my pigeon chapters, and it has gratified me beyond measure. i have sometimes felt a little disappointed that the labour of so many years seemed to be almost thrown away, for you are the first man capable of forming a judgment (excepting partly quatrefages), who seems to have thought anything of this part of my work. the amount of labour, correspondence, and care, which the subject cost me, is more than you could well suppose. i thought the article in the _athenæum_ was very unjust; but now i feel amply repaid, and i cordially thank you for your sympathy and too warm praise." work on man. in february , when the manuscript of _animals and plants_ had been sent to messrs. clowes to be printed, and before the proofs began to come in, he had an interval of spare time, and began a "chapter on man," but be soon found it growing under his hands, and determined to publish it separately as a "very small volume." it is remarkable that only four years before this date, namely in , he had given up hope of being able to work out this subject. he wrote to mr. wallace:-- "i have collected a few notes on man, but i do not suppose that i shall ever use them. do you intend to follow out your views, and if so, would you like at some future time to have my few references and notes? i am sure i hardly know whether they are of any value, and they are at present in a state of chaos. there is much more that i should like to write, but i have not strength." but this was at a period of ill-health; not long before, in , he had written in the same depressed tone about his future work generally:-- "i have been so steadily going downhill, i cannot help doubting whether i can ever crawl a little uphill again. unless i can, enough to work a little, i hope my life may be very short, for to lie on a sofa all day and do nothing but give trouble to the best and kindest of wives and good dear children is dreadful." the "chapter on man," which afterwards grew into the _descent of man_, was interrupted by the necessity of correcting the proofs of _animals and plants_, and by some botanical work, but was resumed with unremitting industry on the first available day in the following year. he could not rest, and he recognised with regret the gradual change in his mind that rendered continuous work more and more necessary to him as he grew older. this is expressed in a letter to sir j. d. hooker, june , , which repeats to some extent what is given in the _autobiography_:-- "i am glad you were at the _messiah_, it is the one thing that i should like to hear again, but i dare say i should find my soul too dried up to appreciate it as in old days; and then i should feel very flat, for it is a horrid bore to feel as i constantly do, that i am a withered leaf for every subject except science. it sometimes makes me hate science, though god knows i ought to be thankful for such a perennial interest, which makes me forget for some hours every day my accursed stomach." _the descent of man_ (and this is indicated on its title-page) consists of two separate books, namely on the pedigree of mankind, and on sexual selection in the animal kingdom generally. in studying this latter part of the subject he had to take into consideration the whole subject of colour. i give the two following characteristic letters, in which the reader is as it were present at the birth of a theory. _c. d. to a. r. wallace._ down, february [ ]. dear wallace,--i much regretted that i was unable to call on you, but after monday i was unable even to leave the house. on monday evening i called on bates, and put a difficulty before him, which he could not answer, and, as on some former similar occasion, his first suggestion was, "you had better ask wallace." my difficulty is, why are caterpillars sometimes so beautifully and artistically coloured? seeing that many are coloured to escape danger, i can hardly attribute their bright colour in other cases to mere physical conditions. bates says the most gaudy caterpillar he ever saw in amazonia (of a sphinx) was conspicuous at the distance of yards, from its black and red colours, whilst feeding on large green leaves. if any one objected to male butterflies having been made beautiful by sexual selection, and asked why should they not have been made beautiful as well as their caterpillars, what would you answer? i could not answer, but should maintain my ground. will you think over this, and some time, either by letter or when we meet, tell me what you think?... he seems to have received an explanation by return of post, for a day or two afterwards he could write to wallace:-- "bates was quite right; you are the man to apply to in a difficulty. i never heard anything more ingenious than your suggestion, and i hope you may be able to prove it true. that is a splendid fact about the white moths; it warms one's very blood to see a theory thus almost proved to be true." mr. wallace's suggestion was that conspicuous caterpillars or perfect insects (_e.g._ white butterflies), which are distasteful to birds, benefit by being promptly recognised and therefore easily avoided.[ ] the letter from darwin to wallace goes on: "the reason of my being so much interested just at present about sexual selection is, that i have almost resolved to publish a little essay on the origin of mankind, and i still strongly think (though i failed to convince you, and this, to me, is the heaviest blow possible) that sexual selection has been the main agent in forming the races of man. "by the way, there is another subject which i shall introduce in my essay, namely, expression of countenance. now, do you happen to know by any odd chance a very good-natured and acute observer in the malay archipelago, who you think would make a few easy observations for me on the expression of the malays when excited by various emotions?" the reference to the subject of expression in the above letter is explained by the fact, that my father's original intention was to give his essay on this subject as a chapter in the _descent of man_, which in its turn grew, as we have seen, out of a proposed chapter in _animals and plants_. he got much valuable help from dr. günther, of the natural history museum, to whom he wrote in may :-- "as i crawl on with the successive classes i am astonished to find how similar the rules are about the nuptial or 'wedding dress' of all animals. the subject has begun to interest me in an extraordinary degree; but i must try not to fall into my common error of being too speculative. but a drunkard might as well say he would drink a little and not too much! my essay, as far as fishes, batrachians and reptiles are concerned, will be in fact yours, only written by me." the last revise of the _descent of man_ was corrected on january th, , so that the book occupied him for about three years. he wrote to sir j. hooker: "i finished the last proofs of my book a few days ago; the work half-killed me, and i have not the most remote idea whether the book is worth publishing." he also wrote to dr. gray:-- "i have finished my book on the _descent of man_, &c., and its publication is delayed only by the index: when published, i will send you a copy, but i do not know that you will care about it. parts, as on the moral sense, will, i dare say, aggravate you, and if i hear from you, i shall probably receive a few stabs from your polished stiletto of a pen." the book was published on february , . copies were printed at first, and more before the end of the year. my father notes that he received for this edition £ . nothing can give a better idea (in a small compass) of the growth of evolutionism, and its position at this time, than a quotation from mr. huxley[ ]:-- "the gradual lapse of time has now separated us by more than a decade from the date of the publication of the _origin of species_; and whatever may be thought or said about mr. darwin's doctrines, or the manner in which he has propounded them, this much is certain, that in a dozen years the _origin of species_ has worked as complete a revolution in biological science as the _principia_ did in astronomy;" and it had done so, "because in the words of helmholtz, it contains 'an essentially new creative thought.' and, as time has slipped by, a happy change has come over mr. darwin's critics. the mixture of ignorance and insolence which at first characterised a large proportion of the attacks with which he was assailed, is no longer the sad distinction of anti-darwinian criticism." a passage in the introduction to the _descent of man_ shows that the author recognised clearly this improvement in the position of evolutionism. "when a naturalist like carl vogt ventures to say in his address, as president of the national institution of geneva ( ), 'personne, en europe au moins, n'ose plus soutenir la création indépendante et de toutes pièces, des espèces,' it is manifest that at least a large number of naturalists must admit that species are the modified descendants of other species; and this especially holds good with the younger and rising naturalists.... of the older and honoured chiefs in natural science, many, unfortunately, are still opposed to evolution in every form." in mr. james hague's pleasantly written article, "a reminiscence of mr. darwin" (_harper's magazine_, october ), he describes a visit to my father "early in ," shortly after the publication of the _descent of man_. mr. hague represents my father as "much impressed by the general assent with which his views had been received," and as remarking that "everybody is talking about it without being shocked." later in the year the reception of the book is described in different language in the _edinburgh review_: "on every side it is raising a storm of mingled wrath, wonder and admiration." haeckel seems to have been one of the first to write to my father about the _descent of man_. i quote from darwin's reply:-- "i must send you a few words to thank you for your interesting, and i may truly say, charming letter. i am delighted that you approve of my book, as far as you have read it. i felt very great difficulty and doubt how often i ought to allude to what you have published; strictly speaking every idea, although occurring independently to me, if published by you previously ought to have appeared as if taken from your works, but this would have made my book very dull reading; and i hoped that a full acknowledgment at the beginning would suffice.[ ] i cannot tell you how glad i am to find that i have expressed my high admiration of your labours with sufficient clearness; i am sure that i have not expressed it too strongly." in march he wrote to professor ray lankester:-- "i think you will be glad to hear, as a proof of the increasing liberality of england, that my book has sold wonderfully ... and as yet no abuse (though some, no doubt, will come, strong enough), and only contempt even in the poor old _athenæum_." about the same time he wrote to mr. murray:-- "many thanks for the _nonconformist_ [march , ]. i like to see all that is written, and it is of some real use. if you hear of reviewers in out-of-the-way papers, especially the religious, as _record_, _guardian_, _tablet_, kindly inform me. it is wonderful that there has been no abuse as yet. on the whole, the reviews have been highly favourable." the following extract from a letter to mr. murray (april , ) refers to a review in the _times_[ ]:-- "i have no idea who wrote the _times'_ review. he has no knowledge of science, and seems to me a wind-bag full of metaphysics and classics, so that i do not much regard his adverse judgment, though i suppose it will injure the sale." a striking review appeared in the _saturday review_ (march and , ) in which the position of evolution is well stated. "he claims to have brought man himself, his origin and constitution, within that unity which he had previously sought to trace through all lower animal forms. the growth of opinion in the interval, due in chief measure to his own intermediate works, has placed the discussion of this problem in a position very much in advance of that held by it fifteen years ago. the problem of evolution is hardly any longer to be treated as one of first principles: nor has mr. darwin to do battle for a first hearing of his central hypothesis, upborne as it is by a phalanx of names full of distinction and promise in either hemisphere." we must now return to the history of the general principle of evolution. at the beginning of [ ] he was at work on the fifth edition of the _origin_. the most important alterations were suggested by a remarkable paper in the _north british review_ (june, ) written by the late fleeming jenkin. it is not a little remarkable that the criticisms, which my father, as i believe, felt to be the most valuable ever made on his views should have come, not from a professed naturalist but from a professor of engineering. the point on which fleeming jenkin convinced my father is the extreme difficulty of believing that _single individuals_ which differ from their fellows in the possession of some useful character can be the starting point of a new variety. thus the origin of a new variety is more likely to be found in a species which presents the incipient character in a large number of its individuals. this point of view was of course perfectly familiar to him, it was this that induced him to study "unconscious selection," where a breed is formed by the long-continued preservation by man of all those individuals which are best adapted to his needs: not as in the art of the professed breeder, where a single individual is picked out to breed from. it is impossible to give in a short compass an account of fleeming jenkin's argument. my father's copy of the paper (ripped out of the volume as usual, and tied with a bit of string) is annotated in pencil in many places. i quote a passage opposite which my father has written "good sneers"--but it should be remembered that he used the word "sneer" in rather a special sense, not as necessarily implying a feeling of bitterness in the critic, but rather in the sense of "banter." speaking of the "true believer," fleeming jenkin says, p. :-- "he can invent trains of ancestors of whose existence there is no evidence; he can marshal hosts of equally imaginary foes; he can call up continents, floods, and peculiar atmospheres; he can dry up oceans, split islands, and parcel out eternity at will; surely with these advantages he must be a dull fellow if he cannot scheme some series of animals and circumstances explaining our assumed difficulty quite naturally. feeling the difficulty of dealing with adversaries who command so huge a domain of fancy, we will abandon these arguments, and trust to those which at least cannot be assailed by mere efforts of imagination." in the fifth edition of the _origin_, my father altered a passage in the historical sketch (fourth edition, p. xviii.). he thus practically gave up the difficult task of understanding whether or not sir r. owen claims to have discovered the principle of natural selection. adding, "as far as the more enunciation of the principle of natural selection is concerned, it is quite immaterial whether or not professor owen preceded me, for both of us ... were long ago preceded by dr. wells and mr. matthew." the desire that his views might spread in france was always strong with my father, and he was therefore justly annoyed to find that in the publisher of the french edition had brought out a third edition without consulting the author. he was accordingly glad to enter into an arrangement for a french translation of the fifth edition; this was undertaken by m. reinwald, with whom he continued to have pleasant relations as the publisher of many of his books in french. he wrote to sir j. d. hooker:-- "i must enjoy myself and tell you about mdlle. c. royer, who translated the _origin_ into french, and for whose second edition i took infinite trouble. she has now just brought out a third edition without informing me, so that all the corrections, &c., in the fourth and fifth english editions are lost. besides her enormously long preface to the first edition, she has added a second preface abusing me like a pickpocket for pangenesis, which of course has no relation to the _origin_. so i wrote to paris; and reinwald agrees to bring out at once a new translation from the fifth english edition, in competition with her third edition.... this fact shows that 'evolution of species' must at last be spreading in france." it will be well perhaps to place here all that remains to be said about the _origin of species_. the sixth or final edition was published in january in a smaller and cheaper form than its predecessors. the chief addition was a discussion suggested by mr. mivart's _genesis of species_, which appeared in , before the publication of the _descent of man_. the following quotation from a letter to wallace (july , ) may serve to show the spirit and method in which mr. mivart dealt with the subject. "i grieve to see the omission of the words by mivart, detected by wright.[ ] i complained to mivart that in two cases he quotes only the commencement of sentences by me, and thus modifies my meaning; but i never supposed he would have omitted words. there are other cases of what i consider unfair treatment." my father continues, with his usual charity and moderation:-- "i conclude with sorrow that though he means to be honourable, he is so bigoted that he cannot act fairly." in july , my father wrote to mr. wallace:-- "i feel very doubtful how far i shall succeed in answering mivart, it is so difficult to answer objections to doubtful points, and make the discussion readable. i shall make only a selection. the worst of it is, that i cannot possibly hunt through all my references for isolated points, it would take me three weeks of intolerably hard work. i wish i had your power of arguing clearly. at present i feel sick of everything, and if i could occupy my time and forget my daily discomforts, or rather miseries, i would never publish another word. but i shall cheer up, i dare say, soon, having only just got over a bad attack. farewell; god knows why i bother you about myself. i can say nothing more about missing-links than what i have said. i should rely much on pre-silurian times; but then comes sir w. thomson like an odious spectre.[ ] farewell. " ... there is a most cutting review of me in the [july] _quarterly_; i have only read a few pages. the skill and style make me think of mivart. i shall soon be viewed as the most despicable of men. this _quarterly review_ tempts me to republish ch. wright,[ ] even if not read by any one, just to show some one will say a word against mivart, and that his (_i.e._ mivart's) remarks ought not to be swallowed without some reflection.... god knows whether my strength and spirit will last out to write a chapter versus mivart and others; i do so hate controversy and feel i shall do it so badly." the _quarterly_ review was the subject of an article by mr. huxley in the november number of the _contemporary review_. here, also, are discussed mr. wallace's _contribution to the theory of natural selection_, and the second edition of mr. mivart's _genesis of species_. what follows is taken from mr. huxley's article. the _quarterly_ reviewer, though to some extent an evolutionist, believes that man "differs more from an elephant or a gorilla, than do these from the dust of the earth on which they tread." the reviewer also declares that darwin has "with needless opposition, set at naught the first principles of both philosophy and religion." mr. huxley passes from the _quarterly_ reviewer's further statement, that there is no necessary opposition between evolution and religion, to the more definite position taken by mr. mivart, that the orthodox authorities of the roman catholic church agree in distinctly asserting derivative creation, so that "their teachings harmonize with all that modern science can possibly require." here mr. huxley felt the want of that "study of christian philosophy" (at any rate, in its jesuitic garb), which mr. mivart speaks of, and it was a want he at once set to work to fill up. he was then staying at st. andrews, whence he wrote to my father:-- "by great good luck there is an excellent library here, with a good copy of suarez,[ ] in a dozen big folios. among these i dived, to the great astonishment of the librarian, and looking into them 'as careful robins eye the delver's toil' (_vide idylls_), i carried off the two venerable clasped volumes which were most promising." even those who know mr. huxley's unrivalled power of tearing the heart out of a book must marvel at the skill with which he has made suarez speak on his side. "so i have come out," he wrote, "in the new character of a defender of catholic orthodoxy, and upset mivart out of the mouth of his own prophet." the remainder of mr. huxley's critique is largely occupied with a dissection of the _quarterly_ reviewer's psychology, and his ethical views. he deals, too, with mr. wallace's objections to the doctrine of evolution by natural causes when applied to the mental faculties of man. finally, he devotes a couple of pages to justifying his description of the _quarterly_ reviewer's treatment of mr. darwin as alike "unjust and unbecoming."[ ] in the sixth edition my father also referred to the "direct action of the conditions of life" as a subordinate cause of modification in living things: on this subject he wrote to dr. moritz wagner (oct. , ): "in my opinion the greatest error which i have committed, has been not allowing sufficient weight to the direct action of the environment, _i.e._ food, climate, &c., independently of natural selection. modifications thus caused, which are neither of advantage nor disadvantage to the modified organism, would be especially favoured, as i can now see chiefly through your observations, by isolation, in a small area, where only a few individuals lived under nearly uniform conditions." it has been supposed that such statements indicate a serious change of front on my father's part. as a matter of fact the first edition of the _origin_ contains the words, "i am convinced that natural selection has been the main but not the exclusive means of modification." moreover, any alteration that his views may have undergone was due not to a change of opinion, but to change in the materials on which a judgment was to be formed. thus he wrote to wagner in the above quoted letter:-- "when i wrote the _origin_, and for some years afterwards, i could find little good evidence of the direct action of the environment; now there is a large body of evidence." with the possibility of such action of the environment he had of course been familiar for many years. thus he wrote to mr. davidson in :-- "my greatest trouble is, not being able to weigh the direct effects of the long-continued action of changed conditions of life without any selection, with the action of selection on mere accidental (so to speak) variability. i oscillate much on this head, but generally return to my belief that the direct action of the conditions of life has not been great. at least this direct action can have played an extremely small part in producing all the numberless and beautiful adaptations in every living creature." and to sir joseph hooker in the following year:-- "i hardly know why i am a little sorry, but my present work is leading me to believe rather more in the direct action of physical conditions. i presume i regret it, because it lessens the glory of natural selection, and is so confoundedly doubtful. perhaps i shall change again when i get all my facts under one point of view, and a pretty hard job this will be." reference has already been made to the growth of his book on the _expression of the emotions_ out of a projected chapter in the _descent of man_. it was published in the autumn of . the edition consisted of , and of these copies were sold at mr. murray's sale in november. two thousand were printed at the end of the year, and this proved a misfortune, as they did not afterwards sell so rapidly, and thus a mass of notes collected by the author was never employed for a second edition during his lifetime.[ ] as usual he had no belief in the possibility of the book being generally successful. the following passage in a letter to haeckel serves to show that he had felt the writing of this book as a somewhat severe strain:-- "i have finished my little book on expression, and when it is published in november i will of course send you a copy, in case you would like to read it for amusement. i have resumed some old botanical work, and perhaps i shall never again attempt to discuss theoretical views. "i am growing old and weak, and no man can tell when his intellectual powers begin to fail. long life and happiness to you for your own sake and for that of science." a good review by mr. wallace appeared in the _quarterly journal of science_, jan. . mr. wallace truly remarks that the book exhibits certain "characteristics of the author's mind in an eminent degree," namely, "the insatiable longing to discover the causes of the varied and complex phenomena presented by living things." he adds that in the case of the author "the restless curiosity of the child to know the 'what for?' the 'why?' and the 'how?' of everything" seems "never to have abated its force." the publication of the expression book was the occasion of the following letter to one of his oldest friends, the late mrs. haliburton, who was the daughter of a shropshire neighbour, mr. owen of woodhouse, and became the wife of the author of _sam slick_. nov. , . my dear mrs. haliburton,--i dare say you will be surprised to hear from me. my object in writing now is to say that i have just published a book on the _expression of the emotions in man and animals_; and it has occurred to me that you might possibly like to read some parts of it; and i can hardly think that this would have been the case with any of the books which i have already published. so i send by this post my present book. although i have had no communication with you or the other members of your family for so long a time, no scenes in my whole life pass so frequently or so vividly before my mind as those which relate to happy old days spent at woodhouse. i should very much like to hear a little news about yourself and the other members of your family, if you will take the trouble to write to me. formerly i used to glean some news about you from my sisters. i have had many years of bad health and have not been able to visit anywhere; and now i feel very old. as long as i pass a perfectly uniform life, i am able to do some daily work in natural history, which is still my passion, as it was in old days, when you used to laugh at me for collecting beetles with such zeal at woodhouse. excepting from my continued ill-health, which has excluded me from society, my life has been a very happy one; the greatest drawback being that several of my children have inherited from me feeble health. i hope with all my heart that you retain, at least to a large extent, the famous "owen constitution." with sincere feelings of gratitude and affection for all bearing the name of owen, i venture to sign myself, yours affectionately. charles darwin. footnotes: [ ] the historical sketch had already appeared in the first german edition ( ) and the american edition. bronn states in the german edition (footnote, p. ) that it was his critique in the _n. jahrbuch für mineralogie_ that suggested to my father the idea of such a sketch. [ ] hugh falconer, born , died . chiefly known as a palæontologist, although employed as a botanist during his whole career in india, where he was a medical officer in the h.e.i.c. service. [ ] in his letters to gray there are also numerous references to the american war. i give a single passage. "i never knew the newspapers so profoundly interesting. north america does not do england justice; i have not seen or heard of a soul who is not with the north. some few, and i am one of them, even wish to god, though at the loss of millions of lives, that the north would proclaim a crusade against slavery. in the long-run, a million horrid deaths would be amply repaid in the cause of humanity. what wonderful times we live in! massachusetts seems to show noble enthusiasm. great god! how i should like to see the greatest curse on earth--slavery--abolished!" [ ] this refers to the remarkable fact that many introduced european weeds have spread over large parts of the united states. [ ] _geologist_, , p. . [ ] the letter is published in a lecture by professor hutton given before the philosoph. institute, canterbury, n.z., sept th, . [ ] mr. bates is perhaps most widely known through his delightful _the naturalist on the amazons_. it was with regard to this book that my father wrote (april ) to the author:--"i have finished vol. i. my criticisms may be condensed into a single sentence, namely, that it is the best work of natural history travels ever published in england. your style seems to me admirable. nothing can be better than the discussion on the struggle for existence, and nothing better than the description of the forest scenery. it is a grand book, and whether or not it sells quickly, it will last. you have spoken out boldly on species; and boldness on the subject seems to get rarer and rarer. how beautifully illustrated it is." [ ] mr. bates' paper, 'contributions to an insect fauna of the amazons valley' (_linn. soc. trans._ xxiii. ), in which the now familiar subject of mimicry was founded. my father wrote a short review of it in the _natural history review_, , p. , parts of which occur almost verbatim in the later editions of the _origin of species_. a striking passage occurs in the review, showing the difficulties of the case from a creationist's point of view:-- "by what means, it may be asked, have so many butterflies of the amazonian region acquired their deceptive dress? most naturalists will answer that they were thus clothed from the hour of their creation--an answer which will generally be so far triumphant that it can be met only by long-drawn arguments; but it is made at the expense of putting an effectual bar to all further inquiry. in this particular case, moreover, the creationist will meet with special difficulties; for many of the mimicking forms of _leptalis_ can be shown by a graduated series to be merely varieties of one species; other mimickers are undoubtedly distinct species, or even distinct genera. so again, some of the mimicked forms can be shown to be merely varieties; but the greater number must be ranked as distinct species. hence the creationist will have to admit that some of these forms have become imitators, by means of the laws of variation, whilst others he must look at as separately created under their present guise; he will further have to admit that some have been created in imitation of forms not themselves created as we now see them, but due to the laws of variation! professor agassiz, indeed, would think nothing of this difficulty; for he believes that not only each species and each variety, but that groups of individuals, though identically the same, when inhabiting distinct countries, have been all separately created in due proportional numbers to the wants of each land. not many naturalists will be content thus to believe that varieties and individuals have been turned out all ready made, almost as a manufacturer turns out toys according to the temporary demand of the market." [ ] mr. huxley was as usual active in guiding and stimulating the growing tendency to tolerate or accept the views set forth in the _origin of species_. he gave a series of lectures to working men at the school of mines in november, . these were printed in from the shorthand notes of mr. may, as six little blue books, price _d._ each, under the title, _our knowledge of the causes of organic nature_. [ ] kingsley's _life_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] in the _antiquity of man_, first edition, p. , lyell criticised somewhat severely owen's account of the difference between the human and simian brains. the number of the _athenæum_ here referred to ( , p. ) contains a reply by professor owen to lyell's strictures. the surprise expressed by my father was at the revival of a controversy which every one believed to be closed. professor huxley (_medical times_, oct. th, , quoted in _man's place in nature_, p. ) spoke of the "two years during which this preposterous controversy has dragged its weary length." and this no doubt expressed a very general feeling. [ ] the italics are not lyell's. [ ] _the antiquity of man._ [ ] "falconer, whom i [lyell] referred to oftener than to any other author, says i have not done justice to the part he took in resuscitating the cave question, and says he shall come out with a separate paper to prove it. i offered to alter anything in the new edition, but this he declined."--c. lyell to c. darwin, march , ; lyell's _life_, vol ii. p. . [ ] _man's place in nature_, . [ ] this refers to a passage in which the reviewer of dr. carpenter's book speaks of "an operation of force," or "a concurrence of forces which have now no place in nature," as being, "a creative force, in fact, which darwin could only express in pentateuchal terms as the primordial form 'into which life was first breathed.'" the conception of expressing a creative force as a primordial form is the reviewer's. [ ] _public opinion_, april , , a lively account of a police case, in which the quarrels of scientific men are satirised. mr. john bull gives evidence that-- "the whole neighbourhood was unsettled by their disputes; huxley quarrelled with owen, owen with darwin, lyell with owen, falconer and prestwich with lyell, and gray the menagerie man with everybody. he had pleasure, however, in stating that darwin was the quietest of the set. they were always picking bones with each other and fighting over their gains. if either of the gravel sifters or stone breakers found anything, he was obliged to conceal it immediately, or one of the old bone collectors would be sure to appropriate it first and deny the theft afterwards, and the consequent wrangling and disputes were as endless as they were wearisome. "lord mayor.--probably the clergyman of the parish might exert some influence over them? "the gentleman smiled, shook his head, and stated that he regretted to say that no class of men paid so little attention to the opinions of the clergy as that to which these unhappy men belonged." [ ] no doubt haeckel, whose monograph on the radiolaria was published in . [ ] the marquis de saporta. [ ] _examen du livre de m. darwin sur l'origine des espèces_. par p. flourens. vo. paris, . [ ] _lay sermons_, p. . [ ] _charles darwin und sein verhältniss zu deutschland_, . [ ] an article in the _encyclopædia britannica_, th edit., reprinted in _science and culture_, , p. . [ ] in october, , he wrote to mr. wallace:--"mr. warrington has lately read an excellent and spirited abstract of the _origin_ before the victoria institute, and as this is a most orthodox body, he has gained the name of the devil's advocate. the discussion which followed during three consecutive meetings is very rich from the nonsense talked." [ ] _die natürliche schöpfungs-geschichte_, . it was translated and published in , under the title, _the history of creation_. [ ] _zoological record._ the volume for , published december, . [ ] mr. jenner weir's observations published in the _transactions of the entomological society_ ( and ) give strong support to the theory in question. [ ] _contemporary review_, . [ ] in the introduction to the _descent of man_ the author wrote:--"this last naturalist [haeckel] ... has recently ... published his _natürliche schöpfungs-geschichte_, in which he fully discusses the genealogy of man. if this work had appeared before my essay had been written, i should probably never have completed it. almost all the conclusions at which i have arrived, i find confirmed by this naturalist, whose knowledge on many points is much fuller than mine." [ ] april and , . [ ] his holiday this year was at caerdeon, on the north shore of the beautiful barmouth estuary, and pleasantly placed in being close to wild hill country behind, as well as to the picturesque wooded "hummocks," between the steeper hills and the river. my father was ill and somewhat depressed throughout this visit, and i think felt imprisoned and saddened by his inability to reach the hills over which he had once wandered for days together. he wrote from caerdeon to sir j. d. hooker (june nd):-- "we have been here for ten days, how i wish it was possible for you to pay us a visit here; we have a beautiful house with a terraced garden, and a really magnificent view of cader, right opposite. old cader is a grand fellow, and shows himself off superbly with every changing light. we remain here till the end of july, when the h. wedgwoods have the house. i have been as yet in a very poor way; it seems as soon as the stimulus of mental work stops, my whole strength gives way. as yet i have hardly crawled half a mile from the house, and then have been fearfully fatigued. it is enough to make one wish oneself quiet in a comfortable tomb." [ ] the late chauncey wright, in an article published in the _north american review_, vol. cxiii. pp. , . wright points out that the words omitted are "essential to the point on which he [mr. mivart] cites mr. darwin's authority." it should be mentioned that the passage from which words are omitted is not given within inverted commas by mr. mivart. [ ] my father, as an evolutionist, felt that he required more time than sir w. thomson's estimate of the age of the world allows. [ ] chauncey wright's review was published as a pamphlet in the autumn of . [ ] the learned jesuit on whom mr. mivart mainly relies. [ ] the same words may be applied to mr. mivart's treatment of my father. the following extract from a letter to mr. wallace (june th, ) refers to mr. mivart's statement (_lessons from nature_, p. ) that mr. darwin at first studiously disguised his views as to the "bestiality of man":-- "i have only just heard of and procured your two articles in the _academy_. i thank you most cordially for your generous defence of me against mr. mivart. in the _origin_ i did not discuss the derivation of any one species; but that i might not be accused of concealing my opinion, i went out of my way, and inserted a sentence which seemed to me (and still so seems) to disclose plainly my belief. this was quoted in my _descent of man_. therefore it is very unjust ... of mr. mivart to accuse me of base fraudulent concealment." [ ] they were utilised to some extent in the nd edition, edited by me, and published in .--f. d. chapter xv. miscellanea.--revival of geological work.--the vivisection question.--honours. in a second edition of his _coral reefs_ was published, which need not specially concern us. it was not until some time afterwards that the criticisms of my father's theory appeared, which have attracted a good deal of attention. the following interesting account of the subject is taken from professor's judd's "critical introduction" to messrs. ward, lock and co's. edition of _coral reefs_ and _volcanic islands, &c._[ ] "the first serious note of dissent to the generally accepted theory was heard in , when a distinguished german naturalist, dr. karl semper, declared that his study of the pelew islands showed that uninterrupted subsidence could not have been going on in that region. dr. semper's objections were very carefully considered by mr. darwin, and a reply to them appeared in the second and revised edition of his _coral reefs_, which was published in . with characteristic frankness and freedom from prejudices, darwin admitted that the facts brought forward by dr. semper proved that in certain specified cases, subsidence could not have played the chief part in originating the peculiar forms of the coral islands. but while making this admission, he firmly maintained that exceptional cases, like those described in the pelew islands, were not sufficient to invalidate the theory of subsidence as applied to the widely spread atolls, encircling reefs, and barrier-reefs of the pacific and indian oceans. it is worthy of note that to the end of his life darwin maintained a friendly correspondence with semper concerning the points on which they were at issue. "after the appearance of semper's work, dr. j. j. rein published an account of the bermudas, in which he opposed the interpretation of the structure of the islands given by nelson and other authors, and maintained that the facts observed in them are opposed to the views of darwin. although so far as i am aware, darwin had no opportunity of studying and considering these particular objections, it may be mentioned that two american geologists have since carefully re-examined the district--professor w. n. rice in and professor a. heilprin in --and they have independently arrived at the conclusion that dr. rein's objections cannot be maintained. "the most serious objection to darwin's coral-reef theory, however, was that which developed itself after the return of h.m.s. _challenger_ from her famous voyage. mr. john murray, one of the staff of naturalists on board that vessel, propounded a new theory of coral-reefs, and maintained that the view that they were formed by subsidence was one that was no longer tenable; these objections have been supported by professor alexander agassiz in the united states, and by dr. a. geikie, and dr. h. b. guppy in this country. "although mr. darwin did not live to bring out a third edition of his _coral reefs_, i know from several conversations with him that he had given the most patient and thoughtful consideration to mr. murray's paper on the subject. he admitted to me that had he known, when he wrote his work, of the abundant deposition of the remains of calcareous organisms on the sea floor, he might have regarded this cause as sufficient in a few cases to raise the summit of submerged volcanoes or other mountains to a level at which reef-forming corals can commence to flourish. but he did not think that the admission that under certain favourable conditions, atolls might be thus formed without subsidence, necessitated an abandonment of his theory in the case of the innumerable examples of the kind which stud the indian and pacific oceans. "a letter written by darwin to professor alexander agassiz in may , shows exactly the attitude which careful consideration of the subject led him to maintain towards the theory propounded by mr. murray:-- "'you will have seen,' he writes, 'mr. murray's views on the formation of atolls and barrier reefs. before publishing my book, i thought long over the same view, but only as far as ordinary marine organisms are concerned, for at that time little was known of the multitude of minute oceanic organisms. i rejected this view, as from the few dredgings made in the _beagle_, in the south temperate regions, i concluded that shells, the smaller corals, &c., decayed, and were dissolved, when not protected by the deposition of sediment, and sediment could not accumulate in the open ocean. certainly, shells, &c., were in several cases completely rotten, and crumbled into mud between my fingers; but you will know well whether this is in any degree common. i have expressly said that a bank at the proper depth would give rise to an atoll, which could not be distinguished from one formed during subsidence. i can, however, hardly believe in the former presence of as many banks (there having been no subsidence) as there are atolls in the great oceans, within a reasonable depth, on which minute oceanic organisms could have accumulated to the thickness of many hundred feet. "darwin's concluding words in the same letter written within a year of his death, are a striking proof of the candour and openness of mind which he preserved so well to the end, in this as in other controversies. "'if i am wrong, the sooner i am knocked on the head and annihilated so much the better. it still seems to me a marvellous thing that there should not have been much, and long continued, subsidence in the beds of the great oceans. i wish that some doubly rich millionaire would take it into his head to have borings made in some of the pacific and indian atolls, and bring home cores for slicing from a depth of or feet.' "it is noteworthy that the objections to darwin's theory have for the most part proceeded from zoologists, while those who have fully appreciated the geological aspect of the question have been the staunchest supporters of the theory of subsidence. the desirability of such boring operations in atolls has been insisted upon by several geologists, and it may be hoped that before many years have passed away, darwin's hopes may be realised, either with or without the intervention of the 'doubly rich millionaire.' "three years after the death of darwin, the veteran professor dana re-entered the lists and contributed a powerful defence of the theory of subsidence in the form of a reply to an essay written by the ablest exponent of the anti-darwinian views on this subject, dr. a. geikie. while pointing out that the darwinian position had been to a great extent misunderstood by its opponents, he showed that the rival theory presented even greater difficulties than those which it professed to remove. "during the last five years, the whole question of the origin of coral-reefs and islands has been re-opened, and a controversy has arisen, into which, unfortunately, acrimonious elements have been very unnecessarily introduced. those who desire it, will find clear and impartial statements of the varied and often mutually destructive views put forward by different authors, in three works which have made their appearance within the last year--_the bermuda islands_, by professor angelo heilprin: _corals and coral islands_, new edition by professor j. d. dana; and the third edition of darwin's _coral-reefs_, with notes and appendix by professor t. g. bonney. "most readers will, i think, rise from the perusal of these works with the conviction that, while on certain points of detail it is clear that, through the want of knowledge concerning the action of marine organisms in the open ocean, darwin was betrayed into some grave errors, yet the main foundations of his argument have not been seriously impaired by the new facts observed in the deep-sea researches, or by the severe criticisms to which his theory has been subjected during the last ten years. on the other hand, i think it will appear that much misapprehension has been exhibited by some of darwin's critics, as to what his views and arguments really were; so that the reprint and wide circulation of the book in its original form is greatly to be desired, and cannot but be attended with advantage to all those who will have the fairness to acquaint themselves with darwin's views at first hand, before attempting to reply to them." the only important geological work of my father's later years is embodied in his book on earthworms ( ), which may therefore be conveniently considered in this place. this subject was one which had interested him many years before this date, and in a paper on the formation of mould was published in the _proceedings of the geological society_. here he showed that "fragments of burnt marl, cinders, &c., which had been thickly strewed over the surface of several meadows were found after a few years lying at a depth of some inches beneath the turf, but still forming a layer." for the explanation of this fact, which forms the central idea of the geological part of the book, he was indebted to his uncle josiah wedgwood, who suggested that worms, by bringing earth to the surface in their castings, must undermine any objects lying on the surface and cause an apparent sinking. in the book of he extended his observations on this burying action, and devised a number of different ways of checking his estimates as to the amount of work done. he also added a mass of observations on the natural history and intelligence of worms, a part of the work which added greatly to its popularity. in sir thomas farrer had discovered close to his garden the remains of a building of roman-british times, and thus gave my father the opportunity of seeing for himself the effects produced by earthworms on the old concrete floors, walls, &c. on his return he wrote to sir thomas farrer:-- "i cannot remember a more delightful week than the last. i know very well that e. will not believe me, but the worms were by no means the sole charm." in the autumn of , when the _power of movement in plants_ was nearly finished, he began once more on the subject. he wrote to professor carus (september ):-- "in the intervals of correcting the press, i am writing a very little book, and have done nearly half of it. its title will be (as at present designed), _the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms_.[ ] as far as i can judge, it will be a curious little book." the manuscript was sent to the printers in april , and when the proof-sheets were coming in he wrote to professor carus: "the subject has been to me a hobby-horse, and i have perhaps treated it in foolish detail." it was published on october , and copies were sold at once. he wrote to sir j. d. hooker, "i am glad that you approve of the _worms_. when in old days i used to tell you whatever i was doing, if you were at all interested, i always felt as most men do when their work is finally published." to mr. mellard reade he wrote (november ): "it has been a complete surprise to me how many persons have cared for the subject." and to mr. dyer (in november): "my book has been received with almost laughable enthusiasm, and copies have been sold!!!" again to his friend mr. anthony rich, he wrote on february , , "i have been plagued with an endless stream of letters on the subject; most of them very foolish and enthusiastic; but some containing good facts which i have used in correcting yesterday the _sixth thousand_." the popularity of the book may be roughly estimated by the fact that, in the three years following its publication, copies were sold--a sale relatively greater than that of the _origin of species_. it is not difficult to account for its success with the non-scientific public. conclusions so wide and so novel, and so easily understood, drawn from the study of creatures so familiar, and treated with unabated vigour and freshness, may well have attracted many readers. a reviewer remarks: "in the eyes of most men ... the earthworm is a mere blind, dumbsenseless, and unpleasantly slimy annelid. mr. darwin under-takes to rehabilitate his character, and the earthworm steps forth at once as an intelligent and beneficent personage, a worker of vast geological changes, a planer down of mountain sides ... a friend of man ... and an ally of the society for the preservation of ancient monuments." the _st. james's gazette_, of october th, , pointed out that the teaching of the cumulative importance of the infinitely little is the point of contact between this book and the author's previous work. one more book remains to be noticed, the _life of erasmus darwin_. in february an essay by dr. ernst krause, on the scientific work of erasmus darwin, appeared in the evolutionary journal, _kosmos_. the number of _kosmos_ in question was a "gratulationsheft,"[ ] or special congratulatory issue in honour of my father's birthday, so that dr. krause's essay, glorifying the older evolutionist, was quite in its place. he wrote to dr. krause, thanking him cordially for the honour paid to erasmus, and asking his permission to publish an english translation of the essay. his chief reason for writing a notice of his grandfather's life was "to contradict flatly some calumnies by miss seward." this appears from a letter of march , , to his cousin reginald darwin, in which he asks for any documents and letters which might throw light on the character of erasmus. this led to mr. reginald darwin placing in my father's hands a quantity of valuable material, including a curious folio common-place book, of which he wrote: "i have been deeply interested by the great book, ... reading and looking at it is like having communion with the dead ... [it] has taught me a good deal about the occupations and tastes of our grandfather." dr. krause's contribution formed the second part of the _life of erasmus darwin_, my father supplying a "preliminary notice." this expression on the title-page is somewhat misleading; my father's contribution is more than half the book, and should have been described as a biography. work of this kind was new to him, and he wrote doubtfully to mr. thiselton dyer, june th: "god only knows what i shall make of his life, it is such a new kind of work to me." the strong interest he felt about his forbears helped to give zest to the work, which became a decided enjoyment to him. with the general public the book was not markedly successful, but many of his friends recognised its merits. sir j. d. hooker was one of these, and to him my father wrote, "your praise of the life of dr. d. has pleased me exceedingly, for i despised my work, and thought myself a perfect fool to have undertaken such a job." to mr. galton, too, he wrote, november :-- "i am extremely glad that you approve of the little _life_ of our grandfather, for i have been repenting that i ever undertook it, as the work was quite beyond my tether." the vivisection question. something has already been said of my father's strong feeling with regard to suffering[ ] both in man and beast. it was indeed one of the strongest feelings in his nature, and was exemplified in matters small and great, in his sympathy with the educational miseries of dancing dogs, or his horror at the sufferings of slaves. the remembrance of screams, or other sounds heard in brazil, when he was powerless to interfere with what he believed to be the torture of a slave, haunted him for years, especially at night. in smaller matters, where he could interfere, he did so vigorously. he returned one day from his walk pale and faint from having seen a horse ill-used, and from the agitation of violently remonstrating with the man. on another occasion he saw a horse-breaker teaching his son to ride; the little boy was frightened and the man was rough; my father stopped, and jumping out of the carriage reproved the man in no measured terms. one other little incident may be mentioned, showing that his humanity to animals was well known in his own neighbourhood. a visitor, driving from orpington to down, told the cabman to go faster. "why," said the man, "if i had whipped the horse _this_ much, driving mr. darwin, he would have got out of the carriage and abused me well." with respect to the special point under consideration,--the sufferings of animals subjected to experiment,--nothing could show a stronger feeling than the following words from a letter to professor ray lankester (march , ):-- "you ask about my opinion on vivisection. i quite agree that it is justifiable for real investigations on physiology; but not for mere damnable and detestable curiosity. it is a subject which makes me sick with horror, so i will not say another word about it, else i shall not sleep to-night." the anti-vivisection agitation, to which the following letters refer, seems to have become specially active in , as may be seen, _e.g._ by the index to _nature_ for that year, in which the word "vivisection" suddenly comes into prominence. but before that date the subject had received the earnest attention of biologists. thus at the liverpool meeting of the british association in , a committee was appointed, whose report defined the circumstances and conditions under which, in the opinion of the signatories, experiments on living animals were justifiable. in the spring of , lord hartismere introduced a bill into the upper house to regulate the course of physiological research. shortly afterwards a bill more just towards science in its provisions was introduced to the house of commons by messrs. lyon playfair, walpole, and ashley. it was, however, withdrawn on the appointment of a royal commission to inquire into the whole question. the commissioners were lords cardwell and winmarleigh, mr. w. e. forster, sir j. b. karslake, mr. huxley, professor erichssen, and mr. r. h. hutton: they commenced their inquiry in july, , and the report was published early in the following year. in the early summer of , lord carnarvon's bill, entitled, "an act to amend the law relating to cruelty to animals," was introduced. the framers of this bill, yielding to the unreasonable clamour of the public, went far beyond the recommendations of the royal commission. as a correspondent writes in _nature_ ( , p. ), "the evidence on the strength of which legislation was recommended went beyond the facts, the report went beyond the evidence, the recommendations beyond the report; and the bill can hardly be said to have gone beyond the recommendations; but rather to have contradicted them." the legislation which my father worked for, was practically what was introduced as dr. lyon playfair's bill. the following letter appeared in the times, april th, :-- _c. d. to frithiof holmgren._[ ] down, april , . dear sir,--in answer to your courteous letter of april , i have no objection to express my opinion with respect to the right of experimenting on living animals. i use this latter expression as more correct and comprehensive than that of vivisection. you are at liberty to make any use of this letter which you may think fit, but if published i should wish the whole to appear. i have all my life been a strong advocate for humanity to animals, and have done what i could in my writings to enforce this duty. several years ago, when the agitation against physiologists commenced in england, it was asserted that inhumanity was here practised, and useless suffering caused to animals; and i was led to think that it might be advisable to have an act of parliament on the subject. i then took an active part in trying to get a bill passed, such as would have removed all just cause of complaint, and at the same time have left physiologists free to pursue their researches--a bill very different from the act which has since been passed. it is right to add that the investigation of the matter by a royal commission proved that the accusations made against our english physiologists were false. from all that i have heard, however, i fear that in some parts of europe little regard is paid to the sufferings of animals, and if this be the case, i should be glad to hear of legislation against inhumanity in any such country. on the other hand, i know that physiology cannot possibly progress except by means of experiments on living animals, and i feel the deepest conviction that he who retards the progress of physiology commits a crime against mankind. any one who remembers, as i can, the state of this science half a century ago must admit that it has made immense progress, and it is now progressing at an ever-increasing rate. what improvements in medical practice may be directly attributed to physiological research is a question which can be properly discussed only by those physiologists and medical practitioners who have studied the history of their subjects; but, as far as i can learn, the benefits are already great. however this may be, no one, unless he is grossly ignorant of what science has done for mankind, can entertain any doubt of the incalculable benefits which will hereafter be derived from physiology, not only by man, but by the lower animals. look for instance at pasteur's results in modifying the germs of the most malignant diseases, from which, as it happens, animals will in the first place receive more relief than man. let it be remembered how many lives and what a fearful amount of suffering have been saved by the knowledge gained of parasitic worms through the experiments of virchow and others on living animals. in the future every one will be astonished at the ingratitude shown, at least in england, to these benefactors of mankind. as for myself, permit me to assure you that i honour, and shall always honour, every one who advances the noble science of physiology. dear sir, yours faithfully. in the _times_ of the following day appeared a letter headed "mr. darwin and vivisection," signed by miss frances power cobbe. to this my father replied in the _times_ of april , . on the same day he wrote to mr. romanes:-- "as i have a fair opportunity, i sent a letter to the _times_ on vivisection, which is printed to-day. i thought it fair to bear my share of the abuse poured in so atrocious a manner on all physiologists." _c. d. to the editor of the 'times.'_ sir,--i do not wish to discuss the views expressed by miss cobbe in the letter which appeared in the _times_ of the th inst.; but as she asserts that i have "misinformed" my correspondent in sweden in saying that "the investigation of the matter by a royal commission proved that the accusations made against our english physiologists were false," i will merely ask leave to refer to some other sentences from the report of the commission. ( .) the sentence--"it is not to be doubted that inhumanity may be found in persons of very high position as physiologists," which miss cobbe quotes from page of the report, and which, in her opinion, "can necessarily concern english physiologists alone and not foreigners," is immediately followed by the words "we have seen that it was so in magendie." magendie was a french physiologist who became notorious some half century ago for his cruel experiments on living animals. ( .) the commissioners, after speaking of the "general sentiment of humanity" prevailing in this country, say (p. ):-- "this principle is accepted generally by the very highly educated men whose lives are devoted either to scientific investigation and education or to the mitigation or the removal of the sufferings of their fellow-creatures; though differences of degree in regard to its practical application will be easily discernible by those who study the evidence as it has been laid before us." again, according to the commissioners (p. ):-- "the secretary of the royal society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, when asked whether the general tendency of the scientific world in this country is at variance with humanity, says he believes it to be very different indeed from that of foreign physiologists; and while giving it as the opinion of the society that experiments are performed which are in their nature beyond any legitimate province of science, and that the pain which they inflict is pain which it is not justifiable to inflict even for the scientific object in view, he readily acknowledges that he does not know a single case of wanton cruelty, and that in general the english physiologists have used anæsthetics where they think they can do so with safety to the experiment." i am, sir, your obedient servant. april . during the later years of my father's life there was a growing tendency in the public to do him honour.[ ] the honours which he valued most highly were those which united the sympathy of friends with a mark of recognition of his scientific colleagues. of this type was the article "charles darwin," published in _nature_, june , , and written by asa gray. this admirable estimate of my father's work in science is given in the form of a comparison and contrast between robert brown and charles darwin. to gray he wrote:-- "i wrote yesterday and cannot remember exactly what i said, and now cannot be easy without again telling you how profoundly i have been gratified. every one, i suppose, occasionally thinks that he has worked in vain, and when one of these fits overtakes me, i will think of your article, and if that does not dispel the evil spirit, i shall know that i am at the time a little bit insane, as we all are occasionally. "what you say about teleology[ ] pleases me especially, and i do not think any one else has ever noticed the point. i have always said you were the man to hit the nail on the head." in he received the honorary degree of ll.d. from the university of cambridge. the degree was conferred on november , and with the customary latin speech from the public orator, concluding with the words: "tu vero, qui leges naturæ tam docte illustraveris, legum doctor nobis esto." the honorary degree led to a movement being set on foot in the university to obtain some permanent memorial of my father. in june he sat to mr. w. richmond for the portrait in the possession of the university, now placed in the library of the philosophical society at cambridge. a similar wish on the part of the linnean society--with which my father was so closely associated--led to his sitting in august, , to mr. john collier, for the portrait now in the possession of the society. the portrait represents him standing facing the observer in the loose cloak so familiar to those who knew him, with his slouch hat in his hand. many of those who knew his face most intimately, think that mr. collier's picture is the best of the portraits, and in this judgment the sitter himself was inclined to agree. according to my feeling it is not so simple or strong a representation of him as that given by mr. ouless. the last-named portrait was painted at down in ; it is in the possession of the family,[ ] and is known to many through rajon's fine etching. of mr. ouless's picture my father wrote to sir j. d. hooker: "i look a very venerable, acute, melancholy old dog; whether i really look so i do not know." besides the cambridge degree, he received about the same time honours of an academic kind from some foreign societies. on august , , he was elected a corresponding member of the french institute in the botanical section,[ ] and wrote to dr. asa gray:-- "i see that we are both elected corresponding members of the institute. it is rather a good joke that i should be elected in the botanical section, as the extent of my knowledge is little more than that a daisy is a compositous plant and a pea a leguminous one." he valued very highly two photographic albums containing portraits of a large number of scientific men in germany and holland, which he received as birthday gifts in . in the year my father received a singular mark of recognition in the form of a letter from a stranger, announcing that the writer intended to leave to him the reversion of the greater part of his fortune. mr. anthony rich, who desired thus to mark his sense of my father's services to science, was the author of a _dictionary of roman and greek antiquities_, said to be the best book of the kind. it has been translated into french, german, and italian, and has, in english, gone through several editions. mr. rich lived a great part of his life in italy, painting, and collecting books and engravings. he finally settled, many years ago, at worthing (then a small village), where he was a friend of byron's trelawny. my father visited mr. rich at worthing, more than once, and gained a cordial liking and respect for him. mr. rich died in april, , having arranged that his bequest[ ] should not lapse in consequence of the predecease of my father. in he received from the royal academy of turin the _bressa_ prize for the years - , amounting to the sum of , francs. he refers to this in a letter to dr. dohrn (february th, ):-- "perhaps you saw in the papers that the turin society honoured me to an extraordinary degree by awarding me the _bressa_ prize. now it occurred to me that if your station wanted some piece of apparatus, of about the value of £ , i should very much like to be allowed to pay for it. will you be so kind as to keep this in mind, and if any want should occur to you, i would send you a cheque at any time." i find from my father's accounts that £ was presented to the naples station. two years before my father's death, and twenty-one years after the publication of his greatest work, a lecture was given (april , ) at the royal institution by mr. huxley[ ] which was aptly named "the coming of age of the origin of species." the following characteristic letter, inferring to this subject, may fitly close the present chapter. abinger hall, dorking, sunday, april , . my dear huxley,--i wished much to attend your lecture, but i have had a bad cough, and we have come here to see whether a change would do me good, as it has done. what a magnificent success your lecture seems to have been, as i judge from the reports in the _standard_ and _daily news_, and more especially from the accounts given me by three of my children. i suppose that you have not written out your lecture, so i fear there is no chance of its being printed _in extenso_. you appear to have piled, as on so many other occasions, honours high and thick on my old head. but i well know how great a part you have played in establishing and spreading the belief in the descent-theory, ever since that grand review in the _times_ and the battle royal at oxford up to the present day. ever, my dear huxley, yours sincerely and gratefully, charles darwin. p.s.--it was absurdly stupid in me, but i had read the announcement of your lecture, and thought that you meant the maturity of the subject, until my wife one day remarked, "it is almost twenty-one years since the _origin_ appeared," and then for the first time the meaning of your words flashed on me. footnotes: [ ] _the minerva library of famous books_, , edited by g. t. bettany. [ ] the full title is _the formation of vegetable mould through the action of worms, with observations on their habits_, . [ ] the same number contains a good biographical sketch of my father of which the material was to a large extent supplied by him to the writer, professor preyer of jena. the article contains an excellent list of my father's publications. [ ] he once made an attempt to free a patient in a mad-house, who (as he wrongly supposed) was sane. he was in correspondence with the gardener at the asylum, and on one occasion he found a letter from the patient enclosed with one from the gardener. the letter was rational in tone and declared that the writer was sane and wrongfully confined. my father wrote to the lunacy commissioners (without explaining the source of his information) and in due time heard that the man had been visited by the commissioners, and that he was certainly insane. some time afterward the patient was discharged, and wrote to thank my father for his interference, adding that he had undoubtedly been insane when he wrote his former letter. [ ] professor of physiology at upsala. [ ] in he had received a distinguished honour from germany,--the order "pour le mérite." [ ] "let us recognise darwin's great service to natural science in bringing back to it teleology; so that instead of morphology _versus_ teleology, we shall have morphology wedded to teleology." similar remarks had been previously made by mr. huxley. see _critiques and addresses_, p. . [ ] a _replica_ by the artist hangs alongside of the portraits of milton and paley in the hall of christ's college, cambridge. [ ] he received twenty-six votes out of a possible thirty-nine, five blank papers were sent in, and eight votes were recorded for the other candidates. in an attempt had been made to elect him in the section of zoology, when, however, he only received fifteen out of forty-eight votes, and lovén was chosen for the vacant place. it appears (_nature_, august st, ) that an eminent member of the academy wrote to _les mondes_ to the following effect:-- "what has closed the doors of the academy to mr. darwin is that the science of those of his books which have made his chief title to fame--the _origin of species_, and still more the _descent of man_, is not science, but a mass of assertions and absolutely gratuitous hypotheses, often evidently fallacious. this kind of publication and these theories are a bad example, which a body that respects itself cannot encourage." [ ] mr. rich leaves a single near relative, to whom is bequeathed the life-interest in his property. [ ] published in _science and culture_, p. . botanical work. "i have been making some little trifling observations which have interested and perplexed me much." from a letter of june . chapter xvi. fertilisation of flowers. the botanical work which my father accomplished by the guidance of the light cast on the study of natural history by his own work on evolution remains to be noticed. in a letter to mr. murray, september th, , speaking of his book the _fertilisation of orchids_, he says: "it will perhaps serve to illustrate how natural history may be worked under the belief of the modification of species." this remark gives a suggestion as to the value and interest of his botanical work, and it might be expressed in far more emphatic language without danger of exaggeration. in the same letter to mr. murray, he says: "i think this little volume will do good to the _origin_, as it will show that i have worked hard at details." it is true that his botanical work added a mass of corroborative detail to the case for evolution, but the chief support given to his doctrines by these researches was of another kind. they supplied an argument against those critics who have so freely dogmatised as to the uselessness of particular structures, and as to the consequent impossibility of their having been developed by means of natural selection. his observations on orchids enabled him to say: "i can show the meaning of some of the apparently meaningless ridges and horns; who will now venture to say that this or that structure is useless?" a kindred point is expressed in a letter to sir j. d. hooker (may th, ):-- "when many parts of structure, as in the woodpecker, show distinct adaptation to external bodies, it is preposterous to attribute them to the effects of climate, &c., but when a single point alone, as a hooked seed, it is conceivable it may thus have arisen. i have found the study of orchids eminently useful in showing me how nearly all parts of the flower are co-adapted for fertilisation by insects, and therefore the results of natural selection,--even the most trifling details of structure." one of the greatest services rendered by my father to the study of natural history is the revival of teleology. the evolutionist studies the purpose or meaning of organs with the zeal of the older teleologist, but with far wider and more coherent purpose. he has the invigorating knowledge that he is gaining not isolated conceptions of the economy of the present, but a coherent view of both past and present. and even where he fails to discover the use of any part, he may, by a knowledge of its structure, unravel the history of the past vicissitudes in the life of the species. in this way a vigour and unity is given to the study of the forms of organised beings, which before it lacked. mr. huxley has well remarked:[ ] "perhaps the most remarkable service to the philosophy of biology rendered by mr. darwin is the reconciliation of teleology and morphology, and the explanation of the facts of both, which his views offer. the teleology which supposes that the eye, such as we see it in man, or one of the higher vertebrata, was made with the precise structure it exhibits, for the purpose of enabling the animal which possesses it to see, has undoubtedly received its death-blow. nevertheless, it is necessary to remember that there is a wider teleology which is not touched by the doctrine of evolution, but is actually based upon the fundamental proposition of evolution." the point which here especially concerns us is to recognise that this "great service to natural science," as dr. gray describes it, was effected almost as much by darwin's special botanical work as by the _origin of species_. for a statement of the scope and influence of my father's botanical work, i may refer to mr. thiselton dyer's article in 'charles darwin,' one of the _nature series_. mr. dyer's wide knowledge, his friendship with my father, and his power of sympathising with the work of others, combine to give this essay a permanent value. the following passage (p. ) gives a true picture:-- "notwithstanding the extent and variety of his botanical work, mr. darwin always disclaimed any right to be regarded as a professed botanist. he turned his attention to plants, doubtless because they were convenient objects for studying organic phenomena in their least complicated forms; and this point of view, which, if one may use the expression without disrespect, had something of the amateur about it, was in itself of the greatest importance. for, from not being, till he took up any point, familiar with the literature bearing on it, his mind was absolutely free from any prepossession. he was never afraid of his facts, or of framing any hypothesis, however startling, which seemed to explain them.... in any one else such an attitude would have produced much work that was crude and rash. but mr. darwin--if one may venture on language which will strike no one who had conversed with him as over-strained--seemed by gentle persuasion to have penetrated that reserve of nature which baffles smaller men. in other words, his long experience had given him a kind of instinctive insight into the method of attack of any biological problem, however unfamiliar to him, while he rigidly controlled the fertility of his mind in hypothetical explanations by the no less fertility of ingeniously devised experiment." to form any just idea of the greatness of the revolution worked by my father's researches in the study of the fertilisation of flowers, it is necessary to know from what a condition this branch of knowledge has emerged. it should be remembered that it was only during the early years of the present century that the idea of sex, as applied to plants, became firmly established. sachs, in his _history of botany_[ ] ( ), has given some striking illustrations of the remarkable slowness with which its acceptance gained ground. he remarks that when we consider the experimental proofs given by camerarius ( ), and by kölreuter ( - ), it appears incredible that doubts should afterwards have been raised as to the sexuality of plants. yet he shows that such doubts did actually repeatedly crop up. these adverse criticisms rested for the most part on careless experiments, but in many cases on _a priori_ arguments. even as late as , a book of this kind, which would now rank with circle squaring, or flat-earth philosophy, was seriously noticed in a botanical journal. a distinct conception of sex, as applied to plants, had, in fact, not long emerged from the mists of profitless discussion and feeble experiment, at the time when my father began botany by attending henslow's lectures at cambridge. when the belief in the sexuality of plants had become established as an incontrovertible piece of knowledge, a weight of misconception remained, weighing down any rational view of the subject. camerarius[ ] believed (naturally enough in his day) that hermaphrodite[ ] flowers are necessarily self-fertilised. he had the wit to be astonished at this, a degree of intelligence which, as sachs points out, the majority of his successors did not attain to. the following extracts from a note-book show that this point occurred to my father as early as : "do not plants which have male and female organs together [_i.e._ in the same flower] yet receive influence from other plants? does not lyell give some argument about varieties being difficult to keep [true] on account of pollen from other plants? because this may be applied to show all plants do receive intermixture." sprengel,[ ] indeed, understood that the hermaphrodite structure of flowers by no means necessarily leads to self-fertilisation. but although he discovered that in many cases pollen is of necessity carried to the stigma of another _flower_, he did not understand that in the advantage gained by the intercrossing of distinct _plants_ lies the key to the whole question. hermann müller[ ] has well remarked that this "omission was for several generations fatal to sprengel's work.... for both at the time and subsequently, botanists felt above all the weakness of his theory, and they set aside, along with his defective ideas, the rich store of his patient and acute observations and his comprehensive and accurate interpretations." it remained for my father to convince the world that the meaning hidden in the structure of flowers was to be found by seeking light in the same direction in which sprengel, seventy years before, had laboured. robert brown was the connecting link between them, for it was at his recommendation that my father in read sprengel's now celebrated _secret of nature displayed_.[ ] the book impressed him as being "full of truth," although "with some little nonsense." it not only encouraged him in kindred speculation, but guided him in his work, for in he speaks of verifying sprengel's observations. it may be doubted whether robert brown ever planted a more fruitful seed than in putting such a book into such hands. a passage in the _autobiography_ (p. ) shows how it was that my father was attracted to the subject of fertilisation: "during the summer of , and i believe during the previous summer, i was led to attend to the cross-fertilisation of flowers by the aid of insects, from having come to the conclusion in my speculations on the origin of species, that crossing played an important part in keeping specific forms constant." the original connection between the study of flowers and the problem of evolution is curious, and could hardly have been predicted. moreover, it was not a permanent bond. my father proved by a long series of laborious experiments, that when a plant is fertilised and sets seeds under the influence of pollen from a distinct individual, the offspring so produced are superior in vigour to the offspring of self-fertilisation, _i.e._ of the union of the male and female elements of a single plant. when this fact was established, it was possible to understand the _raison d'être_ of the machinery which insures cross-fertilisation in so many flowers; and to understand how natural selection can act on, and mould, the floral structure. asa gray has well remarked with regard to this central idea (_nature_, june , ):--"the aphorism, 'nature abhors a vacuum,' is a characteristic specimen of the science of the middle ages. the aphorism, 'nature abhors close fertilisation,' and the demonstration of the principle, belong to our age and to mr. darwin. to have originated this, and also the principle of natural selection ... and to have applied these principles to the system of nature, in such a manner as to make, within a dozen years, a deeper impression upon natural history than has been made since linnæus, is ample title for one man's fame." the flowers of the papilionaceæ[ ] attracted his attention early, and were the subject of his first paper on fertilisation.[ ] the following extract from an undated letter to asa gray seems to have been written before the publication of this paper, probably in or :-- " ... what you say on papilionaceous flowers is very true; and i have no facts to show that varieties are crossed; but yet (and the same remark is applicable in a beautiful way to fumaria and dielytra, as i noticed many years ago), i must believe that the flowers are constructed partly in direct relation to the visits of insects; and how insects can avoid bringing pollen from other individuals i cannot understand. it is really pretty to watch the action of a humble-bee on the scarlet kidney bean, and in this genus (and in _lathyrus grandiflorus_)[ ] the honey is so placed that the bee invariably alights on that _one_ side of the flower towards which the spiral pistil is protruded (bringing out with it pollen), and by the depression of the wing-petal is forced against the bee's side all dusted with pollen. in the broom the pistil is rubbed on the centre of the back of the bee. i suspect there is something to be made out about the leguminosæ, which will bring the case within _our_ theory; though i have failed to do so. our theory will explain why in the vegetable ... kingdom the act of fertilisation even in hermaphrodites usually takes place _sub jove_, though thus exposed to _great_ injury from damp and rain." a letter to dr. asa gray (september th, ) gives the substance of the paper in the _gardeners' chronicle_:-- "lately i was led to examine buds of kidney bean with the pollen shed; but i was led to believe that the pollen could _hardly_ get on the stigma by wind or otherwise, except by bees visiting [the flower] and moving the wing petals: hence i included a small bunch of flowers in two bottles in every way treated the same: the flowers in one i daily just momentarily moved, as if by a bee; these set three fine pods, the other _not one_. of course this little experiment must be tried again, and this year in england it is too late, as the flowers seem now seldom to set. if bees are necessary to this flower's self-fertilisation, bees must almost cross them, as their dusted right-side of head and right legs constantly touch the stigma. "i have, also, lately been reobserving daily _lobelia fulgens_--this in my garden is never visited by insects, and never sets seeds, without pollen be put on the stigma (whereas the small blue lobelia is visited by bees and does set seed); i mention this because there are such beautiful contrivances to prevent the stigma ever getting its own pollen; which seems only explicable on the doctrine of the advantage of crosses." the paper was supplemented by a second in .[ ] the chief object of these publications seems to have been to obtain information as to the possibility of growing varieties of leguminous plants near each other, and yet keeping them true. it is curious that the papilionaceæ should not only have been the first flowers which attracted his attention by their obvious adaptation to the visits of insects, but should also have constituted one of his sorest puzzles. the common pea and the sweet pea gave him much difficulty, because, although they are as obviously fitted for insect-visits as the rest of the order, yet their varieties keep true. the fact is that neither of these plants being indigenous, they are not perfectly adapted for fertilisation by british insects. he could not, at this stage of his observations, know that the co-ordination between a flower and the particular insect which fertilises it may be as delicate as that between a lock and its key, so that this explanation was not likely to occur to him. besides observing the leguminosæ, he had already begun, as shown in the foregoing extracts, to attend to the structure of other flowers in relation to insects. at the beginning of he worked at leschenaultia,[ ] which at first puzzled him, but was ultimately made out. a passage in a letter chiefly relating to leschenaultia seems to show that it was only in the spring of that he began widely to apply his knowledge to the relation of insects to other flowers. this is somewhat surprising, when we remember that he had read sprengel many years before. he wrote (may ):-- "i should look at this curious contrivance as specially related to visits of insects; as i begin to think is almost universally the case." even in july he wrote to asa gray:-- "there is no end to the adaptations. ought not these cases to make one very cautious when one doubts about the use of all parts? i fully believe that the structure of all irregular flowers is governed in relation to insects. insects are the lords of the floral (to quote the witty _athenæum_) world." this idea has been worked out by h. müller, who has written on insects in the character of flower-breeders or flower-fanciers, showing how the habits and structure of the visitors are reflected in the forms and colours of the flowers visited. he was probably attracted to the study of orchids by the fact that several kinds are common near down. the letters of show that these plants occupied a good deal of his attention; and in he gave part of the summer and all the autumn to the subject. he evidently considered himself idle for wasting time on orchids which ought to have been given to _variation under domestication_. thus he wrote:-- "there is to me incomparably more interest in observing than in writing; but i feel quite guilty in trespassing on these subjects, and not sticking to varieties of the confounded cocks, hens and ducks. i hear that lyell is savage at me." it was in the summer of that he made out one of the most striking and familiar facts in the orchid-book, namely, the manner in which the pollen masses are adapted for removal by insects. he wrote to sir j. d. hooker, july :-- "i have been examining _orchis pyramidalis_, and it almost equals, perhaps even beats, your listera case; the sticky glands are congenitally united into a saddle-shaped organ, which has great power of movement, and seizes hold of a bristle (or proboscis) in an admirable manner, and then another movement takes place in the pollen masses, by which they are beautifully adapted to leave pollen on the two lateral stigmatic surfaces. i never saw anything so beautiful." in june of the same year he wrote:-- "you speak of adaptation being rarely visible, though present in plants. i have just recently been looking at the common orchis, and i declare i think its adaptations in every part of the flower quite as beautiful and plain, or even more beautiful than in the woodpecker."[ ] he wrote also to dr. gray, june , :-- "talking of adaptation, i have lately been looking at our common orchids, and i dare say the facts are as old and well-known as the hills, but i have been so struck with admiration at the contrivances, that i have sent a notice to the _gardeners' chronicle_." besides attending to the fertilisation of the flowers he was already, in , busy with the homologies of the parts, a subject of which he made good use in the orchid book. he wrote to sir joseph hooker (july):-- "it is a real good joke my discussing homologies of orchids with you, after examining only three or four genera; and this very fact makes me feel positive i am right! i do not quite understand some of your terms; but sometime i must get you to explain the homologies; for i am intensely interested in the subject, just as at a game of chess." this work was valuable from a systematic point of view. in he wrote to mr. bentham:-- "it was very kind in you to write to me about the orchideæ, for it has pleased me to an extreme degree that i could have been of the _least_ use to you about the nature of the parts." the pleasure which his early observations on orchids gave him is shown in such passages as the following from a letter to sir j. d. hooker (july , ):-- "you cannot conceive how the orchids have delighted me. they came safe, but box rather smashed; cylindrical old cocoa-or snuff-canister much safer. i enclose postage. as an account of the movement, i shall allude to what i suppose is oncidium, to make _certain_,--is the enclosed flower with crumpled petals this genus? also i most specially want to know what the enclosed little globular brown orchid is. i have only seen pollen of a cattleya on a bee, but surely have you not unintentionally sent me what i wanted most (after catasetum or mormodes), viz., one of the epidendreæ?! i _particularly_ want (and will presently tell you why) another spike of this little orchid, with older flowers, some even almost withered." his delight in observation is again shown in a letter to dr. gray ( ). referring to crüger's letters from trinidad, he wrote:--"happy man, he has actually seen crowds of bees flying round catasetum, with the pollinia sticking to their backs!" the following extracts of letters to sir j. d. hooker illustrate further the interest which his work excited in him:-- "veitch sent me a grand lot this morning. what wonderful structures! "i have now seen enough, and you must not send me more, for though i enjoy looking at them _much_, and it has been very useful to me, seeing so many different forms, it is idleness. for my object each species requires studying for days. i wish you had time to take up the group. i would give a good deal to know what the rostellum is, of which i have traced so many curious modifications. i suppose it cannot be one of the stigmas,[ ] there seems a great tendency for two lateral stigmas to appear. my paper, though touching on only subordinate points will run, i fear, to ms. folio pages! the beauty of the adaptation of parts seems to me unparalleled. i should think or guess waxy pollen was most differentiated. in cypripedium which seems least modified, and a much exterminated group, the grains are single. in _all others_, as far as i have seen, they are in packets of four; and these packets cohere into many wedge-formed masses in orchis; into eight, four, and finally two. it seems curious that a flower should exist, which could _at most_ fertilise only two other flowers, seeing how abundant pollen generally is; this fact i look at as explaining the perfection of the contrivance by which the pollen, so important from its fewness, is carried from flower to flower"[ ]( ). "i was thinking of writing to you to-day, when your note with the orchids came. what frightful trouble you have taken about vanilla; you really must not take an atom more; for the orchids are more play than real work. i have been much interested by epidendrum, and have worked all morning at them; for heaven's sake, do not corrupt me by any more" (august , ). he originally intended to publish his notes on orchids as a paper in the linnean society's _journal_, but it soon became evident that a separate volume would be a more suitable form of publication. in a letter to sir j. d. hooker, sept. , , he writes:-- "i have been acting, i fear that you will think, like a goose; and perhaps in truth i have. when i finished a few days ago my orchis paper, which turns out one hundred and forty folio pages!! and thought of the expense of woodcuts, i said to myself, i will offer the linnean society to withdraw it, and publish it in a pamphlet. it then flashed on me that perhaps murray would publish it, so i gave him a cautious description, and offered to share risks and profits. this morning he writes that he will publish and take all risks, and share profits and pay for all illustrations. it is a risk, and heaven knows whether it will not be a dead failure, but i have not deceived murray, and [have] told him that it would interest those alone who cared much for natural history. i hope i do not exaggerate the curiosity of the many special contrivances." and again on september th:-- "what a good soul you are not to sneer at me, but to pat me on the back. i have the greatest doubt whether i am not going to do, in publishing my paper, a most ridiculous thing. it would annoy me much, but only for murray's sake, if the publication were a dead failure." there was still much work to be done, and in october he was still receiving orchids from kew, and wrote to hooker:-- "it is impossible to thank you enough. i was almost mad at the wealth of orchids." and again-- "mr. veitch most generously has sent me two splendid buds of mormodes, which will be capital for dissection, but i fear will never be irritable; so for the sake of charity and love of heaven do, i beseech you, observe what movement takes place in cychnoches, and what part must be touched. mr. v. has also sent me one splendid flower of catasetum, the most wonderful orchid i have seen." on october he wrote to sir joseph hooker:-- "it seems that i cannot exhaust your good nature. i have had the hardest day's work at catasetum and buds of mormodes, and believe i understand at last the mechanism of movements and the functions. catasetum is a beautiful case of slight modification of structure leading to new functions. i never was more interested in any subject in all my life than in this of orchids. i owe very much to you." again to the same friend, november , :-- "if you really can spare another catasetum, when nearly ready, i shall be most grateful; had i not better send for it? the case is truly marvellous; the (so-called) sensation, or stimulus from a light touch is certainly transmitted through the antennæ for more than one inch _instantaneously_.... a cursed insect or something let my last flower off last night." professor de candolle has remarked[ ] of my father, "ce n'est pas lui qui aurait demandé de construire des palais pour y loger des laboratoires." this was singularly true of his orchid work, or rather it would be nearer the truth to say that he had no laboratory, for it was only after the publication of the _fertilisation of orchids_, that he built himself a greenhouse. he wrote to sir j. d. hooker (december th, ):-- "and now i am going to tell you a _most_ important piece of news!! i have almost resolved to build a small hot-house; my neighbour's really first-rate gardener has suggested it, and offered to make me plans, and see that it is well done, and he is really a clever follow, who wins lots of prizes, and is very observant. he believes that we should succeed with a little patience; it will be a grand amusement for me to experiment with plants." again he wrote (february th, ):-- "i write now because the new hot-house is ready, and i long to stock it, just like a schoolboy. could you tell me pretty soon what plants you can give me; and then i shall know what to order? and do advise me how i had better get such plants as you can _spare_. would it do to send my tax-cart early in the morning, on a day that was not frosty, lining the cart with mats, and arriving here before night? i have no idea whether this degree of exposure (and of course the cart would be cold) could injure stove-plants; they would be about five hours (with bait) on the journey home." a week later he wrote:-- "you cannot imagine what pleasure your plants give me (far more than your dead wedgwood-ware can give you); h. and i go and gloat over them, but we privately confessed to each other, that if they were not our own, perhaps we should not see such transcendant beauty in each leaf." and in march, when he was extremely unwell, he wrote:-- "a few words about the stove-plants; they do so amuse me. i have crawled to see them two or three times. will you correct and answer, and return enclosed. i have hunted in all my books and cannot find these names, and i like much to know the family." his difficulty with regard to the names of plants is illustrated, with regard to a lupine on which he was at work, in an extract from a letter (july , ) to sir j. d. hooker: "i sent to the nursery garden, whence i bought the seed, and could only hear that it was 'the common blue lupine,' the man saying 'he was no scholard, and did not know latin, and that parties who make experiments ought to find out the names.'" the book was published may th, . of its reception he writes to mr. murray, june th and th:-- "the botanists praise my orchid-book to the skies. some one sent me (perhaps you) the _parthenon_, with a good review. the _athenæum_[ ] treats me with very kind pity and contempt; but the reviewer knew nothing of his subject." "there is a superb, but i fear exaggerated, review in the _london review_.[ ] but i have not been a fool, as i thought i was, to publish; for asa gray, about the most competent judge in the world, thinks almost as highly of the book as does the _london review_. the _athenæum_ will hinder the sale greatly." the rev. m. j. berkeley was the author of the notice in the _london review_, as my father learned from sir j. d. hooker, who added, "i thought it very well done indeed. i have read a good deal of the orchid-book, and echo all he says." to this my father replied (june th, ):-- "my dear old friend,--you speak of my warming the cockles of your heart, but you will never know how often you have warmed mine. it is not your approbation of my scientific work (though i care for that more than for any one's): it is something deeper. to this day i remember keenly a letter you wrote to me from oxford, when i was at the water-cure, and how it cheered me when i was utterly weary of life. well, my orchid-book is a success (but i do not know whether it sells)." in another letter to the same friend, he wrote:-- "you have pleased me much by what you say in regard to bentham and oliver approving of my book; for i had got a sort of nervousness, and doubted whether i had not made an egregious fool of myself, and concocted pleasant little stinging remarks for reviews, such as 'mr. darwin's head seems to have been turned by a certain degree of success, and he thinks that the most trifling observations are worth publication.'" he wrote too, to asa gray:-- "your generous sympathy makes you over-estimate what you have read of my orchid-book. but your letter of may th and th has given me an almost foolish amount of satisfaction. the subject interested me, i knew, beyond its real value; but i had lately got to think that i had made myself a complete fool by publishing in a semi-popular form. now i shall confidently defy the world.... no doubt my volume contains much error: how curiously difficult it is to be accurate, though i try my utmost. your notes have interested me beyond measure. i can now afford to d---- my critics with ineffable complacency of mind. cordial thanks for this benefit." sir joseph hooker reviewed the book in the _gardeners' chronicle_, writing in a successful imitation of the style of lindley, the editor. my father wrote to sir joseph (nov. , ):-- "so you did write the review in the _gardeners' chronicle_. once or twice i doubted whether it was lindley; but when i came to a little slap at r. brown, i doubted no longer. you arch-rogue! i do not wonder you have deceived others also. perhaps i am a conceited dog; but if so, you have much to answer for; i never received so much praise, and coming from you i value it much more than from any other." with regard to botanical opinion generally, he wrote to dr. gray, "i am fairly astonished at the success of my book with botanists." among naturalists who were not botanists, lyell was pre-eminent in his appreciation of the book. i have no means of knowing when he read it, but in later life, as i learn from professor judd, he was enthusiastic in praise of the _fertilisation of orchids_, which he considered "next to the _origin_, as the most valuable of all darwin's works." among the general public the author did not at first hear of many disciples, thus he wrote to his cousin fox in september : "hardly any one not a botanist, except yourself, as far as i know, has cared for it." if we examine the literature relating to the fertilisation of flowers, we do not find that this new branch of study showed any great activity immediately after the publication of the orchid-book. there are a few papers by asa gray, in and , by hildebrand in , and by moggridge in , but the great mass of work by axell, delpino, hildebrand, and the müllers, did not begin to appear until about . the period during which the new views were being assimilated, and before they became thoroughly fruitful, was, however, surprisingly short. the later activity in this department may be roughly gauged by the fact that the valuable 'bibliography,' given by professor d'arcy thompson in his translation of müller's _befruchtung_ ( ),[ ] contains references to papers. in a second edition of the _fertilisation of orchids_ was published, the first edition having been for some time out of print. the new edition was remodelled and almost rewritten, and a large amount of new matter added, much of which the author owed to his friend fritz müller. with regard to this edition he wrote to dr. gray:-- "i do not suppose i shall ever again touch the book. after much doubt i have resolved to act in this way with all my books for the future; that is to correct them once and never touch them again, so as to use the small quantity of work left in me for new matter." one of the latest references to his orchid-work occurs in a letter to mr. bentham, february , . it shows the amount of pleasure which this subject gave to my father, and (what is characteristic of him) that his reminiscence of the work was one of delight in the observations which preceded its publication, not to the applause which followed it:-- "they are wonderful creatures, these orchids, and i sometimes think with a glow of pleasure, when i remember making out some little point in their method of fertilisation." _the effect of cross-and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom. different forms of flowers on plants of the same species._ two other books bearing on the problem of sex in plants require a brief notice. _the effects of cross- and self-fertilisation_, published in , is one of his most important works, and at the same time one of the most unreadable to any but the professed naturalist. its value lies in the proof it offers of the increased vigour given to the offspring by the act of cross-fertilisation. it is the complement of the orchid book because it makes us understand the advantage gained by the mechanisms for insuring cross-fertilisation described in that work. the book is also valuable in another respect, because it throws light on the difficult problems of the origin of sexuality. the increased vigour resulting from cross-fertilisation is allied in the closest manner to the advantage gained by change of conditions. so strongly is this the case, that in some instances cross-fertilisation gives no advantage to the offspring, unless the parents have lived under slightly different conditions. so that the really important thing is not that two individuals of different _blood_ shall unite, but two individuals which have been subjected to different conditions. we are thus led to believe that sexuality is a means for infusing vigour into the offspring by the coalescence of differentiated elements, an advantage which could not accompany asexual reproductions. it is remarkable that this book, the result of eleven years of experimental work, owed its origin to a chance observation. my father had raised two beds of _linaria vulgaris_--one set being the offspring of cross and the other of self-fertilisation. the plants were grown for the sake of some observations on inheritance, and not with any view to cross-breeding, and he was astonished to observe that the offspring of self-fertilisation were clearly less vigorous than the others. it seemed incredible to him that this result could be due to a single act of self-fertilisation, and it was only in the following year, when precisely the same result occurred in the case of a similar experiment on inheritance in carnations, that his attention was "thoroughly aroused," and that he determined to make a series of experiments specially directed to the question. the volume on _forms of flowers_ was published in , and was dedicated by the author to professor asa gray, "as a small tribute of respect and affection." it consists of certain earlier papers re-edited, with the addition of a quantity of new matter. the subjects treated in the book are:-- (i.) heterostyled plants. (ii.) polygamous, dioecious, and gynodioecious plants. (iii.) cleistogamic flowers. the nature of heterostyled plants may be illustrated in the primrose, one of the best known examples of the class. if a number of primroses be gathered, it will be found that some plants yield nothing but "pin-eyed" flowers, in which the style (or organ for the transmission of the pollen to the ovule) is long, while the others yield only "thrum-eyed" flowers with short styles. thus primroses are divided into two sets or castes differing structurally from each other. my father showed that they also differ sexually, and that in fact the bond between the two castes more nearly resembles that between separate sexes than any other known relationship. thus for example a long-styled primrose, though it can be fertilised by its own pollen, is not _fully_ fertile unless it is impregnated by the pollen of a short-styled flower. heterostyled plants are comparable to hermaphrodite animals, such as snails, which require the concourse of two individuals, although each possesses both the sexual elements. the difference is that in the case of the primrose it is _perfect fertility_, and not simply _fertility_, that depends on the mutual action of the two sets of individuals. the work on heterostyled plants has a special bearing, to which the author attached much importance, on the problem of the origin of species.[ ] he found that a wonderfully close parallelism exists between hybridisation (_i.e._ crosses between distinct species), and certain forms of fertilisation among heterostyled plants. so that it is hardly an exaggeration to say that the "illegitimately" reared seedlings are hybrids, although both their parents belong to identically the same species. in a letter to professor huxley, given in the second volume of the _life and letters_ (p. ), my father writes as if his researches on heterostyled plants tended to make him believe that sterility is a selected or acquired quality. but in his later publications, _e.g._ in the sixth edition of the _origin_, he adheres to the belief that sterility is an incidental[ ] rather than a selected quality. the result of his work on heterostyled plants is of importance as showing that sterility is no test of specific distinctness, and that it depends on differentiation of the sexual elements which is independent of any racial difference. i imagine that it was his instinctive love of making out a difficulty which to a great extent kept him at work so patiently on the heterostyled plants. but it was the fact that general conclusions of the above character could be drawn from his results which made him think his results worthy of publication. footnotes: [ ] the "genealogy of animals" (_the academy_, ), reprinted in _critiques and addresses_. [ ] an english edition is published by the clarendon press, . [ ] sachs, _geschichte d. botanik_, p. . [ ] that is to say, flowers possessing both stamens, or male organs, and pistils or female organs. [ ] christian conrad sprengel, born , died . [ ] _fertilisation of flowers_ (eng. trans.) , p. . [ ] _das entdeckte geheimniss der natur im baue und in der befruchtung der blumen._ berlin, . [ ] the order to which the pea and bean belong. [ ] _gardeners' chronicle_, , p. . it appears that this paper was a piece of "over-time" work. he wrote to a friend, "that confounded leguminous paper was done in the afternoon, and the consequence was i had to go to moor park for a week." [ ] the sweet pea and everlasting pea belong to the genus lathyrus. [ ] _gardeners' chronicle_, , p. . [ ] he published a short paper on the manner of fertilisation of this flower, in the _gardeners' chronicle_ , p. . [ ] the woodpecker was one of his stock examples of adaptation. [ ] it is a modification of the upper stigma. [ ] this rather obscure statement may be paraphrased thus:-- the machinery is so perfect that the plant can afford to minimise the amount of pollen produced. where the machinery for pollen distribution is of a cruder sort, for instance where it is carried by the wind, enormous quantities are produced, _e.g._ in the fir tree. [ ] "darwin considéré, &c.," _archives des sciences physiques et naturelles_ ème période. tome vii. , . [ ] may th, . [ ] june th, . [ ] my father's "prefatory notice" to this work is dated february th, , and is therefore almost the last of his writings. [ ] see autobiography, p. . [ ] the pollen or fertilising element is in each species adapted to produce a certain change in the egg-cell (or female element), just as a key is adapted to a lock. if a key opens a lock for which it was never intended it is an incidental result. in the same way if the pollen of species of a. proves to be capable of fertilising the egg-cell of species b. we may call it incidental. chapter xvii. _climbing plants; power of movement in plants; insectivorous plants; kew index of plant names._ my father mentions in his _autobiography_ (p. ) that he was led to take up the subject of climbing plants by reading dr. gray's paper, "note on the coiling of the tendrils of plants."[ ] this essay seems to have been read in , but i am only able to guess at the date of the letter in which he asks for a reference to it, so that the precise date of his beginning this work cannot be determined. in june , he was certainly at work, and wrote to sir j. d. hooker for information as to previous publications on the subject, being then in ignorance of palm's and h. v. mohl's works on climbing plants, both of which were published in . _c. darwin to asa gray._ down, august [ ]. my present hobby-horse i owe to you, viz. the tendrils: their irritability is beautiful, as beautiful in all its modifications as anything in orchids. about the _spontaneous_ movement (independent of touch) of the tendrils and upper internodes, i am rather taken aback by your saying, "is it not well known?" i can find nothing in any book which i have.... the spontaneous movement of the tendrils is independent of the movement of the upper internodes, but both work harmoniously together in sweeping a circle for the tendrils to grasp a stick. so with all climbing plants (without tendrils) as yet examined, the upper internodes go on night and day sweeping a circle in one fixed direction. it is surprising to watch the apocyneæ with shoots inches long (beyond the supporting stick), steadily searching for something to climb up. when the shoot meets a stick, the motion at that point is arrested, but in the upper part is continued; so that the climbing of all plants yet examined is the simple result of the spontaneous circulatory movement of the upper internodes.[ ] pray tell me whether anything has been published on this subject? i hate publishing what is old; but i shall hardly regret my work if it is old, as it has much amused me.... he soon found that his observations were not entirely novel, and wrote to hooker: "i have now read two german books, and all i believe that has been written on climbers, and it has stirred me up to find that i have a good deal of new matter. it is strange, but i really think no one has explained simple twining plants. these books have stirred me up, and made me wish for plants specified in them." he continued his observations on climbing plants during the prolonged illness from which he suffered in the autumn of , and in the following spring. he wrote to sir j. d. hooker, apparently in march :-- "the hot-house is such an amusement to me, and my amusement i owe to you, as my delight is to look at the many odd leaves and plants from kew.... the only approach to work which i can do is to look at tendrils and climbers, this does not distress my weakened brain. ask oliver to look over the enclosed queries (and do you look) and amuse a broken-down brother naturalist by answering any which he can. if you ever lounge through your houses, remember me and climbing plants." a letter to dr. gray, april , , has a word or two on the subject.-- "i have began correcting proofs of my paper on climbing plants. i suppose i shall be able to send you a copy in four or five weeks. i think it contains a good deal new, and some curious points, but it is so fearfully long, that no one will ever read it. if, however, you do not _skim_ through it, you will be an unnatural parent, for it is your child." dr. gray not only read it but approved of it, to my father's great satisfaction, as the following extracts show:-- "i was much pleased to get your letter of july th. now that i can do nothing, i maunder over old subjects, and your approbation of my climbing paper gives me _very_ great satisfaction. i made my observations when i could do nothing else and much enjoyed it, but always doubted whether they were worth publishing.... "i received yesterday your article[ ] on climbers, and it has pleased me in an extraordinary and even silly manner. you pay me a superb compliment, and as i have just said to my wife, i think my friends must perceive that i like praise, they give me such hearty doses. i always admire your skill in reviews or abstracts, and you have done this article excellently and given the whole essence of my paper.... i have had a letter from a good zoologist in s. brazil, f. müller, who has been stirred up to observe climbers, and gives me some curious cases of _branch_-climbers, in which branches are converted into tendrils, and then continue to grow and throw out leaves and new branches, and then lose their tendril character." the paper on climbing plants was republished in , as a separate book. the author had been unable to give his customary amount of care to the style of the original essay, owing to the fact that it was written during a period of continued ill-health, and it was now found to require a great deal of alteration. he wrote to sir j. d. hooker (march , ): "it is lucky for authors in general that they do not require such dreadful work in merely licking what they write into shape." and to mr. murray, in september, he wrote: "the corrections are heavy in _climbing plants_, and yet i deliberately went over the ms. and old sheets three times." the book was published in september , an edition of copies was struck off; the edition sold fairly well, and additional copies were printed in june of the following year. _the power of movement in plants._ . the few sentences in the autobiographical chapter give with sufficient clearness the connection between the _power of movement_ and the book on climbing plants. the central idea of the book is that the movements of plants in relation to light, gravitation, &c., are modifications of a spontaneous tendency to revolve or circumnutate, which is widely inherent in the growing parts of plants. this conception has not been generally adopted, and has not taken a place among the canons of orthodox physiology. the book has been treated by professor sachs with a few words of professorial contempt; and by professor wiesner it has been honoured by careful and generously expressed criticism. mr. thiselton dyer[ ] has well said: "whether this masterly conception of the unity of what has hitherto seemed a chaos of unrelated phenomena will be sustained, time alone will show. but no one can doubt the importance of what mr. darwin has done, in showing that for the future the phenomena of plant movement can and indeed must be studied from a single point of view." the work was begun in the summer of , after the publication of _different forms of flowers_, and by the autumn his enthusiasm for the subject was thoroughly established, and he wrote to mr. dyer: "i am all on fire at the work." at this time he was studying the movements of cotyledons, in which the sleep of plants is to be observed in its simplest form; in the following spring he was trying to discover what useful purpose those sleep-movements could serve, and wrote to sir joseph hooker (march th, ):-- "i think we have _proved_ that the sleep of plants is to lessen the injury to the leaves from radiation. this has interested me much, and has cost us great labour, as it has been a problem since the time of linnæus. but we have killed or badly injured a multitude of plants. n.b.--_oxalis carnosa_ was most valuable, but last night was killed." the book was published on november , , and copies were disposed of at mr. murray's sale. with regard to it he wrote to sir j. d. hooker (november ):-- "your note has pleased me much--for i did not expect that you would have had time to read _any_ of it. read the last chapter, and you will know the whole result, but without the evidence. the case, however, of radicles bending after exposure for an hour to geotropism, with their tips (or brains) cut off is, i think worth your reading (bottom of p. ); it astounded me. but i will bother you no more about my book. the sensitiveness of seedlings to light is marvellous." to another friend, mr. thiselton dyer, he wrote (november , ): "very many thanks for your most kind note, but you think too highly of our work, not but what this is very pleasant.... many of the germans are very contemptuous about making out the use of organs; but they may sneer the souls out of their bodies, and i for one shall think it the most interesting part of natural history. indeed you are greatly mistaken if you doubt for one moment on the very great value of your constant and most kind assistance to us." the book was widely reviewed, and excited much interest among the general public. the following letter refers to a leading article in the _times_, november , :-- _c. d. to mrs. haliburton._[ ] down, november , . my dear sarah,--you see how audaciously i begin; but i have always loved and shall ever love this name. your letter has done more than please me, for its kindness has touched my heart. i often think of old days and of the delight of my visits to woodhouse, and of the deep debt of gratitude which i owe to your father. it was very good of you to write. i had quite forgotten my old ambition about the shrewsbury newspaper;[ ] but i remember the pride which i felt when i saw in a book about beetles the impressive words "captured by c. darwin." captured sounded so grand compared with caught. this seemed to me glory enough for any man! i do not know in the least what made the _times_ glorify me, for it has sometimes pitched into me ferociously. i should very much like to see you again, but you would find a visit here very dull, for we feel very old and have no amusement, and lead a solitary life. but we intend in a few weeks to spend a few days in london, and then if you have anything else to do in london, you would perhaps come and lunch with us. believe me, my dear sarah, yours gratefully and affectionately. the following letter was called forth by the publication of a volume devoted to the criticism of the _power of movement in plants_ by an accomplished botanist, dr. julius wiesner, professor of botany in the university of vienna: _c. d. to julius wiesner._ down, october th, . my dear sir,--i have now finished your book,[ ] and have understood the whole except a very few passages. in the first place, let me thank you cordially for the manner in which you have everywhere treated me. you have shown how a man may differ from another in the most decided manner, and yet express his difference with the most perfect courtesy. not a few english and german naturalists might learn a useful lesson from your example; for the coarse language often used by scientific men towards each other does no good, and only degrades science. i have been profoundly interested by your book, and some of your experiments are so beautiful, that i actually felt pleasure while being vivisected. it would take up too much space to discuss all the important topics in your book. i fear that you have quite upset the interpretation which i have given of the effects of cutting off the tips of horizontally extended roots, and of those laterally exposed to moisture; but i cannot persuade myself that the horizontal position of lateral branches and roots is due simply to their lessened power of growth. nor when i think of my experiments with the cotyledons of _phalaris_, can i give up the belief of the transmission of some stimulus due to light from the upper to the lower part. at p. you have misunderstood my meaning, when you say that i believe that the effects from light are transmitted to a part which is not itself heliotropic. i never considered whether or not the short part beneath the ground was heliotropic; but i believe that with young seedlings the part which bends _near_, but _above_ the ground is heliotropic, and i believe so from this part bending only moderately when the light is oblique, and bending rectangularly when the light is horizontal. nevertheless the bending of this lower part, as i conclude from my experiments with opaque caps, is influenced by the action of light on the upper part. my opinion, however, on the above and many other points, signifies very little, for i have no doubt that your book will convince most botanists that i am wrong in all the points on which we differ. independently of the question of transmission, my mind is so full of facts leading me to believe that light, gravity, &c., act not in a direct manner on growth, but as stimuli, that i am quite unable to modify my judgment on this head. i could not understand the passage at p. , until i consulted my son george, who is a mathematician. he supposes that your objection is founded on the diffused light from the lamp illuminating both sides of the object, and not being reduced, with increasing distance in the same ratio as the direct light; but he doubts whether this _necessary_ correction will account for the very little difference in the heliotropic curvature of the plants in the successive pots. with respect to the sensitiveness of the tips of roots to contact, i cannot admit your view until it is proved that i am in error about bits of card attached by liquid gum causing movement; whereas no movement was caused if the card remained separated from the tip by a layer of the liquid gum. the fact also of thicker and thinner bits of card attached on opposite sides of the same root by shellac, causing movement in one direction, has to be explained. you often speak of the tip having been injured; but externally there was no sign of injury: and when the tip was plainly injured, the extreme part became curved _towards_ the injured side. i can no more believe that the tip was injured by the bits of card, at least when attached by gum-water, than that the glands of drosera are injured by a particle of thread or hair placed on it, or that the human tongue is so when it feels any such object. about the most important subject in my book, namely circumnutation, i can only say that i feel utterly bewildered at the difference in our conclusions; but i could not fully understand some parts which my son francis will be able to translate to me when he returns home. the greater part of your book is beautifully clear. finally, i wish that i had enough strength and spirit to commence a fresh set of experiments, and publish the results, with a full recantation of my errors when convinced of them; but i am too old for such an undertaking, nor do i suppose that i shall be able to do much, or any more, original work. i imagine that i see one possible source of error in your beautiful experiment of a plant rotating and exposed to a lateral light. with high respect, and with sincere thanks for the kind manner in which you have treated me and my mistakes, i remain, my dear sir, yours sincerely. _insectivorous plants._ in the summer of he was staying at the house of his sister-in-law, miss wedgwood, in ashdown forest whence he wrote (july , ), to sir joseph hooker:-- "latterly i have done nothing here; but at first i amused myself with a few observations on the insect-catching power of drosera:[ ] and i must consult you some time whether my 'twaddle' is worth communicating to the linnean society." in august he wrote to the same friend:-- "i will gratefully send my notes on drosera when copied by my copier: the subject amused me when i had nothing to do." he has described in the _autobiography_ (p. ), the general nature of these early experiments. he noticed insects sticking to the leaves, and finding that flies, &c., placed on the adhesive glands, were held fast and embraced, he suspected that the captured prey was digested and absorbed by the leaves. he therefore tried the effect on the leaves of various nitrogenous fluids--with results which, as far as they went, verified his surmise. in september, , he wrote to dr. gray:-- "i have been infinitely amused by working at drosera: the movements are really curious; and the manner in which the leaves detect certain nitrogenous compounds is marvellous. you will laugh; but it is, at present, my full belief (after endless experiments) that they detect (and move in consequence of) the / part of a single grain of nitrate of ammonia; but the muriate and sulphate of ammonia bother their chemical skill, and they cannot make anything of the nitrogen in these salts!" later in the autumn he was again obliged to leave home for eastbourne, where he continued his work on drosera. on his return home he wrote to lyell (november ):-- "i will and must finish my drosera ms., which will take me a week, for, at the present moment, i care more about drosera than the origin of all the species in the world. but i will not publish on drosera till next year, for i am frightened and astounded at my results. i declare it is a certain fact, that one organ is so sensitive to touch, that a weight seventy-eight-times less than that, viz., / of a grain, which will move the best chemical balance, suffices to cause a conspicuous movement. is it not curious that a plant should be far more sensitive to the touch than any nerve in the human body? yet i am perfectly sure that this is true. when i am on my hobby-horse, i never can resist telling my friends how well my hobby goes, so you must forgive the rider." the work was continued, as a holiday task, at bournemouth, where he stayed during the autumn of . a long break now ensued in his work on insectivorous plants, and it was not till that the subject seriously occupied him again. a passage in a letter to dr. asa gray, written in or , shows, however, that the question was not altogether absent from his mind in the interim:-- "depend on it you are unjust on the merits of my beloved drosera; it is a wonderful plant, or rather a most sagacious animal. i will stick up for drosera to the day of my death. heaven knows whether i shall ever publish my pile of experiments on it." he notes in his diary that the last proof of the _expression of the emotions_ was finished on august , , and that he began to work on drosera on the following day. _c. d. to asa gray_ [sevenoaks], october [ ]. ... i have worked pretty hard for four or five weeks on drosera, and then broke down; so that we took a house near sevenoaks for three weeks (where i now am) to get complete rest. i have very little power of working now, and must put off the rest of the work on drosera till next spring, as my plants are dying. it is an endless subject, and i must cut it short, and for this reason shall not do much on dionæa. the point which has interested me most is tracing the _nerves_! which follow the vascular bundles. by a prick with a sharp lancet at a certain point, i can paralyse one-half the leaf, so that a stimulus to the other half causes no movement. it is just like dividing the spinal marrow of a frog:--no stimulus can be sent from the brain or anterior part of the spine to the hind legs: but if these latter are stimulated, they move by reflex action. i find my old results about the astonishing sensitiveness of the nervous system (!?) of drosera to various stimulants fully confirmed and extended.... _c. d. to asa gray_, down, june [ ]. ... i am now hard at work getting my book on drosera & co. ready for the printers, but it will take some time, for i am always finding out new points to observe. i think you will be interested by my observations on the digestive process in drosera; the secretion contains an acid of the acetic series, and some ferment closely analogous to, but not identical with, pepsine; for i have been making a long series of comparative trials. no human being will believe what i shall publish about the smallness of the doses of phosphate of ammonia which act.... the manuscript of _insectivorous plants_ was finished in march . he seems to have been more than usually oppressed by the writing of this book, thus he wrote to sir j. d. hooker in february:-- "you ask about my book, and all that i can say is that i am ready to commit suicide; i thought it was decently written, but find so much wants rewriting, that it will not be ready to go to printers for two months, and will then make a confoundedly big book. murray will say that it is no use publishing in the middle of summer, so i do not know what will be the upshot; but i begin to think that every one who publishes a book is a fool." the book was published on july nd, , and copies were sold out of the edition of . _the kew index of plant-names._ some account of my father's connection with the _index of plant-names_, now ( ) being printed by the clarendon press, will be found in mr. b. daydon jackson's paper in the _journal of botany_, , p. . mr. jackson quotes the following statement by sir j. d. hooker:-- "shortly before his death, mr. charles darwin informed sir joseph hooker that it was his intention to devote a considerable sum of money annually for some years in aid or furtherance of some work or works of practical utility to biological science, and to make provisions in his will in the event of these not being completed during his lifetime. "amongst other objects connected with botanical science, mr. darwin regarded with especial interest the importance of a complete index to the names and authors of the genera and species of plants known to botanists, together with their native countries. steudel's _nomenclator_ is the only existing work of this nature, and although now nearly half a century old, mr. darwin had found it of great aid in his own researches. it has been indispensable to every botanical institution, whether as a list of all known flowering plants, as an indication of their authors, or as a digest of botanical geography." since , when the _nomenclator_ was published, the number of described plants may be said to have doubled, so that steudel is now seriously below the requirements of botanical work. to remedy this want, the _nomenclator_ has been from time to time posted up in an interleaved copy in the herbarium at kew, by the help of "funds supplied by private liberality."[ ] my father, like other botanists, had, as sir joseph hooker points out, experienced the value of steudel's work. he obtained plants from all sorts of sources, which were often incorrectly named, and he felt the necessity of adhering to the accepted nomenclature so that he might convey to other workers precise indications as to the plants which he had studied. it was also frequently a matter of importance to him to know the native country of his experimental plants. thus it was natural that he should recognise the desirability of completing and publishing the interleaved volume at kew. the wish to help in this object was heightened by the admiration he felt for the results for which the world has to thank the royal gardens at kew, and by his gratitude for the invaluable aid which for so many years he received from its director and his staff. he expressly stated that it was his wish "to aid in some way the scientific work carried on at the royal gardens"[ ]--which induced him to offer to supply funds for the completion of the kew _nomenclator_. the following passage, for which i am indebted to professor judd, is of interest, as illustrating, the motives that actuated my father in this matter. professor judd writes:-- "on the occasion of my last visit to him, he told me that his income having recently greatly increased, while his wants remained the same, he was most anxious to devote what he could spare to the advancement of geology or biology. he dwelt in the most touching manner on the fact that he owed so much happiness and fame to the natural history sciences, which had been the solace of what might have been a painful existence;--and he begged me, if i knew of any research which could be aided by a grant of a few hundreds of pounds, to let him know, as it would be a delight to him to feel that he was helping in promoting the progress of science. he informed me at the same time that he was making the same suggestion to sir joseph hooker and professor huxley with respect to botany and zoology respectively. i was much impressed by the earnestness, and, indeed, deep emotion, with which he spoke of his indebtedness to science, and his desire to promote its interests." the plan of the proposed work having been carefully considered, sir joseph hooker was able to confide its elaboration in detail to mr. b. daydon jackson, secretary of the linnean society, whose extensive knowledge of botanical literature qualifies him for the task. my father's original idea of producing a modern edition of steudel's _nomenclator_ has been practically abandoned, the aim now kept in view is rather to construct a list of genera and species (with references) founded on bentham and hooker's _genera plantarum_. under sir joseph hooker's supervision, the work, carried out with admirable zeal by mr. jackson, goes steadily forward. the colossal nature of the undertaking may be estimated by the fact that the manuscript of the _index_ is at the present time ( ) believed to weigh more than a ton. the kew 'index,' will be a fitting memorial of my father: and his share in its completion illustrates a part of his character--his ready sympathy with work outside his own lines of investigation--and his respect for minute and patient labour in all branches of science. footnotes: [ ] _proc. amer. acad. of arts and sciences_, . [ ] this view is rejected by some botanists. [ ] in the september number of _silliman's journal_, concluded in the january number, . [ ] _charles darwin_, _nature_ series, p. . [ ] mrs. haliburton was a daughter of my father's early friend, the late mr. owen, of woodhouse. [ ] mrs. haliburton had reminded him of his saying as a boy that if eddowes' newspaper ever alluded to him as "our deserving fellow-townsman," his ambition would be amply gratified. [ ] _das bewegungsvermögen der pflanzen._ vienna, . [ ] the common sun-dew. [ ] _kew gardens report_, , p. . [ ] see _nature_, january , . chapter xviii. conclusion. some idea of the general course of my father's health may have been gathered from the letters given in the preceding pages. the subject of health appears more prominently than is often necessary in a biography, because it was, unfortunately, so real an element in determining the outward form of his life. my father was at one time in the hands of dr. bence jones, from whose treatment he certainly derived benefit. in later years he became a patient of sir andrew clark, under whose care he improved greatly in general health. it was not only for his generously rendered service that my father felt a debt of gratitude towards sir andrew clark. he owed to his cheering personal influence an often-repeated encouragement, which latterly added something real to his happiness, and he found sincere pleasure in sir andrew's friendship and kindness towards himself and his children. during the last ten years of his life the state of his health was a cause of satisfaction and hope to his family. his condition showed signs of amendment in several particulars. he suffered less distress and discomfort, and was able to work more steadily. scattered through his letters are one or two references to pain or uneasiness felt in the region of the heart. how far these indicate that the heart was affected early in life, i cannot pretend to say; in any case it is certain that he had no serious or permanent trouble of this nature until shortly before his death. in spite of the general improvement in his health, which has been above alluded to, there was a certain loss of physical vigour occasionally apparent during the last few years of his life. this is illustrated by a sentence in a letter to his old friend sir james sulivan, written on january , : "my scientific work tires me more than it used to do, but i have nothing else to do, and whether one is worn out a year or two sooner or later signifies but little." a similar feeling is shown in a letter to sir j. d. hooker of june , . my father was staying at patterdale, and wrote: "i am rather despondent about myself.... i have not the heart or strength to begin any investigation lasting years, which is the only thing i enjoy, and i have no little jobs which i can do." in july, , he wrote to mr. wallace: "we have just returned home after spending five weeks on ullswater; the scenery is quite charming, but i cannot walk, and everything tires me, even seeing scenery.... what i shall do with my few remaining years of life i can hardly tell. i have everything to make me happy and contented, but life has become very wearisome to me." he was, however, able to do a good deal of work, and that of a trying sort,[ ] during the autumn of , but towards the end of the year, he was clearly in need of rest: and during the winter was in a lower condition than was usual with him. on december , he went for a week to his daughter's house in bryanston street. during his stay in london he went to call on mr. romanes, and was seized when on the door-step with an attack apparently of the same kind as those which afterwards became so frequent. the rest of the incident, which i give in mr. romanes' words, is interesting too from a different point of view, as giving one more illustration of my father's scrupulous consideration for others:-- "i happened to be out, but my butler, observing that mr. darwin was ill, asked him to come in. he said he would prefer going home, and although the butler urged him to wait at least until a cab could be fetched, he said he would rather not give so much trouble. for the same reason he refused to allow the butler to accompany him. accordingly he watched him walking with difficulty towards the direction in which cabs were to be met with, and saw that, when he had got about three hundred yards from the house, he staggered and caught hold of the park-railings as if to prevent himself from falling. the butler therefore hastened to his assistance, but after a few seconds saw him turn round with the evident purpose of retracing his steps to my house. however, after he had returned part of the way he seems to have felt better, for he again changed his mind, and proceeded to find a cab." during the last week of february and in the beginning of march, attacks of pain in the region of the heart, with irregularity of the pulse, became frequent, coming on indeed nearly every afternoon. a seizure of this sort occurred about march , when he was walking alone at a short distance from the house; he got home with difficulty, and this was the last time that he was able to reach his favourite 'sand-walk.' shortly after this, his illness became obviously more serious and alarming, and he was seen by sir andrew clark, whose treatment was continued by dr. norman moore, of st. bartholomew's hospital, and dr. allfrey, at that time in practice at st. mary cray. he suffered from distressing sensations of exhaustion and faintness, and seemed to recognise with deep depression the fact that his working days were over. he gradually recovered from this condition, and became more cheerful and hopeful, as is shown in the following letter to mr. huxley, who was anxious that my father should have closer medical supervision than the existing arrangements allowed:-- "down, march , . "my dear huxley,--your most kind letter has been a real cordial to me. i have felt better to-day than for three weeks, and have felt as yet no pain. your plan seems an excellent one, and i will probably act upon it, unless i get very much better. dr. clark's kindness is unbounded to me, but he is too busy to come here. once again, accept my cordial thanks, my dear old friend. i wish to god there were more automata[ ] in the world like you. "ever yours, "ch. darwin." the allusion to sir andrew clark requires a word of explanation. sir andrew himself was ever ready to devote himself to my father, who however, could not endure the thought of sending for him, knowing how severely his great practice taxed his strength. no especial change occurred during the beginning of april, but on saturday th he was seized with giddiness while sitting at dinner in the evening, and fainted in an attempt to reach his sofa. on the th he was again better, and in my temporary absence recorded for me the progress of an experiment in which i was engaged. during the night of april th, about a quarter to twelve, he had a severe attack and passed into a faint, from which he was brought back to consciousness with great difficulty. he seemed to recognise the approach of death, and said, "i am not the least afraid to die." all the next morning he suffered from terrible nausea and faintness, and hardly rallied before the end came. he died at about four o'clock on wednesday, april th, , in the th year of his age. i close the record of my father's life with a few words of retrospect added to the manuscript of his _autobiography_ in :-- "as for myself, i believe that i have acted rightly in steadily following and devoting my life to science. i feel no remorse from having committed any great sin, but have often and often regretted that i have not done more direct good to my fellow creatures." footnotes: [ ] on the action of carbonate of ammonia on roots and leaves. [ ] the allusion is to mr. huxley's address, "on the hypothesis that animals are automata, and its history," given at the belfast meeting of the british association, , and republished in _science and culture_. appendix i. the funeral in westminster abbey. on the friday succeeding my father's death, the following letter, signed by twenty members of parliament, was addressed to dr. bradley, dean of westminster:-- house of commons, april , . very rev. sir,--we hope you will not think we are taking a liberty if we venture to suggest that it would be acceptable to a very large number of our fellow-countrymen of all classes and opinions that our illustrious countryman, mr. darwin, should be buried in westminster abbey. we remain, your obedient servants, john lubbock, nevil storey maskelyne, a. j. mundella, g. o. trevelyan, lyon playfair, charles w. dilke, david wedderburn, arthur russell, horace davey, benjamin armitage, richard b. martin, francis w. buxton, e. l. stanley, henry broadhurst, john barran, j. f. cheetham, h. s. holland, h. campbell-bannerman, charles bruce, richard fort. the dean was abroad at the time, and telegraphed his cordial acquiescence. the family had desired that my father should be buried at down: with regard to their wishes, sir john lubbock wrote:-- house of commons, april , . my dear darwin,--i quite sympathise with your feeling, and personally i should greatly have preferred that your father should have rested in down amongst us all. it is, i am sure, quite understood that the initiative was not taken by you. still, from a national point of view, it is clearly right that he should be buried in the abbey. i esteem it a great privilege to be allowed to accompany my dear master to the grave. believe me, yours most sincerely, john lubbock. w. e. darwin, esq. the family gave up their first-formed plans, and the funeral took place in westminster abbey on april th. the pall-bearers were:-- sir john lubbock, mr. huxley, mr. james russell lowell (american minister), mr. a. r. wallace, the duke of devonshire, canon farrar, sir joseph hooker, mr. william spottiswoode (president of the royal society), the earl of derby, the duke of argyll. the funeral was attended by the representatives of france, germany, italy, spain, russia, and by those of the universities and learned societies, as well as by large numbers of personal friends and distinguished men. the grave is in the north aisle of the nave, close to the angle of the choir-screen, and a few feet from the grave of sir isaac newton. the stone bears the inscription-- charles robert darwin. born february, . died april, . appendix ii. portraits. -----+------------------+-----------------+-------------------- date.|description. |artist. |in the possession of -----+------------------+-----------------+-------------------- |water-colour |g. richmond |the family. |lithograph |ipswich british | | | assn. series. | |chalk drawing |samuel lawrence |the family. ?|chalk drawing[ ]|samuel lawrence |professor hughes, | | | cambridge. |bust, marble |t. woolner, r.a. |the family. |oil painting[ ] |w. ouless, r.a. |the family. |etched by |p. rajon. | |oil painting |w. b. richmond |the university of | | | cambridge. |oil painting[ ] |hon. john collier|the linnean society. |etched by |leopold flameng | chief portraits and memorials not taken from life. |statue[ ] |joseph boehm, |museum, south | | r.a. | kensington. |bust |chr. lehr, junr. | |plaque |t. woolner, r.a.,|christ's college, in | | and josiah | charles darwin's | | wedgwood and | room. | | sons. | |deep medallion. |j. boehm, r.a. |in westminster | | | abbey. -----+----------------+-----------------+-------------------- chief engravings from photographs. * ? by messrs. maull and fox, engraved on wood for _harper's magazine_ (oct. ). frontispiece, _life and letters_, vol. i. by the late mrs. cameron, reproduced in heliogravure by the cambridge engraving company for the present work. * ? by o. j. rejlander, engraved on steel by c. h. jeens for _nature_ (june , ). * ? by major darwin, engraved on wood for the _century magazine_ (jan. ). frontispiece, _life and letters_, vol. ii. by messrs. elliot and fry, engraved on wood by g. kruells, for vol. iii. of the _life and letters_. *the dates of these photographs must, from various causes, remain uncertain. owing to a loss of books by fire, messrs. maull and fox can give only an approximate date. mr. rejlander died some years ago, and his business was broken up. my brother, major darwin, has no record of the date at which his photograph was taken. footnotes: [ ] probably a sketch made at one of the sittings for the last-mentioned. [ ] a _replica_ by the artist is in the possession of christ's college, cambridge. [ ] a _replica_ by the artist is in the possession of w. e. darwin, esq., southampton. [ ] a cast from this work is now placed in the new museums at cambridge. index. abbott, f. e., letters to, on religious opinions, . aberdeen, british association meeting at, .. . abstract ('origin of species'), , , , . agassiz, louis, professor, letter to, sending him the 'origin of species,' ; note on, and extract from letter to, ; opinion of the book, ; opposition to darwin's views, ; asa gray on the opinions of, . agassiz, alexander, professor, letter to:--on coral reefs, . agnosticism, . ainsworth, william, . albums of photographs received from germany and holland, . algebra, distaste for the study of, . allfrey, dr., treatment by, . american edition of the 'origin,' . ---- civil war, the, . ammonia, salts of, behaviour of the leaves of _drosera_, towards, . andes, excursion across the, ; lyell on the slow rise of the, . animals, crossing of, . 'annals and magazine of natural history,' review of the 'origin' in the, . anti-jacobin, , _note_, . ants, slave-making, . apocyneæ, twisting of shoots of, . apparatus, - ; purchase of, for the zoological station at naples, . appletons' american reprints of the 'origin,' . ascension, . 'athenæum,' letter to the, ; article in the, ; reply to the article, . ---- review of the 'origin' in the, , ; reviews in the, of lyell's 'antiquity of man,' and huxley's 'man's place in nature,' , ; review of the 'variation of animals and plants,' in the, ; review of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' in the, . athenæum club, . 'atlantic monthly,' asa gray's articles in the, . atolls, formation of, . audubon, . autobiography, - . 'automata,' . aveling, dr., on c. darwin's religious views, , _note_. babbage and carlyle, . bachelor of arts, degree taken, . bär, karl ernest von, . bahia, forest scenery at, ; letter to r. w. darwin from, . barmouth, visit to, . bates, h. w., paper on mimetic butterflies, ; darwin's opinion of, _note_; 'naturalist on the amazons,' opinion of, ; letter to:--on his 'insect-fauna of the amazons valley,' . _beagle_, correspondence relating to the appointment to the, - . ----, equipment of the, ; accommodation on board the, ; officers and crew of the, , , ; manner of life on board the, . _beagle_, voyage of the, - . ----, zoology of the voyage of the, publication of the, . beans, stated to have grown on the wrong side of the pod, . bees, visits of, necessary for the impregnation of the scarlet bean, . bees' cells, sedgwick on, . ---- combs, . beetles, collecting at, cambridge, &c., , , , , . bell, professor thomas, . 'bell-stone,' shrewsbury, an erratic boulder, . beneficence, evidence of, . bentham, g., approval of the work on the fertilisation of orchids, . ----, letter to, on orchids, , . berkeley, rev. m. j., review of the 'fertilisation of orchids' by, . 'bermuda islands,' by prof. a. heilprin, . 'bibliothèque universelle de genève,' review of the 'origin' in the, . birds' nests, . blomefield, rev. l., see jenyns, rev. l. "bob," the retriever, . body-snatchers, arrest of, in cambridge, . books, treatment of, . boott, dr. francis, . botanical work, scope and influence of c. darwin's, , . botofogo bay, letter to w. d. fox from, , _note_. boulders, erratic, of south america, paper on the, , . bournemouth, residence at, . bowen, prof. f., asa gray on the opinions of, . branch-climbers, . bressa prize, award of the, by the royal academy of turin, . british association, sir c. lyell's presidential address to the, at aberdeen, .. ; at oxford, ; action of, in connection with the question of vivisection, . broderip, w. j., . bronn, h. g., translator of the 'origin' into german, . brown, robert, acquaintance with, ; recommendation of sprengel's book, . buckle, mr., meeting with, . bulwer's 'professor long,' . bunbury, sir c., his opinion of the theory, . butler, dr., schoolmaster at shrewsbury, . ----, rev. t., . caerdeon, holiday at, . cambridge, gun-practice at, ; life at, - , , - , . cambridge, degree of ll.d. conferred by university of, ; subscription portrait at, . ---- philosophical society, sedgwick's attack before the, . camerarius on sexuality in plants, . canary islands, projected excursion to, . cape verd islands, . carlyle, thomas, acquaintance with, . carnarvon, lord, proposed act to amend the law relating to cruelty to animals, . carnations, effects of cross- and self-fertilisation on, . carpenter, dr. w. b., letters to:--on the 'origin of species,' ; review in the 'medico-chirurgical review,' ; notice of the 'foraminifera,' in the _athenæum_, . carus, prof. victor, impressions of the oxford discussion, . ----, his translations of the 'origin' and other works, ; letter to:--on earthworms, . case, rev. g., schoolmaster at shrewsbury, . _catasetum_, pollinia of, adhering to bees' backs, ; sensitiveness of flowers of, . caterpillars, colouring of, , . cats and mice, . cattle, falsely described new breed of, . celebes, african character of productions of, . chambers, r., , . chemistry, study of, . chili, recent elevation of the coast of, . chimneys, employment of boys in sweeping, . christ's college, cambridge, ; bet as to height of combination-room of, . church, destination to the, , . cirripedia, work on the, , - ; confusion of nomenclature of, ; completion of work on the, . clark, sir andrew, treatment by, , . classics, study of, at dr. butler's school, . climbing plants, , - . 'climbing plants,' publication of the, . coal, supposed marine origin of, . coal-plants, letters to sir joseph hooker on, , . cobbe, miss, letter headed "mr. darwin and vivisection" in the _times_, . coldstream, dr., . collections made during the voyage of the 'beagle,' destination of the, . collier, hon. john, portrait of c. darwin, by, . cooper, miss, 'journal of a naturalist,' . copley medal, award of, to c. darwin, . coral reefs, work on, , ; publication of, . ----, second edition of, ; semper's remarks on the, ; murray's criticisms, ; third edition, . ---- and islands, prof. geikie and sir c. lyell on the theory of, . ---- and volcanoes, book on, . 'corals and coral islands,' by prof. j. d. dana, . corrections on proofs, , , . correspondence, . ---- during life at cambridge, - .. - ; relating to appointment on the 'beagle,' - ; during the voyage of the _beagle_, - ; during residence in london, - .. - ; on the subject of religion, - ; during residence at down, - .. - ; during the progress of the work on the 'origin of species,' - ; after the publication of the work, - ; on the 'variation of animals and plants,' - ; on the work on 'man,' - ; miscellaneous, - ; on botanical researches, - . cotyledons, movements of, . crawford, john, review of the 'origin,' . creation, objections to use of the term, . cross- and self-fertilisation in plants, . cross-fertilisation of hermaphrodite flowers, first ideas of the, . crossing of animals, . _cychnoches_, . _cypripedium_, pollen of, . dallas, w. s., translation of fritz müller's 'für darwin,' . dana, professor j. d., defence of the theory of subsidence, ; 'corals and coral islands,' . darwin, charles r., ; autobiography of, - ; birth, ; loss of mother, ; day-school at shrewsbury, ; natural history tastes, ; hoaxing, ; humanity, ; egg-collecting, ; angling, ; dragoon's funeral, ; boarding school at shrewsbury, ; fondness for dogs, ; classics, ; liking for geometry, ; reading, ; fondness for shooting, ; science, ; at edinburgh, - ; early medical practice at shrewsbury, ; tours in north wales, ; shooting at woodhouse and maer, , ; at cambridge, - , ; visit to north wales, with sedgwick, , ; on the voyage of the 'beagle,' - ; residence in london, - ; marriage, ; residence at down, ; publications, - ; manner of writing, ; mental qualities, - . darwin, reminiscences of, - ; personal appearance, , ; mode of walking, ; dissecting, ; laughing, ; gestures, ; dress, ; early rising, ; work, ; fondness for dogs, ; walks, ; love of flowers, ; riding, ; diet, , ; correspondence, ; business habits, ; smoking, ; snuff-taking, ; reading aloud, ; backgammon, ; music, ; bed-time, ; art-criticism, ; german reading, ; general interest in science, ; idleness a sign of ill-health, ; aversion to public appearances, ; visits, ; holidays, ; love of scenery, ; visits to hydropathic establishments, ; family relations, - ; hospitality, ; conversational powers, - ; friends, ; local influence, ; mode of work, ; literary style, ; ill-health, . ----, dr. erasmus, life of, by ernst krause, , . ----, erasmus alvey, ; letter from, . ----, miss susan, letters to:--relating the 'beagle,' appointment, , ; from valparaiso, . ----, mrs., letter to, with regard to the publication of the essay of .. ; letter to, from moor park, . ----, reginald, letters to, on dr. erasmus darwin's common-place book and papers, . darwin, dr. robert waring, ; his family, ; letter to, in answer to objections to accept the appointment on the 'beagle,' ; letter to, from bahia, . 'darwinismus,' . daubeny, professor, ; 'on the final causes of the sexuality of plants,' . davidson, mr., letter to, . dawes, mr., . de candolle, professor a., sending him the 'origin of species,' . 'descent of man,' work on the, ; publication of the, , . ----, reviews of the, in the 'edinburgh review,' ; in the _nonconformist_, ; in the _times_, ; in the _saturday review_, ; in the 'quarterly review,' . design in nature, , ; argument from, as to existence of god, . ----, evidence of, . _dielytra_, . 'different forms of flowers,' publication of the, , . digestion in _drosera_, , . dimorphism and trimorphism in plants, papers on, . divergence, principle of, . dohrn, dr. anton, letter to, offering to present apparatus to the zoological station at naples, . domestication, variation under, . down, residence at, , ; daily life at, ; local influence at, ; sequestered situation of, . dragoon, funeral of a, . draper, dr., paper before the british association on the "intellectual development of europe," . _drosera_, observations on, , ; action of glands of, ; action of ammoniacal salts on the leaves of, . dunns, rev. j., the supposed author of a review in the 'north british review,' . dutch translation of the 'origin,' . dyer, w. thiselton, on mr. darwin's botanical work, ; on the 'power of movement in plants,' ; note to, on the life of erasmus darwin, . ----, letter to:--on movement in plants, . earthquakes, paper on, . earthworms, paper on the formation of mould by the agency of, , ; first observations on work done by, ; work on, ; publication of, . edinburgh, plinian society, ; royal medical society, ; wernerian society, ; lectures on geology and zoology in, . ----, studies at, - . 'edinburgh review,' review of the 'origin' in the, , , ; review of the 'descent of man' in the, . 'effects of cross- and self-fertilisation in the vegetable kingdom,' publication of the, , , . elie de beaumont's theory, . england, spread of the descent-theory in, . _english churchman_, review of the 'origin' in the, . engravings, fondness for, . entomological society, concurrence of the members of the, . _epidendrum_, . equator, ceremony at crossing the, . erratic blocks, at glen roy, . ---- boulders of south america, paper on the, , . european opinions of darwin's work, dr. falconer on, . evolution, progress of the theory of, , , , . experiment, love of, . expression in man, , . ---- in the malays, . ---- of the emotions, work on the, . 'expression of the emotions in men and animals,' publication of the, , . eye, structure of the, , , . falconer, dr. hugh, . ----, claim of priority against lyell, ; letter from, offering a live _proteus_ and reporting on continental opinion, ; letter to, ; sending him the 'origin of species,' . family relations, - . farrer, sir thomas, letter to, on earthworms, . fawcett, henry, on huxley's reply to the bishop of oxford, , _note_. fernando noronha, visit to, . 'fertilisation of orchids,' publication of the, , , . '---- of orchids,' publication of second edition of the, . '---- of orchids,' reviews of the; in the 'parthenon,' ; in the _athenæum_, ; in the 'london review,' ; in _gardeners' chronicle_, . ----, cross- and self-, in the vegetable kingdom, - . ----, of flowers, bibliography of the, . fish swallowing seeds, . fitz-roy, capt., ; character of, ; by rev. g. peacock, ; darwin's impression of, , ; discipline on board the 'beagle,' ; letter to, from shrewsbury, . fitzwilliam gallery, cambridge, . flourens, 'examen du livre de m. darwin,' . flowers, adaptation of, to visits of insects, ; different forms of, on plants of the same species, , ; fertilisation of, - ; hermaphrodite, first ideas of cross-fertilisation of, ; irregular, all adapted for visits of insects, . _flustra_, paper on the larvæ of, . forbes, david, on the geology of chile, . fordyce, j., extract from letter to, . 'formation of vegetable mould, through the action of worms,' publication of the, , ; unexpected success of the, . fossil bones, given to the college of surgeons, . fox, rev. william darwin, ; letters to, - , , ; from botofogo bay, ; in - : , , ; on the house at down, ; on their respective families, ; on family matters, ; on the progress of the work, , , ; on the award of the copley medal, . france and germany, contrast of progress of theory in, . fremantle, mr., on the oxford meeting of the british association, . french, translation of the 'origin,' ; third edition of the, published, . ---- translation of the 'origin' from the fifth english edition, arrangements for the, . _fumaria_, . funeral in westminster abbey, . galapagos, . galton, francis, note to, on the life of erasmus darwin, . _gardeners' chronicle_, review of the 'origin' in the, ; mr. patrick matthew's claim of priority in the, ; review of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' in the, . geikie, prof. archibald, notes on the work on coral reefs, , ; notes on the work on volcanic islands, ; on darwin's theory of the parallel roads of glen roy, . geoffrey st. hilaire, . 'geological observations on south america,' ; publication of the, . 'geological observations on volcanic islands,' publication of the, ; prof. geikie's notes on the, . geological society, secretaryship of the, , . geological work in the andes, . 'geologist,' review of the 'origin' in the, . geology, commencement of the study of, , ; lectures on, in edinburgh, ; predilection for, , ; study of, during the _beagle's_ voyage, . german translation of the 'origin of species,' . germany, häckel's influence in the spread of darwinism, . ----, photograph-album received from, . ----, reception of darwinistic views in, . ---- and france, contrast of progress of theory in, . glacial period, influence of the, on distribution, . glacier action in north wales, . glands, sticky, of the pollinia, . glen roy, visit to, and paper on, ; expedition to, . _glossotherium_, . glutton club, . gorilla, brain of, compared with that of man, . gower street, upper, residence in, , . graham, w., letter to, . grant, dr. r. e., ; an evolutionist, . gravity, light, &c., acting as stimuli, . gray, dr. asa, comparison of rain drops and variations, ; letter from, to j. d. hooker, on the 'origin of species,' ; articles in the 'atlantic monthly,' ; 'darwiniana,' ; on the aphorism, "nature abhors close fertilisation," ; "note on the coiling of the tendrils of plants," . ----, letters to: on design in nature, ; with abstract of the theory of the 'origin of species,' ; sending him the 'origin of species,' ; suggesting an american edition, ; on sedgwick's and pictet's reviews, ; on notices in the 'north british' and 'edinburgh' reviews, and on the theological view, ; on the position of profs. agassiz and bowen, ; on his article in the 'atlantic monthly,' ; on change of species by descent, ; on design, ; on the american war, ; on the 'descent of man,' ; on the biographical notice in 'nature,' ; on their election to the french institute, ; on fertilisation of papilionaceous flowers and _lobelia_ by insects, , ; on the structure of irregular flowers, ; on orchids, , , , ; on movement of tendrils, ; on climbing plants, ; on _drosera_, , . great marlborough street, residence in, , . gretton, mr., his 'memory's harkback,' . grote, a., meeting with, . gully, dr., . günther, dr. a., letter to:--on sexual differences, . häckel, professor ernst, embryological researches of, ; influence of, in the spread of darwinism in germany, . ----, letters to:--on the progress of evolution in england, ; on his works, ; on the 'descent of man,' ; on the 'expression of the emotions,' . häckel's 'generelle morphologie,' 'radiolaria,' 'schöpfungs-geschichte,' and 'ursprung des menschen-geschlechts,' , . ---- 'natürliche schöpfungs-geschichte,' ; huxley's opinion of, . hague, james, on the reception of the 'descent of man,' . haliburton, mrs., letter to, on the 'expression of the emotions,' ; letter to, . hardie, mr., . harris, william snow, . haughton, professor s., opinion on the new views of wallace and darwin, ; criticism on the theory of the origin of species, . health, ; improved during the last ten years of life, . heart, pain felt in the region of the, , , . heilprin, professor a., 'the bermuda islands,' . heliotropism of seedlings, . henslow, professor, lectures by, at cambridge, ; introduction to, ; intimacy with, , ; his opinion of lyell's 'principles,' ; of the darwinian theory, . ----, letter from, on the offer of the appointment to the 'beagle,' . ----, letter to, from rev. g. peacock, . ----, letters to:--relating to the appointment to the 'beagle,' , ; from rio de janeiro, ; from sydney, ; from shrewsbury, ; as to destination of specimens collected during the voyage of the 'beagle,' . ----, letters to:-- - , ; sending him the 'origin,' . herbert, john maurice, ; anecdotes from, , , ; letters to, ; on the 'south american geology,' . hermaphrodite flowers, first idea of cross-fertilisation of, . herschel, sir j., acquaintance with, ; letter from sir c. lyell to, on the theory of coral-reefs, ; his opinion of the 'origin,' . heterostyled plants, ; some forms of fertilisation of, analogous to hybridisation, . 'historical sketch of the recent progress of opinion on the origin of species,' . hoaxes, . holidays, . holland, photograph-album received from, . holland, sir h., his opinions of the theory, . holmgren, frithiof, letter to, on vivisection, . hooker, sir j. d., on the training obtained by the work on cirripedes, ; letters from, on the 'origin of species,' , , ; speech at oxford, in answer to bishop wilberforce, ; review of the 'fertilisation of orchids' by, . ----, letters to, ; on coal-plants, , ; announcing death of r. w. darwin, and an intention to try water-cure, ; on the award of the royal society's medal, ; on the theory of the origin of species, , ; cirripedial work, ; on the philosophical club, ; on the germination of soaked seeds, , ; on the preparation of a sketch of the theory of species, ; on the papers read before the linnean society, , ; on the 'abstract,' , , , ; on thistle-seeds, ; on wallace's letter, ; on the arrangement with mr. murray, ; on professor haughton's remarks, ; on style and variability, ; on the completion of proof-sheets, ; on the review of the 'origin' in the _athenæum_, , ; on his review in the _gardeners' chronicle_, ; on the progress of opinion, ; on mr. matthew's claim of priority and the 'edinburgh review,' ; on the cambridge opposition, ; on the british association discussion, ; on the review in the 'quarterly,' ; on the corrections in the new edition, ; on lyell's 'antiquity of man,' ; on letters in the papers, ; on the completion and publication of the book on 'variation under domestication,' , ; on pangenesis, ; on work, ; on a visit to wales, ; on a new french translation of the 'origin,' ; on the life of erasmus darwin, ; on mr. ouless' portrait, ; on the earthworm, ; on the fertilisation of orchids, , , , , , ; on establishing a hot-house, ; on his review of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' ; on climbing plants, : on the 'insectivorous plants,' , ; on the movements of plants, ; on health and work, . hooker, sir j. d., 'himalayan journal,' . horner, leonard, . horses, humanity to, . hot-house, building of, . humboldt, baron a. von, meeting with, ; his opinion of c. darwin, . humboldt's 'personal narrative,' . huth, mr., on 'consanguineous marriage,' . hutton, prof. f. w., letter to, on his review of the 'origin,' . huxley, prof. t. h., on the value as training, of darwin's work on the cirripedes, ; on the theory of evolution, - ; review of the 'origin' in the 'westminster review,' ; reply to owen, on the brain in man and the gorilla, ; speech at oxford, in answer to the bishop, ; lectures on 'our knowledge of the causes of organic nature,' , _note_; opinion of häckel's work, ; on the progress of the doctrine of evolution, ; article in the 'contemporary review,' against mivart, and the quarterly reviewer of the 'descent of man,' ; lecture on 'the coming of age of the origin of species,' ; on teleology, . ----, letters from, on the 'origin of species,' ; on the discussion at oxford, . ----, letters to:--on his adoption of the theory, ; on the review in the _times_, ; on the effect of reviews, ; on his edinburgh lectures, ; on 'the coming of age of the origin of species,' ; last letter to, . hybridisation, analogy of, with some forms of fertilisation of heterostyled plants, . hybridism, . hybrids, sterility of, . hydropathic establishments, visits to, . ichnuemonidæ, and their function, . ilkley, residence at, in .. . ill-health, , , , , , , . immortality of the soul, . innes, rev. j. brodie, , . ----, on darwin's position with regard to theological views, ; note on the review in the 'quarterly' and darwin's appreciation of it, , _note_. 'insectivorous plants,' work on the, - ; publication of, , . insects, ; agency of, in cross-fertilisation, . institute of france, election as a corresponding member of the botanical section of the, . isolation, effects of, . jackson, b. daydon, preparation of the kew-index placed under the charge of, . jenkin, fleeming, review of the 'origin,' . jenyns, rev. leonard, acquaintance with, ; his opinion of the theory, . ----, letters to:--on the 'origin of species,' ; on checks to increase of species, ; on his 'observations in natural history,' ; on the immutability of species, . jones, dr. bence, treatment by, . 'journal of researches,' , ; publication of the second edition of the, ; differences in the two editions of the, with regard to the theory of species, . judd, prof., on coral reefs, ; on mr. darwin's intention to devote a certain sum to the advancement of scientific interests, . jukes, prof. joseph b., . kew-index of plant names, ; endowment of, by mr. darwin, . kidney-beans, fertilisation of, . kingsley, rev. charles, letter from, on the 'origin of species,' ; on the progress of the theory of evolution, . kossuth, character of, . krause, ernst, 'life of erasmus darwin,' ; on häckel's services to the cause of evolution in germany, ; on the work of dr. erasmus darwin, . lamarck's philosophy, . ---- views, references to, , , , . lankester, e. ray, letter to, on the reception of the 'descent of man,' . last words, . _lathyrus grandiflorus_, fertilisation of, by bees, . laws, designed, . leibnitz, objections raised by, to newton's law of gravitation, . _leschenaultia_, fertilisation of, . lewes, g. h., review of the 'variation of animals and plants,' in the _pall mall gazette_, . life, origin of, . light, gravity, &c., acting as stimuli, . lightning, . _linaria vulgaris_, observations on cross- and self-fertilisation in, . lindley, john, . linnean society, joint paper with a. r. wallace, read before the, ; portrait at the, . _linum flavum_, dimorphism of, . list of naturalists who had adopted the theory in march, .. . literature, taste in, . little-go, passed, . _lobelia fulgens_, not self-fertilisable, . london, residence in, - ; from to .. - . 'london review,' review of the 'fertilisation of orchids' in the, . lonsdale, w., . lubbock, sir john, letter from, to w. e. darwin, on the funeral in westminster abbey, ; letter to:--on beetle-collecting, . lyell, sir charles, acquaintance with, ; character of, ; influence of, on geology, ; geological views, ; on darwin's theory of coral islands, ; extract of letter to, on the treatise on volcanic islands, ; attitude towards the doctrine of evolution, , ; announcement of the forthcoming 'origin of species,' to the british association at aberdeen in .. ; letter from, criticising the 'origin,' ; bishop wilberforce's remarks upon, , _note_; inclination to accept the notion of design, ; on darwin's views, ; on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' . ----, sir charles, letters to, , :-- on the second edition of the 'journal of researches,' ; on the receipt of wallace's paper, , ; on the papers read before the linnean society, ; on the mode of publication of the 'origin,' , ; with proof-sheets, ; on the announcement of the work of the british association, ; on his adoption of the theory of descent, ; on objectors to the theory of descent, , ; on the second edition of the 'origin,' , ; on the review of the 'origin' in the 'annals,' ; on objections, ; on the review in the 'edinburgh review,' and on matthew's anticipation of the theory of natural selection, ; on design in variation, ; on the 'antiquity of man,' , ; on the progress of opinion, ; on 'pangenesis,' ; on drosera, . lyell, sir charles, 'antiquity of man,' , . ----, 'elements of geology,' . ----, 'principles of geology.' ; tenth edition of, . _lythrum_, trimorphism of, . macaulay, meeting with, . macgillivray, william, . mackintosh, sir james, meeting with, . 'macmillan's magazine,' review of the 'origin' in, by h. fawcett, , _note_. _macrauchenia_, . mad-house, attempt to free a patient from a, , _note_. maer, visits to, , . malay archipelago, wallace's 'zoological geography' of the, . malays, expression in the, . malthus on _population_, , . malvern, hydropathic treatment at, , . mammalia, fossil from south america, . man, descent of, ; objections to discussing origin of, ; brain of, and that of the gorilla, ; influence of sexual selection upon the races of, ; work on, . marriage, , . mathematics, difficulties with, ; distaste for the study of, . matthew, patrick, claim of priority in the theory of natural selection, . 'medico-chirurgical review,' review of the 'origin' in the, by w. b. carpenter, . mellersh, admiral, reminiscences of c. darwin, . mendoza, . mental peculiarities, - . microscopes, ; compound, . mimicry, h. w. bates on, . minerals, collecting, . miracles, . mivart's 'genesis of species,' . moor park, hydropathic establishment at, . ----, water-cure at, . moore, dr. norman, treatment by, . _mormodes_, . moths, white, mr. weir's observations on, . motley, meeting with, . mould, formation of, by the agency of earthworms, paper on the, , ; publication of book on the, . 'mount,' the shrewsbury, charles darwin's birthplace, . müller, fritz, embryological researches of, . ----, 'für darwin,' ; 'facts and arguments for darwin,' . ----, fritz, observations on branch-tendrils, . ----, hermann, ; on self-fertilisation of plants, ; on sprengel's views as to cross-fertilisation, . murray, john, criticisms on the darwinian theory of coral formation, . murray, john, letters to:--relating to the publication of the 'origin of species,' , , ; on the reception of the 'origin' in the united states, _note_; on the third edition of the 'origin,' ; on critiques of the 'descent of man,' ; on the publication of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' , ; on the publication of 'climbing plants,' . music, effects of, ; fondness for, , ; taste for, at cambridge, . _mylodon_, . names of garden plants, difficulty of obtaining, . naples, zoological station, donation of £ to the, for apparatus, . nash, mrs., reminiscences of mr. darwin, . natural history, early taste for, . ---- selection, , . ---- belief in, founded on general considerations, ; h. c. watson on, ; priority in the theory of, claimed by mr. patrick matthew, ; sedgwick on, . naturalists, list of, who had adopted the theory in march, .. . _naturalist's voyage_, . 'nature,' review in, . "nervous system of" _drosera_, . newton, prof. a., letter to, . newton's 'law of gravitation,' objections raised by leibnitz to, . nicknames on board the _beagle_, . nitrogenous compounds, detection of, by the leaves of _drosera_, . 'nomenclator,' ; endowment by mr. darwin, ; plan of the, . nomenclature, need of reform in, . _nonconformist_, review of the 'descent of man' in the, . 'north british review,' review of the 'origin' in the, , . north wales, tours through, ; tour in, ; visit to, with sedgwick, ; visit to, in .. . nose, objection to shape of, . novels, liking for, , . nuptial dress of animals, . observation, methods of, , . ----, power of, . old testament, darwinian theory contained in the, . oliver, prof., approval of the work on the 'fertilisation of orchids,' . orchids, fertilisation of, bearing of the, on the theory of natural selection, ; fertilisation of, work on the, ; homologies of, ; study of, , ; pleasure of investigating, . _orchis pyramidalis_, adaptation in, . orders, thoughts of taking, . organs, rudimentary, comparison of, with unsounded letters in words, . origin of species, first notes on the, ; investigations upon the, - ; progress of the theory of the, ; differences in the two editions of the 'journal' with regard to the, ; extracts from note-books on the, ; first sketch of work on the, ; essay of on the, . 'origin of species,' publication of the first edition of the, , ; success of the, ; reviews of the, in the _athenæum_, , ; in 'macmillan's magazine,' ; in the _times_, ; in the _gardeners' chronicle_, ; in the 'annals and magazine of natural history,' ; in the _spectator_, ; in the 'bibliothèque universelle de genève,' ; in the medico-chirurgical review,' ; in the 'westminster review,' ; in the 'edinburgh review,' , , ; in the 'north british review,' ; in the _saturday review_, ; in the 'quarterly review,' ; in the 'geologist,' . ----, publication of the second edition of the, . ----, third edition, commencement of work upon the, . ----, publication of the fifth edition of the, , . ----, sixth edition, publication of the, . ----, the 'coming of age' of the, . ouless, w., portrait of mr. darwin by, . owen, sir r., on the differences between the brains of man and the gorilla, ; reply to lyell, on the difference between the human and simian brains, ; claim of priority, . oxford, british association meeting, discussion at, - . paley's writings, study of, . _pall mall gazette_, review of the variation of animals and plants,' in the, . pangenesis, . papilionaceæ, papers on cross-fertilisation of, . parallel roads of glen roy, paper on the, . parasitic worms, experiments on, . parslow, joseph, , _note_. 'parthenon,' review of the 'fertilisation of orchids,' in the, . pasteur's results upon the germs of diseases, . patagonia, . peacock, rev. george, letter from, to professor henslow, . philosophical club, . ---- magazine, . photograph-albums received from germany and holland, . pictet, professor f. j., review of the 'origin' in the 'bibliothèque universelle,' . pictures, taste for, acquired at cambridge, . pigeons, nasal bones of, . plants, climbing, , - ; insectivorous, , - ; power of movement in, , - ; garden, difficulty of naming, ; heterostyled, polygamous, dioecious and gynodioecious, . pleasurable sensations, influence of, in natural selection, . plinian society, . poetry, taste for, ; failure of taste for, . pollen, conveyance of, by the wings of butterflies and moths, . ----, differences in the two forms of primrose, . "polly," the fox-terrier, . _pontobdella_, egg-cases of, . portraits, list of, . "pour le mérite," the order, , _note_. pouter pigeons, . powell, prof. baden, his opinion on the structure of the eye, . 'power of movement in plants,' , - ; publication of the, . preyer, prof. w., letter to, . primrose, heterostyled flowers of the, ; differences of the pollen in the two forms of the, . _primula_, dimorphism of, paper on the, . _primulæ_, said to have produced seed without access of insects, . _proteus_, . publication of the 'origin of species,' arrangements connected with the, - . publications, account of, - . _public opinion_, squib in, . quarterly journal of science, review of the 'expression of the emotions,' in the, . 'quarterly review,' review of the 'origin' in the, ; darwin's appreciation of it, , _note_; review of the 'descent of man' in the, . rabbits, asserted close interbreeding of, . ramsay, sir andrew, . ----, mr., . reade, t. mellard, note to, on the earthworms, . rein, dr. j. j., account of the bermudas, . reinwald, m., french translation of the 'origin' by, . religious views, - ; general statement of, - . reverence, development of the bump of, . reversion, . reviewers, . rich, anthony, letter to, on the book on 'earthworms,' ; bequest from, . richmond, w., portrait of c. darwin by, . rio de janeiro, letter to j. s. henslow, from, . rogers, prof. h. d., . romanes, g. j., account of a sudden attack of illness, . ----, letter to, on vivisection, . roots, sensitiveness of tips of, to contact, . royal commission on vivisection, . royal medical society, edinburgh, . ---- society, award of the royal medal to c. darwin, ; award of the copley medal to c. darwin, . royer, mdlle. clémence, french translation of the 'origin' by, ; publication of third french edition of the 'origin,' and criticism of pangenesis by, . rudimentary organs, ; comparison of, with unsounded letters in words, . sabine, sir e., ; reference to darwin's work in his presidential address to the royal society, . sachs on the establishment of the idea of sexuality in plants, . st. helena, . st. jago, cape verd islands, ; geology of, . st. john's college, cambridge, strict discipline at, . st. paul's island, visit to, . salisbury craigs, trap-dyke in, . "sand walk," last visit to the, . san salvador, letter to r. w. darwin from, . saporta, marquis de, his opinion in .. . _saturday review_, article in the, ; review of the 'descent of man' in the, . _scelidotherium_, . scepticism, effects of, in science, . science, early attention to, ; general interest in, . scott, sir walter, . sea-sickness, , . sedgwick, professor adam, introduction to, ; visit to north wales with, ; opinion of c. darwin, ; letter from, on the 'origin of species,' ; review of the 'origin' in the _spectator_, ; attack before the 'cambridge philosophical society,' . seedlings, heliotropism of, . seeds, experiments on the germination of, after immersion, , . selection, natural, , ; influence of, . ----, sexual, in insects, ; influence of, upon races of man, . semper, professor karl, on coral reefs, . sex in plants, establishment of the idea of, . sexual selection, ; influence of, upon races of man, . sexuality, origin of, . shanklin, . shooting, fondness for, , . shrewsbury, schools at, , ; return to, ; early medical practice at, . _sigillaria_, . silliman's journal, reviews in, , , , . slavery, . slaves, sympathy with, . sleep-movements of plants, . smith, rev. sydney, meeting with, . snipe, first, . snowdon, ascent of, . son, eldest, birth of, ; observations on, . south america, publication of the geological observations on, . species, accumulation of facts relating to, - , ; checks to the increase of, ; mutability of, ; progress of the theory of the, ; differences with regard to the, in the two editions of the 'journal,' ; extracts from note-books on, ; first sketch of the, ; essay of on the, . _spectator_, review of the 'origin' in the, . spencer, herbert, an evolutionist, . sprengel, c. k., on cross-fertilisation of hermaphrodite flowers, . ----, 'das entdeckte geheimniss der natur,' . stanhope, lord, . sterility, in heterostyled plants, . steudel's 'nomenclator,' . stokes, admiral lort, . strickland, h. e., letter to, on nomenclature, . 'struggle for existence,' , . style, ; defects of, . suarez, t. h. huxley's study of, . subsidence, theory of, . suffering, evidence from, as to the existence of god, , , . sulivan, sir b. j., letter to, . ----, reminiscences of c. darwin, . sundew, , _see_ drosera. sydney, letter to j. s. henslow from, . teleology, revival of, . ---- and morphology, reconciliation of, by darwinism, , _note_. tendrils of plants, irritability of the, . teneriffe, ; desire to visit, ; projected excursion to, . theological views, . theology and natural history, . thistle-seeds, conveyance of, by wind, . thompson, professor d'arcy, literature of the fertilisation of flowers, . thwaites, g. h. k., . tierra del fuego, . _times_, review of the 'origin' in the, , ; review of the 'descent of man' in the, ; letter to, on vivisection, ; article on mr. darwin in the, . title-page, proposed, of the 'origin of species,' . torquay, visit to ( ), . _toxodon_, . translations of the 'origin' into french, dutch and german, . transmutation of species, investigations on the, ; first note-book on the, . trimorphism and dimorphism in plants, papers on, . tropical forest, first sight of, . turin, royal academy of, award of the bressa prize by the, . twining plants, . 'unfinished book,' . unitarianism, erasmus darwin's definition of, . unorthodoxy, . valparaiso, letter to miss s. darwin from, . _vanilla_, . variability, . 'variation of animals and plants under domestication,' publication of, , . '----,' reviews of the, in the _pall mall gazette_, ; in the _athenæum_, . vegetable kingdom, cross- and self-fertilisation in the, . 'vestiges of creation,' . victoria institute, analysis of the 'origin,' read before the, , _note_. vivisection, - ; opinion of, ; commencement of agitation against, and royal commission on, ; legislation on, . vogt, prof. carl, on the origin of species, . volcanic islands, geological observations on, publication of the, ; prof. geikie's notes on the, . volcanoes and coral-reefs, book on, . wagner, moritz, letter to, on the influence of isolation, . wallace, a. r., first essay on variability of species, , ; article in the 'quarterly review,' april, .. ; opinion of pangenesis, ; review of the 'expression of the emotions,' . ----, letters to,--on a paper by wallace, ; on the 'origin of species,' , ; on 'warrington's paper at the victoria institute,' , _note_; on man, ; on sexual selection, , ; on mr. wright's pamphlet in answer to mivart, ; on mivart's remarks and an article in the 'quarterly review,' ; on his criticism of mivart's 'lessons from nature,' ; last letter to, . wallace, a. r., letter from, to prof. a. newton, . warrington, mr., analysis of the 'origin' read by, to the victoria institute, , _note_. water-cure, at ilkley, ; at malvern, ; moor park, , . watkins, archdeacon, . watson, h. c., charge of egotism against c. darwin, ; on natural selection, . wedgwood, emma, married to c. darwin, . ----, josiah, character of, . ----, miss julia, letter to, . ----, susannah, married to r. w. darwin, . weir, j., jenner, observations on white moths, . westminster abbey, funeral in, . 'westminster review,' review of the 'origin,' in the, by t. h. huxley, . whale, secondary, . whewell, dr., acquaintance with, . whitley, rev. c., . wiesner, prof. julius, criticisms of the 'power of movement in plants,' ; letter to, on movement in plants, . wilberforce, bishop, his opinion of the 'origin,' ; speech at oxford against the darwinian theory, ; review of the 'origin' in the 'quarterly review,' . wollaston, t. v., review of the 'origin' in the 'annals,' . 'wonders of the world,' . wood, searles v., . woodhouse, shooting at, . work, ; method of, , - . ----, growing necessity of, . worms, formation of vegetable-mould by the action of, , , . wright, chauncey, article against mivart's 'genesis of species,' , . writing, manner of, , - . zacharias, dr., otto, letter to, on the theory of evolution, . zoology, lectures on, in edinburgh, . 'zoology of the voyage of the _beagle_,' arrangements for publishing the, ; government grant obtained for the, ; publication of the, , . printed by william clowes and sons limited, london and beccles. learn one thing every day june serial no. the mentor american naturalists by ernest ingersoll department of volume science number twenty cents a copy nature and the poet there are those who look at nature from the standpoint of conventional and artificial life--from parlor windows and through gilt-edged poems--the sentimentalists. at the other extreme are those who do not look at nature at all, but are a grown part of her, and look away from her toward the other class--the backwoodsmen and pioneers, and all rude and simple persons. then there are those in whom the two are united or merged--the great poets and artists. in them the sentimentalist is corrected and cured, and the hairy and taciturn frontiersman has had experience to some purpose. the true poet knows more about nature than the naturalist because he carries her open secret in his heart. eckerman could instruct goethe in ornithology, but could not goethe instruct eckerman in the meaning and mystery of the bird? * * * * * it is the soul the poet interprets, not nature. there is nothing in nature but what the beholder supplies. does the sculptor interpret the marble or his own ideal? is the music in the instrument, or in the soul of the performer? nature is a dead clod until you have breathed upon it with your own genius. you commence with your own soul, not with woods and waters; they furnish the conditions, and are what you make them. did shelley interpret the song of the skylark, or keats that of the nightingale? they interpreted their own wild, yearning hearts. you cannot find what the poets find in the woods until you take the poet's heart to the woods. he sees nature through a colored glass, sees it truthfully, but with an indescribable charm added, the aureole of the spirit. a tree, a cloud, a sunset, have no hidden meaning that the art of the poet is to unlock for us. every poet shall interpret them differently, and interpret them rightly, because the soul is infinite. nature is all things to men. the "light that never was on sea or land" is what the poet gives us, and is what we mean by the poetic interpretation of nature. * * * * * the poet does not so much read in nature's book--though he does this too--as write his own thoughts there; nature is the page and he the type, and she takes the impression he gives. of course the poet uses the truths of nature also, and he establishes his right to them by bringing them home to us with a new and peculiar force--a quickening or kindling force. what science gives is melted in the fervent heat of the poet's passion, and comes back supplemented by his quality and genius. he gives more than he takes, always. john burroughs. * * * * * ++the mentor association++ established for the development of popular interest in art, literature, music, science, history, nature and travel the mentor is published twice a month by the mentor association, inc., at - east th street, new york, n.y. subscription, four dollars a year. foreign postage cents extra. canadian postage cents extra. single copies twenty cents. president, thomas h. beck; vice-president, walter p. ten eyck; secretary, w.d. moffat; treasurer, j.s. campbell; assistant treasurer and assistant secretary, h.a. crowe. june th, volume number entered as second-class matter, march , , at the postoffice at new york, n.y., under the act of march , ; copyright, , by the mentor association, inc. [illustration: from a painting by john woodhouse audubon and victor gifford audubon. in the american museum of natural history, new york john j. audubon by courtesy of the museum] _american naturalists_ _john james audubon_ one "audubon," says a recent biographer, dr. francis hobart herrick, "did one thing in particular, that of making known to the world the birds of his adopted land, and did it so well that his name will be held in everlasting remembrance." the father of the future naturalist was a french seafaring man and merchant-adventurer. while engaged in the sugar trade he frequently visited the port of aux cayes, in the island then called santo domingo, but now known as haiti. as a dealer in west indian commodities, captain audubon became a man of fortune. the son born to him and a lady of french origin at aux cayes, in (not in louisiana in , as some writers give it), was christened jean jacques fougère. on being taken by his father to nantes, france, when he was four years old, the little boy was received into the household of madame audubon, his step-mother, and given the name of his father, jean audubon. even at this early period of his life young audubon forsook his classes at school to roam the woods searching for birds' nests. in his early teens he began to make drawings of birds that appeared near his home on the west coast of france. for a short time he studied in paris under the famous artist, jacques louis david. at eighteen, audubon was sent to america to learn the english language and the business methods of the new world. the tall, handsome boy found much happiness in discovering the wild denizens of his father's farm, "mill grove,"--a small estate near philadelphia purchased by captain audubon during a visit to the united states. here audubon first had opportunity to study american bird life. he was a nature lover, and he was also a gay young dandy, "notable for the elegance of his figure and the beauty of his features." when he met the charming lucy bakewell, whose father owned an adjoining estate, he immediately loved and courted her. it was she who became the guiding spirit of his life, who inspired him and, with material assistance, aided him to achieve his ambitions. though engaged in business, the youth's heart was in the woods and fields. his method of posing lifeless subjects was unique, and his drawings were expertly done and very natural. in , audubon married lucy bakewell and took her to live in the frontier settlement of louisville, kentucky. there a son was born. with a wife and child to support, audubon continued his career as a merchant, and for several years owned and operated a store and mill at henderson, kentucky. in he failed in business, saving only a few personal possessions, including his drawings and his gun. as taxidermist, teacher and artist he earned a scant living during several disheartening years. his wife took a position as governess, and later became mistress of a private school in the south. the impelling motive of the naturalist's life was now the publication of his "ornithology," for which he continued to make drawings under the most adverse conditions. often he was reduced to painting signs and giving music and dancing lessons. to earn a passage on a boat during an exploring tour he would sometimes offer to do crayon portraits of the captain and passengers. audubon's genius as a portrayer of birds was in time recognized by america's foremost artists. when he exhibited his work in england and scotland in , he was elected to membership in eminent societies. he resolved to publish his drawings under the title, "the birds of america," all to be "engraved on copper, to the size of life, and colored after the originals." the work was eventually issued ( ) in eighty-seven parts, which contained four hundred and thirty-five plates depicting more than a thousand individual birds, besides trees, flowers and animals native to the continent of north america. in america the price of the parts complete was one thousand dollars. today a perfect set is valued at four times the cost of the original. many famous men and institutions were numbered among audubon's subscribers to his various works on birds and mammals. sometimes accompanied by his sons, he traveled from labrador to florida and from maine almost as far west as the rockies, in his search for bird and animal models. in , audubon took possession of a fine house he had built on an estate overlooking the hudson, near what is now th street, new york. nine years later, "america's pioneer naturalist and animal painter" died here, surrounded by his devoted family. the house he erected remains in a fair state of preservation on a secluded plot of ground below riverside drive, and part of the land owned by him has been given the name, audubon park. his body rests on the hill above his home, in trinity cemetery, amid friendly trees that gave shade to the likely spot during his life time. audubon societies exist in many parts of america. the national association of audubon societies for the protection of wild birds and animals is an active monument to the work and ideals of the great naturalist. prepared by the editorial staff of the mentor association illustration for the mentor, vol. , no. , serial no. copyright, , by the mentor association, inc. [illustration: from a bust by w.e. couper. in the american museum of natural history, new york j. louis rodolphe agassiz by courtesy of the museum] _american naturalists_ _j. louis rodolphe agassiz_ two in a picturesque parsonage on the shore of the swiss lake of morat, there was born on may , , a child who was baptized jean louis rodolphe agassiz. his mother recognized early in his life the peculiar attraction of her son to nature's creatures. his intuitive understanding of animals and fishes she carefully nurtured. with his younger brother, auguste, the small louis delighted to catch the finny inhabitants of lake morat by dexterous methods of his own invention. he was taught until he was ten by his father, a clergyman, and his mother, a woman of excellent taste and education. at fourteen, when he was graduated from a boys' school at bienne, he defined his aims in this mature fashion: "i wish to advance in the sciences. i have resolved, as far as i am allowed to do so, to become a man of letters." in later years he wrote, "at that age, namely, about fifteen, i spent most of the time i could spare from classical and mathematical studies in hunting the neighboring woods and meadows for birds, insects, and land and fresh-water shells. my room became a little menagerie, while the stone basin under the fountain in our yard was my reservoir for all the fishes i could catch." at his eager request, louis was permitted to spend two years at the college of lausanne, switzerland, where he pursued with enthusiasm the study of nature. he afterwards attended the university of zurich and the university of heidelberg. at the latter famous seat of learning the young swiss naturalist, who intended to become a physician, pursued the study of anatomy, and passed hours collecting, arranging and analyzing plant and mineral specimens. at the age of twenty he became a student at the university of munich, where he found of the highest interest the study of the natural history of the fresh-water fishes of europe, while continuing his courses in medicine. the first work that gave his name distinction was a description, written in latin, of a collection of brazilian fishes that had been brought back from south america by the noted scientists, martius and spix. his profits consisted of only a few copies of the book, but the results were gratifying, as his work brought him to the favorable notice of cuvier (coo-vee-ay), the renowned french naturalist, who consulted the descriptions of agassiz in writing his own "history of fishes." in , agassiz went to paris, where he enlisted the friendly help of cuvier and the great alexander humboldt. it was his habit to work fifteen hours a day at the museum of natural history. he had only a small allowance from his father, and he was often hampered by poverty. returning from paris, agassiz lectured on natural history subjects in his native country. his exceptional ability attracted the interest of scientific men throughout europe and he received many honors and complimentary invitations. in he married the sister of his intimate friend, alexander braun, the botanist. the art of his wife in drawing and coloring illustrations for his volumes on fishes was of the greatest assistance to him. in the years that immediately followed his marriage, agassiz became interested in glacial research and was an important member of extended summer explorations in the alps. his theories relating to the structure of glaciers were incorporated in a book entitled "_système glaciare_." having for some time desired to continue his researches in the united states, it was with delight that he received in an invitation to give a course of lectures in boston. as a lecturer he met with such brilliant success that he was subsequently appointed professor of natural history at harvard. from this time until his death in , professor agassiz was identified with the cause of science in the united states. his work as a teacher was supplemented by repeated excursions to various parts of the continent with the object of studying forests, geological formations and zoology. though he had views that were then in opposition to popular opinion, it has been said that, "everywhere and foremost a teacher, no educational influence of his time was so great as that exerted by him." the splendid museum of comparative zoology at cambridge, massachusetts, is a lasting memorial to the ardor and devotion of louis agassiz. a son, who bore his name, did much to perpetuate the aims of this institution, besides being a distinguished investigator on his own account. a few years after his arrival in america, his wife having died, professor agassiz married elizabeth cabot carey, a writer and teacher. she accompanied the agassiz expedition to brazil in , and was also a member of the hasler deep-sea dredging expedition in - . the last enterprise fathered by agassiz was the summer school of natural history that he established on the coast of massachusetts a few months before his death, at the age of sixty-six. his resting-place in mount auburn cemetery, cambridge, is marked by a boulder from the swiss glacier of the aar where he pursued his first studies in glacial science, and the pine trees about it were taken from swiss soil. thus, writes mrs. agassiz, "the land of his birth and the land of his adoption are united in his grave." [illustration: from the rouse crayon portrait made in . now in the concord public library henry david thoreau from the walden edition of thoreau's writings. by courtesy of houghton mifflin company] _american naturalists_ _henry david thoreau_ three the grandfather of america's first renowned native-born naturalist emigrated from the island of jersey before the american revolution. in boston he married a scotchwoman. his son john also married a lady of scotch descent, and engaged in the industry of pencil-making in concord, massachusetts. there henry thoreau was born in the month of july, . his mother, a staunch, keen, observant woman "with a great love of nature," used to take her children into the woods and show them the wonders and beauties of wild life. even as a small boy henry had opinions and expressed them with independence, he was honest--"straight as a furrow"--sensible, good-tempered and industrious. the thoreau family made willing sacrifices so that henry, the second son, could enter harvard when he was sixteen. when he was graduated he taught for awhile in concord and on staten island, but found the occupation uncongenial, and soon took to less scholarly ways of making a living. nimbly he turned from one trade to another. he did surveying, or built a neighbor's fence, planted a garden, or worked with his father in the pencil shop. he was thorough and efficient in all that he did, but, whatever the means of livelihood, he pursued it with the single purpose of securing just enough money to support his frugal needs while he went off on woodland excursions, communing, studying, writing. simple thrifty neighbors regarded thoreau as a visionary and reproached him for his lack of the practical virtues that they held in esteem. they called him lazy. thoreau (he pronounced it "thorough"), however, was not wasting time. he kept a daily journal, from which several characteristic and delightfully refreshing volumes were later compiled. when still a young man, thoreau resolved to seek a retreat in the woods where he could live undisturbed in his enjoyment of the "indescribable innocence and beneficence of nature." emerson, a close friend in whose house he had lived for a time, granted him the use of some land near walden pond, about a mile and a half from concord. thoreau cleared the woodland site himself and erected a small shelter, at whose "raising" a number of notable literary men were present. beginning with the summer of , this philosopher with the "thin, penetrating, big-nosed face," the deep-set eyes and spare, long-limbed figure, this naturalist who used neither trap nor gun, lived in his hut, remaining for about two years. he planted enough ground to give him food, and often received his friends, who sincerely loved him for his unique qualities of mind and soul. at walden thoreau compiled and wrote two of his best-known books--"a week on the concord and merrimack rivers" and "walden, or life in the woods." the latter has gone into many editions in several languages. thoreau avowed, "i went to the woods because i wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life." so he lived, a happy stoic, beside his little lake. "a lake," said he, "is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. it is the earth's eye, looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.... it is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose gilding nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh, ... swept by the sun's hazy brush." in the solitude of his days the lake-dweller found himself "no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a bumble-bee. i am no more lonely than the mill brook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or the south wind, or the first spider in a new house." he describes with affection "the old settler and original proprietor who is reported to have dug walden pond, and stoned it, and fringed it with pine woods"; and that "elderly dame" who lived in his neighborhood, "invisible to most persons, in whose odorous herb garden i love to stroll some times, gathering samples and listening to her fables; for she has a genius of unequaled fertility. her memory runs back farther than mythology, and she can tell me the original of every fable, and on what fact everyone is founded, for the incidents occurred when she was young. a ruddy and lusty old dame, who delights in all weathers and seasons, and is likely to outlive all her children yet." thoreau's vigorous, contented years came to a close in , when he was only forty-five. he sleeps in the burying-ground of his well-loved concord, from which he rarely strayed far during his lifetime. said his friend, william ellery channing, "his love of wildness was real. this child of an old civilization, this norman boy with the blue eyes and brown hair, held the indian's creed, and believed in the essential worth and integrity of plant and animal. this was a religion; to us mythical. so far a recluse as never to seek popular ends, he was yet gifted with the ability and courage to be a captain of men. heroism he possessed in its highest sense,--the will to use his means to his ends, and these the best." [illustration: from the john muir memorial number of the sierra club bulletin john muir w.f. dassonville, photographer] _american naturalists_ _john muir_ four in john muir's own story of his boyhood and youth he declares, "when i was a boy in scotland i was fond of everything that was wild, and all my life i've been growing fonder and fonder of wild places and wild creatures." muir was born at dunbar, on the stormy coast of scotland, april , . from his grandfather he learned his letters, before he was three years old, with the aid of shop signs. his was an adventurous boyhood, punctuated by riotous school fights, hunts for skylark's nests and fox holes, scrambles among the crags of dunbar castle, games of running, jumping and wrestling, and repeated chastisements by a father who believed in the efficacy of the rod, and used it to emphasize his disapproval of "shore and field wanderings." a grammar-school reader gave the scotch lad his first knowledge of the birds and trees of america. eagerly he read descriptions of the fish hawk and the bald eagle by alexander wilson, the scotch naturalist, and audubon's wonderful story of the passenger pigeon. when john muir was eleven years old he crossed the atlantic in a sailing-vessel with his father, a sister and a brother. in wisconsin the father set about preparing a home for the wife and children waiting in scotland. the future "patriarch of the mountains" spent joyous hours exploring pastures new--looking for songbirds' nests, game haunts and wildflower gardens. at night, when the household slept, he would creep out of bed, though weary after long hours of labor in the fields, and read his treasured books, or work on his inventions. for a few months he worked as assistant to an inventor in prairie du chien, wisconsin. longing to resume the education interrupted when he was eleven years old, the youth returned to madison, where, despite almost insurmountable handicaps, he was able to take a four-year course in the new state university. in vacation time he worked on a farm, cradling four acres of grain a day, then sitting up till midnight to analyze and classify plants native to the region. at the end of four years the embryo naturalist, geologist, explorer, philosopher and protector of nature left his alma mater. in his own words, he was "only leaving one university for another, the wisconsin university for the university of the wilderness." as a young man muir traveled to the pacific coast. there he met dr. john strenzel, a polish revolutionist who had escaped from siberia, and had gained fame as "the first experimental horticulturist in california after the mission fathers." the young scotch scientist was taken to a hill-top opposite san francisco to see the strenzel orchards. on this hill he wooed the darkly beautiful benicia strenzel, and here he made her his wife, and lived with her and their children and grandchildren; and here above suisun bay, lie john and benicia muir in a corner of the orchard where the trees shed their blooms in the springtime. dr. strenzel gave his ranch to his daughter and her husband when they were married. muir cultivated the fruit trees, the grape vines and grain fields with such skill and diligence that he reaped a goodly fortune. he drove hard scotch bargains with marketmen--this great-hearted lover of mother nature. but the money he earned was for his family, not himself. says one who knew him well, "he wanted little that money can buy." of his friend edward h. harriman muir once remarked, "he's not as rich as i am. he has a hundred millions. i have all i want." while his crops were ripening, this dramatist of the out-of-doors would take himself to the mountains, abide on the flowery uplands, study the ways of birds and squirrels, of big trees and cataracts and glaciers. in he went to alaska. during his explorations he discovered glacier bay and the immense ice field now known to the world as muir glacier. for several years he made his summer home in the yosemite valley, acquainting himself with its botanical and geological features and making notes for future books. an appeal issued in his name in led to the creation of the yosemite valley and surrounding forests as a national reserve. muir has been called the pioneer of our system of national parks. in the cause of science he traveled to siberia, south america, africa and india. "tall, lean, craggy,"--a great tree of a man himself, he knew the forests of the world. john muir, "grandest character in nature literature," died at the age of seventy-six on the day before christmas, . he was the author of several rare volumes of essays and reminiscences, most of which were published after he had reached the age of seventy. "to read muir," says a critic of american literature, "is to be with a tempestuous soul whose units are storms and mountain ranges and mighty glacial moraines, who cries 'come with me along the glaciers and see god making landscapes!'" yet, "look at that little muggins of a fir cone!" the interpreter of titanic symbols would exclaim, lovingly stroking a brown trophy of his beloved woods. said a companion of muir's during a scientific expedition, "flakes of snow and crumbs of granite were to him real life." his study of the water ouzel is called the "finest bird biography in existence." he loved also to tell of the douglas squirrel, "whose musical, piney gossip," wrote he, "is savory to the ear as balsam to the palate." [illustration: from a bust by c.s. pietro in the american museum of natural history, new york john burroughs by courtesy of the museum] _american naturalists_ _john burroughs_ five from his maternal grandfather, who was american-born but of irish ancestry, john burroughs avers he gets his "dreamy, lazy, shirking ways." that burroughs, the poet of bee and bird, of flower and tree, has dreamed to good account, all who read and love him know. he got his first taste for out-door diversions in the company of his aged grandparent, as together they fished the streams of delaware county, new york,--the old man mingling tales of soldier days at valley forge with stories about snakes and birds. burroughs was born in roxbury, new york, april , . in after years he wrote, "april is my natal month, and i am born again into new-delight at each return of it." his father was a school teacher turned farmer. burroughs' mother had little schooling, but, he says, "i owe to my mother my temperament, my love of nature, my brooding, introspective habit of mind--all those things which in a literary man help to give atmosphere to his work. the celtic element, which i get mostly from her side, has no doubt played an important part in my life. my idealism, my romantic tendencies, are largely her gift." young john was usually engaged outside of school hours doing chores in field and garden, but he was never too busy to raise his head at the note of a "brown thrasher," or stop to inquire into the ways of a wild flower nodding in his path. he went hunting, but he used to come back with little game. he was too intent on watching the behavior of fox and pigeon to aim his gun. he says in dr. barrus' intimate biography, "our friend john burroughs," "i knew pretty well the ways of wild bees and hornets when i was only a small lad. what, or who, as i grew up, gave my mind its final push in this direction would not be easy to name. it is quite certain that i got it through literature, and more especially through the works of audubon." he acknowledges, also, the influence of thoreau, and of emerson, "who kindled the love of nature in me." by doing farm work and by teaching burroughs saved enough money to enter an institute not far from his home. he returned from his first visit to new york "with an empty pocket and an empty stomach, but with a bagful of books." all his money had been spent at second-hand book-stalls. for several years he taught school, marrying a pupil, ursula north, in the meantime. he was twenty-six when, engaged in teaching near west point, he "chanced upon the works of audubon" in the library of the military academy. he relates, "it was like bringing together fire and powder. i was ripe for the adventure; i had leisure, i was in a good bird country, and i had audubon to stimulate me. how eagerly and joyously i took up the study! it gave to my walks a new delight; it made me look upon every grove and wood as a new storehouse of possible treasures." his earliest contribution to nature literature, a paper entitled "the return of the birds," was completed when he was a clerk in the office of the comptroller of the currency, in washington. he held this position for ten years. in his spare moments he studied birds and wrote about them, finding that "he had only to unpack the memories of the farm boy to get at the main things about the common ones." the love of the great nature essayist for his native countryside pervades much that he has given us. "take the farm boy out of my books, and you have robbed them of something that is vital and fundamental," he avows. from the beginning he liked to write about rustic things--"sugar-making, cows, haying, stone walls." journeys to england, to the west indies, to alaska with the harriman expedition, to the grand canyon and the yosemite, which he explored with his friend john muir, to the yellowstone (he visited the national park in as the chosen companion of president theodore roosevelt), widened the sphere of john burroughs' happy bird and flower hunting-grounds. but he still loves best the scenes of his boyhood, and he often returns in summer to the catskills to revive memories, and write, and muse on the beauties of the delaware county hills and vales. his home above the hudson, at riverby, west park, where he has lived for nearly half a century, and slabsides, his tree-shaded chestnut-barked work cabin on a nearby hill, are places of pilgrimage for children, poets, wise men. "nature lovers?" said a visitor. "yes, and john burroughs lovers, too." "the whole gospel of my books," wrote the sage of slabsides, most distinguished of living american naturalists, "is 'stay at home; see the wonderful and the beautiful in the simple things all about you; make the most of the common and the near at hand.'" herein we have the keynote of the enduring charm that distinguishes all the burroughs books about bursting buds, birds, butterflies, leaves, and the seasons' graces. said walt whitman of a letter written to him by mr. burroughs, "it is a june letter, worthy of june; written in john's best out-door mood. i sit here, helpless as i am, and breathe it in like fresh air." [illustration: from a photograph by pirie macdonald new york ernest thompson seton courtesy of the woodcraft league] _american naturalists_ _ernest thompson seton_ six ernest thompson seton, nature illustrator and writer, was born in south shields, england, in the year . at five years of age his parents moved to canada and established a home in the backwoods. he was educated in the public schools and the collegiate institute of toronto, and later attended the royal academy in london. on the plains of manitoba, canada, he studied natural history, and became so efficient that he was appointed official naturalist to the government of manitoba. between the years and he published two books on the mammals and birds of the northern province. following a period of art study in paris, mr. seton became one of the illustrators of the century dictionary. besides illustrating many books about birds and animals and writing the text, he has contributed numerous articles to leading magazines, and has delivered more than three thousand lectures on natural history subjects. practically all of this author's books are contributions to natural history. his "life histories of northern animals" is a popular treatise on a scientific basis, of which theodore roosevelt said, "i regard your work as one of the most valuable contributions any naturalist has made to the life histories of american mammals." the writer made his first popular appeal in "wild animals i have known," which ran through ten editions in one year and has now an established place in animal literature. mr. seton is a man of many sides and sympathies. probably no one person has had a more profound influence on the boys of america than he, for he has taught the philosophy of out-door life and has been a pioneer in such work. someone has used the term, "nature apostle," to express the motive of his activity. he has made the things of the out-of-doors attractively real to the man in the street, as well as to the child. mr. seton likes the woods. he likes to make things, to teach and demonstrate woodcraft with groups of boys. he comes to town when he must, but he is happiest at "dewinton," near greenwich, connecticut, where he and his wife have developed an estate comprising buildings, gardens, woods, a lake and bridges of rare interest and charm. all is unique. mr. seton planned the buildings, wrote the specifications and superintended the building. much that seton has written has exploited the indian--the ideal indian--as the first american, presenting him in the most attractive fashion, and setting before the youth of the land the skill of the indian in handicrafts and woodcraftsmanship. he has not only popularized things that have to do with the open air in america: he was the first man anywhere to organize in practical manner a definite form of out-door activity for boys. this he did in when he founded the woodcraft indians. the principles of self-government with adult guidance, of competition against time and space, were first laid down by him in those days. later he became chief scout of the boy scouts of america. in he organized the woodcraft league of america, to carry out the general ideals of his early work: "something to know, something to do, something to enjoy in the woods and always with an eye to character." chief of the woodcraft league, he says, "woodcraft is lifecraft." this organization admits boys and girls, men and women, and aims to carry over into old age the real play spirit on the playgrounds of mother nature. as a boy he hungered for nature knowledge, but he had no books to guide him, and he declared that if ever he had the opportunity he would give to children what he did not have. in the preface of his "two little savages," he says, "because i have known the torment of thirst i would dig a well where others may drink." mr. seton works as hard in building some simple thing for a game for a boys' camp as in seeking facts about nature or planning a house. but above all he likes to personalize the animals, the birds, the trees, the winds and the seasons with his pen and in his talks about nature. and because he loves and understands them he makes them real to others, so that they love them too. some of the books that have carried his name wherever nature literature has readers are, besides those already mentioned: "the biography of a grizzly," "lobo, rag and vixen," "lives of the hunted," "drag and johnny bear," "animal heroes," "biography of a silver fox," "rolf in the woods," and "wild animals at home." the mentor · department of science serial number american naturalists by ernest ingersoll _author of "nature's calendar," "wild life of orchard and field," "wild neighbors," "art of the wild," "animal competitors," and other nature books._ [sidenote: _mentor gravures_ john j. audubon j. louis rodolphe agassiz henry david thoreau john muir john burroughs ernest thompson seton] [illustration] [illustration: photograph by press illustrating service, inc. john burroughs at the door of "slabsides" his study on the hill above his home at west park, new york] in the sense of its attractive description and interpretation, as distinguished from its coldly scientific study, the literature of natural history in the united states is a modern development. americans were intensely engaged in the earlier years of their history in practical affairs. a large proportion of them were pioneers who were too much occupied in subduing the wilderness and its harmful denizens to civilized purposes to be interested in its beauties. undoubtedly there were "nature lovers" even then. the poetry of james hillhouse ( - ), and the fact that he set out the trees that brought new haven fame as the "elm city," prove him to have been a nature lover; but the class of readers now known by that title is, like the phrase itself, of very recent growth. [endnote: entered as second-class matter march , , at the post office at new york, n.y., under the act of march , . copyright, , by the mentor association, inc.] _alexander wilson_ in philadelphia, under the inspiration of franklin, american science first put forth its budding twigs in the peace that followed the revolution. hither tramped the scottish weaver-poet, alexander wilson, who landed in new york from paisley in . after many vicissitudes, he became acquainted with william bartram, whose botanical garden was the pride of the town, and who himself had written a book of travel and observation which may perhaps be regarded as the earliest production in the field we are to cover in this article. through him and other local naturalists, such as dr. barton and the peales, wilson became fascinated with the study of birds. poor as he was, and untrained in drawing, he formed a resolution to prepare a work describing all birds of north america known to him, illustrated by colored plates executed by himself. "i am entranced," he wrote in to bartram, with quaint humor, "over the plumage of a lark, or gazing, like a despairing lover, on the lineaments of an owl." [illustration: photograph by courtesy of the american museum of natural history, new york portrait of john james audubon painted by his son, john woodhouse audubon, about ] there is hardly a greater marvel in literary history than the accomplishment of the task of publishing nine volumes of "the american ornithology" between and , the last one a year after wilson's death. as ornithology (the science of birds) it stands surprisingly well the test of criticism, and otherwise it bears the same classic relation to our literature that gilbert white's "selborne" does to that of england. wilson's style is clear and free from affectation of any sort, his diction simple and pure, illumined by that joy in his subject which was increased by every new discovery, and sweetened by poetic appreciation and genial humor. it is extremely fortunate that, at the beginning of our out-of-door literature, so excellent a model existed for young writers. every bird lover will enjoy reading wilson, and every would-be essayist ought to study his pages. [illustration: photograph by courtesy of the american museum of natural history, new york portrait of alexander wilson after a painting made by john watson gordon from an original picture of wilson owned by his sister] _john j. audubon_ while wilson was at work, chance brought john j. audubon, a lively young fellow of eighteen, to reside in a village near philadelphia. audubon, the son of a french father and a french creole mother of san domingo, was born at aux cayes (owe kei), in that island, april , . well educated in france, and in easy financial circumstances, he was fond of gunning and of painting portraits of the game he shot. though audubon and wilson met, the temperaments of the two were antagonistic, and no acquaintance followed. it was not until several years later that audubon's own ambitious "birds of america" began to see the light after a long period of wandering and misfortune, in which nothing but the faithful support of his talented wife saved the author from failure. [illustration: portrait bust of audubon by w.e. couper, in the american museum of natural history, new york] [illustration: home of audubon built in overlooking the hudson. from a lithograph made in ] [illustration: the audubon house as it appears to-day, below riverside drive, near th street, new york] audubon's monumental work, now brings, in the original edition with the folio-plates, $ , to $ , in the book market. it contains far more material and better plates than wilson's work, and differs from it strikingly in a literary way, for audubon's style is characteristically french in its liveliness, its interjection of personal incidents, and its imaginative exaggeration. audubon's fame as an author is based on the magnificent plates rather than on the text of his book, which is rarely quoted by modern ornithologists, most of whose writings are, however, far less entertaining. audubon, possessing pleasing social gifts and special opportunities, obtained a contemporary publicity such as wilson never enjoyed. [illustration: photograph by courtesy of the american museum of natural history, new york louis agassiz demonstrating his favorite subject, radiates (corals, jelly fishes, and star-fish tribe), before a class of pupils] _a group of early naturalists_ a third important treatise on our birds was that by thomas nuttall, a quaint character in charge of the harvard botanical garden, and an original author in botany. like his predecessors he gathered his facts by traveling extensively. his two volumes are of great value, and peculiarly interesting in the matter of birds' songs. a contemporary of nuttall's in philadelphia was dr. john godman ( - ), an eminent physician and anatomist, who found time to write a charming little book, "rambles of a naturalist," which was the earliest example of sketches of that kind issued in this country. he later prepared an illustrated "natural history." this was the first systematic account, with engravings, of all the american mammals then known, and it contains much enjoyable and instructive reading, with good pictures. [illustration: thomas nuttall] audubon, about , projected a more pretentious work on our mammals than godman's, the text of which was to be prepared by dr. john bachman of south carolina, while audubon and his son victor were to draw the pictures on copper. this plan resulted in the publication, in , of "quadrupeds of north america,"--to this day an important and interesting feature of our scientific libraries. [illustration: from "walden," by courtesy of houghton mifflin company view of walden pond from emerson's cliff] during a subsequent short period almost the only name to be mentioned is that of henry w. herbert, a highly cultivated man and the author of many novels and poems; but these are forgotten, while as "frank forester," the writer of "my shooting box," "field sports," and other manuals for young sportsmen, mr. herbert lives in the admiring memory of every reading man who enjoys tramping the autumn woods with gun and dog. his descriptions of field sports and rural scenes are so elegantly written, and are so instinct with the inspiration of the meadows and marshes where he loved to roam, that they have rarely been surpassed. [illustration: from "walden," by courtesy of houghton mifflin company walden pond the cabin site is indicated by the cairn of stones] theodore winthrop's "life in the open air," and other books, have a similar quality; nor must we forget n.p. willis, t.w. higginson, starr king, and particularly wilson flagg, whose "forest and field studies" came out in . flagg added later a delightful book, "birds and seasons in new england," and had the singular fortune to popularize for a familiar sparrow the name "vesper-bird" in place of its earlier and very commonplace name. [illustration: from "walden," by courtesy of houghton mifflin company thoreau's cabin at walden from a drawing by charles copeland] wilson flagg was one of that circle of writers and thinkers who have made new england, and particularly concord, so memorable. all of them felt strongly the influence of their rural surroundings. emerson exhibits it--may be said to have lived "close to nature" in the sublimest sense of the phrase; one realizes it more distinctly, perhaps, in his poems, but it is to be felt everywhere in his discourses. the same is true of channing, of hawthorne, lowell, and the other essayists and poets in that brilliant company. all loved things out of doors, and communicated to their readers the gracious inspirations they received. [illustration: from "walden," by courtesy of houghton mifflin company furniture used in the walden house, made by thoreau] _henry d. thoreau_ among these new englanders one stands preeminent to our view--henry d. thoreau, whom channing so happily called the poet-naturalist. in him the observation of nature took the foremost place as a life-pursuit; but it reflected more than the science of nature alone, though that was there, too, as it must be to make any out-door book of real and living interest. let some, if they choose, belittle "solid information," and extol "insight"; nevertheless the inner meaning, the imaginative perception of the value of a fact, cannot be expressed in any useful way unless the fact itself is truly and accurately stated and understood, and a reader who trusts altogether to a literary or artistic presentation of out-door life is likely to get some very distorted notions. [illustration: photograph by george r. king john muir and a pine tree friend] thoreau's books stand at the foundation of what we now call american out-door literature. it is probable that anybody who reads a single one will be eager to read the others, but this might not happen if he began, for instance, with the "week on the concord and merrimack rivers." with "walden" as an introduction to thoreau, you get the man really in place, for this is the story of his camp life on the shore of walden pond, and has the least of those eccentric meditations which elsewhere sometimes puzzle, if they do not bore, the ordinary reader. "excursions" is somewhat more discursive but equally delightful. "i wish to speak a word for nature, for absolute freedom and wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture merely civil," he declares; and these essays are memoranda of the author's wonderful walks--_wonder-full_ they were. "it was a pleasure and a privilege," wrote emerson, "to talk with him. he knew the country like a fox or bird, and passed through it freely by paths of his own." [illustration: copyright by underwood & underwood, n.y. john muir and john burroughs called "john o' mountains" and "john o' birds" by their friends] thoreau died in , having published only two books, the "week" ( ) and "walden" ( ). after his death there were printed no less than ten volumes prepared from his great accumulation of essays in manuscript, and notes and diaries. the four entitled "spring," "summer," "autumn," and "winter" are mines of treasure to the nature student. they consist of dated paragraphs from thoreau's voluminous journals, the selections being mainly notes on animals and plants seen about concord at all seasons of the year, with the queries and musings that occurred to him at the moment. they are books to be owned and referred to by the naturalist rather than to be read for entertainment. the literary magazines now began to print articles of open-air observation, most of which, then as now, dealt with bird life. this was not only because birds are singularly attractive, and the most easily studied of all animal groups, but largely because the united states has been very fortunate in the ornithologists that first made american birds known to the people. instead of beginning with mere classifiers of dull, unimaginative mind, we were truly blessed in having such pioneers in our ornithology as wilson and audubon--one a true poet, to whom birds were emblems of the graces, and the other a painter, whose descriptions are imbued with color and vivacity. [illustration: the house of john muir--in california] [illustration: the muir vineyards and orchards near martinez, california] _john burroughs_ of the new writers of the end of the last century, none has become more deservedly popular and beloved than john burroughs, who, on april third, , entered his eighty-third year. ever since "wake robin" was issued in , he has been giving us a succession of essays, at intervals crystalized into books, that have seemed like so many windows opening on ever-new vistas of a world whose delight had hardly been suspected by the general reader. they deal not only with wild beasts, birds and flowers, but with the homely facts of rural life; and they tell of experiences that make us long to take to the woods and the streams, to track the weasel through the winter snows, surprise the secrets of the birds and the bees, launch our boat upon river or lake, and drift or fish, and then rest through the long summer nights upon a couch of boughs beside a mountain fireplace. the very titles of burroughs' books are aromatic with the fragrance of woods and fields: "locusts and wild honey," "signs and seasons," "winter sunshine," "birds and poets." as he has advanced in years mr. burroughs has become more and more of a philosopher, discussing deep questions with copious information and illuminating thought. _popular nature writers of today_ to mention even a quarter of the nature books that have appeared during the past twenty-five years is impossible in this review. new england furnished many of note, such as the gracefully written and informative books of bradford torrey, largely reprinted from _the atlantic monthly_; the lively chapters on wild life near home by dallas lore sharp; and the useful volumes by e.h. forbush. from new york's presses were issued dozens of untechnical nature-books written by such well-known men as w.t. hornaday, frank chapman, f.s. matthews, w.p. eaton, ernest ingersoll, and the various authors of the "nature library." a special note must be made of the series from the pen of dr. c.c. abbott, who, like gilbert white and thoreau, found on his farm near trenton, new jersey, material for half a dozen or more books, including "rambles of a naturalist about home," "upland and meadow," and "wasteland wanderings." dr. henry mccook, a philadelphia clergyman, wrote in his "tenants of the old farm" a delightful story of the busy lives of ants and bees. all are models of the value of close and continuous observation of what is going on day by day under our eyes, and should be in every library. [illustration: copyright by underwood & underwood, n.y. theodore roosevelt in yosemite national park. yosemite falls in the background. in a career rich in endeavor and full of achievement, america's great citizen spent his first years and his last years as a naturalist] [illustration: dr. william t. hornaday director of the new york zoological park since , and author of many books and articles on natural history] one conspicuous reason for the rapid modern growth of the department of nature literature was the facility in illustration effected by the invention of the half-tone and three-color processes of reproducing photographs and paintings, accompanied by the steady improvement and cheapening of the camera in its application to field-study. these inventions enabled publishers to issue books with accurate and beautiful pictures at a price previously impossible, so that almost everyone might possess them. in a somewhat startling innovation in nature books appeared with the publication of ernest thompson seton's "wild animals i have known," soon followed by others in the same style, such as the "biography of a grizzly," "the sandhill stag," et cetera. mr. seton is a field naturalist of experience, and a portrayer of animal life of unique distinction. his books are embellished with remarkable drawings, but they are essentially romances that humanize their animal heroes. "because of his remarkably keen and quaint sense of humor and his power to draw and write," says an admirer, "no other animals are as real and lovable as his." [illustration: photograph by press illustrating service inc. luther burbank examining a flowering shrub under a microscope in his garden in santa rosa, california. he is called "unique in his knowledge of nature, and his manipulation and interpretation of her forces." the renowned dutch botanist, dr. hugo de vries, named burbank "the greatest breeder of plants the world has ever known." this most beneficent of naturalists, whose potato, stoneless plum, spineless cactus and ever-bearing strawberry have aided beyond all estimate california industry, was born in lancaster, massachusetts, march , ] [illustration: dan beard national scout commander of the boy scouts of america, and beloved by all sportsmen and naturalists] other clever writers have produced animal stories, of which the best are those by charles g.d. roberts, the canadian author. imitators appeared and obtained wide popularity until earnest protests from real naturalists and educators arose. some of these writers were pronounced "nature fakirs" and were discredited. mr. seton has produced in his two fine volumes, "northern mammals," the best treatise in existence on the natural history of our more northern four-footed beasts. he has also written a capital book on the scenery, people and zoology of northern canada, entitled "the arctic prairies"--a good example of the many highly interesting and instructive books of travel produced within the past few years by men who may be termed hunter-naturalists, such as the late theodore roosevelt, frank chapman, caspar whitney, dwight huntington, mr. and mrs. c.w. beebe, enos mills, william b. cabot, charles sheldon; and the authors of reports on various governmental exploratory expeditions in alaska and elsewhere, especially andrew j. stone, e. w. nelson, lieut. sugden, the preble brothers, wilfred osgood, vernon bailey, and several canadian travelers. _john muir and elliott coues_ [illustration: bradford torrey ornithologist and author; editor of thoreau's works] [illustration: dr. elliott coues an eminent naturalist distinguished for his researches in ornithology] one man among these explorers stands out above all others for his loving appreciation of nature in her wild state, combined with a remarkable power of delineation, and a gift of carrying to his readers not only the facts that engaged his attention, but a share of his delight in his experiences and of the inner meanings of them. this man is john muir, whose narratives of discovery in the western mountains are an immortal part of american literature. never will the present writer forget the inspiration of a day in the woods with john muir and john burroughs! different in fields of work, in literary style, and, to a great degree, diverse in habits of thought and views of life, they were at one, and beautifully supplementary in their reverential interpretation of nature. the widely awakened attention of americans to animals and plants inspired a desire to know them more in detail, and this brought out from specialists a great number of what may be classed as _guide-books_, descriptive of trees, wildflowers and animals of various kinds. the aids to bird study are especially notable, many of them, in addition to their value as reference books, containing much that is readable. none exceeds in this respect "the birds of the northwest," by dr. elliott coues ( - ), who, besides being the foremost scientific ornithologist of his time, was one of the most brilliant writers america has produced in the field of prose composition. his "key" is the text-book of american ornithology. [illustration: ernest ingersoll naturalist, editor and author] _women nature writers_ [illustration: olive thorne miller one of the first american women to write about nature] in this group of helpful books are to be found most of the productions of the women that have turned their literary talents toward out-door study. olive thorne miller's bird books were early in the field; florence merriam bailey has guided amateurs to the observation of birds "through an opera-glass," and has revealed to the east those of the west, as has mrs. wheelock of california. mrs. fanny eckstrom, mrs. mabel osgood wright, mrs. doubleday ("neltje blanchan"), and mrs. porter of "limberlost" fame are familiar names in this sphere of nature lore. to mrs. anna b. comstock we owe the best manual for teachers of nature study, and a good little book on insects; miss margaret morley has instructed us regarding wasps; miss soule tells us how to rear butterflies; mrs. dana leads us to the wildflowers,--and so on. _scholar naturalists_ [illustration: walter prichard eaton writer on nature subjects] [illustration: florence merriam bailey author of "birds through an opera glass," "handbook of birds of western united states," et cetera. mrs. bailey is the wife of vernon bailey, the well-known biologist and explorer] [illustration: mrs. mabel osgood wright author of "citizen bird" (with dr. coues), "gray lady and the birds," and similar books] i have said almost nothing about the investigators and teachers of natural science in the united states and canada. one ought to speak of those great botanists, john torrey and asa gray, the latter the earliest champion in the united states of the darwinian view of organic evolution. and there is louis agassiz (ag'-gah-see), who combined with the intellectual keenness of the investigator wonderful power of inspiration as a teacher. he it was that first aroused the educational leaders of the country to the need of scientific instruction for the masses. he gathered about him in cambridge a group of special students just after the close of the civil war, almost all of whom became famous for research and as publicists. his seaside school on penikese island, off the massachusetts coast, in , was the forerunner of all our summer-schools. spencer f. baird did much the same service at washington, founding that body of men who have made history at the smithsonian institution, the fisheries bureau, and other scientific agencies of the government prolific in research and in practical benefit to mankind. to these patient, hard-working men we owe not only precious additions to original knowledge, but learned instruction. most of them have been teachers in our colleges and high schools, leading writers in the best magazines, lecturers to whom we have listened with profit, and the authors of our school books and works of reference. without their unselfish labors in the search for facts, and the generous gift of their learning to the public, the pleasant matter of our nature books would rest on the same fanciful foundation as did the fables and wonder-tales of the middle ages. _supplementary reading_ audubon the naturalist, vols; _by francis hobart herrick_. louis agassiz, his life and correspondence; _by elizabeth carey agassiz_. a life of henry d. thoreau; _by f.b. sanborn_. our friend john burroughs; _by dr. clara barrus_. the story of my boyhood and youth; _by john muir_. john muir memorial number of the sierra club bulletin, vol. x. [**asterism] information concerning the above books may be had on application to the editor of the mentor. the open letter [illustration: henry d. thoreau] [illustration: courtesy of houghton mifflin & co. publishers of thoreau's works. thoreau's flute, spyglass, and his copy of wilson's "ornithology"] some folks living in and near concord way back in the ' 's used to say that thoreau was a thriftless individual who wasted his time in the woods out at walden pond and on the merrimac river--that he was of little use in the world and would not stick to any job. the world does not know who the folks were that said that, and the world doesn't care very much about them. but the world cares a great deal about thoreau, and wants to know all about him. * * * * * why? because he had a message for all of us that love nature; and, while he seemed to some of the folks of his time to be nothing but a shiftless dreamer and a shy recluse, he was looking over the things in nature with a very intelligent eye and he was writing down for our benefit a great deal of valuable information. and, more than that, he was a shrewd philosopher. he made clear to us that there were two ways of looking at things--one, ours, of looking at nature from the outside, and the other, his, of looking from the midst of nature outward at us. he set down in his notes a great many wise things that he had observed in us, viewing us from the standpoint of the wild woods, and speaking to us as an inspired denizen of the wilderness might do. thoreau appraised his busy, industrious fellow men shrewdly and intelligently--and he appreciated them in his way; but he did not see why he should find a job among them and go to work every day, and put his savings in the bank, and be a citizen in his town, and run for office, or serve in any way in civic affairs. for that lack in him he was sharply criticized by some people. well, it's too bad. i cannot find, however, that john muir, john burroughs, galen clark, or any of those wonderful old "sequoia men" have had the temper or the disposition to run for civic office or concern themselves about whether they were in the line of approved social advancement in any town or settlement. all they seemed to be concerned about was whether they were right with god and right with themselves, and were living the way that their health and reason dictated; whether they were finding the simple, fundamental truths of human life and nature, and reconciling them by holding close to the bosom of mother earth. the social problems of great cities did not interest them greatly. they knew mountains better than municipalities; they knew a country's trees and trails better than its treaties; they found their happiness in the solitude of the woods, their joy in the wilderness: their incense was the smell of the hemlock and pine and the odor of the smouldering campfire, not the scent of heated city hotels, theaters or music halls. * * * * * and while thoreau was pronounced long ago an idle dreamer, it now seems that his life was a very active and productive one, for lo! here are many books written by one, henry d. thoreau, that thousands nowadays read eagerly and with loving appreciation. and where are the enduring products of the thrifty and worthy souls that found thoreau wanting in his day? what have they done that interests the world now? only this--they scolded thoreau. by virtue of that they are immortalized. we don't remember their names or how many there were of them. they are simply recorded in history as having scolded thoreau. we have no more concern about them. we have thoreau. [illustration: w.d. moffat editor] thoreau at walden pond i love a broad margin to my life. sometimes in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, i sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveler's wagon on the distant highway, i was reminded of the lapse of time. i grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and those seasons were far better than any work of the hands would have been. they were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance. i realized what the orientals mean by contemplation and the forsaking of works. for the most part, i minded not how the hours went. the day advanced as if to light some work of mine; it was morning, and lo, now it is evening, and nothing memorable is accomplished. instead of singing like the birds, i silently smiled at my incessant good fortune. as the sparrow had its trill, sitting on the hickory before my door, so had i my chuckle or suppressed warble which he might hear out of my nest. my days were not days of the week, bearing the stamp of any heathen deity, nor were they minced into hours and fretted by the ticking of a clock; for i lived like the puri indians, of whom it is said that "for yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by pointing backward for yesterday, forward for to-morrow, and overhead for the passing day." this was sheer idleness to my fellow-townsmen, no doubt; but if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard, i should not have been found wanting. a man must find his occasions in himself. the mentor volumes that should have a place in every home one of the features of the mentor library is that it continues to grow from year to year. every twelve months a new volume is added, containing many hundreds of pages, giving an endless supply of instructive and wonderfully illustrated material that would be impossible to obtain elsewhere in such condensed form. the material is of a popular nature and of a kind that never becomes out of date. the concise, attractive form in which the many subjects are covered makes it of practical value to the business man and the active woman of affairs, as well as to children, who find it of the greatest help in their school work. it is a series that will not only be of use to them now but as long as they live. each bound volume of the mentor represents the substance of many books, and is profusely illustrated; more so, in fact, than any other work that covers the educational field. volumes six and seven contain serial numbers one hundred twenty-one to one hundred sixty-eight inclusive, are uniform in every way with the volumes previously published, and will complete your mentor library to date. to receive them, you need only send the coupon or a postcard without money. the volumes will be sent, all charges paid. you may remit $ . upon receipt of bill and $ . monthly for only four months--$ . in all; or a discount of % will be allowed if full payment is made within ten days from date of bill. we urge you to act at once. if you have volume six, simply notify us, and volume seven will be sent you, the amount, $ . , being added to your account. the mentor association send only this coupon the mentor association - east th st., new york. n.y. gentlemen:--please send me prepaid volumes six and seven of the mentor library. i will send you $ . upon receipt of bill and $ . each month for four months thereafter ($ . in all). a discount of % will be allowed if payment in full is made within ten days after receipt of bill. _name_................................................................. _address_............................................. _town_....................................... _state_.............. if you have volume six, change payments to read "$ . upon receipt of bill and $ . each month for two months ($ . in all)." make the spare moment count american men of letters henry d. thoreau [illustration: henry d. thoreau.] american men of letters. henry d. thoreau. by f. b. sanborn. _revised edition._ [illustration] boston and new york houghton mifflin company the riverside press, cambridge copyright, , by f. b. sanborn. _all rights reserved._ much do they wrong our henry wise and kind, morose who name thee, cynical to men, forsaking manners civil and refined to build thyself in walden woods a den,-- then flout society, flatter the rude hind. we better knew thee, loyal citizen! thou, friendship's all-adventuring pioneer, civility itself wouldst civilize: whilst braggart boors, wavering 'twixt rage and fear, slave hearths lay waste, and indian huts surprise, and swift the martyr's gibbet would uprear: thou hail'dst him great whose valorous emprise orion's blazing belt dimmed in the sky,-- then bowed thy unrepining head to die. a. bronson alcott concord, _january, _. preface when, in , i was asked by my friend charles dudley warner to write the biography of thoreau which follows, i was by no means unprepared. i had known this man of genius for the last seven years of his too short life; had lived in his family, and in the house of his neighbor across the way, ellery channing, his most intimate friend outside of that family; and had assisted channing in the preparation and publication of his "thoreau, the poet-naturalist,"--the first full biography which appeared. not very long after thoreau's death channing had written me these sentences, with that insight of the future which he often displayed: "that justice can be done to our deceased brother by me, of course i do not think. but to you and to me is intrusted the care of his immediate fame. i feel that my part is not yet done, and cannot be without your aid. my little sketch must only serve as a note and advertisement that such a man lived,--that he did brave work, which must yet be given to the world. in the midst of all the cold and selfish men who knew this brave and devoted scholar and genius, why should not you be called on to make some sacrifices, even if it be to publish my sketch?" this i was ready to do in ; and it was through my means that the volume, then much enlarged by channing, was published in , and again, with additions and corrections, in . i had also the great advantage of hearing from the mother and sister of henry the affectionate side of his domestic life,--which indeed i had witnessed, both in his health and in his long mortal illness. from emerson, who had a clear view of thoreau's intellect and his moral nature, i derived many useful suggestions, though not wholly agreeing with him in some of his opinions. in march, , after hearing emerson read a few unpublished notes on thoreau, made years before, i called on him one evening, and thus entered the event in my journal:-- "i was shown several of thoreau's early papers; one a commentary on emerson's 'sphinx,' and another from his own translation of 'the seven against thebes,' written at william emerson's house on staten island in . of this episode in thoreau's life (his tutorship for six months of william emerson's three sons), emerson told me that his brother and henry were not men that could get along together: 'each would think whatever the other did was out of place.' this was said to imply that thoreau's poem 'the departure' could not have been written on his leaving castleton in staten island. i had shown emerson these verses (first printed by me, at sophia thoreau's wish, in the boston 'commonwealth' of ), whereupon he said:-- "i think thoreau had always looked forward to authorship as his work in life, and finding that he could write prose well, he soon gave up writing verse, in which he was not willing to be patient enough to make the lines smooth and flowing. these verses are smoother than he usually wrote; but i have now no recollection of seeing them before, nor of any circumstances in which they may have been written.' alluding to judge hoar's marked dislike of thoreau, emerson said, 'there was no _bow_ in henry; he never sought to please his hearers or his friends.' thomas cholmondeley, the nephew of scott's friend richard heber, meeting henry at dinner at emerson's, to whom cholmondeley had letters in , and expressing to his host the wish to see more of him, emerson said he told the englishman, 'if you wish to see thoreau, go and board at his mother's house; she will be glad to take you in, and there you can meet him every day. he did so,' added emerson, 'and you know the result.' ... this led to further mention of mrs. thoreau, who, emerson said, 'was a person of sharp and malicious wit,' of whose sayings he read me some instances from his journals. among these was her remark to mrs. emerson, 'henry is very _tolerant_'; adding 'mr. emerson has been talking so much with henry that he has learnt henry's way of thinking and talking.' emerson went on to me:-- "'i had known henry slightly when in college; the scholarship from which he drew an income while there (a farm at pullen point in chelsea) was the one that i and my brothers, william and edward, had enjoyed while we were at college. but my first intimate acquaintance with henry began after his graduation in . mrs. brown, my wife's sister, who then boarded with the thoreau family in the parkman house, where the library now stands, used to bring me his verses (the "sic vita" and others), and tell me of his entries in his journal. here is the index to my journals, in which thoreau's name appears perhaps fifty times, perhaps more.'" thus far my journal of . i was myself introduced to thoreau by emerson, march , , in the concord town hall, one evening, just before a lecture there by emerson. from that time until henry's death, may , , i saw him every few days, unless he or i was away from concord, and for more than two years i dined with him daily at his mother's table, in the house opposite to ellery channing's. i thus came to know all the surviving members of his kindred,--his eccentric uncle, charles dunbar, his two aunts on each side, jane and maria thoreau, and louisa and sophia dunbar (both older than mrs. thoreau), and the descendants in maine of his aunt mrs. billings, long since dead. his sister helen and his brother john i never knew, but learned much about them from their mother and sister; for neither henry nor his father often spoke of them. sophia also placed in my hands after henry's death several of his poems, which i printed in the "commonwealth," and emerson gave me other manuscripts of thoreau which had lodged with him while he was editing the "dial." he had urged sophia to leave all the mss. with me, but her pique against channing at the time prevented this,--she knowing him to be intimate with me. with all this preparation, i received from mr. blake, to whom sophia had bequeathed them in , the correspondence of thoreau and his college essays, with some other papers of henry's and his own, but without the replies from the family to henry's affectionate letters. even his own to his mother and sisters had been withheld from publication by emerson in , when a small collection of thoreau's letters and poems was edited by emerson. this omission sophia regretted, as she told me; and finding them now in my hands, though i made use of their contents in writing the biography, i withheld them from full publication, foreseeing that i should probably have occasion to edit the letters in full at some later time; and i made but sparing use of the early essays. on the other hand, i perceived that the character and genius of thoreau could not be well understood unless some knowledge was had of the concord farmers, scholars, and citizens, among whom he had spent his days, and who have furnished a background for that scene of authorship which the small town of concord has presented for now more than seventy years. therefore, having access to the records and biographies of the concord "social circle," then in preparation for the public, and to many other records of the past in new england, i sketched therefrom the character of our interesting community, which gave color and tone to the outlines of this thoughtful scholar's career. but i held back for the "familiar letters" the more intimate details of thoreau's self-devoted life, and did not draw heavily on the thirty-odd volumes of the journals, to which, at worcester, mr. blake gave me free access. it was then his purpose to bring out these journals much earlier and more fully than was done, until messrs. houghton, mifflin & co. published their admirable edition in fourteen volumes, a few years ago, after mr. blake's death. the success of my biography, written under these limitations, has more than justified reasonable expectations. it was popular from the first, and is still widely read, and called for by a generation of readers quite distinct from those for whom it was originally written. since the spring of , when it was published, many details of thoreau's life and that of his ancestors have become known by an examination of his copious manuscripts, of the papers of his loyalist ancestors, and his father's relatives in the island of jersey; and by the publication of some twenty-five volumes from thoreau's own hand. he never employed an amanuensis, and he seems to have carefully preserved the large mass of his manuscripts which accumulated during his literary life of some twenty-five years. the exceptions to this remark were the copies of his earlier verses, which he told me, in his last illness, he had destroyed, because they did not meet emerson's approval, and those pages of his journals which he had issued in printed books or magazine articles. fragments of his youthful verses were kept, however, by some of his family, and still exist. from all these sources many things have come to light concerning his ancestry and the minor events of his life, which i hope eventually to give the world in a final biography that will serve as a sequel to this one. the greatly enhanced reputation which thoreau now enjoys, as compared with his fame in , seems to warrant a detail which was not then needful, and which even the "familiar letters" does not furnish. much misconception of his character and the facts of his life still prevails; and singular statements have been made in text-books, as to his origin and training. one authority described thoreau as descended from "farmer folk" in connecticut, who were recent immigrants from france. so far as i know, not a single ancestor of his ever dwelt in connecticut; they were all merchants; and though his thoreau ancestors spoke french, or a patois of it, in jersey, there is no evidence that any of them had lived in france for more than five centuries. this initial authentic biography, with its few errors corrected, now comes forth in a new edition, which will long be found useful, in the manner indicated, and i hope, may be received as the earlier edition has been, with all the favor which its modest aim deserves. f. b. s. concord, mass., october , . contents. chapter i. page birth and family chapter ii. childhood and youth chapter iii. concord and its famous people chapter iv. the embattled farmers chapter v. the transcendental period chapter vi. early essays in authorship chapter vii. friends and companions chapter viii. the walden hermitage chapter ix. horace in the role of mæcenas chapter x. in wood and field chapter xi. personal traits and social life chapter xii. poet, moralist, and philosopher chapter xiii. life, death, and immortality henry d. thoreau. chapter i. birth and family. there died in a city of maine, on the river penobscot, late in the year , the last member of a family which had been planted in new england a little more than a hundred years before, by a young tradesman from the english island of jersey, and had here produced one of the most characteristic american and new english men of genius whom the world has yet seen. this lady, miss maria thoreau, was the last child of john thoreau, the son of philip thoreau and his wife, marie le galais, who, a hundred years ago, lived in the parish of st. helier, in jersey. this john thoreau was born in that parish, and baptized there in the anglican church, in april, ; he emigrated to new england about , and in married in boston miss jane burns, the daughter of a scotchman of some estate in the neighborhood of stirling castle, who had emigrated earlier to massachusetts, and had here married sarah orrok, the daughter of david orrok, a massachusetts quaker. jane (burns) thoreau, the granddaughter of david orrok, and the grandmother of henry david thoreau, died in boston, in , at the age of forty-two. her husband, john thoreau, sr., removed from boston to concord, in , lived in a house on the village square, and died there in . his mother, marie le galais, outlived him a few weeks, dying at st. helier, in . maria thoreau, granddaughter and namesake of marie le galais, died in december, , in bangor, maine. from the recollections of this "aunt maria," who outlived all her american relatives by the name of thoreau, henry thoreau derived what information he possessed concerning his jersey ancestors. in his journal for april , , he makes this entry:-- "aunt maria has put into my hands to-day for safe-keeping three letters from peter thoreau (her uncle), directed to 'miss elizabeth thoreau, concord, near boston,' and dated at jersey, respectively, july , , april , , and april , ; also a '_vue de la ville de st. helier_,' accompanying the first letter. the first is in answer to one from my aunt elizabeth, announcing the death of her father (my grandfather). he states that his mother (marie (le galais) thoreau) died june , , the day before he received aunt elizabeth's letter, though not till after he had heard from another source of the death of his brother, which was not communicated to his mother. 'she was in the seventy-ninth year of her age,' he says, 'and retained her memory to the last. she lived with my two sisters, who took the greatest care of her.' he says that he had written to my grandfather about his oldest brother (who died about a year before), but had got no answer,--had written that he left his children, two sons and a daughter, in a good way: 'the eldest son and daughter are both married and have children; the youngest is about eighteen. i am still a widower. of four children i have but two left,--betsey and peter; james and nancy are both at rest.' he adds that he sends 'a view of our native town.' "the second of these letters is sent by the hand of captain john harvey, of boston, then at guernsey. on the th of february, , he had sent aunt elizabeth a copy of the last letter he had written (which was in answer to her second), since he feared she had not received it. he says that they are still at war with the french; that they received the day before a letter from her 'uncle and aunt le cappelain of london;' complains of not receiving letters, and says, 'your aunts, betsey and peter join with me,' etc. according to the third letter (april , ), he had received by capt. touzel an answer to that he sent by capt. harvey, and will forward this by the former, who is going _via_ newfoundland to boston. 'he expects to go there every year; several vessels from jersey go there every year.' his nephew had told him, some time before, that he met a gentleman from boston, who told him he saw the sign 'thoreau and hayse' there, and he therefore thinks the children must have kept up the name of the firm. 'your cousin john is a lieutenant in the british service; he has already been in a campaign on the continent; he is very fond of it.' aunt maria thinks the correspondence ceased at peter's death, because he was the one who wrote english." these memoranda indicate that the grandfather of henry thoreau was the younger son of a family of some substance in jersey, which had a branch in london and a grandson in the army that fought under wellington against napoleon; that the american thoreau engaged in trade in boston, with a partner, and carried on business successfully for years; and that there was the same pleasant family feeling in the english and french thoreaus that we shall see in their american descendants. miss maria thoreau, in answer to a letter of mine, some years ago, sent me the following particulars of her ancestry, some of which repeat what is above stated by her nephew:-- "bangor, _march , _. "mr. sanborn. "_dear sir_,--in answer to your letter, i regret that i cannot find more to communicate. i have no earlier record of my grandparents, philippe thoreau and marie le gallais, than a certificate of their baptism in st. helier, jersey, written on parchment in the year . i do not know what their vocation was. my father was born in st. helier in april, , and was married to jane burns in boston, in . she died in that city in the year , aged forty-two years. my sister elizabeth continued my father's correspondence with his brother, uncle peter thoreau, at st. helier, for a number of years after father's decease, and in one of his letters he speaks of the death of grandmother, marie le gallais, as taken place so near the time intelligence reach'd them of father's death, in , it was not communicated to her. father removed to concord in , and died there, of consumption. i do not know at what time he emigrated to this country, but have been told he was shipwreck'd on the passage, and suffered much. i think he must have left a large family circle, as uncle peter in his letters refers to aunts and cousins, two of which, aunts le cappelain and pinkney, resided in london, and a cousin, john thoreau, was an officer in the british army. "soon after father's arrival in boston, probably, he open'd a store on long wharf, as documents addressed to 'john thoreau, merchant,' appear to signify, and one subsequently purchased 'on king street, afterward called state street.' and now i will remark in passing that henry's father was bred to the mercantile line, and continued in it till failure in business; when he resorted to pencil-making, and succeeded so well as to obtain the first medal at the salem mechanics' fair. i think henry could hardly compete with his father in pencil-making, any more than he, with his peculiar genius and habits, would have been willing to spend much time in such 'craft.' his father left no will, but a competency, at least, to his family, and what was done relative to the business after his death was accomplished by his daughter sophia. i mention this to rectify mr. page's mistake relating to henry. "and now, as i have written all i can glean of father's family, i will turn to the maternal side, of which it appears, in religious belief, they were of the quaker persuasion. but i was sorry to see, by good old great-great-grandfather tillet's will, that slavery was tolerated in those days in the good state of massachusetts, and handed down from generation to generation. my great-grandmother (tillet) married david orrok; her daughter, sarah orrok, married mr. burns, a scotch gentleman. at what time he came to this country, or married, i cannot ascertain, but have often been told, to gain the consent to it of grandmother's quaker parents, he was obliged to doff his rich apparel of gems and ruffles, and conform to the more simple garb of his quaker bride. on a visit to his home in scotland he died, in what year is not mentioned. before my father's decease, a letter was received from the executor of grandfather's estate, dated stirling, informing him there was property left to jane burns, his daughter in america, 'well worth coming after.' but father was too much out of health to attend to the getting it; and the letter, subsequently put into a lawyer's hands by brother, then the only heir, was lost. "it has been said i inherit more of the traits of my foreign ancestry than any of my family,--which pleases me. probably the vivacity of the french and the superstition of the scotch may somewhat characterize me,--which it is to be hop'd the experience of an octogenarian may suitably modify. but this is nothing, here nor there. and now that i have written all that is necessary, and perhaps more, i will close, with kind wishes for health and happiness. yours respectfully, "maria thoreau." it would be hard to compress more family history into a short letter, and yet leave it so sprightly in style as this. of the four children of maria thoreau's brother john and cynthia dunbar,--john, helen, henry, and sophia,--the two eldest, john and helen, were said to be "clear thoreau," and the others, henry and sophia, "clear dunbar;" though in fact the thoreau traits were marked in henry also. let us see, then, who and what were the family of henry thoreau's mother, cynthia dunbar, who was born in keene, n. h., in . she was the daughter of rev. asa dunbar, who was born at bridgewater, mass., in ; graduated at harvard college in (a classmate of sir thomas bernard and increase sumner); preached for a while at bedford, near concord, in , when he was "a young candidate, newly begun to preach;" settled in salem in ; resigned his pastorate in ; and removed to keene just at the close of the revolution, where he became a lawyer, and died, a little upwards of forty-two, in . he married before , miss mary jones, the daughter of col. elisha jones, of weston, a man of wealth and influence in his town, who died in . mrs. mary (jones) dunbar long outlived the husband of her youth; in middle life she married a concord farmer, jonas minott, whom she also outlived; and it was in his house that her famous grandson was born in july, . mrs. minott was left a widow for the second time in , when she was sixty-five years old, and in she sent a petition to the grand lodge of masons in massachusetts, which was drawn up and indorsed by her pastor, dr. ripley, of concord, and which contains a short sketch of henry thoreau's maternal grandfather, from whom he is said to have inherited many qualities. mrs. minott's petition sets forth "that her first husband, asa dunbar, esq., late of keene, n. h., was a native of massachusetts; that he was for a number of years settled in the gospel ministry at salem; that afterwards he was a counselor-at-law; that he was master of a lodge of free and accepted masons at keene, where he died; that in the cause of masonry he was interested and active; that through some defection or misfortune of that lodge _she_ has suffered loss, both on account of what was due to him and to her, at whose house they held their meetings; that in the settlement of the estate of her late husband, jonas minott, esq., late of concord, she has been peculiarly unfortunate, and become very much straitened in the means of living comfortably; that being thus reduced, and feeling the weight of cares, of years, and of widowhood to be very heavy, after having seen better days, she is induced, by the advice of friends, as well as her own exigencies, to apply for aid to the benevolence and charity of the masonic fraternity." at the house of this decayed gentlewoman, about two years after the date of this petition, henry thoreau was born. she lived to see him running about, a sprightly boy, and he remembered her with affection. one of his earliest recollections of concord was of driving in a chaise with his grandmother along the shore of walden pond, perhaps on the way to visit her relatives in weston, and thinking, as he said afterward, that he should like to live there. ellery channing, whose life of his friend henry is a mine of curious information on a thousand topics, relevant and irrelevant, and who often traversed the "old virginia road" with thoreau before the house in which he was born was removed from its green knoll to a spot further east, where it now stands, thus pictures the brown farm-house and its surroundings: "it was a perfect piece of our old new england style of building, with its gray, unpainted boards, its grassy, unfenced door-yard. the house is somewhat isolate and remote from thoroughfares; on the virginia road, an old-fashioned, winding, at length deserted pathway, the more smiling for its forked orchards, tumbling walls, and mossy banks. about it are pleasant sunny meadows, deep with their beds of peat, so cheering with its homely, hearth-like fragrance; and in front runs a constant stream through the centre of that great tract sometimes called 'bedford levels,'--the brook a source of the shawsheen river." (this is a branch of the merrimac, as concord river is, but flows into the main stream through andover, and not through billerica and lowell, as the concord does.) the road on which it stands, a mile and a half east of the fitchburg railroad station, and perhaps a mile from thoreau's grave in the village cemetery, is a by-path from concord to lexington, through the little town of bedford. the farm-house, with its fields and orchard, was a part of mrs. minott's "widow's thirds," on which she was living at the date of her grandson's birth (july , ), and which her son-in-law, john thoreau, was "carrying on" for her that year. mrs. minott, a few years before dr. ripley's petition in her behalf, came near having a more distinguished son-in-law, daniel webster, who, like the young dunbars, was new hampshire born, and a year or two older than mrs. minott's daughter, louisa dunbar. he had passed through dartmouth college a little in love with two or three of the young ladies of hanover, and had returned to his native town of salisbury, n. h., when he met in boscawen, near by, miss louisa, who, like miss grace fletcher, whom he married a few years afterward, was teaching school in one of the new hampshire towns. miss dunbar made an impression on webster's heart, always susceptible, and, had the fates been propitious, he might have called henry thoreau nephew in after years; but the silken tie was broken before it was fairly knit. i suspect that she was the person referred to by one of webster's biographers, who says, speaking of an incident that occurred in january, : "mr. webster, at that time, had no thought of marrying; he had not even met the lady who afterward became his wife. he had been somewhat interested in another lady, who is occasionally referred to in his letters, written after he left college, but who was not either of those whom he had known at hanover. but this affair never proceeded very far, and he had entirely dismissed it from his mind before he went to boston in ." in january, , about the time of his father's death, webster wrote to a college friend, "i am not married, and seriously am inclined to think i never shall be," though he was then a humble suitor to grace fletcher. louisa dunbar was a lively, dark-haired, large-eyed, pleasing young lady, who had perhaps been educated in part at boscawen, where webster studied for college, and afterwards was a school-teacher there. she received from him those attentions which young men give to young ladies without any very active thoughts of marriage; but he at one time paid special attentions to her, which might have led to matrimony, perhaps, if webster had not soon after fallen under the sway of a more fascinating school-teacher, miss grace fletcher, of hopkinton, n. h., whom he first saw at the door of her little school-house in salisbury, not far from his own birthplace. a concord matron, a neighbor and friend of the dunbars and thoreaus, heard the romantic story from webster's own lips forty years afterward, as she was driving with him through the valley of the assabet: how he was traveling along a new hampshire road in , stopped at a school-house to ask a question or leave a message, and was met at the door by that vision of beauty and sweetness, grace fletcher herself, to whom he yielded his heart at once. from a letter of webster's to this concord friend (mrs. louisa cheney) i quote this description of his native region, which has never been printed:-- "franklin, n. h., _september , ' _. "dear mrs. cheney,--you are hardly expecting to hear from me in this remote region of the earth. where i am was originally a part of salisbury, the place of my birth; and, having continued to own my father's farm, i sometimes make a visit to this region. the house is on the west bank of merrimac river, fifteen miles above concord (n. h.), in a pleasant valley, made rather large by a turn in the stream, and surrounded by high and wooded hills. i came here five or six days ago, alone, to try the effect of the mountain air upon my health. "this is a very picturesque country. the hills are high, numerous, and irregular,--some with wooded summits, and some with rocky heads as white as snow. i went into a pasture of mine last week, lying high up on one of the hills, and had there a clear view of the white mountains in the northeast, and of ascutney, in vermont, back of windsor, in the west; while within these extreme points was a visible scene of mountains and dales, lakes and streams, farms and forests. i really think this region is the true switzerland of the united states. "i am attracted to this particular spot by very strong feelings. it is the scene of my early years; and it is thought, and i believe truly, that these scenes come back upon us with renewed interest and more strength of feeling as we find years running over us. white stones, visible from the window, and close by, mark the grave of my father, my mother, one brother, and three sisters. here are the same fields, the same hills, the same beautiful river, as in the days of my childhood. the human beings which knew them now know them no more. few are left with whom i shared either toil or amusement in the days of youth. but this is melancholy and personal, and enough of it. one mind cannot enter fully into the feelings of another in regard to the past, whether those feelings be joyous or melancholy, or, which is more commonly the case, partly both. i am, dear mrs. cheney, yours truly, "daniel webster." no doubt the old statesman was thinking, as he wrote, not only of his father, captain ebenezer webster ("with a complexion," said stark, under whom he fought at bennington, "that burnt gunpowder could not change"), of his mother and his brethren, but also of grace fletcher,--and echoing in his heart the verse of wordsworth:-- "among thy mountains did i feel the joy of my desire; and she i cherished turned her wheel beside a cottage fire. thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed, the bowers where lucy played; and thine, too, is the last green field that lucy's eyes surveyed." it was no such deep sentiment as this which louisa dunbar had inspired in young webster's breast; but he walked and talked with her, took her to drive in his chaise up and down the new hampshire hills, and no doubt went with her to church and to prayer-meeting. she once surprised me by confiding to me (as we were talking about webster in the room where henry thoreau afterwards died, and where there hung then an engraving by rowse of webster's magnificent head) "that she regarded mr. webster, under providence, as the means of her conversion." upon my asking how, she said that, in one of their drives,--perhaps in the spring of ,--he had spoken to her so seriously and scripturally on the subject of religion that her conscience was awakened, and she soon after joined the church, of which she continued through life a devout member. her friendship for mr. webster also continued, and in his visits to concord, which were frequent from to , he generally called on her, or she was invited to meet him at the house of mr. cheney, where, among social and political topics, webster talked with her of the old days at boscawen and salisbury. cynthia dunbar, the mother of henry thoreau, was born in keene, n. h., in , the year that her father died. her husband, john thoreau, who was a few months younger than herself, was born in boston. when henry thoreau first visited keene, in , he made this remark: "keene street strikes the traveler favorably; it is so wide, level, straight, and long. i have heard one of my relatives who was born and bred there [louisa dunbar, no doubt] say that you could see a chicken run across it a mile off." his mother hardly lived there long enough to notice the chickens a mile off, but she occasionally visited her native town after her marriage in , and a kinswoman (mrs. laura dunbar ralston, of washington, d. c.), now living, says, "i recollect mrs. thoreau as a handsome, high-spirited woman, half a head taller than her husband, accomplished, after the manner of those days, with a voice of remarkable power and sweetness in singing." she was fond of dress, and had a weakness, not uncommon in her day, for ribbons, which her austere friend, miss mary emerson (aunt of r. w. emerson), once endeavored to rebuke in a manner of her own. in , when mrs. thoreau was seventy years old, and miss emerson eighty-four, the younger lady called on the elder in concord, wearing bonnet-ribbons of a good length and of a bright color,--perhaps yellow. during the call, in which henry thoreau was the subject of conversation, miss emerson kept her eyes shut. as mrs. thoreau and her daughter sophia rose to go, the little old lady said, "perhaps you noticed, mrs. thoreau, that i closed my eyes during your call. i did so because i did not wish to look on the ribbons you are wearing, so unsuitable for a child of god and a person of your years." in uttering this reproof, miss emerson may have had in mind the clerical father of mrs. thoreau, rev. asa dunbar, whom she was old enough to remember. he was settled in salem as the colleague of rev. thomas barnard, after a long contest which led to the separation of the first church there, and the formation of the salem north church in . the parishioners of mr. dunbar declared their new minister "admirably qualified for a gospel preacher," and he seems to have proved himself a learned and competent minister. but his health was infirm, and this fact, as one authority says, "soon threw him into the profession of the law, which he honorably pursued for a few years at keene." whether he went at once to keene on leaving salem in does not appear, but he was practicing law there in , and was also a leading freemason. his diary for a few years of his early life--a faint foreshadowing of his grandson's copious journals--is still in existence, and indicates a gay and genial disposition, such as mrs. thoreau had. his only son, charles dunbar, who was born in february, , and died in march, , inherited this gaiety of heart, but also that lack of reverence and discipline which is proverbial in new england for "ministers' sons and deacons' daughters." his nephew said of him, "he was born the winter of the great snow, and he died in the winter of another great snow,--a life bounded by great snows." at the time of henry thoreau's birth, mrs. thoreau's sisters, louisa and sarah, and their brother charles were living in concord, or not far off, and there louisa dunbar died a few years before mrs. thoreau. her brother charles, who was two years older than daniel webster, was a person widely known in new hampshire and massachusetts, and much celebrated by thoreau in his journals. at the time of his death, i find the following curious entries, in thoreau's journal for april , :-- "people are talking about my uncle charles. george minott [a sort of cousin of the thoreaus] tells how he heard tilly brown once asking him to show him a peculiar inside lock in wrestling. 'now, don't hurt me,--don't throw me hard.' he struck his antagonist inside his knees with his feet, and so deprived him of his legs. edmund hosmer remembers his tricks in the bar-room, shuffling cards, etc.; he could do anything with cards, yet he did not gamble. he would toss up his hat, twirling it over and over, and catch it on his head invariably. he once wanted to live at hosmer's, but the latter was afraid of him. 'can't we study up something?' he asked. hosmer asked him into the house, and brought out apples and cider, and uncle charles talked. 'you!' said he, 'i burst the bully of haverhill.' he wanted to wrestle,--would not be put off. 'well, we won't wrestle in the house.' so they went out to the yard, and a crowd got round. 'come, spread some straw here,' said uncle charles,--'i don't want to hurt him.' he threw him at once. they tried again; he told them to spread more straw, and he 'burst' him. uncle charles used to say that he hadn't a single tooth in his head. the fact was they were all double, and i have heard that he lost about all of them by the time he was twenty-one. ever since i knew him he could swallow his nose. he had a strong head, and never got drunk; would drink gin sometimes, but not to excess. did not use tobacco, except snuff out of another's box, sometimes; was very neat in his person; was not profane, though vulgar." this was the uncle who, as thoreau said in "walden," "goes to sleep shaving himself, and is obliged to sprout potatoes in a cellar sundays in order to keep awake and keep the sabbath." he was a humorous, ne'er-do-weel character, who, with a little property, no family, and no special regard for his reputation, used to move about from place to place, a privileged jester, athlete, and unprofessional juggler. one of his tricks was to swallow all the knives and forks and some of the plates at the tavern table, and then offer to restore them if the landlord would forgive him the bill. i remember this worthy in his old age, an amusing guest at his brother-in-law's table, where his nephew plied him with questions. we shall find him mentioned again, in connection with daniel webster's friendship for the dunbar family. thoreau's mother had this same incessant and rather malicious liveliness that in charles dunbar took the grotesque form above hinted at. she was a kindly, shrewd woman, with traditions of gentility and sentiments of generosity, but with sharp and sudden flashes of gossip and malice, which never quite amounted to ill-nature, but greatly provoked the prim and commonplace respectability that she so often came in contact with. along with this humorous quality there went also an affectionate earnestness in her relation with those who depended on her, that could not fail to be respected by all who knew the hard conditions that new england life, even in a favored village like concord, then imposed on the mother of a family, where the outward circumstances were not in keeping with the inward aspiration. "who sings the praise of woman in our clime? i do not boast her beauty or her grace: some humble duties render her sublime, she, the sweet nurse of this new england race, the flower upon the country's sterile face; the mother of new england's sons, the pride of every house where those good sons abide." her husband was a grave and silent, but inwardly cheerful and social person, who found no difficulty in giving his wife the lead in all affairs. the small estate he inherited from his father, the first john thoreau, was lost in trade, or by some youthful indiscretions, of which he had his quiet share; and he then, about , turned his attention to pencil-making, which had by that time become a lucrative business in concord. he had married in , and he died in . he was a small, deaf, and unobtrusive man, plainly clad, and "minding his own business;" very much in contrast with his wife, who was one of the most unceasing talkers ever seen in concord. her gift in speech was proverbial, and wherever she was the conversation fell largely to her share. she fully verified the oriental legend, which accounts for the greater loquacity of women by the fact that nine baskets of talk were let down from heaven to adam and eve in their garden, and that eve glided forward first and secured six of them. old dr. ripley, a few years before his death, wrote a letter to his son, towards the end of which he said, with courteous reticence, "i meant to have filled a page with sentiments. but _a kind neighbor_, mrs. thoreau, has been here more than an hour. this letter must go in the mail to-day." her conversation generally put a stop to other occupations; and when at her table henry thoreau's grave talk with others was interrupted by this flow of speech at the other end of the board, he would pause, and wait with entire and courteous silence, until the interruption ceased, and then take up the thread of his own discourse where he had dropped it; bowing to his mother, but without a word of comment on what she had said. dr. ripley was the minister of concord for half a century, and in his copious manuscripts, still preserved, are records concerning his parishioners of every conceivable kind. he carefully kept even the smallest scrap that he ever wrote, and among his papers i once found a fragment, on one side of which was written a pious meditation, and on the other a certificate to this effect: "understanding that mr. john thoreau, now of chelmsford, is going into business in that place, and is about to apply for license to retail ardent spirits, i hereby certify that i have been long acquainted with him, that he has sustained a good character, and now view him as a man of integrity, accustomed to store-keeping, and of correct morals." there is no date, but the time was about . chelmsford is a town ten miles north of concord, to which john thoreau had removed for three years, in the infancy of henry. from chelmsford he went to boston in , but was successful in neither place, and soon returned to concord, where he gave up trade and engaged in pencil-making, as already mentioned. from that time, about , till his death in , john thoreau led a plodding, unambitious, and respectable life in concord village, educating his children, associating with his neighbors on those terms of equality for which concord is famous, and keeping clear, in a great degree, of the quarrels, social and political, that agitated the village. mrs. thoreau, on the other hand, with her sister louisa and her sisters-in-law, sarah, maria, and jane thoreau, took their share in the village bickerings. in , when dr. lyman beecher, then of boston, dr. john todd, then of groton, and other calvinistic divines succeeded in making a schism in dr. ripley's parish, and drawing off trinitarians enough to found a separate church, the thoreaus generally seceded, along with good old deacon white, whose loss dr. ripley bewailed. this contention was sharply maintained for years, and was followed by the antimasonic and antislavery agitation. in the latter mrs. thoreau and her family engaged zealously, and their house remained for years headquarters for the early abolitionists and a place of refuge for fugitive slaves. the atmosphere of earnest purpose, which pervaded the great movement for the emancipation of the slaves, gave to the thoreau family an elevation of character which was ever afterward perceptible, and imparted an air of dignity to the trivial details of life. by this time, too,--i speak of the years from onward till the outbreak of the civil war,--the children of mrs. thoreau had reached an age and an education which made them noteworthy persons. helen, the oldest child, born in , was an accomplished teacher. john, the elder son, born in was one of those lovely and sunny natures which infuse affection in all who come within their range; and henry, with his peculiar strength and independence of soul, was a marked personage among the few who would give themselves the trouble to understand him. sophia, the youngest child, born in , had, along with her mother's lively and dramatic turn, a touch of art; and all of them, whatever their accidental position for the time, were superior persons. living in a town where the ancient forms survived in daily collision or in friendly contact with the new ideas that began to make headway in new england about , the thoreaus had peculiar opportunities, above their apparent fortunes, but not beyond their easy reach of capacity, for meeting on equal terms the advancing spirit of the period. the children of the house, as they grew up, all became school-teachers, and each displayed peculiar gifts in that profession. but they were all something more than teachers, and becoming enlisted early in the antislavery cause, or in that broader service of humanity which "plain living and high thinking" imply, they gradually withdrew from that occupation,--declining the opportunities by which other young persons, situated as they then were, rise to worldly success, and devoting themselves, within limits somewhat narrow, to the pursuit of lofty ideals. the household of which they were loving and thoughtful members (let one be permitted to say who was for a time domesticated there) had, like the best families everywhere, a distinct and individual existence, in which each person counted for something, and was not a mere drop in the broad water-level that american society tends more and more to become. to meet one of the thoreaus was not the same as to encounter any other person who might happen to cross your path. life to them was something more than a parade of pretensions, a conflict of ambitions, or an incessant scramble for the common objects of desire. they were fond of climbing to the hill-top, and could look with a broader and kindlier vision than most of us on the commotions of the plain and the mists of the valley. without wealth, or power, or social prominence, they still held a rank of their own, in scrupulous independence, and with qualities that put condescension out of the question. they could have applied to themselves, individually, and without hauteur, the motto of the french chevalier:-- "je suis ni roi, ni prince aussi, je suis le seigneur de coucy." "nor king, nor duke? your pardon, no; i am the master of thoreau." they lived their life according to their genius, without the fear of man or of "the world's dread laugh," saying to fortune what tennyson sings:-- "turn, fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown,-- with that wild wheel we go not up nor down; our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. smile, and we smile, the lords of many lands; frown, and we smile, the lords of our own hands,-- for man is man, and master of his fate." chapter ii. childhood and youth. concord, the massachusetts town in which thoreau was born, is to be distinguished from the newer but larger town of the same name which became the capital of new hampshire about the time the first american thoreau made his appearance in "old concord." the latter, the first inland plantation of the massachusetts colony, was bought of the indians by major willard, a kentish man, and rev. peter bulkeley, a puritan clergyman from the banks of the ouse in bedfordshire, and was settled under their direction in . mr. bulkeley, from whom mr. emerson and many of the other concord citizens of thoreau's day were descended, was the first minister of the town, which then included the present towns of concord, acton, bedford, carlisle, and lincoln; and among his parishioners were the ancestors of the principal families that now inhabit these towns. concord itself, the centre of this large tract, was thought eligible for settlement because of its great meadows on the musketaquid or meadow river. it had been a seat of the massachusetts indians, and a powerful sachem, tahattawan, lived between its two rivers, where the assabet falls into the slow-gliding musketaquid. thoreau, the best topographer of his birthplace, says:-- "it has been proposed that the town should adopt for its coat of arms a field verdant, with the concord circling nine times round. i have read that a descent of an eighth of an inch in a mile is sufficient to produce a flow. our river has probably very near the smallest allowance. but wherever it makes a sudden bend it is shallower and swifter, and asserts its title to be called a river. for the most part it creeps through broad meadows, adorned with scattered oaks, where the cranberry is found in abundance, covering the ground like a mossbed. a row of sunken dwarf willows borders the stream on one or both sides, while at a greater distance the meadow is skirted with maples, alders, and other fluviatile trees, overrun with the grape-vine, which bears fruit in its season, purple, red, white, and other grapes." from these river-grapes, by seedling cultivation, a concord gardener, in thoreau's manhood, bred and developed the concord grape, which is now more extensively grown throughout the united states than any other vine, and once adorned, in vineyards large and small, the hillsides over which thoreau rambled. the uplands are sandy in many places, gravelly and rocky in others, and nearly half the township is now covered, as it has always been, with woods of oak, pine, chestnut, and maple. it is a town of husbandmen, chiefly, with a few mechanics, merchants, and professional men in its villages; a quiet region, favorable to thought, to rambling, and to leisure, as well as to that ceaseless industry by which new england lives and thrives. its population in approaches , , but at thoreau's birth it did not exceed , . there are few great estates in it, and little poverty; the mode of life has generally been plain and simple, and was so in thoreau's time even more than now. when he was born, and for some years afterward, there was but one church, and the limits of the parish and the township were the same. at that time it was one of the two shire towns of the great county of middlesex,--cambridge, thirteen miles away, being the other. it was therefore a seat of justice and a local centre of trade,--attracting lawyers and merchants to its public square much more than of late years. trade in concord then was very different from what it has been since the railroad began to work its revolutions. in the old days, long lines of teams from the upper country, new hampshire and vermont, loaded with the farm products of the interior, stopped nightly at the taverns, especially in the winter, bound for the boston market, whence they returned with a cargo for their own country. if a thaw came on, or there was bad sleighing in boston, the drivers, anxious to lighten their loads, would sell and buy in the concord public square, to the great profit of the numerous traders, whose little shops stood around or near it. then, too, the hitching-posts in front of the shops had full rows of wagons and chaises from the neighboring towns fastened there all day long; while the owners looked over goods, priced, chaffered, and beat down by the hour together the calicoes, sheetings, shirtings, kerseymeres, and other articles of domestic need,--bringing in, also, the product of their own farms and looms to sell or exchange. each "store" kept an assortment of "west india goods," dry goods, hardware, medicines, furniture, boots and shoes, paints, lumber, lime, and the miscellaneous articles of which the village or the farms might have need; not to mention a special trade in new england rum and old jamaica, hogsheads of which were brought up every week from boston by teams, and sold or given away by the glass, with an ungrudging hand. a little earlier than the period now mentioned, when colonel whiting (father of the late eminent lawyer, abraham lincoln's right-hand adviser in the law of emancipation, william whiting, of boston) was a lad in concord village, "there were five stores and three taverns in the middle of the town, where intoxicating liquors were sold by the glass to any and every body; and it was the custom, when a person bought even so little as fifty cents' worth of goods, to offer him a glass of liquor, and it was generally accepted." such was the town when john thoreau, the jerseyman, came there to die in , and such it remained during the mercantile days of john thoreau, his son, who was brought up in a house on the public square, and learned the business of buying and selling in the store of deacon white, close by. pencil-making, the art by which he earned his modest livelihood during henry thoreau's youth, was introduced into concord about by william munroe, whose son has in later years richly endowed the small free library from which thoreau drew books, and to which he gave some of his own. in this handicraft, which was at times quite profitable, the younger thoreaus assisted their father from time to time, and henry acquired great skill in it; even to the extent, says mr. emerson, of making as good a pencil as the best english ones. "his friends congratulated him that he had now opened his way to fortune. but he replied that he should never make another pencil. 'why should i? i would not do again what i have done once.'" thoreau may have said this, but he afterward changed his mind, for he went on many years, at intervals, working at his father's business, which in time grew to be mainly the preparation of fine-ground plumbago for electrotyping. this he supplied to various publishers, and among others to the harpers, for several years. but what he did in this way was incidental, and as an aid to his father, his mother, or his sister sophia, who herself carried on the business for some time after the death of henry in . it was the family employment, and must be pursued by somebody. perpetuity, indeed, and hereditary transmission of everything that by nature and good sense can be inherited, are among the characteristics of concord. the heywood family has been resident in concord for two hundred and fifty years or so, and in that time has held the office of town clerk, in lineal succession from father to son, for one hundred years at least. the grandson of the first john heywood filled the office (which is the most responsible in town, and generally accompanied by other official trusts) for eighteen years, beginning in ; his son held the place with a slight interregnum for thirteen years; his nephew, dr. abiel heywood, was town clerk from to without a break, and dr. heywood's son, mr. george heywood, was the town clerk for thirty-odd years after march, . of the dozen ministers who, since , have preached in the parish church, five were either bulkeleys or emersons, descendants of the first minister, or else connected by marriage with that clerical line; and the young minister who, in the year , accepted the pastorate of rev. peter bulkeley, is a descendant, and bears the same name. mr. emerson himself, the great clerk of concord, which was his lay parish for almost half a century after he ceased to preach in its pulpit, counted among his ancestors four of the concord pastors, whose united ministry covered a century; while his grandmother's second husband, dr. ripley, added a half century more to the family ministry. for this ancestral claim, quite as much as for his gift of wit and eloquence, mr. emerson was chosen, in , to commemorate by an oration the two hundredth anniversary of the town settlement. in this discourse he said:-- "i have had much opportunity of access to anecdotes of families, and i believe this town to have been the dwelling-place, in all times since its planting, of pious and excellent persons, who walked meekly through the paths of common life, who served god and loved man, and never let go their hope of immortality. i find our annals marked with a uniform good sense. i find no ridiculous laws, no eavesdropping legislators, no hanging of witches, no ghosts, no whipping of quakers, no unnatural crimes. the old town clerks did not spell very correctly, but they contrived to make pretty intelligible the will of a free and just community." into such a community henry thoreau, a free and just man, was born. dr. heywood, above-named, was the first town clerk he remembered, and the one who entered on the records the marriage of his father and mother, and the birth of all the children. he cried the banns of john thoreau and cynthia dunbar in the parish meeting-house; and he was the last clerk who made this sunday outcry. he thus proclaimed his own autumnal nuptials in , when he married for the first time at the age of sixty-three. the banns were cried at the opening of the service, and this compelled the town clerk to be a more regular attendant in the meeting-house than his successors have found necessary. dr. heywood's pew was about half-way down the broad aisle, and in full view of the whole congregation, whether in the "floor pews" or "up in the galleries." wearing his old-fashioned coat and small-clothes, the doctor would rise in his pew, deliberately adjust his spectacles, and look about for a moment, in order to make sure that his audience was prepared; then he made his proclamation with much emphasis of voice and dignity of manner. there was a distinction, however, in the manner of "publishing the banns" of the white and the black citizens; the former being "cried" in the face of the whole congregation, and the latter simply "posted" in the meeting-house porch, as was afterwards the custom for all. dr. heywood, from a sense of justice, or some other proper motive, determined on one occasion to "post" a white couple, instead of giving them the full benefit of his sonorous voice; but, either because they missed the _éclat_ of the usual proclamation, or else felt humiliated at being "posted like niggers in the porch," they brought the town clerk to justice forthwith, and he was forced for once to yield to popular outcry, and join in the outcry himself. after publishing his own banns, and just before the wedding, he for the first time procured a pair of trousers,--having worn knee-breeches up to that time, as colonel may (the father-in-law of mr. alcott) and others had thought it proper to wear them. when dr. heywood told his waggish junior, 'squire brooks, of the purchase, and inquired how young gentlemen put their trousers on, his legal neighbor advised him that they were generally put on over the head. dr. heywood survived amid "this age loose and all unlaced," as marvell says, until , having practiced medicine, more or less, in concord for upward of forty years, and held court there as a local justice for almost as long. dr. isaac hurd, who was his contemporary, practiced in concord for fifty-four years, and in all sixty-five years; and dr. josiah bartlett, who accompanied and succeeded dr. hurd, practiced in concord nearly fifty-eight years; while the united medical service of himself and his father, dr. josiah bartlett of charlestown, was one hundred and two years. dr. bartlett himself was one of the most familiar figures in concord through thoreau's life-time, and for fifteen years after. to him have been applied, with more truth, i suspect, than to "mr. robert levet, a practiser in physic," those noble lines of dr. johnson on his humble friend:-- "well tried through many a varying year, see levet to the grave descend, officious, innocent, sincere, _of every friendless name the friend_." he said more than once that for fifty years no severity of weather had kept him from visiting his distant patients,--sometimes miles away,--except once, and then the snow was piled so high that his sleigh upset every two rods; and when he unharnessed and mounted his horse, the beast, floundering through a drift, slipped him off over his crupper. he was a master of the horse, and encouraged that proud creature to do his best in speed. one of his neighbors mentioned in his hearing a former horse of dr. bartlett's, which was in the habit of running away. "by faith!" said the doctor (his familiar oath), "i recollect that horse; he was a fine traveler, but i have no remembrance that he ever ran away." when upwards of seventy, he was looking for a new horse. the jockey said, "doctor, if you were not so old, i have a horse that would suit you." "hm!" growled the doctor, "don't talk to me about _old_. let's see your horse;" and he bought him, and drove him for eight years. he practiced among the poor with no hope of reward, and gave them, besides, his money, his time, and his influence. one day a friend saw him receiving loads of firewood from a shiftless man to whom he had rendered gratuitous service in sickness for twenty years. "ah, doctor! you are getting some of your back pay." "by faith! no; the fellow is poor, so i paid him for his wood, and let him go." dr. bartlett did not reach concord quite in season to assist at the birth of henry thoreau; but from the time his parents brought him back to his native town from boston, in , to the day of sophia thoreau's death, in , he might have supplied the needed medical aid to the family, and often did so. the young henry dwelt in his first tabernacle on the virginia road but eight months, removing then to a house on the lexington road, not far from where mr. emerson afterwards established his residence, on the edge of concord village. in the mean time he had been baptized by dr. ripley in the parish church, at the age of three months; and his mother boasted that he did not cry. his aunt, sarah thoreau, taught him to walk when he was fourteen months old, and before he was sixteen months he removed to chelmsford, "next to the meeting-house, where they kept the powder, in the garret," as was the custom in many village churches of new england then. coming back to concord before he was six years old, he soon began to drive his mother's cow to pasture, barefoot, like other village boys; just as emerson, when a boy in boston, a dozen years before, had driven his mother's cow where now the fine streets and halls are. thoreau, like emerson, began to go to school in boston, where he lived for a year or more in pinckney street. but he returned to concord in , and, except for short visits or long walking excursions, he never left the town again till he died, in . he there went on with his studies in the village schools, and fitted for harvard college at the "academy," which 'squire hoar, colonel whiting, 'squire brooks, and other magnates of the town had established about . this private school was generally very well taught, and here thoreau himself taught for a while in after years. in his boyhood it had become a good place to study greek, and in , when perhaps henry thoreau was one of its pupils, mr. charles emerson, visiting his friends in concord, wrote thus of what he saw there: "mr. george bradford and i attended the exhibition yesterday at the academy. we were extremely gratified. to hear little girls saying their greek grammar and young ladies read xenophon was a new and very agreeable entertainment." thoreau must have been beginning his greek grammar about that time, for he entered college in , and was then proficient in greek. he must also have gone, as a boy, to the "concord lyceum," where he afterwards lectured every winter. concord, as the home of famous lawyers and active politicians, was always a place of resort for political leaders, and thoreau might have seen and heard there all the celebrated congressmen and governors of massachusetts, at one time and another. he could remember the visit of lafayette to concord in , and the semi-centennial celebration of the concord fight in . in he doubtless looked forward with expectation for the promised lecture of edward everett before the lyceum, concerning which mr. everett wrote as follows to dr. ripley (november , ):-- "i am positively forbidden by my physician to come to concord to-day. to obviate, as far as possible, the inconvenience which this failure might cause the lyceum, i send you the lecture which i should have delivered. it is one which i have delivered twice before; but my health has prevented me from preparing another. although _in print_, as you see, it has _not been published_. i held it back from publication to enable me, with propriety, to deliver it at concord. should you think it worth while to have it read to the meeting, it is at your service for that purpose; and, should this be done, i would suggest, as it is one hour and three quarters long, that some parts should be omitted. for this reason i have inclosed some passages in brackets, which can be spared without affecting the context." it would hardly occur to a popular lecturer now to apologize because he had delivered his lecture twice before, or to send the copy forward, when he could not himself be there to read it. mr. emerson began to lecture in the concord lyceum before , when he came to reside in the town. in october of that year he wrote to dr. ripley, declining to give the opening lecture, but offering to speak in the course of the winter, as he did. during its first half century he lectured nearly a hundred times in this lyceum, reading there, first and last, nearly all the essays he published in his lifetime, and many that have since been printed. thoreau gave his first lecture there in april, , and afterwards lectured nearly every year for more than twenty years. on one occasion, very early in his public career, when the expected lecturer of the lyceum failed to come, as mr. everett had failed, but had not been thoughtful enough to send a substitute, henry thoreau and mr. alcott were pressed into the service, and spoke before the audience in duet, and with opinions extremely heretical,--both being ardent radicals and "come-outers." a few years after this (in ), wendell phillips made his first appearance before the concord lyceum, and spoke in a manner which thoreau has described in print, and which led to a sharp village controversy, not yet quite forgotten on either side. but to return to the childhood and youth of thoreau. when he was three or four years old, at chelmsford, on being told that he must die, as well as the men in the new england primer, and having the joys of heaven explained to him, he said, as he came in from "coasting," that he did not want to die and go to heaven, because he could not carry his sled to so fine a place; for, he added, "the boys say it is not shod with iron, and not worth a cent." at the age of ten, says channing, "he had the firmness of the indian, and could repress his pathos, and had such seriousness that he was called 'judge.'" as an example of childish fortitude, it is related that he carried his pet chickens for sale to the tavern-keeper in a basket; whereupon mr. wesson told him to 'stop a minute,' and, in order to return the basket promptly, took the darlings out, and wrung their necks, one by one, before the boy's eyes, who wept inwardly, but did not budge. having a knack at whittling, and being asked by a schoolmate to make him a bow and arrow, young henry refused, not deigning to give the reason,--that he had no knife. "so through life," says channing, "he steadily declined trying or pretending to do what he had no means to execute, yet forbore explanations." he was a sturdy and kindly playmate, whose mirthful tricks are yet remembered by those who frolicked with him, and he always abounded with domestic affection. while in college he once asked his mother what profession she would have him choose. she said, pleasantly, "you can buckle on your knapsack, dear, and roam abroad to seek your fortune;" but the thought of leaving home and forsaking concord made the tears roll down his cheeks. then his sister helen, who was standing by, says channing, "tenderly put her arm around him and kissed him, saying, 'no, henry, you shall not go; you shall stay at home and live with us.'" and this, indeed, he did, though he made one or two efforts to seek his fortune for a time elsewhere. his reading had been wide and constant while at school, and after he entered college at the age of sixteen. his room in cambridge was in hollis hall; his instructors were such as he found there, but in rhetoric he profited much by the keen intelligence of professor channing, an uncle of his future friend and biographer, ellery channing. i think he also came in contact, while in college, with that singular poet, jones very, of salem. he was by no means unsocial in college, though he did not form such abiding friendships as do many young men. he graduated in . his expenses at cambridge, which were very moderate, compared with what a poor scholar must now pay to go through college, were paid in part by his father, in part by his aunts and his elder sister, helen, who had already begun to teach school; and for the rest he depended on his own efforts and the beneficiary funds of the college, in which he had some little share. i have understood that he received the income of the same modest endowment which had been given to william and ralph waldo emerson when in college, some years before; and in other ways the generous thought of that most princely man, waldo emerson, was not idle in his behalf, though he knew thoreau then only as the studious son of a townsman, who needed a friend at court. what mr. emerson wrote to josiah quincy, who was then president of harvard college, in behalf of henry thoreau does not appear, except from the terms of old quincy's reply; but we may infer it. thoreau had the resource of school-keeping in the country towns, during the college vacation and the extra vacation that a poor scholar could claim; and this brought him, in , to an acquaintance with that elder scholar, brownson, who afterwards became a catholic doctor of theology. he left college one winter to teach school at canton, near boston, where he was examined by rev. orestes a. brownson, then a protestant minister in canton. he studied german and boarded with mr. brownson while he taught the school. in , he records in his journal that he "went to new york with father, peddling." in his senior year, - , he was ill for a time, and lost rank with his instructors by his indifference to the ordinary college motives for study. this fact, and also that he was a beneficiary of the college, further appears from the letter of president quincy to mr. emerson, as follows:-- "cambridge, _ th june, _. "my dear sir,--your view concerning thoreau is entirely in consent with that which i entertain. his general conduct has been very satisfactory, and i was willing and desirous that whatever falling off there had been in his scholarship should be attributable to his sickness. he had, however, imbibed some notions concerning emulation and college rank which had a natural tendency to diminish his zeal, if not his exertions. his instructors were impressed with the conviction that he was indifferent, even to a degree that was faulty, and that they could not recommend him, consistent with the rule by which they are usually governed in relation to beneficiaries. i have always entertained a respect for and interest in him, and was willing to attribute any apparent neglect or indifference to his ill health rather than to wilfulness. i obtained from the instructors the authority to state all the facts to the corporation, and submit the result to their discretion. this i did, and that body granted _twenty-five dollars_, which was within _ten_, or at most _fifteen_, dollars of any sum he would have received, had no objection been made. there is no doubt that, from some cause, an unfavorable opinion has been entertained, since his return after his sickness, of his disposition to exert himself. to what it has been owing may be doubtful. i appreciate very fully the goodness of his heart and the strictness of his moral principle; and have done as much for him as, under the circumstances, was possible. "very respectfully, your humble servant, "josiah quincy. "rev. r. w. emerson." it is possible the college faculty may have had other grounds of distrust in thoreau's case. on may , , his classmate peabody wrote him the following letter from cambridge,--thoreau being then at home, for some reason,--from which we may infer that the sober youth was not averse to such deeds as are there related:-- "the davy club got into a little trouble, the week before last, from the following circumstance: h. w. gave a lecture on pyrotechny, and illustrated it with a parcel of fireworks he had prepared in the vacation. as you may imagine, there was some slight noise on the occasion. in fact, the noise was so slight that tutor b. heard it at his room in holworthy. this worthy boldly determined to march forth and attack the 'rioters.' accordingly, in the midst of a grand display of rockets, etc., he stepped into the room, and, having gazed round him in silent astonishment for the space of two minutes, and hearing various cries of 'intrusion!' 'throw him over!' 'saw his leg off!' 'pull his wool!' etc., he made two or three dignified motions with his hand to gain attention, and then kindly advised us to 'retire to our respective rooms.' strange to say, he found no one inclined to follow this good advice, and _he_ accordingly thought fit to withdraw. there is, as perhaps you know, a law against keeping powder in the college buildings. the effect of tutor b.'s intrusion was evident on the next monday night, when h. w. and b. were invited to call and see president quincy; and owing to the tough reasoning of tutor b., who boldly asserted that 'powder was powder,' they were each presented with a public admonition. "we had a miniature volcano at webster's lecture, the other morning [this was professor webster, afterwards hanged for the murder of dr. parkman], and the odors therefrom surpassed all ever produced by araby the blest. imagine to yourself all the windows and shutters of the lecture-room closed, and then conceive the delightful scent produced by the burning of nearly a bushel of sulphur, phosphoretted hydrogen, and other still more pleasant ingredients. as soon as the burning commenced, there was a general rush to the door, and a crowd collected there, running out every half minute to get a breath of fresh air, and then coming in to see the volcano. 'no noise nor nothing.' bigelow and dr. bacon manufactured some 'laughing gas,' and administered it on the delta. it was much better than that made by webster. jack weiss took some, as usual; wheeler, jo allen, and hildreth each received a dose. wheeler proceeded to dance for the amusement of the company, jo jumped over the delta fence, and sam raved about milton, shakespeare, byron, etc. he took two doses; it produced a great effect on him. he seemed to be as happy as a mortal could desire; talked with shakespeare, milton, etc., and seemed to be quite at home with them." the persons named were classmates of thoreau: one of them afterward rev. john weiss; wheeler was of lincoln, and died early in germany, whither he went to study; samuel tenney hildreth was a brother of richard hildreth, the historian, and also died young. the zest with which his classmate related these pranks to thoreau seems to imply in his correspondent a mind too ready towards such things to please the learned faculty of cambridge. mr. quincy's letter was in reply to one which mr. emerson had written at the request of mrs. thoreau, who feared her son was not receiving justice from the college authorities. thoreau graduated without much distinction, but with a good name among his classmates, and a high reputation for general scholarship. when he went to maine, in may, , to see if there was not some school for him to teach there, he took with him this certificate from his pastor, dr. ripley:-- "concord, _may , _. "to the friends of education,--the undersigned very cheerfully hereby introduces to public notice the bearer, mr. david henry thoreau, as a teacher in the higher branches of useful literature. he is a native of this town, and a graduate of harvard university. he is well disposed and well qualified to instruct the rising generation. his scholarship and moral character will bear the strictest scrutiny. he is modest and mild in his disposition and government, but not wanting in energy of character and fidelity in the duties of his profession. it is presumed his character and usefulness will be appreciated more highly as an acquaintance with him shall be cultivated. cordial wishes for his success, reputation, and usefulness attend him, as an instructor and gentleman. "ezra ripley, "_senior pastor of the first church in concord, mass._ "n. b.--_it is but justice to observe here that the eyesight of the writer is much impaired._" accompanying this artless document is a list of clergymen in the towns of maine,--portland, belfast, camden, kennebunk, castine, ellsworth, etc.,--in the handwriting of the good old pastor, signifying that as young thoreau traveled he should report himself to these brethren, who might forward his wishes. but even at that early date, i suspect that thoreau undervalued the "d. d.'s" in comparison with the "chickadedees," as he plainly declared in his later years. another certificate, in a firmer hand, and showing no token of impaired eyesight, was also carried by thoreau in this first visit to maine. it was this:-- "i cordially recommend mr. henry d. thoreau, a graduate of harvard university in august, , to the confidence of such parents or guardians as may propose to employ him as an instructor. i have the highest confidence in mr. thoreau's moral character, and in his intellectual ability. he is an excellent scholar, a man of energy and kindness, and i shall esteem the town fortunate that secures his services. "r. waldo emerson. "concord, _may , _." the acquaintance of mr. emerson with his young townsman had begun perhaps a year before this date, and had advanced very fast toward intimacy. it originated in this way: a lady connected with mr. emerson's family was visiting at mrs. thoreau's while henry was in college, and the conversation turned on a lecture lately read in concord by mr. emerson. miss helen thoreau surprised the visitor by saying, "my brother henry has a passage in his diary containing the same things that mr. emerson has said." this remark being questioned, the diary was produced, and, sure enough, the thought of the two passages was found to be very similar. the incident being reported to mr. emerson, he desired the lady to bring henry thoreau to see him, which was soon done, and the intimacy began. it was to this same lady (mrs. brown, of plymouth) that thoreau addressed one of his earliest poems,--the verses called "sic vita," in the "week on the concord and merrimac," commencing:-- "i am a parcel of vain strivings, tied by a chance bond together." these verses were written on a strip of paper inclosing a bunch of violets, gathered in may, , and thrown in at mrs. brown's window by the poet-naturalist. they show that he had read george herbert carefully, at a time when few persons did so, and in other ways they are characteristic of the writer, who was then not quite twenty years old. it may be interesting to see what old quincy himself said, in a certificate, about his stubbornly independent pupil. for the same maine journey cambridge furnished the concord scholar with this document:-- "harvard university, cambridge, _march , _. "to whom it may concern,--i certify that henry d. thoreau, of concord, in this state of massachusetts, graduated at this seminary in august, ; that his rank was high as a scholar in all the branches, and his morals and general conduct unexceptionable and exemplary. he is recommended as well qualified as an instructor, for employment in any public or private school or private family. "josiah quincy, "_president of harvard university_." it seems that there was question, at this time, of a school in alexandria, near washington (perhaps the theological seminary for episcopalians there), in which young thoreau might find a place; for on the th of april, , president quincy wrote to him as follows:-- "sir,--the school is at alexandria; the students are said to be young men well advanced in ye knowledge of ye latin and greek classics; the requisitions are, qualification and _a person who has had experience in school keeping_. salary $ a year, besides washing and board; duties to be entered on ye th or th of may. if you choose to apply, i will write as soon as i am informed of it. state to me your experience in school keeping. yours, "josiah quincy." we now know that thoreau offered himself for the place; and we know that his journey to maine was fruitless. he did, in fact, teach the town grammar school in concord for a few weeks in , and in july, , was teaching, at the parkman house, in concord. he had already, as we have seen, though not yet twenty-one, appeared as a lecturer before the concord lyceum. it is therefore time to consider him as a citizen of concord, and to exhibit further the character of that town. * * * * * _note._--the tutor mentioned on page was francis bowen, afterward professor at harvard; the other "b." was h. j. bigelow, afterward a noted surgeon in boston. chapter iii. concord and its famous people. the thoreau family was but newly planted in concord, to which it was alien both by the father's and the mother's side. but this wise town adopts readily the children of other communities that claim its privileges,--and to henry thoreau these came by birth. of all the men of letters that have given concord a name throughout the world, he is almost the only one who was born there. emerson was born in boston, alcott in connecticut, hawthorne in salem, channing in boston, louisa alcott in germantown, and others elsewhere; but thoreau was native to the soil. and since his genius has been shaped and guided by the personal traits of those among whom he lived, as well as by the hand of god and by the intuitive impulses of his own spirit, it is proper to see what the men of concord have really been. it is from them we must judge the character of the town and its civilization, not from those exceptional, imported persons--cultivated men and women,--who may be regarded as at the head of society, and yet may have no representative quality at all. it is not by the few that a new england town is to be judged, but by the many. yet there were a few and a many in concord, between whom certain distinctions could be drawn, in the face of that general equality which the institutions of new england compel. life in our new country had not yet been reduced to the ranks of modern civilization--so orderly outward, so full of mutiny within. it is mentioned by tacitus, in his life of agricola, that this noble roman lived as a child in marseilles; "a place," he adds, "of grecian culture and provincial frugality, mingled and well blended." i have thought this felicitous phrase of tacitus most apposite for concord as i have known it since , and as thoreau must have found it from onward. its people lived then and since with little display, while learning was held in high regard; and the "plain living and high thinking," which wordsworth declared were gone from england, have never been absent from this new england town. it has always been a town of much social equality, and yet of great social and spiritual contrasts. most of its inhabitants have lived in a plain way for the two centuries and a half that it has been inhabited; but at all times some of them have had important connections with the great world of politics, affairs, and literature. rev. peter bulkeley, the founder and first minister of the town, was a near kinsman of oliver st. john, cromwell's solicitor-general, of the same noble english family that, a generation or two later, produced henry st. john, lord bolingbroke, the brilliant, unscrupulous friend of pope and swift. another of the concord ministers, rev. john whiting, was descended, through his grandmother, elizabeth st. john, wife of rev. samuel whiting, of lynn, from this same old english family, which, in its long pedigree, counted for ancestors the norman conqueror of england and some of his turbulent posterity. he was, says the epitaph over him in the village burying-ground, "a gentleman of singular hospitality and generosity, who never detracted from the character of any man, and was a universal lover of mankind." in this character some representative gentleman of concord has stood in every generation since the first settlement of the little town. the munroes of lexington and concord are descended from a scotch soldier of charles ii.'s army, captured by cromwell at the battle of worcester in , and allowed to go into exile in america. his powerful kinsman, general george munro, who commanded for charles at the battle of worcester, was, at the restoration, made commander-in-chief for scotland. robert cumming, father of dr. john cumming, a celebrated concord physician, was one of the followers of the first pretender in , and when the scotch rebellion of that year failed, cumming, with some of his friends, fled to new england, and settled in concord and the neighboring town of stow. duncan ingraham, a retired sea-captain, who had enriched himself in the surinam trade, long lived in concord, before and after the revolution, and one of his grandchildren was captain marryatt, the english novelist; another was the american naval captain, ingraham, who brought away martin kosta, a hungarian refugee, from the clutches of the austrian government. while duncan ingraham was living in concord, a hundred years ago, a lad from that town, joseph perry, who had gone to sea with paul jones, became a high naval officer in the service of catharine of russia, and wrote to dr. ripley from the crimea in to inquire what had become of his parents in concord, whom he had not seen or heard from for many years. the stepson of duncan ingraham, tilly merrick, of concord, who graduated at cambridge in , made the acquaintance of sir archibald campbell, when captured in boston harbor, that scotch officer having visited at the house of mrs. ingraham, merrick's mother, while a prisoner in concord jail. a few years later merrick was himself captured twice on his way to and from holland and france, whither he went as secretary or attaché to our commissioner, john adams. the first time he was taken to london; the second time to halifax, where, as it happened, sir archibald was then in command as governor of nova scotia. young merrick went presently to the governor's quarters, but was refused admission by the sentinel,--while parleying with whom, sir archibald heard the conversation, and came forward. he at once recognized his concord friend, greeted him cordially with "how do you do, my little rebel?" and after taking good care of him, in remembrance of his own experience in concord, procured merrick's exchange for one of burgoyne's officers, captured at saratoga. returning to america after the war, tilly merrick went into an extensive business at charleston, s. c., with the son of duncan ingraham for a partner, and there became the owner of large plantations, worked by slaves, which he afterwards lost through reverses in business. coming back to concord in , with the remnants of his south carolina fortune, and inheriting his mother's concord estate, he married a lady of the minott family, and became a country store-keeper in his native town. his daughter, mrs. brooks, was for many years the leader of the antislavery party in concord, and a close friend of the thoreaus, who at one time lived next door to her hospitable house. soon after mr. emerson fixed his home in concord, in , a new bond of connection between the town and the great world outside this happy valley began to appear,--the genius of that man whose like has not been seen in america, nor in the whole world in our century:-- "a large and generous man, who, on our moors, built up his thought (though with an indian tongue, and fittest to have sung at persian feasts), yet dwelt among us as the sage he was,-- sage of his days,--patient and proudly true; whose word was worth the world, whose heart was pure. oh, such a heart was his! no gate or bar; the poorest wretch that ever passed his door welcome as highest king or fairest friend." this genius, in one point of view so solitary, but in another so universal and social, soon made itself felt as an attractive force, and concord became a place of pilgrimage, as it has remained for so many years since. when theodore parker left divinity hall, at cambridge, in , and began to preach in unitarian pulpits, he fixed his hopes on concord as a parish, chiefly because emerson was living there. it is said that he might have been called as a colleague for dr. ripley, if it had not been thought his sermons were too learned for the christians of the nine-acre corner and other outlying hamlets of the town. in - mr. alcott began to visit mr. emerson in concord, and in he went there to live. margaret fuller and elizabeth peabody, coadjutors of mr. alcott in his boston school, had already found their way to concord, where margaret at intervals resided, or came and went in her sibylline way. ellery channing, one of the nephews of dr. channing, the divine, took his bride, a sister of margaret fuller, to concord in ; and hawthorne removed thither, upon his marriage with miss peabody's sister sophia, in . after noticing what went on about him for a few years, in his seclusion at the old manse, hawthorne thus described the attraction of concord, in : "it was necessary to go but a little way beyond my threshold before meeting with stranger moral shapes of men than might have been encountered elsewhere in a circuit of a thousand miles. these hobgoblins of flesh and blood were attracted thither by the wide-spreading influence of a great original thinker, who had his earthly abode at the opposite extremity of our village. his mind acted upon other minds of a certain constitution with wonderful magnetism, and drew many men upon long pilgrimages to speak with him face to face. young visionaries, to whom just so much of insight had been imparted as to make life all a labyrinth around them, came to seek the clew that should guide them out of their self-involved bewilderment. gray-headed theorists, whose systems, at first air, had finally imprisoned them in an iron framework, traveled painfully to his door, not to ask deliverance, but to invite the free spirit into their own thralldom. people that had lighted on a new thought, or a thought that they fancied new, came to emerson, as the finder of a glittering gem hastens to a lapidary to ascertain its quality and value." the picture here painted still continued to be true until long after the death of thoreau; and the attraction was increased at times by the presence in the village of hawthorne himself, of alcott, and of others who made concord their home or their haunt. thoreau also was resorted to by pilgrims, who came sometimes from long distances and at long intervals, to see and talk with him. there was in the village, too, a consular man, for many years the first citizen of concord,--samuel hoar,--who made himself known abroad by sheer force of character and "plain heroic magnitude of mind." it was of him that emerson said, at his death in november, ,-- "he was a man in whom so rare a spirit of justice visibly dwelt that if one had met him in a cabin or in a forest he must still seem a public man, answering as sovereign state to sovereign state; and might easily suggest milton's picture of john bradshaw, that he 'was a consul from whom the fasces did not depart with the year, but in private seemed ever sitting in judgment on kings.' he returned from courts or congresses to sit down with unaltered humility, in the church or in the town-house, on the plain wooden bench, where honor came and sat down beside him." in his house and in a few others along the elm-planted street, you might meet at any time other persons of distinction, beauty, or wit,--such as now and then glance through the shining halls of cities, and, in great centres of the world's civilization, like london or paris, muster "in solemn troops and sweet societies," which are the ideal of poets and fair women, and the envy of all who aspire to social eminence. thoreau knew the worth of this luxury, too, though, as a friend said of him, "a story from a fisher or hunter was better to him than an evening of triviality in shining parlors, where he was misunderstood." there were not many such parlors in concord, but there was and had constantly been in the town a learned and social element, such as gathers in an old new england village of some wealth and inherited culture. at the head of this circle--which fell off on one side into something like fashion and mere amusement, on another into the activity of trade or politics, and rose, among the women especially, into art and literature and religion--stood, in thoreau's boyhood and youth, a grave figure, yet with something droll about him,--the parish minister and county nestor, dr. ezra ripley, who lived and died in the "old manse." dr. ripley was born in , in woodstock, conn., the same town in which dr. abiel holmes, the father of the poet holmes, was born. he entered harvard college in , came with the students to concord in , when the college buildings at cambridge were occupied by washington and his army, besieging boston, and graduated in . among his classmates were governor gore, samuel sewall, the second chief-justice of massachusetts of that name, and royal tyler, the witty chief-justice of vermont. governor gore used to say that in college he was called "holy ripley," from his devout character. he settled in concord in , and at the age of twenty-nine married the widow of his last predecessor, rev. william emerson (and the daughter of his next predecessor, rev. daniel bliss), who was at their marriage ten years older than her husband, and had a family of five children. dr. ripley's own children were three in number: the reverend samuel ripley, born may , ; daniel bliss ripley, born august , ; and miss sarah ripley, born august , . when this daughter died, not long after her mother, in , breaking, says mr. emerson, "the last tie of blood which bound me and my brothers to his house," dr. ripley said to mr. emerson, "i wish you and your brothers to come to this house as you have always done. you will not like to be excluded; i shall not like to be neglected." he died himself in september, . of dr. ripley countless anecdotes are told in his parish, and he was the best remembered person, except thoreau himself, who had died in concord, till emerson; just as his house, described so finely by hawthorne in his "mosses," is still the best known house in concord. it was for a time the home of mr. emerson, and there, it is said, he wrote his first book, "nature," concerning which, when it came out anonymously, the question was asked, "who is the author of 'nature'?" the reply was, of course, "god and ralph waldo emerson." the old manse was built about for mr. emerson's grandfather, then minister of the parish, and into it he brought his bride, miss phebe bliss (daughter of rev. daniel bliss, of concord, and phebe walker, of connecticut). miss mary emerson, youngest child of this marriage, used to say "she was in arms at the battle of concord," because her mother held her up, then two years old, to see the soldiers from her window; and from his study window her father saw the fight at the bridge. it was the scene of many of the anecdotes, told of dr. ripley, some of which, gathered from various sources, may here be given; it was also, after his death, one of the resorts of thoreau, of margaret fuller, of ellery channing, of dr. hedge, and of the transcendentalists in general. his parishioners to this day associate dr. ripley's form "with whatever was grave and droll in the old, cold, unpainted, uncarpeted, square-pewed meeting-house, with its four iron-gray deacons in their little box under the pulpit; with watts's hymns; with long prayers, rich with the diction of ages; and, not less, with the report like musketry from the movable seats."[ ] one of these "iron-gray deacons," francis jarvis, used to visit the old manse with his children on sunday evenings, and his son, dr. edward jarvis, thus describes another side of dr. ripley's pastoral character:-- "among the very pleasant things connected with the sabbaths in the jarvis family were the visits to dr. ripley in the evening. the doctor had usually a small levee of such friends as were disposed to call. deacon jarvis was fond of going there, and generally took with him one of the children and his wife, when she was able. there were at these levees many of the most intelligent and agreeable men of the town,--mr. samuel hoar, mr. nathan brooks, mr. john keyes, deacon brown, mr. pritchard, major burr, etc. these were extremely pleasant gatherings. the little boys sat and listened, and remembered the cheerful and instructive conversation. there were discussions of religion and morals, of politics and philosophy, the affairs of the town, the news of the day, the religious and social gossip, pleasant anecdotes and witty tales. all were in their best humor. deacon jarvis [adds his son], did not go to these levees every sunday night, though he would have been glad to do so, had he been less distrustful. when his children, who had no such scruples, asked him to go and take them with him, he said he feared that dr. ripley would not like to see him so frequently." according to mr. emerson, dr. ripley was "a natural gentleman; no dandy, but courtly, hospitable, and public spirited; his house open to all men." an old farmer who used to travel thitherward from maine, where dr. ripley had a brother settled in the ministry, used to say that "no horse from the eastern country would go by the doctor's gate." it was one of the listeners at his sunday evening levees, no doubt, who said (at the time when dr. ripley was preparing for his first and last journey to baltimore and washington, in the presidency of the younger adams) "that a man who could tell a story so well was company for kings and for john quincy adams." when p. m., after his release from the state prison, had the effrontery to call on dr. ripley, as an old acquaintance, as they were talking together on general matters, his young colleague, rev. mr. frost, came in. the doctor presently said, "mr. m., my brother and colleague, mr. frost, has come to take tea with me. i regret very much the causes (very well known to you), which make it impossible for me to ask you to stay and break bread with us." mr. emerson, his grandson (by dr. ripley's marriage with the widow of rev. william emerson) relates that he once went to a funeral with dr. ripley, and heard him address the mourners. as they approached the farm-house the old minister said that the eldest son, who was now to succeed the deceased father of a family in his place as a concord yeoman, was in some danger of becoming intemperate. in his remarks to this son, he presently said,-- "sir, i condole with you. i knew your great-grandfather; when i came to this town, in , he was a substantial farmer in this very place, a member of the church, and an excellent citizen. your grandfather followed him, and was a virtuous man. now your father is to be carried to his grave, full of labors and virtues. there is none of that old family left but you, and it rests with you to bear up the good name and usefulness of your ancestors. if _you_ fail--ichabod!--the glory is departed. let us pray." he took mr. emerson about with him in his chaise when a boy, and in passing each house he would tell the story of its family, dwelling especially on the nine church-members who had made a division in the church in the time of his predecessor; every one of the nine having come to bad fortune or a bad end. "the late dr. gardiner," says mr. emerson, "in a funeral sermon on some parishioner, whose virtues did not readily come to mind, honestly said, 'he was good at fires.' dr. ripley had many virtues, and yet, even in his old age, if the firebell was rung, he was instantly on horseback, with his buckets and bag." he had even some willingness, perhaps not equal to the zeal of the hindoo saint, to extinguish the orthodox fires of hell, which had long blazed in new england,--so that men might worship god with less fear. but he had small sympathy with the transcendentalists when they began to appear in concord. when mr. emerson took his friend mr. alcott to see the old doctor, he gave him warning that his brilliant young kinsman was not quite sound in the faith, and bore testimony in particular against a sect of his own naming, called "egomites" (from _ego_ and _mitto_), who "sent themselves" on the lord's errands without any due call thereto. dr. channing viewed the "apostles of the newness" with more favor, and could pardon something to the spirit of liberty which was strong in them. the occasional correspondence between the concord shepherd of his people and the great unitarian preacher is full of interest. in february, , when he was eighty-eight years old and weighed down with infirmities, he could still lift up his voice in testimony. he then wrote to dr. channing:-- "broken down with the infirmities of age, and subject to fits that deprive me of reason and the use of my limbs, i feel it a duty to be patient and submissive to the will of god, who is too wise to err, and too good to injure. my mind labors and is oppressed, viewing the present state of christianity, and the various speculations, opinions, and practices of the passing period. extremes appear to be sought and loved, and their novelty gains attention. you, sir, appear to retain and act upon the sentiment of the latin phrase,-- "'est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines.' "the learned and estimable norton appears to me to have weakened his hold on public opinion and confidence by his petulance or pride, his want of candor and charity." six years earlier, dr. channing had written to dr. ripley almost as if replying to some compliment like this, and expressed himself thus, in a letter dated january , ,-- "i thank god for the testimony which you have borne to the usefulness of my writings. such approbation from one whom i so much venerate, and who understands so well the wants and signs of the times, is very encouraging to me. if i have done anything towards manifesting christianity in its simple majesty and mild glory i rejoice, and i am happy to have contributed anything towards the satisfaction of your last years. it would gratify many, and would do good, if, in the quiet of your advanced age, you would look back on the eventful period through which you have passed, and would leave behind you, or give now, a record of the changes you have witnessed, and especially of the progress of liberal inquiry and rational views in religion."[ ] dr. ripley's prayers were precise and undoubting in their appeal for present providences. he prayed for rain and against the lightning, "that it may not lick up our spirits;" he blessed the lord for exemption from sickness and insanity,--"that we have not been tossed to and fro until the dawning of the day, that we have not been a terror to ourselves and to others." one memorable occasion, in the later years of his pastorate, when he had consented to take a young colleague, is often remembered in his parish, now fifty years after its date. the town was suffering from drought, and the farmers from barrett's mill, bateman's pond, and the nine-acre corner had asked the minister to pray for rain. mr. goodwin (the father of professor goodwin, of harvard university) had omitted to do this in his morning service, and at the noon intermission dr. ripley was reminded of the emergency by the afflicted farmers. he told them courteously that mr. goodwin's garden lay on the river, and perhaps he had not noticed how parched the uplands were; but he entered the pulpit that afternoon with an air of resolution and command. mr. goodwin, as usual, offered to relieve the doctor of the duty of leading in prayer, but the old shepherd, as mr. emerson says, "rejected his offer with some humor, and with an air that said to all the congregation, 'this is no time for you young cambridge men; the affair, sir, is getting serious; i will pray myself.'" he did so, and with unusual fervor demanded rain for the languishing corn and the dry grass of the field. as the story goes, the afternoon opened fair and hot, but before the dwellers in nine-acre corner and the north quarter reached their homes a pouring shower rewarded the gray-haired suppliant, and reminded concord that the righteous are not forsaken. another of mr. emerson's anecdotes bears on this point:-- "one august afternoon, when i was in his hayfield, helping him, with his man, to rake up his hay, i well remember his pleading, almost reproachful looks at the sky, when the thunder-gust was coming up to spoil his hay. he raked very fast, then looked at the cloud, and said, 'we are in the lord's hand,--mind your rake, george! we are in the lord's hand;' and seemed to say, 'you know me; this field is mine,--dr. ripley's, thine own servant.'" in his later years dr. ripley was much distressed by a schism in his church, which drew off to a trinitarian congregation several of his oldest friends and parishioners. among the younger members who thus seceded, seventy years ago, were the maiden aunts of thoreau, jane and maria,--the last of whom, and the last of the name in america, has died recently, as already mentioned. thoreau seceded later, but not to the "orthodox" church,--as much against the wish of dr. ripley, however, as if he had. in later years, thoreau's church (of the sunday walkers) was recognized in the village gossip; so that when i first spent sunday in concord, and asked my landlord what churches there were, he replied, "the unitarian, the orthodox, and the walden pond association." to the latter he professed to belong, and said its services consisted in walking on sunday in the walden woods. dr. ripley would have viewed such rites with horror, but they have now become common. his old manse, which from to was occupied by hawthorne, was for twenty years ( - ) the home of mrs. sarah ripley, that sweet and learned lady, and has since been the dwelling-place of her children, the grandchildren of dr. ripley. near by stands now the statue of the concord minute-man of , marking the spot to which the middlesex farmers came "in sloven dress and broken rank," and where they stood when in unconscious heroism they "fired the shot heard round the world," and drove back the invading visitor from their doorsteps and cornfields. dr. ripley, however, seldom repelled a visitor or an invader, unless he came from too recent an experience in the state prison, or offered to "break out" his path on a sunday, when he had fancied himself too much snow-bound to go forth to his pulpit. the anecdote is characteristic, if not wholly authentic. one sunday, after a severe snow-storm, his neighbor, the great farmer on ponkawtassett hill, half a mile to the northward of the old manse, turned out his ox-teams and all his men and neighbors to break a path to the meeting-house and the tavern. wallowing through the drifts, they had got as far as dr. ripley's gate, while the good parson, snugly blocked in by a drift completely filling his avenue of ash-trees, thought of nothing less than of going out to preach that day. the long team of oxen, with much shouting and stammering from the red-faced farmer, was turned out of the road and headed up the avenue, when dr. ripley, coming to his parsonage door, and commanding silence, began to berate captain b. for breaking the sabbath and the roads at one stroke,--implying, if not asserting, that he did it to save time and oxen for his monday's work. angered at the ingratitude of his minister, the stammering farmer turned the ten yoke of cattle round in the doctor's garden, and drove on to the village, leaving the parson to shovel himself out and get to meeting the best way he could. meanwhile, the teamsters sat in the warm bar-room at the tavern, and cheered themselves with punch, flip, grog, and toddy, instead of going to hear dr. ripley hold forth; and when he had returned to his parsonage they paraded their oxen and sleds back again, past his gate, with much more shouting than at first. this led to a long quarrel between minister and parishioner, in course of which, one day, as the doctor halted his chaise in front of the farmer's house on the hill, the stammering captain came forward, a peck measure in his hand, with which he had been giving his oxen their meal, and began to renew the unutterable grievance. waxing warm, as the doctor admonished him afresh, he smote with his wooden measure on the shafts of the chaise, until his gentle wife, rushing forth, called on the neighbors to stop the fight which she fancied was going on between the charioteer of the lord and the foot-soldier. despite these outbursts, and his habitual way of looking at all things "from the parochial point of view," as emerson said of him, he was also a courteous and liberal-minded man, as the best anecdotes of him constantly prove. he was the sovereign of his people, managing the church, the schools, the society meetings, and, for a time, the lyceum, as he thought fit. the lecturers, as well as the young candidates for school-keeping--theodore parker, edward everett, and the rest--addressed themselves to him, and when he met webster, then the great man of massachusetts, it was on equal terms. daniel webster was never a lyceum lecturer in concord, and he did not often try cases there, but was sometimes consulted in causes of some pecuniary magnitude. when humphrey barrett died (whose management of his nephew's estate will be mentioned in the next chapter), his heir by will (a young man without property, until he should inherit the large estate bequeathed him), found it necessary to employ counsel against the heirs-at-law, who sought to break the will. his attorney went to mr. webster in boston and related the facts, adding that his client could not then pay a large fee, but might, if the cause were gained, as mr. webster thought it would be. "you may give me one hundred dollars as a retainer," said webster, "and tell the young man, from me, that when i win his case i shall send him a bill that will make his hair stand on end." it so happened, however, that webster was sent to the senate, and the case was won by his partner. in the summer of , while thoreau was living at staten island, webster visited concord to try an important case in the county court, which then held sessions there. this was the "wyman trial," long famous in local traditions, webster and choate being both engaged in the case, and along with them mr. franklin dexter and mr. rockwood hoar, the latter a young lawyer, who had been practicing in the middlesex courts for a few years, where his father, mr. samuel hoar, was the leader of the bar. judge allen (charles allen of worcester) held the court, and the eminent array of counsel just named was for the defense. the occasion was a brilliant one, and made a great and lasting sensation in the village. mr. webster and his friends were entertained at the houses of the chief men of concord, and the villagers crowded the court-house to hear the arguments and the colloquies between the counsel and the court. webster was suffering from his usual summer annoyance, the "hay catarrh," or "rose cold," which he humorously described afterward in a letter to a friend in concord:-- "you know enough of my miserable catarrh. its history, since i left your hospitable roof, is not worth noting. there would be nothing found in it, either of the sublime or the beautiful; nothing fit for elegant description or a touch of sentiment. not that it has not been a great thing in its way; for i think the _sneezing_ it has occasioned has been truly transcendental. a fellow-sufferer from the same affliction, who lived in cohasset, was asked, the other day, what in the world he took for it? his reply was that he 'took eight handkerchiefs a day.' and this, i believe, is the approved mode of treatment; though the _doses_ here mentioned are too few for severe cases. suffice it to say, my dear lady, that either from a change of air, or the progress of the season, or, what is more probable, from the natural progress of the disease itself, i am much better than when i left concord, and i propose to return to boston to-day, feeling, or hoping, that i may now be struck off the list of invalids." notwithstanding this affliction, mr. webster made himself agreeable to the ladies of concord, old and young, and even the little girls, like louisa alcott, went to the courthouse to see and hear him. he was present at a large tea-party given by mrs. r. w. emerson in his honor, and he renewed his old acquaintance with the dunbars and thoreaus. mr. emerson, writing to thoreau september , , said, briefly, "you will have heard of our 'wyman trial,' and the stir it made in the village. but the cliff and walden, which know something of the railroad, knew nothing of that; not a leaf nodded; not a pebble fell;--why should i speak of it to you?" thoreau was indeed interested in it, and in the striking personality of webster. to his mother he wrote from staten island (august , ):-- "i should have liked to see daniel webster walking about concord; i suppose the town shook, every step he took. but i trust there were some sturdy concordians who were not tumbled down by the jar, but represented still the upright town. where was george minott? he would not have gone far to see him. uncle charles should have been there;--he might as well have been catching cat-naps in concord as anywhere. and, then, what a whetter-up of his memory this event would have been! you'd have had all the classmates again in alphabetical order reversed,--'and seth hunt and bob smith--and he was a student of my father's--and where's put now? and i wonder--you--if henry's been to see george jones yet? a little account with stow--balcolm--bigelow--poor, miserable t-o-a-d (sound asleep). i vow--you--what noise was that? saving grace--and few there be. that's clear as preaching--easter brooks--morally depraved--how charming is divine philosophy--somewise and some otherwise--heighho! (sound asleep again.) webster's a smart fellow--bears his age well. how old should you think he was? you--does he look as if he were two years younger than i?'" this uncle was charles dunbar, of course, who was in fact two years older than webster, and, like him, a new hampshire man. he and his sisters--the mother and the aunt of henry thoreau--had known webster in his youth, when he was a poor young lawyer in new hampshire; and the acquaintance was kept up from time to time as the years brought them together. whenever webster passed a day in concord, as he did nearly every year from to , he would either call on miss dunbar, or she would meet him at tea in the house of mr. cheney, a college classmate of mr. emerson, whom he usually visited; and whose garden was a lovely plot, ornamented with great elm trees, on the bank of the musketaquid. mrs. thoreau was often included in these friendly visits; and it was of this family, as well as of the emersons, hoars, and brookses, no doubt, that webster was thinking when he sadly wrote to mrs. cheney his last letter, less than a year before his death in . in this note, dated at washington, november , , when he was secretary of state under fillmore, mr. webster said:-- "i have very much wished to see you all, and in the early part of october seriously contemplated going to concord for a day. but i was hindered by circumstances, and partly deterred also by changes which have taken place. my valued friend, mr. phinney (of lexington), is not living; and many of those whom i so highly esteemed, in your beautiful and quiet village, have become a good deal estranged, to my great grief, by abolitionism, free-soilism, transcendentalism, and other notions, which i cannot (but) regard as so many vagaries of the imagination. these former warm friends would have no pleasure, of course, in intercourse with one of old-fashioned opinions. nevertheless, dear mrs. cheney, if i live to see another summer, i will make a visit to your house, and talk about former times and former things." he never came; for in june, , the whig convention at baltimore rejected his name as a presidential candidate, and he went home to marshfield to die. the tone of sadness in this note was due, in part, perhaps, to the eloquent denunciation of webster by mr. emerson in a speech at cambridge in , and to the unequivocal aversion with which webster's contemporary, the first citizen of concord, samuel hoar, spoke of his th of march speech, and the whole policy with which webster had identified himself in those dreary last years of his life. mr. hoar had been sent by his state in to protest in south carolina against the unconstitutional imprisonment at charleston of colored seamen from massachusetts; and he had been driven by force from the state to which he went as an envoy. but, although webster knew the gross indignity of the act, and introduced into his written speech in march, , a denunciation of it, he did not speak this out in the senate, nor did it appear in all the authorized editions of the speech. he could hardly expect mr. hoar to welcome him in concord after he had uttered his willingness to return fugitive slaves, but forgot to claim reparation for so shameful an affront to massachusetts as the concord cato had endured. mr. webster was attached to concord--as most persons are who have ever spent pleasant days there--and used to compliment his friend on his house and garden by the river side. looking out upon his great trees from the dining-room window, he once said: "i am in the terrestrial paradise, and i will prove it to you by this. america is the finest continent on the globe, the united states the finest country in america, massachusetts the best state in the union, concord the best town in massachusetts, and my friend cheney's field the best acre in concord." this was an opinion so like that often expressed by henry thoreau, that one is struck by it. indeed, the devotion of thoreau to his native town was so marked as to provoke opposition. "henry talks about nature," said madam hoar (the mother of senator hoar, and daughter of roger sherman of connecticut), "just as if she'd been born and brought up in concord." chapter iv. the embattled farmers. it was not the famous lawyers, the godly ministers, the wealthy citizens, nor even the learned ladies of concord, who interested henry thoreau specially,--but the sturdy farmers, each on his hereditary acres, battling with the elements and enjoying that open-air life which to thoreau was the only existence worth having. as his best biographer, ellery channing, says: "he came to see the inside of every farmer's house and head, his pot of beans, and mug of hard cider. never in too much hurry for a dish of gossip, he could sit out the oldest frequenter of the bar-room, and was alive from top to toe with curiosity." concord, in our day, and still more in thoreau's childhood, was dotted with frequent old farm-houses, of the ample and picturesque kind that bespeaks antiquity and hospitality. in one such he was born, though not one of the oldest or the best. he was present at the downfall of several of these ancient homesteads, in whose date and in the fortunes of their owners for successive generations, he took a deep interest; and still more in their abandoned orchards and door-yards, where the wild apple tree and the vivacious lilac still flourished. to show what sort of men these concord farmers were in the days when their historical shot was fired, let me give some anecdotes and particulars concerning two of the original family stocks,--the hosmers, who first settled in concord in , with bulkeley and willard, the founders of the town; and the barretts, whose first ancestor, humphrey barrett, came over in . james hosmer, a clothier from hawkhurst in kent, with his wife ann (related to major simon willard, that stout kentishman, indian trader and indian fighter, who bought of the squaw sachem the township of concord, six miles square), two infant daughters, and two maid-servants, came from london to boston in the ship "elizabeth," and the next year built a house on concord street, and a mill on the town brook. from him descended james hosmer, who was killed at sudbury in , in an indian fight, stephen, his great-grandson, a famous surveyor, and joseph, his great-great-grandson, one of the promoters of the revolution, who had a share in its first fight at concord bridge. joseph hosmer was the son of a concord farmer, who, in , seceded from the parish church, because rev. daniel bliss, the pastor, had said in a sermon (as his opponents averred), "that it was as great a sin for a man to get an estate by honest labor, if he had not a single aim at the glory of god, as to get it by gaming at cards or dice." what this great-grandfather of emerson did say, a century before the transcendental epoch, was this, as he declared: "if husbandmen plow and sow that they may be rich, and live in the pleasures of this world, and appear grand before men, they are as far from true religion in their plowing, sowing, etc., as men are that game for the same purpose." thomas hosmer, being a prosperous husbandman, perhaps with a turn for display, took offense, and became a worshipper at what was called the "black horse church,"--a seceding conventicle which met at the tavern with the sign of the black horse, near where the concord library now stands. joseph hosmer, his boy, was known at the village school as "the little black colt,"--a lad of adventurous spirit, with dark eyes and light hair, whose mother, prudence hosmer, would repeat old english poetry until all her listeners but her son were weary. when he was thirty-nine years old, married and settled, a farmer and cabinet-maker, there was a convention in the parish church to consider the boston port bill, the doings of general gage in boston, and the advice of samuel adams and john hancock to resist oppression. daniel bliss, the leading lawyer and leading tory in concord, eldest son of parson bliss, and son-in-law of colonel murray, of rutland, vt., the chief tory of that region, made a speech in this convention against the patriotic party. he was a graceful and fluent speaker, a handsome man, witty, sarcastic, and popular, but with much scorn for the plain people. he painted in effective colors the power of the mother country and the feebleness of the colonies; he was elegantly dressed, friendly in his manner, but discouraging to the popular heart, and when he sat down, a deep gloom seemed to settle on the assembly. his brother-in-law, parson emerson, an ardent patriot, if present, was silent. from a corner of the meeting-house there rose at last a man with sparkling eyes, plainly dressed in butternut brown, who began to speak in reply to the handsome young tory, at first slowly and with hesitation, but soon taking fire at his own thoughts, he spoke fluently, in a strain of natural eloquence, which gained him the ear and applause of the assembly. a delegate from worcester, who sat near mr. bliss, noticed that the tory was discomposed, biting his lip, frowning, and pounding with the heel of his silver-buckled shoe. "who is the speaker?" he asked of bliss. "hosmer, a concord mechanic," was the scornful reply. "then how does he come by his english?" "oh, he has an old mother at home, who sits in her chimney-corner and reads and repeats poetry all day long;" adding in a moment, "he is the most dangerous rebel in concord, for he has all the young men at his back, and where he leads the way they will surely follow." four months later, in april, , this concord mechanic made good the words of his tory townsman, for it was his speech to the minute-men which goaded them on to the fight. after forming the regiment as adjutant, he addressed them, closing with these words: "i have often heard it said that the british boasted they could march through our country, laying waste every village and neighborhood, and that we would not dare oppose them,--_and i begin to believe it is true_." then turning to major buttrick, who commanded, and looking off from the hill-side to the village, from which a thick smoke was rising, he cried, "will you let them burn the town down?" whereupon the sturdy major, who had no such intention, ordered his men to march; and when, a few minutes later, the british fired on his column of companies, the acton men at the head, he sprang from the ground shouting, "fire, fellow-soldiers, for god's sake fire!" and discharged his own piece at the same instant. the story has often been told, but will bear repetition. thoreau heard it in from the lips of emerson, as he pronounced the centennial discourse in honor of the town's settlement and history; but he had read it and heard it a hundred times before, from his earliest childhood. mr. emerson added, after describing the fight:-- "these poor farmers who came up, that day, to defend their native soil, acted from the simplest instincts; they did not know it was a deed of fame they were doing. these men did not babble of glory; they never dreamed their children would contend which had done the most. they supposed they had a right to their corn and their cattle, without paying tribute to any but their own governors. and as they had no fear of man, they yet did have a fear of god. captain charles miles, who was wounded in the pursuit of the enemy, told my venerable friend (dr. ripley), who sits by me, 'that he went to the services of that day with the same seriousness and acknowledgment of god, which he carried to church.'" humphrey barrett, fifth in descent from the original settler, was born in , on the farm his ancestors had owned ever since , and was no doubt in arms at concord fight in . his biographer says:-- "some persons slightly acquainted with him in the latter part of his life, judged him to be unsocial, cold, and indifferent, but those most acquainted with him knew him to be precisely the reverse. the following acts of his life make apparent some traits of his character. a negro, by the name of cæsar robbins, had been in the habit of getting all the wood for his family use for many years from mr. barrett's wood-lot near by him; this being done with the knowledge and with the implied if not the express consent of the owner. mr. barrett usually got the wood for his own use from another part of his farm; but on one occasion he thought he would get it from the lot by cæsar's. he accordingly sent two men with two teams, with directions to cut only hard wood. the men had been gone but a few hours when cæsar came to mr. barrett's house, his face covered with sweat, and in great agitation, and says, 'master barrett, i have come to let you know that a parcel of men and teams have broke into our wood-lot, and are making terrible destruction of the very best trees, and unless we do something immediately i shall be ruined.' mr. barrett had no heart to resist this appeal of cæsar's; he told him not to be alarmed, for he would see that he was not hurt, and would put the matter right. he then wrote an order to his men to cut no more wood, but to come directly home with their teams, and sent the order by cæsar."[ ] the biographer of mr. barrett, who was also his attorney and legal adviser, goes on to say:-- "a favorite nephew who bore his name, and whose guardian he was, died under age in , leaving a large estate, and no relatives nearer than uncle and aunt and the children of deceased aunts. mr. barrett believed that the estate in equity ought to be distributed equally between the uncle and aunt and the children of deceased aunts by right of representation.[ ] and although advised that such was not the law, he still insisted upon having the question carried before the supreme court for decision; and when the court decided against his opinion, he carried out his own views of equity by distributing the portion that fell to him according to his opinion of what the law ought to be. after he had been fully advised that the estate would be distributed in a manner he thought neither equitable nor just, he applied to the writer to make out his account as guardian; furnishing the evidence, as he believed, of the original amount of all his receipts as such guardian. i made the account, charging him with interest at six per cent. on all sums from the time of receipt till the time of making the account. mr. barrett took the account for examination, and soon returned it with directions to charge him with compound interest, saying that he believed he had realized as much as that. i accordingly made the account conform to his directions. he then wished me to present this account to the party who claimed half the estate, and ask him to examine it with care and see if anything was omitted. this was done, and no material omission discovered, and no objection made. mr. barrett then said that he had always kept all the property of his ward in a drawer appropriated for the purpose; that he made the amount of property in the drawer greater than the balance of the account; and (handing to me the contents of the drawer) he wished me to ascertain the precise sum to which it amounted. i found that it exceeded the balance of the account by $ , . . he then told me, in substance, that he was quite unwilling to have so large an amount of property go where it was in danger of being distributed inequitably, and particularly as he was confident he had disclosed every source from which he had realized any property of his ward, and also the actual amount received; _but_, as he knew not how it got into the drawer, and had intended all the property there to go to his nephew, he should not feel right to retain it, and therefore directed me to add it to the amount of the estate,--which was done."[ ] conceive a community in which such characters were common, and imagine whether the claim of king george and the fine gentlemen about him, to tax the americans without their own consent would be likely to succeed! i find in obscure anecdotes like this sufficient evidence that if john hampden had emigrated to massachusetts when he had it in mind, he would have found men like himself tilling their own acres in concord. the barretts, from their name, may have been normans, but, like hampden, the hosmers were saxons, and held land in england before william the conqueror. when major hosmer, who was adjutant, and formed the line of the regiment that returned the british fire at concord bridge, had an estate to settle about , the heir to which was supposed to be in england, he employed an agent, who was then visiting london, to notify the heir, and also desired him to go to the heralds' office and ascertain what coat-of-arms belonged to any branch of the hosmer family. when the agent (who may have been mr. tilly merrick, of concord, john adams's attaché in holland), returned to america, after reporting his more important business to major hosmer, he added,-- "i called at the heralds' office in london, and the clerk said, '_there was no coat-of-arms for you, and, if you were an englishman you would not want one; for_ (he said) _there were hosmers in kent long before the conquest; and at the battle of hastings, the men of kent were the vanguard of king harold_.'" if major hosmer's ancestors failed to drive back the invaders then, their descendants made good the failure in concord seven centuries later. thoreau's favorite walk, as he tells us,--the pathway toward heaven,--was along the old marlborough road, west and southwest from concord village, through deep woods in concord and in sudbury. to reach this road he passed by the great hosmer farm-house, built by the old major already mentioned, in or thereabout, and concerning which there is a pretty legend that thoreau may have taken with him along the marlborough road. in , young jo. hosmer, "the little black colt," drove to marlborough one autumn day with a load of furniture he had made for jonathan barnes, a rich farmer, and town clerk in thrifty marlborough. he had received the money for his furniture, and was standing on the doorstep, preparing to go home, when a young girl, lucy barnes, the daughter of the house, ran up to him and said, "concord woods are dark, and a thunderstorm is coming up; you had better stay all night." "since you ask me, i will," was the reply, and the visit was often repeated in the next few months. but when he asked farmer jonathan for his daughter, the reply was,-- "concord plains are barren soil. lucy had better marry her cousin john, whose father will give him one of the best farms in marlborough, with a good house on it, and lucy can match his land acre for acre." joseph returned from that land of egypt, and like a wise youth took the hint, and built a house of his own, planting the elm trees that now overshadow it, after a hundred and twenty years. after the due interval he went again to marlborough, and found lucy barnes in the september sunshine, gathering st. michael's pears in her father's garden. cousin john was married, by this time, to another damsel. miss lucy was bent on having her own way and her own joseph; and so mr. barnes gave his consent. they were married at christmas, ; and lucy came home behind him on his horse, through the same concord woods. she afterwards told her youngest son, with some pique:-- "when my brother jonathan was married, and went to new hampshire, twenty couples on horseback followed them to haverhill, on the merrimac, but when your father and i were married, we came home alone through these dark concord woods."[ ] the son of this lively lucy hosmer, rufus hosmer, of stow, was a classmate, at cambridge, of washington allston, the late chief justice shaw, and dr. charles lowell, father of lowell the poet. they graduated in , and dr. lowell afterwards wrote:-- "i can recall with peculiar pleasure a vacation passed in concord in my senior year, which loammi baldwin, lemuel shaw, washington allston, and myself spent with rufus hosmer at his father's house. i recall the benign face of major hosmer, as he stood in the door to receive us, with his handsome daughter-in-law (the wife of capt. cyrus hosmer) on his arm. there was a charming circle of young people then living in concord, and we boys enjoyed this very much; but we liked best of all to stay at home and listen to the major's stories. it was very pleasant to have a rainy day come for this, and hard to tell which seemed the happier, he or we." forty years afterward, in , dr. lowell's son, james russell lowell, coming under college discipline, was sent to concord to spend a similar summer vacation, and wrote his class poem in that town. major hosmer died in , at the age of eighty-five. mr. samuel hoar, long the leader of the middlesex county bar, who knew him in his later life, once said,-- "in two respects he excelled any one i have ever known; he was more entirely free from prejudice, and also the best reader of men. so clear was his mind and so strong his reasoning power, that i would have defied the most eloquent pleader at the bar to have puzzled him, no matter how skillfully he concealed the weak points of the case. i can imagine him listening quietly, and saying in his slow way, 'it's a pity so many fine words should be wasted, for, you see, the man's on the wrong side.'" another old lawyer of concord, who first saw major hosmer when he was a child of ten, and the major was sixty years old, said,-- "i then formed an opinion of him in two respects that i never altered: first, that he had the handsomest eyes i ever saw; second, those eyes saw the inside of my head as clearly as they did the outside." he was for many years sheriff of the county, and it was the habit of the young lawyers in term-time to get round his chair and ask his opinion about their cases. such was his knowledge of the common law, and so well did he know the judges and jurymen, that when he said to mr. hoar, "i fear you will lose your case," that gentleman said, "from that moment i felt it lost, for i never knew him to make a wrong guess." he was a federalist of the old school, and in his eyes alexander hamilton was the first man in america. his son held much the same opinion of daniel webster. near by major hosmer's farm-house stood the old homestead and extensive farm buildings of the lee family, who at the beginning of the revolution owned one of the two or three great farms in concord. this estate has been owned and sold in one parcel of about four hundred acres ever since it was first occupied by henry woodhouse about . it lies between the two rivers assabet and musketaquid, and includes nahshawtuc, or lee's hill, on which, in early days, was an indian village. the lees inherited it from the original owner, and held it for more than one hundred years, though it narrowly escaped confiscation in , its owner being a tory. early in the present century it fell, by means of a mortgage, into the hands of "old billy gray" (the founder of the fortunes that for two or three generations have been held in the gray family of boston), was by him sold to judge fay, of cambridge, and by him, in , conveyed to his brother-in-law, joseph barrett, of concord, a distant cousin of the humphrey barrett, mentioned elsewhere. joseph barrett had been one of major hosmer's deputies, when the old yeoman was sheriff, but now turned his attention to farming his many acres, and deserves mention here as one of the concord farmers of two generations after the battle, among whom henry thoreau grew up. indeed, the lee farm was one of his most accustomed haunts, since the river flowed round it for a mile or two, and its commanding hill-top gave a prospect toward the western and northwestern mountains, wachusett and monadnoc chief among the beautiful brotherhood, whom thoreau early saluted with a dithyrambic verse:-- "with frontier strength ye stand your ground, with grand content ye circle round, (tumultuous silence for all sound), ye distant nursery of rills, monadnoc and the peterboro hills; * * * * * but special i remember thee, wachusett, who, like me, standest alone without society; thy far blue eye a remnant of the sky." lee's hill (which must be distinguished from lee's cliff, three miles further up the main river), was the centre of this farm, and almost of the township itself, and squire barrett, while he tilled its broad acres (or left them untilled), might be called the centre of the farmers of his county. he was for some years president of the middlesex agricultural society (before which, in later years, emerson, and thoreau, and agassiz gave addresses), and took the prize in the plowing-match at its october cattle-show, holding his own plow, and driving his oxen himself. descending from the committee-room in dress coat and ruffled shirt, he found his plow-team waiting for him, but his rivals in the match already turning their furrows. laying off his coat, and fortifying himself with a pinch of maccaboy, while, as his teamster vowed, "that nigh-ox had his eye on the 'squire from the time he hove in sight, ready to start the minute he took the plow-handles,"--then stepping to the task, six feet and one inch in height, and in weight two hundred and fifty pounds, the 'squire began, and before the field was plowed he had won the premium. he was one of the many new england yeomen we have all known, who gave the lie to the common saying about the sturdier bulk and sinew of our beer-drinking cousins across the water. 'squire barrett could lift a barrel of cider into a cart, and once carried on his shoulders, up two flights of stairs, a sack containing eight bushels of indian corn, which must have weighed more than four hundred pounds. he was a good horseman, an accomplished dancer, and in the hayfield excelled in the graceful sweep of his scythe and the flourish of his pitchfork. in course of time ( ) mr. alcott, with his wife (a daughter of colonel may, of boston), and those daughters who have since become celebrated, came to live in the hosmer cottage not far from 'squire barrett's, and under the very eaves of major hosmer's farm-house, to which in came the fair and willful lucy barnes. the portly and courtly 'squire, who knew colonel may, came to call on his neighbors, and had many a chat with mrs. alcott about her boston kindred, the mays, sewalls, salisburys, etc. his civility was duly returned by mrs. alcott, who, when 'squire barrett was a candidate for state treasurer in , was able, by letters to her friends in boston, to give him useful support. he was chosen, and held the office till his death in , when thoreau had just withdrawn from his walden hermitage, and was publishing his first book, "a week on the concord and merrimack." thoreau's special friend among the farmers was another character, edmund hosmer, a scion of the same prolific hosmer stock, who died in . edmund hosmer, with mr. alcott, george curtis and his brother burrill, and other friends, helped thoreau raise the timbers of his cabin in , and was often his sunday visitor in the hermitage. of him it is that mention is made in "walden," as follows:-- "on a sunday afternoon, if i chanced to be at home, i heard the crunching of the snow, made by the step of a long-headed farmer, who from far through the woods sought my house, to have a social 'crack;' one of the few of his vocation who are 'men on their farms;' who donned a frock instead of a professor's gown, and is as ready to extract the moral out of church or state as to haul a load of manure from his barn-yard. we talked of rude and simple times, when men sat about large fires in cold, bracing weather, with clear heads; and when other dessert failed, we tried our teeth on many a nut which wise squirrels have long since abandoned,--for those which have the thickest shells are commonly empty." edmund hosmer, who was a friend of mr. emerson also, and of whom george curtis and his brother hired land which they cultivated for a time, has been celebrated in prose and verse by other concord authors. i suppose it was he of whom emerson wrote thus in his apologue of saadi, many years ago:-- "said saadi,--when i stood before hassan the camel-driver's door, i scorned the fame of timour brave,-- timour to hassan was a slave. in every glance of hassan's eye i read rich years of victory. and i, who cower mean and small in the frequent interval when wisdom not with me resides, worship toil's wisdom that abides. i shunned his eyes--the faithful man's, i shunned the toiling hassan's glance." edmund hosmer was also, in george curtis's description of a conversation at mr. emerson's house in , "the sturdy farmer neighbor, who had bravely fought his way through inherited embarrassments to the small success of a new england husbandman, and whose faithful wife had seven times merited well of her country." and it may be that he was ellery channing's "spicy farming sage, twisted with heat and cold and cramped with age, who grunts at all the sunlight through the year, and springs from bed each morning with a cheer. of all his neighbors he can something tell, 'tis bad, whate'er, we know, and like it well! the bluebird's song he hears the first in spring,-- shoots the last goose bound south on freezing wing." hosmer might have sat, also, for the more idyllic picture of the concord farmer, which channing has drawn in his "new england":-- "this man takes pleasure o'er the crackling fire, his glittering axe subdued the monarch oak; he earned the cheerful blaze by something higher than pensioned blows.--he owned the tree he stroke, and knows the value of the distant smoke, when he returns at night, his labor done, matched in his action with the long day's sun." near the small farm of edmund hosmer, when mr. curtis lived with him and sometimes worked on his well-tilled acres, lay a larger farm, which, about the beginning of thoreau's active life, was brought from neglect and barrenness into high cultivation by captain abel moore, another concord farmer, and one of the first, in this part of the country, to appreciate the value of our bog-meadows for cultivation by ditching and top-dressing with the sand which nature had so thoughtfully ridged up in hills close by. under the name of "captain hardy," emerson celebrated this achievement of his townsman, upon which the hundreds who in summer strolled to the school of philosophy in mr. alcott's orchard, gazed with admiration,--bettered as it had been by the thirty years' toil and skill bestowed upon it since by captain moore's son and grandson. emerson said:-- "look across the fence into captain hardy's land. there's a musician for you who knows how to make men dance for him in all weathers,--all sorts of men,--paddies, felons, farmers, carpenters, painters,--yes, and trees, and grapes, and ice, and stone,--hot days, cold days. beat that true orpheus lyre if you can. he knows how to make men sow, dig, mow, and lay stone-wall; to make trees bear fruit god never gave them, and foreign grapes yield the juices of france and spain, on his south side. he saves every drop of sap, as if it were his blood. see his cows, his horses, his swine! and he, the piper that plays the jig they all must dance, biped and quadruped, is the plainest, stupidest harlequin, in a coat of no colors. his are the woods, the waters, hills, and meadows. with one blast of his pipe he danced a thousand tons of gravel from yonder blowing sand-heap to the bog-meadow, where the english grass is waving over thirty acres; with another, he winded away sixty head of cattle in the spring, to the pastures of peterboro' on the hills." such were and are the yeomen of concord, among whom thoreau spent his days, a friend to them and they to him, though each sometimes spoke churlishly of the other. he surveyed their wood-lots, laid out their roads, measured their fields and pastures for division among the heirs when a husbandman died, inspected their rivers and ponds, and exchanged information with them concerning the birds, the beasts, insects, flowers, crops, and trees. their yearly cattle show in october was his chief festival,--one of the things he regretted, when living on the edge of new york bay, and sighing for fairhaven and white pond. without them the landscape of his native valley would not have been so dear to his eyes, and to their humble and perennial virtues he owed more inspiration than he would always confess. he read in the crabbed latin of those old roman farmers, cato, varro, and musically-named columella, and fancied the farmers of concord were daily obeying cato's directions, who in turn was but repeating the maxims of a more remote antiquity. "i see the old, pale-faced farmer walking beside his team, with contented thoughts," he says, "for the five thousandth time. this drama every day in the streets; this is the theatre i go to.... human life may be transitory and full of trouble, but the perennial mind, whose survey extends from that spring to this, from columella to hosmer, is superior to change. i will identify myself with that which did not die with columella, and will not die with hosmer." * * * * * _note._--the account of "captain hardy" was copied by channing from emerson's journal into the first biography of thoreau, without the name of the author; and so was credited by me to thoreau in a former edition of this book. chapter v. the transcendental period. although henry thoreau would have been, in any place or time of the world's drama, a personage of note, it has already been observed, in regard to his career and his unique literary gift, that they were affected, and in some sort fashioned by the influences of the very time and place in which he found himself at the opening of life. it was the sunrise of new england transcendentalism in which he first looked upon the spiritual world; when carlyle in england, alcott, emerson, and margaret fuller in massachusetts, were preparing their contemporaries in america for that modern renaissance which has been so fruitful, for the last forty years, in high thought, vital religion, pure literature, and great deeds. and the place of his birth and breeding, the home of his affections, as it was the troy, the jerusalem, and the rome of his imagination, was determined by providence to be that very centre and shrine of transcendentalism, the little village of concord, which would have been saved from oblivion by his books, had it no other title to remembrance. let it be my next effort, then, to give some hint--not a brief chronicle--of that extraordinary age, not yet ended (often as they tell us of its death and epitaph), now known to all men as the transcendental period. we must wait for after-times to fix its limits and determine its dawn and setting; but of its apparent beginning and course, one cycle coincided quite closely with the life of thoreau. he was born in july, , when emerson was entering college at cambridge, and carlyle was wrestling "with doubt, fear, unbelief, mockery, and scoffing, in agony of spirit," at edinburgh. he died in may, , when the distinctly spiritual and literary era of transcendentalism had closed, its years of preparation were over, and it had entered upon the conflict of political regeneration, for which thoreau was constantly sounding the trumpet. in these forty-five years,--a longer period than the age of pericles, or of the medici, or of queen elizabeth,--new england transcendentalism rose, climbed, and culminated, leaving results that, for our america, must be compared with those famous eras of civilization. those ages, in fact, were well-nigh lost upon us, until channing, emerson, thoreau, margaret fuller, and their fellowship, brought us into communication with the greek, the italian, and the noble elizabethan revivals of genius and art. we had been living under the puritan reaction, modified and politically fashioned by the more humane philosophy of the eighteenth century, while the freedom-breathing, but half-barbarizing influences of pioneer life in a new continent, had also turned aside the full force of english and scotch calvinism. it is common to trace the so-called transcendentalism of new england to carlyle and coleridge and wordsworth in the mother-country, and to goethe, richter, and kant in germany; and there is a certain outward affiliation of this sort, which cannot be denied. but that which in our spiritual soil gave root to the foreign seeds thus wafted hitherward, was a certain inward tendency of high calvinism and its counterpart, quakerism, always welling forth in the american colonies. now it inspired cotton, wheelwright, sir harry vane, and mistress anne hutchinson, in massachusetts; now william penn and his quaint brotherhood on the delaware; now jonathan edwards and sarah pierpont, in connecticut; and, again, john woolman, the wandering friend of god and man, in new jersey, nicholas gilman, the convert of whitefield, in new hampshire, and samuel hopkins, the preacher of disinterested benevolence, in rhode island, held forth this noble doctrine of the inner light. it is a gospel peculiarly attractive to poets, so that even the loose-girt davenant, who would fain think himself the left-hand son of shakespeare, told gossiping old aubrey that he believed the world, after a while, would settle into one religion, "an ingenious quakerism,"--that is, a faith in divine communication that would yet leave some scope for men of wit like himself. how truly these american calvinists and quakers prefigured the mystical part of concord philosophy, may be seen by a few of their sayings. jonathan edwards, in , when he was twenty years old, and the fair saint of his adoration was fifteen, thus wrote in his diary what he had seen and heard of sarah pierpont:-- "there is a young lady in new haven who is beloved of that great being who made and rules the world; and there are certain seasons in which this great being, in some way or other invisible, comes to her and fills her mind with exceeding sweet delight, and she hardly cares for anything except to meditate on him. therefore, if you present all the world before her, with the richest of its treasures, she disregards it, and cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or affliction. she has a strange sweetness in her mind, and a singular purity in her affections; is most just and conscientious in all her conduct; and you could not persuade her to do anything wrong or sinful, if you would give her all the world, lest she should offend this great being. she will sometimes go about from place to place singing sweetly, and seems to be always full of joy and pleasure, and no one knows for what. she loves to be alone walking in the fields and groves, and seems to have some one invisible always conversing with her." nicholas gilman, the parish minister of little durham, in new hampshire,--being under concern of mind for his friend whitefield, and the great man of new england, at that time, sir william pepperell, just setting forth for the capture of louisburg--wrote to them in march, ,--to sir william thus:-- "do you indeed love the lord? do you make the lord your guide and counselor in ye affair? if you have a soul, great as that hero david of old, you will ask of the lord, and not go till he bid you: david would not. if you are sincerely desirous to know and do your duty in that and every other respect, and seek of god in faith, you shall know that, and everything else needful, one thing after another, as fast as you are prepared for it. but god will, doubtless, humble such as leave him out of their schemes, as though his providence was not at all concerned in the matter--whereas his blessing is all in all." to whitefield, gilman wrote in the same vein, on the same day:-- "are you sufficiently sure that his call is from above, that he was moved by the holy ghost to this expedition? would it be no advantage to his estate to win the place? may he not have a prospect of doubling his wealth and honours, if crowned with success? what demonstration has he given of being so entirely devoted to the lord? he has a vast many talents,--is it an easy thing for so wise a man to become a fool for christ? so great a man to become a little child? so rich a man to crowd in at the strait gate of conversion, and make so little noise?... if you see good to encourage the expedition, be fully satisfy'd the project was formed in heaven. was the lord first consulted in the affair? did they wait for his counsell?" john woolman, the new jersey quaker (born in , died in ), said,-- "there is a principle which is pure, placed in the human mind, which, in different places and ages hath had different names; it is, however, pure, and proceeds from god. it is deep and inward, confined to no forms of religion, nor excluded from any, when the heart stands in perfect sincerity. in whomsoever this takes root and grows, they become brethren. that state in which every motion from the selfish spirit yieldeth to pure love, i may acknowledge with gratitude to the father of mercies, is often opened before me as a pearl to seek after."[ ] that even the pious egotism and the laughable vagaries of transcendentalism had their prototype in the private meditations of the new england calvinists, is well known to such as have studied old diaries of the massachusetts ministers. thus, a minister of malden (a successor of the awful michael wigglesworth, whose alleged poem, "the day of doom," as cotton mather thought, might perhaps "find our children till the day itself arrives"), in his diary for , thus enters his trying experiences with a "one-horse shay," whose short life may claim comparison with that of the hundred-year master-piece of dr. holmes's deacon:-- "_january ._ bought a shay for £ _s._ the lord grant it may be a comfort and blessing to my family. "_march, ._ had a safe and comfortable journey to york. "_april ._ shay overturned, with my wife and i in it, yet neither of us much hurt. blessed be our gracious preserver! part of the shay, as it lay upon one side, went over my wife, and yet she was scarcely anything hurt. how wonderful the preservation! "_may ._ went to the beach with three of the children. the beast being frighted, when we were all out of the shay, overturned and broke it. i desire (i hope i desire it) that the lord would teach me suitably to repent this providence, to make suitable remarks on it, and to be suitably affected with it. have i done well to get me a shay? have i not been proud or too fond of this convenience? do i exercise the faith in the divine care and protection which i ought to do? should i not be more in my study, and less fond of diversion? do i not withhold more than is meet from pious and charitable uses? "_may ._ shay brought home; mending cost shillings. favored in this beyond expectation. "_may ._ my wife and i rode to rumney marsh. the beast frighted several times." at last this divine comedy ends with the pathetic conclusive line,-- "_june ._ disposed of my shay to the rev. mr. white." i will not pause to dwell on the laughable episodes and queer characteristic features of the transcendental period, though such it had in abundance. they often served to correct the soberer absurdity with which our whole country was slipping unconsciously down the easy incline of national ruin and dishonor,--from which only a bloody civil war could at last save us. thoreau saw this clearly, and his political utterances, paradoxical as they seemed in the two decades from to , now read like the words of a prophet. but there are some points in the american renaissance which may here be touched on, so much light do they throw on the times. it was a period of strange faiths and singular apocalypses--that of charles fourier being one. in february, , mr. emerson, writing to henry thoreau from new york, where he was then lecturing, said:-- "mr. brisbane has just given me a faithful hour and a half of what he calls his principles, and he shames truer men by his fidelity and zeal; and already begins to hear the reverberations of his single voice from most of the states of the union. he thinks himself sure of w. h. channing here, as a good fourierist. i laugh incredulous whilst he recites (for it seems always as if he was repeating paragraphs out of his master's book) descriptions of the self-augmenting potency of the solar system, which is destined to contain one hundred and thirty-two bodies, i believe,--and his urgent inculcation of our _stellar duties_. but it has its kernel of sound truth, and its insanity is so wide of the new york insanities that it is virtue and honor." this was written a few months before thoreau himself went to new york, and it was while there that he received from his friends in concord and in harvard, the wondrous account of mr. alcott's paradise regained at fruitlands; where in due time thoreau made his visit and inspected that garden of eden on the coldspring brook. if mr. brisbane had his "stellar duties" and inculcated them in others, the brook farmers of - had their planetary mission also; namely, to cultivate the face of the planet they inhabited, and to do it with their own hands, as adam and noah did. of the brook farm enterprise much has been written, and much more will be; but concerning the more individual dream of thoreau's friends at "fruitlands," less is known; and i may quote a few pages concerning it from thoreau's correspondence. while thoreau was at staten island in , mr. emerson wrote to him often, giving the news of concord as a transcendental capital. in may of that year we have this intelligence:-- "ellery channing is well settled in his house, and works very steadily thus far, and our intercourse is very agreeable to me. young ball (b. w.) has been to see me, and is a prodigious reader and a youth of great promise,--born, too, in the good town. mr. hawthorne is well, and mr. alcott and mr. lane are revolving a purchase in harvard of ninety acres." this was "fruitlands," described in the "dial" for , and which charles lane himself describes in a letter soon to be cited. in june, , mr. emerson again sends tidings from concord, where the fitchburg railroad was then building:-- "the town is full of irish, and the woods of engineers, with theodolite and red flag, singing out their feet and inches to each other from station to station. near mr. alcott's (the hosmer cottage) the road is already begun. from mr. a. and mr. lane at harvard we have yet heard nothing. they went away in good spirits, having sent 'wood abram' and larned, and william lane before them with horse and plow, a few days in advance, to begin the spring work. mr. lane paid me a long visit, in which he was more than i had ever known him gentle and open; and it was impossible not to sympathize with and honor projects that so often seem without feet or hands. they have near a hundred acres of land which they do not want, and no house, which they want first of all. but they account this an advantage, as it gives them the occasion they so much desire,--of building after their own idea. in the event of their attracting to their company a carpenter or two, which is not impossible, it would be a great pleasure to see their building,--which could hardly fail to be new and beautiful. they have fifteen acres of woodland, with good timber." then, passing in a moment from "fruitlands" to concord woods, thoreau's friend writes:-- "ellery channing is excellent company, and we walk in all directions. he remembers you with great faith and hope, thinks you ought not to see concord again these ten years; that you ought to grind up fifty concords in your mill; and much other opinion and counsel he holds in store on this topic. hawthorne walked with me yesterday afternoon, and not until after our return did i read his 'celestial railroad,' which has a serene strength we cannot afford not to praise, in this low life. i have letters from miss fuller at niagara. she found it sadly cold and rainy at the falls." not so with mr. alcott and mr. lane in the first flush of their hopes at fruitlands. on the th of june,--the date of the letter just quoted being june ,--mr. lane writes to thoreau:-- "dear friend,--the receipt of two acceptable numbers of the 'pathfinder' reminds me that i am not altogether forgotten by one who, if not in the busy world, is at least much nearer to it externally than i am. busy indeed we all are, since our removal here; but so recluse is our position, that with the world at large we have scarcely any connection. you may possibly have heard that, after all our efforts during the spring had failed to place us in connection with the earth, and mr. alcott's journey to oriskany and vermont had turned out a blank,--one afternoon in the latter part of may, providence sent to us the legal owner of a slice of the planet in this township (harvard), with whom we have been enabled to conclude for the concession of his rights. it is very remotely placed, nearly three miles beyond the village, without a road, surrounded by a beautiful green landscape of fields and woods, with the distance filled up by some of the loftiest mountains in the state. the views are, indeed, most poetic and inspiring. you have no doubt seen the neighborhood; but from these very fields, where you may at once be at home and out, there is enough to love and revel in for sympathetic souls like yours. on the estate are about fourteen acres of wood, part of it extremely pleasant as a retreat, a very sylvan realization, which only wants a thoreau's mind to elevate it to classic beauty. "i have some imagination that you are not so happy and so well housed in your present position as you would be here amongst us; although at present there is much hard manual labor,--so much that, as you perceive, my usual handwriting is very greatly suspended. we have only two associates in addition to our own families; our house accommodations are poor and scanty; but the greatest want is of good female aid. far too much labor devolves on mrs. alcott. if you should light on any such assistance, it would be charitable to give it a direction this way. we may, perhaps, be rather particular about the quality; but the conditions will pretty well determine the acceptability of the parties without a direct adjudication on our part. for though to me our mode of life is luxurious in the highest degree, yet generally it seems to be thought that the setting aside of all impure diet, dirty habits, idle thoughts, and selfish feelings, is a course of self-denial, scarcely to be encountered or even thought of in such an alluring world as this in which we dwell. "besides the busy occupations of each succeeding day, we form, in this ample theatre of hope, many forthcoming scenes. the nearer little copse is designed as the site of the cottages. fountains can be made to descend from their granite sources on the hill-slope to every apartment if required. gardens are to displace the warm grazing glades on the south, and numerous human beings, instead of cattle, shall here enjoy existence. the farther wood offers to the naturalist and the poet an exhaustless haunt; and a short cleaning of the brook would connect our boat with the nashua. such are the designs which mr. alcott and i have just sketched, as, resting from planting, we walked round this reserve. "in your intercourse with the dwellers in the great city, have you alighted on mr. edward palmer, who studies with dr. beach, the herbalist? he will, i think, from his previous nature-love, and his affirmations to mr. alcott, be animated on learning of this actual wooing and winning of nature's regards. we should be most happy to see him with us. having become so far actual, from the real, we might fairly enter into the typical, if he could help us in any way to types of the true metal. we have not passed away from home, to see or hear of the world's doings, but the report has reached us of mr. w. h. channing's fellowship with the phalansterians, and of his eloquent speeches in their behalf. their progress will be much aided by his accession. to both these worthy men be pleased to suggest our humanest sentiments. while they stand amongst men, it is well to find them acting out the truest possible at the moment. "just before we heard of this place, mr. alcott had projected a settlement at the cliffs on the concord river, cutting down wood and building a cottage; but so many more facilities were presented here that we quitted the old classic town for one which is to be not less renowned. as far as i could judge, our absence promised little pleasure to our old concord friends; but at signs of progress i presume they rejoiced with, dear friend, "yours faithfully, "charles lane." another palmer than the edward here mentioned became an inmate of "fruitlands," and, in course of time its owner; the abandoned paradise, which was held by mr. lane and mr. alcott for less than a year, is now the property of his son. mr. lane, after a time, returned to england and died there; mr. alcott to concord, where, in , he aided thoreau in building his hut by walden. mr. channing (the nephew and biographer of dr. channing) continued his connection with the "phalansterians" in new jersey until or later, for in that year fredrika bremer found him dwelling and preaching among them, at the "north american phalanstery," to which he had been invited from his unitarian parish in cincinnati, about the time that brook farm was made a community, and before mr. alcott's dream had taken earthly shape at "fruitlands." the account given by miss bremer of the terms upon which mr. channing was thus invited to new jersey, show what was the spirit of transcendentalism then, on its social side. they said to him,-- "come to us,--be our friend and spiritual shepherd, but in perfect freedom. follow your own inspiration,--preach, talk to us, how and when it appears best to you. we undertake to provide for your pecuniary wants; live free from anxiety, how, and where you will; but teach us how we should live and work; our homes and our hearts are open to you." it was upon such terms as this, honorable alike to those who gave and those who received, that much of the intellectual and spiritual work of the transcendental revival was done. there was another and an unsocial side to the movement also, which mr. emerson early described in these words, that apply to thoreau and to alcott at one period:-- "it is a sign of our times, conspicuous to the coarsest observer, that many intelligent and religious persons withdraw themselves from the common labors and competitions of the market and the caucus, and betake themselves to a solitary and critical way of living, from which no solid fruit has yet appeared to justify their separation. they hold themselves aloof; they feel the disproportion between themselves and the work offered them, and they prefer to ramble in the country and perish of ennui, to the degradation of such charities and such ambitions as the city can propose to them. they are striking work and crying out for somewhat worthy to do. they are lonely; the spirit of their writing and conversation is lonely; they repel influences; they shun general society; they incline to shut themselves in their chamber in the house; to live in the country rather than in the town; and to find their tasks and amusements in solitude. they are not good citizens, not good members of society; unwillingly they bear their part of the public and private burdens; they do not willingly share in the public charities, in the public religious rites, in the enterprise of education, of missions, foreign or domestic, in the abolition of the slave trade, or in the temperance society. they do not even like to vote. the philanthropists inquire whether transcendentalism does not mean sloth; they had as lief hear that their friend is dead, as that he is a transcendentalist; for then is he paralyzed, and can do nothing for humanity." it was this phase of transcendentalism that gave most anxiety to thoreau's good old pastor, dr. ripley, who early foresaw what immediate fruit might be expected from this fair tree of mysticism,--this "burning bush" which had started up, all at once, in the very garden of his parsonage. i know few epistles more pathetic in their humility and concern for the future, than one which dr. ripley addressed to dr. channing in february, , after hearing and meditating on the utterances of alcott, emerson, thoreau, george ripley, and the other "apostles of the newness," who disturbed with their oracles the quiet air of his parish. he wrote:-- "denied, as i am, the privilege of going from home, of visiting and conversing with enlightened friends, and of reading even; broken down with the infirmities of age, and subject to fits that deprive me of reason and the use of my limbs, i feel it a duty to be patient and submissive to the will of god, who is too wise to err, and too good to injure. some reason is left,--my mental powers, though weak, are yet awake, and i long to be doing something for good. the contrast between paper and ink is so strong, that i can write better than do anything else. in this way i take the liberty to express to you a few thoughts, which you will receive as well-meant and sincere.... "we may certainly assume that whatever is unreasonable, self-contradictory, and destitute of common sense, is erroneous. should we not be likely to find the truth, in all moral subjects, were we to make more use of plain reason and common sense? i know that our modern speculators, transcendentalists, or, as they prefer to be called, realists, presume to follow reason in her purest dictates, her sublime and unfrequented regions. they presume, by her power, not only to discover what is truth, but to judge of revealed truth. but is not their whole process marred by leaving out common sense, by which mankind are generally governed? that superiority which places a man above the power of doing good to his fellow-men seems to me not very desirable. i honor most the man who transcends others in capacity and disposition to do good, and whose daily practice corresponds with his profession. here i speak of professed christians. i would not treat with disrespect and severe censure men who advance sentiments which i may neither approve nor understand, provided their authors be men of learning, piety, and holy lives. the speculations and novel opinions of _such_ men rarely prove injurious. nevertheless, i would that their mental endowments might find a better method of doing good,--a more simple and intelligible manner of informing and reforming their fellow-men.... "the hope of the gospel is my hope, my consolation, support and rejoicing. such is my state of health that death is constantly before me; no minute would it be unexpected. i am waiting in faith and hope, but humble and penitent for my imperfections and faults. the prayer of the publican, 'god be merciful to me a sinner!' is never forgotten. i have hoped to see and converse with you, but now despair. if you shall think i use too much freedom with you, charge it to the respect and esteem which are cherished for your character by your affectionate friend and brother, "e. ripley. "concord, _february , _." at this time dr. ripley was almost eighty-eight, and he lived two years longer, to mourn yet more pathetically over the change of times and manners. "it was fit," said emerson, "that in the fall of laws, this loyal man should die." but the young men who succeeded him were no less loyal to the unwritten laws, and from their philosophy, which to the old theologian seemed so misty and unreal, there flowered forth, in due season, the most active and world-wide philanthropies. twenty years after this pastoral epistle, there came to concord another christian of the antique type, more puritan and hebraic than dr. ripley himself, yet a transcendentalist, too,--and john brown found no lack of practical good-will in thoreau, alcott, emerson, and the other transcendentalists. the years had "come full circle," the sibyl had burnt her last prophetic book, and the new æon was about to open with the downfall of slavery. chapter vi. early essays in authorship. it has been a common delusion, not yet quite faded away, that the chief transcendentalists were but echoes of each other,--that emerson imitated carlyle, thoreau and alcott imitated emerson, and so on to the end of the chapter. no doubt that the atmosphere of each of these men affected the others, nor that they shared a common impulse communicated by what matthew arnold likes to call the _zeitgeist_,--the ever-felt spirit of the time. in the most admirable of the group, who is called by preëminence "the sage of concord,"--the poet emerson,--there has been an out-breathing inspiration as profound as that of the _zeitgeist_ himself; so that even hawthorne, the least susceptible of men, found himself affected as he says, "after living for three years within the subtle influence of an intellect like emerson's." but, in fact, thoreau brought to his intellectual tasks an originality as marked as emerson's, if not so brilliant and star-like--a patience far greater than his, and a proud independence that makes him the most solitary of modern thinkers. i have been struck by these qualities in reading his yet unknown first essays in authorship, the juvenile papers he wrote while in college, from the age of seventeen to that of twenty, before emerson had published anything except his first little volume, "nature," and while thoreau, like other young men, was reading johnson and goldsmith, addison and the earlier english classics, from milton backward to chaucer. let me therefore quote from these papers, carefully preserved by him, with their dates, and sometimes with the marks of the rhetorical professor on their margins. along with these may be cited some of his earlier verses, in which a sentiment more purely human and almost amatory appears, than in the later and colder, if higher flights of his song. the earliest writings of thoreau, placed in my hands by his literary executor, mr. harrison blake of worcester, are the first of his cambridge essays, technically called "themes" and "forensics." these began several years before his daily journals were kept, namely, in ; and it is curious that one of them, dated january , , but written in , recommends "keeping a private journal or record of our thoughts, feelings, studies, and daily experience." this is precisely what thoreau did from till his death; and it may be interesting to see what reasons the boy of seventeen advanced for the practice. he says:-- "as those pieces which the painter sketches for his own amusement, in his leisure hours, are often superior to his most elaborate productions, so it is that ideas often suggest themselves to us spontaneously, as it were, far surpassing in beauty those which arise in the mind upon applying ourselves to any particular subject. hence, could a machine be invented which would instantaneously arrange upon paper each idea as it occurs to us, without any exertion on our part, how extremely useful would it be considered! the relation between this and the practice of keeping a journal is obvious.... if each one would employ a certain portion of each day in looking back upon the time which has passed, and in writing down his thoughts and feelings, in reckoning up his daily gains, that he may be able to detect whatever false coins may have crept into his coffers, and, as it were, in settling accounts with his mind,--not only would his daily experience be greatly increased, since his feelings and ideas would thus be more clearly defined,--but he would be ready to turn over a new leaf (having carefully perused the preceding one) and would not continue to glance carelessly over the same page, without being able to distinguish it from a new one." this is ingenious, quaint, and mercantile, bespeaking the hereditary bent of his family to trade and orderly accounts; but what follows in the same essay is more to the purpose, as striking the key-note of thoreau's whole after-life. he adds:-- "most of us are apt to neglect the study of our own characters, thoughts, and feelings, and, for the purpose of forming our own minds, look to others, _who should merely be considered as different editions of the same great work_. to be sure, it would be well for us to examine the various copies, that we might detect any errors; yet it would be foolish for one _to borrow a work which he possessed himself, but had not perused_." the earliest record of the day's observations which i find is dated a few months later than this (april , ), when henry thoreau was not quite eighteen, and relates to the beauties of nature. the first passage describes a sunday prospect from the garret window of his father's house, (afterwards the residence of mr. william munroe, the benefactor of the concord library), on the main street of the village. he writes:-- "'twas always my delight to monopolize the little gothic window which overlooked the kitchen-garden, particularly of a sabbath afternoon; when all around was quiet, and nature herself was taking her afternoon nap,--when the last peal of the bell in the neighboring steeple, 'swinging slow with sullen roar,' had 'left the vale to _solitude_ and _me_,' and the very air scarcely dared breathe, lest it should disturb the universal calm. then did i use, with eyes upturned, to gaze upon the clouds, and, allowing my imagination to wander, search for flaws in their rich drapery, that i might get a peep at that world beyond, which they seem intended to veil from our view. now is my attention engaged by a truant hawk, as, like a messenger from those ethereal regions, he issues from the bosom of a cloud, and, at first a mere speck in the distance, comes circling onward, exploring every seeming creek, and rounding every jutting precipice. and now, his mission ended, what can be more majestic than his stately flight, as he wheels around some towering pine, enveloped in a cloud of smaller birds that have united to expel him from their premises." the second passage, under the same date, seems to describe earlier and repeated visits, made by his elder brother john and himself, to a hill which was always a favorite resort of thoreau's, fairhaven cliffs, overlooking the river-bay, known as "fairhaven," a mile or two up the river from concord village toward sudbury:-- "in the freshness of the dawn my brother and i were ever ready to enjoy a stroll to a certain cliff, distant a mile or more, where we were wont to climb to the highest peak, and seating ourselves on some rocky platform, catch the first ray of the morning sun, as it gleamed upon the smooth, still river, wandering in sullen silence far below. the approach to the precipice is by no means calculated to prepare one for the glorious _dénouement_ at hand. after following for some time a delightful path that winds through the woods, occasionally crossing a rippling brook, and not forgetting to visit a sylvan dell, whose solitude is made audible by the unwearied tinkling of a crystal spring,--you suddenly emerge from the trees upon a flat and mossy rock, which forms the summit of a beetling crag. the feelings which come over one on first beholding this freak of nature are indescribable. the giddy height, the iron-bound rock, the boundless horizon open around, and the beautiful river at your feet, with its green and sloping banks, fringed with trees and shrubs of every description, are calculated to excite in the beholder emotions of no common occurrence,--to inspire him with noble and sublime emotions. the eye wanders over the broad and seemingly compact surface of the slumbering forest on the opposite side of the stream, and catches an occasional glimpse of a little farm-house, 'resting in a green hollow, and lapped in the bosom of plenty;' while a gentle swell of the river, a rustic, and fortunately rather old-looking bridge on the right, with the cloudlike wachusett in the distance, give a finish and beauty to the landscape, that is rarely to be met with even in our own fair land. this interesting spot, if we may believe tradition, was the favorite haunt of the red man, before the axe of his pale-faced visitor had laid low its loftier honors, or his 'strong water' had wasted the energies of the race." here we have a touch of fine writing, natural in a boy who had read irving and goldsmith, and exaggerating a little the dimensions of the rocks and rills of which he wrote. but how smooth the flow of description, how well-placed the words, how sure and keen the eye of the young observer! to this mount of vision did thoreau and his friends constantly resort in after years, and it was on the plateau beneath that mr. alcott, in , was about to cut down the woods and build his paradise, when a less inviting fate, as he thought, beckoned his english friend lane and himself to "fruitlands," in the distant town of harvard. at some time after this, perhaps while thoreau was encamped at walden with his books and his flute, mr. emerson sent him the following note, which gives us now a glimpse into that arcadia:-- "will you not come up to the cliff this p. m., at any hour convenient to you, where our ladies will be greatly gratified to see you? and the more, they say, if you will bring your flute for the echo's sake, though now the wind blows. "r. w. e. "monday, o'clock p. m." it does not appear that thoreau wrote verses at this time, though he was a great reader of the best poetry,--of milton very early, and with constant admiration and quotation. thus, in a college essay of , on "simplicity of style," he has this passage concerning the bible and milton:-- "the most sublime and noblest precepts may be conveyed in a plain and simple strain. the scriptures afford abundant proof of this. what images can be more natural, what sentiments of greater weight and at the same time more noble and exalted than those with which they abound? they possess no local or relative ornament which may be lost in a translation; clothed in whatever dress, they still retain their peculiar beauties. here is simplicity itself. every one allows this, every one admires it, yet how few attain to it! the union of wisdom and simplicity is plainly hinted at in the following lines of milton:-- "suspicion sleeps at wisdom's gate, and to _simplicity_ resigns her charge.'" early in thoreau wrote an elaborate paper, though of no great length, on milton's "l'allegro" and "il penseroso," with many quotations, in course of which he said:-- "these poems place milton in an entirely new and extremely pleasing light to the reader, who was previously familiar with him as the author of 'paradise lost' alone. if before he venerated, he may now admire and love him. the immortal milton seems for a space to have put on mortality,--to have snatched a moment from the weightier cares of heaven and hell, to wander for a while among the sons of men.... i have dwelt upon the poet's beauties and not so much as glanced at his blemishes. a pleasing image, or a fine sentiment loses none of its charms, though burton, or beaumont and fletcher, or marlowe, or sir walter raleigh, may have written something very similar,--or even in another connection, may have used the identical word, whose aptness we so much admire. that always appeared to me a contemptible kind of criticism which, deliberately and in cold blood, can dissect the sublimest passage, and take pleasure in the detection of slight verbal incongruities; when applied to milton, it is little better than sacrilege." the moral view taken by the young collegian in these essays is quite as interesting as the literary opinions, or the ease of his style. in september, , discussing punishments, he says:-- "certainty is more effectual than severity of punishment. no man will deliberately cut his own fingers. some have asked, 'cannot reward be substituted for punishment? is hope a less powerful incentive to action than fear? when a political pharmacopoeia has the command of both ingredients, wherefore employ the bitter instead of the sweet?' this reasoning is absurd. does a man deserve to be rewarded for refraining from murder? is the greatest virtue merely negative? or does it rather consist in the performance of a thousand every-day duties, hidden from the eye of the world?" in an essay on the effect of story-telling, written in , he says:-- "the story of the world never ceases to interest. the child enchanted by the melodies of mother goose, the scholar pondering 'the tale of troy divine,' and the historian breathing the atmosphere of past ages,--all manifest the same passion, are alike the creatures of curiosity. the same passion for the novel (somewhat modified, to be sure), that is manifested in our early days, leads us, in after-life, when the sprightliness and credulity of youth have given way to the reserve and skepticism of manhood, to the more serious, though scarcely less wonderful annals of the world. the love of stories and of story-telling cherishes a purity of heart, a frankness and candor of disposition, a respect for what is generous and elevated, a contempt for what is mean and dishonorable, and tends to multiply merry companions and never-failing friends." in march, , in an essay on the source of our feeling of the sublime, thoreau says:-- "the emotion excited by the sublime is the most unearthly and god-like we mortals experience. it depends for the peculiar strength with which it takes hold on and occupies the mind, upon a principle which lies at the foundation of that worship which we pay to the creator himself. and is fear the foundation of that worship? is fear the ruling principle of our religion? is it not rather the mother of superstition? yes, that principle which prompts us to pay an involuntary homage to the infinite, the incomprehensible, the sublime, forms the very basis of our religion. it is a principle implanted in us by our maker, a part of our very selves; we cannot eradicate it, we cannot resist it; fear may be overcome, death may be despised; but the infinite, the sublime seize upon the soul and disarm it. we may overlook them, or rather fall short of them; we may pass them by, but, so sure as we meet them face to face, we yield." speaking of national characteristics, he says:-- "it is not a little curious to observe how man, the boasted lord of creation, is the slave of a name, a mere sound. how much mischief have those magical words, north, south, east, and west caused! could we rest satisfied with one mighty, all-embracing west, leaving the other three cardinal points to the old world, methinks we should not have cause for so much apprehension about the preservation of the union." (this was written in february, .) before he had reached the age of nineteen he thus declared his independence of foreign opinion, while asserting its general sway over american literature, in :-- "we are, as it were, but colonies. true, we have declared our independence, and gained our liberty, but we have dissolved only the political bands which connected us with great britain; though we have rejected her tea, she still supplies us with food for the mind. the aspirant to fame must breathe the atmosphere of foreign parts, and learn to talk about things which the homebred student never dreamed of, if he would have his talents appreciated or his opinion regarded by his countrymen. ours are authors of the day, they bid fair to outlive their works; they are too fashionable to write for posterity. true, there are some amongst us, who can contemplate the babbling brook, without, in imagination, polluting its waters with a mill-wheel; but even they are prone to sing of skylarks and nightingales perched on hedges, to the neglect of the homely robin-redbreast and the straggling rail-fences of their own native land." so early did he take this position, from which he never varied. in may, , we find another note of his opening life, in an essay on paley's "common reasons." he says:-- "man does not wantonly rend the meanest tie that binds him to his fellows; he would not stand aloof, even in his prejudices, did not the stern demands of truth require it. he is ready enough to float with the tide, and when he does stem the current of popular opinion, sincerity, at least, must nerve his arm. he has not only the burden of proof, but that of reproof to support. we may call him a fanatic, an enthusiast; but these are titles of honor; they signify the devotion and entire surrendering of himself to his cause. so far as my experience goes, man _never_ seriously maintained an objectionable principle, doctrine, or theory; error _never_ had a sincere defender; her disciples were _never_ enthusiasts. this is strong language, i confess, but i do not rashly make use of it. we are told that 'to err is human,' but i would rather call it inhuman, if i may use the word in this sense. i speak not of those errors that have to do with facts and occurrences, but rather, errors of judgment." here we have that bold generalization and that calm love of paradox which mark his later style. the lofty imagination was always his, too, as where this youth of nineteen says in the same essay:-- "mystery is yet afar off,--it is but a cloud in the distance, whose shadow, as it flits across the landscape, gives a pleasing variety to the scene. but as the perfect day approaches, its morning light discovers the dark and straggling clouds, which at first skirted the horizon, assembling as at a signal, and as they expand and multiply, rolling slowly onward to the zenith, till, at last, the whole heavens, if we except a faint glimmering in the east, are overshadowed." what a confident and flowing movement of thought is here! like the prose of milton or jeremy taylor, but with a more restrained energy. "duty," writes the young moralist in another essay of , "is one and invariable; it requires no impossibilities, nor can it ever be disregarded with impunity; so far as it exists, it is binding; and, if all duties are binding, so as on no account to be neglected, how can one bind stronger than another?" "none but the highest minds can attain to moral excellence. with by far the greater part of mankind religion is a habit; or rather habit is religion. however paradoxical it may seem, it appears to me that to reject _religion_ is the first step towards moral excellence; at least no man ever attained to the highest degree of the latter by any other road. could infidels live double the number of years allotted to other mortals, they would become patterns of excellence. so, too, of all true poets,--they would neglect the beautiful for the true." i suspect that thoreau's first poems date from the year - , since the "big red journal," in which they were copied, was begun in october, . the verses entitled, "to the maiden in the east," were by no means among the first, which date from or earlier; but near these in time was that poem called "sympathy," which was the first of his writings to appear in mr. emerson's "dial." these last were addressed, we are told, to ellen sewall, with whom, the legend says, both henry and john thoreau were in love. few of these poems show any imitation of mr. emerson, whose own verses at that time were mostly unpublished, though he sometimes read them in private to his friends. but like most of thoreau's verses, these indicate a close familiarity with the elizabethan literature, and what directly followed it, in the time of the stuarts. the measure of "sympathy" was that of davenant's "gondibert," which thoreau, almost alone of his contemporaries, had read; the thought was above davenant, and ranged with raleigh and spenser. these verses will not soon be forgotten:-- "lately, alas! i knew a gentle boy, whose features all were cast in virtue's mould, as one she had designed for beauty's toy, but after manned him for her own stronghold. "say not that cæsar was victorious, with toil and strife who stormed the house of fame; in other sense this youth was glorious, himself a kingdom wheresoe'er he came. * * * * * "eternity may not the chance repeat, but i must tread my single way alone, in sad remembrance that we once did meet, and know that bliss irrevocably gone. "the spheres henceforth my elegy shall sing, for elegy has other subject none; each strain of music in my ears shall ring knell of departure from that other one. * * * * * "is't then too late the damage to repair? distance, forsooth, from my weak grasp hath reft the empty husk, and clutched the useless tare, but in my hands the wheat and kernel left. "if i but love that virtue which he is, though it be scented in the morning air, still shall we be dearest acquaintances, nor mortals know a sympathy more rare." the other poem seems to have been written later than the separation of which that one so loftily speaks; and it vibrates with a tenderer chord than sympathy. it begins,-- "low in the eastern sky is set thy glancing eye," and then it goes on with the picture of lover-like things,--the thrushes and the flowers, until, he says, "the trees a welcome waved, and lakes their margin laved, when thy free mind to my retreat did wind." then comes the persian dialect of high love:-- "it was a summer eve,-- the air did gently heave, while yet a low-hung cloud thy eastern skies did shroud; the lightning's silent gleam startling my drowsy dream, _seemed like the flash under thy dark eyelash_. * * * * * "i'll be thy mercury, thou, cytherea to me,-- _distinguished by thy face the earth shall learn my place_. as near beneath thy light will i outwear the night, with mingled ray leading the westward way." "let us," said hafiz, "break up the tiresome roof of heaven into new forms,"--and with as bold a flight did this young poet pass to his "stellar duties." then dropping to the concord meadow again, like the tuneful lark, he chose a less celestial path "of gentle slope and wide, as thou wert by my side; i'll walk with gentle pace, and choose the smoothest place, and careful dip the oar, and shun the winding shore, and gently steer my boat where water-lilies float, and cardinal flowers stand in their sylvan bowers." a frivolous question has sometimes been raised whether the young thoreau knew what love was, like the sicilian shepherd, who found him a native of the rocks, a lion's whelp. with his poet-nature, he early gathered this experience, and passed on; praising afterwards the lion's nature in the universal god:-- "implacable is love,-- foes may be bought or teased from their hostile intent,-- but he goes unappeased who is on kindness bent. "there's nothing in the world, i know, that can escape from love, for every depth it goes below, and every height above." the red journal of five hundred and ninety-six long pages, in which the early verses occur, was the first collection of thoreau's systematic diarizing. it ran on from october, , to june, , and was succeeded by another journal of three hundred and ninety-six pages, which was finished early in . he wrote his first lecture (on society) in march, , and read it before the concord lyceum in the freemasons' hall, april , . in the december following he wrote a memorable essay on "sound and silence," and in february, , wrote his "first printed paper of consequence," as he says, on "aulus persius flaccus." the best of the early verses seem to have been written in - . his contributions to the "dial," which he helped edit, were taken from his journals, and ran through nearly every number from july, , to april, , when that magazine ceased. for these papers he received nothing but the thanks of emerson and the praise of a few readers. miss elizabeth peabody, in february, , wrote to thoreau, that "the regular income of the 'dial' does not pay the cost of its printing and paper; yet there are readers enough to support it, if they would only subscribe; and they will subscribe, if they are convinced that only by doing so can they secure its continuance." they did not subscribe, and in the spring of it came to an end. in thoreau took a walk to wachusett, his nearest mountain, and the journal of this excursion was printed in the "boston miscellany" of . in it occurred the verses, written at least as early as , in which he addresses the mountains of his horizon, monadnoc, wachusett, and the peterborough hills of new hampshire. these verses were for some time in the hands of margaret fuller, for publication in the "dial," if she saw fit, but she returned them with the following characteristic letter,--the first addressed by her to thoreau:-- "[concord] _ th october, _. "i do not find the poem on the mountains improved by mere compression, though it might be by fusion and glow. its merits to me are, a noble recognition of nature, two or three manly thoughts, and, in one place, a plaintive music. the image of the ships does not please me originally. it illustrates the greater by the less, and affects me as when byron compares the light on jura to that of the dark eye of woman. i cannot define my position here, and a large class of readers would differ from me. as the poet goes on to-- "unhewn primeval timber, for knees so stiff, for masts so limber." he seems to chase an image, already rather forced, into conceits. "yet, now that i have some knowledge of the man, it seems there is no objection i could make to his lines (with the exception of such offenses against taste as the lines about the humors of the eye, as to which we are already agreed), which i would not make to himself. he is healthful, rare, of open eye, ready hand, and noble scope. he sets no limits to his life, nor to the invasions of nature; he is not willfully pragmatical, cautious, ascetic, or fantastical. but he is as yet a somewhat bare hill, which the warm gales of spring have not visited. thought lies too detached, truth is seen too much in detail; we can number and mark the substances imbedded in the rock. thus his verses are startling as much as stern; the thought does not excuse its conscious existence by letting us see its relation with life; there is a want of fluent music. yet what could a companion do at present, unless to tame the guardian of the alps too early? leave him at peace amid his native snows. he is friendly; he will find the generous office that shall educate him. it is not a soil for the citron and the rose, but for the whortleberry, the pine, or the heather. "the unfolding of affections, a wider and deeper human experience, the harmonizing influences of other natures, will mould the man and melt his verse. he will seek thought less and find knowledge the more. i can have no advice or criticism for a person so sincere; but, if i give my impression of him, i will say, 'he says too constantly of nature, she is mine.' she is not yours till you have been more hers. seek the lotus, and take a draught of rapture. say not so confidently, all places, all occasions are alike. this will never come true till you have found it false. "i do not know that i have more to say now; perhaps these words will say nothing to you. if intercourse should continue, perhaps a bridge may be made between two minds so widely apart; for i apprehended you in spirit, and you did not seem to mistake me so widely as most of your kind do. if you should find yourself inclined to write to me, as you thought you might, i dare say, many thoughts would be suggested to me; many have already, by seeing you from day to day. will you finish the poem in your own way, and send it for the 'dial'? leave out "and seem to milk the sky." the image is too low; mr. emerson thought so too. "farewell! may truth be irradiated by beauty! let me know whether you go to the lonely hut,[ ] and write to me about shakespeare, if you read him there. i have many thoughts about him, which i have never yet been led to express. "margaret f. "the penciled paper mr. e. put into my hands. i have taken the liberty to copy it. you expressed one day my own opinion,--that the moment such a crisis is passed, we may speak of it. there is no need of artificial delicacy, of secrecy; it keeps its own secrets; it cannot be made false. thus you will not be sorry that i have seen the paper. will you not send me some other records of the _good week_?" "faithful are the wounds of a friend." this searching criticism would not offend thoreau; nor yet the plainness with which the same tongue told the faults of a prose paper--perhaps "the service,"--which margaret rejected in this note:-- "[concord] _ st december ( )_. "i am to blame for so long detaining your manuscript. but my thoughts have been so engaged that i have not found a suitable hour to reread it as i wished, till last night. this second reading only confirms my impression from the first. the essay is rich in thoughts, and i should be _pained_ not to meet it again. but then, the thoughts seem to me so out of their natural order, that i cannot read it through without _pain_. i never once feel myself in a stream of thought, but seem to hear the grating of tools on the mosaic. it is true, as mr. emerson says, that essays not to be compared with this have found their way into the 'dial.' but then, these are more unassuming in their tone, and have an air of quiet good-breeding, which induces us to permit their presence. yours is so rugged that it ought to be commanding." these were the years of thoreau's apprenticeship in literature, and many were the tasks and mortifications he must endure before he became a master of the writer's art. chapter vii. friends and companions. "margaret fuller," says william henry channing, "was indeed the friend; this was her vocation." it was no less the vocation of thoreau, though in a more lofty, unvarying, and serene manner. "literally," says the friend who best knew him, "his views of friendship were high and noble. those who loved him never had the least reason to regret it. he made no useless professions, never asked one of those questions that destroy all relation; but he was on the spot at the time, and had so much of human life in his keeping to the last, that he could spare a breathing-place for a friend. he meant friendship, and meant nothing else, and stood by it without the slightest abatement; not veering as a weathercock with each shift of a friend's fortune, nor like those who bury their early friendships, in order to make room for fresh corpses." it is, therefore, impossible to sketch him by himself. he could have said, with ellery channing,-- "o band of friends, ye breathe within this space, and the rough finish of a humble man by your kind touches rises into art." his earliest companion was his brother john, "a flowing generous spirit," as one described him, for whom his younger brother never ceased to grieve. walking among the cohasset rocks and looking at the scores of shipwrecked men from the irish brig st. john, in , he said, "a man can attend but one funeral in his life, can behold but one corpse." with him it was the funeral of john thoreau in february, . they had made the voyage of the concord and merrimac together, in ; they had walked and labored together, and invented indian names for one another from boyhood. john was "sachem hopeful of hopewell,"--a sunny soul, always serene and loving. when publishing his first book, in , henry dedicated it to this brother, with the simple verse-- "where'er thou sail'st who sailed with me, though now thou climbest loftier mounts, and fairer rivers dost ascend, be thou my muse, my brother john." john thoreau's death was singular and painful; his brother could not speak of it without physical suffering, so that when he related it to his friend ricketson at new bedford, he turned pale and was forced to go to the door for air. this was the only time mr. ricketson ever saw him show deep emotion. his sister sophia once said:-- "henry rarely spoke of dear john; it pained him too much. he sent the following verses from staten island in may, , the year after john's death, in a letter to helen. you will see that they apply to himself:"-- "brother, where dost thou dwell? what sun shines for thee now? dost thou, indeed, fare well, as we wished here below? "what season didst thou find? 't was winter here. are not the fates more kind than they appear? "is thy brow clear again, as in thy youthful years? and was that ugly pain the summit of thy fears? "yet thou wast cheery still; they could not quench thy fire; thou didst abide their will, and then retire. "where chiefly shall i look to feel thy presence near? along the neighboring brook may i thy voice still hear? "dost thou still haunt the brink of yonder river's tide? and may i ever think that thou art by my side? "what bird wilt thou employ to bring me word of thee? for it would give them joy,-- 't would give them liberty, to serve their former lord with wing and minstrelsy. "a sadder strain mixed with their song, they've slowlier built their nests; since thou art gone their lively labor rests. "where is the finch, the thrush i used to hear? ah, they could well abide the dying year. "now they no more return, i hear them not; they have remained to mourn; or else forgot." before the death of his brother, thoreau had formed the friendship with ellery channing, that was in some degree to replace the daily intimacy he had enjoyed with john thoreau. this man of genius, and of the moods that sometimes make genius an unhappy boon, was a year younger than thoreau when he came, in , to dwell in concord with his bride, a younger sister of margaret fuller. they lived first in a cottage near mr. emerson's, thoreau being at that time an inmate of mr. emerson's household; afterwards, in , mr. channing removed to a hill-top some miles away, then to new york in - , then to europe for a few months, and finally to a house on the main street of the village, opposite the last residence of the thoreau family, where henry lived from till his death in . in the garden of mr. channing's house, which lay on the river, thoreau kept his boat, under a group of willows, and from that friendly harbor all his later voyages were made. at times they talked of occupying this house together. "i have an old house and a garden patch," said channing, "you have legs and arms, and we both need each other's companionship. these miserable cracks and crannies which have made the wall of life look thin and fungus-like, will be cemented by the sweet and solid mortar of friendship." they did in fact associate more closely than if they had lived in the same house. at the age of thirty-seven, when contemplating a removal from the neighborhood of his friend thoreau, this humorous man of letters thus described himself and his tastes to another friend:-- "i am a poet, or of a poetical temper or mood, with a very limited income both of brains and of moneys. this world is rather a sour world. but as i am, equally with you, an admirer of cowper, why should i not prove a sort of unnecessary addition to your neighborhood possibly? i may leave concord, and my aim would be to get a small place, in the vicinity of a large town, with some land, and, if possible, near to some _one_ person with whom i might in some measure fraternize. come, my neighbor! thou hast now a new occupation, the setting up of a poet and literary man,--one who loves old books, old garrets, old wines, old pipes, and (last not least) cowper. we might pass the winter in comparing _variorum_ editions of our favorite authors, and the summer in walking and horticulture. this is a grand scheme of life. all it requires is the house of which i spake. i think one in middle life feels averse to change, and especially to local change. the lares and penates love to establish themselves, and desire no moving. but the fatal hour may come, when, bidding one long, one last adieu to those weather-beaten penates, we sally forth with don quixote, once more to strike our lances into some new truth, or life, or man." this hour did come, and the removal was made for a few months or years, during which the two friends met at odd intervals, and in queer companionship. but the "sweet and solid mortar of friendship" was never broken, though the wall of life came to look like a ruin. when, in thoreau's last illness, channing, in deep grief, said "that a change had come over the dream of life, and that solitude began to peer out curiously from the dells and wood-roads," thoreau whispered, "with his foot on the step of the other world," says channing, "it is better some things should end." of their earlier friendship, and of channing's poetic gift, so admirable, yet so little appreciated by his contemporaries, this mention occurs in a letter written by thoreau in march, :-- "i was surprised to hear the other day that channing was in x. when he was here last (in december, i think), he said, like himself, in answer to my inquiry where he lived, 'that he did not know the name of the place;' so it has remained in a degree of obscurity to me. i am rejoiced to hear that you are getting on so bravely with him and his verses. he and i, as you know, have been old cronies,-- "'fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill, together both, ere the high lawns appeared under the opening eyelids of the morn, we drove afield, and both together heared,' etc. "'but o, the heavy change,' now he is gone. the channing you have seen and described is the real simon pure. you have seen him. many a good ramble may you have together! you will see in him still more of the same kind to attract and to puzzle you. how to serve him most effectually has long been a problem with his friends. perhaps it is left for you to solve it. i suspect that the most that you or any one can do for him is to appreciate his genius,--to buy and read, and cause others to buy and read his poems. that is the hand which he has put forth to the world,--take hold of that. review them if you can,--perhaps take the risk of publishing something more which he may write. your knowledge of cowper will help you to know channing. he will accept sympathy and aid, but he will not bear questioning, unless the aspects of the sky are particularly auspicious. he will ever be 'reserved and enigmatic,' and you must deal with him at arm's length. i have no secrets to tell you concerning him, and do not wish to call obvious excellences and defects by far-fetched names. nor need i suggest how witty and poetic he is,--and what an inexhaustible fund of good-fellowship you will find in him." in the record of his winter visitors at walden, thoreau had earlier made mention of channing, who then lived on ponkawtasset hill, two or three miles away from the hermitage. "he who came from farthest to my lodge," says thoreau, "through deepest snows and most dismal tempests, was a poet. a farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher may be daunted, but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love. who can predict his comings and goings? his business calls him out at all hours; even when doctors sleep. we made that small house ring with boisterous mirth, and resound with the murmur of much sober talk,--making amends then to walden vale for the long silences. at suitable intervals there were regular salutes of laughter, which might have been referred indifferently to the last uttered or the forthcoming jest." in his "week," as thoreau floats down the concord, past the old manse, he commemorates first hawthorne and then channing, saying of the latter,-- "on ponkawtasset, since, with such delay, down this still stream we took our meadowy way, a poet wise hath settled whose fine ray doth faintly shine on concord's twilight day. like those first stars, whose silver beams on high, shining more brightly as the day goes by, most travelers cannot at first descry, but eyes that wont to range the evening sky." these were true and deserved compliments, but they availed little (no more than did the praises of emerson in the "dial," and of hawthorne in his "mosses") to make channing known to the general reader. some years after thoreau's death, when writing to another friend, this neglected poet said:-- "is there no way of disabusing s. of the liking he has for the verses i used to write? you probably know he is my only patron, but that is no reason he should be led astray. _there is no other test_ of the value of poetry, but its popularity. my verses have never secured a single reader but s. he really believes, i think, in those so-called verses; but they are not good,--they are wholly unknown and unread, and always will be. mediocre poetry is worse than nothing,--and mine is not even mediocre. i have presented s. with the last set of those little books there is, to have them bound, if he will. he can keep them as a literary _curio_, and in his old age amuse himself with thinking, 'how could ever i have liked these?'" yet this self-disparaging poet was he who wrote,-- "if my bark sinks, 't is to another sea,"-- and who cried to his companions,-- "ye heavy-hearted mariners who sail this shore,-- ye patient, ye who labor, sitting at the sweeping oar, and see afar the flashing sea-gulls play on the free waters, and the glad bright day twine with his hand the spray,-- from out your dreariness, from your heart-weariness, i speak, for i am yours on these gray shores." it is he, also, who has best told, in prose and verse, what thoreau was in his character and his literary art. in dedicating to his friend henry, the poem called "near home," published in , channing thus addressed him:-- "modest and mild and kind, who never spurned the needing from thy door-- (door of thy heart, which is a palace-gate); temperate and faithful,--in whose word the world might trust, sure to repay; unvexed by care, unawed by fortune's nod, slave to no lord, nor coward to thy peers,--long shalt thou live! not in this feeble verse, this sleeping age,-- but in the roll of heaven, and at the bar of that high court where virtue is in place, there thou shalt fitly rule, and read the laws of that supremer state,--writ jove's behest, and even old saturn's chronicle; works ne'er hesiod saw,--types of all things, and portraitures of all--whose golden leaves, roll back the ages' doors, and summon up unsleeping truths, by which wheels on heaven's prime." in these majestic lines, suggestive of dante, of shakespeare, and of milton, yet fitting, by the force of imagination, to the simplicity and magnanimity that thoreau had displayed, one reads the secret of that character which made the concord recluse first declare to the world the true mission of john brown, whose friend he had been for a few years. of alcott and of hawthorne, of margaret fuller and horace greeley, he had been longer the friend; and in the year before he met brown he had stood face to face with walt whitman in brooklyn. mr. alcott's testimony to thoreau's worth and friendliness has been constant. "if i were to proffer my earnest prayer to the gods for the greatest of all human privileges," he said one day, after returning from an evening spent at walden with thoreau, "it should be for the gift of a severely candid friend. to most, the presence of such is painfully irksome; they are lovers of present reputation, and not of that exaltation of soul which friends and discourse were given to awaken and cherish in us. intercourse of this kind i have found possible with my friends emerson and thoreau; and the evenings passed in their society during these winter months have realized my conception of what friendship, when great and genuine, owes to and takes from its objects." not less emphatic was thoreau's praise of mr. alcott, after these long winter evenings with him in the hut:-- "one of the last of the philosophers," he writes in "walden,"--"connecticut gave him to the world,--he peddled first her wares, afterwards, as he declares, his brains. these he peddles still, prompting god and disgracing man, bearing for fruit his brain only, like the nut its kernel. i think he must be the man of the most faith of any alive. his words and attitude always suppose a better state of things than other men are acquainted with, and he will be the last man to be disappointed as the ages revolve. he has no venture in the present. but though comparatively disregarded now, laws unsuspected by most will take effect, and masters of families and rulers will come to him for advice. a true friend of man; almost the only friend of human progress. he is perhaps the sanest man and has the fewest crotchets of any i chance to know,--the same yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow. of yore we had sauntered and talked, and effectually put the world behind us; for he was pledged to no institution in it, freeborn, _ingenuus_. great looker! great expecter! to converse with whom was a new england night's entertainment. ah! such discourse we had, hermit and philosopher, and the old settler i have spoken of,--we three,--it expanded and racked my little house." nor did thoreau participate in such discourse at walden alone, but frequented mr. alcott's conversations at mr. emerson's house in concord, at hawthorne's in salem, at marston watson's in plymouth, at daniel ricketson's in new bedford, and once or twice in boston and new york. with mr. alcott and alice carey, thoreau visited horace greeley at chappaqua, in , and with mr. alcott alone he called on walt whitman in brooklyn the same year. between hawthorne and thoreau, ellery channing was perhaps the interpreter, for they had not very much in common, though friendly and mutually respectful. the boat in which thoreau made his voyage of , on the concord and merrimac, came afterwards into hawthorne's possession, and was the frequent vehicle for channing and hawthorne as they made those excursions which hawthorne has commemorated. channing also has commemorated those years when hawthorne spent the happiest hours of his life in the old manse, to which he had removed soon after his marriage in :-- "there in the old gray house, whose end we see half peeping through the golden willow's veil, whose graceful twigs make foliage through the year, my hawthorne dwelt, a scholar of rare worth, the gentlest man that kindly nature drew; new england's chaucer, hawthorne fitly lives. his tall, compacted figure, ably strung to urge the indian chase or guide the way, softly reclining 'neath the aged elm, like some still rock looked out upon the scene, as much a part of nature as itself." in july, , writing to his sister sophia, among the new hampshire mountains, thoreau said:-- "mr. hawthorne has come home. i went to meet him the other evening (at mr. emerson's), and found that he had not altered, except that he was looking pretty brown after his voyage. he is as simple and childlike as ever." this was upon the return of hawthorne from his long residence abroad, in england, portugal, and italy. thoreau died two years before hawthorne, and they are buried within a few feet of each other in the concord cemetery, their funerals having proceeded from the same parish church near by. of thoreau's relations with emerson, this is not the place to speak in full; it was, however, the most important, if not the most intimate, of all his friendships, and that out of which the others mainly grew. their close acquaintance began in . in the latter part of april, , thoreau became an inmate of mr. emerson's house, and remained there till, in the spring of , he went for a few months to be the tutor of mr. william emerson's sons at staten island. in , while teaching school in concord, thoreau seems to have been fully admitted into that circle of which emerson, alcott, and margaret fuller were the leaders. in may, , this circle met, as it then did frequently, at the house of mr. emerson, to converse on "the inspiration of the prophet and bard, the nature of poetry, and the causes of the sterility of poetic inspiration in our age and country." mr. alcott, in his diary, has preserved a record of this meeting, and some others of the same kind. it seems that on this occasion--thoreau being not quite twenty-three years old, mr. alcott forty-one, mr. emerson thirty-seven, and miss fuller thirty--all these were present, and also jones very, the salem poet, dr. f. h. hedge, dr. c. a. bartol, dr. caleb stetson, and robert bartlett of plymouth. bartlett and very were graduates of harvard a year before thoreau, and afterwards tutors there; indeed, all the company except alcott were cambridge scholars,--for margaret fuller, without entering college, had breathed in the learned air of cambridge, and gone beyond the students who were her companions. i find no earlier record of thoreau's participation in these meetings; but afterward he was often present. in may, , mr. alcott had held one of his conversations at the house of thoreau's mother, but no mention is made of henry taking part in it. at a conversation in concord in , one april evening, thoreau came in from his walden hermitage, and protested with some vehemence against mr. alcott's declaration that jesus "stood in a more tender and intimate nearness to the heart of mankind than any character in life or literature." thoreau thought he "asserted this claim for the fair hebrew in exaggeration"; yet he could say in the "week," "it is necessary not to be christian to appreciate the beauty and significance of the life of christ." this earliest of his volumes, like most of his writings, is a record of his friendships, and in it we find that high-toned, paradoxical essay on love and friendship, which has already been quoted. to read this literally, as channing says, "would be to accuse him of stupidity; he gossips there of a high, imaginary world." but its tone is no higher than was the habitual feeling of thoreau towards his friends, or that sentiment which he inspired in them. in mr. alcott's diary for march , , he writes, two years before the "week" was made public:-- "this evening i pass with thoreau at his hermitage on walden, and he reads me some passages from his manuscript volume, entitled 'a week on the concord and merrimac rivers.' the book is purely american, fragrant with the life of new england woods and streams, and could have been written nowhere else. especially am i touched by his sufficiency and soundness, his aboriginal vigor,--as if a man had once more come into nature who knew what nature meant him to do with her,--virgil, and white of selborne, and izaak walton, and yankee settler all in one. i came home at midnight, through the woody snow-paths, and slept with the pleasing dream that presently the press would give me two books to be proud of--emerson's 'poems,' and thoreau's 'week.'" this high anticipation of the young author's career was fully shared by emerson himself, who everywhere praised the genius of thoreau; and when in england in , listened readily to a proposition from dr. chapman the publisher, for a new magazine to be called "the atlantic," and printed at the same time in london and in boston, whose chief contributors in england should be froude, garth wilkinson, arthur hugh clough, and perhaps carlyle; and in new england, emerson, thoreau, alcott, the channings, theodore parker, and elliott cabot. the plan came to nothing, but it may have been some reminiscence of it which, nine years afterward, gave its name to that boston magazine, the "atlantic monthly." mr. emerson's letter was dated in london, april , , and said:-- "i find chapman very anxious to publish a journal common to old and new england, as was long ago proposed. froude and clough and other oxonians would gladly conspire. let the 'massachusetts quarterly' give place to this, and we should have two legs, and bestride the sea. here i know so many good-minded people that i am sure will gladly combine. but what do i, or does any friend of mine in america care for a journal? not enough, i fear, to secure an energetic work on that side. i have a letter from cabot lately and do write him to-day. 'tis certain the massachusetts 'quarterly review' will fail, unless henry thoreau, and alcott, and channing and newcome, the fourfold visages, fly to the rescue. i am sorry that alcott's editor, the dumont of our bentham, the baruch of our jeremiah, is so slow to be born." in , before mr. emerson went abroad, we find thoreau (whose own hut beside walden had been built and inhabited for a year) sketching a design for a lodge which mr. emerson then proposed to build on the opposite shore. it was to be a retreat for study and writing, at the summit of a ledge, with a commanding prospect over the level country, towards monadnoc and wachusett in the west and northwest. for this lookout mr. alcott added a story to thoreau's sketch; but the hermitage was never built, and the plan finally resulted in a rustic summer-house, erected by alcott with some aid from thoreau, in mr. emerson's garden, in - .[ ] humbler friends than poets and philosophers sometimes shared the companionship of these brethren in concord. in february, , mr. alcott, who was then a woodman, laboring on his hillside with his own axe, where afterwards hawthorne wandered and mused, thus notes in his diary an incident not unusual in the town:-- "our friend the fugitive, who has shared now a week's hospitalities with us (sawing and piling my wood), feels this new trust of freedom yet unsafe here in new england, and so has left us this morning for canada. we supplied him with the means of journeying, and bade him godspeed to a freer land. his stay with us has given image and a name to the dire entity of slavery." it was this slave, no doubt, who had lodged for a while in thoreau's walden hut. my own acquaintance with thoreau did not begin with our common hostility to slavery, which afterwards brought us most closely together, but sprang from the accident of my editing for a few weeks the "harvard magazine," a college monthly, in - , in which appeared a long review of "walden" and the "week." in acknowledgment of this review, which was laudatory and made many quotations from his two volumes, thoreau, whom i had never seen, called at my room in holworthy hall, cambridge, in january, , and left there in my absence, a copy of the "week" with a message implying it was for the writer of the magazine article. it so happened that i was in the college library when thoreau was calling on me, and when he came, directly after, to the library, some one present pointed him out to me as the author of "walden." i was then a senior in college, and soon to go on my winter vacation; in course of which i wrote to thoreau from my native town, as follows:-- "hampton falls, n. h., _jan'y_ th, ' . "my dear sir,--i have had it in mind to write you a letter ever since the day when you visited me, without my knowing it, at cambridge. i saw you afterward at the library, but refrained from introducing myself to you, in the hope that i should see you later in the day. but as i did not, will you allow me to seek you out, when next i come to concord? "the author of the criticism in the 'harvard magazine' is mr. morton of plymouth, a friend and pupil of your friend, marston watson, of that old town. accordingly i gave him the book which you left with me, judging that it belonged to him. he received it with delight, as a gift of value in itself, and the more valuable for the sake of the giver. "we who at cambridge look toward concord as a sort of mecca for our pilgrimages, are glad to see that your last book finds such favor with the public. it has made its way where your name has rarely been heard before, and the inquiry, 'who is mr. thoreau?' proves that the book has in part done its work. for my own part, i thank you for the new light it shows me the aspects of nature in, and for the marvelous beauty of your descriptions. at the same time, if any one should ask me what i think of your philosophy, i should be apt to answer that it is not worth a straw. whenever again you visit cambridge, be assured, sir, that it would give me much pleasure to see you at my room. there, or in concord, i hope soon to see you; if i may intrude so much on your time. "believe me always, yours very truly, "f. b. sanborn." this note, which i had entirely forgotten, and of which i trust my friend soon forgave the pertness, came to me recently among his papers; with one exception, it is the only letter that passed between us, i think, in an acquaintance of more than seven years. some six weeks after its date, i went to live in concord, and happened to take rooms in mr. channing's house, just across the way from thoreau's. i met him more than once in march, , but he did not call on my sister and me until the th of april, when i made the following brief note of his appearance:-- "to-night we had a call from mr. thoreau, who came at eight and stayed till ten. he talked about latin and greek--which he thought ought to be studied--and about other things. in his tones and gestures he seemed to me to imitate emerson, so that it was annoying to listen to him, though he said many good things. he looks like emerson, too,--coarser, but with something of that serenity and sagacity which e. has. thoreau looks eminently _sagacious_--like a sort of wise, wild beast. he dresses plainly, wears a beard in his throat, and has a brown complexion." a month or two later my diary expanded this sketch a little, with other particulars:-- "he is a little under size, with a huge emersonian nose, bluish gray eyes, brown hair, and a ruddy weather-beaten face, which reminds me of some shrewd and honest animal's--some retired philosophical woodchuck or magnanimous fox. he dresses very plainly, wears his collar turned over like mr. emerson" [we young collegians then wearing ours upright], "and often an old dress-coat, broad in the skirts, and by no means a fit. he walks about with a brisk, rustic air, and never seems tired." notwithstanding the slow admiration that these trivial comments indicated, our friendship grew apace, and for two years or more i dined with him almost daily, and often joined in his walks and river voyages, or swam with him in some of our numerous concord waters. in i introduced john brown to him, then a guest at my house; and in , the evening before brown's last birthday, we listened together to the old captain's last speech in the concord town hall. the events of that year and the next brought us closely together, and i found him the stanchest of friends. this chapter might easily be extended into a volume, so long was the list of his companions, and so intimate and perfect his relation with them, at least on his own side. "a truth-speaker he," said emerson at his funeral, "capable of the most deep and strict conversation; a physician to the wounds of any soul; a friend, knowing not only the secret of friendship, but almost worshipped by those few persons who resorted to him as their confessor and prophet, and knew the deep value of his mind and great heart. his soul was made for the noblest society; he had in a short life exhausted the capabilities of this world; wherever there is knowledge, wherever there is virtue, wherever there is beauty, he will find a home." chapter viii. the walden hermitage. it is by his two years' encampment on the shore of a small lake in the walden woods, a mile south of concord village, that thoreau is best known to the world; and the book which relates how he lived and what he saw there is still, as it always was, the most popular of his writings. like all his books, it contains much that might as well have been written on any other subject; but it also describes charmingly the scenes and events of his sylvan life,--his days and nights with nature. he spent two years and a half in this retreat, though often coming forth from it. the localities of concord which thoreau immortalized were chiefly those in the neighborhood of some lake or stream,--though it would be hard to find in that well-watered town, especially in springtime, any place which is not neighbor either to the nine-times circling river musketaquid, to the swifter assabet, "that like an arrowe clear through troy rennest aie downward to the sea,"-- to walden or white pond, to bateman's pond, to the mill brook, the sanguinetto, the nut-meadow, or the second division brook. all these waters and more are renowned again and again in thoreau's books. like icarus, the ancient high-flyer, he tried his fortune upon many a river, fiord, streamlet, and broad sea,-- "where still the shore his brave attempt resounds." he gave beauty and dignity to obscure places by his mention of them; and it is curious that the neighborhood of walden,--now the most romantic and poetical region of concord, associated in every mind with this tender lover of nature, and his worship of her,--was anciently a place of dark repute, the home of pariahs and lawless characters, such as fringed the sober garment of many a new england village in puritanic times. close by walden is brister's hill, where, in the early days of emancipation in massachusetts, the newly freed slaves of concord magnates took up their abode,-- "the wrathful kings on cairns apart," as ossian says. here dwelt cato ingraham, freedman of 'squire duncan ingraham, who, when yet a slave in his master's backyard, on the day of concord fight, was brought to a halt by the fierce major pitcairn, then something the worse for 'squire ingraham's wine, and ordered to "lay down his arms and disperse," as the rebels at lexington had been six hours earlier. here also abode zilpha, a black circe, who spun linen, and made the walden woods resound with her shrill singing:-- "dives inaccessos ubi solis filia lucos assiduo resonat cantu, tectisque superbis urit odoratam nocturna in lumina cedrum, arguto tenues percurrens pectine telas." but some paroled english prisoners in the war of , burnt down her proud abode, with its imprisoned cat and dog and hens, while zilpha was absent. down the road towards the village from cato's farm and zilpha's musical loom and wheel, lived brister freeman, who gave his name to the hill,--scipio brister, "a handy negro," once the slave of 'squire cummings, but long since emancipated, and in thoreau's boyhood set free again by death, and buried in an old lincoln graveyard, near the ancestor of president garfield, but still nearer the unmarked graves of british grenadiers, who fell in the retreat from concord. with this scipio africanus brister libertinus, in the edge of the walden woods, "dwelt fenda, his hospitable wife, who told fortunes, yet pleasantly--large, round, and black,--such a dusky orb as never rose on concord, before or since," says thoreau. such was the african colony on the south side of concord village among the woods, while on the northern edge of the village, along the great meadows, there dwelt another colony, headed by cæsar robbins, whose descendants still flit about the town. older than all was the illustrious guinea negro, john jack, once a slave on the farm which is now the glebe of the old manse, but who purchased his freedom about the time the old manse was built in - . he survives in his quaint epitaph, written by daniel bliss, the young tory brother of the first mistress of the manse (mrs. william emerson, grandmother of emerson, the poet):-- "_god wills us free, man wills us slaves, i will as god wills: god's will be done._ here lies the body of john jack, a native of africa, who died march, , aged about sixty years. though born in a land of slavery, he was born free; though he lived in a land of liberty, he lived a slave; till by his honest though stolen labors he acquired the source of slavery which gave him his freedom; though not long before death the grand tyrant gave him his final emancipation, and put him on a footing with kings. though a slave to vice, he practised those virtues without which kings are but slaves." this epitaph, and the anecdote already given concerning cæsar robbins, may illustrate the humanity and humor with which the freedmen of concord were regarded, while an adventure of scipio brister's, in his early days of freedom, may show the mixture of savage fun and contempt that also followed them, and which some of their conduct may have deserved. the village drover and butcher once had a ferocious bull to kill, and when he had succeeded with some difficulty in driving him into his slaughter-house, on the walden road, nobody was willing to go in and kill him. just then brister freeman, from his hill near walden, came along the road, and was slyly invited by the butcher to go into the slaughter-house for an axe,--being told that when he brought it he should have a job to do. the unsuspecting freedman opened the door and walked in; it was shut behind him, and he found the bull drawn up in line of battle before him. after some pursuit and retreat in the narrow arena, brister spied the axe he wanted, and began attacking his pursuer, giving him a blow here or there as he had opportunity. his employers outside watched the bull-fight through a hole in the building, and cheered on the matador with shouts and laughter. at length, by a fortunate stroke, the african conquered, the bull fell, and his slayer threw down the axe and rushed forth unhurt. but his tormentors declared "he was no longer the dim, sombre negro he went in, but literally white with terror, and what was once his wool straightened out and standing erect on his head." without waiting to be identified, or to receive pay for his work, brister, affrighted and wrathful, withdrew to the wooded hill and to the companionship of his fortune-telling fenda, who had not foreseen the hazard of her spouse. it was along the same road and down this hill, passing by the town "poor-farm" and poor-house,--the last retreat of these straggling soldiers of fortune,--that thoreau went toward the village jail from his hermitage, that day in , when the town constable carried him off from the shoemaker's to whose shop he had gone to get a cobbled shoe. his room-mate in jail for the single night he slept there, was introduced to him by the jailer, mr. staples (a real name), as "a first-rate fellow and a clever man," and on being asked by thoreau why he was in prison, replied, "why, they accuse me of burning a barn, but i never did it." as near as thoreau could make out, he had gone to bed in a barn when drunk, and smoked his pipe there. such were the former denizens of the walden woods--votaries of bacchus and apollo, and extremely liable to take fire upon small occasion,--like giordano bruno's sonneteer, who, addressing the arabian phenix, says,-- "_tu bruci 'n un, ed io in ogni loco, io da cupido, hai tu da febo il foco_." it seems by the letter of margaret fuller in (cited in chapter vi.), that thoreau had for years meditated a withdrawal to a solitary life. the retreat he then had in view was, doubtless, the hollowell farm, a place, as he says, "of complete retirement, being about two miles from the village, half a mile from the nearest neighbor, and separated from the highway by a broad field." the house stood apart from the road to nine-acre corner, fronting the musketaquid on a green hill-side, and was first seen by thoreau as a boy, in his earliest voyages up the river to fairhaven bay, "concealed behind a dense grove of red maples, through which i heard the house-dog bark." this place thoreau once bought, but released it to the owner, whose wife refused to sign the deed of sale. in his walden venture he was a squatter, using for his house-lot a woodland of mr. emerson's, who, for the sake of his walks and his wood-fire, had bought land on both sides of walden pond. how early thoreau formed his plan of retiring to a hut among these woods, i have not learned; but in a letter written to him march , , by his friend channing, a passage occurs concerning it; and it was in the latter part of the same month that thoreau borrowed mr. alcott's axe and went across the fields to cut the timber for his cabin. channing writes:-- "i see nothing for you in this earth but that field which i once christened 'briars;' go out upon that, build yourself a hut, and there begin the grand process of devouring yourself alive. i see no alternative, no other hope for you. eat yourself up; you will eat nobody else, nor anything else. concord is just as good a place as any other; there are, indeed, more people in the streets of that village than in the streets of this." [he was writing from the tribune office, in new york.] "this is a singularly muddy town; muddy, solitary, and silent. i saw teufelsdröckh a few days since; he said a few words to me about you. says he, 'that fellow thoreau might be something, if he would only take a journey through the everlasting no, thence for the north pole. by g--,' said the old clothes-bag, warming up, 'i should like to take that fellow out into the everlasting no, and explode him like a bombshell; he would make a loud report; it would be fun to see him pick himself up. he needs the blumine flower business; that would be his salvation. he is too dry, too composed, too chalky, too concrete. does that execrable compound of sawdust and stagnation l. still prose about nothing? and that nutmeg-grater of a z. yet shriek about nothing? does anybody still think of coming to concord to live? i mean new people? if they do, let them beware of you philosophers.'" of course, this imaginary teufelsdröckh, like carlyle's, was the satirical man in the writer himself, suggesting the humorous and contradictory side of things, and glancing at the coolness of thoreau, which his friends sometimes found provoking. in his own person channing adds:-- "i should be pleased to hear from kamchatka occasionally; my last advices from the polar bear are getting stale. in addition to this i find that my corresponding members at van diemen's land have wandered into limbo. i hear occasionally from the world; everything seems to be promising in that quarter; business is flourishing, and the people are in good spirits. i feel convinced that the earth has less claims to our regard than formerly; these mild winters deserve severe censure. but i am well aware that the earth will talk about the necessity of routine, taxes, etc. on the whole it is best not to complain without necessity." it is well to read this shrewd humor, uttered in the opposite sense from thoreau's paradoxical wit in his "walden," as an introduction or motto to that book. for thoreau has been falsely judged from the wit and the paradox of "walden," as if he were a hater of men, or foolishly desired all mankind to retire to the woods. as channing said, soon after his friend's death,-- "the fact that our author lived for a while alone in a shanty, near a pond, and named one of his books after the place where it stood, has led some to say he was a barbarian or a misanthrope. it was a writing-case; here in this wooden inkstand he wrote a good part of his famous 'walden,' and this solitary woodland pool was more to his muse than all oceans of the planet, by the force of imagination. some have fancied, because he moved to walden, he left his family. he bivouacked there and really lived at home, where he went every day." this last is not literally true, for he was sometimes secluded in his hut for days together; but he remained as social at walden as he had been while an inmate of mr. emerson's family in - , or again in - , after giving up his hermitage. he, in fact, as he says himself,-- "went to the woods because he wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if he could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when he came to die, discover that he had not lived." in another place he says he went to walden to "transact some private business," and this he did to good purpose. he edited there his "week," some portions of which had appeared in the "dial" from to , but which was not published as a volume until , although he had made many attempts to issue it earlier. it was at walden, also, that he wrote his essay on carlyle, which was first published in "graham's magazine," at philadelphia, in , through the good offices of horace greeley, of which we shall hear more in the next chapter. thoreau's hermit life was not, then, merely a protest against the luxury and the restraints of society, nor yet an austere discipline such as monks and saints have imposed upon themselves for their souls' good. "my purpose in going to walden was not to live cheaply, nor to live dearly there, but to transact some private business with the fewest obstacles." he lived a life of labor and study in his hut. emerson says, "as soon as he had exhausted the advantages of that solitude, he abandoned it." he had edited his first book there; had satisfied himself that he was fit to be an author, and had passed his first examinations; then he graduated from that gymnasium as another young student might from the medical college or the polytechnic school. "i left the woods for as good a reason as i went there." his abandoned hut was then taken by a scotch gardener, hugh whelan by name, who removed it some rods away, to the midst of thoreau's bean-field, and made it his cottage for a few years. then it was bought by a farmer, who put it on wheels and carried it three miles northward, toward the entry of the estabrook farm on the old carlisle road, where it stood till after thoreau's death,--a shelter for corn and beans, and a favorite haunt of squirrels and blue jays. the wood-cut representing the hermitage in the first edition of "walden," is from a sketch made by sophia thoreau, and is more exact than that given in page's "life of thoreau," but in neither picture are the trees accurately drawn. on the spot where thoreau lived at walden there is now a cairn of stones, yearly visited by hundreds, and growing in height as each friend of his muse adds a stone from the shore of the fair water he loved so well. "beat with thy paddle on the boat midway the lake,--the wood repeats the ordered blow; the echoing note is ended in thy ear; yet its retreats conceal time's possibilities; and in this man the nature lies of woods so green, and lakes so sheen, and hermitages edged between. and i may tell you that the man was good, never did his neighbor harm,-- sweet was it where he stood, sunny and warm; like the seat beneath a pine that winter suns have cleared away with their yellow tine,-- red-cushioned and tasseled with the day." the events and thoughts of thoreau's life at walden may be read in his book of that name. as a protest against society, that life was ineffectual,--as the communities at brook farm and fruitlands had proved to be; and as the fourierite phalansteries, in which horace greeley interested himself, were destined to be. in one sense, all these were failures; but in thoreau's case the failure was slight, the discipline and experience gained were invaluable. he never regretted it, and the walden episode in his career has made him better known than anything else. chapter ix. horace in the rÔle of mÆcenas. in a letter to his sister sophia, july , , written from mr. william emerson's house at staten island, thoreau says:-- "in new york i have seen, since i wrote last, horace greeley, editor of the 'tribune,' who is cheerfully in earnest at his office of all work,--a hearty new hampshire boy as one would wish to meet,--and says, 'now be neighborly.' he believes only or mainly, first in the sylvania association, somewhere in pennsylvania; and secondly, and most of all, in a new association, to go into operation soon in new jersey, with which he is connected." this was the "phalanstery" at which w. h. channing afterward preached. a fortnight later, thoreau writes to mr. emerson:-- "i have had a pleasant talk with w. h. channing; and greeley, too, it was refreshing to meet. they were both much pleased with your criticism on carlyle, but thought that you had overlooked what chiefly concerned them in the book,--its practical aims and merits." this refers to the notice of carlyle's "past and present," in the "dial" for july, , and shows that mr. greeley was a quick reader of that magazine, as thoreau always was of the "new york tribune." from this time onward a warm friendship continued between thoreau and greeley, and many letters went to and fro, which reveal the able editor in the light of a modern mæcenas to the author of the musketaquid georgics. no letters seem to have passed between them earlier than ; and in - thoreau must have known the "tribune" editor best through his newspaper, and from the letters of margaret fuller, ellery channing, and other common friends, who saw much of him then, admired and laughed at him, or did both by turns. miss fuller, who had gone to new york to write for the "tribune," and to live in its editor's family, wrote:-- "mr. greeley is a man of genuine excellence, honorable, benevolent, and of an uncorrupted disposition. he is sagacious, and, in his way, of even great abilities. in modes of life and manners, he is a man of the people,--and of the american people. with the exception of my own mother, i think him the most disinterestedly generous person i have ever known." there was a laughable side even to these fine traits, and there were eccentricities of dress and manner, which others saw more keenly than this generous woman. ellery channing,--whose eye no whimsical or beautiful object ever escaped,--in the letter of march, , already cited, thus signaled to thoreau the latest news of his friend:-- "mumbo jumbo is recovering from an attack of sore eyes, and will soon be out, in a pair of canvas trousers, scarlet jacket, and cocked hat. i understand he intends to demolish all the remaining species of fetichism at a meal. i think it is probable it will vomit him." thoreau wrote an essay on carlyle in , and in the summer of that year sent it to mr. greeley, with a request that he would find a place for it in some magazine. to this request, which mr. greeley himself had invited, no doubt, he thus replied:-- "_august , ._ "my dear thoreau,--believe me when i say that i _mean_ to do the errand you have asked of me, and that soon. but i am not sanguine of success, and have hardly a hope that it will be immediate, if ever. i hardly know a work that would publish your article all at once, and 'to be continued' are words shunned like a pestilence. but i know you have written a good thing about carlyle,--too solidly good, i fear, to be profitable to yourself, or attractive to publishers. did'st thou ever, o my friend! ponder on the significance and cogency of the assurance, 'ye cannot serve god and mammon,' as applicable to literature,--applicable, indeed, to all things whatsoever? god grant us grace to endeavor to serve him rather than mammon,--that ought to suffice us. in my poor judgment, if anything is calculated to make a scoundrel of an honest man, writing to sell is that very particular thing. "yours heartily, "horace greeley. "remind ralph waldo emerson and wife of my existence and grateful remembrance." on the th of september mr. greeley again wrote, saying,-- "i learned to-day, through mr. griswold, former editor of 'graham's magazine,' that your lecture is accepted, to appear in that magazine. of course it is to be paid for at the usual rate, as i expressly so stated when i inclosed it to graham. he has not written me a word on the subject, which induces me to think he may have written you.[ ] please write me if you would have me speak further on the subject. the pay, however, is sure, though the amount may not be large, and i think you may wait until the article appears, before making further stipulations on the subject." from the tenor of this i infer that thoreau had written to say that he might wish to read his "thomas carlyle" as a lecture, and desired to stipulate for that before it was printed. he might be excused for some solicitude concerning payment, from his recent experience with the publishers of the "boston miscellany," which had printed, in , his "walk to wachusett." at the very time when thoreau, in new york, was making greeley's acquaintance, mr. emerson, in boston, was dunning the miscellaneous publishers, and wrote to thoreau (july , ):-- "when i called on ----, their partner, in their absence, informed me that they could not pay you, at present, any part of their debt on account of the boston 'miscellany.' after much talking all the promise he could offer was, 'that within a year it would probably be paid,'--a probability which certainly looks very slender. the very worst thing he said was the proposition that you should take your payment in the form of boston miscellanies! i shall not fail to refresh their memory at intervals." but i cannot learn that anything came of it. mr. greeley, as we shall see, was a more successful collector. on the th of october, , he continued the adventures of the wandering essay as follows:-- "my friend thoreau,--i know you think it odd that you have not heard further, and, perhaps blame my negligence or engrossing cares, but, if so, without good reason. i have to-day received a letter from griswold, in philadelphia, who says: 'the article by thoreau on carlyle is in type, and will be paid for liberally.' 'liberally' is quoted as an expression of graham's. i know well the difference between a publisher's and an author's idea of what _is_ 'liberally'; but i give you the best i can get as the result of three letters to philadelphia on this subject. "success to you, my friend! remind mr. and mrs. emerson of my existence, and my lively remembrance of their various kindnesses. "yours, very busy in our political contest, "horace greeley." it would seem that "griswold" (who was rufus w. griswold, the biographer of poe) and "graham" (who was george r. graham, the magazine publisher of philadelphia), did not move so fast either in publication or in payment as they had led mr. greeley to expect; and also that thoreau became impatient and wrote to his friend that he would withdraw the essay. whereupon mr. greeley, under date of february , , wrote thus:-- "my dear thoreau,--although your letter only came to hand to-day, i attended to its subject yesterday, when i was in philadelphia, on my way home from washington. your article is this moment in type, and will appear about the th inst., _as the leading article_ in 'graham's magazine' for next month. now don't object to this, nor be unreasonably sensitive at the delay. it is immensely more important to you that the article should appear thus (that is, if you have any literary aspirations) than it is that you should make a few dollars by issuing it in some other way. as to lecturing, you have been at perfect liberty to deliver it as a lecture a hundred times, if you had chosen,--the more the better. it is really a good thing, and i will see that graham pays you fairly for it. but its appearance there is worth far more to you than money. i know there has been too much delay, and have done my best to obviate it. but i could not. a magazine that pays, and which it is desirable to be known as a contributor to, is always crowded with articles, and has to postpone some for others of even less merit. i do this myself with good things that i am not required to pay for. "thoreau, do not think hard of graham. do not try to stop the publication of your article. it is best as it is. but just sit down and write a like article about emerson, which i will give you $ for, if you cannot do better with it; then one about hawthorne at your leisure, etc., etc. i will pay you the money for each of these articles on delivery, publish them when and how i please, leaving to you the copyright expressly. in a year or two, if you take care not to write faster than you think, you will have the material of a volume worth publishing,--and then we will see what can be done. there is a text somewhere in st. paul--my scriptural reading is getting rusty,--which says, 'look not back to the things which are behind, but rather to those which are before,' etc. commending this to your thoughtful appreciation, i am, yours, etc. "horace greeley." the carlyle essay did appear in two numbers of "graham's magazine" (march and april, ), but alas, no payment came to hand. after waiting a year longer, thoreau wrote to greeley again (march , ), informing him of the delinquency of griswold and graham. at once, his friend replied (april ), "it saddens and surprises me to know that your article was not paid for by graham; and, since my honor is involved in the matter, i will see that you _are_ paid, and that at no distant day." accordingly on the th of may, , he writes again as follows:-- "dear friend thoreau,--i trust you have not thought me neglectful or dilatory with regard to your business. i have done my very best, throughout, and it is only to-day that i have been able to lay my hand on the money due you from graham. i have been to see him in philadelphia, but did not catch him in his business office; then i have been here to meet him, and been referred to his brother, etc. i finally found the two numbers of the work in which your article was published (not easy, i assure you, for he has them not, nor his brother, and i hunted them up, and bought one of them at a very out-of-the-way place), and with these i made out a regular bill for the contribution; drew a draft on g. r. graham for the amount, gave it to his brother here for collection, and to-day received the money. now you see how to get pay yourself, another time; i have pioneered the way, and you can follow it easily yourself. there has been no intentional injustice on graham's part; but he is overwhelmed with business, has too many irons in the fire, and we did not go at him the right way. had you drawn a draft on him, at first, and given it to the concord bank to send in for collection, you would have received your money long since. enough of this. i have made graham pay you $ , but i only send you $ , for, having got so much for carlyle, i am ashamed to take your 'maine woods' for $ ." this last allusion is to a new phase of the queer patronage which the good mæcenas extended to our concord poet. in his letter of march , , thoreau had offered greeley, in compliance with his suggestion of the previous year, a paper on "ktaadn and the maine woods," which afterwards appeared in the "union magazine." on the th of april greeley writes:-- "i inclose you $ for your article on maine scenery, as promised. i know it is worth more, though i have not yet found time to read it; but i have tried once to sell it without success. it is rather long for my columns, and too fine for the million; but i consider it a cheap bargain, and shall print it myself, if i do not dispose of it to better advantage. you will not, of course, consider yourself under any sort of obligation to me, for my offer was in the way of business, and i have got more than the worth of my money." on the th of may he adds:-- "i have expectations of procuring it a place in a new magazine of high character that will pay. i don't expect to get as much for it as for carlyle, but i hope to get $ . if you are satisfied to take the $ for your 'maine woods,' say so, and i will send on the money; but i don't want to seem a jew, buying your articles at half price to speculate upon. if you choose to let it go that way, it shall be so; but i would sooner do my best for you, and send you the money." on the th of october, , he writes: "i break a silence of some duration to inform you that i hope on monday to receive payment for your glorious account of 'ktaadn and the maine woods,' which i bought of you at a jew's bargain, and sold to the 'union magazine.' i am to get $ for it, and, as i don't choose to _exploiter_ you at such a rate, i shall insist on inclosing you $ more in this letter, which will still leave me $ to pay various charges and labors i have incurred in selling your articles and getting paid for them,--the latter by far the more difficult portion of the business." in the letter of april , , mr. greeley had further said:-- "if you will write me two or three articles in the course of the summer, i think i can dispose of them for your benefit. but write not more than half as long as your article just sent me, for that is too long for the magazines. if that were in two, it would be far more valuable. what about your book (the 'week')? is anything going on about it now? why did not emerson try it in england? i think the howitts could get it favorably before the british public. if you can suggest any way wherein i can put it forward, do not hesitate, but command me." in the letter of may th, he reiterates the advice to be brief:-- "thoreau, if you will only write one or two articles, when in the spirit, about half the length of this, i can sell it readily and advantageously. the length of your papers is the only impediment to their appreciation by the magazines. give me one or two shorter, and i will try to coin them speedily." may th he returns to the charge, when sending the last twenty-five dollars for the "maine woods":-- "write me something shorter when the spirit moves (never write a line otherwise, for the hack writer is a slavish beast, _i_ know), and i will sell it for you soon. i want one shorter article from your pen that will be quoted, as these long articles cannot be, and let the public know something of your way of thinking and seeing. it will do good. what do you think of following out your thought in an essay on 'the literary life?' you need not make a personal allusion, but i know you can write an article worth reading on that theme, when you are in the vein." after a six months' interval (november , ), greeley resumes in a similar strain:-- "friend thoreau,--yours of the th received. say we are even on money counts, and let the matter drop. i have tried to serve you, and have been fully paid for my own disbursements and trouble in the premises. so we will move on. "i think you will do well to send me some passages from one or both of your new works to dispose of to the magazines. this will be the best kind of advertisement, whether for a publisher or for readers. you may write with an angel's pen, yet your writings have no mercantile money value till you are known and talked of as an author. mr. emerson would have been twice as much known and read, if he had written for the magazines a little, just to let common people know of his existence. i believe a chapter from one of your books printed in 'graham,' or 'the union,' will add many to the readers of the volume when issued. here is the reason why british books sell so much better among us than american,--because they are thoroughly advertised through the british reviews, magazines, and journals which circulate or are copied among us. however, do as you please. if you choose to send me one of your manuscripts i will get it published, but i cannot promise you any considerable recompense; and, indeed, if munroe will do it, that will be better. your writings are in advance of the general mind here; boston is nearer their standard. i never saw the verses you speak of. won't you send them again? i have been buried up in politics for the last six weeks. kind regards to emerson. it is doubtful about my seeing you this season." here the letters ceased for a time. "munroe did it,"--that is, a boston bookseller published thoreau's "week," which was favorably reviewed by george ripley in the "tribune," by lowell in the "massachusetts quarterly," and by others elsewhere; but the book did not sell, and involved its author in debt for its printing. to meet this he took up surveying as a business, and after a time, when some payment must be made, he asked his friend greeley for a loan. in the interval, margaret fuller had written from europe those remarkable letters for the "tribune," had married in italy, sailed for home in , and died on the shore of fire island, near new york, whither thoreau went with her friends to learn her fate, and recover the loved remains. this was in july, , and he no doubt saw mr. greeley there. a year and a half later, when he was seeking opportunities to lecture, he wrote to mr. greeley again, in february, , offering himself to lecture in a course at new york, which the "tribune" editor had some interest in. the reply was this:-- "new york, _february , _. "my friend thoreau,--thank you for your remembrance, though the motto you suggest is impracticable. the people's course is full for the season; and even if it were not, your name would probably not pass; because it is not merely necessary that each lecturer should continue _well_ the course, but that he shall be _known_ as the very man beforehand. whatever draws less than fifteen hundred hearers damages the finances of the movement, so low is the admission, and so large the expense. but, thoreau, you are a better speaker than many, but a far better writer still. do you wish to swap any of your 'wood-notes wild' for dollars? if yea, and you will sell me some articles, shorter, if you please, than the former, i will try to coin them for you. is it a bargain? yours, "horace greeley." thoreau responded at once with some manuscripts (march ), and was thus addressed, march , by his friend:-- "i shall get you some money for the articles you sent me, though not immediately. as to your long account of a canadian tour, i don't know. it looks unmanageable. can't you cut it into three or four, and omit all that relates to time? the cities are described to death; but i know you are at home with nature, and that _she_ rarely and slowly changes. break this up, if you can, and i will try to have it swallowed and digested." a week later he sent a letter from the publisher, sartain, accepting the articles for a low price,[ ] and adds: "if you break up your 'excursion to canada' into three or four articles, i have no doubt i could get it published on similar terms." april , , he returns to a former proposition, that thoreau shall write about emerson as he did six years before on carlyle. "friend thoreau,--i wish you to write me an article on ralph waldo emerson, his works and ways, extending to one hundred pages, or so, of letter sheet like this, to take the form of a review of his writings, but to give some idea of the poet, the genius, the man,--with some idea of the new england scenery and home influence, which have combined to make him what he is. let it be calm, searching, and impartial; nothing like adulation, but a just summing up of what he is and what he has done. i mean to get this into the 'westminster review,' but if not acceptable there, i will publish it elsewhere. i will pay you fifty dollars for the article when delivered; in advance, if you desire it. say the word, and i will send the money at once. it is perfectly convenient to do so. your 'carlyle' article is my model, but you can give us emerson better than you did carlyle. i presume he would allow you to write extracts for this purpose from his lectures not yet published. i would delay the publication of the article to suit his publishing arrangements, should that be requested. "yours, "horace greeley." to this request, as before, there came a prompt negative, although thoreau was then sadly in need of money. mr. greeley wrote, april :-- "i am rather sorry you will not do the 'works and ways,' but glad that you are able to employ your time to better purpose. but your quebec notes haven't reached me yet, and i fear the 'good time' is passing. they ought to have appeared in the june number of the monthlies, but now cannot before july. if you choose to send them to me all in a lump, i will try to get them printed in that way. i don't care about them if you choose to reserve, or to print them elsewhere; but i can better make a use for them at this season than at any other." they were sent, and offered to the "whig review," and to other magazines; but on the th of june, mr. greeley writes:-- "i have had only bad luck with your manuscript. two magazines have refused it on the ground of its length, saying that articles 'to be continued' are always unpopular, however good. i will try again." it seems that the author had relied upon money from this source, and a week or two later he asks his friend to lend him the expected seventy-five dollars, offering security, with mercantile scrupulosity. promptly came this answer:-- "new york, _july , _. "dear thoreau,--yours received. i was absent yesterday. i _can_ lend you the seventy-five dollars, and am very glad to do it. don't talk about security. i am sorry about your mss., which i do not quite despair of using to your advantage. "yours, "horace greeley." the "yankee in canada," as it is now called (the record of thoreau's journey through french canada in september, , with ellery channing), was offered to "putnam's magazine" by mr. greeley, and begun there, but ill-luck attended it. before it went the paper on "cape cod," which became the subject of controversy, first as to price, and then as to its tone towards the people of that region. this will explain the letters of mr. greeley that follow:-- "new york, _november , _. "my dear thoreau,--i have made no bargain--none whatever--with putnam concerning your mss. i have indicated no price to them. i handed over the ms. because i wished it published, and presumed that was in accordance both with your interest and your wishes. and i now say to you, that if he will pay you three dollars per printed page, i think that will be very well. i have promised to write something for him myself, and shall be well satisfied with that price. your 'canada' is not so fresh and acceptable as if it had just been written on the strength of a last summer's trip, and i hope you will have it printed in 'putnam's monthly.' but i have said nothing to his folks as to price, and will not till i hear from you again. very probably there was some misapprehension on the part of c. i presume the price now offered you is that paid to writers generally for the 'monthly.' as to sartain, i know his '(union) magazine' has broken down, but i guess he will pay you. i have seen but one of your articles printed by him, and i think the other may be reclaimed. please address him at once." "new york, _january , _. "friend thoreau,--i have yours of the th, and credit you $ . pay me when and in such sums as may be convenient. i am sorry you and c. cannot agree so as to have your whole ms. printed. it will be worth nothing elsewhere after having partly appeared in putnam's. i think it is a mistake to conceal the authorship of the several articles, making them all (so to speak) _editorial_; but _if_ that is done, don't you see that the elimination of very flagrant heresies (like your defiant pantheism) becomes a necessity? if you had withdrawn your mss., on account of the abominable misprints in the first number, your ground would have been far more tenable. "however, do what you will. yours, "horace greeley." thoreau did what he would, of course, and the article in putnam came to an abrupt end. the loan made in july, , was paid with interest on the th of march, , as the following note shows:-- "new york, _march , _. "dear sir,--i have yours of the th, inclosing putnam's check for $ , making $ in all you have paid me. i am paid in full, and this letter is your receipt in full. i don't want any pay for my 'services,' whatever they may have been. consider me your friend who _wished_ to serve you, however unsuccessfully. don't break with c. or putnam." a year later, thoreau renewed his subscription to the "weekly tribune," but the letter miscarried. in due time came this reply to a third letter:-- "_march , ._ "dear sir,--i presume your first letter containing the $ was robbed by our general mail robber of new haven, who has just been sent to the state's prison. your second letter has probably failed to receive attention owing to a press of business. but i will make all right. you ought to have the semi-weekly, and i shall order it sent to you one year on trial; if you choose to write me a letter or so some time, very well; if not, we will be even without that. "thoreau, i want you to do something on _my_ urgency. i want you to collect and arrange your 'miscellanies' and send them to me. put in 'ktaadn,' 'carlyle,' 'a winter walk,' 'canada,' etc., and i will try to find a publisher who will bring them out at his own risk, and (i hope) to your ultimate profit. if you have anything new to put with them, very well; but let me have about a mo volume whenever you can get it ready, and see if there is not something to your credit in the bank of fortune. yours, "horace greeley." in reply, thoreau notified his friend of the early publication of "walden," and was thus met:-- "_march , ._ "dear thoreau,--i am glad your 'walden' is coming out. _i_ shall announce it at once, whether ticknor does or not. i am in no hurry now about your 'miscellanies;' take your time, select your title, and prepare your articles deliberately and finally. then, if ticknor will give you something worth having, let him have this too; if proffering it to him is to glut your market, let it come to me. but take your time. i was only thinking you were merely waiting when you might be doing something. i referred (without naming you) to your 'walden' experience in my lecture on 'self-culture,' with which i have had ever so many audiences. this episode excited much interest, and i have been repeatedly asked who it is that i refer to. "yours, "horace greeley. "p. s.--you must know miss elizabeth hoar, whereas i hardly do. now, i have offered to edit margaret's works, and i want of elizabeth a letter or memorandum of personal recollections of margaret and her ideas. can't you ask her to write it for me? "h. g." to the request of this postscript thoreau attended at once, but the "miscellanies" dwelt not in his mind, it would seem. he had now become deeply concerned about slavery, was also pursuing his studies concerning the indians, and had little time for the collection of his published papers. a short note of april , , closes this part of the greeley correspondence, thus:-- "dear thoreau,--thank you for your kindness in the matter of margaret. pray take no further trouble; but if anything should come in your way, calculated to help me, do not forget. "yours, "horace greeley." in august, , mr. greeley wrote to suggest that copies of "walden" should be sent to the "westminster review," to "the reasoner," fleet street, london, to gerald massey, office of the "news," edinburgh, and to "---- wills, esq., dickens's household words," adding:-- "there is a small class in england who ought to know what you have written, and i feel sure your publishers would not throw away copies sent to these periodicals; especially if your 'week on the concord and merrimac' could accompany them. chapman, editor of the 'westminster,' expressed surprise that your book had not been sent him, and i could find very few who had read or seen it. if a new edition should be called for, try to have it better known in europe, but have a few copies sent to those worthy of it, at all events." in march, , mr. greeley opened a new correspondence with thoreau, asking him to become the tutor of his children, and to live with him, or near him, at chappaqua. the proposition was made in the most generous manner, and was for a time considered by thoreau, who felt a sense of obligation as well as a sincere friendship towards the man who had believed in him and served him so seasonably in the years of his obscurity. but it resulted in nothing further than a brief visit to mr. greeley in the following autumn, during which, as thoreau used to say, mr. alcott and mr. greeley went to the opera together. chapter x. in wood and field. except the indians themselves, whose wood-craft he never tires of celebrating, few americans were ever more at home in the open air than thoreau; not even his friend john brown, who, like himself, suggested the indian by the delicacy of his perceptions and his familiarity with all that goes forward, or stands still, in wood and field. thoreau could find his path in the woods at night, he said, better by his feet than his eyes. "he was a good swimmer," says emerson, "a good runner, skater, boatman, and would outwalk most countrymen in a day's journey. and the relation of body to mind was still finer. the length of his walk uniformly made the length of his writing. if shut up in the house, he did not write at all." in his last illness says channing,-- "his habit of engrossing his thoughts in a journal, which had lasted for a quarter of a century,--his out-door life, of which he used to say, if he omitted that, all his living ceased,--this now became so incontrovertibly a thing of the past that he said once, standing at the window, 'i cannot see on the outside at all. we thought ourselves great philosophers in those wet days when we used to go out and sit down by the wall-sides.' this was absolutely all he was ever heard to say of that outward world during his illness, neither could a stranger in the least infer that he had ever a friend in field or wood." this out-door life began as early as he could recollect, and his special attraction to rivers, woods, and lakes was a thing of his boyhood. he had begun to collect indian relics before leaving college, and was a diligent student of natural history there. whether he was naturally an observer or not (which has been denied in a kind of malicious paradox), let his life-work attest. early in he made some collections of fishes, turtles, etc., in concord for agassiz, then newly arrived in america, and i have (in a letter of may , ) this account of their reception:-- "i carried them immediately to mr. agassiz, who was highly delighted with them. some of the species he had seen before, but never in so fresh condition. others, as the breams and the pout, he had seen only in spirits, and the little turtle he knew only from the books. i am sure you would have felt fully repaid for your trouble, if you could have seen the eager satisfaction with which he surveyed each fin and scale. he said the small mud-turtle was really a very rare species, quite distinct from the snapping-turtle. the breams and pout seemed to please the professor very much. he would gladly come up to concord to make a spearing excursion, as you suggested, but is drawn off by numerous and pressing engagements." on the th of may, thoreau's correspondent says:-- "mr. agassiz was very much surprised and pleased at the extent of the collections you sent during his absence; the little fox he has established in comfortable quarters in his backyard, where he is doing well. among the fishes you sent there is one, probably two, new species." june st, in other collections, other new species were discovered, much to agassiz's delight, who never failed afterward to cultivate thoreau's society when he could. but the poet avoided the man of science, having no love for dissection; though he recognized in agassiz the qualities that gave him so much distinction. the paper on "ktaadn and the maine woods," which horace greeley bought "at a jew's bargain," and sold to a publisher for seventy-five dollars, was the journal of a visit made to the highest mountain of maine during thoreau's second summer at walden. an aunt of his had married in bangor, maine, and her daughters had again married there, so that the young forester of concord had kinsmen on the penobscot, engaged in converting the maine forests into pine lumber. at the end of august, in , while his carlyle manuscript was passing from greeley to griswold, from griswold to graham, and from graham to the philadelphia type-setters, thoreau himself was on his way from boston to bangor; and on the first day of september he started with his cousin from bangor, to explore the upper waters of the penobscot and climb the summit of ktaadn. the forest region about this mountain had been explored in by dr. jackson, the state geologist, a brother-in-law of mr. emerson; but no poet before thoreau had visited these solitudes and described his experiences there. james russell lowell did so a few years later, and, early in the century, hawthorne, longfellow, and emerson had tested the solitude of the maine woods, and written about them. the verses of emerson, describing his own experiences there (not so well known as they should be), are often thought to imply thoreau, though they were written before emerson had known his younger friend, whose after adventures they portray with felicity. "in unploughed maine he sought the lumberers' gang, where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; he trod the unplanted forest-floor, whereon the all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; where feeds the moose and walks the surly bear, and up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. he saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, the slight linnæa hang its twin-born heads, and blessed the monument of the man of flowers, which breathes his sweet fame through the northern bowers. he heard, when in the grove, at intervals with sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,-- one crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, declares the close of its green century. * * * * * through these green tents, by eldest nature dressed, he roamed, content alike with man and beast, where darkness found him he lay glad at night; there the red morning touched him with its light. three moons his great heart him a hermit made, so long he roved at will the boundless shade." thus much is a picture of the maine forests, and may have been suggested in part by the woodland life of dr. jackson there while surveying the state. but what follows is the brave proclamation of the poet, for himself and his heroes, among whom thoreau and john brown must be counted, since it declares their creed and practice,--while in the last couplet the whole inner doctrine of transcendentalism is set forth:-- "the timid it concerns to ask their way, and fear what foes in caves and swamps can stray, to make no step until the event is known, and ills to come as evils past bemoan. not so the wise: no timid watch he keeps to spy what danger on his pathway creeps; go where he will the wise man is at home, his hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome; where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road, by god's own light illumined and foreshowed." thoreau may have heard these verses read by their author in his study, before he set forth on his first journey to maine in ; they were first published in the "dial" in october, , but are omitted, for some reason, in a partial edition of emerson's poems (in ). he never complied with this description so far as to spend three months in the maine woods, even in the three campaigns which he made there (in , in , and in ), for in none of these did he occupy three weeks, and in all but little more than a month. his account of them, as now published, makes a volume by itself, which his friend channing edited two years after thoreau's death, and which contains the fullest record of his studies of the american indian. it was his purpose to develop these studies into a book concerning the indian, and for this purpose he made endless readings in the jesuit fathers, in books of travel, and in all the available literature of the subject. but the papers he had thus collected were not left in such form that they could be published; and so much of his untiring diligence seems now lost, almost thrown away. doubtless his friends and editors, upon call, will one day print detached portions of these studies, from entries in his journals, and from his commonplace books. in his explorations of concord and its vicinity, as well as in those longer foot-journeys which he took among the mountains and along the sea-shore of new england, from to , thoreau's habits were those of an experienced hunter, though he seldom used a gun in his years of manhood. upon this point he says in "walden":-- "almost every new england boy among my contemporaries shouldered a fowling-piece between the ages of ten and fourteen; and his hunting and fishing grounds were not limited, like the preserves of an english nobleman, but were more boundless than even those of the savage. perhaps i have owed to fishing and hunting, when quite young, my closest acquaintance with nature. they early introduce us to and detain us in scenery with which, otherwise, at that age, we should have little acquaintance. fishermen, hunters, wood-choppers, and others, spending their lives in the fields and woods, in a peculiar sense a part of nature themselves, are often in a more favorable mood for observing her, in the intervals of their pursuits, than philosophers or poets, even, who approach her with expectation. she is not afraid to exhibit herself to them.... i have actually fished from the same kind of necessity that the first fishers did. i have long felt differently about fowling, and sold my gun before i went to the woods. i did not pity the fishes nor the worms. as for fowling, during the last years that i carried a gun my excuse was that i was studying ornithology, and sought only new or rare birds. but i am now inclined to think there is a finer way of studying ornithology than this. it requires so much closer attention to the habits of the birds that, if for that reason only, i have been willing to omit the gun.... we cannot but pity the boy who has never fired a gun; he is no more humane, while his education has been sadly neglected." emerson mentions that thoreau preferred his spy-glass to his gun to bring the bird nearer to his eye, and says also of his patience in out-door observation:-- "he knew how to sit immovable, a part of the rock he rested on, until the bird, the reptile, the fish, which had retired from him, should come back and resume its habits,--nay, moved by curiosity, should come to him and watch him." and i have thought that emerson had thoreau in mind when he described his "forester":-- "he took the color of his vest from rabbit's coat or grouse's breast; for as the wood-kinds lurk and hide, so walks the woodman unespied." the same friend said of him:-- "it was a pleasure and a privilege to walk with him. he knew the country like a fox or bird, and passed through it as freely by paths of his own. under his arm he carried an old music-book to press plants;[ ] in his pocket his diary and pencil, a spy-glass for birds, microscope, jack-knife, and twine. he wore straw hat, stout shoes, strong gray trousers, to brave shrub-oaks and smilax, and to climb a tree for a hawk's or squirrel's nest. he waded into the pool for the water-plants, and his strong legs were no insignificant part of his armor. his intimacy with animals suggested what thomas fuller records of butler the apiologist, 'that either he had told the bees things, or the bees had told him.' snakes coiled round his leg, the fishes swam into his hand, and he took them out of the water; he pulled the woodchuck out of its hole by the tail, and took the foxes under his protection from the hunters. he confessed that he sometimes felt like a hound or a panther, and, if born among indians, would have been a fell hunter. but, restrained by his massachusetts culture, he played out the game in the mild form of botany and ichthyology. his power of observation seemed to indicate additional senses; he saw as with microscope, heard as with ear-trumpet, and his memory was a photographic register of all he saw and heard. every fact lay in order and glory in his mind, a type of the order and beauty of the whole." it was this poetic and coördinating vision of the natural world which distinguished thoreau from the swarm of naturalists, and raised him to the rank of a philosopher even in his tedious daily observations. channing, no less than emerson, has observed and noted this trait, giving to his friend the exact title of "poet-naturalist," and also, in his poem, "the wanderer," bestowing on him the queer name of _idolon_, which he thus explains:-- "so strangely was the general current mixed with his vexed native blood in its crank wit, that as a mirror shone the common world to this observing youth,--whom noting, thence i called _idolon_,--ever firm to mark swiftly reflected in himself the whole." in an earlier poem channing had called him "rudolpho," and had thus portrayed his daily and nightly habits of observation:-- "i see rudolpho cross our honest fields collapsed with thought, and as the stagyrite at intellectual problems, mastering day after day part of the world's concern. nor welcome dawns nor shrinking nights him menace, still adding to his list beetle and bee,-- of what the vireo builds a pensile nest, and why the peetweet drops her giant egg in wheezing meadows, odorous with sweet brake. who wonders that the flesh declines to grow along his sallow pits? or that his life, to social pleasure careless, pines away in dry seclusion and unfruitful shade? i must admire thy brave apprenticeship to those dry forages, although the worldling laugh in his sleeve at thy compelled devotion. so shalt thou learn, rudolpho, as thou walk'st, more from the winding lanes where nature leaves her unaspiring creatures, and surpass in some fine saunter her acclivity." the hint here given that thoreau injured his once robust health by his habits of out-door study and the hardships he imposed on himself, had too much truth in it. growing up with great strength of body and limb, and having cultivated his physical advantages by a temperate youth much exercised with manual labor, in which he took pleasure, thoreau could not learn the lesson of moderation in those pursuits to which his nature inclined. he exposed himself in his journeys and night encampments to cold and hunger, and changes of weather, which the strongest cannot brave with impunity. mr. edward hoar, who traveled with him in the maine woods in ,--a journey of three hundred and twenty-five miles with a canoe and an indian, among the head-waters of the kennebec, penobscot, and st. john's rivers,--and who in visited the white mountains with him, remembers, with a shiver to this day, the rigor of a night spent on the bare rocks of mount washington, with insufficient blankets,--thoreau sleeping from habit, but himself lying wakeful all night, and gazing at the coldest of full moons. it was after such an experience as this on monadnoc, whither thoreau and channing went to camp out for a week in august, , that the latter wrote:-- "with the night, reserved companion, cool and sparsely clad, dream, till the threefold hour with lowly voice steals whispering in thy frame, 'rise, valiant youth! the dawn draws on apace, envious of thee, and polar in his gait; advance thy limbs, nor strive to heat the stones.'" thoreau had much scorn for weakness like this, and said of his comrade, "i fear that he did not improve all the night as he might have done, to sleep." this was his last excursion, and he died within less than two years afterward. the account of it which channing has given may therefore be read with interest:-- "he ascended such hills as monadnoc by his own path; would lay down his map on the summit and draw a line to the point he proposed to visit below,--perhaps forty miles away on the landscape, and set off bravely to make the 'shortcut.' the lowland people wondered to see him scaling the heights as if he had lost his way, or at his jumping over their cow-yard fences,--asking if he had fallen from the clouds. in a walk like this he always carried his umbrella; and on this monadnoc trip, when about a mile from the station (in troy, n. h.), a torrent of rain came down; without the umbrella his books, blankets, maps, and provisions would all have been spoiled, or the morning lost by delay. on the mountain there being a thick soaking fog, the first object was to camp and make tea.[ ] he spent five nights in camp, having built another hut, to get varied views. flowers, birds, lichens, and the rocks were carefully examined, all parts of the mountain were visited, and as accurate a map as could be made by pocket compass was carefully sketched and drawn out, in the five days spent there,--with notes of the striking aerial phenomena, incidents of travel and natural history. the fatigue, the blazing sun, the face getting broiled, the pint-cup never scoured, shaving unutterable, your stockings dreary, having taken to peat,--not all the books in the world, as sancho says, could contain the adventures of a week in camping. the wild, free life, the open air, the new and strange sounds by night and day, the odd and bewildering rocks, amid which a person can be lost within a rod of camp; the strange cries of visitors to the summit; the great valley over to wachusett, with its thunder-storms and battles in the cloud; the farmers' backyards in jaffrey, where the family cotton can be seen bleaching on the grass, but no trace of the pigmy family; the dry, soft air all night, the lack of dew in the morning; the want of water,--a pint being a good deal,--these, and similar things make up some part of such an excursion." these excursions were common with thoreau, but less so with channing, who therefore, notes down many things that his friend would not think worth recording, except as a part of that calendar of nature which he set himself to keep, and of which his journals, for more than twenty years, are the record. from these he made up his printed volumes, and there may be read the details that he registered. he had gauges for the height of the river, noted the temperature of springs and ponds, the tints of the morning and evening sky, the flowering and fruit of plants, all the habits of birds and animals, and every aspect of nature from the smallest to the greatest. much of this is the dryest detail, but everywhere you come upon strokes of beauty, in a single word-picture, or in a page of idyllic description, like this of the concord heifer, which might be a poem of theocritus, or one of the lost bucolics of moschus:-- "one more confiding heifer, the fairest of the herd, did by degrees approach, as if to take some morsel from our hands, while our hearts leaped to our mouths with expectation and delight. she by degrees drew near with her fair limbs progressive, making pretense of browsing; nearer and nearer till there was wafted to us the bovine fragrance,--cream of all the dairies that ever were or will be,--and then she raised her gentle muzzle toward us, and snuffed an honest recognition within hand's reach. i saw it was possible for his herd to inspire with love the herdsman. she was as delicately featured as a hind; her hide was mingled white and fawn color; on her muzzle's tip there was a white spot not bigger than a daisy; and on her side turned toward me the map of asia plain to see. farewell, dear heifer! though thou forgettest me, my prayer to heaven shall be that thou may'st not forget thyself. "i saw her name was sumach. and by the kindred spots i knew her mother, more sedate and matronly, with full-grown bag, and on her sides was asia, great and small, the plains of tartary, even to the pole, while on her daughter's was asia minor. she was not disposed to wanton with the herdsman. as i walked the heifer followed me, and took an apple from my hand, and seemed to care more for the hand than the apple. so innocent a face i have rarely seen on any creature, and i have looked in the face of many heifers; and as she took the apple from my hand, i caught the apple of her eye. there was no sinister expression. she smelled as sweet as the clethra blossom. for horns, though she had them, they were so well disposed in the right place, but neither up nor down, that i do not now remember she had any." or take this apostrophe to the "queen of night, the huntress diana," which is not a translation from some greek worshipper, but the sincere ascription of a new england hunter of the noblest deer:-- "my dear, my dewy sister, let thy rain descend on me! i not only love thee, but i love the best of thee,--that is to love thee rarely. i do not love thee every day--commonly i love those who are less than thee; i love thee only on great days. thy dewy words feed me like the manna of the morning. i am as much thy sister as thy brother; thou art as much my brother as my sister. it is a portion of thee and a portion of me which are of kin. o my sister! o diana! thy tracks are on the eastern hill; thou newly didst pass that way. i, the hunter, saw them in the morning dew. my eyes are the hounds that pursued thee. i hear thee; thou canst speak, i cannot; i fear and forget to answer; i am occupied with hearing. i awoke and thought of thee; thou wast present to my mind. how camest thou there? was i not present to thee, likewise?" in such a lofty mystical strain did this concord endymion declare his passion for nature, in whose green lap he slumbers now on the hill-side which the goddess nightly revisits. "o sister of the sun, draw near, with softly-moving step and slow, for dreaming not of earthly woe thou seest endymion sleeping here!" chapter xi. personal traits and social life. the face of thoreau, once seen, could not easily be forgotten, so strong was the mark that genius had set upon it. the portrait of him, which has been commonly engraved, though it bore some resemblance at the time it was taken (by s. w. rowse, in ), was never a very exact likeness. a few years later he began to wear his beard long, and this fine silken muffler for his delicate throat and lungs, was also an ornament to his grave and thoughtful face, concealing its weakest feature, a receding chin. the head engraved for this volume is from a photograph taken, in , at new bedford, and shows him as he was in his last years. his personal traits were not startling and commanding like those of webster, who drew the eyes of all men wherever he appeared, but they were peculiar, and dwelt long in the memory. his features were prominent, his eyes large, round, and deep-set, under bold brows, and full of fearless meditation; the color varying from blue to gray, as if with the moods of his mind. a youth who saw him for the first time, said with a start, "how deep and clear is the mark that _thought_ sets upon a man's face!" and, indeed, no man could fail to recognize in him that rare intangible essence we call _thought_; his slight figure was active with it, while in his face it became contemplative, as if, like his own peasant, he were "meditating some vast and sunny problem." channing says of his appearance:-- "in height he was about the average; in his build spare, with limbs that were rather longer than usual, or of which he made a longer use. his features were marked; the nose aquiline or very roman, like one of the portraits of cæsar (more like a beak, as was said); large overhanging brows above the deepest-set blue eyes that could be seen,--blue in certain lights and in others gray; the forehead not unusually broad or high, full of concentrated energy and purpose; the mouth with prominent lips, pursed up with meaning and thought when silent, and giving out when open a stream of the most varied and unusual and instructive sayings. his whole figure had an active earnestness, as if he had no moment to waste; the clenched hand betokened purpose. in walking he made a short cut, if he could, and when sitting in the shade or by the wall-side, seemed merely the clearer to look forward into the next piece of activity. the intensity of his mind, like dante's, conveyed the breathing of aloofness,--his eyes bent on the ground, his long swinging gait, his hands perhaps clasped behind him, or held closely at his side,--the fingers made into a fist." it is not possible to describe him more exactly. in december, , thoreau went to lecture at nantucket, and on his way spent a day or two with one of his correspondents, daniel ricketson of new bedford,--reaching his house on christmas day. his host, who then saw him for the first time, thus recorded his impressions:-- "i had expected him at noon, but as he did not arrive, i had given him up for the day. in the latter part of the afternoon, i was clearing off the snow, which had fallen during the day, from my front steps, when, looking up, i saw a man walking up the carriage-road, bearing a portmanteau in one hand and an umbrella in the other. he was dressed in a long overcoat of dark color, and wore a dark soft hat. i had no suspicion it was thoreau, and rather supposed it was a pedler of small wares." this was a common mistake to make about thoreau. when he ran the gauntlet of the cape cod villages,--"feeling as strange," he says, "as if he were in a town in china,"--one of the old fishermen could not believe that he had not something to sell, as bronson alcott had when he perambulated eastern virginia and north carolina in - , peddling silks and jewelry. being assured that thoreau was not peddling spectacles or books, the fisherman said at last: "well, it makes no odds what it is you carry, so long as you carry truth along with you." "as thoreau came near me," continues mr. ricketson, "he stopped and said, 'you do not know me.' it flashed at once on my mind that the person before me was my correspondent, whom in my imagination i had figured as stout and robust, instead of the small and rather inferior-looking man before me. i concealed my disappointment, and at once replied, 'i presume this is mr. thoreau.' taking his portmanteau, i conducted him to his room, already awaiting him. my disappointment at his personal appearance passed off on hearing his conversation at the table and during the evening; and rarely through the years of my acquaintance with him did his presence conflict with his noble powers of mind, his rich conversation, and broad erudition. his face was afterwards greatly improved in manly expression by the growth of his beard, which he wore in full during the later years of his life; but when i first saw him he had just been sitting for the crayon portrait of , which represents him without the beard. the 'ambrotype' of him, which is engraved for your volume, was taken for me by dunshee, at new bedford, august , , on his last visit to me at brooklawn. his health was then failing,--he had a racking cough,--but his face, except a shade of sadness in the eyes, did not show it. of this portrait, miss sophia thoreau, to whom i sent it soon after her brother's death, wrote me, may , : 'i cannot tell you how agreeably surprised i was, on opening the little box, to find my own lost brother again. i could not restrain my tears. the picture is invaluable to us. i discover a slight shade about the eyes, expressive of weariness; but a stranger might not observe it. i am very glad to possess a picture of so late a date. the crayon, drawn eight years ago next summer, we considered good; it betrays the poet. mr. channing, mr. emerson, mr. alcott, and many other friends who have looked at the ambrotype, express much satisfaction.'" of thoreau's appearance then (at the age of thirty-seven), mr. ricketson goes on to say:-- "the most expressive feature of his face was his eye, blue in color, and full of the greatest humanity and intelligence. his head was of medium size, the same as that of emerson, and he wore a number seven hat. his arms were rather long, his legs short, and his hands and feet rather large. his sloping shoulders were a mark of observation. but when in usual health he was strong and vigorous, a remarkable pedestrian, tiring out nearly all his companions in his prolonged tramps through woods and marshes, when in pursuit of some rare plant. in thoreau, as in dr. kane, lord nelson, and other heroic men, it was the spirit more than the temple in which it dwelt, that made the man." a strange mistake has prevailed as to the supposed churlishness and cynical severity of thoreau, which mr. alcott, in one of his octogenarian sonnets, has corrected, and which all who knew the man would protest against. of his domestic character mr. ricketson writes:-- "some have accused him of being an imitator of emerson, others as unsocial, impracticable, and ascetic. now, he was none of these. a more original man never lived, nor one more thoroughly a personification of civility. having been an occasional guest at his house, i can assert that no man could hold a finer relationship with his family than he." channing says the same thing more quaintly:-- "in his own home he was one of those characters who may be called household treasures; always on the spot with skillful eye and hand, to raise the best melons, plant the orchard with the choicest trees, and act as extempore mechanic; fond of the pets,--his sister's flowers or sacred tabby--kittens being his favorites,--he would play with them by the half hour." he was sometimes given to music and song, and now and then, in moments of great hilarity, would dance gayly,--as he did once at brooklawn, in the presence of his host, mr. ricketson, and mr. alcott, who was also visiting there. on the same occasion he sung his unique song of "tom bowline," which none who heard would ever forget, and finished the evening with his dance. hearing mr. ricketson speak of this dance, miss thoreau said:-- "i have so often witnessed the like, that i can easily imagine how it was; and i remember that henry gave me some account of it. i recollect he said he did not scruple to tread on mr. alcott's toes." mr. ricketson's own account is this:-- "one afternoon, when my wife was playing an air upon the piano,--'highland laddie,' perhaps,--thoreau became very hilarious, sang 'tom bowline,' and finally entered upon an improvised dance. not being able to stand what appeared to me at the time the somewhat ludicrous appearance of our walden hermit, i retreated to my 'shanty,' a short distance from my house; while my older and more humor-loving friend alcott remained and saw it through, much to his amusement. it left a pleasant memory, which i recorded in some humble lines that afterwards appeared in my 'autumn sheaf.'" after thoreau's return home from this visit, his new bedford friend seems to have sent him a copy of the words and music of "tom bowline," which was duly acknowledged and handed over to the musical people of concord for them to play and sing. it is a fine old pathetic sailor-song of dibdin's, which pleased thoreau (whose imagination delighted in the sea), and perhaps reminded him of his brother john. as thoreau sang it, the verses ran thus:-- "here a sheer hulk lies poor tom bowline, the darling of our crew; no more he'll hear the tempest howling, for death has broached him to. his form was of the manliest beauty; his heart was kind and soft; faithful, below, he did his duty, but now he's gone aloft. "tom never from his word departed, his virtues were so rare; his friends were many and true-hearted, his poll was kind and fair. and then he'd sing so blithe and jolly; ah, many's the time and oft! but mirth is changed to melancholy, for tom is gone aloft. "yet shall poor tom find pleasant weather when he who all commands shall give, to call life's crew together, the word to pipe all hands. thus death, who kings and tars dispatches, in vain tom's life has doffed; for though his body's under hatches, his soul is gone aloft!" another of his songs was moore's "canadian boat song," with its chorus,-- "row brothers, row." mrs. w. h. forbes, who knew him in her childhood, from the age of six to that of fifteen more particularly, and who first remembers him in his hut at walden, writes me:-- "the time when mr. thoreau was our more intimate playfellow must have been in the years from to . he used to come in, at dusk, as my brother and i sat on the rug before the dining-room fire, and, taking the great green rocking-chair, he would tell us stories. those i remember were his own adventures, as a child. he began with telling us of the different houses he had lived in, and what he could remember about each. the house where he was born was on the virginia road, near the old bedford road. the only thing he remembered about that house was that from its windows he saw a flock of geese walking along in a row on the other side of the road; but to show what a long memory he had, when he told his mother of this, she said the only time he could have seen that sight was, when he was about eight months old, for they left that house then. soon after, he lived in the old house on the lexington road, nearly opposite mr. emerson's. there he was tossed by a cow as he played near the door, in his red flannel dress,--and so on, with a story for every house. he used to delight us with the adventures of a brood of fall chickens, which slept at night in a tall old fashioned fig-drum in the kitchen, and as their bed was not changed when they grew larger, they packed themselves every night each in its own place, and grew up, not shapely, but shaped to each other and the drum, like figs! "sometimes he would play juggler tricks for us, and swallow his knife and produce it again from our ears or noses. we usually ran to bring some apples for him as soon as he came in, and often he would cut one in halves in fine points that scarcely showed on close examination, and then the joke was to ask father to break it for us and see it fall to pieces in his hands. but perhaps the evenings most charming were those when he brought some ears of pop-corn in his pocket and headed an expedition to the garret to hunt out the old brass warming-pan; in which he would put the corn, and hold it out and shake it over the fire till it was heated through, and at last, as we listened, the rattling changed to popping. when this became very brisk, he would hold the pan over the rug and lift the lid, and a beautiful fountain of the white corn flew all over us. it required both strength and patience to hold out the heavy warming-pan at arm's length so long, and no one else ever gave us that pleasure. "i remember his singing 'tom bowline' to us, and also playing on his flute, but that was earlier. in the summer he used to make willow whistles, and trumpets out of the stems of squash leaves, and onion leaves. when he found fine berries during his walks, he always remembered us, and came to arrange a huckleberrying for us. he took charge of the 'hay rigging' with the load of children, who sat on the floor which was spread with hay, covered with a buffalo-robe; he sat on a board placed across the front and drove, and led the frolic with his jokes and laughter as we jolted along, while the elders of the family accompanied us in a 'carryall.' either he had great tact and skill in managing us and keeping our spirits and play within bounds, or else he became a child in sympathy with us, for i do not remember a check or reproof from him, no matter how noisy we were. he always was most kind to me and made it his especial care to establish me in the 'thickest places,' as we used to call them. those sunny afternoons are bright memories, and the lamb-kill flowers and sweet 'everlasting,' always recall them and his kind care. once in awhile he took us on the river in his boat, a rare pleasure then; and i remember one brilliant autumn afternoon, when he took us to gather the wild grapes overhanging the river, and we brought home a load of crimson and golden boughs as well. he never took us to walk with him, but sometimes joined us for a little way, if he met us in the woods on sunday afternoons. he made those few steps memorable by showing us many wonders in so short a space: perhaps the only chincapin oak in concord, so hidden that no one but himself could have discovered it--or some remarkable bird, or nest, or flower. he took great interest in my garden of wild flowers, and used to bring me seeds, or roots, of rare plants. in his last illness it did not occur to us that he would care to see us, but his sister told my mother that he watched us from the window as we passed, and said: 'why don't they come to see me? i love them as if they were my own.' after that we went often, and he always made us so welcome that we liked to go. i remember our last meetings with as much pleasure as the old play-days." although so great a traveler in a small circle--being every day a-field when not too ill,--he was also a great stay-at-home. he never crossed the ocean, nor saw niagara or the mississippi until the year before his death. he lived within twenty miles of boston, but seldom went there, except to pass through it on his way to the maine woods, to cape cod, to the house of his friend, marston watson at plymouth, or to daniel ricketson's at new bedford. to the latter he wrote in february, :-- "i did not go to boston, for, with regard to that place i sympathize with one of my neighbors (george minott), an old man, who has not been there since the last war, when he was compelled to go. no, i have a real genius for staying at home." what took him from home in the winter season was generally some engagement to lecture, of which he had many after his walden life became a little known abroad. from the year thoreau may be said to have fairly entered on his career as author and lecturer; having taken all the needful degrees and endured most of the mortifications necessary for the public profession of authorship. up to that time he had supported himself, except while in college, chiefly by the labor of his hands; after , though still devoted to manual labor occasionally, he yet worked chiefly with his head as thinker, observer, surveyor, magazine contributor, and lecturer. his friends were the first promoters of his lectures, and among his correspondence are some letters from hawthorne, inviting him to the salem lyceum. the first of these letters is dated, salem, october , , and runs thus:-- "my dear sir,--the managers of the salem lyceum, sometime ago, voted that you should be requested to deliver a lecture before that institution during the approaching season. i know not whether mr. chever, the late corresponding secretary, communicated the vote to you; at all events, no answer has been received, and as mr. chever's successor in office, i am requested to repeat the invitation. permit me to add my own earnest wishes that you will accept it; and also, laying aside my official dignity, to express my wife's desire and my own that you will be our guest, if you do come. in case of your compliance, the managers desire to know at what time it will best suit you to deliver the lecture. "very truly yours, "nath^l hawthorne, "_cor. sec'y, salem lyceum_. "p.s. i live at no. mall street, where i shall be very happy to see you. the stated fee for lectures is $ ." a month later, hawthorne, who had received an affirmative answer from thoreau, wrote to him from boston (november , ), as follows:-- "my dear thoreau,--i did not sooner write you, because there were preëngagements for the two or three first lectures, so that i could not arrange matters to have you come during the present month. but, as it happens, the expected lectures have failed us, and we now depend on you to come the very next wednesday. i shall announce you in the paper of to-morrow, so you _must_ come. i regret that i could not give you longer notice. we shall expect you on wednesday at no. mall street. "yours truly, "nath^l hawthorne. "if it be utterly impossible for you to come, pray write me a line so that i may get it wednesday evening. but by all means come. "this secretaryship is an intolerable bore. i have traveled thirty miles, this wet day, on no other business." apparently another lecture was wanted by the salem people the same winter, for on the th of february, , when the "week on the concord and merrimac" was in press, hawthorne wrote again, thus:-- "the managers request that you will lecture before the salem lyceum on wednesday evening _after_ next, that is to say, on the th inst. may we depend on you? please to answer immediately, if convenient. mr. alcott delighted my wife and me, the other evening, by announcing that you had a book in press. i rejoice at it, and nothing doubt of such success as will be worth having. should your manuscripts all be in the printer's hands, i suppose you can reclaim one of them for a single evening's use, to be returned the next morning,--or perhaps that indian lecture, which you mentioned to me, is in a state of forwardness. either that, or a continuation of the walden experiment (or indeed, anything else), will be acceptable. we shall expect you at mall street. "very truly yours, "nath^l hawthorne." these letters were written just before hawthorne was turned out of his office in the salem custom-house, and while his own literary success was still in abeyance,--the "scarlet letter" not being published till a year later. they show the friendly terms on which hawthorne stood with the concord transcendentalists, after leaving that town in . he returned to it in , when he bought mr. alcott's estate, then called "hillside," which he afterward christened "wayside," and by this name it is still known. mr. alcott bought this place in , and from then till , when he left it to reside in boston, he expended, as hawthorne said, "a good deal of taste and some money in forming the hill-side behind the house into terraces, and building arbors and summer-houses of rough stems, and branches, and trees, on a system of his own." in this work he was aided by thoreau, who was then in the habit of performing much manual labor. in he joined mr. alcott in the task of cutting trees for mr. emerson's summer-house, which the three friends were to build in the garden. mr. emerson, however, went with them to the woods but one day, when finding his strength and skill unequal to that of his companions, he withdrew, and left the work to them. mr. alcott relates that thoreau was not only a master workman with the axe, but also had such strength of arm, that when a tree they were felling lodged in some unlucky position, he rushed at it, and by main strength carried out the trunk until it fell where he wanted it. it was one of the serious doctrines of the transcendentalists that each person should perform his quota of hand-work, and accordingly alcott, channing, hawthorne, and the rest, took their turn at wood-chopping, hay-making, plowing, tree-pruning, grafting, etc. even emerson trimmed his own orchard, and sometimes lent a hand in hoeing corn and raking hay. to thoreau such tasks were easy, and, unlike some amateur farmers, he was quite willing to be seen at his work, whatever it might be (except the pencil-making, in which there were certain secrets), and by choice he wore plain working clothes, and generally old ones. the fashion of his garments gave him no concern, and was often old, or even grotesque. at one time he had a fancy for corduroy, such as irish laborers then wore, but which occasionally appeared in the wardrobe of a gentleman. as he climbed trees, waded swamps, and was out in all weathers during his daily excursions, he naturally dressed himself for what he had to do. as may be inferred from his correspondence with horace greeley, thoreau's whole income from authorship during the twenty years that he practiced that profession, cannot have exceeded a few hundred dollars yearly,--not half enough in most years to supply even his few wants. he would never be indebted to any person pecuniarily, and therefore he found out other ways of earning his subsistence and paying his obligations,--gardening, fence-building, white-washing, pencil-making, land-surveying, etc.,--for he had great mechanical skill, and a patient, conscientious industry in whatever he undertook. when his father, who had been long living in other men's houses, undertook, at last, to build one of his own, henry worked upon it, and performed no small part of the manual labor. he had no false pride in such matters,--was, indeed, rather proud of his workmanship, and averse to the gentility even of his industrious village. during his first residence at mr. emerson's in - , thoreau managed the garden and did other hand-work for his friend; and when mr. emerson went to england in , he returned to the house (soon after leaving his walden hut), and took charge of his friend's household affairs in his absence. in a letter to his sister sophia (october , ), thoreau says:-- "... i went to boston the th of this month to see mr. emerson off to europe. he sailed in the 'washington irving' packet ship, the same in which mr. hedge went before him. up to this trip, the first mate aboard this ship was, as i hear, one stephens, a concord boy, son of stephens, the carpenter, who used to live above mr. dennis. mr. emerson's state-room was like a carpeted dark closet, about six feet square, with a large keyhole for a window (the window was about as big as a saucer, and the glass two inches thick), not to mention another skylight overhead in the deck, of the size of an oblong doughnut, and about as opaque. of course, it would be in vain to look up, if any contemplative promenader put his foot upon it. such will be his lodgings for two or three weeks; and instead of a walk in walden woods, he will take a promenade on deck, where the few trees, you know, are stripped of their bark." there is a poem of thoreau's, of uncertain date, called "the departure," which, as i suppose, expresses his emotions at leaving finally, in , the friendly house of emerson, where he had dwelt so long, upon terms of such ideal intimacy. it was never seen by his friends, so far as i can learn, until after his death, when sophia thoreau gave it to me, along with other poems, for publication in the "boston commonwealth," in . since then it has been mentioned as a poem written in anticipation of death. this is not so; it was certainly written long before his illness. "in this roadstead i have ridden, in this covert i have hidden: friendly thoughts were cliffs to me, and i hid beneath their lee. "this true people took the stranger, and warm-hearted housed the ranger; they received their roving guest, and have fed him with the best; "whatsoe'er the land afforded to the stranger's wish accorded,-- shook the olive, stripped the vine, and expressed the strengthening wine. "and by night they did spread o'er him what by day they spread before him; that good will which was repast was his covering at last. "the stranger moored him to their pier without anxiety or fear; by day he walked the sloping land,-- by night the gentle heavens he scanned. "when first his bark stood inland to the coast of that far finland, sweet-watered brooks came tumbling to the shore, the weary mariner to restore. "and still he stayed from day to day, if he their kindness might repay; but more and more the sullen waves came rolling toward the shore. "and still, the more the stranger waited, the less his argosy was freighted; and still the more he stayed, the less his debt was paid. "so he unfurled his shrouded mast to receive the fragrant blast,-- and that same refreshing gale which had woo'd him to remain again and again;-- it was that filled his sail and drove him to the main. "all day the low hung clouds dropped tears into the sea, and the wind amid the shrouds sighed plaintively." chapter xii. poet, moralist, and philosopher. the character of poet is so high and so rare, in any modern civilization, and specially in our american career of nationality, that it behooves us to mark and claim all our true poets, before they are classified under some other name,--as philosophers, naturalists, romancers, or historians. thus emerson is primarily and chiefly a poet, and only a philosopher in his second intention; and thus also thoreau, though a naturalist by habit, and a moralist by constitution, was inwardly a poet by force of that shaping and controlling imagination, which was his strongest faculty. his mind tended naturally to the ideal side. he would have been an idealist in any circumstances; a fluent and glowing poet, had he been born among a people to whom poesy is native, like the greeks, the italians, the irish. as it was, his poetic light illumined every wide prospect and every narrow cranny in which his active, patient spirit pursued its task. it was this inward illumination as well as the star-like beam of emerson's genius in "nature," which caused thoreau to write in his senior year at college, "this curious world which we inhabit is more wonderful than it is convenient; more beautiful than it is useful," and he cherished this belief through life. in youth, too, he said, "the other world is all my art, my pencils will draw no other, my jack-knife will cut nothing else; i do not use it as a means." it was in this spirit that he afterwards uttered the quaint parable, which was his version of the primitive legend of the golden age:-- "i long ago lost a hound, a bay horse, and a turtle-dove, and am still on their trail. many are the travelers i have spoken concerning them, describing their tracks and what calls they answered to. i have met one or two who had heard the hound, and the tramp of the horse, and even seen the dove disappear behind the cloud; and they seemed as anxious to recover them as if they had lost them themselves." in the same significance read his little-known verses, "the pilgrims." "when i have slumbered i have heard sounds as of travelers passing these my grounds. "'t was a sweet music wafted them by, i could not tell if afar off or nigh. "unless i dreamed it this was of yore; i never told it to mortal before. "never remembered but in my dreams, what to me waking a miracle seems." it seems to have been the habit of thoreau, in writing verse, to compose a couplet, a quatrain, or other short metrical expression, copy it in his journal, and afterward, when these verses had grown to a considerable number, to arrange them in the form of a single piece. this gives to his poems the epigrammatic air which most of them have. after he was thirty years old, he wrote scarcely any verse, and he even destroyed much that he had previously written, following in this the judgment of mr. emerson, rather than his own, as he told me one day during his last illness. he had read all that was best in english and in greek poetry, but was more familiar with the english poets of milton's time and earlier, than with those more recent, except his own townsmen and companions. he valued milton above shakespeare, and had a special love for Æschylus, two of whose tragedies he translated. he had read pindar, simonides, and the greek anthology, and wrote, at his best, as well as the finest of the greek lyric poets. even emerson, who was a severe critic of his verses, says, "his classic poem on 'smoke' suggests simonides, but is better than any poem of simonides." indeed, what greek would not be proud to claim this fragment as his own? "light winged smoke, icarian bird! melting thy pinions in thy upward flight, lark without song, and messenger of dawn,-- * * * * * go thou, my incense, upward from this hearth, and ask the gods to pardon this clear flame." no complete collection of thoreau's poems has ever been made. amid much that is harsh and crude, such a book would contain many verses sure to survive for centuries. as a moralist, the bent of thoreau is more clearly seen by most readers; and on this side, too, he was early and strongly charged. in a college essay of are these sentences:-- "truth neither exalteth nor humbleth herself. she is not too high for the low, nor yet too low for the high. she is persuasive, not litigious, leaving conscience to decide. she never sacrificeth her dignity that she may secure for herself a favorable reception. it is not a characteristic of truth to use men tenderly; nor is she overanxious about appearances." in another essay of the same year he wrote:-- "the order of things should be reversed: the seventh should be man's day of toil, in which to earn his living by the sweat of his brow, and the other six his sabbath of the affections and the soul, in which to range this wide-spread garden, and drink in the soft influences and sublime revelations of nature." this was an anticipation of his theory of labor and leisure set forth in "walden," where he says:-- "for more than five years i maintained myself solely by the labor of my hands, and i found that, by working about six weeks in a year, i could meet all the expenses of living; the whole of my winters, as well as most of my summers, i had free and clear for study. i found that the occupation of day-laborer was the most independent of any, especially as it required only thirty or forty days in the year to support one." this was true of thoreau, because, as he said, his "greatest skill had been to want but little." in him this economy was a part of morality, or even of religion. "the high moral impulse," says channing, "never deserted him, and he resolved early to read no book, take no walk, undertake no enterprise, but such as he could endure to give an account of to himself." how early this austerity appeared in what he wrote, has been little noticed; but i discover it in his earliest college essays, before he was eighteen years old. thus, in such a paper of the year , this passage occurs:-- "there appears to be something noble, something exalted, in giving up one's own interest for that of his fellow-beings. he is a true patriot, who, casting aside all selfish thoughts, and not suffering his benevolent intentions to be polluted by thinking of the fame he is acquiring, presses forward in the great work he has undertaken, with unremitted zeal; who is as one pursuing his way through a garden abounding with fruits of every description, without turning aside, or regarding the brambles which impede his progress, but pressing onward with his eyes fixed upon the golden fruit before him. he is worthy of all praise; his is, indeed, true greatness." in contrast with this man the young philosopher sets before us the man who wishes, as the greeks said, _pleonektein_,--to get more than his square meal at the banquet of life. "aristocrats may say what they please,--liberty and equal rights are and ever will be grateful, till nature herself shall change; and he who is ambitious to exercise authority over his fellow-beings, with no view to their benefit or injury, is to be regarded as actuated by peculiarly selfish motives. self-gratification must be his sole object. perhaps he is desirous that his name may be handed down to posterity; that in after ages something more may be said of him than that he lived and died. his deeds may never be forgotten; but is this greatness? if so, may i pass through life unheeded and unknown!" what was his own ambition--a purpose in life which only the unthinking could ever confound with selfishness--was expressed by him early in a prayer which he threw into this verse:-- "great god! i ask thee for no meaner pelf, than that i may not disappoint myself; that in my conduct i may soar as high as i can now discern with this clear eye. that my weak hand may equal my firm faith, and my life practice more than my tongue saith; that my low conduct may not show, nor my relenting lines, that i thy purpose did not know, or overrated thy designs." and it may be said of him that he acted this prayer as well as uttered it. says channing again:-- "in our estimate of his character, the moral qualities form the basis; for himself rigidly enjoined; if in another, he could overlook delinquency. truth before all things; in all your thoughts, your faintest breath, the austerest purity, the utmost fulfilling of the interior law; faith in friends, and an iron and flinty pursuit of right, which nothing can tease or purchase out of us." thus it is said that when he went to prison rather than pay his tax, which went to support slavery in south carolina, and his friend emerson came to the cell and said, "henry, why are you here?" the reply was, "why are you _not_ here?" in this act, which even his best friends at first denounced as "mean and sneaking and in bad taste,"--this refusal to pay the trifling sum demanded of him by the concord tax-gatherer,--the outlines of his political philosophy appear. they were illuminated afterwards by his trenchant utterances in denunciation of slavery and in encomium of john brown, who attacked that monster in its most vulnerable part. it was not mere whim, but a settled theory of human nature and the institution of government, which led him, in , to renounce the parish church and refuse to pay its tax, in to renounce the state and refuse tribute to it, and in to come forward, first of all men, in public support of brown and his virginia campaign. this theory found frequent expression in his lectures. in he said:-- "any man more right than his neighbors constitutes a majority of one already." and again:-- "i know this well, that if one thousand, if one hundred, if ten men whom i could name,--if ten _honest_ men only,--ay, if one honest man, _ceasing to hold slaves_, were actually to withdraw from this copartnership, and be locked up in the county jail therefor, it would be the abolition of slavery in america. under a government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison." this sounded hollow then, but when that embodiment of american justice and mercy, john brown, lay bleeding in a virginia prison, a dozen years later, the significance of thoreau's words began to be seen; and when a few years after our countrymen were dying by hundreds of thousands to complete what brown, with his single life, had begun, the whole truth, as thoreau had seen it, flashed in the eyes of the nation. in this same essay of , on "civil disobedience," the ultimate truth concerning government is stated in a passage which also does justice to daniel webster, our "logic-fencer and parliamentary hercules," as carlyle called him in a letter to emerson in . thoreau said:-- "statesmen and legislators, standing so completely within the institution (of government) never distinctly and nakedly behold it. they speak of moving society, but have no resting-place without it. they are wont to forget that the world is not governed by policy and expediency. webster never goes behind government, and so cannot speak with authority about it. his words are wisdom to those legislators who contemplate no essential reform in the existing government; but for thinkers, and those who legislate for all time, he never once glances at the subject. yet compared with the cheap professions of most reformers, and the still cheaper wisdom and eloquence of politicians in general, his are almost the only sensible and valuable words, and we thank heaven for him. comparatively, he is always strong, original, and, above all, practical; still his quality is not wisdom, but prudence. truth is always in harmony with herself, and is not concerned chiefly to reveal the justice that may consist with wrong-doing. for eighteen hundred years the new testament has been written; yet where is the legislator who has wisdom and practical talent enough to avail himself of the light which it sheds on the science of government?" such a legislator, proclaiming his law from the scaffold, at last appeared in john brown:-- "i see a book kissed here which i suppose to be the bible, or at least the new testament. that teaches me that 'whatsoever i would that men should do unto me, i should do even so to them.' it teaches me further to 'remember them that are in bonds as bound with them.' i endeavored to act up to that instruction. i say that i am yet too young to understand that god is any respecter of persons. i believe that, to have interfered as i have done in behalf of his despised poor, was not wrong, but right." before these simple words of brown, down went webster and all his industry in behalf of the "compromises of the constitution." when thoreau heard them, and saw the matchless behavior of his noble old friend, he recognized the hour and the man. "for once," he cried in the church-vestry at concord, "we are lifted into the region of truth and manhood. no man, in america, has ever stood up so persistently and effectively for the dignity of human nature; knowing himself for a man, and the equal of any and all governments. the only government that i recognize,--and it matters not how few are at the head of it, or how small its army,--is that power which establishes justice in the land." words like these have proved immortal when spoken in the cell of socrates, and they lose none of their vitality, coming from the concord philosopher. the weakness of webster was in his moral principles; he could not resist temptation; could not keep out of debt; could not avoid those obligations which the admiration or the selfishness of his friends forced upon him, and which left him, in his old age, neither independence nor gratitude. thoreau's strength was in his moral nature, and in his obstinate refusal to mortgage himself, his time, or his opinions, even to the state or the church. the haughtiness of his independence kept him from a thousand temptations that beset men of less courage and self-denial. chapter xiii. life, death, and immortality. the life of thoreau naturally divides itself into three parts: his apprenticeship, from birth to the summer of , when he left harvard college; his journey-work (wanderjahre) from to , when he appeared as an author, with his first book; and his mastership,--not of a college, a merchantman, or a mechanic art, but of the trade and mystery of writing. he had aspired to live and study and practice, so that he could write--to use his own words--"sentences which suggest far more than they say, which have an atmosphere about them, which do not report an old, but make a new impression." to frame such sentences as these, he said, "as durable as a roman aqueduct," was the art of writing coveted by him; "sentences which are expressive, towards which so many volumes, so much life went; which lie like boulders on the page, up and down or across,--not mere repetition, but creation, and which a man might sell his ground or cattle to build." it was this thirst for final and concentrated expression, and not love of fame, or "literary aspirations," as poor greeley put it, which urged him on to write. for printing he cared little,--and few authors since shakespeare have been less anxious to publish what they wrote. of the seven volumes of his works first printed, and twenty more which may be published some day, only two, "the week" and "walden," appeared in his lifetime,--though the material for two more had been scattered about in forgotten magazines and newspapers, for his friends to collect after his death. of his first works (and some of his best) it could be said, as thomas wharton said, in , of his friend gray's verses, "i yet reflect with pain upon the cool reception which those noble odes, 'the progress of poetry' and 'the bard' met with at their first publication; it appeared there were not twenty people in england who liked them." this disturbed thoreau's friends, but not himself; he rather rejoiced in the slow sale of his first book; and when the balance of the edition,--more than seven hundred copies out of one thousand,--came back upon his hands unsold in , and earlier, he told me with glee that he had made an addition of seven hundred volumes to his library, and all of his own composition. "o solitude, obscurity, meanness!" he exclaims in to his friend blake, "i never triumph so as when i have the least success in my neighbors' eyes." of course, pride had something to do with this; "it was a wild stock of pride," as burke said of lord keppel, "on which the tenderest of all hearts had grafted the milder virtues." both pride and piety led him to write,-- "fame cannot tempt the bard who's famous with his god, nor laurel him reward who has his maker's nod." though often ranked as an unbeliever, and too scornful in some of his expressions concerning the religion of other men, thoreau was in truth deeply religious. sincerity and devotion were his most marked traits; and both are seen in his verses from the same poem ("inspiration") so often quoted:-- "i will then trust the love untold which not my worth or want hath bought,-- which wooed me young and wooes me old, and to this evening hath me brought." thoreau's business in life was observation, thought, and writing, to which last, reading was essential. he read much, but studied more; nor was his reading that indiscriminate, miscellaneous perusal of everything printed, which has become the vice of this age. he read books of travel, scientific books, authors of original merit, but few newspapers, of which he had a very poor opinion. "read not the 'times,' read the eternities," he said. nor did he admire the magazines, or their editors, greatly. he quarreled with "putnam's magazine," in - , and in , after yielding to the suggestion of mr. emerson, that he should contribute to the "atlantic," in consequence of a dispute with mr. lowell, its editor, about the omission of a sentence in one of his articles, he published no more in that magazine until the year of his death ( ), when mr. fields obtained from him some of his choicest manuscripts. he spent the last months of his life in revising these, and they continued to appear for some years after his death. those which were published in the "atlantic" in are passages from his journals, selected by his friend blake, who long had the custody of his manuscripts. these consist chiefly of his journals in thirty-nine volumes, many parts of which had already been printed, either by thoreau himself, by his sister sophia, or his friend channing, who, in , published a life of thoreau, containing many extracts from the journals, which had never before been printed. when we speak of his works, we should include mr. channing's book also, half of which, at least, is from thoreau's pen. his method in writing was peculiarly his own, though it bore some external resemblance to that of his friends, emerson and alcott. like them he early began to keep a journal, which became both diary and commonplace book. but while they noted down the thoughts which occurred to them, without premeditation or consecutive arrangement, thoreau made studies and observations for his journal as carefully and habitually as he noted the angles and distances in surveying a concord farm. in all his daily walks and distant journeys, he took notes on the spot of what occurred to him, and these, often very brief and symbolic, he carefully wrote out, as soon as he could get time, in his diary, not classified by topics, but just as they had come to him. to these he added his daily meditations, sometimes expressed in verse, especially in the years between and , but generally in close and pertinent prose. many details are found in his diaries, but not such as are common in the diaries of other men,--not trivial but significant details. from these daily entries he made up his essays, his lectures, and his volumes; all being slowly, and with much deliberation and revision, brought into the form in which he gave them to the public. after that he scarcely changed them at all; they had received the last imprint of his mind, and he allowed them to stand and speak for themselves. but before printing, they underwent constant change, by addition, erasure, transposition, correction, and combination. a given lecture might be two years, or twenty years in preparation; or it might be, like his defense of john brown, copied with little change from the pages of his diary for the fortnight previous. but that was an exceptional case; and thoreau was stirred and quickened by the campaign and capture of brown, as perhaps he had never been before. "the thought of that man's position and fate," he said, "is spoiling many a man's day here at the north for other thinking. if any one who has seen john brown in concord, can pursue successfully any other train of thought, i do not know what he is made of. if there is any such who gets his usual allowance of sleep, i will warrant him to fatten easily under any circumstances which do not touch his body or purse. i put a piece of paper and a pencil under my pillow, and when i could not sleep, i wrote in the dark. i was so absorbed in him as to be surprised whenever i detected the routine of the natural world surviving still, or met persons going about their affairs indifferent." the fact that thoreau noted down his thoughts by night as well as by day, appears also from an entry in one of his journals, where he is describing the coming on of day, as witnessed by him at the close of a september night in concord. "some bird flies over," he writes, "making a noise like the barking of a puppy (it was a cuckoo). it is yet so dark that i have dropped my pencil and cannot find it." no writer of modern times, in fact, was so much awake and abroad at night, or has described better the phenomena of darkness and of moonlight. it is interesting to note some dates and incidents concerning a few of thoreau's essays. the celebrated chapter on "friendship," in the "week," was written in the winter of - , soon after he left walden, and while he was a member of mr. emerson's household during the absence of his friend in europe. on the th of january, , mr. alcott notes in his diary:-- "henry thoreau came in after my hours with the children, and we had a good deal of talk on the modes of popular influence. he read me a manuscript essay of his on 'friendship,' which he has just written, and which i thought superior to anything i had heard." to the same period or a little later belong those verses called "the departure," which declare, under a similitude, thoreau's relations with one family of his friends. in , when he first met henry james, lucretia mott, and others who have since been famous, in the pleasant seclusion of staten island, he wrote a translation of the "seven against thebes," which has never been printed, some translations from pindar, printed in the "dial," in , and two articles for the new york "democratic review," called "paradise to be regained," and "the landlord." thoreau left "a vast amount of manuscript," in the words of his sister, who was his literary executor until her death in , when she committed her trust to his worcester friend, mr. harrison blake. she was aided in the revision and publication of the "excursions," "maine woods," "letters," and other volumes which she issued from to , by mr. emerson, mr. channing, and other friends,--mr. emerson having undertaken that selection of letters and poems from his mass of correspondence and his preserved verses, which appeared in . his purpose, as he said to miss thoreau, was to exhibit in that volume "a most perfect piece of stoicism," and he fancied that she had "marred his classic statue" by inserting some tokens of natural affection which the domestic letters showed. miss thoreau said that "it did not seem quite honest to henry" to leave out such passages; mr. fields, the publisher, agreed with her, and a few of them were retained. his correspondence, as a whole, is much more affectionate, and less pugnacious than would appear from the published volume. he was fond of dispute, but those who knew him best loved him most. of his last illness his sister said:-- "it was not possible to be sad in his presence. no shadow of gloom attaches to anything in my mind connected with my precious brother. he has done much to strengthen the faith of his friends. henry's whole life impresses me as a grand miracle." walking once with mr. alcott, soon after he passed his eightieth birth day, as we faced the lovely western sky in december, the old pythagorean said, "i always think of thoreau when i look at a sunset;" and i then remembered it was at that hour thoreau usually walked along the village street, under the arch of trees, with the sunset sky seen through their branches. "he said to me in his last illness," added alcott, "'i shall leave the world without a regret,'--that was the saying either of a grand egotist or of a deeply religious soul." thoreau was both, and both his egotism and his devotion offended many of those who met him. his aversion to the companionship of men was partly religious--a fondness for the inward life--and partly egotism and scorn for frivolity. "emerson says his life is so unprofitable and shabby for the most part," writes thoreau in , "that he is driven to all sorts of resources,--and among the rest to men. i tell him we differ only in our resources: mine is to get away from men. they very rarely affect me as grand or beautiful; but i know that there is a sunrise and a sunset every day. i have seen more men than usual lately; and well as i was acquainted with one, i am surprised to find what vulgar fellows they are." in he wrote to mr. blake:-- "i have lately got back to that glorious society called solitude, where we meet our friends continually, and can imagine the outside world also to be peopled. yet some of my acquaintance would fain hustle me into the almshouse for _the sake of society_; as if i were pining for that diet, when i seem to myself a most befriended man, and find constant employment. however, they do not believe a word i say. they have got a club, the handle of which is in the parker house, at boston, and with this they beat me from time to time, expecting to make me tender, or minced meat, and so fit for a club to dine off. the doctors are all agreed that i am suffering for want of society. was never a case like it! first, i did not know that i was suffering at all. secondly, as an irishman might say, i had thought it was indigestion of the society i got." yet thoreau knew the value of society, and avoided it oftentimes only because he was too busy. to his friend ricketson, who reproached him for ceasing to answer letters, he wrote in november, , just before he took the fatal cold that terminated in consumption and ended his life prematurely:-- "friend ricketson,--you know that i never promised to correspond with you, and so, when i do, i do more than i promised. such are my pursuits and habits, that i rarely go abroad; and it is quite a habit with me to decline invitations to do so. not that i could not enjoy such visits, if i were not otherwise occupied. i have enjoyed very much my visits to you, and my rides in your neighborhood, and am sorry that i cannot enjoy such things oftener; but life is short, and there are other things also to be done. i admit that you are more social than i am, and more attentive to 'the common courtesies of life;' but this is partly for the reason that you have fewer or less exacting private pursuits. not to have written a note for a year is with me a very venial offense. i think i do not correspond with any one so often as once in six months. i have a faint recollection of your invitation referred to; but i suppose i had no new or particular reason for declining, and so made no new statement. i have felt that you would be glad to see me almost whenever i got ready to come; but i only offer myself as a rare visitor, and a still rarer correspondent. i am very busy, after my fashion, little as there is to show for it, and feel as if i could not spend many days nor dollars in traveling; for the shortest visit must have a fair margin to it, and the days thus affect the weeks, you know. "nevertheless, we cannot forego these luxuries altogether. please remember me to your family. i have a very pleasant recollection of your fireside, and i trust that i shall revisit it; also of your shanty and the surrounding regions." he did make a last visit to this friend in august, , after his return from minnesota, whither he went with young horace mann, in june. and it was to mr. ricketson that sophia thoreau, two weeks after her brother's death, wrote the following account of his last illness:-- "concord, _may , _. "dear friend,--profound joy mingles with my grief. i feel as if something very beautiful had happened,--not death. although henry is with us no longer, yet the memory of his sweet and virtuous soul must ever cheer and comfort me. my heart is filled with praise to god for the gift of such a brother, and may i never distrust the love and wisdom of him who made him, and who has now called him to labor in more glorious fields than earth affords! "you ask for some particulars relating to henry's illness. i feel like saying that henry was never affected, never reached by it. i never before saw such a manifestation of the power of spirit over matter. very often i have heard him tell his visitors that he enjoyed existence as well as ever. he remarked to me that there was as much comfort in perfect disease as in perfect health, the mind always conforming to the condition of the body. the thought of death, he said, could not begin to trouble him. his thoughts had entertained him all his life, and did still. when he had wakeful nights, he would ask me to arrange the furniture, so as to make fantastic shadows on the wall, and he wished his bed was in the form of a shell that he might curl up in it. he considered occupation as necessary for the sick as for those in health, and has accomplished a vast amount of labor during the past few months, in preparing some papers for the press. he did not cease to call for his manuscript till the last day of his life. during his long illness i never heard a murmur escape him, or the slightest wish expressed to remain with us. his perfect contentment was truly wonderful. none of his friends seemed to realize how very ill he was, so full of life and good cheer did he seem. one friend, as if by way of consolation, said to him, 'well, mr. thoreau, we must all go.' henry replied, 'when i was a very little boy, i learned that i must die, and i set that down, so, of course, i am not disappointed now. death is as near to you as it is to me.' "there is very much that i should like to write you about my precious brother had i time and strength. i wish you to know how very gentle, lovely, and submissive he was in all his ways. his little study bed was brought down into our front parlor, when he could no longer walk with our assistance, and every arrangement pleased him. the devotion of his friends was most rare and touching. his room was made fragrant by the gifts of flowers from young and old. fruit of every kind which the season afforded, and game of all sorts, were sent him. it was really pathetic, the way in which the town was moved to minister to his comfort. total strangers sent grateful messages, remembering the good he had done them. all this attention was fully appreciated and very gratifying to henry. he would sometimes say, 'i should be ashamed to stay in this world after so much has been done for me. i could never repay my friends.' and they remembered him to the last. only about two hours before he left us, judge hoar called with a bouquet of hyacinths fresh from his garden, which henry smelt and said he liked, and a few minutes after he was gone another friend came with a dish of his favorite jelly. i can never be grateful enough for the gentle, easy exit which was granted him. at seven o'clock, tuesday morning, he became restless, and desired to be moved. dear mother, aunt louisa, and myself were with him. his self-possession did not forsake him. a little after eight he asked to be raised quite up. his breathing grew fainter and fainter, and without the slightest struggle, he left us at nine o'clock,--but not alone; our heavenly father was with us. "your last letter reached us by the evening mail on monday. henry asked me to read it to him, which i did. he enjoyed your letters, and felt disappointed not to see you again. mr. blake and mr. brown came twice to visit him, since january. they were present at his funeral, which took place in the church. mr. emerson read such an address as no other man could have done. it is a source of great satisfaction that one so gifted knew and loved my brother, and is prepared to speak such brave words about him at this time. the 'atlantic monthly' for july will contain mr. emerson's memories of henry. i hope that you saw a notice of the services on friday, written by mr. fields, in the 'transcript.' "let me thank you for your very friendly letters. i trust we shall see you in concord, anniversary week. it would give me pleasure to make the acquaintance of your family, of whom my brother has so often told me. if convenient, will you please bring the ambrotype of henry which was taken last autumn in new bedford. i am interested to see it. mr. channing will take the crayon likeness to boston this week to secure some photographs. my intention was to apologize for not writing you at this time; but i must now trust to your generosity to pardon this hasty letter, written under a great pressure of cares and amidst frequent interruptions. my mother unites with me in very kind regards to your family. "yours truly, "s. e. thoreau." to parker pillsbury, who would fain talk with thoreau in this last winter concerning the next world, the reply was, "one world at a time." to a young friend (myron benton) he wrote a few weeks before death:-- "concord, _march , _. "dear sir,--i thank you for your very kind letter, which, ever since i received it, i have intended to answer before i died, however briefly. i am encouraged to know, that, so far as you are concerned, i have not written my books in vain. i was particularly gratified, some years ago, when one of my friends and neighbors said, 'i wish you would write another book--write it for me.' he is actually more familiar with what i have written than i am myself. i am pleased when you say that in 'the week' you like especially 'those little snatches of poetry interspersed through the book;' for these, i suppose, are the least attractive to most readers. i have not been engaged in any particular work on botany, or the like, though, if i were to live, i should have much to report on natural history generally. "you ask particularly after my health. i _suppose_ that i have not many months to live; but, of course, i know nothing about it. i may add, that i am enjoying existence as much as ever, and regret nothing. "yours truly, henry d. thoreau, "by sophia e. thoreau." "with an unfaltering trust in god's mercies," wrote ellery channing, "and never deserted by his good genius, he most bravely and unsparingly passed down the inclined plane of a terrible malady--pulmonary consumption; working steadily at the completing of his papers to his last hours, or so long as he could hold the pencil in his trembling fingers. yet if he did get a little sleep to comfort him in this year's campaign of sleepless affliction, he was sure to interest those about him in his singular dreams, more than usually fantastic. he said once, that having got a few moments of repose, 'sleep seemed to hang round his bed in festoons.' he declared uniformly that he preferred to endure with a clear mind the worst penalties of suffering rather than be plunged in a turbid dream by narcotics. his patience was unfailing; assuredly he knew not aught save resignation; he did mightily cheer and console those whose strength was less. his every instant now, his least thought and work, sacredly belonged to them, dearer than his rapidly perishing life, whom he should so quickly leave behind." once or twice he shed tears. upon hearing a wandering musician in the street playing some tune of his childhood he might never hear again, he wept, and said to his mother, "give him some money for me!" "northward he turneth through a little door, and scarce three steps, ere music's golden tongue, flattered to tears this aged man and poor; but no--already had his death-bell rung, the joys of all his life were said and sung." he died on the th of may, , and had a public funeral from the parish church a few days later. on his coffin his friend channing placed several inscriptions, among them this, "hail to thee, o man! who hast come from the transitory place to the imperishable." this sentiment may stand as faintly marking thoreau's deep, vital conviction of immortality, of which he never had entertained a doubt in his life. there was in his view of the world and its maker no room for doubt; so that when he was once asked, superfluously, what he thought of a future world and its compensations, he replied, "those were voluntaries i did not take,"--having confined himself to the foreordained course of things. he is buried in the village cemetery, quaintly named "sleepy hollow," with his family and friends about him; one of whom, surviving him for a few years, said, as she looked upon his low head-stone on the hillside, "concord is henry's monument, covered with suitable inscriptions by his own hand." index. academy, concord, . acton, originally a part of concord, . adams, john quincy, . adams, samuel, . african slaves in concord, - . agassiz, louis, , , . agricola at marseilles, . alcott, a. bronson, sonnet on thoreau, v.; born in connecticut, ; at concord lyceum, ; visits dr. ripley, ; in old age, ; goes to live in concord, ; helps "raise" thoreau's hut, ; his school of philosophy, ; an early transcendentalist, ; his paradise at fruitlands, - ; a friend of john brown, ; plan of living in concord woods, ; builds a summer-house for emerson, ; his friendship with thoreau, ; his conversations, , , , ; from his diary, , , ; peddler in virginia, , ; visits horace greeley, ; harbors a fugitive slave, ; lends thoreau his axe, ; goes to the opera with greeley, ; with thoreau in new bedford, ; his opinion of thoreau, . alcott, louisa, , . allston, washington, visits concord, . american literature, thoreau's view of, . american slavery, thoreau's opposition to, , , ; john brown's attack upon, , . assabet river, , , , . ball, b. w., . bangor, , , . barnes, lucy, , . barrett, humphrey, a concord farmer, , , , . barrett, joseph, - . bartlett, dr. josiah, , . bartlett, robert, . bedford (the town), , . bedford road, , . betsey (thoreau), , . bigelow, dr. h. j., . blake, harrison, , , , . bliss, rev. daniel, , , , . bliss, daniel, the tory, , . bliss, phebe, , . boston, the home of john thoreau, the jerseyman, , ; of henry thoreau, ; birth-place of emerson, . boston miscellany, . bowen, prof. francis, . bradford, george p., . bradford, gershom, . bremer, frederika, . brisbane, albert, , . brister's hill, . brister, a freedman, , , . brook farm, , . brooks, nathan, , , , , . brooks, mrs. nathan, . brown, john, of osawatomie, , , , , , , , . brown, mrs., of plymouth, . brownson, orestes a., . bruno, giordano, quoted, . bulkley family in concord, , , . burke, edmund, quoted, . buttrick, major, . cambridge, thoreau's residence in, ; letters from, , ; thoreau's visit to, . campbell, sir archibald, . canada, thoreau's excursion to, , . cape cod, , . carlyle, thomas, , , , ; thoreau's essay on, - . channing, rev. dr., , , . channing, ellery (the poet), , , - , , , , , - ; his lines on emerson, ; on thoreau, , ; quoted, - ; his friendship for thoreau, - ; his verses on hawthorne, ; his house, ; his letters to thoreau, , ; calls thoreau idolon, ; and rudolpho, ; visits monadnoc, ; describes thoreau, , , , ; his biography of thoreau, , , . channing, rev. w. h., , , , . chapman, dr., . chappaqua, . cheney, mrs., of concord, , . cohasset, , . columella, . concord (town of) described, - ; celebrities, - , - ; farmers, - ; lyceum, , , ; as a transcendental capital, , , ; the home of channing and thoreau, ; localities, - ; freedmen, ; jail, ; the monument to thoreau, . concord fight, , , , , . concord grape, . concord river, , , , , , , , , , , . concord village, , ; trade in, ; customs of, , , , , , , , , . connecticut, , , , . corner, nine-acre, , , . davenant, sir william, , . "departure, the," , . dial, the, , , , , , , , , . diana, ascription to, . dunbar, rev. asa, , , . dunbar, charles, uncle of thoreau, - , , . dunbar, cynthia (mother of thoreau), , , , , - , , , , , . dunbar, louisa, - , . edwards, jonathan, quoted, . "egomites," . emerson, charles, . emerson, miss mary, , , . emerson, ralph waldo, born in boston, ; a descendant of concord ministers, ; quoted, ; began to lecture in concord, ; begins acquaintance with thoreau, ; goes to live in concord, ; draws people there, ; describes dr. ripley, - ; describes the "concord fight," ; on captain hardy, , ; goes to europe, ; his "forester," ; his proposition for an international magazine, ; on thoreau's acquaintance with nature, , ; on thoreau's patience in observation, ; his relations with thoreau, ; his summer-house, , ; tries to work in the woods, ; praises thoreau's "smoke," ; gives his funeral eulogy, . emerson, william, . endymion of concord, . essays of thoreau, in college, - ; "effect of story telling," ; "l'allegro and il penseroso," ; "national characteristics," ; "paley's common reasons," ; "punishment," ; "source of our feeling for the sublime," ; "simplicity of style," . everett, edward, . fairhaven cliffs, . fenda, the fortune teller, . fields, james t., , . forbes, mrs. w. h., recollections of thoreau, - . "forester, the," verse by emerson, . "fruitlands," in harvard, - . fugitive slave, in concord, . fuller, margaret, in concord, ; criticises thoreau's poems, - ; rejects a prose article by him, ; her character, ; in cambridge, ; at a conversation, ; visit to europe, marriage, and death, ; writes for the "tribune," and lives with h. greeley, . gardiner, dr., , . garfield, his ancestors, . gilman, rev. nicholas, - . goodwin, rev. h. b., . graham, george r., , . graham's magazine, , . graveyard in lincoln, . greeley, horace, as mæcenas, ; editor of the "tribune," ; described by margaret fuller, ; his correspondence with thoreau, - , - ; invites thoreau to chappaqua, satirized by w. e. channing, . griswold, r. w., , . hafiz, quoted, . hamilton, alexander, . hampden, john, . hardy, captain, - . harvard magazine, . hawthorne, nathaniel, moves and removes to concord, ; quoted, ; channing's verses on, ; emerson's influence on, ; his "scarlet letter," ; invites thoreau to lecture in salem, ; returns to concord, ; returns thither from europe, . herald's office, london, . heywood, dr. abiel, , - . heywood, george, . hildreth, s. t., . hoar, e. r., , . hoar, edward, . hoar, miss elizabeth, . hoar, mrs. samuel, . hoar, samuel, , , , , . hollowell farm, , _note_, . hosmer cottage, . hosmer, cyrus, . hosmer, edmund, - . hosmer, james, . hosmer, joseph (the major), , , , , , , . hosmer, lucy, . hurd, dr. isaac, . icarus, . indians, (american), , , . ingraham, cato, a slave, . ingraham, duncan, - . jack, john, a negro, ; epitaph on, . jackson, dr. c. t., , . james, henry, . jarvis, deacon francis, , . jarvis, dr. edward, . jersey, isle of, - . journal of thoreau, , , , . ktaadn, and thoreau's visit there, , , , . keene, n. h., . kosta, martin, . lane, charles, - . lee family, ; their farm and hill, . letters from maria thoreau, ; from d. webster, ; from josiah quincy, , ; from dr. ripley, , ; from dr. channing to dr. ripley, ; from charles lane, to thoreau, - ; from a. g. peabody, , ; from r. w. emerson, , ; from f. b. sanborn, ; from henry thoreau, , , , , , , , ; from horace greeley, , - , - ; from margaret fuller, - ; from dr. ripley, - ; from sophia thoreau, , , , , ; letter to sophia thoreau, , , . levet, robert, . lowell, james russell, , . mæcenas, greeley as, - . manse, old, built in , ; occupied by hawthorne ; channing's verses on, ; farmers at, - ; "mosses from," ; first mistress of, . marlboro road, . marryatt, captain, . marvell, andrew, . massey, gerald, . merrick, tilly, , . milton, john, , . minott, george, , , , . minott, mrs., the grandmother of thoreau, - . minute-man, statue of, . monadnoc, , - . moore, abel ("captain hardy"), , . morton, edwin, . munroe of lexington and concord, ; william, , . musketaquid, . nature, "born and brought up in concord," ; thoreau's observation of, , . orrok, david, . orrok, sarah, . out-door life of thoreau, at walden, , ; in general, , , - , - ; by night, . parker, theodore, ; school candidate, . "past and present," by carlyle, notice of, . peabody, a. g., letter from, . peabody, elizabeth p., , . penobscot river, . pepperell, sir william, . perry, joseph, . phalanstery, , , . phillips, wendell, at concord, . pierpont, sarah, . pillsbury, parker, . poems, quoted from tennyson, ; from ellery channing, , , , , , , , , ; emerson's "saadi", ; "maine woods," , ; milton, ; thoreau's "love," ; "sympathy," ; "the maiden in the east," ; to his brother john, ; the departure, ; "the pilgrims," ; "smoke" (a fragment), ; from t. p. sanborn, ; from keats, . poet, the character of, . ponkawtassett hill, , . putnam's magazine, , . quarterly, massachusetts, . quincy, josiah, ; letter from, , ; certificate in favor of thoreau, . ralston, mrs. laura dunbar, . ricketson, daniel, , , ; description of thoreau's actual appearance, ; disappointment in imagined personal appearance of thoreau, ; on thoreau's domestic character, ; describes thoreau's dance, ; letters from thoreau to, , ; letter from sophia thoreau to, . ripley, dr. (pastor at concord), petition to grand lodge of masons, - ; letter from, ; certificate in favor of thoreau's father, ; schism in parish of, , ; thoreau baptized by, ; letter from edward everett to, ; letter introducing thoreau as a teacher, ; anecdotes of, - , , ; letter to dr. channing, ; reply, ; his prayers, , ; letter on the transcendental movement, , . ripley, rev. samuel, . ripley, mrs. sarah, . robbins, cæsar, a negro, , . sanborn, f. b., acquaintance with thoreau, ; extract from diary, , ; introduces john brown to thoreau, ; letter to thoreau, . sanborn, t. p., his "endymion" quoted, . sartain, john, . "service, the," . sewall, ellen, . "shay," a one-horse, - . slave, fugitive, . staten island, , , . sunday prospect, . sunday walkers, . tacitus, quoted, . teufelsdröckh, . thoreau family, , , - . thoreau, helen, - . thoreau, henry, his ancestry, - ; born in concord, ; his mother, , ; his father, ; as a pencil-maker, ; first dwelling-place, ; at the concord academy, ; enters harvard college, ; at chelmsford, ; his childish stoicism, ; his graduation, ; as school teacher, ; a beneficiary of harvard college, , ; his certificate from dr. ripley, , ; from emerson, ; beginning of acquaintance with emerson, ; his "sic vita," ; quincy's certificate, ; a transcendentalist, ; first essays in authorship, , ; description of a visit to fairhaven cliffs, , ; his early poems, - ; his first lecture, ; his "walk to wachusett," ; his earliest companion, ; his friendship with ellery channing, - ; his praise of alcott, ; goes to alcott's conversations, ; visits chappaqua and walt whitman, ; his burial place, ; his relation with emerson, , ; reads his "week" to alcott, ; designs a lodge for emerson, ; his acquaintance with sanborn, ; at walden, ; his reasons for going to walden, ; edits "the week," ; talks with w. h. channing and greeley, ; his essay on carlyle, - ; his paper on "ktaadn" and the "maine woods," ; his "week," ; asks greeley for a loan, ; his "canada," and "cape cod," , ; greeley asks him to become a tutor, ; his out-door life, ; collects specimens for agassiz, , ; his visits to maine, , ; as a naturalist, - ; a night on mount washington, ; his monadnoc trip, - ; his description of a concord heifer, , ; his apostrophe to the "queen of night," ; his face, , , ; described by channing, ; by ricketson, - ; travels on cape cod, ; domestic character, ; dances, ; sings "tom bowline," ; his social traits, - ; as author and lecturer, - ; his manual labor, ; fashion of his garments, ; income from authorship, ; lives in emerson's household, ; his parable, ; his habit of versification, ; his reading, ; as naturalist, - ; his theory of labor and leisure, ; his political philosophy, ; eras in his life, ; his aim in writing, ; his religion, ; his business in life, ; his method in writing, ; his sunset walks, ; his aversion to society, ; his decline and death, - ; his funeral, . thoreau, john, the father, , . thoreau, john, the brother, , . thoreau, john, the jerseyman; , - , . thoreau, maria, - . thoreau, sophia, , , , , , , , , ; letter from, , , , - ; letters to, , , . "tom bowline," sung by thoreau, , , . transcendentalism, , , , , , ; in new england, - ; in politics, - ; social and unsocial, - ; at brook farm, ; at fruitlands, . transcendentalists of concord, , , , , , - , , , , , . transcendental period, - . "tribune," new york, , , . very, jones, , . wachusett, , , , . walden (the book), , , , , . walden hermitage, - . walden woods, , , , , , . watson, marston, , . webster, daniel, a lover of louisa dunbar, , ; describes his native place, - ; his friendship for louisa dunbar, , ; at the "wyman trial," ; his "rose-cold," ; visits in concord, ; letter to mrs. cheney, ; described by carlyle, ; by thoreau, ; contrasted with thoreau, . webster, prof. j. w., . "week," the, (thoreau's first book), , , , , , , . weiss, rev. john, . "westminster review," . wharton, thomas, . whig review, . whitefield, g., letter to, . whiting, colonel, , . whiting, rev. john, . whitman, walt, , . whittier, j. g., quoted, . wigglesworth, michael, . willard, major, , . woolman, john, , . zilpha, the walden circe, . american statesmen biographies of men famous in the political history of the united states. edited by john t. morse, jr. each volume, with portrait, mo, gilt top, $ . . the set, volumes, $ . ; half morocco, $ . . _separately they are interesting and entertaining biographies of our most eminent public men; as a series they are especially remarkable as constituting a history of american politics and policies more complete and more useful for instruction and reference than any that i am aware of._--hon. john w. griggs, ex-united states attorney-general. =benjamin franklin.= by john t. morse, jr. =samuel adams.= by james k. hosmer. =patrick henry.= by moses coit tyler. =george washington.= by henry cabot lodge. volumes. =john adams.= by john t. morse, jr. =alexander hamilton.= by henry cabot lodge. =gouverneur morris.= by theodore roosevelt. =john jay.= by george pellew. =john marshall.= by allan b. magruder. =thomas jefferson.= by john t. morse, jr. =james madison.= by sydney howard gay. =albert gallatin.= by john austin stevens. =james monroe.= by d. c. gilman. =john quincy adams.= by john t. morse, jr. =john randolph.= by henry adams. =andrew jackson.= by w. g. sumner. =martin van buren.= by edward w. shepard. =henry clay.= by carl schurz. volumes. =daniel webster.= by henry cabot lodge. =john c. calhoun.= by dr. h. von holst. =thomas h. benton.= by theodore roosevelt. =lewis cass.= by andrew c. mclaughlin. =abraham lincoln.= by john t. morse, jr. volumes. =william h. seward.= by thornton k. lothrop. =salmon p. chase.= by albert bushnell hart. =charles francis adams.= by c. f. adams, jr. =charles sumner.= by moorfield storey. =thaddeus stevens.= by samuel w. mccall. _second series_ biographies of men particularly influential in the recent political history of the nation. each volume, with portrait, mo, $ . _net_; postage cents. _this second series is intended to supplement the original list of american statesmen by the addition of the names of men who have helped to make the history of the united states since the civil war._ =james g. blaine.= by edward stanwood. =john sherman.= by theodore e. burton. =william mckinley.= by t. c. dawson. =ulysses s. grant.= by samuel w. mccall. in preparation. _other interesting additions to the list to be made in the future._ houghton mifflin company american commonwealths volumes devoted to such states of the union as have a striking political, social, or economic history. each volume, with map and index, mo, gilt top, $ . , _net_; postage cents. the set, vols., $ . ; half polished morocco, $ . . _the books which form this series are scholarly and readable individually; collectively, the series, when completed, will present a history of the nation, setting forth in lucid and vigorous style the varieties of government and of social life to be found in the various commonwealths included in the federal union._ =california.= by josiah royce. =connecticut.= by alexander johnston. (revised ed.) =indiana.= by j. p. dunn, jr. (revised edition.) =kansas.= by leverett w. spring. (revised edition.) =kentucky.= by nathaniel southgate shaler. =louisiana.= by albert phelps. =maryland.= by william hand browne. (revised ed.) =michigan.= by thomas m. cooley. (revised edition.) =minnesota.= by wm. w. folwell. =missouri.= by lucien carr. =new hampshire.= by frank b. sanborn. =new york.= by ellis h. roberts. vols. (revised ed.) =ohio.= by rufus king. (revised edition.) =rhode island.= by irving b. richman. =texas.= by george p. garrison. =vermont.= by rowland e. robinson. =virginia.= by john esten cooke. (revised edition.) =wisconsin.= by reuben gold thwaites. _in preparation_ =georgia.= by ulrich b. phillips. =illinois.= by john h. finley. =iowa.= by albert shaw. =massachusetts.= by edward channing. =new jersey.= by austin scott. =oregon.= by f. h. hodder. =pennsylvania.= by talcott williams. houghton mifflin company american men of letters biographies of our most eminent american authors, written by men who are themselves prominent in the field of letters. each volume, with portrait, mo, gilt top. _the writers of these biographies are themselves americans, generally familiar with the surroundings in which their subjects lived and the conditions under which their work was done. hence the volumes are peculiar for the rare combination of critical judgment with sympathetic understanding. collectively, the series offers a biographical history of american literature._ _the following, each, $ . _ =william cullen bryant.= by john bigelow. =j. fenimore cooper.= by t. r. lounsbury. =george william curtis.= by edward cary. =ralph waldo emerson.= by oliver wendell holmes. =benjamin franklin.= by john bach mcmaster. =washington irving.= by charles dudley warner. =margaret fuller ossoli.= by t. w. higginson. =edgar allan poe.= by george e. woodberry. =george ripley.= by o. b. frothingham. =william gilmore simms.= by william p. trent. =bayard taylor.= by albert h. smyth. =henry d. thoreau.= by frank b. sanborn. =noah webster.= by horace e. scudder. =nathaniel parker willis.= by henry a. beers. _the following, each, $ . , net; postage, cents_ =nathaniel hawthorne.= by george e. woodberry. =henry w. longfellow.= by t. w. higginson. =francis parkman.= by h. d. sedgwick. =william hickling prescott.= by rollo ogden. =john greenleaf whittler.= by geo. r. carpenter. the set, volumes, $ . ; half polished morocco, $ . . _in preparation_ =bret harte.= by henry c. merwin. =oliver wendell holmes.= by s. m. crothers. _other titles to be added._ houghton mifflin company footnotes: [footnote : _emerson's sketch of dr. ripley._ hood, in his _music for the million_, describes an angry man as slamming a door "with a _wooden damn_."] [footnote : at the date of this letter dr. ripley was not quite eighty-two, and he lived to be more than ninety. mr. alcott, who has now passed the age of eighty-two, has been for years doing in some degree what dr. channing urged the patriarch of his denomination to do, but which the old minister never found time and strength for. it is curious that these two venerable men, whose united life in concord covers a period of more than a century, both came from connecticut.] [footnote : this princely anecdote is paralleled, in its way, by one told of gershom bradford, of duxbury, son of colonel gam. bradford, the friend of washington and kosciusko, but himself a plain old colony farmer. once walking in his woods, he saw a man cutting down a fine tree; he concealed himself that the man might not see him, and went home. when asked why he did not stop the trespasser, he replied, "could not the poor man have a tree?" gershom bradford was a descendant of governor bradford, the pilgrim, and uncle of mrs. sarah ripley, of concord.] [footnote : this would, of course, diminish his own share, as the law then stood, from one half the estate to one fourth, or less.] [footnote : "these facts," says his biographer, whom i knew well, "show clearly, i think, not only that his love of right was stronger than his love of money, but that he would rather make any sacrifice of property than leave a doubt in his own mind whether justice had been done to others."] [footnote : lucy barnes, daughter of jonathan and rachel barnes of marlborough, was born july , , married joseph hosmer, of concord, december , , and died in concord, ----, ----. her brother was rev. jonathan barnes, born in , graduated at harvard college, in , and settled as a minister in hillsborough, n. h., where he died in .] [footnote : the resemblance between some of john woolman's utterances and those of henry thoreau has been noticed by whittier, who says of the new jersey quaker, "from his little farm on the rancocas he looked out with a mingled feeling of wonder and sorrow upon the hurry and unrest of the world; he regarded the merely rich man with unfeigned pity. with nothing of his scorn, he had all of thoreau's commiseration for people who went about, bowed down with the weight of broad acres and great houses on their backs." the "scorn" of thoreau and the "pity," of woolman, sprang from a common root, however.] [footnote : the hollowell place, no doubt.] [footnote : in building this quaint structure, thoreau was so averse to mr. alcott's plan of putting up and tearing down with no settled design of form on paper, that he withdrew his mechanic hand, so skillful in all carpenter work.] [footnote : no such letter appears.] [footnote : that is to say, a low price compared with what is now paid. as the letter courteously states some matters that have now become curious, it may be given:-- "philadelphia, _march , _. "dear sir,--i have read the articles of mr. thoreau forwarded by you, and will be glad to publish them if our terms are satisfactory. we generally pay for prose composition per printed page, and would allow him three dollars per page. we do not pay more than four dollars for any that we now engage. i did not suppose our maximum rate would have paid you (mr. greeley) for your lecture, and therefore requested to know your own terms. of course, when an article is unusually desirable, we may deviate from rule; i now only mention ordinary arrangement. i was very sorry not to have your article, but shall enjoy the reading of it in graham. mr. t. might send us some further contributions, and shall at least receive prompt and courteous decision respecting them. yours truly, "john sartain." it seems sad so candid and amiable a publisher should not have succeeded.] [footnote : it was a "primo flauto" of his father's, who, like himself, was a sweet player on the flute, and had performed with that instrument in the parish choir, before the day of church-organs in concord.] [footnote : thoreau says of this adventure: "after putting our packs under a rock, having a good hatchet, i proceeded to build a substantial house. this was done about dark, and by that time we were as wet as if we had stood in a hogshead of water. we then built a fire before the door, directly on the site of our camp of two years ago. standing before this, and turning round slowly, like meat that is roasting, we were as dry, if not drier than ever, after a few hours, and so, at last, we turned in."] transcriber's notes minor punctuation errors have been silently corrected. page : changed "aniversary" to "anniversary." (orig: two hundredth aniversary of the town settlement.) footnote from page : dashes represent blank spaces of unrecorded death date. (orig: and died in concord, ----, ----.) page : changed "acknowlege" to "acknowledge." (orig: to pure love, i may acknowlege with gratitude) page : changed "existnce" to "existence." (orig: let common people know of his existnce.) page : changed "that" to "than." (orig: make a use for them at this season that at any other.")